Author: Madraykin
Rating: R-ish I think. Language, situation, eating disorders and possible self-mutilation (non-graphic).
Summary: A new girl appears and a certain Slytherin prince finds himself strangely fixated on her. Warnings: Language, situation, eating disorders and possible self-mutilation (non-graphic)
Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.Not me. I'm just playing.
A/N: I originally meant for this to be a one-part story, but the beginning rather ran away with me. So now I'm thinking maybe 2 or 3 chapters if people like it. Lame title, I'm sorry. Please review, this is only my second fic and I crave feedback in order to improve.
A/N 2: this has now been edited. Much thanks to Niuserre for beta-ing
It is the first day back at school of his fifth year and Draco Malfoy is already bored. He's been bored since the train left London all those hours ago. Because really, when you're used to it all, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry isn't all that amazing. To him, it is practically the same as home, except at home he doesn't have to deal with these idiots who want to talk and talk and tell him all about their holidays and paw at him and have his attention, even if it's just for a fleeting second.
He half watches the sorting ceremony with semi-shuttered eyes. He makes clapping motions whenever some new first year gets sorted in to Slytherin, but it's pretty much an unconscious effort now. He scans the hall from under his eyelashes; he notes the Gryffindors beaming and cheering every time they receive a new first year, he also notes that this year there seems to be even more first years than usual. He isn't sure how that happened. Wouldn't the threat of Voldemort's return have driven them away? Sent them all to Beauxbatons, or maybe all the way to America or Australia. But then he remembers that that imbecile Fudge is still denying his return.
Suddenly his gaze reaches the end of the line of first years and he has to stop his body physically betraying his surprise as he sees a girl standing there. She is significantly taller than the rest of them, and there is no way he can imagine that she can be a first year. If he had to guess he'd say she was a sixth or seventh year, maybe a fifth year at the very youngest. If he were forced to admit his wish as to which year she belonged with, he would have to grudgingly say fifth.
He studies her closely through his eyelashes. She has black hair. Long, straight, shiny black hair, nothing like that mudblood Granger's. Which is an odd comparison now that he thinks about it. As far as he can tell she has a near perfect classical face; large eyes with long dark lashes (he imagines her eyes are blue, but he can't tell from this distance), an elegant nose and perfect cupid bow lips. And pale, pale skin. Skin so pale it could rival his. He is sure she is wearing make-up. After all, most of the girls do, but he is sure that it by no means detracts from her loveliness.
Wait. Lovely? He isn't sure where that came from. Loveliness certainly isn't a Malfoy-ish word. And he doesn't even know who she is. Maybe if she is sorted into Slytherin or Ravenclaw and is a high ranking pureblood it will be all right for him to think of her as lovely.
Having sorted that out in his mind he goes back to his study. At first glance, her clothing seems to be the same as everyone else's; a plain black robe. But looking closer he sees that she is wearing high-heeled lace up boots. At least he is pretty sure that they are boots, because they disappear under her robe. And he is also sure that she is wearing gloves; black, fingerless gloves, made out of dragonhide (or at least they will be if she is a pureblood, if she isn't they might be that horrible leather stuff that muggles wear). He wonders more than ever who she is. After all they wouldn't let just anybody flout school rules like that. One thing he is definitely sure of is that high-heeled boots and gloves are not part of the school uniform.
On the edge of his consciousness he notices that the room has suddenly gone silent and he pulls his attention away from the girl. He realises that during his study period all of the new first years have been sorted and she is now standing in front of the staff table in the middle of the hall. And everybody is looking (he decides that 'looking' is far too bland. Maybe staring, or gaping, would have been more appropriate. But he's had the thought now, he's used looking) at her. He can see now that her eyes are blue. A deep, velvety blue. And while the entire student population gawks at her she just stands there, holding her head at that angle (Draco wasn't entirely sure what that angle was, his mother had tried patiently to teach it to him, as had his deportment instructor, but now that he sees it done right, he knows exactly what it is) with perfect posture and a calm blank mask over her face, and ignores them.
Dumbledore stands, he presumes to introduce her, but all that passes through his haze of awareness while he considers every subtle nuance of her face and stance is; 'transfer student', 'Beauxbatons', 'fifth year' and 'Seraphine de Mort'.
Angel of death. He muses. It suits her. And now that he knows her name he can look it up. Or ask his father.
He pulls himself sharply back to the present as she walks up to the stool and sits bolt upright as McGonagall places the hat on her head. After a brief pause the hat shouts out,
"Slytherin."
And she removes it from her head, her face the same perfect mask as before and her hair appearing untouched by the hat, stands up and walks with a slight sway of her hips towards the Slytherin table, her boots making quiet clicking noises on the wooden floor. She sits and Dumbledore stands again to make his usual beginning of term speech.
Dumbledore sits again and food appears on the plates.
Draco is still watching her. He notices that she doesn't eat much, and she completely ignores her dessert. He also notices that no one is talking to her, and he imagines that under her flawless mask she is feeling rather nervous. It is to be expected that no one talks to her; they don't know who she is. And although it will be assumed that she is a pureblood (very few mudbloods get into Slytherin) they don't know her status or her allegiances.
As she rises to follow the first years and a prefect to her dormitory he decides that he will sit next to her and talk to her tomorrow at breakfast.
End note: I'm not too sure about the present tense. I hope I didn't slip up anywhere. So verdicts? Critiscism?
