Chapter 3: The Boy Who Lived

Draco had been in Madam Malkin's for 15 minutes already. Madam Malkin was a very shrewd, older woman, who was very familiar with the Malfoy family. She did the measurements on Malfoy herself, not leaving it to her young assistant. Her precise and careful manner was very gratifying to Draco. Her own mauve robes, though not a color a Malfoy would ever be caught in, were impeccable and stately.

The door opened with the tinkle of a bell, and Draco Malfoy looked casually over. A scrawny boy about his own age with completely ungroomed hair had entered the shop. Looming in the doorway behind him was some man who Draco suspected had giant blood. The huge man was saying something in a deep, gruff voice to the small boy. Draco wished idly that he could read lips, so he could learn things he shouldn't more easily. This skill would likely have been no hope in this case, as the man had a beard that almost completely concealed his lips.

The boy was stood on a stool next to Draco and was being measured by the young witch that was Madam Malkin's assistant. Draco put on his best you-are-inferior-and-it-is-a-privilege-for-me-to-address-you voice that his father did so well.

"Hello. Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," said the boy.

Draco had learned from watching his father that the best thing when meeting someone new, after already knowing their name, that is, was asking for it. Draco didn't know why, but his father did not do it without reason, so Draco did it too.

"My name's Draco Malfoy," he paused for just a second, but there was no reaction to the name. A muggleborn, most probably then. "What's your's?" he continued.

The boy looked rather self-conscious. "Harry. Harry Potter."

Draco stiffened in surprise, but quickly regained his posture. He did, however, alter his tone. This was it! He got to meet Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, before anyone else at school. He hadn't expected such luck, though he had known Harry would be in his year.

"This must be awfully new to you," Draco said, "being a wizard and all. I heard that they had you being raised by Muggles. I can't imagine, having no magic at all." His father always talked about the other person for a little first, if he had time.

Harry Potter looked gratified. "Magic's amazing! Muggles aren't all bad, though. The ones I live with are awful."

Draco mentally grinned. He had never met someone who you couldn't get to like you better by listening to their complaints with sympathy. "What was it like?"

As Harry went on about his cousin and something about a cupboard, Draco didn't listen very much. He nodded along and tucked little details away that might be useful later, but his thoughts were mostly elsewhere.

Draco's measurements were finished, and he strode up and down the small room, making sure that every movement was fluid. They were to his satisfaction, and it took only a moment to finalize all the stitches. He paid for them himself.

Harry Potter smiled at him as he left the room. "I'll see you at Hogwarts," he said, as the door closed. Draco, despite all his practice, could not keep the broad grin off his face.