Draco Malfoy had arrived home to find all of his books and supplies for school already ordered. It wasn't like he'd craved the excitement of Diagon Alley, or anything. But, it itched, just slightly, not getting to go. Everyone else got to go, even Ashley - she'd taken his measurements, and the robes had materialized while he'd been busy shilling Pansy's Newest Sister - to Pansy's mum, of course. Narcissa and Amarylis had a longstanding feud (they were 'best friends' in name only), but Amarylis Parkinson was not about to be outdone by that 'Porcelain Princess' (Draco had overheard her gossiping ages ago, and it was a venomous nickname indeed, implying that his mum would break at the slightest pressure.).

It had fallen to Draco Malfoy, with his best pureblood manners, to showcase the poor orphans, who were doing their very best to be happy and cheerful - and failing, of course. It wouldn't do to actually be happy, after your entire village was massacred. But they had to put on a decent show of it, because self-pity was never a desired trait.

Stepping onto the platform for the Hogwarts Express was the first time Draco Malfoy had been out in public that summer. He could feel the eyes, assessing him as they weighed his value. Worse, he could feel the speculative silence - they were wondering what he was going to do next. Draco Malfoy was no coward - he stood straight and tall - and smirked.

He knew something they didn't, after all.

Ashley had taken up position flanking him, on his left side. That was a twofold ploy - in the purely mercenary sense, it was his weaker side. Secondly, she was symbolically standing as a member of his house, in fealty to the Heir - and on the sinister side. All the pictures of Merlin and Morgana had her on the left, and that was a tradition that the Wizarding world had cherished, in full and perpetuity.

Draco's eyes met Eleanor Parkinson's without a trace of recognition. He turned slightly, so as not to be caught staring. Unlike Ashley, Eleanor was making her own way onto the train. Pansy would never have stood a sister in Slytherin, so it was just as well. Draco and Ashley were three paces behind Eleanor, as she scrambled for a compartment.

"This compartment's full, or are Snakes blind as well as deaf?" A Ravenclaw spat at Eleanor.

Eleanor mock turned behind herself, looking over her own shoulder, "My sister shan't be joining us, thanks kindly." She walked into the compartment - Draco and Ashley had approached close enough to see that it was half empty, though Draco thought that Eleanor would have cheerfully stood the entire time. "I've heard so much said about the Brilliance of Ravenclaws, but that seems to be overstated, if you can't even distinguish Parkinsons from one another."

Eleanor seated herself quietly, near the window - a good, defensible choice. Draco nudged Ashley into taking a nearby compartment, where they could watch the scene.

"Whose words are you trying to twist now, you bitch?" One of Chang's friends snapped out.

Cheerfully, Eleanor smiled, and it was as if the sun came out from behind clouds. "None but my own, of course. Just a small diversion for a long journey." She stretched, claiming a large part of the mostly-empty bench. "But I think you're right, my ears must need cleaning. Because I could have sworn I heard you call me a bitch, and that just won't do."

Eleanor's eyes had turned cold at the last, "I entered by my lonesome, but if you dare insult me, you'll find I have all of the Parkinsons' at my back. With Purse, And Plague, And Pain."

Neatly done, Draco thought, approvingly. Ashley struck up a light conversation with him, on the bounds of proper decorum at the turn of the 17th century, and how being dressed was entirely a courtly matter.

[a/n: all that's true. In the muggle world. Being 'undressed' (in a shift or nightgown) was how Ben Franklin often received guests.]