Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Mother? Father? Please wake up." An 11-year old Draco pleaded from outside the bedroom door. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy slowly sat up and looked at the clocks on their bedside tables. '7:00AM'. Lucius groaned.
"This is entirely your fault Narcissa." He accused.
"My fault?" She questioned, sitting up in bed and glaring at her husband.
"Yes. You are the reason he wakes up so early. It's a Black family gene." The man replied. Though Lucius tried to come off as a cold, heartless man, he was in fact quite enamored with his wife and tried his best to treat her as an equal.
"Please begin to dress." Draco pleaded from outside. "The Nimbus 2000 comes out today and I want to go buy it!" Narcissa glared at her husband.
"Oh no Lucius, this is entirely your fault. You're always kindling his interest in Quidditch. You are the reason he is awake this morning," she chided before turning her voice to the door. "Draco honey, you know you can't bring the broom to school." Narcissa called to her son.
Outside the bedroom, Draco sighed. "I think that's a stupid rule. We need to buy school supplies anyways; it's been weeks since the letter came!" he called, becoming excited once again.
Narcissa looked to her husband. "Lucius?" she asked when he did nothing. He groaned in response and swung his legs out of bed. Narcissa watched as he made his way to the master bathroom and shut the door.
"Go dress, darling," Narcissa told Draco.
"I'm already dressed, mother. I'll be at the dining room for breakfast! Please hurry, I want to get to Diagon Alley before it gets too crowded." Her son replied. She heard him make his way downstairs and sighed. Narcissa sighed; her baby was going to Hogwarts.
A few hours later Draco browsed the shelves of Flourish and Blotts, hoping his parents would take a long time to purchase his schoolbooks before taking him to Madam Malkin's. There were so many interesting books in this store, and he had been left unsupervised while looking at them! He turned up his nose at the Gilderoy Lockhart Collection—new book coming August 1992—and moved on to a section on the biographies of great wizards. After all, he thought proudly, Malfoys are expected to learn all about great wizards and their accomplishments, and Gilderoy Lockhart was no great wizard.
"Draco?" Narcissa called from the front of the store.
With a sigh Draco closed Volume 1 of The Life of Nicholas Flammel and followed his mother's voice to where she was standing with his newly paid for and packaged schoolbooks. When he was standing beside her, she sent the books home with a flick of her wand, and began to steer him out of the store.
"Draco," Lucius began, looking over at his son from beside Narcissa, "once your mother and I set you up in Madam Malkin's we are going to run an errand of our own. We will come back to retrieve you when we are finished."
Draco held back a shout of glee (Malfoys do not make whooping noises, especially when in public). Getting fitted for robes was boring even when his parents stayed and when they left him alone it was almost unbearable . . . but at least he would be alone. It was hard to get in trouble for un-Malfoy-like behavior when there weren't any Malfoys around to see it.
"As always we expect you to be on your best behavior," Lucius continued. "Now what do I mean by that?"
The family of three had stopped in front of Madam Malkins. His father waited for the answer with a hard stare.
"Malfoys stand still while being fitted for robes. Malfoys do not question their elders with regards to their robes – assuming the elders aren't absolute idiots, of course. Malfoys don't touch what they aren't supposed to, and they always uphold the family's honor." Draco spouted off everything he could think of that would have a direct application to getting fitted, tacking on the honor part for good measure. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath, but when Lucius nod he felt his lungs fill with air. An acceptable answer.
He tried to hold back his excitement as his parents steered him into the store and onto a pedestal. He stood perfectly still as his mother presented the seamstress with a list of different items she wanted for him and listed her requirements, and he promised to meet them outside the shop when he was done if he finished before they returned. As Lucius turned to leave, though, he whispered one last rule into Draco's ear.
"Remember son, Malfoys do not associate with scum." Draco's face fell. He knew what his father was referring to. They had seen a lot of families known to be blood traitors as well as halfbloods and even some muggleborns wandering around Diagon Alley, shopping for school supplies. Draco knew better than to associate with any of them, but he still hated being reminded of that particular rule.
"Of course, father," he whispered back. Malfoys acknowledge when their fathers speak to them.