July, 1991 - School Shopping

Narcissa had already bought most of the things her son Draco needed to start his new school life. The house-elves had pressed his uniform to within an inch of its life. Various potion and spell casting items, of which there seemed too many, lay in the chest at the foot of Draco's bed. An old aunt on his mother's side had sent a huge hamper of sweets - every kind he could imagine, and some he'd never dreamed of!

The boy's grandfather had even given him a new broom for Christmas - a Twigger 90! It was the best broom on offer those few short months ago, but the with the release of the Nimbus 2000 for the summer season, Draco had already requested an upgrade. That hadn't gone down too well, for some reason.

Narcissa had told him, "You should be grateful for the broom you've been given."

"It was an unusually extravagant gift from old sod in the first place," Lucius had added.

There were only three things left on Draco's list to get and his father had elected to take the boy on the final shopping trip. Now the day had come, Lucius felt less inclined.

"He doesn't deserve anything else after his display at the ball," he said to his wife over breakfast, his young son cringing at the table.

It was two days ago, Draco muttered to himself. It was last week since it's Monday now!

"What was that?" Lucius asked the boy, giving him a jump.

"Just that…" Draco looked at his father and swallowed his complaint. "Nothing, sir."

Draco's eyes concentrated hard on his bowl of Sugar puff Stars as they bobbed about in a sea of milk. The stars turned the milk a navy blue whilst retaining their own shade of luminous yellow. His mother doubted the nutritional value of food in such lurid colours, but Draco whinged so mercilessly that she often gave in and allowed him to have it.

The 'display at the ball', as his father put it, wasn't Draco's fault - it was the half-breed Harry and his blood-traitor mates. Whether or not Harry Potter was his family, Draco swore to Merlin he'd never speak to him again. Or the Weasleys. Once he was at Hogwarts, his life would be his own and he wouldn't have to see any of them ever again. He doubted they'd be so cruel as to mix houses at Hogwarts. Draco would be with his Slytherin friends, and the other three houses could rot at the bottom of the lake for all he cared.

It would be more difficult to avoid Potter and the Weasleys during school breaks. After the Dark Lord disappeared, his family had to rebuild their reputation in the wizarding world. Draco remembered some tense conversations in Malfoy manor when he was very young about this. From his understanding, his family needed to integrate into 'polite society'. Draco didn't understand that…surely an old and noble family like his epitomised polite society?

Apparently not, according to his parents. His grandfather, Abraxas, agreed with them, though it was the only time Draco ever heard the man sound nervous, unsure, or concerned. The only dissenting voices were those of his great-grandparents, but neither his parents nor Abraxas paid them much heed.

Moving in polite society required the family to rebrand their image, Lucius had said, and that meant mixing with a wider social group than those they had been friends with before the Dark Lord disappeared. The Sacred-28 families were the obvious group to integrate into - they were the oldest and noblest households in the lands, and many held lofty ideas about their status even if they hadn't supported the Dark Lord. They were only too pleased to attend Narcissa's events, going by the hoards that arrived at Malfoy manor for the first Summer Ball.

Soon, even those who were less important (or not important at all, in Draco's opinion) attended and the Malfoys had salvaged the family name in only a few short years. They were now stuck socializing with government ministers, visiting dignitaries, and even some muggles!

Draco's parents appeared to enjoy these events, but he was sure they were acting. They had to be. His father did a lot of business at the Sacred-28 events and was making a tidy packet from the conversations Draco was overhearing. He hoped his father made enough money to cover what he squandered on 'charitable causes' and the like. In fact, there should be so much money that Draco wouldn't have to continue the networking his father was engaged in when he finally took over the manor.

That's when it struck Draco. He'd been unfair on Harry Potter and the Weasley gang. They weren't alone in ruining his life. His own parents and grandfather had instigated the very events which allowed them to rub shoulders with him in the first place! With that thought in mind, Draco ignored his cereal and tried to remember the words for the stinging hex he learned at Young Wizard Camp the year before.

"Whether he deserves it or not, a wand is required for school, dear," Narcissa told her husband. "And we've already paid for a new cloak - he just needs to be fitted for it, which will take no time at all."

Ah, his mother, ever the voice of reason! Draco dared to smirk but sensibly kept his face down, looking at his bowl.

"I'm not so inclined to get him a pet, though."

Draco's face lifted swiftly and turned to his mother. What a nasty witch she was! The boy had his father's temperament - everyone said so. He could go from regretful to raging before you could say 'riddikulus'. It was a Malfoy man trait.

Lucius nodded to his dear wife. "Agreed."

"But that's not—"

With a glare, Lucius cut his son off. "If you dare to say it isn't fair after how you behaved…" he paused and looked away, keeping whatever threat he was about to issue firmly in his mind. "If I am taking you to buy your wand, you will behave impeccably. I have no qualms sending you to Hogwarts without one if I have to."

Draco dropped his spoon into his bowl, milk splashed on the tablecloth and even his robes. He might have been more annoyed about the latter had he realised. No pet and possibly no wand? Had a child ever been treated so dreadfully in the entire history of the wizarding world?

He looked to his mother and gave her his best puppy dog eyes, reserved for times of great need. "Will you take me instead?"

"Draco," Lucius began, warning in his tone.

"Mother, please!" the child continued, unperturbed. "It will be miserable going with him."

Narcissa shook her head. "I can assure you, my darling, the trip will be just as miserable with me."

It was quite an unusual response from his mother, although it was becoming more common as the years went by. She had gone from complete indulgence in her only son to being wracked with guilt and shame over his misbehaviour. Such feelings tend not to lead to the indulgence Draco knew and preferred.

"I imagine I will feel the humiliation of the Summer Ball until the Yule one is due."

She shuddered as she spoke, remembering all too clearly the gossiping around the table and the whispers in the dancing hall after dinner.

At the ball, Draco heard his mother laughing about his behaviour and telling his Great-Aunt Edna that Sacred-28 events were easier without little ones around. It took the boy a few minutes to realise she was talking about him and only then because Great-Aunt Edna called Draco a 'beastly little boy'. Narcissa had smiled but Draco caught her eye a few times - she was not amused at all.

He wasn't 'fit for polite society' according to some other coffin dodgers. From all Draco had learned about 'polite society' in his eleven years on earth, he didn't wish to be part of it! It was stifling and pointless and filled with boring, old people!

Draco fixed his glare on his mother. "Fine," he said. "I didn't want to go shopping with you, anyway."

There came a clattering of silver cutlery on fine china as Lucius hastily abandoned his breakfast.

"The absolute audacity!"

Lucius made his way to Draco's side of the breakfast table before the bewildered boy noticed he'd even stood. A second later, he was being pulled to his feet and dragged toward the hall. With a jolt, he was brought to a standstill in front of the fire place - it was the closest one connected to the floo network in the manor home, the other being in his father's study. Draco was quite pleased he hadn't been taken there as it usually signified something far less pleasant than a trip to the shops of the wizarding world.

Draco waited, ignoring his father whilst the house-elves took their instructions. He snatched the cloak they offered and sneered at the wretched things. Usually, Lucius wouldn't even pass comment on his child treating the miniature slaves so abysmally, so long as it wasn't one of his preferred elves. But he was exasperated.

Lucius snatched the cloak right back from his son, thrust it toward the house-elf without looking at the creature, and ordered his son to try again.

No.

Draco wasn't so stupid—or angry—to say it out loud, but thinking it was quite brave for an 11-year-old, he reasoned. Especially thinking it towards such a vile father as he had. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts and planned on never ever going home again.

Ever.

Ever, ever.

He briefly considered if being adopted by muggles would be better than living with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. He quickly decided it would be beneath his dignity. Besides, why should Draco be the one to step down - they were the bad guys here, not him?

Lucius swung on his own cloak and took a large bag from the house-elf who'd apparated before him. With a swish of his wand, he shrunk the bag and its contents into a pocket of his cloak, then looked down at his boy, who was having a standoff with an increasingly awkward-looking elf.

Draco looked up in time to see his father's face contort. It was look that told him he'd gone too far. Well, he usually went too far, but it was the 'you've gone past too far' look.

With wide eyes, Draco quickly took the cape, being careful not to snatch and fastened it around his neck.

"I'm ready," he said, nerves betraying his voice as he stared into the fireplace.

Once the house-elves disappeared, the silence set in around them. Draco wouldn't look up. He refused to look up. He couldn't look up.

Lucius cleared his throat.

"I said…" Draco began.

"I heard you. We aren't going anywhere until you look at me."

Well, good luck with that. He'd rather not go.

Draco didn't mean it. He desperately wanted a pet - he'd talked about it with his friends, and they'd all planned to get toads. The girls seemed to think toads were vile creatures, which is why the boys all wanted one. They were going to leave them in the girls' bathrooms. In their bedding. Under their seats! It would be so much fun causing a little chaos and he couldn't quite believe his parents were being so cruel over some silly little curses.

As bad as it would be to turn up without his toad, it would be a million times worse to turn up without a wand. He could explain to his mates that, actually, he didn't want a pet. Couldn't be arsed to look after it. Easy. But explaining why he had no wand? That would be far too difficult without sounding like an absolute child - which as a 1st year at Hogwarts he absolutely was not!

Stupid parents.

Draco sighed to himself about his unfair lot in life and turned to face his father. At least he didn't look quite so angry anymore. He looked more resolute instead. Draco wasn't sure whether that was any better.

"Listen to me," Lucius began. "I have some business—" he held his hand up, telling his boy to quit the whine he'd begun—"Yes, business. It's how we afford to live in luxury, or would you prefer otherwise?" Lucius refused to continue until Draco shook his head. "If you do as you are told while we're in Knockturn Alley, you may find you have a more enjoyable time in Diagon Alley."

More enjoyable? Draco turned the words over in his mind. He means a pet! "Sure, sure," he rushed to say. "I'll be so good," he promised.

"Wonderful. Because if you aren't, I'll make sure you have a miserable time in both."

And just in case Draco was in any doubt, his father just had to remind him all over again of being humiliated in front of the entire children's table.

"If you thought Saturday was embarrassing with the Sacred-28 looking on, imagine how you will feel with half of Hogwarts watching. They will be in Diagon Alley today, and…"

"I've already agreed!" Draco snapped, jumping back a step after the words left his mouth, having shocked himself with his tone. "You don't need to remind me."

He pouted a little when Lucius proceeded to stare him down. Seconds before Draco could announce how unfair his life was, and no doubt bring on another eruption from his father, Lucius relented. He shook his head, whispering to Merlin for the will to keep his child quiet for a few hours so he'd make it to Hogwarts, and held out his hand to the boy.

Draco didn't want to hold his hand like an infant. What a ridiculous thing to expect of him. Ignoring his father's hand and reached for the pot on the hearth instead. "I'll do the floo powder!"

Even as he stretched towards it, Draco could see what would happen. The house-elves must have left the pot too close to the edge. Or, maybe, the powder had collected to one side of the pot, so the vessel was unstable somehow. Whatever it was, and however he knew, Draco predicted the entire thing would smash to the floor as soon as his fingers grazed the edge. And it did.

With one eye half closed, Draco looked up at his father. The man appeared to be willing himself to remain calm as he jerked his son in closer by his hand. He summoned yet another over-worked house-elf to replace the powder and clean up his child's mess - much of it being on Lucius's own robes.

While they waited, Draco felt his father's hand periodically tightening around his own. Was it his annoyance flexing through his grip, or was Lucius merely checking he remained in place? Draco didn't know, but it wasn't very comfortable. He wiggled his fingers a little only to receive another tightening. His hand felt so weak and small compared to his fathers. Tiny, in fact. Or rather, his father's was huge. No wonder it hurt so much when he volleyed a swat in his direction.

"You are so close to going to Hogwarts wandless with a sore backside."

Draco didn't think his father could read minds, but as those had been his exact concerns, he was starting to wonder. He whispered a very sincere sounding 'sorry' and promised to be good.

Lucius nodded along, having heard those words so many times - in the last week, let alone in the last decade or so.

When Dobby presented himself with a fresh pot of floo powder, Draco hoped his father would allow him to do the honours. For a brief second or two, it looked like he might. Lucius must have caught the beginnings of a smirk on Draco's face and decided against it.

Again, the pressure in Draco's small hand increased. His father announced 'Knockturn Alley' and stepped into the fireplace, dragging his boy along with him.