Hermione
.
.
The summer passed in a flash. Her parents often worked at the practice, so she spent a lot of time with Danny and Mary. They were so happy to be on holiday, Hermione didn't dare tell them that she wished she could go back to Hogwarts even sooner. They spent the summer walking in the parks of London, eating ice cream, having picnics, going to the cinema... It was a great way to pass the time. Besides, Danny and Mary had this ability to make the time fly by much faster than when she was home alone.
Hermione also spent a lot of time writing letters to Harry, Ron, and Neville. She didn't tell them much about their holidays, preferring instead to ask Ron and Neville about them and the wizarding world. They did not answer very quickly, as soon as an owl knocked on her window, she was always happy to hear from them.
Harry, however, did not answer any letters. Hermione sent a dozen or so before she realised that the people he was living with, Vernon and Petunia, must have been pretty awful to stop him reading them. She had seen them at the station on the last day of school and knew at once that the stories Harry had told her about his life there were true.
Ron informed her in one of his letters that Harry wasn't writing back either. She hoped he wasn't having a terrible summer, especially on his birthday. She was almost tempted to go to his house, but she actually had no idea where he lived, and she couldn't do magic outside of Hogwarts.
When she wasn't with Danny or Mary, Hermione was reading. She had never read so much in her life, every day she had a different book. Mrs. Pince had been kind enough to let her borrow books over the summer, as long as she brought them back to the Library on the first day of school and they weren't damaged. So Hermione had loaded her trunk with all sorts of literature on many different subjects. She was afraid that she would forget everything during the two months' holiday.
Towards the end of July, Hermione went to her grandmother's house in Edinburgh for a fortnight. Danny and his family were going to Iceland at the same time, and Mary's parents were taking her to Egypt for a month.
On the last night before they left, Hermione suggested a picnic on Hampstead Heath, and they agreed. On a few evenings during July, the park was hosting a film screening in the park, and that night it was Back to the Future. So they sat on the grass in front of the park's screen and ate the toast they had made before leaving, waiting for the film to start.
Just as the movie was about to start, Thomas, Danny's older brother, approached them.
"Hey, I didn't know you guys were going to see this movie too. Can I sit with you?"
Danny and Mary nodded as Hermione made room for him next to her so he could sit on the tablecloth. It was rare for Thomas to spend time with them, he was older and spent his time with his own group of friends.
"Aren't you with Polly and Darren tonight?" asked Danny.
"No, they went on holiday yesterday. I thought I'd go out for a bit. Would you like some popcorn? I'll buy them for you."
Thomas stood up without waiting for an answer and returned with four huge boxes of popcorn which he handed out.
"Thanks Thomas!"
"No problem." he said as he sat back down on the tablecloth, right next to Hermione.
The film began, and Hermione tried really hard to concentrate on understanding the plot, but she was confused. She could hear Thomas breathing next to her, and if she turned her eyes a little she could almost see him.
Thomas was the only boy who had that effect on her. Ever since she was in primary school, she had a kind of admiration, mixed with attraction for him. She didn't feel that way about Ron, Harry, or Danny at all. She put it down to the fact that he was older than them, that he was really good looking, and that she'd always seen him as the cool, aloof big brother who climbed trees in the parks and hung out with his stylish middle school friends.
"Don't you want any more of your popcorn, Hermione?" Thomas suddenly asked.
She gasped and handed him her half-finished box, shaking her head.
"No, I ate too much. Here."
"Cheers."
She rested her gaze on the movie screen and tried to compose herself. She'd jumped into a trapdoor guarded by a huge three-headed dog to go defeat the Dark Lord, how could she be so confused over a boy?
Draco
.
.
The summer could not have been slower than this. As soon as he returned to the Manor, his father began a long lecture on his grades, and by the end he was almost shouting:
"Not even in the top twenty? We thought that if we put you in Hogwarts, that shoddy school, you could have shone, made us proud! But no! You just made a fool of yourself, didn't you? Zabini and Nott are in the rankings! Don't you want to learn from them, instead of being so mediocre?"
"But I've been working!"
"Liar!" shouted Lucius, banging his fist on the table. "If you had worked, you'd be much higher!"
"Lucius, calm down." intimated Narcissa.
"I'm second in Potions." remarked Draco in a small voice.
"Good thing you are, your teacher is a friend of ours. Given your grades, he must have favoured you. You should have come first!"
"It's not my fault! It's Granger!"
"Who?"
"Granger! She's a muggle-born, she came first in every subject, and that's impossible! She cheated, that's for sure..."
"You mean..." said Lucius, putting a hand to his forehead. "That even a Mudblood managed to be better than you?"
Draco gathered his courage so as not to appear weak in the face of his father's anger:
"She's not better, she doesn't know anything, her parents are Muggles..."
"Granger?" interjected Narcissa. "The family you told me about, at Christmas?"
"Yes! I didn't know it at the time, but Pansy told me she was a Muggle-born. She's very weird, a bit crazy. She's one of Potter's friends."
"Have you spoken to her?"
"No! Never!" he lied.
Lucius seemed satisfied with this answer. He sat down heavily in the chair opposite Draco and sighed.
"This school is even worse than I thought. Mudbloods... Of course, Dumbledore must favour them. I'm just surprised Snape agreed to this blackmail..."
"He must have to, because of Dumbledore." surmised Draco, who was glad to see that his father's anger had moved on to someone else.
"Friends with Potter... That boy obviously has bad company. Was he still this insufferable at the end of the year?"
Excited to be able to share his resentment towards his enemy with them, Draco began to recount all of Potter's adventures. The further he went with his tale, the more his parents' faces tensed with anger, but Draco was so happy that they were no longer talking about his grades that he continued:
"And everyone loves him, everyone cheers for him! He's not even good at Quidditch, and he's allowed to have a Nimbus 2000, it's so unfair. Dumbledore doesn't even hide it, he made him win the Cup when we were first!"
"I see... Good thing you don't hang out with those people."
"Never!" affirmed Draco.
His two parents glanced at each other, then Lucius stood up:
"In any case, that doesn't excuse your catastrophic grades. You'd better work next year Draco, and get past that Mudblood."
He left the room, still fuming. Draco turned to his mother, who said calmly:
"Don't worry, Draco. He'll calm down in a few days. So, tell me, how is Pansy? And Blaise?"
Draco felt the pressure that had built up on his shoulders leave as he told his mother what he had done with his year, or at least what he hadn't already written in his letters. Narcissa listened attentively with a small smile, and Draco was grateful that she had succeeded in taking his mind off of things and making him not want to cry.
July was slow and repetitive. Draco's parents were hardly ever at the Manor, spending their evenings at "high society" galas and their days at the Ministry or Merlin knew where. Draco did pretty much the same thing every day, eating breakfast alone at the Manor, reading a bit, spending his afternoons at Blaise's house playing Quidditch.
Nott was often there too, he always wanted to be as far away from home as possible. He didn't play Quidditch though, he preferred to lie in the grass with a book, and acted as referee when Draco or Blaise made mistakes or disputed a point. Sometimes Pansy came along too, when she wasn't at one of her friends' houses, and she even got on a broomstick from time to time to play Keeper.
Around the middle of the month, they were all invited to Blaise's mother's wedding. It was her fifth wedding, and Draco had been to four of them. He accompanied his parents to the Zabini Manor, which had been fully decorated for the occasion. The garden was illuminated by hundreds of colourful flying lanterns, and a huge white table had been set for all the guests to eat at. At the back of the garden was a flowering archway, placed in front of a dozen small benches.
Draco, his father and his mother sat down at the indicated place. Pansy and her father took their places on the bench on the other side of the path, and she waved to him before the ceremony began.
Blaise's stepfather, Allan, was a rather old man, short, with greying hair. He looked nervous, dancing from one foot to the other as he greeted the guests who were gradually filling all the benches facing the arch. Draco noticed that there were even fewer guests than at the last wedding.
Music rose up from nowhere and everyone turned towards the end of the aisle, where Blaise's mother appeared. She was extremely beautiful. She was wearing a long white mermaid dress that hugged her curves, she had a big smile and her hair was braided. Blaise escorted her, and they walked between the benches, embracing each other's arms.
When they reached the end of the aisle, Blaise turned to his mother and kissed her cheek, before extending his mother's hand to Allan. He then sat down in the front row, and a wizard quickly climbed up the platform where the couple were standing to preside over the ceremony.
Blaise's mother was almost two heads taller than her husband-to-be, and he didn't seem to realise how lucky he was to be marrying such a beautiful woman. "poor guy," thought Draco.
They exchanged vows, and the man was almost starting to sob at hearing Blaise's mother talk about him like that. Draco heard Lucius mutter "pathetic", but Narcissa elbowed him and he just brooded for the rest of the ceremony.
At the end of their vows, Blaise's mother leaned over to kiss her husband, then turned to the guests, who applauded shyly.
"The reception is about to begin in the garden, if you'd like to come!" said a voice behind Draco's back.
All the guests stood up and the newlyweds walked out onto the grass, laughing. Pansy joined Draco as soon as her father went to sit at the dinner table.
"Nice ceremony, wasn't it?" she commented.
Draco shrugged:
"I feel like we've seen the same thing a hundred times."
"Blaise's mum looks so good in that dress." said Pansy as she observed the woman who was serving drinks to the guests.
"Hey, guys!" shouted Blaise, smiling, as he approached them. "Where's Nott?"
"Not seen, he must have been in the back. How are you feeling?" asked Pansy.
"Not bad, it's not the first time I've done this." he said with a small smile. "Shall we sit down?"
Draco sat down at the end of the guest table and began to eat. Cooky, the Zabini house elf, had outdone himself. There was so much food on the table that you could hardly see the plates. Nott eventually joined them and sat between Draco and Pansy, closely followed by Crabbe and Goyle whose parents had been invited too.
Unlike what he had thought, Draco was having a great time during this evening. He couldn't stop laughing, and the more the evening went on, the more he felt as if he was alone in the world with his friends, so overwhelmed were they in their conversation.
Eventually night fell, and the bride and groom got up to dance on the big white dance floor in the garden. All the guests watched them dance to the languid harp music, before getting up to dance too. Lucius invited Narcissa and she accepted with a smile.
Draco turned to Pansy, who was eating a slice of apple pie as she watched the couples dance. She was very pretty. She was wearing her timeless black lipstick, which she wore very often and which always lasted, even after eating. For the occasion, she was dressed in a pale green dress, over which she had added a satin corset.
She looked up at him when she saw that he was watching her and squinted slightly, as if to ask, "what are you looking at?"
Draco held out his hand towards her:
"Would you accept this dance, miss?"
Her face suddenly lit up and she nodded, accepting his hand. They stood up and joined the dance floor. Draco had had some of his pre-Hogwarts preparatory classes, including dance, piano, French, Latin and English, with Pansy and a private teacher. So they were used to dancing together, which made it easier.
They stood face to face and he curtsied to her to make her laugh. Then they moved closer together and Draco put his arm around Pansy's waist to start the waltz. On the other side of the dance floor, Blaise was dancing with Daphne Greengrass, and Nott with Millicent Bulstrode. Pansy and Draco twirled around for long minutes, chatting in low voices, mostly commenting on the awful dresses of some of the ladies at the wedding, which made them giggle.
"Do you want to sleep at the Manor tonight?" offered Draco.
"I can't, I have to go home with my father."
Hearing this, Draco reflexively looked for the man in question in the crowd around him. He had remained seated at the table, wearing his usual grey suit, looking deeply bored.
At that moment, Mrs. Zabini brushed past Pansy as she danced in her husband's arms, and sent them a big, charming smile:
"Are you having fun?" she asked.
"Yes, great!" replied Draco and Pansy in chorus. "You look beautiful, Mrs. Zabini." added Pansy.
"Thank you my dear," said Blaise's mother.
"We hope to see your wedding soon, too!" commented Allan with a big smile of encouragement.
They walked further out onto the dance floor.
"Your wedding?" Draco looked back at Pansy, who had stopped dancing. They looked at each other, their eyes rounded, and they burst out laughing together, and their laughter reverberated long against the sky lanterns.
Hermione
.
.
"Dear Hermione,
Harry still hasn't replied to my letters and I'm really starting to worry. My father told me that a levitation spell was cast on him in front of Muggles, and that he received a warning letter from the Ministry of Magic.
His aunt and uncle sound really horrible, I'm afraid something's happened to him. Fred and George and I have decided to go and rescue him from his house tonight and bring him back to the Burrow. Mum will be delighted to have him here. You're welcome too, of course, if you're not too busy.
How is your summer going? Here, everything is as usual. I'll send you news of Harry as soon as I can.
I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts,
Ron."
Hermione reread Ron's letter several times, her eyebrows furrowed. The fact that Harry had received a warning letter was definitely not a good sign, his family must have really pushed him to the limit to do magic unintentionally. She unfolded a piece of parchment that was on her desk and smoothed it out to write her reply in a hurry, offering to do their book shopping with her the following week.
When she looked at the poor owl that had flown to her, she wasn't sure whether to send it again. It looked exhausted, and was missing feathers. She gave him a few drops of her tea, some crumbs from a biscuit, and when it was ready, she hung up her letter, not too sure, repeating "The Burrow, Ron Weasley" (she had understood that was what Ron's family called their house) several times. Hermione watched the poor owl fly dangerously over the road. It looked like it could have crashed at any moment.
She came down from her room and found her parents in front of the TV, drinking tea.
"Ron sent me a letter, he told me that Harry had just received a warning letter for performing a spell in front of his aunt and uncle. He told me he was going to get him from his house, and that he would send me news of him soon..."
"Oh!" her mother exclaimed, looking out the window as if Ron's owl would instantly reappear.
"Didn't you say it was forbidden to practice magic outside of Hogwarts?" her father asked.
"Yes, that's why I'm worried. If he's practising magic when he knows it's forbidden, he must not have controlled it. Maybe he was too angry, or too sad..."
"How are his aunt and uncle with him?"
"Horrible. They're mean, Harry looks like he's being mistreated over there. I hope Ron can get him to come home..."
"Mistreated'? And McGonagall doesn't say anything?"
Her parents had grown accustomed to thinking that McGonagall was in charge of all the running of Hogwarts, after seeing her at their house the year before.
"They're his only family..." Hermione replied with a shrug.
"Well, if he needs to, he can always come here." Hermione's mother suggested. "Maybe if we're the ones to go and get him, as Muggles, his aunt and uncle will be more willing to let him go..."
"That's sweet, but Ron's already picking him up right now."
Her parents nodded, unconvinced. Hermione was so anxious: she wanted Ron to get Harry out that horrible house he was supposed to spend his summer in, but at the same time, she was afraid that Ron would risk much worse by trying to forcibly remove him from his house, perhaps illegally (especially if he was helped by Fred and George).
Hermione spent the rest of the day and evening watching the news with her parents. She was expecting to see some news item that would tell her whether Ron had completed his mission or not, but fortunately there were no accidents reported that would explain what Ron had done. When the weather lady appeared on the screen, Hermione wished her parents a good night and went to bed, still a little anxious for her best friend.
Fortunately, Ron's answer came the next day, still brought by his poor owl who was in worse shape than before. She opened the parchment and tried to decipher Ron's writing:
"Dear Hermione,
Harry has arrived. We haven't done anything illegal, and Harry is in no danger. His Muggles are really mad, there were bars on his windows and they hardly gave him any food! Anyway, hopefully he'll stay at the Burrow until the end of the summer.
Mum has agreed that we should all go to Diagon Alley next Wednesday. Shall we meet on the steps of Gringotts at 9am?
Don't work too hard!
See you then,
Ron."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Harry was safe and sound, in Ron's house. She could only look forward to seeing them the following Wednesday on Diagon Alley.
Draco
.
.
Draco spent the rest of August with Blaise. His mother was away on her honeymoon for over a month in the Caribbean, so Blaise was all alone in his big house. Draco only came home for dinner occasionally, when his parents were exceptionally there, or to pick up clothes.
Pansy and Nott were often there, too. Both their fathers, equally austere, were regularly away on 'secret missions', which suited the two Slytherins just fine. Blaise played Quidditch with him every day, and this afternoon Pansy even donned her Keeper's gloves to play with them. She rose into the air and positioned herself in front of the three hoops with an air of defiance.
Draco began to toss the Quaffle, avoiding the Bludger that Blaise was throwing. As there were only three of them, they had to play several roles at the same time. Blaise was a Beater, Chaser and Seeker, just like Draco, and Pansy's job was to try and block all the Quaffle, no matter who they came from. Surprisingly, while she didn't particularly like Quidditch, Pansy had turned out to be a very good Keeper, almost always managing to stop Blaise or Draco from scoring.
Draco sent the Bludger against Blaise who dodged it docilely, while he raced towards Pansy to score. He threw the Quaffle, aiming for the topmost hoop, but Pansy was quicker and threw it back, allowing Draco to recover. He almost got hit by the Bludger, then threw the Quaffle, but Pansy stopped him before he could pass the hoop. Draco let out an expletive through his teeth.
Blaise watched the field for the Golden Snitch as Pansy picked up the Quaffle and threw it randomly into the air. It was Blaise who caught it first, Draco chasing after him at full speed, until the Bludger grazed their heads. Draco caught the Quaffle, which Blaise threw at the same time, and he passed through the hoop that Pansy was not guarding.
"Ten points for me!" shouted Draco, raising his arms in victory.
"No, 10 points for me. I'm the one who threw him through the hoop!" contested Blaise.
"What?" shouted Drago. "Nonsense, I got the Quaffle first."
"No, I had already thrown it."
"Pansy?"
The concerned woman shrugged:
"I didn't see."
"Nott?" asked Draco, turning to the boy who was sitting in the grass.
Blaise and Draco moved down to the ground to hear him, but Nott was captivated by a book and hadn't noticed that Draco had spoken to him.
"Nott!" repeated Draco. "Who scored, Blaise or me?"
Nott sighed, rolling his eyes:
"Stop calling me that."
"What? Nott? Isn't that your name?"
"No, it's my father's name. I hate it."
"Okay, should I call you Theodore, then?" scoffed Draco.
"No, call me Theo, like everyone else!"
Draco pouted, then shrugged vaguely: he was too used to calling him Nott, but he didn't mind calling him Theo. He had an annoying habit of calling people he didn't know or like by their last names, but Theo had become one of his closest friends now.
"Theodore Jr Nott, can you tell us who scored?" asked Blaise in an imperious tone as he landed on the floor.
"I don't know, I was reading."
"You are a very bad referee." commented Blaise with a smile.
"For your information, Blaise Zabini, I never agreed to be an referee, I'm not going to spend my time watching you throw a ball in the air while I could be reading a..."
But Draco didn't hear the end of Theo's sentence, because a golden flash had just knocked the wind out of him. He saw, above him, the Golden Snitch, and no sooner had he set eyes on it than it flapped away in the other direction. Draco went after it at full speed. He felt the warm summer air lift his hair and deafen him, but he was so focused on the little golden ball that he almost didn't notice.
He reached out, slid down the handle of his broom, and felt the little silver wings of the Golden Snitch close in his hand. As he closed his fist, he heard Pansy exclaim:
"Well done Draco! He caught it, the Golden Snitch!"
Draco grinned with all his teeth and crossed the field in the other direction to find his friends. All three of them were cheering, even Theo.
"You're really good at being a Seeker, Dray," Blaise remarked. "Every time, you're the one who catches it, you don't give me a chance!"
"Yeah, but what's the point if I'm not on the team?"
"If you keep practicing, you'll get in eventually." said Blaise as he went back on his broom to start a game again.
Draco watched as his friend regained his position in the air, hoping he was right. Nothing would make him happier than to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, and beat Harry Potter.
Draco
.
.
One August evening, while Draco was having a snack at Blaise's house, he saw his owl Ebony knocking on the window with his beak. Draco let him in and unfolded the note he was carrying:
"Draco,
We'll do your school supplies tomorrow, on Diagon Alley, in the morning. Your father will come too. Please come home for dinner tonight.
See you later,
Mum."
Blaise, who had read the paper over his best friend's shoulder, slapped his back:
"With any luck, your father will buy you a broom!"
"I hope so. He said he would in a letter when I was at Hogwarts, I hope he hasn't changed his mind."
Draco stayed at Blaise's house until late afternoon, and then, he walked back to the Manor along the main village road. As he passed Pansy's house, he noticed that the shutters of her room were closed and the lights were off.
When he entered, there was no one in the Hall, nor in the main rooms on the ground floor. When he arrived in the living room, he found his mother sitting on the couch reading, totally unperturbed by the noise that seemed to be coming from the basement. Narcissa looked up at her son and informed him:
"Your father is in the room where he keeps his collection of dark magic items, there are raids coming from the Ministry and your father wants to sell some of them."
Draco nodded. He sat down next to his mother and asked:
"Mother, do you think it would be possible for me to make the Slytherin Quidditch team this year?"
Narcissa put her book down on the coffee table and looked at Draco with a frown:
"Isn't it the captain's choice?"
"Yes... But I figured since Father had influence... Maybe he'd manage to get me on the team."
Narcissa looked at him for a long moment, a crease between her two eyebrows. Then she said softly:
"I'm sure he can do something to give you a boost, yes... But Draco, I mostly think you're talented enough to make the team without your father's help. I've seen you play before, and Blaise says you're a very good player."
"I know, but I'd rather ask. I wouldn't want to miss this year's admissions."
"We'll see what we can do." she said with a small smile as she gently ruffled Draco's lock on his forehead.
Just then, Lucius arrived in the living room. He was holding a scroll in his hand, on which he had obviously listed all the items that were a problem.
"Done. The Ministry won't find anything here, if I manage to sell it all by tomorrow... Raids... Probably that scoundrel Arthur Weasley, that Muggle and mudblood lover..."
Lucius spent the rest of the evening and dinner complaining about the actions of the Ministry of Magic, and especially about Arthur Weasley. Draco only listened with one ear, not very interested in his father's trade in evil things. He didn't really understand the point of having so many items that they couldn't use, and that could cause problems during inspections.
When dinner was over, Draco walked mechanically to the back of his garden. He could see the figure of Pansy lying in the grass, surrounded by several peacocks sleeping under the stars. He crossed the garden and stood beside her, facing the sky.
"How did you know I was here and not at Blaise's?" he asked.
"I stopped by Blaise's before coming home, he told me you were back. I spent the afternoon at Millicent's."
Pansy then launched into an account of her afternoon, specifically the latest gossip she had learned at her friend's house. Draco listened to her as she stared at the stars, and then they talked about Hogwarts, and Draco's resolution to do better work so that his grades would improve.
Pansy didn't think it was important, she told him that her father hadn't yelled at her for not being in the class rankings as long as she moved on to the next class each year, but promised Draco that she would help him study the hard subjects.
.
.
.
.
The next day, Dobby woke Draco up at an hour that was far too early for him. He had spent most of the night in the garden with Pansy, and had not slept enough at all. He dressed slowly and joined his parents, who were waiting for him outside the entrance to the Manor.
"About time." Lucius snarled.
"Hello Father." said Draco with a yawn. "Why are we going to Diagon Alley so early?"
"I have to get to Borgin and Burkes before the shop is full of people. I have to sell. Do you want to come with me?"
Draco agreed, because he was intrigued by Knockturn Alley. His father had only taken him a few times, and he thought that if he spent some time with him, he might agree to give him a broom. Narcissa refused: she didn't like the company of this street at all, which she found too gloomy.
They arrived at the unusually crowded Diagon Alley and parted ways: Lucius and Draco headed for Knockturn Alley, while Narcissa walked the opposite way to Gringotts to get the money from one of their safes for their purchases.
As they walked towards the dark Alley, Draco watched his father out of the corner of his eye. He looked agitated, but Draco thought this was the best time to ask him something before he talked about his business, so he cleared his throat:
"Father?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I have a broom?"
Usually, Draco was allowed anything he wanted. The important thing was to ask at the right times, when his father's mood wasn't too bad or he wasn't too worried about something else.
"What?"
Draco rolled his eyes: he was too preoccupied, he wasn't even listening to him.
"Can I have a broom?" repeated Draco.
"Don't you already have one in very good condition at home?"
"Yes, but it's old. I'd like a 2000 Nimbus, or even a 2001 Nimbus..."
Lucius showed no sign that he had heard, too busy zigzagging between people to find the shop he was looking for. Draco added with a grumble:
"Even Harry Potter has one."
Lucius stopped and looked at Draco:
"Potter? He has a good broom?"
"Yes!"
"He's on the Gryffindor team?"
Draco almost rolled his eyes again, tired of having to tell his father the same thing over and over again:
"Yes, while he was a first year. It's one of the only times a first year has made the team in a century, or something... Perfect Potter with his perfect team and his powerful broom..." grumbled Draco.
His father seemed to think for a few seconds, before nodding firmly:
"I'll see what I can do. I'll get you a broom, and I'll make sure you're on the Slytherin team. It'll give you a good reputation. I could use my seat on the board."
Draco gloated as he walked: the Slytherin team, his dream! He was a little bitter that his father wanted him to go for his reputation, but as long as he knew he was taken, he was fine with it. So he accompanied his father into the shop of Borgin and Burkes with a small, satisfied smile on his lips, which faded the moment they entered.
The shop was dark, gloomy, and the salesman was repulsive. Draco wanted to get out the moment he entered. He understood now why his mother had refused, and regretted not having accompanied her to Gringotts instead.
Fortunately, the visit was relatively short. Draco left the cluttered shop and he and his father walked along Knockturn Alley. Draco looked at the dusty, evil shop windows all the way, until they found the quiet of Diagon Alley, where his mother was waiting. In the meantime, she had found a friend of hers, whom she proudly introduced to her husband and son, and Draco had forgotten her name the moment she introduced herself.
Draco went with his father to the necessary shops to buy what he needed: quills, ink, a new cauldron, rolls of parchment. He also bought a small gift for Pansy: a set of quills and inks so that she could write in the journal she had "received" for Christmas, or rather had taken from Draco's pile of presents.
Finally, they headed for the last shop of the day: Flourish and Blotts. Narcissa had preferred to go to the tea room with her friend to exchange the latest gossip. So it was Lucius who accompanied Draco, and when he arrived at the shop window, he heard his father grumbling. He frowned as he looked at the sign:
"Today, from 12:30 to 4:30, GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing his autobiography MAGICAL ME!"
He looked at his father, surprised to see that he didn't like the author signing, but he realised at once that Lucius wasn't looking at the author, but at the person standing next to the podium: Arthur Weasley. At least, that was what Draco assumed, given that he was a red-haired man surrounded by lots of other little red-haired men, his children.
Draco entered the shop, pushing aside the crowd that had gathered in front of it to observe the stage. There was Harry Potter, clutching Gilderoy Lockhart and staring at the camera in front of him. Just the sight of him made Draco's blood boil. He waited for Potter to reach the front of the shop, where he handed his books to a girl Draco had not seen. She was a redhead, with freckles on her nose. Another Weasley? Again?!
"That must have made you happy, Potter?" snapped Draco contemptuously. "The famous Harry Potter, he can't even walk into a bookstore without making the front page of the papers."
A small voice squeaked:
"Leave him alone, it wasn't his fault."
It took Draco a few seconds to realise that the high-pitched voice was coming from the little Weaslette, whose brown eyes were flashing at him.
"So, Potter, have you got yourself a girlfriend yet?" said Draco in an amused tone.
The Weaslette turned as red as her brother when he insulted him. This made the blond chuckle. Speaking of his brother, Ron Weasley walked up to them and looked at Draco with a look of disgust, followed closely by Granger whose hair was flying around her like a halo of curls.
"Ah, it's you. You must be surprised to see Harry here, right?" said Ron.
"What surprises me more is seeing you in a shop, Weasley." Draco replied. "Your parents won't have anything to eat for a month after buying you all those books."
Weasley's face turned equally crimson. He wanted to go over and fight, but Potter and Granger held him back.
"Ron!" called the Weasleys' father as he pushed his way through the crowd, accompanied by all his little Weasleys that Draco couldn't even count anymore. "What are you doing? Come on, let's get out, it's crazy here."
Draco felt a presence behind him, and his father's icy voice rang out from behind him:
"Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley."
"Lucius." replied Arthur coldly, losing his smile.
"A lot of work at the Ministry, I hear... All these raids... I hope they're paying you overtime, at least?"
His father reached out to pull one of the worn-out manuals out of the Weaslette's cauldron.
"Apparently not." her father continued. "What's the point of dishonouring the wizarding profession if you're not even paid well for it?"
Father Weasley turned as red as his two children. Why was it that all these strange people had the annoying habit of blushing whenever they were spoken to?
"We have different ideas of what a wizard's honour should be, Malfoy," Arthur replied.
"There's no doubt about it. You've been hanging out with some strange people, Weasley... I didn't think your family could sink any lower..."
Draco wanted to look in the direction his father was looking, realizing at that moment that he was probably talking about Granger's parents. Muggles. Draco had never seen them up close, he was curious to see what they might look like, but he couldn't see who his father was talking about, because he was flung violently to the side.
Arthur Weasley had just thrown himself at his father, and Draco watched in horror as dozens of thick books fell on them as they both struggled. Draco saw his father slap Arthur Weasley's face haphazardly as he groaned in pain, before they were separated by Hagrid, who had appeared out of nowhere. They both got to their feet, and Lucius brushed the dust off his cloak with a look of disgust.
"Here, young lady, take your book. Your father will never be able to offer you anything better." hissed Lucius as he tossed the book into Weaslette's bag, before walking out of the shop.
Draco followed him, silent. He had probably rarely seen his father so angry, and his eye was purple from the impact of a huge book he had taken on his face. Draco didn't dare tell him that he'd had a left eye like his a few weeks earlier, and in exactly the same circumstances: fighting with a Weasley.
Hermione
.
.
Hermione and her parents said goodbye to the Weasleys and Harry shyly before heading back to Charing Cross Road. Her parents were still shocked by the altercation between Arthur and Lucius Malfoy, and although she had to admit that she certainly hadn't expected Ron's father to get so upset, Hermione had been glad to see that he had fought back. This Lucius Malfoy sounded like an abominable man, even worse than his son who was obviously trying to copy his example.
Rachel and John didn't speak until they were in the underground, where her mother sighed, as if they were safe now.
"Arthur did the right thing fighting that vile man." she said quietly so as not to be overheard.
Hermione agreed.
"Wizards don't like Muggles much, do they?" her father asked.
"Yes they do! The Weasleys loved you."
"Yes, it's true, Arthur is very nice." Hermione's father conceded with a smile. "It's very funny to explain to a man the workings of such basic objects as a remote control. But I wanted to talk about that Lucius... Lucius Malfoy?"
Hermione lowered her head sadly, a little ashamed of having kept this from her parents:
"Hm... Some wizarding families consider themselves... elite. They think they deserve a better place in the magical community because they don't have 'Muggle blood' in their veins. Which is complete nonsense, and untrue."
"They're Muggle racists?" her mother asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes... They consider themselves 'purebloods'. But that's only certain very old families, like the Malfoys. The Weasleys are purebloods too, but they don't discriminate against you, or me, at all."
Hermione's parents digested these words with furrowed brows, as the robotic voice from the tube announced, "Piccadilly Circus."
"And her son..."
"Draco Malfoy."
"Draco Malfoy... is he a friend of yours?"
Hermione widened her eyes:
"No, he's not. I hate him."