-O-
"Be certain you're seen with the right people, Draco. You want your first impression to be a good one. Regardless of my thoughts on the- shall we say, suitability of Albus Dumbledore as headmaster, he still holds that title and it would serve you well to impress him and the other professors." Lucius cast a wary eye around at the muggles passing the little family on all sides who gave side long glances at their wizarding attire. "After all, it is the headmaster that chooses prefects and head boy in just a handful of years. And having those titles will serve you well in future business dealings. Not to mention, it will be highly advantageous in a marriage contract."
Lucius emphasised his words with a slight tap on Draco's shoulder with the tip of his fanged cane. Draco fought his instinct to draw away from his father.
Marriage contract talk, again? The idea of getting married made him cringe. Who wants to think about being married to a woman when you've barely turned eleven?
Narcissa sniffed. "You don't want to be stuck with that Parkinson girl when you can have a Greengrass or an Abbott." Draco smiled to himself. Pansy often reminded him of his mother. Both of them loved clothes, and flowers, and having tea. And they both enjoyed the chance to dote on Draco. Draco could not figure out for the longest time why Narcissa did not seem to like Pansy. Then his father told him that women don't typically like competition from other women, and he thought he kind of understood.
The family of three approached the entrance of Kings Cross station, drawing away from the hustle and bustle of the crowd as they hurried into the station's shops for a muggle newspaper or a late breakfast. As they passed a small bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread wafted into the passageway, and Draco greened slightly.
Normally he loved the smell of baking bread when Tiffy made it in their kitchens back home, but after experiencing side along apparition into the coat closet of a nearby office building, the designated apparition point for this area of London, Draco still felt nauseous. Usually, the family traveled by floo powder, but the closest floo connection was a little over a quarter mile of Kings Cross station, inside the Standard Hotel. Because there was a bit of rain, and because the walk was a bit far, Narcissa had refused to walk from the Standard in her nicest heels.
Heaven forbid his mother not appear in the latest fashions whilst traveling in both muggle London and to platform nine and three quarters, where many in the wizarding world would be gathered today. Not that Narcissa was trying to impress the people she met; she had already impressed anyone who mattered, in any case. Rather, drawing their attention and their envy was much more pleasurable.
"Mum, I'm really not interested in getting married. I just turned eleven for Merlin's sake!" Draco's fingernails came up to his mouth out of habit, and Narcissa's hand grabbed his, pulling his fingers back down.
"Please restrain yourself from biting your nails. It is unseemly." Narcissa's clipped tones were low. When it was just the two of them out, she was kind and sweet towards Draco. But when the three of them traveled anywhere together, she was often this way, more on edge. Lucius's presence seemed to have that effect on her.
"And for Merlin's sake," Lucius's mocking words were muttered threateningly. "Please refer to your mother as Mother."
-O-
The sodding etiquette lessons never seemed to stop. Draco still remembered the week after his fifth birthday when he'd had his first session with Madame Laurent.
He had been playing outside on his toy broomstick with Theo, occasionally ducking behind the oak trees in the grove near his mother's gardens to avoid catching the eye of his house elf, Pim. As much as he loved Pim, he could tell the elf had something for him to do that he wouldn't like. Pim had a flannel to clean his face in hand and a fresh pair of trousers, an Oxford shirt in his size, and a small set of light blue robes hovering behind him.
It was the middle of the day, just the beginning of summer, and the last thing Draco wanted to do was to put on the scratchy clothes that his mother insisted he wear for teas and parties. Mum had not mentioned a party or a special tea today. His muddy short trousers and old shirt were fine for broomstick rides and gnome hunting. What was this outfit for?
However, his attention waned and he was caught before long. Scrubbed clean and changed into the new clothes, his unruly white-blond hair tamed with a snap of Pim's fingers, he took the hand of his elf and reluctantly followed him inside.
As they approached a room Draco had never been in, his steps stuttered. He turned to Pim, their eyes at the same height despite the many years difference in their ages.
"What's this room?"
"Tis your classroom, Master Draco. You are learning how to be a gentleman."
"I don't want to be a jint man, Pim!" Unbidden, the childish tears began to well in his eyes. He had so been looking forward to being five years old. In his mind it meant more freedom from the babyish confines of his wing in the manor. Days spent searching for frogs in the pond and moles in the grove. Picnicking under his favourite crepe myrtle at the corner of his mother's flower gardens. Splashing in the pool, the waters charmed to sparkle and dance like the fountains he had seen in muggle London when they visited at Christmas last year. Not learning! And what was a jint man anyway?
But the lessons were inevitable. First etiquette, then elocution, dance, manners, arithmetic, literature, herbology, Latin, French, piano, violin. Interspersed with these formal lessons were what Draco had come to think of as wizard lessons with his father. The best investments. How to read a handshake. The proper ratio of fire whiskey to water. How to sip fire whiskey without grimacing. How to speak to ministry officials and get your way without appearing to sway them. How to light and hold a cigar. How to tie a cravat. And how to think of the people and creatures who were beneath him.
The first time Lucius use the term mudblood, Draco was confused. Were there people that had mud in their blood? How did it move? Was it like the mud by the pond?
And the first time Draco saw Lucius strike his house elf Dobby, Draco had flinched himself even though he was ten feet away. Draco had seen Dobby in the kitchens lots of times when he accompanied Pim to visit his sister Tiffy. Constantly hunched over, afraid of his own shadow, Dobby seemed nice, and Draco didn't think he'd done anything to deserve a smack from Lucius. But his father knew best.
One thing that both his mother and father had always emphasised was that Draco was destined for greatness. The future head of two Sacred Twenty Eight families, likely the smartest wizard of his age, a sort of anointed one. For a long time, Draco had believed them entirely. In fact, he still sort of understood it. Both Lucius's and Narcissa's families were very noble and extensive, if the portraits on the walls of the manor had anything to say about it. And with all of these lessons, most of which he had sailed through, he had no doubt that he was smart.
But part of him could not help but notice that his friend Theo had an easier time talking with both other children and with adults; Miles and Marcus flew better and were stronger and bigger than him; Tracey always had a knack for remembering the correct Latin word when prompted, or could remember large sums in her head for hours at a time. He might be noble and anointed and important, but he wasn't singularly the best at everything. Regardless of what nice things his mother and father said.
-O-
The small family had finally arrived at platform nine and three quarters. Despite the admonishments from his parents, an effusive bubbling began in Draco's stomach. This was it. He was finally going to be on his own, be his own person. They stepped through the barrier, and immediately something in the air changed, it felt different than the place from which they'd come.
Magic crackled in the air, a hubbub of voices filled the space. Owls flapped in cages, cats yowled from baskets, the occasional toad croaked morosely from a robe pocket. A young girl with a lute played tunelessly for her older siblings, much to the annoyance of those around them. Teenagers laughed and called out to each other over the crowd, happy to be together again after the summer break.
The crowd seemed merry, jostling each other and turning to greet friends and acquaintances alike. But not the Malfoys. Draco noticed how the crowd seemed to draw away, their spirits dampening slightly as their eyes turned to the three. Draco's throat felt dry. Why were so many people looking at them?
Ahead, Theo and his house elf Franklin were arriving, Theo looking around nervously. Just as Draco was about to call out to his friend, likely drawing the ire of his father, another boy approached Theo. The boy had an easy smile and lively dark eyes, his dark hair cropped closely to his coffee coloured skin. Draco did not recognise him, but tried a small smile as he approached the duo.
"Ah, finally, Draco! Thought you might have gotten lost, you tosser!" Too late to draw back his words, Theo spotted Lucius and Narcissa a few steps behind Draco. "Sorry, Mrs. Malfoy." Theo's natural vivacity and easy grin belied his rude words. Draco envied his friend's easy manner. Theo never seemed to struggle for a word or act embarrassed.
"Yes, please watch your language Theo. And who is your friend?" Lucius turned a cool appraising look at the other boy.
"Hello, I'm Blaise Zabini. My mother, Aaradhya and I have just moved here from Italy. My mother married Vicram Selwyn last autumn. I've gotten to know Theo over the last two years, as Mr. Nott and my stepfather have worked together on a number of... projects." The boy's cool voice seemed to catch a moment as he finished his sentence.
Draco's teeth clenched in nervousness that he tried to tamp down. He had overheard the beginnings and endings of a handful of low conversations between his father and Vicram Selwyn and Tiberius Nott over the years. More than once, the words mudblood and ministry reached his ears. The conversations never seemed urgent, but often seemed angry.
"It's lovely to meet you, Blaise," Narcissa said, her smile reaching her eyes. His father, however, seemed less inclined to offer niceties to the newcomer.
"What a highly unusual name, Zabini. Is your family a branch of the Zibanovichs of Prussia?" Lucius's hardened eyes studied Blaise thoughtfully.
"I don't believe so. My father died when I was a baby. He was a half blood, his muggle family had owned a vineyard for centuries near La Spezia."
"And your mother?" Lucius asked sharply.
"A pure blood from England by way of India," Blaise provided smoothly. Draco admired the easy way that Blaise had of meeting his father's eye. Draco himself still struggled with this.
After a moment or two of other pleasantries, Blaise and Theo spotted Marcus Flint further down the platform. They excused themselves and Draco turned back to his parents, wondering how much longer until boarding.
"Ah, and here are the Crabbe and Goyle families." Lucius's eyes sparked in a way that strangers might take as friendship, but Draco recognised as his father's feelings of superiority. He turned to see a group of lumbering people making their way towards them, the crowd parting (or in some cases being parted) in front of them. Draco gave a small inaudible sigh.
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were two boys his own age whose fathers also conducted the occasional "project" with Draco's father. On occasions in which the men had met in Lucius's study, it was up to Draco to entertain the lumbering boys. Goyle did not speak much, content to practice creating a flame with his fingertips (a skill at which he was largely unsuccessful) or pick his nose and flick the bogeys either into the grass or at his companions. Crabbe was only slightly more verbose, but seemed infinitely more stupid. He constantly smelled of meat and could often be seen scratching at his dandruff. Neither boy was a very good flyer. When Draco suggested practicing quidditch in the grove, it became apparent that the two boys had very little athletic inclination.
Crabbe and Goyle were accompanied by their beefy and equally silent parents. Crabbe's older sister Audrey stood slightly apart from the family with an ugly look on her face, as if to say that she was not with them, despite the fact that she was an even amalgamation of her two stodgy and plain parents. Goyle's younger brothers Thomas and Edgar, aged 6, fidgeted in their new looking robes. Draco had never seen such a short yet extremely wide set of wizarding robes. He briefly wondered how Madame Malkin made them so wide, or so short. She was known to not use magic in her alterations, instead altering robes by hand. Did she take adult robes and cut them off, or did she widen children's robes? Draco wondered.
-O-
As the adults exchanged pleasantries and the children fidgeted, Draco's mind drifted back to a few weeks prior when he had visited Madame Malkin's shop. There had been a boy around his age also getting fitted for school robes. He was unfamiliar to Draco, which was intriguing. Draco had really only known a handful of other pure blood witches and wizards his own age over the years, mainly the children of his father's and mothers associates and friends. It gave him a thrill of excitement, that very soon at school, there would be a whole lot of new people that he had never spent time with.
The chance to talk to someone outside of his circle was interesting. Draco had tried to chat with him, joking around about the crazy looking man outside, asking which house the boy planned to be in. The boy seemed soft spoken and confused and it made Draco irrationally annoyed. He had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts for years, thumbing through Lucius's and Narcissa's old textbooks, occasionally borrowing his mother's wand to make things levitate or move. Before falling asleep at night, he replayed daydreams of catching the snitch or throwing a quaffle whilst dressed in the sleek green kit of Slytherin, much like the ones his father had hanging in the back of his closet. He finally had someone new with whom to talk about it, a stranger about to have the same exciting experiences, and the boy seemed to know nothing.
A train whistle pulled Draco out of this memory, and he turned automatically to his father, stretching out his hand for a handshake. It was time. Suddenly maudlin, Draco next turned to his mother, accepting her delicate hug. When she drew away, her eyes were equally as glassy as his own.
"I'll send Colwin with some sweets and a letter later this week. Don't forget, he likes the brown treats, not the green ones. And remember, he doesn't like his talons touched if you can help it. Be certain you go up and visit with your owl Thorn in the owlery occasionally, and send letters often. Have a school elf press your robes every night. Be certain to eat a good breakfast every day before class. Go to bed on time- and don't sneak out, you don't want to lose points for your house."
Now that the time to part had drawn nigh, Narcissa's constant stream of advice could not be slowed. Draco gave a small smile and hugged her once more, whispering in her ear, "I'll be fine, Mum."
He turned to find Crabbe and Goyle waiting for him. Looking around Goyle's shoulder, he searched in vain for Theo and Blaise, but the two other boys had evidently already boarded. Huffing in annoyance, Draco realised he was stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
He gave a small smile, picturing the two great gits in front of him dressed in red short trousers with silly hats perched on their massive heads. It made him a little sad, thinking of the numerous times that Pim had read that story to him before bed. Draco knew the book by heart it seemed, the boisterous and gaudily drawn pictures on the page staying resolutely still despite Draco's fervent wish that they moved like some of his other books.
That book, like a handful of others, were kept in a box in the bottom of his closet, away from his other books on his bookshelf. He didn't know exactly why, but he had a feeling that his father would not like those books. Perhaps something in the way that Narcissa and Pim referred to them. Your special books, they called them. Each book had a similar inscription in the front. "To my darling nephew Draco, remember that the world can be yours, even if sometimes it feels like it wasn't made for you. -Aunt A."
Draco had no idea who Aunt A was. A few times, Lucius had referred to his mother's sister with a slight grimace. Lucius had no siblings who'd lived to adulthood. Never, in all Draco's years at the manor, had there been a mention of an Aunt A.
Onboard the train, Draco sat with Crabbe and Goyle, opposite a handful of other students who looked too scared to speak. It was going to be a long train ride in this car. Draco stood to stretch, turning to no one in particular and saying, "I'm going to go walk around."
To his surprise the two oafish boys stood up as well, as if to follow. Draco turned to hide his confusion and set off down the passageway. As he passed other compartments, he heard whispers, students turning to each other in excitement. He stopped at the compartment with Theo and Blaise, where they sat opposite Pansy Parkinson and Tracy Davis.
"What's got everyone's knickers in a twist, then?" Draco asked casually, glad to have found Theo at last. At least Theo could string together two thoughts without straining himself.
"I overheard some of the Weasleys talking, and they said Harry Potter is on the train. Have you seen him?" Theo asked.
Draco sucked in a breath involuntarily. He knew who Harry Potter was. Everyone in the wizarding world did. His mother spoke of Potter's mother with a cool kind of respect, and of his father with a guarded smile. Draco knew that they had been older students when Potter's parents went to Hogwarts. Pim and Tiffy spoke reverently about Potter, saying that he had faced down a very bad man when he was only a baby.
But it was Lucius who put all of the pieces together in Draco's mind. How Potter's mother had been a mudblood, how she had cheated her way into top marks as a first and second year whilst he was at Hogwarts, and how Potter's father had weaseled his way on to Gryffindor's quidditch team as a second year.
Lucius had given Draco the entire story of how his dear friend and mentor was struck down by the Potters, killed in his prime just as he was getting his organisation off the ground. How his mentor had killed James and Lily Potter, and left their infant son to rot with muggles. How everyone else in the wizarding world had made up a nonsense story about the Potter baby bringing down Lucius's mentor, or perhaps being a dark wizard himself, despite being just a baby. It wasn't one hundred percent clear to Draco exactly how it happened, but apparently the mentor was killed and the baby was alive at the end of it.
These discussions were confusing and uncomfortable for Draco. Talking about the ministry or whiskey or how to treat a wife were strange conversations, but they didn't make Draco's stomach knot like the conversations about Lucius's mentor did. Lucius insisted upon calling him the Dark Lord, or occasionally in a whispered voice after a few drinks, Lord Voldemort.
Draco was no fool; he knew his father dealt in dark arts occasionally, but this dark lord guy seemed to be on another level. It was times like this that Draco found himself glad that the bloke wasn't around anymore. Draco would put up with a meat smelling Crabbe all day, so long as this Voldemort and his undoubtedly creepy family that Draco would have to entertain didn't show up.
"Draco? Are you okay?" Pansy Parkinson looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Draco recalled himself from picturing a creepy and sinister looking fictional family with dark hair and dark eyes, turning instead to Pansy. They had also grown up together, much like him and Theo, but where Draco loved to fly and toss gnomes and search for worms in the dirt, Pansy seemed to enjoy picking flowers and petting Narcissa's cat Henrietta, or pretending to be a fancy lady at a ball, trying to convince Theo and Draco to dance.
"All good, Parks," he called to her, moving aside to let his over-sized companions further into the compartment. Tracy had a large bag of fizzing whizbees and had held it out to the boys to take one. Both boys took an overly large, greedy handful; Draco had a feeling it was hard for them to resist any offer of food.
Just then, behind him in the passageway, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned quickly to find two people. A red faced boy with yellow hair was looking at the ground as though he'd lost something.
But Draco was unable to give him a second glance when his eyes met the girl's. Her eyes seemed to glow like burnished copper as she offered him a small smile, dipping her head in greeting. After a moment Draco noticed that her hair seemed to be a crazy tangled cloud behind her. As he watched, her hair seemed to move on its own.
Her left hand, which had tapped his right shoulder, sat there for a moment on his upper arm because of how fast he had turned. Through his robes and his shirt, he could still feel the heat and pressure of her fingertips and it sent me a zing right to the middle of his body. What the hell was that?
Quickly, Draco registered that she was speaking but he had not caught any of her words.
"Nope, sorry, not seen him. We'll keep an eye out." Theo said, yawning and leaning his head back to dismiss the boy and girl from the already crowded compartment. They turn to go, but not before Draco had turned and looked back at the girl once more, staring into the coppery eyes again as if bidden to memorise them.
"Wow, she seemed crazy. And what the hell was up with that insane mane of hair?" Pansy giggled behind a dainty hand. Turning back to her with a slight frown, Draco muttered admonishments silently to himself. He came down here to find friends and have a decent conversation. It seems like this was the best option there was. He remembered his father's lessons on getting on people's good side. Agree with them, nod along with them, even if you don't exactly see eye to eye.
"Yeah, it was like a massive bush," Draco chuckled, cutting his eyes away from Blaise who appeared to be looking into Draco's brain whilst he quickly recovered from the other girl's presence.
Tracey and Pansy giggled, taking his words in turn to further eviscerate the other girl. Draco turned back to Theo. "What do you think Slytherin's chances will be in quidditch this year? Did Flint seem to think they would take the cup again?"
The chance encounter with the girl was forgotten for several hours, long after he'd encountered Potter, exchanging a tense handful of words with the boy he now recognised from that day in Madame Malkins. Draco had tried again to ingratiate himself with Potter, only to be rebuffed. If that's the way the prat wanted to play it, fine. He didn't need some famous tosser as a friend anyway. Certainly not if Potter was going to hang around with that loser, Weasley. Draco had heard enough from his father about Arthur Weasley and his family, he felt as though he knew them without really wanting to.
-O-
The train arrived, and the boats were sailed across the Black Lake (Draco had attempted to casually maneuver himself behind the girl with the bright eyes and bushy hair so that they might share a boat, but she was part of the group of four in front of him). He was stuck with Crabbe, Goyle, and Tracey Davis, who was quickly shoved to the side so that Pansy could take her place.
They clambered out clumsily and assembled in a small room, nervously waiting for the next step. Draco knew that the sorting was about to happen, and he had little doubt that he would be in Slytherin. With the last name of Malfoy, there was no room for error. He stood nearly a head taller than most of the other students in the room, and he spun about searching for the girl.
Perhaps she would be in Slytherin as well? His own mother as well as a handful of his friends' mothers had been in Slytherin, but somehow he didn't see the girl fitting in with them. No doubt they would have some comments about her hair. It was rather bushy, Draco thought with a small smile.
They were ushered into the Great Hall, a place that Draco was familiar with, as the son of a member of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts. Still, the sight of the place never failed to awe him. The sorting began, and it was here that Draco finally heard the girl's name. Hermione Granger. It was quite a mouthful, and yet it flowed over his tongue as he said it with his mouth closed. Hermione.
After the initial shock of the amount of syllables, Draco found that he quite liked it. He had never heard it before, though something about it seemed familiar. Perhaps his mother would know. Perhaps he would write to her and ask.
The girl stepped nervously up to the hat and placed it on her head. Please be Slytherin, thought Draco. Slytherin. Slytherin.
"Gryffindor!" The hat called out after a minute or so of consideration.
No. He could be friends with a Ravenclaw. Maybe even a Hufflepuff, if he were really desperate. But how could he be friends with her now? A Gryffindor? Surely not.
She turned, offering the hat back to McGonagall, her eyes alighting on the line of students behind her still to be sorted. The gleam of copper met his own silver eyes, and it was a moment before Draco was able to school his features into a cool look of casual indifference. Hermione walked to the Gryffindor table amid cheers, and Draco looked up to the ceiling. One thing was for sure: they were on opposite sides now.
-O-