Malfoy. A name known throughout every reach of the Wizarding World. It was a name that demanded respect...and fear. No one dared oppose the Malfoy patriarch, Lucius, for fear of something happening to them or their families. Even the Ministry of Magic bended when it came to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius, with his beautiful wife Narcissa, conceived a single child and heir to the Malfoy name and fortune.

Draco Malfoy.

He resembled his father with his silver blonde hair and pointy features, but everything else about him was his mother. From his slender and delicate frame to his pale, fair skin to slightly grayer eyes. Even with his strong resemblance to his mother, he was always referred to looking more like his father. Even as an 11 year-old boy he had his mother's beauty. He was leered at from behind his back by older, perverted men much to his parents' rage. These men soon regretted their actions though. Draco was an oblivious boy when it came to his feminine beauty and never noticed the looks he received nor the glares his parents sported at whomever dared to look at their son with such interest.

Even in Diagon Alley, filled with dozens of wizards who knew who the Malfoys were, still stared and gawked at the stunning Narcissa Malfoy and her beautiful young son, albeit more discreetly.

"Draco darling."

"Yes mother?" The young boy looked up at his mother with such wide, innocent and beautiful eyes. They stopped outside of Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"While you get fitted for your school robes, I shall go and look at the wands Ollivanders has on display, when you are done come meet me. Alright dear?"

"Yes mother."

"Good." His mother handed him a money pouch, turned on her heel as people stepped aside to let the beautiful woman through as they have done all day. Draco watched her go for a moment before entering the well-furnished shop. A squat, humble looking witch dressed from head to toe in mauve scurried over to him the second his foot crossed the threshold.

"Hogwarts, darling?" she said and, with a wave of her wand, a measuring tape started to take his measurements and a floating piece of parchment and quill wrote them down.

"Yes ma'am." Draco spoke, ever the one for manners. His mother would tan his hide if he was rude to Madame Malkin. She produced all his mother's robes after all.

"Let's get you fitted then," another wave of her wand and the measuring tape disappeared. "Right this way then deary." Draco followed the woman towards the fitting area in the back of the shop and, upon her request, stood on one of the many footstools and held his arms out. "Guinevere!" Another, drastically younger, witch emerge from a backroom carrying bolts of cloth.

"Yes Madame?" Her voice was breathy as she set the cloth on the counter.

"Will you help this young lady get fitted for her school robes?"


Draco made an oddly choking sound and coughed a few times to clear his throat.

"A-Ah, Madame? I'm...I'm not a girl." A blush starting from his neck traveled up to the points of his ears.

"Hmm? O-Oh! Terribly sorry!"

Madame Malkin had a blush to match Draco's as she hurried to help a newer customer. Guinevere, giggling like a school girl, began her job of fitting Draco's robes. Draco couldn't find himself being angered by Madame Malkin's small mistake on his gender. It happened quiet a bit whenever he met someone new. He was quite used to it by now, but that didn't mean he wasn't humiliated at being called a girl.

The Madame soon returned with another boy in tow. The first thing Draco noticed about the boy was his messy raven hair and shockingly green eyes. The squat witch got the newcomer set up next to the young Malfoy, slipped a long robe over his head and began pinning his black robes to the right length. Draco willed his blush away and looked over at the boy.

"Hello," he said politely, curiously in fact. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," the boy replied shortly. Draco frowned and tried to continue the conversation.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco hummed as he spoke in drawling voice with a bored undertone. "Then, I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own." He scoffed at the idea. "I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Draco wouldn't really. He didn't want to humiliate his parents by breaking school rules and getting caught. But he was speaking in his defense mechanism. Haughty and arrogant. Perfect Draco Malfoy.

The raven seemed to only be half-heartedly listening so Draco changed the subject to him.

"Have you got your own broom?"

"No," another short answer was all he received.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Draco frowned at the repeatedly short answers he was receiving. The boy had a barely concealed look of confusion on his face. Ah, he must be muggle-born or a half-blood or something. Draco personally had nothing against non-purebloods, but his parents words of blood supremacy were spoken almost daily towards him.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." Right, if he was muggle-born or even half-blood he probably doesn't know about houses. Draco inwardly chastised himself for his forgetfulness.

Draco tries to salvage the one-sided conversation.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," the boy nodded with a hum. Draco's face fell slightly. It wasn't like the boy could see, he refused to look at him. He sighed, about to give up talking to the darker-haired boy, when he saw the largest, most rugged man he ever laid eyes on. This man was the complete opposite of his father, that's for sure.

"I say, look at that man!" Draco spoke up suddenly, tossing a nod towards the front window where the large man was standing, grinning and pointing enthusiastically at two large ice creams.

"That's Hagrid," the boy sounded pleased and quirked a small, barely there smile. "He works at Hogwarts." Ah, that makes sense. Now that Draco thought about it, this Hagrid looked rather familiar. His father mentioned him on occasion when discussing Hogwarts. Never in a nice manner.

"Oh," said Draco, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," back to the short answers.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." Draco snickered and Guinevere poked him purposely with a pin when he shook to much.

"I think he's brilliant," he sounded cold and Draco looked away, trying to seem like he was looking at the different colored fabric hanging on the walls. He had upset the boy. He didn't want that. He really didn't.

"Do you?" Draco gave a slight sneer, his arrogant "better than you" mask back in place. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," it was a short, dull answer. As if he was discussing the weather. Draco just knew that meant he didn't want to breech the subject.

"Oh, sorry," said the grey-eyed boy. He tried to keep his voice as blank and plain as possible, even as his heart ached for the boy and his loss. "But," he hesitated and his father's words ring in his ears. "They...They were our kind, weren't they?" He could have kicked himself for that.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean. "

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" What are you doing? This is a horrible way to get to know someone. Shut up, Draco. "They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways." Stop talking. "Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" Draco's mouth kept running even as he mentally berated himself. He was such a bloody git.

But Madam Malkin spoke up before the other boy could answer, "That's you done, my dear," and Draco frowned as the boy eagerly hopped down from the footstool without even a glance over his shoulder at him as he was handed his bags and prepared to leave.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Draco drawled in a last ditch effort. But the boy didn't even acknowledge him as he left.

Draco was in a sour mood the rest of his fitting (this Guinevere was so slow) and through his walk to meet up with his mother and father.

His mother gave him a small smile and took the carefully wrapped robes from him, handing them off to Dobby, their house elf, who was already overburdened with bag of school supplies and Draco's new cauldron. Draco felt a stab of sympathy for the poor thing, but he didn't let it show. His parents disapproving looks were horrible to endure, knowing they were disappointed in him at all was horrible.

"Well then," Lucius Malfoy's deep, mellow voice caught his attention. "Let's get you you're wand then, Draco." Draco nodded, his head down. He was never able to look his father in the eyes. He just couldn't. Together, the Malfoy family entered the cluttered shop just as another boy and his mother was leaving. Narcissa gave the woman a superior look and the poor woman kept her head down as they scuttled out of the shop.

"Single mother, humph." Narcissa plastered on a smile as they approached the desk and an old man with a slightly disorganized and crazed look in his eyes slid down from a ladder with ease. Looks like he was pointing back failed wand matches.

"Ah!" He clapped his wrinkled and dotted hands together. He cast an intense look at Draco and the young boy refused to tear his eyes from the moon-like balls in Ollivander's skull. "The Malfoy family! I've been expecting you! Don't worry young Mr. Malfoy. I've never failed to match a wizard to a wand." He gave Draco an teasing, completely innocent, wink that made Draco's mother step the tad bit closer to him.

A tape measure once again began invading Draco's personal space, measuring far more than Madam Malkin's had. With a satisfied smile Ollivander disappeared behind a row of shelves and Draco heard his father give an impatient sigh. The elder man returned with a few wand boxes in hand.

And that's how it began. Draco tried dozens upon dozens, but none seemed to work too well for him. His mother and father slowly growing more and more impatient. And, to Draco's horror, his father had that look on his face. Draco's ears burned with embarrassment as Ollivander handed him a new wand after fixing a bookshelf Draco accidentally broke it.

"Let's see, try this one here. 10 inches, hawthorn wood with unicorn hair core, and reasonably springy."

Draco did and, to his joy, nothing broke as pinkish sparks erupted from the tip. Ollivander's eyes sparkled in triumph as he carefully took the wand back from Draco, placing it back in it's box and packaging it. "Perfect fit I believe, it'll be good for healing spells." He winked at Draco again and Lucius sneered at the thought of his only son becoming a healer. His mother quickly stepped in and paid the 7 galleons before snatching up Draco's wand and hurrying her son out the door.

Draco would have cast a thank you over his shoulder at Ollivander but his father already looked quite irritable.

They spent the next few hours finishing picking up Draco's school supplies. They passed that popular ice cream place, but Draco knew better than to ask for such a sweet.

"Remember to watch your weight Draco darling."

A shiver wracked up his spine.

"Are you cold Draco darling?"

"No mother."

"Hm, we need to buy you an owl. No son of mine will have a toad or rat as a pet or even a mangy cat!"

Draco winced at his mother's tone, but nodded all the same.

"Yes mother."