~Year: 1997

The purple of the flowers swam in your vision, looking like clouds in the hazy light. The sun beat down on your neck, which was bare, your long hair pulled up, held by a ribbon. You turned over, pressing your face into the earth, the dirt dusting your neck, staining your dress.

"Celia!" You hear some one shout from behind the tall hedges. "I give up." But you don't reveal yourself. Instead, you attempt to curl up behind a stone statue. The statue changes poses, so that they are hovering over you, casting you in shadow. You press your fist in your mouth to keep from giggling. "Please Celia," the voice whines.

You sigh, exasperated, and stand up.

"Ah Ha!" A white haired boy with a pointed, mischievous face peers around from the statue. "I knew it!" He says gleefully. "You loose."

"You said you gave up," you remind him, brushing a loose piece of gravel from your skirt.

He sulks for a minute. "It doesn't matter," he replies moodily, and stomps over to the wishing fountain. You join his side.

"You're a sore loser, Draco." He makes a face, but is quiet. But the game is soon forgotten between the two of you, as five-year olds tend to forget such frivolous things.

"Look at this," he says, pointing to the water. As he does so, it begins to boil, frothing against the side of the marble. "Mum says to control it," he snickers. "She can't stop me."

But when you touch your hand to his shoulder, he stops boiling the water. You sit on the side of the fountain, creating ripples by slowly dipping each of your fingers into the water and wiggling them.

"Do you think we'll go to Hogwarts some day? Really?" You ask.

He frowns. "Why wouldn't we?"

You shrug. "I don't think I'm good at magic."

Draco protests, his grey eyes wide. "No, Celia. You're much better than I am. Remember the time you made the branch levitate? And the time you went invisible?"

"But I didn't mean too," you argue, standing up on the ledge of the fountain and walking, your arms outstretched, one foot after the other, around the rim, trying not to fall in. "You can control things, make what you want happen at certain times." You dip your foot tentatively in the water, and then kick it up, spraying a flower garden. As you do so, you loose your balance, but before you fall in, some force holds you back. You look over at Draco, who is staring, wide-eyed at you. You realize he's using magic to keep you suspended over the water.

"That's what I mean," you inform him. "You are keeping me up, aren't you?"

He shakes out of his concentration. "No," he responds, and with a nod of his head, you fall into the fountain, soaking your dress.

"Draco!" You screech, whipping your hair back from your eyes.

"Maybe I was after all," he says with a smirk. You smack the water with your open palm, soaking him too. He gasps at the contact with the cold water, the laughs, scooping it into his hand and hitting you with it.

"Children!" You hear your mother call. "Draco, Celia! Lunch is ready!" And with his help, you climb out of the wishing fountain, your dress-sopping wet, and head back into the Malfoy's manor, the best of friends.

~Year: 2009

"She's weird," you hear Pansy Parkinson insist as you exit the train. You head over to a column, you bags and owl cage in tow, and cross your arms, waiting. "Please don't keep her around all summer," you hear her plead.

"You just shut up about it," Draco hisses, glancing at you. "I told you to drop it, nothing's going to change, Pansy."

"Fine," she says, sticking out her lower lip. Draco turns to leave.

"Wait!" She yells, looking affronted. "Aren't you going to give me something before you go?"

Draco hastily kisses her cheek. She burns a bright pink, and skips off to another part of the train, searching for her luggage.

"She seems like a winner," you snicker as Draco approaches you.

"She's a prize, alright." He is as red as a beet; you can almost feel his mortification peeling off him in waves. "A prize bit-"

"Draco!" you hear some one cry. Narcissa fights her way through the throng of students. She looks beautiful, as always, her posture austere, her eyes pure, her blonde hair softly curling at the small of her back. She hugs her son tightly, and you can feel his embarrassment stronger than before. You start to turn, to give him some privacy, when she suddenly turns to you.

"Celia, darling," she whispers. She hugs you tightly. You close your eyes, feeling as if you might cry, when she releases you, her eyes rather wet. "You look so much older. You look like your mother," she adds, turning away. You look at the ground, a lump forming in your throat.

"Why don't we leave?" Draco asks, looking anxious.

"Right," you say hastily, picking up your owl. Draco grabs the rest of your bags, and the two of you follow Narcissa, back into the muggle world.