»»----- song: -----««
you wouldn't like me
★ by sleeping at last ★
❝ there's a war inside of me
do i cause new heartbreak to write a new song
do i push it down or let it run me
right into the ground ❞
♢ ♢ ♢
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts, dear?"she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."
Harry didn't quite know how to correct her as she led him to the back of the shop. In actuality, she felt an odd tingle of satisfaction in her stomach at being called a "young man," and it felt strange.
She settled down in a stool next to a boy with buttery blond hair and bone china skin. He looked more feminine than Harry, a girl, did. Well, that wasn't very difficult given Dudley's baggy hand-me-downs and choppy black hair, but the other boy screamed pompous pansy with immaculately styled hair, and Harry was willing to bet his nails were manicured, too.
"Hello," he said. "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," said Harry, looking down at her hands. They seemed to be polar opposites—Harry with tanned skin from the endless weeding the Dursleys had subjected her to, dark hair and emerald eyes she quite liked, and the scar on her forehead, of course. The boy had pale hair and stormier gray eyes, and flawlessly pale skin. He was probably spoiled rotten too—although he had a certain level more class than Dudley and a much thinner frame, he was starting to remind Harry of her cousin.
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy drawled. "I'll probably try to get them to buy me a broom—first years aren't allowed to have them, but I'll probably bully them into getting one for me. I'll smuggle it in somehow." Harry's dislike grew.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No," Harry said, wondering what on earth Quidditch was.
"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," Harry said, feeling stupid.
"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?"
Harry was feeling stupider by the minute. But that feeling was overwhelmed by the annoyance she felt from hearing the boy speak.
Harry turned her head away and the boy seemed to sense Harry's disinterest, for he fell silent. Harry watched Madam Malkin gather up fabric and wondered what the difference was between girl robes and boy robes. Madame Malkin slipped a robe over Harry's head and Harry bit her lip. "Erm..." she started.
"Yes, dear?" Madam Malkin said absentmindedly.
I'm not a boy.
"Never mind."
The boy looked at Harry curiously. Harry pretended not to notice.
"I'm Malfoy," the boy said suddenly. "Draco Malfoy."
Harry glanced over at him. "Harry," she said shortly.
"Harry, what?"
Madame Malkin chose this moment to bustle away, murmuring about forgetting fabric in the storage room.
Harry sighed. Given what she had experienced at the Leaky Cauldron earlier that day, she could only guess what Draco Malfoy's reaction would be.
"Potter. Harry Potter."
It took a moment. "Potter? But..."
Harry sighed again. "Helena Potter."
Draco's eyes flew to Harry's forehead. "Are you really?" Harry found herself slightly annoyed at the ill-disguised awe he heard in Draco's voice.
"You can call me Harry," she said.
Draco leaned back and seemed to attempt putting on a mask of cool indifference. It didn't work much. "Can I see your... you know, your scar?" he whispered.
Obediently, Harry swiped away her fringe to reveal the lightning bold scar. "Nothing special," she said.
Draco gaped at her. "Speak for yourself, your scar is a symbol in the Wizarding world."
"That's what I was afraid of," muttered Harry. Draco finally seemed to remember his manners and composed himself. "But of course, your parents were killed by the Dark Lord, weren't they... I'm sorry." Harry looked at him in surprise.
Not sure how to respond, she asked, "Dark Lord?"
"That's what my parents call You-Know-Who," shrugged Draco. The movement made him seem more his age, more normal and less uptight. Harry found her dislike subside a bit.
Madam Malkin finished her measurements and told Harry, "That's you done, my dear." Harry hopped off the stool, eager to get back outside and visit some more shops, but she hesitated.
"Want me to wait for you?" she asked Draco.
Draco looked slightly taken aback, seeming like he hadn't expected this gesture. "Oh... sure, if you'd like," he said. He fiddled with the robes he was being fitted with, and said hesitantly, "Have you been to Diagon Alley before?"
Harry shook her head. Draco smiled a bit. "I could show you around a bit, if you want. I've been here loads of times."
Harry opened her mouth to tell Draco about Hagrid, but something hopeful in Draco's eyes tugged at her. It was nice, just talking, even if it was with a rich snob.
"Okay," she said. She hoped Hagrid might take a bit longer in the Leaky Cauldron.
♢ ♢ ♢
"Mother!" Draco shouted. The tall blonde woman turned from the window of Ollivanders with a reprimand quick on her tongue. "Draco, watch your tone! It's unseemly," she said, eyeing her son critically.
The sign behind her read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Harry couldn't quite wrap her mind around the "B.C" bit, but she pulled her eyes away from the peeling gold letters to the piercing blue eyes of Mrs. Malfoy.
"Sorry, Mother," Draco hurriedly apologized. "Is it alright if I show Harry around Diagon Alley? We've got our robes, so we now can get wands together." As Draco barely contained his impatience, Draco's mother stared at Harry, who shuffled her feet under the scrutiny. "Harry?" she asked Draco slowly, not really taking her eyes away. Harry nervously made a conscious effort not to flatten her hair over her scar.
Draco caught on and lowered his voice. "Helena, Mum. Helena Potter." Harry appreciated Draco's covertness.
The elegant woman's lips parted slightly, and it gave Harry the slightest implication that she wasn't too happy to see her. She looked away briefly much to Harry's relief, before briskly introducing herself. "Narcissa Malfoy," she said smoothly, extending a pale, slender hand. Harry took it cautiously. "I'm pleased to see that Draco has made a Hogwarts acquaintance," she continued, and Harry could only nod. She had a feeling that her manners weren't quite up to par with Narcissa Malfoy's expectations, but her marble-like features weren't exactly welcoming. Her grip was warm and firm, unlike Harry's first impression of frosty fragility, and it eerily reminded her of a snake's unrelenting clutch. Harry couldn't let go quickly enough.
Narcissa drew herself up.
"Wands, yes?" she asked the two of them. "Let's go inside, then—"
"Narcissa!" A man with long, blonde hair was hurrying towards them. He looked very much like Draco, Harry noticed, and dressed like him, too.
"Father!" Draco pronounced, looking pleased to see him.
The man spared Harry only a small glance before speaking to Narcissa in a low, excited tone.
"Borgin and Burkes, my dear, they say they have a little business proposition for us—"
"Lucius." Narcissa turned her head briefly towards Harry and Draco. Lucius snapped his mouth shut and straightened up.
"Draco, I need to take your mother somewhere. Stay put, go buy your wand with your... acquaintance," Lucius said this a bit disparagingly, "And we'll be back."
He ushered Narcissa forward. She looked reluctant, but took his arm without complaint. They hurried off and disappeared into a strange, dark alleyway.
Draco turned to Harry.
"Well, they're gone now, aren't they? Let's go in, then." He pushed the door open and motioned for Harry to follow.
This was what Harry had been looking forward to most of all: a wand. She eagerly followed.