Potter

Chapter 3

"I'm what!?" I asked, slamming my hands down on the table hard enough to make some of the wand displays vibrate. Ollivander nodded, looking almost insultingly amused at my outburst.

"Your father, Jacob Potter, was James Potter's younger brother."

"That's not possible! My father was a muggle- And so was my mother!" My parents were the two most muggle-like people you could get. My father didn't even know how to work the tv, and my mom had a habit of always burning toast. The idea of either of them being magical was more ridiuclous than the idea of my dog talking.

"Your father was a squib, my dear girl. A squib! Not a muggle. A powerful squib, too... You're even listed on the Potter family tree." Ollivander said, though the amusement in his tone had dropped. Obviously he had been hoping for something a little more exuberant in my reaction. Instead I simply shook my head, trying to process what he was telling me.

"No. That's ridiculous, I'm sorry. Anyway, thank you for the wand, it's beautiful." I gave what I hoped was a convincing smile, and Ollivander nodded.

"Thank you for coming here, Miss. Potter. It has been lovely to meet you, dear girl. Say hello to your cousin for me!" Ollivander called as I shut the door behind me, cringing when the bells above my head chimed sharply as the door hit them.

"He's not my cousin.." I let out a quiet sigh, shaking my head. My fingers traced the carvings of the roses on the handle of my wand, feeling the curves of the petals and leaves that adorned it. It was pretty, and it reminded me exactly where I was. I wasn't home. Brushing my thoughts from my head, I stepped quickly down the stairs, turning the corner to go the robe shop when my pathway was quickly interrupted by a figure stepping infrot of me, knocking me over.

"Ow." I huffed as I hit the ground, palms stinging from the small bits of gravel that had dug themselves into my skin. I brushed my hands off quickly, grateful to see I wasn't bleeding. Grabbing the bag I moved to stand back up, startled when a hand latched itself around my arm and pulled me up to my feet with ease.

"Thanks?" I said carefully, glancing up only to see a fifteen year old boy standing there, gray eyes watching me with curiosity.

"No problem. It was my bad." He apologized, and I paused for a moment, taken aback. Despite never actually seeing his face before in my life, I recognized him all too well, the telltale of his identity coming from the pale color of his hair. Draco Malfoy. I felt faint. I had- rather literally- run into Draco Malfoy, who had helped me off the ground. Since when was he nice? And, I took notice with amusement, not that bad looking either. He watched me carefully, making me feel a little uneasy. Most people would've moved on by now. But instead of walking away, he spoke up.

"I haven't seen you around before. What's your name?" Draco asked with all the politeness of a pureblood heir, and I smiled sheepishly, running my free hand through my hair in an attempt to straighten it out.

"I shouldn't be talking to strangers, you know. My name is Lily. Lily Potter." I belatedly wondered if I should be giving him my last name, but it was too late now. Draco nodded, clasping his behind his back as his eyebrows raised.

"So you're related to Potter?"

"Not everyone who has the same name has to be related. Nice way to star a conversation, though." I chimed, rolling my eyes. Oh yes, he certainly was a charmer.  "And your name?" I knew it already, of course, but I wasn't going to look like a creeper and say it without proper introduction. I had some smarts.

"Draco Malfoy." He said, holding out his hand. I reached out hesitantly, shaking it before I let my hand drop back to my side. A faint tingle ran through my fingers, and I wondered amusedly if I really had just gotten an adreniline rush from shaking hands with Draco Malfoy.