In Between The Lines

Chapter One

Draco's POV:

There were a lot of children my age wondering around Diagon Alley with their parents, looking and pointing at everything they could. Some of the parents just looked at the children with an amused expression, and other's were looking around with the same look of awe as their children, those were the adults Father steered us away from. Rightfully so too.

I had already been to Diagon Alley on several occasions with my mother so I didn't bother to look around at the stores like the rest of my future classmates, I only held my head up like Father and followed in his and mother's footsteps. Like Father said, there was nothing interesting in this part of the alley anyways.

"Now, Draco," my mother began, stopping on the side of the walk way and bending down to fix my cloaks and hair as Father stayed upright like a respectable man, he never bent down for anything. "You remember Madam Malkin? Just go into this shop and tell her who you are and she'll know what to do." I keep from rolling my eyes at my mother's protective antics, I already knew that people knew how to treat me once they know who I am, she doesn't need to remind me. "Your father will be next door getting your books while I go look at appropriate wands for you." She placed a hand on my cheek and kissed my forehead before walking away with my father.

I walked into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, looking around the empty and messy store for it's owner. Mother and Father didn't get their robes from here, and I don't see why I had to either, at least there wasn't anyone else in the store with me.

"Hogwarts student?" I turned at the voice and saw Madam Malkin, a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve, smiling down at me with a measuring tape draped over her shoulder.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," I told her, standing up straighter and meeting her eyes the way Father does. She raised an eyebrow at my stance but said nothing else, leading me into the back of the store and telling me to stand on a stool.

"Mrs. Kipling will take care of your measurements. Do you know if your mother wants more than just your Hogwarts measurements done?" Madam Malkin asked as another woman comes into the room and starts measuring me.

"How should I know?" Madam Malkin nodded and left, heading back to the front of the room.

The woman working did not say anything to me and did not look up to meet my stare as I made sure she did her work properly. Mother had brought professional designers to the Manor to take my measures last year, so I knew how it was suppose to be done. I had to make sure that this girl didn't mess up.

After a few minutes, the doorbell announced another customer and I heard Madam Malkin address the customer the same way she did me. I didn't hear the boy's reply, but she lead him to where I was so he must have a surname she recognized also.

He was a scrawny boy, smaller than me, with a thin face, black hair that was very messy, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses that were held together by some clear, thin piece of paper. His clothes were odd and unfamiliar to me, but he seemed a little uncomfortable as Madam Malkin took his measurements, probably wanting his robes done professionally also, so I decide to talk to him. Father said to always become friends with the people with important surnames. As Mrs. Kipling began to pin up my long black robes, I turned to the small boy.

"Hello," I said. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes." He said, slightly dumbly. Perhaps he was related to the Crabbes.

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands." I drawled, letting the boy feel comfortable as I let him know we were all going through this, he was not the only one that was told to do things on his own even though our parents had the capability to do it themselves. When the boy still doesn't say anything, I changed to the topic that always makes Mother's friend's children talk. "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. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." The boy looked even more uncomfortable now, and slightly angry. Perhaps his parents preached rules like Mother. Or he had his own broom and was thinking badly of me for not having my own. "Do you have your own broom?"