The bell above the shop door chimed again.
A thin boy with messy black hair and round glasses stepped inside.
Madam Malkin poked her head out, took one look at him, then ducked back into the small room and called out loudly,
“Here for Hogwarts robes too, dear?
Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty.”
“But please wait just a moment!
I…
I need to finish helping Ma—this young lady first!”
In her fluster, Madam Malkin nearly revealed her customer’s identity.
Only after Draca shot her a sidelong glare did she abruptly change the way she addressed her.
The boy who had just entered didn’t seem to notice at all.
He nodded somewhat blankly and remained standing where he was, not moving, though he kept looking at Draca with open curiosity.
The instant their gazes met, Draca unconsciously noticed how clear his emerald-green eyes were.
The boy, in turn, seemed drawn to her eyes as well.
Without saying a word, the two stared at each other for a moment.
Then both seemed to realize what they were doing and, slightly embarrassed, turned their heads away.
The large shop somehow felt even quieter with the two of them alone in silence.
And as their gazes kept drifting back toward each other despite themselves, the atmosphere only grew more awkward.
“Um…
are you going to Hogwarts too?”
Draca finally couldn’t help speaking softly.
The boy immediately turned his head.
“Yes.
Are you…
here by yourself too?”
At his question, Draca slowly began to notice his clothes.
She had no idea where that sense of style had come from.
It was rather strange.
His shirt was far too loose, and the trousers had thickly rolled-up cuffs, making the entire outfit look quite sloppy.
Normally, Draca would certainly have frowned at such improper clothing and had no desire to pay him any further attention.
But strangely enough, there was something about the boy’s eyes and bearing that made him difficult to dislike.
Perhaps it was because those bright green eyes revealed a fierce vitality beneath the ill-fitting clothes and thin frame.
“Father has some business at Gringotts, and Mother is next door helping buy my textbooks.”
As Draca spoke, she tried to think of something they could talk about.
Then an idea suddenly occurred to her, and she asked softly,
“Have you ever played Quidditch?
A lot of boys seem very interested in that new broom.”
“No.
Quid—what is that?”
His unexpected answer only made Draca more curious.
Could it be—?
She decided to test him a little further.
“Then…
is there any House you want to be sorted into?”
“I don’t know.”
The boy shrugged and scratched the back of his head.
Apparently, he was also trying hard to find something to talk about.
“Hey!
Do you know anyone at Hogwarts?
That’s Hagrid.
He works at Hogwarts.
He’s the gamekeeper.”
The boy suddenly spoke with excitement.
At the same time, the light inside the shop dimmed as a huge figure blocked the glass window by the entrance.
Draca, however, finally frowned deeply.
“I’ve heard of him.
Why is he the one accompanying you?
Where are your father and mother?”
A shadow passed over the boy’s face, and he avoided the question.
“They’re both dead.”
“Oh…”
Draca’s heart seemed to drop at his answer.
She had no idea how to respond and could only apologize softly.
“I’m sorry…”
The two fell silent again, occasionally stealing glances at each other.
“They…
if you don’t want to talk about them…”
Draca struggled to keep the conversation going, unable to stop herself from growing a little anxious.
Her mother had told her that being able to maintain a graceful conversation with strangers was one of the foundations of aristocratic social etiquette.
Draca had always believed it was something she handled with ease.
Yet for some reason, whenever she spoke to this boy, the conversation seemed to stumble.
“They were both a witch and wizard.
But that’s all I know.”
The boy said it simply.
Draca could only nod.
Relieved, she tried voicing the suspicion she’d had earlier, hoping to shift the subject.
“I thought you might not have been born into a wizarding family.”
“Sometimes I wonder why wizards have to hide from Muggles.”
“And why, when Muggles have oppressed us like this, our school still accepts children from Muggle families.”
Draca spoke gently, but soon noticed with some nervousness that the boy had absolutely no interest in the topic.
“Found it!
Found it, dear!
Could you come over here for a moment?”
“This fabric is woven from silk and the finest wool!”
“If we make your robes from this, they absolutely won’t—”
Madam Malkin’s voice rang out from the back.
Draca lightly stepped down from the footstool.
The boy glanced toward the door, apparently deciding to follow the man called Hagrid outside for now and return later.
“Then…
I’ll see you at Hogwarts?
Even though I still don’t know your name…”
He spoke to Draca just before stepping outside.
“My name is—”
Draca opened her mouth, about to introduce herself.
But for some reason, under the boy’s sincere gaze, she suddenly felt a little embarrassed.
The words caught in her chest and refused to come out.
The boy waited for a moment, then scratched the back of his head again and smiled.
“Sorry.
That probably sounded a little rude.”
His thin frame seemed almost to brighten with his cheerful expression.
Draca couldn’t help turning her head away again, inwardly annoyed at how easily her pale cheeks heated up.
The door opened.
The boy was about to step outside.
Draca hurriedly turned back and couldn’t resist warning him.
“Be careful.
I’ve heard that man is very rough.
He drinks a lot, and he often uses magic recklessly.”
The well-meaning warning made the boy stop abruptly.
“Really?
I think he’s kind, intelligent, and reliable.”
His words were accompanied by the sharp bang of the shop door closing, carrying an unmistakable burst of anger.
The sudden reaction left Draca standing there in stunned confusion.
And with the confusion came a trace of wounded anger.
Only after a long while did she murmur quietly, her feelings still tangled.
“See you at Hogwarts, you rude stranger.”
It really helps the fic grow!