Chapter One ~ The Way You Looked that Night
*Pansy*
I met Draco Malfoy maybe three years before either of us entered Hogwarts. He was two months older than me, so when I was seven he was eight when I first entered his home. I can still remember that day as if it happened not even a fortnight ago.
Mum had dressed me in my nicest dinner dress, all black satin and white ivory buttons down the back. She had brushed my dark hair until it shone and tied it in a loose white ribbon to keep it out of my face. She made me put on my shiniest black shoes and wrapped my warmest black cloak around my shoulders. It was winter when I first met him.
I asked my mum why I had to be so dressed up, and why she and Daddy were wearing their best dress robes. She only told me that we were going to have dinner with some new friends they met and that they were 'high class' people. They sounded strange to me, so I said nothing else from that moment until we were on the Malfoy's foyer.
A house elf greeted us, holding the door open and taking our cloaks. He looked very sad and dirty, but he scared me, so I hid behind my father's leg. We stood there for maybe a minute when a low, drawling voice greeted us.
"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson; so glad you could make it."
Wondering who owned that voice, I peeked around my father's robes. Standing before us was a tall man with white-blonde hair and pale skin. His eyes were steel grey and he was dressed even statelier than my own parents. In his hand he carried a highly polished cane with a silver snake's head at the top.
He scared the hell out of me.
Banging his cane into the hard marble floor three times, the house elf bowed his self out and fled through a door to the left. The man, whom I found out to be Mr. Lucius Malfoy, led us into a door at the right.
"Please come into the drawing room and meet my wife and son," he said, his voice much too cold for my liking.
I trailed behind my parents, so I didn't see him right away. I was glad, because from the way I'm recalling that memory, I would have died upon first laying eyes on him. Thankfully, I was granted a few minutes to prepare for some handsome little boy or a hideous and cruel one. What I met was neither and both at the same time.
"Hello. My name is Draco Malfoy and I am pleased to have met you," where the very first words he spoke to me. I had seated myself in an armchair near the entrance, letting my parents become acquainted with their new 'friends'. I didn't want to meet Mr. Malfoy's son, but he had obviously sought me out; and I couldn't have been more grateful.
When I looked up from my shining shoes, my heart stopped, literally. He had the same blonde hair and grey eyes and pale face as his father, but he was not his father in any way. His hair was platinum blonde, slicked back to give him a clean-cut look. His face was pale but with more color and life in it than his father's and his eyes were not steely grey, but stormy; like rain clouds sweeping in on the hottest day of the summer to cool your face. I know it sounds corny, but it's the truth.
And this may be pushing it over the edge here, but I think I fell in love with him in those seconds when we just stared at one another.
I wasn't sure if he was sincere when he greeted me or just playing along, because believe me, I wasn't stupid, and no eight-year-old boy spoke like that, regardless of your upbringing. His hand was outstretched, as if waiting for me to shake it. Still suspicious if he was just playing his parent's puppet, I took it with hesitation. But after our hands connected, I didn't care anymore.
Once I had offered my small hand, he took it in his own and raised it to his lips, kissing it with the gentlest touch of rain on a rose petal. It should have wooed me, it should have made my heart melt and it should have made me tingle all over. But I was seven, and all it made me was very self-conscience and very scared.
I didn't know until later years, but that moment would both bless and haunt me forever.
*Draco*
Now, I won't lie to you and say that it was 'love at first sight' when I met Pansy. What do I look like, a Gryffindor? Not that saying those words acquired bravery; it was just the impulse of being so utterly stupid that makes it reek of the Gryffindor stench.
But in all honesty, I wasn't capable of any emotion at the age of eight. I mean, give me a break; I was a boy who hadn't even reached his double digits. But I was brought up in an atmosphere sophisticated enough for me to have a little awareness of the things around me; and let me tell you, I was certainly aware when Pansy first walked into the drawing room.
She wasn't the prettiest little girl I had ever seen, but she could have made many of them run for their money; literally. She was dressed all in black satin, save for the small ivory buttons trailing her back. Her dark hair glinted in the firelight of the chandelier, mesmerizing me. It was tied back in a white bow, and I had to fight the urge to rip that ribbon away and let the waterfall of darkness fall around her face.
I couldn't see her eyes because she kept her head down, gazing at the floor and not looking up once. Right away, she jumped into one of the armchairs near the door and crossed her hands over her lap, staring fixedly at her shoes. She seemed unwelcome in our household, and her mother and father were too busy introducing themselves to my own.
So call me the gentleman, but I walked away from my mother's side and towards her.
"Hello. My name is Draco Malfoy and I am pleased to have met you," were the first things I said to her. Believe me, it sounds stupider even now when I'm recalling it from my memory. She looked up then, and I almost gasped as she bore me with her eyes. Key word there is 'almost'.
She had the darkest eyes, completely black and matching her dress and dark brown hair. But they did not look menacing; I mean, come one, she was only seven. But they caught me in awe, and I was speechless for a few moments.
When I had regained my composure, I held out my hand to her, intending to shake it. But as she slipped her cold fingers into my mine, I instinctively brought them to my lips, caressing her skin with the lightest kiss. She gave a small intake of breath and for some reason, I smiled a little. I wouldn't know until later years, but that moment would both bless and haunt me forever.
*Pansy*
I met Draco Malfoy maybe three years before either of us entered Hogwarts. He was two months older than me, so when I was seven he was eight when I first entered his home. I can still remember that day as if it happened not even a fortnight ago.
Mum had dressed me in my nicest dinner dress, all black satin and white ivory buttons down the back. She had brushed my dark hair until it shone and tied it in a loose white ribbon to keep it out of my face. She made me put on my shiniest black shoes and wrapped my warmest black cloak around my shoulders. It was winter when I first met him.
I asked my mum why I had to be so dressed up, and why she and Daddy were wearing their best dress robes. She only told me that we were going to have dinner with some new friends they met and that they were 'high class' people. They sounded strange to me, so I said nothing else from that moment until we were on the Malfoy's foyer.
A house elf greeted us, holding the door open and taking our cloaks. He looked very sad and dirty, but he scared me, so I hid behind my father's leg. We stood there for maybe a minute when a low, drawling voice greeted us.
"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson; so glad you could make it."
Wondering who owned that voice, I peeked around my father's robes. Standing before us was a tall man with white-blonde hair and pale skin. His eyes were steel grey and he was dressed even statelier than my own parents. In his hand he carried a highly polished cane with a silver snake's head at the top.
He scared the hell out of me.
Banging his cane into the hard marble floor three times, the house elf bowed his self out and fled through a door to the left. The man, whom I found out to be Mr. Lucius Malfoy, led us into a door at the right.
"Please come into the drawing room and meet my wife and son," he said, his voice much too cold for my liking.
I trailed behind my parents, so I didn't see him right away. I was glad, because from the way I'm recalling that memory, I would have died upon first laying eyes on him. Thankfully, I was granted a few minutes to prepare for some handsome little boy or a hideous and cruel one. What I met was neither and both at the same time.
"Hello. My name is Draco Malfoy and I am pleased to have met you," where the very first words he spoke to me. I had seated myself in an armchair near the entrance, letting my parents become acquainted with their new 'friends'. I didn't want to meet Mr. Malfoy's son, but he had obviously sought me out; and I couldn't have been more grateful.
When I looked up from my shining shoes, my heart stopped, literally. He had the same blonde hair and grey eyes and pale face as his father, but he was not his father in any way. His hair was platinum blonde, slicked back to give him a clean-cut look. His face was pale but with more color and life in it than his father's and his eyes were not steely grey, but stormy; like rain clouds sweeping in on the hottest day of the summer to cool your face. I know it sounds corny, but it's the truth.
And this may be pushing it over the edge here, but I think I fell in love with him in those seconds when we just stared at one another.
I wasn't sure if he was sincere when he greeted me or just playing along, because believe me, I wasn't stupid, and no eight-year-old boy spoke like that, regardless of your upbringing. His hand was outstretched, as if waiting for me to shake it. Still suspicious if he was just playing his parent's puppet, I took it with hesitation. But after our hands connected, I didn't care anymore.
Once I had offered my small hand, he took it in his own and raised it to his lips, kissing it with the gentlest touch of rain on a rose petal. It should have wooed me, it should have made my heart melt and it should have made me tingle all over. But I was seven, and all it made me was very self-conscience and very scared.
I didn't know until later years, but that moment would both bless and haunt me forever.
*Draco*
Now, I won't lie to you and say that it was 'love at first sight' when I met Pansy. What do I look like, a Gryffindor? Not that saying those words acquired bravery; it was just the impulse of being so utterly stupid that makes it reek of the Gryffindor stench.
But in all honesty, I wasn't capable of any emotion at the age of eight. I mean, give me a break; I was a boy who hadn't even reached his double digits. But I was brought up in an atmosphere sophisticated enough for me to have a little awareness of the things around me; and let me tell you, I was certainly aware when Pansy first walked into the drawing room.
She wasn't the prettiest little girl I had ever seen, but she could have made many of them run for their money; literally. She was dressed all in black satin, save for the small ivory buttons trailing her back. Her dark hair glinted in the firelight of the chandelier, mesmerizing me. It was tied back in a white bow, and I had to fight the urge to rip that ribbon away and let the waterfall of darkness fall around her face.
I couldn't see her eyes because she kept her head down, gazing at the floor and not looking up once. Right away, she jumped into one of the armchairs near the door and crossed her hands over her lap, staring fixedly at her shoes. She seemed unwelcome in our household, and her mother and father were too busy introducing themselves to my own.
So call me the gentleman, but I walked away from my mother's side and towards her.
"Hello. My name is Draco Malfoy and I am pleased to have met you," were the first things I said to her. Believe me, it sounds stupider even now when I'm recalling it from my memory. She looked up then, and I almost gasped as she bore me with her eyes. Key word there is 'almost'.
She had the darkest eyes, completely black and matching her dress and dark brown hair. But they did not look menacing; I mean, come one, she was only seven. But they caught me in awe, and I was speechless for a few moments.
When I had regained my composure, I held out my hand to her, intending to shake it. But as she slipped her cold fingers into my mine, I instinctively brought them to my lips, caressing her skin with the lightest kiss. She gave a small intake of breath and for some reason, I smiled a little. I wouldn't know until later years, but that moment would both bless and haunt me forever.