Blaire Zabini || Draco Malfoy

1 - Golden

The first time I met my best friend I threw sand in his face and made him cry.

Although to this day he would adamantly insist it had been the other way around.

Pfft, whatever. Draco Malfoy didn't have the ability to make me cry; well not until we were much older, at any rate.

The story of our friendship didn't begin on that summers day in the sandpit, however. No, it began when we were eleven years old; the both of us about to embark on a magical journey together.

The day we started Hogwarts.

*****

"Darling, if you don't hurry we'll miss the train!"

I rolled my eyes at the sound of my mother's voice ringing up from downstairs. Sighing, I steadied the eyelash curler in my hand, leaning closer in to the mirror.

Mother was always so impatient; forever in a rush to get here and there. It was as though she didn't have a magic wand she could use.

"Chill, Mother," I called back from the confines of my lofty bedroom, "I'll be down in a minute."

I fluttered my dark slanted eyes at my reflection; satisfied that I looked my best. Languidly zipping up my make up bag, I packed it into my already full school trunk and made my way lazily down the stairs to where my mother was waiting impatiently by the front door.

"You're eleven years old, Blaire," she tutted, her eyes roaming my immaculately done out appearance disdainfully, "you're too young to be concerned about looking good."

There was no disguising the jealously upon her face. My mother was indeed what you'd call beautiful, but she feared growing old. This was evident from the way she would shamelessly flirt with every single male she came across; including the paperboy - always desperate for their constant validation.

I was glad to be finally getting away from it; from her toxicity. Her latest husband wasn't making her happy, but rather than dump his sorry arse, she decided to turn to the other love of her life: gin.

"You mark my words, Blaire," she had said one afternoon, her drink slopping everywhere as she drunkenly jabbed a finger in my face, "the instant you gain a wrinkle, they're out looking for a younger fucking model."

So when I received my letter from Hogwarts, it was as though I'd finally found my ticket out of there.

Freedom.

*****

Filthy black smoke was billowing everywhere.

"Ugh, my pores!" Mother cried, her hands flying up to her face in horror. "They could have warned us it was some stinky old steam train - Beauxbatons would never!"

Before I could tell her that it would probably do her pores an improvement, a female voice cut into the thick London air.

"Cassandra! Is that you?!"

I looked up to see what I could only describe as a beautiful woman; silver blonde hair rippling down her back and skin so delicately pale it looked as though it would shatter against your touch.

Beside her stood a boy of around my age, looking astonishingly like a miniature male version of the lady next to him.

"Narcissa?" Mother paused, squinting up at the woman as the boy and I exchanged wary looks.

He was a funny looking boy; sleek white golden hair glistening brightly against the sunlight; pale pointed face pinched in a way that made him appear as though he thought he was above everyone and everything around him. I wasn't sure quite what to make of him. Yet somehow, there was something awfully familiar about him.

"Oh, Cassandra, it's so good to see you again," the woman called Narcissa gushed as she stepped forward to embrace my mother, "it's been much too long."

"Oh, you know how it is," Mother said breezily, gesturing down at me as though I had been the reason she'd been a lousy friend for so long, "busily bringing up our Blaire here; only eleven but already acting like a typical demanding teen!"

I tried not to roll my eyes, but by the little derisive snort emitting from the golden haired boy, I guessed I hadn't tried hard enough.

Our eyes briefly met; his lips twitching into a sly smirk that I couldn't help but return.

"It's the same with our Draco," Narcissa agreed, "he's a boy who certainly knows what he wants and isn't afraid to ask for it."

She patted the boy's slicked back hair as she said this and I didn't miss the flicker of irritation upon his face as he flinched away.

"Of course," my mother said, looking between the two of us, "I almost forgot you were both the same age."

"To think," Narcissa cried, her hand splaying out across her chest, "the last time you children saw one another, you were playing in Draco's sandpit. That must have been six... no, seven years ago, now?"

The boy and I glanced at one another once again, both of us frowning, trying to place the other. Now I had come to think of it, I did have this vague memory of being forced to play at some snobby kid's fancy pants manor whilst our mother's drank gin and gossiped all afternoon.

The boy had been such a brat; always going on about his father saying this and his father getting him that. I had gotten so fed up with him that I threw sand in his face to shut him up and he'd run off crying to his mummy.

The train chose this moment to give a loud whistle, making my mother give a tiny 'yelp' as she jumped out of her skin.

"Merlin!" she cried, turning to me, "you'd better get a move on, Blaire, before it leaves without you. Come on, now!"

All around us, mother's were tearily hugging their kids, including the golden haired mummy's boy - whose pale cheeks had tinged slightly as he was engulfed in his mother's embrace.

My mother and I, however, simply stood a good metre apart, looking at one another awkwardly.

"Well, bye then," I said, reaching down to grab my trunk.

"Don't forget to owl me the minute you get the chance," she called after me, making a show of trying to sound motherly as I started to battle my way through the crowds to get to the train.

I nodded back at her, but knew even then I wouldn't bother. She'd be too drunk to read it anyway.

"Do you want to find a compartment together?"

I looked up behind me in surprise. It was the golden haired boy, Draco.

"My name's Draco by the way, Draco Malfoy," he said as he hopped onto the train after me, his voice very much a posh boy drawl, "but it seems, apparently, that we already know one another."

"I'm Blaire," I said, feeling my lips tug into a wicked smirk, "and all I remember about you is that your sandcastles were just as pretentious as your home."

A frown flickered over his face; his features pinching slightly as his silver eyes pierced into mine. He looked as though he was going to retort with something nasty, but then seemed to immediately change his mind.

"Let's go this way, shall we?" he murmured, leading the way up to the left of the corridor towards the front of the train, "Father says the trolly witch starts from the top."

Sighing, I shrugged my shoulders and thought why the hell not. I literally knew no one I was going to Hogwarts with, and as pompous and arrogant as this boy came across, he seemed willing to be friendly of sorts.

So I followed him.

And just like that, the start of our friendship began.

*****