I'm not going to lie, it took me a little while to warm to Draco Malfoy in those early days of our friendship.

He had such an arrogant and conceited way about him of which I found hard to stomach.

But of course that was before I realised it was all down to his insecurities; I had been, after all, just eleven years old.

On that first day, as we journeyed to our new life, we eventually located an empty compartment where we stored away our trunks and made ourselves comfortable on opposite sides, eyeing the other skeptically; sussing each other out.

"Did your parents go to Hogwarts, too?" he asked; his eyes instantly narrowing as he waited for me to give my answer.

"My mother went to Beauxbatons," I replied, his features relaxing at once. "I have no idea where my father attended."

"Oh." Another frown. "He is one of us, though?"

"I guess, I wouldn't know," I shrugged nonchalantly, "he died before I was even born and mother refuses to talk about him."

"Oh." Draco looked uncomfortable as if he didn't know what to say. "Sorry."

"Don't be," I shrugged again, my voice light and indifferent, "she never talks about any of her late husbands, and my father is certainly no exception."

Draco failed to respond and a silence fell between us. I cast my eyes up at the window and watched as trees and buildings flew by. I briefly wondered if we'd left London already, excitement swirling in the pit of my stomach upon the realisation that was I moving further and further away from my mother by the second.

I could feel Draco's eyes on me, studying me intently. I wondered what was going through his mind. I wouldn't know; males baffled me. But then again, so did females. Especially my mother.

According to her all men ever thought about was sex. I wondered if this boy was thinking about sex right now. Do eleven year old boys even know about sex?

I probably knew more than I should on the subject; Mother talked openly about it all the time much to my revulsion.

"You mark my words, Blaire," she had said to me one dinner time, nursing a gin as she watched me eat, "make sure you find a man who knows his way around the garage. Nothing is worse than a lazy selfish lover who thinks it's only his gear stick that needs servicing. Isn't that right, Bernard?"

I had no idea what she was going on about but it had put me off bangers and mash for life.

Draco coughed and I could see him shift out of the corner of my eye. He clearly wanted to interact.

"Play Quidditch at all?" he asked eventually, killing the silence. "I tried to bully father into getting me my own broom but apparently first-years aren't allowed. It's preposterous if you ask me."

I tore my eyes away from the window, slowly and deliberately casting them back at him. His face was looking expectantly across at me, almost as though he was hungry to get into a tirade about how unfair his spoilt little rich life was.

"So, do you?" he asked again when I had still said nothing, "do you fly your own broom?"

"And chip a nail?" I drawled lazily, coolly flicking a hand up to inspect my perfectly manicured fingers. "I don't think so."

Mother always said there was nothing more unsightly on a woman than blunt, dirty fingernails.

"Oh," Draco said, his face dropping slightly in disappointment. He seemed at lost as to what else to say.

Just then, the compartment door slid open.

A bright faced, bushy haired girl poked her head inside causing Draco to recoil back into his seat.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" She asked in a loud, bossy voice. "Neville here has lost one."

Behind her stood a nervous looking round faced boy; eyes watery and lower lip trembling.

"Do we look like the sort of people that hang out with toads?" Draco spat, his lip curling up in disgust.

"Oh," the girl said, taken aback by Draco's hostility. "I was just asking. Are you two new as well? My name is Hermione Granger and I was terribly excited to find out I'm a witch! My parents are dentists, you see, and never even heard of such a thing!"

Oh. I quickly stole a glance at Draco and found myself unsurprised by the look of pure revulsion upon his face.

"Kindly leave, will you," he snarled dangerously, hatred oozing from his every pore. "And if I come across that toad, I'll make sure to stamp on it real hard."

The boy let out a frightened whimper as the girl quickly stepped back; hurriedly sliding the door closed behind her without another word.

"It's utterly revolting who they allow into this school," Draco spat at once, his pale face pinched in fury. "Father was going to send me to Durmstang at first; but when he heard that Harry Potter was attending Hogwarts, he insisted I come here - despite the fact that I'll be forced to mingle with filthy Mudbloods!"

I tried not to visibly flinch. Nothing usually bothered me, not really; I was pretty chill about most things. But something didn't sit right with me about all this blood purity crap. Maybe it was because my mother had had a string of relationships with Muggle-borns between husbands ("It's not about what's in the blood - it's what's in the bank that counts.").

But either way, there was something rather crass about hating on someone because of something they couldn't help.

"Wasn't Harry Potter's mother a Muggle-born?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow up at him.

"So?!" Draco bristled, clearly rattled by my comment.

He suddenly stood up, straightening out his still plain black robes which I had no doubt would be sporting a certain green logo by the end of the day.

"I'm off to find the trolly witch," he grumbled, stepping over to the door before pausing to look back at me, "coming?"

But I just slowly shook my head, sighing heavily as I lay back in my seat and closed my eyes; thanking Merlin for some peace at last.

*****

"Slytherin!"

This was also no surprise to me. After reading up about Hogwarts houses, I knew pretty much straight away that I belonged in Slytherin.

I coolly sauntered across the Great Hall, not caring about the hundreds of pairs of eyes upon me.

The Slytherin table all cheered and clapped enthusiastically as I approached, and I could see Draco Malfoy beckoning me over, ordering one of the burly guys he had met on the train to scoot down.

"I knew you'd be a Slytherin," he said smugly; his silver eyes lighting up as I settled myself down beside him. "I could tell you're one of us."

"You could?" I intoned drily, raising my eyebrows as I leaned forward to start helping myself to the food that had suddenly appeared upon the table.

"Yes, not like that prat, Potter," Draco's face darkened upon saying his name; an automatic sneer curling upon his lips, "I could tell straight away that he was a Gryffindork. Hanging out with those Blood Traitors, thinking he's better than the rest of us!"

Draco had told me all about his meeting on the train with Harry the minute he had returned to the compartment with his new found bodyguards ("This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle.").

He had been incensed that not only had Harry Potter emptied the entire trolly of its contents but then also refused Draco's offer of friendship. It was literally all he harped on about for the remainder of the entire journey; the boat ride to the castle and all through the wait to be Sorted.

As soon as that Scottish woman called him up to be Sorted, I realised I hadn't spoken an entire word in five hours.

And now it looked as though I was about to suffer an entire mealtime of hearing about 'Harry Bloody Potter'. I hadn't even met the guy and I was already sick to death of him.

"...thinks he's so special with his stupid scar and four eyes..." Draco muttered bitterly as he aggressively piled potatoes onto his plate.

Sighing, I turned to the goon on my left who I'm pretty sure was the one named Crabbe. "Pass me the gravy, would you?"

"Huh?" the boy grunted, looking at me as if he didn't understand English.

"The gra-vy," I said, loudly and deliberately, this time miming pouring it onto my dinner.

The girl on his other side grabbed it and passed it over before Crabbe could work out what I had asked of him.

"Thank you," I nodded curtly at the girl; a fellow first year with a harshly cut dark haired bob.

"My name's Pansy," she smiled keenly as I relieved the gravy boat out of her hands. "What's yours?

"Blaire," I said, generously soaking my dinner.

"Oh, as in Zabini?" Pansy asked, her eyes widening in awe, "I've heard all about your mother, she sounds fascinating!"

"Fascinating is one word to describe her," I muttered under my breath, turning back to my food.

"Huh?" Draco said, looking at me as if he'd finally remembered I could actually speak. "What was that about Potter?"

Wow. This dude seriously needed to learn how to chill.

*****