No Time to Dally in Diagon
The Malfoys stepped out of Gringotts with their usual air of practiced superiority, Narcissa carrying herself like royalty while Lucius glanced around the bustling alley as though it were beneath him. Ursa and Draco trailed behind, their pale hair glinting in the afternoon sun.
“First, Madam Malkin’s for your robes,” Narcissa announces, her gaze cutting through the crowd. “your father and I will purchase other necessities during your fitting.”
"Meet us promptly at the wand shop when finished" demands Lucius, who then turns and gives Draco a knowing look, "which means no brief stops at any quidditch stores."
“I think that owl over there just winked at me,” Draco declares, pointing dramatically at a display window.
Ursa tilts her head. “It’s stuffed, Draco.”
“Still counts,” he replied with a sniff, adjusting his collar.
Narcissa gave them both a warning glance. “Behave. We’re here to shop, not draw attention.”
Ursa and Draco exchanged a look—the one that siblings perfected when silently agreeing to ignore their mother’s advice.
Ursa rolled her eyes but bit back a grin. 'don't think I didn't notice you changing subjects', she thought toward him through their twin bond, letting her amusement hum faintly between them.
Draco flicked his gaze to her, his lips twitching. 'staring at brooms is way more exciting than boring fabrics.'
Ursa smirked but stayed silent as they entered Madam Malkin’s.
---
The shop smelled faintly of fabric softener and warm wool, with bolts of cloth stacked high along the walls. Narcissa directed Mrs. Malkin toward Ursa first before leaving, who then gestured for her to step onto a fitting stool.
“Stand straight,” she instructed, though the female Malfoy was already posing like she’d been born for the moment.
When she was finished Ursa then wandered toward the back of the shop, her attention caught by a shimmering display of fabrics. She ran her fingers over a bolt of deep green velvet, imagining how it might look as a dress for a future event.
Draco’s voice carried over the bustling shop as the assistant pinned his sleeves. “Make sure they’re tailored properly. None of that baggy nonsense.”
Ursa hummed to herself, holding up a swatch of gold-threaded fabric against the green. The combination was stunning. She never even noticed when another boy shuffled into the fitting area beside Draco, his messy black hair and round glasses making him stand out like a misplaced page in a pristine book.
“First year?” Draco asked, eyeing him with mild curiosity.
The boy nodded. “Yeah.”
“What house are you hoping for?”
The boy hesitated. “I don’t… know.”
Ursa picked up another bolt of fabric, this one a deep burgundy, and draped it over the green.
“You don’t know?” Draco repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. “What about Quidditch? Surely you’ve heard of Quidditch?”
“Er… no,” the boy admitted.
Draco stared at him, aghast. “You’ve never heard of Quidditch?”
Ursa, still lost in her fabric daydreams, hummed again softly to herself.
When Draco finally stepped off the stool, his robes neatly folded into a bag, he strode over to where Ursa stood. “Finished playing dressmaker?” he asked, nudging her shoulder.
She shot him a look but let him lead her back to their parents, her newly hemmed robes waiting in a package for her at the counter.
As they stepped back onto the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, Draco groaned loudly. “You missed it.”
“Missed what?” Ursa asked, tilting her head.
“There was a boy in there,” Draco began, his voice filled with a mix of triumph and exasperation. “Didn’t even know what Quidditch was. Can you imagine?”
Ursa blinked. “Quidditch? Seriously?”
“I had to explain everything—houses, the Sorting Hat, even Hogwarts itself. He looked at me like I was speaking gobbledegook,” Draco said, clearly scandalized.
“Maybe he’s Muggleborn?” Ursa suggested.
“Obviously,” Draco sniffed. “But he was completely clueless. I bet he ends up in Hufflepuff.”
Ursa smirked. “at least he will fit in.”
Draco snorted. “True.”
Then the twins dashed, elegantly of course, to Ollivanders in order to make the final and most important stop. Although, along the way, Ursa couldn't stop feeling like she might have forgotten an important detail in the timeline.
---
The bell above the door jingled as the family entered the narrow, dusty shop. Ursa shivered slightly at the dim, mysterious atmosphere. Wands in boxes stacked precariously high covered every wall, and the faint smell of polished wood and old magic hung in the air.
“Ah, the Malfoy's,” came a soft, airy voice. Mr. Ollivander appeares from between the shelves, his pale eyes glinting. He then grabs a stack of wands and stabilizes them on the nearest available space. “We’ll begin with you, Mr. Malfoy,” gesturing Draco forward.
Draco stepped up, grinning. “This won’t take long.”
---
And it didn’t. The second wand Ollivander handed Draco—a sleek, polished hawthorn with a unicorn hair core—sent sparks flying in an elegant arc.
“Perfect,” Draco said smugly, waving it like a conductor’s baton.
“Indeed,” Ollivander murmured. “Hawthorn wands suit those with great potential but… complex natures.” His eyes glinted. “Strange.”
Draco frowned slightly. “What’s strange?”
“Oh, nothing,” Ollivander said airily.
Ursa stifled a laugh as Draco walked back to her. 'Complex nature', she thought toward him, 'that just means you're dramatic.'
Draco shot her a mock glare but smiled, leaning against the counter as it became her turn.
“And now,” the wandmaker said softly, “the other Malfoy twin.”
---
Ursa’s selection was anything but swift. She cycled through wand after wand, each one misbehaving more dramatically than the last. One wand sent a stream of flames into the ceiling; another caused a shelf to teeter precariously.
“Maybe I’m not wand material,” she said dryly after the fifth failure.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco interjected. “You’re a Malfoy. You’re just… taking your time.”
Ursa turned to him, her expression flat. “Thanks for the insight, Professor Patience.”
Finally, Ollivander pulled out a wand from the very back of a high shelf. The box seemed older, the wood within pale and elegant.
“Vine wood,” he murmured, handing it to her with a strange reverence. “Twelve and a half inches, dragon heartstring core.”
The moment Ursa touched it, warmth blossomed through her fingers, and the air around her seemed to hum softly. The wand felt alive in her hand, its energy both soothing and powerful.
“Fascinating,” Ollivander said, his eyes glittering. “Vine wands are rare. They are drawn to those with hidden depths… and a vision beyond the ordinary.” He paused, his gaze sharpening. “It seems you’ve had quite a journey already, Miss Malfoy.”
Ursa froze, her heart skipping a beat. Did he know?
But before she could react, Ollivander continued as if nothing had happened. “A perfect match.”
---
As they left the shop, Draco was still waving his wand around, practicing dramatic flourishes.
“Careful, Draco,” Ursa said. “You’ll poke someone’s eye out.”
“Better than yours,” he shot back. “That wand looks like it’s for someone who writes poetry or something.”
Ursa smirked. “Maybe it is. Better that than a wand for someone who talks too much.”
“Rude,” Draco huffed.
---
As they walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron, Narcissa and Lucius exchanged a look.
“We have something for you,” Lucius announced, his tone switching to one of more familiar indulgence.
From behind his back, he produced a sleek, gray-feathered owl with piercing yellow eyes.
Draco’s jaw dropped. “An owl? Just for us?”
“It will be useful for sending letters,” Narcissa said with a smile.
Ursa reached out, her hand brushing over the owl’s soft feathers. A thrill of excitement rippled through her.
Draco grinned at her, the twin bond humming faintly between them. 'Hogwarts is going to be brilliant.'
Ursa met his gaze and nodded, her heart racing with anticipation. 'Absolutely.'