Literature, Smut, and Adult Themes

Starting with meeting Draco in Madam Malkin’s Robes.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when Harry started to speak. “Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hullo,” said the boy, “Hogwarts too?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley for an instant, before he realize a salient fact: this other boy, with a family and apparent wealth, was talking to him as if they were equals. He had begun talking to Harry because he wanted to (apparently), and for the first time in his life, Harry felt like he could make a friend of his own; Hagrid was a friend, true, but not a school friend of his own age.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on.

“No,” said Harry. Not wanting to impart his unusual upbringing, Harry tried to make his voice carry a note of “Oh, no, I don’t currently have a broom, but will get one soon”. He didn’t know why, but he began to feel like he ought to impress the other boy, and tried to keep level with the following conversation.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch was. However, he quickly covered by adding, “well, not really...”

“I do – Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm” said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

“I say, look at that man!” said the boy suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice-creams to show he couldn’t come in.

“That’s Hagrid,” said Harry, pleased to finally have the upper hand. With his best ‘didn’t you know that?’ voice, Harry continued, “He works at Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” said the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s sort of a servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” said Harry, smug in the knowledge that he again knew more.

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage – lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“I think he’s brilliant,” said Harry in a small voice. Though he was a bit upset over the other boy’s rude opinions, he felt bad for him in a way; he had not known Hagrid – had only heard about him – and he felt that, given the right circumstances, the boy might like Hagrid. He didn’t know why he had such faith, though.

“Do you?” said the boy, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” said Harry shortly. He didn’t feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

“Oh, sorry,” said the other, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and a wizard, if that’s what you mean.”

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

Before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Harry, slightly unhappy to see him go, waved goodbye.

Watching the boy leave the shop, Harry was left with a thousand thoughts. Foremost was the vision of parents; after hearing the talk about shopping and family life, Harry couldn’t help but feel sort of jealous of the boy. For a brief moment, while Madam Malkin was finishing up his robe, he began to think about sharing ice cream with his dad instead of Hagrid, or having his mother finishing trimming his robes instead of an unfamiliar store clerk. Though he didn’t really have an image of them in his head, he was nevertheless comforted by the idea of parents.

Secondly, Harry ran over his conversation with the boy in his mind. During the entire time, the boy had been actually interested in Harry, asking questions and giving a bit of advice. Though he was horribly stuck up, the boy was actually kind of likeable (in Harry’s opinion). He hadn’t bullied Harry, though he could have, and he appeared to be stating stale opinions from his parents (without his heart in any of them).

With these thoughts and more, Harry hopped down from the footstool and walked out the door.