Celestia Eleanor Young is the newest generation of the Pure-blood Young family of Singapore. The Young Clan has the power of a monarchy and the wealth of a first-world country.
Not only does she have to prove herself to her family that she's capable...
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Mister Malfoy leads Draco and me down Knockturn Alley, an infamous little alley filled with undignified people and numerous shops devoted to the Dark Arts. He instructs Draco to hold my hand as this sort of scenery isn't very fit for a lady.
Our hands naturally latch onto each other like magnets. It isn't so much a romantic gesture—at least I didn't think so, it's just something that feels natural for our everlasting bond.
We enter Borgin and Burkes, a crowded and untidy shop that sells objects of dark magic and other dangerous artefacts. I find the interior of the shop insulting and unpleasing, while Draco seems fascinated with the objects on display. Being the curious bird he is, he tries to poke at a statuette but immediately shrinks back his hand when it was almost struck with a serpent-headed tip of a stick.
"Don't touch anything, Draco," Mister Malfoy warns him with a demanding tone.
"Yes, Father." He gulps. I snort and he throws a quick glare at me. He steadies the heavy black and gold chest in his arms that his father had ordered him to hold. Nothing besides the empty skewer of Bing Tanghulu rests in my own hands.
We had stopped by the very popular East Asian treats shop beforehand, which had grown twice the customers it had last year. Obviously, we got our desired treats with just a pinch of bribery. Draco finished his quite quickly, and I had just finished mine.
"Mister Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again." A greasy man whom I assume is Mr. Burgin appears and greets his guests, slightly slurring his words as well. "And young Master Malfoy too. Delighted." He then lays his eyes on me, who is poking a stand-up iron coffin with the tip of my skewer. "And who is this lovely and exotic young lady?"
"She doesn't concern you." Draco steps in front of me, staring the man down with a glare. I roll my eyes at both of their behaviors and resume poking at the iron coffin. I've heard worse vulgar words used to describe me, so that greasy man's was practically nothing. It's also the fact that Draco always seems so protective of me yet I'm the one who often ends up saving his arse the most.
Mr. Burgin's face heats up a bit from the embarrassment and awkwardness and clears his throat. He continues his conversation with Mister Malfoy, to which the latter informs him he is here to sell not buy. Mister Malfoy instructs Draco to place the heavy chest on the table. The chest contains a few items that nobody had bothered to bid on during the Malfoy Private Auction, so Mister Malfoy decided to pawn it off.
As Draco and I explore the shop, with him using his eyes and me with my pointy skewer, we overhear the two adults talking about their distaste for Muggles. Mr. Burgin then points at me and asks Mister Malfoy what blood status am I.
"If she isn't of the purest of pure-bloods, she wouldn't have been allowed walking alongside my son, would she?" Mister Malfoy defends me in his own way. I'd rather be compared for my blood purity than my ethnicity.
