Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Draco, or any of this, really. Just the plot. After all, if I owned Draco and all the rest, do you think I'd be writing fanfiction for all you fine people?

Not likely. I'd be out with all the rich snobs, drinking champagne and such. Fortunately for you all, I don't like champagne.

'thoughts'

"speech"

Flashback

Excerpt from the book (In flashback. Excerpts are also modified to fit Draco's point of view. Don't worry folks, changes are nothing major, just a few words and possibly a sentence is modified every here and there.)

Please R&R! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and if you do review, I'll make sure to keep writing, I promise! I'll also reply to your reviews at the beginning of each chapter.

Enjoy!

Aranel

Prologue

Draco stared out the window at the steadily approaching Malfoy Manor. How he hated the long, torturous months of summer!

He knew this summer was going to be the worst of the lot. Voldemort had once again let Harry Potter, boy extraordinaire, slip through his fingers. It was partly Draco's fault, he knew that as well. Draco was one of them, he'd been told. He needed to prove his loyalty to Voldemort, it was said. What better way of doing that than destroying the boy who had brought about the Dark Lord's downfall?

But Draco couldn't do it. As much as he disliked Potter, he could not murder the one who had brought happiness into his life, even if it was for only a short time. For Draco was not the boy he portrayed himself to be. Draco had once known what it was like to be content, happy.

He had once known the meaning of family, or so he had thought. He had been blissfully ignorant to his father's true colours, until now.

Before he started school, Draco and his mother had been close. His father had never had the time to bother with a lively son, so he had turned to his mother for company and had not been disappointed. She would read to him, or play with him. She had taught him to ride, not long after he had started to walk. But that had all changed when he started school.

Draco hugged his mother tightly, holding back the tears he knew where sure to come if he wasn't careful. Father didn't like crying, it showed weakness.

"I love you, mum," he had said quietly, as they parted.

"I love you too, my son," She had returned softly, and handed him a smooth, wooden box with small holes in the lid.

"What is this?" He'd asked, confused.

"Do not open it now. Instructions are inside. Wait until you are somewhere private. Now, do you remember everything your father told you?"

"I think so…He said he wanted me to be the best in my grade, and that I will be in Slytherin because he was, not to befriend mudbloods, and….um…" He looked to his mother for help.

"He wants you to guard your emotions and feelings. He also says to beware of Harry Potter. Do you remember what he told you about him?"

"Oh yes! He said that Harry Potter was the cause of the Dark Lord's downfall, and that he is not to be trusted. I'm to befriend him if possible, and learn as much as I can as to how it came about," He had said, and his mother had nodded affectionately.

"You'd better get on the train now, Drake, it's about to leave," she exclaimed, using her pet name for him.

He ran towards the train, box tucked securely under his arm, and hopped on the

train just as the huge wheels started to turn.

"Bye mum!" he yelled, waving until the Hogwarts express rounded a corner and she disappeared from sight.

Draco frowned as he remembered the exchange. He had been so young, so naïve.

He walked into the compartment he had stashed his trunk in earlier, and sat down to study the contents of the mysterious box. He gently slid off the lid and stared at the contents in surprise. For there, in that little box, was a tiny peregrine falcon chick, looking up at him imploringly and chirping. He picked up the parchment included and started to read.

To my dear son,

I found this peregrine falcon a few days ago during a stroll around the grounds. She seems to have been abandoned, and I thought you, with your love of birds, might like to look after her.

As you know, a baby can eat the same thing the adults of its kind can, it just needs to be softer, and finer.

If you need any help with her, go to Professor Grubbly Plank will be able, and more than happy, I'm sure, to help.

Take good care of her, and of yourself. Make your father and me proud!

Narcissa

Draco looked at the bird again, then quickly put the lid back on as two people walked in. They were both ugly, and quite slow-witted.

Draco recognized them instantly.

"Crabbe! Goyle! Where have you been?" he demanded, but happy he had found somebody he knew.

"We went to find the food trolley," Goyle said slowly. "But we heard some news we thought might interest you. Harry Potter is in one of the compartments further down the train. We saw him get on."

Draco looked from one to the other. "You two are brilliant!"

Goyle looked thunderstruck, while Crabbe just looked confused. "What sir?" Crabbe asked.

Looking slightly disappointed, Draco shook his head. "Nothing, nothing..." he said to them, grimacing. They hadn't changed a bit.

"Come on, we're going down to pay a visit to Mr. Harry Potter."

Draco shuddered. He had known nothing then. He hadn't known just how terrible things were when Voldemort was alive. How could he have known? He was a newborn baby when The Dark Lord had been vanquished.

Draco had just been his daddy's minion. He had wanted, more than anything, to please his father, the man he worshipped. Draco snorted. 'How I could have thought of that man as a hero, I'll never know. He was a murderer. He doesn't know the meaning of the word family, or love.

The only thing Lucius had ever wanted was power.

Draco entered the compartment Crabbe pointed out, followed closely by the duo.

"Is it true?" he asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. "So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Standing either side of him, Draco knew they looked like his very own personal bodyguards.

"Oh this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco said carelessly. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly.

Draco didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his cheeks, much to his own disgust.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. You hang around riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up. Ron's face was as red as his hair.

"Say that again," Ron growled.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" he sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food, and you still seem to have some."

'Well, Crabbe and Goyle have eaten all the food, but that doesn't mean I have to starve, does it?"

Goyle reached towards the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron- Ron leapt forward, but before he'd even so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Ron's ugly rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle. Crabbe and Draco backed away as Goyle swung it round and round, howling, and when the rat finally flew off and hit the window, they decided they'd had enough, and disappeared at once.

Draco smirked. Goyle still had the scar from that accursed rat- no, sorry, Pettigrew.

He was jerked out of his thoughts as the chauffeur driven Merc stopped, and waited for the huge, stately gates to open.

I know, I know, I'm sorry. It's short, and it's not that interesting yet, but be patient, it's only the prologue, and it will get better (I hope!). If you have anything you particularly want to happen in the story, please review, and tell me what you want to happen, and I'll see if it'll work with the story.

Tata!

Aranel