Draco Malfoy pulled the collar of his robes higher as he walked down Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron in a hopeless attempt to hide his face and distinctive platinum hair. Draco, thankfully, had found another method to stamp out the staring people in a crowd: glaring.

He scowled at a passing child, who had looked at him and smiled. Smile no longer, plebian.

Draco likes to say that he had mastered the art of glaring at an early age, and that wouldn't be false. He enjoys the scampering away of his victims, the squeals of terror (especially on newbie first years at Hogwarts), and the frightened glances that he gets back, because it lets him know that they recognize his superiority.

As they rightfully should.

But now, Draco is too distracted to glare- too distracted by the weight on his shoulders. He had a private meeting with Dumbledore in five minutes, (and that made him feel grown up and responsible.) Draco had thought about just blowing up the whole place to get through, because the Alley was so packed, he wished he could just apparate already. He couldn't, obviously, because he wasn't of age.

But that didn't stop the Dark Lord from wanting him as a slave.

His thoughts were jumping around everywhere.

Draco rubbed his unmarred forearm in anticipation as he reached the Leaky Cauldron and sat down at a barstool. He tried hard to shoot nasty glares at the most haggard hags, but wasn't feeling it.

He did feel, however, a gnarly hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Mister Malfoy, I have a room open for us to chat in," Professor Dumbledore said.

Draco swallowed hard, but raised his head and pushed his chair away from the bar. He nodded to Tom the Barman, whom he found tolerable, and followed his Headmaster, who he was supposed to kill, up the stairs.

Headmaster Dumbledore stared at him above his half-moon glasses in a grandfatherly fashion, which frankly, Draco found extremely disconcerting. He expected to feel the prod of Occlumency in his mind, but Dumbledore just stared. And stared.

Draco cleared his throat, quietly alarmed and very uncomfortable under his scrutinizing stare. "Sir… I requested to meet with you today because the Dark Lord has come to me to ask of me a favor in exchange f-" His voice cracked ungracefully and Draco started again, "in exchange for the Dark Mark."

Dumbledore just nodded thoughtfully, and it made Draco want to bash his head against the wall. "Yes, I thought that would happen sometime soon. So, he asked you to kill me, has he not?"

Draco's eyes widened and his blonde eyebrows shot up. "Er… yes sir." What were you supposed to say to that?

Dumbledore nodded again and stroked his beard. "I assume you have come with an alternate plan," he said knowingly.

Draco twitched. It was absolutely maddening. He licked his dry lips.

"Yes sir. I would like to request protection for my family and myself in exchange for my services to the Order of the Phoenix."

Dumbledore nodded once more. "Yes, of course. You are a Malfoy, after all. Family is what matters the most. I admire that, my boy."

Draco's cheeks warmed a bit, and he guessed that was part of the grandfatherly charm. Dumbledore's eyes warmed a bit, too, and he smiled.

"Well then, my boy, you can start this weekend in fact! I have the perfect initiation opportunity for you."

Draco had a bad feeling about this.

_|~O.O~|_

It was raining hard in Little Whinging, Surrey, Harry noted duly. The rain pounded against the cold window panes and suddenly, Harry's scar flared up, causing him to jump and his muscles to tense. He sighed and set his burning forehead on the window, sniffling slightly and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweater.

It was the middle of June.

Harry closed his eyes and was on the brink of drifting off to sleep when he felt the window shake and heard a tapping. He jerked up and rushed to open the lock to let in Hedwig, who was carrying a bag of letters from the Ministry Post office. Finally.

After the death of Sirius Black, Harry had lost the last prospective guardian on his list of trusted people. He began to research more on his family and about how the wizarding world works. He learned so much, like how wizarding banking works, what rights heirs had access to, the history of Pureblood bigotry, and how wizarding courts worked, since he felt awfully dumb sitting in the 3,000 year old Wizengamot Court used to try thousands of killers over centuries (and one teenage boy who used the Patronus Charm in front of a squib and his muggle cousin).

Harry wanted to be informed, educated, and aware. He was tired of manipulations, white lies, and of being so dependent on Hermione for knowledge. He wanted to know everything.

That's why Harry Potter's poor owl had just arrived from the Ministry Post office with a bag of blocked letters from since he was a child.

He grabbed a fluffy white towel off the floor and set it on the floor of Hedwig's "nook," which was just a small, dark, cozy corner of his room containing Hedwig's food, a heater and fan that he got after exchanging five knuts for 10 euros.

He turned the heater on and bit his lip and he saw his snowy owl settle on the rapidly dampening towel. Flooded with guilt, he went to his loose floorboard and creaked it open, revealing a collection of books. He scanned the titles with his head tilted slightly to the right and found the book he needed: Ministry secrets for the average witch or wizard.

Harry flipped through the pages and reached the spell he had glanced over a few weeks back.

He disabled the Ministry tracking charm and hurried to Hedwig, to whom he sent a drying and extra warming charm.

"Thank you, Hedwig."

Hedwig hooted feebly and nibbled at her bacon.

Harry turned back to the bag on his bed and was about to open it when he remembered the standard precautions. He turned back to the floorboard and retrieved the proper spells. He steeled himself and said,

"Revale" Nearly fourty ordinary-looking letters flew out. Harry exhaled shakily and incanted the more detailed spells.

"Expiritum" Ten

"Denovso" Four

"Ipsumia" One.

He ran downstairs as quietly as possible, keeping his wand steady as the life- threatening letters floated in front of him. Passing the completely unaware Dursleys, who were watching the telly like a normal family, he used his free hand to snatch up an aluminium tin and raincoat and took his supplies to the rainy, cold backyard, where he hid behind the garden shed and sent an Incendio to the letters. They roared with the fire and a black wisp flew up from the flames.

Harry checked the time. He had 30 seconds before the temporary disabling charm would make the Ministry on high alert. He smothered the fire with the tin. He made sure his wand was secure in his waistband before he climbed out from behind the shed and brought his tin full of ashes to the garbage can on the corner of the property, smiling distractedly at the rustling bushes.

"Hello, Nymphadora, a bit cold and wet out for watch, don't you think?"

Tonks pushed herself out of the shrub, frowning disgruntledly as she pulled a stray twig out of her muddy brown hair.

"Well, it is my shift. I'm just doing my job."

Harry pulled a leaf off her jacket and agreed.

"Yeah, I guess that's what we're all trying to do at this point."

Tonks looked at the leaf in his hand and back up at Harry, who smiled a bit sadly and dropped the leaf. He took off his raincoat and handed to her, leaving him in his old blue sweater.

"Here, you need it." He walked back inside, his hands balled for warmth in the pockets of his jeans, and heard the leaves rustle again.

_|~O.O~|_