A/N: This story was written for the Disney Villains Challenge in the Challenges Forum. It might take a little bit to figure out. This is the most subtle story I've written, I think, but I quite like how it turned out, even if it was a bit short and lacking in the description department. Reviews would be appreciated, and if you're confused after reading the story you can always message me.
The Slytherin Common room, painted and robed like an heiress, had only three occupants tonight. Most of the older Slytherins had gone out for a pint; Professor Snape didn't mind if they promised to be back by midnight. They never were, but so long as they didn't complain to him about their hangovers, he didn't quite mind. He seemed to have other things on his mind with the war brewing. Besides, a pint in a time like this wouldn't go amiss. But three of the boys who could have most used one sat in the common room, alone except for one another, and even more alone because of the company. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott, Voldemort's rising stars. All pureblooded, all marked, and all ready to give up their lives without a moment's notice. Though, the more Blaise Zabini reflected, he wouldn't give up his life because his Lord asked him. He'd been ready to give it up a fair few years ago.
Theodore Nott had only one reason to be in the Common Room on the Thursday before another Death Eater meeting: his dorm mates deemed him too drunk to go outside. A bottle of fire whisky cradled in one arm and another sitting next to him, even Draco thought Theo might have had a little too much to drink. Far from Draco to remark on it, not with his mother's tendencies. Theo could drink however the hell much he wanted, and he did, and copiously. A life such as this one lent itself to a few habits.
Draco had taken to minding everyone's business but his own. Sad as it was to snoop into the lives of others, becoming the Slytherin gossip certainly felt better than focusing on his own parents. At this point, the "young Malfoy heir," cared very little about what his parents wanted. He gave his future for them; it would be rather crass for them to ask for anything else.
"Hey Blaise, what happened with your mum again?"
Blaise mumbled something incoherent about her being arrested for something.
"Oh," Draco trailed off and smirked. "Did she kill anyone then?"
"In a sense." Blaise said and toyed nervously with his newly bald head. Draco wondered why he'd shaved it, and why he shaved it just before his mother was arrested.
At breakfast the next day, Blaise's orange juice exploded when the mail came. One mumbled apology and a quick cleaning charm later, and it was forgotten. Drinks exploded a lot at the Slytherin table this year it seemed. Malfoy cocked an eyebrow as he watched Blaise read his letter, and Blaise fumed. Draco wouldn't forget, or think it was some 'Death Eater Thing.' He would ask about it later. Perhaps Blaise would just show him the letter, let Draco figure it out for himself.
Dear Son,
I am of course writing in this manner so that certain people may not be privy to family conversations. I would simply like you to take care of shifting the Manor from winter to spring this year, in particular remembering to change out my wardrobe and coats for the newer spring frocks. When I arrive at home from my stay in London, I would like to see the house ready to welcome the warmer weather, and coats can leave some rather… hairy messes when they're not stored properly.
Yours waiting but not for long,
Mother
Blaise shuddered. He never liked coats much.