A/N: This chapter takes place during chapter eight of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire ("The Quidditch World Cup) and chapter nine ("The Dark Mark").

Also, I'm pretty sure that Snape's not actually Draco's godfather (could someone check on that for me please?), but regardless, for this story, he will be.

Finally, I forgot to mention in the last author's note—the posting schedule will be the same as my last few stories: Saturdays between 5 and 9:00 p.m. PST.

Warning: Draco expresses mild anorexic and depressive thoughts.

Disclaimer: Part of the Lucius/Fudge conversation is very similar to what it was in the book.

Chapter Two: Death Eaters and the Dark Mark

As the Malfoys walked up the long stairs to their seats near the top by the Minister, Draco realized slowly that they'd be sitting near Harry Potter and the Weasleys, much to his displeasure. He didn't have to spend the whole night thinking about… him. Then again, it might warrant a good distraction from the rest of the evening. Quidditch was definitely boring, and thinking about Potter was not.

Stop it. You've got no chance, so you shouldn't even be thinking that! Just try and pay attention to the game.

Draco was jerked out of his internal argument by his father's obnoxious attempt to pretend as though he actually wanted to be there.

"Good evening, Cornelius," Lucius drawled, doing his best at giving the man a pleasant smile. Draco thought his father could do to work on his acting skills a good deal.

"Hello, Lucius, Narcissa. Of course, Draco. Good to see you here, good to see you here. Have you had a pleasant afternoon?" Lucius just nodded. Draco glanced at the man standing next to Fudge, and the Minister seemed to remember that he was there. "Oh, and why don't I introduce you to Oblansk—Oblonsk—O—well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and I can't say his name, but he doesn't speak any English, so never mind with the introductions. Now, have you met Arthur Weasley?"

Draco bit his lip. This wasn't likely to go well.

His eyes flitted away from them and landed on… Harry.

Damn.

Potter looked way too skinny. One could probably say the same about me, Draco thought. He tended to stop eating a whole lot over summer break since meals meant spending time around his parents. And, to be honest, Draco had been feeling a little depressed recently, and not eating made him feel better when that happened.

His mother put a hand on his shoulder and directed him to his seat while Lucius snapped a few short words at Mr. Weasley.

Draco sat down and listened as the Minister and his father exchanged a few words, and then settled his eyes on the field in front of him. He didn't care about Quidditch. Not even a little bit. It was mostly his father who enjoyed watching it, but sometimes Draco got the feeling that even Lucius didn't really find the sport entertaining.

As Ludo Bagman began to welcome everyone to the Quidditch World Cup, Draco let his eyes rest on the back of Potter's head. To be honest, he'd had a massive crush on the boy since the first time they'd met, but it wasn't like he could say that—ever. His father would probably disown him at best. Draco didn't want to think about what the worst case scenario would be though.

Draco saw the Bulgarian mascots coming out onto the field—veela. Music started to play and the veela began to dance. They did nothing for him, but he watched as Potter and Weasley stood up, looking like perhaps they were about ready to jump from the stands. He saw Granger shift in her seat a little bit too, looking away.

Interesting. So perhaps Granger swings that way. But Potter… never mind. I've got no chance. I should know that by now.

Draco glanced at his father, who had closed his eyes. Narcissa, on the other hand, was watching Draco with an odd expression on her face.

As the veela left the field, Draco shifted in his seat a bit. He didn't really want to watch the game. He could think of so many better ways to be spending an evening such as this.

The Irish team introduced their mascots and then Bagman began naming the various players of the team as they flew into the air, while Draco suppressed the urge to let out a loud groan. He was going to spend the next few hours in immense boredom, and he knew it.

In the end, Draco spent most of the game watching Potter and his friends. They all seemed so happy together… it was really rather saddening. It made his insides twist into painful, jealous knots. And yet he couldn't look away. There was something oddly fascinating about them that made Draco wondered if he would ever have friends like that, and if he did, would it mean he might actually be able to like himself? That was extremely doubtful, he supposed. They were happy together because they were trusting, kind, and were willing to make an effort. Draco, on the other hand, was not any of those things. They liked themselves because they were likable, and he was not.

As he and his family got up to leave the stands, Draco wondered what the coming school year would be like. He always liked school better than home, but not by much. Just because he didn't have a disapproving father right there breathing down his neck didn't mean that he didn't have to be careful about what he said and did. The only person who really knew what he was truly like on the inside was his godfather, Professor Snape. He hadn't actually told Snape that he was gay, but he got the feeling that the professor already knew. Snape had also been a great help with the visions, unlike his real father.

Draco saw the tent approaching and remembered what his father had said earlier. He knew that whatever Lucius was going to do with his "friends" wasn't going to end well. But how could he convince the prick of that?

Lucius grabbed Draco by the back of the collar and hissed, "Walk faster. You present yourself like ungrateful swine."

Draco grimaced but didn't object. Never mind. Perhaps his father deserved something to go wrong for once.

His mother, in a weak attempt to make the mood a little lighter, broke in between the two of them and said, "So, what did you think of the game, Draco? I thought it was interesting." He could tell by her tone and poor description that she really hadn't thought so, and had probably spent much of the game staring blankly at the field as he had.

"I thought it was splendid," Draco agreed half-heartedly, his response mimicking Narcissa's.

"Well, here's the tent," Narcissa continued. "Your father and I are just going to change into different robes and then we'll be gone. Remember, wait here for two hours and then leave. Alright?"

Draco murmured an automatic, "Yes," knowing that there wasn't really much else he could do but agree. He hoped that whatever they were doing didn't have to do with what they'd seen; those screams he'd heard had turned his stomach, and he didn't want to have to sit there and pretend like he accepted what they were doing.

He walked straight to his room and picked up a book, pretending to read, but instead listened to his parents whisper in another room.

"Lucius, do you really think this is wise?" Narcissa asked.

"No, but it will only last an hour, perhaps slightly more. I promise you—we will not get caught."

"You know getting caught wasn't what I was talking about," Narcissa sighed.

Half an hour later, the two of them walked out, not saying so much as a simple "goodbye" to Draco. He didn't mind, though. The less they said to him, the better.

Draco let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He hoped they didn't get into too much trouble. He might not like his parents much, but he did still want them to be safe.

He laid in bed for a while, wondering what was going to happen, until he started to hear yelling outside.

"Shit." Draco hopped up and checked the clock. It had been a little more time than his father had told him to wait for… by about an hour.

He grabbed his coat and raced out the door. He flew across the open field, and noted he was not the only one—others were fleeing as well. In the distance, he heard ominous chanting and painful shrieks of terror that pierced the air like newly sharpened daggers.

Draco wondered if he should perhaps attempt to help the people that his father and the others were inevitably targeting… no, that might make things worse. He wouldn't know what he was doing, and it wasn't as if his father would ever let that go. He couldn't even begin to imagine how angry his father would be if Draco interfered with something that was inevitably carefully planned out, despite how chaotic it seemed.

And so, guilt heavy in his heart, he made it to the forest, out of breath and standing on burning legs.

He peered around a tree, trying to get a good look at what was happening. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth together. He was pissed at his father. Lucius had been trying so hard for so long to not get caught, and then he went off and did this. And sure, he was usually pretty bad when speaking about Muggle-borns and Muggles in general, but once again: this. On his way running here, he'd seen several of the Muggle officers that had been at the gates on the ground. And he knew his father—that man would never attack a pureblood wizard. There was no way that group was just doing this to get a riot out of people. They were doing this with the sole purpose of hurting people with non-magical blood.

From behind him, he heard a loud thud, causing him to jump slightly. Draco turned around slowly, as silently as he could, but the voices he heard caused him to relax a little.

"What just happened? Ron, Harry, are you alright?" came the distinct sound of Hermione Granger's voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Potter's voice rang out.

"Hang on, I tripped over a tree root," Weasley grunted, clearly frustrated.

"Oh, alright," Granger said. "Perhaps we should just wait here—"

Draco, knowing they wouldn't be safe enough staying in this relatively open part of the forest, interrupted, "Yeah, no wonder. Your feet are the size of an elephant's." He needed to get them away from here, and then he could get moving. He'd be safe a little longer. If they caught him, they'd probably let him go. But Granger, Weasley, and Potter…

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Weasley snorted.

Draco raised his eyebrows as he heard Potter and Granger both let out snorts of surprise. "Tsk, tsk. Language, Weasel. Now, you should probably be running along shouldn't you?" If those wizards got to where they were, he'd be spared, but they wouldn't be. "You wouldn't want Granger to be found, now would you? I'd hate to see what they would do to a filthy Mudblood like her." He suppressed a cringe. He hated saying it, but they really would be caught if they didn't get a move on.

"What do you mean?" Granger snapped.

"You see who they're going after. Muggles. And to them, a Mudblood is no different."

"Watch your mouth, Malfoy," Weasley snarled.

Draco shrugged. "I'm being honest."

"Oh, really, like you care," Weasley snapped. "I mean, honestly, your father's probably one of them!"

Draco just shrugged again. "And if he is? Your father is probably one of the ones racing around foolishly trying to play hero! At least my father knows how to pick the battles he can win."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Weasley growled, stepping closer.

"Ron," Granger groaned. "He isn't worth it! Let's get going! Seriously!"

Finally taking the hint, Weasley grumbled along after Granger and Potter. At least they would have a shot at being safe.

Draco listened to their footsteps as they ran away. When he felt that they were far enough, he turned and moved deeper into the forest.

When he reached a quiet spot, he curled up underneath of a tree. It was cold and damp.

He rested his head against his knees letting out a groan. How could his parents think that this was a good idea? Getting involved in something like this again? And they were probably with a bunch of former Death Eaters too, to make matters worse.

Draco sat there in the cold and dark for what felt like hours, and very easily could have been.

When his back started to cramp up, he decided it was probably safe to stand. He leaned his head back and looked up at the sky, just in time to see it flash green. He shuddered slightly as he saw what now lay with the stars—a solid 500 feet from him the Dark Mark now scarred the sky.

He hoped that neither of his parents was near there. If they were…

In the distance, he heard the commotion beginning to calm down.

He took a deep breath. He couldn't believe that this was what his father had been planning to do. But the Dark Mark… no, that couldn't have been part of it. Draco knew his father would be terrified by that. And to be honest, so was he.

That mark blazing across the sky did not mean good things for anyone, no matter where they stood with the Dark Lord. It spelled almost certain ruin for the wizarding world, especially if that was just the start.

Chapter Release Date: March 3, 2018