Note: these chapters are going to probably not going to be as long as some fanfictions I have read. Hope they are short but sweet. Enjoy...

Draco was to attend an important event, held exclusively at the Manor. Not only was this the case, but five minutes beforehand, his Father had invited him to talk in his study.

He could sense the importance of this meeting and yet, he couldn't figure out the reason. Why, a day previous him mother had made him repeat the laws of etiquette until he was sure he would never be able to banish those thoughts from his head. He had neatly combed his hair and memorised the full names and position of every guest attending.

Once he'd finshed his studies, he sat and waited on the steps to the grand hall and began to worry - had his father had a reason to punish him?

He recoiled at the very thought. Draco remembered the last time he made that mistake: when he let Elinor - No, he mustn't let that muggle plague his thoughts, how could he have trusted her, with all they had done to us? His father was so angry he threatened to use the sectumsempra curse on him, or even crucio. Once Draco had fled to his room he knocked over an antique vase and smashed it: for the first time he blamed Dobby, in fear that his father would not let him off so lightly this time.

Before he could realise, it was time to meet with his father.

"Draco," Lucius Malfoy drawled, "As I assume you are well aware, we are having a few guests tonight."

"Yes F-f-father," stuttered Draco,

"A certain couple of ... friends ... have boys around your age ... they are to be your loyalest company,"

"Yes, Father,"

"But, Draco, make sure you take charge, all great men must have followers..." he continued, "We don't want you mixing with the wrong sort now, do we?"

"No, Father,"

Lucius glanced a look at the portrait of his sister-in-law in disgust, before meeting his eyes with those of his son's.

"Muggles and filthy Mudbloods."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

18th July. The time had come: A parchment envelope with his name in green ink lay in Draco's quivering hands. The Hogwarts letter. It was all what he had been waiting for: a place, a safe place, a place he could be away from his father, a place he could finally call home. But, it could be so much more. This would be his chance to change everything, gather followers just as the Dark Lord had once done, and bring down the muggle scum. He would be the greatest boy in the school, overshadowim everyone. So powerful, his father wouldn't ever beat him again! He had waited all day.

With this thought in mind, he ripped apart the crisp folds of the paper and read:

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

He was now shaking so much he just couldn't hold his excitement in. The prospect of finally learning magic was overwhelming, the fascination, the power it could give him. He already had Crabbe and Goyle, it would be easy to summon more, wouldn't it?

In whirl of thrill and anticipation Draco hurtled through the maze of corridors that made up his mansion, before coming to a sudden halt at his father's study. The door was already ajar.

' - He will never be ready Narcissa , there's no use denying it. He's a failure, weak and feeble, he is an embarassment, and I will let him know of this!'

' - No, Lucius how is supposed to do the dark lords bidding if we don't even send him to Hogwarts?'

' - Igor Karkaroff now runs Durmstrang, he will teach Draco of the Dark Lords ways.'

' - No, he must punish the filthy Mudbloods here and make that potter boy's life a misery, there's nothing Karkaroff can teach him that we can't'

' - We have already tried and failed, as of yet, he is as useless as muggle scum.'

' - He is your son!'

' - He is no son of mine!'

These words of foul tongue and slicing hate stabbed Draco a million times through his heart, despair raging through his body. His parents, both mother and father, freely talked about him in this way. How could he have failed? He'd done everything he was meant to do, but was he meant to do more?

They didn't love him. But they were the only people he'd ever known. He was their son. How could they say the things they said?

He raced through the woods surrounding the grounds, tears flooding his eyes and streaking down his pale cheeks. His heart drew him to the place long ago, the place that had given him happiness and hope; a light in the forever swirling pool of darkness.

Stopping at the gates of the children's park, he felt the peeling pain beneath his fingers. Now a reality of what he had dreamed for all these years, yet it was cold, feeble and lonely. For a place so alive and free, a deathly silence rang throughout the magicless sorcery.

His knees collapsed and he sat, all alone in the children's playpark at night, barely eleven, forced into this trechary and deceit. He felt most safe in a world he was taught to hate, as this was the place he felt most loved. But he was going to do something; something drastic. In two weeks he would visit Diagon Alley and befriend that who his father despised most. Harry Potter.