A/N: Disclaimer: I, of course, am not J.K. Rowling. So I don't own anything she does. Also, feel free to read and review! I'd love some feedback.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap. Draco rolled over sleepily and looked at the window. It was a gray owl with his copy of The Daily Prophet. He hardly ever read it anymore, but he took one every morning just the same. He rubbed his eyes and opened the drawer next to his bed, pulling out the appropriate change. The bird kept tapping the window impatiently.

"I'm obviously coming, you could have a little patience." He said as he opened the window.

Great, he thought, you are so lonely you're talking to owls. He shook his head as he took the paper from the owl and gave it the money. Pathetic.

He looked at the headlines of the paper,

HARRY POTTER TAKES POSITION AS SEEKER FOR CHUDLEY CANNONS

Draco sneered. "Stupid git." he said.

The second headline read,

MINISTRY OF MAGIC TEMPORARILY CLOSED DUE TO EXPLODING PAPERWORK

He threw the Daily Prophet on the bed, unwilling to read anymore. He was about to go to the kitchens for lunch (he'd have slept later if it hadn't been for the Prophet's owl) when he heard a familiar noise.

Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap. He stomped back over to the window.

"I paid you, go away!" He grumbled as he opened it. The owl flew inside and perched on his dresser. This owl was not the one from the Prophet, it was more of an orange color and seemed to be a more patient bird. He walked over and took the letter that was tied to its ankle.

"Uh, thanks." He said. The owl hooted once before flying away.

Draco was unsure of who this letter could be from, or even what it could be about. He hadn't recognized the owl that had brought it, and he was not expecting mail from anyone. With a shrug, he opened it and read,

Dear Draco,

We've some news from your father. He would have written you himself, but as you know, prisoners in Azkaban aren't allowed contact with the outside world. He worked very hard to get this information to us so we could pass it along to you. Meet tomorrow down Knockturn Alley, near the back entrance to Borgin & Burkes.

He put the letter down and sighed. What could his father want? He was truly skeptical of his father trying to get information to him. Draco had testified against his father during the trials after the war, and in return for his testimony (along with the help he'd given to The Order of the Phoenix), Draco had escaped going to Azkaban himself. That fact alone made him a little suspicious of his father's intentions. Even more dubious was the lack of a signature at the bottom of the letter. And without informing him as to who they were, the mysterious senders had requested to meet in Knockturn Alley, a place commonly used by dark wizards. Although the only wizards Lucius would be able to sneak information to would indeed be former death eaters, meeting in a place so well known for its ill intentioned customers made Draco a little nervous.

Over a bowl of potato soup, Draco pondered whether or not he should meet these mysterious friends of his father. The letter as a whole had seemed a bit dodgy, and Draco wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with Lucius's antics anyhow. Not only that, but it had been months since he'd left the Manor. After the trials and aftermath of the war, Draco had stayed home to care for Narcissa. Once she went into a coma, Draco hadn't had the energy or drive to leave the house. Crabbe and Goyle were both dead. Pansy was still as stupid as ever, and now that he didn't have to keep up family appearances (there was no one left to force him to do so) he'd pushed her away, out of his life. Blaise Zabini had tried to owl him a few times, but Draco hadn't been interested in seeing him. The last letter Zabini had sent him was about six months ago, and it was to tell Draco that he was getting married. Draco had replied with an owl that simply said,

I wish you the best in life. I hope you are very happy.

D.M.

There hadn't been anyone of consequence in his life besides those four people and his family. He had been so arrogant and haughty in his time at school that he hadn't made any true friends. At the time, he'd thought he could do everything himself. He was a Malfoy, after all, and Malfoys do not need help. Nor do they fail. And Draco had failed, quite miserably, in his task from Voldemort. Draco hadn't killed Dumbledore, and in the end, he had turned his back on the Dark Arts and fled to take refuge with The Order. He'd even ended up helping them, spying on his father and stealing information from Malfoy Manor. Draco's thoughts drifted back to his father's trial.

"YOU ROTTEN TRAITOR!" His father had screamed, fighting the magical bindings that kept him to the chair. "I'll kill you if I ever get the chance. You are no longer my son, you filthy sack of muggle shit!" His face was red and puffy from struggling. Draco had never seen his father this way; where was the cool, calm, collected Lucius everyone knew? He'd surmised that Lucius had somewhat lost his mind once he'd realized there was no way out. No way to avoid Azkaban, no way to avoid penance for the atrocities he'd committed. He had murdered hundreds of people, wizard and muggle alike. He'd tortured countless others. All in the name of Voldemort. And still, even after the death of his master, he was loyal to the cause. Pure blooded wizardry was all Lucius ever cared about. And Draco had believed every lie that had come out of his father's mouth for a very long time. Once his father had begun to force him to work for the Dark Lord, Draco had started to think with a mind of his own. And that had made him the person he was today. He had abandoned his puristic values about blood lines. A person was a person, whether muggle, pureblood, or mudblood. His hatred for people who weren't exactly like him had made him a friendless, almost soulless person with no ambition, no drive, and no love for anything. He had nothing to strive towards, no one to live for. And now, after destroying his own family and bringing Draco to this miserable point in his life, Lucius wanted to tell him something? It was all too unreal. He spent another endless day of loafing about the manor and feeling sorry for himself, thinking about whether or not he should go. At one point, he wondered if the information his father's lackeys had would help keep Lucius in Azkaban even longer. And while his father was not going to see the light of day for a very long time, Draco wanted to extend that day as far into the future as possible. In the end, curiosity won out, and he decided that the next day, he would take a trip to Diagon Alley.