You are going to hate me. Like, really, you are.

I am going to apologize right off the bat and say that these two updates are not going to make you happy. I am not likely returning to this story any time in the near future. I have just had these two scenes laying around in my computer and I was tired of seeing them go to waste.

The first one takes place during Christmas of Draco's first year.

The second would take place at the end of Draco's first year, right after I would have had him witness Voldemort attached to Quirrell's head shortly before Quirrell went in after the Stone.

I wish you wouldn't hate me. In fact, if you enjoy my writing style, I'd like to invite you as I participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in which I attempt to write 50,000 words this month on a novel. You can find me on the site as thejealousone. I will also be posting the story on fictionpress under the same name. If you'd like to continue to support me in my writing, feel free to follow me on Twitter and Tumblr (again: thejealousone), and you can also stay updated with my life on YouTube under the name "Justtubed."

"Draco!"

And before I could barely place my bags upon the ground, my mother had scooped me up in her arms and was embracing me. I allowed her a quick embrace, then waited until she started placing kisses on my cheeks to squirm away. Noticing my uncomfortable demeanor, she let me go, already missing me.

"Draco, you must tell me all about these last few months, since you refused to write me," she said, taking the bag from my hands and placing it in Dobby's elf fingers, which were already full from other luggage from our trip home.

"Should Dobby start preparing supper?" the elf asked Mother.

She nodded. "Make Draco's favorite tonight. You are excused."

"Dobby thanks you, he does, missus," said the elf as he disappeared.

Mother turned back to me, placing an arm around my shoulder and leading me away from the front door. "It's nice to have my son home. It's been lonely around the mansion. Your father has been extremely busy with his new position."

I nodded. "I heard," I replied. "He's right, you know. As a student, I fear for my own safety when those horrid creatures and objects are in the castle."

She took a seat in one of the sitting room comfortable chairs. As I sat across from her, she replied, "It doesn't surprise me you would agree with your father. You always have taken his side, no matter the issue."

"Father is usually right about things, isn't he?"

Mother nodded, but didn't say yes. "Your Father is a smart man, Draco, but don't make the mistake of thinking he's always right," she said slowly. She crossed her legs stiffly. "No matter. What did you think of Dumbledore?"

"The Old Man?" I questioned, smirking. "I don't quite understand what all the fuss is about him..." I trailed off, hearing voices coming from the direction of Father's study. I gave Mother a questioning look.

"Your Father is conducting a meeting right now," she said, motioning to the door. "He wanted me to send you in straightaway when you arrived."

I turned from her and walked toward the room. As I neared Father's study, I could hear muffled voices within. I recognized the calm, collected, and proud articulation of Father, but I couldn't place the second voice. It was rough, yet in a weak sort of way. They were not arguing, but the tone relayed perfectly this was no conversation of agreement. It wouldn't have caught me off guard to hear raised voices at any moment.

I pushed the door open without knocking. As the wooden entrance opened before me, I noticed Father standing at the fireplace, his arms crossed. He glanced away from his conversation and set his eyes upon me. He slightly grinned, which I knew as a sign that I was allowed to listen to the exchange. I think he did this to teach me how to deal with my inferiors.

"Your personal vendetta against the Headmaster is quite disturbing," said the mystery voice.

I curiously peered over the couch, seeing a red-headed man's face in the flames. Surprisingly, he looked sickeningly similar to Potter's sidekick. Besides the obvious, Arthur Weasely, as I would soon learn, had the same big ears and freckles as his youngest son had. Despite not being the same person as his kin, I couldn't stop the disgust from stirring and transferring to this new face.

Weasley momentarily looked at me, but paid little more attention to me during the remainder of the conversation. I took notice how it was Weasley, not my father, who had subjected himself to the servant-like position of the Floo Network, on his hands and knees, literally bowing to the blond-haired man before him. My Father, I'm sure, would have had it no other way.

Weasley continued, "Dumbledore has efficiently run Hogwarts for years, and it should be..."

"You have misinterpreted my actions," Father said coolly.

I took a seat on the closest chair, noticing both Weasley and Father were wearing the same color robes. It was the hue of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Father had successfully campaigned before school commenced for an open position as a school board director. Weasley campaigned as well and subsequently won the other open seat on the board.

The board consisted of eleven members, which made most of the decisions concerning the school. In recent years with the Old Man as Headmaster, the board had partially relinquished some of the decision-making in favor of trusting Dumbledore. Major decisions however, such as tuition costs and other financial issues, still remained with the board.

"As I have stated numerous times at the monthly board meetings, my concern is for the students, especially my son," said Father. "The magical objects and creatures are considered highly dangerous. I would think you, of all people, would want to protect your family from such things."

"You're twisting my words, Lucius," said Arthur. "I'm not sure what your game is, but as long as I am on the board, my vote will continue to favor Dumbledore."

"You don't have as much pull as you think you do," replied Father..

"And neither do you," shot back Arthur. "You're just as new to this school board as I am."

"I have more influence than you could ever dream," muttered Father. "Tell me, Arthur, your last child will be going to Hogwarts next year. How many children would that make?

"Five," he answered.

"That's expensive enough to destroy even a middle class family," said Father, pouring himself a drink.

"Arthur, surely you're struggling, otherwise you would not have taken this thankless job where you are paid sickles."

"My financial situation is no concern of yours..."

"It is my concern," said Father, sipping his drink and choosing his words carefully. "I would not like to see a fellow board member struggling to make ends meet. What can I do for you, Arthur?"

Weasley hesitated, his muggle-loving mind turning the words over. It was obvious what my father was offering. If Weasley would simply step off his high hippogriff and help my father, my father would gladly help him back. All the needs of the massive red-headed clan would be taken care of. Their school supplies, their debt, their housing costs – everything. And all he had to do was agree with my father when it mattered most.

"Do you honestly think my morals can be bought?" asked Weasley in disbelief. "I know you were a horrible person, but I didn't realize how much. Is this what you're doing with the other board members?"

Father smiled. "That is no concern of yours," he said. "I assure you, Weasley, think about this decision carefully, or you will not be on the school board much longer."

"Are you threatening me?" Weasley shouted.

"This conversation is over. Remember what we talked about," said Father, pointing his wand at the fireplace. In an instance, the flames returned and Weasley's head disappeared into the coals.

His drink had been depleted and he walked to the stand nearest to him. Grasping the half empty bottle of wine to pour into his goblet, he said, "Draco, I assume your recognize the foul stench that is a Weasley by now?"

I laughed, watching the liquid fall from the bottle into his glass, splashing small droplets over the side. "I could smell it from the hallway," I replied.

"That was Arthur Weasley, the father of the whole litter," he replied, placing the bottle back on the stand it was on. "Have you had to deal with his sons this school year so far?"

"Too many times to count," I replied. It was times like these that I always appreciated the most from my father – when he treated me like an equal and actually had a conversation with me. "He is friends with Potter, and the Idiot-Who-Lived isn't exactly my best friend."

Father sipped his drink and watched me carefully. "Yes, I had heard Potter and the Weasley whelp had formed a friendship. It is a shame Potter was not interested in more appropriate company. I suppose it's not surprising. His father was the same way, marrying that mudblood."

While he spoke, he had taken his wand from his pocket and had conjured a parchment. I noticed the Hogwarts seal on it and curiously look at him.

"Since I am now a school board member, I am privileged enough to receive copies of student ranking before they are sent home," he said.