A/n: Thanks to my beta JDeppIsMyLovely!


The Forbidden Forest was a dreary place. Draco was quite upset that he had to accompany the giant oaf and Potter's muck luck crew in for a detention he clearly didn't deserve! He merely reported the misdeeds of the three and couldn't believe he was now suffering for his good deed. It was stupid.

He sulked behind the others and that barbaric dog as they wandered into the forest, grumbling the entire way. The closest one to him was the Weasel, and he almost wished it was Granger, who was at least tolerable to talk to considering that she could actually hold a conversation. He never knew what Weasley was trying to say.

Oh his father was so going to hear about this! How dare they drag him through the woods? He didn't even go through the woods around his home! The woods were dirty, and dark, and dirty. He despised everyone at that moment.

If Snape had found them instead, he wouldn't be having this problem. He'd be back in his common room gloating about how awesome he was because he got Potter, Weasley and Granger all in trouble at once! Yes, that would've made tonight so much better.

Too bad those idiots seemed to be enjoying the ridiculous walk! How anyone enjoyed trekking through the woods for no apparent reason was beyond him. He'd rather clean the boards at school than deal with the blasted half-giant. Much like Dumbledore, his father saw the man as nothing more than a nuisance and blemish on the school, which would run so much more smoothly if his father were in charge. But alas, people never understood when they saw pure genius and mistook it as something evil, or at least that's what his father told him.

And his father hated Hagrid, so he hated Hagrid. End of story. Hopefully if he stayed back far enough though he could avoid doing anything and get away with this trip easy, letting the Gryffindor's do all the meaningless work. He really liked that idea.

At one point they halted, and began to look for whatever they were out there for, Draco couldn't even remember. He hung around the edges of the group, still irritated with the situation. What he wouldn't give to be back in his bed already.

The oaf decided to split them up of all things soon after, pairing him with bloody Granger while the oaf, Potter and Weasley went one direction and they got a cowardly dog. The entire situation was stupid, and he would have so many things to report after this that his father would surely get the man fired. Well, that was something to look forward to at least.

"My father will hear about this," he grumbled, walking slightly ahead of the brunette as the group separated. The dog trotted in front of him, and together the three took the leftmost path in the forest, directly beside the one the others took. The paths were supposed to meet up again a bit down the way, and he wondered if the oaf actually knew what he was doing.

"Your father hears about everything!" she snapped, hugging her cloak close to her. "Why don't you do something for yourself?"

The blonde scoffed, insulted that she was even asking. "I don't have the power to get people fired yet, but my father does. Soon enough I will, in the next few years here I'm going to get everyone fired that's useless. Father says all Malfoys have that ability."

"Yes," she said bitterly, "They also have enlarged egos."

He spun around, nearly slamming the lantern into her face. "At least I have an ego! You're so shy and ugly that you don't have any confidence. You're a Gryffindor nerd, and that's all you'll ever be Granger because no one in the magical world hires people like you."

"What are you saying?" she snapped, wondering what he was talking about. Was she that different? She knew that most people had magical parents, but she wasn't the only one like that, was she?

"People like you don't belong in the world of magic," he said, raising his chin. "We Purebloods are above you, and you'll always rank lower! No one hires people like you."

Hermione frowned, standing as tall as she could. "And what's wrong with people like me, Malfoy? I'm a student just like you! Actually, I'm better. I'm in Gryffindor."

"Slytherin is far better," he snapped, rolling his eyes as though it was obvious. "They only let in Purebloods."

"Oh yeah? Well what am I then?"

He chuckled at that, but remembered his father's warning to not start using those rude words until an established standpoint with Potter could be created, whatever that means. "Your bloods dirty."

"No it's not. It's red like everyone else's."

Draco scoffed, seemingly entertained by that theory. "Oh, keep thinking that Granger. Keep thinking that."

"It is Malfoy, you can't have different colored blood. It doesn't work."

"You really don't know anything."

"I'm serious! Blood is red for every person, even slimy snakes like you. Or blood is the same-"

"Don't say that!" he cried, tightening his hands. "Don't ever, ever compare our blood, got it, Granger. We are not the same people, or practically the same race! Your blood is dirty understand? No one wants someone with dirty blood."

"It's the same," she groaned, moving to walk ahead of him in hopes that they could proceed. Luckily he decided to start walking too, and not two feet ahead they caught sight of Fang again. Their path had more tree branches up above than the path Harry and Ron took, so the moonlight didn't help as much. "It will always be the same."

"Granger, keep lying to yourself. Our blood will never be the same. I will always be a Pureblood, and you will not be."

Hermione spun around, pointing a finger at the boy. "Fine! I wouldn't want to be a Pureblood! Not if they are all like you!"

"It's an honor to be a Pureblood you stupid girl! You'll never know the honor."

Her eyes darkened, and she took a step back. "Is that something else your father told you?"

"Well of course! My father doesn't lie."

"Your father sounds rude," she replied, crossing her arms. "He doesn't like Hagrid or Dumbledore according to you, or me, or Harry, or anything! Why would you want to listen to him? Why would you want to be like him? I don't get you Malfoy, it seems like you want to follow the wrong type of person."

Briefly, he found himself at a loss for words. His father was a symbol of power, respected and feared by many. How could she even question why he would want to be like him!? In Draco's opinion, everyone should want to be like Lucius Malfoy; he's amazing.

But then, he did hurt him sometimes, and he wasn't always nice. Sometimes, Draco did worry about his mother and father a bit. In the big empty Manor where he lived with them he had his own wing and was not expected to come and find them at night unless someone broke in. His father demanded this, and Draco wouldn't want to disappoint his father by breaking the rules.

One night though, he desperately needed to find his parents. He was playing in his room at the age of nine and tried doing a simple spell one of his nannies was teaching him, which involved moving an object. Knowing that he was a Malfoy, he assumed that he could do it easy and decided that he was going to move a pillow in front of him as he jumped off the bed so he could land there, even throwing in a cool twist to impress all of his invisible fans. Well he did attempt this, but all did not go according to plan. He found out that day that magic took some practice and hard work, and instead of moving the pillow in front of him he got concerned halfway through his turn, stopped midair in the turn on his side to try and get the pillow to move, and ended up falling on his arm. He heard a snap and cried out, his little voice echoing throughout the bedroom, but his parents would be too far away to hear anything. He cried for a long time like a baby before finally deciding that he should just go and find his parents, telling them that an intruder broke in or some such nonsense to avoid getting into trouble.

It hurt to move the arm at all but he left his room anyway, wand in hand so he could tell his father that he at least tried to defend himself. He wiped at the tears as he walked, hoping his face would be dry once he got there. If his father saw that he had been crying he would be most disappointed.

When he got to his parents wing, he took the familiar hallway that way and headed towards their room. About two doors down however, he stopped, frozen in fear. He could hear his mother screaming.

"Stop! I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. Please!"

It sounded pained and fearful, and afraid of what he would encounter the child flattened himself against the wall, listening to several more screams before everything went silent and his mother stopped screaming. His little heart froze. Was she alright? Why wasn't his father helping her? Was there an intruder?

Despite how bratty Draco could be, despite the searing pain in his little arm he turned around and hobbled back to his room, whimpering at the pain as he went. Oh, it hurt, but what could he do? Someone was hurting his mother, someone real, not a make-believe intruder like Draco had been prepared to tell them. He would leave his father to deal with the problem, and in the morning when all the danger was gone he would tell his nanny about his arm and she would help him right away. But his parents were busy, and he didn't want to disturb them just to be yelled at while Lucius was busy.

It would turn out to be a broken arm, one which would have to be set painfully back into place since Draco didn't seek help immediately. He would receive a scar when he went to St. Mungo's for struggling when they gave him a shot and tearing the skin, a scar that would later be covered by the Dark Mark, and removed years later by a potion created by Hermione Granger, the girl he was currently arguing with.

His father gave him a scolding for the incident, declaring that he would know if there was an intruder. And during the summer between first and second year Draco would understand why his mother occasionally screamed at night, and begin to see a different side of Lucius.

"My father is important," he snapped, coming back in the present. Lost down memory lane he could see that Granger was wondering about him, giving him a peculiar look at that point. She had to know he was acting weird since he used an odd word to respond about his bloody father. "People respect him. I want to be respected."

"But do you want to be all rude and full of hate too?" she asked, trying to figure out just what kind of person Lucius was. At that point she couldn't tell what kind of message he was trying to send.

"I'll be whatever my father is!" he growled, leaning closer to her in the light of the lantern. "Which is more than you will ever be."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, completely against just sitting there and listening to him bad-mouth her again, when an odd shadowy form began to appear behind Malfoy. Losing her train of thought, she tried to look past him and figure out what it was, or if it was simply her mind playing tricks on her in the dark. She drew Malfoy's attention at that too and he peered over his shoulder as well.

A cloaked presence was stepping from the shadows, just a bit down the path from them. Hermione felt her mouth go dry at the sight, fear swallowing her whole. Malfoy didn't seem to take the appearance much better either, as she could see the lantern slightly shaking in his grip. It drew closer and the two of them stumbled backwards, tripping over each other. Their eyes were huge, and perhaps if they looked at one another's faces they might find it comical.

The creature on the other hand had eyes only for the tuft of blonde hair before him. He knew only one family that had hair such a color, one group that had been loyal to him since the start, and he assumed this could only be Lucius Malfoy's son. As to who the girl was, he didn't know or care at the time. After being chased away from Potter by centaur, he wasn't in the mood to tolerate other people.

He didn't preferably kill the Malfoy child though, not when the boy might make a fine follower in several years. The girl seemed unimportant, and deciding that the pair were not worth his time to bother with just then, the cloaked form of a regenerating Voldemort disappeared back into the trees on the other side of the path, unbeknownst to him how much trouble he might've saved himself in the coming years had he killed the girl that night.

Once the shadow was gone, the children glanced at one another, horror stricken, before screaming and running down the path the opposite way, Fang having already taken his leave. Not thirty feet ahead they path merged back with Harry and Ron's, and the children met up again.

Things in the Forbidden Forest could be very scary to a little kid, after all.


A/n: Yup, a past chapter. Thoughts? I thought it was fun to write!