Ron was right when he said that his parents were going to be angry at him for skipping class. The next day at lunch, since his parents couldn't punish him in person, he received a howler.
A moan escaped the red haired boys mouth as he stared down at the red envelope in his hand. The owl, Errol, that had delivered it was now resting in a bowl of potato chips. "I told you." He showed his black haired friend. "I'm just lucky that Hogwarts doesn't allow visitors." Ron practically moaned.
"It can't be that bad, Ron." Draven eyed the red object with interest. He had only seen a howler once before and that was when Lucius received one on behalf of the boys behavior in the local town of Griffins Claw. Their idea of fun cost that village hundred of knuts to repair and the howler was from a shoppe keeper that they put out of business during their spree of good humored mischief. It was loud and the angry voice contained within the howler had echoed through the halls of Malfoy Manor for a good ten minutes but it wasn't life threatening. "Go on then, open it." He prodded his friend into action. "It can only get worse if you wait." He warned having heard something of the sort from one of his friends, Theodore Nott.
Nodding, Ron delicately slipped a fingernail under the wax seal and broke it. The booming voice of Molly Weasley, Ron's mother, caused the terrified boy to drop the envelope onto the table. It sat motionless for a heart beat before taking the shape of a mouth and floated up to eye level with the shaking red head.
"RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU SKIP CLASS! AND ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL TO BOOT! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? WHAT KIND OF AN EXAMPLE ARE YOU SETTING FOR GINNY? FOR SHAME ON YOU! YOUR FATHER ABOUT SWALLOWED HIS TONGUE WHEN HE GOT THE NEWS! IF YOU PUT SO MUCH AS A TOE OUT OF LINE WE WILL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!" The howler was silent for a second before continuing but in a much more friendlier tone. "OH AND CONGRATULATIONS ON MAKING GRYFFINDOR DEAR." It then ripped itself up and ended up in a small pile of confetti on the table top.
Draven swallowed. Ron's mother sounded fierce. He glanced at his friend who was now the same color as his hair. A sheepish smile made its way onto his face. "Well now, that wasn't so bad." And he had no doubt in his mind that it could have been much worse than it was.
"Right, mate." Was all Ron could say as he stared at the pile of confetti that had just finished screaming at him. He could feel the eyes of the entire great hall on him and wished that the floor would swallow him. He could feel the heat of his blush in his ears and knew that his face, nay head, now matched his hair.
Glancing around, Draven noticed every table, except Slytherin, was staring at his embarrassed friend. Frowning, he shot a disgusted look at everyone. "What are you all looking at? Hm? I bet loads of you have seen a howler before so it isn't something too fantastic to look at." He held every pair of eyes he could see until they looked away, until finally lunch resumed as if nothing had happened. By this time Draven was seething with barely contained anger towards the school populace for making a big deal out of nothing and embarrassing his friend more than needed to be. But his anger was cut short when a pain, as excoriating as a blade to the skull, ripped though his head or forehead to be exact. A gasp of surprise mixed with pain escaped from his lips as he blindly stumbled to his feet and raced out of the great hall. Never noticing that he was followed.
Draco, who had been snickering with his fellow Slytherins over the embarrassment of Weasley, watched with concern as Draven stumbled out of the great hall. His hearing, slightly better than most, detected the pain laced gasp that came from the younger boy before his abrupt departure. Frowning, he grabbed his dragonhide bag from the bench beside him, stood, and walked over to the Gryffindor table where he gathered Draven's bag as well, before he exited in search of his friend. Once the doors closed and blocked out the noise of lunch, Draco was able to concentrate on where the black haired boy might have gone. Using his instincts and knowledge of the other boy, he searched for the first empty class room on the floor. He wasn't disappointed. "What's wrong, Draven?" He quietly asked as he stepped inside and closed the door. He brushed a cobweb from his face as he made his way across the dusty floor and towards the equally dusty desks in the corner. It was clear that this room hadn't been used in sometime.
Draven looked up from where his head was resting in his hands and with tear filled eyes, looked at his friend, cousin and surrogate brother. "Father is angry." He whispered. It was a known fact within the Malfoy family that young Draven shared a unique link with the Dark Lord and that link sometimes caused the boy pain.
"He's angry? At you?" Draco sunk to the floor, in front of the desks, beside the younger boy, having dropped both school bags at the door.
"No, he isn't angry at me." Came the pain filled whisper. A pale hand came up and rubbed over the spot where the famous scar once marred his flesh. It was no longer there, removed by Voldemort himself, he being the only one who could remove it. "He..." Draven hesitated. "Something happened." Eyes fluttered closed as he tried to make sense of the feelings and images he was receiving through the link. "Azkaban." He whispered. "Aurors raided the houses of twenty new death eaters. Three were killed and seventeen were sentenced to Azkaban for having the dark mark." The pain was beginning to fade so Draven was able to focus more clearly. "Father is sure, now more than ever, that there is a spy within the inner circle. No one else was told of these new...recruits. And that is why he is angry. Someone he trusts is betraying him." He looked over at his silent friend. "He has suspected, for quiet some time, that there was a spy amongst his faithful followers. The Ministry and Dumbledore's nosey featherheads seem to know much more than they should." His eyes darted around the room before he removed his wand and muttered a privacy charm. "There aren't many people that would betray him and even fewer that are apart of the inner circle." He pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache settled just behind his eyes.
"A spy within the inner circle? That's..." Draco stared off into space. A spy that close to the dark lord was trouble. He or she could easily ruin all their plans and send a great many of them to rot in Azkaban. "Is there anything we can do?"
"Yes, we can present the traitorous scorpion to my father, on a platter. We can rid ourselves of this thorn before we are pricked and left to bleed to death. You have to trust me, Draco. From here on in you have to put all your faith in me, can you do that?" Draven questioned, seriously.
Draco was silent for a moment. "I can and I do. I trust you with my life, as it should be." He inclined his head slightly."You know who it is, don't you?"
"I have an idea but I pray that I am wrong for if I am right, then we both have been used." Draven scowled in annoyance. He felt much older than his eleven years. "And I bloody hate to be used!" His small fist hit the stone floor with such force that it echoed throughout the silent room.