OK, my Latin sucks (I only did it for 6 months, but I still got a C at GCSE) the title should be 'never underestimate a blond dragon' - basic rip off of the Hogwarts' motto - if anyone knows the proper Latin, I'd like to know it. Cheers.

Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter, it's owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and whoever else managed to snag the merchandising rights. Any quotations from the book Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire lifted and used without permission.

Author's notes:
1) This will later contain SLASH, as in boy/boy, male/male relationships. If you don't like this, don't read this and don't flame me either (you were warned, after all).
2) Starts from Chapter 9 (The Dark Mark) of Goblet of Fire and continues from there, so SPOILERS for Goblet of Fire.
3) It's told in Draco's POV, and I've taken a few liberties with his magical abilities to fit my plot. Just read on, you'll see...

"Draco! Draco, wake up!"

"Wassat?"

I rolled over, blinking up at my mother. She was hovering over me, pale and panicked. Oh boy, what had Lucius done this time?

"Get up, get dressed and get out," she said.

"Huh?"

"Go and hide in the forest," she said. "Hurry!"

"What's going on?"

"Your father and some of his friends have had a bit too much to drink and - "

"Shit."

"Watch your language," she said, almost absently. I scrambled out of my sleeping bag and grabbed my Muggle clothes: black shirt, jeans and shit kicker boots. If I had to dress up like a Muggle, I might as well look good doing it.

"Where is he?" I asked as I did up the final buckle on my boots.

"I don't know," Mother said, playing with a strand of her hair. "He's so foolish, there must be a hundred Ministry officials here. If he's caught..."

"He won't be," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He's probably doing it because there are so many officials here. He's showing off."

I turned and pulled my coat on; it was one of those long black ones that billow out behind you as you walk.

"What're they doing? Why do I have to go?" I asked.

"They're out of control," she said. "You might be hurt accidentally."

I nodded, adding as an afterthought, "are you coming with me?"

"No," she said. "I'll keep an eye on your father, but I'll feel better if you're out of the way. Safe."

I nodded again, squeezed her shoulder and left, running out of the tent and across the field to the forest. It was pitch black, and we were out in the country so you could see thousands of stars. There weren't any Muggle towns to cloud the view with lights.

An explosion and a flash of green light made me turn. Green light? Avada Kedavra! Oh Christ!

I turned to see what was going on and felt myself freeze. They were levitating Muggles! Oh, boy, that was bad that was. And not only that, they were in full Death Eater regalia. How thick can you get? That's my father, couple of drinks and he loses all sense.

Part of me wanted to stop them, but the other part didn't want to get too close to the mob. Besides, Mother was expecting me to obey her, so I turned on my heel and ran into the woods. Others were joining me, more panicky, screaming. Older kids leading younger ones, people moving in groups; visible fear. I should have fed off it, loved it, a Malfoy enjoys that sort of thing after all. Instead, I just felt sick, the fear hitting me like a solid wall of cold. Time to flick the little switch that turned off my Empath abilities.

This is probably the most annoying thing about my life, being an Empath. I can sense emotions, however weak they may be, and it's enough to drive me nuts at times. Can you imagine what it's like for me at Hogwarts? All those teenage emotions, all going awry, and I have to cope with it as it hits me. I've only recently figured out how to shut this little Sixth Sense of mine off; before that I was driven round the bend by it. I still am at times, when I'm not concentrating.

I leant against a tree that was just on the edge of the forest, looking out over the top of some bushes at the camp site. More flashes of green from the Pretty Little Light Show, and I folded my arms over my chest and tried to look like Bad Arse Draco Malfoy. Riiiiight.

I heard a thud, an "ow" and then Granger's voice rang out. Now, don't get me wrong, Granger's voice is fine until she panics or loses her temper, then she starts hitting notes only dogs can hear.

"What happened?" Granger squealed; my poor ears! "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid - Lumos!"

A beam of light lanced out, falling across Weasley's prone form on the forest floor. Granger had her wand out and Potter was looking down at Weasley. Might as well make my presence known.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," I drawled. I've had to work really hard on that drawl. If you're not careful you sound like a villain in a dodgy Western film, and I do not want to sound like my next words will be 'this town ain't big enough for the both of us'.

I got identical Evils from the Terrific Trio. Weasley told me to "f**k off". Isn't he charming, boys and girls? Please notice how I, Draco Malfoy, dislike swearing...well, most of the time.

"Language, Weasley," I reprimanded him. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

Subtext: drunken Death Eaters + Harry Potter + a Muggle-born Granger = lots of pain and trouble for Granger and Potter. Why didn't I turn the subtext into the text? Because there wasn't any point, they wouldn't believe me if I was actually, shock horror, nice to them, now would they? The fact that I didn't particularly want them to get hurt wouldn't enter their heads. I know I'm malicious and sarcastic, but I am not that evil and twisted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Granger snapped at me, hands on her hips. You'd've thought that she'd recognise a subtext, but noooo.

"Granger, they're after Muggles," I said; could I drop a broader hint? "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air?" Ew, horrible horrible mental picture! "Because if you do, hang around...they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

Subtext: it wouldn't give me a laugh, only my father and his thick as shit friends, so run, run now!

"Hermione's a witch!" Potter damn near snarled at me. He always gets more stressed for his friends than for himself. Sweet.

"Have it your own way, Potter," I said, malicious grin in place. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

They can't spot Mudbloods, but my father knows Granger's one so her chances of escape were slim to none.

"You watch your mouth!" Weasley hollered. Ooh, does he fancy Granger? My Sixth Sense told me so.

"Never mind, Ron," Granger said, grabbing Weasley to stop him stepping towards me. I'm actually glad she did that - Weasley has four inches and at least a stone on me.

A distraction was caused by an explosion from the Pretty Little Light Show. A pretty loud explosion. Lots of screaming greeted it. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Scare easily, don't they?" I mean, come on, it was an explosion, it was far away, why panic? I turned back to Weasley, "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide." Least Mr Weasley has sense! "What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?" More than likely, Mr Weasley has sense and a conscience. It must be nice to have a father you can actually respect.

"Where're your parents?" Potter asked me, giving me a Death Glare. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

Three things: 1) he's fit normally, and even fitter when he gets stressed; 2) my mother would never wear a mask, not just because she isn't a Death Eater but because she's somewhat vain; and 3) did Potter really expect me to answer that? Did he think I was going to say "oh, yes, Potter, please, dob my daddy up"?

"Well...if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?" And if you couldn't see that you're thicker than I thought. Proof you can't have beauty and brains...unless you're me!

"Oh, come on," said Granger, giving me a look which said 'you're no higher up than a slug in my opinion and I'd just love to squish you', "let's go find the others."

I always have to have the last word, so, "keep that big bushy head down, Granger."

"Come on," said Granger. Guess she's self conscious about her hair. Ah well.

I scowled after them. They have such high opinions of me that I feel flattered. Yeah, right. God, why did they have to hate me so much? Oh, I know, because I've made their lives hell for the past three years! Correct!

I'm having a conversation with myself! Could I be more schizophrenic?

Well, who else do I have? Maybe if I'd been in Gryffindor...nah, that'd never happen. Malfoys go into Slytherin, that's the way things are, have been and always will be. No getting out of it. If I have kids, they'll go into Slyther...if I have kids? That's not likely!

In case you couldn't tell from the way I'm lusting after a certain green eyed boy, I have serious doubts as to my sexuality. As in, I'm most likely gay and won't Lucius be happy to hear that? No Malfoy heir for him!

I sighed, sinking to the floor and hugging my knees, making myself as small as possible. It helps that I'm small to begin with: about 5'3" and just under eight stone. Very easy to pick up and carry somewhere, which is not a pleasant thought when I think about some of Lucius' friends and the way they look at me sometimes.

My life's crap, huh? Absolute and complete crap.

I was just thinking this when a green light brighter than any other appeared. It was above me, not in the camp site, and for a moment I was reminded of those Muggle films where aliens appear (there's a cinema near my home and I get bored during the holidays) and everyone turns slowly to stare, like in Independence Day. I got to my feet, peering upwards, as the forest around me erupted in screams and yells of sheer panic.

It was the Dark Mark.

It was coming from where Harry and his friends had gone.

For a second I froze, then I set off at a run. Shitshitshit, the Dark Mark, Voldemort, shitshitshit!

After I'd been running for about half a minute I realised that I was being incredibly stupid. Say it was Voldemort and he had just killed Harry, what was I going to do about it? Fight him? Yeah, that might just make Voldemort kill himself laughing, but that wasn't very likely.

I stopped. I was being an idiot, and I try to avoid that if I can.

I heard voices up ahead and approached, keeping to the shadows and peering out through the trees. There were loads of Ministry officials there, and the Terrific Trio were standing in a little group, scared out of their wits but alive. Phew, big sigh of relief.

The events that unfolded were...interesting. Someone had fired the Dark Mark into the air, the Trio didn't know who. A house elf was accused, a house elf that belongs to Bartemius Crouch Sr of all people. Old Barty promptly flipped his lid and I think he was dangerously close to bitch slapping Amos Diggory, which, though it would have amused me, wouldn't do much for his reputation, though admittedly his reputation isn't 100% clean after what his son did years ago. Poor Longbottom...

Poor Longbottom? I've been lusting after Potter too long, I'm even starting to pick up that weird thing called 'compassion', which I shouldn't really possess. 'Compassionate' and 'Malfoy' do not belong in the same sentence. The words that belong in the same sentence as 'Malfoy' are 'evil', 'scheming', 'evil', 'twisted', 'evil', 'I'd like to kill that bastard' and 'evil'. I've got a lot to live up to, I've only just reached the level of 'he's an evil, malicious, sarcastic, arrogant prat'; Lucius must be so disappointed in me.

This doesn't have much relevance to what's going on, does it? Well, it does: Lucius will expect me to be spying for him and he's going to have a field day with this.

I turned back, heading for the camp site, the hysteria of my mother and the calm questions from Lucius. Only, when I got back, it was like I'd walked into a parallel universe or something: Lucius was near hysterical and Mother was the calm one. O-kaaaaaaaay.

"Draco, where have you been?" Mother asked me as she poured Lucius a brandy. Was that sensible? Then again, maybe the shock had sobered him up completely; he'd obviously had a big shock and than can sober up anyone. And now he needed brandy to him help recover from the sobering shock. Ah, confusion.

"In the forest, like you told me," I replied, taking my coat off and draping it over a chair. I sat down and pulled my boots off, standing them up beside my chair. I felt like throwing them into my room, but knew Mother wouldn't approve because she has this weird thing with tidiness.

"Did you see him?" Lucius demanded, knocking back the brandy. Oh dear.

"Him who?"

"The Dark Lord," Lucius hissed, as if afraid of the name. Would somebody please cue the music for The Twilight Zone?

"No," I said. "Why would he be there?"

"Well, who fired the Dark Mark?"

"I don't know," I said, honestly. "A house elf called Winky was accused, but I somehow can't see a house elf firing the Dark Mark."

"Then it was him," Lucius said, his hand shaking as he cradled the shot glass. "He's back."

"Aren't you happy?" I said. You'd think he would be. I always imagined my father greeting the news of Voldemort's return with a 'woo-hoo, let's party, kill a few Muggles while we're at it'. Apparently not though.

"Happy? Why would I be happy? He's going to hurt me!"

"Why?"

"Because I abandoned him," Lucius muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "I should have tried to help him, but I didn't. I should have looked for him, but I didn't. I should have...should have...bloody James Potter, making my life hell as always."

I blinked. If my knowledge of Who's Who in the wizarding world is correct, James Potter is Harry's father and he was at school with my father. Small world, isn't it? But, what did he have to do with it? Shouldn't it be Harry Lucius hates? After all, Harry caused Voldemort's downfall, surely he'd be more hated than his father. Unless...well, what if Voldemort had to kill James and Harry, but he couldn't kill Harry. Maybe it's something about James that made Voldemort want to kill the Potters, so James would be to blame for Voldemort going there in the first place, therefore Lucius would blame James. Hmm, something to ponder over, if I can make it into a more coherent line of argument.

"Draco?" Mother waved her hand in front of my eyes, and I realised I'd been staring into space. "I think you should go back to bed, get some sleep."

"OK," I said. She kissed me on the cheek and gave me a brief hug, which was surprising. I guess she was glad that I'm alive.

My last glimpse of my parents before I shut the door to my room was of Mother leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Lucius knocked back some more brandy then went looking in the drinks' cabinet for something. I think I heard him mutter "vodka" but I was too tired to hear properly. For once, I wanted to go to bed, and I just dropped onto the covers and fell asleep.

~~~~~

The rest of the holidays were Hell. My holidays are never wonderful, what with Mother having mini nervous break downs as Lucius locks himself away in his study and messes with Dark Arts stuff and plots world domination. At least, that's what I figure he's doing. For all I know, he could lead an interesting double life as a cross dresser or something, but I doubt it.

What's scary is that I'd actually prefer it if my father called himself Sheila at the weekends than if he was doing Dark Magic. It would be creepy, it would be grotesque and it would mean that he was a huge hypocrite, but at least I wouldn't permanently worry that Voldemort was going to turn up for tea and biscuits and a little chat about The Top 50 Ways To Kill Harry Potter one day.

Anyway, these holidays were a special species of torment. I'd thought I'd seen Hell before, but now I've discovered that that was just purgatory. I am now in Hell and I want out, right now.

Usually, I'd escape to the local Muggle town. Bet that's a difficult image for you to come to terms with, huh? Draco Malfoy in a Muggle town and, oh, look, he isn't killing and maiming. No, he's going in the shops and to the cinema and, oh, is that a Muggle boy he's talking to? I believe it is.

The Muggle boy? Sam, he's a friend. He thinks I go to a posh boarding school like Eton, he doesn't know about Hogwarts (natch) and he's always willing to hang out with me during the holidays. He's, well, he's gay and the first person I ever kissed, though I don't like him as much as I like Harry and he knows it. I hope Lucius never finds out that Sam and I got in with each other; he thinks I'm just friends with him because I'm spying, doing reconnaissance, a getting-to-know-thy-enemy thing if you will. Well, I do know the enemy, just a bit more intimately than he'd like. I wonder what he'd find worse: that I'm gay, that I spent a good part of one afternoon rolling about on a settee with my tongue down a Muggle boy's throat or that I'm in love with Harry Potter. I think I'll tell him in that order, watch as his fury rises and he eventually explodes like a rocket and goes through the roof, hopefully to end up flying into the sun and never returning. It would certainly make my life easier.

This holiday, however, I haven't been able to leave the house, let alone visit the town or Sam. Lucius is going mad, wandering around the house, checking the doors and windows. I think he thinks Voldemort's back and out to get him. He evidently thinks that Mother and I are on Voldie's hit list because we're not allowed out of the house. Or maybe he's afraid that we'll meet Voldie and hand Lucius over to him. I wouldn't do that: I hate Lucius and sometimes I want to kick his head in, but he is my father and handing him over to a pissed off Voldemort is not something I'd ever do.

So, I've been spending my days in my room. I have a good collection of books - wizarding and Muggle - and, horror of horrors, homework to do. I swear, the teachers don't understand the meaning of the word 'holiday' but I guess all students feel like that, whichever school they go to. It's a universal thing: teachers are evil and students must put up with it. But some day, there will be a revolution! Can you hear the students sing, singing a song of angry...students, it is the music of a people who will not be slaves to books again!

And now I'm mangling Les Miserables. Mother wouldn't be happy, she loves that musical. See, Muggle culture in the Malfoy home! Wow.

Sigh. My life sucks. But, I go back to Hogwarts tomorrow, which is great! I'll finally be free! Well, as free as I can be at Hogwarts. And I'll get to see Harry again! This year I'll tell him how I feel...yeah, right, I made that promise last year and what did I do? Tried to get Hagrid - whom Harry loves like a, well, not a surrogate father - but an uncle at least, sacked and grassed Harry up to Snape, nearly resulting in his expulsion. I shouldn't've done that, I know, but he threw mud at me! And now I sound like a whiny four-year-old...

How did I realise I love Harry? Well, it was when I was getting in with Sam, actually. He's two years older than me, so he was fifteen and I was thirteen and if you think that's too young for a proper first kiss then tough. I've heard of people losing their virginity at twelve...hell, I've heard of girls becoming mothers at twelve, which is scary. And it was just a kiss, between me and Sam, he didn't try to take it further. Yet, even so, I realised then that I liked Harry more than I liked Sam, and that I'd much rather I was with Harry than Sam. I told him this and he understood: he actually felt the same about another boy, but he liked me too and wanted to 'give it a go' as he put it. I would have been offended if I hadn't felt the same.

So, I've known for a year that I fancy Harry Potter, and, in my weird teenage way, I think I love him, as much as a fourteen-year-old boy can love anyone, but how am I going to tell him? And how am I going to cope this year, if Voldemort's back?

Reviews, please?