Standard Author's Note: I used to be a closet Draco fan, but I have revealed myself to the world (…ffn world) with this story! And, btw for all those of you who for some un-Godly reason haven't gone to see the second movie…amazingness!

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but assuming I did, I'd be kicking out those books a-heck-of-a-lot faster than JK Rowling is…but patience is a virtue, I suppose. I shall just wait and see…

The one good thing I seem to do best is stay out of Father's way. Another, possibly, is holding back most comments I'd normally spit out when Father's friends are over on terms of…business…and such was the case on that dull, dreary, grey afternoon. Nott and Avery were over again on business – something urgent about God-knows-what, and I shunted myself aside, practically slamming into the cold stone wall as the two rushed past me towards Father's study. I am almost positive I re-bruised my shoulder in attempt to get out of their way.

I waited for the ritualistic slamming of the door before I cautiously moved away from the wall and down the hall. Perhaps I was slowly making my way to the library, or perhaps subconsciously my curiosity took over rational thought, but I couldn't help but…eavesdrop on the heated discussion coming from within the confines of the study. I only caught louder snatches of the dialogue that was exchanged between the three of them, but that which I missed I did my best to guess the fill-in-the-blanks.

"…spy work…against Dumbledore…the Dark Mark still burns, Lucius…we act now…what of Snape…?"

Nott was definitely worried about something, someone, who was spying against Dumbledore...perhaps it wasn't a spy of his own. Avery, strangely, seemed disgruntled as well.

"We should act quickly…he's right…good of the inner circle…Order of the Phoenix is re-uniting…Snape…returned…"

The mention of Professor Snape several times truly worried me. I was on quite close term with Prof. Snape…better terms than Father generally approved of…I suppose this time I should have a part to play in their scheme, though I did not wish to have one.

I could also hear Father, he was agreeing and disagreeing, but not ever very much more than random yes(es), no(s), and you're absolutely right(s).

But the Order of the Phoenix? I couldn't place my finger atop it, but it sounded vaguely familiar, as if I'd heard it somewhere before, though I knew almost certainly I had not. More troublesome than it should have been, something wouldn't let me let go of it…it was like a book of some sort that I kept picking up.

Father had always been something less than enthralled that I was on such good terms with a former Death Eater that had abandoned the Dark Lord, yet I assumed this time Father would use this…friendship (of a sort) to his advantage.

The rushed way Avery was whisper-shouting at Nott and Father, I assumed their pans had hit a snag of some minor sort, Of course, minor snags had proved almost fatal in the years passed, and apparently the conversation had turned to one of less friendly niceties.

I quickly pressed my ear to the door to listen, and what I heard was a loud, booming "Draco!"

This was one of Father's random callings. It was strange for me to hear Father scream for me – the norm was quite opposite. His semi-hoarse summon was a far cry from a timid house elf begging me to follow it to the study, or something of the like.

I re-composed myself and turned the knob to step into the drawing room. I ritualistically glanced at Father's framed Bible verse, and then walked forward to the group of three men gathered near a desk.

"Father?" I confidently spoke my question – directing it more towards the entire group as a whole, rather than Father himself.

"Draco – my boy…problems…complications…seem to have risen within some of the inner working of our plans…" and Avery, who had stepped in, was off on his conversation spree. Once he had finished, I turned toward the spot Father and Nott were standing, to deliver him a message I'd received earlier.

"Father," I said again.

"Ye…Draco?" he slowly acknowledged me, his tone cool and almost casual.

"Mother asked me to inform you that tomorrow is September first."

"And…?"

"She purchased my school things some weeks earlier…I will need a ride to the Express tomorrow."

"Very well...I shall speak with you later. Go and gather your things for tomorrow, Draco."

Crabbe and Goyle had effortlessly, and probably unknowingly, reserved the compartment that had been our "regular" since we had been first years aboard the Hogwarts Express. As one of the train baggage clerks busied himself with my luggage, I made my way to the mid-section of the train.

As I slid the compartment door open and shut, Crabbe and Goyle stood up, and it wasn't until I seated myself that they returned to their sprawled positions in the seats across from me.

I swear it on the House of Slytherin…they never cease to scare the bloody hell out of me. I was about to comment when an unusual thing happened. The compartment door slid open once more, and standing before three fifth years, was a small and scrawny first year who seemed scared to death. Good. I looked him over a second…definitely Ravenclaw material.

I raised one weary eyebrow at him in disbelief, and he turned off like a shot, running down the train; his best idea was to get as far away from our compartment as possible…good little Ravenclaw…