That night, after evening activities, Draco walked tiredly up to his room, finding it by trial and error. He entered the room, and without doing anything but taking off his boots and outer robes, went to bed. He expected to be out like a light, but sleep didn't come. He wondered what was keeping him awake, and then realized he needed to take off the choker He didn't want the delicate Snitch broken as he knew it would be by his sleepless tossing and turning. He got up, exasperated, and walked to the mirror. Casting a small lighting spell, he searched for the clasp in his reflection. He couldn't find it. He rubbed his eyes and tried again. Still no fastener. He moved his fingers slowly and completely around the smooth length of the chain, but only encountered the obstacle of the miniature Snitch.

Draco panicked. Was the necklace slowly getting tighter, and would finally reach the point of strangulation? Scared by this thought, he tried frantically to pull the charm from his throat, but to no avail. It didn't matter what he did, he couldn't break the necklace apart. It was indestructible.

Finally, having worn out his terror over the unbreakable chain, he once again let it settle into the hollow of his neck. He had to admit that the small choker had its appeal when around his throat. The metal was brighter and darker than his skin, even the silver.

Satisfied that the necklace wasn't going to strangle him in his sleep, he went back to be. This time, though, sleep came instantaneously, and Draco was no longer aware of the world.

There she was, pulsating happiness. In her outstretched hand was a tiny golden broom hanging on a silver band. Draco nodded. He had a necklace like that. Where did you get it? The girl wondered. From a friend. No, wait; it had been a gift from someone he didn't know. The girl pointed at herself. You gave it to me? The girl agreed vigorously, and was no longer faceless. Why? He asked. Because I like you.

Draco woke on his own this time, feeling good from the pleasant dream. What was it about? Oh, yeah. That girl. He had finally seen her face, but in the confusion upon his waking, Draco had forgotten who she was. The face was a familiar one, he was sure. Maybe he would think of it later.

Since it was still early, Draco got dressed and sat down in the enclave with a piece of parchment and a quill pen.

"Dear Father," he began,

"I am here at Beauxbatons, and it is right before breakfast. Thank you for the Galleons, and I shall spend them wisely.

"I was wanting to ask, though, if we had any respectable relatives here that I could visit in my spare time. You always told me that I should know everything I could about our heritage, and maybe a view from across the Channel would be a good thing. Your son, Draco"

He tied the note around his owl, Flighter's, leg, and sent him off. Since others in the room were beginning to stir, he reached for a book. "How to Interpret Dreams." That one sounded silly, not to mention useless. Here, much better. "Top Ten Quidditch Plays and How to Achieve Them." That should be good.

Four plays and thirty minutes later, the exchange students went downstairs for breakfast. It seemed as though every student that had left had returned overnight, and the dining hall was overflowing. Everyone was eating, and the hall was filled with the sounds of French voices and laughter.

The food was delicious, a Lucullen delight. Omelettes, croissants, and café du lait garnished the table. The hot coffee warmed Draco up, warmth that filled him to the brim. He wasn't hungry, but ate so he wouldn't be ravenous later. He didn't talk to anyone, but they assumed that it was because it was early, and he was not a morning bird. This was fine by him, as he didn't particularly want conversation at that moment. He wanted to think about the dream. Maybe he should have read that book about interpreting them. Before he could think about going back and getting that book, his thoughts were interrupted.

This morning, classes will be postponed as we are going to sort our new arrivals. You all went through the sorting, and know it wasn't as easy as it looked. So don't mock our tryouts, and play fairly. The headmistress, Madame Maxime announced. Come along now, children, and you shall see what the trial is.

The scholars followed the headmistress. She led them outside and to a glass atrium filled with plants and lounge chairs. Please line up according to height, and stand perfectly still. They did, and Draco was at the front of the line, followed by Potter.

"Don't break line and run, Potter. We wouldn't want the competition to think we're scaredy-cats, would we?" Draco mocked under his breath.

"Don't be such a smartass, Malfoy. Why would I run? It's only cowards like you and your father that can't stay loyal to their side," he snarled back. "Courage runs in my blood. Haven't you heard? I'm in Gryffindor, so back off."

Just as he finished his sentence, a spell was cast. They were lifted off of their feet, and saw each other no more. Draco found himself deposited in a blank chamber. The only thing in the room besides him was a small sheet of paper. He slowly made his way towards it, testing each step for booby traps before he put his food solidly down. When he finally reached the document, he found nothing on it but three words in bottle green ink.

"How to escape?"

I don't know, he told himself but looked for a route out anyways. He turned around, expecting to see nothing, but witnessed a broomstick appearing before his eyes. It was an old one, beat up and over used. He walked towards it, confident that no booby trap would take him away. He straddled it, and tried to take off. No luck. He tried harder. Why wasn't the broom working? Draco threw it down in disgust. He stared at it lying on the dirt floor. Did he see something underneath the dirt? Yes, a sliver of wood was showing through. He hurriedly picked it up, and started sweeping, something he hadn't ever done before. It was hard for him to hold the broom so as to be able to sweep. But he managed it, and uncovered the door. He pulled it up by the handle, and looked down. All he could see was a ladder leading down into nothingness. He dropped a button he pulled from his robe down the well. No sound followed its plummet to the bottom. Not wanting to, but seeing no other escape, he started down the ladder.