Draco was propped up on one elbow, lazily watching the boy wonders creep out of the Great Hall. He didn't feel a desire to stop them, or a particular urge to alert anyone else to their departure. He simply chuckled as he watched them exit in what they must have imagined was infinite stealth.

It wasn't as if there were any professors to keep them there in the Great Hall or to enforce any prohibition about venturing into the rest of the castle. The students had simply formed a symbiotic relationship with the relative security provided by the Hall, and now were reluctant to leave the only area they felt was safe. Most of them were still clinging to the childish hope that someone would come along and rescue them any day now. All they had to do was sit tight and wait.

Draco knew better. After all, he was raised by a premier Death Eater and sadist extraordinaire, The Dark Lord's right-hand man, Lucius Malfoy. Draco reflected on that name obsessively, always had. He turned it over in his head, relived all the moments anyone had ever said his surname. It was always with either a distasteful sneer or with patronizingly opaque, pandering earnestness. Neither was preferable, although he found the latter to be more useful as it always came from spineless halfwits who were always more than willing to do his dirty work.

Take, for example, Crabbe and Goyle. The great idiots were presently snoring and slobbering upon themselves as they slept, useless for anything but auditory distraction from the maddening quiet of the castle. Draco glared at their hulking figures and turned away, propping himself up on the other elbow now.

Draco was not oblivious to the fact that the other students thought that he and the rest of the Slytherins had been left behind by the Death Eaters to monitor any actions and report back to their parents. This was not the case, he replied snidely to anyone that needled him about it. The awful truth was that neither Draco or any of his housemates had any advance knowledge of the attack, and were equally as frightened as the rest of the students. Not that they would ever admit as much, of course.

Lucius had given Draco no warning whatsoever, not so much as a coded note by owl or a cryptic message sent through Snape. As far as Draco was concerned, Lucius and the other Death Eaters were more than content to sacrifice their children for their Lord if it meant eventual victory. Children were expendable, especially the young ones. Children could always be replaced. Draco knew this and was sick.