"Mr. Malfoy, we'd like to see you for a moment outside."
Two big, burly men looked menacingly down at him, and as they'd chosen dinner to come fetch him, they didn't go unnoticed. Young Mr. Malfoy had seen enough of his father's dealings to know that he'd better obey them, but he'd also learned it would be best not to let them have full control.
"I'm sorry; I'm a bit busy at the moment." Malfoy said, and returned to his meal.
"I don't think you understand. We'd like a word with you outside, now." The taller man repeated.
"And I don't think you understand," Malfoy returned, "As you can see, I'm in the middle of my supper. You can go tell 'we', or whoever it is that sent you, that if he wants a word with me, he can wait until I've finished my dinner."
The boy then returned to his meal, ignoring the men and acting as though nothing had happened, restarting the conversation that had been interrupted. Most of his classmates, however, Slytherins, Gryffindors, and all others, were still staring at the two men and Malfoy. The were all astounded, but for the most part in awe of how well he handled it, for, just as he thought, the two men had now backed off and were waiting silently behind him for him to finish his meal.
Although Malfoy appeared not to notice or care of the two men, his mind was in a fury.
"Who would have sent them?" he wondered, almost worried, mostly curious, "Not my father, surely, he would have ordered me home plain enough, for I have no choice in those matters. It wouldn't be any of father's silly death eaters, for they know to just send their orders through father.
"Unless," he thought suddenly, "Another death eater wished to see me without my father's knowledge? No, that would infuriate father, and they know not to do that."
"What do you think, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked him, startling him out of his thoughts.
"I agree, of course," he responded, wondering what he was agreeing to.
"I knew you would!" she exclaimed, and Draco drifted back into his thoughts.
"Could it possibly be someone from the ministry, asking about either my or my father's whereabouts? No, they would've flashed a badge and dragged me away then. Hmm…." He slowly focused slowly on the scene, looking around at everyone. "Well, I suppose I'll find out soon enough," he thought, and returned to his table's conversation.
As soon as he had finished his meal, before Dumbledore even had time to disappear the food from the golden plates, the two men stepped forward and roughly lifted Malfoy out of his seat. They began toward the door, roughly dragging him.
"Ah-," he stopped them, "I can walk for myself, thank you very much." He said, and broke free of their grip. This behavior may cause him to treat him more roughly physically that evening, he knew, but if ever again he were to meet these men on the street, they would have a certain respect for him. These men were smart men, he knew, not brainless oafs as more ignorant wizards might think.
He walked two steps ahead of the men, but still following them, the whole way in silence. Any doubts or fears he had were not apparent. He walked briskly, totally business-like, as if he were expecting this or went through it daily.
"There is no denying the elegance or dignity young Mr. Malfoy carries himself with," a passerby noted.
After much length, they came to a door.
"In here, Mr. Malfoy," one of the men directed.
For a moment, Draco Malfoy just stood in the hall, his head held high and proud, glaring at the men for daring to order him anywhere. Then he stepped inside, followed by the two men, who shut the door behind them.
Draco then discovered who it was who had called him, and a look of disgust crossed his face.
"You!" he spat, almost accusingly.