Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to JK Rowling, of course. I only own the plot.

the scarlet ribbon

The screech of hundreds of owls filled the Great Hall as the windows welcomed the routine morning post. A particularly handsome grey and white eagle owl soared into the Hall without flying all over like some of the other owls but sped straight towards the Slytherin table. A piece of rolled-up parchment fell from it's claws and onto the lap of the Head Boy.

Draco raised any eyebrow. He recognised the owl as Fidweten, one of the family messenger owls. He stared at the parchment, at the bright red ribbon securing it with a neat little bow. A sense of foreboding loomed in his mind and suddenly he didn't want any more breakfast. His whole appetite vanished as he wondered what in the world could have caused his mother to use Fidweten for he was only used when there was grave danger or worse, death within the family. The scarlet ribbon gave him no assurance either, for it meant the very same thing.

Muttering a barely audible excuse about forgetting his Charms textbook, which incidentally had been true thus saving him from further questions from his fellow Slytherins, he grabbed his bookbag and nearly bolted out of the Great Hall. Draco unconsciously headed seemingly towards his dormitory to get the textbook and also some privacy, the scroll of parchment clutched in his left hand, his right hand on the strap of his bookbag on his shoulder. Pretty soon, his curiosity mounted to such a peak that he finally noticed he was actually going the wrong way. He was instead in some empty corridor he assumed must be at the south end of the castle for he could see the lake from over the stone railings.

He set his bookbag down on the railing and hoisted himself up so he was sitting on it, half-leaning against the pillar. His fingers carefully unravelled the ribbon and smoothed out the slightly creased parchment. It was a letter addressed to him .. and yet it wasn't in an envelope nor did it have any indication as to who it was from.

Dear Draco,

You may not know who I am but let me only introduce myself as a distant relative of yours. My full identity is not of importance. However, what I am about to say is. I do hope you are seated as you read this.

Draco, your parents are dead. Your father, Lucius Malfoy attempted a breakout, unfortunately, his life was taken in the unsuccessful event. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy has passed away to unknown causes. It is my personal belief that her death was a result of an ancient Malfoy binding curse.

It is with a heavy heart that I had to relay this message to you but someone had to do it. However, being a Malfoy, you must continue to be strong and carry on the family name, pride and honour. In fact, you are required to get married to a respected pureblooded witch as soon as you graduate so as to ensure that the Malfoy name will not diminish. And I must warn you, that whatever happens, never, I repeat never fall in love. It is for your own good.

Signed

a relative

Draco looked up, his pale eyes wide in shock. His parents ... his mother and father ... dead. Gone. Forever. He knew he should be devastated but in truth, he felt nothing. Not anger, not hurt, not sadness, not loss ... nothing. True, the news was nothing short of a shock to him .. after all, it wasn't everyday he gets letters informing him of his parents' death, but still he had expected he would feel at least liberated from the strangling evil throes of his parents. None whatsoever.

He did not know how long he spent sitting on the cold, stone railing reading and re-reading the letter, mulling over a million questions in his head but it must've been quite awhile for students began filling up the previously deserted corridor. Yet he sat unfazed, as though not even noticing in the change of population. It wasn't until a certain black-haired, snub-nosed female wearing a wrinkled expression of haught on her face caught sight of him, walked over and prodded him did he finally come back to the present reality.

"Draco dear, what are you doing here? I've missed you at Charms, where were you?"

"I-uh...wha-oh .. Pansy." He mentally shook himself a little. "Nothing I um .. what do we have next?"

"Herbology of course. Come on, class starts in ten minutes."

Pansy then noticed the parchment hanging limp in his hands and she cocked her head slightly at it. He sensed her shift in attention and swiftly stuffed the letter into his the deep pockets of his robes, sliding off the railing quickly.

"You're right, we're going to be late." He then set off in a fast pace, causing Pansy to forcefully gather her bearings and tear after him, falling in step with him, that haughty look hitched back onto her unattractive face, a slight smirk on her lips.

Draco frowned. The last thing he needed or even wanted was to have Pansy Parkinson dog his trail for the rest of the day and so hurriedly racked his brains for a way to get out of the predicament. Just before they reached the greenhouses, he stopped mid-step, feigning a look of sudden remembrance.

"Oh bloody hell, I left something behind, you go on ahead."

"You left something behind again, Draco? That's the second time today."

"Yes well I'm not perfect."

"I'll come with you."

"No! ... I mean, no you go on ahead, it won't do to have both Slytherin's best late for class now, will it?"

He'd hit the right buttons. Pansy's squashed face stretched into what looked like a grin, nodded and left. He sighed softly, shaking his head. He knew he would probably pay alot for ditching two lessons in one day but he was sure if he had to stand a whole class with Pansy hanging on to his every word he would snap. Draco slowly trudged southwards towards the lake, not noticing a certain brunette watching his actions in puzzlement before striding confidently into the castle.

Choosing a well-sheltered spot under an old tree with generous spreading branches, he threw his bookbag down and sat down beside it. The ground was soft and the grass was lush. His eyes gazed out at the vast lake, his mind running questions around the letter in his pockets. He withdrew the letter and glanced through it for about the hundredth time. Hate began forming in his heart.

'How dare they', he thought. 'How dare they force me to think about marriage right after informing me of my parents' deaths? How dare they assume they still have control over my life? How dare they not tell me this in person but use a bloody owl and a bloody letter and expect me to be okay with this? How dare they use being a Malfoy as a reason?' He hated being a Malfoy ever since that final war against Voldemort and his supporters. He hated how being a Malfoy prevented him from being a human being with feeling. He hated how people thought the only reason he switched sides during the war was to save his own skin.

'They don't know how I feel. They don't know how horrible it is to be a Malfoy'. And it was all because of his father's ancestral instinct. 'Lucius bloody Malfoy.' He wanted so much to be glad Lucius was dead but even he wasn't quite the ungrateful child he was taught and brought up to be. Draco groaned, hugged his knees and hid his face in his arms.

'I hate you father. I hate you for dying now.'

A voice at his back startled him to alertness. "I think, Mr Malfoy..." Draco turned around to see Albus Dumbledore staring down his half-moon spectacles at him, an unreadable expression on his aged face.

"I think we owe us a talk."