Author's note: this is a short chapter so to compensate i updated a little more than usual.

Chapter 3 - Ignorance is Bliss, Unless You Are Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy's eyes snapped open.

He ripped aside his green bed hangings and glanced blearily at his surroundings. Around him, the four other boys who shared his dormitory slept soundly. It was still dark out, or rather it was near dawn.

Draco glanced at his watch, it said: way to early to be awake

He exhaled, like he hadn't figured that out on his own.

He sat back down in his bed and shut his hangings, for the next few minutes he tried in vain to get back to sleep but for some reason rest eluded him. He then decided that he might as well get started for the day. Perhaps he would have sometime to himself for once.

He was the very first down to breakfast, finishing his pumpkin juice, sausages, eggs and tea even before half the school got down there. Then it was off to the library.

All in all, he was in a good mood, immersed in yet another volume about an obscure potion. In a rare burst of optimism he figured that perhaps it would be a nice day today, maybe, if he was lucky, Potter would get kicked out, Voldemort will die of food poisoning and his own father will get lost at sea.

There was a sudden tapping on the library window.

Too much to hope for, Draco, hope should have been eradicated from your existence long ago.

His mood immediately blackened.

Draco looked up from his book to see an elegant black eagle owl.

"Gideon." he muttered, walking up to the window and letting the owl fly in. "I've been expecting you."

The owl hooted softly.

Draco chuckled to himself, finding a bread crust in one of his pockets and handed it to the own as he untied the scroll of heavy, fine quality parchment strapped to its leg.

A letter from Lucius no doubt, the wizard thought to himself. Surely enough, when he unrolled the scroll he found that it too was blank.

Damn paranoid Deatheaters. He thought to himself.

He tapped the scroll once with his wand and muttered the incantation to reveal the message, as soon as he did; spidery handwriting began to cover the page in vermillion ink.

Draco,

I see that you have finally surpassed the mudblood, Granger, in grade point average.

Though I am delighted by this news, it begs the question:

What has taken so long?

Are you so inadequate that damned filthy mudblood surpassed you for so long in that which you have been destined to do? She has no right to it and yet it has taken you this long to best her in such.

It is about time, boy.

Also, keep vigilant, they knew that you intend to follow the dark path, keep watch for that

Muggle loving old coot and Potter. Now even more than ever I am in need of eyes and ears into

Hogwarts and I know that I cannot trust anyone else. Be ready to answer my inquires, the

Information you may provide may be what we need for the triumph of our cause.

I am working to gain you a place far into the inner workings of the inner circle, you have a

Great opportunity to serve our lord. Do not squander it.

Do not let me down, boy, or there will be consequences.

Father.

Post script: your mother misses you and can scarcely wait for you to return for the summer.

Draco scowled at the piece of parchment.

"Insindio." he muttered clutching it tightly in his hand. The letter burst into flames, which did not burn him, and then was reduced to ashes which blew away. He then pulled his own bit of parchment out of his pocket writing a hasty reply.

He knew that every word of his father's letter was absolute bullshit. His father trusted him about as much as he trusted his father, which wasn't much.

He glanced around before slamming his fist down on the table in frustration, wishing he could just blast the man into smithereens. After this moment of anger he composed himself, it would not do for others to see him this ruffled up.

Gideon hooted softly, and nipped Draco's fingers gently. Draco looked down at his owl. He's had the bird for many years, ever since he was old enough to write. It was shameful to note that he also loved the bird a great deal. After all, it was the only thing that had ever shown him anything even remotely resembling affection. He stroked the owl carefully and smiled, he knew of course that it was supremely fucked up when he was so starved of care and acknowledgement that he looked to his owl to give it to him, but he was through feeling sorry for himself.

He didn't fucking care.

He sighed and attached the letter to his owl's leg.

"Be sure to nip the bastard just little harder than necessary." he advised.

The own made a nod-like jerk and then took off. Draco closed the window after him and then returned to his book.

At least no one had been around to witness the few slips of character. One good thing to be grateful for, because suddenly, Draco had a feeling that today would not be a good day at all.