Ahoi me hearties!

One thing that's been brought to my attention is the age of Hermione. I realise that I wrote it, so Hermione is born in 1980 instead of 1979. In my country, we go to school with kids who were born the same year as us – I was born in '87 and all the kids I went to school with were also born in '87.

This chapter is a bit different. It consists of snapshots of the Malfoy household until Draco starts Hogwarts, so a bit of a rather fluffy filler. I hope you enjoy though.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think.

June 1984

Draco was lying under the covers. He was pretending to sleep, so his parents could come to wake him up. He had been lying there for what seemed to be forever, wiggling his toes. He had his dragon and his blanket to keep him company though. His father had said that he was too big to sleep with his blanket, but he had sworn never to part with it. It might get lonely, lying in a drawer or a cabinet somewhere. Besides, it was a beautiful thing with his very own monogram. Mother had designed his monogram herself at his birth. He was letting his small fingers run over the smooth stitches in emerald green that made out the letter "D" – the first letter he had learned. He knew five letters so far, but his governess insisted that it wasn't enough. He ran over the letter "M" next, carefully embroidered in silver thread, as a background to the "D". The writing had so many loops it reminded him of the grapevines, with tendrils curling themselves around the pergola in the back of the gardens, where he would go in the autumn to eat grapes until he got a bad stomach.

He heard the door open and he imagined his parents carefully tiptoeing across his room, which was still somewhat dark due to the heavy drapes covering the windows. He laid very still, which was hard when he was almost trembling with anticipation.

Suddenly, there was a bump and a splash.

"AAARGH! DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!" His mother screeched and his father cursed.

He quickly turned around to see observe the scene before him and he burst out laughing.

Both his parents had fallen into his trap. He had carefully strung out a tripwire and rigged it to a large bucket of water, which he had hung from the ceiling with the help of his favourite house elf, Ellie.

Father was trying to get up from his position on the floor, but was struggling against Mother, who had fallen on top of him.

He laughed even harder, watching them trying to right themselves and failing because they kept slipping when trying to get up.

May 1986

"Faaaaather!" Draco whisper yelled. He was walking through the manor, his shoes making a squelching sound with each step. His wet pants were starting to chafe in uncomfortable places. He could summon an elf, but didn't want to because they were the ones, he had been running away from in the first place.

They had been trying to keep him in his rooms, but it was boring, so when he had seen the big puddle gathering from the rain in the gardens through the window, he had given the elves the slip. It was ridiculously easy too. He had told them he wanted to play hide and seek, but instead of counting, and finding the hidden elves, he had simply left through the doors.

He had put his shoes on in the cloakroom – the fancy ones his mother had gotten for him in Paris. He liked them because they were shiny. Slowly and with as much stealth as a 5-year old could muster, he had snuck through the reception hall, through the drawing room and the solarium and out a small hidden door to the terrace. From there, he had run down the steps to the immaculate pathways. Any outsider would have gotten lost in seconds but having spent every second he could in the gardens, he knew each and every turn. He had greeted every plant and flower on his way, as was his habit. His mother spent a great amount of time in the gardens and had taught him the names of all the flowers – it was only proper for a young man to learn about flowers, she had told him. Or else he might end up sending his beloved something as thoughtless and unimaginative as red roses. Uncle Severus had taught him the names of all the plants he used in his potions – because apparently it was only proper for the godson of a potions master to know all the plants in the greenhouse, their properties, the method of preparing them and in which potions they were used.

When he had found his destination – the large puddle, in the corner of one of the pathways to the greenhouses, he slowed to a stop, admiring it. It was more glorious than he had thought, looking at it from his window. The first jump was so big that the water splashed all the way out onto the pathway. He had felt the water filling his fancy shoes, but he hadn't cared. On the fifth jump, he had slipped and fallen on his bum, his pants and underwear getting soaked in the icy water. He had gotten out of the puddle, slipping again in the process and falling on his stomach.

Covered in mud from head to toe, he had waddled back towards the house, where he was now searching for his father. He was moving down the east wing where his father's study was located and jumped, when the door was slammed open. A large man, with a balding head, strolled out of his fathers' study, laughing at a joke Draco had missed. His father followed; his smile stiff. The smile disappeared however, when he took in Draco's appearance. The other man roared with laughter

"Oi Malfoy! Give 'im a mop of red hair and you got yourself a Weasley! You sure that Arthur hasn't been by to visit your wife?"

Draco's fathers' eyes glittered dangerously, but rather than giving the man a scolding for being rude, his father just smirked.

"Now now, Goyle. I'm sure that you didn't mean to offend both the most ancient and noble Houses of Black and Malfoy by insinuating such crassness." He said mildly. He smirked wider, when the other man started fumbling.

"No, I mean... I didn't mean…"

"Easy, Goyle. Don't hurt yourself with all that thinking." Draco's father rolled his eyes.

Goyle Sr. huffed. He knew he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he knew when he was being insulted. "Well, maybe you should bring the boy around sometime, Malfoy. We have little Greg, I'm sure they could have fun and we'll set both of them on the right path. Away from all that mud." He sneered at Draco.

"Perhaps" Lucius shrugged. "Mimsy!" He called.

The elf appeared with a crack and her already large eyes widened even more when she saw the state Draco was in.

"Please show mister Goyle out. I need to have a word with Draco." His father looked at him pointedly and he had the good sense to look ashamed.

Mimsy hastily grabbed Goyle Sr's pant leg and apparated him out, leaving father and son alone in the corridor.

His father scowled at him. "Draco, do you know who the Weasleys are?"

Draco shrugged, not knowing.

"They are a wizarding family – pureblood like us, but the blood is the only thing pure about them. They are poor but insist on having endless amounts of children even though they can't provide for them. You embarrassed me today Draco. I'm very disappointed in you."

Draco started crying, but his father didn't hold him or kiss his cheeks as he normally would when he had skinned his knee or missed his mother, and that was the moment, when Draco realised that disappointing his father was the worst thing he could ever do.

"Merlins beard, Draco." His father huffed after a while, uncomfortably. "Have you even seen yourself?"

Draco hiccupped and shook his head. His father took out his wand and transfigured the door to his study to a mirror. Draco gasped when he saw his mud streaked face. Only a few strands of blond hair stuck out, but most of his scalp was brown. In fact, he was brown. His skin, his clothes and his hair. His jumper had been emerald with cool dragons flying around. All the dragons were now cowering on a small patch of the jumper on his shoulder, that was still clean. He couldn't help but snort at the dragons that were supposed to be fierce.

"Aguamenti"

Suddenly he was hit by a small jet of water on the side of the cheek and he looked up at his father in surprise. His father laughed at his expression but rose his wand again. "We need to wash you, Draco" he grinned.

Draco's eyes widened and he took off down the hall in a sprint squealing with delight, trying to get away from his father who ran after him, shooting jets of water at him.

The elves were very happy to do the clean-up. It made them feel better after being duped by the young master.

Later in the evening, Lucius sat in his study, reflecting on the meeting he had with Goyle Sr. He had poured himself a large tumbler of firewhiskey. His father had always told him that muggles were weak and inferior – positively primitive. They were pests that ought to be controlled and exterminated, to make way for wizardkind to grow. He knew the muggles weren't primitive, but he had severely underestimated how far they had come in their endeavours to develop their community. It seemed to him though, that they had gotten cocky and, in their attempt, to create something magical, they had doomed a large portion of their own population. It was horrifying, but worst of all – a lot of wizards had died too. Where had been a rather large wizarding enclave by the Pripyat River in Ukraine. They had been taken by surprise, when their people had started getting sick and dying – the wizarding town had been completely razed. Some of the old allies of the Dark Lord, had contacted Goyle and demanded help from their group in gaining retribution against the muggles who had let the disaster happen, and then the muggle government who knew about the existence of the wizarding community, but had failed to warn them of the disaster. What especially worried him was the news that what had happened in Ukraine, had happened in a relatively safe facility. Apparently, the muggles had also managed to weaponize the stuff, making it possible to doom not only mugglekind, but all of mankind. Wizards would not survive such an attack – this disaster proved as much.

Lucius let his head fall against his desk chair and sighed. He would have a meeting with the angry wizards in two days' time and hopefully be able to convince them that muggle slaughter was pointless. It would be far more beneficial to all of them to gain justice by kicking the responsible people from their place in power. It would be a challenge, but this Communist Party would fall. They would make sure of it.

He smiled slightly, when he heard the light footsteps of his wife in the hallway, no doubt looking for him. Sure enough, the door to his study opened slowly and Narcissa smiled gently at him.

"I had to give Draco a Pepper-up before putting him to bed. Otherwise he would surely have a cold tomorrow."

Lucius cringed "You know how I feel about snotty noses"

Narcissa laughed and it filled him with warmth.

August 1988

"Tell me again why we let Draco socialise with those two trolls? I really don't like them."

"I know you don't, Cissy, but what choice do we have? For some reason he likes them, and their fathers are very insistent for them to spend time together."

A frown marred Narcissas otherwise perfect face. An expression not many had the luxury of witnessing since she always stowed away her feelings when in company. The married couple were sitting in front of the fire, discussing their son's so-called friends. "They're a horrible influence on Draco. He's smart, but he's still a child. He's impressionable. They're bullies and they're rubbing off on him. Just yesterday I saw him trying to kick Ellie."

Lucius smirked. "And what did Ellie do?"

"She apparated away and Draco fell on his bottom." Narcissa huffed and rolled her eyes. "But that's hardly the point. He is turning into a bully and it's their influence. That Vincent Crabbe is particularly vicious."

Lucius looked at her apologetically. "I can't just cut them away. We are still tied down by the contract for another ten years." Lucius sighed "I'm certain that Draco will be fine. He might be assertive, but once he starts seeing other children at Hogwarts, he will mellow. I'm sure of it."

Narcissa rubbed her forehead. "That's still a long time away. He's a right terror now – imagine how he will be at eleven."

"Maybe we should consider Durmstrang? That way he will be completely separated from Crabbe and Goyle when the time comes."

"Absolutely not!" Narcissas voice left no room for discussion as she returned to the book in her lap. Hogwarts felt far away, but Durmstrang might as well have been on another planet.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Cissy" He smiled sadly at her.

She sighed and bit her lip. "Maybe we should find another sort of activity for him? Something that would prevent him from coming with you, but something that would distract him from them as well."

Lucius pursed his lips. "When I was about Draco's age, I received my first potion's kit. Do you think Severus would agree to tutor Draco, just every once in a while? Coincidentally the times when I have to meet with Crabbe and Goyle?"

Narcissa smirked. "Leave Sev to me. I just wish he had someone else to play with. He needs other children his own age."

Lucius sighed. "I suppose Nott has a son about Draco's age. And then there's the Bulstrodes, the Greengrasses and the Parkinsons in our circles" He shrugged.

"I would say that any son of Nott's is bound to be a prejudiced little delinquent, but it can hardly get any worse than the hooligans he's hanging around now. Scratch the other three off the list – they all have girls and they'll only see in as an invitation to a betrothal contract. I just wish we weren't limited to "our circles" if you want to put it that way." She huffed.

Lucius raised a brow at her "What do you have in mind?"

"Some of the children I meet are absolutely amazing. I have met two, who will be in Draco's year." She gushed

"Muggleborns?"

She rolled her eyes "Yes, muggleborns, Lucius, do keep up. One is a boy – very intelligent and ever so polite, but there's a girl – she is sharp as a whip and she has such a thirst and enthusiasm for knowledge. She wants to know everything there is to know about the world she's going to enter. I truly wish things were different – I wish I could bring her to the manor and dote on her and let her loose in the library and the archives, if only to see her face light up the way it does when I bring her a new book on my visits." She grinned at him.

Lucius smiled softly. "I know you always wanted a girl, Cissy, but it doesn't do to kidnap other people's children"

She slapped his chest lightly "Oh, hush. You'd want to keep her too if you met her. I can't place it, but she somehow reminds me of someone."

Lucius grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Maybe we'll meet her some day in Diagon Alley or the Hogwarts Express and you can point them out to me, but we can't acknowledge them until the contract runs out."

August 1990

"Ow!" Draco put his finger in his mouth and frowned at the offending instrument that had seen it fit to cut him. The silver knife laid on the cutting board, looking all innocent, but Draco knew better.

"Tsk – Draco." Uncle Severus admonished, but healed the poor index finger anyways.

"You should be more careful with your blood, Draco."

"I know" Draco nodded. "Because it's so pure, it shouldn't go to waste"

Uncle Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't be an idiot Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked at him confusedly "What do you mean, Uncle Sev?"

"You should be more careful with your blood, not because it's pure, but because it's yours. If someone gets a hold of it, they could potentially use it against you. They could use it to control you, they could use it to locate you, they could even use it in a love potion."

Draco snorted "Love potion?"

"Imagine for a second that Pansy Parkinson or Milicent Bulstrode had some of your blood. They could force you to love them forever – to marry them and give them the entire Malfoy fortune."

Draco looked at his Godfather in horror, cradling his finger close to his chest.

"I'll be more careful Uncle Sev."

Severus Snape nodded with a satisfied smirk, but inside, he was worried about his godson. Blood was precious certainly, magical blood more so, but no kind of magical blood was worth more than another kind. He hoped that the boy wasn't going down a path he, himself had been on a long time ago. That road would only take him towards heart ache.