I don't exist, Draco thought. That's a sad thought, maybe even a lonely one… but on the bright side a boy who does not exist doesn't have to get up and go to transfiguration class. But not even his lack of existence was convenient – if he was going to pass his OWLs he had to go to class, existing or not. So somehow, he managed to get up form his way too comfortable bed, dress slowly and walk up the stairs towards the great hall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyl as always. Merlin, Draco hated those two guys.

If a hippogriff's shit mixed with a mudblood's vomit had become a Potion of effect, Draco imagined drinking that would give you an illusion of participating in McGonagall's transfiguration class. He, a Malfoy, should not allow himself to participate in such a useless waste of time! Actually, going to this school was degrading enough; the teachers where supposed to teach the students magic, not transforming a flower into – wait for it – yet another flower. Draco would have dropped out long ago, if it hadn't been for –

A stern, grim voice interrupted Draco's thoughts, a voice you could always count on for interruptions.

"Those daisies certainly look like the tulips, which I think – and correct me if I'm wrong – you were supposed to transfer them from –" McGonagall checked her clock "– about fifteen minutes ago." She raised her voice so the whole class could hear her. "Homework till Thursday – practice!" Draco was already on his way out, but again McGonagall's voice stopped him.

"Mr. Malfoy – a word, please." McGonagall was standing next to the front desk, her back so straight it looked like she'd replaced her spine with her own wand. What did she want from him?

"Yes, professor?" Draco said in his best polite-but-cold-as-ice voice. The other students were long gone. Just him and professor bright-and-charming then.

"The headmaster asked me to – well, we agreed it might be worth asking – are you familiar with a woman who goes by the name Cavillia Malfoy?" The question sounded odd and reluctant. For once, Draco could answer a question McGonagall asked right away.

"No. I mean, no Professor."

McGonagall's steely eyes watched his face closely. "Mr. Malfoy, I would not ask this question if it wasn't of great importance. Finding out more of what this woman was would help us a lot with… certain things. So, I ask again, are you completely sure that you've never heard the name Cavillia Malfoy?"

"No Professor – never."

The professor wasn't pleased yet, she kept talking. "Is there anything you could do to find out?"

"I would do my very best."

"Well, then. You may go along with your classmates – I'm sure they're waiting." The professor turned around, and so did Draco and started walking to the door, confused. A thump caught his attention, he turned and looked down on the one who had caused the sound. A boy was rising – green eyes behind round glasses faced Draco, and to Draco's satisfaction he noticed that he'd grown a few inches taller than the boy over the summer.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said in surprise. "Why aren't you out enjoying the nice weather outside with your fellow students?" Her words where casual; her voice was hard.

"Sorry Professor… I was just looking for my quill," Potter answered in an innocent tone, holding up a black quill as proof. Yeah right, Draco thought.

"Well, off you go then," McGonagall said. "Both of you."

As soon as the door closed behind them Draco started walking, and so did unfortunately Potter, too. There were no students in the hallway, but lots of portraits, likely to gossip to anyone and everyone as soon as they got the change, and Draco had a weird feeling this wasn't something he would like people to gossip about. But the boy walking besides him obviously didn't care about this, because he started talking.

"Who is Civillia Malfoy?" Draco turned and faced for the second time today the one and only Boy Who Lived. He smelled like outdoors and wood and something else… sweeter.

"Like I said, I don't know," Draco said coldly. He turned around and started to walk again, where he did not know. He could hear the boy's footsteps and cense his smell, so he knew Potter was still following him. Draco rolled his eyes.

"What," he said irritated. Couldn't this Potter-kid just leave him alone?

"She's a Malfoy, obviously, and dead as well – Professor McGonagall said, 'who this woman was' – but why did she and Dumbledoor need to know who she is – was?" The green-eyed boy was now just babbling to himself. Draco stopped and turned to him.

"Will you please shut up?"

"We've gotta find out who she was."

"We? No! You –" he pointed at Potter, "Me –" he pointed at himself. "No 'us.' I've got to get to class, you've got to shut up!" Draco's anger was sudden, but familiar. Harry – no, Potter he meant – didn't seem to care though, judging from his facial expression he was far, far away.

"'We' does off course not include you. Do you have any family three?" Potter words seemed to ring in his ears even after they were uttered. Why did they hurt? No, that didn't matter for the moment, Draco ignored whatever it was that he felt and straightened up.

"The Malfoys are a great, old, respected family, no one can keep control over every Malfoy that has ever existed – not that you would know anything about an old, respected family. Or family at all."

Potter's eyes where gleaming in anger, but his voice was casual and calm.

"You're telling me that there's no record over your family whatsoever?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course, there is over a part of the family, every well-respected Malfoy has a copy but –"

"Great, bring it to the library seven o clock tomorrow."

"What?"

"Sorry, it was stupid of me to assume that you're a well-respected one… I'll find another Malfoy"

"The problem isn't that I don't have it, it's the fact that I'd spend time with you of my own, free will."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly thrilled, either, but you're my only alternative. So, seven?"

"I won't be there."

"Well, then it will be a much nicer visit to the library." As Harry turned around and walked away, Draco realised that, despite his own words, he would be at the library seven o clock tomorrow. Merlin.