These people get love: Weirdlyyours, DCoD, DivineDarkness, fifespice, Poetic License, and firewolfalpha.

Here's a short little chapter that was meant to give more insight on a certain white-blond family of purebloodedness and smuggery (props to clam chowder for inventing the word 'smuggery' by the way).

Chapter Eleven: Dangerous Ideas

Malfoy prodded at the still body of the owl. "It's not moving," he said matter-of-factly.

His father, so tall and imposing even as he sat in an armchair, rolled his eyes at the boy over his Daily Prophet. "It's dead, Draco."

"But I don't want it to be dead, it delivers all the sweets from Uncle Hibredes."

"We'll get a new one, son. Now stop interrupting me."

Draco thought about a new owl delivering his sweets, and began to cry. It wasn't the same. "Father, I don't want it to be dead. Make it not dead!"

"Don't be foolish. You can't bring something back to life. Once it's gone, it's gone, Draco. I'm not about to start practicing Necromancy to bring your bloody owl back from the dead," Lucius Malfoy hissed.

"The Ministry of Magic should make a law against dying," Malfoy asserted through his tears. "They should make it so if you die, you go to Azkaban."

His young son's new conviction was a total paradox, but instead of rolling his eyes, the elder Malfoy stared at the gilded wall across from him. "A man had such ideas once." He looked directly at his son and warned him, "Dangerous ideas. He's dead because of them now, boy."

"Who was he, Father?"

"We don't speak his name, Draco. We called him the Dark Lord."

"And he didn't like death?"

Lucius smiled grimly. "Not his own, at the very least. He was somewhat more liberal with that of others."

"He doesn't sound so bad. But I bet he died anyway," Draco said, voice bitter.

Lucius' smile turned a little sinister, but the young boy didn't notice. "Not completely, Draco. Not completely."

Had the boy not gone back to miserably prodding his dead owl and instead realized that Lucius had just contradicted everything he'd told him about death, he would have seen his father's eyes alight on a bookshelf near the armchair, settling on a small shabby book nestled in among the tomes of Dark Magic and evil spells.

From this point of view, it was hard to tell which was the more dangerous, the little book or the ominous volumes looming over it. But Lucius knew.

--------------------------------

Cue the ominous music…I must say, little ickle Malfiekins makes me think of Shirley Temple or toddler!Mr. Burns from the Simpsons.

FFF, she can be loud and rude
About getting her precious fic reviewed
Even when a chapter is boring or lewd.
It's true, it's true, she loves reviews
They make her giddy and enthused
Won't you leave FFF a lovely review?

Lo, my rhyming skills! (Yes, I am aware I rhymed reviews with review.)