Summons

Draco had sealed the last box. He hadn't realised how much stuff his father kept lying around! It had taken him four painstaking days to gather it all up and hide it. Some items he kept for himself. There was Lucius' favourite ring, a snake encircling what looked like an emerald, its mouth opened wide as if devouring the jewel. He dared not wear it on his finger, for fear that his mother would make him take it off. Instead he found a long, silver chain and wore it round his neck beneath his silk shirt.

There was also a belt, and broach that he decided to keep in his room, he could take them with him to Hogwarts, he thought. Then I won't have to hide them from Mother.

He lifted the chest and took it into the spare room at the end of the corridor. Nobody used that room, save the house-elves when they were hiding from Lucius' wrath. They had no reason to hide now. Draco did not much care for house-elves. He would let them stay and work for him, of course, but he wouldn't acknowledge their existence.

He was getting used to the fact that the house was his now. The first few days were tough. He kept thinking he had to ask permission to go in his father's study, before realising that it was his study now.

Narcissa had spent most of the week in bed, being tended by an old female house-elf called Poppy. She was looking much better now, although she wasn't talking. Then again, Draco thought, she never spoke much anyway, except when he had done something to disappoint her or Lucius. Which happened quite a lot.

Locking the door behind him, Draco heard a fluttering nearby. He wandered down the corridor, checking every room for the source of the sound. He reached his room where three fluffy owls had perched themselves on his balcony. Sliding open the doors he went outside to retrieve his letters.

He sat on one of the old chairs outside, as the morning sun shone down and warmed his skin. He hadn't realised how pale he looked until the light hit him.

He opened the first letter.

Mr. Malfoy,

I hope, considering your family circumstances, that you are feeling a little better. I have written to inform you that the reporter Edward Goldbridge, has dropped his charges against you, claiming that he understands you were terribly upset about the trial and it was not a personal attack. I find this amusing, especially since your father's cell-block guard was found dead just the other day. Nasty business. Anyway, please find enclosed a note from your Father, it was mailed directly to me with strict instruction that it was for your eyes only. The ministry cannot open his mail, they need a warrant. But I dare-say they will get one sooner or later, so enjoy the privacy while you still can.

Regards,

Marcus Heath

Draco hastily checked the envelope he had discarded, inside was a small piece of what looked and smelled like used toilet paper, but on closer inspection, was in fact a piece of blank scrap paper from a newspaper.

Draco,

I hope you and your mother are well. Tell her I think of her everyday. You are my light in this place they call a prison. Luckily the money 'donated' to the guards has helped me secure a more comfortable enclosure than the others here. They actually supply me with a morning paper now. In fact that is how I have been able to right to you. Letter writing is technically forbidden in here, yet Heath found a loophole. The actual law is that no prisoner is allowed access to any writing materials. So I managed to bribe one of the guards to sit outside my cell and write this for me, while I dictate. Technically I have not been allowed access to it, so it is all legal. You will need you to pay him for this, as I have no access to money in here. His name is Figg. He also says that he can keep the details of our correspondence a secret as long as he retrieves a reasonable sum of money every month.

I saw the article in the Daily Prophet. I presume you have too. I just wanted to say I am so proud of you for sticking with me son. You are not afraid to show your true feelings. Something I have been unable to do for years.

With love,

Your Father

Draco smiled weakly as a tear rolled down his cheek. He took a deep breath and smelled the morning air. It was sweet and fresh, not like the air inside the old mansion, which was stuffy and old. He tucked his father's letter in his shirt, near his heart. He didn't want his mother to see it either. She was still too fragile, and she had just started to improve.

He recognised the writing of the next letter, the bold but beautiful script of Albus Dumbledore was instantly recognisable. Although he was partially responsible for Lucius' capture and imprisonment, Draco had mixed feelings. One part of him, the Malfoy part, hated him with a passion. The other part, that of a student, admired Dumbledore greatly, like Snape. He admired the power and obedience their presence commanded, in a similar way to his father.

Dear Draco,

I have spoken to the exam board and they have agreed to give you an extension for your end of year assignment. Your exams will be taking place in four weeks, hopefully by then you will be attending school again. You may have a longer away period if you wish, but I strongly suggest you return. Being surrounded by close friends may help heal the wounds.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts

Draco lazily read the note and placed it back in its envelope. Close friends? He thought. 'I don't have close friends.' Crabbe and Goyle were more like minions than friends, but they were quite humorous at times. However, they would be as likely to tell a joke as he, Draco would act nice to Harry Potter! They would not be in very humorous moods seeing as their father's were also in Azkaban. Then there was Pansy, who was so pretty when she smiled. She was a friend at times when it suited her. Most of the time she would be with a herd of slytherin girls, bitching about Granger or some other moron!

He bit his lip. Morons! All of them! Potter, Granger, Weasley and that oaf Hagrid who they loved so much! All Morons!

He had forgotten about the third letter in his lap. He picked it up and inspected the writing. It also, was very beautifully written. The words Master Malfoy shone with an eerie green light. Obviously this letter was bound with a spell so that only he could read it. He cracked open the wax ceal and sparks of green erupted from it, then died down.

Opening the letter fully, his heart pounded with excitement.

Master Malfoy,

Should any hands other than your own open this letter, it is designed to kill, so please dispose of it when it is of no further use. Such a dangerous artefact in your possession might draw suspicion.

I know of your Father's condition. The guard who watched over him during his time in court was very helpful in telling us all the information we asked for. Lucius seems to be making acquaintances everywhere I look.

I have requested your presence at a private gathering at Woodsmanor to discuss your future.

I am hoping that Lucius has already informed you about this place, having been there many times himself. If not, I suggest that you ask your mother. She may also attend if she so wishes.

I will send a sign when the time is near. Think of it as a test.

Do not disappoint.

Draco swallowed hard. A sharp thud made him jump. The scruffy spotted owl that delivered the letter had fallen off it's perch. Clearly distressed it was trying to stand upright, and kept toppling over. Flapping it's wings didn't seem to help. Draco was about to touch it when it started to scream. It was a horrible noise, a scream of intense pain and suffering, it only lasted a few seconds...then it exploded in a crackle of green flames. Draco closed his eyes in disgust. The corpse lay burning on the balcony floor. Draco curiously put his hands near it to feel the heat, but was surprised to find that the green flames were cold. He daringly placed his hand in the flame, and recoiled as if burned. It was freezing. In the split second his hand touched the flame, a layer of frost had covered his fingers. The flame died out and the bird's body was a block of ice. The other Owls had flown away in fright. Draco kicked the dead bird off the balcony and watched as it shattered on the ground below.

"Draco?" Narcissa's voice was trembling, "Are you alright?"

She must have heard the scream, he thought. "Yeah…er…an owl, just…er…exploded!" He laughed uneasily, he didn't want to upset her further, the sound of the scream was frightening enough to make her get out of bed.

"You got a letter didn't you?" She whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

"How did you know?" Draco knew he couldn't play dumb, she was far too clever to fall for that.

"I got one too, not long after your father and I married…I knew what he was…but I…" she trailed off.

"He never uses the same owl twice. They fly in only one way, and then they are destroyed so that none can track them." She walked over to him and snatched the letter from his fingertips.

"Mother! No! Don't!" Draco shouted.

She walked over to the fireplace and threw the letter into it. "Incendio!" she shouted. The log fire sprouted flames and consumed the letter in a flash of green light.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He thought she was going to open it, which would have resulted in her untimely demise, and Draco could not bear to lose both his parents in the same week.

Exams were over at last! Harry and Ron were packing their trunks in the gryffindor tower. Harry had no particular desire to return to the Dursleys any time soon, so instead he accepted an invitation from Mrs. Weasley to stay at the Burrow for a while. Normally he needed no invitation, so he presumed Mrs. Weasley was just a little out of sorts. She had been mothering him a lot lately! Sending both he and Ron letters, asking how he was doing, whether he was coping. The usual sympathetic sentences one hears after a death in the family.

Harry was used to coping with death. Although still deeply emotional about Sirius' murder, he found it easier to keep it safe inside him and keep it from affecting his friends' behaviour. It had been a month, plenty of time to mourn, now its time to stop thinking about what he'd lost, and think about the experiences he'd had. Harry laughed to himself when he thought of a time both he and Sirius had sat at a table and joked about Malfoy being his cousin.

"Malfoy!" he thought out loud.

"Say-what?" Ron asked, still packing.

"Oh nothing! Was just wondering about Malfoy! I don't recall seeing him at all during exams. Do you think he's skived or dropped out?"

"Not sure!" Ron said. Maybe he's done his exams in a separate room or something. Hermione said that she saw him in class yesterday. He'd spat in her cauldron in potions. Snape didn't see it of course, and she lost marks when her purple sludge turned a slightly different shade of purple sludge."

"Oh right!" Harry laughed. "Well I suppose Snape did see and suggested to Dumbledore…"

"Suggested what?" Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. His eyes twinkling over his spectacles.

"…that perhaps it would be best if Draco was separated from us during exam periods sir!" Harry spoke slowly.

"Ah…I see…you are correct Harry! Severus did indeed tell me what happened to Miss Granger's cauldron, and suggested a little separation would be best. Although he did wish that you and your friends be the ones who are separated from Draco, and not the other way round!" he giggled.

"How is Draco coping!" Harry asked. He was not really concerned, but he did feel sympathetic toward his nemesis, after all, losing ones family is very painful. Harry knew.

"Not half as well as you it seems!" the headmasters face drooped a little. Clearly Dumbledore was very concerned about Draco's welfare. He did not want the younger Malfoy following in his father's footsteps. But now it seemed, there were no other footsteps to follow.

"Did you need something Professor?" Ron butted in to change the awkward conversation.

"Yes Mr. Weasley. Harry? I hear that you will not be returning to your Aunts for the beginning of the summer holidays. I would however, like to arrange a visit when you are back there. There are things I and your family need to discuss." Dumbledore was not waiting for an answer. He simply turned and walked out of the room.