A/N: First off, I'd like to apologise for my long hiatus from writing. To put it mildly ... I couldn't be bothered. But now I'm writing because I want to, not because I have to, if you understand. Unfortunatley, I'm writing this with a migraine and stomach pains, but it's giving me something to do. So, without further ado ...

"Another ten points from Gryffindor. I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room." - Severus Snape

Two years had passed, and the tension within Malfoy Manor had not dislodged. Draco had flourished into a somewhat arrogant thirteen year old - an incredibly smug one at that - who would spend time with his father discussing how the wizarding society would be better without muggleborns - or in their harsh words - Mudbloods. Narcissa had been out that paticular August morning, no were busy - just sitting in the many acres of land they posessed, watching the peacocks Lucius had insisted on buying earlier that month strut about, keeping distance from the perfume-covered, slim woman. Diamonds and other fantastic jewels glimmered from her ears, neck, wrists and fingers, catching the light whenever she tilted her jewels towards the sun. This had become a rather irritating habit, but Narcissa only appeared to do it when she was unsettled about something. And this time, it wasn't about Draco not doing his summer assignments, or Lucius' daily rants about the Ministry - it was a piece of shocking information in a newspaper she constantly read. She hadn't showed her husband or sun the newspaper yet - she wanted some peace and quiet before accusations flew about. Shielding her eyes with one hand from the sun, she continued to read the freshly printed newspaper. A man with messy black hair stared up at her, not mutely - he was screaming and looked possibly deranged. His eyes no longer glittered and his face was rather hollow, his skin accumulating a yellow-ish tinge. She knew who it was even before she read the headline; 'MASS MURDERER ON THE LOOSE: NONE OTHER THAN THE NOTORIOUS SIRIUS BLACK.'
Glaring at the article, she smoothed out the few creases on the page of the article, and continued to read, a rather scathing expression on her face.

It has come to our attention that the killer of Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black, escaped Azkaban Prison last evening. Officals at Azkaban are baffled but nevertheless, this won't hold up the ten thousand galleon reward money to anyone who finds Black! However, in that light, we advise people NOT to go looking for Black, because he could be dangerous to those more unsuspecting. The dementors will be circulating around where we have ideas Black could be, but the dementors will not interrupt day to day business of the wizarding world. Ministry officals will soon be sorting out leaflets advising the best steps to your safety against Sirius Black.

In other news, the Weird Sisters...

She closed the newspaper. She cared not for news of her son's secret favourite band; she cared more for her cousin and the danger he'd gotten himself into - the prat! What the hell was he thinking about, escaping from Azkaban? This would make him the first escapee known to the wizarding world ... shuddering slightly at the aspect of what could happen if found by the Dementors, she stood up, narrowly missing tripping over a peacock, and stumbled somewhat ungracefully into the manor. Draco was sitting at the breakfast table, eating some sort of bread and cheese. Lucius was sat opposite him, writing last minute notes for his memo. At the sound of his wife's footsteps, Lucius looked up expectantly and smiled with perfect white teeth. She returned the smile in what she hoped to be a convincing way, but as she relayed the news, her voice broke. "Have you seen the daily prophet yet, Lucius?"
He shook his head mutely, and she dropped the paper with the correct article on top of his work without speaking. Draco licked his lips, demolishing the remains of his meal, and glanced at the newspaper with curiousity. "Anything good, father? Have they finally decided to imprison mudbloods?"
"Draco," snapped Narcissa, her voice quivering, "do not use language like that in our home - I won't accept it." Lucius, on the other hand, chuckled, still reading the grave news. "No, Draco, unfortunately not ... here's something that may catch your interest though." He flung the newspaper in amusement towards him, and he grabbed it quickly. "Sirius Black, notorious murderer ... who cares?" he said loftily, dropping it onto the table. "He won't come after well connected people like ourselves, will he mother? On another thought, though, his name is familiar." He thought for a moment and then said, "Wasn't that the man who threatened to hex me?"
Lucius looked outraged. "Hex you? When was this boy?"
Narcissa rolled her eyes in despair. "He was only joking, Lucius-"
"When was this?" he demanded, knocking his memo over in uncontrolled temper.
Draco smiled. "Simply years ago, father."
Lucius looked grumpy. "Could of told me that early," he muttered, but then smiled, "But you're right Draco, that man won't come after us. Narcissa, perhaps you had better re-read the line were it states we should not go looking for black." The last seven words were over exaggerated tremendously, and Draco sniggered.
"Aren't you - aren't - don't you care at all?" Narcissa stated furiously, her pale cheeks flooding with anger. She jangled her diamond bracelets impatiently, and Lucius smiled at this frequent glimpse of temper they often saw in her nowadays.
"Not really," Lucius replied, shaking his head, "Why should we bother? He's Harry's godfather, is he not? I'm pretty sure no one will be letting Potter know that little statement ... might drive him loopy."
Narcissa wanted to throw the nearest heavy object over Lucius but restrained herself only just. Draco was grinning at his father with admiration, and Draco decided to push the matter a little too far. "I never knew that father. Put perhaps the statement might just slip."
Lucius and Narcissa simulatenously said: "No, it WON'T!"
Draco scowled. "Why can't I tell him?"
"You just can't, Draco," scolded Lucius, glaring at his son.
"But we all hate him," he whined, "can't we upset him a little more? Please?"
"I don't hate him," said Narcissa coldly, "And no, you may not Draco."
He stood up, kicking his chair aside. "FINE," he snapped, "I'm going to my room."
"You better not tell him, Draco," warned Narcissa as Draco went to the staircase.

Draco just grinned.