"I gheel lak dah—"

"Draco, dear," spoke Narcissa calmly "Number 1345." Draco scowled. He KNEW that Malfoy's weren't supposed to speak with their mouths full. But how did his parents expect him to eat between explaining what had occurred in the past year and answering questions about the upcoming year?

"Sorry, Mother," he began, "I was saying, I feel like the year went well. I mean, aside from the whole "everyone thought Harry Potter was the heir of Slytherin." Draco realized this sounded an awful lot like he was pitying Harry, so he added quickly "What an insult to Slytherin!" Lucius laughed, while Narcissa surveyed him calmly.

"I'd heard from Altair that you expressed your pureblooded…pride…in a manner rather unbefitting of a schoolboy. Care to speak to that?" Draco seemed to deflate, slightly, remembering the fallout from the 'mudblood' incident. I didn't speak to you for nearly a month, did I? commented Daphne, amusedly You and your big mouth. You learned to think before speaking though, didn't you? Draco grinned. In the past months, his twin bond had grown to the point where he could shield his thoughts from Daphne, but he couldn't ever keep her totally out, if she wanted to share a thought from him. They could correspond over long distances, which was helpful in alleviating his lonesomeness, as Daphne had left school a few days early to go to Germany again with her father. Draco had missed Daphne's reassurances when he realized where Harry had gone…Draco shook his head. His mother had asked a question, after all.

"Mother, I've thought a lot about what I said, and I'm not proud that I betrayed family sentiments, especially in front of so many supporters of the light. I'd like to think I was provoked (she did imply I'd bought my way onto the team, rather than earned my way by pure talent) but I realized afterward, with Daphne's help, that there is no excuse for acting the way I did." Draco sat, chin up, and gazed at his father "I also realized that I don't support the practice of discrimination based on parentage. I know that magical theory is enhanced by upbringing, but I also know that pure magical talent has no rhyme or reason. Look at Filch! His mother was a descendant of Hufflepuff, and he has less magic in his whole body than Granger has in her little toe." Draco met his parents' eyes nervously. Lucius looked down at his potatoes, thinking of what to say.

"Draco, since your early childhood, I've given thought to how I'd face this moment in your life. The moment when you'd make your own decision for your life path. I admit that I've always hoped you'd do the RIGHT thing, but I'm going to keep my opinions to myself, and give you the chance to develop your capacity for independent thought without my influence. I only ask that you not speak of the matter to me until you're fifteen, three years from now, as I have the feeling much will change in that time." A heavy silence fell over the table. For several minutes, no one spoke, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts. Finally—

"Draco, dear, tell me about Quidditch!" Narcissa seemed eager to distract her family from the conversation of a few minutes ago "I heard from Severus that you displayed immense aptitude for the seeker position!" The awkward moment had passed, as Draco began excitedly describing his practices, as well as his growing friendship with Adrian Pucey.

"What about the Slytherin-Gryffindor matches?" Lucius interjected "I've heard every detail about the Ravenclaw match, but you haven't said a word about the game against your rivals." Draco's face clouded briefly with disappointment at his loss, then brightened as he talked about Harry's flying skills.

"He's like nothing I've ever seen before, father. Harry Potter has the most natural flying style that you'd swear he was the one holding the broom in the air, not the other way around!"

"Well, perhaps we should see if Potter is part elf," Lucius mused thoughtfully, "perhaps we could get him disqualified for his illicit advantage." Draco scowled.

"Father, that's not what I meant! I mean—I don't know. I guess I just was so blown away by his flying prowess I got a little…overenthusiastic in my description." Draco paused, chewing some roasted Cornish hen. "The first match, though, did I tell you?" at Lucius' questioning glance, Draco continued "The first match, a bludger was enchanted to follow him, and attack him the whole time. I don't know how he still managed to beat me, all I know is that after that display of skill, I've been promising to practice even more this summer in the hopes of making up some of the ground." Draco took another bite, chewed, and followed with a sip of his sparkling lemonade. Tell them about Lockhart's healing, Draco, came Daphne's voice, They'll think that's funny. Draco obliged, glad he could make his father laugh so hard, but at the same time, recalling the icy trickle of fear when he looked at Harry on the ground, arm limp and useless.

The conversation continued around Quidditch until it was clear Narcissa was bored out of her mind. Draco hastily shifted the conversation to the upcoming year.

"Mum? Why do I have to take Divination, again? I'd so rather take Arithmancy!" Draco pouted, thoroughly annoyed that the Black fixation with stars and constellations extended to useless topics like "where mars was in your sector" and other rubbish. Draco's mother had insisted, while his father had been passive, so Draco enrolled in divination, but under protest. Narcissa ignored Draco's question, giving him another heaping mound of corn soufflé. Draco knew better than to press the topic, quickly changing tact.

"So. I, erm, I'm excited about Care of Magical Creatures?" Draco tried again to talk school to his mother "Yeah, I'm excited. I've always been so interested in the care of grizzlepups. I still don't understand why you never let me have one. They're so cute and fluffy and cuddly and dangerous to my enemies!" Lucius smiled indulgently at his 12-year-old son. "Draco, you KNOW that grizzlepups are only loyal to one person, and thus, dangerous to everyone else. Would you like it if your mother were bitten by your grizzlepup because you were so adamant about getting one?" Draco shook his head. "I thought not."

The rest of the dinner continued in a sort of peaceful silence, as by this point, Draco was really too sleepy to say much else.

Dear Uncle Sev,

I'm home, and well, thanks. I just got your note, and I'm truly glad to hear that Dumbledore might consider you for the DADA position if no other candidate qualifies. I would miss you as a Potions teacher, of course, but I know you'd still be willing to tutor me (if I ask nicely). I really hope Dumbledore doesn't find anyone else, because I know you can teach us a lot about defensive spell work, and from what my father's been hinting, defensive spell work might be a very handy skill within the next few years.

I've not given much thought to visiting you over the break. I'd be happy to see you, but to be honest, I spend enough time in that drafty castle as it is, without spending part of my summer there. Perhaps we could travel instead? I know this is rather presumptuous, but I know Daphne is in the part of Germany where the Granafelter flower blooms, and I thought maybe we could visit? I don't know. Just a suggestion.

I'm also hoping you'd be willing to clear up the rumors surrounding the Chamber of Secrets thing. Did Potter really defeat Slytherin's basilisk? Was it really Tom Riddle? Was the Weasley girl possessed by that diary? Was it Riddle's diary? What's the ministry going to do about it? What's Dumbledore going to do? Is Hogwarts really free from the terror surrounding the Chamber of Secrets, or is this just like 50 years ago when everyone THOUGHT we were safe?

All my love,

Draco

Dear Draco,

1-That's Uncle SEVERUS to you

2-Way too many questions.

Love,

Uncle Severus

Draco frowned, annoyed by his godfather's enigmatic response. Why did he need to be so difficult? The questions weren't hard! Thinking about the Weasley girl, Draco realized that the book he'd seen her scribbling furiously in was in fact, the book with a fang through it his father had described (Lucius hadn't known Draco was eavesdropping when he detailed the story to Nott). Draco further realized that that book was the same book he'd seen in Flourish and Blotts all those months ago. With an increasing sense of dread, Draco thought back to that day. The only person who could have put such an evil book into the Weasley's cauldron was—his father.

Ignoring the moral implications (is it wrong to get even with the Weasley family for their past transgressions?) Draco began to contemplate. Was it really just the Weasley girl that was the target? Or would any young innocent witch work? What if it had been Susannah? Draco realized he felt GUILTY on his father's behalf, because—what a horrible thing to do! His father had basically condemned the girl to her death. Forget the fact that she was a Weasley! No one should die from being possessed by Voldemort!

I see your moral compass is becoming more and more accurate. Daphne observed quietly. I know you love your family—I do too, don't get me wrong, but sometimes you have to recognize that the good can come with a whole lot of bad. Just saying. I know that's touchy feely of me, but I don't care. There you have it.

Daph, I appreciate it, but I'm going to do that whole "examine my life thing tomorrow…I just don't have the energy tonight, Draco replied, wearily

"Dobby? Will you fetch me my pajamas?" Draco waited. "Dobby?" He waited some more. "Merlin Curse it, Dobby! What's taking you so long?" Draco began to search for his pajamas himself, muttering about 'unreliable help these days.' Just as he went to dress, a little elf appeared at his side.

"Master Draco? I's Dolly. Dobby not be working for you no more, because Harry Potter gave him clothes." Dolly shuddered with revulsion as she uttered the word 'clothes' and Draco grinned fondly. House Elves were so eccentric! "Can Dolly get you anything before you go to sleep?" The elf curtsied, her nose touching the ground. When Draco said nothing, she disapparated. Finally, Draco realized the implications of Dobby's freedom. With Harry in such close proximity to the elf, and with Dobby's lack of obligation to the Malfoy family, who knew WHAT the elf was telling Harry about Draco.

"Merlin's hairy knuckle joints!" Draco moaned.