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Although there had been a lot of tension between the three Malfoys during the last weeks of summer break and Draco knew that the event would end on a rather depressing note, Draco was happy to spend time with his father at the Quidditch World Cup. His mother had decided to stay at home, having had enough excitement for one summer.

Draco and his father talked amiably about Quidditch. It was a passion they both shared. Draco told his father how he had caught the snitch in school right out under Potter's nose and how they had consequently won the house cup. His father told Draco that he was proud of him. Then they talked about the World Cup and bought tons of merchandise - Draco made sure to buy something for each of his friends. They had fun.

All that changed when they arrived in their box.

"Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places…," Draco could hear Fugde say, "ah, and here's Lucius!"

Draco and Lucius came face to face with Potter, a couple of Weasleys, Granger and Sirius. How could Draco have forgotten the company he had had to endure the first time he had been here? But then again, the Cup itself and the subsequent events had been so memorable that it was easy to forget such details, especially now as they did not bother him so much anymore. But his father would certainly not feel the same way Draco now felt about the Gryffindor majority in their box.

Draco was brought back into the real world by Sirius pulling into into a bear hug. "Good to see you, Draco."

Draco returned the hug but was aware of how his father had grown tense.

"Ah, Fudge," said Lucius, shaking the hand of the Minister. "How are you? I don't think you've met my son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and shaking Draco's hand. "Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk – Obalonsk – Mr. – well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else – you know Sirius Black and Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Lucius' eyes swept over the two men. "Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Draco flinched. Hearing his father speak so cruelly was like looking into a mirror. This was how he had been his whole life. A conceited git. Draco felt ashamed every time he was reminded of his original past and how it had taken a full-on war, a murder attempt and a couple of corpses before he realized how wrong he had been. He thought on how the night would end and felt cold dread overcome him.

"Oh, shut up," growled Sirius and Draco shot him a pleading look.

Fudge, who hadn't been listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How – how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile. Sirius glared at Lucius but didn't say anything.

Lucius stared at Hermione, his lip curled.

Draco sat himself between his father and Sirius and until the game started everyone remained on edge.

Surprisingly, during the match everyone in the box seemed to forget their rivalry and just enjoyed the moment. Why couldn't things always be like that?

After the game, Lucius grabbed Draco by the arm and dragged him out of the box.

Thankfully, the celebration soon took Lucius' mind off things and he celebrated with his son and the other purebloods who were present.

"Draco!" yelled Theodore Nott, as soon as he had spotted Draco among the masses. "This was so awesome! Best day ever."

"Hey, Theo," smiled Draco. "Looks like you owe me some money."

"No shit – you guessed all the results!"

Draco laughed. "Maybe I should have taken Divination after all."

"Urgh," Theodore wrinkled his nose but then laughed as well. "I heard they cleared Black of all charges. How do you feel about that?"

"Pretty good. He's here, too."

"Really? Why aren't you with him?"

Draco looked over to his father who was talking to the older Nott. "I don't think my father would be on board with that idea."

"Yeah, well, parents don't always know best, I think," muttered Theodore absentmindedly.

"Don't be so serious," Draco said, "let's enjoy the party."

They spent the rest of the day celebrating and having fun.

But at night, once the festivities were – at least for everyone underage – over, Draco couldn't fall asleep. He knew what was going to happen. Just, this time, his father hadn't told him about it. The first time around he had told him. But this time it was just vague hints that something would happen.

He lay in his bed in their tent, wide awake, worrying. Would things still be the same? Would they be worse? Or better?

He jumped out of his bed when the screaming started. He looked around, but the tent was empty – his father was gone.

Draco left the tent.

People were running away into the woods, fleeing. Draco could hear loud jeering, roars of laughter and drunken yells.

Hooded and masked figures were walking together, levitating four struggling bodies.

Draco didn't look their way. He knew who they were and what they were doing to them. The first time around, he found the struggling muggles funny; this time he felt repulsed by the whole thing, his father and himself. The whole thing was sick and wrong. How could he have ever found that amusing?

He decided to go and look for Theo.

He made his way through the tents, shouting his name. He knew the Nott's tent was closer to the forest but had no idea where exactly it was.

He saw Sirius Black run past him in the direction of the Death Eaters, and then bumped into someone.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" muttered none other than Ron Weasley.

Something was wrong. The last time, the first time, this happened, they hadn't been running towards the commotion but away from it.

Draco bristled. "What are you doing here? You should get out of here," he said, looking at Potter and Granger, who were standing behind Ron.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Hermione defiantly.

"Don't be daft," Draco drawled. "They're after muggles."

"Hermione's a witch," scoffed Ron.

Draco glared at him. "Never said she wasn't." Draco really didn't feel like he had time for this. "There's a bunch of Death Eaters attacking. Do you really think it's a good idea for the boy who lived and a muggleborn to run in there?"

"What are Death Eaters?" asked Potter.

Draco frowned at him. "Have you never bothered to open a book and read about what happened to your parents? Death Eaters are the followers of the D- of You-Know-Who."

"Wouldn't you know all about that?" asked Ron and Draco glared at him.

"We are not just gonna stand by and do nothing when they are attacking innocent people, Malfoy," huffed Potter.

"Fine then," Draco sighed. "Go ahead and get yourself killed." He wondered how necessary Potter really was for winning the war. Perhaps with his knowledge, Dumbledore could bring Voldemort down on his own. He looked at them for a few seconds. "Have any of you seen Nott?"

"What? No. So you're going to run?" Potter asked.

"Coward," mouthed Ron.

"Rather a coward than an idiot. A dead idiot, by the way," hissed Draco. "Do you think you running in there is going to do any good? Do you think you'll be able to beat some of the Dark Lord's right hand men? Do you even know how shield charms work? Or are you going to hope that the excellent Defense lessons we've had so far will save you?"

"This isn't about winning," said Hermione. "And it's not about being safe. It's about doing what's right. Fighting for what's good and right."

Harry nodded. "You might be able to run and hide from this today, Malfoy. But you won't always be. One day you'll be in a situation where you have to choose to either fight the problem or become part of the problem. Ignoring it is not an option. You'll have to pick a side."

That came out of the blue. He didn't really know what to say. He had kind of hoped that he could stay somewhere in between until the Dark Lord actually returned. Defying the Dark Lord by giving Dumbledore crucial information was very different from outright dueling his father. He'd have to publicly pick a side soon and although he already knew which side that would be, he still dreaded that day. It would be the day he'd lose his family and many of his friends. It was hard to know that their love was conditional. That they wouldn't love him no matter what. He knew that it would eventually come to this, but right now he did not feel ready to burn these bridges and cut all ties to his family. He still loved them, after all.

"Easy for you to say," Draco hissed, turning to leave.

"Going to your father? He is one of them, right?" called Weasley after him. "Coward!"

Draco didn't turn around. They would probably run after Black and get all four of them killed. Stupid Gryffindors. Couldn't even wait for His return to die.

The last comments had stung more than Draco would have liked to admit.

As he made his way through the camping site, he finally found a green tent that looked vaguely familiar. He tentatively looked inside.

There, Draco found Theo pacing, alone.

"This can't be happening. Not yet. No… I'm not ready… I can't do this…" His words echoed how Draco had just felt talking to Potter and his friends.

When he noticed Draco, he stopped rambling and looked wary.

"Theo?"

Nott clenched and unclenched his fists. "Yeah?" he asked.

"We need to get out of here," he whispered frantically, grabbing Theo's arm, but Theo pulled away. Apparently, Draco had been correct in his assessment that Theo had spent more time with him because he had distanced himself from his old world view. But distancing yourself from something and actually turning your back on it are two different things and trust was hard earned in the house of the snakes.

"It's dangerous," Draco added, "they are burning down tents. Somehow I doubt they'll check if someone's in them before they do that."

Theo nodded, following Draco out into the war zone. People were still running and screaming.

They ran towards the forest until they were out of breath and in a somewhat secluded area.

Theo fell to his knees, breathing heavily.

"Everything all right?" Draco asked, concerned.

"No," Theo said, shaking. "Are you one of them?"

"One of whom?" Draco was nervous. One Death Eater attack and suddenly everyone was talking about sides again. This wasn't a war. Not yet.

Theo narrowed his eyes. "I was always so sure about you," he rambled. "Being just like your father, hating Potter and mudbloods and everything. I'm not anymore, though. Something about you changed."

Draco wanted to say something but could hear a group of people approaching.

Theo and Draco hid behind some trees, watching how a few Death Eaters, their fathers included, surrounded a family of muggleborns. Draco watched his father levitating the father of the family and one of the others yelled "Crucio".

The children screamed as they watched their father writhe in pain.

Draco felt disgusted.

He could feel Nott jump into action next to him, so he grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Leave me be," Theo hissed. "Maybe you can… maybe you can just stand by and watch them do this, but I can't! And I won't."

Draco could hear someone yell "Avad-".

Theo shook off Draco and jumped out of their hiding place, sending a stinging hex towards one of the Death Eaters.

Draco could hear Theo yell, "Leave them be!"

"Theodore," growled his father.

Draco gulped. That hadn't happened the last time. This was worse. No matter how tonight would end, it definitely would be worse than it had originally been.

"Why, Nott," muttered Draco's father, amused, "looks like your son's gone and turned traitor."

"I thought better of you, son," continued the older Nott. "Step aside."

"N-no! They haven't done anything to you and I won't let you hurt them."

Draco was quite impressed by how brave Theo was. Brave and stupid. He was signing his own death certificate. Five Death Eaters versus one 14-year-old, Draco didn't need Divination to know how that would end.

"Step aside or you will regret it," roared Nott Senior.

"No!"

By now the muggleborn family had seized the opportunity and scurried away.

"Traitor! You are no son of mine," said Nott, his voice cold. "Crucio!"

TBC