"I received a letter from Lucius last night."

Draco lifted his head from out of his potions textbook and stared into his godfather's black eyes, trying and failing to read his blank expression.

It was the afternoon that the remainder of Hogwarts students would arrive at the castle, but Draco had been here all summer. He had been here every summer, actually. Apart from traveling to Hogsmede and Diagon Alley, Draco had not stepped a foot out of Hogwarts since arriving in his first year. The morning after the sorting ceremony, he had received a howler from his mother. He can't quite remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of "you have disgraced our bloodline" and "we hope to never see you again." That meant that once summer rolled around, he was no longer welcome to return to The Manor.

After the school year, Professor Snape allowed him to stay at the Castle with him over the summer with the permission of Dumbledore. Draco stayed in a bedroom connected to an unused classroom, originally designed for a previous professor. Dumbledore kept this arrangement under the table, and the only people who knew about Draco Malfoy's permanent residence at Hogwarts were the professors themselves. His parents had no idea where he was currently living, nor did they ever try to figure it out. Snape regularly wrote to them, being close friends, but never once mentioned Draco.

He had spent the majority of his first year hiding in the library. He had no one to talk to, no one to turn to. After being shunned from his family and the entirety of the Slytherin house, he grew cold and sinister. Potter had tried to talk to him, and every time he had done so, Draco just snapped in return. He had been part of why he ended up where he did, and Draco refuses to believe that might not be true.

After a few weeks of trying to talk to him, he eventually gave up. Everyone had thought Potter was a fool for trying to befriend Draco Malfoy, and they were definitely right. No one would ever be friends with him, he wouldn't dare let anyone get close enough to him. Why put yourself in a position of emotional vulnerability to someone? Nothing good would ever come from it. At best, he would have a feeling of brief happiness. At worst, the same thing would happen all over again, everyone would betray him and hurt him.

He tried to put on this facade of simply being cold and sinister, appearing as emotionless as possible. In reality, he had cried himself to sleep every night until Halloween. He was drowning, unable to scream with all the water in his lungs. His parents, his family, his true house, were all suffocating and silencing him while burying him beneath the waves of disappointment he brought them.

His first Christmas was especially hard. He turned to his books and found an escape. The more he threw himself into his schoolwork, the less he had to think about those around him. The only thing that mattered to Draco was himself and his grades. It paid off in the end, too. He had received the highest marks in his year. He nearly lost to Hermione Granger, but he scored one point higher on his potions final examination than her.

Snape was the only person Draco talked to. He would occasionally have some genuine conversations with some of the other professors, but they were almost always related to academia. He was now just two days away from beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts, and this was all still true.

Draco was curious as to why Snape would mention his father's letter to him. He rarely ever spoke of him, so it must have been of importance.

He closed his book and sat it beside him. Placing his hands on either side of his legs that were swinging off the side of the table of which he was sitting upon. "And what exactly did he say?"

Snape gave a disappointed sigh. "You have a brother."

Draco's heart sank. Of course. Why are you surprised? They disowned you, they have already burned your name off the family long ago. They need someone else to carry on the bloodline. You should be surprised that they waited this long to do this.

"He was born last night. Cephus Lucius Malfoy."

Draco sneered. "What a bloody stupid name, that is. Cephus. God, if I ever procreate, do not let me name my child something as idiotic as Cephus."

He looked disappointed. "You know, a name like that has great value to your family-"

"I have no family." Draco snapped, jumping off the table and grabbing his book.

"Well, perhaps you could change that. I know I am not exactly the most inviting person, I too enjoy keeping to myself. You know that. But I do have people I talk to, people I trust. People I can go out with and enjoy my time. Just because you live an unfortunate life does not mean you must torture yourself."

"Those people that you trust are the same ones that have made me the way I am, the same ones that have now replaced me." His words were bitter and laced with venom.

It seemed that Snape was just constantly disappointed with every word that left Draco's mouth today. "You know I only still keep in touch with them to protect you."

Draco stared at the ground, shifting his weight between his feet. "I should get going to the station. The train will be here soon."

Without another word he grabbed his book and his back and stormed out of the room. He had already moved his belongings in his trunk to his common room and changed into his school robes earlier this morning. He made sure he gave his prefect badge a little polish before checking his watch, when he realized he only had twenty minutes to make it to the Hogsmede station before the rest of the students would be here. If he didn't make it in time, he wouldn't catch the carriages with the rest of the students and someone might put two and two together and realize Draco Malfoy had really been at Hogwarts all summer. He broke into a light jog, trying not to stumble over any rocks on the path as he left the castle.

As he made his way, he let his mind wander. Would this year be any different? Would he spend his days locked in his dormitory with the curtains drawn as the rest of his classmates had the time of their lives? Would he spend more time reading a textbook than actually holding a conversation with anyone? At least he was a prefect, so if anyone bothered him he could just give them a detention. Not that he would use that power, of course, because it would mean he'd have to deal with conflict. He didn't care about the power, he was just thankful that he was recognized as one of the more intelligent students at Hogwarts. And at least he would pass his O.W.L.s, he was sure of that. The only class he was slightly worried about was Care of Magical Creatures, as that was the only class Hermione Granger ever beat him in, third year.

Draco made it to the station just in time to slip into the crowd of students making their way to the carriages.

"Malfoy," he heard a hiss and whipped his head around. Granger, of course. "Where were you? All the prefects were supposed to be in the compartment-"

"I know, I know." Draco cut her off. "I must have had something horrible before getting on the train, I spent the whole ride in the lavatory. I am feeling better now, though. Perhaps it was just motion sickness."

She gave him a quizzical look, then scoffed. "Oh, alright then," and the two of them headed to the prefect's carriage in silence. Draco didn't mind Granger, she was always friendly enough towards him, even after she thought he was the one who sent the basilisk out to kill the muggle-born students their second year. He also had some respect for her, she was the only one who could keep up with him in school.

They climbed in the carriage with the Hufflepuff prefects, Granger making polite conversation with them while Draco stared off in the distance. He fixated on the carriage in front of them, containing Potter and one of the Weasleys.

"Potter also looks awfully ill, doesn't he?" Draco asked Granger when they started moving. It was true, he had turned a sickly white and seemed even paler than his friend. He kept taking double-takes at the empty space in front of the carriage, as if he didn't ride the same one every single year.

"He seemed fine when he got off the train," she remarked. "I'll have to ask him at dinner." Draco nodded and tried to not pay attention to Potter, but he couldn't help it. Potter seemed to calm down as he began talking to another student in the carriage. Everything clicked when Draco realized he was talking to Lovegood, and he had probably just seen the thestrals for the first time. Draco had never seen them himself, though they're mentioned briefly in Hogwarts, a History. Of course, everyone skips over that chapter, so there is always some poor student who comes to Hogwarts after a particularly traumatizing summer and freaks out upon seeing them. And that student was Potter.

He began to calm down, letting his shoulders drop and his body relax. His robe slipped down his shoulders, and even in the dark, Draco could still see the bruises peaking out on his back. Once they got to the feast and sat down at the Gryffindor table, Draco could clearly see more bruises on his wrist, a busted lip, and dark circles under his eyes.

It was like this every year. Every year he'd seem so disappointed to go home, and whenever he returned, he was covered in cuts and bruises, and his eyes shone a little less. Draco didn't know why he cared so much, he despised Harry Potter. But for whatever reason, Draco felt sorry for him, and even a little hurt whenever he saw the bruises.

Draco politely clapped through the sorting ceremony, listening to bits and pieces of the conversations around him. The Weasley twins were planning some passive prank against the Slytherins, a few second years were complaining about not being able to eat yet, and Potter, Granger, and Weasley were talking about a woman named Umbridge, who he presumed to be the new professor sitting at the staff table.

Draco zoned out during the feast, not even listening to any of the speeches that were given. He picked at his food, his mind empty, until it was time to lead the first years to the common room with the other prefects.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia!" The door to the Gryffindor common room swung open, and one by one, they entered the common room. The first years 'ooo'ed and 'aah'ed at the charming atmosphere, muttering to themselves.

"This is so pretty!"

"-and the fireplace! Oh, I just can't wait to curl up with a book in front of it-"

"- but I can't believe I'm in a house with mudbloods though. And even our prefect is one? How could they ever let-"

Draco whipped his head around at the group of first years who had just crawled through the portrait hole. "Who said that?" He yelled.

He felt his cheeks grow hot as he glared at his fellow housemates. He clenched his fists and his jaw, feeling his eyes ready to pop out of his head.

Everyone froze, including the upperclassmen. Most people had never even heard him speak before, let alone raise his voice.

No one said anything. "I asked a question, and I expect an answer."

The boy near the front of the group shyly raised his hand, and Draco bent over so he has face to face with him. "Now tell me why you thought it was okay to say that word, and why you thought it was okay to say about another person?"

"I-I didn't think it was that bad-"

"I do not care!" He shouted, standing back up. "That kind of thinking is severely outdated, to begin with, and that word is very disrespectful, and quite frankly, very racist. If I hear you, or anyone else for that matter, ever use that word again, especially while talking about another student, you will receive a detention, and it will not be a pretty one. Is that understood?"

The first years were frozen in terror, but finally slowly nodded their heads. Even the other students around the common room were shocked, Potter's jaw had dropped.

"Fantastic. And welcome to Gryffindor house, by the way, I hope you have a splendid evening." And with that he stormed off to his room, leaving a dead silent common room behind him.

*~*~*~*

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