A/N: First, forgive the very long author's note and bear with me; I will stick only to the important stuff here. This fanfiction is a sequel to my earlier Death Eaters Don't Cry. That story recounts Draco's struggles against Voldemort's rule and his narrow escape from the Dark Lord to Hogwarts and Dumbledore. This story picks up in March of 1996 (OotP), two weeks after the last one left off. Yet, this story was born before the publication of Book 5 and so, though I have tried to remain as true as possible to JKR's timeline, this story diverges from hers on some points. Know, then, that the twelve Death Eaters have recently escaped Azkaban, the Order of the Phoenix is working from Grimmauld Place, and Harry's dreaming about the Department of Mysteries, but Umbridge is thankfully still no more than Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Percy still living at the Burrow and on speaking terms with his family, though not an Order member, I don't think (he's not at school anymore, of course, so that's not an important detail). With these deviations in mind, and the previous story's basic plot in your back pocket, I leave you now to enjoy the second story in my fanfiction series. Cheers! No, one last point: Fanfiction's latest updates have again messed with my formatting. I imagine one day, I will update all of the chapters, but for now there are chapters without any chapter breaks in them. If anyone knows what keyboard symbols are not cut in the HTML, PLEASE let me know. I don't want to have to upload every chapter of every story and then edit them to add in an aesthetically unpleasant gray line. Thank you!

Yours forever, Tsona

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, concepts, etc., yada yada, though my Draco and my Malfoy Manor differ perhaps enough from JKR's that I could conceivably take some credit, though for safety's sake I won't. I do, however, own Alana O'Toule, Callous Boor, and several minor characters too unimportant to be mentioned here. More importantly I must tell you that Kari Ollivander is the brain child of my dear friend Ryuujin Dragon King (also known as Syrinx Flute), and I know from past experience, she would like me to inform you it is pronounced Kar-ee not Kare-ee.

Special thanks goes to wolfy 65, who beta-read this story (in its original form) for me. Thanks so much, girl! You've no idea, really... The Draco inside my head thanks you too! ;-)

When shall I be dead and rid

Of the wrong my father did?

How long, how long, till spade and hearse

Put to sleep my mother's curse?

-T. H. White, The Queen of Air and Darkness

Draco sat, staring fiercely into the mashed potatoes he was substituting for a full meal, having little appetite nowadays, and continued to do so even as a bit of potato, flung from some Slytherin's spoon, splattered across his shoulder. He'd found it was easier to ignore their sniggers and raucous laughter if he was concentrating on something else, like the model of his father's face he was trying to make out of the lumpy side dish for the sole purpose of crushing it mercilessly beneath the prongs of his golden fork.

He had expected better treatment from the Slytherins, to whom he had once been a hero of sorts, a standard bearer if naught else, someone to rally beside rather than against. He could only suppose that the cruelty he encountered now at their hands came from news that he had deserted the Death Eaters. Even with many Death Eaters shipping their children to Durmstrang Institute, where the Dark Lord had taken up residence with those Death Eaters unable to come out in public, either because they were fugitives or, in the case of Wormtail, were supposed to be dead, there were still enough here to begin rumors.

He had hoped too that the staff might be willing to offer him the second chance he'd come to Hogwarts in search of. Having Apparated to the school several weeks ago, he had run straight to Dumbledore with his confession. He had offered Dumbledore information, offered allegiance, and had been granted a bed in return. He had hoped Dumbledore's trust and lenience would be enough for the staff, but it was not reflected in the cold glares, the curt responses he received from most of the professors. The caretaker Argus Filch it seemed had set his cat, Mrs. Norris, to tail Draco in the hopes of catching him at Dark magic and having an excuse to drag out his whips and thumbscrews before shipping him to Azkaban.

From the other Houses, he had really expected no better. His lengthy absence from the school and sudden return were bound to raise suspicions. Even as he lay in the hospital wing, hidden behind cotton curtains and given a wider than usual berth by the nurse, Madam Pomfrey, the rumors about him had flown through the school so that by the time Dumbledore told him he could return to the Slytherin dorms and classes, the whole school seemed to know that Draco Malfoy had been trained as a Death Eater and most seemed convinced that he had come back to Hogwarts as a spy. Draco suspected these rumors were started by Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. He had run into them on his way to Dumbledore and, even as soon as that, Potter had accused him of as much. The Great Hall, though Draco tried to avoid it at its most crowded times (today, for example, he had rushed to lunch, having already packed his schoolbag for afternoon classes, in the hopes of getting away before the bulk of the school could arrive), was filled with an odd, malicious buzzing and, every so often, some first year would stand up to catch a better view of him. Even the Hufflepuffs, known for being just, were not bothering to keep their voices down as they gossiped, passing snide comments about him behind his back, or even straight to his face.

"He's spying, 'Lani! Do you walk around all day with yours ears shut?" hissed a girl behind Draco.

"Really, Kari, I'm sure-"

Draco didn't bother to glance about, not caring who it was, and at any rate not up to a retort.

"Alana, don't!" another voice added.

Draco shoved some of the mashed potatoes into his mouth. He nearly spit them out when there was a light tap upon his shoulder; his fork clattered to the plate when he jumped. He spun around, his hand dived for his wand, and whipped it from his pocket. He kept it near his lap, but pointed at the girl who hovered behind him. She had a forced smile, worried brown eyes, and locks of tawny hair that her hands twisted as she looked down on him. Draco didn't recognize her.

"Er, hi, um, Malfoy- Draco?" she said awkwardly.

The babble of the Slytherins nearest him had stopped as had some of the talk from the Gryffindor table beside theirs. Draco's eyes slid past the girl's school robes and toward two very white, Gryffindor faces staring at the pair of them. One he recognized from her freckles, secondhand robes, patched schoolbag, and brilliant red hair as Ginerva Weasley, the youngest of the hated clan; the other with a mop of spiked brown hair was unfamiliar.

"You're a Gryffindor," Draco said slowly.

"Er, yeah, I am," the girl confirmed.

"What are you doing here? Come to ask me if I'm a Death Eater? Have you a death wish?"

"No!" the girl gasped.

"Go back, Gryffindor," sneered one of the Slytherins seated across from Draco, along the row; even the Slytherins tended to give him a wide berth, leaving seats nearest him empty. Draco thought he recognized Callous Boor's voice, but didn't look around to find out, too busy scrutinizing the girl's face. "We don't like your kind here."

"I know that," the girl said, her fists balling by her sides. Her thick twist of hair came undone slowly. "But apparently you don't like Malfoy here, either."

"Keep me out of this, Gryff," Draco muttered, warning.

The girl's dark eyes snapped onto Draco at once. There was a fire behind them, an intensity that Draco thought might scald him. "Do you want to stay here with them?" she asked suddenly.

Though it didn't burn, that blaze did daze him. Just a little. "What?"

"I can't imagine you like being flung with bits of food-" Draco colored and quickly brushed the mashed potato from his shoulder "-so come and sit with us and-"

"Sit with you?" Draco asked, eyes narrowing. "At Gryffindor?"

"Beats sitting here, doesn't it?"

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "Between potatoes and curses, Gryff, I'll take the potatoes." He spun back around in his seat and lowered his head over his plate, a clear dismissal he thought, but the girl remained, her voice a low murmur.

"No one will curse you, Malfoy."

"Someone really ought to introduce you to your own House. Does the name Potter ring a bell? Or Weasley?"

"They're not here yet," the girl said. "Come and sit with us."

"Bet your friend Ginerva won't like it."

"She'll live," the girl assured him.

"Shame."

"You coming or aren't you?" the girl snapped.

"I hit a nerve," he grinned.

"Maybe they're right. You are impossible."

Draco thought he heard her footsteps pounding back to her seat and glanced up to see the leering grins of the Slytherins across from him, further along the bench.

"You must really look awful," a sixth year girl with a hard face sneered. "I mean, I'd noticed- we've all noticed- but when the Gryffindor girls are taking pity on-"

"Bug- off," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"Ooh!" the girl's friend squealed from beside her. "Whatcha gonna do to me, eh, Malfoy? What friends are you going to call on now? I mean, who would miss you if-"

"Gryffindor!" Draco jumped from his seat, snatched up the strap of his schoolbag, and crossed the gap between their two Houses. The girl with the tawny hair looked around and a grin spread across her face, smoother now in the company of her friends and House. "That offer still available?"

She positively beamed as she shifted sideways and made room for him between herself and the girl with spiked hair. Draco was glad it was not between herself and Ginerva Weasley.

He let himself flop down into the seat before glancing nervously around. His gaze was greeted by Gryffindors' glowers so that this view looked not much different from the one he had had of Slytherin, though perhaps a bit more red. He glanced around the backs of the girls and up at the staff table. Professor Dumbledore was talking to Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, but his eyes were on Draco and the corners of his mouth twitched from beneath his white mustache. Snape's dark eyes were on him too, their expression unreadable, and McGonagall's mouth had become quite thin.

"Um, Malfoy, you okay?" asked the girl from before.

"New view of the world. The hall looks different from here," he said smoothly, looking back at her. Her brown eyes were a little round, even though she was smiling. Did Draco really look so awful? He tried to catch a glimpse of himself in her eyes, but wouldn't trust the drawn cheeks and purple shadows of the reflection, distorted as it was.

"Erm, in a good way?"

"You're not very good at small talk, are you?"

"Listen, Malfoy, you creep," Ginerva Weasley snarled from beside her friend, who looked a little discomfited. "I'd be a mite more grateful if I were you. Alana's about the only person in this school likely to give you the time of day, so-"

"Is this a habit of yours?" Draco asked the girl, Alana. "Trusting the untrustworthy?"

"Well- I-"

"Yes," said her spiky-haired friend from Draco's other side, buttering herself a roll. "She's still convinced Sirius Black must have had his reasons." The girl rolled her eyes toward the enchanted ceiling, a pearly white today with the low cloud cover and strong sun behind.

"She has good sense, then," Draco said, reaching for a bun. Ginerva Weasley looked away.

"He's not-?" Alana had flushed pink and her eyes had grown wide.

"No," Draco said. "But that's a long story and you'll soon have to leave for class, I think."

"Watch it, Malfoy," Weasley grumbled.

Draco shot her a glance- her brown eyes darted away from him. "I'm sorry, Weasley, did you want to tell that story? I imagine you know, close as you are to Potter."

"Shut up," Weasley said again.

"So, Alana, is it?" Draco asked, looking away from Ginerva.

Alana nodded and gestured to Weasley. "I guess you already know Ginny." Ginny scowled at him in response to his curt nod. "And this is Kari Ollivander." The girl on Draco's other side waggled a few fingers at him.

"Alana what?" he pressed.

"O'Toule," was Alana's reply, but Draco's head whipped around at the sound of another voice.

"Harry, you're not supposed to be seeing these things anymore!"

Hermione Granger's voice was a whine and the face she revealed by pushing aside a lock of bushy brown hair was anxious as she stared into Harry Potter's stiff expression. The green eyes behind their round glasses were hard, but unfocused.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ronald Weasley, Ginvera's next elder brother said as he continued up the small corridor between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. His blue eyes roved away across the table, searching for seats no doubt. Draco stiffened.

"Now you're going to get it," Ginerva sneered.

"Ginny!" Alana hissed.

But Ginny was right. Perhaps her flaming hair had drawn her brother's eyes for they grew wide as they caught Draco's glance. "OI!"

Draco quickly looked away. His hands clenched in his lap.

Weasley was in front of them before Draco had had time to blink; he might have Apparated, but Draco had heard his heavy, running footfalls. The redhead towered over Draco where he sat, as he demanded of his younger sister, "Ginny, what the-"

Potter was beside him now, shorter but at least as menacing with his narrowed eyes and mop of black hair that seemed to blot out the weak sunlight streaming from the high windows. "You'd better have a good explanation for this."

"I argued against it," Ginny said easily.

"Nice to have your support, Gin," Alana muttered from beside Draco. He chanced her a quick sideways glance. She was staring into her lap.

"You did this, O'Toule?" Weasley demanded.

"I did." Alana's head came up and her brown eyes met Ron's wide, blue ones steadily.

"Why?" Weasley gasped.

Potter's gaze was fixed on Draco instead of Alana, trying to catch his glance.

"I had to!" Alana cried suddenly and Draco found his head whipping round to stare at her. Draco noticed that several other Gryffindor faces spun toward them, too, to listen. A hush was falling over the surrounding seats. Alana pressed on, perhaps oblivious to these ominous signs. "Listen, Ron, I really don't think- The Slytherins don't like him either. He can't be so bad, then, can he?"

"No one likes a traitor," Potter growled darkly.

Though Draco kept his gaze averted, afraid his retinas would be burned by the heat of Potter's glower, he couldn't resist muttering, "No, Potter, they don't."

"Besides-" Potter continued. Draco couldn't be sure he had heard his comment, but his eyes seemed to darken even further, the fire behind them char more of the brilliant green. "-I notice about ten percent of the Slytherins seem to have vanished. Where are they, Malfoy, eh? Did you leave them back with your precious Voldemort?"

All of them shuddered, except Draco noted with some surprise, the Mudblood Granger, who was at Ron's shoulder now too.

"Why would I tell you that, Potter?"

"Hermione," Ron demanded suddenly, "isn't there something in the Hogwarts rule book about sitting at the wrong table?"

"Oh no, don't!" Alana moaned. "Don't send him back!"

"No, Ron, I'm afraid not." Draco chanced a glance at Granger. She looked quite at a loss and ran a hand through her tangle of brown locks. "Percy used to go sit with the Ravenclaws all the time, remember? When he was with Penelope."

"Oh yeah. But," Weasley said, perking up almost immediately, "can't we just order him to-"

"No." It was Potter who answered. "Rules won't help us. Not where Malfoy's concerned. He wouldn't obey them anyway. Would you?"

"Rule breaking has always been more your thing, Potter, I generally don't get caught at-"

"Rules won't help," Potter overpowered him. "But I bet threats could."

"Threats? Potter, honestly, does it have to come to-"

"I'm wise to you, Malfoy. I know what you came back for."

"For the last, bloody time, I'm not a spy!"

"Anything you ask O'Toule, anything you try and get out of her, Ginny will let us know, won't you, Ginny?"

Alana followed Harry's eyes to Ginny.

"I'm afraid Ron might insist, Alana," Ginny said quietly.

"Right," Potter went on. "So you're being watched. And not just by Ginny. By me and Ron and Hermione too."

"Oh, Harry-" Hermione interjected.

Potter leaned further over the table, staring at Draco. It had the desired effect: Draco met Potter's eyes and held them, the others fading from view in the blackness of his eyes. "And if you hurt any of them- especially Ginny- I will personally hex you with such hexes you'll wish you'd never laid eyes on Hogwarts, you understand?"

Draco thought that perhaps he ought to feel some nervousness, but instead his blood was boiling just below the surface of his skin, the fire, he thought, was in his eyes, and his fingers tingled with a desire to close about the hawthorne wood of his wand, which he had dropped back in his pocket when he had left Slytherin. "I'm sure, Potter," he said quietly, keeping the fight between Potter and himself, "that the Dark Lord's nothing compared to you, is he?"

"Don't give me that!" Potter snarled. "I bet you've spent the last few months just cozying right up to him, haven't you, Malfoy? I'm surprised he doesn't have you on a leash yet. Or is it just hidden?" Potter pointed a sharp finger at Draco's left forearm.

Draco drew his arm further toward him, his mouth falling open, and tugged at the sleeve to ensure it kept covered the gruesome tattoo etched there. It was as though Potter could see through the tight knit of his grey jumper. "Don't- Don't you dare, Potter- You've no idea what I've-"

Draco would have dearly loved to have shouted his whole story at Potter at that moment, to have acquitted himself once and for all, to have been able to see the stunned look on Potter's stupid face, but what, he reminded himself as his teeth ground together, if the Slytherins didn't have the whole story? What if they reacted worse to the truth than the scattered fragments that they were likely to have heard? Draco wasn't about to hand them the quill for his own death warrant.

Potter smirked. "I seem to have touched-" he said, emphasizing the word, "on something. Yes, I'm sure he must make life so difficult for you," Potter continued. "What, are the Death Eaters' robes not hand-tailored?"

"Shut up, Potter! Don't you-"

There was a slight cough behind Draco and he looked up into Professor McGonagall's stern face below the brim of her tartan hat. "Is there a problem here?" Her sharp eyes roved over all of them.

"No, Professor," Potter said quickly.

"Good," McGonagall said crisply. "Then, Potter, I suggest you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger go find your seats. It will reflect poorly on me and your House if you're late for Potions."

"Yes, Professor," Potter said again, dropping his gaze.

Professor McGonagall turned away back toward the staff table and Potter, after watching her for some paces, shot Draco another glare and murmured, "Remember what I said, Malfoy," before leading his friends further down the row.

"Servile git," Draco muttered to the golden plate with his half-eaten bun.

Potter's eyes swung round to him and his lip rose in a snarl, but he didn't dare draw his wand. Draco smiled at the plate.

"I'm sorry," Alana whimpered beside him.

Draco looked around. He had almost forgotten she was there, except that, even as his vision tunneled in his combat with Potter, he had felt a presence beside him- something that was quickly becoming rare- the cotton of her open robe just brushing against his jeans. "For what?"

"I didn't mean to get you into trouble. I only meant-"

"Those three aren't trouble," Draco assured her, forcing a weak smile. "Just annoying gits who are too full of themselves to think they're ever wrong about anything."

"They're not!" Ginerva argued quickly. "They're better than you are, anyway," she spat.

"Of course," Draco sighed, "because if your precious Potter's involved-"

"My what?"

Draco smirked. "'His eyes are as green as a pickled toad-'" he quoted beneath his breath.

Ginerva turned a dangerous red from the scooped neckline of her jumper to the tips of her flaming hair. "You-" she growled. "You-" But apparently, Ginny could not think of any name foul enough for Draco, who merely smiled in her direction. "I'll see you both at Hagrid's!" she fumed and snatched her bag from the floor. She managed to whack Draco firmly across the back with it as she charged past.

"Ginny! Wait!" Kari Ollivander leapt from her seat, grabbed her bag too and dashed after her friend.

Draco watched her go, then turned to Alana, who sat still in her seat, her eyes on Ginerva's head of red curls before it was lost beyond the wide doorway to the Great Hall. She did not seem to notice Draco's stare.

"Well?" Draco asked her quietly. "Aren't you going to go after her too?"

Alana dragged her brown eyes away from her friends, glimpsed Draco, then quickly turned her gaze into her lap. "She just needs some time to cool off."

"I won't mind," Draco prodded. "I've grown used to it."

Alana lifted her dark eyes to his face, watched him from behind lighter lashes. "I won't leave you, Malfoy. Unless you want me to, but I don't think you do."

Draco shrugged, but said nothing, merely took another bite from the bun on his plate.

"You shouldn't have done that," Alana said seriously, her dark eyes on him.

Draco felt his smile slip a little to match hers. "Maybe not," he agreed. "I'm still getting the hang of this "being good" concept. It was a laugh though, that song."

Draco could tell Alana was trying to bite back a grin as she sunk her teeth into her lower lip. "She worked hard on that," she said, not quite managing this time to sound grave. "And besides, she was only eleven."

Draco and Alana parted company some ten minutes later in the entrance hall.

"Listen, Malfoy, if you want a seat at dinner-"

"You had better be careful, O'Toule," he smiled. "People will start wondering about you too."

Alana frowned at him. "It's just an offer."

"I'll think about it," Draco promised.

Alana seemed to know this was best she was going to get from him. She beamed at him again, a kind of brilliant flash that Draco, unused to such expressions, was finding a little blinding; he cut his eyes away from her. "Have a good class, then!"

She took off through the crowd, but she had not gone more than a few steps, when Draco stopped her. "Hey, Gryff!"

She turned curious eyes on him.

"Tell Weasley I'm- Well, tell her I maybe ought not to have-"

Alana's smile flashed again. "I'll tell her, Draco," she said and skipped out the oaken front doors. Draco watched her, her tawny hair flouncing against her shoulders as she jogged down the stairs.

It was with a sinking heart that Draco turned away from the weak sunlight and headed across the entrance hall to the narrow staircase into the dungeons for Potions class.

A/N: Well, there you are. I think this opening chapter may be much better than the previous one. I'm thankful because I wasn't sure if editing DEDC was really any improvement. Perhaps you can't compare, but all the same I'd welcome any comments, even flames if that's what you have for me, about this chapter (and all the ones following). Cheers! Carry on.

Yours forever, Tsona