A/N: Apologies for my recent absence. I have needed to take time away from Wattpad for my own sanity. But I'm back now and I promise you I haven't abandoned Draya - I am excited about getting this story out.

Thank you for all your support and patience.

Enjoy!

*****

For a man who was already pale, I couldn't help but notice that my father was resembling Casper the Not-So Friendly Ghost when I stepped off the train onto the bustling platform.

"Good year?" He said in his usual drawling tone as he snapped his fingers down at the house-elf at his feet.

The little ugly creature took my trunk from me at once, bowing so low his nose swept the dusty ground.

"Not really," I shrugged. "A student dying usually puts a downer on the year."

I didn't miss the look he exchanged with my mother. I tried to ignore the twist of my guts, not wanting to believe the rumours which were flying about.

Across the platform, my eyes met a pair of slanted black ones. Blaise gave me a brief nod and I found my lips curving into a small smile in return.

"Yes, well," my father sniffed, snapping my attention back to him, "it was a most unfortunate incident, but not one that should have come to much surprise. The Triwizard is renowned for being a dangerous tournament, after all. A fact Dumbledore was perfectly aware of before agreeing to enter his students into it. If anyone's to blame, it's him."

My mother lay a hand on his arm as though to stop him talking any further. Standing in front of her now, I could see how much she'd aged over the past year: the lines around her eyes etched deeper; her pale complexion tinged with greyness, giving her a rather sickly appearance. I tried not to think what had made her this way.

The atmosphere back at the Manor was not much better, either, with father holding a range of ominous meetings of which Mother made sure I was out the way of.

"Why don't you go and have a nice little play in that lovely treehouse of yours?" She would suggest in a falsely bright tone, the smile upon her face strained as the doorbell chimed loudly throughout the mansion.

"Uh- because I'm fifteen, not five." I replied moodily, crossing my arms over my chest and straining my ears to hear whom my father was greeting in the entrance hall. "Hey - is that Professor Snape?"

"Just old friends catching up," Mother said a little too cheerily as she kicked me out the back door. "Now, mind the peacocks! It's mating season!"

Summer sucked massively. The only highlight was receiving my Hogwarts letter and discovering I had become a Slytherin prefect. I quickly wrote to Blaise, telling him so. To my delight, he replied informing me that he had gotten a badge too, and all of a sudden, September seemed highly promising.

I couldn't help but wonder who had made it as Gryffindor prefect. No doubt Harry would be. I wrinkled my nose in disdain. It would mean having to ride the prefects' carriage together, partaking in perfects' duties alongside one another, and sharing the prefects' bathroom...

"HE CHOSE RONALD BLOODY WEASLEY?!"

"It's Bilius, actually," Hermione Granger said pompously, her hands on her hips as her eyes glowered angrily at me.

"Hermione-" Ron gritted out of the corner of his mouth, his face flushing red, "—shut up!"

Well, this was a fucking tragic start to fifth year. Wait until my father hears that Dumbledore has truly lost his marbles this time: Ronald Weasley couldn't even look after a pet rat properly let alone share responsibility for disciplining an entire body of students.

Suddenly, being a prefect had completely lost its charm.

However, I made myself feel better by handing out detentions to some slow witted first years blocking the corridor.

"I'm pretty sure they were simply lost," Blaise pointed out reasonably.

"Lost?" I snapped, "it's a fucking train. They either stay on it or open the door and jump out onto the tracks. Preferably the latter. Imbeciles."

On the plus side, our new Defence teacher appeared to be a vast improvement on the last four. Professor Umbridge. Something told me that she was going to make the school a much better place, especially when it soon became apparent that she wasn't a fan of the Boy Who Lived.

"Guess what?" Daphne panted breathlessly as she came bounding into the common room, throwing herself down onto Theo's lap and crushing his Charms essay in which he'd been halfway through writing. "Apparently Potter went crazy mad at Umbridge in Defence and scored himself an entire week's worth of detentions!"

Theo gave an irritable sigh, pushing Daphne roughly away.

"Daph," he gritted, fiercely attempting to smooth out the crumpled pages, "what have I told you about jumping on me when I'm trying to do my homework?"

Daphne's face immediately fell, and I found myself feeling distinctly sorry for her. Sitting up, I removed my legs from Blaise's lap and scooted along the sofa, making room for her beside me.

"So," I drawled heavily, leaning against the arm as Daphne made herself comfortable between myself and Blaise. "What's Potter been mouthing off about this time, then?"

"Diggory's death, apparently," Daphne gushed out as her eyes shone brightly, the opportunity to share the gossip too enjoyable to ruin her mood. "He's swearing blind that it wasn't an accident and that Diggory was actually murdered by You-Know-Who!"

I could see Theo freeze out of the corner of my eye. I, myself, felt an uneasy tightening sensation in my chest.

"Well, that's daft, of course," Pansy drawled from the armchair where she was lazily flicking through a magazine, "everyone knows You-Know-Who is dead. And even if by some freaky chance he isn't, I mean - wouldn't we know? After all, it's no secret that some of us present are the offspring of his past minions."

Daphne leaned forward, her tone lowered in a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, that's just it - Potter has been saying that his followers have returned too. Says he reckons he can name them all."

Over on the other sofa, Crabbe and Goyle both emitted low growls, simultaneously cracking their knuckles.

"What's up with you two?" Pansy asked, raising her eyebrows. "Has Dray forgotten to feed you again or something?"

"As far as Potter is concerned," Theo snarled angrily, his bloodshot eyes flashing fiercely, "he's nothing but a nasty little cockroach who needs stamping out before he spreads anymore lies."

I felt that same coldness creep over me whenever I was forced into picturing the scene: my father watching on as a boy was killed for simply being in the way.

My collar suddenly felt tight and I quickly tried to loosen it, but my fingers fumbled clumsily over my tie only causing my throat to constrict further.

"Come on, Dray," Blaise murmured, concern flooding his face as he glanced at me, "we ought to get to our prefect duties. I'm sure there are some lost first years just waiting to be unfairly bullied."

I nodded gratefully, not wanting the others to see me panic. The second we reached the corridor, I gulped cool air into my lungs and leaned against the stone wall.

"Dray," Blaise said softly, cupping my upper arms as he moved closer to me, "you need to pull yourself together. I'm not being unkind, but there is no room for weakness anymore."

I stared up at him, trying to stem the burning sensation behind my eyes.

"Why would you care?" I whispered, "why even involve yourself in all this shit-?"

"Because, god damn it, I care about you," Blaise said vehemently, his eyes flashing. "And I can see how frightened this is making you-"

"I'm not a fucking coward, Blaise!"

"Being scared doesn't make you a coward." He paused to sweep his tongue across his lips, his breathing jagged. "But denying how you really feel does."

I could not help but feel irritated, even though I knew he was only trying to help. But what did he understand? He didn't have this constant feeling of underlying fear that if my father succeeded in his endeavours then everything could get dangerous, but that if he didn't, then it could be even worse.

So, I stood tall, and angrily shrugged him off. "Whatever, Blaise. This isn't the fucking Oprah show."

I walked ahead, trying to push down the regret I felt about pushing away the person who was probably the closest friend I had.

But what choice did I have when the shit would inevitably hit the fan?

And it wasn't just me, I thought as I recalled how Theo had literally pushed Daphne off his lap earlier.

Being a Death Eater's kid was a lonely world.

******