Draco's Letter

Father. Dad. Daddy. Lucius. Mr. Malfoy,

My apologies, but I don't seem to know how I should refer to you. I wonder which would be the most appropriate: Father, for formal and respectable pureblood gatherings? Dad, as I called you until I was around seven, when I was given the talk of 'respectability' and 'addressing one's elders'? I made the mistake of calling you Daddy, when I was around three; let us just say I learned not to make the same mistake again. There's always the failsafe and reliable Mr. Malfoy, perfect for detachment and impersonality. Yes, Mr. Malfoy; No, Mr. Malfoy; does absolutely everything meet your personal pureblood seal-of-approval, Mr. Malfoy?

Of course, I have not seen you for over a year. Should I now refer to you as Prisoner 24601? Or would that be disrespectful? Funny, how stating the truth often goes hand-in-hand with being discourteous.

So, how is life treating you these days? I expect a lot better than it did Aunt Bella. You're lucky, really. A cosy, private cell; three meals a day. No war, death nor fear of the Cruciatus curse. Unless that's one the Aurors slipped by us. Lucky, indeed; I suspect the shock will be great if you are ever released.

Our Master is not pleased with you.

Our Master. Yes, that's right: Ours. Dear Father - yes, I find that the most appropriate form of address at this moment - when you failed to retrieve that prophecy you also set in motion certain other events. Mother was furious, she still is. As is the nature of our Master, he saw fit not only to punish yourself, but your family too.

I write this from a small house in the Brecon Beacons. It is not nearly as luxurious as Malfoy Manor, but these are the compromises one must make when they are 'on the run', so to speak. It's dark, dank and disgusting, but at least I have a bed for the night, and am safe from the Aurors.

Snape is here too, and Mother. A proper family; a father, who would risk his own neck to save the child and a mother, who would do her best to keep them both from harm. Wouldn't that be nice? Sometimes I pretend it is, that no one is hunting me, that I am safe. It often comes to a rather abrupt end, when we suddenly have to up and leave. It sends me crashing back down to reality with a harsh bump.

Damn Aurors. Why can't they keep their great big noses out of, well, everything? Petty theft? Send in the Aurors. An Unforgivable curse or two? Why, along comes the Auror brigade. Dead Headmaster? No problem, the trusty Auror team are always at hand. Always. I don't think we've been in a place longer than four days before they come crawling along. Like sniffer dogs.

Of course! You wouldn't know, would you? Dumbledore is dead. Yes. It's a funny story really; you know I said that Our Master saw fit to punish the whole family? Well, would you believe that he enlisted me into his services? Can you believe the absurdity of that? Oh but it gets better, he ordered me to perform a task. Quite an important task, at that. Mother said I was not expected to succeed, and it would be my downfall. Our downfall.

The task? To kill Dumbledore. Did I succeed? Yes and no. He is dead - Dumbledore, I did not jest. But I didn't do it; Severus did. Snape. Hogwarts' very own Potion's Master. That's right, the man you only saw as your lapdog killed one of the greatest wizards of the age. I believe that shows a lot about your judgement. He defied both the old coot of a headmaster and the Dark Lord. Impressive, I do think.

Therefore, it is not just the Aurors we are running from. The Dark Lord has a bounty on my head, and every Death Eater across the land is desperate to become the recipient of it. And not just my head, but Severus' and Mother's. I'm surprised even you are still alive, but then again, perhaps you're not. For all I know, you're rotting away in gaol. Festering. Rats gnawing upon your carcass. But one mustn't get up their hopes.

It would be a good idea, should the Dark Lord ever instigate a breakout, to run quite quickly in the opposite direction. You could join us, the Malfoys and Snape: a fierce battle of defiance and betrayal. Or cowardice, on your behalf. It's not so hard, or bad, once you get used to it. A new location every few days, no limitations. To put a positive spin on it, I find it quite liberating.

That is, once you manage to forget that nearly the entire wizarding world, (plus, I suspect, a fair few Muggles as well), would like to see your head mounted on a stick. I suppose you have to take the rough with the smooth, or in this case, the rough with the rough.

Oh Lord, Snape just shouted. Apparition sensory charms have been activated within a one-mile radius. Someone is on the prowl. And so the journey continues, unfolding and twisting like a pensive. With, presumably, many memories to come from it.

Tally-ho, Lucius. Don't let the bed bugs bite too hard, and be sure to eat your greens.

Your son,

Draco