Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I have taken some of the quotes directly from the first book. In this case, it's when Draco is talking to Harry in Madam Malkin's.

I just want to warn you guys that this story doesn't truly begin until their third/fourth year - the eighth chapter - so I hope you guys are patient. :)

Now on to the story.

"Faaaather. What do you mean I can't be nice to him?" A small, eleven year old boy stood in front of an old wooden desk. Papers stacked high, quills lined up correctly on one side, a newspaper with moving photos folded neatly on the other. In the oak chair sat a man with long, white-blonde hair, a hand massaging his forehead.

"You heard correctly the first time. What have your mother and I told you repeatedly all your life?"

"I can not, and will not, befriend Harry Potter. But you never told me why. You never tell me anything." The whiny boy stood pouting, his eyes begging his father to tell him.

"No, son. Your mother and I do not wish for you to know just yet." The elder closed his eyes, fists clenched tightly under the desk. "You must keep your mask on, is that understood?"

"Yes, Father." The boy sighed, giving in. But at least my thoughts are my own. He sat in the chair in front of his father, glancing out the window. "When is Nott getting here?"

"In a few minutes, then we'll be heading to Diagon Alley. Your mother will be going as well. Now, head up like the Malfoy you are, Draco. After we walk out of this room, you will begin what you've been trained to do. You will not, under any circumstances, drop it until after your first year is done. Even when you are here with just your mother and I, you will keep it up. Understood?"

"Yes, Father. Will you be doing your mask as well?"

Lucius nodded, his eyes shadowed. He remembered well how long it took to train his son, and how he was, though no one was able to see it but his father and mother.

"Mum! Look what Father gave me!" A tiny five year old squealed, running into the Master Suite, a minature broom in one chubby hand and a cookie in the other. "And Dobby! Dobby made me a cookie!" Without any other thought, the boy crammed said cookie into his mouth, "it's 'ummy, 'um! 'okie, 'okie!"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" Narcissa tried to sound stern, but a bubble of laughter threatened to escape her. "Do not talk with your mouth full, what would your father say?"

The boy chewed quickly before swallowing, a few crumbs still on his pale skin. Then little Draco took in a deep breath before holding up a finger, eyes screwed shut, "A true Malfoy will hold himself with diligence. Malfoy's will not disgrace themselves in anyway in front of others. Malfoy's will appear superior in every way." With that the boy dropped his hands and stared at his Mother, "but Mum, I don't know what diligence, disgrace, or superior means. Does that mean I'm a bad Malfoy?"

When his face scrunched up, and tears began to have a sheen in his eyes, his mother swooped down and plucked him from the floor. "No, Darling. It means you still have much to learn." She nuzzled his neck and blew into his ear until he giggled. "It just means you must act how your father has taught you to act in front of others."

"But Mum, I have to not tell anybody anything secret? What about Theo? He's nice."

"No, Darling, not even Theo can know our secrets. What have we told you, from the very beginning?"

"Family comes first. Family is everything."

She nodded, holding him close, "That's right, darling boy, family is everything."

When she felt Draco nod, she placed the energetic boy on the ground. "Well, Father isn't here, so can we not tell him I wasn't being a good Malfoy?"

With a laugh, Narcissa ruffled her son's hair, winking at the man who stood in the doorway, "Of course, Draco. We won't tell your father."

"Are you ready, Draco?" Lucius had one hand on his son's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"I still don't understand." The boy looked up, hoping his father might tell him something, but Lucius shook his head. "Very well, but you do promise to tell me after this school year?"

"Yes, Draco. But first, you must prove that you are able to handle this before we tell you everything."

Draco nodded, and held his head high. For a moment, his eyes were squeezed shut, his hand reaching up to grasp Lucius'. But when his gray eyes flickered open, the once swirling colors appeared to dull and they no longer showed anything. Brushing his father's hand off, he spoke up obnoxiously, "Father, isn't it about time we head off? I do wish to get my things before school starts."

Lucius said nothing as his son strode out of the room, his stride long and powerful compared to the light hearted ones from before. He let himself have a second, before he, too, put on his mask and went after his son.

"Head to the floo room, the Nott's will be here momentarily. I shall go get Narcissa." With a small flourish, Lucius turned to go a different way.

But Draco had caught the small hand gesture, one so minute you had to be looking for to see. Over the years, the three of them had learned to be discreet with hand motions that only they would understand. The motions were for comfort, not words shared.

Refusing to smile, the eleven year old straightened his shoulders even more and headed for the floo. Before he could touch the handle, a pop was heard and there stood Dobby, already bowing low. "Master Draco, I's be getting the door for yous."

So even the house-elves were in on it this time around. Usually it was only for days at a time. It had even gone as long as four months, but never a year. He had never had to go somewhere new and be someone who he wasn't. No one would understand.

It was how it was supposed to be. Family was everything.

Ignoring the elf, though his mouth almost betrayed him in the form of a smile, he strolled into the room, hands behind his back. He stood to the side of the floo, waiting patiently for his guests.

Luckily for him, he was just on time as Theodore Nott burst through the suddenly green flames, almost tripping over his feet. "Malfoy," he greeted with an incline of his head, but decided to say nothing more.

Draco waited for a larger man to come out, more gracefully, before saying his reply, "Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Come, we must be meeting with my parents in the adjoining room."

Hoping his family was already there so he wouldn't have to talk, Draco led the other two through a door, not bothering to hold the door open for them. When he saw his mother and father already sitting, he suppressed a sigh of relief.

"Father, Mother." Stepping forward, he kissed his mum's cheek before standing beside his father's chair. Tharin Nott stood rigidly beside his own son while Lucius stared blankly at the two before speaking, "I see you have come, though you are later than you said you would be. Draco must have been there for minutes waiting." When Tharin started to speak, the long haired man stood. "Shall we be off? Narcissa."

The tall, slim woman stood and gracefully swooped past the others to head back into the floo room and Draco had to bite his tongue to stop from saying that the Nott's had arrived precisely on time.

Following his mother's lead, he went back into the room he had just left and watched as she disappeared in a flash of green and the words, spoken cool and calm, "Knockturn Alley."

A see-through vase stood beside the fireplace on an antique table, filled to the brim with glittery, silver powder. Putting his hand into the fine sand, he pulled out a handful and tossed it into the blazing fire, watching it turn from red to green. With confidence, he stepped into the blaze and spoke with command, "Knockturn Alley."

With his elbows tucked in, he let himself be pulled away. Fireplaces, hearths, bodies without definition flew past, no one the wiser that he was there seconds ago. On and on it went, and he was grateful when he started to slow. Waiting for the precise moment, he stepped out, not a single ash landing on his robes.

His mother gave him a swift nod, fixing the non-existent wrinkles from his clothing. "Excellent, Draco," she whispered.

He gave her a small smile, thankful he could somewhat talk to his mother normally. Though not for very long.

They stood and waited for the other three in Borgin and Burkes. Shelves lined with strange items stared at them. Coffins, skulls, dead rats, necklaces, rings, hands.

The next minute had everyone standing together and leaving the dreary shop to head towards Diagon Alley. The shaded streets had people in rags with beady eyes, following their every movement. Theodore gave in to his shudders, Draco held firm, his father's voice in his head: Malfoy's do not appear weak.

The shadows gave way to light, and they stood in the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. Witches and Wizards in all different sorts of colors. Some wore the hats, though not many. However, unlike the Malfoy's, the other's robes were plain. They didn't have the detail in them, nor made from the same material so they didn't give off the glow that the blonde hair family's did.

"Draco," Lucius looked over his shoulder and handed a bag filled with coins to his son. "Head to Madam Malkin's and get your robes. I'll be getting your books, your mother will be looking at wands, and the Notts," he gave them a disdainful look, "will be getting their money."

"Yes, Father." He didn't look back as he worked his way through the crowd. He would have just slipped in-between people, but while he wore his mask he had to push past them with a sneer in place.

It hurt when others muttered behind his back about rude children. But what his father told him to do was far more important than what others thought.

When he finally pushed the door open to the bustling shop, the witches in there saw the trademark Malfoy hair, and immediately put him on a stool to begin pinning a set of robes for him. He stood quietly, pretending to ignore the chatter, but his ear was open and inside he was smiling when they started to talk about new students getting ready for Hogwarts.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, are you ready for Hogwarts?"

He liked the lady the first time he had met her, five years prior. Madam Malkin was kind and sweet heartened, and he hated lying to her, but he always did and she was none the wiser.

"Your concern should only be on my robes."

She sighed, patting his arm. "Of course, dear." Every time she saw him, though, she tried. He seemed to be such a sweet boy, until he opened his mouth, but still, she tried.

The door gave a small squeak, announcing that someone had come in. Another boy, black haired, broken glasses that were round, skinny, clothing that was too big, came shuffling in with his head down. But when he looked up, Draco instantly recognized him.

His father had searched for him, dredging up old contacts to find just a single portrait of the boy. The moment he had it, he had shown the picture to Draco, telling him that it was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Then having to tell his son that he had to make enemies with the boy if it was the last thing he did. For Draco's safety, for his family's safety. So Draco had sworn, even though he had no desire to make the green-eyed boy despise him.

So he started the conversation as soon as Harry Potter stood beside him, "Hello. Hogwarts, too?"

The small boy looked up, shocked that the sharp faced boy would talk to him. "Yes."

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands." Draco forced his voice to come out like a drawl. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." As if he could bully his father into doing anything. "Have you got your own broom?"

"No." The boy had his head back down, looking at his toes, and Draco wished he could stop.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

"I do." Inside, where he was safe from others stares, he winced at how spoiled and conceited he sounded. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No."

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" The witch that was pinning his robes looked at the boy, a huff coming out of her thin mouth.

Oops. Must have been in Hufflepuff.

"Mmmm."

Looking out the window, Draco thought he did enough for the moment to get the boy to at least not like him, but he saw Hogwarts Gamekeeper grinning at Harry. Taking a breath to steady himself, he gasped, "I say, look at that man!"

When Harry looked up, a smile was on his face as he spoke, more confidently than he had the whole time. "That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" Gritting his teeth, he said the words calmly as if it was the most natural thing to do.

"He's the gamekeeper."

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant." The other boy's voice has gone cold, and Draco knew he was doing a bang up job getting Harry to hate him.

"Do you? Why is he with you? Where are your parents?" Draco swore to himself that that was going to be the last, cruel thing he would say for the day. Knowingly, and to this boy. If he had to be cruel to someone else, he would force himself to. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"They're dead."

"Oh, sorry. But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" He had kept watch on Madam Malkin as she seemed to fly as she fixed Harry Potter's robes, so he knew that Harry wouldn't have to answer his last question. Maybe he was still being cruel with what he said, he just wanted out.

Harry - no, Potter - left quickly to go meet back up with Hagrid.

Draco could feel the cold stares from the witches, but he decided to ignore it. When Madam Malkin asked, "Why would you say such mean things about other people? He might not even share the same beliefs as you do, Mr. Malfoy."

He didn't reply, and he didn't speak as he joined his family and the Nott's later. He just stood tall with his mouth closed. He had said more than enough for the day. His hands were clenched into fists as he walked, but his face portrayed nothing. His nails dug deeper into skin as they completed their business and they headed home.

The food he ate didn't seem to hold any taste. It didn't seem to hold any substance. It just didn't help.

So he excused himself and headed for his suite on the second floor in the east wing. The moment the door closed, he ran to his bed and flopped down on it, hitting his pillow over and over again.

But he wouldn't change what he did for anything.

If he hurt Harry Potter, the one to take down You-Know-Who, then he would. If he had to anger Harry Potter, the one who was called the Boy-Who-Lived, then he would. If he had to become enemies with Harry Potter, the one to save the Wizarding World, then he would.

He would protect his family.

His family was all he had.

A/N So there's the first chapter of my first ever fanfiction. Hope you guys enjoyed it. :) Hopefully the next chapter will be up next week. Woo