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It was precisely 4:12... not that he'd been keeping track. He was standing outside Slug and Jiggers, wondering if Potter would be late - not that he cared if he were. It had been a long few weeks at the Manor; he'd been mixing Mother sleeping draughts nearly every night. He was almost as tired as she was, and still no word of his father. Though Auntie Bella had been so kind to drop by.

He was loathe to admit today would be a welcome reprieve.

Draco whizzed around the field once more, but his thoughts wouldn't stop swirling. After his talk with Snape.. he wasn't sure what to think anymore. The man was disturbingly cryptic at times. He was contemplating taking the peace draught after all when he saw a familiar, albeit outdated, broom.

"Potter?" he called, certain the boy hadn't seen him yet.