To: Draco Malfoy
From: Daddy

Dearest Dragon,

Well, you certainly have been busy. I am very pleased to hear that your friendship with Harry is progressing so well; he will be a very valuable ally. Moreover, one who is in a position to advise young Mr. Potter will have no small degree of influence.

I also commend your chivalrous behaviour towards Ms Granger and your foresight; by suggesting that a muggleborn be re-sorted into Slytherin, you will certainly convince an unbiased observer that we are not unfairly prejudiced towards those who have not had the benefit of being born into a respectable family. I am fully confident, my Dragon, in your judgement and I am satisfied that you will ensure that Ms Granger does not discredit our noble House.

‘A consummate potioneer’? That is high praise, indeed, from such a master as Professor Snape. It also pleases me to hear that Professor Snape relied on you to lead your fellow First Years back to the Serpent’s Nest; Malfoys are, indeed, natural leaders but, to be distinguished so early is gratifying. I am very proud of your progress.

Your idea of a study group is very worthy. There is, naturally, much which mere books cannot teach and, as long as the distinction of rank is maintained, it is highly laudable when muggleborns strive to integrate into magical society. Indeed, if Ms Granger is intelligent and has due respect for her social superiors, she could even be a positive addition to some worthy, mixed-blood family.

I will happily supply you with an assortment of well known brands. However, as I am more than capable of shrinking larger items, I have, rather than packing sweets (as you suggested in your previous letter), included, instead, an assortment of fruits, vegetables, preserved goods and other household items.

Mummy sends her love,

Xxx Daddy

oOoOo

“First years! In here quick!” squeaked Draco, sticking his head out of the boy’s dorm, his eyes alight with joy.

When the little snakes and snakettes entered the dorm, they were confronted with a wondrous sight: on the floor lay a soft, green picnic rug covered with every sort of sweet, cake and biscuit made by Wizarding manufacture. Propped up against a bed were half a dozen bottles of pop, butterbeer and pumpkin juice and a large, metal carton- on top of which- promisingly- was an ice-cream scoop.

Draco grinned and held out a handful of silver spoons and crystal glasses “Whose for ice-cream?!”