"Draco," he corrected quietly. "Mr. Malfoy is my father, and here, I want no association with the man, at least, no more then what I have to have." Sliding silently into the offered seat, Draco sat almost primly at the edge of his chair and he gazed back at the Minister calmly.
"It's no secret that my family has...ties to the Death Eaters," explained Draco, choosing his words very specifically. His gaze locked on the other's now, aware very well that he was speaking directly to the man who had the most authority in Britain. "Obviously, I know more about the Death Eaters--who they are, how they operate--then perhaps even yourself, if you'll forgive the boast. It's just a statement of fact. After all, I was thrust into the worst of it myself, and at the very center of it, just as a struggle to survive. I know how their minds operate and why they do what they do, and more so, I know their fighting styles, their spells, their way of thought, and their motivations. While the rest of the trainees were busy learning how to defend themselves, I...was otherwisely occupied," Draco once again chose his words carefully, partially wanting to see just how much Kingsley knew about his role in Dumbledore's death, for instance.
"I'll be blunt, Minister. I was shocked when I was honestly admitted into the trainee programme. I thought my history, and that of my family, was far too strong for anyone to admit me. Obviously, there was something that I've done differently to help prove that I'm not quite who I've led everyone to believe I am over the years. More so, it makes me wonder why I was accepted into the programme. I find it hard to believe that I wasn't admitted just for my knowledge about the enemy, so to speak. Again, forgive me for being so blunt, but I've no nice way of putting this." Draco kept his tone as steady and as calm as he possibly could have pulled off, drawing on years of charismatic training that Lucius had given him. Perhaps something his father had taught him could be put to good use, after all.