Chapter Text
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Head boy, drop dead gorgeous, shinny ash-blonde hair, stormy grey eyes, perfectly sculpted features, and filthy rich by the looks of it. Girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him. He was an artist's dream model. What more could Draco want? His life was perfect... That was, all until his 6th year when his life took an unpleasant turn. Death Eaters, Voldemort, Horcrux's, death...
After the war, the Malfoy name became infamous, and Draco's life and surroundings grew dark and cruel. His father was sentence life in Azkaban for his actions in the war, driving him mad until the point of death. He was finally gone, bringing some kind of newfound, amoral peace over the Malfoy Family. Though Draco still cared for his father, he knew it was for the better. But he was not alone.
After his father's death, Draco stayed under the care of his mother, Narcissa. Now, she was a nice woman, sweet and gentle. She cared for him, like any mother would a son and gave him the love he needed. But she wasn't, nor could she ever be, a masculine influence in Draco's life.
As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, Draco got a letter from the ministry, informing him that he is to attend Hogwarts this year as part of his dire punishment. His stomach churned with abhorrence. He knew as soon as he stepped inside those doors he would be hexed into next year. But what else could he do? He couldn't do anything but accept his fate and wait for what was coming for him.
The waiting was over and his story began...
He is unable to sleep. He hardly sleeps at all anymore. He would lie in his bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, his mind blazing with horrific thoughts of Hogwarts and the things he did; it was just too much to bear in the emptiness of his room.
Draco flips onto his side, and stares at the blank wall. It's was 11:45 in the night and he can't seem to fall asleep. There is only a few more hours until he is sent back to Hogwarts.
He sits up and furiously reaches up for his face. He wants to scream, cry. He wants to run far away and hide from the world. He was a coward. He could hear his father say it.
You are a coward!
His fathers voice echoes in his mind. Draco shakes his head, hands still planted over his face. "No." He says in an audible whisper.
You bring shame to the Malfoy name!
"Please, father." Draco's eyes start to water, his jaw clenches tightly. He knows it's just his mind playing tricks on him, but it all seems too real.
You deserve to die!
The words struck him with force. It nearly feels as if his father were standing right there next to him. He shakes his head violently. "No!" Draco says much louder. "Please!" He starts to kick his feet and grips tightly on his blonde hair. All he feels like doing is screaming. So he does.
Footsteps are heard, running outside his bedroom and the door opens with a loud thud! At first he thinks it's an Auror coming to see what's wrong. He doesn't want them. He doesn't need anybody. He doesn't want their pity. He doesn't deserve it.
"Leave me alone!" He yells as he hears the footsteps come closer, and then they stop. He feels two arms wrap tightly around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Draco takes in a sharp breath and is struck by surprise. His back stiffens, and for a moment he is unsure what to do. He thinks about pulling away, but the arms wrapped around his body are too delicate, too gentle. He decides to let himself fall into the comforting paradise.
"Shhhh," Narcissa whispers to her son, fingers running through his silky blonde hair, in hopes to calm him down. It hurts her to see him in so much pain. Her only son. "It's okay. Im here."
Draco can't control the unavoidable sorrow that washes over him. He squeezes his eyes shut as an attempt to keep his tears at bay, but fails and burrows his head into his mother's neck, her hair muffling his silent sobs.
Narcissa starts humming to him. Her elegant fingers rubbing his back in soothing motions, and Draco recognizes the song immediately. It's a lullaby she used to sing to him when he was just a child. A song she sang for him every night before he fell asleep. Draco relaxes to the soothing sound of the music as he slowly drifts off to sleep in her arms.
They stay like this for what seems like a while until she realizes Draco is no longer crying. His breathing has finally calmed, chest raising and falling with even breaths. He's asleep.
Carefully, Narcissa disentangles herself from her son's embrace, tucking Draco's sleeping form in before brushing a kiss to his forehead and heads to the door to leave. Stopping mid way out, she turns around to look at her son sleeping, peacefully. He looks so small, so innocent; like a child. And to her, he is just a child. He may have changed physically, but inside he's still a little boy. A little boy who got lost and took a wrong path.
"Goodnight, Draco." She whispers softly and quietly closes the door behind her.
Draco finishes packing the last of his belongings into the luggage with a heavy sigh.
Looking around his room he finds himself being evoked by memories. He remembers bringing Dobby in here all the time to play. His parents were always never around so it was nice to have him as company. But Dobby wasn't just anyone he called whenever he felt bored. He was someone who he'd call a friend. His lips curved into a sad smile at the thought of the old house elf.
Draco was disturbed from his thoughts when something made a loud noise on the window. His head snapped towards the tapping, startled. It was an owl. He was still a little edgy after last night, but he opened the window and the owl flew inside. Curious, Draco undid the ribbon around its leg and picked up the small letter.
Gingerly, he unfolded the letter. It was from Pansy. Draco began to read.
Dearest Draco,
It has come to my attention that you will be accompanying me for another year at Hogwarts. I thought the fact that Blaise, Astoria, and Theo will also return would reassure you. I'm so glad you will be joining the four of us. I'll be waiting with anticipation to spend this year with you. To the near future.
Love, Pansy
Draco pursed his lips into a thin line.
To the near future
He re-read the nicely, cursive handwriting and huffed in annoyance. She was trying to woo him again. To think that after all the rejections, she'd understand that he wasn't emotionally, nor sexually attracted to her. It was aggravating.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't any time to write back. The train was going to arrive any minute now and he did not want to have to share a seat with anyone. This early in the morning, other's idiocy were anathema to him, and were guaranteed to make his day much worse than needed.
Tossing the letter on the bed, he grabbed his trunk and made his way down stairs. Lifting the trunk so it wouldn't hit the hard wood, something about that triggered the memory of his first day at hogwarts. He remembered waking up 2 hours early that day, waiting on his bed with anticipation. As time passed, he'd practice on levitating objects. He might have just learned the spell the other day, but it was always nice to be a little ahead. Finally, when the time came, he scurried down stairs, his trunk hitting the steps with a clunk! He was much too excited to care, but his mother had told him to be careful before he could mark anymore scratches. Lost in his own memories and thoughts he barley noticed his mother standing patiently in the middle of the room.
Leaving the trunk a few feet behind him, he walked up to her. She says nothing, but looks up at him with teary eyes. She's trying her best not to cry. She's a strong woman. A Malfoy. She brings up one of her elegant hands up to cup his face, the other following behind, giving him a bitter smile. Draco can see the pain in her eyes.
"Sometimes is wish..." Narcissa begins, her voice cracking slightly. "I wish..."
"Mother, I'll be fine," they both knew it was a lie. "I'll owl." He said, before placing a small kiss on her forehead and retreats back to grab his trunk. He walks towards the fireplace and gathers a bit of floo powder. "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," he says, tossing in the powder, and steps into the warm, green flames.
Shouts, rattling of cages, hoots of owls, and other such abrasive noises filled the air. Draco ignored it all, keeping his eyes glued onto the floor and avoids as much eye contact as possible, nonetheless the relentless whispering and threats.
"deatheater..."
"Malfoy..."
"He should be in Azkaban..."
"Dead." He avoided it all as he neared one of the train's doors.
About to step inside, he saw a familiar flash of jet-black and green. He turns his gaze in that direction. Speaking to another man with red hair, freckles, and ill-fitting robes, was Harry Potter. His dark hair was as unruly as ever. His eyes were a luminous green, and piercing. He was taller than he'd been the last time Draco saw him, though he stood a good half a foot below Draco's height of just over six feet. He was slightly muscular, more so than Draco, but slightly thinner as well the last time he seen him. He was dressed in a simple hunter green jumper and washed out blue jeans.
Draco stared silently for a brief moment before Ron looked up from from the shorter man and noticed the Slytherin staring. He gave him a tempestuously indignant look, taking Draco by surprise. He returned it with one of his venomous glares, before stepping inside the train, making his way into an empty compartment.
Draco peered about the various compartments, before his eyes alighted upon one with empty seats. He pulled the door open, pulling his trunk in and stuffing it into the corner.
Sitting on the worn out seat, he rests his elbows on his knees, burying his face into his palms, before letting out a shaky breath. He's finally here. It's finally happening. He's going to Hogwarts.
A whistle blew loudly and the train began to move.
Draco rubbed his hands up his face before the pale slim fingers raked through his blonde hair. He peers out the window in attempt to make himself at ease, but instead he see's his own reflection looking back at him. He notices the dark circles around his eyes, like if he had not slept in a long time. And he hadn't. Not since he got the mark.
Hesitantly, Draco pulls down on the sleeve of his robe. The head of the snake was slightly faded, but still very noticeable along with the rest of the Tattoo. Every time he looked at the skull mark, it would only remind him of all the torture, all the darkness, all the terrible things he had done. In the night, he would hear the screams of his old friend, Crabbe, as he was burned alive in the flames. He would never forget it for the rest of his life.
"RONALD!" Came an angry voice that startled Draco out of his seat, his heart beating quickly.
Cautiously, he walked to the compartment door and slid it open. Draco soon regretted the decision.
A pink bald cat ran inside his compartment, hissing and meowing as it bounced back and forth on the seats. Draco yelped, disgusted by the sight of the naked cat. He fell back into one of the seats as he watched a girl with brown bushy hair stop in front of his compartment.
Hermione was panting, heavily. She blew some curly locks from her face and gasped as soon as she spotted the cat.
"Crookshanks!" She exclaimed, relieved. She pounced in attempted to grab the cat, but missed terribly and landed on her stomach with an unff! Draco winced as he watched the entire show right in front of him. The cat jumped on Hermione's head before, finally, running out of the room and, again, into another compartment.
Hermione stood up, quickly not acknowledging the presence of Draco, who looked as if he were about to faint. She ran outside and squeaked when she looked down the thin corridor.
"Ron! Harry! I found him!" She yelled behind her and ran into the long corridor ahead of her, and into another compartment where the cat was located at. "Ron! I'll get you back for this!"
"I'm sorry!" Was all Draco heard before he seen a flash of orange run after her. He swallowed, heart still pumping. He shivered at the thought of the naked cat.
Filthy creatures, he thought.
Luckily, the cat hadn't managed to touch any of his stuff. He stood up and straightened his robes, not wanting to arrive at Hogwarts looking like a mess. Pride was still a very big thing for Draco, even with the entire world hating him. The door was still wide open and he didn't want to risk there being another naked cat running inside again.
Walking up to close it, he didn't notice as another boy was running towards him. Both hissed in pain as their shoulders hit with great force. Draco managed to keep himself up as the other male hit the floor. He rubbed at the, most likely now, bruised shoulder and turned to face the man on the floor with a glare. He opened his mouth, ready to curse and yell at him for not watching where he was going when he noticed the familiar unruly black hair and piercing green eyes. The words only managed to come out as choking sounds as Draco recognized the person.
"I'm sorry..." the Gryffindor stood up to properly apologize. "It's my fault. I wasn't looking to where I was..." Harry's eyes widen, words abating into mumbles.
They stood staring at each other in silence for a few seconds (or hours for them) both not knowing wether to say something. If Draco were ever in a situation like this in his 5th year, he'd start throwing insults at the boy without any hesitation, like he always would. But, were they enemy's anymore? Sure, Draco had refused to identify him that time in the Manor, and Potter had saved him from the Fiendfyre, returned his wand, testified at his trial and kept him out of prison; but that didn't make them friends. Or did it? They had parted after a pleasant conversation, or rather, a simple nod when Potter returned his wand. But they hadn't spoken since then.
"Malfoy?" Came Harry's voice, bringing him back to reality and away from his thoughts. "Hmm?" His head rose up to meet him. "I said I'd like to apologize," he said, bringing his arm up to scratch the back of his head. His eyes turned to look at the floor. "I'd also like t-to talk about the past–"
"There is nothing to talk about." Draco interrupted, coldly. Harry's head shot up to look at him now, as though he wasn't expecting that. "Malfoy," Harry began, before he sighed, and dropped his arm down to his side. "I just want to make things right."
"Who says things weren't right before?" Draco retorted. He crossed his arms over his chest, before scoffing. "But of course, why wouldn't you want to make things right? You're the hero, the savior. You do what you think is right for the people." He says scornfully, and drops his arms to his sides, then looks at him with cold grey eyes. "Well, you listen here, Potter. And you listen well. I don't need your help and I certainly don't need your pity, so leave me out of it!" he said, through gritted teeth, and turned around to walk back to his compartment without another word.