He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror of his dingy, poorly lit hotel room. The light made him look paler than usual and gave him an unearthly glow, the whiteness of his skin made the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent, he could see the devastating events of the past year in the gauntness of his cheeks and the dark shadows lurking in his ice blue eyes. His white blonde hair no longer carefully gelled into a carefully crafted style, but lank and greasy.
"How did this happen?" the boy asked his reflection, "How did I become this?" but deep down Draco Malfoy knew the answer, it was through his own actions, his own pride, his own weakness. If only he had, had the strength to refuse to follow his father, to refuse to be branded and used to further another man's power. He glanced down at the tattered arm of his robe, knowing the darkness it concealed the vile, poisonous mark of true and pure evil. Draco's thoughts wandered to the night he had been marked as one of them.
He walked into the room, there was a hushed silence over the room, he glanced around and saw many familiar faces, his aunt Bellatrix almost fainting with anticipation, her dark eyes wild, next to her was the ravaged face of Fenrir Greyback, his mouth turned up in a feral sneer, Draco swiftly averted his eyes feeling the usual twist of fear and revulsion which usually accompanied the sight of Greyback. Next his eyes found his mother, her eyes betraying the fear she felt as she stood by and watched her only son walk to the centre, her shaking hands held stiffly by her side lest they too break her perfect veneer of calm. Draco finally found the person his eyes sought, the reason he was here, the one whose respect and love he finally hoped to earn, Lucius Malfoy stood to the left of Draco's mother, standing tall and proud in his black robes, with a look of admiration and awe in his haughty face, however it was not for his son, his eyes were fixed upon the man who had started it all, the one whose very name instilled fear into even his most loyal followers, it was him that Draco now saw, his papery white skin, his thin mouth and most disturbing of all his red, slit like eyes.
"Are you ready Draco?" the thin voice pierced the silence, as Draco looked around he saw his mother close her eyes as if willing Draco to say no but at the same time terrified what would happen if he did. It was only at this moment that his father's steel grey eyes glanced towards him, knowing there was no choice Draco answered with the only possible answer, " I am."
But no he must not think about it anymore, Voldemort was dead as was his father. The war was over, and Draco no longer had a place in the world, where could he go, once a death eater and the son of a death eater, now a traitor to the dark side but still bearing the mark of one, once very much in the inner sanctum, their was no one that would be willing to shelter him. Those who once welcomed him as a part of them now shunned him as the one who brought them down, and the side that he had turned traitor for refused to accept someone bearing the mark of Voldemort and would never truly trust him. There had been one man who would have, a man who had welcomed others like him, but that man was dead, and now there was no one. His mother had fled when his father had died, leaving Draco alone, he did not know why and he did not know where she had gone, all he knew was he could not have loved him as much as he believed, of course she had cared more than his father, and Draco had believed that meant she loved him, that it meant she would stand by him and not leave him alone and empty in this world, but now he knew that he could trust no one he would have to forge a life for himself without the help of anyone. The overwhelming surge of loneliness suddenly engulfed Draco like a tidal wave, and for the first time since it had all started he cried, he cried for all that he had lost and all that he would never have.
Ginny Weasley, didn't understand she thought that when it was over when he came back to her she thought it would all be perfect, but now she saw that it was far from it, Fred was dead and he was one of many, she could see the destruction that the battle had left everywhere and most of all Harry had not come back to her like he had promised.
She looked at herself in the mirror and she saw the marks the war had left in the hollowness of her cheeks and the sadness in her chocolate eyes. If you looked further you could see the scars across her skin where she had been the victim of the savage Death Eaters' curses, even when she had could have cried with pain, she held it back because she knew it would be worth it, when he came back and they could finally have the life she'd always dreamed, with lots of children with auburn hair and emerald eyes. But, it was over and he still hadn't come to her, instead he had sought refuge with Hermione, they seemed closer than ever, and Ginny couldn't help but wonder if those long days alone, when even Ron had abandoned them, had brought the two friends closer than she could ever have imagined. No, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, Harry would never do that he knew how much he meant to her, and she knew she meant more to him than just a fling before he had to face Voldemort, she knew Hermione would never do that to her.