"Draco, are you quite sure I can't accompany you to the platform?" Narcissa Malfoy's face was marked with worry—one sign of the war that had taken place. The Malfoy Mask had somehow become a thing of the past for her. The most common expression these days to mar her aristocratic features was worry; next was fear, and anger, and on occasion, a pleading expression. Before the war, a Malfoy never wore these expressions—at least not publically.
"Yes, mother, I would really rather go alone," Draco, adjusting his robes in the mirror, had to stop the sigh he wanted to release at having to answer the same question for perhaps the twentieth time since he had come down to breakfast early that morning. Seeing that his mother's features hadn't relaxed, he added, "I'm sure everything will be fine. I know how to defend myself, yet I doubt I'll have to. You know most of the Slytherin's have chosen not to return to Hogwarts."
"Surely, Draco, you don't think that your former friends are the only ones you need fear?" Her look of exclamation only served to exasperate Draco further.
"I am not thick. I understand that I will have to watch my own back, and I will have to watch it more so than I used to." He turned away from the mirror after one last glance at his straightened tie. "The train will leave shortly. You know I must be going."
Narcissa shook her head, her expression admitting defeat. "Have a good year, son. Come back home to me."
"Of course, mother," he said softly. His mother looked close to tears, as she had been much since the war ended…since his father had been giving a permanent slab of stone in Azkaban Prison. He stepped forward to hug her, an act that had occurred more often since the fall of the Dark Lord. "I'll be home for Christmas," he said softly against her yellow-blond hair.
For a moment he feared she wouldn't let him go. After several moments, she gave one final squeeze, kissed him on the cheek, and stepped back. "Goodbye, Draco," she whispered, trying very hard not to cry.
"Goodbye, Mother." Draco shrank his trunk and put it gently into his pocket. Turning on the spot, he dissapparated directly onto Platform 9 3/4.
The platform was crowded just as much as usual. Wide eyed and grinning first years looked around excitedly, pointing and saying their goodbyes. Many of the parents looked worried and reluctant to let their children leave on the train, much like Draco's mother had been. Many returning students from all years were clamoring to get aboard. Draco scanned the platform for even one friendly face, but he found none. He hadn't really been expecting to.
He knew that many of his old friends from Slytherin would not be returning for what had been coined "The Eighth Year". Most of their parents were either dead or in Azkaban with Draco's father. Some of them were dead themselves. He shook his head in an effort to stop that train of thought.
He started towards the train, but halted in his footsteps when he spotted the very people he thought least likely to return. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter were approaching, surrounded closely by the group of friends that everyone knew as Dumbledore's Army: Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood. Predictably, Ron and Hermione were holding hands; Harry was beside them with his arm slung over Neville's shoulder; walking slightly behind and beside the group of four was the Weasley girl and Luna, appearing to be in conversation.
As they approached, Draco took a step back to give them more room to pass. The group silenced as they grew closer to him, each casting a furtive glance his way. He didn't turn away from their eyes. His resolve slipped as Luna came into his line of vision and met his eyes. He held his breath, afraid of what she might say, but she only smiled softly before continuing past him with her group of Gryffindor friends. Draco released the breath he had been holding, gathered his black robes around him and boarded the train.
He easily found an empty compartment, sliding inside and shutting the door behind him. He sat down, trying to ignore the thoughts streaming into his mind. It was easy at first, what with the sounds of students loading the train, slamming compartment doors and shuffling to stuff their luggage into the racks. But after the train had left the station, the halls quieted and Draco's thoughts itched at him.
Luna Lovegood. The girl had been held captive in the cellar of Malfoy Manor for nearly a year. Draco hated the times that he was forced to bring the trays of slop down to the prisoners. He was afraid of them, as he had been afraid of everything since his sixth year. He'd go into the cellar, floating the food trays ahead of him, moving cautiously and warily into the always darkened room. Luna was always the prisoner to step forward and collect the trays. "Thank you, Draco," she would whisper every time.
Thank you, Draco. The memory of those words never seemed to leave Draco be. They echoed as though he were facing her in that cellar again. Thank you, Draco.
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the opening of his compartment door. "Anything off the trolley?" the aged witch asked him, as though she had no idea who she was.
Draco almost told her no, but decided that a few treats would probably do his spirits well. He ended up purchasing only a Chocolate Frog, hoping it would cheer him. He only had a bite out of the frog when his eyes strayed to see what famous wizard was on his card. He had collected several since he was a young child, so he never expected to see anything that he didn't all ready have. He almost dropped the card when he saw the serene smile, blond hair, radish earrings, and pale grey eyes—so much like his own—looking back at him. After overcoming the initial shock, he read the description: Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw. Member of Dumbledore's Army. Fought alongside Harry Potter in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Escaped from imprisonment in Malfoy Manor and went on to play an active role in the downfall of Tom Riddle and several Death Eaters during The Battle of Hogwarts.
Draco felt the shame that was becoming a permanent part of him wash over him as he read the card. For the first time since making the decision to return for The Eighth Year, he wished he had stayed home with his mother. He knew his reputation was worthless and his last name permanently besmirched for the rest of his life; yet, somehow, he had convinced himself that if he finished his education and did exceedingly well on his N.E.W.T.S. that he could at least obtain a work position within the magical community. Reading the Chocolate Frog Card put his future in perspective in a way he had not consciously viewed it: Nothing a Malfoy ever did would make up for being on the wrong side in a good versus evil war. Nothing.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Even a shamed Malfoy does not cry when in a position to be caught crying. He slipped the Chocolate Frog Card into an inner pocket of his robe, and looked back out the window without finishing his chocolate. He knew the road ahead of him would not be easy, but he vowed to trudge through it no matter what.
By the time the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station, Draco was counting himself very lucky. Only once had he been disturbed on the journey. A first year had busted into his compartment by accident. One look at Draco, and his eyes had gone wide and he was stumbling backwards, mumbling in fear, before jetting out of the compartment and down the hall. Draco hadn't said a word or even given a nasty sneer in the boy's direction.
Draco waited until the stampede of students disembarking the train was over before leaving his compartment. His wand was up his sleeve, ready to be withdrawn should someone attack. He stepped off the train and looked around him cautiously. Hagrid was yelling for first years, though most of them had already found their way over to him. The other students were already filling the thestral-drawn carriages. Draco couldn't help but wonder how many more students could see the creatures since the war ended. He had been seeing them since his fifth year. He quickly shoved the thoughts away, heading for the carriages.
Draco breathed in, hoping that somehow he could get lucky again and be in a carriage to himself. He stepped into the last carriage and found himself sitting across from two students that appeared to be second or third year Slytherins. Not the luck he was expecting, but luck nonetheless. He nodded at each boy, then turned to look out at the castle ahead. The carriage began moving with a slight jolt. He could feel the eyes of both boys on him, but he didn't look at them until—
"You're Draco Malfoy," one of the boys said in a voice so haughty it could rival Draco's twelve year old arrogance.
Draco studied the boy for a moment before saying quietly, "Yes," on second thought he added, "but it's just Draco, if you don't mind."
To Draco's surprise the boy laughed out loud at him. "Just Draco! That's rich! Do you actually think you can make people forget who you are?"
Draco recovered quickly and answered more quietly than before, "No…no I don't expect that anyone will forget." He returned his eyes to the growing castle. The boys didn't bother him the rest of the way there.
There was no way for Draco to separate himself from the throng of students entering the castle, so he did his best to blend in. He walked towards the Slytherin table, seating himself by habit in the spot he had sat in the years before. It didn't take him long to wish that he hadn't. Not one of his former friends were there, and no one sat anywhere near him; however, seeing as how the table was mostly empty, that wasn't saying much. Draco looked at the Slytherins along the table. He was the oldest among them, and it appeared that it was not only his class absent, but also the class below him and most of the class below them. Again, he felt like his mother might have been right about him returning to Hogwarts.
He knew exactly what his father would say: Now, Draco, you must work hard to restore the Malfoy reputation. As heir, it is your duty. Along the way, restore Slytherin as well. Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes at the thought. His father had always expected perfection from Draco, and was continually disappointed. Draco was very thankful that his father wasn't around to try and control his return to school, or to employ Draco with the Malfoy Duties and Responsibilities speech.
Draco scanned the hall, noticing that almost all the other houses had returned, though the Gryffindor table had several gaps. Of course, everyone knew that the Gryffindor house had sustained many losses during the war. His eyes fell over Harry Potter, looking more happy and laid back than Draco had ever seen him. His arms were folded on the table before him, eyes shining and grin in place as Neville whispered something in his ear.
Draco narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. Harry bit his lip before responding to whatever Neville had been saying. Harry's arms came down off the table, and it appeared that one hand was somewhere in Neville's lap. The two boys seemed to be in their own little world, and the looks and smiles they were sending each other between words was highly suggestive of a relationship beyond friendship, in Draco's opinion.
His attention was pulled away from Harry and Neville as Luna sprang up from the Gryffindor table and made a quick trip back to Ravenclaw, waving goodbye to her Gryffindor friends as she did. Draco sighed as he watched her sit down at her own house table. For probably the millionth time in the past two years, he wondered what his life would have been like if he had let the sorting hat put him where it wanted to.
He could still remember his sorting like it was just yesterday. He had approached the stool, repeating in his head, Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin… over and over again. He panicked as the hat hovered over him and he heard the hat say,(though only to him), Ravenclaw. Draco's thoughts had shouted, No! Slytherin! The hat complied to his demand immediately and shouted, "SLYTHERIN."
Realistically, Draco knew that his father would probably have pulled him out of Hogwarts completely had he been sorted anywhere but in Slytherin. Draco had almost forgotten the hat's desire to sort him into Ravenclaw, until Luna Lovegood had become the newest captive in Malfoy Manor. Since then, he had thought about it constantly. He often wished he had just let the hat put him there…his life would have been so different, assuming that his father wouldn't have disowned him or pulled him out of school.
Draco was glad to have his thoughts disrupted by the entrance of Professor McGonagall and the first year students. The line only contained about twenty or so students—not nearly as many as usual. Professor McGonagall led them to the front of the hall, and stood beside the stool with the Sorting Hat atop it.
"Before we begin the sorting, I have an offer to extend to all returning students," Draco sat up straighter, wondering what could be so important that it should come before the sorting. "Any returning students wishing to be re-sorted will have that opportunity to do so after the first year sorting. The staff of Hogwarts agree that an event as monumental as a war can change every aspect of a person. Of course, we have also consorted with the Sorting Hat on this decision. It is very excited to see which students step forward, and it is very eager to be worn by several of you once again," She paused dramatically, looking around the hall before smiling at the young students lined up before her. "Now, let's begin." With that she pulled out a parchment and began the first year sorting.
Only Draco's life-long training in the control of visible emotions stopped his mouth from dropping open at the announcement the new headmaster had made. Of course he would step forward to be resorted! But as soon as excitement gripped him, so did uncertainty and fear. Stepping forward to be resorted would surely draw unwanted attention to himself. Some of the students would surely mock him—and what if the Sorting Hat decided that Slytherin was the house for him after all? It would be too embarrassing. He couldn't risk it.
And then his newfound conscious spoke to him. He had nothing to risk. No good reputation, no friends, not even pride. He had already lost all that. The only thing stopping him was his own cowardice: The same cowardice that had kept him from standing up to his father and making his own decisions; the same cowardice that kept him from going to Dumbledore for help instead of plotting the man's murder; the same cowardice that stopped him from going to Harry and asking to be part of Dumbledore's Army. He felt a twinge of pain in his chest, realizing again that his entire short life had been ruined because he was nothing but a coward.
The sorting of the first years ended, and Draco was among the rest of the hall in noticing that not one student was sorted into Slytherin. Before anyone could discuss it among themselves, Professor McGonagall opened the floor for any students wishing to be resorted. Draco swallowed all his fear and uncertainty. He rose from his seat and learned for the first time what Bravery felt like. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, but became thankful for it as it seemed to drown out the murmuring of the students all over the Hall. The walk to the front of the Great Hall was the longest walk of his life. Only when he was right in front of McGonagall did he realize that he was the only one that approached to be resorted. He knew his face was bright red. His legs were shaking as though they were trying to break free from his body and run away. The fear he felt in that moment, standing before all the teachers and students, was almost the greatest his fear had ever been.
McGonagall looked down at him. She was obviously shocked to see him there. Draco looked back. After the walk to get in front of her, holding her gaze seemed easy. She didn't say a word; she only looked at him for what felt like a very long time before stepping aside and gesturing for him to step forward and sit on the stool.
Draco's legs were wobbly as he climbed the few steps to the small platform. He had to look down to make sure he didn't fall. He turned around and sat on the stool, forced to look at the many faces gaping up at him. He didn't know when the murmuring had stopped, but all was silent now, as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head.
He was thankful that the hat was big enough to cover his eyes. The darkness somehow made him feel safe, even though he was blind before a room of people that probably wanted to hex him right at this moment. At first the hat said nothing, long enough for Draco to get worried. But then a soft chuckle sounded in his head.
Sorry to worry you, young Malfoy, but I'm just so astounded to be on your head again. Do you know how hard it is to surprise a hat like me? Of course you don't, for you're not a hat like me. The hat chuckled again, The last time you were here, I barely had time to sit upon you. You were so determined to be in Slytherin, that I could see there was no need in arguing with you. No need to tell me what caused the change of heart, I see it all, here in your head.
Do you still think I don't belong to Slytherin? Draco timidly asked.
Oh, Draco, you have spent seven years belonging to Slytherin house…a part of you will always belong to it. But you were never intended for Salazar's House. Just because you were born a Malfoy, does not mean that you are your father, though you have tried so hard to be like him. I am pleased to see that you have stopped that kind of behavior. Draco, you don't have the heart of a Slytherin. Continue what you have begun today—master your fear. You are clever enough to achieve a new destiny and change the opinions that people have of you.
I highly doubt it will be that easy, Draco thought. He felt tears burning his eyes and found it too hard to completely stop them as he listened to the hat.
I think you'll see that some people can be very forgiving when given adequate reason to be. I stand by my decision from years ago. You truly belong to—"RAVENCLAW!" The hat shouted, startling Draco. Too quickly the hat was removed from his head and he was again facing the mass of dumbfounded students. Draco didn't move.
"Mr. Malfoy, you may take your place at the Ravenclaw table," Professor McGonagall urged.
Draco looked at her and stood from the stool. He swallowed heavily and walked to Ravenclaw table. He felt the eyes of everyone in the hall on him. This became the second longest walk he had ever taken in his life. He quickly sat at the end of the table. The few young students near him scooted away from him even further.
As McGonagall began making the usual start of term announcements, the attention of the students slowly moved away from him. He dared to look down the length of the Ravenclaw table. Several students glared at him, obviously not thrilled to have Draco Malfoy in their house. Draco didn't blame them. He found Luna, several seats away from him. She was surrounded by members of her house, but she met Draco's gaze steadily. He found he couldn't look away. When she smiled softly at him before turning her attention to the food that suddenly appeared, Draco felt a burning around his heart.
He looked to his own plate, and modestly covered it with his favorite foods. As he ate alone, he tried to block out the harsh words that found his ears. After all, he hadn't expected for anyone to be glad to see him back at Hogwarts…and he certainly couldn't expect anyone in Ravenclaw house to be accepting about his resorting. But sneaking a glance at the blonde with the radish earrings, he couldn't help but hope that the Sorting Hat was right. Maybe some people could be forgiving. And he found that he desperately wanted Luna to be one of those people.