The war has ended, then. There, hastily in front of everyone. It took a few seconds before the students and teachers started chearing, and everyone on the other side started running. But even after these few seconds of silently acknologing what most thought impossible, three people stood quietly in the middle of the cheering crowd. Three people who once thought they knew where they belong, but now were as lost as anyone could ever be.
The Malfoy family for once passed unoticed as everyone was too busy mourning or surrounding their heroes. Narcissa held Draco in a tight hug, that was soon imitated by Lucius. They were together. And had once again survived the war.
If there was one thing anyone could say about the Malfoys is that they were survivors. They had chosen the wrong side twice, and fow these two times, gotten away with it and managed to survive. Survived the ministry's trials the first time, survived the Dark Lord's fury towards their betrayal and survived the Lord's fury over their failiures.
They had also failed plenty. Draco sat quietly besides his parents and not a word was said between them that night. There was no joy nor sadness in the air between them, only the surprising discovery that they were all alive and well. Or as well as they could ever be.
Once back home, Draco and his parents parted ways as they went to sleep in their respective chambers. Again not a word was spoken.
The boy took his time walking through the halls and corridors of the once respectful Malfoy mannor. The place where he grew up, the place where he was taught he was special, superior, better. He looked around and he saw his life as it really was. He saw himself at age 7, learning how to ride a broom, and saw his father telling him we was going to be the best seeker at school. He saw himself getting the expected letter to Hogwarts, and being so excited he couldn't talk about anything else for days, just imagining the impression the he would make at the school, a member of the noble Malfoy family. He saw himself talking to Theodore Nott, discussing who was better at quidditch, and isulting Harry Potter.
But as he looked around, more memories came. More recent, more painful. He saw his father being arrested on the news. He saw himself taking on the task of killing Dumbledore, and takind the dark mark on his arm. He saw his aunt Bellatrix teaching him occlumency. He saw his mother's desperate look. He saw and old man, wandless at his mercy, and remembered not being able to make himself kill him. He saw a Hogwarts professor being killed on his dining room. He saw Harry Potter and remembered his ridiculous attempt to conceal his identity. He saw Hermione Granger, the girl he tormented at school, being tortured right before his eyes and not being able to do anything.
He didn't do anything then and didn't do anything now. His knees gave in and he fell to the floor, kneeled before the life he never meant to have. Tears streamed down his face as he wished he was someone - anyone - other than Draco Malfoy.