Professor McGonagall stood patiently waiting in their living room, staring out of the window. Frankly, she had preferred not to make this visit in person, but he had left her with no choice; when her owls had been returned unopened, she knew she had to complete the task in person, like Dumbledore would have.
The sound of his footsteps were growing louder and louder until he stood in the doorway.
"Mr Malfoy, thank you for meeting me" she turned and greeted him. He gestured towards the armchairs, but remained silent. As she moved to sit in the armchair, she hid her assortment of shock and dismay at his changed features. She had read the report from his trial, but she didn't need to: it was written all over his features, from his hollowed face to the dark purple circles under his eyes.
"I gather that you know the reason for my presence".
"I'm not returning to Hogwarts." He said in a tone of finality, but gone were his smug conviction and arrogance.
"Mr Malfoy, you have served your time in Azkaban and have been declared innocent. It is a new year of school and a time to rebuild the magical community," she replied in her determined, unfaltering tone.
"It isn't as simple as that," he looked away. She had anticipated that this wasn't going to be easy.
"No matter how complex your feelings or conflicting your thoughts, the war is over. People have grieved. But we are ready to move on, together," she eyed him.
He stood up, frustrated that she wasn't listening to him.
"I can't, fucking hell," he moved his hand through his hair. "You don't know what it's been like for me," he said, defeated.
"You have almost won your battle. This is the final step for you."
He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Draco Malfoy was feeling extremely claustrophobic and would have probably given up his inheritance to escape the current situation.
"NO," he barked. Shit, he needed to regain control. "No, I can't go back there," he replied quieter. But his thoughts fled to his fears and he started to panic, pacing the length of the room.
"Don't you see?" His voice was growing louder. "I've spent the past two months trapped in Azkaban. Why would I want to go from one prison to another?"
Professor McGonagall was wary that he was disintegrating.
"This has been and will continue to be a difficult journey Mr Malfoy; but it is the right one."
"Akaban? Difficult?" He chuckled and said bitterly "to put it mildly-"
"But you have strength in you." She stood up to face him, "Albus saw it and so do I."
He froze at the mention the name. Albus Dumbledore. The man that had started it all: the beginning of the end.
It was because of Dumbledore that he had been set the task. It was because Dumbledore believed in him that he failed. It was because of Dumbledore that every person who passed him scowled at him. But it was also because of Dumbledore, that he had been led to a bittersweet enlightenment, for which he would always be indebted.
"This is your chance. It is an opportunity for you to, for the first time, complete a task for yourself. I assure you that at the end, you will be resurrected with a new found pride and respect, stronger than before."
Draco could tell that she was getting under his skin, and damn it- it was making him doubt himself. He shook off the self-doubt and tried to clear his thoughts.
His old professor placed the letter that he had retuned several times on the side table, walked to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.
"I expect to see you in my office after dinner on the first day back for the Heads introduction meeting."
Truly shocked, he stuttered,
"I'm Head Boy?"
She replied, facing the fireplace "Albus believed in you and so do I, Mr Malfoy. It is time to present a united front and show Hogwarts that you have changed." Up roared green flames and she had disappeared.
Draco's head was spinning. Did McGonagall just say that he was Head Boy?
- o -
On the first morning, Draco had berated himself for losing his composure, making him vulnerable in front of the old witch.
By the second afternoon, his fury had burnt out and he was left with the sobering thoughts of how far he had come but also how far he had yet to go.
During the third day night, his insomnia had decided to return with a renewed bout of hostility.
It was on the fourth evening that Narcissa Malfoy sought Draco out on the balcony of the west wing, facing the garden. She knew she'd find him here, be it motherly instinct or not, he always isolated himself on the balcony when he was troubled.
"You will be the first Head Boy in the family, Draco."
He wasn't surprised that she'd read the letter addressed to him, he knew her better than that. But he was taken aback by the fact that she believed he would go back there.
"I'm not retuning to Hogwarts, mother" he remained facing the gardens and admired the view before the inevitable argument disturbed his almost serene evening.
She walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"This is not the place for stubbornness. It is time we became independent and stood for our own beliefs. We have just endured a horrific war, and it would disrespect your father if you forgot what we so painfully learned."
"Disrespect father?" Draco snorted and turned to face her, "going to Hogwarts and befriending the people that tried to kill him would be the description of disrespecting father."
"We cannot afford to make any more mistakes, Draco!" She scolded, "returning to Hogwarts will show society that our allegiances have changed for the better-"
"I am not imprisoning myself with blood traitors for a year so that your social calendar can return to its former vigour," he spat back.
Narcissa immediately withdrew her hand and looked away. She walked towards the balcony's entrance attempting to leave, but halted before the door.
"You are no longer a child and I will not force you to make the right decision, Draco. But I sat back and watched this happen last time. It was these small, individual choices that led your father towards his path of darkness, and I will not let it happen to you." But before he could reply, she opened the door and strode inside.
Memories of his father crippling on floor of his Azkaban cell flashed before him. He tried to push the images away, but the truth was glaring at him in the face. He had to stand up for himself and carve out his own fate in order to avoid his father's.
Grudgingly, he agreed with his mother's valid point and as much as he didn't want to admit it, she was right: he had to return to Hogwarts.
Draco turned back and gazed towards the garden. But, as suspected, the scenery didn't have quite the same tranquil effect it did just ten minutes ago.