TEACUPS
cette
[1/1]
The cafeteria in the Ministry for Magic was bustling. It seemed that in the few years that had followed the second war, even more people worked at the ministry, yet they seemed to forget to extend their cafeteria space. Draco Malfoy thought it to be a waste, but at least he had managed to secure himself a small table in a corner away from the hustle.
It had been three years, and the people hadn't stopped staring. Draco moved the handle on his teacup so it was symmetrical with the edge of the table. He nudged the saucer so the designs matched. He wasn't really thinking about it, but it was the only thing that gave him small comfort.
Draco glanced at the paper sitting next to him. The headline read "HARRY GETTING MARRIED? – The chosen one has finally decided to settle down with long time girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley. Potter proposed last weekend in a private setting..." Draco looked down at the smiling faces of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley, the red-headed witch showing off her diamond ring. It was simple but beautiful nonetheless. Draco changed the symmetry of his teacup to the other side, as if expecting different results.
Draco looked up into the cafeteria and saw the chosen one himself, being swarmed by people. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, and Draco looked down, checking his cup. He could still remember all the things Harry had done since the end of the war that affected him – saving his life, testifying in the courts on his and his mother's behalf, ensuring that the ministry wasn't prejudiced against getting purebloods jobs – and as wonderful as other people described it, Draco wanted to hate him for it. He wanted to hate Saint Potter for being so perfect, but he couldn't. He couldn't let himself say thank you either. He was stuck in the middle, trying to find the balance for which he was supposed to live.
The Malfoys were outcasts, in every sense of the word. The purebloods despised them, the muggleborns feared them, and the halfbloods treated them with contempt. Draco could remember the slim years past when he revelled in his history and proclaimed his bloodline. Now he couldn't wait to be left in the forgotten, because it was better than being loathed.
Draco took another sip of tea, and switched the placement of his cup. He flipped through the paper idly, trying to ignore the loud cheers and innuendos coming from the Potter table. He noticed many Weasleys – the newest being Audrey Weasley, an assistant in the international cooperation office, and a variety of other DA affiliates. Draco sipped his tea again. If he'd asked his ten year old self if they'd be on the losing side of the war he would have said it was preposterous. But this version of Draco didn't consider himself a loser, but a grey area, within the blurred lines that no one had bothered to explain to him when he didn't understand. He rearranged his cup.
Draco stood, and gave one last glance to the Potter party to the left. He touched his right arm to his left and grimaced. The scar that had remained was the shadow of his past – perfectly symmetrical, and only a little faded, but never to disappear.
I think Draco Malfoy comes in to being a quite interesting character in the later books. This was me attempting some insight into his mind post war, and how he got to King's Cross, nodding at Harry and Ron in respect. I think I'll write a companion piece after this, but for the moment it's stand alone. Tell me what you think, please.
