House: Ravenclaw | Year: 1 | Category: Drabble | Prompt: [Speech] "Does your mother/father know what you've been up to?" | Word Count: 950
After the war, Draco found his conscience itching constantly, niggling at his mind in the background of every thought, every moment of the day. Guilt for what he had done, for what he had failed to do, ate at him, gnawing him to the bone, and refused to release him or give him a moment's peace. He'd volunteered to help restore the castle, but it hadn't been enough. The castle was only the physical manifestation of the damage that had been wrought, the emotional scars, however, ran much deeper.
There were only so many people that Draco felt he could talk to, or ask for advice. Few trusted him, and even fewer liked him these days - a real departure from his school days. Or maybe it wasn't and his friends had only ever followed him for his name and his family's power.
Draco spent the summer searching for some way to ease his guilt. No, not ease it. He deserved to be guilty, to feel the weight of his actions for all eternity. But he could make reparations for his actions, make the world a better place. He could try, at least. It was harder than he thought, which was why Draco found himself standing outside the Headmistress' office early in November.
It was cold and damp, as November so often was. He'd gotten rather wet during the walk from Hogsmeade, so his blond hair was stuck to his forehead. He was thinner than he'd ever been before in his life and more ragged than the horrible years under Voldemort's thumb. No one wanted to hire an ex-Death Eater, and he'd split from his family—or at least from the wealth and influence of his father.
He muttered the password, and the gargoyle sprung to life, stepping aside as the staircase wound upward. Upon reaching the top, Draco knocked lightly against the ornate wooden door. It swung open of its own accord, and he stepped inside. Professor McGonagall sat at her heavy mahogany desk, so different from Dumbledore's, as she thumbed through a newspaper, barely glancing up at him.
"Please, have a seat," she said as Draco drew closer and obligingly, he planted himself in the armchair opposite her.
They were quiet for a few minutes as she finished reading her article, before neatly folding the paper and setting it aside.
"Mr Malfoy, what can I do for you?" she asked curtly, though not quite rudely.
"You know that I regret… everything," Draco said, fidgeting a little. "And I've been trying to do things... to help fix what happened."
"I do," she said, softening a bit.
"But so far… it's all just stuff, not… not helping actual people," he said, trying to convey his emotions, but feeling somewhat short on words.
"Sometimes, we must heal our bodies before we can begin to heal our minds," Professor McGonagall answered, her eyes clouding as she looked off into the distance, not seeing him, or any of the room in front of her.
"You sound like Dumbledore," he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Yes, a bit too much for my liking actually," she smiled, her eyes wrinkling. She always had been much more direct than her mentor. "Still, there's something there."
"I feel like it's time to take the next step," Draco said. "I need to do more."
Professor McGonagall nodded, seeming to understand how he felt, and she began rifling through her desk drawers. He sat quietly, wondering what she was looking for, until with a small 'aha', she extracted a folder from one of the lower drawers, and set it down on top of the desk. It had 'Phoenix' written in big letters across the cover.
"Over the summer, I began an organization for those who were left behind by the war," she began to explain. "There are two homes - one for wizarding children who were orphaned, and one for muggle kids. Ideally, the two would be together, but I couldn't do it without breaking the International Statute of Secrecy. There's also a counseling center for adults struggling to cope with the aftermath, and they do some visits to the homes as well."
Draco wasn't sure what to say. It sounded like a brilliant organization, but he wasn't sure why she was telling him about it. He certainly wasn't a qualified counselor of any kind. And he's not sure that the wizarding world would accept him working with their orphaned children in any way.
"The director of the muggle children's home has just given me her notice, so I need to find a replacement," Professor McGonagall continued. "I think you might be a good fit for the position."
"I don't know about that," Draco said, trying very hard not to wrinkle his nose at the idea of snotty little children running around.
"Mr Malfoy, I think you would be surprised how much you come to care about children under your protection," she answered. "In any case, I believe the position would be good for you, as well as for the children. Here is the address, if you report there tomorrow, Sonya will begin instructing you in what needs to be done so you can be fully prepared when you take over the position next month."
"Right," Draco answered, sensing that he had very little say in this. But then, perhaps he wasn't meant to enjoy making amends.
"Draco, does your father know what you've been up to?" Professor McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"Wait till he hears about this," Draco scoffed, echoing the words he had said so many times. "No - can you imagine? He'd be horrified. But that's really why it needs to be done."