The Garden Wall
Outside the garden wall, the wizarding world celebrated and grieved simultaneously. The Daily Prophet was full to the brim every day with both stories of triumph and stories of loss. The obituary section seemed to grow a little with each published issue.
Outside the garden wall, families gathered to celebrate the survivors and mourn the lost. Friends arrived at homes unannounced, no longer needing to be announced, and sat with their loved ones as they cycled through the celebration and the grief.
Outside the garden wall, life was moving forward. People picked up the shattered pieces of their lives and looked for some semblance of normalcy. Mothers cooked dinner, children met with friends. Adults traveled to and from work. Like nothing had changed. Yet everything had changed.
Outside the garden wall, Draco Malfoy was a pariah. He inspired looks of hatred and resentful stares. People spat at his feet. People sneered at him. People loathed him.
He no longer ventured outside the garden wall.
The world was grieving even as it celebrated the downfall of the Dark Lord. So many lives lost, so many families torn apart forever. They blamed him as they blamed all unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side. He and the others bore literal marks of shame.
He dropped the Prophet on the ground. It was still delivered every day, though why his mother continued to subscribe was lost on him. The front page showed yet another picture of Harry Potter attending yet another funeral. He'd gone to every one caused by the battle at Hogwarts so far, even for those he hadn't known. The picture showed several people gathered at a small grave, sobbing with heartbreak. Harry Potter stood off to the side, his ever-faithful lackeys behind him.
Draco Malfoy wanted to feel contempt. He wanted to feel scorn and superiority. He wanted to roll his eyes and toss the paper into the fire and laugh about it. He wanted to pass this off as stupidity. He could do none of that. He could only stare at Harry Potter's haunted face, at the eyes that looked so hard and lifeless now. That Harry Potter certainly didn't look like a man who had just won a war and secured the safety for wizards everywhere.
The paper was scattered with similar photos - more with Harry Potter in them, some without - of families and friends grieving. The paper covered nothing but the aftermath of the war these days. Quidditch had ceased to exist as an item of importance. Politics were only reported because of reforms happening within the Ministry due to the war. Court cases were only reported if they involved the trials of Death Eaters.
The world was as obsessed with war now that it was over as it had been while it had waged. Only now the tone had shifted from terror to hope.
Outside the garden wall, people had hope. Hope for a brighter future, hope for a better life. Survivors had hope for their loved ones. Parents had hope for their children. Children had hope for their futures. The side of Light was allowed to grieve, allowed to hope, allowed to celebrate.
Because they'd won.
Outside the garden wall, Draco Malfoy was not allowed to grieve. He was not allowed to hope, and he certainly was not allowed to celebrate. Draco Malfoy had no reason to grieve outside the garden wall. His constant companion since age eleven may have died, but that was his own fault. Draco Malfoy had no reason to hope outside the garden wall. He was not entitled to hope. He had no right. Draco Malfoy had no reason to celebrate outside the garden wall. He had lost.
Because he was a Death Eater.
But inside the garden wall, away from prying eyes and judgmental glances, Draco Malfoy grieved. He grieved one of the only two people he'd ever had who would call him their friend, even if he hadn't returned the sentiment. He grieved his aunt who had never loved him, but had trained him to fight, to defend himself, to have a tough skin and to shield his mind. He grieved his family's well-being. He grieved for his father on trial, for his mother alone with her thoughts. He grieved for the fallen who had followed blindly.
Inside the garden wall, Draco Malfoy dared to have hope. The world was changing day by day. Families were mending themselves, the Ministry was putting itself back together, villages and towns were clearing their streets of rubble and debris, reconstruction had begun at Hogwarts. The future looked brighter with every passing day, and Draco Malfoy dared to hope the world was becoming a better place.
Inside the garden wall, Draco Malfoy even celebrated, just a little. His family was alive; he'd lost neither of his parents, and his home, while haunted from the horror of its recent inhabitants, was mostly unscathed. The evil creature who he'd once so worshiped, then loathed and feared, was dead, never to return.
He'd been on the losing side, but he'd won too.
Inside the garden wall, Draco Malfoy was not a pariah. He was not hated, spat on or sneered at. His mother could not look at him without tears in her eyes, but they were tears that expressed just how grateful she was to still have him, even if seeing his face reminded her of her absent husband.
Outside the garden wall, the world celebrated and grieved and hoped. Draco Malfoy did not belong to that world; perhaps he never had. Outside the garden wall, Draco Malfoy was denied celebration, grief and hope. He was less than nothing. He was a Death Eater.
So Draco Malfoy stayed inside the garden wall, hiding from a world that hated him now just as he had hidden during the war. Some things never changed, he supposed. He glanced at the discarded paper again. Everything had changed.
Inside the garden wall, Draco Malfoy celebrated. He grieved. And he had hope. And as he sat there, staring at the photograph of a man who who was haunted by war and was also celebrating and grieving and hoping, Draco Malfoy realized that they weren't so different after all, so long as he stayed inside his garden wall.
Well, this is a little brain child of mine as well as an experiment. I've recently become insatiably fascinated with the Malfoys. I've been trying to see if I can't put together a short story about Draco and Astoria, but I haven't quite pinned down his personality. Since this piece had nothing to do with personality and everything to do with emotions, it was much easier to portray him this way. I'll continue to explore him probably. We'll see if anything happens.
That said, this story is a stand-alone piece. I guess I just felt rather poetic today or something; I don't know. With the end of my senior year of high school fast approaching, I've been prone to philosophical and "deep" moods, so this is the product of one of those combined with the lack of desire to do any real homework and/or studying for my exams. Hope you enjoyed.
Please review. :)