A/N: Hello! This is my first fic I've ever published though I've been writing for awhile. Please RR! I need feed back to improve my writing, but all flames will be used to roast marshmallows!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy. Hello? Fanfiction.
It had been nothing but a dream. It was foolish to become upset over a dream. It was foolish to become upset. It stated with a man roughly moving him to the side. Then the man, and several others like him, walked into his home and (not bothering with respect), searched everywhere. Under tables in the drawers looking for their evidence. Next thing he knew, all that remained was ash.
I was in Azkaban again. Then, suddenly there they were. My broken family, and the falsely sympathetic crowd, the looks on their faces conveying that they were concerned, but they weren't, not really. My father sitting in that chair, the dark ragged robes of a dementor suspended all around him. And then he was gone. I knew he wouldn't come back, for this was a memory, not quite a dream.
They said I would be gone too, just whispers in hushed voices, 'oh, that Malfoy boy. Nasty fate he ended up with. Deserved it too.' Around the street corners. But then Potter of all people objected. Said I'd had no choice, that I'd been doing what I had to for my family. No one believed that, except him, not even me. But he was Harry Potter, the amazing hero, as always. That was that. And this time I was grateful.
I turned in bed. I looked at my beautiful and loving wife. Thought of my child just down the hall, and did something I hadn't done in years.
I cried. I cried in relief and in pain for everything I had lost, and cried for all I had gained and the hope that it would never be taken from me.