Note: Okay so this chapter is told from Draco's PoV, it begins about two months after the final battle at Hogwarts and Draco got a pardon to go free from the ministry while his parents and most others he knew are locked away in Azkaban. Sorry the chapter is so short, but it's basically just exposition, trying to give you and idea of how Draco feels. I apologize ahead of time for not sticking to J.K Rowling's story line perfectly, but I tried to remain faithful to it as much as I could.

WHERE THE COLORS DON'T GO

God, how I'd always hated that building. The gothic windows and the cold, hard floors. Of course, being thrown on the floors a number of times, I remembered them well. Oh well, I knew I couldn't stay away from this mansion forever, after all it was my house since dear old Mom and Dad have no use for it in Azkaban. Hell, I was lucky to not be sitting next to them.

That pardon from the ministry was a lucky break for me. Looking back on it, I did have a fairly good case. Painting myself as the mistreated child of a toxic home environment, with myself having no choice but to become a Death Eater. My life story was pretty pitiful when you actually spoke it out loud, but I always saw it as making me tough. Being beaten as a kid made me a badass and that had always worked in my favor.

But still I probably wouldn't have gotten that pardon if Potter had chosen to testify against me. Apparently he was supposed to, but he never showed. Lucky for me. He was probably too busy being treated like royalty. Who would've ever thought that I would be a free man because of Potter. Hah, kind of ironic.

I wished I could've found a different house to live in. The first step into the foyer of the mansion made me sick , I don't know how I could stand living there. There was weeks worth of postage on the floor in the foyer, old Daily prophets and such. I remember the first headline I read:

CHOSEN ONE ACCEPTS AUROR INTERNSHIP AT MINISTRY

Harry Potter, most famously known as the Chosen One has decided to accept

the internship that was offered to him from the new minister, Kingsley Shack-

lebolt. "I always wanted to be an auror and I feel this internship is a great opp-

urtunity for me-

Yadda, yadda, yadda. Of course, it's front page news if the chosen one sneezes let alone accepts an internship at the ministry. I couldn't care less. I didn't have to deal with the prick anymore, but still I read the article despite that. I don't really know why I read it except for the fact that I had nothing better to do. As soon as I had finished the article an owl arrived at the mansion to deliver the day's post.

Nothing really interesting, another Daily Prophet (with nothing about the Chosen One on the cover, shock) that I barely glanced at and a letter addressed to me. I opened it and read.

My Dearest Draco,

I was so relieved to hear that you got a pardon from the ministry. I had been worrying about you ever since you were taken away from the battle with all the other Death Eaters. I must say that I knew you deserved the pardon though.

I've missed you so much Draco, we have to arrange a time to see each other now that we won't see each other at school anymore.

Much Love,

Pansy

I tossed the letter aside. What an insufferable girl she was. She was very dim and impossible to talk to about anything. I would've rather had a conversation with, Hell, even with Potter than with Pansy. She was a pretty girl, but so insipid. I had tried hard not to laugh the first time she told me that she loved me. It was cruel, I know to even think of laughing, but God, I doubt she even knew what the word meant.

The house felt cold and unwelcoming. Hell, it had never really felt warm. I don't know what I was expecting from it. Did I think that now because my parents are locked away that the house wouldn't echo of the ghosts of my past? Did I think that the wails that could be heard in the house would leave no imprint? The people tortured there and even murdered, did I think that their souls would just leave the house at rest?

I guess I never really expected that the house would stand with no sign of its horrific past, but did it have to be so cold? Every step I took felt like it echoed for miles. I swore I could still hear the tormented cries respond to my every footstep. I had no desire to live in that house, to be haunted by the besieged souls that still echoed through the hallways. I did not want to remember my own cries of pain that sounded throughout that mansion.

The mansion had never been a home to me, like my parents had never been parents. The Dark Lord had taken away my youth and my family. This mansion was no home, but my own prison and I had no desire to continue my life here, but I don't believe I had a choice. My soul had been tied to the mansion since the first time I had tortured someone there. I was shackled to the house forever because of my own fear of standing up to my father.

My prison sentence had been far more severe than my parents'. Father and Mother had to live in Azkaban, but there they won't have to face their own demise. They won't be forced to walk every day in the house that destroyed them and made them something montrous, something even subhuman. I have to live here, myslef being constantly tortured by the ghosts of my past, the skeletons in my closet. This house is my own jail, my prison sentence is of my own creation.