Begins at the end of DH- or rather, right before the epilogue, and branches off from there to be Draco/Harry. Wayyyyyyyy later in the story. D:
They sat in the middle of the Great Hall, on the floor, cross-legged. Around them, people ran, screamed, cried, hugged... mourned.
They did not do any of those things.
They had found who they were looking for- a tiny little peace, an oasis, but certainly the problems between them were much overshadowing any comfort they might have derived from that.
They were the Malfoys, and currently they were all too ashamed to look anyone in the eye, even each other. Mostly, they were invisible to those around them, though at one point a sympathetic-looking man stopped to offer them some bread from a plate the house elves had brought up.
Draco had cordially said, "Thank you, Professor Slughorn," and it had ended there. Narcissa and Lucius had nodded, moving their mouths asynchrously in something that might have been "thanks" if they'd had the willpower to put air through their voiceboxes.
Professor Slughorn had sighed.
"Draco, there is absolutely no reason you or your family should feel unwelcome."
They didn't see how that was possible, but Draco had felt the need to keep being polite.
"We'll keep that in mind."
Somebody, in their haste to reach another nameless someone across the room, nearly tripped over Draco. He hardly seemed to notice.
"I mean that."
"I know."
"Well, goodbye. And good luck. I mean that sincerely."
"Thank you."
He left, and none of them were sure whether they preferred the awkwardness of his presence or the awkwardness of its absence.
Lucius finally spoke.
"We should go home."
"Where is 'home'?" Narcissa asked, in a very small voice. "After all that's happened... I really don't wish to go back to the manor. Not yet, anyway."
Nobody else seemed to have anything to say.
For the first time that any of them had ever seen, Lucius raked his hand through his hair, leaving it to spill back out, disheveled. Narcissa reached out like she wanted to comb it with her fingers back into place, but pulled back at the last moment. She'd very neatly tied up her own long, wavy hair into a bun, but it had since frayed, and nearly an entire white strand stuck out from her head, straight up.
Lucius took that same hand that she'd so shyly stretched out in both of his own and pressed it to his mouth, resting his face against it in a way. Narcissa watched him with tenderness, looking much less hollow.
Draco watched them both from where he was supporting his head on his hands, which were supported by his elbows on his knees. It was probably the most forlorn position he'd ever assumed.
"I suppose... we could spend the night in an inn in Hogsmeade." Lucius still had enough pride that the words sounded distasteful to him.
They looked at Draco suddenly, seeming to notice him for the first time since the subject had been brought back up.
"Draco, dear, what do you think?" Narcissa said, combing her hair back into place and sitting up straight again. She leaned over to fix his collar, which had popped out of place in the fights, and ran her finger over a burn that was on his cheek. "My poor baby," she suddenly said, drawing out her wand, just like when he was young and had skinned his knees. She waved her wand over his cheek and the burn bubbled for a moment, healing itself under her magic, just as the scrapes had when he was five.
"It's better than going back there," Draco said, repeating his mother's sentiments with a sudden vehemence that surprised himself most of all.
"That's settled, then," Lucius said, and at that moment, Narcissa and Draco suddenly realized he felt the same way they did about the manor at this moment.
So they left.
The hotel they stayed in- the only one with any room left- was dirty and dingy and Draco dodged a few cockroaches on his way up the narrow creaky stairs.
The room they had acquired for the night was just as bad as the rest of the hotel, and to make things worse was only one room, with two beds. So they all sat awake, staring at the ceiling, for several hours.
They didn't sleep at all, and when the bluish dawn shone in their window, Narcissa got up and left. Lucius and Draco watched her shut the door behind herself.
She returned with three bottles of butterbeer and some pastries.
"In the morning?" Lucius said, slightly disturbed.
She shrugged, and opened a bottle, and pinching its neck between two pale fingers, lifted it to her still-lipsticked mouth and took a sip. She gave Draco and Lucius something flaky and sugary to eat.
"I would have brought tea. But I couldn't really find anyplace to get some..."
Lucius accepted the bottle. "It'll be something, anyway."
The butterbeer, good as it was, did very little to help their spirits. Narcissa put her head on Lucius's shoulder as he sat on the tiny inn bed, drinking his butterbeer. Draco concentrated on the fuzzy feeling developing behind his eyes. They all tried to avoid looking at the walls of the room, which were, in the warm light of morning, more clearly cracked and dirty than they had appeared in the dark last night. Something scurried into a hole in the corner, and Narcissa squeaked as Lucius and Draco simultaneously shuddered.
"We'll have to go home sometime," Lucius said.
Narcissa closed her eyes and nodded slowly against his shoulder. The same morning light that illuminated the cracks and mysterious stains on the walls illuminated the purple circles under her eyes, so much more prominent against her paper-pale skin.
"Hmph," said Draco.
Draco's hair felt cold and greasy in the morning air- just looking at the shower in the room had made him feel dirtier, and he almost put his hood up to hide his face. But he imagined that would only draw more stares to himself, and so he refrained.
It didn't feel like he was a Malfoy anymore. Being a Malfoy meant you kept your pride in the worst of moments, and here, darting through the early-morning crowds of Hogsmeade, haggard, unable to look in anyone's eyes-
That was as far away from proud as he could get, he imagined. His parents were faring better, but not by much. Their heads were held high, but Draco knew that they were just looking above anyone that looked at them, not to mention the way they were sort of clutching each other, almost like a very awkward three-legged race.
They Disapparated from the village at the outskirts, where there were fewer people, and found themselves at the steps to Malfoy Manor- well, Draco wasn't quite as close as his parents, but he made it there all the same. Their shoes clicked on the stone path to the house, and Lucius opened the door carefully.
Narcissa walked inside and broke down in tears.
"It's just so... cold..."
The other Death Eaters had put out the fires before they left. Draco knew what she meant. The fireplaces, one at each end of the great Main Hall, had never been out, not once in his entire lifetime. There was always someone here, tending them... He imagined that, just to rub salt in the wound, they'd freed the elves.
Lucius put his arms around her.
"It's okay," he said. "We can relight them."
She shook her head.
"But it won't be the same."
They moved on through the house, drawing their cloaks closer to themselves, stepping over what was left behind when the Death Eaters fled. They'd destroyed the manor when they were there, hardly caring that things were expensive or important. Then again, they hadn't cared much about the Malfoys themselves... Draco wasn't sure who had caused him more shame. The Death Eaters and their treatment of the Malfoy family, or the Good Side, with Saint Potter and his band of misfits, who had given the Malfoys sympathetic looks on their way out of the Great Hall. Draco could feel his blood rushing to his face at the mere thought of it... whichever one it was.
Draco entered his room for the first time in what felt like years, though he had slept here no more than two days ago. It felt... different. Colder. Darker. Everything was neat, so he supposed that the elves had cleaned it at least once while he was gone. He sighed and lay down on it, looking around at his room, and noticed that however different it might feel, it hadn't visibly changed.
No... it was Draco who had changed.
He buried his face in his pillow, and was suddenly absolutely exhausted, and fell asleep with his clothes still on.