Uncertain
He was gone.
Draco wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. The moment he had seen the Dark Lord fall he had been struck with fear as to what was to come.
He was faced with questions which each held infinite answers and as he pondered he saw that none of them held hope.
He had made his beliefs and his followings so clear.
Nothing would save him from the lingering sentence, whether it be death or life imprisonment.
He looked sadly around at his housemates, sighting many expressions that mirrored his thoughts and others which looked relieved. Around them, so many were celebrating but despite knowing that the events of this night had been for the best, he was uncertain if he could join in.
He stared across at the Gryffindor table, where people were crowding around.
There Potter sat, so modest in his victory that Draco found he couldn't hate. His green eyes gazed around at the people surrounding him, an obvious mixture of feelings within.
But as Potter's eyes met his, Draco felt a sudden hope.
Something in those orbs of green showed understanding and forgiveness.
Draco looked away to his father, who merely shrugged and made to stand.