A/N: Okay, so my life IRL pretty much SUCKS. It's sucked for a while, actually. I hate it. And I will admit, a few years ago, I actually did have some disturbing thoughts. But I'm over those now. :) But yeah, life atm is really not making me feel good. So I took all my feelings of pain and anger and self-loathing and whatnot and poured them into a fanfic. :) And this is the result. This is a fic told from Draco's POV, after the war. It's kinda about how he keeps going. It actually started as a pretty good description of my life, but then took a life of its own, and magically turned into this.

Don't worry, I'm still working on my other fics. After a week of hiatus, I'm back on the GinRan fic. As well as my Drarry fic. And I had an idea for ANOTHER Drarry fic at about 1:00 this morning. :P So I'll be working on those as well. But I Will Survive is pretty short, so I won't bore you with the A/N. I just have the disclaimer left, and then I sincerely hope you enjoy I Will Survive! As always, reviews are appreciated. They feed me. I live on them. Come on, guys, show me the love! :P Lol! I will answer all those who are logged in through PM, and all anons through another review, something I JUST learned I could do. It's pretty sweet. So anons, defo stick around! But yeah, I'm cutting my ramblings short now. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Everything here you recognize [aka characters, names, residual plot, references, etc.] belongs to J.K. Rowling. Not TabbyCat33098. The only thing I own is the absolute feelings of pain and self-loathing you will most likely experience throughout this fic. :P

EDIT: Only changing the title name. If you get a PM or something, I haven't done anything different. :)

EDIT v.2: Only changing this chapter in regards to the Purge. This fic is not being "Purged" as rereading it [any part of it] brings up memories I'd rather not relive. Sorry that this isn't as clean as my other fics, it's just too painful.


Survival

Obviously, life right now is unbearable. Wizards sneer at me, mothers hide their children from me, people cross the street rather than walk on the same sidewalk as me.

But I hold my head high. I do not let the hurt and anger show. My mask has been glued in place, because Malfoys cannot be broken.

And I will not break. I will be whole again. It may take some time, but it will happen. I will stay strong. I will not let their cruel laughter and fearful faces affect me. I will survive. Unlikely as it seems, I will go on.

I would be so easy to grab my wand, the wand returned by Harry Potter, and go on a rampage, rekindling the Dark Lord's ideals. It would be easy to simply slide my gilded knife across my wrists and let the red rivers stream down my arms as the icy pain cleared my mind. It would be easy to just use my silver dagger to slice my throat, or cut my wrists, to let the blood flow until the vessel ran dry.

Yes, it would be so easy to do these things. But I don't. I will push forward. It saddens me that what keeps me going, what keeps me alive, is not the prospect of Mother's sadness at my death, nor the cold anger that Father, that bastard, would feel at the end of the Malfoy line. No, I have a multitude of reasons, and those are not included.

First and foremost, most likely, is the thought of redemption. The thought that maybe, some day, I might be good enough for the world again. And so I quietly help restore Hogwarts to its former glory. I stand in the shadows, removing the rubble. I run my small apothecary in Knockturn Alley, raking in just enough Galleons to survive. And I continue to live.

But that is only my outward drive, the drive that I use as my shield. For I have an inner hope as well, on that I would never reveal. Not under Veritaserum, not under Crucio, not even under the threat of Avada Kedavra. I hope, some day, to repay the debt I owe the Golden-bloody-Trio, the debt I owe Harry Potter. The debt I incurred when they rescued me from the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, when they rescued Greg, when they attempted to rescue Vince. It would feel like cheating to end my existence without having repaid my debt. For some reason, I don't want to let down Harry Potter.

Which brings me to my last reason, on that I have not full acknowledged to myself, even. I don't want to let Potter down. I see the hope in his eyes, that some day, scum like me, like Yaxley, like Avery, can reform. I attend his rehabilitation sessions, one of the few who actually show up on a regular basis. I try to show that I want to change. I see the glow in his eyes. The glow of happiness. And I know that that glow is reflected in my own eyes, albeit for a different reason. My glow is the glow of hope. Hope that I can change, hope that I can reach the standards Potter has set. Hope that I can be redeemed.

And so we come full circle.

Surprisingly, it doesn't feel that bad, being on Potter's good side. I don't understand why we hated each so much back in school. Could I really have been that spoiled? Just because he refused my offer of friendship, could I really have been as cruel as to attempt to make his life hell? Maybe if I hadn't, I would've come out on top.

But it isn't too late to change. At least, that's what Potter tells us. And I'm taking his words to heart for once. I will change. For change is the key to survival.

And I will survive.