Author's note:

This is a fanfiction about Draco's student life after the Battle of Hogwarts, in his last year. Themes are bullying, a small scene regarding self harm so this is a trigger warning in advance. It's my first time writing a fanfic, so feedback would be highly appreciated.

I felt like the choice of Astoria being Draco's future wife wasted a lot of potential for his character to develop, so I created a character of my own. No hate please; it's just my opinion on things and what felt to me would've been a more interesting back story. DM me your comments, positive or negative and I'll respond and try my best to correct any errors I've made. And yep, that's it. Hope you enjoy it!

The Last Year at Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Pumpkin Juice

Draco sat up on the stiff infirmary bed and looked around while anxiously waiting for Madam Pomfrey's arrival. His eyes settled on a corner of the infirmary that was covered by a pile of rubble; repairs were not yet finished at Hogwarts.

Three months after the great Battle of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmaster, announced that the last year would be started anew due to the misconduct and serious deviation from rules carried out by the Death Eaters. "It is not compulsory for those who were present at the battle of course," she had stated. "But this would provide them with a healthy distraction while they recover both physically and mentally, and provide a sanctum to those who now consider Hogwarts their only home until a new one can be found for them."

Draco had a choice between his own home and Hogwarts. Much to his parent's shock and dismay, he chose the latter. He had no wish to be around the ex-Death Eaters or walk the dreary halls of Malfoy Manor, even if it meant that he would suffer backlash from the students of his school.

He did, however, underestimate the intensity of the hate that they bore, as well as overestimated his ability to handle it. Two months into the new term, the hushed and terrified whispers around him grew into loud taunts and insults. Pranks were played on him by those who were most bitter about the battle and he was unable to stand up for himself as he normally would, because with each day and each cruel word, he felt more strongly that he deserved to be punished and resented due to his crimes and his affiliation with Lord Voldemort. Even those in Slytherin house feared him. For the first time, he was at Hogwarts alone.

The quiet and distinct sound of footsteps roused him from the depressing thoughts running through his head, and he drew out his arm, face contorting with pain, as Madam Pomfrey's shadow loomed over him. He tried not to betray any sign of discomfort under her critical and watchful gaze as she cleaned and redressed his wounds.

"You ought to tell the teachers what you're going through, Mr. Malfoy," she chided after a long and awkward silence. "I worry for your health."

"Isn't it your job to worry for the students' health?" he muttered under his breath. She scowled at him, the words not unnoticed.

"You still ought to tell."

He sat there in silence.

"Clearly this was self inflicted, Mr. Malfoy!" she said loudly and impatiently.

His mind raced back to the past week when some student found him asleep in the library over a potion's book. While he was asleep, a spell was sneakily cast onto the back of his robes, bestowing on him the title 'Death Eater' in bright emerald. He had no idea of it until after he took the robes off before going to bed, because nobody had bothered to inform him or fix what was written on his back. It made his cheeks burn with shame and anger; most of all, disgust at himself and his past actions. In his fury he went to the boys' bathroom and inflicted curse after curse after curse on the red scar-like image on his arm that resembles his old Dark Mark. But no matter how deep he cut, or how many different ways he sliced open the skin on which the scar had settled, the red tint would not go away. He then staggered to the infirmary that night and a horrified Madam Pomfrey's tended to him with discretion, much to his relief.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answered grimly, once more recalled to the present.

She shook her head indignantly. "Stubborn as a mule, you are, and equally stupid too! Drink this; it will ease the pain," she said while handing him a cup of clear liquid.

He took one sip and almost choked, coughing and sputtering after getting it down. It tasted bitter and acidic.

"It's disgusting!" he exclaimed, unable to keep his composure.

"Well what did you expect?" she replied with a ghost of a smile on her face. "Pumpkin juice?"

He chuckled as she left.

"No ma'am."