Look what I've become, I thought as I stared at my expressionless reflection. I'm scum compared to what I used to be.

Similar thoughts had been racing through my head since the blasted war had ended and left me (and my mother) with nothing. And when I say nothing, I literally mean nothing. When Potter killed the Dark Lord, everything had changed obviously. The Malfoy named no longer meant anything to the Wizarding world. Well, aside from the negative aspects that had been multiplied by a good 100 times over.

"Draco, darling." My mother's voice was heard from outside my bedroom door. "Come down for supper."

She sounded worse than before; something that didn't seem achievable, looking back to the past couple of days. She was so fragile and weak. If I was being completely honest with myself though, I looked loads worse.

"I'll be right down," I called meekly to her from where I stood. I heard her footsteps echo down the abandoned hallway and down the staircase.

Sighing to myself, I reached for my sleeves that had been pushed up to my elbows and tugged them down begrudgingly. They covered the scars. I couldn't even remember how long that had been going on. The muggle technique of relieving pain had become a companion to me through the months since the war. Father would be disgusted, I scolded myself as I made my way out of my room to the dining room.

One of the few objects we had left to our name was our manor. The only reason we were allowed to keep it was because Father had passed away and therefore it belonged rightfully to me. Seeing as how I was only forced to house arrest for six months and not life in Azkaban, the Wizengamot determined me worthy of keeping my home. I was lucky to get off with just those six months of house arrest. I cringed at the thought of what would've happened to me if Potter and Granger had not come forth at my hearing. I would be wasting away in a grimy, dank cellar next to "fellow Death Eaters" as Weasley had so kindly put it.

"Thank you," I told Potter the second my trial was finished and my punishment admitted. "I can't thank you enough, Potter." I extended my arm out to shake his hand and was pleasantly surprised when he reached out to second the notion.

"You don't deserve to die, Malfoy. That much I am sure." I recall him saying. "The war has changed everyone, and you for the better, I must say."

That was the nicest conversation Potter and I had ever had, and honestly it felt nice not arguing for a change. I think Granger felt the same way because as I was returning to the court room to meet up with the Auror who was in charge of me, she stopped to talk to me.

"Malfoy, wait." Granger's hand grasped my arm gently. "You're welcome."

I had a small smirk on my pale, sunken face as I addressed her, "Once a know-it-all, always a know-it-all I suppose, huh Granger?" I attempted to use a little humor to lessen the awkwardness of the entire situation. Potter had been a different, easier story, seeing as how it was a mutual hatred that had manifested between us. My relationship with Granger however was simply a twisted childhood uprising that was branded into me day in and day out. It was completely one sided when it came to the taunting and childish motives. I was the culprit in this situation.

"So I've been told countless times," She smiled faintly and I took that moment to asses her. Her skin was pale, not as extreme as mine, but close to it. Her once bushy hair was now contained and reduced to falling in soft spirals down her back. From afar one would think she was perfectly fine, but here, up close, I could tell she wasn't. The war had taken the spirits out of a lot of us, Granger included. Her eyes were a tad sunken in and looked to have lost some twinkle of determination so commonly found there.

"Thank you, Granger, for everything you did today." I acknowledged her properly. "I'd be in Azkaban if it wasn't for you and Potter."

"Where you belong," A rough, husky voice said from behind me.

I turned slowly, already knowing who it was. That was the voice I had gotten into countless disputes with in our years at Hogwarts. Ronald Weasley stood a few feet from me with a familiar glare upon his freckled features. He had a glint of malice in his eyes that, quite frankly, scared me a little.

"You belong in Azkaban right alongside your fellow Death Eaters." He snarled unattractively to me. I remember thinking one thing, well that's definitely someone who was changed for the worse during the war.

Potter had come over to make sure nothing was happening just in time. I'm fairly sure Weasley would've pounced on me and then proceed to maim my defenseless body. Granger looked extremely peeved at him as they left the court room.

I entered the dining room to see Mother and Mavvy, our house elf, setting the table. Mother had began to partake in helping around the house with Mavvy just so she had something to keep her busy. At least that's what she had told me. I, on the other hand, believed that she was doing it to take her mind off of Father. He had died over half a year ago, but it felt like he was still here, watching my every move and judging me just the same as before. If only he knew how much I had tried to please him.

Mavvy saw we stroll into the room and scrambled over to me quickly, "Master Draco, we're eating a nice feast tonight before you leave for Hogwarts in the morning."

I gave her a polite smile and let her pull out my chair at the direct left of where my Father used to sit. Mother sat on the right of it so we were facing each other. We acted like he still belonged in that chair. We sat in our normal seats just as we had since I was a little boy.

Dinner was a quite affair, as usual. We made necessary chit chat, like my plans for the morning and what we did today. Other than that, all that was heard was Mavvy cleaning the dishes in kitchen.

I excused myself almost instantly after finishing the food on my plate. I pecked Mother lightly on the forehead before retreating to my bedroom. Tomorrow I would be returning to Hogwarts. I hadn't seen it since the Final Battle that had taken place there months and months ago. It had been rebuilt and a hallway with portraits of veterans was added. Among those veterans was Severus Snape. He went down as a hero after Potter explained the special circumstances regarding him. He had shown the Wizengamot the memories in Albus Dumbledore's pensieve and Severus Snape would now and forever be known as a War Hero.

Upon entering my room, a sudden realization came to me. I would be returning to Hogwarts for my seventh and final year. I would be returning as Head Boy as well which, believe me, was a surprise to me too. Headmistress McGonagal had written to me in my letter, "Professor Dumbledore wrote in his farewell letter to me that you, Mr. Malfoy, be Head Boy upon your return to Hogwarts. I do not know why, but I believe you to prove him right in his decision."

There seemed to be a two sides to the "Draco Malfoy Research Project". One side being the ones who thought I was complete scum and deserved life in Azkaban or dead. The other being the ones who felt I had been misguided and pressured into being a Death Eater and doing as I did. Quite honestly I had no idea which one I was.

I had done things willingly, yes. But, there were times when I was forced to do something. For instance, raiding and killing muggles in their homes hadn't been done on my free will. If I hadn't done it, I'd be dead. Nagini would have feasted on my remains hungrily. There was a lot of ifs and should haves that could be added on to the speech I made at my trial. A long list of excuses and bullshit, as a journalist so kindly put it.

Shaking my head, I attempted to get some rest for tomorrow. Almost instantly my thoughts were plagued by the memories of what happened a few nights ago with Mavvy. She had caught me cutting, something that no one was supposed to be aware of.

One more. Just one more. I cried helplessly inside. I needed this relief. Any relief really. I brought my wand closer to my already bloodied wrists before whispering the spell. I yelped quietly, but it echoed in the enclosed space of my bathroom. The crimson red droplets of blood dripped repeatedly to the clean floors, tainting them effortlessly. I alternated wrists once again, continuously telling myself this would be the last.

I let out an unwarranted sob before slowly sliding to the reddened floor. I swiped a shaky hand over my face and felt myself curl into the all too familiar fetal position. The one I took whenever I wanted to ignore the taunting whispers of the outside world.

"Sirs," Mavvy's innocent voice made its way into the room. "Sirs, is you alright in there?"

"Leave me be!" I tried to sound assertive, but my hoarse voice simply croaked in response. Mavvy, although unwelcome, entered the room and gasped instantly.

"Sir, what is you doing?!" She wept and rushed toward me to survey the damage I'd done. "Sirs, you shouldn't be hurting yourself!"

I stared blankly at her before turning away, hoping in vain that she'd leave me alone. I needed to feel this pain and wallow in my grief and sufferings.

She snapped her fingers and the floor cleared itself. She swept back my hair that had fallen into my face before ushering me to sit up. When I didn't cooperated, she huffed angrily and tugged my arms out from their position around my legs. I cried out in agony as she repaired the deep gashes in my forearms.

Afterwards, she urged me into my bedroom where she set out new pajamas. She left me to change as she discarded all evidence of anything happening inside my bathroom. When she returned, she tucked me into bed before saying, "Master Draco mustn't do this again or else Mistress Narissa is going find out. Mistress doesn't need anymore stress then she's already got, sirs."

With that, I turned over-with my back to Mavvy- and proceeded to cry soundlessly until I fell asleep.

This memory plagues my thoughts as I toss and turn in the middle of the night. When morning came, I don't think I slept a wink. Groaning, I rolled out of bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. It couldn't have been even close to leave yet, because the sun had just barely risen, but I couldn't have cared less. I didn't have anything better to do than pack and stare aimlessly into the depths of my room.

I huffed and flicked my wand, causing all my clothes to fold themselves effortlessly. I manually filled my trunk with said clothes before looking at the stack of school supplies that I needed this year which were mostly books, as usual. After piling that into my trunk, I decided to get dressed. I pulled on a pair of black trousers, a dark green collared shirt, a black overcoat, and my favorite dress shoes, before slipping my wand into my jacket pocket.

I slowly evaluated my room to see if I'd forgotten anything. There, standing upright against my window frame, was my Nimbus that I loved dearly. I quickly shrunk it and stuck it inside a pocket in my trunk. I couldn't forget that. I levitated my belongings down the staircase and to the kitchen where my mother was.

"Good morning, love." She spoke in a fragile tone. "You're up rather early."

I gave her a swift kiss on the cheek before replying, "I decided to get a move on with my day."

"Smart," She replied softly before ushering me to have a seat at the counter. "I've made breakfast."