Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Round : Round 2 – Gimme A Sign

Team : Puddlemere United

Position : Chaser #3

Task : Write about a character(s) who's always been fawned on finding themselves having to work for recognition and acceptance.

Bonus Prompts : 9. (Dialogue) "If the grass is greener on the other side you can bet the water bill is high."

3. (Word) Blazing

13. (Phrase) Holding your head high

Word Count : 1451

Draco read the letter in his hand once, then twice, and then again a third time before he put it down on the dining table and looked at his mother, who was looking at him expectantly from her place at the head of the table.

"Well?" she asked, leaning forward and picking up the letter written in Green ink.

Draco sighed and looked back down into his breakfast plate from which he had been eating before he received the letter. He ran a hand through his hair—something he did a lot when he was tensed these days—and looked back at his mother.

"I—I don't know, mother. It hasn't been that long since the war, or even since we've been released. Wouldn't it be better to stay out of the public eye for a while?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes slightly, then sat up straight and scrutinized her son silently. He had changed, of course, and so had she, but she hadn't realized the extent of this change in her son. Before the war he used to relish the media and public scrutiny—he was, after all, a Malfoy. Now, however … Narcissa sighed and leaned back into her chair. To stay away from the press would not be without merit. The wizarding world wasn't exactly very fond of the Malfoys anymore. But how long would they go without venturing outside? How long would they remain incognito, hoping that perhaps things would calm down?

"Draco …" she began, taking a deep breath, "I know it seems like a much better option—It'd certainly save us both a lot of grief to stay out of The Prophet's line of sight—but would it really be right to do so in the long run? The war is over now, and the wizarding world is filled with speculation about the Malfoy family's allegiance. If we want to live holding our heads high again, if we want to belong, we need to finally show the world where our loyalties lie." She looked directly into his eyes. "Now that the Dark Lord and Lucius are both … gone … perhaps it's time to make amends. Hogwarts is a good place to start, I think. You will have to take your NEWTs, anyhow." She got up from the table and put a hand upon her son's shoulder. "The decision is yours to make, Draco, but I do hope you will take my words into consideration."

Sitting in the Hogwarts Express felt strange now. Draco's younger self, when he had last travelled in it in his sixth year, had felt so sure about things—so sure what he was doing was right, something to be proud of, so sure his father and his ideals were right, that this was the man he wanted to become, but now… He sighed and looked out of the window and onto the platform filled with students and parents exchanging goodbyes, trying to find a familiar face. He hadn't seen that many of Slytherins from his year, only Pansy and Daphne—but then Daphne would come to Hogwarts, for Asta's sake. He knew Gregory had chosen not to return—Vincent's death had shaken him to the core. They were like brothers, after all. He hadn't heard from Theo—they had not been on good terms with the Nott family since the war had ended. In fact, most of the old pureblood families had maintained their distance since the end of the war, not knowing if it would be prudent to socialize with the betrayers of the Dark Lord.

Draco heard the whistle blow and watched as the students began to say final goodbyes to their families and boarded the train. His mother herself had left to go home a while ago after saying goodbye. He had felt reluctant to leave for Hogwarts. More accurately he had felt reluctant leaving mother alone in the Manor and going to Hogwarts where he'd certainly be alone himself. He had always found comfort in Mother, and he liked to think that these past few days Mother had found comfort in him, too. He shifted in his seat and had just rested his head against the back of his seat when the door slid open. He didn't lift his head up, only watched as the brunette witch walked in and sat down beside him.

"Hello, Pansy," he said to her, not really looking at her. Pansy was one of the few people who had supported him after the war, one of the few who had stuck by him, social standing be damned. Honestly, he couldn't be more grateful for every time that she had been there to keep him afloat when all he could see was a dark and depressing vortex, but sometimes he still wondered what would happen when she finally realized how worthless an idiot he really was.

"I was looking for you outside on the platform. I almost thought you'd chickened out," Pansy said to him, poking him in his side.

Draco finally lifted his head up and gave her a faint smile. "I almost wish I had," he said jokingly, looking away the moment he did, trying not to show just how much he truly meant it.

Pansy looked at Draco, lips thinning. She had grown up with this boy, she could tell how he reacted to things, she could tell how he felt about things, and she could certainly tell when he was trying to hide something—especially when he was trying to repress his emotions to appear strong. She knew it was partially Narcissa's doing that he was here—he had been more worried about going back to Hogwarts than he had let on—and he had every reason to be wary, but some things had to be done. She told him sas much, her eyes blazing.

"Some things you simply have to do, Draco, no matter how uncomfortable or vulnerable they make you, no matter how much they humiliate or scandalized you. This is one one them." She raised her chin and her blazing glare pierced a hole through his head. "You are a Slytherin! You should understand this better than anyone else." She studied his demeanor quietly, then said softly, "You're not the only one, you know, we're all struggling to get back up after the war, not just the old families, the entire Wizarding World. We all need to start someplace, Draco, that is why we're doing this—so that we can start again in some places, so that we can go back to the normal in others, and so that we can all be a part of this world again and walk holding our heads high."

Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair and then down his face. "It's not as easy as you think, Pansy, it's different for us. We don't know where we belong, are we allied with Potter now for betraying the Dark Lord? Those who supported him say yes, while Potter's supporters all take us to be Death Eaters, no matter if we helped Potter escape or if we helped each other during the war. We're stuck from both sides, Pans, it's not easy for us."

"If the grass is greener at the other side," she replied, "you can bet the water bill is high. It's not easy for anyone, Draco. I shouted in the great hall to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord the day of the battle. We weren't even involved in the war, but got dragged into it. We're regarded as Death Eater sympathisers, too. How many Slytherins did you see around from our year, or below, for that matter? They've all been affected, all been labeled Death Eaters simply because they were Slytherins. Not many bother to really learn the truth. How many of us stayed and fought? No one wants to know. Terence almost died. Does anyone ask about him? How many of us worked to get the younger kids out of Hogsmeade even as the battle broke out? Not many know of now—they're all still shocked, all still relieved, all still mourning. They'll find out eventually, Draco, not all of us deserve this, not all of us are to blame, but neither are they. They'll realize, love, they'll come around. And when they do, we'll have to be ready too, ready to make amends, ready to change, because we need to change too. This ridiculousness has gone on for too long"

She put a hand on his shoulder and he finally lifted his face back up. "We'll make through this, yeah?" she held out her hand as if making a pact, like they used to when they were little.

"Together, yeah," he said, sliding his fingers in between hers.