Harry Potter and the Damage Control

With the Second Wizarding War at an end many mourn their losses and turn to friends for help.

It has only been two months since the famed 'Battle of Hogwarts', and the school has announced that the last year had been unsatisfactory in our children's education. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall suggests that all the students repeat the year, so that they might receive the teachings required. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, agrees, and while he didn't pass an official statement making McGonagall's plan mandatory, Shacklebolt admitted that, "As our youth are our greatest asset, we need them prepared."

- Michelle Gothsby, The Daily Prophet

Harry James Potter sat alone in a room at number 12, Grimmauld Place. He'd been there for nearly three weeks, staring wistfully at a picture he appeared to see straight through.

The picture in question holds a young man, wearing spectacles with messy black hair, laughing with a scruffy-looking man. They both look carefree and gleeful, but Harry Potter knew better. He knew that both of those men are dead.

The door handle rattles, dragging him from his musings. The murmuring of spells and the click of a lock sends tension down his spine.

"Harry? Are you in here?" The voice belongs to Harry's friend Neville Longbottom. Harry puts on his best attempt at a grin and says in a voice, scratchy from disuse, "Nope. You might check down the hall, though."

Neville pokes his head into the door and winces at the sight that meets him. "How long have you just been sitting there?" The pity in his voice is unbearable.

"Not long enough." Harry replies tersely; he didn't need people's pity.

There was the sound of a muffled voice from the landing below Harry. Neville stuck his head out the door to respond, but was cut off mid sentence. The sound of stomping approached, and Harry subconsciously curled up smaller.

"HARRY POTTER YOU BASTARD!" Came the voice of Hermione Granger, one of Harry's best friends.

"Nice to see you too, 'Mione." said Harry.

"Oh, don't start. You've been up here sulking for a month!" Hermione snarled. Neville shrunk away, and Harry wished he could follow. Hermione poked her head out the door and called "RON, I'VE FOUND HIM."

"It hasn't been a month, it's barely been a week," Harry coughed out in a vain attempt to calm Hermione down. He didn't exactly remember, but it couldn't have been that long. Could it?

"Yes it has." Hermione spit out, "Have you have just been sitting here not concerned that we didn't know where you'd gone? You just swanned off after testifying at some trials and didn't bother to tell any of us where you were going!" she steamed. "Just look at yourself, you're filthy! Have you eaten anything since you got here?"

Harry winced again, knowing that Hermione was not going to be happy. "Yeah," he mumbled "once in awhile." Though the only food he'd managed to choke down usually came back up during particularly violent panic attacks. He carefully left out that bit.

Hermione's expression twisted into concern, but just then, Ron burst in looking livid. Harry grimaced.

"HARRY WHAT THE BLOODY HELL? YOU HAD US SCARED TO DEATH! We thought you were dead! Oh, Kingsley is gonna love this, he had aurors looking for you all over the country!" Ron shouted and Harry winced.

Had he really been missing that long? Had he caused an uproar in his absence? He sighed and looked down at the bedspread that had grown rumpled after long hours spent curled up on it. He hadn't meant to cause such a fuss.

"Sorry, didn't think it would be such a big deal. I was just looking to clear my head and I guess I got caught up thinking." Harry muttered loud enough for them to hear. His head felt wrapped in cotton, he couldn't get the right words out.

Neville opened his mouth as if to accept the apology, but Hermione shot him a glare before rounding on Harry again. "Harry, have you really just been sitting here for all that time? You prat, you're going to starve yourself!" She said, but this time it was more exasperated. Harry shrugged, trying to come up with a good excuse, but he couldn't get his brain to work.

Ron threw up his hands in annoyance. "I'll go send an owl to Kingsley. It's a good thing nobody else will hear about this or we'd be a laughing stalk– finding a missing person in their own house."

Harry looked up, his eyes unfocused, but Ron seemed not to notice and continued, "You ever pull a stunt like that again and I'll skin you. Well, assuming Mum doesn't first." Harry paled.

"Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Neville piped up from beside Hermione. Harry tried to look at him, and blurrily nodded.

He moved to stand up, but the floor disappeared and everything went black. (A/N Who doesn't love a cliché?)

Draco Malfoy was in mourning. Well, he was supposed to be in mourning. And he was, in the way a victim of stockholm syndrome mourns their captor.

Lucius Malfoy's death had been a long time coming. It was an uncommon occurrence when a Death Eater ever walked away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's service, and Lucious hadn't exactly been well liked. He had dragged his entire family into this mess, not to mention countless others that he'd recruited. He had used anyone as a shield.

Draco tried to drag his thoughts away from that ledge, before he plummeted into horrid memories of his father, and what he'd done to his mother and himself.

"Draco, have you seen the prophet this morning?" Narcissa Malfoy asked from the front of the table. She was looking at him like she knew what was running through his head. "They have decided to bring back all of the seventh year students so you can get a proper last year's education."

Draco knew that the school had been planning that since they cleared the corpses. He was surprised they hadn't announced it sooner... But that left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. How could he face all of those he had hurt?

Narcissa saw her son's internal struggle. She knew the hardships he faced, but she wanted him to get past it.

"Draco," she started quietly, "you don't have to go back if you really don't want to, but I would like you to give it a try." Narcissa carefully watched Draco's reaction.

Draco himself was rather taken aback. He wasn't used to having a choice in his fate. The thought hadn't occurred to him to say no. He flinched at the thought of what his father would have- ...but his father wasn't here.

He breathed deeply and smiled back at Narcissa "Of course, mother."

Narcissa noticed the flinch. "Draco, he is gone. You have a choice."

Draco wondered whether his mother was was a legilimens. She seemed to know exactly what to say.

He smiled, sheepishly. "Thanks, mother. I think I'll give it a go, and send you an owl if things get unbearable."

"Excellent," Narcissa beamed, "then I'll send a house elf to get your trunk out. We can go shopping as soon as your letter arrives."

Author's Note

This is a heavily edited version of a story I posted awhile ago and thought might be salvageable. Thanks for reading and please tell me what you think in the comments section below.