Tears dripped down the end of his aristocratically pointed nose. He could taste the wet saltiness as the tracks ran over his lips. The room grew steadily darker as nightfall crept upon the Manor , slowly bathing the imposing structure in inky blackness.
Draco decided that he must have, somehow, cried himself to sleep. The room was pitch-dark and one of the house-elves had covered him with a blanket. Reaching a thin arm out, he fumbled about blindly before snatching up his wand.
"Lumos." Draco blinked. He didn't sound anything like himself. His voice was hoarse, almost nasal, and sounded weak, absolutely unbefitting of any member of the Malfoy family. The thought of 'family' held the threat of tears again, tears that he brushed away angrily with the back of his crumpled sleeve.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been brutally murdered by death-eaters just over a week ago. They, apparently, blamed the Malfoys' betrayal during The Final Battle for the Dark Lord's downfall and had not shown an ounce of mercy towards their former allies. Draco had been on holiday in France then, and the shocking piece of news had left him grief-stricken and falling rapidly into the depths of depression.
He knew he had to pick himself up, though. His parents wouldn't have wanted him to pine away for the rest of his life. He was handsome. He was wealthy beyond belief. He was Draco Malfoy, for heaven's sakes! He had a future ahead of him. A future, that he owed himself and his parents, to ensure was bright as could be.
Draco stood up suddenly, almost knocking the heavy wooden chair back in his determination, and took long strides across the carpet, out the door, up the stairs and into his bedroom. His trunk was already packed and stood solidly at the foot of his bed. He jutted his pointed chin out and stared defiantly through the open window at the crescent moon which hung in the night sky, amongst all the merrily twinkling stars.
His mind was made up. Welcome or not, he was going back to Hogwarts to complete his magical education and figure out what he wanted to do when he finally graduated. This year would be his, no matter what. He would not have friends, but he would at least have lackeys and accomplices. He was going to study harder than he ever had before and beat that bloody bookworm Granger at her own game. Potter wouldn't find himself king of the Quidditch pitch so easily any longer either. Draco had made sure to acquire the newest, and fastest, broom on the market when he had gone down to Diagon Alley to purchase the books and supplies he would need for school. And that red-headed idiot... Draco didn't bother to suppress a snort. The Weasel wasn't worth mentioning. He was just plain mediocre.
His lips curled into an all-too-familiar smirk as he threw himself onto the duvet. Sleep came quickly for the first time in days.