Author's Note: I do not own any of the Harry Potter franchise, but I do own my somewhat mediocre writing ability!
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Malfoy Manor. There had been so many pictures of it in the Daily Prophet since the fall of Lord Voldemort, mainly because of its newly acquired condemned status. This was largely because of its status as the headquarters of the Lord Voldemort and the horrific atrocities committed within his name and it was for this reason - among others - that the Malfoys were condemning their home. Narcissa Malfoy had originally protested fiercely against the idea, consumed with disbelief that her husband and son could sell the home that they had spent the last twenty-five years living in. But subconsciously, she understood why. It just wasn't home anymore, not after everything that had happened there in the last year. That whenever any of them walked into any of the house, they could not escape the haunting images of death that were burned into his eyes and mind, nor the faces of those who had been tortured there.
These images were never far from Draco Malfoy's mind as he walked the halls of the place that he used to love best - images of Hermione Granger suffering in his living room, the same living room that he walked in as a baby for the first time. Now he never rested easy as he slept in his bedroom, still adapted as he was to the fitful sleep that came with knowing that his house was no longer a place to be safe in and that it never would be.
Every single horror that had been committed in Malfoy Manor in the name of the Dark Lord had been etched into Draco's mind for the rest of his life, which made it impossible to relax in his old, worn green suede chair, or eat amicably with his parents in the dining room. The desensitization that his mother had said would come with time never did; every time another person screamed in agony or their eyes widened in cold fear at the words of promised torture, a little more of Draco's belief in the rightness of the Death Eater's actions died as he choked down bile, forcing his expression to be completely void of feeling. His father had once said, "Give nothing away about yourself; if they know nothing of your feelings, they cannot control you." Then he taught Draco how to control his impulses and only show people what he wanted them to see. This, partnered with the young Malfoy's considerable Occulmency skills meant there were times when he could even hide his true feelings from his own parents. He learnt to let only the safe emotions through and locked everything else away, slowing losing touch of who he was. These talents worked in conjunction with the purist attitudes that his father had always believed him and so he himself had taken onboard, and had been intensified when Voldemort had finally returned.
Back then, Draco had naively seen taking the Mark as a way to prove to himself to his parents, to make them proud of him. He had had no knowledge at the time to suggest it was otherwise, though looking back, Draco could see the signs clearly with the knowledge he had now, but then to his fourteen year old self, Voldemort and the Death Eaters that were powerful ideals to look to, not to be feared as they were by most of the wizarding world. He had only really started to understand why everyone else truly feared them when the living nightmare began in his fifth summer, that the Death Eater ideals were enforced through torture, fear, pain and unyielding resolve for the cause and if you failed, there was truly no redemption. From then on, the Malfoys were ridiculed and mocked for Lucius' failure at the Ministry of Magic and Draco finally started to understand this charade for what it truly was and it sickened him.
Even as Draco took on the task of infiltrating Hogwarts and killing Albus Dumbledore, he still did not fully understand the cruelty that Voldemort practiced, thinking that if he achieved this, he could redeem his father and family in Voldemort's eyes and therefore, in the eyes of the Death Eaters as a whole. However, as he went about achieving this impossible task, he realised that there would be no redemption for his family as he looked into the eyes of Albus Dumbledore at the point of completing his task, he just could not do it and the pity and understanding in his headmaster's eyes filled Draco with hopelessness. There was no going back either way, if he did it or not.
Voldemort's punishment was long-lived. He humiliated and ridiculed the Malfoy family even more so than he had done before, causing them to be treated as the lowest of the low by the rest of the Death Eaters and Draco started to learn to hate those who treated his parents cruelly. He himself was spared most of the ridiculing that his parents endured, being that he spent a large amount of the last year at Hogwarts, though he knew that the children he had befriended there no longer treated him with the respect and friendship that they once had.
But he had endured. He had sat through countless tortures and screams that rang through these and so many other places that Draco had frequented with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He hadn't fallen like some of them; hadn't broken down in front of Voldemort, only to be led away by a family member, returning perhaps hours later solemn-faced and as white as a ghost - and if you looked closely and Draco often did - the blankness in their eyes told him he could not slip, even for a moment if it meant his sanity.
He had endured because of his parents. Of course, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy could not offer words of comfort, nor shelter him from Voldemort's sight. However, he drew strength from his parents' own unwavering outer calm. His father's emotionless eyes as he looked on over everything; his quiet, controlled anger whenever Voldemort reminded him of his utter failure at the Ministry of Magic and also in the way he controlled his outrage and anger at Voldemort for forcing himself upon the Malfoys and using their home as a headquarters as an additional punishment for all the failures that his family had committed. The way his mother kept her anxiousness deep down inside, fearing for her husband and son's lives; though Draco never knew the full extent of her silent rage, simply feigning servitude for the sake of her family. She offered Draco comfort with her eyes, sadness mingling with bold defiance.
He had never understood that regret or just how deeply their betrayal went until the day of the Battle of Hogwarts, when his mother and father found him amongst the madness and simply clung together, all loyalty to Voldemort gone, with only the need to protect each other remaining, the last few months of loyalty to him exposed to Draco as obedience out of fear for each other. Weakness and fear were not qualities that a Malfoy should not possess, but through time, they had learnt to be even stronger together and after the Battle was finally over, they were just grateful to be alive and together.
But everything that had happened in those years had not been forgotten. The painful memories and fear had made Draco lose much of himself, becoming a hollow form, knowing what he could and could not do, losing his opinions if they were dangerous to even think; numbing his own mind to avoid the Dark Lord's wrath.
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Now that he had moved out of his childhood home, now so tainted by the permanent stain on the soul that Voldemort left on whatever he touched, there was a sense of peaceful unrest among the Malfoy family as they settled into their new home. It was considerably smaller than their old home as they had relatively few belongings that they could not bear to part with, discarding the rest and had settled in the same area of England, but in a four bed-roomed cottage, if a rather expensive and lavishly decorated property. After all, even though the Malfoys had lost their standing within the Death Eaters, they still had their pride as a Pureblood family and therefore would not settle for anything less than the best from their home and this pride forced them to push on, putting the past behind them and staying away from most of wizarding society for the summer following the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort. They had been spared from separation by Harry Potter, who saw Narcissa's lie to Lord Voldemort for his life and their inactivity during the Battle of Hogwarts as a complete betrayal of their loyalties to the Death Eaters. They had never publicly thanked Harry for his help, as it allowed them to remain together when the end of the war threatened to rip their family apart, but if you ask the right people, you'd there was a rather substantial sum of money donated to the War Victims Fund anonymously right after the pardons were awarded.
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As Draco walked through the twenty acres of woodland that the Malfoys had purchased along with their home, he felt - not for the first time - that this was a reality that he had never dreamed of, especially not in the last year. It was a surreal experience, just walking for the sake of walking and he found himself strangely finally warming to the idea of doing things just because he felt like it, rather than needing a reason to. It had taken him four months but he had finally managed to relax. He was finding he could get used to this, staying away from other people, after all that he had done and seen, though his stubborn Malfoy pride often urged him to return to Diagon Alley to simply browse around. He was noticed to be sure, but never approached. It was as if people did not know how to treat him, an ex-Death Eater, yet pardoned with support from Harry Potter himself and he found he preferred it that way, for he did not know how to treat other people anymore.
"Potter," Draco spoke aloud, still largely fascinated with the fact that he could say his old archrival's name without distaste. Although it had been a rivalry based off Draco being spurned as a friend and had continued strongly for seven years of school, Harry had saved Draco's life at Hogwarts and now he had saved his family. So, there just didn't seem much point in wasting the energy in hating him, energy which could be better spent elsewhere. Besides, he hadn't seen him since the court cases, just like he hadn't really spoken to anyone he knew from school, though he thought he had glimpsed their faces in Diagon Alley as he wandered through. He looked up to the sky and sighed; it was late evening and Mother would be expecting him home soon for dinner, which filled him with a slight feeling of dread. It's not that Narcissa was a bad cook; she was a brilliant cook in fact, but since everything, she had been on edge and unable to concentrate, though Lucius had been doing his best to settle them both back into the relationship that they had had prior to Voldemort's second rising, which meant they spent most of their time together, leaving Draco to his own devices. Though occasionally Draco found that he was feeling a little lonely, it gave him time with his thoughts, so he could begin to sort out his distorted mentality.
The orange, red and pink hued sky told Draco that it was time to start heading back towards the cottage, especially considering it was going to take him the best part of an hour to walk home and he was already late, he was moving at quite a fast pace. He knew it wouldn't do to be late, particularly with his mother finally starting to recover some of her old self. With this in mind, he quickened his pace, hastening home and to an uncertain future, sparing a thought for the home that he had left behind but would never forget.