DRACO:
The common room was mostly empty as Draco made his way through it. There were a few younger students playing chess in the corner of the room who, when they saw him, quickly averted their eyes. This was a common occurrence now. Everyone knew that he had been a death eater and not everyone thought he should be back at Hogwarts this year. In fact, there had been a lot of students protesting to McGonagall when they found out he was coming back. McGonagall, however, was having none of it.
"You haven't lost your right to an education just because of one small mistake," she had said to him. "And, Draco," she'd said as he was leaving her office, "if you ever need someone to talk to you know where to find me."
Small was an understatement. The mistake he had made was immense and had cost a lot of people their lives, but for some reason, he wasn't being punished for it. Honestly, he thought it was annoying how forgiving she was being. It reminded him of Dumbledore – and he did not want to be reminded of Dumbledore. He knew he didn't deserve forgiveness after everything he had done so why was she giving it to him? Urgh, it's sickening, he thought as he exited the common room.
He walked stiffly through the deserted corridors, constantly on edge in case he crossed paths with anyone. The corridors were riddled with reminders of the war - reminders of what he did. He couldn't help but feel responsible for everything. If he hadn't brought the death eaters into the school that night, Dumbledore wouldn't be dead, and so many people – reporters, ministry officials, and theorists alike - were saying how that was the catalyst for the Battle of Hogwarts.
He was relieved when he made it outside without seeing anyone, and although most of the school seemed to be sat outside in the sun, there were fewer reminders of all the pain he had caused out here. He made his way over to the lake and sat down next to it, hoping nobody would notice him. The surface of the lake was shimmering in the sunlight but underneath the water was dark and gloomy. He stared down into the lake and soon got lost in his thoughts.
Not long after he had sat down, movement nearby caught his eye. He looked up to see Harry Potter sit down on the edge of the lake not so far away from him. He looked preoccupied and didn't seem to notice Draco. Draco unconsciously stared at Potter, watching him glare down into the water, and thought about how he had saved his life. Thinking about his life debt to Potter (of all people) made him feel humiliated. It was something he tried never to think about. He had spent a lot of time over the summer wondering why Potter had saved him from the burning Room of Requirement. He supposed it was a Gryffindor thing, or maybe a Chosen One thing, or maybe it was just something good people did. He had no doubt that if the roles were reversed he wouldn't have thought twice about saving his own arse and leaving Potter to die, though he might have regretted it afterwards.
When Draco realised he was staring, he quickly looked back down at the water, his face heating up slightly. The last thing he wanted was Potter to notice him and he definitely didn't want him to try to talk to him, although he had a feeling the Gryffindor would try to eventually (probably about the life debt that Draco was trying so desperately not to think about). He wasn't sure how Potter felt about him coming back to Hogwarts and he wasn't desperate to find out.
Draco wasn't sure how much time he had spent staring into the water, lost in his thoughts, when he felt a pair of eyes on him. Looking up, he locked gaze with Potter, who was stood facing him. Why is he looking at me? Now that he was looking directly at him, Draco noticed something he hadn't before: Potter looked tired. His green eyes had large bags underneath and his shoulders were slightly slumped. Draco looked away quickly, a blush rising to his cheeks again, and stood up. He couldn't stay there now that Potter had noticed him. I'll go to the library, he thought as he hurried towards the castle, he won't follow me there.
The library was empty except for Madam Pince, who, upon his arrival, scowled at him and stalked away with her feather duster in hand. Draco ignored her and went to pick an advanced Potions book off a shelf before sitting at the table nearest the door. Resting his head in his hand, he forced his brain to focus on potions.
Not long after that, Draco heard someone else come into the library. He looked up and to his surprise saw Potter walking in. He immediately looked back down at his book, determined not to stare as he had done before. Why is he here? Maybe he is following me? Keeping an eye on me or something? Potter didn't say anything and just walked past him to a table. Draco again tried to focus his thoughts on his potions book but was unsuccessful. He couldn't help but wonder where Potter's friends were. It was strange seeing him not surrounded by Gryffindors or hordes of fangirls. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had always envied Potter's friends. They all seemed so close and he had never had friends like Weasley and Granger. Slytherin friendships tended to be more about alliances between families and while he did enjoy the company of his friends, he had no doubt that if it came down to him or them, they would all choose themselves in a heartbeat.
When Draco was sure that he couldn't feel the prickling sensation of being watched, he turned around and looked through the shelf that was separating his and Potter's tables. Potter had his head down on the surface, his messy black hair was fanned out around his head and his glasses were pushed into an awkward position on his face. Draco was surprised: he had never seen Potter like this and wondered what on earth was wrong with him. Deciding it was not something he should concern himself with, Draco turned back around and fixed his eyes on his book again, telling his brain to focus on potions.
He sat there for a while, eventually getting lost in the book and forgetting about Potter until he heard a page turn behind him. Sneaking a glance at Potter again, he saw that he too had a book open in front of him. Although Draco couldn't see what the book was, he could tell by the state of it that it wasn't a library book. Madam Pince was too protective of her precious books to let one get so worn. Potter was paging through the book, with a look on his face that suggested he wasn't really concentrating on reading it.
Draco looked away again and looked down at his watch. It was almost 6 o'clock; almost dinner time, he noticed, although he wasn't planning on going to dinner. He began to read again, losing himself in potions once more.
"Shouldn't you be getting to dinner, Potter?" He heard Madam Pince say from the other side of the nearby shelf where Potter was sat. He glanced back and saw Potter looking slightly surprised. Draco didn't blame him; he'd never heard Madam Pince talk to anyone in the library without her signature Get-Your-Filthy-Hands-Off-My-Beautiful-Books-You-Miscreant voice.
"I- Oh- I didn't realise the time," Potter said.
"Yes. Well. Off you go." She shook her feather duster at him and Draco turned back around. He had always wondered why she didn't just use magic to dust the books. Or get the house elves to do it. Personally, he'd never so much as touched a feather duster in his life. He supposed she didn't even trust her own magic let alone the house elves to go near her beloved books. He heard the sound of a book snapping shut and a few moments later Potter walked past him, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. He didn't look at Draco who breathed a faint sigh of relief before turning his attention back to his book. He didn't need to wonder why Madam Pince didn't care if he was eating or not to know the answer.
Draco didn't go to dinner. He wasn't hungry and even if he was, the glares he was subjected to while trying to eat were enough to put anyone off their food. When he arrived back in the common room dinner was almost over, so the common room was buzzing with that post-food contentment that - as surprising as it would be to the other houses - even Slytherins felt. He tried to slip through the common room unnoticed but was unsuccessful.
"Draco!" A delighted shout came from across the room. It was Pansy. He turned in the direction of her voice and soon her face emerged from behind the particularly tall seventh year she had been obscured by.
"Hey Pans," he said reluctantly. She stopped in front of him and raised an eyebrow.
"Have you been off brooding again? No wonder everyone thinks you're boring now." She always had a way with words.
"They don't think I'm boring, Pans, they think I'm evil. There's a difference." He began to head to the door that leads to the dormitories, but she stepped in front of him and instead steered him towards a sofa.
"Well, I don't think you're either," she said a little flirtatiously. Draco groaned inwardly. She had been coming on to him since First Year. He had always tolerated it because it was good for his image. He couldn't have anybody figure out his secret. The secret that made him work so hard to perfect his occlumency. The secret that, if it got out, the best he could hope for from his family would be disownment, the worst would be something Draco couldn't even bring himself to think about. He was gay.
Homosexuality was the mortal enemy of pureblood families, especially ones with only one heir like his. He had come to terms with the fact that he would probably have an arranged marriage if the Malfoy line was to continue - he'd possibly even have to marry some distant cousin, although that wasn't something the Malfoy's generally did. Apparently, incest is better than being gay: that's the conclusion he had come to. He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind and focus on Pansy.
She didn't seem to have noticed that he wasn't paying attention to her and was now saying something about "stupid Gryffindors and their nobility".
"Do you ever talk about anything else?" Draco looked up to see Blaise standing in front of the sofa, looking at Pansy with a slightly annoyed air about him. "Seriously, Draco, you look bored out of your mind." He sat on the sofa next to Draco and turned to face them. "Have either of you heard anything from your parents recently?"
"I had a letter from them this morning," Pansy replied.
"So did I," Draco said, although he suspected that even though his father's name was signed, he had had nothing to do with it. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, apparently there's been some attacks on pureblood families. The Bulstrodes were the most recent victims."
"Millie's family?" Pansy asked, looking concerned.
"Yes, some distant relatives of hers."
"Do you know what brought it on? And how come we haven't heard about his before now?" Draco queried.
"You know exactly why, Draco," Blaise said with a sigh. It was true: he did know exactly why. In the aftermath of the war, the ministry had been eager to not report things about pureblood families who were possibly involved with the Death Eaters. They called it "keeping the peace" but everyone with more than a single brain cell knew that they were just desperate not to antagonise anyone else after all the corruption, and the best way to do that was to give no attention to any rich pureblood families. Little did they realise they were only antagonising those rich pureblood families.
Draco inclined his head in a nod and pushed himself up off the sofa. "I think I'll go to bed now." They exchanged goodnights before he again began to head towards the dormitories.
