A/N: This one is short, but I think it feels complete. It's a brief glimpse into Draco's life post-DH.
2. Good Seeing You
He was no stranger to the angry glares, the bitter comments, the mother's hand pulling her child closer. His family had been notorious for entanglement with the Dark Lord for years, after all. Since the war, however, there had been an unsettling shift in the way Draco was treated. Where fear once lurked behind wide eyes was no replaced with bitter hatred. Draco felt his cheeks burn under their stares; his head ached from their acidic whispers, just loud enough to be audible.
"Your lot killed my son!" a gray-faced, haggard woman shriekd, upon passing him in the street. "Murderer!"
His hands were clean – couldn't they see? He had been so close, wand in hand, those two terrible words sweet and sharp on his tongue, but he had never killed. True, he had housed the Dark Lord in his own home. True, he was a Malfoy, inescapably tied to a line as old and pure as Salazar Slytherin himself. True, the Dark Mark was eternally burned into his flesh. But was he a murderer?
"No," he told the shrieking woman. "I didn't kill your son. I'm not a murderer."
"You're just as good as one," she spat back.
Draco kept walking, yet he knew she was right. If Snape had not been there... if the circumstances had been different... would he have killed?
He didn't want to think of that. Instead, he hurried along the street, turning into the book shop. Here, he could be alone. Nobody but the ancient shopkeeper at the till was here to judge him.
"Draco?" a familiar voice asked.
He turned to find the Granger girl standing at one end of the shelf, an enormous leather-bound tome in her hands.
"I didn't realize you were in London," she said, smiling at him. "How are you?"
He ran a hand through his hair. As he did so, his sleeve fell towards his elbow, exposing his Dark Mark. Hastily, he clutched his ruined skin to his chest, hiding it from the Mudblood's view.
"I'm staying here for Father's -" he stopped short, swallowing the word trial. "I'm visiting my father," he finished, forcing himself to appear smug and confident.
Hermione gestured to his arm. "We all have scars from the war, Draco. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
His eyes sought the faint white scar across the base of her throat, where Aunt Bella had pressed a knife against her skin in his own home. Somehow, he couldn't meet her eyes.
"Good seeing you, Draco," she said with a sad smile. She brushed past him and left the shop.
He watched her pull her coat snugly around her shoulders as she walked down Diagon Alley. No one gave her sharp looks or a wide berth as she passed.
"Good seeing you, Granger," he whispered, long after she had vanished from view. He meant it.
A/N: I'd love a review if you have time. :)