Edited 2014/02/18

Original A/N: Yay! People liked the story, and such. Thank you to my lovely reviewers, you guys are amazing! I'll try and update at least once a week, but school just started and I have the semester from hell. Yay. Anyway, here's the next chapter..

Oh yeah, disclaimer, I don't own Harry Potter. Three cheers Queen Jo!

After several drinks at the Leaky Cauldron, Draco was perfectly blissed out. Alcohol was the only thing that could that for him.

He bid Blaise goodbye, watching his friend stumble over himself. A happy teddy bear indeed. Chuckling slightly, he apparated home.

The darkness of night was closing in quickly around Malfoy Manor. The crisp September air was chilling on his skin. The wind whistled through the trees surrounding his childhood home. He felt his chest contract, and his ability to breathe diminish as he stared up at the looming building. Its windows were black; its shadow was large and menacing. He closed his eyes, treasuring his last few moments of peace. Taking a deep breath, he forced his feet to carry him to the door. He pulled at the handle, taking one last glance at the world. Then he entered the manor.

The halls were long and haunting, but that wasn't what Draco was frightened of. As Draco walked through the corridors towards the library, what truly frightened him about the manor appeared.

Whispers filled the halls, suffocating him. They were the whispers of all who had been killed in the drawing room. Draco shuddered. There were no ghosts at the manor, that he was sure of, more like slight imprints that would fill the air with tortured voices. The whispers never stopped. All day and all night, he heard them. Some voices he recognized, and some he didn't. There were too many to remember, too many killed, too many tortured….

Draco started to sprint through the halls, running away from the voices that haunted him. They haunted him always. His mother, who still lived in the manor, never seemed to hear them, only Draco. He knew why this was, of course. His mother had never hurt anyone, never tortured anyone, and never killed anyone with her own wand. Draco had killed and tortured, and therefore, the spirits tortured him in return.

Draco hated the manor. If it was up to him, he would have moved away the second Voldemort lost. However, he was put there on magical house arrest when he was awaiting his trial for his death eater deeds. After he was cleared he was planning on leaving the country, running away from all his past. He wasn't a Gryffindor; he didn't have the courage to stay and face it.

But then Lucius had been put in Azkaban.

Draco was neutral about it, however his mother was devastated. Narcissa Malfoy was good woman, who loved her son and husband more than she loved herself. Once Lucius was put away, Narcissa was alone. All of her friends had been locked in prison. Her family either had died or was still alive, but hated her. Draco was the only thing she had left. He couldn't leave her with nothing.

So, he stayed. He stayed and was plagued with nightmares beyond imagination. He stayed and was made a social pariah, until he was able to start his own business. He stayed, and was forced to deal with the things he was so ready to run away from. He stayed for his mother, who he loved more than anything. He never showed affection, except when he was with her. She was his one soft spot under his layers of cold stone.

But now, seven years had gone by since Draco had decided to stay at the Manor. Narcissa had managed to rebuild her life. She had patched up her relationship with her sister Andromeda. She had found herself a new group of friends, not involving death eaters. She had let go of the past.

So Draco had decided he needed to let go as well. He was finally leaving the manor. He had spoken to his mother about the subject, and she agreed it was time for him to leave the place that was haunting him so. In fact, tomorrow he was moving out.

Draco arrived at the library door, pushed it open and slid in. He quickly made his way to the back, and found his mother reading a book in her favourite armchair. She looked up and smiled at him. He returned it, his mother being one of the only things he smiled about.

"Hello, Draco dear," she said. "How's Blaise?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Same as usual, I suppose."

They made idle chitchat for a few more minutes. Draco tried not to grimace. He hated small talk. After several more minutes, Draco decided he was going to head to bed. As he was leaving, his mother grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Draco, darling," she said softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I know you're moving out tomorrow. I probably won't be up to see you go. So, I wanted to say," she hesitated slightly. Taking a deep breath, she rallied on. "I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for staying. After the war, I know this is the last place you wanted to be, with everything that happened. But you stayed anyway. Thank you for that, Draco."

His heart warmed, looking at his mother. He knew now, that all the suffering he had endured in this house was worth it, so that his mother was happy. He smiled down at her, and slowly turned away, heading back into the manor.

The whispers followed him up the stairs. His room had been stripped clean and packed into boxes. Now all that remained was the bed. He pulled on some pyjamas. Climbing into bed, his anxiety rose. He tried to calm down, but he couldn't; he knew what was coming. And, sure enough, the second he passed into the world of unconsciousness, the torture started.

The nightmares were indescribable pain. He was always forced to relive some significant moment from the war. Some days it was the final battle, as he watched person after person fall around him. Some days it was the room of requirement, as Crabbe burned in the flames. Some days it was on top of the astronomy tower, as Dumbledore died before his eyes. His fault, it was all his fault. But tonight, not one of those classics appeared.

Tonight, he was back in the drawing room of the manor. Tonight, he stood by and watched as Hermione Granger was tortured before his eyes by his crazy aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. Each of her screams sent a shot of agony through his core. He stood there frozen as Hermione cried out and thrashed on the floor while Bellatrix cackled.

It was endless.

He screamed out for Bellatrix to stop, but to no avail. It was as if he didn't even exist. Bellatrix laughed viciously, relishing in the agony she was forcing on the Gryffindor at her feet. Draco started crying as well, fighting to reach Hermione and save her from this fate. She didn't deserve this. She never deserved this. He couldn't move, he couldn't do anything. Useless. He was completely useless. He had no power. He couldn't save her. He couldn't do anything. Guilt washed over him. He drowned in it, until he woke up in the morning, doused in sweat with Hermione's screams still echoing in his head.

Draco spent the rest of the day moving boxes into his new flat. When he had left the dreaded manor, it felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from his chest. He could breathe easier. He smiled for no reason. He didn't even think about the horrific dream he had experienced. He was free.

Draco walked up the steps to his building, levitating a box behind him. He had searched all over London for a new flat, seeing countless different options, but never finding one that was quite to his liking. He had finally found one in an enchanted building near Big Ben. He had liked the building because of its view of the river, blue and sparkly, sometimes. He had also liked it because it was for wizards and witches only. Draco was doing very well at moving past his prejudices towards muggles and muggle-borns (mudblood had been outlawed), but he wasn't ready to move in with them yet.

He walked into his new flat, levitating the box behind him. He gazed at his new living space. This was his place, his sanctuary, away from his past and present. It was perfect, currently covered with boxes, but perfect none the less. He smiled. This was brilliant.

As he levitated his final box into his new flat, he tripped over another box he had left precariously lying on the hardwood floor. As he tripped, he lost his magical grip on the final box, which fell to the ground, its contents flying across the room.

Draco swore, cursing the fact that he'd have to pick everything back up. It was so carefully organized too. He had been meticulous about packing. He sighed, annoyed, and quickly got to work.

After picking up several miscellaneous objects, a letter opener here, a quill there, he came across his copy of Hogwarts a History. As he lifted the old brown book, the binding detached, an old newspaper fell out from between the pages.

Confused, Draco put the book down and picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet. HERMIONE GRANGER, WAR HEROINE, MISSING was splashed across the cover. Below was a smiling picture of Granger, her bushy hair tamed, her brown eyes sparkling.

Draco looked down at the page he held in his hands. He'd forgotten he kept it. The page was wrinkled and yellow from seven years of being saved. He grazed his fingers across Hermione's smiling face, her eyes twinkling at him, so different from the face he had seen in his dream the night before. Why Draco had saved it, he couldn't even remember. He did however remember the day this paper had first came into his possession. It was engraved permanently in his memory. He and his parents were on magical house arrest, awaiting their various trials for involvement with Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Draco was sitting at the table, eating the eggs one of the house elves had placed before him. That was when the morning post arrived, carried in by various owls. The three Malfoys looked up in anticipation. Every day more news regarding the capturing of death eaters reached them. Every day, they would wait for the fate of various other criminals, hoping to receive a vague idea of what was in store for them. However, that day it was something different.

The Daily Prophet was dropped in front of his mother by a tawny barn owl. Narcissa picked the paper up, and let her eyes gloss lazily over the first page. She suddenly chocked on the juice she had been drinking. Coughing and spluttering, she reread the page, her eyes widening in obvious shock.

"Narcissa?" Lucius Malfoy asked tentatively, his voice soft and raspy from lack of use. No one in the Malfoy house had been speaking much, everyone keeping to themselves, and out of the way. "What is it?"

Narcissa laid the paper across the table and stood up, shivering. Lucius and Draco stood up and walked over to her side, where they both read the title. HERMIONE GRANGER, WAR HEROINE, MISSING.

Lucius looked highly distressed, and pulled his wife into his arms. "No one's safe," he muttered, placing his chin on her head. "If they can get to her, no one is safe."

"How could they manage?" Narcissa trembled, and curled into Lucius, resting her head on his shoulder. "She must have been so protected, and she's exceptionally strong and talented…for a muggle-born," Narcissa added quickly.

"I don't know," Lucius muttered. "Who would be stupid enough to do this though? Potter's best friend? They have the death sentence written across their forehead. Potter will never give up on his friends…bloody fool," Lucius added, also quickly.

Draco scarcely heard them. He couldn't stop staring at the picture. Granger stared back, her eyes twinkling. He couldn't understand. He had never particularly liked the bookworm, but he knew she was powerful and strong. His broken nose from third year testified to that. How could someone capture her? She was the brightest witch of her age, after all. She had survived years of torment. She had survived attacks. She had survived the battle of Hogwarts for Merlin's sake! Draco kept his eyes glued to her face. His father was right; if Hermione Granger had been taken, no one was safe.

His parents were trembling, obviously frightened. They all thought that the light side had vanquished, that there was no more fear from the dark. But Granger's disappearance relighted old fears of the Dark Lord rage. Narcissa, after all, had saved Potter in the woods. If there were still active death eaters, they probably wouldn't be too pleased about that fact.

Draco didn't know what came over him. He grabbed the paper, his mind completely disconnecting from his body, and ran up to his room. His parents stared blankly after him, still clutching each other. He got to his room and bolted the door behind him.

He collapsed onto the floor, crying, not even understanding why. He stayed there for a while; until his parents had the house elves collect him for supper. He had kept the paper though, tucked up inside his copy of Hogwarts, a History. He had seen Granger reading it once when he had stumbled upon her in the library. It seemed fitting to keep Granger there. After that day, he thought of Granger's disappearance constantly for about a year afterwards, until Granger finally slipped from his mind.

However, he had never retrieved the paper from inside his book. So, there it had stayed, for many years.

Draco brought his head back to the present. He still couldn't understand why Granger's disappearance had upset him so much. He had constantly thought about it for that first year, each time the thought filling him with sadness, each time sobs escaping him. He didn't understand it at all. He and Granger had never been friends, never even acquaintances. They were simply enemies. He had teased her; she had punched him in the face. They had a system, but friendship was never a part of it. So why had he cared so much?

He raked his mind, searching for reason. It must have been because it meant there were still active Death Eaters. Yes, Draco thought, that must have been it. He shook his head, as if shaking any thought of the bookworm out of it. He folded up the paper, put it back in the book, and continued to clean up the box's contents.

The next day Draco woke bright and early in his new flat, still surrounded by boxes. He felt slightly relaxed. He had still had nightmares; but they weren't as intense or torturous. Leaving Malfoy Manor was definitely doing him some good. Draco rolled over, and looked at the clock. 8:21, it read. His eyes suddenly shot open. It wasn't that early after all. He had to be at work in nine minutes. It was his first day back at the office since Moscow, and he had people he needed to update. He pulled himself out of bed, scarfed down some toast, and dressed quickly. He managed to apparate to work by 8:29.

Malfoy was grumbling slightly when he walked through the front doors of Malfoy Industries, located in central London. It was an enchanted building, so muggles never came knocking.

"Welcome back Mr. Malfoy," said the new secretary, Julie, as he walked through the atrium to the elevators. He nodded in her direction, but he didn't have time to stay and chat. He quickly headed to the seventh and top floor, where he was set to give a meeting about Moscow. He arrived in time, just ahead of all his various heads of departments. He brushed his suit off, got his best corporate face on, and spoke for an hour about Moscow, shares, investments and other corporation things.

It was very stereotypical and rather dreary, but Draco enjoyed it. It was numbing, and simple; not evil and villainous. He was good at business as well, and it didn't give him nightmares. The corporate world was perfect for him.

At the end of the meeting, he retreated into his office and sat down at his desk. He was decently tired, and didn't really want to do any work, though his workload was pilling up quickly. He was staring blissfully into space when a knock on the door jolted him back to reality.

"Yeah?" He called out, rather grumpily.

The door opened and a sandy haired man walked in. It was his head of international offices, Mr. Seamus Finnigan. It still amazed Draco that Seamus was one of his top and most reliable guys in the office. Why the Gryffindor had wanted to work for him after the war was still a mystery to him, but whatever. The man was good at his job.

"Malfoy?" Seamus entered, tentatively, obviously noticing his grumpy mood. Draco smirked. He had taught Seamus well.

"Yeah Finnigan?" he said, trying to sound more cheerful. He sounded like he was on helium.

Seamus's mouth twitched, but he continued on. "Good news, sir."

"Which is?"

"You know how you wanted to open some offices in North America?" Draco nodded. "Well, I've been in contact with some wizards over there, and I think I have an idea." Draco now started paying attention.

"So, the wizards in Toronto need an industry like well, Malfoy Industries. I've been looking into it, and if we get an office there in the next little while, we will get some serious galleons."

"Umm…where's Toronto?" Draco asked, feeling a bit stupid.

"Canada," Seamus replied, his mouth twitching again.

"Like, beavers and ice?" Draco asked, an early lesson on countries coming back to him.

"Pretty much. It's one of the biggest cities in Canada, and the majority of wizards in Canada reside in or near Toronto. It's a big magical area, who knows why? But seriously, there are tons of wizards, and they want Malfoy Industries."

"Hmmm," Draco said, nodding. Canada. That could work. They could get a lot of galleons from that area, it appeared. It seemed like an ideal new location. Little cold, but oh well. He could deal.

"Alright," Draco smiled at Seamus, business being one of the only other things he smiled about.

"Perfect," Seamus replied. "If we want an office there, we need to send you over this week to set it up. I already found a location, and I know some people from this office who wouldn't mind transferring."

"Why do I have to go?" Draco whined, sounding very much like a five year old denied dessert.

"Same reason as Moscow. You own the company, and even though you are a total git, you're great at business.

Draco nodded. It was true. Oh well, the company was the most important thing to him now. He guessed he had to go.

"Fine," Draco said, with a little spite in his voice from the "git" comment. "As long as no one gives me a beaver."

Seamus laughed and exited the office chuckling, "You really know nothing about Canada."

Original A/N: Hey guys! I know the beginning of the chapter is kind of crappy and is a little dark and such, but I wanted to make it clear Draco suffered from the war a fair amount. I also wanted to make his relationship with his mother clear. Those things are important. The next few chapters won't be so focused on that, I just needed to make those two things clear early on. Review