Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or locations. They all belong to JK Rowling.

I'm on a Saving Able kick. They're song 18 days has inspired this next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and be prepared for a super sad.

Love,

Avoline.

Draco was sitting in an old, worn out lawn chair. They had been traveling on foot for a while, and Hermione had grabbed it so that she could cut the boys hair. Which was what she was doing now. His hair had gotten longer than he liked, and she had offered to cut it. He was a bit hesitant, until Ron pointed out that Draco was beginning to look more like his father. He decided Hermione's hair cuts couldn't be near as bad as looking like his father. He was focusing on the names being listed on the radio, hoping to drown out the sound of the scissors.

"... Alice Moonchild, Juniper Reed, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy..."

Everyone stopped. Draco held his breath, then jumped up and ran towards Ron. The red-head was staring at the radio, his eyes wide and full of... fear, maybe.

"Ron, tell me I did not just hear my parent's names on that list," Draco whispered.

"Of course, not, mate," Ron answered. "They'll go through the list again. They always do. Maybe we all just heard wrong." Draco could see Harry just within his peripheral vision. But Draco was fixated on the radio. After a few moments, the man went through the list again.

"... Juniper Reed, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy..."

Draco felt his chest ache. His breath came in short, strained burst. He fell to his knees, still focused on the radio. He could hear Hermione's voice, but it sounded muffled and distant. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes, allowing tears to flow freely down his face. He could barely feel someone's hand on his shoulder. Sorrow washed over him, and let out a scream of guilt.

They're gone. They're gone. It's all my fault. I should have never left.

He let out another scream. He was the only person left of his family. He was the last Malfoy.

It's all my fault. I got them killed. It should be my name on that list.

Draco stared at the ground as he sat on the make-shift bed. It had been a little over two weeks since that horrible night. He had cried himself to sleep every night, thinking about what might have been. Harry tried to comfort him, but even he couldn't ease the pain. If it hadn't been so tragic, Draco would have found it funny. Harry Potter, the orphan boy, couldn't ease the pain of someone who had just lost his parents.

He looked up at the sound of someone moving. Ron had stood up, and he didn't look happy. Draco silently stood and followed him while still keeping a distance.

"But there's one problem," Harry's voice chimed. Ron pulled a device out of his pocket and clicked it. The light went out, and Draco knew it was about to get ugly. He backed towards the door of the tent.

"The sword was stolen," Ron said, the darkness in his voice sending shivers down Draco's spine. Ron clicked the device again, and the lights came back on. "Yeah. I'm still here. But you go ahead. Don't let me ruin anything."

"Is there something wrong," Harry asked. Draco kept an eye on Ron, hoping to anticipate his next move.

"Wrong? Nothing wrong," Ron answered.

"Don't try and lie to us," Draco piped in. "This is not how you normally act." Ron turned to him.

"Stay out of it," he growled. "We wouldn't be in this position if it hadn't been for you and your little army of Death Eaters." I snorted in disgust.

"Ron, leave him alone," Hermione pleaded. "He's been through enough, don't you think?" Ron whirled around to face her. Draco stared in shock. Ron was never like this towards her.

It must be the horcrux. He's been wearing it all day.

"So now you're going to defend him," Ron snapped, causing Hermione to jump. "After all the years he's called you a mudblood?"

"That's the past, Ron," Harry cut it. Ron turned to stare at him.

"You too," he growled. "You know why I listen to that radio every night? So that I don't hear Ginny's name. Or Fred, or George, or Mum."

"Do you think we're not listening," Draco questioned, his voice rising. "Do you think we don't know how it feels?"

"No, you DON'T know how it feels," Ron shouted. "Not anymore! You're parents, as well as Harry's, are dead, scumbag!" Draco lunged at Ron and grabbed his throat, pinning him against a wooden post. He pulled back his other hand and punched his victim in the nose.

"No one made you tag along," Draco snapped before Hermione and Harry pulled him off of Ron. "You could have stayed at home and not have to worry about this at all!"

"Then maybe I should leave," Ron snarled.

"Then go," Harry shouted. "Go on!" Ron snatched the locked off and threw it on the ground. Draco watched as he grabbed a bag and began stuffing his clothes into it. He started towards the door, then stopped and turned to Hermione.

"You coming," he asked sharply. She turned to Harry, then to Draco, before turning back to Ron.

Go with him. Harry and I will be fine. Just appease him for once in your life.

"Yeah, I see how it is," Ron growled, glaring first at Harry, then at Draco. "I saw you and Malfoy the other night."

"That was nothing," she shouted pleadingly. He ducked out the door. "Ron, wait!" She ran after him. Draco turned to look at Harry.

"I hadn't planned on punching him," he stated apologetically. Harry shook his head.

"I would have, too," he responded. Draco heard the radio start up, this time playing some song.

It's been 18 days

Since I'd look at myself

I don't want to have to change

If I don't then no one will

It occured to Draco that it had been 18 days since he heard his parents name on that radio. He walked over to the large wooden table and sat on one of the benches. Harry sat next to him, looking defeated.

Time after time

I've been through this

You showed me what it means to live

You give me hope when I was hopeless

As my days fade to night

I remember that state of mind

I'm soaring straight into your heart

And I'll fly high

"What were they really like," Harry whispered. "When everyone else wasn't looking." Draco began to tremble.

"Like normal parents," he croaked. "Mother was the best cook ever. We had to drag her out of the kitchen." Harry nodded.

"She made those sweets you used to get every week," he intoned. Draco nodded.

"They were the best," he muttered. "Father was very affectionate with her. He would smile and whisper into her ear, and she would giggle. I figured out what that damn giggle meant when I was about 13."

"What about towards you," Harry asked. Draco ran a hand through his hair.

"Mother was like any typical mother," he answered softly. "Doting, protective. She would have killed someone if they had messed with me. Father cared, in his own way." He could feel the tears stinging his eyes. "He was more disciplined, but I knew he cared. He was trying to make me be the man I'm suppose to be."

It feels like a lifetime

I'm trying hard to rearrange

Some say it's the hardest thing to do

But that's another 18 days

Without you

"The last thing I told Mother was that I would be home soon," Draco half sobbed. "I told her that this war would be over soon, that I would fail her." His chest began to ache again. He hung his head and let the tears fall from his eyes. He felt Harry's hand on his shoulder, and turned to see that he, too, was crying.

"You won't fail her," he comforted. "As long as the Dark Lord is brought down. Don't give up hope."