Draco covered his eyes to block out the blinding light of the sun streaming in through the white curtains that waved gracefully in the ocean breeze. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up remembered himself. They were in the Antilles, away from the wizarding world and what was left of Hogwarts. More importantly, he remembered the Dark Lord was dead, finally...thankfully.
Looking back, Draco could not remember when Voldemort had not been a part of their lives. Even when he had disappeared for years when Draco was just a young boy, his father's desire to keep in Voldemort's favor ruled his family's every action. The years of plotting and scheming cumulated to Voldemort's return in Draco's fifth year at Hogwarts, then his father's imprisonment in his sixth year, followed by Voldemort's take over of Malfoy Manor this past summer. Lucius's years of hard work had paid off grandly, to the dismay of them all.

Bile rose in his throat when he recalled the constant overwhelming dread. Not being able to eat, or sleep, constantly living on edge not knowing whether his next action or word from his mouth would earn him the killing curse. He had been positive they would all be dead by the time Voldemort was through. It was just a matter of time. But then Potter had fulfilled the rumored prophecy brilliantly by ridding the world, and more importantly, Draco himself, of that snake faced monster.

Potter.

He snarled at the thought of him. He was obligated to the man now. Potter had saved his life, saved him from a dreadful burning death in the Room of Requirement. Better yet, he had saved Draco's entire family from a lifetime of servitude to the Dark Lord by artfully and intelligently doing the lunatic in. Turns out it was a battle of
wits and guts really. Or maybe, just maybe Potter really was the strongest wizard of their time, but Draco was not ready to concede that to that argument just yet. Still, there was old magic that bound them now. There was no way around it.
The last time he saw Harry, he was lying across Ron's lifeless body. Potter's arms were wrapped around him, inconsolable over the loss of his friend. His recent triumph forgotten. Draco was finding his way out of the castle with his parents when they came across the two in the deserted hallway. Somehow the sight unnerved Draco. He felt something toward Potter he had never felt. Pity maybe. Compassion, possibly. He never lost anyone close to him, and could not name one person who he could call a true friend as he knew Ron had been to Harry.

The closest person to him was his mother. He could not imagine her loss though he had anticipated it several times over the past few months. Strangely, he felt compelled to approach Potter, offer his apologies and just sit with him while he grieved. The impulse was foreign to him, yet it seemed to be the right thing to do. He was only struck with such an impulse once before, back at the manor while his dreadful Aunt Bellatrix
was torturing Hermione. The sight was sickening, and amazingly heart breaking. He was desperate to help her, even after the years of taunting he had subjected her to. Only he knew his taunts were in an effort to cover his real feelings he had toward her, the attraction he had felt the moment he saw her back in their first year.
He recalled when he found out she was muggle born. He actually felt a pain in his heart knowing she was forbidden completely to him. Watching her being tortured years later, he knew he had to do right by her somehow and found his chance when he was asked to identify her.

He wished he could tell them exactly who she was, well to him at least but his feelings didn't matter and would have resulted in both their deaths, so he lied instead. No, he didn't know her. It was the right thing to do then, as joining Potter would have been the right thing to do last night too. Some how he knew Potter was the kind of person that
would put their past behind him and accept Draco's peace offering. Instead, his father had grabbed him by the cloak and dragged him away, leaving Harry's call for Hermione echoing behind them.
Leaving bed, he walked across the cool tiles, through the curtains that served as the rooms only walls, to the balcony off his room. He loved this place. They were high up on the edge of the cliff face over looking the rich turquoise water that stretched to eternity before him. They hadn't visited this particular villa in years. The Dark Lords hold over his family prevented them from leaving Malfoy manor, let along travel for pleasure.
It was a relief to be back. No one in the wizarding world knew of this particular Malfoy residence. It was, of course in the muggle world, safe away from all speculation and condemnation. It was his father's retreat. A place he could hide away from the whispers and stares that had plagued their family for years, since the Voldemort's first attempt to kill Harry. Of course Draco was just a baby then but they had traveled to this spot so many times through the years, it felt more like home than even the manor did at this point.

The fact that they where there held so many deeper meanings for them all. They were free. His mother, father, himself. Maybe for once, they could have normal lives and function as a real family. Maybe his father would put aside his prejudices and ambitions, and would decide to live a quiet life with no twisted causes and strives for power. Maybe his father would be loving and kind for once in his life.

This place also meant a second chance for Draco. As he was escorted away from Potter anguished cries, he made a promise to himself. He would no longer be what every one, in particular his father, had expected him to be. He would be the person that had been deeply hidden and repressed.

The real Draco.

Of course he would have to work at it, work at letting that part of him exist with out fear of reprisal. He knew he was not the cruel person he was so carefully cultivated to be. It would be hard to let the old, learned and mastered habits go but he would try. He had to try. He could no longer pretend to hate people for just having the wrong bloodline. He could no longer pretend to hate Potter or Granger, or any other folk for that matter, just because they weren't wizard royalty. First though, he had to tell his parents, Let them know straight out who he truly was, how he truly felt. Let them know how he had been putting on an act for years. Let them know he would not live the rest of his life in a lie. If they would not accept him, he would have to go off on his own. There was no way around it.

With that realization, he sighed and ran his hand through his long blond hair that had grown due to months of neglect, while their homes and their lives had been consumed by Voldemort. Making up his mind was the easy part. His father was not a kind or understanding man. He would most likely end up on his own but with his trust fund still untouchable for months. He would be like a helpless child. He kicked at the railing in frustration. Damn! It could not be as easy as walking in and saying "Morning Mum, morning Father. Today I'm going to go hug a muggle." He would have to wait it out, slowly wean his parents into seeing the new and improved Draco Malfoy.
"Draco?"
"Out here mother" he called, frustrated.
"Draco, we need to see you downstairs, now." There was a tone to her voice. Panic? Fear?
"I'll get dressed and be down shortly"
Suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest. Something was wrong. Was he back? Was Voldemort somehow still alive? No, it couldn't be. If there was any possibility, Potter would not have been so ecstatic at his final blow that fell the beast. What ever it was, it could not possibly be worse than all Voldemort had inflicted.
Grabbing the discarded clothes from the night before, he shook them out and started to dress, but paused. His shirt still stank of the fire...of the war. Disgusted, he threw it onto of his discarded black pants and cloak. Gathering them all in his arms,
he walked out to the balcony and threw the entire lot into the ocean below.
"Good riddance" he muttered.
It was a good way to start his new life. Swearing he would never wear black again, he opened his armoire; he pulled out a white linen drawstring pants, and a matching button-down shirt. Island-wear, he thought as he grinned briefly before remembering his waiting parents.

Choosing to go barefoot, he left his sandals behind to join his parents.
Lucius and Narcissa were seated at the table on the outside veranda. His father, reading today's Daily Prophet, closed it up and motioned to the only empty chair at the table as Draco entered.
"There's been a complication" he said in his low draw.
"What do you mean complication?" Fear prickled through him. It must be true. Potter hadn't completed the job, the incompetent git!
Any praise he had for the man only minutes before was gone. Opening the paper, then folding it purposely, Lucius turned it so Draco could have a clear look at the papers headlines.
"Hermione Granger missing, feared dead"
Draco's heart seized in his chest. Grabbing the paper fiercely from his fathers grip, he kicked his chair out and walked to the veranda wall over looking the water. There was a picture of the golden trio, Hermione standing in the middle of Ron and Harry, smiling
grandly. Reading over the article quickly, he only caught a few words:
"Ronald Weasley dead; no body yet found in the search for Miss Granger."
"Possibly kidnapped or killed by Lucious and Draco Malfoy, last seen leaving the great hall moments after Voldemort's demise"
"What? Father, you have to get in touch with the ministry, you have to tell them where we are, so the can clear us of these charges!"
"Read further Draco" Lucius encouraged calmly.
Picking up where he left off, Draco only read a few more lines before he came across what his father wanted him to see:
"It is speculated that Draco Malfoy is to blame for the death of Ronald Weasley."
"Father, this is ridiculous. You must floo there now; tell them I had nothing to do with this!"
"It's not that simple Draco. I am still a wanted Death Eater. I cannot simply walk into the ministry declaring your innocence! They would have me thrown in Azkaban the moment I show my face."
"You can't or you won't?" Draco spat, "You won't go there to defend your only son in an effort to save your own hide."
All the years of yearning for his father's affections and approval, all the years of suffering at his father hands and words welled up in him. As he felt the last glimmer of hope he had for a normal life slip away, he exploded. Flying across the table, he grabbed his father by the collar, pulled him out of the chair and pushed him to the veranda wall, leaning him dangerously over the edge.
"Tell me why I shouldn't let go. Tell me why I should care if you die or not, you miserable bastard. Your wands' still on the table father, you can't save yourself"
Lucius's eyes bulged in fear, but his voice stayed even.
"You couldn't kill Dumbledore, but you would kill your own father Draco?"
"Dumbledore was kinder than me in those last few moments that you have been my entire life. The word father means nothing to me."
"Be that as it may, I have only done what I thought best for our family, Draco. Including yourself, which is why we will stay here until this Miss Granger is found and the dust from the war settles a bit."
A gentle hand rested on Draco's shoulders.
"Draco darling, please stop. Please" said a soft voice.
There were tears in his mother's eyes. Eyes that were saying much more than her words had. They were sad, pleading eyes. She loved his father despite all he had put them through. Draco knew she understood his anger just as he knew she understood Lucius in a way Draco would never be able to. She was the one person he could ever depend on, the only person who had ever really loved him. He could not hurt her, even if it meant not hurting Lucius. Pulling his father up away from danger, he let go of his grip around the man's throat. He had to leave, just get away from his father and mother and clear his head. Stepping back, he gave his mother a quick look of apology, then with a pop, he apparated away.