Draco was rummaging though his sock drawer. Not really wanting to give the House elves any of his nicer silk socks. He looked for some cheaper ones further in. It did not seem possible that he would get to bring any of his nice clothes with him if he was going to Azkaban. But then again it went totally against him to waste absolutely good socks on creatures that only would use them as head-dresses. He glanced at Lupin and growled as he realized something.
"You must be quite happy now," Draco said stuffing his pockets full of socks.
"What do you mean?" Lupin looked up in anger, the hidden wolf peering though.
"Down, boy," muttered Draco. "I do not mean your wife, I'm sorry about her. I mean about your son."
"What about Teddy?"
"Have you not figured it out yet?" Draco sneered and walked passed Lupin out of the room. "I am the last Malfoy!" He did mot have any faith in his parents last desperate act. "By blood, the heir to everything that surrounds us, and more, is my mother's sister Andromeda Black. And her heir is your son."
Lupin gasped as he followed Draco though the rooms back to the sitting room.
"It was nice of Shacklebolt to leave you with me," continued Draco. "A little accident and you'll get the lot."
"That is outrageous!" protested Lupin. "How dare you?"
"I'm just telling things as I see them."
"You are talking like you already were in Azkaban, or dead."
"Am I not?" asked Draco with a sneer. "I have raped your hero, have I not?"
Draco wondered if one could go insane by jumping from extreme emotions too fast. He starred at the entrance of the castle to where the words had come. The first thing he wanted to do was to run there as fast as he could. But then he realized that he would actually see Potter die for real this time. He could not stand to have his heart broken for a third time in one evening. With that thought Draco froze to the spot. If Potter died, where would that leave him?
What would be Draco Malfoy's task in the new wizarding order under Voldemort? And further more… he continued thinking. What would Draco Malfoy's task be if Potter survived? Potter could be taken prisoner, or… Draco's mind was rising. What would happen to him if Potter won? Draco looked down at his cousin's wand. They would know it was hers, and they would think that he stole it from her. Maybe he just should let it go. But then he would be out of protection.
Potter, he thought again and began to move slowly towards the castle, avoiding stepping on or over the bodies before him.
He had never really thought about what would happen after the war. He had guessed he would just continue to follow orders. But what would those orders be? There were going to be muggle killings, he knew that. Every effort Draco had been involved in had just been about the war. Planning, scheming and fighting. He had never heard what would happen later. There had been vague hits that Snape might need a potions assistant… But what now, when Snape was dead? Draco bit his lip as he slowly climbed the stairs to the big door. If Potter survived, would the Dark Lord give him to Draco if he asked?
As he stood in the surprisingly empty entrance hall Draco suddenly felt faint. There was suddenly a horrible scream tearing though his head binging him down on his knees. He pressed his hands to the sides of his head trying to turn out the horrible sound. Then he felt a stinging pain in his left arm. Draco tore up his shirtsleeve looking down at the Dark Mark slowly fading away. It was… This was… What… Merlin! Fuck! Potter! Harry! The Dark Lord! Mother! Father!
"Draco!" he heard the desperate call of his mother hidden in the cheering coming from the Great Hall. "Draco!"
Without thinking of the consequences Draco opened the doors to the Great Hall. There were people cheering, screaming, laughing, and even singing. Nobody really seemed to take notice of him, and those who did; they did not seem to care. Someone pointed at him and laughed, someone else made him a rude gesture. Draco did not care, he saw his parents on the other side of the room. They stood against the far wall trying to stay out of everybody's way.
He raised his hand and waived to them. He was quite tall and his hair was, as always, easy to spot in a crowd. His mother burst in to tears at the sight of him, his father held up his hand. Draco realized that it was impossible to get to them without getting a mob on his heals. With a waiving hand gesture he signed to his father that he was going to try the Halls backdoor. Lucius did not look happy about this but gave a nod.
"Did you?" whispered Lupin in chock.
Draco did not answer. He had stopped in front of the stairs leading down to the dungeons. He could hear people down there rummaging away. It was doubtful that Voldemort would have left anything interesting down there. With a glance at Lupin's chocked face he descended the stairs. He was met by the sight of five aurors knocking on every stone on the downstairs corridor with their wands. Shacklebolt was one of them, Draco recognized a Weasley there as well, but could not tell witch one it was, not the weasel or a twin anyway.
"Are you looking for something?" asked Draco pulling out a sock from his pocket.
Shacklebolt looked at him.
"Any hidden passages we should know about?" he asked. "It would save us time."
"Why did you not ask to begin with?" snorted Draco casually handing the sock to the House elf standing newt to the stairs.
Shacklebolt's dark wide eyes darted between the elf making choking noises and Draco.
"Where is Lupin?" asked the Weasley, Draco knew him not to be Bill, the one who had been attacked by Greyback, there would be scars.
"He had to take a break," said Draco calmly walking passed him to the far wall of the corridor.
"A break from what?"
"Me, I guess." He pointed at the wall. "Three taps on this stone, one on this and two on this."
As Draco tried to get to the other side of the Great Hall he was sidetracked by one of the few moving stairs that had not yet given up its gist. A little turned around he suddenly stood in front of the Gryffindor House entrance. The painted Fat Lady was celebrating with some other paintings with in her frame.
"Malfoy?"
Draco turned around to see Potter. The boy looked tired, hardly able to stand. Draco's heart fluttered, wanting to hold out his hand to support him.
"Are you here to kill me?" asked Potter.
Draco stood back, not really knowing the answer to the question.
