"There's no other way to put it," a tall, cloaked figure stated matter-of-factly. "It was the greatest defeat in the history of defeats. The greatest disappointment in the history of disappointments.."

A draft flowed steadily through the dimly-lit pub. The floorboards squeaked, and the windows rattled to the satisfaction of the owner. The dilapidated pub was new to Diagon Alley, as was the majority of the old shopping district. Knockturn Alley spewed into the once bright place full of hope and innocence. Only two locations remained unchanged: Borgin and Burkes was a valuable asset to the Death Eaters' cause, and Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes simply refused to be destroyed, try though the darkest of wizards may. Most of the shops had fallen into disrepair, some collapsing altogether. Of the old locations, only three remained utilized, though with different purposes. Olivander's now played host to Voldemort's second in command, and was devoted to the plotting and planning of the Dark Lord's reign. Gringotts now served as the headquarters of the Death Eater army. The vaults were largely untouched, but commerce was controlled by these evil wizards and witches.

As one may have imagined, the former gateway into the exciting adventure of the wizard world, The Leaky Cauldron, had been re-purposed. Now branded The Forked Tongue, its proprietor was recounting the events of that siege of Hogwarts where the most famous trio of young wizards was defeated. Although he was correct in his statements, even those directly involved in the events were growing weary of hearing him tell it. He had the attention of just one person. Just one other paid him any mind, and that was simply to stop him.

"Oh come off it, Draco." A voice called from a stool in front of the bar, "and pour me another drink."

A sarcastic cheer arose from the low din, and Draco Malfoy nodded curtly before obliging his patron.

"Tell me," a gruff voice called from a table in the pub's most shadowy spot. "What part did you play in this defeat, Malfoy?"

Draco silently blessed the terrible quality of light, although his reddened cheeks probably glowed brighter than any of the limited candles. He began wiping down glasses, not ready to reply to this obvious trouble maker.

The man stood from his spot, but had to hold onto the table to maintain his balance. "I asked you a question."

Draco didn't look toward the man, nor did he dream of dignifying him with a response. His only reaction, which clearly showcased his distaste for the line of questioning, was to spit into the glass he was holding, and continue wiping it down.

The speaker lumbered forward slightly, and became visible to those nearest him. The surrounding crowd gasped slightly, and backed their chairs away from him. Draco couldn't see the man, but the screeching of chair legs on the wooden floor caused him to squint against the darkness. There was no mistaking the figure before him. He knew the walk too well, and now that he thought he might recognize the person, he knew the voice immediately. The man's face became clear as he finally reached the bar, slamming his empty mug on the surface. The hair was just as wild, the scar just as visible. He shouted in Draco's face.

"What part did you play in my death!?"

"HARRY!"

-
Draco Malfoy bolted upright, a cold sweat coating his entire body. He looked around wildly, and struggled to catch his breath. His eyes were wide as saucers, and it was a full two minutes before he remembered where he was. A harsh light preceded a quiet voice, and Draco felt ashamed.

"Draco, sweetheart? Are you alright?"

He grunted in reply, and rubbed his eyes. He was quite sure he had shouted Harry's name out loud.

"Darling, it's not your fault."

"I know," he struggled not to shout.

"There was nothing you could do."

He stood up, and began pacing around the room, building up to something he'd been trying hard to bury deep within him. He walked over to the window, and looked out over the quiet street in the town he couldn't even remember the name of. He cursed the night for daring to look so peaceful, while he endured his eternal internal struggle.

"There's something I should have done, mother." He turned and faced her, tears leaving a trail in the dirt on his face. "I should have died fighting beside him."

Narcissa studied his face, entirely unsure of how to respond. "As should I have. Beside my sister."

Draco took a step toward her.

"We must all live with the choices we made, Draco my love. Nox," The light from the window was barely enough to show Narcissa exit the room.