Part Ten:

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At eighteen, Draco Lucius Malfoy first learned about Strength and Choices.

The trials had come quickly. Not a soul who was involved had wanted to wait and drag out the aftereffects of the war any longer than necessary. The survivors had just wanted to have it done with, adamantly denying the masses of the largely uninvolved public the chance to turn it into a spectacle.

Draco was floored when the verdicts came in. Potter had stepped up and given a truthful, neutral, public account of everything he had known the war to have affected. Many of those who fought for the Light followed suit, setting the precedent that, yes, they too had done terrible and desperate things in the horror that was war. Most of them were pardoned or at most fined – not even the Wizengamot willing to incite the anger of the Wizarding world at large – and it set a precedent for the Death Eater trials to come.

Draco's mother had been issued a full pardon. Her role had largely been the aiding and abetting of fugitives, and in light of the fact that she had saved Potter's life there weren't many who were willing to push that. Secretly Draco wondered if Potter had intentionally helped with that – there was a rumor floating around about him accosting Narcissa and thanking her, even going so far as to kiss her hand and respectfully address her as 'Lady Malfoy.'

Draco's father's sentencing had been both the biggest surprise and the biggest relief. Draco had been worried that he would be sentenced to Azkaban for life or possibly even given the Kiss. Voluntarily, it seemed, Lucius Malfoy had been the first of the Death Eaters to offer a full testimony under Veritaserum. He told every detail he knew from both the first and the second wars, putting names and faces to deeds and admitting to all that he himself had done. There were a few tense moments when Lucius testified against some of the most powerful people in the Ministry, but somehow those listening managed to hold it together.

Draco had been discreetly watching from a doorway as his father had come undone in the courtroom. The man he saw there was a far cry from the act of the devoted servant he'd witnessed in his father's library what seemed like ages ago. Fear and revulsion were clearly marked on his face as he listed his crimes in detail. His voice broke more than once and years of pent up emotion were released as he was forced by the potion to tell the exact and precise truth. Draco knew he would hear it from Eshe at one point when he relayed that she had been right. Abraxas Malfoy had not been a kind man, and his only son had done everything he could to please him – including joining his Lord. He had done the bare minimum necessary at first, but once Lucius was married and knew Narcissa to be pregnant he did what he could to rise in the ranks and secure what protection he could for him family.

As Azkaban was still being rebuilt in the wake of the defection of the Dementors, Lucius was instead offered a very rigid sentence of fines, house arrest, and weekly Auror interviews for a period of seven years. Draco could have cried right there in front of everyone, and the strained look on his father's face spoke volumes of the same. Lucius graciously accepted his sentencing, and it started a bit of a flood after that. Many of the other Death Eaters who thought their crimes even lesser offered up their own Veritaserum accounts, putting to rest decades of cold cases and accounting for hundreds of missing people.

When it was Draco's turn, he worried. In the wake of the war, Albus Dumbledore had risen to new heights of heroism. That Draco was the – somewhat indirect – cause of the man's death was sure to weigh heavily against him; the years of well-known friction with the Savior heaped on top of that didn't bode well either. It was a surprise to him when so many of those who stepped up to the stand to testify during his case did not denigrate him. There were a few, naturally, but one by one he also saw many of his Housemates and friends – as well as the Death Eater children from other Houses – step up to vouch for him. His parents gave their own abbreviated accounts, as the court had already heard them speak. And then there had been Potter, saving him again. He reiterated what he had seen of a terrified Draco through the Dark Lord's eyes, then correlated it to what he knew of the man himself. He spoke of Draco's unwillingness to identify him when the Snatchers had brought the Golden Trio to the manor. He pressed that it was the sympathetic magic of Draco's wand that he wielded to strike the final blow.

Ultimately, Draco was offered three options. The first was that he could accept terms similar to his father's, but for five years. The second was that he could assist with the rebuilding of Hogwarts over the summer and lessen it to three years. The third option – which he was informed was argued forth by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall herself – nearly did him in. He would be expected to assist with the renovations until they were completed and would also join the others his age returning to finish their studies as 'eighth year' students; after that, he would still have two years of house arrest, but it was negotiable if he was reported as having good behaviour.

It had been harder than he'd thought to choose the third option. He'd be a fool not to, of course. The idea that he would be allowed to finish his education was a gift beyond imagining. However, the idea of going back to the school that he had helped damage, with people he possibly had a hand in hurting, was enough to make him balk. The summer would be spent mostly amongst his yearmates and other adults who had taken part in the war – all people who would have full rights to use their magic. Once school started, the adults would be gone but then the presumably rasher children would have access to him. He wasn't certain he had the amount of inner strength he would need in the days to come. With no small amount of trepidation, he signed the deal.

The summer had seemed to drag on forever. It seemed that some of the attackers who couldn't find human targets had instead taken to just destroying areas of the castle instead. Walls required rebuilding and many ceilings needed to be reinforced. The wards were horribly damaged, but it was mostly professionals who had been called in to see to those with the occasional layman lending a bit of their magical energy in assistance. Many scholars, tutors, and apprentices were called in to assist in their areas of study, such as weatherproofing the roofs and fixing the broken illusion charm on the interior roof of the Great Hall. There were others – mostly students – who were like Draco and serving some sort of court sentence by assisting, but the majority of the work force seemed to be made up of volunteers.

By the end of June, there were some who wondered if Draco hadn't just volunteered. He had thrown himself into the work, laboring from sunup to sundown and making sure every little thing he did was absolute perfection. He never turned from a task, even when it would get him dirty or would tire him. When he did take notice of the time or his thirst, he would always bring back a few more refreshments for those he was working with. He took pride in the work he did, and it was all for one shining fact: he had chosen this.

For the first time in his life, he had been given options, and all of them would have left him alive and well. He had deliberated and gone for the path of his own choosing. It was terrifying; it was wonderful. In those months, he let go. He smiled more, he laughed often. He'd still sneer on occasion, but it was never cruel – usually it was in response to some particularly filthy task that needed doing. Any taunts he threw had little to no barb in them save for the occasional moment when someone came to try their hand at insulting him. He wasn't really sure if that was the man he wanted to be or if it would make him happy, but he'd reveled in the simplicity of his life for the moment.

When August finally wound down, the enormous efforts put forth had paid off. There were only a few areas of the school that still needed work, which had helpfully been blocked off so crews could continue without disrupting the students. Students seventeen and older were informed that they could sign up to assist for extra commendations on their records. On the whole, the school looked perfect. Everything had been given a once-over, and there were no longer any areas blocked off to the student body as they had all been cleared out and made safe.

September first was met with an odd twist in Draco's stomach. This was the second time that he'd had to board the Hogwarts Express without his father to see him off. They'd had their moment back at the manor, but it was something else entirely to watch out the windows until he couldn't see him anymore. Narcissa had still come with him, fussing and straightening his collar and quietly inquiring if he had remembered everything at least a dozen times as only a mother was able. Draco had smiled and kissed her cheek gently before boarding, and dutifully kept watch of her pale, shining form until she faded from view.

He may have toiled there the whole summer through, but to take that first step through the main doors as a student again had taken a level of courage he had been previously unaware he possessed. Now, he was back in the same dungeon room he had lived in since he was eleven years old. There was a wave of nostalgia as he brushed open his bed-curtains and laid down the small bag he'd kept over his shoulder and began to unload it. Eshe and Penha's case came first, and he grinned when they both fluttered about as if stretching.

"Fancy seeing this place again," was the wry greeting he received from Penha. Very solemnly, he turned two of his fingers up in a rude salute, earning him a laugh from Penha and a scoff from Eshe. Draco soon caved, flopping onto his old bed and snuggling down into the pillows.

"I never thought I'd be here again either," he admitted quietly.

"But you are now. Things might not have happened as you'd wished, but now you have the chance to walk a path of your own choosing," Penha said brightly.

"Will you?" Eshe asked with a little hesistancy.

Draco breathed in to answer her, then let it out as a huff. He turned to look out at the room, struck by how empty it looked with only three beds instead of five. Vince was gone, killed by the fire he had started; Theo Nott wouldn't ever be returning due to the sentencing he'd faced for his own crimes. Draco shuddered as remembrance flooded through him, then he quickly shut those memories away in his mind.

It would be hard, he knew, to change the person he had been. Maybe he didn't have that weight on him that forced his hand, but after so many years there were some habits that were hard to break. Back in the same room at the same school – no matter the renovations – might tempt him to go back to the same ways.

"I will," he promised quietly, adamantly. There would be many who would revile his family in the times to come, and it was his duty to lessen that as much as possible. He would be the change – the changed person – that he would need to be to show them all. Perhaps it was a different burden of familial duty that he would be carrying now, but he gladly shouldered it this time. The fardels borne by him in the years before had given him the strength to stand up under this one.

He'd made his choices, and now he would live them.