After the dust settled on the rubble and fallout of the Battle of Hogwarts, the remaining Death Eaters were rounded up and sent to Azkaban. For Draco Malfoy, this meant losing his father. His mother only narrowly escaped due to her choice to save Harry's life by lying to Voldemort's face about his persistent survival. Draco, being a minor, was not punished – at least, not by the Ministry of Magic. Instead, they decided to send his class of peers back to Hogwarts for a pseudo-"eighth year" to make up for the disruptions the war had caused to their education. While this was a right sight better than Azkaban, Draco couldn't help but see this as a form of punishment, too.

Return to Hogwarts? After all he had done? He didn't believe it until he received his formal invitation via owl. He wasn't sure he wanted to stay home, either. Since losing Lucius, Narcissa had grown even more distant from Draco, and the one source of warmth in his home turned cold. He had to go back, though, as a sign of good faith and atonement. Draco understood the pretenses very clearly. This last year would be a test, to see if he would follow in his father's footsteps now that the Dark Lord was gone.

Draco was relieved now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead, and was secretly relieved that his father was no longer in his life. He felt some sort of justice, even, that his father was in Azkaban. Even before the Dark Lord's influence, he was a cruel, prideful, cold-hearted man. Azkaban deserved him.

Lucius wasn't worth all the hatred in Draco's heart, however. Some, he saved for himself. It chafed his ego to admit he had made mistakes, but the weight of his regrets was heavy enough without trying to maintain his pride. True, he had been raised to look down on muggle-borns, but to be painted with the same colors as those who would see them all dead… It sent chills down his spine. He had spent weeks scratching at the skin where his Dark Mark was, trying to scrape it off. He had only succeeded in adding to the multitude of scars in his skin and terrifying his mother.

And then there were the nightmares. The months when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was living under his roof, when the screams would wake him up at night and he witnessed true Evil, replayed behind his eyelids until he drove himself to exhaustion to escape sleep. Only when his pride was well and truly shattered did he resort to taking Dreamless Sleep before bed. Now he couldn't sleep without it. It was the first thing he packed, safely tucked away at the bottom of his luggage, when he prepared to go back to school.

The dust never seemed to settle on Draco's life. Deafening whispers followed him through Platform 9¾, and dread sank in his gut as he searched desperately for an empty compartment. Luckily for him, the third from the back was unclaimed. A sigh broke through his lips as he dropped into the seat, but he couldn't quite taste the relief on his breath. As the train rolled out of the station, he thought on his predicament.

He used to sit happily atop the Slytherin social ladder, but since the war's conclusion unfolded as it did, he expected his house to be the victim of merciless bullying this year, especially for his peers. He was a traitor to his school and to the Cause, saddling him squarely between the resentment of both sides. Due to his father's involvement, he was unfortunately somewhat at the pinnacle of this tension, as well. That his family so readily followed the Dark Lord's leadership earned him the hatred of all those who fought against him, and that his family ultimately failed the Dark Lord earned him the hatred of those who would've seen him succeed. Yes, he was very aware of his position.

Then there was the issue of the Boy Who Lived himself. What should he do if faced with the Golden Trio? Sneer? Avert his eyes? Would they lash out at him? If Potter tried to hit him, should he stand and take it? Or would that make him more of a target? Panic stirred in his chest and he took a deep breath to try to assuage it. He could cross those bridges when he came to them. For now, he turned his gaze out into the rolling, green hills and thought of his mother. He had been in no place to offer her comfort, but now that she was alone in that big, cold house, how would she fare? The panic in his ribs turned to worry and he idly scratched at his Dark Mark.

Draco was deeply lost in throughout the entire train ride, and when they finally came upon the rebuilt castle, it was too soon. With his jaw set and a familiar scowl in place, he gathered his luggage and followed the flow of students out into the night. He tried to keep his head down, ignore the whispers and the way the crowd seemed to part before him, but his desire to avoid the Three Musketeers drew his gaze up to rake over faces. Most were strangers, some were slightly familiar acquaintances, even fewer were those he once considered friends, but they all had something in common: fear. They were afraid of him. He briefly considered how this might be an advantage. Luckily, he didn't spot those he most wanted to avoid, and he was setting his things down for the elves before that luck ran out. He let the crowd carry him into the Great Hall where he found a seat at the Slytherin table, as far from other students as he could. Once everyone was seated, McGonagall stepped up to the podium and the general hubbub of students hushed.

"A new year begins at Hogwarts. I wish to welcome you, and welcome you back, not with warnings or bad news, but with hope. The reality of us all gathering once again in this Hall is a victory – a triumph in the face of evil. Let us never forget, we are witches and wizards, and we do not cower in the face of fear. We stand firm, we reunite, and we push on. Let this year be a new chapter in our stories."

Here, McGonagall removed her half-moon glasses and paused.

"However, a word of caution is necessary at this moment of transition. Many, if not most of us have lost, in the past year, that which we will never regain. That can never be undone. It is now up to every individual to decide how we will allow that to change us. I urge you all to pursue the best possible outcomes. It is all too easy to allow the war to live on in our hearts, should we yield to hatred. Forgiveness is no petty trifle to give, but therein lies healing. And healing, dear students, is a goal I think we can all prioritize."

Draco swallowed and ducked his head to watch his fingers tug at his sleeve. He sat, lost in thought, as the sorting ceremony commenced.

At one point, he happened to glance up across the hall and his eyes immediately met all-too-familiar green eyes. He ducked his head with a flush, hoping he'd be able to avoid a confrontation with the Boy Who Lived, but imagining different scenarios nonetheless.

He might confront me alone. That seems much more predictable for our hero than public bullying. Still, I can't afford to let my guard down.

He unconsciously started scratching at his arm again as his anxiety took over. Yes, this was quite a suitable punishment.

"Mr. Potter, might I have a word?"

McGonagall pulled me aside as Ron, Hermione and I were leaving the Great Hall. I cast a glance at them, but aside from mild curiosity, they didn't seem to mind.

"Er… Sure."

I followed her to Dumbledore's old office - her office now. Dumbledore's portrait hung empty above the desk, where she turned to address me.

"I presume you're aware some… Unexpected peers of yours have returned this year."

My brow twitched.

"You mean Malfoy."

"Among others, yes. It's Mister Malfoy I wish to address."

"Prof- Headmistress, do you really think it wise to invite him back?"

McGonagall's usually stern expression seemed to tighten as she considered her response.

"It was ultimately the decision of the Ministry, I believe, as a way to keep an eye on them. Do you see him as a threat?"

"Well… No, not a threat, but…"

"I'd like to ask you a favor, Harry." I was shocked to hear her use my first name, but realized whatever she was about to ask was important.

"What's that?"

"I'd like you to set an example to the other students. They might be afraid of the ones who've been given a second chance, but I'd very much like to avoid that chance going to waste."

I blinked.

"You… Want me to… Be nice to Malfoy?"

"I realize what I'm asking, given your history, but if you're the one to accept him, I'm sure the others will fall in line."

I wanted to laugh at her outrageous request, but the sincerity in her eyes stopped it in my throat. A whirlwind of emotions flooded through me, and I was silent for a long while. Finally, after what must've been 50 seconds, I sighed.

"I get it. Bullying the bullies perpetuates the cycle, the healing process has supposedly begun, I heard your speech. But Malfoy-"

"Has no one and nothing. He survived the same war as you and I. My job here is to nurture the next generation of witches and wizards, and that job doesn't end with problematic individuals, but that's rather where it begins."

I grit my teeth. Malfoy pissed me off, but I couldn't deny her words were making sense. This would be for the best, and I couldn't just stop doing the right thing now that the war was over.

"Fine. I won't promise we'll end up best mates, but I'll… Protect him from the others."

McGonagall took my hands in hers and squeezed, surprising me again.

"Thank you."

The Room of Requirement was arranged as dorms for all the eighth-years, so they wouldn't over-crowd their usual house dorms, but sharing a space with everyone seemed to Draco like a recipe for disaster. At least everyone would get their own rooms, but wading through the sea of his peers gathered in the common room, he felt like a sardine thrown to sharks.

No one would speak to him the first day, of that he was sure. But that wouldn't last long. He quickly dodged all interaction and fled up the spiral staircase to the boy's quarters and found his room. Once the door shut behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd made it this far, hadn't he? He couldn't give up now.

With a scowl, he set to work unpacking his luggage which was waiting for him at the foot of his bed. Luckily, he would be reusing all the textbooks he'd previously bought, and was already somewhat familiar with the contents. The classes wouldn't be the hard part of this semester, but he still intended to focus on passing his NEWTs. Getting out of here was the ultimate goal.

After that, though? He paused unloading his clothes into the dresser. Any possible future he had previously imagined revolved around his father's influence, but now that he was out of the picture… Draco came up empty.

Anyone willing to hire an ex-Death Eater would either be engaged in something shady, or a bare-minimum level job. He shuddered as he considered the possibility of having to get a muggle job. Neither option appealed. A third option festered just beyond the reach of his perception, but he ignored it.

He flopped on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. Everything used to be so certain, and now nothing was. Just get out of here and go back to mother. She needs you. So long as mother was alright, he could bear any uncertainty.

The exhaustion of the day started to weigh on Draco, but before he let himself succumb to sleep, he hastily withdrew his Dreamless Sleep from his luggage and downed a mouthful. No way was he going to sleep his first night back at Hogwarts without it. He eventually fell asleep, still fully-clothed.

"She asked you to do what?" Ron complained from the floor of my room after I explained what McGonagall had said.

"I know, I know. Be the bigger man and all that, but is she barking mad?"

"Malfoy's never going to change, what exactly does she hope being nice to him will do?" Hermione intoned from the window.

"I don't think anyone can reasonably hope he would change. I think it's more for the sake of the esprit de corps."

"Bollocks," Ron scoffed.

"Still," I continued with a sigh. "Might be fun to hold a debt over his head."

"Think he'd ever… Y'know… Apologize?" Hermione wondered.

"No," Ron and I immediately answered in unison.

"That's just the thing, though," I continued. "Do you think he's even sorry?"

A deafening silence stretched out after this question.

"Who knows?" Ron finally interjected with a groan. "Do we have to be nice to him immediately? Couldn't the git just get what's coming to him for a few weeks first?"

"If he survives that long," I chuckled, but it turned into a sigh. "Quite a task she's assigned to me, eh?"

"Really isn't fair," Hermione muttered to the stars.

"Still," Ron hopped to his feet. "We've always got your back, yeah?"

I smiled and nodded as they took hands. My best friends.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Anyway, g'night."

They made towards the door, leaving me to my thoughts.

"Night, Harry."

"Night."

I yawned and started undressing for the night, still mulling over McGonagall's request. Set an example for the others, eh? Will I ever get to stop being the bigger man, just because of who I am?

Just before crawling into bed, I hesitated at my luggage. Slowly, deliberately, I withdrew my Dreamless Sleep from a secret compartment within it. I couldn't let Ron or Hermione - especially Hermione - know I'd been taking it just about every night, but I just couldn't risk the nightmares. I knew the risks and consequences of continued usage, but still, I popped the cork out and threw back a dose. I wouldn't be dependent on it forever, I knew that, but just for now…

A shameful flush stole into my cheeks as I crawled under the covers of my bed. How weak…