A/N: I'm sorry, this may be a little boring, but I have to set the story…
Must I write the Disclaimer every time?
Chapter One
Losses and Remorse
Graduation. It was supposed to be a happy time for most classes. Not ours. It was a graduation plagued by loss and sorrow. Out of the many children to arrive at Hogwarts seven years ago, only twenty-five stayed, or survived, to see graduation. Ten from Gryffindor, seven from Ravenclaw, five from Hufflepuff, and three from my own house of Slytherin.
I really didn't want to be there, seeing as how my own mother was killed in the final war. The only consolation I had was that the person responsible for her death had joined her there. I only wished I had been the one to kill him. All I had left was my father, and he was nowhere to be found. So I was alone, a seventeen year old wizard whose name was badly tarnished. Pansy was sitting to my left, Crabbe to my right, as the great old bat of a wizard, Dumbledore, gave his end of the year speech. I wasn't really listening, my mind elsewhere. I found myself gazing over the heads of the students remaining and remembered how we had all fought amongst ourselves, starting our own little war in these halls. The teachers could not teach, and the students refused to learn. Our last year in school was wasted on those petty squabbles.
I was so deep in thought that I did not see who my gaze landed on until she looked over at me, confusion in her eyes. Hermione Granger. Not in the mood to fight, I averted my gaze. She had a fire in her eyes now that wasn't there when we first met. She had become a little less strict and a bit more . . . dark. She had suffered a great loss, but not only from a person. She had suffered a loss of her innocence. A loss of her naiveté. I had heard that she was moving on to the Ministry, working in Muggle Relations. A fine position for her, I thought to myself.
Sitting next to her was Ron Weasley, the scourge of the wizarding world. Or so I had believed. Now I had a greater respect for him, as I saw him fight for his friends. He had also changed and sorrow followed him as a duckling to its mother. Four of the Weasley children had been killed, among them Ginny. The Dark Lord had finally fulfilled his threat from almost five years previous. Ron's loss could never compare with his mother, though. She had lost her husband as well, leaving her alone with three of her remaining children. With Ron graduating and Ginny dead, she truly had no one. I almost sympathized.
Dumbledore finished his speech and scattered clapping echoed throughout the Great Hall. All I wanted was to leave this damned school and get on with whatever meager life I was going to live. No such luck. As the feast began and parents stood up to mingle, Hermione left Ron's dreary side and approached me.
"How are you doing, Draco?" she asked calmly, sitting beside me. I shrugged, picking at the small amount of food I had on my plate.
"Why don't you tell me? I have no family left. No real friends. Life is going just so well for me."
I could tell that she was trying not to show the pity she felt and it made my shame boil up inside. No longer was I just a boy who lashed out at anyone I looked down on. No no, I was not that boy any more. I did not hate this woman in front of me simply because she was not a pureblood. Instead, I almost envied her for that, as being pureblood was one of the main criteria for the Dark Lord's Army.
So I did not hate her for being what she was. Nor did I hate Weasley. I only hated the one who had died, the one who had slain my mother. Hermione placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch.
"Draco, you have friends." I turned on her, all my frustration raging over.
"Do you think you are my friend now? You think that since we fought the same battle that you are my friend? If that is the case, you know nothing of me, little girl," I hissed, taking a sip of the cider in front of me. She recoiled, almost as if I had hit her. The truth was, I wanted –needed- friends more than ever. But there was something about her that I could not name, and that frightened me. I don't like to be frightened of the unknown.
"But Draco. . ." she started before Pansy Parkinson cleared her throat threateningly. That snobby little brat had not changed as most others had. She was still the sniveling, conniving priss who bared her teeth but could not bite.
Looking hurt, Hermione stood up and walked away to where her parents waited for her. I watched her with interest, thinking how she looked that night in the rain. The lights from the spells that flew all around bounced off of the glistening rainwater clinging to her hair. I had watched her then too, fought beside her against the Dark Lord and against my only father. The image of his surprise and hateful fear when I pointed my wand at him is forever burned in the back of my mind. I allowed him to run away that night, as my mother's screams filtered through the rest of the noises of the battle. I fought back a tear at the memory of my clumsy path to her, getting hit by a few curses along the way. Hermione was there, helping me find my mother. My former enemy grabbed my arms, pulling me through the mud, even as I pushed her away. When a curse hit me, she performed the counter curse. When I fell, she hauled me to my feet. Our sweat mixed with the rainwater as we came across the fallen body of my mother alone beside a great tree. Standing above her was a teenage boy, normally unruly black hair held down by the water. His glasses had fallen somewhere in the forest we were all in and his wand tip was down, right at my mother. Uttering a cry of rage, I had lunged at him. Hermione, ever watchful, had pushed me back down into the mud.
"She attacked me, Draco. I had to defend myself," the other boy had pleaded. Hate filling my vision, I stared up at him and willed him dead with all my might. Hermione, with help from magic I assumed, kept me pinned to the ground. Then that red haired Weasley, Fred, broke in on us. He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away without a word to anyone. Later, I found out that the Dark Lord had appeared and Harry's turn had come. Both of their bodies had been discovered last, only a few feet away from each other. Fred's remains were a few paces away. The Dark Lord had finally faced his fear but Harry would see his parents again. Not a fitting punishment for the murderer of my mother.
Second A/N: Please Review, guys . . . please? I need to know what's going on with this story and everything helps. (Although praise is nice too!) Tell me if you want to read more, or I will take this one off. I don't want this to be a collect dust story! So reviews, pretty please?
