Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did I would hire someone to do all my homework for me. Every day. For the rest of my life.

Zippy zany-thanks for the encouragement, and you're right, I don't review a lot either, I think I'll start though

Alexandria J. Malfoy- well you didn't have to wait long, this has been one of my quickest updates

Wendy-some D/G stuff for you, but most of the D/G stuff is in chapters still to come, but it will be there, I promise

Avalon64- thank you so much! I feel loved

DCoD- thanks for your constant reviews, and keep a look out in chapter 10 soon to come

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Most of the guests arrived Wednesday afternoon, although a few stragglers arrived the following day. Draco didn't like all of the people there, not only was it distracting when he already had so much to do, but because he was sick of the whispers and the points and the stares he received. He remembered times when he walked down Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley to be more precise, and people would bow low out of respect and fear, and although he had hated that, it was preferable to the looks he was getting now.

Normally he would be amused at the way people gawked at him, their expressions playing havoc with their faces, but these weren't normal times and he was pulling late nights in his office studying and running his business and writing those damnable speeches. He began categorizing people's reactions to him, and figuring out who is was safe to be with. None of the hard core Death Eater families that's for sure.

Deidre Lestrange, Bellatrix's niece, was thirty five years old and why she was not a Death Eater, Draco couldn't figure out. As soon as she saw him escorting a young widow and her child to an open area, she'd gone crazy and tried to hit him with a 'crucio'. Draco had her down on the ground, her wand in his possession, before the word had finished coming out of her mouth. Immediately Aurors were there and hauling her away to Azkaban. The other true Death Eaters glared at him, swore at him under their breaths, knocked into him purposefully, but did nothing serious.

Those Death Eater families who had never fully supported the Dark Lord were safe, though. They looked at him as if he was the Golden Boy himself, and those purebloods who had remained neutral were also okay to hang around with. They wouldn't try secretly poisoning him or what ever else the real Death Eaters were thinking about doing to him when they stared at him.

Those purebloods against the Dark Lord or those with Auror or Order relatives, he tried to avoid. They always seemed to follow him around, making sure he wasn't plotting the resurrection of Voldemort. They also watched him with accusing eyes full of hatred, disgust, and suspicion.

He generally avoided the Halfbloods and Muggleborns, because they just plain didn't like him, mostly his father's fault, but part of it was his. Because most of the people there hated him, he had his meals delivered to his office, where he was busy trying to stop the collapse of the Malfoy Enterprises, but he usually didn't bother.

He woke up Friday morning collapsed over his desk again, and hurriedly made his way down to the Slytherin Common Room to shower and dress. He then made his way down to breakfast, because as it was rather early, not many people would be there and because part of him figured that making a speech on an empty stomach wasn't the best of ideas.

He sat at the Slytherin table, none of his housemates were there yet, and the only other people in the hall was the entire Weasley family (minus Mr. Weasley, of course), Harry and Hermione. They all glanced at him when he entered and he pretended to have all of his attention on the food on the table. His stomach twisted as the odors from the eggs, bacon, and toast assaulted his nose and nausea rolled over him. He hadn't eaten lunch or supper the day before, save a dinner roll he had grabbed on the way to his office, and now the smell of food was too much for his body to handle at the moment.

Draco buried his head in his arms and let himself lean on the table. Maybe if he closed his eyes…

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, wake up." A gentle hand was shaking his shoulder ever-so-slightly and he moaned.

"What?" he managed, rubbing his tired eyes and staring around blearily. He focused on a pretty face framed by red hair with a slight smattering of freckles across the nose with bright hazel eyes.

"You fell asleep in the dining hall," said the littlest Weasley. "I figured I should wake you up before other people came in."

"Oh," said Draco, noticing more students starting to come in. "Thanks."

"No problem," she said. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," said Draco again, starting to get up.

"You're not going to eat?" asked Ginny.

"Already did."

"Liar."

"Is this really any of your business?"

"No," said Ginny. She picked up a piece of toast, smeared it liberally with jam, and bit into it. "Mmm," she said around the mouthful. "Strawberry is the best."

His stomach growled, deciding it was hungry after all. She smirked, mimicking his usual expression. He glared but sat again and grabbed a piece of toast. Deliberately ignoring the offered jar of strawberry jelly, he reached past it and selected the apricot jar, spreading an even, thin line of the jam on the bread. He bit into it, his own smirk on his lips.

She swallowed and stuck her tongue out at him, then returned to her toast.

"Didn't you already eat?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," she said. "But Ron and Charlie ate all the strawberry jam, so I decided since you didn't have any breakfast company I would join you and steal your jam. This way I look like a very friendly person, and also very kind, but I'm actually just looking out for myself."

"That's very Slytherin of you," said Draco.

"Not really, I also came over to see how you were doing, which is a pretty brave thing to do because we don't really like each other and Charlie keeps telling me you'll hex me the first chance you get."

Draco looked up to where her family was finishing their meal. They all kept glancing their way, that is to say, every one except Mrs. Weasley.

"It's not bravery, it's stupidity," he said.

"To each his own, then," said Ginny shrugging.

"Your mum seems to be the only one not sending death glares at me," said Draco.

"She's a mother," said Ginny, thoughtfully munching on her piece of toast. "She has an astounding capacity to love rather than hate. Not that she loves you, rather she's more worried about how you are doing than what you're doing."

"I don't need her pity," said Draco.

"Not pity, sympathy."

"Same difference."

"Not really," said Ginny. She took the last bite of her toast and then licked a bit of jam off of her finger. "Well, I'm off. I have to get ready for the service, good luck on your speech." She gave him a bright smile and stood up. "By the way, you're hair is doing that porcupine thing again. See ya."

Draco watched her rejoin her family, his expressionless mask hiding the fact that he was surprised at a certain redheaded Gryffindor girl. He too finished his breakfast and headed out of the dining hall to his dorm room to fix his hair.

Ginny was right; it was rather mussed. He combed it down and let the usual strands fall in front of his eyes. He would never slick it back again the way he did when he was little and still in awe of his father.

He checked his watch. Eight am; he really did get up early. He returned to his office to review his speech before the service.

At nine-thirty he changed onto his black dress robes and checked his hair one more time. Then he grabbed his notes and headed back to the dorm to collect Blaise. The two made their way out the door and stared. The ceremony was obviously taking place on the front lawn because a raised dais was set up with several chairs along the back and a podium in the front. Directly below the podium was a long, low table covered in photographs of the late Death Eaters. There were lots of photographs. And facing the table and podium were nearly five hundred chairs.

"We're not going to need all of those chairs," said Blaise. "Not that many people are sad that they're gone. No offense you, of course."

"It's fine," said Draco. He walked beside his friend on crutches in case he fell, but Blaise seemed to have gotten the hang of the crutches, and he was even able to put some weight on his injured leg.

"Pomfrey says I can use a cane tomorrow," said Blaise, smiling. "I am so ready to ditch these things. Are you going to sit with me and mother?"

"If you want me to," said Draco as they reached the lawn. People were already seated and milling about. From what Draco could see they were all relatives of the Death Eaters.

"Of course we want you to," said Blaise, but then Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, approached the pair.

"Ah, there you are Draco. How are you dear boy?" he asked, beaming down at him.

"I am well, Minister. And yourself?"

"Oh, you know, busy, but I must say that this is a welcome sight," he gestured to the lawn. "The fall of You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters." He seemed to savor the words before he realized who he was speaking to. "Of course, no offense meant to you and your family."

"Of course not," said Draco, his words saturated in sarcasm that made his words smooth and chilly.

"Yes, well your father's body will be returned to you. Seems that Harry Potter insisted that you should be able to bury him where you will, and not have the body be buried at Azkaban with the rest of them. And as he is responsible for the death of You-Know-Who, I can hardly refuse him, now can I?"

Draco deemed it a rhetorical question and didn't bother answering.

"And speaking of Harry Potter, you will be sitting with him and a few select others on the dais, so if you will make your way to your seat, the sooner you get up there, the sooner people will come and sit and the sooner we can get this over with. No offense, of course."

Draco shot a glare at him that was deadlier than Lucius', but the Minister was already moving off.

"Well, since you are obviously to important to sit with the common folk, I beg my leave of you," said Blaise, giving him a mock bow.

"Sod off, Zabini," said Draco, giving him a slight smile and an even slighter shove. Blaise walked off to find his mother, his easy grin on his lips.

Draco looked up at the portable stage and stifled a grimace. He walked over to the steps on the sides and slowly ascended them like a man condemned. To his surprise, Sev was sitting in one of the chairs as well, a scowl on his face.

"You here too, Sev?" he asked, surprised.

"Only on the Headmaster's request," said Snape icily, shooting a glare at the man beside him that surpassed any of Draco's menacing stares. He would have to work on that. Dumbledore, in the chair next to his Potions Master, looked over and smiled.

"Now, now, Severus, the entire staff is seated up here. It wouldn't be proper for you to be absent."

"I highly doubt that anyone would miss me, and it would make for such nicer photos if I was not present."

"Posh," Dumbledore scoffed. "Do act your age, I already exempted you from making any speeches."

"He doesn't have to make a speech?" Draco asked. "Why do I have to?"

"Because you are not capable of making, how did you put it Albus, 'The very best cup of hot chocolate since Paracelsus himself'. And you did not mention the fact that making a speech would forever cease your ability to create the brew," said Sev.

Draco stared at him. "That's unfair, it's blackmail!"

"I'm a Slytherin," said Snape, shrugging.

"So am I," said Draco.

"Then you should have thought of it," said Sev.

Draco gave him a disgusted look and moved past the teachers to find a chair, hearing Dumbledore's laughter follow him.

Potter was sitting next to McGonagall and Draco sat in the empty chair on the other side of him.

"Fudge told me that my father's body would be sent to my house," said Draco, by way of greeting.

"Oh?" asked Harry in an innocent tone.

"Yeah, thanks Potter."

He could feel the black haired boy's eyes on him, but he looked resolutely out on the crowd.

"You're welcome," said Harry finally. And they lapsed into silence.

At precisely ten o'clock, Fudge took the podium and raised his arms for silence. The small crown gathered there took their seats and stared up at the Minister, who cast a magnifying charm on his throat so that his next words carried over the crowd.

"Thank you for your attendance at today's ceremony which will be held in place of a funeral for those in the allegiance of You-Know-Who," said the Minister grandly, as if the mere thought of having a ceremony for such wizards was a great and undeserving act of kindness. He pulled out a few notes, cleared his throat, and began to speak again. Draco recognized the beginning of a typical wizarding funeral.

"Death has always been a result of life, there can not be one without the other. Just as a candle brings light when it is lit, it also creates a shadow. Life, when it is lived, ends in the darkness of death. So let us then strive to make our life as bright as possible so that when our flame has been extinguished, the afterglow may still remain in memory of our deeds."

Draco stopped listening. The funeral speech was completely inappropriate and uncomfortable to listen to. And it would only get worse because soon Fudge would be asking them all to reflect on the afterglow of the deceased and there was no glow, only a big, black stain. He searched the crowd that was dutifully staring at the podium, and easily picked out the Weasleys with their bright red hair that stood out in stark contrast to the black robes. He found his eyes traveling to the Weaselette, and if sensing his stare, she looked up, met his gaze, and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the Minister. His lips twitched upwards in response and she smiled then returned her attention to Fudge. Draco did as well since Fudge had finished and was now saying something else.

"-now we will here from Harry Potter."

There was a small spattering of applause from those who were not relatives of the dead, and Harry let out a nervous breath and stood up. Fudge shook his hand and Harry stepped to the podium. He also charmed his throat and was about to speak when a loud ruckus caused everyone to turn to the back of the seats where a procession was now arriving. Wizards and witches in brightly colored robes made there way down to the front rows and filed in, all around those in dark garb, laughing and talking loudly although the expressions on their faces were ones of vengeance, loathing and triumphant sneers. Draco could pick up some of their shouted comments.

"Dead and they deserve much worse!"

"This should be a party, not a funeral!"

"Good riddance, the lot of them. I'm glad they're dead."

"You can say that again!"

"This is the happiest day of my life."

"This should be a celebration that they're dead!"

They finally quieted down, still smiling the malicious smiles and not paying attention at all to whatever Harry was saying. Draco missed the entire speech as well; it was impossible to concentrate because the newcomers were randomly bursting into cheering or setting off fireworks with their wands. The fireworks usually took the form of a torn, bleeding Death Eaters mask. The Aurors that were positioned around the group for protection against any escaped Death Eaters from coming back for revenge were doing nothing to help and just laughed along with the rest.

Harry finished whatever it was he was saying and then stepped away. Fudge took his place.

"And now we will hear from Draco Malfoy," he called above the noise. There were boos and an outbreak of the fireworks.

"Good luck," Harry whispered to him as he stood. Draco didn't respond. He performed his own 'sonorous' and took his place behind the podium. He gazed out at the crowd which was still setting of sparks and cheering one another on. He pulled out his wand and brought it down in a large, sharp motion. There was a BANG and a flash of light. The crowd screamed and ducked; the Aurors had there wands out in an instant, all aimed at him.

"Good morning," said Draco coolly. "At this time I would ask all of you who have not come to listen to the ceremony to please leave." He stared at them all, his eyes boring through each member in turn. "It is rather funny," he said, and laughed his cold, mirthless laugh. "I grew up with a Death Eater for a father, I saw him torturing Muggles and killing Muggles. I heard him come home, bragging about all the mudbloods he had hurt and murdered, and I decided that I didn't want any part of it. So what did I do? I betrayed my family, I became a traitor to the Dark Lord who promised me riches, fame, and power, and I threw in my lot with Dumbledore and Potter. I saved their bloody lives and I killed my own father. Why? Because I thought that you, that all of you, were better. You were on the light side, you were supposed to be good! I wasn't expecting that you come to this ceremony and cry for your enemies, but I wasn't expecting this." He gestured to the brightly colored clothes and the bleeding Death Eaters mask still in the air. "I expected this from the Death Eaters, this is why I left, because when you can laugh at death and destruction and pain, you become like them!" He pointed at the table of photos. "You become exactly like them. Oh, and look, you even have your own Dark Mark, how nice." He gazed at the bleeding mask, until its owner banished it away, cheeks flaming red.

"I didn't come here to mourn their deaths," he continued quietly. "But I didn't come here to revel in that fact either. I didn't come here to mourn the fact that they lived, but I sure as hell didn't come here to celebrate their lives. Rather, I came to mourn the choices they made that brought all of this pain, all of this destruction, and all of this death. I came to mourn the fact that these people were reduced to nothing more than monsters. I suppose I can mourn for all of you now as well." He paused then continued. "I never thought of myself as a naive child, I've seen things that would make the lot of you sick to your stomachs, but I thought that you would be different, I thought that you were good." He shook his head. "Maybe I was just fooling myself, maybe I've just exchanged one group of Death Eaters for another. Maybe," he finished in a whisper.

He stepped back and took the charm off of his voice, then walked off the dais, across the lawn and into the school. He didn't stop until he was in his office, and then he collapsed into his chair and worked until he had no more letters to send or people to call. He then pulled out his school books and studied straight through dinner, only coming out to patrol the campsite and the school halls which were strangely subdued and empty. Granger tried to talk to him, but every time she opened her mouth, he turned away. She got the point fairly quickly.

Once he was finished, he went straight back to his office and sent off a few more letters, and reviewed a few more chapters, until exhaustion claimed him.

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One more chapter of back story, it kinda makes me sad, but the other stuff is going to be lots of fun as well. Keep reading and reviewing!