Chapter I

Sharp patterns of frost had formed on the window of the compartment and the blonde boy sat alone. His two best friends; rather…cronies, had been dismissed from the school in their sixth year for excessive hexing of some first-year Hufflepuff boys. He would have to spend his final year of school alone, his life devoid of all light, much as it had always been. But having someone to simply be with you was comforting, and now he had nothing. Sighing, he idly drew figures on the foggy window. Names began to emerge among the shapes, and he shuddered as he realized what he had written. The title of He-who-must-not-be-named glared in his face, above which was written then name of the boy who lived. Angrily he wiped both of them away, but a shadow remained of each. Shivering, he felt as though those shadows reflected their souls that still remained after their death. The Dark Lord had been defeated by young Harry Potter, an infuriating boy who, for all his prowess, had remained humble and without conceit until his untimely death. Draco scribbled on a bit of parchment with a muggle pen; a tool he actually found quite useful. Harry had killed Voldemort, the death eaters had hunted Harry down and…well the details were not privy. He had been emotionless in public, snickered with his friends, and sobbed in the prefect's bathroom. Even the mermaid had been silent as he shed his unmanly tears of grief into the foaming water. Even his former lover could not bring him from the hole he had shrunk into when Harry died. Nothing affected him anymore, and even though he had never…pursued his desires it still had drained him of all feeling. The more he thought about it, the further he pondered his plight. Only love dead, father in Azkaban, sure to never see the light of day again, mother a pale waif, and a legacy to carry on that no one needed. All the death eaters had been imprisoned, leaving many Slytherin students without parents. Parentless, loveless, lifeless…the last of the Malfoy line. And he couldn't even carry on his father's name with love. Suddenly he grabbed his bag and threw it with all his strength against the opposite wall of his compartment and listened to pots of ink shatter, the black liquid soaking the leather through, like his own black blood which with he wanted to paint out all that was left of his 'life'. He felt tears trickling down his cheeks and put his face in his hands, sitting back in the seat. Suddenly he heard the door of the compartment slide open, and he looked up to see a no longer bright-eyed Hermione Granger. Roughly, Draco wiped at his eyes and turned away. He hadn't the strength to be evil.

"Draco? M…may I talk to you?"

"If you must, Granger."

"It…it's about…"

"Harry."

"Yes." She sat down and looked at the beautiful young man. High cheekbones made the hollows in his cheeks more pronounced, and his grey-blue eyes had darkened considerably over the summer.

"I don't know where to begin…"

"I loved him as much as you and Ron, you know? But he never knew."

"He did. He…he wanted me to tell you."

"He could never have loved me, Hermione. He hated me."

"He loved you, Draco! Every night he sat in the common room trying to do homework, but only ever did your face emerge on his paper."

Malfoy looked at the pretty girl. Sincerity was in her eyes, and he found himself nodding.

"I still have them, if you would like to see them."

"I would."

She nodded.

"Also some letters he wrote you, but never sent."

Draco was silent, and quietly she stood up to leave.

"I'll give them to you once we get to school, all right?"

"Yes. Thank you Hermione."

"Goodbye Draco."

Gently she slid the door closed, and Malfoy closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. Harry, love him? Impossible. But stranger things had happened…

"Malfoy! Watch your cauldron!"

Draco snapped to reality in potions to see that purple liquid was spilling over the sides of his cauldron. Swiftly he cleared the mess and waited for Snape's wrath.

"What are you thinking, you little fool? Class dismissed, except Mr. Malfoy."

The Ravenclaws and Slytherins packed their bags and slowly shuffled out of the room, leaving Draco with his ruined potion and absent mind.

"Into my office."

His feet felt like lead as he walked into the room, stuffy with heat and the scent of wood.

"Sit down, Draco."

Severus Snape's voice was uncharacteristically gentle.

"What's gotten into you, boy?"

"Too much." Draco said quietly, his shoulders dropping. Snape walked to him and put a hand on his shoulder, pushing aside his normally frigid nature.

"There are a number of things it could be, Draco. Which is bothering you the most?"

"I suppose…last year."

Snape nodded and sat down in the chair next to him.

"Which death?"

"The one that should not have been. It…it wasn't…right. They had no right…" his voice cracked and Draco's face was twisted with pain and tears.

Snape realized again how much he was reminded of Lucius, and put his arms around the young man. Draco clung to the man's thick cloak; his father's best friend; his godfather.

"Voldemort deserved to die. I've always wanted him dead, Severus. But Harry…he wasn't supposed to die. He needs to be alive. My father needs to be at home, and my mother needs to be well again, bitching about my attitude."

"I know, Draco. It hurts all of us, but we all deal with it in different ways."

"This summer Mum and I went to Azkaban to visit him, and he didn't even recognize me! His hair is stringy and unkempt, his eyes and cheeks are sunken in. He's so thin…his robes hang off him like forgotten laundry. His eyes have turned grey and he glances around as though waiting for hands to reach out and grab him. He's not….my father anymore. I don't know who he is, Severus. But I don't want to become that."

"With the way you look, you're on your way."

Draco wiped the tears off his cheeks and shivered.

"I miss Harry."

"We all do, Draco."

"I never told him, though. Nothing ever happened. He died and now there's nothing."

Severus nodded, and said nothing, even though he wanted to. Orders from Dumbledore were not to be disobeyed.

"Professor McGonagall is good as Headmistress, but she's no Dumbledore. Why did he have to die as well? Everything has gone so wrong…it was supposed to get better after Voldemort was killed!"

"Things have gotten better, Draco. But not everything can go the way we want it to."

Draco was silent, and a new wave of tears poured over his face. This time he just allowed Snape to hold him like he would a child. Severus was reminded of the birth of this blonde-haired angel who was now suffocating from the lack of hope in his life. The tiny, delicate imp he'd held in his arms amid the smiles of the proud parents. The friendly touch of his once-cherished lover, now simply good friend and father of the beautiful child.

Sighing, Draco pulled away from the man he loved and trusted as an openly caring father. Something he'd never received from the man who'd fathered him.

"Go back to your room, Draco. I'll write your teachers and let them know you weren't feeling well."

Draco nodded but did not smile, letting Severus run a hand over his hair and kiss the top of his head.

"See you tomorrow."

The boy got up and gathered his books, leaving the classroom and going up to his room. Collapsing on his bed, he took out the drawings Hermione had given him. Gazing at them for as long as he could, he was careful not to let his tears fall on the yellowing parchment.