Everything is J.K. Rowlings. I only claim the plot. Everything else is hers, all the characters and the magic, all of it. Please let me know what you think though, I encourage feedback of all kinds, just be nice about it!

So, Draco was really difficult to write because he has so many conflicting emotions and he doesn't like dealing with them. This also took me a long time to write, coming to it when I got the time off shift. I tried to read through it enough and edit it so that it flows, but my apologies if it doesn't. Anyway, here is my attempt. I'll probably try him again after more progress has been made. But for now, he is still processing and not very well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bloody Saint Potter! The words sped through Draco's mind as he glanced about the darkened streets of Knockturn Alley.

Those three words had been repeated many times throughout the past eight years. Before the words had been fueled by hatred and jealousy, now they were fueled by bitterness and grudging respect. Potter had saved the world and was still trying to save it. Not only that but he had deemed Draco and his friends worthy of saving too. Which was something that not even Draco could have supported. He was a marked man, not worthy of saving. But Bloody Saint Potter and all his goodness had insisted upon it.

Now he was set up in a nice house, his mother was safe, his friends were safe, and he was being given the chance to make a new name for himself. It was a gift he didn't deserve. And he was grateful. And the fact that his gratitude had to be directed at Potter caused a bitter, sour, taste in his mouth.

And maybe the worst of it all, the two now drank together every night with Tracey. Well, for a couple days Potter hadn't been allowed due to the medicine but as soon as the potions stopped the man was back in the kitchens nightly drinking the pain away, going even heavier.

Draco didn't like having such a similarity to the Boy Wonder. It twisted his gut painfully to know that despite the heroic goodness the man oozed, Potter was troubled too and probably more than everyone else. It ruined all former ways of thought. Goodness shouldn't be broken. It was goodness; it couldn't be tainted or shattered. Draco quickly realized how wrong he was, good people were the most damaged.

As much as Draco had raged against the Gryffindor in school, Draco had never pictured Potter as being anything less than annoyingly bloody saintlike, no matter what came at him. No matter what happened, Potter would save the day. Potter with his all-righteous goodness would right all the wrongs. Potter would defeat the Dark Lord and save Draco from his disastrous fate. Potter had been infallible. It had been one of the large motivators in mercilessly bullying him. Draco hated himself for putting all his hopes onto Potter to rescue the world and had hated Potter because of it.

Now, the knowledge of how damaged the shiny, untouchable hero really was shattered the image into shards of glass.

"Thanks for meeting with us," Potter was saying to his Weasel Auror, the damn bloody prat, as the two clapped each other on the back.

"No problem mate. Glad to help." The freckled face gave the two Slytherins the barest hint of a nod and Draco almost sneered. His life was indebted to bloody Gryffindors. Blaise stood beside him, silently watching the exchange and the surrounding area. His dark Italian friend was tense and alert, as was Draco.

Due to the attack on Potter and his muggle cousin, the fear of leaving the Manor was heightened. Weasel had volunteered to accompany them for extra help if the worse came to worse. It helped that he had his Auror-in-Training weight to add.

"Plus it gets me out of the house," the Weasel continued looking slightly ashamed.

Potter gave an understanding, sympathetic nod. "Tell your mom we'll be there for Sunday dinner."

"Brilliant mate, she hasn't stopped ranting about it. Especially since this is the last one before Ginny goes back to Hogwarts."

"I know we've been missing out on it. But with everything that's been happening it never seemed like a good time. But we'll be there. Me, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Hannah, and Patronus, of course," the savior add with a fond look at the black mound of fur sitting dutifully at his side. Seeing the dog so alert and protective, and knowing of its magical enhancements, Draco would be lying if he said he didn't feel slightly safer with the mutt with them.

Potter had politely invited the Slytherins to the Sunday dinner as well but all of them had declined. Dining in the Weasel's house would just be pushing far too many boundaries.

So the four former rivals now stood in Knockturn Alley to scout out dilapidated buildings for his and Blaise's new shopfronts. The thought of a Malfoy being a shop owner caused him both shame and pride. It was an odd feeling and one he doubted would leave anytime soon.

"This sounds fascinating, really, but do you think we could look at these properties sooner rather than later. You can discuss your social lives over tea later," Draco griped sourly, casting another glance around the alley. He felt like everyone was staring, and they probably were. Not that there were many people around to stare, to begin with.

Draco had shrunk down within himself after the war. He did not hunch or slouch, however. A Malfoy would never do such a thing and avoid the eyes of the people. A Malfoy did, however, hold self-preservation at the highest regard and so in the name of self-preservation, holding oneself in a smaller stature in order to be missed by hostile gazes was fully appropriate. And Draco had been doing so since the final battle.

Weasel sneered and Potter gave a disappointed glare but Blaise spoke up before either of them could. "We do have appointments to keep. And given the attack, the faster we are out from prying eyes, the better."

"Fine, let's just go," Potter gave a weary sigh, glancing at his watch. Draco caught the mumbled words of 'Dudley', 'paperwork' and 'needing a drink' but didn't bother pushing the issue. Pulling a scrap of parchment out of his pocket, Draco internally cringed at the wrinkled state of it as Potter squinted to read whatever he had written. "First place is just over here," the savior finally said and walked off with the other three trailing behind, all tense with wands drawn.

The first place was rather dingy looking with an overhang that looked ready to collapse at the next gust of wind. The former name was faded and Draco couldn't make out the words. Casting another glance over his shoulder, he entered the building and wrinkled his nose at the foul smell. It was sour and decaying and rotten. The four of them all cast as many freshening spells as they could and it only barely helped.

"Well?" Weasel asked impatiently, his face still twisted tightly against the stench.

"Nope, not for me," Blaise answered and Draco gave a quick nod in agreement. Luckily, the place really wasn't what he needed at the first glance so they didn't have to remain for long.

The second and third also were not what they needed and had varying ranges of disgusting odor. Draco hadn't realized how many ways he could torture and affront his own sense of smell but this outing was accomplishing the feat.

By the fourth building, the group had either become accustomed to the horrendous smells or this one was lacking in the stench department. Whatever the case, Blaise and Draco actually began looking around the area. Picturing what they wanted for their shops while Potter, the dog, and Weasel stood alert by the front and back doors.

This process was repeated for the next two buildings until Blaise found the one he wanted. It was very dusty and had a second floor and a basement. The main floor and front room was very spacious with a rather small backroom that led to the top floor and basement.

"This is it," Blaise declared with such confidence that the rest had no room to doubt him.

"Great! I'll write Nadrig that this is the one. What vaults had you chosen to use again?"

"The Carrows," Blaise answered, his eyes taking in the dusty room. Potter nodded and jotted that down on the crinkled piece of parchment.

"Make a list of all of the furniture and supplies you'll need to set this place up," the bespectacled man ordered.

"So what are you gonna do to this place?" Weasel questioned. Draco glanced at the redhead and noticed that there wasn't really any malice behind the question. While it was said with a sneer, blatant curiosity was the obvious motivator.

Blaise spared the man a glance before turning back to his future shop. "I suppose you'll just have to arrive on the Grand Opening and see."

Weasel scowled but didn't press. "Right, so just one more shop to find," Potter said, the words had the attempt at cheer but fell terribly flat.

Silently the four left the room again and stalked closer to the next one, Blaise and Weasel watching their backs while Draco and Potter guarded their fronts. It was unnerving how easily the four fell into such protective stances and doing so wordlessly, almost companionably, with each other was something Draco didn't feel like thinking on.

It was three buildings later that Draco found his future shop. It held the main floor and a basement. The main floor was siphoned in half by a wall and Draco happily began picturing storing all of the supplies in the backroom. While piling shelving into the main entrance room holding potion supplies and potions for purchase. The basement was quite large, wider than the main floor anyway. And it would be here that Draco would brew his potions. He would contact St. Mungo's soon and let them know of his discounted potions that he was willing to sell and supply them with. He also needed to find a way of contacting the local werewolf population.

Astoria had supplied him with the idea of providing free Wolfsbane to the werewolves. The Avery Vaults that he was using had more than enough to supply the potion for free at least fifty werewolves each month for the next seven years. Also, he had been working on the potion itself, trying to make it better and more cost affordable.

Sighing inwardly, Draco knew he had to talk to Potter about reaching the werewolves. Brushing that aside, for now, he focused on the building. The basement had the faint smell of mildew and he knew he would need to fully clean out the area. The main level was mainly just dusty, with broken windows and some broken floorboards. All easily fixed. And he was sure that his mother would leap at the chance to help decorate and organize everything.

"This is it," he said into the silence of the room. Yes, he would rebuild the Malfoy name in this very shop. He felt rather dizzy at the prospect.

"Great. So, I'll talk to Nadrig and Kingsley when I meet with them tomorrow. And you should be able to start cleaning out and setting up within a week," Potter said, shoving the parchment back into his pocket.

"Right, so let's get out of here," Weasel said as they left the shop. "I don't have a go-" Whatever he was about to say got lost under the sudden onslaught of spells hurled at them.

Dropping to the ground quickly to avoid being hit. Draco rolled and leaped back to his feet, firing off all the legal spells he knew. He had been trained to be rather creative with his spells and some of the ones his Aunt had taught him were coming into play now. It made him sick to use anything that witch had taught him but Draco wasn't going to stand by and let people attack him without a proper fight.

Hearing the dog barking loudly as a few bricks exploded off the building to his right. He couldn't tell how many attackers there were but the spells were coming from all directions. The four men formed a tight circle as they fought off the unknown together. Draco saw the dog disappear, chasing off after a jet of light that had been aimed at Potter.

His nerves were buzzing and the adrenaline was pumping through his veins and the blood pounded in his ears. Cursing when his arm got hit, Draco switched hands and began firing with his left. It was a skill his dear Auntie Bella had drilled him in. Holding his shield up at a rapid-fire onslaught, Draco saw a white shimmering jet of light soaring off from the direction of Weasel and Potter out of the corner of his eye but the spell didn't go to the attackers but out of the alley completely.

Ducking from a sickly yellow spell, Draco brushed thoughts of that aside. The group of four were split at some point by some well-placed spells that they all had to dodge. In the mess of the dust, rubble, and magic, Draco found himself next to Potter, who was cursing in a very un-Golden Boy manner.

Unable to help himself, and feeling more alive and exhilarated than he could remember, Draco smirked. "Scared, Potter?"

"You wish."

Draco could practically hear the cocky smirk as the two turned to be back to back, facing off against their attackers. Ducking, firing, weaving, and casting, Draco hated to admit it but they worked well together. So luckily he didn't admit it. And would refuse to that night when he replayed this fight in his head.

The spells coming at them were lessening and so Draco felt confident that they were evening the odds. It was at this time, about ten minutes into the fight that a handful of Aurors showed up. The red-robed defenders apparated into the outskirts of the fight and at the sight of them, the attackers fled the scene. Three of the Aurors gave chase while the other two approached Draco and the others.

"Auror-in-Training Weasley, smart thinking sending us an alert Patronus. We are sorry we couldn't have gotten here sooner," a gruff looking man with a grizzled face said.

Weasel gave a respectful nod. Apparently, the redhead had paired up with Blaise during the fight since both stood near each other a couple feet away from where he and Potter were. "We are just glad you were able to get here, sir. Hopefully, the ones behind this will be caught."

"Indeed," the gruff man said. He cast his hard brown eyes over Draco, Blaise, and Potter, lingering on Potter and Draco before turning back to Weasel. "It was probably a mere skirmish that you were unfortunate to get caught in the middle of."

"That was no skirmish. We were the targets," Draco growled out, glaring at the Auror. The look of disgust wasn't even concealed as the gruff man turned to face him once more.

It was at that moment that the dog trotted back up to the group looking rather dusty but unharmed. In its mouth was a red Death Eater mask. The dog dropped the mask at Potters' feet. If dogs could look smug, then this dog definitely looked smug.

"Oh, look at that. A red Death Eater mask. Funny, it's just like the mask that the people who attacked my cousin and me were wearing. What are the odds of the attackers wearing this in a mere skirmish? Think you need this for more evidence, sir?" Potter asked with just enough cheek, his eyes dark and bitter.

The gruff man grunted and snatched the mask from Boy Wonders' hands, the dog growled lowly. "Return to the office for a debrief, Weasley. The rest of you will give your statements to Auror Fields and then you are free to go. Any injuries and Auror Fields can fix you up." The man then left the group.

"I'll try to swing by later today or tomorrow. If not, I'll see you Sunday, mate," Weasel said to Potter who nodded.

"Thanks for today," Potter replied, patting his friends back while the redhead gave goodbye nods to Draco and Blaise before catching up with his boss.

Eyes turned to Auror Fields who gave a tired smile and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Any immediate injuries?"

"Just my arm," Draco said, gesturing to his right arm that was now soaked in his own blood.

"The rest of us just have some scratches," Potter added.

The woman nodded and cast a quick spell to stop the blood flow and to stitch the skin back on Draco's arm. "Right, so in your own words, what happened?"

"We were leaving the store and were just about to head back to the Manor when spells were fired at us from all directions. I don't know how many there were but I'm pretty sure we got a good couple of them. Ron sent off his Patronus to alert you guys within the first minute or so. We'd been fighting for ten minutes when you all showed up," Potter summed up.

"Anything to add?" Auror Fields asked, glancing at Blaise and Draco. They shook their heads. Draco still felt uneasy when dealing with Aurors. "Great. Well, I'll take this back to the office and you lot can head home." The woman gave a nod to them before going to join her fellow Aurors.

"Let's get out of here," Potter said, bending to grab the dog's collar. Blaise apparated without further comment and Draco was quick behind him. Landing gracefully, as was befitting a Malfoy, on the grassy hill just outside the Manor's wards Draco saw Blaise already there and heard the pop of Potter joining them. The dog gave a bark at the discomfort of the magical travel and as soon as Potter let go of its collar it was running off towards the Manor.

The three men walked silently towards the manor but there was something nagging at Draco that he felt he had to voice. "Why are the Aurors so against the thought of these being targeted attacks by a Death Eater resurgence group?" Blaise and Potter glanced at him with eyebrows raised. "Well, first the Aurors block Potter from learning more about the investigation, which shouldn't be allowed. And now, they dismissed the thought of the same group attacking us. Are they trying to hide something?"

"Not sure," Potter admitted, facing ahead once more and continuing to walk, Draco and Blaise falling into step just behind him. "But I have a feeling that a separate, more private, investigation needs to be started." Draco didn't know what to say to that and neither did Blaise it seemed, so the three went silent.

The three entered the manor to see the majority of the residents in the lobby, scattered about the colored chairs and sofas. "What happened?" Tracey declared taking in the sight of their dirtied appearances and torn clothes.

"The red masks," Potter sighed wearily. The room fell silent as the group processed this.

"What happened?" Longbottom questioned seriously, his face was hard and Draco recalled his short time at Hogwarts last year, witnessing the change in the Gryffindor. It had been a surprise that Draco had not expected. His girlfriend sat perched beside him and Draco fought to withhold the wince that looking at her always brought. Just thinking of those damn Carrows and what they did...it always made him sick. So Draco averted his eyes from the couple. Longbottom had his grudging respect though, dealing with all that shit last year, leading the rebellion and now dealing with such a baggage-heavy girlfriend was impressive.

The muggle cousin sat next to Tracey. The muggle was able to move about now but under strict orders of Patil in how much movement he could participate in. Tracey seemed rather attached to the muggle though so he would have to question her about that. What was her motive? Did she even have one? Was she really enjoying a muggles presence? Draco had nothing against muggles or muggleborns now. Too much had happened for him to still stick to those archaic beliefs. Hell, he even planned on using Potters' cousin to help him alter some potions to sell to muggleborn and half-blood family members. He just couldn't picture himself being so chummy with one though.

Granger was there, but Draco could barely stand to look at the bushy-haired witch without picturing her screaming on the floor of his Manor with his aunt cursing her. So Draco avoided looking at her too. Luna was also someone he tried to avoid. The flighty blonde had been trapped in his dungeon for months, he had fed her more times than not. And though he tried to avoid her, the Ravenclaw never seemed to let him. She was annoyingly persistent.

That marked three of the people in this house that Draco steadily tried to avoid looking at or talking to. He just couldn't. What could he say? Too much had happened to simply ignore. He was a large cause for their pain after all, even if it was indirectly.

Goyle was absent, as was Theo, Patil, and Pansy. The Greengrass sisters were there and something warm touched his chest when Astoria looked at him with concern in her eyes. Draco, of course, brushed it aside, it wasn't right. He couldn't taint her too. He refused.

Leaving Potter to give the explanation of the days' events, since that seemed to be who everyone was looking at to explain. The savior had had numerous occasions to become adept at retelling battles and near-death experiences after all. Draco left the group for his room. It was easier to avoid people if he didn't have to be in the same room as them. Meals were hard enough.

Changing into clean, casual clothes after rinsing off the dust and sweat from the fight, Draco collapsed his bed. His wonderfully comfortable bed that Saint Potter was nice enough to provide him with. Growling, Draco punched a pillow. He hated his conflicting, tumultuous emotions. Everything had been so much easier years ago. He had been a naive student. Following his father's orders and directions. Loudly hating everything that wasn't pure and Slytherin while secretly hiding his fears and his hope in Potter. He had known who he was about back then, even if half of it was privately and most securely hidden. It made him even more bitter and depressed to think of then and now. Because now he could finally embrace what he had hidden inside but he knew he wouldn't be accepted for it. It was safer to still hide.

A knock on the door broke his thoughts, but Draco ignored it. Another knock, and still, Draco ignored it. The person just opened the door after the third time they were ignored. Whirling to face the intruder with some nasty insults and hexes for not respecting his privacy, Draco faltered at seeing Astoria. He couldn't ever harm her, verbally or otherwise. Defeated, he sat back on his bed, watching her petite frame claim one of his comfy chairs.

"So, how was everything before the attack?" she questioned, her head tilted and her eyes inviting.

Draco felt a twitch of a smile at her sweetness. "I found my shop," he whispered. He had almost forgotten in the chaos of the events that had followed.

"You did! Oh, Draco, that's marvelous!" The young girl rushed him with a hug and Draco stiffened slightly before wrapping his arms around her to return the gesture. He refused to admit that he didn't let go after it was appropriate and he refused to admit why.

Astoria did break the connection though and just as easily claimed her seat back, leaving Draco feeling cold at the loss of her warmth. "Tell me all about it. Describe it to me." Her eagerness was something he could not refuse. So he told her. Describing each room and what he planned for it all.

"You know how you mentioned the Wolfsbane Potion?" She gave a nod. "Well, I'm going to do it. But I also had another idea on top of that, St. Mungo's and the apothecary."

"Oh, enough of the suspense. Tell me," she giggled. Her eyes wide and listening intently. Her focus was just on him. It made Draco feel like preening under her precious gaze.

"Well, you know how Patil and I modified some pain reliever for Potter's cousin? Well, it got me thinking about doing that for more potions. Making more of them muggle friendly." He saw her eyes widen even more and ducked his head. Stupid, of course, he chastised himself. Of course, she wouldn't approve. Not that her approval mattered, he cautioned himself.

"I think that is a brilliant idea and if anyone can do it, you can," she praised him. Warmth spreading through him once again, Draco denied the flush on his cheeks.

"Well, I was thinking it could help the muggleborns and the half-bloods who have muggle family members, or the magical families with squibs. It would allow them to receive similar care and treatment. Not all potions but the basic ones like Pepper-Up, Calming Drought, the Pain Relief, and maybe even Blood Replenishing. Not all muggles could have it obviously, it would be hard to explain without breaking the Statute of Secrecy, but those with magical relatives could benefit."

Astoria's eyes sparkled excitedly and Draco felt glad that he had told her his plans. "So you'll be needing to talk to Potter's cousin than to use him as a tester I assume?" Draco nodded and watched as the young girls brows furrowed in calculating thought. "Well, Blaise will be recruiting him as well to test out some of his products and maybe even explain some of the more modern muggle intricacies. I heard them discussing gaming systems the other day but I didn't quite understand them. My guess is the man will be here for quite awhile at least, so you shouldn't have a problem recruiting him too."

Draco raised a surprised eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"

She gave him a fond, exasperated look. It was a look he wanted to remember forever because it was directed at him and made him feel normal. "Well, it's rather obvious. Potter and his cousin seem to be reforming some failed bond of their childhood. Tracey and the bloke seem to have gotten quite close and the muggle is rather besotted with Tracey too. I'm not sure if it is mutual yet though. Plus, Blaise will be requiring his assistance, and now you too. And to top it off, we do have the extra room. So if he doesn't become a permanent resident, he will at least be over quite a lot." Draco blinked at her reasoning. He supposed this is what he missed when he holed himself up in his room and the potions lab all the time. "Of course, you have to talk to Potter about his approval of you using his cousin as a guinea pig. And the muggle has to approve too, of course." She tapped her lips thoughtfully as she pondered the approvals needed. Draco just stared at her lips though.

There was a time when they had been betrothed. Well, it hadn't been official but their fathers had been in close talks about it during Draco's Fourth and Fifth Year. But then the Dark Lord had upped his plans and talks of marriage had been side tabled. Secretly, Draco had been thrilled at the possibility at marrying the youngest Greengrass, she had always been able to get him to open up, even as children. And while in school his feelings had definitely been more on the crush side of frienship. That ship had sailed now, she wouldn't want him as a partner after everything he had done. Didn't mean he still couldn't wish for it though, he thought idly as he continued staring at her beautiful pink lips and lovely flushed cheeks. He pictured running his fingers through her dark hair and wondering what her lips tasted like

Her cheer broke through his inappropriate train of thought. "Oh! You must let me help decorate!"

"You'll be at school though while I set up," he reminded her. He hated the pang he felt in his chest at remembering she would be leaving in just a weeks time.

Astoria deflated at that reminder and frowned again. "Well, I'll just have to dictate to you my advice through letters and you'll have to send me constant pictures of its progress," she determined finally.

"Well, if you insist," he sighed, attempting to sound rather burdened by this request but knew that it failed at her grin. "How are you feeling about school, anyway?"

Astoria took her bottom lip between her teeth in thought and Draco found himself becoming highly distracted once again. Maybe it was safer for the younger girl to be tucked away at Hogwarts, away from him, he thought. "I'm rather nervous actually," she admitted and Draco forced himself to focus on her words. "I mean, after everything that happened last year? I don't know how I can go back and just expect it to not matter or to affect how everything is done. And I know Slytherin house is going to be even more ostracized after everything." Draco frowned at this thought. Their house had gotten such a terrible reputation, not all of it unjustified, but still it hurt to realize how much everyone else despised them. "But at least I'll have Luna with me," Astoria continued and Draco winced at the mention of the flighty blonde. Thankfully, Astoria didn't press. "I do wish the rest of you all were coming back, but if it is going to be hard for me, I can only imagine how much worse it would be for you all."

"What are you taking your NEWTs in?" he asked, altering the subject slightly. She had done well enough in her exams the other week to take whichever NEWT classes she desired.

"Charms and Transfiguration, definitely. I'm also thinking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I've debated taking Herbology but I'd rather just have a small flower garden then deal with all those plants on a daily basis." Draco snorted in amusement and agreement at that but kept the comment about a flower garden tucked in the back of his mind.

Falling into an easy chatter that had Draco feeling more relaxed than he could remember, they ended their talk to follow the other residents down for dinner. His mother had returned from her 'sister excursion' as she had taken to naming them and so she sat delicately beside him. She gave him a glance and Draco gave a nod, he would explain everything after dinner.

The meal was quiet, some idle chatter occasionally but no arguments and no tension. It was an impressive change from the beginning of the summer. Draco found he enjoyed the easy silence that the group fell into. It allowed him to focus on his food and not be tempted to look at the people he tried to avoid. It didn't stop him from observing his fellow Slytherins though.

Greg was just as quiet as he had always been but the silence was more profound now with the loss of Vincent. Draco was sure his new fear of fire would never fade. And if he thought right, he guessed Greg had the same fear of the hot flames too. The two had never talked much, Greg and Vincent had always been his father's appointed bodyguards. But he knew that Greg was a rather gentle soul and the war crimes he had committed had tarnished that. He wasn't sure how bad it was but Draco was glad his former classmate was able to direct his gentle nature towards an orphanage, it was really the best place for the bigger man.

Just like in Hogwarts, Theo stuck to the library. So it wasn't surprising the friendship that blossomed between him and the Gryffindor bookworm. Draco bet that his friend wanted more than friendship but was playing his cards and biding his time just like any Slytherin would. Theo had been active at the persistence of Nott Sr. but had always been able to distance himself in a way that Draco had never managed. It was enviable, truly.

Pansy was just a shrill and sharp as ever but her pristine persona was cracked and Draco saw her despair and sadness whenever he looked into her eyes. She and Potter were in another battle of wits at the moment, Draco knew his old friend felt enlivened by the sparring matches though she vehemently denied it whenever Tracey or Daphne pressed it. Draco felt that she deserved the small respite, even if it was in the form of arguing and biting remarks. It was purely Pansy after all. Draco had tried to shield his friend from the harsher horrors of war, as he had tried to do for Daphne, Tracey, and Astoria too, but they had suffered just as he had last year. And he desperately wished that hadn't been the case.

Tracey seemed to fair better than the others though, she had been able to fall back into the crowds and hadn't been an active participant in most of last year, for which Draco was glad. She was bouncing back rather well. He was worried about Daphne though. She appeared just as put together as ever but he remembered last year when he was at the school and knew it had only gotten worse when he left. He was worried about her but they had never been close enough for her to allow him access to her Ice Queen persona. Not many did have access. Tracey did, Astoria did, Pansy sometimes did. And recently it seemed Potter did too. Draco had no idea what was up with those two but he knew he wasn't the only one who noticed the glances that both of them gave each other when the other wasn't looking. Draco just hoped that for Daphne's sake, she played it safe. And Boy Wonder was never the safe choice.

"Tell me, what happened, dear," his mother said, getting straight to the point as they settled in her room. It was a light blue color theme but his mothers added decorations made the room seem far more opulent then any guest room should. That was his mother though, he supposed. He was grateful that she had been saved at the end of the war, that she hadn't been tossed to Azkaban. Another reason to be indebted to Bloody Saint Potter, Draco sighed inwardly.

Settling himself on the couch next to his mother, he allowed her to brush her fingers through his shortened hair knowing how much it soothed his mother to do so. "We were attacked. It was a group in red Death Eater masks, just like the ones who attacked Potter and his cousin. Blaise had found his shop first. And it's actually pretty near where I found mine. You'll have to help me decorate it of course. Astoria has already decided to help as well." His mother smiled fondly and he could see her mind starting to go through possible apothecary decoration designs in her head. "And we were just leaving my shop when we were attacked. I don't know how many there were or how many got away but we fought for at least ten minutes before the Aurors arrived. Weasley had the sense to send a Patronus for back-up. Once the Aurors arrived, the attackers left. I got hit in the arm but that was the most serious it got."

His mother was silent for a moment. "Well, at least you have your new shop. When can we start cleaning it up and decorating?" Draco almost smirked. His mother had never dwelled on the past. What had happened, happened. No need to focus on it. He believed it helped her cope with everything that had happened to her by being married to a passionate Death Eater. He remembered walking in to find her crying the day after he had been Marked. He knew she had never wanted it for him but he had been too cowardly to stop it. He had still wanted his fathers' approval after all.

"Next week. Potter is meeting with Minister Shacklebolt and the goblin tomorrow. And that should settle all the details. I'm hoping it happens before Astoria heads to Hogwarts though, she really wants to see it."

His mother leaned forward to press a light kiss on his forehead. "Oh, my sweet boy." Draco wanted to ask where that even came from but decided it was probably just his mother being sentimental or something. Brushing it off, they chatted a bit more before Draco headed for bed. He had had a trying day after all.

Climbing into bed, Draco wondered how many hours he would get that night. He lay awake staring up at the ceiling. His mind replaying the attack today, his new shop, and the memories from the past year. The Fiendfyre that ransacked the Room of Requirement and took Vincent. Standing on the Astronomy Tower trying to force himself to kill Dumbledore for his parents' lives. Having that maniac living in the same house has him. Witnessing all of the tortures and killings at Death Eater meetings. Watching his fellow students collapse under the wands pointed at them in classes. The day he took the Mark.

He regretted it while he got it and he regretted it now. Didn't matter though because it still tarnished his skin. He recalled a night last year when he had taken a blade to the Mark. It had been one of his lower points, he had just witnessed a particularly bloody torture and he just wanted out. It was the day he had stopped caring. So after draining a bottle of Firewhiskey, he had taken a razor and sliced. The pain had been near unbearable even with the alcohol diffusing his nerves. The Mark had fought against the cut by making him feel like he was inwardly burning. But Draco had persisted. And when he awoke the next morning, there wasn't a mark on his arm aside from the Mark itself. But his arm was resting in a pool of blood so Draco knew he hadn't dreamed it. It was then that he discovered he couldn't just cut the Mark out. The Mark wouldn't allow itself to be sliced or damaged. That knowledge had broken Draco even more.

He did his best not to look at his left arm after that day.

After restless tossing and turning to no avail, Draco left his room to meet with Potter and Tracey. Tracey was there first and Potter arrived shortly after Draco did. They all looked vulnerable and broken, as though the alcohol alone would fill in the gaps of their souls. It was only during these nighttime moments, that Draco could see that while his fellow Slytherin was bouncing back quicker than most, she was still struggling with her own demons. Draco didn't look at Potter as they each took their first shot. And then their second. And then their third.

Tonight wasn't a time for whispered confessions. Each was lost in their own thoughts. Draco lost in his past and his failed choices. He didn't want to know what Potter was losing himself in. The pain and suffering that shone in those haunted eyes pierced his very being. The same feelings of bitterness and resentment and gratitude and respect surged forward and Draco was tempted to drain the whole bottle once again.

Fully numb to every emotion and sensation now, after three hours of drinking, Draco stumbled into his room. He was glad no one was able to see the slip in Malfoy grace. It was all Potters' fault of course. All the good and all the bad. Draco knew it was rather unfair, but he didn't care. Potter was the closest he could blame and Draco had already wasted his energy blaming himself. So it was Potters' turn. Bloody Saint Potter.