The feeling of comfort that drew from finally seeing his mother grew more and more distant from his heart and mind as he headed upstairs, further and further away from her, as he followed the familiar trip to his bedroom. He couldn't shake the feeling of somebody standing behind him, following him through the empty hallways of the house, waiting until he turned around to hex him. To torture him, to murder him. He breath became more and more shallow as he felt the presence of the person behind him getting closer and closer to him, until he jumped at the sensation of a breath on the back of his neck. He yelped, jumping out of his skin. In an instant he drew his wand and pointed it behind him. As he looked behind him he felt the figure move behind him again, and he turned back around again. He slowly backed up to the wall nearest him, frantically turning his head in all directions, until his back hit the wall and he dropped his trunk next to him. He didn't hear it hit the ground.

He couldn't breathe, something was blocking his airway and it felt like he was being choked, and he broke down, silently sobbing and wanting to shrink from existence, needing to hide in hands and cry, yet being too terrified to stop watching his surroundings, not wanting to be caught off guard. He needed to stay on guard.

His breath came in shallow, quick gulps and it never quite reached his lungs that way it should. His wand was shaking in his hand as his body convulsed in panic, unable to shake the feeling of a wand being held to the back of his head, even though the only thing behind him was the wall of the corridor. He couldn't see through his tears, and his eyes stung. Somebody else was there, he was in danger and it was driving him crazy. He wasn't safe. His entire body was covered in sweat, and he couldn't stop hyperventilating as his body slowly slid to the floor, leaning against the wall behind him still.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die.

A sudden crack next to him caused him to finally hide his head in his hands, his fingers grasping his blonde hair in fear, he retreated far into himself, his heart pounding so hard he didn't hear the gentle voice next to him sounding out,

"Master Malfoy?"

He sobbed, head tucking further into his huddled body, his entire being trembling with panic, there were Death Eaters surrounding him, they all escaped Azkaban, and they were back to claim the manor for themselves once again…

"Master Malfoy!"

He heard them talking, even saying the name "Malfoy." He wasn't crazy, he wasn't crazy. He was not crazy. They were going to dispose of him and take everything, they were going to hurt his mother. He couldn't even defend her. He was a failure…

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he felt an unnatural calm swim through his body, calming the trembling and easing his breath, the swelling inside his throat slowly resigning itself.

"Master Malfoy…" a high-pitched voice gently called out, finally registered by the blonde huddled against the wall, as the creature used subtle magic to calm their master. Draco slowly looked up, and saw to his left, Ceely the house elf standing beside him. He groaned and closed his eyes in relief, wiping the remaining tears away.

"Master Malfoy, do you feel better?"

He looked down the hallway to his right, and behind Ceely to his left, there were no Death Eaters there like he had been convinced of. He still felt the Ceely's calming magic helping him,

"C-Ceely," Draco said quietly, his voice pathetic and raspy from crying, "Yes, yes a bit."

"Shall I escort you to your bedroom, master?"

Draco took another deep breath, feeling even more panic leaving his system, his head clearing up, "Yes."

"I'll get your trunk," Ceely commented, waiting for Draco to be ready to stand back up and travel the remaining route to his bedroom. They walked side by side to Draco's room, no more words spoken between them.

Ceely helped Malfoy recover in his bedroom, helping him unpack and get himself comfortable. He asked her for a glass of firewhiskey and she gladly delivered. Before she left she placed a powerful charm around his bedroom that nothing but the three of them could pass through. If anyone else tried Ceely would be notified immediately and be there to protect him. She did this without him asking, she just understood it would help Malfoy feel safer at night.

He slowly drank the firewhiskey as he read a book he took from the library, on the advanced potion making they were focusing on in Slughorn's class. Between Ceely's charm and the firewhiskey, he felt considerably calmer. However, he was finding it more and more difficult to focus on the book in front of him and more on the interaction he had with Potter in their dormitory. He found himself smiling at the exchange and was glad they were able to hold a conversation without a fight breaking out. It didn't seem like Potter held the same hard feelings the rest of the student body had. Maybe it was from when visited here, back when he had control of the manor. He quickly shook this thought, it wasn't good for his psyche. He needed to stay calm for the night.

He thought of doing something he's wanted to since he talked with Luna. He decided to try, if he didn't like it he didn't need to send it. He just needed to get his thoughts out on paper. He stayed awake for the next few hours writing…

The next day, Draco sat with his mother in the potions room of the manor, mostly enjoying each other's company. His mother was brewing dreamless draught, as their supplies were getting low. Malfoy occasionally assisted her, and he was the better potion-maker of the two of them. However, unless she asked for his assistance he sat back and read the same book he began the next before.

He waited for her to finish bottling the potions she brewed before clearly his throat, desperately trying to swallow the nerves he built up about conversation he was going to initiate. This is part of his goal for this week, was to open himself up to his mother. Something he never really got the chance to do in a long time. He knew she wanted him to, yet also wouldn't push him to either.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Well, I was hoping to talk to you about something. It's just, it goes against everything I've ever been taught and I wanted to know where you stand on it now. So much has changed and—"

"What is it you want to ask me, darling?" His mother sat down on a chair across the small table he was sitting at, and she waited patiently. She must've been able to see this meant a lot to her son.

"Well, it's kind of about continuing the family name. About the way to do it. The way I've always been told I have to do it." His heart raced, and he wanted to run away. But that old, harden way his father disciplined him growing up kept him in his seat, ironically. "About how you and father always told me marrying a pureblood and having pureblood children is the number one priority. That blood purity is always number one." When he spoke it out loud now, it made him sick to himself. He wanted to leave it all behind. He didn't want to be known as that type of wizard anymore, and so much of that depended on how his mother answered.

She did not speak for a minute, quietly thinking about what her son was saying. It was meant to be a question. He wanted to know how she felt about these values after the war. After all that happened to them. After what the chase for blood purity for the wizarding world had left their family with. Pulled them apart, tore them down, and left them out to dry with no one to care for them. An embarrassment and black-listed from the world.

She stood up, and walked over the nearest window, contemplating her answer carefully. She gazed out into the back gardens she helped care for the past few months. Something she was never supposed to do back when Lucius was here. He thought she was above labor such as that. She sighed,

"There's a fair amount Lucius and I no longer see eye to eye on." The silence following was heavy, and her breathe shook before she continued, "Where it all led us. Everything we worked towards. There's no better evidence proving its failure. I know you see that, Draco."

Draco nodded, swallowing. His heart continued racing, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. If father could hear here speak like this…

But there was a reason he no longer could.

"You haven't visited him since the trials. I have, and when I do we just enjoy each other's company. No longer do we speak of the future, he asks how you are doing. But no dreams of what your future will be. He understands that whatever the future is for you, he is no longer part of it. But he does not regret it, how he raised you. The values he instilled in you. He still believes in it all, the blood purity and the traditional ways. But he is no longer part of our future."

Draco was shocked. He couldn't believe the words he was hearing, and he stared at his mother. She looked away from the window and back at him. She saw her son, who was here with her, looking for her approval to break away from everything he was taught. She could choose the old ways, the ways that have been left to rot in Azkaban or accept the new ones and build a new future for her son.

She smiled at him, the fine wrinkles under her eyes showing through, "I am so glad you are here with me, Dragon. All I ask for is for you to be happy and content, and to be able to choose for yourself." She walked back to the table to sit back down, looking directly in her son's eyes. She could see him growing up quickly, thinking about his life ahead of him

Draco spoke quietly, suddenly not feeling as afraid, "So if I have children and they aren't pureblood…you approve of that?"

"I suppose so, yes. I've been in touch with my sister, Andromeda. I've invited her and her grandson over for Christmas. Her daughter, Nymphadora, who was your cousin, had a child with somebody who is not pureblood before she died in the war. While it is difficult for me to push past all the traditional ways that have always been pushed into me throughout my life, I can see hope in life without them. Talking to her through letters has helped me see that."

Once again, Draco was shocked. He knew of his Aunt Andromeda but was always told not to bring her up with mother. That they didn't get along and that she was a sore subject. He pushed forward carefully,

"There's something I've wanted to tell you for a while, but only recently came to terms with myself. I, uhm—" the nerves struck back, causing his stomach to curl, "What if I told you that if I have children, they would not be with a woman." He ended it in a statement more than a question, and he felt his being suspended on the edge in anticipation of fear.

Once again quiet for a moment, Narcissa looked at her son, viewing him carefully. Seeing the fear in his eyes broke her heart. "All I ask for is that he would treat you well and raise my grandchild with as much care as I myself would, Dragon. If that is what makes you happy, then I support it.

Draco couldn't contain the smile. It was so much relief, and the weight dropped off his shoulders. Before he could control himself, he found the emotion swimming in his eyes and his smile broke even wider. It was the acceptance he never knew he needed so badly. Seeing his mother smile back and grab his hand from across the table pushed the first tear over the edge, and it was both embarrassing and freeing,

The part of him that was raised by his father scolded him, showing emotion like this was not the Malfoy way and should be suppressed behind closed doors. It was not strong.

But it was also why it was freeing. It was the first time he truly felt like his father was no longer there, and it was yet another thing he didn't know he needed to feel. Lucius Malfoy no longer had control over the household, him and his mother were free to do as they pleased.

They ended up embracing again, Draco unable to stop his tears. He finally felt free in his own home. While being there was still difficult for him, the trauma still living within him, it made him feel hopeful for the future.

Harry Potter sat staring at the Transfiguration textbook before him, attempting to focus on researching for the essay which was due at the end of the break. Hermione insisted that he and Ron should get a head start on the subject, claiming it was a difficult subject. That, and she demanded she wouldn't help them edit it the night before it was due unless they researched it now. The three of them sat at the table in the library, books piled high and a few of them open in front of them.

It was too bad Harry couldn't focus on the subject of human transfiguration, his mind was revolving around the short conversation he held with Draco Malfoy. While short, he felt it held a ton of information. Information that he considered much more important than his over-break essay. Information confirming that Malfoy was powerful.

Harry looked around the library, no one was close enough to hear their conversation. He wasn't sure why he didn't want anyone to hear what he was about to bring up, it just somehow felt private. He didn't want anyone else to know.

"Malfoy and I talked," Harry spoke blankly, not bothering to gain his friends' attention to begin with.

Hermione and Ron both looked up at him in surprise, Hermione's eyebrows raised.

"Blimey, at this point I thought the git had lost his voice during the war. Was glad for it. What venom is he spitting now?" Ron teased, yet clearly interested.

Harry snorted slightly at Ron's comment, unable to hold back a snicker—Hermione exasperatingly commenting, "Ronald! I'm sure Malfoy didn't bother bullying Harry."

Harry spoke, a smirk still on his face, "While when I went upstairs to grab this book," he indicated the book laying on the table in front of him, "Malfoy looked like he was all packed to leave, trunk and everything. I asked him where he was going."

"And?" Hermione was obviously curious, gears turning in her head, "What did he say? He isn't dropping out, is he?"

"I honestly expected him to curse me out for being in his business. Turns out he left for winter break today."

Ron shook his head, voicing the same question Harry had for Malfoy in the moment, "What about the Hogwarts Express? Is he not taking it to King's Cross tomorrow?"

Harry shook his head, beginning to speak with his hands in his emotion, "That's the thing you guys, he said he was apparating home today with McGonagall's permission from outside the charms protecting the castle."

Ron was speechless, face clearly taking the information in, as Hermione claimed in amazement, "From here to Wiltshire?"

Harry nodded.

"It takes a powerful wizard to apparate so far away safely, I doubt Malfoy would put himself in danger when he could've just taken the train. McGonagall gave him approval, and I can say the same for her. I didn't realize Malfoy was so—" Hermione's voice traced away, unable to find the word she was looking for.

"Capable?" Ron joked, unable to pass the opportunity. Hermione shot Ron a look, causing him to laugh, "Relax, 'Mione. It's difficult not to treat Malfoy like the pushover he is anymore, its habit. Gotta admit it's odd without him making comments towards us this year. Have no one good to pick a fight with anymore!"

"If I was a bit more daring I'd say it sounds like you miss it, Ronald." Hermione joked as she went back to the textbook in front of her, a smile growing on her face in victory as Ron shrugged,

"Wonder if his oh so great father going to prison for good finally shut the git up. It's a wonder him and his mother aren't sharing a cell with him."

Harry swallowed, feeling his heart tighten a bit. He wasn't sure why he never told his best friends that he went to the Malfoy's and his mother's hearing, defending their innocence and fighting for their freedom. He knew why he had done it, he felt in debt to Narcissa Malfoy. He felt guilty for Malfoy to get dragged into the war, the same way he himself had. The light might not have been able to win the war if she hadn't helped him out. And surely if she was proven innocent, her son had to be as well.

Yeah sure, Malfoy was attempting to kill Dumbledore for a whole school year, but Harry couldn't forget that night at the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy clearly did not want to do the deed. As uncomfortable as it made Harry, Malfoy didn't identify him to the Death Eaters back when they were taken to Malfoy Manor. He had to have known it was him.

Harry admitted that he wanted to ask Malfoy about it, he wanted to know what he saw during the war. Between what Harry saw and heard about, Malfoy Manor was Voldemort's hideout and the Death Eaters met there as well. Living there could not have been pleasant for him and his mother. He wondered the sorts of stuff he had seen. Yes, Harry had plenty he wanted to ask Malfoy about.

Not that Malfoy had any reason to tell him about any of it.

He knew that the blonde was enduring a fair amount of bullying from the Hogwarts student body, and maybe that was the reason he wasn't lashing out and him and his friends anymore. Part of Harry found it satisfying, as if karma was finally kicking him in the arse and he was getting a piece of his own medicine.

But a larger part of him hated the bullying about the war. About the decisions he knew Malfoy was forced to make, he understood what it was like not to have a choice. Hell, he was never chosen to become a part of that prophecy, just as Malfoy didn't have a choice of the family he was born into it. He hadn't told his friends too much, but he heard Malfoy the night Dumbledore died. Voldemort was threatening not only him but his family as well. He didn't have a choice.

"—Harry? Oh man he's doing it again…" Ron shook his head as he looked down in disappointment.

Being brought out of his thoughts by Ron saying his name, his eyes widened before he snapped up, asking, "What? What am I doing?"

"That thing. That thing you do when you daydream about Malfoy. I'd recognize that look anywhere."

His jaw dropped, and he felt his face head up in embarrassment, "What do you mean by that?"

Hermione chuckled, "Guess some things never change, do they Ronald?"

"H-hey! What are you talking about?" Harry exclaimed quietly, not understanding what it was his friends were on about.

Hermione just smiled, and looked back down at the book in front of her, "Oh nothing, let's just get back to this essay…"

Shaking his head, he decided to ignore his friends and get back to his thoughts. They all led him to one thing.

I need to talk to Malfoy.