In truth, the senior Auror Granger should not be here, in the psychological support group for victims of all kinds of terrorist attacks. In truth, Draco Malfoy was of little interest, he generally showed much more interest in a cup of his long-cooled coffee than in the stories of Muggles, who, to his surprise, also turned out to be war veterans.
Malfoy felt strange. No, he knew, of course, that his unexpected friendship with Potter, with whom, by coincidence, he served together in Auror Department, and his wild passion for American TV shows would not lead to good, but he could not imagine that everything would turn out to be so bad.
How long has it been since the Battle of Hogwarts? Two years? Three? His memory tensed: for some time he suffered from memory loss and carefully concealed this unfortunate fact from everyone; the years were rapidly approaching the mark: of "four". Four years. Forty-eight months flew by like one day without end. He had long been living on a whim, and as he guessed, many of his new friends lived like that. The Survivor Syndrome, it seems, was the name of the overwhelming sense of guilt, misunderstanding, nightmares, and attempts to establish a life in the post-war world. He thought that's what they called it in the TV shows Potter got him hooked on.
Potter... But once, just think, almost twelve years ago, Malfoy held out his hand to him, standing in the middle of the staggering Hogwarts Express, and really hoped that he would return the handshake! If only his father could see him now! But Draco's father had not seen anyone anymore. No matter how Draco tried, armed with the support of the very same Potter, to justify his father in court, the Wizengamot was adamant. And the antidote for the kiss of the Dementor has yet to be invented. Draco visited Lucius a couple of times a month, obtaining permission to place the former Lord Malfoy in St. Mungo's Asylum, but every time he hurried out of his father's room as soon as possible. Malfoy had no strength to look at Lucius, staring lifelessly at the ceiling and not reacting to anything.
The godfather, however, assured Draco that he was looking for a way to help his old friend. They say, even the Dementors were not able to completely take the soul out of a person, especially from such a strong wizard as Lucius Malfoy was. Draco left his godfather's assurances unanswered. It's enough that Snape took Narcissa Malfoy, after she was acquitted in court, and drove off to live with her in Santorini. The Order of Merlin Second Class brought a good reward, the old Britannia no longer needed either double spies or gray cardinals, and Snape decided to start living. As for Draco's mother, she spent about two years under Imperio, and this could not but affect her state of mind. So, in fact, that was how she was acquitted.
This did not negate the fact that Draco was raging wild, quite teenage jealousy. Snape was his godfather, after all! He taught him so much, sometimes he understood him much better than his father, and he took the Unbreakable Vow for his sake! But his mother was with Snape now... Depression or not, Snape's Potions talents or something else, Malfoy was foul. Why was Snape acquitted and his father destroyed? And all the annoying arguments that his inner voice whispered to him did not help here.
His own life, that of him, that of Potter, flew to hell. What was Potter saying during the last drinking party on Friday night? That the younger Weasley drove away with the Harpies to the next tournament, having previously packed up and tossed an engagement ring in Potter's face? No, that's right, what kind of idiot gets married at seventeen? Just Potter, his dead parents, and the whole Weasley family of idiots. Malfoy knew how to choose his friends, there's nothing to say here!
Whatever it was, he liked talking to Potter. He did not ask stupid questions, he always had something to eat in his fridge and he had Muggle beer, he sat up nights over reports and he was the first to rush to field practice - to finish off the unfinished Death Eaters, and he shielded Malfoy in front of the immortal Alastor Moody. Who, it turns out, was also the unfinished one. The potions of the same godfather performed a miracle this time around, Moody lived. Although the old goat took a long time to recover. Just in time for the newly minted buddies to graduate from Auror Department...
Draco crushed his empty coffee cup, tossed it into the bin with a well-aimed throw, and went to the machine to get another one. He had little understanding of what was going on around him on a Friday night on the outskirts of London at the classes of the support group, but here, in any case, no one stood over him and one could calmly think. With his current pace of life, this was rarely possible. And there was something to think about. For example, that he, like a fool, also got married right after school. After the Battle. And after justification before the court.
Astoria Greengrass was no better or worse than Ginny Weasley. Pity, they say, the poor boy with the Dark Mark. Malfoy winced, many women liked to pity him these days, and he cursed through clenched teeth. Along with the excuse, it turned out that not all of the Malfoys' accounts had been seized, and even some private property in France remained, including vineyards in Provence and a house on the coast of Italy. Many Death Eaters could not boast of such wealth. Here was when Astoria took pity on him. And he didn't care, as long as he mattered again to at least someone other than his mother and godfather. And to Potter, damn him! The wedding was played quietly, the newspapermen were fooled, and Draco and Astoria moved to France and began to live. They tried to, anyway.
Draco did not believe that the Malfoy family was cursed with sterility. But when for the third time in a year and a half he trembled over Astoria and swore at what the world was worth, it became clear that this could no longer continue. And then she yelled in his face that she didn't need his money, not him, and he could go to his damned Auror's Department and to his damned England, and she personally asked for a divorce. She was tired of losing her own children and seeing her own husband slipping deeper and deeper into the world of his own nightmares.
Reasons for divorce could not have been more painful and banal. But Draco did not want to understand anything anymore, he signed the necessary papers and knocked on Potter's door in the middle of the night. The Grimmauld Mansion had for some time become their common bachelor's lair. No matter what Granger said, it was easier for men to get drunk and forget about everything. They could not simply get up and go shopping in Diagon Alley, really. Let Granger have so much fun with Loony Lovegood. Meanwhile, the half-witted Lovegood turned out to be smarter than all of them ... And Malfoy, even to himself, called her now only by her first name.
Almost four years flew by like this: in battles with oneself, in field practice, in Friday drinking parties, in nightmares, in the loss of meaning, and in search of oneself. That's how he ended up at the support group meeting that Potter pushed him into, when even he got tired of seeing Malfoy roam the Grimmauld Mansion at night like a ghost, gobbling up Sirius' supply of the best Ogden's. Potter had seen this kind of behavior in his own godfather before, and as far as he remembered, he had ended badly.
Malfoy drank his coffee, looked around, and tried not to notice how the senior Auror Granger cast sidelong glances at him, and even stared at point-blank range. And what was she up to? She should rather listen to the stories of survivors in Iraq and Afghanistan! Draco involuntarily listened, and he felt ashamed and scared.