It made Draco uncomfortable to think about having to attend a meeting of the prefect team… He knew that the other prefects thought it was a huge error of judgement on McGonagall's part, for choosing him to be head boy… He couldn't understand why; the past six years he had spent aligning himself with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters – he had detested everything that Harry Potter and Dumbledore had stood for. His allegiance to the pureblood cause had been instilled in him from the day that he was born… and now, the ground underneath his feet had been shifted monumentally. He had decided to come back to Hogwarts mainly because he didn't want to be on his own in the Manor; he couldn't bear the thought of spending most of his time alone, confined within the gates of his house awaiting the confirmation of what he knew was going to happen to his parents. They were going to be charged with war crimes and with possession of dark artefacts, and they would go through a period of rehabilitation in a facility, but he had no idea how long that would take. This was a new system which had been implemented by Kingsley Shacklebolt as the new minister for magic, as an emphasis to take away from imprisoning people – except under extreme circumstances – and moving towards enabling those who had committed a crime to move back into the community.

For the time being, Draco's parents were being held before being tried and sentenced, this was the case for the majority of the ex-Death Eaters that were still alive. He had expected that he would be arrested along with his parents, he hadn't anticipated the aurors saying: "You were just a child; you had very little choice about what you were doing."

Draco had been dumbfounded at that response, and watched as his parents were taken away and him left behind… That was wrong. It still felt wrong – he had done things, things equal to what his parents had done – or so he thought – both before and after he turned seventeen. He should be being held along with them; he should be being tried for war crimes too…

Whenever he thought about it his stomach churned inside him; he could hardly bear the thought of his father anymore – the knowledge of realising that his father had been responsible for the death of at least two wizards, been involved in the injury of several muggles and wizards alike… Draco had never realised just how deeply involved his father had actually been, despite him boasting about being the Dark Lord's right hand man – Draco knew that all of the Death Eaters had made that claim… Draco had always taken that statement with a pinch of salt; his father was tough – but he hadn't credited him as capable of murder… At this moment, Draco didn't want to see his father, and if, by some chance, he got off with the charges Draco wasn't quite sure how he would react. He just didn't want to be associated with that anymore… and he knew being back at school hadn't helped that. He could feel eyes on him wherever he went, boring into him; the intensity of their stares was so potent that he felt as though it was burning his skin – their judgement. The students didn't even bother to keep their voices down as they pointed, whispering about that Draco Malfoy. How could he blame them? He had always been subversive, he had always been on the wrong side… and he couldn't expect three months and a little bit of time away from the school to make people think any different. He wished he could go back and re-write history; he didn't want to be Draco Malfoy anymore… Draco Malfoy was a liar, a cheat, a bigot, a Death Eater. And Draco Malfoy was lost…

It had started during the War… the awareness that this was wrong, that he wasn't even being viewed as a person – just a number. He was nothing, he meant nothing. He had experienced something like this feeling before, in his sixth year, when he had been tasked with killing Dumbledore, but it had never been this strong… It was like a hand had plunged its way down his throat and was gripping his heart with an iron vice, the very essence of who he was as a person had been ripped out and stamped on… The person, the soul of what made him who he was, was gone – and all that was left was the empty shell…

There was an ever present hole inside him, that had begun just underneath his breast bone and radiated throughout the rest of his body, consuming him and filling him up with blackness which constantly plagued him, neverendingly reminding him about what he had been a part of; and what he had done.

And that was where the alcohol came in. Her just wanted time where he didn't have to remember; where ever second another batch of memory wasn't pressing into his skull and branding itself into every waking moment of his life… At first one drink had been enough to relax how he felt inside, like an uncoiling of a knot inside him; two drinks and he began to get drowsy, but that had been in July… Now it was September and one drink barely even touched the sides… It was no issue for Draco to get through two-thirds, to three-quarters of a bottle in one night now. The temporary relief it provided was worth it though… He would do anything for the chance just to forget, to not be worrying about his parents; or what the other students at school thought about him; or whether his parents were going to be set free without charge… It was all too much to think about for one person, and drinking freed him for just long enough to get to sleep… He had thought that it would be difficult for him to get any alcohol into the school, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy to get it into Hogwarts… The security had clearly gone down, not every parcel was being checked on its way in, and all he needed to do was send an owl to the outside world and they would send a package of firewhisky in… He was over seventeen; it wasn't really like they could prohibit it… He didn't even think that anyone – barring those who were in his dormitory – would even know that he had it… But he had to be careful. If it became too obvious what his evening pastime was, then it wouldn't be too long until a teacher found out – and that would spell real trouble, and would more than likely result in him being sent away from Hogwarts, and he wasn't sure he wanted that to happen… But it had all been worth it so far. The relief was worth it, even though everyday brought a reminder: his brain was pounding from as soon as he gained consciousness in the morning, so by midday it had developed into a rhythmically thumping headache so bad that it eclipsed everything else. The thought of food in the morning was enough to make his stomach turn, by the Thursday of the first week Draco had given up on going to meals in the Great Hall. He was constantly exhausted, the eyes of others and his mind weighing down heavily in him; even after a few drinks sleep was not easy to fall into.

By the Monday of the second week, Draco was so exhausted and so hungover that he couldn't even open his eyes… He could hear all the other boys in the dormitory getting up and leaving for breakfast while he lay in his bed, which felt like it was pitching and swaying underneath him. He could miss one class… That wouldn't cause any problems, not really anyway… He could catch up on a bit of sleep and be in time for morning break; however, the next time Draco opened his eyes it was 14:17. He had slept through all the morning and part of the afternoon classes, there wasn't much point of him going to the last class of the day so he remained in the dormitory, with the curtains of his four poster drawn to hide him from the view of anyone coming in.

That was only one day, surely no one would have even noticed his absence… but he knew he couldn't constantly miss days.

In spite of his self-reminder that he mustn't allow any sign of dissolve, or untoward behaviour, or he would attract attention to himself, of the kind he didn't want, the same thing happened on Tuesday. It was Wednesday before he returned to classes, he was quite sure that no one would have even noticed that he had been missing. It was after potions that Hermione Granger caught up with him and arranged the prefect meeting for Saturday evening… and that was where he was now: worrying about the meeting, where he knew he would be shunned to the point of being ignored. He didn't know whether being ignored would feel better… would complete ignorance of his existence make him feel better than being pointed at and whispered about? He didn't know, and a small part of him knew that he wouldn't be able to experience that disassociation for a time yet. He wouldn't fade into the background in two weeks… even though that was what he desperately wanted; to disappear entirely.

By Friday lunchtime, Draco had gone over every possible eventuality for what could happen at the prefect team meeting, and he had decided it would be best if he didn't go… He would just stay away, and that wouldn't complicate matters. Then at the end of Friday's classes he put his hand in the pocket of his robe and pulled out a folded sheaf of parchment – that he was sure hadn't been there earlier on. Flicking it open, he read:

'Draco, I thought I'd let you know that I managed to get the charms classroom at 6 on Saturday evening so we can all discuss what we're going to do for the rest of the year.

Hope to see you there, Hermione.'

Draco stared at the note for a few seconds; he couldn't recall the note being slipped into his pocket… She must have done it when he hadn't been paying attention.

But he had already made up his mind up, he wasn't going to the meeting; yet the words that Hermione had signed the note with stuck out to him: 'Hope to see you there.' She was expecting him to turn up; it wasn't like she couldn't cope without him there though… She would do perfectly fine on her own. It was just a tiny thought that was niggling into him, he really should go – even if it was just to hide in the corner and listen to what everyone else said. He would wait and see what he felt like tomorrow, then he would make decisions.

Draco had already realised that Saturdays were going to be very lonely for him at Hogwarts; none of his friends – if they even were that anymore – had returned to school so he didn't have anyone to spend the time with. He ended up sitting alone in the Slytherin common room, attempting to complete homework that they had been set during the week, while groups of chatting students encircled him. More often than not he found himself staring blankly at the work he was supposed to be doing, rather than actually doing it. He just couldn't get his brain into gear, maybe that was just because he didn't particularly want to do any work; he was thinking about the note, and the prefect meeting scheduled for later on that day… He couldn't bring himself to make a decision, he thought he already had – but now he was doubting it.

By half past five, when all the rest of the students had gone down to dinner, Draco had decided that he was going to the meeting, just to show his face. His gut might disagree with him, but his head knew what he had to do to stay at Hogwarts.

A/N: Thank you for reading so far! I hope you're enjoying the story so far - I'd love to know what you think of this chapter! :)
Also - I'm at a conference for the next week, so I'm going to have limited internet access, but I'll try and get on to post the next couple of chapters - I'll do my best! :)