Chapter Three:

Hermione had decided after spending the rest of that day at Hogwarts to go to The Burrow. Thankfully Harry and Ron didn't ask too many questions- they assumed she had just gone home because, well, anything else would be ridiculously out of character. Plus they were far too hungover even days after the party.

"Hermione could you not turn the pages so loudly?" Ron whined as he put an arm over his eyes dramatically.

He was trying to block out as much sunlight as possible while laying outstretched on his bed. Harry was sitting on his bed leaning on the wall behind him. He was very quiet. By the blank expression on his face it was obvious he felt like absolute shit. Ginny was laying on her stomach at the end of the bed by Harry's feet.

The redhead giggled and teased, "Ron you are such a baby."

"Shhhh inside voices," Harry whispered nudging her with his foot, expression unchanged and eyes unfocused.

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked over at Hermione, "Wanna go hang out in the garden? It's a gorgeous sunny day and its our last few days before school starts."

Hermione said nothing but nodded and scooped up her books she was reading. She liked to be a bit ahead when classes started up again. Ginny was right. It was pointless to be cooped up in a small dark room when they had the chance to be outdoors. It was plenty dim and claustrophobic in Hogwarts over the winter months and now was the time to take advantage of the Weasley's beautiful garden. Once down in the garden and nestled cozily on a lawn chair Hermione felt herself relax again as she pulled out her Defense Against the Dark Arts course book and flipped to the page she had left off on.

Why do we even need this class anymore? she thought, but would never dare speak ill of a learning opportunity, I mean seriously, I feel pretty well mastered in my defense skills after Dumbledores Army and destroying horcruxes all last year. Not to mention fighting off dozens of Death Eaters on the battlefield during the Final Battle. I could damn near teach this class. But she sighed inwardly and kept reading. And then she noticed it. Ginny was drawing- something she had a real talent for- and slowly eyeing her every couple of minutes. She'd stare at her, pensive, and go back to drawing.

"What?" Hermione shut her book after the 3rd noticed glance at her.

"Nothing…" Ginny said in a childlike tone.

"Ginny…" she warned.

"Ugh fine!" the 17 year old was easily convinced, she had obviously wanted to talk about it. "Where did you go when you left the party?"

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and turned to face her. She had such a ear for gossip. Ginny told her everything- interesting or not- about everyone and all the goings-on of castle life. Hermione wasn't particularly interested in it but being in the know about things made it much easier to avoid certain social situations and she was certainly grateful for that. Back to the subject at hand- what the hell was she going to tell her? She couldn't trust Ginny with the truth. She loved her friend dearly but the DID have one hell of a mouth. With no consideration to even pretend to have a filter.

"I went home. I was tired… And bored. You know how much I hate parties," she flat out lied to her closest girl friend.

Oh my god she fumed internally Look at what being exposed to Malfoy for a night has done to me! I'm lying to one of my oldest and best friends!

And…

Draco Malfoy had all but completely forgotten about that night. Part of him had willed it- in the day after. But by the next it didn't take any effort to push those thoughts away. He was grossed out at the faint memory. And there he was, at home, his doting and ever-concerned mother. His father was still in Azkaban but awaiting his release. It would only be a couple more months before they were all together again. And just in time for Christmas. He didn't hate his parents like people would assume he would. After all, they were the ones who got him involved on the losing side of… well… society. He wanted to. He had wanted to hate them for involving him, encouraging him to pursue in the obvious atrocities that took place in the underbelly of the wizarding world. He wanted to hate them for making him a social pariah of his peers. He wanted to hate them for supporting his bad decisions. But he couldn't. Because that's exactly what they were: supportive. Sure, perhaps they wouldn't win any parenting awards, but then again they were never good about giving Draco tough love, either.

They were the type of people one would chose to surround themselves with. Some people had shitty families and amazing friends. Draco had the opposite. Shitty friends and an amazing family. No matter what his decision was- they supported him 100%. Of course they always gave their input and questioned him as to why he was making certain decisions, but if his mind was made up- even if they didn't exactly agree with his decision or rationalization of it- they had his back. Always. And yet even, though it was never vocalized, he was expected of certain things. He had an obligation to uphold. He knew what would make his parents proud and what would disappoint them. His choice to get the Dark Mark, for instance; he hadn't exactly wanted it, and his parents cautioned him on getting it unless he was serious. But when he told them about how his mind was made up and that he wanted it the extreme pride they exuded of him wanting to join the big kids table and be an avid part in the security of their livelihood was unmistakenable. Just because they had made a mistake in their alliance with the Death Eaters and Dark Lord doesn't mean they didn't do it for admiral purposes. Just because they chose wrong didn't mean they didn't want what was best for their family. And just because they made an error in judgement as to who would come out on top didn't mean they didn't love him.

I mean seriously, he had thought to himself many times- ready to fight off any attack at his parents' rationalization to perhaps jump too quickly to the "evil" team, Who on earth could've predicted that a full grown man and perhaps the (second) most powerful wizard and his full grown men well practiced in the Dark Arts would be bested by a 17 year old walking stick figure with glasses, his doofy yet loyal sidekick and infamous know-it-all bookworm friend? My parents made the obvious choice to ally themselves with a worldly man, with an- in hindsight a little askew- opinion so strong and a determination so sound that he was motivated to change the world…

It had been a very long time since Draco Malfoy had seen the black and white of right and wrong bleed together. Everything was a grey area- just some shades were lighter grey and others were much darker. The idea of black and white had even become a grey matter… His only wish is that others would see it, too. But perhaps he was the unlucky one… Maybe everyone else saw the world in color and he had only progressed to the greys…

A/N: I have decided after one review- thanks buttercup88- I really want more. I feel as though perhaps I'm writing in circles but hopefully I don't get too hasty with my postings and proof read in hopes to come upon a natural flow to the story...