My Muse Made Me Do It!
He opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, and he blinked a few times before it all cleared up. He could feel dried blood coating his face and he was sore all over. He stood up with some difficulty. What had happened? Why had he blacked out? Then it all came back to the boy.
He was pleading the Death Eater to spare him, insisting that he was on their side. Then someone had stunned the Death Eater. An invisible hand had punched him hard on the face. That explained the blood.
It was Weasley. He was the one who punched him, from under Potter's Invisibility Cloak, no doubt. He knew it was him because as he gave them a silent, bemused, and bloody smirk in thanks, he heard Weasley's voice yelling at him. Something along the lines of, "And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!"
Definitely Weasley.
He passed out promptly after that. He woke up to see all of the Death Eaters walking back into Hogwarts. Those filthy, traitorous bastards.
Dolohov knew he was on their side. Yet he had Crucio-ed him on the battlefield twice. Nott had punched him in the gut before Crucio-ing him. Right before he had went into the Room of Requirement to follow Potter, Mulciber had gotten into a duel with him. He had beaten the older Death Eater, though. And not long after, Rookwood had insisted that he was no longer on the right side and almost killed him for it.
But the Golden Trio had saved him.
The Death Eaters were led by their snake faced leader, and the half giant, Hagrid. He was carrying a dead body, carrying... Harry Potter?
No.
No, no, no. It can't be. He listened to the Dark Lord, no, the Dark Bastard's speech about how the great Chosen One was dead. It couldn't be.
No matter how much he didn't like him, that boy had saved his life twice tonight, and Draco Malfoy could not believe it. He officially loathed the Death Eaters more than one can even think possible. First, they assigned him a near impossible mission just for something that his father, not him, had done. Then, they betrayed him too many times to count on the final battlefield. And this, this was the last straw. When someone was finally kind to him out of the goodness of their hearts, and not for his money or power, they had killed him. Mind the sarcasm, but isn't that just nice?
He was thinking when all of hell broke loose. Giants, centaurs, and... House elves? That's new. They were all fighting, spells were flying. Draco didn't have a wand. Great. The first thing he thought of was to steal a wand from an unaware Death Eater. He dashed through the crowd and... tripped. He tripped over an unconscious body. A Death Eater with a wand. Draco snatched the wand without a second thought and battled his way to the front to see where all the action was.
Hermione was battling with Mulciber. Dolohov, that traitorous git, was sneaking up on her. Draco aimed a good Expelliarmus at him, a Flipendo, and then a strong Immobulus at him, no mercy. And for good measure, he Stunned Mulciber. Hermione looked in the direction of her savior, and saw Draco. Shooting him a ghost of a grateful smile and a curt nod, she disappeared into the crowd of fighters. Draco tried to get to the front, the center of action, too. Of course, it was too hard, so he was just stuck near the back.
He heard the half giant, Hagrid, yelling that Harry Potter had disappeared. A few minutes later, a loud Protego was heard, and Draco had no doubt it was Potter's voice.
"He's alive!"
And everything quieted at once.
Draco had almost zoned out in the banter between Potter's and the Dark Bastard's. That is, until he had heard his name.
The Elder Wand had been his? Thank goodness Voldemort hadn't known. Potter better kill him, though. Draco would rather not die after all this. But Potter had disarmed him earlier, so now it was his.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
And the Elder Wand flew out of Voldemort's hand and into the true master's hand, Harry Potter's hand.
And the Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named, the Dark Bastard, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, dropped dead. Draco saw his parents rush over and bring him into a air stealing hug.
Oh Merlin, how he missed them.
Draco bolted up off his bed. He still misses his parents. They were in Azkaban, his dad for six and a half more years, his mom would be back for Holiday Break, because Harry Potter had testified for her, and he had just recently been let out of his three month sentence, Harry Potter also testifying for him at Narcissa's insistence.
He sighed and got out of his bed. He got ready mechanically as he always did these past few weeks he had been back, and served himself breakfast. He told the House Elves specifically never to serve him breakfast. He didn't want the warm breakfast that he would share with his parents everyday when they weren't here with him. Sometimes his parents were busy for lunch and dinner, but never for breakfast. They always sat around the big table every morning and ate as a family, a warm House Elf made breakfast. Draco didn't want to be reminded of that.
Instead, he took his notebook with him, poured himself some pumpkin juice, and took out two pieces of bread that he heated up in the kitchen's oven and some butter.
Instead of reading and discussing the Daily Prophet with his father, he thought and planned in his head of what to put in his slightly worn, dragon skin notebook.
Instead of politely asking his mother about her latest social outing, he wrote and wrote and wrote.
He considered himself an artist.
He had a tortured soul (no pun intended), both physically from all the Crucio's he had received and mentally, from missing his parents and the trauma of the war.
Draco had helped rebuild Hogwarts, but little was left to be done after he had gotten out of Azkaban. After that, he had taken up the hobby of writing. At first, he just wrote down his thoughts of, well, everything. Then one day, on one of his first days at the rebuilding of Hogwarts, he found his inspiration, his muse, and she inspired him (without actually knowing she did) to begin writing a book. He worked hard on it, because he had nothing else to do.
He was writing a rather thought provoking character profile when an owl swooped in with a Hogwarts letter. He smiled to himself, took the letter, stroked the owl on the head, and sent it off with an owl treat. Opening the letter slowly, as to not rip the envelope, Draco soon had the letter and a badge in his hand. A Head Boy Badge.
He scanned through the letter and its contents quickly; supply list, Head Boy Congratulations letter, list of contraband items; nothing new.
"Gully!" he called and a shorter than average House Elf with normal House Elf eyes, and a timid expression appeared within seconds.
"Yes, Master Draco?"
"Pack me some money, please," he asked her politely, to which the House Elf nodded and popped away. Draco finished up his current paragraph and, closing his notebook/journal, stood up to retrieve his robe.
"Here you go, Master Draco," Gully reappeared and gave Draco a heavy sack of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. With a curt nod, Draco grabbed it and Apparated to Diagon Alley.
Feeling like he deserved it for becoming Head Boy, Draco headed to the newest ice cream parlour, Weasley's Wizard Ice Cream Parlour. He chuckled. Seems like that Weasley twin was expanding.
Draco sat down at a small table and scanned the list of flavours on the given menu until something caught his eye.
Flavours of the Moment
In Honour of our War Heroes
Dark Chocolate Curl for Hermione Granger
Weasel Red Pumpkin for Ronald Weasley
May Green Mint for Harry Potter
Golden Snitch Vanilla
Golden Trio Special includes all four flavours
The blonde snickered at the ice cream flavour name for Ronald Weasley.
"How my I help you?" a bubbly voice asked. Draco looked up to see a dirty blonde haired girl with hazel eyes. Her name tag read Amaretta.
"I'll have a small scoop of Dark Chocolate Curl and Golden Snitch Vanilla," he said, putting down the menu. The waitress smiled, wrote it down in her pad, and dashed away to fill the order. As he waited, Draco opened up his notebook (he no longer went anywhere without it) and tapped his muggle pen impatiently on the paper as he thought of how to phrase the next event. He found that Muggle pens were much more convenient and clean than quills when he saw Hermione Granger using one last year at Hogwarts, and he used one whenever he wrote.
His pen had barely reached the paper when the waitress, Amaretta, returned with his ice cream. "Here you go," she chirped, placing the bowl before him. With a nod of thanks from Draco, she left him soon after. Draco had to admit, the Weasley twin was doing a good job here. The ice cream was delicious, and Draco liked the chocolate one best. He worked on one of the last few character profiles he had left as he ate, not being able to think of anything else to do.
Henry Roger Granton
40 year old father of Xander Andrew Granton and wife of Cassandra Granton nee Willcotts. Owner of the Granton Jewel Mines. Lord to the King.
A rather controlling fellow (think of father in one of his fits) and easily angered. Wasn't very nice and very assertive in business deals. An authoritative figure, he was very tall and exuded an aura of power, wealth, and wisdom. He had beard and moustache, platinum hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. Henry was very strict and accepted nothing but what he wanted. Xander never seemed to meet Henry's expectations, so he punished the boy,
If Xander had the choice, he wouldn't listen to his father. He expects him to be exactly what he isn't and Xander just can't do that. And he is afraid of what will happen when he doesn't obey his father. Sometimes Xander wonders what made his father like this, but he can't think of any other reason other than Henry just not really liking him.
Clink. Draco's metal spoon hit the bottom of his glass bowl. He closed his notebook, packed up his belongings, stood up, and dusted himself off, leaving a few coins to pay for his ice cream. Making sure he had everything, Draco set off to buy everything he needed for the upcoming school year. The upcoming school year as Head Boy.
Granger is no doubt Head Girl, he thought to himself. It's bound to be an interesting year.
After he had bought all of his supplies, Draco headed to Gringotts to exchange some Wizard money for muggle money and headed out to muggle London. He needed a whole new pack of pens because he had a habit of losing them, and new notebooks because he had a feeling he would be writing a lot.
After all, the tortured soul of this artist has a strong muse, and nothing's stopping him.