Draco stood in the doorway of his thirteen-bedroom home and peered out over the red and yellow rose bushes. The two flowers intermingled and stretched down a winding path to the wrought-iron gates at the end of the drive. Idly, he wondered why they even had a driveway, as his wizarding lineage negated any need for such travel. Thinking that perhaps he would invest in a car now that he knew how to drive, he cautiously placed his left foot on the first red-brick step and waited for his right to follow down to the next. The air today was crisp and cool. It wasn't quite winter yet, but the temperatures were definitely dropping.
In the past, he loved how the clouds stretched out from their cumulonimbus puffs into the ones that resembled half-eaten fairy floss. He used to wait with baited breath for the days when he could go back-to-school shopping with his mother in Diagon Alley and visit the shops to see what new items were available for purchase. Seeing his friends with their parents was always a laugh and they would exchange stories of their summers while showing off their expensive things to the kids who couldn't afford to have them. He was known as the crème-de-la-crème back then. The youngest Malfoy who would also one day be the richest as he was the only heir to the estate. He was an intelligent lad with a handsome face and perfect hair, and he was magical to boot.
Stopping as he reached the last step, Draco looked up into the skies and sighed. He knew it was pointless and that it would change nothing, but still he lamented his foolishness. He'd had it all back then and he'd squandered it because it wasn't enough. Why was nothing ever enough for him? He hadn't needed to become a Death Eater. Yes, the Dark Lord required him to murder his elderly headmaster, and yes, he'd asked if Draco thought he could manage to get Death Eater's into the school unannounced, but he hadn't been asked to join the black-hearted monsters who'd reveled in the blood of his schoolmates. That was all Draco. Why he ever thought he could hang with them was far beyond him now.
Coughing as he choked back his guilt, Draco looked out over his empty estate. Blaise was not here with him. He said he'd meet him on the train in their usual seats and that Pansy would be with him. He said it didn't matter to him that Draco was now a leper to his country, and Pansy had implied the same as she'd spoken to him through the fireplace, but neither of them was here now and he didn't think he could do this alone. What would happen when he got to the train station? Should he apparate directly onto the platform? Would that cause disguised Aurors to cast hexes at him, or students to shriek in fear of him? Would he be attacked by Potter and Weasel and not allowed onto the train? Would he have to stand there on the platform alone and watch as the Hogwarts Express pulled away without him and all the students bellowed curse words from their windows? Would he cry? Again?
Backing up toward the stairs to his home, he began to panic.
"Merlin, I can't do this! Maybe I can miss the train? Surely McGonagall will understand why I… bloody hell. I just can't." he gasped, clutching his chest.
Draco sprinted back into his home and slammed the door closed in fear of what was on the other side. His panting picked up as more and more images of what could be raced through his head. He berated himself when he felt tears streaming down his cheeks and into the high collar of his shirt. Knocking his head against the door, he slid down the barrier to the floor and took great deep breaths through his mouth as he cried.
One small gasp and a pop later, and his mother, the matriarch of the Malfoy Estate came hurrying in, practically floating across the marble floor in her lush green robes.
"Draco! Darling, what is it? I thought you'd already left for school!" she cried as she knelt next to him and attempted to gather her son, twice her size, into her arms.
Draco did not rebuke her embrace, but he remained rigid and seemingly cold. He shook his head as he tried to gather himself enough to speak.
"I'm terribly sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you'd be on the veranda for tea at this time." He spoke formally.
Narcissa peered down at him, tucking his growing hair behind an ear and smoothing her delicate hands over his cheeks to shush him.
"Never you mind that." She spoke sternly.
"Ory came to fetch me as he was unsure how to help you. Draco, please tell me this isn't you being concerned about going back to that school. I've told you what I think, and you needn't leave if you aren't comfortable there. You don't know what I'd give to have you here with me. Honestly, you—"
"I'm going, Mother." He cut in.
The pair gazed at each other uneasily for a moment as Narcissa weighed how best to manipulate her son, and Draco thought about how to pretend he wasn't scared. Opting to pick himself up from the floor to start, Draco stood, bringing his mother up with him. She attempted to gaze into his eyes and implore he stay with her in hiding, but he refused to meet her eyes. Inhaling deeply and building his resolve once more, Draco turned to break out of her grasp.
"I'm sorry, Mother. I don't know what came over me just then, but I didn't mean to assert that I wouldn't be going to Hogwarts. I am going. I'm expected." He told her in a voice much like his father's.
Narcissa clasped her hands together in front of her bodice and pursed her lips. Draco hated her disapproving stance and showed it by fidgeting next to her. He looked around the foyer at stone statues and moving paintings of flower fields. He looked up at the grand chandelier. Then he looked back toward his mother.
"I was… I may have… forgive my speech, Mother." He said quietly as he tucked both lips into his mouth for a moment.
"Draco, you don't have to go." She reiterated.
Draco nodded. He was aware of the continued surety of his family vaults at Gringotts. But he simply could not be the first Malfoy in history to fail to finish school. The Ministry had not offered to let him sit his N.E.W.T.S. at home. Nor had they offered any alternative way to attend his classes. He had to go back, though they were probably hoping he wouldn't. He had to succeed at something. His only real shot had already presented itself. Graduating Hogwarts as Head Boy was it. If he squandered this, what else was there?
Draco looked around his lavish settings once again and shook his head. He wanted more than this. He wanted to be somebody worth mentioning, worth knowing. Fuck it. He wanted to be loved again. And he wanted to make his mother proud. It was all he could think about ever since he'd received his surprisingly staunch request from Headmistress McGonagall. Her notice had been short and to the point. He wasn't welcome, but she hadn't a choice, so he'd better not make her look bad. And that was it. It iterated that Hermione Granger was to be Head Girl and that she was great and worthy and blah blah blah. She practically told him to kiss the swot's shoes and he'd be damned if he did so. Granger may not be the source or target of his ire for her blood status anymore, but she was still annoying as hell.
Standing with resolve, Draco took his hand and fished out his pocket watch. 9:48 a.m.
"I must go, Mother. Wish me luck, yeah? I fear I may need it this year." He said and apparated himself away before he could think better of it.
Landing directly in the center of Platform 9 ¾ was the second greatest mistake he'd ever made. At once, every living being in the train station stopped moving and stared at him in shock. Draco stood there in his pressed grey slacks, his slightly soggy dress shirt, and his best robe, and didn't breathe. Nobody moved, and it wasn't until an especially miniscule child ran up to Draco and kicked him in the back of the knee, that anyone said anything at all.
"There ya go kid! Get him again!" somebody called as his leg buckled underneath him.
Draco turned his head, looking for the source of the voice with shock on his face.
"No." he whispered, almost to himself.
Another young boy quickly ran upon him to smack his head and yank out a few strands of his hair. Draco envisioned the boy stealing his essence to brew a Polyjuice and had to remind himself that his drastic way of thinking wouldn't help. A foot in his back had the wind escaping his lungs and Draco braced himself on the stone flooring of the magical platform.
"Stop!" he cried, cursing his gripping fear.
"Stop!" he cried again as someone's boot came down into his face.
He spat blood from his mouth and looked around at the adults who stood about. None of them moved, yet all of them watched. It disturbed him greatly that they were watching. When did this become ok?
"Sthap!" he tried to call out again after a forceful hex ripped into him from the side.
His tongue swelling in his mouth caused it to become difficult to breathe and he regretted thinking he could make it onto the train before anyone could notice him. What a stupid thing to believe. A wand tip raised into his line of vision as he struggled to take in oxygen. Laying there on his belly as he gagged, Draco cursed every man, woman, and child into oblivion through his glare. Merlin, they were killing him and nobody even cared!
"He said STOP!" came a fierce bellow from the opposite end of the platform.
Gasps were heard as people hurriedly grabbed their children away from his body and fled to the safety of the benches nearby. Some brave souls attempted to stare down his only savior and hovered over his twitching body regardless of the obvious threat that was before them. Draco felt his face turning purple with tightness of his throat and sincerely feared for his life before a cool set of hands settled themselves over his swelling cheeks. Turning him over onto his back, he looked into deep brown eyes and felt shock at the emotion he found there. She was terrified for him.
"Merlin… stay with me Draco! I can fix this! I can fix this!" she rasped as she opened up a small bag and reached inside.
Not knowing the counter curse to whatever he was afflicted with, she pulled out a bezoar and stuffed it into his mouth, then using her wand, she caused it to slide past his engorged tongue and into his throat. Draco jack-knifed off the ground in pain though she held him to her. Through the slits in his eyes he could see several students now coming to his aid, and several others falling back. The few who stood to protect him each held a wand out toward the crowd, daring someone to step up and begin a fight. There was yelling from many of the parents in the crowd, and though his head was swimming with near unconsciousness, Draco could hear their accusing tones.
"I don't care one whit what you've all got to say about me! If you want to get at Malfoy, you'll have to go through me!" his savior cried.
"And me!" came a second voice.
Draco recognized them but save for the cool and delicate hands which were wiping away the blood from his lips, he was hard pressed to think of much else. The swelling in his throat was dissipating now, and he was breathing slowly through his nose, re-oxygenating his brain while his female placatingly gave him support. Three sets of hands then lifted him to his feet and his head swam, lolling to the side as they dragged him to the train. Nobody else approached, but the jeers didn't end. The people of Kings Cross Station let the eighteen-year-old Malfoy know exactly what they thought of him through their screeches of anger and hate. They would be petitioning the Ministry for his expulsion, they promised. And no amount of support from other students would save him from their wrath. One man swore to have all his family's gold stripped from him as well so that he could live like the pauper he deserved to be. And once that happened, his bread shop would close its doors to him and feed any leftover crumbs to the rats instead of his mother. This comment hurt him the worst as he thought of his mother, sitting at home worrying, rightly, about him.
Resolving to stand a bit straighter and maneuver on his own, Draco pushed away the fumbling hands of the three who'd come to his aid and without looking back, walked steadily onto the train to find his seat.
On the train, two sets of eyes watched, horrified, as the blonde was beat within an inch of his life by four third years. The adults on the train station stood by and watched, some with disgusting grins, as the teenager was throttled by some nasty hex. Then, as he turned colors and gasped for air, they all stood there, waiting. It wasn't what they'd hoped for after such a bloody war had taken place, but how could they have expected more? These were, after all, the same complacent fools who'd allowed the war to begin in the first place. Shaking their heads, they sat back and waited as they saw Malfoy boarding the train at last. Before long, the door to their compartment slid open and the young man they'd been waiting for stood there smiling warily.
"There you two are" he stated as he slumped into a seat by his best friend.
No one spoke in return and though he attempted to appear unaffected, it seemed he would not get a pass on this. So, sensing the tension in the air, he decided he may as well nip this situation in the bud.
"Look. I know what you saw out there looked bad, but it was taken care of. Don't worry about it." he said seriously.
"Don't worry about it?" came his female friend.
"Harry, they nearly killed him… you were supposed to—"
"I know! Alright? I know. But Malfoy's friends showed up and it seemed well in hand… alright?" Harry huffed in agitation.
Ron looked to Hermione with a shrug and she shook her head in disappointment. Harry had one job. Get Malfoy to the train in one piece. Let the kids at the station know that he was aware of and accepted the fact that Malfoy would be going back to Hogwarts. If Malfoy had his support, then they could avoid a scene in the great Hall once everyone filed in. Now, since he'd been allowed to get his arse beat, there would be others who would challenge him away from the prying eyes of their parents. This was no good. It didn't help that even Ronald appeared to realize this as he cast a sideways glance at Harry.
"Alright then boys, I guess we'll just have to let this play out and see what comes of it. Besides, when have any of our other plans ever worked out?" she asked sportingly.
"You mean the ones we actually followed?" Ron asked with a sly grin.
Hermione closed her eyes as she laughed breathily. Harry's cheeky grin spread across his face, too, as he nodded his head along.
"I'm sorry Herms…" he began, but she waved him off.
"Don't think on it Harry. Maybe I'm forcing it a bit. We should probably just let him adjust and not allow him to be bloodied anymore. The last thing the Headmistress needs is for the students to run amok her first year as Head. We'll do what we can, yes?"
Both boys agreed, and as the train pulled away from the station, Hermione found herself grateful that more of the Slytherin's opted back into school this year. She may not have thought it possible if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, but they'd just banned together for a good cause. They'd saved the life of Draco Malfoy.