Written for QL and Hogwarts.
QL, Kestals, Chaser 3, Write about someone trying to make up for past mistakes. Optional prompts: (dialogue) "There has to be something better than this," (weather) rain), (word) inexplicable
Hogwarts, Slytherin, Assignment 3, Music with Professor Loops, Write about someone trying to move on from a sad moment/event in their life or trying to see the positive side of something not good.
WARNINGS: Thoughts of death, mentions of death, subtle suicidal thoughts, dark place.
Word Count: 2231
Thank you, Aya, for the amazing beta! And some of my team for reading through it.
This had gone too far. Supporting the Dark Lord had gone too far.
Draco dropped his head, waiting to be attacked, waiting to die. It didn't matter; nothing mattered anymore. Not his family, not the war, not the innocence dying, nothing. Not even his life. Perhaps things would be better if he could fall into eternal sleep and never wake up. Then, he wouldn't have to deal with his horrible life.
Draco had been having these feelings for months now. But there wasn't anything he could do, and he was stuck because of his and his family's decisions.
There had to be something better than this. Better than this bone-dry day with no rain in sight. Better than complete misery.
He looked up across the vast space between him and his classmates. Had the Dark Lord really won? Would no one step up against him now that Potter was dead?
His eyes drifted towards the corpse of the one who should have saved them all, who should have freed them. He laid still and… wait… did he just twitch?
Draco didn't even notice Longbottom step forward or speak as he stared at his former nemesis.
Come on, Potter!
As though by magic, Potter responded and jumped out of Hagrid's arms. Gasps filled the air. Draco didn't gasp, though; he ran across the courtyard—being the first to move—grabbed Potter's wand and threw it to him, helping him to fight back.
That was the first decision Draco had made without caring about the consequences; it felt good, and it brought him to life. This was also the first step Draco made to make up for his past mistakes; he just didn't know it yet.
"Draco! Son!" his mother's words pulled him out of it. He was being ushered over.
Obedient as ever, he walked to them. And to his surprise, they ran. Ran!
Weeks later, Draco watched his mother being spared from Azkaban and his father being sent away. Draco was never put on trial as he had been underage for most of it—he could imagine that it was Potter's idea.
The court hearing had been brutal. Seeing other Death Eaters, seeing his friends in the stands for their parent's hearing, seeing those who had to say goodbye. But what was worse was knowing why others were missing—and that's because he had already been to their funerals.
Anxiously and impatiently, he couldn't wait to leave and almost ran out of the room when the proceedings were over
"Malfoy," a voice interrupted.
He froze, straightening up and turning around. He wasn't sure if he needed to smile politely or not. In front of him was Granger, one of the people he had tormented for years. "Granger."
"I was hoping to catch you. Do you have a moment?"
What could she want with him? Gloat about winning the war? I hope she knew he wanted Potter to win. "I do," he confirmed with a nod and followed her a few feet from the main hallway.
Granger almost looked nervous. This girl—or woman, he supposed—had helped defeat the Dark Lord while in school, yet talking to him was forced and uncomfortable.
"Hogwarts is extending invitations to everyone who missed their last year of Hogwarts due to the war. I know you haven't replied; I hope you will consider returning to finish your education."
She was so poised and to the point.
Draco felt his lips tug. "I am sure it would be appreciated if I never showed my face again."
She shook her head so quickly that he shocked him. The amused smile at her 'fake words' dropped immediately.
"Everybody deserves a second chance, Malfoy, including you. Personally, I wouldn't mind the educational rivalry. Who will keep me on my toes?" she asked him seriously.
"I was a Death Eater."
"And I am still overly ambitious." She smiled knowingly as though she knew what he was thinking. "All I ask is that you consider it."
Draco hadn't even given it a second thought when he had heard rumours that Hogwarts was allowing an eighth year. He hadn't even looked at his invite before binning it. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
"Here," Granger said, handing him a Hogwarts-sealed letter. "Three weeks to reply."
With that, she walked off, and Draco stared at the letter she had given him. He shook his head and slid it into his cloak pocket before finding his mother and escorting her back to the Manor.
Draco felt at peace with his eyes closed and the water running down his face, soaking his hair and clothes. An inexplicable feeling calmed his mind. The cool bite of water splashing over his skin was harsh on contact but soothed as it seemingly washed away his past and worries. It was as though he was being cleansed of his crimes.
It hadn't rained much since the war, and the air had been much too stale for his liking; the heat and closeness suffocated him. There was nowhere to escape.
After nearly an hour, Draco felt the raindrops stop and opened his eyes. His peace had ended.
"There has to be something better than this," he muttered to himself. He couldn't wait for the rain to wash away his previous sins; he had to do something about it. "I can do better than this."
His eyes focused as he turned purposefully back into the manor, ignoring when the rain started again, and strode up and into his bedroom. It took him less than a minute to locate the letter he had stashed in his drawer and opened it.
Dear Draco Malfoy,
We hereby invite you to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for your final year.
Without reading the rest, and not allowing any time to change his mind, he wrote his reply, accepting and declaring his attendance.
He watched his owl fly off through the rain.
Draco watched the rain cascade outside from the window, watching the ground begin to puddle and the tree collecting the water. He had been back at Hogwarts for his eighth year for just over a week, and while it had dotted with rain twice before, this was the first time it had hammered down.
The eighteen-year-old had been tempted to go out into the courtyard, yearning to feel the cold rainwater wipe away his thoughts, but he knew he couldn't for many reasons. The most prominent one was that he had class in ten minutes.
He allowed himself another few minutes before wandering the halls to his Transfiguration class with Professor—or Headmistress now—McGonagall. It hadn't been his first choice of class, but it was one of the only options being put up for only eighth years instead of joining the seventh-year class.
Draco didn't hesitate to sit at the back of the room, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. It was much different than when he first joined Hogwarts when he was eleven and had actively sought to sit at the front.
The class went smoothly with no distractions and pure focus; he had filled up a piece of parchment with his notes. If things continued like this, he was confident he could achieve O's in every class.
Then the unthinkable happened. Nine days into the school year, Headmistress McGonagall said the one thing he didn't want to hear: Paired project. There were only twelve students in this class, a mixture of all four houses, and he was the only Slytherin. Two other Slytherins had returned for their eighth year but had not taken this class.
He looked down, readying his request to work alone on the project, when a shadow covered his parchment.
"Granger," he said, looking up.
"We're the two left. Do you want to partner up?"
Draco couldn't believe that she hadn't had offers from every single student to be their partner. He waved his hand dismissively. "If I have to."
"You do," she confirmed. "Library after dinner?"
She phrased it as a question, but he knew better than to discuss a when and where. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. Now, he was stuck with the Mudblood know-it-all for this whole project. He immediately looked away from her—did he just think that? That wasn't allowed anymore. He hadn't said such a slur aloud since the war ended, and this was the first time he thought it; he needed to be more careful. Draco didn't even look at her as he grabbed his stuff and strode off.
Time to meet at the library came too quickly. Draco had gathered notes and research in preparation in order to keep this study time as short as possible. He had arrived early after seeing her in the Great Hall eating and chatting to others. It gave him twenty minutes of peace and quiet and, more importantly, time to find more books to speed things up.
She entered with a bound of laughter from the hallway but thankfully entered alone, leaving the noise and commotion behind. She met his eyes and walked over.
They got to work instantly, both as focused as the other. And Draco had to admit to himself that it was nice to have some company, to talk to somebody, even if it was only about the Transfiguration project.
The two of them worked so efficiently that most of it was done before curfew, and they agreed to meet up the following evening after dinner to finish it off.
That was when things began to change. They started talking about things that weren't even related to school during their meet-ups. They distracted each other from whatever that bothered them at the time. It was puzzling and exhilarating. Inexplicable even. He would never have guessed that they would have so much in common.
When they started meeting on Saturday mornings, Draco knew he should pull back. But there was something he needed to do and had been holding off on.
"Granger," he started, putting down the quill. "This project is done."
She nodded in agreement. "It is. We still have two weeks before it needs to be handed in. Perhaps we should meet the evening before to finalise it?"
That was a good suggestion and one he agreed to. He submerged his feelings about no longer having the companionship; he didn't think it was specifically to do with it being Granger, but more having somebody to talk to.
He watched as she began to collect her belongings.
"Granger…" he hesitated. "Why did you want to partner up with me?"
She looked at him, mildly puzzled. "Everyone else was paired up."
"I'm not a first-year. You were half of their first choices. Why didn't you accept?"
Placing her bag on the chair, she began to the paperwork away. "A lot of them are genuine, and it's great. I've never been popular before. But I know some of them are hanging out with me because I'm friends with Harry and helped him to stop Voldemort."
Draco jerked involuntarily at that name.
"It was refreshing to work with someone who doesn't ask me questions about Harry and Ron, and my future and everything else about my life."
He hadn't considered that. He had been so self-absorbed on himself that he hadn't even considered why Granger had chosen him. Somehow, her explanation made him feel more flattered and proud. He couldn't put his finger on why.
"Why?"
Draco looked at her, caught off-guard by her question despite him having started the conversation. "I had been prepared to work alone, to remain isolated from everyone."
He paused, beginning to collect his things, too.
"I want to make amends." Draco had planned on saying more but didn't continue. While Granger had shown him kindness, and they had had a variety of conversations, they weren't friends.
She smiled at him genuinely; it was strange to think the person he had tormented for years was smiling because of him. "Keep doing what you're doing. People will be cautious, but if you continue this journey and remain decent, you'll mend and create bridges."
That was very poetic of her but sound advice. He hadn't thought of mending any broken bridges or reaching out to old acquaintances—would people think he was bringing back Death Eaters if he met with children of Death Eaters? He wasn't sure. But getting an education and keeping his head down, that he could do.
The two nodded in agreement and started to leave. Once again, Draco found himself stopping her.
"Granger."
She turned patiently. "Yes, Malfoy?"
"I'm sorry for how cruel I was to you growing up."
Every expression dropped from her face as her mouth opened slightly before she gave him a look he could only describe as thankful; her eyes were slightly moist, her lips were turned upwards, and she bowed her head slightly. "Thank you." She paused. "I forgive you."
And with that, Draco let her walk off, and he stood in the library momentarily frozen; he hadn't expected her to forgive him or even respond. He didn't deserve to be forgiven yet, but he will do everything possible to earn that. There was much more he could do to make up for his past mistakes, more than just an apology. Starting now, he would turn his life around and be the man he had always been afraid to be.
Thank you for reading.