Drinny FF

Chapter 3

I woke up to the soft glow of sunlight spiling through the curtains. It was strange- the house was so quiet, quieter than I ever remembered. Even the elves barely made a sound these days. They were probably afraid of making my mother upset. Everything felt heavier, like the silence itself was pressing down on us.
Father was gone. Azkaban. The thought didn't sting the way I imagined it would.
I sat up in bed, feeling the cool air hit my skin as I pulled back the sheets. My room was just as it had always been—grand, polished, filled with expensive things. But without him around, it felt different. Lighter, almost. Less suffocating.
Father had always been there, lurking like a shadow, reminding me of what it meant to be a Malfoy. The expectations, the pressure, the name. All the sneering, the cruelty—it was something he had drilled into me. For years, I thought it was the only way to be.
But now? Now I wasn't so sure.
I pushed myself up and crossed the room to the mirror. My reflection looked the same—pale skin, sharp features, blond hair slicked back—but I didn't feel the same. The smirk I used to wear like a shield was gone. I hadn't even thought about it this morning.
My school robes were laid out on the chair, the Slytherin crest gleaming in the morning light. I ran my fingers over the fabric, feeling the weight of it. But this year, it didn't feel like a burden. It felt… lighter. Like maybe I didn't have to be the same Draco Malfoy who sneered at everyone, who tried to prove he was better than them because of his name, his bloodline.
Father wasn't here to tell me what to do anymore. And honestly, I didn't want to be that person anymore.
I thought about Hogwarts, about the last five years—Potter, Granger, Weasley. All the insults, the hexes, the endless need to prove I was above them. But what did it ever get me? Nothing. Just an endless cycle of trying to live up to some twisted idea of what power and strength meant.
I glanced over at my desk where a letter from Father sat, unopened. I hadn't touched it since it arrived. Whatever he had to say from Azkaban, I didn't care to hear it. Not anymore.
Then my eyes drifted to the photo on my nightstand. Mother. I picked it up, studying her face. She looked calm, composed, but I knew better. She was suffering in silence, trying to keep everything together for my sake, trying to keep the pieces of our broken family from falling apart completely.
But without Father here, it was just the two of us. And I realized, as I set the photo back down, that I wanted something different now. I wanted to be better—for her. She deserved better.
I didn't have to be like him. I didn't have to be cold, ruthless, cruel. I didn't have to be a Malfoy in the way he'd always wanted. I could just be me, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
A smile tugged at my lips, surprising me. It wasn't a smirk, not the old mask I used to wear. It was real, small but real.
For the first time in my life, I felt free.
I grabbed my robes and pulled them on, feeling a sense of purpose settle over me. I wasn't going to be an asshole anymore. I didn't need to prove anything to anyone. I was Draco Malfoy, and maybe that was enough. Maybe being kind didn't make me weak. Maybe being myself didn't make me a failure.
And for the first time in years, I felt… happy. Happier than I'd felt in a long time.
As I left my room and headed downstairs, I found Mother waiting for me, her eyes soft but tired. She gave me a small smile, and I smiled back.
Narcissa: Ready for the new year, love?
I nodded.

Draco: Yeah, I am.
And this time, I meant it.