Author's note: As you will notice in this chapter, some character deaths in the books did not happen in this story. You can say that this story is already slightly canon divergent right before the ending of the sixth book.

Thanks to the following reviewers: Richon; AlyssaOtaku69; SehunsBae37; Iraheta 127; littlesprout; Kat

Can I just say I'm happy to see several familiar names back?

Warnings: Violence and a bit of gore actually; description of injuries; flashback

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I hope you'll like it!

Part 3

Seeing an unfamiliar owl flying away when Draco came down for breakfast wasn't odd perse. Since the trials had finished a couple of weeks ago, mother had been in contact with several other Pureblood families, attempting to discern which place in the social circle their family occupied nowadays. Their position definitely was not as high as it had been before the war, but the fact that Potter had testified in their defence had actually done quite some damage control. Even the most stuck up Pureblood family couldn't ignore the fact that the Malfoys had been defended by one of the main heroes of the war.

What was strange was the letter bearing his name, sent by Hogwarts.

"Why would they send me a letter?" Draco frowned, his hand hovering above the letter in question. He had no idea whether he even wanted to know what it said.

"You will only know when you read it, my dear," Mother said calmly, inclining her head when a house elf popped up to refill her cup of tea.

He pursed his lips before sighing quietly, opening the letter while a hint of trepidation lingered in the pit of his stomach.

The heading was the same one which had greeted him ever since he had turned eleven.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr Malfoy,

In light of the events which took place during the previous school year, it has been decided that exceptionally an eighth year will be organised for the students who attended their seventh year last year. This extra year will give you the opportunity to take up your classes in a setting that is more conductive to learning.

As it stands, this eighth year is not obligatory. Should you wish, you have the option to take your final exams at a later date this summer. If you pass, you will receive your diploma.

If you choose to take up the offer of an eighth year, please confirm this decision by owl by the fifteenth of August at the latest. In that case, you will receive your list of necessary books and equipment by the twenty-second of August.

Please keep in mind that the new term will begin on the first of September.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

If not for his last name being mentioned at the beginning, Draco would have thought this was just a generic letter that was sent to everybody, regardless of who they were. With everything that had happened these past couple of months he hadn't even thought about the fact that he should have graduated in June. He had followed classes during the school year, but …

"Draco?"

Mother's voice startled him a bit and he looked up, putting the letter down on the table. "Hogwarts will be organising an eighth year to repeat the classes. They want to know by the fifteenth of August whether I will return for the new year."

"And will you be returning?" Mother asked calmly.

"I don't know," he replied after a pause. "I'm not sure … if it would be a good idea."

With father having fallen out of the Dark Lord's favour and Draco himself having failed in his own personal task given by the Lord, last school year had been far from easy – which was an understatement. The war was over now, but that didn't mean that others would suddenly be accepting of him. Considering how outraged people had been because Draco and his mother had escaped Azkaban, he didn't hold out much hope that this year would be a better experience. It might actually be worse; was he willing to risk that simply to finish his education more officially?

"Malfoys do not keep their heads down," Mother reminded him. "You should not fear what others will think. It is your life; you should do what you want to do."

That was the thing, though: he had no idea what he wanted to do.

"You received a letter from Hogwarts as well?" Blaise questioned idly, resting his hand around his cup of tea.

"Yes, a couple of days ago," Draco confirmed; his own cup of tea remaining untouched in front of him.

They were in Madely's Magical Tearoom; a new café that had recently opened in Diagon Alley. With the war over, there was an influx of new shopkeepers opening new businesses and old ones returning to their shops. The crowd outside was not yet at the size it had been until two years ago but people were clearly desperate to return to their normal lives. Young boys gathered in front of the Quality Quidditch Supplies, gaping at the brooms with their shiny handles displayed behind the glass. Kids and teenagers of all ages poured in and out of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; young women eagerly visited Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and Twilfitt and Tatting's, leaving the shops with large bags. Tearooms, cafés and restaurants all had people stopping for a break in their shopping spree, enjoying coffee, sweets or a very late lunch.

When Blaise had extended an invitation to join him for a trip to Diagon Alley, Draco had agreed, thinking a change of scenery might help clear his muddled mind. Ever since receiving the letter, he had grown more unsure than ever about what he wanted to do. Frankly during the war he had expected to be killed and thus hadn't even thought to consider how his life would be if he happened to survive. Survive he had, though, and with his punishment only being restrictions on his wand and a curfew during the evening, there was no reason to not consider what he should do next.

That would go easier if he had any idea of what he wanted to do.

"Did you decide yet what you're going to do?" Blaise asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Not yet," Draco admitted. "Are you planning on returning?"

The other man sighed and leant back in his chair. "I am seriously considering it, if only to escape mother's new paramour," he sneered.

"Someone new caught her attention then?" Draco asked, not particularly interested in this particular conversational topic but at least it allowed him to keep his mind off the less than subtle stares he received from the other patrons.

"Unfortunately," Blaise said disdainfully. "I believe the poor sucker is from Germany this time. He speaks English at least, but he is dreadfully boring."

"Rich family?" Draco guessed; a faint spark of amusement coming alive before it was extinguished just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Hm, the heir to an important potion business – at least in Germany," Blaise said bored. "I give him four months at best before mother convinces him to marry her."

And from there the German wizard's fate would be sealed. With seven dead husbands, it was undoubtedly clear that Mrs. Zabini was not simply a very unfortunate woman in love, but with no evidence present none of the charges ever stuck the rare times her dead husband's family dared to sue her. A part of Draco admired the older woman for her craftiness; one had to be very intelligent in order to not only gain the trust of these wealthy, influential wizards time and again but get them to marry her too, even whilst being aware of her romantic background. The bigger part of him was more than content to stay away from her.

They chatted idly for a while longer; both of them staying away from the dangerous topics. When Blaise's gaze darted more and more often to a particular girl in the right corner of the shop, Draco decided it was time to leave, having no interest in witnessing Blaise flirt with the witch. He was remarkably similar to his mother in that aspect, though so far at least all his former paramours were still alive.

"You are quite incorrigible," Draco sighed, rolling his eyes.

Blaise grinned; his dark eyes glistening. "I'm simply an admirer of beauty."

"Yes, well, feel free to admire her without me," Draco said dryly and stood up.

"Don't sell yourself short. Your reputation might be shot, but you still have your looks," Blaise smirked, because he truly could be such a prick. "If you want, I can find out if she has pretty girlfriends."

"No, thanks, not interested," Draco snorted and left before the other one could drag him into a conversation with the brunette.

Ignoring the heavy stares he received, he walked out of the café, glancing up at the sky. The sun had momentarily disappeared behind some clouds, but the sky was clear; it appeared the warm weather would keep up for a while longer at least.

Having no desire to visit the shops on his own nor interested in buying anything, he decided to go home. In a couple of hours his curfew would begin and he was determined not to give the Aurors any reason to show up and drag him off to the Ministry.

Someone suddenly left the alley on his left, forcing him to draw to an abrupt stop or risk bumping into them. Right as he opened his mouth, irritated, the person turned his head and he realised who it was.

"Potter?" he said stumped, watching green eyes widen in recognition.

It was indeed Potter who had nearly crashed into him when leaving the alley. Potter, who was dressed in a simple blue shirt, Muggle trousers and who was holding –

A sleepy looking baby in swing against his chest.

As Draco stared bewildered, the baby turned their head. Deep blue eyes locked onto his before the baby's mop of black hair promptly changed to a blond colour.

"Is this my cousin?" he blurted out without thinking, feeling his cheeks warm up slightly when Potter blinked surprised.

He didn't think he was wrong, though. While mother did not have any contact with her sister Andromeda after the older woman had decided to betray the family by marrying a Muggle-born, rumours still found their way to her. Several months ago mother had somehow discovered that her niece called Nymphadora had been expecting a child. Draco had no idea what had become of the baby, but considering Nymphadora had apparently been a Metamorphmagus and this baby had just changed their hair colour, he thought it was safe to assume that this baby must be Nymphadora's.

"Ah, erm, yes, this is Teddy," Potter said and cleared his throat. "Sorry for almost walking into you, I was trying to – doesn't matter."

"I didn't know you were taking care of him." Because apparently he had no idea how to keep his mouth shut. There was literally no reason to keep standing here and continue talking with Potter, but something kept him rooted here. He didn't dare to examine why that was.

"Andromeda has been taking care of him, but now that I'm out of the hospital I've taken over his care for the most part," Potter replied. He had a rather bemused look on his face as if he didn't really understand either why they kept talking.

"Why?" Draco asked mystified. It wasn't as if Teddy was immediate family to him, so why –

"I'm his godfather," Potter answered non-puzzled. "It only makes sense that I take care of him."

Potter was his godfather? With the git's bad luck, who could possibly believe he made perfect guardian material? It would have made a lot more sense to have Aunt Andromeda as the baby's godmother.

"Right," Draco said feebly. "So you decided to take him out for a trip?"

Potter narrowed his eyes slightly before huffing, adjusting the grip he had on Teddy's bottom through the sling. "There is only so much time I can spend watching the same walls before growing insane," he replied, slightly aggrieved. "So yes, I decided to take him out to Diagon Alley, even if that means dealing with pushy people. Can't really use a Glamour because that does nothing for my scar and well, messing up my face is not really a viable strategy so I just have to put up with the attention for now."

Draco's skin prickled uncomfortably at the reminder of Potter's messed up face that time when he and his posse had been dragged into Malfoy Manor. Potter himself seemed to realise too late what he had just said, because he coloured red a bit, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Draco decided to ignore that uncomfortable reminder and simply quirked an eyebrow. "You're confined to your home now?"

"Far from it, but I also am not in the mood to deal with people demanding my attention constantly," Potter said clipped. "Ron and Hermione are dealing with – family stuff, so I can't visit them either for a while. How about you?" he asked abruptly. "You came here for a change of scenery?"

Draco couldn't decide whether Potter's tone was sarcastic or not, but without a wand it would be beyond stupid to risk getting into a brawl with him.

"Blaise invited me to join him on a trip to Diagon Alley."

Potter glanced around them. "Are you waiting for him while he's in a shop or so?"

"No, he became distracted by a girl, so I left him at the café," Draco replied and added with a sneer, "I've been forced to witness his flirting more than enough times at Hogwarts. I wasn't about to subject myself to it again now."

"Ah, you're on your way home then?" Potter guessed, uttering shushing sounds when Teddy started mumbling something incomprehensibly. "Again didn't mean to bump into you there; I was distracted a bit."

"It's fine," Draco said stiffly, feeling uneasy at the almost cavalier tone Potter was using.

Or perhaps his growing unease had more to do with the hard stares from the people around him. He was ready to pay them no mind, as he had been doing ever since he had arrived here, but when he glanced around, he frowned, sensing something was off. Yes, everybody was staring, but they were staring at Potter this time. A fact that sadly wasn't that uncommon considering Potter's fame, but this time the stares were … off.

"You're noticing it too?"

Draco looked at Potter again, whose face had lost every trace of nonchalance. He was still making those stupid shushing noises to Teddy, but his free hand was resting on his pocket – where his wand was.

"I thought it was just my imagination," Potter murmured, barely moving his lips while his eyes darted from one side of the street to the other. "But the people here are acting strange."

Draco wanted to quip sarcastically that these idiots were merely acting starstruck, but the words got stuck in his throat when he saw the eerie manner in which every person in the street slowed down to a stop. Where just a few minutes before the street had been bustling with people's laughter and chattering, now the place was eerily silent, only the chirping and cooing of some birds disturbing the uneasy silence. One would assume the street had become suddenly deserted, but no, people were still here. They had simply stopped talking, stopped walking and as Draco watched, they all twisted around, keeping their gazes fixated on Potter.

People staring at Potter was far from a novelty, but these stares … The hairs in Draco's neck rose up. These stares were empty, as if they were soulless bodies meandering around. Empty but fixated, focusing solely on Potter, and ice replaced the blood in Draco's veins when he realised he had seen this type of stare before. It had been last summer when the Dark Lord had taken over the manor and he had decided to show his followers yet another thing he could do to them when they displeased him.

Draco felt like he would throw up any second now, barely keeping the bile at bay by swallowing repeatedly. He couldn't afford to show weakness now, not when he had already failed his mission, but the pressure of the Dark Lord's power was nearly suffocating, turning more oppressive as he glided through the once opulent ballroom; his chilly gaze sliding over each of them.

"Physical pain is temporary." The Dark Lord's voice was a near whisper, so soft it was, but it seemed to echo through the room regardless, reaching even the ones stationed furthest in the back.

"It is easily forgettable as well. There are types of pain, however, which are a lot harder to ignore," the Dark Lord continued, drawing to a halt in the middle of the ballroom.

Draco didn't even need to look up to see what the Dark Lord was looking: a group of four Death Eaters. They had displeased him, though Draco had no idea what they had done exactly. Whatever it had been, it had been bad enough to have the Dark Lord gather everybody to witness their punishment.

"Pain that will linger and fester, never leaving but ever persisting," the Dark Lord whispered. He raised his wand and his cruel smile was audible in his voice when he said, "Sine Voluntate!"

Unwillingly Draco's gaze was dragged to the centre where he watched how the tears on the failed Death Eaters' faces immediately stopped, their faces growing slack and their eyes –

Their eyes were completely empty.

The spell itself sounded almost innocent, but its effect was far from that. Similar to the Imperius Curse, the Voluntas Curse stripped its victim of their autonomy, turning them into nothing more than a soulless husk. The caster had complete control over the victim but unlike the Imperius Curse, the caster could compel the victim to do only one thing: attack. Like mindless beasts the victims would attack whoever the caster set sights on, using everything necessary to complete the deed. There was no counter-curse; only an extended stay in the hospital with frequent therapy sessions could lead to the victim being freed from the curse. Even with the necessary medical help, however, a percentage of the victims never recovered, doomed to resemble the victims of a Dementor's Kiss.

He wasn't mistaken. The empty stare of all these people could only mean one thing: someone had managed to cast the Voluntas Curse. Not only on a couple of people, no, at least twenty of them, if not more, Draco realised with growing dread as he watched nearly half the street turn around to stare at Potter. The second he saw the closest one, a curly haired woman, raise her wand, he reacted.

"Potter, run!"

Potter's eyes widened but instead of arguing, he promptly turned around and ran away, back into the alley. A bright purple spell chipping the brick wall next to Draco sent him dashing after Potter as well, not keen on trying to find out whether he would be left alone or treated as collateral damage.

"What the hell is wrong with them?" Potter snapped, ducking just in time before a mustard yellow curse could hit him.

The curse crashed into the window of the nearest apothecary, melting the glass as if fire was poured over it.

"They're cursed," Draco replied grimly, skidding around a man who looked ready to yell at him before the man realised they were being chased.

"Merlin!" the guy exclaimed before fleeing into the nearby clothing shop, slamming the door behind him.

"The Imperius Curse?" Potter guessed before he used some particularly strong language that Draco was pretty certain babies shouldn't be hearing.

Without skipping a beat Potter whirled around and fired off several spells in succession. One made a couple of wooden barrels explode, sending their content of frog guts and fish eyes flying through the air and landing like disgusting rain on their pursuers. It made some of them skid across the slimy filth and lose their balance, falling onto their backs. A second spell called up a thick smoke screen and a third one had the earth itself rising up, creating a thick wall.

"We need to hide somewhere right now," Potter stated the obvious; his eyes darting around the street.

Teddy had started crying by now, adding to the general chaos. An explosion rocked the street and the top right corner of Potter's improvised natural wall broke away, crashing onto a round table outside a café. The wall might hold the pursuers up for now but they were clearly not about to let themselves be stopped for long.

"Not the Imperius Curse, the Voluntas one," Draco replied hastily; his heart seemingly stuck in his throat. "Whoever cast it just turned a whole bunch of people in relentless attackers and you're clearly their target!"

Potter being their target should mean that Draco was safe – until he saw a midnight blue curse zigzagging through a hole in the earth wall before it bounced off against a glass display, hitting the shopkeeper right in his stomach. The man screamed in agonising pain when his stomach literally started to dissolve, parts of his intestines becoming visible as another wizard desperately tried to cast Healing Charms.

Potter might be their target but nobody was safe.

"Malfoy, watch out!"

His body automatically reacting, Draco ducked away but was a second too late. He caught a glimpse of a burning red gaping snout before it hit his right arm. For a couple of seconds he felt nothing.

Then pain flared up, searing hot fire started eating away at his skin and he screamed.

AN2: This is going to be a bumpy ride; who's here along for the ride? :)

Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.

I hope to see you all back in the next chapter! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!

Cuddles

Melissa

P.S. For more information about my upcoming and posted stories, please visit my profile.