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Flashback to Summer – Right Before School is About to Start
Malfoy POV
Draco Malfoy sat alone in his room at Malfoy Manor, staring out of the tall, arched window at the rolling green fields that stretched endlessly before him. The sky above was a washed-out gray, and the wind was still, offering no comfort in the stifling silence of the grand, cold house. His hands rested on the windowsill, fingers tapping absently against the polished wood, the rhythm quick and anxious, matching the thoughts spinning endlessly in his mind. He'd been doing this often—standing at this very spot, looking out at nothing in particular, while his mind drifted back to the same place, the same moment in time. The Quidditch World Cup.
It had been just over a week since the World Cup, but Draco still remembered every detail as if it had just happened. The noise of the crowd, the roaring cheers, the energy of the game. All of that had been exciting, yes, but it wasn't the match that stuck with him. It wasn't the spectacle of the stadium, the celebration of Ireland winning in such a dramatic fashion, or even the Dark Mark that hung ominously in the sky later that night the—the Dark Mark he had a certain feeling that he knew where it came from. It was a couple of quiet moments, small things that should have been insignificant but weren't.
While not completely out of character for his father, for some reason he couldn't shake the memory of how his father had spoken to his mother after they returned to their tent. The sharp, cutting tone Lucius had used, the way Narcissa's eyes had flickered with something Draco hadn't noticed before. Discomfort? Fear? No, it wasn't fear, exactly. It was more like resignation. As if she was used to it, as if this was just the way things were. That moment had lodged itself in Draco's mind, replaying over and over. His father had always been demanding, of course, always cold and commanding. But something about the way he had treated his mother that day—something about how casually Lucius had almost used an Unforgiveable Curse on her—had struck Draco in a way it never had before.
And then there had been Potter.
That brief conversation during the match when he had confronted him right outside of the box. Draco could still hear Harry's voice, but there was not frustration or hate, instead they had been full of sympathy and understanding. They hadn't spoken for long—barely a few sentences exchanged—but what Harry had said had stuck with Draco in a way that he hadn't expected. He hadn't wanted to care, hadn't wanted to think about it afterward. But he did. Every day since the World Cup, he had replayed that moment in his mind, as if there was something more to be understood, something that had shifted inside him without his permission.
"… I have a feeling, I might not be the only one who has had a hard life …" Harry had said, his voice soft, his eyes full of something Draco had never cared to notice before.
At the time, Draco had froze but had wanted to laugh it off, sneer, make some cutting remark about Harry's lack of family. But something in the way Harry had looked at him, something in the tone of his voice—it had unsettled him. Draco had grown up being told that his family was superior, that the Malfoys were above everyone else. And for as long as he had remembered it, he had believed it. But in that moment, with Harry looking at him, it was as if a crack had appeared in the foundation of that belief, and no matter how hard Draco tried to ignore it, he couldn't.
He sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window. It had all seemed so simple before, so clear. His father's expectations, his place in Slytherin, his friends, his status—everything had a purpose. He knew his role, knew what was expected of him. But now? Now he wasn't so sure. He wasn't even sure what had changed, or what exactly it was that caused it. All he knew was that since the World Cup, something inside him had shifted, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake it.
It wasn't just his father's behavior or Harry's words. It was everything. Draco found himself questioning every choice he had made, every insult he had thrown, every time he had stood by and watched as others were hurt or humiliated because it suited him. He thought of how he treated people like Potter, Weasley, Granger—people he'd always thought were beneath him. But why had he thought that? Because his father had told him so? Because that's what was expected of him as a Malfoy, as a Slytherin?
For the first time in his life, Draco wasn't sure if those reasons were good enough anymore.
He had spent days since the World Cup locked in his thoughts, replaying memories, moments that should have been insignificant but now seemed monumental. How had his father treated him growing up? How had his father treated his mother his entire life? Why had his mother always stood silently by, never speaking out against Lucius's cruelty or coldness? … And why had Draco never questioned it until now?
The knock on the door was soft, barely audible, but it served to pull him out of the spiral of doubt and confusion that consumed him. He didn't turn around. He knew who it was without evening needing to turn. She had a way of checking in on him, appearing with quiet concern even when he hadn't asked for it.
"Draco," his mother's voice drifted into the room, tentative, delicate as ever. "Are you alright?"
Draco closed his eyes for a moment, gripping the windowsill tightly and he sighed, his back still to her. The question hung in the air, thick with tension. It was a question she she had been asking more often lately, though he couldn't say why it grated on him now more than before. Maybe it was the quiet of the house, the oppressive weight of his father stares, or the impending return to school. Maybe it was the way his father seemed more distant, more preoccupied with his 'friends' since the Dark Mark appeared.
The truth was, he didn't know. He wasn't alright, but he didn't know how to explain why. He didn't know if he even could explain why. Everything felt wrong, but putting it into words felt impossible.
"Your father expects that you might want to visit your friends," she said, taking a cautious step into the room. "He suggested you go to see them before the term starts."
Draco turned his head slightly, catching her reflection in the glass. She stood in the doorway, her posture stiff, arms crossed delicately in front of her. Narcissa Malfoy always maintained an aura of calm, but there was something different about it now. He could see the concern in her eyes, even from across the room.
Draco let out a short, bitter laugh, finally turning around to face her. Anger flared up in his chest, hot and quick. "Of course, he would suggest that," Draco snapped, his voice colder than he intended. "Do what Father says, isn't that how it always goes?"
Narcissa's expression tightened, but she didn't flinch as she held her ground. Yet despite this she raised her eyebrows in confusion. "He only thought it might help you feel—"
He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him again, the same anger he had felt ever since that day—anger at his father, at himself. It was just there, simmering under the surface, without direction. But unfortunately his mother was the one who was there in front of him.
"Feel what?" Draco interrupted, his tone cutting. He stared directly at her, his face hardening as he took a step toward her. "Like everything's fine? Like nothing's changed?"
His mother's lips pressed into a thin line. "Draco, I'm only asking—"
"You're only asking because you have to, right?" he sneered, a poor imitation of the tone his father used so easily, he realized with a start. "Just like you always do. Always so dutiful. Always so quiet." The words tumbled out, spiteful and sharp, and for a moment, he almost enjoyed the way they hung between them, biting and bitter.
But then he saw her face.
Narcissa's expression faltered, and the pain in her eyes stopped Draco short. Mid-sentence, he froze, suddenly aware of what he was doing—how he sounded, how he was treating her. His mouth snapped shut, and he took a step back, heart hammering in his chest.
He had never spoken to her like that before. And he realized in that moment that he wasn't his father, no matter how much he tried to mimic him … he no longer wanted to be his father.
Draco shook his head, anger still boiling beneath his skin but now directed inward, self-loathing mixing with the guilt twisting in his gut. He turned away from her, facing the window again as if the bleak sky could offer any comfort.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Behind him, there was silence. For a long moment, his moher didn't say anything, didn't move. He could feel her hesitation, the way she lingered in the doorway, not knowing what to say. His apology had been clumsy, inadequate, but it was all he could offer.
He heard her shift, and out of the corner of his eye, saw her begin to turn toward the hallway, as if she might leave without another word.
But Draco couldn't let her leave like that.
"Mum," he said, stopping her.
She froze, one hand resting on the doorframe, her back to him.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, louder this time, more certain. His throat tightened. He wasn't sure why this was so hard, why he felt the need to hurt the only person who had ever consistently shown him kindness. "That was wrong. I shouldn't have said that."
Narcissa turned back toward him, her eyes soft but guarded. She took a few slow steps closer, but still remained near the door, as if she were unsure whether to comfort him or keep her distance. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Draco swallowed, feeling vulnerable under her gaze in a way that made him uncomfortable.
"Are you alright?" she asked again, her voice quieter now, as if treading carefully around his earlier outburst.
This time, Draco took a moment before answering. He didn't brush her off like before, didn't snap at her. Instead, he let the silence stretch out, actually take the time to consider her question properly. Was he alright?
He wasn't sure.
"I don't know," he said finally, his voice unsteady, almost reluctant.
Narcissa nodded, as if she had expected that. She always seemed to know more than she let on. "You don't have to have the answers right now," she said softly, taking another step toward him. "But you don't have to pretend, either. Not with me."
Draco looked at her, really looked at her this time. She was still the same—elegant, composed, her platinum blonde hair pinned neatly back, her robes pristine. But there was an understanding in her eyes, a kind of look that he hadn't noticed before. She had always been a pillar of quiet strength in his life, a steady presence in the chaotic world of the Malfoy family. But maybe he hadn't fully seen her the way she actually was, instead choosing to imitate his father's interactions with people.
"Are you going to visit your friends?" she asked after a long pause, her voice gentle, though the question seemed to carry more weight than it had before.
Draco let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. He thought of Crabbe and Goyle, the two lumbering shadows that had followed him since childhood when his father had introduced them. Always ready to agree with whatever he said, to laugh at his jokes, to back him up without question. But lately, even the idea of spending time with them felt hollow. They weren't friends in the way that others had friends—people like Greengrass and Davis or Potter, Weasley, and even Granger. Draco had seen the way they acted at the World Cup, the easy friendship, the way they stood by each other, and enjoyed their time, not because they had to, but because they actually wanted to.
It wasn't the same.
"I don't think I'm feeling like seeing them today," he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.
Narcissa nodded, her gaze softening. "That's fine," she said, her voice warm with understanding. "There will be time for that later if you want. You've had a lot on your mind this summer … especially lately." She paused, looking him over carefully, her eyes flicking over his face as if searching for signs of something deeper. "You're looking a little unwell, darling. Perhaps it's better you take some time to relax before the school year starts. I'll tell your father, do not worry."
Draco nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. He didn't know how to explain what he was feeling, or if he even fully understood it himself. It wasn't just about his father's expectations. It was something more—a growing sense of unease, a disconnection from the world he had always thought he belonged to.
"Thanks, Mum," he said quietly, unsure what else to say.
Narcissa smiled at him, a small, gentle smile. "Anything for you," she replied softly, her voice filled with a kind of tenderness that made Draco's chest ache.
She turned to leave, her footsteps soft as she crossed the room. For a moment, Draco watched her go, feeling a strange sense of loss. He wasn't used to these kinds of conversations, not with his parents. With his father, everything was orders and expectations, cold commands wrapped in veiled threats. But with his mother, there was something different—something he hadn't seen before—something softer, more human.
Just as she reached the door, Narcissa paused, turning back to look at him one last time.
"Draco," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "you don't have to carry everything on your own."
Draco swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to respond. He nodded and Narcissa gave him one last, lingering look before quietly slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Draco turned back to the window, staring out at the empty fields once again. But the restlessness in his chest didn't fade. If anything, it grew stronger. He felt like he was standing on the edge of something vast and uncertain, like the ground beneath him was shifting in ways he couldn't control.
For the first time in a long while, Draco Malfoy wasn't sure what the future held. And that terrified him.
Kind Regards,
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Story Note 1 – Another little Draco flashback to help build Draco's storyline. Obviously, this is a Harry-centric piece but there is still a part for Draco to play and hoping that these little interludes will help provide understanding for what is happening with Draco in the main story.
Story Note 2 – In this story I am writing Lucius a little more intense that I saw him actually in canon, however I believe that I am portraying Narcissa accurately as I think she would put up with anything to protect her son (reflected by lying to Voldemort when Harry told her about her son).
Story Note 3 – Looks like it's the start of Draco starting to separate himself from his 'friends'. Additionally, decided to have Draco realize that perhaps his 'friendship' with Crabbe and Goyle was perhaps not a real friendship the way others had friends. And chose to have hm realize that his father also perhaps didn't have friends either. An important factor in Draco's path.
Thanks to those of you out to those of you who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you enjoy them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or reach out to me directly.
Author Note 1 – All feedback is welcome (hopefully constructive!) Looking forward to what you think! Once again, thanks for all the reviews and feedback on this story, I'm pumped it has been well received. Obviously, I love people telling me they enjoy the chapters (keep it up if you do) but I really enjoy the constructive criticism as well. One of the earliest pieces of feedback I got was that Fred/George dialogue was rough – so as a result I changed it and really like the way it is coming across now (a sentiment that seems to be universally shared by everyone's' reviews as well). Also please continue to share ideas or requests as to things you wish to occur in the stories. I love the suggestions. And try to incorporate what I can.
Author Note 2 – I have started posting polls, having been getting really helpful feedback from some readers and thought I would make it easier for anyone to provide feedback on the stories they are liking without having to reach out directly. Thanks in advance for anyone who follows up.
Author Note 3 - To everyone who has come over from Ao3 welcome here! I am currently working on bringing my story in line with Ao3 ToS and have resubmitted the stories that had been flagged for review. Definitely understand that some people like reading on different sites so I'll be reposting back there as soon as I can. But in the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the stories here!
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Guest x 3, Hudy Leak613 - Thanks so much for the review and I hope you continue to enjoy the story going forward!
MarilynT - Congrats on catching up! Looking forward to your comments going forward!
Hands Off MY Wolfie - It was definitely an important conversation that needed to happen. And there will certainly be more little look ins on them going forward!
bahnannah - Everyone is awesome! I'm glad you enjoyed it and hope you keep enjoying it going forward!
shade656 - Horcrux hunt is about to start, just had another little interlude that was need that will be used to set up scene going forward. But off hunting next chapter! Thanks for the notes! I'll look over it and get that all sorted out!
Goofy ahh dude - Ya working on getting it back up. But in the meantime I hope you enjoy the chapters which will still be posted here.
Fenrir070 - Glad you liked that interlude and hope this one was as enjoyable! Haha the drawn out nonsense does get a little tiring and misunderstands causing hurt that just compouds just hurts ... once in a while if used lightly it works but seems to be overdone in media.
cameron1812 - Fleur does seem like more of the go-getter!
Monkey D. Conan - Well that does seem like something that might happen! I guess we shall see!
gigamans57 - I will try to keep the misunderstanding angst to a minimum! But I guess you are in for a treat!
