It was in the eight year that everything went downhill. What happened?
After the war, Hogwarts was reopened for students. Still repairing and healing from the war and destruction that took place.
Draco not being sure where he stood, was uncertain, scared. Where was his place in the world? With no family to depend on and no money to call his name, he was not sure how he would live and what he would do for a living.
His mother and father were sent to Azkaban. Sentenced to 20 years maybe less if they could get out on good behavior. He was acquitted, because someone spoke for him at his trial. They acknowledged his previous dubious behavior but also said that he had not caused any lasting damage and saved someone’s life in a great moment of importance.
He didn’t know what to feel about that.
All their properties and possessions seized by the Government for after-war repairing efforts. Draco with only some quid and a small property he rented by selling his belongings suddenly got the letter from Hogwarts asking if he would be attending the eight year to complete his schooling.
Draco with no plans and no hope for the future only had one goal in his mind when he agreed.
He had to say thank you to a person. He wanted to show gratitude to the only person who saw meaning in his now worthless life. Maybe he could find a reason to live from them.
1.
Arriving at Hogwarts was an unnerving experience. In slytherin him and only a dozen other people had returned. He wasn’t close to anyone else as his friends didn’t dare or care enough to come back to this school for another year. Blaise had moved abroad and Pansy was stuck at home, still reluctant to accept reality.
When he walked to the great hall, he was terrified. He kept his head down and didn’t say anything. Just went down and sat on the slytherin table where the feast had already started. He just looked. Looked at the mounds of food. He hadn’t been able to stomach more than a few bites since the last year or so, making him look even more skinny and gaunt compared to last year.But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He could hear people talking all around him. He could also hear his name, ‘Death eater’ and ‘Azkaban’ in the same sentence as well which could never bode well. But to keep his attention away from the whispers and staring, he piled up his plate and tried to force some food down.
It tasted like ash and he felt the need to vomit. Why did he come back here again? Why did he want to relive this? Why did he want to face this place where he had made the biggest mistakes of his life? Deep down he could feel himself replying that he deserved this, he deserved much worse, he couldn’t disagree.
So he refocused on his singular goal. He needs to see Harry again. Thank him for saving him and ask him, ‘Why’?
Maybe then he would tell that to the voice in his head. Maybe then he could fool himself into not hating his very existence. Lighten the load and the guilt of all the lives he helped destroy.
He knew not to hope much but he couldn’t help it. So he found himself trying to locate that one Gryffindor. That mop of hair he could recognise at a glance.
After looking stealthily twice and scanning the opposite table he finally saw him and stilled. There he was sitting down with his head lowered, munching on something and making conversation with Hermione and Ron. Both sitting on his left and right. It had been long since he last saw him. And saw him looking this still, calm, relaxed. It was something that almost made his eyes water.
At Least he was doing okay. He seemed to be living. He seemed to know what to do with his future and looked like someone who had earned the right to be happy.
He looked for several moments. Maybe seconds, maybe minutes. But Harry never looked up. Draco maybe hoped that he did.
2.
Classes started the next day. But everything seemed to be a blur, his headache was back. It started a few months ago. After not eating for 3 days straight when he collapsed and woke up on the floor, he realised it was all his own doing. It was fine.
He couldn’t sleep nowadays and when he lay awake, that dull pain made him hate himself even more, made him think that he should add a few more cuts on his arm to dull the pain*.
It never worked.
He attended lessons he couldn’t focus on, he went to classes even when he fell faint. Just because he could catch a glimpse of those green eyes for a few fleeting moments. Hoping that once more they would be staring back at him, hopefully with anything but disdain.
After several days of joint classes to make it more practical because of the less number of Eight year returnees, he decided that he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to talk to Harry. He had to see him and just, just ask him and rip the bandaid off, be done with the suffering, the bleak anticipation.
He knew it was too much pressure to put on someone who helped him, but he otherwise couldn’t feel like he could go on. Maybe after he came to terms with himself, he could decide on his own end or his new beginning.
He cornered Harry after he was coming back to the common room from somewhere. He was not surrounded by his friends this time as he often was. Many people from Gryfindor came back. They were all always together. Talking, laughing, sometimes crying and sharing war stories in the dead of night in the shared common room.
Draco more often than not was forgotten. In a corner, sitting still as a corpse. Silent. Maybe he was so silent that people just didn’t notice him. But this guess was refuted with some curses finding his way now and then. The shout of “Death Eater” , “Murderer” and other things was very commonplace for him now, he even found it tame as compared to how people addressed him outside.
But his bed being trashed many nights, his curtains torn or stuff stolen was a bit of an inconvenience. He couldn’t really ask someone to owl him a replacement anymore. He was alone and penniless after all. But nevertheless it was inconsequential. He deserved much worse, and he already put himself to much worse.
But he still cornered Harry. He called out “Potter-”
Harry looked to be in a hurry. Hands in his robes, he was not looking at him. He spoke in a harsh and loud tone
“What Malfoy?”
“Um, I just wanted to talk to you for a bit-”
He looked irritated at that, his eyes darting around a bit impatient
“You thought I couldn’t tell? With the way you have been staring at me everyday I think even a fool could tell that. So take the hint, just stop hovering around me all the time.”
Now Potter seemed irked, his eyes landing directly on him, the green too green to directly look into. Why was he looking at him like that? That is how everyone looks at him. But Potter would too?
“Wha-I Um, I just wanted to say Thank you.”
He blurted out quickly. He understood why Harry thought he was stalking him but he just had to say it.
“Have you completely lost your mind? I mean I could guess that something was wrong with you with how dead you look on your feet but now you are saying ‘Thank You’ to ME? “
“And to what did I owe the resident death eater the pleasure?”
Ouch. That was, that made his eyes sting a bit. Yeah he was right to say that but Draco still didn’t avert his eyes and looked straight at Harry Potter. He was getting breathless and had trouble breathing but he had to say his piece here. Or he could never muster the courage again.
“I, I just wanted to thank you for speaking up to me at my trial. I know you had no reason to, but you saved me from being sent to Azkaban. I owe you a lot. And I know this cannot compensate much but I just wanted to say it and- and also ask why”
Draco asked and hoped that his tone didn’t sound too hopeful at the end there.
Why did he want to save him? Did he still think that Draco was worth something? Was it worth him staying alive even after everything he did, voluntarily and without his choice? Did he deserve a second chance?
Turns out. Maybe not.
“Wow. I think you are a bit over your head there. I never asked for your charges to be dropped. In fact I wanted to ask them to give you the harshest sentence. But I guess you didn’t actually know that it was your mother who saved you from going to Azkaban”
Harry looked disgusted now, he was looking somewhere far away as if remembering something and then as if repulsed by the memory he started scowling.
“I was wondering how you could always get away with it. But I suppose your mother did help me out. She pleaded with me to testify in your favor and lighten your punishment. “
Draco could hear his heart thudding in his years, his blood ran cold. What? His mother pleaded for him? She was the one who helped Harry out? What did she do?
But Harry kept going on. He probably wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that he ever thought that Malfoy could ever be capable of redemption. He seemed determined to snuff out any hope for himself that he may have deluded himself to.
“On the final night, when I went to the Forbidden Forest where Voldemort was. I was ready to die and then the Killing spell was cast. Your mother was there, Voldemort asked her to check if I was dead. She did. But she lied.
She lied for the sake of knowing her son’s whereabouts, she asked if you were alive and when I nodded yes, She informed Voldemort that I had died.”
He was not scowling anymore. A reluctant expression on his face. As if accepting something and coming to terms with it.
“Then she came to visit me before your family’s trial. She asked me to plead for you. I wasn’t willing. But she said that If I could testify for you then I would not have to speak for anything at her trial.
She wanted to accept your punishment for you. I didn’t agree at first. But she would not listen otherwise. Now here you are-”
Draco couldn't hear anymore, he just kept staring at Potter’s face. Why? Was, was his mother in Azkaban to save him? Was he here, standing free, when his mother had to live out her days in constant agony just because her son was a big disgrace?
He was clenching his fists tightly, enough to draw blood just so he wouldn't cry in front of Harry. Just to not break down right there and then.
He didn’t realize that he was already turning back, running to his dorm room, drawing the tattered curtains. He only came back to himself when he was shuddering with tears, tearing at his hair with one hand while he had his sharp dinner knife in his other hand.
He kept this hidden, under his bed covers. He wouldn’t admit to it, but he also couldn’t help what he did to himself every night. Sometimes the numbness brought by pain and bloodlessness was the only way he could sleep.
Now that blade was already close to his wrist. Not above the Dark Mark where he usually exerted his force. But today he couldn’t stop himself and let it cut, cut and then cut deeper. He was looking at the now pooling blood on the side of his bed. His wrist stretched out, as he was watching in avid concentration at the falling red color.
Drip, Drip.
Would his mother forgive him? If even Potter who was meant to forgive everyone couldn’t even look at him without turning green?
Drip.
Would he ever be able to look at her again in the eyes and not want to carve out his own for the audacity.
It was a while later when he was lying horizontally, feeling incredibly sleepy that he heard some movement outside his bed. It seemed like someone had woken up. He tiredly stretched his other hand and cast a healing spell to stop the bleeding.
Maybe he still had a purpose. Because for whatever reason, Potter did help him. And if he couldn’t live for himself, couldn’t live for his family. Then maybe he could see another day for him.
He couldn’t get up from bed the next day, too physically and mentally torn up to muster any strength. But no one seemed to notice. He had 3 other Slytherins in his dorm room but no one bothered with the gloomy Death Eater.
He laid in bed for 2 straight days before crawling out because he couldn’t endure anymore pain and hunger.
It was half past 10, the dinner was already over. He was planning to go to the kitchens and maybe try his luck to get any leftovers if the house elves let him have any.
He very simply bandaged up his horrifying wrist, the motion of the bandage rolling around his arm was well practiced by now and then he dressed up in a simple pair of shirt and pants.
He was on his way to the common room when he saw him again. Harry Potter was there sitting in an armchair alone and just looking out at the fire. Bored or thinking vacantly about something when he heard his footsteps.
He looked up and their eyes met.
Green met Dull Grey. And they stayed on, Harry was looking up at him with open annoyance.
Draco found himself choked up. He had picked up his pieces just days ago. *Decided to live to be of use for Potter, maybe help him or redeem himself. And here he was faced with him again. He didn’t feel ready but he wanted to say something. Wanted to say something to let his thoughts, his desperation be known.
He dragged his feet slowly to the vacant armchair near Harry. Sat himself down, the cushion slightly being pushed down with his weight.
Harry was looking straight at him, annoyed and looking a bit unsettled for some reason.
Draco stared back. He was quickly thinking what he could do for Harry now. Now that he had him in front of him. Is his life useful to him? Harry had used his wand, which was already returned, so maybe that wasn’t of use to him anymore.
Money? Well not that he had that anymore.
Maybe. Then maybe his body?
It had been a few days, Draco found himself following Harry more and more. Harry seemed to notice but didn’t acknowledge him.
Then one night Draco saw Harry come back to the Common room, It was late at night. Draco was sitting in front of the fire when he noticed him.
His lips were bitten, reddish and swollen. Did he come back after snogging Ginny somewhere? Maybe.
Then they looked at each other. After a few seconds Harry seemed to decide something and strode towards him.
“Come with me” He said, as a command. “You wanted to thank me right? I think I know a way you could help me now”
What? Now? How could Draco help him?
Nevertheless, Draco found himself already standing on unsteady feet. Following Harry who was already going out of the common rooms.
They maintained a distance of around 5 meters while walking. Draco tried to catch up but his body was too tired and Harry was walking too fast.
When they finally stopped. Draco recognised the Hallways in a second. The Room of requirement.
His breath caught in his throat. Why here? He hadn’t been able to bring himself to this part of the castle since he returned. He was already plagued with the nightmares of fire, falling and fear. That was the last time he saw Greg. It was here. Would he find his burnt corpse here?
Will he trap him here? For failing to protect him?
Harry didn’t seem to notice anything about Draco. The door appeared in front of him and he walked in.
Throwing back in a forced voice “Get in”
Draco went inside. It was a different layout. A simple bed in the middle. Enough to fit two people. Bare of any decorations it seemed to be made for a simple purpose.
And now Draco understood what he was needed for. Harry was frustrated, pent up. Draco seemed to be a timely replacement.
Harry was rough. Draco was on the bottom. He thought he would be as Harry seemed to think of him as a replacement for Ginny, the smaller Weasley.
It was Draco’s first time, and when he was entered without any preparation he teared up. Draco was pushed face down on the bed. Harry’s hand around his neck, tight so he couldn’t make a sound.
Before he could adjust Harry started moving. Rough and deep thrusts until he was coming into him, releasing all his pent up stress. And with a grunt he was off him.
Draco fainted. He woke up some time later, alone and bruised. He seemed to be bleeding and teared up from his hole as well.
Trying to clean up his dried tears with little success, he put on his clothes and exited the room. Not willing to spend an extra second there.
At Least now he had a purpose. Harry needed him. Whatever may the reason be.
This went on for several nights, Harry would give him a look and lead him to the Room of requirements. Fuck him a few times and leave Draco tattered from the inside and out.
Draco didn’t want to admit it. But it hurt. It hurt a lot. He was used to his body being in pain. But now his heart seemed to be in pain as well.
He was eating even less. His eyes hollowed out. He refused to rest most nights and other nights he would follow Harry according to his wishes.
He was finally atoning. He was finally of use. Harry helped him, now he could help him in return.
But it still hurt. He saw Harry in the mornings, Eating at the dinner table with his best friends and Ginny. They looked at each other and smiled. Happy, they looked happy to be with each other, they looked to be in love.
Harry placed a loving kiss on her lips. He had never kissed him the many times they had been together. He never would.
That night he cut himself a bit deeper. And he could pretend that fainting from blood loss was sleep.
Harry was coming back from shopping. He rarely shopped for himself. But this particular occasion required him to give his best. He was going to propose. He had decided.
Ginny was the one for him. He had been in love with her for some time and she was perfect for him. She felt natural to him. She smiled sweetly and always seemed happy around him.
They hadn’t gone all the way. Harry had decided that he would save that for after when he finally proposed.
That didn’t mean that he was a virgin. He was fucking Malfoy on the side. But Malfoy seemed keen with his own twisted idea to repay him.
So Harry let’s him. He should be happy, Harry couldn’t bring himself to look at him most days now.
Earlier it used to be easy to catch his eyes. There was just so much hatred. He still hates him, he hates how he gets on his nerves, he hates that he thinks that Harry owes him something. And he especially hates seeing him with that look in his eyes.
That was not Malfoy. There was something weird about him now. He seemed to always be somewhere far away. Like he was drifting somewhere out of reach.
So Harry did the only thing he knew how to. He fucked him harder, he was rougher and held him within his grasp until he couldn’t hear his cries.
But it still left him unsettled. Still left him feeling frustrated.
He’s nothing but a side fuck for him. And now; now he’ll be with the love of his life. He doesn’t need him anymore.
He hoped that Malfoy would stop looking at him with those eyes. He hoped he would stop looking at him completely.
Malfoy was in his bed. He had passed out the night before. But now his Dorm mates were talking about something when he woke up. They were too loud.
Were they talking about him again? Was he about to be hexed again?
He hoped not, he didn’t have the energy. But no what they were talking about was even more despairing.
Harry had proposed to Ginny. Ginny had said yes.
Harry had proposed? They would get married?
Draco didn’t know what to think. His eyes went black for a moment and he almost picked up the dinner knife under his pillow again.
Does that mean Draco could never be with him again? Was his use completely exhausted for Harry now? What should he do?
Tears were dripping down his eyes. He rarely cried anymore. He didn’t cry under painful hexes, didn’t cry when Harry choked him in bed every other night. He didn’t cry thinking about his parents.
But now a wretched cry makes his way out of his throat. He stumbles out of the bed and runs to the nearest bathroom. He doesn’t care about the many stares. He doesn’t care about people calling him a death eater along the way.
He barely registers it.
Now he was vomiting his almost empty stomach into the toilet. Tears and bile mixing and flowing.
So it turns out I was the wrong person to save. His life only had this limited value. Harry would never look for him again, his green eyes would’nt look for him in the crowd. And Draco, the worthless existence that he was will be drowned out.
Days went by in a blur. He saw a party in the common room. Celebrating and congratulating the couple. They only had eyes for each other. Shining under the praises and well wishes.
Draco didn’t know what he was thinking. Maybe he had stopped thinking of anything at all.
He only stared at Harry. Unblinking.
He never looked back at him.
Lucy was making her way back to the Eight year dorm rooms after the drinking party. She lost count of how many there had been. The Gryffindors always found one reason or the other to start drinking. But nowadays it was always to celebrate Harry Potter and Ginny Waesely. It was understandable. Such a monumental occasion, The Daily Prophet had covered it for a week straight after catching a whiff of the news.
‘The Chosen One Ties the Knot’, ‘The Romantic escapades of the Chosen One’ everything was filled with their names and their legendary love in the times of war.
She was happy for them.
As she almost reached the steps up her room, she remembered a less happier thing though. Draco Malfoy. He was in the room beside hers. Why did the Death Eater have to come back?
He was always moping around the castle looking gloomy, with his sunken face and hunched shoulders. Like he had the right to be sad, what about all the suffering he caused?
She hoped that he would receive the consequences of his actions. So she turned a blind eye. Whenever someone locked him in an empty classroom. Poured some foul smelling potion on him or hexed him. She supposed that she was providing a kind of mercy by not laughing along.
He didn’t even attend any classes today. Not that it was unusual for him. He was often absent from the morning lessons. But a day seemed a bit too much for him.
Did someone lock him in his room this time?
She cast a curious glance over and found the door slightly pushed open. Peering inside the beds were empty. All four. But you could tell at a glance which one Draco slept in.
The curtains were slashed and the sheets were stained a dark dried red.
It looked like a crime scene. Did he kill someone?
Looking down at the blanket on the floor she stepped forward nervously.
She saw a barefoot peeking on the floor beside the bed. And she took another step forward. When the scene fell into her eyes. She screamed.
End….
It was too late when the body was rushed to the infirmary the corpse was already cold. Wrists cut and the bone showing. Eyes hollow and the person malnourished. It was Draco Malfoy. The hated Death Eater.
But no one rejoiced.
Afterward :
A small funeral was held. Draco was buried in a public cemetery with no one to claim his graves and no family plot to call his own. He got a single Grey rose, and a single person who stood there for ten minutes and then walked away hurriedly, as if running away from something.
‘No one saved him’ Maybe in his next life, Draco could start over. Maybe in his next life he will be buried with someone who he loved and someone who loved him .
The end.