Chapter 2 : Changes
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Draco sighed and tried to put it out of his mind. After all, didn’t this happen every night?
His mind started drifting, and before he could stop it, he found himself wondering what she saw in Weasley.
He glanced at the clock and realized it was later than he had thought. He made his way towards his room, stopping in his tracks before he was halfway there.
“What the -” he said, as he caught sight of the mess. Whatever the items had been originally were practically unrecognizable.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice saying, "A smart one, that witch. Didn't want anyone to know what she was doing. Muffled the sound of everything going every which way. Ha ha, which way, witch, get it?"
The painting on the wall never failed to try and joke each and every night. He was usually able to ignore it, but this time, he knew it was right.
He shook his head. It was just like her, to muffle the sounds of her throwing things everywhere.
“Reparo,” he whispered, with a flick of his wand, and things started to heal themselves.
He repeated with scourgify to help clean what reparo was unable to help.
After everything had put itself together, he stared into space for a moment, just wondering what could have caused her to do anything this drastic. Especially since he had noticed the books that had been lying on the floor, out of their covers. Under any normal circumstances, she never would have done anything like that, at least not to books.
With a sigh, he headed toward his room once again. Though this time, on the way, he could hear muffled crying, sounding as though it was coming from the bathroom.
She remember to put a muffilioto charm on the kitchen, but forgot to put it on herself, he thought to himself, shaking his head. Typical.
There was just something about the sobs he heard that made him pause. They weren't normal, regular crying. It was as though someone was putting all of their soul into their tears.
"Are you alright in there?"
He tapped louder.
The only answer he got this time was louder sobs.
He flicked his wand and light flashed as the door creaked open.
She was huddled on the floor, sobs racking her body.
He paused for a moment, not really sure what to do.
It should have disturbed him greatly, to have compassion for other people's feelings, but it didn’t, however. Which felt strange, but at the same time, it was almost as though a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.
He felt as though he had been run over by a truck. Wait a minute, he thought. What the bloody hell was a truck? Why did that word even come to mind? He shook his head and figured he’d try to figure that out later.
He opened his eyes slowly and looked around him. Where was he?
He started to focus more on his surroundings, and he vaguely remembered seeing this place before, and hearing it called Hogwarts. Why did that name seem to be so important?
It didn’t look like much, he thought. Like it had been through a war or something -
Then it came back to him. Hogwarts was the school that he had been attending for the past few years.
Then there had been a war. A war that he wished that he didn’t have to remember, and there were many parts of it that he couldn’t remember. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
Bits and pieces of what had happened started coming back to like sudden surges of lightening, and none of it was pretty.
He remembered crouching in a corner, hidden by a column of the wall, peering to the other side to see what was going on. He remembered seeing his mother cast aside with a stunning spell like a piece of garbage by the one they all called The Dark Lord. Or Voldemort. Or He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. Or You-Know-Who. The list went on. It was at that moment that he saw his father do something that no one would have expected him to do.
He had rushed over to his fallen wife, and was completely outraged as he pulled her into his arms. His face, which had usually help such a look of support toward The Dark Lord, turned to a look of disgust, the look that he usually reserved for those that he felt beneath him. Mud-bloods. Muggles. House elves. And of course, Harry Potter.
“How could you?” he asked, staring him straight in the face, for the very first time ever.
Voldemort just stared right back and started laughing.
“Very simply. Like this,” he said, pointing his wand.
Green light flashed, striking Lucius straight in the chest. Since he was holding onto Narcissa, the impact of the hit was thrust upon her as well, and since she had been stunned previously, there was no hope for her.
Draco tried to shut the images from his mind.
He looked at all of the beds around the room, seeing all of the different people lying in the beds and all of their friends and loved ones, and for the first time, realized that he was alone. Utterly, totally, completely alone.
He lifted himself up slightly, resting on his elbows and looked at the bed that was straight across from him.
Harry Potter was laying in that bed, surrounded by, at least it seemed like, everyone who had survived, that wasn’t lying in bed themselves.
The remaining Weasley’s were standing there, as well as Hermione Granger, and loads of other classmates, friends, teachers, everyone.
What is it about him? He thought. Why does everyone love him so much? Draco fought back the urge to sneer.
Then he remembered. Harry had saved his life.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he screamed as Harry grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down just in the nick of time to avoid a flying killing curse.
“Saving your life,” Harry said, with a crooked grin.
“Why?” He couldn’t believe that he even asked it, but it was out before he had a chance to change his mind.
“Good, or bad, you’re still a person.”
He fell back against the pillows and shut his eyes. Maybe he was a person, but it wasn’t like it was doing him any good.
“Malfoy?” a familiar voice whispered a few moments later. “Are you awake?”
“Who wants to know?” he retorted, barely opening one eye.
“Give it up, Malfoy, there’s no one around who cares to be impressed.”
That voice could belong to no one other than Harry Potter. The boy who lived. The boy who… the boy who saved his life.
“Why’d you do it? Huh? Was it so that you’d be able to finish me off yourself later, when there was no one around to save me?”
“As much as you have infuriated me, Malfoy, I didn’t think you deserved an end like that.”
“Why not? It’s not like there’s anyone left to care whether I’m dead or alive. My parents are dead, my aunts and uncles and cousins are dead, my friends are dead. I should be dead too,” he practically spat out like it tasted bad.
Mrs. Weasley appeared by his side in an instant, popping on the head with her wand.
“Don’t you DARE say that, Draco Malfoy! Don’t you know lucky you are to be alive? After all, there are others who aren’t as… aren’t’ t as…” she trailed off, unable to finish because she was crying so hard.
Mr. Weasley led her away, and Hermione jumped in.
“She just lost her son, Draco. Have some compassion.”
This time, I didn’t do anything, he thought.
She was practically up in his face, mere inches away.
“What? Going to finish the hex you started back in third year? Be my guest.”
The blow that came after that definitely did not feel good. He raised his hand to his cheek, trying to stop the sting.
“You could never change,” she hissed out. “No Malfoy ever could, or would.”
She walked away and he could only stare after her.
He felt Harry put his hand on his shoulder and glanced over, almost shrugging it off by instinctive reaction.
“I meant what I said before,” he said, staring across the room.
“What? That I didn’t deserve and end like that?”
“No. Way before. The fact that whether you’re good, or bad, or whatever you are, you’re still a person.”
For the first time in ages, Draco was actually able to smile.
“I guess that could go for you, too, Potter.”
Harry smiled and shook his head. Many things had changed, many lives were lost and things wouldn’t and couldn’t ever be the same. But there were some things, like Draco Malfoy’s attitude that would probably never change.
*End of Flashback*
They were wrong, he thought. Draco Malfoy did change. And it felt good.
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