His parents left him pretty much alone after the St. Mungo's incident. His mother just made sure he ate and Draco was glad she was there.

His father never spoke with him about his new teacher as intended, apparently having forgotten all about it in the chaos. Apart from that, Draco only had gotten a lecture on his suggestion to get a therapist and therefore embarrassing his father in front of the healers. Draco already knew what Lucius had to say about Umbridge anyway. His father wanted him to stay on good terms with her. Meaning, follow her rules, do her biddings and terrorise the other children to stay in her good graces. Draco dreaded the mere idea. When Draco thought of meeting her in the great hall, he felt sick. He HATED this woman. Back then, he had admired her. Now, she reminded him of Bellatrix in some abstract, twisted way.

It was going to be Draco's fifth year. He had made prefect and Quidditch captain. Which he had completely forgotten about until his mother put the pins on his school uniform. A uniform that was suddenly a little big on him. Losing 8 pounds in two weeks was a lot. In every reality. Be it muggle or wizarding world.

Then the day approached when he was sent off by his parents on the Hogwarts train. His mother had made a bigger fuss than usual, for obvious reasons and reminded him to talk to Severus whenever he felt sick again. In fact, she wanted him to talk to him as soon as they arrived. She claimed to have sent him an owl, with a no doubt in depth description of his affliction. Draco had let her, too stunned by the idea that he would see Severus again.

Severus Snape was alive. Not a poisoned, dead body with tear stains on his cheeks, lying forgotten in a dark corner of the battlefield. That was a thought that had surprisingly not been at the forefront of his mind, although it was now very hard to escape it.

Additionally, Draco hadn't intended to avoid his old (also supposed to be dead or insane) friends in the train, but since he was now prefect, along with Pansy Parkinson, he found himself holed up with all the other prefects anyway.

Granger and Weasley were among them, of course. Last time, Draco had been furious to see them and then made fun of Potter to cope with that fact. Potter was usually the one Dumbledore favoured among the students. And Draco had revelled in the knowledge that Dumbledore had trusted Draco with a responsibility he had for once not bestowed on Potter. This once at least.

Dumbledore, right. That man was alive, too. Another face Draco dreaded to see. Probably more even than Snape or Vincent. No wonder, considering the circumstances on how they'd last met.

Draco sat there and didn't listen to the prefect instructions. He didn't care. He had known his duties last and still not followed them. It had had zero repercussions.
Pansy tried to talk to him, but he ignored her, too. Instead, he closed his eyes and found the steady rhythm of the train soothing him to sleep. That in itself was a surprise. But he could guess why he felt safe here. Hogwarts may have been the place where the war had been, but it was also the place where it had ended. And the trains, save for a mild interruption by Dementors in their third year, had always been safe for him.

In his hollow dreams he saw Potter in the arms of the gameskeeper. Hagrid was his name? He often dreamed of that moment. Of his own soul leaving his body as he saw the corpse of the chosen one in the crying arms of a man Draco used to make fun off. But Hagrid had been by Potter's side when he'd died. Draco hadn't. And Draco had only been alive because of Harry that he could see that moment. Ours apart, their certain deaths had been and still, neither of them had truly been dead. Draco had been told about the prophecy, of course. A vague version of it. And because of it, because only one could live and Voldemort had still been standing, at that moment, all hope had been lost.

Until Neville held his speech about legacy and courage. Until Neville beheaded the snake and Harry fucking Potter rose from the dead like Voldemort hadn't cast avada fucking kedavra on him. And then Potter had defeated him. Killed him, without ever casting a curse himself. He had killed Voldemort with Draco's wand and his famous 'expiliarmus'. The same wand that remained untouched in Draco's own cape right now. He could never look at it the same. He still used magic, of course. Not using it made wizards sick, he knew that, but he couldn't help but feel repulsed by the thing that used to be an extension of himself. He'd get used to it, surely, but holding it felt like a Vampire trying to get used to the sunlight.

Potter had stood among the survivors, glasses sitting crooked on his nose. He had been bleeding from a new wound where the death curse had hit him in the chest, as his mother later told him. Smiling that brilliant smile as if he couldn't believe so many of his friends were still alive. Couldn't believe it was over. And who could in that moment? He'd never seemed happier, never more heroic and innocent and hope inducing as he had been in that moment.

Something sharp knocked him awake. It turned out to be Pansy's elbow. "Draco!", Pansy whispered displeased. "You're drooling."

Draco wiped his mouth and looked around. Weasley and Granger were pointing at him and Weasley was probably taking to memory what he had just witnessed. Nothing could embarrass Draco Malfoy more than drooling in public, apparently. Teenagers.

Pansy fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Good dream?" It was a mix of displeasure and amusement that Draco could read from her tone.

Draco supposed it was true. The end of the war was a good dream. One of his better ones for sure. "You could say that."

She grinned. "Oh come on, Draco. Who was it about? You were smiling in you sleep." She winked.

'I was?' He blinked at her. Unsure how to answer that. He had fucking shadows under his eyes because he couldn't sleep more than two hours at night. He was so thin and pale that his father had been this close to sending him back to St. Mungo's instead of Hogwarts!

"Potter.", he deadpanned staring right at her. He could tell the two thirds of the golden trio had heard him, because they were suddenly silent and listening very intently.

Pansy's mouth made an 'oh' shape, as her expression changed from lewd to wicked. Then she grinned even further. "Oh? And, what exactly happened in that dream?"

It was probably meant to sound like Draco had cursed him in his sleep or something like that. Draco marvelled at how strange that idea sounded to him now. He had been like that. Before. He'd actually used every moment, every memory and every dream into something to embarrass or at least complain about Potter. He'd been pathetic, how did he only notice it now? He snorted.
For her, however? For Pansy it was sad and Draco wished with a heavy heart that she were different. Their fifteen year old selves had been so full of glorious ideas to join the war and kill the chosen one. And perhaps it was the irony of it all, the utter ridiculousness what made Draco claw at the relative innocent innuendo. What did it matter anyway? The Golden trio was fun to mess with, and Pansy even more so, considering who her family was, what harm could it do? So Draco threw all self preservation out of the train window and picked up the most flirtatious voice he could muster in his current state.
"Well, I can tell you that Potter was very skilled with his wand." He winked. At her expression, Draco had to really hold himself back. "Technically it was MY wand he was skilled with, but the result remains the same."

It was bloody hilarious. Pansy was staring at him with an open mouth so horrified, it was only topped by Weasley, and Granger's shriek.

Draco couldn't breathe from holding in his laughter. Hell, he hadn't laughed in forever. He really shouldn't be holding it back but it was too good to pass up the opportunity. He needed to appear serious. Only for a little while. Only when Pansy finally screamed: "What???" did he burst into a full on laughing fit. It upset the weak muscles around his stomach, but he couldn't stop. Damn, maybe he really was fifteen again. Or overcompensating. Or both.

"You should see your face." Draco wiped off a tear and tried to blink away the black dots from before his eyes. His anaemia was showing, but he was sitting down, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem.

"Merlin, Draco, I was really worried about you!" She probably still was, according to that horrified look in her eyes.

For a moment, Draco was sure she would whack him on the head, but she never had and wouldn't now either. It was considered improper in pureblood circles. Draco kind of wished she would. But she had always thought him too mature for such jokes. Funnily enough, he had only been that mature because of his father. Now, he didn't really care anymore. His look went from the laugh to a nostalgic sadness.
He should have enjoyed his childhood more. Instead of trying so hard to be an adult, he should have just been himself before the war took it all away. He looked out the window and took note that they weren't even close to Hogwarts. He turned to Pansy again. This time more serious. "Why did you wake me up?" Perhaps revenge had played a part in it.

She rolled her eyes. "As I said, you were drooling. It was an unseemly sight." She shut down, crossing her arms, insulted by his humour.

Draco sighed. "Hmm." He considered. "And how long was I out?" He felt refreshed.

"About five hours."

He twitched a smile. "Huh." That was more than he had slept all week. He nestled back into the seat and leaned his face on his hand against the cold window. He looked over to see Granger and Weasley talking and pretty much arguing with one another over his earlier joke. (And probably complain about his lack of paying attention during the lecture. Granger hated tardiness.) Well, technically, he hadn't said a single wrong thing about his dream. It's not his fault that they were so easily distracted. Potter HAD used Draco's wand. That was just a fact that sounded wrong when spoken out loud. Oh, he should say that to Potter's face once he saw him again.

Heck, he was going to see Potter again. The thought was oddly sobering.

Potter may be a hero, but Draco didn't like that he owed him his life. It was a crushing feeling and it had made it impossible to ever thank him in his past life. He only wanted to stay away as far as possible. And perhaps mess with him like he used to, without the weight of the war between them. He craved that normalcy. That casual nonsense atmosphere that had been between them until that fateful sixth year, when Draco had broken Potter's nose on the train. The same year Potter had found him panicking in the bathroom with Myrte. The same year Draco had tried to use the cruciatus on Potter, because he was the only person he had foolishly thought it would work on. And had gotten cursed by Potter himself when it didn't. His old body had scars from that encounter. His current one hadn't. The atmosphere between them had been broken from that day on and Draco had been nothing but a pity case to Potter after. Potter may have reverted back to his former self who still saw Draco as someone to simply hate, but Draco was different now. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't go back to that.

"Hey Granger." Draco called out to her, before he even knew what he was saying. She looked at him, ready to scratch his eyes out as usual. Well, usual since third grade, when she had punched him in the face. It had been a good punch. Totally deserved, in hindsight.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" It was Weasley who answered, because of course he always protected his wife. Clearly not wife at the moment. Girlfriend?

"Have either of you seen Longbottom?"

Granger's eyes narrowed even further. "And what do you want with Neville?"

Draco paused. Right. He didn't suppose they would understand. "I owe him something. I'd like to know where he is." Everything was true. No one would ever believe him. It naturally made both of them super wary. Draco stood up, pretty much regretting it once he saw those black dots again. They disappeared soon enough for him to feel safe. He really should have taken that potion this morning. "In fact, I think I'm going to search for him. I suppose you would want to come, in case I hex him or something?"

The two shared a look. Pansy gritted her teeth. "Draco, what are you doing?"

"Pansy, stay here. I'll be back." Not that he cared to. He turned around without waiting for either of them. He knew that both Granger and Weasley would probably be startled that he decided to go anywhere on his own. He used to be framed by his friends after all. He heard both of Potter's friends follow him slowly and warily.

Technically, they weren't supposed to leave the prefect wagon until the instructions were finished, but there was a certain break they were given and that one appeared to be now and quite frankly, Draco didn't care much about his own life anyway. So he walked down the train and peaked in every wagon, until he found the one that Longbottom occupied. As he had walked in a fast pace, it was only now that Weasley grabbed his shoulder to stop him. And Granger had pulled out her own wand to point it at him. Welp, his life hadn't been very pleasant, he hoped she'd be quick. He looked at the wand, acknowledged its existence and opened the wagon door anyway before she could start asking him questions.

There he found Potter, Lonbottom and Lovegood turning very quickly to stare at him. Draco's eyes met Lovegood's for but a moment before the manor dungeons flashed in his mind. He blinked himself awake as Longbottom stood up. Potter, however, saviour of all in need, placed himself between them. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco blinked at him. "I would like to talk to Longbottom for a moment."

"Why would you let him come here?" Potter asked his friends, a little warmth returning to his ice cold gaze, though sounding irritated and accusing.

"We tried.", Weasley said half heartedly, surely because their attempts had been half hearted. "He's usually a coward, I thought he would react to threats, but he didn't."

Draco supposed there was truth to that. He HAD always confronted them only when he was surrounded by his bodyguards. It didn't make him look trustworthy now, did it? So, he decided to pick his wand from his uniform and handed it, handle first, to Potter. Potter wrongly mistook the gesture for an attack and quickly pulled his own wand.

"Don't be silly. Take it." Draco rolled his eyes and poked Potter's hand with it. Hesitantly, Potter took the wand and shared a glance with his friends. For a moment, Draco looked at the wand in Potter's hand. More memories flashed in his mind. "May I now talk with Longbottom. Alone, please." Potter kept staring at him, forcing Draco to actually continue. "I'm unarmed, Potter. I know I look dashing and all that, but you know I can't actually throw a punch. Luna can stay as a chaperone, if that makes you feel better."

"But -" Potter's mouth was agape.

"It's fine." Finally, Longbottom spoke up and the golden trio shared suspicious glances. "I'm not afraid of him," he insisted, puffing out his chest and physically braced himself. That seemed to surprise them enough to get out. The door closed behind them and Draco was finally alone with Neville (and Luna). The others were chatting with each other in the hallway though. Draco wanted to sit down, but remained standing while Longbottom took his seat back.

Luna hummed. "You seem depressed." Blunt as ever.

Draco smiled at that. "No whackspurts to detect this time, Luna?"

'You seem depressed. Your head is full of whackspurts. You should feed them, or else they will build a nest there,' is what she had said back then. In the dungeons. Draco used to wonder whether it had been the torture or her nature that made her like this. He did admire her, either way. She grinned at him, knowingly. She always looked knowing, although all she said was complete horseshit.

"You know Luna?", Neville asked, sounding mistrusting.

"From a dungeon cell. And the torture chamber.", Draco admitted and nodded at him, not needing to explain what he was referring to.

Neville needed a moment, then he blanched as he realised Draco was still on about that. He turned serious. "What do you want?"

Draco put a hand against the wall to steady himself. "I wanted to thank you. For what you said in the Hospital." Neville's eyes widened. "You made me realise I still have a chance to make this right. And that got me out of the hospital. So, thank you."

"That's why you came here? To thank me?"

Draco nodded, then hesitated. "Yes, but... That's not all. I wanted to ask, if I could come for advise again. Don't get me wrong. I understand that what I ask is a lot. Me asking it from you, that is. I just figured I'm shit at being on the good side. And I could need some help."

"And so you ask me." Neville looked surprised. "Shouldn't you ask Harry?"

"Do you want me to ask Potter?"

"I just want to know, why me? I'm not even smart or strong or anything. Harry has faced a basilisk in our second year! And You Know Who in first year and last year again! I can't even cast an expiliarmus! I doubt myself all the time. Why would you ask me for advise?"

Draco stared at him for a moment, needing to register what the hell he was on about. The he remembered that Neville hadn't really grown into the handsome warrior he would become after - after this year, actually. "Well, funny you ask. As I recall, the one who confronted the Dark Lord, when everyone thought Potter was dead, was you. It was you who pulled Griffindor's sword from the talking hat and killed Nagini. Potter may be the hero in the end, but he wouldn't have come that far without you. Don't sell yourself short, you're just as righteous as he is. Dumbledore himself acknowledged your courage in first year, remember? 'It's hard to stand in your enemies way, but even harder to stand in your friend's way,' or something like that. So I don't see a reason why I shouldn't ask you. I couldn't even confront my own father at the time. And he's as much a coward as I am." Draco made offhanded gestures, but he really wanted Longbottom to understand.

Longbottem frowned. "You're messing with me." He was bordering on disbelief again, as if Draco had said something horrendous. Or maybe it was just too hard to believe.

"'No' is an option. I'll accept it, if that's what you decide on." Draco held his gaze, while Luna slurped on a strangely pink looking juice in her hand, watching and listening silently to their conversation.

"Then no.", said Neville after struggling with the answer.

Draco nodded, feeling disappointed, albeit not surprised. "Alright." He took another breath. "Thank you. For... listening." He turned awkwardly on his heel and grabbed for the door handle.

"I could help you.", said Luna, to Neville's surprise.

"What the, Luna no!"

Draco smiled and patted her head. "Thank you, Luna. But I'm not sure you can help me this time."

"Okay." She turned back to her drink, not in the least bit offended or irritated. Luna always knew all, even when she didn't know shit.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?" Neville stopped him. "I didn't think you'd accept my decision."

Draco turned to him and thought a moment of how to explain it. "I said I would. Besides, I came to you, because I trust that you will do what you believe to be right. And if helping me is the wrong thing to do, if I am beyond help, then I have to accept that." It really was that simple. He didn't wait for another answer. The gratitude had been his main concern. He walked into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath there, as he was suddenly right in front of a very red faced Potter.

Draco didn't really want to talk to the golden trio, so he pushed past them.

"Your wand." Potter stopped him warily, somewhat flushed around the cheek. And that's when Draco connected that Granger and Weasley must have shared Draco's earlier joke with him. Why else would Potter be red upon seeing him? Unless he just ran a marathon inside a fucking train.

He couldn't contain a satisfied smirk. "Ah. Hmm. Shame. I thought it looks really good in your hands.", he couldn't help himself, as he mindlessly pulled it out of said hands. Potter was suddenly completely frozen. It lacked the same fun vibe it had with Pansy, though. Potter wasn't really someone Draco wanted to mess with if he was being completely honest. Like, yeah, sure, mess with, but not mess mess with, if you understand.

Draco past them as Potter remained too stunned to respond, putting his wand back in his cape. But before he could be out of earshot, Longbottom suddenly stormed out the wagon and shouted his name. "Malfoy. I changed my mind. I will help you."

"Help him?", Potter regained his voice, eyes wide with confusion.

Draco paused. He turned back around. He hadn't expected that. The rejection, yes, but this? Hope lit up in Draco's eyes as he turned around. "Really?"

Neville bit his lip. "But it will cost you. No more pushing me around. Or any of my friends. Is that clear?"

Draco stared at him. "I promise." It had never been easier for him to say those words.

"The deal is off, once you break it.", Neville added.

Draco nodded cheerfully. "Of course." He hadn't expected Neville to endure Draco's comments and bullying any longer, either way. He didn't think he COULD push him around in his current state.

"What the hell?", Weasley muttered, as even Granger was at a loss for words.

"Good," said Neville, just on the tilt side of irritated, and nodded his way.

Draco sent him a genuine smile. "Seriously, thank you."

With that he turned on his heels and left back to the wagon of the prefects. Granger and Weasley returned much later. They didn't confront him about it, but they had those wary looks on that they always wore. So Draco didn't see a problem.

Draco and Pansy quickly got to the carriages. Eventually, his other friends, consisting of Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini had somehow caught up to them. They were chatting with each other and praising Draco for his new position as prefect. And what they could do from that position to the other students.

Draco was in deep thought as he tried to get used to the sight of his former friend who had been burned to crisps by fiend fire. Vincent looked like he always had, minus the insane vibes he had somehow gained during his seventh year. Draco had a bad feeling, just seeing him, all of them, really, but he swallowed down his fear rather well, he thought. This - THIS was something he felt mentally prepared for.

He wasn't for what came next.

They were about to take one of the carriages, when Draco saw them. 'Thestrales', his mind supplied and his heart rate picked up. Draco froze at their sight, his feet rooted to the ground.

"Draco?", Pansy called him as Draco stared at the giant creatures that had always pulled the carriages. They were like giant skeletons of winged horses. They looked deadly and murderous. He knew from Hagrid's lessons in their last firth year that you could only see them when you had seen someone die. Draco had seen many people die. More than many. Draco had witnessed a genocide happening before his very eyes. That's what took it.

These creatures feasted on raw flesh.
Flesh.
Flesh.
Flesh.
Pale, bloody, dirty corpses in the garden, on the breakfast table. Their faces haunted him as the peacocks feasted on them, as the Death Eaters practices spells on their bodies.
They were food. Food for the plants, food for the snakes, food for the ego. Nagini moving fluidly over them, the sight before him turned back to Hogwarts grounds. Vincent, Snape, Potter.
Someone was screaming.

One moment his vision turned black before him, the next he was sitting down on the cobblestone road. He couldn't remember moving there, though. He couldn't hear his friends. Couldn't hear anything but the screams in his head. He stared at the ground trying to figure out if he was breathing or not. He stared at his shaking hands and wondered whom the blood belonged to.

"Draco! DRACO!" Someone was shaking him, but he couldn't hear them. Those were the voices of Death Eaters. He knew those voices. Knew them too well. His vision swam. The cobble stone underneath him was barely lit from the moon. The wet lights reflected in it, mixed with the sight of raw flesh and blood. He touched it, mindlessly, wondering if it was his own.

"The others will go and get Professor Snape. I'll stay with you, alright?"

Carriages drove past them, curious eyes must have glanced his way, but Draco didn't see them. He couldn't hear anything past the promise of Severus Snape. His heart squeezed the breath out of him. That was ridiculous. Severus was dead. He had seen his corpse. Had carried it from the hut where Potter told him to find it. He had seen his cold, dead eyes, his swollen neck and the wounds that Nagini had inflicted onto them. Snape's eyes were so cold. His skin so pale and grey as he stared into the sky and beyond, so pale his complexion was only comparable to Draco himself.

"Malfoy!" Draco looked up to see Potter's eyes directed at him.

"Oh, hi, Potter.", Draco said, his voice weak. Oh, he was crying. He hadn't noticed.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" Neville was with him.

It was just them. Granger, Weasley and Luna were somehow not with them.

He vaguely recalled a conversation. There wasn't much space in the carriages, or something, so they must have sent everyone else to go, so it would be only the four of them in the last one. He guessed that Pansy wouldn't exactly be happy about that.

"Yes?", Draco said, staring at the creatures that wouldn't vanish, no matter how much he wished them to.

"Can't you two see that we don't want you here right now? Go away, Potter, Longbottom! We don't want your pity!", Pansy snarled at them, but Draco gave her a weirdly calm stare.

"Actually, I don't care." Which earned him more shocked glances. Would this continue to happen for the rest of the year? Everyone staring at him as if he had lost his mind? Which he had, but still.

"Did you have another panic attack?" Neville was suddenly sitting beside him.

"Another?" Potter and Pansy asked at once, glaring at each other once they noticed they had spoken in unison.

"Kind of. I forgot the thestrales were pulling the carriages. I've never seen them before, so it was quite a shock.", he explained to Neville, who's eyes widened. "It triggered memories, I think?" He sounded way too calm, even in his own ears.

"You know what they are?", Neville asked at the same time Potter said: "You see them, too?" and Pansy frowned. "What are Thestrales?" They all shared confused glances, while Draco frowned. Hello?! Did he look like a dictionary?

"They are magical creatures that can only be seen if you've seen someone die." Draco shrugged, the other two boys looked at each other, like kindergarteners who had just learned their parent's names weren't actually 'mom' and 'dad'. Actually, that was a cruel comparison regarding the two.

Neville opened his mouth and closed them. "Oh." He seemed to be saying that a lot. "Can you stand?"

"I can try. Or you leave me here. Do you think they eat people? I always wondered if they eat people. But then, the Dark Lord would have had some sort of pet thestrales, don't you think?"

"What's going on?", Potter whispered to Neville, as if he still hadn't picked up on the obvious insanity that had befallen Draco's mind. Draco felt oddly calm and peaceful. His memories had frozen his mind and taken all emotion with them. He felt exhausted though. So, so exhausted.

Neville bit his lip. "It's complicated. But I think he's depressed."

"Pff. Draco isn't depressed! That's something that muggles do!", Pansy arrogantly announced.

Now that was ironic. "Muggles care a lot more about mental health than wizards do. I mean, what do we do? Send our kids to school and face Dementors and thestrales and dragons and monsters. We send them into the forbidden forest to try and find a unicorn blood drinking psychopath. They? They care about their children. That is so wild.", Draco muttered, which must have convinced everyone present that he truly was deranged. In all honesty, Draco found this hysterically funny. He couldn't help but giggle at their deep frowns.

"Come on. We have to get him into the carriage.", said Potter and put an arm under Draco's middle and pulled him up. Along with Neville, they pulled him into the carriage and waited for Pansy to join them. She did so reluctantly and only after she noticed that Draco wasn't complaining about his treatment. Then, finally, the carriage drove off into the night.

The ride was quiet as Draco was finally coming back to himself. The rattling of the carriage helped him focus again. He still felt pretty weak on his feet when they got off again.

At the entrance, they were greeted by Severus Snape, who arched an eyebrow at seeing the company Draco was in. Draco, however, could only stare at the ghost before him. Potter cursed under his breath, while Neville steadied him, before handing him over to Severus.

"I have been informed you were sick, Mr. Malfoy.", Snape drawled out once they'd approached. Draco nodded. Clearly, Snape believed that to be a ruse. Or he was actually concerned, one could never tell.

'Fascinating.', Draco thought as he looked at his somehow alive potions teacher. Potter had cleared his name after the war, for reasons that were hard to grasp and even harder to believe. And now he was back again and Potter still hated him. But there was life in Snape's dark eyes. He was alive. Draco had to stop himself from reaching out and feeling for his heartbeat.

"And you, Potter, Longbottom. I see you decided you could be late to the festivities. That would be ten points from Gryffindor to each of you. Mrs. Parkinson, I was told you would be waiting for me at the carriages. Had I left any sooner, I'd never have found you, would I? Now hurry, unless you don't want to eat today."

Potter and Longbottom bit their lips, but otherwise turned around, immediately regretting that they had stayed behind to help Draco. Draco almost laughed as Snape grabbed his shoulder to make him follow him. This was ridiculous. Severus' hand was warm on his wrist. No doubt they were headed to his office. There were no snake bites on Snape's neck. He was alive. There was a glimmer of unconcealed hatred in his eyes. Gosh, how Draco had missed him.

"Potter, Longbottom.", Draco yelled and they both turned around with annoyed grimaces on their faces. "For helping a Slytherin in need. Twenty points for each of you." Then he waved them goodbye with a wide grin on his lips.

Snape's grip tightened, the glances of the two Griffindor's turned from annoyed to hilariously flabbergasted. Oh yes. Draco would absolutely abuse his powers again this year.

...

"What was that about?", Snape's smile, if it had ever been there at all, had long disappeared by the moment he pushed Draco into a seat in his office.

"Erm... I thought it would be pretty self explanatory." Draco shrugged.

Snape growled, then took Draco's sight in. He must look horrid. The circles under his eyes still present and now coated with dried tears. "Mr. Malfoy, when have you last eaten? You look starved."

Draco shrugged and considered seriously. "Yesterday morning, I think? About that, my mother should have sent you a letter. She wants me to ask you for help. St. Mungo's has prescribed me with a health potion that should increase my strength, as well as sleeping drafts. I don't trust myself taking them on my own, so I need to stop by your office once a day. Just so you make sure I don't mess with the potions."

Severus blinked at him, seemingly surprised with his uncaring manner. "What do you mean, mess with the potions?"

Draco paused. Then shrugged. Snape stared at him and it was the first time in Draco's life that he had seen the man worried, instead of angry. At least in a way that Draco could recognise. Draco intended not to keep things from him this year. In fact, he apparently couldn't keep quiet if he tried.

All his life, he had bottled everything up. Since after the war, it had proven to be easier to drive people away with honesty than it was by keeping secrets. Talking helped in ways he hadn't imagined. Right now, it helped him keep his calm.

"Is your... starvation the reason that you broke down outside the train?"

Draco considered. "Maybe that too. But I think mostly it was the panic attack."

Snape blinked again. "Isn't panic attack a muggle term? Where did you pick that up?"

Draco sighed and longed for his little office. For the patients who understood him. Who took him and themselves seriously. Who actually improved their lives due to their sessions. "It is. And it's very fitting." He paused. His mind running away from him at all the nostalgia. What had he wanted to ask Severus again? "By the way, is there any chances that I could take muggle studies this year? Now that we're on it?"

Whatever Severus Snape had expected, it clearly was not this. But he schooled his expression as he always did. "May I ask why you're asking such a preposterous question?"

Draco pulled his knees up the chair, instead of showing any propriety. He didn't answer.

"No Slytherin has ever chosen muggle studies, Mr. Malfoy. And you've been missing two years of education in the area. Not that muggle studies would be hard. But as you're from a pureblood family that has kept away from their world, it might prove to be a challenge. Even if you could, I don't think you'll be able to take an OWL exam." As always, his words were carefully selected. It made it easier to believe that this was real and not just some dream.

"Hmm.", Draco muttered. He knew from experience that not taking the OWL would not stop him from taking the job anyway. But he would like to be more prepared if he could be. "Could you arrange it anyway? I don't have to take the OWL, but I'd like to take the lessons anyway."

"Mr. Malfoy. You're behaving very odd. You're mother has informed me that you're not sleeping well. It has not escaped her that you are withering away. But this... choice of yours... implies that you have had a change of heart in a more general form. May I ask what brought this on?" Draco shook his head. He didn't know how to answer that, so he didn't. For once, their potions' Professor decided to leave him be. "So, you will be needing sleeping potions, potions to regain your strength and one to keep you nourished. Is that correct?"

Draco nodded.

"Very well. I will have them prepared for you. I don't see why you would need supervision though."

Draco pressed his lips together. "Just as a precaution."

"Do not, waste my time, Mr. Malfoy. Go now. Or you will be missing the feast. And as we have clearly established, you cannot afford to lose any more weight."

Draco eyed the tinctures that of course Snape had ready for him, be put on the table. "Thank you, Professor.", he said, because he didn't know how to explain things otherwise. Telling Neville the truth was different than talking to the dead. Even if Draco had had no intention to lie, it was no hard to open his mouth.

Draco was already about to leave when he felt a prodding sensation in his mind. Draco blinked and felt it ricocheting against his mental barrier. He turned to Snape, whose eyes were unreadable for anyone who didn't know him. "I don't really like people prodding around in my head, Professor."

"You were taught Occlumency." Snape looked downright alarmed.

"Since when are teachers allowed to pry into their student's personal life," Draco gave back, feeling rather cold towards his godfather at that moment. He REALLY didn't appreciate it when people tried to get into his head. It made him defensive, if not downright mad. "Being forced to share emotional thoughts is considered psychological abuse, which can lead to or strengthen trauma." He glared at Snape. "According to muggles, it's better to let people express their thoughts in their own time." After that, he closed the door behind himself. He knew he didn't imagine the startled expression he had received for that.

Draco missed about half of Umbridge's speech. And none of the good food to his own dismay. He walked down the aisle to his usual seat and marvelled at how clean and repaired the hall looked. Until he remembered that none of it had been destroyed yet. No war had happened in here at this point in time. Draco filled his goblet with pumpkin juice and drank during Umbridge's horrible last words. If only they were her final ones.

His friends were pestering him with questions already. They were worried, while he could see amused and laughing faces turned in his direction everywhere else.
This was ridiculous. They laughed about him because he had a panic attack? Well, he expected no less. It had taken him a while to recognise how many people made fun of other people's mental state. Himself included. In fact, Draco may have been one of the worst participants. It had been especially bad in Hogwarts. The students were told to share their innermost fears with their entire class when facing a boggart. Hogwarts was actually a very shitty school, everything considered.

Somehow, Draco still felt hollow. He stared at the feast in front of him and decided to eat at least a little something. So he ate mostly fruits and a bit of broth. No matter how great the chicken and all the meat smelled, it turned his stomach upside down.

...

The next morning, Draco woke up feeling strangely refreshed. He had gotten three full hours of sleep, after the five hours in the train. Which meant, he had gotten a full night's sleep. It put him in a bit of a good mood. He took one of the tinctures from his nightstand and gulped down the strength potion. He felt it's effects immediately, waking him up more. He put on his clothes and walked downstairs where none of the other students were awake yet. Why would they be. It was hours before breakfast.

He walked into the Great Hall anyways, finding the breakfast prepared already, and even managed to eat a small sandwich and drink a glass of water while he listen to the Bloody Baron retell a story on how he threatened some muggles in the past. Apart from that, Draco was the only one down here except for another insomniac Slytherin who merely acknowledged his presence. He was in his second year, Draco thought, who probably followed the traditional age hierarchy in he Slytherin house. Meaning, he'd pay Draco respect he hadn't earned. It made Draco feel save enough to eat, though, since he wasn't alone.

So Draco sat there and looked at the interior design of the great hall, as he never had before. He drew on the table cloth with his wand, then erased his designs and stared in the air. Maybe he should start meditating. He had been reading up on that before he turned back in time. Sarah had suggested he try out something called 'Yoga'. It was meant to release stress.

He played with an apple then. He could eat one, surely. He took one of the knifes on the desk and began cutting the apple like a muggle would. And immediately, because Draco had never, ever, had to cut his own apples, he cut his own thumb instead. Fascinated, Draco stared at the cut. The blood licking down his skin and falling on the table.
'Huh'.

Draco took the knife and poked at the wound. How would it feel to cut through the skin to his bones? He pressed the sharp edge against it, feeling the pain increase. More blood flooded on the table wear. His eyes met the mortified second year.

He tore himself away from the moment and cleaned the knife on the table cloth. Then he cleaned it all up with his wand. He casted a quick healing spell and pretended nothing had happened. The boy bit his lip and turned his face back to his own breakfast, clearly thinking Draco was a psychopath.

Draco only looked up as the first students, all of them Ravenclaws, walked in for breakfast. Professor McGonagall was not far behind. She spotted him and frowned but didn't talk to him.

Draco remained patiently bored, until slowly more and more students trailed into the great hall. Eventually his friends joined too, surprised and confused why he had already come here so early. He refused to eat anymore. And eventually, they were handed their time tables.

Snape gave him a sharp glance as he handed him his. "I have considered your request, Mr. Malfoy. It seems you're in luck. The subject in question fits into your time table. If I find you slacking in potions, however, I will speak with Professor Burbage. This year is important to your future and I won't have you mess it up with this side project of yours."

Draco beamed, not believing his luck. "Thank you, Professor."

Draco's first lesson today was a double lesson of charms. After that would be potions with the Gryffindors.

And there he saw why Professor Snape had said he was lucky. Students were meant to have at least two electives each year, next to mandatory classes. And he had chosen studies of ancient runes and care of magical creatures. Tuesday morning he had neither of those, leaving him a rare open slot. He had used this slot in his first run for Arithmancy as a third elective. Back then, in his sixth year, he had given up on the subject in favour of finding a way to lead Death Eaters into the Castle. Now, the slot was open for him for muggle studies.

Somewhat satisfied with his day so far, Draco strolled down the halls while everyone else was headed for lunch. He skipped this time. There was no point in forcing down food more than twice a day. Instead, he walked down the halls and looked at the portraits that he had never taken the time to appreciate. These portraits, too, had been gravely involved in the war. Not physically, of course, but they had brought messages forth and back between the fighters.

He ran his fingers down the frames, feeling that it was all real. He was really here. Back in Hogwarts.
Eventually he went outside, just staring at the sky. He spaced out so much that he almost missed class, hadn't he noticed a mass on students marching down the halls.

He then followed them down into the vaults. He sat down in the last row of the Potions class room. He used to sit in front, since the lecture always came easy to him which gave him a position to show off to Severus. Not today, though. For a moment, Draco noticed that he kept doing things the opposite way of how he used to do them. Maybe in hopes of it being the right way to do it. Pansy sat down next to him. If she was surprised at his seat choice, she didn't say a thing. Meanwhile, Draco saw Neville picking a table close to him for reasons that probably had everything to do with Draco's and his arrangement from the train.

To be fair though, the last row had always been Neville's first choice. He was, after all, afraid of Professor Snape.

Neville nodded at him and whispered, while everyone brought out their books. "Are you alright now?"

Draco sent him a smile, surprised that Neville cared. "Yeah. I was given some tinctures. They help me sleep and stuff. Thanks for asking."

Pansy punched him in the arm, scandalised by how casually he talked to Neville. When Draco just sent her a questioning glance, she pouted and spent the rest of the lesson avoiding him. Draco could only wonder about that. He followed her movements with his eyes though, knowing that his actions were likely to have consequences.

And so their first lesson began with another boring speech about how important this year was for them. Since it was their fifth year and they would have their OWLs and blah blah blah. Draco counted that to the list of things that teachers used to put emotional pressure on their students and that caused so many breakdowns right before the exams. Draco trailed off. He knew he had to study and he would. But now he focused on the room itself and how he remembered it exactly like this.

That was how his Monday went by, ending with Herbeology with the Rawenclaws and Astronomy that same night. It was rather peaceful.

Draco wondered, though. Had he ever noticed before that Astronomy was taught to the students from third grade onwards? And they could only be taught the lesson during certain hours. Slytherins had the tower booked for Mondays, the other houses used the other weekdays. But how on earth did they manage to teach all years from thirst grade forward in this tower? There was only this ONE tower? Draco shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't question the logistics of the impossible Hogwarts' timetables.

Tuesday, finally, was his first course of Muggle studies. And for once, Draco found himself looking forward to something.

The thing was... no Slytherin ever took Muggle studies. They were either in Arithmancy or decided to sleep in. And so the room was filled with Griffindors and Ravenclaws when he entered. Multiple heads looked up and followed his movements with no less than irritation. They stared at him as if he had walked into the wrong classroom. Which was a legitimate assumption. Draco took in the surroundings and saw familiar objects all splattered on those tables. There was a computer, some cables, a toaster, a microwave, a coffee machine and a TV. All things they had in the waiting and or break-room in his therapy office. He had learned to use them all, but he still found it fascinating to see them here, all unplugged on a table. Electric objects didn't work in Hogwarts, did they? Or had they made this room so that they would?

He shrugged and set down next to a gaping Hermione Granger. He exchanged a monotone grunt as a greeting until she sat up straight and focused on him. Despite the fact that no teacher was yet present, she hissed at him. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy. This is muggle studies."

"I'm aware." Draco said and tilted his head. "What are YOU doing here? You're from a muggle family. You already know how all these things work."

She blinked at the lack of degrading terms he had usually used to address her with, and scoffed. "I just find it interesting how wizard's view them. No Slytherin EVER takes this class! And this is an advanced class. Why are you here?"

"I'm just curious."

"You wouldn't get what a microwave was if I explained it to you.", Granger muttered, clearly annoyed and oddly offended, but her tone was less hostile than Draco would have expected. "You won't get by a single lesson with Professor Burbage!"

Draco blinked at her, well aware he was being watched by a ton of giggling Ravenclaws. "Well, it's the giant box there with cable on it. You plug it in and then you can heat food." He paused, then add as an afterthought, "and milk."

Sarah had always drunken warm milk from the microwave. He leaned his face on one hand, barely missing Granger's flabbergasted expression. "And I know they were originally created because Muggles wanted to test if you could bring small frozen animals back to life. They tried it on hamsters and it worked. They only figured later that it wouldn't work with humans, because of physical laws and the sheer size of humans compared to hamsters. The microwaves wouldn't get through human flesh fast enough to keep them alive during the process." This information was provided to you by the breakroom and one of Draco's more fascinating patients.

"That's ridiculous. You made that up.", Granger scowled.

"No, I googled it." To fact check.

"You..." Granger paused. "What is googling?"

Oh right. That was a future muggle invention. Draco closed his mouth. "Forget it, I did make that up." He stared at the chalk board, ignoring her, until their Professor walked in. She too, paused as she spotted Draco. The moment their eyes met, Draco felt like he was being punched in the face. Draco recognised her face and the memory made him feel sick. Burbage, right. He'd last seen her hanging from a chandelier, begging for her life, before Nagini killed and then ate her alive. Draco involuntarily gagged at the memory.

The professor regarded him rather coldly after that reaction. "Mr. Malfoy. I am happy to finally see a Slytherin in my rows, even though I doubt you will take my course seriously. But if you're here to make fun of my lesson, you will have to leave."

"Of course, Professor." He swallowed the memory down and tried to focus on the lesson. He saw Granger smirk at him.

It quickly fell from her face when Professor Burbage posed her first question. "So, what do you think a microwave has to do with hamsters?"

The shock rendered her class silent, only a few heads turned nervously to Draco who was still fighting with the repercussions of seeing another ghost. Burbage finally sighed and answered very loudly. "Necromancy, of course."

The only odd thing about that was the fact that Granger seriously hadn't known, Draco thought, feeling somewhat faint.

The entire lesson went by like this. Granger was taking notes, while Burbage explained to them the difference between a microwave and an oven. Draco found himself spacing out. He felt tired as hell, all of a sudden. Don't get him wrong, he did find this fascinating, he just couldn't look at his professor before breaking into a cold sweat. It was no wonder that Burbage eventually singled him out, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy. I do suppose your houseelfs cook all of your meals, right? Can you tell me, what this object has to do with cooking?"

Draco blinked and scanned the object in her hand. "That's a trick question. Muggles don't cook with their phones. But they can order food with it." Draco didn't think she should look so surprised. "They call that a delivery service." Draco was very fond of delivery service. They didn't deliver to the manor, but they did to his office. Even if he didn't eat much, he would always treasure pizza Thursdays.

"That is... correct." Curiosity was flaming in her eyes now. "Well, do you know how phones work?"

"Do you mean operate them?"

Burbage shook her head. "No, how do phones work. How are they connected to one another?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't think that half the muggles know that themselves. I asked one, she had no idea. She only knew how to take out the battery and add a SIM card." Draco paused, finding several fascinated eyes on him. Perhaps he needed to explain that too. "That's a chip that goes in the back of the phone. That's the thing that gives every person an individual phone number. Depending on how much money they put on the card, that is how long they are able to communicate with each other through the phone."

Again, she stared at him. But this time the rest of class was focusing on him decidedly too much. "Mr. Malfoy... that maz not have answered my question but ... very well. 20 points for Slytherin."

Wait, he got points for that?" With a side glance to Granger, he realised that she hadn't expected it either. She was even mouthing unintelligible things to herself, more confused than he had ever seen her. When class ended, she sent him one last irritated glance, but then rushed past him, her hair a wild mess behind her.

It was Wednesday in second period, when Draco finally had Defence against the Dark Arts for the first time.

Draco wasn't very eager to see Dolores Umbridge, but like she had in his first run, she nodded at him with a smile and told everyone in the room how she knew his father. Then she continued her speech on why they wouldn't be using their wands all year. As much as he hated her, he was kind of glad they didn't have to face any magical creatures. Well, despite perhaps Firence later that year, but Draco didn't take Divination. Now that he thought about it, it would be cool to mess around in that class. He DID have knowledge about the future.

Draco hadn't put anything on the table beside his books in the first place, so he was the only one who didn't have to put his wand away. At least he wouldn't have to prove he were somehow worthy of his legendary wand. Is what he thought and yet, he eventually raised his arm.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?", her sweet voice regarded him with kindness.

"I don't think teaching us on books alone is that good of an idea. I feel like we should be able to defend ourselves when we go outside." Why Draco said this, beat him too.

She laughed and said, no doubt, the same thing she had told Harry Potter in their first run. Gryffindor and Slytherin didn't share Defence this year, so that was that. Draco had only heard the rumours afterwards, but it apparently had been a pretty loud fight back then that had ended with Potter in detention. And Draco KNEW what detention looked like with Umbridge. He'd assisted her in them before. The thought alone made him feel sick again.

"And what, pray tell, would you have to be afraid of, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco blinked and put his arm down. 'Like... aside from the Dark Lord? Death Eaters? Free roaming Dementors? Getting sectumseprad in the bathroom?' Those were the things he DIDN'T say. It was a lot simpler than that. "Well, I mean, we're wizards. We like... meet creatures and curses outside this classroom all the time. Last year there was the Triwizard tournament and the contestants had to fight the Grindelohs in the lake just outside this castle. You do know that we students do hang out around the lake, right? They are literally - right there."

"And why would you go for a swim outside if you know that, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco blinked. "I don't know. But I mean, what if there is a boggart in my cabinet at home? Shouldn't I like... know how to defeat that thing if it's in my house?"

Umbridge's smirk twitched, while the other Slytherins began to whisper among each other. The noise was cut short as Umbridge lightly hit the table with her wand and everyone was quickly silent.

Draco wondered if he would get detention now, too. What would he have to write on his hand? Draco wondered if he would even complain about it, or if he'd lose his mind and keep writing until he'd bleed out from his hands. Could you die from that?

"I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, everything you need is in these books. You will be perfectly prepared for all eventualities and be able to pass your tests. There is no need for you to put yourselves in harms way on purpose."

"Hmm." Draco then decided he had said enough and folded his hands over his book. "Still better than being attacked by pixies in Lockhart's class then, I guess."

Umbridge ignored that. "Well then, class. You can now start reading the first chapter. Everyone, start now." She swished with her wand and everyone's books opened to page one. Draco stared at the familiar page. Wow, shit. He really had to read that nonsense again, didn't he? Maybe facing a boggart wasn't THAT bad, actually.

The first couple of weeks passed rather slowly.
It was a sunny afternoon when Theo pulled him aside to talk with him. "Draco.", he began and Draco gave him a gesture to get on with it.

"Are you alright? You haven't been yourself since the train. There have been rumours spreading about you acting very ... unlike you. It's not just your breakdown. Pansy said you were kind to Neville Longbottom, and some Ravenclaws claim you're taking muggle studies! What's going on?
You rarely talk anymore and you barely eat. We're getting worried!"

Draco stared at him. "All of that is true." When Theo looked like he was waiting for more than that, Draco eventually added. "I don't see the problem." Not anymore.

"You don't see the problem?" Theo stepped back. "You're prefect and Quidditch captain! You haven't even started with selecting new members, let alone training! Last week, you gave two Ravenclaws points for helping a Hufflepuff with Herbeology!"

"Yeah. Who in their right mind helps a Hufflepuff?!", Draco snorted.

"Why did you GIVE them points?! You should have TAKEN points from them! You're not yourself! You even talked against Umbridge, right AFTER she told us about her connections to your father! What's going on? Do you think I don't notice it when you don't sleep? And when you do, you keep having nightmares!"

"Oh. Did I wake you up? I'm sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to."

"That's not the issue! I send my father a letter and he told me that you were in St. Mungo's last summer! What's going on?"

Draco blinked. He looked around and noticed that the rest of his friends had started listening. "What's going on is that I ... " How could he put it. "I needed a change." He shrugged.

"What change? Draco, you're our leader. You're great the way you are. This year, we could have so much fun. While Potter is out there, making a fool of himself, telling everyone he fought You Know Who last year, we can finally shine! The Prophet confirmed that he's a liar. No one believes him anymore, or Dumbledore! Have you heard how Potter got on Umbridge's bad side in his first lesson?"

Draco considered him for a moment. These guys had been his friends. Still were, somehow. Draco had thrown them away once. As they had done to him. This decision wasn't one he had to think about for long and it was one he declared with vigour. "Potter is telling the truth. The Dark Lord is back. And he won't stop in front of these classrooms just because we're students. Being a Slytherin doesn't mean you won't see people die, Theo. It means, you will be the one who tortures and kills them. And we won't have a choice in who or how, of when or why. The talking hat, our families, HE made that choice for us." Draco paused, as Theo's gaped at him. "I won't be a pawn in the game of an immortal deranged lunatic." Nothing had ever felt so easy to say. The 'again' remained unsaid.

"Draco.", Theo whispered. "He's the Dark Lord! How can you say that?" It wasn't Theo's fault. He was just a victim of his parent's ideology. Just like Draco had been.

"If we end up in his way, he won't make a difference between friend and foe. Between Pureblood and Muggle." Draco's hands were shaking and Theo noticed. "And believe me this one thing. We will all end up in his way."

Theo's face distorted into confusion and something close to aversion. "You're not Draco! You're not the Draco we know!"

Draco turned his head to see similar reactions on his other friend's faces. "Well.", he looked down. "We all make our choices. I wish you good luck with yours." And so, he finally walked away. Feeling neither better nor worse. Just accepting of the truth. He had been over them for years now. How much worse could it be, if he did it all over again? He could go away. He wouldn't feel hurt. This was not his choice to make.

"So you believe Potter!" Theo yelled after him and that made several heads turn. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Griffindors alike. The court yard was full of people. They should have considered that before calling Draco out in front of all of them. Or perhaps that was the plan. Maybe they thought they could still turn things around if they made a scene. "You believe these LIES he told us last about Diggory's death! After everything that's in the daily prophet? After he's accused your father of being a Death Eater?"

Draco didn't turn back to them, as he felt the wind in his hair mocking him. "Truth tends to hurt, Theo." He closed his eyes, trying not to shake because he knew that with this, there was no way they would ever be friends again. He had turned his back on them and all he could expect now was the knife. He knew this would happen, but it had happened sooner than expected. He'd been so relieved to see them, too.

So, he held his head high and ignored the curious glances of the Gryffindors who parted a small way for him. The murmurs fell on deaf ears.

After that, Draco was not only alone, the rumour spread that he was now at odds with his friends. And believing POTTER, none the less.

There was gossip in the hallways, which Draco was only protected from because of his status as prefect. People would shut up and make a wide bow around him once they saw his pin and Draco felt very lucky to have it. Eventually, Draco gave back the Quidditch badge, though.

Snape had been livid. Meaning, he didn't change his expression one bit. Draco was given a speech about how he was supposed to make them win the house cup this year on Snape's personal request, to which Draco had responded that he wasn't just quitting as Captain, but also as Seeker. That had rendered Snape so speechless that Draco could walk out the room without fearing to be called back. Draco kept only the prefect title. Not for his own protection, but the one that would be needed, once Umbridge started to spread her orders everywhere. Dumbledore's army could absolutely use an ally in enemy territory. And Draco had decided that he would at least try.

His new loneliness was soon noticed by Neville Longbottom, who one day approached him in broad daylight. He didn't say anything at first. Instead, he endured the confused Ravenclaws and sent Draco a look. "Are you okay?"

"I'm a Slytherin. You shouldn't be asking me that." Draco didn't look at him when Neville took his seat next to Draco. He was outside in the sun, bathing in the sunlight on a stone bench. Longbottom sighed. "You know, I really thought you would have come to me, by now. Have you changed your mind?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I just haven't really had a moral conflict yet."

"You told the entire school that Harry is right about You Know Who and that your father is a Death Eater."

"My father is a grown man who can handle himself. He will get arrested at the end of the year when the ministry finally sees sense. He's made his choices and I am trying not to repeat mine. And Potter IS saying the truth."

Neville was silent. "People also say you're having sex dreams about Harry."

That, for one, came so sudden that Draco startled first, then burst into laughter. He chuckled and shook his head. "I wondered if that one made it among the rumour circles. The fuck are people talking about these days." He wiped away a tear.

"So... do you?"

Draco snorted again. "No." He grinned at Neville. "But that would make things ten times funnier, wouldn't it?"

Neville frowned. "I never understood you. Now I get you even less. They say you dreamed of you two... you know..." Neville weaved at him. "Getting each other off. And that you bragged about it."

Draco exhaled. "I told Pansy I dreamed of Potter using my wand. It's not my fault that Granger and Weasley overhead and didn't get the joke."

Neville stared. "I don't..."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I recall that I told you that Potter used my wand to defeat the Dark Lord, because he somehow lost his own?"

"OH!" There it was again. Neville nodded eagerly. "I get it." He didn't laugh. Well, you had to have been there. Draco sighed. Or perhaps Neville was starting to understand that Draco had deformed his own nightmares for the sake of a joke.

"Why Muggle studies?" Neville finally asked nervously.

"I'm curious?"

"Why do I get the feeling that there is more to that?", Neville asked, staring at him, as if eager for every word. "Hermione told me you knew more about micrapolyse than she did. What is a mircoplane?"

"Microwave. It's just a Muggle thing they use to warm up food."

"And you know that how?"

Draco blinked and lowered his gaze to look even more haunted. "I have seen things -" He made himself sound like an old man. Which completely ruined the effect. Neville gave him an unimpressed glance and shoved him in the side. It made him laugh. Even though his rip cracked at the heavy nudge.

"How was I ever afraid of you?"

Draco smiled, nostalgia gripping him tight. "I wonder about that, too."

From that moment onward, Draco was found by Neville every other day. Often, Luna was with him. That Draco called Luna by her first name eventually annoyed Neville so much, that he forced Draco into calling him by that too. Draco countered that suggestion by accentuation his name in a french way. Which made Neville call him 'Drago' in turn.

When Pansy refused to sit next to Draco in potions the next time, Neville simply took the place under the disguise that Draco could help him in class. Draco had never seen Professor Snape more conflicted than in that moment. On the one hand, Neville was his favourite victim. On the other, Draco was his godson. It often ended in him criticising Neville about minor mistakes and Draco taking the blame.

That action granted him the attention of the golden trio. And Granger began asking him questions about muggle studies. Which he tried to answer as well as he could. Especially the newer inventions, like the mobile phones seemed a bit tricky for her. Not because she didn't know them, but because she wasn't home enough to use them and phones didn't work in Hogwarts. Besides, who needs a phone, if you can just cast a patronus?

Draco wouldn't know. He had no idea how to cast a patronus. Let alone a corporal one. Well okay, he knew how to technically do it. He just failed every time he tried. Either way, he guessed he somewhat shared her fascination about muggle items.

Why she was even talking to him was somewhat of a mystery to Draco though. The very fact that he wasn't calling Granger 'mudblood' anymore, intrigued her for some reason. But it made Weasley incredibly mad. And it was super fun to watch.

"I just mean, he's a DEATH eater, Hermione!"

"That's a great observation you have there, Weasley. I eat Death for breakfast. It's very yummy." Draco had once overheard them and it was absolutely worth seeing Weasley flush red with anger. Well, they had approached HIM, in his alone time at the library, so it was his own fault for not being cautious. Potter was less annoyed with him and more hostile. The closer Draco came to their group, the darker his frown became, as if his eyes alone could scare him away.

"Oh, come on, Ron. I feel like he's really trying to change. Have you seen how much he's been helping Neville in class?"

"No, Hermione. Ron is right. Malfoy clearly has a secret agenda or something! He's acting weird. I don't buy his 'I have mental breakdowns'. So what, he's going to have a panic attack every time it's convenient for him? Like Madam Pomfrey could't cure anything within seconds."

Draco stared at him and exchanged a glance with Granger. Granger replied for him. "Panic attacks aren't something you can cure with potions and healing magic."

"Actually, I AM taking tinctures to keep them at bay.", Draco interrupted. "I'm also right here. I can hear you. You're the last people I'd expect to hang out with me. Why are you here?"

"Yeah, Hermione, why are we hanging out with HIM?" Potter was growling. But he couldn't seem to help the awkward flush he always got, since that rumour about Draco's 'sex dream' had been spread.

"Because Neville said he didn't want him to be alone during break! And he has to help Professor Sprout with something!"

"He IS quite good at Herbeology," Draco commented thoughtfully.

"And Luna said something about mirlwinds in the pipes," she added, less convinced about THAT excuse.

"She should have told me about that. I would have brought a net," Draco added, finding himself oddly hilarious.

"Shut up, Malfoy.", Potter growled displeased. "And come get lunch with us, already."

And so he trailed behind the three Gryffindors out of the library to the Gryffindor table and sat down with the Gryffindor's. Had the three of them not already been avoided for their story about the return of the Dark Lord, Draco would have felt rather touched at the large circle they made around them. So forthcoming for his mental health, not wanting to crowd him. Gryffindors were such heroes.

They sat down, Draco next to an increasingly annoyed Potter, while Granger and Weasley sat opposite to them. Weasley immediately began stuffing himself with chicken, angrily, as a Weasley ought to be in the presence of a Malfoy. Granger berated him loudly and then took herself bread and cheese, while Potter refused to eat. As did Draco. That went on for a couple of minutes, until Hermione pointed it out. Potter eventually relented and put himself potatoes and chicken and vegetables on a plate.

Draco, however, was rather busy looking around the great hall with fascination. He had never seen the room from this angle.

"Draco, you should eat.", said Hermione again and handed him the plate with chicken. Draco didn't even turn his head. "Sorry. But no, thanks."

"What, is the food better at the Slytherin table?", Weasley frowned. "Eat, beanstick."

Draco frowned at him and looked at the table. If he didn't eat, they would surely grow suspicious of him. Even thought it was lunch and Draco felt sick just looking at the food options. Draco sighed and took a few potatoes. He grimaced. "I really am not hungry."

"Eat.", said Potter and filled Draco's plate for him with several different foods that made his stomach turn. There were now potatoes and vegetables and way too much meat on that plate. "We went to the trouble to invite you here. The least you can do is eat.", Potter claimed. "And don't worry, I didn't poison any of it."

"I didn't think you would.", Draco said quietly, feeling disappointed despite himself.

"Come on, eat. The houseelves work very hard on this!", said Hermione, to which the other two boys groaned into their food.

"Not SPEW again.", Potter complained.

"SPEW?"

"NO, don't encourage her!" It must have been the right thing to say, according to the groan Weasley left out.

Hermione beamed. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she explained. "We're fighting for equal rights to exist for elves in wizarding spaces."

"Hermione, he's a pureblood. Dobby was HIS houself, wasn't he? Can you stop? You're embarrassing us in front of Malfoy!"

Draco looked at her and suddenly had a very strange flashback of houseelves joining the fight in the war against Voldemort. "You know what, tell me more." He shoved his plate away. If he could distract her from his lack of appetite, then that was just a bonus. He ignored how Harry followed the movement with his eyes. So, Granger began to explain. And what could Draco say? SPEW was... it was stupid. Draco had never heard something more ridiculous in his life. And coming from someone so smart and excited about the whole thing.

After she was finished explaining, Draco nodded. "WOW. They will absolutely hate you."

Weasley finally grunted a rare sound of approval.

Granger huffed a deep breath and scowled. She looked exactly like the Hermione who had punched him in third year.

"See, even Malfoy agrees, and he never agrees with us. This is stupid," Weasley hummed around his chicken leg.

Draco just shrugged. "Actually, I grew up with the only houself who was begging to be released from his position. It's not stupid. I think it's brilliant, actually."

Three heads stared at him, as if he was insane. "You think it's brilliant? Dobby was insane!"

"Or the first of his kind. Or the only houseelf with a sense of self awareness. Houseelves are mostly proud and happy to serve because they were bred to serve. But if Dobby can exist, surely there could be more houselves like him. And if they want to be released, they would be trapped in their households. I think Granger poses a good idea. But it has to come from the houselves themselves. They have to say they want to be released and when they do, they need to be given the option. The way you're doing things, they just end up on the streets, outcasts in their own society and laughingstocks amongst old fashioned wizards."

Granger's smile widened.

Potter's tableware fell from his hands and clanked against his plate.

Weasley poked Draco in the forehead to see if he was real. Potter had twisted his entire body to face him.

"What?"

Weasley needed to stop talking with his mouth full. "It's just... YOU'RE the one who told us mudbloods should die when the chamber of secrets was opened. And now you're siding with Hermione on SPEW of all things."

Draco faced Weasley with a tilted head, mind trailing off in thought. "Have you ever thought about how I am the third generation of people who serve the Dark Lord, Weasley?" That alone startled the redhead and laser-focused all of their attention on him. "He will expect me to serve now that he's returned. I was bred to serve him, like Dobby was bred to serve me. It took me a while to realise that, because I always believed this is what I have to be. That it's an honour to serve. I have more in common with houseelves than you think." Draco turned to his goblet and took a sip of pumpkin juice that tasted of nothing. Potter shoved the plate with food his way again, but Draco just stared at it. He had hoped they would forget about that.

Granger cleared her throat. "Does that mean, you will support SPEW?"

Weasley actually stomped on her feet. Potter nudged Draco in his side. "Malfoy, eat."

Draco sighed and took a fork in hand to play with the food. The first bite he took made his mouth dry. The second churned in his stomach. He drank more pumpkin juice and tried again.

"I have never seen anyone force themselves so much to eat.", Potter finally commented. "You really don't look good."

"You wound me, Potter. I'm still hot."

"I MEANT-", Potter flushed, then sighed. "You've lost weight. You're thinner than me, and my uncle and aunt starve me deliberately."

Draco paused to look at him. Okay... he hadn't known that. He stored the pity away for later. "I'm TRYING." He sounded as frustrated as he felt, but that only made Potter look somewhat guilty.

"Trying.", Potter repeated. "You look like you're about to vomit."

Draco grimaced. "Don't make me picture it, or I will. This tastes like ash to me. It's not like I do this on purpose."

"So... this is not part of your ruse?"

"I do wonder if you guys have any brain cells at all. What IS my ruse, anyway? That you watch me starve myself to death so you pity and feed me like a baby? Don't be ridiculous."

"You told the entire school that I was right about Voldemort rising.", Potter pointed out.

Draco threw his arms up. "Well, it's true, isn't it? You should know that better than I! Besides, if it were lies, what would I gain by spreading them? People don't actually like me for saying it. Besides, you're Harry saint bloody Potter. You don't need any more fame. And you're not the type to send innocent people to Azkaban and lie about the death of a classmate."

"Exactly!", Potter exploded into a seemingly unvoluntary smile. Suddenly Draco felt blinded by those emeralds glancing at him. Draco physically moved away. Potter seemed to notice his sudden reaction and cleared his throat.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're also stupid enough to face the Dark Lord and try to UNARM him. What the hell is wrong with you?"

The beam in Potter's eyes dimmed only a little. "It saved my life.", he argued, still pleased, if also openly irritated.

"Of course it did.", Draco sighed and kept poking his food, instead of eating it.

"I still can't believe we're eating with Draco Malfoy and I don't want to punch him.", Weasley muttered to himself. He caught his gaze. "Doesn't mean I don't believe that you're not up to something."

"That's fair," Draco decided.

Potter remained in his position, watching Draco with curious confusion. Something settled in his expression, but Draco didn't want to know what it was.