Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Draco sat in the grass at the top of one of the hills at Camp Half-Blood, disregarding the way the dew from the grass soaked into his pants. He held an unopened letter in his hands, his fingers tracing over the wax seal on the back. It had been sent to him almost a month ago, but due to the Second-Giant War, it had gone forgotten and unopened. He flipped the envelope back over, staring at his mother’s loopy handwriting. Dread pooled in his stomach, though he couldn’t say why.

He had sat there until the sun rose, just holding it in his hands. He finally opened it when the last traces of orange were gone from the sky. His hands shook as he pulled the letter out, unfolding it, and smoothing the creases out. He started to read, and he could hear his mothers voice as he did so.

My Dear Draco,

I hope you have been well. I miss you terribly, but it is not safe for you to return home. The Dark Lord has plans for you, ones I have been trying to push away, but everyday he becomes more demanding. He asks where you are, why you haven’t been at the Manor; I answer what I can.

This will not last long though, Draco. He plans to move into the Manor after this summer, and I do not know how long I can keep our secret, not with him living in our home. 

If you do decide to come home this summer, do so in a way that the Dark Lord cannot possibly know you were here, or for so short of a time that he couldn’t possibly visit you.

There has been so much that has happened Draco, and I wish I could tell you, but writing this letter to you was enough of a risk, and I do not have the time to say all that I need.

Love,

  Narcissa Malfoy

Draco felt the tears in his eyes, but he didn’t allow them to fall. He folded the letter back up and put it back in the envelope. He pulled his knees to his body, wrapping his arms around his legs as he watched camp wake up below him. 

He then decided that he was going to go home, just for one day. He needed to see his mother, even if there were risks with not going directly to Hogwarts. He then realized he would also have to get his things for school for next year. He sighed through his nose as he stood, setting his gaze on the Big House. Chiron could help, he always did.

–

Draco was at the porch of the Big House when he noticed Chiron out to the side yard of the house. He was out of the wheelchair, and he was talking with Annabeth, who had noticed his arrival. He walked over to the two, trying to hide the anxiety, but he knew from a glance at Annabeth that she could tell.

“Shouldn’t you be in the infirmary?” She asked, raising her eyebrows, seemingly finished with her conversation with Chiron. Draco completely ignored her, instead handing the letter to Chiron. He watched out of the corner of his eye as her expression changed from a frown to curiosity.

Chiron took the letter, glancing up at Draco questioningly, before pulling it out and reading it. Draco swore he could see Chiron age in front of his eyes, and he really did not like Annabeth’s even more curious stare.

Chiron sighed, putting the letter in the envelope and handing it back to him. Draco knew Chiron wanted him to stay at camp, that way he could protect him, but it wasn’t feasible. He didn’t want Hecate’s pet world to start investigating things they shouldn’t, and discover the demigods. 

“What’s happening Draco?” Annabeth asked, crossing her arms as she looked at him. Her face was neutral, but he could still pick up the lines of worry etched on. Draco had previously told those that he was close to about the wizarding world and a few things about his family, but not recently, and definitely not about the wizard who was seeking immortality.

Draco nervously looked from side to side, wondering how he would explain this all to her. Chiron already knew most of what was happening in the wizarding world, as he liked to keep track of the general world events of his campers. He sighed, turning to look at Chiron who was waiting on what he was going to say.

“I think I’m going to get thrown into another war.” Draco admitted, frowning. The look of anger on Annabeth's face could have evaporated monsters and melted mountains. He heard the soft sigh from Chiron as he led them both into the Big House.

–

Draco watched the varying expressions in the room. They hadn’t been able to gather all of the ones who he was close to and trusted enough, so it was mostly Greek demigods. Annabeth, Percy, Nico, and Hazel (who had been hanging out with Nico at the time), and Will. The others had all been busy, plus Draco hadn’t wanted to disturb them. 

He started to explain everything, in the most historical way possible; the first rise of Voldemort, the death of Lily and James Potter, how Harry Potter became the Boy-Who-Lived (Percy thought the emphasis on Potter was strange.), through to his resurrection in his 4th year. He then explained the Battle of the Department of Mysteries^[1] , and how he had been there.

He remembered how he had just needed a break from school, and had shadow-traveled to the Underworld, and had walked on the outskirts of the Fields of Asphodel. He had entered one of the many caves that lead into Hades’s domain. He trekked upwards for a while, and was extremely surprised when he had heard spells being cast. He stood at the Veil of Death, staring through at the fight before him.

He had heard Bellatrix shout, seen the red beam going towards the person in front of the veil, how that person had started to fall. He knew instinctively that anyone who went through it without the aid of the Underworld, would die. He had reached his hands out, through the chill of the curtain to catch them before he they passed through alone. He pulled them into the opening of the cave, surprised to see the person was Sirius Black. He saw the stunning spell was quickly wearing off, and how Sirius had looked at him. In a panic he pushed him towards the Veil, fully stepping through to guide him back into the world of the living. 

Sirius had been able to stand on his own thankfully, and Draco looked around, quickly taking in everyone in the room. Fear spiked in himself when he locked eyes with Harry Potter, and he rapidly turned around and went back through the Veil. He stared through the curtain, watching as the souls swirled, and Sirius stumbling forwards. He looked absolutely terrified when Draco caught a glimpse of his face, but he didn’t see it for long, as Lupin had grabbed him and pulled him away, stunning Bellatrix. Harry was there too, staring straight through the Veil, his face unreadable. Draco stared back, knowing he couldn’t see him. 

Draco looked about the room, taking in the faces of the people around him. The expressions ranged from confusion to anger, some a mix of both. He cleared his throat, about to tell them about his family’s personal involvement in the war. His anxiety was thick, worried about how they might perceive them, though deep down he knew that family didn’t make you evil.

He glanced at Annabeth, and he could tell that she knew what was about to come out of his mouth was not good. And with that he explained the ‘pure-bloods’ in wizarding society, how he would have technically been one, and the involvement of his family in the war. He spoke about how Lucius had been arrested, and how Voldemort was going to be living in his home. His voice had cracked several times as he spoke, but he pushed the fear and anxiety down.

By the time he was fully done talking, there were only expressions of anger and pity. He looked around the room at his friends, not knowing how they would react. 

“You should stay here, at camp.” Hazel was the first to speak, her voice soft and coaxing. Draco shook his head.

“I can’t just leave like that, he might do something to my mother. That and Dumbledoor might try to track me down, and I don’t want anyone to find out about this place.” His mind flashed to Dumbledoor trying to convince Chiron to let him use demigods to fight in his battle. He pulled away from that thought, he didn’t want any of them to get more involved than this.

He could see the apprehension in the room. They wanted to help him, but they didn’t want to be dragged into a third war. He started to speak when he noticed Percy’s mouth begin to open.

“I don’t want to drag you into this, but I just don’t know what I can do.” Draco’s voice cracked again, letting his true emotions slip onto his face for a few seconds. He looked down at his hands sitting in his lap, his eyes tracing the thousands of scars on them. This wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t disappear. There wasn’t a prophecy yet, but deep down he knew he was tied into the war.

Annabeth eventually spoke. “Draco, I know you don’t want us to help, but you don’t deserve to go through this alone. We won’t get directly involved, but if you need help, please tell us.” With that, Draco nodded, and the others sat in the room for a little while, before slowly leaving when they realized he was done talking.

Chiron had stayed with him a while, but eventually he had to kick Draco out as he had a meeting with a few of the campers. He left without saying anything, just letting his thoughts stew on what he was going to do.

–

The next week he had spent helping rebuild, and it had been enough to mostly take hsi thoughts off of what he needed to do. That was until he had received his letter from Hogwarts, and he realized he would have to go get his school supplies.

Usually over the last few years of camp and school, he had gone home for a few days, and while there he went with his mother, and sometimes Lucius. That wouldn’t be possible this year, not without risking meeting Voldemort.

So instead he had searched for Annabeth, and he eventually found her with Percy. He explained his predicament to them, mostly mentioning how he didn’t want to go alone, but it was understandable if she didn’t want to go. To his (and Percy’s) surprise, she had agreed, saying it would be good for her, and it would only be a day.

Draco had smiled, truly smiled, the first real smile this summer. He saw Annabeth smile back as well.

That was how Draco found himself in Diagon Alley in late August, Annabeth with him, who was looking a little green from the shadow-traveling. However the illness seemed to subside when Draco had pulled out his wand and tapped the brick, the wall morphing into the archway for them to pass through.

The day had gone well enough so far, and he actually sort of enjoyed explaining the magical world to Annabeth. She had also enjoyed the architecture of the place, as most of the buildings wouldn’t have stood without magic. 

That was until he had decided to get new school robes, as the ones he had before hung off of his frame. He would get a few, enough to fit him while he was still gaining back muscle and weight. It had been fine for a little while, Madam Malkin had made a few comments about how much weight Draco had lost, and had asked if Annabeth needed robes too.

Draco ignored the comments, and had talked to Annabeth, really more listening as she had talked about the day, not noticing the arrival of people into the shop until he heard Madam Malkins shout, “I’ll be with you in a moment!”

Draco then turned to Annabeth as he couldn’t fully turn around, and was trying to judge whoever had walked in by her first impression of them. Her head had tilted slightly to the side, gray eyes staring them down, analyzing them. Draco kept his face neutral until he saw Harry Potter in the reflection of the mirror. He felt his anxiety spike as he had a staring competition with him in the mirror, which was broken when Annabeth stood up.

She was in muggle clothing, jeans and an orange CHB shirt on, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She crossed her arms, staring down the gaping trio. Draco was still stiff with anxiety, and due to the fact he was still being fitted for his robes, he couldn’t move. The air in the shop quickly thickened with tension, and he could tell even Madam Malkins could feel it. 

“Draco?” Annabeth asked tentatively, turning to look at him. Draco caught the shock in the trio’s faces when they realized he knew this person who was dressed in muggle clothing. 

“I’m fine.” He muttered, forcing his body to relax, though it really didn’t do much. He felt sick, his lungs wheezing slightly as he breathed. He ignored Annabeth's look, he knew she noticed, but he wasn’t going to say anything, not here. Apparently she had other ideas.

“Is there any way to speed this up a bit? We are on a bit of a deadline.” Annabeth spoke sharply and suddenly, causing Madam Malkins to poke him with a pin. She apologized when he winced back.

“I think I have all the measurements I need, but I will have to ship them.” She responded, turning to Draco. “Am I shipping these to your home when I am done?” 

Draco paused, questioning it. He didn’t want to risk sending them home in case Voldemort somehow found out he was in the country. “Could you hold them, and then ship them to Hogwarts? I’m afraid I won’t be at home for the rest of this summer.” He asked, ignoring the three pairs of eyes he could feel burning holes into his back. It was a partial lie, but he really could not risk it. Madam Malkin stared at him oddly, but she obliged. He then paid and almost ran out of the shop with the haste he used to leave.

He was just glad he hadn’t had to talk to Harry Potter. He could tell that he had remembered that day in the Department of Mysteries, and he wasn’t up to the questions. He did, however, have to explain to Annabeth who that was. 

–

Draco paced his room in the manor, focusing on the way the breeze blew through the open French doors, trying to calm himself. He had gotten back to the manor from camp just yesterday, having stayed after the war for a while longer, helping with the clean up. He sighed, rubbing his hands against his face, already wishing he was back at camp. Nothing felt right anymore, everything he knew was a lie, and at least he didn’t have to deal with the wizarding side of things at camp. 

At least he hadn’t until that letter from his mother.

He stopped pacing for a moment, standing in front of the mirror. His eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow, he looked like he had been released from Azkaban. His once perfectly tailored clothes hung loosely off his frame, but it was all he had. The earring with the silver scythe charm glittered as it dangled from his right ear. He had originally worn it as a bracelet when he had gotten it from his father, but the piercing had made actually getting the weapon form easier.

He stared at himself blankly as he wondered what his mother was going to think when she finally saw him, and how he would try to explain what happened this summer, trying to say everything to her in one day. Not to mention that she still had to explain to him everything that happened over the summer, no matter how much he didn’t want to hear it. She would probably cry, hold him tight, brush her fingers through his hair, and he would lean into her. Maybe he would cry, accepting everything that happened.

Or maybe he wouldn’t talk to her, maybe he would stay in here, safe in his room, until dinner, where it would be just him and his mother. He would run off after dinner, making up excuses that his mother would be safe if he didn’t talk to her at all.

He casted a wistful gaze out his window, eyes trailing over the gardens. She would be there, he knew she would. She most likely didn’t even know he was home, and if she did…

Draco walked towards the open French doors, stepping out in the warm summer air. He gazed across the neatly trimmed bushes, the smell of the roses and lavender heavy and intoxicating as he made his way into the garden. Bugs chirped from the grass and the bushes, and he felt like he was walking back into his childhood, before he knew he was a demigod. 

He followed the sound of running water, though he knew he didn’t need it as a guide. He could’ve closed his eyes and walked this way, never tripping or stumbling once. He breathed deeply, the environment finally calming him a bit as he grasped his first glimpse of his mother.

She looked as she always had, her blonde hair plaited elegantly into a braid, as she stared into the small pond before her. Draco noticed the expression on her face, the slight downward turn of her mouth, the raised inner corners of her eyebrows. He watched as her hands wrung softly together, she hadn’t noticed him yet.

He could still turn around, walk back, maybe fall asleep, or he could wander the gardens until he found the courage to come back. Instead he felt his mouth open, and heard himself say, “Mother?” In a voice that should have been too quiet and hoarse for a Malfoy.

Her head snapped towards him, her expression turning to hope for seconds. Draco felt his heart shatter for a moment as it seemed like his mother was looking through him. Then it cleared, her eyes focused on him, and so many emotions passed through her face, he could have spent a lifetime trying to name them all.

“Draco!” She cried, standing up, and running towards him, crushing him in a hug. He leaned into her, wrapping his own arms around her, holding tight. He breathed deeply, the smell of daffodils and wood smoke filling his nose. He could already feel the tears pricking at his eyes as he held tight to her, terrified that if he let go, she would flake away into gold dust.

Finally, after what had seemed like hours, they both pulled away. Draco felt as she ran her fingers through his hair, and he looked up, seeing her worried expression. “Come, sit.” She ushered, pulling him over to the bench, and he sat beside her, instantly leaning into her side.

She didn’t speak for a while, and he looked up, watching as she bit her lip slightly. He knew she was debating asking. Draco shifted, resting his head on her shoulder. He started to speak, telling her everything that happened over the summer, everything he remembered. He left out his conversation with Hecate however. His mother didn’t need to know, the information was already shocking enough to him, he didn’t want to know how she would react to it.

By the time Draco was done talking, she was crying as she cupped his cheek. Draco was crying as well, but not to the same extent as her. A few tears fell down his face, as that’s all he allowed. He heard her whisper, I’m sorry , and, this is all my fault . He didn’t reply, didn’t correct her, he just sat there with her, watching as the sun set, and letting the tears dry on his face.

—

By the time they had moved on to what she needed to tell him, they had moved inside, sitting in front of the fire in one of the many drawing rooms. He sat close to the fire, relishing the way it warmed his skin. He could feel the heat seeping into his bones, and traveling slowly up his arms and legs to warm the rest of his body.

Draco listened to her intently as she told him of everything that had happened, including Lucius’s imprisonment in Azkaban, which he had suspected. He also wasn’t surprised about the wizarding world finally learning that Voldemort was back, and he was sure that this year at Hogwarts was bound to be horrible.

He was even more surprised when she told him of the plans that Voldemort had for himself. He was a little glad he hadn’t been home the entire summer, he would have been a Death Eater if he hadn’t. That would have been an awkward conversation with his father.

After that they had risen to go eat dinner, and he followed behind his mother, deep in his thoughts about all that was to come after this.

—

Draco blinked, and he was laying in bed, staring at the pale green wall across from him. He could hear the chirp of crickets from outside, having never closed the French doors. He exhaled deeply, trying to recall the memory of dinner, but all he could remember was the setting sun.

He stared at the wall until everything was dark, and he could feel the toxic air fill his lungs. His hands felt the rough texture of stone as he pulled his body through the narrow passageway. The air was ‘cleaner’ here, though he was terrified he was going to run out of oxygen. Stone pressed from above and below, pressing into his back and chest. The only way to go was forwards, into the dark.

—

Draco woke up, gasping for air. He could still feel the press of stone against his chest and back, and the burn of toxic air in his lungs. He stumbled towards the still-open French doors, falling through the doorway, landing harshly in the dirt. He crawled out farther, his fingers digging into the cool wet soil, until his back was being warmed by the rising sun. 

He laid there for a while, breathing in the smell of the dirt and grass, and soaking up the morning sun. When he stood, his front half was soaked from dew. He didn’t care, like he might have a few years ago. He just went and washed up, changing into his school robes, the old ones that hung off of him. He didn’t want to change on the train.

He shoved the last few things in his trunks, sitting down on his bed. His mind wandered for the last few minutes he had left. He wondered how many times Voldemort had been at the manor since he was gone, what he had asked his mother, and how she would manage after he was at school.

He shook the thoughts from his head, standing and grabbing his trunks, and taking them to the foyer. He was glad Lucius wasn’t here, he would have chided him for carrying his luggage himself. He walked to the kitchen, grabbing a freshly baked muffin, and softly thanking the house elf. It felt odd to him, especially with having grown up never thanking them, thinking he was above it. He shook his head again and left.

—

Draco was extremely thankful that it was just his mother dropping him off at the train. She had apparated both of them there, claiming that she wanted to go out for a bit. Draco knew that she also didn’t want to be in the manor, not when Draco had been there for barely a day. He couldn’t imagine how lonely the manor was when there was no one there.

He turned to his mother, memorizing her face, though he knew he would never forget it. He hugged her, holding on tighter than he should have. He really didn’t want to go back to school, back to that environment he fostered. From that very first day, when he had met Harry, and had preached about pure-bloods and how much better they were. This was his legacy now, there was no changing what had happened, no matter how much he wished he could.

Draco was brought back to the present by the train whistle and his mother pushing him back. She looked sad, he realized. Worry swirled inside of him, he shouldn’t have visited, he should have stayed at camp until today, and had just taken himself here. Yet another thing to add to the list of things he wished he should have done differently.

“Goodbye Draco.” His mother said, looking slightly lost. Draco hated himself for leaving her, where she would have to be in that house alone, or worse, with Voldemort when he inevitably moved in. 

“Goodbye mother.” Draco responded, walking off, and boarding the train. He swallowed his emotions, and forced himself to walk down the busy aisle halls, even though his entire body was screaming at him to be elsewhere.

He passed by the compartment with Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. A part of him ached to go sit with his friends, but his mind reasoned that he didn’t want to sit there through the ‘mudblood’ comments, not to mention the questions they would undoubtedly ask. None of them noticed as he slipped by.

He searched for an empty compartment, and somehow he got lucky. He opened the door, shuffling inside, and pushing one of the trunks he carried into the luggage compartment above. He collapsed next to the window, leaning his head against it. This compartment was outside the station, and he had a clear view of the muggle city around the station. He sighed, his breath fogging against the window for a moment, before quickly evaporating.

He closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the train ride there, as well as the rest of the year that was sure to be awful. He already missed camp, and somewhere deep in him wished he had stayed.

Chapter Text

Draco was bored out of his mind. He had been stupid for deciding not to sit with his friends, the only people who marginally liked him at Hogwarts, even if it was just for his status. He sighed, knowing it was too late to just show up in the compartment. He leaned his head against the window, watching as the raindrops streaked against the glass. This was going to be a long train ride.

A few weeks ago, after the end of the Second Giant War.

Draco was in the Hades cabin, where he had been staying ever since he was claimed at the age of 13. He wasn’t a child of Hades, but since his father, Thanatos, didn’t have a cabin, and the Hermes cabin was still overrun as ever, he had been allowed to stay. There were plans to eventually build a cabin for Thanatos, but both his father and Draco had agreed to wait until the other gods and goddesses had their own. Hades also didn’t mind Draco staying, as long as he was respectful.

Draco stood suddenly when he saw who came into the Hades cabin, bowing just as quickly. Hecate stood before him, her hair dark and short, a sharp contrast to her green eyes that shone unsettlingly bright from the light emanating from herself. The light from the braziers of Greek fire in the cabin aided in this more.

“Lady Hecate,” He greeted, watching out of the corner of his eye as Nico bowed as well. He straightened, watching as she looked around the Hades cabin, her eyes eventually landing on Nico.

“Walk with me Draco?” Hecate asked, turning towards Draco. It wasn’t a request, and it seemed she was less a fan of the decorations in the Hades cabin than both Nico and Draco. 

He nodded, following her out of the cabin into the bright evening sun. He blinked a few times, trying in vain to force his eyes to adjust faster. Nervousness bit at him about what this could be about, he didn’t have much of an idea except for the fact it probably had to do with the wizarding side of things.

They walked for a bit before Hecate started to speak, “What I am about to tell you is important, and it will be hard to process. However, what you do with this information is entirely your choice. I will not tell you what to do or think, am I understood?” 

“I understand.” Draco responded, still on edge, but curiosity was starting to win over.  

“As you know, I created the wizarding world when I blessed a few mortals thousands of years ago, creating the first ever mortals that could control magic that were not my children. They eventually had their own children, and they often married each other, as the mortals of these times were not accepting of what was different. Not that it has changed much.” She paused for a moment, as if lost in thought.

“This divide created the pure-blood families, and they started to think of themselves as higher, more powerful or pure, than those who had children with muggles, or who had two muggle parents.” Hecate paused again, looking over at Draco to gauge his reaction so far. He was still listening, dread starting to well in his stomach about what this could be about.

“However, as they had more children, they grew farther and farther away from their roots, their history fading and changing with the passage of time. They forgot those original blessed few, and rejected the gods, instead focusing wholly on their magic. What they had forgotten is that muggle born wizards were blessed directly by me, in the same way those first wizards had been blessed by me.” Draco stopped walking for a moment, his brain ticking away at what this meant. The dread that had been pooling up the entire time settled at the top of his throat, and he felt sick.

Hecate continued, “Purebloods had actually led to the first non-magical child being born from magical parents. I had intended for my blessing to always pass down to the children, but there was a mutation formed, and it created a gene that led to the inability to inherit the magical trait.” She stopped walking, turning to look at Draco with what seemed like regret.

“You were one of these children, Draco. I blessed you with magic in the same way I would have blessed a muggle born child. The only reason I blessed you is because you are too valuable to the Wizarding War. If Voldemort hadn’t been around still, I wouldn’t have blessed  you, and your future would have been very different.” Hecate then waved her hand as if it wasn’t important.

Draco stared at her, an unnamed emotion curling beneath where that dread rested. It was hard enough when he had first found out he wasn’t a pureblood, even if he had the blood of a god in him. But this was different. The whole wizarding side of things that he had been told since he could remember was all a lie. He would have been kicked out of his home, probably given up when his parents found out he was a squib. He swallowed nervously, his eyes darting to the side. He bowed to Lady Hecate, he needed to leave, he needed to go think.

“I- thank you for telling me this, Lady Hecate.” He bowed again, before turning and walking away. He glanced back, watching as Hecate gazed at him for a moment. He turned, facing forwards, face unreadable.

-

Draco sat alone, still going through his thoughts. He thought of when he had first found out he was a demigod, and how Lucius wasn’t his real father. He had been shocked, and it certainly didn’t help when he found out that the non-negotiable camp he had to go to was called Camp Half-Blood . He remembered the way he had sneered, lip curling upwards, and the tired expression of his mothers face as she explained it to him.

She had told him that the gods technically didn’t pass down any genetic material to their children, and that he was still pureblood since she was. That had been enough to calm him, and so he went, snapping at anyone who called him a half-blood (though he was undoubtedly one). 

This was all different though, as he had often relied on the idea that he was a pureblood. It was comforting to him, a rationalized constant, and gods knew he had needed the comfort. But to know he had been born without the one thing that could have defined him, and that purebloods were the cause of that? Where would he have been if Hecate hadn’t blessed him? 

Maybe he would have grown up in an orphanage with vague memories of his mother and things that shouldn’t have been possible. Dreams of someone singing him to sleep, a soft smile on her face as the fake stars twinkled above. The sharp but alluring scent of the tangerines ripe on the branches in summer. He doubted Lucius would have wanted him if he didn’t have magic, and he assumed it wasn’t a fight his mother would win. Maybe he would have been spending the whole school year at camp then, slowly losing his British accent for an American one.

Maybe he would have died young and alone, never knowing his godly side. No magic wouldn’t have allowed him safe travel over the ocean, and he doubted he would have lived traveling on a plane. He reasoned that however he could have died would have been written off; an unusual death for what had been an unusual child. 

Draco shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts of what could have happened to him if Hecate didn’t bless him. There was no reason to dwell on what could have happened, not when he was here now in the present. He owed his life in the wizarding world to her, and maybe even his whole life.

—

Draco snapped awake from what he thought was the sound of his compartment door opening, hitting his head on the window. He cussed silently to himself, putting his hand on his forehead, rubbing the spot he had hit. He looked at the doorway of the compartment, frowning at the lack of a person.

He considered going back to sleep, but he didn’t know how long he had been asleep for, and he really didn't want to accidentally miss the stop at Hogwarts. He shuffled his feet before standing, and heading for the bathroom.

He really shouldn’t have gone to the bathroom. He stared awkwardly at Blaise as he washed his hands. He noticed the way Blaise’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, until they became sharp and focused when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Draco? I thought you might have dropped off the Earth. At least with how no one knew where you were the entire summer, and how nobody saw you on the train.” Blaise stated in a bland and uninterested way, but Draco caught the way his eyes harshly wrung over Draco’s features. He knew he saw how underweight he was, the choppy short cut of his hair, the silver earring hanging from his ear, and the thousands of scars that littered his hands. He saw how his lip pulled back in distaste, but he thought he might have seen a flash of something that looked like concern ? Draco pulled down his sleeves, hiding most of the length of his arms from view, but it still left his scarred palms uncomfortably bare.

Blaise stared at him for a few more moments, before brushing past him. Draco took that as his chance to make a very dignified escape, definitely not speed walking back to his compartment. When he finally closed the door behind him, he felt like he was going to be sick. Anxiety from his own actions clawed thickly at his stomach, slowly climbing its way up his throat. He started to pace in the compartment, or at least the closest thing he could do to pacing.

He didn’t realize he hadn’t closed the blinds, as he hadn’t really ever before. His group had been comfortable and, in a sense, powerful enough that they had never felt the need to close the blinds. He hadn’t noticed Potter and Longbottom pass by on the way back to their compartment, or the way Potter had stared at him like a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve.

—

In the next compartment over, Harry and Neville had just returned from Slughorn's lunch, and Harry was absolutely burning with questions. The memory of the day in the Department of Mysteries had returned to him as well, and he was confused how he had forgotten this. He needed to tell Hermione and Ron, hopefully they were in a listening mood today.

“How’d it go?” Hermione asked, looking up from the large book she had open in her lap. 

“It was horrible, I thought he wasn’t ever going to let us leave.” Harry complained, flopping down next to Ron. He took the chocolate frog that was offered to him, catching it mid-jump as he opened the package. Suddenly he straightened in his seat, eyes wide, and startling everyone in the compartment.

“Oh and there's this too, I don’t know how I forgot about it, but you guys remember the day in the Department of Mysteries after Sirius fell through the veil?” Harry asked them, straightening up even more. Everyone nodded, curious as to where this was going, and why he was bringing it up. Harry wasn’t very willing to talk about that day, especially with how close to death Sirius had come.

“I swear it was Malfoy who had stepped out from Veil, holding up Sirius. I made eye contact with him.” Harry noticed the look Hermione and Ron shared. He wondered briefly what he looked like to them at that moment.

“I’m being serious.” He tried to reason with Ron and Hermione, but at least he had caught the attention of Luna and Neville. They seemed to believe him a little more. At least he assumed that; he could tell with Neville, but Luna…

“How would he have even been there Harry? He would have been at Hogwarts, there’s no way he could have gotten into the Department of Mysteries. Let alone go through the veil, and then what? Just lurk around back there until someone happens to fall through? Not to mention how that place felt.” Hermione ranted, and Harry got the feeling that maybe he talked about Malfoy a little too much. But Harry noticed how Hermione's eyes drifted upwards in thought; there might actually be something about what he said that Hermione thought was true. 

She sighed, noticing his expectant looks. “I just-” She stopped for a moment, running a hand through her curly hair. “It doesn’t seem right that Sirius lived. Everything in my mind reasoned that no one should be able to pass through the arch, at least not pass through and live to tell the tale. I can’t believe it was Malfoy who was the one to push Sirius out from the veil, but…” She trailed off, an unpleasant look on her face. Harry couldn’t make out what exactly she was feeling at the moment, and with a glance at Ron, it seemed he couldn’t either.

“I might be willing to accept the idea that someone did push Sirius out. I don't know who or what, but there might be some truth there.” She looked very displeased with the words that exited her mouth, but there was this firm acceptance behind it.

Silence hung thick in the compartment for a moment as the others registered that Hermione might actually believe at least a section of Harry’s theory. Harry looked resigned for a moment, before his emotions switched, and he seemed somewhat thankful that Hermione at least acknowledged it could be true. 

“But, as far as we know, it could have been a ghost becoming corporeal for a few moments. We still have no idea what the veil does to the living or dead, and there's too many questions that we will never get answers to.” Hermione stated, fixing her eyes back on her book. 

Harry just sighed, knowing that going through Hermione to at least try and theorize would lead to many hours in the library, and a lot of unwilling research. He resigned to sink back into his seat and resume eating the chocolate frog, until Ron spoke up.

Apparently Ron wanted to kill the peace, or at least get this bomb of news out of the way before Harry found out on his own. “Harry, guess who is a new Slytherin prefect this year?” 

Harry looked over at him curiously, but still remained in his shrimp state. “Is it a fifth year death eater I don’t know?” He asked glumly, not noticing the glare Hermione gave Ron.

“No, it’s Theodore Nott. Malfoy gave up his prefect status.” Ron stated a bit too excitedly. Harry sat up, shocked that the Draco Malfoy had given up his prefect position. Herminone resignedly sighed, eyes still fixated on her book.

“Are you sure he did? The same Malfoy who was in the Inquisatorial Squad?” Harry questioned intently, eyes wide. The compartment shared a glance with each other, except Luna, who was still invested in her Quibbler magazine. 

Ron looked slightly uncomfortable, even though he brought this upon himself. Harry looked shocked, finally sitting back, and staring up at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. Ron took this time to reply.

“Yes, it’s strange isn't it? He almost seems like a new person this year, how he was with that muggle, and how he practically ran out of Madam Malkin’s.” Ron stated, wanting to toe the line of Draco’s peculiarity, but didn’t want to indulge in Harry’s obsession on the topic. 

Harry seemed to take the hint, and remained as calm as he could, despite the fact they were talking about his favorite person of interest. “Bet he still hasn’t changed though. Maybe it was all a ruse.” Harry theorized. This got Hermione’s attention.

“Everyone is capable of changing Harry, even Draco.” She supplied, moving to rest her hands in the middle of her book.

Harry scoffed, crossing his arms. To him Draco Malfoy changing character was as likely as Voldemort wanting to adopt and care for muggle orphans. Hermione sighed at his reaction, but did not move her hands to return to her book. She glanced at Ron, who seemed to be in deep thought.

“Everyone changes, if you don't, you’d be rather boring.” Luna stated, looking up, her silver eyes slightly glassy.

Harry didn’t know how to feel about that comment, but he gave some thought to it. He supposed she was right, people do change all the time, usually in small ways, but he couldn’t wrap his head around such extreme changes. 

If people could change so majorly, then why did his aunt and uncle never change? Or even Dudley, who has had to have seen the effect his bullying had, the lasting pain and, if not physical, the mental scars it left. Did he just enjoy the pain of others so much that change was impossible? He frowned, looking for something new to distract his thoughts. He turned to see what Neville was doing, as he had been, wisely, avoiding the conversation the entire time. 

Neville noticed his discomfort and started idly chatting with Harry, Ron joining in, glad the Malfoy shaped discussion was over. Hermione, pleased with the new energy level, returned to reading.

There was only a few hours left until the train reached Hogsmeade station, and it would truly be the start of sixth year.