365 days [d.m. + h.g.]

[epilogue]

1 Day After

Draco Lucius Malfoy learned many things growing up in a pureblood aristocracy.

From his father, he learned how to stand tall and proud, how to best embody the Malfoy name. He learned what was considered weak, including admitting to faults and accepting when you're in the wrong. Weak was anything that wasn't being the best, best at Quidditch, best in the class, Prefect, Head Boy, before taking over the family business.

He had never quite fulfilled that role. He wasn't best at Quidditch, he lost to Harry every time, his arrogance causing his downfall each match. He wasn't best in his classes, and second was the first to lose. He was Prefect, sure, but Head Boy hadn't happened, his years at Hogwarts stolen by the war.

He was supposed to be the best prodigal Death Eater, he was chosen. But he couldn't even kill Dumbledore when tasked to do so and he faltered and criedin front of the deceased Headmaster. His father would've disowned him on spot if he had seen it.

From his aunt, he learned many things. Many cruel things. The unforgiveables, how best to cast a crucio, the way that would ensure the most pain. He learned how to torture, how to embrace the insanity within. The insanity Draco wasn't sure he didn't have. No, at the moment, he was convinced there was too much madness within his bloodline. It would destroy him if he didn't do it himself first.

From godfather and favorite professor – though he would've denied it if the man was still alive – he learned how to control and maintain himself. Occlumency. Something that saved his life on many occasions. He learned how to block and prevent any raiding of his mind, even under torture. He learned how to build walls and file away memories that needed to be hidden. He learned how to maintain the coldness that a Malfoy was supposed to have, to hide the fear that wracked his soul every day the Dark Lord resided within the Manor. He owed his life to the man, not that there was much to living anymore.

From his mother, he learned how to glide, how to walk and talk and breathe aristocracy. She was the epitome of the perfect pureblood wife and he was supposed to want a woman exactly like her when it was time to marry. He learned how to love from her, though. She taught him how to embrace the emotions that he was supposed to deny. She showed him how give his entire heart to those he loved, telling him how love was a strength.

She didn't warn him that it was also a weakness. She didn't warn him that when the one he gave his entire heart to was gone, that he would have nothing left.

She taught him that what made a person was their heart, but she didn't warn him that that meant giving your heart to the one you loved meant you were giving them everything you were, everything you are, everything you will be, everything you could be.

He learned more things when he abandoned that aristocracy.

From Potter, he learned forgiveness and second chances. The scarred man was almost never in the same safehouse as him, off on the hunt for the horcruxes, but when they were together, they learned how they each had changed and grown. Draco had apologized multiple times, ignoring the pain that echoed in his mind at ignoring his father's advice, and Potter accepted each one and even offered one of his own. They created an unlikely friendship.

From Longbottom, Draco learned how to be accepting and brave. It almost made him throw up in his mouth when he thought about the man he used to consider a faulty Gryffindor, the hat fucked up, he belonged in Hufflepuff. But Longbottom proved unyieldingly brave in every situation. Not just the war, but when he had to break up fights between the kid soldiers with too much at stake and too much anger to tolerate. When he ignored the anger of his fellow DA members to befriend and forgive Draco, it had to be the bravest thing Longbottom had done. Draco didn't care about the acts of heroism he did in the war, becoming the blond's friend was Longbottom's bravest feat.