Maybe I Hate The Way I Am

Ch 1 - The Return

TW: burn marks, anxiety attack

Draco's POV:
I hadn't want to come back to Hogwarts, after-all I has created many foul memories for others and myself. But wondering around the Malfoy Manor all day wasn't much better.

"It's going to be alright, my dragon." My mother, Narcissa Malfoy, whispered into my ear.

"We shall see about that mother," I sighed. I could feel my eyebags deepening, I haven't slept properly in a week.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a figure's eyes burning into the side of my head.

Potter. The 'magnificent' boy who defeated The Dark Lord. I turned to face him, he changed. He's taller, and less, happy. Is he not coping as well either? I can't tell if his eyes are staring at me with hate, or wonder, either way it does not matter.

I turned back to my mother and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Please be safe my love."

"Don't worry mother." I replied quietly, my voice was hoarse.

As she left, I turned towards the Great Hall and flinched, its almost like yesterday Bellatrix destroyed everything.

I sighed. I could tell H- I mean Potter was still staring at me, but I chose to ignore him.

As I walked into the Hall, it was silent, all eyes turned on me. I was a bit late. I winced at the sight if everyone looking at me, surprised, disgusted, scared, and annoyed looks were thrown at me.

I sighed as I made my way to the 8th years table, it looked like the houses were combined. Just lovely. This year my goal to not talk to anyone, and avoid a certain someone.

I rest my head in the palm of my hand and zone out at Miss Mcgonagall's speech. I sigh as I realize Dumbledore is the one supposed to be doing it but he's - nevermind.

I start to zone out again, completely unaware of my own mindless actions.

Harry's POV:

I stepped out of The Great Hall, there was too many people filling in the seats and I felt myself suffocating with how many people there were. As I step out, I catch a glimpse of a familiar harsh blonde hair figure in the corner of my eye. Malfoy. I didn't think he would return, I mean he is a deatheater after all. But I am not 100% sure what side he was on during the war, I still don't know what side he's on. Nonetheless I plan to make things right with him. Sure, he tormented me and my mates but people change.

As I take a few deep breaths to calm down I see Dr- I mean Malfoy kiss his mother goodbye and turn towards The Great Hall. I can see dark, purple eyebags under his eyes. He sighed seemed to flinch as he started to walk towards the doors.

I watched as he opened the doors and the hall went silent. I wince, Malfoy seemed to tense as disgusted looks were thrown his way. I should help him out, except I doubt he wants my help. Or any help at that matter. Malfoy always seemed confident, independent, and stuck up. But now, hes, different.

He's not walking as tall, though his posture is still quite nice. He has no more gell in his hair, its all messy and free. He sighs a lot, and has eyebags. I also know he saw me watching him, he seemed, terrified knowing i'm here.

I know he has some PTSD from the war, just like anyone else. But that doesn't mean he shouldn't get help, either.

I sigh as I walk back into The Great Hall and towards the 8th year tables. I sit across from Malfoy but he doesn't seem to notice. He winces as Mrs. Mcgonagall starts her speech, but he seems to be in a daze, lost in his own thoughts.

Just barely into the speech I notice Malfoy itching himself, and it slowly turned more aggressive until it was making that noise. I turn towards him, he was small sweat on his forehead and he's starting to itch even more, his eyes seem to be unfocused. Draco is slightly shaking now, the people around us take some notice and stare, either in very slight concern or disgust.

"Malfoy?" I ask.

No answer.

"Malfoy." I say a bit louder.

No reply.

"Malfoy!"

He snaps out of his gaze and looks at me, his eyes filled with fear.

"Erm, are you, alright?"

"I'm fine, Potter." He said with his usual sneer, but no venom behind it like I wouldve' expected.

"Jeez sorry." I whisper.

Malfoy sighs as he rests his head in between his hands. Is he really that tired? I wonder when the last time he had a good nights rest was.

Draco's POV:

My breathing hitched as I scratched my arm, I was lost in foul memories and I didn't even mean to be.

"-foy." I hear someone calling my name but I keep scratching.

"-alfoy." I can't hear, I can't breathe.

"Malfoy!" I take a deep, rasping breathe. And I stop scratching the shit out of my arm.

"Erm, are you, alright?" I hear someone say, I look up. Potter, Of fucking course.

"I'm fine Potter." I glare, trying to play it off. After-all, Malfoys never let their guard down.

"Jeez sorry."

I sigh as I turn towards Professor Mcgonagll once again. The same usual rules, no wandering the forest at night, the prohibited hallways, blah blah blah.

I notice Weaslbee and the 'mudblood' sitting with Potter. I want to stop calling the girl that filthy slur but Malfoys hate muggle borns, right?

I just want to go to my dorm and sleep - if that's even possible anymore. I'm tired of everything, in just one night I managed to almost have an anxiety attack over nothing. With the Golden Trio watching, and the hall to. How magnificent.

Finally, we are allowed to follow prefects into out dorms. I run up the stairs and find my cursed name Draco Lucious Malfoy. I sigh, I look to my right to see my wall buddy. I freeze. Harry James Potter. I stare blankly at the name. Out of all people, bloody Harry Potter? This is officially the end of me.

I walk into my dorm and see slytherin theme everywhere, a poster, green and black, and my old diary and sketchbook. Mother must have sent it. I smile slightly.

I hear Potter's door open and shut, I freeze once again. I pray he doesn't try to engage any conversation with me. I mean, by the way he was staring at me before, he probably hates me, which I take as a good sign.

I walk into my bathroom and look in the mirror, I sigh with some horror, I look absolutely terrible my hair is matted and messy, Im pale as ever, and you can see defined cheekbones and eyebags.

I roll up my suit sleeve. The DeathMark. Its hideous, but its covered with my attempts of getting it off. I wince as I see the harsh burn mark when I first got it. I really thought I could get it off that way, how stupid.

I sigh as I creep into bed. I won't get any sleep but thats okay. I need to think, need to escape from reality.

Because reality right now, is a real pain in the arse.
(1251 words)

A/N Minor edits (7-18-23)