I Noticed..

Chapter 1: The Mother

3rd Pov ∆

Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table, it had been a while since the war, he was  an eighth year and he was expecting an unpleasant card from his father from Askaban after tossing his wand to Harry.  He actually hadn't spoken to Harry since then, glancing over at the Gryffindor table where the 'golden boy' Harry Potter was surrounded by his classmates who wouldn't get over his-their- accomplishment. Damnit, it still frustrated him even now.

Draco turned his eyes away furiously, he had saved potters life, went against his father and the dark arts and even gave him his wand and received no sort of thank you for it. He blamed Magonall for wiping memories of the people involved but once the mention of Draco being an ex Deatheater got around, nobody wanted to be around him other than his previous friends.  He snapped from his rage when an owl swooped down and dropped two letters in front of him. Two of them? Odd. He opened the first one with a red crescent on it in the shape of a dementor. From his father, it seems. He picked it up,  eyes tracing over the letters which read :

'Draco. I despise you for turning your back to the Dark Lord and letting me get imprisoned. You threw a Potter you wand Draco, could you stoop any lower. You should be here too, taking my place but instead you go back to Hogwarts and try to put all of this behind you. Well you can't. I'll always be with you Draco. In your head and veins no matter how much you wish me gone. I will escape and I will kill you just as you let him die."

Dracos hands trembled but he soon forced them still as he folded up the note and put it in his pocket. He slowly ran his hand over the second letter, much thicker than the first one. A dark green hold with a velvety feeling against his fingers as he opened it. It was from his mother.

"Draco, my son. I never wished for this to happen. I was so happy to hear you could finish your education and become a fine wizard like I wanted you to be."

Draco smiled lightly to himself he was so thankful that he wasn't going to be alone when the holidays came by.,

"But I hate to inform you that by the time this gets to you I will no longer be alive."

His distant smile fell, 'dead?' his only thought as he continued reading.

"Your Father and his connections were sworn to have me dead and if you are reading this I currently am. But I'm thankful I knew so I have sent something for you in the letter."

Dracos heart seemed to stop as he looked back to the letter which contained small containers, a ring and a small blood filled vile. His eyes threatened to tear up as he read the last of the letter.

"These are the memories , my favorite memories of you and I. My ring you got for me for my Birthday and my own blood to remind you who's son you truly are. Draco, I want you to be strong and continue on for me but not for the Malfoy name. For the Black name. For my name. I love you my son, I'll be watching over you.'

-Mother

Pansy turned away from her mail and looked at Draco questioningly, "What did you get?"

He didn't say anything. He gathered his things and quickly left the Great Hall, slow burning tears falling from his eyes as he ran down the halls. He walked to the Slytherin portrait and whispered the password before heading to his dorm, locking  his door. He slowly slid down it and before he knew it he was crying.

And that's all he did.

He cried and cried until he heard Pansy at the door, knocking but he didn't care.

He buried his face into his knees as he stayed on the floor, still as more tears just seemed to flow from his ever grey eyes.

His mother was dead.

His father threatened to destroy his life from Askaban and now he was doing the one thing he swore never to do again. Swore to never do the day his father threatened to beat him the way he did his mother.

Dying. Askaban. Mother. Gone. Harry. Savior.

"I'm always here Draco."

He turned around to find the voice but there was no one in sight. He couldn't tell if it was his mother or father, maybe even Voldemort calling to him

During this time, everything felt more dead and lifeless than it had in a while. His skin felt like ice, the floor felt dry and cold and even his warm bed looked like a box with a blanket on it to him. The only warmth he had was from his tears as they streamed down his face. Time seemed to stop as he wished this was a terrible dream. His father was out of his way, his mother was still safe, Voldemort was dead. Why was that all too much to wish for.

And bloody hell, he just couldn't stop crying.