Complicated | Draco Malfoy

TWENTY

As the Beauxbatons carriage lifted off into the grey sky, fading into the clouds like some distant dream, we all stood in the courtyard for a while longer, as if rooted to the spot. There was an unspoken heaviness in the air, a collective understanding that things would never be the same. The tournament was over, but it wasn't the relief we'd all expected. Now, there was only a feeling of unease, like the world had tipped off balance, and none of us knew how to find our footing again.

Draco broke the silence. "So... summer holidays soon." His voice sounded strange—detached, as if he was talking more to fill the void than because he had something to say. "Bet it'll be a real treat, huh?"

I looked at him, trying to catch his eye, but he was staring straight ahead, his face unreadable. "Yeah," I replied softly. "A real treat." The thought of going home—home, where we were supposed to relax, to forget about school, and just be normal for a couple of months—felt surreal. What was normal anymore? How were we supposed to go back to our lives after everything that had happened?

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had moved a little closer now, and I could hear snippets of their conversation. Ron was asking Harry if he'd be going to the Burrow again, and Harry was mumbling something about the Dursleys, his face darkening at the mention of them. It struck me then—none of us really knew what summer would bring. In years past, it was a time to look forward to, to get away from the pressure of classes and exams, to visit family or go on holiday. But this summer... this summer was different.

"I'm not sure what to expect," I admitted, my voice quiet. "It's like... everything's changed now. Going home feels weird, like pretending none of this happened."

Draco finally turned to look at me, his eyes clouded with something I couldn't quite place. "We can't pretend. Not anymore," he said, his voice low. "My father... he's going to be involved in all of this. I know it."

There it was—the fear he'd been holding onto since that night in the maze. The weight of being a Malfoy, of knowing what that name meant in the new world we were stepping into. I didn't know how to respond, so I just squeezed his hand. We were all terrified in our own ways.

Across the courtyard, I saw Professor McGonagall speaking quietly to some students, her face as stern as ever but her eyes betraying a deep sadness. Even the teachers, who were supposed to have all the answers, seemed lost in the aftermath of what had happened. There was no going back.

"I reckon we should just try and make the best of it," Ron said, loud enough now that we could all hear. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. "I mean, it's summer, right? Maybe a few weeks at home will help clear our heads."

"Maybe," Hermione said, though she didn't sound convinced. "But I don't think any of us will be able to stop thinking about... everything. I mean, Voldemort's back. And the Ministry—"

"The Ministry doesn't want to believe it," Harry cut in, his voice sharper than usual. "They're too scared to admit it."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance but didn't argue. We all knew Harry was right. The world outside Hogwarts, the one we were supposed to be returning to for the summer, was in denial. But that didn't change the fact that Voldemort was back, and those of us who had been here, who had seen it with our own eyes, would never be the same.