Prologue

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Draco barely spoke anymore; not to his professors, not to his friends, not to anyone. He was ashamed of his own actions and angry at his parents for theirs and he didn't know what he could say to make it right. In the end, he had just decided to keep to himself for fear of invoking more hatred from his fellow students. He'd never felt more alone.

~ Ж ~

Harry supposed he should be happy seeing as his mortal enemy had been defeated, his friends were safe and his schoolwork was... well, back to being completed-ish, but the Boy Who Lived was still uneasy, and he wasn't entirely sure as to why. He'd just put it down to his old habit of constantly being on the lookout for danger at every turn, looking over his shoulder, waiting for Voldemort to strike but deep down he knew that that wasn't it.

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