Draco's Revival || Draco Malfoy

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Chapter 3

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Draco mindlessly twirled his spoon in his goblet using wandless magic he practiced during the summer. He did it so effortlessly he hardly had to concentrate. Professor (now Headmistress) McGonagall stood in front of the houses and spoke loudly about something that had to do with finding yourselves again and celebrating the victory.

Draco told himself that he was fine in celebrating nothing, but it wasn't fine. What was he to celebrate when it had costed his reputation? He was celebrating nothing. He found it a waste to celebrate, so after eating he headed straight to the Slytherin dungeons, but something blocked his way. It was the girl on the train, Araceli Danger. It was kind of an ironic name since she didn't seem at all dangerous.

She was standing beside the Ravenclaw table, her friends watched her with concerned eyes. Draco lingered awkwardly, not knowing if he should shove her out of the way or simply ask her to sit down but he decided too long. Araceli had already turned around to find Draco standing behind her. He felt embarrassed as his cheeks turned a slight color of pink. Why couldn't he have just shoved her out of the way, then he wouldn't have to look her in the eye?

"I'm sorry, Draco." Araceli spoke over the loud noise of the Great Hall. She blushed and shook her head at herself. At least he was not the only one embarrassed over the entire ordeal.

Frankly, it was not a big deal but to Draco the little things in life seemed to only add up. He felt idiotic for being so awkward. If it was himself two years ago he would have walked right past her without a single glance her way, even if he bumped into her.

Draco then realized that he had been standing there, staring at nothing for too long. Araceli seemed to have noticed as she looked back up at Draco from her seated position with a questionable look on her face.

With his heart racing he quickly walked away, pulling at his green tie suddenly feeling choked by it. How much pride did he have left? If he still had it, it was not much.

Entering the common room he was greeted with nausea. Placing a hand over his abdomen he swallowed the bile down his throat.

Flashbacks swam through his mind of year six. He spent most of his nights out here on the couch, so exhausted he couldn't even make it down the steps to his dormitory. Then he remembered his second year with Crabbe and Goyle speaking about the Chamber of Secrets.

It was just a memory now.

What were they really celebrating in the Great Hall? Was it just because Harry Potter destroyed the Dark Lord and the Wizarding World was saved? Or was it to finally break apart his family, keeping them from the eternal glory Draco's father had so much engraved into his mind.

Draco hadn't accepted the Dark Lord's wishes out of spite, no, he wanted that same glory Potter had. He wanted his family to be second in command like they were before he came back. Draco was blinded, thinking that it would be easy to kill Headmaster Dumbledore. He convinced himself that Dumbledore was a terrible old man who's time was coming up shortly.

Once his second attemps failed and he almost killed two people, he soon realized it wasn't easy. His anxiety consumed him, every opportunity he had, he would chicken-out and turn the other way. Dumbledore suspected him but not once did he confront Draco about it. He wondered—why?

Draco found himself stumbling over to the stairs feeling very sick. He covered his mouth with his hand running over to the restrooms.

That night at the Astronomy Tower, Draco was so afraid. His wand pointed at Dumbledore's chest, he had so easily disarmed the old wizard. It was as if he was going to accept death, but Draco's hand shook violently.

He remembered how kind Dumbledore was at the moment, holding his hands up in surrender to Draco. He offered him and his family protection from the Dark Lord, something Draco almost thought about, but then they showed up.

The Death Eaters he released into the castle, if he couldn't kill him then they would. That was Draco's initial plan, but in that private moment between the two he began to regret his actions. He was wrong, but it was too late to fix his mistakes.

Draco collapsed on his knees hurling the contents of what he had just ate into the toilet. It burned his throat making him groan in discomfort. A tear began to run down his face as he leaned back against the wall, breathing hard.

Draco felt his throat tighten until a sob finally released out of his mouth. He cupped his face into his hands. The war had destroyed everything he knew. Everyone did not accept him anymore. For once in Draco's life he felt very alone. He had no one to run to anymore, not his father, not Crabbe or Goyle, not even Professor Snape.

He was fine in celebrating nothing, but once nothing became something he felt all the blame was focused on him. But little did he know that he was the only one blaming himself.