Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

Start-of-Term Feast

Draco sat between Pansy and Blaise in a state of quiet detachment. It was as though he was experiencing an out-of-body experience. He could vaguely hear Headmistress McGonagall addressing the assembly as she welcomed one and all back to Hogwarts.

Draco swept his gaze across the Great Hall. Everything looked the same. The House Tables, the beautiful enchanted ceiling, the faces of excited youths. It was as if the War had never happened.

But upon closer look, there were glaring differences. For one, it was now McGonagall and not Dumbledore welcoming them all back. Draco felt an agonizing twist in his gut as he recalled his former Headmaster. Releasing a strangled huff of air, he shook his head at Pansy as she gave him a worried look. Smiling reassuringly, she gently grabbed one of his hands, squeezed it, and simply held it. He smiled, squeezing her hand back, grateful for her unswerving friendship.

Draco let his gaze wander down the Staff Table and noted with a painful twinge in his chest that he'd never see his godfather's intimidating visage up there ever again.

Another difference was the fact that there was now an extra House Table set up in the Great Hall. It was smaller and occupied by what McGonagall now referred to as the Eighth Years --- the first ever in Hogwarts history. They didn't belong to any House. They were just their own group. This was where Draco now sat.

However, in Draco's opinion, the most glaring difference of all was the absence of a certain trio. It was strange sitting in the Great Hall and not seeing the Golden Boy and his two sidekicks. His eyes seem to be seeking out glimpses of raven hair and startling green eyes. But nothing. It was disconcerting. Draco wasn't sure if he was more relieved than bereft. But the ache of longing in his chest was undeniable. It was making his bloody left arm numb.

Furtively, Draco glanced at the Gryffindor Table and easily spotted a splash of flaming red hair. Ginevra Weasley was in attendance. She sat there, stoic and quiet, eyes trained on McGonagall. Draco began to wonder if she missed Harry --- he didn't even remember exactly when he started thinking of the Chosen One as Harry and not Potter. He knew Harry and the Weaselette had begun dating before the War. He couldn't help but wonder if they were still together. Just that thought left a decidedly sour taste in his mouth.

With a sigh, he glanced down at his goblet of pumpkin juice, mentally mocking himself. He'd made a vow that he would no longer lie to himself. He was finally free to admit, at least to himself, that his feelings for Harry was the complete opposite of what he'd led others to believe. He was done repressing his emotions. Even if he never gave voice to it or acted on it, at least now, he was free to revel in it. It will undoubtedly bring him pain and suffering, but he was completely fine with that.

Draco had hoped to see Harry again, despite being also terrified at the thought. The last time he'd seen Harry had been during his Trials when the latter had testified on his behalf. It had come as quite a shock to Draco, humbling and mortifying. He'd hoped to try and make amends with the Golden Trio and maybe start anew. He'd even foolishly entertained the thought of forming a friendship with Harry since that was probably the closest he'd ever get, if he was lucky. But even that chance was completely out of his reach now because Harry didn't return to Hogwarts for his final year. Whatever flimsy connection Draco ever had with him had finally been severed.

McGonagall's piercing clap jolted Draco from his reverie. He looked up and caught a few glances thrown his way. He was surprised when only a few of the gazes held contempt. Most seem to be weighing him, searching him. Ignoring them, he instead focused his attention towards the grand doorway and a small smile graced his lips at the sight of the awestruck First Years filing into the Great Hall for sorting.

Placing his elbow onto the table, Draco propped his face on his hand. He idly watched as one beaming child after another was sorted into their Houses. He smiled just a tad bit wider, every time Slytherin gained a new Housemate, amidst excited cheers and hollers.