Draco lazily stretched out on the drawing room study. Days were long and boring, since a wizard has trouble finding a respectable job when said wizard is the youngest Death Eater on record. Besides, Draco didn't have to work with his father's gold. Even with a stable job, Draco thought, he would still be just as weary and lonely.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had long since given up on their son. Draco barely spent any time in his own home, but his parents never blamed him for that, for Malfoy Manor held far too many dark secrets and haunting memories. These days, all three Malfoys barely showed themselves in public. When they did come out of the woodwork, the Daily Prophet writers would suddenly be spinning tales of heretical pureblood conspiracy, only to not catch a glimpse of the Malfoys for another six months. But one Malfoy in particular was careful to not be seen, and managed to escape the treachery of society and the traumatic imprints of his own home to a certain place.
This place was of an unknown location, and guarded by powerful magic. But there was nothing special about such a place. There was just the endless sea of trees, a river, and of course the omnipresent cloudy sky. A there was a bench, placed so by Draco himself. He too had not forgotten the longest night of his life, when he was saved by Harry Potter more than once. Draco could have apologized for the behavior of his youth, but Slytherins never swallow their pride, at least not first. All these thoughts and regrets meander through his mind, just like the river in which he can see his own cold, dead eyes staring back at him.
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Scars We Share
FanfictionTwo people drastically changed. Both scarred by the horrors of war and plagued by expectation, they somehow find one another and try to make sense of all their pain and suffering.
