Finally (An Eighth year Drarry story)

Eighth year, Sarcastic Yay.

A/N: I don't own the characters, obviousy JK Rowling does. Thank you for being here and reading this story! @dracyo and @goldentruth813 on Tumblr gave me inspiration for Draco's punk-grunge character. 

Draco packed the last of his things in his monogrammed trunk he'd had since first year. It was probably the only consistent thing in his life right now. His mother had left Lucius following the war when he was taken to Azkaban for his part in aiding Voldemort. Luckily, the ministry had pardoned Draco and Narcissa but only because their golden boy Harry Potter had stood up for them and gave witness that they weren't willing followers but forced to.

But when his mother filed the divorce papers, Malfoy Manor didn't recognize them as members of the Malfoy family, and therefore the wards didn't accept them anymore. So, Draco and Narcissa were living in a countryside manor that used to belong to Narcissa's parents. This meant it was a Black family home and both he and his mother legally changed their names so the home's wards would accept them.

As Draco looked in the mirror before he left, he tugged on the left arm of his black long-sleeved Cranberries tee and glanced down at his distressed black jeans and forest green converse. In the past four months since the war, Draco had developed an affinity for all things muggle. Without his controlling father to tell him that everything muggle didn't belong in their world, Draco's curiosities got the better of him and he ended up falling into the muggle grunge scene hard, he'd even been to some underground muggle clubs for several concerts. Grunge spoke to his angsty side that just wanted to let all his feelings pour out that he'd had to keep hidden during the war when everything was about maintaining the family's "reputation." Draco scoffed to himself, his father had worked so hard to maintain a reputation he ended up ruining himself by following a genocidal maniac. Draco rolled his eyes, "thanks for the lifetime of trauma, Lucius." He thought to himself.

"Draco!" Narcissa called from downstairs. "We'd better be leaving or you're going to miss your train, dear!"

"Coming, mother!" Draco tugged his left sleeve again, adjusted his black beanie, and grabbed his trunk, ready to head to the train station and be on his way to Hogwarts for his "eighth year," seeing as his seventh didn't really count. Draco sighed, trying to prepare himself for the hate everyone most definitely had for him and opened his door, heading downstairs to where his mother was waiting to apparate to the train station.

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"Well," Harry said to himself in the mirror "Just gotta get it over with I guess." He was not looking forward to his eighth year, he hadn't even wanted to do it, but Hermione insisted it was important and might help him break out of the weird shell he'd been in since the war ended. He'd broken it off entirely with Ginny, which ended up being for the best. She said if he hadn't she would've, there was too much pain from the war for them to ever feel like they could be a normal couple. Harry agreed, but he didn't think any relationship he was a part of could be normal anyway, so...

He'd also moved into Grimmauld Place full-time and had only really seen Ron and Hermione since all the funerals right after the war. It just hurt too much, and no matter how many times Hermione said it wasn't his fault, there was still a layer of thick guilt that hung there. The only times he left the house was to go to the local shops when he ran out of charcoal for his sketches. Most of them were based on memories from the war, and nightmares he'd had. Just to get everything off his chest. He also baked a lot, it was the only thing the Dursley's had made him do that he hadn't resented.

He looked around and stuffed a couple pairs of socks and a sketchbook he'd missed when packing into his trunk, and then closed it. Picking it up he moved through the house slowly towards the front door, hoping that maybe if he went slow enough he wouldn't have to go at all. Even though he knew it was a dumb thing to hope.

"Harry," Hermione's impatient sigh dragged him out of his thoughts and he looked up at her wearily. "Let's go, we can't miss the train."

"Mione, I just really don't want to take the train. Can't we just apparate to Hogsmeade."

"No way mate!" Chimed in Ron, his forced cheerful tone was wearing on Harry's patience already and he clenched his jaw and looked at the ground. "It's our last year, and we've always taken the train."

"Because we legally couldn't apparate." Harry muttered, and then more loudly complained, "I just cannot deal with all the people who are gonna be staring at me today!"

Hermione smiled softly at Harry and rubbed his arm soothingly, "I know, Harry. What if you used the cloak?"

Harry genuinely smiled at her "You're a genius, Mione." He put his trunk on the floor in front of him and pulled the cloak from it. He stuffed it in his pocket and closed the trunk again. He stood up, "Alright, let's go to the station!" And they left for King's Cross, with everybody in slightly better moods.