When You Turn Your Back [Drarry]

[3] Back to December

2001
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It was December again. With the familiar scents of England drifting by Draco's face, he sat in the cushioned seat with his book on Magical Cures of Viral Diseases clutched in his hands, swaying on with the train towards Wiltshire.

Throughout the hours of his travel to Wiltshire, a thought had been playing his heartbeats like a violin, but it was tough for him to decide. The one week break sanctioned by the Institute of Medicinal Sorcery to him, was meant to be solely dedicated to visiting his mother Narcissa after the yearly exams, but he was yet to reply to a couple letters sent by both Pansy and Hermione requesting to join their Christmas reunion which he had missed last year. Even if he had the night to decide, it could take him more than an hour to travel to the wooden cabin they had booked for the celebration.

A while back, Narcissa had moved out of the Malfoy Manor and into an apartment in the small town of Tidworth, confessing to be facing symptoms of insomnia or otherwise terrible nightmares. The unfamiliar rows of buildings to where she lived must have lent her some sense of security for the little piles of galleons they charged, as she had confirmed complete comfort under the low ceiling and had assured him that the sounds of people waltzing above her room did actually made her feel safe and sleep well.

“I know how to use my wand.” she had written under a post script addressing to his worrying letters continuously knocking at her windows.

Almost two years had passed since the day of farewell ball arranged by Hogwarts for the ones who had bravely fought in the Second Wizarding War that had almost rendered him hidden in the dorms. But there were little secrets that Harry had sealed his lips upon, just to let them out on that day, like how he could never kill Dumbledore even when he had the chance and power or when he hadn't let Harry's identity out on a special opportunity that could have gotten him killed, and even when his mother had declared him dead in the Forbidden Forest despite of sensing his breath while she was stood in front of the Dark Lord.

He had merely laughed at the first two examples, for he knew perfectly well what had been going through his mind at those times. They had been just cowardly silences from his side, mixed with a tinge of guilt of taking birth on the wrong side even if he never had a choice on it. Back in the Malfoy Manor, if something had fuelled his discretion were those green eyes that was filled with certainty of getting recognised and the fear of unknown. Though what his mother did had baffled him into silence after Harry's revelation, but when he had tried to confront her about it she had skillfully changed the topic to her nightmares about Him coming back.

However, he hadn't gotten much time to miss them too much in those years that were filled with piles of assignments, tests, practicals, and a few nights of filling up blanks left by a millimetre of magical ink spilt on his arm with people he didn't know and moaning names he didn't care about, the same old night of January playing in his mind in clips, when Harry had touched him for the first time.

The moment he stepped down on the platform, Draco blamed the abnormally low population of the town for the almost empty station. With his trunk shrunk into his pocket, he made his way towards the floo station without an ado.

“Hello, mother.”

A smile spread across his lips as he held the woman in his embrace and inhaled her sweet smell of mint and honey.

“Honey, how was your year?” she asked with a hand on his shoulder.

“Can't say it was my year with all the assignments and tests, but it was usual and fine. How was it here? Are you coping up good?”