Chapter Text
It was true what people said. Hogwarts would never be the same.
He didn’t want to believe them, but he had been staring at the newly remodeled castle from his seat on the train for the last five minutes, and he finally was forced to accept that it was true. Suddenly, all his memories of the aftermath of the war flooded through his mind.
---The trials had dragged on for months. More and more people were brought in to give testimonies, and Draco Malfoy was not excluded in all of this. Since he’d willingly given himself up to the Ministry, his trail was among the first. He spent several grueling hours in the Trial Chamber listening to people talk for him and at him. They eventually brought their golden boy, Potter, in to testify in Draco’s favor for reasons he didn’t care to know, and even his testimony wasn’t enough to clear Draco of the charges laid against him. It was only when he was forced to speak up for himself that any progress was made. Telling his story to prove he didn’t deserve Azkaban only worsened the case of his father. The veritaserum was beyond brutal, and by the time he was finished, he’d let loose enough information to keep his father and many others in prison for several lifetimes. He had successfully outcasted himself from two wizarding communities, which effectively alienated him in society.
After days of deliberation, the Ministry officials acquitted of all charges that were in place. The last thing he remembered about his trial was making eye contact with Potter and nodding his head in a silent “thank you” to the boy. He didn’t expect anything in return, but he felt like he needed to that much because the had just helped save Draco from a life in Azkaban. However, Harry nodded back at him, taking Draco off guard. The nod wasn’t a “you’re welcome” nod. It was more of a “No, thank you” nod, and Draco didn’t really understand that. Maybe he had read it wrong, but because he had studied Potter and his actions for several years now, he knew the other boy’s face like he knew his own reflection. How else would he have been able to identify him in the manor when Voldemort had asked? There was no way he had mistaken it…. But why would Potter be thanking him after everything that happened?
He shrugged away the thought as his mother pulled him out of the chamber and disapparated home with him in tow.
Summer came and went, and soon it was time to pack for school. His mother always helped him with the honours because she apparently thought him incapable of doing so. He sighed deeply as she raided his wardrobes and chests. He found her actions more annoying than anything, but he was happy to have her around. His father would be spending the rest of his days in Azkaban for his actions during the war, and this hurt Draco very deeply. For so long he strived to gain the approval of his father, and without the man’s presence, he’d been forced to learn to live a new way. Well, he was still trying to figure that out anyway. ---
He studied the castle as it was becoming clearer and clearer the closer they came to it. It seemed smaller in a way, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. The structure was rebuilt to look exactly as it did before. He wondered if everything about the interior would be the same as well. Of course, the atmosphere would be different with McGonagall as the Headmistress, and the variety of new teachers, but he hoped it still felt like home when he arrived. He wondered about the annoying little quirks in the school and if some of them would still be there. Would the staircases still change? Would the secret passages exist? .. the Chamber of Secrets?... Peeves? What about the room of requirement? Would it have survived like Draco?
The train came to a stop, shaking him out of his thoughts. Draco gathered his belongings and made his way through the slim aisle to the exit, ignoring the sneers and looks of bewilderment people gave him through the windows as he passed them. Outside the train, the thestrals waited to drive them up to the opulent castle. It was a trip he had taken many times in his life, but it was different now. He could no longer hold his head high with pride as he had done so often before. There would be no joking around with friends or picking on some poor first year. He knew that he was taking a great risk in coming back to Hogwarts for his eighth year, but there was simply no other path for him to take since he needed to rebuild his status in society. Since he was focused on other things during his 7th year in school, he had neglected his studies, and now this was his only option. He also didn’t really know what else he could do to occupy his time. There was no way that he was going to follow his father’s footsteps at the Ministry, and now he was left to figure out things on his own. He suddenly felt like he knew what it was like to be average. The thought sent a shiver up his spine and sent a foul taste through his mouth.
Suddenly, Draco was pulled from his thoughts when the thestral pulled up to the gates. He waited until all the other students found their belongings and headed for the castle before he got up from his seat. He got down from the carriage, and walked slowly over to the few remaining, unclaimed trunks to find his and then make his way to the dungeons…. or would that still be where he will stayed? He wondered then how 8th-year students would spend their time at Hogwarts? Would they still be in their respective houses? Would they remain in their common rooms? There were an uncomfortable amount of questions and thoughts that entered his brain just then that he didn’t notice the one other student who had waited until the crowd cleared to gather their things.
The first thing that caught Draco’s attention was the reflection of light on his hand. He looked up and noticed the setting sun was reflecting off of a pair of glasses. He dropped the luggage he was picking up, causing a pair of absurdly green eyes to perk up and look his direction.
Draco’s heart stopped. Seeing Potter again after everything that had gone down between them in the past was like having a boulder placed on his chest. He exhaled after a moment, not realizing he had forgotten to breathe. He hastily looked away and started gathering his things again.
“You know, if you didn’t pack the entire manor, you wouldn’t have as much trouble carrying your stuff.” The comment wasn’t said in malice, but it wasn’t exactly friendly either.
He didn’t dignify Potter with a response. Instead, he scoffed and started gathering everything he’d dropped. How was he supposed to face Potter again after everything?… He turned his body to avoid the boy’s gaze, not knowing how to behave in this situation.
Potter picked up his one bag and handed his trunk off to Filtch who had been furiously working to get all the students’ trunks to their proper places in the castle.
Draco did the same, but he still had several other pieces of luggage to carry in himself since Filtch refused to handle any “extra and unnecessary” luggage, and he didn’t feel like arguing with the man. He didn’t take into account that he would have the help of this mother once he got on the train, but not when he got off. He had managed to get his belongings through the front doors on his own, but there was no way he could manage the stairs with that amount of stuff. There were simply too many things to carry, and he was going to have to make a second trip. He sat down half of his things and began walking toward the doors. He would be late for dinner, but that didn’t bother him because he’d faced enough sneering already on the train.
Potter must not have been far behind him because the doors flew open once more, and their eyes met again. This time, the green eyes met his through a mass of dark, shaggy, wind-blown hair.
Five words was all it took for the memories to come flooding back. It was the same five words that started all of this nonsense and hearing those words flowing smoothly from thin lips was all it took for him to feel like he was 11 years old again attending Hogwarts for the first time. Now he was left standing in the foyer unable to move while the speaker of the dreaded words bounced jauntily up the grand staircase. Draco hadn’t the slightest clue as to if Potter knew what he was doing when he spoke at that moment, if he had meant for Draco to have the reaction he did, yet there he was paralyzed with emotions he thought had long passed. Even now, after all these years, he still hoped for Potter’s approval and friendship. Who was he kidding? There was no way that Potter would ever allow it. He’d always made himself abundantly clear where they stood with each other. He shrugged the feelings away realizing that he was causing a bit of a hold-up in the foyer. Several other students were trying to get through to the great hall but stopped to gawk at him as he stood there staring at what appeared to be nothing. “Great…. Now, apparently, I’m evil and crazy,” he thought to himself. He bent down to grab his luggage and noticed then that it had all shrunken in size dramatically. He cursed Potter under his breath at that moment. Even when he was trying to be helpful, he couldn’t keep himself for making Draco’s life miserable. There was no way he could get all his clothes fitting properly again, no matter how good he was at transfiguration. Custom made, muggle clothing had become one of his new favourite things, and he’d gotten a whole new wardrobe full of it. He hated shrinking charms… and now he hated Potter more for thinking that he wasn’t capable of casting one himself.
Potter reappeared moments later with the Weasel, and Draco just ignored them. The words, “I can help you there” still replaying themselves over and over in his mind as both his own 11-year old voice and Potter ’s 18- year old voice. It would seem they’d finally come full circle. But would they keep going round-and-round, or would they leave the circle to find a new path?
Draco didn’t know if he was ready to find out if a new path was even an option or not, so he just left things like they were.
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The dungeons were seemingly unaffected by the battle, and Draco found that rather comforting. The looks, smells, and the atmosphere felt like home, and this was the first time he’d been able to relax since leaving the manor. He knew he should go to dinner, but he wasn’t ready to face it all just yet. Instead, he elected to sit by the fireplace in the common room where he laid his head down to rest for a second but was awakened sometime later as the other Slytherins made their way back to their dorms after dinner.
Draco knew he wouldn’t have much company this year at Hogwarts seeing as most of his friends either finished their time there, elected to not re-do their 7th year, or were claimed by the war, so the fact that the students entering the common room either ignored him entirely or glared at him didn’t shock him at all.
A group of first years, who likely didn’t know who he was or recognize him, disturbed his peace by sitting next to him on the sofas, forcing him to get up and make his way to his bed. When he got there, he found the still-shrunken luggage waiting there where he had abandoned it earlier. He began attempting to restore his things back to their normal sizes and hoped his clothes would still fit properly when he wore them next. Although he didn’t know how muggle clothing would react to magic. He cursed Potter again internally.
By the time he was finished, other students were entering the dorm. He wasn’t in the mood to be bothered, so he skipped his bedtime routine, closed the curtains around him, and he fell asleep almost immediately after laying his head on his pillow. He didn’t even bother pulling back the duvet. His mother would have scolded him for not at least washing his face before bed, but that made being at Hogwarts all the more comfortable to Draco.