One Day They'll Know Your Name

No more names

Draco glanced at the pile of letters by his bed and grimaced. If what he feared was true he was going to have to get rid of them somehow. It wouldn't do for Lucius Malfoy's only son and heir to be seen as being friends and writing letters with Harry The-Boy-Who-Lived Potter if the Dark Lord was coming back. He hadn't talked much to Harry since the World Cup, and he knew he had to, but he couldn't say what he needed to say over letter. And he would absolutely not bring Harry over to his house where his father was after he had seen his father levitating and torturing muggles for no good reason at all. Draco knew, somewhere, that his father wouldn't hurt Harry without a direct order from the Dark Lord, but the fact that an order from the Dark Lord, even after thirteen years of silence and being dead for all intents and purposes, overrode Draco's friendship of three years hurt. Draco would not allow Harry anywhere near Lucius.

He looked at the letters again and winced. They'd have to be burned. And while for now it would be alright to keep sending letters, he would have to keep burning them until the end of the summer. Luckily his parents didn't care what magic he did, as long as he didn't hurt himself or anyone else. He quickly cast a flame freezing spell on a spot on the floor before placing the letters within the area. With a flick of his wand, he cast the fire spell his mother had taught him for when he needed to destroy something so that not even a little could be saved. "Facti Ignis," he said clearly, flicking his wand in the precise movements she had driven into his head before she even allowed him to cast this spell. While not as dangerous as Fiendfyre, any fire was dangerous, and a spell that made whatever you were casting at become fire, instead of just lighting it on fire, was much more dangerous than the simple fire spell taught at Hogwarts, Incendio.

The whole stack went up in smoke, a bright ball of fire appearing where the letters had been. After a moment Draco stopped feeding magic into the spell, allowing the fire to burn out. Not even ashes were left.

As the summer wore on, Draco found himself spending more time with his father. Even though he knew the older man would follow the Dark Lord without question, even if it meant hurting Draco, he couldn't make himself hate his father, or even dislike him. He was his father first and he had raised him to be the person he was now. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with his father before something dramatic like the Dark Lord returning happened.

September first arrived, and Draco Floo'd onto the platform a few minutes before 11. He quickly found where Harry, Neville, and Hermione were sitting, and a couple minutes later Ron and Ginny hurried in.

Barely a minute later, the train started rolling, and Draco cast a quick locking and privacy spell at the door so they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Draco?" Harry asked. "Everything ok?"

Draco took a deep breath and looked at his best friend. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Swallowing he tried again, and it all came out in a rush. "I'm scared that the Dark Lord is coming back because of what happened at the World Cup, and my dad will be part of it, and I wish that he wasn't, but he is, so I just have to deal with it, but if he's coming back then it's not safe for me to be talking to any of you, and I really, really hate it, but I hate any of you or me or my parents dying even more than I hate not talking to you guys in public. Or maybe even be friends in general, but I still want to be your friend, I really do, but either way I'm going to lose-" His voice broke a little and he had to take several deep breaths to keep the tears in his eyes. The air grew thicker with each silent sob emitting from the poor boy, the group leveling with the gravity of the situation. After what felt like ages, Harry hesitantly laid a hand of Draco's knee in an attempt at comfort. They sat a moment longer before Harry spoke.

"We'll figure it out. We always do. I can't, no, I won't lose you. Not to the war, not to peer pressure, and especially not to fucking Voldemort." His voice was heavy with emotion, but his eyes were bright with certainty. None of his friends doubted that Harry meant every word he said, and would move the earth itself to keep his promise.