complimentary colours • drarry •

2: draco

Wednesday 2nd September 1998

It took a few gasping breaths for Draco to remember that he was at Hogwarts, that he was safe and Voldemort was long since dead. He blinked hard, shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the images his mind had conjured up. The phantom pain of his nightmare had been a little too close to a memory. This had become familiar to him now, waking up shaking and filled with dread. He mostly dreamt of the Manor. Of those months spent with the Dark Lord casting a shadow over his childhood home. A place where he had never been afraid before, but was now tainted with the memory of blood, torture and control.

During his time living with Voldemort at the manor, Draco had learned to become invisible. The less the dark lord saw him, the less likely he was to take his anger out on him. And with Potter constantly evading his capture, the Dark Lord was always angry. On more than one occasion, Draco had been on the receiving end of that anger, or more specifically, the Cruciatus curse.

He had hoped that being away from the Manor might help but it seemed The Dark Lord's presence was intent on following him.

There was a sliver of sunlight peeking through a gap in his bed curtains. At least he'd slept till morning. He wouldn't have to lie awake for hours replaying the nightmare over and over till it drove him crazy. He removed the silencing charm he'd put up the night before just in case. It was just as well he had. It was bad enough having to share a room with The Saviour of the Wizarding World, he didn't need the embarrassment of Potter hearing him whimpering in his sleep.

He wouldn't have chosen to come back to Hogwarts at all if it weren't for his fear of being unemployed. He could always live off his family's money for the rest of his life, there was plenty of it. But that sounded mind-numbingly dull, sitting around the Manor all day with nothing to do. Like his mother was probably doing right now... She'd been telling him that returning to Hogwarts would be best for him ever since it was announced that students would be welcomed back to complete their NEWTs. He had argued at first. Why should he go back to a place where everyone hated him? But in the end, he couldn't deny she was right. It was going be difficult enough getting a job with his reputation, there was no point making things harder for himself by not finishing his education.

That didn't stop him from feeling bitter. It felt like his mother was sending him away, like she couldn't stand to look at him anymore. He didn't know if it was something he had done or if it was simply Lucius' absents that had distanced them, but he had made it clear to her that he had noticed.

"Mother!" he called impatiently from the entrance hall of the Manor, trunk in hand and his school uniform on.

A moment later she came walking out of the cloak room, clearly in no rush.

"Sorry," she said. "I couldn't find my coat."

"I'm going to be late."

She frowned.

"We've got plenty of time. Are you really in such a hurry to leave?" she asked, reaching out and straightening the collar of his shirt.

"You're the one who wanted me to go back," he said, taking her arm gently. He had just enough time to see the hurt in her eyes before he disaparated, and a second later they were standing on platform 9 3/4 surrounded my wizards and witches.

It had been a bit cruel he will admit. He'd felt slightly guilty, enough to kiss her on the cheek and hug her tightly before stepping onto the train.

He could have said more, could have told her that she wasn't the only one that wanted him gone. That he also just wanted to get out of that fucking house, get away from her. But he wasn't that cruel. Though sometimes he felt it, the words on the tip of his tongue.