Saving Draco

prologue

Draco. 367 days after the Battle of Hogwarts

Even when I open my eyes, all I know is dark, cold, and silence.

     I hated it, I hate myself.

It had been over a year since we left our lives in London, I never thought I'd say it but even I missed Hogwarts. Everyday is the same. I sleep just to revisit dark memories from my past and wake up with the same thoughts in my mind all day.

I can barely eat, barely sleep, and barely live.

Mother and Father are gone everyday, busy trying to gain muggle influence, so that the Malfoy name could infiltrate social elites in the States as well. I couldn't find any point in it, we had more than enough to live lavishly for the rest of our lives.

We were fine at first. After the war we lived peacefully, avoiding prosecution to Azkaban due to Mother and Father's betrayal to the Dark Lord. But not even a day later, remaining Death Eaters came for us and our lives were in danger. So we left.

Even with him gone and thousands of miles separating us and his grave, he never left my mind once and he was the only thing I could see everyday.

"Do as I say Draco, and I will let you and your family live."

"For I am a merciful lord, I will give you a chance to redeem your father's mistakes."

"Kill him Draco, kill Dumbledore."

Every movement, every sudden sound, I'm struck by fear that he was coming back to kill me. My nightmares became worse as days went on that Mother began sleeping on a chair next to my bed, making sure I slept comfortably.

I felt pathetic.

When I would be fortunate enough to keep the Dark Lord out of my mind, all it would be filled with were regrets that I kept to myself.

I began to regret being so prejudiced, I regretted the way I had treated others. Maybe if I had been better, someone could have loved me.

I craved it.

Despite having parental love and being raised rather spoiled, I had wished for more. Maybe I spent all those years bullying Potter because I envied what he had. He grew up poor and an orphan, but he had friends and the people who spoke of his name admired him. I hated him because even though I had more, I also had less.

But I could never admit that to myself.

Having no one to trust, I had started to write everything down towards the end of Year 5. I would hide the journal under my mattress when I slept and kept it hidden inside my clothes when I woke. I had it to keep it on me at all times.

What would the world say if they knew Draco Malfoy kept a diary? I felt pathetic, once again.

Today felt quieter than usual, or maybe I had just learned to drown out the never ending chatter of people, buildings, and cars.

The curtains were drawn to keep the sun out even though it was still dawn. It would often give me migraines, reminding me too much of how joyful and bright life used to be.

Despite this, I got ready and left the building. And I just kept walking and walking, not caring if it led me off a cliff.

Hours later I found myself standing over the edge of a bridge, I don't quite remember how I got here. I must've pushed through hundreds of people, crossed streets when you weren't supposed to, causing countless honks and angry shouts.