Chapter Text
"I can't tell you. You don't - you can't - you can't explain man what's going on in your brain.
You can't tell somebody how - wha-what's happening, what's going on in your- I can't."
-The Anchor, Bastille
Waves crashed against the iron belly of the boat. Draco tried to recognize a pattern in them, but each time he’d almost found one, the waves changed their path. It made him wonder if they were heading somewhere at all. Maybe the boat was just sailing in circles now, alone on an ocean trying to drive him mad. A pointless mission, really. Draco had gone mad weeks ago. Azkaban could do that to a teenager.
“Mr. Malfoy.” The rusty iron door of the small, nauseating transport cell got pulled open, revealing a scrubby looking guard. Outside, the waves lessened considerably, though the floor still rocked a bit. “Follow me to the deck, please.”
The guard turned on his heels, leaving Draco to get up by himself. It was a tricky task. The cold metal bench under his arse still wobbled as he begged his legs to carry him. He could almost count his own ribs simply by looking down, but he didn’t. He didn’t ask for help either, when his protesting joints gave way and he fell to the ground. The helmsman had looked like he might kick him if he did so much as opened his mouth.
Slowly, he climbed to his feet again and stumbled outside. The hallway was small, making it easy to seek support from the walls as he made his way onto the deck. The sun was hidden by clouds, but the light was still blinding. He had spent so many nights and days inside, it was as if his eyes didn’t believe there were no walls around him anymore. Anything further than ten feet was blurry. The deck was small though, and the rail surrounding it was close by. Draco held onto it for dear life as the boat made its way into the small, improvised prisoners harbour. He nearly fell again when the boat came to an abrupt halt, seemingly stopped by magic. The helmsman inside the little cabin out front looked back at him and laughed.
Silly little Death Eater.
As quickly as he could manage, he climbed onto the dock. He fell again when his vestibular wouldn’t get used to the lack of waves fast enough. Meanwhile the guard was already several yards ahead of him, walking faster with every step it seemed. Trying to remember his past grace, Draco got back on his feet. Then he focussed his eyes on the blurry shape of the guard, and began to walk.
It was strange, being on the mainland again. He’d spent two long months in Azkaban, only leaving through the heavily guarded floo network one time to testify at his own trial. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t use the same floo to get off the hellish island now, but he wasn’t going to ask. There were more important things to worry about. Like catching up with the guard, and taking a closer look at his parole agreement so he would never have to return to that freezing hell ever again.
“A bit more effort would be appreciated next time.” The guard grumbled when Draco finally reached the door of the concrete building. The place looked grim and unwelcoming, which fitted Draco’s mood perfectly. He was leaving hell, only to walk straight into the arms of a grieving community that wanted his head on a stick. Or at least some of them did. Others would take great pleasure in turning his life into a hell even the Dementors couldn’t match.
“My apologies, sir.” He said, his voice shaking. He vividly remembered the hours of interrogating back in Azkaban, and the yelling of abuse from other prisoners. Dementors took away happiness, but they left anger well alone. Those two things had taught him that any kind of pride would be broken with an iron fist. To avoid trouble and pain, it was best to keep his head down, apologise, and move on.
The guard seemed puzzled by his words for a moment, but then he shrugged and ignored them. “You didn’t have a wand coming in, so that won’t be returned. Most possessions you had when you were brought in here were confiscated by the Aurors, so that just leaves,” The guard pulled a black garment out from underneath his desk. “This.”
Draco couldn’t speak. His throat was squeezed shut as waves of ice cold panic crashed into him. He staggered back until the back of his head collided with the wall behind him, making a loud thud resonate through the building.
Those were his Hogwarts robes. His battle robes. One of the sleeves was still scorned from the fiendfyre Potter had saved him from. The other had been soaked in blood, but they must have washed that off.
“You don’t want it?” The guard raised an eyebrow, and for the first time Draco could spot some compassion on his face. He shook his head, dizziness almost overtaking him as he did so. “Very well then. I’ll have it disposed of. There’s only one more thing, which we found in one of the pockets.”
The guard slid a photograph over the desk. Skittish, like a wounded animal visiting a water well, Draco approached the desk. There, on the rough, dark wood, he could see his own face smile back at him. The photo had been taken about a year before he’d first gone off to Hogwarts. He was in the lavish gardens of the Manor, with his arm slung around Pansy. She was wearing a hideous yellow floppy dress, but despite that she laughed into the camera. Draco was too. They were childlike, innocent smiles, though his own grey eyes held more worry in them than they should. Courtesy of his father’s wonderful introduction into the world of politics and manipulation, which had started a year before. Still, he’d been happy then.
Unburdened.
Free.
He longed to feel that way again.
“Keep. I-, I’d like to keep that.” His cheeks heated as the guard gave him an odd look. His embarrassment didn’t stop him from snatching the picture off the desk and clutching it to his chest, though. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job. Now if you’ll fill these out for me…” The guard gave him a stack of papers to sign, which Draco did. He had to re-try his signature several times before he got it right. His hands were cold and shaky, despite it being a hot July day. It would probably take weeks for the cold of the prison to leave his bones.
“That will be all. You’re free to go now.” The guard announced when he finished the last form. He gestured to the door opening. Draco walked through it before he realized he had nowhere to go. His mother was still in hospital. She’d collapsed after being cleared of all charges, and was still recovering. The manor had been confiscated, though he wouldn’t want to come back there even if his life depended on it. And his father…
Was never going to leave Azkaban. Not alive, at least.
And now Draco had nowhere to go. And no family to turn to except for an aunt he’d never met.
He was about to start panicking when two sets of feet came round the side of the concrete bunker. One pair of heels, the other flats. A soft jingle accompanied each step, which he found out came from a set of long golden earrings. Earrings attached to a woman whose mere presence in that moment was enough to bring him to tears. “Pansy.”
“Draco.” His oldest friend in the whole wide world didn’t slow down as she came closer. Instead she simply collided with him. Then she stopped him from falling to the ground again with a hug so strong it almost broke his ribs. Though granted, not much was needed for that these days. “You look like death.”
“I feel dead.” But that was a lie. Draco felt anything but dead as his own arms came up around the Indonesian girl. Just like him she’s lost a lot of weight since the start of the war, making their hug more a collision of bones. But it was still indescribably amazing to have someone warm and loving in his arms for the first time in ages. It felt so good, he couldn’t even bring himself to care when heavy sobs started to rip through him, leaving a shaking boy in their wake.
“I missed you.” Pansy whispered. She rubbed her nose against his chest as she tightened the hug.
I missed you too , Draco wanted to say. But all that came out was just another sob.
“Oh you guys are such pathetic losers.” Millicent, the owner of the flats, sniffled and stepped closer. Only when she wrapped her arms around them, did their embrace turn into a proper hug. At least she wasn’t a walking sack of bones. “I hate you both.”
“You love us.” Pansy’s voice was muffled against the filthy grey prison garb Draco wore. It really proved how much she cared for him. Normally Pansy wouldn’t touch filthy clothing with a ten foot pole. “We all know you love us, don’t lie Mills.”
“Alright, fine. I love you two.” Millicent rubbed his spine and Draco winced. He didn’t know what, but something hurt back there. His wince earned him two concerned looks, but he shook his head. Not now. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. The only thing he was ready for, was a bath and a warm bed and to not be left alone for at least a week. He really didn’t want to be alone.
“Are you good enough to apparate?” Millicent left their hug, but kept one hand resting on his arm. “I warned my parents, we can get home in one go.”
At the mention of home, Draco opened his mouth. “I don’t-”
“You’re coming with me, Draco. Me and Pansy. Like I said, my mum and dad already know and agreed. My sisters all moved out in the last three years, so we have enough rooms to spare.” Draco opened his mouth again. He should at least try to refuse Millicent’s charity, even though he had nowhere else to go. “And you’re not protesting, because I won’t let you. You’re my friend, and this is what friends do for each other.”
“She means it, Draco.” Pansy pulled back a little to look him in the eye. Her face was tear stained, but determined all the same. “She took me in as well, when I couldn’t stand to be around my mother anymore. Your bed has been ready for weeks.”
“What happened with you and your mother?”
“I’ll explain later.” Pansy ended the hug, but kept an arm around his waist to steady him. Draco had never been more grateful for her presence. “Now, can you come with us? Side-along?”
“I think so.” He took a deep breath of fresh air. Some of his ribs protested that decision with passion, but it felt like his brain was too overwhelmed to process any more input. “I haven’t exactly been in this situation before. I don’t-, I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to know Draco. Not right now. Now you just have to come with us and get better. And after that it’s time to learn a thing or two, but right now…” Millicent blinked to get the tears out of her eyes. “Right now all you have to do is hold my hand.”
Millie shot him a sympathetic smile and Draco winced, because he didn’t want sympathy from his friends. He didn’t want to need it, because he didn’t want to be a fuck-up or a burden on the first place. Accepting the fact that wanting things wasn’t going to make his bad decisions go away was a hard pill to swallow. But maybe he could wait for someone to hand him some water before he tried. After all, he was no longer alone now. For the first time in two years, he was no longer alone. He could be open and upfront about everything and he didn’t have to lock everything away. That prospect made things just a smidge easier to bear.
He smiled at his two friends. “Alright. I’ll hold your hand.”
“Rise and shine, Draco! The sun is out, the weather is nice and you still have four hours left to live!” Millicent greeted him loudly. Draco ignored her, and remained where he was; lying perfectly still in bed. He didn’t want to get up. Ever. And though he knew pretending to be dead had never worked on Millicent before, it was worth a shot.
“Oh come on you big fat baby, you can dread it all you like, but unless you want to violate your parole agreement, you have to go back to Hogwarts.” Milly stood up from the edge of his bed and got ready to pull the covers away. A tiny smirk tugged on Draco’s lips. He knew it would come to this, which was exactly why he hadn’t bothered with pyjamas the night before. And indeed, soon enough cold air came into contact with his bare arse as Milly screeched and ran out of the room.
It served her right for waking him up so cheerfully. Especially today.
Saying that he dreaded returning to Hogwarts more than he’d dreaded his war trial was a lie. However, it made a pretty damn great second. Mostly because it would just be him and Pansy returning for their so called eighth year. Millicent was going to help in her mother’s muggle bakery together with Greg. She didn’t want to return to a place that had wrongly branded her as an evil pureblood bully from day one, just because she was a Slytherin.
Greg just didn’t want to be reminded of Vince all the time. He still couldn’t stop crying when someone mentioned him. Blaise had fucked off to Merlin knew where after testifying on Draco’s trial, and never returned any of their owls anymore. Theo was still in St. Mungo’s after his last suicide attempt. He’d said he might return for his NEWT’s when the hospital deemed him fit enough to leave, but Draco hoped he’d steer clear of the school. It would be much better for his friend if he got a fresh start somewhere new, far away from the place that had triggered his suicide attempts in the first place.
Draco wanted more than anything to stay as far away from Hogwarts as he could as well. His parole agreement left him no choice though; Finish eighth year, don’t leave Britain for five years, don’t do anything illegal, and ditch your prejudiced and racist beliefs. If he failed any of those things, there was a ten year ticket to Azkaban waiting for him. And though he might dread Hogwarts, Azkaban was infinitely worse.
“Draco, did you just flash Millicent?” Draco noticed the bounce of her ponytail before he saw the rest of his visitor. Pansy’s new and longer hairstyle rather suited her. “She lets you live in her house, with her family, eating her food and using her old bedroom for two months, and as a thank you you flash her?”
“I don’t know what you mean by flashing.” Draco rolled over and caught the boxers Pansy threw at his head with a natural grace. The smirk on his face was rather less natural, but looking as scared on the outside as he felt on the inside wouldn’t help him with anything. “But if it’s a comment on me sleeping naked, that wasn’t a thank you. I was just rather hot last night.”
“You’re not. Never have been, never will be. Temperature wise or other” Pansy tossed a pair of socks and a shirt at his head. It was blue, muggle and read Keep calm and carry on . Draco pulled it over his head without pausing for a second. Maybe his presence at platform 9¾ would offend people less if he looked muggle.
That was his goal now; Not offending anyone. Not getting anyone’s attention. Not being noticed at all. Even though he now stayed with Millicent, who had mixed magical-muggle parents and lived in a muggle suburb of London, owls could still reach him. Pansy had figured out a way to dismantle howlers pretty quickly, but the message in them was still clear; show your face and we’ll give you a taste of your own medicine. Looking muggle was the least of his problems.
“Rude.” Draco rolled out of bed and put the rest of his clothing on. He struggled a bit with trying his shoelaces, as he wasn’t used to doing them without magic. He did have a wand now, an old one from his mother, but most days he hadn’t managed to get out of bed, let alone get dressed. The label for his mental state was unknown to him, but it was far from ‘perfectly healthy’.
When he straightened himself and looked at Pansy she seemed almost bored, leaning against the doorframe in her wide jeans and crop top nicked from Millicent’s closet. But Draco knew her better than that. “How did you sleep?”
“Not. Or barely. Just drifted a bit with my eyes closed.” She shrugged, as though insomnia wasn’t a constant drain on both of them. “But Millicent slept like a baby, and that’s what matters.”
Pansy pushed herself off the doorframe and came towards him, hands deep in the pockets of her mom jeans. Draco took a deep breath as a flare of guilt ripped through his chest. He was the reason why Pansy couldn’t just stay here with her girlfriend. Why she couldn’t forget about the war and start a new chapter of her life.
“You know you don’t-”
“Shut it, I’m going to.” Draco was cut off, as expected. Pansy threw her arms around him and held him close. “I know you’re scared, and I know you’d rather be anywhere but on that train, but I’ll be damned if you’re not on it. And I’ll be damned if I’m not on it with you. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Draco.”
“Bloody pest.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her skinny waist. She was too thin, but then so was he. Azkaban, war, or getting kicked out for being a lesbian could do that to a person. “But I’ll be on that train. And so will you, as you keep on telling me. Though I still think you’re an idiot for coming with me.”
“And I still think you’re an idiot for thinking I’d ever leave you out of my sight. We both know how that ended last time.” Pansy broke the hug, and gave him a sharp look. Draco refused to meet it. ‘Last time’ he’d left for the manor during Christmas without telling Pansy. When he finally came back, two weeks after the end of the break, he’d been within an inch of his life. He still wasn’t sure what had happened during those weeks, but he tried not to think about it too much. The gaps in his memory probably weren’t missing moments of happy carol singing.
“Thank you.” Draco pulled Pansy right back into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“Yes yes yes. Thank you, I love you, I wouldn’t know what to do without you, you’re the most amazing person in the known universe, blah blah blah. I get the gist, dickhead.” Pansy wrestled herself out of the hug again and shoved him in the ribs. “Sucky sentimental Slytherin.”
“Bony bitchy bint.” Draco shoved her back, glad to forget the dreaded train ride for a moment.
Pansy rolled her eyes at him and wrapped an arm around his waist. She was too small to reach his shoulders, something Draco teased her with at every opportunity he got. “Come on, you big Drama Queen. Let’s at least get you some breakfast before we start the theater. I refuse to deal with you when you’re hungry and depressed.”
“Fine.” It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes now. “Lead the way, princess.”
“How long have you been staying here?” Draco asked after acclimatizing to the bath. He’d wanted to crawl in bed immediately after arriving at the guest home, but Milly’s mom had insisted they’d treat his injuries first. He wasn’t sure what to make of Mrs. Bulstrode, but he didn’t have to yet. As she had told him herself, their main priority now was getting him clean, healed and well-rested. Everything else would come later.
“Since the twenty fifth of May.” Pansy replied, somewhat reluctantly. She sat kneeled next to the small bath, enabling her to wash his hair without getting herself wet. He felt ridiculous and weak, sitting there completely starkers as Pansy poured hot water over his head. But he also knew that he couldn’t do it himself. His stamina was completely gone.
“Why?” He noticed Pansy was avoiding his gaze, and he feared the reason behind it. They’d been in their nappies together, had been friends for over a decade, and Draco trusted her so much he didn’t even feel vulnerable as she helped him get clean, he only felt a bit stupid. What could possibly be so bad that she didn’t want to tell him about it?
“I had a fight with my mother.” Pansy picked up a comb and started working on his tangled hair. She paid close attention to her own movements, using the task as a way to avoid his eyes. “She didn’t want to talk about what had happened. During the war, the battle or anything. She just kept nagging on about the latest article for Witch Weekly she was writing, as if nothing had changed. And after living with that for a few weeks I just sort of… snapped.”
Draco kept quiet, hoping the silence would encourage Pansy to keep talking. And eventually, it did. “I was quite nasty, but she was way worse in her response. I told her you make me feel more loved than she does. She told me you ruined her family and me from day one. Said I was a huge disappointment, and that she didn’t recognize her daughter in me. When she accused me of sleeping with you, or the enemy as she said it… I might have told her I fancy women over men. And then I ran off to find Millicent. Took me two days to get to her, and I was a total mess once I did. It wasn’t pretty.”
Draco blinked, struggling to let that information sink in. He felt quite awful for causing a rift between Pansy and her mother, but he was distracted from that pain by Pansy’s other confession. She fancied women. Which was… Not unheard off in the magical community, but usually associated with old ugly wood witches living in the Black Forest. Not eighteen year olds, not Slytherin’s and definitely not Draco’s pureblood best friend. “Do you… are you and Millie together?”
“Yes.” Pansy nodded, still avoiding his gaze.
Draco bit his bottom lip. “Are you… happy? Together?”
“Very much.” Pansy finally let go of his hair, and sat back. Draco carefully shifted so he could face her. She looked torn between fear and love. Love for Millie, fear for him. For what he’d say. “What do you-, Do you mind?”
“No.” He didn’t have to think about his answer. He was too loyal to his friends to reject them over something like this. Especially Pansy. They had been through too much shit for that. “Not if you’re happy. You deserve to be happy, Pans.”
“So do you.” Pansy nearly launched herself at him, pulling him into a hug even though that got her clothes and the bathroom floor completely soaked. “Fuck, Draco, so do you. So do both of us.” She released him from the hug but kept his hands in her own. “I want to make sure you’ll be happy again. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Seeing you hurt.”
“It’s not your job to make sure I’m happy, Pans.” For the first time in months, a genuine smile crept onto his face. He could not have wished for a better best friend, and he definitely didn’t deserve her love after everything he’d put her through, but damn was he grateful to have her.
“I know.” Pansy sighed deeply, and some of the intensity of the moment leaked away. It left no emptiness though, only determination. “But it is my ambition.”
“Well then,” Draco squeezed Pansy’s hands. For a couple of blissful minutes he forgot how sore his body was, how deep the trauma had sunk into his brain and what a huge amount of challenges and struggles were still waiting for him. “I’d better prepare myself to be happy again then. It can’t take long if you put your mind to it.”
Draco had always thought that wizards or witches who married muggles were either secret squibs or crazy. However, he had to change his opinion when he first met Millicent’s parents. The only crazy Mr. Bulstrode was, was crazy in love with his wife. A wife who owned and ran a bakery in the outskirts of London, and who tried to break the table with the weight of her baked goods every day.
That morning was no different. In fact Mrs Bulstrode had outdone herself so much, Draco would have sworn the hardwood table actually bent a little in the middle. Which of course only made him feel worse about his lack of appetite.
“Just one croissant, Draco. They’re easy to digest.” Millicent dumped a croissant on his plate and glared at him until he took a bite. His stomach rolled in protest, but he ignored it. If he focussed hard enough, he usually managed to hold it down.
“I don’t remember heading off to my last year at Hogwarts.” Mr. Bulstrode joked to lighten the mood.
“That’s because you never went, dad.” Millicent rolled her eyes. “Something Draco isn’t at liberty to do, so I really don’t think bringing it up will help an awful lot.”
“Neither will forgetting the salt while making bread, yet you still did that yesterday.” Millicent’s mother chipped in, which earned her an eyeroll. The family of three kept on quarreling as Draco and Pansy ate their breakfast in silence. It helped a lot to listen to them. When the banter came to an end, he’d stomached an entire croissant, one egg and two glasses of juice. It felt like a small victory.
“Are we going to change now or on the train?” Pansy asked as she started cleaning up the table. Draco’s stomach twisted at the prospect of wearing robes again. He hadn’t done that since the battle.
“Train. If we enter through platform nine and ten and look muggle, I might not get cursed on sight.” Draco answered lightly, pretending not to be bothered by the oncoming storm of hatred and hostility. He had led that storm once, as head bully of the school. If there was anyone not allowed to feel bad about being bullied and hated, it was him. He’d brought everything upon himself.
“Draco, we talked about this. We’ll arrive an hour early, you charm your hair brown and no one will recognize you until you’re safely inside the train.” Millicent covered his slightly shaking hand with her own. “Trust me. You’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” Millicent smiled at him. “Now get your arse moving before we miss the train! I want plenty of time to enjoy your face when we get you two into my mom’s car for the first time!”
And with that, Draco pushed his nerves and fear down. He was going to enjoy his last moments with Millie, before heading off to Hogwarts. And there, he was going to apologise, keep his head down and morph into a wallflower. Even his own father had started ignoring him during his last weeks in Azkaban. He was sure he could pull the same stunt with people who hated him more, and cared for him less.