Chapter 1

                                        

                                              
Orphans of War
                              
Story suggestion from PeridotPrimRose
                              


                              
Draco stared as the train started to fill with passengers. Why, after eight years, did they still make everyone come by the slow-ass train? He was completely licensed and able to Apparate to Hogwarts, or rather Hogsmeade.
                              
"Draco, sweetie? Take care of yourself. Remember, we love you no matter what," his mother said sweetly, and he nodded, unable to talk without full control of his voice. Being emotional never got him anywhere.
                              
"Be careful, son. I can feel the stares... most disagreed with the verdict, and I don't want you to be hurt. If I could prevent this, I would have," his father said.
                              
Draco nodded. The Wizengamot ordered him to complete his education under the headmistress's guardianship or face a stiff sentence. His parents were given two years of limited house arrest. They had gotten permission to come today. He was glad, but didn't want to leave them. His parents had protected him from the worst that war had to offer. But they were so proud that he didn't kill Dumbledore, after everything, even if it had almost condemned them.
                              
His father had even hugged him when he let the Chosen One escape from their house. He was their salvation. His father had explained that only Potter could free them from Voldemort's hold. They wouldn't survive if Voldemort remained in power as people would eventually find out the truth about him. The Muggleborn Commission would have kept digging. A secret that burned him so much.
                              
The train whistle blew. He didn't want to have beg for a place to sit.
                              
"I will write tomorrow and tell you what happened, Father. Mother, I love you. I love you both."
                              
His mother's eyes filled with tears, and she flung her arms around his neck. "I love you, too, my angel. I wish I could keep you home."
                              
"You are still a Malfoy, Draco. Don't forget that. Be smart. Make me proud, son."
                              
Draco nodded and gave a final farewell before he boarded the train and found an empty compartment. He didn't know if any of his friends were coming back, though most heard at his trial that he had helped Potter. Greg, Pansy and Theo's parents were Death Eaters and were convicted of it. Blaise's mother had never joined, but he wasn't exactly pro-Potter either. Draco knew how alone he really was, now.
                              
Riding the line between good and evil had landed him in a tight spot. Everyone was going to hate him, and he had no idea how he would survive this year. He stared out the window, trying in vain to think of a scenario where he wasn't hexed, cursed and beat all to hell by everyone. His grand plan was to sleep with locking wards on his curtains and spend all day and night in the library under the watchful eyes of Madam Pince.
                              
Minutes ticked closer to eleven. Late arrivals kept pouring onto the train. With the eighth years coming back, the train was as packed as ever. Thankfully, as soon as people saw that he was in there, they went looking for another compartment. There were only a few more minutes when he saw Potter and the Weasleys arrive and quickly board the train after a quick goodbye to their mum.
                              
Granger and Weasley were holding hands, and the Weaselette was with Thomas. Guess she left Potter, who didn't seem perturbed by it. But they had already disappeared into the train closer to the front.
                              
Draco sighed. He had no idea how to act around Potter anymore. Not only did the Chosen save his sorry-ass out of the fire, but he also rescued him from a life-time in Azkaban and even sent him back his wand with a thank you note. He couldn't be a dick to him anymore, and there wasn't a reason to, not that there ever was a real reason.