Orphans of War

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.

He smiled when the train started moving, though his stomach was turning at the motion, and probably the stress. He stared out the window, hoping that it would go away.

He barely heard the door open and turned to see Longbottom entering. "Oh, hey... Malfoy. You sitting alone?"

Normally, he would have offered a scathing remark, but he didn't have it in him. "Yeah."

"Mind if I join you? It's rather full everywhere."

Draco gave him an incredulous look. "You want to sit with me?"

"Why not?" Longbottom smirked. "I'm not that much of a social pariah anymore. I think you will survive."

Draco's mouth almost popped open. "No, I meant... nevermind." He looked back out the window, self-hatred pumping through him. "Don't you have friends to sit with?"

"Yeah, but I noticed that you were by yourself. I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

His mouth did drop this time. "You... are checking on me?"

"We all went through alota crap, Draco. You hated last year just as much as I did, and you didn't cross lines to go back to Voldemort."

Draco flinched and grabbed his forearm. "Please don't say his name."

Neville frowned. "It's just a name, Draco."

"The name of the person who tortured me every time he was feeling moody," he hissed back and looked outside.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Neville said sincerely, sitting across from him. "Harry said that you didn't give him up during the war."

"I wasn't sure it was him."

"Really? Cause he says otherwise."

"What do you want, Longbottom?" he grunted, wanting so much to be alone.

"It's Neville. I want you to know that you did the right thing, and you have a friend, if you want one."

His eyes went wide, again, as he turned to the dopey Gryffindor. "Me? I've been an utter prat to you for years!"

"Bygones, Draco."

Longbottom kept saying his name... but he was a good guy, and Draco was a marked Death Eater. He turned and threw up his defences. "You should go."

"I think-" he started, but the door opened. The eighth-year Slytherins had finally sought him out.

"Longbottom? Get the hell out of here, fucking idiot," Pansy hissed.

Neville-no-Longbottom, wasn't fazed and stood up as Pansy, Greg, Theo and Blaise filled in. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. What are you going to do?"

Greg shoved the Gryffindor, so he was forced back into his seat. "How about a repeat of last year? I did enjoy hearing you scream, bitch."

He stood back up, almost angry, but Draco said, "Just go, Longbottom."

"I'll be back. See you, Draco."

He felt relieved when Nev-Longbottom left, for his sake. But now, he was very much alone, with four compassionless Slytherins. He couldn't meet their eyes as they sat down. Pansy was across from him.

"What the hell was Longbottom doing in here?" Pansy growled.

"He just came in."

"And the reason you didn't hex him or throw him out?" Greg spat.

"I can't get into trouble. I'm on probation."

"There was no one here. You could have gotten away with it," Theo muttered.

"I'm not risking that."

Pansy leaned forward. "Why didn't you find us?"

Draco felt cornered. They wanted to know the same thing Longbottom wanted to know. "I didn't feel like it."

"More like you're ashamed," Greg huffed. "You and your mum really did save Potter, didn't you? You're the reason that we lost the war!"

Draco didn't have the heart to refute it. They were obviously here to confront him about it.

"It's true then?" Theo said.

"It has to be, cause you aren't denying it!" Pansy hissed.

"There's nothing to deny," he replied softly. He didn't care about being outnumbered and defenseless. He was a leader and he wouldn't bow to anyone again.

"You betrayed the Dark Lord!" Greg spat.

"I guess I did. He was a madman, Greg."

"Don't you talk about the Dark Lord like that!" Pansy shrieked.

"Why not? He's dead. Thank Merlin and Morgana for that."

"Our parents are in Azkaban, Draco!" Theo stated.

"That was their decision. They choose to follow him," Draco said, quietly.

"You're marked, too, Draco! You pledged your undying loyalty!" Greg hissed.

"A pledge I gave at wandpoint and never wanted to take. He was a fucking lunatic!"

Greg stood up and grabbed him. He pulled up him shoved him against the window and hit him hard in the gut a few times. "Shut up! You are going to pay for your betrayal!"

The door slid open, again. "I think it's too crowded in here. I suggest you all find a different compartment," said the cool, calm voice of the Savior. "Let him go."

Greg did and faced Potter. "This doesn't concern you, Potter. This is Slytherin business."

"It's my business, now. Consider me the helpful constable. Get out, before I make you."

"You're outnumbered, Potter," Pansy sneered.

"I don't think I am. I'm usually surprised Goyle can dress himself, much less knows what end of his wand to use. Your wandwork was never practically impressive, Parkinson," Potter shot off without missing a heartbeat. "Zabini here stayed out of the war. I doubt he's interested in your bullshit now, so that leaves Nott to do the fighting for you. I'm pretty sure he's not as powerful as Voldemort."

Draco winced again and sat down, shaking.

Greg and Pansy hissed, and she shrieked, "How dare you!"

"If there's anyone who can say his name, it's probably the guy that killed him. He's dead, you insipid bitch. Scram. I have better things to do than waste words on blowhards."

"Shut up! You will-"

Potter pulled out his wand. "One more word out of you, and it'll be a week before you can talk, again."

Pansy sucked in a breath and brushed up on Potter on the way out. Greg forcefully pushed Potter out of the door. Theo followed, smirking a bit, but Blaise looked back at him, apologetically, before leaving, too. Potter came in and closed the door.

"Troubles with your house, Malfoy?"

"It's not your concern. I can handle them."

"Yeah, handle. You were handling them quite well. You enjoy being used as a punching bag?"

Draco grimaced. "It's none of your concern, Potter."

"I don't let anyone hurt other people and do nothing."

"My hero."

Potter chuckled. "Neville said that you weren't being an asshole for once."

"There's not really a point anymore."

"I didn't realize that it was necessary to be one to begin with, but I'm not a bully... so... maybe there is a reason."

Draco glared at him. "Yes, we all know that you're Saint Pottah, and the rest of us lowly mortals should grovel at your magnanimous feet."

Potter laughed. "I don't need groveling, just less hexes and vitriol."

"I didn't realize you knew words that complex," Draco muttered.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said, with a laugh.

Draco smiled, too. It was easy to banter with Potter. "Are you sure that you want to be seen in my company? Wouldn't want you to tarnish your golden boy rep and all."

"I don't give a flying broomstick what people think of me, Malfoy. Never had, and quite frankly, I've been mobbed by half the train for my autograph and a photo. At least I don't have to worry about you doing that."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "I already have your autograph."

Potter looked at him confused.

"Thank you for sending my wand back," he said.

Potter smiled. "It was only right. Thanks for the loan. Does it still work for you?"

Draco nodded.

"Good, I was worried. I hardly need two wands."

"You could have put it in a museum in a few years. The Wand That Defeated the Deathstick."

Potter shrugged. "If you want, by all means, but it's yours. It belongs with you."

Draco nodded. He wanted to ask Potter more questions, but he looked out the window.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone.

Draco nodded again and looked out the window. "Thank you, Potter... for the intervention, but you're only delaying the evitable. They are Slytherins... they can be subtle."

"You guys aren't that subtle, trust me. See ya, Malfoy," Potter laughed and walked out of the door.

Draco turned back to see that he was gone and felt strange. A somewhat pleasant conversation with Potter? It was weird. But he looked out the window, again, but he was starting to feel hope. Maybe the Gryffindors would help protect him. They are noble like that. But something deep down wondered if he could form friendships with them, too.

No. Gryffindor and Slytherins didn't belong together. Everyone knew that.