Chapter One

After the War, the funerals were endless and the dust settled only to leave a clear view of the rubble left behind.

Draco Malfoy was unsure of what to do for the first time in his life. The war may have torn him apart, but becoming a Death Eater to keep his family alive was never an option. So there he was, sitting in the Malfoy's vacation home in France, staring at his Hogwarts letter.

Draco never expected to be invited back - after all, he let Death Eaters into the school and tried to kill Dumbledore. His actions during the war were less than impressive and his main focus now was to rebuild the Malfoy family name and hope not to be shunned for the rest of his life.

But sitting there was the letter that gave him a choice. With his father in Azkaban and his mother under house arrest, he was the only one in his family able to carry on without restriction. All thanks to Harry Potter. Harry Bloody Potter.

All Draco wanted was to be independent, away from his stupid burden to the Saviour of Wizarding World. Taking a look around him, around that small home that was darker than it should be on such a pretty, late summer day, he realized that accepting this letter would take him back to all the bad memories, back to Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio, and perhaps back to an opportunity for a better future. He knew that some of his friends wouldn't return - Vince would never even have the opportunity. Pansy probably would return, even after the whole "give-him-Potter" fiasco. Draco knew that her parents valued education too much, even if it was for social reasons. Blaise would go, even if he was a bit colder to Draco than he'd been before the hell of the War, but Draco thought that was fine - the more Slytherins, the better. He thought of his classes, Quidditch, and all the other things normal teenagers would look forward to.

Draco was so busy thinking about his possible future he did not notice the rustle of grass outside or the wards being set off. He did notice, however, when there was a hesitant knock at the door.

Walking to the entrance, Draco's mind raced; he wasn't expecting anyone and Merlin knew he had enough to do without the distraction of guests. Opening up the door, his cold Slytherin façade broke for a moment when he saw the very epitome of all he was trying to avoid and forget.

"Potter?"

*The Gryffindor blinked at Draco.

Draco blinked back.

Then he slammed the door in Potter's face.

"What the bloody –? Malfoy! Open the door," Draco heard Potter squawk through the wooden entrance. The blonde leaned back against the thin barricade, thoughts frozen as he continued to hear angry mutters from the other side. Why the fuck was Potter – "The Boy Who Conquered Death Twice" or whatever in the world the Prophet was calling him this week – at his supposedly heavily-warded home in France? Was he here to drag him to Azkaban single-handedly? But the trials had already happened! And Potter had vouched for him, even!

Draco took a deep breath, donning his infamous Malfoy aura before straightening and turning to the door. No way was he going to Azkaban without a fight – even if it meant harming the bloody Saviour, the clot of a man he had a life-debt to.

Draco slowly opened the door again, coolly gazing at the indignant Potter who stood on his stoop. "Lost, Potter?"

Emerald eyes burned with simmering annoyance as they pierced his stone gaze. "Not quite, Malfoy. May I come in?" The civil words seemed to pain Potter as they eked out of his mouth. Draco was hesitant for just a moment, but he realized that if Potter had already found out where he was living, had gotten through his wards, and seemed to think he had the power to order Draco around – then, well, Potter probably did have the power to do just about whatever he liked. But that didn't mean Draco was going to be cooperative.

"Yes, please, O Holy One, grace my humble hovel with your presence," Draco drawled sarcastically, bowing ironically while waving an arm to welcome Potter into his home. Potter scowled, but walked in, letting Draco shut the door behind him.

The front door opened up into the large room that served as a kitchen, dining room, and parlour, allowing Potter awkwardly shuffle in before perching himself on the arm of the couch. Draco just narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms while staring down the other eighteen-year-old.

"Well…?" Draco finally said impatiently after a few moments of heavy silence.

Potter reached inside his robes, causing Draco to have a sudden flash of panic, the long scar on his chest seeming to throb momentarily. But Potter didn't hex him, he merely held out an average-length wand, dark and simply carved. It took Draco another second of silence, but then he recognized the stick.

His pale, once-flawless (now covered with still-healing nicks and callouses from his harsh treatment during the War) hand darted out, snatching the hawthorn wand out of Potter's grasp. His lips parted slightly in wonder as he cradled the wood he never thought he'd see again. Warmth rushed through his fingertips, a feeling of rightness filling the hole he hadn't even really noticed was there.

"You're welcome. Now I have to go meet with Witch Weekly for some barmy interview about my 'ability to woo witches with my wand' or something, and then have dinner with Teddy and Andromeda, so pardon me, Malfoy," Harry sighed, sounding harassed as he began heading for the door.

"Wait, Potter. Andromeda –?" Surely it wasn't his estranged aunt… Andromeda was a relatively common name, right?
"Andromeda Tonks. She's your aunt or something, isn't she, Malfoy?" A bitter twist came to Potter's smirk. "Oh, but that's right – your family shunned her for marrying a Muggle." Potter regarded Draco with mild disgust. "Merlin knows she is a better witch than the rest of your family ever was. But I guess they got what they deserved in the end."

Malfoy's eyes flashed with rage, his body reacting before his mind really caught up. A silver flash of light shot from the end of his newly-repossessed wand, hitting an off-guard Potter straight in between the eyes.

Time seemed to slow as Draco watched Potter fall to the floor, his head hitting the dark chestnut boards with a dull thud.

"P-Potter?" Draco called softly, tentatively shuffling closer to the fallen figure. His eyes widened as he finally saw what the spell had done.

"Well, fuck."

End Chapter One