Hello everyone, I'm back with another fanfic! A true gryffindor was great but I guess it kind of flopped out at the end and I think I should leave it at that sorry about that, I feel like I failed people :(. This idea I have had for sooo long and I know its a popular theory and I think its a really plausible one, so I decided to put it in my own words! If this isn't that good and doesn't do that well then I'll let it go but let me know what you guys think! P.S I have another account on Ao3 and I might put it up there too x

Malfoy Manner was a black outline under the dark and starry sky. But this was no peaceful evening for star gazing, this was hell condensed into one night, for one young boy at least. His mother had felt it on her arm, the striking and burning pain that radiated from the death eater mark, her face white with fear.

"What's happening mum?"

"He's coming. Follow me and stay close to me the whole time. Don't let go of my hand."

"I'm not five anymore, I can handle him- "

"Do as I tell you. You have no idea." And with that Narcissa pulled her son's arm firmly and locked their hands together. They entered the dining room, and he was there. In the middle of the room surrounded by his favourite death eaters, was Voldemort. His eyes were so red, so full of rage, but his body and demeanour were still like a peaceful ocean. His voice was full of control and composure, Voldemort expressed his emotions on different platforms.

Draco didn't remember exactly what Voldemort had said, he remembered hearing the news of his father's imprisonment in Azkaban, as he had been caught by the ministry retrieving a prophecy for Voldemort, and he remembered feeling rage and hurt that his father could be treated like that. Then he remembered Voldemort's voice change as he told them that Lucius had smashed the prophecy, and had failed him greatly. He remembered feeling his mother's grip get a lot tighter, feeling her palms sweat against his. He remembered when he had realised how serious this was, and truly angry Voldemort was with his family. He remembered the words "This cannot go unpunished." Uttered from Voldemort's straight lips, and seeing his hand beckon him to come forward.

The beast. The one that never left Draco's head after that night. The one who left his mark, not just the physical.

Greyback.

He remembered his mother's pleads for mercy, her constant cries of 'No!'. Draco had never heard her like that, so desperate and powerless, he had no idea what all of this meant. "Step aside Narcissa." Greyback had growled, his heavy footsteps were drowning out the other sounds in the room. Draco was a deer in headlights, he couldn't move a muscle, he could only stare at him as he tried desperately to work out what was about to happen to him. He remembered feeling his mother's hand leave his, and this made Draco yell involuntarily. Greyback's face was right in front him, and Draco had begun to shake, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He remembered everything after that. Everything. In so much painful and exquisite detail. It would never leave him.

Greyback's touch. His smell. His hair. The pain. The screams from himself and his mother. His body on fire.

Draco shot up in his bed, his knuckles white as he clutched the duvet covers. His breaths came in desperate gasps; he could feel his pyjamas sticking to his sweating thin frame. Another nightmare had come and gone, and this was always the result for him, as it was always the same nightmare. Draco would not go back to sleep for the rest of the night, and he had only managed to get a meagre three hours and that was one of his worse nights (the best were six hours).

This was Draco's life, and he was learning to accept it if one night at a time. He would calm down in ten minutes, splash his face with cold water, and lay down in his bed for the rest of the night until morning, awake. Life would never go back to normal, not after that night, and Draco was learning that this was it for him.

He knew it would kill him one day, but for now he had duties to carry out and a mother to protect, he could never let that happen to her. Never.

Life had changed so much since the end of fifth year, and so had Draco's agenda on Voldemort. But there was no room for discussion about that, and no room for his emotions. For now, Draco would have to learn how to manage his new life, for his mother.

A gloomy and stagnant night had descended upon one young man. The summer air was sticky and humid against his face, all he wanted to do was climb into his bed (his Hogwarts bed at least), and never return. His friend's kind words and caring gestures were not having their desired effect, in fact, they were having quite the opposite effect of making him angry. He wished this was all a bad dream, just like one of his nightmares that was gone with the opening of his eyes. But of course, Harry knew better than to think like that.

His godfather, the best and bravest man in the world, had been killed by an evil and lifeless soul, in front of his eyes. Harry knew that the mental film of his godfather's death would carry on playing in his head for a long time; there was no stop button he could find. Grief was a poison in his brain, an incurable disease.

Which reminded him, shouldn't he be doing something right now?

Harry shook his head from his day dream. He was back in the room - his room at the Dursley's to be specific - and he had stopped in-between changing a pillow case to day dream about that day. He couldn't say his godfather's name, couldn't even think it. It was too painful, like pressing an open wound that was still oozing blood. Time had passed by Harry since then, but it had not healed him, it had only brushed his side with sympathetic strokes.

Harry longed for the summer holidays to be over, when he could be in the safest place in the world with his favourite people, and eat a square meal. But he would have to wait this one out, with only his disturbing thoughts and dreams to keep him company. Life had changed so much since the end of fifth year, and Harry would have to learn to adapt with his life line gone.

Petunia's screeching of Harry's name pierced the silence.

I'll go mad here…