Thread: The 8th Year [HP] (xjynx & lia)

I'm ignoring the fact that the Mark is on the wrong arm and saying this was a mirror image . Conflicting. That was an appropriate word for the emotions that had been rolling around his chest and torso for the past several weeks. Months. Years. All of the above. The end of the war came and went, and Draco and his family were never going to be the same. Not that he expected that they would be. Not really. There had been a time when he was much younger that he had held such grandiose ideals. He had thought, as a young boy and even a young man, that The Dark Lord would win the war and, because of his father's loyalty and hard work, riches and spoils and fame would be bestowed upon them. Those dreams were dashed during the summer between his fifth and sixth year, of course. There would be no fame or golden spotlight upon the Malfoy family. Ever. They had done nothing, in the end. They hadn't fought on either side, instead preserving themselves as best they could. Of course, the Wizarding world at large hadn't seen it that way, not that any of the Malfoys had expected them to. His father's trial was quick, and he was sentenced to a dozen years in Azkaban. That wasn't surprising. That Harry Potter had testified at Lucius' trial was, however. Draco thought that Potter's testimony was the only reason that Lucius wasn't handed a lifetime in the dank prison. At least it wasn't guarded by Dementors anymore... Lucius had a decent chance of keeping his mind and coming out somewhat mentally intact. Draco knew, without a doubt, that it was Potter's testimony that saved himself and his mother from a prison sentence. Nothing, however, could have made himself and his mother return to the Manor, regardless of the sentimentality of his childhood home. The large building no longer felt like home. It felt cold and dank and dark. More Dark magic had been performed inside of the Manor in the past few years than all of the other centuries combined. After their trials, Draco and Narcissa had rented a penthouse flat in the middle of London. They chose a very open floor plan, with light colors and airy fabrics. The house elves had brought some of their possessions, but most had been left at the Manor. While he and his mother had avoided Azkaban, they had both been sentenced. Narcissa to community service, serving two years as a volunteer at St. Mungo's, and Draco to help the rebuilding effort. Draco was also ordered to return to Hogwarts with the rest of those students who would have been in their seventh year with him to complete his NEWT testing. Which was why the blond was standing now in the middle of his bedroom suite, on the morning of September first, looking a bit lost. His trunk had been packed and transported already, the blond having long decided against taking the train with the other students. He had gotten permission from the headmistress to use her floo. Draco was debating going now and settling into the dorms, but even that thought was depressing. He knew that most, if not all, of his former housemates wouldn't be returning with him. There were a few possibilities, but Draco hadn't spoken to any of them. The other option was to mope around the house while his mother was at the hospital for her shift, and that didn't sound appealing either, for obvious reasons. After another hour of debate, the former choice won out. Headmistress' office, Hogwarts! The blond stepped into the green flames and stepped out into a decidedly less cluttered office. McGonagall wasn't there, but he was sure that she had been alerted to his presence. With that in mind, Draco set out to find the witch. It wasn't that difficult, really. McGonagall greeted him as warmly as could be expected for someone with his past, and directed him to a set of rooms, surprisingly, on the fifth floor. The usual dorms don't offer the room we would need to house the students returning to complete their education from before the war, she explained. We have added a set of rooms for all 'eighth year' students that will serve as your dorms. You will belong to no house, but will attend classes with the current seventh years based on the house you were in while in school. She walked with him to show him the way, offering the password to the portrait of Eirene, the Greek goddess of peace. Inside was what would serve as a common room. The colors were rich, warm chocolates and soothing creams. A banner for each house hung on a wall. The room was circular, and there were six doors around the perimeter. Two boys and girls dormitories each, with one loo for each gender as well, the witch explained. The rest of the rules will be explained at the feast and you should find your trunk in the second boys dormitory. Draco nodded, thanking the headmistress as she left. The former Slytherin entered the dorm she had indicated, looking around. The color scheme was similar to the common area, for which Draco was grateful. His trunk was situated at the end of the first bed and he set to unpacking himself, noting that there were six other beds besides his own. If each room was similar, that meant that only twenty-eight students were opting to return for their eighth year which Draco found interesting. It didn't take long to unpack and get settled. The afternoon sun was streaming through high windows in the room as the blond stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes to rest before what was sure to be an interesting evening.