Beautiful Shards (A Drarry Fanfic)

Chapter Two: Draco- Platform 9 3/4

Draco Malfoy spent his last two weeks of the summer holidays doing everything he could to avoid his mother without her noticing. He just couldn't bear the tears he saw in her eyes when she looked at him. It just made him hurt more.
Ever since the war, Draco had been... different. He knew he was, but he couldn't change it. He hadn't been happy in months, and all the color and life seemed to have leaked out of the world while he wasn't looking.
If he wasn't guilty, he was angry- at no one but himself, and if he wasn't angry, he was lonely. But no matter what, he was always tired.
Draco never slept well now.
Every night ghosts glided through his dreams, accusations in their eyes. Every night they came for him. They knew who he was. They knew what he'd done. Everyone knew what he'd done.

Eventually September first came about, and Draco was dreading going back more than ever. It wasn't that he didn't like classes or particularly hated homework. He'd always been an exceptional student, contrary to popular belief. No, what he didn't want to face was the other students.

Draco decided to go to the platform early while there was hardly anyone there. Maybe, he thought, maybe there wouldn't be anyone there. Maybe, with any luck, no one would see him. So, after a long and tearful goodbye to Mother, he apparated to Kings Cross.
Once there, he waited for a moment until he could go through the barrier to platform 9 3/4 without the muggles noticing.
Ater a few minutes, he went through onto the platform and took a quick look around.
There were already about ten students there, all with their parents.
The fact that there were so few people, and that he was alone, made him stand out, which he didn't need help doing.
As soon as he walked through the entrance, more than a few pairs of eyes looked up at him, curiosity at first, then recognition, then anger and loathing and accusations. Just like the ghosts in his dreams.
He made his way to the train as quickly as he could, dragging his trunk behind him, aware of the dagger glances that the people on the platform were shooting at his back.
This was exactly the reason he didn't want to go back. This was the reason he had barely left the manor this summer. He couldn't handle the fact that everyone hated him. Everyone, including himself.
Whispers followed him as he walked, as he had known that they would:

"Death Eater..."

"Murder..."

"Voldemort's pet..."

"I heard he killed someone."

"I heard he tortured a muggle-born until she went mad."

"Back to finish off the Mudbloods, are you?"

"Go join your precious father in Azkaban!"

He walked faster. He couldn't escape fast enough to miss all the things they said, though, and they stuck with him as he boarded the train, stowed his luggage, and entered the compartment at the very back of the train.
He didn't want to be alone, he hated being so lonely, but he knew no one would want to sit with him. Maybe it was better that way. He didn't want anyone else to be as hated as he was. He didn't want to ruin someone else's life like he had his own.
He was so caught up in these thoughts that he almost didn't notice the huddled figure sitting by the window.