The Thunder in My Heart

No! Not Potter!

Draco was pleasantly surprised and somewhat relieved that the eighth years were given a wide berth by the other students. It may have been because the eight young adults appeared so different from the rest of the school; or that there was only eight of them, making them a rather elite and intimidating group; and perhaps matters were aided because he walked into the already crowded Great Hall dressed head-to-toe in muggle clothes with a rebellious-looking Harry Potter by his side and they appeared to be chatting like lifelong friends. Draco and Potter were followed by Blaise and Granger, Hannah and Longbottom, and Susan and Terry, sending a very clear message to everyone that they weren't holding any grudges and Hogwarts' houses no longer created boundaries. Or perhaps it was the way the year eights all sat together at their separate table, apparently unfazed by either who they were sitting next to or the whispered attention and stares they were receiving from everyone else. Although the truth was, despite the Malfoy mask and the image change, Draco was very bothered but somehow it felt okay to be sitting next to Potter, it offered him a modicum of security and he felt safe, temporarily at least. He'd felt it from the moment Potter had asked to see his ink work on the train.

Whatever the reason, the distance they were given by the other students proved most welcome. As did having their own eighth-year space. In truth, Draco was rather relieved not be facing another year in the dungeons despite being not so sure about sharing his space with people from the other houses. But the dungeons carried too many unhappy memories, especially from the past two years. He supposed it was the same for all them in their different ways; even the winning side had bad dreams. Perhaps there was little difference between being a Gryffindor or a Slytherin when it came to nightmares that twisted the night into endless knots of pain. And although he was reluctant to admit it, his summer living in muggle London had taught him much in terms about the idiocy of blood purity, not that he could admit that aloud. He needed to assess the ley of the land before admitting to the many faults in his past behaviour. It was enough that he'd apologised, and although he meant every word, it was also a shrewd political move.

The eighth-year common room and dorm area was tucked away from the rest of the school, up near the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor. Draco thought that maybe it was the Relativity Laws of Quantum Magic that allowed Hogwarts to create this temporary new space which was to be home for the next year, he thought he might talk to either Terry or Granger about it at some moment as a way to build some bridges. He immediately felt at home in the new dorm area. The common room itself was a warm neutral colour focused around an enormous fireplace. A huge rug, curtains and accessories pulled together all the house colours, thankfully without too much garish red. Granger's monstrous cat had already found its way to the common room and was curled up quite immovably on what look to be the comfiest armchair next to the fire. There were eight individual rooms along a corridor off to one side. All the rooms had double beds and ensuite bathrooms. The corridor was not segregated by gender so Granger was next door to him. Susan and Longbottom were the other side. Hannah, Potter, Blaise and Terry were across the corridor. It felt very grown up and a move on from normal Hogwarts life yet still with the same safety. Yes, he could admit that, it felt safe.

Draco more than welcomed the prospect that he didn't have to share a bedroom, not least because of the nightmares that still haunted his sleep. But now, more than ever, he valued his privacy, especially after sharing his home with a whole host of Death-eaters over the past few years, especially after those who had lurked in the shadows and rather unnervingly watched his every move as he was evaluated and judged for carrying the Malfoy name and the destiny to follow in his father's footsteps. At least, that was how he justified the watching; he quashed the little voice in his head that suggested that perhaps at least one of the men had an ulterior motive for watching a sixteen-year-old boy. Thank Merlin, no one dared to make a sordid move on Draco whilst the Malfoys still garnered some sort of favouritism under Voldemort. Somehow, despite the numerous mistakes his father had made and the tenuous situation the family had been put under, Lucius had remained in the higher echelons of Voldemort's inner circle until the end. Draco still didn't understand how his father had escaped Voldemort's deadly wrath or all the charges laid down by the Wizengamot. He quietly suspected it involved what many of both his former Ministry workers and the Death-eaters would consider a traitorous tongue and probably very large sums of money which went to both sides. Lucius played his own, very private, game to ensure his survival and Draco had little doubt that his father's life was probably in severe danger from both fractions of the war, even in France. Draco was glad to remove himself as far as possible from any associations with the man and he didn't want to be privy to his father's machinations.