LEGIONS IN LEGENDS [PJO X HP]

THIRTEEN: THE GOOD, THE EVIL, THE SILENT

"I CAN'T BELIEVE WE BEFRIENDED HIM!"

Nico di Angelo rolled his eyes. "He's a little rich white boy; what'd you expect?"

"Don't act like you aren't a little rich white boy as well," Travis pointed out, a smile growing on his face. Before Nico could protest, he added, "Hades, god of wealth, remember?"

The Son of Hades scoffed. "Don't compare me to him."

"That's not the point." Annabeth waved away Nico and Travis' pointless squabbling. She rubbed her temples. "The point is that Draco Malfoy is a son of a bitch and we should never have befriended him."

Percy leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips turned down. "I just don't get why he'd hide it from us. If he so blatantly chose Voldemort's side, why would he not brag about being a Death Eater? He holds some shame for his actions."

"Holding shame isn't a redemption arc, Percy," Annabeth sighed. "People can change over time, but Malfoy killed people. Countless deaths rest on his shoulders, and feeling guilt doesn't change that. It's literally the bare minimum."

"You're right." Percy averted his eyes. "But I'm just worried for Malfoy. Trust me, I know he's a jerk. His past is bullshit, I won't lie. I'm only hesitating because I don't want it to be too late for him."

"Too late?"

"We were sent on a quest to stop an evil force, remember?" The Son of Poseidon snatched his robes from the table and tugged them on. "I just don't want to see him join that evil force. I don't want him to feel like he has no other choice; that he isn't wanted anywhere else. I don't know. I'm going to class."

The demigods kept quiet as he left. They could not understand his point of view, nor why he would even consider giving Draco a chance- the boy had more than enough time to switch sides, and Percy knew this. He knew that change was risky for a Death Eater such as Malfoy, but it seemed he was the only one willing to bet on it.

"Hey, Jackson."

With Riptide's pen form twirling in his fingers, Percy looked up from his desk. A dark-skinned boy sat before him, a curious look resting on his features.

"Zabini, right?" he said cautiously. He had not talked to the Slytherin before, but a few names had been frequently mentioned by Malfoy, and Blaise's happened to pop up along with words like "complicated" and "Mr In-between." Percy had figured the nickname was something to do with teenage drama, but newly-discovered information painted Blaise as a middle point, a No-Side-Norris during the Second Wizarding War.

"Right," Blaise said. His eyes darted from left to right, watching Annabeth walk into the classroom, then Draco brooding silently in the corner. "You've found out by now, huh? I don't know if you noticed, but you've been glaring at Malfoy's shoes for the past three minutes. Now, maybe you're just jealous that his shoes are really clean, but..."

Percy raised a brow. "What? Yeah, we know about the Death Eater thing. I thought you were a friend of Malfoy's."

"Acquaintance, friend, whatever." Blaise shrugged. "But he knows my limits. I'm no Death Eater, nor am I a hero."

"So you didn't fight the war?"

"I couldn't. Pansy sent us back."

"But if you could, which side would you pick?"

"Neither. I'm equally disinterested—"

"Then you're almost just as bad," Percy interrupted, standing from his seat. "Choosing not to fight is siding with Voldemort, Zabini. I don't tolerate that."

The Son of Poseidon moved to sit next to his girlfriend. The whole class had heard the two boys' conversation, and Annabeth cocked her head to the side when he reached her.

"I think Draco knows we know."

"Let him learn."

You could imagine the shock Draco felt when he went to bed one night, grateful to have met new friends, then woke up the next morning to find out that they had discovered his awful past and were ready to act as if he was a monster. It was even worse when the demigods' dislike towards him was practically announced during the first class of the day, forcing him to hide his face in shame.

Shame. In shame of what? The fact that he donned the Dark Mark on his skin? His stupid, cowardly-self that hid his wrongdoings from his friends? The way he was called out by Percy Jackson in front of the whole class?

At first he held anger towards the green-eyed student, just like how all his reactions involved fury. Then a part of him wondered if he deserved it, and disappointment made its way past his throat, pooling in his stomach.

It was his fault, all his fault. For once, Draco Malfoy could not find another person to blame.

The question, however, lay in whether or not realisation was better than denial. In the past, he thought himself better than everyone else, unable to see the mistakes engraved in his actions. Now, self-awareness rained on him, whispering words of frustrated guilt and crying agony, and he seemed to be drowning in it all.

His ignorance was a raft, built to save him from the harsh waters of truth, but the moment reality dawned on him, the boat was stabbed from its front and back, watching with little emotion as he struggled to live on.