Draco lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The windows were wide open, for he didn't bother to close them. The sacramento green drapes were drawn close, making the room even darker. The cold wind entered through the window freely. It was a late, winter night.
He shut his eyes tight, feeling the bitterly cold air hit against his pale skin. He had long thrown off his blankets and neither did he cast a warming charm. The environment was too familiar to him. It reminded him of his nasty fate and his pathetic excuse of a life.
The grandfather clock struck three and he still was not asleep. He simply could not. The war might have been over, but he was still struggling. Struggling to think about what to do with life next. In all honesty, he felt like he didn't have any purpose to live anymore.
After the war, he and his mother were spared from having to end up in Azkaban, all thanks to Potter. His father, however, had done enough misdeeds to be incarcerated, unfortunately. It had taken a while for his mother to finally accept that. She still loved her husband just as much as she loved her son, regardless of what he had done. All the Malfoy inheritance had gone to Draco, of course. The family's reputation might not be the same, but they were still rich. He didn't need any job, truth to be told, he could live his entire life with all the money he had inherited.
Draco didn't go outside of the manor often, stayed in his room most of the time. His mother would call him for the meals and he would follow. What or where would he go, anyway? People loathed him, flinched when they heard his name. He had attended his final year at Hogwarts, just because his mother insisted. No one would interact with him except for glaring at him. It was as if he didn't exist. His friends hadn't returned for their final year and he had been left all alone.
Even so, he had scored quite well in his N.E.W.T.S, only second to Granger. Granger. He scoffed at the name. The Mudblood Granger who always was somehow better than him despite her blood status. Of course, he got rid of the blood prejudice after the war. He did not want to end up like his father.
He had seen her the other day, at the library. What a ridiculous name Lovegood chose for the library, he thought. It was getting suffocating in his room so he had finally decided to go out, disguised so that at least he wouldn't have to deal with the disgusting looks from people. He had seen a library still open and recognised as the new library Luna Lovegood had recently started. When he entered, he hadn't expected to see Hermione Granger.
He last saw the brunette witch in Hogwarts. Her two prat best friends hadn't returned, gone for Auror training, he had heard. Granger now worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They were very successful too, relishing their lives to the fullest. The so-called 'Golden Trio' grew famous day by day; they made it to almost all the front pages of newspapers, heck, they were even featured in the cards of Chocolate Frogs. All of these had started to get annoying to Draco and he couldn't help but feel jealous, like always.
He had ignored Granger and had strolled in the library, wanting to have absolutely no interactions with her. He had tried to read a few books to distract his mind but Merlin's beard, her staring at him felt way too frustrating. Just a few minutes after, he had left the library and apparated to the Malfoy Manor.
At least they were living the life like they wished to. He glared at the thought, glancing at the dark mark on his left forearm. After the Dark Lord's defeat, the Mark didn't burn anymore but the scar was still there. It had faded away slightly, but it would remain there forever. Every single time he saw it, he hated himself even more. The guilt consumed him and he felt that people were justified to loathe him. After all, he did so many wrong deeds. There was no way to run from it.
He wondered if someone ever would feel anything towards him, but hatred. Then again, it was just a thought.
A silly, dubious thought.
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"Come in."
"Hermione, it's me. Can I come in?"
She looked up from her disorganised paperwork and files at the second knock. She was too occupied with her work that she forgot to lift the Muffliato charm. "Harry." She lifted the charm before repeating herself. "Of course. Come in."
Hermione forced a small smile on her face, seeing her best friend enter the room before shutting the door behind him.
"Busy day?" The black-haired, bespectacled man asked, glancing at all the papers sprawled on her desk.
She sometimes forgot how much they had actually grown over all these years. They were already twenty years old adults. She still remembered the time when Harry and Ron had saved her from the Mountain Troll during her first year and they had become the best of friends ever since. Time passes so quickly.
"You have no idea." She muttered, sighing.
"Hermione, I already told you to go home now. You have worked enough today. You need rest-"
"Harry, it's fine. I'm almost done for today anyway." She says before continuing, "I still do not understand how all of these murders are occurring and who is behind it. Most of the recorded Death Eaters are-"
"- currently behind the bars of Azkaban and the few who aren't, is either dead or redeemed." He finished for her, taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk. "We already know, 'Mione. We are still trying to figure it out."
She was just about to say something about the matter when Harry cut her off. "Enough about work. I came here to invite you to dinner tonight, at 12 Grimmauld Place. Ginny says you must come, no excuse, or else you will have to face her wrath." He spoke, smiling brightly.
She chuckled to herself, thinking about her fiery red-headed friend. She and Harry had gotten together immediately after the war, the couple was very much in love and she was happy for the two of them. "Invitation accepted, Harry. How could I possibly say no to Ginny?" She says, laughing lightly.
"Excellent! I'll see you tonight, then" Harry said a bit hurriedly, the smile not fading away as he left her office.
Hermione turned back to her desk to start organising her files when The Daily Prophet caught her eyes once again. The headline read, 'Mysterious murders still occurring'. She furrowed her brows, still thinking deeply about the case. Whoever was behind it, she was going to stop it.