The sky was clear and bright blue, brilliant rays of sunlight glinted off the sequiney leaves of sorrounding trees; even the gray headstones looked bright and hopeful.

Draco trudged around the Malfoy Family Plot in Merlin's Keep Cemetery in London. The cemetery was hidden from Muggle eyes and was the final resting place of hundreds-upon-thousands of generations of some of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. He weaved in and out of rows of crumbling graves emblazoned with names Draco had heard, but didn't actually know. Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he walked the route he knew all too well until he stopped in front of what was easily one of the newest headstones in the family plot.

Hyacinth Cepheus Malfoy

Born 11, October, 1982
Died 26, July, 1991

"A beloved brother and son; he will be greatly missed."

Below the inscription was a moving photograph of the boy; he was eight years old and looked very much like his brother and father with his pale, pointed face and platinum hair, though Hyacinth's hair had gone down to his chin, and he'd inherited his mother's powdery blue eyes instead of his father's stormy gray ones. His smile was big and bright and his eyes sparkled with excitement and the desire for a thrill. Normally, this picture would've made Draco burst into tears; but instead, he said, "hey, I, um,... I know it's not the 26th yet,..." he looked down at the six years worth of dead flowers from friends and family that littered the ground, wishing that his brother had decided to come back as a ghost so they could actually have a real conversation. "So... lots has happened since I came last year... Mother and Father aren't here right now, so I can tell you everything." He launched into an anecdote about how he'd regretted joining the Death Eaters the moment he was tasked with killing Dumbledore, yet he still attempted to go through with it, how he'd let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and if not for Potter and his friends' quick thinking, Voldemort probably would've taken the school then and there, how he just sat there and did nothing all last year as he watched his classmates get tortured, how Vincent Crabbe's death was even more his fault than the others because he'd been the one to pull him and Goyle  back to the castle, how he'd done absolutely nothing to help anyone in the battle,... "... and after all this, they're saying I'm good! They cleared me of all charges and McGonagall invited me back to Hogwarts! Mother and Father say I deserve a second chance... what d'you think, Hy?"

Of course, he didn't expect or receive any kind of answer; he just wanted to get his words out there and pretend his brother was standing right in front of him, listening. He let his words hang in the air for a few moments, ringing in his ears just as loud as the gentle breezes and the whooping of a single bird sitting high up in the great oak that was planted just behind Hyacinth's grave.

Draco shook his head. "You know what? Just... don't worry about it. I shouldn't have come to you... I mean... I-I killed you..." he turned his back to the grave and burst into tears.

The wind died down and the bird stopped whooping; the cemetery was completely silent other than Draco's sobs.

He looked up, a new glint in his eyes; a glint of possibility. He smiled and whispered, "thanks," before disapparating.

When he got inside the Manor, Draco's mother was already standing on the staircase. She didn't even get a chance to ask him where he was before he said, "Mother, I'm going back to Hogwarts."

She smiled brightly and hugged her son. "That's great, darling! Whatever changed your mind?"

"Umm..."

Narcissa shook her head. "You know what; it doesn't matter; the important thing is you're going back! When should we go to Diagon Alley? Tomorrow? Thursday?"

Draco frowned. "Um... actually... I think I'd like to go alone..."

People knew Narcissa had saved Potter's life in the Forbidden Forest; they respected her; Draco, meanwhile, was just a pathetic, good-for-nothing Death Eater who "needed to check his privilege"; she didn't deserve to be looked at like a leper just for being near him, which was exactly what would happen if she went with him to Diagon Alley.

The woman creased her forehead.

"I'm eighteen, Mother." He said quickly. "I can go by myself..." and he brushed past her, walking up the stairs.

____________

Sorry that took so long

And this chapter is so short

I was at camp for 2 weeks, so that kinda threw me off.

Love ya!

CC