Chapter Two: Silent Observation
A true Malfoy never wears his emotions on the surface. One must observe carefully, draw conclusions quietly, and never betray a flicker of weakness.
Draco had learned this the hard way. The boy who once strutted through Hogwarts with arrogance had been reshaped by years of darkness into someone cautious, restrained, unreadable.
But such composure was dangerous before his parents. To them, he was still eleven. If they saw their proud, headstrong son suddenly subdued, they would suspect something was wrong. And how could he explain? Even he did not fully understand.
Distrust had become his habit. He no longer believed anyone could truly understand him—not even his parents.
So when he sat down at the breakfast table, he forced himself to play the lively child. He smiled, spoke lightly, and let the mask of innocence settle over him. It worked. Lucius and Narcissa ate serenely, unaware of the storm beneath his calm.
Draco watched them in secret. They looked so young—far younger than in his memories. His father's face was smooth, his hair gleaming, his robes immaculate. His mother was radiant, her elegance softened only by the warmth she showed to husband and son.
The memories were real. He knew it now, as he listened to them discuss the same Ministry intrigues he remembered.
"Cornelius Fudge has nominated himself for the Order of Merlin, First Class," Lucius sneered.
Narcissa sipped her tea, amused. "We do love these glossy little fudges, don't we? Vain, weak, easy to control. Let us hope he loves gold as much as power."
Lucius inclined his head. The game was the same as before: draw close to Fudge, exploit his vanity.
Draco could predict the next step. When dessert arrived, the conversation would turn to him.
"Durmstrang or Hogwarts?" Lucius asked, spoon poised over his pudding.
Draco stayed silent. He remembered answering too quickly once before, earning only scorn. His father had called him reckless, a foolish child. He would not repeat that mistake.
Lucius was always strict, always ready to cut him down when pride swelled. It was meant to teach humility, but the constant blows had left scars—turning him into a boy both arrogant and insecure.
No one could say Lucius did not love his son. In war, Draco had glimpsed rare flashes of paternal softness, like stars that shine only in the darkest night. But in peace, Lucius's tenderness was reserved for Narcissa.
Draco had once believed their marriage was nothing but alliance, a union of blood and ambition. Yet when ruin came, he had seen otherwise: Narcissa never abandoned Lucius, and Lucius, stripped of power, trusted only her. Perhaps there was love after all.
"I want Draco at Hogwarts," Narcissa said now, smiling faintly. "The son of a governor will not suffer there."
Lucius leaned back, eyes soft upon her. "Of course. He will be treated well. But Dumbledore's views on certain magic trouble me. Durmstrang might offer a stronger education."
"Durmstrang is abroad," Narcissa frowned. "I hear it is bitterly cold."
"I know its headmaster, Igor Karkaroff," Lucius replied, stroking his serpent‑headed cane.
Draco smirked inwardly. Karkaroff—coward, deserter, a Death Eater who fled at Voldemort's return. Hardly a man to trust.
The thought of Dumbledore brought a pang. The Astronomy Tower, the green flash, Snape's wand. The memory was unbearable. He forced himself to recite laws of transfiguration, uses of dragon's blood, Quidditch fouls—anything to drown the grief. Hermione Granger's voice echoed in his mind: Knowledge steadies the mind. She had been right.
Narcissa noticed his sigh. "Darling, tell us—where would you prefer to go?"
Draco had already decided. Durmstrang offered escape, but not safety. Hogwarts was dangerous, yes, but familiar. He had memories to guide him, mistakes to avoid. And Malfoy legacy was rooted in Britain. To abandon it would be betrayal.
And there was another reason—one he could not name. A fragile hope, a half‑remembered dream.
"Hogwarts," he said brightly, smiling at his mother. "I want to be close to you, so I can come home for Christmas."
Lucius's eyes narrowed, disdain flickering at his son's sentimentality. But Draco held his gaze calmly. He knew now that beneath the cold mask, there was love—even if only a grain.
"And Professor Snape will look after me," Draco added smoothly. "He is head of Slytherin, master of potions, skilled in the Dark Arts. I want to learn from him."
Lucius had no argument left.
Breakfast ended. Narcissa left, pleased, no doubt to send their reply to Hogwarts. Lucius lingered, looming over his son. "Do not cling to your mother. It is shameful. You are not a child. At Hogwarts, uphold our name. If I hear you are idle, forget coming home for Christmas."
Draco met his father's eyes. "Yes, Father."
Lucius faltered, unsettled by the strange calm in his son's gaze. He cleared his throat. "Tomorrow we go to Diagon Alley. Think of what else you need." Then he swept away.
Draco chuckled softly at the extra pudding left for him. His father was still so awkward.
In his past life, he had cried at such words, run to his mother for comfort, blind to the hidden care behind the gesture. Now he saw it clearly. Lucius's harshness masked expectation; the pudding was his clumsy kindness.
Alone, Draco ate slowly, thoughtful. The choice was made: Hogwarts.
Seven years of rivalry with Potter, Weasley, and Granger lay ahead. He remembered the fights, the humiliation, even Granger's fist against his jaw. He remembered his envy, his need to shine, his blind anger. How foolish he had been.
This time would be different. He had greater enemies to face. Voldemort had not yet returned, but the shadow stirred.
The Malfoy creed was clear: true honor lies not in never falling, but in rising again.
His memories were defeat. His rebirth was a chance to strike back.
It was not too late. Not too late to protect his family, his home, his pride. Not too late to choose differently.
Tomorrow he would meet Potter—the boy who had once saved him, the boy destined to stand against the Dark Lord.
Draco's lips curved faintly. "Harry Potter… let me see you anew."