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He hadn’t wanted to cry. The man didn’t deserve Draco’s tears. It was incredibly conflicting to have lost his father in the way he had. He hated him, but he had still been his father at the end of the day. The mark that weighed so heavily on Draco’s soul was there because of his father’s mistakes, but he still mourned his loss all the same. To die inside Azkaban, well he struggled to imagine many things that might have been worse than that.
“Are you alright, son?” A man asked him, sitting down next to him on the bench. It was a little way away from Lucius’ grave, where Draco could still see it but wasn’t too close. He and his mother had decided not to put him in the family mausoleum. It was an ostentatious waste of time and money, so he was in a regular grave, the same as anyone else might be.
“I don’t know.” Draco answered honestly. He was rarely honest with people these days. They’d insist that he could tell them anything, but then it would all get a little too dark for their liking and they’d quickly change the subject before Draco could even begin to unload half the things that haunted him.
“Mm. That’s how I feel when I come here.” The man replied, twisting the top off a strange-looking rounded orange bottle. “If there’s anything you’d like to talk about, I’m a great listener. It’s sometimes easier to confide in strangers, I find. They don’t come with expectations.” Draco watched with a frown as he poured out what looked like tea into the cup-shaped lid of the bottle. The man held it in both hands before taking a sip.
“I haven’t seen one of those before.” He said, and the man glanced at him. A moment passed before he smiled.
“It’s a flask. Keeps your tea warm.”
“With charms?” He asked.
“With muggle science.” He replied. “The lid is also the cup, so it all stacks neatly together, you see.”
“Oh.” Draco blinked. “It’s my father. That I’m here to see.” He said after a moment.
The man nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss, lad. You’re far too young to be losing a parent.” He said, shaking his head slightly. Draco didn’t feel young, not after all that had happened to him. “I came to see my wife. She’s just over there.” He pointed at a grave covered in wildflowers.
“I’m sorry.” Draco said.
“Thank you.” The man replied, smiling at him sadly. “So, same time next week?” He asked suddenly, and Draco frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“Will you be here at the same time next week?”
“Um. Yes, probably.” He said.
“Excellent. I’ll bring two cups.”
“What for?” Draco asked.
“For the tea.” The man replied, before screwing the lid back on and walking off in the direction of the graveyard gates. He left Draco feeling somewhat confused, but he found that he didn’t mind it. It was better than the all encompassing bleakness he had been living in before, he supposed.
***
“Ah, my daughter went to Hogwarts.” The man replied as they sat on the bench, both drinking the tea he’d brought with him. Draco had learned that his name was Edward, his wife’s name was Helen, and he was a muggle. He found that he rather enjoyed his company, as odd as it might be. They didn’t know each other, but at the same time they did. It had been a few weeks of meeting up in the graveyard, and Draco found that the company was what he’d been needing.
“Really?” Draco asked, worrying that he had been awful to his daughter in the past. If she was a muggleborn around his age, it wasn’t unlikely.
“Mm. Gryffindor.” He said, chuckling as Draco involuntarily screwed up his face. “Let me guess, you were a slytherin?”
“I was. Or am. The headmistress has invited me back to repeat my final year, but I’m not sure if anyone would really want me there.”
“Why would that matter? If what you need, son, is to do your exams and find that sense of normality after all these years of upheaval, then the opinions of everyone else are irrelevant as far as I can see.” Ed replied. “If you’ve got apologies to make, then make them. As long as you mean it, then that’s all you can do. You’ve got to live for you, Draco, not anybody else.”
They’d skirted around the edges of talking about the war but had never delved into the grim details. Ed clearly knew about it, and perhaps even knew about his role in it, but he’d never pushed him further than he was comfortable with.
“I hurt a lot of people. People that will be there.” He said, itching his forearm as their faces flashed through his head.
“Then show them that you want to make amends. You’re not a bad person just because you’ve made mistakes. I’ve always thought I was a good judge of character, you know. I can tell at a glance what somebody’s soul is made of. Yours isn’t as black as you’ve been made to think it might be.” He glanced at Ed, but he was looking out over the graves. “Did you reach out to your friends yet?” Ed asked.
Draco sighed. “I don’t know what to say. I let them down too.”
“If they’re really your friends, lad, then they’ll forgive you. Take a leap into the unknown. I’ve got a feeling it’ll be ok. Start small. Who is the one person that you miss more than the rest?”
“Theo.” Draco replied, thinking about his best friend. They’d known each other since they were children, but as soon as they started Hogwarts, he sidelined him for the more openly loyal Crabbe and Goyle. Theo had never been hugely supportive of the blood purist rhetoric, despite coming from the infamous Nott family. He missed Blaise and Pansy too, but it had been years since he’d properly spoken to Theo. He wanted to know that he was ok. That they were ok.
“Then write to Theo.” Ed nudged him gently. “Talk about that flying sport you all do, or the weather, or what subjects you want to study. Offer the olive branch before too much time passes.”
“What if too much time has already passed?” Draco asked.
“Then you move on. Own your mistake. You’ve got so much of your life left to live, you can’t languish in the past any more. Go out there and show them all that you are not your father.” He said, lighting a fire deep within Draco that had gone out a long time ago.
He let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders back. “Ok.”
“Ok?” Ed raised an eyebrow.
“Ok.” Draco nodded. Ed smiled. They sipped their tea.
***
Draco couldn’t find anywhere to sit on the train. All the compartments were full and, despite Ed’s pep talk, he didn’t have the confidence to open any of the doors and ask if he could join them. They’d almost definitely say no anyway, so perhaps it was better not to bother. Theo, and Blaise and Pansy, had all replied to his owls and so he was well on his way to fixing what he’d broken with them. That didn’t mean he knew where they were, though. Instead, he leaned against one of the windows in the join between two carriages, trying not to think about how long he was realistically going to need to stand up for.
“Are you seriously going to stand there the whole time?” Somebody asked, and he spun around to see Hermione Granger looking at him, eyes full of mirth and a hand on her hip. “Come on, Malfoy. I’ve got space. Head girl privileges.” She nodded her head towards her empty compartment, and he blinked, not moving.
“You’re sure?” He asked slowly, and she smiled.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She looked at him as she slid open the door and he followed her inside, half operating on autopilot.
“Thank you.” He said as he sat down, and she nodded.
“Course. My dad always says it costs nothing to be kind. Even to you, I suppose.” She smirked up at him and she rummaged through her bag. It was clearly far larger than it looked, as she was up to her shoulder searching for something. Draco stared as she pulled out a familiar orange flask and two cups. “Tea?” She asked, looking at him innocently. For the first time in a very long time, he smiled.