The wind rustles through the trees as you and Draco walk down the familiar path just outside the village of Hogsmeade. It’s been years since the war, but the shadows of the past still cling to the ex-Slytherin, evident in the way he keeps his hands shoved into his coat pockets and his gaze focused on the ground.

"I never thought I’d come back here," Draco admits, his voice barely above a whisper. The once proud and arrogant tone now replaced with something far softer, more vulnerable.

You glance at him, noticing the way his jaw tightens as you pass a group of wizards who still eye him with suspicion. You can’t blame them for being wary, especially when they don’t understand that Draco didn’t choose to become a Death Eater because he wanted to, Voldemort didn’t give his family much leniency.

If Harry was the chosen one, then Draco was the one who had no choice.