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Sixth Year Slump

Summary:

The war ends too quickly for Harry to make sense of what comes after. Instead of feeling relief, he’s left untethered. Draco, meanwhile, is stuck with the wreckage his father left behind. When new interhouse friendships begin pulling the two of them into the same orbit, the line between tolerance and tenderness begins to blur.

Modern 6th Year AU where Voldemort died in the Department of Mysteries.

Set in 2016, for the vibes.

Mood board (no spoilers): https://pin.it/7K5BDyoXG
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/24snzFjWVbDbPZKqgyJB7m?si=wgyB9k5NSBONJAOoxtf9TQ&pi=oTJ37NelSQScr

Notes:

This chapter is going to be shorter than the rest! Chapters 1 and 3 I wrote a year before I decided to turn it into a fic! This fic is self indulgent but if anyone is reading this hiiii thank you for giving this fic a try or even just clicking.

I’m not a writer, just a reader and Drarry Stan :)

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“How much longer until we reach Hogwarts? I need to get off this bloody train. I’m starving.”

“Blaise, I will buy you something from the trolley if you shut the fuck up.”

“How generous of you, Pansy. I’m touched.”

“Draco, darling, are you awake? You can’t leave me to deal with Blaise alone.”

Draco lifted his head from the table with a groan. So much for dissociating. “I was trying.” he said.

“Cheer up, dear. This is going to be the best year ever,” Pansy said, putting her arm around him. “The war is over. It’s sixth year. Umbitch is gone. Things are finally going to be normal.” She beamed. “Don’t look at me like that, you two. I’m serious.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Pansy, if you go on your interhouse-unity tangent one more time, I swear—”

“What’s up, wankers?” Theo said as he dropped into the seat beside Blaise, coming back from patrol. How he was chosen to be a prefect, Draco would never know. “Don’t look so glum, Draco,” he added, pouting.

“That’s just his face,” Blaise said.

Draco just shook his head and smirked.

The Malfoy name was damaged. Lucius was locked away in Azkaban. Draco’s alleged ties to the Dark Lord were disproven, but people still had their suspicions. For good reason. Last year, Potter and Dumbledore somehow managed to kill Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries before things could get any worse. Apparently their magic combined in just the right way. Lucius had been there and was caught. Draco wasn’t upset about that. His father deserved it.

If Voldemort were alive, Draco’s sixth year would look very different. Thank Merlin—or thank Potter, really. Bloody Potter.

All Draco needed to do was stay out of trouble, get good marks, and do well in Quidditch. It was overwhelming. So no, he didn’t particularly care to listen to his friends go on about how easy the year was going to be. Easy for them, maybe. Especially Pansy’s interhouse-unity delusions. Slytherin will always be Slytherin.

He stared out the window at the Scottish countryside while his friends carried on, talking animatedly about the year ahead.