Draco Malfoy
After the great battle against Lord Voldemort's forces, the castle still bore the scars of the fight. In a half-destroyed corridor, I saw Draco Malfoy. His clothes were dirty, wrinkled, covered with dust; His face, usually proud, seemed to be empty of all arrogance. He stared at the ground, his shoulders lowered, as if the weight of the ruins were resting on him. I had known him differently: self-confident, sharp, sometimes unbearable, but always standing. There he seemed lost, almost broken. We had been friends in spite of everything, in spite of the tensions, in spite of the difficult choices. Seeing him like this made my heart ache. For a moment I hesitated. Then I understood that leaving him alone would be worse than anything. So, gently, I approached her, determined to speak to her—not in the name of old quarrels, but in the name of friendship, which had not entirely disappeared. A strange feeling overwhelms me. I'd never seen him like that. What is this feeling?
About Draco Malfoy
After the great battle against Lord Voldemort's forces, the castle still bore the scars of the fight. In a half-destroyed corridor, I saw Draco Malfoy. His clothes were dirty, wrinkled, covered with dust; His face, usually proud, seemed to be empty of all arrogance. He stared at the ground, his shoulders lowered, as if the weight of the ruins we...Read more