Draco drank the potion with far more ease than the previous ones. The swelling was reducing and the gashes had finally stopped bleeding. His mind was starting to come around as well and while the pain still rang with each breath, it was not near the excruciating pain it had been an hour previous.
But it was nothing compared to the pain he would be in once his mother found out what he’d been up to…what had happened to him. Though, he hoped even she would see how their position in the world was no longer in its rightful place and that regardless of past failures to the cause, that the Malfoy’s held a set of beliefs that Draco could not, would not, turn his back on. The Cause behind the Dark Lord’s actions was still as valid and important as it had been before the Cause went askew. A Pure society – that was the essential nature of why Draco got involved again – and that was exactly what Draco stood for. He would help usher in a new era – one that he hoped could be swayed to do things differently than they had in the previous two wars.
The beating he’d received at the hands of Amycus Carrow, well, that remained a lesson he was still uncertain of beyond the notion that he’d been going about things all wrong. Though, going about things all right was still a somewhat foreign concept to the young man.
Be that as it may, Draco had to find a way to convince his mother that, while his bruises and cuts and breaks would mend, that he’d taken his dues and at least it would seem, he’d proven himself man enough to take what came to him. Time would tell how much.
For now, Draco nodded slightly and murmured a soft “Yes, Mum.” Very much as he had done as a small boy when caught with his hand in the cookie jar.