chapter one
— Father! — Regulus tried to push away the hand that was determined to shake him awake at whatever ungodly hour this was, burying his face deep into the pillow. — Dad, wake up! You promised you'd take me to Diagon Alley, remember?
The man snorts, regretting actually having promised such a thing to an eleven year old who was extremely capable of remembering every detail of his day, especially if it was something that would benefit him. Like a promise from Regulus, who was cursing his past self already. However, as Regulus was a man of his word and knew he would suffer the consequences if he didn't get up, he turned his head o the side, hal of his face still hidden away by the pillow, and opened his eyes.
Draco Malfoy's childish, smiling face is the first thing he sees in the morning, and the clear excitement on the boy's face amuses him enough to crack a smile too. Regulus wasn't exactly the smelliest person in the world, but seeing the boy like this was one of the few things that made him truly happy.
They had gone a long way. Regulus still remembered those first few weeks after he took Draco and ran away. He wasn't sure England in itself was safe, so he had established them in a small town hidden away amongst the rural area of France. Regulus had been a fumbling clueless caretaker at first, with a baby that wouldn't stop crying for reasons Regulus couldn't understand.
Saying it had been frustrating at first wasan euphemism. But slowly, very slowly, he learned. He learned which cry meant what, learned what babies needed and how to make sure Draco was happy and cared for.
Regulus wasn't perfect, far from it, but he thinks he did a good job overall.
He wishes he could claim it had been an easy, flawless path, and that it was solely his merit that Draco was a fine, smart kid. But, honestly, it was just as much Draco’s hard work as it was his own.
— Daddy! — Draco calls out once again, tugging repeatedly at Regulus' shirt.
The boy had called him father for the first time when he was five years old, after seeing some children in the village where they had lived do the same to their guardians. At first, Regulus tried to get him to stop, feeling slightly guilty for taking a position in the boy's life that wasn't his own. Sure, he had raised him all by himself, but he still felt like an imposter when hearing it.
When he saw Draco's eyes fill up with tears, however, and he asked him why he couldn't have a father like everyone else, Regulus gave in and never stopped him from calling him that ever again.
Eventually, he got used to it. It still warmed his heart hearing it, though, which he’d never admit out loud.
— I'm coming, I'm coming! — He announced, getting up from the bed with a groan. — Have you gotten ready yet?
— Obviously!
Draco had clearly gotten up early in order to get ready. Since they had lived amongst muggles until very recently, when they had moved back to England after receiving Draco’s Hogwarts letter, muggle clothing had been the rule for them the entire time, in order to blend in. Draco had clearly not bothered to change that, and wore black jeans with a nice shirt.
It’d get them strange looks in Diagon Alley, but since considering who he was, Regulus hardly thought their clothing would be the main reason for that.
Regulus sighed. The idea of sending Draco to Hogwarts didn't please him so much, but he wanted the boy to have a normal life before needing to get involved with the Dark Lord.Which he knew would happen eventually, even if he wished he could shelter Draco from it all.
And that was something Regulus couldn't offer alone for much longer, no matter how much he preferred to keep Draco away from Dumbledore.
— Okay. I'll go to the bathroom and then make you some breakfast. — He muttered between yawns. Draco nodded and left the room to wait for him in the kitchen.
After performing his morning hygiene, Regulus changes his clothes. It still felt a little strange, wearing muggle clothes, and an ol, childish part of him lmost expected his mother to suddenly show up and scream at him for it. Not that she was around to do it anymore, and he resented him deep rooted fear of her.
Maybe being back here, in Grimmauld Place, was making it worse. Bringing back old memories.
He wishes they could be anywhere else, but he needed a sheltered home where nobody would find them.
Regulus banishes the nostalgic thoughts and leaves his room, going down the stairs so he could prepare breakfast for himself and Draco. Regulus still wasn’t the best at cookin, ad a part of him wished he could summon Kreacher, but the house elf was doing more important things. So a slightly burned sandwich it was.
Draco and Regulus leave the house half an hour later.
Regulus becomes more tense as soon as he steps outside the house, feeling the protective barriers leave them. It was rare for both of them to go outside ever since arriving back in England, and when they did, it was for an extremely short time, so Draco was, most of the time, protected by the thousand year old family spells that protected this place.
That day, however, they would not only be leaving the house, they would be entering an extremely well-known place that was bound to be filled by people, which made Regulus anxious.
He knew he couldn’t keep Draco hidden forever. Both Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort would never allow it, and, worst of all, Regulus knew Draco's own fate wouldn’t allow it either. Still, he didn’t like it. Not only because it was a danger to Draco, but also because Regulus was technically a criminal on the run, believed to be dead by most.
It was no secret he had been a Death Eater, and if he was found alive, he’d be getting a one-way ticket to Azkaban. And he couldn’t protect Draco from there, so that wasn’t an option.
Which was why he had modified his face temporarily with magic, earning him an estranged look from a weirded out Draco.
— It’s always so weird when you do that.
Regulus chuckled, amused.
— Trust me, it’s even weirder for me. Are you ready? — He asked Draco, and the boy nodded with a serious expression, holding Regulus’ hand firmly in his smaller one.
Regulus apparated them away.
* * *
Draco wasn't surprised by the looks he received when he and Regulus entered the Leaky Cauldron. The Boy-Who-Lived whispers and amazed expressions were new but not unexpected. His father had explained everything about who he was and what he stood for a long time ago. Draco had understood the weight of his name before he could even talk.
So he kept his head up, even when the eyes on him made him uncomfortable. Regulus cut off all people's attempts to speak to him, and they quickly headed towards what Draco concluded was the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Regulus tapped the wall three times with the tip of his wand. The brick it touched shook, then twisted. A small hole appeared in the middle, which got wider and wider. A second later they found themselves in front of a rather large arch, an arch that opened onto a street of uneven cobblestones. Regulus looked down and smiled at Draco's astonishment. They crossed the arch.
Draco took a quick peek over his shoulder and saw the arch instantly shrink into a solid wall. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to magic - he’d seen Reglus do countless spells before -, but it was still unfamiliar to see it be done out in the open.
The sun shone on a pile of cauldrons outside the nearest store. Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-stirring – Foldable, said a sign above.
— We can take a look at your wand and the robes you'll need for school first. — Said Regulus as the boy looked around, staring at the people and stores as excitement filled his expression. — There’s also some other materials.
It was all very new to Draco. Regulus had always been extremely firm in insisting that he needed to stay safe at home, so neither of them went out much.
In addition to the Black fortune that Regulus had, Draco had inherited what the man called an "empire" from his deceased parents. Not that he spent that money on anything - Reg always insisted that it was money he should save and that the Black money was more than enough for them both - but it did mean that neither of them had any problems buying everything Draco needed for Hogwarts.
Regulus had already paid a visit to the bank before they left France, so that he wouldn’t have to do so here, so they went straight to shopping.
They made a quick way of buying the requested materials for the classes before deciding to shop for a wand. Draco was nervous when entering the narrow and ugly store. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Craftsmen of Fine Wands since 382 BC. There was a single wand on a faded purple pillow in the dusty display case.
A little bell rang somewhere in the back of the store as they entered. It was a tiny little shop, empty except for two tall, narrow chairs in which Regulus chose one and sat down to wait. Draco had a strange feeling as if he had entered a very exclusive library; He swallowed a bunch of new questions that had just occurred to him and stared at the thousands of narrow boxes arranged carefully up to the ceiling. For some reason, he felt a shiver on the back of his neck. The very dust and silence there seemed to ring with a secret magic.
— Good afternoon. — Said a soft voice. Draco startled, but Regulus just sighed, shaking his head slightly as if exasperated, but not surprised.
There was an old man standing before them, his large, very clear eyes shining like two moons in the dim light of the store.
— Hello. — Greeted Draco in a low voice.
— Oh yes. — Said the man. — Yes, yes. I thought I would see you soon. Draco Malfoy. — His eyes went to Regulus narrowed with a small smirk. — And you... You were a surprise, I confess. No one has seen you in years.
Regulus didn’t seem surprised, nor threatened by the knowledge that this man was very much aware of Regulus’ identity, despite the charms.
— I was busy. — That's simply what Reg replied.
— Right. — His eyes returned to Draco, seemingly unimpress by Regulus’ secrets. Draco forced himself to look at him without shrinking. — I remember when your mother was here. It feels like yesterday. Nine inches long, rustling, dragon heartstring made of willow. A great wand for transfiguration — He murmured.
Mr Ollivander approached Draco, without blinking. He was mildly scary, but the boy didn't blink either, refusing to lose whatever this little staring game was about.
— Your father was different. Forty-five centimeters, one of the largest wands ever recorded. Made of unicorn fur and hawthorn. An extremely coveted wand among pureblood wizards. Not that it's on purpose, of course, the wand chooses the wizard.
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Draco's forehead with a long, white finger. The boy narrows his eyes but doesn't move. He sees Regulus tense from the corner of his eyes.
— I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did this.— He said softly. — Thirty-five centimeters. Wow. A powerful, very powerful wand in the wrong hands... Well, if I had known what the wand was going to go around doing...
He sighed and looked at Regulus.
— I remember yours too. Unicorn hair, twenty-six centimeters, made of cherry wood, slightly flexible. Very good wand.
— It still suits me very well. — Regulus agreed, nodding.
— Well, Mr Malfoy, let's go. Which arm is it? — Draco extends his left arm.
He measured Draco from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around the head. As he measured, he said:
— Every Ollivander wand has a core made of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Malfoy. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are alike, just as no unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are alike. And of course, you will never achieve such good results with another wizard's wand.
Draco nodded, despite already being aware of all of this. Regulus asked Draco before accepting the invitation to Hogwarts whether or not he wanted to go, and he made sure that the boy knew everything about the life he was choosing if he said yes, including the smallest details.
Mr. Ollivander walked quickly around the shelves, pulling down boxes, letting the measuring tape move by itself.
— That's enough. — He spoke, and the measuring tape loosened and fell in a heap on the floor. — Okay then, Mr. Malfoy. Try this one. Beech and dragon heartstring. Eight inches. Good and flexible. Take it and try it.
Draco picked up the wand and made a few movements with it, but Mr. Ollivander took it from his hand almost immediately.
— Maple and phoenix feather. Four inches. Very stretchy. Try it.
Draco tried it – but he had barely raised the wand when, once again, Mr. Ollivander took it from his hand.
— No, no. Here, ebony and unicorn hair, nine inches, flexible. Come on, come on, try it.
Draco tried it. And tried it. The pile of tried-and-tested wands was getting bigger and bigger on the unoccupied tall, narrow chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander took from the shelves, the happier he seemed to be. Draco looks at Regulus, but his father didn't seem nervous, only giving a small smile, so he remained calm.
— Tough customer, huh? Don't worry, we'll find the perfect wand for you somewhere, I'm in doubt, now... it's, why not?, an unusual combination, beech and phoenix feather, twenty-four centimeters, good and malleable. — Draco took the wand.
He felt a sudden heat in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it down, cutting through the dusty air with a whir, and a torrent of silver and green sparks shot from the tip like a firework, shooting bright sparks that danced across the walls. He gave a slight smile and Mr. Ollivander exclaimed:
— Bravo! Really, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... very curious...
— What's curious, sir? — Draco questioned as Ollivander replaced the wand in the box and wrapped it in brown paper.
— I remember every wand I sold, Mr. Malfoy. Every single one. It turns out that the phoenix whose feather is in your wand produced one more feather, just one more. It is very curious that you were destined for this wand because her sister, why, her sister produced your scar.
— Enough, Ollivander. You're scaring him. — Regulus muttered.
— Ah, pardon, pardon!
Regulus paid seven galleons for the wand. Before leaving, he shook hands with Olivander, whose eyes turned glossy for only a moment before bidding them goodbye. They left the establishment, the bell above the door jingling, and Draco looked up at his father.
— Why weren’t you worried? He knew who you were!
Regulus looked down at him and smirked.
— I'm a very good legilimens, Draco.
Draco thought back to Olivander’s glossy eyes as they left and his own silver ones widened as he stared up at his dad, who’s own smirk widened to an amused grin.
— You mean you…
Regulus simply winked.
— Let's go buy your uniform soon. — Said Regulus, quickly changing the subject and nodding towards Madame Malkin's store. Have decided to let his father's terrifying abilities go for now and looked towards where he was pointing – Clothes for All Occasions. — I'll take a look around while you get fitted.
Draco nodded and opened the store door, listening to the bell that announced his arrival. Madam Malkin was a short, fat and pretty, smiling witch, dressed all in lilac.
— Hogwarts, dear? — She asked and Draco nodded. — I have everything here. To tell you the truth, there's another little boy right now adjusting an outfit.
In the back of the store, a boy with messy curly hair and round glasses covering his green eyes, was standing on a stool while a second witch shortened his long black robes. Madam Malkin placed Draco on a stool next to another, slipped a long robe over his head, and began timing the hem.
They were silent for long moments before Draco figured out what to say.
— Hello. — Draco greeted, secretly nervous. He had never been in much contact with other children, so he didn't really know how to act. Regulus had trained him in case he encountered a powerful wizard, but not an eleven-year-old child like him.
— Hey. — The boy said, offering a slight smile. — Hogwarts too?
Draco nodded.
— One of my godparents works there, so I've been there a few times. You'll like it! — Commented the boy. — I'm Harry Potter, by the way.
— Draco Malfoy.
Harry's eyes widened. — You're the Boy-Who-Lived! — Draco shrugged. — You're lying!
— It's not a lie. — Draco grumbled, lifting the hair from his forehead and exposing the scar. — See?
Harry raised his eyebrows. — It's a strange scar.
Draco felt his cheeks heat up. He knew his scar was unusual, but it wasn't strange. Was it?
— Your... Your glasses are weird. — replied Draco.
— Hey! My glasses aren't weird!
— Yes they are. — Said the blonde. He didn't think the glasses were weird, but Harry called his scar weird and now his pride was hurt. — They're round and too big.
Harry widened his eyes, blushing. — Your scar is lightning! You're weirder!
Draco didn't know exactly why they were discussing this, he didn't used to be so… childish like this. But it was mildly amusing to see Harry get nervous, and he had to suppress an amused smile. From Harry's expression, the boy was facing the same situation.
Harry snorted and looked away when Draco didn't respond. They remained silent for a few more moments.
— Which house do you think you're going to? — He mumbled, as if he didn't want to ask, but was too curious to help himself.
— I don't know. You?
— Gryffindor, probably. — Harry said with a slight smile. — My parents were from there, my godparents too.
— If it's about that, then I might end up in Slytherin.
Harry gave a slight crooked smile.
— We'll be rivals then.
Draco found himself wearing a similar expression.
— I suppose so.
— Ready? — The woman said to Harry, handing him his robes. The boy looked at the window, and Draco saw a red-haired woman waving from outside.
Was that Harry’s mother? He didn’t look much like her… except maybe for their eyes. Her hair was a flaming shade of auburn, the strands reaching down to her chest. Her skin was much lighter than Harry’s, that was more on the brown side, and decorated with freckles. Her eyes, that tied her to her son, were the same shade of emerald, almost like a real gemstone.
She was pretty, though Draco presumed Harry got most of his looks from his father.
— Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, Malfoy. — Harry told him with a grin.
— See you later, Potter.
Draco watched Harry leave the store, meeting his mother outside and getting a kiss on the forehead from her. Another woman joined them, this one with curly hair and darker skin. The three of them walked away together with matching smiles as they walked amongst themselves.
Draco stayed just a minute longer until Madam Malkins finished with him as well. He got off the stool and left the store, finding Regulus leaning just outside.
He looked pale, and Draco immediately sensed something was wrong. His father looked almost like he had seen a ghost.
— Father? — Draco murmured, and Regulus' gaze met his. He smiled, but as good as he was at hiding his own feelings, Draco had learned from him and, therefore, knew all is tells. — What’s wrong?
Regulus sighed, and for a few moments he did not answer. Then, he looked at something behind Draco, and the boy followed his gaze, finding Harry at a certain distance, next to the two women. They were outside a quidditch equipment shop.
— That boy… What is his name?
Draco frowned, confused as to why his father was asking him about hat, but answered nonetheless. — Harry Potter. Why?
— Ah… — Regulus almost looked sick, and Draco reached over to hold his hand.
— Father? Are you alright?
— Yes. — Regulus closed his eyes and shook his head, almost as if to clear his own thoughts. He smiled down at Draco, and while weak, it was an honest one. — I just knew his father, long ago. Nothing to worry about.
Draco didn’t know much about his father’s past. Regulus didn’t like talking about it, so Draco had never inquired for much other than the basics. He was curious, but Regulus was already way too pale and he didn't want to make it worse.
— Alright… should we go? — Drac asked, squeezing Regulus’ hand in reassurance. He was pleased to see it did seem to make Regulus lose some tension.
— Soon. Just one more thing.
Draco kept holding Regulus' hand as the two set off down Diagon Alley. They stopped before leaving at the Owl Emporium, since, according to Reg, Draco needed a frequent means of communication when he left for Hogwarts.
He chose a gray owl with big yellow eyes. He named her Stella.