Shadows of the Legacy

The Ministry of Magic always had an oppressive atmosphere, not only because of its imposing dark marble architecture and ceilings so high that they seemed to merge with the firmament, but also because of the suffocating feeling that the corridors were full of shadows of the past, memories that refused to fade. Draco Malfoy, that albino man who despite his age still wore a mysterious and regretful youthful figure, had never felt completely comfortable there, not even now that his name was no longer synonymous with betrayal or war, but only the echo of an ancient lineage and a surname full of history.

He had spent years reconstructing his life, away from the public eye, immersed in alchemy and in the investigation of cursed artifacts. After his divorce, raising his son and all the events that marked his youth, he preferred the company of knowledge over that of society. He had no interest in the political dramas of the Ministry or in the endless struggle of the Auroras against the dark forces. However, that afternoon his presence had been required in the Department of Magic Security.

Draco impatiently adjusted the elegant black coat with emerald details, his wand rested in the inner pocket, and his expression reflected the skepticism with which he faced any government matter. It was not the first time that the Ministry asked for his help to authenticate and protect cursed objects, but something in the way they had asked him worried him.

He didn't have to wait long. The door opened firmly, showing the person He least expected to find there.

"Draco Malfoy."

The voice was deep, confident, tinged with a hint of fun and something else... nostalgia?

Draco turned abruptly and recognized the owner of that presence instantly.

Orion Graves.

He had changed, but not so much as not to be recognizable. His black hair remained short, but with an intentional disorder that gave him a rebellious air. His dark eyes, as intense as in his youth, were stuck in him with a sharp curiosity. He wore a black suit of impeccable cut, with an emerald tie that barely stood out between the lapels of his coat, like a small hint of a shared past.

Draco kept his composure, although his mind worked quickly to analyze the meaning of that encounter.

"Gaves," he replied in a neutral tone, trying to ignore the way Orion smiled sideways, with an expression he knew too well.

"Years have passed." Orion crossed his arms over his chest. How have you been?

Draco raised an eyebrow.

—I guess if the Ministry has summoned me, it's not for a alumni meeting.

Orion let out a brief laugh, barely bowing his head in a gesture of recognition.

"Sakably not." He advanced to the desk with a natural confidence, leaning on it as if he owned the place. We need your help with an artifact that was found during a raid. We think it's a variant of a cursed object that your family... well, that the Malfoys owned.

He paused, measuring his words. Draco noticed the immediate correction, the effort to unlink him from the weight of the surname. It wasn't something new.

He forced himself to keep his expression impassive.

—If you need my advice, I need to see the object.

Orion held his gaze for a moment before nodding.

"Follow me."

As they walked through the corridors of the Ministry, Draco noticed the way Orion watched him sideways. He feigned indifference, but the feeling of being analyzed so intensely was disturbing to him. Orion had always been an enigma, even when they were young in Slytherin, and that feeling of uncertainty had not changed.

They arrived at a room protected by strong protective spells. The temperature subtly dropped as they crossed the threshold, as if the magic contained in the place filtered into the air. In the center, on a black stone table, rested a small ring of aged metal.

Draco felt a chill run down his spine.

The piece seemed suspended in time, its surface obscured by a layer of ancestral rust, but it was its design that disturbed. The snakes carved into the metal seemed to move with the light, falling away and rebuilding in an eternal cycle. Something in that object evoked a magic impossible to understand, something that was strangely familiar to him...

He approached slowly, taking out his wand to inspect it.

"It's definitely similar to one my father owned," he murmured. But this... is different.

Orion, with his arms crossed, barely tilted his head.

"Different how?"

Draco didn't answer right away. His wand vibrated in his hand with a subtle energy, he exhaled, fixing his eyes on the ring.

"This one... is looking for its owner."

Orion frowned.

"Looking?"

Draco nodded.

"It's not a common cursed object. It is bewitched to bind with a bloodline.

Orion straightened up.

"So, it means that someone else in the Malfoy family owned him before."

Draco ran his fingertips over the edge of the table, without touching the ring directly.

—Probably an ancestor. I'll need more time to decipher it.

Orion smiled sideways.

"Then, I'll have to escort you to your laboratory."

Draco gave him a warning look.

"I'm perfectly capable of going alone."

Orion leaned slightly towards him.

—The Ministry does not want this object to reach the wrong hands. So you'll have to put up with my company a little longer.

Draco snorted with annoyance, but he didn't argue anymore. He turned to leave the room, but as soon as his eyes landed on the ring again, his vision flickered.

Suddenly, the light in the room became dimmer. An icy tingling ran through his hands. Draco felt his breathing speed up, took a step back, his mind trying to process what he was seeing. He blinked, and then he saw him.

Thin scarlet lines began to open in the skin of his hands, as if small invisible blades slowly tore him apart. It didn't hurt, but the blood flowed quickly, dripping on the dark stone. Draco felt his breathing speed up.

He took a step back, his mind trying to process what he was seeing. But as soon as he looked away and looked back...

His hands were intact.

A chill ran through him.

He inhaled slowly, trying to regain his composure. He wasn't going to show weakness in front of Orion.

"Draco?" Orion's voice took him out of his trance.

Draco turned to him coldly.

"Nothing." Let's go.

As they left the room, Draco knew something was wrong. He couldn't specify what, but the sensation clung to his mind like a persistent echo. What I had seen... what I had felt... something in it didn't fit. However, facing him now was a challenge for which he was not ready.

As they walked outside the Ministry, another restlessness began to grow inside. Orion was not only doing his job. There was something in the way he looked at him, in the way his smile was drawn naturally when Draco spoke, in the tone of his voice and the insistence with which he remained close.

And that worried him more than any cursed object.

During the following week, Orion made sure to be present in every analysis that Draco performed on the ring. He presented himself in his laboratory in Knockturn Alley with hot coffee in his hand, leaned on the table as if he had the right to be there and asked questions that Draco found unnecessary, sometimes even irritating.

"You're still just as obsessive about your work," Orion commented one day, watching him as he examined the inscriptions on the object.

"And you're still just as upset."

Orion laughed, a loud and carefree laugh, full of something that Draco wasn't sure he wanted to define.

"Come on, Malfoy." You can't say you haven't enjoyed my company.

Draco looked up and looked at him coldly.

"Why are you still here, Graves?"

Orion put his cup on the table and approached slowly.

"Because I'm not stupid," he said softly. And I know that there are things that we leave unfinished.

Draco felt his pulse speed up, just a heartbeat stronger than normal.

"That was years ago." We were children.

"Not so much," Orion tilted his head, his gaze intense. And I haven't forgotten.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment. Orion, after years of living together, had not only been one of his best friends, but also one of the few people in Slytherin with whom he had been able to be himself. But the war, the pressure of his family and fear had destroyed any possibility that they would continue to grow together. He hadn't felt ready then. Maybe he wasn't either now.

He had spent too much time rebuilding something he could call stability, only to see how his past reached him once again.

"Now I'm a different man," he whispered.

"Me too." Orion touched his shoulder gently, his fingers barely touching the fabric of his coat. But maybe, after all, we can still have a chance.

Draco didn't answer right away. He felt the warmth of Orion's hand on his shoulder, a tangible and real presence in the middle of everything uncertain. I wasn't ready for this. Not at all, but Orion Graves didn't seem willing to let him escape so easily.