black holes.
Draco Malfoy knew how to hide.
His whole life he had hidden joy, smiles and tears behind a wall of stone hard faces, some smirking, some just blank.
Pansy once called those faces masks, but that’s not it. Draco is not sure he can tell them from his true face anymore. Also, he’s not in some theatre. This is real. Too fucking real.
His mother was worried about him, he knew that. He didn’t know why though; he wasn’t behaving like… he just wasn’t behaving. He was just there, like a shadow or a ghost or something. Just something.
It was the beginning of the summer holidays, and he knew something would change. There was something different about the manor, although he didn’t know what. The change hadn’t happened completely yet, it was only just beginning.
He went to his room and began unpacking his suitcase. His mother had followed him upstairs, now she was standing in the doorframe, not quite leaning against it, but definitely more comfortable than she was at kings cross. She had been at the station when the Hogwarts express arrived, for the first time since he came home from his first year.
“We should spend more time together.”, she had said, taking his suitcase.
Draco had felt ill. That sounded as if they haven’t had much time left to spend.
“How was your stay?”
She always said stay, and Draco appreciated it. Other kids talked about Hogwarts like it was their home, with their house as their family. Well, Potter did. He assumed his friends just copied him. He still had a place to come home to. Although it didn’t really feel like home anymore. But his mother tried to keep up the picture of a perfect family with a grand manor and Draco didn’t want her to stop. He enjoyed it as long as he could. There was something coming. A war or at least a battle. He would pretend to ignore it until someone actually threw a curse at him. He would.
“It was good.”
His mother already knew about Potter’s little club, she also knew what role he played in catching them. And she knew about what happened in the ministry, because who didn’t? Voldemort was back, Sirius Black dead. His mother knew Black, at least he suspected that. She didn’t talk about him, never had and would probably take the memories they made together into her grave.
“Draco, let the unpacking to the house elves. I’ve got something to show you.”
Draco looked up. Of course there was something she wanted from him. It was always like this. First small talk and mild interest in his life, only then she got up the courage to ask him something.
Not that it bothered him. It was just awkward.
He followed her into the dining hall. With his father in Azkaban, the house seemed empty, sad. His mother had told him stories about the souls of houses, how the manor would become depressed if a Malfoy went ill or died. Lucius Malfoy was neither ill nor dead, but the floorboards made sorrowful noises, nevertheless.
Draco was taken by surprise when he saw a girl sitting at the long table. Usually, his father would try to talk him into engagement with some girl, never his mother.
“Hi!” The girl stood up, as soon as she saw them come in.
She wore muggle clothes, and her hair had a blueish color, as did her eyebrows.
Weird.
His father would never approve. Where did his mother get this girl from?
The girl must have noticed his baffled face, because she took a step forward, approaching him like someone would approach a stray cat.
If he were a stray cat, he wouldn’t know whether to back away or scratch her face.
She laughed. “Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself… I’m Tabitha.”
He wondered whether he should know her.
“Okay.”
She sighed. “Tabitha Nott.”
That caught his attention. “Nott?”
“Yea, you’re friends with my brother, right?”
His mother coughed lightly. “Why don’t you two go upstairs?” Tabitha smiled at her and nodded. “You wanna show me your room?”
Draco never had a girl in his room. It never occurred to him that the first girl stepping foot in his room would be a stranger.
“Who are you?”
He demanded as soon he closed the door behind him.
“Tabitha Nott.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Theo doesn’t have a sister. He would’ve told me.”
“He never tells anyone.”
“Assuming you are his sister- “
“I am!”
“Why haven’t I seen you at Hogwarts? You were never at dinner parties or galas, so where have you been?”
“I was at Hogwarts. They kicked me out.”
Draco raised his eyebrow.
“That can’t be.”
She shrugged.
“Dumbledore doesn’t just kick students out. Even the one student who was a threat to everyone else still lives on the grounds!”
“Dumbledore didn’t kick me out.”
“Then who did?”
“My father.” She grinned. “Funny story, actually. I got my letter three years before you, got sorted into hufflepuff and went all punk. Father hated that I would drag the family name through the mud. Then, he found out that I am … well…” she trailed off.
“What.” Draco frowned.
“That you are what?”
“I can’t say. Not yet, anyway. Look, your mother sent for me for a reason, but I can’t just hand out pamphlets and business cards, I must know if we can trust you.”
Draco decided not to ask. This was too much weirdness in one day. And he had seen some shit.
“Draco, do you know why I’m here?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Usually, I would have you take an unbreakable to not tell anyone but I trust Narcissa, so we’re just doing it the easy way.”
She stepped closer. She came so close to his ear that he could feel her breath against his chin. She smelled of bubblegum. Disgusting.
“You’re gay, right?”
Draco backed away so quickly that he himself could see how suspicious he was behaving.
He took a second to sort himself out, then he said with a steady voice:
“Pardon?”
The girl didn’t seem impressed.
“Your mother found a magazine in your room. That’s usually how they find out.”
Fuck.
It was true - he had a magazine in his drawer, but it was hidden underneath his robes, where no one ever looked, not even the house elves. And besides, that hardly made him gay. Male underwear models had some effect on him, but that was just a phase, he was confused, nothing more.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tabitha seemed bored and for some strange reason, he didn’t like that. He never liked to be just one in the crowd. He could tell that Tabitha had had this exact conversation with someone else and that left him wondering whether he wasn’t alone with his, well, feelings. It also made him wonder if he was just like everyone else or at least like the others Tabitha was talking to. He didn’t like to be boring.
“Look, your mother worries about you. She knows you’re probably not into girls, or at least not like it’s expected from you. She also knows that your father and basically the whole death eater cult are against anything ‘abnormal’.” She made a disgusted face. “I don’t think you are abnormal. And so does your mother. Or, at least she doesn’t want you to suffer because of your sexual orientation. So she sent for me.” Tabitha grinned. “I’m here to make your life a bit less miserable! I have built a secret community of queer and anti-death eater death eaters! We help you wherever we can.”
She gave him a pamphlet.
Draco looked at it.
He handed it back. Panicked.
“I can’t accept this.”, he said. He knew that wasn’t exactly the right answer but what does one say when given a pamphlet with the dark mark in rainbow colors and the words “WE’RE HERE TO HAVE THE TALK WITH YOU. (We also have a bookclub and secret meetings where we talk about overthrowing the system.) (sign up for our newsletter to get exclusive information about our upcoming events.)”?
Tabitha shrugged.
“We don’t want to force you into anything. I mean, we’re not the dark lord, right?” She laughed softly.
“I guess you’ll have to think about it. Just remember, if you need anything, you’re always welcome to contact me. I’m here to help you.” She went to his door. “I know the way out.”
And she was gone.
Draco blinked. Did he really just witness that?
There was an organization within the death eater’s ranks, which helped queers to get along?
Oh, he would get rewarded until his death if he told his father.
But as soon as he thought that, he knew that he wouldn’t. Not only would his mother get into trouble. No, Tabitha had the magazine on him.
And there was also the thing about someone wanting to help him without expecting any consideration.
Also, maybe he really needed to think about the things Tabitha had said.
Maybe.
But that didn’t make him gay.
Okay, maybe Draco was gay. How would he know? But maybe he just didn’t like breasts that much, he could still be into girls with small ones. Masculine girls. There was this one Slytherin student, a shy and handsome girl, he guessed, every other boy went mad over her because of her slim legs and flat chest. He didn’t though.
Pansy said the girl probably had anorexia and the boys fetishized that. Draco didn’t know much about eating disorders, but Pansy seemed right about mostly everything having to do with mental health.
She wanted to become a therapist, despite every joke Blaise made about cool, ignorant Pansy talking people out of the want to die.
Draco liked her ambition. He had asked her about anorexia then, and she held a whole speech about the disorder and why Dumbledore was a dipshit for ignoring the girl’s need for help.
Draco had nodded along and never allowed himself again to stare at the girl.
So, maybe that wasn’t the best way to find out his sexuality.
All the Gryffindors and half Slytherin assumed Pansy and he were a thing but that was just ridiculous.
Pansy knew him practically since birth. How could someone who’d seen you fall over your own feet as a toddler be your partner? It seemed weird to him.
Also, Pansy was in love with Blaise.
She had cried to him about their nonexistent relationship during the whole fourth year, while Draco had patted her back, summoned chocolate and stared at Potter’s arse. Which did not make him gay.
Potter just had such a funny way to walk. Draco had kept the papers where it showed the most. He sort of jumped in between his steps. Little jumps, not very noticeable, which was why Draco decided not to make fun of it in the end. But he still had the newspapers in his room somewhere.
He stood up. It was dark outside. He had been lying on his bed, in his pajamas, not able to fall asleep. Merlin. He was actually losing sleep over his sexuality. He was straight. He had to be. The meeting with the Nott girl seemed like a dream now, a fever dream, his room still looked the same and he still was the same, straight, perfect heir of the Malfoy family.
He found the newspapers. The first page already showed a picture of the chosen one.
That’s also what the title said. Chosen one. So, when he said it, it wasn’t okay but when Skeeter called Potter nicknames, he just went along with it?
Draco went back to bed, the newspaper still in his hand. Time for a bit of nostalgia.
Harry Potter looked up at him, smiling sheepishly.
Draco knew this smile by heart. Not that Potter ever smiled at him. But Weasley and Granger got more smiles from him than they could ever deserve (no one deserved that many smiles) and Draco couldn’t look away from Potter’s eyes when he smiled at his friends. Potter had dimples, probably from gifting people too many smiles, and they made him look older and younger at the same time.
He also had intense green eyes, and that wasn’t some discovery only Draco had made. Potter’s eyes were his signature, aside from the scar of course.
Harry Potter. With the greenest eyes.
Draco blinked. Picture-Potter’s mouth opened, just a little bit. He frowned at the camera, his thinking face was always the same.
Draco looked at the next picture. Ah, there it was. Potter’s funny walk. Although his ass did look nice in his shabby jeans. Not as good as in the quidditch gear, of course.
Draco’s stomach twisted. He suddenly felt ill. Why was he staring at a boy’s body like that? Potter’s body!
He got up and burned the newspaper in his fireplace. The last thing he spotted in the flames were green eyes looking up at him.
Draco woke up to the sound of mother crying.
Oh, how he resented this noise.
Draco got up, got ready and headed for the shower. Normally, he showered only in the evenings, but today the sleepless night stuck to his skin like sand from the beach.
Even in the shower he could hear his mother sobbing.
She never cried much until this year. But it was all a bit much right now, her husband in prison, her son probably going to get the dark mark soon.
Draco huffed. That was another thing he should be worried about. Joining the death eaters. The ceremony was already planned, but Draco couldn’t get himself to imagine what that meant. Maybe also because he didn’t like to think about it.
He shoved the thought of him becoming evil into the back of his mind. Fuck no, this wasn’t about him. He had to help his mother get back on track, and even then, he wouldn’t dare to think about himself. Doing that only brought him trouble. And strange girls into his bedroom. He headed into the reading room, where his mother awkwardly tried to look like she hadn’t been crying for the last forty-five minutes. "Good morning, mother. “
He smiled at her, hoping it would seem warm and trustworthy. He wasn’t good at this. His father should go fuck himself for leaving his family to themselves. Then again, it was nice that he needn’t to be cautious about his every step for once.
His mother sniffled and smiled. "Have you had breakfast already? “, she asked, knowing damn well he only came downstairs two minutes ago. But that was how they communicated, exchanging pleasantries, always polite, always cautious not to state the obvious, namely that they were truly and definitely fucked. Draco didn’t dislike this way of communicating per se, he grew up with it, but he wished it wouldn’t be that awkward. "No, have you? “
He tried to sound not too interested, but he hoped she wouldn’t decline. He did not need a breakfast together with his mother who thought he was gay. That kind of event screamed AWKWARD in large red letters.
"No, I’ve waited for you. “ She smiled lightly, as if it were nothing, as if this was just another normal morning with her beloved, not-disappointing son.
He was not-disappointing. He was straight after all. The house elves had already set the table when they stepped into the wintergarden. His father always insisted on having his breakfast in the dining hall, ignoring how large it was without guests or family and how ridiculous it felt, drinking tea in the biggest room of the house. His mother always ate in the wintergarden when he was away, which apparently included him being in prison as well. Draco liked it here much more too, the smaller, yet not small (it was the Malfoy Manor after all) room had high glass ceilings and a perfect view into the garden. Now, in the summer, the windows were open, and the wind brought the smell of lavender with it.
It was the loveliest room in the manor and the only room where he truly felt at ease.
Well, most of the time. Not now. His mother set down her teacup and smiled at him. "We’re having a gathering tomorrow night. “ Not one word about the Nott girl. Yet. "Tabitha promised to look in before that. To see how you are doing. “ Aha.
"Mother. “
She held up her hand. "Darling, don’t say anything. Maybe the two of you could become friends. I know she is older, but you are ahead of your year yourself, don’t you think? “
He wanted to shake his head like a lunatic, to close his eyes and just scream at her to stop worrying. Everything was fine. He was fine.
Except it wasn’t. And except he wasn’t. So, he nodded. Went along with it. Changed into his casual suit and waited for the Nott girl.
Great.
Tabitha Nott was half an hour too early.
She stood at his door, grinning apologetically. "Sorry. Didn’t want to spend more time at home.“
He nodded.
She went inside. Draco wondered how she got here. Only Malfoys could apparate onto the grounds and the gates would open to no-one unless they had the dark mark.
He glanced at Tabithas arms. She wore long sleeves.
„So, how is Hogwarts? “, she said over her shoulder as she went upstairs. She acted like she owned the manor, well, at least like she lived here. Then again, she knew where his room was, and she was heading directly there now. "It’s… well… it’s good, I suppose. “ What does one say about Hogwarts to someone who was denied their right to stay there?
She opened the door to his room and laughed.
"No need to look like that! “ "Like what? “ He sounded way more defensive than he had planned.
"Like you just made a joke about someone at their funeral. “ He scoffed. "That’s specific. Do you have experience? “
She nodded, with a face that he interpreted as, and it was funny. He looked at her. "No.“
"In my defense, everyone would’ve laughed if the circumstances were different. “
"You mean, if they were still alive. “
"Or… at least not freshly dead. “
"You’re brutal. Who was it? “
He sat down on his bed and gestured at the only other seating option, the chair at his desk. Tabitha flopped down on the floor.
She looked up at him. She seemed younger that way. Her forehead was wide and her eyes big and brown. The blue hair that curled all around her face looked a bit shabby, he suspected that came from dyeing it multiple times without using care products. Or spelling it healthy. There were spells. He used them himself three times a week. Now, that he thought about it… did Tabitha even have a wand? He didn’t see her using magic once. Was that why she didn’t go to Hogwarts for long? He knew from children who never had used a spell until their first lesson. But the Notts were an old family like his own, they probably taught their children a few spells the same day they got their wands. She couldn’t be a squib, right?
"It was Walburga Black. I was surrounded by dark magicians and the only thing that came out of my mouth was: My condolences, a really tragic death. I feel like I can still hear her screaming about bloodtraitors and mudbloods and ... yada yada.“
"You- You said yada yada?“
"Yes. The worst part was that I did had heard her. “
"The painting. “
Tabitha nodded, her face painted with horror and amusement.
Draco laughed.
"You did not!“
Tabitha grinned. Her face had lit up with joy as soon as Draco had started laughing. She looked prettier that way. Her forehead was even, without any frowns or guilty faces. She looked his age, maybe even younger, and happier. Draco hadn’t noticed until now about how worried she must have looked.
Tabitha looked around her.
“What do you do during holidays? It’s pretty boring out here in the countryside.”
“It is most certainly not!”
He stood up, indignantly. The manor was full of dark magic and the architect had made more than one bad lighting choice, but this was Draco’s home, more than that, it was his heritage, and the one thing he knew no one could destroy. The manor had stood for centuries, and he was prouder of it than he was about his bloodline. Of course, he never told anyone how important the manor was to him. He had made the experience that as soon he shared with anyone else how much something meant to him, it would be taken away. Potter may be thinking that he got everything he ever wanted but that was just show. His father never spoiled him, unless there was an audience. Malfoys never got. They took. And when they showed sentiment over the things they had, it was seen as a lack of discipline.
Still, he was eager to show Tabitha everything one could do during the holidays.
And so he did.
Harry Potter took the tube back home. Well, it wasn’t his home. Never felt like it anyway, but he still returned back to the Dursleys every summer and he was sick of telling himself that it wasn’t his home. Maybe he actually belonged there. They were the only family he had left after all, with Sirius gone.
With Sirius gone.
It felt so unreal.
He stared out of the window. Nothing to see there, they were driving through a tunnel. He almost wished the darkness of the underground would swallow him whole, he imagined the shadows of his soul creeping out of him, turning his body inside out until there was nothing left but one huge shadow. The darkness on the other side of the window then reached out and sucked him in, merging their shades of black into the blackest of black.
Well, that’s bullocks. He thought. I won’t turn into some kind of black hole, that’s just childish.
He kept repeating the thought as he exited the train and carried his suitcase up the street to the Dursley’s house.
Nope. Not turning into a black hole, not today.
It was beginning to sound like a mantra and before Harry knew it, he was humming a melody along with it. He didn’t know whether it soothed him or made him even more anxious.
Aunt Petunia spotted him from the kitchen window, her long neck slumping down a bit, as if the thought of him even being near her family made her head go heavy. Hedwig landed on his shoulder then, he had released her at the train station, so she could fly home herself. Aunt Petunia almost cried.
If I’m turning into a black hole, I will make sure to take them with me.
He grinned without much joy. But not today. Today he was tired enough from the drive home and the last days and nights. Losing sleep over grieve was exhausting and he was sure he could sleep right here and now, but then Aunt Petunia opened the door and waved him in.
“Come on in, boy, don’t make a scene by standing there.”
Harry sighed and carried his luggage inside.
It was like traveling back through time, like nothing had happened at all. The house looked still the same, only the photographs had been changed, Dudley having a light stubble on his chin, which made his baby face only look strange and ridiculous.
Harry wondered if Dudley was damned to look like a child for his entire life.
Then he wondered why he bothered.
He made his way up to his room, feeling as if he had entered an alternative reality. How could everything just go back to normal after all of this?
He slumped down on his bed, without taking off his shoes. The sheets smelled old and dusty. Petunia hadn’t changed them. Harry closed his eyes and let the sleep take over his exhausted body.
Harry woke up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and with a silent scream on his lips.
He sat up, somewhere outside a baby cried. Hedwig was sleeping in her cage, her head tucked under her wing, her feathers shimmering in the moonlight.
Harry stood up and changed into his pajamas, not bothering to brush his teeth or wash himself. His mouth tasted weird, and he realized only now that he had bit the inside of his cheek while sleeping. Hedwig shuffled in her cage, waking up, she lifted her head and blinked at him. Harry waved at her. Hedwig ruffled her feathers, she obviously was uncomfortable in her small cage, but Harry couldn’t let her out, not now, when everyone was sleeping. Especially Aunt Petunia had a very light sleep, and she was ready to take every disturbance as a reason to punish him. Honestly, Harry couldn’t blame her. Uncle Vernon snored like an old motorbike; Petunia could count herself lucky to get any sleep.
“Sorry, Hedwig.”, he whispered. “We don’t want to tickle the sleeping dragon.”
Hedwig looked at him with sleepy eyes that said since when do we care about getting into danger, hm? Harry laughed without a noise. “I’m actually pretty eager to not lose breakfast privileges just now.” Hedwig shook her head lightly. You have problems…
Harry grinned and lay down again. He always felt better after a one-sided talk with Hedwig. He closed his eyes, carefully not thinking about anything that had happened this year.
Outside the baby cried again, and Harry really wished he could express his feelings like that.
Instead, he pulled the old covers up to his chin and lay in silence, hoping the sleep would come to him soon, sucking him in like a black hole.