Broomsticks and Brawls
“I'm not sure anything is coming back from that.”
“Sorry, mate. Her insides are all…outside-y.”
“I told you to veer, not DIVE!”
Nott, Goyle, and Zabini looked up at Draco and Longbottom, the latter pair having their wands out, pointing at the remains on the ground. Longbottom’s large calloused hand patted Draco on the shoulder as he turned towards the trio still in the air.
“I tried every charm I know. I'm sorry, Malfoy.” He grimaced. Draco was sure the pain on Longbottom's face matched the jagged feeling in Draco's chest.
“Just…give me some space. I should have taken the hit…” Draco's stomach clenched again. Goyle was barreling towards him, his squash face was in a hard line. Perhaps teasing him about flying had been in poor taste. Draco assumed he was out to prove a point because Goyle did not pull his broomstick up. Draco could tell the moment Greg Goyle decided to stop being a wuss. Unfortunately, it was also when Draco called his longest friend’s bluff.
“Fuck, I loved that broom.” Draco stared down at the splintered remains of his Firebolt.
“Okay then, no need to get teary. I'm sure the Quality Quidditch Supplies catalogue will have Firebolts ready to ship!” Theo came up behind him as he vanished the fragments of his broom. Draco sighed. He was tired of ordering through the post, of hiding out in Wiltshire or Theo’s manor. He could only stare at the brocade walls for so long before he was as batty as Riddle. Seven years was a long time to avoid the world and Draco was sick of only making highly publicised appearances approved by Narcissa Malfoy. He knew his mother’s reasoning, it is a little hard to ruin a newly cultivated image if you’re never in the public eye without a script, but he was more than a reformed bad boy turned philanthropist. Wasn’t he?
Draco pushed his platinum fringe back, looked at the lads, and nodded.
“How about we have a go at Diagon Alley?”
✧✧✧
“Did Longbottom just break that bloke’s nose?” Draco could have sworn it was the Gryffindor but before he could give another look, a smaller fist was slamming into his cheek.
✧✧✧
Goyle and Zabini begged off the trip; Goyle because the stares always made his anxiety spike and Zabini’s excuse was cagey. However, Nott and Longbottom chose to accompany him into wizarding London. Draco was vibrating with energy, it had been a long while since he had actively disobeyed his mother, and even at 25, that disobedience gave him a thrill. He hoped this trip would be as uneventful as he had promised because if the Malfoy matriarch caught word– well Draco just prayed to Salazar that she would not. Many things had changed rapidly when Draco was released from Azkaban; house arrest was a challenge to adjust to. Going back to Hogwarts was also a change, the relationships formed and those destroyed. It was at Hogwarts where everything changed if Draco would acknowledge it. The one thing that would never change though, would be Narcissa Malfoy wanting her son to be a pillar of society. Draco thought his Mother lived with blinders on, the state of the world would dictate Draco was at the bottom of the pillar instead of the top, former Death Eater and all. Even if he did defect when it mattered the most and saved the weasel, it didn't matter.
Draco’s thoughts drifted back to that night and the silent protego he cast as Dolohov aimed at Potter's Weasley’s back. Draco had spent that harrowing night straddling both lines, keeping Hogwarts students safe while maintaining his father’s wishes and supporting the Dark Lord. He ensured all his curses were weak or schoolyard spells that would do no lasting harm. A sticking spell at Chang to keep her knelt on the ground as he aimed a well-placed confundus at Amacyus, distracting the death eater from finishing her. As Amacyus strode away, Draco inhaled a cloud of exploding castle dust and closed his eyes briefly upon opening them again, Draco had only a split second to register Dolohov behind Weasley on the stairs before he raised his hawthorne wand and instinctively cast the protego. Dolohov was momentarily immobile which was just long enough for Professor Flitwick to engage him in a duel. Chaos was all around him and yet Draco was steadfast in the purpose he chose himself; assist the Order members he could while saving as many innocent lives in the process. While not putting his parents in jeopardy. If he was stopped by a curse, so be it.
✧✧✧
It was mid-afternoon when the trio arrived in the rundown Leaky Cauldron. Draco’s nose wrinkled at the smell of old ale and body odour. The Leaky was not his favourite shop to give his patronage to, its dank appearance and penchant to let any and everyone in made Draco’s skin crawl. He much preferred Fortescue's and their minty ice cream or if he was peckish he would head to the little cafe nestled on the corner of Knockturn and Diagon. They were a reputable establishment that Malfoys could be seen giving their business to. Unfortunately, to get anywhere, every magical person started at the Leaky Cauldron. Draco shook his head. His reputation was already shite, it did not matter if he was seen in the Leaky.
Nott tapped the brick to the right of the rubbish bins and the three stepped into wizarding London.
“Where to, Boss? Quidditch Supply?” Nott shook his mop of curls out of his eyes and stared at him. Draco hated when Nott picked up on muggle terms but pointing out his displeasure would only encourage his mate. Knowing his friends also wanted to do some browsing, Draco was thankful that both seemed content to stay by his side. He was not scared to walk through the shops by himself, but he also knew that the magical community was small and they all had ample reason to hate him and his family. Narcissa had done everything she could with money. Donating to magical research for lycanthropy, adding a wing to St. Mungo’s, throwing dozens of galas at the manor anytime there was a whisper of an organisation needing donors. But Draco had finally come to the realisation that money truly could not fix every problem. The Malfoy name did not mean as much as it once did and Draco laid that blame solely at Lucius Malfoy’s feet. His pride, quest for power, and cowardice had ruined too much. Some days Draco believed there was nothing to be done for their image. He tried to focus on the good he has done since but the dark emotions crept in on his thoughts too often.
“I, uh,” Draco cleared his throat, “Let’s head down the Alley and go from there?” He did not mean for it to come out as a question. Surprisingly though, it was Longbottom who took the lead. The two had been paired up for many projects in their final year of schooling and at some point the former Gryffindor had endeared himself to Draco.
“I have an order at the Mulpepper’s to pick up for a project, there first.” Longbottom gently steered them towards the Apothecary. His long strides were confident and Draco tried not to envy the man’s ability to adapt to any situation. Partly due to Pansy’s influence, but if he was being honest with himself, Draco had always had a grudging admiration for Neville Longbottom; ever since he launched himself at Crabbe and Goyle in the Quidditch stands their first year. And it only grew when he watched him stand against the Carrows time and again in 7th year and then pull a sword out of that damned hat and sliced the head off a giant snake. Draco chuckled to himself at the memory. It was rare that anything from those days made him smile, but Neville fucking Longbottom getting the best of Riddle would always be a moment of unguarded amusement for Draco.
“Why are your lips doing that weird thing?” The upward tilt of Draco’s lips immediately fell.
“Just enjoying the company.” his tone was bland as he stared Theo down. Theo grinned wider at him, never one to shirk away from Draco’s ‘allergy to happiness.’
“Come on, Nev is going to leave us and get a hard-on surrounded by all those rare plants if we leave him alone. They have a backroom and everything,” Theo’s face contorted as he shuddered. Draco rolled his eyes but followed Theo and Neville into Mulpepper’s Apothecary.
✧✧✧
The Apothecary was chilly, but it was nothing compared to the reception Draco received when he entered Madam Malkin’s for Theo to pick up an order of new robes. Two of the shopgirls nervously flitted around the counter to put distance between themselves and Draco, the curvier one calling Madam Malkin to the front. When the matron stepped out from the rack of fabric, her eyes narrowed in on the young men standing in an awkward huddle by the counter. Draco stepped backwards to keep the distance the girls desired. Her mouth curled into a sneer even Lucius Malfoy would have been impressed with and shooed the girls to the back of the shop. He assumed they were sent to the back to keep them away from the dangerous Death Eater, not that Draco could fault Madam Malkin, not with the way Theo was leering at the girls.
Draco could feel his stomach roil and clench at the abject fear on the younger girl’s round face but before he could excuse himself from the shop, Madam Malkin was shoving a grizzled finger into his chest.
“I have never turned down the Malfoy name, even when your father was dealing with…” Her nose wrinkled, “unsavoury company. I shall not do so now, but if you step one toe towards my girls, I will hex you and your own mother will not be able to identify your remains.” Neville’s eyebrows were in his hairline as Theo covered his mouth to let out an unconvincing cough. Who knew the old bag had it in her? She did not baulk as Draco stared her down and eventually, he gave a curt nod. He was not in the market of intentionally scaring women and did not plan to start now unless they said please first.
The rest of their time in the robe shop went smoothly, though the girls did not reappear until the bell above the door jingled as it closed behind Neville.
“Well, I think Madam Malkin is going to make an appearance in my dreams tonight. I like my partners feisty,” Theo made a low, sarcastic growl as Neville faked vomiting. “You don’t even like women, Nott. Stop being crass.” Draco swished his robes around him as he turned on his heel and headed towards Quidditch Supply. He did not plan to test his luck any further that day, if Madam Malkin was the worst he faced, he would count himself lucky.
The three men chatted amicably as they moved between other shoppers, some giving the trio a wide berth, some shooting nasty looks in their direction, but only one knocked their shoulder into Draco’s with a snarl. Draco turned to retort but was pulled away and distracted with ice cream at Florean’s. While the owner was another casualty of the war, Draco was selfishly grateful another member of the Fortescue family continued the business. Draco savoured every bit of the icy treats they offered and allowed the distraction. As the men each enjoyed their treats, something a few tables away caught Longbottom's eye and he waved at a small family, moving over to speak with them. The man and woman waved energetically as the child moved closer to his father to make room for the taller man, but Longbottom shook his head and gestured across to Nott and Draco.
Draco’s heart nearly stopped as he realised who Longbottom had gone to talk with. Even with several tables between them, Draco narrowed his eyes as Potter met his stare. The scar on his forehead had faded with age, but the branches of the lightning scar were clear enough if you knew where you were looking. The jagged edges of the scar reaching into his eyebrow, bisecting it. It was that scar that Draco knew made the girls in school pant after Potter in a ridiculous fashion. Pathetic really.
If that is Potter, that means…ah yes. Of course. Draco’s silver eyes traced the woman’s profile but it was not until the woman turned her head to smile down at the platinum blond child to her right. Draco felt his stomach drop like when he is swooping down to catch the snitch during a match. Hermione Granger had her curls pulled back in a sleek bun and was laughing at something the child had said. He was maybe seven or eight and Draco had to take a deep breath and close his eyes. What a sweet little family they made. Draco could feel his lips pull down into a frown against his will. He tried not to think about why his stomach was twisted into knots.
The boy chatted animatedly with the adults, waving his hands wildly at Neville upon his approach. Draco watched as Neville ruffled the boy’s hair and it transformed into a choppy brown cut just like the botanist’s. Draco’s grey eyes widened as he registered his first look at Teddy Lupin. His flesh and blood, cosy with Potter and Granger. He had meant to reach out to his Aunt Andromeda a few years ago, but by then she had moved into Potter’s halfway house for horrendous hoodlums or whatever other idiotic name the Saviour of the World came up with. Potter must have poisoned them against him because Andromeda had never reached out. Not that Draco had either, but wasn’t it the adult’s responsibility to maintain ties like that? Draco ignored the little voice that reminded him there were no ties to hold on to, just ones to create.
Ice cream dripped down Draco’s hand, pulling him from his thoughts. Draco vanished the mess with a lazy swish of his wand.
“What a waste of perfectly good magic,”
Returning his wand to his side pocket, he looked up just as Neville returned to their table. Misreading the situation, Neville calmly waved away Draco’s muttered insult at the ice cream.
“Not here, Mate. Not worth it, plus, I have news and I hope you will agree.” Longbottom’s face was crimson as he flashed a goofy grin and waved a hand towards the shop across the street from them. The iridescent sheen to the paint reminded Draco of a pearl necklace his mother sometimes wore, which seemed appropriate as they stood outside Fana’s Fine Forgings.
“Longbottom, I didn’t take you for a baubles kind of man,” Theo’s blue eyes searched Neville, but Draco broke into a genuine smile and slung an arm around Neville’s broad shoulders, jostling him a little. Nott stared at them in confusion, blue eyes jumping from one to the other.
“Zabini is going to owe me a favour, congratulations Neville. I assume Parkinson has already agreed, then?” Theo was still glancing between the two and their dopey smiles.
“What does Pansy have to do with Longbottom’s new penchant for jewell–” Theo’s eyes widened as he finally caught on to what Neville had not said. Theo let out a raucous whoop and launched himself at Neville.
“Death Eater scum! Your existence is a blight on wizarding kind. The Ministry should have put you down like a dog, as they did your father.”
“You should be rotting Azkaban, Malfoy!”
“Surprised you’re allowed off Mummy’s apron strings Malfoy.” Draco whipped around to face the three men, the smile sliding off his face into a cool mask of indifference, until he noticed Dennis Creevy in the middle of the pact of wizards. His arms and chest felt heavy, a cold wash of dread flooded Draco’s body. There weren’t many people alive that could evoke deep emotion from Draco, but as he stared at the younger Creevy brother, Draco remembered his older brother.
He had tried so hard to change the outcome of the Battle. He had played the role Snape gave him, but he had also flung out hexes and protection charms as stealthily as he could. He had tried to cast a shield charm in time, but Yaxley was quicker, why were they always quicker? The blinding green light that ended Colin’s life so easily still haunted him and staring into Dennis’ piercing stare, brought every harrowing moment of that night roaring back.
Draco could not speak as Dennis pulled his wand and pointed it directly at Draco’s chest. His eyes, so much like Colin’s, did not waver as he opened his mouth for a hex. Draco did not reach for his wand in return. Whatever Dennis was about to say, he knew he deserved it. If it was not for him, Colin would be alive. Draco closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
I really should have just used the catalogue.
“Come off it Dennis. Take your lads and go. No reason to start something here. Colin would not have wanted this.” Longbottom’s voice came from directly in front of him, opening his eyes slowly, Draco could only see his friend’s deep blue robes. He attempted to step to the side of Longbottom.
“Put your wand away Dennis. We are no longer 17 year olds.” Neville’s voice was stern as he moved in front of Draco again. The stupid lion.
“Yes, well. Some of us were lucky enough to make it past 17, weren’t we?” his voice was cold. Much colder than Draco could ever imagine coming from a Creevy. But then, the Creevy brothers were the type of Gryffindor that always irked Draco. They weren’t confident, but fully reckless. Was he really going to hex him in the middle of the street? Draco felt his temperature rising, of course, the little shit would and Draco would be damned if he was going to let a Gryffindor get the best of him.
“Move Neville. I never thought you would be running with the likes of them, but once a pureblood always a pureblood I guess. I’ll put my wand away, but I am not moving.” Draco snorted, was Creevy looking for a brawl like a muggle then? Draco wasn’t above getting his hands bloody, but really did not want to inflict more damage on the Creevy family. He had heard through his mother that Dennis had recently welcomed a child and Draco did not want to send him home with a broken nose. Sighing, he stepped out of Neville and Theo’s shadow, the latter coming up on his other side to flank him.
“Got anymore tattoos, Death Eater?” Smith snarled at him.
“Loads. Your mum’s name is on my arse, wanna see?” Draco smirked before turning to Dennis.
“One shot Creevy. I’ll give you one shot at me. Wand or fist, you choose. But if you take more, I get to retaliate.” He flashed the famous Malfoy sneer and stared down the lanky man. Creevy’s friends behind him flexing their muscles, he could tell they were itching for a fight because the moment Dennis stashed his wand, they shifted their weight forward. Draco nodded at Zacharias Smith recognising him in the group. Things happened quickly after that.
As the three men surrounding Dennis moved forward, so did Neville and Theo. They shared a look, a shrug, and moved in sync. Neville moved to intercept the larger two as Theo stepped into the path of the third. Dennis manoeuvred around them all and came at Draco with a look of fury that Draco could not fully feel, but could understand. He did not raise his hands and was momentarily distracted as Neville’s meaty fist slammed into the second man’s nose, blood spurting immediately.
“Did Longbottom just break that bloke’s nose?” Draco could have sworn it was the Gryffindor but before he could give another look, a smaller fist was slamming into his cheek.