Part One: Summer Secrets

Secret hallways and an odd camp haunt the dream of one.

The sting of betrayal and a grieving mother haunt another.

Death haunts them both.

Chapter One: Another Summer

Nightmares and dreams were part and parcel of being a demigod. Draco knew this intimately, but knowledge didn’t make waking up in a cold sweat any easier. Cedric’s glazed eyes haunted him at night, although it had been less often since he’d gone to camp. The children of Hypnos had helped Draco with that, just like they helped every demigod. But sometimes, when night was too cold or a shadow formed just right, or even just the flicker of green from the eternally burning Greek fire caught his eye, he found himself back in the graveyard.

Voldemort’s deformed figure loomed over him, or Harry, or Cedric, and the deadly streak of green lightning would stop their beating heart. Sometimes Draco would be frozen watching whichever boy had deigned to be the victim that night die over and over again, sometimes screaming and sometimes not. The times when they didn’t were the worst. Other times, Draco saw himself die through their perspective, throat raw from screaming. But the worst nights, far worse than any other, were the ones that had Draco whispering the killing spell, or grabbing Voldemort’s hand and joining his father– no, Lucius Malfoy.

Sometimes, he would see Camp Half-Blood lit up in flames, while he could do nothing but watch as Voldemort forced Draco’s family to do his bidding. He would use their abilities to destroy the only place Draco and many others called home, before using them to destroy Hogwarts and killing Draco’s friends.

Those nights, while rarer than the other nightmares, he would wake up in cold sweat, a scream on the tip of his tongue. He could never go back to sleep after that. Nights like these made Draco reconsider his decision to cut off his friends, but then he would remember Cedric’s cold eyes… it was for the best, he would tell himself. A small reassurance in the warm nights that felt too cold.

“Nightmare?” Draco turned to Piper and nodded silently. She gave him a small smile and scooted over in her bed. She patted the open space for him to sit. “Me too. Wanna talk about it?”

Draco rested his head on her shoulder wearily. From her bed he had a clear view of the rest of their siblings. Perks of being one of the Co-Counselors of the cabin, he supposed. Above them, Mitchell moved in his sleep, causing one of his many blankets to fall down on the floor with a quiet thud. Piper sighed, shaking her head in amusement, before quietly climbing up the ladder and covering Mitchell with his blanket again.

“Lou’s dad told me I would receive a formal invitation to Ilvermorny this week.” Piper hummed, but didn’t say anything. Draco appreciated it, he needed to get his thoughts in order without outside influence. Maybe Piper felt that because of their mum’s ability, or because she was his big sister and somehow all his older siblings seemed just to know when their siblings wanted to talk. Some kind of older sibling superpower. “And I am excited to go,” Draco continued. “I just… I feel guilty that I left Hogwarts with no explanation and… and that I have no intention of returning.”

Piper turned to him, holding his hands. “Hey, I won’t tell you to not feel guilty. You cannot control how you feel, and I can’t control your emotions,” he gave a silent chuckle at that, and Piper smiled, “But I can tell you that one day you will see them again. Maybe not as students. Maybe not for years. But you will see them again, Draco.”

“How can you be so sure?” His mind flashed to Voldemort’s rebirth. Cedric’s dead eyes. Lucius Malfoy’s marked arm. His friend’s parents with matching marks and expectations of their children to bear one too. “There’s… there’s a war coming to them. How can you be sure that—”

Draco choked. He couldn’t finish that sentence. It made everything seem… too real. Piper seemed to understand that, because she pulled him closer until he was wrapped in her arms, safe despite everything, because in that moment Draco knew that his sister would never let anything happen to him.

***

Months ago, Draco would have proudly said that he and his parents had never had any big arguments that caused them to avoid each other. But that was months ago, and now, like so much else, that was no longer true. If Lucius ever tried to contact him, Draco would happily point him out to the rest of camp and watch as they absolutely destroyed him. Apparently, Camp Half-Blood had a list dedicated to mortals who’d hurt a camper so badly that they were considered an on-sight target. As for Mother, though… Draco could admit that he’d been avoiding her.

After their loud argument in Sally’s apartment about Lucius, Draco had not seen his mother once other than when he couldn’t avoid it: when they were viewing their new apartment, and when they were officially moving in. Even then, tension had been high, and Draco had brought Lou as support. Mother had pursed her lips at the sight of her but said nothing about it. Not once did they speak to one another during the entire viewing process, except for the final decision of which place they would be staying at.

Draco had not wanted either Black residence his mother had offered, something Draco knew she disagreed with, but he could give her credit for not fighting against his decision. It seemed that she understood why he didn’t want to live there: it reminded him too much of Malfoy Manor, and that reminded him too much of Lucius.

In the end, they agreed on one of the ensuite apartments that Lou’s father had shown her. The best part about it was that it was a decent distance from camp. He would never be too far away from his other home, and that brought him a sense of calm. And it appeased Mother’s want to be hidden away from no-majs. The apartment belonged to one of the hidden magical neighbourhoods in New York, which meant they could do magic whenever they wanted without the risk of no-majs seeing them.

Or rather, Mother could do magic whenever she wanted. Draco… found himself using less and less magic to solve problems, or to do most household chores on the very very rare occasions he was in the apartment. (Usually, Mother was not there when he was.) He found himself finding solutions the no-maj or demigod way. If he wanted to wear one of his favourite shirts in a different colour? He no longer reached for his wand and cast a spell that would eventually fade away, instead he would use his inherited ability as a son of Aphrodite and change the colour for as long as he wanted. Or when he accidentally dropped his glass of water and spilled it everywhere, Draco found himself cleaning it up with paper towels or rags, and by the time he remembered that there was a spell for that, he would be putting the rags to wash or throwing the towels away.

(Once, he had forgotten about reparo entirely until he cut himself halfway through picking up the shattered pieces of glass. It had caused him to pause, to finally process what was happening, and he found that he did not care. It was a revelation and then he moved on, casting the spell and bandaging the cut. It was small, there was no need for magic.)

He was not worried about it, this was normal at camp. Most demigods did not use magic (the Mist was something else entirely, according to Lady Hecate’s children). The ones who did were mainly children of Hecate, and the magic they used was their mother’s. Godly magic and mortal magic were very different, they could do anything without the need of wands or specific spells. Mortal magic was not like that. They needed spells to do specific things and Draco had never realised how limiting that was until he saw Lou and her siblings do a mock-battle with their own magic. It had been eye-opening.

That was another thing that made things tense between him and his mother. While Draco and the campers, Hecate children included—even the ones who had magical mortals for parents—found nothing wrong with his decreasing use of his mortal magic, Mother disagreed. She was worried, and afraid that he was forgetting his roots.

It had caused their second biggest argument (second, because the topic of Lucius would always be something they disagreed about) to date.

“Draco, where is your wand?” Mother had asked, in one of Draco's rare visits where she was also in their new home. They were still settling in, or rather, Mother was still settling in because Draco would be living in Ilvermorny once school began again. “Wouldn’t it be easier to make your bed with it?”

He had been putting the final touches to his room, despite not sleeping in it since they moved in. But Draco still had hope that maybe next summer the tension between them would lessen or be gone completely and he would feel more comfortable visiting. Maybe even staying nights. This room was much smaller than the one in Malfoy Manor, but Draco didn’t care. He’d become used to sharing his sleeping area with all his siblings, and just having his own room was an improvement to that.

“My wand?” Draco frowned, checking his pockets. He found that he had not brought his wand with him. Again. It had become easier and easier to forget an item that he’d once never let be out of his sight. “I must have left it in my trunk again. My siblings know not to touch it though. Not after Valentina accidently turned the cabin vomit green because she was curious.” Draco huffed at the memory. Jenna and Mark had run to him screaming to fix it because the colour was burning everyone’s eyes.

“You… left it in your trunk.”

Draco had turned to her, confused. “Yeah? I know I could have finished my bed quicker, but I honestly forgot that I could use a spell for that. So I just made it myself.”

Mother’s eyes were unreadable, but Draco could sense the confusion, worry and… fear? Underneath. He could not understand it. He’d just forgotten his wand. He did not understand what was the big deal and said as much. Unfortunately, it seemed that that was the wrong thing to say because Mother’s face twisted into a deep frown and disapproval leaked out of her.

“Draco, from now on I want you to spend more time here than at camp. And you will bring your wand. Anything you need to do, I want you to do it with a spell.”

What? Draco blinked, baffled. Shouldn’t a punishment be banning magic?

“Mother?”

“You are forgetting your roots. You are a wizard, there is no need to do things the Muggle way.”

“Mother, I’m a demigod. Most demigods do not use magic. I just got used to it.” He shrugged, still not quite understanding what the big deal was.

Mother frowned and shook her head. “No. I want you to use your magic. You have spent too much time there if you have forgotten that magic makes your life easier. What about Blackstone? Surely she uses magic.”

Draco gave her an odd look. “No? Mortal magic is very different. Very limiting. They use the godly magic they inherited from their mother.” He shrugged, “We still practise, but it is more of them making sure I can do both nonverbal and wandless magic of the spells I already know. And only when we have the time… or remember.”

“Draco, you are a wizard. How can you go without magic?”

He shrugged, “It’s not that bad. No-majs can do it, so why can’t I? Demigods have been living without magic and just their godly abilities since the first demigod was sired. I don’t see why I should be any different.”

Mother’s frown deepened and she stepped towards him. Draco eyed her, still confused. “Draco… I know I brought you here to be safe and learn about your godly heritage, but you are forgetting your roots.” Draco frowned, he did not think he was. He still practised magic, it was just no longer his go-to method like it once was. Why use spells when he could use his mum’s ability or fix it himself? “I want you to stay here. Go to camp on the weekends, but stay here in the apartment and use magic. Use this time to catch up with Ilvernmorny’s curriculum. I thought Blackstone would be enough to make sure you would not forget, but I was wrong.”

“Mother—”

“Maybe staying here permanently was a bad idea. I think I was too quick in my decision to keep you away from Hogwarts, but it is too late. Maybe it would be best if we return to London, surely I can talk some sense into Lucius and—”

“No!” Draco pried himself from Mother’s hold. He backed away from her, the feeling of betrayal in the air was suffocating. “I will not return to the manor. Lucius is not my father, he stopped being that the moment he chose Voldemort.”

“Draco—”

“If you want to return to Malfoy Manor, do it.” He spat the words, no matter how much they hurt to say. “I won’t. I will graduate from Ilvermorny. From there, I will decide what to do. Not you. Not Lucius. I am more than a wizard, more than someone who depends on magic for everything. I am not a mortal like you. I am a demigod and I will live like one.”

He was out the door before she could do or say anything. Had he stayed longer, maybe Draco would have seen the effect the words had on her. As it was, he only felt them briefly as he left.

***

Draco had not seen his mother since. He knew she’d tried contacting camp, as Chiron had informed him, but Draco never responded. Of course, his siblings and friends noticed, but they never pushed. He was grateful. 

Draco focused on his training and spending time with his friends and siblings, and the days became a blur of activity. Occasionally, he left camp as a break from Camp Half-Blood and training, and saw more of the no-maj world. On one memorable excursion, he went to the mall with his siblings for the first time and finally got a hand in using his more clothes related powers.

Piper had been right. Draco had been so used to using a conduit for magic that he’d unconsciously translated that to his demigod powers. He was slowly working through it, though, and now he didn’t need to put on an outfit to adjust it as needed. Drew was sure that the more he did it, the more instinctual it would become, until he would no longer need to even think about using his demigod powers, much less touch his clothing. He hadn’t realised just how much mortal magic had affected his godly abilities until he stopped using it as a first response to anything.

Eventually his mother, Lucius, Cedric, Harry and Voldemort got pushed farther back into his mind as the days passed.

After all, there were bigger things to worry about. Like iris-messaging not working, or Dare suddenly no longer feeling the spirit of Delphi within her. Draco saw the worry of the other campers and briefly wondered if another war was brewing. If a war was coming, would this one take priority over the one Voldemort was bringing to the Wizarding World? Would he decide to fight alongside the demigods and ignore the looming threat coming to the world he was raised in? Should he?

Draco never thought much about the hypotheticals, afraid of what his answer would be. Afraid that maybe Mother was right and that he was forgetting his roots. So he continued on as normal, and so did everyone around him. Maybe if it was ignored for long enough, the odd things happening around them would solve itself. So he trained and laughed and played games, but no matter what, there lingered a looming fear and apprehension of something coming.

And then, the something came. Stumbling and lost, a mortalized Apollo arrived at Camp Half-Blood with an unclaimed demigod exactly two weeks after Draco’s fight with Mother. Suddenly, summer became a lot more interesting and Draco could not stop himself from laughing as a baffled Will approached his now mortal father.

It seemed that his second summer would be much more interesting than his first.