change
After gently shutting the door to Draco's (Draco’s) room, Sirius took a moment to gather himself, his hand lingering on the handle as he took deep breaths.
He really hoped that his words and actions hadn't made a too bad of a first impression. The teenager was clearly frightened, probably in fact terrified, and Sirius wanted to believe that he had offered some comfort, rather than adding to Draco's stress.
As he stood there, he contemplated whether he should have stayed a bit longer. Maybe he should have done something different, like giving Draco a tour of the house or encouraging him to join them downstairs. But it was too late now. He had done what he thought was right - allowing the blond to acclimate to his new environment first, as he was clearly overwhelmed.
The black haired man couldn't help but compare Draco's situation to Harry's, even though they were undoubtedly different. It was all he had for reference. It took his godson a considerable amount of time to venture out of his room on his own, and even longer to feel comfortable navigating Grimmauld by himself.
He had to constantly remind himself that they had been through this before, that he was familiar with the foster care system, the endless stream of doctors, and the search for new sources of comfort. All they could do for Draco at the moment was let him know that they were there for him, without pushing him. Especially considering his nonverbal and vulnerable state.
Sirius recalled the advice of the first social worker who had visited them concerning Draco's case. "It may take him time to adjust to new surroundings, especially since it's challenging for children like him.” she had said. It brought a glimmer of hope to the man’s heavy heart. "Patience is key," he reminded himself, holding onto those words.
He made his way into the living room, only to find his fiancé and godson curled up on the couch. Harry was nestled against Remus, who was running his fingers through the teenager's unruly hair, some show playing in the tv in front of them.
When they noticed him, Remus turned his head and softly asked, "How is he?"
Sirius sighed, "I think as good as we could have expected."
His fiancé attempted to move, but Harry let out a grumble. "Come up, up, stand up," Remus urged, and Harry reluctantly complied. Then, the man turned to Sirius and asked, "Does he… Need anything? Have you asked?"
"Well, I did, but it’s not like he would answer. The social worker said that it’s normal, though, plus he understands everything pretty well, but it’s still a bit concerning," Sirius muttered, scratching his neck.
Remus walked around the couch and leaned against the back of it, next to his partner. "...Does he have a phone? If not, I have some spare notebooks in the study. Maybe it would be easier for him to write,"
After a beat, Sirius looked up at him and grinned. "You're a genius, Moony."
Rolling his eyes, Remus responded, "I'm aware of that," before leaning in to give his lover a soft kiss. Then, he turned his attention back to Harry. "Draco is staying home this week, that's for sure," he informed. "We'll see if he'll be able to go to school later on. But," he glanced back at Sirius, who quickly caught on to what he wanted to say without speaking about it beforehand.
Sirius climbed over the back of the couch and plopped himself down next to the teenager. "Ah, maybe you'd want to stay with us, huh? Spend some time together and get to know Draco a little bit more," he suggested.
Both men looked at Harry with expectation, but the teenager was taken aback.
"Oh, hell no."
"Oh, come on, Prongslet,"
"No. I told you I'm okay with him being here, barely, but I don't want to spend any more time with that git than I have to,"
"You'll have to get used to him eventually," Remus pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
Harry huffed. "Spending time with him will only drive me back into therapy, and I don't want that. So, sorry, but thank you. I'd rather be at school. Surprisingly." he muttered.
"Why do you assume the worst immediately?"
"It saves time."
"Harry," Sirius interjected. "We've talked about this."
The teenager pouted, pulling his knees up to his chest and stubbornly turning his head away. Despite Harry's resistance, his godfather sighed and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.
They sat in silence until a hand with a piece of chocolate appeared in front of the brunette’s face.
"Chocolate won't fix all your problems," Harry grumbled, turning his head in the opposite direction once again.
Remus shrugged, munching on a chocolate bar himself.
Sirius knocked on the door of Draco’s room.
"Draco, can I come in?" he asked, his tone filled with uncertainty as he didn't expect a response, of course, but didn't know what else to say.
After waiting a few moments, giving the teenager time to finish whatever he was doing and mentally prepare for his entrance, Sirius slowly cracked open the door.
"Hey, kid," he said with a slight smile, although it didn't reach his eyes. Draco was still in the exact same position he had left him, which was concerning, to say at least.
The black haired man contemplated whether he should try to get his attention before speaking. He knew that Draco's spacing out was likely a response to trauma, and he didn't want him to be stuck in his own thoughts. However, would it seem rude or, even worse, could it spook him if he tried reaching him?
Sirius hoped that the blond had actually taken some time for himself, perhaps looking around the room, unpacking, or using the bathroom. However, aside from a slightly crumpled duvet and Draco's hunched posture, it seemed as if the teenager had just arrived all over again. His belongings remained untouched by his side.
Feeling awkward, Sirius stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind himself. Still, Draco showed no signs of acknowledgement, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead of him.
"Er, we're going to have lunch soon," the man began, but to his disappointment, Draco still didn't respond, his muscles seemingly trapped in a daze. "Just grilled cheese sandwiches with vegetables. We...," Sirius sighed in frustration, stumbling over his words. He felt like a child, struggling to form a coherent sentence, and it was deeply frustrating.
He scratched his neck and chuckled softly. "…Okay. Let me start again, alright?" Despite Draco's distant eyes, he hoped that he could hear him. On the other hand, if he didn’t, it would surely save Sirius some second hand embarrassment for being so terribly awkward.
"We would love if you joined us at the dinner table, but we also understand if you want some alone time or prefer a different meal. Just, uh, let us know what feels right for you, and we'll make sure you have what you need," he explained. "I can show you to the kitchen, or, you can eat in here if that’s what you’re the most comfortable with, just say what you wanna eat and I’ll fetch it, alright?”
Draco's attention was finally caught by this offer, and he slowly turned his head towards Sirius, his haunted eyes showing a hint of recognition.
The man stopped himself from sighing in relief, and his smile grew wider. “It’s absolutely alright to eat in your room, so don’t worry about it. Just make sure to actually eat, at least something, okay? It’s crucial in your condition.”
What Draco was more focused on was only the fact that he could. He could eat in the bedroom. It was surprising.
Was it because of his weak state, or did they simply not want him at the dinner table and just tried to cover it?
It wasn’t allowed to eat anywhere else than in the dining room in the manor, and it was a state of fact. The word “snack” didn’t exist, either, but full meals in anywhere else than there were just a really confusing, and maybe a bit frightening, concept.
Nevertheless, he nodded. It still seemed like a better option than sitting at the table with Potter, Lupin, and Black. He wasn't ready for that yet, so he mentally prepared himself for any possible punishment that might come from his decision. How sure could he be that Black wasn't lying?
The man hummed. "Is the sandwich alright, or would you like something else? Our pantry is rather full, so I can even sneak in some snacks, so Moony wouldn’t fuss, if you don't feel like having a full meal. But you need to eat," Black chuckled, looking at him, yet Draco wasn’t sure how to actually respond.
Well - three sentences, over two possible questions, no idea of who Moony was (he could only assume that it was Lupin), he still couldn’t talk, and didn’t figure out another way to properly communicate yet.
So he just stared blankly at the man, hoping that he’d get the message. After a brief silence, it seemed to get across.
"Er, right. Are the sandwich and vegetables okay?" After a moment of consideration, Draco nodded softly, and Black appeared to beam.
"Alright. Would you like some juice," he paused, receiving no response, "or water?" a nod. Alright. Black nodded back. "Okay, I'll bring it to you in a minute. Is there anything else you would like? Really, don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything." after getting a shake of the head in response, he nodded once more and scurried away, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Draco propped himself up, anxiously waiting. Though, he barely had time to process his fear, because Black was indeed back in a minute.
The man entered the room with a warm smile, carrying a plate of food and a glass of water. He handed the plate to Draco, who thanked him with a polite nod. The blond held the plate carefully in his left hand while Sirius placed the glass on the bedside table.
"Enjoy," Black said softly, Draco nodded again, and then he disappeared.
As the door closed and a few additional seconds passed, Draco cautiously stood up from the bed and approached the desk. He gently placed the plate down and reached for the glass, setting it next to it. He then took a seat himself, not wanting to create any unnecessary mess if something.
He brushed off imaginary dust from his pants and glanced through the large window in front of him. The view revealed a slightly aged, yet still beautiful garden. His eyes involuntarily misted again.
There was a sudden knock at the door, causing Draco to actually jump and look at it with wide eyes. He had lost track of time, mindlessly staring out the window and occasionally nibbling at the vegetables and sipping water. The glass was now empty, yet he took maybe three bites of the sandwich through his daze.
"Draco, can I come in?" came a muffled voice, and the teenager's body tensed, waiting anxiously to see if the door would actually open.
He couldn't quite recall how he previously reacted to Black entering the room, but right now, the idea absolutely terrified him. What more could the man possibly want from him?
As the door cracked open, Draco stood up suddenly, his vision momentarily blurred by stars. Ignoring the sensation, he straightened himself up, preparing for whatever was to come.
Black awkwardly stepped into the room, pausing at the doorway. He held something in his hand which brought the teenager immediate terror, but he avoided staring at it, pretending not to care. It didn't seem dangerous, but based on his past encounters with people in his life, he had learned that even the most innocuous objects could, in fact, hurt.
"Hey, hey, easy there. I didn't mean to scare you, sorry," the man said with a nervous smile, gently closing the door behind himself. Draco tensed, observing him with wary eyes, keeping track of his every move.
Black clicked his tongue and scratched his neck. "I just wanted to have a little chat with you, get to know you better and go over a few things. Would that be okay?" he asked tentatively. Draco pretended to think, but deep down, he knew he had no other choice. He didn't really believe that the man would actually leave if he asked.
So he nodded, and Black nodded in return, running his tongue over his teeth.
After a brief moment, the black haired man approached the bed and cautiously sat at the edge of it. He maintained a distance, and Draco fought the urge to flinch. He wasn't getting closer than necessary, so the blond tried to reassure himself that everything was fine. It was okay.
"Ah, could you take a seat, please?" Draco complied without hesitation, sinking back into the chair immediately, his eyes still fixed on Black.
The man blinked. "Thank you." He fumbled with what he held in his hands, glancing at the teenager. "I've got, uh, this for you." He gestured with the object and then lightly tossed it to the other side of the bed, in Draco's direction.
The teenager's gaze finally shifted, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he glanced at the items in front of him. It was a small brown leather journal with gold accents and a simple black pen.
"Figured out it might be helpful for you to write instead of shaking your head all the time, at least for now..," Black's voice trailed off, and Draco squirmed uncomfortably, his left hand instinctively moving to cover the cast on his other arm.
The man's eyebrows twitched, and he let out a displeased hum. "...You're right-handed, I assume?"
Draco nodded hesitantly, avoiding eye contact, feeling a sense of shame. Yet, his mind immediately screamed that he could learn to write with his left hand if needed. He could do that, he could be good. It surely wouldn’t be a problem. He really could.
"Then... damn, uh," Black stumbled over his words. "Are you able to hold a pen?"
Yes. Yes I am. Really. Its not that hard, it’s not. It’s just a pen. I know.
But to at least try and reach it, he would have to stand up from the chair, and he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do so. He had been told to sit so he sat, and Black hadn't explicitly told him to grab the pen. Failing to notice small details like that was something that he got punished for quite often, so he was really cautious about it. He didn’t want to hurt. He was good.
So he simply shrugged in response. The man let out a soft sigh and shuffled closer on the bed, taking both the pen and notebook before handing them to him. The blond cautiously accepted them in his left hand, stabilizing them with his right.
"Try writing something, and we'll see, okay? I don't wanna make it even harder for you," Draco nodded as a sign that he understood, turned to sit up straight at the desk and opened the notebook.
He attempted to hold the pen steadily in his right hand, he really did, but it simply turned out to be impossible. The cast blocked his finger movements, causing anything with a diameter smaller than an average glass to slip from his grasp.
He managed to grasp the pen between his middle and index fingers, but he knew it wouldn't be of much use, would it?
With a shaky hand, he brought the pen to the paper, trying to write anyway, but the position was uncomfortable and certainly wouldn't work for longer sentences.
He could hear Black rising from the bed, and he tensed, his hand hovering anxiously over the notebook. The man stood not too far behind him, not close enough to touch him, but his gaze was fixed on Draco's hands, causing a cold sweat to trickle down the teenager’s spine.
Both of them stood frozen, until the dark haired man leaned forward slightly, and Draco cautiously turned his head to look at him.
He was bad. Bad. Bad.
The haunted, terrified expression on his pale face broke Sirius' heart.
"Hey, it's alright, it’s alright. It doesn't matter, okay? Don't worry," the man reassured quickly. "Your arm is literally broken, buddy, no wonder it’s challenging right now. But we can find other ways to communicate, alright? No problem."
Draco hesitated for a moment longer, his uncertain eyes shifting back to his hand. He couldn't think of any other form of communication in that moment, but the man seemed ready to somehow find a solution.
His mutism wasn't something new; it had happened before, never lasted this long, but his parents were never as… gentle and understanding as Black.
Draco screamed his throat raw, the night before it happened for the first time, but that wasn't the reason he couldn't speak. He didn't really try anyway, though. He felt pure terror mixed with an empty hollowness, as his eleven year old brain tried to handle everything he went through, and it was a truly terrible experience.
His mother cried, held him so tightly it was suffocating, begged him to say something, anything. His father looked at him with so much disgust, but his gaze wasn't quite focused on him. It seemed to penetrate past him, diving more into what he went through. However, he simply told Draco to pull himself together and not add to his mother's worries.
And Draco did, on the fourth day. His eyes finally showed some recognition towards his mother, who hadn't left his bedside since it began. He sobbed in her embrace; ugly wailed, scratched, trembled, and screamed. Yet whatever had happened to him remained a mystery.
Draco glanced back at Black, softly nodding his head.
"Okay, okay. Thank you," the man exhaled, visibly relieved. "Maybe you could try writing with your left hand? Would that be easier?" His tone was gentle, as though he were speaking to a young child. It was irritating, but also somewhat comforting.
Determined, Draco grasped the pen with his left hand. He attempted to simply write his name in his usual cursive, but it proved to be much harder than he had anticipated. After only managing to write the letter D, he decided to switch to simple letters. He sloppily and slowly wrote Draco Malfoy in small print at the top of the first page, furrowing his brows in concentration.
Rewriting his school notes in his notebooks was nothing new to him, as his father often tore the pages out in fits of anger. However, he never had to write with his left hand, and it added a new level of stress. He anxiously awaited Black's reaction, hoping he wouldn't get angry. While the words were technically readable, Draco still glanced back at the man, silently seeking validation.
Black hummed softly. "Okay, that is definitely not easier. Er, do you have your phone, maybe?" The boy nodded, but quickly refocused on the notebook, slowly but firmly scribbling the words not charged. "Oh, not charged? And I assume you don't have a charger?" Draco softly shook his head, and the man pursed his lips.
"…Alright, I'll look for one later, after, uh, we talk. I want to finish before dinner," he said, plopping back down onto the bed. Draco's eyes grew dark, and his shoulders tensed. He didn't know what Black wanted to discuss with him, but he was certain it couldn't possibly be anything good. Had he already done something wrong?
Of course. Of course. He was bad.
"Uh, wait, no, no, you're not in trouble. Hey, relax," Sirius quickly stammered, afraid he had already messed up the conversation. "Like I said, er, I just thought it would be best to go over a few things first, make sure you're comfortable here."
Draco narrowed his eyes and fidgeted with his hands on his lap. The dark-haired man sighed softly.
"First things first, I-, I want you to know that Remus and I are here for you. You can come to us anytime if you have any concerns or if anything is bothering you. Really, anything. I know it may be difficult and, maybe awkward at first, especially with Remus, but he also really cares about you. We both want you to feel comfortable."
There was a pause, and Draco thought that maybe the man was waiting for his reaction, so he simply nodded slightly to show that he still in fact understood English.
Sirius paused for a moment, contemplating his words, before continuing in a more coherent manner. "We normally eat meals together, but feel free to use the kitchen whenever you're hungry and eat wherever you like. I'll give you a tour of the house, er, later. You’re free to move around however you want, too, just- you know, not into Harry’s room. He would have had your head. And possibly not make any ruckus at night, but otherwise everything’s to your disposition," he said with a gentle chuckle. Draco nodded once again, though the man was just basically having a conversation with himself.
"We don’t really have rules in the traditional sense. They're more like...guidelines to make living together easier." And that was a surprise, so Draco just assumed there was an unspoken code that he would have to figure out on his own by observing their reactions.
Sirius smiled warmly, trying to ease the blond’s apprehension. "We haven't assigned specific chores, so don't worry about those. We all just pitch in when we can.
There's no need to be so, uptight or formal. I know that it may be confusing at first, but trust me, and I mean it; it will get easier," he reassured. It hit close to home. He wasn’t sure how to act around adults in his youth, either.
"We need to stay civil with each other. You know, no disrespect, no name-calling, and so on. Harry might give you a hard time, but I assure you, he means no harm, he’s just an oblivious idiot sometimes. If he becomes troublesome, don't hesitate to come to us. We'll handle it appropriately.
When it comes to punishments,” he didn’t miss the way Draco flinched, and knew he had to be careful. Hearing words that he was about to say could be quite a shock.
"We don't have those established either, most of the time we prefer to just talk things through. Though punishments are not meant to hurt you in any way, of course. You’re not supposed to be afraid in order to be obedient, it’s not right, and… You shouldn’t have been treated the way you were." Sirius explained, perhaps revealing too much at once, but he just needed Draco to understand.
Draco was confused.
Treated what way?
Black seemed to imply the same thing as the social workers, doctors, and policemen. That Draco got abused. They walked on eggshells around the word, but the blond knew that there was no need to, because he hadn't been abused by anyone. His home life was perfectly stable, and he just wanted to go back to his father.
Everything was fine.
"There might have disagreements or fights, but Remus and I will never raise our voices or resort to physical violence. Never. If you still feel scared, we will try our best to understand and change," Black assured him, exhaling deeply.
Draco had so many questions he wanted to ask, but couldn't.
"…That would be all, I think. If you have any more questions, ask away.” a pause. “Would you like to join us for dinner?" the man asked with poorly hidden hope.
Draco hadn’t moved, only the fidgeting of his hands intensified.
He wanted to scream at Black to leave him alone because nothing he said made sense, but couldn’t.
Finally, he shook his head, and the black haired man seemed to deflate slightly, although the smile remained on his face.
"Okay. We have omelettes. Would that be okay?" Draco nodded. "..And water?" he nodded once again, Black nodded back.
The man disappeared without a fuss again, and quickly returned with a meal, placing it in front of Draco and collecting the previous dishes. Usually, the blond would expect to be yelled at for not eating what was given to him, but Black didn't seem bothered by the barely touched sandwich.
"Give it a try, yeah?" was all he said, balancing the empty glass on the plate and tossing the promised phone charger onto the bed. "Here, it should work." Draco glanced at it, then back towards Sirius.
He scratched his neck. "Again, we're downstairs, so feel free to join us. If not, don’t know if you saw, theres some clothes in the wardrobe if you need anything. Towels are in the bathroom, if you want to shower. Just be careful, the water might be cold at first, but it'll warm up eventually," he chuckled, yet Draco could easily sense how awkward it was for him, too. "Don't worry about school, you're off till the end of the week. I'll check on you later in the evening, okay?“
The blond nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Sirius nodded back and left with a reassuring smile.
Draco turned his gaze back to the window, staring out as the sun began to set. Once it disappeared completely behind the building opposite Grimmauld, he decided there was nothing interesting left to watch, completely ignoring the idea of eating. He took a sip of the water, though.
Carefully rising from the desk to avoid scraping the wooden floor with the chair, he walked towards the bed. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and grabbed the charger, scanning the room for an outlet.
Finding one near the bedside table, he plugged it in and then turned his attention to the garbage bag containing his belongings. After some fumbling, he managed to open it and began pulling out individual pieces of clothing in search of some pajamas.
Unfortunately, he couldn't find anything suitable. All he had were a few shirts and tailored pants. Father would have murdered him if he slept in those, so he hid them all back and closed the garbage bag again.
With a dissatisfied expression, he approached the wardrobe and opened it, hoping to find something appropriate to sleep in there. With a sigh, he grabbed the only hoodie he could find, along with a pair of socks and boxers still in their packaging.
He needed to firmly reassure himself that nothing would happen if he left the room, although it took him a few minutes to steady his breathing before he could make his way to the bathroom.
Once there, he made sure to lock the door, looked through possibly every cabinet, realized that even simply changing out of his clothes without a dozen of painkillers was extremely painful, and then spent a fair share of time wondering how he would get through washing himself without wetting his cast. Eventually, he just decided to keep his arm out of the shower, even though it was certainly not too handy (literally).
He stood under the running water until his head began to spin, then changed into the surprisingly comfortable clothes that he referred to as his pajamas now. They weren't the same silk nightwear he wore at the manor, but they had to do.
After finishing in the bathroom, he returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed without a particular purpose.
He stared ahead for a long time before summoning the courage to prepare for sleep, silently hoping that he would wake up and discover that it had all been a dream.
With a trembling hand, he moved the dog (wolf?) plushie from its place, holding it under his right arm as he fluffed the pillows and duvet. Then, he set the animal right back down. Then picked it up again.
He repeated the process a few times, before finally deciding that he would not sleep with a stupid toy at his grown age, and left it next to his untouched dinner.
Leaning against the desk, he drank the remaining water but surprisingly did not focus on the window. The reflection of light coming from the bulb obscured his view, leaving only his own reflection visible. That wasn’t an interesting sight.
After a while, as his muscles ached, he turned off the light, took the plushie back into his hand (it looked so sad and miserable), and lied down, burying himself under the covers. The wolf-like toy remained beside him, but he was most certainly not stroking its soft fur!
Several hours must have passed.
It grew completely dark outside, he heard Potter enter his own room, Lupin’s low voice, and finally Black knocking on his door. Draco desperately pretended to be asleep as the man stood in the doorway silently, watching, his hand on the doorknob.
Fear completely stiffened his body, and suddenly Draco felt as if he was eleven all over again, the first time Greyback came into his room at night, silently praying that the man would leave him alone.
With a soft sigh, Black eventually did, closing the door gently behind himself. Draco thought he might have heard a faint ”sleep well” whispered.
Nothing made sense. Black was so, so good towards him. Draco didn’t understand.