Chapter 2
Draco cursed under his breath as another not so subtle stinging hex was aimed at his arm. Somehow, someone figured out that hexes and curses aimed at his dark mark hurt more than usual, and that was where the students took out their frustrations.
Not that Draco could blame them, it’s not like Voldemort was kept prisoner for them to practice their jinxes on, and all the adult death eaters were locked away in Azkaban. Draco was just the closest and most convenient target practice.
That’s not to say he just sat there and took it of course, his wordless protego had gotten a lot better, and he constantly walked around with a protection charm he made himself. Still, some particularly vengeful students manage to catch him off guard, and holding up a protego get’s exhausting for even the most advanced wizards. Except for maybe Harry sodding Potter, since he always seemed to be the bloody exception to any rule the wizarding world invented.
Ride on a bloody dragon? Potter did it in a blink. Block an Avada Kedavra? Potter did it. Somehow survive death? Potter allegedly did that too, if his mother’s to be believed.
Curse Potter and his inability to fail at whatever seemingly impossible task he fancied to accomplish next.
Draco sighed as he slipped into Snape’s abandoned office and pulled out his textbooks. Ideally, he would be studying in his dorm, but there was a sock on the door and Draco really hoped that the other voice he heard through wasn’t Blaise, because that would shift his entire worldview of Neville. And Blaise.
Draco suppressed a shudder as he opened his Defense Against the Dark Arts book. Now, he wasn’t horrible at the class, but it was definitely the one he struggled most in. Honestly, how necessary is it for him to know how to cast a Patronus anyways? Stupid Potter’s voice echoed in his ears, ‘ just think of a happy memory Malfoy’. Right yes, because Draco had a full supply of those. Someone had muttered that Draco ‘ wouldn’t even be able to cast one since he was a dark wizard’ . As if they know anything about dark wizards- Snape was one and he could cast a Patronus easily. It was just Draco who was obviously broken.
A Patronus is conjured through the application of joyful feelings and happy memories, culminating into a manifestation of one’s soul, made of their most pure feelings. The Patronus is a Light spell, and-
Draco slammed his textbook shut and slumped over the desk. He briefly considered throwing the blasted book across the room, but thought better of it. He felt so useless. A wandless wizard was bad enough, but mute? Draco was surprised he was still alive. All of summer he had worked on his wordless, wandless spells in order to somehow survive at school. Obviously he had a government administered wand, but it was given and taken from him for every lesson. The Ministry had crippled him, for all intents and purposes.
Draco let his mind drift to that summer after Voldemort was defeated. Two weeks after his trial, Draco had been hit with something , and was rendered mute. He’s not exactly sure how it happened actually, or even the day or time. He had been floating in and out of his mind, not quite gone but not grounded either.
Some days he wanted to be dead.
He couldn’t die though, his mother had no one else except for his aunt Andromeda, but she had a grandchild to take care of and wasn’t getting any younger in years.
Draco had nearly lost his mind when he realized he couldn’t speak. For a week he refused to come out of his room, emerging once to consult the curse-breaker the Ministry had sent only for the old swot to be useless.
After a stern talking down by his mother, Draco pulled himself out of his slump, if marginally, to see what he could do about his condition. School was going to be hard enough without his own wand, but Draco had been slightly hopeful. Now, being mute would make it practically impossible. Draco wondered if there were wizards who had been born mute, and what they did to survive. Losing his speech sent his world off kilter, and Draco wasn’t sure what he was going to do if he wasn’t able to break his curse.
So he exercised. If he was going to be magically incapacitated, there was no reason he should physically look like a dying Victorian child, no matter how much the purebloods seemed to like that aesthetic. His mother nearly had a heart attack at the sight of Draco wheezing in the Manor’s lawn, feeling terribly winded after his first run. And Muggles did that for fun? Masochists, the lot of them.
However, it helped, quite a lot actually. Draco could feel his appetite coming back, which had never happened after he saw Nagini swallow a muggle whole right on his dining table. His body also seemed to fit him better, lanky arms taking on definition and legs that no longer looked like noodles.
That summer was the first time since fifth year where Draco didn’t hate the way his body looked. Now looking at the broken mirror in Snape's old office, Draco only found two faults on his body. One was the Dark Mark. Obviously. And the other was the scarring from whatever bloody curse Potter had aimed at him in the bathroom. Mother had tried all she could, but the scarring never faded. It stretched from his hip bone all the way to just above his jaw, where the last of it had caught him. Nothing a little glamor and Muggle makeup couldn’t fix. Stupid Potter and his bloody idiocy. Damned idiot didn’t even apologize.
Draco stared balefully at his Dark Arts textbook, wondering if he could just say “I survived living with Voldemort in my house” and pass the course.
A Patronus is conjured through the application of joyf-
“Malfoy?”
What in the bloody fuck-
Draco stared up through his hair at Potter, his face settled into what he hoped was a neutral expression, one that didn’t show his momentary panic.
“What are you doing here?” Potter questioned lightly.
Practicing how to become invisible forever, Draco wrote with a roll of his eyes.
Potter’s eyebrows furrowed as he read the note on the side of Draco’s spare parchment paper. “Are you really?” he asked, sounding unsure.
Obviously not Potter, don’t be daft. I’m just doing this stupid DADA homework.
“Is there no other way for you to communicate? And I’m sure the homework isn’t that hard. Aren’t you an expert in Dark Arts anyways?”
Ha bloody ha. I’ll ignore your last comment, and no, I really can’t communicate any other way. And of course you would think conjuring a Patronus is easy.
Draco grimaced as he saw Potter’s face light up as he read the last sentence. Trust Potter to always have some savior complex. Three, two, on-
“Let me help you! I’ve shown other people how to do it, it’s really not that bad-”
Yup. Draco sighed as he held up a hand to stop Potter from rambling. Potter, I am quite proficient in casting charms, however, it isn’t the simplest thing in the world to cast a Patronus when one is significantly lacking in recent ‘joyful experiences’.
“Well then let’s make some.”
What. Draco stared incredulously at the other boy, who somehow had no sign of deceit in his face.
Are you out of your bloody mind?? Draco scribbled furiously. What on earth are you on about?
Potter put on an exaggerated pout. “Come on Malfoy, it’s not that strange of a concept. Would you rather fail Defense than spend some time with me?”
Draco thought of green eyes, a blinding smile, warm hands and soft hair and- no.
Draco got up and pushed past Potter out the door.
“Wha- Malfoy!”
Draco’s heart thudded in his chest as he speed walked down the hall, casting numerous glamor and notice-me-not charms on himself as he got to more crowded halls. Potter’s magic was loud and demanding as it searched through the halls for Draco. He walked faster.
Draco walked out of the castle to the quidditch stands, his blood roaring in his ears as he fought to get himself under control. Curse Potter and his stupidly attractive face and dumb savior complex.
POP!
What the FU-
“Why did you run from me?”
Potter just apparated in front of Draco. Potter just apparated in front of Draco in Hogwarts. Potter just apparated in front of Draco in Hogwarts.
Right then. Bloody hell.
Potter sat there waiting for Draco’s answer, as if he didn’t just break through ancient wards and somehow end up right where Draco was.
Draco reached for a quill and paper, only to realize he left his bag in Snape’s office.
Potter startled a bit and said, “Oh right, here you go!” and handed Draco his bag.
What.
Sceptically, Draco took out his supplies and began writing frantically.
Potter. Potter you utter daft imbecile how did you just apparate through some of the oldest wards in bloody wizarding history do you not know that that is not done . You never listened to rules anyways I don’t know why I’m surprised but seriously what the hell. How on earth did you even find me and why, and did you know that your magic is loud as hell honestly you need to control that you won’t be doing any sneaking missions as an auror I hope you know that. And also-
“Malfoy please relax before you break a wrist.”
Draco’s head snapped up to look at Potter, who was staring at him with a mix of bemusement and bashfulness. Draco raised an eyebrow.
“I uh, found out I could do that after I fought Voldemort? Like the last time, before he died. Uh, and I have a…magic map? That tracks everybody, uhm-”
Draco huffed in exasperation. Of course he had a bloody magic map.
Next thing you tell me is that you’re the Master of Death.
Silence.
“...Maybe?”
What the hell.