Chapter 2
Emmeline was alive.
She was alive and at Hogwarts.
Draco Malfoy couldn't believe it.
He’s dreamed of this, sure. As any young wizard whose soulmate is taken from them and murdered while they were children might, yes he’s fantasized about the idea.
But he’s never allowed himself to hope. Never allowed himself to give any real thought to the idea in his waking moments. Because Emmeline has been dead for nine years. And since the very moment she was taken, his magic has never been the same.
Draco’s mother used to tell him how lucky he was. How small the chances of finding your mate at such a young age were. But he’d known. From the moment they’d been introduced as infants his mother told him he’d always calm in the presence of her. And he’d felt it. He could just barely remember those moments of utter peace at Nott Manor that he found as a child with Theo and Emmeline.
And then it had all been gone so quickly.
And from that moment on…well, look, Draco wasn’t proud of his shitty disposition, but when your future gets torn to shreds, your best friend loses his entire family, your magic hasn’t entirely been controllable since you were five years old, and your politician father is a…politician, you find it hard to put a smile on your face.
So, he didn’t tell Theo when they arrived at the school they’d always dreamed of going to and something in him stirred that hadn’t for nine years. He didn’t tell Theo that when he woke up having dreams of their childhoods resurface, that Draco had had them too.
But now he didn’t need to.
Because as he sat on the boat waiting for his father to floo in, he knew it was fairly simple to conclude.
Emmeline was alive.
Her murder had been staged.
The Nott daughter had been kidnapped as a child and placed in a muggle home while dark magic was placed on her to keep her from remembering anything of her past. And whoever had done it had done a good enough job that any time someone tried to remind her of it, her memory was wiped. It was twisted and sick and Draco would make sure that the death of whoever had caused her this pain would be a slow one.
He'd left Theo in their room. Draco knew his brother hadn’t slept in days leading up to yesterday, the anniversary of when she died. Or when they had thought she’d died.
Because there was no mistaking it. Emmaline was alive. She was alive and her name was Hermione Granger. Her name was Hermione Granger, and she had no idea who he was or what they were to each other. Merlin I’m going to be sick, he thought. But just as the thought entered his mind, he heard the roar of the fireplace and out stepped his father. Lucius Malfoy. There he was in all of his glory, just as he always was. Draco knew he’d noticed him only when his shoes came into view. He’d learned long ago not to address his father without having been called upon.
“Draco.” He spoke and the cold metal of his cane struck Draco’s chin briefly, before it pushed upwards so he was staring into his father’s eyes.
“Father.” He didn’t dare say more yet. Not without prompt and especially not without his mother there. His father was always kinder in front of his mother, or Theo for that matter. It was Draco who the wizard truly seemed to detest. But he needed his help today, so he would go through this if he had to.
“Well, speak up! I don’t have all fucking day to deal with your insolence. You owled me that it was urgent. Why am I here, Draco?” he fought the urge to step backwards. He had to get through this. For Theo. For Emmeline. His father would know how to help them. Or he’d know someone who knew what to do.
“Yes Father, it’s about…it’s about—” how was he supposed to say this? ‘Father your dead best friend’s daughter was actually not murdered nine years ago but merely kidnapped which means both he and his wife died for nothing, and their daughter is alive?’ That probably wasn’t right. But before he could think about it any further a hard hand collided with his face and Draco nearly fell backwards from the impact.
“Do not waste my time!” He hissed, “You know very well I have better things to do that sit around listening to you stutter like a fucking mudblood. You are pathetic, Draco!”
He felt something drip down his jaw and when he ran a hand over it, it came back bloody. Fucking rings again. But when he looked up again his father was walking back towards the fireplace, and he just couldn’t let that happen.
“It’s Emmeline!” he called out, hoping for any reaction. When he got one however, he couldn’t deny his own apprehension at the look in his father’s eyes.
“Excuse me?” he said as he stormed over, and this was Draco’s last chance to get help. To find answers.
“She’s—she’s alive!”
“What the hell did you say to me?!”
“Father, she’s alive. And she goes to Hog—” but he didn’t get to finish before Lucius’s hand was around his throat and he was pushing him up against the wall so Draco could hardly breathe.
“I don’t know where you think you got the nerve, boy. But I assure you that it is time to grow up. You are not a child, and I will not have you shouting lunacy because of whatever fucking fantasy you still hold! If you do, I can assure you, you will not live long enough to see the face of my real anger!” He spat and only let go once Draco could no longer hold in the sounds of his own choking and his vision had begun to dim. He fell forward then, gasping for air, and when he’d finally garnered control over himself, his father was gone. Fuck.
Draco had known it would be a long shot. He couldn't actually remember a time when he'd asked his father for help on anything. And even if he had, the response would most definitely have ended poorly for Draco. But he'd thought—or he'd hoped that this could be different. The man hated Draco's inconsolable weakness for the witch, but he'd hoped if his father understood it differently—if he'd seen it as detached from Draco's own emotions, he would have cared. But Draco had failed. He hadn't been prepared and he'd ruined it.
That was his one chance to convince his father. He wouldn’t help him if he asked again and Draco knew they needed help. Who else could he go to?
It took him a few moments to calm himself before he wandered back to his dorm. He needed to think. Draco was so lost in his thoughts though that he forgot Theo would be waiting in there as well and he had been far too distracted to even think about fixing his face or neck. Which is why when he opened the door and walked to his bed, he was shoved back by the shoulders as Theo stared at him.
“Draco,”
“I’m fine.” He brushed him off to sit down but Theo grabbed his arm again.
“Draco, this is bad.”
“It’s fine, Theo. Leave it be.” He pushed away and fell onto his mattress.
“There’s a handprint on your neck.” He said, pointing at what Draco knew was definitely forming into a nasty bruise—again.
“He was giving his own form of affection.” But the joke fell flat at Theo’s glare.
“He was giving himself a death warrant.”
“So, what Theo? It’s not a big deal. It’s not like he does it to anyone else. You know I’d never let him touch you.” Because he wouldn’t. Draco could take whatever his father gave him as long as he knew he’d never lay a hand on Theo or his mother.
“So that makes it okay for him to use you as his punching bag?”
“Look, he’s, my father. I’m his heir. It’s fine.” He tried to pacify him. He didn’t know why Theo was overreacting. It’s not like this was the first time he’d seen him after Draco had talked to his father. He knew it made him uncomfortable, so he usually tried to mend the marks before leaving, but today he’d been too distracted. This wasn’t anything special. He was used to it. Sure, he used to be able to escape by going over to Theo’s house, but that wasn’t really an option anymore. So he was handling it. “Fuck!” he shouted, because they were fucked.
“What is it? Draco, what happened?”
He was pulling on the hair in his head, trying to think of a solution. Emmeline was alive and they needed help but his father wouldn’t help them.
“Draco!” Theo shook his shoulders and he snapped.
“WHAT?”
“Mate, you need to calm down and explain what’s going on to me. What did your father say? Is he going to help us?”
“No, he’s not going to fucking help us Theo! And I didn’t even get the chance to ask before he,” he gestured to where he could practically still feel his father’s hand around his neck. When Theo’s eyes grew in anger, he changed tactics. “He didn’t believe me, Theo. He thought it was just one of my visions agai—”
“One of your what?” Theo’s eyes snapped to him. Shite.
“Nothing, Theo. Just…he didn’t believe me.”
“What the hell visions are you talking about? Have you been having dreams of my sister too?” he put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and forced him to face him.
Yes, at least once a week since the day she died and every night since we arrived at this horrible school.
“No, Theo. Just…occasionally. After we spoke to Granger is all.” Theo didn’t need his baggage. No one needed to know about the shite he saw. The only reason his father had found out was because he used legilimency on him whenever he was in especially fowl moods. He’d seen one years ago and Draco had paid the price. Malfoys don’t daydream. Malfoys don’t have fucking fantasies.
“Granger?…fuckGranger! Draco what the hell are we going to do?”
“I have no idea.” He ran a hand through his hair and watched as Theo unconsciously mirrored his action. Theo was his brother. Draco would do anything he had to to help him.
But before he could think of a solution, Karkaroff was in their doorway.
“Malfoy,” he snapped and when Draco looked around at him he saw his headmasters eyes drop briefly to his neck before connecting with his like he hadn’t noticed anything, but Draco knew better. Shite, I need to fix that. “Malfoy why have I just heard that your father was on board my ship earlier?”
Was that wrong? His father had never really cared to follow the rules applied by Durmstrang regarding visitation. He’d shown up whenever he’d felt it was necessary over the years to remind Draco of his place. It hadn’t occurred to Draco that the same might not be permitted while they were at Hogwarts.
“Because he was sir.”
“Would you care to tell me why your father was here without my permission, Malfoy?”
“Sorry Sir. I wasn’t aware he required it. We had to speak about a personal matter.” He answered vaguely.
“Well, he does, Malfoy. And it would be good of you to remember it. I’ve spoken with Dumbledore, and we decided before this entire event begins, no one may enter the premise without explicit permission from the Hogwarts headmaster himself. Including Malfoys.” His tone brokered no argument and the end of it was said with a sneer.
That was…a relief actually. If that were true, then his father would not be able to storm in at any time and surprise him. He wondered for a moment if Karkaroff knew that, but he highly doubted the man cared.
“Yes sir. Of course, sir. Apologies.”
“Good. I shall be shutting off the network from here on out, so do not think of it happening again.”
“Of course, sir.”
He nodded once to Draco and then once to Theo, “Nott.”
“Headmaster.” Theo nodded back and then he was gone.
“Do you think that’s something he’ll tell my father for me? Or is it more a trial-and-error issue?” he asked once they were alone.
“I’m not sure which would be worse.” Theo answered and Draco hummed in agreement. “But we have class soon, so we’ve got to go mate.”
“Right.” Class with Granger. Class with Emmeline. Draco stood to grab his robes, but Theo forced him back down. “What the hell?”
“Do you want me to fix it? Or do you want all of the nosy bastards asking questions?” Oh right.
“Just do it quickly.” He gritted and Theo cast the necessary healing charms to close the wounds on his face and cover the bruises on his neck. They stung briefly, but it wasn’t any pain he hadn’t felt before.