Chapter 15
“Draco!” A voice called, a loud one, but Draco’s head was too noisy and drowsy to comprehend it. “Draco!” It rang again.
He wanted to curl up. Everything hurt. He was pretty sure he hadn’t dreamt that father had been in an especially angry mood last night. Draco wasn’t sure what a broken rib felt like, but he imagined it felt something like this.
“Draco!” That was a new voice. A sharper voice. A deeper voice, and one he knew very well. It sounded further away. Draco wrapped his arm around his middle, trying to assuage the pain, and crawled to the edge of his bed.
He must’ve slept in by accident. Father would surely only be angry at him in the morning if he’d gone and done something so foolish. He needed to put on his day robes quickly.
Draco threw his legs around and slid off the tall mattress. When his feet hit the floors though, suddenly everything felt wobbly and his head starting spinning from the pain.
Draco tried to walk forward, he really did, but as he took a step, his small legs gave out and he fell, hard.
Yes, that’s definitely what a broken rib feels like, he thought to himself.
It was at that moment that his bedroom door seemed to slam open. Draco’s vision was spotty, and he tried to push himself to stand but the pain was too great.
“Draco!” A voice practically shrieked. That was his mum, he realized. “Oh my Dragon!” He could only listen as footsteps brought his mum to where he thought she might be kneeling in front of him. “What’s wrong?” She cried, “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, my love.”
He moaned, his head was throbbing too much to come up with proper words.
Arms wrapped around him then, pulling him towards her and he felt it as she lifted his frame from the ground and then there was a softness beneath him as she placed him back on the bed.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” His mum whispered. Draco still couldn’t see anything, his eyelids too heavy to open, but he knew she was crying as she leaned over him. “I don’t know how this has happened. I’m so sorry, Dragon,”
“Narcissa.” Draco felt rather than saw as his mother stiffened at father’s voice.
“What did you do?” His mum sounded cold and angry, and Draco’s body trembled.
“Narcissa,” He heard footsteps, and his mother placed a hand over Draco’s leg.
“What did you do?” She asked again. If it didn’t hurt too much he would have tried to move.
“Don’t speak down to me.” Father snapped.
“She’s gone.” His mother said. Draco had no idea what she meant, but he felt as his mum’s hands began to shake. “I’ve spoken with Kassandra, and she’s gone! She's gone! She's gone! The girl is gone!” She shouted. Her voice was hoarse and it made Draco's head hurt worse.
“Cissa,” There was almost a hesitation to his father’s voice, but his mum cut him off before Draco could even try and understand.
“Don’t you dare Cissa me! I know what you think. I am no fool, I know what you’ve been doing!” Her grip on his leg tightened and Draco flinched as even that seemed to hurt.“Tell me now that you know nothing of this. Swear to me you had no hand in what’s happened!”
“Narcissa, of course I—”
“Swear it.”
“I swear.”
“On my life.” She whispered, and it was as though even the air in the room stopped breathing for his answer. Father was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his was much closer to them.
“I swear . . . on your life, my wife, that I did not plan for this to happen.”
It was quiet, Draco wasn’t even sure he was still awake for several minutes before they spoke again.
“Lucius,” His mum sobbed, her voice breaking with tears.
“I know.” He answered kindly. Draco listened to the shifting of robes for a moment as he was sure the two of them embraced.
"I've never seen her like that." Mum's voice was muffled as she spoke. "She-sh-she said Thoros, Thoros has gone to the ministry. Th—they got p-pa-past the wards Lucius. Theo was stunned and—and she said, oh Lucius," She cried. And Draco heard his father whispering things that he couldn't understand. He tried to listen but everything felt like it was slipping away. Draco was in so much pain, all his mind knew was it’s suffocating extent and how it choked him. Draco wasn’t in control as his body groaned.
He felt empty and yet still like he needed to puke. It was wrong. It was all wrong and he didn’t know why. His chest felt like something crucial was missing.
“Draco!” Mum breathed, and suddenly her arms were around him again. “Lucius call the healer.”
“Narcissa,” His father’s tone was short once more, and Draco’s hands started shaking. If this was a broken rib, he didn’t know if he could do another if father got mad.
"Lucius.” She snapped. “Get the healer now!”
“Fine.” He answered, Draco listened as his footsteps left the room.
His mum’s lips pressed to his forehead.
“Mummy,” He moaned.
“Yes, Dragon. You’re alright. It’s going to be alright. The healer’s coming. We’re going to be alright.”
“Who’s gone?” Draco tried to ask. He wasn’t even sure if he’d said the words. His mum was quiet for so long he was sure he hadn’t, but then she answered.
“Emmeline.” She whispered.
“Mm?” He couldn’t put together proper words, but he didn’t understand. What did that mean? Emmeline’s gone? No. She couldn’t be gone. That was silly. He’d seen Tree just a few days ago and he’d said Flower was okay. His mum wasn’t making any kind of sense. His Flower couldn’t be gone, that would be horrible.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re—we’re gonna . . . fuck Regulus, I need you!” His mum cried, her cold hands brushing against his too hot forehead. “I need a healer, I need help.”
“Mum.” He groaned. Draco wanted to help. He always wanted to help. He hated when Mum cried, especially when it was his fault.
“Draco?” a third voice entered, but still, he couldn’t see. “Draco, wake up.” There was a kindness in it and he didn’t understand. He wanted to go to it but everything hur—wait, no. He was fine.
Draco startled, confused and barely awake. He opened his eyes to be met with brown ones watching him.
“Emme—er, Hermione?”
“Hi,” She smiled in front of him, not having noticed his mistake. “Are you alright? It sounded like you might’ve been having a nightmare.”
Yes, Draco was quite sure he had been. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dreamt about that awful morning. That awful day and the painful weeks that followed. But he smiled to himself because it was over. All of it. She was here, she was alive, and she was okay.
“Better now,” he said. Draco looked around them, he must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for her in the tower. “How are you?”
“Good,” Hermione grinned. “I’m, I’m good. How are you?”
“Brilliant.”
She moved then to sit next to him against the wall.
“Long day?”
“The longest.” Draco told her. “But it’s better now that you’re here.” He couldn’t deny the swell of pride that filled him at the pink coating her cheeks from his words.
“I’m glad.” Hermione pulled a bag around from her shoulder and set it in her lap. Draco watched her, he loved watching her, as she took a book from it and opened its pages to read. He remembered the book abandoned in his own lap and realized she must intend to study together as they often did. But something about that day had been exhausting.
Maybe it was the warning he’d been given by Karkaroff that morning about his father trying to visit, maybe it was the never ending workload of being a student, maybe it was the fears which constantly plagued him about meeting Regulus again, or maybe it was the dream he had of the day when he thought he’d lost the person destined to complete him, but Draco was tired. He was just so fucking tired.
“Hermione?” He heard himself ask quietly.
“Hmm?” She looked up at him, a furrow forming between her brows. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment Draco worried, for a moment he thought it wouldn’t be worth the humiliation if she said no. But he was tired and she was his mate, and if for just this night, he wanted to pretend his world wasn’t a complete fucking mess.
“Is it alright if I use your shoulder?”
“Pardon?” Hermione’s eyebrows jumped.
“Er, I’m exhausted, and I know you probably have to work, but I—”
“Oh yes! Of course, sorry, I . . . yes, of course.” She smiled, scooting herself closer to him. Draco thanked Merlin for her kindness as he leaned over. His head fell against her, and fuck if his magic didn’t seem to hum inside of him. This witch, it seemed to say, she’s right, and he couldn’t help but agree.
Hermione opened her book up again and began to read. For a few moments Draco watched her quietly, but soon his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep feeling the most peace he had in likely years.
---- ---- ---- ---- ----
When Hermione had gotten up the stairs to the tower, that was not how she had expected the evening to go.
She hadn’t expected to find Draco asleep. And she certainly hadn’t expected to find his face contorted in anguish, murmuring for his mother under his breath.
Hermione had woken him out of concern. But she hadn’t wanted to embarrass him so she’d tried to move on like it hadn’t happened quickly and begin working. Draco didn’t seem like the kind of person who would want to wallow or just reflect on his struggles. Hermione could relate.
Now he was asleep again. And, though Hermione had pulled out a book she’d been fully invested in earlier, as of yet she was pretty sure she’d reread the same two pages fifty times and she still had no idea what they’d said.
Professor Moody’s ideas be damned, Hermione was confident the boy snoring softly beside her could not be a dark wizard if he tried. He was too sweet.
Draco Malfoy smelled like pine needles and apples. Hermione had never really noticed how someone smelled before, unless of course it was whether they smelled bad. But ever since she’d become friends with Draco, she did. It was almost as though it had become magnified. Everything stood out to her now, or Draco did, and the fact that everyone else was different from him did.
Ron often smelled like spilled ink, Neville usually like the greenhouses, and Harry and Theo were usually reminiscent of broom polish. But Draco smelled like apples and winter and she found herself wondering if it could be replica—wait, no. That’s creepy.
Cursing herself and her wandering thoughts, Hermione opened her book and began to read again.
The origins of the practice first began during the hunger crisis of 720. While wizarding kind had been waring with the local elvish colonies over territory boundaries. The crisis arose as the northern colonies began raiding wizard food storages for supplies. During one such raid, 7 elves were taken hostage by Edward the fifth of the . . .
Draco’s shifted in his sleep, wrapping an arm around her almost as if in support. Hermione stopped breathing as she waited to see if he woke.
He didn’t.
But now her eyes were watching where his hand held her. His arms were covered in a long dark green cashmere sweater that had been pulled back slightly in his movements. As she watched him, Hermione noticed he was wearing a single chain golden bracelet on his wrist. And for some reason, she had the urge to touch it.
It was like nothing she could have expected. The bracelet was strange to the touch. For a moment she wondered if it was a burn, that she needed to pull away from it. But it wasn't. Something about the bracelet was . . .nice. Hermione wasn't sure how to describe it, just that the magic inside felt familiar to her. She found herself holding onto it then, pushing herself into Draco a bit more so she could reach his arm better. And as she took his wrist from her middle and held it between her own, she tried to examine the elegant chain. Hermione touched it again with her fingers, the movement seemed to cause it to glow just the slightest bit. How strange.
But as she began to pull his wrist even further around her, she felt Draco stiffen. Hermione immediately dropped his hand, pulling away as the boy sat up and winced.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
He was frowning down at her. “What was that?”
“I . . . I saw you were wearing a bracelet, and . . .” Hermione bit her lip, trying to come up with an explanation that wasn’t weird. “I touched it. Sorry, I don’t know why I—”
“Bracelet?” He asked, looking confused. “I don’t wear a . . .” Draco trailed off as she pointed to the elegant gold chain. His eyes widened for a moment. “Oh.”
He seemed genuinely startled by the presence of the bracelet and stared at it for a few moments.
“Is it not yours?” She asked eventually. “Maybe someone managed to slip it on or something as a prank. It does cause a weird feeling when you touch it.” Hermione frowned at the bracelet, “What if it’s been hexed?”
When she looked up at Draco he was still watching the chain, but his expression had relaxed and he shook his head. “No, it’s mine.”
“Oh, it is?” Hermione thought about it, shifting toward his wrist where Draco’s other hand was now turning it over. “Did you forget you were wearing it?”
“Yes,” He smiled slightly, Godric he’s got a nice smile. “My mum gave it to me when I was little. It’s supposed to grow with age. She said it belonged to my . . .” Draco didn’t finish and when he looked at her his eyes were wide. “She said it was my . . .” He trailed off again and there was a strange look on his face that made Hermione concerned.
“What?” She frowned, taking his hand between hers and examining the small chain. “Draco, she said it was your what?”
“I can’t remember, Hermione.” His other arm ran through his hair, and he closed his eyes tightly.
“Draco? Are you okay?” She sat up, trying to pull him towards her but Draco shook his head, he looked like he was in pain and Hermione hated it.
“She said—but I don’t . . . it couldn’t . . .” Draco sputtered out a series of nonsensical sentences that only served to make Hermione worry more. Nothing he was saying made any sort of sense and she couldn't even try to piece together what he meant.
“Draco, look at me.” Hermione then attempted to pull him out of the spiral, she was growing nervous. Truthfully, she didn't actually think there was anything normal about not realizing you were wearing a gold bracelet, and Draco's confusion over where it came from only added to the issue. But obviously, that line of thought would probably be considered unhelpful at that moment, so Hermione tried to placate him as best she could. “It was probably hers and she gave it to you. Or it could’ve been your father's.”
Draco flinched then, but Hermione wasn't sure why. She pulled his hand closer to her and moved towards him.
“No.” He shook his head and Hermione squeezed his hand. “He would never.”
“Okay . . .” She tried to control her curiosity and concern at that reaction. She was reminded of what Professor Moody had said though and decided it wasn’t the proper time. “Well, that’s okay. It can just be your bracelet.”
“No.” He protested, his face was pinched now and Hermione had no idea what was happening in his head, but she was fairly certain he was doing something from his level of concentration. “She said it was my . . .” After more than a minute had passed of silence, Draco’s eyes opened and locked on hers. “She said it was my . . . uncle's.”
Hermione was quite sure his skin was several shades paler and he seemed to be breathing heavy, much less the words he’d just spoken.
“Draco?”
“Uncle's.” He repeated. “The bracelet was my uncle's.”
“Your. . .” She frowned. What did he mean?
“Yes.” He nodded. Hermione realized his forehead was sweaty and his gaze looked far away.
“Draco, you’re . . . are you okay?” She asked, wanting desperately to wrap her arms around him in comfort, but afraid that might overwhelm him. Hermione hadn't known Draco Malfoy for very long, but for as long as she had known him, he'd appeared to be a relatively reserved person. Even when he seemed happy, there was always an element of control about him. The stress he was displaying now made her nervous.
“I have an uncle.” He whispered.
Hermione nodded and spoke slowly. “Yes, I know.”
“No.” Draco told her, “I have an uncle.” He shook his head in emphasis as if she didn't understand—Hermione was certain she really didn't.
“Draco, we've met him.” She told him anyway.
His eyes went impossibly wider at that and he grabbed her hands. “Hermione, I— do you think he was . . . ?”
“What?” She tried to understand, but mind reading was not a skill she'd yet to master. "Do I think he was what?"
“Telling the truth?”
“What?” This time, she blanched and sat up straighter. “Draco, what do you mean?”
“I mean . . .he said he knew me.” The wizard spoke carefully, as though he was solving a riddle.
“He probably did.” Hermione told him, but her answer did nothing to relax him. In fact, this time Draco sat up straight and grabbed her hands between his.
“Hermione, why don’t I know him?”
“Huh?”
“Why didn’t I remember this bracelet?” He twisted his wrist and shook his head again. “Why didn’t I remember her telling me that? She said—” Draco’s eyes shut tightly again in concentration and Hermione grabbed his hand. “She said, this is from me . . . and your uncle.”
“What?”
“She said it was—it was your uncles until he . . .”
“Until he, what?”
Draco’s eyes opened again. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I—I can hear her voice. I can hear her and then she’s gone.”
“Your mum?”
“Yes.”
This time it was her who shook her head. “How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know, Hermione.” He sounded exasperated and pulled his hands away, shaking. Draco pushed his fists into his eyes and repeated, “I don’t know."
None of this was making any sense. And being Hermione Granger meant that she was naturally curious, even more so when there was some kind of mystery involved. Being best friends with Harry Potter had only made her more so. But as she looked at the anxiety growing on Draco's face, Hermione decided she didn't care about answering questions or solving mysteries.
“Okay.” She told him. Hermione moved so she could grab his forearms from him and pull them towards her. Draco’s face was pinched in pain again and it gutted her. “It’s okay.”
“What?” he asked.
“It’s fine.” She shook her head slightly, smiling when he looked at her. “It doesn’t really matter anyway.”
“But—”
“It’s a nice bracelet. That’s why I tried to play with it. And it generates some kind of good aura so I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”
“But what—”
Hermione cut him off again. She was the queen of handling stress, and yet somehow Draco’s expression made even her feel overwhelmed. “We’ll figure it out. Next time we see him, we’ll ask whatever we need to.”
“See him?” He frowned.
“Regulus. Or you can write to your mum.” She shrugged.
“I can’t.”
“What?”
“Write about it to her.”
“Why not?”
“Because my—” Draco paused, considering as he bit his lip. He seemed to decide against sharing and for some reason that made Hermione disappointed. “I can’t.”
“Oh.”
His face fell again clearly filled with worry and regret and Hermione’s heart clenched for him.
“Don’t think that I . . .it’s not that I don’t want t—"
“No, Draco, it’s fine. We’re fine.” She told him. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“But I—” He swallowed.
“It’s okay.” Hermione put a smile on her face and pulled his hand to her. “Tell me what you want, when you want. Not a moment before. I’ll be here.”
Hermione had only seen a small number of emotions on Draco Malfoy’s face; Worry, fear, anger, and happiness she had become acquainted with all of them. But as Draco’s eyes met hers now, that emotion was a brand new one: hope.
“You will?” He asked, going completely still except for his eyes which were searching hers.
“Yes.” She didn’t even know what she was agreeing to. Perhaps though this was exactly what Theo and Harry had meant. That Draco wasn’t going to just forget about her. Whatever it was, whatever was uncertain, whatever they didn’t understand, as Hermione looked up at the boy in front of her, she found herself smiling. “Yes, I will.”
Still holding his hand, she looked down and placed a soft kiss on the tips of his fingers. She chuckled to herself at how odd of an action it was, but it still felt like the right one.
When she looked up Draco was watching his hand in hers, and for some reason his eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue. Hermione was just about to ask him about it when he looked up and she was distracted. Because when their eyes met Draco smiled. He smiled wide, and brilliantly and Hermione smiled back.
Until out of no where Draco jumped up to stand.
“What?” Hermione asked, turning as he held out a hand. He pulled her up with him then.
“Fuck.” Was all he said, the word was barely breathed, and Hermione laughed.
“Draco, what’s wrong?” She said as he worried his lip, looking at her.
“You’re perfect.”
“What?” Well, she certainly hadn’t expected him to say that.
“I—I’m going to mess this up.” He almost stammered.
“Draco,” Hermione started. “No, you won’t.”
“I might.”
“We’re fourth years. I think there’ll be time to fix it.”
“Right.” He nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Yeah,” Laughter ensued from her, and probably a little too much of her own self-doubt. “I think this’ll be rather low stakes for you.”
Draco didn’t roll her eyes. He didn’t tell her to shut up, or to stop fishing—something she’d had the misfortune of hearing boys in her year say to other girls before. Instead his face got serious and he looked almost angry. “On the contrary, I think it might be the highest stakes of my life.”
Hermione was quite certain if you showed a photo of a tomato next to one of her face in that moment, there would be little difference.
“Oh.” Her stupid brain said.
“Yeah.” He said. And then he had the gall to lean forward and place his lips on her forehead. Wait—fuck. No. That sounds weird. Well, this is fucking weird. Except it was also kind of nice because he was tall enough that it pushed Hermione into his chest/neck region which meant she had a great deal to smell there. And then it was over and he pulled away and Hermione came to the startling realization that Draco Malfoy had just kissed her forehead.
She didn’t think anyone had ever done that before—well, except maybe her dad. Sometimes Harry or Ron kissed her on the cheek when she’d do something nice, like their homework for them. But Draco just kissed her on the forehead and she definitely didn’t think it was the same thing.
It was a rather startling thing to have happen. Even more startling to realize that she was sad it was over. For those too short seconds she’d gotten an incredibly strong wave of him and the soft sweater he wore and Hermione hadn’t wanted it to end.
Which was the only possible explanation for what she did next. Hermione was confident she’d lost her mind in fact, as she jumped forward and wrapped her arms around Draco’s middle. For a moment she was sure she’d probably messed it up with her weird and definitely creepy notice of him. But then Draco’s arms wrapped right around her as well and they stood there together, in the astronomy tower, just hugging for a while. In fact, Draco never tried to release her, and Hermione wondered if he would have let her hug him all night, if it weren’t for her pulling away when it was almost curfew.
---- ---- ---- ---- ----
When Draco pushed open the door to their dorm room, he found his brother writing something. Theo set down his quill when he noticed him though and frowned.
“What happened?”
“Hmm?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.
“You’re smiling.” He said, his face looking distrustful.
“I am?” Draco didn’t think he was. He checked and his face was in its usual scowl. “What are you on?”
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not smiling.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “Mate, I’ve known you all our lives. You don’t have a normal smile. And as one of the few people who have had the misfortune of seeing it, trust me when I say, I know when you’re smiling.” He paused for a second before his eyes went wide and he straightened on his chair to face Draco. “What’d my sister do?”
“Your sister?” He feigned innocence.
“Yes. You were with her. What happened?”
And fuck the Draco of a few months ago who kept everything to himself because it was safer. Because that Draco didn’t know what it was like when Hermione/Emmeline kissed your hand and told you she wouldn’t leave you. So, he smiled like he meant to and looked at his best friend. “She hugged me.”
“What?” Theo frowned. “She hugs us both all the time. She hugs Harry—”
“No.” He shook his head. Potter didn’t get to share this. “She hugged me.”
“Okay,” He said slowly.
“I—Hermione may have told me she wasn’t going anywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
“She’s not going to leave me.”
“Oh,” He almost grinned. “Well, funny st—”
“No.” Draco didn’t need to know yet, he had to get this out. “She told me she wasn’t going to leave. And I kissed her.”
Theo’s eyes went wide in horror and his face became angry. “You did what?” He snapped.
“On the forehead.” He jumped to add and his friend looked to calm down. “Shite. On the forehead. I’m not an idiot.” Draco defended.
If anyone knew the rules of proper society, it was the Malfoy heir. He would have to be barking mad to risk breaking them and his father finding out. Fuck, his spine practically stung at the thought of what might happen if he did.
“Oh, good.” Theo muttered, shaking his head.
“Yes, trust me, I’m aware.”
“Okay, so she hugged you and you kissed her forehead.”
“Yes, after I kissed her, I thought we were leaving. I was just about to ask if I could walk her back to her common room when she hugged me.”
“Oh,” His voice was soft and he smiled at Draco. “So she hugged you.”
“And I think she smelled me.” He said without thinking before blanching at his own words. “Wait, no—”
“She smelled you?” Theo looked appalled. “Mate, I think you’re just stroking your ego at this point.”
“No, I’m serious.” Draco argued, offended by the notion. It wasn’t weird to him, which was probably because he tended to smell her as well every time she was around. Fuck, it was usually distracting. “I’m telling you, she smelled me.”
“Come here.” He said, still frowning.
“What?”
“I want to smell you.”
“Theo, no. That’s gross.”
“Well, I’ve got to make sure your not emitting some kind of love potion or something because, why the hell would she smell you?”
“Maybe I smell good?” He suggested.
Theo shook his head and stood. “I doubt it. Get over here.”
“No you’re being weird.”
“Fine. I’ll move.” And Draco would like to say he tried to walk away, but he was also slightly curious as to what Theo would say— they were twins, surely his opinion would be similar to hers, right? Wrong. Theo walked up and gave the most over the top sniff that had Draco rolling his eyes and Theo smirking.
“Well?” He asked when his brother grimaced.
“You smell like shite.”
“No.” Draco said. “Next try.”
“Dog shite.”
“No.”
“Fine. It’s er, you smell like you’ve been outside all day.”
“I have been. You have to walk outside to go back and forth to the boat.”
“Yeah, well, sorry mate. Not sure why she would smell you. Unless she was like grossed out.”
“You think?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t know. I don’t speak girl.”
“She’s your sister!” Draco threw a hand out and Theo’s glare turned sharp.
“And I know her about as well as you do. I’m sorry I can’t offer insights into her, but if you’ve forgotten, up until last month I thought I was an orphan whose only sibling was dead.” He spoke slowly which only made the point hurt more.
“Theo, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”
“Whatever.” He turned and stalked back to his desk.
“Theo,”
“It’s fine.”
“It's not, but I wasn’t going to ask about that.”
He turned slightly and raised a brow in answer.
“How’s Potter?” Draco asked playfully. He'd known the two were meeting on their own with increasing frequency but he hadn't yet had the chance to ask questions. It appeared though, that he should have, because if the bright red blush that formed across Theo's face was anything to go by, things were progressing. "No!" Draco couldn't have helped it if his jaw dropped at his brother's blanche, causing loads of ideas to form in his head over what that could mean. "Theodore Apollo fucking Nott, have you make a move on Harry Potter?!"
“No!” He said loudly, throwing up two hands in protest. If it was possible, his face got brighter as he shook his head. “No, I didn't make a move.” he made a expression as if the idea was plain absurd and Draco couldn't help but smirk.
“So what’s that look for?”
“There’s no look.”
“What was it you said about hideously unfortunate smiles and being forced to know them?”
“I didn’t say anything about hideous smiles.” He grumbled.
“Well, obviously I had to change it for you.”
“Shut up.”
“So, Potter?”
“He’s funny.”
“He’s funny?”
“He’s a good friend.”
“Next.” Draco drawled and Theo glared.
“Shut up. He cares about Hermione.”
“Obviously.” He at least conceded. “Okay, points for that one.”
“You can’t do points.” Theo said sitting up further, but Draco didn't care. He'd never seen his brother show the slightest bit of fancy towards someone and he would be damned if he didn't make sure the person deserved him.
“I’m doing points.”
“I didn’t do points for you!”
Draco gave him a look, “You’re going to rank your own sister’s worthiness of me based on a shitty point system?”
“Fine. I hate you.”
“Obviously.”
“We’d have been better off if you’d mated with someone else.” He said and Draco grimaced.
“Don’t say mated, that’s fucking weird, Thee.”
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to call it?”
“Fallen for?”
“You barely know her.”
“But I think I am.”
Theo paused, the slightest smile forming on his face when he said, “I’m glad.”
“Me too.” Draco's smile was small, but there as he thought of his time with Hermione not even an hour ago. After a moment, he walked over to his desk and was about to put away his books when he realized. “Oh fuck no, you distracted me!”
Theo’s eyebrows flew up from where he'd gone back to working. “What?”
“Potter. Talk.” Draco told him.
“I did talk.”
“Not about why you were smiling.”
“I told you, he’s nice.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“He likes Hermione.”
“He gets less points for that the more you use it.” Draco said, throwing the bag down on his chair. He smirked when Theo jumped at the threat.
“No, wait! I—I fixed his glasses.”
That made Draco pause. “Were they broken?”
“No.”
“So how’d you fix them?” He watched his friend carefully.
“Well, they didn’t fit him.”
“So?”
“And he mentioned the other day that his family kind of sucks.”
“Okay?”
“So they’ve never cared to by him proper ones.”
“How does that work?”
“I don’t know. But—but he’s a wizard.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Iboughthimanewpairofglasses.”
“Sorry?” Draco had no idea what had just come out of his mouth.
“I bought him a new pair of glasses.” Theo said slowly and Draco’s eyes bulged.
“You did?!”
“Yeah,”
“Did he ask you to?”
“No.”
“So you just . . .wait," Draco held up a hand "what did you do?”
“Um . . .” Theo wouldn't not look at him as he stared at the floor and Draco's smirk returned at his nerves.
“Theo, spit it out.”
“I bought him a pair of magical glasses.”
“Magical glasses? That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.” He mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“Well, I—you’ve heard how Hermione complains about his aunt and uncle. And they’re horrible! Draco, they beat him and don’t feed him and lock him up in his room for days on end and . . .”
He trailed off when he noticed Draco’s grimace. Not that the words were too close to home. Draco was luckier than Potter and he knew it. He had his mother, he had Theo, and he may have had an uncle he couldn’t remember. Draco filed the last one away to worry about later.
When he saw Theo’s look of horror, he pulled out his trusty occlumency and worked to put up at least a few walls. It was harder to do having expensed so much energy on whatever block hard been set earlier around his memory. But he only needed a few walls, just enough to help him block out the reminders of home and keep his face traight.
“Fuck.”
“It’s fine.” Draco told him. How ironic was it that his father had made him so similar to the chosen one?
“Draco,”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.” Draco rolled his shoulders, trying to brush off the moment. After a few seconds his walls set and he succeeded. “So, you made him glasses?”
Theo winced, but answered despite the obvious hesitation in his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“And they’re somehow magical?”
“They’ll adjust to whatever kind of sight you need based on your particular eye set. All you have to do is wear them.”
Fascinating. “So if you or I put them on?”
“They’d be clear and just a piece of glass.”
“But when Potter does it?”
“For Harry, they’ll adjust to whatever level his eyes need.”
“And you made them?”
“Well, I bought the glasses and charmed them.”
“Theo, that’s a hell of a fucking charm.” Draco told him, truly impressed.
His face was the color of a tomato. “I wanted him to see properly.”
“Fucking hell.” He groaned. Draco didn't know whether to commemorate his friend’s genius, or go threaten Potter’s life if he let him down. Theo deserved the fucking world. He didn’t know whether Potter was worthy, but looking at the excitement in his best friend’s eyes, Draco really hoped he would try.
“What?”
“Too bloody nice. You'd get all the points if I was counting for Potter.”
“Shut up." he grinned. "And well, we can’t all be grumpy arseholes, now can we?”
Draco raised a mocking brow. “I’d like to remind you that up until a few weeks ago you were just as much of a grumpy arsehole as I was.”
“Yeah, but now I’m a delight.”
“You’re alright.”
“Hey, you were smiling earlier, Draco.” He pointed out and Draco grinned. Fuck, he couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t anymore.
“Yeah, I was.”
“She hugged you.”
“Yeah, she hugged me.”