Chapter 31
Draco barely had time to process what was happening as his feet and self were practically dragged along the polished stone floors of the Great Hall as Severus Snape pulled him out of the room. His godfather’s grip was ironclad, his long fingers clamped tightly around Draco’s arm with an authority that left no room for protest. Though, in his defence, Draco wasn’t sure he even had enough understanding of the situation to be able to protest. He was far too unsettled by the collective gaze of hundreds of students and staff currently boring into him like needles to generate an argument. It wasn’t until the grand doors slammed behind them, silencing the murmurs and voices that he felt he could even think.
Draco’s chest heaved, his mind racing. What the bloody fuck had just happened? He didn’t think even seconds had passed between it all. One moment, everything had been normal—or as normal as things ever were for Draco Malfoy—and the next, people had been clawing at him. Their literal hands, their eyes, the overwhelming desperation in their movements were suffocating. Draco felt he couldn’t breathe with the way people were staring at him. One girl had grabbed him by the tie—she actually grabbed him by his tie, and Draco had felt helpless as she’d tried to force him down before Theo pulled her away.
It made him sick. The rapid movements and everyone staring. He hadn’t known what to do, and the only thing he hadn’t been unnerved by had been Hermione…at first. She’d looked at him normally when he walked in, and Draco hoped that meant she had not noticed how off he was the night before. But then he’d been pulled on and everything went to shit, and when his eyes found hers across the hall at the end it had been terrible. Her face, wide-eyed, horrified, and utterly confused, had gaped at him too as his godfather pulled him out. She’d looked at him as if there was something wrong with him and it made Draco worry that there was.
His legs felt weak, as though they might give way at any moment despite their brisk pace. His skin prickled as though electricity lingered just beneath the surface. Draco clenched his fists, trying to steady himself, but the effort was futile. Panic churned in his stomach, mixing with fury. He hated feeling this way: vulnerable, shaken, and out of control. And to make matters worse, Severus bloody Snape was dragging him through the castle like a misbehaving child.
After descending the fourth staircase as Draco fought not to fall repeatedly behind him, Draco’s patience with the man gave up.
“Severus,” Draco hissed, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady. “Stop that now and let go of me! What the hell is going on!”
The potions master’s pace did not falter for a moment. His dark eyes remained locked ahead, his jaw set in a grim line. “Silence, Draco. Not now.”
Draco gritted his teeth, a fresh wave of anger surging through him. Who in Salazar’s name did this man think he was? Draco opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Severus pulled out his wand and a hole appeared in the wall beside them. The man did not say a word before moving through into a dark room and throwing Draco down with little ceremony. For a second, he braced for impact, knowing he wouldn’t be able to catch himself on the expected floor, but surprised when instead, something soft landed beneath him and Draco thought he might be on a sort of couch.
He heard the door slam shut behind them and could feel the air crackling faintly as Snape layered the space with locking and silencing charms. The tension in the room was nearly as overwhelming as the dark, though his professor quickly snapped on a light.
Draco wasted no time before shoving himself upwards.
“What the bloody FUCK is wrong with you?!” Draco demanded. His heart pounding in his ears, and his temper well passed its boiling point. His breaths were coming in sharp busts as he glared at the older wizard’s back.
When Snape turned to face him, his expression was cold and unreadable. “Mr. Malfoy, do you have any idea of the trouble you have just caused me?”
“Trouble? That I caused you. No. You answer me. Here, I’ll ask you again, in case you forgot. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? Clearly this entire blasted school is having some sort of psychotic break, but why the fuck did everyone decide to do so around me and what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Watch your tongue with me Draco. Your mother would be most unpleased to—”
“DON’T YOU DARE.” Draco shouted, stepping closer with fury. His hands were trembling as he glared directly into Severus’s eyes. “Don’t you even dare speak of my mother. Not to me. Not while you’re—”
He faltered, not even knowing why he was so shaken, but feeling it in every single bone. Draco liked having control. It was the only thing that made him safe. At school he always held a moderate amount. But he was beginning to understand that no one in England would ever allow him the decency of control over himself, not even those who promised him it.
“Not after you decided to drag me around the entire damned school like a fucking dog. I am not an animal nor a doll for you to play with, Severus. Now tell me what the fuck just happened? Why did you do that—you knew. I know you knew. You used that spell and cleared everyone away like a fucking banshee. What was it?”
Snape’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “Does your arrogance really know no bounds, Draco? Can you not possibly understand a situation where somethings are more important—Do you even realize the danger you just put both yourself and everyone in that room in—”
“For fuckssake! I walked in the fucking room, and everything went to shit. Pardon me if I don’t quite see how the hell that’s my fault.” Draco snapped, his eyes sharp on his godfather’s. “Or how exactly my very attempt to get a bloody meal would endanger the entire population.”
“Because it is your fault, and if you cared to be quiet for just a single second of your life you might know why.”
“How dare—”
“Draco Lucius Malfoy, I swear to Merlin that you’re going to be quiet right now. You’re going to be quiet and you’re going to listen to me, because what I am about to tell you can never leave this room if you want to get your fucking answers.”
“Oh joy! He begins with the cryptic nonsense—”
“As I was saying. If you’d like to not look like a complete fool for the rest of your life, than you are going to swear an oath of secrecy to me now before we continue.” Snape’s voice cracked like a whip, freezing Draco mid-protest. “You will not speak of this to anyone. Not to your friends, not to your headmaster. No one.”
“No.” Draco gritted; his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His heart pounded, and his mind was reeling with all the chaos of the morning. The thought of swearing an oath on his magic that bound him to secrecy even without it all was absurd.
“Draco—”
“Absolutely not. Do you take me for a fool? Why would I ever swear to anything without knowing on what I am gambling.”
“Yes, I do. And because I am telling you to.”
“I will not!” Draco shouted, his voice cracking with frustration and desperation. “How could you ever ask me of that? You know exactly who I am and what my responsibilities are. I will not blindly promise secrecy to something I do not know anything about. If anything were to happen to me, there are others who would face a far greater impact than even myself. If you expect me to ever walk into a promise without the confidence of Theo, you have me very much mistaken.”
For a moment, Snape was silent. His piercing gaze bore into Draco, scrutinising him as though weighing his worth. Draco forced himself to hold the man’s stare, his shoulders squared despite the tremor in his hands. At last, Snape inclined his head slightly, though his expression remained as severe as ever.
“Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “Lord Nott, and no one else.”
Draco exhaled sharply, the tension in his chest easing ever so slightly. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a compromise he could accept. And, if he were honest, the vow might even work in his favour. Depending on what Snape wanted to tell him, a vow could shield the information from legilimency and Veritaserum, from those who might wish to take advantage.
“Deal,” Draco said, his voice steadier now.
Severus stepped forward then, extending his hand. Draco hesitated for a moment before clasping it firmly. The other wizard raised his wand, pressing its tip to the point where their fingers met. Their magic stirred, a palpable force that hummed with latent power between them. Snape spoke the words of the vow with meticulous precision, and Draco repeated them, his tone weighted with reluctant acceptance.
“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do solemnly swear on the magic within me, never to reveal the content of anything said or shown to me by Severus Snape on this day, except in confidence to Lord Theodore Caspian-Thoros Nott, until the day in which all unseen becomes seen again,” Draco recited, his voice steady despite the weight of the words.
As the oath solidified, Draco expected Snape to release him. Instead, the man’s grip tightened, and his dark eyes locked onto Draco’s with unsettling intensity once more.
“This will also encompass any of that which is shown to me by Regulus Arcturus Black,” Snape added, his voice low and implacable.
Draco’s breath hitched. Regulus Black? The name sent a jolt through him. Severus knew about him. But why was he relevant to what was happening to him that morning? And how did Snape expect Draco to gain any information from his supposed uncle, unless…
Draco nodded stiffly. “Fine.” Repeating the oath as he eyed his godfather carefully. Snape knew something, that much had been obvious, but Draco found himself drawn to the idea of learning anything knew that he could from the man about his uncle.
The magic flared briefly before settling between them, the vow complete. Severus released immediately and stepped back. Draco flexed his fingers; the lingering weight of the promise was practically a physical presence in the air of the room.
“Follow me.” Snape instructed, his tone sharp and low.
“Where are we going?” Draco asked, even as he moved to comply.
Instead of answering, Severus lifted his wand and waved it at the fireplace across the room. Green flames erupted with a roar, casting flickering shadows against the walls. Then he took hold of Draco’s arm, once again pulling him. This time into the hearth of his fireplace. With a swift hand, Draco watched the man grab a pinch of powder and throw it down without releasing his tight hold.
“the kasteel” Snape said quietly. Before Draco could voice the torrent of questions in his mind, the world dissolved into a vortex of emerald flames.
*~*~*~*~*
It took Draco’s eyes several moments to adjust to the bright light of the room, though his stomach twisted in recognition the moment they did. Draco’s fists clenched at the realization and his eyes quickly traced over every inch of the room he could see. They were back in the same house he’d visited all those months ago. The one where he and Hermione had woken up to find themselves taken by a man they’d never seen. The man who claimed to be his uncle.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Draco muttered, his grey eyes narrowing as he turned on Snape. At least he’d thought they’d talk. His godfather would have an explanation on his uncle and the nauseous feeling in his stomach would disappear. At most he’d feared that Regulus might have been there at the castle. Not once did he consider that he might be taken out of the castle and here against his will—again. “Why the hell are we here? Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you needed answers, and we needed to talk.”
“Answers?” Draco barked a laugh, though there was no humour in it. “I asked you why the fuck everyone decided to lose their damned minds this morning. Pardon me if I don’t see how that meant you should bring me to the home of an insane person.”
Before Snape could respond, a voice called from some adjoining room. “Severus? Is that you?”
Draco’s head snapped toward the doorway at the noise. His eyes shooting daggers as Regulus Black entered the room. The wizard’s expression brightened for a fleeting moment when his eyes landed on Draco, though he watched as it was covered almost immediately. Instead, it quickly shifted to wariness as he took in the younger wizard’s tense posture.
“Draco,” Regulus said, his tone tentative but warm. “It’s good to see you again.”
Draco’s lip curled in disdain. “I wish I could say the same.” he hissed, his voice rising. “What the hell are you doing?”
Regulus frowned, his gaze darting to Snape in confusion. “Severus, what is going on?”
Snape sighed, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Enough,” he said sharply, as though he’d not even heard Draco’s questions or seen his glare. “Sit down, both of you. Today is not a day with time for either of your dramatics.”
Draco wrenched his shoulder away, glaring at his godfather. “I’m not sitting anywhere until someone explains why you dragged me here. And why,” he pointed at Regulus, “he is involved in any of this.”
“Because he can help,” Snape said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now sit.”
Draco hesitated, his body tense, but the weight of Snape’s gaze eventually made him relent. He dropped into the furthest chair slowly, leaving his arms at the ready and his wand armed in his palm.
Regulus followed suit, his movements similar, though significantly more cautious than suspicious like Draco’s. He glanced at Snape again, his brows furrowed. “Severus, what happened?”
Snape exhaled through his nose, his expression grim. “There was an incident this morning. In the Great Hall.”
Regulus’s frown deepened. “What kind of incident?”
Draco stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped.
“Draco—” Snape began, but the younger wizard cut him off.
“No! I don’t know why I’m here, or what you’ve done or why you’ve brought me. But I was raised to not trust criminals and forgive me if I’m wrong, but kidnapping is a crime. He shouldn’t be here and neither should we.” Draco said, his voice rising with each word.
Regulus’s expression flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned his attention back to Snape. “What happened?” he asked again, his tone more insistent this time.
Snape’s gaze flicked between the two men before he finally answered. “He walked into the Great Hall and the entire room was immediately entranced on Draco.” he said. “Unnaturally so. It was as if every gaze was drawn to him…compelled automatically. I was able to remove him from the room before things escalated but—”
Snape paused at the indignant scoff Draco gave. Before they escalated, what the fuck did Snape feel qualified as escalation if this morning hadn’t been it?
“But,” His sneer was pointed. “There is no way it was not taken severe not of.”
“Compelled.” Regulus murmured and Draco turned to watch him. His eyes widened slightly as he and Snape seemed to communicate silently. Something appeared to have been settled between the two before he leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. “So, you think it’s done?”
“I’m telling you it is.” He answered cryptically.
“Good.”
“Good?” Draco had never heard Snape sound so surprised before, and he was a little dumbstruck by the occasion. “Do enlighten me as to how this is a good thing.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “Well obviously I wouldn’t say it’s a good thing. Certainly, it is not an ideal occasion, but we can’t do anything about it now, so we must move forward. I’m trying to be positive.”
“How about you try to be realistic.” Snape gritted through his teeth; Draco felt like he was watching some kind of fast chess match. “I’ve got a castle full of pubescent teenagers acting like uncivilized animals and if you think the Parkinson wench isn’t running off to daddy as we speak, you’re wrong.”
Regulus appeared to have sobered, his shoulders slouching half an inch. “How long do we have?”
“Until He knows? Less than four hours. Get me a plan Regulus so we can fix this.” He waved a hand in Draco’s direction and the wizard felt his hackles rise.
“Fix—” Draco tried to break in.
“It’s not that simple.” Regulus never gave him the chance to speak. “You can’t just fix it. These things take time.”
Draco's eyes volleyed between them in confusion. “Time for—”
“You said there was a potion.” Snape glared over him.
“Did you say Potion?!” Still, no one would listen to him and Draco was reaching the end of his patiences quickly.
“No. I said, ‘wouldn’t it be great if there was a potion and then we wouldn’t have to worry about our fucking veelas ruining everything?’ I never once told you there was a potion.”
“VEELAS?! What the bloody hell is going on?” Draco cursed.
“NOT NOW.” Both wizards snapped in his direction.
“What!” He tried again, it was as though they were pretending he wasn't there.
“If there’s no fucking potion, what the hell am I supposed to do with him?”
Draco scoffed in horror. “With me?!”
“I’d imagine just the same as always. It should die down in a couple days so long as no one really notices the changes.”
“That’s. Not. Possible.” Snape snapped.
Regulus shrugged casually as though he wasn’t speaking in fucking riddles. “It was for me.”
“Need I remind you of the vast differences between your circumstances?”
“No. I’m well aware of them. I’m just saying—”
“I’M JUST SAYING SOMEONE NEEDS TO START TALKING.” Draco shouted, standing up now between the two men. “RIGHT NOW.”
“Draco—” Regulus began with a sigh, but Draco did not even give him the chance to deny him.
“NO. Clearly you both are aware of what the fuck has happened and why it’s happening since neither of you seems particularly alarmed. But I don’t. I’m in the dark on whatever the hell this is, and it stops now. No more riddles or metaphors or creatures. What the fuck is happening to me and why did I get attacked in the Great Hall?”
“I—” The wizard began again, stopping himself as he looked over at Snape. Draco didn’t bother checking what he was seeing, it was becoming clearer that if he was going to get information right now, it would not be from his godfather. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, I think I’ve figured that out for myself.”
“Right.” His gulp was audible in the quiet room as he looked down at the floor. “Draco…you’re a veela.”
Draco frowned; confident he'd heard wrong. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re a veela.”
“A veela.” Draco repeated, staring at the man’s head when he wouldn’t look up.
“Yes. I know it’s not what you’d expect but—”
“Is this a fucking joke?” Draco demanded. “I ask you for honesty and you decide to mock me? Sure, let’s take the fucking piss out of the uncomfortable wizard. Make ourselves feel clever by laughing at his gullibility? Fucking bullshit from you both!”
“No, it’s—it’s not a joke. It’s real. I’m telling you. I wouldn’t lie to you, I’m—”
“Oh sure, it’s the truth. I’m a fucking half breed, a mistake to wizarding kind.” Draco scoffed. “Good on you for figuring it out. What bitch must’ve polluted the Malfoy lines to bring us here—”
“Don’t.” Regulus snapped, finally looking Draco in the eyes. “Don’t do that. You don’t want to do that. Draco, I’m telling you. Don’t say something you won’t mean, and you’ll regret.”
“Right.” He told him with a sneer. “I won’t believe it. Because it’s not fucking true.”
“It is true.” Regulus paused for a moment. Draco rolled his eyes as he watched the man try to straighten his appearance. “It is true Draco, and I can prove it to you because I’m one too.”
“You’re one too?” He mocked.
“Yes. I am. I was born a veela and I’ve been one since.”
“Oh, I’m sure they must love that then. The great Black family line, Toujours Pur. The purest of the pure—tainted. No. Because if you were you'd keep that a secret and we both know it. Veela blood would ruin the line entirely. You would be removed from the Sacred 28. No respectable house would willingly marry such filth. It would be idiotic for anyone to go around telling random outsiders that you're...” Draco trailed off each word as he heard them, and the man’s defensiveness registered. But you wouldn't be a random outsider, would you? You'd be a direct relation, and if Regulus is really Orion's son then that would mean you're... “No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.” Draco protested again, stepping back.
“Draco,” Regulus stood from his chair, “Look—”
“No. Absolutely not. There’s no way. That’s—I’m—it’s not. I can’t be. That’s not how it works. Veelas—veelas are female.”
“No, not always.”
“Yes, they are. I’ve read the books. I understand the literature. Class three magical creatures. They’re French. Female. Fucking feathers growing up their ass.” He sneered in disgust.
“Right.” Regulus winced, looking slightly grossed out by Draco’s assessment. “Definitely the reliable literature on it to be sure. Except that it’s probably not, because that is just…definitely not.”
Draco hesitated, his breath coming in quickly as he stared at the man. For a second, his silver eyes flicked to Snape for help, except when he did, the professor gave Draco a subtle nod that made him freeze. He looked around. Waited. Then when nothing nefarious happened immediately, he crossed his arms in his lap.
“What do you mean?” He asked with visible reluctance.
“I mean, that male veelas are real. They do exist. Though not in many textbooks, and certainly in none of the ones that could be found here. People tend to phase out the chapters on creatures that are said to have gone extinct over four hundred years ago.” He took a deep breath. “However, very rarely does 'what's said' actually equate to what is real. Have you ever noticed something within that feels slightly...strange, Draco?”
Draco stared at him, “What?”
“Like with your magic. Do you ever get a strange feeling through the tips of your fingers to the bottoms of your toes and into the bones on your back?”
Draco didn’t answer for a moment. His mind whirling as he tried to understand both where this speech was going and whether what he was feeling was true. After a while, he nodded silently.
“All right,” Regulus said, his tone softening slightly. “Good. That’s—that’s good. That’s good.” He nodded to himself. “And—and you’ve felt this your whole life?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Right.” He stood, seeming to process that information—though for what purpose, Draco had no idea. Had he ever felt a strange sensation in his magic? Every day. Or, he was guessing? Draco couldn't be sure because although he thought he may have understood, he also did not at all. His imbalance in magic was the result of Emmeline, wasn't?
“And—and your, your hair.” Regulus seemed oblivious to Draco's turmoil. His voice quickly shaking him to attention as he waved a hand at Draco's head.
He reached up to palm at the unusually long strands and frowned. He'd forgotten in all the chaos since breakfast that his hair had decided to take such a rebellion that day. “What about it?”
“It’s different.”
“So?”
“I—is it new? Or have you always had that? It was similar when you were young, I remember. But, but the other da—last time.” He corrected when Draco’s expression sharpened at the mention of the other day, or the last time they’d seen each other. “It was different. It was shorter, and you, you had it straight. Like your father’s.”
“Right.” He muttered.
“So, did you do it? Were you the one to change it, or did it happen on its own?”
Draco stopped for a moment. He wasn’t sure why he felt hesitant to answer that question, but he did. Regulus was looking at him expectantly, as if whatever he said next would make some kind of difference. But then he had no other answer to the man’s demands, so Draco was honest.
“On its own.” He told him.
“Beautiful.” He whispered. Draco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He felt like he’d given enough and wanted someone else to start sharing. After a minute had passed, Regulus seemed to understand. He began, his voice patient. “The compulsion Snape described it, how people were drawn to you this morning…it’s a thing. It is known as a glamour to those who understand it.” He must’ve noticed Draco’s eyes look down towards his hidden scars. “Oh, not quite. Not quite like that. This kind of glamour is different. It’s unique to only the veela. And rare to ever occur at all.”
“What does it do?”
Regulus nodded, leaning forward slightly. “It’s meant to call to your mate. The Veela glamour… it’s a manifestation of your magic reaching out, trying to bring them to you. But it’s not something you can control. It’s instinctive, tied to your emotions, your desires, even your fears.”
Draco’s brow furrowed. “My… mate?”
“Yes,” Regulus said, his tone careful. “Every Veela has one. A person their magic is bound to, someone who completes them in a way no one else can. The glamour… it’s your magic’s way of finding them, of drawing them closer.”
Draco’s lips tightened, his mind racing. The word echoed in his thoughts, intertwining with memories of conversations and his mother’s soft smiles. Could this… could this be what his mother had meant when she told him Emmeline and he were soulmates? The way she’d spoken about them, like they were inevitable, like it was written into his very being that they would be. Was it true? Could it have been real? “But I didn’t do anything. I don’t even know how this started.”
He shook his head slightly, trying to quell the storm inside him. Regulus’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“You don’t have to,” Regulus said gently. “It’s not something you can consciously trigger. It’s part of who you are. Your Veela has awakened within, and with that, so has your magic.”
Draco’s thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and anger as his breath quickened in frustration at the idea. He could feel Regulus watching him for a moment before speaking again, his voice gentle but firm.
“You’re not alone in this, Draco. You have people who care about you, who want to help you. And whether you believe it or not, I’m one of them.”
Draco’s gaze flicked back to Regulus, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of skepticism and something else—something fragile, almost hopeful. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the silence speak for him. But Regulus’s kind tone and comforting words had the opposite effect on Draco’s emotions as he felt himself begin to panic.
He shook his head, slowly as the thoughts straightened, Draco’s voice was trembling with horror.
“No.” He said. “No, I don’t believe this. I can’t… I won’t believe you. You’re wrong. You’re lying. I’m not some… Veela half breed mut. I’m a Malfoy. A fucking Malfoy. Do you even understand what that means? For me? For the world? For the whole damn Sacred 28? No. You’re lying and I absolutely will not stand for it.”
Regulus’s expression didn’t waver, though his gaze softened. “I understand perfectly well, Draco. But it is imperative to me that you understand that being a Veela does not make you less of a Malfoy in any way. It doesn’t take away from who you are or where you are from.”
“What bullshit! It does!” Draco snapped, standing abruptly. “You’re actually asking me to accept that I’m… different. Something wrong. Ruined. Something terrible that I am not. But you would have me believe I am and have been this thing my entire life? It’s absurd.” Draco stood quickly, his chair scraping the floor as he pushed off of it. “You’re full of shit! Do you even have any idea what that would mean for me?”
Regulus stood as well, his tone calm but firm. “It means you have a choice. To deny who you are and let it consume you, or to embrace it and become stronger because of it.”
“Consume me?” Draco very nearly laughed at the irony. “I don’t believe you really understand my life at all. I don’t get choices, and I don’t get consumed, Sir. I’m not like others, though I do really hate to disappoint you.” He hoped his sarcasm was obvious in his voice and his anxiety was not.
“I know it’s not easy,” Regulus said. “But if your glamour has activated, it means your Veela heritage is surfacing. And ignoring it won’t make it go away.”
Draco’s hands curled into fists; his knuckles white. “I’m not a Veela,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m a Malfoy. A pureblood. My father would have told me.”
“I can recall how Lucius has done many things in his life, dear nephew, honesty is not one of the forerunners in my mind.” Regulus said quietly.
“Shut up!” Draco shouted; his voice raw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do,” Regulus said firmly. “And so do you. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The changes. The power. The way people are drawn to you. This is real, Draco. I’m sorry that this could not have happened on better terms or in a better way for you. However, the sooner you accept it, that you are a veela, the sooner we can figure out how to help you.”
Draco looked at him, his gaze meeting Regulus’s. There was no malice there, no judgment. Only a quiet determination that made Draco’s resolve falter.
“Fine,” Draco said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. It couldn’t hurt him to understand, even if he knew it could never quite make sense. “Explain. Start from the beginning.”