Chapter 12
Draco pushed open the door to his new room. All the fighting didn’t help. Mr Weasley was as understanding as a wall.
One look out of the window showed the evening sun glowing red on the horizon, bathing everything in golden light. He looked around.
Two beds stood on either side of the room. In between them, in front of the window, was a wooden desk. A beautiful old model.
But this room really paled in comparison to Regulus‘s. It was very plain and basic. Beige walls, partially fronted with timber.
Draco turned his head to the left, where Longbottom‘s bed was. He had hung his gryffindor scarf above it so it wasn‘t difficult to spot which bed was already taken.
Besides, his few belongings had been placed on the other bed.
Draco snorted. Ridiculous.
“You should stay on your side of the room,“ said a familiar voice suddenly, causing Draco to turn his head. It was Neville, in all his glory. The old cloth shoes could have been worn by Longbottom‘s grandfather, and his shirt was basic and creased.
Draco bit his tongue to hold back the insult he wanted to shoot at him.
“I suppose you’re not happy about this decision either,“ he said instead and went to lean against the desk. “How did you keep it so clean, anyways? I thought you‘ve been living in here.“
“Not all of us can be slobs, Malfoy,“ said Longbottom with a strained expression, trying his hardest to keep up the eye contact.
“Wow, you’re getting brave. You should watch your mouth.“
Longbottom’s jaw tightened. “You can‘t hex me here, Malfoy. We‘re not in Hogwarts and you are not a prefect anymore.“
“You are underestimating my abilities,“ Draco said flatly.
Longbottom twitched nervously.
Draco pushed away from the desk and flopped on his new bed. It creaked horribly. “What time do the Weasley‘s go to bed?“
Neville stared. “How am I supposed to know.”
“Careful there. I don’t like to repeat myself.”
Longbottom shot him a questioning glare and Draco just raised his eyebrows in return. „You‘ve been sleeping on the same floor.“
“Yes, but I’m not stalking them.“ He turned away shaking his head and took a seat. “Anyways, I want to go to sleep soon, so if you could get ready for bed as well-“
A loud thump made him cut off his sentence. Draco has pushed his things off the bed. Longbottom sighed, but bit back a comment.
A short while later, both boys laid in bed, the room dark and scarce of delight.
Draco could hear Longbottom breathe. As he stared at the ceiling, he pictured them in Hogwarts.
“Furnunculus!” he said, pointing his wand at Longbottom who cried out in horror as great ugly boils grew on his face.
Pansy shrieked, laughing, while Blaise and Theo watched quietly.
Nobody was around; Longbottom was utterly alone.
“You annoy me, Longbottom.“ Draco sneered and stepped closer. Longbottom pressed his hands on his face and turned away. “The world doesn’t need stupid idiots like you. You probably wouldn’t make it through school if saviour Potter didn’t help you out from time to time.”
Blaise flashed a smirk, something vile flickered in his eyes.
“20 points from Gryffindor, little Neville, for being so bloody useless.”
Draco blinked himself into reality. That wasn’t his proudest moment.
He turned his head to stare at Longbottom’s bed.
“Why are you breathing so loudly?” he found himself asking.
It took a while before Longbottom opened his mouth. So long Draco figured he must have fallen asleep already.
“What games were you playing during dinner?” he said finally, taking Draco aback.
“I wasn’t playing any games.” Draco bit on the inside of his cheeks. He overdid it.
“Sure, you didn’t. Nobody believed your ruse for your information.”
Draco heard the rustling of sheets as Longbottom turned around.
“Fuck off,” he grumbled under his breath before holding it, hoping Longbottom has not heard him. But everything stayed quiet.
Later that night, Draco shot out of bed, stumbling and screaming in horror. He’d been back home, and Mother laid dead on the floor. Death Eaters looming over her, but when Draco tried to look at them, their faces blurred grotesquely.
“Malfoy?“ Longbottom asked, and then he remembered where he was. He had difficulty breathing as his airways seemed somewhat constricted, but that didn’t stop him from locking eyes with Longbottom who stared straight at him, sitting upright in his bed.
“Don‘t tell a soul.“
His roommate shook his head. “I won’t.“ He seemed serious enough, no smirk visible on his round face, as far as Draco could make out.
And that was it. To all appearances he kept his word because nobody treated him more strangely than usual when he came down for breakfast the next day. Nobody greeted him, either, so everything was normal. They just acted like he wasn’t even there. Kreacher served the food and everybody gorged themselves. The Weasley twins were born entertainers, able to make everybody laugh no matter how exhausted they looked. Especially Potter, Draco noticed with a glance to his right. Potter was stabbing his food with a fork, his chin resting on his hand. A forced smile appeared on his face every now and again when the twins made a particularly bad joke.
In that moment, the door swung open, revealing Mr Weasley. Thunderstorm clouds on his forehead.
“Snape makes me furious,” he grumbled as he made his way to his wife to give her a kiss.
“You can tell me later. Come on, sit down,” she patted on the empty chair beside her.
“No, I want to hear what you’ve got to say about Snape!” munched Weasley, digging into his breakfast.
Draco wrinkled his nose and Granger hit him in the side. “Where are your manners?” she grumbled.
The corners of his mouth twitched momentarily before he remembered they were about to speak derisive of Severus. Then his heart twisted instead.
He rested his hands on his lap, feeling very out of place.
“Yes, dad, what did Snape do?” one of the Weasley twins joined in.
Mrs Weasley had finally enough. “Nobody here will utter a word about Professor Snape or what he’s done, is that clear?”
“But why?”
“Because we have a Death Eater among us,” spoke up Potter and side-eyed Draco with pinched eyebrows, making everybody turn their heads to muster him like a barely tolerated goblin.
He used to love being the center of attention. People hanging on to his every word, willing to do whatever he says, cheering him on.
The attention he received in that moment came with a sort of bitterness that hit his gut. The urgent need to defend himself clawed its way upwards like nausea. The Dark Mark was forced upon him, he never had a choice. His entire life is prewritten by people who didn’t care an ounce about him. It wasn’t rewarding to have a father in prison.
And he certainly never begged to have his mother killed.
But he didn’t say any of that. He kept quiet, lips sealed shut, as always when he felt defeated. If there was one thing his father taught him about situations like these, it was endurance. They didn’t want to hear your lame excuses, just swallow it down and take what you get.
Don’t talk back and they don’t have a reason to get even angrier, he reminded himself.
He didn’t feel like making eye contact. Instead, he stared at his hands that still rested in his lap. They were shaking slightly.
He saw his left arm, and the sleeve that covered his skin. It hid the hideous Mark. Fittingly, it chose that exact moment to burn again. Like venom on his skin, in his blood.
“May I be excused?” he asked flatly.
“If you want to see Professor Snape, you are forbidden.” Said Mr Weasley in a tone that left no room for arguments.
Draco clenched his fist. “Yes, Sir.”
Then they let him go.
----
“What are you doing in here, Draco?” a sharp voice asked. The door was pulled shut and hard footsteps came up to him.
He was in a potions room. Loads of empty cauldrons stood around, except for the one Draco was currently bent over.
“What kind of potion are you making?” he asked, watching the bubbling potion intensely.
A sigh. “It’s wolfsbane, for Lupin.”
“The werewolf?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Lupin was. He ran into him not too long ago.
A hand touched his shoulder. “Draco, you shouldn’t be here.”
He spun around. “But Severus, I had to see you!” His grey eyes burned, yet the man in question remained cold. “You should go.”
“What, no! Everything’s a mess. Just answer a few questions. Please.”
Severus sighed loudly but gestured for him to continue.
Draco looked towards the door to check that they were alone before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Are you betraying the Dark Lord?“
“I play my role well, don’t I?” his dark eyes mustered him, a sly sardonic smile now playing at his lips that he almost failed to notice.
Draco swallowed hard. He couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Are you even a real Death Eater then? Have you lied to us, to my father?”
Severus crossed his arms. “The less you know, the better.”
He was about to retort but Severus cut in again: “I presume you have not forgotten about the Dark Lords’ skills in Legilimency. He could rip you apart in a second. It’s for your own safety.”
The words hit deep. There stood Draco, alone and miserable, and Severus across from him, but still beyond his grasp. His only confidant pushed him away.
“Do you even care that Mother died?”, he choked out.
At the mention of her, Severus’s shoulders visibly sagged. “I am not made of stone, Draco.”
“But you won’t tell me anything! Are you expecting me to be glad to be imprisoned by the enemies just because I’m safe from the Dark Lord now? I want Mother safe and alive, I don’t even care what happens to me!” The words just tumbled out of him, loudly and full of pain.
“I am in charge of your safety, Draco. I care about what happens to you, so don’t even think about endangering yourself,” reprimanded Severus.
Draco crossed his arms and turned back to stare at the potion.
“Do you care about me?” he asked.
“Draco, I answered this a second ago.”
“No, I mean, am I important to you?”
“Yes, Draco.” Severus sounded like he was done with Draco’s bullshit.
“Then why-“ Draco broke off. “I’ve never… felt so much sorrow. I’m not okay. So please, no matter what Mr Weasley says, I need you. You’re the only one I have left.”
Draco didn’t turn to see Severus’s reaction, but according to the sigh he let out he was either annoyed or emotionally moved.
“I can continue to teach you occlumency. What do you think?”
“If you teach like Aunt Bella, I don’t want to,” he said tonelessly.
Severus let out a bleak laugh. “Her methods are cruel. I inquired your father to let me teach you, but he wanted it to stay in the family.”
“She is awful,” agreed Draco.
Severus nodded. “If everything goes right, you might never have to see her again.”
He regarded him with a strange look. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing, Draco. Don’t worry about it.”
Then Severus pushed him out of the room. “Tomorrow, same time, same place. Don’t be late.”
He turned back around, his dark robe flaring up, and disappeared in the room.
Draco blinked a couple times. Some sort of hope blossomed in his chest. Severus was on his side. He didn’t leave him hanging like he thought.
He felt like he could finally breathe properly after weeks of being underwater.
A shaky little smile appeared on his lips as he turned to leave.
——
The weekend arrived. Draco counted the days and was shocked to find that the summer holidays ended in two weeks. Where did the time go?
In this short while his entire life changed. Everything he believed to be set in stone had been flipped over and kicked to the moon. He didn’t even know if he would be able to go to Hogwarts as usual. He could already imagine how his friends would react to the news of him being almost parentless and basically dethroned. His parents did a good job of fucking up every good thing they had.
But the news probably already floated about, and if not, rumours would keep the mill running. After all, everybody knew what stood in the newspaper. How his mother supposedly killed Glinda Flume. Only Slytherins with Death Eater parents might know the full truth. But that’s not a problem he can solve today. So, he sat up and cradled his cursed arm.
He had long since gotten used to the familiar pain. He would like to know if everybody experienced that, or if the Dark Lord was just really angry at him. He‘d have to ask Severus.
The scar Greyback left on him hadn‘t healed either, as expected. He hated to look at them. Maybe they were even worse than the Dark Mark.
The Mark reminded him of his bondage to the Dark Lord. It was an echo that never fades. It screamed. The Dark Lord had always made Father’s life difficult, even when he stood on his good side. And he knew that nothing good ever happens if you fall in disdain with his Lord. And yet he risked it all and brought dark times over the family.
The scars in return were a reminder of the worst day in his life. Whenever he looked at them, he felt like he was back there. The stench of Greybacks breath in his face. The way he held him down, unable to move. All the while Mother lied dead on the floor. Greyback clawing into his skin and laughing.
Draco shook his head and arms, as if to shake away the bad memories. He got up from the bed, suddenly restless and took a deep breath. One peek over at Longbottoms bed confirmed his suspicion- he never came back to sleep. It was the middle of the night, almost one a.m. if Draco had to guess. When Longbottom left, he acted like he was sleeping, even though he hadn’t slept properly in a since forever. The fear of having another nightmare with Longbottom around to witness it kept him awake as well.
Longbottom had nightmares too. He dropped Draco’s name twice already. It made him feel... weird. He didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t good. Maybe... but just maybe- he felt guilt. As soon as that thought came to him, he gave his best to push it away.
Once Longbottom was begging his grandmother for forgiveness. It made him wonder what was going on in their household behind closed doors.
Nonetheless, something drove him out of their room. His throat itched for water. Besides, he was curious what Longbottom was doing. He always thought he was a sucker for rules, and Mrs Weasley‘s rules were clear: not later in bed than eleven.
Both of them usually adhered to her law, as did everybody else in this house (he overheard Weasley complaining at the breakfast table), but he would be lying if it didn’t annoy him. Nobody here cared about him anyway, so what business did they have telling him to go to sleep?
Still, he never objected. As long as they didn’t beat him, he would be fine. He promised himself to hold out.
On tiptoes Draco scurried down the stairs. He memorized which steps groaned and deftly skipped them.
He learned to walk quietly from a young age and it came in handy quite often. When he sneaked out of the dorm in Hogwarts during bedtime for example. The times he’d been caught can be counted on one hand.
No sounds could he heard on the ground floor. Darkness shrouded the hallway.
A gut feeling led him down to the basement where the kitchen was. Or maybe it was just his poor, dehydrated throat that finally wanted to down some water.
Nonetheless, the closer he crept to the kitchen, the louder became strange whispers. He scored big.
But as he opened the door a crack, he was met with a surprise. Longbottom was there, he wasn’t mistaken, but he wasn’t alone.
With him were Potter, Bill and Fleur. They sat around the wooden table in the dimly lit kitchen, absorbed in their conversation. Fleur waved her hands through the air, retelling stories from Beauxbatons, as far as Draco could understand. Her French accent gave her a sweet charm. Bill didn’t seem to be able to look away, his affection for her clearly displayed in his face.
Potter sat back in his chair with a smile as he listened. Longbottom, seated beside Potter, warmed his hands on a cup. The rich scent of hot chocolate wafted through the air.
It was so cozy. Draco felt a pang of jealousy in his heart. His mouth watered, too.
He wanted to leave just as quietly as he came, but as he pulled back his head to close the door, Bill noticed the movement.
“Hello? Who’s there?” he called out, causing Draco to freeze in the act. After a deep sigh, he meekly entered the kitchen.
The expression on Potters face hardened immediately. Longbottom tensed up. The change in atmosphere was clear.
“Draco!” Bill called out excitedly. “I didn’t see you in ages!”
“Ron would hate you so much if he knew what you just said,” deadpanned Potter.
“I just wanted to drink some water,” mumbled Draco and nodded to the sink.
“Care for a hot chocolate?”
Potter groaned out loud.
“Harry, it can’t hurt to be civil,” chided Fleur.
“Not to a Death Eater.”
Bill suddenly turned serious. “You have no idea what Draco went through and it would do you good not to assume.” Then he got up and nodded at him. “I’m making you a chocolate, sit down.”
“I uh... I didn’t mean to interrupt, honest. I don’t need a hot chocolate,” he shifted uncomfortably, clearly out of place.
“You’re not interrupting!” Fleur’s voice was warm and inviting as if she tried to close the gap between their worlds. “Just take a seat, it’s fine.”
Draco did as he was told. From the corner of his eye, he saw Longbottom stare into his cup, face strained.
“Uhm, Fleur?” he found himself asking. “Are you okay now?”
“The Death Eaters did a number on me, but I’m fine. St. Mungo released me a couple days ago.” She didn‘t smile, but her eyes shone brightly.
“That’s good. I’m still so sorry, I don’t know how they found me.” Draco licked his lips nervously.
“Draco, it’s not your fault, okay? You’re good,” Bill called over from the stove as he stirred in a pot.
Draco would like to disagree. The Death Eaters would have never attacked their flat if it wasn’t for him, and he could see that Potter thought exactly the same.
“The Death Eaters were after you?” asked Longbottom suddenly, apparently done with staring holes into his cup.
“Yes. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, they say.” He lifted his left arm for a second. “And when you betray them, they wish to kill you off themselves.”
“What did you do to betray them?” Potter mustered him. “Aren’t you a sucker for corrupt authorities?”
He closed his eyes momentarily. Potter was surely alluding to Umbridge. And he wasn’t wrong. Working for Umbridge has been kind of fun when all he had to do was display the newly gained power she gave them. He obtained a status of respect and fear amongst younger students.
But his ideal world crumbled when Umbridge started torturing Potter to uncover the truth about Dumbeldore’s Army and the Dark Lords return.
No matter how much he hated Potter, it gave him a fright.
“Still living in a delusional world, huh?” Draco leaned back in his chair, mentally pulling up his well-known façade of arrogance. “Not everything is as simple as it seems, Potter,” he spat out his last name, “or divided in black and white. And when you think about it, you should come to the conclusion yourself. Or do you need smartass Granger to think for you?”
Potter was out of his chair in no less than a second, the sudden movements causing Draco to recoil.
Longbottom grabbed him in the last moment, held both his arms securely to hold him back from attacking Draco.
“It‘s not worth it! Calm down, it doesn’t matter,” said Longbottom forcefully.
“Yeah, boys,” Bill interfered with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in one hand, “cut the crap. You don‘t have to like each other, but at least be civil. You too, Draco.”
Fleur looked like she would roll her eyes any moment and muttered something in french. It sounded something like ‚typical guys‘.
Potter threw Draco one last hateful look before shaking off Longbottom and dropping back into his chair. His jaw tens.
A painful silence arose as Bill put the hot chocolate in front of Draco. He thanked him quietly and stirred it. It smelled so good it made him salivate. The last time he drank hot chocolate must have been years ago.
The first mouthful confirmed what he already knew: it was amazing. A pleasant feeling spread in his chest and he felt himself relax.
“So good,” he said and licked his lips.
Longbottom fiddled with his cup. “What if Mrs Weasley catches us awake?” he asked, obviously nervous, but Bill waved it off.
“Let that be my worry. You have valid reasons.” He then set his gaze on Potter and Draco. “You too not so much. Or do you want to tell me something?”
Potter shrugged, but Draco actually wanted to get on with Bill and answered truthfully “I was looking for that guy,” he nodded at Longbottom, “because he never came back after he left.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” he mumbled.
So, it was probably a nightmare then. This time without much noise that would have alerted Draco.
Bill leaned in to give Fleur a quiet kiss.
“Is Mrs Weasley still mad about you two?” asked Potter.
Bill just huffed. “Ginny too. They can‘t possibly fathom that Fleur loves me. They throw jabs and distrusting glances like daggers. Think we’re just rushing because of the war.”
“Just wait till we tell them we‘re engaged,“ Fleur threw Bill a wink and rested her chin on her left hand to show off the engagement ring.
The kids‘ jaws dropped.
“Seriously?“ asked Potter excitedly, “Man, that‘s awesome!“
“Congratulations!” grinned Longbottom.
Even Draco couldn’t suppress a smile. “That’s neat.” He murmured.
He couldn’t help but think of the engagement rules he learned from a young age. Father‘s disapproving expression appeared in his mind.
Whatever. He wasn’t here.
With a big gulp he finished his hot chocolate. Time was short and sleep was precious.
“I‘ve got to get back,“ he said and stood up, “Mrs Weasley would kill me if she caught me out of bed during this hour.“
Bill grimaced. “I’ll try to talk to her, but she can be very stubborn.“
Draco shook his head. “She won’t change her mind. Why should she trust a Death Eater?”
Potter scrunched his nose.
“Thanks for the chocolate,” he added, flashing a smile, before stalking out of the kitchen.
The last thing he heard was Potter grumbling “I can’t fucking stand him.” Then the door clicked shut.