fervere

Chapter Sixteen

Soon after Hermione had left, Draco also was set to depart to his own home but not before receiving his Hogwarts letter one bright morning as he was packing away a few things. He was being shadowed by Snape who was giving him an earful of instructions of what would be the best course of action in one of the most important years at Hogwarts. 

“I wouldn’t advise taking your James B. Jones books to Hogwarts,” Snape glared at him as he came across an old issue of a certain magazine that was sticking out of one of the books he had hidden in it, “Nor do I think staring at scantily clad witches is in anyway productive to your OWL year.” 

Draco flinched when Snape rolled up the magazine and lightly whacked him on the head. Snape had promised to take his school trunks in advance to Hogwarts so he could travel light back to the Manor. 

Draco scoffed but tried not to crack a smile under the watchful eye of Snape. He continued to pack a smaller suitcase filled with his pajamas and a few spare clothes for a week at the manor. After all, he had all he needed in his room. 

“As for lessons,” Snape inhaled, “I will let you know when we will resume, that is if we need to. I think right now you know Harry is our main concern.” 

Draco raised his light blonde brows wondering if he should be cautious. It wasn’t concerning that Draco was now left to fend for himself. He was actually looking forward to not having Snape invade is privacy over and over again and, if Draco was completely honest, the meditative techniques he picked up were quite useful. 

Without having to ask, Snape explained, “Dumbledore has entrusted me to train Harry in occlumency this year.” 

“Because there’s something wrong with him,” Draco finished, half joking, half not. 

Snape glowered at him, “He is in constant danger boy, I think it would do us a huge favor to equip him with ways to defend himself in order for the best outcome.” 

Draco sneered in thought, “Well if you can tell him to stop looking mental that would really help his cause.” 

That earned a gentle head shove from Snape who was not at all in a joking mood. He never was.  

“What do you mean by that, boy?” He hissed.  

Draco shrugged, “Nothing really, I’m just joking.” 

“Something happen,” Snape declared, his eyes narrowing as if he was getting ready to poke through his mind. It was a knee jerk reaction for Draco. He flinched and his walls were up to block Snape out. It was something Snape could have easily maneuvered his way around to get his answers but Draco lips were moving before Snape had the opportunity.  

“It only happened once, didn’t help that I was egging him on.” Draco blurted out.  

“Say it.” Snape demanded.  

Draco inhaled, relaxing the tense muscles in his neck that were a sort of defensive mechanism he had developed. Once he exhaled, he focused on the negative energy in the air, as if it rid him of all the tenseness. It helped him immensely, giving Draco the courage to look Snape straight in the eye with a curious tilt of his head, “There was this look in his eyes. A kind of glazed over look and it felt foul. That’s all.” 

Draco braced for what felt like an inevitable invasion of his memory but it never came. Snape silently stared at Draco, taking his word at face value. He had no reason to lie, especially if Snape could easily bypass Draco barriers to see what he was talking about.  

It was then when Snape surprised Draco with a request.  

“Can I have your memory?” He asked quietly.  

“Pardon.” Draco frowned, unsure if he had heard correctly.  

Snape whipped out his wand and Draco’s neck immediately tensed. Snape shook his head as if he was assuring a child when Draco took a step back. He had just recovered from there last lesson he didn’t want to go through another one in a very long time.  

“It’s just extraction,” Snape simply said, “It won’t hurt.” 

Draco stood frozen, trapped.  

“I cannot extract your memory in its purest form if it’s forced,” Snape explained, “So you must trust me and have the memory at the front of your mind.” 

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled.  

Inhaled and exhaled.  

He finally gulped, thinking of that particular day when Harry was shouting at him coming out of an Order meeting. There had been something sickly and snake like in Harry’s eyes. It was like staring at everything void and sinister at the same time.  

Snape tapped his wand on Draco’s left temple. He muttered out an incantation and then slowly pulled his wand away. It felt like the slight tug of a strand of his hair. Snape reached into his pocket and took out a vial. Draco had seen a silvery wisp floating at the tip of Snape’s wand before he twisted it and slid it in the vial. After Snape put a stopper on his memory, Draco relaxed.  

He was glad it was nowhere near the trauma of reliving his memories in his head with Snape as an audience, but it was still objectively strange to Draco how easy it was to extract a memory. 

“I trust that I have given you all the skills and knowledge for you to continue protecting your mind.” Snape went on as if anything that Draco had just said never happened. 

Draco blinked. 

“If you need any guidance during the school year, I will only be available during lunch hour and only specifically for questions over your training thus far. Understood?” Snape placed his hands behind his back, signaling the end of this conversation. Behind him was a stack of school truck that were ready to be taken away. 

“But how will I know if my self-practice is working if no one around me is a legimens?” Draco asked.  

Snape stared at him down his nose, a strained silence settled as Draco waited for his answer.  

His dearest Professor whipped out a letter from his breast pocket of his cloak addressed to Draco before announcing his leave. 

“Are you finished packing your school things?” He asked.  

“Yes, Professor,” Draco chewed on his lip as he examined his letter. Something was not quite right with it.  

“I will be taking your things to Hogwarts now and returning to Spinner’s End to arrange my things.” He said and abruptly pivoted to leave the attic. 

“Is Aster-” 

“Yes,” Snape snapped, feigning a disinterest in his own forced adopted dog, “He will stay with me at Hogwarts. He managed to chase of Flitch’s cat last year and ability that is valuable if one considers how nosey Flitch is. I will see you at Hogwarts.” 

Snape wasted no time to exit, leaving Draco alone in his attic. It was how feeling a lot bigger and a more lonely since Hermione left and Ron and Harry kissed and made up. Fred and George were begrudgingly trying to plan their life with Seventh year in their way.  

Ginny would still come up and bother him, although, Draco wasn’t sure exactly where she was that exact moment.  

Draco reverted his attention back on the Hogwarts letter in his hand which was a tad bit heavier than the years prior. It was as if someone had shoved in a flat piece of stone inside the envelope. He didn’t waste time to rip it open.  

The usual book list flopped down on his bed, as he read the first few lines of his welcoming letter and then allowed the stone to slide out into his palm, except it wasn’t a stone.  

It was smooth and sleek, sliver wrapping around like a twisted snake around a gleaming emerald letter P. 

“Prefect?” Draco softly breathed out. He glanced up at the door where Snape had walked out of a few moments ago and he smiled. Snape nominated him as a Prefect to be selected by Dumbledore? 

Draco? 

Draco hadn’t expected to be selected and if he really thought about it, he hadn’t really thought who would be the one chosen for their fifth year. Although he knew it must have something to do with Snape, it didn’t stop Draco from feeling proud of himself. Surely, his father would have nothing to complain about when he goes home to show off his badge. Even his father, Lucius, hadn’t been able to grab the title when he was in school.  

Perhaps another reason why his father loathed Dumbledore. 

Draco’s mum had told him all about it once. They had favored another classmate, a Devon Sallow, for the role. 

“Quite handsome,” Narcissa once said over a dinner when his father was absent when he was ten years old, “Tried to court me in our seventh year, but your father was loyal and that won me over. All Malfoy men are.” 

Draco shook the memory of his head, his gaze scanning down the book list for the coming year. With the letter in his hand and extra parchment, Draco floated down to the kitchens in hopes to ask for an owl to write his parents to confirm his return which was soon approaching.  

As true as the sun rising in the east, Molly Weasley was in the kitchen cooking up what smelled like a delicious lunch. However, this time she had her arms wrapped around Ron swaying him side to side, with proud tears in her eyes. Harry was awkwardly standing to the side, opening his mouth about to voice something but stopping himself before he could say what was on his mind. 

“Congratulations Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together, pushing Ron out and holding him at arm's length to get a good look at him, “Wait until your father comes home! We can get you something from Diagon Alley, a present.” 

“A-actually Mrs. Weasley,” Harry jumped in as Ron’s mom turned back to her stove. She caught sight of Draco and welcomed him in. Harry glanced over at Draco and huffed in annoyance.  

“Dear, you got your letter, didn’t you?” Mrs. Weasley said, “I know you must be packing. Do you want to grab your things today? I know you’ll be going to Diagon Alley this evening to floo back home. Arthur and I are going to grab everyone’s school things too. Would you like us to keep a close eye on you?” 

Harry forced his face into the line of vision, “That’s what I wanted to ask about Mrs. Weasle- 

“Ah, that’s very kind of your but there is no need. I can manage on my own,” Draco explained, “I actually wanted to ask if I could borrow an owl, I wanted to write to my dad.” 

Mrs. Weasley chewed on her lip, “Oh Draco, I’m not sure if it’s possible.” 

“Why not?” He frowned, “Hermione and Ron use them all the time. Ron nearly every day.” 

It was the first time Draco saw Mrs. Weasley look truly ashamed with what she was about to say.  

“It’s not that we don’t trust you. We’re sure that your father would recognize our family owls since he works with Arthur.” She admitted, hoping Draco would understand that it wouldn’t be ideal to tip his father off with such a suspicious carrier, “And the only other owl available to use is Moody’s but once again...” 

“My father would recognize that I’m using Order member’s owls.” Draco nodded, “I understand.” 

Molly looked over at Ron who was peering into a pot of warm lamb stew.  

“Ronalds be a dear and tell your brothers and sister to start throwing their dirty clothes in the wash and start packing,” Molly patted Harry on the shoulder to signal him he should be doing the same as well, “I don’t want any of your to leave your rooms a mess when you set off for school too. Cleaning duties, all of you!” 

Rona grumbled marching up to send word to his siblings.  

“What’s father need to know that is so urgent?” Harry glared but even his jabs didn’t deter Draco from taking his Prefect badge out of his pocket and showing the entire kitchen.  

Molly squealed in happiness.  

“I’m a Slytherin Prefect.” He cockily announced, sneering at Harry. It may have been petty to bring up an old dead rivalry but Draco felt the satisfaction to one up Harry Potter in something. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

The trip back to Malfoy Manor was somewhat uneventful. He had set up a time to floo himself from Diagon Alley straight to Malfoy Manor and didn’t think much of his departure from Grimmauld Place. It was a quite house with the Order out on missions and the Weasleys upstairs busy as ever.  

As promised, even if Draco thought it unnecessary, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loosely followed Draco to ensure he’d get to Diagon Alley’s Floo Network booth safely.  

Dusk had fallen over London and the street lamps of the Alley were flickering on by the time Draco and the Weasley managed to get there on a brisk walk to get to the Leaky Cauldron. It was only really about ten minutes from Grimmauld.  

They got through the Leaky Cauldron without much notice and through the brick wall easily. The streets were not as crowded at night and only the few shop keepers stuck around for a late night customer and to chat with other owners over a pint of butterbeer. 

Draco gave Mr and Mrs Weasley a grateful bow of his head before branchings away from them, heading towards a violent green phonebooth labeled with the sign “Floo Network”. 

Draco was about to step in the small booth when he noticed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley lingering outside of Flourish and Blotts happy that Draco had made it safely. They gave him a small wave before stepping in.  

Draco felt an appreciative frown pulling the corners of his mouth. For all the reasons they could have made his life difficult this past summer, the Weasleys enriched it, welcoming him in like any other friend of theirs. A knot formed at his throat, reminding Draco of the exercises he need to do to gain control. He exhaled forcibly about to reach out for the booth handle. 

“Oy!” A hush whispered called out.  

Draco froze and looked around. Unable to detected where the voice came from in the cramped roads of a calm settling alley, Draco reached for the booth once more.  

“Oy git! Get over here.” 

It was the unmistakable voice of George... or Fred. Draco wasn’t quite sure.  

Before he knew it, Draco’s arm was invisibly pulled into a tight alley that branched from the main road. It was like a force dragging him away from sight. Bewildered, Draco tried to shake the grip off but immediately stopped once Fred and George uncovered themselves with that damn invisibility cloak of Harry’s, proudly grinning at him.  

“Did ya think you were going to leave without a proper goodbye?” Fred warmly said. George unexpectedly scooped Draco up and pushed him towards Fred, sandwiching him into a hug.  

“What are you guys doing here?” Draco asked, his face stuffed into Fred's shoulder. His grey eyes moved frantically around to scan the area. There was no one around.  

Thankfully.  

“Well Mum and Dad had us cooped up all summer,” Fred explained, “Thought it would help our mental state to get of the house too.” 

George sniggered, “Harry tried to ask mum this morning but he was apparently overshadowed by you and Ron.” 

“Speaking of which,” Fred pipped up. He disappeared in a blink of an eye and then, before Draco could register that the twins had apparated in and out, Fred was back with Ron who looked completely disorientated.  

“Ron wanted to say goodbye,” Fred announced.  

“That was ghastly,” Ron said, his hand covering his mouth as if he was trying to hold in a bit of sick from the sensation of apparation.  

“Ah right. Just a second.” George hummed out. He disappeared and appeared a second later with Ginny who wasted no time in flinging her arms around Draco who felt the never ending of shock as the seconds ticked by. 

“Can’t believe you were going to leave without say goodbye!” She scolded and then light shoved him.  

Draco genuinely smiled, “Well your mum ordered all of you to begin washing and packing... I didn’t want to interrupt and, besides, I’ll see you all in a week.” 

Ginny scoffed, “Some manners they teach you.” 

Fred clicked his tongue, “Like they say, money does not buy everything sis.” 

It was Draco’s turn to shove Fred.  

“Don’t forget Harry,” Ron gulped, still trying to recover, “He needs to sign the lease for you.” 

Draco cocked his head, “What this all about?” 

Ginny gave her brothers a look, “They’ve all come to bear witness.” 

George popped away. 

Fred grinned widely, “We followed some sound advice from a bloody blonde bloke and bought up some commercial estate for our business.”  

Draco’s mouth hung open and George was back with Harry who looked even more disheveled with his glasses askew. Draco began to grin widely, happy with the biggest shock of all.  

“You don’t say!” He breathed out, bringing in Fred and George for another hug, “Congratulations!” 

Ginny crossed her arms, “Only I was faithful enough to want to come for the sole purpose to see you off cousin.” 

“Come off it, Gin,” Ron rolled his eyes, “We all wanted to escape that blasted place.” 

“Some of us already did,” Ginny glared at Draco, reminding all of them about the now very infamous night rendezvous. 

“So you and Granger, eh Malfoy?” Fred wiggled his brows. 

“Can’t believe she had the gall to lecture us about sneaking off here, while she impulsively left in the middle of the night with him,” Harry shook his head.  

“Could’ve convinced her not to go to Bulgaria, you know,” Ron added looking at Draco as if it was his fault she didn’t stay. 

“Who cares,” George pipped up, “We might be getting free quidditch tickets in the future.” 

“Box seats, hopefully,” Fred added.  

“Doesn’t bloody well matter, does it?” Ron snapped, “They won’t be tickets for the Irish, will it?” 

Ginny sighed, “Enough! We’re strapped for time. Draco needs to go home and we need to get papers signed before mum and dad get back home and noticed we’re gone!” 

And with that and another final hug (even one from an apprehensive Harry) Draco stepped into the booth, grabbed a fist full of Floo powder and blasted himself in green flames to transport back to his home, cherishing the final moments of the Weasley’s smiling faces waving goodbye at him. 

It was a steep contrast to what he stumbled upon back in the manor. Even though Draco’s family wasn’t known for being the most welcoming, Draco expected a bit more fanfare for his return.  

Draco stepped out of the grand fireplace in the lobby of their manor and looked around for his mother who was nowhere in sight. 

He wasn’t expecting a party or an outright feast, but maybe a hug, or an acknowledgement from his parents would have been on par from the Weasley’s goodbye. 

If he was frank, he was actually looking forward to tell his father he was made prefect, hoping that in some ways it would overshadow any lingering thought to ask him about his summer studies. But then again, Draco hadn’t been able to confirm his return to his parents. Maybe they had expected him later on in the day? 

Midnight perhaps? 

The mood of the Manor was highly erratic and unwelcoming. The sense of urgency filled every corner as house elves scurrying around and making sure that everything was pristine for the arrival.  

Draco assumed it was his own arrival after overhearing a few house elves muttering to themselves about getting everything ready for the evening. Perhaps Draco had come a bit earlier than expected or maybe they were running late. 

Draco stood in the mist of chaos, wondering if his mother was tied up in preparing for him. She should have been standing, waiting for him at the lobby even if he was early.  

It was a bit unlike her to not wait around for his arrival. 

After all, it will only be a week together before he was carted off back to Hogwarts once more. She didn’t have a lot of time with him.  

Luckily for Draco, he caught sight of a familiar fleshy pink Sephina, his trusted house elf, carrying a load fresh laundry up the stairs. Draco dodged a few elves before he was able to reach her, pulling her back by the sleeve of her pillowcase dress.  

“Sephina!” He called, “Would you let my mother know I just arrived?” 

Her large eyes grew even wider once she realized who was speaking to her. The warm hand towels embroidered with the Malfoy crest she had been carrying toppled down the black marble stairs, sprawling everywhere on the checkered board floor. 

“Master Malfoy!” She squeaked, ducking down to pick up a few towels before snapping her fingers to magic the rest into her arms, “You are not supposed to be here!” 

Draco let out a dignified scoffed, “Of course I am, you are preparing for my arrival, are you not?” 

Sephina gulped, nervously avoiding Draco’s question.  

“No, no, no,” She repeated, “Master should not be here. Tomorrow is Master’s arrival. Master should be elsewhere and safe.” 

“What do you mean?” Draco scoffed, “Then what is all this for?” 

Sure, Draco wasn’t used to this much preparation for his homecoming, but it was honestly nothing out of the ordinary for his family.  

“Master,” Sephina whimpered, “You-know-who is coming. Mistress said you mustn't be here. He will make of use you if he knows you’re here. He will find a way to you if you don’t hide!” 

Fear gripped Draco.  

That was all it took for Draco to barricade himself in his room unnoticed by his parents and ignored by the house elves who were sick with fear of having everything prepared on time.  

Draco took out his wand from his suitcase, pausing as he raised it pointing to the door.  

He licked his lips, knowing that the implications of being caught performing magic but... what was it that his father said when Harry was in trouble the summer before their second year? Oh yes. 

“The ministry is able to detect magic being performed at a location, not who performs it.” 

That was enough to encourage Draco to open his mouth.  

“Imperturbus, Protego totalum,” He muttered his teeth chattering from the sweeping dread that began to trickled down his neck like a cold icy river. He knew the feeling very well.  

Draco gulped, “Saliva Hexia. Colloportis.” 

The sound of the lock at his massive wooden door clicking was enough to calm Draco a bit. He waved his wand closing the curtains when he saw the lazy dark floating figures in the distance bringing the unseasonal chill at the end of a very warm summer. 

Dementors. 

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they were coming any closer to the Manor when Draco peeked out of his window like a prisoner in his own home. Despite the good news, it was enough to put Draco on edge. He paced around his massive room, thinking of the daunting figure that was soon to visit his home. There had to be some sort of oversight that allowed this overlap.  

Surely Snape wouldn’t have allowed him anywhere near Voldemort until it was absolutely unavoidable. Nor did Draco have reason to believe his mother would happily think it was fine to have her son around Voldemort. She had gone through so many measures to ensure he wouldn’t have to.  

The icy grip of dread filled Draco who huddled near the roaring fire in his room. He had Sephina build a fire for him while he enchanted his room for protection. He sat on the ground, staring at the flames. Sephina disappeared somewhere behind him, knowing that house elves defied the limits of wizard magic.  

He took a shaky breath in and slowly, what felt like brick by brick, began to build his guard up an invisible barrier around his mind. Draco even began to void his mind from any thoughts, breathing to fill his head with a void. The less the dementors sense happiness, the less effect they had on him. It was trickier than blocking out Snape, but Draco had managed to blank out his mind.  

He was still and empty of any thoughts.  

The void stretched on, Draco unsure of how long he hand been sitting there by the fire place until something anchored him back to reality.  

Something that felt like an infestation. 

There was a ghastly sick taste in Draco’s mouth that kept bubbling up. Tears began to form in the corner of his eyes as he tried to control himself from becoming ill. He knew it had nothing to do with maladies or infections.  

It was the type of nausea that is caused by wickedness. It was similar in sensation from that one time Harry was furious with him, except this one was far more intense. 

Draco felt like he could even smell the moment the Dark Lord stepped into his home. There was a putrid foul odor of a plague, one that Draco somehow knew was death that seeped into his room from the cracks of the door.  

Voices echoed up to his room and Draco presumed that the Dark Lord was greeted with a warm welcome by even more guests than Draco realized were in attendance.  

Sephina mentioned a few names like Yaxley and Macmillan when she popped in to quickly prepare his room. She changed out the sheets and fluffed up his pillows with the snap of her fingers. Even the fireplace grew dimmer.  

“Even the Carrows made an appearance to dedicate their allegiance to the Dark Lord.” Sephina winced, “Master says there are many missing but surely Master will be awarded well for all he has done tonight.”  

Despite what seemed like a dutiful reception from his followers, Draco knew that his own parents would have never willingly place themselves in the position to host the Dark Lord.  

It may have been an honor but, Draco had not forgotten the leaps his own mother had gone through to make sure their Draco was nowhere near him.  

Narcissa would have also managed to steer Lucius in a not so obvious way out of the spotlight so they could eventually fade out from Voldemort’s favor without any repercussions. 

Perhaps that was the very reason his mother didn’t expect him to come until tomorrow, to keep him safe.  

Draco placed his head on his knees, hoping it would stop the spin of his room wobbling around him.  

“Sephina...” He called out for the third time of this endless day, his voice wavering. He could hear her hurry pitter patter around his room to quickly attend him before anyone noticed she was gone.  

Draco really had hoped that despite having to endure this sickness, he had a golden opportunity to gain some insight on what was going on. Ammunition for Dumbledore was all he wanted to gain, but he couldn’t help but coward in his large dark room. 

Sephina had already been so useful in reporting to him who was in attendance, Draco knew she was reliable. She had been since the first day Draco had asked for her help.  

Draco’s stomach lurched uncomfortably in his gut.  

The proximity to the Dark Lord left him nauseated and he needed to rest and breathe. Noticing his now erratic breathing, Draco hadn’t even the slightest idea when he had lost control. Once more he began to build his walls up, brick by brick. 

Sephina appeared at his side, done with all her work, just in time. 

“Yes, Master Malfoy? Apologizes for making you wait.” 

“A sleeping draft, please,” He requested, “The strongest you can make.” 

“Yes, Master,” Sephina bowed, snapping her fingers. She returned a mere five seconds later with a small vial that had a slight glow of purple to it.  

“Master’s father takes these often,” She announced, “We had an entire cauldron made for him over the summer. He also hasn’t been sleeping well.” 

Draco lifted his heavy arm to take the vial, however, Sephina moved it away from his reach. 

“Best be tucked into bed, Master,” Sephina suggested, “The potion works immediately after drinking the last drop.” 

Draco lazily nodded, ignoring his protesting stomach that was growling from hunger. Draco regretted not having a final dinner at Grimmauld. He saved room to eat expecting a welcoming upon his arrival but didn’t expect this. 

“When I wake, Sephina,” Draco weakly began, crawling himself into bed, positioning the pillows under his head, “Please have a bit of food for me.” 

“Yes, Master,” Sephina bowed, finally handing the vial to Draco, “Is there anything else you wish?” 

Draco shivered and nearly gagged at the revolting smell of death in the air.  

“Yes,” He admitted, “Please find out what this meeting is about. Be sure to not raise any suspicions, nor are you allowed to speak of my requests to anyone. You will report back to me, understand?” 

Sephina looked disheartened at her new assignment but had no other choice. The moment she nodded Draco took his vial and he was off into the cruel torture of a void of dreams.  

The next time Draco was conscious, he had difficulty recalling how much time had passed and frankly he didn’t care. When he woke there was only one thing his mind was on: food.  

There was a silver platter of fruit, clotted cream, and flakey butter scones next to his bed. He waited for a moment to solidify his world around him before he reached for the warm honeyed milk to have some sustenance. With one heavy exhale, the heaviness of yesterday was gone, and Draco knew that the Dementors were gone as well as the Dark Lord.  

Even if there were still traces of that pungent smell lingering behind, it wasn’t as strong as it was before. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and waited.  

“Sephina?” 

Draco listened out for that familiar pop but it never came. For a moment he panicked, wondering if Sephina had been caught but at the very foot of his bed, a pair of eyes popped up peering at him from her short stature. She had been sleeping at the foot of his bed, on the floor. 

“Yes, Master Malfoy?” 

Draco deflated, “Report?” 

“Oh Master,” She bit her lip, her tiny hands grasping on to a leatherbound journal, “There is much to know.” 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

Days later, Draco threw himself into a compartment and lulled his head back to rest his eyes. The past two days although were relatively Voldemort free, still drained him from the intense void of happiness. He had survived on effervescent elixirs that Sephina had brought him just to relax him and make him think of mundane things, like school work or books.  

His parents weren’t particularly overbearing but still draining. They didn’t look as thrilled at the news of being selected as a Prefect as he had predicted but they still congratulated him. Instead, there was a faraway gaze on both their faces that Draco noted on them. 

And for once, Draco didn’t resent them for their lack of enthusiasm even if it had been disappointing that they received his accomplishment as something quite ordinary. 

Being so close to Voldemort felt like he had imprinted a thick sludge of darkness that stuck in his mind and in these very walls of his home. It was impossible that his parents didn’t feel the same effects of Voldemort as Draco did. It was the elephant in the room how off putting his parents were acting. 

It took a bit of effort (and some of that technique Snape taught him) to recuperate fairly easily. The only way Draco could explain is was like healing a simple mental flu. Judging by his parents’ distance looks, they were also still suffering from the symptoms, gaunt and paler than usual. Draco couldn’t imagine what it was actually like being in the same room as Voldemort. 

Despite their mental maladies, Draco and his mum made their way to Platform 9 and 3/4s that first of September and said their farewells. His father was much too busy to show up that morning. He had been working nonstop since Voldemort’s visit. The few times Draco had been able to see him, he was tense and worried sick.  

Draco knew better than to ask but even that hint of worry was in his mother’s eye too. Much more prominent than the worries of a young boy who had a peculiar interest in a muggle born girl.  

Speaking of that muggle born girl, Hermione and Ginny had just walked by his own compartment. Draco sat up straighter when he locked eyes with Hermione. Her face beamed in a controlled acknowledgement of him. She suggested a compartment diagonal to his, giving him the perfect view of Hermione who sat facing him.  

Draco witnessed Ginny taking her seat next to Hermione mouthing something of a question to her. Hermione suppressed a smile and shook her head. Ginny’s brows knitted together and just as she turned away, catching a glimpse of Draco staring. Ginny rolled her head back, letting out an exasperated sigh. One that even Draco heard.  

“For fuck’s sakes!”  

Hermione elbowed Ginny's side but in retaliation, Ginny perked up exceedingly chipper and waved at Draco sarcastically before her left hand drew up and gave him the middle finger.  

Draco suppressed a laugh.  

He was glad that it looked mean spirited at first when Draco noticed two more heads peering through the compartment window. It was the Parvati twins. Luckily Draco knew Ginny a bit more to know that she had a tough kind of love.  

Her own special way of acknowledging her affections toward her cousin.   

Something that Draco took note of was that Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen. Their compartment was full, like his very own. Crabbe and Goyle were huddled around an issue of the Daily Prophet that was titled ‘Harry Potter’s Latest Dilemma: No One Believe His Last Lie!”. Montague, a fellow Quidditch player, had waltzed in asking Draco if he would still be part of their team this year. 

Draco took a mental note of the disparaging articles that were continuously being printed and the fact he needed to polish his broomstick. 

He actually had a million things to do floating around in his head and Draco hadn’t even touched ground at Hogwarts.  

“So,” Montague drawled out, “Are you planning on coming back to the team as our seeker?” 

Feeling the heavy prefect badge on his chest reminded him of how much time he would need to dedicate to be a Prefect. Yet, he couldn’t say no to Montague. It had been an entire year without any matches at school and it would be great to be on the team again.  

Draco nodded once, “Yes. Absolutely.” 

“Crabbe? Goyle?” Montague turned to the beefy yet, somewhat lovable pair. Goyle slowly lowered the Daily Prophet and exchanged looks with Crabbe.  

Right at that moment the Hogwarts Express whistled off their departure. Plenty of strange faces were at their window, parents and younger siblings seeing their loved ones off. Draco didn’t bother looking out, knowing his mother would have promptly left the second he had stepped onto the train.  

“Sure mate.” Crabbe nodded slowly, “You can count on us.” 

Montague, the strapping Seventh year, with sandy blonde hair and tanned skin stood up and bowed his head slightly.  

“Really appreciate it,” He smiled, “Pucey is asking the others. I think we won’t have to hold try-outs if we all agree to come back.” 

Draco found that a relief, but also a reminder to jump on his broom from time to time before their first practice. Montague eventually left and Draco checked his watch. He would have to join their first Prefect meeting ten minutes after they set off.  

Ron would be there.  

It was something that Draco was weighing on, telling Ron about what he had found out from Sephina. He had no idea how he would approach Harry directly without causing suspicion around them seeing them together but it was something that was itching inside him.  

Like a small pebble in his shoe, that needed to be kicked out.  

Just like this bit of information needed to be shared... with anyone.  

This prefect meeting could be a good excuse to exchange a few words with Ron without it being questioned by nosey gossiping eyes. Perhaps Draco could pass on some of that information of what he had learned over the week they spent apart.  

But as always, Draco weighed the options to divulge information and hesitated. He wasn’t sure how responsible it would be without getting it passed Dumbledore first.  

Draco raked his fingers through his fluffy half assed attempt of quaffed hair. His eyes caught Hermione in the adjacent compartment, animatedly talking to her friends. Ginny was sitting, almost sulking, with her arms crossed and analyzing Hermione from the side. Hermione then flicked her own hair off the front of her robes, exposing her very own prefect badge.  

Draco’s brows rose. Hermione, a prefect as well? 

“There you fucking are!” The compartment door slammed open and Pansy Parkinson was standing there for a split second startling Goyle and Crabbe who had gone back to reading the Daily Prophet, immersed in the news letter. 

Pansy plopped herself down in the empty space next to Draco and let out a long sigh.  

“Can you believe that Professor Snape nominated me as prefect?” Pansy groaned.  

“And Dumbledore approved?” Crabbe let out a small chuckled of disbelief.  

“Not really,” Draco stalely replied.  

“As if I don’t already have a lot on my plate! Everyone knows that fifth year is the worst for late nights for our O.W.L.s and now we must patrol the halls and lead snotty first years around,” Pansy rolled her eyes, ignoring their comments. 

“You’d think he would choose someone responsible like Daphne,” Goyle pipped up.  

“Except she’s in France,” Crabbe added, “Beauxbaton. But you know who escaped? Astoria. I saw her on the platform with her friends. Overheard her say it was an easy escape from that school. She doubts they even know she’s gone.” 

Pansy looked hopeful, “And Daphne?” 

Crabbe shrugged, "No clue. Daphne was always less daring than Astoria. She probably couldn’t escape that easily.” 

That was news to Draco. He sat up, even if he felt regrettably tired, wanting to know more about the Greengrass Sisters. There was something intriguing about the return of one of them. Would that mean Daphne is not so far behind? 

Ron would love to hear this.  

That is, if he didn’t already know. 

Pansy scoffed, “Just my luck. Why couldn’t Daphne be the one here? I’m sure she’d love to be a Prefect.” 

“Can’t be that bad, Pansy. You can take points away, can’t you?” Goyle eagerly asked, “Threaten the firsties with that and I'm sure you’ll have them straight as an arrow by tonight. Don’t have to worry about holding their hand or nothin’. Toughen them up a bit, ya know?” 

Draco let out a light hearted scoff.  

Pansy looked at him crossing her arms, pushing her developed self into his view, “Well I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad with Draco.” 

Draco wasn’t blind, Pansy had filled out over the summer and let her hair grow past her shoulders. She didn’t look so bad this year but needless to say Draco thought her pining would have stopped after the Yule Ball last year.   

Now that he thought about it, sharing prefect duties sounded awful if it was with Parkinson. She was whiny and lazy, which meant that Draco would perhaps have to take over more work and after a challenging summer, Draco wanted to ease into his duties as a Prefect. 

Draco didn’t have to wait too long before he and Parkinson set off for their first prefect meeting. 

Did he pay attention to it? Absolutely not. He had been cramped up in a compartment with all the other prefects to listen to the Head Boy and Girl about their responsibilities.  

Most of the meeting was a refresher for the sixth and seventh year prefects, but for the newly titled fifth years, it was a whirlwind of responsibilities. More than Pansy could have imagined. She would frequently mutter under her breath each time a duty was explained in its fullest.  

“Wake up at what hour?” She hissed under her breath, “Fuck me.” 

Draco looked at his list of duties on his scroll stealing a glance at Hermione and Ron who, for all accounts, were not standing next to each other. Ordinarily, that would have been perfect for Draco to ask Ron about Daphne and then segway into telling him about what he had learned.  

But with Pansy attached to his side and seeing how both Ron and Hermione were actively avoiding each other... 

Draco was stunned at even the possibility hinting from their awkward avoidance. They looked miserable. 

It was as if Hermione and Ron were complete strangers in different houses seeing how they were avoiding each other.  

The meeting went on and the first assignments were announced for sign up. A list was being passed around to select what duties to volunteer for. From what Draco gathered there was Train Patrol, First Year Orientation, First Night Patrol, and Tutoring Circle. 

Considering that Train Patrol was the easily the best duty to get out of the way, those slots were nearly all taken. Pansy looked over his should as he mulled over what he wanted to do. 

Draco took the quill from a fifth year Ravenclaw, Mildred Clearwater, and volunteered to escort the Slytherin First Years to the common room and tour the school grounds so they knew where their classes will be.  

Pansy argued with him that it was easier to patrol the train instead but he couldn’t resist the want to hole himself back into his compartment to rest a bit more. Instead of thanking him for taking the harder duties away from Pansy, she also volunteered to escort the First Years as well. 

Although she didn’t go down without talking his ear off, complaining about it. Draco shot back his own dismissive comments back to Pansy and they would both circle around this useless argument. It was a small tiff that somewhat overshadowed the tense silence of Ron and Hermione.  

“Do we have a problem?” A Seventh year Head Boy, Roger Davies, glared. Draco cocked his head towards Pansy waiting for her to complain. As much bark there was in her, Pansy had no bite. She huffed and walked away, shouldering off that Ravenclaw girl, Clearwater.  

Displeased with her rotten attitude, Draco followed Pansy muttering an apology to the girl with bright clear honey-colored eyes. There was something that forced him to pause for a moment before looking over to Hermione. 

Ron had finally approached her once the sign up list had made it’s rounds to her. She whispered something over to Ron before they decided their own assignments.  

“It’s not a problem,” Mildred Clearwater smiled. 

Draco cleared his throat and excused himself from Clearwater and waited for the meeting to be over. Pansy had her nose pointed in the air as if she was blaming Draco for forcing her to take up duties she didn’t want to do.  

Once everything was placed in order, they were dismissed. 

Draco nearly missed Hermione storming past him, a disgruntled look on her face while Ron threw his hands up in the air. He had been trying to block out the whining coming from Pansy but there was something that felt off. 

There was something was amiss with the Golden Trio.  

Unfortunately, there was no time to figure out why. Ron and Hermione both stormed off in different directions leading Draco to believe that perhaps sharing his tidbits with them was not advised. It was definitely the wrong time.

By the time Draco got back to his compartment with his friends, he went straight to sleep. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

The Welcoming Feast went without a hitch. The Sorting Hat sang, Professor Dumbledore gave the student a fair warning in his opening speech, and a new Defense Against the Dark Art’s emerged.  

Professor Dolores Umbridge. 

Draco’s initial impression was that she looked like a squished mandrake dressed in knitted pinks. Goyle said she looked like a rejected mini troll.  

Perhaps that was the most accurate description they came up with. Aside from her very distinct appearance, Draco had no real opinion over her. 

That is until she insisted on interrupting Dumbledore’s speech. After that very odd introduction from Umbridge who went on and on about the Ministry’s interest of their high quality education of their magic. 

Most of the Slytherin Table found her irritating after she interrupted Dumbledore with an even more abysmal speech. 

As wonderful as Dumbledore was, his speeches after a long day of travel weren’t short enough. It was mutually agreed that Umbridge stepping up and prolonging the speech was nearly unforgivable to a school full of students with the pains of hunger.  

Draco feasted the moment the food had appeared before him, building up a healthy appetite over the summer. He contemplated a third plate but decided against it.  

The Feast concluded soon after they were all satisfied and after Draco had done his prefect duties on his first night back, escorting the First Years to their dorms with glittering eyes of awe as they toured the shortest route from the Great Hall to the dungeons. 

Once that was done, and the First Years were tucked into their beds. Draco excused himself to pay the Headmaster a visit. It was more difficult to slip pass Pansy than to come across a few other prefects who had taken the first night patrol.  

They all assumed he was also on patrol that night too.  

Nevertheless, Draco had reached the Headmasters office promptly thirty minutes after the welcoming feast had concluded. 

“Are you sure of it, Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore raised his brows.  

Draco confident in his retellings, nodded, glad to finally have that pebble out of his shoe. 

Draco added, “Sephina was the one who made me aware so, unfortunately, I do not have a firsthand account on the meeting that was held. First, because I was not supposed to be at the Manor at the time, and second, I couldn’t really stomach...” 

Dumbledore nodded as if he understood exactly what Draco was referring to without having to finish his thoughts.  

“But yes, you are correct in your concern that they infiltrated the Ministry and Voldemort has an invested interest in my father’s plan to find the prophecy. He was quite convincing when he said it would greatly aid his efforts.” Draco shifted around in his seat, “Another thing that Sephina did provide me with was my father’s journal, which he went into detail about the purpose of the infiltration.” 

Snape cleared his throat, “May I add, Professor.” 

“Go on, Severus.” Dumbledore waved his hand.  

“Now that we have the names of Death eaters that have dug their claws into the Ministry of Magic,” Snape took a deep breath, “Would it not be wise to have extra eyes on the Department of Mysteries? Perhaps another Order member?” 

“Aurors being summoned to the Department would be too obvious, they will know that we know what they are looking for.” Dumbledore sighed, “Shacklebolt should be enough for now.” 

“Perhaps, Weasley?” Snape shrugged, “He is close to Saul Croaker, is he not?” 

Draco watched the two wizards bounce ideas off each other, recalling one for the wizards that joined them for that very odd Christmas meal together.  

Dumbledore shrugged, “I could ask Arthur but if I do recall, Draco here has made it clear that Saul Croaker visited his home last Christmas, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Draco silently nodded to confirm recalling the Christmas Dinner he was just thinking about. 

“He could be implicated,” Dumbledore caved into his seat, looking very much human than his omniscient Headmaster. It was the first time a pang of a deep seeded fear took hold of Draco. It felt a bit unnerving for him as if someone had unmasked Dumbledore core.  

He never saw Dumbledore worried or even doubtful. He’s only known his a cool and collected wizard. Albeit, a bit odd and mysterious but never human. 

“There may be a chance, small perhaps, that Saul is under the Imperious curse," Dumbledore pursed his lips to the side in thought, “Memories could have been charmed away, too. He would be unreliable to question or even consider to have Croaker on our side.” 

Snape also collapsed in his seat looking defeated for a moment and a sudden wave of rising panic began to bubble in Draco core. Did they truly have no clue how to go about protecting the Department of Mysteries? They were the greatest Wizards of all time, were they not? 

“They have their oath as Unspeakables,” Snape weakly added, “That has to count for something.” 

“Yes, well, we have other pressing matters,” Dumbledore closed his eyes gingerly, clasping his hands together, “Harry has gotten a bit more sensitive as I suspected.” 

“I’ll see to it immediately,” Snape shot a glare at Draco, “Although it is a dire skill for Harry to pick up, I believe we have a bit of time on our hands. Surely, if Voldemort was aware of this connection, he wouldn’t have hesitated to plan something. Harry would have made the commotion to barge in.” 

“You believe Voldemort doesn’t know yet?” Dumbledore mused huskily, staring off to the side at what looked like a cabinet of different sized vials. 

“I believe that he still settling into his power,” Snape continued, “I don’t believe that Voldemort will be aware as Harry is but it’s only a matter of time. The best course of action is to continue to limit your time with Harry. Best to keep Voldemort in the dark. And build up his walls;” 

“Anything else?” Dumbledore piped up. 

“Yes. Please. Fire Dolores,” Snape swiftly said, “It's only been a night and I fear that I won’t be able to stand that insufferable woman for an entire year. Fire her.” 

“We have no others.” Dumbledore sadly pointed out. 

“I will teach-” 

“No, absolutely not,” Dumbledore shook his head, “We can manage a year with the ministry's eye here, as you very well know, nobody lasts more than a year as professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. What I can’t risk is losing you.” 

Snape and Draco sat still, stunned in silence. Dumbledore turned his attention back to Draco who suddenly wished he could transform into a vase and blend into the background. Instead, he absentmindedly picked on a loose thread on the hem of his robe to look as preoccupied as possible. 

“It is truly a shame that you couldn’t bring that journal in.” Dumbledore said, “It would have been an extraordinary insight.” 

Draco paused and thought of the two pages that he had come across before Sephina had taken the journal back so that his father was unaware that someone had read his private thoughts.  

Draco knew his father’s handwriting. He’d seen it a few times in documents and letters he had written. His writing was usually bold and stately, a flair of arrogance looped around in his letters. 

In contrast of what Draco knew, his father’s journal writing was desperate and rushed, as if he needed to get his thoughts out of his head before they consumed him. The letters were messy and ununiformed. Ink blots staining the corners of the pages, obstructing some sentences which caused a bit of a headache for Draco who was trying to read in a rush. 

Draco gulped, “Before Voldemort returned, there was something Father feared. If Voldemort ever found out, he wrote it was a sentence comparable to death. It’s something to do with a diary he was instructed to keep safe. That it was something he didn’t know until recently that is invaluable to Voldemort and that that’s reason the Department of Mysteries came about. It was a way to correct a fatal mistake in the case that it was revealed he had lost it.” 

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged looks.  

Dumbledore scratched his beard, “At least we know your father’s motives.” 

“Perhaps he began plotting since Christmas last year considering their dinner with the Unspeakables,” Snape mused. 

Draco pursed his lips, thinking of the very first sign of something amiss. He shook his head in disagreement. 

“Earlier,” Draco paused to collect his thoughts, “Perhaps when he was told of Voldemort’s latest plan to return, father saw the certainty in their eyes. Maybe that’s when he started to reevaluate...” 

“Excellent observation Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore rubbed his long silvery beard deep in thought.  

“Professor,” Draco interjected, “I remember that particular diary that he wrote about in his journal. It was second year, wasn’t it? Something to do with the Chamber of Secrets.” 

An uncomfortable silence settled once more and this time, it was Snape who looked like he was holding his breath. 

“I heard father say he was going to use it to have Mr. Weasley sacked from the Ministry when they found out that Ginny was in possession of a dark artefact and that it would reopen the Chamber of Secrets.” 

Draco paused.  

“In his journal, Father said something about not knowing the truth of what the diary was. He thought it was just a dark keepsake to hold on to, to protect.” 

Silence grew and Draco continued when the pair of adults stared at him almost bewildered. 

"Aunt Bellatrix also received a keepsake for her to guard.” Draco licked his lips recalling the desperate scribbles of his father, piecing together his thoughts and conclusions, “He believed the diary to be a ho- horcrux?” 

There was a heavy silence that settled upon them, and it almost felt like Draco had ruined a moment. As if he had said something that he shouldn’t have said. Despite the tense moment, Draco couldn’t help himself.  

“Professor Dumbledore, what is a horcrux?” Draco asked. 

“I think you’ve pushed past your bed time,” Snape interjected, “Even for a Prefect.” 

"I believe we have quite a task, Severus.” Dumbledore muttered into his balled-up hands pressing into his mouth in thought.  

Snape let out a small scoff, “Sir, there is another one. He made two.” 

“He may have made more than that,” Dumbledore cleared his throat, “Of that, I am now certain. Which means that I must start looking for answers. It cannot wait.” 

“Sir-” Snape began. Draco was beginning to feel like he was being left out of a huge chunk of a puzzle, despite having what felt like valuable information seeing how concern both his Professors were growing.  

“You know it is our only hope,” Dumbledore smiled weary, “I need you to be my eye when I’m gone.” 

“Gone?” Draco pipped up, “What do you mean, Professor?” 

“Don’t meddle, Draco.” Snape snapped.  

Dumbledore smiled warmly at his pupil, “Do not worry Mr. Malfoy. As headmaster, I always find myself out of the office a few times every year. Considering the precarious situation with Voldemort’s return and the Ministry’s involvement this year, I would really like having someone I can fully trust when I’m out.” 

Draco turned to Snape. 

“Yes, Snape,” Dumbledore confirmed, “As well as you, Mr. Malfoy.” 

Before Draco could register his surprise, Dumbledore explained his reasoning.  

“Afterall, it would be foolish to dismiss how insightful you were last year. You were a great assistance and you’re already proving to be our invaluable asset now as a student.” Dumbledore’s warm smile softened Draco’s anxiety still buried within himself after struggling to rid himself of the filth of Voldemort’s visit.  

“I sincerely hope you had a nice holiday this summer even if you were cooped up all those months.” Dumbledore cleared his throat as he changed the subject. Snape let out an audible sigh. “I sense that Snape had his work cut out for him.” 

“His stubbornness is as challenging as Potter’s.” Snape announced sending a piercing glare at Draco who scowled at the floor, “However, I hate to admit that I’m impressed at how deep Mr. Malfoy buried his memories. As hard as I tried to access his memories, ones that I simply know are there, there are none. It is a hopeful prospect... if Draco ever comes across Voldemort.” 

Draco gulped down a foul bitter taste in his mouth, focusing on his feet to ground the reminder of what Voldemort’s presence felt like. 

“Very well,” Dumbledore nodded, “Have you decided your course of action this year?” 

Draco blinked rapidly, unsure if he had spoken directly to him. 

“I don’t follow, Professor.” Draco responded, ripping his sights off the wooden floor. 

“I presume that after spending summer with Harry and his friends, you might be conflicted on whether to continue-” 

“No, sir. There is no confliction,” Draco interrupted, “I rather not complicate it. Professor Snape has worked hard, aiding me with all the tools necessary to protect everyone around me. I believe it would be foolish to let all that time go to waste by continuing a public friendship. It would raise more questions and the best course of action is continuing to move in secrecy.” 

As disappointed as Dumbledore looked, he nodded. Draco knew how much Dumbledore wanted him to embrace their side but, by publicly doing so, it would be like showing their hand of cards to their adversaries. 

Best not. 

Even the thought of spending time with Granger around the castle, with the entire student body watching, scared the blonde teenager. He was ashamed that he was comfortable with his decision but only because the other choice was terrifying.  

Could he envision doing a bit of flying with Ron and Harry around the pitch after class? Exchanging pleasantries with Ginny? Laughing at the twin’s jokes? Even strolling around the castle with Hermione after their Prefect meetings?  

Draco’s thoughts trailed off in fantasies of patrolling the corridors late at night with Hermione. 

“Then, perhaps it would be wise to task you to keep an eye on Professor Umbridge.” Dumbledore suggested, “She would expect you to linger close anyways, considering your father and her work together at the Ministry.” 

Draco nodded, accepting his duties as Dumbledore’s eyes, finally understanding that this is what his life is now becoming.  

Snape began to direct him toward the door but Draco froze in his tracks, unable to hold in what felt like the most crucial bit of information he was able to scrape out of Sephina.  

“Professor,” Draco gulped, “They’re planning to aid in the escape of some Death Eaters in Azkaban, and I don’t think they plan on failing.”