gettin' through still has a cost

When Draco is roused from his thoughts to see Harry Potter and the other two thirds of the Golden Trio in his ballroom, he wonders if his life could possibly get any worse.

He could lie, he will definitely lie, if they ask him to identify Potter, but whatever magic they have done to his face to obfuscate his identity will not last long, which means unfortunately revealing his true allegiances to everyone in this room.

His Aunt Bella is already teeming with manic energy, poking and prodding him to answer, and his father glares at him which stopped being frightening when he saw him beg for life at the knees of despot.

He wonders what Snape will do if this doesn’t work out, he hopes he can figure out a good cover story.

He gestures for his father to move closer, and thinks about how most grown wizards are never expecting a physical attack. He headbutts his father, and cuts his hand open in a quick move, he blasts his Aunt Bella in the back glad when she does not rise again.

He stares at the snatchers before dropping to his knees and activating the wards - expelling them from the room, and creating a small opening to allow the others to leave. His father has recovered enough to try to wrestle his own wand from Draco’s hands, and he is shocked when he flies back into the wall.

He glances up and sees Potter with his wand outstretched, they both stare at each other for a moment. He can see Weasley and Granger just behind him wands raised, he sighs, “You all should not be here. You must leave immediately,” he says pushing past them.

Granger catches his elbow, and he snatches it back. He hisses almost automatically, “We go down to the dungeons, I release the prisoners, and you all leave. Before Bellatrix has a chance to wake up!” He walks quickly down the stairs trying to not think about how lucky they have been so far. He feels the solid presence of Potter at his back and tries not to find any comfort in it.

As he unlocks the dungeon gates he can’t help but smirk, “Luna, I have a present for you,” and he waves Bellatrix’s wand over his head. She stares at him a beat before, noticing the Gryffindors are there too. Potter glances at the occupants and then his eyes don’t leave Draco’s until Draco tugs his eyes away.

“Oh, good, we are being rescued. Draco, does this mean we get to leave?” And Draco nods, rousing the other inhabitants of the cells, after handing her the wand.

“Ok, Granger, you can apparate out, and once you have left I will change the wards back to how they were.” He says briskly, and she nods quickly in return. Potter frowns at him, he seems to be debating speaking.

Luna does not join hands with the rest of the group. She stares at Ollivander’s offered hand, “Draco, you aren’t coming? I thought we were being rescued?” And her soft whimsical lilt is gone.

Draco exhales loudly, “Luna, you must go! You are being rescued. But you need to leave and I need to stay. I must remain here, there are things required of me,” he feels slightly queasy at the notion, “I can still recover from this and keep my spot in the inner circle, but only if you go now!” He says pushing softly.

Luna sniffles, “I thought we were both going to be free. You can't stay here Draco, I see how it hurts you, how he hurts you” and his cousin has always had the Sight but now he knows that she has seen far worse things than he ever wanted her too.

He guides her hands to Ollivander’s, offering him a nod, and then turns to Potter, “Take care of my cousin, please,” and in a pop they are gone.

He thinks quickly, as he races up the steps to see his Aunt rousing, he obliviates her and his father gracelessly. Mercilessly, he knows that he can not leave them with blankness in their minds lest they grow to suspect him more than a whimpering spineless weakling, he creates something to go in the space.

The snatchers, seeing as they are far from innocent, will take his Aunt’s wrath. He is glad that he has so much practice daydreaming being anywhere but here within the Dark Lord’s grasp, that he can create something they will both believe.

When he runs through the story with Severus later, “The snatchers tried to haggle with Aunt Bella, they brought the chandelier down hitting Bella knocking her wand practically into Potter’s own hands. Father was swiftly stunned by the snatchers and then Potter managed to stun me and Granger released the prisoners. Weasley had Imperio’d the snatchers, to apparate them out of here and the other snatchers ran off,” which, while a wild chain of events, has been corroborated by both Lucius and Bellatrix who awoke to a still stunned Draco.

Severus nods, “A likely story. I’m not sure how I feel about you becoming such a prolific liar nor how imaginative you have become,” which makes Draco bare his teeth, ”When the Dark Lord lives in your home, you become quite good at imagining being anywhere else,” and he leaves the ‘When the Dark Lord requires you at his feet, you get quite good at pretending you are not there at all’ unsaid.

Also, unsaid is the looks traded between him and Potter. They had lit something in Draco, that he thought had long been extinguished. Potter had looked angry, and tired and he looked like Draco did, hopeless but still unable to stop trying.

—

He blinks blearily, tears creating hot tracks down his face. He can still feel the fire licking at his back and he can not rid himself of the look on Crabbe’s face before he died.

He stands slightly leaning against the wall, and wonders if his other friends are safe. Potter is facing him, eyeing him warily and Draco supposes that it could be worse - he could be cursing him.

Goyle is obviously stunned. Weasley and Granger are staring into each others eyes and suddenly like all the noise had been raised to 100, the sounds of the battle surround them again.

They go their separate ways. Weasley claps him on the shoulder, Granger gives him a fierce nod and Potter, he just looks at him. Unspoken is the knowledge that he can not keep hiding which side he is on. Or that he could try but he doubts that any of the stubborn Gryffindors would let him. An understanding passes between them, that maybe when this is all over Draco can explain his part in it, and the trio can explain how they keep running into each other at pivotal points.

—

Potter was dead, and everything seemed out of Draco’s control, and then Potter was not dead. Things were still out of his control.

Prior to the Dark Lord's gloating, Draco had been healing everyone he had come across. Severus had always stressed the importance of being able to heal oneself, that in their line of business one should never have to depend on another. People had been scared when he pointed his wand at them, there was not always time to explain what he was doing. It was only after the pain subsided and they were up and fighting again, that people whispered and murmured their thanks.

His Slytherins were few and far inbetween his temporary patients, he was glad that as he recognized many faces from Galas and Sunday meeting with his father. No child should have to face their parent wand in hand, fighting to protect their friends.

After it had been luck that had one of the Weasley twins pressed up against his back as they sent off curses, they made a formidable team. Still he had been just as surprised by his quick thinking when he instinctively shielded them from the rubble. It could have killed both of them, a chorus of “Fred!”s was heard and Draco took his chance to chase after white blonde hair the same shade as his own.The Weasley’s could keep each other safe, while he never had the chance to stand up to his father before, he refused to allow him to lay waste to more lives. He thinks about the irony and the tragedy of it all. He wonders what it says that his father, who he had looked up to for so long now was his albatross.

He sees his father strike indiscriminately, the carnage a terrible trail he follows. He hears the thud as a young woman’s body hits the ground, the cry of “Tonks!” from his old DA Professor Lupin, and something in him snaps.

He raises his wand and casts against his father, strikes him in the back, betrays him like Lucius had betrayed good sense, joining up with a megalomaniac again. He meets Lupin’s eyes, and he can’t help the slightly crazed laugh that leaves his lips.

He thinks that his father has died young, poisoned and wrong. The effects of his fathers choices would mar him like stained glass - it is strange to think that when Lucius had spent so much time trying to craft Draco into something he deemed respectable he had inadvertently put him on this course.

Out on the lawn of Hogwarts, his father lies face down, disgraced. His master is losing and the tides of war, ever fickle like Severus always said, were changing. He sees the lights finally meet their mark, one spell successfully overpowering the other, he sees Potter still standing.

The Dark Lord obliterated, falling to ashes and then into something even smaller, nothing left for even the most fervent of followers to hold onto. The monster is defeated, like a fairytale, but Draco knows that a happily ever after is not within reach. He’s too irreparably changed, broken beyond repair, to even know how happiness looks on him. He still grins anyway.

—

‘This is not giving up’ Draco thinks, as he stares through the bars of his cell for likely the final time. Despite what others might think, ‘This is not giving up, this is owning up’ and the war was won. What would it have all been for, if even now he didn’t have to face the consequences of his actions?

He feels unspeakably tired, drained and morose. He did not think when the war had ended he would be thrown in a cell quite so fast. If he is honest he had not really thought much past the end of the war, when it was happening.

Every moment felt dangerous and pointless and minacious. Every move he made he felt the eyes of others praying for his downfall and the Dark Lord’s gaze was especially heavy with the want to punish and torment.

He clenches his fists, even without the Dementors, in Azkaban there was an ease to falling into dark memories. He breathes deeply, he constructs solid walls around the moments that he refuses to let plague him.

His friends had already come, more people than he had expected to come had. Even with his mother in the wind and his father dead, the loyalty to the Malfoy name was strong - many people from Hogwarts had come, and their parents too.

It was odd. He couldn’t really understand why they would come, there was now only shame to be associated with his family's name. Still they came and exchanged pleasantries and shook his hand. It was odd, Draco had spent so much time around Death Eaters and the Dark Lord he almost felt like he had missed some crucial event that made even the neutralest of families come and sit across from him.

He was glad he was not in too haggard of a state, that none looked upon him with pity.

He does bring up these visits to Blaise, Pansy and Theo. He does not allow them to come often, he isn’t exactly sure how long he has been in Azkaban, as the days and nights seem to melt together amidst the screams and shouts of the people he had betrayed, scoring his nightmares.

Theo just shakes his head, and tries to bargain with him again, to allow them to come to his trial. Pansy seems of the mind that since he is on trial there is not any way he could actually keep them from coming but Draco just pouts at her until she turns away. Blaise is the most angry, unafraid to remind him that if Snape was a hero, then Draco was too.

It’s a sentiment that makes Draco rage, quiet and cold, “I had to do unexplainable things, I had to hurt people, I put people in danger. It does not matter if Severus and I thought we were doing the right thing, we were treating people like pawns, children's lives like they didn’t matter!” he asserts.

Pansy snorts, “You were a spy! You weren’t even of age when you were recruited! Dying for this, like this, is only going to make you a martyr for the wrong sort!” Theo nods in agreement.

Something about how she said tugs at him slightly, it makes him think about being a first year and arguing with Potter and Weasley. It makes him think about being sorted into Slytherin, and how it had made him his real friends. He would do anything for them, and he has perhaps allowed that to motivate him farther than an enchanted hat had meant it too.

“I have to do this. I am doing this and there is nothing you can do to stop me! If you respected me and my wishes you would support the fact that I must be held accountable for my part in this!” he cries and maybe it’s a tad manipulative. Hopefully though it will make his friends stand down.

Blaise and Pansy look contrite but Theo scoffs, “Don’t do that! We respect you, we just don’t understand why you are so hard pressed to die! The war is over, why must it keep taking things from us? It’s taken our adolescence, our peace of mind, our families - why does it get you, too?” he shouts.

Draco swallows harshly, he has never liked it when Theo got upset, much too sensitive to him as he hardly ever shows anything more intense than idle irritation in public. He can’t explain why he knows he deserves this.

He has tried over and over, he knows that the line he has been giving about pawns and people has lost its effectiveness. He just can’t put into words, the blood on his hands, the people who begged for help that he withheld, the moments fo true terror when torture did not faze him anymore. His own and what he did to others.

As helpful as the information he and Snape provided to the Order was, it can’t outweigh the damage he has done. For Severus, it was different, he had spent years perfecting his ability of blending into the background and making himself reliable in the Dark Lord’s eyes.

Draco had caught his eyes for all the wrong reasons, his father a disappointment and the Dark lord a cruel master, himself young and powerful. He hadn’t known then what having his attention would mean, the unspeakable pain and unforgettable sensation of floating away from his body. He could not have fathomed what the Dark Lord’s hand in his hair would take from him. It can’t outweigh the damage he allowed to be done to himself.

He wonders as he stares at his friends, if they would ever understand, the Dark Lord may be dead. But he had killed Draco long before now, it was time now for him to catch up. Tom might have dissipated into the wind, but he lingered in Draco’s memories, and his waking nightmares. He would never really be dead, not for Draco.

He clears his throat, “Someone has to pay for what I’ve done,”.

—

Draco decides to stand. He keeps his head up and does not ignore the stares and the whispers and the insults. The room is full of noise, sobbing and screaming, a sharp ringing in his ear making his eyes water. He has spent months slouched down, head bent, eyes on the floor kissing the ring of a man who had unleashed an untamed evil on the English wizarding society. He was not going to cower now, that time of his life was over. He looks up at the faces of witches and wizards he had known personally, people who have seen him grow up attached to his father’s hip, a spitting image of his father and with an air of elegance and arrogance that rivaled his mother.

They stare back at him unblinking, unmoved likely by the idea of youth given how it had not protected people they knew. The new faces - and there are many, many new faces - do not bother to hide their hatred, this trial is a farce in several ways but he would be the last person to admit it.

He doesn’t flinch as several spells hit the shield spell he did for himself wandlessly. His wand - not the one he never got back from Potter, which would likely never be his again - the one mother had pressed into his hands the very first night they had returned to the manor, he had hoped they would never have to fight across from each other again - it's a foolish thing hope, and it should never be applied to them. She had disappeared that very night, unable to reconcile the boy she loved with the man he had become.

They had taken that wand before locking him unceremoniously in a cell before telling him his trial would be taking place in the coming weeks.

Now, he does not bother with anything as childish as relief. He does not look back to see who had thrown the curse, he ignores the shouts of alarm, and the ruckus of Aurors likely restraining and pulling the perpetrators from the crowd. He thinks bitterly, about how the Malfoy name will live in infamy, cursed and hated and how he will likely die with the mark of a man who ruined him on his arm and how children should not have to fight in wars, children should not have to make up for their fathers mistakes and how children should not be left around cruel men who wore darkness and evil like a crown unless you wanted to break them into something unrecognizable.

He is glad that he has practiced under the cruel tutelage of his Aunt Bella to hide his thoughts and control his expression. He tries not to think about how she thought it was funny when he cried and how the Dark Lord said he was pretty when he cried.

He is not surprised when the air suddenly feels oppressive and the silence of the room nearly chokes him, he is surprised to realize that it is not a silencing spell, but rather the arrival of certain guests that cause it. The tangle of Potter’s magic is like a punch in the face from the pure power it sings with, different then it was before when they were at school. But he has to guess that coming back from the dead and then killing one of the most powerful dark wizards since Grindelwald would probably have some effects.

He still stays facing forward, he has never wanted more to turn around and smirk and taunt Potter about his ugly scar then right now, but given the fact that he is hoping this group might offer him some leniency and just kill him rather then make him live without magic, or until he dies naturally in Azkaban he shouldn’t antagonize the new god.

The trial begins without any ceremony - the idea that they had been waiting for Potter and his party to arrive is not lost on Draco. It makes him want to hiss and screech that his father will hear about this unfairness but his father is dead, and he can’t even blame anyone else given that it was his own spell that had done him in.

William Laughingfoot spoke, the spokesperson of Wizengamot, “Draco Malfoy, you have denied the use of Veritaserum in order to prove your innocence or guilt in this trial, is that correct?” Draco nods, glad suddenly that he won’t have to spill his guts in front of people that would probably use every horrible thing that has ever happened to him against him.

He almost wants to sigh, impatience and impertinence rising in him, everyone here knows he has the mark, that he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts - the rest, the minutiae does not matter - he is guilty and everyone knows it. He knows though that the people need it, they need to tell their stories and tragedies and they need to see the person that caused it face punishment.

He knows that every person in this room likely knows someone killed by him, or because of him, or because of his actions. If the last thing he ever does is give someone the peace of knowing that they said what they had to him because of the pain his actions caused, at least he knows he will die with some type of dignity intact.

Wizengamot is murmuring among themselves, and Laughingfoot’s voice booms through the noise, “In the past, in civil times, the request of the exclusion of the potion Veritaserum has been a time honored tradition, has been followed. However, now after these unprecedented uncivil times, we do not have the same luxury.” and Draco can’t help the chill that overcomes him, he feels the temperature of the room drops as well and he tries to take a subtle deep breath - his magic reacting to his emotions brings his frigid panic to everyone's awareness.

Laughingfoot stares, “Mr. Malfoy, please control yourself, before you freeze someone to death. If we have to bind your magic for the duration of your trial we will not hesitate,” and suddenly like the sun bursting forth from behind the sky, a gust of warmth returns the room to an adequate temperature, “Thank you, now carrying on Veritaserum has already been administered.”

Draco tries not to laugh, of course Potter with his Savior Complex would make the room warm again, probably to keep everyone safe from the evil Death Eater. Next to him, the barrister he has been ignoring since he arrived, shakes his head slightly, and now Draco can recall the first cup of tea he had drunk in weeks, that had been set next to the quiet man.

“Veritaserum, it does not work on those highly skilled in Occlumency,” Draco speaks, his clear voice ringing out over the pandemonium that had broken out. The prosecutor, that Draco had never bothered to learn the name of nods, “That is true, Veritaserum typically can be beaten by a skilled mind, and enough preparation, if we were hoping to deter your abilities with just shock alone I would be the first to say that it was a waste of time. Your dear, Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange, did often boast of your abilities in letters to other key players rivaling it to only hers and Voldemort of course.” The casual use of name, forces the first flinch from him, and he is joined by the majority of the room in that motion.

“However, we were rather lucky, someone had written an experimental way around that issue, a new way to brew the potion. The only difference in the final product is a slight change in coloration from clear to a faint-” and Draco can’t help himself. He tries. His fists clench tightly, “f-faint tea brown. It targets the part of the brain that helps control emotions. It is theorized that if the potion taker has lowered inhibitions and an increased inability to focus then the usefulness of Veritaserum is increased by 30%. Yes, I remember, I wrote that essay for Severus in my 4th year, thank you very much. Glad to know after his death all of his things have been pawed through by you animals,” and Draco wants to punch the prosecutor across his face for the look of delight he wears. He can hear the approval of the crowd and he wants to be sick.

He tries separately to reach inwards and control himself - to wipe away the emotions and replace them with brick walls even his own genius can’t penetrate - but the prosecutor is speaking again.

“You speak of Severus Snape with a lot of familiarity. Were you aware that he was actually on the side of the Light?” and Draco’s thoughts whirl around his mind and his mouth is moving, “Of course I knew he was on the side of the Light. He was my godfather, he was my close-” and cuts himself off. He can feel his own satisfaction increase and the prosecutor looks irritated, and Draco decides he’s in for a galleon now.

He spits the blood from his mouth and doesn’t wipe his face, gritting his teeth, “Ask another question and maybe I’ll deign to answer” which probably only proves his own work right.

Draco Malfoy, in this moment was nearly unrecognizable - not in the way he had been before, where time and horrible things had changed the straightness of his back, the way he held his head and the tone of his voice. No, in this moment, Draco Malfoy was undone, a wild high-octane thing that unless you had known him you would not know he possessed. Draco fights a shudder, because if he is going to be unraveled he refuses to make it easy.

The perfect pureblood image of him is shattered and it's blatantly obvious. “I want to keep talking about the late Professor Snape. You said he was your godfather, and we all know that he was your head of house. Was he aware that your mission was to kill Dumbledore?”

Draco gnashes his teeth together and wonders if he could go mad enough to beat a man to death with his own fists. Spitting again, blood hitting the ground wetly, “Yes, he did know, he did not know what I was doing to try to achieve it,” he tries to swallow the next word but can’t the way they come choked out, “That’s the purpose of a double blind,” he breathes a sigh of relief as the effects of the potion ease his tense muscles, “I don’t like you,” he remarks candidly to the man,”You are nothing like Snape.”

It's a statement he doesn’t mean to release, it seems to land between them, exposing something previously hidden to the prosecutor. “You must think very highly of him,” Laughingfoot prods.

It’s not even a question, merely a suggestion, but the part of him that always wants to extol on the complexities of his mentor runs with it.

“Even when he had no idea what was going on, he was on my side in his own way. I didn’t always understand that then, I thought,” and suddenly he feels a wave of dizziness overcome him, he shakes his head, “I thought lots of really horrible things about him, but now I know he was trying to protect me. And I never got to tell him how much I appr-” and the prosecutor cuts him off, “What was Snape protecting you from?” and Draco can feel himself flush.

He narrows his eyes and tries to remember when he sat down, “He has been protecting me my whole life. A second father figure to me.” and he tries to remember to stop. He feels unkempt, like he is on the very edge of sanity, and he could lose control at any moment.

The prosecutor nods, prodding further, “You said before he died that you thought bad things about him, why?” and Draco feels tears welling in his eyes. He wonders blankly if he looks like mother.

“I thought-,” he stumbles momentarily, overcome with the horrible feeling of unwanted hands in his hair, “I thought he knew about Tom.” It feels incomplete and it hurts and he tries to fight it. The potion is cracking him open and his mind is scrambling to push things back into the darkness.

“Who is Tom?” the barrister asks quizzically. It feels like a direct hit to Draco’s sternum.

He gasps, the pain of biting his cheek oddly grounding, “Tom Marvolo Riddle is the Dark Lord. He is Voldemort. I thought Sev had known what he was.” A horrible thought. To think that Sev would have left Draco there had he known. Draco should have known better, should have tried harder to not catch the Dark Lord's eyes, he should have done a lot of things differently.

He glances at his hands and thinks for a second how easy it would be to just answer these questions - to stop fighting every single question just to fail each time. He knows that floating away and feeling nothing won’t help either, even if his brain tries to protect him from this horror, his mouth will still move and utter the ugly truth he has been hiding.

He thinks about how weak he must be to think that he could escape this - even in death the Dark Lord will always be a dark shadow covering him. Inescapable. Always unwanted.

In a show of brilliance that Draco would never have suspected from someone who worked for the Ministry, “Riddle. That’s not like any pureblood name I remember. Why would Voldemort tell you his real name?” and just like that Draco feels like he is in a frying pan as the heat turns up.

He considers the mark on his arm, covered by his long sleeve. The why, it’s subjective. He doesn’t really know why the Dark Lord did anything. He can guess, he can use the information that was given to him directly from the source. But the Dark Lord is the Dark Lord, Tom is Tom, and he is evil, and unknowable. He can still postulate why.

“It was a game for him. The Dark Lord knew I would never tell anyone, and that no one would ever believe that they were subservient to a half-blood. He knew I would never be able to explain how I knew. And I thought Sev knew and let it happen anyways. I thought he was a coward for not stopping it,” and once again the warmth is back. It prickles at his neck and Potter’s magic seems to have spread out over the room, like static raising the hair on his arms.

He is achingly aware and unaware of the room, can’t stop his shaking even when the pressure of the question fades.

“For not stopping what? What was Snape supposed to stop Voldemort/Tom RIddle from doing?” and all of sudden everything feels too bright.

It is a question with hundreds of answers. Hurting people, lying to everyone, killing people Draco had known for years, killing people Draco had never met, keeping people in the dungeons with no food or water or light. From using Unforgivables on innocent people, from him using the Cruciatus curse on Draco, from the very first time he’d taught Draco to protect his mind so well he couldn’t see everything Draco was hiding.

“He should have stopped him from ruining me,” and Draco trembles, “He didn’t know though. I blamed him and he never knew. I could have told him but I didn’t because I was ashamed. I thought it would be worse to speak out loud what we both knew. Isn’t it funny, two spies not speaking, thinking everything unsaid was clear? I thought he must have known that the Dark Lord took everything from me-” and the room felt blisteringly hot now, and Draco thinks of his shield spell glistening in front of him, and he prays he doesn’t accidentally kill himself.

It wouldn’t be right after he decided he should die as punishment for his mistakes to take that from everyone else, but also he refuses to entertain this any longer. The issue with lowering inhibitions means that it is easier to be brave and also easier to be stupid. There is no voice in his head telling him this was a bad plan.

The voice had been silenced by the potion, and Draco wonders what it says about him that he would rather be seen as crazy than pitied.

He is throwing his head back into his shield spell, which rocks him forward, the chair arms coming to life around his wrists, but it doesn’t matter as he begins to bang his head against the shield spell - he does not stop when blood runs into his eyes, he does not stop when multiple aurors try to get past his spell and instead he welcomes the darkness that comes next.

–

When he comes to, he’s in a dark classical looking living room. As he uncurls from the tight ball he tends to sleep in, cracking his back and letting out a soft yawn. The soft murmuring he had been ignoring halts and several faces turn quickly toward him.

Potter, Granger, and Weasley sit across from Blaise, Pansy and Theo everyone looks tired and uncomfortable.

Blaise breaks the silence with a scoff, “Honestly, Draco, forbidding everyone from coming to the trial just for you to try to bash your own skull open is dramatic. Even for you,” he frowns and Theo scoffs, “What it was, was incredibly stupid. You could have really hurt yourself,” and Pansy nods without speaking.

There is a beat of silence. And another before Pansy and Potter both speak at the same time, “Well, are you going to say anything?”, both glare at each other angrily.

Draco sighs, “I didn’t realize you guys were done with the lecture. And in my defense, I was drugged - it literally makes doing stupid things easier,” he gestures vaguely.

Granger cuts in, “Right, about that - the modifications to the standard Veritaserum, you came up with that formula in 4th year? It was incredible work - almost unbelievable, nothing that we were working in fourth year required that extensive of research,” she glances around as Draco sees Potter roll his eyes.

“There was no question there Granger. However, as I am sure an explanation is what you are after so I shall provide one - a generosity”, and this makes the Slytherin’s chuckle. The Golden Trio stiffen, anger clear across their faces, “Snape, he knew that the traditional Potions curriculum did not challenge me. After all, he nurtured my love of potions from a very young age. He had me working on revising the potions textbooks each year and would assign additional essays to supplement the assigned homework. I have this, this tendency to get obsessed, I like the theory just as much as the brewing itself. I would give them to Sev to proof,” he can’t help the uncertain shrug.

He sees Pansy roll her eyes, “What he is saying is he’s a genius freak and that he came out the womb determined to prove centuries old theorem and ancient texts wrong”, which makes Blaise cackle, and Draco interject, ”Don’t talk about my mother’s womb its weird”, he frowns. Pansy smirks, “Sorry, I just forget with how Draco is ‘a once in a generation mind’ and also an insane prude!” which surprisingly gets a laugh from the entire room, Draco tugs at his sleeves anxiously.

Everyone is getting along, if somewhat tenuous, and it was odd.

Glancing around the room he sighs, “So why am I in this horribly decorated sitting room instead of my cell?,” he cocks his head as Weasley snorts, “Sorry, I did not realize you would prefer to still be in prison, Malfoy. I’m sure that we can still make that happen,” and Draco straightens his spine even more.

Theo waves his hand, “Don’t tempt Draco with a good time, he thinks he deserves Azkaban,” and Draco frowns, opening his mouth to say that Azkaban was not a death sentence but then closes it rapidly as he doubts thats a clarification anyone wants to hear. Pansy chuckles, which takes on a slightly manic twang, and Blaise wraps an arm around her shoulders.

The Gryffindors seem to communicate through a series of glares and glances before Potter sighs and drags his hand down his face, “Well, Malfoy is not going back to Azkaban. Snape’s journals have been authenticated, and they clear him. It’s very clear cut, Malfoy was a spy under Snape’s tutelage. Key information supplied by Malfoy was passed on to the Order of the Phoenix, Wizengamot is planning on releasing a statement.”

And Draco wonders briefly if the room is actually spinning. He can’t hear anything clearly and his chest feels unreasonably tight. He feels unmoored.

“Do you still have his journals?” and his friends move from the couch they were sitting on, to crowd around him. Not really crowding, Theo sits the closest, a hand on his knee, Blaise on Theo’s otherside his arm reaching around to rest on his shoulder, and Pansy presses her shoulder into his.

Granger stares at them, a hard sort of impenetrable look, and gives him the barest hint of a nod,”He left you a letter,”.

He wonders if his grief is as apparent as it feels. Sinking into his shoulders, in a mimic of memory he almost feels a hand rest on his head. A soft admonishment that Severus had always favored. Different entirely to brittle cold fingers scratching at his scalp.

He wonders if anyone has let each other down quite the same way he and Sev have. To the extent they have. Surrounded by people who have lived the same last five years as him he supposes its narcissistic to think that he and Sev are any different than most people.

Lying to protect each other and because they don’t trust each other. The drama and the tragedy and the never ending cycle of death and hope.

Draco Malfoy had spent many years losing, he was not surprised he lost Severus. He thought he would be used to the pain of it, but it breathed when he did, it would live in him as long as he did. A monster under his skin and monster mark on it. He thinks crudely that fate must love fucking with him.

He sits in his mother’s ancestral home, and wonders why he had bothered pretending he didn’t recognize it.

He wonders why he is pretending at all, the war is over, the evil gone and defeated. He doesn’t have to care anymore, his father is dead, his mother gone, all of the pretenses on how he should act and what he should care about are gone.

This was the life he and Sev had always talked about. In third year, about the choices he would make when he was older and not forced to live under the strict guidelines of how a Malfoy should act. About what happiness and his ideal future would look like. His friends and Severus and maybe a partner, potions and a home.

In fourth year, when he whispered that his father had disappeared at the Cup. How he feared him and for him. Because he thought they would not win and he did not want them to. The ‘they’ is unspecified but no less clear. About how in the future he hoped that he could outshine the darkness his father had wrapped their family in. That, he had whispered the quietest of all. The heart he had been desperately trying to drown had grown, and while he could lie and act at Hogwarts he knew he could not keep it forever.

In fifth year, they spoke about actually surviving. Less the future they wanted, and more about the immediate actions they needed to take. There was no discussion about spying or allegiances, they knew each other too well for that.

Sixth year, they did not talk at all, not really. Not when Draco felt like it was always at the tip of tongue, the anger and the betrayal. He really should have known better. Seventh year, they only spoke in code and about places and people and the tides of war. Severus was gone before they could ever talk openly again like they once had.

Freedom had come at a price that felt too high. This was the life, the future they had spoken about and Sev was not here. His mentor was gone, the war won and his secret allegiances revealed.

He had not realized that before now.

He doesn’t know when he start to hunch forward, face in his knees, when the tears had begun to fall from his eyes. He blinks and blinks and it does not make anything better, so he squeezes his eyes shut.

He is often loud and proud and obnoxious, he can admit that much. When he cries, a holdover from his childhood of being seen and not heard (a lesson he was never very receptive to), it is without any noise aside from the rapid sniffles. He breathes shallowly and does not move even when he feels his friends shift round him.

Theo’s voice coming soft and strong from where he kneels by his feet, Blaise’s large hand rubbing his back and he can hear Pansy asking on just the wrong side of polite if the Gryfinndor’s would leave the room. He does not acknowledge the sounds of footsteps or the shutting of the door.

Pansy sighs, she is standing slightly over Theo, and then Draco is across the room. Or not exactly, he had felt her presence over him, and then her hand moving to run through his hair. He was moving without thinking, and Pansy had made a sharp noise before yanking her hand back.

Draco’s back is pressing into a desk, and his friends are looking at him warily. He should apologize, he thinks he might have had a moment of accidental magic, shocking Pansy’s hand that was in his hair.

Nobody moves. He thinks unsurprisingly of the summer before 5th year, he thinks of his promises to them. Of how he had shut them all out, time and time again. How he always said it was to protect them, he is the only one from their year Marked, and no one younger than him would’ve had the connections to stand out in that sphere.

Admittedly, some from their year at Hogwarts and younger were staunch blood purists, and did believe in the Dark Lord’s cause, still none were directly involved. A trade-off, a way for Draco to protect his friends and whispered in Tom’s ear by Severus - that only Draco could be trusted with the power and prestige that came from being a Death Eater, only Draco could be depended on to not spill their secrets.

It had worked in their favor, Severus and Draco's, that the Dark Lord had taken that supplication - likely because he knew Draco could keep a secret. He never doubted his power over them. A mistake that allowed them to save lives and change the course of fate for many of his peers.

The duty to his friends and acquaintances had always seemed manageable, despite the heaviness of his heart and head knowing that he would not let any of them share this burden. Whether it was because of the political power of his family, the rumors of their hand in the darkness of the war, or because most of them had known him in some facet since they were children, people had a tendency to listen to him.

It’s Blaise who breaks the silence, “Ok, that's it,” he says sternly, “We have allowed you to operate on your volition for too long. We are talking about what you said during the trial. I will not allow you to make this another one of the things we do not mention,” he puts his hands on his hips seriously.

Draco blinks, because on one hand he loves his friends and on the other, he has been forced to work under far more intense circumstances than his friends being upset with him. This would not even be the first time his friends had tried to intervene, trying to get him to let them shoulder some of the weight.

When Theo scoffs, he can’t help but raise an eyebrow, and Theo glares at him. This makes him shrug, Theo was always the one who would baby him. Who would allow him to curl up into his side, and would read to him when he would refuse to speak. Theo would grip his hand tightly to ground him, and he had a tendency to step in between him and Pansy and Blaise when they would try to bully into explaining himself.

“I don’t know why you are bothering. Don’t you know that Draco only trusts himself?” Theo spits, and it's just as surprising to Pansy and Blaise as it is to him.

“I-,” and Draco clears his throat, glancing at Pansy, from her face to her hand which is blistered red and back again. He thinks about the sting in his heart that his friends think he doesn’t trust them. He thinks about how he never meant to hurt them. He decides to give in, and let them in, he is very tired and these are his friends.

Not too long before this, he thought he was going to be killed for his crimes, he thought he deserved it. The things he had done, had been forced to do and endure. He thought he deserved to die for it all. He had made peace with it. Now, the one conclusion he had been able to draw about his future was irrelevant.

Potter had come in and inevitably turned everything that Draco had thought on its head, not for the first time. He did not know what would happen next, he had no idea what he would do now that he got to live.

He stopped thinking about the future a few years ago.

He thinks that while he never meant to hurt them, perhaps closing himself off from them was not as victimless as he had thought. Severus had warned him that doing what they did was a lonely path, that more often than not people would never really trust him. That if everything worked out, and light prevailed his experiences would be so different from his friends that they wouldn’t understand. That he would lose them.

Now, looking at his friends, he thinks Severus might have been wrong about this. Because they do trust him, even now, they just think he doesn’t trust them. Maybe, it's because he has had them as friends for years, maybe it was because they depended on him all this time and they hadn’t ever quit before now. Maybe it was the same love that made him open his mouth and speak now.

“I, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sy” it's not what he meant to start with, Pansy just waves her hand in an easy gesture, and Draco breathes deeply. “He-,” his voice catches slightly, “He would runs his fingers through my hair sometimes,” and the air has been pulled out of the room again.

Pansy sniffles, “You said he rui-,” and Draco cuts her off, nodding, “Yes, if I had a family to be worried about tarnishing the reputation of it would probably be worse,” he states blandly. He tries to create some space between the memories that are dripping to the forefront of his mind.

Blaise shakes his head, “You do have a family. We are your family. We won’t let this happen to you ever again,” and indignation burns through him, “Don’t say that! Don’t make promises you can’t keep! It does-,“ and he can hear Pansy crying when Theo cuts him off.

“Yes, we can Draco! What happened to you, it will never happen again! We will not allow it!” and he looks furious, shaking slightly. He is clutching his wand tightly, and is staring into Draco eyes like he can see the future. And the fight that shot through him burns out just as fast.

He doesn’t know if he believes it. He hadn’t believed, not really, even when the Dark Lord had died in front him, that it was all really over. That he would never have to worry about Tom and his whispered spells and a blankness in his memories. Even when it was really over, his father dead by his own hand, he had considered that he would only see the Dark Lord in his nightmares now a fate inconsolable.

He wants to believe them, he doesn’t quite yet but he nods all the same. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to be in this house anymore.

Crossing the room he grips the letter Potter had left on the couch. He runs his fingers over Sev’s gliding script and searches inside himself for some of that bravery he had had earlier. However, since it was manufactured, he finds only a sharp curiosity in himself.

He breathes shakily before opening,

To my little dragon,

As I write this you are sitting across from me grading potions essays, it seems that being away from the Manor has done you some good. I can not ignore the dark circles under your eyes, or how wary your gaze has become. You have gotten rather good at hiding things from me.

I know that your task sits heavy on your shoulders, and your true allegiances are locked away deep in your heart. I worry that one day, you won’t be able to keep it hidden away.

Sometimes I look at you, and the little boy who used to sit on the counter and read me potions instructions is gone so completely I wonder if I imagined him. Other times, when I am overcome by the passage of time I am so proud of the man you have become, even when we do not see eye to eye, I am so glad I have gotten to see you grow.

If I am alive when you are reading this, I hope you shall tease me for being sentimental in my old age, and mock my retrospection. You are all the good parts of Lucius and Narcissa and none of the bad.

I imagine that you would likely disagree with the prior statement but there is something to be said about the resilience you have shown these last few months.

I never thought that I would do to you like Dumbledore did to me, recruit you for something you had no hope of understanding. We have discussed this at length, while I have been very resistant to having you spy I hope you can understand now that I have only been trying to protect you. I have no way of knowing where this war will take us, except for likely apart.

It is doubtless to me now, that I will not be able to protect you for much longer. If you can consider the small manipulations I have done to keep you as far away from this as possible, even now that you have been marked, the Dark Lord is increasing in power and his interest in you grows.

Presumably, we will have time to discuss everything in much more detail at a later time. If we do not, know that while it was unsaid, it was not unfelt.

Severus

Draco does not stop crying for a long time. Even after he sinks to his knees, he can not ignore the parts of him shattered and forgotten. He had not realized the wound that had grown sore knowing his parents would never understand his actions and would never be proud of the risks he took.

Draco does not get up for a long time. Love, not unfelt, overwhelming him. He does not stop crying. He stands, he straightens his back, but he can not stop shedding tears. This is the life they always talked about, and nothing about it feels real.

–

When they open the door, an old house elf pops in, “Master Potter says to meet them in the dining room, “ before popping back out of the hall. Pansy scoffs, and Blaise shakes his head bickering with Theo about the horrible manners of the elf. It almost feels like they are back in Hogwarts for a second. Draco feels slightly far from himself, not like he has completely left his body, but like his tether is not quite as strong.

Once they find the dining room, which Blaise complains the house elf didn’t even lead them to, they sit across from the Golden Trio.

Draco can’t pull his eyes from Potter, which isn’t really anything new, “Where’s my cousin?” and Potter frowns. Every room he seems to enter these days is full of silence. Potter glares, his face screwing up slightly, “I don’t know your cousin, Malfoy,” he spits out.

Draco can’t help but raise his eyebrow, because really saying his name like an insult isn’t really an insult. Which makes the tension Potter carries in his shoulders fade slightly, he shrugs, obviously the animosity is just for the sake of normalcy. Also, it doesn’t make sense even in a literal way seeing as, he does know Luna is his cousin, even if that’s not who they are talking about.

“My cousin, Sirius, who’s house we are in right now? I thought you might know him, seeing as he escaped Azkaban a few years ago.” he waves his hand irritatedly.

Granger cuts in, “Malfoy, Sirius is dead. He fell through the veil,” she says leadingly, like that is something he should remember.

He glances at his friends, who are all looking at him like he has lost it. He glances at Potter, who has gone rigid, a familiar anger on his face.

“Yes, I know. He fell, he died.” he nods, “but why hasn’t anyone brought him back, he was rather young if I can recall,” and he hears Theo sigh. Pansy is tapping her foot and Blaise facepalms.

It’s Weasley, who snorts, “Malfoy, Necromancy, is illegal. I know that probably means nothing to you but it is generally frowned up to bring someone back from the dead,” and he’s moved to squeeze Potter’s shoulder.

Draco frowns, “I’m not talking about necromancy, I’m talking about the Black family curse gift,” he states, raising his head to stare now at Potter. Who looks back at him with no absolutely no recognition of the term.

He sighs, “How are you in the Black ancestral house, if you do not know anything about the Blacks?” he asks rhetorically. Potter bites back, “Sorry, every father figure I’ve ever had has died before telling me key information, Malfoy, but are you saying there is a way to bring Sirius back?”

He feels Theo shaking with laughter next to him, he has always had a rather dry sense of humor, “Yes, every Black is born with two lifetimes of magic, more magic than they know what to do with. That’s why the rumors about the Black family are about them being descendants of dragons,” Granger looks like she already has at least ten questions, “Please, save all questions for the end.” which makes all three Gryffindors frown in unison.

“Anyways,” he waves his hands lazily, “enough magic that when they die, if they make it to adulthood that is - because uncontrollable magic has a tendency to burn you from the inside out especially when you are young, they have the power to come back,” he states simply.

He can feel his friends staring at him, and Pansy speaks first, “I call bullshit,” which is when the room devolves rapidly.

Granger is asking questions seemingly to no one, “How do you quantify enough magic for two lifetimes? What do dragons have to the strength of magic? Why does it matter if they make it to adulthood, also what is defined as Adulthood?” and Weasley is debating with Pansy about the possibility of the Black curse staying a secret this whole time, if they could come back to life.

Blaise is going toe to toe with Granger for asking questions to no one, “How come you never told us? If you could die and come back, why didn’t you fake your own death? This doesn’t even sound like a curse? I thought the Black family curse was madness?” and Theo just has his head in his hands.

Potter is just staring at him, and Draco can feel his cheeks pinkening, when suddenly the sharp sound of a baby crying fills the air.

A rumpled Remus Lupin walks in, “Harry, pup, I know you said not to come over however I think I left Teddy’s stuffed dog here and he refuses to sleep without it,” and only after handing the baby over to Harry does he realize the guests.

Pansy smiles charmingly, “Professor! It has been a long time!” and Draco can’t help the snort when he hears Blaise whisper “Slag,” in Pansy’s ear, which makes Potter glance over at him. The baby glances at Draco, before his hair lightens to a near perfect replica of his own. Potter chuckles, “Copying Cousin Draco, that's a very good job Teddy,” and Draco tilts his head, holding his hands out for the child in question.

Remus and Harry share a glance, before Draco is suddenly staring at one of his last living family members. “Oh, you must be from Cousin Sirius’s ilk, you have the same dimple on your cheek he does,” he whispers into gray blue eyes. He is surprised when he is corrected from over his shoulder, “Did. Sirius did have a dimple on his cheek,” and Lupin is staring at him morose.

Draco moves and settles Teddy against his hip, “ Right. About that, Lupin, what your take on the ethics of Dark Magic?” which makes the room erupt once more. He can hear Weasley above it all, “I thought you said it wasn’t necromancy, Malfoy?”

–

It takes two hours to convince everyone he is serious, no pun intended. It takes another hour for him to talk through the ritual, rather simple and crude, with Granger and Blaise. The first two, convince everyone that he’s isn’t making it up.

It requires him to speak with Walburga’s portrait, which makes everyone upset, but she does explain why she never brought back Regulus, which was simply because she did not think he was worth the energy, and did not trust him.

He also explains that the curse keeps them from telling anyone, which brings up another round of questioning. For years this secret was kept because the Black’s could not use their extended lifespans to intimidate their enemies, he was able to tell them because the family definition was now more nebulous and seeing as technically he was the last living Black, he could tell those who he deemed family.

He explains further, Walburga and Orion were dead, but Regulus, when he died, still considered Sirius family, Sirius while blasted off the family tree was not disinherited (likely because they thought they would not have too). So Sirius was still in the family, and those he considered family were family too. He glances at Lupin, asks if they were ever formally bonded or if the whole Werewolf thing trumped that. Lupin had blushed, which Draco personally thought was funny - Pansy personally thought it made him look very fetching - and stated that they were Pack.

He nods, “Right, so in your Pack, would be Potter, Granger and Weasley by association. Hence why I was able to explain the curse gift to everyone.” Theo nods like he gets it and Blaise teases him, “You love us, “ and Draco feels an uncontrollable blush rise to his cheeks.

“I hate each of you,” which of course makes his Slytherin’s preen. Pansy replies, “I like knowing you think that highly of us,” she says with a sniff.

The Gryffindors are staring at them puzzled and Lupin shakes his head. The following hour is presenting ancient books and diaries to Granger and Blaise while they try to figure out if this is even safe for Draco to perform.

Which honestly, doesn’t matter to him, this is not about bravery but rather a point of pride. His family is dead, they were good people, and he can bring them back. If he can do good now with no string attached, he dares someone to try and stop him. So he will do good, consequences be damned. He states this out loud, which makes his friends glare and Potter sighs, “Malfoy, I can’t believe I’m saying this but we are not about to watch you potentially kill yourself on a hunch,’’ rubbing the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up into his hair.

Weasley shakes his head, “Besides, if you die because of some stupid mistake, who is going to bring you back?” and then he gestures toward Teddy, who has fallen asleep against Draco’s shoulder.

Draco tightens his grip, “Ronald Weasley, Teddy is a baby! Even when he’s older, if I died trying to bring back his father, I hope you would never tell him about the ritual for his own sake,” and Lupin stares at Draco for a long second before conferring with Granger about a translation that she and Pansy are arguing over.

Weasley mutters about Purebloods, full names and mothers and Draco chooses to ignore him. Theo pats Weasley on the back understandingly, which he finds unnerving but also decides to ignore.

Potter stares at him and Draco meets his gaze, he isn’t sure what he’s searching for, what either of them are hoping to figure out. While they all might be too tired for the events of the past year to muster up the same level of animosity, they also cannot pretend that old wounds don’t still sting. He stares at Potter and sees the years behind them, he can’t quite picture what the future looks like, but the green of his eyes makes him think about the possibilities.

They have all had to grow up fast, but that doesn’t mean they can forget that this peace is tenuous at best and incredibly fragile.

He knows now why they were even at Grimmauld Place to begin with, Potter’s magic had been the only thing able to break through his shield spell, Granger’s quick healing and Weasley, an impentrable wall (fearsome with a wand in his hand) that kept back even the most experienced Aurors - each of the Gryffindor’s bleeding hearts - were all thanks to two instances of casual help during the war and Snape’s journals.

Since the journals had been authenticated, and Draco incapacitated, they had left the ministry amidst, an unforeseen riot. Prior, they had all already been petitioning Wizengamot for his release seeing as he had helped them escape Malfoy Manor. It angered Weasley to no end, how in his own words, ”They were ok with us nearly dying in a war they should have stopped and now they want to treat us like ickle little babies,” which made Blaise chuckle when they recounted this portion of the story. It had been Granger who thought to contact Pansy, which had brought his friends here too.

He didn’t know how they were able to move past all the pain between them, the years of bullying and pranks and prejudice. He thinks of the strained silence he had woken too, contemplates that idea that maybe they haven't gotten past anything at all.

He looks into Potter’s eyes and can’t help but feel like something is changing, or something has changed and he thinks Potter is probably just as confused as he is. Their gazes both swing away simultaneously, Teddy snuffles slightly, and Potter looks at his godson adoringly.

“You are good with him,” Potter says enviously. Draco glances around as all their friends seem to be too busy to witness their moment of goodwill.

Draco nods, “Well, he’s a baby, he doesn’t need much to feel comfortable, and he doesn’t really expect more than he needs being met, you understand?” he sees Potter reach to set a hand on Teddy’s back, bringing them closer to one another.

There is an air between them, full of things they won’t say, at least not right now. Right now, Teddy is asleep, and their friends are working together, and the war is over. The war is over, and a curse is also a gift and bringing someone back from the dead is Dark Magic but not evil, and family is not a mercurial thing.

—

They end up sleeping at Grimmauld, too tired to expand the house, the Slytherins go back to the sitting room that had been in originally, transfiguring the furniture into cushions and pillows and blankets. Maybe it's because of their closeness, or likely because of the eventfulness of the day but they sleep soundly and deeply even if only for a short while.

Even Blaise, notoriously not a morning person, rises early, and the Gryffindors seem to have a similar idea when they all turn up in the kitchen shortly after one another. They eat and they plan. Well Draco explains what he knows and the others try to plan.

In the end the ritual is rather simple, a few symbols in white paint - perfected by Pansy - a short speech in gaelic - he coached rather thoroughly by Weasley and Blaise - and a drop of blood he knows that he will need to provide.

He is given an exhaustive breakdown of what to expect from the magic he is calling upon from Theo and Granger based on the first hand accounts of many dead relatives and their own conjectures based on the wording of the spell.

Lupin refuses to take Teddy home, stating that if he needs medical attention it's best that he remain nearby, but does ward one of the upper bedrooms to the best of his ability. All of his friends and the Gryffindors crowd together in the room, and Draco refuses to take any chances. He tries several different curses with different intensities just to double check Lupin and Granger’s work, it seems steady, but he worries.

He is confident in his abilities, he knows that he can bring back Sirius, he feels in core, but he doesn’t want to chance having someone else around in case the whole thing backfires. He gives his Slytherin’s a nod and they respond in turn. He is not particularly shocked when he glances at Potter just to find that his eyes are already on him.

Potter glances at his friends too, before rushing out the door and then warding the door to the gods. He can hear spells glancing against the warding, likely Granger, and then Lupin’s voice comes from a big dog Patronus, “Boys, be careful. Harry, next time,” he cuts himself off sighing loudly, which makes Potter flinch, “just both of you be careful,” before the dog bounces off.

They turn to each other before heading back down to the sitting room they had chosen, Draco speaks seriously, “You were supposed to stay in the room with everyone else, Potter,” he tucks his hair behind his ears, whispering a soft sticking spell.

Potter nods, “Yeah, that was your plan. My plan was to be here. I didn’t really want to give anyone any time to argue,” which Draco considers pretty fair.

“And, as confident as I am in your abilities, I would say that I’m pretty familiar with Dark magic. Magically speaking, I think we are on a similar level,” the easy confidence makes Draco preen slightly. The idea that they are both of a similar power makes him snort, “Right, you just killed the Dark Lord and came back from the dead. I don’t think we are that similar,” he states moving to the center of the room.

“A prophecy put me and Riddle in a league separate from everyone else. As powerful as he became, I was always going to be strong enough to defeat him, and as far as coming back from the dead - I thought the whole point of this was that was what your family does?” Potter jokes.

Draco glances at Potter fighting the smirk that begins, he frowns instead. Nodding to Potter, who grips his own wand tightly - that had been somewhat of a sticking point for everyone else, that Draco would be alone and at the mercy old dark magic, there was no plan or way for him signal if something had gone wrong - prepared to step in if something went awry.

He thinks of Severus, of his father, his mother and friends upstairs. Family. Severus, dead because the Dark Lord finally saw him for the threat he always was. Lucius, his father, dead at his own hand. Draco’s own part in ending the war, had been ending Lucius’s trail of terror, right outside on the lawn of Hogwarts. His mother, unable to look him in the eyes, vanished, the consequences of her own actions never seeming to touch her.

Blaise with his theatrics and lucky countenance. He was always pushing Draco, always reminding him of another perspective even when Draco refused to acknowledge it. Pansy, who called herself his sister and goaded Draco into silliness. Theo, a mirror to Draco, sharp where he was soft and quiet in his brilliance. Family.

He thinks of Teddy upstairs, his cousin, and second chances he doesn’t think he deserves. He glances at Potter last. He rolls the signet ring belonging to Sirius and he begins to chant.

He can feel it the moment the magic begins, the way the house almost sighs and everything grows a tad bit warmer, a tug at the core of him.

Most magic is innate, it doesn’t require much, but bringing something back - well it requires a bit more. He cuts his hand with his wand, confident as the chant seems to echo, no, he hears other voices. His family, incredibly old, and powerful, repeating back to him the words that countless others have spoken before him.

A wind blows through the room, and he watches as his blood drops onto the middle symbol, sees it glow bright like a star, and then just as quickly everything quiets and he is thrown backwards by some force.

Another spell whizzes by him, and he blinks blearily, his head feels like it's been cracked open. He sees his cousin, wand in hand, and then when he blinks again Potter is standing in front of him. He grips the back of Potter’s drabby sweater as he pulls himself up, Sirius is glaring at both of them, and Potter is glaring right back.

He can’t really form a coherent thought yet, but he knows something is amiss given that Potter had said Sirius was like a father figure to him and right now he is treating him like he wants to commit patricide. Which, Draco understands intimately, but he knows was not something synonymous with their relationship before.

Potter waves away his shield spell, “Are you kidding me, Sirius? Draco just brought you back to life, and you try to attack him?” and Draco’s heart skips slightly at the use of his first name. He tells himself to deal with that later despite the part of him that is screaming loudly.

Draco waves a hand, “No harm, no foul Potter. However, actually, there was harm, I mean, my head - Merlin, my hand, no my head feels like cracked open, maybe we should call down Professor Lupin?”

He sees Potter wave his wand, and assumes his undoing the wards keeping their friends and family in the bedroom. Not ten seconds later, Lupin comes barreling down the stairs, wand at the ready. He stops dead at the sight of Sirius.

They both just stare at each other for a long moment, and Draco wants to be polite even if he’s confused about their entire relationship. Potter suffers from ill manners and clears his throat loudly, “Draco hit his head on the wall, when Sirius tried to disarm him upon his return,” and then Lupin is right in front of him muttering several different healing spells.

Lupin grins not even five minutes later, and Draco decides to forgo any more niceties curling up on the couch as his friends return most of the shrunken furniture back to its regular size. “Lupin, thank you, bring me Teddy and you and Sirius can speak upstairs,” he does not ask and is not nonplussed when Weasley remarks on his rudeness. Potter, however, does shock him by sitting right beside and still keeping some distance between him and his godfather.

Potter leans close and sets an uniquely wrapped chocolate square on his knee. He gazes at Draco, “Are you sure you are ok?” and Draco wonders if the room has been spontaneously set ablaze as his cheeks warm. He nods, and raises an eyebrow, “Are you ok? I expected you to hug him, or something equally Hufflepuff,” he says gesturing to where his cousin has decided to lean against the wall.

He appears lively, and now that he isn’t trying to point a wand at him, he can see a revenant of who the man had once been. An heir to the Most Noble house, powerful and beautiful and dangerous while he gazes around the room it's also clear the danger he poses now is different. He stares at all of them warily, even Harry, and while the reaction made sense towards him and his Slytherins, the way he did not even greet Harry or Weasley and Granger was worrying.

Potter shakes his head, “He has always been a bit impulsive, I just - we are just becoming friends and he immediately tried to attack you,” Draco bites his lip ignoring the way his friends had all but frozen, clearly listening to his conversation.

He is warmed by the notion that they were friends, or something close to it, his obsession with Potter was not always rational. He frowns slightly, “He just came back to life, and he saw someone who looks like Lucius Malfoy standing over him, can you blame him for attacking first?And we don’t really know what the process was like for him” he says not meeting Potter’s eyes.

He diligently unwraps the chocolate, and Potter sighs, “No, I guess not, but afterwards he was not apologetic after realizing who you weren’t and right now he is acting well like that ,” which is true. Draco ponders this, trying now to catch the eye of his recently dead cousin, except now he appears to be buffing his nails with his wand.

Lupin arrives back downstairs, depositing Teddy into Sirius’s arms without much fanfare. The room's previous conversations die down, and all that can be heard are the soft sniffles Sirius makes as he hugs Teddy for the first time.

Whatever spell Lupin is using makes the words sound like gibberish, which Granger notes she will have to ask him about, and suddenly he notices how they have all come closer to the couch Potter and he are sitting on. The furniture they had all been using shrunk back down, with Granger sitting on the arm of the couch beside Potter and Weasley standing just behind them leaning on the back of the couch.

His own friends have brought their little couch closer too, and they all watch a much earned family reunion. After a short while, Lupin turns and gestures for Potter to come over. He stands silently, after squeezing his knee and nearly giving Draco a heart attack, and finally greets his godfather properly.

Properly, involves lots of hugging and laughing and more tears. It is, in fact, very touching.
Draco munchs on the chocolate and asks Granger, “What is the likelihood that you guys will let me bring back Regulus today, too?” because for all his faults he is not blind to who actually calls the shots here.

Even with two more adult wizards, disregarding the fact that they are all of age now, he knows if he can get Granger on his side, convincing the others will be easy. Pansy flicks his ear, and Blaise snaps his fingers, speaking to the house elf softly while Theo and Granger discuss the logistics.

“He does not appear tired, and besides the fact that Sirius did attack him, there did not appear to be any side effects,” which Theo contradicts, “It has not even been long enough to know if there are side effects. Potter seems fine right now too, but I don’t think we should take any chances, for all we know something could manifest in a few hours.”

Granger shrugs, “We can wait and be on the safe side,” which is of course when Potter and the rest join the conversation. “What are we waiting for?” Potter asks once again, keeping Draco pinned in his spot, his eyes intense.

Draco winces slightly, “I was hoping that we could try to bring back Regulus today,” and he sees Potter’s eyes dart to his friends. Whatever he tries to get across works because then Granger claps, “I think we should eat before we make any decisions,” which Weasley agrees with eagerly.

Sirius interjects, “Why are we bringing back Regulus?” to which Lupin says they will explain over lunch.

—

The discovery that Teddy is not Sirius’s child is a relatively quick one, especially once Draco realized that his Cousin and the werewolf were not actually together.

It was still supremely confusing, as Draco had yet to ascertain who Teddy’s parents were. For a horrible second Draco pondered the possibility that Lupin was the boy’s biological father with some other witch but he quickly threw out that idea.

He can’t imagine that Sirius, who per what little his mother would say about her cousin was jealous, was hardly the type to sit and pine for someone for years on years. However taking into consideration he had spent a majority of his adulthood in prison perhaps there had never been any time.

After all he escapes prison and only two years, give or take later the war had begun again. For Sirius he thinks it must be like the war never really ended.

Draco takes in his cousin thoroughly, his hair long and curly like Bellatrix, his face a soft shadow of his mother. He sits now on the floor Teddy in his lap, his hair twisted up and away from his face held in place by his wand. The frown and tears have been erased from his face, a sunny disposition making his familiar aristocratic beauty all the more comforting.
He hasn’t asked too many questions, the little the information provided by Lupin and the Gryffindors seeming to sate his curiosity.

He knows the war is over, the Dark Lord dead - once again Draco imagines he can not mean much to a man who has heard it all before - and that Dumbledore has died. Tonk’s ( Sirius’s niece and Draco’s cousin) is alive, an update that made Sirius clutch at Teddy tighter. He seems to accept on face value that Draco and Severus were spies for the Order without much convincing, which is to Draco at least alarming.

When he throws concerned looks from his cousin to his friends, they respond with shrugs. As they had not known Sirius prior to his death it’s impossible to tell how different he’s acting. He catches Granger's eye, furrowing his brows and she nods before glancing to Potter and Weasley. A room full of people all trying to communicate without saying a word, Remus who has not lost the soft grin he has been wearing seems oblivious.

Draco is surprised when his cousin speaks softly in French, “what’s the likelihood that anyone else speaks French?” And Draco doesn’t hesitate before answering none. His friends all speak other languages - Italian, Korean, and German. As far he can tell Lupin, who has stiffened rigidly, does not speak French either.

Sirius nods laughing slightly down at Teddy, “Come and sit with us, Cousin” he continues in French, it is very clearly not a request. Draco drops lightly down beside him trying to ignore his friends who are showing various shades of shock. “Regulus was only a little older than you when he was marked, shortly before he died we met for the last time.” Draco nods, “It was not my choice to be marked, my father had needed to be punished for doing the unthinkable, disappointing the Dark Lord”, he says pulling his hair over his shoulder. Sirius hands tremble faintly, “Parents' mistakes always have a way of falling on their children. I had been hearing rumors, horrible stories of what being a Death Eater was like. Reggie was still my baby brother, I still cared, I tried reaching out. He had scoffed at me.”

He thinks about how even marked Sirius was still trying to save Regulus. He wonders if Regulus regretted it as much as he did. Draco shakes his head slightly, “Once you are marked-,” he cuts himself off. And Sirius jerks his head up, “I would’ve fought Voldemort myself if I thought he wanted me to. He was my brother but he was my -,” and Sirius dips his head to Teddy. Sirius is a bit of a mystery. A Gryffindor in all the obvious ways, attacking without thinking, quick with jokes and his laughter. But just a bit underneath, a man who wants to keep this conversation private, even in a room full of friends and proxy family. He wonders if Sirius is doing it for himself or for Draco.

Draco clenches his fists and tries not to think about the way the Dark Lord has infected each part of his life. He can’t even sit here with his recently resurrected cousin without being puzzled by his motivations, he thinks that for all his effort to find something to keep him for processing the last 48 hours he has failed.

There is a hand on his drawing him back, Sirius uncurls his hand gently, “Regulus, at least then, did not want my help. He scoffed at it. Maybe that’s my fault for making him think he couldn’t trust me. But, when I pressed him - he, he didn’t deny it. He told me not to worry because the Dark Lord,” he says the title ironically, “had a thing for blondes.” And Draco snorts.

He hopes Regulus is as funny as he imagines. He can only hope that whatever stories Sirius must have heard, that made him worried for Draco rather than weary of him, were tall tales. Draco considers what would be the best response, he thinks about what he has already had to give up, the giant in the room as it were. He blinks quick and decides even if it doesn’t endear hsi cousin to him, he doesn’t have the emotional range to face what was done to him.

He is rapidly aware of the silence of the room now, in English he responds, “Not to worry everyone we did not accidentally bring back a demon - or if the stories are to be believed no more so a demon” and unfortunately his joke does not land.

Sirius makes a shocked noise, “That was something you guys were worried about?” His eyebrows raised. Lupin is quick to retort, “You have only done one mildly impulsive thing since you have been back. We were worried you had been possessed by an ancient demon that was well mannered. You can not blame us for being a little suspicious,” and it appears even Lupin was not so oblivious as to not notice something was wrong.

“I’m sorry, attacking Draco and I was only mildly impulsive?” Potter mutters and this causes the Slytherins to pipe up in agreement. Draco shakes his head, “Please my father has done more damage on accident,” which once again does not land like he had hoped. Sirius pops his hand up for a high five which Draco meets gleefully, and he sees Lupin put his fingers on his temples like he was trying to rub away a headache. His quiet murmuring, “oh Merlin there are two of them” makes both Draco and Sirius glare in near unison.

Weasley, who has his wand clenched in his hand, “Hey Malfoy, just double checking you already killed your dad right?” Which makes Granger hit his shoulder and Potter chuckle. Draco nods once and Sirius comments, “Nice - I always dreamed about killing my dad,” he says covering Teddy’s ears.

Draco can’t help his laugh, “Smart covering his ears, wouldn’t want to give him ideas of patricide so young” which makes Sirius snatch his hands back and hiss in French, “I’m not his father,”. He cocks his head to the side, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assu-,” and Sirius cuts him off, “You are right you shouldn’t have.” Draco stares at him hurt, probably more than he should be and he can feel the weight of Potter’s eyes on him.

He glances up at him, and when Potter opens his mouth he shakes his head. Potter frowns at him. It’s Pansy who idly asks for the time. Potter casts a quick tempus and suggests they reconvene in a few hours for dinner, “After that, we will prepare to bring back Regulus,” he says, clapping his hands together.

Draco rises trying to ignore tension now between Sirius and him. Granger and Weasley are gripping Potter tightly now before nodding to the room saying they will bring back dinner. He imagines after being in each other's pockets for months even now several months after the war it must still feel wrong to separate.

His friends are standing, and Draco straightens his back, “Go check on Goyle, and the Greengrass girls. Keep me up to date on the state of our affairs. Also, let Warrington know that I plan to continue with my business proposition with or without his help,”.

Theo nods before asking, “What of the previous arrangement with Astoria?” Draco shakes his, “It’s null and void. As both our parents are dead. I’m sure she will be relieved,” which makes Pansy snort. Pansy waves her hand breezily, “I shall save the Villa in France for you and distribute port keys as you requested.”

As Draco turns to Blaise, he sees his friend fighting his grin. He sighs, “I’m guessing you see no problems with cutting Warrington out?” And Blaise shakes his head, “I have always said we didn’t need him to begin with. We certainly don’t need him now,” and at Theo scoffs, “oh please, you just refuse to fuck him when you are business partners because of parental trauma.”

And Blaise glares at him before turning to Draco raising an eyebrow, and Draco’s eyes dart to Pansy who is grinning. He groans, “I think you two should just get it over with and leave the rest of us out of it,” which makes Theo and Pansy cheer. Blaise flicks Theo in the forehead before turning back to Draco, “I hardly think you of all people have any room to comment on unresolved sexual tension” he says glancing over Draco’s shoulder.

He can not fight the pinkening of cheeks and hiss at Blaise who just laughs. “Go you have all been given your tasks,” he says, making a shooing motion with his hands, “I’ll contact you all later tonight,” and with that his friends venture out into London.

He turns once he hears Lupin clear his throat, he’s holding Teddy in a soft cradle, and his cousin has disappeared. Potter is sitting on the couch, eyes far away. “I did not realize you were all so organized?” Lupin says his voice lilting up in a question.

Draco nods, tearing his eyes away from Potter, “It is important to keep one's affairs in order,” he responds blankly. Lupin’s eyes narrow, “And what affairs are your friends keeping in order for you?” there is no shock at the pointed suspicion. He is almost glad, the fire in Lupin’s eyes is not unwarranted and he assumes part of it stems from the conversation he had in French and the vague marching orders to his friends.
He shrugs, “Goyle, he has not forgiven me by betrayal. He blames me for Crabbe’s death. Astoria and I were intended. Neither of us were particularly happy about that, as you can imagine. As I am not imprisoned nor am I dead, I have to meet up with a few acquaintances hence the portkeys,” he finishes, tucking his hair over one shoulder again.

Lupin does not let up, and even though he is holding a baby, he still is unbelievably fierce, if Draco had not spent months at the beck and call of the most powerful man in Britain he might actually have been intimidated, “What business did you have with Warrington? If I remember correctly he was not in your year, I believe he was at least three years your senior,” and Draco snorts.

He has spent too much time being the youngest in every room his walked in the past two years to give age too much thought, “Warrington was going to be the face of an apothecary. He had been hesitant before I was arrested to agree, first because he did not want to work with anyone else and my fate was unknown. Once I was arrested he communicated to Blaise that he would likely not be working with any fellow Slytherins for fear of persecution from the Ministry. Now, while I am free, I do not take kindly to those who do not look after their friends, I have decided it’s best we cut ties,” he says with a sigh.

Teddy lets out a little cry, and the suspicion Lupin had been wearing falls from his face immediately. He nods briskly before taking the stairs two at a time and heading for the room he guesses he has been sleeping in. Potter has not moved from his spot on the couch. Draco feels an old ache rise in him, pushing Potter's shoulder gently, “Hey, is there somewhere I can smoke?” and Potter blinks once, twice before rising with a groan - making Draco blush - and nodding.

—

The first decision is that it is entirely too cold to go outside, finding a room with a window that can open does appear to be a significant challenge. Potter pushes the door open to a room on the second floor, “This was Sirius’s old room, if any window is going to open, it’s got to be his.” and the room is not decorated. It’s bare of anything really besides the bed and the desk.

He wonders if they cleaned it after he ran away, or after they blasted him off the family tree, or if worse he never decorated it himself. Potter fights with the window for a few seconds before cursing underneath his breath. He shakes his head before heading across the hall, Regulus’s room.

Potter throws the door open with a certainty that no one would be inside, which is clearly wrong when in that same instance Sirius stands up wand in hand. For the second time today, Draco is facing down his cousin but this time he can see the faint tear tracks on his face and the sheen to his eyes. Potter is rushing toward him as Sirius lowers his wand.

They sit on either side of him, Potter holding his hand and Draco holds in a sigh before rubbing his back. He doesn’t know what he really expected when he brought Sirius back from the dead, maybe more happy tears. He can feel the tremble of Sirius’s frame and he knows these are not happy tears. He meets Potter’s gaze over Sirius bent form - they cry like one another, face pressed into knees and no sound like a portrait spelled quiet - and makes a face in response to Potter’s panicked one.

He hopes his expression communicates his exasperating and also the fact that he has no fucking idea why Sirius is crying. The flash of irritation that crosses Potter’s face is familiar and he is glad that he got his point across.

Draco takes a moment to take in the room, despite the years there is no dust, the bed sheets are still rumpled and there is an organization to the chaos found in most young adult boys rooms. It looks like no time has passed just in this room, since Regulus had last been in here. He has books dogeared and stacked haphazardly, a few muggle titles Draco can recognize vaguely, cloaks draped over the chair and letters still unopened sit on the corner of the desk.

He had several clippings that should’ve been browned by time, next to his family crest, regarding the Dark Lord. History has a strange way of repeating and repeating and repeating. Draco looks at the room and wonders if he had never known any better, would his friends be sitting in his room mourning who he could have been too.

He doesn’t know what Sirius sees when he looks at this room not beholden by time, but he thinks about the bravery Regulus had before he died, he wonders if he thought he would have been brought back. He considers the note that Regulus had left for the Dark Lord, and thinks he must have known that despite centuries of the Black family being brought back, he would not be afforded the same respect.

As brave as Draco tries to be, he thinks maybe Regulus was braver. It’s not a fair comparison, but while he had never been particularly persuaded by the Death Eater movement he imagines that if he had he never would have grown a spine enough to stand up to him at all. Severus had been instrumental in Draco’s trajectory as a spy, if he had truly been on his own he doesn’t know that he would have made that choice.

Even if he tried to discard everything Tom had done, if he had been like Regulus dark haired and the first of his family to join, he can’t imagine seeing the Dark Lord and choosing to die rather than serve him.

So many things had led to him defying the Dark Lord. Those things had made him want to die, to think that once the war was over death would be a gift. All those years sitting in the Potions lab with Sev treating youth like a curse and now the living is the malision. A gift and curse, half a tragedy, to be able to bring someone back to life. To have to mourn and rejoice and continue on.

He hadn’t realized he was crying too, until Potter makes a tangled noise, jarring Draco from his thoughts. He wipes his eyes quickly and nudges Sirius who has not stopped crying. He does not acknowledge either of them, so Draco shrugs, “Is it ok if I smoke in here?” and the question lingers in the air. He can see Potter shaking his head at him, when Sirius finally lifts his head, “Only if you share,” he rasps.

Potter claps Sirius's shoulder and Draco pulls a cigarette case out of a silver case. Sirius scoffs when he sees it, “Merlin, you are so prissy,” and Draco glares at him while Potter tries to stifle his laughter.

As the smoke rises through the air, he allows himself to focus only on the burn in his lungs and slight tingle in his nose. The hypotheticals he had been pondering can wait for another time, right now, he just tries not to laugh when Sirius breathes too deeply and makes himself cough.

—

The sun has set, making the shadows of the room grow, and Sirius and Draco have smoked the entirety of the cigarettes Draco has, even his backup second stash which was still in its original packaging. Potter remained steadfast in his decline of joining them, content to just sit.

Sirius does not speak much, Potter and Draco keep trying to draw him into conversation, but he seems content in his silence. Potter pokes Draco roughly in the cheek, reaching around Sirius, “Hey, I asked if you were joking about you and Greengrass being, like engaged or whatever?” and he wrinkled his nose like he couldn't imagine it.

Draco scoffs, “It’s called an arranged marriage, Potter, and I think we are both glad it’s not going to happen,” he says as he curls up slightly. He had toed off his shoes a while ago, and pulled his legs underneath him so he is sitting more firmly on the bed. Sirius has taken to leaning into Potter, swinging his legs back and forth slightly. He allowed himself to be jostled as Draco and Potter move. Potter is leaning against the bedpost, one leg resting perpendicular to the other which remains on the ground.

“Why, I mean, I’ll admit I always thought you and Pansy had something going on, but is it because of the trial?,” and Draco contemplates strangling him right there. Sirius stiffens, “What trial? I thought you said Draco had been a spy, why was he on trial?” and like a coward he decides to ignore the question.

Waving his hand lazily, “No, Pansy and I are like brother and sister. Also, Greengrass is happy because it is a very public secret that I’m actually very gay,” which makes Potter snort and unfortunately does not ease the tenses in Sirius’s posture.

Sirius turns toward him completely, “What trial? What are you not telling me?,” and Draco folds, he folds so fast he surprises himself.

“I was on trial because it was not a known fact that I was a spy. I was in the Dark Lord’s inner circle,” he chokes slightly, “At my trial they gave me Veritaserum, and I revealed personal information. That. I didn’t-, “ he stammers.

Potter stands setting a hand on Draco’s shoulder, “They dosed him against his will. He had to nearly crack his head open to stop talking, Hermione Ron and I were able to get him back to Grimmauld Place - we had already protested his trial since he was a minor and we knew of events where he had helped the Light side. But then, Snape’s journals were recovered and they proved his innocence,” Draco almost wants to shake off his hand at the use of that word.

He decides against it because Potter’s hand is warm and the room is drafty now that the moon is the only thing peeking between the clouds. For no other reason of course, he lies to himself.

Sirius stands abruptly, “Merlin, this whole thing is fucked! You both are children, you shouldn’t have to- people shouldn’t be trying to blame you for- taking advantage of children is-,” and he doesn’t complete a single sentence his anger making his hands shake.

Draco tries to think of what to say. He can’t think of anything that would make Sirius feel better. Potter too seems dumbfounded, like he hadn’t anticipated this reaction. He squeezes Draco's shoulder, and Draco is glad that both of them hadn’t known how to tell Sirius what he had revealed to those smart enough to connect the dots.

Suddenly Sirius tugs him and both he and Potter are being gripped in a tight hug. Potter is laughing softly and Draco feels his cheeks get red from the press of his body against his. He thinks he brought Sirius back into this world, he is not above taking him out again. Sirius whispers in his ear, “I know you are contemplating homicide but maybe think again and then thank me,” which makes Draco reach up and smack the back of his head.

He snorts when Sirius tries to dodge, but instead nearly runs into the door frame, the only reason he doesn’t is because Lupin had just tugged the door open. He stands backlit with his hands on his hips, “Really guys?” he huffs before waving his wand the faint smell of smoke disappears from the room.

Draco can’t help the giggle that leaves him, which then sets off Sirius as well, both of them cackling wildly. Sirius drapes an arm around his shoulder and Draco does not shrug him off, “No worries, Professor, Cousin Sirius and I were merely talking through his prospects!” and he watches as Lupin's face rearranges from fond into something resembling contemplative.

“You don't have to call me Professor any more Malfoy,” he says with an awkward smile before turning to Sirius, “And prospects! I didn’t realize there were multiple prospects! I didn’t know you were looking for er-,” and Draco can’t help snorting when Sirius tries to pinch him. Potter laughs watching them try to pinch each other while still being caught in a half hug.
“You don’t have to call any of us by our last names now, you can call Remus, Remus.” he says pushing past them into the hallway, he calls over his shoulder, “You can call me Harry, too,“ he says casually.

Lupin has already turned and followed Harry down the hall when Sirius snickers at him, “You call me Harry,” he says mockingly pinching Draco’s red cheeks.

Pushing him softly, Draco can’t fight his grin, “Please, I thought Lu-Remus was going to offer to be put on your list of ‘prospects’ right then and there,” and Sirius just shoves him lightly.

Shoving each other out in the hall too, Sirius laughs, “I can’t wait to have Regulus back too! I think you two would probably either hate each other or get on like a house on fire,” he states.

—

Sirius was determined to be the one to bring Regulus back, Draco had countered that he had never done the ritual before - which made Granger roll her eyes at him, her and Weasley had returned with mince pies and homemade treacle tart.

Weasley, on the same wavelength, interjected, “You had never done the ritual before today either,” and Potter frowns. Draco waves his hand lazily, “Yes, I know that, however now we know it works and that I can do it. Why add a new variable to an already vastly unstable experiment?”.

Sirius glares at him, Draco fights the urge to stick out his tongue or make a face in response. Lupin stares at both of them before announcing that their entire family was too stubborn.

Draco sighs, he blinks at Sirius slowly, who cocks his head and then sighs. Draco nods, “Ok, we will do it together, and unlike last time it will be just us in the room,”. Immediately Potter tries to refuse, and Granger tries to counter. “I was there last time, why can’t I be here again?” and “If everything went well last time we should all just stay here,” which is when Weasley with surprising amounts of tact just stares at both of them.

Jokingly to Sirius, “Sorry, you’ll have to forgive them, it’s past their bedtime,” which makes Granger let out a frustrated noise and Potter wacks his arm. It seems to however make both Gryffindor’s quiet down.

Draco raises an eyebrow and Sirius nods, “Ok, let's get started, after all what’s the worst that could happen,” and the noise that follows makes Draco recoil slightly, everyone yelling at Sirius for jinxing them.

—

Draco sits on the ground holding his bleeding nose gently, as the Black brothers hug. His head throbs slightly and already his face feels sore but he refuses to make any noise at all. The quiet murmuring between the brothers is warming him, the way Sirius held Regulus to his chest, and the way that neither had stopped crying.

He can’t help the squeak that leaves him when Sirius drags him closer, introducing them to one another. He stares at Regulus, who is so young, he features still soft where Draco’s have pointed. Their eyes the same shade of a silver storm, and he opens his mouth to speak before remembering his nose is fucked. He sees Regulus frown, and glance back to Sirius before sighing and whispering a healing spell.

Wandless magic not even an hour after being resurrected, “Sorry, you looked like Lucius, your father I mean,” and Draco grins despite the blood drying to his face. He grips Regulus' left arm over the mark, ”He is dead,” he says.

He is proud that there is no tremble or doubt in his voice, no evidence of the relief he feels, and Regulus slumps forward, “Thank fucking Merlin,” he says.

Sirius laughs which sets them both off, curled around each other on the floor, Draco feels a closeness he can’t explain to both of them. He’s really only known them from stories and pictures before now but something is so familiar is how they move and speak despite how clearly different from each other they are.

He does not hesitate when Regulus grips his own marked arm, to raise his sleeve and show him how it's begun to fade. Regulus grips his hand and his gaze is heavy on his face. Suddenly, he remembers what Sirius had said Regulus had told him, ’He prefers Blondes’, and he doesn’t fight the tight hug when it comes.

The shocked noise Sirius makes is drowned out by the pounding footsteps from the hall, and suddenly he is reminded of how fearsome their family can be when both Black brothers push him behind them wands raised on instinct.

The Golden Trio has their own wands raised and the tensions in the room have skyrocketed, “What the fuck did you guys to Malfoy?” Weasley shouts, and then unceremoniously Potter stalks forward and Lupin tries to speak but Draco cuts him off, “Ok, everyone calm down!”.

He pushes past his cousins and meets Potter in the center of the room, “Draco, what happened?” he says holding Draco’s chin taking in the blood but not seeing any other obvious injuries. Draco stares into Potter’s eyes and thinks briefly that maybe he has a concussion and that's why the room is spinning, “Regulus healed me, it was an accident,” he says slowly.

For a minute it seems like Potter might let it go, “What happened?” he repeats, not letting it go. Which given everything Draco knows about makes sense. He grabs Potter’s wrist gently, “I’m serious it was an accident, Regulus just elbowed me in the face trying to get away from Sirius,” and he thinks he might as well embarrass himself further, “Harry, I promise I’m ok,”.

This makes Po-Harry nod. He glances behind Draco and then drops his face like he was burned, he clears his throat loudly, “All good guys, everythings fine,” which makes his friends stand down.

Lupin just stares at the both of them wide eyed, before shaking his head and waving to Regulus casually who only responds with a tip of his head. Sirius elbows and thus they begin to frantically whisper to each other in French.

He can not quite make out what they are saying when Granger beckons him closer, before Weasley grips his wrist and drags him - Harry following - closer to the doorway. Granger doesn’t ask before double checking the healing Regulus had done and Weasley casts a cleaning spell to remove the dried blood from his face. He murmurs his thanks and Weasley claps him hard on the arm.

Regulus appears at Draco’s elbow, before whispering in French, “Did she just check my healing?” which makes Draco snort and roll his eyes before responding in kind, “Obviously, they don’t know you yet.” to which Regulus nods.

Sirius scooches in between them, draping an arm on both their shoulders grinning, it's the happiest he has looked. Regulus, ever the serious face in a picture, portrays his fondness with a reserved smile. He reminds Draco just faintly of Sev, who’s primary expression was one of idle blankness. There is a shine in his eye that is reassuring in a different way.

As they move down the hall to the kitchen, the Gryffindors arguing about the merits of a late night meal, Remus calls out to them from near the fireplace, “Sorry, I have to get back to Teddy,” he says uncertainly.

His eyes drag over all of them before darting back to Sirius and then Harry and back to Sirius. He clearly does not want to leave. Draco turns toward the group, “I think we should all leave this horrible house and go stay at my villa in France,” which makes Lupin frown, “I can tell you the address and then once you get Teddy you can through the Floo. There is plenty of space,” he says, searching Lupin’s face for an answer.

Sirius chuckles, “Good on you Cousin, taking care of the family!” which makes Regulus scoff and Draco feels a blush rising. He glances behind them to the Gryffindors, “You all should come too. Getting out of England for a while might do you all some good,” and once again the trio communicates through a series of glances.

However he isn’t so distracted not to hear Regulus whisper in French, “Right, that's why you want them to come,” and Draco never had any sibling growing beyond Pansy, but he can hold his own, “I will snap you like a twig, you little ponce,” he whispers back vehemently. Regulus stares at him before snorting and turning away. Satisfied that he has won that encounter, he glances at Granger, who nods and asserts that they don’t need to pack anything they are already ready to go. He turns to Sirius who is staring at Lupin, the old professor appears torn.

Draco wishes he would get it together, either let Sirius in or let him go. He really shouldn’t judge when his romantic experience is negligible but his heart aches for Sirius. Finally Sirius looks away, purses his lips and stares somewhat blankly at the wall. A glance at Regulus has both of them moving to stand shoulder to shoulder in front of Sirius. Thankfully they are all around the same height, and Remus appears agitated for a moment before sighing.

“I’ll see. Send me an owl with the address, Harry knows where to send it too,” he says jerking his head towards Harry, who is standing beside Sirius clearly confused by the mood shift.

“Sirius?” Remus tries, and Sirius does no more than lifting his head, his aristocratic nose in the air and saying, “I’ll be fine, Moony,” not meeting his eyes. Remus nods and waves at everyone a final time before disappearing through the Floo.

Regulus is quick to capture their attention, “Do you think we can get out of this awful place?” and with that things are all set in motion again.

He thinks about the dreadful, ghastly things that must have occurred here. He knows more about this house than he had about his cousins, and he is hopeful that will change. He knows that his cousins both suffered here. The pressure of the lives they were supposed to lead and the likely physical pressure of abuse at the hands of his great aunt. His mother used to tell him after harsh meetings with his father, that he was lucky compared to his cousins.

Prior to his father completely losing his good thinking, but perhaps that had been lost long before Draco had been born when he had first joined the ranks of a halfblood sprouting pureblood purist politic, he had never raised a wand to Draco. His voice, certainly, his standards, all the time but it wasn’t until many years later that his mother would explain the pressure his father was under.

His parents were not good people, he thinks they loved him in their own way. Their way had just hurt.

He thinks of his mother decorating for the Dark Lord and he thinks of all the rooms - the doors that never opened once the Dark Lord graced the halls - he never wants to step foot in again. His home was fractured with memories from before and after. It could never give him back all it took. This home, Grimmauld Place, had shattered the people who lived here, sending them into different directions. It had also given them back.

Draco blinks and feels the familiar tug along his navel, and when he opens his eyes he is warmed by the soft ocean breeze.

He hears the soft excited chatter of new friends and family taking in the sights and sounds. He thinks about fading away into obscurity here. He thinks about not giving up, about his life not getting worse and happiness hugging at his lips again.

He can hear his old friends, his loyal Slytherins, his family embrace the new additions.

He knows this will not be easy, the wizarding world will need to mend its broken branches, evil must be rooted out and the ministry must work to restore the broken trust of its people. He also knows that is not the job of children, and as he looks at all of their faces everyone feels so unbelievably young.

He hopes that they can all stay children for just a little longer, this day with its bright sun and new beginning makes him hope that maybe they too can heal.