Rule #13

Draco never thought it would go this far. Not his time at summer camp, not his thirst for vengeance, and certainly not his friendship with Harry. 

But here he is, more than six weeks into Hogwarts, happily cabin-mates with one Harry Dursley, his best friend. Forever friend. Draco himself is mystified by how much he adores Harry, and in turn, how much Harry has made Draco adore camp. Or maybe the rationale isn’t all that muddled, what with Harry’s bright, golden persona and Draco’s dark, silver pretense.

If Draco were being generous, and he’s often not, he might even call them made for each other. 

Ridiculous, yes!

Yet their bond has only become all the more palpable after the sorting hat wisely recognized Harry’s cunning and placed him in Slytherin. In truth, Draco’s obsession with Harry, a completely healthy and altogether justified infatuation, is only rivaled by his passion for sweet, sweet retribution. 

How he yearns for Sirius and Regulus’ doom!

Draco’s cousins do not deserve the happiness he found with Harry, nor the comfort his mom has discovered away from his father; no, they deserve every misfortune, every misery that Naricssa went through trapped in the Black dynasty alone. 

But while Draco’s scheming has been undeniably impressive, not to mention covert, he has yet to accomplish true revenge. Kidnapping Regulus only brought him and James closer, and showing Remus that photo seemed to do just the same for Sirius! 

Draco laments the two weeks left of camp, partially because he’s enjoying himself, but mostly because he’s running out of time—as his dad might say his window of opportunity is closing, and in half a month, the glass panes will be bolted shut. 

Hence why Draco has succumbed to plebian espionage: eavesdropping. 

“Shhh,” Draco shushes Harry again. 

Harry nods and tucks his lips between his teeth. They both press closer to the small clerestory, an opaque window at the top of the wall, the craft house’s roof just a few inches above. 

It had been Draco’s idea to investigate when he saw Regulus storm past their glass torch art activity with Peter. Thanks to the buddy system, he and Harry both managed to slip away to the bathroom, veering down the slope right after Regulus. 

But now that they are standing on milk crates, peering into the craft house where James and Regulus sit, Draco firmly regrets his decision. 

Regulus had seemed upset, his expression set in determination as if he might start a riot—and that was what Draco signed up for. Ammunition for blackmail. Not…kissing!

However, after the first wave of horror abates, Draco realizes that he can still exploit this information. According to his research into the Hogwarts handbook, there’s a rule against counselors’ dating. Number thirteen, if Draco isn’t wrong, and naturally, he never is. 

“Woah,” Harry breathes.

Inside the messy room, a first-grader’s paradise swarming with discount craft materials, James is lying on top of Regulus, kissing and kissing and yes, indeed, they’re still kissing. 

Then James takes Regulus’ face in his hands, laughing. “I’ve wasted so much time.”

“None of it was a waste.”

Draco silently gags at how smitten Regulus sounds. 

“You’re right.” They kiss once, twice, then James murmurs. “You’re always right, Reggie.”

This time, they touch each other with a new urgency, James crawling closer to Regulus, someone making a terribly strange noise and—

“That’s enough,” Draco steps away, yanking Harry down with him. Any longer and Harry would be scarred from two of his favorite counselors exploring…intimacy. 

“I told you!” Harry whisper-screams when they find their way to the ground. “Jegulus is real. True love is totalllyyyy real.”

Draco sighs. He has worked very hard to keep Jegulus apart, to keep Regulus unhappy and miserable, but at the sight of Harry’s grin, it’s hard for him to pout. “You’re right, Harry. They seem to be fond of each other.”

“In love,” Harry corrects.

“Well, that’s not evident. Kissing doesn’t necessitate—”

Harry shakes his head. “Regulus has awoken from his beauty sleeping with James’ true love kiss and now they’re going to live happily ever after and soon enough Sirius and Remus will figure out they’re in love too, and just like in the Little Mermaid Remus will defeat the big octopus and find his voice—his memories—and tell Sirius how much he loves her—”

“Your metaphors are getting worse and worse,” Draco has to interject. 

But Harry plows on, “And then Dorcas and Marlene will fall in love too and well, obviously Evan and Barty, everyone knows they’re already engaged so they’ll have a nice big wedding and invite everyone and oh boy I hope they invite us…”

Draco’s eyes widen as Harry continues rambling, thick tears spilling down his cheeks. “Harry—Harry?” he cuts him off, pulling him away from the craft house so they’re not overheard. They find a spot on the slope of wood chips at the edge of Slytherin, not far from their cabin. 

“Why are you crying? What did I do wrong?” Draco tries to rub soothing circles on Harry’s arm but he worries that it’s only awkward. He worries that his skepticism has once again upset Harry, that he’s too negative, too goddamn cynical for Harry. 

But he doesn’t say any of that. No, like his mom does when he’s upset, he continues rubbing circles on Harry’s arm and waits for him to be ready to talk. 

“I just—I’m so happy for them but I’m so sad that what they have is so so so rare! And my parents—” Harry sniffs, scowling. “My parents have never loved each other, not even the way friends do, like I love you, and Draco we’ve only got like two weeks left and it’s not enough time, I don’t want to go back home, they’re going to be so angry with me for running away, I have to stay here with you and with everyone. No one can ever ever leave!”

Draco's mind whirls with everything Harry’s said, and he takes his time categorizing the information, filing the details into his room full of Harry—Harry’s likes and dislikes, his past, his hopes, his friends, his enemies, his secrets. Draco takes one last look around his mental sanctuary, surveying the facts like he would an equation on a whiteboard, then returns to reality. 

“You’re not going back to your parents.” 

“W—what?” Harry stammers at Draco. 

“Did you know Pansy’s dad is a famous lawyer?” Draco smirks as Harry shakes his head, his green eyes dazed. “And my mom has a whole team of lawyers helping her with her divorce. All that’s to say is that I know people, powerful people, and I will make sure that you don’t go back to that…place.”

Draco doesn’t dare call it a home. 

“That’s really nice, Draco. Super nice. But I can’t leave my mom. Or my brother.”

Draco tries really hard to understand, but he left his dad, and he’s not half as brave as Harry, so really, he can’t fathom what’s holding Harry back. “Why?” he asks, perhaps too bluntly.

Harry shrugs. “I love them.”

“Even though they let your dad…” Draco trails off, not wanting to say the words, to force the truth into the air between them. They’ve waltzed around the topic for weeks, Harry’s horrible dad, and Draco wants Harry to tell him everything and anything, his forever secret keeper, but he knows how hard it is to talk about it. He knows. 

“I’m not the only one who my dad…hurts,” Harry adds, looking at his hands.

“But you’re the only one with a scar,” Draco guesses. “No?”

Harry chews on his lower lip. “It was an accident.”

“But he was drunk.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s fingers come up to his forehead, but they don’t touch the skin, as if he can’t manage that last inch. 

It’s dreadful, the fear and sorrow spoiling Harry’s mood, souring his expression; Draco doesn’t want to make Harry feel anything less than spectacular, he wants to be a source of comfort, so he scrambles for something as light and bright as Harry. 

“You said, uhm.” Draco blushes at his own incoherence. “You said that you love me? And I just wanted to say that, well, I love you too.”

God, besides his mom, Draco’s never said that to anyone. It’s so mortifying!

Nevertheless, somehow Draco’s words work, and Harry’s eyes brighten. He sits up and takes both of Draco’s hands, squeezing them in time to his pulse. “That’s so awesome!”

Draco doesn’t have much time to bask in Harry’s joy before he hears the familiar crunch of steps over wood chips. 

“Harry!?” James blurts at the same time as Regulus says, “Draco?”

The two counselors step away from each other, but Draco doesn’t miss the way their hands seem to reach for each other still. 

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asks in a cool tone. 

It’s not a good look, Draco realizes, Harry and Draco hiding in Slytherin when they should be in an Activity. Then there’s Harry’s swollen eyes, a tell-tale sign that he’s been upset. 

Naturally, James proceeds to freak out. “Harry—what’s wrong, are you hurt, why didn’t you radio me?”

Harry smiles as James crouches beside them, while Draco rolls his eyes. 

“I’m great, Prongs! Really! There’s so much love in the air today, and at first it made me sad, but now I’m back to glad. Oooo I’ve rhymed, did you hear, Draco?” 

“Yes,” Draco says dryly. “You’re as eloquent as Shelley.”

“I don’t know who that is but I reallllyyyy hope they’re someone cool.”

Then, as if Harry can’t stand to sit still any longer, he jumps up and hugs James tightly. This time, Draco can’t manage to roll his eyes, not with the knot of affection in his throat and that prickling sense of Regulus’ stare.

Draco turns to his counselor slowly. “We were on our way to the bathroom. You have no evidence that we were doing anything else.”

“The bathroom’s that way.” Regulus gestures up the hill.

“We were going to a different one, obviously. The Slytherin bathrooms are haunted.”

James and Harry finish their love fest then, and pull apart. 

“Draco’s totally right, I swear I’ve seen a ghost in there once or twice,” Harry easily lies. 

Draco’s learned not to underestimate his friend in this regard, Harry’s always quick with a cover-up, save for that one time in Lily’s office. The memory of that day still makes Draco shudder. Thanks to Harry’s foolish admiration of James, his “Prongs”, he broke during their interrogation, spilling the truth of their matchmaking antics. Draco would have preferred to keep that abecedarian plan a secret, but he couldn’t fault Harry for his confession; after all, he’d done the same thing with Barty, and much to his regret, Dorcas. She had seemed to understand Draco for some reason though, and hadn’t treated him differently after their strange conversation, despite his embarrassing cry. 

Honestly, Draco has never cried as much as he has at Hogwarts! He’s also never smiled as much, but that’s beside the point. 

“Slyherin’s scary,” James agrees solemnly, then nudges Harry. “Bet you miss the Gryffindor life.”

“No.” Harry looks at Draco with a wide grin. “I quite like Slytherin.”

******

After a wonderful Activity alongside Barty and Hermione saving the bees, Hogwarts’ three apiarist heroes, Draco walks back down to camp with a skip in his step. He rather enjoys Hermione’s company these days, what with her clever wit, and vast stores of historical and literary knowledge. She’s an entirely tolerable ex-Gryffindor turned Slytherin. 

Pansy, on the other hand, remains firm in her detestment. 

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do anymore!” Hermione groans. “You know, I can sometimes feel Pansy glaring at me when I’m trying to fall asleep. But of course, whenever Regulus is looking she’s perfectly nice, even friendly, and then the second he looks away, she’s a demon.” 

“Pansy’s not a demon,” Draco cuts in. “More of a vampire. Eternally bloodthirsty.”

Hermione’s nose wrinkles at the image. “Can you please talk to her, Draco? She actually respects your opinion.”

“Yes, I am quite respectable.”

Hermione nudges him. “Please?”

Draco is of the opinion that Pansy’s rivalry with Hermione is a cover for envy, or perhaps even a crush. While their feud is ever so entertaining to Draco, it does tend to dampen Harry’s spirits, so he gives in.

“Quid pro quo,” Draco offers prudently. “A favor for a favor.”

“You don’t ask Harry for favors when you help him!” Hermione sputters. 

“Harry’s different,” is all Draco says before he quickens his pace, heading straight for the dining area where he knows his best friend, his forever friend is waiting. 

He spots Harry’s hands first, his fingers fidgeting behind his back as he rocks on his toes beside his former cabin’s table. Ron sits and glares at Harry, while Neville is clearly failing to diffuse the tension. 

“What have we here?” Draco says in a cold voice, stepping forward so that he and Harry’s shoulders brush. 

Harry seems to relax a little at that, which floods Draco with a sense of incomparable worth. 

“Oh good, your new best friend is here,” Ron spits at Harry. 

Hermione finds her way to them then, and the look she gives Ron frightens even Draco. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Ron!” Hermione’s brown skin shimmers and Draco guesses that she’s borrowed Theo’s sparkled sunscreen yet again. “Just because we’ve changed cabins doesn’t mean we can’t all be friends!”

“Yeah!” Neville’s voice squeaks. 

With a disgusted sigh, Draco turns his attention to Neville, the child of Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were once together, but are now apparently parted. Amicably. Whatever that means. And, as Draco learned a few weeks ago, Alice has taken it upon herself to date Narcissa. 

Draco’s mom. His mother!

It had been a terrible shock that parents’ weekend when Naricssa introduced her new girlfriend, smiling in a way Draco didn’t think his mom was capable of—wide and relaxed, like she was drunk. Or perhaps psychotic. 

Of course, a part of Draco is ecstatic that his mom has found some company, someone who at least appears to be good for her, though Draco reserves the right to judge Alice further. He’s relieved that his mom isn’t stuck in their apartment alone, missing him. 

However, the less kind, more envious part of Draco, the 23 chromosomes of DNA he gets from his lousy father, despises the change. 

Was he not enough for his mom? Did he not prove to her through all his Activity accomplishments and letters that things were fine, that nothing had to change, that Narcissa should and could be happy?!

Evidently, she wanted more than something her son could give her. 

“Draco, darling. You mustn’t worry about me, it’s my job to worry about you. I sent you to Hogwarts so you could enjoy yourself, I do not expect anything more than your own happiness.”

The thought of his mom’s voice makes Draco want to throw himself on the ground and cry, or perhaps sprint through the woods, along the freeway, all the way back to Hogsmeade and hide with his mom under the covers, the way they used to when Lucius was grumpy. 

Draco’s not a child anymore, however. And his mom isn’t home waiting desperately for his arrival. She has someone new. 

Neville’s mother. 

Honestly, Draco didn’t think anything of the boy before—Neville was quiet and shy, and altogether unremarkable—but now Draco has an entire list of things that he finds irrevocably wrong about the Longbottom heir. Perhaps one day he’ll write them all down and give it to Neville, so he can learn from his own idiocy and grow into something respectable. 

The thought snaps Draco back to the present, and he chuckles darkly. 

“Come on, Harry,” Draco sneers. “Let’s not waste our time with idiots.”

“What did you just say?!” Ron shouts, his face matching his ginger hair. 

“You heard me.”

“Hey—both of you, stop it!” Harry’s hands flail at his sides. “I hate all this fighting, no one wants this, can we all please make up and—”

“No, you left, Harry. You’re the one that has to apologize.” Ron slaps his hands on the table and stands from the bench. 

Anger bubbles up within Draco, something fierce and fiery boiling his common sense into liquid indignation. 

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Hermione says at the same time as Draco hisses, “Watch your fucking tone, Weasley.”

The swear word seems to shake Ron’s confidence, and he sits down warily while Neville slides backward on the bench, watching Draco with puppy dog eyes. Good. Draco prefers intimidation to underestimation—it’s better they fear him than think him weak. 

“You’re just jealous because you’re mediocrity pales in the face of Harry’s brilliance,” Draco says with a smirk. “It’s a shame you’re both ugly too.”

The words land in punches, Neville and Ron flinching back, their expressions so plainly sensitive. Draco would never let his face betray such a flaw. 

Then Harry turns to Draco and the simmering anger within cools to guilt. Draco doesn’t have to ask this time, he knows he’s done something wrong. And by the look on Harry’s face, he went too far. 

That’s when, of course, Harry’s second favorite hero comes forward. 

Lily’s hair is pulled into one braid, and her expression is as stern as that portrait of Draco’s great-aunt Walburga, which makes Draco feel wobbly and wrong, but he doesn’t show it. No, he stands tall and proud, a portrait of his father. 

Draco can barely regret his own mental comparison when Lily calls Sirius and Regulus over, whispering to them in a furious tone. 

Then the five campers are being hauled away. 

When Draco looks back to the dining area, he finds Pansy sitting alone at their table, arms crossed and brows raised. “Good luck,” she mouths. 

******

Lily has taken it upon herself to talk to them one at a time as if she’s the Camp Director or something. Draco finds it all ludicrous. Just punish them and get on with it, honestly. 

But no, the Hogwarts way is to talk things out, sit in a circle, and emote with each other or something. It’s nothing like the discipline Draco is used to from his father or his school in Hogsmeade, where he sits through lectures about reputations and school records—no, Lily’s tactic appears to be something more…sentimental. 

In short, Draco anticipates downright torture. 

He rehearses his answers as they sit outside Lily’s office, waiting for Neville to finish his turn. 

Ron busies himself with tying, then untying his shoelaces, muttering about how stupid it is that he’s being punished when it’s the stupid Gryffindors’ fault. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t know any stronger adjectives than stupid. 

Draco ignores him, but Harry and Hermione seem to tense at every word until Sirius finally asks Ron to take a walk with them. 

Harry lets out a long breath when Ron and Sirius go off into the distance. 

Draco doesn’t relax, however, not when Regulus is observing the three of them as if dissecting the truths from their brains. The thought makes Draco’s stomach drop. If anyone were to have dark telepathic powers, it would be someone from his cursed family. 

So just in case, Draco thinks of anything but the truth, reciting bee facts with vigor. 

He can almost see Regulus become frustrated when his mindreading fails, and AHA! Draco has once again bested his distant cousin and counselor. 

Then Harry’s elbow digs into Draco’s arm. “Why did you say those mean things?”

“I say a lot of things, most of them mean, so you’re going to have to be more specific.” Draco is sure to keep his voice low, he doesn’t want Regulus overhearing and collecting any more evidence against him. 

“About, you know, Ron?” Harry whispers. “You sounded like a bully, Draco.”

“I guess I am.” Draco doesn’t think much of it, but Harry certainly does. 

“No, you aren’t!” 

At Harry’s exclamation, Regulus cocks his head at them. 

Draco’s jaw clenches. “Not now, Harry.”

“I don’t care if Regulus hears!” 

“I do!”

It’s Hermione who shushes them, “Stop it. Haven’t we all fought enough?”

Draco nods and settles back into the silence, keeping his mind free of anything incriminating, when Harry begins, “You’re not bad, Draco. You’re not your dad and you’re not bad. But if you keep saying those things…”

When Harry trails off, Draco scoots in closer, his shoulder and hips brushing Harry’s. He would rather not have this conversation now, in front of Hermione and Regulus, but Harry seems too distraught to wait. So Draco is careful to keep the details light: “I’m not going to apologize for defending your honor, Harry. And I was merely saying the truth.”

“It was mean.”

“Sometimes the truth is mean.”

Harry shakes his head, but before he can say anything else, Regulus clears his throat. 

“What you deem truth seems to be subjective,” Regulus says to Draco. “Perhaps your perception of Ron and Neville differs from Harry's.”

“This is a private conversation,” Draco says in the sweetest voice he can manage. He’s worked hard not to tip Regulus or Sirius off about his plans for vengeance, much less his hatred of them, but his act is being tested now more than ever. 

“It does,” Harry says in a small voice. “I don’t think Neville or Ron are ugly. Or, uhm, medio—”

“Mediocre,” Draco supplies.

“Right. Well, I don’t agree.”

Draco struggles with that because he’s usually right, and evidence suggests that Ron and Neville are truly idiots, lacking in all the things that come to Harry naturally, including but not limited to—general charisma, beauty, intellect, and physical prowess. However, Draco can appreciate, perhaps, that he is a tad bit biased, what with Neville’s mom dating Narcissa and Ron’s unjustified grudge against the Slytherins. 

In truth, ever since Ron started ignoring Harry, Draco had been plotting his demise. 

“I know you care about them,” Draco says to Harry. “Despite—” he sighs, choosing not to finish that sentence. 

“Whatever your reasons are, they don’t matter, I shouldn’t have deliberately hurt your friends’ feelings. You have my deepest apologies.”

Hermione leans forward, her dark curls popping from behind Harry. Her smile is slow and disbelieving. “Did you really just apologize, Draco?”

“Don’t get used to it.” Draco huffs, feeling especially put out. 

But it doesn’t last long, now when Harry looks at him with light, hope, and love, and wow, Draco can breathe again. He can breathe!

“I know you’re sorry,” Harry says seriously. “Everyone makes mistakes and I’m sure you’ll do better in the future. I believe in you Draco dramatic pause Malfoy!”

Draco stops himself from sighing—sometimes Harry parrots Lily and James, feigning a cheesy, altogether forced maturity not fit for their age. Nevertheless, Draco can’t help but match Harry’s smile. 

“Oh!” Harry shoves a hand into his pocket, pulling out something felt and yellow. “I made this with Luna!” 

Hermione and Draco both share a look. Harry has been working relentlessly to find his ‘thing’, a mission spurred by the talent show where Harry tries every Activity Hogwarts has to offer. He’s so desperate to excel at something before the summer ends, but both Draco and Hermione worry that he gives up too quickly, claiming he’s incapable after only the first try. 

Naturally, Draco and Hermione often share fond, exasperated conversations about their friend. 

“It’s really not that good,” Harry babbles. “I don’t think felting is right for me, but I made it for you, Draco! It’s a Queen bee! You know, the ones you say rule the hives?”

Draco carefully takes the ratty, but altogether adorable felted bee from Harry. 

“That’s incredible,” Hermione says in Draco’s silence, leaning forward to inspect the replica. “You nailed the long body and the stinger!” 

She adds pointedly, “And the more you work on felting, the better you’ll get. Maybe you should sign up for it again tomorrow?”

Harry hums noncommittally and turns to Draco with hopeful eyes. 

“I love it,” Draco says, clutching the bee gently. “I really do.”

Draco only remembers himself when he catches Regulus smiling from the corner of his eye. He turns to his counselor in challenge, this time barely hiding his animosity. How dare Regulus listen, again, to a private moment? 

Honestly, Draco should sue him for all this invasive behavior!

“Something to say, Draco?” Regulus prompts. 

“Nope.” Draco gives him another false smile. “Not at all, dear counselor.”

When Neville finally steps out, Lily calls Harry inside next. Draco is sure to give his friend an encouraging nod, praying to the gods of every religion that Harry doesn’t fall apart like he did the last time he was in that office.

Maybe, Draco hopes fruitlessly, since it’s not James, Harry will be able to maintain his composure.  

Hermione sighs when the door shuts behind Harry. “He’s totally going to freak out.”

“Mmhm,” Draco agrees. 

Neville stays standing, bouncing like he’s about to jump into a jig, then takes one look at Draco and blurts, “I have to pee!” 

Since the Gryffindor bathrooms are in view, Regulus lets Neville go alone. 

Hermione and Draco pass the time with their favorite game, a DIY spelling bee, which is not only an ode to their love for bees, of course, but also a healthy literacy challenge to keep their minds in shape. 

“Belligerence,” Draco poses first, and despite the word’s strange vowels, Hermione doesn’t miss one letter. She picks “Acerbate” next, then Draco chooses “Fallacious”. After Hermione’s “Impetuous”, Regulus interjects:

“Quite the selection of words.” He pauses thoughtfully. “How about I supply the words and you two can do a proper competition?”

Hermione straightens. “I’m game.”

“Sure,” Draco says because he can’t think of a reason not to, and he’s always been a sucker for an intellectual dare. 

“Magnanimous,” Regulus says. “Hermione can go first.”

She spells it easily, so the counselor gives another. “Penchant.”

“I’m trying not to be offended,” Draco says dryly. “Give me a hard one.”

Regulus’ smirk is small, but all too familiar. “How about Reconnaissance?”

“R-E-C-O-N-A—”

“No,” Regulus interrupts and Draco has to hide his clenched fists behind his back. 

Hermione tries next, and gets caught on the S. 

“Can you use it in a sentence?” she asks, voice panicked. Neither she nor Draco are good with academic failure. 

“Lily is carrying out a reconnaissance to uncover the source of your altercation,” Regulus says smoothly.

Draco looks to the side. “This game is pointless, I’m done playing.”

He can practically hear the betrayal on Hermione’s face, but Draco ignores her. 

“For someone with such a strong grasp on words,” Regulus starts. “I’m surprised you would wield them so flippantly, Draco. There’s nothing pointless about the game, in fact, the point is quite clear. You and Hermione are a) bored, b) intelligent, and c) competitive. That’s three points right there. Perhaps the word you were looking for is say…stupid?”

Draco nearly gasps. Did Regulus truly look into his mind and hear his thoughts mocking Ron’s choice of adjective? No, that’s not possible, Draco is not a believer in many things, but he has firm faith in modern science, and there has been no evidence that telepathy exists. 

But just to test, he says into his mind: I know who you are, Regulus Black. 

Regulus’ face does not twist with shock, so Draco considers his hypothesis proven false. Thank goodness!

Neville returns from the bathroom then, his gaze rooted to the ground, hands stuffed in his pockets. Draco feels his first twinge of sympathy for the boy then; it’s not as if Neville asked his mom to date Narcissa. And it’s not as if Neville wants to be an idiot!

Draco scowls at his own sympathy, mentally berating Harry’s horrible influence. 

Sirius and Ron emerge from Gryffindor, the counselor’s arm over Ron’s shoulders, still murmuring something likely maudlin and mawkish into his ear.

As if on cue, Lily’s office door opens, and Harry steps out with the redhead in tow. It strikes Draco then how similar their eyes are, and now that he thinks about it, Harry’s long nose is not unlike Lily’s. 

“How’d it go?” Hermione whispers to Harry. 

He gives her and Draco a thumbs up.

“Hermione, come on in.” Lily gestures inside. 

“Wait—” Draco cuts in quickly. He can feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, most especially Harry’s. 

His mom’s voice finds its way back into Draco’s head, the words she gave him when she decided to divorce Lucius. 

Sometimes it’s worth sacrificing one’s pride, Draco. Especially if it’s for the sake of others.

Though Narcissa wanted to leave Draco’s dad and their family for a whole host of reasons, Draco knows that it was for his sake that she found the courage to do it. For her son, she would do anything. 

“Yes?” Lily prompts, her expression still stern. 

Draco sucks in a breath and swallows his pride. “I would like to extend an apology to my peers Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley.”

Neville squeaks in surprise, but Ron juts his chin out like he’s ready to fistfight. 

“I regret what I said, and while I can only guess as to what you are feeling, I apologize for any negative emotions my words evoked.” Draco clasps his hands and bows his head. “I will work hard to earn your trust and respect in the future, Neville, Ron.”

When Draco looks up, he finds Lily and Sirius wearing matching expressions of shock. Neville smiles weakly in Draco’s direction, though he doesn’t manage to meet his eye, and while Harry’s smile is all pleasant surprise, Hermione’s is knowing. Regulus’ too. 

“Well, that’s…nice,” Lily breaks the silence. 

“I’m glad you think so.” Draco holds himself back from saying, can we all go now? He doesn’t think Lily would appreciate that. 

“I’ll still chat with you Lily, if you’d like,” Hermione says brightly. “I’ve been meaning to pick your brain about college, and I heard you managed to double major in business and English? I also have a lot of thoughts about the new cabin organization, as well as potential ideas for future camp reform.”

Lily’s coughs. “Wow, well. That all sounds great, Hermione.”

“And I should get back to the Activities, don’t want to waste any chances to make camp memories—”

Regulus cuts Draco off,  “Actually, Draco, I think we should have a conversation.”

Draco turns to his counselor slowly. He holds himself back from challenging Regulus, as it will only serve to make him look guilty, but he’s in no mood to put up with him right now. You’d think after six weeks in his cabin Draco would be able to stand Regulus. Alas! 

“That’s a great idea,” Lily says with much too much enthusiasm. 

It doesn’t take an imagination like Harry’s to guess what kind of misery Regulus intends to put Draco through. Sure, Lily’s sentimentality sounded as ghastly as Dante’s hell, but Draco knows not to underestimate his family. 

However, he also knows which of the Black siblings will be easier to manipulate, so he puts on his most innocent voice and asks, “Can I talk to Sirius instead? I’ve just heard from Harry that Padfoot is so easy to share things with, and I’m feeling very vulnerable right now.”

Lily blinks, stunned, while Harry falls for the act. “Draco,” he mouths. “ARE YOU OKAY?”

“How about we both talk to Draco?” Regulus suggests with a pointed look at Sirius. 

After a second of what Draco fears is more telepathy, Sirius jumps to action. “Yep, me, Reggie, and Draco. Fabulous idea.”

It takes everything in Draco not to scowl. 

******

They end up leaving the others entirely, Sirius guiding Draco and Regulus to a legendary tree house, or so she claims, deep in the Wayward Woods. 

Draco can barely stand having to endure both Sirius and Regulus’ company at once, and his stomach ties itself in knots, bracing for whatever comes next. He tells himself to seize this opportunity for vengeance and focuses on strategy like he would at a chess game. 

Perhaps he could try and pit the siblings against each other? It’s a flimsy plan, but Draco is grasping at straws, what with the 2-against-1 attack. 

When they finally make it into the sketchy wooden box bolted against a redwood, Draco presses against the wall. He tucks his legs into his chest, trying to be as far away from Regulus and Sirius as possible, which proves to be futile since the treehouse is obnoxiously tiny. 

“Draco.” Regulus’ voice echoes eerily against the wood. “How long have you known?” 

“I know a lot of things, pray tell, what are you talking about?” 

Sirius snorts, but at the expression on their brother’s face, he sobers. “You think Draco knows about—” 

Regulus cuts Sirius off, “Yes. Draco knows that we’re related.”

It’s not a performance when Draco’s jaw drops to the ground, when he straightens against the scratchy wall. No, the panic coursing through his veins is very very real.  “Wh—what?”

“No, he clearly didn’t know!” Sirius says in a furious whisper to Regulus. 

“He’s pretending,” Regulus brushes Sirius off. I’ve been his counselor for weeks, don’t underestimate me.”

The last bit was directed at Draco, and it makes him a little dizzy, both from respect and fear. Regulus can be downright intimidating when he wants to. 

“Can you—” Draco swallows. “Can you read minds, Regulus?” 

Sirius barks out a laugh, collapsing onto their brother’s shoulder. “Hear that, Reggie? You’re a wizard!” 

“No,” Regulus answers in a calm voice, ignoring Sirius’ laughter. “I’m just observant like you are, Draco.”

The comparison between them makes Draco see Slytherin green. 

Perhaps later he will regret giving up the ruse, but after his total failure with Operation Jegulus, Draco can’t help but feel that his charade of perfection, his tolerance of Regulus and Sirius, was a complete and utter waste of time. 

Besides, Draco’s always been best at making people feel small. Today’s incident with Neville and Ron proved just that. So why not wield his tried and true weapon against his mom’s traitorous cousins? 

Revenge, after all, is an intimate affair. 

Draco smirks. “Fine. Yes, I’m well aware that you two are my mother’s cousins. Honestly, did you think I wouldn’t recognize my mother’s maiden name?”

“It’s a common last name!” Sirius objects. 

“But we’re an uncommonly gorgeous family.”

Regulus and Sirius share a glance. “Did he just call us pretty?” Sirius laughs again.

“How you can find humor in this baffles me,” Draco says in his best imitation of his father. “You not only abandoned my mother, as well as her sisters, but you’ve lied about our shared DNA for weeks.”

“Abandoned your mother?” Regulus repeats. 

“We wanted to tell you, Draco!” Sirius rushes to say.

“Then why didn’t you? Because of one of Dumbledore’s rules? Because you didn’t want to be affiliated with any more of the Malfoys? Because you’re cowards?!”

Regulus looks at Draco, and there’s a touch of pity there, a touch of sadness. Then he says: “Your mom asked us not to.”

“What?” Draco rasps. 

“We were only respecting her wishes.”

Draco hadn’t thought that was a possibility, he had just assumed that it was Sirius and Regulus who were being two-faced and obtuse, but was it really Narcissa who instructed them to keep this from him? 

“Why—why would she—” Draco feels a wave of unprecedented stupidity slice his heart apart. 

He hates doubting his mom, she’s the one thing he’s always been able to believe in, but the more he forces himself to review the facts, the more logic he finds in Regulus’ words.   

“Well,” Draco sniffs, feigning indifference. “She probably only realized that you two were counselors after she sent me here, and didn’t want me to grow fond of her bastard cousins, so she kept me in the dark. It’s quite rational, actually.”

“No,” Sirius says in a gentle voice that makes Draco want to shake and scream. “Narcissa was well aware that I, at least, worked at Hogwarts. I think that’s half the reason she signed you up.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me then?!”

“Your mother is the only one who can answer that,” Regulus says. 

“But if I had to guess?” Sirius purses her lips. “She was testing me and Reggie, trying to see if we were worthy of being in your lives long-term.”

“Oh.” Draco lets the words sink in, understanding slithering around in his chest like a snake. 

Narcissa would only lie to protect Draco, she knows how much he values honesty—nearly as much as he values skilled deception. Perhaps his mom knew about Regulus and Sirius, but she had an agenda, and like usual, it had been for Draco’s benefit.

The realization brings Draco much comfort. How he adores his mom!

“So it all comes back to you, my mother’s disappointing cousins,” Draco sneers. 

“Hey!” Sirius’ blue-grey eyes seem to flare in the dimness. “We’ve done a great job being nice to you this summer, despite your—”

Draco can guess what the end of that sentence was, and he doesn’t necessarily blame Sirius for disliking his father. Of course, he won’t admit that. Instead, he uses Sirius’ slip to his advantage. 

“Oh, I see. Since I’m also his child you can’t stand me?”

Sirius’ brows raise. “Reggie and I had awful birth parents in case you didn’t know. We’d never fault you for something like that.”

Draco scrambles for his next attack, plucking words out of his brain to use as bullets. “My mom would have told me the truth if she believed that you were worthy of knowing me. So clearly you have yet to prove yourselves.”

“Narcissa is probably waiting for you to return home to drop that bomb,” Sirius grits through his teeth. 

“Regardless, it doesn’t change the past. You two abandonedmy mom!”

Sirius and Regulus share yet another look and Draco is fed up, he is so fed up with these jerks! 

“Perhaps you don’t perceive it that way,” Draco directs the diss at Regulus. “But my mom needed people to be there for her, she still does. She deserves a family that roots for her instead of trying to tear her down.”

Draco’s lips wobble as if he might cry. He runs a hand over his face, images of his mother fighting with his dad, packing their things, and crying in the car, plummeting through him. 

“I don’t understand why you two can be there for each other, but couldn’t for my mom.” Draco laughs to hide his croaky voice. “Trust that I will always, always hate you for that.”

Sirius’ eyes squeeze shut as if his mind is taking her somewhere else entirely. 

“I can’t blame you for that,” Regulus says after a moment. “And I do regret that Sirius and I fell out of touch, not just with your mom but with Bellatrix and Andromeda too.”

Draco scrunches his nose at the thought of his estranged aunts, who are all the more despicable for leaving Narcissa with Lucius. 

“But your mom wanted to marry your dad. She wanted to stay in that family, and well, we didn’t.”

“She doesn’t want that anymore.”

“Yeah, thank god,” Sirius breathes, eyes fluttering open. 

Regulus ignores him, “What’s happened can’t be changed, and I’m sure you’re not interested in our excuses. What matters is that we’re trying to build a relationship with her now, Draco. And we’d like to build one with you too.”

Draco spins with the confession, those mushy, sentimental emotions that he had been so determined not to feel, not to allow, finding their way up his throat and to his eyes until a tear spills over the edge. 

After another falls, he croaks: “I’m telling my mom you two made me cry.” 

Regulus smiles at Draco. “I’d expect nothing less. I will, of course, tell her our side of things since I know how skilled you are at spinning stories.”

“Wait—you’re writing to my mom? Not just about me?”

“It’s a recent development,” is all Regulus says. 

Sirius scoots forward, the treehouse structure wobbling with the movement. “We’re sorry if we let down your mom, Draco, but we have no intention of doing it again.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust you?” Draco scoffs, wrapping his arms around his knees. He really wishes Harry were here—all of this would be easier if he could hold his hand, hide his shadows in his brightness. 

“We’ll earn your trust,” Sirius says simply. 

Regulus nods in agreement. “I’m sure you’ll make us work for it.” 

Draco’s lips twitch up against his will. 

“Now,” Regulus begins. “We do have to talk about what you said to Neville and Ron, despite your… extravagant apology.”

Draco cocks his head. “I meant it from the bottom of my heart.”

He doesn’t bother forcing a smile, feigning innocence. No, for once, he lets his cousins see his open, honest hubris. 

After all, it runs in the family.