Chapter 3
Waking up the next morning was less than a pleasant one, just as it had been the day before. His mind, already accustomed to a certain routine, still expected to wake up in his apartment and go to his kitchen for his precious coffee pot, instead the softness of his slytherin bed and the little light that crept in through the curtains that surrounded him.
Draco could hear his roommates moving about and getting ready for the day's classes. He cowered under the covers with his legs to his chest wishing to return to the sweet dreamless unconsciousness of last night.
Slowly he was falling back asleep....
-Draco, get up! We're going to be late if you don't get into the bathroom at once, you take ages to fix your hair! -
Blaise shouted at him outside his curtains and Draco felt the need to reproach him. He didn't take ages to do his hair, it was just that the other boys either didn't do their hair at all or had it so short that you couldn't tell if it was messy. On the other hand, he felt that he looked strange with short hair, and even though it sounded very superficial, he loved his hair. People said it looked like his father's, but anyone who looked closely would notice that it wasn't so white, it still had golden highlights inherited from his mother and if he didn't straighten it, if he let it grow free, the soft waves characteristic of the Blacks would be noticeable.
Draco was about to get up and slowly come to terms with his reality, having to relive his lectures would be a boring torture of relearning subjects he already knew, but another of his roommates spoke, causing him to stop.
-If we're late Sharp will enchant my seat again, -Vincet Crabbe said, -I don't know how the bloody woman knows where I'm going to sit but she does if I don't get there before her and I don't want to lose any more points for being late again this week by being stuck in my seat. -
It hurt. It hurt a lot, the whiplash of nostalgia that ran through his body as he heard the voice of who was his... friend? henchman? bodyguard?
He was never quite sure what Vincent and Gregory were in his life; they were always present, following his "jokes' ' towards others, helping him look more threatening and following him almost everywhere like a pair of guard dogs. They weren't super close as they weren't the ones who listened to his complaints or his sorrows or gossiped like Blaise and Pansy did; they had Quiditch in common and following their parents' orders but what was there besides that and classes.
I also used to think they were huge idiots and they were in academics, but if the last few years at Hogwarts showed anything, it was that they were very good at combative spells and understanding the dark arts. Maybe with a little more guidance, a little more of light, they would have made good Aurors.
Anyway, no, they weren't birds of a feather, they might never have even spoken if it wasn't for their parents bringing them together, but he still grew up with them, with him.
Vincent's death would be something that haunted him for a long time, he still had nightmares of the Fiendfyre licking his feet and then the boy's body with its look of terror falling and vanishing in the heat of the flames.
He wasn't ready to see that living, smiling face again, not yet.
- Vincent, you called her Sharp-tits and a mudblood in the middle of the corridor just because she happened to bump into you - Blaise sounded like he was trying not to laugh at the drama the other boy was making, -I'd say, it's very clever of her to tease you with something you can't prove is her fault, very slytherin of her -
Florence Sharp, a second-year half-blood, talented in charms and who never put her head down. Draco didn't remember ever messing with her before.
Vincent muttered something angrily that Draco didn't hear.
-Get up Draco! –
Blaise had always been the least involved in pureblood beliefs, his mother was a supporter of the idea that as long as they had magic, money and power all else didn't matter, yet outside of the dorms and common room he appeared to be part of the purist group; analyzing opportunities, using his charisma to create allies and remaining neutral in the background.
Mrs. Zabini had raised him as a good prospect to achieve whatever he set his mind to without getting his hands dirty.
-I'm not going to breakfast, go without me, don't you see my arm was almost torn off," Draco replied, "Let a poor helpless wizard rest.
Draco wondered if that would be enough to make them leave him alone, he thought that answer was melodramatic enough to emulate his third-year self.
He heard Blaise grumble under his breath, followed by his footsteps moving away from Draco's bed and joining the banal conversations with the other members of the room.
He let out a quiet sigh, then waited in his bed curled up until he was sure everyone had gone down for breakfast.
It was about 5 minutes before he convinced his body to move his comfortable rest, he went through his bathing routine faster than he ever did in his years of studies; he did a quick change of the bandage, the cut on his arm was a simple scratch with the edges still a bit red but surely by the evening it would be healed with the help of the options; he brushed his hair with some cream and when he was about to brush his teeth, he couldn't find his toothbrush.
-Where I used to leave ... oh right - a belated fact came to him, he didn't use a toothbrush, just a simple mouth cleaning spell was all a mage needed to maintain oral sanity - point for magic, this takes much less time.
After a year and a half without any magic after the war, his sentence changed to 3 years where he was on probation with his wand limited to a number of spells so spending it on that was a waste, so he went into the world of toothbrushes and toothpaste. After a while he got used to it and rarely used the mouth cleaning spells.
He performed the spell with a simple flick of his wand expecting the slight sensation of coolness in his mouth, instead his mouth felt as if he had eaten a bunch of mints and then drank ice water with ice. Draco found himself unable to resist exhaling loudly and almost breathlessly.
-What the hell, where did that come from? - Draco coughed a couple of times, -Blegg, I've got arctic winter in my mouth, - he said.
He turned on the water tap and rinsed his mouth with it until he felt better, gently scratching the itch on the right side of his neck.
-My magic seems to be out of control - If this incident and the one the night before had anything to say - now I must not only control my reactions, but my magic as well.
Draco could feel the beginnings of a headache.
Back in bed, he grabbed the black-covered notebook, the first page of his little improvised plan adding another item.
5) Magical fluctuations
Theory 1: Wand involved, correct connection between magic and magic channeler.
Theory 2: Magical fluctuations due to puberty never happened before.
Theory 3: emotional stress causes instability of magic core
Theory 3 seemed the most likely to him, it was recorded that in situations of extreme danger or stress the basic survival instincts of a wizard or witch would cause extreme fluctuations of magic in order to save the person. There was something similar for muggles with adrenaline causing exceptional events like super-strength or great speed or so it said in the magazine he read once ... and all the research he did after that when his hyper-fixation kicked in.
-Tempus! - Draco conjured, this time prepared, the time appeared much larger than he wanted or needed - 8:50, I can't hide in here anymore-.
Deep inhalation.
1,2,3
Exhale
Draco walks out of the room
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Draco went through his classes in a continuous haze of sadness along with his attempts to not panic, again, by covering it all up with a mask of disinterested coldness. Pansy and Blaise, they surrounded him, isolating him from the rest of the class groups after the attempt to get him to talk but instead noticed his apathy.
When Pansy tried to tell him the latest gossip she had missed, expecting sarcastic responses from Draco, he only responded with monosyllables; when Blaise asked for his Potions homework and Draco handed it over effortlessly, without asking for anything in return, they were concerned, but accepted his silence and stayed close to him in case the blond wanted to talk.
He even though he saw a hint of suspicion in his godfather when he didn't comment on Granger being a know-it-all in his class.
The thing about Draco was that returning to a lively, vibrant Hogwarts was taking more of a toll on him than his head thought it would.
So many faces of happy children and teenagers, going to class, with no worries other than the crushes of others and avoiding staying in their subjects; some of them he knew would die in the war.
He saw the bodies of some of these kids pawning the walls with their blood and others who did not die but would lose their loved ones there.
-There is nothing to be afraid of, children. Do you distrust your grown-ups? - The Weasley twins' voices rang out in joint harmony, ready to play a joke on the innocent first-years who were unaware of their fame.
Pansy expressed how these Gryffindors were a threat to the magical community and how they should be expelled, Draco would now have to agree and insult the red-headed clan.
But Draco could only remember George Weasley's pain and his screams at finding his other half dead.
He pressed his books to his chest and walked faster to his last class of the day.
He scratched the itch in his whole neck as he walked into the DADA class until it stopped when Draco moved to the back of the class.
He remembered this class: Boggarts with Professor Lupin.
Lupin was the only competent teacher they had besides Snape in sixth year, the werewolf (rumors were rife at the end of that year for his dismissal) taught with patience and passion for his subjects. Draco respected that.
The class went on as he half-remembered it.
-Repeat after me, Ri-Di-Ku-lus," Lupin instructed.
-Ridikulus- repeated the third year.
-This class is ridiculous, - Draco whispered, looking down at his feet so that the smirk on his face wouldn't show through his bland pun, and he still had to maintain his reputation as a spoiled prat.
They faced their fears one by one.
Neville feared Snape; Weasley, acromantulas, not as if Draco could blame him; Parvati, snake.
Potter was about to go through his turn and reveal how he feared Dementors and Lupin would jump in to save him from the boggart, when the teacher stopped him, causing confusion in the class.
-One second, Mr. Potter- Lupin turned his back on the boggart and scanned the group of students, " I would like another student to try it before you-" He said.
That was weird.
Draco broke away from the wall he was leaning against with a grimace of dismay on his face. That wasn't how things had been before, everything was supposed to be the same as that time.
Had Draco changed anything?
No, no, nothing should be changing.
Calm down," he said to himself mentally, "another student will pass and then Potter will go on as before.
Yes, someone else going a little earlier than the chosen one wouldn't change the outcome of that class.
-Mr. Malfoy," Lupin called after him.
Draco had to stop assuming things before their time and the accumulation of insults that went through his head at that moment were too many and too explicit.
The whole class turned to look at him. Potter did not look pleased to have his turn taken away from him.
-Please come forward, it's time for a Slytherin to make an attempt as well- the teacher's tone was calm and jovial, just a teacher trying to include his students in his class. Draco walked to the front more slowly than he wanted to; Lupin put a hand on his shoulder bringing him in front of Parvati's clown - I heard you were good at this subject the previous years, this will be a piece of cake I assure you, you know, just think of something funny and -
-Ridikulus, yeah I know, thank you. -
Kay, that sounded more aggressive than Draco meant it to. His teacher didn't seem offended. With open palms upwards and a forward motion, he instructed for Draco to face the creature.
Draco looked down as he pulled out his wand, he didn't know what he would be facing, he wasn't sure what his worst fear was anymore, at least not for the adult Draco in this teenage body.
Would it be Voldemort with his reptilian face?
Greyback? The werewolf always looked at him like a delicious piece of meat
Maybe it would be Bellatrix with her training and punishments that involved a lot of crucios towards Draco.
He clenched his wand tightly. He'd survived a war; he could handle a mere creature. He knew the spell.
He looked up and approached the boggart, the creature made eye contact with him before it turned into a cumulus of black smoke that had not yet decided on a shape and hovered in a dark swirl.
It seemed like an eternity until the being took a form, not at all what Draco expected and yet, he wasn't entirely surprised.
Draco thought he heard noises of disbelief behind him.
The boggart in the form of Lucius Malfoy approached his son with a graceful stride and haughty posture, a look of hatred along with a grimace of displeasure, which Draco knew well, adorned his features as he watched his bewildered heir.
-Draco, what have I told you about that frightened fawn look, a Malfoy shows no fear." The retort to his father's contemptuous tone sent a shiver down his spine, "Are you listening to me?
Boggart Lucius raised the tone of his voice to a rabid one, his right hand already gripping the cane that contains his wand in a way that only meant trouble and pain for Draco.
The blond, still in shock, with adrenaline beginning to fill his veins from his father's appearance, couldn't respond quickly enough by Malfoy standards.
-I will not let you ruin the name of this family! –
That single sentence spoken by his angered father snapped him out of his stupor, Lucius always said that sentence as a mantra before using the cane.
He knew the spell
-RIDIKULUS! -
Draco's shout was faster than his father's boggart retort. The image of Lucius changed to one of a man in a clown suit that could not be fully appreciated, Draco's spell like all the previous ones that day came out with too much force, not only transforming the boggart but also turning it back and locking it with such force in its cabinet that the cabinet itself fell backwards onto the floor.
TUNK
The wood rattled loudly as it hit the floor and kicked up a light layer of dust.
Draco stood there still with his wand raised and his heart racing, it seemed that his heart was only racing these days, when would he get a break?
He could hear Lupin giving directions to the rest of the students to leave the room and the complaints of some of them.
Gently he relaxed his stance and finally lowered his wand, just in time for his teacher to step in front of him.
-Hey, hey - whispered his teacher as if talking to a wounded animal, - calm down, yeah, are you alright? -
Draco didn't know how to answer.