Love Letters to You

150 galleons.

That is the worth of the current betting pool that unites Hogwarts better than Dumbledore and anyone has ever managed to accomplish since Salazar Slytherin himself has left.

150 galleons.

It is no small amount, as Ronald Weasley would point out, his laugh heaving from both mirth and indignation.

You might wonder what on earth could be worth such a fortune. Why would so many students, all blood status and House alike, waste their money on a bet of all things?

You can thank the Weasley twins for that.

The bet?

Why, when Hogwart’s power couple will finally acknowledge their fierce and evident love for one another.

Because though Hogwarts is a battleground of ideologies – where students tear each other apart in the name of light and dark propaganda and blood discrimination – most can agree on one thing.

Harry James Potter and Elara Vespera Black should just shut up and get a room.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, Year 0 of knowing Elara Vespera Black

Draco Lucius Malfoy is Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, a son of Black, and a prodigy if he may say so himself.

It is nothing less than what is expected of him. After all, he is Pureblood Royalty and wears that title like it is his due.

And for all the praise and favor he brings to his House, he is lavished with love and gold by his parents. His lord father and lady mother love him too much to refuse him, and so, Draco knows that whatever he wishes for will be obtained.

It is the way of the world.

If he wants something, he will get it.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, however, has never wished for a sister. Too cumbersome to entertain, too much to handle, as his experiences with Pureblood witches have taught him. Merlin forbids his sister would be another Pansy Parkinson. No, Draco is happy enough as the sole Heir and the sole child that his parents dote on.

Till one day, his lady mother, Lady Narcissa Malfoy née Black, brings back to the Manor a small girl with ebony for hair and stars for eyes.

“Draco, darling,” his lady mother starts with a loving smile and a gentle hand on the girl – she almost looks like a fairy, Draco can’t help but think – shoulder. “This is Elara Vespera Black.”

At her name, the fairy curtsies elegantly, her emerald skirts pooling at her feet in a pond of silk and tulle. Draco bows back deeply.

His mother then turns towards Elara Black, eyes softening. “And Lady Elara, may I present to you my son and heir, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

“Pleasure Heir Malfoy,” Elara says softly. Her voice is bright, a breeze of softness and sweetness. Draco thinks that maybe this is love for his very soul sings as their magic brush together. 

“Call me Draco,” he can’t help but say. Internally, he winces as soon as his words escape him. It is a breach of etiquette, of decorum to ask such familiarity from a Pureblood maid, especially one from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, but there is something warm in his chest as he takes her hand and presses a light, chivalrous kiss to it.

His mother’s brow quirks in amusement.

“Call me Elara, then.”

He does. 

And maybe one day, he could call her a Malfoy too.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, Year 2 of knowing Elara Vespera Black

The thought of marrying Elara lasts about a month of Elara’s stay at the Malfoy Manor till it crumbles into a pile of ashes, never to be mentioned again lest Draco will hex her.

Oh, do not get him wrong. Elara is almost as perfect as him.

Well-mannered, educated, powerful. A perfect Heiress, Pureblood Royalty just like him, in fact with Selwyn blood and Black blood coursing through her veins, two ancient and pure lineages that can trace back their lines in the Avalon times.

Yes, Elara is a delight.

But where she should have ice in her blood and duty in her mind, she holds instead fire and mischief.

And Draco, well, he wouldn’t have her any other way.

It would do well for everyone to realize that Draco had not fallen in love at first sight. Not at all even if his cousin turned sister is beautiful, the kind that gets poems and songs written about it for ages to come. 

He did not. 

Though he did love her as soon as their magic met. 

It is a different kind of love, one that took research to explain and words more elequantly put by his cousin. 

The Malfoy library answers their questions. 
Soul-siblings. 

It is a bond both revered and prized among Pureblood for it is Magic's blessing on two souls that were destined to meet and love one another. 

Elara Black is Draco's soul sister. 

Thus, by logic, she is his. 

...

His sister is a particular thing.

Loyal to a fault, almost to an extreme though his lady mother only applauds it, calls it the Black’s love. Elara can be the cruelest or the kindest witch one might know.

Ask Ernie Macmillan, who thought himself to have Black blood, as diluted as it may be.

He laughed at Neville Longbottom’s stutter in the heir’s own manor. Called him a disgrace, a squib that should have been drowned at birth for the shame he brings the Black name.

For that alone, Elara cursed him.

Without a wand.

The Heiress to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black magically sews Macmillan’s mouth shut with a conjured needle and silver thread, eyes that used to be a constellation now a bottomless ocean.

“For the good of wizards, Macmillan,” she sneers with the grace of Narcissa Malfoy and the fierce fury of generations of Black women behind her. “Keep your mouth shut.”

Sure, Lara got almost spit on by Lady Longbottom for her trouble (Draco will make that hag pay for that. One day, he swears because no one can disrespect his beloved in such a way), but Longbottom’s awe and almost worship could have been worth it.

Still, alas the fool is no better than a squib.

“Allies are important, Dray,” his sister, in magic and soul, would tell him fondly, but Draco knows there is no use in cultivating alliances with useless wizards.

No, though his sister would never admit it, she is a protector at heart, and the small blood that ties Longbottom, the great-grandson of Callidora Black, and herself is enough for her to lash out with the fury of a lioness protecting her cub.

Merlin, here he is, Draco Malfoy, using Gryffindor metaphors to describe Elara. Father would have his head for encouraging Elara’s more altruistic sensibilities, for the Heiress of the Black should be cold and vicious, but it would be like asking Draco to stop flying, a needless, cruel thing.  

And well, Draco can never refuse Elara.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, Year 10 of knowing Elara Vespera Black

It is a fact that Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin and Potter's most fervent hater, completely adores his sister. 

It is also a fact that he guards her with the protectiveness of a dragon, fit for his namesake. Draco is not ashamed of those facts, instead, he relishes in them. 

Lara is too precious to waste on fools after all. 

(His sister cares too much sometimes. It is both her greatest strenght and worst weakness. She is too loyal because it is the sole thing she has learned by her Grandmother's hand: to be loyal to family when her father had been traitorous.

Though Sirius Black has repented his way by joining the Dark Lord, the House of Black remembers its heir turning its back on his Family. And Lady Walburga never allowed Elara to forget that fact.

But if loyalty has been carved into Elara's very soul, then madness had blossomed into her blood. It is the Black's curse. And Draco fears the day she grows loyal to someone she cannot protect. It will tear her apart)

So yes, Draco will do anything for his sister to be happy. He can never refuse her. 

Till he realizes that she is in love with Potter.

Oh, she does not realize it and neither does the Scarhead, but the entire school can see how they hover around each other, each drawn to the other and using quips as love language. 

Everyone can see it. 

Everyone knows it. 

But as long as Elara does not realize, does not notice how much her soul sings around Harry freaking  Potter, then all is well. 

But Draco disgresses. Honestly, the mischief that Elara breathes into his world is astonishing. 

Of all wizards - of all her suitors from around the World, all more prestigious and wealthy and respectable - why would Elara Black, Heiress to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Heiress Selwyn and sister to the House of Malfoy would choose orphan, no better than average Potter?

Potter, Saint little Potter, who courts danger everywhere he goes. Potter who somehow made Lara soften to him in a way most of the world will never achieve to. 

No, Draco will not allow Lara to give her heart to someone that will not guard it like it is his most precious possession. 

...

“Hey, Lara?”

“Yes, Dray?”

“Remember when I vowed to give you the stars and the moon? Anything to make you happy?”

Elara smiles, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Of course, brother dearest. No one has yet beaten that love confession. You have set my standards for wizards so high that Aunt Cissa fears for my future courtship.”

Draco flushes pink at the memory and pats away Elara’s fingers that attempt to pinch his cheek as she coos in adoration at the sight of him.

"Well,” he continues, pressing on despite the heat in his cheek and the reminder of his obscure past. “I take it back. I’ll give you the stars and the moon. Even the sun for that matter if you so wish for. But not Potter.”

Elara quirks an eyebrow, a mirror of their his mother. “You would give me the world, yet Potter is where you draw your limit? Potter of all things? We are still talking about silly Potter? The one I hexed yesterday?”

-------------------------------------------- Yesterday:   

"Honestly Potter, you would think that you would be able to complete the first task with finesse rather than just fly around like a fool, waiting to be roasted." Elara sneered. 

Potter rubs the back of his neck with a smirk, though anger clenches his jaw. "Careful Black, one might think you were scared for me." 

"More so scared for the poor dragon that would have gotten you as a meal."

"We both know I fly too well for that." 

"Tell that to the hospital bed that has your name on it." 

"You can tell him that the next time you visit the hospital wing." 

Elara scoffs. Draco despairs internally. Blacks do not scoff, Lara, he wishes to shake her awake and tear her away from Potter whose body is completely angled towards his sister though his green eyes are stormy and words biting. "Is that a threat?" she asks.  

Potter shrugs. "I just wonder who'll be the first to visit the hospital wing between the two of us. I actually have reasons to be healed, what's your excuse? Too frail?"

Oh, he did not go there. 

Draco seethes at the gall of the Scarhead, he who flings remarks like Diffindos yet he does not have the decency to acknowledge it. His fingers palm his wand, a curse already on his lips, but Elara stops him. Of course, she does not wish to appear weak, to have her brother step in when she is just as capable to destroy him. And if she doesn’t, well, Draco would graciously volunteer. Still, he rages.

Excuses. 

Walburga Black had hated those. 

Anytime that Elara had failed to meet her expectations, had failed to erase the stain that her father left behind because she was too weak, too much like her father at his age, Walburga would lash out. 

It was almost like breathing sometimes was a rebellion. 

Did you know that Elara's fragility had not come with birth? Oh no, who might have thought that the Cruciatus curse could harm a child? Certainly not him. Ha. 

Elara's eyes turn cold, and her body coils itself like the snake she is. She smiles prettily, but it is a smile with too much teeth. 

She waves her wand, a wordless hex hitting Potter who is sent barreling in the wall. Chatter approches them, Weasley's voice and the Mudblood's easily recongnizable. Draco nods at Crab, sending him to disturb the two thirds of the so called Golden Trio so his sister can finish her business, but Elara shakes his head.

She then summons Potter's hideous glasses and slips them on the top of her head which again is not something a Pureblood maiden should do. But well, who would know? She sneers down at Potter, crouching where he lays as he blinks stupidly and she pokes his forehead. 

"I'll be taking that, thank you very much." 

"Black, I need them to see." Potter objects, squinting his eyes and shifting closer to Elara. 

"Well, if you saw me as frail with them, you obviously need a new pair. You won't need those old things. Let's go, Draco."

"Of course, Elara." Draco responds, presenting her his arm as curtesy would have it. He sneers down. "Scarhead." 

And the two leave, hearing Weasley's indignant call as they turn the corner. )---------

Yes, that Potter. 

The same one who somehow had gotten a repaired, higher quality pair of glasses this morning. 

Draco huffs at her incomprehension. For all of Elara’s ruthlessness and cunningness, his sister is still painfully oblivious to what the rest of Hogwarts sees.

Blacks are renown for their infamous ice mask, the shields that separates the world from their heart. Yet when it comes to the little lion, Elara wears her heart on her sleeve, though she does not see it.

It is fine that way, better than fine actually. For once her obliviousness suits his wishes. 

“Yes, Potter is my limit. No Potter allowed,” he stresses to her, even pointing his finger at her to emphasis his plea.

Elara nods in amusement.

“Sure,” she agrees, “no Potter for me.”

Draco Lucius Malfoy, Year X of knowing Elara Vespera Black

While Blaise Zabini – Blaise, his very best friend, the one he hoped to push toward his sister because Blaise would sooner slit his own throat than betray Lara – gleefully pockets the 150 galleons, Draco groans. 

Because there, in front of him is Potter, a love-sick and absolutely disgusting smile on his face, as he tucks a small ebony strand of hair behind Elara’s ear.

Revolting. 

Not his sister's happiness, of course. Her smile is one of the brightest Hogwarts will ever see and her eyes sparkle like gems, or rather stars. 

But it is his sister's cheek that Potter kisses. 

Does that boy know no shame? Does he not see that Draco is right in front of him?

(though a small part of Draco points out that he insisted on chaperoning his sister, but it is not like he can leave the two alone. Honor and Blood refuse to.)

"Mine," Elara whispers, interlacing her delicate fingers with Potter's. 

Elara likes to know where people stand. With her or against her. 

"Yours," Potter repeats like a promise. He brings their linked hands to his lips and kisses Lara's. 

And Draco Malfoy, heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, brother to the bane of his existence, slams his forehead on the Slytherin table.

Extra Scene: the Yesterday Even mentionned with Harry and Elara

But Draco knows not is that the pair of glasses had been delivered with a note that read: 

It wouldn't do for one of Hogwarts champions to be blind to Heiress Black's greatness.

It also wouldn't do if a certain idiot got killed because he couldn't see what was happening. Especially someone with Black Blood. That would be the epitome of a disgrace to my name and I happen to be quite proud of it.

And you're not a disgrace, are you, Potter? 

Harry snorts a laugh at Elara Black's notes.

Only her could sound so insulting yet concerned. Not that she would ever admit to it.

He should send it to Sirius, he is sure that his Godfather would adore it. He would laugh, roll to the floor in laughter, but then quieten at the reminder that his daughter knows nothing of him. 

Harry really should. 

"Gemino", he whispers and Elara's note (he calls her Elara in his mind, but he knows he must not slip up around her because Elara would hunt him down with a vengence for that breach of propriety) is duplicated. The Gryffindor carefully tucks the original in a leather bound photo album, setting the copy aside to be sent along his latest message to Padfoot.