Chapter 6
Having to eat with Luna wasn’t a very intricate occasion. Odd? Yes. Nothing could ever be especially mundane with someone like Luna. Though that would be a rather inaccurate assessment—no one could ever be like Luna. Draco acknowledged that the most. Her kindness, her oddity, her beliefs were something completely out of a person’s reach to understand or embody. But her resilience was one that Draco saw to be the most difficult.
His last memories of her were becoming weaker, but her delicate, scratched hands against his own when she would attempt to read the lines on his palm remained as warm as the day she first thanked him for caring. His sneer did nothing to hide the fact he was careful with placing down her food, hood drawn up to cover the brightness of his hair. He knew intimately of the schedule around the manor, and he paid close attention to the patterns that transpired between everyone. It was hard in itself to find anyone in the halls commonly with the size of the entire thing, but it was enough for Draco to put together an intricate measurement of just how much time and which time slot he would be able to come and visit Luna.
Of course, at times he wouldn’t be so lucky to come, those moments had him throwing the food into a bin, staring at the ceiling as gruesome ways that Luna could be hurt transpired in the nightmare sketched into his eyelids. He still hated Luna. He hated her compassion and he hated how she was somehow in the right despite her ragged appearance, despite all her suffering. Because Draco was suffering. He was in pain, and he hated all of it—but it always felt like he wasn’t in the right. Even if it did feel like it, seeing Luna so open to her trust to the people she loved was a punch to the gut. Was being right supposed to be this painful? Or was he simply doing it all wrong? The mere thought of doing something wrong was a horrid enough thought on its own, but to see that wrong being able to affect the youth in the cell always had him contemplating it into mania.
But embarrassingly, in the direst time of need for him, Luna was a solace. Her existence was a dry splash into the heaven of lies he’d laid himself across, unknowing to the bed of nails under his back. And seeing Luna young, seeing her without the unhappiness of the reality that followed them to become children under the war torn between shells of unspeakable curses—it was painful.
He woke up at the same time as always, still groggy but without anyone to direct it to, he simply sighed into his bed. It was still early. At most the only staff awake would be Professor Flitwick with his planned classes, or the ghosts. Who simply didn’t sleep. Regardless, Draco stood up off his bed, ignoring Blaise’s snores and Theo’s little rumbles in his sleep. He took a change of clothes and brushed his teeth, running out of the dungeons. It was easy to go out without any notice, having already been far too familiar with the layout of the entire castle and been a prefect.
He had a little over three more hours to prepare for the morning. He’d take breakfast a little earlier than the others, that wasn’t an issue since some students naturally wished to eat sooner than the others, it really isn’t all that rare. But it is uncommon, so regardless, Draco chose to use the time running around the more recluse part of the grounds, just near enough that he wouldn’t get in trouble for it.
He levitated his book with a simple charm, running about the grounds. It cleared his head, not that he particularly cared for Luna’s comments regarding… whatever spurts, but he did require some way to exert his energy. As possible as it was to feel fatigued after magical uses, Draco was too young to actually cast enough spells for that to happen. Not to mention the added experience to him, it would take too much time to lay out his mind through magic rather than to physical activities.
Running was a start, enough for Draco to work up a sweat and return to the dorm with a slight ache by his gut that felt incredibly refreshing for what it was. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the uncomfortable touch of sweat that slicked back his hair as he saw Theodore already awake. He looked at him and nodded in acknowledgement, going back to organizing his things.
Draco took his shower, following a little routine of allowing Theodore to go next before he would disgracefully wake up Blaise. Now, after the first few days of classes, Draco wouldn’t be particularly opposed to how his schedule was placed. But he dreaded the day, as quickly as it came. It would be the day he wouldn’t be able to simply ignore Potter.
He sighed, weighing on that thought as he carefully tied his tie and fixed Blaise’s blankets. Merlin only knows how often he would forget to do it himself, so Draco struck a deal of alternating on who fixes the room. They never touched Theodore’s side. It was an awkward conversation with how Theodore was almost indignant with the mere thought of someone else other than him taking over his space in a way that he wouldn’t like.
Draco was quick enough to make sure it was resolved. Since regardless, Theodore knew how to take care of his side, and Draco really only needed to make sure Blaise developed some healthier habits that wouldn’t have Theodore and Draco sacking him off to Azkaban with “Dementor-Lovers!” perfume blanched all over him for the consequence of leaving their dorm room to look like it was cluttered.
Draco fixed the bed and made sure Theodore’s tie was taken care of before they left for breakfast and Draco could feel every tick of the clock weighing on him. They entered class early, already waiting on the other students. It was far too early for poor Blaise, already leaning against his desk with Pansy next to him waving to Draco.
Draco opted to have Theodore be his partner for Potions. Though he wouldn’t be very opposed to Crabbe or Goyle with the way they’d been trying so desperately to get his attention lately, with his apathy only becoming more of a motivation to keep doing so, whenever Draco looked at Crabbe, he felt sick.
Seeing people who were supposed to be dead was completely different than seeing the ghosts or paintings around Hogwarts. It was sickening. Plainly, sickening.
And just as sickening, Potter entered with Weasley by his side. Draco didn’t dare to allow his eyes to stray to him, listening to Theodore talk about his and Luna’s latest particular interest in unicorns. Draco wasn’t particularly interested in magical creatures the same as Theodore or Luna, but thinking of unicorns reminded him of Potter nearly being killed because of one in this same year and he felt sick once again.
He sighed, asking occasional questions to accompany Theodore’s rambling. He never spoke over him, even when he tended to pause and started to speak with his hands instead of his mouth, Draco still paid attention.
Soon enough, Snape interrupted all of them and Draco entirely dreaded this class. He placed his attention behind Snape, just enough to show his attention without having to think of the fact that his godfather was alive and well, sneering at Potter as if he wasn’t deep into the depths of the grave in Draco’s mind.
Draco sighed at Snape’s provocation to Potter, not speaking over it. But compared to before, there was… a change.
“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape looked like he’d smelled something wrong within Potter, his grip over his wand particularly tight.
“Erm… those make up a sleeping potion. A Draught of the Living Death.” Potter looked genuinely befuddled by the question, his eyes straight as he looked at Snape.
“I see the basics have been drilled into that head of yours despite all the fame that’s come to you,” Snape coughed, “But let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
“A goat… sir.”
“I see.” Snape said sharply, “What part of the goat?”
Potter looked uncomfortable now, shifting in place with his feet kicking at the floor as he stammered with no real response.
Snape sneered. “The stomach of the goat, Potter. You cannot simply name an animal and find the ingredient laid within the bounds of its flesh without knowing where you need to place your eyes. It is within ridiculous bounds if you were to assume a general view of Potion making. It requires focus. Exact and particular focus. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Knowing the precise information allows such a particular cure to be vital.”
Potter now looked indignant at that, but not enough to speak out as he stood still with his fingers clutching at the desk. Draco blinked, a trace of something feral in those greens. “Tell me, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”
Potter pursed his lips, hanging his head low before looking at Snape with a fire in his eyes. Granger stood with her hand in the air, and he saw Pansy look particularly fond before a short laughter left her to gossip in a whisper to a tired Blaise.
“It’s… one of them is aconite.” Potter said with as much confidence as he could muster, and Draco stared.
Theodore raised a brow, pushing his shoulder against Draco’s arm. Draco ignored it, watching it all unfold.
“Wrong.” Snape’s voice drawled, “They’re the same plant. They both go by the name of aconite.”
Snape looked at Granger, “Sit down.” He moved to the front of the class, a slight pace in his step at presumably being unable to remove any points from Potter. He looked back at the class, raising a brow. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”
A clutter of quills and parchment bristled over the quickly silenced air with every student understanding enough of Snape’s authority to avoid any attempt of idleness. Draco didn’t particularly mind to hurry, writing in quick strokes to his parchment. He could hear Granger’s almost aggressive note-taking, but he opted to ignore it, his eyes raising to meet his godfather’s before he looked back down and continued with summarizing what Snape had asked of Potter.
The class continued on with little trouble for Draco, barely requiring any of Theodore’s help as he moved smoothly in his own station. He gave Theodore the mortar with the weighed snake fangs, allowing him to crush it into a fine powder while he cut the pungous onions he had Theodore get. He was rather skilled with a knife, and a splash thought of his aunt teaching him how to use a knife and immediately being told off by his father for the ridiculous danger of it coming to him, cutting the onion a tad bit thinner than he needed to.
He sighed, placing the pungous onions to the side to await Theodore’s part. He didn’t need to pay attention to his potion’s book, long having memorized everything in it. Not that he did it for the sake of pride, that was trouble in its worth. He abided by his godfather’s preaching of preciseness in potion making, but it was difficult. He still paid attention to the book when it mattered, but for a simple potion like this, he refused to. It strained his eyes more often than it should.
He weighed some dried nettles and looked over the jar of Flobberworm Mucus, raising his attention to Theodore’s hands outstretched with the powdered snake fangs. He smiled, patting Theodore’s hand and taking it to the cauldron. It was shoddier than what quality Theodore would have made before, but it was a start. Definitely better than the other students who’d crushed it far too little or struggled with the fangs to the point they’d accidentally thrown off a measurement of the ingredients from their rigorous crushing. He instructed Theodore on the temperature for it to be heated to, then added the dried nettles.
Draco added a dash of Flobberworm Mucus, moving to wipe his hands while Theodore stirred it vigorously. He took the moment to look over the other students, some either too confused with the task and rereading the book or struggling with their ingredients. To say the least, Draco and Theodore were a few steps ahead of them already. He looked over the ingredients, making sure to pay attention to the colour and reached for some powdered ginger root.
Theodore backed off, allowing Draco to add it before stirring the mixture together vigorously again. Draco looked at the others again, seeing Granger taking over her partner’s work and frustrated over her potion. Snape walked around, as unhappy as always as he paid particular attention to Potter. Though despite the added pressure, it only seemed to make Potter all the more determined, looking over his book multiple times to get it right.
And on the other Gryffindors… Draco blinked. He looked at Longbottom, adding a few horned slugs to his cauldron as Finnigan reread the book. Draco sighed, watching the boy repeating that same mistake of finding his porcupine quills and not even paying any mind to take the cauldron of the fire. He looked at the knife, thinking of his aunt once again. A slight groan left him, taking his wand out of his holster. He nudged at Theodore, paying attention to Snape’s gaze.
He added some pickled Shrake spines, making Theodore stir it gently before he moved to a spot beside him that wouldn’t allow his little trick to be seen. “Cover me, just for a second.”
Theodore nodded, unquestioning and seemingly engrossed with looking over the state of their potion as his hand moved to his wand on their table. Draco casted a murmur of a spell, making the porcupine quills in Longbottom’s hands to levitate away from his cauldron, catching the attention of his partner and Snape. Draco hid his wand, adding some of the horned slugs he’d stewed to his and Theodore’s cauldron as if both of them were fully paying attention to their own work.
“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled, casting a chant less spell for the porcupine quills to return to Longbottom’s hands. “What do you believe you’re doing? Were you planning to add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”
Longbottom shook like a leaf, the porcupine quills in his hands as heavy as a death sentence while Finnigan cowered behind his book. “Are you daft enough to be unaware of the consequences of that? It would have melted your cauldron and covered you in boils all over your body!”
At that, Longbottom quivered even more, dropping the porcupine quills onto the table as if they were flaming hot. He hung his head low while Finnigan removed the cauldron from the fire silently. Snape turned to Potter, “And Potter.” Potter jolted, “Why hadn’t you stopped him when he tried to make such a mistake? Believe it’ll make you look better if he got it wrong? That’s a point off of Gryffindor.”
Potter looked indignant, but the Weasley was quick to kick him silently, muttering something to him.
Draco ignored the happenings as if he had no part in it, already taken the cauldron off the fire and added the porcupine quills and stirred it five times, clockwise. He allowed Theodore to wave his hand for it and Snape looked over them.
He blinked, and Draco felt the change once again. Theodore allowed their professor to look at the mixture, oblivious to Snape’s wonder. Draco tapped on his wrist in three’s, calming himself. That was odd. Snape had simply praised something of his concoction before moving his attention to Longbottom the last time.
“You...” Snape’s drawl was more confused than the earlier sneer. “What did you add?”
The question made the others in the class pipe up in attention, thinking of it to be yet another mistake and staving off their own worries for their imperfections. Theodore looked worried now, but still standing straight. He wrung his hands on the sleeves of his robes.
“All according to the book, professor.” He answered in Theodore’s stead, apathetic to the height difference of his younger body to the looming form of his godfather.
“You did not read it.”
Draco blinked. “No, I had—”
Snape frowned at his rebuff, shutting him up with a glance as he looked back to their cauldron. Draco continued to tap on his wrist, recalling the entire procedure and comparing it with his memory. The others in the class looked interested, but others had returned to their potions in relief.
Snape raised the container of shrake spines on the table. “You added more.” Snape said, eyes focused on the label of the container. “Excellent work. Ahead of your year. The colour, consistency and smell of your potion is perfect. The preparation of your station is clean, and the ingredients were used correctly.”
Draco blinked, and Theodore looked completely befuddled next to him. He could feel Granger’s stare on him.
“However,” Snape lowered the container. “I must ask why you chose to use the advanced procedure for this potion. Quite literally, ahead of your year.”
“Oh.” Draco breathed.
Snape didn’t receive a response, sighing and walking away. “Remain here after class is finished, Malfoy.”
Theodore looked over the potion closely, and Granger was close behind to walking over and observing it for herself. Draco raised his eyes, meeting Potter’s from his side of the room. A sting rang in his nerves at the way Potter’s eyes reflected his own, as if deeply engrossed at the sight. He looked back to cleaning up the table, ignoring Potter’s existence entirely.
It was clear Theodore had questions, but no intentions to ask of them. As cruel as it may be, Draco ignored it, full well knowing Theodore wouldn’t be able to ask if he didn’t divulge it first. Draco bottled the potion, ignoring Granger. He cleaned up the rest of their table, avoiding Theodore’s eyes by asking him to place the remaining contents of the ingredients they’d taken back while he wiped down the table.
Class ended easily, with most students already finished with their potions and bottled it over to Snape’s desk. Everyone was more than looking forward to leaving, especially with the free time given to first years before the weekend.
Draco shrugged off Blaise’s questioning, convincing them to find Luna. They understood rather easily, with Blaise placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder before leaving with Theodore by his side. Draco sighed, walking to Snape, the lack of the bubble of potions to occupy the silence becoming muted within the vials of potions on his desk.
Draco fidgeted but avoided anything outwardly showing his nervousness. He breathed, “Yes, professor?”
“Malfoy.” Snape’s cadence was slow. He took the bottle that Draco had filled earlier, holding it against the light and tutting softly as he placed it back next to the others’ works. Draco felt a muted abashment enter his skin, feeling ridiculous. He was proud of his accomplishments—prideful even, but to compare himself to feel superior to children? That was a ridiculous, embarrassing endeavour.
“You’ve improved greatly on your potion work.” Snape said.
Draco’s eyes followed to his potion. “Thank you, professor.”
Snape sighed, “Pride is a fault, just as much as failure is, Malfoy.”
Draco jolted at that. He nodded minutely, tapping at his palm. Snape placed a book on the desk, the potions book for the first years. The one he’d forgotten and replaced with his advanced potions book, memorized everything to avoid having to read it ever again.
“You haven’t read it.” Snape stopped Draco from rebutting, “No, you chose to forego its contents entirely.”
Draco averted his eyes, “Yes.”
“Why so?” Snape asked.
“I avoid reading things I’ve already read.” Draco murmured. A part of it was true, though the reason he’d given Snape in his own time was more extensive, he held proof for it. His eyes truly couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t bad now, but he knew how much worse it could truly become.
Snape raised a brow. “Well,” he stood, taking the potion. “You were able to succeed this time. You’ve done well, Draco.”
Draco bit his lip, avoiding the direct sight of his godfather. But truly, he couldn’t avoid the familiar tone of his name from that voice. He breathed, counting silently in his head. He felt a sharp hit at his head, his hand scrambling to rub at the hit.
“But do well to know of your capabilities. If you are able to do this,” He shook the mixture gently, “Then I hope you see yourself taking the jump. You have a talent. But don’t forget yourself. Pride is a slippery slope of its own making.”
Snape dismissed him, and Draco couldn’t have been more eager to leave than then. But he remained, allowing his eyes to meet his godfather’s; staring into the open grave. “Godfather.” That took Snape’s attention. “Your… grudge. Against Potter.”
Snape paused. “I don’t hold a grudge against the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“You don’t.” Draco murmured, “I hope it would become best for you to start acting like it.”
Draco bid his goodbye, walking out of the potions classroom to a round of silence in the halls. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He felt sick. Hopefully he could take the break to sleep in his own bed and chase away some nightmares in the comfort of his sheets. But then again, he needed to make sure he watched over Theodore and Blaise. And… Luna, of course.
His eyes stung in fatigue; fatigue from the last few days, the last few months—Merlin, he’s felt fatigued for years.
“…Malfoy?” Draco’s heart dropped. The voice was quiet, almost a test to his name without the previous resentment that he’d become accustomed to hearing with that voice.
He frowned, pressing every last weakness from his bones. He turned, seeing Potter—Merlin, Potter.
Potter looked bloody happy. He looked downright buzzing with joy seeing him and it made Draco sick. Draco blinked as he took a step back, taking in the way Harry’s hair was shorter, still fluffier and as much of a mess as he could recall it to be. His face was gaunt, his glasses overtaking a majority of his face, resting on his nose. His robes looked to be better sized on him, as if fitted but purposely made a bigger size somehow.
Potter smiled, “Malfoy.” he repeated his name as if it was something special. “I found you.”
Draco blinked. “What?”
“Right, you don’t play childish games.” Potter scoffed, “But I found you. That must count for something.”
Draco narrowed his eyes, already looking for a way out. He pitied the Potter he’d seen crying and calling himself a freak for his magic. He’d pitied and he wanted to care for him. But this, this was different. This was the Potter he’d once known. The Potter that had stood in front of him in these same halls, the Potter that died. He was nearly identical.
And Draco felt his stomach twist in itself. Potter’s hand reached out to him, holding onto his arm. “Malfoy…? Er, are you alright?” he paused, “You were right… I really am a wizard, and… and…”
Draco frowned, moving his arm away. He bit at his lip, swallowing whatever biting words were threatening to escape his throat. “Please avoid that.”
“0h.” Potter breathed, he shifted in place, his eyes straying to the hallway he’d come from. “I just thought…”
Draco averted his gaze. A few steps rumbled down the hall, and Blaise’s hand clasped at his shoulder. Draco scowled, but relented, waiting for a moment for Blaise to calm himself. “Draco, Merlin—could you stop Theodore and Luna from their idea? It’s absolute bonkers, I swear.”
Draco sighed, pushing Blaise to where he’d come from, efficiently ignoring Potter. “Where are they?”
“You know that unicorn-craze they’ve got going on? They want to go into the bloody fo–” Draco pinched Blaise’s side, the bloody loudmouth, hissing at him.
“Merlin, just tell me where they are.”
Blaise gave a pout, leading Draco to where Luna and Theodore were. Draco didn’t allow himself to look back, aside from a sidelong glance that showed Potter frozen standing on his own, a trace of red hair rushing to him.
Sure enough, Luna and Theodore crowded themselves over a book of magical creatures in the corner of one of the shelves, discussing in low voices. Draco caught the words ‘Forbidden Forest’ muttered between them and he felt a headache return. He sighed, “What is this?”
He picked up the book sprawled out between them. Information about unicorns was the first to catch his attention. His head ached in memory of that fallen unicorn, drained of its blood. He sighed, unrelenting on handing the book back. He shut it closed, raising a haughty brow.
“What was your plan?” Draco asked.
“The Forbidden Forest has a few unicorns inhabiting it...” Theodore started, looking down.
“We’ve been thinking of it lately… and since a few of them are in the Forbidden Forest, we think it’s possible for us to find a unicorn young enough to let us observe it. Up close, wouldn’t you think so?” Luna answered, unfazed by Draco’s sharp gaze.
Draco glared at Blaise, blatantly placing some of the blame to him. Blaise quickly raised his hands in defense. “Oi—I wasn’t encouraging it!”
“You thought of this as a good idea, because?” Draco tilted his head, returning the book to a shelf.
“Why not?” Luna’s voice was void of any mocking, simple wonder in her tone just speaking of how much she didn’t mind the thought of the Forbidden Forest.
“You’re going to get caught. Filch’s bloody cat is a shrieking nutter.”
Luna smiled almost conspiratorially, and Draco felt the bad feeling enter him before he could even speak. “That’s what we were planning to rely on you for.” Theodore nodded to Luna’s words, looking at Draco expectantly.
“Bloody hell.” Draco groaned, pressing his palm to his face. A deep, tired sigh left him. Any plans of relaxing himself and sleeping in were quickly rid of. He looked at Theodore, and he could quickly tell that the boy already had a conclusive plan in his head, along with a contingency plan in case he would refuse. He crouched down with his knees bent disgracefully into a squat, hanging his head low. He breathed, bringing his hands together to a silent prayer.
“Alright.” If he wouldn’t help them, they’d figure it out on their own and possibly hurt themselves. At least with Draco, he had a rough idea of how to get around and keep them out of trouble. He could hear Theodore and Luna’s excited discussion of the unicorns, and Draco could already feel himself regretting it.
Draco stood up, fixing his appearance with a quick sweep over his robes and a gentle detangling hand through his hair. He looked at them, his eyes heavy with a warning. “I’ll help you,” he paused, “But. You need to listen to me well and follow a plan. The Forbidden Forest is dangerous. There is a bloody damn good reason why the staff tell us to stay away from there.” Draco took a book from the shelf, massaging his temples.
“I need you all to understand the severity of this.” Draco reiterated, taking a quill from his robes. He took a piece of parchment from Theodore. “I know that you already have some plan for this, Nott.”
He unfurled the scratch of Theodore’s printed handwriting over a table, quickly omitting some aspects that wouldn’t be entirely possible with the layout of the castle and rewriting parts that would allow an easier passage. “There is a secret passage through one of the walls a few hallway turns from the Gryffindor common room. It is some way past to escape there without alerting Filch or Filch’s cat.”
“We can’t leave through the dungeons?” Theodore frowned, looking over his plan.
“It’s feasible. However, the layout of the dungeons is a lot trickier than the Gryffindor’s wing. The hidden passages there are so convoluted that it looks like a mess.” Draco sighed, shaking his head. “Salazar was rather thorough with making sure it’s almost akin to a maze. Some paranoia on his part, always was the overthinking man.”
“Why are you only planning on the hidden passages?” Blaise interrupted.
Draco rolled his eyes as if it was obvious. “The normal hallways would make us easy pickings for Filch, especially with the third-floor corridor being barred.” Luna said. “Filch has been much firmer on it; we’d get caught quickly.”
Draco nodded, finalizing their plan on paper. He rolled it up, pushing it to Theodore’s hands. Theodore nodded in understanding, walking off to find some other books. “I’m serious about having to stick to this.”
“Of course,” Luna smiled, “Is the passage through the tower able to give us a few moments outside?”
They all made themselves comfortable on a table far from the others in the library. It was still their break, regardless, and all be damned if Draco wasn’t able to catch on some rest before something as ridiculous as what plan he was concocting was. Draco raised a brow, rifling through information on the creatures in the forest in a book he’s snatched from the shelf, Blaise sat next to him nearly falling asleep on the table. He’d have to come with them. It was only natural.
“Yes, it leads outside.” Draco nodded, looking back to his book.
“Great!” Luna took a book, “It’s been difficult to see the moon from my room lately, you see. It’s a shame to be missing the sight of a mooncalf.”
“Mooncalf.” Draco repeated, lowering his book slightly.
“Yes, it’s a rather shy creature. It dances in circles under the moonlight. I’ve been looking forward to seeing it from my room, but it seems the clouds have found themselves a different master with the season’s change.”
Draco scoffed, “Of course. A calf that dances in the moonlight.”
“Under the moonlight. And it dances in circles. Dancing with no direction simply takes it away from its enjoyment.” Luna corrected and Draco felt a fond feeling rise to his chest as he shook his head disbelievingly. It felt like being back. Bittersweet, just like the toothy grin she’d given him all the times before.
Theodore returned with a few more books, taking Luna’s attention as they discussed in further detail about the possibilities of what the unicorn would feel like personally under their hands. Both held knowledge of recounted experiences with unicorns in books, but still disbelieving until they’d experience it themselves. Draco looked at them surreptitiously as they debated. Perhaps it’s what made them close so quickly. Luna’s nature of wanting—seeking such experiences for herself and Theodore’s eager need for satiating his interests and sharing it.
Draco hoped that a chance like this would remain.
A huff left Draco’s lungs, reaching his hand over the wall where he’d distinctly remembered it to be. Luna had followed them out of the Great Hall, excusing herself to sleep earlier. Draco taught her a spell to fake a scene where she looked to still be in bed, despite her assurances that it wouldn’t be required as no one would be particularly inclined to check if she was there.
Draco released a rat that Niklaus had caught in the opposite wing, giving them enough time for Filch’s cat to be distracted and Filch to be more preoccupied with the students within the Great Hall to pay attention to their snooping. Draco found the brick tile, kicking down near his feet on another and punching the one he’d first found before the passage opened for them. Truly, a barbaric Gryffindor way.
He allowed Blaise, Luna and Theodore to enter first. They would cast a small Lumos once all of them had entered, and Draco waited for Blaise to enter before taking a sweep of the hallway. He paused, frowning at the sight of Potter spotting him as well.
Draco shut the passage closed with a wave of his wand and a murmured spell, hiding it away as if it was never there. Potter marched right up to him, “Malfoy.”
Draco sighed, wanting to dig at his skull. “Potter.” He looked at Potter’s visage, watched the intricacies of a young boy hesitating with a shake to his stance. Seeing Potter in his Gryffindor robes made him sick. Calling him by his name, hearing his own plunged him back into the years of torment, the years of jealousy for all that made Potter, Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived, the surviving orphan, the chosen one. He could see the barrier that had been hastily made from their last interaction, could see the way every version of Potter that he knew of blended together in a child that looked to him as if he was a cryptid.
“Why?” Potter’s voice remained firm—fighting. As if he truly held a handle on everything that kept him together. It was ill-fitting. He stood like he’s stood alone for a thousand years. He was thin, gaunt—clearly without the proper care a special seedling like him required. He stood close, chin raised to meet Draco’s eyes. But the greens were guarded, like a secret garden that Draco no longer held the key to peek into the same way in the forest.
“Why,” Draco raised a brow, the haughty tinge at his muscles almost like a second identity that activated in the presence of Potter’s spirit. “You need to elaborate on something so ridiculously vague, Potter.”
Potter frowned, the tick of his lips like a ticket to depths of Draco’s becoming again. “No—I, you told me. You forgot me.”
“Why would I forget your name, Potter?” Draco’s voice held a venom that he wanted to choke on. “It’s not as if everyone doesn’t prattle and parrot it on and on everyday—The Boy Who Lived. Hardly something to easily forget.”
Potter stood paused, unbelieving. He took Draco’s hand, latching onto him like the only memory he could muster of him was quickly disappearing. “No, no. I’m not, I, you told me.” he stopped Draco from speaking, “Malfoy, you told me I was a wizard. And that, I’m not, I don’t know what that nonsense is, you told me I was special.”
“I have never spoken to you.” Like a pin drop, it brought itself a silence that could be penetrated by the slither of the wind’s weak call. Potter blinked, and as if the last gates to him had closed, so had the mirror of what Draco could see into his eyes. Blank. And Draco felt satisfied. Bloody satiated at the eerie fog that had resurfaced between him and Potter.
Draco could see it in his eyes, could see the way he shifted his weight. Draco wasn’t worth anything to fight for in Potter’s position. They’d met a year ago, and the conflict of being refused of such—truly a failing game of Hide and Seek. And perhaps fortunately for both of them, Draco didn’t play childish games.
“Please refrain from doing that.” Draco said, allowing Potter’s hand to leave his. He looked back to the wall, sighing inwardly at the thought that the others must have heard some of their conversation. “Do you require any more of my time?” Like a muted sentiment, Draco’s voice was level. Detached with a finality.
Potter frowned, the quirk to his lips just wanting to fight Draco on his stance, but his brows showed his resignation. “No.”
Draco nodded, standing patiently while he made sure to look out for Filch’s presence. He sighed, accepting Potter’s complicated stare. As soon as he turned away to leave, Draco left through the passage and closed it. He was met with Blaise’s crossed arms, Luna’s curiosity and Theodore’s confusion.
He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it to a mess. “Look,”
“We’ve got a lot to look for.” Blaise rolled his eyes, tapping at his wand to cast the Lumos spell. “What was that?”
“It was nothing.” Draco grumbled, taking out their plan from his robes. He checked over the passage wall to make sure they didn’t leave any trace.
“It didn't sound like nothing.” Luna hummed, looking to Theodore in agreement. “You lied.”
Draco tapped at his head, running a hand through his hair. It was as much of a mess as his mind now, even falling to his eyes. He muttered as he attempted to fix it back. “I did not—” his lips pursed, “Fine. I lied.” He cursed inwardly, knowing full well of how difficult it was to lie to Luna or Theodore, let alone both of them. Bloody blunt bastards.
“Oh?” Blaise looked to be much more interested now, looking back as he led them through the damp, mossy passageway. The stones were rough at the edges, their steps crackling as they continued on, only becoming more echoed as the stones lowered their path. “Do tell, Malfoy.”
Draco grumbled, “It’s none of your business, Zabini.”
“Rather is. You made us late.”
“Sod off.”
Draco recounted their plans to himself, calculating the possibilities to anyone being in the perimeter by the time they’d get to the exit of the passage. Perhaps Hagrid could spot them, but he doubted the giant would. And at best, they could talk themselves out of being ratted out.
“So…” Blaise drawled when they were deep into the passage. “The Boy-Who-Lived.”
Draco sneered, “I am not even going to warrant that with a response.”
“Oh, must I elaborate on that ridiculous vague statement?” Blaise mimicked Draco’s accent, exaggerating it as he snickered. Luna smiled along, holding a jar in hand while Theodore looked between them in a silent confusion.
“Your mimicry isn’t appreciated, Zabini.” Draco said gruffly, focusing on their path. He observed the stones, looking ahead and preparing his wand to get them out of the passage. He directed them to a turn, turning his head to get a good look around.
He took them to a pause, muttering an opening spell to open the passage. They climbed out into the night with Draco’s increasingly closed-off response to any question in relation to his conversation. They reached the Forbidden Forest without any major incident. Draco had them turn a wrong turn or two, but nothing major enough to have them lost. They neared a lake, sitting in the shrubbery as Luna and Theodore discussed the probability of finding the unicorn.
The night was high in the sky, stars rippled through the blankness of the night as the moon was nearing a new phase, only its waning crescent to be seen in the sky. The rifling sound of the greenery bristled against Draco’s ears, his slacks against the grass as his heart thrummed.
“You’re all sure we really can’t just jump one of them?” Blaise asked briskly, earning a roll of the eyes from Draco as he sat next to the bushes with his arms crossed.
“They’re not very fond of men, not quite all too desiring of their presence.” Luna smiled, patting Theodore’s shoulder as he frowned. She handed him her jar, “But the young ones don’t mind.”
“Regardless, they’re very fast, so attempting to catch one is a useless act. Hurting a unicorn is considered immoral.” Theodore articulated, staring straight at the lake.
Blaise raised a brow, “Doesn’t drinking their blood preserve your life?” he whistled lowly, “There must still be some people out there seeking it for that.”
“No one would do that.” Theodore stated as a matter-of-factly, “You’d be shunned. Even if the effects were to be desired, the repercussions would make even Dark Wizards hesitate.”
Draco scoffed to himself, choosing to keep silent. Luna perked up, excitement dripping in her voice as she pulled on Theodore’s sleeve gently. “There’s one. It’s still quite silver, and it seems its horn hasn’t grown in quite yet. It’s spectacular!”
Draco looked from the bush, seeing a bright silver horse. Well, unicorn. He blinked, watching in muted surprise with Blaise while Theodore nodded to Luna. It was... definitely a sacred creature. Its coat had a beautiful, unruffled sheen to it unlike a horse. It looked unbothered by the mortal plane, bending its neck to drink at the lake as its tail moved.
“Unicorns love purity the most.” Luna said, standing slowly with their presence a small distance away to avoid scaring the creature. Draco froze, his eyes straying at Luna’s words as he looked back at the unicorn awkwardly.
“Unbridled innocence. There’s not a clear criterion about what that’s defined to be for them, but we’ll be fine to touch it as long as we don’t scare it. They’re flight creatures. Particularly quick to flee in fear.” Theodore explained to Draco and Blaise while he allowed Luna to move first. He lowered the jar to a small space near them that wouldn’t allow it to be toppled or lost.
Blaise looked completely amazed, wholly interested whereas Draco was dreading coming here. His mind raced in every definition of purity he could recall in his memory, crunching at his brain for the nuances of what it meant in different cultures. Did unicorns base their definition of purity purely on women? Or on the culture surrounding India or Ancient Greece? Was it leaning towards the definitions Wizards have, or more towards the medieval belief of maidens?
Draco pressed his face into his hands as a flush started at his neck. Merlin, bloody purity. Why must it have so many nuances for such a simple word? Even with all the definitions, he was a criminal in Azkaban barely a year ago. He didn’t particularly want to scare it away when Theodore and Luna were so excitedly looking forward to seeing them.
Sure enough, the unicorn noticed Luna’s presence. Rather than retreating, it turned its head, huffing gently. It moved closer to Luna, and she took it as permission, walking forward with no malintent. The unicorn huffed, clopping curiously around Luna. It nosed itself into Luna’s hair, earning a soft giggle from the girl as she raised her hand to brush at its coat. She smiled, looking at Theodore.
As if they held a silent communication, Theodore smiled in return, moving slowly to the unicorn. It accepted him after a short huff, nudging its head towards him. Theodore avoided touching the area where its horn was set to grow in, petting it gently as he cooed softly.
Blaise jumped up but softened himself at the reminder of the unicorn’s wariness. He moved even more slowly than both of them, but even more animated with his excitement. After a few huffs, the unicorn observed him and allowed him to touch its head. He proceeded gently, softly humming in another language.
Luna smiled at Draco, and Draco wanted nothing more to keep away. He shifted his weight in place, simply staring. Theodore noticed, nodding for him to join them. He pursed his lips, keeping himself in place to let them go on.
The unicorn tilted its head, looking at Draco. It paused from Blaise’s attention, moving to Draco’s direction. The clop of its hooves echoed like a clank of chains to Draco’s ears, taking a step back as he felt his back grow cold. He stayed in place, closing his eyes before a snout sniffed at his hair. He frowned, watching as the unicorn pranced around him, lowering its head when it circled by him again.
He looked to the others, seeing their encouraging gaze. The unicorn huffed, almost impatient as it nudged its head against his robes. With a shaking hand, he lowered his hand to its mane, feeling the touch of what could only really be described as “everything good in the world” came in contact with his skin. He blinked, hand grazing past its ears as it kicked at the dirt. It was soft, incredibly so. And it was so smooth as if it had never touched anything filthy in their world.
It huffed as soon as it had enough, circling the four of them before receiving more of their attention. Luna sang to it, receiving a happy sound from it as it shined against the night of the forest. Draco sighed, listening to them as they basked in the experience. Luna smiled as the unicorn nudged at her, and she nodded, nuzzling her head against its neck as if she truly could understand it. She moved to a small part of the clearing, ridding herself of her shoes. Theodore quickly picked them up, giving her space as she started to dance.
Her laughter was music, the shine of the unicorn becoming the light to her performance as it accompanied her. Theodore smiled standing close to Draco as they watched. Luna held out her hand as she twirled, her feet kicking at the dirt. Her robes fluttered around her, in sync with the turn of the unicorn.
Theodore shook his head gently, but Blaise grinned, taking Luna’s hand in his as he allowed her to lead. He didn’t take off his shoes, but he placed his attention on Luna’s movements. He followed it, placing her to be the priority of the dance, becoming a simple kindred spirit as they both laughed into the darkness of the night.
Theodore held her shoes close, looking fond at both of them. Draco hummed to Luna’s singing, the spirit in her voice pausing with each turn still remaining invigorated as the unicorn enjoyed their performance. She sang in a language that Draco could vaguely recall, the sound of her steps accompanied with the timbre of Blaise’s becoming the accompaniment to her voice as they smiled.
A howl of the wind rushed past their merriment, their steps muting as the unicorn spooked. It huddled in place, neighing as it rushed past them in fear, hitting Luna as she landed her feet, twisting her fall to the forest ground. Draco rushed to her side as Blaise knelt down.
Luna groaned, attempting to sit up as she winced. Draco surveyed her, frowning at the way her ankle twisted. “Your foot is hurt.”
Luna raised her palm in a small wave, “No harm done. It was just spooked.”
“You’re injured, Lovegood. We’re going back.” Draco ground out, bending his knee to pick up Luna in a bridal carry. Blaise neared them in worry, practically fretting.
“It’s alright, really!” Luna assured them despite already being in Draco’s carry. “I still have to fill my jar.”
Draco sighed, tilting his head to Theodore. “Nott can fill it for you.” he carried her to a part of the clearing to sit against a boulder for now.
Theodore nodded, handing Blaise Luna’s shoes while he took the jar. “You only need the lake water, right, Lovegood?”
“Yes, I would appreciate it. It’s really been difficult to place out my water for the moon lately.”
Theodore carefully filled it, closing it tightly to avoid spilling it. A few clops of hooves caught their attention just as Theodore closed it, their eyes following to the trees.
Centaurs looked back to them with their bows drawn. They looked at them in suspicion, their stances guarded. Theodore backed away, holding the jar close as Blaise nervously put away Luna’s shoes in one of his robe pockets. Draco bent down to pick up Luna, ready to run if ever the need arose.
“Had that been any of you?” One of the centaurs spoke.
After a bated breath, “The howl of wind hadn’t come from any of us.” Luna spoke gently, placating. Draco tightened his hold on her, checking over her to make sure he wouldn’t drop her.
“Students are forbidden from this forest.” The centaur said, pulling their bows down. “Leave.”
Draco swallowed, holding Luna close as he made sure Theodore and Blaise followed him. He nodded in thanks, walking briskly out of the clearing. They found their way back outside of the forest, the night becoming much more silent with the castle asleep.
They used the passage to go back, taking their time to make sure they wouldn’t be caught. Theodore and Blaise returned to the dungeons first, and Draco maneuvered his way through the castle, humming in response to Luna’s whispered discussion of how the unicorn felt. She held her jar close, her shoes in Draco’s robe pockets as Draco ducked down to another secret passage, rifling through the directions in his head as he turned to the Ravenclaw Tower.
Draco sighed at the sight of the spiral staircase to the Ravenclaw dorms. He squared his shoulders, correcting his hold of Luna, and preparing himself before taking the first few steps.
“I can try healing myself.” Luna said.
“Your ankle is sprained.” Draco sneered, “That’s dangerous. Get it checked with Madam Pomfrey tomorrow.”
Luna nodded, “Thank you, Draco.” she leaned into his chest, closing her eyes with a sigh. “It’s like having a friend.”
Draco remained silent, reaching to the top of the stairs as Luna started to drift off. He answered the riddle of the eagle, sighing as the door opened. “I am your friend, Luna.” he muttered, taking a few moments before waking her to get her to go inside.
Draco left the tower, passing through multiple passages and halls before slipping into the dungeons. He closed the door, locking it as he leaned against it. Blaise was already asleep, clearly exhausted whereas Theodore sat straight on his bed.
“Lovegood is alright.” Draco said, taking some of his clothes and walking to their bathroom to draw himself a quick shower to change.
Hopefully, the weekend would suffice as rest for all of this.