Chapter 7
Nearly a week had passed since then. Draco had received his well-deserved rest, and he didn’t quite mind every little sensation as usual—though it could really just stand to be the reason for Draco to simply just be called less of a grouch than usual. He was quieter, less snippy and overall, ridiculously more open to actually looking Luna’s way rather than avoiding her gaze when she would come around to spend time with Blaise and Theodore. He’d given her the jar and shoes he had to take back to the dorm with him that night, since she wasn’t in the exact state to hold all of that with a limping foot.
Luna was able to get herself checked by Madame Pomfrey, so there was no real injury to be left behind. She was back to chattering with Theodore in no time. They lounged in a part of the library that somewhat became a place for their little escapades. Luna sat next to Draco while Blaise and Theodore entertained themselves with what seemed to be the nth round of Wizarding Chess. Theodore was losing every round so far and Blaise was only more and more smug as he won by each round.
Draco scoffed at the sight, watching the way Blaise would roll one of the pieces he’d taken from Theodore’s side, increasingly going faster with rolling it before sighing in relief when he’d win. Every smug declaration of his expertise was met with Theodore’s suggestion for another round and yet another round of Blaise anxiously achieving his win.
Honestly, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration for Draco to say that Blaise was the best player when it came to Wizarding Chess that he’d ever seen. Only issue was, Theodore would get absolutely hooked on these things. Especially if he lost or failed but still remained able to accurately take in where he’d gone wrong and grow better by every round. Consequently, Blaise had to match his own bark, having to come up with more ingenious ways to best Theodore as he would get progressively better. And perhaps that was why Blaise had become so good at Wizarding Chess. Not all that hard to strive to be better against an opponent that quite literally gets even more difficult by every round.
Theodore was good, his strategies becoming more intricate with more rounds passing. But Blaise always had a way to one-up all of them with that uncannily memorable brain of his. The damn bastard would remember anything even if Draco were to obliviate it out of him with force. Theodore would focus too much on his strategy, and Blaise would already be backtracking all of his moves to guess a good pattern and beat him.
Blaise won again with another checkmate, and Theodore wilted in his seat. “I win!” Blaise said, as if he didn’t look eternally relieved. “See, dear Nott, you should think twice before challenging a master within the craft, it is simply a ridiculous notion to believe that any further challenge could—”
“One more round.” Theodore ignored Blaise’s rambling, already fixing the pieces back in place.
Now, it was Blaise's turn to wilt in his seat. Luna giggled behind her book, moving her attention from their game to Draco next to her. “Blaise has no trouble proceeding with that act, doesn’t he?”
“No. He’s too much of a pompous prick.” Draco smirked, exchanging some of his notes from the previous day’s astronomy class to Luna’s side. He’s allowed the distance between him and Luna to be less strained, even enjoying her discussion of the constellations they were lucky enough to witness in the last class.
“Malfoy, you git, I hear you and I am more than willing to give you a proper knocking into tomorrow if you keep talking.” Blaise cursed as Theodore ignored the pair, moving in to place Blaise in a check. “ Questo è ridiculous!“
Draco shrugged off Blaise’s threat, humming underneath his breath. Luna passed the notes back and Draco looked over her scribbles, smiling slightly at the small doodle she’d made of a fuming Blaise with a sort of ‘>:(’ expression. Draco flicked the tip of his pencil three times, pressing it against the paper to check for its stroke before taking the moment of Theodore and Blaise’s game to draw a simple sketch of an apathetic Theodore looking at Luna’s doodle of the fuming Blaise.
He honestly preferred painting more than sketching, but he made do. Going over the added notes Luna had written with him. He looked through them before passing the parchment back. An evident smile bloomed on her face just as Blaise finally managed to checkmate Theodore. Theodore’s face didn’t show any of his reaction to it, other than a small downward tick to his lips and a lean back to his seat.
Theodore sighed, looking resigned as he shook Blaise’s hand. Theodore cleaned up the pieces as Blaise sat back next to Draco with a sigh, crossing his arms across his chest with no doubt a number of thoughts running through his head to remember all of Theodore’s moves so he could improve on the skill.
Seeing it, Draco sighed. He could recall Blaise’s proficiency in Wizarding Chess in the previous years that he attended Hogwarts, but Theodore’s capabilities were more inconspicuous in contrast. He’d lost multiple times to the boy, after all. And… well, Draco may not be the best with the game, he wasn’t exactly half-bad either. But oddly, Theodore had brushed off his praise, stating simply that he wasn’t good at the game. Draco gave a look to Blaise, already pinpointing to a guess as to why Theodore deemed his skill in the game to be short of best.
Draco placed his book down, rubbing a hand on his temple. It has been getting more difficult to read lately. Not that he was very particularly inclined to feel anything against it. He was used to it, it was a miracle in itself for him to read so well now and he wasn’t against taking advantage of the time he had to read properly. Regardless, it was a trying handicap. He had been doing fine in his classes so far, but he could guess the eventuality of his grades falling. If not for the pressure of life and death looming over his throat and the trembling threads of his loved ones’ lives in his hands, then his inability to read must absolutely be able to affect it.
Eyes falling to a close, a sigh fell through his lips as he lounged his head against the head of his seat, running a hand through his hair. He looked over to the clock, fingers pressing over the spine of his book. He’d have to return to class soon, and a grimace appeared on his lips. It was time for their first flying lesson and Draco abhorred the mere thought of it. He’d weighed over his actions for the last year and it still remained as difficult as the first time he’d attempted to think over what the impact of his actions could do to Potter.
He couldn’t afford his adoration, the adoration of a sweet boy who sought the first sign of escape from what Draco could only conclude to be a neglectful or at least unloving place. Muggles . Draco thought to himself with a sneer. How could they ever allow the Boy Who Lived to live with Muggles. The damned kind, the kind that would allow Potter’s choice of words to be demeaning to himself. Merlin, who could ever allow a boy so damn willing and kind to sacrifice himself to be with such people?
It would be a lie to say that Draco hadn’t attempted to look into Potter’s living situation, failing to do so because of the wards that could only really be placed by Dumbledore himself. And he was worried. Despite the entirety of the Wizarding World deeming his upbringing to be one of luxury and well-deserved love for the sacrifice of his parents and the vanquishing of the evil they’d all been haunted by, inundated by the loss and anguish of the war. He’d once thought the same, thinking of every one of Potter’s regular behaviour to be a personal attack of what Draco deemed to be standard etiquette. Which was ridiculous because Potter’s actions were simply because he didn’t know shit about what Draco was even taking offense to. It would be accurate to say that Draco was making a molehill out of nothing and it needlessly embarrassed him to remember.
He climbed a damn tree for Potter to notice him. He was even worse than any of those ridiculous fan clubs, constantly seeking Potter’s attention like a small schoolboy hoping for the teacher’s attention by acting as disruptive as possible. There was hatred, absolutely. He hated Potter for being given everything—he hated Potter for the fact that his life was given the assurance of being so accomplished of something great. He couldn’t fail. Not when his mere birth equated to the celebration of light itself, not when even his own death could serve to be greatness in itself. And Draco despised it, he was deeply entrenched within jealousy of what he was afraid he’d never be able to have.
Draco leaned back against his seat, pushed by Blaise’s zealous discussion with Theodore. He looked around for a moment, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest when he saw Luna just a few shelves away rifling through books. He inwardly thought of Potter, remembering the frantic eyes looking over him in one of the worst moments in his life.
Laughably, that moment was something Draco treasured despite the fact he could feel his own chest ripping into itself. He could still feel the way it stung and as his hand crossed over his torso, it was as if he could still feel the line of the scars mangling his body. That moment was pain to an unfathomable degree. Potter’s frantic apologies over how he didn’t mean it and how he didn’t know the spell would do that was like a trickle of honey in his desperation. All of Potter’s attention was placed on him, both their mistakes and their faults amalgamating itself into the cuts on his body.
But regardless, Draco could not afford Potter’s pity. He could not afford Potter’s apologies. He couldn’t afford the precious tears dribbling down like a merciless waterfall on the boy’s face. Draco was a poor, sodding coward. A coward that wanted too much and couldn’t hold enough. And Potter was a stream of life that burned him to even touch. Like a sinner in a church. Even if he paid penance, he couldn’t afford the hatred anymore. So, he lied; ran like a coward once again.
He opened his book once again, having rested his eyes and his thoughts enough. Luna returned to his side with a new book, no doubt with the plan to borrow it as she kept it close and waited for the time to pass.
“Draco,” Luna started, voice almost questioning with the way her cadence was elongated.
Draco hummed, frowning as he put the book a little further away to read better. When he got it at a good enough distance to read the letters, he quit squinting his eyes to read properly.
Luna pushed the book a bit closer to him, making the text return to being blurry. He frowned, looking at Luna with a disapproving glance before pushing the book back to its original position. As if his glance was unnoticed, Luna pushed the book back again and made the text return to being blurry.
He sighed just a bit more loudly than he’d intended. “Lovegood.”
“Do you need glasses, Draco?” Luna’s question made Draco scowl. He looked at her, unbelieving.
“No.” he sighed, feeling another headache thrum through his head as he closed the book. “I can see perfectly fine. I’m not a clumsy prat like Potter.” He grimaced at the jab at Potter, not quite having meant to say it other than habit.
“What’s that about Potter?” Blaise, ever the attentive git (only when it came to matters that didn’t concern him), butted in with a grin playing at his face.
Draco sneered, not even bothering to give it a proper answer. “Luna thinks I require… glasses.” he paused at the word, not even wanting to entertain the idea of it. His godfather had once subtly suggested it and Draco despised to even be told something as ridiculous as needing glasses that he handed in most of his Potion work to be empty flasks for a week.
“Well, chances are, you very much might.” Luna said. Her smile did nothing to splash Draco’s irritation.
“I can see things just fine!” Draco’s insistence met with a darker tone from his throat, “I don’t need to squint my eyes to see things.”
Theodore looked to him in the silence that followed, “Draco, you often struggle to read.”
“I can read , Nott.” Draco sneered.
“Myopia isn’t the only requirement for spectacles.” Theodore pointed to the book in Draco’s hands. “Dyslexia could be a reason for your difficulty in reading, but I have seen you read without trouble in the mornings. Albeit with the book sitting on the desk as if it were a lamp with a distance away.”
Draco rolled his eyes “So, I place my book a bit further away, is that a crime?”
“You press your hands against your temple often and you have to take breaks because of the strain of your eyes. You do this frequently in between reading. You’ve followed very similar symptoms to hyperopia.” Theodore’s voice was level and the delivery of such only served to irritate Draco. He could guess the concern laced in his words, but he couldn’t care less.
“What’s that?” Blaise asked.
“Myopia is near-sightedness. As is what Potter presumably has. And hyperopia is the opposite, being far-sightedness.” Theodore said, focusing back on Draco. “You have hyperopia.”
“Could you all sod off?!” Draco slammed his book on the table, standing up with a scowl. “I don’t require glasses and I don’t have hyperopia, Nott. Don’t bloody diagnose me with something ridiculous.” Draco’s voice was mean and he could tell by the way Theodore started to fiddle with his robe sleeves that he’d touched a nerve with his outburst. Regardless, he steeled himself. He was used to being met with the reaction whenever he acted that way. He left with a sneer, ignoring anything else.
He ignored Blaise’s call for him to return, walking through the halls. He didn’t give any bother to other people, cursing inwardly at the mere suggestion that he would need glasses the same as Potter. His sight was perfect , for Merlin’s sake! His parents’ sight was perfect as well, he wouldn’t need something so… so stupid.
Draco remained alone until the time came for the flying lessons. He stood next to Blaise despite his refusal to talk anything further than a small greeting. Luckily, Blaise had enough sense to leave him be, pulling Theodore away when he attempted to speak further about it. Luna was in another class, so even less people to crowd over Draco’s state was just another trifling piece of luck.
The day was as clear as he could remember, a small breeze just warm enough that it wouldn’t contrast harshly against the incoming cold months. He felt immature. But a glance to Potter only made him more avoidant to speaking, standing in line as the rest of the Gryffindors (late as ever) trickled into their respective school brooms. Draco sighed, easily taking his broom in hand without even as much of a mutter. He played Quidditch and experienced having to call for his broom far too many times already, so he hardly required a command to call for one now.
Blaise managed after a few tries and Theodore managed at the first try like him. Madam Hooch allowed them to mount their brooms. Draco paid special attention to the way he gripped his broom despite it already becoming second nature. Madam Hooch’s chide of how he’d been doing it incorrectly his entire life was a shame that still permeated him in the deepest of nights at times. Just a simple one of those embarrassments that never quite leave you, especially when you’re thinking late at night.
“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard.” Madam Hooch instructed. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle…”
Before Madam Hooch could finish her count, the class watched in surprise as Longbottom shot up into the air with his broom uncontrollably, all too shocked to move or even speak. Longbottom was absolutely terrified, falling out of his broom and onto the roof, slipping down onto the cold, hard grass with a painful slam.
Madam Hooch was quick to rush to him, clicking her tongue when she looked over him for injuries. She cooed helpfully, taking Longbottom by his shoulder and holding his wrist pityingly. “Broken wrist.” She muttered, “Come on, boy. It’s alright, up you get.”
Draco grimaced at the sight of Longbottom near tears, barely keeping his sniffles with a small bump on his head indicating his fall. Madam Hooch turned to them to warn them to leave their brooms while she escorted Longbottom to the hospital wing. Longbottom hobbled off, a few sobs now escaping him as Madam Hooch supported him off.
Now, really. Who could expect a class of eleven-year-olds to behave themselves with brooms in hand? Soon enough, a Slytherin student started making fun of Longbottom’s fall, laughing eagerly as they described the way Longbottom had fallen. Draco held his face in hand, a burning flush travelling up to the tips of his ears. Had he sounded like that?
Parvati defended Longbottom, but at least no one made fun of her in return. “Look! It’s that thing that Longbottom’s gran gave him!” Pansy’s voice interrupted his embarrassment, laughs spreading among the students as Parvati frowned, moving to Pansy.
“Give it back!” Parvati reached to take the item, but Pansy was quicker, giggling as she threw it in Draco's direction. Draco caught it on instinct, frowning at the Remembrall in his hand.
He sighed, flipping it upside in the air as it shined. “Give that here, Malfoy.” he raised a brow, looking at Potter. He could see the complication in his eyes, but they stared at him in resolution. He frowned, but it wasn’t harsh. No, he was simply getting something back for his friend, nothing of the accusatory tone that Draco could remember.
Draco tilted his head, holding the Remembrall tight. “Why?”
“It’s Neville’s. It isn’t yours.” Potter said as a matter-of-factly.
Draco’s eyes caught at the way the light shined on Potter’s glasses. He threw the Remembrall to Blaise, “Longbottom can find it on his own.”
Blaise raised a brow at the exchange, but he paid more attention to the way the item shined in the light. He wow-ed slightly, laughing. “Isn’t this a Remembrall? I’ve been meaning to get one of these.” He held it tight, and it glowed red. “Ah. I forgot something. Draco, did I forget something?”
“Return it, you git!” The Weasel—Weasley demanded, reaching to grab it from Blaise. Blaise stuck out his tongue, indicating his refusal. It only served to irate Weasley, tackling him. Blaise grunted as Weasley pushed him onto the ground with a groan from both parties.
Blaise pushed at Weasley, holding his arm away as he threw the Remembrall to Theodore who caught it with a slight difficulty. Theodore avoided Potter’s approach, calling for his broom with a mutter and mounting it into the air. He threw the Remembrall to Draco.
“Malfoy! Give it back!” Potter now yelled, much less inclined to hesitate with the way Draco and his friends had treated his own friend’s belongings.
Draco sighed. He didn’t want to give it back to Potter, that was just too… he grimaced at the mere thought. When did direct kindness become so difficult to stomach? He raised it high in the air, looking down at a fuming Harry Potter. He attempted to reach for it, but Draco’s height advantage allowed him to raise it in the air too far for Potter to reach.
Draco smiled forcibly, so slight it was barely there. “Get it yourself, Potter.” he threw it to Theodore.
Theodore caught the Remembrall with a reach from his broom, tilting his head to question Draco. Draco shrugged, knowing that Theodore wouldn’t be able to outfly Potter. Theodore wasn’t bad at flying, but no one could really best the “Youngest Seeker in the Century” . He expected that to be over with. Theodore wouldn’t make an attempt at flying away with it, and he’d just give it back.
Potter looked at him indignantly, stepping on his shoe and picking up Draco’s broom before mounting it to get to Theodore. The wind breezed through his unruly locks, a gust of wind running through Draco as he blasted off into the air. Theodore looked to Draco again, but with no real response, he threw the Remembrall. He threw the bloody Remembrall.
Bearing witness to Potter’s flying prowess, the class remained silent as Potter sped off like a speeding bullet, a complete natural through the air. He was like a bird taking flight with its feathers grown in, his existence belonging to the skies, his cheeks flushed with a soft pink to show how the wind loved him.
With what could only be the nth sigh of the day, Draco looked at Theodore. He raised his index finger in front of him, bending it towards his torso. Theodore’s lips curved down, flying down next to him with a small jolt. He looked at him disapprovingly as Theodore looked completely befuddled, dropping his broom.
“Why did you throw it?” Draco asked, ignoring his petty irritation earlier.
“I thought… since you threw it at me and you told Potter to get it himself, I should throw it.” Theodore said.
Draco sighed, “You didn’t need to.” he looked at Theodore’s genuine confusion, “It’s alright. I should’ve been clearer.”
Theodore fiddled with his sleeves as the class cheered for Potter catching the Remembrall at the nick of time. “And., I felt bad.”
“What?”
“Luna told me that I was too… much.” Theodore continued with his fiddling, “I know it’s not appreciated—when I act like that. I just didn’t realise that I’d stepped out of line.”
Their conversation came to a halt when Professor McGonagall started running towards their class, a reverberating yell catching their attention. She ran to Potter, her fury clear as her voice shook. “Never, in all my time at Hogwarts!” She paused, looking over Potter in worry behind her glasses, “How dare you—you might have broken your neck!”
The class was quick to come to Potter’s defence, “But professor, Zabini, he—”
“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me. Now.” Professor McGonagall took Potter away, his wracking anxiety apparent despite the haste he took to so he could catch up to Professor McGonagall’s hurried trot.
Draco fought back a grimace as Blaise hid behind him, the Weasel- Weasley , yes. Weasley—was running to him with a fury in his eyes unbefitting the cherubic features. His freckles were scattered over his skin, cheeks a flush of pink from running and having tousled Blaise onto the grass just moments ago.
“You slimy, Slytherin git!” Blaise grinned with no remorse to speak of childishly, still hidden behind Draco. Grass marred his originally proper and tidy, his eyes gleaming.
“Easy there, Weasley. You might end up tumbling over the whole lot of us while you're at it.” Blaise said, enrapturing Weasley’s reckless irritation. Weasley stood his ground, stubbornly stomping his foot.
“You’re a daft git, Zabini. I reckon you’re tasting the dirt proper now, aren’t you? You lot in Slytherin are so full of yourselves, it’s a wonder you haven’t exploded—” Weasley groaned, “If Harry ends up taking the rap for your dumb little thieving, I’ll personally shovel you and make you chow down on every last blade of grass here.”
Blaise was just about to retort when Draco pushed him out from behind him, allowing him to squabble with the redhead on his own. Draco didn’t particularly care for whatever Weasley was complaining about. The last time, he’d been the first to jab at him while Potter was dragged off by the professor. At least this time he didn’t have to be the one on the receiving end of it.
Draco took Theodore to a small distance away where they wouldn’t be easily heard, just enough that a conversation wouldn’t be interrupted by the animosity between Blaise and Weasley as their exchange started to go deeper, Weasley’s reckless need for defending his friend and his crass wording enabling Blaise’s impatience when Weasley would intercept his retort. Truly a burning fire to watch that Draco didn’t want to witness.
“Listen, Nott. I'm not cross with you.” Draco sighed, “I understand you were concerned and scurrying off like that must have left a bitter taste. It's just that... the prospect of needing glasses is a rather sensitive topic for me. It could be pride, for hell I bloody know. I'm aware of my vision problem—I am aware that I have hyperopia.” He stopped Theodore, “Yes, before you told me. But I dislike the idea of acknowledging that there's something inherently... wrong . With me.”
Draco scowled as he remembered his godfather’s assessment of his eyes. It was a ridiculously petty thing. He could acknowledge that much. It was a miniscule thing that most people would simply acknowledge, better with and move on with. Draco didn’t like it. Plainly so. He was embarrassed of it, and it only made it more embarrassing that his parents had perfect vision in contrast to the strain he’d receive from his own eyes just by reading anything.
“You don’t want to consider helping it?” Theodore asked.
Draco rubbed his nose, embarrassed. “I don’t... find glasses amiable.”
“You could use them only when you’re reading.” Theodore shrugged, “Your eyes haven’t progressed to a point you’d need them constantly. And it’s better to avoid the strain. With your condition, it often worsens and only stabilises by the time you’re an adult.”
Draco laughed at that. He was technically already an adult. Barely, perhaps. He’d left… rather early. But he could see the point. It had gotten worse the longer he left it ignored. Still, Draco was nothing if not stubborn and creative with the things he did. He learned to get around it. Even if he had to try harder than everyone else, that was fine—he could do better than them even if he had to be harsher on himself.
“I’ll look into it.” Draco gave in, tilting his head as Blaise stormed over to them, dirt on his cheek and a sunny array over his crooked robes. He looked to be seething.
“That damned Weasley had the cheek to chuck me back on the grass!” He wiped at his cheek, grimacing at the dirt. “If I end up sick, do either of you fancy suffocating him in his sleep for me?”
“Playing in the dirt doesn’t make you sick.” Theodore stepped back when Blaise attempted to spread the dirt over to him. He scowled. “I will smother you in your sleep if you try to smear that on me.”
“Priss.” Blaise took a handkerchief from Draco, wiping it all away. “You just never know. A lot of things make people sick at this time of the year. Haven’t you ever seen a kid keel over to a fever after taking a roll in the dirt?”
“The dirt isn’t going to miraculously inflict you with a fever. But you could try seeing Madam Hooch miraculously deduct some house points from you if you fancy. You look like a mess.” Draco snarked, already untying Blaise’s tie to fix his collar. He’d somehow become the person to make sure the two didn’t leave like they’d just rolled on the floor all day. He could discern the slightest bit of untidiness and call it habit but even if Draco took advantage of his prefect position to mess with Potter, he still took it seriously.
“How lovely that at least someone here gives a toss about me.” Blaise said sarcastically, allowing Draco to fix his tie and flatten out his robes.
“I find the matter of your health to be important. I just think the matter of deliberating over the state of what goes through your head fell over a well somewhere.” Theodore grimaced, smoothly ignoring Blaise’s shock as he put away his broom.
“You think I’m daft?”
“I think you’re dramatic.” Theodore clarified, but it did nothing to placate Blaise. Blaise huffed, putting away his own broom. The rest of the class filtered out when Madam Hooch returned from escorting Longbottom to the hospital wing. Classes were over for the day, and Draco would rather be damned than stay for any longer when the Gryffindor students were looking at them with indignant glances. Not that he wasn’t used to it, but it was still something he didn’t want to subject himself to given the choice.
They made their way around the halls, intending to find Luna at her last class of Herbology for the day. Her, the other Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students already finished their flying lesson the day before. Draco yawned, passing through halls. Chatter whispered through them, like a familiar tune that Draco couldn’t help but shiver to. He followed Blaise’s directions, mindlessly looking at the paintings they passed.
Blaise paused, almost deliberately. He turned his head, looking around. “I think I took a wrong turn...”
Draco looked around, shrugging when he identified one of the empty paintings. “We’re not lost. Just turn to that hallway.” he motioned over to the right, cracked bricks meeting his direction. He paused, moving over to the blank wall. Not even a painting or a candle to decorate it. He pushed at the wall, nearly toppling over when it slammed down with barely any force from his push.
He rubbed his head, a small sting at his knee when the light inside whatever he just pushed into shined upon them. Grumbling, he stood up, running a hand through his hair. “What…”
Like some sort of award show, the light was directly on some sort of pedestal in the small room they’d stumbled into. The room was small, but it directed its interior onto the grandiosity of the item delicately presented on the pedestal. It was shiny, but even more so blindingly under the light. Completely suspicious, especially with how its craftsmanship seemed to be one of quality. Though from a glance Draco could see it wasn’t really as expensive as it presented itself to be. Draco frowned, mind backtracking to attempt any recollection of whatever this was. He could recall that there was a hallway here, but there was never a room.
He didn’t have much of a moment to wonder about it when Blaise walked over to the pedestal, poking at the box Thankfully, nothing happened, but it really did almost give Draco a bloody heart attack. “Zabini. Don’t touch that.” He snipped at Blaise, taking him away.
“Nothing happened!” Blaise raised his hands defensively. “It’s shiny.”
Theodore walked up to the pedestal, looking over the box, examining it before taking it with barely any hesitation. He held it close, hand rubbing over the material. He smiled, “It’s safe. The box isn’t old. Doesn’t seem to have any machination to inflict anything…”
As if challenging to correct Theodore, the room started to shrink, and the light blew out like a candlewick. Draco took both of the boys out of the room to where they’d entered from, landing on the floor just before the room shrunk into itself entirely. Draco breathed, giving a passing glare to Theodore before pressing his hand on the wall again.
This time, the wall revealed itself, showing the hallway that Draco could actually remember. On the other side stood a lone Luna, waving at them with a smile. She didn’t seem affected at all that they’d suddenly appeared on the other side of a seemingly empty wall. She didn’t question it at all, skipping over with her book in hand.
“Hello. How was flying?” Luna asked, still brimming with a complete obliviousness to the fact her friends were sprawled on the floor in recent distress clear on their faces. She tilted her head, “Not very good, was it?”
Draco sighed, standing up with a brush off of his robes. “It was fine.”
“We got a box from that wall.” Theodore said, presenting the box. He wasn’t fazed at all with holding it, only just as curious as before.
“That thing could be dangerous! It nearly bloody squashed us!” Blaise glared at the box, almost holding a personal grudge with it.
“Technicalities. The pedestal was the one to close off that room. At least we got it.” Theodore continued to fiddle with it, holding it to be illuminated under one of the hall candles. “It’s not an artefact. It’s not old enough for that. I think someone put it here.”
“Really. Just placed it in some old room on a pedestal for someone to find it. How ridiculous is that?’”
“It has… a compartment.” Theodore frowned, shaking it. He fiddled with it some more, clicking on something that nearly had Blaise toppling over Luna to hide behind her. Luna just smiled, moving to help Theodore.
Almost anticlimactically, nothing happened. They stared at the box, seeing nothing until the box’s top popped up as if were winded to do so. It clicked open with a spring, launching towards Theodore to show a lone piece of paper hanging off the spring. Draco plucked it off and closed the box before straightening it out. "Where books and knowledge come alive, seek a place where scholars thrive. In a room filled with wisdom's grace, find me amidst the towering space."
He frowned, passing it to Theodore. “It’s a bloody riddle.”
“What are we supposed to be finding? It’s rather vague.” Blaise examined the box from afar, standing in consternation. He looked at Theodore's face, frowning. “You can’t seriously be thinking about it, are you? We nearly just got smashed up just now.”
Theodore’s face beamed, “It’s interesting. The charm cast on it is recent, so no one else must have been able to get whatever it’s leading to.”
“It could be in the Ravenclaw Tower.” Luna suggested, taking the box. Their voices were coming to a hush, almost as if they were sharing a secret between themselves. She swayed on her feet, holding the box above her to see it against the light. “I don't mind checking there.“
“Possibly. But it’s in a room. It can’t be the entire Ravenclaw Tower. It needs to be more specific.” Theodore contemplated, ignoring Blaise’s outcry of how risky it is.
“It wouldn’t hurt to search.” Luna said.
Theodore nodded in agreement, looking at Draco. “Is it possible for us to look for it?”
Draco sighed, patting Blaise’s shoulder to keep him calm. “Alright. Just stay out of trouble.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you could assist in drawing out directions.”
“Directions?” Draco repeated, scoffing with a laugh. “I hardly think I know where that riddle wants us to find it.”
“No, no.” Theodore shook his head, “Last time… you knew where to go. And honestly, Blaise and I haven’t found ourselves lost thus far because you just know every hallway here somehow.”
Draco flinched at that, crossing his arms in an instinct to deflect. He memorised the halls because of duties, but especially so when Potter and his friends decided that disappearing off into random disappearing doors was suddenly so fun. “So, what do you need, exactly?”
“A map.”
“It’d take too long.” Draco motioned to the riddle in the boy’s hand, “For that riddle in your hand, especially.”
“It doesn’t need to. We can help you outline it if you show us the directions.” Theodore scratched at the back of his neck, “We’ve been thinking of it, particularly after you had to find Blaise lost a few days ago.”
“I wasn’t lost. I was… directionally misguided.” Blaise interrupted.
“You were lost, you git.” Draco rolled his eyes, rubbing on his temples. “Fine. Alright. I can’t promise how fast I’ll finish with it, but I know my way enough that I can draw one out for you.”
Luna cheered, holding the box close. “Thank you, Draco.” she smiled, taking Theodore’s hand. “Theodore and I need to get some herbs, we’ll catch you later!”
Theodore smiled weakly, waving to Blaise and Draco before speeding up down the hall to catch up to Luna. They couldn’t see them once they turned the hall, but Luna’s eager voice could be heard, echoing down with their steps as it thinned out. Theodore had become more interested in Herbology because of Luna, snatching some of Draco’s own muggle plant books to read. He’d eventually started out an entire journal to record every plant he had read and been given to pick with by Luna.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?” Blaise asked.
Draco frowned, taking the slight offense. “I’m not that paranoid. They’re enjoying themselves.”
Blaise shrugged, “Denial, denial.”
Draco lightly punched his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Let’s go, I need to get some parchment.”
By dinner, Draco was mulling over the part of the great hall that he’d already managed to outline, scribbling on the parchment he’d folded together. It was a bit blurry, but he continued his scribbling as Blaise ate his meal beside him. Luna and Theodore were off somewhere, but he knew they’d be alright. He ran a hand through his hair, drinking his tea. Most of what he’d written down was messy, the detailed marks of what could indicate as directions through the halls being written in French. He’d have to redo it, but a draft was a draft, after all.
Blaise nudged at his arm. “Potter’s been looking at you.”
“I don’t know him.”
“Seemed plenty like you knew him last time.” Blaise’s grin split into a teasing, poking at Draco’s side as the blond squawked, nearly dropping his parchment into the tea. Draco hissed, pushing away Blaise’s hand. “He knows how much of a prat you are.”
“What an insurmountably shocking piece of news! How could anyone ever conclude that evaluation of my character?” Draco said sarcastically, going back to scribbling on his parchment.
“Shame. I never knew a Malfoy could back out of a promise so quickly.”
Draco rolled his eyes. He knew Blaise was attempting to coax the information out of him, but family pride was hardly his utmost priority anymore. “My ancestors were invaders. Hard to believe they’d ever find themselves keeping a promise out of goodwill.”
He stood up when he saw Blaise was done eating, taking him by his arm with his parchment rolled over by his own. “Alright. We’re sneaking out to finish this.”
“Hang on, let me finish my tea, you prat.” Blaise swatted him away, downing the last of his tea before tailing him away to the halls. Draco mapped out the halls from the Great Hall, apathetic to Blaise’s boredom.
After a few turns, Draco crouched down a wall, feeling out the bricks before standing up again and pulling one of the candle sticks to open a wall. He sneezed at the dust, rubbing his nose. He wrote down where it would lead to, closing it. He has enough time to go through the place, he didn’t want to hurry through a dust palace.
“Why do I have to be here?” Blaise mourned, crouching down next to the closed wall as Draco took out a handkerchief to wipe at his nose.
Draco laughed, handing a parchment to him. “I know you can remember it. That’s why. So, help me while Luna and Theodore go find fairies or whatever they’ve been doing these days.”
Blaise muttered some pitying words to himself, taking the parchment and drawing a simple print of the entirety of the way they’ve gone through thus far. He was thorough, but he didn’t seem to want to give too much, writing down basic directions. Merlin, Draco hoped no one would ever allow the git to become a teacher.
Draco looked over the vastly empty space of his parchment when he’d opened it. He grimaced, smiling wryly. “This is going to take a while. We’ll have to hide from Filch…” he paused. “Would you be alright with staying up past midnight?”
“I have a free period.” Blaise shrugged, still writing. “How about you? You’re not into pulling all-nighters.”
Draco looked wryly at his quill. “I'll live. I haven’t slept all that well lately either way.”
They went through the halls for a few hours, working through the Hufflepuff Commons because of its proximity and avoiding Filch and his cat all the way through. By the time they closed in to eleven, they moved on to the halls near the Ravenclaw Tower. Draco wasn’t very particular with it. He finished drawing most of the paths, only needing a few key indicators of their location to draw up the directions for it. He could go back any day and he knew that despite Blaise’s outward expression of boredom, he was good at this. Draco only needed to tell him about the directions, and he would memorise it on his own.
He threw another piece of candy to Blaise’s way, keeping his attention on the task at hand whenever he got too distracted by anything in the halls worthy of any interest. He looked over his parchment again, cracking an ache in his shoulder. A yawn passed through his lips, straightening out his lines while Blaise ate his chocolate.
Steps echoed through the hall, alerting both of them. Draco looked around, pulling Blaise near the corridor and moving a painting aside for both of them to fit through.
Blaise tapped at his wand, muttering a quiet lumos for both of them. Draco pressed his ear against the wall to hear. Neither of them were too worried. They’ve been avoiding Filch the whole way through their little work. Although they still felt surprised each time at a small noise, Blaise trusted Draco to get them to a hiding spot quickly enough for Filch to think nothing of their traces.
“Hermione, I’m telling you. I heard them.” Weasley’s voice was worryingly loud outside in the hall.
“It’s ridiculous to be out this late! It doesn’t matter what some Slytherins are doing. We could get detention for this!” Granger’s words were said in more of a whisper, but still painstakingly loud in contrast to the deafening silence of the castle at night.
“Can’t really do much now, can we…?” Potter’s voice said, almost meek. “I mean, the Fat Lady’s gone off somewhere.”
“Harry, you can’t possibly be supportive of this. This dimwit got us locked out! Locked out !” Granger left the whisper, a stomp accompanying her irate.
Potter didn’t respond, instead Weasley stepped in with a frown evident from his anguished voice. “What?! I just—” Weasley stammered, “Harry, come on! You heard what Malfoy said! Zabini was with him too! They can’t be far from here. Who knows what those slimy gits are up to!’
They all froze, even Draco and Blaise in their little hiding spot when a sudden noise interrupted Weasley’s ramble. “Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.” And came a series of thundering steps, all of the Gryffindors outside in the hall running like their lives depended on it.
Draco and Blaise looked at each other, grimacing. He could hear Potter calling for them to go another way, running just out of Filch’s reach long enough until a loud clang and crash ensued, loud enough for both boys in the hiding place to flinch. Thundering steps followed with frantic meowing. Filch was muttering about the ‘damn kids’, following his cat down the hall to where the Gryffindors had run off to.
The two held their breaths, finally breathing out once Filch’s voice had fully gone away. They took a moment just in case before Draco moved the painting away, helping Blaise out of it. They ran off, taking the chance while Filch was busy to leg it back to their dormitory. They didn’t even have to tell each other of their plan, both running like their shoes were on fire.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" A loud bellow that could only belong to Peeves made them run even faster, hearts beating out of their chest as Blaise nearly stumbled. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR.“
They reached back to their dormitory, saying the password with absolutely no plans to go back. The Gryffindors were on their own and neither felt particularly chivalrous to save them from it. They panted, dropping near the wall in their common room. Blaise splayed himself across a couch, struggling to find his breath with a gleam in his eyes.
Draco ran a hand through his hair, taking off his robes with a grimace to wipe away his sweat. He hated sweating just when the weather was getting colder. He breathed, finding his voice sooner than Blaise.
“That damn Weasley—bloody weasel!” Blaise cursed, his chest heaving. Standing up, he took off his robes, quietly stomping back to their room. “Can’t mind his own bloody business.”
Draco followed with a sigh, throwing his robes onto the laundry. He sighed, taking out some new clothes for himself while Blaise continued to grumble when he collapsed onto his bed.
“What happened?” Theodore stirred awake, pushing his hair away from his eyes.
“Gryffindors.” Blaise spat out.
“We were mapping out the hallways and it seems that Weasley had overheard us talking about it. He pulled along Granger and Potter somehow and sneaked out to try and catch us.”
“Oh. Are you alright?” Theodore was clearly half-awake, swaying despite how he was sat up.
Draco nodded, “We’re fine. We can talk about it in the morning, go back to sleep, Nott.”
Blaise continued to grumble, taking out his parchment to correct over it while he complained. Draco took a thorough bath to get rid of the sweat, walking out in his pyjamas to Blaise, still petty and frustratedly writing.
He kicked at the post to the boy’s bed, tilting his head wordlessly to the bath but was ignored. He repeated his instruction for Blaise to take a bath but was ignored once again. “ Vai a fare il bagno .”
“ Si, si .” Blaise said absentmindedly, obviously still not paying attention as he started to mix his complaints of Weasley in Italian instead because of Draco’s interruption.
“Zabini. Bagno .” Draco was having none of it. Damn to hell if he had to fix Blaise’s bedsheets with his unbathed sweat in it.
Blaise paused, looking at Draco with a frown. He stood up, sighing as he passed over his parchment. “ Non parlare così. Sembri mia mamma. ”
“I wouldn’t have to if my words weren’t going from one ear to the other.”
Blaise grimaced, “Now you sound even more like her.”
“Take the bloody bath, Zabini.” Blaise rolled his eyes, closing the door to their bathroom with a slight slam.
Draco took their parchments to compare them, making corrections on his own. He didn’t put any corrections on Blaise’s, knowing there wouldn’t be any mistake there. He still added some directions to it, adding notes of what to look for to identify the particular hallway from all the others.
Blaise came back to his bed with his hair still wet, curling in his sheets and falling asleep. Draco only shook his head, placing a towel under Blaise’s head so it wouldn’t make his pillow wet. He finished with noting down everything, rolling both parchments and placing them in his drawer before collapsing in his own bed.