Chapter 10
Draco never liked Hallowe’en. Well, that would be an overstatement, he liked the whole concept of getting candy for doing absolutely nothing, and his Aunt Bella loved the idea of being able to trick him scot free for once. The whole debacle had been more of a spectacle for him as a child rather than something to truly dwell on with some sort of “Hallowe’en spirit”, so to say.
Holidays weren’t a common occasion, they just came and went by the time he knew that mythical beings like Santa Claus didn’t actually leave behind presents in socks and under the tree. Which, embarrassingly, was by the time he was thirteen. By that point, he hadn’t even particularly believed in much of it all, but that slight hope in his heart honestly shattered the second he found his usual sock empty. Perhaps that itself was a loss of a childhood despite the fact his family wasn’t even Christian. Or believe in a god whatsoever, or… honestly, Draco could no longer remember any moment religion had been brought up in his home. He would hear how much of Aunt Bella’s actions would be blasphemous even to the gods, or God, but he had never heard of faith being brought into their household.
It wasn’t as if Draco was unfamiliar with religion. He knew that Blaise left behind his mother’s beliefs and, non-practicing as he was, he saw him pray to a God before his mother’s body. Theo was a more complex individual in that subject, he could never tell much about him, and he couldn’t fault the boy for it. He didn’t do it purposefully as if he was trying to hide anything - Merlin, he could pop a random mint into Theo’s mouth and the boy would accept it without question. Theo’s beliefs were simple, he cared when he did, didn’t care when he didn’t have to. It didn’t make it any less confusing to know that he actually believed in God when he was asked, it never really showed.
Despite all of these examples of faith, Draco never had any other than the concrete following of the Dark Magic that resided in his family. The Blacks, particularly, never cared. What fear is there of god when no amount of spells can cure what is broken; to be born with a curse is simply a motivation to be more. And what fear is there of a god when committing a sinning concupiscence when all there is to believe is a damned man’s promise for a better world?
Least to say, Draco never liked holidays. Not when his family didn’t care for it, not when he had to watch even someone as faithless as Blaise celebrate a proper Christmas while he was in a snow escape trudging through a mountain, cold and freezing from a ski trip he insisted to his parents he wanted with no intention in mind whatsoever for any celebration. Hallowe'en was no exception. Not when his first proper Hallowe'en among his peers ended up in proper shit having to listen to Quirrel blabber on about whatsoever in his stammering voice as one of his housemates quiver at his robes. That experience had properly ruined any future Hallowe'ens.
Now, back in time, he grits his teeth, tasting the scream just begging to come out as he walks in the halls, Longbottom at his heel, tugging at his robe as he quivers (Merlin, must they tug at his robes every time?), Blaise smiling finely as he greets yet another person in the crowd they pass through. Blaise had always been popular, but this was just getting on his nerves
"Aye, what now? What d’we do? I’m, blimey, what if, what if Professor Snape skins me alive! Oh Merlin!” Longbottom quivered, tugging at Draco’s robe as he struggles to catch up to the blond’s stomping pace.
Merlin, the quivering, the bloody stammering! "Calm yourself, Longbottom. We are going to handle this. You don't need to meddle yourself."
"But, but... what about t’Professor’s potion? He'll notice, an’ oh... what’s gonna happen to Luna?"
"Nothing." Draco grit out, feeling his migraine return by tenfold hearing Longbottom's shortening breath. He breathed deeply, adjusting his tie as he walked, something starting to tingle in the back of his head as he thought of Luna and Theodore wherever they were. Undoubtedly, Luna would be in a spot of trouble, but he'd take the fall for it. Better him than Luna. "Nothing is going to happen, Longbottom. You will not get into trouble. I shall handle it, provided you sod off."
A hand crept up to his shoulder, gently massaging through his robe as he breathed. His head was throbbing with a migraine, and everything around him was not helping with the bustling of the students. He hated being this young, having to cough out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, feeling Blaise’s hand cradle his shoulder bone to keep him still. He shrugged it off, gritting his teeth through the irate. “I’m fine, Zabini.” he murmured, pushing his hand away. He looked back to Longbottom, his stare turning to a narrow. “You will not be speaking of this.”
"He won't either, will he?" Blaise motions over to the shaking boy, a trace of his friendliness leaving as he stares him down. There was a little more familiarity in that, that silent aggression in his tone that many find themselves unnerved by. "You swear you won't grass about this, right, cub?"
Fingers flit over worn cloth, the creases in his sleeves obvious from how much he'd been tangling his hands into them, scrunching and pulling like it would somehow free him of the situation. "I... I, I ain't no snitch, I aint! And how am I supposed to know you'll look after Luna when she's in a state like that? She may be a bit odd, but she ain't no loon. I can't just just clam up, not for the pair of you!"
"Your chivalry is much commendable, Longbottom." Draco snarked, his sarcasm evident. "We understand that other people perceive Luna to be different, but that won't stop us from helping her. You don't understand what you're interfering with."
"'course I know plenty! And I know plenty of how much Luna's been… been picked on in her house!"
"Are you somehow implying we'll bully her?" Blaise looked absolutely disgruntled at the notion.
"No! No, I… oh, no, I'm ain't saying that…!" Longbottom worried at his robes further, "I'm just… I know that Luna ain't thought of very highly. Makes me a little reluctant to trust you."
"We know that. It won't make us any less likely to help her." Draco sneered.
"You're… Slytherins." Longbottom squeaked out, clearly distrustful.
"Speaking the obvious. What relation does that have to anything?" Blaise cocked his head, crossing his arms over his chest as his smile remained. There was a slight tick to his lips, showing his growing distaste. "Unless you mean to imply that equates to us being horrible people?"
Longbottom trembled at that, worrying at his lip as he tried to find his voice, stammering through explanations. It wasn't news, really. To have the automatic reaction from most families considered blood traitors that all students from the Slytherin house are people to be wary of. He'd feel more offended, defend his house pride and stand for what he believed the emblem of the snake truly represented — ambition, regality, leadership. But he was far from those delusions of grandeur now, he hadn't managed to muster a slither of those qualities when it mattered the most. He didn't care to correct Longbottom's assumptions.
There was a good reason for Longbottom to avoid Slytherins. Draco grimaced at the reminder of his aunt's actions, those were unforgivable, truly befitting what people knew of her—a wicked, crazed woman. He still hesitated calling her crazy. It was always such a switch to be around her, even if he loved her, he could still recall the news of Alice and Frank's torture, he could recall the coiling taste of ashen white shock showing on his face, his ears had rung in a momentary doubt when his aunt had entered the manor that very day, a skip to her step as she dragged him to get dressed.
It was an… experience. She made sure he was safe through it, but at the end of it, she had emptied one of her many coffers (it barely scratched a dent on her wealth, but it remained an amassing amount that many would faint to see wasted), his grandmother, Druella, had dragged Bellatrix back to Grimmauld Palace, and his mother barred his aunt from visiting him for a month.
His aunt was a cruel woman—a cruel, tearing woman holding onto his small body begging his grandmother like she was a girl once again that Draco would somehow meet his demise if she left his side. She was a cruel woman. But Draco would never allow anyone to call her crazy. She was the most intelligent, talented witch there could be, even if it showed in cruelty.
Longbottom would be right to be wary, standing in front of his parent's torturer's nephew. He would grow to be just as mindlessly cruel, a Slytherin without the qualities that he had hoped to become.
"I… understand your concern." Draco sighed, ignoring Blaise's frown. "But truth be sworn, Luna is our friend. And we'll care for her."
Longbottom seemed to mull it over, seeing whatever he could find in Draco's eyes before sighing. The strength in his shoulder sagging as he nodded, "It's a bit hard to take your word for it. Still, it's good to know Luna's got friends." he remained still, "I gotta go after her, it's my fault. Should've known the vial was the professor's potion."
"You're a first year, you know little of potions. You wouldn't have known." Draco stands up, running a hand through his hair as he starts to find his own calm. "We don't want anyone knowing of this, you understand, don't you? I hold true to my word that you won't be implicated."
Longbottom quivered, "But…"
"Don't insist on it—what, you've got a crush on her?" Blaise rolled his eyes, leaning up against the wall. He was playing with his wand, growing disinterested in the conversation the more Longbottom stayed in his doubts. At the sputtering from the younger boy, he raised a brow, sheathing his wand back in his wrist holder. "Oh? Oh! You do, don't you? How sly of you, cub. Didn't expect that from the gold and red lot."
"No, no! Of course not!" Longbottom denies almost immediately, his round face flushing as he ducked his chin under his scarf, stammering. "I, I just reckon Luna's amazing. I mean, she does do things a bit different, aye, a bit odd at times - but she's real clever, like a proper genius. And, and I feel like more people ought to look past their first impressions and see her for who she really is, that's all!"
Blaise whistled, hitting Draco's shoulder. The blond glared, annoyed as he rubbed his shoulder. "He does, don't he? Ain't that just adorable, Draykins? Not that it'll go anywhere." he murmured the last to himself, still a little bitter over Longbottom's impression of their house.
"She… well… you seem to get in trouble a fair bit, don’t ya?" Longbottom kicks at his feet, twisting his sleeves once again. "I mean, I wasn’t to keen myself. You all seem to drag her into trouble, like in the Gryffindor Tower…"
Draco stiffened, prepared to deny anything until Blaise opened his big mouth. "You saw us?"
"Blaise." Draco was quick to nudge Blaise away from the conversation with his elbow, gritting his teeth as Blaise's attention was quickly becoming more piqued. He glowered at Longbottom, but shut his mouth. He knew he wouldn't have anything particularly nice to say if there was a chance of his friends becoming implicated in something. "You won't say anything?"
"No! Oh, no, of course not! I really just want to help Luna, I do!" Longbottom hurried, his shoulders hunching at the look that Draco gave his way. "More importantly… it's, I’d reckon it’s better if we find them first."
Draco groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose as he took Blaise by the neck of his robes, "They're probably in our room."
True enough, Blaise caught a jumping mouse in his hands, almost toppling over at the open luggage by Theo's bed. Their room was pristine, aside from the part in Theodore's side mussed with orange innards, the slight youth holding a scalpel in hand as he carves into a pumpkin. His wrist is adept, twisting through the pumpkin like it was pure silk, rubbing his thumb over what seemed to be the eye of the art. He hadn't even noticed them come in, too preoccupied in his work. His eyes didn’t stray, only taking a moment to receive Luna back, allowing her to run over his robes up to his head, the little squeaking sounding like she was instructing him.
"Theodore, we have to bring Luna to Professor Snape." Draco was straight to the point, moving to his bedside and opening his drawer. He rifled through his things, finding a potion vial to aid his headache. He downed it in one go, all too used to the bitter taste to even muster a grimace.
Theo didn't answer after a moment, and Draco almost repeated his statement until he answered. "She doesn't want to."
"She has to. She can't stay like this." Draco shook his head, pushing the drawer back. He sighed at how Blaise didn’t seem to care whatsoever, too preoccupied in observing Theo’s work on the pumpkin. His attention span was really a problem at times.
"It's her Hallowe'en costume." Theo says.
"Hallowe'en costume?" Draco grimaces, disconcerted by the thought.
"Oh, it's a muggle thing. They like to dress up scary-like this time of year!" Longbottom supplied. Draco took notice of how he remained by the door, awkwardly hunching to himself. Either to avoid impeding upon their space or to have the chance to run if need be, but Draco didn't care for that right now.
"Theodore. You can't let Luna stay like this."
Theo stands up, placing his scalpel down. "She wants to. She can do what she wants, Draco." He crosses his arms over his chest, resolute. It was a clumsy attempt on his part to seem more domineering than he was. Theodore was never the type of child to get much skin on his bones, his family’s estate was set primarily in the north, through the tundra of the cold season especially. Perhaps that was why the boy never minded the cold, and even more why he never had much fat on his bones, always the slighter youth even when he would stand next to Pansy. He would grow to look more toned by the time they were older, puberty was kind to him, but at the moment, all that Draco could see in front of him was a small boy attempting to stand up to him with little more than confidence and a mouse on his head.
“Why can’t you listen? We don’t have the time for this.” Draco tried again, sighing. Theo’s eyes stared back at him, the empty black would make most people feel unnerved, but that was just the way that Theo stared. His eyes never really focused on the person, his focus always running elsewhere in a way that most would find unusual.
Theo looks up, hesitating for a moment before placing Luna down to run up to Longbottom, chirping to be carried. Longbottom was all worries and nerves, holding her in two hands to be especially careful. Draco groans, “That’s enough. We’re bringing her to Professor Snape.”
“No.” Theo snaps, “She wants to stay that way.”
“Why?”
Theo stops for a moment, thinking it over. Draco felt another headache come, at that, he could just tell that Theo didn’t know why either. “Muggle customs.” He reasoned, not believing it himself.
“Erm… shouldn’t we be thinking Luna’s safety first? The potion might go all wrong…” Longbottom interrupted, meekly saying as he held Luna close.
Draco scowled, “My godfather’s potions are not… shoddy. He’s a potions master.”
“I’m ain’t saying that!” Longbottom backed up, nervous as Luna travelled over his robes to his shoulder, squeaking.
Blaise held Draco’s shoulders back, patting behind his neck. “Alright, alright… he didn’t mean anything by that. He’s just worried.”
Draco groans, heaving a sigh. “I know. But Luna will be fine as long as we get her to Professor Snape and turn her back—”
Longbottom stumbled, coincidentally still near to the doorway as his weight opened the door, his whimper of pain drowned out by Luna’s squeaking as she ran off in the space given way. Longbottom noticed too late, trying to turn himself over to catch her, her nimble movement jumping over his hand as he tried to reach for her, her squeaks disappearing into the dungeons.
“Luna!”
Theo scrambles, shaking his hands of the pumpkin and haphazardly throwing the scalpel over his bed before taking their map. It was still unfinished, but it still had a general layout of the castle, enough for him to have an inkling of where Luna could possibly go to. He doesn’t get very far to the door as Draco quickly holds him back, chiding. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find Luna.” Theo hurries, tugging at his arm as he scrunches the map in his hand. He stares into Draco’s eyes, searching. “You have to know why.”
Draco pauses, his grip loosening. Theo’s words are vulnerable, in a way that it really shouldn’t be on the boy. “You’re not saying something. And Luna worries, you know that.” He takes off as soon as Draco is distracted, not taking a look back to how Draco freezes in place.
Longbottom is pacing in the room, murmuring about what in the world they should do. A crash breaks Draco out of his stupor, his headache worsening at the sight of his potions on the floor, Blaise’s scouring hands in his drawer effectively ruining the only cure he had on hand for the crushing pain at his skull.
Merlin. He hates Hallowe’en.
They’ve been looking for an hour, and Draco could not hate the day anymore than he already has. Everything seems to irritate him all at once. It hits like a truck, flashing lights in his vision as he walks through the courtyard, pushing his fingers deep into the inner of his eyes sockets, breathing deeply. His head throbs like crazy, ignoring Longbottom’s worried murmuring about how Luna could be hurt.
Blaise was close by his side, shooting worried glances his way as his hand continued to massage his shoulder, trying to soothe him. It helped somewhat, but it made Draco feel immensely awkward, attempting to shoo it away despite the slight help it was giving in favor of dealing with on his own. He didn’t have a single thought as to where Luna and Theo could possibly be. He doubted that Theo had found her either, and he though he didn’t particularly trust any other professor from blaming them for this trouble, he felt a little more at ease to know that they were adults that had cared for him for years. If they found Luna, they would make sure she would be safe in the castle.
The issue really comes to the fact that Filch’s horrid cat, Mrs. Norris, roams the castle. Merlin only knows the real danger that could come to Luna in the state that she was. He desperately hoped she remembered where the hidden passageways were to avoid the cat. Draco wasn’t a cat person, Mrs. Norris’ shrill meows rather ruined any overt cuteness to the creatures. He wasn’t cruel, of course, he still found the occasional cat cute, like perhaps Granger’s cat. Cookhand? Crookans? He couldn’t quite recall the name, but the tabby cat wasn’t deplorable. Honestly, Draco just prefers reptiles. Snakes, the like.
He moved through the hallways, another class ending with students filtering through the halls, only worsening his headache, his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. His head continued to throb, hurting in a way it hadn’t since he was older. He hadn’t expected the migraines to start this early.
Draco turns to another hallway, bumping into another set of his frustrations to this day. He crumples back as soon as he nudges into another figure, his hand twitching to his wand on instinct before laying down his aggression for a moment. He sneers in an almost practiced ease, his shoulders winding back as he sighs. He closes his eyes just for a moment, waiting for his sneer to lower back down to a blank. “Potter.” he greets, a slight grind to his teeth.
Longbottom stops by his side, perking up at the sight of Potter like he’s about to cry. He lets go of his robes, stepping closer to sneak towards the boy wonder, but Draco’s quicker, tugging the boy back by the hood of little red robes, his canines feeling tingly as he lowers his eyes to give a warning glare to the younger boy. There is no way he was allowing him to blabber about whatever just happened to someone.
“Oi, look where you’re going, you git!” The Weasley is quicker on the uptake, standing up to his side with a guarded stance.
“Watch it, mutt.” Draco snarks, too frustrated to hold himself back. He watches Potter’s eyes widen as he speaks, his shoulder twitching as he continues to speak. “You are not his guard dog. Find another bone to cling to."
“Did you just call me a… a mutt, then?” Weasley gaped, stepping closer in a contentious manner.
"Oh, shall I repeat it for you? You trail after the boy wonder like a loyal mutt. But guess what? You are under no obligation to act like a stray. Honestly, it is quite pathetic to even look at you, Weasley." Draco emphasizes.
Blaise follows with a tug to his robe in warning, and before the Weasley can finish his expletive remark in response, Draco’s clutching at his stomach, eyes wide as he stares at Potter’s stance. Potter, the all good, all amazing wizard just punched him in the gut. He gapes like a fish, his brain unable to even comprehend the two words thrown together. Sure, Potter was an arse that stuck to only a few spells in repertoire but being struck physically? Now, that was a low he wouldn’t… well, he would expect more from a younger Potter.
Merlin, right. He had forgotten that Potter was unashamed when it came to what Wizards would call underhanded fighting. He would grapple and turn a fight physical when he could. If this younger Potter were to be given the choice of either fight or flight, he would choose to fight every time. It’s what made him so frustrating in their younger years. To have a feisty, underweight kid quite literally pull at your hair if you so much as start a fight. Well, to say the least, Potter wasn’t just the topic of his letters to his mother for no reason.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that!” Potter growled, his eyes blazed with something close to contempt as he pushed a hand on Draco’s chest, effectively pushing the blond back in his shock despite the slighter strength of his body.
“I…” Draco blinked, unable to just… even fathom the events. He blinked again, groaning back as he stretched his shoulders back to a more proper position, raising a brow at the little crowd they seem to have amassed in their scuffle, a head of messy brown curls disappearing into them as they whisper amongst each other. He tried to even his breaths despite that inner urge within him demanding to stomp his foot in that incorrigible corner of his mind that sounded oddly like his younger self simply seething at the thought he’d been bested by Potter through one punch.
It actually hadn’t hurt. Potter was just so... slight. He looked dwarfed by his own robes and looking at his face—he looks underweight—gaunt. The boy looked so incredibly weak despite carrying the fate of an entire world on his shoulders, the intent behind his retaliation clear as Draco mustered it within himself to gulp back anything he had else to snark. He looked away, finally seeing Potter for who he was in the moment. The kicked down orphan that had clung onto his words like they were hope itself—yet here he was, calling the first friend he’d made a mutt and… Merlin. He cleared his throat.
“You have a wand, Potter . Don’t forget that you’re a wizard, it’s underhanded.” he grit out, ignoring Weasley’s guarded stance before taking Longbottom by the neck of his robes, dragging him off to the direction of the dungeons without taking another glance back.
They moved through the halls, their steps out of sync with Longbottom dragging his feet at times as he actually started to realize that not only would he be in trouble for being an associate in theft, he’d been effectively skipping class the entire time. He fussed the longer they went on through the castle walls, Blaise looked over one of the paintings to check for Luna’s possible appearance, his eyes straying over to Draco with a questioning look at his sudden anger.
Draco could only look away, a listless sense of shame buried in his mind at how he’d lost control. Truth to be told, he was still the same person, and it all blurred together in a mess in his head. He felt his proper age, but he couldn’t help but feel stuck in safety of haughty confidence he’d cloaked around himself for so long. It was almost instinctive, and perhaps a little purposefully. He meant it when he said he’d never be friends with Potter—the notion in itself was an impossible thought. It was certainly comfortable to have him at a distance, but to be without that snark, to be without that Potter that he knew and enjoed the spikes of—well, it made things feel somewhat incomplete.
It wasn’t like it was anything new. Draco picked fights and fought them with barbed words like a spoiled child, which… would be a somewhat fair assessment of his temperament at this age. If he ever lost, he’d only have to call on his father to deal with the squabble, even if most of it ended up with his father chiding him for his childishness and being told repeatedly to actually think before he does something. Least to say, it wasn’t a surprise for Draco to be a bit… loose-tongued, so to say, but it was a definite shift from the calm he’d settled into.
But Draco Malfoy was anything but calm. He was a volatile flame in the hearth of his family home, only engaged with the fire of what would be comfort. And as much as he hated to admit to it, feeling Potter’s red hot anger, his even more volatile flame carding over the shock of pain in his stomach—that was comfort in itself.
It was unreasonable. But he couldn’t rationalize it in his thoughts, much less chide himself for something so shamelessly embarrassing with his headache getting worse as they moved outside to the courtyard, the light of the sun blinding and sending white hot pain through his nerves. He blinked multiple times, a harrowing sigh dragging through his lungs as his fingers itched, wishing nothing more than to be back in the dark of his room and getting rid of the pain.
This was going nowhere, and he had to admit to it. But he couldn’t just leave Luna alone. Especially not after what Theodore said. His hand tightened, lowering from Longbottom’s robes to grasp at Blaise’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, pausing as he pushed his fingers into his nose bridge, his brows furrowing deeply. There is no way, he co
“Malfoy.” Draco’s head snapped back, the deep tone making him blink back to realize his hand was clenched, his head spinning as he leaned against Blaise’s shoulder, their little search party stopping by a shade in the open hallway. He looked up blearily, feeling Blaise’s hand soothing over his neck.
“Migraines?” his godfather’s lulling tone was slow, levelled as his robes gathered to bend over and feel out Draco’s forehead. “You really take after your father. Unfortunately, I do not have any of what your father takes, only a painkiller.”
“Painkiller?” Draco murmurs, the sound itself grinding into his head. He wasn’t unfamiliar to the notion, his godfather had recommended some to him when his body started to build an immunity against the potions.
“Muggle medicine.” Snape shakes his head, “It’s all I have on my person. Not that I would expect students out of class at this time.” his voice is chiding at that, glowering at the two accompanying him. Longbottom cowers at the gaze, as Blaise merely smiles.
Draco takes it, swallowing it dry without any thought. His head still continues to throb, but a part of the sensitivity starts to dull. At least enough that he didn’t feel the need to crush his eyes into his skull. The pain remained, regardless, and he relied on Blaise to take his weight as he hid his sight away from the light. He burrowed his eyes into Blaise’s robes, shaking his head when Longbottom shook him slightly.
“Did your lot steal from my cabinets?” Snape asked after a moment passed, his voice level.
Longbottom jolted in alarm, stammering as he tried to deny and accept the blame simultaneously. He shook like a leaf, irritating Draco’s side. “We, no, I, we didn’t—I mean, I let her, I shoulda known—Professor, I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t test it, Longbottom. I won’t take any points from your house if you stop.” Snape sighed to himself, observing Draco. “You’re becoming too reliant on yourself. I’ve asked of Filch to take his cat and McGonagall is out to find her.”
Draco crumples, nodding. “I’m tired.” Blaise holds him close at that.
“Longbottom, return to your class.” Snape orders half-heartedly, not paying attention to the boy. The Gryffindor takes another look at Draco before running off, his fear of the professor trumping over the worry. He at least trusted McGonagall, more relieved to know Luna would be alright.
“You’re keeping too much to yourself.” Snape murmurs, helping Blaise take Draco to stand. “Return to your dormitories, get Nott to help you. I assume the only one bold enough in your lot to take something of mine was the Ravenclaw.”
“Theo went after her, sir.” Blaise held Draco’s arm over his shoulder, taking his weight.
Snape nodded, sighing. He took a last look at Draco, a wrinkle forming on his forehead as he furrowed his brows. “You mustn't feel hesitant to rely on the adults in your life, Draco.” He left with a swish to his robes, walking through the hallways and disappearing at a turn.
Draco leaned his weight against Blaise, his head continuing to throb. He swallowed dryly, feeling slightly miffed. He didn’t trust many in his life—only trusting of his family. Of his godfather, to the very end of it. He understood what his godfather was well-meaning but he only felt pathetic at being so limited.
“Hey, Draco?” Blaise murmured, his steps silent, his face blank in thought.
“Mhm.”
“Take your time.” Blaise said, “You have the time.”
Draco hesitated, nodding. “Let’s play Wizarding Chess?” he asked softly, moving his weight through uneven steps. “I can try winning this time.”
“Alright. Whatever you feel like.”
Their steps were slow, Blaise’s deliberately so, watching the leaves blow through the courtyard. Draco breathed, his eye catching onto the flow of feathers. He tilted his head as he walked, watching a crow perch over the open hallway before flying away. He shook his head, murmuring about whatever would come to mind to keep himself from groaning. “Do you think pumpkin innards would stain the bedsheet?”
“Probably.”
“I’ll get the house elves to clean.” Draco sighed, “Again.”
“I like my bedsheets.” Blaise protested.
“I’m not having pumpkin stinking up our room.” Draco’s nose crunched at the thought.