Chapter 12
His father’s letters were no longer coming. Draco’s foot tapped in place, placing his previous letters in between his elbow and torso, observing the last parchment he’d gotten with a tick to his brow. Soft flutters of feathers flew past him, soft hoots fleeting through the air with one particular owl perching atop his shoulder as soon as it noticed him. Niklaus pettled at his hair, biting on the blond strands as if to preen him, taking careful consideration of the task at hand with no letter given. The youth only ignored it, having not cared for the same extensive grooming to his hair as he would have in his first year. His hair fell in soft tufts on his forehead, lashes lowered as he read over the fold of the parchment before a breath left him, helplessly folding the rest and placing them in a neat envelope.
Petting Niklaus’ head, he contemplated what he was meant to do. Admittedly, he was unsure as to what this all meant. His father’s lack of any letter whatsoever and his mother’s recent peculiarity didn’t point to any sign of a test of some sort. Not that his father would challenge him with something so trivial like this. Nonetheless, it was out of place enough that he felt unsettled at the situation. His foot tapped against the flooring, hand falling from petting Niklaus (the owl immediately gave a soft hoot of disapproval, fussing on his shoulder) as he pocketed the letters. He walked out of the Owlery with his thoughts swirling.
“Oh.” he looked up, meeting a pair of bewildered eyes as the shorter girl awkwardly twisted her body away from bumping into him, sliding to the other side of the corridor. Her limbs were stiff, blinking rapidly as if she wasn’t expecting to see him, her busy brown hair thrown up haphazardly in a ponytail. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself, looking more akin to a gaping fish than a girl.
Draco raised a questioning brow, his lips twisting into a grimace the longer Granger stared at him like he was an alien being. “What.” his voice came out a snark, glowering down as he tilted his head slightly.
“Nothing!” Granger squeaked out, looking hesitant as her eyes moved between searching for a way out of the corridor or jumping headfirst into the Owlery. She seemed to take into account her options, positively hopping inside the Owlery with a shake to her step as if something was stuck to her legs.
Draco blinked. He’s never been the type to involve himself in unnecessary matters, at least not the kind where he’d somehow have to be involved with a Gryffindor. Never in his life would he concern himself in their business—now, this would be the part where Blaise would laugh at him until the breath leaves him, because Draco is a hypocrite. A nasty little hypocrite that absolutely has picked fights with any Gryffindor (a specific! very specific! Gryffindor, an older Blaise would remind him painfully) whenever the chance would arise).
But at this time, with the weather turning colder, his clothes becoming more layered and Theodore wearing an extra layer more than usual, and the looming thought of exams nearing after the break, Draco really didn’t want any trouble to come to him, at least for a while if possible. And from the house of bravery’s track record (namely Harry James Potter), anything involved with them would just be trouble.
Yule break was coming, and with the lack of letters from his parents, and the increased effort he’s had to make to avoid Potter in the last month—Draco was, to put it simply, tired. He could not imagine anything better than his own bed, and the presence of his parents. Thus, keeping to the desire of having absolutely nothing break his rest, Draco rubbed at his neck, acting as though he hadn’t seen anything. There was no ruining his rest. No Potter, no Gryffindors, not even Luna with her absolute zero sense of preservation was going to change that.
He whistled lowly to Niklaus on his shoulder, holding out his arm for the owl to take as a perch. Niklaus quickly flew to his shoulder, proudly taking his spot on Draco’s arm. He raised a claw, clenching it as he hooted. He carded his fingers through the volume of it making his hand dip into the feathers, scratching gently as the owl tilted its head to direct his touch. “Think you’ll do fine getting back on your own? I’ve got homework to finish.” Niklaus hooted, keeping his head tilted when Draco pulled away.
Niklaus remained in a tilted state; wide, round eyes staring. He nudged at Draco’s hand hooting softly as if begging. “Alright. Alright, alright.” Draco complied, petting the owl for a little longer before allowing him to fly back into the Owlery on his own. If Draco heard a surprised yelp at the speed that Niklaus had flown back in, Draco decided that he simply didn’t hear anything.
The air was penetrated through the layers of his clothing, tugging at the fabric as he lamented how cold it got in the country this time of the year, sticking closer to the walls where the candles permeated their heating charms as he walked back to his dorm room. Entering, he came face to face with a towel thrown over his face the moment he swung the door open. His shoulders sag as he finds Blaise barking out a laugh as he kicked at the pillows thrown over the floor, ruining the state of the room that Draco had been doing his best to keep clean despite the presence of three boys living in it. A few blankets were piled up all over the foot of the bed, covering the cabinet at the end as candles were strewn over to lead to Blaise’s stray foot kicking at them as Luna piled herself on him, suffocating him with her body as she laughed boisterously.
Breathing in a straight inhale was difficult as it clattered against his lungs, head throbbing with the repeating thought about the mess, gums aching as he ran his tongue over his teeth. He wrung his hands out, subconsciously taking one of the towels to clean his hands. He reminded himself of what was to come soon—his own bed, in the manor, with his parents. He allowed that to plague his mind as a reprieve, dragging his feet over to Theodore’s side of the room, finding it clean despite the items thrown all around, a grown left him as he jumped headfirst into the bed.
His cheek pressed against the grey sheets, hair mussed in soft tufts over his eyes as he flopped over to lay on one of Theodore’s pillows, the drag of his weight against the soft mattress allowing his worries to soften to a buzzing hum in his ears. He shifted his body, kicking at his feet to hide them under the comforter as if it would allow him to ingrain himself into the mattress anymore than he already could have. His head was thrown back when Theodore popped his head above him, shielding him from the flight filtering through the canopy as he blinked owlishly, a tilt to his head reminding Draco of Niklaus. Grimly, he shooed the boy away and flopped himself back over to press his face into the pillow. His throat cracked with a groan, the more Theodore tried to get his attention, the more he only shook his head.
“Draco, are you alright?” Theodore softly nudged.
“No. Leave me alone.” His voice was completely muffled against the pillow, hugging the sides of it like he was going to be pried off otherwise.
The side of the mattress dipped by Draco’s right, the soft shuffle of steps moving to a tentative touch on his head, small hands raking over his hair as if to soothe him, gently going in circles. It was a reluctantly welcome touch, massaging over his scalp and dipping down to his temples. With his lips pressed to a thin line, his shoulders slumped.
“You’re pouting.”
“I’m—what?” He shot up from the pillow, a tick to his brow. “I’m not pouting.”
“Did something happen? Extra homework? Did someone hex you?” Draco groaned at Blaise’s questions, shoving his face deeper into the pillow.
He shook his head, appreciating Luna’s soothing hand through his hair for a moment longer, her thumb brushed closely to his temple, pressing slightly to give him room to think. “No.” he relaxed himself, removing Luna’s hand before flopping back over with his head against the pillow. “Just worried.”
A weight pressed against his stomach, the gentle push of Blaise’s head resting against him as the boy fiddled with a cube in his hand, throwing it up in the air and catching it over and over. Draco blinked, staring at the cube for a while. “My mother’s letters are cut short, and my father hasn’t sent anything. It is… unlike them.” Draco left out the part that the only time this has happened has been because of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named settling in his home. He ground his head deeper into the pillow, trying to chase off the repeating mantra in his head that his mother was going to die at this very moment, the dark lord would get to his family again, his father would fall again. Luna caught his hand as it twitched, gently pressing her thumb over a pressure point on his wrist.
“They’re fine, Draco.” Luna hummed.
“What are you worried about?” Theodore asked, shifting closer to them. His legs came to a crossing position, leaning on his feet as he watched the furrow in Draco’s brow.
“Just… it isn’t like them.”
“Homesick?”
“A bit.” he worried at his lip, “But… I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling.”
“You think too much.” Theodore said brusquely.
Draco laughed, a bitter tinge to his tone. “I know. I can’t help it.”
Theodore blinked, face blank. Slowly, his eyes strayed over Draco’s forehead, staring at the blond strands as if he was making an attempt at sincere eye contact. “They’re fine. My father sent me a letter a few days ago.”
“That’s rare.” Draco didn’t hide his distaste at the mention of Theodore’s father. He could never quite acclimate to a good impression of the man, not when he’s had to take Theodore in due to his father’s work. Through Yule break, the summer break, even before Hogwarts when Theodore had been an even skinnier sickly kid. The boy was always picky with his food, and having the metabolism that he did, he almost looked gaunt at times, showing up at the door of the Malfoy manor with a shaking tremble to his young body, looking to the gate his father had left in as Draco would try to pull him inside.
Theodore smiled, “It is. He met your parents for some work. Some sort of… contract business.” he shrugged, unable to give much more. “They’re fine. You think too much.”
“I know.” Draco sighed. Theodore liked to say that to him often when they were older. Not that he was wrong. Theodore just made unwelcome observations at times. He raised a brow, raising his head to look over the state of the room.
“So.” Blaise froze up on his stomach. “What’s all this for? And how is Luna here? Did you manage to get through the ward?” Draco looked pointedly at Blaise.
“I didn’t touch the wards.” Blaise raised his hands in a defensive posture.
Luna laughed, ruffling Draco’s hair. “George and Fred were kind enough to give us a charmed object to get through the ward. They said it’s how they get Katie to hang out with them in their dorm.”
Draco breathed, “Please, tell me you have a way out.”
“Nope!” Luna smiled, completely unbothered.
“Blaise.”
Blaise gasped dramatically, holding his hand close to his chest as if he was wounded. “You’re blaming me?”
“Am I?” Draco raised a brow, smile stiff.
Blaise rescinded, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I figured out the charm, and Fred told me how to get around it. I can move the wards a bit so Luna can get out. They’re not that strong, luckily.” Blaise turned over, resting his arms over Draco’s stomach. “It’s new stuff actually.”
“Probably because the rule against it is new.” Theodore said, “I think it was implemented in the 70’s.”
“Not that new.”
“New enough. Any older and I wouldn’t have been able to read it.” Blaise clicked his tongue, wagging his finger in the air, admonishing.
Draco groaned, taking another pillow to smother his face into it. “What’s with the mess?” he lowered the pillow, taking stock of the state of the room, his brows furrowing in disapproval.
Blaise snorted, undignified in their presence in a way that he could only ever be away from other people, a grin playing at his lips as he poked at Draco’s nose. “For you, git.”
“You know I hate it when you make a mess.”
“Me? I think you mean us.”
Draco looked up, raising a brow at Luna as she played with his hair. She only tilted her head slightly, a wistful smile ever on her lips as she shrugged. There was twinkle to her eye, the kind that Draco could only remember seeing when she had suggest going on their treasure hunt, and the time they’d gone to see that unicorn. Least to say, it was the kind of look that said she was definitely thinking of something fun, but for Draco, it only spelled a headache.
“We were planning on having a picnic with you.”
Alright, that’s actually oddly sweet.
“In the Astronomy Tower. After curfew.”
Oh. Nevermind.
He smothered his face with the pillow, ready to owl his mother at this very moment to send him to Durmstrang and avoid his friends for the next few years until they grew out of this… this rebellion. He huffed at the thought, flushing at the reminder that his godfather thought of him as a rebellious pubescent boy. When he was younger, he had often paraded himself to act as if he was more mature than his peers. Being thought of to be so… immature by his own godfather was humiliating.
“I am not landing myself in another month of scraping the cauldrons.” Draco deadpanned, feeling Luna giggle above him.
“Maybe we’ll just end up cleaning the Owlery instead.”
“That’s so much worse. You’re all on your own if we come to that.” Blaise gagged, shivering at the mere notion.
“We thought you’d need it.” Theodore shuffled closer, laying down next to Draco. “You’ve been upset lately.”
“Pouting.” Luna sing-songed with Blaise laughing along to her.
“I was not.” Draco dragged a hand across his face, running a hand through his hair.
They laughed, and even Theodore chuckled next to him. Humming, Luna took the moment to allow Draco’s momentary frustration to fade, running her hand over Draco’s hair. “So, you’re up for it? Having a picnic?”
“In the Astronomy Tower.” Draco repeated, raising a brow. He looked over them, finding their pleading faces against him. His head fell back, shaking his hand to get them to stop. “Fine. Fine. Never tell anyone how I get dragged into these kinds of things with you.”
“Never tell anyone Draco Malfoy is a complete sap?”
“I am not a sap—“
“So are.” Blaise insisted.
“You so are.” Theodore agreed.
Luna stepped off the bed, rummaging through her bag. It was a large knapsack, filled to the brim as if this was a normal sleepover and not at all a troubling situation of abusing the wards to hang out with her friends.
“I got food. The elves are very kind, they gave me a few extras.” Luna smiled, “Darling little ones, they are.”
Draco sighed, helpless. He dragged his body to sit up on the bed, leaning his weight onto his arm as he shook his head. He felt Theodore tug at his arm, dragging him off to look at some old scrolls while Luna and Blaise took out a case for Wizarding Chess to busy themself with.
Draco could vaguely listen to Theodore’s ramble, something about the snail he’d been talking about for a month now. He only listened, arranging the quills on Theodore’s desk. He could practically recite word by word what that snail was, he wondered how Theodore was still so interested. Nonetheless, he asked questions sporadically, listening to Theodore’s new insights.
Night fell in what felt like the quick fall of a curtain, ending the chatter in their room. Their steps were soft, grabbing at the things strewn all over the floor, folding and tucking various things back into a bag. They left out a few things, Luna’s careful hands folding over one of the blankets. Their curtains were shut to a close, which wasn’t a peculiar sight considering the location in the dungeons. If anything, it always made it look so much drearier if they allowed the curtains open. Blaise busied himself with packing things away into a basket, hauling it up before waiting by the door, his steps squeakier than Theodore and Draco’s.
Sneaking around only got easier the more they did it, never the same heart-thundering experience as the first time, all too used to avoiding the shrill meows of Filch’s cat, hiding their steps as they plant themselves into a different hallway the moment a stray source of light comes filtering through the halls. Draco hauled the basket in his hands, kicking himself off the crawling space they’d come through, his landing making a louder sound than he’d meant to have. He followed Theodore, brushing his shoulder against the huge doors (or, as big as it could be considering that Draco was much shorter than he’d been before), his fingers strained with something fierce, brows furrowing slightly as he pushed back against the wood, settling the basket deeper into his palms to hold it better. The doors creaked, echoing into the night as a burst of cold wind shook him.
Luna beckoned him over with a wave of her hand, holding the folded blanket as her steps pattered into the steps leading to the staircase. Her steps were soft, her feet adorned in her knitted socks, foregoing the use of her slippers as she came to a twirl at one of the steps, eager blue eyes shining in the dark of the Astronomy Tower; Draco immediately worried that she would fall, but true to what Draco knew of her, Luna didn’t care much for the danger of her steps, on her tip toes—always on her tip toes, she preferred to keep her heels off the floor, something that Draco couldn’t really understand. It was careless, but she seemed completely fine, and Blaise was already stepping close to keep her from falling.
Luna’s steps hastened at the last few steps, and Draco nearly let go of the basket when she had nearly missed a step. He breathed a deep sigh, following along. The blanket billowed into the cold wind, the stars bright in the night sky outside—a full moon allowed more of the light to filter through the large windows, casting a large shadow over the staircase, lowering to a proper placement for their picnic as Luna got on her knees, patting the blanket and straightening it.
Blaise lowered the lighter basket, lowering it slowly before grinning with a soft sigh. He flipped the lid of the basket, carefully taking out a few ceramic plates, stacking them alongside each other as he hummed to something under his breath. Theodore helped Draco open the other basket, placing the packed food on the blanket. The waft of the preservation spell that the elves used on the packaging allowed the fresh waft of still slightly warm food to swirl through the cold air, the wood of it warm in Draco’s hand, allowing a slight reprieve to the assaulting cold.
They settled quickly with Luna taking out two more blankets, keeping her steps quiet as she draped a blanket over Theodore and Draco, hopping over to the other side to place another over herself and Blaise. Her breath came out a wispy smoke, rubbing her hands against the other as she shifted closer to Blaise, tucking her feet into her thighs as she spoke with an audible ‘brrr’, her smile hidden into the blanket.
“Tempero.” Draco murmured, breathing in a gulp of warmth for a moment, focusing himself on that warmth to cement his intention in his magic.
Luna clapped, poking at a rice cake and ‘ooh’-ing at the warmth. Theodore settled closer to Draco, bumping his shoulder against him. Draco sighed lowly at the warmth, appreciating how hot Theodore always seemed to run. He was like a walking heater, it always made him the victim to him and Blaise piling on him in the winter months, using the boy as a personal heater as if they couldn’t cast their own spells for that. Neither he nor Blaise would ever admit it, but it was always more satisfactory to bother Theodore. The boy would always get angry at them, kicking at them with his lanky legs like they were sticky snares, almost always ending up with a pillow smothering Blaise to suffocate him.
“So… Christmas is coming.” Blaise said, biting into a rice cake. “What are you doing over the break?”
“I feel like I should ask you that.” Draco ran a hand through his hair, frowning a bit when he noticed how long it had gotten, his bangs even seemed to cover his eyes.
Blaise groaned, rolling his eyes as he bit more harshly into a strawberry. “Don’t remind me. The new git my mother married doesn’t seem like he has anything going on in his head. I don’t know why they even bother.” He laughed bitterly, “As if any of them last long.”
Theodore shuffled, pushing away the plate of strawberries. “Your mother’s a gorgeous woman.”
“Um. First off, gross. Second off, gross.”
“I’m just saying your mother is beautiful. Of course men still bother to chase after her despite all the more… morbid happenings.”
“Just say they all die, Theo. It’s not a secret.” Blaise rolled his eyes, hooking his arm over Luna’s as she hummed, unbothered over the direct wording.
Draco could recall Blaise’s mother, having met her a few times over the course of their friendship. It was inevitable, as a Zabini party was a party worth going to if you had any worth to you in society. No one would dare snub the matriarch even with her past… or, well, present endeavors. His own father had been a death eater, her own matters were barely scratching the surface when it came to the crimes that the other families would get up to. But nonetheless, even he had to admit that Blaise’s mother was gorgeous. At times, he'd even wonder if she could possibly be a veela with her beauty, but the lack of silver hair proved that to be otherwise. She was just beautiful. And perhaps that in itself is more of a feat, without any form of lineage or inheritance dictating it to be that way.
She was dignified, proper—the paragon of high society. Perhaps she would even take his own mother’s position in society if not for her endeavors dying left and right. Of course, money makes the world go around, the Malfoys remain garnering their wealth and power—the chances of their position falling wasn’t happening any time soon, until perhaps until the time they fall from grace with the Dark Lord. Though, other than that, Draco knew there was a certain difficulty when it came to other people’s perceptions of Blaise and his mother. Draco tucked his feet into his thighs, leaning against Theodore’s heater-like form.
“Your mother is very pretty.” Luna commented, placing more food on Theodore’s plate as she tugged on the blanket.
“That’s all they see. Brainless—the lot of them.” Blaise sneered. “They can’t see anything past that. None of them ever do.” He trailed off, his voice softening as he closed his eyes. There was a jitter to his hand, foregoing the use of his fork to lean against Luna, his hair brushed against her neck, resting his head on her shoulder.
Draco’s brows furrowed, his lips pursing. “You can come to the manor for the break. My mother would be more than happy to have you.”
Blaise’s reply came out more of a mumble, turning his head to face Draco while still leaning against Luna. The girl brushed his shoulder under the blanket, wordlessly taking his weight without any complaint. “I know. Maybe I’ll take you up on that, if I can’t stand it anymore around them.” Smoke billowed as Blaise sighed, “I’ll be out of the country though. Maybe I’ll steal a portkey.”
Blaise looked up at Luna through his position, poking at her side as it drew a laugh out of her, leaning back to push him playfully. The tension in Blaise’s face faded, hands open and outstretched as he tried to block Luna’s wandering hand from tickling him.
“I’ll be out of the country as well.” Luna giggled when Blaise got a good tickle in. “Father is waiting to write an article on the frost giants.”
Blaise raised a brow, “Really.” He was obviously doubtful, but Luna wasn’t disappointed at all, even grinning.
“Really. I’m more interested in finding some mufflehogs though, they should be hibernating at this time.”
“Those are real?”
“Maybe.” Luna smiled, “What really isn’t?”
Blaise shrugged at that, shifting his gaze over to Theodore stuffing his face. The blank-faced boy only tilted his head, unmoved. He licked his lips, catching a crumb or two as he continued to eat the ham sandwich—only ham, not even a smidgeon of a condiment. He swallowed the last of it, his form stiff as he sat up straighter. “What?”
“Where are you going for the holidays?”
“Nowhere.”
Draco shifted, his hand paused from taking a sandwich. “What? Again?”
“I’ll stay at home. Hopefully.” Theodore said.
“Do you want to go with me?” Blaise suggested.
Theodore raised a brow, unamused at the suggestion. “I’d rather not.”
“You can stay with me.” Draco spoke up, a furrow to his brow as he thought of Theodore’s father.
Theodore breathed deeply, shaking his head as he gathered himself. He poked at his food, worrying at his lip as he twitched. “I don’t need it, really. It’s nothing.”
Draco shrugged, “My family does nothing for the holidays. We don’t really believe in anything.”
It was a little humiliating to have nothing to his name, for something so long-standing like the Malfoy family, they lost a lot of the more… menial practices. Pureblood traditions and customs could never leave them if they wished to remain relevantly powerful in society, but it was the little things. Having nothing to believe in made him feel isolated from his peers. Not that he was unhappy, but the realization that even Blaise had something to turn to when it mattered… well, it was a little disconcerting. Religion was hardly involved after the Dark Lord came into power the first time, and his father didn’t have much of any interest to teach him about the older practices, or what little they believed in. His mother wasn’t privy to it either, always hesitating. When he’d convinced her to tell him, Draco had only paled and never requested to know again.
Her side of the family… there was very little religion involved other than their own blasphemous belief of their vanity. His own mother seemed to have gotten the least of it, but even she had days of near insanity. The only things she could tell him was of the severity of the curse in her family. It was enough to have Draco questioning everything and never asking of it again.
“There’s plenty of things to believe in.” Luna said.
“Nothing in my family.” Draco swallowed, “Only the Dark Lord.”
That brought a hush over them. Theodore shifted, holding Draco close.
“You can start believing in whatever you want.” Luna tilted her head, “I still think Santa exists.”
“Of course Santa exists. Everyone knows that.” Blaise said as a matter of factly. Theodore and Draco looked at him like he was an idiot.
“See.” Luna smiles, “Nothing wrong with it.”
Draco grimaced, nodding solemnly. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”
Theodore laughed next to him, and he settled into the warmth it gave him, chewing as he stared at Luna and Blaise starting to bother one another again. He settled in the blanket, a smile tugging at his lips. He’d never felt this warm in the winter before.
As the night settles into them, Theodore starts to fall asleep by his side, nestling to crawl onto his lap, curling up with his head on Draco’s lap. He threw the blanket up a bit further to cover the boy better. Running a hand through Theodore’s hair, his breath settled against the cold, a sense of calm filling him with his stomach filled for once. A long sigh sounded in front of him, looking up to find Luna in the same position, gently cradling Blaise’s head in hand against her shoulder.
Her lashes trembled as she stifled a yawn, smiling. “When you go home, Draco…” she seemed to mull over her words, unsure of what she was speaking of.
“Hm?” Draco entertained her, continuing to ruffle Theodore’s hair.
“Don’t know.” Luna giggled, “I just think… you should know you have more time than you think you do.”
Draco raised a brow, “What?”
“You’re not running out of time anytime soon.” Luna gathered the blanket around herself and Blaise.
“I know that.” Draco bit at his lip, “I know.”
“You don’t act like it sometimes.” Luna said, “You’re chasing.”
“Chasing.”
“Running.”
“I know the synonym.” Draco snarked, scoffing.
Luna only laughed. “I don’t know.” She closed her eyes, “I don’t know a lot of things.”
He paused, offering. “You’re a lot smarter than people give you credit for, Lovegood.”
“No, no, no… you’re not telling me—a lot of things.” Luna yawned, “But maybe that’s alright. As long as you’re alright.”
Draco’s breath hitched, “What?”
He tried again to ask what she was talking about, but Luna was fast asleep, leaning back against Blaise as her breath evened out.
Draco looked to his feet, calming himself. He started to clean up everything as they slept, trying to clear his mind.
His mother’s hold on his shoulder tightened, her monotone voice coming out harsher than she would often allow it to be. She breathed deeply, a smile ever present on her face, the minute dig of her fingers into her own palm showing her slowing temper. “We’ll be happy to take him. I assume you have some more important matters to attend to, once again?”
The wizened man remained at the foot of the door for a moment, shifting in his robes as he pushed Theodore closer. He had the same eyes as Theodore, the odd, unsettling stare in the way the bottom of their whites would show despite the calm set of their face. It was undeniable to say that he was handsome, he didn’t have the same youth to him that Theodore had, but he grew into his age wonderfully, the whites of his hair showing through the slick-back hairstyle that actually looked proper on him (rather than the slick-back hair that Draco adorned for the first few years of his schooling—a proper nightmare, looking back on it). He looked similar to how Theodore’s features would grow into when they got older. Sharp jaw covered by a clean stubble, strong eyes and brows—it wasn’t a surprise that Theodore was sought after, inheriting features like that.
But the only feeling Draco could muster for the man was vehement distaste.
“I will have some matters to deal with in Portugal.” The man remained still for a moment, “Theodore does not deal well with portkeys.”
“I see, no other way around it, is there?” Narcissa smiled genially, but her eyes hid the same distaste she had. She shifted her attention to Theodore’s still form, beckoning him over. There were clearly other ways to travel, even if it were more troublesome, it was undeniably possible for Theodore to come with his father to Portugal.
“Yes.” Nott Senior sighed, his gaze remaining level despite the clear understanding of Narcissa’s distaste. “Thank you for taking him. I give my sympathy, I understand the difficulty of a trying time like this.”
Narcissa’s gaze turned sharper though her face remained ever pleasant. “Thank you.”
“I understand your grief.” Nott Senior added with a shake to his head, looking down at Theodore as if he were seeing someone else before pushing the boy to Draco’s side. He nodded, leaving without a lasting word to his own son.
Narcissa waited until Nott Senior had left before making her displeasure known on her face, scoffing to herself. She bent down to their level, ruffling Theodore’s hair familiarly, having housed him numerous times over the years. This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t particularly be the last time. As far as Draco could remember, Theodore’s father had been dropping him off at his or Blaise’s home sporadically over the years, it hadn’t mattered if Theodore had been unhappy of it, or if it was a special day like Theodore’s birthday—his father acted as if he didn’t exist.
Theodore’s father had never been a great topic of discussion. Frankly, if Draco hadn’t received the amount of etiquette classes that he had received in his youth and the numerous times his mother has had to slap a ruler over his hands to punish him for bad behavior or the occasional potty mouth, Draco would be unabashed to call Theodore’s father an asshole. Narcissa would gasp and absolutely admonish Draco for it, but she’d probably agree silently, having snidely insulted the man on the few occasions her anger would slip up at the situation.
His mother loved to have Theodore over, she thought of the boy as quite a darling. Their manor was never short of luxury to provide for guests, and having another child had always been her dream. But that was impossible, as having Draco had been enough of a struggle and they received the devastating news that Narcissa was unable to have any more children after Draco was born. But it remained a silent hope that had Draco anxious to have a wife when he was younger, if just to give his mother a grandchild to fuss over. Least to say, having another child staying in the manor was never in Narcissa’s complaint. But she did hold a silent distaste for Nott Senior, leaving a child all alone so often… she found it distasteful and irresponsible.
“Welcome to the manor, Theodore. I believe you’ll be able to find your room just fine, won’t you? Though, I’m sure you’ll want to stay with Draco in his room again.” Narcissa smiled, “Or perhaps you’ve grown tired of staying in the same room as him?”
Theodore shook his head, “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Aunt Cissa.”
Narcissa stood to her full height, sighing as she spoke. “Mipsy.”
A house elf appeared in thin air at her call, immediately rising for a command. “Yes, Mistress?”
“Get Theodore settled in his room, and take care of the children…” Narcissa hesitated, “I’ll have to leave soon.”
“Yes, of course, Mistress.” Mipsy nodded quickly, moving to allow Theodore to follow her before leading him into one of the hallways. Draco remained, brows furrowed at what his mother had said.
“You’re leaving?” Barely a few days have passed since he’s returned home, yet his mother was leaving?
Naricssa pursed her lips, “In a few days.”
“What for?”
“Go help Theodore settle in, Dragon.” She spoke briskly, clearly expressing that the conversation was over. Draco’s brows furrowed at the response, but nodded his head, following to the hallway that Theodore had left to.
Returning home had never been more normal. His father was the same as ever, controlled by his work and often in and out of the manor in the oddest of hours at the call of the ministry. He showed signs of a deeper stress than he would usually have, but that in itself was not an odd occurrence. His job was demanding, and the ever present suspicion on the Malfoys as a dark family was impossible to stay away from. But it was his mother’s difference that had him suspicious. She would be overjoyed at the presence of Theodore, welcoming him warmly, but at this time, she would often lock herself in her room, refusing to come out unless it was for a meal or to occasionally look after Draco and Theodore. She was somber, eyes downcast with her clothing showing her state—she was covered head to toe in black, constantly wearing a shawl as she covered herself as if to hide her vulnerability.
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the pieces on the chess board as if they had personally offended him, his feet tapped against the floor. He made his move, checking Theodore into a corner as the boy only silently mulled over his options, making a move that only allowed Draco to check him once more.
Theodore had a tick to his lips that indicated a frown, but nonetheless, he only sighed, conceding. “I’ve lost.” He flicked his own king over, shaking his head. “You’re better than Blaise.”
“No one’s better than him.” Give it a few years, Draco thought. He fixed the pieces, readying to start a new game as Theodore looked absentmindedly out of the window.
“Was that window always open?” Theodore commented idly, allowing Draco to fix the pieces on his own as he leaned back on his seat, steadily balancing himself on one of the legs of the chair.
Speaking off… it was oddly chilly. “Mipsy, close the window.” Draco called, but after a few moments, the elf hadn’t come. He sighed, standing up after fixing up his own king, pushing his seat away with a creak. He moved to close the window, pausing. A crow perched on the windowsill, staring at him. It remained still, tilting its head slightly to take a good look at him, the beads of its eyes almost intelligent.
“There’s been a lot more crows lately.” Theodore leaned against the back of his chair, blinking owlishly.
“There has been.” Draco said, shaking his head as he used his hand to shoo the crow away, closing the window with a slam.
“Lots of them around you.” Theodore commented idly, picking at a pawn as he made his first move.
“You’re sounding oddly like Luna.”
Theodore squinted his eyes, looking right above Draco’s head as if he was meant to see something there. He blinked after a few moments, shaking his head. He moved his pawn once again once Draco made his move, flanking back in his seat with his feet planted on the plush seating instead of the floor. It wasn’t a proper position, but no one was around to see it and the feeling of the floor wasn’t very appealing to him. Draco didn’t comment on it, leaning back in his seat with a twitch to his neck, moving his knight.
“Can’t see them.” Theodore said, “Wrackspurts.”
“Do you think they exist?” Draco personally didn’t. Regardless of how many times Luna seemed able to predict his mood just by looking at his head, he always chalked it up to more of her intuition than anything outlandish like… little creatures.
Theodore tilted his head, “I’m not disbelieving of anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” He moved his bishop, taking Draco’s knight. “If anything exists, there just has to be a reason for why it exists.”
Draco watched his knight become decimated in a quick attack, nodding for the boy to continue as he moved his queen to position.
“A lot of what Luna says is… eccentric. I can say that.” Theodore murmured, “But everything is eccentric if you really think about it. Centaurs speak mainly of the stars because they are natural seers—yet that centaur in the forbidden forest was entirely literate. How weird is that?”
“Odd.” Draco recalled that centaur in his punishment in the Forbidden Forest, taking Theodore’s pawn.
“Nothing is same, Draco. I’m… entirely different, as well.”
Draco paused, “You’re not. Not like… that.”
Theodore shook his head, he spoke numbly, as if he was reading from a practiced script. “No. I’m a freak.”
“You’re not a freak, Theo.” His hand on his pawn pushed down harshly on the tile, tilting a few pieces out of place.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Theodore’s voice lowered, “I know there’s a reason why I am a freak.”
“Theodore.”
“Did you know that it’s possible to know someone’s smiling just by their voice?” Theodore placed his rook down, checking his king.
“Not always.”
“But not never.”
Draco sighed, “Theodore, you’re not a freak.”
“Luna thinks I am.” Theodore smiles, “She thinks it’s wonderful—thinks I’m wonderful.”
“You are. But…”
Theodore shakes his head, bringing his head to rest at his knees as he takes another check. “I think there’s a reason why Luna can see the eccentricity in all these creatures.” he murmurs, sighing as Draco takes his queen. “I don’t see it. But I don’t know a lot of things, and they still exist—so what really doesn’t exist?”
He smiles as Draco doesn’t see his rook coming, circling his king with a checkmate. His face beams just slightly, his usual expression as blank as ever other than a slight raise to his brows, his shoulders sagging in relaxation.
“Checkmate.” Theodore flicks Draco’s king over, grinning.
“You’ve made your point.” Draco sighs wistfully, cleaning up the pieces as Theodore takes his book off the table.
A pitter-patter pads out in the halls, a house elf runs past the open door with a haste made it seem as if something was hot on its heels. He pushed at the table, ignoring Theodore’s intrigued look from under his book, stepping to the door. His shoulder brushed against the wall, arms crossed over the other as he raised a brow, his voice eerily calm.
“Mipsy.”
The house elf froze in place, looking back and forth between her feet and the hallway before trudging in front of him. She trembled in place, her fingers twiddling against each other, feet pressing flat against the floor.
“Yes, young master? Did young master Draco need something from Mipsy?”
“I called for you earlier. Where were you?” Draco’s voice was harsh, running a hand through his hair. Idly, he noted that he should get it cut soon.
“By the mistress’s side, Mipsy was.”
Draco looked down, “You were running in the halls.”
“Mipsy is required to dunk herself in the water outside, young master. Mipsy overheard what should not be.”
“What did you overhear.”
“Oh… ohh… Mipsy cannot say.”
Draco glared, “Mipsy.”
“Mistress’s family has died.”
Draco blinked, “What?” he stood straighter, an itch at his gums as he rolled the words in his tongue, trying to make sense of it for a moment as a pang of pain tilted at his heart. “What? Dead?”
“It… it is… it is why there has been much preparation… the Black Manor will be used for the proper burial rituals.” Mipsy’s lip wobbled as she slowly admitted what she had heard, “But… but… Mipsy has intruded upon the mourning rites. It is unforgivable. Mipsy is required to go to her punishment now.”
His face hardened, brows furrowed as he left the wall, running a hand through his hair. “Leave.”
“Yes, yes… thank you, young master Draco.” Mipsy hurried, anxious to do what was ordered.
Draco felt frost curdle in his stomach, a gag at his throat as he curled into himself, his feet dropped to the floor. He bit at his thumb, a crescent shape of his teeth grating into the pale skin as he trembled. His bones jumped at the warm touch placed on his shoulder, gnashing his teeth as bile crept in his throat, falling backwards and nearly toppling over onto the plush carpet in the halls.
His breath came short, grasping at the fabric of his shirt as tears shocked his eyes. He felt that curdle in his gut again, unable to help a hacking cough coming out of him as he fell back to a warming embrace. He kept hacking, coming in between a gag and a cough as his insides continued to tighten, his wand in his pocket twitched, his fingers trembling with a static trickling through his nails that felt more akin to the drip of blood than sweat.
He gagged, covering his mouth as he tried to move his body away from Theodore in the case that he would actually vomit, but the boy had a newfound strength within him, pulling him close to his chest as he embraced Draco’s upper body. He tugged at his shirt, feeling restrained in his own skin as he curled deeper into himself, only grounded by the radiating heat of Theodore’s skin.
“Draco.” Theodore murmured.
Draco dry-heaved. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Rites.” Theodore’s tone was flat, yet Draco could feel the mocking in his voice. “It’s more of a curse.”
Draco coughed, trying to find his senses as he tried to remember how he’d gotten through this the first time. His grandfather’s death had been harsh on his younger body, even worse on a younger mind. But at least had he been in the presence of his father. He tried to recall it, but he could only trace back the dry taste of vomit on his lips when he’d been informed of Bellatrix’s death. It had gutted him, in the literal sense as he lost enough of his blood to be under transfusion charms for a week.
The Black Family mourning rites. It was an appropriate amount of grief to affect them, as every death is another need to cleanse themselves of the baggage of the mourning. A cleansing—or, as Theodore had mocked it to be, a curse.
Draco heaved, nails digging into the wall as he tried to sit upright. “I have to get to mother.”
“You’re going through the worst of it, just grit through it.” Theodore said, pushing him down.
“I have to get to my mother.” Draco thrashed, chest heaving as he twitched harshly.
“In a bit.” Theodore’s teeth gnashed as he held Draco down. “In a bit. You have to get through this right now.”
Draco coughed out blood, everything seemed to gut at his insides as he stood from Theodore’s hold, leaning against the wall as he stained the floor with red. It dipped underneath his fingers, dribbling into the fine wood flooring as his knees buckled. He couldn’t help but curse at this body, tongue flicking at the taste of metal in his gums. His teeth ached, as if they were going to fall out as he coughed.
Theodore was quick to come to his side, holding him up by his shoulder. Draco’s steps came slow, but he trudged regardless, holding onto Theodore’s shorter body as he felt his guts loosen its knots at the taste of blood.
He dragged himself through the halls, the bite of the cold almost a relief more than anything at the continuing curdle. He arrived at the door, tripping over his steps as Theodore left his side, understanding the custom despite disapproving of it. The door creaked, following a crackling cough to his ribs as he ran to Narcissa's weeping side. She was worse off for wear, held tightly in Lucius’s embrace as blood dripped into her dress.
Narcissa accepted him, holding him close as he coughed into her shoulder, their trembling coming to asynchronous hymn, draping the walls in a heavy air as everything trembled. The curtain draped along the large window cascaded down, covering the family from prying eyes, hushing them from prying ears—and they mourned.
The rites are harsh, with nothing else to hold onto other than each other. For nothing is more important to a Black. Nothing more important than their kin, the sanctity of keeping their blood pure.
It was all a blur after. Nothing mattered more to Draco than staying in his parents’ embrace, inhaling their scent coalesced with their blood. If he could think of it, he might have passed out on his own after his mother cradled him in her arms. He couldn’t recall it anymore, his weakened body draped along the couch as silent steps came to his side.
His brows furrowed, the light harsh to his eyes as he waved his hand to get it away from him. The curtains flowed down, covering the sun. He curled up into himself, holding his knees as he shook.
“They left.” Theodore’s voice was distant, warm hands carded through his hair, subconsciously pushing himself against it.
“I know. I’m not allowed to the burial rituals this young.” His voice came out cracked, licking dry lips. “Not that there will be any more.”
Cassiopeia Black had died in the last year before his schooling. He had barely known his great-grand-aunt. It had been a quick though harsh fever. His grandfather’s death meant several things, but one vital thing stood out.
No other Black remains.
His cousin was disgraced, currently residing in Azkaban, the younger, dead—his aunt, disowned. His mother and his aunt, married off.
Their blood was running thin. And perhaps Draco would sneer, pride himself on being the only graceful Black to remain other than his mother, but his blood only ran cold at the realization his bloodline was filthy. He was the only one left and he was a failure.
He was filthy.
They were cursed.
Disgraced. Dead. Disowned. Deranged. Despondent. And a failure.
How have the Blacks fallen to this degree?
Draco opened his eyes, coming face to face with a crow resting with its perch on his chest. He stared, eyes opening and closing as he jolted, unnerved by the stare. He gasped as his lower back hit the arm of the couch, groaning.
“How long… how long has this been here?” Draco looked around, gritting his teeth. “Dobby—where are you, how have you allowed a stray to roam in these walls?”
The house elf did not come, not the pop of an apparition, only the silent hush of the manor as Theodore’s hand settled on the back of his neck. He shivered, staring down as the crow fluttered its wings to settle atop his knee instead.
“It brought something.” The boy took a small stack of books, dumping them over Draco’s lap.
The crow watched, an intelligent glint in its eyes as it flew up Draco’s head. A letter slowly descended, settling on top of the books. Draco’s neck twitched, holding onto the velvet of the couch.
His grandfather’s signage was written over the crème paper, the official crest of the Black family finely displayed, stamping the letter.
“Toujours pur.” His voice came out soft, opening the letter. He read it slowly, thumb crinkling the paper the more he read on as he grasped the books on his lap.
When he finished reading, he laughed. He laughed the same laugh that Bellatrix laughed. Laughed the same laugh Sirius had. Blood dribbled out the corner of his lips as his head fell back, fingers scrunching the letter.
“Always pure.” he repeated, “Always pure are the damned.”