Draco and Theo sat side by side on the sofa in his room at Malfoy Manor. Pansy was draped across one armchair, head and legs hanging over the sides, while Daphne was curled in a tight ball in the other. The silence was heavy, and no one seemed inclined to break it just yet.
Both boys clutched glasses of expensive firewhisky while Pansy swirled a deep red wine in a long stemmed glass, watching it coat the sides then slide slowly back down. Flames from the fire danced and swayed, casting their long shadows across the walls.
“How the hell are we going to survive an entire fortnight of this?” Theo mumbled, taking a deep swallow from his glass.
“Fuck if I know, mate. At least he isn’t living in your house,” Draco replied dully.
“I never thought I’d say that dealing with the idiot twins would be the preferable option. At least they’re easy enough to manipulate,” Pansy added.
“I’m not sure what’s worse, watching someone toss dark curses around like candy or pretending to enjoy inflicting them on firsties,” Theo tossed back.
“Definitely the firsties,” Daphne mumbled without looking up. Draco hummed in agreement.
Dinner had been excruciating. The Dark Lord insisted on a celebration to welcome the children of the Death Eaters home. Snape had delivered the invitation personally to the common room that morning, uncharacteristically kind as he explained. It was to be a celebration to symbolize the beginning of their induction into his service, the first step towards what would end in their being marked upon their completion of their schooling.
The four of them had skipped the Hogwarts Express, instead flooing directly to Malfoy Manor from the headmaster’s office to ensure they arrived on time. Blaise, the lucky bastard, had already left for the holiday in Italy.
Voldemort had held court from a chair so gaudy and ostentatious it more resembled a throne than anything Narcissa would deem appropriate for the Malfoy dining room. Bellatrix was on his right, hanging off his every word. His massive snake, vile creature that she was, had wrapped herself around the chair to his left.
A muggleborn hung suspended in the air over head overhead. Dolohov had boasted loudly to anyone who would listen how he’d caught the man in a forest somewhere along the Tyne River. Draco kept his eyes on his plate, doing his best to ignore the man twisting and writhing as Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters took turns hitting him with curse after curse. But nothing could drown out the cackles and cheers each time the man jerked or cried out in pain.
Draco had been tucked between his mother and father, closer to the middle than the head of the table. Draco could feel the resentment pouring off of Lucius in waves at being so far from the place of honor at the Dark Lord’s side. His mother had gripped his hand under the table, clinging to him so hard Draco had practically lost all feeling in his fingers. Across from him, Theo Nott sat next to his father, his face deathly pale and his eyes shuttered, his occlumency shields firmly in place. Draco knew that if he looked in a mirror he’d see the same thing reflected back.
Further down the table Pansy and Daphne sat side by side, flanked by their fathers. Daphne kept her head bowed, only speaking when directly addressed, while Pansy seemed completely at ease, chattering away and charming her dinner companions with lighthearted banter. But Draco could see her eyes narrow fractionally and her hand tighten on her wineglass every time a curse was fired.
Dinner had been almost over when a sharp spike of pain slammed into him without warning. He felt Theo’s eyes locked on his face as he took deliberately calming breaths, trying to ignore the harsh bite of pain that settled deep in his chest, searing straight through to the very depths of his soul.
She was here.
His soulmate was in the manor. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Draco drained the rest of his firewhiskey before banishing the glass and sinking further into the sofa. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing pale skin and the harsh black of the dark mark that stained his left arm. But it was the mark on his right that his eyes lingered on, the words that had been scrawled across his arm in a deep blue ink since he was born.
I always knew it was you.
Growing up, stories of soulmarks and soulmates felt like fairytales that his mother told him at bedtime. A beautiful girl would meet a handsome boy, they’d discover their shared first words tattooed on the others skin, and they’d live happily ever after. Draco was positive he’d meet his soulmate at Hogwarts, like his parents and godparents did. She’d of course be in Slytherin and a pureblood like him. He’d say the perfect thing and she’d fall madly in love with his charm. His mother had always smiled wistfully at him, cuddling him close, and listening with rapt attention when he laid out his grand plans for the future.
He’d approached his first year at Hogwarts with excitement, eager to meet the person he was destined to spend the rest of his life with. But his mark had stayed quiet.
The moment he had stepped through the barrier and onto the platform for the start of his second year, he felt the mark flare to life. His soulmate was there, they’d been on the same train and if all had gone well he’d have known who it was by the end of the night.
Hours later, long after the sorting had finished and dinner had been eaten, Draco lay wide awake in his bed in the dungeons. His mark still pulsed, but it was fainter now. Whoever his soulmate was, she hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin. She may still have been a pureblood, but that wouldn’t have been enough for Lucius Malfoy.
So Draco stayed away, not wanting to know who his soulmate was when he knew he could never truly be with her.
“Draco? You still with us?” Theo’s voice cut into his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.
Pansy’s eyes dropped knowingly to his arm and he fought against the urge to cover his soulmark. She’d been there when he’d finally learned who his soulmate was. Fifth Year, Inquisitiorial Squad. Umbridge had ordered them to haul Potter and his crew into her office for questioning.
Draco had held Weasley in a vice-like grip, keeping him well away from Pansy, not wanting Umbridge to learn the truth behind their soulmarks. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going when he’d shoved past the small, fairy-like blonde, her hair ticking his fingers. But when his skin brushed hers, his mark had flared so hot he was sure he’d see flames dancing across his arm if he looked down.
He tamped it down immediately. Luna Lovegood was so full of life and light. She was everything he wasn’t. She was far too good for him, and he would do everything in his power to keep the darkness encroaching on his life from tainting her.
Even if it meant denying his soulmark and staying as far away from her as possible.
After learning his father and Theo’s had both been among the Death Eaters trying to kill Potter and his reckless followers at the Ministry, the four of them and Blaise had consumed their entire stash of firewhisky. They’d only emerged from the dungeons when they’d learned that all five students had survived so they could see it for themselves in the Great Hall.
He’d kept watch over her from a distance after that, his eyes always finding her during meals in the Great Hall or in the stands during a quidditch match. The pull from his mark grew stronger. While he was sure she felt it too, she never made any indication that she knew it was him.
The words continued to burn and pulse against his skin like the beat of a heart, almost as if they were reaching out to find the missing half. The uncompleted bond was painful, but he’d had so many years of ignoring it that the typical dull ache it emitted had become somewhat soothing to him.
“She’s here,” he finally said. He glanced up to see his friends all looking at him without a trace of surprise in their gazes.
“What are you going to do?” Daphne asked.
“I can’t just leave her down there.”
“You can’t free her, Draco. All that accomplishes is putting all of the attention on you,” Pansy said, not unkindly, meeting his eyes steadily. He dropped his head, staring unseeingly at the floor.
“How much more attention could they give him? He’s already the darling of the Carrows eye, they fucking love him,” Theo added unhelpfully, barely even flinching when Draco’s arm shot out to strike his shoulder.
The group lapsed into silence once again, Theo summoning a new bottle of firewhisky and pouring another unhealthy pull.
“I think you should go see her.”
Daphne’s voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet like a knife. She continued, “I think you’d regret it forever if you didn’t and something terrible happened.” Her hand rubbed absently over her ankle where Draco knew her own soulmark had long since gone grey and dim.
Theo hummed thoughtfully, “Most everyone left after dinner, including You-Know-Who and our fathers. It’s likely only your mother and a handful of the newest recruits left skulking around. We could get down to the dungeons without being seen.”
Draco raised his head and met Theo’s eye, a small flicker of hope forming in his heart.
A single chime sounded from the large clock on the mantle when the four friends finally slipped from Draco’s room to make their way down to the entrance hall of the manor. The halls were empty, the only sounds the occasional soft crack of house elves moving about the manor, cleaning up the mess left from dinner and the revelry that had taken place after.
They said goodbye to the girls at the floo. Pansy had demanded she be able stay and help, but Draco was unwilling to risk dragging them down with him. Theo ushered them both into the flames, tossing the floo powder and calling out for Parkinson Place. When they’d disappeared in a swirl of green flame, he turned to Draco.
“Don’t even think about sending me away. You need a look out, mate,” Theo warned before Draco could even open his mouth to protest. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”
They crept silently down the stairs, not even daring to light their wands, and stopped short at the end of the hall where the heavy locked door to the cellar was located. Draco’s relief at finding it abandoned was cut short as they approached the door only to find it heavily warded and locked.
Theo lifted his wand, but Draco’s hand shot out to still his wrist, “If we dismantle the wards, they’ll know someone was here.” He glanced around the hallway again before calling out, “Tippi?”
With a soft crack, a small elf wearing a deep green tea towel as a toga materialized in front of them.
“Master Draco needs Tippi?” The tiny elf looked up at them with giant, shining brown eyes.
Draco crouched down to address the elf face to face. “Tippi, could you get me through the wards and down to the cellar without anyone noticing?”
Tippi nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on her toes. “Yes! I can take Master Draco! Does Master Theo need going too?”
Draco shook his head. “Just me. Theo’s going to stay here and keep an eye on things.”
Tippi’s eyes narrowed as she turned to Theo. “Master Theo, you bes a good boy. Don’t you go drawing on Tippi’s walls again!”
Draco choked back a laugh when Theo nodded solemnly. “You have my word Tippi. Not a spot of ink to be found anywhere.”
Tippi’s small fingers wrapped around Draco’s hand and with a pop they twisted away, only to reappear moments later in front of a small dark cell. The elf’s fingers snapped and balls of soft white floated floated up to hover near the low ceiling, illuminating the small figure sitting cross legged against the back wall.
Draco let out a sigh of relief as he scanned her up and down, not noting any injuries more serious than a scrape on her cheek and a bruise on her elbow. Unsure of what to say, he turned back to his elf.
“Tippi, can you go to the kitchens and get some food? And a pot of tea?”
Tippi rocked back on her heels, nodding vigorously. “I can get the food for the young Miss! I’s be right back with hot soup, tea, and biscuits!”
“That would be lovely,” Luna addressed the elf politely. “And thank you ever so much for the light, it was dreadfully dark in here.”
Tippi popped away, leaving Draco and Luna standing on opposite sides of the iron bars. She turned to him and his mouth went dry. After everything, what could he say to her here, locked in a cell in his manor’s cellar, that wouldn’t have her cowering away from him in fear? She just smiled up at him, eyes full of kindness and understanding, “I always knew it was you.”
At her simple acceptance of him, something in him finally broke. He fell to his knees with a great gasping sob. Luna’s small hand reached through the bars of her cell to stroke his hair tenderly, singing softly as she waited patiently for his tears to subside.
After a while he pulled back from the bars, scrubbing a hand across his face to look at her. The words fell from his mouth before he could even think about what to say. “I’m just so sorry.”
“You know, I never thought you truly meant the things you did,” she mused thoughtfully, her hand reaching out to entwine with his.
He looked at her curiously and she smiled. “It was your eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul, you know, and yours always looked like you were only putting on an act.”
She sat back on her heels and stared at the air around his head, “That and you’ve always had a swarm of nicklewrimps flitting around you. They’re only attracted to people with good souls, you know.
Draco shook his head and stared at her in confusion. He honestly had no clue how to respond to that.
A moment later, Tippi popped back with a large tray of food and tea. Draco stepped back, allowing the small elf to busy herself with ensuring Luna had enough to eat and drink. His eyes followed Luna’s every moment, drinking in every drop of her he could and basking in the feeling of his bond being content for the first time in his life.
He had just opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate on the nicklewrimps when she yawned so wide he worried she’d crack her skull in half. It had been well after one in the morning when he’d found his way down here, and she had to be exhausted after such a long day. He gestured to Tippi to clear the food while he set about conjuring a soft blanket and pillow for her to use to sleep.
He sat by the cell, holding her hand through the bars until she’d drifted off. And it was only when Tippi promised to stay, keep watch, and let him know the moment anyone stepped foot in the cellar that he was finally persuaded to leave. Letting Tippi take his hand, they popped back up the upstairs hallway to find Theo propped up against the wall, wand twirling in his hand and his eyes fixed on the staircase.
“Anything happen?” Draco asked as Theo pushed off the walls and followed him back up the stairs.
“Not a soul showed up. How is she?”
“She’s safe. For now at least. But I have no idea why they grabbed her or what they plan to do with her.”
“Probably hope to use her as bait, lure Potter out of hiding and all that. Reckless Gryffindor that he is, they figure he’ll do anything to save his friends. Which, they’re not wrong, that boy has a martyr complex that almost rivals your arrogance.” Theo neatly sidestepped the punch Draco threw his way before pulling to a stop in front of the floo.
“I won’t let them hurt her.” Draco said fiercely, one hand coming up to rub possessively at the mark on his arm.
“I’m with you, mate,” Theo said simply. “We’re all with you. Our side was chosen for us the moment that mark first flared to life. You know that.”
Draco smiled gratefully at his best mate, sending him off through the floo with a wave before he trudged upstairs to collapse in his own bed. He fell asleep that night with his left hand resting on his soulmark, feeling the soft warmth of a finally connected bond pulsing gently beneath his fingers.
A week later, as Draco stood in the drawing room, witness to Granger’s torture at the hands of his deranged aunt, he felt his the warmth of his soulmark flare once before stretching gently and easing into a soft pulse.
Despite the horrific scene in front of him he drew a sigh of relief. She was free and she was safe.
With her out of reach to use as leverage against him, there was nothing stopping him from standing up and fighting back. A feral grin split his face as his wand snapped up and he shot a curse at his aunt at the same moment Potter and Weasley burst through the door.
He’d chosen his side. And it would always be by her.