The Island
Narcissa takes him to the beach house within a day. She leaves him there, a kiss and a promise to return with his friends as soon as she takes care of his father.
Part of him wants her to kill Lucius. The majority prays to Salazar that she can find a way to save him. It didn’t matter what way she used, what dark methods she had to dig up, anything would be worth it if they could fix him. If they could keep his father from the dark ways, maybe there was hope for everyone else.
At the end of the day, and yes the day was as fucked as his sense of humor, Lucius is still his Dad. The idiot who once fell out of a tree trying to get Draco when he wanted an apple. The moron who almost burned down the kitchen the time he thought he forgot Narcissa’s birthday, only to realize it was the next day and take her off to a different country until the repairs were done. The stupid man who took Draco swimming during a snow storm despite Narcissa forbidding it.
The man that tied him to a wall and beat him senseless, only to cry himself to sleep for the whole ordeal.
He wants to hate him, he does hate him, but damn if he can’t stop remembering softer, simpler times.
Draco ignores the fact that he hasn’t been able to feel anything since Snape brought him back from the pensive. He flat out refuses to acknowledge that he’s at a breaking point because if he does that…
The island is stunning, just like it had been when he was little, Baia do Sancho off the coast of Brazil. Full of white beaches and clear waters that Draco once liked to watch fishes swim in. They owned a part of it, big enough for a house, a private beach, and land to hide if one of them needed to use some more….exaggerated magic.
He’s fourteen, alone with his cat, and in paradise. Maybe he could just stay here forever. Maybe if he begged enough, mother wouldn’t force him back into the shit show that his world has become, and maybe the guilt of leaving Harry to die wouldn’t be that bad after all.
Draco honestly expects to feel a lot worse when he realizes Harry is being abused and he was saved. It should be the other way around. Harry should be saved, he deserved it more, needed it more than Draco did. But Draco is still on the fucking island.
House elves come and go. The first day they leave fruit and plates of his favorite foods. They urge him to eat, urge him to shower, urge him to sleep.
He doesn’t.
Draco stays perched on the back porch, watching the water and only moving when someone- probably Sisily- forces him to sit down. A blanket is thrown over his shoulders. An elf starts a fire nearby. Draco ignores them. LuLu stays by his side, on a little chair of her own. Sometimes he feels her weight on his lap, but eventually he can ignore that too.
See, the cool thing about watching water is that it’s always changing. When he gets there at five in the afternoon the first day, he gets to see the sunset over a calm beach. Water is blue, clear, or green. He’d always known that. But that evening the water was red. Fading into purple, some pink at the very edges. Where the sun disappeared into the sea, it was burning yellow.
During the night it seems black, but it’s really a dark navy. Giant fish jump out and try to reach the moon. It’s full….he wonders if Lupin is doing okay. The sea winks at him like some type of dark abyss. He doesn’t notice the chill until another blanket is added.
On the first morning the sky is periwinkle, soft like a hug from his mother. It turns the sea into an even soft blue he wants to drown in. As the sun rises he can see the other islands in the distance. He ignores them.
The second afternoon Draco finds himself staring blankly into the water, there’s a loud whoosh and an elf appears to tell him people are there. He doesn’t register who it is until very familiar arms lift him out of his beach chair and carry him to the living room.
“You’re lucky the elves thought to cast protection charms, you hate being sunburnt.”
Draco knows he should shrug or at least try to respond, but he still can’t figure out who the familiar arms belong to.
“How long has he been out there?” A different voice whispers. Lighter, friendly, comforting. He knows the voices, if only he could place them.
“Since he arrived, Miss Parkinson.”
“What?!” The voice nearest asks. He’s sat on the couch, in the back of his mind he notes that it is slightly more comfortable than his chair.
Two faces come into view. One dark and flawless, hair short yet still curling, eyes narrowed, lips in a thin frown. Draco doesn’t care for the frown on the boy, it makes him feel something and he really can’t handle that right now, thanks. The other is pale with pink dusted cheeks, long hair tied into a bun, eyes wide and scared, teeth biting into a lower pale lip. Draco doesn’t like that either, why are they upset? Doesn’t she know that if you bite your lip it can bleed? No one likes a bleeding lip.
A few seconds pass and it’s then that he realizes who is staring at him. As soon as recognition hits his eyes they’re pulling him in for a hug.
“Pans...Blaise…”
He wants to wince at his voice but he doesn’t have the energy to, much less to clear his throat and make it seem like he hadn’t been staring into nothing for the past two days. Has it been two days? He hopes it’s only been two days. Fuck, what if it’s actually been two weeks and his mother-
“Your mother sent us here to check on you...she gave us a letter, but we didn’t want to intrude.” Blaise mummers.
“Give it to me”
Pans shakes her head, her hair feels nice on his arms. Like a faint tickle that he doesn’t feel an urge to scratch. “Not until you’ve eaten.”
“And slept.”
“And showered, I adore you but you stink, love.”
He can’t smell it between the two of them. Blaise’s sandalwood and Pansy’s jasmine take over his senses and he’s completely fine with that. But then he catches hints of sweat and the madness of it all sends him laughing straight into his friends.
Really! His mother could be dying, no one knows what the fuck is happening to his father, and they’re worried about his smell?!
Apparently laughing is not the right move, as he’s quite literally picked up and forced into a bath. Blaise stays in the room with him, sitting and petting LuLu on a bench by the tub while an elf- he’s really got to learn their names, Hadbey, maybe?- washes his hair and chest. Draco finishes the rest like some weird spell had come over him, Blaise promises not to look but once a towel is wrapped around Draco’s waist, he does.
“Oh, chéri….”
Eyes linger over every scar, every cut, every bullshit thing he had endured the past few years. Draco rolls his eyes, “Did your mother take you to France after the blow up?”
Blaise doesn’t answer, but he does step closer and trail his fingertips over the lines on Draco’s chest. Those hands don’t stop even when Draco starts to shiver and get goosebumps, and then he’s in Blaise’s arms against a soft silk shirt that badly hides the muscles underneath.
“She did, take me to France I mean. She hasn't gotten a new husband yet, I think the whole blood contract thing is getting to her, but she’s happy I have people to protect me, even if she did curse me in every language I know, and a few I don’t.”
That draws a snort out of Draco. Off hand he knows most the languages Blaise knows, all the pure bloods learn the basics. English, French, Italian, Spanish and German. Some of them went further, he and Pansy both know Latin and Portuguese. Some of his cousins know Japanese and Chinese, Hebrew and Korean. When your family has businesses and relatives all over the world you just pick up on things. Language and etiquette was just a part of life. Or it had been before he turned eleven.
Some time during his thoughts he’d managed to get dressed. When he came back to his head Blaise was leading him down the grand staircase to the dining room. Without his shoes it feel weird, but then again he wasn’t being abused like his parents probably were, so why did shoes matter?
Pansy waits for them, arguing softly with Sisily over tarts.
“I’m telling you,” his friend is saying, “lemon tarts are his favorite!”
“And Sisily does not mean to be being disrespectful, but Master Draco be loving lemon and chocolate. Miss Pansy be loving strawberry and Mister Blaise be loving turtle and caramel. That is why we put them all out, ma’am.”
Pansy huffs, but does pop a tart in her mouth, “You’re very kind, Sisily, but Draco needs more love and special treatment than Blaise and I.”
“Blaise needs just as much attention, thank you very much.”
Draco snorts beside his friend, quickly taking a seat before Pansy can react. She takes his hand, glaring at Blaise as he sits beside her. They don’t bother fussing at LuLu for hopping onto her own chair.
“No he does not.”
He can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, “Thank you, Sisily, for all of us.”
The elf bows deeply, vanishing with a crack and a faint smile.
This dining room is very different from the one at the Manor. It’s smaller, filled with plants and windows that overlook the sea. The table itself is round, feels closer and more like something a family would eat at. Instead of thirty chairs there are only five. Draco likes it more, not that his personal taste has much of an effect on his home back in England.
“Eat, Draco.”
Food is before him, he doesn’t feel hungry but three sets of eyes stare at him so he picks up his fork.
The meal is quiet but comfortable, no one asks any questions, no one stares too long. Blaise tells them about his two day adventure in Paris, his mother’s summer home that they escaped to just encase Narcissa got pissed and came for them. Mrs. Zabini didn’t ask anything, just made sure he was being safe. His punishment was a weekend with no English, but at least his French was sounding a lot better.
Pansy had gotten an interrogation that lasted all of ten minutes before her mother kindly reminded her father that the Malfoy family was important, and that she should be honored to be so close to Draco.
“Imagine thinking you two brats are honorable….”
Draco laughs.
They take him upstairs after dessert, where Pansy consumed at least ten strawberry tarts and Blaise an equal amount of turtle and caramel ones. Since childhood the three had always come to this house during the summer. Even though it’s been a few years, they can still lead him directly to his usual room. Only they don’t leave this time.
Pansy brings lemon tarts with her, Blaise changes in a different room and then they’re all in pajamas, laying on Draco’s king sized bed, eating tarts and watching some book Blaise brought that no one is really paying attention to. LuLu works her way into the middle of Pansy and Draco, curling up in a small ball like always. A small hand cards through his hair, a big hand rubs his back, a ball of warmth purs on his stomach.
Draco falls asleep.
My Darling Dragon,
Do not be alarmed. Taking care of your father is proving harder than I expected. We’ve called in an old friend of mine, a mind healer. Apparently there is a connection between the addition to his mark and why his memories are so mismatched. He is no longer dangerous as our dear snake and I have removed his wand, but he does call for us in his sleep. I am glad to have sent you away, witnessing him like this is heartbreaking at best.
I cannot condone what he has done to you, curse or not. You are my child first and foremost and though I remain collected, I assure you the rage burning in me every time I lay my eyes on him nearly drags me to dangerous actions, hence the need for help. I adore you more than I pity him, and though I’m sure we both hope for the best, should the worst happen, understand that you will be at the front of my mind.
This being said, I need to make it very clear that the darkness that has taken hold of this family has run its course. I will not allow it to ruin you as it has ruined your father. We will speak more once I am able to join you in person, until then rest assured that I am safe, your father is healing, and our friendly snake is here to keep a watchful eye over us both.
I love you, and will be with you shortly,
Mother,
My friends have joined me here, I am no longer in despair as they refuse to leave my side even as I write this letter. They keep me fed, well rested, and one of them, I won’t name names of course, forced us out into the water this morning. It feels as though I am a child again, for this I am thankful.
Truly I wish to know more of the occurrences troubling you and father. I’m sure our friendly snake is taking good care of you, but I long to see him, or you, just to know that the safety you speak of is certain. Correct as always, I do wish for the best, but what is done cannot be undone. My emotions on the matter are not as prominent as the logical thoughts that remind me of how important he is to our family. Should, as you said, worse come to worst, I can only hope we find a way to overcome it, whether that be two or three of us.
I love you more and wish to see you as soon as time allows it,
My Darling Dragon,
Soon we will be together as we once were. Until then stay strong. If not for yourself, then for your friends. If not for your friends then for me, your family.
We are Slytherins through and through. We are not weak, we will use our cunning to our advantage, even if it comes with a cost to others. Remember this as you wait for more.
I love you most,
Two months pass on the island, they’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. In the morning Pansy will wake them all up and demand they go down to the water, it usually takes at least ten minutes before Blasie and Draco cave, but they always do. LuLu stays behind, one afternoon in the water proving to be the one thing she hates more than being outside.
It shows in their skin, Pansy developing a nice tan and light freckles breaking out on Draco’s almost not ghostly cheeks. Blaise makes fun of them for getting burned, they go inside.
Breakfast is always light, fruits and toast, sometimes eggs and coffee. They’ll change it up from there, sometimes homework, sometimes experimental brewing in the cauldron on the second floor, sometimes running just to see who can last the longest, sometimes laying around and doing their own things. Blaise will read, Pansy will paint, and Draco will play piano or mess around with LuLu. He hasn’t been alone since they arrived, and he finds he doesn’t mind it anymore.
Blaise drags them into town during the evenings, sometimes shopping, other times to make fun of the weird things in muggle shops, sometimes to libraries that Pansy and Draco get bored of within five seconds.
At night they eat a small dinner then shower and lay in bed. Sometimes they go night swimming in the ocean or the pool, sometimes they watch books, sometimes they play with magic. Draco’s transfiguration has gotten a lot better this summer, and no one is stupid enough to try him for underage practice.
They’re returning from an afternoon of water magic when he sees her. Leaning against the rails in a pale green sundress, hair blowing in the wind, Sisily by her side with a wide smile.
“Mother!”
She draws all three of them in for a hug as soon as their feet hit the porch steps.
“Hello, darlings. It’s a bit hot outside, isn’t it?”
They go in, Sisily makes tea, Draco takes his place on the couch between his friends, LuLu protectively in his lap. Narcissa sits opposite to them. No one speaks for the longest time, he has this unshakable urge to reach out and hug her again, to sit next to her, or in her lap like he did when he was little. Just to be close.
Narcissa raises her tea cup.
“I’m assuming Draco told you all what happened the night of your visit? It’s okay to be honest, he’d be an idiot to try and keep secrets from you two at this point.”
Blaise and Pansy nod, they don’t drink their tea.
“Good. What Lucius has done is unforgivable, I’m ashamed to let it get this far, but…. Well. Allow me to start from the beginning.”
“After Snape and I sent Draco away, he started experimenting on Lucius. You all know my husband has the Dark Mark, it was forced on him at a young age. But his is unlike the others I’ve seen, there is a flower-“ She swallows- “a narcissus flower. I won’t divulge the importance of that, you all are smart children, you can figure it out. It twists with the serpent and forms a crown on the skull. Severus and I each had our own ideas about it, but only after we spoke to a mind healer did we figure it out.”
“The Dark Lord placed a sort of spell on him, a form of the Imperius Curse, but one that brings up past memories so the person in question has no idea of the reality around them until much later. It is meant to confuse and torture the effected’s mind to insanity. Severus says it’s called imperium summa .”
Pansy gasps, “The curse of Total Control?!”
“Yes,” Narcissa raises an eyebrow, no doubt where Draco got that annoying trait, “But I’m curious as to how a child knows about it?”
Pansy has the decency to look slightly ashamed, “My father came across it in a case a few years ago when a man murdered his wife. The curse is said to deactivate during the caster’s death, though the whole point of it is to drive the victims to suicide at the horrors of their own actions. Memories from their past are enough to act as time blocks, even if the memories aren’t strong. When they are powerful, it’s said to make the curse work faster. Usually it takes years to activate….”
Narcissa nods approvingly, “You’re correct, Pansy dear, so there are some things to fill out. Firstly, Draco, your father is recovering right now from the removal. It was painful, and he has suffered, but Snape and a few….friendly people managed to rid him of the flower.”
“What happened?” Draco demands, “He tortured me, mother, I deserve the full truth.”
Narcissa takes a long sip of tea before casually saying, “Oh, we brought him to the brink of death a few dozen times.”
All three of them choke on absolutely nothing.
“On the last try we left him dead for exactly one minute and then brought him back, positively ruined my new plans for the dungeons.”
Draco gapes at her, Blaise and Pansy similar pictures beside him. “You- You killed him?!”
“We brought him back.” Is the dignified response.
Her words don’t change the amused look growing on Draco’s face.
“He’s fine, darlings. Recovering like death was never even an option in the first place, cocky bastard.”
“Mother!”
Narcissa rolls her eyes, taking another sip of tea before recrossing her legs. “We have more important things to discuss than me killing your father.”
“I’d like to disagree-“
“Listen to me.” She growls, “Pansy said it herself, the curse vanishes after death, the Dark Lord gave the curse to your father. Do you know what this means? The Dark Lord is alive!”
His friends suck in air beside him, Draco has to bite his tongue to keep from saying ‘I could’ve told you that’.
“He accelerated the curse on your father, he’s gathering forces, you and all your friends and peers and not safe!”
Pansy’s death grip on his hand is starting to hurt but it’s nothing compared to the grip Blaise has. Narcissa suddenly looks tired, worn down, afraid.
“What about our families?” Blaise asks quietly.
He doesn’t get a reply.
The air in the room filters out around his mother’s silence. And then she sighs.
“You all have sworn a contract, correct?”
Draco nods, not trusting his friends after last time.
“Does it forbid you from speaking of secrets?”
“Yes. If any of us try to tell something we’re not meant to, our mouths are sewn shut until one of us can fix it.”
“Can you write anything?”
“No.”
Narcissa looks around the room, and then to all their growing concerns, casts several spells Draco knows are meant to keep voices from listening. Like locking them all in the tiny room and not letting a single syllable out.
“I don’t have long and I cannot explain fully, but you all must be careful. Blaise, your mother is working with me to protect the pureblood children. We’ve gone over several ideas. We’re trying to warn others we know want no part of the war, those who want to fight for the side of the light. It is not as black and white as history would have you believe. For now, when you go to school this year, distance yourself from those who speak highly of the Dark Lord. You must be safe, you cannot be accused, and you must be smart about every move you make.”
Since Blaise and Pansy are probably too busy figuring out what the fuck is going on, Draco is the one to ask what they’re all thinking. “I thought you were on the Dark Lord’s side?”
Never in his life had he made his mother angry. Annoyed? Of course. Frustrated? That’s a given. Sad? Due to recent events, likely. But never in his whole life has he seen the dark look that crosses her face directed at him.
“That... thing is the worst type of monster. He treats his allies like idle toys, and I’d sooner die than hand my child over to the fate most of my family suffered. They did not find glory with him, they found insanity and pain. Those who fought with him tell lies about who he was, about what he did. Do you know the fate of a Death Eater? It is to be tortured into complete submission and humiliated for the rest of your life. We were children when we were dragged into this disaster, and I will not allow my children to be forced into it again.”