Aftermath
Draco is going to murder him.
For real this time.
He watches the dragon, with Harry’s dumb self barely visable on her back, fly to the sky and grips his friends’ hands tighter. He wants to scream or cry or do something because Harry is gone and he can’t see him, which means he can’t protect him and in all his years he never thought a dragon would be the thing to best his efforts.
Creepy teachers with a thirst for blood? Maybe. Voldemort? Probably. Harry’s own stupidity? Definitely.
But not a fucking dragon.
He doesn’t let go of Pansy and Blaise’s hands until the dragon is by her nest and when he spots Harry smiling….by Merlin he’s going to strangle him.
“Darling….” Pansy whispers. “He’s okay...but our hands might not be.”
Draco looks down and sure enough, both of their hands have a bit of blood on them from his fingernails. He curses, grabs his wand and casts a quick episkey. He wishes Harry had something to heal himself, like a little box with magical ointment or something to deal with any of the injuries he usually ends up with.
That gives Draco an idea….McGonagall’s words come to mind. What did she say? Something useful for his friends?
He fully intends to dive into that later. But for now, he follows his friends back to the Gang’s Room where Ron and Hermione are already waiting for them.
When Draco closes the door, he sees that Ron has the same finger-nail shaped marks on his hand so he casts another episkey and turns to Hermione.
“Are you okay?”
“Are you?” She sniffs. “I thought he was going to die…”
“Well, I think that ten times a year and he’s still here, isn’t he?”
Draco only says it to make her feel better, but when Harry walks through the door with a big smile the thought dies in his anger. He turns, marches straight up to the boy, fully prepared to hit him, but catches the front of his robes instead.
“You. Are. A. Fucking. Nightmare! Are you trying to die?! What the hell were you thinking?! Talking to a dragon is one thing, but disappearing on her back for a fucking hour is different, you asshole! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Do you have any idea how worried we were?! Do you even care?!”
Harry’s smile dims, he grasps Draco’s hand, still bunched up on the front of his shirt.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would get that bad...she was angry, she thought we had taken her children, Draco. And I didn’t die, right? So it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” Draco shouts. “You have to stop doing this! Do you understand me?! No more near-death experiences!”
Harry doesn’t say anything so Draco shakes him. “Promise me, you fucker. No more nearly dying.”
The boy takes a second to look around the room, meeting faces behind Draco that are just as furious. Then he tightens his hold on Draco’s hand. “I promise I will not actively try to die.”
“That’s not what I-”
“It’s the best I can do.” Harry says quietly. “The past years have kinda proven that I can’t exactly stay away from trouble, but I can try not to die, right? I can’t control what happens to me, but I can control myself and I am here, alive, and promising you that I will try to stay that way. But trying is the best I can do.”
Draco deflates at that because Harry is right. Year after year they’re stuck in a different mess, and Harry has a track record for staying alive, which is the best Draco can ask for. So he lets go of Harry’s robes and steps back so Hermione can hug her friend. Blaise squeezes his hand, it’s not nearly as comforting as Harry had been, but they don’t have time to dwell on that. Dinner will be starting soon, and he still needs to see Fleur.
Draco adds talking to Pomfrey about his Transfiguration idea to his list of Things to Do as he follows his friends out the door. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could walk with the Gryffindors. Stay close to Harry, agree with Hermione on whatever she’s saying, joke with Ron until the bloke makes him laugh. Pansy could rave about her dress, Blaise and Hermione could talk about his Death Garden.
He wants so badly to be near them, but he can’t. Not yet.
So he sits at his own table until the Beauxbatons arrive and he can run to Fleur. Literally run to her, dislodge LuLu from his lap and barely contain his sprint. He doesn’t give a shit about what others think of him, that’s his fucking family that nearly died today. Let them point, or laugh, or do whatever, he is going to quickly walk to Fleur and hug her close with the entire fucking school watching.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
Fleur laughs. “I scared the shit out of myself. Madam was quite angry.”
“She should be! You all nearly died!”
Draco wants to say more but Luna comes running up to them, throwing herself into Fleur’s arms. He can’t stop himself from rubbing his cousin’s back.
Fleur cradles her gently, swearing that she’s fine to both of them, and then lets Draco pull the girls to his table.
None of them feel like eating, so they go back to the dorm and pile into his and Blaise’s room.
LuLu sits on his lap, providing real comfort as the others talk around him. They have no idea what the next task is going to be, he still hasn’t started on his homework for the weekend, but he can do all of that tomorrow.
For now he’s going to listen in on the conversations around him.
Pansy raves about how glorious Fleur looked in her chariot, Blaise and Luna talk about some weird plant Draco can’t bother to pay attention to. It’s calming in a strange way. Knowing that despite all the danger they regularly face, they can still have conversations about semi-normal things.
But, he did promise to meet Harry in the Gang’s Room tonight for the full explanation, so at a quarter to midnight he excuses himself to “take a shower”. Blaise and Pansy roll their eyes, but they don’t stop him from carrying LuLu out of the room.
Harry is, of course, waiting for him.
“I’m sorry-“
“You already apologized.”
“I know,” Harry rakes a hand through his hair. “But it wasn’t enough was it? I mean, just last week you told me how much I mean to people and I guess my little show with Auksas was probably a big middle finger to your face and I didn’t mean it like that and I just, I need you to know that I didn’t mean for it to turn out like that but-“
Draco shifts LuLu to his left arm so he can grab Harry with his right arm. Their fingers link, there’s something significant about that, he’s sure, but they don’t have time right now. Draco never has time anymore.
“Slow down. I know you didn’t mean it like that, you just have this really infuriating hero complex. You have to save everyone, but in doing that you’ve saved a lot of people that are important to me.”
“Saved people?” Harry scoffs, “I’m not a hero, I haven’t saved anyone-“
“First year. You literally saved the entire school, and all your sneaking around got me involved so I guess you saved me too. Second year, you not only saved the entire school again, but you literally stopped Riddle from killing Ginny. Third year, you saved Sirius. And Remus. And Pansy and Blaise from whatever fucked up fate they would’ve had if they didn’t become your friend. Because of that little stunt, my mother got pulled into all this shit, so you probably saved her, my father, and me all over again. This year you saved Geia, and probably Cedric with that broom bullshit- don’t lie to me I’d know that Firebolt anywhere. You have a hero complex Harry, and that’s not a bad thing….it just means frequent annoying brushes with death.”
Harry lets out a laugh, indulging LuLu in a few scratches without letting go of Draco’s hand.
“So you’re not mad?”
“Oh I’m still pissed,” Harry’s face falls, “But I’m not pissed at you. I’m pissed at the people who keep trying to kill you, dragon included. I don’t even know who the hell Auksas is yet-“
“Yeah….I guess I do have a lot to explain…but can you wait until Sirius and Remus are here? You can yell at me together as long as you support me when I tell them about Geia.”
Draco’s eyes widen, LuLu twists in his arm to nuzzle into his chest right where his heart has stopped beating. “Oh fuck...we haven’t told them, have we?”
“Nope. But hey,” Harry smiles, “Look on the bright side, your mum might not be there.”
Draco doesn’t even want to think about his mother’s reaction. He’d barely managed to convince Winky that she didn’t need to know about it in their monthly reports. Something about her “being under a lot of stress” and “You’ve met her, Winky, she’s not dangerous!” but he’s a little fuzzy on the details.
Unfortunately, his mother is there. Squished right between two worried cousins with a stone face.
He’s so not looking forward to this.
“Are you okay? I mean you look okay, so I’m assuming that you didn’t get eaten unless this is Draco’s fucked idea of a joke-”
“Sirius!” A smack sounds from the fire. “No cussing in front of the kids!”
“Please, Narcissa, Harry is more important than him. (“Hey!”) Are you alright? Was it scary? They won’t release the papers until tomorrow, but we’ve been so worried!”
“I’m fine!” Harry tries not to laugh. Draco squeezes his hand harder as a warning, he’d prefer it if Sirius refrained from killing him. That’s Draco’s job, thanks. “Really! All good here, though I did think Draco was going to murder me for a second there.”
“I’m still thinking about it, honestly.”
Harry shoots him a look, but they both know Draco couldn’t hurt him. Badly, that is. No one ever said the Boy Who Lived needs legs, or fingers, or even an unbruised nose for that matter.
Narcissa is instantly on his side, Sirius too. Both glaring at Harry but it’s Remus who sighs and asked what happened.
And, because the adults weren’t worried enough as is, they now can never trust Harry again.
“You….” Sirius takes a deep breath. “You saved the snake that tried to kill you?”
Harry shrugs, “She’s cool. Her name is Geia.”
Draco is so glad his mother can’t jump through the fireplace. She looks furious, but holds her tongue as Harry provides the full explanation.
His mother has known about Harry, Hermione and Ron for a few months now, thanks to Veritaserum and chocolate bribery. She also knew about Pansy and Blaise because Belle Zabini is currently her right-hand woman and Mrs. Parkinson was the first person to join her little list, so there’s really no surprise to finding out that the six of them are friends.
There is surprise in using the Chamber as a meeting spot.
“The Chamber of Secrets?! You couldn’t think of a single better place?!” Sirius nearly screams.
Harry bothers to look sheepish this time, “We didn’t end up actually using it. It was kinda, um, already in use?”
Draco can see a blood vessel in Remus’s forehead trying to burst through the fire, but it’s nothing compared to the sheer annoyance radiating from his mother as Harry recounts his plan with Geia. She does calm down after he gives her half of a reason, mentioning how Geia would make for a great ally in a war to come, and that she never actually hurt them, Riddle just used her to hurt people. Completely different by Harry’s standards.
He tells them about the group having no clue what the first task was going to be, but throwing themselves into research, about Hermione and Draco finding the stupid picture of Greek Geia, and the Basilisk's history.
“She taught me about dragons that night, but not like a book teaches. She showed me. I learned how to speak from her memories, and the words that my ancestors used…”
Harry tells them about running into Rita Seeker (Sirius agrees that she’s the absolute worst) and how the woman infuriated him, which is partly why he called Pansy down to the pitch. Draco has to vouch that yes, Harry really did do that and yep, ‘Potter Stinks’ right across his back.
When Harry finally gets to the parts Draco didn’t understand he sits up straighter, pulling Harry’s hand closer so he can squeeze it fully.
“Geia, the Basilisk, told me that dragons rarely have friends. Especially human ones. They know humans as the selfish beings who take, steal, and ruin whatever magic is left in the world. So she told me from the start, to even get a dragon to listen you must tell them that you are their friend. When I spoke those words, she knew I could Speak, I was assuring her that I wasn’t going to hurt her, and I was begging her to listen to what I had to say. It worked...kinda…”
And okay, Draco gets it. If some asshole had fucked with his family, he’d have to hurt them. He sees the gears turning in his mother’s mind, for multiple reasons because his mother, though extremely liberal and anti-Riddle, is still very interested in blood relations and family history. For a second Draco thinks she knows something, but then she just sighs.
“You need to be more careful.” Sirius says gently. “What if you got hurt? Huh? What would we do then? You still have to come live with us one day...meet Sissy in person...try Remus’s chocolate cake….”
Remus smiles, “And what about Draco? He’s spent four years trying to keep you safe, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you weren’t here anymore.”
“Hey! I know exactly what I would do!”
He ignores the snort from everyone in the room. Narcissa badly hides hers, “And what would you do?”
“Well, for starters I’d kidnap Hermione and the two of us would take a long vacation in Bora Bora.”
They all laugh, but they know it isn’t true. If it was true, Draco wouldn’t be holding onto Harry’s hand so tightly, and he wouldn't be thinking of how perfect it would be to see Harry smiling with friends and family behind a lop-sided cake.
“I could always just haunt you from a beach.”
Draco raises an eyebrow, “Obviously.”
The very next morning Draco drags himself out of bed. Sirius and Harry always stay up far too late talking, and he’s more tired than he has a right to be, but he needs to talk to Pomfrey. As soon as humanly possible.
Which means waiting outside the Hospital Wing door for her office hours to begin. At exactly eight on the dot, the doors bounce open and Draco gets to beam in the face of a slightly concerned Pomfrey.
“Mister Malfoy….” Is that suspicion in her voice or is she just happy to see him? “To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you injured?”
“About that, professor, I have a few questions for you, if you’d be so inclined.”
She raises one eyebrow. “You do realize I run a Hospital here, don’t you? Whatever questions you have could be answered in a letter that wouldn’t waste my time from potential hurt students-”
“See,” Draco takes a step forward, “That’s the thing. I need your help with healing.”
“Healing?”
Draco nods. “Yes. Healing. I have a few, um, friends, who have an uncanny ability to get hurt.”
She doesn’t look impressed.
“I know the basics, of course, but I need to know more. Professor McGonagall gave us a project for the end of the year. She told me to make something that could help me and my friends, so I’ve decided to make some sort of healing contraption, but I don’t know how to make healing potions or slaves, I barely know the spells, and all projects have to be tested so either you help me or I’ll do it anyways and you’ll end up with several test subjects in your beds-”
Pomfrey laughs. “Please, Malfoy, if you want to learn so badly it’s going to take more than a poorly planned threat. Come with me.”
Draco follows her past the beds, past the intensive care area, past the potions wall, and her office. All the way to what he always assumed was a storage wall, for clothes, bed sheets, whatever else hospital wings might need. Pomfrey throws open one of the long wooden doors and reaches inside.
She pulls out a weirdly life-like doll, with eyes and fingernails, skin deathly pale, and then, in one fluid quick motion, brings her wand down. Draco’s confused at first, but then he realizes that the doll is bleeding. Like blood pouring from a gash, sputtering out on his clothes, getting all over the floor bleeding.
“Alright, Malfoy. Your patient comes to you with a fatal cut, what do you do?”
He takes out his wand, already mummering tergeo. Once he can see the rather unnecessarily large gash in the doll’s arm, he says prohibere and traces it with his wand. Then he casts purus to finish up. All that’s left is to wrap it with bandages for when the spells weaken, but he doesn't know where those are so he just stands back and looks at the probably sadistic doctor.
Pomfrey is fucking smiling, like there’s not blood on his previously spotless uniform. Blaise is gonna freak when he sees it.
“Very good. You do know the basics, I see, but I’d like to know your thought process.”
Draco wants to argue, she’s nearly asking for it, but he also really needs her to help him. So, he puts his wand away.
“Well, the first thing I like to do with cuts is to stop the bleeding, but I can’t stop it if I can’t see where it’s coming from. Hence the tergeo, which I know isn’t an actual medical spell, but it’s always worked for me, and once the bleeding is stopped I generally like to disinfect, just encase. I could vanish the scar completely, but the wound hasn’t been assessed for any magical traces. Since the cut was done by a wand, it’s possible that forcing the wound away would only make it worse. The only thing left is to wrap the wound until we can give it a full look over.”
Pomfrey nods, “I’m impressed, Mister Malfoy.”
“Please, call me Draco.”
“And you will call me Poppy during our sessions.”
“Our sessions?”
Pomfrey is already shoving the doll back into the closet, “You did say you want to learn to heal? Or did I mishear you?”
“No ma’am! I just thought-”
“Listen, my boy, if you weren’t serious about learning you wouldn’t have healed good ol’ Frankie. Usually when people come to ask me that, they faint at the sight of blood or waste my time. You’ve not only healed Frankie, but given him extra care that most beginners don’t think of. Not to mention that you did it all in under a minute.” Draco follows her to her desk, she whips out a pen and some sort of schedule. “You have either a talent or enough practice to make this worth it. So name your time, Draco, I do believe you’ve earned it.”
Oh. Well. That’s easy, he guesses.
“My only free period is Wednesday after lunch.”
“Very well, bring me a list of things you need for your project Wednesday and we’ll look into it, though I do need to warn you. I’ll be doing more than teaching you ‘the basics’. No healer is ever content with just episkey.”
Draco would once again love to argue, but he can’t. She’s right, sometimes episkey isn’t enough.
Pomfrey dismisses him with a flick of her hand, and since convincing her took less time than he thought it would, he thinks about having tea with Dumbledore. They haven’t spoken much, and seeing that two other headmasters are with him at all times it wouldn’t be the wisest decision on his part, so he squishes that down and starts making his way to Snape’s room.
He rounds one corner before he realizes footsteps are trailing after him.
Blaise and Pansy are still sleeping, along with Fleur and Luna. They’d all fallen out sometime while he was out with Harry, and it could be one of his morons, but they would’ve just dragged him to some corridor by now. He can’t really think of anyone else that would bother following him instead of calling out his name, but then an arm is around his shoulders.
Unfortunately, it’s someone he’s not overly familiar with.
“Malfoy!” Theodore Nott smiles, then a little quieter, “Any reason why that Hufflepuff is following you?”
Call him a coward, but Draco has been avoiding this asshole since first fucking year.
Not because he’s weird, or stupid, or overly annoying, but because he’s always been ridiculously attractive. Boyish honey-blonde curls, perfect skin even if a potion has just exploded in his face, long lashes and these stunning blue eyes that remind Draco of the oceans surrounding Malfoy Island. At first the mini-heart attacks he had every time Nott entered the room felt like a curse, but Draco’s also been in close contact with Harry’s stupid curls, that are prettier if he’s being honest. Plus, no one has the effect that Harry has on him.
So, instead of freaking out like a first year, Draco shrugs the arm off him.
“A Huffle…”
They walk for a bit, other students are beginning to drag themselves to breakfast, and after a few minutes of an awkward silence, Nott pulls him into a classroom and closes the door behind him.
Draco’s wand is out and pointing, but Nott just makes a face.
“None of that, please. It’s a little early to be fighting, I haven’t even had my morning tea yet.”
“Then why drag me in here? Do you have a problem?”
“Yes, actually.” Nott perches on the side of a desk, “But not one that requires wands. I just want to know why Crabbe and Goyle are permanently my problem now.”
His wand would fall right out of hand if he wasn’t so used to Harry doing shit like this.
“Excuse me?”
Nott brushes some of those thick blonde curls away from his eyes. “Oh, come off it. I’ve had my own room for years, and then, very suddenly might I add, they’re dumped on me? They used to follow you around like dogs so I just assumed it was a little fight or something. Thought it’d be over before the games started, but it’s been nearly three months and I still wake up to the smell of Goyle’s farts?”
Those were awful. Blaise keeps their room filled with candles and plants, even LuLu’s litter box doesn’t smell bad. When he left this morning it actually smelled faintly of fresh rain.
“Invest in candles, I know you have the money for it.”
“True, but I wouldn’t have to invest in them if you called off your muts. I am on your side, you know.”
Draco’s mouth is suddenly very dry. Parched like the fucking desert. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re mad if you thought I wouldn’t notice. Shoving your pets off on me, glancing after Cedric and Potter. Hell, your entire ‘rivalry’ with Potter is a sham in itself.”
Okay, the Cedric part is probably the most confusing, so he means it this time. “No, seriously I don’t-”
“You’re gay, Malfoy! It’s rather obvious, what with how you stare at Quidditch boys’ asses and have Pansy Parkinson as a best friend. You’ve never even thought about kissing her, have you?”
Merlin, no. Kissing Pans would be like kissing his sister, but still “I am not!”
“Yes you are! That’s why Crabbe and Goyle are my problem now, right? Because you told them and they didn’t accept you and now they’re afraid to sleep in the same room as you.”
On the plus side, he doesn’t have to think of a big lie now. Nott fed himself one that Draco can very much use to his advantage.
“And I get it, of course. I mean, Cedric is fit as hell, so is Justin Fletch-Fletchy, Huffles are cute, even the one that was following you, and have you seen the boys from the other schools? They’re insane! Potter’s an anomaly, I mean he has nice eyes, sure, but his hair is always a mess and he’s a little too famous for my tastes. To each his own, though.”
“Watch yourself, Nott, I’ll have you know that-” Draco slaps a hand over his mouth. No way in hell is he going to rant about how amazing Harry’s messing morning hair is. That torture is saved for Blaise and Pansy and sometimes LuLu. Also, he has no idea where Nott stands on anything, much less-
“Wait a second. H-Potter is a half-blood. So is Fletch-Fletchy.”
Nott blinks. “W-what? I mean, you’re not wrong, of course you’re not wrong. It’s just that, um, well-”
“It doesn’t matter to you.” Draco says. Now he gets it. It’s one thing to be queer in the wizarding word, and a completely different thing to be a queer pureblood. No one cares all that much, affairs are near tradition, but to sleep with someone, anyone of lesser decent is…. “How did you know? Say I am interested in blokes. What gave it away?”
Nott tosses his head back, curls going with it, and looks Draco up and down. Clear blue eyes sizing him up for something. “Well, we’re nearly fifteen. Sixteen is when the marriages are signed, so if your mum hasn’t begun looking at girls for you to marry….” Nott adverts his eyes. “Normally mums just force it anyways, you know how important carrying on the lines are...but your mum doesn’t. That usually means your mum is more...liberal...and we know what that means, don’t we?”
Draco tries to put the pieces together. Yes, his mum is a liberal, but Draco’s marriage issue has nothing to do with that. Hell, he hadn’t really thought much of romance with everything going on. Yes, he admits that men are attractive, and he never once looked at any girls the way he looks at Harry, so he probably is into blokes, but he didn’t even know that until now. Maybe Nott is just speaking from personal experience.
Draco blinks.
Fuck.
Of course Nott knows what he’s talking about, the boy just admitted to crushing on two Huffles. That can only mean- “You don’t buy into the Dark Lord bullshit, do you?”
“Nope.” Nott sighs, “Oh thank Merlin, I thought you did for a second there.”
Draco laughs, actually fucking laughs. “Not at all?”
“Of course not!” Nott yells, “Do you know what his kind do to gays? Torture, Malfoy. Like, rip limb from limb torture. It’s not pretty, and they do it for what? Because some blokes like it up the ass? Tell me what kind of sense that makes! Sounds to me like he’s obviously never had an orgasm.”
He can’t stop laughing, especially imagining Riddle McTiddle anywhere near sex. It’s probably the strangest thing he’s heard in a while.
“Listen to me!" Nott whines, "I don’t care about the Dark Lord! I just want twiddle dee and twiddle dumb out of my room! It’s bad enough that they ruin my things, but now they’re following me around! Have you any idea how hard it is to get a date with those two always hanging about?!”
Draco’s grasping his sides now, “Sorry, Nott, but no can do. I can, however, help you out.”
“How?”
And that is the question. He needs proof that Nott is one of them, of course, but slipping to Snape that Nott is in danger might help a bit. If he can’t get his own room, Draco can probably bully Blaise into putting up with another roommate. Granted, he’d have to lay some groundwork and make sure Nott’s actually on their side.
Pansy would kill him otherwise.
“Did you even come back last night?” She asks the second he sits down at brunch. Draco makes room for Nott, who slides in on his left. Fleur and Luna are absent, so they’re probably still sleeping. Blaise isn’t doing much better, his head nearly falling into a cup of coffee.
He sits up straight as soon as he realizes who he’s sat across from. But, because Blasie is amazing and perfect and Draco will be owing him big time later, he doesn’t make a scene.
“Pans is right, we don’t care who you're snogging, as long as you're snogging within the limits of curfew.”
“I wasn’t out snogging! Pass the jam, will you?”
Pansy grabs the lemon one out of habit, “You can’t lie to us! Theo! Doesn’t Draco look freshly snogged?”
“Freshly frightened more like it,” Nott-Theo, apparently- doesn’t miss a beat. “Caught some Huffle following him out of Pomfrey’s office.”
“Is that why there’s blood on your jumper?”
“Blood on Draco’s jumper?” Millie asks, taking the seat on his right. “Why is there always blood on your jumpers?”
“It’s not mine!” Draco whines, thankful that his friends know better than to ask. “It’s Pomfrey’s-her doll, I mean. Look, this is all a big misunderstanding.”
So he spends breakfast explaining his morning, getting doubtful looks from his friends about his project idea, and glares from Crabbe and Goyle. It’s been a long morning already, but he really has his heart set on seeing Snape, so after breakfast he excuses himself and makes his way down to the dungeons.
He stops only once to glare at the William character. Then Draco knocks twice on Snape’s door, and once it’s open he holds up his middle finger and makes his way inside.
“A rather crude gesture to display before noon.”
“It’s well deserved.” Draco pauses to take in his god-father still in his night-clothes. The door to his bedroom, usually open, is tightly shut. A single green hair-tie lays on his desk, heels badly hidden under a blanket. “Um, am I interrupting something?”
Snape blinks slowly. “Not at all.”
“Really? Because I didn’t peg you as the type to wear heels and-” Draco nearly trips, eyes going wide. “Did you wash your hair?”
“I beg your pardon! I wash my hair all the time!”
Draco’s still trying to recover, pinching his side just to make sure this is real.
“It’s not my fault that I have an oily scalp and work with substances that escalate the amount of grime in my hair.” Snape is saying. “And don’t think I don’t hear you and your little friends talking about it, to think you wonder why I’m mean to my students-”
The door to his bedroom creaks open and Draco finds himself falling on the couch, jaw dropping, eyes bulging out of his skull.
Ellios, that weirdly beautiful person from Krum’s school steps out, clothes wrinkled, a sly smile on their face. “Severus, I rather think the boy has a point.”
They step further into the room, buttoning up their shirt, casually kicking their heels free from their fluffy prison. “Perhaps if you used the shampoo I recommended….”
“Ellie!” Snape whisper-shouts, Draco pinches himself again because there’s no way in Merlin’s great name that Snape is blushing. What the hell has he walked into?
“What?” Ellios glares, slipping on one heel after the other and leaning to grab the green string. They tie their hair up in one fluid motion and smile Draco’s way. “You would not mind keeping this our little secret, would you?”
And because Draco is sure he’s stumbled into a different reality, he nods with his mouth still wide open.
“Marvelous.” Ellios’s smile is nearly blinding, but even worse is the way they kiss Snape on his still burning cheek. “I must be going now, duty calls, as you know. And Mister Malfoy, do remember to keep your mouth shut, hm?”
And with that, they leave the room, Snape and Draco looking after their hips with wide eyes. There’s a beat of quiet, and then Draco manages to tear his head away from the door.
“You….” He has to pause and take a breath. “You’re fucking them?”
“Language.” Snape snaps, “And what I do in my free time is none of your business.”
“More like who you do.”
“Shut up, I’ll kick you out and tell your mother about the alcohol you think you’ve hidden.”
Draco promptly shuts his mouth, afterall, he can pester Snape about this after he has tea and complains about William. And Nott. And Harry. Pretty much everything, really.
By Wednesday morning Draco is fully prepared to go into full panic mode.
He still has no clue what the second task is, his project idea for Transfiguration is making less progress than his attempts to get information about Snape’s sex life, he hasn’t been able to talk to Harry since Saturday, his homework is steadily pilling up, Fleur’s anxiety increases with every waking moment, Luna has taken this new habit of asking him weird questions every time they run into each other, and to top it all of he can barely sleep.
The lack of sleep he can deal with, but everything else is starting to wear on him.
Which is probably why he’s hiding in the Gang’s Room with LuLu, trying to catch up on homework before he has to go meet Pomfrey.
His little cat-bastard hasn’t had a single problem, lazing wherever she pleases, eating whatever whenever, getting constant affection from anyone who happens to fall prey to those big doll-eyes. Draco is her latest victim, as he finds himself petting her instead of doing his paper for Potions.
Thankfully, he’s saved by Hermione barging in.
She looks a little frazzled, hair a little crazier than usual, eyes watery, cheeks darker than the rest of her skin. Crookshanks follows her, pausing to greet LuLu with a nuzzle and a pur as Draco raises from his table.
“What happened? You look like you’ve been forced to interact with Myrtle.”
“Oh please,” Hermione wipes at her eyes, “Even Myrtle isn’t this bad…”
Fuck, oh fuck. Hermione is crying. She clears her throat, badly hides the tiny little sob that comes out, and shakes her head. “Sorry, I see that you’re studying and-”
“Please, ‘Mione, sit down. Have some tea, tell me what the hell happened.”
Or who the hell did what because he is not above beating someone for making his friend cry. Never has and never will be.
A quick hex to the back of a kneecap never killed anyone.
Hermione laughs, a sad little sound, and sits across from his books. “It’s just….I feel so stupid, Draco.”
“You? Stupid? Never.” Draco sits back down, letting LuLu hop up. “Tired, nearly always. But never stupid.”
“I dunno about that….”
Draco reaches out to squeeze her hand. She squeezes back and after a moment she sighs.
“I can’t figure out what they’re going to drag Harry through next...it’s life or death for him, ya know? I’m so scared that one day he won’t come back, and now the odds are ever higher and who’s going to help me with Ron if he’s not there? Bloody idiot is already butthurt because Krum and I have been spending time together, and now he’s making fun of me for not having a date to the Yule Ball but…” Hermione blushes, “But I do have one…”
“You do?! Who is it? Do I know them? Is it Pansy?”
“No.” She smacks his arm, but at least her smile is back. “It’s not Pans, though I would like to go dancing with her one day...it’s, um, Viktor Krum?”
Draco tilts his head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You know….Krum like that one Quidditch player? The cute one with the-”
“Yes I know Krum! He’s only a national hero?! One of the best players like, ever. Please tell me how this happened. Was it the library dates? Because Fleur bet he’d ask you and I might owe her money.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Draco rolls his eyes, “Judgement later, details now.”
“Well,” Hermione glares a bit, but continues anyway. “It started with the library, but then we began taking walks, discussing books, and reading under the trees. He’s rather intelligent, though he doesn’t look it. He’s also sweet, caring, Godric, just yesterday he carried my bag for me so I could read on the way to class. He’s wonderful Draco!”
Draco doesn’t like the feeling curling in his gut. “But?”
Hermione frowns. “He’s perfect, you have to understand that, it’s just...well, some of our views are a bit different. For example, he doesn’t understand why I’m so passionate about house-elf freedom. His school teaches him dark magic, and he likes some of it. He was so shocked when Harry came to help him and I...I just don’t know how I feel about a person like that. He’s just different, and that’s not a bad thing…”
Draco sits back in his chair, stroking LuLu’s fur and taking a moment to compose his thoughts.
“I understand, but you need to understand some things as well. Krum is a pureblood, like me. He’s never known life without house elves, and as you know, it’s dangerous for a house elf to be without a family, they need us and though we don’t necessarily need them, we still rely on them. Mutualistic relationship, remember?”
Hermione nods, Draco moves LuLu to his left.
“Also, I hate to tell you this, but most purebloods know dark magic, and not all dark magic is actually ‘dark’. It could just be a spell a wizard in charge didn’t want others to know, or didn’t like. Politicians determine what is deemed ‘dark’ or ‘pure’, we shouldn’t forget that. Teaching students the Dark Arts is not that fun, sure, but think of our climate. Right now we’re on the brink of probably another war with the asshole who fucked the entire wizarding world not even twenty years ago. Knowing spells that Death Eaters might use is a good idea, if nothing for protection against them.”
“I understand that!” Hermione sighs, “Of course I do, but to use them...and while I think wizards have some of the stupidest politicians in the world, knowing the Killing Curse, or having to cast Crucio...it’s just awful.”
Draco nods, “You’re right of course, but those spells are banned for everyone. I bet Krum knows the spell that turns a person into a duck.”
Hermione looks up at that.
“I’m sorry, did you say a duck?”
“Yep. It’s advanced Transfiguration, though turning a human into an animal forever is considered ‘dark’ it could definitely solve a few of our problems.”
Hermione giggles, “I can’t stay sad with the image of Riddle as a duck…”
“We could call him The Duck Lord.”
“Voldy-duck.”
“Tom Duckle.”
Hermione burst out laughing. “I’d say the Duck Eaters but that feels rather wrong.”
“They’ve done worse,” Draco shrugs, “Anyways. Does Ron know about Krum? Does Pans know?”
Hermione sighs, but her smile is still there. “I don’t want to tell Ronald because he’s been an ass for the past few weeks, but Pans was there when Krum asked me. I think she’s still in shock that I said yes.”
“To be fair, I’m also in shock-hey!” Draco smacks the pillow flying his way, “I’m just saying that I didn’t think you’d be into sporty guys!”
“Yeah? Well! You have-you have a thing for curls!”
And, yeah, she’s got him there. Between Nott’s golden curls that have been popping up the past few days and Harry’s dark ones that are around every corner, he can’t really catch a break. So he sticks his tongue out like the mature teenager he is and places LuLu on the ground.
“If you’re done making fun of my mistakes, I have to go see Pomfrey.”
“Draco…” One look into Hermione’s big brown eyes and he knows he’s about to get some of the best advice. “You know he’d say yes, don’t you?”
On second thought, Draco has no fucking clue what she’s talking about, but she and the boys are meeting Hagrid in twenty minutes, and if Draco tries to figure it out he’ll be late to Pomfrey’s.