A/N: Sorry for the delay. I have another fic I'm working on. I'm actually trying to make this my last fanfic so I can start writing novels...yup. Big step...
I didn't mark the switching POVs in this chapter since it's more or less obvious. I may mark it in some future chapters for some specific scenes but IDK. Now for the big part: THANK YOU FOR REVIEWS! I'll reply to guest reviews bellow. The other ones are PM (unless you prefer it in the Author's note, but you'd have to let me know )
Regardless, hope you enjoy!

Chilled Legacy III

Being sick wasn't a complete lie in itself. Draco was unsure if it was due to a side effect of what he was now calling a curse, or a result of the constant time spent in the cold.

Small fits of cough and shivers only lasted up 'till the early morning. At most he'd have an itchy nose at breakfast.
This morning was different. The gloves did nothing to protect Draco at all during his slumber. The room was an icy chamber of torture. It was enough for even him to feel its bone-chilling touch.
Draco even awoke cold.

His sense of temperature had been 'out of whack' ever since the powers had developed. He supposed even this cursed body had its limits.

After sensing Draco's urgent need for warmth, the room of requirements slowly began to de-frosts and melt the surroundings. A drain appeared in the center of the floor where gallons of melted ice disappeared into unknown oblivion.

Watching the crystalized structures crumble all around him caused Draco a strange sensation of grief. Even though the snow made his life a living hell, there was something threateningly beautiful about it, like a rose with ever-growing thorns.
The patterns and fragments of ice placed together were a poisonous art piece that entangled in his veins. Possibly his undoing.

Snowflakes turned to tears of water, plummeting to the ground. Soon enough, the room was back to normal and the drain caved in.

The coughing continued, this time taking longer to cease. Draco checked the time.
It was five in the morning. I his mind, too early for any poor soul to awake. Stupid ice.
Regardless, he put on his school robes and wandered over to the prefect's bathroom. It was one privilege of his they hadn't revoked.

Once inside, he undressed, turning the water to its hottest setting. While he waited, Draco walked over to the sink and eyed his reflection.
There were dark circles and bloodshot, fearful eyes where perfection should've been. He took off the gloves and placed them on the sink. Sighing with both determination and weariness, Draco looked into the mirror once more and said, "You can do this. This time—this time you've got it!"

The tub was finally filled.
Had Draco's hand not been touching the mirror, reflection would have been impossible. The bathroom was a warm fog of steam, the source protruding from the volcanic bath.
Months earlier there was no way in hell the young teen would have even dipped a toe into such a fiery liquid. But today—like every other day—mundane things such as bathing were experiments.

Draco inched closer to the tub. With one step he took a deep breath and exhaled on the next.
That was the first part—being as calm and relaxed as possible. The second and final step was slowly and carefully sliding in.

This was the harder of the two. In the beginning the actual temperature could be felt. Draco involuntarily cried out as he slid into the tub, smiling wider and wider the more he got in.

No, he wasn't crazy. It was working.

It was not until both of his legs were under the fires of hell that the water began to cool around him.

Again, Draco cried out, this time in relief. He held back the urge to use his powers on his aching legs in fear of freezing them solid.

After shampooing, conditioning and scrubbing at almost lighting speed (as Draco was trying to do so before the water passed lukewarm temperature), he smiled broadly and celebrated with the most important piece of a good bath; the mountain of bubbles.

The celebration was a well-deserved one. Ever since the mysterious powers had developed, Draco had been quick to find out all he could about them. After multiple failed library searches he decided to take matters into his own hands, learning to control them.

Little by little progress was made. Before, even dipping a toe into the water would freeze its surface, leaving a frustrated Draco to drain it and take a quick shower instead.

However, the growth in the ice mastery was only visible during moments of solitude. Being around others raised his nerves to a new level. One Draco never even knew he possessed.
A terrible fear of harming others.

This feeling didn't come from nowhere.
Draco wished he could say that it came from a simple gut feeling, or at worst, a nightmare due to stress from his powers (not that he didn't have plenty of those).
But the heart-shattering reality of it all was that the damage was already done. Stormberg was dead. Well, sort of.

The rough brown feathers and big brown eyes of his eagle owl were frozen solid. A fight had broken out between his parents at the manor. Lots of yelling. Enough for Draco to lock himself in his room.
He'd sat at the roof of the bed petting Stormberg.

Draco hadn't foreseen his mother magically shattering the chandelier in a fit of anger. The word 'startled' was too light. A noise of that magnitude would've 'startled' China. His heart had skipped a beat, and in that beat, the only thing the petrified wizard had seen was bright white flash from his fingertips and the now white feathery body of Stormberg lying unconscious in his hands.

Mere hours later the bird hand turned to ice. The statue was in Draco's room. He was the new medusa as he himself liked to call it.

Yes, his family was broken since the war. Telling them about his illness would only add more fire to the fuel. But alas, he had to after that. The Malfoy's always stuck together. Even in difficult times, family came first.
They were his parents after all, right? They would still love him no matter what, right? Wrong. Thinking back on it Draco realized that way of thinking was far too naïve for his own good.

He had waited a couple hours after the fight before telling them. His powers had been more out of control back then compared to today.
Draco walked down to the living room where his mum and father were. His mum had been staring silently in to space while his dad read the paper. As large and spacious was as the room was, the atmosphere was asphyxiating. The silence pained him.

"Mother? Father?"

His mother looked up, as if waking up from the deepest sleep. "What is it, love?"

"I think I'm sick."

His mother rushed over at once while his father put down the paper and eyed him with concern from the couch. At least their care for him was still an intact fragment of the broken shards.

"Oh dear!" Narcissa said, coming closer. "Let me feel your forehead."

Draco backed up immediately. "No!"
The teen's heart raced as he remembered his frozen pet. Those cold, lifeless eyes staring back at him had morphed into his mother's.

Narcissa paused. "What is it?"

"Don't come any closer!"

Lucius stood up from the couch. "Draco, do not speak to your mother in that tone. Now come here and let me have a look."

Both parents advanced on him. It happened to fast. Draco put his hands up defensively, going into panic mode.
"Just stay away from me! Stay awa-
More white light erupted from his hands. It swooshed past his mother's face, hitting a nearby vase, freezing it instantly.

It was a look Draco would never forget. The fear in their eyes. The scream. The way Lucius had shielded her from him—their son. He was a monster.
Showing them the remains of Stormberg was a hard thing to do, but the weeks that followed were harder. Sure, they were worried about him, but that didn't make the secretive arguments and constant contact avoidance any less difficult.
Family dinner was near impossible.
After the fifth frozen fork Draco decided to eat in his room.

"It's okay, dear," Narcissca had said soothingly. She then commanded a house elf to fetch him more silverware. Her voice didn't match her eyes. Terror was hidden behind them. Terror that Draco might someday hurt her. Accident or not, it was irrelevant.

None of those little hints were missed. Not the side glances, nor the way Lucius used his wand to pass the salt rather than hand it to him. Damn them.

That summer Draco had seen every live-in doctor his parent could afford. When the cure was not found, each had their memories erased before leaving the house. Obliviate. He'd memorized every syllable.
The last straw came on stress filled day when Draco had accidentally froze over the living room and his mother had slipped on its ice.
He'd apologized a million times. His mother had assured him it was alright. It wasn't.

Draco walked towards his parents' bed room that night to bid them sweet dreams (and apologize again). Right outside the door was where he heard it. The words that cut off the one string that held him together to a safe heaven.

"We can't send him away!" Narcissca protested.

"It's what's best for our son. The boy is a ticking bomb waiting to explode!"

No choice was given to him. He had to keep this family together.
It was a dry, hollow cry. All the pain from a breakdown without the actual tears. Draco sat outside the door for about three hours, waiting until they were fast asleep.
When he heard the first snore he—without hesitation—retrieved any memories of his powers from them. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. To him his parents had become only bodies with minds now. Minds lacking heart. soulless, just like the other death eaters.

Repeating this made the moments of sitting on the cold stone floor manageable. After that, shouting "Obliviate!" had been child's play.

Child's play of a child who would now face the game alone.

"Earth to Draco?"

The blond teen awoke from the day dream with a jolt. How long had he been in there? The water was way passed lukewarm. Startled, he looked towards the feminine voice.
"What the hell, Myrtle!?"

Myrtle giggled as Draco attempted to cover himself up with the remaining bubbles.

"No much point, Dray. I've been to this bathroom plenty of times. It's not the first time I've seen you naked."

Draco turned red, scrambling for a towel. "You disgust me."

The weeks prior Draco would only eat food after or before it was served by going to the house elves. With his gloves, eating at the table finally became a possibility, though he wasn't sure the secret feeding had entirely been encouraged by the circumstances.

The minute the young blond entered the great hall multiple eyes fell on him. First, one would notice his presence, and then they'd all follow, like a falling dominos.

The tables turned to the house animals. Gryffindor lions roared hungrily, ready to devour the weak snake. Ravenclaw eagles squawked protectively, anxious to peck his eyes out. Slytherin, his supposed home turned their beady eyes away in whispering hisses. The only ones left were the Hufflepuffs. Pathetic harmless badgers. While they were his safest sitting choice, it would be too humiliating.

"Yup. Myrtle looks like she needs bathroom company," Draco mumbles drily.
His feet carried him back towards the door. Before his hand could reach for the handle, the whispers turned to gasps, and the gasps to shouts.

"Harry!"

"Potter's back!"

"It's the Boy who lived!"

Draco looked back to see a rushing crowd of all years from first to seventh. Harry smiled alongside Ron who too shared part of the fame.
It appeared that only he and a few other Slytherins weren't running to worship The Chosen One.
Potter's bright green eyes met his just moments before he was smothered by the fans and friends.
"Oh brother." Draco rolled his eyes before pushing the door open. It turned out he wasn't that hungry.

"Nice to see you too! Thank you. Um…can we take that picture later? Autograph? No, sorry, I don't have a pen."
Harry repeated all these things frequently. Today more than ever. However, the broken record was "I'm no hero."

Escaping the crowd was near impossible. Maybe he should have taken up that offer from Rita Skeeter of a body guard. All the attention was overwhelming and the crowd only kept growing. It was a relief when McGonagall finally put a stop to the nonsense.

"Student! Back to your tables!"

Harry and Ron hurried over to her.
She smiled warmly at the two. "Glad to see you're here boys. I must apologize for the chaos. It's no wonder you two are locked up in that burrow all the time. Either way, you should definitely get out more.
"Come along," she stood. "follow me. We'll talk in my office."

Harry and Ron nodded, and then politely waved to the other teachers at the table.

They gave one last glance to the crowd behind them.
Draco crossed his thoughts just before leaving the great hall. Hermione wasn't exaggerating when she had mentioned him in her letters. The sunken eyes and empty stare. It was a zombie more than a student.

The talk with Mcgonagall was quick. She explained that they were under no obligation to do any assignments. The grades taken from such things as class activities or exams were just for show. Keeping up appearances was the only thing aside from their job they would be doing inside the learning institution.
There would be times when attending class would be unnecessary altogether. McGonagall had invented the false recuperation program. Other students would believe them to be making up lost work and lessons with tutors while they would be scrutinizing the school.

After Harry asked, she'd agreed that students such as Hermione, Neville, and Luna Lovegood were allowed to be informed of the mission. If they wanted to join, they were welcome to. Harry didn't want to tell anyone other than bookworm Hermione (since she was bound to know something was up already) just yet. Given how badly he wanted to be an auror, maybe this could prove to be good training if Harry did most of it alone.

A small silence passed through the room as he and Ron examined what used to be Dumbledores's office. Not much had changed. McGonagall must not have had much time to redecorate, but Harry suspected she just didn't want to. The essence of the man with the half-moon spectacles drifted through every knickknack and ornament in the room.
Its tranquility shattered when a loud sneeze from outside killed the moment.

Everyone else had also been caught up in the brief remembrance. McGonagall blinked. "Well, get to class for now boys. I'll have your trunks delivered to your old room."

"Thank you, Professor," Ron and Harry said.

Harry sighed. "Back home at last," he whispered to Ron.

"Even better now without the bloody school work."

Harry grinned as Ron walked ahead of him.

The red teen ran down the stairs, Harry losing him from view. To the Weasley, Hogwarts had been nothing more than a portion of his complicated childhood years. Harry had a more sentimental entanglement with the old castle, causing his footsteps to slow, taking everything in.

"AAAH! Ouch!"

"Ron?"

"Bloody hell…"

Harry ran down the stairs.
Ron was sitting upright on the ground, clutching his leg, staring at something to the near right.
Harry hopped off the last step to get a better look. His feet slid. The ground crunched slightly under his weight.
Ice. It covered meters of the area around them.
The ground glistened, having morphed into their personal skating ring. Ron must've slipped on it. Harry followed his friend's gaze to an enormous structure at the end of the frozen trail.
A small mountain of shards of ice. It was like a small ocean wave, frozen in its climax. A blast of ice. There was no other words to describe it.

The rest of the school was intact, making this spot next to the door look like a small winter island amongst warm alien territory.
This had to be a trap. Maybe a warning. Someone—whatever was causing this snow knew they were on to it—or him. Dark magic indeed.

Just barely sliding through the ice without falling, he and Ron headed to class, unsure of what to make of the chilling threat.

The hall had been empty, but Draco still had to make sure no one had seen his little slip up.
Once the coast was clear, he ran as far as he could from the crime scene. Right beside the Headmistress' office of all places!
'Note to self: hold back sneezes at all costs.'

A/N: (guest) REVIEW REPLY TIME!

Hikari Tsuki: If there was a way to hug you through this computer, I would. Thank you so much, this made my day XD
Hope you liked this chapter!