I wanted to have the oneshot about what happened with Tristan up before uploading this, but I'm not gonna manage (it's at 8k and not done) so I decided that an extra update is gonna be my Christmas gift to you instead!
Next update is New Years-ish.
There is mention of self body modification in this chapter, a cheeky bit of physical abuse, and there is (elaborate) talk of self destruction, of course all of this will be exclamation marked.
Narcissa grasped a side of the door frame with both hands and pulled herself upright, gracefully but with effort. Her travelling cloak remained in a sad puddle on the floor.
Then she took in the room with a single move of her head, one eye wide, the other black and swollen nearly shut.
Her gaze followed the trail of Malfoy's blood to where it was interrupted by the brown leather chair.
Harry watched her silently as she went over to it without a word, trying to come down from the blast of rage he'd had.
He couldn't remember experiencing one quite like this before.
She placed her hands on the back of the chair and hopped onto it sideways, as if it was a horse. Then she flung both legs over it and stepped off the seat, temporarily blocking Malfoy from Harry's sight.
Her dress hadn't even crinkled.
She used her wand to cut the glamour so it hung loosely like a curtain, then folded part of it aside.
When Harry could see Malfoy's face clearly he gave him a dark fucking look, but Malfoy just had eyes for his mum.
"Mother? What happened?" He asked, sounding concerned.
Harry lost some of his rage… but not nearly all of it.
Malfoy'd lost a fucking war about this blood status bullshit, and he'd gotten along with Myrtle, hadn't he?
Were non-purebloods only respectable when they were fucking ghosts?
"Could we have a moment?" Narcissa asked Harry.
"No, sorry." Harry said briskly.
She had an unreadable expression and turned back to Malfoy, who looked up at her questioningly.
She sighed and sat on the edge of the bath, still allowing a clear view of Malfoy's face.
The glamour extended in neon red where it was stretched, but it cooperated.
Then she leaned over and gently took the bottle from Malfoy's hand and placed it on the floor, out of his reach.
Neither of them commented on it.
"There was an emergency…?" She looked at Malfoy, who made a face as if he had no idea what she was talking about.
She looked back at Harry, her face concerned, desperate, and warped by her black eye.
"He had a breakdown because he bumped his stump," Harry said curtly.
He petulantly hoped it still hurt.
She pressed her lips together and appeared to be about to say something.
Suddenly Harry spotted red on the bathroom floor — crimson flowers of blood floated on the wet surface, emanating from the bottom of her long black dress.
And now he was paying attention — she'd also left a trail from the doorway and over the back of the chair.
"You're bleeding?" He asked.
"Mother?" Malfoy looked at her in alarm.
"A little splinched — nothing serious." She said, sounding strained.
Malfoy briefly pressed his lips together.
"And… should I ask?" He asked pointedly, nodding at her face.
She tensed.
"Oh, I see…" Malfoy said darkly.
"Draco…" Narcissa sighed, sounding tired.
Harry guessed it was supposed to be a warning.
"You couldn't be inconspicuous with a Patronus prancing about, could you?" Malfoy said maliciously and gave Harry a look.
"Wait, it got you attacked?" Harry asked, distracted from his anger.
She sighed, exasperated.
A trail of footsteps appeared in the bloody water on the floor, each disappearing when the invisible foot was lifted. They seemed feminine.
Malfoy looked at something Harry couldn't see — above the footprints he couldn't see.
…that was probably his aunt, making this situation even fucking weirder.
The feet stopped and turned promptly next to Narcissa, creating a little circular splash. The glamour swayed ever so gently.
Malfoy sighed, apparently more at ease now.
Could he see her?
Harry tried to focus on the conversation for now. "I'm sorry — " He said to Narcissa, meaning it; "What happened?"
She sighed. "Nothing to worry about, Harry Potter — "
His name was not a fucking title.
"Harry," Harry cut in, then realised who he was talking to.
He didn't hate her but he didn't like her either, so being on first name basis was a bit much.
"…Harry," She said, seeming both a little confused and relieved.
Shit.
Well, he had brought that upon himself.
"There is no reason for concern… I appreciate you notifying me and I would request you do so again, in case a similar situation arises," She said to Harry, then turned back to her son.
"Bumped…?" She asked, and Malfoy raised his stump with a sardonic expression.
"I thought that if I peeled back the flesh, I could attach my wand to the bone," He said with a grin. "Magical to the core."
"Don't be crass, Draco," She was clearly uncomfortable.
! "Or have it sculpted, like they do with ivory…" He trailed off and looked at his stump, apparently considering it.
…so he was in one of those moods.
"Draco!" She sounded more angry now.
! "Carve it into a flute, perhaps?" Another one of those wry warped grins appeared on his face.
His mum looked at him as if she smelled something nasty.
! "Or a shiv…" He seemed particularly taken with that idea.
Narcissa grabbed him by the face, giving him a fishy mouth, and forced him to look at her.
Beside her, just above head height, the glamour was gently turned orange where it was indented by something the size of a fingertip.
It seemed to trail an '8', but since the pressure didn't remain, it was hard to make out.
Malfoy squirmed for a second but then lowered his stump.
Harry could see the malice drain away.
"Don't." Narcissa emphasised, and Malfoy gave the smallest nod in response.
"You're better than that." She added strictly.
The glamour shape continued and Harry figured it was more like a pretzel.
…and when the long line trailed down he realised that it was a Dark Mark.
Obviously.
A fucking pretzel?
Had he forgotten where he was?
Malfoy deflated into expressionlessness and the moment his mum let go of him, he sank deeper into the bath.
His nose only just remained above the surface.
The glamour was impressed upon again in the same location, this time not with a fingertip but with a face — first the tip of a nose, then cheeks, upper lip and eyebrows — then its entire outline.
Narcissa, oblivious to this, drew herself upright and turned to Harry.
"I would apologise to you for having to witness this, but I fear that it is quite out of my hands."
The face beside Narcissa opened its mouth and stuck out its tongue, licking the glamour.
This was unmistakably Bellatrix.
Malfoy looked at it for a few seconds and then submerged himself.
His arm still hung over the edge of the tub and he was holding his wand, so Harry figured there was no reason to worry until he lost his grip.
Literally.
"But… allow me to apologise for my son's behaviour." Narcissa's tone became sharper as she spoke. "I do not condone it."
"Yeah, he had some unacceptable things to say," Harry said, wondering what would happen if he told her what Malfoy had told him.
He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be logging the manifestations.
"…he hasn't been quite… himself." She said, quite composed, but her eyes glittered.
"Have you considered a mindhealer?" Harry said, echoing what so many people had said to him.
She pressed her lips together and looked at her son's face, still below the surface.
Then she looked back at Harry.
Her sitting there, all posh and haughty with her black eye, her blood on the floor, and her invisible dead sister beside her as Malfoy quietly drowned himself…
…it was a scene Harry wasn't going to forget any time soon.
She drew herself more upright just as Bellatrix' face retreated from the glamour.
"We can't afford that," She said haughtily.
"Don't want to ruin your image?" Harry sounded a bit ruder than he'd intended.
Her eyes widened. "Mister Potter — "
He was relieved he didn't need to be on first name basis with her after all, but he wasn't sure why she was intentionally titling him.
"…charity is providing those who 'have not' with what one believes they deserve, is it not…?" She seemed mildly exasperated and a little condescending, but more than that — she seemed embarrassed.
Harry considered her words, then nodded.
She drew herself more upright, still. "So… when one finds oneself in a certain position… one cannot afford to rely on charity."
Considering people thought Malfoy ought to die, it was fair enough that they weren't accepting surprise packages —
Then something clicked.
"Wait — you mean you actually can't afford it?" Harry asked. "Like — Financially?"
Malfoy got back up from under water, gasping for air, and his mum turned to him.
"Let's not speak of this," She said, and Harry was sure that was meant for him.
Malfoy didn't seem remotely malicious anymore.
"Should I heal that for you?" He asked when he'd caught his breath, sounding concerned and looking at his mum's face as he raised his wand.
"That isn't your place," She said gently.
Malfoy guffawed. "Who else will?" He asked incredulously.
! She struck him with the back of her hand.
The slap rung wet and echoey, and his wand landed on the water on the floor with a little splat.
Harry'd frozen, the droning shock reverberating in his chest.
He hadn't expected this, not from her, and he realised he'd drawn his wand.
A mocking gasp could be heard — probably Bellatrix — and Narcissa deflated as Malfoy turned back to look at her remorsefully.
She reached out, the back of her hand now gently stroking where she'd struck him.
"I'm sorry darling," She whispered, then leaned over to cup his face in both her hands and pressed her lips on his hairline. A tear escaped her black eye as she squeezed it shut.
"That was unacceptable," She said as she broke away, still holding his face and stroking his cheek with her thumb.
He didn't respond.
"I'm sorry," She whispered, flustered. "I'm sorry."
Malfoy shrugged.
She bent to pick up his wand and place it in his limp hand, but he didn't take it and it fell back to the floor.
"Draco, please," She said desperately as she picked it up again.
He retreated his arm into the water.
She placed his wand on the edge of the bath and reached for his face, gently stroking it.
He ignored her entirely.
"Should I get you anything?" She asked, more flustered. "Draught of Peace? Dittany?"
"Stop putting on a show," He muttered flatly and she froze. "Some dittany please, thank you Mother."
She nodded tensely and got up.
Harry saw the wet footsteps in the water go towards the chair, which then forcefully moved to its previous location, still facing the bathroom.
Narcissa froze.
"Thank-you, auntie Bella," Malfoy said semi-singsong, and Narcissa looked at the ceiling for a moment, clearly trying to compose herself.
Then she promptly marched out, painting a broad watered-down streak of blood on the floor with the wet hem of her dress.
Harry waited until he thought she was out of earshot.
"…does she know what you did last night?" He then asked.
Malfoy's focus snapped to him, mortified.
"Okay," Harry said, pretend-casually, and got out his FieldScroll.
He could tell from the periphery of his sight that Malfoy was looking forwards again, white as a sheet.
Good, let him fucking soak in it for a while.
There was no way he'd give Malfoy up to his mum if this is how she responded to an insensitive remark — who knew what she might do if she found out that he'd actually done something 'indecent'?
But… if this could help him find the answers he needed, he wasn't going to waste the opportunity.
He caught up on his logging.
"So — You told him to take a chair and he just happened to take that one?" Harry nodded at the furniture in question as he spoke.
Malfoy remained quiet.
"Come on, you can't tell me something like that and expect me to just drop it."
"My Mother is bleeding," Malfoy said neutrally.
"Yep," Said Harry, reminding himself that she was getting dittany so she could easily apply some to herself as well. "Now answer me: How did you 'escalate' the situation?"
"…he'd said something about me being his only concern…" Malfoy began steadily, quite serious.
Harry remembered that and pressed his lips together.
He was definitely gonna have a word with Tristan when he next saw him.
"…and mentioned that he had been after your oblivious self from the moment you were first paired up…" Malfoy sounded a little pleased with himself now.
Wait, what?
"He also said something about his parents' professions, about why he was an Auror…" Malfoy seemed to become a bit more comfortable speaking again.
"He told me what he'd heard about me, he told me about him… — " Malfoy had trailed off and suddenly sounded impatient: "He was obviously employing the whole 'we're equals and I'm so relatable' Spiel." He rolled his eyes. "Trying to win my trust for whatever reason."
"What on earth could he gain with that?" Harry asked incredulously.
How had Malfoy gotten the idea that his trust was worth anything anymore?
Then he felt like a dick for thinking it.
"Exactly!" Malfoy said as if Harry had made his point for him. "So I figured I should get something on him, just in case."
Harry wondered for a moment how the fuck Malfoy could have used the situation in any way at all, considering the name 'Malfoy' had suffered quite a social faceplant.
…and then he remembered Johnny, who could probably pull some strings.
"So you slept with half the Aurors watching you?" Harry asked, disgusted and uncomfortable.
Malfoy gave him a look that was impossible to interpret, but he didn't answer.
Harry hated this situation — he didn't know the details, but logging this couldn't just land Malfoy in Azkaban; it could potentially cost Tristan his job, too.
…and it wouldn't be a very 'honourable discharge', either.
Fuck — whatever had happened, careless or not, those consequences seemed too definite.
Harry bristled.
Why couldn't the two of them just bloody fancy each other so it wouldn't — No, fuck, then the shoe would just be on the other foot, wouldn't it?
The power dynamic was fucked either way.
Blood Hell.
Why couldn't this just not be happening?
"…have you at all considered that Tristan might just be nice?" Harry snapped, exasperated.
Malfoy snorted.
"Of course! He'll bring friendship bracelets next time and we can skip through the gardens, stump in hand." He said, viciously sarcastic. Then his tone flipped to condescension: "Do you honestly suppose a mudblood like him would — "
"Don't say that again," Harry said darkly.
"Or what?" Malfoy asked, mockingly curious.
"I might be able to find some Aurors who aren't so keen on you to do the babysitting… I'm sure there'll be volunteers."
"Threatening me, Potter?" Malfoy asked, weirdly sardonic. "Do you want me to have an accident?"
"Might be fun for your mum to walk in on," Harry said.
He wondered whether he sounded like he meant it.
"Oh lovely — not only will she be financially ruined and trapped in this Hellhole, she'll also lose the only person who doesn't want her lynched and she'll have to inter her final relative. Well done!" He said as if he had just won an argument, then summoned the liquor bottle back to himself and took a swig. "— hm!" he exclaimed with his mouth full and swallowed, gesturing the bottle as if he was about to say something. "If she can afford to, that is."
Harry logged the summoning charm with frustrated resignation.
"Did you know that Azkaban charges for deceased prisoners? Storage, release and transportation are accounted for separately and if you don't cough up on time, they'll Incendio the body and dump it into the ocean." He'd said it as if this was an interesting bit of trivia and took a moment to breathe.
Then he took another sip. "The guards weren't very fond of me, so I'm positive I'll trip into a wall at some point, bars or no."
Harry hadn't meant to imply that Malfoy would end up in Azkaban, but didn't really fancy correcting the assumption.
Instead, he tried to be angry about no longer being angry.
Malfoy smiled. "I haven't gone swimming in a long time, do you think I'll go in circles?" He looked at Harry as if he was actually asking.
! "Before I'll succumb to cramp, that is — or no, hypothermia. Yes, that'll do it." He gazed off, nodded, and was about to take another sip, but then continued as if he remembered something: "Oh I forget…" He sighed. "I tire quite easily these days… Pass out if I get wound up. Sheer shock might knock me out before I hit the water."
He considered for a moment, then chuckled before sighing in mocking wistfulness: "No swimming for me…"
Was this how Malfoy had intended to 'guilt him straight to Hell'?
It was working — how could it be working if he'd announced it?
This wasn't Harry's fault — none of it was.
Malfoy'd just been fucking horrible about Tristan, and was now being fucking horrible about — well, his own potential reality.
For fuck's sake.
Malfoy was a disgusting piece of work and he was punching low — but then again, he seemed mental enough to mean it, to some extent.
How was Harry supposed to protectively monitor someone self-destructive?
…he could try asking for cooperation…
He already had a monstrous situation on his hands, so what was the worst thing that could happen? That Malfoy would say 'no'?
"You could try not being horrible, you know," Harry said, "For a few minutes?"
That warped wry smile appeared on Malfoy mouth again and it didn't remotely reach his eyes. "Could I?"
Harry sighed.
"Want to see something really horrible?" Malfoy asked with some enthusiasm, sitting more upright in the bath.
Harry felt the hair in his neck rise — was Malfoy about to flash him or something?
"I'm looking at you, aren't I?" He said.
Malfoy's eyes seemed to sparkle more fiercely, but he didn't otherwise react.
Why the fuck had he told Harry to 'bite back' if this was how he responded? Was that just for Wednesdays or something?
Malfoy continued to look at him, apparently actually awaiting an answer.
Considering the things Malfoy mistook for casual conversation nowadays, Harry decided it was best to decline.
"No," He said, and was surprised when Malfoy's face became a shade paler.
Malfoy turned in the bath, his feet now where he sat before, once again properly shielded by the glamour, his black-ish shoulder visible.
Harry relaxed a little and let his mind wander.
Malfoy had been upset about what Quiesko had said about his dad, but he had also been making light of it himself — or… kind of, at least.
Would the situation with Tristan be the same? Would the reality have been… less-horrible?
Harry sighed, annoyed. He didn't want to have to see a memory to find out and he hoped he wouldn't need to.
He just had to talk to Tristan about this to find out what had really happened.
Harry trusted him not to lie or warp the situation, unlike Malfoy, who'd gone a little warped himself.
He really would benefit from a mindhealer.
…and they couldn't afford to get him one?
…while living in a manor covered in silverware?
"So… if you're so poor…" Harry said, stroking his hands over his face and then adjusting his glasses. "Why don't you just sell some silver or something?"
Malfoy sighed, but he seemed serious. "Haven't you heard? There was a war. If it's not tainted by Residue, it's tainted by association."
"…Nazi memorabilia is still sought after," Harry said, a little uncomfortable. He never thought he'd use that to make someone feel better.
Then he wondered whether Malfoy knew what Nazis were.
Malfoy looked off into the distance for a moment, then had another swig. "Mother was trying to sell some things, I think… Or — buying potions ingredients, not sure." He swigged again. "Either way, I'm sure your Patronus drew attention to her."
"I had to get her!" Harry said, frustrated. "You were having a fucking breakdown!"
"So?" Malfoy snapped back. "Let me be! One onlooker isn't enough? I need more of an audience?"
"No, you need help!"
"I need privacy," Malfoy said haughtily.
"You said you were going to guilt me straight to Hell," Harry said admonishingly. "I'm not going to give you the chance."
There was a brief silence.
! "Why not?" Malfoy asked, serious. "Do you — does anyone need me for… anything?"
! Harry had been pretty sure that Malfoy wanted to off himself… But he hadn't expected this kind of confirmation.
Realising that they were talking about the same thing made him feel cold.
"…your mum…?" He said, unsure of how it was a response, let alone whether it was an appropriate one.
"Right, of course. I'll marry some girl I have any chance of meeting — have you tried waltzing with one arm?" Malfoy briefly became malicious but then resorted back to bitterness. "But all right, the dowry will assure my Mother's well-being. And then? A child cannot be called an 'heir' if this cursed rubble is all that is lined up for them — " He interrupted himself, frustrated — fuming.
He huffed a few times, as if to prepare to hold his breath.
"Why would I bring anyone into this?" He then snapped.
The question hung in the air, demanding an answer.
Harry didn't have one.
He'd been thinking that his mum would miss him… He hadn't considered the whole posh family inheritance thing.
Then again, she'd bloody struck him, hadn't she? She'd seemed sorry, but… If that was a habit…
"You'll be all right," He said, insisting to convince them both.
"No I won't." Malfoy snarled, then took another swig.
"Not with that attitude," Harry said wryly.
Malfoy chuckled.
There was also the sound of liquid hitting the water — had he spat some of his drink?
Harry grinned.
He couldn't remember whether he'd ever heard a non-mental non-malicious laugh from him before.
Interrogation tactics popped up once more.
If they could have a laugh together it would forge a bond, however superficially, which would then help draw out information later.
…he hated how so many of the things he'd learnt made normal interactions look like ploys.
It felt manipulative… It was… but Harry had to remember who he was dealing with.
It was for a good cause.
…and it wasn't like he was lying.
"So… I've got to ask…" Harry started, genuinely curious.
Malfoy turned to him.
"Tristan's been… 'after me'? Really?" He felt like he was throwing Tristan under the bus, but then again… He'd told Malfoy, apparently.
"Oh, yes," Malfoy sounded like he was grinning, took a swig and cleared his throat dramatically.
Then he said in a decent imitation of Tristan's drawling drunk-sounding Maine accent:
"I don't think Harry even knows I'm gay though I've been hittin' on him since I met him."
Harry laughed incredulously — those were words he'd never expected to hear from Malfoy's mouth, let alone with an accent.
…Tristan had winked at him an awful lot though, hadn't he?
'Aurorin' 101 Harry; just look'
How had he missed it?
Regardless, he was a little relieved to hear Malfoy chuckle too.
"Why didn't he tell me?" Harry asked just to keep the conversation going.
"Isn't that obvious?" Malfoy sounded only mildly condescending. "People know whether they want what's offered to them, so obliviousness is genuine disinterest."
He paused for a moment. "Besides — " He sighed, raising the bottle to his mouth. "Ignorance is the kindest rejection."
He took another swig.
Okay, that sounded as if it came from experience.
Malfoy was clearly in a chatty mood and Harry wanted to prolong that, tactically or not.
He was a little worried that getting into the topics that interested him most would make the conversation a fucking struggle again though.
He decided on keeping things semi-superficial for now. He had over ten hours of shift to look forward to today, there would be plenty of time.
"Okay… something else I've been wondering… Is morning time drinking a posh people thing?"
Malfoy scoffed. "Alcohol both preserves and disinfects, Potter, I'll leave you to decipher which I'm attempting."
"Bit of both? Maybe?"
Malfoy raised the bottle as if to toast to him.
Narcissa appeared in the doorway. She took a slow step — it was the kind of step people only took when they began moving after standing still.
Her eye was healed and she held a bundle of dittany.
How much of their conversation had she heard?
She looked at Harry gratefully.
Then she soundlessly walked in and placed the dittany on the silver table on the bed. It looked like a bouquet beside the teapot.
"I hadn't expected you to deviate from a proffered dichotomy — you're not as thick as you seem, you know," Malfoy said casually, apparently unaware of her presence.
Harry made a sound of incredulity but kept his eyes on her, distracted.
Narcissa pressed her lips together and pulled the corners of her mouth back, an expression of reassurance. She soundlessly moved away then, charming the blood away from the floor once she went through the door.
There she held her elbows as her eyes glittered.
"I seem thick to you?" Harry asked, amused at the claim, his eyes still on her.
"Well, you did suffer a head wound as an infant… something like that is bound to leave a mark." Malfoy said in his usual tone.
It had been a while since Harry had last heard it.
'Thank you', Narcissa mouthed before pressing her lips together.
Then she silently closed the door in front of her.