Draco meets Severus for dinner at The Three Broomsticks. He walks into the noise with graceful ease, nothing about him belying that he has spent the last several hours in the air.
Flying.
Refocusing.
He finds the other wizard at a shadowy table near the back with a clear view of the entire room, nose firmly placed in a book.
In another time it would have amused Draco, a smile would have graced his features for a moment.
But tonight is different.
Changes.
Draco slides into the seat across from Severus, placing his hands on the table, loose in front of him, face carefully blank, poise carefully relaxed.
A moment.
The sound of people, dishes.
"Have you ordered?" He asks finally.
"Yes," a muffled answer.
Draco nods and rises again, going to the bar and ordering. He glances around the room, cataloguing. He no longer looks for threats, not, at least out right, but picks up on faces, on the magic swirling around them, on their intentions, their thoughts, skimming the surface of individuals, groups.
A habit, long engrained, so very important on this night.
Volatile.
He makes his way back to the table, easing himself silently into the chair once more.
Draco waits.
His control has wavered the last few weeks, wavered, and almost toppled, but now it is back and it is with practiced nonchalance that he waits for Severus to finish whatever it is he is reading.
Waiting for the game to end.
Precious, precious control, and an iron will, fully and completely encased around the lean man with the brilliant white hair and the cold, calm eyes the colour of the northern sea.
Shifts, in a matter of hours, shifts, changes.
Draco forgot himself, and he will not do so again.
The Slytherin prince and last remaining Malfoy, titles he has re-established, he has built up from the ashes of a catastrophic war.
The name Malfoy once again indicating power, wealth, prestige, influence, and above all, illustrating the epitome of brilliance and pure-blooded lineage in the Wizarding world.
He will not forgot again.
Control.
Severus finally places his book down on the table and stairs at the younger man across from him. He immediately notices the changes.
"Draco." The silky dark voice, questioning just barely.
Draco inclines his head, torchlight catching at the perfectly groomed strands, his face a mask of indifference. "I have a favour to ask of you."
Severus smirks, but dark eyes are razor sharp. "Another one?"
Draco nods once and then pulls from the folds of his robe the ring with the bloodstone.
It swallows the dim light of the room.
Causing the red to turn black.
Draco puts it on the table, not looking at it, but rather at the man across from him. "I do not have the time, nor the inclination to rid myself of this and I am hoping you will do it for me."
Words. Cold.
Causing Severus to shift slightly.
Though it doesn't appear as if he does.
Severus does not reach for the ring, does not look at it, studying the young wizard's face, but it is an example of expressionless.
Absolutely nothing on Draco's face gives his thoughts away.
A moment.
Flickering of torchlight.
Severus looks down at the ring.
"May I inquire why it is you wish to rid yourself of this, after so many years?"
The answer is quick. "I no longer have a use for it."
Severus looks up at Draco, narrowing his gaze. "You did?"
Draco meets the eyes of his mentor, black flint and ice grey.
"Yes."
One word.
Moment. Silence. Flickering of torches, click of dishes, murmur of voices.
Moments.
"I can't help you."
Words like lead falling, catapulting through the air.
At one point Severus' answer would have caused Draco to fly off, angry, insulted, and many other things. Even four years ago, or perhaps, even yesterday, he would have let the emotion show through in his eyes, his mouth, tone of voice, tense nature of his shoulders.
Tonight he stays easily relaxed in his chair, his eyes don't even flicker, and his mouth is set in a neutral line, pale in an already pale face.
"Why?"
Tone flat.
Giving nothing away.
Tonight Severus loses the game and his face gentles, harsh features softening just slightly.
"Draco," a soft voice, "A bloodstone is not easily destroyed. It is nearly impossible to do so."
A flicker of something, quick, so very quick, passes through those silver eyes and then disappears.
Severus sits back in his seat, his dark hair framing his face as he studies Draco. The gentleness is gone.
"But you wouldn't know that would you?" He says it with a slight sneer, trying to provoke.
Draco just stares at him.
Severus keeps the eye contact, moment.
Broken by the arrival of their dinner.
Severus looks down at his plate, picking up his knife. The air around them is thick.
Cutting into his fish with precision, Severus does not look up from his dinner as he addresses Draco. "Did you read the book?"
Whirling, whirling, whirling.
Draco stares down at his own dinner and he is not hungry in the least.
He picks up the knife and cuts into the sirloin. "Yes," he answers.
Severus takes a bite of his fish, looking up and watching Draco closely, very closely. "And you discussed it with Miss Granger?"
There. A brief flinch, so very brief that even if someone were looking for the reaction they would have missed it.
Severus does not.
Draco swallows his bite. "Yes. We discussed the field that was created by the binding spell. She believes that is where the dark arts and the light magic were blurred creating this grey and unnamed field of magic."
"And what do you think."
Another bite. Slowly chewing. Swallowing.
"I believe she is correct."
Severus nods, eating the dinner in front of him. "Have you discussed what it is the two of you are going to do about it?"
Draco wipes his mouth with a napkin, looking every bit the aristocrat, even in the middle of the run down Three Broomsticks.
He places the napkin next to his half eaten dinner. "We did not get a chance. I believe we will meet with the Headmistress to discuss what it is we need to do."
Severus takes another bite. "Did you already recreate the spell then?"
Moments. Moments.
The old professor almost grins in triumph when he sees the slight crack in Draco's person, the slight tensing of a jaw line, just so very slight. If he could see Draco's magic, he would see the grey turning darker and darker, into black.
Tinged with blood red.
As it were he sees the jaw line and knows.
But is not quite sure what he knows.
"I don't think it will be necessary."
Moments.
"On the contrary Draco. It is essential."
Severus lips flutter, a brief smirk, brief, enough for Draco to see it.
Gray eyes harden to silver.
Steel.
Another cut into the fish. "For you see, to create something for others to understand you must first understand."
"We understand enough," a quick reply. Too quick.
Severus halts his movement, the bite of his fish half way to his mouth, holding the knife in the air, raising an eyebrow. "How? Because you once did this spell when you were a child, a child with no understanding of anything? Memories Draco? Do you pull your understanding of memories ten years gone?"
A slight tremble of the hand.
No answer.
Severus brings the knife up to his mouth, taking the fish between his teeth and chewing. Slowly. Slowly.
Waiting.
Sheer force of will, stubborn, control, pride.
Draco does not drop the older man's gaze.
Severus looks down at his plate and cuts another piece of fish. "Its not enough Draco. The spell is too complicated to be solved by memory alone, no matter if you believe it is enough. You and Miss Granger will have to recreate it, there is no other way, but you know this already, don't you?"
Another pause.
"But," he continues, "That is neither here nor there. Tell me, why do you want to destroy the bloodstone?"
A trick, changing the subject quickly, no room for thought.
Draco's answer immediate, controlled, a testament to the change.
"I have my reasons."
This time Severus does not contain the smirk. "Come now Draco, you know I could get the reasons if I wanted to, why don't we just do this the easy way and you tell them to me."
A comment like this would usually push Draco over, the control would break, fall apart.
This time the man across from Severus does not even blink.
Though a calculated smirk raises the side of Draco's mouth, just slightly. "I realize this, but I also realize that you respect me enough to leave information I want kept private, private."
Draco does lean forward then, dark robes rustling. He continues. "My reasons are singular, of no use to you. If I cannot destroy the bloodstone then there is no need for this line of conversation to continue."
A smirk, more than a smirk, a dry laugh. "Oh my boy, that is not the way to go about this at all." Dark hair shaking slightly as if the older man is trying to contain his mirth. One eyebrow, slightly raised. "Something happened between you and Miss Granger, something that has changed the dynamics quite significantly, and now you want to be rid of this compulsion do you not?" Severus leans forward this time, voice dropping to that melodic whisper of dangerous territory, "But Draco, perhaps you should have realized the consequences of binding through blood magic, through family blood magic, before making the decision, because now," a slight shrug to black clad shoulders, "It is far too late."
Dark black eyes wait, narrowed just slightly, waiting.
A pause.
No emotion in the pale face of the wizard, in the grey eyes, but something in the tone when Draco finally answers. "What are you speaking of Severus?"
"Do you not know?" The same voice, just slightly louder than inaudible, "Then perhaps I suggest you find out."
Severus stands, throwing coin on the table, his plate clear of his meal.
"Come to me when you have an answer, and I will tell you how to destroy the bloodstone," Severus says, then picks up his book and disappears in the crowd.
The control.
It fractures.
Pain.
Draco looks down to see blood pooling where he clutches the knife blade in his hand, cutting into the skin.
He lets the knife drop, watching the river of blood move down his palm, red against the white, slowly, gathering at the edge and falling.
The blood pools on the wood surface of the table.
Black in the dim light.