October 16, 1991
Every morning, between her first and second classes for the day, Iris would visit Hagrid the Gamekeeper at his hut on the castle grounds.
Her friends joined her most days, Harry the most, but this morning she'd knocked on Hagrid's door alone and she was beginning to understand why.
"Hagrid, I can't bring a baby Niffler to Transfiguration with me." The creature laid across Hagrid's large, outstretched hands, belly up with a Galleon in its paws. "It's my Wednesday class with Slytherin and they would out me to Professor McGonagall in a heartbeat."
Creatures of the kleptomaniac variety were rightfully banned as pets at Hogwarts.
"It's only fer a couple hours, I'll be back before lunch is ov'r and you have to go to yer Flying lessons." Hagrid pleaded. "I just fed Nigel. He'll be asleep b'fer you know it."
The Gamekeeper, out of a desire to grow the largest pumpkin the Hogwarts' Halloween feast had ever seen, had taken various trips to Diagon Alley as of late to purchase supplies for his garden. Unfortunately, the arrival of the baby Niffler on his doorstep earlier that month had complicated his well-thought out and detailed plan.
The creature required constant supervision as it eased into adulthood, or, as Hagrid learned the hard way, it would only stir up trouble. He'd left the Niffler alone for only an hour the week prior and, in that short amount of time, it had managed to sniff out the stash of Galleons under the floorboards and had hid the coins within its belly pouch.
Hagrid still hadn't managed to shake out all the missing money.
He'd resigned to bringing the creature along on his trips to Diagon Alley, however, a few days ago, it had snagged a memento, or seven, without Hagrid's knowledge, and now the half-giant found himself patted down whenever he entered and exited Slug and Jigger's Apothecary.
"You waited two weeks to choose a name and you settled on Nigel?" Iris asked.
"Nigel the Niffler 'as a ring to it don't ye think?"
She snorted. "I suppose so."
She glanced at Nigel the Niffler again and observed as the creature curled in on himself, clutching the Galleon closely to his chest.
He looked mere seconds away from a peaceful snooze.
Iris met Hagrid's big brown eyes and found herself unable to say no.
"Oh alright." She sighed as she stretched out her hands. "Give him here."
The grin that crossed Hagrid's face could've brightened up even the darkest room.
"Oh, thank ye, thank ye! I'll be sure to pick ye up something special for the trouble."
Hagrid gently placed Nigel onto her palms and she slowly tucked the Niffler within the inside pocket of her robes. She was able to hide him and keep an eye on him this way and, as he was still a baby, he had more than enough room to move around and get comfortable if needed.
Nigel curled up against the soft fabric of her robes and yawned, his tiny pink fingers losing their grip on the Galleon.
"You owe me." Iris jabbed a finger at Hagrid before beginning her trek back to the castle.
She walked slowly to prevent Nigel from madly bouncing around within her pocket, her slow pace giving her only a couple minutes to spare before the start of class as she arrived outside Transfiguration.
Harry and Ron had yet to enter the classroom, as they tended to wait for her to arrive if they weren't already together, and she approached the boys with an inkling that they already knew what she had been walking into when she'd gone to visit Hagrid.
When she cautiously revealed the contents of her inner pocket to the boys, they confirmed her suspicion all too well when they burst into laughter.
Her face grew warm with fury as Harry and Ron revealed that they'd bet she would be the one to give into Niffler babysitting duty.
Hagrid had pleaded with the boys at breakfast, but as they were still healing burns inflicted from feeding Hagrid's Fire Crab, refusal came easily. They'd claimed to be late for a meeting with Professor Flitwick before class and had bolted away from the Gamekeeper.
Iris had stayed up far too late the night before reading up on the history of the Merpeople in the Black Lake and had slept through breakfast. She'd barely made it to Charms before Flitwick began class, and she would've been starving if not for Hermione snatching her a blueberry muffin.
"I knew there was a reason neither of you wanted to come with me today!" Iris gasped. "You could've warned me!"
"And miss this?" Ron grinned cheekily. "Absolutely not."
She grumbled a curse under her breath and smacked Ron with her Transfiguration textbook. Harry laughed as the redhead whined and nursed the point of impact on his arm, so she rewarded him with a sore spot of his own.
"I'll get both of you back for this." She warned before stomping into the classroom, the sound of Harry and Ron's wounded howls following her to her seat.
Iris' desk was situated in the left-hand corner of the classroom, closest to the wall and partially hidden from view from the rest of class. While the location of her desk eased the anxiety of her situation, unfortunately the issue of her tablemate could not be helped.
She eased onto her spot on the bench and adjusted her robes so the pocket the Niffler was sleeping within rested on top of her leg. As she slowly retrieved her materials for class from her bag, Draco Malfoy strode into the classroom and towards the desk they shared.
He shot a disgusted sneer her way, "Sinclair."
"Malfoy." She drawled, mocking his tone.
He narrowed his eyes at her as he slammed his Transfiguration textbook down.
Her friends hadn't fared much better than her in terms of tablemates.
Ron shared a desk near the front with Vincent Crabbe, Harry was situated towards the middle with Pansy Parkinson, and Hermione had been assigned a spot on the opposite side of the classroom next to another one of Draco's cronies, Blaise Zabini.
Iris adored Professor McGonagall but her idea to place one Gryffindor and one Slytherin at each desk to promote inter-house unity was utter bollocks.
All fared as normal for the first half of class as Draco and Iris engaged in their usual battle of contempt. Draco "accidentally" kicked her in the shin numerous times, Iris "accidentally" knocked over his jar of ink and watched with glee as it spilled all over his notes.
She almost forgot about the sleeping Niffler in her pocket—
Until the slightest movement to her right stole her attention away from Professor McGonagall's lesson on Reparo and her eyes widened in horror at the sight of Nigel the Niffler slowly making his way towards Draco's hand resting on his knee.
The hand adorned with an obscenely large silver ring.
Iris screamed inwardly, knowing she couldn't move to grab it. There was a strong chance the sudden motion would frighten the poor thing and it would go scurrying out the door or further into the classroom.
She risked a glance at Draco and froze.
He'd noticed and his eyes were locked onto the Niffler, assessing the situation.
"Malfoy." She hissed.
He remained silent.
"Malfoy."She tried again.
"What, Sinclair?" Draco spat poisonously.
"You know what. I know you see it."
"What? The leaves stuck in your braid? The mud on your robes?" He surveyed her briefly before returning his gaze to Professor McGonagall. "Yes, you oaf, I see the Niffler. My question is how did it get in here? And why are its beady eyes locked onto my family ring?"
"I'm babysitting it." She ground through her teeth, resisting the urge to shove Draco off the bench. "And his name is Nigel."
"Nigel?" His brow furrowed. "That's a horrible name."
Nigel froze at the sound of his name being spoken not once, but twice, and Iris and Draco's eyes darted towards the front of the classroom to avoid the creature's gaze. The moment passed and Nigel quietly settled by Draco's ring finger, reaching out with his tiny pink fingers to twist off the silver band.
"Malfoy, I have an idea." Iris whispered, her eyes flitting between McGonagall and Nigel. "All you need to do is slowly bring your hand to one of the inner pockets of your robes and he'll follow. Once he's close, slip the ring off your finger, drop it into your pocket, and he should jump in after it. He's only a baby so staring at your family heirloom should preoccupy him for the rest of class."
"And why should I decide to go along with this little plan of yours?" Draco hissed. "I could just as easily get McGonagall's attention right now and bust you for bringing this thing to class."
"Because—" Iris sighed with resignation. "I'll copy my Transfiguration notes for you for a month."
"What makes you think I want your notes?" He asked incredulously.
Gods, she was going to murder Hagrid.
"You need high marks to compete with Hermione for top of class and I know that you didn't well on the last exam because you're too busy finishing up your Potions coursework to listen to McGonagall's lectures." She rambled, her cheeks warming with embarrassment as she relayed her observations. "So, either you ask Snape to lighten the workload, which sounds like it would be a delightful conversation, or you take the opportunity being handed to you."
Draco was dumbfounded.
"The rest of term." He declared after a period of silence.
He slightly moved his hand closer to the inside of his robes which caused the Niffler to start crawling across his knee to follow the shine of the ring.
"What?"
"Copy your notes for me for the rest of term. Until after Christmas."
"Absolutely not." Iris spat. "A month and a half."
"You need something from me first, not the other way around." He arched an eyebrow. "I want your notes for the rest of term, or I yell for McGonagall and you spend the rest of the month in detention with Filch."
After Iris murdered Hagrid, Draco was next.
"Fine." She conceded.
"See?" He smirked. "Was that so difficult?"
She resisted the urge to wipe that smirk off his face he led Nigel to an inner pocket of his robes and slipped the ring off. When Nigel bounced in after it, Draco laughed loudly and goosebumps rose along Iris' arms at the sound.
She was surprised to discover that he had a nice laugh when it wasn't at the expense of others.
"Mister Malfoy, something you'd like to share?" Professor McGonagall announced, her wand pointing from her hand menacingly. "Or do I need to separate you and Miss Sinclair?
The rest of the students spun around so they were facing Iris and Draco.
"No, Professor." Draco's lips curled with delight as he reveled in being the center of attention. "Sinclair and I have simply found your practice of inter-house unity to be quite rewarding."
Iris smiled weakly at Professor McGonagall to corroborate Draco's story and the witch eyed her two students suspiciously before continuing on with class. The concerned looks she received from her friends meant she was going to be thoroughly questioned at lunch and she dreaded the thought of having to speak about the bargain she struck with the Slytherin sitting beside her.
As if on cue, that expression of pure delight remained upon Draco's face as he retrieved his Potions textbook from his bag.
As he began reading through the passage on Wiggenwald Potion that Professor Snape had assigned for that afternoon, he glanced at her once more and sneered, "Get to writing, Sinclair."
Iris groaned audibly before lying her head on the desk in defeat.
September 4, 2000
"I'll wake Kreacher up and then you can follow me upstairs." Iris said, reluctantly meeting Draco's eyes as she stood from the armchair.
He nodded agreeably and she brushed past him, her heart twisting at the all too familiar scent of his cologne.
"Kreacher, pop up to bed." She whispered as she shook Kreacher's shoulder gently. "We're all settled here."
The House-Elf woke with a start, eyes wide as he jumped up from the dining chair. "Kreacher is awake!" He shouted.
Iris laughed softly at the sight.
"Kreacher, you're dismissed for the night." Draco declared. "Go get some sleep."
"You don't have to tell Kreacher twice." The House-Elf yawned as he stretched his thin arms above his head. "Goodnight Mistress, goodnight Mister Malfoy." He bowed to Draco once more before reaching out to Iris and squeezing one of her hands with both of his.
And then, with a snap of his fingers, the House-Elf disappeared.
"I could get used to the bowing." Draco said, amusement threaded within his voice.
Iris spun around on her heel to face him. "Watch the way you speak to Kreacher." She spat venomously. "No one gets dismissed in this house, we're free to come and go as we please. Wizards, witches, and House-Elves alike. Understood?"
"Understood." He agreed with a smirk.
"Good, follow me."
She eyed him suspiciously as she brushed by him once more and then passed under the archway separating the kitchen and the entryway. She had only taken the first step up the staircase when a pile of variously sized luggage sitting mere feet away caught her eye.
How had she missed that when she first came downstairs?
There had to be at least fifteen trunks.
"I hope you have your wand handy because I am not carrying those." She arched an eyebrow. "What did you do? Bring a year's supply of hair gel with you?"
Draco chuckled. "I didn't expect you to lift a finger."
The sound of his laugh sent chills down her spine.
"And I haven't used hair gel since I was twelve." He continued as he joined her on the first step. He then pulled his wand from the back pocket of his trousers and said, "You, of all people, should know that."
He cast Wingardium Leviosa on his luggage and her eyes were drawn to the grip of his hand around his wand.
Her face warmed as the memory of those hands on her body was brought to the surface. Her eyes seemed to develop a mind of their own at the thought, traveling from his hand to his face to his body, roaming every feature desperately.
He had been a shadow of his former self the last time she'd been this close to him, his body so lean and haggard that he looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept in days. Now, his sweater pulled tightly against his chest as he lowered and raised his wand repeatedly, the muscle he had acquired apparent through layers of clothing.
The pointed angles of his face were maturely defined, not as sharp as they'd once been, and he'd grown out his platinum blond hair. The occasional cluster of hairs ended in a soft wave and Iris resisted the urge to reach out and wrap the strands around her fingers.
He looked healthy, physically at least, and grown up.
"You're staring." Draco drawled as he finished stacking the trunks midair.
"I was not." She argued. "I was examining a rip in the wallpaper that Harry and I missed last weekend."
"You've always been a terrible liar, Sinclair."
"And you've always been a great one."
He flinched at her words, but she pretended not to notice.
She spun around on her heel and beckoned him to follow her up the stairs, the floating trunks hovering close behind. Once they reached the first-floor landing, she pointed and explained what lay beyond the doors they passed. "The drawing room with the archaic Black family tree tapestry is in there, that door leads to the study—"
She halted in her tracks, feeling a little foolish. "Am I just repeating what you already know? I shouldn't have assumed—"
"My mother never brought me here." He assured her as his eyes surveyed his new surroundings. "Aunt Walburga died when I was only five so there was never any reason for us to visit."
"Well, from what I've been told, and from what I've experienced living here, she didn't seem to be the most pleasant woman. I don't think you missed out on much." The pair resumed their trek up to the second floor. "Harry and I threw out all of the warm and inviting décor she used to collect. You know, the self-portrait that screams whenever she senses a Muggle-Born, the mounted heads of House-Elves, and, my personal favorite, the troll leg umbrella stand."
Draco whistled disapprovingly. "As a child, I was always so focused on my standing as a Malfoy, never a Black. If I'd known half of what I know now about the cruelty of my mother's family—"
Iris glanced up at him, unsure how to respond.
They spent the rest of the walk to his bedroom in silence.
"This is it." She said once they reached the door at the far end of the second floor.
She twisted the doorknob and opened the door, ushering Draco inside. He brushed past her and the fireplace opposite the bed roared the moment it sensed someone in the room, the flames glowing an electric green.
Draco's floating trunks crossed the threshold and Iris followed afterwards, leaving the door open behind her. She leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms across her chest as Draco waved his wand and laid the trunks at foot of his bed.
"Cozy." He mumbled, looking over his shoulder at her.
"I'll head out so you can get settled." She said as he laid his wand on the bedside table and sunk onto the black and green flannel duvet. "Harry's bedroom is on the fourth floor if you need anything. It's the first door by the stairs."
Draco rested his hands on his knees. "And what about yours?"
"I'm on the third floor, but I don't expect you to come for me for help." She scoffed as she leaned off the doorframe. "Like you told Kreacher, you never let me before so why start now?"
"Iris." Draco sighed and the sound of her given name on his tongue sped up the beat of heart. "Why did you agree to let me live here? As much as I enjoy testing your patience, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable in your own home."
"Thinking of someone other than yourself? That's new." She jeered. "And I didn't agree, not necessarily. Harry sprung it on me after it was already decided, I didn't have much of a choice."
"You still could've said no." He said as he bore his eyes into hers. "Potter would've backed out if you'd asked him to, you know that."
"Yeah, well, we're adults and I'm trying to behave like one. I'm trying to be okay with this." She rambled. "I'm trying for Harry, and only for Harry. He seems convinced you've changed."
"And what about you? Do you think I've changed?"
"No." She answered without hesitation. "I don't know if you're capable."
Draco snorted at her response but otherwise remained silent.
Iris turned her back on Draco, preparing to take her leave of him when Harry's words from earlier rang throughout her mind. "It'll do you both some good to set some rules, or boundaries."
"Harry was right." She began as she spun around slowly. "If we're going to be working together for the next few months, I think some ground rules need to be established. It would be best for both us to have boundaries set."
"I agree." He exhaled and, for the first time, she noticed the severe hints of exhaustion in his voice. "What did you have in mind?"
Iris parted her lips to respond but the resounding slam of the front door cut her off.
Shortly after, the voice of Ginny Weasley floated up the stairs. "Iris Sinclair! Get your arse down here!"
A wave of relief rushed over her at the sound of Ginny's voice.
She was immensely grateful to redhead for giving her an excuse to save this conversation for another day.
"We can talk about it tomorrow." Iris backed out of his bedroom, confusion crossing Draco's face at her hurried exit. "Get some rest, it's been a long day."
Without waiting for his response, she disappeared from his view and rushed down the stairs.
The crushing anxiety she felt in his presence lessened as she put a significant distance between her and the Slytherin, but she still had to pause outside the door to the drawing room to catch her breath. Her heart hammered within chest and her lungs felt stretched thin, the physical effect he had on her was nothing new but the reappearance of it was startling to say the least.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, counting backwards to center herself. Once she felt the beat of her heart slow, once her breathing stabilized, she opened her eyes and drifted down to the ground floor.
Harry and Ginny were unloading the food onto the dining table and at the sight of the Weasley, Iris rushed towards the girl and wrapped her arms tightly around her. If Ginny was startled by the action, she didn't let on because she squeezed her just as strongly.
"How are you doing?" She whispered.
Iris snorted. "Ask me tomorrow."
The girls released one another from the embrace and Iris locked gazes with Harry over Ginny's shoulder. He was holding up the bag of food meant for her, a cautious smile plastered across his face.
He wanted to talk, that much she knew.
But, at that very moment, Iris resented Harry.
She resented the fact that he was a good person, that he was capable of believing that even the worst people still had light left inside. She used to feel the same way, but the War had changed her, and she resented a different person for that change.
She couldn't bear to look at her best friend with such anger lying within her veins.
"Harry, not tonight. I'm going to eat, run a bath, and then go right back to sleep."
"Alright, alright, but I'm not going to let you brush this under the rug." He handed her the bag that held her precious gyro. "I know you're upset with me, and you have every right to be, but please don't let this build up inside."
He hadn't meant to sound patronizing, but it boiled her blood all the same.
"Thank you for dinner, Harry," was all she said before she Apparated to her bedroom.
The flames of Iris' fireplace roared gold when she appeared next to her bed.
Her snow-white cat, Nyx, who had been suspiciously absent the entire evening, was curled up on one of her crimson, silk pillows. She kissed the cat on the top of her head before drifting over towards her desk chair and plopping down, ripping open the bag of food as she did so.
She took the first bite of her gyro, her stomach grumbling with glee and her sole interaction with Draco replaying within her mind.
Boundaries, the word kept flashing across her thoughts.
There needed to be boundaries.
She was halfway through her dinner when a moving photograph framed atop her desk caught her eye, one of her and Hermione from only a few days before the start of Fifth Year.
The two girls were proudly holding up the rolls of parchment that detailed their bestowment as Gryffindor's newest Prefects. Harry and Ron stood behind them, the boys' faces transitioning from genuine smiles to crossed eyes and stuck out tongues.
Ron had breathed an enormous sigh of relief that day—there'd been a rumor going around that he was going to be chosen over Iris and he'd been distraught. He barely followed the rules himself and had been horrified at the thought of having to set an example for the other students.
The four of them didn't have a clue at the time that they would be forced to read Dolores Umbridge's "Educational Decrees" for the better part of that school year.
Her eyes widened as the memory sparked an idea.
She didn't have to speak with Draco to set boundaries, she could just as easily put them to parchment.
Emboldened by the idea, she reluctantly set her gyro down and dug through her desk drawers until she found some loose parchment and a half empty jar of ink.
A few minutes passed and the parchment laid blank beneath her quill, not yet illustrated with ink.
Her mind was empty, void of any decree of her own. She sat there staring at the parchment, willing her hand to move of its own volition, and yet the only thought at the forefront of her mind was the exact opposite of what she needed to write.
It was the thought that boundaries were irrelevant and that rules were frivolous, and that deep down, even if she did manage to write out a few sentences, a part of her would still want Draco to cross every line and break every vow.