September 19, 2000
Iris waited until she and Draco neared the steps leading out of the Dungeons to unveil a surreptitious request.
Born from her desire to use the spare time gifted by Slughorn's hurried exit to visit with Hagrid and Neville, she'd proposed that Draco stay behind and wait around for the Bloody Baron to deign the shadowed corridors of the Dungeons with his ghastly presence.
She'd figured the suggestion to be a simple one, logical even, particularly because her identity as a Muggle-Born meant that the Baron may not reveal his intel on Regulus Black if she was around.
Draco, however, had been less than thrilled over the prospect of parting ways.
He'd seen it as a weak effort of avoidance, as her sly determination to escape the tension that threatened to suffocate them both.
He hadn't been wrong, but she'd refused to admit it.
So, she'd insisted, and he'd caved—a grumble under his breath, one that she hadn't been able to discern as she raced up the steps, had been the only sign of his persisting displeasure at being placed on sentry duty.
Putting distance between her and her moody, blond shadow attributed to the rush of relief she felt as she exited the castle. The open air, the chill of autumn creeping around the corner, soothed the anxiety that had bloomed within her chest as she'd traipsed around the castle, as she'd struggled to resist the intoxication of Draco's presence.
She couldn't believe the revelation he'd drawn from her lips, couldn't believe that he'd been able to divulge the truth of her jealousy over his relationship with Astoria before she even admitted it to herself.
She blamed it on the Amortentia, on the haze of lust the potion emitted as it was brewed.
Gods, I can't wait to get back to London. She thought bitterly as she jogged down the steps that led to Hagrid's hut.
She spotted the half-giant near the gate to his garden, waving a burly hand as he bid farewell to his Care of Magical Creatures class. She cheerfully shouted, "Hagrid!" as she neared his hut, ignoring the awed glances of the students that she passed by.
Hagrid's enormous brown eyes darted towards her, a grin that spread from one ear to the other curling onto his face. The warmth of his smile lightened her heart, melting away any unease that had rooted itself within her bones.
"Iris!" He bellowed. "I didn' know you was comin' to visit!"
"I wanted to surprise you!"
"And what a wonderful surprise it is!" He cheered before enveloping her with his tree trunk arms and sweeping her off her feet, giving her an enthusiastic twirl before setting her back on the ground.
"I heard about the Treacle Tarts crisis from McGonagall." She said as she readjusted a few stray hairs that had escaped her bun. "How're you holding up?"
Hagrid grimaced at the mention of his poisonous pastries. "Poppy still 'asn't figured it out how everyone got so sick, only that the tarts was the common factor!" He curled his beard around his fingers thoughtfully. "I've been raking me brain tryin' to figure out what went wrong, but, eith'r way, I shan't be bakin' for a while."
"Maybe that's for the best." Iris squeezed Hagrid's arm and he nodded solemnly. "I know you probably have a class to cover, but, if you have some time to spare, how about a cup of tea?"
"I always got plenty 'o time for tea!" The half-giant's face brightened. "I do 'ave to cover Muggle Studies for Professor Karasu but that's not for another hour."
"Great." Iris smiled brightly. "Do you have honey?"
"Heaps of it! I always got to be ready for whenever yeh visit." Hagrid chuckled. "Follow me inside. I'll put a pot on, and while we wait, ye can catch me up on why Draco Malfoy was seen following yeh around the castle."
Her eyes widened from surprise. "How do you know about that?"
"The Fourth Years were too busy talkin' 'bout the two of yeh to focus on class!" He exclaimed. "I'll admit I was o' bit surprised to hear from 'Arry that he'd taken Malfoy on but when I heard he was followin' YEH around—"
"Is Fang inside?" Iris interrupted, her eyes darting towards the hut behind Hagrid as she desperately tried to change the subject. "Please tell me you've gotten the slobbering under control. Hagrid, he could drown himself if he isn't careful—"
Hagrid's loud belly laugh interrupted her.
"Iris, I know what yer doing." He wiggled a finger at her. "But yeh know I'm not one to push. Come on, come on, let's get inside."
She smiled graciously at the half-giant as he waved her along ahead of him.
And a mere five seconds was all she had to spare once she entered the hut—five seconds to accumulate to her surroundings before Fang raised his droopy head and a bark of pure glee erupted from his throat as he caught sight of her.
The Boarhound bounded from his bed near the stove and Iris was shoved onto the hardwood floor as Fang catapulted into her, giggling ferociously as he lathered her with slobbery kisses.
After she finished her cup of tea, and once she'd used Scourgify to clean her clothes of Fang's slobber, Iris bid farewell to Hagrid with another hug and set off on a search for Neville.
She headed for the greenhouses, hopeful that he wasn't somewhere inside the castle covering a class, or worse, laid up in the Hospital Wing with a sick stomach.
She came upon Greenhouse Four first and poked her head inside, startling a few Seventh-Year students studying various stages of Aconite growth. Afterwards, she tried Greenhouse Five and was greeted with the sight of Neville's prized Mimbulus Mimbletonia prominently displayed upon the elongated worktable.
She stuck her tongue out at the plant, still harboring a grudge from Fifth Year when she'd accidentally bumped into it and wound-up covered head to toe in Stinksap.
It wasn't until Iris wandered into the Vine Vicinity of Greenhouse Three that she found Neville.
He had not seen her enter, as his back was to her, and his soft cooing at a line of potted Mandrakes had muffled the sound of her footsteps.
"Professor Longbottom! I knocked over your Mimbulus Mimbletonia and now all of Greenhouse Five smells of Stinksap!" She imitated the high-pitched a tone of a younger student. "What ever shall we do?"
Neville spun around, eyes wide and mouth agape.
"Bloody hell, Iris!" He scolded. "You're not half as funny as you think you are, you know?"
"Oh shush, I was just having a little fun." A devious smile curled her lips as she strode towards him, her fingers playfully intertwined behind her back. "And you're so handsome when you're flustered, I couldn't resist."
His eyes narrowed. "I can't stand you."
"It's good to see you too." She laughed as she swung her arms over his shoulders. He feigned resistance to her embrace, but soon relaxed within her grasp and squeezed her back tightly.
"When you asked me to deliver those envelopes for you, you failed to mention that Draco Malfoy was involved." He arched an eyebrow as she leaned back into his arms still twisted around her waist. "Although, I am appreciative he doesn't seem to be with you now."
"Odd. I swear I told you about that—" She smiled sheepishly, and Neville rolled his eyes. "Speaking of said envelopes, don't you have a Venomous Tentacula to introduce me to?"
Neville's eyes lit up with remembrance over the deal they'd struck Friday. "Yes! I know you couldn't care less about plants but, Iris, I swear, you are not going to believe the spikes on—" His arms fell from her waist. "What's that on your neck? Are you hurt? It looks like a bruise."
Oh, fuck. Iris thought.
The hickeys.
The hickeys that were nearly healed, enough so that she hadn't felt the need to use a Disillusionment Charm, but her continued proximity to Neville had allowed him to see what others throughout the day had not been able to.
Except for Draco, of course.
She laughed nervously as her hand shot up to cover the marks.
"Fang throttled me to the floor of Hagrid's hut, must have left a mark." She explained hurriedly and then enveloped Neville's palm with her own. "Show me this plant, will you? I don't have all day!"
"Uh, okay—Whoa!" Neville exclaimed as she tugged roughly onto his hand.
Her steel grip jolted him away from the Mandrakes, and he narrowly avoided aggressive plants and sharp worktable edges as he struggled to keep up her pace, resigned to shouting directions to the Venomous Tentacula over her shoulder.
"The spikes are impressive, but, Neville, why does it have fangs?"
"That's where the venom is stored."
"Venom!?"
"It's called the Venomous Tentacula for a reason."
". . ."
"Slughorn almost got bit about a week ago, old man tried to cut off its leaves for a potion."
"It bites?! With the fangs?!"
"How do you not know this already? Sprout spent weeks teaching us about it Sixth Year. Honestly, did you ever pay attention in Herbology?"
"Sometimes, but only on Thursday."
"Iris."
"I was preoccupied with other things."
". . ."
"For the love of Merlin, why is it so red?"
"I really can't stand you."
After spending more time than Iris would've preferred inspecting the Venomous Tentacula, she and Neville ventured into Greenhouse Two and ran into Professor Trelawney snipping leaves off chamomile and mint plants.
"Sybil!" Neville shouted and the Divination Professor spun around, her enormous glasses enhancing the surprise within her eyes as her gardening scissors hit the ground. "I'm going to lock you and Horace out of the greenhouses if you keep stealing the leaves off the plants."
Trelawney's expression transformed from surprise into offense. "Pomona was much more hospitable, you know. She would share her plants eagerly, but you, my dear, no, your possessive need to control your environment prevents you from being so amicable."
Neville's jaw went slack. "You have truly lost—"
Iris shoved Neville behind her before he exploded on Trelawney.
He was the kindest man she'd ever known but he had a vile temper when protecting his plants.
"We were just passing through, Professor Trelawney." She feigned a smile. "It was nice to see you."
"Iris Sinclair." Trelawney whispered as their gazes locked and the soft utterance sent chills down her spine. "Oh, poor girl, your ghosts have intertwined with your shadow. They follow you everywhere, they're with you now."
Iris' chest tightened anxiously.
She did not ask for validation from Professor Trelawney that she was haunted by her past.
"Goodbye, Professor." She said as she took a step backwards.
Before Iris could move another inch, Trelawney lashed out and tightened her fingers around her wrist. The Divinations professor froze once their skin made contact and a horrific groan passed through her lips as her eyes glassed over.
"Neville, is she—" Iris shifted closer to Neville, still locked within Trelawney's grasp.
Neville's eyes were wide with fright as he said, "Uh huh. I think so."
A voice that sounded much too guttural to be Trelawney's filled the greenhouse.
"The past threatens to repeat itself through a vendetta not yet fulfilled. The burden of blood, a father's fear come to fruition, if success is achieved. Under the light of the moon, the sins of the father shall mold the future—or the beat of her heart shall steal it."
Once the voice was finished speaking, a harsh rattle erupted from Trelawney's throat and her head smacked against her chest.
Her grip around Iris' wrist faltered and she and Neville jumped with fright once Trelawney's head frantically shot upward, her eyes alert as they darted around the greenhouse.
"Oh my, did I fall asleep standing up again?"
Iris and Neville parted ways after the incident with Professor Trelawney—the First Years were headed to Greenhouse One for a lesson on Devil's Snare and Iris had needed some space to collect herself after her interaction with her old professor.
She found herself racing towards the castle, not out of eagerness to return, but from the desire to find Draco. They'd split up nearly two hours ago, making it well past the time to regroup, and if anyone could help her make sense of Trelawney's rambling, he could.
Iris wrung out her hands as she reached the Entrance Hall, the feel of Trelawney's grip around her wrist still crawling across her skin. If she never ran into the Divinations professor again, she wouldn't be remorseful.
Once her feet hit the flagstone, she spied Draco and McGonagall standing together outside the entrance to the Great Hall. The pair were conversing animatedly—McGonagall mimicking pulling her hair out as a look of stress twisted her features, Draco visibly shaking as he resisted the urge to burst out into laughter.
It calmed her to see him interacting so positively, so cheerfully, with one of their old mentors.
With an affectionate pat on Draco's arm, McGonagall ended the conversation. Draco shot her a genuine smile before the Headmistress spun around on her heel, turning her back on her former student and thus causing her to face Iris directly.
The Headmistress waved at her before storming around the corner, just as Iris reached Draco's side.
"Where's she going? You didn't question her without me, did you?"
"Nice to see you too." Draco drawled as he eyed her out of his peripheral. "I didn't ask her anything, she's late for a meeting, but we did hash out our schedule for the rest of the day."
"Which is?"
"Slughorn will be able to speak with us after dinner." He said matter-of-factly. "McGonagall before breakfast."
"After dinner?" Her brow furrowed from confusion. "Before breakfast?"
"Yes." He said a bit reluctantly as he turned to face her head-on. "McGonagall is having the guest chambers near the library prepared for us. She and Slughorn are running rampant trying to keep the castle afloat and she felt guilty for having us travel here just to be put off repeatedly."
"Guest chambers? Why would—"
A cloak of panic encompassed Iris' shoulders.
"No." She choked out as she met his gaze directly. "Absolutely not. I can't—I am not staying here." She shook her head. "I—I—we can Apparate back to the townhouse and return tomorrow morning."
"And waste an opportunity to continue investigating the castle? Waste a chance to pursue new leads from the information we've gathered? I thought you were more efficient than that, Sinclair."
"That is not what this is about!" She cried, on the verge of a meltdown, and then entirety of what he'd said struck her. "Wait, what new leads? Did you speak with the Baron?"
"Yes, close to an hour ago."
"And?" She pushed.
"And he recalled a few nights he witnessed Regulus sneak a girl into the Slytherin Common Room, also said she was a Ravenclaw."
"So, we can narrow it down to one House? That narrows our suspect pool down to three or four girls."
"Possibly." Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek. "But, as I was saying, that's why it makes sense for us to stay here tonight. The ghosts will be more active, and we'll need to search for the Grey Lady, she may know something useful."
"She won't speak to us. We're not Ravenclaws."
"So? I thought the challenge of it all would be thrilling for you."
He raised his brows at her as he awaited her rebuttal.
She sighed loudly as she considered his every word.
He was right—about the Grey Lady, about her, about nearly all of it.
The best shot they had at digging deeper into Regulus' relationship was at the place where it started—at Hogwarts.
"Fuck, I hate when you sound logical." She said as she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, an attempt at steeling her nerves against being forced to stay within the castle longer than she'd ever intended.
She opened her eyes to find Draco's gaze burning into her, his silver eyes tinted with concern.
"What's going on? You've been inside your head ever since we arrived."
She groaned. "That's none of your concern."
"I happen to think it is."
"Draco, leave it."
"No." He growled.
His aggressive tone sent her blood roaring furiously.
"You really want to know?" She spat.
"Yes." He said without hesitation.
"Fine." She crossed her arms defensively. "If you must know, the happiness that once existed for me within this castle has been replaced entirely by despair. Whenever I find myself within these walls, I am suffocated by the memories of the past, tormented by the ghosts that haunt these corridors. All I see are the lifeless bodies of those I loved laid out in the Great Hall—"
Her eyes flitted over Draco's shoulder, into the Great Hall, and her breath hitched as her heart panged.
"Fuck, Sinclair, I shouldn't have—" He laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't touch me." She growled as she pushed his hand away and returned her eyes to his. "You wanted to hear it? Here it is. I hate myself for making it out alive when they didn't. I hate myself for surviving while Remus, Tonks, Fred, and so many others had the rest of their lives stolen by a flash of green light."
Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain her breath, struggled to stabilize her sorrow.
Draco hung onto her every word as she continued.
"And then there's you." She spat venomously as she jammed a finger into his chest. "The one that brought about the extinction of the joy I felt here the day you let the Death Eaters inside." His grey gaze darkened at her words. "Do you feel any remorse? For causing so much pain?"
"Of course, I do, I'm not heartless."
"Are you sure about that?"
"For Merlin's sake, Iris—" Draco trailed off as his eyes left hers and flitted to something over her shoulder. He clenched his jaw, a sign of annoyance, before grumbling, "Come with me, we're drawing a crowd."
"What?" She hissed as she shifted her gaze to her surroundings.
Scattered groups of students were hanging around the Entrance Hall, their body language indicative of their interest over the argument unfolding before their eyes. While some pretended to be engrossed within their own conversations, darting glances towards Iris and Draco ever so often, others had taken the less inconspicuous path and were unabashedly staring at the pair.
Desperate to escape the attention they'd brought upon themselves, Iris resigned to being led by Draco to a nearby alcove. He nudged her behind the tapestry that hid the nook's inhabitants and cast Muffliato to deter any further eavesdropping.
To fit inside the alcove the pair were forced into an uncomfortable proximity, nearly chest to chest as she leaned her head back to meet his heated grey gaze.
"Go on." He demanded. "Ask me."
She threw her hands exasperatedly. "Ask you what, Draco?"
A sound of pure annoyance erupted from his throat as he tore his eyes from hers.
"Why must you always be so fucking difficult?" He spat as he maneuvered around her to sit on the slab of stone underneath the window. "I know you have questions—some from years ago, some from the past two weeks—and I have the answers. Ask me."
Iris furrowed her brow, crossing her arms as she stood defiantly before him. "I have nothing to—"
"Stop lying. It's a waste of time." He snarled. "Ask me. We're not leaving here until you do."
"Not leaving?" She scoffed. "I thought you understood that backing me into a corner isn't an effective interrogation tactic." She motioned around the alcove. "In case you were unaware, alcove is just a fancy word for corner."
"I'm optimistic that this will be the exception." He taunted. "And you're not the one being interrogated here, I am."
His eyes were alight with determination, the cold steel of his irises leading to a rise of goosebumps across her skin. "Go on." He repeated placing his palms on his knees, his posture rigid with defense as he steeled his nerves against her imminent inquisition.
Frustration at being led into this conversation pricked at Iris' nerves.
She had many questions, and she craved the hard truth of his reasonings, his explanations.
And yet, she found herself battling the possibility of escaping the alcove, of running from this conversation. An alarm bell of skepticism rung throughout her mind, spurred from the disbelief that he would be willing to lay himself bare for her like this.
Later, she was appreciative her unrelenting curiosity won out over her tendency to distrust.
"Why work for the Ministry?" She asked. "Why the Auror Office?"
"The Ministry offers the most impactful path to restoring the Malfoy legacy. The best shot I have at rebuilding the bridges my father burned is from the inside, and a position within the Auror Office showcases just how willing I am to put away bastards just like him." Draco answered. "But that's only one reason. You know the other."
"For me."
"A hundred points to Gryffindor." His lips curled devilishly. "The newspapers are obsessed with yours and Potter's cases—it wasn't difficult to discover where you'd ended up after the War and I planned accordingly. We had unfinished business you and I, we still do."
Refusing to allow his suggestive words to affect her, she continued onto her next question.
"Was everything that happened between us Sixth Year a lie? And is that why you never told me about what you'd been tasked to do? About the Mark? It must've been, there were far too many opportunities you could've used to open up if you'd truly cared."
"None of it was a lie, you know that." He said ferociously before softening his features. "But I understand the desire for affirmation. As for not bringing you into that particular cycle of torment, the only explanation I have is the one you hate the most."
"That you were trying to protect me."
"Yes."
"Bloody hell, Draco. We could've figured something out." She said. "Dumbledore could've—"
"Dumbledore could've done what?" His eyes betrayed his underlying resentment for the old Headmaster. "That old prick only cared to help the students with a scarlet and gold tie knotted around their necks. His help would've led my mother and Snape straight to their deaths."
She couldn't argue with that—she was also left with a feeling of bitterness at the memory of Dumbledore, at how easily he'd allowed children to sacrifice their youth to become soldiers.
"Fine." She sighed. "What about the nine months I spent on the run? Why didn't you try to find me?" She hesitated before finishing with, "For fuck's sake, why didn't you leave Malfoy Manor with me?"
"And put you and my mother in further danger? Absolutely not." He answered. "They would've been able to track my location through the Dark Mark if I had left with you. Not only would Voldemort have murdered my mother for my betrayal, but I would've led them right to you. That was not an option."
She loathed how rational his answers were, how incapable her teenage brain had been at understanding his motives.
"The Battle of Hogwarts, then." She continued. "The War won, the fear erased, and you still left. You couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye. Why didn't you stay? Why? When I needed you more than ever?"
"It wouldn't have been right." He sighed. "You needed to mourn, to heal with those that fought alongside you, and I was facing a life sentence in Azkaban. You didn't deserve to be tied to a man that had a chance of never seeing the light of day again."
"That wasn't your decision to make!" Her shout was coated with agony. "I needed you!"
The hurt, the regret that flashed within his eyes tightened her throat.
"I'm sorry." He lamented. "Is that what you want to hear? That I'm sorry for hurting you? For not giving you a choice? Iris, I am sorrier than you will ever know, but I told you before that I will never apologize for trying to keep you safe. I believed that what I was doing was right and a part of me still does."
She thought an apology had been what she needed to hear, that answers would give her some peace of mind, but, truthfully, she felt worse off than she had before.
She wasn't the only one that deserved an apology.
She trained her eyes on the ceiling as she said, "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for not understanding, for being so far on the other side of things that I couldn't see how you were being affected as well." Tears threatened to pour down her cheeks as she said, "But most of all, I'm so sorry for never writing to you while you were in Azkaban and for not visiting during your house arrest. I couldn't Draco, I would've crumbled at your feet, I'm so sorry I just couldn't—"
Her gaze shifted back down to his only to find an unreadable emotion within his eyes.
A single tear trailed down her cheek.
"Come here." He whispered as he reached out and twisted his fingers around her belt.
He separated his legs as he pulled her closer, bringing her to his chest. His hands traced up her arms and stopped at the inside of her elbows, his fingers softly gripping her in place.
"Iris, I want to be with you. There has never been anyone else but you, not Pansy, not Astoria, and there will never be anyone else but you."
"I don't believe you." She cried. "Not when the Prophet is plastered with photographs of you and Astoria every single day."
"It's not real, it's—"
"Not real? What does that even mean, Draco?"
"That's Astoria's story, not mine, but what I can admit to you is that our pretending is only to please her family." His tone was threaded with desperation. "It's only until she and Daphne figure out the least damaging way to cut ties with their parents. On that, I need you trust me."
"And what about the other night? When she stayed with you at the townhouse?" Iris interogatted. "She was wearing your shirt."
"You wear Potter's and Weasel's clothes more than your own." He scoffed. "And, as for her sleeping over, are you trying to tell me that you've never crashed on Weasel's couch? That you've never slept in the same bed as Potter? You shared a tent for months for Merlin's sake."
He did have a point.
"I see what you're saying, but—"
"But what?" Frustration twisted his features, his grip on her tightened. "Tell me what I need to prove, and I will do it."
It was all too much.
Her brain couldn't process it fast enough and her anxiety threatened to cut off her oxygen as result.
She tore her arms from his grasp and took a step backwards.
"I—I have to go."
And without another word, she fled from the alcove.