Hi! So this isn't the happiest of chapters and if you've read this far, you're aware of Theo's death and such, but please read below for some untagged additions!
Trigger/squick warning! This chapter vaguely mentions the torture/death of an animal due to the use of Unforgivable curses. It is not tortured in scene, but mentions of it in the past. As it is not tagged nor is something I really enjoy writing, most of it is pretty vague and quick. You can find these mentions of animal abuse and death marked with a XXXXX so you can prepare or skip!
Trigger/squick warning! There are also some moments of violence/child abuse (though mentally older, Lucius still sees Draco as 15). Again, they have been marked with a XXXXX so you can prepare or skim or skip! Thanks! Please let me know if you'd like anything else marked!
They didn't get to say goodbye.
They decided they wouldn't meet in the Room of Requirement on the night of Arthur's attack. It was too risky with Ginny being woken up by McGonagall in the dead of night. Hermione had promised she'd be able to sneak away between classes and packing for her return to Grimmauld Place.
As far as promises go, it wasn't one she was able to keep with the way Umbridge tracked her every move. McGonagall did as well, trying to deter the aforementioned witch. They never spoke, but as she glanced across the Great Hall during breakfast, he knew that was the most he would be getting before leaving.
Draco sat on the Hogwarts Express with Crabbe, Goyle, and Theo. The compartment stayed quiet for the most part. The whole train was unusually quiet overall. No one knew why Potter and the Weasleys left in the dead of night, but the whispers and gossip all ultimately led back to the fact the Ministry was hiding: Voldemort was back.
The quiet was welcomed by Draco. He watched the countryside pass by as he mentally prepared for his father, locking all his memories away and burying Hermione deep in his heart. He had a plan for his time home. A plan that had worked once before, but just not for Draco.
There were no Malfoys on the platform when the train returned to London. Even though he knew that his parents only came to the platform for the first day and the end of the school year, something in Draco still hoped. Then he remembered this wasn't a different timeline until he made it such.
Tisley stood right where he remembered, looking around, completely oblivious as she took in all the people and new fashions. She wore a coffee filter as a skirt and he made a promise to get her clothes before things got too bad. At least she deserved to get out of there before the darkness overtook her too.
The little house elf spotted Draco. She ran over to him, smiling and waving; her skirt made her look ready to dance ballet. "Hello, sir! Your parents–"
"Had more important business," he finished for her. He remembered this winter break all too well.
He looked around the platform with a sign, blowing his fringe from his eyes. Tisley looked so much younger than he remembered. He didn't treat her right back then. Not until after his Seventh Year, at least when he was under house arrest. Maybe home would still be the same, but he could change this small aspect.
Maybe Tisley wouldn't be so sassy when he was hungover.
"Draco."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Call me Draco."
"Yes…sir Draco," Tisley squeaked.
He snorted a laugh at how stupid it sounded. "No, just Draco."
Tisley looked ready to combust, unable to refuse his question but also confused at the sudden change of attitude.
"Yes, Just Draco."
"Good enough," Draco chuckled, holding out his hand so they could Apparate.
Draco stood at his bedroom window looking down at the gardens below. A colored peacock walked among the white ones, proud and regal. It didn't know yet that pride was lethal; that it would be forced to join the rest before the break was up.
A deep fog had settled over the Manor grounds; Draco knew it would not lift until Voldemort died. It was a shame, really. The gardens below were like art in full bloom; now, they would become barren sticks like gravestones.
His bedroom was in a state of clashing between his childhood and teenagedom. There was a nameplate in the shape of a dragon from above his bed; he'd had it since he could remember. But on the walls were Quidditch posters, and a spliff Marcus Flint once gave him was hidden at the back of his bedside drawer.
"Draco, love, you're home," his mother's voice entered the room, accompanied by a soft knock at his open door. He turned to find her standing in the doorway, her features still fierce and unbroken.
Draco tried to remember the last time he'd seen his mother. Years ago. Even longer since she looked like this, gorgeous and strong instead of the broken wisp of a woman she was these days. Or last he heard, at least.
She moved into the room with a soft smile on her lips and her arms open for him. Part of him didn't want to go to her. He didn't want to slip into the past so quickly, but the closer she got, the more his resolve broke. Before he knew it, he wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, and buried his face in her neck. She smelled like he remembered, and her warmth was still so pure.
A quiet sob wracked his body, and hot tears leaked from his eyes. This was the woman that saved Harry Potter's life to save her son. The one that still had so much hope for them to live happily in the future. She didn't know about the Darkness in the Mark yet; she didn't know how no matter what she did or how the war ended, her son would not be the same after this summer.
"Oh, darling, what's wrong?" his mother whispered as her fingers drifted to the hair at the back of his neck, playing with it soothingly as she hugged him fiercely.
"Nothing," he murmured, "I just missed you."
"We have a few days, just us. Your father is away on business for the next few days," she reassured him.
Draco nodded. He remembered.
"Shall we have some tea, and you can tell me about how school is going?" she offered, pulling away to look at her son's face.
"Yeah," Draco swallowed and let her go. He was just her height, but he'd be taller by the end of winter break. "Lots to tell."
Draco sat on the end of his bed, dressed in black jeans and a black cashmere jumper, waiting with his wand in hand. The last few days had been quiet at the Manor, but he remembered today. Today his father would arrive home, and everything would start to change.
The knock came right at ten, and his door swung open with abandon. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, dressed in black Wizarding robes and with a look of boredom. Draco flinched as his father entered the bedroom.
This time he was prepared. He filed away his memories of the past and refused to look away as the tendrils of his father's magic began to poke at his mental walls.
The two Malfoy men stared each other down, trying to establish dominance. Eventually, Draco relented and allowed his father to see a few select memories. He knew he couldn't reveal the strength of his Occlumency skills. It wasn't safe to be more powerful than his father. Not yet, at least.
"Your mother told me you've been rather emotional since returning home," his father said, making a face of disdain.
It was true, though. Draco spent most of his free time with his mother in the past few days of being home. He joined her in the garden for tea and sat in the sitting room, reading on the couch opposite her as she worked through her social calendar. They talked about nothing important, but having her there was important enough.
"I was just spending time with her so she wouldn't try to take me away from our lessons as she did in the summer," Draco said, standing from his bed and pocketing his wand. His father gave him another once over, letting his magic poke at Draco's thoughts to confirm the truth.
When Lucius was content with what he saw, he nodded and swept from the room. Draco knew that he was to follow.
He had forgotten nothing of these walks. It was how they always were as father and son. Draco was to stay a few steps behind, never to step on his father's cloak, and remain quiet. Questions were wholly forbidden.
Draco followed his father to the staircase down to the cellar. While his father continued down the steep stairs, Draco paused at the top. He had forgotten his lessons were in the cellar.
Luna Lovegood's large eyes looked up at him from the dark. Her mouth lifted in a soft, sad smile like she felt sorry for him instead of upset she was his prisoner.
He blinked, and she was gone.
Draco's stomach curdled.
"Draco, we don't have all day," his father snapped from the doorway at the bottom. Even with contempt in his voice, he still looked bored. "Severus can only be here for so long."
Draco nodded and resumed his walk down into the cellar. It was still musty and dark in the room, but there was a chandelier of candles to light the space. In the center of the room stood Snape, still in the black robes he wore when teaching, looking slightly annoyed and disgruntled. Behind him stood a beautiful and colorful peacock.
The door slammed shut behind him, making the candles flicker.
"It's time for you to learn the Unforgivables. You'll be starting with the Cruciatus Curse, one of Snape's favorites," his father explained, walking towards the middle of the room.
"To perform or receive?" Draco sassed.
XXXXX
A cruel slash of a million knives ripped through his skin. Draco's knees buckled, and he took a step forward to steady himself, knowing that if he fell, his father would only curse him longer.
The curse stopped as quickly as it started, but Draco could feel the tingle of pain settle in his nerves. He cursed under his breath but refused to make any other sort of sign that he was hurt in any way.
"A sample of what you'll be practicing today," his father said. "Do you need a second refresher?"
"No, sir," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"I have business and won't be back for a few days; please allow me to regain some hope in your magical abilities," his father explained with dismay in his tone. He clucked his tongue softly. "Honestly, Draco, you let the Parkinson girl end things? Pathetic."
Ah, yes, the bit of his memory he did allow his father to see. It was just a moment of his and Pansy's conversation, enough to make his father think he broke past his walls and into his most intimate moments. Hermione and the future were still safe; Draco bit his lip not to smirk.
Draco waited as his father left the cellar, his footsteps tapping on the marble floor above until there was complete silence once more.
He kept his eyes on Snape, wondering in this life what his next move would be. They hadn't spoken in private since that first day, but Draco had noticed a small shift in Snape's demeanor around him. There was always an underlying cautiousness.
"I need you to teach me wandless magic," Draco said, deciding to speak first. He had attempted to teach himself wandless magic the past few weeks since discovering that it was a trait of his Mark, but it was slow going.
Snape's face flickered with confusion before going back to its boring mask. "I'm to teach you–"
"I don't care. Wandless and nonverbal," Draco said, pushing his sleeves up and moving toward the center of the room with Snape.
"If you don't learn the Unforgivables," Snape started, "I won't be able to protect you from your father. Or worse."
Draco knew what Snape meant. That it was not just his father's request that he be trained in Dark Magic in the months leading up to his sixteenth birthday.
"I don't need you to teach me," Draco said with a shrug. Snape regarded him skeptically.
XXXXX
Draco wet his lips and glanced back at the peacock waiting for him. This was nothing like his first holiday break. He had listened then. He stood in the center of the cellar shaking, stuttering out curses, and trying to keep down the bile that threatened to come up at every tortured squawk of the bird in front of him.
Snape sighed in annoyance. "Draco, there is more to this than learning curses."
"I understand," Draco nodded. He could see the struggle in Snape's eyes.
"If you don't learn these, then I cannot protect you," he repeated, and Draco understood. He straightened his back and looked Snape squarely in the eye.
"Then don't."
Snape's black eyes flickered with a stubborn rebuttal. His mouth twitched with whatever harsh and cruel remark was brewing inside. Draco was sure his mentor wanted to tell him he was being stupid and to curse the damn bird. But the man swallowed and nodded his head.
"Wandless and nonverbal magic," Snape conceded, "Any other requests?"
"No," Draco shook his head, "not yet."
Draco closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. The tie around his neck was suffocating. The room was too hot for the blazer his mother insisted he wear. At least she allowed him to keep the ensemble all black.
It wasn't just the clothing causing his skin to crawl, but from his spot on the Nott's sitting room couch, he could see the doors across the hall that entered the office. The last time he opened those doors, Theo was lying dead in a pool of blood.
The metallic smell of blood wafted through the air, making his stomach churn. Theo, pale and pure, missing his entire arm, was marred with smoke and splatter. The sound of Pansy sobbing and the weight of her body as it tried desperately to sink to the ground.
"I said I brought you your damn book," Pansy's voice shook him out of his thoughts as she pressed the rose-colored book into his hands. The room came back into vision with all the people in their elegant holiday outfits making small talk as they waited for Christmas Eve dinner to be served.
"Have you talked to Theo yet?" he asked, eyes snapping back to hers. He tucked the book into his jacket pocket before anyone noticed the exchange. A pink blush tinged her cheeks, and she tried to hide behind her hair as she looked away.
"I've been talking to you," she snapped at him, but her fingers fidgeted with the tule on the emerald green gown she wore. She matched the holiday decorations of the Nott Manor so well that it was like she had planned it.
"Salazar's tits," Draco grumbled and stole the drink from her hands. It was too sweet for his liking, but at least the alcohol burned.
"Look, it's not as simple as you think–" she said, sidestepping to avoid a floating mistletoe trying to find its next victim.
"It's as perfectly simple as I think, Parks. You're not the only one with a Soulmate," he snapped at her. He looked around for a House Elf to order a second drink.
"You have a Soulmate?" Pansy nearly yelled, causing the people around them to turn around.
He noticed his mother look in their direction, raising a perfectly sharp eyebrow in question. She probably assumed he was about to make a scene with a lover's spat. Draco swore under his breath and then pulled her away from the people all milling around the sitting room.
Once in the hallway, Pansy gave him a shove. "You said you were becoming a Death Eater."
"Well, yes, that is still a plan," he shrugged. "A possible one. Maybe."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Who is it?"
"Who is who?" Blaise asked, stepping into the hall with them. "Your mother asked if you could take this somewhere private," he said, nodding to the office door.
While Pansy stepped towards the door, Draco shook his head and started down the hall. He didn't care if he was making a scene. There was no way he was stepping foot into that office, new timeline or not.
"Draco, where are you going?" Pansy hissed after him. He didn't answer as he could hear the click of her heels as she followed. When he finally reached the outdoor patio, decorated with fairy lights and Christmas angels, he stepped outside, welcoming the frigid night air.
Except he noticed someone else was already there.
"Theo, what the fuck," Draco groaned. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to remember more of this night, but the only thing he could remember was shagging Pansy in the third-floor guest room.
Merlin, he really was a bastard friend.
"I just wanted some air," Theo shrugged.
"Did you know he has a Soulmate?" Pansy asked Theo and Blaise.
Blaise shook his head, but Theo bit his lip, looking from Pansy to Draco. "I feel like this is a trap."
"So you do know!"
"I mean, technically, I didn't know she's his Soulmate," Theo hedged. Blaise raised an eyebrow, leaning against one of the tables and pulling out a cigarette. He lit it with a snap of his fingers; Draco would have been jealous if he were not fielding Soulmate questions. His wandless magic was still not where he wanted it to be after three days of lessons.
Draco groaned as Pansy's eyes widened. She turned to him, and he quickly stepped back so she wouldn't shove him again. "Who is it?"
"Why do you care?" Draco told her.
"Because we tell each other everything," she told him firmly.
"You didn't tell me you're in love with Theo," he countered.
Pansy froze with murder in her eyes. She turned to Theo; he was still taller than her, even with her heels, but her intimidating stance was not to be ignored. "Tell me."
Theo looked from her to Draco, biting his lip. "I can't lie to her."
Draco was going to pitch himself off the balcony. Of course, the fucking bond would ruin everything. There'd be absolutely no secrets between them once they sealed it. One of the only reasons Draco was somewhat grateful he and Hermione had not just yet.
"Oi," Blaise shouted, making all three turn towards him. He pointed just above their heads. "Mistletoe."
Above Theo and Pansy floated mistletoe adorned with a big red bow. It was impossible to miss. Better yet, it was magical. Draco smirked and moved over to Blaise, stealing the cigarette.
"Come on now; can't move till you kiss," Draco smirked.
Theo was as red as the bow. He seemed to look everywhere except at Pansy. Pansy was also rather flustered. Draco had never seen her act like this, especially not with him. She swallowed hard and tucked her hair behind her ear.
Theo took his moment before reaching out, taking her hand in his. Their eyes locked, and something pulsed between them so heavily that even Draco could feel it. The gold in his blood danced and cheered. It hummed with excitement and encouraged the glow around his friends to grow brighter.
After that, time stood still while they moved quickly. Theo leaned down just as she pushed up on her toes to capture his mouth and sink into his body. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he hugged her tightly against his body, pulling her from up off the ground.
The gold in Draco's blood hummed in jealousy; he's been trying to ignore how much he missed Granger. Not even having her to sleep next to was causing his limbs to grow heavy and his veins to throb.
"Maybe we should give them some privacy," Blaise suggested, stealing back the cigarette. Draco nodded, unable to tear his eyes away. He knew what Luna meant 677when she said she could see the bond. He understood the beauty.
He looked back to Blaise and nodded. They didn't need to intrude any longer.
"Watch out for the nargles," Draco called out as he and Blaise left the patio and snogging lovers.
Christmas morning at the Manor went as smoothly as Draco remembered. Then again, it was only him and his mother exchanging gifts wrapped in dark navy paper with silver stars charmed to shoot across the night sky. It wasn't very cheery, but it was exactly as he remembered.
After opening up a lovely sweater and some of his favorite books, Draco spent the morning with his mother in front of the fire. She read from the book of poetry he got her while he sat by her feet, working on trying to snap fire between his fingers.
Sometime mid-morning, their peace was disturbed by a sickening crack.
"Your father's home," his mother smiled, having no idea of the turmoil inside her son.
Draco nodded and followed her into the dining room to welcome his father home. Everything seemed to be all pleasantries. They exchanged gifts, and his mother recounted everything missed at the Nott party the night before. For the most part, Draco kept his head down, counting the minutes until his father moved on to the next order of business.
"Follow me, Draco," he said, "I'd like to see how you've been getting along in your lessons."
Draco nodded and followed his father once again down the cellar stairs. It was still dark and musty; the peacock snoozed happily in its cage in the center of the room. The sight was enough to raise suspicion. A moment later, Draco felt his father's magic pushing at the sides of his skull, breaking down walls, throwing aside whatever it could find to learn the truth.
Draco did his best to keep his father out of the things that truly mattered, but the harder he pushed, the more Draco felt his knees weaken. A red light filled his mind, and his father pulled out quickly, smirking. He'd seen Draco cast. Not in the cellar, but somewhere, sometime.
"Cast the Cruciatus Curse."
"No."
"No?"
"I said no."
"Fine, I will."
XXXXX
Sharp blades crossed Draco's skin leaving hot gashes through his nerves. A scream left his throat as he crumbled to the ground; this was nothing like the other day. This had anger and regret built inside its cast. Draco's fingernails dug into the stone floor, trying to find some sort of bearing for the pain.
It didn't stop suddenly this time. Instead, the pain lingered even after his father finished casting.
"Stand up and cast."
Draco moved to sit, but he did not stand. He locked eyes with his father. "I'd sooner cast it on you."
XXXXX
Once again, pain devoured his soul. He couldn't stop his screaming or the tears down his cheeks. His body twisted in on itself, his insides pulsing with pain inside and out.
The pain consumed him, but Draco kept his mind blank. He refused to let his physical weakness allow his father in mentally. He needed to keep the future safe. He needed to keep everyone he loved safe too.
He fell to his side once more, curling up tighter and tighter as the curse wreaked havoc on his nervous system. He tasted blood from biting his tongue.
"Fuck you."
XXXXX
And Lucius stamped, hard, on Draco's face. Draco felt his nose break; blood spurted everywhere.
St. Mungos was not how Draco spent his Christmas day the last time he was fifteen. He could almost hear Granger's voice telling him he was changing too much. But when his mother's Episky couldn't even set his nose straight, she whisked him away before his father returned.
So now they sat in a private hospital room, a compress soaked in healing potions, not speaking a word. He knew she had so much she wanted to say and do, but she was still silent. He wanted to yell at her, to question how she could have heard their fighting and his screams and not come down sooner.
But he also knew if she had, she might be the one with black and blue circles under her eyes. She might even be worse off, and only the House Elves would have been able to heal her.
Draco banged the back of his head against the wall.
His mother shot him a look from across the room. "You only have yourself to blame for this."
Draco opened his eyes. The light from above was giving him a headache. "Me?"
"Yes, you. I understand where you are coming from, but your main priority should be to keep yourself safe. To stay alive ."
Draco groaned and closed his eyes again. If she only knew how much he understood that. If she only knew he was here again in order to stay alive.
"Rather be dead than have the Mark kill my soul," Draco shrugged. It was the most honest thing he'd revealed to her all break. His mother wet her lip and looked towards the ceiling, organizing her thoughts before finding him again with clear blue eyes.
"They didn't just let Sirius leave; he had to run and have somewhere to run to that could protect him," she explained calmly.
Draco blinked.
"I'm your mother. I don't need Legilimency to know you're different," she said, waving him off with her hand. He wondered how different. "Do you have somewhere that will keep you safe?"
"No, not yet," he bit his lip. He had someone, that he was sure of, but he knew he wouldn't be accepted with open arms if he just showed up at Grimmauld Place.
"Then, until you do, stay alive," his mother instructed just as the door opened and a Healer in bright green robes entered.
Once his nose was set and straight again, the Healer frowned slightly at their diagnostic chart floating near Draco's head.
"It shows you're still in high amounts of pain?" he frowned. "Possibly from magic?"
Draco took a deep breath and shrugged. His mother had given him a pain potion before coming to settle his fried nerves. A broken nose was one thing, but signs of the Cruciatus Curse would cause alarm.
"You said you broke your nose flying?" the Healer questioned again.
"Yes. I was gifted a new broom," he said.
"Maybe the magic from the broom transferred in the collision," his mother played dumb.
The Healer frowned harder. "I highly doubt that Mrs… oh," the Healer paused as he checked Draco's chart. He stuttered a few times before starting again. "Mrs. Malfoy. I suppose that's probably what happened. Yes."
And with that, the appointment was over. Draco followed his mother down the hall towards the lifts. A soft laughter drifted from the other end, catching his attention. The gold bubbled in his veins excitedly; Hermione looked up at the same instant as if hers did the same.
"Fucking hell," he grumbled. Hermione stood at the other end of the corridor, waiting for the lift. Unfortunately, she was not alone.
As they approached, Potter, Weasley, and the younger Weasley all noticed him as well.
"Potter, Weasleys," Draco said when they were near, "Granger."
He liked the way she couldn't hide her smile.
They all nodded hello. The silence was awkward and strained. Potter looked exhausted and shifted away from the conversation like he was too tired to deal with this at the moment. Draco felt the same, but his body was pulling closer to Hermione. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around her. He wanted to kiss her like how Theo kissed Pansy. He needed her.
"Happy Christmas," Hermione attempted.
"Happy Christmas," Draco said, trying to hide his chuckle at her extreme optimism that this interaction could go smoothly.
"Oh, yeah, Happy Christmas," Potter spoke up, running his hand through his messy hair, which was looking worse for wear. Thankfully everyone seemed too tired to pick a fight.
He watched as Hermione's eyes ran over his face, taking in the sunken bruises from his broken nose that would heal in a day or two. She slightly raised an eyebrow, questioning both the injury and his being there in the first place. He understood. St. Mungos on Christmas was expected for her. His appearance was new.
He looked away from her before she could pry with those honey-gold eyes that made him weak. His eyes landed on the two gingers that were eyeing him skeptically for a different reason. "How's your father?"
Weasley regarded Draco skeptically as if he was trying to decide if the question was a sarcastic gab or genuine concern. For a while it sounded like the latter, it was hard to believe it couldn't be the former.
"He's good… should be home soon," Weasley spat out awkwardly. He glanced at Draco's mother for a moment before going back to Draco, obviously keeping his manners in check for Draco's mother alone.
She seemed to sense this too. "Draco, love, we should be going."
"Actually, if I may, could I borrow Draco for a moment? I have a question about the Runes essay due at the end of break, and these two aren't in Runes," Hermione jumped in. Draco smirked but quickly dropped it when he noticed his mother rolling his eyes ever so slightly.
"Very well. I'll meet you in the lobby," his mother said. She kissed his cheek for show while giving his arm a hard pinch. Oh, he was definitely getting a talking-to later.
"You can go on without me. I'll be right there," Hermione told her friends, motioning for them to step into the lift.
"I can wait," Weasley offered heroically. Draco had to bite his tongue not to tell him to bugger off.
"Honestly, I'll be only five minutes," she rolled her eyes. It seemed to be enough because before he knew it, he was standing in an empty corridor with Hermione frowning up at him.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" She stepped closer, reaching up to touch the bruises under his eyes and search his eyes for any sign of trauma or concussion. Her touch warmed his skin and softened the dull ache.
He shook his head. "I'm fine," he lied.
She sighed, then smiled softly. "I got your gift."
"Thoughts?" he smiled back.
"It's not a gift if you give me the same present twice, is it? Technically, in some universe, it's already mine," she told him in her know-it-all way that made everything just feel better. Everything else was a mess, but she was still her and she was still his.
"Now it's yours in every universe," he said, stepping closer to lean down and kiss her softly. The gold sang in his veins. It pumped through every limb and lit up his nerves. The ones burning in pain were now floating, humming softly like in a gentle breeze.
"Are you sure you're fine?" she asked when they pulled apart, running her fingers softly at the bruises under his eyes that still lingered.
"My father. I refused to practice the Cruciatus Curse," he explained. He didn't add in the irony that it was the same thing he'd done to Potter back in his Sixth Year; he doubted she'd find it as funny.
"But if you already know it. It can't be that bad to practice. If it's going to get you hurt–"
XXXXX
"Granger, you can't just cast the curse. It has to be on something," he explained softly. "How do you think the peacocks turn white?"
Her face paled in horror. "Do you mean? They're not albino? They're white because– oh, that's awful."
He nodded. "It's a Malfoy tradition."
She pressed her forehead to his chest and hugged him tightly. "Come back with me. You shouldn't have to go through this again."
"Barely two months, and now all you want to do is change the future," he chuckled. He remembered what his mother had just told him. That he didn't just need someone, but somewhere to run. He had to earn that. But he would.
"Well, I've been thinking, and you're right. It's going to change soon. If you come now, then it will help convince Dumbledore–"
"Convince Dumbledore?" he interrupted with a raised eyebrow. She looked away with whatever she didn't tell him. He let out a frustrated sigh and shook it all off.
"I'll be fine, nothing I haven't experienced before," he calmed her. He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her once more. "You need to get back to your friends before they think I've kidnapped you."
She laughed. "I don't think your mother believed me for a second."
"Oh, she most definitely did not."
In the cellar still sat the colorful peacock. Draco refused to look at it as he stood in front of Snape, wand tucked away, casting spells he learned in his early years, but this time without a wand.
"You've been practicing," Snape regarded him, crossing his arms over his chest.
Draco nodded. Each time he cast, it became easier, like memorizing how to spell a word. He'd already begun using wandless magic without truly realizing it, stirring his tea with a twirl of his finger and pushing a door open before he reached it.
"I hear you were injured recently," Snape said cautiously, gauging his student's temper.
Draco sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. The bruises under his eyes had healed, but there was still blood on the floor where he'd been lying.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Draco shrugged, his eyes focused on the stain. It wasn't just a reminder of his pain but his past. How he had become the abuser; that he had become his father as young as his Sixth Year. It had been his greatest fear, and yet he'd become Lucius without even realizing it until all these years later.
He flinched when Snape's hand touched his shoulder.
"Your father–" Snape started, but Draco shook his head. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't need to know that his father had his best interest or was only trying to keep him safe. After his mother, then Hermione, he didn't need a third opinion. He was already on a different path than before.
"Stop, please. I know he's trying to protect me–"
"He's trying to protect himself," Snape interrupted this time. Draco froze and looked up at his mentor. "Your father has been given an impossible task and offered you up for collateral to be the perfect follower. If you're not, then you'll both be punished."
Draco swallowed. He knew this from before, but at this age, he'd been treated as a child and kept in the dark. "I'll do anything not to get the Mark. You can tell Dumbledore that."
Snape blinked. "How do you know–"
Draco shrugged and looked around the cellar. The bright peacock snoozed in its cage. The corner Luna used to sleep in was bare and still just a normal corner.
"It doesn't matter," Draco said, looking back at his Potions Professor.
"He's not as accepting as he looks."
"You mean he'd want me to become a spy."
"Most likely."
Draco nodded. "I'll think about it."
Theo's room was nowhere near Draco's. Without a motherly touch or any softness in his life, the room was just a cold reproduction out of a furniture shop. A very expensive furniture shop, but lifeless all the same.
The only bit that was any part of Theo was his desk, scattered with books and parchment. Nothing for school and everything for getting his mother back to him. Though instead of sitting at his desk, only paying half attention as he normally did, today Theo sat on the floor next to Draco, passing back and forth the whisky bottle they'd pilfered from Nott Senior's cabinet.
"I think I spooked her," Theo sighed, frowning at the floor. He dragged his fingers through it, creating shapes like hearts. "She won't reply to my letters."
"What'd you do? Propose?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow until he noticed Theo's face blush only slightly. "Merlin, you proposed?"
"Not exactly!" he groaned and took a long sip of the whisky. He ran his hand through his curls. "I just said I wanted a forever with her. And I understand we only just snogged, but when she's even near me, it's like everything finally drifts away. I don't feel so…"
"Dark?" Draco offered, and Theo nodded. "It's the same with Granger. It's the glow, I know, but there's also something that makes the light and the good have a chance."
Theo took back the bottle, gulping down large sips before gasping for air from the burn. "When you told me I would die, eventually, I was okay with it. I was kind of even happy about it. But when she kissed me… fuck, Draco, I don't want to die."
Theo brushed the back of his hand across his cheeks, hiding any evidence of tears. They were told they couldn't cry. That men don't. That Death Eaters don't. Draco drank from the whisky, long hard gulps, letting it burn him from the inside out.
He wished he knew the answer. There were still so many what if's. His mother's words drifted through his mind. Then Granger's. Then Snape's. Then all the years, he was told differently by everyone. Becoming a Death Eater would kill him, but if he didn't, would Theo be the one that stepped into his shoes? Would Blaise?
If he ran to safety like his Mother suggested, would they become the ones hunted?
They didn't talk after that. They couldn't. They only drank and sat with their thoughts, letting the darkness of their futures seep into their souls and snuff out the light. There was too much to think about, to wonder and question. No wonder Theo went a bit mad in his last days. Draco felt like he was going mad now.
He also thought about the past as he knew it. He thought about all those years under Voldemort's control, even after he died. He thought about the astronomy tower and what that would mean if he turned now. Would someone else get the task of killing Dumbledore? Or maybe Dumbledore wouldn't die at all.
He wished he knew what fate was and what was up to chance. He wanted to know what he could change and what would always remain the same. He wanted to be an adult again when none of his decisions were life or death.
Mostly, though, he wanted Hermione.
He thought about writing to her. The gift with no note was one thing, but a letter was risky. She could say the book was from anyone, even Krum though Draco rolled his eyes at the thought. A note would be harder to explain away. Unless Krum was still writing her love letters too.
A soft jealousy bloomed in his heart, not making him miss her any less.
He spent the majority of his break in his room. Save for a New Year's Eve party where he got ridiculously drunk and passed out at the end of Blaise's bed with the other three also lying across it. He hadn't even been sober when he got there. He didn't want to think or talk about the goings on in the darkness that now hovered above him like a rain cloud.
Thankfully, at the stroke of midnight, Theo gathered up the courage to grab Pansy and kiss her better than Draco knew anyone could, right there in front of every Pureblood family that ever lived. Or followed the Dark Lord, at least. When she kissed back, it was as good as sealing a forever.
He wished to wrap Granger up in his arms and kiss her at the magical hour. There was something unholy about starting a new year without her by his side. It made his bond nervous for everything to come. It only made Draco's darkness grow.
Suddenly, there was a pop, and before him stood an old and rather grumpy house elf that he'd never seen before in his life. Draco put down his book and stood from the seat by his window where he'd been spending his morning hiding.
"Draco Malfoy? From the Most Noble House of Black?" he asked. When Draco nodded, the elf bowed so low his nose touched the ground. "I have a letter for you and you alone."
As soon as he touched the letter, he knew who it was from. He chuckled slightly.
"Thank you," he mumbled, making the elf gasp.
"It is my greatest pleasure!"
Draco snorted. Sure, it was.
He broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out a note written on flowered stationery.
I feel awful sending Kreacher, but I know he's the safest option. To be honest, he almost cried when I asked him to go to the Malfoy Malfoy. Said it was an honor. So at least I can trust this will get to only you.
I miss you terribly. I can't stop thinking about St. Mungos. Maybe there is a way to get you to our side. Snape came by to tell Harry he'll be teaching him Occlumency. It didn't go very well in the past, but you're very good at it, aren't you? Maybe you could teach him.
Draco rolled his eyes. He doubted the other boy wanted him possibly rooting through his mind.
Don't roll your eyes at me. You'd become friends before. I'm sure you can do it again. Anyway. I just hate the thought of you in that house. I just want you safe. And near if possible. I miss you. I already said that but it's so deep it hurts some nights. New Year seemed wrong without you, but I hope you had a happy one.
I was saving this for when we returned, but I hate you had such a poor Christmas. I remember you carrying one around before. I always meant to ask where you got it if it was an heirloom or a gift, but I think I got the pattern correct. Hopefully, you like this one just as much.
The elf presented a gift wrapped in gaudy red and green paper. Draco smirked softly, taking it.
"Tell Granger 'fat chance,'" he told the elf. The elf nodded, bowed once more, and then popped away.
Draco moved to sit on the end of his bed. Slowly he unwrapped the gift, delicately cutting through the tape with his nail. He got a good chuckle out of the muggle wrapping, so used to his mother's magic. The box was as big as his palm. He lifted the simple blue lid to find a silver pocket watch with a design of overlapping circles making Flower of Life etched into the front.
Just like his first one. Exactly like it even.
But as he picked the watch up from the box, he knew it was his. He closed his eyes, feeling it warm in his hand, and tried to remember where he had gotten his first one, but nothing came to him. He couldn't even remember if it was a gift, but something in his heart told him it was.
Draco opened the watch. He swept his thumb over the face as he read the inscription inside.
In every life, forever yours.
He didn't know how it was possible. He couldn't remember his watch in the past, even having an inscription. He suddenly even couldn't remember the design on the front. Instead, all he could remember was this watch. It had only ever been this one.
It had only ever been her.
"Fuck, Granger," he muttered to himself.
He missed her too. So deep it hurt.
Once again, Draco stood in the cellar. It was the last day of break. His last chance to prove one way or another that he was ready to become a Death Eater. His last chance to prove himself, to be collateral for the right man. He'd been lost in thought, pulled this way and that, trying to figure out the questions and the fates. He still didn't know the answers, but it was time to make a decision regardless.
He twirled his wand in his fingers to expel some nervous energy as he listened for his father to make his way down the stairs. He knew he didn't have to do this, but he also knew he'd have limited choices by shutting off now. His mother was right in that aspect; he needed somewhere to go if he were to rebel. He had Granger, always and forever, but he needed options.
His father looked exhausted as he walked down the stairs but quickly stole all his emotions away when he noticed Draco studying him. Draco had never been privy to Voldemort's plans before receiving the Mark. He doubted it would change any time soon.
"I hope you haven't called me down here to waste my time again," his father said with a bored tone.
Draco shook his head.
"Fine, show me what you learned."
Draco pocketed his wand and snapped his fingers; a small flame floated over his thumb. His father raised an eyebrow. Without speaking, Draco then shifted the fire to his palm and caused it to grow as large as a Quaffle. He snapped again, and the blaze was gone.
"Party tricks?"
Draco kept himself from rolling his eyes. He pointed his fingers and flicked them at the peacock cage. The lock popped open. With another flick of Draco's wrist, the door opened. The peacock walked out slowly.
He could tell his father was impressed but fighting his features to not give any of it away. He knew his father couldn't do any of the wandless or wordless magic he just performed, but it wasn't dark, so it wasn't up for praise.
Finally, his father turned to him. "A useful skill, but I asked you to learn the Cruciatus Curse."
"I know it," Draco replied.
"I've seen. I want you to show me."
"No."
"Draco, I don't have the time nor patience with these games again. It is a Malfoy tradition–"
Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed.
XXXXX
Instead of The Cruciatus Curse, he spoke another Unforgivable. One that was quick and clean. That was full of hate for his father, Voldemort, the Mark that ruined everything, and the life that brought him here to do it all over again. He wished he'd done it right the first time. He knew he had to do it right now. He just also wished he knew how.
XXXXX
The cellar turned green as a body slumped to the floor.
Draco spun his wand in his fingers again and looked at his father.
"There. Now it's no longer a tradition," Draco stated. His father's eyes were clear with shock, and his mouth slack and hanging open.
Draco gave his father a nod and headed back up the cellar stairs, not waiting to hear whatever his father had to say once he recovered from the shock of just seeing his fifteen-year-old son perform The Killing Curse.
The Hogwarts Express was a welcomed ride for Draco. He found a compartment with Blaise near the back and settled into his seat to watch the countryside pass by. He was plagued by the green light he cast whenever he closed his eyes. He had barely slept the night before because of it.
XXXXX
His stomach churned with guilt from killing an innocent animal, but he supposed it was better than the hours of tortured screeches that haunted him in his past life.
The ride was quiet and uneventful, just like Draco remembered it.
That is until Granger opened the compartment door, dressed in her uniform and her hair filling the doorway.
"Malfoy, we have rounds," she told him. She was trying and failing to hide her smile.
Draco looked up at her with a smirk, also unable to hide.
Blaise looked between them and then dropped his book. He gave Draco a look of death. "The Mudblood? Pansy's going to murder you."
"She can join the club," Draco laughed, standing up. "And we're done with that Mudblood shit."
Blaise shrugged. "You're the one that started it."
"And now I'm ending it," Draco said sternly, glancing at Hermione. She sighed but shook away her annoyance. Even being called a Mudblood couldn't stop her happiness from seeing him again and without a bruise in sight.
"That's fine; ironically, I've killed more Purebloods anyways," Blaise stood, grabbing his things. "You have twenty minutes to snog while I go change."
Draco watched as Blaise moved past Hermione.
"I'm going to ignore that he just said he's killed people," she commented, watching Blaise walk away before turning to Draco. Her smile bloomed all over again.
"Good because it wasn't a joke." He couldn't hide his smile when hers was so beautiful.
She stepped into the compartment and closed the door behind her.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi."
"I–"
Draco didn't wait. He took her by the hips and pulled her into a hug that said more than anything he could say. He snapped out the lights, but the compartment still glowed gold as he pressed his face into her neck and just breathed for the first time in weeks.