Tension was palpable inside the Malfoy Manor. Since the start of the holiday, Loki had done his best to avoid mealtimes, tired of Lucius' cold disdain and Narcissa's meagre attempt at getting Lucius talk to him. Most of Loki's time was spent in his room or the library, reading and doing summer homework, which baffled him when teachers assigned heaps of foot-long essays so that students 'remembered everything that had been taught during school year'. Should summer not be the time for relaxation and rest for Midgardians? Or perhaps this was a wizard thing to remind Muggle students that magic was real?
Whichever the case was, it provided excuses and Loki was willing to act on them.
He was contemplating the merit of writing another extra foot to debate the unknown variable in transfiguration formula when terror-filled scream interrupted his thought.
Noiselessly he rolled up the parchment and set off for the living room where the scream had waned into pitiful moan.
Dobby lay on the cold wooden floor, curling in on himself. Lucius sat on the sofa, not a drop of emotion when he uttered 'Crucio'. The house-elf writhed on the floor like a burning man, howling and sobbing in pain, begging for Lucius to stop.
'What is going on Mother?' Loki asked Narcissa, who stood arm-crossed right behind the closed door.
'Nothing you should concern your self with, Draco,' Narcissa walked forward and placed her hands on his shoulders, shielding him from the scene ahead. 'Now go back to your room, I -'
The screaming stopped so suddenly that Narcissa chanced a glance over her shoulder.
'Where did you take the diary?' Lucius asked Dobby once the spell was cut off, eyes belied the fury lacing his every words.
'Dobby does not know-'
'The black leather journal with the inital T. M. Riddle engraved onto the back?' Loki said, walking around Narcissa to come stand between Dobby and Lucius' wand. 'I burned it.' He said, a ferocious smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The silence was so absolute that Loki could hear the blood thumping through Lucius' bursting veins at the temple.
'Go back to your room, Draco,' Lucius ordered, noticeably gulping down his shock and incomprehension.
Loki had the mad urge to laugh long and loud. He did release a short bark of laughter.
'Is the fact that I burned the journal so hard to believe or do you merely refuse to listen to me? I. Burned. Voldemort's. Diary.' Loki overnicely pronounced each word.
A beat of silence passed and then Lucius was in Loki's personal space, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly Loki was nearly yanked off his feet.
'Where are you keeping it Draco?' Lucius asked, fear taking hold of his actions.
'Do you have selective deafness?' Loki goggled at the tall man. 'The diary is gone. Burned to ash. Scattered to the wind.' Loki raised his left hand and waggled his fingers to imitate the wind.
'Draco, please, please, don't lie to me. The Lord entrusted me to keep it safe-'
'That is your problem then, is it not?' Loki interjected quietly. 'There is no one lording over me. Voldemort is nothing more than a stage-worthy haranguer parroting Blood Supremacy, an egomaniacal parasite fearing Death. And you are starry-eyed naive sheep that drink his every word and worship his every breath because he shares the same view as you. Should you not be the Lord who pull the string instead of being ordered around like a hapless ser-'
A sharp pain on Loki's cheek stalled his tirade. He vaguely remembered bringing his hand up to touch the cheek and winced when the fingers pressed against it. He gazed at Lucius, whose hand had curled into a tight fist under the fold of his robe.
'Lucius!' Loki heard Narcissa shout from the back.
Without a word, Lucius swept past him out of the room, Narcissa lingered a little more before following her husband and leaving Loki alone with Dobby.
'Little Master!' Dobby cried, knees sliding on the polished floor to reach him.
'Apparate us to the front gate, Dobby,' Loki ordered
Dobby drew up short from reaching for Loki's cheek. Wordlessly, the house-elf snapped his fingers, and they were standing on the cobbled street on the outside of the gate.
'Dobby, this will be your last order,' Loki kneeled down eye-level with him, pulling out the pristine handkerchief from his inside pocket and took Dobby's small hand. 'Immediately come to Harry Potter house and tell him to pack his trunk, I will arrive shortly to pick him up. And now,' Loki finished the last loop of handkerchief around Dobby's wrist with a simple bow, 'you are free.'
Dobby broke into tears and disappeared as soon as Loki released his hand.
Alone, Loki apparated to the nearest train station and waited under the light drizzle.
He had noticed the blisters on Potter's hands, the three-size too large clothes and the duct-taped glasses when he first met Potter on the train. Seeing the man that picked Potter up at the station confirmed his theory. It was no secret to the wizarding community that the Boy-Who-Lived lived with Muggles. What kind of Muggles was everyone's guess.
Abusive Muggles most definitely entered no one's mind.
Living alone would be boring so Loki figured Potter would make a suitable companion.
Loki got off at Reading Station from the commuter rail, hands tucked deep in the thin coat pockets. He rather liked this contraption of travelling, not too choked with humans at this time in the evening and it provided him enough time to think things through. Apparition shortened the time wasted to move from train to train but Loki was not fancy of standing at Potter's front porch contemplating the course of action.
Yellow street lamps lit up the homogeneous buildings; two-storey, white painted wall with a diminutive patch of grass in front. Wind zipped through gaps between houses, mournful and wheezing. Loki hastened his steps. Potter's house was just around that small playground.
Harry paced around his room, thoughts racing a mile a minute.
What exactly did Draco mean by 'preparing his trunk', which was locked in the cupboard under the stairs with all his belongings since the start of the summer?
When Dobby came to deliver the message, sobs and tremors racking along his bony frame, Harry was trying to pick the lock on Hedwig's cage with a thin wood splinter he tore from the windowsill. The sudden 'Pop' had his heart leap straight up to his mouth and him turn around with an 'I am doing nothing, Uncle Vernon' expression. The door remained blessedly quiet so Harry let loose a relieved breath and looked around to see what had exploded. A nervous, red-eyed house-elf standing at the foot of his bed greeted Harry's searching eyes.
'Mr. Harry Potter sir?' the house-elf asked, voice trembling.
Harry managed a wary nod.
'Draco Malfoy sir asked Dobby to tell Harry Potter sir to pack his belongings and prepare to leave as soon as Draco Malfoy sir arrives.' The house-elf twisted his fingers in distress, nose sniffling nonstop.
'Draco said that?' Harry narrowed his eyes at the house-elf, skepticism filling his consciousness. 'Why does he tell me that?'
'Dobby knows not, Harry Potter sir. Dobby knows Little Master is punished for fending for worthless Dobby b-b-but D-Dobby helps not because L-LIittle Master asked Dobby to go to Harry P-P-Potter sir and f-f-freed Dobby!' The house-elf, Dobby, cried earnestly at that, thick tears streaming down from big tennis ball-like eyes. Dobby pulled out a clean white handkerchief with a stylised fire-breathing dragon in the shape of the letter 'M' embroidered in emerald threat and blew his nose noisily.
That was definitely Draco's. Harry would never forget the sewn dragon that gave mighty beats with its wing and spit thread-fire on the white cloth when Draco used it to wipe some of the dust from Hermione's face.
'Dobby is free but Dobby does not want to be free. Dobby wants to help Little Master but Dobby does not want to disobey Little Master's last order.' Dobby grabbed the bedpost and started banging his head against the footboard. 'Horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible Dobby.' With each 'horrible', Dobby banged his head, each hit getting harder and louder than the previous.
Fearing the loud noise would bring Uncle Vernon up, Harry hastily pried Dobby's tight grip off the wooden posts. As soon as the last finger was off, Dobby turned around and smashed his head against the wardrobe, which rattled thunderously. Panicked for real, Harry hugged Dobby from behind and lifted him onto the mattress, blanket at the ready to roll around the house-elf.
Thundering footsteps and an equally thundering 'BOY!' informed Harry he was not as quiet as he thought he was. Uncle Vernon opened the door and beadily glared at him.
'What was that noise?' he asked.
'I fell from the bed and hit the wardrobe,' Harry lied.
Uncle Vernon glared harder at him; his beady eyes became mere lines on his face.
'Don't mess around anymore boy. If I have to come up here one more time because of your stupid game, whatever in the cupboard will go into the fireplace. Do you understand?' He threatened, pointing a meaty finger at Harry.
'Yes, Uncle Vernon.'
He waited until Uncle's Vernon's footsteps fell silent to remove his hand from where it was covering Dobby's nose and mouth. Discreetly wiped it against the underside of the mattress, Harry gingerly sat Dobby, still sobbing, up.
'Dobby, I want you to tell me what exactly happened before you appeared here.'
Through much sniffling and almost wailing, Harry gleamed that Malfoy senior lost a treasure. He then blamed Dobby and nearly killed the house-elf. Luckily Draco jumped in and took the blame. Whatever happened next Harry couldn't decipher from the garble of words and blubbering.
In essence, Draco got into trouble at home, which led to the question of why Draco needed him to get packed.
The ringing doorbell cut off Harry's reverie. Light footsteps and a shrieky 'Who's there?' told Harry that it was Aunt Petunia who answered the door.
Strange.
Dursleys had never had guests over this late. If someone decided to come, they should have given a ring but as far as Harry could tell, there had been no scheduled get-together, for the three Dursleys were watching telly in their night gowns and Harry had not been given any instruction to keep quiet and stay in his room before hand. Draco would come tonight but surely he wouldn't just ring the doorbell to meet Harry.
...Right?
Heart frozen rigid with foreboding, Harry slid soundlessly down a few steps and bent low to catch a glimpse of the visitor, praying it was not a blond twelve-year-old in wizard robe.
The man that was smiling charmingly at Aunt Petunia and giving her kiss on the back of her hand was, well, not a boy. Standing almost as tall as the door frame in sophisticated black suit, the man had hair the same shade of blond as Draco did , albeit longer and tied into a low ponytail. The nose and cheekbones were higher and more prominent but the mismatched eyes told Harry it was Draco talking there, making Harry's aunt blush like a teenage girl and Uncle Vernon beam smugly. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes until Aunt Petunia called him in honey sweet tone she usually reserved for Dudley.
'Harry dear,' Harry repressed the urge to gag, 'There's someone who wants to meet you downstairs.'
'Yes, Aunt Petunia.' Harry put his hand over his mouth and said into it.
He waited for a few heartbeats to descend. Draco was still standing there, hands clasped behind his back, serene smile that clearly reached his eyes adorned aristocratic feature.
'Ah, Mr. Potter,' Draco exclaimed jubilantly, 'I have heard wonderful tales about you from your most fair-spoken aunt and uncle.'
'Harry dear,' Aunt Petunia lovingly guided him to the front, 'This fine gentleman here is Sir Anteres Malorie-
'Madam, please refer to me as Loki, that is what my close friends usually address me as. Anteres makes me feel like I am standing amidst a flock of hungry fathers looking to court their daughters.' Draco laughed softly, his eyes crinkling up in amusement.
'Well, Sir Loki Malorie,' Aunt Petunia agreed demurely. 'And he has a wonderful offer for you,' she directed this back at Harry.
'Shall we talk about this in more details while I help you with your belongings then?' Draco caught Harry's eyes and winked surreptitiously.
While still flummoxed, Harry allowed Draco to steer him to the cupboard where all his stuffs were brought outside of the locked door.
'How did you do that?' Harry whispered to Draco, throwing a rolled -up pair of socks into the brimming trunk.
'Your aunt and uncle are laden with laud and promise of wealth and recognition.' Draco said, shutting Harry's trunk with a note of finality.
Harry was well versed enough in body language to wisely end that line of question.
The three Dursleys bade them goodbye heartily and Draco granted them a cordial nod. They walked in silence, Harry pulling the trunk and Draco carrying Hedwig's cage until they reach a playground at Magnolia Crescent.
Without any motion, the grown-up Draco melted into the air, leaving the teenage Draco standing there in light coat and jeans and familiar short hair.
'I miss the view from up there.' Draco mumbled wistfully before setting Hedwig free. He then glided a hand over the cage and Harry's trunk, shrinking them until they fit perfectly in Harry's palm.
'Aren't we supposed to perform magic outside of school?' Harry asked as Draco sat himself on the swing.
'No,' Draco shook his head assentingly, 'But the Ministry cannot track magic performed without a wand,' Draco pulled out his and gave it a fancy wave for emphasis.
'Can you teach me how to do that?'
'Wandless magic came instinctive to me. I am not sure myself how it works.' Draco frowned, swinging absently.
'So,' Harry tried hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice, 'Where are we going now?'
'I am thinking.' Draco said and fell completely silent and still.
With nothing to do, Harry turned inwards with his thoughts. He was very curious as to what Draco had said to convince Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, not just to allow him to leave with all his 'abnormal' stuffs, but to see him off with true merriment. The Dursleys had always been happy with him out of the house, Harry amended, but that was 'good-riddance' happiness, not whatever emotion they displayed tonight.
Harry wanted to give Draco a standing ovation for accomplishing that but Draco seemed to be ... ashamed of it. Come to think of it, back in first year, when Draco admitted to Ron that he angered the redhead to get him to talk, Draco looked as if he was being swallowed in self-hatred. Harry had to wonder why. Maybe Draco had no idea what pale imitation of summer holiday he had removed Harry from. This could be the first real holiday Harry had ever had, away from the Dursleys, away from chores, away from the stuffy room.
So lost in thought, Harry didn't realise Draco had stood up and offered Harry a hand up.
'I hope you know how to get to Central London from here Potter.' The smile Draco gave filled Harry with apprehension.
When they got down at Paddington Station, Harry found Draco a map and the blond pointed at the place he wanted to go. They could have continued by tubes to Borough of Islington but Draco insisted on checking out other 'zany moving contraptions' so Harry complied. As they waited for the bus, Draco kept staring alternately between a phone booth across the street and a lamp at the street corner, mumbling softly about the house and the alley.
The bus were empty save for the two of them and the driver himself. Ten stops later, they reached their destination, Draco taking the lead this time. Draco walked briskly past winding streets, cut through a small square and drew to a stop in front of the brick wall between two houses. Harry turned left and right to see. None of the houses felt welcoming with paint peeling from many doors, broken windows glimmering dully in the light from the street and rubbish heaped outside several set of steps.
'We are here.'
'There's no Number Twelve.' There was Number Thirteen to Harry's left and Number Eleven to his right, so it stood to reason that he was facing Number Twelve. But the brick wall was solid to his touch and Harry got a hunch that running straight at it would only award him a bump on the head.
'It is shielded with magic.'
Of course magic was involved. 'How can we make it appear?'
'I have yet any idea but let us see...' Draco mused, eyes roaming over the brick wall before settling down for an eye-level brick and announcing orotundly at it. 'My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy née Black, Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House if Malfoy. I command the Ancestral Home of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black to reveal itself.'
Harry waited with a baited breath. A bat flew under a street lamp, causing a swift dip in light. All was silent.
Draco cocked his head to the side, reevaluating. In a trance, he raised his palm up and cut a clean gash through it with a knife hidden in his coat. Harry gawped at it but Draco was already carefully smearing the blood on the bricks. At once, the brick wall parted sideways for a battered black door to emerge followed swiftly by identically dirty walls and mucky windows. The Muggles living in number eleven and thirteen didn't even feel anything, judging by the dark windows. Draco walked up the worn stone steps and took the silver knocker only to hiss in pain.
'Are you alright?' Harry asked worriedly.
'Yes, I am well,' Draco showed him the two angry red dots on the newly healed palm. 'Bloody paranoid old coots,' Draco mumbled darkly, giving the knocker a glare so frosty it could ice lava.
The silver serpentine knocker slithered back in place, not forgetting to repay the insult in kind. 'Puny human,' it said.
Harry snickered softly, earning a questioning glance from Draco. He should tell Draco a palm sized magical knocker had just called the blond undersized, but Harry wanted to leave Draco in the dark for a bit longer.
Draco toed the door open and beckoned Harry inside. As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, the door swung shut, trapping him in total darkness.
'Come this way Little Master and Harry Potter sir,' Dobby whispered from the behind the door at the end of the long narrow hall, warm golden light spilled out in strips.
Quietly, Harry made his way over. Draco followed closely behind.
The room they came in was so brightly lit Harry had to blink tears out of his eyes. Candles were lit and placed everywhere, upon the intricate chandelier, along the long tables, on either side of the fireplace mantel and on the top of chests of drawers. Rows of shelves holding gleaming dishes and cups lined the upper wall. On the stove a kettle was boiling, puffing out hazy steam.
Dobby pulled out a chair for him and set down two plates full of sandwiches and a teapot.
'You are free Dobby,' Draco said, sipping on his steaming cup of tea.
'Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Little Master tells him to do!' Dobby's smile stretched from ear to ear. 'Dobby cleaned the house and prepared bedrooms for Little Master and Harry Potter.'
'Thank you Dobby.' Draco exhaled resignedly. Leaving Dobby hyperventilating in happiness, Draco turned to him and asked, 'You have a large true bedroom to yourself and freedom, what say you about living here for the rest of the summer, Potter?'
Loki could feel his mouth lift a bit higher when Potter forgot about the sandwich halfway to his mouth.
He does love to surprise people.
Two hours later and Potter finally went to bed after an umpteenth times asking Loki whether he was sure or not. It was not like the house had been occupied for a long time by the state of it. The last heir of the Black Family had been incarcerated twelve years ago and other Blacks were dead, imprisoned, disowned or not fond of visiting their childhood home. Loki turned his head slightly at the general direction of a cupboard in the drawing room, where was emitting the foul smoke, unmistakably Voldemort's piece of soul. Why was it that everywhere he went he encountered a disgusting piece of that man?
He had sensed it when they stood outside the still hidden number Twelve. He had debated turning around and find another place right then, but he was out of choice. Theo he had no doubt would gladly hosted them but that placed him right in Lucius' grasp. The Malfoys' various estates scattered around Great Britain were out of the question and Muggle hotel provided only temporary protection. So, gritting his teeth, Loki stayed his rebelling legs and trudged of the stone steps.
Years of aristocratic upbringing forced his hand to come up to cover a jaw-breaking yawn in the presence of candles and dust. The plush armchair in the living room looked rather inviting than the two flights of stairs at the moment. Without further ado, Loki flung himself onto the soft material and promptly fell asleep. The mist could wait till tomorrow.
Loki woke to sore legs and stiff neck. The fire had long since died away, glowing cinder casting eerie shadow on the coat hanger. His inner clock informed him dawn just started to break, so he pulled the quilt Dobby must have dragged over over his head and slipped back to dreamless sleep.
Or tried to.
Incessant rustle and murmur hovered outside the edge of his hearing, too low to make out anything. In the stillness of the breaking dawn, however, the sound was as annoying as dog barking right into his ears. Frustrated and awake, he carefully maneuvered around furniture to the dark drawing room.
A short mass came into his view, its bulbous nose a prominent feature on its face. The elusive house-elf made its appearance at last. The little nark had loitered outside the kitchen door when he and Potter were there, obviously listening in but not doing anything suspicious so Loki left it alone...
Until now, when it was clutching the very source of the dark mist to its chest, whispering repentantly?
Mystified, Loki set the candles down on the floor and conjured up a green flame to light the wicks.
The light shone upon a sorry excuse of a house-elf. Bloodshot eyes, many folds of skin and white hair growing out of his bat-like ears.
'Whose service are you bound to?' Loki asked, needing to make sure.
'Kreacher serves only the noble House of Black. Master is the youngest of the Malfoys, great-nephew of my late mistress.' Kreacher croaked, studying Loki from the slits that were his eyes.
'There will not be any objections of me and Potter staying here then?'
'The Potter boy stopped the Dark Lord-'
'And is Dorea Potter née Black's grandson as well as my first cousin once remove,' Loki intervened. 'There are, therefore, two Blacks in the ancestral House of Blacks, you will have no complaints about that, will you?' Loki asked the cowering house-elf, absently twirling green flames on the tip of his fingers.
'No, of course not, Master Malfoy is most welcome in the House of Blacks. Along with Master Potter.' Kreacher added grudgingly when Loki accidentally dropped the fire near his toes.
Resettling his weight back on his heels, Loki quenched the green flame in his palm. 'Would you mind if I had a glimpse of the necklace?' He gestured at Kreacher's cupped hands, mild voice belied his revulsion.
Kreacher hesitantly eased his grip and Loki slowly withdrew it.
A large, oval locket of heavy gold connected with the long silver chain. Even in the dim candlelight the serpentine 'S' in green emerald glowed perniciously.
'Where did you get it?' Loki placed the locket on the floor but not giving back to the house-elf either.
Shaking, Kreacher regaled him with the story of the cave beside the sea. Of the fake locket lying underneath the basin of poison. Of Voldemort's erroneous arrogance. Of the Undead-infested lake. Of 'Master Regulus' last order.
'Nothing Kreacher did make any marks upon it. Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket!' Kreacher wailed and banged his head in the cupboard door, low thuds echoed off the tapestry-covered wall.
Loki would be more concerned about waking Potter up if it was still nighttime, but Loki was awake and he was not above cutting Potter's sleep short.
'If I said I could destroy the locket, would you allow me to do it?' Loki asked, hand already hovered above the locket.
Kreacher banged his head loudly one last time before gazing up at him, green mucus glistening around his snot.
'Master Malfoy can do that?' Kreacher rasped out, hope colored every syllable.
The bright brilliant sentient flame bursting out from his hand was his answer. The blazing raven spread its wing wide before swooping down, encasing the locket in a torrent of white-tipped fire.
Thumping footsteps down the stairs alerted him to Potter's presence.
Any cheeky 'good morning' Loki thought off died on his lips at the sight of Potter. Ashen faced, glasses askew, chest falling and rising rapidly to make up for the lost oxygen, one would have thought the boy had a run-in with the vicious Garm, watchdog of Hel.
'Someone is screaming.' Potter wheezed out, spooked and agitated, 'In here.'
Loki frowned. He was certain he had not scream, neither had Kreacher. All was silent save for the hissing sound came from the burning locket.
'What exactly did you hear, Potter?'
''Save me, save me' repeatedly. It doesn't sound like human but-' Potter inhaled sharply, '-but it is getting fainter. Can't you hear it? Why aren't you doing anything to help?' Potter hands came up to cover his ears, to block out the spine-chilling scream that only he could hear.
Wordlessly Loki escorted Potter into the kitchen, levitating the locket along. Once seated, he placed a Silencing Charm on the blackening locket and watched as Potter hesitantly removed his hands.
'What did you do?' Potter asked, turning left and right while Loki was rummaging in his memory for a non-venomous species of snake.
A long brown snake appeared where the silver candlestick had been, slithering its way towards Potter, who quickly scooted away.
'Worry not, she is harmless.'
''Worry not'?' Potter echoed, appalled. 'She wants to take a nip at my nose!'
'Look her in the eye and tell her it is not possible then.'
Potter gave him an unimpressed look. He gave back an equally unimpressed look.
'Okay, I'll do that.' Potter cleared his throat and pressed his face on the table, catching the snake's eyes.
A minute of silence passed then Potter was hissing low. The snake flicked her tongue in response and they were off conversing.
Even with the Alltongue, Loki could not understand this language, perhaps due to the reason that this was not a language at all. Language was a human ability that relied entirely on social convention and learning and could afford a wide range of expressions than any animal communication.
Potter and the snake seemed to have come to an agreement so Loki changed it back into the candlestick that should be made of silver.
Not bronze.
He must be more tired than he thought.
'Go back to bed Potter,' Loki ordered, standing up and making a beeline for the comforting sofa.
'Wha-,' Potter open-mouthedly stared at him, 'What do you mean by going back to bed? What was the scream from before? Why did you transfigure up a snake?' Potter exploded, firing questions at his back.
'Sleep well, Potter.' Loki called out from his cocoon of blanket, eyes already closing.
Potter steamed alone for a while until he blew out the candles and stomped upstairs noisily.
When Harry woke up at noon, a pile of books dropped heavily onto his chest, puffing up a cloud of dust. One managed to smack him in the face, and when Harry lifted it up to glare at it, the gleaming 'Parseltongue: Myth or Real?' twinkled at him.
The whole house was cleaned in matters of days thanks to Dobby and Kreacher's surprising help.
Loki quickly fell into a routine; wake up, have breakfast, hole up in the library, have dinner, sleep and a new day begun. Sometimes he went out on a walk in the neighbourhood or, if he fancied it, a trip to central London. Potter always accompanied him on these outdoor excursions and introduced Loki to the wonder of Muggle Mars chocolate bar.
There were five floors, counting the basement, in the Black House but he and Potter only frequented on the ground floor and the second landing. He warned Potter against exploring other rooms and floors, anxious about all the hexes and jinxes placed around every door. Miraculously, Potter listened.
Right now Loki was browsing through a book on jinxes with Potter scribbling nearby when Potter broke the comforting silence.
'Your owl is still there.'
'He is, isn't he?' Loki mumbled distractedly, looking out of the window. Thor the owl stood on the fence, still as a statue. He arrived three days ago, and after unsuccessfully getting Loki to open the window, he had resolved to perch on the fence across the house, not moving an inch. Knowing Thor the brother, Loki gave the owl another two days before he flew away.
Five days passed and the pig-headed owl remained there. On the sixth day, the city received its first downpour of the summer. Thor refused to find shelter in the tree, perching firmly on the wet fence. Realising he had been fighting a losing battle from the beginning, Loki opened the front door and let the soaking owl landed on his shoulder.
'You really are an obdurate creation of the universe.'
Letting Thor dry up in front of the fire, Loki opened the letter Narcissa sent.
Draco love,
How have you been doing? I am beside myself with worry when you suddenly left. Have you been eating well? I do hope the Nott household is treating you with the attention you deserve.
Your father and I talked. We realise that the despicable house-elf must have had you under a powerful charm for you to protect it. Do not be afraid Draco, Dobby is dead and there will no longer be any house-elves allowed into the Manor.
Your father has forgiven you, he asks after your well-being everyday. Lucius is worry about you. He deeply regrets raising his hand against you.
Teardrop.
We miss you dearly Draco. It is not the same without you quietly reading in the library or tending to your hawthorn tree. Come home with us, Draco. I understand that you are still mad at us and not wishing to talk. Nevertheless, know that your father and I always love you.
Love,
Your mother.
Loki chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Lucius and Narcissa would go as far as blaming a house-elf to prolong the image of a perfect family? That was the new kind of low. They were merely in denial that Loki had not turned out the way they supposed Draco to. Taking out two sheets of parchment, Loki wrote to Narcissa and Theo, the latter Loki thanked for pretending to be was housing Loki all along. He enclosed that letter with a simple black ring and a 'I'll explain when we meet in person' note and tied it to Thor's outstretched leg.
'Deliver this to Theo when the rain stops. This,' Loki put away the three-sentenced letter for Narcissa, 'I will use the owl post service.'
On July 31st, Loki took Potter out to Diagon Alley. After not that long out of contact with the wizarding world, the number of wizards and witches milling around in the same place baffled Loki. All pointy hats and impractical clothing. Swishy billowing gaudy robes would just hinder their movement when the need for battle aroused. Loki was not the right person to criticise clothing's colour scheme but at least his green battle outfit blended in with the many greeneries of Asgard! Orange, yellow, purple, blue in the brown setting of houses? Those wizards' heads should be split open to study for future reference.
'Cheer up, Draco, it's sunny today.' Potter said around his spoon of ice cream. They were sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, test-tasting ice-cream flavours.
'I am cheery,' Loki said seriously.
'Right, of course you are.' Potter lengthened the 'i' and went back to his ice cream.
Loki missed the timid boy. Living under the same roof with him had trained Potter out of his fear for Loki's stare, glare and overall eye power.
He spooned the red ice cream and tried it. Rum with a touch of pepper. Loki tried the ash-colored scoop next. Just like the name said, earl grey tea and lavender.
'Can I try yours?' Potter asked, pushing his cup towards Loki.
Loki shrugged and took Potter's cup. Chocolate with a dash of mint and caramelised sugar.
'So mundane. Your choice of flavour is getting boring, Potter.'
'Speak for yourself,' Potter made a face at him, quaking from head to toes. 'What flavour is that?'
'Dragon Blood.'
'I am never ordering that.'
'Your loss.' Loki then turned towards the menu hanging above, 'What haven't we ordered?'
His tomato soup was a disaster. Loki never liked tomato to begin with, but he had hoped that since it was ice cream, tomato should taste differently.
How wrong he was.
'Why did you even order this?' Potter grimaced at him after helping Loki finished this scoop.
'Curiosity I supposed.' Loki grinned
'Curiosity kills the cat.' Potter deadpanned.
'And satisfaction brings it back.' He shot back, finishing the clotted cream scoop.
Potter shook his head and continued savouring his scoops of lemon pepper chicken and popcorn flavour.
'Your birthday present, Potter,' Draco pushed the simple black ring across the table to Potter, who was preparing to stand up. 'If you ever need to write to someone fearing the letters being intercepted, place this on a parchment and write down the name of the recipient, only he or she will then see your message on the nearest, most noticeable surface and write their reply. Once you remove the ring, everything that is written will vanish, both on your side and their side.'
Potter picked it up, slid it onto to his thumb and just stared at it.
'When is your birthday Draco?' Potter asked in a trance.
'Why does it matter? It has already passed-'
'The day of your birth, Draco.' The dark-haired boy fixed him with a glare he definitely must have picked up from Loki.
As Loki, he never had a day of birth; it was just the coldest day of winter. But as Draco, he did have one.
'Fifth of June if you wish to know so badly. Now let's get a move on, we are going to be late.'
The walk back to Grimmauld Place was quite, not the awkward one but the companionable one.
'Thanks Draco,' Potter smiled happily at him when they both grasped the glowing ashtray that would whisk them to the Weasleys' house.
Loki intended to stay for the party only and left Potter there at the Burrow while he made his way back to Grimmauld Place. A little accident with birthday cake and jugs of pumpkin juice crashing into his head made him rather dizzy and he dared not to apparate in this state lest he risked splinching. So the Weasley matriarch had put him in Weasley's room with Potter and threatened to knock him out cold if he tried to leave during the night
Loki wisely took heed.
She left them there with a fond goodnight, mumbling distractedly about a rather sudden strong blast of wind when she was levitating the food.
Morning saw Loki helping the Weasley matriarch with breakfast. After unsuccessfully shooing him away, she had reluctantly accepted his help. Potter woke up half an hour later and offered his assistance as well. The woman just sighed, leaving the pan for Potter to tend to while she toasted breads.
The twins were the next to be up, arguing from their room to the stairs. As they each put a foot on the first step of stairs, the steps turned into slide and they both came tumbling down, landing a mess of limps. A gentle gust of wind blew the well-placed mortar of finely-crushed pepper straight for their nose and they were coughing and sneezing.
"Fred! George!' The Weasley matriarch shouted, stomping out of the kitchen to scold the twins. 'I warn you many times about pranks! Who did you set it for? Draco or Harry? You are lucky those two didn't get caught in this or you will be cleaning the entire house with broom and mop-'
Loki blocked out the rest of the threats and smirked triumphantly at the eggs in the pan. Potter listened on as the cleaning threats upped from the house to the garden to every house in the vicinity.
As Loki sat down for breakfast, he found himself boxed on both side by the sneezing twin.
'Fancy see—ACHOO-ing you this morning Dra—ACHOO-co dearest.' George said, sneezing into Loki's hair.
'Lovely ACHOO day to have a Quitditch match, don' ya ACHOO think, Georgie?' Fred said from his right, directing his sneeze at Loki's hand.
'Indeed it is, Freddie. But ACHOO don' cha think we need to have breakfast first? Dracie went through all 'tis trouble to make for ACHOO us.'
'You are ACHOO-lutely right. Let us make a toast to Dracie's hard work-'
'You know,' Loki pushed his dish away in distaste and stood up. 'Let's have that game now. Breakfast can wait for later.'
It was passed noon when he, Potter and the Weasley children trudged back inside, tired but thrilled. And somehow his few-hour-stay at the Burrow had turned into three days.
All too early, school started and Theo greeted him with an unconventional welcome on the train.
'Tell me you don't swing that way.'
'I don't swing that way.'
'Then what is it?'
'A ring.'
'You are aggravating.'
'I live to aggravate human.'
'Human? And you are not human?'
'No, I am Loki of Asgard, the Trickster and God of Mischief.'
Stunned silence followed Loki's statement.
Theodore broke out in gale of laughter, clutching his side as he laughed. Loki chuckled along but could not keep out a twinge of sadness. He knew nobody would believe it anyway. Draco Malfoy, a god? Absurd.
'You are impossible, you know,' Theodore told him as his laugh subsided into wheezing. 'So what does this do?' He showed Loki his left hand with the ring on the index finger.
'A 'thank-you' gift. Turn it and those who wish you harm will temporary lose their hearing or sight or any sense that is most important to them.' Loki explained.
'Wow,' Theo marveled at the simple black ring, 'Thank you.'
Loki smiled genuinely.
There was not much change at school except for the newly appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who, after Quirrell, Loki thought could not be worse.
Apparently he was dead wrong.
Lockhart was even more idiotic than Quirrell.
A narcissus, self-obsessed, attention-seeking, barmy twonk.
This time around Theodore skipped Defense with him.
He wondered when Hogwarts headmasters normally retired.
The absence of ghosts and Mrs. Norris did not escape Loki's attention either.
Rumors had it that one of Peeves' prank went to far and all the ghosts were sucked back into hell, hapless Mrs. Norris were pulled in along. Others convinced themselves that the ghosts' corpses vanished, therefore, without a tether to life, they faded away.
'I would rather you not tell me where you heard those Theo.' Loki side-glanced at Parkinson.
'Toads croaked boastfully but they know no stuff.' Theo said
'True that.' Loki half-smiled. 'So what do we have today?'
'Double Charms with Ravenclaw and Transfiguration with Hufflepuff. And tonight,' Theodore faked cheer, 'Compulsory attendance for the Dueling Club, eight o'clock in the Great Hall.'
Loki rubbed the sore spot where Weasley's astray Disarming Charm hit him on the shoulder. The old wand was incompatible with Weasley's magic, leading to unwanted accident. The club was stopped short, Snape sent him straight to the Hospital Wing with Theodore to escort him while Weasley was given a detention for a magical mishap.
That was quite unreasonable. He thought Head of House should not encourage childish house rivalry?
Instead of Hospital Wing, Loki went back for the Dungeon. It was not that serious of an injury anyway.
Malevolent magic suddenly flared from behind him. It felt a lot like Voldemort's magic back in first year but less condensed and more animalistic.
Panicking, Loki turned around on the spot. The oppressing magic surrounded him from all side, pressing in tighter until he had shortness of breath.
'Draco?' Theodore frowned when Loki stopped suddenly.
The wall behind Theodore exploded outwards, showering bricks and water on them. A lizard tail shot out from the opening. Quick as flash, Loki pushed Theo out of the way and felt the cold keeled skin of a snake wrapped around his torso and he was pulled into the dark pipe.
The impact jarred Theodore shoulder. He blinked the pain out of his eyes just as Draco's legs vanished into the darkness. Horror-struck, Theodore stood up and started running along the wall. As he rounded the corner, he slammed into something hard. The impact knocked him clean off his feet, the other person yelled out and Theodore heard the low thump of body hitting floor.
Potter's 'Where is Draco?' coincided with his 'Draco is captured' and they just stared at each other.
'I know where the snake is heading. Come on!' Potter grabbed his sleeves and almost yanked him off balance. 'Hermione, Ron, you two find a teacher and bring him to the second floor. We'll meet you there.'
'How do you know it's a snake?' Theodore's question was lost to Potter's ears as they ran at breakneck speed to the second floor.
Potter headed straight for the taps as the abandoned girl's bathroom came into their view.
'The snake went down here,' Potter said frustratedly, doing circles around the sink. 'There has to be a secret door.'
'No time. Stay back, Potter,' Theodore warned and pointed his wand at the sink.
'Expulso!'
The sink and part of the floor blew up, the force of the explosion slammed him into the wall and sent debris slicing his face.
Ears ringing, he faintly heard Granger's yell 'In here!'. He blinked dust out of his eyes and saw Potter sitting up, shaking his head. Where the sink stood before there was a gaping hole Theodore could not see the bottom of. Weasley, Granger and a professor came skidding on the floor.
'Professor,-' Whatever he was about to say next got stuck in his throat at the sight of mustard tight-fitting robe. Instead he turned to Granger. 'I thought Potter told you to grab a professor, not an impostor?'
'We ran into Professor Lockhart on our way to professor Snape,' Granger bristled, ignoring Weasley's 'I told you so.' . 'And I thought Draco needed help as soon as he can get?'
'Fine.' Theodore conceded crossly. Then he turned back to Lockhart, 'Professor, my friend was captured by a snake and we need your help. I truly believe that you are as good as you are depicted in your books.' He poured as much sarcasm as he could into the words.
It seemed Lockhart was not adept at interpreting sarcasm as he strode forward confidently, white teeth showing for his smile.
'Rest assured, my students, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award shall lay down my life for your safety.' Lockhart stood beside Theodore and peered down the pit. Theodore could easily imagine the drain sucking all the blood out of the boasting professor's face. 'I'm afraid me alone would not be strong enough defeat this beast. I am going to require assistance from other professors. Wait here for me, I'll return with-' Lockhart turned around but Theodore had grabbed hold the tail of his coat.
'Professor, I think then will be too late for Draco. I see you under.' With a wave to the other three, Theodore plunged into the darkness, taking Lockhart along with him.
He let go of Lockhart as they slid down the dark slimy pipe. As Theodore started to wonder if he was gonna go 'splat' when the slide ended, the slide levelled out and he shot out, face-down on the damp stone floor. Lockhart crashed into him. Before he even got his arms under him, Potter came whizzing out the tunnel, followed by Granger and Weasley, and they all piled on top of Theodore.
'Ouch! Ronald!' Granger squirmed, further pressing him on the floor.
'Sorry Hermione.' Weasley got off and he could breathe a little bit more easily.
Slowly they all got off of him. Potter offered him a hand up, which Theodore used to pulled the Gryffindor down onto the floor.
'That's for crushing me.'
Potter gave him an all-too-familiar glare and Theodore was reminded that Draco might be dying as they milled about.
'Can you tell where the snake is Potter?' He asked, erasing all traces of glee.
'It's just up ahead.' Potter hesitated, 'And it keeps repeating 'Kill the Malfoy spawn.''
Theodore ploughed into the tunnel ahead without a word, the others following closely behind. He didn't stop, even as the stone floor changed into a litter of small animal bones and the vivid green snake shed came into view.
'You said the snake wrapped itself around Malfoy?' Weasley asked from behind.
The shed was twenty feet long and so big that he could circle it with both arms. The strength of its coil must be devastating.
'I'm sure Draco is alright. He can find a way out even without us.' Granger voiced her thoughts, reassuring herself as her words quelled his worries.
'Yeah,' Weasley scoffed, almost fondly, 'The git is as cunning as a snake. Do you know that he managed to prank the twin?'
Potter laughed. 'I remember Fred saying never needing pepper at home.'
'Hate to cut your chitchat short, but I'll take my leave.' Lockhart cut in, reminding Theodore that the inept man was still there. When he turned around to face him, the man was training his wand on them.
'Be nice little children and I'll make the Memory Charm for you as painless as I can.' Lockhart moved near the skin and tore off a piece, 'I shall bring this to the Headmaster and tell him of the tragic loss of his students, one perishes and the other four lose their memory in the grief over a lost friend.'
'Blimey that's how your books were written? You found those who had truly took the journeys, asked them for the story then you obliviated them?' Weasley asked incredulously.
'Some of them were rather tight-lipped on the details so I took the liberty to imperio them.'
'Unforgivable Curse? Aren't you afraid we will tell everyone your secret?' Theodore asked, raising an eyebrow.
'You won't even remember your name after I obliviate you.' Lockhart flashed him a smile.
'Nice talk and all but I don't really have time for this,' Theodore said in a bored manner.
'You will have all the time when you are confined in St. Mungo. Now say goodbye to your memory. Obli-'
'Expelliarmus!' Potter cried, taking out his wand in the time it took Lockhart to raise his over the head. The wand flew into Potter's out stretched hand.
Theodore wasted no time to follow up with an 'Incarcerous', binding Lockhart's hands, legs and gagging him. Lockhart looked feeble once again.
'Do you truly believe the Malfoys will leave you alone if their son died because of your incompetence? They govern the world from behind the shadow. Think about what they could turn your life into. Death would be a blessing to you.' Theodore sneered at the trembling man. 'Pray that Draco is still alive.'
With that he continued on his way.
The solid wall with two intertwined serpents carved onto, their emerald eyes glinting. Theodore was preparing for another Expulso Curse when low, hair-raising hiss came from Potter. The serpents parted as the wall cracked open and they walked in.
Towering stone pillars rose into the darkness. They could all hear faint crashing echo around the chamber. Suddenly, Draco's voice rang out, commanding and terse.
'Close your eyes! Use your ring now, Theo!'
Theodore turned his ring clockwise. One of the pillars beyond the darkness came tumbling down in a loud explosion.
Draco skidded to a stop next to them, bleeding from various cuts and gashes. The shape of an elegant silver sword enveloped around his wand, casting silver light onto the wet floor.
'Quick, get out of here,' With one hand he ushered them closer to the entrance, 'Even with the sight gone, the basilisk can still smell. Hurry-' Angry spitting came just a moment before a pillar fell sideways, cutting out their exit.
'Steikje!' Draco frustratedly bit out. Theodore didn't have the time to ask what that was as he was diving behind a pillar, barely escaping the falling rocks.
'Don't come near!' Draco blasted Potter away, 'The basilisk only wants me.' With that he ran into the darkness, leading the humongous snake away from them.
'Basilisk, basilisk, basilisk, what do I know about basilisk?' Granger muttered near him, nervously chewing away her fingernails, 'Hatched from a chicken egg beneath a toad, its stare is murderous; all who fixed with the beams of his eyes shall suffer instant death. It has dragon like skin that can deflect any spells casted upon it. There's no weakness!' She stomped her foot frustratedly.
'How long will the basilisk remain blind?' Weasley frowned
'A short while. Draco didn't specify when he explained,' Theodore said, 'I don't suppose any of you bring along a knife?' Theodore asked rhetorically
'No,' Weasley studied the debris left behind from the fall of a pillar, 'But these make great throwing knives.'
Draco was expertly maneuvering around the basilisk, searching for an opening to spring up from a pillar to stab the eyes. Potter had sacrificed his robe to make a knife carrier. Between him and the three Gryffindors, they have transfigured over twenty knives, all double-edged and razor sharp. Now to get two of those imbedded onto the snake eyes...
'Hey ugly!' Weasley taunted, throwing a large piece of rock at the snake head. 'Come and get us!'
'What are you dunderheads doing?' Draco conveyed his anger and shock excellently in mere five words, but Theodore was too busy aiming to pay much attention to the blond.
The snake was rushing at them fast but none of the knives had even come near the eyes. Potter's aim was the most precise but that knife hit the eyes handle first. The snake opened its fang-filled mouth, prepared to devour them all, when Draco jumped on its head and stabbed the eyes. Dark hot blood spattered them. The snake thrashed its head wildly and Draco was sent crashing into a pillar with a sickening 'thump'.
Wasting no time, they rushed to the barely conscious Draco, mindful of the thrashing blind snake.
Draco was trying to sit himself up, panting heavily, hands still clutching the wand-sword tightly.
'Right as rain, I suppose?' He asked cheekily, smiling to mask the fear he felt when he saw Draco's leg got bent in an unnatural position.
'As fit as a fiddle.' Draco replied with equal amount of cheek, smiling tiredly at him.
He heard the snake howl in anger from behind.
What happened next happened so fast. One moment he was seeing Draco's smile, the next he was pushed against the smooth surface of the column. Warm liquid splattered on his back. The stench of blood rushed into his nose. Theodore stole a glance over his shoulder.
What he saw stopped his heart.
Draco stood there, shielding the four of them. The basilisk's set of saber fangs sank deep into his chest. His blood-soaked lips gave his grin a menacing touch.
'Go to Hel.' He rasped out, swinging the sword to cut the basilisk's head clean off its body. The basilisk hit the ground with a rumbling 'THUNK'. Loki collapsed as well, as the teeth keeping him up were no longer there.
'DRACO!' Theodore's shout mixed with Granger's horrified scream as they all crowded around Draco. Blood soaked his black robe. Several deep gashes cut diagonally from shoulder to stomach, some deep enough that Theodore could glimpse of white.
Granger gently slid her robe under Draco's head and pressed Weasley's robe onto the wound. Draco dazedly gave a pained protest.
'I know it hurts but I'm so sorry,' Granger said through her tears, 'Please hang on, Draco, help is coming. What's the antidote for basilisk venom? Oh why can't I remember it?' She asked herself angrily, gnawing at her lip until it was bleeding.
'No…antidote…' Draco coughed weakly, wincing 'Can't feel…finger…anymore..'
Theodore hurriedly felt for a pulse. It was getting fainter by second. Draco's hand was cold to the touch, gradually turning blue.
'So pessimistic. I am not letting you die, Malfoy. Still have a bone to pick with you in chess.' Weasley put on a brave face.
'Yeah, and I haven't given you your next year birthday present yet,' Potter added, wiping tears from his glasses.
The blue had reached Draco's neck and slowly covered his face. A playful smile still tugged on his lips. When he opened his eyes to look at them, the mismatched irises were clouded from view with a veil of dull red.
'What…better way…to die than…being…surrounded…by friends? Draco breathed out, eyes slipping shut.
'Don't say that, Draco, you are not dying,' Granger said determinedly, 'Theodore, tear your coat into strips, we need to cover the deep cuts first then-'
Heart-lifting music filled the air, getting louder by seconds until flame erupted on Potter's shoulder. Theodore had read about phoenixes and their light-oriented tendency. As a Slytherin through and through, he never dreamt of seeing one, much less being in close proximation of one. The crimson bird jumped off Potter's shoulder and stood near Draco's head.
'He…llo, Phoenix,' Draco spoke with difficulty, struggling to keep his eyelids open, 'Im no' worth…. sheddin' tears for, …am I? The person…ification …of all things evil. Chaos. Calamity. But…' Draco took in a shuddering breath, turning his head side way to look at the phoenix, 'Thank…you for…comin', my friends…..need your…help…'
Draco's eye drew shut and what little rise and fall his chest had been doing slowed down significantly.
'Oh no, he's going into shock! If we don't get him to the Hospital Wing soon, he will die!' Granger said in a frenzy.
'The entrance to the cave is blocked!' Potter pointed out
'And how do you suppose we could climb up a near vertical slide?' Weasley added.
'I-I don't know! Maybe-'
Through all the panic talking, Theodore watched in silence as the phoenix lay its head where the fang had pierced Draco's chest the deepest. He watched as thick, pearly tears trickle down the glossy feathers. He watched as the gashes knitted themselves back together where tears touch them. He watched as the unnatural blue fade from Draco's skin. And he released a grateful laugh, when Draco's eyes fluttered open, it was the familiar grey and green.
The others quietened at the sound of his laugh, and they were rushing at Draco, who had slipped back into oblivion.
The phoenix gave them all a lift out of the tunnel and dropped them all off in the Headmaster's Office. Asking Weasley and Granger to take Draco to the Hospital Wing, he and Potter stayed back to give their stories.
'I see,' The Headmaster said after listening to their tale, 'So the basilisk had a grudge against young Draco Malfoy and looked to kill him?'
'Yes Professor.' Potter answered, trying to keep in a yawn.
'Thank you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Nott. I won't keep you from your bed any longer.'
When Nott closed the door behind him, he saw the Headmaster looked at Lockhart over his half-moon spectacles, evaluating.
Without any prior agreement, Potter and he both set off for the Hospital Wing, where Weasley and Granger had already occupied two chairs around Draco's bed. He settled down on a chair and waited for his friend to wake up.
Loki dreamt of returning back to Asgard. The golden castle, Frigga's garden, the Bifrost. Everything was exactly the same as he remembered. Except there was no one there.
No servants bustling about with daily works. No soldiers training. No farmers, shoppers bargaining heatedly.
Silence greeted his sense.
'Funny how you remember Asgard, isn't it?' A voice from up above the apple tree drew his attention. 'You associate sounds with Asgard but subconsciously, you always wish for silent.'
'Who are you?' Loki asked guardedly.
'I am you, dummy,' The boy that jumped down from the branch looked exactly like Loki did when he was a teenager. Short tame black hair and a sorcery book under his arm. His eyes were mismatched like Loki's, blue and green to his gray and green.
'You are Draco.' Loki concluded.
'Well, true to an extend.' Draco struck a thinking pose, fist placed beneath the chin. 'You are Loki and Draco, I am Draco and Loki. See? We're the same.'
'Why am I here?'
'No reasons, I'm just curious.' Draco shrugged.
'Therefore you constructed this dream scape and took me here?'
'No,' Draco laughed, 'You constructed this dream scape, I just merely drop by.'
'Why would I recreate Asgard? I don't miss it.' Loki asked, mystified.
'You don't miss it? Subconscious never lies, me. In the deepest part of you heart, there's child in you wishing to see the real Asgard once more. You love Frigga very much.' Draco said subdued, and then he was patting Loki's shoulder jovially, 'Don't worry, you'll see Asgard again soon enough.'
'Wha-?' Loki did not even get a word in edgewise before Draco was talking again.
'By the way, don't be afraid of the blue so much. It doesn't define you.' Draco raised a blue-marked arm to Loki's face and snapped snowflakes into existence.
Loki just stared at it and unwillingly smiled.
'You are very strange.'
'We are strange.' Draco fixed him and glanced at the apple tree. 'Looks like your time is up. Have fun at school. And see you when you die. Or almost die.
'Wait, what are-' Loki tried to ask but Asgard was already fading away as well as Draco.
His eyelids are heavy, Loki decided after unsuccessfully demanding them to open. His entire body is heavy as a matter of fact is replaced by lead.
That was a strange dream he had. Draco had commanded the Jotun power like it was what he was born to do. Loki had to touch the Casket to turn his skin blue. And what did Draco mean by dying? Did Loki come that close to dying? Then why it was Asgard that greeted him instead of Hel? He distantly remembered the feeling of sharp fangs tearing at his skin and molten hot poison traveling ups and downs his body.
He truly should be dead.
No amount of antidote could neutralize that potent of venom.
...Who is he even thinking about? Magic existing among Midgardians was unco, and for a small number of them to command it, it was near impossible.
Loki should have gotten used to seeing impossibilities being made possible by wizards.
Sooner or later he would meet an Undead face-to-face.
Or an Immortal.
Whichever decided to seek him out first.
The weight lifted off his eyelids. Struggling to pry the glued eyelids open, he had to shut it immediately because of the glaring candle light.
Lifting his eyelids up slowly this time, he blinked the tears out of his eyes, and looked up.
Candles lined along the Hospital Wing wall. A fir tree stood from floor to ceiling adorned in golden socks stood at the corner. Loki turned to the bedside table. It was laden with gifts of every shapes and wrapping papers.
He could count his friends on one hand and still have fingers left.
Who would send presents to him?
''Bout time you wake up,' Theo's voice rang out from his feet and there was rustling as he put the parchment down on the bed. 'How're you feeling?'
Tired. Lethargic. Parched. Overall miserable. 'Bored.' Loki decided.
'I know you would say that.' Theodore smiled wickedly, hefting his school bag to Loki's face. 'Lucky for you, Christmas break started so there's not that much of schoolwork to catch up on. But Binns apparently had no sense of times and assigned essays for Christmas. So you have to do yours and help me with mine.' Theodore finished, brandishing two rolls of parchment at Loki.
'Layabout.'
'I personally prefer the term 'brainbox'-'
'Layabout.' Loki repeated, couldn't help the smile tugging on his lips. There were dark circles under Theo's eyes. Theo looked like he could use a bed in the Infirmary to catch a nap.
Theo shrugged and looked at the door 'The others will be here soon.'
'Others who?'
'You are really dense sometimes.' Theo sighed.
'Excuse you?' Loki took offense to that. He prided himself on his intellect and thoughts. Even coming from a friend, he wouldn't let this slide. 'Don't call me -'
He did not get the chance to voice his displeasure when the door swung open so quickly it banged into the door, rattling the the cup of water on his table.
Madam Pomfrey flew out from her office and proceeded to give the two Gryffindor boys a third degree. Granger hung behind, staring disapprovingly at her fellow Gryffindors.
When Madam Pomfrey finally let them off the hook, Potter and Weasley went on tiptoe to his bed.
'Thought you gonna sleep till the end of term,' Weasley said as greeting.
'How long-?'
'Eight days. Today is Christmas Eve,' Potter answered before he heard the full question.
The mood turned subdued immediately.
Eight? Loki gave himself a mental shake. Never before had he been confined to a healing bed for that long. The longest he had stayed in the healing ward was five days and all his bones were shattered then.
Loki dearly missed the resilience of Asgardian's body.
'Fawkes, the phoenix that is, healed the worst of your wounds but you still have a crushed ribcage, fractured arms, twisted leg and various cuts scattered through out your body. You also have a mild concussion.' Granger listed out his injuries, making Loki's eyebrows disappear into his hairline.
'Oh.' That was all he could say.
'What's with the down face?' Weasley said when no one said anything else, moving to the pile of presents. 'There are presents waiting to be opened. Looks like Mom knitted for you a Weasley jumper.' He held up a rumpled brown package.
Loki took it and untied the red ribbon. The green 'D' stood out against the silver wool, soft and warm to the touch.
'Thank you, Draco, for saving us,' Granger leant in a gave him a brief hug, 'For the second time.'
'You are welcome.' Loki dazedly whisper, too shock to response to his first thank-you hug.
'Right, this is too emotional for me,' Theo said, hands reaching for a basket of candies.
'That's for Draco,' Granger said displeasedly.
'So? Not like he can finish all this by himself,' Theo responded without a care, taking a chocolate frog out of the basket.
Loki watched as they bicker back and forth, Weasley sneak a hand into the basket and Potter keep a look out for Granger.
Perhaps he should start referring to those three by their first names, but he was getting used to calling them by their last names. Last names would do just fine for the three Gryffindors, Loki decided.
Easter started at the same time his hospital stay ended, right on time to decide for third year electives. Loki selected Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care for Magical Creatures without thinking of it.
No one paid him attention when he appeared in class, for which he was forever thankful.
Lockhart was fired and Snape took up Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The man knew his stuff so it was rather enjoyable to attend. Loki hadn't gotten past his fascination with Snape childish attempts at tormenting Potter.
When it was time to board the train, Potter pulled him aside.
'Can I still stay with you?' Potter asked, unsure of himself.
"Sure,' Dobby and Kreacher had made the Black House a rather liveable place, it would be such a waste if no one stayed there. 'I'll come pick you up.'
Potter's happy smile quelled Loki's worry about the summer up ahead.
AN: This chapter got out of my hand. Part of Kreacher's speech was taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Cross posted on AO3 under the same name. Please leave a review on your way out.
Steikje: Damn (in Norwegian)