Draco stood before the vanishing cabinet with trepidation. It was the appointed hour, but he heard no rustling. No singing. Nothing. He reached out and opened the door. The white bird lay on the floor, dead.
-o-
Draco saw her in the courtyard from a window several floors up. One minute, he was walking through the corridors, numb. The next, she was there, Amaris Grey, her hair like a beacon in the fog. He didn't know what came over him, but he found himself ripping a sheet of parchment from his satchel, scribbling a note, and folding it into an origami bird. A quick charm had the note fluttering off to her.
A paper bird. In place of a real one. It was dead, just like he would be soon. Like his mother and father would be if he couldn't repair the cabinet and kill Dumbledore.
Grey caught the note and looked around in surprise for the sender. When she opened it up and read the words—meet me at the south tower—her eyes quickly found his. By the look on her face, he knew she would come.
He immediately went to the tower and climbed up to the floor where she had made her stars and confessed that she never intended to match with him. He waited, uncertain as to what to say to her. The truth was that he just needed to see her so he could stop seeing that dead bird…
Her footsteps on the stone caused him to stand a little straighter. When she appeared, he held his breath. She looked a little winded, like she ran all the way there. Their eyes locked, but neither said a word. She stepped fully onto the landing and took one step closer.
"Hello," she said. He nodded at her. Her eyes bounced over him before coming back to his face. "Is everything all right?"
"Fine," he replied crisply. It was a lie.
"You missed a Transfiguration assignment," she pointed out. His jaw clenched. "That isn't like you."
"Had a lot on my mind," he admitted with a shrug. They were silent again. Draco knew he needed to say something, to justify why he had called her there, but he was coming up blank. He looked around the room then out the window. Inspiration struck him. "Show me your stars."
"My what?"
He pointed to the window. "When I saw you here the first time, you were making stars."
Her face lit up in understanding. "Oh!" A small smile appeared on her mouth that he zeroed in on. "I didn't realize you noticed."
Grey drew her wand and muttered under her breath, and a thousand tiny lights leapt from her wand. The small room between staircases became a bubble of stars. She walked slowly around the space, murmuring her spells and swishing her wand. Red, yellow, and blue dots winked into existence. A nebula exploded here and a singularity formed there. Draco watched in awe. Though he was looking at literal magic unfurling before him, there was also something inherently magical about what he was looking at.
"What do you think?" she asked when she had finished, her joy barely contained in that close-lipped smile she wore, fingers twisting nervously around her wand.
"It's amazing," he replied honestly and her joy broke free as her smile widened, showing teeth. It was so infectious that he found a small smile forming on his own lips. He tore his gaze away from her and began walking around the room, taking it all in. "Is this what it really looks like up there?"
"Give or take a red dwarf or two."
"Are all the constellations here?"
"Some of them. This is just a sliver of our sky—the far northern sky, to be precise. But…" She flicked her wand and fourteen stars lit up near him. "This is one of my favorites," she said.
He stopped to take them in, but he had never seen the constellations outside of a telescope or a book. He had no idea what he was looking at from this angle. He frowned and shook his head. "I don't know it," he admitted.
"It's Draco," she told him.
His eyes snapped to hers and his heart thumped a little harder. Standing across the room, wreathed in stars, she looked so beautiful that he found himself holding his breath again. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word bounced around in his head as he stared at her.
She fidgeted under his scrutiny. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he snapped, caught off-guard by her words and his involuntary reaction to them. "Why?"
"You've just never sought me out before," she explained. If only she knew how wrong she was. "I thought maybe something was wrong. You seem…tense."
"I'm not tense, Grey." He adjusted his tie. "I'm busy."
"Oh."
They stood there awkwardly for a moment before she sat down beneath the window, legs stretched out in front of her. Draco hesitated and then sat down beside her. Silence. He tried to think of something to say. It was so much easier when they weren't at school. It felt more natural. He had no idea why. He even wore one of his black suits, as he had taken to wearing them whenever he didn't have to go to class. It helped him to feel like himself, to feel in control. But somehow with Grey, even that didn't seem to stabilize their dynamic. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before facing forward. Maybe it was because she was still wearing her uniform.
"Sometimes, at Hogwarts, I never feel alone," she said, breaking the silence, "between the students and staff and ghosts. But then you find yourself in a moment like this, where you can't hear another living thing, and you feel like you might be the only one in the entire castle."
Draco slowly blinked, staring at the stars. "Sometimes, it was like that at home. Now, I don't mind it as much, but when I was a kid, I…"
"…What?"
He hesitated then said, "I couldn't find my parents. I thought they had left me. I panicked." He shook his head, wondering why he had even brought it up. "It was stupid."
Suddenly her hand landed on his. His fingers twitched reflexively. Her touch was so warm. He hadn't realized he had been cold.
"You were a kid," she said, and there wasn't anything contrite in her tone. "It's not stupid. I can't imagine growing up in a house so big."
"You didn't live in a house like your Uncle's?" he asked.
"Not even close." She giggled. "My parents lived in a cottage in the country. My grandparents used to say there was no need for us to live like poor people, which was just silly." She leaned toward him and murmured, "If you had seen the cottage, you would know it was very fine indeed!" She straightened again. "I remember dad telling grandmother that we just liked to be cozy. She did not like that." She laughed again. "When I came to my uncle's house, I actually got lost many times. At least your house is beautiful to look at! I don't think I would have minded getting lost in those gardens."
His home wasn't beautiful anymore. It felt as dark and cold as the Selwyn Estate.
Grey sighed wistfully. "I miss my home…"
"What happened to it?"
"I don't know. Uncle said he was going to sell it. I suppose he did."
Draco looked at her, at that faraway look on her face. Her hand was still on top of his and he didn't move it.
"What was it like?"
"Warm. Full of light. At least, that's how I remember it. A tree grew through the center of the house and all the rooms circled around it. Dad made a fort up in the branches for me." She smiled, her feet tapping the air in joy. "In the summer, the house smelled like scones. Mom would make them with the fresh blueberries we picked. Outside, you could see for miles, nothing but fields and woods."
Draco vaguely remembered her telling him about her tree fort that summer in Ireland. She couldn't wait to show him and he couldn't wait to see it, as if it was a matter of when, not if. The more he thought about it, the more he recalled the plans they had made of various games to play. He huffed out a laugh.
"What?"
"Just remembering our plan to turn your tree fort into a castle and defend it from dragons."
She beamed. "I had dad help me fortify it. I couldn't wait to show you. I pestered my mother for a month to let you come over."
He slowly nodded. "I asked my mother when we were going to visit. She said 'soon', but it never happened. Why is that?"
"I don't know," she sighed thoughtfully. "But I wish you could have seen it."
Draco tucked his thumb across her fingers, the only move he would make to hold her hand. "So do I," he confessed quietly.
After another stretch of silence, Grey cleared her throat. "I have to go to class. Do you…need anything?"
He shook his head and she stood, brushed off her skirt, and then lifted her wand, presumably to clear out her spell.
"Leave it," he said.
She stopped mid-flick and looked at him, a tiny smile that she struggled to hide lifting the corners of her mouth. She nodded, waved to him, and disappeared down the steps. Draco looked at the stars again, at her favorite constellation, and allowed himself to smile.
-o-
Draco stood before the vanishing cabinet with determination. He had repaired the physical damage, as per Borgin's instructions, but the transportation had ended in failure. It was time to run other tests and inspections on the complex magical layers woven into the vanishing cabinet's functionality.
He had a clear goal. He could do this. He had been chosen.
-o-
"Draco."
Draco stared down at his half-eaten plate of food without seeing it, lost in thought. He had run every test on the vanishing cabinet that he could and had sent the findings to Borgin, but it was too soon to hear back. What was wrong with the cabinet? Was it one thing or many things? How long would it take to repair it? Could it even be done? He hadn't anticipated it taking so long…
"Draco!" Theo yelled and his head snapped up in surprise. "Merlin's balls, Draco," his friend said, flabbergasted. "You even in there?"
"What do you want?" he asked tightly. He was still sore at Theo for sending Blaise to pretend to seduce Grey just to get a rise out of him.
"You were staring at your food, mate," Theo said. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't forget how to eat. It's fork to mouth, so you know."
Draco barely managed not to roll his eyes and, instead, started to push away from the table. He wasn't hungry and he wanted to be alone.
"Draco!" Pansy's hand landed on his arm, stopping him from getting up. He looked at her from across the table, expecting her to be angry that he was leaving her to tend to their prefect duties alone again, but she only looked worried. "Where are you off to?"
"Nowhere," he said.
"It's somewhere," she insisted gently. "We barely see you anymore outside of classes. You're always going off." She glanced at the wizards on either side of him, both lost in food and conversation, then murmured, "Even Crabbe and Goyle don't know what's going on."
"I'm busy," he told her.
"With what? It's not classwork…"
"I told you I wouldn't be carrying on here." He pulled his arm from her grasp.
She grimaced, looking to Theo for help. He shrugged. She sighed. "I'm worried, Draco."
"Don't be. I can take care of myself."
"But you don't have to do it all by yourself."
Draco hesitated, taking her in. For the first time in a long time, he really looked at her, at her pleading brown eyes framed by dark hair and olive skin. It struck him through the haze his life had become that she was his friend. She was trying to support him, to understand.
"She's right, mate," Theo said. "We're here for you."
All Draco managed was a nod before he left the table. They thought they were there for him, but they had no idea what he was really up to, what would happen once he repaired that cabinet. They had no idea who was living in his house or whose mark was writhing on his arm. Maybe they wouldn't mind. Maybe they would support him.
But Draco didn't need their support. He didn't need their reminders of who he was. He knew who he was and what he represented. That persona and those values had been his entire life. But now it all felt too loud and too heavy, and all he wanted was a moment of quiet.
A moment to be just Draco, not the Malfoy heir.
-o-
Draco stood before the vanishing cabinet in frustration. Waiting for Borgin's instructions was agonizing, the flow of information slow. He knew he had to be patient, that the old man was trying to repair the cabinet from a distance, but the year was rolling by at top speed. It was almost time for winter exams. At this rate, he wouldn't even be able to go home.
He tossed a green apple into the air, up and down, trying to focus instead on a new plan to kill Dumbledore before the year was up.
-o-
Draco stepped out of The Three Broomsticks where he had finished spelling Madame Rosmerta to poison the mead intended as a gift to Dumbledore. Snow was piled up around the door. The entire village was blanketed in white, though that did little to discourage the townsfolk from going out, and did even less to discourage Hogwarts students from enjoying their visit.
As Draco started up the path toward the castle, he spied Grey wearing a dark blue, wool sweater dress and standing outside of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop with—wait. Was that the Ravenclaw from before? And they were standing outside the establishment that couples tended to frequent. A strange sensation swept over him—anger, betrayal, possessiveness—just like it had outside of Charms, and he found his feet carrying him in their direction.
"Grey," he barked, interrupting them. She whirled to face him, concern—possibly guilt—all over her face.
"Draco," the Ravenclaw said, offering his hand. "Nice to see you again."
Draco ignored him, fixing Grey with an accusatory stare. How dare she come here with that idiot? She had promised she wouldn't be matched. Why entertain the fool at all? Unless she really liked him… She had worn blue. What could she possibly see in him? Why didn't she tell him?
"Having fun, are you?" he hissed. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She just gaped at him, brows furrowed.
"It seems like you two need to talk…" the Ravenclaw mumbled. He reached out and touched her arm. Draco's lip curled in disgust, fingers itching to remove his hand from her. "I'll see you later."
Grey just nodded, forcing a brief, polite smile on her face. The Ravenclaw rushed into the tea house. Draco scoffed and started to walk away. She hurried to keep pace with him.
"I can't believe you came here with him," he snapped.
"I didn't," she assured him.
"Liar! You're even wearing blue."
"That's a coincidence—"
"And I suppose it's a coincidence you were standing outside Madam Puddifoot's?"
"No, he was meeting with someone there. Please, wait!"
She took hold of his arm as if to pull him back, but his stride could not be broken. Her foot must have caught in the snow because she tipped forward with a yelp and fell, dropping her bag. Draco whirled around, worry rattling him in a way he hadn't expected. But then she pushed herself to her knees and he saw the snow had been deep enough to cushion her fall.
Draco rolled his eyes to disguise his guilt. "Tch, stand up, Grey," he muttered, hooking his arms under hers and lifting her onto her feet. Snow covered her down her front, clung to her hair, and frosted her chin. Her thin fingers swiped at her clothes, trying to dust herself off. "Idiot," he breathed, gently knocking the snow out of her hair and swiping his thumb across her chin. "Can't you walk properly?"
"I wasn't with Hugo," she said firmly. "He bumped into me leaving Scrivenshaft's and knocked me into the snow. He told me he was meeting a friend at the tea house and offered to buy me a cup as an apology. I said no. He was just apologizing…"
Draco clenched his jaw and looked around, relief washing over him. It briefly occurred to him that he should apologize, but instead he sniffed and said, "Fine." Draco eyed her. "Are you finished?"
She nodded and bent to pick up her parcel. Draco beat her to it. The corner had Scrivenshaft's insignia on it. Before he could think twice about it, she quickly jerked it out of his hands and hugged it to her chest. He lifted his brows expectantly.
"Thank you," was all she said.
"I'm not going to steal your quills, Grey," he said and turned to go.
"Draco!" she blurted. He half-turned back to her, feigning boredom. "Why don't you play Quidditch anymore?"
The question caught him off guard and he found himself looking away, at anywhere but her. "It bores me. Why do you care?"
"I have no one to cheer for…"
His eyes slid to hers, chest tightening, attraction mounting. He was blasted back to last Christmas, them standing in his garden demanding that she cheer for him. He should have kissed her then. He should kiss her now, but he was certain she would reject him. If she really thought he had danced with her with friendship in mind, then he was sure that was all she saw between them.
Did he really want her to see more between them? She was still a blood traitor. There was no future for them. And if she knew what he was doing, what he planned to do… If she knew what mark was on his arm, she would hate him.
"You do look nice in blue," he said quietly. She smiled and came to his side.
The walk back to Hogwarts was slow with Grey's shorter stride, but Draco matched her pace step for step, even though they didn't say a single word to one another the whole trip back.
-o-
Draco stood before the vanishing cabinet in desperation. No letters had come for him from Borgin, only ones from his mother—she misses him, Aunt Bellatrix sends her love, the Dark Lord remains their honored guest.
He repeated the spells Borgin had given him at the beginning of the year, over and over again, just to be sure he didn't mess them up.
Nothing changed.
-o-
Draco rushed up the south tower to the landing where he always met with her and was surprised to see Grey had beaten him there. She may have called him there that time, but he had made a point to always get there first. He liked the idea of her coming to him. Draco slowed as she turned to look at him, wanting to appear unhurried. He took her in where she stood by the window, wearing her uniform, as always. He wished she would wear something else.
"Hey," she greeted him with a smile.
They hadn't spoken since Hogsmeade and her words from that day were still circling in his head, making him feel things he wasn't certain about. Things he had trouble denying, resisting.
Draco nodded his greeting, unable to find his voice. She motioned him over. That's when he noticed she had a white bundle in her hands. He crossed to her as she peeled back the layers of cloth and picked up an apricot scone. Eagerness swept over him and his mouth began to water.
"Try this," she said, offering it to him.
Try? He would devour it. Instead of taking it, however, he guided her elbow higher so that he could bite it out of her hand. He enjoyed the little flustered flutter on her face. But as he chewed, he grimaced at the dry, tasteless mash on his tongue. He couldn't help the disgusted grunt he made. Grey winced.
"It's awful, isn't it? I can tell by your face." She sighed and dropped it into the bundle, wrapped it up, and stuffed it in her bag. "I knew it."
He forced himself to swallow. "Knew what?"
"It would taste bad." She shook her head. "We were practicing altering foods into others. I thought, perhaps, I could replicate the scones with magic, but it didn't work."
"No," he agreed with a slight cough, wishing he had something to wash down the awful flavor. "It didn't. You had to test it out on me?"
"Sorry." She produced a bottle of water and handed it to him. He drank deep. "I should have known. My mother always said that what you do with your hands can be just as powerful as what you do with magic." She exhaled a breathy laugh. "In this case, more so."
Draco took another pull on the water and then handed it back to her. "You say that a lot."
"What?"
"Things your mother used to say." He thought back through their conversations, trying to recall all the moments and their quotes. "Catching flies with honey," he said haltingly, unable to remember the exact wording, "not assuming the worst in others, and now this."
"Yes," she giggled, "my mom's mantras to live by. Well, not the bit about working with your hands. That was just something she said. She had a lot of sayings…"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Mantras?" he repeated and she nodded.
"Three, to be specific."
"And I suppose they're your mantras now."
"I try."
"What are they?"
She held up her forefinger. "If you always assume the worst in someone, you will always receive their worst." Her middle finger joined the first, counting. "Do not jump to conclusions lest you judge others for your own misunderstandings." Her ring finger popped up. "Kindness is a choice."
Draco studied her for a long moment, at the way her expression changed as she lowered her hand and looked out the window. Emotion leapt into her eyes, seriousness stealing over her features.
"Choose to be kind, even when it is the hardest choice to make. She told me that repeatedly." A muscle feathered in her jaw. "That's how she lived her life, so I try to live that way. I want to. So that I can be like her. So that she'll be proud of me."
Suddenly everything Draco knew about Grey made sense, why she was the way that she was. She was trying to make her parents proud just like he was, struggling in her own ways. Her kindness was real, and that hooked into him in a way he hadn't anticipated.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to formulate a response, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he thought about the opal necklace in his drawer. He should give it to her. Now that he knew how hard she was trying to be like her mother, she deserved to have it. To feel closer to her.
The thought of the necklace reminded him why his mother wanted him to give it to her in the first place, and that thought turned toward the Ravenclaw who had approached her. Twice. How many others had there been? Just because Blaise hadn't meant it did not mean that others weren't serious about matching with her.
"Do they still bother you?" he asked. She looked at him in confusion. "Wizards angling for a match."
Her mouth made an O-shape. "Oooh," she breathed out. "Sometimes. I think you scared some of them off."
"Only some?" he asked, annoyed. She shrugged, smiling like it was funny. It wasn't funny. Not even a little bit.
Grey pulled out the bundle of abysmal scones. "Do you think the birds would eat them?"
Draco studied her for a long moment as she frowned at the magical treats, debating quietly to herself. She had easily moved on from the match and her suitors, but he couldn't.
Draco came to a decision. He would give her the necklace. He wanted her to have it. He wanted to get rid of it. But also, he wanted to create confusion as to whether or not she was available, to make people wonder if their match really was broken, or if that had been another rumor. He didn't know why. There was no future for them. Nothing would change except how others saw them. But he would be in control of what they saw.
Draco liked being in control.
"You're not satisfied just poisoning me? Now you're going to poison the birds?"
She looked at him like she wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. "No! Was it really that bad?"
"I might have to see Madam Pomfrey," he joked seriously, "if I want to survive the night."
This time, she did laugh. "Ugh, I'm so sorry. You're being dramatic, of course. But I am sorry."
"Sorry you almost killed me?"
She tsked and playfully swatted his arm. He resisted a grin.
"Now you're resorting to physical violence? What would your mother say?"
Grey gave him a look like he could jump out the window, but instead of scolding him, she gently patted his arm where she'd hit him.
"Better?"
"No."
"Good thing you're going to see Madam Pomfrey."
He shifted to face her. "She can administer an antidote and heal broken bones—"
"Broken bones?" she interrupted, flabbergasted.
"—but she can't do anything about the trauma I've suffered," he continued. "What do you plan to do about that, Grey?"
"I could say I'm sorry."
"It's a start."
"I'm sorry."
"Good. And?"
She hummed thoughtfully. "I could make you real scones."
"Almost there."
Her mouth twisted as she tried to think of something else. Draco stared at her lips, unsure what he was angling for. He knew he couldn't coax her into anything physical. If something happened between them, he would have to initiate it.
Grey folded her hands in front of her, clearly unable to come to a decision. "How can I make amends?"
Draco hesitated, debating initiating that intimacy. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and smirked.
"You're not that injured," she said before he could open his mouth.
"You don't know what I was going to say," he told her. And neither did I.
"I knew from the look on your face that your request would be ridiculous."
Draco chuckled. "Fine," he conceded. "Just the scones, then."
"I promise." She smiled and hefted the bundle. "Well, I should dispose of these before anyone else gets hurt."
"You should," he agreed, "or else Slughorn will have us brew antidotes for those."
She playfully huffed and rolled her eyes. At the stairs, she waved at him. He did not wave back, but his eyes never left her until she disappeared from view.
-o-
Draco stood before the vanishing cabinet in relief. Borgin had finally sent word. He was to repair the alchemical seals binding the interconnected magic. The tricky part will be the supplies, Borgin had written, but Draco knew he could steal them from Slughorn's stores.
He stepped forward and touched the outer wall of the cabinet. The binding did feel weak… Not at all like the one he touched at Borgin and Burkes, or at least it seemed that way. It was hard to tell. He had only seen the other vanishing cabinet once over the summer. There had been so much to take in.
Renewed, Draco returned the cabinet's cover and smirked.
Author's Note: There's almost no information on how Draco repaired the vanishing cabinet so I had to do a little guesswork on this.
