When morning came, Draco sleepily rolled out of bed, went into his bathroom, and brushed his teeth with his eyes still closed, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. He hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep, having stayed up too late with his mind preoccupied by the evening with Amaris. If she was staying for breakfast, maybe they would have another opportunity alone where they wouldn't be interrupted—
Draco was suddenly awake as he remembered Aunt Bellatrix had come home last night, which meant the Dark Lord was possibly in the manor. He spit the toothpaste into the sink, hastily rinsed his mouth out, and all but ran downstairs to the sitting room to find a fire popping in the hearth, his father in a chair, his mother on the couch sipping tea, and Amaris curled on the other end, still wearing his pajamas. They all turned to look at him.
"Good morning, my love," his mother said with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"
Draco brushed his hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down and nodded. He came around the couch and sat on the ottoman nearest Amaris.
"Merry Christmas," his mother said, and both his father and Amaris echoed the sentiment.
"Merry Christmas," he said.
"Are you hungry?" his mother asked.
He looked at the breakfast tray laden with a teapot, cups, milk, and sugar to drink and Stollen spirals to eat. He was too hyped with adrenaline to consider putting anything on his stomach so he shook his head. His mother threw him a smile then resumed a quiet conversation with his father.
Draco glanced at Amaris sipping her tea and nibbling on a spiral. She seemed so at ease. He had been worried for nothing. He hunched over and propped his elbows on his knees, releasing a silent exhale of relief.
"Good morning," she said softly.
"Morning," he murmured.
"You look tired," she observed.
Draco looked her directly in the eyes and leaned slightly toward her before replying, "I had a lot on my mind." He noted the way she swallowed harder. His gaze danced over her face. "You don't seem to have had any trouble sleeping."
"Oh, I did," she told him with an easy smile, "but that's kind of you to say."
Draco started to smirk, hopeful about what their day together might entrail, when his Aunt Bellatrix walked into the room, her hair a wild nest on her head and her face clear of make-up, making her a frightful visage so early in the morning. He went completely still as she sauntered over to them and dropped that morning's copy of The Daily Prophet down on the coffee table. All conversation stopped as everyone leaned in to look.
The picture showed a ghastly photograph of a dead Agatha Brumley, and the headline read,
Society Tutor Found Dead
Aunt Bellatrix flashed Amaris a cat-like grin. "Merry Christmas," she purred, and then plucked up a spiral and sank her rotten teeth into it.
Draco's blood turned to ice as he looked at Amaris staring at the newspaper in shock, the word Fuck repeating endlessly in his head. She was horrified, on the verge of tears—it was all over her face. He had to get her out of there. He had to explain. But explain what?
Amaris had told him she didn't hate him, that his mark was just a mark, but did she really have the fortitude to endure this kind of senseless killing when even Draco could barely cope with watching Professor Burbage murdered? She might not hate him, but this might push her away from him, away from tying herself to his family. His Aunt Bellatrix was ruining everything. Fuck!
Draco looked at his parents, watched them exchange glances.
"This is grave news," his father said evenly. "I'm sure you wish to be with your uncle now. I'll take you home as soon as you're ready."
Amaris nodded and stiffly stood up, still staring down at the paper. "I'll get my things," she said quietly and walked out.
Draco shot to his feet but didn't go after her. What could he say? She might ask him why this had happened and he didn't want to admit that it was his fault, that he had known for a long time her tutor slapped her around, that her own uncle had admitted to Draco that he allowed it, and that he had told his parents about it over summer. But he never intended for this to happen… Would she be angry with him? Would she blame him?
His father kissed his mother's brow then went up to change. Aunt Bellatrix shrugged and reached for another spiral. Draco picked up the newspaper and skimmed the article. He grimaced as the details popped out at him.
"You cut out her tongue," he said, looking at his aunt. "Why?"
"She kept running her mouth. Said some very nasty things about us," his aunt told him. "About your little girl. I told her to shut up." Her mouth smacked on the P. "But she didn't." Aunt Bellatrix pouted for a moment before saying, "So I cut out her tongue," and then she chomped down on the breakfast pastry and laughed.
"Bella, please," his mother muttered. His aunt just giggled and walked out of the room. She sighed. "Draco—"
"Did you do this?" he blurted.
"Of course not," she answered calmly.
"But you told her. Why?"
"She's my sister."
Draco shook his head in disbelief. His mother had never condoned his aunt's violent behavior nor had he ever seen her use her wand to inflict pain. But she had also been the strongest of the three of them in the face of the Dark Lord's horrors, completely stone-faced. He never thought she would be capable of killing another person, but would she be able to set someone up to die?
"Did you know she'd do this?" he rasped, holding up the paper.
"We take care of our own," his father said from behind him.
Draco whirled around to see his father standing there, his face impassive. Draco glanced back at his mother but her expression gave nothing away. He didn't understand. His parents had suggested moving the engagement up to get Amaris away from her tutor… Why would they then have her killed?
He didn't know what to say. How could he complain? They thought they were protecting her. Even if neither of them had a personal hand in the tutor's execution, they had facilitated it. Even if they didn't mean for Aunt Bellatrix to kill her, they had encouraged it by telling her in the first place. She was violent and unpredictable, and she had a soft spot for family, Draco in particular. She had threatened Mr. Selwyn to get his match with Amaris because she cared for him, and killing the tutor slapping around his fiancée was, in her twisted mind, an appropriate gift. Fuck. If Amaris found out, she'd want nothing to do with his family…
"She's sensitive," he choked out. "She—"
"Doesn't need to know," his mother finished for him. "So I suggest we put this unpleasantness behind us."
He clenched his jaw and nodded, dropping the newspaper onto the table like it was tainted. They waited in silence until Amaris came down wearing her evening dress. They all walked her to the door and said their brief goodbyes.
"See you at school," he murmured, and she only nodded, her eyes glassy and her face drawn. He watched as his father led her out of the house and down the driveway, the sky a bleak gray.
When his father returned, the Christmas decorations had been removed. The lights had gone out. The manor was again dark and cold.
Author's Note: Originally, this scene was going to show Aunt Bellatrix kill Agatha Brumley in front of Amaris, but it felt both too dramatic and too traumatic, so I decided against it. Also, all of Amaris's clothes and jewelry (including Draco's gifts) are inspired by real items.
