He tried to ignore the sensations from the manor and focused back on the magic. Another subtle change. He could smell stone, and a faint hint of lingering feathers. No curiosity, no thoughts. There was chatter. Was that Dumbledore speaking with Aldoot? Was this the headmaster's chambers?

He could feel the manor again. Like a Malfoy it seemed to sneer in distaste. It clicked. Intellectual animations were not fans of golems. Hogwarts wasn't a thoughtful creation, but triggers all set up to act on one another. It explained why Death Eaters were able to storm the castle. It also explained why the manor was preventing the movers. It thought it was the ideal location. Malfoy manor indeed.

"Stop with the headmaster's office, try the great hall." He smelled food, almost tasting treacle tart in his mouth. But again, while the manor was attempting to prod at it with curiosity it was becoming disdainful with finding nothing like itself.

"The room of requirement." Surely something at Hogwarts had intellect.

The manor's magic spread across the room, more curious. Draco could feel the magical webbing of the room respond in kind. To Draco it was like he walked into a nest made by thousands of spiders. After that, even with the curiosity the manor had, Draco felt the wards activate.

He opened his eyes, expecting to see everyone there. They weren't. A shudder ran through him. Greg was gone too; the leather was gone. The dragons on the staircase, gone. Had the dragons attempted to attack them?

The creak of a door echoed in the empty ballroom, and he looked to the east doorway, where the door began to open. What reason had they to go there?

The door opened fully to reveal her.

She was standing there, staring at him with grey eyes like his own. She looked nothing like when he'd last seen her. She stood tall enough to reach the handles of the door. Her fingers twirled thick blond curls that reached her shoulders. Nothing like a bald helpless babe. He could feel his heart stop when those eyes caught his. She wore a white lace dress tied with a blue satin bow. She was as dainty as the dolls that danced on the mantel during Yule. He'd often imagined his mother would have bought her the richest of gowns, but none would have done justice to the simple splendor before him. He wanted to take a step towards her, but he was unable to move.

She walked to him, with all the confidence and grace of a Malfoy. Small heels clicked upon the wooden floor. One of his small dragon creations from the handrail rested on her shoulder. Its green body looked dark against her pale skin. The silver eyes gave it away - it was Solstice, the birch. The girl and dragon stood before him, staring up and into his eyes. He tried to find the words. To express his apology. It was then he felt the warm trail of a tear on his right cheek. She reached for it.

The instant her skin made contact he saw what could've been. Her first steps. Her smile when she was excited. Him teaching her to carve. Her eyes glittering with magic and delight as she held a willow wand. Him sending her off to Hogwarts. Her smile of joy as she jumped into his arms, rejoining after a year apart, her yellow tie of Hufflepuff half undone. Infinite memories that could never be, twirled before his eyes.

The words tried to come, but all he could do was watch. When the memories left, she was gone too.

"I think it would be easy. Obviously, we are connecting with Hogwarts. Mr. Malfoy knew exactly where we were trying to put her." Flitwick's voice echoed in the room.

"We should take a look at the marble regardless," Severus said.

"A trigger must be happening on the actual placement," Flitwick rebutted.

Draco was back in the ballroom; the one with carved dragons of wood and leather on the floor and aurors sitting on the staircase steps. It was the ballroom without her. The people in the room were so focused on getting the ghost of Granger out of his manor, that they were still in deep discussion on what else they could try.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

He tried to breathe, but air would barely go down. He tried to let out air, perhaps that was the problem. It came out like a silent sob. His hands went to his wet face, he was crying. He touched his flesh where she'd placed her fingers, right into a pool of tears and pulled his hand away.

A chill ran through him. It wasn't tears; it was blood.

His hand trembled. Through his fingers, he saw two large brown eyes looking up at him. Jiffy. The one that had helped him. He'd never uttered a word of it to Greg. For many good reasons.

"Would the young master like Jiffy to escort the guests out, allowing them to inspect the marble when they leave?" Jiffy was the patriarch house elf for a reason. Already the elf had formed a plan to get the people out of his house.

Draco took a breath, tried anyway. He at least got some air in. "Yes." His voice made more of a gasp than a word.

"All guests?" The hidden meaning, Greg too?

Draco grabbed onto the hem of his sleeves, like he was back to being a child trying on his father's dress robes for the Wizengamot. The action did not still the quivering. As much as he wanted to clear his throat to speak more clearly, he didn't need an audience or draw attention to himself. He nodded in answer.

Draco departed without a sound through the west door, hoping no one noticed. He wasn't sure he could pull off the Malfoy authoritative and dismissive tone needed to get them out, not enough to cover his cheeks stained with his own blood anyways. Not to mention, Flitwick had been acting all concerned — concerned people meddled. The last thing Draco needed was a trip to St. Mungo's.

Thankfully, none of them were paying attention anyway. He didn't make it far. He fell over in the corridor, fingers clawing at the wooden molding to hold himself upright even if he couldn't stand. His legs were shaking something fierce. His heart thrummed against his collarbone like he'd been playing quidditch for twelve hours straight. His stomach twisted and he could taste bile rising in the back of his throat. His vision blurred.

A scream came from behind him. "We are so close. We can't stop now!"

That bloody insane ghost.

The attachment to the manor let him feel her shooting down the hallway towards him. She found him easy enough. "How dare you. I've been kept here long enough."

He looked up at her and immediately she stopped yelling. Her hair had once again climbed to the ceiling, going through it even, but it returned to being frazzled.

Damn if he looked weak in front of a Gryffindor, even a dead one. He pushed himself up, barely making it. He didn't try to walk. Instead, he leaned against the wall. He cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that I need to investigate the wards more," it came out as a gasp, and he cleared his throat again. "I promise you; we will try another day." Clearing his throat hadn't helped. He knew he sounded pathetic to his own ears.

"You're bleeding from your eyes and ears," the ghost said.

Was it from attempting to help with the connection or from her? He didn't acknowledge the ghost's observation.

"You can let them know when you return in a week. I'll hopefully have made some progress with the wards," he said with the last of his breath. He panted trying to gulp in air, his mind once more being taken back to the images he'd seen in the ballroom. He tried to focus. The ghost became a blob of white and blue. He attempted to wipe at his eyes but could only feel the smear of blood.

"Do you need a healer?" her voice sounded close, and he could feel the chill from her breath.

St. Mungo's? His heart sped up even more at the thought of being at the mercy of another human being and they'd find out how mad he was. They'd strap him up like a prisoner, subject him to whatever they pleased. They'd let anyone who wanted to get even have a go at him too. Maybe it was what he deserved. At some point his heart couldn't take it anymore and he lost his grip on the wall. The world spun.

"No," he whispered.

"I'll go fetch help, hopefully they haven't all left."

Draco was in no position to stop her.

A pop sounded nearby, and it was followed by the smell of fresh baked bread.

"Porridge is here young master. Porridge has brought a stick for young master to use and won't touch the young master."

Draco felt something hard pressed against his hands. All at once, he was grateful it had not been his father's cane of silver and ebony. Instead, it was a thick tree branch of pine, he could feel the grit of bark beneath his palm like a comforting friend. He gripped it tightly. He used it and the wall to pull himself up. The world continued to spin, but he braced himself, blinking rapidly to clear the black spots and greying vision.

His gaze focused on Porridge. She looked up at him, her hands outstretched as if to catch him — but far enough away that she really wouldn't be able to and that eased his mind. Her wide eyes looked terrified, just like when she watched Salt being eaten by Nagini. He closed eyes and took a deep breath, counting, waiting until it really felt like he had air.

He opened his eyes. "I'm alright," he told her, trying to smile. "Well done on the walking staff."

Her little face looked less scared, but her ears tilted at his words. "Would young master take dinner in the west sitting room today?" She motioned to the closest door.

"If you wouldn't mind," Draco said, breathing a sigh of relief. The west sitting room had a couch that perhaps he could collapse into.

Her ears went up and down several times. She bit her lip, and then repeated the question, "Would young master take dinner in the west sitting room today?"

She hadn't understood the answer.

His smile became more natural. "Yes."

He expected her to pop away after that, to get dinner, but she stayed in the hallway. She moved to the door and opened it for him.

It took far longer than it should have to get from his location to the door. It took even longer to get to the couch. At his slow pace, Porridge rushed into the room, stole a pillow from every armchair, placed them all on the couch and then fluffed them by hand. There wasn't even room for him on the couch.

The elf then rushed to the door of the room, to close it behind him.

Draco shifted the pillows to be on one corner or the other, knowing that if he let one drop on the floor, she'd be likely to burst into tears. He then sat upon the center and leaned into the pillows on the left side. He didn't move his legs to lay down. If he did, he certainly would knock the pillows over with the jerking uncontrolled movements of his jittering body. But even with the uncontrolled energy, he felt ready to sleep — exhausted.

As much as he wanted to think about what had taken place in the ballroom, it turned his stomach and strangely, made him even more tired.

Porridge stood several feet away beside the couch but in view. Her feet shifted from side to side; her gaze upon him.

"Did Jiffy put you up to this?" Draco asked.

Porridge blinked and her eyes grew wide. "Jiffy said, he takes guests to see garden. Porridge to offer dinner in the west sitting room to the young master…. But not leave the young master, not even to bring him dinner, or clean his wounds." Her ears then began to quiver.

Before Draco could distract her, the elf burst into tears. "Porridge is stupid. Porridge not know what Jiffy wants or what young master needs. Porridge is a bad elf. Bad elves should be punished."

Before she could really work herself into a fit, Draco moved his hand in front of her face to draw her attention. "Jiffy wants you to keep me company. Standing right there, that's exactly what you were to do."

The elf blew her nose into her tea towel and then wiped at her eyes. "Porridge did good?"

"Yes."

Her ears stopped their quivering and she relaxed, and then she stared at him.

He closed his eyes and yawned.

"How does Porridge keep company if the young master sleeps?"

Jiffy had planned this, no doubt. Draco opened his eyes. Well, if he couldn't sleep… He looked at the bare grey walls of the room, his thoughts went back to replay what happened in the ballroom. His heart ached in his chest and stomach rolled. His mind felt as if it was attempting to separate from his skull. Why did all those with Black blood go mad?

His gaze fell to Porridge. If there was one benefit to Porridge, it was that she would not judge him.

"I saw her." Confessing the words out loud made it real, made him believe he wasn't as insane as his mind wanted to make him. He had seen her. She'd been in the ballroom, just down the hall.

The head of the elf tilted, not understanding. "Who?"

He didn't get a chance to answer the elf. The Gryffindor ghost zoomed into the center of the room, looked down upon him and then zoomed right back out. Draco didn't even feel her movements in his magic, not like he had earlier.

"He's in here." Her voice sounded distant.

Jiffy promptly appeared then, a bowl of water and two towels.

Wonderful. Draco took the towels and bowl as he righted himself into a sitting position. He began working on his face as Jiffy quickly sent Porridge away and then using magic, reorganized the pillows.

Jiffy popped away even before the pillows found their place, and his disappearance was followed soon after by human cries of alarm from further away, likely the ballroom.

What had Jiffy done to delay them?

Draco wiped at his face faster, dipping the rag multiple times until the water turned a brownish color. Jiffy returned, took the bowl away, just as the sound of dragon-hide boots echoed in the corridor… Severus.

Draco gave a long sigh. He did not feel like having a verbal sparring match.

The door opened and Draco could feel the air charged with Severus's magic. He'd always been a powerful wizard, but he rarely showed it. What had changed?

Draco turned and took in the sight of a magical barrier surrounding the man. Around him, swarming and diving at the shield were the dragons from the ballroom. They weren't attacking him, per-say, but they were enjoying the repelling factor of the shield. They were chirping at one another and looked to be competing as to which could bounce away from the shield the farthest.

Draco couldn't help the smile that formed as one bounced off the shield and into the armchair, landing in the center of a pillow. Severus did not look amused.

The man walked further into the room with purpose, stopping when he could see Draco in his entirety. The dark eyes assessed Draco and lingered on Draco's right shoulder. Following the gaze, Draco could see his clothes had not been cleaned of blood.

"By the way Miss Granger was panicking, I thought you were at death's door." The man folded his hands, the shield held firmly in place.

Draco swallowed and then said, "Gryffindors," with the best sneer he could manage. Good his voice was doing better.

"Indeed." Severus's words lingered in the air between them, like seven years of silence. The eyes then strayed to Draco's feet and limbs that had yet to stop shaking, before looking into Draco's eyes. The thin wizard didn't even flinch or look away when a dragon barrel rolled directly at his face before bouncing against the shield. "And nothing like snakes to wander off tall and proud only to find a hole in which they can curl up and die."

Draco could have played the game. It would be so easy to return to dodging around what they wanted to say with metaphors, but he'd grown past it once Crabb died. He'd wished he'd spoken directly to the child instead of using words the boy had never understood, never mind the warning to run as far as he could away from the Dark Lord. If Draco hadn't been such a prat attempting to prove his intellect, Crabb might have lived — at the very least, would have had a choice. "I've not gone off to die. I just decided to rest and recover; I overexerted myself. Like I told the ghost, I will need time to assess the wards. Things were not as I expected."

The man's lips pursed.

More footsteps sounded in the hall.

"What the hell are these things, Malfoy?" Potter asked, stepping into the room after Severus. Potter had not gone with a shield. Instead, several creatures had busied themselves by chewing upon his messy hair, attempting to groom him. The man gave a weak swat, but the dragons evaded him only to return with gusto when his hand dropped.

"Intellectual animations," Draco replied, but it wasn't just him who'd spoken the words.

Flitwick came into the room having answered at the same time. The man fared the best, a single, red-bellied dragon had laid claim to his shoulder, and it crooned as the man petted it. "The second they started having fun with Severus's shield I knew what they were. Golems are set on reactive triggers — these have minds of their own. They are brilliant! Simply brilliant! I got to see one in France many, many years ago but have never heard of so many in one place. I didn't know such crafters still existed. They must have cost a fortune."

Perhaps had he not handmade them they would have.

"I said leave me alone," Granger cried, flying into the room last. Eight dragons tailed her. Some dived into her wispy form, to then shiver, others blew fire at her — in some crazed attempt to warm her up.

"As interesting as these creatures are, I think we should be assessing why Draco became injured in a mere attempt to move a ghost. A blood bonded manor shouldn't have been fighting its owner," Severus said speaking over Granger's cries. The man raised a brow at Draco in expectation.

Very well, the ghost's screeches were starting to get on his nerves too. Draco cleared his throat. "Enough." Finally, authority came out.

But the little dragons were far too excited to pay him heed. The only one that came to Draco was one of the dragons chewing upon Potter's hair. The green creature landed upon his shoulder and laid its cheek upon his. Silver eyes stared up at his. Draco blinked. Solstice, this was the dragon that had been with her. His breath caught in his throat.

Granger, seeing Draco could do nothing to stop the wretches, gave a final hiss at the creatures before flying through the ceiling. Several of the more foolish dragons smacked against it trying to follow her. They then began inspecting the ceiling with scrutiny, digging their claws into the wood to hang upside down as they did so. Jiffy was going to be furious.

The dragons on the ceiling chirped and whistled, and soon the bouncing dragons and those tugging upon Potter's hair joined the quest of finding how Granger managed to go through the ceiling.

Filius jumped up upon a footrest and then jumped into a plush armchair backwards so not to disturb the dragon that hadn't left his arm. He then gave Draco a relieved smile. "You look much better than we thought; Miss Granger was quite concerned. If you were truly so bad, we were trying to figure out how best to move you to St. Mungo's. Your house-elf put up quite the fuss and threatened to remove us from the premise by force should we make such an attempt. I think he might have released the dragons upon us."

Jiffy probably knew the second they had him in a hospital they wouldn't let him go. He'd have to reward the house-elf later. Threatening a wizard - not good form, but appreciated, nonetheless.

Severus looked annoyed at the manners of the elf as he used his wand to cancel the shield, Potter though —

"He reminded me so much of Dobby," the man said, a sad smile lingered on his lips and his eyes held a glimmer of remorse. He drifted over to the remaining armchair on the far side of the sat on the arm, instead of in the seat.

"He should. Jiffy is Dobby's father," Draco said quietly, forcing himself to not remember the night of Potter's escape.

Jiffy appeared after the call of his name.

Potter blinked in surprise, and he stared at Jiffy, mouth agape. Did Potter think elves popped out of walls?

Jiffy held out a platter to Draco, upon it sat a blue glass potion bottle. Ah, he hadn't taken the last one. He took the new bottle from Jiffy, no need to refuse the elf and let Severus know he hadn't consumed the last. He popped the stopper.

"Now that the guests that have stayed past their welcome have seen young master is fine, will young master raise the wards and send them away?" Jiffy asked.

Draco's lips tilted slightly. He heard what went unsaid by the elf. It didn't want him to drink the potion with company present. How strong of a brew was it?

Jiffy watched him closely, ears tilted back almost as if expecting a blow. Ah, this was the first time the elf had such nerve in front of company. His father would have caned Jiffy senseless had it been in private, killed him had it been done in public. Not that Jiffy would ever say such things in front of Lucius though. No, Jiffy only started speaking like this after the reign of terror was over and they were both left with each other for company. Draco would never become his father. He'd rather die.

"Wonderful idea," Draco said, the elf responded with all ears going back as if waiting for backlash like Draco had been sarcastic. Draco turned his attention back to the guests and the elf popped away. "As you can see, I'm alive, but tired. I'll need some time to inspect some things, but I'll send an owl as soon as possible so we can help Granger. I think it best if you leave. Sadly, I do not feel well enough to escort you out."

"I would like to ensure you have not sapped all of your magic. Would you allow for your magical core to be assessed?" Severus's eyes then focused on the bottle. Damn, from his view he could probably see the dark color inside was not the right hue, not to mention no steam rose like from pepper-up. He could also probably smell the cinnamon and hibiscus too. Those were not in magical replenisher potions. "Perhaps you should take your… medicine… first if you are feeling so unwell."

The man all but confessed he couldn't identify the potion. For a potion master as great as he, that would make him curious.

"No, I don't believe anything is wrong with my magic, but thank you for the offer." Like hell would he willingly allow them to cast such a spell on him. Not to mention he didn't trust anyone in the room enough for it to even work, well perhaps he could trust Flitwick. The man had proven himself that night in Draco's eighth year.

Severus took several steps forward and closer to Draco.

Far too close for Draco's comfort. The beak of a nose lowered close to Draco's hand that held the bottle and gave a sniff. Draco's heart began hammering again, so loud he could hear it in his own ears. The man only had to lean a bit further and touch him. Far too close!

Draco gripped the bottle tightly and the man's dark gaze then turned to him. Did he want to be crucio'd or enjoy Bella's latest surprise spell? Did he want to be slow minded before Severus or a pathetic creature who vomited and ran away? He never had much in the way of choices.

Without much amusement, he gave a smile.

"Cheers," he said. He motioned with the glass as if to toast his own demise and then downed the contents.