He awoke in bed. He hadn't woken in a bed in many years. He could almost hear Bella's breaths next to him. He rolled onto the floor, summoning a protego in the same instance wandlessly.
It took a moment, but he remembered — his aunt was dead.
His protego dropped, and he sought his wand. Not in the pockets of his sleepwear, not on the dresser beside the bed. There was no one in the room, but there was a chess set upon the table, one of the one's he'd gifted to Vega. A room which he finally determined was his old bedroom.
Without personal effects like Bulgarian Quidditch posters to don the walls, the pale green room looked like any of the other guest rooms. But the door, the cut in the middle from dodging his aunt's knife in the midst of one of her bouts of madness, he recognized. His fingers touched the chipped wood; he could feel dark magic from the spot. Where the dark mark used to be itched on his arm.
He backed away. He looked around the room with new eyes. Without the door, he wouldn't have known. He hadn't been in this room in years. His fingers trailed along the oak bed stand. Jiffy had kept the place spotless, not a speck of dust.
Draco's gaze strayed to the bed. The pale linens messed by sleep. He looked away and to the open window, wiping his sweating palms against his sleep clothes — a satin top and bottom, something Jiffy would have dressed him in. There were still too many dark memories here, he could almost hear his aunt's screams along with his own, they were followed by the faint echo of a baby elf's whimpers.
He opened the window and took a deep breath, tasting the fresh dew in the air. How many times had this been his only form of escape?
He pulled himself out. The two-story drop used to scare him, but with his feet bare and his strong grip upon the red bricks he had little to fear. He scaled the wall with certainty of muscle memory, climbing down until ivy leaves touched his feet. From there he dropped, allowing the devil's snare to grab him.
Without him struggling, the plant moved him to the lawn right beside the kitchen door. He opened the oak door and the sight of Jiffy glaring greeted him.
"Young master should be ashamed of his strange ways," the elf reprimanded.
"Out of all the things to be ashamed of, climbing out of a window seems to be the least of them," Draco winked, taking enjoyment from riling the old elf.
"Without proper footwear," the elf said as he stepped aside and allowed Draco into the room.
Draco looked down at his feet before he entered, he hadn't really thought about it. "Without proper footwear," Draco permitted the correction. He brushed off his feet by wiping one at a time on the inside of his pants before stepping in, ducking as he did so for the doorway was much lower than typical. His feet were warmed instantly, he hadn't even noticed they'd been cold.
The fire crackled on the other side of the room from the opening. A teakettle rested on the counter nearest the flame, steam coming from it.
The house elf set a cup of tea on the kitchen isle near the fire but out of the way of any work to be done. And with a snap of fingers, a small barstool floated to the spot. The elf didn't look back at Draco and gave a motion with his hands for Draco to sit, giving an audible hruff as he got back to work.
Draco made his way carefully between the maze of counters without knocking anything over. The kitchen was purely serviceable to house elves, not humans. Draco sat himself on the stool and picked up the cup. He breathed in lavender before taking a sip. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth spread out from his chest.
Draco opened his eyes and looked at Jiffy. Time to know what he was in for. "Who is still here?"
Jiffy turned to him. "The potions master and the man who killed Jiffy's son." The old creature's skin sagged more as the elf hunched at the words.
Draco's eyes softened and took a sip, wondering how to start such a conversation. "Harry Potter did not kill your son, Jiffy."
The house elf didn't say anything, it turned back to placing firewood in the oven.
Draco felt the need for fresh air. "Or are you not speaking of Potter?" Were you speaking of me?
The elf froze in its work, "Who else?"
Who else indeed… He would play the game though, he was a Slytherin. It was what went unsaid that mattered most. He drank his tea silently and let the elf turn back to tending the fire.
But at some point, he needed to own up to his actions, didn't he?
"Dobby spoke to me, before attempting to rescue Potter," Draco said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The head elf's ears twitched, and then the old elf turned. Eyes wide in alarm. So, the old elf hadn't known.
"Which elf brought Dobby to the young master? Which elf disobeyed letting Dobby see the young master alone? Which elf caused the young master to be punished?" The voice grew louder at each question and more hysterical.
Draco blinked in surprise. He'd never heard Jiffy like this, the elf had always been tame and collected. Draco looked away from the wild gaze. Of course, the head elf would be upset by the incident. A house elf had gotten into the house without his knowledge. But Draco had commanded the other elf to not speak of the incident, not even to Jiffy. He ignored Jiffy's questions, not that it mattered. Like the majority of Malfoy elves, that elf had succumbed to Nagini's taste of flesh.
"Dobby made them think he wanted to return to service. But regardless, I gave Dobby leave to save them. Potter is not responsible for Dobby's death. I am."
The elf reacted strangely to the news, the anger dissipating into glee. "Did Dobby return to the young master's service?" Hope shone in the old eyes.
The question was clear. Before he died, was Dobby a Malfoy elf? "No," Draco told him softly, "Dobby died a free elf."
The house elf's eyes grew dark, and shoulders retracting back to their hunched form. "Dobby tricked the other elf and tried to trick a master."
"No, I wasn't tricked. Tell me Jiffy, is it any different — whether under service or not — to perform a task when asked?" Draco pleaded for Jiffy to understand.
The elf turned away.
Draco reached out and touched the elf's shoulder, and then the elf looked up at him. "I was going to find a way to get Potter and the others out myself, and he provided the perfect opportunity. Dobby died completing my last request of him. For that he took a blade to his chest. So yes, he died for me. He died serving me even though I was not directly his master. Dobby saved the one who ended up defending me in court, who made sure I never stepped foot in Azkaban unless of my own free will."
The hunched back straightened a bit; the eyes glistened with pride. "Dobby was to be the next patriarch. Of course, he died in service to the young master." The elf turned fully to his task, but his grip then tightened on the log he was about to place into the hearth. He tossed it in, uncharacteristically. "Better though, to only die when the master commands it."
The matter dropped between them with the silence broken only by crackling of wood.
Draco took a long sip of tea, letting his gaze roam the kitchen. Things were narrow, counters short. Draco had been given a designated place at the far corner of the island in the center to stay out of the way of the elves but give him viewing access to all.
Before his aunt came home, he'd never been in a kitchen before. When he'd finally been brave enough to climb out the window, and he found the door, it had been his sole refuge — his aunt had never been in one either. He'd terrified the house elves at the time. Porridge, Salt, Toffee and Jiffy had found him in a cabinet under a prep counter between the flour and cutting blocks. The great thing about house elves is that they didn't ask questions. They didn't gossip about having a wizard about to come into majority hiding in cabinets with a wand drawn like a child playing auror. Except it had been anything but a game. When it became obvious, he intended to return repeatedly, Jiffy — without fail — had tea laced with calming draught every morning. In fact, the habit had continued a year past the end of the war — until the elf started putting the tea near where Draco awoke. A clear sign that Draco was to stop going to the kitchens.
Draco finished the tea, no calming draught within it. The elf had weaned him of that as well.
Porridge arrived with a pop and squeaked at his early rising — twice in a row. She started on making food, apologizing.
Draco didn't reprimand her for the apologies. Instead, he waited until she was done sobbing to quietly mutter, "I intend to go back to my routine as soon as I get the guests to leave."
With that, his gaze went back to Jiffy. He'd specifically asked him to get them out.
Jiffy turned, filling up the drained teacup with more tea. "The master intended to die. It is a house elf's duty to ensure the master's line continues before they die," answering the unasked question.
Draco's grip on the teacup tightened.
Porridge took almost a minute to understand the meaning and stopped her cooking, her eyes widening. "Shame on Jiffy." she said with a whisper when she recovered.
"Bad Jiffy," the elf agreed and turned around fully intending to put his hand in the fire when Draco grabbed the wrinkled arm.
Draco noted the elf did not say sorry for the words, but nevertheless — Draco held the hand away from the flames.
"Master is too kind - Jiffy did wrong," Porridge said, eyes wide with innocence.
"I am shrewd, not kind, Porridge," Draco hissed, reprimanding her.
She started crying.
He spoke over her apologies, "Enough, Porridge. There is much work to be done in the manor and not enough elves as it is. Don't think about hindering your ability to where your job can't be done."
The old elf gave a nod of acknowledgement although he would not meet Draco's eyes.
Draco released the grip on the arm and looked away from the creature. "Go and fetch me something decent."
The eldest elf popped away, leaving Draco with Porridge.
She looked up at him, while blowing her nose on her tea towel. She gave a loud sniff and then another. All while making direct eye contact with him with a forlorn expression upon her features.
She was one step away from more hysterics. "Serve breakfast in the main dining hall," Draco said.
"Like Lady Malfoy is still here?" Porridge's ears perked up in excitement.
She wanted to use the fancy porcelain, likely gather an array of flowers. If that is what she wanted. "Yes," Draco told her.
Porridge danced on the balls of her feet, forgetting her earlier bout of whimpering. She hummed an odd tune as she washed up and then started cutting fat slices of bacon.
Jiffy returned with clothes and shoes, setting them on the table beside Draco's empty teacup.
Draco stepped out of the kitchen and into the closest bathroom. He changed quickly, giving only a quick glance in the mirror. He leaned close to the reflective surface. His skin had been tan for working out in the forest and gathering wood for his projects. He was not expecting to look so pale, pale enough to see purple marks under his eyes. His fingers clenched the white marble countertop. A side effect from the astral plane. He was starting to remember the book now… He needed to find any reference he could. He knocked his knuckles against the marble and then straightened his back.
He strode out of the bathroom, head held high, only to be cornered by two wizards.
"You climbed out a window?" Severus leaned against the hallway wall; he must have been glaring at the bathroom door this entire time to have gotten one so dark.
Potter leaned on the opposing wall; his brow curled as if in thought. Potter thinking, that was scary. "How did you know the door was charmed with an alarm without your wand?" Scary indeed.
He hadn't known, but Bella had tendencies to charm his door and the hallway outside of his room every so often. Although he'd be lucky if it were just an alarm. It was one of the reasons it had been routine to escape out of a window. She thought him jumping would toughen him. It was best not to answer questions sometimes. He shrugged, as if it were obvious.
"Are you in a better state of mind?" Severus asked.
Draco blinked, analyzing the question. They were referring to last night's incident, and his attempt to return to the ballroom. He had every intention of talking to her still, he was fully aware however that they would not permit such. They wanted to know if they could leave. To answer that was easy. "Of course, I was just a bit spooked is all. I'm in a much better state of mind. My apologies for worrying you enough to stay the night." Now all he had to do was just get them out. "I am having breakfast in the dining room, if you would care to join me."
A flicker of silent conversation seemed to pass between the two men. Since when did Severus and Potter pick up on each other's silent cues? A bit of a pain shot through Draco; he'd obviously missed a lot keeping away from society.
"Breakfast would be lovely." Since when did Severus say the word 'lovely'?
"This way," Draco motioned with his hand, although he was fully aware that Severus probably knew the house just as well as he did.
He'd redone the dining room after the ballroom. The floor was done fully in cedar, the table and chairs with birch. He'd not wanted to waste supplies leftover from the ballroom. The only intellectual animations were again the chandelier dragons for lighting at night. The chairs and table were not as elegant as the ones that he'd burned. It had been his first attempt at furniture, and he hadn't any desire to learn upholstery - so the chairs had cushioning charms instead. In the center of the table a bouquet of pink and white flowers held in place by a crystal vase. Their sweet smell filled the room, without them it would be obvious the room hadn't been used at all since he'd redone it as the place would smell too strongly of cedar.
Severus seemed to take in the room in one great scan. "How many rooms have you renovated?"
"Quite a few." Draco hadn't bothered to count, nor did he want to. He just needed to make sure that every dark corner had been replaced - a count was meaningless. They'd touched far too many places.
"I'm not sure even Cissa would recognize the place," Severus's gaze held on the ceiling, at the dragons.
It kept every hour of etiquette practice and standing before the Dark Lord and Aunt Bella to not change facial expressions. Severus had no right using his mother's nickname, not when he'd befriended them only to get into the Dark Lord's inner circle.
Before he could answer, Porridge arrived with their meal. The smell of bacon overcame flowers, and Potter's stomach growled. They all took seats.
They didn't speak much during the meal and the silence felt deafening. Draco hated it. It reminded him too much of when the Dark Lord sat at the table. By the end he wanted to stand and leave. It had been a long time since he'd eaten with anyone but Porridge and Greg's family - and this was a reminder of how terrible of an experience it was.
At the end, Severus let out a sigh.
Draco's hope that they would leave promptly after eating was destroyed. He knew that sigh. It was a sigh of both disappointment and having to speak about said disappointment. Like clockwork, the man put the blue glass bottle on the table. "Would you care to give away your supplier?"
Supplier, as in it was an illegal substance? Except it wasn't even known to the outside world.
"Undocumented or unpublished potions are illegal to sell and trade due to health-related issues this could cause the public," Potter said quietly, "Severus is quite certain he's never come across this before. If you give away your supplier, then there would be no penalty to you."
Since when was it 'Severus'? The friendliness between the two of them made him want to vomit. "I made the potion myself; no apothecaries were involved in the creation. All ingredients are legal and sold in most stores. I do have my supplies shipped here from Diagon Alley, they have record of all my transactions should you be interested. I believe it is entirely legal for me to create my own potions."
There was a flicker in Potter's eyes, distrust.
"You really should have a mastery before experimenting, Draco," Severus said slowly. He picked up the glass bottle and rotated it in his hands.
Draco let his eyes flick to the dark solemn orbs. Part of him wanted to sneer and ask who would let a Death Eater like him apprentice. No one, because he had tried. The potion had been a necessity, to appear normal around his goddaughter who wanted physical affection. He turned his attention to the centerpiece on the table. He blinked, recognizing the flowers now that he studied them. There were daisies and dahlias, but the most prominent flowers were lilies. Touché Porridge, perhaps there was a Malfoy elf in her after all. Lady Malfoy never allowed lilies at the table when Uncle Severus came to visit. Something about love lost. The man hadn't seemed any different, perhaps that too had been a ploy to gain his mother's trust.
"You're right." Draco moved his gaze back to Severus. "I should have a mastery before experimenting." He could agree with the logic, but that didn't mean he had to listen to it.
Severus sighed again, as if understanding that the agreement meant little. "May I have the recipe?"
"For?" Draco's eyes went between the two of them. "Is this being asked for by the Ministry?"
Potter's eyes narrowed, "Should it be?"
Severus rolled his eyes at Potter, "When Madam Pomfrey stops by to check on you, I need to let her know what you can be given."
Draco's heart gave a bit of a sickening lurch. A school nurse was nothing like an actual healer, but it meant close quarters and who knew if she'd sentence him to an asylum. Could she have that power? He was going to have to sneak a potion prior to her arrival or deny her entry.
"I think that is a bit overboard," Draco said.
Potter tapped the fork he was holding on the table in unconscious irritation — Narcissa would have slapped that hand with a switch. "According to the other professors, the astral plane is not something to be taken lightly."
"I would have let you send for the family healer, but I had a feeling you wouldn't." Severus cut over Potter. "The astral plane is serious, Draco. Very few people survive its encounters."
Draco wanted to let out a biting snarl that he could take care of himself, like he had been for the last several years. But he knew it wouldn't sound sane enough. He'd had enough time to think on how he'd interacted last night to know he probably looked like he was on the edge of a cliff. Greg surely already thought it, even though he knew better than to say anything to anyone.
"If you give me the recipe and I'll make sure of that -" Severus started.
"I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be able to discern the potion for herself. Like you mentioned Potter, it is illegal to share undocumented and unpublished potions and I wouldn't want someone coming back to blame me. As a healer, Madam Pomfrey is excluded from such a law for diagnosing and helping patients."
Potter's glare looked a lot like Severus's. "I'm an auror."
"But you're not asking for it as an auror. Both you and Severus would be breaking the law."
Instead of the glare turning more thunderous, like Severus's wrought to do, Potter got red in the cheeks. "You're stretching the truth."
"I am a potions master," Severus said as if expecting this battle. "It is normal to collaborate on projects. The law is not quite as strict as Harry let on."
"I am not part of the potions guild, so that exception does not apply to me." Draco knew his rights.
A gentle pop of apparition filled the room and Jiffy was to Draco's left. "There is a floo call from Hogwarts and a request for permission to come through."
"Go ahead and let her in," Draco told the elf. There was no use sending the nurse away; they were just going to start escalating the situation. The sooner he could get this done with, the sooner he'd be done with them. The sooner he could concentrate on the more important problem, how to communicate with this astral plane without killing himself.
"If you are done eating, we can meet her in the drawing room that's connected to the floo," Draco said.
The two men nodded and then Jiffy floated the plates onto a tray.
The wizards all rose, and Draco opened the door and extended his hand. While they were busy walking through, he extended his other hand to his house elf. Jiffy passed him a small blue glass bottle. Smart elf. He pulled himself back in the doorway and went behind as the two men continued down the hallway unaware.
He drained the bottle in half a second and handed it back to Jiffy. Not as strong as yesterday - but hopefully it would be enough to get him through an appointment with a medic. He took a breath, feeling a sense of calmness surrounding him. It would be fine. He gave a sharp nod to the elf, he'd done well. He then walked through the doorway, surprised to see the two had started coming back for him.
He raised a brow at them - he hated being watched so closely.
He could see Severus' lip curl ever so slightly. "Your pupils are dilated."
He would have laughed had he not had food this morning. Instead, he ignored the comment and walked by them. His head held high and face straight. Mimicking his father prior to multiple Azkaban sentences.
