There was a lot of work to do. The first was getting the coffin exhumed. He was willing to do anything — paperwork, confundus, obliviate – to get it done quickly. After taking a week to recover. He'd gone to Gringotts in the dead of night, perks of being from an old family, to withdraw money he deemed necessary to move the process along. Dealing with the muggles had been easy with charmed paperwork. The process moved without any problems. The coffin would be placed in the funeral home and then he'd get movers. This was to be done by next Tuesday.
He began building the separate coffins after getting the date. "Your wand wood, Granger, what was it?"
"Vine wood."
At that, Draco wanted to curse. There was no way to find a vine wood thick enough to make a coffin. However, he would have to make do and make a coffin from a wood wrapped in vine wood. Hopefully that would be enough. He and Vega searched the woods, hoping to find a decent specimen. There were few specimens - and none were decent. Vines growing on trees tended to damage them. No vines had been planted in the forest and his family took care for several centuries removing such from the property to not hinder the family business. He did find several trees on the south side of the forest that had not been taken care of. He made a mental note to clean the forest floor of the invasive things once he was done. He selected a beech, wicker like it was in appearance without the vine and with the vines even more so.
He cut down the trees with magic using his wand. He stripped them of their branches and bark, intending to use the heartwood for the coffins. He moved everything inside with the help of Jiffy's magic.
He opened the family map - marking the cut trees with a blood quill. He also noted the spread of vines with normal ink quill, so that once the problem was dealt with, he could remove the markings.
He did end up needing to use a potion to get the sizing needed for a coffin by combining sides together. For a normal project, he might have used joints. However, for the top and front of the coffin he wanted them to appear whole.
All the work was done in the ballroom. His bedroom still had remnant magic, and he did not trust himself.
He'd caught sight of her in the room when he'd gone to grab books on the potion. She'd been speaking with Solstice. But as quickly as these fleeting sights came, they went. He did not dare enter the grass. He wasn't sure if his core would be ready in time for him to perform the release ritual as it was. He wasn't sure of the best location to do the release. He finally decided that the other willow room he would need to use. But it too had been impacted by the magic. There was unnatural wind.
He carved in the ballroom. Vega kept him company, and the little dragons at night. They would dance in the wood shavings or swoop into them with gusto. Vega kept them inline, they didn't get close to the coffins.
The ghost got bored watching the process within an hour, although she'd been happy to contribute that she wanted a griffin on her coffin, if possible. The ghost would go to the library, and strangely enough Antares tended to follow her around and ask her questions about things. She'd continued reading out loud to the creature, even now she was attempting to teach it letters.
Vega, however, wouldn't leave his side. The creature walked beside him in the hallways and went into the forest with him. It didn't even let him into the bathroom by himself until he put up a fuss. It would curl by the door - awaiting his return.
He'd given him a voice, but Vega would rarely speak. It had given up its game of chess. It would lay its head on his lap whenever he took a pause from his work. And subconsciously, Draco found him stroking its head when in thought of how to continue the piece.
He'd finished Granger's coffin on the fifth day. Without pause he then turned to make his daughter's. Knowing how to make one now, it became easier getting the shape right. He'd forgotten about the painting of his grandfather until it spoke.
"Whom are you intending to bury?"
Draco's eyes flicked to the sound. "I'm intending to re-bury." The painting wasn't informed at all, thankfully so. He was a bit surprised that it had taken the painting this long to speak. Abraxas had never been one to lack words before or not complain for that matter. "I'll be transferring bodies to new coffins." It was obvious by now that there had to be two. "This should free the ghost."
"How was she buried the first time around? What burial ritual was so powerful that it even bound her spirit?"
Draco didn't answer. The wood glided in his hands, and he was about to start the fine detail work. His hand drifted to Vega. He didn't know what to put on her coffin. A peacock - for his family crest - did not seem fitting. Perhaps he would carve such off to the side, but he didn't believe it should be the center piece.
"I can think of several. All you are currently capable of, but as a child I find them all equally unlikely." The painting focused on the smaller coffin. "Well, perhaps just one. If the ritual contained the parents' blood to begin with, it would be impossible to undo it."
Draco did not let his eyes leave the small coffin. Although to his own chagrin he noticed that he'd stopped stroking the dragon's head.
"But you would know that. Thus - Why was your child killed in this manor?"
Draco's hand gripped the chisel in his hand tighter. He didn't acknowledge his grandfather, until finally the silence seemed overbearing. "Why does any Malfoy child die in this household?"
They both would know the answer to that. Draco was no idiot. He may have been a first born, but he was an only child for a reason. It angered him. Abraxas had recorded the death of Lucius' two older siblings and one younger. Part of him wanted to scream at the man - accuse him of the monstrosities he had performed. But it would do no good. The man could obviously not fathom the guilt or sorrow or pain. The man hadn't known love in life - definitely not as a painting.
"I see." The painting paused for a moment. "I suppose I have no right to call you a child. You had the guts to do what I could not."
Draco blinked and looked at the painting.
"I gave my children to the muggle world. Had you come to me, I would have explained how."
A sharp pain seemed to pierce his heart. There were many other options. He'd always been too blind to see them. The anger inside of him surged. How was he to know the difference between friend and foe? Nothing - there was nothing to distinguish them. Slytherins and their lies, falsehoods, and masks. But truly he was only angry at himself. How obvious now, that he should have tried something different. Had he been braver, had he been willing to risk his own life. If he'd been willing to think for himself. If he'd known how long Bella would have waited for signs of magic before deciding the child's fate. He'd fooled himself into thinking there was more time, that she'd be a witch, that the war would end, that he'd be able to escape. But life was treacherous and fast paced. His anger died.
"What happened to them?" Draco asked.
"When I was living, I checked in on them from time to time. But I do not know anything since my death. My two eldest married, one dying in a muggle contraption soon after and leaving no children. The other had several. My youngest was doing well in the muggle system of education. I donated money for her to attend their highest level. She was aiming to become a muggle healer."
He had family out there. Squibs, half-bloods, but family nonetheless. Could he have gone to them? It was far too late now to know.
"I felt weak at the time," the portrait said, "my own father would have killed me if he'd known I'd let a Malfoy go that had no magical bloodline."
"There is nothing strong about taking innocent life." Draco spoke quietly. "To flee from the consequences of your actions, that is weak."
"Is that why you chose death, to flee?"
"No, I would never have chosen death." He glared at the painting. "But I was not strong enough to save her. And I was too scared to take action until it was too late."
The painting's eyes closed for a moment, absorbing the confession. "A household full of death eaters. How long did they wait for the appearance of magic?"
"Eight months."
"They should have waited a year."
"By the time I returned home from school she was gone." He'd been formulating a plan - though secretly had believed her magic would show through. "I didn't show magic until my ninth month."
He remembered his mother discussing it with his father in fear one night. The reason he had no siblings - what if their next child was a squib? They'd opted for no more children instead of making such a call.
"I'm surprised, I didn't know of a child in the manor."
"Bellatrix kept her locked away."
The painting's eyes hardened, and he looked ready to say something. But the words seemed to die on his lips as another thought occurred to him. "Bellatrix had odd hours which she would train you. Clemence noted her frequent passages in your wing of the manor."
Draco felt sickness in his stomach and turned his eyes away from the piercing blue gaze. "I didn't have much choice in the training she wished to give me." He glanced back at the painting, condemnation had left the gaze and it was replaced with fury.
The voice was softer than anything Draco had ever heard from his grandfather before; it was barely audible in the room. It sent chills up Draco's spine. The fury beneath the words was unmistakable. "No… you were just a child; I suspect you had no choice at all."
Draco's hand shook and he forced his mind to focus its attention on the present to escape the past. He wanted the conversation over, he would move his supplies to another room of the manor.
As if sensing his intention to leave. The voice returned to normal. "I take it you saw her in the astral plane - 'What could have been'," he quoted.
"Yes."
The painting was silent for several long moments. "What will you carve on her coffin?"
"I don't know yet." Draco returned to scratching the head of Vega. He closed his eyes, attempting to imagine anything fitting but falling short.
The painting spoke once more, "What was her name?"
Draco opened his eyes, meeting the solemn gaze of his grandfather. "Aquarius."
The manor reacted to the sound. A breeze seemed to drift in the room and Solstice awoke and gave a chirp. It examined the room and then flew to the small coffin. It landed there and chirped down at Vega. Vega sat up and they seemed to appear to converse with one another without making more sound.
The painting watched the wood shavings dance in the strange wind before settling back down. Its expression squished together, looking pained. "She would have been powerful."
Why was bloody magic so important? "Regardless of magic she would have been perfect."
For the first time he saw his grandfather smile - not smirk. "The sign of a true parent, their children are always perfect."
Draco felt uncomfortable at the look, the strangeness and wrongness of it. He was no parent. "Why did you put them in the muggle world?"
"They were too precious to touch," the painting said, "and too precious to limit their opportunities. While I would have been content raising them as they were, I know how squibs are treated. I know how I treated them. They would always be treated as lesser. While I loved them then, I'd seen other parents before me grow more anxious and angrier at their children in time. We, your grandmother and I, decided that only pain would come of it. We ensured they were raised properly but knew we could not insert ourselves into their lives."
Would he have been able to give her up? No, he knew he would have been too selfish.
The painting saw the expression. "It was not a decision we made lightly. But it is difficult enough to live in one world – we could not force them to live in two. Sometimes the right decision is the most painful one."
Draco gave a pained scoff. "I guarantee you, the wrong decision is the most painful."
The painting's lips tilted down. "Yes, you are right. I cannot imagine…"
Silence filled the room then until Solstice drew Draco's attention with a chirp.
"There is nothing for you to carve, Solstice wishes to guard her final resting place," Vega spoke. The quiet voice was soft, tranquil almost. His dragon gave a nod at the small one and then looked to Draco. "Just Solstice, no more is needed."
Draco gently kissed the top of the small dragon's head. "Thank you," he told the small dragon, "For looking after her." He spoke quietly, so that the painting would not hear.
Draco patted Vega's head. "Then it is time we start preparing for the ritual. I need to do a cleansing and then I will need to start collecting blood."
"Who will be helping you with the ritual?" Abraxas asked.
Draco turned to the painting. "No one, it will just be me."
The lips tilted downward. "That is unwise. If she returns to being a Sethcoria, she will kill you."
"She hadn't shown signs of being a Sethcoria before."
"Sethcorias may take up to two years to manifest. By now, releasing the seal would let it take form immediately."
"Then that is the fate I deserve," Draco told the painting with finality.
"You did not intentionally harm her or k-"
"But I did nothing when she was harmed, and I did not save her. If it will give her peace to kill me, then it will be my peace to die."
"All of this to free a ghost. Does she know that she may sentence you to death?"
"This is to free more than just one ghost." When it looked like the painting was going to continue to berate him, Draco continued, "Sometimes the right choice – is the most painful one."
That did silence him. After a long stare the portrait then spoke, "When?"
"When preparations are done and the old coffin arrives." The coffin would arrive today or tomorrow. There was no need to give a timeline to a painting.
A/N If you've read this far, many thanks. I try not bug with too many Author Notes. If you have the time - I'd love any feedback you can offer. What haven't you liked and/or is there something you've enjoyed? I aim to get better at writing and am open to any critique. Thus far the slow pace / lack of movement of this novel is what I myself find to be lacking, and maybe setting. But I'd hate to be blind if there are other areas I'm lacking. Thanks again! Z.z
