Here's the edited version of chapter 1 - again, no major changes, just cleaned it up a bit. Enjoy!
Chapter 1 - Draco
Nine months later - October 1998
I heard the classroom door bang, crashing against the wall as I slung myself into a seat at the back of the room. My momentum all but sent me sliding straight across the chair and into Lovegood's lap. Thankfully, I grabbed the edge of the desk, catching myself in time to prevent the awkward situation, and I swear, the girl didn't even look up. It wasn't as if my entrance was easy to miss, either. I had come charging in just as Flitwick was calling roll, my clothes rumpled and flying in every direction, my hair falling in my face, only to dramatically throw myself into the only available chair - the chair Lovegood had obviously saved for me. The bang of the classroom door, followed by my loud deposition of myself into my seat drew every eye in the room. Flitwick trailed off halfway through Terry Boot's name as the entire room stared at me, gaping. Everyone except the person I was closest to, that is.
I can't decide if she is the most scattered person I have ever met or the most collected. I suppose it really could be either, depending on your point of view. Or the day. Either way, today, I would have given a million galleons for a bit of her calm. My entrance was decidedly un-Malfoyish, and I wasn't done disgracing myself yet. Rushing in disheveled and frantic - my mother would have tutted, my father would have sneered, my younger self would have sneered. Hell, I would have sneered at myself yesterday. No wonder I was drawing so many eyes.
It was hardly the first time I had run through the halls to get to a class I was late for, but then again, I was the only one who knew that. On any other day, I would have stopped at the door, straightened my clothes, caught my breath, and ensured a thoroughly bored look was firmly in place before I calmly strolled into the room. After all, Draco Malfoy didn't care if he was late. Draco Malfoy thought attendance was a courtesy, a favor to the professor, because he would pass the class anyway. Draco Malfoy was Slytherin's prince, after all.
I didn't feel much like Draco Malfoy this morning.
Flitwick spared me one more mildly startled glance before calling Boot's name again and proceeding with roll. I bent down, riffling through my bag, and noticed that he didn't bother to call my name. I supposed it was unnecessary now. I quickly located my textbook, parchment, and damn it, I'd left my quill in the library. That was the last straw. The dregs of my remaining self-possession slipped away, and though I hated myself for it, I dropped my head into my hand for just a moment. No one was looking. Everyone's attention was either on the minuscule professor, or their text, or whoever they were currently in lust with. No one noticed that the ever-collected Draco Malfoy was having a meltdown, so I let myself have three brief seconds. Three seconds to scrub at my eyes, rub circles into my forehead, take two deep breaths, and pull myself the hell together.
I felt something nudge at the elbow supporting my head. My first instinct was to lash out, batting away whatever had the nerve to butt in on my mental breakdown, but even in my scattered state, I realized that another outburst would hardly help. So slowly, I turned my head, peering through my fingers at whatever it was. Blinking, I stared at the long brown quill that was insistently bugging my arm. I threw a glance at Lovegood, but she was engrossed in her book, which was, as usual, upside down. How she managed to remain one of the top students in the school when that was the only way I ever saw her read was beyond me. Crazy witch.
I gave her a slight, stiff nod before picking up the quill, which instantly stilled in my hand. Thank Merlin for small mercies - it would have been bloody hard to write with the thing jerking around in my hand. She didn't even acknowledge me. The only indication she even noticed was a small upturn of her lips. It was tiny and lasted less than a second, almost making me wonder if I had imagined it. But no, it was Lovegood. That was how she operated.
With an almost inaudible huff, I faced the front of the room where Flitwick was partway through an explanation of the Protean charm. I'd attempted the charm back in the summer before sixth year when Theo and I were both convinced we wouldn't survive until September. I had enchanted two Bertie Botts' beans so that one could at least inform the other if he was about to die - I'd thought that a stale piece of candy in the bottom of a sixteen-year-old boy's pocket was unlikely to be confiscated. I had been right, but something hadn't been quite right with the charm. It had been sporadic and unreliable, several times making me jump as I thought my mate was in danger, only to later find that the charm had activated itself while he was eating breakfast or sleeping. I was interested to see where I had gone wrong, so I channeled all my mental focus into listening to the high-pitched voice of my professor, pushing my other worries aside. There would be time for them later.
Despite my interest in the topic, the class period went by more slowly than a half-sleeping giant. As soon as it was over, I was out of my seat and headed toward the door. I didn't even know where I was going - lunch was next, and then I had a free period, so I didn't exactly have anywhere I needed to be. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there. Away from staring eyes, from the incessant hum of voices, from the seemingly violent crush of bodies. I wasn't able to deal with any of it right now. I was a bloody mess, and I needed to process...all of it. I had to come to terms with what was happening before everyone found out. Because they would. It would be soon, likely tomorrow, and I needed to be back under my own command to handle the stares, the comments that would inevitably come.
I was so close, almost to the door when I was stopped. "Draco Malfy, wait a moment please,"
Her voice washed over me, and I froze. She sounded as if she were half asleep. Bloody Luna Lovegood and her inability to stay out of my business. I could feel my shoulders tense as I slowly turned around and leveled her with a stare, silently daring her to ask, to question, to push.
She maneuvered her way around the desk and moved towards me, stopping a perfectly acceptable distance away. Her neck was craned as she tipped her head back to look into my eyes. I knew it. I knew I looked like hell warmed over. My shirt was untucked, and both it and my trousers were horribly wrinkled. My tie was only halfway tied, and I'd been repeatedly running my hands through my hair, so I knew my head must look something akin to a blond peacock. Her mouth opened, and in that moment, I knew she was going to ask. She was going to ask, and I was going to lose it, and
"Might I have my quill back?"
I blinked at her mild question, staring at her for the second it took my brain to catch up to her words. I had completely forgotten her wordless loan.
"Right, of course," I dropped to my knee on the classroom floor, slinging my bookbag off my shoulder to riffle through it in search of the quill. We were directly in front of the door, so a swarm of students flowed around us as they left for lunch. I could feel their eyes on me without having to look up. Their eyes were always on me recently, and the looks were usually anything but pleasant. Then this morning, I came to class late. I had run into the classroom, giving the impression that I might actually care, and they had all noticed. I felt irritation building as I dug for the quill, trying to ignore the silent questions being launched in my direction by the teenagers who all seemed to press just a little too close as they stepped around me. Book, book, parchment, book, chocolate, book, I identified each item by touch, staring up at the ceiling, until finally. I smirked faintly, looking up at her as I held out her quill.
Which was snapped in half.
"Shite," I groaned, pushing at my hair. Why was it so attached to my face today? "I'm sorry Lovegood,"
Her head tilted, causing her dirty blond curls to cascade down the side of her slightly unkempt uniform. Her face was eerily unreadable as she looked at me, then to the broken quill, then back to me. It was unnerving how a single glance from those ridiculously large eyes could leave you with the impression that she had read the situation and now understood you perfectly. She shook her head ever so slightly, sending ripples through her hair.
"Oh Draco," She murmured, "You really must change your mindset. The wrackspurts are going to be the death of you if you don't." and she gently plucked the broken brown feather from my hand, stepped gracefully around me, and floated away down the hall.
That was another thing about Lovegood. She always seemed to float. I couldn't remember ever seeing her actually walk anywhere. It was as if walking were too uninteresting a mode of transportation for her to bother with. My only workable theory (ha!) was that her invisible little wrackspurts carried her.
She would tell me that's not what wrackspurts do.
I would roll my eyes, snidely pointing out that if she ever wanted to be taken seriously, she would eventually have to stop believing in fairy tales. Or, at the very least, stop proclaiming that belief to all the world.
She would give me a crooked smile before pointing out that if I announced to Hermione Granger's primary schoolmates that I could teach them to bottle fame, brew glory, or put a stopper in death, they would think I believed in fairy tales.
Lovegood talking to me about fairy tales would in no way trigger anything unpleasant in my memory.
I was beginning to realize that we had conversations like that a bit too often if I could predict them almost to the word. I also realized that I was still down on one knee in the Charms classroom, perched in front of my bookbag as if I was about to ask it for a lifelong commitment. And not only that, but I had just apologized to Lovegood. Over something stupid. And not only been sincere but sounded it. Lovely, Malfoy. Just lovely. I hastily got to my feet, taking a moment to put myself to rights before sauntering out of the classroom. I did my best to appear as if I wasn't trying to appear like anything - a skill I had all but perfected over the past seven years.
I didn't pay attention to where I was walking. I just walked. I mechanically nodded to a few people, I smirked at a few more. I even managed a sneer at Longbottom when he passed me in front of the Great Hall, apparently engrossed in trying to fit an entire sandwich into his mouth in one go. My feet were on autopilot, taking me past newly rebuilt walls and stones that had been scrubbed clean of blood. It made me sick to remember, to be inside that building, and before I fully processed my destination, I was outside of the castle and at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The trees began to thicken, and the soothing silence that always reigned here descended on me. I didn't stop walking until the trees abruptly ended, opening into a wide clearing.
I finally allowed my steps to slow, the crunch of leaves under my feet quieting as I entered the clearing. As soon as I was inside the ring of trees, I quietly sank to the ground, my back pressed against one of them, my legs sprawled out in front of me. Though the night's frost had long since melted, its lingering cold seeped through my clothes, chilling me. The bark of the tree was so rough I could feel it against my back even through my robes. I sighed, closing my eyes as familiar snuffling sounds reached me from the other side of the clearing. I took a deep breath in and slowly released it. This was normal. This was peaceful.
On the other side of the clearing, half a dozen large black forms lazed in varying stages of waking and sleeping. The Thestrals didn't even react to my presence, and that in and of itself made me smile. They had accepted me as a part of life. A young one nipped at its mother's flank, pestering her until she snapped at him, sending him skittering away to the other side of the clearing. Two other younglings lay wrapped around each other, sunlight shining off their leathery wings as they slept. An elderly one wobbled over to a tree and began slowly eating the bark, a loud thwap echoing every time her teeth pulled a strip free from the trunk. It was ironic that watching them felt so peaceful, considering the fact that I could see them at all.
I had found this clearing quite by accident at the beginning of term. Due to my youth and the threats against my mother, the Wizegamot had found me innocent of all crimes. They had let me off with five years probation and the stipulation that I return to Hogwarts repeat my seventh year. This wasn't uncommon with my classmates - even those who had been at the school last year hadn't had much time to learn anything. My parents hadn't been so lucky - Mother was under house arrest for the next two years, and father was in Azkaban. No release date had been named, and due to the nature of his crimes, the level of his support for the Dark Lord, I'd thought it unlikely one ever would. As glad as I was to have an excuse to leave the Manor, I would almost have preferred to share in Mother's exile there. It was common knowledge that I had been a Death Eater, despite the Wizengamot's ruling, and I knew no one would forget it.
I don't know why I wasn't surprised when I saw the Thestrals pulling the carriages earlier this month. I had looked at Theo and Blaise, and they were staring at the ghostly things too - we could all see them. Either the mode of transportation had changed after all these years, or we had. I was inclined to believe the latter more likely. It had been nearly a week later when I had been wandering the edge of the woods early one morning and stumbled upon the clearing. Again, I wasn't exactly surprised to see a herd of devilish horses. I was, however, a bit surprised to see Lovegood petting one. The witch had been attempting to befriend me since the first evening in the Great Hall, and everyone knew her penchant for strange creatures, so I drew closer. My instinct was to leave before she noticed me, but if anyone could tell me something about the creatures that I couldn't find in any book, it would be Lovegood.
"They're called Thestrals," she said without so much as looking over her shoulder. I've since realized that it is almost impossible to sneak up on her. Her dirty blonde hair was somehow tied in a series of knots that held it up off her neck, and her wand was stuck through the middle of the mess. Stupid of her. If I had a mind to attack her, I could have her disarmed before she even got it out of the tangle it was lodged in. Then again, she had heard me coming, so maybe she was more self-aware than she seemed.
"Thestrals." I shoved my hands deep in my pockets, leaning back against a tree. That was all. One word, the question implied rather than spoken.
She chuckled lightly as the ghostly creature in front of her reached forward and nipped at her collar bone. "They've always been here, Draco Malfoy," her amusement at the…Thestral still evident in her voice. Well then, she knew my voice well enough to recognize me by it. "You just couldn't see them before." the amusement was gone now. Her voice sounded almost…sad. It was the most emotion I'd yet witnessed from her.
I cocked my head to the side, brushing my hair back from where it blocked my vision. "And why is that, Lovegood?" I could hear the skepticism in my voice, but honestly. She'd just told me these things had been invisible for the past seven years? Then again, hadn't the half-giant been babbling about some invisible thing a few years back?
Lovegood dropped to her knees, welcoming a baby demon horse as it wobbled over to her on shaky legs before crashing face-first into her lap. She cooed at it for a second, lifting its head and staring into its eyes as she replied. "Thestrals can only be seen by those who have first seen death." She said it matter-of-factly, not like it pained her or even warranted much thought. She might as well have told me that dragons breathe fire for all the difficulty it seemed to cause her.
For a few moments, the only sounds were the quiet huffs of the Thestrals as they went peacefully about their morning. Those who had seen death. No wonder they looked so horribly ominous. For a moment I was in the Astronomy Tower, watching the ripple of Dumbledore's robes as he fell, lifeless, to the ground so far below. Then the crackle of flames reached my ears and the smell of smoke made my nose curl. Crabbe. Fiendfyre. The sick thwack of Nagini's impact against Professor Burbage's skin. The blood, the smell of it…
I hadn't ridden in the carriages at the beginning of the year last term, instead flooing directly into Severus' office. Being godson to the headmaster came with certain privileges. It also meant that I hadn't seen the Thestrals last year, even though I had seen death.
I ripped myself out of my head, refusing to relive those nightmares awake as well as asleep. I focused instead on the small girl in front of me, as if she wasn't one of my nightmares herself. No doubt, some of the death she had witnessed had been in my own home. House. The Manor had ceased to be my home the instant Snake Eyes had stepped foot in it. But still, it had been under the same roof I slept under.
"Why?" my voice was tired, and it felt like I'd asked her that a hundred times since September first. I knew she would know what I was asking - why did she talk to me? Why was she civil, let alone the odd friendliness that seemed to emanate from her? She had been held prisoner in my home - I knew she had been tortured. And I had never once made any attempt to help, not even to slip them extra food, or a blanket through the door.
I expected her to do what she always did when I asked - smile and change the subject, or say something freakish and cryptic and completely indecipherable. But this time she spun in place on the ground, crossing her legs and hauling the baby Thestral into her lap as she turned to face me. She was in the exact center of the clearing. The Thestrals behind her looked like sentries as she stared at me. The smudge of dirt on her cheek somehow managed to make her eyes appear even larger as she peered up at me where I still stood with my shoulder against the tree.
"All of us did things we regret, Draco Malfoy," she said quietly, thoughtfully as she traces the outline of the thing's wing with a fingertip, "Or failed to do things that we wish we had. While it is true that we are defined by our choices in life, we were children, and we were terrified."
I bristled, but she went on before I could retort.
"I don't believe that doing the things you were raised to see as right makes you a bad person. Especially when you acted against them in the end. I believe that is a kind of courage and strength that few people possess, and even fewer recognize. So I talk to you." She shrugged like it was the most logical thing in the world.
Of course it was some bloody idealistic Gryffindor-type shite. No, actually no Gryffindor would see past the things I did. They all had their head permanently lodged too far up their asses to think anything of the sort. Strength? Sure. The girl was bloody mad. I huffed, turned on my heel, and walked briskly back towards the castle, away from her and her ideals. I was going to research Thestrals. For all I knew, she'd made the bizarre story up. What kind of creature was invisible until you had watched somebody die?
And why was she so bloody insistent on talking to me?
There you have it! I'm finishing up chapter 2 this afternoon, so it should be up either tonight or tomorrow. It tackles Luna's pov, so stay tuned! xoxo
