A/N : I really wanted to write the Summer of '94 as an episodic chapter, let's say, to showcase specific interactions between Draco and his father, some of their dynamics, and also to set up a few things that will come to play later in the story. I hope you'll like it!
The two instances where you see this symbol in the text : x appear because on AO3, I was able to put links to two piano pieces that are the melodies described in the text but you can't put links in the text on FF, so if you want to listen to them, you can find them on youtube if you type "Kingdom Hearts Missing You" and "Kingdom Hearts Dearly Departed" (in that order in the text).
Draco and Hermione truly got what "time flies" meant when they were heading to the carriages for the ride home a few days later. Their time together had gone by so fast… At least, they had the opportunity to talk about many things and to get away from their awkwardness. It felt more natural to kiss and to hold hands.
As they rode to Hogsmeade, Hermione kept her eyes on the landscape, a smile on her face when she remembered how Draco naturally slipped an arm around her earlier that morning. She was leaving Hogwarts behind with the promise of letters throughout the entire summer. It was a comforting thought for the both of them, actually. Hermione was afraid that by being separated for too long, Draco might get back to his old ways of treating her, that he was going to think he had made a mistake by going out with her. He was about to be surrounded by a ravaging mentality and she couldn't help being anxious. As for Draco, without a single clue as to why the thought even crossed his mind, he was afraid that Hermione might forget about him during the holidays. It was silly. Still, the fear was stuck in his head.
After leaving the carriage, Draco did everything he could to be close to her one last time before getting in the Hogwarts Express. He managed to get past other students and with his friends, he walked right behind the Gryffindor trio, and the Weasley girl. He stared at the redhead for a moment and twitched his lips. She knew about them, when no one else did, not even Pansy. Why was it thrilling?
Draco didn't know if he wanted to mock Potter just to make them look back. He was still very uncomfortable about what had happened and he was spending the time he wasn't with Hermione avoiding Ron and Harry. Even Pansy hadn't said a word to the boys since their meeting in the hospital. So, he was glad when Goyle was the one who mocked them loudly, though he was frustrated to hear him mention Hermione. However, when Harry turned and met his eyes, he lips turned into a smug little smirk. He had to keep a semblance of cruelty to his behavior, otherwise all their efforts to see each other in secret would be pointless.
Besides, while Draco was very well aware that Harry had done everything he could to help him back in the Forbidden Forest, he only felt grateful to Hermione. He didn't know why he couldn't manage to acknowledge his help, or that things might have changed since the incident, while he would have never been able to pretend otherwise with Hermione. He just couldn't. The thought threw him back to what he told his girlfriend, they weren't wired the same. He had to repress a smile and she quickly turned back around to watch where she walked. Just before Ginny did the same, she also met Draco's gaze. They stared for just a second, both of them having a playful gleam to their eyes.
Hermione was careful to climb the train after her friends and Draco before his. Their hands briefly met, hidden between their bodies, for the softest caress. They truly parted ways once the Gryffindors had found a compartment. Now, they were about to spend two months apart. What a great start to a relationship.
After the very long journey back, Draco got off the train, accompanied by Pansy. They were laughing together as they got down on the platform and when Draco looked through the crowd, he immediately noticed his parents. Pansy had spotted hers and the teenagers hugged to say goodbye. Draco hurried and when he reached Lucius and Narcissa, his mother hugged him, as always. There was a kiss on the top of his head in the midst of the tight embrace and when she finally let go, Draco gave his father a glance. The man placed a hand on the back of his son's neck and offered him a smile. Though warm, Draco would have preferred a hug.
"This was waiting for you at home, it arrived yesterday," Narcissa said and Draco frowned at the envelope in her hands. He smiled only when he recognized the handwriting on it. It was only his name and Draco wondered how he had managed to instantly recognize Lupin's cursive. He didn't know he got used to so many things about him during the year.
Draco couldn't hide his joy when he took the envelope before he noticed that his father's eyes were drifting behind him. He looked over his shoulder only to see Harry, Ron and Hermione getting off the train. As if she knew, Hermione turned her head in his direction. She didn't smile, noticing that his parents were right behind, but it was enough for the fire in Draco's chest to get going again.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Let's go home," Lucius said.
As they left, Lucius' hand went from his shoulder to his back. It was his own way of showing affection in the middle of a packed train station.
"We don't have much time, honey," Narcissa said, putting her gloves back on, "Severus is coming for dinner so I'd like you to get ready when we get back."
Right. Draco had forgotten that Snape would always come for dinner on the last day of school. It was a way of thanking him for the help he was providing the family, even if Snape kept telling them they didn't have to. If they were still having these dinners, it was more out of habit by now. Draco would probably see him around the Manor many times during the holidays. To meet with his father or just because, oddly enough, his mother always fancied having tea with him. As usual, Draco would have to be present every time. If everything was fine between them, Draco wouldn't have minded so much but lately, he really didn't want to spend any time with his godfather.
When he got back, he did just as his mother had asked; he went up to his bedroom to get ready. He was happy to be home, though Hogwarts was following him there that year. Not just because of Hermione, or even Lupin's letter.
He approached his full-length mirror and started unbuttoning his shirt. He let it slide down his arms, uncovering the bands that were on his body. Though the wounds had been cleaned and sealed, Madam Pomfrey had asked him to keep the bands on for a few days to avoid any direct contact that could irritate or hurt him in any way. Earlier, when his father had touched his shoulder and his back, Draco hadn't felt anything and he knew that he was ready to take them off for good. So, he did. Slowly. He approached the glass and looked at his shoulder, at the bite marks, then at the scratches on his front. He wasn't able to look for too long but he was reassured. Madam Pomfrey was right, it didn't look that bad, at least not as bad as Draco would have imagined.
Once he was dressed, he read Lupin's letter. It was short and Lupin was only asking about how Draco was doing. The boy immediately wrote back a few lines of the same nature. How was Lupin doing? Where was he staying? Would he be alright? Draco barely talked about himself, surprisingly enough. He mentioned that he was doing better, that his wounds had healed really well and quickly, and that it wasn't hurting anymore. He also wrote, his letters rendered small with his shame, that Lupin was right: it wasn't the end of the world if he had to leave. He wrote that his reaction was childish, and that he lost it without wanting it. He shouldn't have cried about all of that. Why he was justifying himself, he didn't know, but he felt better once he had done so. It had been his anger, his sadness and his lack of sleep that had been so nerve-racking. He was fine now. Especially now that he had the confirmation they would keep in touch.
He only wrote "Lupin" on the envelope, and he gave it to his owl. When the animal would be back, he'd immediately write to Hermione. Since she didn't have an owl outside Hogwarts, she couldn't directly write to him, so he had to begin the exchange. He just hoped Lupin wasn't too far away.
When he got downstairs, Snape was already there, talking with his parents. The Potion Master was sitting on an armchair, Lucius was seated on the other one, and Draco joined his mother on the large sofa. He picked up his cup of tea, not even glancing at Snape. Lucius had his eyes on his boy. He didn't say anything about his silence but kept it in mind.
It wasn't the first time Draco was mad at Severus, even if the last time it happened, he had been a little boy. Still, Lucius could tell. Draco wasn't joining in the conversation, he wasn't looking at Severus. Lucius knew that if he did, his feelings would be uncovered. Draco could be too expressive sometimes, most often when matters were too close to his heart. The boy had been in a really good mood when he got off the train, and Lucius was convinced he was doing better. He could remember how Draco was acting during the Easter holidays, and it just wasn't the same. While he hadn't talked about it directly with Draco, he thought that if his son had to complain about something, he would. Nothing had ever really stopped him before. But given his behavior with Severus, Lucius wasn't so sure anymore.
He also saw Draco's eye twitch when Narcissa mentioned his grades to Severus.
While Draco passed every class and did better than last year, and better than a lot of the other students, his grades weren't exactly living up to the standards of the family. His parents knew it wasn't about his skills as a wizard, but if he wasn't going to talk about what was on his mind, they might have hoped Severus would tell them more about what distracted him apart from his condition.
Finally, Draco glanced at his father and looked surprised to discover that he was already staring at him. Draco was reassured to see that he didn't seem mad about his grades, and he even detected an ounce of curiosity in his eyes.
"He has been distracted this year, that much is true," Severus said coolly before he sipped his tea. "But I am sure things will be different next year."
And there it was, Draco had to look away, he had to grimace, he just couldn't contain it. Something did happen at school that year. Lucius pondered. Was that why he had brought up the matter of marriage to his mother during the holidays? Was it connected to the letter he had received? Why didn't he read it on their way home, though he couldn't stop looking at it? Another interrogation came back to Lucius' mind but he set the matter aside. He would try to have a conversation with his son. But for now…
"It will be if and only if he doesn't get too distracted by the tournament," Lucius said, placing his cup down on the coffee table in front of him. Draco looked back at him suddenly, showing a true interest in the conversation for the first time.
"What tournament?"
Lucius' lips curled up. He knew this would change his mood instantly.
"Why, the Triwizard Tournament, of course," he said in an offhand manner. Draco almost rose to his feet, brows shooting up to his airline.
"Are you serious?" He asked loudly. He turned to his mother, then his father again. The man nodded, nonchalantly crossing his legs.
"Do I look like I am joking, Draco?"
Still, Draco laughed. The next year was definitely going to be better than this one.
"Obviously, you will abstain yourself from talking about it to your friends before next term," Lucius continued.
"Of course, you can count on me," Draco said, holding his cup with both hands so he wouldn't drop it.
"Even to Pansy," Lucius added, this time giving Draco a strict look.
"What?" Draco exclaimed, loud again, before he bit his lips. "I mean, of course…" he said quickly, eyes shifty.
Lucius knew his son, no rule about his friends applied to Pansy, apparently, so he had to make it clear.
"That's not everything," Narcissa said, and Draco's face was now getting too red for comfort — in his excitement, he probably wasn't breathing anymore.
"Really, 'Cissa, right now?" Lucius asked. "He's already too excited, look at him. He won't sleep tonight and you'll have to deal with his mood all—"
"Hey! I'm not a kid anymore! I can manage!" Draco childishly argued.
Lucius theatrically sighed and got his wand out of his cane. He barely waved it and after a few seconds, something landed in his open hand. He handed it to Draco across the small table. The boy snatched the tickets from his hand and almost spilled his tea in the process.
"You got places for the World Cup?"
"You sound surprised," Lucius said with a smile. They were really great places too. "Actually, we've been invited by Fudge himself," he added. The look of awe on Draco's face was enough to flatter Lucius' ego for the rest of the week.
.
"So, you, Severus. What has been going on?"
Draco barely turned to his father, who was standing at the door. The teenager was about to get into bed, already in his pajamas, and panic was now twisting his stomach. Not because of what Lucius wanted to talk about, but because of his t-shirt. Unless Madam Pomfrey had to give Draco a set of pajamas, he would usually wear his own. And his own were just pants and a shirt.
After the bite, because of his nightmares, Draco was often waking up soaked, which only increased his fear of actually being covered in his parents' blood. Always in a rush to undo his pajama shirt and send it flying across the room, he could never open the buttons easily because of his anxiety. At some point, he just started sleeping in t-shirts. But now, the problem that came with them was how exposed he felt, and actually was. He didn't want to face his father, to let him see his arms, the bite marks, the scratches. He turned back to his bedside table, where he placed the World Cup ticket on the book he was currently reading. He kept busy, properly replacing anything his hands could find so they'd be aligned on his bedside table, just so he wouldn't have to turn around.
"What do you mean?" He asked innocently.
"I mean you being mad at him," Lucius said, not about to beat around the bush. He entered the room, approached the large bed and he sat on it.
He considered his son for a moment.
"The last time you were mad at him, you were maybe… seven?" Lucius recounted, the memory clear in his mind. A smile slowly grew on his face. "Yes… It was almost your birthday, actually. You kept pulling his robes."
Draco finally turned his head so he could get a glimpse of his father. He rarely sounded amused.
"Yeah, I remember," he mumbled, annoyed. He could still hear Severus telling him to stop for the umpteenth — and last — time. Draco had been so scared of his godfather that he didn't dare approach him for the rest of the evening. And he was so mad at the humiliation, because everyone had laughed, that he kept kicking the carpet and pouting in a corner. He'd glare at Severus whenever he was mentioned, he was very obvious. And he still was.
"I know when you're mad at him," Lucius continued.
"So what?" Draco asked sharply. "Am I not allowed to be mad at people?"
"I'm just wondering why you are," Lucius said without missing a beat.
Draco kept staring at his hands for a moment, not moving anything on the furniture anymore. The fact that his father wasn't even pointing out his tone was all the more frustrating. He swallowed his spit, breathed deeply, and he finally turned around.
He didn't miss it. Lucius watched him turn and though he was staring at his face at first, he had noticed something. After just a couple of seconds, his eyes were going down Draco's arms.
For Lucius, it was like getting punched right in the stomach, because it felt like his organs dropped, and a burning sensation took over his lungs and neck.
Then, he looked down, and it was even worse for Draco. He would have rather his father straight up yelled about it, asked who'd done it, threatened anyone that came to mind. Instead, there was this avoidance on his part, at least that was how Draco could only interpret it, and he felt his heart sink.
Lucius had to learn how to be fine with Draco's condition. In a way, it had been easy to live with it, because it was Draco. He was his son, Lucius loved him, he couldn't imagine living without him. It was the same for his wife, they didn't even have to think about it. But then there was everything else. The rest of the family, the habits, the food, Draco's exhaustion, his scar, his status, his heritage. Their beliefs. Their names, their core. Who they were.
It was difficult, on a daily basis. But what kept bringing Lucius back to the fact that he made the right decision by keeping Draco in was the way he felt whenever he knew his flesh and blood was hurting. He couldn't be wrong if he loved him so much, even if it defied everything he believed in.
When Narcissa gave birth to Draco, Lucius cried. When he held Draco for the first time in his arms, already so careful, so afraid of hurting this tiny little baby, he had promised he would make this little guy the happiest boy on earth. When Draco had gripped his finger for the first time, his heart exploded in his chest and when Draco smiled at him for the first time, Lucius hadn't been able to tell if he would ever be able to find something more reassuring. And now, knowing that he had ruined Draco's life…
While he was of the belief that a little anguish made for a strong character, he was too overwhelmed to think this kind of pain was healthy. The weight of his guilt would keep him awake once again that night. With time he felt it became hard to blame anyone else but himself for what was going on with his son, and he was afraid Draco would one day turn his back on him because of what he did to him. Now that Draco's body was bearing even more marks of his mistakes, he feared the day Draco would was away was closer than he ever thought it could be. This wasn't helped by his son's recent behavior and questions. It didn't matter if Draco had told him it would be fine from all of his ten years of age, because Lucius knew that he wasn't fine at the time, and still wasn't now. And because his wife and his son were above everything else, he couldn't just sit back and watch.
Severus was just a good excuse to try and talk about it.
Draco sat silently next to his father. The teenager clasped his hands on his lap and stared down at his fingers.
"What happened?" Lucius asked quietly, and Draco couldn't tell if he was talking about Severus anymore.
Draco's breathing was faster, deeper, and Lucius could feel his son's anxiety radiating through his body. He looked up at the ceiling, giving him another moment, before he continued.
"I know a bunch of things happened, actually. Your mother told me you've been talking to her about marriage, which… is a first."
"She told you?" Draco asked quickly, unable to help it, and he met his father's eyes. Lucius smiled at the disgruntled expression on his face.
"Was it supposed to be a secret?"
"I don't know, was the fact that she led you around by the nose supposed to be a secret?"
Lucius had to pause, then he stared at the wall in front of them.
"Well… she didn't tell me that came up…" he mumbled, not denying it.
Draco chuckled, and it was infectious. But the laughter and smiles faded soon after.
"She brought it up, by the way," Draco said after another moment. Lucius looked back at him. "Marriage. Well… She brought up Pansy, which in turn led to a train-wreck of a conversation."
"Why is that?"
"Because we're going in circles," Draco sighed. But he didn't sound defeated, he sounded resigned already. "We've always been. I'm just wondering when it'll stop. When we'll decide to stop, or when we won't be able to continue?
Lucius fell silent again. He nodded slowly and got back to his contemplation of the wallpaper.
"She said you've been talking about leaving, one day, maybe," Lucius said quietly.
Draco glanced at his father, who was leading by example again ; he, too, found more comfort in looking at the wall.
"For you," he almost whispered.
"Do you think of it as a favor?" Lucius asked and there was the smallest hint of strictness in his tone. Draco knew he wasn't mad about the hypothesis, but about what Draco might answer. So, the boy shrugged.
"I don't think it would be a disservice."
Lucius pursed his lips to stop his feelings from coming out. He couldn't speak before thinking. But his fingers tightened on his thigh.
"Have we done, or said something… that made you think we'd be better off without you?"
Draco was surprised by the question, and by his reaction to it. Why did he feel suddenly so angry? Why did his stomach just perform the biggest flip? He stared at Lucius for a few seconds, hoping his newly found frustration wasn't showing. Until then, he never really got the full extent of his father's blindness. If he ever thought his father blind. He only ever believed him right. He had to look away and release the shaky breath he was holding in anger.
So that was it. Every malevolent word his parents had ever spoken about someone the deemed unworthy, every single opinion about these people, everything he had always been taught about them ; they didn't apply to him. Not in his parent's mind. Not through their "I love you", not through their affectionate gestures. Yet, deeply, ever since the bit, every single word had always got to him.
They were going in circles, and the key players apparently never got dizzy.
As much as he wanted to tell his father about his feelings, about every single thought that was suddenly crossing his mind, every memory of being hurt by their words, ever question about his place in this society, he couldn't. His heart was beating so furiously in his chest that his fingers were shaking and his legs were numb. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He wasn't brave enough. He didn't want to hurt them, though they hurt him. They never realized, and the prospect of his accountability in his parents' pain was eating at him, even if he hadn't said a word against them just yet, and probably never would. Just thinking about it…
"I can't explain it," he lied, very quietly, because he didn't want to hear himself. He had always been a very lousy liar with his parents, but it came out quite naturally, this time. "It doesn't matter… You guys know we shouldn't talk so seriously after a full moon…" he continued, still staring at nothing but feeling his father's gaze piercing his skull. "My mind's never…"
"Even with the option?" Lucius asked, softly gripping at his son's left forearm. Draco almost tried to escape the contact, but he didn't. He couldn't go anywhere anyway.
He simply tried to figure out if his father was truly asking if his mind was clear after the cycle, or if he was trying to ask how the potion affected him during the change. He looked down at his arm, at the bite marks on his skin, before he met his father's gaze. This time, he wouldn't look away. Lucius even detected defiance in his eyes, but he didn't retaliate. He didn't want to push his son around, just to communicate.
"You didn't do that to yourself," Lucius continued. And of course, he knew. He knew because Draco had never hurt himself during a cycle. Though the pain of the shift was unbearable for a child, though the change in instincts and senses made it impossible to adapt as soon as he turned for the first time, the potion always kept him somewhat level-headed and too tired. Lucius wasn't about to believe that puberty had anything to do with a change in behavior in his other form, no matter how much more angry Draco might get. Again, not with the potion.
"I already told you, it doesn't matter," Draco said.
"Is there another one at Hogwarts?" Lucius asked and Draco looked down, confirming the suspicion. "Did they leave you together?"
Though Lucius was still rather calm, Draco knew what the cold note in his tone meant: Dumbledore making them stay together during the moons was unacceptable.
"That's not what happened."
"What happened, then? You need to tell me."
"So you can do what, exactly?" Draco asked, defiant again.
"So we can find solutions," Lucius said through his teeth, unimpressed by Draco's tone.
And what are your solutions going to be?" Draco asked quietly, put back in his place but not about to give away anything else about the events. He broke eye contact when he stood up, creating some space between them. He needed to breathe.
He turned back to his father and crossed his arms.
"You don't have to worry. The betrayer you call a friend already took care of it, and the secret's safe. Like he told you, everything will be different next year."
"Is that why you're mad at him? Were you fine with…" Lucius tried to find the words, but he ended up gesturing towards Draco's body to indicate the other injuries he was sure his son was hiding. "With whatever this is?"
"Why don't you ask him to tell you everything? I'm sure you'll be real happy with what he's done."
Put off by this behavior, Lucius stood up too and stared his son down.
"It will have to come from you. Whenever you're ready."
"Why?" Draco asked, annoyed by his father's patience.
"Because I said so," Lucius replied, this time strictly enough that Draco didn't dare argue.
He was so annoyed. His father now knew way too much, way more than Draco ever intended him to. But not everything. And while his father might share what they told each other to his wife, Draco was almost certain the matter wouldn't be brought up by either of them, at least for a while. As always, they'd avoid the implications if they could. If his father truly wanted him to talk about it, he'd indeed let him come back to him.
Lucius approached his son and looked down at him. He placed his hand on the back of his neck so that Draco would look up, but the boy didn't really. While he lifted his head, Draco used the cover of his hair to avoid Lucius' gaze.
"Severus knows and only wants what's best for you," he said. Draco shrugged. "And whatever happened, and no matter the way you feel, you'll still have to deal with him this summer. And at school next year. And the year after. And—"
"I get it," Draco said coolly. He knew what his father was implying. He would have to confront the issue one day or another. But Draco knew what would happen if he did. He'd fold. Like always. Like the flimsiest piece of paper. They all had him in their pockets, didn't they? He wondered what his father would say if he knew that Severus wanted to get rid of Lupin so badly that he didn't mind if the students had figured out Draco's nature at the same time. He wondered what his father would say if he knew Severus had sent him in the Forest, and then didn't come to get him. He wondered what he'd say knowing that as a result, Harry Potter had to help him and knew about his secret. Was that wanting what was best for him?
He didn't speak a word of it, but his lips twitched, and he stared right back at his father when he spoke again.
"He's selfish."
Lucius stared, lips thin. Draco felt his hand leave the back of his neck and he expected his father to step away from him. Instead, Lucius' fingers found their way into his hair and Draco was too surprised by the gentleness of the contact to do anything.
"Aren't we all?" Lucius said quietly.
Draco held his gaze, inflexible in the face of this revolting truth.
"Are you boys alright?"
Lucius saw the shift at the sound of Narcissa's voice, he saw the fear gain his son and he smoothly stepped behind the boy, his fingers leaving his hair so that both his hands could slide down Draco's arms. The way he got them behind Draco's back to hold them there seemed almost completely natural and he offered his wife a soft smile as she approached, beautiful as ever. Draco's anxiety left through a long breath. His father got it; it would cause his mother too much heartache.
Lucius also realized that Draco didn't want either of them to see his scars — as soon as the boy turned to him earlier, it hit him. If keeping his secret could bring him some relief, then he'd hand him the feeling on a plate.
"Of course we are," Lucius let out calmly. Narcissa smiled at the men of her life and cupped her son's head.
"I wanted to say good night," she said and Draco gave back a genuine smile when she leaned to kiss his forehead.
"Good night," Draco said quietly, his arms released by his father. He kept them behind his back and watched as the couple walked away.
.
July 8th, 1994 : New Moon
.
[ x ]
"Could you perhaps play something more depressing?" Lucius asked as he entered the large family room situated next to Draco's bedroom.
Surprised by this intrusion, Draco stopped on a wrong key. He usually was the only one using this room and wasn't expecting anyone to come around at this time. His father must have heard him play from the library.
"I can always manage," Draco joked. The look his father gave him betrayed his amusement, but not enough to hear him laugh. "What, is this what you want to hear?" Draco asked, the back of his fingers running along the keys before he started playing an upbeat little tune.
It took only a moment for Lucius to recognize the children's song.
"Where did you even learn how to play this?" Lucius asked, too obviously annoyed.
"Why, mother taught me of course."
Lucius sighed dramatically. He knew she did it on purpose, though it usually wasn't a laughing matter to either of them. The Malfoys, every generation confounded, never had as much power as the heights Lucius reached fourteen years ago. Teaching their son a song celebrating Harry Potter was, he thought, in poor taste. He would have to get back at her.
Draco hummed along though he couldn't remember the lyrics. He hadn't heard the song in years now.
"Alright, alright, enough of it," Lucius grumbled, but he still sat next to his son.
Amused, though he'd never push it further, Draco stopped his antics. He soon got back to the song he was playing before and Lucius listened silently as Draco neared the end of the song. They both let the final notes fade into the air before Lucius placed his fingers on the keys. Draco was once again taken aback. He couldn't remember hearing or seeing his father play in years — since before the bite, if he wasn't mistaken.
[ x ]
The sound seemed to echo something that came from deep within both of their souls and the atmosphere the music created sent shivers down Draco's spine. He said nothing of it. He said nothing of anything.
He had been right, his father had left him alone, he never tried to get anything from him again. Was he getting impatient, that he was creating such another special moment just for the two of them to know about?
"Have you got something on your mind?" Lucius asked.
He did want to know something. Draco had to refrain a heavy sigh. What would it be about? Severus again? His injuries? He prayed that his father wouldn't ask him about Lupin.
"As in?" Draco asked. Couldn't his father be straightforward?
"You're here, but you're not really. Is this because of what we talked about? Or is there something else you're not telling me?"
Draco frowned. So it was all about something else.
He stared at his father, probably for too long, but he couldn't help it. He had to try and sound out the man — as impossible as it was. Lucius knew something. But surely…
Draco couldn't use magic to hide his letters but he had learned how to be innovative. Unless his father had actively looked for Draco's personal correspondence, there was no way he had found Hermione's letters.
The teenager still felt the need to confess something. There was no way to keep it all inside when his father looked at him this way. Thoughts were turning fast in his head and the tornado they formed knocked over any kind of reasoning that could still take shape inside his brain. What could he give away that wouldn't be that bad? What could his father be talking about?
His stomach suddenly dropped. He knew about the Boggart. But which one? The one that scared him, or the one he laughed at?
"Did Severus talk to you about it?" He asked, swallowing his syllables. Did his godfather talk to his father about the school year? Did he tell him every detail? Draco didn't know if his guess was the right one but what else could it be?
This time, Lucius couldn't hide his surprise as he stopped playing quite abruptly. What was that in his eyes? Hurt?
"Did you tell him and not me?"
"I didn't have to tell him anything," Draco said with a grimace, though surprised by this development.
Lucius' eyes widened and Draco quickly looked away. His father tried to stay composed, looking down at the piano keys. He slowly rubbed the dark wood of the large instrument as if to remove some sort of stain and he asked his next question.
"Did he…" He cleared his throat. "Did he see something? How did he find out?"
"No, he didn't, but…" He sighed a sigh of burden, and his father of relief. "Geez, I'm sorry, alright?"
"No, don't apologize," Lucius quickly said. "These things happen, I mean— anyone could— no, maybe not anyone… Look, what I mean to say is…" Lucius was trying to find his words in the air around them, hands up in the middle of a gesture, but it seemed like the man was now frozen. Draco had never seen him lack eloquence in such a way before.
"I just need you to know that I didn't do it to humiliate you," Draco confessed. It was freeing, in a way, talking about it.
"Of course you didn't, and at no point would I ever feel this way," Lucius said quietly, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. There was a pause. Draco couldn't decipher this look either. Was that compassion in his father's eyes? There really was no way to tell. "What were you saying? Keep going, tell me about it," Lucius said, regretting having interrupted his son earlier.
Draco shook his head and tried to dismiss the demand with a wave of his hand.
"I'm pretty sure the whole school was talking about it, that's what I meant… I didn't need to tell Severus… The whole class saw. It was enough."
"The whole class?" Lucius exclaimed. "How could that possibly have happened in front of the whole class?"
Weirded out, Draco moved so his father would finally remove his hand from his shoulder.
"What, do you think I take private lessons or something?"
Lucius took a very deep breath, sighed just as deeply, and finally let go of one of his thoughts.
"Look, I'm confused. Help me out, would you?"
"Well so am I," Draco blurred out, letting his annoyance show. "Look, it doesn't matter, I didn't even want to talk about it. Could we just—"
"But it's important," Lucius said. "Again, you should feel free to talk to us about this kind of thing. If you don't… look where it can lead."
"It's not like you could have helped it! I couldn't!" Draco hit his chest with his open palm as he stood up. "It's in me, it's been for so long now, there's nothing anyone can do about it !"
Irritated to his core, Draco stormed out of the room, almost crashing into his mother as he did so. He still mumbled an apology to her but didn't stop. Narcissa watched as he slammed his bedroom door behind him.
"What's going on with him?" She asked Lucius, rather alarmed.
"I don't know," Lucius said quickly, standing up too. He went to leave as well, avoiding his wife's gaze. "And don't look at me like that, I didn't cause this. What do you want from me?"
.
July 23rd; 1994 : The Morning After the Full Moon
.
Draco forced his heavy eyelids to open. His vision was blurry but he did distinguish two things. The first one was the light coming in the cellar. The second was a dark, large mass he could discern through the cloud of his exhaustion. He opened his eyes again. There definitely was some silver blonde hair not far from him. His eyelids fell down again and he breathed deeply, head sinking into his pillow. It was so fresh, as if he found his way to it not too long ago. Or as if someone placed his head on it… or the pillow under his head… His father placed the pillow under his head…
Draco woke up again.
His father was there, lying on his back next to him, eyes open, fixed on the stars above their heads.
Draco was annoyed.
He grunted.
"I've already told you to stop doing that…" he mumbled in what he hoped was intelligible speech.
His parents had to stop coming in there. They just had to.
He moved his legs and realized that his blanket was covering his body. It had its perks. It always got more comfortable and warmer when they were around.
He yawned and when he felt safe enough to fall asleep again, his father's warm fingers found his hand.
He kept his eyes closed, too tired to give some of the softness back, just conscious enough to feel a squeeze.
.
August 6th, 1994 : Summer Is Getting Long
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"Draco," Lucius grumbled when his son barged into the bathroom without knocking.
The man was in front of the mirror, still shirtless after his bath, shaving. Well, being shaved.
The sharp razor was moving smoothly against his skin, Lucius just had to tilt his head when needed while he read the newspaper that was floating in front of him.
As Draco walked past his father, he couldn't help but glance at his back. His long hair was tied in a ponytail and his was skin free of any coverage that would usually hide one of his many secrets. Afraid of being caught, he quickly looked at the mirror. To his relief, his father was too focused on the article he was reading to pay any attention.
"Father, do you know the dog that's been hanging around the grounds?"
"Not personally," Lucius muttered. Without any reaction from him, he guessed that Draco wasn't amused. "I am aware of it , yes" he said, detached. He knew what was coming, so he didn't bat an eye in his son's direction.
"Well, I was wondering, can't we adopt him?" Draco asked in the softest voice as if it would help his cause in any way.
"Why would we?"
Draco leaned against the large vanities, near the second sink, and he smiled. "Because mother told me to talk to you about it before I could even finish asking. You know what that means; it's all on you."
Lucius clicked his tongue. "You need to stop interpreting every "ask your father" as "yes, but ask your father too"."
"But isn't that what it means?"
Lucius finally glanced at Draco, then at his reflection in the mirror. "I hope not," he said. Otherwise, she was fine with way too many things Draco asked. Lucius liked to believe he sometimes was the sole authority on some of Draco's caprices. He didn't take her words as a yes, but as a "I don't want to say yes so I'll send you to the only person who can say no to you".
But refusing something to Draco was pretty much the same uphill battle for Lucius.
"He's just a puppy, he's all alone…" Draco said as if it would sway his father in any way.
"It's fine."
For a second, Draco thought his father had accepted. Then, he understood that Lucius was only talking about the animal's condition.
"No he's not. I've been feeding him, and he's fine for now, but how is he going to do when I'll be away at school? And during winter? He's all alone out there."
"First of all, it'd fend for itself hadn't you fed it, so that will be on you,—"
"Oh come on!"
"—secondly, my point exactly, you'll be gone. Are you expecting me, or your mother ,"—the scoff was telling how greater of an offense that was—"to take care of it?"
"Why not?" Draco asked loudly.
And because Lucius didn't have an answer, he gave Draco a sigh.
"Besides, it's not a dog," he said, looking almost disgusted, "it's a beast. We would need a license."
"Then go get one!"
Lucius closed his eyes.
"It's going to take weeks, you'll have left already, and—"
"Not if you apply, you can get one like that," Draco argued with a snap of his fingers. "We got Top Boxed at the World Cup, you can do anything."
"Draco—"
"But I love him!" Draco exclaimed.
Lucius rolled his eyes. Dramatic much? Spoiled for sure. Before he could add anything, Draco crossed one of their invisible lines.
"I'm a beast and you didn't care about any license to keep me in!"
Lucius snapped his head so fast towards his son that the razor cut him.
"Ouch!"
He grabbed at his neck and pressed his thumb on the cut. When he looked down at it, there was blood on his skin. He, the razor and the newspaper turned to Draco. The boy smiled awkwardly.
"It's nothing, it's fine, you're fine," he dismissed it. "You'd see my—"
"So is this what it has come to?" Lucius interrupted him. "Is this a laughing matter to you now? Have we reached that point?"
Draco looked down at his feet, frustrated.
"It wouldn't kill us to lighten up a bit…" he mumbled.
"Speak up," Lucius ordered strictly. Either Draco was standing by his attitude, or he had no business bringing it up in the first place. "And tell me. I need to know, so I can prepare a whole plethora of jokes for dinner tonight. Do you think Yaxley will find it amusing?"
"I just want a dog," Draco still barely articulated, a small pout deforming his usually cold features.
"Let's say I get the license. What if it gets out of the grounds? What if it attacks a Muggle? You know how Crups act with them—" he stopped. Draco glanced and could swear his father was now considering it. But the man soon shook his head. "Can be traced back," he mumbled to himself. "But then again, without a license, we could get in trouble if Arthur Weasley starts raiding houses again…"
"What about we get him and you don't send him after Muggles while I'm away at school?" Draco proposed. "Then you won't have to worry about anything."
Lucius glanced at Draco in the mirror. After the longest seconds of this conversation, he sighed.
"I will think about it."
"Yes !" Draco exclaimed, rushing to his dad. But Lucius raised his hand to tell him to stop right there.
"I didn't agree," he clarified. "I said I would consider it."
"Yeah yeah yeah" Draco said, raising his hands in innocence as he walked to the door. It was basically the same thing.
"Keep your grades up," Lucius mumbled.
"If I keep doing that, they'll go through the roof and you'll have to find another argument," Draco teased. He avoided Lucius annoyed side-glance by leaving the room.
.
August 18th, 1994 : The World Cup
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"Draco! It's time to go!"
Even if Narcissa was far away, Draco heard her perfectly at this time of the month.
He got out of his reverie and looked over his shoulder at the Manor. There was a lick on his hand and he looked back down at the small creature at his feet. With a smile, he petted it one last time before he finally got up to hurry back inside.
He knew the animal was following him and he stopped. He turned around, chuckling when he noticed that the dog-like creature was jumping happily behind him, and he kept on walking backwards.
"You can't come inside mate, you know that. Mother won't be pleased, and I'm trying to stay in everyone's good graces. If you want to come with me, you'll have to do the same. Go," he said, shooing him away with his hand. The Crup seemed to understand and it stopped, raising its ears as if it was listening carefully. "Go on," Draco insisted. The animal didn't leave but it didn't follow Draco either. It stayed still, wagging its forked tail. Draco made sure he wasn't followed before he started to run towards the Manor again. He soon left the grass and his steps echoed on the large patio until he reached the opened French window. He walked in with the same little smile he had had on his face for most of August, which had been a change.
"Where were you? You know we have to go," Narcissa commented as she put her cloak on.
"I was just walking, breathing the fresh air. You know, taking in all the beauty of the world or whatever," Draco said, visibly amused by something. Narcissa observed as he also put on his cloak.
"Were you with that Crup again?"
Draco's smile widened and she had her answer.
"Has your father said anything about it?"
"He still hasn't confirmed anything, no, he's taking his sweet time considering it, don't you think?"
"Be grateful that he even does," Narcissa said. "I don't even know where it's going to stay?"
"In my room, obviously," Draco said.
"You don't know what taking care of it will entail, and you won't be there to look after it," Narcissa said, and Draco rolled his eyes. How many times would he have to listen to this argument?
He knew how she really felt. She was barely trying to hide her amusement, actually. She played this little game best, and she had played it long before him, after all. She couldn't exactly criticize that part of him. He'd get what he wanted, as always, and he'd be happy.
She never got his interest for magical creatures, and had never encouraged it much. She thought she could make a case for herself when he got attacked by that hippogriff last year—as if the werewolf attack didn't count for something already— but then again, she wouldn't try and change Draco's nature. He had chosen that class for a reason, and she hadn't been surprised. She could remember the gleam in his eyes when he came back from a walk outside with Pansy earlier that summer, and they were talking excitedly about this puppy they had found. They had hurried back outside with something for it to eat, and the boy had been in a good mood for the rest of the day, even after it left.
Then, the next few days, he would look outside the windows numerous times to try and see something moving out there. There had been an excited "Look! He came back!" the second time the little Crup stumbled through the hedge and inside the grounds. Since then, Draco had made sure the animal would feel welcome, feeding it each time so it'd come back. Since Draco had asked Lucius if they could adopt it, his father had purposefully ignored any sighting of the animal or any mention of it, grimacing on his own and hiding behind any newspaper or letter he could find. But Narcissa knew what was going on, Lucius was testing the waters. If Draco wasn't getting tired of it after a few weeks, he would probably bend. Again, he would say yes. They would always say yes.
Draco deserved the world.
"I only see the peacocks during the holidays and nobody's complaining about that," Draco argued as if this comparison had any validity whatsoever. Narcissa pinched the brink of her nose.
"Yes, well… they are your father's," she commented and Draco snorted. The Malfoys men and their animals were really something.
"He's supposed to have a family," Draco shrugged. Narcissa narrowed her eyes, reading each movement and every word for what they were.
"Is that how you tried to convince your father?" She asked. Draco looked at her eagerly.
"What do you think?"
She had to repress a smile. "We'll have to wait and see."
He nodded quickly. The glow in his eyes was too precious for her to break his enthusiasm. It reminded her of the moments they used to share when he was just a little boy. Sure, they were still spending time together now, and Draco was still very much affectionate, but he didn't need anyone to push the swing anymore. He wasn't even using the swing anymore… She had always loved going on those walks with him, she had always loved watching him run around and laugh, and when he'd come back to take her hand so she'd follow him, she'd love the way he'd look at her, with those bright grey eyes of his. They never got their glow back after the attack. So she liked going back to those memories, to those moments where she could swear nothing around them existed. Those moments where she only had to meet his eyes or hear his laugh, his little voice, these moments where she could only feel the both of them.
Lucius' silhouette appeared in the hallway behind Draco and she watched the man she loved approach. She smiled at them when Lucius strongly clasped his hands on Draco's shoulder to annoy him. The boy turned around to grab at the man's forearms in order to push him away.
"Will I be watching Quidditch tonight, or you two fight?"
"It would — be just — as interesting!" Draco got the words out through his efforts to keep his father's hands away.
"I don't think so," Lucius laughed, "she'd always know the outcome."
"Well, I'll get going, you're free to join me if you ever feel like it," Narcissa said.
Lucius effortlessly got the upper hand and gently pushed Draco away before he joined his wife. He placed a hand on her back and looked over his shoulder as they went for the front doors.
"We'll be going, but you have to watch over your mutt so we'll bring you back some sweets. Don't stay up too late."
.
After getting installed in the campsite, Draco tried to be patient. He wanted to run out of the tent and to go and look after Hermione, but he didn't want his parents to find his behavior odd.
In the miniature palace they were using as a tent, Draco was thinking about it all, lying on his comfortable bed. He absolutely needed to see her, it had been too long. They had written to each other all summer, of course, they at no point did they have the occasion to see each other. They were both bitter about it but ever since Hermione had told her she was going to the World Cup, Draco felt the hurt was sweeter.
They had to stop sending each other letters for a few days though, because Hermione had been staying at the Weasleys. The risk of Ron recognizing Draco's owl was too big and even if he didn't, he might wonder who she would be writing to. Draco had been annoyed to know she'd spend the rest of the summer there. Not even out of jealousy — though maybe there was a hint of it —, but because of his family. Draco couldn't help it. But he obliged. He replied one last time, and with his answer was a small gift for Hermione. A long, white feather. She would understand the meaning of it soon enough.
.
When Hermione had received this last letter, she found herself bringing the quill at the Weasleys. She had made sure it wouldn't get damaged with the rest of her stuff for Hogwarts, and she always had it in the back of her mind.
Once she arrived at the camping site with Harry and the Weasleys, she understood right away why he had given her the feather without a word about it in his letter. Because when they looked around the campsite and discovered all the tents, she noticed it immediately. The little palace was very noticeable indeed, and the white peacocks at its entrance stood out even more. It was the Malfoys' tent. Her heart started racing at the idea that he might be just a few feet away from her.
She had told Ginny about his presence and his tent, and the girls were walking around the campsite later that day, arm in arm, looking around just in case they'd see him. Suddenly, Hermione stopped her friend, and they both stared at his tent. Draco was coming out of it right at that moment. He looked taller than he was before the summer and Hermione panicked, as if she had to do something, to pretend not to look. Ginny was quite amused to see how red in the face she was.
"Come on, act natural. He'll see you," she said, getting her to walk again so they'd get just that much closer to his tent.
After all, Draco was looking around too, and Hermione hoped he was trying to find her.
When he spotted them, she saw a slight change in his expression, before he got the mask back on. He prudently gazed at the crowd, then at his girlfriend again, fighting the urge to go and kiss her right there and then. A mischievous smile grew on his face and he slid his hands in his pockets, finally walking away from his tent. He was walking towards the woods, away from everyone, and he hoped Hermione would follow soon after.
Ginny held her back only for a few minutes, just in case anyone had noticed Draco and would see her follow him, before she finally let her go.
"I'll wait for you, I'll make sure nobody finds me before you get back. Don't take too long, okay?"
"Promise," Hermione said with one last squeeze of Ginny's hand.
.
"Draco?" Hermione called quietly, making her way between the trees. There was no answer. She crossed her arms, unsure, but she kept on moving forward. "Draco?" She called again, barely louder.
She walked past the tree Draco was hiding behind and the boy walked silently around it so he'd end up behind her.
"You called?" He asked, amused. He almost toppled backwards when she turned around and threw herself in his arms. He laughed, hugging her back, eyes closed and his chin on her head. He took in her scent, her tight embrace, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head.
It took them longer than they thought it would to finally break apart, and Draco immediately held her hands. Hermione was beaming.
"I missed you," she let out quietly and he had to contain his grin.
Finally, he leaned. Their lips met, their eyes closed, and their grip on each other's hands became tighter.
"I missed you too," he whispered after the kiss broke.
"It's so unfair that we didn't get to spend any time together this summer…" she whispered. Draco tilted his head.
"I think it was to prepare you for what's about to come," Draco said. He pulled her with him towards one of the trees and he sat on the ground, resting his back against the trunk. Hermione immediately joined him, still holding his other hand.
"What do you mean?" She asked, her frown giving her the smallest wrinkle between her eyes.
"You have an entire school year of Draco Malfoy waiting for you, starting in only a few days, so…"
"You're right, I need to be prepared," Hermione chuckled before she kissed him again, briefly. Then, her free hand ran through his hair, then slowly along his cheek. He looked tired, she knew the full moon was about to hit, but she was glad he could still attend the Cup. Just as glad as she was to see him, even if it was probably only for a few minutes.
.
And she was right. They didn't stay in the woods too long. They just had time to talk a bit more before they had to kiss each other goodbye, knowing it was probably the only occasion they'd have to talk during the event. They would leave early the next day and waiting another week before school would be another penance.
Hermione left the woods first, finding Ginny not long after and joining the others in front of the tent. After a few minutes, Draco left the woods too, looking unbothered once again. He noticed the little group quickly, they weren't so far away. Ron did as well and they exchanged a nasty glare. When Harry saw him, he didn't show any annoyance, nor any sympathy. Ron glanced at the woods, then at Draco again, meeting his eyes. Draco smirked and, looking as arrogant as ever, he walked towards his tent under the group's gaze.
That was when Hermione noticed a woman who was about to enter the palace as well, but whose full attention was caught by Draco's presence only. When he arrived, she put her hand on his back and let him go in first before she followed him.
Hermione had recognized her instantly. She had never seen her before, but the condescension on her face was the exact same as Draco's. If Draco was physically the spitting image of his father, he certainly got his attitude from his mother.
He had mentioned her in two of his letters during the summer, and from what Hermione could tell, he held her in such high regard that nobody should dare speak ill of her in front of him. He clearly adored his parents, and they adored him, and though she didn't like Lucius in the slightest and feared Draco's mother might only be the exact same as the man she married, she felt weird, having Draco hide things and lie to people he respected so much.