Title:
Twins
Author:
Kiarene
Pairings: none yet
Rating:
G
Summary: The Malfoy twins
start Hogwarts. Totally AU. Protective!Lucius and sweet!Draco.
Published:
13th January
2006
Disclaimer: Not mine sighs
A/N and warnings: Will be slashy eventually. Twincest hints. Sap overload. Turn back now if any of that offends you. I can't even begin to say pre-HBP or pre-GoF; it deviates from canon right from the first.
Twins
Chapter 7
In which there is a Halloween party.
In the week leading up to Samhain, or Halloween, the students were all in a tizzy. The teachers have all given up trying to teach and instead concentrated on their own work — magic was especially potent on Samhain, and that day has traditionally been an important day for the wizarding world.
To distract the children, the adults have taken a leaf from the Muggle celebration of Halloween — let the children dress up and run around and gorge on candy while the adults take the chance to get their work done.
And so in Hogwarts, the students were allowed to dress up and run around and gorge on candy while the adults were busy. Of course they were giddy.
In the dungeons, students were clustered excitedly, practically bouncing from dorms to common rooms as they compared costumes, squealing.
Lucius and Draco had chosen to be cats, or to be precise, kittens. They had short but lush pelts in pearl gray, and bibs of pure white. The kittenus potion, suggested and brewed by Snape, was a popular potion for kids. Perky little ears, long whiskers, feline eyes and large paws completed the look. Slits in their dark gray shorts allowed their tails to swing free.
"Oh my." Pansy couldn't stopped stroking their fur; she ran her hand down their shoulders with the practiced motions of a cat owner. Pansy herself was wearing a red Chinese tunic that complimented her dark hair nicely. Artful makeup slanted her eyes and gave her skin an olive tone. "It feels so soft, so warm. Like a real cat."
"Of course it's real," Lucius sniffed. He held out a hand/paw. "Look, I can even extend and retract the claws."
"Aren't you cold?" Blaise asked Draco curiously.
It was late autumn and despite the castle's heating charms, the air was a little chilly. However, they were pleasantly surprised to find that their fur was more than warm enough. In fact, they could have gone without clothes — their fur would have provided adequate cover — but there was just something uncomfortable about having one's boy bits hanging out in the open.
Draco resisted the urge to lick his paw and groom himself. "No, this fur is wonderful."
The first-years stood in the common room, admiring each other's costumes. Vincent came as a centaur. He confirmed that the hind quarters were real (enough) and that the effect was achieved with a fairly complex potion Snape had brewed for him. Gregory came as a Russian war-wizard, complete with heavy furs, necklace of bear teeth and aggressive red tattoos. Blaise was a merman — stuck-on gills on his neck opened and closed slowly, fins dangled along his arms and his skin shimmered with blue-green scales.
"Oh, you all look so darling!" Evenlina slithered up. The tall chaser came as a naga; a half-snake, half-human. Her forked tongue flickered in and out.
"I have a camera!" Nicholas trotted up, waving a small black object. He was a faun, and his goat hooves clattered loudly on the flagstone floors. Everyone posed obligingly. And posed.
And posed.
"Food! Come on, let's go!" Vincent yelled just as Pansy fluffed out her hair again for yet another angle. Laughing, they all headed towards the Hall for dinner.
"Does this seem a little off?" Draco asked, looking up at the decorations. The Hall was done up in orange and black, with tall candles in silver and gold. Skeletons swung from the ceilings and ghosts flew overhead. Spiders dangled and various multi-legged insects adorned the walls. The enchanted ceiling overhead showed a bright moon peeking out from behind dark clouds and howls could be heard in the distance.
"I heard it's supposed to be a haunted house," Evenlina said uncertainly.
"That would explain the ghosts, but the skeletons? Spiders?" Lucius sneered.
Draco poked at a crumbling mummy, his claws shredding the bandages slightly. "I thought mummies were from Egypt. What does it have to do with a British haunted house?"
"Er. A Muggle haunted house?" Evenlina shrugged. The Slytherins looked confused. The decorations did seem a little schizophrenic.
Marcus sniffed dismissively. "Muggles are odd, odd creatures."
"I wonder where the extra ghosts came from?" Pansy wondered.
"They were old Hogwarts ghosts." The Baron floated down from the ceiling and was greeted politely by the Slytherins. "As you know, many ghosts fade away after a period of time. However, on a night such as Halloween, some may be called back temporarily with a spell."
"Thank you sir," Pansy called out as the stately ghost drifted away again.
Dinner was lovely. The house-elves had made all the traditional Samhain favorites such as spiced pumpkin pie and colcannon. There were plates of cauldron cookies and towers of pumpkin muffins, bowls of custard apples and pans of autumn leaf cake. For the children, there was even non-alcoholic Irish galway wassail.
After dinner was over, the tables were quickly cleared. Booths and exhibitions were set up by the older students. Divination was especially popular, a witch specialty. It was easiest to use cauldrons of water or tea, though tarot cards were quite popular too. A few Ravenclaw girls were demonstrating divination by using a pendulum; beside them, a pair of Slytherin sisters were drawing divination runes on the floor.
In one corner, Marcus and Oliver Wood were having an argument about banishings. Marcus was dressed as an impressively shaggy shaman, while Oliver sported an impressive set of canines and a silk cape. Lucius and Draco drifted closer, listening interestedly.
"Do you think all ghosts are so benign? That they merely require a little nudge in the right direction?" Marcus sneered. "This way please, mind your step," he mimed in a high-pitched voice.
Some students tittered.
Wood rolled his eyes. "Yes. It has always worked for me so far. Your methods are simply barbaric."
"They are not!" Marcus roared, flicking his whip with a loud snap. Someone called Peeves, the poltergeist, over. Soon a contest to see who can banish Peeves started, but Peeves hadn't been a ghost in a school full of bored teenagers for the past century without having learned a few tricks of his own.
Draco soon grew bored and tugged Lucius' hand. "C'mon, I'm thirsty."
"Uhh…" Lucius looked reluctant. Marcus was starting a chant. "I think I'll stay for a little while more. I'll look for you later, ok?"
Draco noticed Lucius' eyes on Marcus sourly, but he shrugged it off. "All right."
At the snacks table, Draco had just poured himself a drink when he heard familiar voices. Glancing to his side, he noticed the Gryffindor trio whispering heatedly by a pillar. So they can have arguments too, he thought in amusement. Then, feeling curious, he decided to listen in. The Hall was dimly lit and the pillar was very convenient.
Potter had obviously decided to go for the street urchin look — a baggy, tatty sweater hung to mid-thighs and his jeans were worn, his knobby knees showing. Granger was dressed, very inappropriately in Draco's opinion, in a pink frilly dress with glimmering wings. Because a cutesy Granger? Is an oxymoron. And, is that a wand tipped with a shiny star in her hand?
Draco cringed, eyes sliding to Weasley before darting away again. Good Merlin! Has no one told the boy one never combines lime green with red hair? He wasn't sure what Weasley wanted to be and he wasn't interested.
"If he's planning anything, tonight's the night to do it," Potter said heatedly. "That greasy git's been busy all week. I just want to find out what."
Draco stiffened protectively.
"So has every other teacher." Granger crossed her arms, frowning in a no-nonsense way that looked incongruous with her pink frills and fairy wings. "And I'll say this again, I think you're making a mistake here. Headmaster Dumbledore closed off those corridors for a reason."
"I think—" Weasley faltered at the girl's hard stare. Wimp, Draco snickered.
Potter was quiet for a while, and then he shrugged. "Ok. You're right."
"Great." Granger beamed. Draco wanted to slap his forehead.
'You stupid bint — can't you see he's not convinced', Draco thought. 'Next thing he'll be wanting to slip off.'
"Hey Hermione, I'm feeling a little tired. I think I'll turn in early." Potter yawned widely. Draco cringed at the utter lack of acting skills.
"Ok Harry. Have a good rest," Granger said sweetly.
'How can you be so smart yet so dumb', Draco whined mentally.
"Yeah mate." Weasley gave Potter a hearty pat on his shoulder.
Draco was incredulous. Surely they weren't so stupid… Wait. They were Gryffindors. Though Potter was behaving quite the Slytherin here, even if no Slytherin would be fooled by such a flimsy excuse.
Feeling really, really curious now — maybe it was the cat outfit — Draco decided to tail Potter. Upon leaving the hall, the dark-haired boy immediately set off at a brisk pace.
Feeling tired my arse, Draco snorted. He jogged behind the other boy, glad that the soft pads of his hind paws/feet made no noise. Potter slowed down as they got to the third floor; it was a section Draco had never been to before. The classrooms were closed, the floor dusty.
Finding a room that was ajar, Potter cautiously pushed the door. It gave a low creak, scaring the two boys, but when nothing happened, he walked in.
Draco gave Potter a couple of minutes to settle before he crept in, tail waving. It appeared to be some sort of storage room. Furniture was covered in dusty drapes and boxes were stacked on the floor. And over by the other end of the room stood the Boy-Who-Lived in front of an uncovered mirror. Dim light filtered in through grime-streaked windows.
The cat-boy crept closer.
Draco caught a glimpse of Potter's reflection; the other boy was wide-eyed and shocked. He was unbearably curious by now — it was obvious that was a magic mirror and didn't that idiot boy know that one shouldn't carelessly look into a magic mirror? His ears twitched.
What did Potter see?
Suddenly, he heard footsteps. Draco looked around frantically before diving behind a covered sofa. He held his breath and peered around it.
Dumbledore stepped into the room, his steps slow and ponderous. "Harry."
"Headmaster!" Potter jerked back from the mirror, clearly startled. His eyes darted guiltily between the mirror and the old wizard, before his vaunted Gryffindor courage came to fore. "Sir, what is this mirror?"
Dumbledore walked slowly across to room to stand beside Potter, gazing into the mirror. "The Mirror of Erised." He gave a sigh.
"What does it do? Why do I see…" Potter trailed off, looking back at the mirror.
"It shows you your heart's fondest desire," Dumbledore rumbled. "What do you see, Harry?"
Draco watched, wide-eyed.
"My parents. I see my parents," Potter said quietly. He sounded as if he was holding back tears, and at that point, Draco abruptly felt sorry for the Boy-Who-Lived.
Dumbledore was silent.
"Nobody tells me anything," Potter continued. His tone was bitter. "I don't know anything."
"Sometimes, it's for your own good," Dumbledore said kindly. Draco rolled his eyes.
Potter shook his head stubbornly. "Don't you think I've a right to know these things? How they died. Why they died. Headmaster, I don't even know when they were killed."
Dumbledore turned to leave, his shoulders drooping. Suddenly, he looked as old as they said he was, nothing like the absent-minded foolish grandfather he normally seemed to be.
"Headmaster!" Potter called out angrily.
"Samhain," Dumbledore replied, his back turned to Potter. "Eleven years ago today, Voldemort attacked your home. On Samhain."
The only sound in the room after Dumbledore left was Potter's hitched sobs. Draco held his breath, tense. Finally, he stood up.
"Malfoy!" Potter immediately had his wand out, but from the way his hand was shaking, Draco doubted if he was in any condition to cast a spell. "How long—?"
Draco held up his hands/paws to show he was unarmed. "I'm not here to fight, Potter."
"Here to gloat instead? Poke fun at me?" Potter muttered jerkily, wiping his tears.
"I wouldn't do that," Draco said quietly. Like calming a skittish animal, he started to walk forward very slowly. He tried for levity. "But if you'd like, I can do that too."
"What are you doing here?"
Draco decided to go for the truth. "I overheard you planning something against my Head-of-House and followed you."
Potter didn't have anything to say to that, though he really wasn't in a condition to make a snappy comeback, with his red eyes and running nose. Draco fished about his shorts and found a handkerchief, offering it to Potter. "And keep it," he said gruffly, making a moue of disgust.
Potter bowed his head, blowing his nose while Draco turned away discretely. For a few minutes, the two boys stood in awkward silence. Draco wondered what he should say.
"So." Draco's eyes slid over to the mirror again, not looking into the glass of course, but rather at the lettering on the frame. It said, Erised.
"Dumbledore's a git."
"What?" Potter's mouth dropped open.
Draco shrugged. "Er. That's what I think." And then, warming up to the topic, he continued. "I think he's always been a bit loony and a right git to Slytherins, but tonight I realized he can be a git to Gryffindors as well. It's all his fault!"
Potter blinked at Draco's rant.
"Feel better now?" Draco gave a nod. "Blame someone else. It usually makes me feel better."
"I should have known," Potter said sarcastically, stifling a laugh. Draco didn't allow it to bother him.
"So what did you see in the mirror?"
"Why should I tell you?" Potter shot back.
Draco tried to act disinterested, though his tail was curling and uncurling with his curiosity. "You don't have to. I merely asked."
There was yet another period of silence while Potter stared steadily at him and Draco scuffed his feet/paws and wondered if he should leave. Lucius might be getting worried.
"My parents," Potter said abruptly. "I saw my parents."
"Oh," Draco said softly. "No wonder what Dumbledore said…"
Potter turned away angrily, rubbing at his wet eyes again. "Shut up. What do you know?"
Draco glared at Potter's back. "More than your Gryffindor friends apparently. You're not the only one to lose parents to the Dark Lord."
"At least you still have your mother. Your twin," Potter muttered resentfully.
"At least you have your friends. Are you having fun at your pity party yet? Poor me, whine whine." Draco sneered. He resisted the urge to give Potter a hard shove. "I'm trying to help you here but you don't even have the decency to face me."
"Help me?" Potter whirled around, green eyes snapping. "How is bitching at me, helping me?"
"I told you that I understand your loss!" Draco yelled back. "And I gave you some advice; that it's not the end of the world and that you have your friends!"
"Why do you care? You're not my friend!"
"Damn right I'm not! And whose fault is that?" Draco was not feeling sore about that, definitely not. "And it's precisely because I'm not your friend that you should appreciate this more!"
"What the fuck?" Potter shoved him, and the sudden violence infuriated Draco.
"If I were your friend, I would of course be murmuring platitudes and wringing my hands. But am I doing it because I truly believe what I am saying, or because I feel obligated as your friend? However, since I am not your friend, the answer should be obvious even to an idiot like you!"
Draco drew himself up coldly. "Good night."
"….wait!"
Draco ignored the other boy, flinging off the hand angrily and strode off. Potter did not follow.
Lucius plopped down on a bench tiredly, mouth twisting down in irritation. He looked around the cavernous room again, though the teeming bodies made it extremely hard to locate one small, blond boy.
Where was Draco?
"Looking for your brother, young Lucius?" Professor Quirrell's slightly nasal voice startled him.
"Good evening sir," Lucius said distantly, choosing to ignore Quirrell's question. He kept his gaze on the room, hoping the other man would leave him alone. At times, the disconcerting wizard seemed like a different man, in speech and in manner.
"What do you think of the celebrations tonight?"
Alas, no such luck. "It's all right," Lucius muttered sullenly.
"Come now, surely you are more articulate than just that?" The professor sat down beside him and Lucius fought the urge to move away. "For example, as a wizard from an old, distinguished family, do you not think that the celebrations tonight are a bit of a mockery of the traditions of Samhain?"
"What do you mean, sir?" Lucius' toes curled.
"Look at the flying ghosts and pumpkin decorations and silly costumes; they're ridiculous!" Quirrell sneered.
Lucius had thought it all a little silly, but it wasn't as bad as Quirrell made it out to be. And it was fun, in a way. "They're meant in jest and taken from muggles—"
"Exactly!" Quirrell's strident tone scared him.
"This is all a mockery because they are taken from muggles' preposterous ideas of 'Halloween'!" Quirrell made a disgusted sound. "What do they know of the traditions of Samhain? Dumbledore should not have allowed this shameful dilution of our ways. Wizards should keep to wizards, and muggles to muggles."
"Yes sir," Lucius murmured, uncomfortable at the older wizard's rant.
"Do you agree with me, boy?"
"Yes sir." What could he say? He scanned the room frantically, and when he saw Marcus' welcome bulk shouldering through the crowd, he almost sighed in relief.
"Lucius! I was looking for you!" The tall boy eyed Quirrell suspiciously. "Professor Quirrell."
"Mr Fli..Flint." Lucius' eyes widened as Quirrell's voice changed, slightly uncertain and stuttering, but he did not say anything.
The older wizard stood up, arranging his robes. "Have a go…good night, boys."
Marcus sat down on the bench beside Lucius, watching Quirrell as he walked away. "Creepy sort, isn't he?"
"Yeah." Lucius gave a wan smile. "Thanks."
"So, what did he talk to you about?" Marcus growled, practically bristling.
"Something about the introduction of muggle ways into this Samhain celebration… how wizards shouldn't mix with muggles," Lucius said quietly.
"Ah."
They watched the festivities in silence for a while. Then, Lucius scooted closer and spoke up again in a soft voice. "What do you think?"
"I agree… partly," Marcus said just as softly, carefully. Unnoticed by anyone except the boy beside him, the Slytherin captain slid his wand out of his sleeve and cast a privacy spell. "Lucius, you couldn't have known then, but I remembered how it was like just before the Dark Lord was killed.
"The Dark Lord may have started off with ideals many of the old wizarding families are in agreement with, and he had garnered their support. They were good, valid points. But as his power grew, he became unstable. By the time I was old enough to remember, he had become erratic. Cruel. That was what I remember of him." His voice became hollow. "It was bad then. Even us, the old families, we were all… careful."
"Mother didn't like to talk about it, doesn't like us to read about it," Lucius said petulantly. "I don't know anything."
Marcus gave a gusty sigh. The older boy looked as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind.
"Do you… do you know what exactly happened to my father?" Lucius asked hesitantly.
Marcus shook his head. "I'm sorry Lucius, I don't know."
Lucius looked up at the older boy, eyes sharp. "But it was only his methods you disagree with, right?"
"You are entirely too clever for a boy your age," Marcus said ruefully. He dissipated the spell with a flick of his wand. "Enough. There will be no more such talk of this tonight."
Lucius looked hard at the older boy, slightly irritated at the brush-off. Then he shrugged and stood up. "All right. I am going to look for Draco now."
"Do you need my help?"
Lucius shook his head, a slight frown on his face. "It's all right. Thank you anyway. Good night, Marcus."
"Hey Lucius." Marcus gave an apologetic smile when the younger boy turned back. "I'm really sorry about that. I promise you, one day I'll tell you what I know. But for now… just enjoy your youth, eh?"
"…thank you Marcus. I appreciate that." The slight wrinkle between Lucius' brows disappeared and he gave a small smile.
"Where were you?" Lucius scolded, making an exasperated sound. He held open the blanket as Draco crawled in.
"I'm cold." Draco slipped his hands under his brother's shirt. Lucius yelped and grumbled, but allowed Draco to leave his hands there. Cold or not, his brother's hands felt nice against his skin. "I overheard Potter talking about Uncle Sev…"
As Draco related what he did, Lucius felt himself growing annoyed. "Why do you keep running into Potter? I noticed you keep looking at him too," he said in a sulky voice. Honestly, he couldn't care less about the Brat-Who-Lived.
"I do not. Only sometimes. I would be playing opposite him next year; Seekers you know. So I thought I should get to know his habits and all," Draco explained.
"He's a nobody who got lucky," Lucius complained, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist.
"Yes he is," Draco agreed, snorting. "He dresses like a beggar, his spectacles are always broken and held in place with spellotape—"
Lucius tried, but he couldn't recall any detail about the dark-haired boy. Potter was scrawny, plain, and utterly forgettable.
"—and he's really lousy in class. His grades are horrible." Draco shook his head, frowning. "I really don't see at all why the teachers are so interested in him. So he got lucky as a baby. Surviving the killing curse like that has absolutely nothing to do with his own ability, obviously."
"Draco, I really couldn't care less," Lucius muttered, a trifle sullenly. "Stop talking about that git."
"You're absolutely right." Draco gave an exasperated huff. "I don't even know why I was talking about him."
"Draco, just shut up about him." Lucius buried his nose in his brother's fine hair, wishing Draco would stop using that hair gel. Perhaps if he wrote to Mother, asking her not to send anymore…
The two boys were silent for a while, slowly drifting off to sleep, when Draco murmured, "Did you stand there watching Marcus all the while when I was gone?"
Lucius thought about Quirrell, and decided there was no need to worry his twin about such trivial matters. After all, nothing really happened. "Yeah."
"Oh."
Lucius ran a hand through Draco's hair drowsily. Sometimes, he feels as if they were starting to grow up, to drift apart, especially since he was on the Quidditch team while Draco was only a reserve. Still, he was glad that they would be going home soon for the winter break. So many things to do, and Mother would be so happy to see them…
Lucius soon fell asleep, his hand slipping from his brother's soft hair, a smile on his face as he dreamed of future Quidditch matches where he captained the team and Draco caught the Snitch.
