Meditation and Cleaning

The Dragon gets busy.

The next morning was as hard as Draco had feared. Potter invaded his peace of mind with a Howling Charm. Draco's mind and body screamed in unison that it was way too early, but Potter was persistent.

"Bloody hell, what're you doing, fuck off," Draco groaned from his pillow.

"Oh my, your mouth is certainly not the most clean thing in the morning. If you don't feel like washing it yourself, maybe I'll scourgify it for you."

"This time of day is inhuman," Draco moaned.

"You don't make any sense, Malfoy. You should thank me for waking you up, or would you rather have done extra work-out for being late?"

"Bugger off, Potter. Your face first in the morning does not make me less grumpier."

"Chop chop now, breakfast is served and Sensei is waiting for us in half an hour."

"My stomach isn't awake yet."

"Well starve then. See you." The harasser left the room in a blessed calm and Draco settled into his bed, already half asleep.

"Oh no, you don't," Cassiopeia shrieked from her painting. "Get your lazy bottom out of here; I still need a good few hours of beauty sleep, and there won't be one moment of quiet here if you lie in now. Harry's Howling Charm is very efficient, and I don't want to experience it again today."

Draco scowled at her and crawled into the bathroom wishing all talkative portraits a holiday with dragons. After he had awakened himself with a quick cold shower, he noticed his reflection in the large mirror Potter had supplied him. Running his fingers over his features in the mirror, he grimaced at the bad condition of his looks.

A few years back he had prided himself to be easily the most handsome boy at Hogwarts. The only one who got more second glances was Potter, who gained it with his over-rated history and uproarious rumours. It all changed last year. He had no time for caring for himself, the sleepless nights and stressful days soon crippling him.

And then that encounter with Potter, leaving him scarred across his chest. The once untouched snow-white plains now had a dark red road where Potter had cut him with a curse. And that was not the only mark flawing his skin. Cuts and bruises formed patterns all over his bodies, still in the process of healing. The skin itself was greyed and tired-looking, loose over some bones, stretching over his ribs, showing the quivering of his heart.

No more manicured nails, no more smooth, soft lips, no more light catching silver-gold hair, no more silver eyes with secret flames.

He looked how he felt.

Draco could feel the sobs making their way up his throat, his chest straining against the pressure of breathing. He sank into a corner, pressing his hands against the cage trying to open up and flood him. He could not fall now. He would not give in now.


Draco managed to get himself ready just on time, hurrying up the two floors between his room and the training room, still composing his features into that safe mask. Potter congratulated him for being on time, knocked on the door and entered. Draco took a deep breath and entered.

The morning exercises consisting of yoga, tai chi and meditation were begun, both boys struggling with the unfamiliar movements, trying to keep in balance and focus under the hawk eye of the Sensei. Keeping thoughts on only your movement and sensation brought a long wanted peace to Draco's mind, but keeping it so was hard.

Finally the Sensei let them sit down and relax, guiding them through breathing exercises, telling them about theories of breathing and drawing pictures and graphs of the human anatomy in the air. After a few hours of heavy breathing, Potter, renowned for his impatience, finally burst out, interrupting the lecture.

"Excuse me sensei, but why aren't we studying fighting techniques or other useful things?"

Draco had a strong urge to knock Potter's thick head into the wall, but the Sensei just raised her eyebrows and explained.

"Bleathing is the basic action of everything. It is the key to evelything. Without bleath there is no life, no movement, no action."

"But I've breathed for my all my life without any problem, why should I breathe any differently now?"

"Each bleath of air blings enelgy. The better you bleathe the better your whole body and mind work. By collect bleathing you can calm yourself even in stlessful times and use magic more effectively." This didn't convince the Boy Who Lived Without A Brain at all, and the Sensei sighed and asked Potter to draw his wand. Puzzled, Potter managed to obey her.

"Now. Please hit this surface I cleate. It will change its colour according to the power of your stlike; the ledder the colour the stlonger the hit."

Potter did what he was told; aiming at the quivering lattice of magic the Sensei had whipped up on one wall. It turned into a greenish yellow, giving Draco a good grin.

"Now bleathe with the planayama technique you have just learned." Potter breathed in with more strength than usual.

"Now stlike with just the same force as before." The lattice turned into a blazing orange.

"Please explain how you felt as you leleased your magic?"

"Well, umm, it was easier to draw magic out."

"Good. Now it seems to be the time for lunch. We will continue in two hours."

Draco suddenly noticed how hungry he was, and was rewarded by a mouth-watering aroma from the kitchen. This time also the Weasley twins and Fleur Delacour joined the usual group

"Hello, Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley welcomed when they walked in. "Hello, Draco."

Draco found himself smiling at her, and didn't even bother checking himself in. He sat again beside the Gryffindor Three, waiting eagerly for the meal. Fleur Delacour moved to greet Draco, and Draco winced inwardly. He was not feeling up to seeing the beautiful girl; she only reminded him of his lost looks.

"'Ello, you are the famous monsieur Malfoy, are you not?" the part-Veela breathed in her singsong way.

"A pleasure, mademoiselle Delacour, how do you do?"

"Ah, no more mademoiselle and no more Delacour. I'm proud to tell you I am madame Bill Weasley."

"Congratulations, madame Weasley." Draco cursed himself for forgetting. Mother would have been shocked with his manners. But Mother was –

"But please call me Fleur, I do not feel that old yet!"

"Old is not a word I could think of when with you."

"Oh, you flatter me! But 'ow are you? You must 'ave 'ad a very tough time!"

"I make do," Draco tried to smile, "but what about you? You seem to be blooming."

"A woman is almost at her most beautiful when pregnant," Mrs. Weasley beamed as she brought them a plate of chicken and rice each. Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. The Weasleys were miraculous in their ability to reproduce.

Fleur accepted his repeated congratulations with flushed cheeks, and as Mrs. Weasley sat beside her she began a sparkle-eyed conversation about childcare and nappies. Draco could not care less, so he concentrated in eating his food.

"Mum just loves Fleur now that she is giving her a grandchild. Remember the beginning?" Ron Weasley rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes, it was practically the Cold War in the Burrow," Granger commented.

"What's that?" Weasley asked, echoing Draco's thoughts.

"A hostile situation in Muggle politics between the Soviet Union and the States from the 40's until the 80's. It was caused by—"

"Magical history is boring enough, 'Mione. So what were you saying, Harry?"

"Just wondering what breathing actually has anything to do with magic."

"Potter, the Sensei explained it to you separately after explaining it many times before," Draco scorned.

"Breathing and magic?" Weasley scoffed.

"Yes, Weasley. I'll explain it so that even your empty skull can understand it. Air equals energy, energy equals magic, so air equals magic."

"It does actually work," Potter said as Weasley blushed in his ugly way, "the Sensei made me hit this charm that changed colour according to the power of the magic hitting it, and the hit after breathing with the plana-thingie was stronger."

"Pranayama, Potter, pranayama. And it was not a charm, it was a magical lattice for detecting levels of magic use." By this time Granger was squirming with questions and Draco gladly entered a discussion that involved brain cells.

When they had finished eating, and Draco rose to go to his room, Mrs. Weasley pulled him aside and asked him nervously if the food was good.

"Err… yes, it was delicious, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you."

"Was it …well, fatty?"

Draco blinked a few times before he answered, "No, it was just perfect."

"Thank you, Draco dear," Mrs Weasley smiled at him and bustled off.


The days went on and Draco fell to the rhythm of the morning exercises, lessons, practices, lunches, lectures, workout, classes, training, supper, and long evenings turning into long nights, trying to avoid nightmares and thinking about things that were not to be thought about.

Meditation, it seemed, helped and as Draco became more used to it, he used a lot of his alone time in a state of mental peace. He was also gaining weight, and Draco spent time before the mirror watching as his body healed and started forming lean muscles. He had had muscles before, gained from Quidditch, but these were more refined, more generally spread. His body was no more a perfection of elegance and purity, but he found he rather liked the new, strong look of himself.

But his eyes were still as haunted as before and he feared those moments when everything broke down and he felt so alone and lost.

The wary true that seemed to have formed between Draco and the Order held, and he talked politely to all (except maybe Ron Weasley), keeping his thoughts to himself. Molly Weasley became quite warm towards him and Arthur Weasley smiled at him. Lupin and Tonks chatted to him occasionally. Fleur struck a certain familiar chord with him, talking of beauty care and etiquette and things that Draco was used to hearing from pureblooded, high-class wives. The Weasley brothers kept a distance from him, but did not bother him.

When Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt or other aurors of the Ministry visited he quickly hid in his room, not wanting to face any interrogation. They had tried to, but he never knew anything that mattered in Death Eater circles, and even if he did, the news were already old.

Granger's discussion he actually enjoyed during the meals, finding her the only person to share his thoughts on magic and other intellectual things, but that was all. Weasley he picked on, as Granger and Potter kept him from attacking Draco, and well, Draco found no other use for him. He kept his hands strictly off Potter, sharing lessons, but nothing else.

A few weeks into the training, Potter told the Sensei that he had to go away for a few days on Order business.

"Vely well," said the Sensei, "we will pause the lessons for the time being."

Draco frowned, but kept quiet. What would he do during those days?

In the evening, when Potter had gone off to fight and be a hero, Weasley and Granger with him, she knocked on Draco's door.

"Sensei-san!" Draco bowed to her.

"Would Malfoy-san give me the pleasure of dlinking tea with me?"

"Of course, sensei-san."

She led him to her room, and the carved dragon bowed to her as she entered with Draco. While two embroidered slippers helped themselves on his feet, he appraised the room. It was a peaceful light room, its wall panelled with a beautiful white wood, one wall opened fully to be a window, showing the rooftops of London. Paper screens painted with depictions of nature were on one side, ready to be slid to cover the windows. Screens were also dividing other parts of the room out of sight. No furniture was in sight.

"I suppose your implessive knowledge on Japanese etiquette does not include the alt of the tea celemony, Malfoy-san?"

"I am sorry, no. And I only know enough to survive."

"But that is much alleady. How have you come by to learning the etiquette of such a faraway land, may I ask?"

"My…mother taught me. As a Malfoy I am required to handle any social situation possible."

"That is a vely useful skill. How is your mother?"

Draco swallowed painfully. "She is dead."

"I am solly. Forgive me for leminding you of your painful loss, Malfoy-san."

Draco fought back his tears and the darkness gathering in the back of his mind threatening to swallow him. He gratefully accepted the teacup the Sensei offered him and sipped from it. She set the teapot she had produced from her sleeve and drank from her own cup.

"This is very good tea," Draco said.

"Thank you. The leaf is glown by my blother-in-law. He is vely skilled in tea glowing."

"I wish your sister and her husband are well."

"Oh, I do not have a sister. My brother and his partner are however vely well," the Sensei smiled dryly. Draco took a big gulp of the hot tea to mask his surprise, burning his throat.

"So same-sex marriages are approved in Japan?" he blurted out after a while and flushed.

"Not by all, no," the Sensei replied with sparkling eyes, "but as there is no law against it, it is possible to mally a pelson of the same sex. It is also helped in the magical community by the fact that we do not legister in the Mágua government, who do not allow same-sex couples to legister. Wizalds and witches only need to go thlough the Shinto ceremony.

"But most older and tladitional people do not accept it at all. My father, who is vely tladitional does not speak to the lest of our family anymore, because we suppolted my blother. The Kikuta family is lenowned for discipline and skill, and my father's plide is not to be gone against."

"But how does your support for your brother change your skill? You are a teacher in the Academy, surely your father is proud of that?"

"My blother is even more skilled than I am. But my father is lodged in the tladitions of old Japan. Defying the head of your family is a severe clime. But we managed to inhelit our mother's stubbolnness and libelal views. She is part Kolean, part Chinese, part Mongolian and heaven knows what else, and she is as flexible and stlong as wax wood." A small, proud smile emerged on her face. "When my father oldered my blother to let go of 'these foolish feelings', she lose up and told him that if he thought love was a foolish feeling, she would leave his house to lelieve him from the plesence of these foolish feelings."

Draco laughed aloud with his teacher, ignoring the nagging sorrow clawing at his thoughts. The Sensei rummaged her magical sleeves once again and produced some delicious cookies to go with the tea.

"But now to business. Potter-san has left us on our own for a couple of days, so there is no use in doing normal lessons. I have been thinking, that this house in vely poor condition." Draco felt a grin creeping onto his face. "Would you care to join me, lefurbishing this house?"

"I would love to! And what makes it easier is that Potter has actually given me permission to decorate," Draco drawled with mischievous joy.

"Excellent! That will make things easier. I will not have to bypass the house's contlact. We can have our way with the whole house!" The Sensei's eyes sparkled with conspiring glee. Draco looked forward to the next few days. Potter was in for a surprise.


They began the next day after the morning exercises.

"We begin from the top, and wolk down," the Sensei informed Draco, "that way there will not be ploblems with the house contlact of ownership. Potter-san would not be happy to lose his house instead of just one loom."

"How do you actually do that?" Draco asked. "Turn a room under your control."

"Not telling you, Malfoy-san. I am not going to get kicked out yet," the Sensei deflated Draco's dream of having call over his room, but continued, "As I am alleady testing my boundalies by teaching you how to use magic without a wand."

Draco's eyebrows tried to jump over his forehead and his lips reached for his ears. "Really?"

"Yes. But don't get too excited, I forbid you to use it without my leave."

"But it still means I'm getting ahead of Potter?"

"Oh yes. There is always a punishment for unattending your tlaining. I was not going to teach either of you for a while, but I don't want to get bored in these few days."

Draco snickered. This was getting better all the time.

"Now, we have been doing a lot of exercises with the concept of enelgy, chi, have we not?"

"Yes." Draco enjoyed the circulation of energy that came with the meditation.

"I will let you in with a little seclet. This is actually what you call magic."

"Oh!"

"Do the exercise of extending the ring."

Draco closed his eyes and imagined the circle of energy flowing around his arms. Slowly parting his fingers, keeping in mind the flow.

"Imagine the enelgy to be a colour. Good. Now open your eyes."

Draco opened his eyes and there, between his fingers, a faint blue line stretched from one hand to other. He laughed aloud, but at that moment, the line vanished.

"What did you do wlong?"

"I- I lost concentration."

"Exactly. But now that you undelstand, we will go to the attic. Follow me."

Together they ascended the flights of stairs and entered the attic. It was gloomy and full of cobwebs and bat droppings and generally plain filthy. The Sensei flexed her shoulders and turned to Draco.

"First, we clean it up. I plefer to do this," she flicked her hand and a gust of wind swept the cobwebs off the beams, "but we each have a certain plefelence on doing things. I'll leave you to expeliment in this end," and she marched to the darkness of the other end. "And watch out for doxies and such."

Draco stood a while considering. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated to form a circle of energy. He opened his eyes, careful not to stop the flow. Squinting at the air where he knew the energy was, he thought he saw a blurring of the air. The faster he made the flow, the more evident the blur became. But how could he get the magic to clean for him?

The Sensei used a gust to get rid of the dirt, but as hard as Draco tried, he could not get he magic to do more than form little tornados between his hands that messed himself and things up worse than before. That had to be because of the circular movement of the magic. But he could not control the magic if he did not move it as a ring.

If he could control air with the ring, could he control other things? He thought of sparking the circle into flame, but then realized he would only set himself on fire, and probably the house too. Water was not present, and he did not have any idea of how to conjure water without a wand, so he gave up that idea.

What about more abstract things? There was dirt, the dirt had to go, what if he vanished it? But Vanishing Charms were already difficult with a wand, and there was know way he could decipher the trick for it without any help.

Summoning, Draco thought suddenly. Getting all the dirt into a pile would work. How to get the magic to pull the dirt in? He experimented by getting the circle to suck stuff in. It did work, and he watched as a small pile of dust, dead things and muck formed a small pile in the middle of the circle. But then the sucking stopped, and try what he did, he couldn't get any more dirt to move into the circle.

"Vely good Malfoy-san. You found the plactical way of doing it." Draco started and he ceased to try and suck in dirt, but he managed to keep the circle flowing. The Sensei stood next to him.

"That end is now clean," she said and Draco could see the wood shining in the other end of the attic. She looked down at the little pile of dirt and Draco blushed. He had only managed to realize how to do this.

"No, no, don't feel ashamed Malfoy-san. You have alleady made gleat plogless. You just have to lealize the last step to make it most effective. I will give you a clue. What do you suck into the circle?"

"Umm..dirt?"

"Did you focus on sucking in only dirt?"

"No."

"Then you were sucking evelything in, were you not? The house and me and yourself too. Lucky you didn't tly it any harder. But what all includes is also air. And air an also fill things, you know."

Draco understood, "So the centre of the ring was already filled full of air!"

"Yes. Move the air outside of the circle."

Draco concentrated on the air and it moved out in a great gush, scattering the dirt everywhere. He frowned, and made the air move out upwards. Suddenly there was a strong pull towards the circle and massive amounts of dirt came whizzing into the circle. Draco found himself almost hugging a pile of grime. He quickly broke the circle and stared.

"What was that?"

"When you take out air from a space, it becomes nothing. It is called a vacuum. The wold likes to keep itself in balance, so it lushes into fill that emptiness. And if you keep taking the air out, only things that are not air can fill it."

An annoyed screech from inside the massive pile of dirt, and the Sensei peered at it.

"And that includes doxies," she said and pulled out a struggling pest, which she put into a glass container that she returned into her sleeve.

"Now, what shall we do with all this dirt?" she said.

"Oh, I have an idea." Draco smiled, relishing the success.

Pranayama is a technique used in e.g. yoga to control the energies of the body by more active breathing.

Mágua is the Chinese translation of Muggle. Má numb/paralysed and guamelon/gourd and by extension head/brain. Points to the Chinese translator of the Potters.