Draco

"D'you think it's too late to try for a N.E.W.T. in Divination?" Nott asked as he tossed down his quill. "At this point, I don't particularly care how the Chaldean method indicated the absence of significance of the number nine in magical Hebrew culture." When silence greeted his rant, he balled up a scrap piece of parchment and pelted it across the table. "Malfoy!"

The blond man looked up from a book opened next to his Arithmancy text. "What?"

"What are you reading? Why aren't you working on Arithmancy?"

"You're the one who bothered me for weeks to research wandlore. I'm researching wandlore."

"You can't get a N.E.W.T. in wandlore. Help me with Arithmancy. How did the Chaldean method show the relationship between the number nine and Hebrew-based spells?"

"I don't care."

Nott sighed and closed his book. "Neither do I. What's next on the list? Have you decided what you're going to go for?"

Draco shook his head. "It all depends on if I can get this wand to work with me consistently or not. Astronomy, of course. My mother will have a fit if she comes back and I didn't get an Outstanding in Astronomy. Transfiguration and Charms if I can. Arithmancy and History of Magic if I can't."

"What about Ancient Runes?"

"Yeah, probably that too."

"Herbology?"

"I'll leave growing my Potions ingredients to Sprout," Draco said. "What about you?"

"Transfiguration, Charms, and Ancient Runes. I'll sit for Arithmancy, too, but just as a back-up. And maybe Herbology. I'll grow your Potions ingredients and you'll make my potions." Nott had caved to taking the Dreamless Sleep potions twice a week, and he looked a world better for it.

Draco grunted. "That's a fair trade, I s'pose." He waved at the book on wandlore. "What do you make of this? 'Veela hair is a rare core found in mid-European wands that leans towards mischief, stubbornness, and flamboyance. It most commonly prefers a female touch, but may become loyal to males who have a natural talent with Charms.' That could describe Weasley's wand, right? All of that joke stuff the Weasley twins did fifth year was mostly Charm-work."

Nott shook his head. "Ollivander doesn't use Veela hair, and there's no way the Weasleys went anywhere else for their wands."

"I'm surprised they had enough money to go to Ollivander," Draco muttered. "Maybe it's a knockoff."

"Vermiculus," Nott said, pointing his wand at Draco's quill. It immediately transformed into worms.

Draco screamed in a range slightly higher than he would ever admit to and jumped back from the table. "What was that for?"

"Jinx me," Nott answered.

"What?"

"Jinx me. You know you want to."

"I'll hex you into next Tuesday."

Nott gave him a look. "I didn't say 'hex'. I said 'jinx'."

Draco squinted at his friend. "I don't know what game you're playing—"

"Oppugno." The worms began flying at Draco's head.

Draco toppled backward out of the chair and swore loudly. "You're going to get it, Nott!"

Nott sprung lightly to his feet and skipped out of the library. "You'll have to catch me first!"

Draco chased his roommate out to the back garden. "Locomotor wibbly!" he shouted. The spell hit its target and Nott fell over, hanging onto the birdbath for support.

"Tarantallegra!" Draco's feet began dancing a wild jig. He cursed again as he had a flashback to being twelve years old, up against bloody Potter in the joke of a Duelling Club.

"Finite incantatem," he said, pointing his wand to his legs.

Nott had also countered his impediment and stood facing Draco with a wild grin. "Ready?"

The men threw a dozen jinxes at each other, ducking and laughing as the spells hit their intended targets. Within ten minutes, Draco had lost all his hair while Nott was sprouting petunias from his ears.

A flash of light headed for Draco and, fearing something worse than losing his precious locks, he threw up a Shield Charm. The spell ricocheted and the birdbath was again blown to pieces.

Nott clapped and laughed, the flowers on the side of his head quivering. "Brilliant!"

"You look ridiculous," Draco said.

Nott plucked a flower from his ear and tucked it into his hair. "You're one to talk. I can see why the Malfoy men keep their hair long. Your head looks deformed."

"I swear to God, I'll get you again. Another Jelly-Legs Jinx? Or maybe I'll transfigure those petunias into cacti."

"Malfoy. How does the wand feel?"

The bald man looked down at his hand with surprise. "Natural," he answered. "How did—"

"You reading about the Veela hair gave me an idea. Weasley was a mischievous fellow, so I thought maybe his wand likes mischief." Nott removed the flower from his hair and held it out to Draco. "It appears I was right."

"I don't want your earwax-covered flora," Draco said, swatting the flower to the ground without malice. "You know, I haven't played like that since I was eleven. Not really. Not without intending to do some permanent damage."

"Maybe you'll be good for each other, then."

"You talk about it like it's supposed to be my friend or something. It's not a sentient being."

"And here I thought you were maybe starting to understand." Nott sighed and disappeared the petunias from his ears. "Someday, Malfoy, you might finally understand the bond between a wizard and his wand. It appears today is not that day."

"I thoroughly understand the bond between a wizard and his wand," Draco cackled.

"I see you've also rediscovered your eleven-year-old self's sense of humour." Nott muttered the Hair-Lengthening Jinx and Draco felt the uncomfortable sensation of his platinum hair bursting from his skin. "You're going to look remarkably like your mother in about ninety seconds."

"Finite incantatem," Draco said. The spell shot from the wand but did nothing. His hair passed his shoulders. "Why didn't it work? We were getting along two minutes ago!"

Nott grinned. "Ah, yes. You see, finite incantatem doesn't work on this particular variation of the jinx."

"You—"

"Delightful ray of sunshine?"

"You bring shame upon the Noble House of Hufflepuff!" And Draco charmed Nott's robes back to the brilliant yellow they had been before Zabini left for school.

"Well, your impressive understanding of wandlore is clearly a credit to the Noble House of Ravenclaw." Draco's robes faded to a deep blue. "Not."

A furious battle of Charms later, the Zabini garden looked like a multi-colored hailstorm had destroyed the entire thing. A Levitation Charm gone awry lifted an entire row of potted lilies and deposited them onto the gabled roof, where they slid off and crashed to the ground. Another Charm suggested the scattered remains of the poor birdbath had been painted an alarming shade of orange.

A few of the Charms hit their intended victims. Nott's hair now stood as if pulled up by invisible balloons. Draco couldn't stop smiling, and every attempt to pull his face into a scowl caused his lips to widen.

"I hate you," Draco said.

"I'm your best friend and you know it."

The arrival of a large eagle owl interrupted their banter. Lancelot had been gone for nearly a week, probably enjoying the familiarity of Hogwarts while he awaited Zabini's next letter.

Draco brushed his waist-length hair behind his shoulders, opened the letter and immediately snickered before handing it to his roommate. Nott groaned at the opening line.

THEODORE ATTICUS NOTT, HOW DID YOU NOT TELL ME ABOUT THE MUGGLE-BORNS? I HAD TO HEAR ABOUT IT FROM NEVILLE 'I-KILLED-THE-GIANT-BLOODY-SNAKE' LONGBOTTOM OF ALL PEOPLE.

It might interest you to know that because of your and DAPHNE'S (yes, I know about her too) little foray into Gryffindor-like tendencies, your ex-girlfriend is now dating a Hufflepuff. A Muggle-born Hufflepuff with a lamed leg. I'm pretty sure he's one of them that was Petrified during second year.

I will put all of this aside for now, but I expect a full explanation when I see you next.

As for your classwork, I've managed to enlist some unexpected help. Thanks to Daphne, the Slytherins are now on speaking terms with the rest of the school. I've been able to pass off your essays to Granger, of all people, under the guise of needing guidance for my own studies. Thankfully neither of you are completely daft, and she's had to make very few corrections to your work.

I've sent a list of your next assignments. Complete them by Thursday and send them back with Lancelot. He seems to prefer the Owlery over the cottage.

Sincerely, Blaise

"A HUFFLEPUFF?" Nott demanded.

"At least she's consistent," Draco replied, gesturing to Nott's yellow robes.

"Which Hufflepuff got Petrified?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You can't expect me to remember the name of every idiot we went to school with."

"Getting Petrified was kind of a big deal. Was he the one with the ridiculous name? Farkley-French or something?"

"Finch-Fletchley," Draco corrected.

Nott smirked. "I knew you remembered."

"You're intolerable." An uncomfortable feeling rose in Draco's chest, but he pushed it down until it settled into a sense of unease in his stomach. "Speaking of intolerable, why the hell would he get Granger involved? She'll figure it out when she realizes Zabini is passing off essays with three different handwritings."

"We'll have to trust Blaise." Nott began shooting Mending Charms every which way around the garden, until it began looking respectable again. Draco noted with dry amusement that the birdbath remained orange.

They were sitting down at their table in the library when Draco made a decision he'd been dreading. "We need to go into Muggle France," he said without ceremony.

Nott's quill paused mid-scratch as he gave Draco an astonished look. "What? Where did that come from?"

"I know you want to trust Zabini, but Granger... If she figures out he's been harbouring us, we're going to need to run. We need a plan for when that day comes."

"And you think going into Muggle France is going to help? How?"

"Integrating myself into the Muggle world was my contingency plan. Well, if I'm going to do that, we need to know how to navigate said Muggle world."

"What do you mean 'we'?"

"Granger, Nott. He's showing our work to Hermione-bloody-Granger." Draco rubbed his head with an open palm. "We've gotten too complacent here anyway. One hint in the Daily Prophet that we're hiding out in France and that'll be it. How long before they realize one of our classmates has a house here?"

"Malfoy, you're overreacting. Blaise isn't going to get us caught."

"You don't know that. Read between the lines, Nott. This is just another way of letting us know that our lives rest in his hands. One 'accidental' slip up to Granger and suddenly Wonder Boy and Spattergroit show up at our doorstep with arrest warrants."

Nott frowned. "If he 'slips up,' that'll implicate him, though."

"Not if he says we Imperius'd him. And who would you believe? The man who went back to Hogwarts with a clean reputation or two second-generation Death Eaters? One of whom managed to Imperius someone for nearly ten months." Draco stared at the Ancient Runes textbook on the desk with unseeing eyes. "We'll have to hide in Muggle France. Paris?"

"Are you kidding?" Nott snorted. "We'd be safer in London. Paris is teeming with magic. The French wizarding community is centralized there, and it's at least ten times the size of Britain's. If—if—you weren't just being paranoid and the people of Wizarding France knew to look for us, we'd be recognized instantly."

"Fine, fine, not Paris. Versailles?"

Nott's annoyed look deepened. "No. No Paris. No Versailles. No Bordeaux. No Lyon. No Toulouse—"

"You're naming every major metropolitan in the country. Name places we can go, you prat."

"I don't know where we can go!" Nott yelled. For the second time in a month, Draco saw his friend's carefree exterior crack. "And I don't really want to go into the Muggle world. I'm just the same as you. I don't know where we'll be safe. I don't know where to hide. This—trusting Blaise—is the best I've got. I don't know everything, Malfoy. You need to start figuring some of this out yourself."

"I'm not asking you to—"

"When you showed up here in June, the closest you'd ever come to a stove was your cauldron. You couldn't untransfigure that damn trunk of yours for three weeks. You'd never been shopping for necessities. You had Blaise arrange your affairs with Gringotts and that Swiss bank. You've never done a damn thing for yourself."

Resentment and offence overcame Draco. "Is that really what you think? That I'm just this spoiled, rich prat who's entirely incapable of succeeding?"

"Every time a new challenge comes up, your first instinct is to let someone else handle it. Not even 'let'. You make someone else handle it. Blaise, with your money and your housing. Me, with the shopping and the cleaning and the cooking. We're not your goddamn house-elves, Malfoy."

"I'm well aware you're not house-elves!" Draco sneered. "House-elves don't talk back—"

"Really? That's your answer? Not 'I'm sorry I've made you feel this way for five months and I promise to do better'? 'House-elves don't talk back.' You're just—"

"What got into you?" Draco demanded. "We were just fine three minutes ago!"

Nott shut his mouth and took several deep breaths through his nose before speaking again. His voice was strong and clear, so unlike the lofty tones he normally used. "You've been like this ever since we were kids. Expecting people to do things for you." Draco began to protest and Nott gave an exhausted wave of his wand. "Silencio." The blond glared at him but knew better than to attempt the counter-charm. There was a ninety-five percent chance that Weasley's wand would side with Nott.

"You are not an easy person to be around, Draco Malfoy. You're not an easy person to like, either, but I do. I think there's something redeemable behind that pampered, bigoted, generally foul armour you have. So does Blaise, even if he'd never admit it. And I can't blame you for being paranoid about all of this, because I am too. But when you start casting doubt on the one person who's gone above and beyond to help you, you've gone too far.

"You have no one to run home to anymore. Your mother and father aren't around to protect you, and that was your choice. Not theirs. It was your choice to be alone, and if you ever cast doubt on Blaise's intentions again, you will be entirely alone. Are we understood?" He removed the Silencing Charm.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "That entire outburst was because I insinuated that Zabini has ulterior motives? He's a Slytherin! If I were in his shoes, I'd be doing the exact same thing."

"No, you wouldn't." Nott's golden eyes met Draco's silver in a battle of ill-kept tempers. "I'm not saying that as a credit to your character, because I believe you are entirely capable of betraying the people who trust you. You couldn't do what Blaise is doing because Granger would never help you. Silencio. You're missing something fundamental in your soul, Malfoy.

"You need to work on your trust and loyalty. And don't give me that look, like I'm some bloody daft Hufflepuff for saying the word loyalty. Being Sorted into Slytherin doesn't make you devoid of the characteristics of the other Houses. You would hardly be a person if all you had were Slytherin traits.

"I think you've put so much stock, so much pride, into being a Slytherin that you've done yourself a great disservice. Now you're considering running off into the Muggle world—which makes me think you've literally gone mad—, and do you know what the Muggles don't care about? What bloody House you were in at your magic school."

Through the entire lecture, Draco fought back from launching himself straight across the table to fight Nott. He might have been mute, but there were other ways to fight than with words.

"Incarcerous." Ropes flew from the end of Nott's wand and bound Draco to the chair before he could make a move. Nott spoke a series of other incantations Draco didn't recognize before standing up and packing away his books. "Beyond hiding behind your House, you also hide behind the name of Malfoy. Your name means nothing anymore. There is no pride in being a Malfoy, what with your entire family on the run, just like there is no pride in being a Nott. Our fathers screwed us out of a future, Draco, and I don't want to be associated with it anymore. From here on out, you're Draco and I'm Theo and fuck the men that took our familial pride away from us.

"I don't want to go into the Muggle world, Draco, but I will go with you because that's the kind of friend I am. However, you will do all of the research necessary to make sure we can fit in. In addition, the names of the Hogwarts Houses are now Taboo. If you speak any of them, you will wake up flat on your back with a blinding headache."

He made it to the door of the library, leaving Draco still magically gagged, bound, and fuming. "Oh, and the enchantments on you will break once you decide to agree to my terms. And I like waffles for breakfast."

How dare that man accuse the Malfoy name of weakness. Even if his father's actions had been a dark stain on the Malfoy legacy, Draco would do his best to rebuild it once this was all over. If it was ever over. He ignored the tug in his chest that begged him to acknowledge the truth in Nott's—Theo's—words.

Draco (futilely) channelled his energy into trying non-verbal, wandless magic, but the desperate need to attend the toilet finally broke his resolve several hours later. As he began to decide how to attack this latest problem (including how the hell he was supposed to make waffles), his thoughts kept wandering back to Theo's casual, unpredictable use of jinxes and hexes. Perhaps Zabini wasn't the one he needed to worry about after all.