It doesn't surprise Draco when they arrive on the poorly lit street lined with shabby-looking brick houses to see that it's also been raining. It's been years since he's been to Cokeworth – more specifically, Spinner's End – and seeing the familiar old house, only lit by the moonlight, brings back the memory of practically hanging off his father's legs, afraid to enter the scary building. At five years old, he'd begged Lucius to let him come along, wanting to see where 'Sevy' lived. Looking back, his father probably gave in, knowing Draco would be scared and quickly drop the habit of wanting to go wherever his father went.
He didn't drop the habit.
It wasn't until Draco showed signs of magic that he returned to the scary house. His parents sent him away for a few weeks every summer to live with Snape for tutoring. Lucius wanted to ensure Draco would be at the top of his class and thus was introduced to the Hogwarts curriculum a few years early. Unfortunately, Snape was often cold towards Draco, clearly not a willing participant in having a snot-nosed brat running around and stomping through his garden where much of his ingredients grew.
Even so, all the tutoring in the world and being away from home for a few weeks each summer hadn't prepared Draco for when his Hogwarts letter had finally come – along with the reality he'd be leaving his mother for months. Leading up to his eleventh birthday, Draco would continually ask his mother about the Wizarding school, wondering if the beds were comfortable, among other things. But most importantly, what to do if he got lost. It was easy enough to get turned around in his own home, having to ask the grumpy portraits of his ancestors to give him directions. He knew Hogwarts was not only unfamiliar but even bigger than Malfoy Manor, making him feel overwhelmed at the thought of having to live in a new place without his mother.
…
5 June 1991
"What's this for?" asks Draco. He'd already opened all his birthday presents and Hogwarts letter earlier that day, so seeing his mother sitting on the edge of his bed, handing him another gift, confused him.
"This is from me," his mother smiles. "Your father picked out all your other gifts. I wanted to get you something too."
Draco smiles as he begins to carefully tear the shiny green wrapping paper. "A book?" he questions.
"Not just any book," says Narcissa as she turns the thick item over so he can read the title.
"Hogwarts: A History," he reads, slightly disappointed she got him a boring history book.
"This has everything you need to know about your school. Not just history, but the layout – where different corridors lead –" his mother gives a sly grin. "Secret passages." Draco's face instantly lights up as he begins to flip through the pages. "Not only will you be at the top of your class, you might even know your way around better than a third year," she chuckles.
"Better than a fifth year," says Draco excitedly. "Read with me?" he asks, knowing his mother will say yes. Of course, his usual request is the same book about dragons they've read every night for as long as he can remember – but he's eleven now. And in a few short weeks, he'll officially be a Hogwarts student and shouldn't be reading baby books anymore. Draco's smile slips off when another reality hits.
No more bedtime stories.
Narcissa takes his hand when she sees his expression. "Even if I can't be with you in the flesh, Draco. Know that I'm always right here," she says as she places her other hand over his heart. "You'll be fine," she reassures before kissing him on the cheek.
"I'm not scared," Draco says, embarrassed that she's figured him out, as his chest constricts. "I'm not scared," he repeats, now looking away. "I don't like this," he finally says.
"Don't like what, my darling?" says his mother as she brushes his hair, gently moving his face so he has to look at her.
"Leaving you. I know you like to read me stories before bed. I don't want you to be sad when I'm not here. Who will you read to?" He tries to say it cheekily, but it comes out warbled as his lip trembles.
"I can read to the peacocks," smiles his mother, causing him to giggle. "Move over," she adds. Draco doesn't hesitate as he moves from the middle of the bed, allowing his mother to climb in. Draco smiles, feeling so special, sharing his secret bond with his favourite person in the world. He doubts even his father has seen this side of her. The easy smile just for him, her jokes and her casual laugh. Not to mention her hidden passion for Muggle cleaning methods. She spent an entire evening explaining to an enraptured Draco how hoovers sucked up all the dirt and things that collect on Muggle floors.
Narcissa wraps an arm around Draco as he lays his head on her shoulder. "Hogwarts: A History by Bathilda Bagshot," she begins. Draco knows the dragon book will always have a place in his heart – but he might have just found his new favourite book.
...
"Are you going to warn me if Sev added any wards I should know about?" says Draco as he approaches the front door.
"I promise your skin won't melt if you cross the threshold if that's what you're asking. Quit being so dramatic," retorts Ron annoyedly.
"Dramatic?" says Draco in exasperation as he whirls around to face the ginger. "My skin nearly did melt off my foot when you took me to Granger's shitty childhood–"
"Malfoy."
Draco squints his eyes shut before opening them and puts on a sardonic smile as he turns around. "Granger," he says, seeing her standing in the open door, eyebrow quirked and hand on her hip. "You shrunk," he states – like an idiot - seeing she's shorter than he remembered as he stands right in front of her.
"No – you grew," Granger corrects as she steps forward. And for a confusing second, he thinks she's going to greet him with a fucking hug, but then she moves past him and, of course, greets Ron with a hug.
"Hey, Hermione," Ron says into her hair, and Draco rolls his eyes as he lets himself into the home while the "we're not together anymore" couple quietly chats about blah blah blah.
The first thing that Draco notices about Snape's front room is the smell. Or – lack of smell – actually. Looking around, he can see the place is clean with new furniture and curtains. But not just any curtains. They're sheer and with lace and just girly. There's also artwork hung on the walls that has Draco wondering if Granger put Snape under some demented spell to let her decorate (desecrate) his home in such a manner.
"I like what you've done with the place, Granger. I see you've managed to bring the Muggle tradition of Oeuvres D'art Forgées to even this dump," he says sarcastically as Granger and Ron enter the room. "Van Gogh," he adds, jutting his chin to the offending piece.
"You know Muggle art?" Granger questions.
"My mother," he says, not wanting to explain further. Granger looks at him strangely, then takes a few steps forward, admiring the fake painting.
"It's not a forgery," Granger says softly while Draco looks at Ron in confusion.
"You mean to tell me that this painting of Van Gogh's Café Terrace at Night – which is covering up my favourite stain on the wall – is the original?" Draco asks incredulously. "You take Potter's cloak to acquire all this?" he says, gesturing to all the "new additions" to Spinner's End.
"This was all here before I moved in," says Granger, still looking at the painting before turning to Draco. Both she and Ron look uncomfortable, and before Draco can ask them why the fuck they're being so fucking odd, he hears Snape's familiar voice.
"Your mother made an unexpected visit."
Draco turns towards Snape, furrowing his brow. "My mother?" he says in surprise.
"Apparently, the Kröller-Müller has the forgery," Snape adds as he enters the space and looks at Granger and Weasley. "I'd like to speak to Draco privately." Granger and Weasley immediately leave the room as Draco stares at the painting before looking around, realising that all the changes in the space weren't because of Granger.
His mother had been here.
"When?" Draco asks, now reaching his hand towards the sheer fabric billowing to the floor, obscuring the warped glass of the front window. A small smile graces his lips, and he wonders if he could bring the material to his face and smell her perfume.
"Not too long before she –"
"Right," says Draco as he abruptly lets go of the fabric, forgetting Snape is watching him. "I didn't realise she came here first."
"She asked me to make her some potions. I hadn't realised at the time what her intentions were," says Snape with no emotion.
"How did she know you were alive?" asks Draco as Snape guides him to his study as he Occludes, not wanting to reveal the growing desperation to see his mother's face again.
"The Vow I made with her to watch over you," says Snape as he gestures for Draco to sit. "She would have felt the Vow's magic fade if Nagini's attack had been successful."
"Are you sure the Vow even worked?" says Draco, his bitterness towards Snape quickly surfacing. "Because your way of watching over me sixth year was utter shite."
"You're still alive," says Snape as he draws his wand. "You're Occluding now," he states.
"Yes," says Draco with no resistance, allowing Snape to abruptly change the subject, knowing arguing with a brick wall would be more productive.
"Mr Weasley's message insinuated that the disgraced Healer, Dearil Feig, thinks Occluding is causing you some issues?"
"Issues," Draco huffs under his breath. "Feig said that my constant use of Occlusion when my brain was still developing might have caused permanent damage. He asked me if I was having headaches."
"Are you?" asks Snape.
"Yes – it seems random, but – it's getting more frequent. The heavier my use of Occlusion, the worse it gets," he says honestly.
"Have you noticed any other changes? Anything about your behaviour?" asks Snape as he waves his wand over Draco's head, similar to how Feig had done. "Feeling intense bouts of emotion – suddenly acting out of character?"
"Of fucking course, I'm acting out of character!" Draco growls. "I might as well have fucking tits now that I'm the fucking Order's Au Pair. I've been dealing with fucking babies, Sev! I'm a Death Eater – a murderer. I'd like to see you take on a child against your will and be expected to care for them with no fucking clue how."
Snape narrows his eyes slightly, and Draco instantly wants to sink into the floor in mortification at the realisation that Snape did just that when Lucius forced Draco on him as a little boy. The unbidden memories of Draco's first week living at Spinner's End flood his mind as Draco tries to strengthen his Occlusion shields.
Spinner's End 1988
Draco watches as his father steps out the door to return to the manor - to his mother. Lucius had ordered Narcissa to stay home when Draco began to beg not to be sent away, not wanting to have a scene in front of Snape when they finally left him alone with the wizard.
Unfortunately, Draco still makes a scene.
He runs to his father and wraps his arms around his legs, knowing he'll be punished for acting in such a way, but he feels his heart gripped with fear and hopes his father will have mercy and take him home to his mother.
"Please don't leave," he begs. "I'll be good, I promise. I won't steal any more biscuits, and I won't fly my broom indoors. Please, father. I'll read all the books in the library and won't ask to play with Pansy anymore. Please," he continues.
"Enough," hisses Lucius. The tone in his voice has Draco backing up, now fearing what his father might do more than being left behind. "This will do you some good, Draco. You lean far too much on your mother – and she on you. You are a wizard, Draco. Not a little witch." Draco looks at the ground, trying not to cry. He can hear his father inhale deeply before touching Draco's shoulder. "You will learn to overcome your emotion, my son. This is for the best." He tilts Draco's head up. "You can't rely on anyone in this life – not even me. Find everything you need within yourself, it will protect you from pain."
With that, Draco watches as his father takes a step back and dissaparates. He wipes his face in his sleeve and slowly turns around to see Sevy standing in the doorway, looking upset. He'd overheard the wizard's argument with his father over taking Draco on for so many weeks - about how Spinner's End wasn't equipped for babies. And so, Draco tries to calm his nerves as he walks into the house, where Snape shows him the room he'll be staying in.
The rest of the day is filled with Draco silently reading rudimentary books about magic, followed by silently watching Sevy pick some plants from the garden. Which, of course, is followed by silently standing on a stool and watching the wizard brew a potion.
The sound of the bubbling cauldron and the warm heat in the room reserved for potions is somewhat soothing, and Draco thinks this is the best part of his day so far. But after eating dinner (or pretending to eat the gross food), Draco lies awake in the lumpy old bed, unable to fall asleep without his mother to tuck him in. This is his first night away from his favourite person, and the terror begins to flood his system as the old house creaks and the moonlight glowing through the dirty window casts scary shadows around the dark, musty room.
Draco pulls the scratchy blanket over his head as his mind runs rampant with all the horror stories he's heard from Crabbe and Goyle. Typically, Draco loves to listen to their made-up tales – often sharing his own. Each young wizard trying to outdo the other with how terrifying it could be. Pansy once tried to participate, but they said she'd be too scared, and it was for boys only, which led to her running away crying and them all getting in trouble.
Suddenly, there's a loud cracking noise as light flashes through the room, followed by heavy rain. Draco startles so severely that he can't help wetting himself in bed. "No," he cries, feeling instant shame. He's eight years old and just peed himself like a baby. He doesn't even remember the last time he'd wet himself and his embarrassment has him forgetting why he was scared in the first place as he scrambles out of bed and begins to rip off the sheets, not knowing what else to do.
"What is going on?" He hears Sevy say as he enters the room, looking alarmed. Draco realises he's been sobbing loudly as he tries to hide the blankets, shoving them under the bed.
"The bed is uncomfortable!" He growls in anger, hoping to make the older wizard think he's simply being a brat and not the truth that he's a scared little baby as he furiously wipes the tears from his face. "And the room smells, and the storm is too loud, and there are no curtains, and the moon is too bright!" he screams while stomping his foot. "I want to go home! I hate it here!"
Draco braces himself for how Sev will react to his whinging, but surprisingly, the wizard's anger turns into a calm, if not blank, expression as he looks Draco over. But then Draco stiffens, realising he's still wearing his soiled pyjamas as he tries to cover himself. "I–" he starts, not knowing how to explain his wet trousers. "I –"
Before he can fumble through a lie about spilling his glass of water (that doesn't exist), he sees Sevy wave his hand and feels his trousers dry. "Follow me," the older wizard says calmly, and Draco wordlessly follows the wizard with his head down as he leads him to the sitting room. "Sleep there," he says, gesturing to the sofa. Draco sits down and then eventually moves into a lying position as Snape sits in a wingback chair and pulls out a book that he begins to read under a faint light – probably some kind of charm.
Draco squirms around on the sofa, trying to get comfortable, not used to sleeping without a blanket. He hugs his skinny arms around his body and then sees a blanket floating in the air as it gently takes its place over him. He looks back over to Sevy and sees him lower his wand as he continues to read.
"Sleep," he hears him say, and Draco sees Sevy subtly looking up from the book, seeing that Draco's eyes are wide open. "Your lessons will start after breakfast."
Draco only nods as he turns over, face smooshed into the back of the sofa as he closes his eyes, pricking with tears, wishing for his mother.
…
Draco feels a headache coming on as his Occlumency finally manages to shove his memories back into their boxes where they belong. Snape is still performing diagnostic spells as he examines the effects on Draco's mind as he Occludes.
"Are you experiencing pain now?" asks Snape curiously.
"Just now, yes," says Draco feeling the discomfort increase. "Are you fucking using Legilimens?" he barks, now realising Snape moved on from a simple diagnostic spell to invading his private thoughts. The subtle probing is typically easy for Draco to block, but given the emotional distress and headache, Draco finds it harder to concentrate on his shields.
"What are you feeling now?" asks Snape, unbothered by Draco's obvious pain.
"I'm feeling fucking annoyed. Get the fuck out of my mind," he hisses.
"Can you simply nudge me out?" asks Snape curiously. "The Legilimency I'm performing is weaker than a pitiful attempt by a fifth year."
The insinuation that Draco is losing his ability to Occlude sends a rage through him. "Get the fuck out of my mind. I'm done," he says coldly, but Snape only pushes further as the pain in his head increases. He can feel his shields crumbling all around him, and the sensation, mixed with unwanted emotions, has him panicking and feeling helpless. "I said I'm done," he says again, but Snape ignores him.
Where are you going, pretty boy?
Should have known better than to wander around alone.
The full moon is in less than a fortnight – you should be grateful I'm showing restraint.
So lovely to see you cry.
You should thank me.
"Just fucking stop," Draco nearly begs, knowing the memories Snape has stumbled on. Thankfully, the bastard finally pulls out of his mind, but the sight of his unbothered pale face and Draco's sudden inability to hold his shields has his rage spilling over. "I came here for you to help me!" Draco yells. "If I wanted to be some sick experiment, I would have stuck with that cunt Feig – what the fuck was that?"
Snape calmly puts his wand away and retakes his seat behind a tidy desk. "I needed to see the extent of the damage."
"Damage?" repeats Draco. "Is– was Feig telling the truth? Do – is it permanent?" he asks as a wave of fear washes over him. The feeling of his emotions running through him unbidden has him inadvertently clutching his chest. He hasn't felt this out of control since he was a boy – which is why he began to rely on Occlusion in the first place.
"Feig might be a sadist, but he does his research. The human brain – magical or not – goes through critical stages of development. Your use of constant Occlusion since a teenager has stunted your ability to regulate emotion."
"What – what does that mean? And what does that have to do with the pain and – whatever the fuck just happened. I – my shields – they – I can't –" he tries to Occlude, but it only causes more pain.
"From what I witnessed, my initial assessment is that when you enter a heightened state of emotional discomfort – whether through physical or mental stress – your shields begin to fail. Occlumency was never intended to take over the natural ability to regulate self. Your brain is underdeveloped and resembles that of a fourteen-year-old."
"What the fuck? I'm not a child," Draco says, affronted. "What the fuck?" he repeats, growing more distressed at his lack of understanding of what's happening. "I'm not some fucking teenager," he says defensively.
"I beg to differ," drawls Snape.
"Fuck you," spits Draco as he stands, wanting nothing more than to leave. "I'm a fucking twenty-year-old man, you cunt," he adds as he moves to the door.
"Draco," begins Snape tiredly. "Your inability to even have this conversation without being hostile further proves my point. The brain is a complex organ – your emotional intelligence is that of a teenager, not your overall -" he pauses. "Maturity. The brain isn't fully developed until the age of twenty-five. If you continue to Occlude instead of learning to work through your day-to-day feelings, I'm afraid the damage will be permanent. Eventually, you'll lose your ability to Occlude altogether. The pain – the headaches – is your body trying to compensate and force you to allow your brain to develop." Snape pulls out a book and slides it across his desk.
Draco slumps back into the seat, glaring at Snape. "Since when did you become a fucking Mind Healer?" he asks angrily, reading the title 'Child Development: How Trauma Effects the Brain'. "This is Muggle," he adds, picking up the book. "Granger get you into this shite?" he says, tossing it back on the desk with a thud.
"No," says Snape. "Truthfully, I have no interest in this topic and would rather be working on some much-needed potions," he says coldly. "Miss Granger has been putting together a program for the children – the ones from the camps that are to be receiving healing at the safe house in Cumbria."
"So, what? Do you want me to learn about this so I can talk with the children about their feelings? That since I'm still a fucking child, they'll listen to me?" he asks accusingly.
"No –" starts Snape. "When Mr Weasley sent me the Patronus about your – issues – Miss Granger suggested I share this with you. She deduced within minutes what my diagnostic spells confirmed about what is happening to you. The only reason you're meeting with me instead of her is that she assumed you'd react poorly to her trying to help you."
"React poorly," Draco mutters, feeling like he's just been caught in a trap. If he were to follow his instincts that are currently screaming at him to break a few things and storm out of the room, it would only prove Granger is fucking correct. Unfortunately, the only other option of not reacting poorly – is to at least reluctantly hear Snape and the miss-know-it-all out.
"So, am I expected to just read this shite and learn how to control my emotions or whatever the fuck?" he grumbles, taking the book back in hand.
"No," says Snape. "You're in this situation because you've been controlling and forcefully suppressing your emotions. You need to learn self-regulation and only use Occlumency when your mind is being breached by a threat."
"Says the most suppressed wizard," mumbles Draco.
Snape ignores the comment as he stands. "Now," he starts as Draco stands as well. "I suggest you continue to prove Miss Granger wrong and not react poorly to what comes next." With that, Snape abruptly leaves the room as a sense of dread begins to fill Draco with what the fuck what comes next is supposed to mean.
And, of fucking course, Granger and Weasley enter the room, and he can tell by their fucking faces that they most likely heard the entire interaction. Without even a thought, Draco throws the book across the room, unable to restrain his anger.
"What the fuck, Granger?" he growls. "You don't know anything about me, you fucking bitch-"
"Whoa, Draco," begins Weasley causing Draco to glare at him.
"Don't fucking use my name like we're friends," he spits, feeling an unwanted hurt that the fucking Weasel ambushed him with all this shite.
"Malfoy," corrects the git.
"Did you know they wanted to fucking do this? I can't fucking Occlude," he continues, panicking, feeling the pain in his head increase. It's like he's witnessing himself overreacting but can do nothing to stop it.
"You overexerted yourself - just relax, and the ability will return to you," says Granger. "We're only trying to -"
"What – help?" Draco yells at the idiots as Granger silently picks the book off the floor while Weasley only sighs. Their oddly calm behaviour only fuels his rage. "You both can go fuck yourselves. Fuck Sevy - Snape too," he corrects, feeling betrayed and confused why the wizard purposely hurt him.
He asked him to stop.
Draco attempts to Occlude once more and is thankful he can somewhat put his shields up. "I'm leaving," he states as he moves past the fucking twats and storms down the corridor. When he gets to the front room, his eyes are drawn to the fucking curtains as he marches up to them and yanks them with a loud ripping noise. He hadn't meant to destroy the fabric, simply not wanting them to adorn the house of a traitor and nosy bitch.
Seeing his mother's attempt to bring life into the dank space float to the ground in shreds has Draco dropping to his knees, trying to repair the material with his wand. Unfortunately, his hands are shaking so badly that the delicate material begins to disintegrate before his eyes - utterly destroyed. "Fuck," he croaks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he cries as the guilt of what his mother's life had become crashes over him. He drops his wand and frantically grabs at the shreds as they disappear.
She'd tried to connect with Draco – alone in the manor, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. But Draco had been so far gone in his Occlusion that he ignored her. Only giving brief updates and avoiding witnessing her further deterioration, unable to handle her sorrow.
And so, she left him.
Draco never once blamed her for her decision – the catalyst that led him to the cluster fuck he's now found himself in. Completely unravelling like the fabric in his hands. The spell he used must have degraded the integrity of the antique material, as Draco can only watch in despair as the last few strings disappear into nothing but a memory. "I'm sorry," he cries. Once Draco finally finds the strength in his limbs to wipe his eyes, he sees one tiny string left over as he tentatively reaches out and grasps it between his thumb and pointer finger.
"Here."
Draco looks over and sees Granger kneeling beside him, feeling numb, while he listlessly nods as she takes the string in her hand. He knows that if he holds onto it, he'll also inevitably destroy it. Granger mutters a spell and waves her wand as she lies the string on the hardwood floor. Within seconds, the string begins to move as Draco furrows his brow, watching the confusing sight as the fabric returns, slowly reverting to its original state.
Staring dumbly, Draco reaches out a shaking hand but hovers for a second afraid to touch it.
"You can," is all he hears. Granger's voice is distant and warped as he dazedly takes hold of the curtain and brings it to his face, inhaling.
"It smells like her," Draco says softly.
"We can find a better place for it," says Granger as she stands. Draco follows suit as he delicately rolls up the curtain and holds it to his chest.
"Okay."
…
Draco sits on the sofa, clutching his mother's fabric, as Weasley and Granger quietly converse nearby. All he can do is gaze at the crackling flame in the fireplace that someone lit, not knowing how he ended up in the sitting room. It feels like he's underwater. Everything sounds and looks distorted, with strange weightlessness in his body - like he's floating around in the sea of his own mind.
He hears the words in shock and catatonic every so often, followed by emotionally shutdown. It's evident they're analysing him, but he just – doesn't care.
"Drac – Malfoy?"
Draco's gaze finally comes into focus, seeing Weasley bending down so he's somewhat eye to eye. "Do you want to return to the safe house or stay here for the night? It's nearly three in the morning." Draco takes a minute to process the words and finally nods. "Is that yes for here or the safe house?" asks Weasley tentatively.
"I – I don't know," Draco finally says. Because he doesn't know. He knows nothing.
"Fuck," mutters Weasley and Draco recoils, thinking he'd said the wrong thing.
"I'm sorry," Draco says quickly, not wanting to be in trouble.
"Uh, no–" huffs Weasley. "I'm not mad. We're just trying to figure out what to do with you," he says tiredly, and Draco flinches, knowing he's being a bother.
"Ron," says Granger exasperatedly.
"Sorry, that came out wrong. We're trying to help you."
"Draco," comes Granger's voice. Hearing her say his name is strange, and he wonders if she's mad. But she didn't use his full name like mother does when he's in trouble. So maybe it's not because she's mad. "Do you know where you are?" she asks, now kneeling in front of the sofa so he can see her face.
He tentatively looks around, taking in the space before looking back at Granger. "Sevy's."
"Okay – good," she says, glancing at Weasley. "How–" she starts, looking unsure. "How old are you?"
Draco furrows his brow, wondering why she's asking. He opens his mouth to speak but then feels more confused. "I –" he slinks back into the sofa, clutching the fabric tighter. "I don't know," he says with wide eyes looking back at the woman with the crazy hair.
"It's okay, I was just curious," she smiles, then looks at the tall man with a beard. "It might be best for you both to stay here for the moment," she says as Draco reaches his hand out to touch her strange hair.
"It's so fluffy," Draco laughs.
"Is this permanent?" the man says quietly.
"I don't think so – I think the overwhelm was too much, and he needs some time to process while feeling safe enough to cope with the onslaught of emotion."
Draco's eyes grow heavy as he yawns while the adults talk about things he doesn't understand.
"Come on," says the ginger man, gesturing for Draco to follow. The kind lady walks behind them as they enter the small bedroom. Draco immediately goes to the bed feeling exhausted as he rips off his shoes and robes, climbing under the blankets in just his pants. He holds the soft fabric that smells like his mother and wonders if she's having a good time on her holiday in France. The thought of her so far away has him crying into the fabric as sleep overtakes him.
…
"Fuck me," groans Draco feeling ragged as he returns to consciousness. His limbs feel heavy as he moves to his side and reflexively reaches for the stupid curtains. "What the fuck," he says in shock when he's met with not only the soft fabric but the soft curves of a bushy-haired witch asleep right next to him. "Fucking fuck, Granger, what the fuck?" he snaps, yanking his arm back. "Take me to dinner first, fuck," he huffs in confusion, wondering what the fuck happened the night before as the witch blinks her eyes open.
"As long as I can come too – I'm starving," comes a manly voice from the other side of the bed. Draco jolts as he pushes into a seated position and slams his back against the headboard.
"What the actual fuck?" says Draco in horror to see Ron fucking Weasley comfortably lying beside him in the bed as well. "This – what? What the fuck?"
"Never thought I'd say I'm glad to have you back, Malfoy," laughs Weasley as he sluggishly moves off the bed. "You said - er - you had a scary nightmare and didn't want to sleep alone."
Draco looks around in confusion as Granger also pushes out of bed. Both Gryffindor's still wearing the clothes from yesterday while Draco quickly pulls up the blankets, realising he's in only his pants. "EXPLAIN," he says, still horrified and not understanding a fucking thing that's happening and hoping to Morgana the Order isn't also some secret sex cult that he's finally been initiated into under some seriously dubious circumstances.
"You – sort of went into shock. Had a bit of regression as your mind tried to cope with complex emotions. I suspect when you feel things you can't categorise as simply anger, fear, or another base emotion, you shut down," says Granger as she smooths out her hair and straightens her rumpled clothing.
"Mhmm," says Draco, eyeing his childhood enemies warily and wondering if this is some seriously twisted way of getting back at him. "Well – at least one of us is having a great start to their day. It's been less than five minutes, and you've already gotten a lecture in," he says, looking around the room wondering where his fucking robes are. "I can happily inform you both that I'm fully aware of my surroundings, so you both can fuck off to go fuck each other or whatever you do when not ambushing people with their trauma," he says, eyeing the bloody Muggle book on the side table.
"We didn't intend –" begins Granger, looking fucking upset. "We didn't think you'd react so poorly to the information. I thought–"
"React poorly?" Draco interrupts.
"I meant have an adverse reaction," she clarifies, like it makes things any better.
"Are you fucking insane? Granger, I hate to break it to you, but you are the most fucking idiotic swot ever to grace this fucking world with your terribly ill-thought-out good intentions. I'm not some fucking House Elf you can throw a hideous knit cap at thinking you're helping me. What were you going to do next? Invite Greyback here to read me a bedtime story? I don't need your help, you fucking Mudblood cunt," he seethes.
"Malfoy," snaps Weasley. "Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters. "Hermione – leave him be. It's not worth trying to get him to understand. I don't think he's capable." Draco glares at them both as Granger quietly walks past Weasley and exits the room.
"Also, you fucking pissed the bed last night, Malfoy," says Weasley mockingly. "Hermione made me promise not to say anything because she didn't want to embarrass you, but -whoops, guess I forgot." Draco only scowls as Weasley abruptly slams the door shut.
Once he's alone, Draco slumps back in the bed, putting his hand over his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. He immediately Occludes and - thank fucking Godric- can do so easily as he closes his eyes, settling into the familiar numbness he's been accustomed to for years. After a few minutes, he opens his eyes, deciding to burn Granger's Muggle book as soon as he's confident his anger won't burn the entire house down. But then he looks to his left and sees his mother's fabric, and suddenly the memory of Granger restoring the precious material after he destroyed it returns to him.
He reaches his hand to grab the lace curtain but stops and looks at the closed bedroom door as a sinking feeling creeps past his shields. Maybe Granger isn't the one who has been ruining everything.
Maybe it's him.
…
After sitting in the bedroom for another thirty minutes, blankly staring at the wall, Draco finally emerges, ready (not really) to face the aftermath of destroying whatever potential civility might have been between the others. Because that's what it feels like. He's notone of them. He's simply a means to an end, and whatever amicable truce formed between himself and the Weasleys is most likely burned to ash, knowing they'd offer him up on a silver platter before they'd ever take his side over Granger's.
When he enters the front room, he can feel the palpable awkwardness as Granger and Weasley stop in mid-discussion and watch him like he's some kind of wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. The thought that they're pitying rather than angry makes him nearly repeat his actions. But, instead of destroying more delicate bridges or precious family heirlooms, he takes a few steps and hands the curtain back to Granger. "Keep it safe," is all he says, looking past her at another stain on the wall before backing up.
Granger doesn't react other than a slight nod. Running a hand through his hair, Draco finally looks her in her fucking big brown eyes, and the urge to throttle the insufferable witch for making him feel so utterly off-kilter has him glancing back at Weasley. Nope – the damned wizard has the same fucking effect, as Draco has an out-of-body experience looking to Ronald Weasley for some kind of stability. "I'm –" Draco starts, looking at the ground as he puts up his shields before looking back at Granger. "I'm sorry for calling you a Mudblood and a – cunt," he says, glad his mother hadn't been in the room to hear him.
"Wasn't expecting that," mutters Weasley. The ginger straightens and then looks at Draco pointedly. "When you say you're sorry for calling Hermione a Mudblood – is this a blanket apology, or are you specifically referring to what just happened?"
"Ron," says Granger warningly.
"I'm just curious," Ron laughs, and Draco relaxes infinitesimally, seeing the Weasel returning to their odd fondness of taking the piss with each other. "I want to know if I'm witnessing Draco Malfoy finally apologising to Hermione Granger for his years of –"
"RON," says Granger angrily.
"It's fine, Granger," sighs Draco. "He'd leave a man behind," he adds, smirking at the Weasel, causing Granger to look between the two wizards in confusion, clearly unaware of their history – much more recent history, that is. "Truthfully, I have no fucking clue what I'm apologising for – I –" he shakes his head. "Granger, you fucking– you, just –" he takes a breath. "I'm still furious about what you had Snape do to me. And I know – fuck– I know you didn't intend to have whatever the fuck fit I had happen - but it did. And I lashed out at you because I fucking hate this."
"You have every right to be angry with me. I–"
"And that right there!" Draco says exasperatedly. "What the fuck is that? Just fucking yell at me or something. Don't patronise me like this. I don't want your fucking pity, Granger. Maybe I am acting like a fucking child, but fuck– don't fucking treat me like one."
"Draco –" says Granger sadly.
"And stop using my name! It's – weird. I don't like it," he snaps.
"Malfoy," says Granger. "I'm – we're not treating you like a child. We're treating you like a human being." Granger's words have Draco looking at her bewildered. "Do you think that having your emotions validated means we think you're a child?" she asks hesitantly as Draco bristles, but she holds her hand up. "And before you lash out, I'm not asking because I care about your feelings. I'm asking for research purposes," she adds.
Draco knows she's lying, but he can see she's purposely being more hostile, which is oddly more comfortable for him. Even so, he still hates every second and wants to leave. "Honestly," he says, looking between her and Weasley. "I really just want to stop talking about this. This is worse than being Crucio'd."
"Fair enough," nods Granger. "Before you leave –" she waves her hand, and a fucking stack of parchments appears. "I wrote down some things you can do to help abstain from Occluding when unnecessary. Obviously, you'll need to taper off as you might overwhelm yourself again with–"
"Hermione," comes Weasley's voice, and Draco could kiss the man for ending Granger's rant, which is overwhelming enough for Draco to revert back to a fucking fetus if he has to hear her lecture him about – well – him.
"Right," Granger says stiffly, handing him her notes. "We can discuss more in a month to see if this helps and go from there. It's important that you can still effectively Occlude, given your role."
"You mean how I'm a nanny?" Draco snorts, tucking the parchment under his arm, intending to throw them in the bin as soon as Granger isn't looking.
"I mean, as a spy infiltrating Voldemort's ranks," Granger says. Her tone is so cold he feels an actual shiver run down his spine, understanding the reality of what could happen if the Dark Lord were to break him. "You may feel like the Order has put you in a position meant to demean you, Malfoy. But right now, you're the only hope we have to save as many children as possible. If we lose you, Ron cannot continue the ruse alone."
The sobering reality hits Draco in the gut as he thinks of all the little monsters back at the bothy, feeling simultaneously better and worse about his role.
Maybe he should take a look at Granger's notes.
…
"Draco!" yells Paul as Draco steps through the door with Weasley on his heels. After the eventful time at Spinner's End, Draco is only slightly surprised with how relieved he is to be back in the cramped space with a crying baby and children running around.
"Paul," smiles Draco, still clutching the parchments from Granger. "Maisie," he nods, seeing the girl sitting beside Paul and drawing.
"Paul is really good at drawing," says Maisie. "He's giving me tips on how to improve."
"They've been very helpful with the boys, too," adds Molly as she bounces Anaka up and down, trying to get the baby to calm down. "This one's fighting a nap."
"Having flashbacks, mum?" laughs Ron as he approaches the still-nameless boys while they play with the wooden animals Draco made for them.
"Oh, this does take me back," Molly chuckles. "Only, anything is easier than raising Fred and George," she says, voice taking on a bittersweet tone. "Draco, we're waiting on some more supplies – would you –"
"I can get some things from the manor," Draco says, and Molly smiles at him. "I'll be back – Ron," he calls, knowing he can't risk being summoned without his "Team Lead." After some protesting from Paul, Ron follows Draco out of the safe house.
Within twenty minutes, they successfully raid the kitchen and return with other essential items. The sun is still high in the sky, and Draco knows that he needs to prepare for the summons, which could happen at any moment. He and Ron devise an agreed-upon account for their report, and Draco takes the rest of his "free time" to review Granger's notes.
Sitting in the grass, he unfolds the parchment as he struggles to decipher the witch's atrocious handwriting. Something about breathing techniques or some shite and other things he skims through. "Fuck, Granger," he mutters, flipping through the pages and pages of anything from getting over minor inconveniences to working through whatever a "panic attack" is. "You write just like Potter," he huffs, thinking back to the fucking git's analysis of him.
Draco's eyes widen as he quickly grabs Regulus' journal and opens to the first page to compare the handwriting. "No," he says. "Fucking Granger," he growls, feeling oddly violated. The fucking swot is the one who has been studying him for fuck knows how long. No wonder she already had assumptions about what was happening to him. Draco continues to flip further through the journal stopping at a long note in the margin flowing sideways and all around the journal entry.
Harry mentioned overhearing Draco talking on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of sixth year. A young wizard following a madman under the delusions of future glory…
"Fucking bitch," Draco hisses as he slams the journal shut, unable to read the rest. Without thinking, Draco apparates to Spinner's End and pounds on the front door. "Open up, Granger!" he yells angrily before calming down slightly. "I know you're there, Granger – I've come to apologise to you for all the mean things I've said and done to you," he says mockingly. After a few moments, the door opens, and of course, it's fucking Snape. "Where is she?" he growls.
"I believe her room –"
Draco storms past Snape, goes to his old room, and bursts through the door. Granger gasps as she pulls the blanket over her body, probably in the middle of changing or something. He doesn't give a shite.
"What is this?" Draco yells, holding up the journal. "What the fuck, Granger? Am I some kind of morbid amusement for you? Now you get to further investigate my fucked-up mind?"
Granger looks confused until her eyes widen in recognition as he throws the journal on the bed. "Go fuck yourself, Granger," he spits. "You think I followed a madman because I wanted fucking glory? I didn't give a fuck about glory, you bitch!" he yells, feeling his anger bubbling to the surface. He knows it's not the blasted witch's fault, but he needs to let it out, and Granger has always been an easy target. "I took the Dark Mark because I was a fucking idiot who wanted to make his father proud. I hated Voldemort. I know Potter thinks I was bragging, but I wasn't about to tell my friends the fucking truth. I don't regret breaking his fat nose either," he huffs.
"Malfoy, you don't understand," she begins.
"Don't understand?" he says incredulously. "You think I don't understand? Granger, I was fucking terrified. I was so stressed my stomach was in knots all the fucking time. I couldn't eat without immediately vomiting. I had to wear my robes from third fucking year because nothing else fit me with all the weight I lost."
"I-" Granger starts, but Draco doesn't stop. He wants her to know - needs her to know just how utterly wrong she is for once in her fucking life.
"And your assumptions about Greyback were right," he says coldly, and Granger's eyes get glassy, causing him to look away. "Did you know the Dark Lord had Greyback send me owls to Hogwarts? They'd purposely send my mother's owl to make me think I was getting letters from her, only to have it be him telling me what would happen if I didn't complete my task. How he described all the ways he was going to torture me while my mother watched, and then they'd kill her in front of me before the Dark Lord finally finished me off himself."
"Malfoy –"
"I spent every night in that fucking cursed room working on that fucking cabinet, trying to mend it. And I slept there, not because it was convenient but because I couldn't stop waking up screaming from terrible nightmares. To the point, I started wetting the fucking bed, Granger. I was fucking sixteen and wetting the bed. So, yeah - it was glorious being in the service of the Dark Lord. Such a fucking honour. Ten out of ten."
Draco finally looks back at Granger, who somehow managed to change into her fucking clothes without him realising. He feels oddly calm after finally fucking telling someone, even just a little, about his personal hell. Draco then realises he's calmed down and not even Occluding. He's literally just feeling numb.
"Harry mentioned overhearing Draco talking on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of sixth year. A young wizard following a madman under the delusions of future glory," Granger reads from the journal. "I'm assuming you stopped there," she says, looking at Draco before returning to the journal. "I think Harry is wrong. I don't think Voldemort's promises of glory are what drive most of his followers. I think he preys on the young – those looking for a place to belong. And then, he uses fear and intimidation to keep them under his thumb. I think he –" She falters as she clears her throat. "I think he operates his cult through grooming and brainwashing. I believe he condones the sexual coercion and abuse amongst his ranks because his best chance and creating his perfect Death Eater - those who will be ruthless enough to carry out his will - is to destroy their soul."
"Fuck you," chokes Draco, not in anger but because he can feel the tidal wave of confusing emotions about to wipe out every stronghold and structure that he'd built around his heart for protection. And so, aside from Occluding, he does the only other thing he knows to do to guard himself against being swept out to sea with nothing to hold onto.
He runs.
Before Granger can say anything, Draco dissaparates.
