It took another three days before everything was ready.
The evening of the third found Draco sitting cross legged on the worn carpet of Lupin's living room, back against the sofa and surrounded by papers and books. He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyelids and tried to tune back in what must have been the hundredth delineation of Muggle's customs for that evening alone, but his mind kept wandering adrift.
He waved his wand lazily over a hardback copy of "Muggles for Dummies: 1000 easy tips to blend seamlessly into their world", watching as page after page ripped off its bind and started folding neatly into origami cranes. Only when a modest fleet of paper birds was circling around him, he realised the other man had stopped talking.
He raised his head slowly, letting the cranes crash around him for effect, and quirked an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Lupin sat on the armchair opposite him, grey streaked hair and grey cardigan against grey fabric. He created an almost toneless image, like an old, time faded photograph, if not for the violently pink journal resting on his lap. Draco thought it better not to ask about that. Lupin's wand was still trained on the journal's pages but his long suffering expression told Draco that the other wizard must have been observing him quietly for a while.
"How much of that did you hear?"
"All of it." Draco lied.
Lupin fixed him with a pointed look and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disapproval.
Draco sneered "I did. Or do you need me to write a seven feet essay on the wonders of airpains to prove it, then, Sir?"
"It's airplanes. And that idea sounds more tempting by the minute, seeing as I was discussing -You know what? It doesn't matter." His former Professor shook his head, tapping his fingers idly on the cover of the journal. "It's going to be a huge cultural shock. . . Especially for someone like you." He added, gesturing vaguely with the other hand in his direction. Draco nostrils flared. "I just want you to be ready."
"You spent the last 72 hours lecturing me on how they are not that much different from us. How difficult can it be? I am not an idiot".
"That so?" The other man countered, showing a hint of teeth, but he didn't press it further. "Well then, if you have everything packed -".
"Yes" Draco gritted out. His flight was early the next morning and most of his day had been spent mechanically folding his new clothes by hand, in the desperate hope to keep his mind numb. As much as he had tried arguing against it, international portkeys were only released with the Ministry approval. It was a commodity they could not afford when playing "find the Potter before they find you", so he had to swallow years of mistrust and loathing and put his life in the hands of Muggle's dubious physic knowledge. While he had, in fact, tried listening to Lupin's long list of reasons why airplanes were perfectly safe, actually being inside the thing was gonna be a completely different matter. Draco suspected that, even when presented with solid evidence of an airplane actually flying, part of him would always believe they had no business doing so.
"Good. . . Good! If you want to-".
"No." Draco interrupted again, raising to his feet. "As extravagant as it might sound to you, I need sleep." He deliberately ran his eyes over the other man's figure, mouth twisted in disdain. He wasn't sure when was the last time Lupin had slept, but the weariness from the approaching full-moon only accentuated further the signs of exhaustion on his already pale skin.
"And so do you" was left unsaid, but Draco let the judgment transpire heavily in his gaze.
Lupin simply looked away.
When the silence stretched a bit too long Draco snatched the first book he could reach from atop one of the scattered piles, vaguely registering it was titled A Guide to Muggle Currencies, and bid the other man goodnight. "Nothing like a light reading to promote good dreams." He said, waving the book dramatically.
He was just past the door threshold when he heard a muttered "Say what you want, but you and Padfoot are definitely related."
He pooped his head back into the lounge "The what-who now?". But Lupin ignored him. His head was already bent over the journal, a bluish light streaming from his wand and softly illuminating his concentrated frown.
Draco went upstairs feeling slightly out of depth, not sure if he ought to be offended by the nonsensical remark.
Once in his room he slipped into Potter's t-shirt, set an alarm for 5 am on his wand and inhaled half a dose of Dreamless Sleep, praying Salazar would let him wake up ten years in the past.
When his wand started buzzing insistently next to his ear just a few hours later, he was unfortunately still 17, still wrapped in Potter's clothes and, worst of all, he still had a flight to catch.
It was so early that the room was drenched in darkness, a single sliver of first morning light barely filtering through the heavy drapes. Draco covered his face with his hands and let out a muffled scream.
"We are apparating!" Draco had declared the day before, leaving no room for argument. It was a testimony of how much time they had been spending together that Lupin didn't even attempt trying.
The earliest flight they could find departed from Manchester airport, and took almost a full day with two stops in Amsterdam and San Francisco. Draco couldn't wrap his mind around the fact he had to go backwards before going forward, but Lupin didn't seem to find his detour to the Netherlands at all that strange. He was actually increasingly distracted and Draco knew he just wanted to get rid of him before the full moon.
The werewolf had spent the previous afternoon patrolling the area around the airport in search of the best spot for them to apparate to, so it was of no surprise to Draco when they landed in a deserted alley behind some old buses. He shook the other man's grip off his forearm and glared "It smells of piss!"
Lupin righted his clothes and fished Draco's belongings out of his pocket, unshrinking them in the process. The black luggage dropped to the ground with a thunk and Draco barely snatched his backpack from the air before it met the same fate. "As I said, piss!" He glared harder between the other wizard and the stained asphalt.
"Good thing we are not staying long, then." Lupin dismissed him, looking around. "I have something for you."
Draco looked at the pink notebook held out towards him in disbelief. Umbridge, his mind provided, he had been such a failure as part of the Inquisitorial Squad and now this was his punishment. He was about to ask if she had been using polyjuice all along when Possibly-Umbridge-In-Disguise sighed heavily and thrusted the journal further under his nose.
"It's a two way diary, if you wish. Anything you need to tell me just write it down, and I will be able to see it and write back without having to use owls or something else as ostentatious and slow". Not Umbridge then. Probably.
It was admittedly a good idea, and Draco found himself reaching out half-heartedly "And it's pink for what reason, exactly?" He queried, wrinkling his nose.
"Because I don't like you all that much, exactly." Definitely-not-Umbridge replied, grinning in amusement for the first time since they had met again, almost a week before. His eyes danced with mirth, transforming his face completely into something younger and carefree. It was honestly disturbing, realising Lupin was a man in his mid-thirties when, most days, he carried himself like he was at least a hundred. Draco feared what war did to youth.
He rolled his eyes, trying to shake the lingering sadness away "Very Mature. No way I'd be caught writing in this thing".
"You are a wizard, you'll figure it out" Lupin chuckled before sobering up so suddenly that Draco had to wonder if he was actually seeing things. "Open it, please. On the first page."
Draco obliged and he found himself looking in bewilderment at a pair of tiny footprints wandering around the page, the name Narcissa Malfoy written in loopy cursive just below them. "What-" his voice sounded scratchy, and he cleared the lump that had wedged itself into his throat before trying again "W-what is this?"
Lupin smiled sadly "It's an adaptation of a charm that I haven't used in many, many years. I had to tune it into your magical core, for the lack of better, as I didn't really have a location exactly. . . Well, it's complicated, but her magic is connected to yours by familiarity and it picked up her "signal"." He made finger quotes in the air, looking awkward "All you need to know is that as long as your mother's name is on that page she is we- alive." He corrected, unwilling to make a promise he couldn't keep.
Draco stared at the little footprints frantically pacing inside the boundaries of the paper until they blurred into nothing more than a blotch of ink. He was aware of the time slipping away, each second punctuated by the rhythm of his heart beating loudly in his ears, but he found himself unable to look away. Only when his mother's name became illegible through the mist swelling in his eyes, he finally took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts and praying Salazard's entire bloodline to stop him from crying.
He could not cry. Damn Lupin, he could. Not. Fucking. Lose it.
He swallowed twice against the lump in his throat and blinked, willing the tears back. He had never cried in front of anyone but his mother, and he certainly wasn't going to break apart in a pissy alley with Potter's fanclub Leader as his witness.
When he felt sufficiently in control and he was sure that nothing supid like a "thank you" was gonna escape his mouth, he snapped the journal shut and turned around.
Without checking if the other man was following, he started marching in what was hopefully the direction of the airport.
"I need to go."
Lupin remained silent but Draco could hear the rhythmical tapping of footsteps just behind him. Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Somehow, it was more comforting than any words could have been.
The airport was huge and confusing. More people that Draco had ever seen together swarmed around each other in various degrees of haste, but almost all acting as if they were late to something.
It was impressive how most Muggle were able to unconsciously dodge crashing into one another or getting their feet flattened by a stray wheel, all the while looking every-fucking-where but in front of them. Draco had yet to master that particular skill, his toes still aching as a result of a couple of close encounters with heavy luggages and their apologetical owners. It had taken all his self control not to Avada the wankers.
Lupin had left a while earlier. Draco had not so subtly told him to stop treating him like a fucking child and the parting had been tense and awkward. Now that he was one "look where the fuck you are going" away from blowing his entire cover, though, he kind of missed having someone to keep him together.
He finally spotted the queue for the check-in, Lupin's voice in his head repeating for the umpteenth time what he was supposed to do.
He fell into place in line behind a tired looking family, mindful to keep a safe distance away from exuberant feet. He was getting increasingly agitated and the two little imps chasing each other in the confined space in front of him didn't help settling his nerves.
Part of him wanted to snap at the parents to keep their terrors in check, almost digging the confrontation as a potential distraction from his overworked mind. His lips curled but, before he could voice his complaints, he met the apologetic, almost pleading eyes of the mother. She looked exhausted but there was a glint of a challenge in her gaze. She would stand up for her children, if it came to that. Draco felt the pang of irritation fade, replaced by the sharper tug of homesickness. He gave her a curt nod and diverted his eyes to the floor.
He patted the front pocket of his jeans, tracing the firm contour of his passport a few times in assurance. Then, just to give his hands something to do, he fumbled with his backpack and searched for the bottle of felix felicis, letting go of a relieved breath when his fingers found glass. It was a stupid fear, thinking that someone could have taken it. To be extra safe Lupin had charmed it to look like a small tube of hand cream if any Muggle was to find it, but Draco couldn't help the compulsion to check anyway. He flipped it over, to make sure once again that it was properly sealed.
Only when he caught up with the ridiculousness of standing in a place full of people while fussing over hand lotion of all things, he finally tucked the vial into one of the inside pockets and zipped the backpack closed, letting his eyes wander back up.
The youngest of the children, a toddler with hair almost as blond as his, dangled sleepily from her father's shoulder, head bobbing up and down every time the man shifted to adjust the strap of his heavy looking duffle. A particularly brusque movement jolted her awake and Draco watched as she took in her surroundings, confusion replaced by curiosity when she met his eyes.
They stared at each other for a while. Draco was just about to raise an eyebrow at her persistence, when she unclenched her fingers and let go the ratty bunny she had been holding. She followed the fall and then looked back up, eyes boring into him with a silent invitation to interact.
Draco scoffed and was about to sidestep around the toy to follow the moving queue, when someone from behind tripped over him. Draco watched as a boy around his age stood back up holding the bunny and giving him a weird look.
"Sorry" the boy said "You didn't notice but the little girl in front of you dropped this". His heavily accented tone was friendly enough but Draco could hear the hint of suspicion. He shrugged, unwilling to feel guilty, and the Muggle rolled his eyes, turning to get the attention of the family.
Draco watched while the parents thanked him profusely as if he was the second coming of Merlin himself, but the git only shook his head with nonchalant modesty. That, for some reason, irritated him immensely. He took in the boy's figure, lingering on the mop of unruly, chestnut hair. He had an open, pleasant face, but his hair was truly terrible. Draco huffed in contempt.
Fucking nice people.
He gestured for him to keep his place ahead in line, quickly shutting his expression off when it looked like the other boy wanted to engage in conversation. The Muggle seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times. Draco stared back, trying to convey as much hostility as possible, until it became uncomfortable and the boy turned around, eventually lost in the moving queue.
Draco shuffled his way through security almost mechanically.
Empty pockets, take off rings, check for metal.
When his bag disappeared inside the small, beeping tunnel, his hands spasmed with the need to reach out and snatch it back. He tried to regain composure, glancing around to see if any of the burly men in uniforms around him had noticed his "escaped from Azkaban" act. The guy sitting at the desk simply looked bored, eyes fixed on the square metal box in front of him wistfully. The other two guards were engrossed in a nonsensical conversation about someone's neighbour Bill and what sounded like a goat. Even when Draco hurried suspiciously fast under the security arch, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans and aware he must have appeared for all intents and purposes like someone with a secret, they barely spared him any attention. And yet, he couldn't shake off the feeling that all eyes were pointed on him.
When he was finally reunited with his belongings he sat on the first available chair and opened his backpack, frantically checking that everything was still where it was supposed to be. Only when he had gone through every pocket twice, he noticed the boy from the queue was sitting next to him.
"First time flying?" The Muggle asked, conversationally.
"What is it to you?" Draco snapped back, irritated.
"You seem nervous"
"I am not scared!"
"I said nervous." The boy shrugged, giving him a little smile. "I've been flying since I was very little,
with my parents being divorced and my mum moving back to France -" He stopped, blushing sheepishly at Draco's annoyed expression.
"Anyway, it's really not that strange. Think about it this way, your chances to die in a car crash are way higher, and we use cars daily without much fuss."
"I've never been in one." Draco deadpanned. "Car, I mean." He clarified, after a beat.
The other boy snorted skeptically "Sure." His eyes flickered up towards the screen above them. "Oh, that's my gate. I'd say it was a pleasure but not sure you would agree." He added, standing up and adjusting his own bag over his shoulder.
He lingered for a moment, watching Draco curiously, his head tilted in consideration. "I don't know where you are going, but I hope you'll find happiness once you get there." And with that, he gave a final wave and disappeared into the crowd.
Draco was left alone, whatever scathing retort dying on his lips, shaken by the parting words of a stranger that, with so little effort, wished him more than he had ever dared to wish for himself.
