Here's a look at what our little snakes have been up to since September first
The social scene at Hogwarts was shaping up to be remarkably different than mother and father had prepared him to expect.
By the end of his first week at school, Draco had already lost count of the number of slytherin upperclassmen that had told him how relieved they were that his and Ron's two families had finally put aside their differences and ended the old feud between themselves. It would have been one thing if the comments had been remotely congratulatory, then he'd have been able to proudly reply that he and his cousins had a large part to play in helping to facilitate the remediation efforts. He'd have even tolerated remarks along the lines of 'families reuniting and making peace being the good and proper state of things'.
He couldn't stand the condescending assumptions that he'd have so surely been a miserable little twat if the Malfoys were still at odds and quarreling with their Weasley cousins, and how convenient it was that there was a family member so close at hand to keep him in check. He frankly resented the cruel certainty that he was little more than a spoiled lordling who would have undoubtedly made their lives hell waging war on Gryffindor rivals. He hated the quiet implication that he'd have been a junior death eater in the making. It was as unfair to himself as it was to his father.
Really though, it was the casual self-interest that drove him mad (which was admittedly a bit hypocritical as it was a trait he had in spades, but that wasn't the point).
Worst of all were the exaggerated 'thank Merlins' that someone had intervened and prevented him from being the unbearable cunt they'd all been expecting him to be. What hurt the most, genuinely and truly hurt him like a physical blow, was that it was said like it was a sincere and earnest compliment. As if it was utterly remarkable that he'd managed to change from the little prick they all remembered avoiding at parties and soirées and galas. That the difference in him was so unbelievable they couldn't have imagined it if they hadn't seen and spoken to him themselves firsthand. That they'd been dreading him coming to school with them.
Was it possible that he had really been so awful as a child? He didn't think he had changed so much as to be unrecognizable to people. His mother had always said what a bright, sweet, charming boy he was… but he was starting to think she might be a touch biased towards him. Apparently his entire childhood he'd been a ghastly twat that everyone bloody hated. What he couldn't understand was why had no one simply told him?
With his tail between his legs, feeling small and needing a bit of a confidence boost, he'd sought out his godfather for answers. To his dismay, the normally ruthlessly honest man had steadfastly avoided his gaze and given him a load of hippogriff dung about "the people in our lives being able to influence us more for the better than anything else," and remarked that although he still despised children in general, he was finding Draco to be a much more pleasant child to be around lately. It might as well have been a tacit admission from the man that it was all true.
He was sulking in his dorm room, a hair's breadth from having a true strop and maybe even writing home to mother about it, when he heard a playful little knock on one of the posts of his bed frame. Heaving a world weary sigh, he raised his voice "Go away Ron, I'm bad company right now," he said, hating the whine he heard in his voice and how pathetic he sounded even to his own ears. The snort that came from the other side of the curtains was enough to begin to grate on his nerves and he felt his temper start to rise "But apparently I've always been bad company - awfully nice of the people around me to let me know!" He added angrily, pulling his coverlet up over his head and burrowing down deeper into his bed.
"You're so snarky most of the time it's easy to forget how sensitive you can be," his cousin's voice came through the curtain and the blanket and he let the statement circle around his brain a few times before he sat up and pulled back the closest edge "I'll hex you six ways from Sunday if you ever call me sensitive again, you tosser. Can't you see I'm suffering here? At least let me be miserable in peace," he said, glaring out angrily at the redhead who had the absolute audacity to smile and not look even the slightest bit intimidated.
The other boy rolled his eyes - rolled his eyes at him! - and sat down on the bed. "Shove over then, you poor suffering sod," he said cheerfully, coming over to lean back casually against the headboard. Draco looked down at his feet, fully prepared to throw a fit, but saw that Ron had already kicked his shoes off and had socks on. Well… that was alright then, he supposed. He threw himself back down flat, and wiggled over to give the other boy some room. He sighed again, even more heavily, and turned his eyes towards the soft fabric ceiling of his bed "I can't believe I've apparently been an arsehole my entire life and no one's ever said a thing to me about it," he said softly.
A terrible realization flooded him. Suddenly desperately curious, he craned his neck back to make eye contact with his cousin "You knew too, didn't you?" He asked, wanting to know but not wanting to hear it. He felt a stomach ache building, and his throat tasted hot and a bit like sick. What would he do if the boy who had somehow become his closest friend and confidant was among those who had known and said nothing?
Ron seemed to be considering his response carefully, because what he said wasn't what Draco had been expecting at all.
"How much do those white peacocks your dad loves so much cost, d'you reckon? If you had to guess," his cousin asked him, and he felt a pang of annoyance at the incongruous question, struggling to see how it could possibly be relevant. "…erm, not that much. Maybe five to ten thousand galleons? They're naturally rare, but they're not anctually inherently magical. Father never shuts up about how you can enchant the eggs to have a higher likelihood of albinism so they're not as hard to get a hold of. Why do you ask?" He demanded, more sharply than was polite.
"Well what about those giant flying horses? What are they called, abrahams?" He asked instead of explaining himself, and Draco huffed frustratedly. "Abraxans… and I dunno, I think I heard him say once that the foals go for somewhere around twenty to thirty thousand galleons depending on which ones its parents were," he easily recalled off the top of his head, still clueless about where Ron was going with this line of reasoning "Are you thinking of getting one for yourself? Father would probably give you a family discount if you wanted to buy one from his herd," he offered.
The boy chuckled brightly "No, I'm just curious is all. Now this might be harder, I know it's a bit… crass to talk about, but how much do house elves cost? I know you're only really supposed to inherit them, but there have got to be people that are new money that want them, right?" He asked casually, and if Draco hadn't been laying down he'd have been properly bowled over. A bit crass was putting it bloody mildly. This was an extremely inappropriate topic of discussion and his mother would wash his mouth out with soap if she ever found out he'd engaged in it. If Ron weren't family he'd have simply left the room without another word, so great a faux pas it was to mention so casually.
After much thought he hesitantly he answered "Merlin Ron, I dunno. You really aren't supposed to buy or sell them. It does something terrible to their minds. Don't let the cousins hear you were asking questions like that - with all the creature nonsense they've been on lately they'll have you strung up by your toenails. Now you didn't hear this from me, got it? But when people do… buy and sell elves… it depends a lot on how old they are and what families they've served before. I think even the oldest most run down elf would probably still be able to fetch upwards of seventy five thousand galleons," he said, his voice a whisper even in the privacy of their shared room.
"When I was very very young, before grandfather Abraxas passed away, he told me about the old days when they held auctions for them. The way he talked about it, it sounded like they used to force the elves t-to… breed together. To make them have more house elf babies, healthier or stronger ones. I remember mother was horrified when I asked her about it, she was furious with him for telling me about it. He said a lot of things he shouldn't have, talked about dark and evil things. I think his mind must have been going towards the end. He called me by father's name a lot," Draco confessed, his voice so quiet he could barely hear his own words. Like coming out of a trance, he inhaled sharply, realizing Ron was listening wide-eyed and with his mouth agape. He gulped audibly, his throat feeling thick with the words he'd spoken "It's how I know that as ridiculous as the pair of them sound wanting to go on some crusade to protect the goblins and house elves, there's a real need for what they're trying to do."
He shook his head and cleared his throat "Where exactly were you going with that by the way, mate? Can I expect to see white peacocks and abraxans and an elf the next time I pull up to the burrow?" He asked playfully, hoping some levity would lighten things back up. He was inordinately pleased when his cousin burst into laughter"Can you even imagine?! No, Merlin, I was going to ask how much you think we got last year when we were finally allowed access to grandma Cedrella's trust vault," he said lightly, the smile still present at the edges of his mouth. There was a hint of mischief in the question, a twinkle in those blue eyes that reminded him all too much of Fred and George for his liking.
Draco immediately sensed that this was a test, and his mind raced over what he knew of his Weasley cousins and how their situation had so momentously improved. Finances for the sake of finances were something he was well versed in, and much more comfortable discussing. He'd been brought up at his father's side learning about managing the family assets and investments from the time he'd been able to see over the great mahogany desk in his study. It had been the talk of society when the Weasleys had been reinstated, and everyone had been curious about what they may have potentially inherited. However much had been in that vault they'd obviously been spending it modestly, thoughtfully. It had been almost a year and they were still clearly living on it. It had to be a remarkable sum to support so many of them for so long.
He gave it some real consideration, and tried to make an educated guess.
"Well she was a Black, and they don't do anything by halves. Inheritance and trusts are serious business. The amount in the family accounts is frankly absurd. You could live ten lifetimes like a king and not see it run dry. How much would they leave a daughter of their house, though… Two or three million galleons at the very least, I'd guess," he answered confidently. It was a fairly conservative estimate, but he knew his mother had received a similar amount when she'd married his father. Had that been a trust or a dowry, though? He wasn't sure, now that he thought about it.
Ron laughed again at that, a true belly laugh, shaking his head and clutching a hand to his chest "Morgana's starry garters, I wish! No, nowhere near that much. The goblins were able to find out from their records that after grandma was disowned her father and brothers spent the rest of their lives dipping into her trust for every little thing they needed. By the time we were allowed access to it all that was left was a measly hundred and thirty thousand galleons. And before you say what a tragedy or a nightmare that is, it's been enough money to change our lives. Every single one of us is beyond grateful, honest. Grandad is thrilled that her legacy is finally able to take care of us how she always wanted. It was a miracle for our family," he said, completely earnestly and without even the slightest hint of teasing or artifice.
Draco sat stunned, utterly unable to speak and unsure of what he would even say if he could.
A hundred and thirty thousand galleons.
For nine Weasleys to share.
If one was particularly frugal that could amount to one or two very old elves, four or five thoroughbred abraxans, or maybe ten or twelve white peacocks.
And Ron said that it had changed their lives.
He thought he was starting to see the general shape and outline of the lesson his cousin had been trying to impart to him, but he couldn't be sure. A hundred and thirty thousand galleons. Morgana's starry garters, indeed. They hadn't just been living at different income levels like he'd thought, they'd been living in entirely different worlds. Even having visited and spent time at the burrow still hadn't really been enough to drive home just how vastly different their upbringings were, but somehow hearing that number was. That insultingly low number. It was shameful.
Still speechless, he almost missed Ron talking again "-and you have no idea how glad I was not to have to use one of my older brothers wands. I'd rather wear their old underwear, feels less personal," he chuckled and Draco snapped back to attention "I'm sorry did you just say something about sharing communal underwear? You can't have been that poor, I refuse to believe it," his mouth said before his brain caught up, and he wanted to roll off the edge of his bed and drag himself underneath it.
Obviously they had been that poor, his father had boasted for years about how awfully dressed uncle Arthur had been before they made up.
"Bloody hell, what is wrong with me? This is why everyone hated me," he moaned, reaching up to grab his pillow and covering his face with it. To his surprise though, Ron laughed again, and pulled up the corner of the pillow "Yeah mate, I reckon it is," he agreed, and it was like an arrow to his chest. Maybe he hadn't really changed after all. He glanced up at Ron's face, that was still smiling at his dramatics and narrowed his eyes "What?" He demanded again, just as sharp as before."Look, we didn't meet as little kids so I have no idea what you were like then for comparison," Ron started, and hesitated before continuing.
"But if you want my opinion I think you're decent to be around, and quite frankly I'm getting a bit sick and tired of the other snakes coming up and thanking me for fixing you and making you tolerable. They can piss clean off. If I'm being perfectly honest, I think they're right shits who're clueless about just how awful they are. I probably haven't been very subtle about it but I actually can't stand most of our housemates. I don't like the way they talk about you, that they don't realize they might as well be describing themselves,"
"You have changed in the time I've known you, but it's had nothing to do with you becoming a better person. You were alright to begin with, mate. You were just so sheltered that you had no idea about the rest of the world that existed outside of your little rich boy bubble. And I'm not saying that's your fault, either! You'd never even been outside of magical London before this last year, and you have your mum and dad to thank for that. Our house mates are the same, I doubt a single one of them has spent more than a few frightened hours anywhere near a muggle let alone gone out into the city on purpose. You and them were both worse off for it, except now you know what you were missing and they still haven't got a clue. They're boring and they like being that way, they wanna a stay that way forever. They think being around your blood traitor relatives for a summer made you nicer somehow? Maybe, maybe not. I think it's more likely that just having kids your own age to play with, meeting werewolves, thinking about the way the world works, and actually stepping foot outside of that insane museum you live in has made you more interesting to be around."
He was strangely touched, and he felt a surge of confidence returning to himself as he considered all the boy had said "You really think so?" He asked quietly, feeling vulnerable and soft. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it, would I?" he responded, "You get what I was trying to say though, right?" Ron asked, head tilted like a golden retriever in a display you'd never catch another Slytherin making, and Draco couldn't help but laugh "Yes, thank you. It's my parents' fault I was a prat for my entire life, and I'm very worldly and wise now," he said, nodding seriously.
"Was? No, hang on, I must have explained it wrong. You're still a prat, you prat, they're just also prats and they don't even have the decency to realize it!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Feeling more than marginally better about himself, Draco walked the school and attended classes with a regained sense of confidence (and dare he say it, a bit of a swagger to his step). He was still a wealthy pureblood scion with a good name, but that didn't mean the same things to him that it used to. He had a good family and good friends, and that meant more than anything else in the world. He was on a path of self-awareness and improvement, and that was more than his house mates could say. He still had blind spots of course, but he was working on them.
One of them reared its ugly head when the school year really picked up and his cousin Hermione started spending more and more time with the Longbottom boy. The two were practically attached at the hip, and he was always hanging onto her skirts and following along wherever she went. To classes, to the library, to the kitchens, on adventures, even to family meetings! It was untenable. No matter what they were doing he was always there like a barnacle attached to her rump.
Draco was just about ready to admit that he simply didn't understand the boy's appeal. Or like the way he took up his cousin's time. They'd been inseparable ever since the train ride when he'd dragged her off with him and never brought her back. He and Harry and the Weasleys had all been worried terribly, thinking that she was in trouble somewhere when she was really just off making friends with that fat little lump. All because he'd lost his stupid toad, which was ridiculous because who even got a toad anymore anyways?It was a fittingly gross pet for such a dumpy little twerp.
Nevertheless, he put a considerable effort into being neutral and friendly whenever the boy was around, despite the inexplicable urge he got to dig his fingers into the boy's weak edges and pry them apart. Something about the dopey look he always had on his dumb horsey face, his wonky teeth, his chubby build, his clumsy limbs, drove Draco nearly frothing mad. He wanted to not just tear down but to humiliate the boy and he didn't know why. He didn't want to feel this way, he thought he'd come so far.
Apparently he had a lot further still to go than he realized.
Longbottom was just such an easy target, and Draco hated that he so often and so effortlessly narrowed in on the soft boy's vulnerabilities, despite never giving in to the instinct to follow through and cut to the core where he was exposed and weak. He knew he could rip him apart like he breathed air, without even trying or thinking about it. It took more effort to hold back his vitriol and ignore the boy than he was comfortable with.
He'd briefly considered bringing it up with Ron to see if his cousin felt the same way, but he'd never heard him say a bad word about Longbottom and he didn't want to reveal a part of himself he was so sensitive about …Come to think of it, though… he hadn't actually heard Ron ever say a single word about the Gryffindor boy at all. Bad or good, he'd made no indication of his feelings either way. Ron usually had an opinion about everything from what was served for dinner to the way different professors wrote on the blackboards. That he was truly neutral on a topic was suspicious in and of itself, and made Draco curious enough to think about bringing it up.
He'd have to approach it carefully, though.
The perfect opportunity arose when an altercation in the corridors had escalated to one of the older Slytherins stealing Longbottom's rememberall and refusing to give it back. His cousin had been absolutely incandescent in her rage and had openly snarled at McTavish, but he'd held firm and called her a violent little creature and insinuated that Longbottom was the little bunny rabbit she was saving for dinner. The seventh year had fled shortly after, throwing stinging hexes at the pair of Gryffindor firsties to cover his escape. Draco and Ron had both stood off to the side stock still throughout the entire incident, scarcely able to believe what they were seeing.
As much as they had desperately wanted to help their cousin, the older Slytherin boys could make their lives extremely unpleasant if they'd so much lifted a finger in her or Longbottom's defense. He was just shocked that even though they knew she was a werewolf they would still so blatantly disrespect the head of the house of Black. He realized in that moment how little her noble title would be able to realistically protect her outside of legal matters. In situations like this people would always still treat her like what she was, a werewolf child.
To make matters worse, Longbottom had the sheer nerve to be shirty afterwards about the two of them not getting involved or telling off their house mate for the way he had spoken about their cousin. The boy hadn't said anything overtly blaming, but the disdainful look on his stupid fat face had made it clear that he thought they were cowardly for not coming to her defense. What a little prick - he had absolutely no idea the politics that took place in the Slytherin common room. Just because the Gryffindors were having slumber parties and braiding each other's hair up in their tower didn't mean it was all fun and games in the dungeons. Keeping interpersonal relations safely neutral down there was a much more serious issue. Having a politely frosty acquaintanceship with your peers was life or death in the snake pit.
They had both made sad guilty eyes at their cousin afterwards and she had nodded sagely, letting them know she understood they couldn't have done anything without putting themselves at risk. As she put a hand on Longbottom's arm and led him away up to their tower, Ron and Draco both bristled at the boy's blush and grin. No wonder he was always following her around - he had a crush on her! It was simply unthinkable. Unforgivable. Obscene, even.
The very moment they'd made it back to the privacy of their shared room, it had been the first thing out of both of their mouths "What does she see in him?" they both exclaimed in unintentional but nearly perfect unison. They'd spent all the following hours until bedtime taking turns railing about the boy, thrilled in the dark delight of having a shared hated enemy. The only thing they hadn't discussed was what they could actually do about the little toad, and that was because there wasn't really anything they could do about him except complain. He would be in their lives as long as their cousins tolerated his presence, and any attempts they made to sabotage his place in their esteem would most likely be viewed with extreme scrutiny.
…So it would have to look natural. Organic. Like they hadn't had a hand in it at all.
If they wanted him to lose their cousins favor they'd have to engineer a situation in which he behaved poorly all on his own. Openly taunting him into saying or doing something rude was out, because then he'd just be able to say that he'd been provoked. Getting him to say something hateful about werewolves was unlikely, because he clearly knew and didn't care about what the Greybacks were. Asking Fred and George to help them was out, because while the pair were notorious pranksters they were rarely cruel and they tended to have a soft spot for fellow Gryffindors.
They began carefully observing their target and found only more and more things about him to despise. Longbottom had to be riding their cousin's coattails to be doing so well in potions, and since getting a new wand had begun to do better and better in the other practical classes as well. He'd even started to outperform them both in charms and transfiguration, which they attributed to having gotten so much of Hermione's help the first few weeks when he was doing so poorly with his father's old wand. There wasn't much there to work with, it was actually quite impressive that he'd been able to make the thing work for him at all in the time he'd been using it.
In their third week of school when their cousins' dramatics and werewolf shenanigans reached their height, the two were beyond displeased to see and hear about Longbottom being right there along with them in the thick of it. Him and his gutless uncertainty had been the reason their ridiculous reckless cousin had transformed in the middle of the Gryffindor common room! She'd revealed herself to a quarter of the student body just to show him she was harmless - something he should have known all along and trusted.That the spineless little worm's disloyalty was rewarded by being allowed to accompany them on their field trip into the forbidden forest later in the week was simply untenable. The two of them were lucky to have been included - and they were family! Why had he been allowed to tag along?
When their cousin's shocking growth spurt had been revealed on said field trip, they'd both been beside themselves with the excited hope that they might be granted permission to ride on her back. Harry had gone first of course, as was his right as her twin brother, and it had been great fun watching him repeatedly fall off. They'd silently agreed that if they were given the opportunity at all after he was done, Ron could go first as he'd always had to go last for everything at home with all of his many siblings.
What they hadn't expected was for their cousin to trot up to Longbottom next and let him clumsily mount and ride her around like a toddler on a carnival pony. Though they had initially seethed at the unfairness of it, they'd shared matching evil little snakey grins and eagerly anticipated seeing him fall off. Maybe he'd have the bad luck to break something important. They hadn't expected him to get the hang of it quite so quickly, or to look like the portrait of a bloody aristocrat while he did so. Napoleon in the flesh, born again in Scotland apparently. He was soon riding circles around them, and their gleeful hopes of him humiliating or injuring himself were thoroughly dashed.
The likelihood that one or both of them might get a shot at a turn grew slimmer and slimmer the further they tromped out into the woods. Harry had been astride for only maybe five minutes before falling off for the final time, and Longbottom had ridden for easily three times that long by the time they finally stumbled across the centaurs.
As interesting as it had been to visit their village and meet some young centaurs their own age, the wait while their cousins had been in that little hut had been intolerable. After the twins disappeared with the giant white centaur woman, the rest of them had spent what felt like hours helping their hosts do ridiculous chores such as stacking piles of twigs and sweeping dirt floors. It had seemed utterly pointless to Draco, but Longbottom had of course been a good sport about, the utter halfwit. It had been a truly incredible sight when both Harry and Hermione had finally both rushed back out of the hut as enormous bloody wolves, the pair of them. They had wanted to congratulate their cousins on their success and ask how they'd done it, but with the hour so late and their business concluded their head of house was quick to hurry all three boys back to the castle.
The two wolves had been given leave to run free and play in the forest for the rest of the night, and Ron and Draco had caught sight of them following behind several times as they made their way back through the woods. In a flash of what felt like perfect mental telepathy, they had locked eyes and both known that the other desperately wished to be able to run with them as wolves in that moment. It felt like they were entirely different people than they'd once been. They were a thousand miles away from the boys they'd been who were initially so frightened of their werewolf relatives. The irony was not lost on either of them that they both now longed to be included, to run and howl and play.
They made their way back to their dungeon room and lay down for the night in their beds, but neither could fall asleep. Their minds were both wide awake and abuzz with similar outrageous thought - could it be their destiny to be wolves?
It was an awful terrible thing to think, but of six male Weasley children there was a good chance that the youngest might feasibly not be too badly missed should he decide to go off the grid and leave wizarding society behind to live in the woods. At the very least it would probably take people a while to notice that there was one less redheaded boy in the crowd. It might actually even be a boon to his family if he went and fostered with his cousins, money wasn't as tight as it had once been but one less mouth to feed would certainly still make a difference.
On the other hand, there was only one snobby blonde Malfoy child, and the social circles he ran in were made up of dozens of notoriously observant busybodies - all of whom had networks of spies and informants all over the school. If he so much as spent too long in the loo someone might get the wrong idea and muster a search party. With the entire school in on the Greybacks' open secret and their familial connection well known, a single sneeze in the days leading up to the full moon could cause people to start making unfavorable assumptions about him.
Despite the pull he had felt when he had seen his cousins running together in the forest, Draco wasn't sure if he could do that to his father. It might be the end of the Malfoy line entirely if legislation ever one day passed that prevented werewolves from inheriting. Things were bad and getting worse out in the world, despite all of his cousins' big plans for political activism in the wizengamot it was always still a very real possibility for things to regress further rather than go forwards. Hermione was locked in as the head of the house of Black, no one could take her Lordship away from her for any reason. He on the other hand was only the heir of his house, a far more tenuous position. It would be irresponsible of him to do something so drastic that could potentially risk his family's future.
Exhausted but unable to fall asleep from how long he'd been awake and how exciting the night had been, he tossed and turned restlessly for the rest of the morning.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The two boys both slept in late enough to miss breakfast the next day, and they only barely made it to the great hall in time to get some of the last scraps of lunch that were still left. Though neither would ever give their housemates such ammunition as to comport themselves in an unmannerly fashion during a meal, they did eat with gusto.
(While aunt Molly had taught all of her children basic table manners before sending them off to school, it had only taken a single meal at the Slytherin table after their sorting for Draco to realize he'd have to give his cousin a much more intensive crash course in table etiquette if he hoped for the boy to survive unscathed among the snakes. They'd snuck to the kitchens that very first night and spent hours drilling until Ron's skills were beyond reproach.)
Finally fully awake after having gotten some food into their bellies, the two of them had been perturbed to notice that their cousins were absent from the Gryffindor table. The two of them shared the same sudden worry - had the twins not come back to the castle the night before? They were even less happy to see Longbottom blunderingly make his way towards them with all the subtlety of an erumpent. It might be the afternoon, but it was too early to have to deal with him again already.
Either completely oblivious to or utterly uncaring of the incredulous looks the other snakes were shooting his way and the way the two of them openly shook their heads to indicate he shouldn't approach, the boy sat down at their table right across from them. How in Salazar's name were they supposed to work with that? He couldn't take a simple social cue to save his life.
"Hiya fellas, crazy night eh?" he greeted them breezily. Loudly.
"…Longbottom." They both intoned unhappily, scowling at the boy. He seemed taken aback, and started to fidget nervously.
"Listen, Harry and Hermione came in early this morning and only slept for a bit before their dad called them home. They wanted to see you fellas before going but they had to leave suddenly, and she asked me to tell the pair of you that they wouldn't be back until," he glanced around and finally lowered his voice "well, not until after the full moon was passed. They got permission to spend the whole weekend at home since it's their first one away from the rest of their- you know. She said they'd see us again on Tuesday," the boy reported lamely, with a dumb bland smile on his stupid face as if he expected them to thank him.
Draco couldn't help the cruel sneer that his lips drew themselves back into, "Does it make you feel like a big useful man to play messenger pigeon for our cousin? That's a bit pathetic even for you, Longbottom, running around after her like a lovesick little bitch when she's not even here," he snapped, every bit of vitriol he'd been holding back suddenly let loose on the unsuspecting boy. He regretted the words as soon as he thought them, to say nothing about letting them leave his mouth. But what was done was done.
He felt Ron tense next to him, but a moment later the boy backed him up like a true snake, elbow on his shoulder and dismissive noise tossed in Longbottom's direction "You're still here? You delivered your message already, birdbrain. Now flap off," he tacked on a bit weakly. It was effective though, as it made the wide-eyed boy across from them visibly flinch.
"Wow," he responded, shaking his head and sounding a bit breathless, "the pair of you really show your true colors the moment they're not around to keep you in line, huh? I knew you blokes didn't like me, neither of you are very subtle about it, but that's something else. Alright, good to know where we stand," he said with a grim nod, before standing and walking away from their table and out of the hall without another word or glance back at them.
From several places down their table Zabini started to chuckle darkly "That was vicious even for you Malfoy, well done. You put up a good act for a while but I knew you hadn't really changed. Nice to see you're continuing your aunt's work," the boy said in his low slightly accented voice. Nearly all the Slytherins still left at the table gasped and the majority glared at the boy hotly. "You're beyond out of line Zabini!" The fifth year prefect hissed at him from her spot nearby, and the boy only rolled his eyes "Oh come on, we were all thinking it," he retorted.
Draco felt shaky fear taking over his body - had Zabini meant his aunt Bellatrix? The evil and insane one who was in Azkaban for war crimes? He glanced up and down the table in both directions, searching for a single set of sympathetic or understanding eyes and finding none. When his gaze landed on Theo the boy sighed and gestured with a tilt of his head to the doors of the hall before pushing back from his seat and striding away. He scrambled to his feet to follow and dragged Ron along after him, trying to ignore the angry and disappointed glares the rest of their house sent their way.
They caught up to Theo as he headed outside and walked down to the lake with him in silence. The three of them settled on a big rock near the shore and watched little waves lap gently at the banks. "I know how hard it is to forget what you've been taught and try to be a better person, but that was like watching a train wreck. He didn't deserve that, especially not from you. Do you have any idea what your aunt did to his family?" He asked them, his voice surprisingly soft. Draco froze up, that trembling terror returning to his limbs at the thought of her. She'd almost brought his whole family to ruin with her zealous madness. He shook his head jerkily "All I know is how crazy and cruel she was, and that she's spending the rest of her life in prison because of it."
Theo scoffed "Mate, she's spending the rest of her life in prison because she tortured Longbottom's parents to complete and total insanity," his cousin gripped his arm tightly at that, a low pained noise coming from him. Draco wriggled his arm out of Ron's grasp and entwined their fingers together instead, squeezing his hand back just as tightly. Both their palms were clammy with anxious sweat.
He couldn't believe what he was hearing, and still Theo continued "They're permanent residents of St Mungo's because they can't even speak or take care of themselves. Rumor has it they might as well have been kissed by a dementor, for all that they're basically empty bodies. That's your aunt's work that Zabini was talking about. You go after Longbottom again the way you did today and no one in our house is going to stand by you, it makes us all look bad. He hasn't done a thing to either of you and we all know it. You called him pathetic, but it honestly just made you look like the worst sort of bullies the way you spoke to him," he reprimanded sharply.
"We fucked up so bad," Ron exhaled tremulously "we have to fix this. Apologize to him or at least make peace or something. I may not like him, but it felt bloody awful being so mean," the boy admitted. Draco nodded woodenly "I shouldn't have said it, I don't even know why I did. He's just always there clinging to her skirts and getting all of her attention, and he's in the same house as them. It's not fair-" he cut himself off sharply, realizing he sounded like a whiny little brat.He felt his cheeks heat as Theo started to laugh "You're jealous!" The boy crowed incredulously, and Draco looked around frantically to make sure there was no one nearby to hear him say such a thing.
"Salazar's sagging sack, no wonder the two of you can't stand poor Longbottom. Weasley here has probably had to share everything he's ever had, and Malfoy you've never had to share anything in your entire life. Merlin, neither of you know how to properly have a friend, do you? People aren't like things, friends are allowed to have other friends. You're going to have to get used to your cousins having friends other than yourselves sooner rather than later, because they're both funny and friendly and famous, and eventually they're going to have loads of people lining up to get to know them better," the boy said quite astutely, a wry smirk on his face.
Bugger, but he wasn't wrong.
Trying to think quickly, Draco scrambled to try and save some face "Well what makes you such a friendship expert, eh Nott? You're heir to a great house as well if I recall correctly, a rich only child just like myself," he retorted. To his surprise the other boy looked away a bit sheepishly, and he thought he saw his cheeks flush a bit pink "If you must know…" he mumbled "mum sent me to muggle primary school for a few years. Father put a stop to it as soon as he found out, but I got to socialize with tons of other children my own age and make friends all on my own for a while," he said, voice defensive and his shoulders creeping up towards his ears.
"Oh, aye?" Ron said, "So did we. Well, it wasn't muggle, but Mrs Diggory ran a day school in the village that mum sent us all to a few times a week. There weren't that many other students, but she taught us all our sums and reading and writing," yet again Draco was drawn in and taken aback by the difference in the experiences he and his cousin had growing up.
He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly "I had a whole host of private tutors. Father hired the very best, and they would come to the manor on different days of the week to teach me their subjects. English, French, Latin, Greek, history, geography, philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, music and poetry, dancing, fencing, social graces, business and finances…" he took in his cousin's gobsmacked expression with a wan ghost of a smile. They'd lived very lives indeed.
Theo on the other hand nodded grimly, intimately familiar with such an education "I was subjected to the same after father discovered and pulled me out of school. It was so different, I absolutely hated it. They all treated me like an idiot because I was starting later than all the rest of the little lords," he said, picking up a pebble and chucking it into the lake. It plopped wetly into the water and ripples spread from where it landed.
None of them mentioned how Lady Nott had famously passed away a few years ago, around the time Theo mentioned his unconventional education coming to light. There had been terrible rumors of her being killed by her husband. Draco suddenly recalled hearing that Theo's father had been a death eater who avoided prison like his own - but that the man had been a true believer. He avoided the implications of that train of thought. It was ugly and altogether too familiar. He picked up a pebble of his own and tossed it in, and it slapped into the water just as wetly.
Ron laughed next to him "Do neither of you know how to actually skip a rock?" He asked, picking one up and tossing it in the direction of the lake. Instead of plonking uselessly beneath the waves like both of theirs had, it zipped along above the surface like a fizzing whizbee, bouncing two and then three and then four times before it stopped spinning and finally sunk. Both boys looked at him flabbergasted "How in Merlin's name did you do that without magic?" Theo asked him, awed and earnest. Ron laughed a bit nervously and scratched at the back of his neck "Well, you just have to pick a nice flat one and then throw it like a fanged frisbee. Here, look," he said, hopping down off of the big rock they were sitting on to look for the right stone.
"Ah! See, this one's perfect," he exclaimed a moment later, and came back over to show them a rock that was almost like an ancient coin it was so perfectly round and flat. "And then you just…" he made the tossing motion a few times before executing it again, letting them observe the arc and trajectory. His wrist flicked up and out as he released the stone, and this one grazed the surface of the water at least half a dozen times before it finally lost momentum and disappeared below. They both clapped politely, deeply impressed, and he guffawed at them.
With a heavy but content sigh he sat back down on the rock with them, leaning back on his elbows "Thanks for the information by the way, Nott. You're a good mate for setting us right like that. I think it's safe to say if we'd known it sooner we'd have probably done things very differently, but as my dad always says better late than never. Let's go find him Draco, I think I know just what to say," he suggested, and it was a beautiful afternoon so they bid Theo goodbye and headed back to the castle.
"Walk me through our approach," Draco insisted as they trudged back up the hill "I don't want to be the reason we blunder this," he added with a frown, it hurt his pride to admit aloud that he was the less socially tactful of the pair of them. Ron grinned at him and threw his arm over his shoulder "Don't worry, just be honest and follow my lead," he teased, jostling him playfully. "Ronald, I'd like to not make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have," he groaned frustratedly.
"Oi, no call for that," the boy responded tartly "listen, what do all Gryffindors appreciate?" He asked, a wry grin on his face. Draco grimaced "Blistering honesty and emotional vulnerability?" He said, hoping that wasn't the plan. From the look on his cousin's face he was able to divine that was definitely a large part of the plan.
Bugger.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Neville was visiting Thistle down in the kitchens. Since he'd come to school she could occasionally be found near mealtimes poking her little nose in where it wasn't strictly needed and backseat cooking over the Hogwarts elves shoulders as they worked. Telling them what spices he preferred and how to make all his favorites the same way she did at home. Thankfully none of them minded her antics too terribly as many other nanny elves over the years had surely done similarly. It was very sweet of her but also hugely embarrassing, and he sincerely hoped no one ever caught on or he'd absolutely never hear the end of it.
Despite how cool he'd tried to play it and how proud of himself he was for having gotten in a good last word, his encounter with Hermione's cousins at lunch had cut to the bone. He'd had his suspicions about Malfoy from the very start of the year, but he was disappointed that the youngest Weasley was cut from the same cloth. The boy had looked uncomfortable, but had readily agreed and doubled down on his companion's cruel words seemingly without a second thought.
He didn't know how the twins could put up with the two of them. They were both so friendly and kind, and those awful little snakes were the polar opposite. He was sure they thought they'd been subtle and sneaky about their disliking him, but they'd made shockingly little effort to hide it. They constantly glared and scowled at him whenever they were so much as in the same room - they almost couldn't have been more obvious unless they'd come right out and said it.
Neville didn't know what he'd ever done to make them hate him, but from what Malfoy had said it seemed like they knew about his crush on their cousin and thought he wasn't worth her time. He'd come down to the kitchens to have a private panic with Thistle about it because he hadn't been able to work up the courage yet to tell her his feelings, and now he was terrified they'd do something humiliating like tell her themselves. Or Merlin forbid, if he'd really been so very obvious with his heart that they could have so easily discovered how he felt, what if she already knew as well and hadn't said anything because she didn't feel the same way! It was a very likely possibility, she was so very perceptive after all. The very thought shook him to his weak wobbly core, like a sad little bowl of pudding.
As they spoke Thistle had been more and more desperately trying to get him to partake in the plate of biscuits she'd brought him from home, and he was doing his darndest to avoid giving in to emotional overeating. Hermione had helped him find a nutrition book in the library that had been very enlightening. After reading it cover to cover he was developing what felt like very good eating habits. He'd had his fill at lunch and didn't want to indulge in a snack so soon after as a source of physical comfort.
…It had been a particularly rough day though, one single biscuit probably wouldn't hurt.
Just as he bit down into it and crumbs fell all over the front of his robes, the door to the kitchens opened and who should appear but the very same snakes who had so mercilessly ridiculed him earlier. What perfectly dreadful timing, he thought angrily. He brushed the biscuit crumbs off of himself and stood to leave, he didn't want to stick around for them to have another go. He might not be made of the sternest stuff, but he was no one's punching bag.
Seeing him make to storm out, they rushed over with their hands held up "Please hear us out," Weasley said plaintively "we want to apologize," Neville narrowed his eyes in suspicion. They did both have a particularly guilty and shameful look about them, but he couldn't be sure if it was actually from a place of remorse or not. They could just regret that they'd made themselves look like bullies. Maybe a professor had overheard and told them to apologize or face some punishment. He didn't trust it one bit!
"You called me a pathetic little bitch less than two hours ago and you expect me to believe you've had a change of heart about it in the time since?" He asked with a disbelieving huff, preparing to push past them. What he had forgotten was his elf who was sat down on the table not three feet away from him "Naughty mean little sirs be calling Thistle's young Master WHAT?" She shrieked furiously, bringing the entire bustle of kitchen activity to a grinding halt. All around them dozens of little elves stopped cleaning and looked aghast at both the foul language spoken within earshot and the anger openly directed towards a pair of students.
To his great dismay his elf turned her ire on him next "Master Nevvy is not saying that they is calling him such names!" She reprimanded sharply in her squeaky little voice that still somehow managed to strike terror into his heart, crossing her little arms and stomping one of her little feet. He felt a wash of hot embarrassment overcome him, certain that his childhood nickname would be used as ammunition against him at some point in the future. Hell, this whole situation was a richly fertile field to harvest things to use against him. He wasn't even supposed to have a personal elf at school with him, but here she clearly was in plain (and loud) sight.
To his surprise though, Malfoy began to blush a brilliant scarlet. It only figured that the boy was likely also raised by house elves despite having two living sane parents, and probably had a nearly Pavlovian reaction to their displeasure like any good little pureblood scion was supposed to. His own nanny elf probably called him little lord dragon or something equally ridiculous. What a tosser.
Malfoy's fists at his sides were clenched, and his mouth was a thin line on his sharp face "I've been jealous, Longbottom. It's a poor reason for treating you so badly, but it's the truth. A single train ride and you're suddenly our cousin's new best friend. You're even in the same house and get to spend all your time together. It's not fair! We didn't get to grow up together, we've only had since January to get to know them and now we only get to see them for meals and classes, where we have to sit far away and pretend not to be too close. Do you know how long it took just to convince their paranoid father let them come to my house? Do you have any idea what our housemates would do if we acted too familiar? They came into our lives and upended everything and now we have to act like we barely know them or we might be hexed in our beds! It's not fair! You get to just be a part of their lives like it's nothing-" The boy cut himself off, breathing so heavily he was almost panting.
Tears started to roll down Malfoy's cheeks, and Neville turned away to give him a moment of privacy to wipe them away."Is it really so bad down in the dungeons?" He asked hesitantly over his shoulder, not sure if he should turn back around yet, a part of him morbidly curious.
Weasley hummed "It's better and worse than you've probably imagined. My whole life I've thought I was going to be a Gryff like the rest of my family, so needless to say it was a fair shock to my system. But Draco here was well prepared for the type of politics we have to play in the common room and the hallways. It's a tightrope we have to walk, keeping our housemates at arm's length behind closed doors for safety's sake but having to support them in public. A full third of our house has family who were death eaters in the war, another third were open sympathizers to you-know-who's cause, the last third were neutral on the surface but who knows what they really thought or how they really acted while the war was on. When McTavish took your rememberall we couldn't have intervened if we wanted to, not even when he insulted our cousin. It's the most important rule in Slytherin - we keep up the appearance of house unity at all costs outside the common room."
Neville simply couldn't imagine living like that "That sounds absolutely terrible," he said softly "I may have to share a dorm room with three other lads, but I can at least trust that none of them will try and smother me in my sleep if we don't get along," he said aiming for some levity. Malfoy snorted "Now that really does sound terrible. Honestly, more than two to a room. It's barbaric. You know, the Slytherin upperclassmen actually get single rooms to themselves that they don't have to share? Fifth through seventh years dorm solo. Oh I can't wait," he said, a smarmy grin on his face. Weasley elbowed him sharply and he scowled.
"It's the truth though, Longbottom. We've been jealous. Not only do you get to be in the same house as our cousins and spend all the time you like with them… you're also in the same house as all of my siblings. There's never been a Weasley sorted into Slytherin before, ever! They said they still love me just the same in the letters I've gotten, but I can't help but feel as if I've disappointed my parents. The hat said it made the choice it did because I'm clever and cunning, but what if I'm really just the one Weasley who wasn't good enough or brave enough for Gryffindor? Clearly I'm the one who's enough of a petty arsehole to bully someone who doesn't deserve it for making friends with my cousins. None of the rest of the Weasleys at Hogwarts have done that!" Ron ranted self-deprecatingly.
"My whole family thought I was a squib until my uncle threw me out a window to try andmake me have a burst of accidental magic," Neville found himself saying consolingly, to his own horrified disbelief. Why did he just admit that!?? Even if they were sorry about what they said they still hated him! He felt Thistle's little hand grip the hem of his sweater from where she stood behind him on the table.
"Even after getting my letter I was sure they'd turn me away at the doors when we got here, or sort me into Hufflepuff. It's not all been easy or fun for me just because I'm in Gryffindor," he continued "Professor McGonagall is tougher than a boiled owl, and she's my gran's best friend. I'm pretty sure they report back and forth to each other on my progress, whatever that means. The first potions class we had your head of house nearly dislocated my wrist just because I'd taken a few extra ingredients for Hermione to study. Which, now that I'm thinking about it, he's weirdly permissive of her eccentricities, don't you think? I mean don't get me wrong I'm glad we were allowed to go with her, but we're first years and he took us into the forbidden forest after dark so she could go have a chat with a centaur. It's a bit funny, isn't it? He took points from Seamus last week for breathing too loud."
He noticed the other boys share a meaningful look and he huffed and crossed his arms "What do you know that I don't?" He demanded as sternly as he could manage, trying his best to channel his gran. To his shock and delight they wobbled under the Longbottom glare.
Malfoy pressed his forefingers to the inside corners of his eyes as if trying to staunch a headache "Professor Snape has a complicated role to play as the head of Slytherin house. Lots of the conservative old pureblood families essentially treat their children as spies to report back on everything that happens in the castle, so he has to assume that anytime there are snakes around he's being overtly monitored. He can't openly treat Gryffindors fairly or it would cause trouble for him. Hermione makes a difficult situation worse; she's a Gryffindor, she's the twin sister of the boy-who-lived-and-destroyed-the-dark-lord, she's a bloody werewolf… but she's also the head and Lord of one of the oldest and richest pureblood families in the country. So he has to show proper deference to her, even if she doesn't understand or expect it, and even if it upsets the other families."
"Someone's going to be unhappy no matter what he does. If he didn't treat her respectfully he'd certainly hear about it from some of the families, even if they don't actually like her. Plus he's got personal feelings involved because he and Harry's dad hated each other to the point of almost starting a blood feud, but Hermione did something to try and make up for it. I'm still not sure exactly what, but she felt obligated as head of house to try and make things right between them, so he's extra indulgent of her when maybe he shouldn't be for his own sake. That's what it's like being a Slytherin, Longbottom. Constant consideration for the appearance of propriety."
Neville was horrified "That sounds absolutely exhausting!" He exclaimed.
"It is," both snakes intoned wearily in unison.
He shifted and sat back down at the kitchen table, gesturing for them to join him. When they did, he pushed the plate of biscuits towards the center of the table, and took one for himself. It didn't escape his notice that they only bit onto their own after he had already started eating his. The thought that they might be wary of him trying to poison them was so beyond the realm of reality that it sent him spiraling into somewhat hysterical giggles. "You two are really too much," he mumbled with an amused shake of his head.
"I'd be jealous too if I were in your shoes," he said after giving their situation some more thought. The pair of them looked hilariously torn between wanting to deny that they'd admitted to being jealous and grateful that he empathized. He realized he was starting to understand the way their Slytherin mentality worked, and sighed "What I don't understand is why you don't just come spend time in the tower if you feel like you're not getting to see your family enough," he said offhandedly. As he said this identical frowns bloomed on both of the other boys' faces.
"Are you mad, Longbottom? We'd be thrown out the tower windows if we were caught trying to sneak in," Weasley said, sounding both frustrated and sad. He'd probably spent most of his childhood imagining living in that very tower. Neville frowned "Well yes, probably. But why would you be sneaking in in the first place? Just come visit through the front door like siblings from the other houses do," he answered, bewildered by the other boy's strange logic. Both boys across from him froze, their brows raised practically to their hairlines.
"…I'm sorry, what?" Malfoy asked incredulously.
"What do you mean, what?" Neville retorted, thoroughly confused.
"Are you saying people from other houses can just, what, invite themselves for tea at the tower? And they won't be turned away - not even Slytherins?" Malfoy responded, his brow furrowed in suspicious disbelief.
Neville suddenly felt like laughing "This is so ridiculous! For such clever blokes you two somehow make each other stupid when you work together... Yes, people's siblings come and visit from other houses all the time. Parvati's twin sister Padma is a Ravenclaw and she practically lives up in the girls dorm with Hermione and the rest of them. Cedric's a Hufflepuff and he doesn't even technically have relatives in the tower, he just likes to visit the Weasleys because they're neighbors and he's a friendly fella. You don't need to sneak in, and you don't even need some excuse either, you can come and see your family whenever you feel like. I'm sure you'll be asked what you're doing if you skulk around like mashers, but I promise no one's going to kick you out," he said earnestly.
He couldn't believe the idiots had worked themselves up into such a nasty lather over so silly a thing. They had decided it was easier to take it out on him than risk the vulnerability of asking for attention when they needed it. It was the most foolish and childish thing he'd ever heard of.
Somehow though, he found it endearing. He'd spent a lot of time by himself as a child, alone and lonely. He could sympathize with the two of them. Neither of them had probably ever suffered a single moment's worth of having to make do with only their own company. Weasley had a sea of older siblings around even if they weren't always kind or particularly attentive, and Malfoy had a pair of doting parents to cater to his every little whim. No wonder they'd gone mad in less than a month with only each other to bounce off of.
A thought took root and started to blossom in Neville's mind that was so hilarious he couldn't help but laugh. The two snakes cut their eyes at him warily, but he shook his head "I have the best idea for a prank we can pull together," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Early on Tuesday morning, an exhausted Harry and Hermione climbed through the portrait hole into the tower. It had been a long night following an already long and difficult day. The pair of them wanted nothing more than to stay home with their father and Remus and cuddle up into a pile of fur and sleep the day away, mourning Ófnir's disappearance in privacy. It was still so fresh, like an open wound.
Despite her declaration on Saturday that they were to be back to school the day following the full moon, Professor McGonagall had taken one look at them as they'd come through the floo in her office and given them leave of their classes for the day with instructions to head straight to their beds. They had thanked her and headed from her office to the tower, a slow and steady march through the still sleeping castle. The portrait of the fat lady, who would normally have reprimanded any other students out of the common room at such an hour, kindly offered them her sympathies for their night of sleep lost.
What they saw when they entered the common room took a moment to parse. At the low coffee table in front of the fireplace, Ron and Percy were playing what looked like a rather serious game of wizard's chess. Draco was knelt next to the board, keeping it at eye level and commentating their moves like a quidditch announcer. Fred, George, and Neville were watching from the sidelines like rowdy fans at a match. Ron took one of Percy's bishops and they burst into uproarious applause, cheering and hollering boisterously.
Harry shot a nervous look at the stairs leading up to the dorms, but Hermione flicked his ear. He was still getting used to his hearing being so enhanced while he was in his human form, and he concentrated to listen more closely. When he did so he noticed a low frequency ambient buzz that he realized was a silencing spell. He tugged on the end of one of her curls and nodded, and through their mental space she passed along the sensation of pride that he was quickly learning to master his abilities. It filled his chest with warmth.
Following her over to the couches, he sat next to Ron while she sat opposite next to Percy. She leaned her head on their older cousin's shoulder "You'll get him Perce, show him your killer instinct," she said encouragingly, if a bit viciously, and the boy snorted and put his arm around her shoulder, patting her arm. "I'd bare my teeth, but they're not nearly so sharp as yours, are they? Doesn't exactly have the same effect," he said with a grin. When she smiled back up at him her teeth were almost too big for her mouth, and he shuddered at the sight but then laughed. He jostled his shoulder, turning her head towards Ron "Point those things that way if you mean to help me out," he said dryly, and she chomped the air playfully.
In his surprise Ron dropped the pawn he'd been about to move, and scowled when his older brother told him he'd lost it fair and square. He yelped as it poked his leg with its little sword, greatly displeased with having been taken out of the game before its time.
"This was supposed to be a prank, acting like we always hang out here all together when you got back," Neville admitted from behind her on the sofa, and she could hear the smile in his voice. Draco rolled his eyes "Salazar's sake, Longbottom, do you announce it when you fart as well? You didn't even let them stew in it for a while!" He complained with a groan.
"I'd like to think of it rather as a nice little surprise party with all our favorite people," her brother said, and she immediately hummed her agreement. "Kipper," she called, and their little elf appeared on the table next to the chessboard "can we please get a breakfast spread up here if it's not too much trouble? And maybe something sweet as well?" She asked softly. The elf sighed happily and nodded "Of course, Mistress Hermie, ofcourse! Kipper be heading to the kitchens right now," she said, and popped away.
She was no mind reader except for when it came to her brother, but she had a lifetime of experience using her powerful ears and nose to figure out what was going on with the people around her, what they were doing and feeling. On top of the delightful surprise of seeing them all here together in one place, she could sense that something had shifted between her cousins and her best friend in the few days that her and her brother had been gone. There had been an animosity before that she'd tried not to feed, hoping it would dissipate on its own if she ignored it. Knowing how unhealthy that was she'd expected to come back to find it worse than ever, but was instead pleasantly surprised to see it seemed to have taken care of itself.
She didn't know what it had all really been about and she didn't think she wanted to. Whatever it was they'd solved it themselves, that was all she needed to know.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
(Note: As of this chapter, the entirety of what has been published of this story so far on AO3 has been successfully crossposted. In the future I will update the story here and there at roughly the same time as soon as new chapters are ready to be posted! This story can be found with the same title on the archive where I have the same user name, or at the following link /works/52408333/chapters/139430929)