The next few days flew by, each morning bringing with it a growing sense of anticipation and excitement for Izar. The cold shock of the lake that had once made him hesitate now felt invigorating, a bracing start to the day that cleared his mind and readied him for whatever lay ahead. But more than that, it was the stolen kisses, the quiet moments shared in the stillness of dawn, that made these mornings something he looked forward to. It was a secret slice of happiness, one that he and Oliver guarded closely.
On Halloween morning, however, that routine was broken for the first time since it began. Izar spotted the telltale signs of a relentless downpour outside as he made his way through the Slytherin Common Room, he could see the surface of the lake being disturbed by hundreds of drops of rain through the underwater windows, it seemed to have no end.
He wondered if Oliver would still want to go down to the lake in such weather. The thought of swimming in the freezing water while being pelted by rain wasn't exactly appealing, even if it meant more time with Oliver.
When he made his way through the castle he found Oliver waiting for him by the door to the main courtyard. The older boy's figure was silhouetted against the stormy sky, his posture relaxed despite the torrential rain that pounded the ground outside.
Izar approached quietly, pausing beside Oliver as he, too, looked out at the deluge. The rain was coming down in sheets, the wind driving it almost sideways, and the courtyard was quickly becoming a small lake of its own.
"Guess today's swim is off," Izar said with a half-smile, glancing over at Oliver. There was a tinge of disappointment in his voice, despite the fact that they would have been drenched the moment they stepped outside.
Oliver turned to him, a rueful grin on his face. "Yeah, probably not the best idea unless we want to catch our death out there," he agreed, though there was a hint of regret in his tone as well. "Rain brings Grindylow's to the surface as well" he added, "Not fun."
The thought of being dragged under the surface by Grindylows made Izar shudder, he wondered if Oliver had learned that fact the hard way. With a small laugh he nudged Oliver playfully, "Didn't take you for a Magizoologist. Still keeping secrets?"
Oliver chuckled at Izar's playful nudge, his grin widening. "Well, I wouldn't call myself an expert, but you pick up a thing or two when you swim enough in the lake," he replied with a wink. "Let's just say I've had enough close encounters with Grindylows to know when to steer clear. The Giant Squid normally keeps them away"
Izar raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're full of surprises. First, you're an amazing dulling partner, transfiguration master, and now you're telling me you're a part-time Magizoologist?" He joked.
Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "I wouldn't go that far… for any of those things, but glad to see you see me that way." His expression softened slightly as he looked out at the rain-soaked courtyard. "Shame, though. I was looking forward to our swim."
Feeling a warmth spread through him at Oliver's words, Izar sensed the disappointment in his voice echoing his own feelings. "Yeah, me too," he admitted quietly, glancing back at Oliver. "But maybe we can find something else to do? I mean, we don't have to let a little rain ruin our morning together."
Izar felt a warmth spread through him at Oliver's words, the disappointment in his voice echoing his own feelings. "Yeah, me too," he admitted quietly, glancing back at Oliver. "But maybe we can find something else to do? I mean, we don't have to let a little rain ruin our day."
Oliver's eyes lit up at the suggestion, a spark of excitement returning to his gaze. "You're right. Who needs a lake when we've got the whole castle to ourselves? How about we explore a bit, find somewhere cozy to wait out the storm?"
Izar's half-smile grew into a full one, the idea of wandering the castle with Oliver sounding far better than braving the storm outside. "I like the sound of that. Lead the way, Butler."
With that, Oliver turned away from the courtyard, motioning for Izar to follow. The two of them set off down the corridor, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet castle. Despite the storm raging outside, Izar felt a sense of calm settle over him, the thought of spending the morning with Oliver filling him with a quiet kind of happiness.
As they walked, Oliver kept up a steady stream of lighthearted banter, sharing stories of his past encounters with magical creatures, each one more outlandish than the last. Izar found himself laughing more than he had in days, the tension that had been building up inside him slowly melting away with each step they took.
Eventually, they found themselves in a familiar part of the castle, near one of the many hidden alcoves that Hogwarts was known for. Oliver spotted a particularly cozy-looking nook, complete with a cushioned bench and a large window overlooking the storm outside.
"How about here?" Oliver suggested, glancing over at Izar with a grin. "We can watch the rain without getting drenched."
Izar nodded, a contented smile on his face as he followed Oliver into the alcove. "Perfect."
They settled onto the bench, sitting close together, hands interwoven, as they watched the storm through the window. The rain continued to pour down, the wind howling against the glass, but inside their little nook, everything felt peaceful. The world outside seemed distant, the chaos of the storm a mere backdrop to the quiet connection they shared.
Izar glanced over at Oliver, who was gazing out at the rain with a thoughtful expression. "Thanks for this," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know it's not what we planned, but… it's nice."
Oliver nodded with a smile, theirs eyes meeting, there was an unspoken connection between the two of them in the silence. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, "has Draco come around yet? Or spoken to you at all?"
Izar's smile faltered slightly at the mention of Draco, the weight of that unresolved tension settling back onto his shoulders. He glanced down at their intertwined hands, feeling the warmth of Oliver's fingers against his own, a grounding presence in the storm of emotions swirling inside him.
"No," Izar admitted, his voice low and tinged with sadness. "He hasn't. It's like… he doesn't even want to try to understand. Every time I see him, it's like there's this wall between us that I can't break through."
Oliver's grip tightened slightly, a silent show of support. "I'm sorry, Izar," he said softly, his tone filled with genuine concern. "I know how much he means to you…"
Izar nodded, his throat tightening as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "He was like a brother to me," he said, his voice wavering. "But now… it's like he's a stranger. I keep hoping that maybe he'll come around, that he'll stop me in the hallway, apologies and say that he doesn't hate me, but…"
He trailed off, the words feeling too heavy to say out loud. The silence between them was thick, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was filled with understanding, with the weight of everything left unsaid. "The last thing I said to him was that I didn't want anything to do with him. What if… " he trailed off.
Oliver shifted slightly, turning to face Izar more fully. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know," he said gently, his eyes searching Izar's for any sign of what he was feeling. "Whatever happens with Draco… you have people who care about you, who see you for who you really are. And I'm one of them."
Izar looked up, meeting Oliver's gaze. There was so much sincerity in his eyes, so much warmth and understanding, that it made Izar's chest tighten in a different way. The sadness that had been weighing him down lifted slightly, replaced by a flicker of hope, of gratitude for the person standing beside him.
"Thank you, Oliver," Izar whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Oliver's smile was soft, almost shy, as he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from Izar's forehead. "You don't have to find out," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, they just sat there, the rain pattering against the window, the storm outside a distant memory. The unspoken connection between them deepened, their closeness a quiet reminder that, no matter what else happened, they had each other. And that was something worth holding onto.
The sound of distant footsteps and muffled chatter from students beginning to stir for the day reminded them both that the rest of the world still existed. Izar sighed softly, reluctant to let go of the peace they had found together in their secluded corner of the castle.
"We should probably head down to breakfast before all the good food is gone," Oliver suggested, his voice light but carrying a hint of reluctance.
Izar nodded, knowing they couldn't hide away forever. "Yeah, I suppose we should." He offered a small smile, squeezing Oliver's hand once more before letting go. "I wish we could sit together at breakfast."
Oliver's expression softened at Izar's words, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I wish we could too," he admitted, his voice tinged with the same reluctance that Izar felt. "But we both know how people talk around here. The last thing we need is to draw more attention."
Izar nodded, understanding the unspoken implications. Hogwarts was a place where rumours spread like wildfire, and the last thing either of them needed was to become the centre of unwanted gossip, especially with Umbridge around.
"I know," Izar said, his voice quiet. "It's just… it would be nice to not have to hide all the time."
Oliver reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Izar's arm in a comforting gesture. "We'll get there," he said softly, his eyes full of reassurance. "But for now, we have our moments together."
Oliver's leant towards him, his lips brushed against Izar's in a brief, tender kiss, the warmth of the gesture contrasting with the cool, stone walls of the castle surrounding them. When Oliver pulled back, there was a soft smile on his face, his eyes full of unspoken promises.
Izar felt his heart flutter, a mix of emotions swirling within him, excitement, fear, and a deep sense of connection to the boy standing before him. The kiss was brief, but it had been enough to remind him that, despite the challenges they faced, they had something real, something worth holding on to.
"That's our secret," Oliver whispered, his voice barely audible as he leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against Izar's. "Something just for us, until the time is right."
Izar nodded, his breath still catching slightly from the kiss. "Our secret," he agreed, his voice a mere whisper as well. He knew that the secrecy, the stolen moments, added a certain thrill to their relationship, but it also made him long for a time when they wouldn't have to hide, when they could be together openly.
They sat like that for a moment longer, savouring the closeness, before the sound of approaching footsteps reminded them of where they were. With a reluctant sigh, Oliver pulled back, giving Izar a final, reassuring smile.
With that, they reluctantly stood up, and made their way back through the castle, heading toward the entrance to the Great Hall. The noise of students talking and laughing grew louder as they approached, a stark reminder of the world they were stepping back into.
As they entered the Great Hall, Oliver cast a quick glance over at Izar, his eyes full of that familiar warmth, before they each made their way to their respective house tables. Izar took his usual spot at the Slytherin table, the clatter of plates and chatter of his housemates filling the air. Across the hall, Oliver joined his friends at the Ravenclaw table, slipping back into the rhythm of breakfast as if nothing had happened.
Izar settled into his seat at the Slytherin table, his mind still lingering on the quiet moments with Oliver, the sound of fluttering wings filled the Great Hall. The morning mail had arrived, and hundreds of owls swooped down from the high rafters, delivering letters and packages to the waiting students below.
He had for a few minutes as he absentmindedly buttered a piece of toast, only half-paying attention to the flurry of activity around him. He was startled from his thoughts when a large, elegant owl landed gracefully in front of him, extending its leg where a letter was tied with a dark green ribbon. The owl's piercing gaze and the pristine condition of the envelope immediately told Izar that this was no ordinary correspondence.
His heart skipped a beat as he untied the letter, recognising the Malfoy family seal pressed into the wax The letter was from Lucius Malfoy.
Izar's hands trembled slightly as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The handwriting was sharp and meticulous, just like Lucius himself. Izar could practically hear the man's cold, calculating voice as he read the words.
Izar Lestrange,
It is with a profound sense of disappointment that I find myself compelled to write to you once again. Despite the clear and direct guidance offered in my previous correspondence, it appears that my words have fallen on deaf ears. Reports from reliable sources confirm that you have continued down this path of reckless and abhorrent behaviour and lifestyle, flagrantly disregarding the warnings I have given.
You must understand, Izar, that this is not a matter to be taken lightly. The choices you are making, in regards to your homosexuality and particularly in your associations with less favourable people, are not just a personal affront to myself and the way that we raised you; they are a direct threat to the integrity of the Lestrange and Malfoy names. The implications of your behaviour extend far beyond the walls of Hogwarts, they have the potential to bring lasting shame upon our entire family if this information were to get to the wider public.
It seems you have either forgotten or chosen to ignore the weight of your heritage. Let me remind you: the Lestrange name has been built upon centuries of loyalty, power, and unwavering adherence to the values that define us as purebloods. Homosexuality or any other sexual deviance if forbidden. Your current course of action not only jeopardises your own future but also threatens to undo everything that generations before you have worked tirelessly to preserve.
I will make this very clear, Izar: your continued defiance will not be tolerated. If you persist in this disgraceful behaviour, you will leave me with no choice but to take decisive action. This is not a threat, but a promise. You will be disowned, cut off from both the Lestrange and Malfoy families, and left to fend for yourself without the protection, resources, or status that our names afford. You will be stripped of everything you have known, left to face the consequences of your actions alone.
This is your final warning. The time for leniency has passed. You must correct your behaviour immediately and realign yourself with the values and expectations of your bloodline. Consider carefully the ramifications of your decisions, for they will determine your future.
Do not test me, Izar. I have shown more patience than someone like you deserve, but my patience is not infinite. The path you are on will only lead to ruin if you do not change course.
Lucius Malfoy
Izar's hands shook as he finished reading the letter, the weight of Lucius Malfoy's words pressing down on him like a physical force. The cold, calculated tone of the letter was not just a reprimand; it was a threat, one that carried the full weight of his family's legacy and the dark history that came with it. The implication was clear: any further defiance would sever him from the only life he had ever known. He had no idea what he would do, he would be left to fend for himself, no money or support.
For a moment, the noise of the Great Hall seemed to fade into the background as Izar stared at the parchment, his mind racing. The threat of being disowned, of losing his place within both the Lestrange and Malfoy families, was a terrifying prospect. It wasn't just about losing material wealth or status, it was about losing the safety net that had protected him his entire life, flawed as it might be, no matter how much he hated it.
He folded the letter carefully, his mind reeling. Lucius had made it clear that any further deviation from the path of pureblood loyalty would result in his complete and utter isolation. And with the kind of power the Malfoy's wielded, that isolation would be absolute, he would not be able to seek help from any of his Slytherin friends families.
Izar glanced around the Great Hall, seeing his fellow students chatting and laughing, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him. Across the hall, he caught sight of Oliver, who was in the midst of a conversation with his friends, unaware of the letter that had just shaken Izar's world.
The connection he had been building with Oliver, the stolen moments, the secret smiles—everything he had begun to cherish suddenly felt fragile, like a delicate web that could be torn apart at any moment. Lucius's words echoed in his mind, warning him that his choices were not just his own, that they carried consequences that could ripple far beyond his control. He couldn't do it, he couldn't not be with Oliver, even if it meant losing everything.
As he pushed his half-eaten breakfast away, his appetite completely gone, Izar felt a deep sense of unease settle in his chest. The path ahead of him was obvious, he would most likely be disowned soon. He just needed to put a plan in place for what to do when it happened.
But what could he do? Staying at Hogwarts beyond the school year wasn't an option; the castle might be his refuge now, but come summer, he would be forced to leave. The thought of returning to Malfoy Manor, or anywhere within his family's reach, filled him with dread. Asking Oliver for help was tempting, but he knew it would be unfair to burden him with the consequences of his own rebellion. Oliver had his own life, his own family, and Izar couldn't drag him into the mess that was about to unfold.
Izar's mind raced through potential plans. Could he go to McGonagall? She seemed to have developed a soft spot for him, perhaps sensing the conflict within him, or perhaps just because she hated Umbridge. But even then, what could she do? Izar didn't have the answers yet, of what would happen but he knew one thing for certain: whatever choice he made, it would change everything.
With a deep breath, he pocketed the letter, he would think about it later. It was no much to take in right now that he had to try and salvage some resemblance of a life that would soon be taken away, he was sure of that, as he had no intention of complying. Standing up he looked over at Oliver briefly, who was busy laughing with his friends, there was no way he was giving up one of the only people that made him happy.
As Izar left the Great Hall, the weight of Lucius Malfoy's words pressed heavily on his chest. Each step felt heavier than the last, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. The warmth he had felt earlier with Oliver was now overshadowed by the cold reality of his family's looming disapproval. It was clear that he had to think about his next steps carefully, and he needed to do so without involving Oliver—for now, at least.
He wandered through the quiet corridors, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls as he sought some solitude to gather his thoughts. The weight of the letter hung in his pocket, a constant reminder of the ultimatum Lucius had laid out for him. How was he supposed to navigate this impossible situation?
A familiar voice broke through his thoughts.
"Izar? You alright?"
Harry's voice pulled him back to reality. Izar hadn't even realised he had wandered into the dungeons near the Potions classroom, where students were beginning to gather for the next lesson. Harry's concerned expression mirrored the worry Izar was trying to push aside.
Izar forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Harry didn't look convinced but didn't press further. Instead, he gave Izar a small nod and took a seat next to him in the classroom, an unspoken gesture of support. Since his fallout with Draco, Izar and Harry had begun sitting together more often during Potions, which had become a quiet, unspoken understanding between them.
As they waited for Professor Snape to arrive, Harry leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low. "You seemed off at breakfast. Is it about the letter you got?"
Izar's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't even realised Harry had noticed, but it shouldn't have surprised him. "Yeah," Izar replied quietly, his voice barely audible over the murmurs of the other students. "It was from my Uncle Lucius."
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. "Lucius Malfoy? What did he have to say?"
"The usually," Izar shrugged not wanting to go into too much detail, mentioning the possibility of being disowned was not a conversation to be had before class was about to start, "mainly just how much of a disappointment I am because he's found out I'm gay," he shrugged, "Good thing he doesn't know about Oliver, he would go mental."
Harry's eyes flickered with surprise at Izar's bluntness, but he quickly recovered, his expression softening into something more empathetic. He didn't say anything at first, seemingly letting the weight of Izar's words hang between them for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful, as though he were treading on delicate ground.
"That's… awful, Izar. I can't imagine what that's like, having your family turn on you for something that's… just a part of who you are. You can't help being gay."
Izar shrugged again, trying to keep the mood light, though there was a trace of bitterness in his tone. "Yeah, well. It's not exactly unexpected. Pureblood families don't exactly have a reputation for being open-minded, do they?" He asked with a small forced laugh.
"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, his gaze still locked on Izar. "You shouldn't have to go through that alone. If… if you ever need to talk, you know, I'm here." He hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say more but held back.
Izar smiled faintly, appreciating the sentiment. "Thanks, Harry. That means a lot."
Harry returned the smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked down at the desk, fiddling with the edge of his Potions book as if trying to distract himself. "So, um… you and Oliver… you're together, then?"
There was a slight hesitation in Harry's voice, and if Izar had been paying closer attention, he might have noticed the subtle shift in Harry's posture, the way his shoulders tensed slightly, or how his fingers tightened around the edge of the book. But Izar, lost in his own thoughts about Lucius and the potential fallout of his family's rejection, missed the quiet tension in Harry's question.
"Yeah," Izar replied, his voice softening as he thought about Oliver. "I mean, its not official. He's not my boyfriend…" he said with a small smile as he shrugged, "But we've been… talking and stuff…it's good, you know? I really like him. He makes things feel… normal, even when everything else is falling apart."
Harry nodded, though there was a flicker of something in his expression, something that Izar couldn't place. "That's great," Harry said, though his voice sounded a little strained. "I'm glad you've found someone who makes you happy."
Izar smiled, the thought of Oliver easing some of the tension he'd been carrying. "Yeah, me too."
"That's great," Harry repeated, his voice a little too quiet, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to Izar.
Izar, still caught up in his thoughts about Oliver and the tension with his family, didn't notice the slight change in Harry's tone, or the way that Harry looked at him. "It's weird, though," Izar said after a moment. "I didn't think… well, I didn't expect things to happen this way. It's like, for the first time, I feel like I can just be myself with someone. No pretending, no expectations. He's the first boy I've liked who's liked me back."
Harry's voice cut through the moment, the question seeming to slip out. "So… who were the other boys you liked?" He asked his tone casual and curious.
Izar blinked, surprised by the question, but not put off. "Oh, you know…" He trailed off, glancing over at Harry with a half-smile, he could not admit to Harry that he was one of the boys, "It's not like there were a lot. Mostly just… crushes. People I admired from a distance. Pretty sure they were all straight anyway, so wouldn't have gone anywhere."
Harry nodded slowly, "Anyone I'd know?" he asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity as he leaned forward towards Izar, trying to stay as quiet as possible to avoid anyone hearing their conversation.
Izar paused, as though considering the question more seriously than Harry had expected. "Well… there was Cedric," Izar admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. "He was really cute, had that boy-next-door look you know?"
"Cedric, huh?" Harry said, his voice sounding rather blasé. "I mean, I can see why. He was… a good looking guy…" he trailed off for a moment and Izar was such he must have been thinking about the events of last year. With a shake of his head however Harry came back, "Anyone else?"
Izar chuckled, clearly amused by Harry's unexpected curiosity in his love life, but it was nice to have a boy who was so open to talking about it, Blaise and Theo seemed to avoid it. He didn't want to spoil that, so couldn't exactly say 'You' in this conversation, to tell Harry he had a crush on him. Not that he would act on it now, not with Oliver anyway.
"Well, there was this Gryffindor I had a bit of a crush on for a while, but I never did anything about it. I wasn't exactly ready to… you know, be open about all of that."
Harry's eyebrows shot up, but he kept his tone light. "A Gryffindor? Really?"
"Yeah, but I'm not going to tell you who," Izar smiled, "he's straight anyway, so nothing was going to happen between us." He shifted in his seat, clearly ready to move on from the topic. "But yeah, nothing serious ever came of any of my crushes. Until Oliver, that is."
The door to the Potions classroom creaked open, the low murmur of students' conversations instantly died down. Professor Snape swept into the room, his dark robes billowing behind him like a shadow. His cold, calculating gaze swept over the room, taking in the students with a mixture of disdain and indifference, as though their very presence was an inconvenience to him.
"Silence," he ordered, though no one had dared to speak since he entered. His voice was sharp and authoritative, sending a chill through the already dimly lit room. "Today, we will be brewing a particularly delicate Draught of Living Death. Those of you from a muggle background, will be familiar with this potions, it is used in Romeo and Juliet."
There was a collective rustling as students reached for their books, but Snape didn't wait for anyone to catch up.
"Turn to page 245. You will follow the instructions exactly, or you will find yourself wishing you had," Snape said in his usual drawling tone, his gaze lingering for a moment longer on Harry than necessary. "Failure, as always, will not be tolerated."
Harry stiffened slightly but kept his focus on preparing the ingredients, ignoring the way Snape seemed to take pleasure in making his life harder. Izar, still lost in thought after their earlier conversation, glanced at Harry briefly before turning his attention to his own work.
As they began gathering the necessary ingredients, Snape prowled the aisles between the desks, his presence looming over the students like a dark cloud. He stopped occasionally to sneer at a poorly chopped ingredient or a misplaced stirring technique, but for the most part, he remained silent, his eyes flicking between the cauldrons with calculated precision.
"Mr. Lestrange," Snape's voice suddenly cut through the air, making Izar flinch slightly. He hadn't realised Snape was standing directly behind him. "I hope you will be a positive influence on Mr Potter, and not the other way around."
Izar's looked up at Snape, nodded, keeping his voice steady. "Yes, Professor. I'll help him as much as I can."
Snape's dark eyes lingered on Izar for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he finally moved on. Izar let out a small breath of relief, his hands tightening around the knife as he began slicing the roots for the potion.
Harry shot him a sympathetic look but remained quiet, focusing on his own work. The tension between them from earlier had faded somewhat, replaced by the familiar pressure of navigating one of Snape's lessons without drawing too much negative attention.
"Remember," Snape's voice echoed through the room as he continued his rounds, "this potion requires absolute precision. One mistake, and the results could be... catastrophic."
The room remained silent as the students worked, their concentration unyielding under the ever-watchful eye of their professor. Izar occasionally leaned over and offered Harry help with his potion and how and when to stir it correctly.
As the lesson drew to a close, the tension in the room finally began to ease. Cauldrons bubbled gently, the potions within varying shades of pale lavender, indicating varying degrees of success. Izar's potion, with its near-perfect clarity and subtle shimmer, caught Snape's attention as he made his final rounds.
Snape stopped beside Izar's desk, his sharp eyes inspecting the Draught of Living Death with a practiced glance. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a subtle shift, a flicker of what might have been approval.
"Almost perfect, as always, 10 points to Slytherin" Snape said coolly, though the approval in his tone was unmistakable. His eyes darted toward Harry's potion, which was slightly less refined, still functional, but not nearly as pristine. Snape's lips curled into a scowl, and he gave a curt nod, muttering, "Barely acceptable, Potter. I am sure if it wasn't for Mr Lestrange's assistance this would be lethal."
As the Potions class ended, Izar packed up his things with a sense of unease, Lucius Malfoy's letter still weighing heavily on his mind. He felt the burn of anger and fear at the prospect of being disowned, and even more so at the pressure to give up his happiness for the sake of family loyalty. Harry lingered by his side, clearly sensing that something was wrong, but Izar gave him a forced smile.
"Thanks for the help," Harry said quietly, casting a glance over his shoulder as if expecting Snape to reappear at any moment, "I don't think I could have done it without you."
Izar shrugged. "No problem. You'll get the hang of it eventually."
Harry smiled faintly, but as they left the classroom, Izar's heart sank when he saw a familiar figure waiting just outside the dungeon, Draco. His face was set in a cold, unforgiving expression, his eyes sharp with anger.
Harry stiffened beside Izar, instantly on guard. "What does he want now?" he muttered under his breath.
Draco didn't look at Harry. His entire focus was on Izar, and his gaze was enough to cut through the air between them. "I need to talk to you," Draco said, his voice low and brimming with barely contained rage. "Alone."
Harry gave Izar a questioning look, clearly not trusting Draco. But Izar, despite the churn in his gut, nodded. "It's fine," he told Harry, though he wasn't sure it was. "I'll catch up with you later."
Harry hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Just… be careful."
With a final glance at Draco, Harry walked away, disappearing down the corridor. As soon as he was out of earshot, Draco's face twisted into a scowl, and he stepped closer to Izar, his voice sharp and angry.
"I know you got a letter from my father," Draco said, his eyes blazing. "And I'm guessing you know why."
Izar narrowed his eyes, the realisation starting to settle in. "You told him," he said, his voice laced with anger. "You told your father about me and Oliver."
Draco's lip curled into something between a sneer and a grimace. "Of course I did," he spat. "Someone had to. Do you have any idea what kind of disgrace you're bringing on our family? Being gay and dating a half-blood."
Izar felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stared at Draco, disbelief giving way to fury. "You betrayed me," he whispered, his voice low and seething. "You went to him and told him, knowing what he'd do to me."
Draco didn't flinch. If anything, his expression hardened. "Betrayed you? Are you serious? You've betrayed us! You're running around with some Ravenclaw boy, flaunting it like you don't care about your family, about our legacy! What did you think would happen?"
Izar's hands clenched into fists, his heart pounding in his chest. "I thought you were my friend!" he shot back, his voice shaking with anger. "I thought… even though you hated me being gay, that we fell out over this stupid thing, you would not go this far as to try and get me disowned."
"So you thought I would stand by you while you throw everything away?" Draco snapped, stepping closer, his face inches from Izar's. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't just about you, Izar. You're dragging our name through the mud, and I won't let you."
Izar's chest tightened, the anger and betrayal swirling inside him like a storm. "I'm not dragging anything through the mud. I'm choosing my own life and happiness."
Draco's eyes flashed with rage. "Choosing your own life? You're choosing to destroy everything! You think Father would have just sit back and let you disgrace the family like this? He would have found out about you and Butler eventually, but do you think you'll survive without the protection of our family?"
Izar met Draco's gaze with a fiery glare of his own. "I don't care what your Father does, he hatted me anyway," he hissed. "I won't live my life according to his rules, or yours. I am not going back to pretending to be straight… to be forced into a loveless marriage. I'm not going to give up the one thing that makes me happy just because you're too scared to stand up to your father."
Draco's face twisted in fury, and for a moment, Izar thought he might lash out. But instead, Draco's voice lowered, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "You're a fool, Izar. A naive, reckless fool. You think Oliver's worth all of this? Losing everything, your status, your family, your future?" He moved closer to Izar "He'll leave you in the end, you do know that, abandon you like you abandoned us, and then you'll have nothing. You'll be nothing."
Izar's breath caught in his throat, the rawness of Draco's words hitting deeper than he expected. But he refused to let Draco see the doubt, the fear that had crept into his mind ever since Lucius's letter arrived.
"I'd rather have nothing," Izar said, his voice steady, "than live my life as a lie."
Draco's expression darkened, his fists clenched at his sides. "You think you're so righteous, don't you? So noble, throwing everything away for some stupid romance. But this isn't a game, Izar. When Father disowns you and trust me, he will, you'll be alone. Don't come crawling to me when you realise how badly you've messed up."
Izar stared at Draco, the boy he had once thought of as a brother now standing before him as a stranger, consumed by anger and fear. "Trust me, I won't come crawling to you," he said quietly. "Plenty of people have been disowned by their families and survived."
Draco's face twisted in disgust, but beneath the anger, there was something else something that looked like hurt. "Fine," he snapped, his voice shaking with barely restrained emotion. "Go ahead. Throw your life away. But when it all falls apart, don't say I didn't warn you."
With that, Draco turned sharply on his heel, his robes billowing behind him as he stormed down the corridor. Izar stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of anger and sadness.
He was alone now. Truly alone, in a way he hadn't anticipated. Draco had made sure of that. And soon, Lucius would follow through on his threat. Izar would lose everything. But even as the weight of it all pressed down on him, one thought remained clear in his mind.
He wasn't going to give up Oliver. Not for Draco, not for Lucius, not for anyone.
As Izar's footsteps echoed as he began walking through the empty corridor, his mind raced with possibilities, his pulse still thrumming with the anger and betrayal from his confrontation with Draco. The full scope of what was coming down on him was finally settling in. Lucius wasn't bluffing. He would be cut off from the family—financially, socially, and magically, in some ways. There would be no place for him in the world of pureblood elite, no safety net waiting to catch him when the bottom fell out.
But then his thoughts shifted. He wasn't the first in the family to face this kind of situation.
His mind drifted to others who had been disowned by his family—his cousin Sirius Black and Aunt Andromeda Tonks came to mind. They had walked away from the suffocating grip of pureblood expectations, leaving behind the wealth, the status, and the approval of their families. They had survived, even thrived, despite it all. Izar paused mid-step, the seed of an idea forming in his mind.
Andromeda.
He knew so little about her, except that she had been disowned for marrying a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. That decision had severed her ties with the family, and she had been cast out, just like he was about to be. But she had managed to build a life for herself outside the pureblood circle. She'd raised a family, kept her dignity, and never looked back.
Izar's heart raced as he considered it. Could he reach out to her? He didn't even know where she lived or how she would react. She had no reason to welcome him with open arms. For all he knew, she despised every part of their family, and he couldn't blame her for it. But maybe, just maybe, she would understand.
It was a gamble, but at this point, Izar didn't have much to lose.
His mind was already working on how to get in contact with her. He could write a letter, explain his situation, though he wasn't even sure how to start. Would she believe him? Would she see him as just another arrogant Lestrange or Malfoy trying to worm his way into her life?
But then again, what choice did he have? If anyone would understand the weight of being disowned, of having to walk away from everything you once knew, it would be her.