Chapter 26 - Back Together

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Work Song - Hozier

"I BLOODY TOLD YOU, RONALD!"

Draco's magic was wildly crackling, statically charging the air around him causing the ornaments and photo frames dotted around their borrowed chambers to tinkle and hum. Even the ground seemed to be vibrating. Ron had taken a defensive stance and cast a silent protection charm around himself and his husband, he hadn't seen Draco this wild after a nightmare for a very long time. If he was honest, he hoped he never would have to see draco this distressed again, and Draco had been doing so amazingly well, coming on so far from the sallow, cruel child he had been forced into being. Fiendfyre has a habit of forcing one to examine their perspectives, he had once quipped.

It had taken Draco a year after moving in with the Weasley's for the nightmares to start. He had struggled to find his place in the new growing world and it seemed that, through the persistence and patience of Molly and Arthur, he was settling into something of a new normal whilst under his house arrest, and the structure offered him a peace gmhe had never before experienced. It was then, in his solitude, the Pandora's box of his mind began to release the trapped demons. That next year, there was not a single night where that disgusting snake didn't slither through his dreams, or scenes from his past where he sneered and scoffed and acted ever the entitled prince. How the mighty had fallen. The dreams plagued him even in his waking hours. Molly had taken the hard decision to ban The Daily Prophet entering the Burrow for fear of any news offsetting any progress Draco made. But however hard they tried, they could not protect the poor boy from his own mind. He had, for such a young man, managed to build a strong skill in occlusion, and regularly shut down before them, becoming the spitting image of his father. This was not either Weasley's first rodeo, however, and they made sure that even when he threw up his strongest shields, they would always be there on the other side for him. It broke him more than anything else, but once he found himself at his lowest point, their resilience and love did something he never thought possible. They put him back together.

Ron had been a bewildering bonus. He had watched everything fall apart for the arrogant blonde. He himself had gone through his wild years and the break up with Hermione. His finding himself and exploring his own personality in a way he never thought he could or would. Coming back a secure, whole, humble and grounded man from the angry boy who had stormed off from The Burrow cursing Hermione for her betrayal of their friendship by never being able to love him. Or, as he figured out on his travels, his inability to make them love one another. This Ron saw the cracks in Draco that were created when he had been broken, and had gilted them with the finest of gold. He had learned how to tame and angry dragon, and had never flinched or faltered.

Until now.

Draco was a strong enough wizard. Easily he and Ron were on par magically, and both men were settled in this. Being surrounded by the fantastic and formidable, and spending so much wasted time envying it, had led to them both accepting in adulthood a level of understanding and comfort in where they were. But, Ron always acknowledged that, deep within his soulmate, he could sense that ancient spark. It had intensified when they had bound themselves to one another in marriage, but Ron had sensed it the first time they kissed. As their magics had met one another in that drunken, fiery mess, Ron had sensed a spark of something more, although what he could ever tangibly call it, he could never say. He had been meaning to talk to Sirius about it, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it definitely was a Black thing. Inside Draco, however faint, flowed a strand of a very ancient bloodline, even more prestigious and infamous than the Malfoy line his mannerisms may reflect.

Now, however, Draco's magic was running out of control. Ron could not get within 3 feet of his lover without the magic firmly shutting him out. When he would reach for his wand, it would be pushed away from his grasp, as if the magic was running its event and he was just meant to wait until it was finished. Hermione would be fascinated with this if she saw it, Ron couldn't help but think as he helplessly stood, hands reaching out to Draco, trying to talk him back to the present.

"Babe, you were asleep. We were asleep, actually. I'm here. We are at Hogwarts. You woke up earlier saying you heard your mum. I need you to talk to me, Dray. I need you to hear me…"

"She needs me. I can…feel…" Draco stretched out his arms in jerky movement that Ron was sure would have hurt. This was an insane display, and Ron could only continue to repeat himself in an even, steady tone. Draco let out a loud, anguished hiss between gritted teeth and his body pulled itself into a taut stretch, arms wide apart, and Ron watched in horror as it seemed Draco's very veins protruded and pulsed to the surface, scurrying over his body like writhing blue and green scales beneath a porcelain white sheet. His eyes rolled and before Rong could reach him Draco opened his mouth wide, a black smoke emitting bilious tendrils that curled and snaked and wrapped themselves around the shaking, wrought body. Ron felt the tears streaming down his face but found he could not say a word or move. He was frozen to the spot against his will. Everything in his mind was screaming that he needed to get to Draco, he needed to save him, he needed to know what was going on!

Draco felt as if his body were on fire and being continually submerged in ice. This nightmare had been different. He had curled up next to Ron and allowed himself to drift back off to sleep, fitful as it was. He had not been able to shake what he had heard from his mind, so he was unsurprised when memories of holidaying with his mother, days out at spas and salons in Paris while his father worked. Good, wholesome memories, as few and far between as they could be.

Draco…

Christmas in the manor when father had business in Belize. Just him, mother and the dogs.

Draco…

Dragon Alley, of course father had to come with them and ruin the whole day as they couldn't as much as laugh as it was unbecoming of Malfoys to show emotion.

DRACO, HELP ME…

"MOTHER!" Draco bellowed in the dark swirling mist, cephalopod tendrils of statically charged smoke sting against his legs, crawling and flicking at his body, the sensation like fangs piercing his skin but not leaving single mark.

"MOTHER! TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE? HOW CAN I HELP YOU? TELL ME!"

Draco was frantic, whipping around this way and that, flowing the floating voice that is clearly his mother. Then he heads, distant and faint but strong, another voice calling to him. Calling him home.

"Drake, you're scaring me now. Come back to me, Draco. I MEAN IT. Don't make me get Hermione! Draco! Baby! Come on!"

Reach out to her boy, find her in the dark…

"RON? MUM? ANYONE! SOMEONE! FOR THE GODS SAKE!" Draco, finally exhausted with movement, stood stock still. He even allowed himself a brattish foot stamp. His nightmares usually relented at this point and, quite frankly, this was just frustrating. He needed to stop and think. He breathed, deeply, his godfather's teachings running through his mind. It always helped to imagine Severus Snape explaining something, it was the cadence and timbre that was something melodic and calming. It had been his original grounding tool, memories of Uncle Severus reading him bedtime stories when he was young, drowning out his parents arguing or the revelry shrieks.

"Focus, Draco. Ground yourself. Close your mind."

As Draco levelled his breathing, he focused on his senses on at a time. He could feel the stings of the crawling smoke and his strong, erratic heart beating. He could smell something that tickled a memory, the faintest scent of lilac and lavender, his mothers perfume. He could see nothing, eyes open or closed he was blinded yet this felt strangely comforting, clearly whatever was happening needed something deeper within him than his surface senses.

He could hear her, she was weeping, she was…singing…chanting…saying words he couldn't quite make out. He slowly felt the compulsion to open his eyes. He could see her. She was bleeding. He reached out…he can't move…he can't touch her…he reaches out with his magic…he pushes further, his magic now grasping forwards…

Ron was thankful for his shield as the black cocoon pulsed and whizzed wildly around Draco and, as suddenly as it had appeared, shattered into a million glistening shards of obsidian glass, floating in the air and disappearing into the nothingness as they hit the ground. Draco, eyes open, mouth now closed, skin flushed and shining with sweat, turned his eyes to Ron, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across his lips and seemingly lighting up the room, took two steps towards his love, and fainted. Ron, finally having his movements return, lunged forward, catching Draco moments before he crumpled go the ground.

"What the fuck was even that?!?" Ron exclaimed as he bundled Draco into his lap, smoothing the hair from his face as Draco naturally curled into the warmth of the hug and let out a little snore.

"Now, he sleeps" Ron chuckled, summoning pillows and a blanket over to the both of them and snuggling into a position on the floor in the only spot clear enough of debris. They could sleep now, and talk about this in the morning. Whatever this was.

-o0o-_

"Severus? You good, man?"

Sirius had found a great cushion in Moony's lap, as if he put his head their his hair got played with and that was really, really nice. He had lazily cast his eye around the room, the atmosphere languid and tranquil despite Severus being there. However, Sirius sensed something was amiss. Severus had been more than comfortable at his perch in the armchair, he'd even removed his dress frock and rolled his sleeves to the elbow, his neck tie draped over the shoulder of the wing back. Lafayette had chosen to luxuriate on the chez opposite, finishing the Dionysian circle of zen.

"Of course, Black. Just because I don't smoke with you potheads doesn't mean I don't do it…"

"Pffffft, knew it. I've smelled it on you in the Great Hall. Neville grows some good shit."

Remus chortled, the warmth and rumble making Sirius almost purr.

"This castle really needs to back off though. It has Minerva now, it doesn't need to keep alerting me of weird shit going on." Severus murmured, the usual acid that would have accompanied anything similar to what he had so openly stated absent in his sated calm.

"What?" Sirius rolled onto his side, nudging the back of his head into Remus's hand to encourage continued pets, which was met with a playful tut but no move to stop.

"I still feel the castle and she still feels the need to alert me of anything amiss. Probably just Peeves doing something to the Yanks…"

"Hey! Americans, please baby" Lafayette shot a look from his prostrate position, one arm lazily dangling whilst the other propped his head against the pillows.

Severus simply rolled his eyes, allowing his head to rest against the back of his seat. This fabric was very nice. It was so soft beneath his calloused fingers. He wondered what else was soft and instantly his eyes glanced over to the man enjoying a lounge across from him. His skin looked soft in the cascading candlelight and the flickering dance of the flames. Probably not the same soft as the chair, probably a much nicerer soft.

Nicerer isn't a word, Snape, get it together.

Shan't, Severus petulantly thought back. He had never felt so relaxed, and he didn't intend to let anything vexate him in this state. He was safe, amongst friends. This should have been his teenage experience. He wondered, if he had been sorted into Gryffindor, would things have been like this instead of the constant competition and politics of Slytherin?

The castle nuzzled his consciousness lies a persistent, hungry cat, trying to get his attention through affection this time rather than nagging.

Can I not have this one night? After everything else I've given, can I just have this one?

His imploring heart made the castle pause it's pestering, almost as if it was conceding, just this once. The poor chap deserved this. Farbeit for the castle to ruin this night for him. Narcissa's being found in the Department of Mysteries, the unlocking of ancient magic, the creation of new life and the beginning of the end could, for this one night, wait.