With many vines wrapping around its four stone pillars and forming a solid roof of foliage, the large gazebo shelters the two boys from the afternoon sun as a breeze, soft and cool, toys with Draco's hair. Despite this coolness, Draco's ears heat up under the unfaltering gaze of a house elf.
The house elf, Dobby, stands just off to the side of the next closest wooden bench from where Draco is trying to eat. The ordinarily savory flavor of the Yorkshire pudding tastes rather bland as Draco keeps glancing over at the house elf, who stares back with an expression blander than the late lunch. Dobby isn't even bothering with invisibility like he should be. He's just standing there, staring like he's waiting for Draco to run off and try to grab magic that'll make him disappear.
Draco's not a toddler who needs to be watched by a nanny house elf. He's seven, old enough to know how to follow advice when it comes to risky magic. Even if an inferior house elf is the one who gave him the advice in the first place.
"Do you think there's anything in the library about this?" Theodore says suddenly, the puffy meal in his hand nearly gone with how quickly he's eating, "The Malfoy library, I mean."
Draco turns away from the house elf who's still staring, his tone quick and short, "About what?"
"The shadows by the hawthorns," Theo answers quickly, "maybe someone else noticed them and wrote about them," the other boy's voice is bright with excitement, like he didn't just get scolded by a house elf.
"I suppose we'll just go read then." Of course Theodore Nott would run back to his books right after encountering something as exciting as cold, fleeing shadows. Draco isn't sure why he would expect something else, like more proper exploring. Of course, with that ugly elf watching, it's not like they'll be able to do any more of that today.
Theodore doesn't respond. Just stares at him with those sharp blue eyes before his gaze cuts over Draco's shoulder to the house elf.
"Or we could look around the Manor," Theodore says softly, looking just at Draco now, "we won't touch anything, but we can at least see if there's any of those shadows inside."
Draco frowns. That's certainly far more appealing than sitting around reading, but…
"I can't see them though, so what am I supposed to do while you look?" Draco's voice might be a little high since Theo winces very, very slightly.
"Maybe," Theodore bites the corner of his lip in thought, "well, you could try to get your hands on them later. When we know how not to disappear while touching them." The last sentence rushes out quickly, as if not to give a meddling house elf time to complain.
" I mean, we could later ask Dobby how house elves are able to use shadows without having trouble," Theodore continues as if Dobby isn't right there, eavesdropping on them, "Elves probably don't use them in the same way that a wizard would, but at least we'll have a starting point to figure it out for ourselves."
Figuring how to use the shadows for themselves in the proper wizard way sounds appealing, now that Draco really thinks about it. It could even be something to show off to Mother and Father later, to make them more proud of Draco's talents than they were before.
"Alright," Draco says decisively. He looks back to the side at Dobby who's now watching with an expression that's decidedly not bland.
"When we're done looking, Dobby, you're going to tell us how house elves use the old shadows." The only ridiculous part of Theodore's suggestion was that they'd ask the house elf to tell them something that important instead of ordering him to do it. But there's no need to point out Theodore's blunder when the rest of his advice was pretty good.
Dobby narrows his eyes in that uncharacteristic way that he's been acting since he scolded Draco earlier.
"Of course, Master Draco, Dobby will tell you how house elves use them when you're done searching the entire Manor."
They're not even a quarter of the way through searching once it's time for dinner. Malfoy Manor is massive, with rooms upon rooms tucked away in long hallways. Centuries of enlargement wards, each added by the various generations of Malfoys, have made the Manor far, far larger on the inside than it looks from the front gates. It isn't as massive as the grounds themselves, but Draco wouldn't be surprised if it was close.
To make matters worse, there's some rooms that only appear in the presence of a Malfoy; so, just when it looks like a whole set of rooms have been searched, another one or three doors appear right there in the hall.
And that's not even getting to the dungeons, which Draco is certainly not supposed to go into without Mother or Father accompanying him. Not if he doesn't want his Comet's Tail snapped in half like Father threatened the one time Draco made it half-way down the stairs on his own.
The new locks to the cellar burned hot the few times Draco has tried to touch them when his parents were sleeping. He'll figure his way around them eventually, but for now, their search is confined to the aboveground portion of the Manor. And to tomorrow morning since Mother will expect Draco to be in his bedroom after dinner.
Theodore doesn't have any properly formal dress robes for his role as a guest. Plus, the knees of his trousers are stained with dirt from their adventures today. Father certainly notices, his sharp grey eyes flashing in the spelled candle lights from the chandeliers. But he doesn't say anything like he would if Draco had dared come in like that. Father only tightly smiles because apparently he has to treat guests a certain way too, regardless of whether he disagrees with their appearances or not.
"Draco, Theodore," Mother warmly greets them as they seat themselves near her. The table's shrunk, like it often does whenever it's just Draco and his parents eating. Instead of stretching from one end of the dining hall to the other, it now fits only six chairs right in the center of the large room.
Draco sits next to Mother like he always does. Theodore settles in the seat next to him while briefly glancing at Mother and Father.
"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Theodore greets politely before looking at the meal that appears out of thin air.
No doubt some of the summoned serving dishes are from Dobby. But the house elf had the sense to turn himself invisible just before dinner, the most likely time when Father would spot him.
Draco may have been lenient enough to ignore the house elf's intrusive visibility, but Father certainly would not be so forgiving of Dobby.
Strange as it is, it isn't Father who leads the dinner conversations like he always does when guests are over, but Mother who guides them.
"So, how was your day?" Mother asks with interest. It's an innocent question, and Mother's interest in whatever Draco's doing is perfectly normal. But…
He knows exactly how telling Mother about shadows that make boys disappear will go. Neither of his parents would ever let him outside ever again after that.
"We went flying," Theodore answers, "Draco showed me where the woodlands were since I've never had the chance to see them before."
Theo's voice is soft and light, leaving no hint that anyone should doubt the truth of his words. And his words are true, Draco supposes, just missing a lot of details that Mother and Father don't need to know about just yet.
Mother looks directly at Theodore, no doubt surprised that he spoke first. A day ago, Draco would have been surprised too. Theodore Nott never spoke first, sometimes not even answering Draco, or any of the other pureblood children, tried to talk to him during their get-togethers.
Of course, that was before Theodore was his friend, so the rules are different. Now, Theo is quick to speak up to help Draco make afternoon adventures sound more appealing for his parents.
"Theodore even got to use the Comet's Tail too. I think that was a bit more fun than the other brooms he's tried," Draco chimes in, bending the truth like he's supposed to in order to protect Theodore's dignity. His parents don't need to know that Theo's afraid of flying after all.
The dinner with the Malfoys was nice. Even talking to Mr. Malfoy was pleasant once he started proudly describing a bit of the interesting history of the lands around Malfoy Manor to Theodore. Apparently there had been a little Muggle town in the midst of those woodlands, just before the Black Death of centuries past swallowed it up.
Not that Mr. Malfoy went into that particular detail during a dinner conversation. Taken from the library shelves when Draco had been dressing for dinner, the journal in Theodore's hands describes it in great depth, with a proud Malfoy ancestor writing on how he did absolutely nothing at all as the community of his muggle neighbors withered away from the Plague.
As he sits cross legged on the bed, the quilt beneath Theodore is as comfortable as the weight of the old book in his hands. From across the bedroom, the slow and steady breaths of a sleeping Draco Malfoy create a nice ambience. One where Theodore isn't alone in a silent, silent room by himself.
Theo turns another page, the full moonlight that shines through the window just bright enough for him to still see the words on the yellowed parchment.
He hasn't seen anything yet besides those pages. No half-formed images of potion vials and wrinkled hands that aren't his. Nor has he felt the slosh of liquid down his throat. Only the warmth of the meal in his stomach as he sits in the patch of moonlight reading.
The breath enters Theo's lungs calmly and steadily as he keeps focusing on the feeling of the pages in his hands. He tries not to think too much past the quill-written words. He can't tempt those images to come haunt him again, yet Theo can't quite help thinking back to just after that late lunch.
Draco had been leading him back to the manor, excitement making his steps quick. Theo hadn't been sad, he hadn't been thinking about Mother, but still that glimpse of something else had passed over his eyes.
The clearing surrounding Nott Manor had been brightly lit in the afternoon sun, almost to the point that Theo had nearly lost sight of Draco walking ahead of him. The cool stone of the entranceway had pressed against his shoulder even as a cool breeze blew unimpeded past Theo as he tried not to stumble.
The man he had seen in that half-vision had looked a bit like Uncle Felix. Taller, yes, and his hair more raggedly cut than the slick style Felix has worn since Theodore can remember. But the features of his face nearly matched that gaunt look that Felix's has always had.
There had still been one of those accursed clear vials, carefully sipped down a mouthful at a time. Even so, the calm settling in couldn't smother the sharp stab of relief when the shoulders of the man before him had slumped and the fiery light in the man's eyes had dimmed into despair.
Evan Rosier wouldn't have to die today.
That single thought, a sentiment not Theodore's own but there all the same lingers over him like a lethifold, waiting for him to try to fall asleep. So, it can smother his thoughts, killing any chance of sleeping through the night with its weight.
So, Theodore keeps reading a long dead Malfoy's journal. Turning page after page as he concentrates on a mystery he wants to solve instead of one that keeps forcing its visions into his head.