Latent Darkness

by RayofDawn

Anti-hero story! (Don't read if you're looking for a hero tale.) Rated M for sex, blood, gore, character death. You've been warned. Jakob Quade, heir to the ancient and noble house of Quade, enters Hogwarts, a world where power is everything, loyalty is fleeting, and ambition comes at a cost. How far will he go, and what will he sacrifice in his pursuit of greatness?

41. Chapter 41: A new teacher and

Author's Note: Hello! I considered splitting this into two chapters since it ended up being quite long. I know some of you might think this is too much text, and to that, I'll just say… sorry?

Anyway, I won't make future chapters this long. I usually keep them between 10k-14k words max. Hope you enjoy this one!

P.S. If you like this fic, don't forget to like, follow, and, most importantly—leave a review or send me a PM with your thoughts! I love hearing what you think.

Now, on with the show!

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Chapter 41: A new teacher and one pesky girl.

Jakob met Narcissa's gaze, the realization hitting a second too late. Bellatrix Lestrange was here. The thought crashed over him, shock tightening his muscles before he forced the feeling down, smothering the reaction beneath a carefully measured smirk.

"I do hope I look my best," he responded smoothly, aiming to lighten the mood.

Narcissa sighed, rolling her eyes with a trace of amusement before turning away, leading the group from the murmuring crowd.

Draco fell into step beside his best friend, his usual arrogance replaced by something tenser, more restrained. His silver eyes met Jakob's, and in that single glance, everything was understood.

Bellatrix was free. She was waiting for them.

Jakob, always the one to steady the storm, let a flicker of unease slip through the cracks, just for a second. Just enough for Draco to see it.

The Malfoy heir's stride faltered for half a step before he caught himself, forcing every ounce of self-control to uphold his pureblood façade. Jakob never faltered, never worried. If he did now, then Draco knew his own fear wasn't unfounded.

Summer had barely begun, and already, it felt like it was over.

Jakob searched his memory for any information on the escaped convict. The only thing worth noting had been when Emma described the older woman as crazy and unpredictable. Coming from his sister, who thrived in chaos, that made Bellatrix extra dangerous.

Draco took hold of his father's arm while Jakob grasped Narcissa's. In the next instant, the world twisted around them as the familiar pull of Apparition ripped them away from the train station and toward whatever awaited them on the other side.

Suddenly, they were standing inside the floo room of Malfoy Manor. The space was grand but cold, the flickering glow of the fireplace casting long, stretching shadows across the marble floor.

His bags sat at his feet, and beside him, Draco shifted, straightening his shoulders just as Lucius' sharp, commanding voice echoed through the room.

"Dobby!"

A soft pop followed, and the tiny house-elf appeared, bowing so low his nose nearly brushed the marble floor. His large, bat-like ears twitched as his wide, fearful eyes darted between the three figures, settling on his master.

Lucius barely spared him a glance. "Take their bags to their rooms," he ordered in a clipped tone, devoid of any warmth.

Dobby flinched, his spindly fingers wringing together. "Y-yes, Master Malfoy," he stammered before quickly scurrying forward, struggling under the weight of their belongings as he hurried out of sight.

The room fell into silence. But only for a second.

Then, a high-pitched, melodic, cackling laugh shattered it. It slithered under Jakob's skin, raising the hairs at the back of his neck.

The sound carried from beyond the closed doors made Draco hold his breath as his eyes snapped towards the source. Even Lucius, who appeared composed as ever, tightened the grip on his cane.

Jakob didn't need to ask who the laugh belonged to.

The doors slammed open with a force that made the chandeliers above tremble.

And there she was.

Bellatrix Lestrange entered through the doorway, haltering at the threshold. Her dark eyes gleamed with unhinged delight as they swept over the group.

Then she let out another laugh, softer this time, as she took in the different reactions.

Draco's hand twitched as if he was about to reach for Jakob's hand without even realizing it. Gone was the arrogant, self-assured Malfoy heir. He looked small and fragile in a way Jakob had never seen before. He looked utterly terrified.

Jakob, on the other hand, remained perfectly still. He met her gaze with a carefully neutral expression, betraying nothing of what he really thought or felt at that moment.

Bellatrix tilted her head, watching him with the slow, predatory interest of a cat that had just found something new to toy with.

And then, she slowly moved towards them with light steps, her lips curling into a feral grin.

Jakob didn't miss the flicker of unease in Narcissa's expression as she watched her sister approach. Narcissa Malfoy, nervous in her own home. That was something the young Quade heir never thought he would see in his life.

His attention shifted back to Bellatrix. She looked healthier than he had expected. Azkaban had not broken her; if anything, it had at most sharpened her edges.

Her thick, curly, untamed black hair cascaded down her shoulders. She wore a sleek black dress, the kind of expensive fabric Jakob immediately recognized. Twillfitt and Tattings. The same boutique where he had once visited with Amy.

She eyed them both with an unsettling interest, her gaze flicking between the two boys as though deciding something.

"My darlings, I have missed you so!" Bellatrix cooed as she strode forward, her tone dripping with exaggerated warmth.

Her attention immediately latched onto Draco.

"You have grown so much, little Draco," she purred, reaching out to stroke his cheek with unnerving familiarity.

Jakob watched as his friend flinched at her touch, but he didn't move otherwise. He didn't dare.

Bellatrix's fingers lingered for a moment before her smile twisted. Without warning, she pinched his cheek—hard.

Draco barely held back a wince, but Jakob saw how his shoulders stiffened at the surprised pain. A deep red mark bloomed on his pale skin, standing out like an insult.

Bellatrix hummed, tilting her head as she studied him like a sculptor dissatisfied with their work.

"Too bad," she mused, tapping a finger against her lips. "You look like the spitting image of your father. I can hardly see any Black in you."

Lucius let out a slow, measured sigh.

"Bella," he began formally but with a pinch of an edge, "don't insult my heir the moment you greet him. First impressions, if you recall."

Bellatrix turned sharply as he flashed lord Malfoy a challenging glare, annoyed at the interruption.

Lucius did not flinch. His expression remained calm and controlled. But Jakob, who had spent years reading between the lines, noticed it clearly.

Lucius Malfoy was wary, which meant Lestrange was dangerous enough to warrant it.

After a brief pause that stretched uncomfortably long, Bellatrix rolled her eyes, dismissing Lucius's interruption with disinterest. Her attention slid past Draco, landing instead on the boy beside him. The moment their eyes met, she gasped, her expression shifting into something almost delightful.

"I recognize you," she murmured, taking a step closer. Her dark eyes traced his features with an almost unnerving intensity before a slow, eerie smile crept onto her lips.

"You've inherited the looks of your beautiful mother. Ahh, how many times have I drowned into those green eyes."

Jakob flashed his signature charming smile, the same one that had disarmed countless witches before. He let his voice take on a warm, respectful tone, topped with just a hint of vulnerability.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lestrange," Jakob said warmly, tilting his head just slightly, his tone respectful yet carrying a note of familiarity. "As you know, my mother is missing, but if she were here, I have no doubt she'd be pleased that we finally meet. I know I am."

He let some sincerity slip through, just enough to make the words feel genuine. His gaze remained steady as he continued. "And it is an honour to be the first of the Quade family to welcome you home."

The room fell silent.

Lucius blinked, his usually impassive face betraying a flicker of surprise as he turned his head towards the boy. Narcissa's lips slightly parted, caught off guard by Jakob's little speech.

Draco, still standing at his side, turned to look at him, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

And Bellatrix?

She simply stared.

For a long, stretched-out moment, her dark, sharp and unreadable eyes bore into his. Then, without warning, a peal of delighted laughter erupted from her lips, filling the hall with a maddening melodic sound.

Before Jakob could react, she lunged.

It was sudden, too sudden. She was upon him in an instant, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace. The impact startled him, not from the force, but from the certainty in how she held him.

The moment he felt her arms close around him, the young teenager caught the faintest scent of cinnamon mixed with something uniquely Bellatrix. It wasn't unpleasant. If anything, it was oddly comforting. A warmth spread through him, and before he even realized it, Jakob had tightened his hold around her waist in return.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he cursed his teenage hormones.

Bellatrix pulled back, tilting her head as she studied his face again, her sharp gaze going over every feature.

"You must be popular with the girls, little lamb," she teased, but as she continued to examine him, something in her expression shifted. The teasing glint faded into something more distant, more thoughtful.

"It's so strange," she murmured, her voice lower now. "You look like him. When he was younger. Before all the—"

"Bella," Lucius hissed, his voice cutting through their shared little moment.

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed, clearly displeased at the interruption. Her fingers twitched against Jakob's sleeve as if debating whether to push further. But after a beat, she merely gave a sharp sigh and turned her attention back to the boy.

Her smirk returned, though there was something sharper in it now, something knowing.

"You look older and stronger than a fifteen-year-old should," she said, squeezing his shoulders. Her smirk widened as she leaned in, lowering her voice.

"Been dabbling in naughty little rituals, Jakob?" She questioned in a mock seriousness.

Jakob could barely mask his confusion, but she continued before he could provide any excuse.

"You know those are illegal?" Bellatrix added, tilting her head dramatically.

Jakob gave a slow, deliberate nod, his tone perfectly even. "Yes, ma'am. I do."

Bellatrix chuckled, clearly entertained, while Lucius exhaled tiredly beside them.

Narcissa had been watching closely. She had seen how Bellatrix looked at Jakob, how her sharp, calculating gaze lingered just a little too long. What concerned her more, however, was how Jakob responded.

He was engaging her, matching her energy. That charming smile of his, the way he leaned in ever so slightly, the effortless way he made her laugh—it was working. They seemed to enjoy each other's company.

And that was very worrying.

Narcissa knew her sister well enough to recognize when she was interested in something—or someone.

Clearing her throat, she stepped in.

"Sister," she said, keeping her tone light, "perhaps we should give the boys some time to settle before dinner, don't you think?"

Bellatrix held Jakob's gaze for a moment longer as if weighing something in her mind before finally shifting her attention to Narcissa. There was a flicker of defiance in her eyes, but when her sister gave a firm, silent nod, she sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in exaggerated defeat.

"I guess you're right, sister," she drawled, though her tone showed a clear reluctance.

With that, she turned on her heel, her black dress sweeping elegantly behind her as she strode toward the door.

"Mrs. Lestrange?" Jakob's voice cut through the room, stopping the older witch in her tracks.

Bellatrix turned, her lips curling in amusement as she tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting with curiosity. "Mmm?"

"If you're not busy," he said respectfully, "I'd like to take some time to get to know you. I'm sure my mother would have wanted me to."

A slow, wicked smirk curled across Bellatrix's lips.

"I will visit when I have time," she promised.

And with that, she swept out of the room, her presence lingering even as the echo of her footsteps slowly faded down the hall.

For a brief moment, no one spoke.

Lucius remained unreadable with his composed expression, but Narcissa, who knew him best, caught the microscopic twitch in his right eye.

Draco, on the other hand, was far less composed, glancing between Jakob and the now-empty doorway with thinly veiled disbelief.

But Jakob, however, remained unaffected. He simply adjusted his sleeves, making sure he looked impeccable as always.

Without another word, the group gathered themselves and moved deeper into the manor.

"Why do you want to talk to her?" Draco whispered, slowing his steps so that the two boys lagged slightly behind Lucius and Narcissa.

Jakob quickly glanced toward the adults, ensuring they weren't paying attention before leaning in. "Because she has information I need," he murmured back.

Draco gave his friend a sceptic frown. "About what? How to lose your mind?"

Jakob smirked and shook his head, nodding towards the two before them. "I'll tell you later," he assured, keeping his tone casual as Lucius broke off and disappeared into another room.

The conversation fell into silence, the rhythmic echo of their footsteps against the polished floors being the only sound as the remaining three moved deeper into the manor.

They ascended the grand marble staircase with Jakob's guestroom awaiting him on the second floor, while Draco's quarters were a level higher.

As they reached the landing, Narcissa halted, placing a light but deliberate hand on Draco's shoulder, stopping him mid-step.

"Go ahead, darling," Narcissa said with a gentle but firm tone that left no room for argument. "I need to speak with Jakob for a moment."

Draco hesitated, his silver eyes flickering between his mother and best friend. There was a brief moment of reluctance before he shot Jakob a look—a silent promise that he would be over as soon as he had finished unpacking.

Jakob gave a subtle nod, understanding the unspoken message.

With a final glance back, Draco turned and ascended the staircase, disappearing toward his own quarters.

Jakob, ever the gentleman, gestured for Narcissa to lead the way. She offered him a soft smile in return before turning, gracefully making her way toward the first door on the right. Without a word, he followed.

Stepping inside, Jakob took in the familiar surroundings. This room had served as his quarters countless times before. It was nearly identical to his own at the Quade estate, with elegant, dark wood furnishing and rich emerald and silver accents. The only notable differences were the portraits on the walls and the slightly smaller bed.

Narcissa lingered near the doorway momentarily, carefully choosing her words before finally speaking.

"I'm pleased to see you've taken a natural liking to Aunt Bella," she began, giving him a gentle smile. "She and your mother were inseparable once, closer than sisters in many ways. I have no doubt that, in time, she will be just as fond of you, if she isn't already."

Jakob offered her a polite smile but didn't pause in his unpacking. With a tap of his wand, his trunk's lid swung open. A flick of his wrist sent his clothes into the air, neatly arranging themselves inside the wardrobe on the right side of the room.

"I sense a but coming," he remarked in a light, knowing tone.

His attention shifted to his books next, levitating them toward the desk on the left, ensuring each one stacked itself with precise care.

Narcissa sighed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. She folded her hands in her lap, her posture effortlessly poised, a Malfoy woman through and through.

"Bella has changed," she said at last with a carefully measured tone. "Twelve years in Azkaban have left… unpleasant effects."

Her gaze sharpened slightly as she studied him. "I would be careful if I were ever alone in a room with her."

Jakob's wand stilled mid-air.

Slowly, he lowered it, turning fully to face Narcissa, raising a curious eyebrow.

"That sounds like a warning, Lady Malfoy."

"It is," she confirmed without hesitation.

Jakob nodded slowly, letting her words settle, his mind already analyzing the weight behind them.

"I will, but I want to give her a chance to get to know me. To honor my mother's memory."

Narcissa's features softened as she rose and stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Of course," she said with an understanding smile, though there was a weight to her words. "Just… don't make her angry. Don't play her games. She reacts poorly when she's irritated or upset. Do you understand?"

Jakob gave another slow nod but couldn't shake the frown that crept onto his face as the older woman moved towards the door.

"You never told me what happens if I do play her games."

Narcissa paused mid-step, her back still turned to him. He didn't miss the slight tension in her shoulders at his question.

"When Bellatrix takes a liking to something… or someone," she said carefully, "she can become different."

Silence enveloped them. If Jakob hadn't already been preoccupied with his own thoughts, he might have found it slightly uncomfortable.

"This was before Azkaban," she continued after a pause. "I don't know if it has gotten better or worse. But don't take any chances."

Jakob turned his gaze toward the window, observing how the golden hues of the afternoon slowly deepened into the richer shades of evening. He let Narcissa's words settle, turning them over in his mind and weighing their meaning. But before he could shape a question, she spoke again.

"She loved your mother dearly," she said, turning her head just enough for him to catch the unease in her expression. "I have never seen my sister look at someone the way she looked at her... not until today. And it worries me," Narcissa finished before leaving his room. The soft click of the door shutting behind her felt far too loud in the silence she had left behind.

Jakob exhaled, dragging a hand through his dark hair. His mind turned over Narcissa's words, dissecting them piece by piece.

She looks at me the same way? A low and dry chuckle escaped him as he walked over to his bed and let himself fall back into it.

Why do I get the feeling she's very similar to a certain Amy?

As Jakob lay sprawled across his bed, he closed his eyes, letting the silence settle around him like a thick, heavy cover. He simply existed in it for a moment, breathing it in, letting it wrap around him.

Then, his fingers brushed against something.

Frowning, Jakob turned his head and opened his eyes.

A small black box sat beside him, the gift his father had written about, the one that had been waiting for him.

Jakob pushed himself up, picking up the box and letting his fingers run over the smooth surface before he flipped the lid and opened it.

Inside lay a ring. Not just any ring.

The Quade family crest ring.

It was Sleek, black as onyx, and its band was slim yet unmistakably regal. The familiar serpent entwined with the sword was carved into the centre stone, the dark surface catching the light, shimmering with an iridescent gleam as he turned it in his hand.

Jakob observed it, but it wasn't with sentiment. But with suspicion.

His father did not give gifts. Not without reason. Not without expectation.

His sharp eyes caught the edge of a folded note beneath the ring.

Sliding it free, the young Quade heir unfolded the note, his gaze scanning the sharp strokes of his father's handwriting.

To my son, Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Quade,

I was going to give this to you myself today, but seeing as plans have changed, you will receive this note instead.

You are to wear this ring at all times and make our house proud.

There are various enchantments on it:

1. Only you can remove it.

2. Invisibility: Hold your breath while turning the crest downwards, and you will become invisible. However, the effect only lasts as long as you hold your breath. Exhale, even slightly, and the ability will break. You will need to reset the ring before activating it again.

3. Limitations: This invisibility will not mask your sound or scent. Use it wisely. Additionally, it drains your magical reserves the longer it is used. Be aware of this before attempting to push its limits.

4. The Curse: This ring belongs to our bloodline alone. Should anyone outside of our family attempt to wear it, they will be struck with an insanity curse. It will fill their mind with visions so horrifying that they will take their own life before the madness consumes them.

Do not allow anyone to try it on unless you wish them dead.

Behave at Malfoy Manor and study hard this summer. I have reviewed your grades. While I expected full marks, you have at least earned another Outstanding. A reward will be prepared for you upon your return.

Hope you are well.

Lord Quade.

Jakob threw the note aside, disinterestedly watching it flutter onto the desk.

"Hope you are well?" he muttered, his lips curling into a sneer. "Yes, I'm fine, you worthless piece of shit."

His fingers twirled the Quade family ring with a thoughtful expression. Did he even want to wear this?

His father's gifts were never without a purpose. This was more than a symbol of status; it was a way to tell him that he was still the property of the House of Quade.

But the invisibility charm was too good to pass up.

With a sigh, Jakob slid the ring onto his finger.

The moment it settled, a sharp prick stabbed his skin. He hissed but didn't pull away, watching as the golden crest briefly turned red before returning to normal.

He turned the ring downwards and took a deep breath.

The effect was instant. His body disappeared before his eyes.

Jakob's lungs burned slightly as he held his breath, glancing down at his now-invisible hands. Testing it further, he strode toward the mirror.

Nothing. Not a single trace of his reflection.

"Okay, that is cool," he muttered.

The moment he spoke, his body reappeared, the magic breaking as the note had instructed.

A knock sounded at the door before it swung open, and Draco stepped inside. He leaned casually against the wall beside the entrance, crossing his arms.

"Are you done?" he asked, raising a brow.

Jakob smirked. "Yeah. You want to do the first thing we always do when we get here?"

Draco nodded, pushing off the wall. "You remember the way?"

Jakob gave him an unamused smile. "What do you think?"

Without waiting for a response, the blond turned and led the way.

---

They strolled through the vast backyard, the same one that had been filled with ice sculptures that winter night when Jakob had walked it with Amy. Now, the space had transformed into something entirely different—a maze of high hedges, their deep green stretching far and wide, carefully trimmed into imposing walls.

Scattered throughout were flower beds bursting with hues, each seeming to represent every imaginable colour. Vibrant reds, deep purples, golden yellows—all carefully cultivated, yet effortlessly elegant, blending into the landscape as though nature itself had designed them.

Jakob had always found peace here.

Something about the garden's precise, almost calculated beauty had a way of easing his mind. Maybe it was the order, the perfect symmetry of the paths, the way the towering hedges kept the outside world at bay.

It was one of the few things that made Draco proud beyond measure.

The Malfoy gardens were something he had grown up with, something he had never thought much about—but the fact that Jakob, of all people, could appreciate it this much? That made it feel like something worth showing off.

"So, now that we're alone, can you finally tell me what you want with Aunt Bella?" Draco asked, trying to act as though the question hadn't been gnawing at him since the moment it crossed his mind.

The sound of white gravel shifting beneath their shoes filled the silence as they continued along the path.

"I need to know more about my mother," Jakob answered casually, shrugging.

Draco frowned. "Why don't you ask your family? Why not ask my mother?"

Jakob sighed, reaching out his hand and letting his fingers brush against the neatly trimmed hedges as they walked.

"My family never speaks of her. And when I ask Narcissa, she only ever tells me how much I look like her or how she loved her like a sister." His voice dropped slightly. "It feels like someone told her what to say, like she is going of a script."

Draco nodded in understanding. He had also noticed it. No one had ever talked about the woman who had been so loved by everyone. Not really.

The two stepped out of the maze, entering a more open part of the garden where the small lake stretched before them. The water was calm, reflecting the sky in muted ripples. Trees and soft grass surrounded it, casting shadows that broke up the heat of the afternoon sun.

This place had always been his favourite part of the manor grounds. The only place that felt separate from everything else.

The boys moved to their usual spot beneath a large tree near the water, its wide branches giving them enough shade from the sun.

Jakob rolled up his sleeves, letting the faint breeze cool his skin.

"It must be hard, not even remembering your own mother," Draco said, his gaze fixed on the lake.

Jakob exhaled, watching the water shift with the breeze.

"It is," he admitted. "Sometimes, I envy you. Having Narcissa as your mother, never having to share her… That's something I can only dream of."

He picked up a smooth rock and tossed it into the lake, watching as the calm surface rippled outward.

Draco chuckled. "I envy a lot from you, but it feels a bit weird knowing you want my mother."

Jakob rolled his eyes before nudging him roughly. "Not like that, you idiot."

Draco laughed, shoving him back before they both fell into a comfortable silence.

Their eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings, the soft rustle of the trees, the distant chirp of birds. It was one of the few places where neither of them had to think too hard about anything.

After a moment, Jakob spoke again.

"Hey, Draco, can you finally tell me about that mystery girl who sent you a letter?"

Draco's expression shifted, uncertainty flickering in his pale eyes.

"I'm not totally ready to tell anyone yet," he admitted. "But soon. I promise."

Jakob studied him for a moment before nodding. "Have you talked to Pansy about it?"

Draco sighed, dragging a hand through his blonde hair.

"Not yet. I don't even know how to start. She will—"

"She will get destroyed either way, mate," Jakob interrupted. "But do it sooner rather than later. The only thing that can make it worse is time."

Draco let out another sigh before nodding. Then, with a small smirk, he dropped back onto the grass, resting his hands behind his head.

"Guess I'll just stay here for a while and pretend I don't have to deal with any of it."

Jakob chuckled, shaking his head before leaning back against the tree. "Merlin, I've missed this."

He reached down, plucked a single straw from the ground, brushed off the dirt, and placed it lazily between his teeth before lying back beside Draco.

"Missed what?"

Draco closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as if savouring the moment.

"Just you and me, the whole summer," he murmured. "Without complications or distractions."

Jakob turned his head toward his best friend, struggling to hide his laugh.

Draco, sensing the shift, cracked one eye open and frowned.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Complications or distractions?" Jakob let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Draco, we have Bellatrix bloody Lestrange in your house."

Draco's frown deepened briefly before he understood why his friend had found the statement so absurd.

Jakob started laughing again, and before Draco could stop himself, he began to laugh as well.

---

They all gathered at the long dining table when dinner was served, the atmosphere calm but carrying its usual undertones of formality.

The meal was an impressive spread of various meats and sides. Settling into his seat, Jakob took a portion of roasted duck breast, pairing it with potatoes and fresh salad.

Sitting elegantly beside Lucius, Narcissa waited as Dobby carefully served her a plate of the same. She glanced toward the boys with a warm yet observant expression.

"So, what have you boys been up to today?" she asked, cutting delicately into her food.

Jakob swallowed before answering. "We took a stroll through your beautiful garden, then spent some time by the lake as we always do the first summer day."

Narcissa smiled approvingly, but Lucius wasted no time shifting the conversation.

"I hope you two don't waste your entire summer doing nothing," he remarked with a pointed look towards his son. "How is the summer homework progressing?"

Draco immediately sat up a little straighter.

"I'm already finished with it, Father."

Lord Malfoy, who had clearly not expected that answer, gave his son a brief, appraising look before offering a slow, approving nod.

"Well done, Draco," Lucius said with a nod of approval before turning his sharp gaze toward Jakob. "How about you, Jakob?"

Jakob, who had essentially done Draco's homework for him, knew better than to mention that detail. Lucius was already displeased that Draco had yet again failed to make the top five in their year. The last thing his best friend needed was another lecture.

He calmly chewed his bite of meat before answering.

"I'm done with mine as well," he said smoothly. "But I've started a personal project I hope to finish before school starts again."

Before Lucius could react, Bellatrix let out a laugh. She stabbed a piece of meat onto her fork and playfully pointed it at Jakob.

"So like your mother, little bookworm," she purred, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. "Tell Auntie Bella what you're working on. Or wait—let me guess."

She absently twirled the piece of meat, her eyes rolling upward in mock concentration. Then, suddenly, her expression lit up, and she turned sharply toward Narcissa.

"I bet it's some new potion!"

Narcissa's eyes widened slightly, and then she let out a light laugh, raising her hand to her mouth as if recalling a memory.

Jakob watched the exchange carefully, storing away every little reaction.

"No, Bella," Narcissa corrected with a knowing smirk. "If it were anything, it would be Transfiguration."

Bellatrix cackled, throwing her head back in laughter.

The three males at the table, Lucius, Draco, and Jakob—exchanged looks of mild confusion. Narcissa Malfoy, the ever-composed lady of the house, laughed like a schoolgirl alongside the very woman she had just warned Jakob about?

That was unexpected.

Bellatrix turned toward Jakob, her sharp eyes glinting with mischief as she prodded the air with her fork.

"Go on, dear," she urged. "Tell us. Tell us now."

Jakob smiled back, perfectly calm. "I'm doing a study on necromancy."

The entire table fell silent.

Every fork, every knife, every movement stopped as if frozen in time.

Jakob felt every pair of eyes turn toward him. Even Draco, who had been mid-bite, had dropped his silverware with a soft clang against his plate.

Lucius and Narcissa, who would normally glare at such a disruption, didn't even react. They simply stared, their expressions unreadable, as if trying to decide whether they had actually heard him correctly.

Even Dobby, who had just stepped beside Jakob, a pitcher in hand to pour his drink, halted mid-motion. The elf's large eyes widened, his entire body rigid, as if he, too, understood the weight of what had just been said.

And then there was Bellatrix.

For once, she did not laugh. Did not grin or tease. Instead, she simply blinked, her fork hovering just above her plate.

Lucius was the first to recover, clearing his throat as he set down his silverware with measured precision.

"It is a very difficult subject, Jakob," he said carefully. His gaze sharpened at the Quade heir. ""And it is frowned upon—not only by the light but by the Grey and even some of the Dark families as well. Not many wizards have dared to study it."

Jakob inclined his head, acknowledging the weight behind Lucius' words.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Lord Malfoy," he replied respectfully. "I'm not looking to master it, but it might shed some light on my real goal."

Bellatrix frowned, her fingers tapping against her fork before her lips curled into a slow, wicked smirk.

"You will be a terrifying little Dark Lord when you grow up," she mused. "Not even in third year yet and already interested in forbidden magic."

She twirled her fork lazily before her smirk widened.

"Tell me, little Quade," she drawled, voice dripping with something dangerously playful, "are you getting used to all the blood?"

Jakob's smile never faltered, but he couldn't hide the slightly raised brow at her comment.

How the hell does she know?

Before he could say anything, Draco turned to his aunt, confusion written all over his face.

"What do you mean, all the blood?" he asked, looking at Bellatrix for the first time without seeing a dementor in human form.

Bellatrix merely gave Jakob a wink before shrugging, as if she held a secret that no one else at the table was privy to.

Jakob could feel Lucius' confused stare directed at her, but he smoothly redirected the conversation before anyone could press further.

"Lord Malfoy, if you have any information about necromancy or perhaps the soul, I would be very grateful if I could access your library. It is grander than our own, as I imagine my father must have told you countless times."

The calculated praise worked.

Lucius snapped out of whatever thoughts Bellatrix had put in his head, his posture straightening slightly as he cut into his meat.

"I'm not entirely sure about the soul," he said, though he cast a quick glance at Narcissa. Jakob did not miss how she met his look with something that felt like a silent warning.

"But the Malfoy library is at your disposal, Heir Quade. You have free access to it as always."

Jakob's eyes narrowed slightly at the phrasing. He had said, Heir Quade.

The message was clear.

Lucius knew Lord Quade wouldn't be pleased if he gave Jakob this kind of information.

So he wouldn't give him an outright permission, just an unspoken invitation.

Jakob hid his smirk behind a sip of water.

That would be more than enough.

---

They finished dinner without further disruption, and soon, everyone rose from the table, parting ways for the evening.

Draco made a half-hearted excuse about needing to write a letter, claiming he would join Jakob in the library later. Jakob knew better. It meant he'd retreat to his room, do anything but write a letter, and wait for Jakob to finish his 'boring' research.

Jakob didn't mind.

Walking through the dim corridors, he eventually stepped into the Malfoy library.

The moment he entered, the sheer grandeur of the room hit him all over again.

It was massive—larger than even the Hogwarts library. The circular structure extended upwards, lined with endless shelves of books that curled around the entire space. A spiral staircase wound through the centre, leading to multiple levels, each packed with tomes older than the very foundation of Hogwarts itself.

The air smelled of aged parchment, ink, and old magic. It was one of the few places that Jakob genuinely admired.

He took a moment, his gaze trailing across the towering rows of books.

Then, he called.

"Dobby?"

A soft pop echoed through the room, and in an instant, the small house-elf appeared.

Dobby's large green eyes blinked up at him, his face breaking into a nervous yet genuine smile.

"Young Heir Quade called for Dobby?"

Jakob nodded, taking a seat in a reading armchair and leaning back into it.

"Now that we have a little time for ourselves, get us some tea."

Dobby's large eyes lit up as he nodded eagerly before popping away.

Within seconds, he returned, balancing a porcelain tea set in his small hands. Carefully, the small creature poured a cup for Jakob before placing the tea and tray onto the small table beside the armchair.

With a flick of his wand, Jakob transfigured a nearby book into a stool, motioning for Dobby to sit.

"If anyone asks, tell them I forced you."

The house elf hesitated before perching on the edge of it, looking as if he wasn't quite sure if he deserved to be sitting at the same table.

Jakob sighed in relief, letting the warmth of the tea calm his mind.

"Dobby, pour a cup for yourself," he instructed, waving off any argument before it could start. "I want to hear how you've been since I last saw you."

Dobby hesitated, his large ears twitching, but he nodded. He carefully poured himself a cup, his small hands gripping the delicate porcelain.

He brought it to his nose, inhaling the scent before taking a tiny sip, letting himself enjoy the rare moment of kindness.

"Heir Quade is too kind to little Dobby," the elf murmured. His voice was softer now, not the usual frantic tone he used when speaking to the Malfoys. "Dobby has missed Heir Quade."

Jakob smiled faintly, sipping his own tea.

He felt a little sorry for the house-elf.

In many ways, Dobby was just like him, imprisoned inside a grand manor, bound by expectations neither of them had agreed to.

The house-elf eagerly launched into a recounting of his daily routine. However, it was brief—his days followed the same strict pattern dictated by orders.

But then, something shifted.

Dobby's face lit up, his large eyes widening with excitement.

"But once," he said, his voice brimming with wonder, "Dobby saw a thestral be born while he was cleaning the stalls!"

Jakob's interest piqued, his half-hearted interest giving way to genuine curiosity.

Dobby continued, his voice brimming with excitement. "Dobby was afraid at first! Thestrals are strange creatures, yes! But then—" his tiny hands flailed animatedly—"Dobby saw a new life! A little one taking its first steps! And Dobby jumped with happiness!"

Jakob chuckled, watching as the house-elf practically vibrated with joy, completely immersed in reliving the moment.

When Dobby finished his story, a comfortable silence settled between them as they sipped their tea. Jakob watched as the house-elf's small feet dangled off the stool, his large eyes wandering around the vast library.

"Speaking of new life," Jakob said casually as he watched Dobby's large green eyes snap back to him with eager curiosity.

"I recently got a female house-elf myself."

The reaction was instant. Dobby froze mid-sip, his fingers tightening around the delicate teacup. His ears twitched, his eyes widening as he stared at Jakob in shock.

"What is her name?" Dobby asked neutrally. But beneath the politeness, Jakob caught the unmistakable hint of jealousy.

Jakob took another slow sip of his tea, letting the moment linger before setting his cup down with a quiet clink.

"Her name is Feemey," he finally answered, watching Dobby's reaction with mild amusement.

Dobby's hands fidgeted with the cup, but he remained silent.

"She's young," Jakob continued. "A bit excitable, but she does her job well."

Dobby nodded stiffly, his usual enthusiasm noticeably absent.

Jakob chuckled. "Dobby, Are you jealous?"

The house-elf's eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly shook his head. "Oh, no, heir Quade! Dobby is only... only surprised! Yes, very surprised!"

Jakob leaned back in his armchair. "Relax. You'll always be the first elf I trusted, you know."

Dobby's grip on his teacup loosened at that, and a small, pleased smile crept onto his face.

"Try to get to know her," Jakob continued, giving Dobby a genuine smile. "I think she could learn a lot from you."

Dobby's lips curved into a small smile, the jealousy from before fading into something warmer.

"Yes, Heir Quade," he nodded. "Dobby would very much like to meet Feemey."

With the tea finished and their conversation winding down, Jakob tapped his fingers idly against the armrest of his chair. His gaze flicked toward Dobby, who remained attentive, waiting for further instruction.

Now came the second reason he had called the house-elf here.

"Dobby, I need a book on soul magic and necromancy," Jakob said casually but with a hint of urgency. "Can you find them and bring them here?"

Dobby's head bobbed up and down so enthusiastically that his large ears flapped.

"Yes, Heir Quade!" he chirped.

With a snap of his fingers, the porcelain tea set vanished instantly. Then, with another sharp snap, the house-elf disappeared, beginning his search.

Jakob adjusted his posture as he waited. He wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to find. Still, he knew that whatever answers existed, they were hidden somewhere in this vast library.

Within a minute, a book popped into existence on the table.

Jakob reached for it, running his fingers over the faded leather cover. The title was engraved in deep silver letters.

Necromancy by Done Dunster.

He flipped it open and scanned the first passage.

Necromancy is the only way to return a dead body to life. However, "life" is a misleading term. What is reanimated is merely the body, stripped of its former soul and will. The caster becomes the puppet master, controlling the strings of a hollow shell.

Jakob's brow furrowed as he read through the different spells and theories.

It was useful information, but not what he was looking for. He let out a soft sigh, closing the book and setting it aside.

Just as he did, another book appeared. He picked it up, reading the title aloud.

How to Control the Living Dead.

Jakob skimmed through the pages, only to let out another tired sigh.

"This is almost a copy of the first book," he muttered, unimpressed.

Dobby sent down another, and this time, Jakob's eyebrow rose.

This one was different.

The binding was older, and the title was barely visible. Yet, even before opening it, Jakob could feel the magic thrumming from its pages.

The Infinite Soul. By Livia Ortonburg.

He flipped past the self-indulgent biography, uninterested in the author's personal achievements, skimming until a detailed illustration caught his eye.

A man, frozen in time, with a glowing orb hovering just outside his chest.

Jakob's eyes flicked down to the text beneath it.

In my days researching the soul, I have come to several conclusions. One is that when you die, you cannot be brought back to life because the soul is on its way to another place we cannot follow.

Jakob scoffed, shaking his head. "Well, you're wrong about that."

If that were true, then Amy wouldn't be alive right now. Nonetheless, he continued reading.

This is why every attempt at true necromancy has failed. The body can be reanimated, but it is just a husk, an empty shell without will or purpose. The soul, once severed, does not return. It is not lost, but rather, it transitions.

I have long theorized that the soul does not immediately reach its final destination upon death. Instead, it lingers in a transitional plane, a realm between realms, what some might call Purgatory.

In this place, the soul is judged, weighed, and either guided forward or cast downward.

Jakob's fingers tightened around the pages.

If this text was anything to go by, then that would explain where Amy had been just before she was brought back to life.

It made sense. The inhuman voice had said something about Jakob having to hurry before she was out of its reach.

He turned the page.

Religions have given them different names, but the concept remains the same. There is a place of reward, and there is a place of punishment. Heaven and Hell.

I have spent years searching for evidence that these places exist through the magical and Muggle worlds. Yet, I find myself no closer to the truth.

Veritaserum has exposed lies, and Legilimency has revealed delusion. The accounts of those who claim to have glimpsed beyond death are inconsistent and unreliable.

And yet, I remain convinced. I know these places exist.

Jakob snorted. "Well, I have some proof of something existing."

He leaned back, his eyes drifting toward the towering rows of books above. His mind wandered to that night in the Chamber of Secrets.

To Ginny.

To the way, she had been dragged toward that tearing in the ground. Had that been Hell?

Purgatory is where souls are sorted, but not all souls move on as they should.

Some are trapped. Some refuse to move on.

And some… are stolen before they can reach their final rest.

These are the souls that haunt the living.

They are not ghosts by choice. They were never given the opportunity to move on.

Ghosts are not eternal. Over time, a soul fades, its memories slipping away, its presence weakening until it simply… dissolves like a flickering flame.

I have tried to place ghosts back into their bodies, but every attempt has failed.

Once a soul is severed from its flesh, it cannot reconnect to it.

Jakob rubbed his eyes, the strain from reading for hours finally catching up to him. It felt like he had been buried in those pages forever.

His gaze drifted toward one of the tall library windows. What had once been a golden evening sky was now replaced by complete darkness. The moon hung high, casting a faint glow across the vast shelves of books.

Flicking out his wand, he cast a quick Tempus.

11:57 PM.

With a quiet yawn, he closed the book and set it down on the table.

He had what he wanted.

The rest of the pages had been nothing but speculations, endless theories about what happened after death. Maybe some of it was true, but there was no way to know for sure.

For now, he had enough.

Turning his head, he saw Dobby still standing quietly nearby, waiting for instructions.

"Thanks for the help," Jakob said, offering a small nod.

Dobby beamed, his ears twitching slightly before he gave a low bow.

"Heir Quade is always welcome," the elf said before disappearing with a soft pop.

Jakob let out a slow sigh before finally leaving the library, his footsteps barely making a sound against the cold marble floors.

---

The manor was silent.

Most of the candles had burned lower, leaving the hallways draped in shadows. The portraits along the walls were still, either sleeping or pretending to. Only the faint flickering light of enchanted chandeliers guided him back to his room.

As Jakob stepped inside, the familiar silence of his quarters settled around him. The only light source came from the two large windows, where the moon cast long, silvery beams across the polished dark wood floor.

Jakob exhaled, already anticipating the comfort of his bed. But as he took his first step forward, he hesitated.

A frown appeared on his brow, a creeping unease climbing down his spine.

Bellatrix was under the same roof.

With that thought, he turned back toward the door, twisting the lock with a quiet click, a safety precaution.

Shaking his head at himself, he moved toward the bathroom, stripping off his robe as he went. The cool air met his skin as he washed up, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension he hadn't realized had settled there.

When he returned, something felt different.

Something was off.

Jakob's instincts instantly sharpened. His gaze swept over the space, taking in every familiar detail, searching for what had shifted.

Then, he saw it.

The armchair.

Before entering the bathroom, it had been sitting untouched in the corner, exactly where it had been since he arrived. But now...

Now, it was turned toward the window.

Before he could fully register the situation, a silky smooth, playful and dangerous voice cut through the silence.

"Hello, little lamb."

Jakob's body tensed for half a second, but his breathing remained even and controlled.

His gaze flicked, just briefly, toward the nightstand. His wand rested there, exactly where Dobby must have placed it after collecting his robes while he had been in the bathroom.

It was almost within reach.

But Jakob didn't move.

Not yet.

Instead, he turned his attention back toward the armchair with a carefully neutral expression.

"Mrs. Lestrange , I—"

"Bella," she corrected smoothly, cutting him off before he could finish. Her voice carried an almost teasing lilt, but there was something unsettling beneath it. "Mrs. makes me sound so... old."

Slowly, she rose from the chair, stepping into the moonlight.

Jakob's eyes took in the sight before him.

Her hair, which had been tied up neatly earlier, was now loose, the dark curls cascading down her back and framing her face. The tight, high-collared robes she had worn before were gone, replaced with something far less structured.

Her black nightgown was light, flowing, and almost weightless as she moved. The fabric shimmered faintly under the moonlight, clinging just enough to outline the sharpness of her collarbones and the length of her arms. A long slit along the side of the gown parted as she stepped forward, revealing just enough of her thigh to suggest that its placement was anything but accidental.

She smirked, dark eyes glinting with amusement as they leisurely roamed over him.

"My, my…" she purred in a mockingly sweet tone. "Someone's been keeping himself busy."

Bella's head tilted as her gaze slowly dragged over his torso, assessing his physic.

Jakob's throat suddenly felt very dry, his pulse quickening just a fraction as regret began to settle deep in his stomach.

Out of all the summer nights, he had chosen this one to sleep in only his underwear—just because Pansy wasn't there to nag him into wearing his pyjamas.

Brilliant.

Her gaze didn't just linger; it prowled. It was too focused, too intense to be a mere curiosity.

There was something else in her eyes.

Something that sent a quiet, insistent warning through his mind.

She studied him like an artist appraising an unfinished masterpiece, something nearly complete but still in need of refinement, a final touch to make it perfect. Yet beneath that careful scrutiny, there was something more.

Something hungry.

Jakob remained motionless, resisting the urge to shift under her gaze. His expression stayed composed, revealing nothing.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Bella finally asked, lifting her eyes to meet his. He doubted it was out of politeness.

Jakob barely had time to process Bella's firm grip on his hand before she guided him toward the bed with a clear purpose. There was no hesitation in her movements like she had already decided exactly how this situation was going to unfold.

Then, his knees met the mattress, and suddenly, he was seated at the edge of his bed.

With a flick of her wand, the armchair slid forward with a quiet scrape. Bellatrix lowered herself into it with effortless grace, adjusting the fabric of her nightgown in one smooth motion as though this were nothing more than a casual conversation between family.

When she finally looked up at him, her expression had changed.

The amusement had faded.

Her dark eyes met his with a formal clarity, the same measured gaze Narcissa had worn when teaching him and Draco about pureblood ethics just before he had asked a question.

For the first time since she had stepped into his space, Jakob no longer felt like prey beneath her scrutiny.

But that didn't make him trust it. If anything, it put him even more on edge.

Jakob cleared his throat before answering, keeping his tone measured.

"I have a lot of questions," he began, watching her carefully. "But there is one subject I want to start with."

Bellatrix tilted her head, her smirk widening as if she had already read his mind.

"Your mother?" she guessed, sounding almost delighted.

Jakob did not blink. "No," he said evenly. "I want information on Dementors."

Bellatrix laughed mockingly, but it faded as soon as she realized his expression had not changed.

Her amusement faltered.

Confusion crossed her features for a moment, only to be quickly replaced by anger.

"Why would you want to know about those… those wretched things?" she hissed in frustration.

Jakob remained calm. "I want to know how they are created, for starters."

Bellatrix let out a harsh scoff, but then her expression shifted into something more wicked, something more teasing.

"Is little baby Quade wanting to know if Dementors fuck?" she drawled, chuckling at her own words.

Jakob, who had not broken eye contact, remained completely unfazed.

"Yes."

The simple response made the older witch pause. She studied him for a moment before letting out a low, pleased hum.

"Aren't you a little young to ask such questions?" she mused, rising gracefully from her armchair. "Have you even kissed a girl yet?"

Jakob did not move as she lowered herself onto the bed beside him.

"I have," he answered smoothly. "And I'm no stranger to the subject."

He made an effort to sound neutral, but his gaze flickered downward before he could stop himself.

Sitting this close, he could see more of her. The way her dress had shifted, exposing the sharp angles of her collarbones, the subtle rise and fall of her chest.

A faint vein ran from the middle of her left breast, disappearing beneath the fabric, which clung just slightly to the shape beneath. Her shoulders were narrow but defined, the skin smooth apart from a few faint scars near the joint where her arm met her torso. Her ribs pressed subtly against the thin fabric, her waist cutting inward at a sharp angle before flaring out slightly at the hips.

The long, loose nightgown had bunched just enough to reveal the shape of her pale thighs beneath it. Her knees were sharp, the muscles in her calves just visible beneath the pale skin.

She wasn't soft, not the way some women were. She was all edges, compact in a way that suggested speed rather than power.

Then, he noticed something else. Her arms were slowly getting covered in goosebumps.

His eyes flicked back up. She had noticed.

Bellatrix giggled, almost like a schoolgirl.

"You're a little too young for me, little lamb," she purred. "But I do appreciate the attention."

Her dark eyes gleamed, her smirk widening as she leaned forward, her breath warm against his ear.

"As you can see."

A shiver ran down his spine.

Jakob quickly looked away, feeling the heat creep up his neck and the sudden, very real need for a pillow to cover what was slowly becoming an issue.

I really hate not having this teenage shit under control, he thought, annoyed at himself as Bellatrix couldn't help but softly giggle.

"You will be a handsome little Lord one day," she whispered, trailing her fingers lightly along his arm, clearly enjoying his reaction. But then, just as quickly as she had teased him, her expression shifted into something more serious.

"Dementors don't reproduce the way we do," she began, her voice taking on a more instructive tone. She tapped her wand against her chin as she continued. "For a baby wizard to exist, you need a man and a woman."

She paused briefly, her head slowly turning to narrow her eyes at him.

"You do know this, don't you? How babies are made," she asked suspiciously.

Jakob shot her an unimpressed look.

Bellatrix nodded, a faint hint of relief crossing her face before she continued.

"Dementors thrive in places full of darkness, pain, and suffering. When there is enough of it, the air becomes so thick with despair that a Dementor materializes."

Jakob listened intently, his mind processing every word.

"They vary in shape and size," Bellatrix went on, "but at their core, they are all the same. They don't grow up, they don't learn, and they don't age."

Jakob frowned. "So they're immortal?"

Bellatrix shrugged with a thoughtful sigh.

"Are you truly immortal if you live forever but lack a soul?" she wondered out loud. "There have been debates about this for centuries, but there is one thing they all agree on."

Jakob's focus sharpened.

"And what's that?"

Bellatrix's lips curled, a slow, knowing smile creeping across her face.

"When a Dementor sucks out your soul, they don't consume it right away," she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "We say they do because the truth is so much worse."

She slowly leaned in until, for a brief second, their noses brushed.

Jakob didn't move. He barely even breathed.

"When they give you their loving kiss," she murmured, "they take your soul and carry it inside them. They don't swallow it, don't destroy it instantly. They keep it, let it wander in the darkness, and slowly absorb the light."

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and she slightly parted her lips as if she were about to kiss him or suck the soul straight from his mouth. Then, just as quickly, her eyes snapped open, revealing the mischief dancing in them.

"And as they feed, they grow."

She leaned back, her smirk widening as she watched for his reaction. Jakob looked surprised, and that only encouraged her to continue.

"I once saw a Dementor three times the size of the others," she said, tilting her head. "Imagine how many souls it had taken."

Jakob absorbed the information, filing away every word.

"Do you know where I can meet one?" he asked, keeping his voice casual. "Without going to prison, I mean."

Bellatrix's amusement vanished.

She fully leaned back, her expression shifting into something cold.

"I thought I was crazy," she muttered. "And then I heard you speak."

Her gaze darkened.

"Jakob," she warned slowly, drawing out his name as if the weight of each syllable might make him understand. "If you ever encounter a Dementor, you run."

Her fingers curled against the bedframe.

"You don't study it. You don't try to be its friend. You run."

Jakob leaned back, his hands resting against the mattress as he watched Bellatrix's expression shift. The teasing glint in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by something more pensive as she studied him back.

"But the Dark Lord made a pact with them," he pressed. "How could he speak to them?"

Bellatrix let out a soft hum, her fingers trailing lightly along the fabric of her nightgown as she stood up from the bed. She moved toward the window, one hand lifting to rest against the cool glass, her gaze drifting outside as though she were seeing something beyond the present moment.

"Because he was great, Jakob," she murmured, her voice carrying an almost wistful reverence. "He could do things that you and I can only dream of."

Jakob shifted on the bed, watching her shoulders lift subtly with a quiet breath.

"Dementors only listen to one thing, food," she continued, pressing her fingertips against the windowpane. "The Ministry thought it had control over them, thought it could tame them with scraps."

She let out a low chuckle, shaking her head.

"But the Dark Lord knew better." She turned her head just enough to glance at him over her shoulder, the moonlight casting sharp shadows along her face.

"He didn't bargain with them like a fool, he offered them more." A small, dark smile touched her lips. "More than the Ministry ever could. And so, they chose him. They followed him as their true master."

Jakob slowly nodded as he absorbed the information. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he considered his next question.

"Bella," he said carefully, keeping his voice measured, "can I ask you something else?"

Bellatrix finally turned fully toward him, arching an eyebrow as she took a few slow steps back toward the bed.

"Last one before bedtime," she teased with a playful smirk, though something watchful remained in her expression.

"How did you escape?"

Bellatrix stopped mid-step, her smirk fading for just a second before something sharper took its place.

She let out a soft chuckle, running a hand along the edge of the mattress before lowering herself back beside him.

"Oh, my little prince," she purred, crossing her legs as she turned toward him. "I'll tell you my little secret… if you answer one of mine."

Her hand trailed lightly along the sheets, stopping just inches from his own.

"And don't lie, little lamb," she added, her voice carrying a sweet, dangerous edge. She leaned slightly closer, her dark curls spilling over her shoulder.

"Because I will know."

Jakob took a few seconds to think and weigh if the proposal was worth it before lifting his chin.

"Fine," he agreed, holding her gaze, forcing his expression to remain unreadable as Bellatrix watched him silently.

"I know you've undergone blood rituals," she murmured, nodding as if answering the question herself.

Jakob's eye twitched, but he made sure not to react.

"I can't tell how many or which ones," she continued, interested. "But you can't hide everything from little Bella."

She let the silence stretch between them before leaning in again, her voice dropping just enough to raise the hair on his arm as she questioned. "Tell me… have you killed someone yet?"

Jakob met her gaze head-on.

She wasn't testing his morality. She wasn't trying to measure his worth by it. She just wanted to know.

"I have," he answered simply, without breaking eye contact.

Bellatrix stilled for a heartbeat.

Then, she let out a delighted laugh, her lips curling into something almost giddy.

"You are one naughty little boy," she purred, tapping a single finger against his arm like she was praising a particularly promising student. "I'm sure the Dark Lord will gladly take you in when you're a little older."

Jakob felt irritation tighten his jaw.

He pushed himself up from the bed and walked toward the window, sighing as he looked out into the sprawling Malfoy estate.

"I didn't do it for fun, Bella," he said firmly. "I did it for survival."

A shift in the air told him she had stood up as well, and a second later, he felt the weight of her hands on his shoulders.

Bellatrix lightly rested her head against his left shoulder, her fingers tightening against his skin.

"I can teach you things," she murmured in a low tone, edged with something tempting. "Things best left hidden. If you'd like."

Jakob turned his head just enough to show the curiosity in his eyes as he glanced at her.

"Why would you do that? I'm not even your blood."

Bellatrix let out a thoughtful hum before shrugging against him.

"I loved your mother," she answered in a tone that suggested that it was all that was needed. "She was… different. Special to me."

A small, humourless chuckle slipped past her lips. "Not even Cissy could understand our bond."

Bella's fingers lingered against his arms for a moment before she pulled back.

"She left me, and now…" A slow smirk returned to her lips. "Now, I have you. My little lamb."

Jakob didn't answer, but deep down, he understood. Maybe, in some way, they could both reclaim a fragment of what they had lost with his mother's disappearance.

A stretch of silence settled between them, standing by the window, looking at the darkness beyond the glass.

Then, without warning, Bellatrix turned him to face her.

Before he could react, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

Her fingers wove through his hair slowly, methodically, almost soothingly.

Jakob hesitated, his muscles instinctively tensing, but eventually, he returned the gesture, resting his hands against her hips, forcing himself to focus on nothing but the moment.

She took a slow, deep breath, inhaling his scent before letting out a soft sigh.

Then, just as suddenly as she had pulled him in, she let him go.

She stepped back, her eyes flicking over his flushed face, and a smirk curled at the edges of her lips.

"Sweet dreams, little Jakob," she said softly before turning toward the door.

Her hand reached for the handle, but she paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder.

"And dream a little dream about me."

With that, she stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Jakob let out a long sigh as he sank into the bed, his body tense with frustration.

"I really need to get those urges under control."

It had been easier with Amy around.

His mind drifted back to that night in the Slytherin common room, the way her hands had gripped his robes, the heat between them, the way she had rubbed against him.

He sighed again, dragging a hand through his hair.

An idea took shape in his mind.

With a flick of his wand, he locked the door, the soft click echoing in the quiet room.

He sat up, fingers moving to his underwear before he thought about it, debating if he was really going through with it or not. After a few seconds, he finally shrugged.

"Might as well try."

His eyes flickered toward the nightstand.

"Where's that picture…?"

That night, Jakob came to understand two things.

One, he now knew what it felt like when a boy had fireworks inside him.

And two. His mind had never felt so clear.

---

The next morning, Jakob and Draco sat at the breakfast table, surrounded by the rest of the Malfoy family and Bellatrix. The dining hall was bathed in soft morning light, the scent of fresh tea and warm bread filling the air.

The ever-composed Narcissa glanced at her son with a small smile.

"And what are you boys planning to do today?" she asked lightly.

Draco shrugged, spearing a piece of fruit with his fork.

"I think we're just going to take it easy today," he said, pausing to eat the grape before adding, "Tonight, the Weird Sisters are playing in Hogsmeade, so we're going with Crabbe and Goyle." He finished looking towards Jakob, who gave him an affirmative nod in answer.

Narcissa gave an approving "hmm," sipping her tea.

"Don't stay out too late," she warned after with a firm tone. "Your father will know."

Both boys gave quick nods, understanding the silent consequence.

Jakob reached for his cup of tea, just about to take a sip, but then Bellatrix spoke.

"Oh, he's not going to take it easy today," she purred, lazily twirling her spoon in her tea before tapping it against the rim of her cup. "We have a lesson to begin that will start…"

She trailed off as if thinking, and then—her expression shifted.

A feral grin spread across her face.

"Now."

Before Jakob could even react, she grabbed his arm and hauled him up from his chair.

The movement was so sudden that even Lucius lowered his newspaper, his pale brows lifting slightly at the scene.

"Bella," he began warningly. "At least let him finish his—"

The door slammed shut behind them before he could finish the sentence.

They were already gone.

"Why is she so insistent on befriending Jake? He is my friend."

Draco scowled, his glare fixed on the door that had just slammed shut, taking his best friend with it.

Narcissa's gaze shifted toward Lucius, a trace of worry breaking through her otherwise composed expression.

Lucius offered her a reassuring smile, but his own thoughts were far from settled.

In truth, he was concerned.

Bellatrix had always been dangerous; that much had never been in question. But her fixation with Jakob was something else entirely.

She looked at him the way she had once watched his mother when they were younger. That same unsettling fascination.

If she pushed him too far or broke something that couldn't be mended, the consequences wouldn't just be personal.

It would reach beyond them, beyond the walls of Malfoy Manor.

Lucius took a slow, thoughtful sip of his coffee, and his frown deepened as he put down his cup.

He knew that Thomas Quade had always despised Bellatrix, and she had fully returned those feelings. It had been no secret.

So the fact that she had taken such a keen interest in his son had initially seemed like an innocent curiosity.

But now…?

Lucius's fingers tightened slightly around the porcelain cup.

No.

Jakob wasn't just another Quade to her.

A fracture between the Quades and Malfoys would be costly.

But beyond that—

Lucius wasn't certain if Bellatrix even saw Jakob as what he truly was.

A fifteen-year-old boy.

He needed to do something about this, not just for his childhood friend and their business. But to protect the boy.

---

Bellatrix's grip shifted, sliding from Jakob's arm to his hand as she led him through the dimly lit halls of Malfoy Manor.

They stopped, and she placed a hand on a heavy wooden frame, glancing at him with something close to amusement.

"This," she said, pushing the door open, "is our new training room."

She gestured for him to go down the stairs.

Jakob looked a bit surprised.

He and Draco had never been allowed down here. They had tried and pleaded, but the answer had always been no.

And yet, now, all of a sudden, he was allowed?

He shot her a brief glance, searching for any hint of deception or that she was pranking him, but Bellatrix only raised a brow as if daring him to refuse.

Still wearing his surprise, he descended the stairs with curious excitement, Bella following closely behind.

The air grew cooler the further he went, and when he reached the bottom, his eyes adjusted to the low torchlight, revealing a large, square-shaped room with Intricate symbols covering the walls.

Jakob looked around the chamber, feeling a bit disappointed that it wasn't more before he finally turned to her.

"What is this room?" he asked.

Bellatrix stepped down beside him, raising her hands, and widely gestured around the room.

"This, little lamb," she began in a loud, excited voice, "is the Malfoy training room."

She casually flicked her wand, and a set of training clothes appeared in front of him.

"Here," she continued, "we will have everything we need to get started."

Jakob reached down, picking up the clothes, before giving her a pointed look.

She did not indicate that she would turn around or acknowledge his silent expectation.

Jakob sighed, rolled his eyes and began changing.

Her eyes never left him, but the look was different this time.

There was no amusement, no teasing grin—just calculated assessment. The older witch was reading him. Measuring him.

When Jakob was almost finished, pulling the shirt over his head, he turned back toward her.

"I can see your muscles aren't just from rituals," she mused before narrowing her eyes. "Quidditch?" She guessed.

Jakob nodded. "I play Beater."

"Ah." She snapped her fingers as if something clicked into place.

"Then you need to work on your endurance."

She effortlessly conjured a chair in the centre of the room and took a seat.

"I want you to run," she instructed, crossing one leg over the other. "Around this room. Until your legs give way."

Jakob frowned but said nothing. Instead, he sighed and started running laps around the room. Bellatrix didn't watch him.

She waved her hand, and a book materialized out of thin air. Lifting it, the older woman flipped it open, adjusting her posture with effortless grace, poised, refined, the very image of a perfect pureblood witch.

Jakob couldn't tell whether she was reading or ignoring his presence.

Either way, he kept running.

"I'm impressed," Bellatrix murmured after 30 minutes, watching him with an expression that hovered somewhere between amusement and approval. Jakob was still forcing himself to continue, but she could see it now: the slight falter in his steps, the unevenness in his breathing, and the way his muscles betrayed him no matter how much his mind willed them forward. His limit was soon going to hit.

Jakob took another step, but his body refused to obey. His knees gave out beneath him, and he crashed, his palms slamming against the cold stone floor as he struggled to steady his breath. The room was invaded by tiny stars in his vision as exertion took hold, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. Still, he remained silent, unwilling to let anything more than his shaking limbs expose his exhaustion.

Bellatrix approached and let the silence stretch, giving him just enough time to feel the weight of his own weakness before finally speaking.

"I want you to be better tomorrow," she commanded firmly. "And the day after that. And the day after that. I don't care how much you push yourself today if you don't push further tomorrow."

Jakob closed his eyes before forcing a slow, controlled breath through his nose. So, the right move would have been not to go all out today. How the hell would he be able to push further tomorrow?

"When you fight in a war, when you stand across from someone who wants to kill you," Bellatrix continued, crouching beside him now, close enough that he could feel her breath against his cheek, "magic and strength is only half the battle. The other half is endurance."

Her hand lifted, tugging lightly at his hair as if testing how much fight he had left in him. She let out a soft, almost affectionate laugh when he didn't react.

"Do you know how many wizards have died, not because they were weak, but because they were too tired to dodge in time?" she asked in a conversational tone, as though she were telling him an old bedtime story. "Countless."

Jakob exhaled again, his breathing still uneven but quieter now.

"I won't be one of them."

Bellatrix hummed again, the corner of her lips twitching upward in satisfaction.

"Good," she praised, pulling back abruptly and standing to her full height once more. "Then get up."

Jakob's entire body screamed in protest, but before he could force himself up, Bellatrix decided for him.

Her fingers curled around his arm, dragging him to his feet with a sudden, sharp pull.

"Up, up, up, and there we go."

The force nearly made him stumble, but he found his footing before he could fall again. His legs trembled beneath him, his vision momentarily swimming, but he refused to let himself collapse.

"You can rest later," she said, releasing him without a second glance as though she already expected him to stay upright on his own. "Now we train for real."

Jakob straightened himself as best as he could, rolling his shoulders to shake off the exhaustion still clinging to him. The moment he did, Bellatrix moved away, stepping further into the centre of the room with an almost lazy grace as if she had all the time in the world.

She stopped about seven meters away, then turned, wand already lifted.

"You are going to attack me," she instructed, her voice carrying that same teasing amusement. However, her stance was anything but relaxed now. "I need to see where you are lacking."

Jakob stilled his breath and focused on centring himself. He forced his hands to steady, inhaled slowly, and lifted his wand, pointing it toward her.

"Any restrictions?" he asked with an even tone.

Bellatrix's eyelashes fluttered as if the question itself amused her. She tilted her head, watching him like a cat would when waiting for a mouse to scurry.

But she didn't answer. She simply stood there. Waiting.

"Sanguis Ebulliens!"

A jet of red light burst from his wand and soared toward Bellatrix, crackling with the force behind it.

She barely moved, just a slight tilt of her body, sidestepping it with an ease that made the attack look anything but dangerous. Yet, despite the lack of effort from the older witch, there was something satisfied in her expression, like she hadn't expected him to start with something so bold.

"Naughty little Jakob," she purred, her lips curling as she lifted her wand. "But if you want to land a curse on me, you'll have to be faster than that. More like this."

She barely flicked her wrist, and before Jakob could register it, a streak of blue light shot forward, cutting through the air in a zigzag motion towards him.

It was too fast.

The impact hit him square in the chest, and suddenly, the ground was gone beneath his feet.

A crash filled the room as he hit the stone floor, a rush of pain tearing through him as he heard the sound of his ribs snapping. He sucked in a breath to groan in pain, but it only made it worse.

Bellatrix strolled toward him, her heels clicking lightly against the floor.

She crouched beside him, watching as he clenched his jaw against the pain before flicking her wand again. A warm sensation spread through his ribs, and just like that, the pain began to fade. The unnatural angle of his chest settled back into place, the fractures mending themselves as quickly as they had broken.

Jakob took a deep breath, feeling his chest expand without resistance now that the bones were back in their usual spots.

He pressed a hand against the cool stone floor, steadying himself as he pushed up onto one elbow. His gaze snapped to Bellatrix, who stood nearby, clearly waiting for his reaction.

"What was that?" he questioned in an accused tone.

Bellatrix let out a soft chuckle, twirling her wand between her fingers as though they were merely discussing the weather.

"A little curse, but nothing life-threatening," she said lightly, almost dismissively. "Did you really think I was going to throw an itsy-bitsy Stunner at you?"

Jakob exhaled through his nose, pushing past the lingering discomfort as he forced himself to his feet.

He hated to admit it, but the psychopath had a point. The best training wasn't pretending; it was experiencing. Nothing could prepare him better than being in the situation itself.

"Now I know," he said, brushing dust from his hands, "that I don't want to get hit again."

Bellatrix's eyes lit up at his response.

She clapped her hands together, almost giddy, before turning her back towards him and returning to her side of the room.

"Good. Then let's see if you've learned your lesson."

The entire morning was spent drilling techniques, breaking down the art of duelling into precision, movement, and intent.

Bellatrix was relentless.

She corrected his stance with sharp critiques, forced him to adjust his weight until it became second nature, and drilled the importance of instinct over hesitation with impatient commands that cut through the air like whiplashes. Every misstep was met with immediate correction, every hesitation punished with a flick of her wand that sent him staggering in pain.

For the first time in a very long time, Jakob felt like he was underachieving. Like he was lacking. Like he wasn't as strong as he had thought.

And yet, it ignited something inside him.

It was a hunger, a sudden, overwhelming need to improve, to sharpen himself into something better, something stronger. It reminded him of what it felt like to eat after starvation, to crave more the second he had something worth consuming.

"You need to know spell chains," she instructed, pacing slowly beside him as he readied his wand. "You start with the Shield Breaker, follow immediately with Blood Boil, and finish with a Bone Vanishing Curse. It's about flow, not just power."

Jakob nodded, rolling his wrist before flicking his wand in the precise movements she had shown him. He called out the incantations and watched as each spell struck the practice dummy in succession.

The first spell hit.

The second landed.

As the third curse was released, the dummy gave a violent shudder before its structure began to collapse.

Bellatrix watched and crossed her arms, her head tilting slightly in evaluation.

"Good for a first attempt," she acknowledged, though there was no real praise in her tone. "But you're too slow. I could almost count to three before you released your second curse."

Jakob frowned, his expression shifting into something between disbelief and irritation as he gave her a slightly incredulous look.

"It takes time to do the right motions and incantations,"

Bellatrix sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes before nudging him aside.

"Then watch me," she instructed, stepping into position.

Before Jakob could fully process what was happening, she raised her wand. The first charm struck the dummy. By the time its force hit, the second spell was already mid-air, and as the third spell was cast, the first hadn't even fully settled.

Jakob's eyes widened.

It had been so fast and fluent, almost like the spells had been cast simultaneously.

Bellatrix turned, her dark gaze fixated on him with something almost reminiscent of a teacher waiting for a student to figure it out.

"Well?" she prompted, tapping her wand lightly against her palm.

"You didn't use any wand motions," Jakob said, still slightly stunned. "And I could barely hear you say anything."

Bellatrix's lips curled into a pleased smirk.

"I did use wand movements," Bellatrix corrected, walking around him slowly and purposely before stopping at his other side. "I just made them smaller. Less movement means faster casting, and it makes it harder for your opponent to see what's coming."

Jakob nodded, amazed that she had learned him more things in a few hours than Hogwarts had in half a year.

"And the incantations?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.

Bellatrix gave him an approving look. "I whispered them," she confirmed. "Not only does it save time, but it also keeps your enemy guessing. They won't know what spell is about to hit them until it's too late."

She took a step closer, her voice lowering. "The thing about wand movement and incantations is that they're just guides, shortcuts to help your magic understand the order. But once you've trained yourself enough, once the magic is truly at your disposal, you won't need them at all."

Jakob listened carefully, the idea already forming in his mind. He had read about silent casting and had even practised it in short bursts, but removing wand movement entirely was something else.

He nodded, finding it both exciting and hard to accept her words before another thought crossed his mind.

"If I push too much," he thought out loud with a slight frown, "how does that affect the sickness?"

Bellatrix let out a short laugh, shaking her head.

"Is the sickness really that unbearable?" she teased with that usual glint of amusement in her eyes.

When he didn't respond, she shrugged, waving a hand dismissively.

"If it bothers you that much, just take short breaks."

Jakob frowned. "And how exactly am I supposed to know when I need one? I don't think I've ever felt this so-called sickness, and I've cast plenty of curses."

Bellatrix let out a slow sigh, tilting her head as she considered him.

"You're resilient, little lamb. I doubt it'll hit you as fast as it does others. Just keep an eye on yourself, and if you notice your temper snapping quicker than usual, step back for a bit."

They continued training until lunch, Bellatrix drilling him on spell sequences, endurance, and precision until his body was about to fully give up. When they finally stopped, she made one thing clear.

"This training isn't just for today," she said, watching him closely. "You will practice every day, at school, during breaks, whenever you can. And I will be checking in to make sure you're not falling behind."

Jakob nodded, too drained to question how she would even know what he did or didn't do while at school.

---

By the time he dragged himself upstairs, his limbs felt as heavy as lead. The moment he reached his room, the exhaustion weighing on him took precedence over everything else. He headed straight for the shower, letting the scalding water wash away the sweat and fatigue clinging to his body.

When he emerged, refreshed but still carrying a kind of exhaustion he wasn't sure he had ever felt before, he dressed in something lighter—a tank top and his acromantula silk shorts that fell just below his calves.

Jakob pulled open the door and nearly walked straight into Draco, who stood just outside, his expression twisted in irritation.

"Is she finally done playing with you?" Draco asked impatiently.

Jakob let out a long sigh, running a hand through his damp hair.

"She's going to do this every day while we're here," he muttered.

Draco's reaction was immediate. He threw his arms up in exasperation. "Why?!"

Jakob shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted, "but I'm not going against her decision. If you want to, be my guest."

Draco rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath before stepping closer and slinging an arm around Jakob's shoulders. "Not worth it," he huffed as they headed downstairs for lunch.

The afternoon was a welcome change of pace.

The two Slytherin boys spent their time outside, soaking in the warmth of the summer sun as they soared through the air on their brooms. They weren't playing full Quidditch, just chasing the Snitch in a casual game of skill.

Jakob put up a good fight, but Draco still managed to snatch the Snitch first, grinning triumphantly as they descended towards the ground.

"You live and breathe this sport," Jakob mocked, shaking his head though his tone had no real bitterness.

"Of course," Draco stated, "but let's be honest—you were never going to win."

Jakob shoved him off his broom in response, laughing as Draco barely managed to right himself before hitting the ground.

By evening, the two had returned to their rooms and switched into their proper attire.

Draco stood near the fireplace, turning their concert tickets over in his hands, his excitement finally starting to show through.

Jakob adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, giving his friend a sideways glance. "You look like you're about to propose to those tickets," he remarked dryly.

Draco shot him an unamused glare but didn't deny the accusation.

After a quick goodbye to Lucius and Narcissa, they stepped into the Floo Network and disappeared in a whirl of green flames.

They were met with a wall of noise when they arrived in Hogsmeade.

The entire village was packed, witches and wizards of all ages swarming the streets, laughter and excitement buzzing in the air. Stalls had been set up selling band merchandise, enchanted drinks, and floating lanterns that pulsed with music.

Jakob took a quick glance around, adjusting his robes as he stepped aside to let another group floo in.

Draco brushed off his shoulders, his grin stretching across his face in a way that could only be described as childlike excitement.

"Now this is how you start a summer," he declared, his eyes already scanning the crowd, searching for the entrance to the Weird Sisters concert.

Jakob, however, was momentarily distracted.

His gaze shifted toward the massive stage looming just beyond the village, towering over the sea of people. Even from here, he could see the glow of enchanted lights, the flickering of floating banners, and the steady pulse of deep, rhythmic magic humming in the air.

For a brief second, the two boys glanced at each other, and that was all it took.

Without another word, they quickened their pace, weaving through the packed streets as they made their way toward the stage.

"This is going to be awesome," Draco said excitedly, his gaze fixed on the massive stage ahead.

Jakob gave a small nod, though his attention was already on the crowd forming inside.

They approached the entrance, where a broad-shouldered wizard stood, inspecting tickets. They handed theirs over. The man took them, gave a quick glance, and nodded. With a flick of his wand, the wards surrounding a small passage inside shimmered briefly before parting, allowing them inside.

The moment the two heirs stepped in, they were surrounded by the chatter of hundreds of excited voices.

They found a spot near the centre, close enough to see everything but far enough to avoid getting trampled when the crowd inevitably turned rowdy.

Jakob glanced over, noticing Draco fidgeting with something inside his robes.

His brow furrowed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, watching Draco quickly look around, ensuring no one was watching, before pulling out a hip flask.

It was not just any hip flask but a polished silver engraved with the Malfoy crest.

"You little weasel," Jakob laughed as he shoved Draco's shoulder, earning a smirk in return.

Draco unscrewed the cap and took a swig, his entire face contorting as he swallowed. He handed it over without a word, his gaze fixed on the ground as the liquid settled in his body.

Jakob took it, lifting it to his lips, but the moment the liquid hit his tongue, he knew this wasn't Fire whisky.

His throat burned like a dragon's breath, and a heavy warmth spread through his chest so fast he had to close his eyes for a second to steady himself.

"Holy shit, Draco," he coughed, blinking as the world slightly tilted. "What the hell is in this?"

The blond shrugged, looking far too unbothered.

"I don't know," he admitted, taking the flask back and swallowing another mouthful. His voice came out rougher this time, and he made the same grimace. "Something Father had in his cabinet."

Jakob gave him an unimpressed stare.

"Fantastic. So you just stole some mystery liquor that might kill us both?"

Draco smirked. "Relax. If it was dangerous, Father wouldn't have left it unattended."

Jakob snorted, shaking his head, but still took the flask when Draco offered it again.

He tipped it back, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat. It hit just as hard the second time, spreading warmth through his chest so fast it left him momentarily lightheaded.

Suddenly, a voice shouted through the noise over the hum of the crowd and the distant tuning of instruments.

"Draco! Draco!"

The blonde barely had time to register it before instinct took over. Without thinking, he yanked the flask from Jakob's hand mid-sip, causing him to choke as the liquid spilt down his chin.

Draco ungracefully shoved the flask into his inner pocket as if he had just been caught red-handed.

Both boys turned toward the sound, spotting the Nott siblings weaving through the crowd toward them.

They exchanged a brief glance before stepping forward to meet them.

Draco reached Theo first, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture. Theo stiffened, his expression shifting to wary confusion as he glanced at Jakob for an explanation.

Standing just behind them, Jakob lifted a single hand in response, a subtle signal that Draco had been drinking.

Theo smirked as he listened to whatever the blond was whispering in his ear before nodding.

Feeling like the two wanted a moment to themselves, Jakob turned toward Clara, expecting at least a neutral greeting.

Instead, she looked away.

His brow furrowed.

"Hey there," he greeted, slightly more relaxed than usual, the alcohol already starting to take a mild effect. "How are you doing?"

Clara shifted uncomfortably but didn't meet his eyes.

"I'm fine," she answered dismissively, not hiding her wish to end the conversation.

Jakob rolled his eyes, already half prepared at the girl's reaction. He tilted his head, searching her face, waiting for her to look at him properly.

After a few moments, her gaze finally met his.

"What's wrong? Have I done something?" he asked, keeping his tone as steady as a tipsy teenager could.

Clara shook her head quickly, her blonde hair shifting slightly with the movement.

"It's not you," she muttered, looking around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just… I shouldn't be talking to you."

Jakob immediately understood what had happened the moment the words left her mouth.

Without hesitation, he grabbed her hand firmly but not forcefully and spoke before she could pull away.

"If someone, anyone is telling you that you shouldn't talk to me," he began in a steady but comforting voice. "You ignore it. If it gets you into trouble, you come to me and I'll take care of it. Alright?"

Clara hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly in his grasp, but she didn't pull away.

Jakob leaned in, lowering his voice just enough for only her to hear.

"I've already handled it for two others," he added.

That caught her attention.

Her brows lifted, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased for the first time since their conversation had begun.

She nodded, slowly at first, then with a bit more confidence, as if the weight pressing on her chest had lightened, if only slightly.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, the lights cut out.

A hushed silence fell over them as the stage lights flashed on, casting dramatic beams of colour across the venue.

Then, the crowd erupted in cheers and wild applause as the Weird Sisters took their positions.

"Hello, Hogsmeade! Are you ready?!"

The crowd's roar was deafening, a wave of excitement crashing over the venue as the Weird Sisters took the stage. The moment the first chord rang out, the energy shifted, turning the packed crowd into a swarming, pulsing sea of chaos.

The stage lights flashed in erratic bursts, alternating between blinding white and deep red, casting fleeting glimpses of the band before plunging everything into darkness again. The music was thunderous, the heavy beat shaking the very ground beneath them.

Bodies collided and pressed together, everyone moving in sync with the rhythm, jumping, pushing, and throwing their arms into the air as if the music itself had taken control.

Jakob barely noticed how far he had been pulled away from Draco, Theo, and Clara.

One moment, they had been beside him, laughing and caught in the moment, and the next, they had vanished into the maelstrom of the crowd.

Had he been more aware, he might have searched for them, might have fought against the tide of people pressing him forward, but right now?

He didn't care.

The music was too loud, its pulse vibrating through his chest, his bones, his very breath. The alcohol in his system dulled everything else, leaving only the thrill of it all, the chaos, the rhythm, the feeling of being weightless.

Somewhere in the blur of figures, he found himself with someone else.

Or maybe she had found him.

Her features were lost in the shifting lights, but her hands were warm when they found his.

They moved together, spinning, laughing, dancing to the music like it was the only thing that mattered.

He couldn't see clearly.

He could barely hear anything beyond the booming bass and the wild cheering around him.

But none of that mattered.

Jakob let himself get swept away, moving his body without thought or restraint.

The girl stumbled as she was shoved into him, her breath hot against his skin. The crush of bodies around them left no space between them, pressing them tightly together. Before he could even register what was happening, her lips crashed against his.

The music still pounded through the air, but all Jakob could focus on was the kiss—the way she moved against him, the way she deepened it.

His mouth parted, and he felt her tongue flick against his teasingly.

Jakob's hands dropped to her waist, and soon they found themself gripping her ass, and he pulled her closer.

She didn't resist.

Instead, she let out a soft whimper against his lips before jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist without a second thought.

Jakob's arms tightened, one hand supporting her weight while the other buried itself in her hair, deepening the kiss with an almost animalistic intensity.

There was no shyness in her movements. No hesitation. Just heat, music and desperation.

Jakob felt her fingers tangle in his hair while the other slipped beneath his tank top, her nails raking down his back.

A sharp breath escaped him at the sensation, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. The weight of her against him, the relentless push and pull of the crowd, made it impossible to stabilize himself.

Jakob broke the kiss, exhaling as he lowered her back to the ground. His mind was still spinning, caught between the moment and the alcohol dulling the edges of his thoughts. He stumbled back a step, laughter bubbling up as he felt her hand reach out to steady him.

Then, the lights flashed brighter, the song ended abruptly, and the concert's energy shifted.

Jakob barely had time to register her face before his stomach twisted in shock.

Red hair. Freckles.

Ivy.

She was staring up at him, something wild and unrelenting in her gaze.

And then, before he could react, she lunged at him again, crushing her lips to his in another fevered kiss.

Jakob froze for half a second before his mind finally caught up.

Ah, shit. Not again.

A familiar voice pierced through the haze.

"Ivy, what in the bloody hell are you doing?!"

Jakob barely had time to turn his head before the voice spoke again, this time carrying a heavy note of hesitation.

"Jakob?"