Hey guys, Blackmagic_cat here with some announcements! So I had a question on one of the other sites I post on in regard to the memories scenes that Draco has been experiencing and who Luca was. So this was my answer:
The first few memories like Narcissa singing to baby Draco, Draco bully Theo and the house elf being tortured by Draco were memories Draco remembers experiencing and they are high emotional events and defined his life and who he is. It also defined his relationship with his parents which is important to the story since he did all this to save his parents. I wanted to you guys to have some idea what his relationship was really like with his parents not just Draco's unreliable narrative. The boy talked about in the first few visions is the same boy as Luca. The visions with Luca/the nameless boy have been visions of the past that Draco's been having he just doesn't want to acknowledge that they are visions in the past and not conjured visions of his imagination since he is in a romantic relationship with a muggle born wizard in them. He's also freaked out because he doesn't remember experiencing them like the other visions in previous chapters. I place them at the beginning of each chapter to try to provide some clarity and apologize that it's still confusing. The same way Harry's getting dreams that are sort of memories from his real life but I haven't got to that plot point yet or I'd explain it in more depth.
In summary muggleborn boy = Luca
I also added dates for all of the memory scenes in response to the question because I don't want anyone to be confused. If anyone has a better solution please let me know I LOVE comments.
I also added a scene in chapter three or Ship in a Bottle where Draco is following Dumbledore to discover his weaknesses and picks up a strange ring that Dumbledore drops. In chapter four or Little Dark Age, I changed the ritual that traps Draco and Harry in the book to involve using the ring as a sacrifice and an anchor making the spell more powerful. I also added details that involved the ritual being when Serpens and Leo Minor were at their brightest. Sorry about the late additions. They are more or less summarized here so you don't have to go back and read them if you don't want to.
Harry clutches the book to his chest as he exits the store, a chill running down his spine that has nothing to do with the rapidly darkening sky. The streetlights flicker to life, casting long shadows that seem to reach for him. He quickens his pace, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he hears footsteps behind him, slightly out of sync with his own.
His heart begins to race as he notices not one, but two men trailing him, their reflections visible in a shop window. Sweat beads on his palms as he fumbles for the map in his backpack. He spots an alley—a shortcut—and darts into it, hoping to lose his pursuers.
The alley closes in around him, damp walls glistening in the dim light. The stench of rotting garbage assaults his nostrils as he navigates around overflowing bins. His foot catches on a discarded bottle, and he stumbles, barely catching himself. The sound of it rolling away seems deafening in the enclosed space.
For a moment, silence. Harry's breath comes in short gasps as he strains to listen. Then, a low murmur of voices at the alley's entrance. They're still following.
Panic rises in his throat as he pushes forward, feet splashing through murky puddles. He wishes desperately that he hadn't lied about Draco's plans to his friends, knowing that the blonde would never have let him out of his sight.
Draco, with his ability to make Harry feel safe despite his cool exterior. Draco, whose eyes soften when Harry smiles, who tends to his wounds and truly listens. Draco, who sees past his fame to the person underneath.
A cat yowls, knocking over a trash can. Harry jumps, a startled cry escaping his lips. The voices behind him grow louder, closer. He needs to get out of this alley, to find his friends, to see Draco again.
With renewed determination, Harry pushes himself to move faster. He'll make it out of this. Maybe even work up the courage to ask Draco if he's dating Astoria and if not-
Before he can finish his thought, a rough voice calls out behind him, followed by another. Harry's blood runs cold as he realizes he's trapped.
August 17, 1995
The days leading up to the dinner are filled with a mix of anticipation and dread for Draco. He meticulously plans his excuse to his parents, rehearsing it in the mirror until it sounds believable even to his own ears. As he makes his way through the unfamiliar streets, his heart races with each step. The buildings grow smaller, the streets narrower, and he feels increasingly out of place in his expensive robes, charmed to look like muggle clothing.
Draco himself standing outside a modest apartment building, his heart pounding. He double-checks the address Luca gave him, then takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.
Luca answers, his smile warm but nervous. "You came."
"I said I would," Draco replies in a terse voice, stepping inside.
Luca smile drops, and Draco curses his defensiveness.
"Your house looks very cosy," Draco says breaking up the silence that follows.
The tension in Luca's shoulders eases and his smile reappears.
"Do you want a tour?" he asks shyly.
"Of course," Draco says slipping his hand in Luca's.
The apartment is small, cluttered with mismatched furniture and personal touches. Pictures of Luca and Addie at varying ages line the mantel places and smile back at him. He chuckles at one of Luca covered in cake batter from one of his earlier experiments that went wrong. Luca's room is about the size of his closet and a small twin bed is crammed in a corner and a cheap looking desk in the other. Posters of famous bakers hang on the walls and even a few unmoving muggles ones join the mix. They creep Draco out with their vacant eyes and frozen facial expressions.
"It's very you," Draco smirks examining the Knick knacks on his arranged neatly on his desk, making noticing the missing Helga figure in his set of Wizarding Whisk Wonders collectable figurines and makes a note to owl it to him for his birthday.
Luca leans against him noticing the object of his attention.
"She's impossible to find," Luca grumbles eyeing the missing spot next to Wilhelmina Whiskbatter with frustration, "Everyone wants her because they made that limited addition Helga Hufflepuff figurine of her, not because of her-"
"Enchanted Treacle Tarts that sings the person's favorite song when it is cut, a magical feat that no one else has been able to reproduce, not even Barnabas Butterbatch who is still trying to this day," Draco finishes with a preening look.
"So you do listen when I talk," Luca says with a heart stopping smile, eyeing Draco's lips in temptation.
Draco leans forward to oblige him when a the voice of a little girl yells,
"Luca, mom says you aren't allowed to horde Draco in your room,"
Draco stiffens in embarrassment, but Luca just laughs, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the sitting room. The aroma of home cooking fills the air, so different from the formal meals prepared by house-elves that Draco is used to.
A young girl bounds into the room, her eyes wide with excitement as she all but bounces up and down.
"Is this him? Is this Draco?"
Luca laughs. "Yes, Aggie. This is Draco. Draco, meet my little sister."
Draco awkwardly extends his hand, but Aggie ignores it, wrapping him in a tight hug instead.
"Luca talks about you all the time!"
Draco stiffened, unused to such casual physical affection from anyone, but his mother and even that is rare.
"Oh, um, it's nice to meet you too."
When he gets his bearings, he notices with a amusement that Luca has turned a bright shade of red. He leans over smirking and whispers in his ear,
"All the time,"
"Shush, like your ego needs any inflating," Luca jokes shoving him back.
Luca's parents emerge from the kitchen, both wearing warm smiles. As Draco observes Luca's parents, he's struck by how different they are from his own. Luca's father, despite his weathered appearance, exudes a warmth that Draco finds both foreign and intriguing. His face is lined with the marks of long hours and hard work, likely from his numerous shifts at the Muse. His hair, a tousled gray mop reminiscent of Luca's own unruly curls, speaks of a man too busy living to be overly concerned with appearances. Yet, his eyes catch Draco off guard. They sparkle with a youthful light, full of life and mirth that seems at odds with his tired frame. It's a stark contrast to Lucius Malfoy's cold, calculating gaze.
Luca's mother, Elena, is a whirlwind of color and energy that Draco can scarcely comprehend. Her clothes are a vibrant patchwork of hues that would make his own mother recoil in horror, yet somehow Elena makes it work. She moves with a free-spirited grace, her laughter bubbling forth easily and often. What captivates Draco most is her natural beauty - she wears no makeup, no expensive jewels, yet she glows with an inner radiance that outshines any of the meticulously groomed pureblood ladies he's accustomed to seeing.
The juxtaposition is jarring. Where his own parents are like exquisite ice sculptures - beautiful, pristine, yet cold and unyielding - Luca's parents are like a warm hearth on a winter's night. They may lack the polished exterior of the Malfoys, but they possess a vitality, a genuine aliveness that makes Draco's own family seem ancient and ossified in comparison.
As he watches them interact, the easy affection, the casual touches, the unguarded smiles, Draco feels a peculiar ache in his chest. He's witnessing something he's never truly experienced. It's both alluring and terrifying, and Draco finds himself both drawn to it and unsure of his place within it.
"Welcome, Draco. I hope you're hungry," the mother says.
Luca glances expectantly at his father, but the man shakes his head. Luca sighs in frustration, but walks into the dining room.
As they settle around the small dining table, Draco feels distinctly out of place. The chairs don't match, the plates are chipped, and everyone serves themselves from mismatched dishes in the center of the table. The aroma of hearty stew fills the air, mixed with the scent of freshly baked bread. The clinking of utensils against plates and the casual chatter create a symphony so different from the formal, often silent dinners he's used to at the Manor.
"So, Draco," Luca's mother begins, passing him a bowl of stew, "Luca tells us you attend Hogwarts. How does it compare to Beauxbatons?"
Draco accepts the bowl, careful not to let his surprise at the simple fare show, "It's... different. Older, I suppose. With a rich history."
As Draco speaks about Hogwarts, he notices a flicker of something in Luca's eyes. Pride, certainly, but also a hint of... concern? Unease? Luca's smile tightens almost imperceptibly when Draco mentions the school's "rich history."
"It must be quite different from Beauxbatons," Luca says, his tone careful. "I imagine there are a lot of... longstanding traditions at Hogwarts?"
Draco catches the underlying question. He chooses his words carefully, aware of the potential minefield.
"There are, yes. Some more worthwhile than others, I'm finding."
Luca's eyebrows raise slightly at this, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Oh? And what's brought about this revelation?"
Draco feels heat rise to his cheeks, aware of Luca's family watching their exchange.
"New perspectives, I suppose," he says quietly.
Luca's smile widens, genuine warmth replacing the earlier caution in his eyes. He reaches under the table to squeeze Draco's hand briefly.
"I bet it's huge!" Aggie chimes in, "With secret passages and everything!"
Draco can't help but wear a small smile at her enthusiasm, "It is quite large, yes. There are indeed many secrets to discover."
As the meal progresses, Draco finds himself relaxing slightly. The conversation flows easily enough considering the family isn't trained in dinner conversation etiquette, punctuated by laughter and gentle teasing. He watches as Luca's mother insists on giving him seconds, how his father's eyes crinkled with pride when his wife discusses Luca's baking skills, how Aggie hangs on every word of their Beauxbatons stories.
"Are you excited about attending Beauxbatons too, Aggie?" Draco asks, genuinely curious.
Aggie's smile falters slightly, glancing at Luca for confirmation.
"Ah…yes,"
Draco guilt shoots through him as he remembers Luca telling him how hard he worked to save up for the fees and how he lied to his parents about taking extra shifts saying he was with Draco. His expensive robes suddenly feel like acid against his skin knowing they are easily worth a year of tuition. He glances at Luca, who gives him a small, sad smile.
"I'm sure you'll love it there," Draco says awkwardly.
As the dinner continues in silence Draco feels his mother's voice in the back of his head, prompting him to make up for his faux pas.
"The food is delicious, Mrs..." Draco pauses stumbling again as he realizes he doesn't know Luca's last name.
His face flames, oversight making him acutely aware of how much he still has to learn.
Luca's mother smiles warmly.
"Please, call me Elena. And I can't take the credit it's my husband who runs the kitchen."
Draco fights not to raise his eyebrows in surprise. While Pureblood families tended towards equality in their marriages, he figured muggleborns would be like muggles, the husbands lording their power over their wives.
"Luca must have gotten his talent from you then, sir," Draco says in a polite voice.
Draco notices Luca making the same eyes movements at his father as before, but his father doesn't seem to notice, instead he just beams at Draco's compliment and continues eating. Luca beside him looks disappointed.
Draco takes another bite, savoring the rich flavors. It's different, but there's a comforting quality to it that he finds surprisingly appealing.
"It's wonderful," he says sincerely, earning a pleased look from Luca.
As the conversation continues, Draco finds himself watching Luca more closely, noting the way he interacts with his family, the ease and affection in every gesture. It's so different from his own family dynamics, and he feels a mix of envy and fascination.
As the evening winds down, Draco helps clear the table, a task he's never done before. In the tiny kitchen, Luca bumps his hip playfully.
"So, what do you think?" Luca asks, his voice low.
Draco is quiet for a moment, processing.
"It's... not what I'm used to," he admits. "But I can see why you love them so much. They're... warm. It's different,"
He thinks about the last time his mother gave him a hug unprompted and comes up blank or his father discussed his potion achievements with pride. It makes a small bubble of envy grow in him, that he usually inspires in others.
Luca's eyes soften. "Thank you for coming. For trying."
As Draco prepares to leave, Aggie hugs him again, this time he returns it awkwardly. Luca's father shakes his hand warmly and his mother pulls into a warm hug, inviting him to come over again soon.
Outside, under the stars, Draco turns to Luca. "I still don't understand everything," he says honestly. "But I want to. Can we... can we do this again?"
Luca's smile is brighter than any star. "Anytime, Draco. Anytime."
"-the night that I first fell in love to, those magic changes, my heart rearranges…"
Draco blinks the vision away in irritation. They aren't surprising or noteworthy anymore and he is resolved to ignore them in hopes of them going away. He turns his attention back the Greece sound track that Luna gave it to him as a Christmas present, saying, "Everyone needs this in their car's CD collection, Draco. It's a classic."
He didn't hate it, though he thinks it's melodramatic and still prefers music that is actually from the fifties, like his former vampire self. He loathes to admit it but the vampire actually had decent taste. Draco flips another page in the "Wizard of Oz," a book that he is giving another shot to entertain him and continues reading about a girl who wonders around a strange land with her uncles. He gets a kick out of the lion being the cowardly one thinking of Longbottom the least Gryffindor student he ever met.
The sound of Weaselette's panicked voice shatters the peaceful bubble in his mind.
"Where's Harry?" she asks in a panicked voice, sending chills down Draco's spine.
"I thought he was with you," Hermione responds, her voice laced with worry.
Draco curses himself for not noticing earlier that the dunderhead was missing. He watches as Hermione's mind replays the moment Harry left the library with the two Weasels, and he feels a twinge of guilt for not paying closer attention.
"He was, but then we separated when he went into a bookshop. The clerk said he was there but left when they didn't have the book he wanted," Weaselette explains frantically.
"What book was he looking for?" Hermione asks, confusion evident on her face.
"He wouldn't say, claiming customer confidentiality," Weaselette sneers, rolling her eyes, "He thought we were crazy fans,"
"No, it's because you threatened to beat him up if he didn't tell us, Harry's location," Ron says in a putout voice.
"And it would have worked too if he had any experience with my special bat-bogey swing," Weaelette huffs.
Draco tunes out the rest of their conversation, his mind already racing ahead as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. He knows which bookshop Weaselette is talking about, having seen it in her mind. He parks outside and strolls in, leaning against the counter until the clerk that he saw in the Weaselette's head appears to help him.
"What are you looking for today?" he asks in a chirpy customer service voice.
Draco forces a charming smile on his face and purrs in a low musical voice, "I'm a friend of Harry Swan's we were supposed to meet here, but it appears he's run off,"
A dazed look enters the man's eyes for a moment before he shakes it off and narrows his eyes, but it is enough for Draco catch the flicker of the name of the bookstore Potter went to as his human brain invertedly thinks about it.
"Customer information is private," the man snaps as he stalks off to the next customer.
Draco doesn't linger as he races back to his car, and shoves the key into the ignition. With a dangerous fishtail maneuver, Draco turns his car around and speeds off in Harry's direction, catching glimpses of Harry's face in the minds of the cars he passes.
As the area around him turns grim and rundown, Draco feels a surge of terror course though him. It's getting dark now and he hasn't seen another person in quite some time. Finally spotting Harry's back in a stranger's mind, Draco's heart plummets at the sight of him clutching onto a bag with white-knuckled fists.
In a blink, Draco watches the image move showing a horrifying slow motion scene of Harry huddled on the ground, surrounded by a mob of men raining down blows on him until his body is bruised and bloody. As the scene turns darker Draco yanks himself out with every fiber of his being, knowing it will only fuel his rage and further risk Harry's safety.
Growling in frustration, Draco slams his foot harder on the gas pedal and races towards Harry's location. His senses are flooded with fragments of the others' minds - thoughts that would have once made his human self cower in fear. Now, they only serve to stoke his determination and anger, reminding him that these fragile humans have no idea who they are messing with.
As he swerves into an alleyway and catches sight of Harry in defense position with a stick raised like a wand, as if from muscle memory. Draco's fear spicks knowing that there is no magic to protect them now.
The approaching monsters hesitate when Draco revs the engine in a menacing manner, giving him just enough time to roll down the window and snarl at Harry, "Get in, Swan."
Harry looks at him with fear filled green eyes and for a terrifying second Draco thinks Harry will run away and he will have to drag him in, but then the fear melts from his eyes. Harry lunges for the door handle and throws himself into the car. Draco feels himself calm incrementally as Harry's scent burns his throat. He swerves wide almost hitting the monsters, who retreat into the alleyway and drives away. Harry's heart thrums in his ears like a pulse and the smell of adrenaline fills up the car.
"Put your seatbelt on Swan," he barks and Harry scrambles to do just that.
"Are you hurt?" Draco growls, in a tight voice, after he sees Harry buckled in.
He doesn't smell any blood but he knows there are ways to hurt people other than bloodshed.
Harry shakes his head, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated, tremors wracking through his body. They did that to him, he thinks a fierce desire to turn around and destroy them burning in his veins. He can't though, not with Harry still in his care. He is about to open his mouth to try and comfort him, though it's not really in his wheel house when Harry's eyes glance at the speed optimeter and widen further.
"Draco why are you going under the speed limit?" Potter asks in a slightly panicked voice.
Draco glares at him for asking such a ridiculously obvious question.
"Because it's too high," Draco growls.
"The speed limit is seventy and you are going forty-five?" Potter says, looking out his window as another car goes around them.
"The slowest you are legally allowed to go on a highway," Draco says in tight voice.
Potter gives him a confused look seeming to have calmed down completely, "But, why?"
"Ninety-nine percent of individuals survive head on crashes at speeds lower than fifty miles an hour. This drops to thirty-one percent when speeding up to fifty miles an hour. The chances at seventy miles an hour are next to none." Draco recites in a academic tone that sounds worryingly like Hermione's.
Potter gives him an unimpressed look.
"Are you planning to crash your car?" Potter deadpans, not looking nearly as worried as he should.
"Of course not but I can't control other people on the road," Draco says in a harsh voice.
"I…guess that makes sense," Potter says before falling silent and fiddling with his hands in his lap.
Draco's piercing gaze falls upon the shallow scratch on Potter's palm, his vision turning red with a bloodlust. He must have tripped running away before Draco got there he thinks, venom filling his mouth.
"Keep distracting me," Draco snarls through clenched teeth, his fingers digging deep trenches into the leather steering wheel.
"How?" Potter asks, his face filled with curiosity and a hint of amusement.
"Say something, anything!" Draco hisses, the urge to tear someone apart rising back up in him with alarming speed.
Potter should be scared, he should be a shivering pile of goo on Draco's floor boards, yet he regards Draco with the most trusting of expressions.
"Is it true that Astoria and you are dating" Potter blurts out.
Draco scoffs, typical Potter always so unobservant.
"Yes, Potter that's why I'm spending my Friday night with you, because Stori and I are just so in love," Draco growls out.
"You even have cute nicknames for each other! She calls you Dray, you know, when you aren't around," Potter exclaims looking annoyed.
Merlin, what a airhead Draco thinks with a groan.
"Potter she asked me out, but I turned her down,"
Potter looks at him with shock focusing on the least important part of the sentence as always.
"Wait, she asked you out? When?"
"Second day of class," he says with a grimace.
She was a sweet girl, his mother probably would have loved her. Alas the stars were not in line for them.
"Then why did you crash Cedric and I's date with her, if you weren't on a date?"
Ah so it was a date he managed to wreck, Draco thinks for a moment with satisfaction, before the bloodlust takes over again.
"It was a study date, much like the one I went on with Hermione," he grinds out, trying not to picture how satisfying those goon's blood would feels dripping down his fingers.
"Oh," Potter exclaims relaxing, "I think Ron is finally going to ask Hermione out,"
And she will probably say yes to the absolute buffoon, despite her ability to do much better.
"Not meaningless school drama," Draco groans through gritted teeth tempted to rip Potter's head off just to get some relief.
Potter goes quiet and the unmistakable scent of fear hits Draco like acid. Draco stiffens in frustration as he turns into a deserted parking lot and slams on the brakes, causing the car to screech and shake. His grip on the steering wheel turns white-knuckled as he contemplates letting Severus handle the aftermath of his murderous thoughts towards the humans, especially once he gets rid of Potter. He whirls towards his passenger, prepared to try and leash all of his pent-up anger and reassure Potter, but before he can even speak, Potter's warm lips are on his, engulfing him in a passionate and desperate kiss. Time stands still as Potter's tongue explores every inch of his mouth, electrifying his nerve endings like a muggle television. With ease, he reaches out and grasps Potter's hip lifting Potter onto his lap and pulling him closer.
Potter lets out a low growl as Draco wrestles the control of the kiss from him and devours his mouth, slamming his frail body against the steering wheel with bruising force. With a possessive grip on Potter's head, Draco locks him in place, kissing and lightly nipping and sucking down the skin of his neck careful not to leave marks. Potter willingly surrenders, melting into Draco's embrace.
Potter whines at his lips being neglected and Draco returns to him with renewed force. Teeth and tongue collide as he ravages every crevice of Potter's mouth, drawing out desperate whimpers and writhing movements. Each kiss threatens to push him over, his control teetering on the brink of destruction. Potter's hands hook and claw at Draco's shirt, pulling and tearing at the fabric as his nails rack down his skin and push against his shoulders, his body smouldering with feverish want.
Potter can't breath, Draco thinks distantly, the thought clouded by the need still pounding through him.
Potter can't breathe! Draco is suffocating him with the kiss.'
Draco forces himself to picture Pansy's breasts until the hunger and desire goes back to manageable levels. He pulls back from Potter and the boy collapses onto his chest, gasping for air.
"Swan?" Draco asks in a small worried voice.
The boy shifts on his chest, the corners of his kissed bruised lips going up in a wobbly smile while small tears drip out of the corners of his eyes. Draco feels his chest constrict with guilt and he brushes away the evidence of his loss of control with his thumb.
"I'm fine, just give me a minute," Potter pants in a strained voice, "You have a very high lung capacity,"
Potter cuddles into Draco, his head cradled in the crook of Draco's neck, his hot breath staining his skin. Draco, feeling indulgent after almost killing him with a kiss, lets him, making soft comforting noises and soothing a hand up and down Potter's back as his breath evens out. His lips brush the top of Potter's head in a almost kiss. I've got you, he thinks, wrapping his arms loosely around Potter and pulling him closer to his chest.
Potter looks so vulnerable, his warm body molded against Draco's in the dimly lit car. With his long lashes brushing his cheeks and his delicate lips slightly parted, he probably wouldn't even fight him if Draco bowed his head a few inches and…
"Potter?" he asks in a tense voice, distracting himself.
Potter's eyes flutter open looking up at him with a relaxed sleepy expression.
"Hmm?" Potter hums in question.
He looks so…trusting. It makes him ill at ease.
"How are you so calm?"
Draco checks for the tell tell glassiness of a impending panic attack. Potter eyes open wider and his sleepy expression becomes more alert.
"What do you mean?" Potter asks a touch of confusion colouring his voice.
"Any m-human would be a trembling, shaky mess after what you just went through but you are just…," he trails off feeling Potter cuddle deeper against his neck, against the very monster who put him there in the first place and almost killed him two minutes ago.
He shakes his head in irritation. No, not a monster, he argues fiercely shoving the thought away, he isn't good but he is doing all this to save his parents.
"Fine," he finishes lamely.
Potter's next words are so quiet Draco almost misses them.
"I feel safe with you,"
Draco chokes on a unnecessary gasp of air.
"You-what? How?" Draco stumbles on his words.
Draco hears Potter heart rate speed up in embarrassment as he sighs, his breath tickling his neck.
"You are always saving me whenever I am in danger, how could I not feel safe with you?" Potter says as if it is as simple as that.
Draco's heart drops to his stomach as nausea consumes him. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. Not even his childhood friends. This must not be the correct moment to end him, he justifies desperately. It doesn't feel climatic enough, or imbued with enough meaning. Though maybe Draco is giving the muggle author too much credit, by assuming it will be a big moment.
The growl of Potter's stomach breaks his tense thoughts.
"Have you eaten yet?" Draco asks relieved to be back on familiar ground of keeping Potter fed.
Potter's head moves back and forth in answer, and Draco runs affectionate fingers through Potter's hair, causing Potter to blush a lovely shade of red.
"Let's get you something to eat then,"
Draco turns the car back around and heads towards town, it is then that Harry feels his phone buzz for what has to be the millionth time. He turns on the screen and sees fifty missed calls from Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He feels guilt creep into his stomach at the thought of worrying them.
"I need to call my friends to let them know that I am okay," Harry says, his voice still roughed from the lack of air.
"Go ahead," Draco says without taking his eyes off the road.
Harry dials Ginny's number knowing that she will not be driving.
"Harry!" Ginny exclaims over the speaker, "Where are you?"
"I'm with Draco," Harry says in small voice.
There's a pause on the line and he hears Ron and Hermione's muffled voices on the other end.
"Oh…you're alone with Draco," Ginny says in a sly voice, "I thought you said he had plans when I told you to invite him? Or did you just want him all to yourself?"
"Ginny!" Harry hisses pressing the speaker closer to his ear, thankful that he didn't put the phone on speaker, so Draco can't hear.
"So I guess you don't want to meet up for dinner with us, then?" Ginny asks laughing, "Since it's a date and everything,"
"It's not a date," Harry hisses in a low voice.
Draco gives him a strange look as if he is questioning his sanity. Harry is as well.
"Uh huh," Ginny says doubtfully.
"You guys haven't eaten yet," He says, changing the topic.
He feels guilty that they waited for him.
"And make you eat by yourself! Of course not what kind of friends would we be if we did that to you?" Ginny exclaims, "Have fun, Harry, I expect a full update later or I am revoking your jacket privileges,"
Harry listens as the line goes dead, feeling grateful for his friends, as he pockets his phone. When he glances out the passenger window he notices that the car has stopped and they are parked in front of a Italian restaurant.
"Ti piace il cibo italiano, tesoro?" Draco murmurs leaning so close that his minty apple breath brushes against Harry's face.
Harry blinks his eyes slowly as he tries to register the words with Draco's close proximity.
"You speak Italian?" he asks.
Draco laughs.
"Only the few phrases, Blaise taught me," he says sliding out of the car and seconds later opening Harry's door.
Draco holds out a hand and Harry grabs it blushing, as Draco pulls him to his feet.
"So, what did you ask me?" Harry asks, feeling frustrated that he took French instead of Italain.
He has a feeling Draco will not be entirely honest with him.
"Do you like Italian food?"
"Yes," Harry says as they walk into the warm exterior, thankful for what he still thinks of as Draco's coat wrapped around him.
Draco holds the door open for Harry as they walk into the restaurant his intense gold eyes never leaving his face. The hostess, a young woman with flowing caramel hair and bright blue eyes, greets Draco with a warm smile. Her eyes linger on Draco, who remains oblivious to her subtle admiration. She doesn't register Harry's fame to his relief. He follows Draco to a large table, but Draco smoothly requests a smaller, more intimate one. The hostess obliges with reluctance, leading them to a quiet cozy corner table, partially hidden from the other guests and their prying eyes by a well placed plant.
As they settle into their seats, Harry observes the elegant interior of the restaurant. Soft golden lights cast a warm glow over the walls adorned with scones and terracotta bricks . The chatter of other diners weaves into a soothing symphony, creating an atmosphere of old-school romance and charm.
Their waiter, a young man with a charming smile and an air of confidence, glides over to their table. He effortlessly takes Draco's order, flashing him a flirtatious look that makes Harry feel slightly uncomfortable. The waiter seems to have eyes only for Draco, his gaze lingering on him as he takes in every detail. Draco clears his throat in annoyance and gestures towards Harry, giving the waiter a pointed look. Realizing his mistake, the waiter blushes and turns to Harry for his order. Harry quickly scans the menu and orders a coke and mushroom ravioli, the first thing he sees. The waiter rushes off to put in their order, returning moments later with a basket of warm bread and their drinks. He lingers awkwardly for a moment, but when it becomes clear that Draco's attention is solely on Harry, he leaves with a huff. Harry almost feels bad for him. Almost.
"Are you magic or something?" Harry blurts out, blaming it on his low blood sugar.
Draco gives him a startled look and asks, "What?"
"You dazzle people," Harry says in a quiet voice as if he is admitting a embarrassing secret, "Like earlier with the hostess, she was so stunned by your appearance that she didn't even recognize me and it happened again with the waiter,"
"I'm so sorry that I stole your thunder, Swan," Draco sneers in a sarcastic voice not looking sorry in the least.
Harry gives him a adoring look, "No, it's incredible, I wish you would come with me everywhere, you are like a fame shield,"
Harry heats up as he realizes how that sounds.
The sneer slips from Draco's face.
"You like that I stop people from fanning over you?" Draco says with a unfathomed look on his face.
"I love it," Harry says in a ecstatic voice, relishing the freedom to look around the room and observe the other diners, knowing all eyes would be on Draco.
"Why?"
Harry feels confused for a moment then he remembers that this is one of the many topics that they haven't covered during their dinners with his friends and after the doctor appointments. After hearing about Draco's childhood growing up in a manor house in England, the summers he spent in France and sharing the PG version of the details about his own it's easy to forget that a few short months ago they were at each other's throats. That there was still so much that they don't know about each other.
"I hate my fame," Harry says in a bitter voice, "And all the attention that comes with it. Everything that I do is watched and judged and found wanting,"
Draco looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, "I can empathize with why you dislike the negative attention, but I am confused as to why you reject the positive,"
Harry sighs, this is what Malcom always struggled to understand about him as well.
"Because it's not real," he says, balling his napkin in his fist, "They don't adore me, they adore an idealized version of me, someone they see as brave and out ballet dancer, or a daredevil stunt person. They don't see my doubts or my fear, and when they do they are disappointed,"
Without warning Draco's hand reaches across the table, and covers Harry's, his intense eyes boring into his.
"I'm not disappointed," he says in a quiet voice.
Draco pulls his hand back when waiter come by with Harry's food. He sits the plate down without looking at either of them and then leaves. Draco's eyes follow him, an angry grimace on his face.
"What's wrong?" Harry asks concerned that he missed something.
"Nothing, of importance," Draco says in a distracted voice, "Eat,"
Harry complies digging into his food not realizing until now just how hungry he is. After eating half of his plate he looks up to see Draco watching him with fascination and the words of a question that has been bugging him slip out.
"How did you find me?" he asks.
Draco's face goes blank and he looks like he is considering how to answer.
"Hypothetically, what if I said, I read people's minds?" Draco asks in a careful voice.
"How?" Harry asks, leaning forward his food already forgotten.
"Eat your food and I will tell you," Draco says with narrowed eyes at Harry's plate.
Harry quickly shoves a piece of pasta in his mouth and chews, Draco snorts. Harry gives him an expectant look.
"When your friends noticed that you were missing I heard their thoughts, I read the location of the bookstore from the clerks head you talked to and then followed the trail of people you passed. That's when I heard the thoughts of those men," Draco growls out the last words.
"All the way in Forks?" Harry asks incredulously, unable to believe that Draco could have possibly been tracking him from such a distance.
"Hypothetically," Draco spits out again, clearly struggling to maintain his composure, "My range is limited to a few measly miles. I was- I might have been following you and your friends, but I wasn't paying close enough attention to notice when you slipped away without them."
"Why didn't you just read my mind? Why did you bother with the thoughts of my friends?"
"I can't read your mind," Draco spits out as if admitting a failing of his.
"But..you just said-"
Draco interrupts him, voice laced with irritation, "I can infiltrate everyone's mind except yours,"
"Is there something wrong with me?"
Draco sneers, his perfect teeth gleaming white, "I stalked you and invaded your friend's privacy, and yet you're worried that there's something wrong with you,"
Harry feels a bundle of nerves build in his stomach and he puts his fork down not feeling hungry anymore. Draco sighs and reaches his hand across the table cupping the one that dropped the fork, rubbing his thumb across the back.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Harry," Draco says in a heavy voice, "There's something wrong with me for pursuing you,"
Harry feels his heart skip at the use of his first name and twists his hand until his finger thread through Draco's and squeezes.
"You've saved my life twice, there's nothing wrong with you either,"
For some reason a vaguely guilty expression crosses Draco's face, but he quickly shakes it away,
"Are you ready?" he asks gesturing to Harry's plate.
Harry shoves the last ravioli in his mouth and then nods. Draco throws a hundred dollar bill on the table and then gets up and offers his arm. Harry surprised, takes it letting Draco lead him out of the restaurant.
Draco checks the speedometer, ensuring it hovers at forty-five before glancing at Potter. He sits pensively in his seat, looking at the world going by out the window. What Draco wouldn't give to know what he is thinking.
"No more questions, Agent Powers?" Draco says in a teasing voice.
It has the desired effect as Potter turns towards him and snorts.
"You know he wasn't even that great of a spy, he mostly got by with dumb luck,"
Draco thinks, so did you if my father is to be believed, but decides not to say so out loud. Draco feels the mood shift in the car as Harry takes a stilting breath of air, the humour fading from his face. His face looks tense as he hesitates and then seems to force the words out of his mouth.
"You aren't human, are you?" Potter asks in a wavering voice.
Abruptly Draco swerves the car to the side of the road, not wanting to endanger him by having this conversation while driving. He feels his early anger creeping back now that he doesn't have to bother with his human mask. He turns to face Potter with a devilish smirk, his ice-cold breath causing Potter to shiver.
"No," Draco purrs, leaning in closer until his lips brush against Potter's ear. "I am far more than human."
Potter the reckless little thing draws closer, his heartbeat a tempting rhythm pounding in the back of Draco's head. Draco feels venom filling his mouth and fights against the urge to duck his head down and steal a bite.
"You said you were dangerous," Potter mutters sounding frustrated and confused.
"Very dangerous," Draco confirms as he wears a wicked gleam in his eyes, baring his teeth in warning.
Potter inches even closer, looking completely entranced by his aura.
"You're a-a…," Harry stutters out, as Draco smells both unease and desire coursing through his veins.
"It's okay, say it," Draco urges, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Vampire," Potter chokes out, looking like it cost him something to say the word, his heart beating wild with fear.
It makes Draco want to pull him close, to bury his teeth in his flesh, to steal his worries with a kiss, to drain him of his blood….Draco squeezes his eyes shut as the confusing array of lust and hunger battle for attention.
"Go ahead, scream," he taunts, as Potter's eyes widen, "Try to escape. Try to convince yourself that you can outrun me, that you can fight me off. I'll catch you before you even get out of the car. Drain you dry while you're still gasping for air."
Draco waits for the change to overcome Potter's face as he is consumed with fear and disgust but amazingly Potter remains calm, a stubborn look crossing his face as he refuses to shrink back. It makes Draco's teeth clench with the desire to shake him until all of his warnings sink in.
"I am not scared. I know you would never hurt me deliberately," Harry says, his voice betraying only a hint of hesitation.
"I can smell it on you," he hisses, his nose filling with the aroma sugary sweet acid.
Harry shakes his head in denial.
"I know what you are doing and it won't work," Harry says in an irritated voice.
Draco wonders what he is doing. He is supposed to be wooing Potter now that he finally has him cornered not pushing him away. He knows this is how the story is supposed to go. That Potter the brainless human is supposed to be intoxicated by him despite the danger, maybe even because of it, Gryffindor that he is. Everything is falling into to place, all Draco needs to do is quiet the niggling voice in the back of his head and play his part. But somehow he can't stop the words from coming out, fueled by the strange emotion that keeps driving him forward.
"So what a couple of kisses and now you think we're in love?" Draco scoffs in a disbelieving voice.
Potter wears a meditative frown not seeming to be thrown by Draco's change of tactic.
"Of course not," he says with an annoyed shake of his head, "But I think we should at least give this a chance,"
"I'd like to get to know you,"
Harry is quiet for a moment before he says in a shy voice, "If you will let me,"
Draco looks at him with shock, his mouth gaping open.
Thi-this isn't how he'd pictured Potter's surrender to him. He'd imagined fucking him in the forest against a tree, his moans of pleasure mixing with his cries of pain. Or sucking him off in a parked car on the side of the road, the bitter taste of his spend lingering in his mouth. Not emotions and feelings, not talking and sweetness. Not Harry. The entire thing makes him sick.
With a sneer firmly back in place, Draco spits out, "And what happened to 'no dating'?"
Harry sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair.
"I think I was just waiting for the right person," he says softly, his green eyes shining with sincerity. "Someone who I could...trust."
Draco's sneer falters.
"You think that person is me?" he challenges, ignoring vulnerable flutter in his chest.
Harry turns towards him fully now, their eyes locked in an intense gaze. It's as if he can see through all of Draco's carefully crafted masks and defenses, making his dead insides squirm uncomfortably.
"I think you have a good chance of becoming that person," Harry says simply.
Draco growls like a wild animal and Harry barely blinks at him.
"What makes you think you can trust me? I could have followed you here to lure you away. Those men just obstacles between me and my prey," Draco says in a low voice, feeling cornered.
"Then why did you feed me?" Harry challenges his eyes hard and unwilling to back down.
Draco pulls his lips back in a snarl.
"I enjoy the hunt, lulling my prey into a false sense of complicity, before taking what I want," Draco jeers with a sinister smile.
In an instant, Draco straddles Harry's hips, causing him to gasp for air. He leans in close, his superior senses tasting the surprise on Harry's lips before trailing his nose along the line of his artery, the heat from his skin branding him. A soft whimper escapes Harry as he trembles under Draco's weight.
"I'm the perfect predator, darling" Draco purrs against Harry 's skin, relishing in the way his words elicit shivers. "Everything about me draws you in."
With a flick of his tongue along the shell of Harry's ear, Draco brings his hands up to cup his face.
"My voice," he whispers, listening to Harry's breath catch in his throat.
"My looks," he says as he tilts Harry's head back, watching as desire clouds his eyes.
"Even my scent..."
Draco lowers his lips until they just brush against Harry's, their heated breath mingling in the air between them. And when the intoxicating smell of Harry's arousal coats his tongue, Draco can't resist any longer. He crashes his lips onto Harry's, lavishing his mouth with his tongue. His hands slip under Harry's shirt, exploring every inch of heated skin and drawing out guttural moans from him. Draco draws his lips away his intense gaze taking him in. Harry's breath comes in ragged gasps, his hair disheveled, dark strands sticking to his sweat-drenched forehead. The green of his eyes is nearly eclipsed by the dilated blackness of his pupils, a clear sign of his desire. Draco feels satisfaction curl in him.
"You claim not to be afraid," Draco whispers against Harry's pulse before pressing his lips to it with a deceptive gentleness. "That you trust me."
He thrusts his hips forward in a hard tantalizing motion.
"Draco," Harry groans, pressing up against him.
"But there is one question you haven't asked yet," Draco says, pausing to let the anticipation build, his thumb hovering over an erect nipple, making Harry squirm beneath him.
"What do I eat?"
His voice drips with intent as he starts moving his thumb again, teasing around and around, as he lets his words sink in. Harry stiffens underneath him before forcing himself to relax.
"D-on't care," Harry says in a stuttering voice.
Draco lets out a quiet laugh.
"So, you don't mind if I take a taste?" Draco croons, dragging his teeth across Harry's throat.
Draco can taste his excitement in the air as if Harry's blood longs to enter Draco's mouth, his neck tilting to the side to give Draco better access.
"No," Harry whimpers, as Draco sucks gently at his pulse point before giving him a light nip, careful not to break skin.
Draco blurs off of Harry and restarts the car. He gives Harry a strange look.
"Sometimes I simply don't know what to think of you," Draco says aghast as the strange emotion drains out of him.
Harry seems to collapse in his seat, looking exhausted from Draco's emotional whiplash. The scent of his untended arousal still lingering between them.
"Me either," he mutters so quietly that Draco only hears it with his sensitive hearing.
Draco stalls the car outside the Dursley's house and turns to Harry, his silent eyes seeming to categorize every detail of him as if he too knows that something between them has irrevocably changed. A tender expression softens Draco's features as he leans in close, his hand cupping Harry's jaw with an almost painful gentleness. Emotions flicker across Draco's face at lightning speed, too fleeting for Harry to decipher, before he presses a delicate kiss to Harry's lips that sears straight through him. In the hole that Draco's kiss leaves a familiar bubbling emotion spills into his chest, the warning sign of an impending disaster. Harry shoves his way out of the car before he does something rash, like yank Draco closer.
Harry bursts through the front door, Uncle Vernon's angry shout about the noise barely registering as he races upstairs. He slams his bedroom door shut and collapses against it, sliding to the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The room darkens as night falls, casting long, menacing shadows across the walls. The sudden quiet outside his window feels oppressive, unnatural. In an instant, Harry is back in the alley, panic clawing at his throat.
Phantom hands grab at him, shoving him to the ground. Their touch sears his skin like hot iron, and he bites back a scream. The world tilts, reality blurring at the edges. A gilded mirror materializes in his peripheral vision, and suddenly a man in a turban stands where his attackers were. Harry's heart pounds, an inexplicable dread washing over him at the sight.
A high, cold voice hisses in his ear, words overlapping and distorting: "Bring the boy... What does he see... What do you see Harry Potter,"
The voice warps, changing from a commanding Scottish woman's to the sneering voice of a disdainful boy, to a roaring crowd, "Mr. Potter... Scarhead…The Boy Who Lived…What do you see?"
"Make them stop" Harry cries out, clutching his head. "I don't know who I am anymore!"
Images flash rapid-fire through his mind: a younger version of himself, grinning, holding a strange stone; a monstrous face melting off the back of someone's head; a man transforming into a werewolf before his eyes. Each vision brings a fresh wave of agony, and Harry grits his teeth, desperately trying to stifle his screams.
"You're a wizard, Harry," a giant's voice booms presenting him with a squashed cake, while another asks in a terrified voice, "What do you see, sweetheart?"
The pain intensifies, becoming almost unbearable. Harry's thoughts fracture, memories and reality blending together.
"Stop!" he pleads, his voice barely a whisper. "Please, Draco..."
An old memory surfaces: he's small, huddled in a dark cupboard, willing himself to be quiet, to not whimper in pain, to forget his body exists. "If he's lucky, in the morning Aunt Petunia will give him bandages," a detached part of his mind thinks.
Just as the pain threatens to consume him entirely, gentle hands pull his own away from his eyes. Harry blinks, disoriented.
"Harry," a new voice says in a worried tone close to his ear and he feels a cool finger stroke his cheek.
A moment later he registers wetness on his face, tears, he must be crying he thinks distantly. He whimpers as the pain in his head throbs dully.
"Oh sweetheart," the new voice frets, lifting him under his arms and settling him into his lap.
Cool arms wrap around him and pull him closer, rubbing lightly against his arms and back.
"I've got you, Harry," the new voice soothes.
A face with a pointed nose nuzzles the top of his head, and Harry feels himself relaxing into that cold chest. They sit for a few quiet minutes, him and the new voice, before lips press firmly into the crown of his head.
"Lets get you sorted then," the new voice murmurs as hands help him to his feet and lead him over to his dresser, catching him each time he trips over his shaky legs.
The flawless white hands open the first drawer and pull out a set of matching pyjamas, one of the first gifts Sirius gave him because it was something he said he missed in prison. The hands carefully turn him around and Harry jerks back as he meets hateful silver eyes. Malfoy he thinks as he feels the painful burst of his nose cracking behind his eyes, sees the pointed smirking face wearing a "Potter Stinks" button, hears a sarcastic voice sneering, "Why so tense, Potter? My father and I have a bet, you see. I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in this tournament ... He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five!". Harry loses his balance and falls down.
"Harry!" the new voice yelps, kneeling down clutching at Harry's hands as he leverages him back up.
Harry, not Potter, he thinks, blinking. He looks closer at the pale pointed face and at last sees gold not silver irises.
"Draco?"
The pointed face softens, their tight expression of worry disappearing.
"Yes, love I'm here," Draco says, "Now will you let me take off your clothes so I can put some pajamas on you?"
Harry nods as a warm feeling of trust and knowing fills his chest not dissimilar to the first time he held his wand. Draco sighs in relief as he bends down and helps Harry out of his jeans and into soft green pyjama pants. Next comes off his shirt, replaced with a pyjama shirt. Draco's fingers don't linger and Harry is almost disappointed.
"There we go," Draco hums, kissing Harry on the forehead, "You look all cosy,"
Draco leads Harry over to the bed and helps him lay down. As Draco takes a step away, Harry's eyes widen in fear and he lets out a low whine.
Draco wears a small smile and makes shushing noises.
"Don't worry you goof, I'm just retrieving the object I returned home in first place for. I won't be leaving you again, I promise,"
Harry hears Draco mutter, "Don't get panic attacks my ass,"
Draco moves back for a moment and unfolds a wired blanket that Harry notices is plugged into the wall. He approaches Harry and wraps him in the hot, fuzzy blanket and then settles into the bed next to him.
"Scoot over you great lump," Draco says shoving Harry over so he has room to wrap his long limbs around him.
Draco cuddles against him, sighing in contentment.
"Now I can finally hold you without you shivering in my arms, muggles really do come up with great inventions," Draco mumbles to himself.
Seconds later he finds himself falling asleep. He wakes the next morning in an empty bed, wondering if it was all a dream.
Draco gazes down at Harry, splayed across the bed in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, his arm outstretched, fingers curling as if grasping for something. Even in sleep, Harry's features are soft and inviting. Draco's name escapes Harry's lips in a soft murmur, laced with sleepiness and Draco tenderly combs his fingers through Harry's dishevelled hair, smoothing it back into place. He smiles when Harry leans into the touch. Draco reluctantly pulls away, feeling a strange pang of loss at the action.
Harry's fingers dart out to wrap around his, the mumbled words, "Don't go," a strange echo of that rainy night that feels so long ago.
"So this is where the famous Boy Wonder lives?" Severus asks as he practically apparates to Draco's side.
Draco startles, his vampire reflexes not anticipating Severus's sudden appearance.
"Oh Severus, hush, I think he looks precious when he is sleeping," Lily coos appearing next to Severus in the blink of a human eye.
She leans over Harry and Draco can't help but see her in the rounded shape of Harry's face and the flared line of his nose.
"I told you guys to wait outside," Draco growls as he disentangles his hand from Harry's weak grasp, his empty hand falling limp on the bedsheets.
Draco balls his hand into a fist as he turns away from Harry and blurs out the window. On the back lawn, he says to the night air,
"Hurry up, I want to be back before he wakes up,"
Lily and Severus appear instantly by his side.
"I do better, when I have a strong familiarity with the scent, I am tracking," Lily says with a shrug.
"But you're not tracking his scent. I didn't let them anywhere near Harry. You're tracking their scent," Draco snarls, pulling back his lips to expose his perfect white teeth—perfect for ripping out some pathetic human throats.
Lily gives him a solemn look, "You still have a lot to learn about tracking, young one," before breaking into a mischievous smile and taking off in a run.
Draco and Severus follow her, Draco biting back the words that he was technically older than her. As they race through the night, the air grows thick with tension. They approach the alley where Harry had nearly met his end, and Lily's nostrils flare, her eyes darkening as she catches the scent.
"This way," she murmurs, her voice barely audible even to vampire ears.
They move with inhuman speed through the shadows, following Lily's lead as she traces the faint trail of Harry's would-be attackers. The forest looms ahead, and within minutes, they find themselves before a dilapidated shack.
The structure seems to hunch over as if one strong gust of wind might topple it. A broken stair creaks ominously under Draco's foot as they climb onto the porch. Shadows dance across the weathered boards, cast by the dim moonlight filtering through the canopy above.
Draco's fist clenches as he picks up the slight scent of blood.
"Are you sure they're here?"
Severus raises a hand, in warning.
"Something's not right," he hisses, "I hear no heartbeats,"
Lily circles the shack, her movements fluid and predatory. She pauses, crouching to examine something on the ground. Red splatters paint the grass.
"Blood," she says through clenched teeth, "But it's... different."
The trio exchanges glances before bursting into the shack. Draco, in his haste, ploughs straight into a thick curtain of cobwebs. He recoils, disgust evident on his pale face as he frantically brushes the sticky strands from his hair and clothes.
Inside, the scent of human blood lingers, but there is no sign of recent habitation. No struggle, no hasty departure - just emptiness and a feeling of wrongness that sets his nerves on edge. The floorboards groan under their feet, and a rat scurries across the room, disappearing into a hole in the dilapidated wooden wall.
Severus's gaze falls on the kitchen sink, piled high with grimy dishes covered in mouldy food remnants. His lip curls in revulsion.
"How can humans possibly survive in such revolting conditions?" he mutters, his voice dripping with disdain.
Draco growls in frustration, still picking cobwebs from his sleeve, "Where are they?"
Severus's eyes narrow as he examines the room, taking in the peeling wallpaper and the stained, sagging mattress in the corner.
"There's another scent here. Vampire, but not one I recognize."
Lily nods in agreement, running a finger along a dusty shelf.
"It's foreign, yet... there's something familiar about it," Draco says in a distant voice.
As they continue to search, Draco feels more and more restless as the scene before them starts to come together. The attackers hadn't simply fled - they'd vanished. A sudden gust of wind rattles the loose windowpanes, making them all tense.
Draco's voice is low, filled with determination and a hint of fear he'd never admit to, "Whatever's happened here, we need to figure it out before it's too late."