Chapter 26: Draco

Chemistry

"I loved the discovery chemistry offered. I loved the thrill of experiment, the challenge of trial and retrial. I loved the puzzle of it. I also will admit a somewhat foolish fondness toward the apparatus involved. The bottles and tubes. The acids and salts. The mercury and flame. There is something primal in chemistry, something that defies explication. Either you feel it or you don't." ― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Draco Malfoy's Private Potions Lab, Malfoy Manor

Draco stood, glaring, as he often did in Theo's presence, though the potency and furor of his glares had increased significantly in recent days.

Although Draco removed Theo's unmitigated access to Malfoy Manor's wards years ago, Muffy was a horrible enabler and let "Master Draco's good friend who likes Muffy's cheese pies" into the estate whenever he pleased. In the last week, Theo had spent nearly every waking hour in the Manor, continuing to derail Willy's work for the Charitable Potions Trust and causing such chaos that Draco wondered if it would not be more prudent to let Theo have the eager Hufflepuff for himself.

The Northeast Fountain had flooded, the conservatory was in shambles, and Willy's left eyebrow had been singed off in "a great learning experience" that had also reduced Narcissa's most prized set of serviettes to ashes.

Draco would have intimidated Theo out of his life—though he increasingly doubted his ability to do so—if not for the fact that he was harboring a secret from his friend that caused Draco tremendous guilt, though he would never admit it.

Astoria had not left.

Rather, Astoria did leave the manor each day, off to do what Draco presumed were her regular social obligations—and perhaps to continue planning her wedding to Pucey, though Draco did not ask—but she returned each evening, crawling into Draco's bed and wrapping her delicate arms around him. They had sex twice more since she first returned, but Draco was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. One adulterous encounter was one thing, but an extended affair pushed the limits of Draco's emotional capacity.

And Draco had not told Theo.

He had not told Theo, and now the dark-haired cretin had decided—for what Draco counted was the ninth time ever in their friendship—to be helpful.

Draco, having perfected the recipe for the current version of his anti-glamour potion, was ready to send it to the Potion Masters' Guild. If the guild gave him the minimum consideration, they would certify the potion and its effects, giving Draco the requirement—"an original and true contribution to modern potion-making"—to apply for an independent Mastery. Then, Draco would not need the backing of an apprenticeship under an established Master to take the Master's Exam.

Suffice it to say, Draco was nervous.

Theo was sitting at one of Draco's lab stools, tossing a bezoar in the air like a Quaffle, as if Draco were not about to entrust his most significant personal achievement to his hands.

Draco collected the necessary items for his application: a written recipe on parchment, in triplicate and certified by Gringott's Bank; a two-foot essay accounting for the potion as a unique contribution to modern potion-making; a ten-galleon application fee; and lastly, a sample of the potion itself. Draco had ten vials of the potion left after his rounds of testing. He had wanted to test the potion's effects on Polyjuice before applying, but the deadline for the Guild review period was approaching, and Draco knew that the currently established effects were enough for a fair consideration.

If the Guild wanted to be fair, that is. Which is why Theo was here. While obtaining the second of his three masteries (Transfiguration), Theo had worked with a potioneer who had later made his way into the Guild. "I saved him from having a tentacle instead of a big toe for the rest of his life, so he owes me," Theo had said. "Let me send your application to him. I guarantee they will look at it."

And now, here they were.

Theo tossed the bezoar for the hundredth time, and Draco snatched it from the air. "Theodore."

"Very nice, Mister Seeker," Theo replied in appreciation, unfazed. "Are we ready to get this broom in the sky?"

Draco sighed. "Here's everything," he said, gesturing to each application component, saving the vial for last. Theo reverently took the vial in his hands, kissing the small glass container, holding it aloft, and then cradling it in the crook of his arm like a precious baby.

Theo then perused the recipe and essay and burst out at the sight of something, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on here." He squinted at the top of the recipe scroll. "Malfoy's Potion for the Temporary Removal and Obstruction of Appearance-Altering Charms and Single-Process Human Transfiguration?" He looked up at Draco. "That's terrible!"

Draco blinked. "It's accurate."

Theo shook his head. "It's boring! You have to think about branding. This is the sub-title. You need the headline! These Guild blokes sit around for a month each year and judge people. They have the facade of academic superiority, but really," Theo raised his free hand and wiggled his fingers, "they want to be entertained."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I hardly think a title will affect things much."

"Then you won't mind if I embellish some things…" He murmured, plucking a self-inking quill from his robes and scribbling on Draco's application.

"Hey—" Draco protested, but Theo kept him away by kicking his dragon hide-clad boot into Draco's chest in a surprising demonstration of flexibility.

"Much better," Theo said happily, dropping the quill and handing the parchment to Draco.

The Imposter's Downfall

Draco looked up skeptically. "The Imposter's Downfall?"

"That's what this is! It's like the Goblin's Thief's Downfall, but on a smaller scale—and it's something that wizards can accomplish with—magic and whatnot. … Yes, we can frame this as wizard kind being able to replicate Goblin invention for the first time in the modern age." Theo almost buzzed with excitement. "Those old hags on the Guild hate Goblins—maybe. I can only assume. Most wizards resent Goblins, don't you think?—and in any case, this is branding."

Theo held up the silvery-clear potion vial and whispered, "The Imposter's Downfall."

Draco furrowed his brow. "I think the application itself should be more serious—"

"Presentation is serious. It's everything," Theo declared haughtily. "I will take care of it."

Draco groaned. "Theo…"

"Don't worry, my friend. I truly believe that for you, the thirtieth time's the charm. I have a great feeling. I will take it from here."

Draco tried to snatch the potion from Theo's hands, suddenly desperate to apply on his own, connections to the Guild be damned. "Give that back."

"No," Theo protested, lunging out of Draco's reach. They entered a struggle, and Theo resorted to leaping on top of one of Draco's worktables, precariously close to a cauldron where Draco was brewing the base for a batch of Dreamless Sleep. Draco had to retreat to save the cauldron from tipping over, and Theo was smirking in triumph when a voice interrupted them.

"Hello, gentlemen."

Theo yelped, spinning around so fast that he nearly toppled over. His eyes widened in shock, and before anyone could react, he popped off the stopper from the potion vial and flung its contents straight at the intruder's face.

"Bloody hell!" Draco shouted as the potion splattered, drenching the perfectly composed visage of Astoria Greengrass completely.

Astoria spat, wiping the liquid from her eyes with a furious expression. "Theo, you absolute prat!"

Theo blinked, his jaw dropping. "Tori?"

Astoria stood there, wet but still looking regal despite her dampened state. Draco cursed under his breath, immediately summoning a cloth with his wand and rushing to help.

"Here," Draco said, handing her the cloth. "The potion won't do anything to you. You're fine—it just removes cosmetic charms." Not that she needed them, Draco thought to himself. Astoria looked beautiful, even soaked through with—Draco would never tell her—what was essentially a base of stewed Demiguise saliva.

Astoria dabbed at her face, glaring at Theo.

Theo, still looking stunned, managed a weak grin. He left down from his position atop Draco's table, and Draco cursed as the Dreamless Sleep bubbled over onto the countertop. He rushed over to clean it up. The last thing they needed was a toxic accident. Some ingredients did not mix.

"Lovely to see you, Tori. Although … why am I seeing you?"

Draco stiffened, his heart beating a little faster.

"Lovely to see you too, Theo. Daphne tells me your little club is coming along," said Astoria, who had managed to put herself together though she remained damp with residue. She sat primly on a nearby stool, crossing her ankles in the posture of a perfect debutant.

"It's not supposed to be common knowledge," Theo frowned. "And it's not little."

"Oh, I won't tell a soul," Astoria replied with a knowing grin. "I'm just happy for you."

"Thanks …" Theo narrowed his eyes, looking between Draco and Astoria. "And why are you here again?"

Astoria turned her gaze to Draco, a small smile on her lips. "Just visiting. … Draco, darling, I'll be off soon. Meeting my mother and Daphne for a dinner event this evening."

Draco turned to her and nodded, vanishing the errant potions from his countertop and floors. In a valiant effort to avoid his best friend's piercing gaze, he walked over to his storage cabinet. He pulled out another carefully packaged vial of his potion, laying it on the table with his application parchments.

When he had set the vial down, Astoria rose from her seat and walked over to wrap her arms around Draco's torso.

Draco's breath caught in his throat as he returned the hug. Theo, watching the exchange, cleared his throat loudly.

"Right … what exactly is happening here?" Theo asked, his tone edged with concern.

Astoria pulled back from Draco, giving Theo a pointed look. "Mind your own business, Nott. I'll see you later, Draco?" She tilted her head, her expression questioning.

Draco nodded, his voice catching slightly as he replied, "Have a good evening."

Astoria smiled, her hand lingering on his arm momentarily before she turned and left the room. The door to Draco's quarters clicked shut softly behind her.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions. Theo was the first to break it.

"So, that was … something. Care to explain?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of Theo's gaze. "I don't know, Theo."

Theo gave him an incredulous look. "You don't know? You don't— … Astoria is engaged to Adrian Pucey."

"I know that."

"She is getting married."

"I know."

"She is not getting married to you."

"Thank you for that."

"And yet, she is here walking about your home in a dressing gown—don't think I missed that—and you don't know why."

Draco closed his eyes. "She came to me. She … might not want to go through with the wedding."

Theo looked at him blankly. "You and Astoria were miserable together."

Draco cursed under his breath. "You think I don't know that?"

"Okay," Theo declared. "This is more dire than I expected. There's only one solution."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

Theo clapped Draco on the back. "We need to get very, very drunk. It's the only way we'll be able to bypass all those years of stunted emotional development and figure out what the hell is going on in that precious repressed little brain of yours."

Draco groaned. "That's not—"

"BOB!"

Theo turned to his house-elf, who had appeared in the corner of the room with a sullen expression. "Bob, take this—" Theo handed the elf the application parchments and a replacement potion vial "—and put it in my study at Nott Manor. And for Merlin's sake, don't drop it."

Bob gave a curt nod. "Yes, Master." And with a crack, he was gone.

Theo looked back at Draco, his expression sobering. "Get your cloak." He looked over to Draco's rooms, where Astoria had disappeared. "You know what? No need, let's—we have to go."

Two hours later—
The White Wyvern, Knockturn Alley

Theo had ushered him into the White Wyvern, holding the collar of his shirt as if Draco were an errant child, and plied him with alcohol.

In a display of weak will that would have horrified his father, it had only taken Draco three fire whiskies to confess everything to Theo, who sat stony-faced across from Draco in a dark corner of the pub as he spoke.

"She looked at me and said, 'I want you,'" Draco said, mournfully caressing the edge of his near-empty tumbler.

Theo sighed deeply. "Fuck. … Do you want to get back together?"

"It doesn't matter," Draco replied. He gazed at the amber liquid, tossing it around his glass, following the way the firelight flickered in its shallow depths. "She's going to marry Adrian."

Theo placed his glass on the wooden tabletop with a loud thud, jarring Draco from his reverie. "Enough," he said, glaring at Draco in a rare display of severity. "What you want matters."

Draco did not immediately reply, knowing that his instinctual protest would fall on deaf ears.

There had been a time when he believed he was destined for certain "great" things, that the Malfoy name would open doors and pave the way for him to do those things. But now, all he saw were the paths others had laid out for him, paths he had been too afraid or too weak to stray from.

As a child, there had been no question of who he would become. His father had made sure of that, molding him with harsh words and colder stares, shaping him into the perfect heir, the perfect pureblood. Every decision had been made for him—the friends he kept, the house he was sorted into, the values he was taught to hold above all else. There had been no room for doubt, no space for hesitation. He was a Malfoy, which meant certain things were expected of him.

Darkness, too, was expected of him.

The war had eventually ended, but the chains had not fallen away. They had taken on a different form—a quieter, more insidious one. Now, all Draco felt was the weight of expectations, the burden of trying to redeem a name that had been tainted beyond repair.

Marrying Astoria had been the last of a string of things expected of him. Oddly, the failure of their betrothal had been something Draco had done for himself—by accident and apathy, but it was still something he had caused in defiance of Lucius's wishes. Draco did not seek her out when she left, and that felt like a choice in the end.

Spending time with her again, knowing she was using him to escape a different expectation of marriage—Draco felt like he was retreating to the past.

He did not want to go back.

"No," Draco eventually replied. "I don't want to be with her."

Theo nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, to be honest."

Draco scoffed.

"You were shit together. You were shit to her," Theo continued. "You were shit."

Draco drained the last of his glass.

"Tell her to leave you alone," Theo suggested.

"I thought she would leave after the first night," Draco confessed, letting out some tension from his shoulders. "She just … stayed. I think Pucey is on a business trip."

"Well, first," said Theo, "Stop sleeping with her." Draco winced, and Theo continued, "Just tell her the truth. Don't try to embellish anything. Sneer once or twice—you know what. … Yes, just be yourself."

"I'm serious, Theo."

"So am I. There are two possibilities here. One—Astoria is using you. She's having a bit of horizontal fun at your expense before she gets married and becomes the perfect Pureblood wife to Pucey. Or two—Astoria is still using you. She knows she and Pucey are done for and wants to avoid the shame of a second highly publicized failed betrothal. Because if her betrothal to Pucey fails and she returns to you, Draco Malfoy, she can frame it as returning to her one true love." Theo sneered. "It's not your job to save her. You don't need to be cruel, but you can't keep indulging her if you want to escape this."

Draco listened to his friend and nodded glumly as the truth of his words sunk in. Astoria had been staying with him for a week, and not once had she asked how he was, what he did during the day, or even if he had been seeing someone. He hadn't, but it felt like Astoria had just slotted herself into his nights, assuming that Draco had no obligations other than her.

"You're right."

Theo nodded. "Good boy."

"Piss off," Draco retorted, folding his arms on the tabletop and resting his forehead down.

"Shan't," Theo's voice rang cheerfully.

Draco made the decision, coward that he was, to get Theo to stay out all night. He could tell Astoria that he couldn't see her anymore tomorrow.

Luckily, it seemed that Theo had a similar idea. "Shall we go to Dingleberry's Armpit and blast apart some dummies?"

"Okay."

And sometimes, all it took was a friend to get you drunk and drag you along to his underground private dueling club to put things into perspective.

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