The Laws Have Changed - Chapter 16
She gritted her teeth, her breath coming out in a soft hiss as she readied herself.
A Hufflepuff second year was frozen in place thanks to a body bind, their face set in a permanent state of distress as frustrated tears ran down their cheeks. She knew that many of the students would try to be brave in the face of torture, but it didn't change the fact that she was more prepared to take on the physical aspects of whatever curse was about to be lobbed at her.
She had taken worse spills as a kid, toughened up from a childhood spent with six older brothers; two of which had a habit of testing their pranks on unsuspecting family members. It also helped that many of the Slytherins in charge of punishing their peers were not on the same level as the Carrows. She could do this.
She locked eyes with Crabbe, her boyfriend's erstwhile lackey, and glared at him with every bit of hatred she could muster. The bumbling idiot was lucky that she wasn't allowed to use her wand. If they were in a true duel, he wouldn't last five seconds in the face of her wrath. She glanced over his shoulder, sending the same piercing stare to Amycus Carrow. The smug bastard only smirked, tapping his wand against the prone second year girl.
"Go ahead, Mr. Crabbe. It looks like Miss Weasley is more than happy to play hero." He waved his hand in her direction before switching his attention to the younger student. "Now look carefully, Miss Sims. This is what happens when you don't participate in class. You're very lucky we have someone here who is willing to properly show you how to cast the Cruciatus Curse."
When she had the attention of the older boy again, she wasn't surprised to see the feral blood-lust in his eyes. For once in his life, he was considered a star pupil; favored by the Carrows the way Draco was favored by Professor Snape. As he made a show of raising his wand, she was grateful that even though the curse now springing forth from his lips was purposeful with malicious intent, Draco made sure to let her know that his cronies were absolute shit spell-casters. Something wasn't always perfect in their wand-work or in how they pronounced incantations. She appreciated the insight as she knew that both Crabbe and Goyle were positively ecstatic to prove themselves to the Death Eaters roaming the school.
She almost smirked when she heard him drawl "Crucio" — his perpetual state of mush-mouth preventing him from pronouncing the curse as one syllable. She had never been given a reason to cast it herself, but even she knew how to say the damn spell.
But unlike her encounter with Alecto, Crabbe needed time to work up to the level of pain the Muggle Studies teacher had inflicted. It started off as a dull pain at her temples; the pressure causing her eyes to water as she tensed her jaw even further. The second instance felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of her as her knees finally gave out. She glared at him again through the tears pooling at her waterline. The hulking lump looked pleased with himself for finally getting the result he wanted, meaning his first attempt on her had been a warm-up; like he was using a muscle that had atrophied. She shuttered at the idea that his usage of the Cruciatus was simply something that he had forgotten.
She let out a wail at his third casting; her head falling back as she cried out, the pressure building in her jaw needing to be released lest she damage her teeth and bones. She heard Carrow's deep chuckle somewhere in the background, but the noise kept fading in and out as the curse was repeatedly thrown at her. She bent over, clutching her stomach as she tried gasping for air; fighting in vain against the coughs that interspersed her shuddering breaths. She knew her face was crimson from the effort and her eyes began bulging when her hacks turned into gags. She was grateful for the light dinner she'd had only a couple hours earlier — she was not interested in giving Crabbe or Carrow the sick pleasure of watching her vomit from the pain.
Time slipped away from her as she keeled further forward until her forehead touched the cool stone flooring below. The slight chill helped minimize her pain, sending a round of gooseflesh throughout her body as the sweat at her hairline and brow finally did its job. She could vaguely recognize that Crabbe was no longer shouting the curse and she only knew that Carrow had released the bind on poor Margaret Sims because she felt the hysterical girl wrap her up in a tight hug. The second year's tears soaked through the back of her uniform shirt; her thanks mixed in with profuse apologies for having been forced to endure the pain on her behalf.
As Margaret's weight was lifted off of her, she heard Luna's voice; tender and soothing, letting the Hufflepuff know that it wasn't her fault, that none of them should be expected to enjoy learning about or casting the Cruciatus Curse. Neville's hands were on her shortly after, gingerly bringing her to her feet before slinging an arm over his shoulder as he tried to steady her. She wanted to call out for Draco, wanted to tell her friend to bring her to her boyfriend's room because he'd know what to do, but she couldn't. She was already trying to keep her balance on the tightrope that was their relationship; it wouldn't do to pull yet another into their dangerous orbit.
So instead, she was hurried to the Room of Requirement, the other sixth and seventh years bustling about as they made potions and practiced their healing spells on other injured parties. She knew Luna would help her get to where she truly needed to be eventually, but for now, she was content to lay back on the cot they'd conjured for moments such as these.
When she came to, she was floating. Or, at least, she was partially floating. Her back was pressed against someone else's torso thanks to a hand splayed out on her stomach to keep her in place. But she felt warm and she could make out the pungent scent of medicinal herbs and Epsom salt. Whoever held her decided to kiss her temple, their hair falling against her forehead in fleeting wisps.
She opened her eyes with a groan, prompting who she assumed was Draco to place his other hand on her as he helped her sit up in his tub.
"Easy now, love," he murmured, keeping his body pressed against hers in an attempt to keep her from instinctively falling back. "Leave it to Crabbe to finally find the one thing he's actually good at."
She couldn't stop the raspy laughter that his comment elicited. "And leave it to you to try to make me laugh at a time like this."
"Who else is supposed to keep you sane as we traverse through hell? Luna?" She let him maneuver her until she was facing him, her bum in his lap as he let her head rest on his shoulder. "Blaise may fancy her, but she's nowhere near as funny as I am."
She snorted as he moved to lean them back again, her legs adjusting to wrap around his waist. "I'll have you know that," a deep, shaky breath, "Luna is excellent at keeping me calm during times of crisis. You'd only make me do something stupid." She collapsed entirely onto him, suddenly feeling the weight of her exhaustion once more.
"If it makes you feel any better, I've heard that being in love with someone generally renders them incapable of coherent thought."
"Is this your way of telling me that you'd also do something stupid for me?"
She smiled at the chuckles that jostled her chest. "Of course. You can't be the only one willing to in this relationship."
Her peaceful expression vanished when she felt his body slump as he sighed.
"I know this may not be the right time to mention this, Gin, but —"
"I know, Draco."
"I'll try my best to minimize the impact, but they're starting to wonder why I haven't been proactive as Head Boy."
Her brows furrowed as she took in his words. Part of her was overjoyed to hear that he had been taking steps to not get involved in punishing students during their detentions, but that emotion was quickly chased away by an impending sense of dread. Because if he was being monitored in such a way, it would eventually lead to the logical conclusion that was forced to the forefront of her mind.
"You can't show me any preferential treatment." She whispered the words, trying to hide the hot, angry tears that mixed with the bath water lingering on his skin. Screw stopping herself from crying. It felt like the only way to let out the frustration that continuously forced itself upon her.
His voice cracked as he replied. "I know, Gin." He squeezed her as hard as he could. "I hope it never comes to that, but I know."
"Maybe one day I'll have as much selflessness as you do."
They were in his bed, her body cradled against his; the familiar position their consistent default whenever they found themselves entwined underneath the comfort of his bed linens.
She was surprised by her immediate reaction — anger, bitterness, annoyance. Who was he to think that her selflessness came easy to her? Who was he to think of her acts as some kind of martyrdom and not a necessity begat by the actions of war. He ran a hand up and down her arm in that same light, fleeting touch that she favored so much, forcing her body to relax from the tension his statement seemed to bring. In the moments when she was quick to anger at Draco's words she had to remind herself that things that may seem obvious to her, may not always seem obvious to him.
That gentle reminder caused other thoughts to spring forth as though some kind of mental dam had been knocked down.
"Draco, do you think you could tell me about your life before Hogwarts?" She shifted and twisted until she was nose to nose with him.
He kept his face blank and she knew she had made a mistake somehow. The timing of the question was suspect, she realized, and she had to act quick before his eyes fully glazed over as he held back on emotions he promised to not regulate in front of her.
"I'm not asking because I'm trying to berate you." She brought her hand to his face, hoping her subsequent kiss was filled with enough love and trust to break through the precise catalog of his mind. "I'm asking because I want to understand you better. My selflessness doesn't always come easy and I want to understand why you think you may not already possess the capacity to use it yourself."
His hand twitched against her lower back, causing her to scoot down until she was under his chin. She buried herself there, inhaling the sweetness she had come to associate with him. It was only when that same hand found its home underneath her pajama top that she knew he was calm enough to continue. The feeling of his skin against hers felt like a brand, one that she would willingly take again and again for as long as he would let her. War had made her feel like close was never close enough; she would consume him if it would mean having him safe with her.
"A lot of people assume that I had a terrible childhood because my father is a Death Eater and my mother has pureblood supremacist tendencies." His voice was low, the timbre and pace almost reminding her of a lullaby. "But I had a lot of moments of normalcy that might surprise people."
She nodded, mindful of the fact that verbal reassurances wasn't what he needed whenever he had to get something off his chest. She supposed that's what he was doing — freeing himself of secrets and information that only a select few had previously been privy to. She'd absorb each one, becoming their new keeper as she treasured the insight they provided into her boyfriend's mind.
"My father was busy with legitimate businesses when I was growing up, so he wasn't quite as present as he probably would've liked. I'd see him for breakfast and dinner most days, but he kept much of his life hidden from me until I was old enough to understand what it was he truly did. My mother spoiled me in his absence. This was only compounded by the insistence my Malfoy grandparents had in getting me an au pair."
She couldn't help the snort that escaped her lips. Luckily, he must've figured her response to be rather typical of her and he snickered at her involuntary reaction.
"I know, I know; I'm terribly posh," he intoned with a smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I hated all the lessons Grandfather Abraxas forced me to take. My au pair was nice enough though. Her name was Amelie and she was handpicked by some French agency the Malfoys had been using for the past few generations. She was to instruct me in French since that's where the Malfoys had their heritage, but she also taught me Italian and German."
"Do you remember any of it?"
"I'm most confident in my French since my cousins there forced me to speak it as practice, but I'd probably need a refresher course in my Italian and German."
She adjusted herself again, pulling away from him as she wanted to see what he looked like as he described his childhood. Would he feel nostalgic the way she did? They were both, technically, still children, in a way; so would there even be anything for them to feel nostalgic towards?
She rested her head on top of a stack of pillows, making sure she was still facing him. "I'll have to see if Fleur considers your French to be up to snuff," she teased.
"Interestingly enough, I never did have the chance to speak with her during my fourth year. But I think I'd like to get to know your family without my father's influence."
She raised her eyebrows as a devious smile spread. "Even Ron?"
Draco grimaced, causing her to cackle. He looked like he was holding his nose at the mere suggestion, but she also knew he'd do it because of her. "Yes, even your brother that's off saving the world."
She kissed his nose to rid him of the odious expression. "Tell me more. What else is a Malfoy heir expected to learn?"
He turned onto his back and began ticking each thing off with his fingers. "Well, in addition to foreign languages, I had to learn basic maths and business as I would be expected to take over the family trading firm. Then there was ballroom dance because the upper classes of the wizarding world love any excuse to throw a ball. And since I learned how to dance, I also learned how to read music and play certain instruments; all of which I hated because I have no interest in them." He paused, his face contorting in realization. "Wait, I will say that I enjoyed learning how to play guitar and piano, but I stopped playing the minute I started Hogwarts, so I'm probably rubbish now."
"Oh, good," she breathed out, placing a hand on her chest. "I was afraid that I'd have to deal with a singing Valentine from you."
She squealed as he pulled her in, his hands immediately moving to her waist to tickle her. She breathlessly begged him to stop, crying out her apologies as she tried to squirm away from him. She only continued to laugh because he did and his laughter was always infectious to her. When he truly laughed it was boisterous; coming from some place deep inside that was carefree and unburdened by the anxieties he'd grown to have. She'd be content to listen to it all day if given the chance.
"As if I'd deign to gift you one of those annoying monstrosities," he said as they calmed down. "I'd much rather take you some place where we wouldn't be disturbed."
She couldn't help her gasp as he rolled them so she straddled him. His cheeks were flushed from the effort, but maybe he was also as flushed as she was due to the implication of his last statement. She rested her hands on his chest, trying to ignore the warmth slowly gathering just below her belly button.
He lifted an arm, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before letting his hand trail down her neck and in between her breasts. His eyes roamed across her body; greedy and thorough in his inspection. The trail of his hand ended on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. His voice was thick, sounding like his mouth had been stuffed with cotton as he spoke. "One day, when this entire mess is over, I want us to go somewhere where I know I'll have the time to worship you in the way you deserve."
Her breath hitched at the implication and the warmth now resonating in her, crashing against her body without care, was only amplified. She wanted him, fiercely, but she agreed with his sentiments. Things were a mess and as much as she wanted to take things to the next level with him, she didn't know if she had the emotional and mental capacity to handle what sex would be like with him. In many ways, she knew she was still an insecure sixteen year old. It was easy to hide those insecurities when you had a war to distract you, but she didn't want those doubts and hindrances to force their way to the front of her mind when there were more important things to worry about.
Her own saliva felt syrupy as she swallowed, noting how his eyes flitted down to her throat. She needed to change the subject.
"Did you have friends before Hogwarts?"
She tried to move, but he held her in place, instead lifting himself up so she could adjust to simply rest his lap. His grasp moved to her waist, allowing him to position her for a hug, while his hand made its way up her shirt again only to go back to its previous spot on her lower back. It was probably her favorite way to be tangled up with him the more she thought about it.
"I did," he finally replied, placing a brief kiss below her right ear. It was a promise, she told herself. A promise that she would get lost in how right everything felt when his lips met hers. When his warmth met hers. When nothing else mattered but these shared moments. It was a promise that he would kiss her properly when their conversation was over.
"Blaise and Pansy?"
"Among others. Our families were fond of having us go on summer retreats."
A giggle sputtered out of her. "You mean summer camp?" She'd heard about the concept from Hermione. Her parents were well off enough that they'd gone the extra mile and sent their daughter to one alongside her cousins in America two summers before she first attended Hogwarts.
"If horseback riding, swimming, and being a general nuisance to those supervising us on the Greengrass estate counts as summer camp, then yes; I suppose I did." Her giggles continued as he looked like he was irritated to have his assuredly luxurious summers considered to be on par with what had to be a distinctly Muggle concept.
After a moment, she glanced up at him, noting how his eyes still held his fondness for her, even though he was fighting a losing battle to not smile at her comments. "I'm happy to hear that you had other kids around you growing up. I don't know what I would've done with myself if I was an only child."
He shrugged, as if to say that there was no solution to what she perceived to be a problem. "It has its benefits. I never had to share." A cheeky grin finally appeared as she rolled her eyes. "And knowing my classmates from an early age meant that I didn't have to worry much about making friends once I got here. We all kind of grew up together."
"Do you think you'd still be friends with any of them once all of this is over?"
A single brow quirked, furrowing as he took the time to think about something that she realized he probably never considered until she asked. She knew where his and Blaise's allegiances lied, but she wasn't exactly sure even he knew what some of his Housemates wanted once the dust had settled. If there was one thing she learned from dating her boyfriend, it was that a majority of Slytherins were loathe to show any kind of true emotion. Everything was meant to be a carefully crafted facade. Outbursts, displays of affection, sorrow — these were all things that could be used against them, so they quickly learned to never give those around them the ammunition they might've needed to inflict harm. It was a pre-emptive form of harm reduction and, during a time of war, she had to respect that kind of foresight.
"I'd like to. They're the only people who understand what it's like to be raised the way we have. I don't know how society will perceive us and our various roles in this war, but I hope I don't end up spending my life in prison." His voice grew soft as he almost whispered the last few words, a knot forming in her stomach at the reality she was trying to ignore.
She knew words were useless at this point. No amount of reassurance could provide him the kind of mental calm she wanted him to achieve. Everything about their future was uncertain. And no matter how many times she wanted to believe that he could possibly walk away from this war unscathed, she knew he already had enough scars to show that it would be impossible.
So, instead, she held onto him like she had done many times previous and would continue to do until time and circumstance no longer allowed it. As long as she held him, she could pretend that their love was free from the shackles that bound them.
Thank you for reading! I also wanted to thank everyone who helped me get to over 30 subs on this lil story of mine! I don't really expect much since I pretty much only write rare pairs, so it's been exciting seeing how many of y'all are going on this journey with me
I have up to ch 19 completed now, so I should be able to post at least once a week provided I stay inspired. I might take another break once I finish a specific bit of plotting, but we'll see.
Thank you again!