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Chapter Text

Draco's leg bounced up and down as he rubbed sweaty hands on his pant legs. He felt his lip quiver from the abuse it previously served, tooth marks were still visible on the pink and swollen flesh to the observative eye.

His dull eyes traced over the tattered edge of the elongated cocobolo table. The black marble that stenciled the middle rim was equally as glossed as the dark wood that surrounded it. The wide hearth of the fireplace was sending wave after wave of warmth into the air that circled Draco, exacerbating his already overheated and perspiring body.

His mother was in the kitchen assisting the elves as they prepared dinner. This was quickly becoming a common occurrence in the manor despite it only happening when things got tense between Draco and Narcissa, but that, too, was quickly becoming a common occurrence in the manor. Not only did the previous argument they had aided in Narcissa's evasion of her son, but the lack of entertainment caused by the absence of magic made her interest in muggle cooking spike, even if elves had their magic and didn't necessarily need her assistance. It wasn't as if there were restrictions on their magic, however, both parties found the idea far too terrifying to try for reasons of laissez-faire or entertainment. Draco felt his uneven, bitten nails as he ran them on the soft flesh of his finger pads. A thin scratch was located down the palm of his right hand, the narrow scrape reminded Draco strongly of a cat scratch.

The thought lingered in Draco's mind as he recalled his childhood dream of having a pet. The loyal long-haired lurcher's Lucius owned never quite counted, did they? Draco could recall a time which Ryder bit his cheek. The scraggly looking dog growled and growled while a young Draco shifted closer and closer. In retrospect, Draco probably should have taken the dog's growling and barking as a sign to shove off, but he was only a child. How was he supposed to know? His memory was hazy and had major gaps, but Draco distinctly remembers the dog backing away and baring its pearly whites. Ryder was steadily warning young Draco as he approached until the beast decided he had been patient long enough and jumped at Draco's cheek. The stained teeth of the dog broke a few layers of skin on the 4-year-olds cheek before his mother came in and hit the dog on his bum.

Draco was cradled in his mother's arms that night as Lucius tied Ryder to a pillar on the back porch. His companion, Preston, stayed next to him all night despite the lack of tether. After his cheek was tended to, his mother thoroughly babied him. Lucius entered the room and scolded Draco for provoking the dogs, accusing him of the whole incident. And after a loud and vicious back and forth with Lucius, Draco very clearly remembers Narcissa announcing that her husband was to sleep on the couch that night.

Draco's small, bare feet padded into the manor's large living room that night. A long, thick blanket dragged behind Draco as he crept around the dark house. The blanket was handcrafted and expansive, it showed a map of the stary night sky with dotted lines connecting all constellations visible on it. The silk-like fuzz was tugged across the cold wooden floor as Draco bundled a little ball of the sheet in his fists. He searched around the overly large and dark living room in search of his father. Once he spotted Lucius' long hair falling off the edge of the black couch, Draco waddled over in sleepy gait to grasp the fabric of his father's silk nightshirt. Lucius sturred as he turned his head towards his son.

"Draco, what are you doing up? It's late, you should be asleep." His father's manicured hands lifted Draco onto the couch and on top of his stomach.

"Father, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get in trouble!" Draco peeped in a worried whisper. His father's cold, gray eyes soften showing the sparse hints of gentle green in his eyes. However, Draco's worried expression didn't leave his features.

"It's quite alright... Have I shown you your constellation?"

"Only a thousand times, father." Lucius grinned at his son's remark.

"Would you like to see it once more?"

"Of course."

Lucius gently wrapped Draco in his starry blanket as he sat up. They traveled out to the porch with Draco sitting on his father's hipbone. Lucius led them down the stairs of their manor and planted his feet while gazing up at the dark sky. Draco scoped the tall hedges of their front lawn before joining his father's upward look. They stayed outside for another 30 minutes, tracing the sky with their index fingers and sharing imaginative thoughts. Draco remembers his father saying that the Sagittarius was his favorite constellation, after the Draco, of course.

Draco traced the long divet on his palm with his index finger. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was pink and stung to the touch. Must have been recent although Draco couldn't quite recall how he'd gotten it.

His attention was ripped from his hand and toward the door that led into the dining room from the west hall. Two house-elves entered with Narcissa trailing behind them. They carried two divine looking dishes on big silver platters; one held two complex glasses while the other held a regal jug filled with blood-red wine. The fresh-looking red stain on the elves 'shirt' confirmed that.

Draco quickly stood and almost sprinted over to the elf holding the jug. Draco gently took the vase and gingerly placed it on the dark dining table. Turning around he took out a handkerchief that he dabbled into the water cups already sitting on the table and, as gracefully as he could, dropped to his knees. Draco lightly grabbed the fabric and scrubbed vigorously at the stain. There was a waterfall of protests from the elf, who Draco believes is named Lintflick, but no physical action to stop him. Draco's knees hurt and he could tell they were going to deeply bruise, but at least the stain was significantly reduced compared to how it was when he first laid eyes on it.

He sat at the very end of the table with his mother on his left, her eyes every fixed upon the roaring fire with a decorative fork situated limply between her fingers. Her elegant long dress was a deep shade of green that could've easily been mistaken for black, the pin-like-pendant that gathered the layering cloth was a shiny silver that displayed the Malfoy crest. The image once filled a foolhardy Draco with such pride, but now all it brought him was a stinging reminder that life will never be the way it once was. He will never run under tables hiding from his parents, he will never tug on the bottom of his mothers dress and beg for her to play games in the back yard, he will never have music lessons with Lucius as his mother sat on the piano bench watching, he will never sneak out and trace constellations in the night sky as his father told him ridiculous stories of outlandish things. He will never have any of that back.

Draco released a shaky breath before facing his mother again.

"Mother, you've barely touched your food?"

Narcissa merely shifted her head to the side before it moved back, her eyes never leaving the flame. Draco let gravity pull his head down to gaze at his dish. He poked the cooked meat that he hadn't touched. The delicate leaves of parsley rested on top of the roasted steak while the potatoes bathed in a thin layer gravy. The remaining portions of his plate were filled with an assortment of vegetables that all smelled heavily seasoned, but not unappetizing.

"Are you thinking about father again?" This caught Narcissa's attention.

Her eyes dilated as she shifted her head and gazed at her son, her eyes seemed to pierce right through him. Her silence was all the answer Draco needed. He still remembered that day as if it were yesterday.

The yellow-tinted envelope was only the beginning of their misfortune. As ordered, they came to court the following day, dressing in their finest robes. They received glares and sneers as they navigated through the ministries halls, and Draco found it surprising how many students he recognized, but their eyes told him that they knew he would be here. Almost like they were waiting for him. It wasn't anything crazy, no one he talked to or actively associated with. Just faces passing by that he knew he'd passed before. His nerves didn't flutter until they came closer to their desired location, but it wasn't from the anticipation of the undeniable events ahead. It was from a pair of green eyes framed in a thin black wire of glasses. Draco shook his head as he searched for their own. Surely it wasn't... was it?

He felt his leg muscles tense until they completely froze as he gazed upon the crowd. Clumps stopped and stared back, their skin morphed together to form one giant glob monster made of flesh and eyes. The building seemed to only carry the sound of radio silence, the air conditioning completely disoriented Draco. He stood in the crowded corridor, people pushing against his shoulders and shoes scuffing created a deafening screech, staring.

Draco felt his mouth open only for his throat to clench and mouth to run dry. He felt like someone had stuffed his mouth with cotton wads and toasted his vocal cords. The back of his neck radiated with a burning sensation as his hands began to twitch, teeth nibbling on the insides on his cheeks. His eyes shook which was quite a strange sensation. A gentle tug on his hand was all it took for Draco to remember how legs worked. He followed after his mother, watching as her perfectly arranged hair bounced slightly as she walked, mirroring the way the extra layers of her dress swayed. And the rest was history.

His dad was sent to a new institutional program called the I.M.U.C.W.W. Otherwise known as the Informative Molding Unit for Conflicting Witches and Wizards. Or should they say unknown? With the ministry refusing to disclose information to the public about the contained ex-death eater's it was hard to say what was a theory and what was a fact. Of course, the Malfoy's knew. They had to, it wasn't like the had a choice in the matter.

In a weird, twisted sense Draco could see how the eyes of the public only saw proper justice being served, but as all who experience fears as he did Draco doesn't think that at all. He thinks the justice system is more flawed than they let off to be. He is sure that the ministry is aware of how he is abhorred by many, especially the lot from school. No doubt him working for the Dark Lord was only icing on the cake for his perfectly amicable personality. He is sure that half of their decision to send him back to school was anticipation to see him crash and burn in a heap of shit. No ounce of doubt in his mind.

Packing his trunk for Hogwarts was quite a weird feeling. The soft fibers of the leather brushed against his finger pads as he smoothed out the top, still, prioritization neatness in his everyday life was at least one constant they couldn't take from him. Finding out that you've been folding shirts wrong your entire life wasn't something Draco expected to learn but found himself going the extra mile to allow for more storage. The gold buckling showed it's age with a myriad of scratches covering the precious metal. His irises held the reflection of the shining metal in his eyes, making it appear like a golden sunrise above a clear, stormy sea.

The train ride to Hogwarts consisted of many empty compartments, a couple of panic attacks, and one too many chocolate frogs for Draco's stomach to handle. The steady thumping of the wheels was what Draco choose to focus on as he vaguely recognized the shuffling of feet in the train's corridor. Warning sirens disguised as familiar voices bounced down the hall ad slipped under his door, worming their way into his ears. He watched as some younger looking students ran past his room, but nothing could've prepared him for the mop of ginger hair on a tall figure that passed by. Unaccompanied was not how Draco originally planned to see Ronald, but in all his lonesome glory the redhead awkwardly turned and slip open the door. Draco's heart picked up speed as if he were running a marathon.

Is this what a heart attack was like? Is that what was happening? A heart attack?

Just as Draco shifted his hand to pinch himself did Ronald sit down, directly across from him no less. Which was odd. Sure this whole situation was puzzling, but sitting in front of him? Draco wasn't even near the window. He was sitting directly next to the door, finding more calm in the red felt carpet that lined the hall. Draco stole a glance to find blue eyes already watching him, tracking his face like a hunter watching his prey.

Ronald shuffled in the bushes he was hiding in, his gun barrel pointed directly at the Draco-deer. The hunter sniffed before letting a slight cough slip, the deer's leg twitch as it's big eyes glanced at the shrubbery. Its innocent face in a questioning glance before looking back down at its hooves. The hunter, as carefully as he could, placed his finger around the trigger and pulled. The bullet traveled at ridiculously high speeds, but at that moment it felt a hundred years slow. The tiny piece of metal came close to the creature's delicate structure before penetrating the skin.

"Why don't birds in cages sing?" The ginger's British accent poorly articulated the sentence, allowing for most of the words to slur together in a lousy way.

"Par-" Draco underused voice broke before he could finish. After a gentle cough into his elbow, he repeated "Pardon?"

"Why don't birds in cages sing?"

Draco furrowed his brows and glanced down the halls. His eyes seeking out a girl with frizzy hair or a boy with evergreen eyes, but neither were found. He turned back to the man in front of him, the other eyes never leaving Draco's no matter how many times Draco diverted his own. The slight sounds of magic could be heard from surrounding rooms, but none were close. The forests visible from the window seemed to blur into one lump of green at the patter of rain begin to hit on the glass.

Ronald laid down on his seats showing he didn't expect an answer. Draco shortly repeated the action, his head by the window so he could watch as the glass fill with clear dots. Ronald's head by the door allowed Draco to see his long legs fold in an uncomfortable-looking position on the seats.

As Draco averted his eyes back to the gloomy skies, he thought.

Why don't birds in cages sing?

Chapter Text

Trying to navigate the rubble and ruins of an old school filled to the brim with students and professors who don't like you is a challenge in itself, and Draco wasn't sure he could handle it anymore.

It had been about a week since they all arrived at Hogwarts, the limited attendance wasn't surprising but it had been significantly less than anyone imagined. The pathetically deranged remains of the once magnificent castle were almost embarrassing. A soul-chilling breeze often blew outside and with most walls torn down, it was easy for the chill to make its way into the classrooms and halls. The unfriendly weather must have sparked the interest of the creatures residing in the Black Lake for every day you could hear the cascading choir of the sirens songs and the moans of the giant squid. Granted most where a gurgled mess of noise, but it is known that sound travels fastest underwater. Draco often watched the flocks of birds migrate and pondered what their songs meant. If they were in cages, would they still sing or would they lay down their joyous tunes and turn into the silent ball of feathers Draco passed in rooms and halls. Watching and mocking others with their sparse chirps, flapping for attention but nothing more?

A blood-red bird greater than natural size flew into the misty white and grey that made up the September skies, disappearing only to dive down and splash the surface of the lake. The feat caused droplets to fly into the air on their agenda, imitating their guest before returning to the larger body. Draco's back was resting on the harsh bark of a prodigious tree, it's origin untrackable and species unidentifiable but Draco could feel magic pulsate through the trunk and the roots that weaved and wound across and beneath the ground. While the wood of the tree was a very dark shade when the sun hit at a certain time of day Draco could swear the organism seemed to glow a mystical shade of gold. The leaves were already a phantom of blue but with autumn rapidly approaching the leaves mixed with all shades of a summer sunset. As if mother nature were trying her attempts at watercolor. Tiny white mushrooms littered the base of the grand tree. The steam and cap were both colored a beautiful cream and had a sprinkle of black dots all askew, the gills seemed to glow an enchanting purple while petit rodents gather and feed off the seemingly harmless shrooms.

The edge of the lake was a location Draco found himself frequenting often, it's tranquility soothed his scrambled mind and the magic that seemed to radiate from the spot remedied his abused body. Glancing back at the school, skyline painted in various shades due to the setting sun was like looking back at an angel in disguise. Haunting memories leaped at him from every corner and yet the establishment still never ceased to take his breath away.

The first week was always a mess of scheduling and locating classes, but in the later years, a student could easily find their desired destination. However with multiple walls dedicated and the ceiling and floors caved in creating large holes in the middle, most classes were relocated to other rooms, halls, and even the fields. While Draco still felt a sense of guilt when he was around Hagrid's little hut, he couldn't deny it was nice to be near nature. Crisp air hit the back of his neck and invigorated him with a new sense of peace.

A muffled voice distressed from Draco's right, his ear popped as he strained to listen before turning to find who spoke out. Luna Lovegood was sitting a handful of meters away from Draco. Sitting was a pleasant term for someone whose legs was cruelly being tugged into the water by a Grindylow, it's slippery tentacle was tightly wrapped around her leg soaking her stockings with the water on its appendage.

Draco swiftly rose from his spot and rushed over. He hurriedly took his wand and quickly pointed it towards the creature. A white flash emitted from the tip and shot at the Grindylow, a shriek could be heard as a large red and bubbling sting appeared on its the body. It released Luna in a second before sinking into the comfort of the lake.

"Oh my. Why thank you, Draco."

"Luna, are you alright?" Draco plopped down beside her, his pants no doubt getting damp from the water that coated the grass in a puddle.

"I'm quite fine. He was quite friendly at first, but he suddenly got hungry and I was the closest thing to him. Supposed it's all my fault."

A frown wormed its way onto Draco's features, "I don't think that at all. Grindylows are known to be evil and untrustworthy. Supposed people view them the same as they view me?"

"Oh, Draco. I don't think of you that way at all." Her tenderness was something Draco didn't deserve, he knew that, but he feared if he refuted her claims she would turn upset.

"Thank you, but the rest of Hogwarts seems to beg to differ." Luna tucked a lock of her drying hair behind her ear as she turned to Draco.

"Well let them differ. it's not like most of them were there anyhow. The stories people tell, they aren't true. Well, most of them anyway. I can't help but overhear them wherever I go and I think to myself 'No they just have that all wrong, don't they?' But I'm told not to speak up about it, so I don't." Her whispy inflections made the normally upsetting information wash over Draco in a form that made him feel calm, despite just being told Luna hears people spread fake news. Fake news involving him and the war.

"Reckon we ought to head back now? The sun is quite nearly gone." Luna asked, although she already began standing and strolling over to the castle. Draco quickly trailed behind, sooner or later matching her speed and walking in time next to her. Albeit the cold preserved most of her hair to wet strands, a surprising amount had dried by the cool wind that fluttered passed.

Inside Hogwarts was practically no different than outside, the chill followed them down the halls and so did the natural view. The only difference is the soft glow of the torches, lanterns, and other lights that lined the hallways and ceiling. Chaos from the classroom mayhem left a rather strange diner schedule. Instead of the designated time to come and feast, it was more of an elongated time slot where you would come and go. it was available a lot later than before, which in some cases proved to be quite convenient.

Luna turned into the Great Hall, her heels clicking as she searched for a secluded spot. Draco wasn't sure if it was for her sake or his own, but he was thankful either way. As they sat at the edge of the Slytherin table, dishing out their plates and lazily poking their food, a few more figures entered the space. Draco only looked up due to the flash of raven hair that caught his eye.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Harry since he came back, for heaven sakes he had a few classes with the bastard, but that didn't mean his stomach didn't clench every time he caught a glimpse of the boy savior. Boy. Aren't they all adults now? For some reason, it was hard to call any of the men or women.

"Staring is considered rude to many people, Draco." Luna's soft voice carried his head over to her. Silvery blue eyes held onto Draco's as he processed her words.

"Only to some, I supposed. Besides, gazing is not staring." His eyes returned to their original muse. Watching as he sat down, surrounded by a group. The smile lines that appeared when he smiled gathered by the eyes and two soft dimples could be seen. Suddenly green snapped up to meet blue, and those sweet dimples disappeared into a cracked-mouth stare before Draco drifted his eyes back to his plate.

"You've been staring at each other all week. I thought the animosity between you both had gone?" Draco noticed Luna's headband had a small rip in the side, he has to remember to tell her later.

"It has. Anyway, it's just staring, it's not like I'm threatening him or anything."

"Well alright."

Luna turned to look behind her as Draco kept his gaze down, moving his food around his plate. Harry's eyes were narrowed and pointedly staring directly at Draco. There was no frown on his face, but he didn't look content either. Merely neutral.

Luna turned back over to her dish and took a spoonful of peas, "Well, I think you two should talk."

Draco's hand reaching for the gravy jerked at the statement and knocked over his goblet. The juice only spilled slightly before it was righted again, Draco cleaning the mess with a wiping textile.

"I beg your pardon?" A bewildered Draco questioned, just about finished with the mess.

"I do. After, how many years has it been? Eight? After eight years of bad blood, someone should think you two should sort things out." Luna did have a good point. Bury the hatchet and all that.

"Suppose that's a logical idea..." Draco dragged on. His eyes flickered up once more meeting Harry's steady gazed before he dropped his fork and excused himself.

{--}

The returning seventh years, or rather eighth years, had been given spacious living quarters. With attendance mainly lacking in the eighth year, they were gifted large spaces and private rooms, or at least the Slytherins were. Draco couldn't say what for what of the other houses, but he could only assume it was the same. Although he heard that some houses that had a bigger population, no doubt the Gryffindors, were still forced to share rooms but with a small group. He reckoned Harry and Ron were most likely roommates. Why wouldn't they be? They had always been inseparable. However, as of late Draco has seen Hermione and Ron together leaving one Harry Potter alone. Well, when his crowds of adorers weren't at his heels, that is.

Rumors have been drifting through the air, he knew. Not only from Luna telling him but because he has heard them. Not the ones about him, but many about Harry.

He wakes up screaming almost every night. Yells and tosses in his sleep. Seems like a lot to handle. Draco couldn't imagine how he'd even go to bed at night knowing that you'd just wake up by a nightmare.

An especially chilling breeze drifted in through the cracks of the stones and tossed about some loose papers on Draco's desk, scattering a couple onto the stone floor. With a huff, he rose from his chair and collected the sheets. Neatly stacking them and putting them back onto the pile, this time with a paperweight on top.

After finishing some assignments, Draco wandered the halls a bit. Professors were often swamped with work and didn't monitor the halls as strictly as they once did. Not that it matters, it wasn't curfew yet. The soft, warm glow of the candlelight urged Draco on as he walked to nowhere imparticular. Down some stairs and around some corners.

Draco walked for a good half hour and only saw three other students roaming around. Now with his gaze down, he let his feet take him where they wanted. He would close his eyes, for the most part, only opening them when he felt as if he was going to walk into a wall.

Draco traveled on nonchalantly before colliding with something. Or rather, someone.

Draco was forced to take a few steps back until he completely lost his balance and fell on his bottom. A snort could be heard above him.

"Watch were you're going." Draco spat, looking up to find.

Harry bloody Potter.

"Sorry, Draco. It was an accident."

"Yeah? And just what are you doing wandering around bumping into people?" Harry awkwardly extended a hand, only for it to go ignored. Draco pushed himself off the ground and wiped his hands on his shirt a few times.

"Oh, you know. Just... walking."

Draco supposed he sort of knew what Harry was getting at. "Where is that posse of yours?"

A light blush of embarrassment crept onto Harry's features as he instinctively scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh...I don't know. But I'm glad, I hate when they are always asking for an autograph or pointers." Harry followed Draco as he began walking down the hallway again, their feet walking rhythmically. Draco raised a brow before mocking a laugh.

"I meant your two friends. Don't be so full of yourself."

"Well, I reckon they ought to be snogging in the library by now. And I'm not full of myself."

Draco nudged Harry's side with his shoulder, "Sure you aren't."

An innocent smile found it's way to the two boys' faces as they continued walking. It was a strangely calm encounter. They walked for a good few minutes not talking to one another. What was there to say? Oh, so much to say, but how?

The pair passed a couple of students who just stared at them or pretended what they were seeing wasn't true. Draco couldn't blame them. He could hardly believe it was happening either.

"Draco?"

"Are we on a first-name basis now?"

Harry halted in his walk, showing his seriousness. Draco stopped as well, turning to face Harry.

"Harry?"

"Are you okay?"

Draco was slightly taken aback. "Pardon?"

"I mean, are you doing alright? Like, you're fine and everything?" A concerned look was painted on Harry's features.

"Well, I suppose so. Why?"

Harry began walking again, passing Draco right before they joined side by side. "No reason..."

Draco nodded as they fell into an uncomfortable silence. The solace from their previous quietude now gone, replaced with an uneasy feeling. Draco's mind tended to wander when left unamused.

He gazed back down at the thin scratch on his palm, before closing his hand into a fist and letting it drop to his sides.

"Why don't birds in cages sing?"

Harry looked down at Draco, eyebrow raised. Electrifying green eyes staring in question. When he got none he turned his head back forward.

They rounded a corner.

Harry scratched his eyebrow. "I don't know. Maybe they aren't happy?" Draco huffed a dry laugh before shaking his head lightly. "Perhaps."

The two walked on for a while until their legs felt like weights, pulling them to a tired state. Sugary-sweet 'good-bye's' were exchanged as the two parted ways, heading to their rooms.

"Perhaps."

Draco changed into his nightshirt and pants before tucking himself under cool sheets. The memory of rudimentary fundamental civil conversations repeating in his head as he slowly fell asleep.

With such a sweet ending to the day, how could there be anything bad in the future?

Chapter Text

Waking up to find a steady stream of snow dancing into your room would put anyone at odds. However, Draco was more shocked to find that it wasn't a prank but rather a hole in his living quarters. The snowy wind from the outdoors chilled Draco as his bare feet padded over to his desk in search of his wand, hoping that he could remedy the situation. Draco inspected the opening in the corner of his ceiling, standing on the chair get dragged over to get a better view. A makeshift owl's nest was in a small alcove along the walls. Unsteady stone bricks rocked next to it, threatening to fall and crush the innocent scene. Draco saw two baby Eagle owls huddled together on the other side of the nest, resting while they waited for their mother. Draco looked out into the winter scape searching for the mother, but he couldn't see past a meter into the ghostly weather.

Despite not paying much attention in Care of Magical Creatures any damn fool knew not to move a nest, especially if the babies were in it, and Draco wasn't a damn fool. So how come he always acted like one?

Draco gingerly grasped the nest before bringing it into the warmth of his room. Well, the warmer warmth of his room. He placed the nest into a free cubby that was part of his desk, trying to replicate a tree's hollow nook. The two owlets awoke and expectedly started crying. They were waiting for food, after all. The change of scenery must've not only been a disappointment but quite a shock. Draco huffed as he trudged back over to his bed and face-planted into the soft sheets. It was Saturday, after all, and being awoken by snow and crying baby birds wasn't on his list of things to do.

He spoke with Luna and Harry almost a month ago by now and he hasn't interacted with much anyone since then. He did call his mother over the fire a handful of times in the common room, their conversations were short and very distant. She would often be staring at something out her window and forget Draco was talking. She would repeat herself and seemed very dazed most of the time. It unsettled Draco, his mother was never much of a daydreamer but as of late she has grown farther and farther away from life, becoming disconnected to reality. It saddened Draco to see her this way, but he knew there wasn't much he could do to help.

He had also received a letter from his father, albeit a very whiny letter but he was still delightful to hear from him. Apparently the cooks there did not give a rat's ass about the food they prepared. Lucius had written about a particularly undercooked pastry that had him throwing up once. Although his father generally talked about himself, he did ask Draco a few questions. He even wrote that he expected a letter in return. Draco smiled fondly at that, he couldn't recall any other time his father wrote to him first much less asking Draco to write him back. The thick ring his father had gifted him was snuggly wrapped around the ring finger of his right hand.

Draco rolled onto his back and swung his legs forward, urging his body to follow. As he was standing a loud screeching noise came from behind him. A large mother owl was sitting where the owl nest once was, she was flapping her wings and turning her head around, freezing when she saw Draco.

"Oh, n-no! Wait, your babies are right-!" The owl shrieked once more as shy flapped her wings more, created a gust that blew over Draco's face. The Eagle-owl stood at an intimidating two feet, her wingspan had to be five or six feet long. She darted over to Draco in a second, her talons long and sharp. Her wings spread out wide as she came closer.

"SHIT!" Draco covered his face with his forearm. Her talons dug like daggers into his flesh, ripping it off like it hadn't even been attached in the first place. Draco dug into his pocket, searching for his wand, and charmed himself a shield. He considered himself decent at the charm in comparison to many others, but he knew he could do better. However, he didn't think he'd practice with an owl. The said creature was coming back in for another hit only to bounce back, the shield wobbled and a ripple of white flowed around the abused area before turning invisible once again. Draco sucked air through his teeth as the sting of his fresh wound finally hit.

He ran over to the owlets, showing the mother that her children were alright before bursting out of his room. Running to reach the bathroom down the hall. Droplets of blood lead like bread crumbs in his wake. He washed the cuts beneath a steady stream of water supplied by the faucet, it stung the freshly torn skin. A few grunts made their way out of Draco's mouth as he retracted his arm, patting it down with a nearby towel. The torn skin seemed to be stained a permanent red, perhaps there was blood stuck beneath layers of skin. An ugly, splotchy display of first and tiny peddles littered his cut, Draco presumed the gunk was from under the owl's talons. As Draco moved to grab his wand, he felt a few strings of blood drip down in lines on his arm.

A gentle sigh passed his lips as another chilled breeze washed over him. The cold kept coming in waves, like a frozen sea repeatedly crashing over and over on top of him.

After Draco came back to the room, he found the owls sleeping in his cubby. New sticks and dead leaves had been gathered there, but Draco didn't dare to go near it, not even for inspection. The mother woke as soon as Draco neared his bed, her soft hoot was the only thing that told him this. He glanced over to find her big amber eyes staring at him. She ruffled her feathers before climbing out of the cubby, flying over to the edge of Draco's bed once she could. Draco tried to muster up his rage toward her but found himself incapable of doing so.

The mother flapped her wings a few times and hooted twice as if she was trying to communicate with Draco.

"Sorry, I don't speak owl."

Draco could hear the bite in his words, but they both knew there was no real malice behind them. Draco huffed for the millionth time that morning and laid down next to the bird.

"Suppose I forgive you." A delighted noise emitted from the bird as it walked over to Draco's stomach, climbing on top and hunkering down. The ghost of a chuckled was all Draco gave as he began to pet her head with his pinkie.

"Are you no longer mad now that you saw I didn't kidnap your kids?" The mother shivered slightly as an answer and Draco found himself suddenly very tired. "Merlin, what time is it?" He felt his eyes wobble before the room dimmed, the breeze now soothing to his overheated skin as the soft feathers coaxed him into a dreary state, leaving him no choice but to fall back asleep.

{—}

Draco jolted awake, a burning sensation on his right, the owl on his stomach startled as well. A questioning hoot left her beak as Draco groaned, his eyes looking over to his right. A thin puddle of blood laid around his right arm. Suddenly out of his blurry haze, Draco got out of bed and stumbled to the door, the Eagle owl was flapping her wings in place as she booted repeatedly. Draco swung the door open and clumsily jogged his way out of the Slytherin dormitories in search of Madam Pomfrey. The mother owl must've been worried because Draco could hear her flapping wings behind him as he ran.

"Whooo,"

"Take a look at my arm! You tell me what you'd do if you woke up and your wing was ripped up!" Draco yelled back, he stumbled over his words in his haste. The pair passed a couple of students in the halls as they dodged walls, rounded corners, and climbed stairs.

Taking longer than Draco liked, he arrived at the infirmary. The familiar feeling of nausea and dizziness no doubt from the blood loss presented itself as he pushed open the doors; breathing heavily and stepping hard.

The startled nurse turned towards the bloodied student and his owl tag-a-long before quickly walking over. She'd been talking to someone before, but Draco didn't see who it was. Guessing by the long robe they wore, he guessed a student.

Madam Pomfrey helped Draco to a bed where he sat down, the mother owl wrapped her talons around the metal railing by the far side.

"Oh my, what happened!" Pomfrey's aged voice squeaked ask she started walking over to get her wand from another table. As she passed, the mystery student was revealed.

A messily dressed, puffy-eyed, Harry Potter stood there. Wand in grapes as Draco studied him in confusion. His clothes looked wrinkled and mishandled, his tie was thrown around his neck like a scarf and his robe was off one shoulder. His glasses sat askew in his face, but he must've seen clearly because immediately after Harry saw Draco he rushed over.

"Draco!" Harry looked down, "The bloody hell happened to your arm? Ugh, I knew something would happen!" Harry continued cursing u see his breath as he picked up Draco's arm, examining the damaged skin. A screech from the owl made Harry let go of Draco's arm which fell limply onto the bed with a soft thud.

"Ow! Merlin, Potter!"

"Sorry! V-very sorry!"

Draco rolled his eyes as he watched Madam Pomfrey come back, her heels clicking on the cold stone. A thought drifting into Draco's head, "Wait, what the hell do you me you knew something like this would happen?"

Harry stilled, the only noise came from Madam Pomfrey worried muttering and potion bottles clanking. The air felt stale as Draco searched green eyes for...anything. "I keep having...dreams. About you."

"Dreams? About me? Well, Potter, that sounds like a you problem, doesn't it." Draco spat through wincing as Pomfrey poured some goopy liquid on his arm. It slithered down at a snail's pace leaving behind a very pigmented trail.

"Doesn't matter. I was right, what happened!" Harry demanded in his typical manner.

"Looks like animal markings." Draco glared at Madam Pomfrey when she turned her head. "Well, as a matter of fact, it was. I moved an owl nest and the mother-"

"Merlin, Draco! Are you daft? Moving an owl's nest? Even an oaf would know not to do that." Harry came and stood next to Madam Pomfrey before she scurried off again. "What? You think I don't know that?"

"Clearly, you don't."

"Bloody hell, Potter. Why are you so invested in this?" The raven-haired man crossed his arms, looking over at the owl at the foot of the bed. The owl stared back, it's large eyes reflecting the room. "Is this it? The owl who attacked you?"

Draco raised a brow. "Yes?"

"You're not bothered by it following you?"

Draco huffed, "I moved her nest, she had every right to attack me." Harry nodded as he uncurled his fist. Madam Pomfrey finally returned, a nasty bubbling potion in hand. It was a dark purple.

"Drink this please, all of it."

Draco grasped the bottle and sniffed. It smelled like absolute shit. Draco plugged his nose and threw his head back, chugged it in one go.

"Mr. Potter, would you mind holding his hand? This may hurt."

"Oh, I doubt I'll need to hold his hand." Draco scoffed, giving her better access to his wounds. She shrugged and grabbed his arm, "Well, alright. Now don't squirm too much, this may hurt."

She waved her wand and cast a wordless spell. Immediately a sharp pain came to Draco's arm as he watched his skin tissues slowly mend itself.

"Bloody- Potter! Potter, your hand!" Draco grabbed Harry with his other hand, immediately squeezing. He heard Harry mumbled a soft 'ow'

"Oh, you think you're in pain?"

{-}

It was annoyingly embarrassing having Harry bloody Potter take his notes for class. Draco could barely read his chicken scratch, and it didn't help that Harry didn't even write down half the stuff the Professors said. His arm was mended, but Madam Pomfrey instructed him to avoid writing or casting spells for the next week which proved to be challenging in a school that studied magic.

The library was chilling that evening and brought in a gust of air from time to time. It would blow away the piles of paper Draco had laid out. "Could you at least try to write legibly?"

"Oh, well I'm sorry if writing two sets of notes makes me a bit rushed." Harry snapped from next to Draco who looked over at Harry so quickly, one could think he snapped his neck.

"Excuse me?"

"All I'm saying is I have to write two sets of notes. Which, by the way, I'm doing out of the kindness of my heart because I don't even have to do this for you." Harry dragged as he carelessly scribbled down a copy of his notes.

Draco's nose scrunched up, obviously displeased with the effort (or lack of) Harry was putting into the notes.

"And all I'm saying is that if you told me about your stupid premonition, this whole thing could have been avoided!"

"Well, I didn't!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Draco abruptly stood and shoved Harry's chair as he walked around to the bookshelf on the opposite side.

"Hey!"

Draco turned back, his eyes showing his absolute I-don't-give-a-fuck-ness. "Opps," He shrugged before turning back to skim over the books.

He heard Harry's aggravated huff turn into a chuckle and felt a smirk pull on his lips.

Chapter Text

Hey, I’m sorry to update you with this news.

This work is being discontinued. If you have any curiosity as to where it was heading, I’d be glad the post another chapter explain the general plot I had in mind.

Sorry for let you guys down, I just lost the passion I had for this story.

Comment any questions you may have.

“v(〓￣(∵エ∵)￣〓)v”