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Chapter Text

During 1978 a lot of people died. Amongst them were not only muggles or half-bloods but also purebloods, members of the sacred 28, and high-ranking Aurors and Death eaters. Both sides were getting weaker and weaker. A lot of mistakes were made which led to the capture and imprisonment of many. That could indicate only one thing. The war was reaching its climax. There would soon be an end to it but no one knew exactly whose victory it would entail.

Pureblood families were especially worried about the oncoming battles. Would they lose a son or a daughter? What would happen to their pure bloodline and who would continue it? Their children were still young and were already burdened by the war so why rush them into having children? But soon their opinion on the matter would change with the rise of the new ministry in 1975 Death eaters were being prosecuted and imprisoned for decades. That's why notorious families like the Malfoys forced their married kids to try to conceive as soon as possible as tomorrow was not guaranteed.

The problem with the Malfoy family was that even through continuous attempts to conceive they wouldn't be able to. After two years of trying Lucius proposes that they try different fertility treatments like fertility potions, or ancient spells to increase the probability of getting pregnant but it all will be in vain. Narcissa was tired from it all and their relationship would suffer from it. She needed to distance herself from her husband. They had had yet another screaming match which led them straight to bed where they both had taken their frustration on one another. On the next morning, Lucius would be gone because of his duties as a Death eater so Narcissa would pack her bags and go for a quiet retreat at their French estate.

~~~

A couple of months later Narcissa would start feeling sick. She would be nauseous every single day, she would get tired easily, and would have frequent mood swings. After two weeks of feeling the discomfort, she visited a healer in France and found out that the cause of her sickness was actually a baby. She was over the moon. Her and her husband's efforts finally paid off and they were finally going to have an heir. The relief of not being a failure to her family was so immense that she almost forgot that she and Lucius were not on speaking terms.

After owling the Malfoy Manor Narcissa would receive the news that her husband had been arrested by the Aurors and was going to stand trial later on during the year so he had to stay in custody. She was utterly devastated.

How will I do this alone?

She had nowhere safe to stay as now all of the Malfoy estates were accessible to Death eaters freely as Lucius had consented to it in case of his capture or death. He believed Bellatrix would take care of his wife but Narcissa knew her sister wasn't mentally stable enough to do so as she was obsessed with her Master and didn't care about anything or anyone else.

She inevitably decided that she had to swallow her pride and ask her family for help. And so after 5 years of not speaking to Andromeda, she and Narcissa would have a reunion. Narcissa stayed in hiding with her sister for the whole 9 months. Even if she was uncomfortable with her muggle husband and methamorphmagus daughter she needed all the support she could get as her pregnancy was very hard and full of different complications.

Sirius was also made aware of the issue. He never particularly liked Narcissa but she was one of the family members he considered tolerable, decent even. She had always been cold and quiet, never one to stick out in any way except academically or because of her flawless regal appearance. So he would visit the sisters and bring them whatever they needed. They were family after all. Even if he was cast out from the Black bloodline they weren't the ones who made the decision for that to happen.

~~~

The day of Draco Lucius Malfoy's birth was just as traumatic as the process of his conceiving. He had been born on 5 June 1978, weak and sickly with the major complication of an underdeveloped heart. The healers feared whether he would live through the night so they would have someone watch him through the night constantly. Sirius and Andromeda would both be there for Narcissa and offer her their support. They had never seen her so emotionally amess before and that disturbed them to no end. She would cry and beg to see Draco even though she knew she couldn't as he needed different diagnostics and treatment spells to be constantly cast on him in order to develop normally.

Draco was an unfortunate child ever since his birth but he did pull through and his condition did get better after the first crucial night. He was less pale and definitely more lively but he did still struggle to eat properly. The healers weren't worried about it much as he continued to get better and better.

The three cousins got really close because of the whole ordeal and so on the spur of the moment, Sirius made Narcissa make a promise that she would visit them with baby Draco as often as she could. The new mother was so ecstatic that without much thought she agreed to do so. And she would keep the promise. That is until her husband got released from prison after the war because of his claim that he was under the Imperius curse.

Sirius and Andromeda doted on Draco so much along with Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora who despite being 5 years older than Draco loved him as if he were her little brother.

~~~

After hearing that Lucius Malfoy was proven not guilty Andromeda would sit Narcissa down for a talk in the living room of their humble estate.

"I know that you won't be able to keep your promise after reconciling with your husband and it's OK."

She didn't want to have to part with both her sister and her cousin but she had absolutely no say in the matter so the least she could do was ease her sister's mind about leaving.

"I'm sorry, I know you and Sirius did so much for me and every day I'll be thankful for it. I want to repay both of you by letting you have a connection with Draco but I can't do that."

It was hard for her to leave her family home in the first place. As she was the youngest she was always babied by her two older sisters so parting with them was never going to get any easier.

"I know Cissy and you don't need to apologize for anything. You made that decision a long time ago by marrying Lucius and it's completely fine but we do want Draco to have apiece of us both while growing up."

Andromeda got up from her armchair and went to fetch something from her room.

"This," she said as she held up a book "you can show him whenever in life, you decide he is ready". The book was similar to a scrapbook full of photos and receipts, movie tickets, VHS tapes, stickers, and little notes. It contained everything from their youth. While it was mostly Andromeda and Sirius there were also pictures of Narcissa and Regulus, Regulus who had died only a year ago. The wound of his death was still fresh as it turned out he just like Narcissa realized his mistake too late. She was already on the verge of tears but they would only spill over once she saw the next item.

"And this," she said as she lifted a clothing hanger with a very familiar leather jacket on it "you can give to him later on in life when he grows up enough to wear it".

It was Sirius' favorite jacket. It was old and had definitely seen better days but it was full of memories. It had pins and patches with witty lines and symbols no one else could comprehend except Sirius and his friends and it would be so painfully obvious to anyone looking at it that it didn't belong to a pure-blood wizard but Narcissa still took it from Andromeda's hands. It even smelled like Sirius's favorite perfume. She lifted it to her nose and breathed in deeply.

"It's charmed to smell like that forever, a little dramatic but I guess he was obsessed with smelling good for some reason." She chuckled .

"Thank you for everything". Narcissa said as she let out a watery laugh.

The sister embraced for one last time.

"You'll always find a home and support in me Narcissa so if you were to ever need it, don't you hesitate."

"I will remember it" and with that, they parted for years but it certainly wouldn't be their last time seeing each other.

Chapter Text

Draco was spoiled rotten as a kid. He didn't lack absolutely anything except maybe fatherly love. Lucius Malfoy wasn't one to show his love through loving gestures like hugs or kisses even if he inclined to buy everything when asked about it. Narcissa was on the other hand constantly watching over their boy and showering him with affection, which displeased her husband to no end.

" If you continue to smother him with your motherly love and affection he'll grow up to be soft and weak" he would often berate her.

"What can I do about it Lucius, he is our miracle!"

She would fight back as she still to this day would still shudder every time she thought about the day of Draco's birth. His survival was miraculous as there was a huge possibility he would die within his first night on Earth.

Every time Lucius heard that point in an argument he would sight, pinch the bridge of his nose and step closer to his wife. He would put his arms around her and gently press his lips to her forehead.

"I know that it was hard for you, while I was gone darling, but Draco needs to grow up as a man, a pureblood one at that. He should soon start his education in preparation for Hogwarts as he is almost 6 years old and start his manners and etiquette training and you know how well that would bode with his spoilt and carefree attitude right now."

Narcissa knew that. Of course she did after all it was a pureblood tradition but still she didn't want in the slightest to have to restrict Draco's childhood

"I am well aware, it's just that I wish we had a little bit more time before that" she would sigh in disappointment.

"I know you do, dear, as I know you still wish he were nothing more than a baby, but children grow up."

Usually such arguments would end on that note but on that particular Narcissa was feeling extremely sad, as it was around a week before her miracle's birthday. So she looked Lucius straight in the eyes and said unexpectedly:

"Let's just have another one!"

"Another what?"

"Let's have another child"

Shock could be read in both of their expressions. In Narcissa's because of how boldly she had stated that and in Lucius' because he never expected to hear those words in the first place.

"You are not just saying that because you're feeling sad and you want me to lift your mood through a certain activity in the bedroom, are you?"

"Of course not! I'm being serious right now, how could you even think of that!"

She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks as she spoke.

"What am I supposed to think? I thought we had given up on having any more children as we had trouble conceiving the first one. It would be hard especially now at this age. The probability of getting pregnant and carrying to term is low for pureblood witches your age and you know that. Especially when they have a previous child because they have already given up some of their magical essence to their firstborn."

Narcissa pursed her lips. Her relationship with her dear husband had definitely improved after his release from prison but moments like that and especially statements like that more often than not coming from him made her question her whole existence.

Their fertility issues were not caused by age or an unhealthy way of living and now Draco certainly wasn't another cause for them. The issues all stemmed from their inbred bloodlines. She knew that, as did Lucius. She was sure of it, after all, he wasn't stupid, just delusional. Hell, she would have been the same had she not lived with the Tonks family and Sirius. That was for her a pivotal moment of realization. Nymphadora was a baby born right after Andromeda finished school, she and Ted weren't even planning to have her. Her sister would often joke about Dora being an unplanned wedding gift, so why would Narcissa have fertility issues?

Alas in such moments she would snap out of it and brush it off. There is no use in dwelling on both of their past mistakes any longer since they have already been made and she really did at least love her husband. So with a bitter smile, the wife turned to her husband and stated:

"I know it is dangerous, dear, but we must ensure the continuation of our bloodline, and having another heir could be a to be a way to know for sure that we've fulfilled our duty."

There was no need for her to mention that Draco could also face similar problems in the future so a second child could be an insurance for them so they wouldn't stay without grandchildren. She knew that that kind of logic would be praised by the society they were living in but it wasn't the main thing on her mind right now. The reason why she was saying it was to convince Lucius.

As for why she wanted another child. Well, she couldn't stand seeing Draco lonely. She had seen the longing looks he threw at other kids playing together. He had everything in the world but his childhood still was not as full of happiness as she wanted it to be. A second child would also mean shared responsibility. He wouldn't have to face the duties of an heir alone. She was doing it for him.

The discussion ended with Lucius leaning in and whispering in her ear:

"Alright then we are having a baby, but we're doing it the classical way this time. No pressure or fertility treatments only pure marital bliss, how about that?"

"Let's begin with it already, shall we?"

She would whisper back and grab his arm leading him to the master's bedroom.

~~~

Even if this time there was no pressure or expectation Narcissa was stressed. It had been months since they began trying without any success.

What if this time it's also a false pregnancy?

She was anxiously waiting for her healer to return with the results of the pregnancy-revealing potion she had taken a couple of minutes ago.

The healer returned and said with a smile:

"Congratulations, Mrs. Malfoy, you are pregnant!"

Narcissa couldn't believe what she was hearing. She felt absolutely elated. Maybe this would finally make her family life as happy as it could ever possibly be.

~~~

Little Draco wasn't exactly excited about having a sibling. Not only would the little vermin demand most of his parents' attention but he also wouldn't be able to play with him like ever. By the time it grew up enough to do so, Draco would already be a Hogwarts student.

He couldn't comprehend why his parents had decided to have another child so many years later after his birth. Was he not enough? Did they not love him enough? Why would they be having a baby after having him, there is absolutely no point as they already have all that they could wish for. Needless to say, the arrival of the baby scared him.

The family had invited all of their pureblood friends to celebrate the gender reveal of their new addition and have a baby shower for Narcissa at the same time.

Draco was of course bored. All the kids around him were younger. They definitely weren't at his intellectual level yet so trying to play with them was excruciating. He was also feeling the dread of finding out whether the baby would be a boy or a girl. If it were a boy they would have to constantly be compared to one another. Draco was a very smart child he could feel social cues and contexts so he realized from an early age that that was often the case. Pureblood children often tend to compete for family approval especially when they are from the same gender.

As he was walking around the Manor's garden, head full of thoughts about the future, he accidentally bumped into someone, who was definitely taller maybe even older than him.

"Ouch" he let out as he stumbled backward.

"Apologies, I wasn't really looking at where I was going because I was too busy trying not to die from boredom." The seemingly older boy (because of his menacing height) would utter with a nonchalant voice and facial expression. However, slight amusement could be read in his eyes

That boy is beautiful. Can boys actually be described as beautiful though?

That didn't really matter, that bloke looked like the protagonist of the historical plays, that his mother took him to and there was no other description that would be even close to fitting his flawless appearance, or so Draco thought.

"It's all right, I wasn't looking either"

The other boy outstretched a hand towards Draco.

"Blaise Zabini"

Draco reluctantly shook his hand.

"Draco Malfoy, it's nice to meet you"

"Malfoy, you said? So this is your mom's party."

"Yeah, wouldn't have attended it if it wasn't for her."

"You bored too?"

Draco could see a mischievous spark ignite in Blaise's eyes and the little smirk growing on his lips so he hesitantly answered.

"Most definitely, yeah."

"How about we have some fun of our own then?"

~~~

Needless to say, the party didn't go as well as planned. It was a disaster. When the time for the reveal came the cake, which was supposed to be cut for the family to find out the gender of the baby, the cake exploded in a cloud of blue dust. The only two people who found it funny were of course Draco and Blaise. He had made a friend that day.

Draco usually didn't like talking to anyone, he wasn't a social pariah but he had never had friends before that. He didn't know what was right or wrong or how to socialize with others outside of the stuffy pureblood manner lessons. Draco had also never really misbehaved before, he did have a mischievous side to him but it rarely came out and when it did he didn't really do anything of significance. What he had done that day with Blaise felt exhilarating. The thrill and the rush of their deed had finally rid him of his boredom. But that night, his excitement over the fact that he learned something new about himself (that he liked being mischievous) and that he made a new friend would soon die down. Later on, the little boy learned a lesson he would never forget. It was the first of many future 'talks' in his father's study.

The little boy, who had never been denied anything before, experienced firsthand why children should behave. Corporal punishment was after all a pureblood tradition. His own father hit him for the first time that night. Right after they entered the study, his father slapped him so hard he could feel the tears burning in his eyes and spilling out onto his face. To Draco, it was kind of like a wake-up call. He would usually get reprimanded if he did something not to his disliking but he'd never been hit over it.

The whole ordeal made him reluctant to contact Blaise Zabini ever again as the fault of what happened was his, but a few days later, he received a letter, tied to the leg of a foreign-looking owl. It was a sincere apology from none other than his new-found friend.

Dear Draco,

I sincerely apologize for my actions at your parents' gender reveal celebration. I'm deeply sorry for the inconvenience and I hope my actions didn't lead to any unpleasant consequences or problems for you. Alas, I really had fun with you and I hope we can meet again under far better circumstances.

P.S. I'm inviting you to a sleepover after my mum's fourth wedding, which your family will be attending anyway.

Sincerely yours,

B. Zabini

Chapter Text

Draco and Blaise soon became inseparable. Of course, his parents had their reservations towards the Italian boy and said boy's mother but they eventually accepted the fact that their son didn't like any other pureblood kids.

The Zabini family was fairly new at the scene of blood purity in England. Blaise's ancestors had settled in Sicily centuries ago and yet he still faced the prejudices of traditionalist British or French families. A reason for that was the fact that his ancestors weren't especially wealthy or influential, but his mother was. Her reputation as a "black widow" followed her and her son no matter where they went. Hence, Narcissa and Lucius were reluctant to give their blessing to Draco and Blaise's friendship.

Draco adored not only the Zabinis but also their estate. He loved the combination of traditionally Italian ancient wizarding architecture and modern-day elements similar to those of very wealthy muggle homes. It was exceptional in the sense that even if it was an old home of a pureblood family it still managed to keep up with new trends, which goes to show that not only the home but its inhabitants adapted to change while still remembering their origins. The Malfoy Manor was his home but there he had all the restrictions and at Blaise's, he felt true freedom, it remained the same for centuries and would probably stay like that.

Allegra Zabini was rarely home, so her son had the freedom to do whatever he wanted in between his etiquette lessons. She was, of course, too busy with her new husband and however many suitors were still hanging onto her after marriage. Draco never blamed neither her or her countless flings for not paying that much attention to Blaise.

As a young boy, Draco had both a mother and a father who were in a somewhat stable marriage, even if they fought a lot they would never separate. Blaise, however always lacked a father, and his mother, also, was semi-present during his childhood. Blaise witnessed a lot of men get smitten to death with his mom, so he had an aversion to making long-term commitments to other people, but Draco was an exception.

In people's eyes Draco was pure and naive, always listening to his mommy and daddy, always the prim and proper perfect son but Blaise could see right through him. And in his heart, he saw mischief and ambition, the raw need to prove yourself and get recognized so much so that you become a people pleaser.

The kid was also a pure genius even if no one truly paid attention to anything but his social standing. Draco was filled with immense knowledge on different subjects even some regarding muggles and their science. He often tried to show his father that he was as well-rounded as every pureblood should strive to be so he tended to brag a lot about anything he had learned and show off new spells he had mastered but his father often brushed him off or appeared unimpressed by his progress, after all, Draco still hadn't made any influential friends or beneficial connections so why would Lucius be proud of him? His mother soon put a stop to the development of such a habit, though.

"Purebloods never brag or show off. You need to be humble, my little dragon."

Initially, she wouldn't bat an eyelash at Draco's antics, but after the birth of his brother, she began asserting herself more into Lucius' parenting. After all, Draco was now an older brother, so he needed to act like it. The two sons would share their pureblood-heir responsibilities, but if she wanted both of them to grow properly, she would have to make Draco a reliable personal example for Orion.

When it comes to Orion, well, let's just say that Draco didn't pay any mind to the baby. It's not like he hated the baby or anything. He wasn't that immature to dislike a newborn, or so he would tell anyone who asked what it was like having such an age gap with a sibling, but he didn't explicitly like the baby boy.

After Orion's birth everyone had turned their attention to the newborn and Draco was as spoiled as they get, even for a pureblood kid, so he did feel neglected by his parents who now had eyes mostly for the little vermin. At the same time, Draco relished the fact that he finally had room to breathe on his own as he wasn't constantly pampered. (Don't get him wrong he enjoyed it most days but sometimes he did get tired of constantly being supervised.)

~~~~~

By the time it was time for Draco to go to Hogwarts he had somehow grown fond of Orion, surprising everyone around the the two boys.

Orion was a lucky boy. He was lucky since his birth, not only were there no complications during it but also the kid rarely got sick. He was healthy and he looked exactly like Lucius, whereas Draco shared a lot of his mother's regal facial features and soft deep gaze. That's one of the reasons why said father favored his younger son, compared to his older one.

The two brothers got along like a house on fire. As a small child Orion was just as spoiled as his brother but said older sibling never left him off the hook and teased him all the time. It was how Draco learned to show his affection, after all he constantly messed around with Blaise so that was the only way he knew outside of the kisses and hugs he received from his mom on the rare occasion.

Draco was a bit of a controversial topic among high-end wizarding society. It was a known fact that he was born while Lucius was imprisoned also the boy seemed a little too similar and too attached to his mom, so his aversion to making friends hadn't changed throughout his whole childhood, which was another reason why a lot of people seemed to prefer Orion.

The younger brother was a socialite from a young age. No matter what he did all the pureblood kids around his age loved him and followed him around.

~~~~~

At King's Cross station Draco was parting with his family for his first year of Hogwarts. And it went as well as it could, which means it kind of was a shit show, to say the least.

His parents stood at the station, looking like the perfect couple, a cold air of confidence and indifference to anyone who may be looking their way. They were the definition of perfection, that's if you were to ignore the raging gremlin, which was pulling at both of their robes. People were staring and whispering.

Draco wasn't sure as to wether he should laugh or cry. He had warned them! Why did he have to take Orion with them?

"You know your brother is going to be really upset if you were to leave without saying goodbye."

Narcissa would scold him after his plea NOT to let Orion come to the station.

"But mom he is yet to take etiquette lessons, he is gonna embarrass me, embarrass us and our family name!"

"You're just being dramatic, darling." Draco would protest.

"I wonder who I've gotten it from."

"Don't get smart with your mother Draco." Lucius would, in Draco's opinion, needlessly, chime in.

"He is coming and that's the end of this discussion. No matter what you say you can't convince me not to take him with us and that's final."

Draco wanted to throw himself off the roof of the Manor right at that moment. Either that or scream his lungs out and rip his hair off strand by strand.

An hour later, however, he felt true satisfaction at watching his parents manhandle his brother into a standing position as he was sobbing his eyes off, losing balance from crying so hard.

Oh how the tables have turned.

As he stood there wondering whether he should help or leave them at their own devices and simply board the train, his mother threw him a scalding gaze.

"You did this now do something about it." Her eyes read.

He answered with a look of his own that clearly stated: "I told you so, now deal with it."

She at that moment looked ready to throw hands. He had never seen her loose composure but that was definitely as close as it gets. Lucius looked absolutely helpless as well. Whenever Draco cried as a kid he would reprimand him, but that also earned him a scolding from his wife more often than not. For Draco to stop crying a simple hug was all it took, but Orion, ever the brat was inconsolable whenever he started throwing a tantrum. The parents simply let him ride it out and calm down on his own. But that was impossible when in public

As the mother was about to say something to her sleazy git of a son, who was watching from the side with a victorious smirk, she opened her mouth and closed it. She was astonished at the sight in front of her eyes.

Draco Malfoy was leaning down hugging his baby brother, something as rare as a blue moon. In fact, she had never seen him do it before.

Apparently, Orion also found it startling, as the five-years-old old had completely stopped his crying.

"Why are you crying, you little vermin?"

Orion looked up to his brother, who appeared annoyed but was secretly amused at the little gremlin's antics.

"You're going to leave me!" The little boy said with a new onset of tears.

"How dramatic, what are we, Romeo and Juliette?" Draco scoffed but winked at his brother which emitted a giggle from him.

"Listen, Roni, now that I'm at school and Dad is always at work you are the only man at home so you need to act accordingly. Big boys don't cry and they protect their loved ones so look after Mom for me, will you?" The older brother whispered

"Of course!" Orion said loudly.

"Come on now, I need to say goodbye to Mom and Dad."

Draco let go of his little brother but Orion latched onto his hand as they went to Narcissa and Lucius.

Of course, the whole circus performance ended with a lecture from his Dad regarding blood puritism, success, and bringing prestige to the family name, alas nothing new under the sun.

~~~~~

The ride to Hogwarts was uneventful. He spent it catching up with Blaise and getting. The both of them didn't feel like socializing with anyone before the Sorting so they resorted to playing wizarding chess and exploding snap.

As the train came to a stop they made their way out and joined the crowd of first years. Some of them were astonished by the castle, others marveled over Hagrid's height but among the excited kids, Draco heard some pointing at him and whispering. When they were inside the castle Draco heard what they were saying.

"Did you see the Malfoy kid screaming its head off? It was absolutely hilarious. Guess no matter how pure the blood, incompetent people raise incompetent children."

Draco could feel his knuckles turning white from the force with which he was squeezing his wand. Silently as to not raise a fuss he swung it, whispering an incantation.

Let's see how incompetently my parents and tutors have raised me.

Suddenly screams were coming from the first years, who were yet to be sorted. The boy who had bad-mouthed the Malfoys was now sobbing as his face was swelling up so much that he seemed unrecognizable.

Draco was putting so much effort into looking inconspicuous so he was grinding his teeth to stop himself from laughing or even smirking but his childhood friend wasn't making it easy. Blaise was full-on snickering, his pearly white perfect teeth on display for everyone to see. As if having the stinging hex cast on you was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

As Professor McGonagall appeared she was startled by the commotion. She was supposed to explain the Sorting to the first years and welcome them to the castle as she had done routinely. She didn't expect to have to take a child to Madam Pomfrey before the first feast of the year had even started.

Noticing Blaise's amused grin and Draco's proud but only seemingly impassive face, she asked:

"Who did this?"

Abruptly everyone quieted down so much so that a drop of a needle would be heard in the hall. As a couple of beats of silence had passed the Professor turned her attention solely to the two boys who seemed the most entertained by the situation.

" Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini, do you have anything to share with me, maybe confess your wrongdoings?"

They both went pale and looked at each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes. It was decided. Draco spoke up:

"Professor we are only first years how would we know a jinx of such caliber? No at-home tutor teaches that, even if they specialize in Dark arts theory and history. We were just admiring whoever did that as in my opinion, it was a very well-deserved and beautifully cast jinx.

His calm intonation and witty explanation made Blaise thank all the Gods out there for making Draco his best friend. Even if the Professor was suspicious they would come out unscathed as there was no evidence.

"Very well then, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini. I'm gonna let it slide this time but I'll be keeping a close eye on you for the rest of the year.

And that is how Draco's reputation as the unapproachable and untouchable prince of Slytherin began.

~~~~~

Unbeknownst to him Blaise wasn't the only one who witnessed him casting the spell. Two redheads from the other side of the room glanced at each other in mutual agreement.

This is gonna be a very fun year.

Chapter Text

Maybe Draco is just being dramatic. He does have a dramatic flare, but you can't fault him for it, after all, it runs in the family. However, it does seem like his school life is exceptionally boring and uneventful.

It's not like Draco doesn't get along with his roommates. They were all nice blokes if a little on the prim and proper side. Cassius Warrington, Terrance Higgs, and Adrian Pucey all came from nice respectable families yet they still didn't go out of their way to communicate with either Draco or Blaise. The Malfoy heir could get behind why they weren't keen on fraternizing with the son of a convicted death eater, but why did they also isolate Blaise? Was it because Draco and Blaise were always together, or because of Blaise's mom's reputation?

Not only did he not have any new close mates but also he had learned most of what the curriculum for first-years entails so during most of his classes he would have to constantly struggle not to fall asleep on his desk.

There was that one time when he did accidentally nod off. Unfortunately for him, it didn't go unnoticed by Professor Binns. As the ghost tried waking him up, Draco was startled so badly that he flinched out of his chair and landed underneath his desk. Since then he struggled to listen vigilantly during every single one of his classes, which didn't seem to help with the boredom one bit. Worst of all Blaise teased him about the whole fiasco for weeks to no end as it was one of the only entertaining things to happen in months, or so the Italian boy claimed.

That was until one fateful joined flying lesson between the Slytherin and the Gryffindor house.

~~~~

As both Gryffindors and Slytherins have progressed enough to fly on their own. Madam Hooch decided it was time for them to try playing an impromptu quidditch game. What better way to strengthen inter-house relationships than making the two houses compete against each other, right?

"I want to be the seeker" stated Terence Higgs loudly and confidently

A murmur broke out amidst the Slytherin house. Wasn't Draco supposed to be the seeker? He was the most agile on his broom after all. Also, he was of way higher social standing than Higgs, shouldn't he be a seeker by default? Shouldn't Higgs know that by now and keep his mouth shut? All eyes were on Draco now. What was he going to say? He was definitely going to have an angry outburst, was everyone's collective thought. The Malfoy heir had always been an arrogant immature git and as it turns out Higgs didn't know him well enough to foresee the consequences of his actions towards Draco.

Before anyone could say anything, Angelina Johnson went up to Madam Hooch.

"No one seems to be keen on playing seeker, Ma'am. Yet alone against Higgs."

The adult turned expectantly towards the remaining Slytherin students who were yet to choose a position to play.

"Any volunteers to switch sides?"

A beat of silence followed her question. Who would want to publicly declare that they were OK with playing for Gryffindor? The students started throwing glances at each other.

Blaise also decided to peer at his friend, who to his surprise had a very familiar chillingly cunning and scheming look on his face. With a determined expression Draco raised his hand!

No way in the bloody hell! What is going on in that prick's head?

"What are you doing?" He whisper-shouted.

"It's for the sake of the game, Zabini. Chill out, it's not like it's an official game. Plus I won't have to tread on anyone's toes to play my favorite position, the other guys are closed off to us anyway, so at least I'll get to meet new people even if they are insufferable Gryffindors. Also like, think about inter-house unity."

Inter-house unity, my ass. The git's gonna get himself disowned one day.

It's not like Blaise had anything against Gryffindors. He neither liked them nor disliked them, but Malfoy on the other hand usually spoke with absolute disgust when it came to the other house. Maybe it was because of his spoilt upbringing but Blaise did eventually realize that his hate was more or less purely based on peer pressure from the other Slytherins. Draco was afraid of being a social pariah and Blaise could definitely tell. So don't get him wrong as much as he usually was completely chill with all of Draco's crazy ideas this one took the cake. He was treading on dangerous territory with that one.

Truth is, the Malfog boy envied Gryffindors. They were always together like a community, even if they only knew each other for a few months. He wanted to meet people who wouldn't judge him simply based on his family name. He was not only bored but also kinda lonely. So he did raise his hand confidently.

"Alright then, Mr.Malfoy's to be the other team's seeker. You have 15 minutes to create your strategy for the game and then we'll start playing. And remember the goal is to learn and have fun while playing no dirty plays or violent outbursts, understood?" Asked Madam Hooch putting an end to all murmurs regarding the Slytherin boy.

A collective round of affirmative words was heard and so the discussions started.

"I'm Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you all." He stated smirking confidently. His smirk wasn't exactly mean, it was more on the playful and aloof side.

Once the initial shock wore off, the Gryffindors started introducing themselves one by one.

"I'm Fred and he is George Weasley. Our fathers don't like each other at all, but you seem nice."

As the boy spoke up Draco saw the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the teasing smile and immediately understood that at least one of the statements the boy uttered was a lie.

Finally. Something interesting.

~~~~

As the game progressed Draco was astounded by the twins' clever plays. At every single point of the game, they precisely pointed the Bludgers in the right direction.

From afar their playing style looked chaotic and laid back but if you were in the game you would understand that they had a reason for every single one of their actions. Draco loved such players. Not only did they cunningly pose as not that threatening to their opponents on purpose, but they also were reliable for the team.

With Draco catching the snitch before Higgs could even pinpoint it, the twins' clever plays, and Angelina Johnsons' efficient passes and goals the "Gryffindor" team had achieved a total victory.

And that's how the second generation of Marauders was created.

Chapter Text

Lately, the atmosphere at the Slytherin first-year dorms has been very tense.

Before it was tolerable but after the quidditch match it was like an iron wall had divided the room in two. In the left corner were Terence Higgs, Adrian Pucey, and Cassius Warrington, in the right corner were of course Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini.

The other Slytherins were curious as to what had ensued between the boys for it to cause such a divide, but most of the first-years speculated that they had had a falling out after the match. There were of course whispers around the halls.

"That's straight-up being a traitor to the Slytherin house."

A third-year Slytherin girl told her little first-year sister in the common room as she listened to her version of what happened during the flying lesson.

"I don't think so. He looked so badass while doing it, and also it kinda prevented the fight for the seeker position."

The little sister said with a slightly flustered voice and pink cheeks, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

Ah I see, why you wanted to tell me the story, you cheeky little brat. You fancy the bloke!

"It was not brave or badass or whatever. It was a silly decision and it brought the Slytherins a bad reputation. The other houses are gonna think we're growing soft on them. He played with Gryffindors, Gryffindors! It wouldn't be so bad if it had been any of the other houses but he chose those brainless naive dorks!"

All the talks in the common room had gone silent as the girl finished her rant, trying to teach her little sister to not associate herself either such people who lack common sense enough to be friendly with the Gryffindor house.

"I'm glad that someone in this house is oh so overly concerned with its reputation but I don't think the actions of a mere first year do matter that much. Also, it was a Slytherin who caught the snitch and won the match was it not?" A cold voice could be heard clearly in the quiet common room.

Someone in the crowd gasped. The voice belonged to no other than the Malfoy heir himself.

With that, the whole ordeal was never brought up again as the Slytherins realized that maybe, the little first year is not to be messed with. From then on rumors carried the world that Draco Malfoy, "The Prince of Slytherin" wouldn't stop in front of anything to prove a point or win. Many people would attribute such behavior to two things. Firstly he is especially spoiled by his parents so he has never ever lost or lacked anything. Second, he was part of a family, that had two children, which was a rarity among the 28 Sacred bloodlines so he had to always show others that he was the best and was fit to be the heir.

~~~~

As the days went on Draco would often sneak out at odd times to hang out with the Gryffindor twins he made acquaintance. They were fun, like really fun. They were always scheming and up to no good. So they got along like a house on fire (literally). That was until Blaise found out. At first he was really against Draco hanging out with them, but the Malfoy heir was stubborn and brought him to one of their meet-ups. And so the three musketeers became four.

According to Blaise Fred was the better twin. Fred is usually the funnier but also the crueler of the two. Which made him the "initial spark" of the prank to be pulled.

Then came Draco. Draco was the true mastermind. Together with Fred they would sit and brainstorm for days to no end until everything was perfect. Both twins, despite their unimpressive academic record, show a high degree of knowledge and skill in creating magical jokes and tricks, however, Draco was simply on another level. After the planning and charm work, it came to creating the perfect setting.

That's where Blaise came in. The boy was a perfect decoy, he was charming and had so many connections no one would suspect him of being involved in the joke.

George would often go along with pranks and do the manual part of things. He had golden hands people would say, he could create anything.

And so with Fred's imaginative mind, Draco's magical skills, Blaise's charm, and George's nimble hands they were the perfect team.

The boys got to know each other and became close. Draco and Blaise would often tell tales from their childhood as pureblood kids who had a mischievous streak, which drove their parents mad, while the twins would describe what's like to live with so many siblings.

One of the most memorable stories was Blaise and Draco's "cake gate", to which Fred told them a story of how when he was five years old, he had a toy broomstick and their younger brother Ron, who was three years old at the time, accidentally broke Fred's broomstick, which made Fred angry and turned Ron's teddy bear into a spider, which caused Ron's fear of spiders.

Draco couldn't wait to meet all the Weasleys, no matter what he had heard about them during his etiquette lessons, blood-traitors or not they sounded like a funny bunch.

~~~~

One night as he came out of his shower Draco was confronted by all of his roommates sitting on his bed.

"Come and sit Draco it's nothing bad, we just want to talk. Blaise will join us in a minute." Cassius Warrington would utter. As the oldest and most mature of all of them, he often tended to play peacemaker.

They all sat in a circle on Draco's bed. He prompted Cassius to go on.

"What exactly is this about, Warrington?"

"We as a dorm-" Draco scoffed. "We" and "dorm" usually meant Warrington, Pucey and Higgs. "-had a discussion and lately we rarely see either of you. You often disappear. You haven't been doing anything inappropriate, have you?" He asked in a stern tone.

Draco scoffed again. "What if we are, you a snitch or something? Slytherin unity my ass, you don't even speak to us Warrington, now you wanna know all of our secrets. Don't you worry we won't get you in trouble so let's end this here."

"How are we supposed to be sure of that", shouted Higgs.

"The matter does not concern you so leave us alone. And stop putting your enormous nose in everyone'sbusiness, Higgs", Blaise snapped.

Draco snorted at that.

"Look we're sorry about our behavior. The thing is, we realized you two are not such bad blokes so... I wanted this to go different but, anyway we want to be friends with you and be united as dormmates but we shouldn't keep secrets from each other, OK guys?" Pucey would join in softly.

Draco sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and pursed his lips.

"Look guys, we're just meeting with friends from other houses. If my parents were to know about this, they would be pissed. So if we forgive you could you please keep this a secret." Draco asked unsure, having never been so vulnerable with people he didn't know that well.

"Of course, we are never going to snitch on you, Draco, Blaise. As Slytherins, we are seen as cruel and cunning. No one really likes us so we have to have each other's backs. Friends?" Cassius asked extending his hand towards the Malfoy boy.

"Sure, now let's stop with the sappy shit." Draco shook his hand firmly.

The room erupted in boyish laughter. The newfound friends stayed up the whole night playing games and getting properly acquainted with one another. They all shared their snacks from home and the old grudges were all erased. Pureblood or not High society or not they were now united forever.

Chapter Text

Draco's first summer break was exceptionally boring. He had tutors teaching him all sorts of stuff prematurely. Since he was great at picking up charms and potions, even arithmancy his only problem would be Defense against the dark arts. It's not like he was particularly horrible at it, he just wasn't doing well at all, which frustrated him immensely. To speed up the process his father would duel with him in his spare time until Draco no longer could wield his wand. Magic exhaustion is no joke after all.

"No one is going to go easy in a real-life situation, Draco" his father would sigh tiredly.

"Who would even dare duel with me, Father? If I were to continue your legacy and work as a ministry official, I wouldn't be doing much dueling in the future anyway."

"You never know what will happen in the future Draco, especially with your lineage and aspired job. " His father looked at him seriously, straight in the eyes, gaze full of emotions.

Draco often found himself staring at his father's eyes lately. When he was little he often got scolded so he wouldn't dare even look at him, but after one serious scare during his quidditch practice in the spacious garden of Malfoy Manor his whole relationship with his dad changed.

Draco had fallen from his broom and hit a tree quite harshly. It had been raining. His mother hadn't been home. She had taken Orion to spend the summer with some relatives in France as she often did with the both of them when Draco was little. Unfortunately, Draco was stuck at home being tutored for school. So his father decided to stay home to not let him be completely alone with the house elves.

Lucius Malfoy wasn't exactly a loving father. He held both of his kids at a distance, but especially his eldest. He needed to be an honorable heir and a good older brother, not some spoiled wimp, who couldn't protect his family name.

When Draco fell, however, his father bore witness to it all. He was proudly looking at his son from the huge window of the dining hall of the Manor. He witnessed his 11-year-old son being slung around by the strong tornado-like wind and being flung at a tree. It all happened in record time so Lucius couldn't react and put up a protective spell around his son. He immediately didn't waste any time and apparated where his son lay unconscious.

"Draco!" Lucius shouted but his son was unresponsive.

He desperately shook him multiple times but it was pointless. He was freezing, probably close to hypothermic. Lucius cast a warming charm which didn't help much. He then cradled Draco into his arms and took a few deep breaths. He was going to have to call up the family physician, so he stood up still cradling Draco, when he heard a soft groan. He stopped in his tracks and saw his son softly peering at him through his blonde eyelashes with glassy eyes.

"Father?" He muttered weakly

The gaze his father sent his way at that moment is a gaze he will never be able to forget. It was full of fear and anxiety but also relief and fondness and above all pure love and adoration. Even if Lucius didn't say anything. Simply by reading his eyes Draco finally realized, that his dad did love him and he was capable of human emotions. He just wasn't doing a good job of showing it.

~~~~

Draco spent a lot of time at Blaise's house. Both boys would also often hang out with the Weasleys twins. Since Blaise was the only one who could offer his house as a hang-out spot, the boys would constantly experiment and plot mischievous pranks, which eventually drove Allegra Zabini mad.

After another mini-explosion went off in Blaise's wing of the house. Allegra stormed into his room. "Oh, per l'amor di Dio, figlio mio, will you please tone it down for at least a week this summer!"

As she stood in the doorway, the boys, currently covered in dust and a bright green slimy substance, stared at her like deers caught in headlights.

"Ma-"

"I don't even want to know what's going on. Just...."she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose irritatedly"... don't burn down the house while I'm gone on a date with Mr. Zabini number 6."

"Okay, Mamma, have fun!" He called after her as she went down the stairs.

"Dude your mom is so hot, I still can't believe you two are related" Fred exclaimed.

"Shut up, Weasley!"

"I wouldn't be drooling after her if I were you." Draco chuckled darkly.

"What do you think happened to all the previous Mr. Zabinis."

"What happened?" George asked. Suddenly goosebumps appeared all over his body.

"All died of unknown causes," Draco muttered and then laughed evilly.

~~~~~

Draco was happy to meet his dorm mates on the train. They sat together catching up on what each of them did during the summer. They had managed to meet up only like twice so they had a lot of stories to tell.

Later on Draco and Blaise would sneak out of the compartment to hang out with the Weasley twins of course.

As it turns out Draco and his roommates had become like relatives. They write to each other when they are apart but fight for insignificant stuff when they meet after a long time.

And so the quidditch team selection brought on their first really big fight. Higgs tried out for the seeker position but so did Draco. The week before the tryouts the dorm was again divided with Blaise rooting for Draco and the other two rooting for Higgs.

In the end, Draco's immaculate flying technique and agility won him a place on the team while Higgs was to become a chaser as the Slytherin team needed as many good flyers on the team and not such players that were only there because of money or influence.

Unfortunately, Draco and Higgs weren't talking for weeks, which also caused a rift between their friends. The issue went on and on until Higgs confronted Draco, which resulted in said spoiled prick's first fight. By the end of it, both of them were punished by Professor Snape, lectured, and sent to the Hospital wing where they reconciled.

"You punch like a girl" A grumpy Higgs with a tear-stained face would pout.

"At least I didn't cry my eyes out like one" Draco would say through gritted teeth as Madam Pomfrey bandaged his apparently bruised rib.

"It's a physical reaction to being punched in the nose, you insufferable git!" Terrance would yell.

"Silence! This is a place for rest." Madam Pomfrey would scold.

"Sorry," both boys said simultaneously as she left them alone muttering about quidditch and how stupid it is that the headmaster allows young children to play it and fight about it.

"Pomfrey is such a wet blanket."

"Tell me about it!"

~~~~

Except for the twins' failed attempt to enter the Forbidden Forest, which both Draco and Blaise decided to skip nothing interesting happened after the quidditch team selection.

And so Draco was again home for the holidays. As he entered with his dad a weight collided with his chest.

"Dray!"

"Hello to you too, you little brat."

Draco hadn't seen his little brother for a long time as he was barely home for the summer, so he was feeling a little mushy inside from getting to hug him.

"You've grown quite a bit."

"Unlike you," he said while running away

"Once I get my hands on you you're dead, brat!" He shouted as he ran after him.

"Draco, don't bully your younger brother" his mom shouted.

"No promises!"

~~~~

The next big event during Draco's second year in Hogwarts was his finals. He aced every single one of his classes, even Defense Against the Dark Arts.

As it turns out, Draco was smarter than any Ravenclaw and his first year finals weren't a one-off success, which made him public enemy number one among the Ravenclaw house.

With that Draco's second year came to an end without much of a hitch. As he was sitting on the train, bored out of his mind, he fell asleep. He slept soundly, not knowing what his eventful third year had in store for him.

Chapter Text

"Dad's going to have my head on a stick for this, I swear. He better not hear about this from anyone!" A disgruntled Draco murmured through organizing his bag.

"Who would tell him, my mom or Riordan? Chill out Malfoy." A barely fazed Blaise answered in between bites as he was leisurely reading through The Daily Prophet and chewing on some sugar quills.

The boy had recently gotten a very laid-back attitude, which frustrated Draco to no end. His mom had finally married again and went on frequent "honeymoon" trips every few weeks with her new very wealthy Irish husband. >p

Riordan Boyle was a very unfortunate pureblood fellow, whose previous wife died from an unknown family curse. He was very much older than Mrs. Zabini but he had a mellow lonely heart, a very deep family vault, and no living relatives. His only downside was that, because of his lack of children, he was trying to build a relationship with Blaise. Blaise however, knows from experience to never get attached to any of the fatherly figures in his life because they are only temporary.

In his strive to avoid the middle-aged Irish man, the Zabini boy had invited Draco to spend a couple of weeks at his home. When that didn't work, he decided to remove himself from his own home. A little dramatic, if you were to ask Draco but as someone who has family issues as well, he completely understood the need for a change of scenery. After all Blaise's home was exactly that for him - an escape from his nagging father, overbearing mother, and annoying little brother.

Blaise's chosen place for escape, whoever wasn't helping much with preserving Draco's sanity. Namely, both boys were invited to spend a couple of weeks at the infamous Weasley home, The Burrow. Blaise had immediately grasped the opportunity to avoid his step-father's fatherly advances but Draco was very reluctant to accept the invitation. In the end, he had begrudgingly agreed after witnessing a very awkward conversation between Boyle and the Zabini boy, which consisted mainly of the middle-aged man giving Blaise tips on dating. Apparently, you approach girls only after confirming their genuine interest in you, because a lot of them these days are only with you for the money. (If you were to ask Draco Boyle should take his own advice for that one.)

And so the two boys set out for The Burrow.

~~~~

Draco's highlight of the summer was honestly the last two weeks spent at the Weasley twins' home. Meeting all the Weasley children was his best decision yet. (Not that he would ever admit it.)

At the Burrow, Draco had the chance to experience exactly what it meant to have a mother who was fully devoted to her family. Molly Weasley not only took care of all 7 of her kids but also did all and every chore herself and still had the time to cook three meals a day on time for the whole family to gather around the table no matter what plans they had. They all had different personalities and interests but she still tried to pay attention to all of them.

It's not like he lacked care at home, but... This cozy feeling he got, staying at The Weasley home, he had never experienced anything like that at The Manor. He knew that his parents loved him in their own way, but both of them had at a certain point in his childhood developed a distant approach to parenting. Draco understands that neither of them could be a constant presence in his life because they were both public figures, yet he still sometimes felt bitter, jealous, or angry because of that. He grew up in a mostly empty house until Orion was born. The little gremlin was also coddled throughout the first couple of years but later on he was also subject to such parenting. It's not even that Draco's childhood was miserable or anything, just gray. He didn't have any extremely joyful memories but also not many full of sadness or despair. He lacked nothing when it came to toys or books or clothes, but when it came to emotional attachment and expression his parents were severely limited (except his mom on the rare occasions she wasn't busy), which in turn made him also emotionally constipated at times. It's like before meeting Blaise and later on the twins by extension, he wasn't living just... passing through life. Hence why he had the time of his life with the Weasleys.

~~~~

Draco at first was of course quite baffled by Blaise's premature decision. Was Zabini a masochist his whole life or did he just now notice it? It's like he was trying to shove the picture of a normal idyllic family in not only his own face but also in Draco's. Like what was his problem? Did he really enjoy torturing himself that much?

It was already too late to talk some sense into said Italian, Draco thought, stepping out of The Burrow's fireplace.

"Welcome to our humble abode! I'm Bill" greeted a surprised ginger and outstretched a hand towards Blaise as he had been the first to arrive.

"Blaise Zabini," said the boy with the olive-colored skin as he firmly shook his hand.

"And you must be the young Malfoy then?" The tall handsome blue-eyed ginger asked as he hesitantly outstretched a hand towards him too.

"Ah, yes. I'm Draco. It's nice to meet you." Draco also shook his hand, albeit a little reluctantly and awkwardly.

Draco was aware of their families' mutual dispute, which had been going on for ages, but he was willing to try and lay it to rest for the sake of his friendship with the twins as long as their family was also on the same page, plus this particular Weasley was definitely easy on the eyes and the Malfoy heir was kind of both amazed and at the same time baffled by his dashing and cool appearance.

"Let me show you to the twins' room, which you'll be sharing, while mom gets breakfast ready. Ah, speaking of Mom, let me know if you have any allergies or anything of the sort, she wants to know as she'll have to keep them in mind for the following couple of weeks."

"I don't think either of us is particularly picky about food, right Blaise?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow and glanced curiously at Draco but agreed with said boy nonetheless. Draco was a picky eater, he just didn't know it yet because at their houses he had a choice between a couple of dishes at every single meal. Blaise was looking forward to seeing the usual constipated expression at the Weasley dinner table, which appeared whenever the Malfoy heir was faced with a new and awkward situation he hadn't been in beforehand. And with that Bill led them to their temporary bedroom and roommates.

~~~~

The next couple of weeks were filled with delicious home-cooked meals, constant bickering and teasing, pranks, and weekend family quidditch matches. All of this made all the bigotry his father had tried to instill in him regarding the Weasleys truly perish from Draco's mind.

Somehow every single family member had managed to warm their way into his heart.

Mr Weasley's obsession with all things muggle had been honestly appalling at first but it seemed to be contagious, at least (only) in Draco's case as he was also fascinated by what the human mind could achieve without the help of magic.

Bill had also taken a certain liking to him (surprisingly). He loved telling stories regarding different curses and his curse-breaking adventures, which the younger ones of the family loved hearing but none of them were as interested in as much as Draco was. He would always ask about the magic and spell-work surrounding ancient complicated curses and literally take notes on them. Bill of course as much as he wanted to fully indulge him would only breach the surface of the complicated specifics of said curse and let Draco try and figure out the rest on his own as it would be against his legal contract to reveal too much confidential information.

Charlie bonded with Draco fairly quickly. On their first meeting, Charlie teased Draco about his name, stating that it was in his job description to tame dragons with a malicious glint in his eye, which did scare the Slytherin boy, but the tension didn't last long as he couldn't keep up the hostile facade for long and broke down laughing. Since then the two of them would have friendly one-on-one seeker competition and constantly banter and bicker with each other.

Percy and Draco got close (if you could call it that) because of one mutual thing - namely they both had a tendency to be a know-it-all. One day Percy saw Draco chilling at their dining table reading a 2000-paged book regarding different types of poisons and their natural antidotes. Said book was definitely for students of the fourth year and above. Since then the two of them would read together only occasionally breaking the silence to discuss a subject that interested the both of them but probably no other person living at the house could fully grasp let alone comprehend.

The twins as well as Draco and Blaise were always up to something together. They would think of different prank ideas the whole summer and do test runs and trials in the backyard- something Draco would never be able to do at home and not be grounded for life, but as it turns out Molly as much (as she tried not to show it) had a soft heart, turning a blind eye most of the time and only making the group complete an additional chore or task for the household.

As the twins' only little brother Ron had been an object of their jokes and pranks a lot that summer. As much as the boy seemed dense he proved to be a worthy wizarding chess partner for Draco, which made said Slytherin bully him less (at least for this summer) no matter how annoying he got at times.

Ginny Weasley would often look at him blush and run away pouting. Draco got the message. She was probably confused by his presence as she had probably heard a lot about how snobbish and impure his family was but she also wanted to befriend him. Orion had a similar mannerism, only getting close to people after observing them for a while to make sure they weren't as bad as they were deemed before. Draco had been the same before meeting the twins, worse even as most people met his parents' description of them (most members of their social circle anyway). That would go on for a whole two weeks until one fateful afternoon.

With the majority of her brothers being keen Quidditch players, Ginny had an interest in the sport but wasn't allowed to play with them. When she was six, she began a habit of breaking into the family broom shed and taking each of their brooms out in turn. No one had caught her before so when Draco snuck behind her asking what she had been doing she was startled so badly that she lost control of the broom (George's one was at the turn that day) and it flew into a tree. As she was about to burst out crying Draco simply waved his wand levitating it down from it. After that, he promised her to never tell anyone her secret, which won him her trust and admiration.

~~~~

By the end of the summer, both Charlie and Bill had left the home and now it was also the guests' turn to go home.

"It was a real pleasure staying here Mr and Mrs Weasley. I hope our stay didn't cause any trouble for you." Blaise would say, glancing at his friend who of course had a sullen expression on his face.

"Not at all, dear boys! It was our pleasure to see our children make such close friends from school and to meet them." A tearful Mrs Weasleys would say as she had grown quite attached to the two additional troublemakers.

Even if at first she had been quite untrusting towards them, they had quickly grown on her as she could see the effects of their home-lives on their behavior. They were both too polite, stiff, wary of everything, and conscious of every single one of their actions, qualities children should not be forced to possess. So by the end of the summer, her heart definitely grew soft on the Slytherin boys.

As they parted with the whole family, Mr Weasley suddenly pulled them to the side and said something Draco would never be able to forget.

"I want you both to know that no matter what our families' relationship in the future is you will both always be welcome at The Burrow."

And that marked the end of Draco's second summer. Now it was time for him to face reality by getting ready for his third school year.

~~~~

Draco was honestly not having the time of his life. At first, getting his books and robes had been a fun family bonding time but the older he got, the more it would turn into a boring task he had to complete on his own. His parents insisted that Orion should come to the outing every single time, especially now that 'his dear older brother' had spent most of his summer away from home.

As soon as Draco entered Madam Malkin's his little brother started complaining about being bored so the older Malfoy boy got left to his own devices as the gremlin dragged both his parents to the Quidditch store. Draco sighted.

So much for a family outing.

Draco needed new robes as he had had a growth spurt over the summer and none of his old ones fit. As he was getting measured another customer entered the shop. He looked to be a first-year or even younger as he was small and scrawny, swimming in his much too baggy clothes. After witnessing his initial awkwardness Draco decided to start a conversation. Maybe that would make the whole experience a bit less intimidating for the poor first-year. (Judging from his confused yet amazed look he was either muggle-born or half-blood, Draco deducted.)

"Hogwarts too?"

"Yes"

"First-year?"

"Yes"

"Are you feeling nervous, excited, anxious? Man, when I was a first-year, I was so scared of being sorted in the wrong house. Imagine being sorted in Hufflepuff after generations of Slytherins, that would have been wild wouldn't it?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting, but he really didn't know what the older boy was talking about. Even if there was a bit of an aura of arrogance surrounding the blonde, he seemed friendly enough.

"Oh, look at that, it's Hagrid! Makes you wonder what he is doing here so close to the beginning of the school year. Reckon he's doing some errand for Dumbledore? " Draco asked absent-mindedly.

Hagrid was walking towards the front of the robe shop when he suddenly stopped there, grinned at Harry, and pointed at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"He is here for me" Harry answered.

"Is he a friend of your parents'? Are they too busy to accompany you?" Draco asked, suddenly curious about the boy's identity.

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, his eyes widening comically. His face suddenly appeared as though he had swallowed a whole lemon with the peel. "I shouldn't have asked. I swear I'm not usually that inconsiderate." He hurriedly said scratching the back of his neck.

"It's quite alright, you couldn't have known"

"What's your name? I'm Draco Malfoy. If you're having any trouble adjusting to school or with studying or with absolutely anything please do not hesitate to turn to me for help!" He didn't really make a habit of offering his help to anyone but he suddenly felt quite guilty over reminding the poor first-year of his family situation, who had probably already been sad because of watching happy families shopping together all day. He offered his hand to the shorter boy, who took it and shook it albeit slowly.

"I'm Harry"

And so Draco had a crazy thought.

Could this be... No way!

But before Draco could ask, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry readily turned to take his exit.

"Hey Harry!" Draco shouted at the first-year.

As Harry looked at him, Draco raised his wand stealthily, openinig a window, from which a light breeze blew inside the shop, exposing Harry's forehead. Said boy quickly rushed to smooth his hair over his scar but Draco had confirmed his theory.

"See you at Hogwarts!" He said smiling mischievously.

"Sure" Harry answered, glad to have made a helpful acquaintance, not making anything of their chance encounter.

Chapter Text

As Draco boarded the Hogwarts Express, he opened his book 'Rare Toxins and their even rarer counterparts' (the second of a trilogy) and waited for his usual clique to arrive. He had met up a couple of times with Adrian and Cassius, but he and Higgs didn't have a chance to hang out as their social circles were a bit different. (Not a huge loss if you were to ask him). Blaise of course arrived last (almost being late and missing the train).

"What took you so long? Did you oversleep or something? Eight hours of beauty sleep not cutting it anymore?" Draco teased him.

"Oh shut up, Malfoy, you're just jealous some of us have the luxury of sleeping more than five hours a night." He replied with a spiteful smirk.

"It's not easy being ahead of the whole year, you know. Also, even with this amount of sleep, I still beat you in the looks department." Draco snarked back.

Blaise huffed in amusement, which prompted the other occupants of the compartment to snort or outright laugh.

"It was the old man that delayed me. Apparently, he was emotional at having to send off 'his dear stepson' to school for the first time." Blaise explained leisurely, yawning afterward. It seems his chill attitude had only gotten worse since the last time Draco saw him.

The occupants of the compartment suddenly burst out in laughter. "Wanna bet how long this one's going to stick around?" Asked Higgs amidst a fit of giggles.

A chorus of affirmations was heard, and so the betting started.

"Twenty galleons that they are not going to last for more than a month. " Began Higgs tauntingly.

Soon everyone except Blaise and Draco had a turn.

"Honestly, I don't care. I'm relying on Draco for this one because if it were up to me to guess, I would say he should have already kicked the bucket." Blaise bristled kinda seemingly uncaring, but Draco could see that he was getting mildly annoyed at having his family situation be the topic of conversation and a source of entertainment for so long. He could badmouth and joke about it, but no one else should.

"I give them a year or more, and I'm betting a hundred galleons," stated Draco, unbothered to look up from his book

Like a bomb had been dropped, the compartment erupted in yells and protests.

"Wait, do you even have this much?" Higgs questioned scandalized.

Draco smirked devilishly. "Of course,"

~~~~~

Later during the ride, Blaise stood up, stretching his legs out.

"Let's take a stroll down the hall Draco, I'm bored." He announced, giving his friend a pointed look.

"Sure," He answered, closing his book.

"I want to come too." Said Higgs, standing up swiftly. Prompting Blaise to almost facepalm.

Sensing his underlying annoyance and predicting that this "stroll" probably had hidden intentions, Cassius stood up. "I'll come too."

As they went out into the hall, Cassius and Blaise exchanged glances. Swiftly communicating with eye contact only.

Get him away right now, please.

Sure, just don't do anything stupid.

Deal!

Cassius cleared his throat and said, "Let's split up and meet again after."

"Great idea," answered Blaise readily.

"Wait-" Higgs started to protest, but the Warrington boy was already pulling his arm in the opposite direction. ~~~~

"Wotcher, Weasels!" Said Blaise loudly, opening the twins' compartment door. He seemed more excited than he'd been in weeks.

"Oh no, Gred, it seems like we've been infested by snakes! What are we going to do?"

"Don't you worry, Forge, I've brought snake repellent! GO!" And suddenly both Draco and Blaise were being sprayed with some unknown substance from the tips of said boys' wands.

Draco swiftly waved his wand, making the substance turn its flow, now raining down on the twins.

By the end of the whole ordeal, they were all sticky but laughing joyfully at one another.

"Good job, you two, but next time, try to find a spell, I don't know how to counter"

"That's an almost impossible feat, oh great wizarding master Malfoy!" Exclaimed Fred bowing at 90 degrees towards Draco.

"Oh shut it, you prick!" answered a flustered Draco, whose ego had been simultaneously stroked but also it had taken a slight blow.

This prompted another session of laughter and giggles.

~~~~

"Did you hear who is starting Hogwarts this year?" Asked George amidst their discussions surrounding future mischief.

"Who hasn't? I mean, you have to literally live in a cave to not know." Blaise sassed back quickly, not waiting for the other boy to elaborate his question further.

"Oh yeah? Well, I guess you interrupting me means you didn't want to hear about our meeting with the boy who lived!" George answered defensively.

"You met him already! What was he like?" Blaise asked suddenly intrigued.

"Maybe you should go see for yourself since you didn't want to listen earlier." George said, sticking his tongue out childishly.

"Oh, come on! Don't be like that!

"I met him too." Draco, who was listening distractedly, while looking out the window interjected.

"So I am the only one who hasn't even seen him!" Exclaimed disgruntledly Blaise.

"Yes," they all said in unison, snickering at the Zabini boy.

~~~~

At the feast for the beginning of the school year, Draco clapped politely at every first year to enter Slytherin. As time went on, he was getting bored. He heard a couple of names that interested him in the slightest. A lot of his parents' associates had children who entered Hogwarts this year.

Finally, it was the moment everyone had been waiting for. Harry's sorting ceremony. Said boy had waved at him after exiting the Hogwarts Express, which Draco had joyfully returned. Hopefully, Potter would end up in Slytherin, but if he didn't, it was no problem. With entering puberty, Draco had come to a few uncharacteristic conclusions. Namely: It totally doesn't matter which house you end up in. Blood purity means nothing when it comes to magical prowess. It can even be a setback sometimes. There are good people in every house but there are also real pieces of work everywhere. (Like Higgs)

As Harry was going towards the hat, Draco noticed the nervous look on his face. Suddenly, their eyes met. Draco smiled encouragingly, lifting his thumbs. Harry took a deep breath and sat down.

A couple of minutes of silence followed and then

"GRYFFINDOR."

The whole Gryffindor table erupted in cheers. Draco clapped politely, which got him a few weird stares. But he glared back ominously, which made the onlookers quickly avert their gazes from his clapping hands.

Harry was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy, the Prefect, got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" looking over Draco and Blaise triumphantly.

~~~~

Draco had heard about his dear Godfather's antics in the first year's potions class. And he wasn't exactly justifying his behavior, but he also knew Severus had a complicated relationship with the Potters since they were at school.

Currently Draco was sitting in his History of Magic class, extremely bored. Starting out the window. He had already read the whole textbook, so it really didn't matter whether he was paying attention to class or not.

As he was gazing outside, he noticed a flying object in the distance. It was getting closer and closer. Squinting Draco tried to make out what it was.

It was a person! It was Harry Potter accelerating towards the ground! Draco took out his wand underneath his desk to intervene if needed. He didn't want to bore witness to a horrific accident with anyone, let alone with the Boy who lived. The Slytherin was well aware that it was probably the first year's first or second flying lesson.

Surprisingly, Harry managed to catch whatever it was he was speeding towards and tumbled lightly on the ground. Draco sat in the classroom, mouth slightly ajar, his eyes widened in amazement. He had never seen anyone so young do that before without much if any prior flying experience. Hell, such a dive would make even someone of his caliber sweat.

"Mr. Malfoy, could you please repeat what I just said? " Professor Bince suddenly stared him down with his milky ghostly eyes. Everyone suddenly turned to look at him.

Draco took a deep breath and weighed down his options. "You were talking about the Goblin rebellion, right?"

The ghost squinted at him. "Which one?"

"The one preceding the civil war?" Draco answered reluctantly. The chances that he came out of this situation were 50/50. Blaise was giggling next to him, probably not knowing the answer either.

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy." Said the Professor disgruntledly and continued his lectures.

" How did you manage to pull that off? You obviously weren't paying attention?" Asked Adrian, looking fully impressed.

"A little bit of luck and knowing the material by heart helps a lot." Draco shot back and returned to looking out the window, just in time to see Professor McGonagall lead Harry into the castle.

This is gonna be good.

~~~~

Wood seemed to be glowing with happiness, which initially puzzled the Slytherins. The twins had, of course, not hesitated to gloat in Draco's face, about their new seeker, how he was going to defeat him, and how Gryffindor would finally take the Quidditch cup from Slytherin. To which Draco taunted back, "I'd like to see you try."

Another gossip surrounding the first-years' flying lesson was that a Slytherin boy had caused the accident, namely Theodore Nott. Draco knew the boy, of course, he did. Their parents were close associates, after all. He never seemed to see eye to eye with him, however.

Theo was spoiled rotten from his birth. He was a sensitive crybaby and a scared cat, always hiding behind his dad. Later on, when he was trying to befriend Draco he was extremely polite and easy to talk to, but in hindsight, he often talked behind the Malfoy boy's back, spread rumors, and never shared his real thoughts. He and his best friend Pansy Parkinson were true menaces to wizard society.

Draco contemplated having a serious conversation with the boy because even if he hated in-house hostility and classicism, (which seemed to only affect the Slytherin house) he believed strongly in dealing with problems before they became real, like Theo bullying Harry. Theo was definitely trying to show his year, exactly who among all first-years decides what goes, assert dominance if you will. For Draco's year that was him and Blaise. The two of them never picked on muggle-born, half-bloods, or people from other houses. They would even reprimand their classmates about it and would explain it through the fact that such shenanigans could lead to them losing the House trophy. No one in their year dared to protest against such logic. Every year is different, however. But even then, the older the students, the higher they rank in the house hierarchy. The other deciding criterion is, of course, social status. Both of those places Draco way higher on the pyramid than Theo.

In-house hierarchy was something Draco hated. Slytherin was the only house that wasn't united but instead divided by social class and bloodlines. It bothered Draco so much, but as a third-year, he currently couldn't really do much about it, so he vowed that when he had the chance, he would try to change the system. It would definitely be hard, but he was ready to put in as much work as needed. He was done feeling isolated and antagonized by other students.

~~~~

Weeks later, Draco was again surprised and impressed by the Boy who lived. How could a small first-year even face a troll without fainting from fear?

Draco was getting excited at the prospect of getting to play against Harry the coming Saturday. Who knows how good he had gotten after being properly trained and with a good broom!

Blaise was giving him weird looks the whole week. "What's gotten into you? You are never this jittery or excited. You are worrying me, dude?

"I love having proper competition. I guess Cedric counts, but he isn't really that swift yet. He needs more training. But that boy, he has immense talent. You should have witnessed it, Blaise. No proper training, just raw talent, and a shabby slow broom, yet he pulled off a 30-meter sharp dive and caught that Rememberball!"

The dark-skinned boy facepalmed."That's what's been on your mind, I guess being good at academics doesn't exclude being an idiot. I'll believe you when I see it. Also, aren't you putting him on a pedestal? You are speaking way too highly of him, and I've never heard you say anything nice about literally anyone. Have you gotten a soft spot for him or something?

Draco made a rude motion with his fist. "You wanna die early, Zabini. Shut your mouth!"

Blaise snickered."If I did, I would have simply switched meals with Riordan."

"Fair enough." Draco chuckled.

~~~~

Before the match in the changing rooms, Flint pulled Malfoy to the side. "I want you to crush Potter, and I don't care about fair play, no going soft on your opponents, understood?"

"I'll do my best but no promises." Flint squeezed his shoulder harshly, made an "I'm watching you" motion with his hand, and went out of the changing rooms.

Draco sighted. The thing is, he loved the game, but more than anything, he hated seeing people get hurt, especially during quidditch. Maybe he was biased or had a trauma related to falling off his broom when he was younger, but he hated being helpless, watching people get hurt, and getting hurt himself. That's why last year during their match with Ravenclaw, when their seeker got really badly injured, which made him resign from his position in the team Draco has been one of the first people to go down and try to help. He hoped there would be no repeats of that today.

~~~~

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field, waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said once they were all gathered around her. She was, of course, referencing Flint with that one.

The game was intense. Everyone was trying to score. Angelina was amazing, but so were Higgs and Pucey. Until... A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Harry saw it, but so did Draco. In a great rush of excitement, he dived downward after the streak of gold. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch - all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch. They were simultaneously reaching for the snitch, neither slower than the other. And then- WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below -- Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life. Draco, who was floating near him, tried to help by offering a steady hand.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors. Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared again.

The game continued with Lee Jordan's shitty remarks, but that's to be expected. Couldn't the professors find someone more unbiased? In Draco's opinion, he was completely unnecessary. As Draco was absent-mindedly looking for the snitch, he didn't notice until it was too late that his rival seeker was experiencing difficulties.

It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. As Draco was about to ho and try to help, the issue seemed to resolve itself on its own.

In the chaos of it all Draco hadn't noticed but as Harry was speeding toward the ground he clapped his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick -- he hit the field on all fours -- coughed -- and something gold fell into his hand. The crafty little bugger had swallowed it! Draco barely dismounted before he started doubling over in laughter.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harry hadn't broken any rules, which prompted another laughing session but this time Draco was surrounded by his roommates, who were trying to stay serious and had been successful until now. At seeing his state their resolve crumbled and soon most of the team was giggling, uncaring about half of their house booing them and the Gryffindors. It was Draco's first time not catching the snitch since becoming a seeker. His first loss. But Merlin, what a memorable one it was!

~~~~

It was now time for Draco to return home for the holidays. He was having a great time. He stayed up telling his brother stories from Hogwarts. Ate dishes, cooked by his house elves, that had a distinct taste, which reminded him that "this is where I belong". Don't get him wrong the Hogwarts feasts were delicious but this was the taste of home. He opened presents with Orion receiving a beautiful new coat and dress pants from his mother and an engraved quill with infinite ink from his father.

On his last day home his Dad pulled him for a private chat in his study.

"Sit Draco." He muttered without showing any emotion. Draco complied but stayed silent.

"How's school? Heard you were top of the year for this term as well."

"It's good. I'm staying on top of my studies even though I almost had to get a time turner to attend all of my chosen classes." Draco answered still on guard.

"I also heard you lost your quidditch match against Gryffindor for the first time.

So that's what this is about.

"Yeah..." Draco said cautiously testing the waters.

"Is it because of Potter?" His father asked looking straight into his eyes.

"Because of Potter? What do you mean?" Draco said, confusion clear onto his face.

"I heard he lost control of his broom, did that distract you or affect you in any way?" His father asked seriously.

"Affect me? It was just luck, next time I'll beat him don't worry."

His father squinted at him, then widened his eyes and coughed into his fist. "Never mind then, you are dismissed Draco. Please go check on your brother." He ushered him out of the room

Wierd.

Wait a minute, was his father worried about him, because of his fall years ago?

And at that moment Draco was again reminded that his dad was like everyone else on Earth - a weak and biased human, who has emotions and fears.

~~~~

A few weeks after returning Draco heard about Theo getting detention with the Golden trio. He was not surprised but for him, that was kinda the last straw. He was going to talk with him after all.

Draco waited in front of the potions classroom. He had just finished Arithmancy and packed his books as fast as humanly possible rushing to reach the dungeons before the first years all went to lunch.

The Gryffindors came out first. They all went past him, whispering about his surprise visit. He just nodded at them as they continued walking, which prompted most of them to stiffen up and stop talking while some braver( more like politer) ones nodded back at him. Harry came out, followed by a girl with bushy hair and Ronald. He waved at Draco with a smile, which said Slytherin reciprocated without hesitation. Ron and the girl also greeted him, which he again reciprocated and eventually, they also walked past him. Theo emerged from the classroom, fuming, and was about to speed walk away without sparing a glance at the third year, but the Malfoy boy caught him by the arm just in time.

"Let's talk."

"There is nothing to be said between you two." Said defensively none other than Pansy Parkinson.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle also came out of the potions classroom and surrounded them looking hostile, as if Draco was gonna take out his wand and hex them so bad they would all end up in the hospital wing. (He could do that but it was definitely not the right approach if he wanted to get to the bottom of Theo's personality change and sudden aggressive tendencies.)

"It's none of your business, what I have to say to him, Parkinson."

"Whatever you have to say you can sag in front of us all."

As Draco looked around he found himself surrounded by the remaining of the Slytherin first-year students. They were all watching him as if he were a dangerous zoo animal ready to pounce. So he did the only thing he could to ease the tension.

Draco slowly put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand and handed it to Parkinson.

"Here, you take my wand and I promise not to hurt Theo during our conversation. If I break this promise you have the right to break this wand." She squinted at him distrustingly. He is a Slytherin after all and they always have a trick up their sleeves. After a brief hesitation, she took it, however.

"Come on." Draco said, pulling Nott into the direction of an empty classroom he had seen earlier.

~~~~

"I heard you've been bullying Potter and that you ended up in trouble because of him. Is that correct?"

"What's it to you? Did Potter tattle on me to you? Did he ask you to do this?"

"I asked a question, Nott. But if it means anything it wasn't Harry who told me."

"Yes I did spy on him and I did get detention because of it! So what?" Said angrily, looking down.

Is he... pouting?

The other boy was looking at his feet and staying silent but his eyes had gotten bigger and glossier as if he was about to cry. His lips were tightly shut and downturned.

Cute. Kinda reminds me of Orion.

"Listen, Theo" At hearing the nickname the first-year looked him straight in the eyes "I'm doing this because I'm worried about you. I hate prejudice but more than anything I care about the good of our house and its students. I can't bear to witness you ruining yourself for the sake of your grudge against Potter. What is it that you hate so much about him, did he do anything to you? I can talk to him if you want me to, tell him to leave you alone if you want. You don't have to bear this burden alone. I want you to know that you can always lean on me."

At hearing his earnest words without any hint of insincerity, the other boy couldn't help but start crying. (Hysterically at that.) One thing about Draco is that he was not very good at comforting people, especially crying ones, so all he could do was offer a polite hug. As he opened his arms Theo latched onto him and clutched at his robes as he continued sobbing.

A little while later, the crying first year had calmed down and was now silently sniffling at Draco's side with extremely red-rimmed eyes.

"It's not that I explicitly want to torment Potter. It's just that my father has been bothering me my whole life for being so reserved and shy. He wants me to have connections and be friendly but I never seem to be able to. So I thought Hogwarts was my chance to do that, but nothing changed. And then comes Potter. I tried befriending him, I swear, but that also didn't turn out well. On top of everything everyone is gushing about him and wants to be his friend. It's so easy for him. Hell, even you smile at him and you don't even do that for the first years at Slytherin." By the end of his ramble, the boy had gotten all flushed and started pouting again.

Draco chuckled. "I met Potter before school so we are kind of acquainted, I'm just being polite. He is also my quidditch rival, if you think about it, nothing more nothing less. Our relationship is not that deep, but we have one because I approached him sincerely. Have you tried to do that? You don't have to pretend to be tough or posh or whatever to impress people. Just be you. Also we as people feel shy or anxious, some more than others but everyone does to a degree so that shouldn't hinder your social advances. If you promise to at least try this tactic, I'd gladly be your friend, how about that?"

And just like that Theo looked at Draco as if he had hung the moon and stars. "Deal," he said and they shook hands. ~~~~

By the end of the week, Draco heard about Theo and Harry squashing their beef to everyone's surprise. And so everything was peaceful for a while.

~~~~

Every student had heard about Harry's impressive feat, so while his house.ates were disappointed at losing the end-of-the-year trophy, Draco kinda felt it coming. That's why when he was sitting, surrounded by the dejected faces of his dorm mates, he had no choice but to stand up and go for a walk in the hallway. It seemed that someone else had decided to do the same. It was Potter.

"Congrats on winning, I guess." Said The Malfoy heir politely.

"Next year, I won't let you off the hook so easily, so try to catch the snitch with your hand and not your throat this time." He drawled sarcastically.

Harry seemed to catch on that this was a joke, so he huffed in amusement. "Sure, and you try not to lose both trophies at the same time next year," Harry retorted.

Cheeky brat.

"See you after the summer, Potter."

"Sure thing, Malfoy."

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy was napping, not very peacefully on the Weasley-family's couch. Whatever he was dreaming of did not look very pleasant.

"What is going on with that poor boy?" Asked worriedly, Mrs Weasley, turning to look at her two twin sons, who had brought said exhausted boy home a couple of hours ago.

The twins looked at each other, chuckled, and shook their heads.

"You'll find out in a couple of days anyways" after that the two of them continued laughing while exiting the room, unable to stifle their giggles but still trying, in order to let the sleeping boy have his much needed nap.

****

Draco was small. His brother was still a baby, no older than 4 months. It was a chilly day, so he was cocooned in multiple layers of clothing and warming spells, curtesy of his mom. He was strolling mindlessly in the garden as he spotted something in the distance.

As he approached the figure in the garden, he realized it was his favorite house elf, Dobby. Since the baby had been born, his mom rarely had so much time to spend with him, so some of their previous mother-son activities had been distributed among the house elves. That's why it wouldn't be surprising to spot little Draco being entertained and cared for by a house elf. Amongst them, however, only one had been able to assist him in learning, and that had been Dobby. It's not like the elf could read or do anything in the academic sense. However, when it came to spells, the elf could always offer Draco his own understanding and visualization of magic. Draco found it truly fascinating. It may not be that close to how wizadrs do it, but it was an entirely new perspective on magic, and sometimes it was exactly what Draco needed to figure a spell out.

Dobby was sweeping the backyard of the fallen leaves but without using any spell for it. And even in young Draco's mind, it had clicked that it was probably because his family had punished the elf or he was punishing himself. Whichever case it was, didn't matter, what mattered was that the house elf's hands were bleeding from the cold.

"Dobby you're bleeding!" Shouted a distraught young Draco.

"It's fine, Master Draco, you shouldn't worry about it, Dobby deserves it.

"No Dobby you don't, you shouldn't be hurting like this, here, you should put on gloves if you are cold", said Draco stripping his hands bare of his own gloves and offering them to the house elf.

As he was reaching to give them to the shaking elf, said creature looked with fear straight above his shoulder. At that moment young Draco would turn around and be confronted with another emotion on his father's face he had never seen before, but will never be able to forget. Rage.

"Didn't your mother teach you on how to behave towards house elves, Draco Malfoy?" Asked his father calmly, only betraying his emotions through the shaking of the hand, which was holding his newly acquired cane.

" N-no, we... we still haven't reached that part in the etiquette curriculum yet." Said Draco in a small voice looking down at his feet, feeling exceptionally ashamed at that moment, as he had never experienced such extreme anger from his father yet. He felt like his eyes were about to water but he did his best to keep the tears at bay.

At that moment his mom rushed through the courtyard, reaching them just in time, but staying silent, catching her breath. She had probably seen what was happening through one of the many windows and had been in such a hurry to come down that she didn't even put on a coat.

"Take Draco and go inside, you are not in a disposition to be standing out in the cold dressed so inappropriately, just a couple of months after giving birth." Said Lucius in an even tone, barely sparing a glance at his wife as he focused his whole attention at the trembling house elf in front of him.

Narcissa nodded numbly, took Draco's hand in her freezing one and gently steered him towards the manor. As they were about to reach the door, Draco sneaked one last glance at the house elf, who was kneeling with his arms lifted as high as possible, not moving an inch, knowing if he did nothing good would come out. A lone tear slipped on Draco's cheeks as he took the scene in. As he saw the tear the house elf mouthed something, which resulted in his father's cane rising and whacking the elf straight in the face.

It's okay, it's not master's fault

****

With that, Draco woke up with a start. He had never had this nightmare before, as if his mind had tried to shield him from that exact memory. It was true that he had started avoiding that one particular house elf after a certain point in time, because of an incident when he was little, but he had forgotten the details surrounding it. Why did it resurface just now, the Malfoy had absolutely no idea.

By the time he had woken up, it was dark outside, which said a lot considering it was one of the hottest months of the year.

As he was pouring himself a cup of water in the kitchen, he heard a commotion outside. Not having anything better to do, he decided to explore, whatever it was it was way better than sitting alone and wallowing in his thoughts regarding his newly unlocked childhood trauma.

"Wotcher, Weasels," said Draco silently sneaking into the Weasley-family's garage.

The three Weasley boys jumped in unison, startled by having company at this hour of the night. "Bloody prat," whispered one of the twins.

"We are going to rescue Harry from his insufferable muggle family," blurted Ron bluntly.

"Why did you tell him, it was supposed to be just us three. Next time, it's gonna be just us two, it was a mistake taking Ronikins with us."

"If we're doing this we need someone with a lot of brains and common sense, not to be rude but that's neither of us three. Just don't let it get to your head," said Ron, turning towards Draco.

At hearing this he just straight up cackled, receiving a death glare from the other three occupants of the room.

"You know what, never mind, forget I said anything."

"No wait, I'll help, I swear I'll help. So what's the plan?"

****

Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked in mid-air, next to him sat an amused Draco Malfoy. Grinning at Harry from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron’s elder twin brothers.

"All right, Harry?"

"What’s been going on?" said Ron. "Why haven’t you been answering my letters? I’ve asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you’d got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles ..."

"It wasn’t me – and how did he know?"

"He works for the Ministry," said Ron. "You know we’re not supposed to do spells outside school –"

"Bit rich coming from you," said Harry, staring at the floating car, which earned a laugh from the platinum blonde.

"Oh, this doesn’t count," said Ron. "We’re only borrowing this, it’s Dad’s, we didn’t enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with ..."

"I told you, I didn’t – but it’ll take too long to explain now. Look, can you explain to them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so –"

"Stop gibbering," said Ron, "we’ve come to take you home with us."

"But you can’t magic me out either –"

"We don’t need to," said Ron, jerking his head towards the front seats and grinning. "You forget who I’ve got with me."

****

Everything had been going to plan thanks to the twins' lockpicking skills, until Harry had made the fatal mistake of forgetting his owl. Draco facepalmed, and Gryffindors have the audacity to get offended when being called empty headed.

All of this resulted into a tug of war with Harry functioning as a rope. It's a good thing the Weasleys had taken another person with them as uncle Vernon was at least as big as the 3 of them. In the end everything had turned out fine and they were now sitting in the car, making their way towards the Burrow.

"So – what’s the story, Harry?" said Ron impatiently. "What’s been happening?"

Harry told them all about Dobby, the warning he’d given Harry and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long shocked silence when he had finished.

"Very fishy," said Fred finally.

"Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "So he wouldn’t even tell you who’s supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"I don’t think he could," said Harry. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."

He saw Fred and George look at each other. Draco was looking distractedly through the window, trying not to let on, that he had gotten a sinking feeling at hearing all of this.

"What, you think he was lying to me?’ said Harry.

"Well," said Fred, "put it this way – house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can’t usually use it without their masters’ permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone’s idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"

"Yes," said Harry and Ron together, instantly.

"Theodore Nott," Harry explained. "He hates me."

Draco almost let out a snort right then and there. Theo could never, but then again why would one of his own family's house elves go through such lengths to prevent Harry from going to school. Was this one of his father's schemes? Draco frowned thoughtfully.

"Theodore Nott?" said George, turning round. ‘Not Ignatius Nott’s son?"

"Must be, it’s not a very common name, is it?" said Harry. "Why?"

"I’ve heard Dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big supporter of You Know Who, along with Draco's father here." With that he looked at Draco as if asking for permission to tell the rest. Draco startled out of his thoughts at being adressed and nodded solemnly.

"And when You Know Who disappeared," continued Fred, craning around to look at Harry, "Him and Lucius Malfoy came back saying they’d never meant any of it. Load of dung – Dad reckons they were right in You Know Who’s inner circle." After finishing he turned to Draco as if checking with him to see if whatever was said had offended him or not.

Draco just shook his head and sighted. "Your dad is pretty much spot on, he should check in with the Aurors, maybe the have vacancies, he would make a good investigator, I reckon." He said, chuckling bitterly.

Harry expected this comment to spark tension within the group, but the twins simply laughed it off saying their father is way to clumsy to be in the vicinity of any crimescenes anytime soon, let alone to handle one.

****

Mrs Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a sabre-toothed tiger.

"Ah," said Fred.

"Oh dear," said George.

Mrs Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.

"So," she said.

"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice.

"Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?"said Mrs Weasley in a deadly whisper.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to –"

All three of Mrs Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.

"Beds empty! No note! Car gone ... could have crashed ... out of my mind with worry ... did you care? ... never, as long as I’ve lived ... you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy ..."

"Perfect Percy,’ muttered Fred.

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!" yelled Mrs Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job –"

It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away.

"I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said,"Come in and have some breakfast."

Then she turned to Draco. "Draco, dear you look pale, are you sick, did Fred and George wake you up and force you to come with them, you should lay down."

"It's OK Mrs. Weasley, I just really need an hour of sleep and a shower.

She nodded, turned and walked back into the house and Harry, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her. Draco flashed the twins his signature smirk before heading in as well.

****

"Letters from school," said Mr Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you two are here, Harry and Draco – doesn’t miss a trick, that man. You two’ve got them, too," he added, as Fred, George and Draco ambled in, still in their pyjamas.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their let- ters. Harry’s told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King’s Cross station on September the first. There was also a list of the new books he’d need for the coming year.

As the family was busy eating and chattering regarding Lockhart's in Draco's opinion overpriced books, Percy stumbled into the kitchen almost squashing a familiar bushy owl.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally – he’s got Hermione’s answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."

"Oh, look he's got mom's Witch weekly edition as well!" Piped up Fred, sounding smug.

Suddenly Draco choked on his orange juice.

No way in the bloody hell. 

"Wonderful, I will read it after we return." Said Molly Weasley as Draco calmed down and sighted from relief.

"Why not now, reckon me and George could also have a look"

"You both have never shown interest in it, would even tease your own mom for being subscribed, why would the two of you suddenly be interested?" Mrs. Weasley asked crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe read the cover at least and you'll know."

It took her a minute or two to do that, but whatever was written brought out a loud gasp out of her.

"DRACO! Why didn't you say you are featured on Witch weekly? "

Draco just groaned and brought a hand up to his nose, pinching the bridge of it. "It's not that big of a deal. It was just something I did to appease my mother in order to be able to spend a week or two away from home."

"You look so handsome in those pictures, Draco.

Draco just mumbled a quiet thanks and lowered his head, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"Look at him! 'Slytherin's prince charming' as deemed by this virtuous article has been reduced to a tomato," the twins cracked up. The both were laughing so hard tears were streaming down their cheeks.

"Oh, stop it you two!" Their mom raised her voice at them.

****

As they were strolling through Diagon alley, Draco's mood had soured at loosing Harry and then even further at finding him as the boy told the story of running into Nott, Theo, his own dad and Orion at Knock turn alley.

What are the two planning together?

Draco would have totally left it alone if it was his father alone, but if the two are together then it most likely had something to do with the Dark lord or something of his. Why else would two ex-Deatheaters be selling something together? He let it go for now, but would definitely return to this train of thoughts later.

Later on he and the twins met up with Blaise and the four of them had a great time.

****

Draco's mood would however reach its lowest that day at Flourish and Blott's.

"Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?" said a voice Draco had no trouble recognising. Turning around and spotting Theo, Draco couldn't help it but let out an exasperated sigh.

"Famous Harry Potter," said Nott. "Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!" said Ginny. It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry. She was glaring at Theo.

 
"Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Nott. Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart’s books. 

"Oh, it’s you," said Ron, looking at the younger Slytherin as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you’re surprised to 
see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Theo. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot."

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started towards the Slytherin, but Harry and Hermione held him back.

"How unbecoming of a member of one of the Sacred 28 to act like this in public." Spoke up Draco, loud and clear.

Suddenly, it was Theo's turn to go red in the face. 

"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr Nott. He stood with his hand on Theo’s shoulder sneering in just the same way.

"Ignatius," said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.

 
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr Nott. "All those raids ... I hope they’re paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted, from amidst the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," he said. "Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?"

Mr Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny. 
"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard," he said. 

"Clearly," said Mr Nott, his pale eyes straying to Mr and Mrs Granger, who were watching apprehensively.

"The company you keep, Weasley ... and I thought your family could sink no lower –"

There was a thud of metal as Ginny’s cauldron went flying; Mr Weasley had thrown himself at Mr Nott, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backwards, knocking more shelves over;

"Gentlemen, please – please!’ cried the assistant and then, louder than all, ‘Break it up, there, gents, break it up –"

Suddenly, there was a loud thudding noise. Everyone turned around towards where the sound was coming from. There stood Lucius Malfoy, who cleared his throat loudly. 

"Gentlemen, please, that's no example to set for our children." He stated facing both parties and glancing down at an anxious looking Orion, who was almost hugging his leg in order to hide behind him. Draco almost chuckled bitterly at the sight, but bit his tongue.

I bet, if it were us two in this situation, he wouldn't hesitate but add more fuel to the fire, yet look at father now, acting all high and mighty "setting an example for Orion".

Draco shook his head. What was he thinking, it's better this way, if he acted like that they wouldn't loose face infront of such a huge crowd, amids which there were also Daily Prophet reporters as well. 

In the meantime Hagrid had separated the two. Lucius went to Mr. Nott, who was still holding Ginny’s old transfiguration book. He took it and handed it to her, carefully his face inpassive. 

"Here, girl – take your book"

****

After the week spent qith the Weasleys the remaining of the summer Draco spent home. He was either studying, reading, and flying in the backyard. Blaise would visit from time to time, but not for long. Everything was pretty ordinary, except something was definitely weighing on his father's mind and making him anxious. Draco had no idea how but the needed to find out. 

Yet he couldn't, his father was standing on the train platform sending his son off to school with the same thoughtful and on edge expression, he had sported the whole summer and Draco still couldn't figure out what had caused it.

Later that night, Draco heard about Harry and Ron's dangerous arrival, which had initially sparked amusement and earned a good laugh out of him, but the longer he thought about it, it was not a laughing matter at all. Something was not right, they wouldn't be so stupid as to miss the train also it didn't quite make any sense, Draco swore he had seen them at the train station, maybe not on the platform explicitly, but they were right there. Draco frowned something must have occurred right as they were crossing the barrier.

What the hell happened at King’s Cross?

****

Draco was extremely pissed. At whom, you may ask. Gildroy Lockhart of bloody freaking course. That guy was such a phony. There ain't no freaking way he had accomplished all of those things written in those books, not even like half of them. But then again it was extremely questionable if he was even the one who wrote the books as it seems the only parts he asks about in quizzes is the ones that have anything pertinent to him personally or his looks or how many stupid awards he had received for his dumb smile. 

After the disaster that had been Defense against the Dark arts with Lockhart, Draco thought his week couldn't get any crappier, but there he was laying on the Quidditch pitch, asking himself, why humanity even exists and why does he have to be part of it.

Theodore Nott had showed up the first practice of the season with his generous donation of Nimbus 2001s for the whole team. The little snake wasn't even good at quidditch, however Flint had no choice but to 'at least let him be a chaser'. How could he refuse such a benefit for the team, or so he said, but Draco was sure he couldn't care less, he just wanted a new broom. Because let's be honest here, Theo is just pants at quidditch no matter the position. 

He had gotten early because his brain had been working in overdrive lately. The matter with his father and Mr. Nott were bothering as well as Dobby's obvious involvement. He had been snapping at people all around him because of it and he felt shitty about it. He hated not knowing stuff but also being unable to figure them out on his own. 

As he was staring at the sky, almost dozing off due to lack of sleep, Draco heard footsteps and lifted his upper bod, supporting his weight on his elbows in order to be able to peer at the people approaching. 

Shit.

Well at least whatever may onset between the two teams it's gonna be entertaining, he thought as he headed back towards the Slytherin changing room, where most of the team were probably gathering.

****

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was larger than Wood. He had a cunning look on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

"But I booked the pitch!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint, "but I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practise today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Chaser."

"You’ve got a new Chaser?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six relatively large figures came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his thin, pointy face. It was Theodore Nott.

****

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," Theo spat.

Draco sighted dramatically and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was pretty sure everyone on the team thought of the girl, deemed as the smartest witch of her year like that  because let's face it, it was true that she was muggle-born, but saying it like that infront of two quidditch team is a line you shouldn't cross.

Flint had to dive in front of Nott to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You’ll pay for that one, Nott!" and pointed it furiously under Flint’s arm at Nott's face. 

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron’s wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass. 

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione. 
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap. 

The Slytherin team were paralysed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging on to his new broomstick for support. Theo was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, 
glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

Draco glanced at the laughing crowd around him, let out a whisper that sounded suspiciously like a cuss and stalked towards the red-clad team. 

"Where to, Malfoy?" Asked a less amused Flint.

Draco just threw a glance at the group of cackling knuckleheads, shook his head and continued walking.

The Gryffindors were eyeing him warily not really wanting to let him near Ron, but with the help of the twins the 'red sea' of people parted itself for him. 

He crouched next to the green looking Gryffindor, took out his wand, pointed it at his stomach, and began muttering under his breath. Most curses have something that diminishes their effects, but dark ones are usually really difficult to turn around. The three Unforgivables, for example, are unforgivable, not only because of their nature, but also because no man can escape their effects. Harry being the only exception, of course.

After a couple of minutes, Draco felt a bead of sweat row over his brow, which he quickly wiped. He hadn't really had to use most of those spells yet so he was kinda giddy to be able to, but also focused on not messing up. 

"Done. I think he should be good now, but I would definitely recommend visiting madam Pomfrey before deeming you hex-free." With that Draco patted Ron's shoulder, who nodded gratefully, before jogging leisurely back to his team.

"Malfoy!" Shouted Flint.

"Yes" Asked the 4th year Slytherin.

"Since you seem so keen on missing practice and would rather gibber with the Gryffindors, you'll be doing laps of the pitch until the end of practice, and I will be watching, no slacking of!"

Great, just great. Could this week get any worse?

****

Draco had heard the murmurs through the halls. Had the Chamber of secrets really been reopened? Then again the Slytherins were pretty much glad about it, but should they really be? Draco felt goosebumps everytime he thought about it. It didn't matter that much mow, however as it was an hour before Draco's first match of the season.

Flint had, of course pulled Draco aside before going onto the pitch.

"Malfoy, still refusing the Nimbus 2001?" Asked an annoyed Flint.

"Well, naturally, I prefer my old broom I've used to train most. Why?" Said Draco, faking innocence.

"Whatever, just know that if you fail going against Potter again, I may consider giving the Seeker position to someone else." Threatened the older.

"Do as you wish, Flint it's not like I could stop you from considering, however I think our Head of house is pretty satisfied with me playing Seeker." Said Draco before brushing past him intentionally bumping into his shoulder.

Flint remained silent resorting to clenching his fists and grinding his teeth.

‘On my whistle,’ said Madam Hooch, ‘three ... two ... one ...’

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, the fourteen players rose towards the leaden sky.

Both Seeker flew up above everyone else. Draco smiled and winked at Harry.

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting towards him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back towards a Slytherin.

Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack inthe direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Harry again. Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard towards Nott. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry’s head.

On top of that it had started raining. The twins were flying way to close to Harry, essentially blocking him. Draco was definitely distracted by the circumstances of the match and then the Gryffindors requested a break so he got completely lost in his thoughts. On top of everything, a rogue Bludger, someone was for sure messing with Harry and Draco only hoped it had little to nothing to do with Nott and his dad, but the chances are slim to none.

Flint took the time to give additional instructions to the team but especially to Draco. 

"This is an advantage it would be stupid not to utilize it, Malfoy," he said, patting Draco on the back, harshly as if saying 'Mess this up and you are cooked'.

As the match continued, Draco found himself impressed by Harry’s agility and persistence. He accidentally neared the younger in search of the snitch.

"You OK, Potter?" Shouted a slightly concerned looking Malfoy.

"Never better," answered Harry before twirling into something that looked like a ballet move on a broom, avoiding the rogue Bludger.

Malfoy let out a chuckle at that, but stopped Sensing a slight buzz in the air surrounding him. The snitch was near. He spared Potter one last glance before turning around just to see the snitch cascade towards the ground. Draco dived. He heard a resounding 'thwack' and nearly swerved out of his trajectory. The Bludger had reached Potter who was right on his tail. Draco's moment of hesitation had left just enough time for Potter to catch up and now they were neck and neck. 

They both reached for the snitch, but with Harry’s one hand being immobile he was only balancing on his broom with his feet. There was still no clear signs of any of the two having the upper hand everythingwas happening so fast. When suddenly Draco felt dread, he felt his stomach sink. He noticed a whistling noise at his side, it was getting closer and closer and then everything went dark.

****

Draco woke up to the sound of familiar voices. 
Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team was there to see Harry. Blaise was the only one pacing close  to Draco's bed, looking like a fretting wife waiting for her sick husband to wake up from a grave injury.

"Unbelievable flying, Harry," said George. ‘I’ve just seen Marcus Flint yelling at the Slytherin team. Something about having not scoring enough points to turn the game from the start.’ 

They had brought cakes, sweets and bottles of pumpkin juice; they gathered around Harry’s bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party.

Draco then decided to announce his awakening by opening his eyes, only to close them immediately and groan in pain.

"And he lives!" Yelled an amused George, which resulted in another groan of pain.

"Quiet you dumbass," snapped an unamused Blaise. "You OK, Draco? Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?" He asked concern clear in his voice.

Draco just shook his head, his throat felt dry but he was a bit nauseous and didn't want to drink water throw it up right after.

The twins had come over to his bed, he realized as he opened his eyes and squinted at the figures surrounding his bed.

"And here I thought there was nothing that could go through your thick skull, but a rogue Bludger seems to do the job just fine." Teased Fred.

Draco just chuckled quietly, when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "These boys need rest, one’s got thirty-three bones to regrow, while the other is healing from a cracked skull! Out! OUT!" Blaise looked back at Draco, like a kicked puppy as if saying 'It's not fair' but also sending him a concerned look. Draco mouthed a 'I'm OK, you can go.' And with that they were left alone.

Draco winced at the volume of her voice as she came over to him and handed him a couple of vials. "Now that you are awake you can take these as well. I've healed the fracture to the best of my ability, but you should stay for supervision tonight. You should also push yourself less, your body is exhausted and your blood sugar is very low. One of the potions helps with nausea, please try to eat or drink something after taking it. Also are you anemic by any chance?

"Yes, but it's pretty mild? Why?"

"Then, I fear you'll have to stay here overnight for supervision, just in case, Mr. Malfoy"

Draco just nodded and began drinking his potions.

"Hey, Draco..." Harry began uncertainly from neighboring bed "... you can have some cake and pumpkin juice if you want."

"Thanks Harry." Draco said and tried to lift himself up from the bed but it was no easy feat as he was still dizzy from just waking up.

With a bit of effort he ploped himself next to Harry. The two of them ate together in silence.

"I'm sorry that you got injured because of me," said Harry, not daring to look Draco in the eyes. "Also, I feel like my win was not quite fair as you were just as close to the snitch, if it weren't for that Bludger you could have been the one to catch it." Harry muttered, frowning.

Draco set his glass down loudly. Harry peered at him from under his fringe. He was ... fighting back laughter.

Gryffindors and their righteousness. How cute

Draco shook his head. "Look, Harry your win is totally deserved, you were bothered by the Bludger the whole game. Me being injured by it is not your fault, it's just luck, bad luck I must say, but still. You won, own it." Said Draco, grinning before he continued eating sweets.

****

That night Draco would overhear a very curious conversation in the Hospital wing.

So the one, messing with Harry is not father but Dobby. Interesting.

Dobby spoke about the Chamber of secrets. How did he know about it and about it being open. Did Draco's family had anything to do with it. Was that Nott’s and Malfoy Sr.'s masterplan? Did they know who the heir of Slytherin was and were they helping them? What was their endgoal? What were they striving towards?

If that was the case there must be something Draco could do to stop this. He just didn't know how yet, but he must figure it out fast because  whatever was in the Room, was paralyzing not only cats but also humans now. 

****

One day Draco bumped into Theo, who by some happy coincidence was completely alone.

"Hey, Theo why do you keep acting like a prat? Thought our conversation from last year was enough but it seems it wasn't." Said theMalfoy heir.

"It seems to me, that the pot is calling the kettle black." Snarked Theo.

"What do you, mean?" Asked, confused and mildly offended Draco

"Come on, Draco don't play stupid on me, because I know for certain that you aren't."

"You are insinuating that I've been acting similar to you in any way, but that couldn't be further than the truth." Draco crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in annoyance.

"Bullshit! You’ve been acting all buddy-buddy with the Mudbloods and members of the other houses, yet you're a prick when it comes to other purebloods." Fumed Theo.

"That's because purebloods have a reputation to uphold. I've been strict because I care about Slytherins. Acting out at a time like this while Muggleborns are being paralysed isn't exactly noble or aspiring behavior. Most purebloods may be outright mean to muggle-born students, because that's what we've all learned at home, but the thing is, in a society like ours we have to learn to at least coexist and be civil, who knows maybe in the future you'll have to work with them Theo, what are you going to do then, pull the 'Filthy Mudblood' card and be punished instantly, hm? You may not accept them, but we live in a world where you at least have to pretend not to mind them."

Theo frowned. "Is that what you are doing? Because it doesn't appear so.

Draco sighted. "Well, not exactly..."

"Listen, Theo I've gradually come to the realization that blood purity shouldn't dictate our lives."

Theo looked at him scandalized as if he had just grown a second head, but Draco stood behind his words. He had seen the way his father had been grasping on blood purity. He understood Lucius to an extent. When he had been young the Malfoy patriarch had been literally forced to pledge loyalty to He who must not be named and yet he and his whole generation of purebloods lost the war in such a humiliating way, the only thing that was left was their belief, in which they had become almost fanatic, in their strive to keep their dignity afterwards. It was like they were living in a different reality than most. What was acceptable in normal wizarding society was not normal to them and vice versa. 

"Take Granger, for example, isn't she muggle-born, yet top of the year?"

Theo looked extremely displeased.

"So what?," Theo huffed "that doesn't prove anything"

"It doesn't? It totally goes against all pure-blood l-extremists' logic. It literally proves that magical ability has no corelation to blood purity. It's astounding, really!" 

Theo just scrunched his eyebrows, shook his head, and turned away.

"You and your love for Gryffindors. One day you are gonna pay for it. " 

And with that Theo walked off finding two very confused looking Crabbe and Goyle at the end of the hall, who had unintentionally heard the whole conversation.

****

With the news of Dumbledore's forceful departure, Draco was getting antsy. He felt like he needed to do something, so he headed to the library.

He knew that if he wanted to know exactly what was happening, the right person to ask would be there. Hermione. She was reading on something. A book about mystical creatures as well as 'Hogwarts a history'.

"Hey, there, Hermione." 

She startled at being adressed.

"Oh hi, Draco, what are you doing here," she asked as he sat himself next to her, with a slightly flushed face.

"I just, I know you three have been investigating the Chamber, and ... I wanna know exactly how much you have found out and see if I can help."

"Oh, OK. I have a couple of theories. I've narrowed it down to a few creatures that could paralyse their victims as severely as that, but I can't seem to figure out exactly what it is and where it could be hiding."

"Alright, let's start by figuring out the exact creature based on what we know about it."

****

Draco couldn't believe it. The two of them had managed to piece the whole puzzle together in the span of a couple of hours. Granger was truly one of the brightest witches of their generation.

"Thank you for helping Draco, without your help, it would have taken me ages to sort through everything on my own and reach an adequate conclusion."

"But still it's all on you, Hermione. Without your insight regarding Myrtle, I would have never pitched the idea of the Basilisk. I still can't believe, that there is one here in Hogwarts.They are so rare. Under any other circumstances it would have been so cool."

"You should go tell Harry and Ron. You three have been 'investigating' and putting in efforts for months, haven't you." Draco smiled and got ready to leave the library.

"Wait, Draco, let's go together, it was both of us that figured it out, we should both take credit." Draco just shook his head and laughed.

"If you insist, Mione. Actually that would be better, knowing the two of them, they will want to go down to The Chamber. It's better if they don’t go alone."

And with that the two of them headed out of the library together. One minute Hermione was talking to Draco, next thing she knew, he was trying to shield her from something, but it was too late, ,she thought as she looked at the reflection on the wet floor. And so both of them fell on top of each other, with Draco managing to cushion her fall in the last moment. ****

"A pure-blood has been petrified" a Slytherin whispered. "Who?" Her friend asked, scandalized. "Draco Malfoy."

****

As Blaise heard the news, he couldn't believe it.

What did that prick get himself into to end up like that. Being the only petrified pureblood.

And with that thought Blaise went down to the Hospital wing. Unfortunately he was not alone during his visit.

"There is really no use in seeing a petrified person, as I've already said, but who is listening to me anyways." Muttered Madam Pomfrey.

"-There is something clasped between their hands."

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Ron leaned close to read it too.

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and ven-omous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry recognised as Hermione’s. Pipes. It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain. 

"Ron," he breathed, "this is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber’s a Basilisk – a giant serpent! That’s why I’ve been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. 
It’s because I understand Parseltongue ..."

"Impressive, Potter."
Harry looked up at the beds around him. It was Blaise, who had made his presence known.

"What do you want, Zabini." Asked Harry not particularly fond of being eavesdropped on.

"No need to be hostile, Potter. I'm just trying to visit a friend." Blaise said, going over to Draco's bed. He than just stared at Draco's pale face, which seemed to almost blend in with the white sheet he was laying on.

"Look, Potter," Blaise said running his hand over his friend's hair, lightly stroking it, as if said petrified boy was made of fragile glass, that would break under a bit of pressure "I don’t care who the person that did this to Draco is, Slytherin heir or not, I want them to pay for what they did, so if you need help with anything I'll be at you service, at least till Draco wakes up." And with that he left Harry and Ron to their prior antics.

****

As the year was ending word had spread around the school. Harry had saved Ginny Weasley and closed the Chamber by killing the Basilisk with the assistance of Ron and surprisingly Blaise Zabini, who had insisted on helping. However there was one thing left unclear. 

Who was the Slytherin heir.

"So – have you stopped the attacks yet?" he asked distraught. "Have you caught the culprit?’

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

"Well?" said Mr Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."

He held up the small black book with the large hole through the centre, watching Mr Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby.

The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

"I see ..." said Mr Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring MrMalfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here –" Mr Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look, "and his friend Ron hadn’t discovered this book, why – Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will ..."

Mr Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly mask-like.

"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have hap-pened then ... The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle’s memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise ..."

Mr Malfoy forced himself to speak.

"Very fortunate," he said stiffly.

"What about your son Lucius? What would you have done if he had met a more unfortunate fate than his current one, because you are pretty aware that there was a great possibility of that happening, right?"

At that Mr Malfoy clenched his fists, tried to speak but visibly faltered and looked down.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.

And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

"Don’t you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr Malfoy?" said Harry.

Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.

"How should I know how the young naive girl got hold of it?" he said.

"Because your friend Mr Nott gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts.

You picked up her old Transfiguration book, and slipped the diary inside it, didn’t you?’

He saw Mr Malfoy’s white hands clench and unclench.

"Could Mr Potter back up his claim with proof?" he asked looking offended.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. "Not now Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you or your affiliates ..."

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand.

Instead, he turned to his house-elf.

"We’re going, Dobby!"

**** 

Later Draco would wonder what had gotten into his father. His oldest son just woke up from being petrified, yet he looked pissed.

After being assured for the umpteenth time that his son was fine Lucius would leave. Apparently Narcissa had stayed behind because Orion, the little bugger had managed to twist his ankle playing in the backyard and was being a little dramatic about it.

That afternoon the Hospital wing would get full visitors. After checking on Ginny the Weasleys would dote on Draco. The twins would later on pull Draco aside to tell him the gist of things that happened while he has been out of it. 

**** 

Draco had just been discharged and was walking to his dorm when he bumped into Harry.

"Wotcher, Harry." To his surprise Harry wasn't exactly thrilled to see him

"Did you know about your dad's role in this." 

Draco bit his lip and sighted.

"It's not like I knew the extent of it. I knew he was up to no good, I just didn't know he was capable of stooping so low. I had no idea this was his plan all along, believe Harry."

Draco looked at him with his deep expressive silver orbs, and Harry could help it but to trust what he was saying. His eyes were so full of sincerity, the Boy who lived couldn't find it in himself to doubt him, also Draco had never shown any signs of having I'll intentions like his dad. He may sometimes be mean but it was all in good nature.

"It's OK, Draco I believe you."

"That's great Potter, but next year I want in." Draco looked at him seriously.

"You want in on what." Harry asked confused.

"You, Ron and Hermione, always in the middle of the chaos, alays a step ahead, knowing more than you should. Next year I don't want to be standing there and watching helplessly as the school crumbles. Especially when my own family was involved. Whatever happens next year I would love to be kept in the loop as well, please and I'll help out as much as i can, deal?" Draco asked outstretching his hand towards Harry. 

"Deal," said Harry, shaking the Slytherin's hand.

And poor Draco would live out his summer blissfully, unaware of what would be the outcome of said deal.

As the saying goes: Be careful what you wish for. 

And Draco would unfortunately turn into the epitome of it during the next couple of months of his 'Oh so short life'.

Chapter Text

Draco's father had been acting extremely cold towards him since the beginning of summer. His behavior change was abrupt, without any explanation, and honestly, Draco was getting tired of walking on eggshells around him, so after a few weeks, he decided to do the unthinkable and confronted him.

"Father" Draco cleared his throat, entering his father's office.

Lucius glanced at him unimpressed "I'm busy right now, Draco, whatever it is it can wait a little longer-"

"It really cannot!" Draco raised his voice, which he rarely did, even more rarely infront of his father. "This conversation is long overdue and you know as well as I do, that tomorrow is the day mother sends me off to France for the reminder of the summer so I can practice my French. My French, which both of you suddenly decided "needs a refresh", but we all know that's not true."

"You going to France for a couple of weeks is not up for discussion." Replied his father, not even sparing him another glance.

"Is this because of the Chamber of secrets, some sort of twisted punishment for letting myself get paralysed or something." Draco asked, not wanting to go there but being left with no choice because of his father's dismissive attitude.

Lucius looked up at him suddenly tensing, his eyes widening in an expression Draco had yet to see grace his father's face and then he quickly regained his posture twisting his lips into a hurt frown.

"Is that what you really think this is about. You really think so low of your father." Said the older Malfoy, gazing at his son expectantly.

"I- It's not like that. It's because none of you want to give me an explanation. I feel like I'm being ignored, like you both are keeping me in the dark, but more importantly, like you are ashamed of what happened last year. You've been holding me at a distance the whole summer." Draco answered carefully, his tone desperate, trying to make his father understand his point of view.

Lucius looked down putting his quill aside and twisting the fingers of both of his hands in a tight embrace. He continued staring down at his desk, breathing unevenly as if trying to find the right words but being unable to, and then he suddenly sighted and lifted his gaze to meet Draco's.

"I am ashamed-" and suddenly his son looked like the whole world was falling apart, like he had just betrayed his trust "but not because you got paralysed. It was because it was partly my fault that my oldest almost died, Draco, just because I obeyed the orders of someone, who doesn't even currently have enough power to hold it over me. It showed me how weak and incompetent I could become when it comes to protecting my own family. You almost died because of what I believe in, because of an ideology, which would in this day and age be frowned upon by most. I am ashamed that my decisions almost caused your death. It came as a shock to me so I needed time to think. I am deeply sorry for not confronting the issue earlier, but I felt like you would resent me for my part in it, an if you do you would have every right to." His father finally finished his rant staring at him again, waiting for an answer."

"No matter what you do, I could never resent you, father and you know that. Apologies accepted." And if his last sentencecame out a little choked up and the smile that followed up was a little watery none of the two mentioned it.

~~~~

Later that day, Draco realized that the decision about him going to France was more his mother's than his father's, if what Lucius had said was true.

As it seems one confrontation wasn't enough for him he later went up to her in the garden, where she  plucking some roses for the dining room' s table' s vase, one of her most prized possessions.

"Mother, I've already discussed it with father, however it appears my stay in France has been predetermined by you." He said, startling her from behind.

She turned around and looked at him with a exasperated expression. "We talked about this a lot, Draco, whatever you say, nothing's gonna change my mind."

"But why, why do I have to go. It's not like I need help with French or anything."

"Oh come on Draco, you haven't been to France since you were like 10. It's gonna be good for you." She said returning to plucking flowers.

"It's because of Sirius Black's escape or something?" Draco said, deciding he was done beating around the same bush they had been beating around the whole summer.

His mother suddenly stilled and dropped the rose she was holding as if burned by it. There was now a little trail of blood streaming down her hand.

"W-who told you that, was it your father"

"It wasn’t father, I am not a cretin, I can make the connection, mother" he said, crossing his arms and arching one eyebrow expectantly.

Narcissa let out a shaky sigh.
"Have you been digging into the family library again." She asked disgruntled.

"That and reading the 'Daily Prophet'"

"Look Draco, there are lot of things about my side of the family that you don't know about. I didn't want you to find out like this because I thought you were not ready, however I would much rather you know the truth from me than some old family journal or from the 'Daily Prophet'."

"OK, then tell me."

She then motioned for him to follow.
"It would be easier for me to show you."

~~~

Narcissa had led him to the Manor's attic, which Draco thought he knew like the back of his hand, however he couldn't have been more wrong.

She then waved her wand at a suspiciously empty wall at the back and a secret passage opened.

She did it wandlessly on purpose.

"Come in Draco" she called from inside.

As he followed the instructions, she hurried to close the passage after him.

So father also does not know about it.

The attic smelled of dust and forgotten years, but the secret passage opened into a chamber that felt alive with memories. The room was charmed against decay, its air warmer than the rest of the house, the shelves lined with old trunks and boxes stamped with the Black family crest.

Draco’s eyes darted everywhere at once. He had thought he knew the entire Manor, but this was something different—intimate, untouched by Lucius’ rigid hand.

“Mother…” Draco began, his voice hushed, reverent. “What is this place?”

Narcissa didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she moved with practiced steps to one of the trunks, her fingers brushing across the lock until it clicked open. She withdrew a thick book, its leather cover worn at the edges, embossed faintly with the crest of the House of Black.

“This,” she said, handing it to him carefully, “is a record of our youth. Mine, your Aunt Andromeda’s, Sirius’, and Regulus’. Before everything fell apart.”

Draco took the book gingerly, as though it might crumble in his hands. He opened the first page—and froze. Photographs of three young girls, all in Hogwarts robes, smiled and waved. Bellatrix’s manic grin, Narcissa’s composed poise, and Andromeda’s warm, rebellious spark shone through the moving images.

He flipped further, and there were the cousins: Sirius with his arm slung around Regulus, Andromeda laughing in the background. Ticket stubs to Muggle films, notes scribbled in the margins of parchment, even little sketches that could only have been drawn during long, boring classes. The scrapbook wasn’t just a history—it was a heartbeat.

Draco swallowed hard, his throat unexpectedly tight. “You… kept this?”

Narcissa smiled faintly, but there was sorrow in it too. “Your aunt gave it back to me when you were born. She said—” her voice faltered, just for a moment—“she said one day you should know you come from more than just Malfoys.”

Before Draco could reply, she reached again into the trunk and lifted out something draped across a hanger. A leather jacket, worn but preserved, the seams patched with mismatched fabric and charmed pins glinting in the dim light.

Draco blinked, momentarily stunned. It was utterly unlike anything he had ever seen in his father’s pristine wardrobe. It smelled faintly of cedarwood, smoke, and something sharp and clean, almost like cologne.

“This belonged to Sirius,” Narcissa said softly. “He gave it to Andromeda before—before Azkaban. She wanted you to have it when you were ready. To remind you that there is strength in choosing who you want to be, not just what you were born into.”

She held it out. For a moment, Draco didn’t move. The thought of Sirius Black—escaped convict, blood traitor, his own family’s shame—collided with the image of the smiling boy in the scrapbook, laughing with his cousins like any ordinary teenager.

Slowly, Draco reached out and touched the leather. It was warm beneath his fingers, humming faintly with old enchantments. He took it from her, folding it over his arm like a precious relic.

“Why are you showing me this now?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Narcissa’s gaze lingered on him, her eyes softer than he could ever remember. “Because you’re no longer a child, Draco. You deserve to know that here is more to our family. You carry Malfoy blood, yes, but you are also a Black. And Blacks… we choose. Whether we choose wrong or right, we make our own names.”

Draco looked back down at the scrapbook and the jacket, his grip tightening around them. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like he was drowning under secrets. He felt… connected.

“I’ll make my own name,” he said firmly.

Narcissa reached out, cupping his cheek with a hand that still smelled faintly of roses. “I know you will, my dragon.”

~~~~

Draco sat cross-legged on the floor of the attic chamber, the scrapbook open across his knees and Sirius’ jacket folded beside him. He flipped through another page, watching as a younger Sirius leapt into frame, pulling faces and tugging Regulus’ hair. It was so at odds with the image he’d been taught—that of a dangerous murderer, the traitor who had delivered Harry Potter’s parents to Voldemort.

Finally, Draco closed the book with a snap. His voice was cautious but insistent.

“Mother… if Sirius was like this—” he gestured to the laughing boy in the photographs “—then how could he have done what they say? Betray his best friend? The Potters?”

Narcissa, who had been silently watching him absorb the past, stilled. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her jaw working as if weighing how much truth to give him.

At last, she exhaled. “Draco, I need you to listen to me carefully. I have never once believed Sirius was the one who betrayed James and Lily Potter.”

Draco’s head snapped up. “But everyone says—”

“Everyone,” she interrupted sharply, “repeats what they were told at the time. The Ministry was eager for a scapegoat. Your cousin was reckless, arrogant, but he was never a coward. He would sooner have died than deliver a friend to the Dark Lord.”

Draco frowned, processing. “Then who—?”

Narcissa’s expression darkened, her voice dropping low. “My suspensions have always weighted on Peter Pettigrew. When the Potters died, Peter vanished into thin air. Sirius went to confront him, and the rest you know—the Ministry branded Sirius guilty, and Pettigrew… well, Pettigrew lived on in shadows.”

The name felt foreign on Draco’s tongue. “Peter Pettigrew. A nobody, a harmless witness to and in consequence a victim of Sirius Black's actions.”

“A nobody who knew how to survive by bending his neck to power,” Narcissa said coldly. “Mark my words, Draco—sometimes the ones who seem least threatening are the ones who get away with doing the worst. Pettigrew handed the Potters over because it bought him safety. And Sirius… Sirius took the blame because it was easier for the Ministry to believe that the arrogant Black heir was a murderer than that a simpering little mouse had outwitted them all.”

Draco leaned back, stunned. “So you’re saying most of the Wizarding Society has been believing such a lie?”

“Not an absolute complete lie, at least not everything ” Narcissa corrected softly, “but not the whole truth. That is the curse of our world, Draco. Truth twisted until it suits whoever holds the power.” She stepped forward and brushed his hair back from his face, her gaze searching his. “I tell you this because you must learn to look beyond what you’re told, to question. Even if it is your father who speaks. Even if it is me.”

Draco’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the scrapbook. The moving photograph of Sirius smiled up at him, rebellious and untamed, his arm thrown carelessly around James Potter’s shoulders.

For the first time, Draco wondered whether everything he thought he knew about his family might look very different when seen from another perspective. He knew his mother was not quite as conservative or as blood purity obsessed as his father but he never knew why. Now he had finally made sense of her lacking belief in the Sacred 28 and their power.

~~~~

Draco had gone quiet again, his pale fingers turning the scrapbook pages with unusual gentleness. He’d lingered on Sirius and his friends, even Andromeda smiling with a daring glint in her eyes. But then he noticed something else.

He frowned, flipping back and forth. There were plenty of photographs of Sirius, of the sisters, even a few group shots at family gatherings. But one face was strangely absent.

“Mother…” Draco said slowly, looking up at her. “Why aren’t there many photos of Regulus?”

The air seemed to still around them. Narcissa, who had been standing tall and poised, suddenly looked smaller—her hand tightening around the edge of the trunk.

“There are some,” she murmured, moving closer and peering over his shoulder. She pointed to a photograph of two boys at the edge of a lake—Sirius, laughing wildly, splashing water at a dark-haired boy who looked so similar yet so different. Regulus stood stiffly, lips pressed tight as if reluctant to join in the fun.

Draco studied him. “He looks… miserable.”

Narcissa let out a soft, strangled laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes. He was always the quieter one. More… dutiful.”

Draco tilted his head. “And? What happened to him? Why don’t I know anything about him?”

For a moment, Narcissa didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered on the photograph, her expression unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders sagged.

“Regulus was my youngest cousin,” she said finally, her voice low and carefully controlled. “He… he made choices that cost him dearly.” Her eyes glistened, but she looked away quickly, blinking hard. “That is all I will say, Draco.”

“But—” Draco began, frustrated by her evasiveness.

“Enough.” Narcissa’s tone was gentle, but it carried finality. “Some stories are too heavy to place upon your shoulders. Not yet.”

Draco shut his mouth, sensing the line he could not cross. He glanced back at the photograph of the boy by the lake, trying to imagine what it meant for his mother to look at it with such quiet grief.

Regulus Black. A name he would remember, though no one seemed willing to tell him why.

Then another thought struck him. His jaw tightened, and he turned toward her.

“If Sirius really is innocent, then why should I even go to France?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t I stay here? Doesn’t that change everything?”

Narcissa stilled, then carefully closed the scrapbook. She smoothed the cover with her palm, her expression drawn.

“On the contrary, Draco,” she said softly. “It changes nothing for us. If Sirius Black is spoken of, no matter the context, it brings the Black family back into the spotlight. And when the Blacks are mentioned…” She let out a sharp breath, almost bitter. “The Malfoys are never far behind.”

Draco frowned. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“You are too clever to ask me that,” Narcissa replied, her voice cool but tired. “You read the Prophet. You’ve seen how they write about your father, about me. Whispers of Death Eaters. Of dirty money. Of old blood clutching to old power. The Sacred Twenty-Eight may be ancient and proud, but these days it is a stain, not an honor, in the eyes of most.”

She stepped closer, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “That is why you must go to France. To keep you out of the gossip columns, out of the questions, out of the spotlight here—at least for now.”

Draco’s scowl deepened, but before he could argue again, Narcissa’s tone softened, almost conspiratorial.

“And… there is another reason.” She hesitated, then allowed herself a small smile. “An old friend of mine—Élodie Fournier—runs one of the most prestigious wizarding fashion magazines in Paris. She saw you featured in Witch Weekly last year. She was… impressed. Thoroughly.”

Draco blinked. “Impressed?”

“Yes,” Narcissa said, with the faintest trace of pride. “She remarked on your proportions, your presence. She said you reminded her of some of her most successful models at your age. Élodie would love to take a few photographs of you. Nothing improper—just a small shoot. But in France, where wizarding fashion thrives, such images carry weight. They could help reshape how people see you—not merely as Lucius Malfoy’s son, but as Draco. A young man with poise, refinement, promise.”

Draco’s chest puffed slightly at that, despite himself. “So… you want me to model now?” he asked sounding skeptical. Don't get him wrong he loved being praised for his looks, but the whole thing with high fashion, he never understood. Pureblood loved their fashion magazines and shows, however Draco never saw any appeal in it. Dressing well was a given as a member of high society, however he never like the extravance of, as the french say haute couture.

“Not simply modeling,” Narcissa corrected, with a delicate arch of her brow. “You are s Malfoy. One who shows the world there is more to pureblood families than whispered scandals and dark affiliations. This is not punishment, Draco—it is opportunity.”

He stood there, conflicted, trying not to show how the idea of impressing others—even outside Britain—ignited something warm in him. He had always liked attention, but this was different. This was… purposeful. Also changing the narrative, was something he had always strived towards.

And perhaps, he thought grudgingly, his mother had a point. It is an opportunity.

~~~~

Draco did end up in France, though he would never admit to anyone how secretly excited he was when the Portkey dropped him in the glittering heart of Paris. The air itself felt different here—lighter, perfumed with roasted chestnuts, fresh bread, and a language that rolled off tongues like music. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t weighed down by the Manor’s shadows or his father’s stern gaze.

Élodie Fournier, Narcissa’s old friend, swept him into her world as though he belonged there. Tall and impeccably dressed, with a sharp eye for posture, she declared Draco’s cheekbones a “trésor” within minutes of meeting him. Within a day, he was standing under enchanted lights in a Parisian studio, dressed in tailored robes finer than almost anything in his wardrobe. The camera—a sleek magical contraption that clicked with a soft whirr—followed his every pose.

“Relax your shoulders. Think less Malfoy heir, more…” Élodie tilted her head, searching. “More young man who knows the world is already his.”

Draco couldn’t help it; he smirked. The shutter clicked rapidly, and Élodie laughed. “Perfect. Voilà!”

For hours, he shifted through outfits—silken cloaks, modern-cut dress robes, even a casual ensemble meant to mimic Muggle fashion. To his surprise, he didn’t hate it. The camera adored him, and though he wouldn’t say it aloud, he rather adored the attention.

Outside the studio, he practiced his French daily. At first, it was clumsy—stiff and formal, polite to a fualt, but Draco was nothing if not determined. Within weeks, he was holding conversations at cafés, ordering pain au chocolat and discussing Quidditch scores with Parisian wizards. He even charmed Élodie’s assistants, who teased him in rapid-fire French that he quickly learned to volley back.

One afternoon, Élodie introduced him to her “most radiant muse.” When Fleur Delacour walked into the studio, Draco almost forgot how to breathe. She was ethereal—silver-blonde hair, eyes like polished sapphires, and a confidence that filled the room like sunlight. Yet instead of brushing him off, Fleur beamed at him warmly.

“You must be Draco,” she said in lightly accented English. “Élodie has spoken of you. She says you are… how do you say… un prodige in front of the camera.”

Draco flushed, though he tried to play it cool. “I suppose I can’t help it if the camera likes me.”

To his shock, Fleur laughed, not unkindly. “You are amusing. We will be friends, yes?”

They were, almost instantly. Fleur dragged him along to her outings with friends—other Beauxbatons students who gathered in gardens and tucked-away wizarding cafés. It was there, among laughter and clinking glasses, that Draco met Julien.

Julien was a year older, dark-haired, with a mischievous grin that reminded Draco vaguely of the Weasley twins—if they’d been French and devastatingly handsome. He teased Draco about his accent, challenged him in games of wizarding cards, and once, when the summer night stretched late and the wine flowed freely, kissed him under the lantern-lit trees.

Draco had frozen at first, shocked by the jolt of heat in his chest. Then, cautiously, he’d kissed Julien back. It wasn’t serious—Julien had other flings, other crushes—but it was enough for Draco to realize something about himself. He liked girls, yes. But maybe… he liked boys too. The thought didn’t horrify him the way it might have at the Manor. Instead, it felt strangely liberating.

The summer flew by in flashes of studio lights, laughter with Fleur, whispered French with Julien, and long evenings wandering Paris. By the time Narcissa’s owl arrived to summon him home, Draco almost didn’t want to leave.

Back at the Manor, the weight of England settled on his shoulders again. The Daily Prophet lay open on the breakfast table, but it was the letter waiting in his room that caught his eye. The seal was messy, the ink smudged, but the handwriting was unmistakable: Fred and George Weasley.

He tore it open, curiosity prickling.

Malfoy,

Hope France was all croissants and snooty wizards. You missed a hell of a summer. We went to Egypt as a family. Harry blew up his aunt like a balloon—Muggle one, not the good kind—and vanished off the radar. Whole Ministry’s in a tizzy. Thought you’d like to know, since we reckon your dad’s probably having kittens about it. Cheers, and don’t get too tanned, wouldn’t want you blending in with us commoners.

—The Weasley twins

Draco smirked despite himself, then frowned. Harry Potter. Even across the Channel, he couldn’t escape the boy's troubles. Folding the letter carefully, he tucked it between the scrapbook pages Narcissa had shown him. This year, he knew, things at Hogwarts were about to get even more interesting.
~~~~

Draco’s trunk slid easily onto the overhead rack, the polished wood gleaming under the carriage lights. The compartment smelled faintly of wax polish and the lingering warmth of the summer air. He had chosen a window seat, partly out of habit, partly to avoid the crowded carriages, but as the train lurched forward, he heard familiar voices approaching.

“Well, well,” said Fred, peeking in with a wide grin, “if it isn’t the famed French Malfoy! Did Paris do anything scandalously fabulous to you, or just make you stylish?”

“Stylish enough,” Draco replied, letting a small smirk tug at his lips, though he rolled his eyes at the twins’ dramatic entrance. “But not scandalous. Yet.”

George slid in behind Fred, carrying an assortment of sweets that smelled faintly of caramel and chocolate. Blaise followed shortly, his expression that careful mask of composure, though Draco noticed the faint raise of an eyebrow at the twins’ antics.

“I brought chocolates,” George said, waving a tin vaguely toward Draco. “Consider it a welcome-back treat. Nothing from Paris, though; those tend to be… questionable.”

Draco accepted the tin, nodding. “Thank you.” He even allowed himself a small smile, noting Blaise’s faint amusement at the exchange. The ride settled into its rhythmic sway, the click of the tracks beneath the train a comforting counterpoint to the chatter of other students.

“Did you really meet Fleur Delacour?” Fred asked, unable to suppress a grin. “Parisian wizarding celebrity, all beauty and blonde hair? Or are you lying to make us jealous?”

Draco leaned back against the window, the memory of the day grinning up at him like a mischievous shadow. “She is exactly as impossible as everyone says. And yes… she’s unexpectedly fun. Clever, quick, and not entirely infuriating.”

“Ah, you’ve found your French bestie, I see,” George said. “Did she introduce you to anyone… interesting?” He winked pointedly.

Draco’s cheeks tinged faintly, an unfamiliar warmth crawling up his neck. “Just… acquaintances. Nothing serious.” He paused, a flicker of self-awareness crossing his face. “Though, I did meet someone. A boy, actually.”

Blaise’s raised brow was nearly imperceptible, but it made Draco’s confession feel weighty. “Summer fling?” he asked evenly.

“Perhaps. Short-lived, certainly. But enlightening.” Draco smirked, the comment carrying more meaning than he expected.

The twins shared a look of exaggerated shock, their amusement palpable. “Malfoy, you’ve officially gone rogue,” Fred whispered, though with a teasing softness.

The train continued its journey, the countryside blurring past the windows.The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which graduily darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks.

---

By the time he had changed into his robes, Draco had slipped into his prefect duties seamlessly. The golden badge gleamed on his chest as he moved through carriages, the polished floor beneath his shoes reflecting the lights above. Students hurried along, chattering and laughing from compartment to compartment, grabbing snacks from the troley, unaware of the subtle shifts he noticed in the air.

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. Draco thought he saw a familiar face so he continued his rounds.

Harry, who had been nearest the door of his compartment, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. Draco decided to greet the Golden Trio.

"Wotcher Harry, Hermione, Ronikins." He greeted smirking, not letting on that he is also quite bothered by what is happening with train. It was not only highly unusual but it also crrated a nasty gut feeling in him. Something definitely was amiss.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"Hi Draco, do you happen to know what is going on", asked a slightly red cheeked Hermione.

"I am afraid I am as miffed as you lot." He said taking place next to Harry and glancing cautiously outside.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice. Draco felt her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then a thud and two loud squeals of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron --" "Come in and sit down --"

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"

"Ouch!" said Draco.
"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Movement could be heard in his corner. None of them spoke. There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the
compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him. But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it.
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Draco's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water... But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed their gazes, the hand was suddenly withdrawn
into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, drew a long, slow,
rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over them all. Draco felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest,
it was inside his very heart....

And then he felt it. Harry's form going lax next to him and he snapped out of his stupor, supporting him so the boy does not fall to the ground.

'A dementor', he thought.

Draco had only ever read books about them. Never seen even a picture of them however the description was enough for him to realize what had just happened.

After the professor had taken care of the dementor, Draco gently shook Harry, whose head laid on his shoulder.

Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking -- the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished. "What happened? Where's that -- that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. Ginny looked back at him, very pale. Draco was watching him with concern on his face, looking quite unaffected for the naked eye. However, his leg was slightly twitching nervously.

"But I heard screaming --"

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece.

"Eati t. It'll help."

Harry took the chocolate but didn't eat it.

"What was that thing?" he asked Lupin.

"A dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else.

"One of the dementors of Azkaban."

Everyone stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.
"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me."

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously.

"I Don't get it.... What happened?" said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face.

"Well -- that thing -- the dementor -- stood there and looked around (Imean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) -- and you -- you"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still
looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and almost fell out of your seat and started twitching, however Draco caught you."

"And Professor Lupin stepped past you both and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at
it, and it turned around and sort of glided away.... "

"It felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again...."

Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Harry felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.
"But didn't any of you -- almost fall off your seats?" said Harry awkwardly.

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking
like mad, though...."

Draco stood up, shakily biting down on the chocolate. He couldn't quite taste it at first, but as he chewed, he felt a bit better.

"Look, Harry the thing about dementors is that they affect people differently. You shouldn't feel bad about what happened, alright? Now, if everyone's doing better I need to check on the first- and second year's to see if they are doing alright." Draco said hastily and hurried out after receiving a confirming nod from the group.

Upon going into the hallway he passed professor Lupin.

"Doing alright Mr. Malfoy?" Asked the older man

"Yes, proffessor," he said before trying to swiftly move on.

"If there is anything bothering you about what just happened, you can always come to me to talk about it, later." Said the Professor after him, but Draco was already a good distance away from him.

~~~~

Draco paused in the hallway, leaning lightly against the cool, polished wall, trying to steady his breathing. The remnants of that icy dread still clung to his chest, the shadow of the dementor lingering far longer than it should have. His fingers brushed over the golden prefect badge on his robes almost absentmindedly, a reminder that he was supposed to be composed, authoritative—but inside, he felt unmoored.

A memory, sharp and unwelcome, clawed its way forward.

He was thirteen, sitting stiffly in Professor Sinistra’s cramped office, wand gripped tightly in his pale hand. His tutor’s patience had always been measured, her stern gaze never cruel but unyielding. She had assigned him the Patronus Charm months ago, insisting that no student of his age should struggle indefinitely.

“Concentrate, Draco,” she had said, voice clipped but controlled. “Happiness. Focus on your happiest memory. Now cast.”

He had closed his eyes, trying desperately to summon the image that once brought him joy—his first broomstick lesson, the exhilarating flight, the wind slicing past his cheeks. He raised his wand and whispered the incantation, voice trembling slightly, “Expecto Patronum.”

Nothing happened. He thought about different moments in his life. Orio's birth, meeting Blaise and the twins.

Again. And again.

Each failure was worse than the last. His frustration mounted, twisting into shame as he saw the faintest flicker of disappointment in his tutor’s eyes.

“Draco,” she had said sharply after what felt like hours, “you are letting your heaf dictate your magic. A Patronus cannot be conjured from hesitation or doubt. You must commit yourself fully, or it will never take form.”

He had nodded mutely, cheeks burning, but deep down he knew the truth: no matter how hard he tried, he had never managed more than a faint wisp, a ghostly vapor that vanished before it could take shape.

“Again tomorrow,” she had instructed, her voice firm but not unkind. “And the day after that.”

And he had tried, every single day, until the lessons blurred into weeks. But the silver light never solidified. The bright, protective animal that others could conjure so effortlessly eluded him completely.

The memory faded into the present, but the sense of inadequacy remained. He shook his head, trying to banish the lingering guilt. It wasn’t that he hadn’t practiced—it was that something about him, something deep and stubborn, refused to bend to the spell.

Draco exhaled slowly. The memory was raw, a reminder that even with all his talent, there were things he could not control, powers he could not command. The Patronus had become a symbol of that limitation, a constant thorn in his pride.

And yet… he could still act, still protect, still make a difference in his own way. He might never produce a shimmering, silvery guardian, but he could support and guide the younger students, and act decisively when fear threatened to take hold.

Wiping his hand along his robes, he straightened his shoulders and continued down the corridor, wand at the ready. The corridor was quiet, the echoes of distant footsteps fading, but the lesson lingered: some things could not be forced, only faced.

And perhaps facing them—dementors, darkness, the unknown—was a form of strength all its own.

~~~~

After the Welcoming dinner Draco had been pissed, having to break up a fight between two fourth year girls as a newly appointed prefect. On top of that his head had been about to burst yesterday. He was apparently really bothered by the way he froze up when the dementor appeared. He had gotten up out of bed and went down by the lake trying to think up of times when he felt happiest, but nothing had led to him casting a corporate patronus.

All of this resulted into him going to breakfast later than usual. He was however just on time to witness Nott teasing Potter about the dementor. He had absolutely no idea what came over him, maybe it was lack of sleep or frustration because of the patronus situation but Draco was not in the mood to let him off the hook.

Nott was doing a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and
there was a roar of laughter.

"What's up with you, Harry?"

"Nott," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.
George looked up in time to see Nott pretending to faint with terror again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came runing into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Nott.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things,
those dementors...."

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice.

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking.... They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Nott looks after our first Quidditch
match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the
season, remember?"

"Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!" Yelled Parkinson from the other side.

“Shut up, Parkinson,” Draco snapped, who had finally made his way to the table, his voice cutting through the din like a well-aimed spell. Heads turned in their direction, students pausing mid-bite, mid-laugh. Even Potter looked up, startled by Draco's apparent bad mood, as he was yet to see him not playful, smiling or teasing.

Nott froze, lips forming an exaggerated ‘O’. “What—what’s that supposed to mean, Malfoy? Now that you are prefect you think you can just order us around?”

Draco took a measured step closer, his usual cool composure tempered by a flash of irritation. “It means,” he said slowly, deliberately, “that laughing at someone for being affected by a Dementor is disgraceful, childish, and frankly—pathetic. Next time i hear something like that coming out of your mouth you will be properly reprimanded.” He said, casually adjusting his prefect badge.

“And if you value whatever dignity you think you have left, I suggest you keep that ridiculous act to yourself."

Sitting on the Gryffindor table Fred let out a low whistle.

"What do you think has gotten Malfoy’s panties in a twist, so badly, Forge?"

"I don’t know Gred but I certainly hope it's here to stay."

The both of them burst into laughter.

~~~~

The library was nearly silent, save for the scratch of quills and the faint flick of candlelight. Draco’s books were spread over three chairs, neat but numerous: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Charms. He’d been drilling O.W.L.-level spells since dinner, and the ink smudges on his fingers were a badge of stubbornness rather than carelessness.

But the Patronus still refused him.

He shut the textbook with a quiet thud. Expecto Patronum. The incantation looped in his head like a dare. He could ace every written exam, yet this one spell—this one expression of light—remained a mocking gap in his skill.

When the clock in the library chimed eleven, he slipped his wand into his sleeve and left. Filch and his wretched cat were nowhere in sight. Being older than most of the fifth years gave him some leeway; still, sneaking out at night carried a thrill he refused to name.

The grounds were silver under a waning moon, frost glimmering along the grass. He found his usual spot near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, far enough from Hagrid’s hut to be alone but close enough to dart back if someone appeared. He closed his eyes, pictured the rush of wind from his first Quidditch match, raised his wand.

“Expecto Patronum.”

A wisp, thin as smoke, flickered at the tip of his wand and died.

He let out a frustrated breath, lowering his arm. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “I’m practically rewriting my family legacy and I can’t even manage a bloody Patronus.”

A soft sound—almost a meow—made him start. Out of the shadows padded a ginger cat with a bottlebrush tail and intelligent, lamp-like eyes. Crookshanks, Granger’s strange half-Kneazle. He came right up to Draco without hesitation, tail swishing.

“What are you doing out here?” Draco murmured, crouching. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping on a stack of books somewhere?”

Crookshanks butted his head against Draco’s knee. Draco blinked, then tentatively scratched behind the cat’s ears. The fur was warm, a little coarse, but the purr that rose from the animal was genuine.

“You’re a peculiar one,” he said softly. “Like you know more than you’re letting on.”

Crookshanks turned, glancing toward the edge of the trees, then looked back at Draco with an almost deliberate stare. He padded a few steps into the darkness, paused, tail flicking. When Draco didn’t move, he gave a low, insistent chirrup.

Draco straightened slowly. “You want me to follow you?” he asked, half to himself. Crookshanks trotted ahead again, deeper into the treeline, glancing back once more.

Draco hesitated. The Forbidden Forest at night was no place for a prefect—or anyone sane—but curiosity burned away his caution. He moved after the cat, wand loose at his side.

They wound through a tangle of gnarled roots and whispering leaves until the trees opened into a small clearing. Moonlight pooled there like water, and in the centre lay a shape so dark it seemed carved from the night itself.

A massive black dog—matted fur, gaunt ribs, a limp in one hind leg—lifted its head weakly as Draco stepped closer. Its eyes were pale and fever-bright, its breath shallow.

Draco stopped dead. “Merlin’s beard,” he whispered. “A Grim…”

Every tale he’d ever read as a child rose in his mind—omens of death, harbingers of doom—but the creature before him looked less like a herald of darkness and more like a wounded stray. There was blood on its flank, dried and crusted, and its paws were cracked from travel.

The dog gave a low, uncertain whine.

Draco’s throat tightened. Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee. “Easy,” he murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Crookshanks sat a few feet away, tail wrapped neatly around his paws, watching.

Draco reached into his cloak pocket and withdrew the remnants of a ham sandwich he’d meant to eat while studying. He held it out, palm flat. The dog sniffed, then, with a shuddering hunger, snatched it and swallowed.

“Thought so,” Draco murmured. “Hungry, aren’t you? You poor brute.”

His wand hand hovered uncertainly, then he whispered, “Tergeo.” The blood on the dog’s flank lifted away in a faint shimmer. Another whispered charm cleaned the fur; he dared not try a healing spell without knowing what hurt it, but at least he could offer some comfort.

The dog shivered once, then pressed its massive head against his knee, just for an instant. Draco stilled, caught between awe and pity. Up close, it smelled of wet earth and something sharp, like ozone, but there was a mind behind those eyes—alert, wounded, wary.

“They call you a Grim,” he said softly, stroking the rough fur. “An omen. A monster. But you’re just… you’re just lost, aren’t you?”

The dog’s tail thumped once against the ground.

Draco swallowed. “I know what that’s like.”

He stayed like that for a long time, crouched in the moonlight with the battered animal, his prefect’s badge glinting faintly in the dark. Crookshanks curled beside them, purring like a low drumbeat. In that moment, the Forbidden Forest didn’t feel quite so forbidding. It felt like a secret.

“Don’t worry,” Draco murmured at last. “I won’t tell anyone. Come back here tomorrow night, and I’ll bring more food. We’ll get you better. We’ll prove them wrong.”

The dog lifted its head just enough to meet his gaze. For a heartbeat, Draco thought he saw something almost human flicker there—gratitude, maybe, or surprise. Then it lowered its head again, exhausted.

Draco rose quietly, brushing dirt from his robes. “Rest. I’ll be back,” he promised.

Crookshanks twined around his legs once before darting ahead, leading him out of the clearing. When Draco finally stepped back onto the open grounds of Hogwarts, his wand still in hand, he felt the faintest wisp of silver spark at its tip—like the beginning of a Patronus that hadn’t yet chosen its shape.

~~~~

The next night the castle was locked in winter’s grip. A bitter wind rattled the windows of the library as Draco packed his satchel. He stuffed a small parcel of roast chicken into it, along with a thick flask of hot chocolate pilfered from the kitchens. His fingers lingered on the worn leather jacket folded on his chair.

Sirius’ jacket. The one his mother had given him from the hidden trunk.

He hesitated. The dog had looked half-frozen last night, bones like knives under its fur. Without giving himself time to question the impulse, he rolled the jacket carefully and tucked it under his arm.

Slipping out past the dozing portraits, he crossed the grounds to the tree line, breath steaming white in the dark. Crookshanks was waiting as before, tail flicking impatiently. Without a sound he led Draco through the winding paths into the same moon-silvered clearing.

The dog was there, curled tightly in a nest of leaves and snow. It raised its head sluggishly when Draco approached, eyes wary but soft. A tremor ran through its body with each breath.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Draco murmured, crouching beside it. “Let’s see if I can help.”

He drew his wand and whispered, “Episkey.” A faint green glow passed from the tip into the torn flank; the crusted wound sealed a little, bleeding slowed. Another charm, “Calefacio,” warmed the air around them, lifting a thin mist of frost. Only then did he open the parcel and offer a chunk of chicken. The dog devoured it without hesitation.

“You’re still freezing.”

He opened the parcel first, offering a chunk of chicken. The dog devoured it without hesitation, licking his fingers once before curling back down. Its shivers hadn’t stopped.

Draco unrolled the jacket, the smell of cedarwood and smoke rising like memory. “This is ridiculous,” he said softly, half to himself. “But you need it more than I do.”

He draped the jacket gently over the dog’s back. The heavy leather all but swallowed its thin frame, but the creature gave a low rumble of satisfaction, curling deeper into the warmth. Draco’s hand stayed on its side a moment longer than necessary, fingers buried in rough fur.

The wind gusted, biting through Draco’s robes. He shivered. The dog lifted its head, nudging at him with its nose, as if sensing his discomfort. Before Draco could retreat, the animal shifted awkwardly, pressing its body closer to his.

“Oh,” Draco breathed, startled. “Alright then…”

He sat down beside it, pulling his cloak tighter and letting the dog’s warmth seep into him. The leather jacket smelled like his mother’s attic, like family and defiance. The dog smelled of earth and rain. Together, pressed shoulder to shoulder, the scents mingled strangely comforting.

For a long while they stayed like that—boy and dog, huddled against the cold under the ghostly trees. Draco found himself speaking in a low murmur, not sure why, but the words spilled out anyway.

“They all think you’re dangerous. A Grim. An omen. They said the same about my cousin, you know. Different reasons, but still. Sometimes I think this world just… decides who you are, and then you never get a say again.”

The dog’s tail gave a faint thump under the jacket. Its pale eyes met his, steady and unblinking.

Draco sighed. “I’m trying to be better than that. To choose my own name, my own path. Not just Malfoy. Not just Black. But it’s hard.”

He looked away quickly, embarrassed. “Listen to me, confiding in a stray. You probably don’t understand a word.”

But the dog leaned into him, heavy and warm, pressing its head briefly against his shoulder. Something loosened in Draco’s chest. He wrapped an arm around the animal almost without thinking, and for the first time in weeks, the icy knot of frustration and loneliness eased.

Above them the branches swayed, shedding a drift of snowflakes that glittered in the moonlight. At Draco’s feet, his wand gave a faint spark, a silvery shimmer curling out for the briefest heartbeat before fading again—like a Patronus testing the air.

Draco didn’t notice. He only tightened the jacket around the dog and whispered, “We’ll get through winter, you and I.”

~~~~

As time passed Draco heard about what happened wit the 'Fat Lady' and the Gryffindors. Sirius was lurking somewhere in the castle and Draco didn't know why. What was his cousin searching for, because judging from what he knew it was not Harry, that Sirius was after.

Draco had also received notice from Flint that they were not playing, which had frustrated him to no end because the captain's excuse had been Nott's stupid injury.

Draco, still Seeker and still itching to fly, found himself on the sidelines while Gryffindor scraped a loss against Hufflepuff in a rainstorm and a win, against Ravenclaw, who trounced the badgers a week later. He read the match write-ups at breakfast, jaw tight.

“We should be on the board by now,” he muttered to Blaise and the twins, tossing down his toast. “We’d have slaughtered Ravenclaw if Nott hadn’t gone and played with the big bird. I also have a feeling he is milking his scratch a little too much for my liking.”

The others only smirked. “All the more time to practise,” one of the twins said. But Draco hated waiting. Quidditch had always been his escape; now, grounded, he buried himself deeper in O.W.L. revision and Patronus drills at night.

December crept in, frosting the windows of the Slytherin common room and coating the pitch in ice.

When the Hogwarts Express steamed south for the holidays, Draco joined the throng heading home. Malfoy Manor was quiet under a dusting of snow. His mother filled the drawing rooms with evergreen and candles, but she watched him as if weighing some unspoken question. He spent most evenings practising wandwork in the library or leafing through the family scrapbook she had given him, Sirius’ old jacket folded at the foot of his bed like a secret.

He returned to Hogwarts in January hungry for the postponed match and ready to test the “Grim” in the Forest again. But the atmosphere had shifted during the later part of the month. Rumours slithered through the corridors like cold draughts. A Gryffindor fourth-year swore she’d seen a “massive black dog” prowling near the Whomping Willow. Another whispered that Harry Potter had woken in his dormitory to find Sirius Black standing over Weasley’s bed with a knife.

Draco folded the Prophet shut, the photograph of Black glowering up at him. His stomach felt oddly hollow. He thought of the dog in the clearing, the way its eyes had met his, the warmth of its body under Sirius’ jacket.

Everyone else called it an omen, a murderer, a monster. Draco, staring at the flickering candle on the Slytherin table, wasn’t so sure.

~~~~

The moon hung low and full over the grounds when Draco slipped out of the castle again. Crookshanks had already begun shadowing him at night, padding along like a ginger sentinel. The air was knife-sharp; his breath rose in little plumes as he crossed the frozen lawn, Sirius’ jacket folded under his arm.

He found the dog waiting at the edge of the Forest, darker than the shadows, its pale eyes glinting. Tonight it didn’t look as sickly. It rose when he approached, gave a low bark that sounded almost like a word, and padded away from the trees.

“You’re not staying in the clearing?” Draco murmured. “Where are we going?”

The dog looked back once, then trotted toward the heart of the grounds. Crookshanks followed without hesitation. Draco hesitated only a heartbeat before going after them, his wand loose at his side.

They crossed the lawn in silence, past the frozen lake, until the great contorted bulk of the Whomping Willow loomed ahead. Its branches swayed restlessly though no wind touched them, leaves whispering in a language of warning. Draco stopped at the edge of its reach.

“Brilliant,” he muttered. “You’ve led me to the most homicidal tree on campus.”

The dog stood just out of reach of the lashing branches, looking back at him, eyes steady. Then it did something unexpected: it nosed at the base of the trunk, pawing at a gnarled root until a dark opening yawned just visible beneath.

“A tunnel…” Draco whispered.

The dog backed away from the entrance, and before his eyes the massive shape shuddered and folded inward. Fur retreated, limbs straightened. In an instant a gaunt man in tattered robes crouched where the Grim had been, dark hair matted, grey eyes startling in the moonlight.

Draco’s breath caught. “You…”

The man’s voice was low, rough. “Don’t run.”

Sirius Black — it could be no one else — raised his empty hands in a gesture of peace. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. But you’ve been feeding me, tending me. You deserve the truth.”

Draco’s wand stayed in his hand but not raised. “You’re an Animagus,” he said quietly. “You’ve been here all along.”

Sirius gave a ghost of a smile. “So much like your mother,” he said. “Cautious, but kind when it counts.”

For a long moment they stared at each other. The only sound was the tree’s restless creaking and Crookshanks’ low purr as he wound around their legs. At last Draco lowered his wand.

“You’re supposed to be a murderer,” he said. “Supposed to have a knife.”

“I’m not what they say.” Sirius’ voice cracked. “I swear to you.”

Draco studied him. The man’s eyes were hollow but steady; the way the dog had pressed against him under the jacket, the way he’d never once bared teeth at Crookshanks — none of it matched the Prophet’s portrait of a mad killer.

“You’re not,” Draco said slowly. “I don’t think you ever were.”

Something eased in Sirius’ shoulders. He sank down to sit on the frozen ground, and Crookshanks hopped into his lap. After a beat Draco joined them, the jacket still folded in his arms. He draped it over Sirius’ shoulders without a word.

For the first time in years, Sirius laughed — a low, incredulous sound — as Crookshanks butted his head against Draco’s hand and purred. The three of them sat there in the silver light: fugitive, boy, and cat. The Whomping Willow creaked above like a sentry.

“Looks like we’re a strange little family,” Sirius said softly.

Draco didn’t smile, but he didn’t leave either. He reached down to scratch Crookshanks behind the ears, and the cat leaned into him, eyes half-closed. For the first time since Christmas, the knot in his chest loosened.

~~~~

Slytherin had finally had their matches with the other houses. Today was the day, the match for thu cup. Gryffindor vs Slytherin, however Draco didn't feel up to it in the slightest.

The stands were a blur of red and green banners when the whistle blew. Snow still crusted the pitch, glittering under the pale winter sun. Draco zipped upward on his broom, jaw tight, scarf snapping behind him. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks — OWL revision by candlelight, Patronus practice that ended in frustrated wisps of silver, and midnight trips to the Whomping Willow with food for the “Grim.” His eyes burned, but he forced a smirk as he rose over the crowd.

Below, Crabbe and Goyle lumbered into position with their bats. They were big and mean, but coordination wasn’t their strength. “Watch each other this time,” Draco had warned before the match. “And watch me.”

Fred and George Weasley circled like sharks on the other side of the pitch, bats at the ready, identical grins flashing. “Look who’s back for another crash landing!” Fred called over the wind as they shot past.

“Third time’s the charm, Malfoy!” George chimed in. “Hospital Wing’s got your pillow fluffed already!”

Draco tightened his grip on the broom and ignored them. If he let them under his skin, they’d win before the Snitch even showed itself.

The match turned fierce quickly. Gryffindor’s Chasers darted and spun, making clean goals. Slytherin countered with heavy blocks. The Bludgers were everywhere, and Crabbe and Goyle swung at them like clubbing trolls. One hit went wild, missing a Gryffindor by inches and streaking back toward Draco. He banked hard, hearing the air tear past his ear.

“Eyes open!” he snapped down at them, but they were already chasing another Bludger.

A flash of gold near the Gryffindor hoops — Draco dived, cold air slicing his face. Harry swooped in from the opposite direction. They were neck and neck, broom handles almost touching, when a sudden thud slammed into Draco’s ribs from the side. Pain exploded across his chest. His broom jolted violently and lurched downward.

Above him, Fred whooped. “That wasn’t even us, Malfoy!”

George yelled, “Your own Beaters are doing our job for us!”

Draco barely heard them. Through a haze of pain he glimpsed Crabbe lowering his bat, looking horrified; the Bludger had ricocheted straight off Goyle’s swing and into Draco’s side.

He clung to his broom, trying to steady it, but his grip slipped and he hit the turf hard. The crowd gasped, then erupted in a roar as Harry snatched the Snitch cleanly above him. Gryffindor 190, Slytherin 150.

Madam Hooch was already sprinting over, wand raised. “Honestly, Malfoy,” she scolded as she floated him onto a stretcher. “You’re making this a habit.”

Fred and George coasted down nearby, still laughing. “Every time we play him,” Fred said loudly, “he ends up horizontal. Maybe he just likes lying down on the job.”

“Next match we’ll bring him a blanket,” George added. “Save Madam Pomfrey the trouble.”

Even Blaise, jogging beside the stretcher, smirked faintly. “You do have a pattern, Draco,” he murmured, though his eyes flicked to the bruising already darkening on Draco’s ribs.

Draco gritted his teeth but said nothing. The pain was sharp, but what stung more was the truth: exhaustion had dulled his reflexes, and Crabbe and Goyle’s blunder had done the rest.

In the Hospital Wing Pomfrey waved her wand, muttering about cracked ribs and “reckless Seekers.” Draco stared at the ceiling while she worked. The echo of the twins’ teasing still rang in his ears.

As soon as she turned away to fetch more potions, he shifted slightly and reached for the wrapped bundle tucked under his cloak — bread and meat from breakfast, swiped on the way out. Even hurt, even teased, he was already thinking of the tunnel under the Willow. Sirius would be waiting.

~~~~

The shack was still and cold, the wooden beams groaning softly in the wind. Draco slipped inside, pulling his cloak tighter around himself, his ribs aching with every breath. Sirius was already there, looking sharper than the last time Draco had seen him—still gaunt and ragged, but his eyes were bright, alive.

“Draco,” Sirius greeted, voice warm in a way that always surprised him. “You made it.”

Draco gave a quick nod, only to notice they weren’t alone. A man stood beside Sirius, lean and tired-looking, but with kind eyes that seemed to take Draco in at once.

“This,” Sirius said, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder, “is Remus Lupin. My closest friend since school.”

Draco froze. “Professor Lupin?”

“Yes,” Remus said gently, clearly aware of the shock on Draco’s face. “I do still teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. And I’ll be expecting you in class, Mr. Malfoy, so don’t think this lets you off essays.” His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. “What you’re about to hear cannot leave this room.”

Draco shifted, feeling the weight of the introduction. Lupin inclined his head, polite and steady, and for the first time Draco wondered just how many secrets his professors carried with them.

They sat in the dim room, dust stirring in the air. Sirius’s gaze fell on Draco’s jacket, the one his mother had insisted he take from an old Black family trunk. His expression softened, almost wistful.

“That jacket used to be mine,” Sirius murmured. He ran his fingers over one of the patches stitched onto the sleeve—a rough, circular design of a full moon, faded but still clear. “Remus made this one for me, back when we were kids. Kept me patched up whenever I tore the thing to bits. Guess your mother never threw it out.”

Draco glanced between them. There was a silence heavy with memory, Sirius smiling faintly, Lupin looking away with a flicker of something in his eyes. Draco didn’t comment, but the way Sirius’s thumb lingered on that moon patch told him enough.

Sirius cleared his throat. His voice hardened. “Draco, you’ve seen Weasley’s rat, haven’t you? Scabbers.”

Draco raised a brow. “Plenty of times. Looks like he’s about to keel over any second.”

“Not dying,” Sirius snapped. “Hiding.” He leaned forward, his tone sharp with anger and years of frustration. “That rat is Peter Pettigrew. He was one of us. He was our friend. And he betrayed us all.”

Draco frowned. “How?”

“He was the Potters’ Secret-Keeper,” Sirius said bitterly. “He was the one who knew where James and Lily were hiding. We trusted him with their lives—and he sold them to Voldemort.” His fists curled. “I was framed for it. Everyone believed I killed Peter, but it was him who staged it. Cut off his own finger, left it behind in the explosion, and ran. Clever little trick. Let me rot in Azkaban while he scurried off to play pet.”

Lupin’s voice was gentler, though no less grim. “He’s been hiding all these years, disguised as a rat. First in wizarding families who’d never suspect him… and now, with the Weasleys. It’s a perfect cover—no one ever thinks twice about a hand-me-down pet.”

Draco’s mouth went dry. He thought of the small, scruffy rat Ron always carried around. The squeaks, the twitching nose, the ridiculous loyalty Ron had to the mangy thing. He felt sick.

“So that’s why you’ve been sneaking around?” Draco asked finally. “Breaking into Gryffindor Tower?”

Sirius nodded. “I wasn’t after Harry. I wasn’t after anyone else. Just Pettigrew. Crookshanks tried to help—cleverest cat I’ve ever met—but Weasley wouldn’t let him go. So I took matters into my own hands.”

Draco sat back, letting the weight of it settle. He’d grown up hearing stories about Sirius Black—the madman, the traitor, the murderer. And yet here he was, ragged but clear-eyed, speaking the truth with his professor sitting beside him in agreement.

“You’re saying the only reason you were in the castle was to catch that rat?” Draco asked carefully.

Sirius’s gaze burned into his. “Yes. That’s all I’ve ever wanted—for the truth to come out. For Harry to know who really betrayed his parents.”

Lupin leaned forward now, folding his hands. “And if we can capture Peter alive, we can prove Padfoot ’s innocence. End this. But we’ll need your help, Draco. You’ve already proven you can keep secrets.”

Draco let out a slow breath. His ribs still ached, his mind spun, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t just about old grudges. This was about truth—and maybe even justice.

“Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll help. But if I get expelled, I’m blaming you both.”

Sirius grinned, that wild spark in his eyes. “That’s the spirit. I knew you had a bit of Gryffindor recklessnes in you.”

Draco looked extremely offended, which emitted a laugh from both men, than glanced at the full moon patch again, then at the two men sitting side by side.

"Wait a minute if you’re Padfoot. The Marauders…” His grey eyes lit up. “You’re the ones who made the map, aren’t you? The one Fred and George have!”

Sirius chuckled, leaning against the tunnel wall. “James, Remus, Peter and me. Four idiots with a talent for mischief. We drew the castle on a bit of parchment and enchanted it so we’d never get caught sneaking about. You’ve seen it, then?”

"So if both you and Peter are Animagi, does that mean proffessor Lupin and Harry’s dad were also Animagi?"

Remus glanced at Sirius, who just nodded in encouragement and muttered.

"Well not exactly...."

~~~~

The Whomping Willow finally stilled, Crookshanks’ paw pressed firmly on the knot at its trunk. Harry and Hermione dashed across the roots and slid into the dark passageway after Ron, whom the enormous black dog had dragged below.

The tunnel was long, earthen walls scraping their shoulders as they half-ran, half-crawled. Harry’s lungs burned with panic. Ron’s leg had snapped—he’d heard it. He imagined the dog tearing into him.

The passageway sloped up at last, light glimmering faintly through broken boards. Harry crawled into the wrecked parlor of the Shrieking Shack, his wand raised. Hermione scrambled in behind him.

And there—on the floor—was Ron, clutching his twisted leg, his face white with pain.

“Ron!” Hermione shrieked, running to him.

“Where’s the dog?” Harry demanded, eyes darting.

Ron’s face twisted. “Not a dog. It’s a trap—he’s an Animagus!”

The door slammed. A figure stepped from the shadows, tall but gaunt, hair hanging in filthy ropes. His eyes blazed from the hollow sockets of his face.

Sirius Black.

Harry’s chest erupted in fury. His wand hand shot up.

“Expelliarmus!” croaked Sirius, Ron’s wand in his hand. Harry’s and Hermione’s flew into the air. Sirius caught them.

“I thought you’d come for your friend,” he rasped. “Brave… your father would’ve done the same.” His eyes fixed on Harry. “I’m grateful. Makes everything much easier.”

The words about his father snapped something in Harry. He surged forward, fists curled, wanting not to defend but to attack.

“YOU KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!” Harry roared.

He barreled into Sirius, knocking the frail man against the wall. They grappled, Sirius’s bony hand closing on Harry’s throat. Harry swung wildly, blind with rage. Hermione screamed, Ron tried to haul himself up despite his broken leg—

“Enough!”

The shout cracked through the room. A wand shot sparks.

Professor Lupin stood in the doorway, pale and tense, his eyes darting between Sirius, Harry, and the others. Draco Malfoy slipped in behind him, breathing hard, eyes narrowed.

“Remus!” Sirius gasped, clutching his ribs where Harry had struck him. “You’ve got to understand—he’s here. He’s in this room.”

“Who’s here?” Harry spat.

“Peter,” Lupin said, his voice low. “Peter Pettigrew.”

Hermione blinked. “That’s impossible. He’s dead. Sirius killed him!”

“No,” Draco said suddenly. His voice was sharp, certain. “Peter faked it. He’s been hiding. We planned this. He’s here, and Ron’s got him.”

All eyes turned to Ron. He looked bewildered, still clutching the squirming Scabbers against his chest. The rat squealed, thrashing desperately.

“What’s my rat got to do with anything?” Ron croaked.

“That’s not a rat,” Sirius growled. “That’s a traitor. An Animagus.”

Then Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will them to talk sensibly.

"But ... Scabbers can't be Pettigrew... it just can't be
true, you know it can't..."

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with grindylows.

"Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework -the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have
been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list."

Draco had barely had time to marvel inwardly at the effort Hermione put into her homework, when Lupin started to laugh.

"Light again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"I you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," said
Black, who was still watching Scabbers's every desperate move.

"I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right... but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin." I only
know how it began..." Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him.

The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing.

"No one there..."

"This place is haunted!" said Ron.

"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way.
"The Shrieking Shack was never haunted.... The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, "That's where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..."

He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione, said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin very intently.

"I as a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried
everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that
Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform.... I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school...."

Lupin sighed, and looked directly at
Harry. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year, I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. This house" -- Lupin looked miserably around the room, -- "the tunnel that leads to it -- they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

The only sound apart from Lupin's voice was Scabbers's frightened squeaking.

"My transformations in those days were -- were terrible. It is very
painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor.... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it...."

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends.Sirius Black... Peter Pettigrew... and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter."

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her... I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth...."

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best timesof my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad too?" said Harry, astounded.

"Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong -- one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled.
"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed... Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to
become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there... well, highly exciting
possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals,they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade
than we did.... And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal --?" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

Then Lupin proceeded to tell the story of Snape, who as if called upon suddenly appeared. His appearance ended in an altrecation where Draco did nor take his side, which he did nor want to think about at all. Consequences were a thing of tomorrow, he thought.

~~~~

Lupin had already raised his wand. “Hold him steady, Ron.”

“No—!” Ron yelped as Scabbers bit down hard on his hand, but Lupin’s spell cut through the air.

“Revelio Animagus!”

The rat screamed. Fur rippled away, bones stretching grotesquely. In seconds, Ron was clutching not a rat but a short, balding man with watery eyes and trembling hands. He collapsed onto the floorboards, whimpering.

Peter Pettigrew.

Draco marvled at the sight.

“Yes,” Sirius snarled, lunging forward, Lupin holding him back with effort. “There he is. The one who betrayed James and Lily.”

Pettigrew scrambled on his knees toward Harry, eyes bulging. “Harry—Harry, you’ve got to believe me—I didn’t mean to—Voldemort would have killed me—”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Harry shouted, voice breaking. “Don’t you dare use their names!”

Draco’s stomach turned. He’d known, had prepared for this moment with Sirius and Lupin, but seeing the pathetic little man who had caused so much—it was worse than he’d imagined.

“You should have died before betraying them!” Sirius bellowed, finally wrenching free of Lupin’s grasp and throwing Pettigrew to the ground. “Just like we would have!”

Pettigrew squealed, writhing. “Sirius, please! Remus—you understand, don’t you? I was terrified—he was powerful—”

“Powerful?” Lupin snarled. “And you? A coward who sold out your friends to save your own skin!”

The room rang with Pettigrew’s begging, Sirius’s fury, Harry’s ragged breathing, Ron’s groans of pain. Hermione was pale and silent, Crookshanks crouched low, hissing at Pettigrew.

Harry finally raised his wand again, his voice hoarse but steady. “Then let’s finish it. Turn him in. To the Ministry. Let them see who really betrayed my parents.”

Draco stepped up beside him, nodding. “He’s not worth dying over. But he’s worth proving the truth.”

Sirius’s chest heaved, rage and pain warring in his hollow face. Slowly, his gaze shifted to Harry. “Just like James,” he whispered. “Merciful, even now.”

Lupin’s voice cut the silence. “Then it’s settled. Pettigrew comes with us. Alive.”

Pettigrew sobbed in relief, but Harry’s wand didn’t waver. Draco’s eyes narrowed. Sirius’s jaw clenched.

For the first time in twelve years, the truth hung in the air of the Shrieking Shack, alive and undeniable.

~~~~

"I'm going to tie him up," said Lupin. "That's all, I swear."

Harry stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Lupin's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"But if you transform, Peter," growled Black, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew too, "we will kill you. You agree, Harry?"

Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him.

"Right," said Lupin, suddenly businesslike. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing."
He hurried over to Ron, bent down, tapped Ron's leg with his wand, and muttered, "Ferula." Bandages spun up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint.

"Let me try" said Draco, although relatively new at it he could heal basic fractures or at least put the bone together correctly. He muttered different healing spells, sweat dripping down his face from concentration. In the end he did manage to pull it off, however he was not sure how well so he still advised Ron to move to a minimum and keep the splint.

Draco helped him to his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on
the leg and didn't wince.

"That's better," he said. "Thanks."

"What about Professor Snape?" said Hermione in a small voice, looking down at Snape's prone figure.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him," said Lupin, bending over Snape and checking his pulse. "You were just a little --
overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er -- perhaps it will be best if we
don't revive him until we're safety back in the castle. We can take him like this...."

He muttered, "Mobilicorpus." As though invisible strings were tied to Snape's wrists, neck, and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. Lupin picked up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it safely into his pocket.

"And two of us should be chained to this," said Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. "Just to make sure."

"I'll do it," said Lupin.

"And me," said Ron savagely, limping forward.

Black conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Lupin's right, right arm to Ron's left. Ron's face was set. He seemed to have taken Scabbers's true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail held jauntily high.

~~~~

Sirius and Harry had a conversation about what follows after clearing Sirius's name.

The cloud slid off the moon like a lid being lifted. Moonlight poured across the clearing, and at once Lupin stiffened. His head snapped back; his fingers curled into claws. Ron and Pettigrew were still manacled to him — Ron to one side, Pettigrew to the other — like prisoners tethered to a wild beast.

“Professor?” Hermione whispered.

A low growl rattled from Lupin’s throat. His whole frame began to shake; his coat split at the seams as fur sprouted down his arms. His jaw lengthened, teeth glinting in the cold silver light. With a wrench he tore one manacle free — the one binding him to Pettigrew — and the little man stumbled backward, still chained to Ron by the other cuff.

“Run!” Sirius barked, shoving Harry and Hermione back.

But Ron couldn’t run. Chained and dragging, he was pulled down onto his knees. “Help!” he gasped, struggling to keep his footing as Lupin convulsed. “He’s—he’s changing—!”

Draco darted forward. “Hold still, Weasley!” he hissed, dropping to his knees. He snatched his wand out and aimed at the chain. “Alohomora… Diffindo—come on—” Sparks leapt uselessly from the iron. Draco swore under his breath, shoved the wand between his teeth and tried to work at the knot of rope and metal binding Ron’s wrist with his fingers. His whole back was to Lupin now, hunched over Ron’s arm.

Behind him Pettigrew made a lunge for Lupin’s dropped wand. Draco heard the scrape and twisted just enough to shout, “Difindo!” A bolt of red light caught Pettigrew across the shoulder. The little man shrieked; blood spattered across the grass — but even as he fell, his form shrank and shifted. The bald-tailed rat burst from the robes and shot into the long grass, leaving a dark smear behind it.

Draco turned back to the knot, yanking desperately at the chain. “Stay still!” he barked at Ron. “I’ve almost got you—”

But behind him Lupin gave a terrible snarl. The werewolf had finished its transformation. Its claws slashed at the ground, foam dripping from its jaws. It leapt — and only Sirius, already in dog form, slammed into it from the side, jaws locking on its shoulder.

The two beasts rolled, snarling and snapping, but their momentum carried them straight into Draco’s crouched figure. One claw caught him across the back, ripping through his robes. White-hot pain exploded through him; his wand fell, his hands slipped from the chain.

“Draco!” Hermione screamed.

He tried to twist, to push Ron clear, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. He saw, dimly, Sirius dragging the werewolf backward, but the sight blurred at the edges. His fingers scrabbled once more at Ron’s rope and then slipped. The world tilted sideways, and darkness swallowed him.

~~~~

Draco stirred , wincing as Madam Pomfrey re-bandaged the long slashes across his back. He was pale under the green-tinged hospital light, but his eyes were sharp.

“Lie back, Mr. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey said briskly, trying to ease him down. “Those scratches are deep. Silver salve or not, they’ll reopen if you so much as sit up—”

“I’m fine,” Draco muttered, pushing himself onto his elbows anyway. His voice was hoarse. “What about Black? Where is he?”

“Locked upstairs,” said Pomfrey grimly. “Now lie still.”

But Draco ignored her. When Harry shot to his feet and began to protest to Fudge, Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed. “He’s telling the truth,” he said, surprising everyone. His face was white and pinched but his voice carried. “Peter Pettigrew is alive. He transformed right in front of us. He cut and ran toward the forest — I hit him with a Stunner on the way out, he bled. There’ll be blood traces all over the grass if anyone bothers to look.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Fudge said in the careful voice he used for unstable witnesses. “You’re badly hurt, you’re in shock—”

“I’m not,” Draco snapped. “Check it! You can even extract magical residue from his blood — his magic and his DNA will match the rat Scabbers. You can take my memory if you want. I was right there. You’ll see everything.”

Snape’s mouth had gone very thin. “Confunded as well, clearly,” he said softly.

Draco glared at him. “I wasn’t confunded. I was trying to untie Weasley when Professor Lupin changed — I saw Pettigrew transform, I saw him escape. If you don’t act, you’re going to murder an innocent man.”

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue and tried to push him back down, but he shook her off. “Sit still, Mr. Malfoy, you’re losing blood—”

“I don’t care,” Draco said through his teeth. He winced as the bandages pulled tight across his shoulders. “Just go and test the trail. Pettigrew’s magic is all over that clearing.”

Dumbledore had just entered; his eyes flicked from Harry and Hermione to Draco, noting the claw marks. “You saw this too, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Draco said. “And you know what scratched me. If Lupin— if a werewolf scratched me—” For a second his voice faltered. “There’s a chance, isn’t there?”

Madam Pomfrey made a soothing noise. “We’ve cleaned the wounds thoroughly. I’ve given you the antidote draughts. It is not inevitable. But you must rest now.”

Draco pressed his lips together and looked at Dumbledore instead. “I don’t care what happens to me. Just don’t let them do the Kiss on Sirius. Use my memories. Use the blood. Use whatever you need.”

Harry stared at him; Hermione did too. Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. “I believe you,” he said. “All of you. But we have very little time. If Sirius is to be saved, we must move at once.”

Draco leaned back against the pillows, breathing hard, but his grey eyes stayed fixed on Dumbledore. “Then go,” he muttered. “And bring back Pettigrew before it’s too late.”

Dumbledore looked from Harry and Hermione to Draco, his eyes unusually bright behind the half-moon spectacles.
“We have very little time,” he said quietly. “Miss Granger, you know what must be done.”

Hermione’s hand had flown to her collar. She pulled a fine chain out from under her jumper. “Professor—here?”

Dumbledore nodded once. “Now. You and Harry can still set things right if you move swiftly. You must not be seen.”

Harry opened his mouth. “But what about—?”

“I’ll be here,” Draco interrupted hoarsely from his bed. His bandaged shoulders were pressed against the headboard, his face pinched with pain but alert. “Go. Just bring him back. Catch Pettigrew if you can. There’s blood and magic in the grass. The Ministry will have to believe you if you show them.”

Hermione hesitated, glancing at the pale boy. “You’ll be all right?”

Madam Pomfrey bustled back in at that moment with a steaming goblet. “He’ll be all right if he stays in bed,” she said, glaring at Draco. “No moving about, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco gave a short, humourless laugh. “I’m not moving anywhere.” He fixed his grey eyes on Harry. “Don’t waste time arguing. If you can save Black, do it.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Your courage tonight has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Malfoy. Rest now.”

He turned back to Harry and Hermione. “Three turns should do it. Save the lives you can. Remember— unseen.”

Hermione looped the chain over Harry’s head. The hospital wing blurred as she twisted the tiny hourglass. The beds, the white sheets, the pale boy sitting upright with his bandaged back, all spun away into the past—

Draco watched them vanish with a faint shimmer of air, then sagged back against the pillows. His hands shook as he drew the blanket up, but there was a glint of determination in his eyes. If they succeeded, there would be blood and memories and proof waiting in the forest. If they failed…he shut his eyes, listening to Madam Pomfrey fuss, and prayed they wouldn’t.

~~~~

Draco had grown used to the smell of potions and clean linen. The hospital wing had its own rhythm: Madam Pomfrey clucking over cauldrons at dawn, the clatter of goblets, the faint rustle of the curtains around the beds. He had been there for two days now, bandages changed twice daily, silver-green bruises fading slowly from his ribs. Every morning he’d wake before the sun came up, half-expecting to hear claws scratching the flagstones.

He knew now what the next full moon meant. Lupin’s abrupt transformation in the forest had not only left its mark on Harry and Ron; Draco had a ragged crescent of scars on his shoulder that Madam Pomfrey treated with special, bitter-smelling salves. She wouldn’t say the word, but he didn’t need her to. He’d read enough in the Restricted Section. The wolf’s bite wasn’t a simple wound. He had even asked, quietly, whether Remus Lupin would still be teaching. Pomfrey’s answer had been a soft shake of her head.

Blaise arrived first, bringing a contraband box of Honeydukes’ fudge and a copy of the Prophet. “Looks like they’re still calling Black an escaped prisoner,” he said grimly, tossing the paper onto the bed. “But there’s an investigation. They’ve found Pettigrew’s magic in the forest.”

Draco traced the headline with a finger. “Good. At least Sirius is free. Even if they won’t admit it yet.”

The next afternoon the Weasley twins swept in like a gust of fresh air. Fred perched on the foot of the bed, George produced a deck of Exploding Snap, and between them they smuggled in Pumpkin Pasties and a bottle of Butterbeer. They were bright and laughing as always, but their eyes softened when Draco told them the truth under a Silencing Charm. He kept his voice steady, but his fingers twisted in the sheets as he described the bite and what it meant.

“We’ll figure it out,” George said at once.

“Too right we will,” Fred agreed, clapping a hand on Draco’s uninjured shoulder. “If old Moony made it this far, you’re not going to fold now. We’ve got your back.”

Blaise leaned in from the next bed. “All of us do. Marauders 2.0, remember?”

For the first time in days, Draco managed a genuine smile. “Marauders 2.0,” he echoed, almost like a toast.

By the last morning of term he was strong enough to leave. Madam Pomfrey muttered dire warnings about “taking it easy” but finally relented. Outside, the castle felt different—emptier, as though the air itself had been cleared by the storm of the past week. Lupin’s office was locked, his trunk gone.

Down at the platform, the scarlet engine was already steaming. Draco slung his bag over his shoulder and climbed aboard with Blaise and the twins. They found an empty compartment, dumped their trunks, and collapsed onto the seats. Blaise flicked through the Prophet again; Fred and George were already
sketching plans for something called “Moony’s Mix” on a scrap of parchment.

Draco leaned back against the window, watching Hogwarts slide out of sight as the train began to move. For the first time since the forest, he let himself breathe. Whatever lay ahead—the full moon, the Ministry, his family—he wasn’t facing it alone.