Chapter Text
Draco's thirteenth birthday party was absolutely abysmal. He had never had such a dreary birthday. It had started with Dumbledore owling Narcissa, saying that Harry could not leave the Dursleys, not even for his party. There was no reasoning, just that he had to wait longer to see him in late July. Without his best friend confirmed to not be RSVP-ing, Draco was in a sour mood for days up to his party. Then, he was informed that the Weasleys had won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw, and immediately went to spend the entirety of it on a family vacation to Egypt. Visiting their eldest son, apparently. Draco was sour. Not only because he couldn't see Ron, but also because Molly and Arthur Weasley shouldn't be this irresponsible with money after seven children.
Then, Hermione's parents had decided to take themselves and her on a trip to France, and she could not argue with them since they had apparently had this organized for months, wanting to surprise her.
Pansy's family refused to let her see Draco outside of school, unwilling to let their daughter associate with a misfit like Draco.
Blaise was the only one to show, and he had not even received any sort of letter of acknowledgement from his father.
Draco was miserable. So much so, that he barely even spent the day with Blaise, sending him home after an hour.
Nothing could have made this worse. At least it wasn't his actual birthday, and even then... that day was bloody terrible too.
Thankfully, Hermione and Ron weren't completely heartless, sending him their presents almost immediately after they had parted ways at the platform. Hermione had gifted him more muggle items - he used those pens nearly every day for every possible assignment, so Draco was ecstatic as he tore it open for it to reveal a humongous pile of... sweets?
Inside Hermione's gift was a bottomless pit of muggle snacks, sweets, and pastries. Draco nearly cried. Ron had owled him a Chudley Canons hat and jumper, which Draco tried so very hard not to throw up at. It was a ghastly orange, even worse than Ron's hair.
"The twat," Draco murmured, putting them in his dresser to never see the light of day again. He had very proudly expressed his hatred for the Quidditch team and the weasel thought it'd be a funny little joke.
It was quite funny, Draco begrudgingly admitted to himself.
So, for the first four weeks of summer, Draco spent his days holed up in his bedroom, owling Harry with zero response back, as per usual. The only time he had gotten a letter from the boy was when he sent his belated birthday gift the day after his canceled party. At least everybody else had managed to send their presents on time.
Draco,
I've seen that you like to doodle quite a lot when you're spacing out, and even your effortless drawings on the margins of your parchment are better than anything I could ever do.
Here's a basic painting kit that the twins went out and bought for me way back in late May. I hope you like it. If you don't, that's okay too, I'm not even sure you care for drawing or painting like that.
Happy birthday!
See you soon,
Harry
p.s., the Dursleys are still terrible but at least I'm not locked away this time.
That letter was the only thing that made Draco smile, and like the idiot he was, he kept re-reading it. As if there was some hidden cry for help written between the lines. It was pathetic, really.
So Draco had started drawing more. And then he had started to paint. And eventually Andromeda and Narcissa had bought him proper brushes and canvases from Diagon Alley, despite being unsure where this sudden interest in artistry came from.
He wasn't amazing. Not even great by any means, or maybe Draco was simply hard on himself. Whatever it was, nothing he created was good enough to keep, because he tossed or burned nearly every painting, unhappy with it all.
Harry was wrong. He wasn't good at this, the boy was just easily impressed.
Harry.
Draco missed him. More than he cared to admit, actually. Draco tended to space out a lot, the topic of interest inside his brain usually consisting of Harry Potter. He hadn't realized it, but he had sketched out a very rough outline of-
Draco blushed, tearing the parchment out of the book and thinking twice before deciding to fold it (the other option being to scrunch it up and toss it out the window) and tuck it in the very back of this sketchbook.
"I am a moron, through and through," he breathed, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes, and then proceeding to smack himself in the head. Stupid. Draco decided it simply must have been a side effect of Riddle's possession.
Why else would he have absentmindedly drawn his best friend from memory?
"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban?" Draco gasped. "How?"
Narcissa and Andromeda shared an uneasy look while Draco read over the Daily Prophet's front page.
"Darling, if you want, it isn't too late to transfer you to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons."
"What?" Draco narrowed his pale eyes. "Why on Earth would I want to be transferred to either of those school when all of those students have their heads up their own arses?"
"Watch your language, Draco," Andromeda chided, sitting down across the table with Ted and Nymphadora, who had just arrived home in a frenzy. Draco had gotten close with her over the last month, and he loved to grind her gears by addressing her by her given name rather than Tonks or Dora.
"Really, dear, they are both much better schools! Either one of them will foster your intelligence and power-"
"No! Why are you so hell bent on sending me to a different school in the middle of the summer?" Draco demanded, fists clenching on his lap. "I at least deserve an answer. It is my choice, after all. That is what you have always taught me."
Narcissa rubbed her temples, pulling out the chair next to him and taking a seat. She held Draco's hand, worry etched all over her face.
"How much do you know about Sirius Black, Draco?" Narcissa finally said.
"He is my cousin - second cousin once removed, or whatever," he shrugged, shivers crawling up his spine at the thought of being remotely associated with a murderer.
Narcissa nodded slowly. "Do you know why he was sentenced to life in Azkaban, Draco?"
There was silence, Draco meanwhile racking his brain for answers but coming up blank. He shook his head wordlessly. "He killed some muggles, didn't he?"
"It was way worse than that, kiddo," Nymphadora spoke up softly, for once sounding serious.
"Sirius is the reason that Harry Potter is an orphan - that the Dark Lord was able to find the Potters at all. He was their Secret Keeper, the only one who knew where they were hiding. Sirius Black was James Potter's closest friend. They were like brothers," Andromeda explained, her face solemn. "I was the only one he would still speak to while we were at school. There was never a closer pair than those two. Not even the other two boys could compare to what they had."
"He was a Gryffindor," Narcissa continued. "Shunned from our family."
Draco was stunned, his mind feeling like it was frozen in time. He could tell, he could just tell that they all wanted to compare him to that monster. It was the same origin story, after all. Pureblood supremist family disowns Gryffindor son, and eventually goes to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, betraying his found family in the end.
When Draco looked his mother in the eyes, he could tell - there was something there, something she wasn't saying.
"Is- is that all?" he mumbled, hands clasped together tightly. "Are you sure he wasn't imperiused? How could he betray them like that?"
Would I do that to Hermione? Ron? Or... Harry? Is that my fate?
"He... wasn't given a fair trial, but, he also killed his other close friend. Peter Pettigrew. All that was left of the victims, including the innocent muggles caught in the crossfire, was Pettigrew's finger," Andromeda said.
"I..." Draco inhaled deeply, trying not to compare himself. "I still do not understand why you wish to transfer me, mother."
"Well... there is a reason he escaped, Draco. It is more than likely, above anything else that he wants to go after Harry Potter," Narcissa looked Draco in the eyes. "I am selfish, I admit. I do not want anything happening to you since you are his friend."
"The Ministry and the Auror Department are suspecting he wants to finish the job for You-Know-Who," Nymphadora said icily. "Bloody tosser."
"No, mother," Draco stood up, avoiding eye contact with his family. "I will be boarding the Hogwarts Express on the first of September."
That was all he said, excusing himself to his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him and leaning on it. Draco exhaled, feeling like his lungs were closing in on him.
I'm not like him. I am not.
"Draco, dear? We need to be leaving soon!" Narcissa knocked on the door of the bathroom for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes.
"Mother, you cannot rush perfection," Draco argued, combing his hair back and then fluffing it back out again, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He was indecisive. Draco was excited to see Hermione and Ron after they both returned from their holidays, and possibly even Harry if he could escape. Deciding to embrace the hair that seemed to be doing whatever it wanted of its own accord, Draco applied his skincare for the morning and finally left the washroom, ignoring his mother's exasperated sigh.
"You cannot complain, mother," Draco smirked.
"Yes, I am aware it is my own fault for you being so vain," she rolled her eyes. They stepped out of the house and walked down the pavement just enough so that they were out of the wards, and then apparated to London, standing just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Draco wrinkled his nose.
"Mother, why here, of all places?"
She looked just as displeased as he did. "This is where those Weasleys of yours informed me to meet. Let us go, before we are mistaken for commonfolk."
Draco rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be dragged by his mother inside the wizard's pub. His nose just wrinkled even more once inside, eyeing the place and cringing away from passerby, as if they were infected with some contagious disease.
"Trust me, mate, your reputation is already in the rubbish with the rest of us lot," a familiar voice teased, and Draco sharply turned his head to see Fred (George?) standing a few feet away with a grin on his face. George (Fred?) peeked out from behind him, an equally mischievous grin on his face.
"Look-ie who we have here, Freddie!" George chirped, walking over and slinging an arm around Draco.
"It's ickle blondie! I know a certain someone who will be ever so pleased to see you," Fred snickered.
Draco raised an eyebrow, sharing an amused yet confused glance with his mother. "Who?"
The twins looked at each other before giggling, as if this was some wonderful secret they've been trusted to keep.
"Pay no mind, let us go this way now. After you, miss," George gestured to further down the dingey pub, letting Narcissa walk ahead of them.
"Of course you halfwits will act like gentlemen in front of my mother," Draco grumbled. "Figures."
"Can't help that your mother looks like a goddess," Fred shrugged innocently, receiving a rather harsh jab from Draco, who felt sick at the thought.
He sped up, walking past his mother and finally spotting three familiar faces.
"Draco!" the three chorused, rushing over and hugging him. "We are so sorry!"
Draco burst into laughter, a blush rising to his cheeks as he looked at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were all making large puppy-dog eyes at him. "What for?"
"For missing your celebration!" Hermione held onto him while Harry and Ron awkwardly let go, still looking very guilty.
Draco smiled slightly, patting her on the back gently. He had grown used to hugs after becoming friends with Hermione, but recently he had grown uncomfortable with being hugged by anyone other than his mother.
She seemed to realize this, letting go rather quickly. "Goodness, you grew so much in just one month," Hermione's eyes widened.
They all had, honestly. Harry, still as short as ever, had grown quite a bit over the school year and so had Ron. The latter had shot up like a weed over the month, having about three inches on Draco, who was bitter about the fact.
One thing that made Draco very pleased was that he was still taller than Harry, even if it was by an inch or less. He was still taller. Hermione had hardly grown, since she had gone through a decent growth spurt over the course of the school year, but somehow she looked more mature than the three of them combined, her face slimming and her hair neater.
That was thanks to Draco. With his help, she was able to realize she had been taking care of her hair all wrong, and was finally somewhat getting the hang of it.
"Forget the party, why are we meeting at a... place like this?" Draco looked around again, the musty smell of the building reminding him of wet socks.
"I'm staying here," Harry said. "I haven't had a chance to owl anyone yet, I only arrived last night."
Hermione, Ron, and Draco all had similar expressions on their faces. Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
"What did you do this time, Potter?" Draco crossed his arms, eyebrow raised.
"I may have blownupmyaunt."
"Huh?" Ron asked.
"You blew up your aunt?!" Hermione all but shrieked, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. "Harry - Ronald quit laughing- Draco!"
Ron roared with laughter, and Draco couldn't help but join in, clutching at his stomach as tears filled his eyes.
"Oh, this really isn't funny you two, honestly, he could have been expelled!"
"He wasn't, right?" Ron coughed out amidst cackles, and when Harry shook his head, the two of them finally ceased their laughter, leaning on each other so to not tumble to the floor.
"I don't see the problem in laughing, Hermione," Draco grinned deviously. "I would like to know how in Salazar's name you managed it, though, the whole act of blowing up and not getting expelled."
"I dunno," Harry supplied unhelpfully, and Draco sighed, expecting as much from the boy. "Ron, your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?"
"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" Ron chuckled. "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening before we head off."
"You're leaving tonight?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. "Take me with you, this place gives me the creeps."
Draco fiddled with his hands behind his back, looking down towards his feet awkwardly. He would have told Harry to come stay with him like they had talked about, but he asked Ron. Draco didn't want to interrupt.
"What about Draco?" asked Hermione, as if she read Draco's mind. "Weren't you two planning on staying together again?"
Harry turned pink. "Right, I just figured you didn't want to, since you didn't bring it up."
"Moron, it's been barely ten minutes since I arrived," Draco laughed, flicking the boy on his forehead. "Of course I want you to stay with me again."
With that settled, the four proceeded to go out into Diagon Alley and split up into two groups to find their school supplies. Harry and Draco went together while Ron and Hermione, bickering as usual, split off towards Flourish and Blotts.
About an hour later they reunited, and Draco immediately caught sight of the three bulging bags sitting by Hermione's feet at Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop.
"What's all that, Hermione?"
"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" Hermione said brightly. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies - "
"Hold on just one moment," Draco held up a hand to stop her.
"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and Draco. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are muggles! You already know everything there is to know!"
"What he said," Draco pointed his spoon at Hermione, an eyebrow tilted upwards in confusion. "You're a madwoman."
She glared at him, crossing her arms indignantly. "But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view!"
The boys all snickered, shaking their heads fondly. "Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?"
"Well, we'll be in Muggle Studies together then, I presume," Draco said. "Don't look so shocked. This is my act of rebellion as a pureblood who's been shunned by their father."
She ignored them, checking her purse. "I've still got ten Galleons. It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present?"
"So why don't you try and save it for Hogsmeade?" Draco asked.
"I really would love an owl," Hermione said. "Harry's got Hedwig, and Ron's got Errol -"
"I haven't," Ron shook his head. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers," he pulled the mangey rat out of his pocket. Draco flinched, snatching his bowl of ice cream back towards him.
"Weasley, put that nasty thing back," he hissed. "I have already come to terms with his inevitable death, and so should you. That rat looks terrible."
"I want to get him checked over," Ron kicked Draco in the shins under the table. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."
The rat looked worse than it ever had, and Harry pointed them all in the direction of the Magical creature shop just across the street.
The four stepped inside the Magical Menagerie, and Draco immediately wanted to leave, feeling extremely claustrophobic. The walls were lined with dozens of different creatures stuck in small, cramped cages, and even Draco felt pity on the animals.
Him and Hermione went over towards the owls while Harry and Ron spoke to the lady at the counter about Scabbers.
"I have a strong feeling we will have to plan a funeral soon," Draco murmured to Hermione once they were out of earshot. She slapped his arm, but in the end mumbled an agreement.
"That rat can't have much left in him, I agree," she sighed, looking over the cages of owls boredly.
"None of these beauties catching your eye, then?" Draco asked, admiring the gorgeous creatures.
"Not particularly," Hermione huffed. "Oh, well, I suppose I could always buy something for myself at Hogsmeade like you said-"
"OUCH!" Ron bellowed, and the two whipped around to see a huge blob of orange fur propel itself off of Ron's head and towards Scabbers, who ran away in fear, out the front door. Harry and Ron raced out of the shop to catch the rat moments later.
"Oh, Crookshanks, whatever is the matter with you?" the witch at the counter tutted, holding the feisty cat in her arms.
"Oh, he's beautiful!" Hermione squealed, rushing up to the lady and cooing at the massive creature.
"Yes, he is, isn't he?" the lady said, allowing Hermione to pet Crookshanks. Draco observed the cat, wondering how in the world it was even able to be so fluffy that it looked more like a humongous hairball than an animal.
"I suppose he's quite cute," Draco eventually admitted, being forced by Hermione to scratch behind his ears, earning himself many loud, happy purrs. Crookshanks' jumped into Draco's arms and he stumbled back in shock, unsure of how to hold him.
"He likes you," another worker said while passing by. "Both of you, actually, he never lets anyone get near him aside from Margot over here."
"Draco," Hermione began slowly, watching as the cat nuzzled into his neck. "Cats are allowed at Hogwarts, aren't they?"
"Ron will absolutely despise you," Draco grinned devilishly, handing Crookshanks to Hermione. He seemed to love her just as much, purring even louder than he was before. "How much?" he asked the witch at the counter.
"Nine galleons," she grinned broadly. "Oh, finally, Crookshanks, you'll be going to a lovely new owner!"
"Owners, actually," Draco dug into his pocket, fishing out the correct amount of money to hand over.
"Draco, no, let me!"
"Crookshanks is our cat, he got me attached within two minutes. You're not getting him all to yourself."
"At least let me pay half!" Hermione argued, frowning.
"This is your birthday present," Draco shrugged, handing over the nine galleons without struggle. "Don't expect anything in September now, I've done my part." he grinned.
Hermione had never smiled so bright as they exited the shop, meeting Ron and Harry outside.
"You bought that monster?"
"I bought him, actually," Draco said firmly. "He's ours. We're... co-parenting, so to speak."
Harry and Ron were extremely puzzled, looking at each other equally confused.
"Isn't that a bit..." Ron said, gesturing between the two of them as though they would understand his point.
"I'm not following," Draco rolled his eyes. "Use your words, Weaselbee."
"Isn't that a bit... couple-y?" Harry supplied awkwardly.
Hermione looked aghast and Draco glanced at his nails, admiring how neatly manicured they were. Aunt Andromeda had many talents, it seemed. "And? Your point?"
Hermione blushed and shoved him while Ron's jaw dropped in horror.
"So, does this mean... you two-"
"Oh, good heavens, no!" Hermione shrieked, shoving past him and briskly walking back towards the Leaky Cauldron. "I will see you all on the train in three weeks. Goodbye now!" she called back towards them, her ears blushing red.
"You are a menace," Draco said at Ron, pouting at not being able to see Crookshanks for nearly a month.
"Me?" the ginger spluttered, gesturing madly at Draco and then to Hermione, who was out of sight now.
Harry cackled. "He's just pulling your leg, Ron."
"Am I?" Draco hummed, a proud smirk on his face as he nonchalantly strolled off to meet with his mother. "Better run along and pack your bags, Potter, or we'll leave you behind to deal with the hags and vampires.
"Vampires?" Harry gulped, eyes bulging.
"Yes, I've heard they love to lurk near the Leaky Cauldron, and even sleep there sometimes! They certainly love to prey on innocent-"
"Oi, Malfoy, we get it. Stop being such an arse," Ron grumbled, elbowing him roughly.
"Back to last names now, are we?" Draco quirked an eyebrow.
"You started it!" Ron groaned, the slightest ghost of a smile on his lips.
"You two are ridiculous," Harry laughed. "Hello, Miss Malfoy," he greeted politely.
"Mother," Draco smiled, seeing at how tense Narcissa was while conversing with the Weasleys and Grangers. "Harry, hurry up and grab your things."
"I'm going, I'm going!" Harry yelled back. "Merlin, you're like an overbearing mother hen."
"It feels so good to be back here," Harry sighed in relief, flopping down face-first onto Draco's bed, rolling himself up in the comforter. "I forgot how nice your blankets are," he said, voice muffled underneath the layers.
Draco sniggered, smiling fondly at his close friend, who, even now, was the only person to make him drop the walls he's built up around him.
Draco proceeded to join Harry in the absolute wreck that he'd created out of his freshly-washed and made bed. He laid on his back, staring up at the bleak ceiling.
"Hermione and Ron gave me my presents before you showed."
"Oh? What'd they give you? Why now?"
"I don't want any sort of celebration. Not really," Harry shrugged. "It's tomorrow anyways, and I'd... feel bad having a party when you didn't."
Draco had never been so mortified. "I did. I had an absolute rager. We had firewhiskey and everything."
There was a beat of silence before Draco heard a little giggle erupt from Harry. Draco felt an odd fluttering in the pit of his stomach at the sound. Hm. Odd.
"Blaise owled me," Harry explained. Draco slapped his hand on his face, grumbling a string of curses and groaning.
"Of course he did. Nitwit. I didn't want anyone to know. It's not important, I don't care."
Another beat of silence.
"But I do."
It was so quiet that Draco could've easily passed it off as him having terrible hearing, except the idiot repeated himself.
"I care, you wonker."
Draco couldn't look Harry in the eyes, even when the boy propped himself up on one elbow, still entirely wrapped like a burrito in Draco's blankets. His head was barely peeking out from beneath the thick comforter.
"You look like a flobberworm," Draco said quickly, getting to his feet. "Give me my blankets back and re-make my bed. It was all pretty before you and your loud self announced your presence."
"Loud self? What does that even mean?"
"Your mere presence is loud. Everyone is captivated by you, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes, walking over to his dresser in search of something. "Including my bed, it seemed, since now you hold the entirety of it hostage."
Of course, Harry Potter has selective hearing. Because Draco did not expect him to say-
"So you think I'm captivating?"
Draco banged his head against the wooden dresser, ready to give up on life. He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a neatly wrapped gift, resisting the urge to hurl it at Harry's stupid scarred face. Instead, he opted for tossing it next to him on the bed.
"Happy birthday, scarhead."
He was blushing. Draco was blushing so hard he was an entirely different color on the color wheel. It was merely out of embarrassment, he kept telling himself.
"Wow- Draco, this is- wow."
Harry's voice was filled with awe - it even trembled. He was staring dumbly down at the little box, opened to reveal a necklace with a locket. The locket was already open, showing a small, moving photo of James and Lily Potter.
"I don't have this picture," he murmured, bringing the locket closer to his face to properly look at it. His parents were smiling brightly at the camera, clearly having been caught mid-laugh. They were teenagers in the photo, and it was clearly taken on Hogwarts grounds. "How.."
Draco cleared his throat, sitting on the edge of the bed while Harry sat, unmoving with the blankets loosely around his shoulders. His eyes didn't leave the necklace. Not once.
"It was McGonagall. I asked if there was any possible way to see if there were any old pictures, or if she could contact someone who'd have a photo. Apparently, there was. Not sure who she talked to, but they had that. I asked my mother to shrink it down to fit in that locket," Draco said quietly, playing with his thumbs. "If you don't like it, or if I overstepped-"
Harry shook his head abruptly, his hand quickly wiping at his cheeks before he gently set the necklace aside and reached out to hug Draco tightly. Draco slowly wrapped his arms around Harry's back, the younger boy trembling slightly. He was crying, Draco realized, so he held on tighter. He was nervous with physical affection nowadays, but with Harry... Harry was an exception to that. Somehow, for some reason, his body never rejected Harry's touches or hugs.
Harry held on tighter, inhaling loudly and burying his face into Draco's shoulder.
One thing Draco realized a while ago was that Harry... probably never received affection at all until he started at Hogwarts. No hugs, no kisses on the head, no gentle pats on the back. Nowhere, nobody ever gave him love of any kind. Draco had stopped arguing when the boy hugged him, understanding that he needed it, and Draco would deal with moments of tension to let Harry know he was wanted and loved.
Loved in a friendly way, of course. What else could it be? Draco loves all his friends. Draco even loves Ronald!
"Thank you," Harry whispered, his hold not loosening on Draco. He didn't argue.
"Happy birthday, scarhead," Draco said, rubbing his back soothingly.
"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as the four sat down in the emptiest compartment they could find on the train, eyeing the raggedy-looking man slumped over against the window.
"Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione answered.
"How on earth d'you know that?"
"It's on his case," she said, nodding up at the luggage rack above the man's head.
"This isn't important," Harry waved his hand urgently.
"What is it then?" Draco asked. Harry then went on to explain how Mr. Weasley had pulled him aside to warn him about Sirius Black and how he'd be going after Harry.
"Sirius Black escaped to come after you?" Hermione gasped, her hand clasped on her mouth. During the course of him explaining, Crookshanks had crawled across Hermione's lap to Draco's, nuzzling his head against Draco's hand, who had stilled after hearing Harry's story. "Oh, Harry, you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble-"
"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry said, frustrated. "Trouble usually sticks itself in a tattered old diary and comes looking for me."
Draco glared at Harry. "Real sensitive there, Potter."
"Sorry," Harry said earnestly. "Too soon."
"Very," Draco mumbled, nervously scratching Crookshanks behind the ear. How was he supposed to tell Harry the most important part of this story? Or the fact that he'd known the entire time he stayed in his home? Harry would kill him if he knew that Black was not only his father's closest friend - practically brother - but also related to Draco himself. What if that put a bad taste in their mouths? What if they thought he'd end up the same?
"Black... isn't that family connected to the Malfoys?" Ron wondered aloud.
Draco nodded, sighing. Best to get this part over with now. "He is, yes. My... second cousin, actually."
They all stared at him in stunned silence, jaws agape.
"Take a photo, it'll last longer," he rolled his eyes.
Ron whistled nervously. "Wow, mate, that must... suck."
"Ah, yes, thank you for you intellectual input. It does indeed suck as you so eloquently put it."
"Do you... know anything about him?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Not particularly. I figured we were distant relatives, possibly related by marriage, but mother told me otherwise," Draco grimaced, still stroking Crookshank's soft fur. Hermione must have bathed and groomed him. "He was a Gryffindor, shunned from the family."
That earned more uneasy glances. They all thought it, there was no need to say it. It was eerily similar to Draco's own story.
He didn't need to talk about it, he already spent half the summer obsessing over the fact.
The train ride dragged on, as the topic changed to Hogsmeade. When Draco found out that Harry was not going to be able to join them in Hogsmeade, he begged Andromeda or Narcissa to sign the papers, and they had. Surely it would be accepted. Draco saw no reason why it shouldn't.
The conversation eventually slowed, turning into idle chit-chat, and picking back up again when the Trolley Witch showed up at their door.
Eventually, what seemed like hours later, Draco had gotten up to go use the restroom. It was on his way back to the compartment when the train came to a sudden stop, jolting him so hard he fell against the wall. Then, with a flicker, all of the lamps went out, plunging the entire train into complete darkness. There were students poking their heads out, all murmuring the same thing.
"What happened?"
"Have we broken down?"
"I can't see!"
Draco was slowly walking, grabbing onto the walls and doors blindly, nearly smacking a younger student in the face.
"Harry? Hermione?"
Silence.
It had gotten eerily quiet and terribly cold in a matter of seconds.
"Lumos," Draco casted, his wand held at his side. He could somewhat see now, but his teeth were chattering. His hair was sticking up on his arms and the back of his neck.
He kept walking, slowly making his way back to the others when he saw something only ten feet away ahead of him.
Fuck.
It was a Dementor. Of course he knew what those monsters were, he was subjected to seeing them when they were forced to go visit his Aunt Bellatrix as a child.
Still just as demonic and horrific as always, the cloaked figure towered over him, slowly floating closer. Draco trembled in fear, taking a step back. His stomach contracted and his heart was racing. There were two gray, slimy, scabbed hands poking through the cloak, and Draco had to fight the urge to gag. It seemed to have fully noticed him now, gliding closer and closer. When it was barely a foot away, it drew in a long, deep, rattling breath. Draco couldn't move, his feet feeling like they were pinned to the floor.
His wand left his grasp, his grip becoming slack. Draco felt the freezing cold reach his bones, and a horrifyingly familiar, haunting voice filled his head. No. No! Not AGAIN! No! Get out!
"Pathetic excuse for a Malfoy."
"I will take your very essence and kill the Boy Who Lived after he sees what is left of you."
Draco's eyes rolled to the back of his head and the last thing he felt was hitting the floor of the train with a thump, the feeling of being dragged down stronger than his ability to fight back.