Chapter Text
June-ish, 1994 12:00AM
Nondescript Farm
Draco landed them on the first farm he spotted. There were huge stalks of grass which made for a perfect hiding place for Buckbeak.
“All right, Beaky. Just lie low and wait for us. If all else fails, pretend you’re a chicken,” Draco instructed.
Beaky shot him an indignant look at the last comment but proceeded to crouch low on the ground.
Draco turned to his illicit passenger and found him missing. Merlin’s socks, they weren’t even twenty minutes in this godforsaken trip and he’d lost Sirius already.
His cousin, thankfully, had not wandered far and Draco found him lying on the grass looking the picture of contented country living.
Sirius beckoned him with a manic wave. “Little cousin, come on. Extract that stick up your arse and lie down. Feel the grass, smell the air, see the stars. This is what life is all about.”
“There’s a literal pile of shit near your head, Grims.”
Sirius looked contemplative. “So that explains the smell.”
Draco decided to give him a forceful prod with his foot. “If you haven’t noticed Grims, we have a rather tight schedule here. Harboring the most wanted felon in all the wizarding world doesn’t allow us much time to frolic in the fields.”
“A shame, really, but it feels nice to be wanted.” Sirius eyed him with interest. “So you do have a plan then?”
Did he have a plan?
“Naturally,” he replied with a confidence he absolutely had no right to have. “We need to get some clothes here so we can blend in the muggle world.”
“By get, you mean steal, don’t you?”
“Semantics, my dear Grim.”
A huge grin formed on his cousin’s face. “Oh man, that makes me miss my leather jacket. You think they’d have it here on my size?”
“In a farm in the middle of fuck all?” Draco thought the answer was obvious, but when he saw Sirius’ expression, he added, “If I say yes, will you cooperate?”
Sirius shot to his feet at once and soon, they were darting across the field towards the lone farm house in the middle of nowhere. Unsurprisingly, there were no leather jackets in sight, but Sirius seemed unbothered.
“Why do muggles hang their clothes outside, you reckon?” Sirius asked as he sniffed what looked to be a lady’s brassiere.
“I don’t know, Grims, maybe displaying your ugly clothes is a deterrent to those who might think to rob you. Like saying, don’t waste your time. We own nothing of value.”
“I like this one. It has a million buckles!” Sirius exclaimed, holding out a strange, denim monstrosity.
At first glance, it looked like the world’s baggiest trousers but then Draco realized that it was also connected to a scandalous top portion that was further attached to straps with buckles. It was like someone had started sewing, and was unable to stop until the fabric had run out.
“I think they call these dungarees!” Sirius said.
Draco held his censure to himself. Far be it for him to keep something from Sirius that seemed to delight him. He was going to chalk the lack of taste on his cousin’s prolonged incarceration.
Draco, on the other hand, chose a much more respectable attire. It was in black cotton with prints of tiny white daisies. Much like robes, it fell below his knees but it had short sleeves instead. There was also a tie he could wrap around his middle to hold it together, and Draco did so, perfecting it into a pretty bow.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a dress, little cousin,” said Sirius.
Draco gave him a measuring look. “And I’m pretty sure you should be wearing a shirt inside that hideous thing, Grims. I’m seeing far too much of your chest hair to be comfortable.”
Sirius grumbled but he picked out a shirt anyway.
Once settled, he turned to Draco. “So where next, oh fearless Captain?”
Right, Captain, that was him. Draco could only pray that their ship wouldn't sink before it ever really sailed.
---
June-ish, 1994 12:45 AM
Unidentified Petrol Station
Draco had read about this in Hermione’s notes. Anything one could ever need in a hurry could be found in a muggle petrol station, where they had a store that never closed, and all the knick-knacks in all the world.
Being a true artiste, Draco did his best to inject an air of casual experience when he stepped in the store while Sirius ruined it by bounding in like a starving jackal.
“Oooh, check these out. These are called sunglasses,” Sirius said, holding out the item with a reverence one usually reserved for a holy relic.
“What do they do?” Draco eyed a purple one in the shape of a heart with extreme suspicion.
Sirius shrugged. "Damned if I know. I just think it looks really cool.”
Draco couldn’t deny that. Some of them did look pretty cool, so they spent a long time perusing the selection. In the end, Sirius opted for the silvery reflective ones that made Draco’s head ridiculously huge when he stared into it while Draco opted for a simple, all-black frame and lens with the words Ray-Ban on the side.
He fancied himself looking quite chic and stylish — possibly much like the mysterious Ray of Ban who owned it.
He left Sirius to his own devices and assumed the responsibility of currying favor with the shopkeeper — a favor they were in dire need of considering they actually had zero muggle money.
“Hullo, good sir, are you the proprietor of this fine establishment?” Draco greeted with a flourish.
The man behind the counter grunted which Draco took as an affirmative.
“We’ll take these.” Sirius dumped the considerable contents of his basket on the counter, paused, then took a lollipop from a plastic container. “And this too.”
The man gave them a dead-eyed stare. Draco responded with a winning smile. Sirius sucked his lollipop.
Then the shopkeeper asked the dreaded question. “Cash?”
Draco faltered, but he pulled out a gold Slytherin pin he always wore on his tie. It was more of a habit than anything, and he wouldn’t miss it. “Would this be acceptable?”
It was gold, sure, and maybe the eyes were made of tiny emeralds, but the man stared at it like it was the crown jewels — if the crown jewels were also laced with poison.
He shot Draco a nasty stare. “Are you fucking with me, kid?”
“N-No…”
“Do you have a problem with my nephew?” Sirius leaned on the counter, and dipped his sunglasses ever so slightly, unleashing the full effect of his noble pedigree. Less effective with the cherry lollipop and denim dungarees but still.
“Nephew?” The man gave Draco a surprised look.
“What? What did you think I was?” This time, it was Draco who joined Sirius in leaning menacingly on the counter. Less effective what with being fourteen and scrawny but still.
“Er…thoughtyouwereagirl,” The man mumbled.
What ?
“Well, it is a reasonable assumption, kid.” Sirius gave him an appraising look. “With your hair and your dress, you remind of Narcissa when she was a girl.”
Draco’s temper fizzled out. It was certainly no terrible burden to be compared to his beautiful mother, although he did have a point to make. “Excuse you, my hair makes me look distinguished.”
Sirius grinned at him. “Sure it does. Brings out the blue-blooded snob in you.”
Draco turned to the man who was watching their exchange woodenly. “So are you taking it or not?”
The good proprietor took the money, and quite hastily too. He even allowed them use of their dubious lavatory.
“Well, well, well. There was a person underneath all that grime. Who fucking knew?” Draco clapped his hands as Sirius shook his newly cut, wet hair furiously. “Now it’s time to shave that awful beard situation you have going.”
Sirius clasped his face protectively. “What? What’s wrong with it? I think it makes me look like a pirate.”
“Yeah, the kind that gets walked off the plank.”
They argued for a bit on how to do it, with Sirius insisting on borrowing Draco’s wand and doing it magically, while Draco wanted to try his hand on using the muggle artifact the proprietor had called a ‘razor’. When Draco missed Sirius’ artery by a hair, they went the magical way.
Customers had started arriving by the time they left the loo, prompting a hasty exit. Draco considered their options. They needed to go somewhere with no people, yet not quite depressingly abandoned, if that made any sense. After all, Sirius had spent 12 years in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit.
That was depressing enough.
They spent some time aimlessly flying before Draco found exactly what he was looking for.
---
June-ish, 1994 1:30 AM
Muggle Zoo
They started for the penguins first, mostly because it called to Beaky like a magnet or a signal, and they had no choice but to follow unless they wanted to get dragged. The African penguins, as the sign said, lived in an enclosed area with a pool and rocks that simulated their real environment.
The poor creatures scattered in a panic when Beaky arrived, with most diving into the pool to hide. Of course, Beaky thought this was a game and jumped into the pool with gusto. It took some time before they realized Beaky wouldn’t eat them (probably), but the penguins had calmed enough by now, and were teaching the hippogriff how to slide on its stomach into a dive in the pool.
It wasn’t going all that well but Beaky was an enthusiastic learner, if anything.
Draco and Sirius observed the proceedings for a while, each chewing their own muggle snacks.
It was Draco who spoke first. “God, could you imagine if this was your animagus?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Sirius burst out with feeling. “It can’t even fly!”
“Can’t even walk right!”
“Imagine if Moony turns into a werewolf and he saw this weird bird?” Sirius was gesturing wildly, taking the penguins’ existence as a personal affront. “What are you going to do to a werewolf? Swim him into submission?”
Draco began laughing. “Imagine —” He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die choking on a Jaffa cake. “— I-Imagine working your arse off for three years on illegal magic so you could help your werewolf friend only to turn into this.” Draco paused to catch his breath. “Merlin, with my luck, that’s exactly how I’d have ended up. Don’t even know how you did it, Grims. You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t talk about my balls, kid.” Sirius grinned, bits of crisps clinging to his lips which he licked away with a smack. “It was definitely worth it.”
“Because you loved them, your friends,” Draco said without thinking.
Sirius lost his grin so Draco decided to lighten the mood by testing a theory he’d been considering since the shack. “Yeah, I reckon you definitely love your Moony.”
“Shut up!” Sirius gasped, looking like the very image of a blushing maiden. Interesting.
“You want to kiss him,” Draco pressed.
“You really shouldn’t be teasing a criminal, little cousin,” Sirius warned gruffly.
Draco was not the least bit concerned. “Pssh. Falsely accused. Now, go on, admit it. You’ve got the hots for my teacher.” He elbowed his cousin teasingly. “When he walked in the shack, your face went all…” Draco did his best lovelorn-pining-for-my-lover-and-now-he-hath-returnedth face. “I can see why, though. It’s probably cause he’s so intellectual and kind and caring and cute and you’re…you. So opposites attract and all that.”
“Piss off, you little brat. I was quite the catch in my day," Sirius said, then his face became somber. “It’s all messed up anyway. We can’t — we can’t go back to who we were.”
Draco acknowledged this with all of his fourteen years of wisdom. “You can’t go back, that's true, but it doesn’t mean you can’t make something of what's left. It doesn’t mean you have to give up on your Moony-love.”
He waited for Sirius to respond, but the fool went back to eating his crisps with a vengeance.
Draco snatched the snack from Sirius’ hands, ensuring his attention, before he made his point. “Oh my god, Grims, do you really need me to tell you that while you were making googly eyes at Lupin, he was making googly eyes right back? Are you twelve?”
Sirius looked shocked. “Wh-What?” Then his lips stretched into a goofy smile. “He did?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you are twelve!” Draco cried in frustration. Merlin help him if he would ever be this oblivious. “If you’re going to ask me to pass little love notes, I’m going to feed you to the lions.”
Sirius fidgeted with his hands. “It’s just — It’s hard to tell anymore how people feel. It’s been years since I’ve been with real people.”
Well, now Draco just felt bad. “Ugh. Just…just use this time to get it together. You need to lie low for now but we’ll clear your name, I promise. So just don’t lose yourself, okay? You deserve to be happy.”
Sirius nodded with no small amount of doubt and Draco decided they needed a change of scenery.
“Look, I need to tell you something but we need to be comfortable.”
Sirius perked up. “So the lions then?”
“NO!”
---
The pandas were sleeping when they came, but didn’t seem to mind when the two humans nestled among them. Draco laid his head on the soft, furry belly of one and stared at the bamboo shoots above them. Sirius was beside him, curled up on his own panda, looking utterly bewildered.
“So let me get this straight.” He was lying on his side, facing Draco. “You got stomped on the head and lost all your memory? All of it?”
Draco fiddled with a bamboo leaf and replied, “Pretty much.”
“By the hippogriff? The one you call Beaky with extreme affection?”
“We got over it. We’re good now.”
Sirius lifted a meaningful brow at that. “And no one knows?”
“Just a few of my friends.”
“Harry? Hermione?”
“I should clarify. When I say friends, I mean Slytherins.”
"Oh, really?" Sirius said with interest. “Why just them then?”
Draco released the leaves like little confetti. “I suppose, there was little to no point to it, at first. You should have seen Weasley after my injury. Idiot said I was just faking it, and I deserved it.”
Sirius’ eyes narrowed at that. “I feel less guilty about breaking his leg now. In fact, maybe I should’ve bit him harder.”
It was comforting, in a sense, to know someone out there cared enough to bite his enemies.
“He’s got a point though,” Draco added. “I mean, you definitely should have bit him harder. Bite away, Grims, but he was right to be suspicious. For all intents and purposes, I was a right terror before I lost my memories.”
Sirius whistled. “So this is you not being a terror?”
Draco kicked him in the leg which Sirius dodged expertly. Draco flicked some grass at him instead.
“You should tell Harry and the rest,” Sirius said as he retaliated by throwing bits of dirt and leaves at him.
Draco was annoyed, and not just because some of the dirt got in his eye. “I didn’t tell you this so you could give me life advice, Grim. I’m the one dispensing therapy here.”
“Funny that since I don’t feel the scars of my past healing.”
“Cause you’re a blockhead so that’s no reflection on my skills.” Draco released a deep sigh. “What I’m saying, before you so rudely derailed my thoughts, is that I can’t change who I was before.” He turned intent eyes on Sirius. “And you can’t change any of the shit that happened years ago. But whoever we are now and will be, that’s our choice, so the proper thing to do would be to try not to completely fuck it up.”
Sirius chewed on that. “Try not to completely fuck it up? That’s your big advice, Mr. Therapy Man?”
“I know, right? However will you manage that?”
“That was a whole lot of ‘we’ and ‘our’ in your speech, little cousin.” Sirius was observing him intensely, no longer playing around.
Draco wasn’t either so he said, “We’re family, aren’t we?”
He had a feeling about this man, like they were kindred in a way that went beyond blood.
Sirius gave him a wry smile. “Sorry, little cousin, I don’t exactly have the best history when it comes to family.”
Draco was trying not to show his disappointment when Sirius said, “Like you said, though, that was in the past.” He shook his head like he was throwing off exactly those memories, a slight smile twisting his lips. “That was pretty good advice for a kid, actually. I promise I’ll try not to fuck it up.”
Draco was satisfied with that. They shared a peaceful moment before the pandas rolled over, and nearly crushed them both.
---
They were finally in the lion enclosure because Sirius’ exhausting campaign of persistent whingeing had finally broken Draco down. He was able to talk down Sirius to sitting atop some rocks at a safe distance instead of petting the creatures, though, so Draco considered that a win.
His cousin was staring at the lions with stars in his eyes. “Oh look at them. So big and teethy and dangerous.”
“How very Gryffindor of you.”
Sirius winked at him. “And you better not forget it, kid.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, Sirius.”
Maybe it was the Sirius that did it because the man’s attention snapped to him immediately.
Draco felt nervous but pressed on. “Was it hard, you know, running away and leaving the Black house?”
If Sirius was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “Sure it was hard." His voice sounded less firm when he added, “I had a little brother. He was a little snot but, see, he was too young to look at the big picture. I could’ve — if I didn’t leave…but he’s dead now. So it was hard, but it was harder to stay.”
Draco didn’t understand. “Why did it have to be something drastic? Couldn’t you—“
Sirius cut him off harshly. “There is no middle ground here, Draco. Not for people like us, and not in this war.”
“We’re not in a war anymore.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re right.”
They were silent for a while until Sirius spoke.
“Your mother has a sister, Andromeda."
Draco turned to him in surprise, but Sirius kept talking.
"She married a muggle-born so everyone pretends she doesn’t exist or that she doesn’t have a daughter that’s as much Black as we are.” He put his hands on Draco’s shoulders as if to ensure he not only heard the next words, but felt it too. “Draco, what I’m saying is you can’t look at me as the only example of when people leave.” He laughed but it sounded strained. “I’m the extreme worst case scenario but I want you to know that there are others…like Andromeda. I think she’s happy wherever she is.”
Draco felt like he’d stepped on a landmine, and one wrong breath would send them all flying. His mother had a sister who….
Sirius must have been worried because his voice became unusually gentle. “For what it’s worth, I think you have it in you to make the right choices.”
Draco snapped out of his reverie to ask. “Do you think you did?”
Sirius looked bitter. “Not always. Not when I…when I changed Secret-Keeper with Peter but everything else?” Sirius sighed. “I’d do it a hundred times over.”
---
They parted at the entrance of the zoo.
“All right, you take this one. My hair looks terrible here.” Draco handed Sirius the other copy of their pictures. They found a ‘photo booth’ and after pressing all the buttons and screaming at it (Sirius), managed to take several muggle pictures. They tried to squeeze Beaky in, of course, but only his beak fit in the frame.
“I’m going to miss you, little cousin.” Sirius wrapped him in a hug, all bones and scratchy fabric. It felt good.
Draco squeezed him back. “Write to me and if Beaky gets hurt, I swear I’ll hunt you down.”
Beaky nudged him affectionately at that and Draco went to hug him as well. “Take care, Beaky. If you get in a spotty situation, you have my permission to save your own arse and leave Sirius to his fate.”
Beaky squawked in agreement and Draco patted him one last time. Merlin, he hadn’t even brought Beaky his hat.
“You can leave me, Beaky, but would you want to?” Sirius waggled his eyebrows at the hippogriff who only snapped at him menacingly.
“Bloodthirsty bird,” Sirius muttered.
“Um, Grimmy, before you go.” Draco pulled out all his money from his pockets, leaving only enough for the Knight Bus which was still a considerable amount, and held it out for Sirius to take.
Sirius looked at it in alarm. “What the —“
Draco added his gold pocket watch that was probably another useless family heirloom. “Let’s not pretend I’m not filthy rich, Grims. I know it’s going to take a while before you can access your own funds.”
Sirius closed his mouth and smirked. “Brat.”
“I expect full payment with interest,” Draco said in a haughty tone.
Sirius only tipped his imaginary top hat in acknowledgement then swung himself on top of Beaky. “Well, this is it then.”
They stared at each other. Blacks, it has to be said, were not good at goodbyes.
“Stay alive.” A statement. A wish.
“Aye, Captain,” Sirius responded with a salute then Buckbeak was launching them into the skies.
It was tempting to watch them until they disappeared but Draco didn’t linger. Instead, he sat on the pavement and waited for the Knight Bus.
---
June-ish, 1994
Hogwarts
For all that the day prior was filled with upheaval and misfortune, Draco’s return to Hogwarts was fairly uneventful. He was mostly ignored in the Knight Bus with only the conductor bothering to ask him his business.
“Wotcha there lil’ girl.” The boy, who looked only a few years older than Draco, greeted. “’oo might ya be?”
“Um,” Draco could do this. He was a Slytherin, master of subterfuge, but what came out was, “Gatsby.”
Fucking Blaise.
“Gatsby, eh? Firs’ name?”
“Er, Sherlock?”
Thankfully, the boy was an idiot and believed he was a girl named Sherlock Gatsby. Good grief. He thought his nerves would never recover but Draco fell asleep the moment his head hit the bedstead.
Once he was in Hogsmeade, it was easy enough to sneak into Hogwarts using Potter’s cloak. Who knew sneaking around with Potter would become useful? Then again, he was also in this situation because of the prat so Draco supposed they were even.
He finally made it to his dormitory at eight in the morning. He couldn’t wait to sleep the rest of the day away but alas, it was not to be because this was his life. Draco hadn’t realized how it must look--him wearing a flower dress (yes, he acknowledged that Sirius may be right about this one) with his face half-covered with sunglasses, but going by his dorm mates reaction, it was positively the height of scandal.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s me, you idiots!” Draco removed the glasses while the rest stopped their screaming to stare at him.
“Where the hell have you been?” Theo cried the same time as Blaise said. “What are you wearing?”
Draco was starting to feel the opening strings of a full migraine orchestra.
“Listen,” Draco wracked his brain but all he heard was the muggle pop song blaring in the muggle store. Whatta man, whatta man…what a mighty good man.
“Well, go on then, Draco. We’re listening,” Greg prompted.
“I was at a party at…er, Gryffindor Tower.”
With the way the atmosphere in the room changed, one would think Draco had just admitted to smuggling a criminal out of Hogwarts. He was starting to think his housemates would find that the more appealing option.
It was Blaise who spoke first, “Was it an ugly dress party by any chance?”
“Do they take off their shirts in their parties, Draco?” This was Greg.
“Who snogged who?”
Apparently, there was a lot of interest in what went on the lauded tower of the reckless brave and Draco was soon fielding questions left and right. Yes, the twins had the tendency to dance half naked. No, it was not Gatsby themed. Yes, Parvati made out with Lavender Brown. No, it was not an ugly dress party and yes, Draco did look good in his sunglasses.
“Well, you missed quite a lot, Draco,” said Theo. “Did you know that they almost caught Black but he escaped last night?”
Oh boy, did he ever know.
Naturally, what he said was, “Again? The incompetency here is staggering.”
“Professor Snape told us this morning. Apparently, Professor Lupin’s a werewolf too.”
This time, Draco’s shock was very real but he forced himself to reply, “Figures with this bloody incompetent school, we’d get a beast for a teacher.”
Draco winced internally at his words but it had to be said and it worked too because his friends all nodded their agreements. He exchanged a few more words with them, trying to not make it obvious that he was panicking. God, oh god, did Snape really tell Lupin’s secret? Fucking hell, he had to find Lupin.
Once he was out of the infernal dress and into proper robes, he sprinted for Lupin’s classroom. He made it just in time to overhear Dumbledore offer to escort Lupin to his carriage. Fuck, fuck.
“I’ll take him!” he cried as he burst into the room.
“Malfoy!” It was Potter, spitting mad and looking like he was just about ready to charge at Draco. Really, was he that miffed about the cloak? He’d return it now if only the teachers weren’t present.
“Sorry, Potter. Maybe later!” He turned to a stunned Professor Lupin. “Come on, Professor. Let me take that for you.” He grabbed the grindylow tank sans grindylow and nearly toppled over. He braved it though, and dashed outside before Potter could stop him from talking to Lupin in private.
“I think you better hand that over, Mr. Malfoy, before we end up carrying it in pieces.”
Draco didn’t argue with that and returned the tank to Lupin. His arms were shaking like bamboo leaves. “Call me, Draco, Remus. May I call you Remus?” Since we’ll be family cause you’ll marry my cousin, was what Draco didn’t say.
Remus gave him a wry smile. “That’s fine, Draco. As of today, I’m not your professor any longer.”
Draco frowned. “I’m…I’m sorry about that. I should have been there when Snape told. I could’ve stopped him.”
Remus put a hand on his shoulder. Salazar, was he carrying the tank one-handed? Werewolves were freaking awesome.
“I heard about what you did from Harry. That was a brave thing you did, going with Sirius.” Remus paused. “Very reckless too, I might add.”
“I couldn’t help it. He was all alone.”
Remus dropped his hand and looked away. “Is he…”
“He’s still alone, Remus.” Draco decided this was his opening. “But he doesn’t have to be, right?”
Remus’ gaze snapped to him. “What are you —”
“Well, I mean since you’re alone and he’s alone and he’s on the run and you’re out of a job, wait, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Draco panicked but Remus only laughed.
“It’s fine, Draco. None of the things you said were untrue, technically.”
“It’s just…” Draco took a deep breath. “I know where he’ll be. At least, for the next two weeks and I really think he could use a friend.” Boyfriend, Lover, Someone to cuddle with, was what he meant but maybe Remus could figure that out himself.
Remus still looked hesitant so Draco decided to tug on the largest, most sensitive string of them all. “Maybe friend isn’t the right word.” He cast him his most earnest look, the type you developed from studying Hufflepuffs in their natural habitat, and said, “Remus, what he really needs is a fellow marauder.”
Hook meet line meet sinker. Remus Lupin was done for. His face did this thing where it crumpled then broke then reformed. Draco practically heard him shatter into tiny pieces but unlike the tank, it wasn’t magic that could put it back together. Not unless love was a kind of magic.
God, all those damned muggle books were turning him into a fool.
Before they reached the carriage, Remus asked him for Sirius’ location. His former professor looked surprised when he told him.
Draco grinned. “He said that you always dreamed of seeing the world but all your plans always started there.”
Remus looked in danger of bawling. “Draco, I don’t know what to say. I’m--”
“Just take care of him please. He’s a lot, I know, but don’t give up on him.” Draco paused before adding, “Also, he owes me money so I’d really like him alive.”
Remus finally departed but not before agreeing to all of Draco’s stipulations which were actually quite a lot — from writing to him often to making sure Buckbeak wears a hat for the cold.
Draco stood there for a while on the edge of the castle grounds, watching the carriage roll away until the sun was shining obnoxiously on his face. It barely bothered him though since he’d finally figured out what the bloody sunglasses were for.
---
June-ish, 1994
Hogwarts
Seeing that he seemed to be having some luck in sorting out other people’s business, Draco figured he could transfer that energy into his own. So it was with some heavy trepidation that Draco walked to the Hufflepuff entrance, carrying a cake he’d filched from the kitchen.
He’d asked one of the students passing by to send a message. In true Hufflepuff fashion, this task was not only accepted but promptly completed because Justin was outside in only a few minutes.
It was too awkward to say anything at first, so they both just stared at each other. It’s strange because he hadn’t really looked at Justin like this in a while, mostly cause he was afraid of what he would find. Maybe he was expecting to see the other boy look tired or sad, damaged by Draco’s actions, but Justin looked perfectly fine, if a bit anxious. It seemed that Justin was studying him too because the boy looked surprised by Draco’s recent fashion choices.
“Draco, are you wearing wayfarers?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Um, your sunglasses.”
“Right, it’s a long story.”
Justin bit his lip. “I’m guessing it’s something you can’t tell me then.” The illusion of fine broke when tears started gathering in his eyes. Clearly, Draco was still not done hurting him. “I should’ve known, really, how could Draco Malfoy even like me. I'm just —”
“No, don’t say that.” Draco would have hugged him had his hands not been full with cake. He settled for leaning in close so Justin could see every emotion on his face and know that whatever he said, he meant. “Don’t say that. You’re amazing and good, Justin. So much better than me. Like, it’s crazy how you even gave me a chance when I was such a little shit in the past —”
“You weren’t to me.”
“Well, I certainly was to others.”
Justin couldn’t argue with that.
“I want to tell you a few things, okay?” Draco knew that, out of everyone in the world, it was Justin who deserved to hear the whole story so when the other boy nodded, he forced himself to tell him about losing his memory. When he was finished, Justin was staring at him, brown eyes filled with confusion and then a kind of understanding.
“So that’s why…”
“I’m not a good person, Justin. I wouldn’t have changed if I hadn’t lost everything.”
“You are good, Draco, and you’ve proven it.” Justin shook him just a little bit, not enough to startle the cake though, because he was considerate like that. “Everything you’ve done since then is who you really are.”
Draco let him believe that. “I’m really sorry, Justin. You were right about me being different people. I had no business getting into a relationship when I haven’t even figured out myself yet.” He allowed all the remorse he felt show on his face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or to be friends —”
“I would like that, Draco.” Justin’s face melted into that familiar grin. “I’d like to be friends.”
Draco could have hugged him but again, bloody cake. He would have flung the dessert and damned the consequences when the ever timely Susan Bones peeked out of the entrance.
“Justin, we’re starting — OH MY GOD, Draco?” She jumped out and, in a flash, was in Draco’s face. “Draco, we missed you. Why haven’t you been hanging out with us? We know you and Justin broke up but that’s no excuse.”
Ernie Macmillan followed close behind. “Too right! We’ve been saving marmalade for you, Draco. Bit of a waste but, oh, is that for the party?” He pointed at the cake.
Draco was tempted to fling it in their faces if only to make his escape. “Um, what party?”
Justin pushed his way in front of his friends to wrap an arm around Draco. “Yeah, it’s the Hufflepuff year-end party. Come and join us. They’ll be so excited to see you.”
True enough, they really were beside themselves when he arrived. Not one person went by that didn’t compliment Draco on his sunglasses. He could only send a silent prayer of thanks to Monsieur Ray of Ban.
---
June-ish, 1994
Slytherin Common Room
Draco was not able to return to his common room until well into the evening. Each time he attempted to leave, the Hufflepuffs somehow managed to latch onto him with gentle yet persistent fervor and drag him into another party game or other. It was after the nicest round of Truth or Dare he’d ever played in his life that he decided he had to leave.
He’d lose all his rights to be a Slytherin if he ever had to answer “What’s your dream charity?” to truth or get dared to “Give Zacharias Smith a comforting hug for ten minutes.” At one point, he’d dared Cedric to take his shirt off and they actually all left the room so Cedric could have his privacy.
That wasted opportunity was the final nail in the coffin for Draco.
“And where have you been all this time, Draco love?” It was Pansy, lounging on the chaise, getting a foot massage from Blaise of all people.
Draco felt it was pointless to lie. He was, after all, wearing a yellow and black flower crown fashioned by Professor Sprout herself. “Hufflepuff party.”
He gave them time to work through their short range of human emotions and took this as an opportunity to flop on the couch beside Theo. The other boy flung a pillow at him and Draco shoved him back.
“You know, I’m really trying to imagine what that’s like,” Blaise’s face was scrunched up in thought, a terrifying prospect usually. “But my mind can’t come up with anything that traumatizing.”
Pansy kicked his hand away to lean over. “All right, Draco love, two questions: Did Diggory take his shirt off and if yes, six or eight pack? An illustration would be nice.”
Draco was silent for a while before he exploded. “Oh my freaking god, Pans! You can’t imagine how mad I am! He fucking did but, but they had me leave and I was…”
Pansy listened to him intently, gasping in outrage and crying for justice at all the right moments, while the rest of his friends looked disturbingly sympathetic to their plight.
It was in the middle of reenacting the most considerate game of Twister in the history of party games, that Marcus Flint pulled Draco aside. For a moment, Draco feared he’d be facing the consequences of the ill-fated shower room incident but his captain only dragged him to his room to show him the Mini-Quidditch pitch.
“It’s yours,” said Flint with zero flourish.
“Thank you?” Draco eyed the thing in confusion. “But why?”
“For Quidditch.”
God, it’s like Flint was being charged per word out of his mouth.
“Yes, I know it’s for Quidditch and not for fucking baking, Flint! I’m asking why you’re giving it to me.”
“Use it to win the Cup. They’ll make you Captain.”
“But I’m not —”
“You’ll be captain, Malfoy.” Flint insisted.
“God, does that mean I’m going to go crazy too?”
Flint gave him a stare which implied that if Draco would keep this up, he’d be leaving on a stretcher. So Draco grabbed the cursed thing but not before he noticed the picture of Oliver Wood on Flint’s bedside.
Not one to let an intriguing bit of gossip go, Draco nudged Flint in the arm. “So, you and Wood, huh? What’s the plan now that you’re graduating?”
Flint’s face warmed and he smiled — a terrifying and not at all reassuring sight. “We both got scouted.”
“Oooh…”
“Rival teams, though.”
“OOOOHH…”
Flint knocked him in the shoulder playfully, but being the brawny, overly muscled guy that he was, meant he nearly sent Draco tumbling against the wall.
He had a thought. “You should sell this idea, Flint. You’d make a lot of money.”
“I don’t really —”
“You could buy a love shack for you and Wood.”
Flint shut his mouth and considered it. Finally, he said. “So, uh, how — how would I do that?”
They settled on the bed as Draco, master of love and promising entrepreneur, explained all the ways Flint could channel his invention into creating the perfect love nest for him and Wood. When Draco agreed that said nest could be Quidditch-themed, Flint offered him 15% commission on his invention and a business partnership was born.
---
June-ish, 1994
Great Hall
The next morning brought on the moment Draco had been dreading the most. They had finally been given their grades for the year.
“Is he gonna be all right?” Greg asked.
“Well, let’s be honest, Gregory. He was never really quite right in the first place,” said Blaise.
Pansy slapped him on the head with a spoon and turned to Draco, concern written all over her face. “Would it help if we blasted some things, Draco love?”
Theo leaned over his shoulder to peek at his grades and let out a long whistle. “That’s quite a —”
“Excuse me.”
When Draco finally saw Hermione walking into the Great Hall with the rest of her goons, he lost control of his body and could only think of barreling into her at full speed. She only had time to release a small squeak of surprise before Draco was lifting her and spinning her around. Quidditch had given him muscles, who knew?
“WE DID IT!” he cried.
“WE DID!” Hermione waved her arms around in glee, fully enjoying the fantasy of being spun like a ballerina.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE WE TIED!”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ACED HISTORY OF MAGIC--”
“Malfoy!”
It was Potter, probably upset he wasn’t the star of the show for once and doing his best impression of the Underworld's sulkiest Grim Reaper. Draco put Hermione down gently, the giddy grin still stuck on his face, before turning to Potter. “Bloody hell, Potter, I’m going to return your fucking cloak. Just —”
“It’s not about the cloak! I need to —”
He never got to finish because at that moment, Dumbledore asked for their attention to make his final announcements. If it was to declare that the school was going to be closed down by the Ministry due to gross negligence and child endangerment, Draco wouldn’t be surprised.
He was headed back to the Slytherin table when Potter, the irrepressible git, clutched his sleeve.
“Malfoy, I —”
Draco shook him off. “Potter, we'll talk later. You have my fucking word.”
He arrived at the Slytherin table just in time to hear that Gryffindor had won the House Cup. As he watched the interior of the Hall change into garish scarlet and gold, Draco thought he would have preferred the school shutdown news.
---
June-ish, 1994
Hogwarts Express
It was a heart-pounding and gut-wrenching half hour, but Draco knew he was close. The color had finally shifted to green and he was clutching his final card like he’d been starving for days and this was his last ticket to a buffet.
“I don’t trust that look in his eyes,” Theo muttered as he observed Draco darkly. “You shouldn’t have changed it to green, Blaise. Damn you!”
“I fucking told you, yellow is awful on my complexion!” Blaise cried. “Nobody ever listens.”
“Can’t you make him draw four, Vince?”
Vince glanced at Draco. “Can I?”
“Do you have a draw four card?” Draco inquired.
“No.”
“Then, no.”
“What if I gave him one?” Greg offered.
“I didn’t know we could do that!” Pansy cried.
As the compartment devolved into yet another heated debate and Greg pulled out the battered list of instructions (which had been hexed and cursed more times than it should have been), the unlikeliest visitor barged in with all the delicacy of a rampaging bull.
“MALFOY!”
Here they go again. Draco shot up from his seat and flung his card on Blaise’s rotten face.
“Fucking uno, you tossers!” He turned to Pansy. “Be a dear and collect my winnings, love. Buy yourself something sweet from the trolley.”
Pansy giggled and kissed him on the cheek. The rest of his friends looked torn between shock at Potter’s appearance and outrage at suddenly having their coins taken away by Pansy’s swift-like-a-pickpocket fingers. Draco decided to give them privacy at this trying time and dragged Potter away by the arm.
“Come along, Potter. No dilly-dallying now. We’ve got things to discuss.”
Potter stumbled a bit but allowed himself to be dragged away. “Me? I haven’t been the one running off and disappearing in the bloody Hufflepuff common room —”
“What? How did you know that?” Draco stopped to face him.
Potter flushed and looked deeply regretful at all the choices that led him here. “Er, I just…Su-Susan told me.”
Oh, well that figures. Susan would tell you the combination to her Gringotts vault if you asked her.
“Bet that really bugged you, didn’t it?” Draco scoffed and, if possible, Potter only got redder. “Didn’t get to do your whole sneak routine on me.”
Potter crossed his arms sullenly. “Would have helped if I had my cloak.”
This again. Draco began unlacing the ties on his robes as Potter watched and clutched his imaginary pearls tighter.
“For fuck’s sake, Potter. Calm yourself. I’m not going to strip in the middle of the train.” Draco flung the Invisibility cloak at the other boy’s face which had the unexpectedly hilarious effect of making Potter appear as if he was standing around headless. Less amusing if someone had walked in on them but the other boy was quick as usual to stuff it in his robes.
“Well, if that’s all then I’ll be —”
Potter, handsy as always, grabbed his arm before he could even take another step. “Can you be still for just a bloody second, Malfoy? Sir — I mean, Grim sent us a letter.”
“Well, why the fuck wouldn’t you lead with that?”
---
They were finally seated inside Potter’s compartment but not before Weasley issued the world’s worst thank you that was basically “You are still kind of a git Malfoy but thank you for not kicking me when I was down”. Old Draco had set the bar pretty low, apparently, to the point that the bar might as well be in hell.
“So where is it?” Draco couldn’t sit still with anticipation.
Hermione handed him two letters. “We’ve already read the first one from Sir--I mean, Grimmy, but there’s another one from Lu — uh, Lulu for you.”
“Lulu?” Draco asked with distaste. “Is that final? Did we consent to that?”
When Potter and Weasley just shrugged, Draco figured they had time later to revisit this name choice and opened the letters posthaste. Sirius’ letter was quite generic: left stuff for Potter and Weasel, says he’s fine, etc. Though, he did add that Draco needed a haircut and should be kept away from razors.
Draco decided to grow his hair longer just to spite him.
“What’s that with razors?” Potter asked.
Draco waved him off. “Long story.” Then he was ripping Remus’ letter open.
We are well. I promise I have kept my word and followed all your stipulations--all 41 of them. I cannot thank you enough. You said that I was needed, but the truth is, I had a need of my own and you’ve given me the courage to find it. I’m leaving you with a piece of where we are. It is the power of the ocean contained in a fragile, innocuous little thing.
It reminds us of you and all that you have inside of you to offer.
Draco reached inside the parcel and held the seashell to his face. Remus had said it had the power of the ocean. Was it spelled? It wasn’t cursed, was it?
“Um, Draco, I think you put that in your ear like this.” Hermione made a motion with her hands.
Draco followed, privately hoping it wouldn’t explode or vomit sand on his face. He was at a loss here. Power of the ocean could mean anything.
“Do you hear it?” Potter asked eagerly and Draco was just about to demand what the heck he was talking about when he heard the resonating sounds of waves crashing into the surf.
Well, this was anti-climactic but quite pleasant in a way. Very much something one would expect from Remus Lupin. Perhaps Draco should just be thankful Sirius hadn’t been in charge of choosing gifts. Knowing Sirius’ fondness for the lethal and dangerous, Draco could have ended up with a sea urchin that spit acid instead.
“Wanna try it?” Draco threw the seashell at Potter who deftly caught it. Show off. “So is this it then?”
“Oh, wait, Draco, we haven’t given you your present yet,” Hermione said.
Draco perked up at that and rubbed his hands with glee. “That’s more like it.”
“Harry chose it.”
Draco lost a bit of his enthusiasm.
“You’re such a prat.” Potter flung a surprisingly well-wrapped box at him. It even had a ribbon tied in the fancy way he saw in the shops.
“This looks pretty.”
“It was Harry who wrap —”
“Open it,” Potter interrupted though he didn’t need to since Draco was already in the middle of unwrapping. He took special care in ensuring the ribbon stayed pristine.
When he finished, Draco couldn’t help but let out a gasp. The box contained a beautiful sketchbook with a green hardcover that had intricate gold vines on its edges as well as pencils of all kinds: graphite, colored, pastel, charcoal.
Potter nudged him. “So, do you like it then? Figured I should pay you back for using up all your inks.”
Draco turned to him, still feeling a little bit dazed. “I’m…holy fuck, this is really amazing, Potter.”
Potter beamed. “You haven’t seen the best part. I had to ask Mr. Weasley to get this for me and it took him probably ten times to get it right.”
Draco was intrigued. There was more? The answer was yes because underneath the sketchbook was a glossy magazine of some kind with colorful angry-looking figures in the most outlandish attires, looking exactly like how Potter had described the…
“Merlin’s fucking beard, Potter. Is this a comic book?”
Even Weasley couldn’t hold back his interest and was soon leaning over Draco’s shoulder like a parrot on a pirate. “Bloody hell! What the fuck is an X-Men?”
The next hour was spent reading and arguing about who was the better X-Men; Weasley was a fan of Cyclops while Draco was firmly on the side of Wolverine.
“Fuck’s sake, Weasley. The guy literally cannot die. He’s got knives for hands!”
“But does he shoot curses from his eyes, Malfoy? Does he?”
“Again, it’s called lasers,” Hermione chimed in.
Potter only watched them in amusement, having already made his case for Storm. Draco felt a strange impulse and decided to follow it.
“Potter, write down your address for me please.”
“What?”
“You’re reading too many comic books, honestly,” Draco rolled his eyes at his reaction. “I don’t have anything villainous planned. I need it so I can send you a gift on your birthday.”
The rest of the compartment stared like three lost fishes in an aquarium.
“Were you raised by wolves?” Draco asked. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you the art of gift-giving? It’s a custom to reciprocate.”
“Just to be sure, you’re going to send Harry a gift?” Weasley said the word gift in a way one might say ‘poisoned dagger’ or ‘your pet’s entrails’.
“Um, you don’t really have to —”
Draco shot a warning glare at Potter. “Don’t you start now. If you’re not giving it to me, I’ll knock on all the houses in your neighborhood.”
Potter turned bright red but he relented and wrote down his address. Fucking hell. One would think he was giving away the map to Merlin’s resting place the way he was carrying on.
Once he’d handed Draco the slip of paper, Potter seemed to gather himself to ask, “Does that mean you’re going to write to me?”
Draco couldn’t even fathom why Potter would ask that or even want that from him but then he didn’t need to because Theo came barging in a panic.
“Draco, bloody hell, I’ve been looking all over for you!” He pulled Draco’s hand, not sparing anyone else a glance. Not even at Potter who had grabbed Draco's other hand for some reason. “Come on, there’s been a crisis. Pansy and Blaise said ‘uno’ at the same time and now they’re starting a duel!”
Draco sighed and turned to Hermione. “This is all on you, just so you know.”
---
It wasn’t until the familiar sight of the Platform came into view that Draco started to feel the heavy weight of the journal he kept in his bag. He hadn’t opened it since Christmas and the only thing he’d ever written there were the words his father had spoken to him the night he’d made the deal to save Buckbeak. He didn’t need the journal to remember though because the words had become his mantra.
- A Malfoy must conduct himself to perfection in society
- A Malfoy must never come second to anyone
He’d done the first part easily enough at the ball but the second one was...he'd lost at Quidditch and tied with Hermione. So far, he hadn’t heard anything from his father and Buckbeak’s safety was no longer an issue. In most of the ways that mattered, Draco had done his duty. Would still continue to do it.
So why did he feel nervous?
He was spared from further anxiety when the crowd revealed only his mother waiting for him. Draco hadn’t even realized he was running until he collided with his mother with a loud thud. She didn’t scold him, though, and only held him tighter.
Draco inhaled the vanilla and sandalwood scent and allowed himself to feel all right even if it was just for now.
“Darling?”
“Hmmm…”
“Why is your trunk barking?”