sanctimonia vincet semper

It wasn’t often that Draco was by the counter of Malfoy Apothecary, but sometimes the situation simply called for it. Their store in Diagon Alley had been busy for a couple of weeks now and since he had the day off he (begrudgingly) volunteered to run the store for a day to give the franchise owner a breather. At a more quiet moment, Draco was taking a few notes in his journal by the counter when there were no customers. Seconds later, the door opened yet again. Looking up, Draco asked with his customer-friendly undertone, “Welcome to Malfoy Apothecary, how can I help you? If you’re looking to stock up on potions, we just got a new and fresh batch of healing potions in today.”

Normally Daphne didn’t mind slow days like today, they were a welcome break from the normal hustle and bustle that goes on in the shop. But today was excruciating. It had been four hours since someone had entered the shop and it felt like ten. If someone didn’t pop in soon to at least buy some owl pellets Daphne was going to lose it. If it was up to her she would close early, but since the Magical Menagerie wasn’t hers, she was just going to have to wait it out. 

Needing some sort of stimulation, Daphne grabbed a bag of treats and went to play with her favorite pet in the store. The gray and black spotted Kneazle looked up at her from his cage with a peaked interest when he saw the treats in her hand. As she got closer he jumped up and ran over to the gate pawing to get out. Daphne put the bag down on the counter and as she opened the cage door he immediately jumped onto her shoulder.  Daphne laughed as she placed him on the counter and grabbed a handful of treats. “Okay Merlin, you know the drill. For every trick, you get a treat. Show me what you got.” 

Daphne had been training Merlin since she started at the Menagerie and he was now a master of all tricks. Sit, stay, lay-down, roll-over, play dead, she ran him through them all. Once they ran out of tricks she began launching treats in the air for him to catch. It was during this moment she realized she wasn’t alone in the shop anymore. Daphne threw one last treat into his cage and when he jumped in, she shut the door behind him. Once she ensured the cage was locked she looked towards her audience and smiled. “Sorry about that, I didn’t hear you come in. What magical goods can I get you today?”

There were a number of shops in Diagon Alley that Draco Malfoy, as a general rule, did not enter. Most people assumed he wouldn’t dare to be found in Knockturn Alley or any of their shops, but they were wrong. Draco didn’t particularly care about the probation rules that the Ministry of Magic felt it fit to write up for him ( don’t breathe in the direction of Dark Magic was what it should have said), but as with every rule it was quite simple: just don’t get caught breaking them. Others that knew him better may think that he would never walk into the other apothecary, the competitor of his family’s apothecary. They would be wrong about that too, because he had learned to change the colour of his hair years ago and would be stupid not to use it, just as he would be stupid not to let himself be informed about what the competition was up to. No, the #1 Diagon Alley store that he did not enter? The Magical Menagerie.  Yet here he was, entering said store and immediately having to suppress the urge to take a step back from the multiple non-human eyes that were on him. Draco couldn’t deal with magical creatures or animals for that matter. His track record with them was terrible and he was convinced that all magical or non-magical animals just liked to mess with him. The spectacle that he saw - Daphne feeding a kneazle treats after doing tricks - did not change his opinion about creatures at all, because another known fact about them was that they took to others just fine, but not to him. He didn’t move from his place in the doorway, door barely closed, until the kneazle was safely back in its cage.  “None,” he replied to her question rather dryly. “I just came back from work and walked in to see if you wanted some company. It’s been slow for the Apothecary, so I assumed it may be a slow week in Diagon Alley altogether.” With that, he tentatively made his way towards the counter, eyeing multiple creatures on his way there. The things he did for his friends. “Plus, if people see a customer inside through the window they’re more inclined to come in themselves. Have you been selling any creatures at all as of late?” He added dryly: “And how have you been?”

What had made Theo reach out to Draco? He had connections, his family were notorious and he knew that there were a myriad of people who would not have hesitated to help him, but why Draco? He was one of his closest friends, sure, but he knew that of all people, Draco would understand the need. There didn’t need to be words exchanged between the two of them sometimes, and he recalled those September’s spent in silent train carriages, both boys carrying weights they didn’t need to speak to share. The entirety of those latter years had been a blur, but one thing in focus had always been the unwavering loyalty between them.

He knew of a vague description of Draco’s job, and of course, that was all he could know. But Theo knew his talents didn’t lie in the ministry. 

The question was a surprise to Theo, and he mulled over it for a moment. He could barely admit the truth to himself, and now, in this Muggle restaurant, the truth seemed far, far to difficult to fathom. He knew Draco would be able to see right through it, but he lied. A glimpse of the old Theo. “What do I want to do?” He delayed the lie, rolling it around in his mouth for a moment before uttering it smoothly. “Something with potions sounds palatable,” he nodded. “It wouldn’t matter if it were at Malfoy Apothecary, you know I’ve always had a proclivity for potions, even when we were younger,” he nodded. That wasn’t a lie; until the year Slughorn had passed over him for an invitation to the Slug Club, he’d rather enjoyed potions class. Of course, he was good at it, but the desire to do it well had long strayed. “I’d rather it stayed between you and I, I was hoping for some sort of small position, unimportant enough to avoid hard-to-answer questions,” he trailed off, not wanting to demand. He took a small sip of water, and then licked his lip before meeting Draco’s steely gaze, his own brows furrowing with seriousness.

“Father can’t know.” He affirmed. “Can you promise me that?” 

Apparently, what Theo said he wanted to do and what he was willing to admit on the one hand and what he really wanted to do and didn’t say were two very different things. Draco watched the other as he tried to find a way out of the question, only to realize there was none. There was a reason Draco was so direct and that was it: when you were direct, people could either tell you the truth or lie. Any evasion would be obvious immediately and right now, it was. Sure, both of them had been good (dare he say brilliant?) at brewing potions. For Draco it was in his blood. His grandfather and father too had been great at it and the family company in part revolved around potions. It made sense. Similarly, Draco remembered that Theo had always been good at Potions when Snape (in other words, an actual capable teacher) still taught it; they never had to worry about their grades for that particular class. Yet, did he want to end up brewing potions for the rest of his life? No, and that was why he hadn’t. Did he think that Theo wanted to? No, not really either. Yet, what Theo needed more was a way to get out of his father’s way, that much was clear, and Draco wasn’t one not to focus on what was most important.  “Let’s recap,” Draco said. “You want me to help you find a job. You want it to be a simple and unimportant job where no one notices you so word can’t get out that you took a job. More so, you don’t want to do a job interview with anyone because that means someone will know. In short, you’re hoping I can just give you a job without anyone else knowing.” What was the word again? Draco thought it was cronyism.  Before Theo could call him out on his bluntness or backtrack, Draco sighed and met the other’s eyes. “Fine,” he said. “My best suggestion is just brewing potions. I can give you whatever equipment you need and you can brew them at home. Just drop them off at the apothecary and I’ll see to it that you get paid.” He had other suggestions, of course, but this was the one best suited to Theo’s (list of) wishes. There was no middle man involved and no one even had to know who the stranger was that was brewing potions. 

   The puzzled note to Draco’s voice told Marcus that his attempt to be subtle about what he actually wanted to ask had backfired. “I was actually wondering if you ever became captain yourself, so probably should’ve just asked outright,” he admitted. “You had a lot of potential early on. Out-flew Higgs at your trial, that’s for sure.” That much, he remembered quite clearly, as well as subsequent practices (a lot of them). It didn’t really surprise him to hear that a lot of people were central to London nowadays. It was the main hub of magical activity for the country, after all.

   The corners of Marcus’ lips quirked up and he tilted his glass a little. “Firewhiskey. Fancy joining me on one?” Attentive to how Draco described the little of his job that he could, given the obvious restrictions, the quirk of lips eased into a grin a moment later. “So intriguing enough to keep your attention, for sure,” he said, intrigued and knowing that he could hardly ask further questions on the matter. “It sounds as though you enjoy the challenge. Couldn’t quite imagine you having a box-standard office job. No boardrooms for you, then?” Everyone in pureblood circles knew how that went when they were heirs to a family legacy. “What do you get up to when you’re not working?”

   Draco’s tone was dry and Marcus chuckled, shook his head. “Boredom’s answerable for a lot of things,” he remarked. “That’s one of the reasons I took up the profession I did. Guess neither of us like sitting on our hands, do we?” The words that followed made him wrinkle his nose, laugh ruefully. “Teenage me was definitely not the best, especially when I failed my exams. I really needed to chill. But it worked out in the end.” Even so, Oliver Wood was a memory he didn’t want to dwell upon. “Haven’t seen Wood since we left Hogwarts. Much prefer my present company, obviously, no contest there.” He tipped a quick wink in Draco’s direction at that. “Fourteen year old you had enough confidence to make it stick on the pitch and you had an impressive head for tactics. That was what I noticed and admired. We both had some growing up to do, so at least you can say you aged well?” The playful comment was impulsive, startled him into realising that he was enjoying Draco’s company. “Never knew you were that good at piano either, so guess I’m getting an education tonight. Got any more surprises for me?”

“Valerian, got that, chamomile, got that, lavender, had that for ages- ooh, a flitterbloom! Haven’t seen one of those in ages, and he’s such a wonderful wiggly little-” Hannah stopped, realizing that someone was standing right beside her.

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?”

Draco liked to browse - not necessarily even with the intention to buy, unless he came across something worthy of his money. What he didn’t like, however, was people in his way and talking out loud. “You have a weird list right there. Makes me wonder what you’re up to,” he replied dryly once the girl asked if he heard. “Flitterbloom? Are you certain that’s not Devil’s Snare?” He, too, had paid attention during Herbology.

Pansy met Draco’s side eye with an unblinking stare, daring him to question her absolutely factual statement. While the blonde might not have actively been coming after her title - and it certainly was a title, Pansy had bought herself a tiara last year and had everyone crown at her last birthday, it was divine - he was prone to a rather flamboyant catch phrase. At least in school he was. Nowadays, Pansy knew that Lucius didn’t have the foggiest notion of what Draco was doing anymore; and that was precisely how Draco liked it. Excluding that brand of dramatics, there was the small mention of the hippogriff incident in third year. It was perhaps one of the few times Pansy was genuinely angry at Draco, though neither of them ever acknowledged it. Pansy privately sobbed when the execution of the animal was announced. Very few people knew or understood Pansy’s ardent interest and devotion to magical creatures and she didn’t mention it much. When she was younger and begged her parents for a book about dragons, her mother made it very clear that magizoology wasn’t a proper hobby or career for a Parkinson lady, even for such a disappointment like Pansy.

Pansy merely nodded at his comment. She truly was and she deserved the world. “Speaking of your mother, she and I are going out for tea on Sunday. As always, you have an open invitation to come, but I do believe we’re heading to Twilfitt and Tatting’s after. I don’t think you want to get caught in yet another three hour conversation about the benefits of wearing seafoam versus mint to the next Ministry event. I have a feeling that we’ll be discussing shades of pink this shopping trip, so that might be far more interesting to you,” Pansy teased. She snorted after his following comment. “Don’t fret, Drakeykins,” she cooed, using the nickname she called him a total of once during their time at Hogwarts. Well, she only seriously used the name once; after his reaction, she found it the most hilarious thing in the world, and would often call him that in a sickly sweet tone whenever he annoyed her. Or she was drunk; it really depended on the situation. “I was just feeling lazy today. You know I far prefer adorable variations of your name to your legal name. Or insults of varying degrees of rude. I’ll be sure to use one or the other the next time you fuck up. Or,” she paused, pursing her lips. “a variation of both. You know, just to mix things up a bit.”

There were very few people that Pansy dealt with on regular basis that she communicated openly with, but Draco was, obviously, one of them. However, food was one subject that was complicated for both of them. They both had their problems - problems that neither of them liked talking about, thus, they were never brought up - so there was a feeling of mutual understanding of how fucked it had made them. So at the mention of take out, Pansy felt a mixture of hunger and guilt all at once; though the guilt subsided when Draco validated her desire for more food than what was basically a hangover cure. “Thai, obviously,” she answered, automatically. What she actually wanted was an entire box of chocolate covered strawberries but that wasn’t much more nutritious than what she had eaten previously. She snorted, tossing her head back. “Rita’s the opposite. She saw me yawn and made me another pot herself; said something about needing me at 100%.”

Pansy smiled as Draco sighed, always pleased to share the scandal she was exposed to with someone that had also grown up with secrets as their lifeblood. Wealth always attracted scandal, but within the Sacred 28, there were only three things that bonded them all together - the purity of their blood, a hunger for money and influence, and scandal. She giggled at his comment. “I know, right? I swear, it’s like half the reason I got into this; makes me feel so, so much better about how awful I am.” She smirked as he spoke, meeting his gaze. “Of course I’ll find her. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“That’s what I said. It seems like they’re going to try,” she said, nodding at the mention of physical healing. “Yes, I imagine it’s going to cause quite the stir. Perhaps not the most enjoyable stir,” she mused. Muggle politics reentering the public eye could turn ugly rather quickly. Even with the war behind them, and the idea that muggles weren’t evil leeches that needed to be weeded out, there were still many wixen that feared them. That fear could transfer to hate quicker than anyone wanted to admit; though, that is why the Dark Lord gathered so many followers so quickly. She pushed that thought aside the moment the Dark Lord entered her mind. She cleared her throat, grounding herself to the present be pressing her nails into her palm. “Though, I can’t complain. That’s precisely how I make a living, after all.”

She hummed noncommittally at the comment about Puddlemure. “She seems to. I think someone in the Sports division pissed her off so now she’s trying to get the story out before they can. The Saint Mungo’s one was my idea,” she added quickly. Her desire to enter more serious realms of journalism was a pipe dream that would never come to pass; she knew that and she didn’t like thinking about it. Besides, spinning half truths into sensational stories was what she was good at; no need to try something she knew she would fail at. “Honestly, I think the editors have suggested that she stop going for the obvious kill, so to speak. Therefore, for every five stories about sex, love, romance - you know, the thing that sells papers - she has to have at least one serious story. It’s been an utter drag.”

Tea and a shopping trip with his mother and his best friend and he was invited along, what a joy. It was a good thing that Pansy knew better than to assume he would want to come. He really didn’t. The discussion of colours for any sort of event seemed insane to him - it would probably have helped if he could tell shades of pink apart from each other, granted, but he didn’t -  and his mother enjoyed a good bit of gossip over tea that Draco had either already heard from Pansy or had no interest in hearing. He’d just have coffee with his mother on Saturday and hope she would not need to discuss what she heard the next Saturday. “You have fun with my mother,” he said. “Send my love, all the works,” he added, waving a hand as though to indicate the rest. “Just stop her when she walks towards the men’s section and thinks that either my father or me should wear a light colour. We can’t pull it off and she needs to stop thinking that we can.” It was just a fact that their hair did not go with white or any too light colour.  He just ignored Pansy when she tried the horrible, horrifying nickname on him. He thought they were more mature than that, but apparently that was wishful thinking. It was sort of petty to try to get him to react like that and Draco wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of doing so. He hardly thought he fucked up, as she put it, but this was just how Pansy was. She liked to drag things out, sometimes exhaustively so, instead of ask him why it slipped his mind and how his day was. “Thai it is then,” he said, checking his watch to check the time and wonder if he felt like dinner yet. “I’ll go and order it in soon. Not really in the mood yet. Are you?” It was always nice to get caught up on the scandal. It was merely one of many advantages to being friends with Pansy, though. But it was a good one. Now he knew what would be hitting the streets and going to the press long before anyone else knew it and if anyone ever thought they could tell his gossip, his standard reaction was to raise an eyebrow, smirk and say you wouldn’t say as though he had seen it coming all along. “I feel like people are going to be too hars on St. Mungo’s,” Draco said after a short pause. “They know what they’re doing. It’s their field of expertise, not ours. And if they feel like they can figure out better methods of healing than the ones used now, who is the general public to stop them?” The answer was simple: pretentious and scared idiots, that was who the public were. Obviously, Draco wasn’t a fan of muggles or anything they did, but he had his priorities straight: healing people well was more important than a dislike of muggles. “I guess I’ll have plenty of time to be annoyed when it makes the Prophet.” One could only assume that Witch Weekly wouldn’t bother with a story like that. Apparently, there was still time for him to be wrong. Draco raised his eyebrows and leaned back on the couch as he considered it. Of course, he was quite familiar with Rita himself. He had once helped her get the easy kill and he enjoyed every second of it. “I don’t get why they’re not letting her do what she’s best at and what others clearly want to read,” he said. Witch Weekly had been selling well for years; or at least, that was what Draco thought, because he always heard and saw people talk about the magazine and read it. “So the one about St.Mungo’s is the serious story as opposed to writing about people’s sexual escapades?” he asked, putting it into words. “I don’t know if they’ll sell more magazines with that. Surely not less.” But wasn’t selling more magazines what they wanted? “It sounds like a drag,” he agreed. “I get why you need more coffee for that.”

Honestly, Fay should’ve expected about as much. Why did she think Draco would take classes or go to a public gym? “I should’ve seen that coming.” She mused. “That sounds great. I’d like that.” She leaned toward him, not to invade his space, just enough to show she was comfortable with him. “You know, it won’t hurt you to try classes with other people. Or a gym with other people. How else are you going to learn the techniques and improve if you don’t see an instructor or practice with other people? Besides, it’s fun.” She thought about the few times she’s apparated and shrugged. “I’m decent. I haven’t gotten into any accidents or splinched myself, so that’s a good sign.” She just didn’t enjoy the sensation of apparating. 

Fay nodded. “North and South America, yes.” She admitted. “Almost through all of Europe. I believe I’ve got Russia, Greece, and Ukraine left. I was thinking about heading to Greece before my mother called me home.” She shot him a look of disbelief and surprise. “Your family owns peacocks?” She repeated. “I shouldn’t be surprised that your family owns peacocks, yet I am.” She looked at him, studying him seriously for a moment. “Do you have something against animals and creatures? Are you sure you aren’t jinxed? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s had such a bad time with animals and creatures quite like you do.”

“Oh please, I’m not one to back down from any challenge.” Fay dismissed his teasing with a smirk. It lessened when she noticed how his demeanor changed. She remembered Pansy Parkinson. She remembered her quite well, since the last time they met, Fay nearly gave her a black eye and Pansy nearly tore half her hair from her scalp. “I remember Parkinson. She’s quite spirited. It’s also hard to forget someone who nearly tore half your hair from your scalp.” She smiled. “But I nearly gave her a black eye, so we’re both even, I suppose.” She clapped her hands together. “Well, at least you’re interacting with people! I truly thought you were going to waste away without any human contact. It’s good to hear you’ve got people who’s got your back.” She clicked her tongue, eyes drifting back to the piano for a moment as she thought about anyone she’d want to get back in contact with. After about a minute or two of silence, Fay finally shrugged and looked back at him. “Nope.” She admitted. “No one came to mind.”

Draco side-eyed Fay the moment that she said he should take up a boxing class. With other people. She may not know him that well, but he thought it was clear enough that he would not do any such thing. “Practicing with other people is not something that I’d call fun, unless I choose the people and invited them,” Draco replied dryly. “And besides, I do have a instructor. I see him once a month for a private session. You know how that goes.” He wasn’t sure she knew how that went, but that was beside the point. “Guess we can apparate, then.” He would have said well, there’s still time to get splinched but he was trying to get her to actually like him, so he refrained from saying that. He wasn’t much for travelling himself. Sure, he had to travel for the family company every now and then and he enjoyed holidays when he was younger, but that was all. Clearly Fay had a knack for it. “Greece sounds great,” he said. “True to the cliché, I feel like I would just spent every day on a beach if I was there.” Read some books. Attempt to get a tan. Draco could imagine it. “My father owns peacocks,” he clarified. “The rest of the family loathes them. And I do think I could be jinxed, actually. You make a fair point.” Albeit, him being jinxed had nothing to do with his bad luck with creatures and much more with his bad luck during the war. “I do own an owl, though,” he added seriously. “He’s never bitten me, so my luck may be turning.” Unsure if he should have mentioned Pansy and the other Slytherins at all (most people did not take to them and that was an understatement), Draco chuckled briefly when Fay explained her last run-in with Pansy. “Well, that sounds delightful,” he deadpanned. “She can be quite - how did you say that? - Spirited, indeed.” And that was all he should be saying on that score. “I also do have a job, which means I have to talk to people every day I work.” He shuddered theatrically as though that was a problem (usually, it wasn’t). “Really? No one you want to get back into contact with? Not even one of your Gryffindor friends?” He studied Fay briefly. “Well. In that case I guess it’s better to start anew. See who you get along with now instead of before. Right?”

Draco meant well, Astoria reminded herself and she just let his words slide off of her, a smile still firmly planted on her lips, after all how could he possible know that Astoria knew exactly what the meaning of life-changing was. Because while she had not experienced the war in the way Draco had, the war had taken enough of her. And because life was not fair, her eighteenth birthday had given her a life-changing gift, a gift to die for. The family blood curse had been passed onto her, not Daphne as their parents had believed -honestly at times Astoria fantasized of visiting her mother in Azkaban just to tell her how much of a waste of time all those years spent examining Daphne had been- it was almost funny, how Astoria had cried because she was left behind with their house elf while her parents took Daphne from healer to healer, traveling across the world. ‘Seems I was right on wanting to come with you uh mother?’ Astoria dreamed of saying one day, ‘now who’s gonna be left behind?’

❝Life’s too short to pretend sweets don’t make everything better❞ Astoria said with a smile, not even for a moment letting the moment be ruined by thoughts of her dying tomorrow, next week, in three months. Life’s too short, that was the mantra she repeated every morning, not out of fear, or self-pity, or anger, but to remind her herself that she had to try to be better, to remind herself to fall in love with as many things as possible, to enjoy everything unashamedly, to be loud and unapologetic, to let people know how much she loved them. 

❝Really?❞ Astoria asked after he denied being with Pansy, something inside of her flickered, was it disappointment, why would she feel that anyways? ❝I just always assumed the two of you…❞ she didn’t know what to think anymore, it wasn’t like she had been a hopeless romantic, but a story like Draco and Pansy’s -childhood sweethearts- would’ve given her hope for people like them, pureblood children in a post war world, she wanted someone to have a happy ending. It wasn’t as if Astoria had ever allowed herself to dream about such things, half of her life she had been taught to believe her parents would pick whoever was going to marry her, the other half she had spent harboring crushes on boys her parents would never approve of, and now, well now it was just something impossible. Falling in love with someone when she might die any moment? Or worse yet, someone falling in love with her? What kind of person would she be if she let it happen? And so she searched for her happy ending every day. 

It was a good thing that Draco had that particular sense of humor, maybe that was why she enjoyed his company so much. ❝Well well well Mr. Malfoy, seems like you’ve uncovered my machiavellian plan of getting you all alone in a dark place so I can take advantage of you…❞ Astoria said wiggling her eyebrows, ❝although I’m going to have to hit pause on that… you don’t like animals?❞ she asked, if Draco was hoping she wouldn’t notice his tone, well he didn’t know her at all, ❝honestly Draco I feel like that’s something friends would know about each other!❞ while she didn’t exactly love animals, she liked them enough to be able to visit her sister at the menagerie, she liked them enough to enjoy other people’s pet, just not enough to get one herself, but something about Draco’s sarcasm, if anything she had enough muggle money to get them tickets to another movie, ❝well?❞ she said hand on her hips demanding an explanation as if it was the most important thing in the planet. 

The familiar figure brought him some solace, and his ever increasing anxiety began to wane, the bulbous feeling of his throat against the tie around his neck loosening itself. The feeling of nervousness that came with the uncertainty of not seeing any of his friends for any long period of time was unfortunately unavoidable, but he knew Draco. And if there was anyone he trusted, it was Draco Malfoy.

He arranged himself into his seat, facing the blonde, and nodded with his question. Get straight to it, no need for niceties, despite the formality of making small talk something that had been conditioned into his psyche from a young age. “Draco, I wouldn’t usually ask, you know this, if it weren’t something I truly needed,” he started, his brown hues trained on the blue of his friend.

He knew that his current situation was not dire - at least, not threatening in any sort of capacity, but he also knew that the hope he had placed on the question was much larger than he had bargained on. What did he want? He wanted something. Was that something going to be fulfilled by Draco Malfoy? Probably not, he admitted to himself. But he had to try. He had to get out.

There was no point beating around the bush with Draco, Theo knew that the man could see right through him, even at the best of times, and there were times when he desperately wanted to. “I need a job,” he admitted. Even saying it brought a rigidity to his spine, a flush across his face. Asking for things was beneath those in Slytherin, begging for the scraps of a job even worse but Theo knew that if anyone could understand, it was Draco. “I don’t want anything from my father, you know how he is, I’d like to move out, without his help, without becoming indebted to him,” his expression hardened and he averted his gaze. “Do you think there’s anything? I’d rather not have asked you this in writing, of course.”

It was so rare that Theo reached out to him (or to anyone, Draco suspected) and asked for help. It seemed to him that the utter inability to express it when you needed something was a trait that a few of them (Slytherins) shared. It was a sign of weakness, a sign that you couldn’t do it all by yourself and that you needed other people. It was something they couldn’t stand. But what were your friends for, if not stand by you when you needed them? All of them were close to so little people, their friend groups almost the same, that they had to have each other’s backs, and they did. So whatever it was Theo needed, Draco was going to do his best to help. 

Ginny scowled at the table, barely noticing as the tea was placed in front of her. She gave an apologetic murmur of thanks to the waitress as she picked up the tiny tongs, plopping two neat cubes of sugar into the cup. Why was she here? It wasn’t as if she had some great bond or friendship with Malfoy; more like a stinging sense of bitterness and distaste. But the way he had looked through her, so pale and panicked… she knew that look. She wore it in her sleep, more often than she’d ever care to admit.

That was the truth of it, really. That look was one she’d never wish her worst enemy to experience, and so when she saw exactly that happening, she knew she had to help. God knew no one else would, not in this shit hole, not this early… and especially not for this man. She reached for the spoon, metal clinking against ceramic as she watched the granules dissolve into the steaming liquid. It looked as if they had disappeared completely, but if she tasted, she knew the sweetness would still be there. Plenty of things were like that, hiding just out of sight, popping up every time you let yourself forget they had ever been there. Feelings, for example.

“I can go, if you like.” She stared at him, challenging him to say something. To tell her to go, or ask her to stay, or to go back to the boy who made fun of everyone who wore hand-me-down boots that were three sizes too big. His words tumbled out–not the carefully crafted, sharp-tongued insults she’d learned to dodge at the age of eleven, but heavy, soft, clunking words. They weren’t warm, by any means, but they also weren’t cold or crude. They washed over her, falling and landing on her in random succession like the few raindrops that caught on your skin before the skies opened up and poured.

He had cared. Cared that she’d been tied up and had an apple stuck in her mouth and been presented to You-Know-Who on a silver platter. Cared that she’d been possessed by an entity she’d never supported or asked for or wanted. Cared that his own father had seen her as a fit sacrifice for his own twisted, half-thought-out plan.

“Yeah, well, the snake didn’t possess you, did it?”

She could hear the chill in her voice, but she didn’t care. Here was the Draco she knew, comparing his own woes to that of her own, as if it would make her feel better that he’d lived with one. Ginny had been consumed by it. Giant blocks of time were missing, and even after loads of offers for memory spellwork and therapy, she didn’t know if she even wanted it back. Her grades had gone down the toilet, and her own brothers–who were there with her–hadn’t even noticed she was acting different.

The thought of Nagini instantly triggered a memory of Neville slicing through the snake. He was lucky. He got to destroy one. She hadn’t gotten the opportunity, but she would have loved to put a Basilisk fang right through that wretched diary herself. Instead, she’d been left a fucking damsel in distress, sleeping in her castle, waiting for some prince to slay her demons for her.

Sighing, she took a sip of the tea, her eyes locking on her companion’s face. “I promise you’re not the only one who wants to punch him, Malfoy.”

Pansy wasn’t that upset - they were far past the point of hut feelings about missed plans and what not - but giving Draco shit was one of her favorite hobbies. She could almost feel the air shift when she entered the flat. They always seemed to remember the missed plan the moment the other pointed it out. She couldn’t really blame him, because she had done something similar a time or two. 

Spotting his lounge clothes, Pansy narrowed her eyes. She met his gaze, eyes conveying her message perfectly; You’re a lucky and rude arse and I hate you. Also, where the bloody hell are my sweatpants, I know I left them here. She slid her python over her shoulders and onto her chest before she collapsed onto the couch. Merlin forbid she hurt her little angel. Contrary to popular belief, her python was a delightful pet. Teacup, the fluffy cat with claws painted pink, was the rude one. While she was very fond of Pansy, she had been known to bite and scratch those who she doesn’t care for - read: almost everyone alive.

Pansy rolled her eyes, heaving yet another sigh. She tossed her hand over her forehead, letting out a loud groan. “I know, it’s so rude. Stop coming after my title, you arse. You’ve had a few good tantrums but you can’t even attempt to get on my level.” She rolled her eyes, yet again. The signs of an on coming Pansy meltdown - rolled eyes, heavy sighing, hands tossed over her forehead as if nursing a fever, eyes gazing to her side as if in deep thought. Well, that was one flavor of her meltdowns. Others include irate screaming and crocodile tears. However, this particular situation didn’t call for either. Yet, at least. The night is young, after all.

She snorted at the comment about his mother. “Please, I could never compete with Narcissa Malfoy. There isn’t a person alive who could match her level of dramatic perfection. No one should even try.” She sounded as if she was in awe of the woman; which, to be fair, she was. Narcissa was similar enough to her mother but removed enough to not have Pansy project her actual mother’s abuse onto her; this created a bit of a hero worship situation for Draco’s mother. She tried to keep it in check, mostly because allowing it to be public knowledge meant acknowledging the fact there was something about her relationship with her mother that needed to be discussed.

With all that in mind, she was happy when Draco left for a few moments, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Upon his return, she sat up, scooping Cordelia off her lap as she turned to smack at lipsticked kiss onto his forehead. “Aren’t you a catch?” She snorted, grabbing the glass of wine, sipping it as she leaned against him. She snorted, nodding as he mentioned take out. “Yes, dear Merlin. I haven’t had anything but a few almonds between interviews. And probably two pots of coffee,” she lamented. Draco was one of the few people she didn’t feel uncomfortable eating in front of; after everything they’ve been through, what’s a few sweets between friends.

Pansy’s eyes lit up as soon as he mentioned her boss. “Draco, you should have seen it. Apparently one of the members of Wizengamot was pushing for an anti-goblin reform has,” she paused for dramatic effect, sipping her wine once more, “three illegitimate children, two of them half-goblin. Apparently his mistress has been trying to sell the story for ages but she’s been paid so much hush money she hasn’t yet. I start looking for her in two days.” Rita wanted to go to press immediately but Pansy suggested waiting until talking to the mistress. Her boss wasn’t pleased but Pansy could be rather persuasive when she wanted to be. “There were a few other tidbits – Saint Mongo’s investors are thinking about including muggle remedies, which is currently unconfirmed but I think I can get a confirmation pretty soon; there are rumors that the Weird Sisters might be breaking up yet again; Puddlemure might be getting a new coach.” She shrugged about the last few comments, more interesting in tracking down that mistress. 

Draco merely side-eyed Pansy when she said he was the one going after her title of the most dramatic person they knew. That was just highly incorrect, but he wasn’t even going to protest it because that would be making her point that he didn’t agree with. After all, who was the person that swore his father would hear about it whenever something was even mildly inconvenient for him? Or the kid that ran to his mother when he did so much as scrape his knees because it hurt so much. It had never been a matter of being a wimp; rather, the younger version of himself did anything to get attention. He doubted that he grew completely out of that, but that was a rabbit hole he shouldn’t go down in. Whatever the case may be, he surely wasn’t dropping my father will hear about this any longer. Now it was better that his father never heard about the things that Draco was up to. It was better for their relationship if they kept it to just chess.  

   One thing about England that Marcus had yet to get used to: people he had known before could show up in the most random places. It was a little surprising that Draco remembered him, but once he had confirmation, it was enough to prompt another quick flash of a smile. “You were a good Seeker. Did you keep playing?” It was a light enough question for two people who hadn’t seen each other in years. 

   The guess at where he’d moved to made Marcus rumble out a low chuckle. “Romania, but you were close. I moved for work, actually, but I got a better offer here, so here I am.” That it wouldn’t be about the money, necessarily, so much as the challenge, went without saying between two Slytherins. “It’s weird being back in London. Do you live locally?”

   When Draco approached the bar more closely, Marcus was pleased. “Of course I don’t mind. Can I buy you a drink?” Tilting his head, he was nothing if not intrigued by the other’s career choice. “Now there’s something I don’t hear every day. Are you enjoying it? Never actually met an Unspeakable before.” It was with an interested expression that he studied Draco, who he did remember being clever. 

   When the other asked if he’d been involved in Quidditch, Marcus shook his head. “Had offers when I graduated, didn’t take them,” he admitted. “I trained as a dragon-handler right after graduation, so I spend my days flying and chasing after things that breathe fire. Not really what anyone expected. How did you end up at the Department of Mysteries?” The way that he was being looked up and down right after that made the corners of Marcus’ lips quirk up, and he didn’t hesitate to do the same back. “Trying to figure out if you think that’s a good or a bad thing? You did too, looks good on you. Took me a minute or so to recognise you there.”

The thing about kids who were forced by their parents to spend time with other kids was that they were being forced to spend time with other kids. So in most cases children in this circumstances end up never talking to each other ever again. That is of course not the case with pureblood children. There’s an unspeakable bond between them, the sort of bond created when they are the only other people in the world who understand. And that is perhaps the secret behind the loyalty between slytherins. Sure ‘puffs were always praised for their loyalty, but no one sticks by their fellow housemates -friends or not- like the snakes. 

Turns out the term shared experience fell short when trying to explain what they had been through after the war. Shared trauma, yeah that sounded better.

It was through that ordeal that Astoria ended up talking to Draco Malfoy, that they ended up exchanging letters. Had it not being for the war, Astoria was sure that their paths would never have crossed. Their relationship had been nothing more than a greeting in passing while at school, when he wasn’t being a jerk. And now, well now they were friends. Astoria was sure of that since the moment Draco had not turned her away when she invaded his table during lunch her first day at the Ministry.  

Her friendship with Draco involved learning a lot about boundaries and personal space, for example Astoria knew better than to jump and wrap her arms around him to greet him, as she would’ve done with her other friends. Instead she just stood a few centimeters away and waved the tickets she had in her hands, before she could let herself get into a ramble about the movies, and the particular movie they were watching, she felt the need to defend herself.  ❝Have I been wrong yet?❞ she asked hands on her hips, well maybe she was wrong that one time with the sushi burritos, but they both had promised to lock that in the back of their minds and never ever bring it up again. ❝You know I find it hard to believe that this coffee didn’t change your life❞ she added almost as an afterthought.

❝… anyways… you are going to love the movies!❞ she said with a bright smile, ❝everything from the movie theater, I got us tickets to the IMAX screen❞ of course it wouldn’t mean anything to him now, but once they were inside he would see, the first time she went to a movie theater she had been fascinated, ❝to the food we can get there, to the movie itself!❞ Astoria could barely contain her excitement, ❝it’s got talking lions Draco! t a l k i n g lions!❞ she had heard people at work talk about it and could no wait to watch it, she was very intrigued about how they had gotten the lions to talk, maybe someone in the production team was a witch or wizard. ❝You told your girlfriend this was not a date right? Because yes most muggles go to the movies because they are on dates, which I don’t understand because you are not supposed to talk during the movie and everything is dark❞ Astoria said with a shrug, ❝but really the last thing I want is for you to get in trouble with your girlfriend❞ she said with a smile. 

@occlumensism

The letter was signed and sealed before he could rethink his plans. The need to get out, the desire and the fear that had enveloped him for so long yearned to break free, and instead of repressing it, Theo had finally reached out.

It would have been easy to take his father’s money; he knew that, his father knew that, and the Prophet knew it too, but Theo had never been the sort to choose ease. His fingers shook when the owl returned later that evening, with the reply but he opened the note and his relief was apparent, especially in the relax of his brows.

He turned up early to their agreed upon meeting place, but Theo was always early to everything, an incessant habit drilled into him from years of propriety. He found a seat by the window of the restaurant where they had agreed to their meeting and he watched from the window as passersby made their way slowly about their lives. Children ran wildly through the streets of Muggle London, their strange attire catching his attention. It wasn’t often that he ventured into London but he had decided to branch out. Old habits die hard, he tried to relax his face as a particularly grubby child with rumpled clothes and a bit of dirt on his palms ran closely past the window and the scowl threatened to pour from him. 

The waiter returned with water, and Theo ran over his story. There’d be no doubt Draco would ask some questions, after all, it was only natural. How could he tell him the truth? In part, he had a feeling Draco would be able to tell, but the unspoken Slytherin rule seemed to be ‘don’t ask’ lately, and he was hoping that would prove sturdy. Besides, the truth was, well, lame. Bringing a hand up to the necktie and adjusting it slightly, loosening it only slightly from the choke it had around his neck, Theo waited silently, watching.

It wasn’t often that Draco heard from Theo. In retrospect of what others may think about it, it didn’t bother him at all. Friendships weren’t about quantity; they were about quality. He didn’t need to see Theo every other week to know they would always be there for the other when they needed it the most. They had each other’s backs. It had always been that way and it would always be that way. The same with him and Pansy. It was as natural as the sun going up every morning and going down every evening, simply matter of fact. So when he did hear from Theo, Draco knew to pay attention. When the owl arrived with a letter with Theo’s handwriting and signed with the other’s name, Draco took no time at all to reply. When asked to meet the next day, a quick note in the affirmative was returned to his friend, saying that he’d be at the chosen location for lunch the next day. 

“Then it sounds like you definitely need the exercise.” Fay mused. “Boxing? Want someone to come with? I’ve heard it’s fun and I’ve never tried boxing before.” She’s had an interest, but she hadn’t tried boxing yet, mostly due to the fact she was still adjusting her life coming back. “Oh, we could. How good are you at apparating?” She tilted her head. “I got my license, but you know how tricky that can be.”

Fay turned her gaze upwards as she thought about where else she could travel. “A lot, actually.” She smirked. “The world’s bigger than England, you know. Three years aren’t enough to cover the entire world. I haven’t visited America yet. I figured I’d finish this part of the world first before moving to the other side of the world.” She thought back to the times she’s stayed in Australia and South Korea. “I think I’d want to go back to South Korea.” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “You have something against magical creatures?” She paused and thought back to their shared class of Care of Magical Creatures and what had happened to him. “Oh, right. Your run-in with the Hippogriff. Noted. We’ll avoid magical creatures.”

Fay took his words into consideration and nodded. “You know what? You’ve got a point. No use dwelling on it.” She grinned. “Agreed.” She said before she knocked the shot back, letting the alcohol burn its way down. “Augh, I forgot that it burns.” She chuckled. “Have you been keeping in contact with anyone from school? Obviously, I haven’t, but i figured maybe you have.”

Draco chuckled softly when Fay asked if she could come with to boxing, as though he would go to a gym. He was a Malfoy. He didn’t go gyms with other people. “Well, I don’t take classes or anything,” he said. “I have this small beach house in Brighton. One of the rooms downstairs was made into a small boxing gym by the former owner. So you could come by if you want to punch a punching bag.” It was an offer easily given; it wasn’t his house, just a small summer residence. “I’m okay,” he said in regards of apparition. He was good at it because he refused to use the Floo Network. He’d been apparating long before he got his license. “How about you?” She was right; the world was much bigger than just England. Yet Draco had never been extremely inclined to go travelling. It was probably the idea of being away from the people he knew and loved - his parents and Pansy, most importantly - for a longer period of time. It’d be nice though,to be somewhere where no one knew him. “So America is next on your list?” he queried. “Have you been through Europe yet?” He wrinkled his nose when she mentioned the Hippogriff incident. “My family owns peacocks. They may be the worst animals ever. So let’s just not put in any situation with any animal or creature, ever.” He chuckled when Fay mentioned the burn of the Firewhiskey. “I take it you don’t want another one?” he teased gently. The mention of anyone from school sobered him up immediately. “People from school don’t really take to me, strangely,” he said in a deadpan way. “But I have Pansy, the apple of my eye, my better half, et cetera. We’re not dating,” he clarified. People always got that wrong. “And I still see some of the other Slytherins. But not that many of them otherwise. Is there anyone you actually want to get back in touch with?”

His question made her pause and consider. “Getting to the hard hitting questions, huh?” She joked. Fay was an active person and a lot of her hobbies kept her in motion. She wasn’t sure how Draco would react to that or if he had the stamina to keep up if he decided to join her in her endeavors. “Well,” she began, “I’m a pretty active person, just can’t stay still you know? On my days off, I like to go hiking or rock climbing. I’m also looking to get back into camping again. I’ve also been learning self defense like Krav Maga and mixed martial arts. Sometimes I might stay in and read a book or make some potions just so I don’t get rusty, but I like being outside and doing something most of the time.” She smiled. “I’m pretty restless if you can’t tell. What about you? What do you do when you’re free?”

She didn’t expect Draco to offer words of comfort, but it seemed that, like her, he loves his mother dearly. Plus, he had a point. She wasn’t sure how she would’ve turned out if she hadn’t gone traveling, but chances were, if she decided to stay and pushed herself to finish her eighth year, she might not have had the strength to do it. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re right, I did need to do what I had to in order to get by and traveling helped. Now I’m back, hopefully for good.” She shot him a friendly grin. “Though, if I go traveling again, you’re more than welcome to join me.” It was an open invitation, there for him to take if he was adventurous enough.

After what they had been through, she could understand why Draco might not have wanted to work for the Ministry. Instead of dwelling on it, she moved on with the conversation, giving a noncommittal hum. “I think I liked South Korea best. The cities were wonderful, the food was to die for, and the nature and scenery were breathtaking. I could live near the mountains and find time to go hiking or camping every so often. Oh, or Japan. I miss the hot springs.” She smiled. “If I could’ve stayed anywhere, I think I would’ve chosen Australia. If their normal wildlife was already so chaotic, can you imagine how the magical creatures of that wizarding community are? I’d certainly have fun.”   

Fay laughed. “Teenage me wasn’t any better. She was a short tempered and reckless girl.” She made a casual gesture to herself. “I mean, I’ve still got a temper, but I’m not reckless or as hot headed anymore.” She nodded in agreement and added, “And became better people. Well, I think this calls for a drink!” Spinning around, she put her hands on the bar top and flagged down a bartender to order two shots of Firewhisky. As the bartender poured their shots, she added her own observation of their old house rivalry. “Could you imagine how different everything would’ve been if they encouraged us to work with each other instead of against each other?” When the bartender slid her the shots, she passed one to Draco and raised her shot glass. “To new friendships and character growth.”

Draco chuckled at Fay’s joke, much to his own surprise. He was the kind of person that could claim that ‘smiling was a weakness’ and keep a straight face while saying it, but he had rarely ever taken to people as well as he did to Fay right now. It was probably a good thing they didn’t know each other very well at school, or they would never have been able to do this. “That sounds really great,” he said seriously. “I sit still more than you, I think. I brew a lot of potions, I read and I have a serious chess competition going on.” With his father, because there was nothing Malfoys did better than chess (there was such a thing that Draco called social chess and they excelled at that, too). “But I do go for a run every morning and I used to do boxing. I’ve been thinking to take that up again lately.” He looked aside at her. “We could apparate somewhere to go hiking somewhere, if you’d like,” he suggested. He was uncomfortable with emotions (that was an understatement), so the apology after he offered his analysis was the most comfortable thing out of his mouth. He merely wrinkled his nose when she told him not to apologize; he still felt like he had to. “Travelling again? What country didn’t you see yet?” he teased her gently. “I’d love to come. I haven’t been abroad for fun and exploring in years.” He nodded on her words about South Korea and then Australia. “Or would you want to return to any one of those places?” he queried. “I will have to warn you before we start planning: you will not get me anywhere near any magical creature. Period.” So Australia was out. He didn’t enjoy the idea of creatures just being around.  This was probably not the time to tell Fay that Draco didn’t remember the teenage version of the girl. The way that she described it, though, it sounded just like your average annoying Gryffindor so he really wasn’t surprised. “Maybe adolescence tempered some of our worst traits,” he offered. That was the case for him, but it wasn’t adolescence that did it. He liked the idea of a good shot of Firewhiskey, so he grinned appreciatively, only to frown a little at the words that followed. “I spent way too much time thinking about that, Fay,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t change history. It just pisses me off.” In other words: let’s not get started. Taking the shot glass over from her, he raised it as well. “To new beginnings,” he agreed before taking the shot. “And to actually working together for a change.”