180I know it's been forever, but COVID and taking care of elderly family, and life in general along with writer's block and Draco being a little shite kicked my ass. With many apologies, may I present, Chapter III of False Flag.
Draco was upset, but he wasn't upset for the reason he thought he should be upset, which just upset him even more, and made his mother fuss over him. Abraxas Malfoy, patriarch of the Malfoy Family, and Draco's last grandfather had died. Cygnus Black had died shortly before Draco's return from Hogwarts. Draco hadn't felt any particular way about that particular death, as Cygnus had always favored Bellatrix and so Draco had never known Cygnus much. Lucius would bear no disrespect to his wife, even from her father.
Abraxas, however, was a power at Malfoy Manor, one his father even bowed to. It wasn't that Draco saw him often, as he was mostly bedridden in his wing, and Draco's mother had the entire thing sealed from him with spells, to prevent any chance that Draco might contract Dragon Pox from her father-in-law, but he had been a presence , even unseen. He ruled everyone with an iron fist, even Lucius. Draco had always considered himself lucky to be beneath his notice. The man was cruel and Draco held no love for him, but that just made him feel worse. Shouldn't he be sad his grandfather died? Was he just as bad as Abraxas because he was glad the man was dead? Abraxas had been the leader of the Malfoy family since before his father was born, and Draco never measured up. He remembered the first time he fell from his broom and broke his leg. He had cried and Abraxas had seen it from his window. He had demanded the broom burnt and Draco punished until he learned not to show such weakness unbefitting of a Malfoy as tears . Draco knew he wouldn't cry over his grandfather, but the fact that such a thing would make the skeletonized, scaly boggart of his youth happy, made him pause.
Instead, Draco rubbed at his eyes until they were red, as if he could somehow make the tears come, or make it appear as if he felt more about his grandfather than just regret. He wanted someone to talk to, but he didn't know who he should try and talk with. Harry had lost his parents, but they had died before he knew them, and he still mourned them. Theo had lost his mother, but he had seen her death, and loved her above anyone else. Hermione and Daphne had never lost family members that he was aware of. Severus was an adult, and had just started treating him as if he was mature. He didn't want to make his godfather think he was a baby, wanting or worrying about crying over a dead man whom he had barely known, just because he was supposed to be his grandfather, and the head of his family.
Unsure of what to do, he found himself wandering the manor, as if the great house might offer him some sort of answer to all of his quandaries. Life had been so simple before he had grown, he decided. He just…did what was expected of him and was rewarded. Now, he had to actually think things through. Simmer on them, as Uncle Severus liked to say. And so…he simmered as he walked. That was how, in a disused corridor, he overheard his parents, having an actual argument , something so rare he could only really remember one other time - whether he should be sent to Durmstrang or Hogwarts. His mother, as usual, had won.
" Lucius, we have no idea what these things are!" Narcissa was saying. "You absolutely cannot keep them in the house with our only son !"
"They've been here all along, Cissy." Lucius replied, his tone placating. " We didn't know any of these things existed. While I have a few guesses on some of them, they are obscure. I doubt anyone would be able to identify them ."
Narcissa's voice tightened, going even more clipped . "Do you remember how much work I had to do in order to get you acquitted at your trial?" She said, coolly. " This family will always be under suspicion now. The Ministry has increased their raids three times this summer… "
" Arthur Weasley is looking to pay for his youngest's school supplies, no doubt." Lucius interrupted, scoffing.
" Yes, and we will always be a target. I know they belonged to your father, but you have to get rid of them, and until you manage to do so safely, you will store them in the villa."
" Draco is not a toddler to put everything into his mouth, Cissy." Lucius reminded her. " He won't even know they're here."
"Because they won't be here." Narcissa replied, a little tartly. " I don't need to know what they are to feel the darkness in them. Plausible deniability, Lucius. They stay in the villa or I won't get you out of Azkaban again ." His mother's voice got louder as a door snapped shut, ending the statement, and Draco dashed down the hallway, trying to look as if he had overheard nothing, when his mother turned a corner and walked right into him.
He gulped, unsure what his mother would do to him for eavesdropping. He prepared his defense, planning to say he heard nothing - hoping his red eyes would let him pretend he had just emerged from the scrying room, where he had been crying, instead of suggesting that he had been loitering outside the mirror room where his parents had been arguing.
In the end, a suspicious Narcissa had sent him to his godfather, and Severus had assured her he'd take care of him, before promptly dragging him away from Spinner's End and to 47 Harestone Road . Blinking as he left the emerald flames of the Floo, Draco took in the house. While still common compared to the Manor, it was much nicer than the dingy and dark one-up-one-down that was Spinner's End. "Did you buy a new house, Uncle Severus?"
"No." Severus drawled. "Professor Sinistra did in order to rescue Potter from his relatives. We will be staying here."
"Like Millie stays with her mum and dad half the summer, and the other half at Bulstrode Pines?" Draco asked, eyes wide.
If Severus were a lesser man he would have gaped. Instead, he merely raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you knew about Ms. Bulstrode's home situation." Millicent Bulstrode was a half-blood born from his muggle mistress, passed off as a pureblood after Mr. Bulstrode's rich pureblood wife was discovered to be unable to have children. It was an unspoken fact in pureblood circles, but no-one in polite society spoke of it, and everyone publicly treated Millicent like a pureblood. "And no, merely that few others would be unable to put up with several undisciplined snakelets for months on end. There needs to be a conscious adult available at all times ."
"Well, it is quite nice." Draco offered. "Thank you for agreeing to take me, Uncle Severus."
"Yes, well, such a transition as the moving of Head of House is always stressful." Severus answered. "I thought it best for everyone involved." He led the boy into the kitchen and sat him down on one of the dining chairs with the colourful cushions. "How are you feeling about the whole thing, Draco?"
Draco , still unused to talking about such things, pondered his answer, simmered on it as they moved into the perfectly normal-looking house. "Confused." He admitted. "I should feel sad, shouldn't I? He was my grandfather and the Head of House Malfoy, but…I didn't really know him. Mum kept him away from me. So…I don't really feel anything . Just….like a potion phial after the potion is drank, but there are bits at the bottom." He let out a sigh. "He always said Malfoys couldn't feel. Maybe I'm just a true Malfoy now."
"Your mother kept him away from you because he was very sick." Severus answered honestly. "But also because he was an exceedingly cruel man. He used to hex and curse your father as a form of punishment, and he abused even his house-elf worse. You are not supposed to feel any sort of way, Draco. You can only feel how you feel."
"But what if I can't feel?" Draco asked, looking at the floor. "What if he's right and it's a family curse that we don't feel things like grief? Father didn't even cry."
"If you are concerned about being unable to feel emotions, Draco, you can still feel emotions." Severus pointed out, managing not to roll his eyes or drawl ' obviously,' as he was tempted to do. "If you were cursed to no longer feel such things, you wouldn't feel anxiety about such a thing."
"But what if it's part of the curse, and all I can feel is this kind of strange emptiness and knowledge that I'm supposed to feel sad?" Draco insisted. "It wouldn't be much of a curse if I didn't know it was wrong."
Severus sighed, and sat him down. "Draco, do you remember how you felt when I carried Harry out of that underground labyrinth last year? What did you feel when you first saw him unconscious in my arms?"
Draco didn't answer, but he swallowed. "What if I can't feel it now? What if because Grandfather died, and Father is now Head of House, and I'm officially the heir, my emotions don't work any longer?"
Severus put two fingers on the bridge of his nose, and magicked the kettle onto the hob. "Draco I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but an enraged parent who believed that muggleborns have no place in our world drowned Hermione in France last week."
Draco paled, shooting back to his feet. " What ?" He yelled. " Who? " He hissed angrily. "Are they in Azkaban? Whose father are they? Did they get the Kiss?" He was pacing and asking more questions before Severus could answer. "Is she in St. Mungo's? Why didn't anyone tell me…"
"Draco." Severus barked after about a minute, using a spell to stop him in his tracks. "Draco, Hermione is fine. That never happened."
Draco froze from the spell and seemed to deflate when Severus's words got through to him: all of the sudden panic and worry leaving him. "Why would you say that, Uncle Sev?"
Severus shrugged. "Now you know your emotions still work." He pointed out calmly, putting a cup of tea on the table in front of the chair where he had been sitting. "Now drink your tea while we wait for Aurora and your half-blood best mate."
Aurora peeked into the bedroom, where Harry and Draco sat on Harry's bed, whispering. She wasn't trying to listen in, just ensure that both of the two present snakelets were all right. She had never planned to teach this long, had wanted at least two by this time in her life, but she would smile and take care of her snakelets as if they were her own.
She turned back to Severus, who was thumbing through this summer's The Practical Potioneer . "I can't believe you told him someone drowned Hermione!" She hissed, silencing the kitchen.
"How else was I supposed to prove to him that he could still feel things?" Severus asked, aggrieved. "I tried pointing out that his concerns were emotions, but he just got more worried that it was part of some ridiculous Malfoy curse."
"So you told him Hermione was dead ?" Aurora repeated. "Why Hermione and not Daphne?"
Severus didn't even glance up from the page. "Daphne is a pureblood from a well-known family. Her death would have been listed in the Births, Banns, and Bereavements in The Daily Prophet . Hermione's parents wouldn't have known how to place one."
Aurora rolled her eyes heavenward and opened the medicine cabinet for some paracetamol or a headache potion, whichever she got her grubby fingers on first. "You really couldn't find a better way to talk to Draco about his emotions?"
Severus put the quarterly he was reading down on the table. "I suppose I could have encouraged his lack of emotion, since my father broke one of my arms for 'sissified displays.' Or perhaps I should have gone the patented Potter route of hexing him and giving him an embarrassing nickname about his emotional state. Downer Draco doesn't have the same ring to it as Snivellus though, I admit."
Aurora winced. "All right, all right." She agreed. "I'm sorry. I had a bit of a bad night, Alecto had another fight with Serafina, and…" She trailed off. "Well, I really should be going to bed, but I know better than to combine caffeine and Dreamless Sleep."
"Want to lay odds on how long it takes Alecto to kill this one of Serafina's husbands?" Severus asked, with a quiet nod and quick change of subject, to show that he accepted the apology without actually dwelling on it.
"I'd rather lay odds on if he kills her ." Aurora admitted, slumping into her chair at the table. "I know I should forgive her, but…"
"Serafina Dawlish-Galloglass-Valont-Malatesta-Zabini-Okoye is your James Potter." Severus finished, with something like commiseration. "Rich to your poor, pureblood to your muggleborn…"
"Gorgeous to my homely." Aurora interrupted, placing her head on the table. "I know. We needn't go over all the ways she is better."
"She's not better." Severus said flatly. "She's vapid with everyone but Alecto, while she's clever, she refuses to use it, she wouldn't know loyalty if it bit her on the arse, and she expects everyone to fall at her feet."
"Barty did." Aurora pointed out to the knot in the table beneath her.
"Barty was addicted to Euphoria Elixir." Severus reminded her.
"I know, but she wasn't." Aurora muttered. "And she gloated ."
"As I said." Severus replied, summoning another mug over to the table. "She's your James Potter."