Potterfic - Cast Him Off One Day (3/3) - Draco/Neville

[shutupeccles]

Minerva had forgotten how horrible the dark circles under Neville and Draco’s eyes had been until they returned. It seemed she’d made a dreadful mistake by separating them. If she hadn’t tripped over Draco during her late night rounds she could have overlooked his presence in Gryffindor tower. In fact, she would not have seen the disillusioned boy at all. What upset Minerva most, however, was that Severus did indeed have Draco’s best interest at heart. She did not know what to make of the man. Was he a cold-blooded killer, or compassionate friend? What convinced Albus that Severus could be trusted, and what made Severus turn against a man who offered nothing but infinite second chances?

It was that last question that prompted Minerva to evict Draco, more than rules against nocturnal fraternisation. Quite frankly she’d been terrified that Draco and Neville could be repeating that pattern, rather than the desperately heated Remus-Regulus affair. They hadn’t broken up and could still be found in the library or around the grounds together, and Minerva knew young people in lust could be inventive when it came to how and where, but something was wrong that had nothing to do with sex.

Dread filled her stomach more effectively than the start of term feast when staff received the list of students staying at Hogwarts for Easter. The Malfoy boy’s name wasn’t on it. He couldn’t go home to that house, not if the rumours were true. Not even if Severus was there. Draco’s classroom behaviour had been perfectly bland of late so none of the true professors could issue detention as an excuse to keep him at Hogwarts.

He looked like a ghost after the breakfast mail told him he’d be going home. Her heart broke for him. It was easy to forget that the nasty little imp was essentially a boy who hoped to be the best at everything when he arrived at Hogwarts. It took until dinner to make up her mind and discuss the matter with Horace. He agreed wholeheartedly, as she knew he would. Horace may be a braggart but he was also a compassionate soul, and far too good for Slytherin House. He brought the boy out of the dungeon after lights out as arranged.

‘Mr Malfoy, come with me please,’ Minerva said. ‘Professor Slughorn will send your belongings shortly.’

Draco looked frantically from one professor to the other. ‘Has something happened at home? To Professor Snape? Why isn’t he…?’

‘Calm down, Draco. Nothing terrible has happened and you are not being punished,’ Minerva assured him.

‘Now, although you may be sleeping in Gryffindor tower you remain a Slytherin. Wear the wrong House tie to breakfast again and I shall put you in detention.’ Horace pointed a fat finger in Draco’s narrow face. ‘Off you go.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Draco asked with suitable suspicion as he followed Minerva upstairs.

‘Because,’ Minerva replied. ‘Would you rather we didn’t?’

‘Is Neville alright?’ Draco asked, making Minerva absurdly proud.

“He will be. Are you?’ Minerva asked sincerely.

‘I will be.’

Minerva directed the Fat Lady’s attention away from the new portrait of a young man in a state of casual undress. ‘Resurrection,’ she said and the portal opened.

‘Longbottom doesn’t let me know the passwords. I can only get out on my own.’

‘I will be changing it once you are upstairs.’ Minerva smiled shrewdly although she was grateful for the information which put one of her fears to rest.

Draco turned after stepping through the portrait. ‘Thank you, Professor.’

Her smile softened. ‘Do not make me regret this.’

He tried to return her smile and Minerva felt a surge of hope.

*~~~*

Neville was startled by weight on what had briefly been Draco’s side of his bed, followed by the whisper of his name.

‘Lumos!’ Neville’s wand began to glow before he put a hand to it. Draco perched beside him, paler than before. Neville sat up straight with fear edging toward his bones. ‘How did you get in here?’

‘McGonagall let me in.’

‘Why?’

‘I have to go home for Easter,’ Draco said with something deeper than regret.

Neville interpreted ‘go home’ as ‘confront death’ and leaned over to hug him. After a moment of silently breathing against each other they began kissing intently. Neville helped Draco crawl more comfortably beside him, or more accurately on top of him, as they removed outer layers of clothing and applied the usual protective enchantments around the bed. Neville was able to do them nonverbally now, thanks to Draco. He owed so much to this former enemy and framed Draco’s face with his fingers to kiss him again. He sought consent with his eyes then removed Draco’s underwear with both hands when that consent was wordlessly given. They let eyes, bodies, and the pressure of their lips communicate what words could not. This holiday could mean the end. Not just the beginning of the end but the actual, definite end. He Who Must Not Be Named thrived on grand gestures and theatrics. Draco and Neville thrived on each other. They snuck across this final intimate boundary without fanfare or alarm.

It must have hurt Draco more than they expected, or perhaps Neville didn’t enter him correctly this first time. Still, his grunt and grimace were swiftly replaced by softly guttural, open mouthed breaths. His body relaxed rather than clenched as Neville moved carefully. His facial features became more beautiful than when he flew unfettered and unreserved through the evening air. Neville was tempted to whisper ‘I love you’ but they wouldn’t be doing this if they didn’t love each other, not silently like this. It would be brash and immature, battling for domination and taking what they could get, an act of mutual thievery. This was sharing, and so remained quiet, careful and slow to the end - although they finished with urgent sighs and limbs clamped desperately around each other. They stayed that way long after their joints began going numb in a vain attempt to prevent impending hell intruding upon their heavenly moment.

Neville’s despondency manifested itself in a whisper. ‘Don’t let him kill you.’

Draco didn’t say anything but Neville felt their silent tears mingle.

*~~~*

Each night’s intimacy became more urgent to combat the desolation draping over their days “the same way the Dark Lord’s cloak catches and flows. Just the whisper of that fabric against his pallid form, furniture, or through the air... he’s practically a Dementor.”

Draco’s descriptions painted images to rival the most detailed portrait in Hogwarts. He would pick at the cuff of his right sleeve, the unmarked arm, as he talked in a voice as fragile and hollow as the porcelain eggs on Gran’s dresser. In these private moments Neville knew Seamus was wrong about him, everybody was. Draco Malfoy was entirely human. He fought for the same reason as Neville-he loved his family and friends, even though the majority had turned their backs on him.

‘You can fuck me tonight instead, if you want,’ Neville whispered hoarsely the night before those going home for Easter were due to leave. Trembling fingers caressed his face.

‘Are you offering because you’re afraid, or because you trust me?’ Draco asked. His thumb lingered over Neville’s lips.

‘Both.’

‘Promise me something. Do everything to defend yourself-except compromise your integrity.’

Neville promised. Draco straddled his hips, in complete control as he rode Neville for possibly the last time. Neville drew all ten fingers down Draco’s throat, tweaked a nipple and a rib, grasped his hips and fucked him like the world was ending. They caused a cacophony of vocal and bodily sound, shaking the bed like an earthquake was happening underneath it.

‘Just because I know you’re fucking doesn’t mean I want to hear it!’ Seamus hollered.

Draco added the forgotten secrecy charms while Neville apologised, utterly embarrassed. Then he wiggled about slowly on Neville’s lap. ‘Look at you, too sweet to be playing with a bad boy.’

Neville arched and gasped beneath Draco, reaching back to clutch the bedhead behind him. ‘There’s a big difference between bad and naughty, Malfoy.’

‘Fuck.’

They did.

*~~~*

Life hadn’t taken Draco where he expected to be when he began school. Instead of sneaking a quickie on the Hogwarts Express with a pureblood Slytherin witch he was kissing Neville Longbottom by the Hogwarts gate. People were watching, commenting, but Draco didn’t think of consequences. He wanted to take the taste and warmth of Neville with him. It wouldn’t block the nightmares while they were apart but it should help produce a patronus if the Dark Lord brought Dementors to the Manor.

‘Don’t let him kill you,’ Neville pleaded in a murmur. ‘Lie, fight, manipulate, be the ultimate Malfoy prick but stay alive. And don’t, don’t kill anyone either. You’re better than that.’

‘No, I’m not.’ Draco’s heart shrivelled like parchment left too close to a fire.

‘Yes you are.’

‘No, Longbottom. I already have.’ His voice cracked on the admission.

‘I know. I’m telling you not to do it again. You told me there’s always a choice, Draco. Choose me over him.’

Draco whispered the truth in Neville’s ear. ‘I already have.’

They kissed again as the gates opened and Flitwick ushered those leaving school grounds into the thestral-drawn carriages.

Lions vs Serpents

Draco would not confirm Potter’s identity unless there were no other options. They needed to have a private chat about possible forms and locations of Tom Riddle’s horcruxes. The self-proclaimed Dark Lord was away and none of his Death Eaters knew where. Draco assumed the worst: Voldemort suspected Potter had discovered a horcrux so was off creating another. If Draco had to show Potter the fading bruises along one hip caused by Neville’s uneven teeth, or describe his boyfriend’s sleep patterns to gain Potter’s trust, then by Merlin's mouldering bones he would. For now all he could do was procrastinate, shrug and turn his back. Potter clearly had no idea why Draco wasn’t aiming Unforgivable Curses at his distorted head. Draco found his confusion amusing but couldn’t enjoy it with all the background noise.

Draco joined Potter in staring at Bellatrix when she shrieked that they would all perish if the Dark Lord was summoned and began obsessing about a sword that had supposedly come from her vault. He watched Potter’s reaction. Could it be a horcrux? Weasley and the Chosen Saint were hauled to the cellar so Bellatrix could entertain herself torturing the Mudblood. Draco had been forbidden to go down there for months but when Father sent him to fetch the goblin he went without question. Watching his aunt use the Cruciatus on Granger brought Neville to mind. He would have been little more than a year old when she tortured his parents using this same spell. Had he been made to watch? Bellatrix called Draco weak for not killing the Snatchers or Dumbledore yet Neville truly believed the inability to commit murder was a sign of strength, so Draco said he would not kill. He couldn’t talk to Potter in front of the goblin and whoever else was stashed down there. Nobody knew of his promise to Longbottom so he could threaten to kill... Was that Lovegood and Thomas behind Weasley? Draco’s day kept getting worse. Father stopped him returning to the cellar to investigate a suspicious noise. Any opportunity for forming a temporary alliance with Potter was lost. The afternoon exploded into chaos before that cruddy house-elf Dobby appeared and took Potter’s lot away, along with Draco’s wand. Bellatrix decided everything was Draco’s fault, especially the presence of Gryffindor’s sword.

‘You’re fucking the Longbottom brat! You gave it to him, didn’t you? That lying thieving goblin wouldn’t have bothered taking a fake!’

‘And how am I supposed to have accessed your vault, you demented banshee?’

Bellatrix was furious and Draco immature enough to perform spontaneous magic without a stick, although their attacks lacked the same impetus. Narcissa ran around them to pick up her wand and put a stop to the duel. Lucius angrily asked which family member his wife intended to support-her insane sister or their blood-traitor buggering son. All four tried to flee the room when the Dark Lord arrived, expecting to see Potter because he had been summoned. He was as irate as the rest of them yet calmly scolded the family for squabbling like children. He was delighted to discover neither Malfoy male currently possessed a wand and immediately attacked Draco for letting Potter escape.

‘After flaunting your flirtation with his rebellious friend in front of my most faithful Death Eaters, did you truly believe I would not anticipate such betrayal? Foolish boy!’

Narcissa intervened, deflecting a curse and standing between the Dark Lord and her son. Her back was to Draco. At worst, his shoulder would bear a deep and jagged scar. Had the curse connected properly he would have lost the limb.

‘So you are not entirely defenceless. Mummy is still willing to come to your aid,’ Voldemort sneered.

Draco was more afraid of his mother at this point because she grasped her wand loosely in order to aim in almost any direction without moving her entire arm.

‘Explain yourself Draco. Today, Longbottom, the sword, all of it-begin with Potter.’ Mother did not divert her gaze from the Dark Lord while issuing her command.

Draco drew strength from her faith in him, although lying to her caused him severe pain. He glared into the red eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle, bastard half-blood son, and spoke liar to liar. ‘Potter and his friends are always mucking about with polyjuice, invisibility cloaks and other forms of disguise. I couldn’t be certain that ugly lump was him until the stinging jinx wore off. My Lord would hardly wish to be summoned to discover those snatchers brought us a half-blood Irishman, a pureblood witch and my boyfriend disguised as undesirables one, two and three.’ He sneered with exaggerated contempt during the word boyfriend then turned true disdain on his aunt. ‘Learn to control yourself and think before acting. The dimwit I’ve been sleeping with has proven a greater strategist than you.’

‘How dare you address me so? Insolent brat!’

‘Silence Bella, I will discipline my son. Tell us about the Longbottom boy. Why have you not mentioned this relationship to us before?’ Narcissa asked as an affronted mother, not a loyal servant. Neither the Dark Lord nor Bellatrix noticed so Draco directed his lies at them. It was less obscene than betraying his mother’s trust.

‘Longbottom had to believe it so he would think he was saving me by betraying Potter. He’s been horny for me and yearning to play hero since Fifth Year. All I had to do was shower him with the attention Potter denied him, make him feel special, and he practically made me a DA member. Potter doesn’t think enough of him to classify him a friend, but Longbottom always answers his hero’s call. Now the Chosen Twat’s on the run again I have to keep sleeping with Longbottom so I’m first to know when Potter comes looking for him. Thanks Bella,’ Draco sneered. ‘Nott and Zabini think this was their idea but I’d already begun the arduous task of seducing the idiot long before that. Last year another plan took priority.’ He nodded to the Dark Lord with false humility and fervently hoped they believed his performance. Mother did not lower her guard.

‘What of this sword your mother mentioned?’ Voldemort asked so smoothly, his voice flowed like his robes. Draco was not safe yet.

‘The sword of Gryffindor, my Lord, it was brought in with the undesirables. Aunt Bella accused them, and then me, of stealing it from her vault.’

Bellatrix was immediately wrapped in coils of flame and the Dark Lord strode toward her. Nagini slithered along at his heels. Voldemort was abnormally fond of the snake. Draco wondered if the basilisk beneath the school held a place in the Dark Lord’s shrivelled, inhuman heart. He didn’t care what happened to Bellatrix. His aunt had been willing to offer him as a scapegoat to maintain her favour.

Narcissa took advantage of her sister’s punishment. ‘Return to school immediately. Tell your false lover what transpired today. Omit nothing that preceded this conversation. I will inform Severus of your imminent arrival. Take this.’

Draco refused her offered wand. ‘I’m not so pathetic as to leave you defenceless.’

Lucius urged him to accept. ‘Gregorovitch and Ollivander can no longer manufacture wands. Despite your faults you have always been an obedient son. You should have trusted us with your scheme so we could behave accordingly.’

‘It will work for you Draco,’ his mother insisted, ‘because it is given willingly. You are always in my heart so it will recognise you. Please.’

Draco hugged his mother and accepted her sacrifice. ‘Call me home the moment you need it back.’

‘Of course darling,’ she lied. ‘Forgive your aunt. Azkaban stole her love for me.’

Draco kissed his mother’s cheek and apparated to Hogsmeade, walking to Hogwarts under a disillusionment charm so he had time alone to think.

*~~~*

Difficulty sleeping quickly became the least of Neville’s worries. He’d seen Draco’s protective gestures as cute but hollow. The way the Carrows and Slytherins came after him in Draco’s absence proved they were more intimidated by his boyfriend than he used to be. Pride made in their partnership Neville more defiant. He hadn’t realised he’d become so influential until Michael Corner was tortured for releasing students from detention. Neville was a pureblood, not a pseudo almost pureblood like the Carrows and Pansy Parkinson, but a 100% trace it back to Merlin's era along both ancestral lines Pure Blood. Death Eaters didn’t dare fuck with him the way they did students of lower blood status-until Voldemort no longer wanted him alive and on their side.

Did that mean Draco was dead? Or had Seamus been right and Draco turned Neville over to his vile master?

Neville sought refuge in the Room of Requirement from the latest Carrow attack because he found it impossible to remain alert while figuring things out and his distraction put others at risk. The DA was no kids’ club and this was no game, so he refused to cower and neglect his duties. Unfortunately, Seamus was targeted next in an attempt to lure Neville out of hiding. Neville used his improved skill at protean and disillusion charms to bring Seamus to the hideout.

‘This is brilliant,’ Seamus said as the room added another hammock. ‘And you’ve got food!’

‘Don’t scoff the lot,’ Neville warned as Seamus leapt at his stores. ‘That stuff’s difficult to come by.’ He explained how the room opened a passage to the Hog’s Head just because his tummy rumbled.

‘What, in Hogsmeade?’

Neville nodded.

‘Why not just ask that nutter house-elf that’s in love with Harry? He still works here. Although,’ Seamus said with his mouth still full, ‘Dobby can’t be completely crazy if he reckons your boyfriend’s a scheming git.’

‘Do you think he set me up?’ Neville dreaded the answer.

‘I don’t know. I was starting to believe he was capable of liking you…’

‘Thanks Seamus.’

‘Nothing against you, Neville, I meant liking anyone other than himself. He looked sick after McGonagall took him away, gettin’ sicker every day like you were until she brought him back. Now you look ill again. Maybe the two of you have been cursed or somethin’. I mean, you didn’t even like each other before and then suddenly, Bam, heart eyes everywhere. We’ve been worried sick about you all year but anytime we say somethin’ y’ just jump to his defence and make us worry even more.’

‘You might prefer your curse theory to the truth, Seamus because I like him. Love him, actually. Until recently I was certain he loved me too.’

‘I’d rather believe the Carrows are after you because that’s true, than that he set them on you because it isn’t. Stop pulling that face, I’m tired and you know what I mean. Let’s get to hammock.’ Seamus bounded into the newly added hammock with a boyish grin. They both laughed when it swayed grandly and flipped him off the other side. ‘We should bring all the DA in here, really piss those Death Eaters off,’ Seamus suggested. ‘It’ll be like camp, without having to poo in the woods.’

Sharing a room with Seamus again allowed Neville to unwind a little. The nightmares didn’t subside, however.

‘Your cuddle ferret better hurry back and be one of us good guys because I’m not getting into hammock with you,’ Seamus grumbled sleepily.

Neville was too tired to throw a pillow at him, so stuck out a foot and tipped his hammock instead.

‘Ow,’ Seamus said into the floor and immediately began to doze off. Neville chortled softly before sleep claimed him too.

*~~~*

Snape kept Draco in the headmaster’s office until evening meal. They barely spoke. There was no need. Dread clung to Draco like the Dark Lord’s miasma of robes. He tapped his mother’s wand against a nervously bouncing knee.

‘Narcissa is proud of you Draco.’

Draco shook his head and steadfastly avoided glancing at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore.

‘Yes she is.’ Snape’s voice was deliberately smooth and soothing but it didn’t work.

‘She shouldn’t be.’ Draco ground his teeth to avoid crying like a child. ‘By accepting her wand I left her for dead.’

‘You seek to end your mother’s oppression and restore her reputation, hence you require a wand. Narcissa’s mistakes have not weakened your love for her, or vice versa. Of course she should be proud.’

‘Father…’

Snape made a dismissive gesture. ‘Fathers often have different priorities. It is the wand that rocks the cradle which rules the world, Draco.’

They fell silent once more before Draco stared impersonally into Snape’s eyes. ‘I know what he is.’ He let his disgust ripen and burst through the words.

Snape did not flinch or question. ‘Then Merlin help you.’ He lifted his wand to his temple and something resembling the silvery ghost of a flobberworm latched onto the tip, stretching then wrapping around the wand until he put the substance in a phial. ‘For your protection,’ he explained as he did it again. ‘You are dismissed.’

Draco knew when a performance was called for. ‘Thank you, Sir.’ It wasn’t until he reached the stone gargoyle that he realised Snape spent the majority of his time in that office with the living portrait of a man he’d killed hanging near his shoulder. How did that work? What did they talk about? Was it one repetitive guilt trip, or did Dumbledore continue to forgive, even after death?

He rounded a corner and collided with an invisible person who’d been stealing his aftershave. The collision didn’t hurt enough for it to be Crabbe or Goyle. Mother would put a dab of her cologne on Father’s collar whenever she visited him in Azkaban to revitalise memories of their love. Although their relationship was strained at present, Father attributed his remaining sanity to that gesture. ‘Neville?’ Draco asked softly yet with tremendous hope and lips immediately fastened on to his. He broke the kiss with a laugh. This had to look ridiculous.

‘Fat Lady, after pudding, but only if you missed me,’ Neville said into Draco’s ear.

‘Not even the great Seer Cassandra knows how much.’

Neville chuckled with relief and smacked Draco on the bum before continuing on his way. Draco was suddenly hungry and couldn’t reach the Great Hall fast enough.

*~~~*

It was the first time Neville had been back to the Gryffindor dorms since he began hiding out. They’d never had the room to themselves before. It felt like it was theirs although Neville could not entertain the idea of being together on another Gryffindor’s empty bed. He heard all about who’d been living in Draco’s dungeon, the Potter spotting and escape as they undressed each other on top of his bed. ‘I knew that wasn’t your wand.’

Draco’s hands fell away from Neville’s shoulders.

‘This is me you’re with Draco. Losing your wand in a fight isn’t going to change my opinion of you.’

‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ Draco began to sit up and turn away. ‘Not while you’re being hunted and my mother…’ More than his voice broke on the unfinished sentence.

‘Tell me.’ Neville crawled closer on his knees to provide a comforting hug. Eventually Draco continued his tale. Then he began to cry. Neville cried with him and felt the need to kiss his own tears from his boyfriend’s back so Draco didn’t become burdened by his grief as well. It must have worked, because Draco’s sobs subsided before evolving into soft, intimate sounds. His hand reached back to rest against Neville’s cheek but he lowered it again with a wince of pain. The scar the Dark Lord had given him may never heal properly. Neville considered delaying this form of reunion for another day or two but Draco twisted carefully within his embrace, protecting the wounded shoulder as his mouth gently sought Neville’s. They proceeded silently, like the first time, and fell asleep clasped tightly together.

Similar nightmares woke them at the same time. They chased the lingering fear away by going at each other with noisy vigour, soaking the sheets with sweat and spunk.

Draco suggested trying occlumency. ‘As romantic as it sounds to be subconsciously sharing each other’s fears, it actually makes us more vulnerable to outside attack.’

‘I have nothing to hide from you. We can begin tomorrow.’

*~~~*

‘Forget it, this isn’t going to work.’ Draco hexed the leg off a chair in frustration. Emotions were too close to the surface before they began. The inability to control and suppress his own thoughts let alone teach Neville to curb his was infuriating. He thought he’d been good at it, never imagining his mind would become so polluted by anger, fear and despair that no outpouring of tears or sex marathon could clear it away.

Neville silently put his shoes on and picked up his wand. He’d obviously caught Draco’s mood.

‘I didn’t mean you weren’t capable of learning. There’s too many distractions.’ Draco tapped his head with two fingers to show he was the problem.

‘Yeah. Sure.’ Neville headed for the dorm door. ‘Same rules as before, you can’t stay here when I’m not.’

Draco considered taking this to break-up proportions and letting Neville be the one to end it as he summoned his jacket from Finnigan’s bed. The gold and maroon bedspread came with it. Neville chuckled and tried the bed-making spell they’d learned in Charms last term. The bed cover jiggled and flopped beside the bed. Draco’s attempt wasn’t much better. He kissed Neville’s grin.

‘You’re the main distraction,’ Draco said before kissing him again. ‘The school Death Eaters are already out to get you. The Dark Lord is less impressed with me than at the end of last year.’

‘It would be safer to break up, is that what you’re saying?’

When it came to it, Draco couldn’t. ‘I’m saying do a better job of keeping us secret.’

Neville nodded. ‘I can live with that. I’ve got to contact Seamus, you need to be a Slytherin, how about we meet at the top of the stairs an hour after lights out tonight and talk things through?’

Draco could not refuse an offer like that.

*~~~*

Conversation became a relationship relic. They talked while they undressed at night, sometimes, and while they dressed again, if they had time. Otherwise their discussions consisted of Oo-ooh yeah, Come on Come on, Ride me and Fuck, fuck, fuck it, fuck!

They never said “I love you” or “when we are free” because their occlumency skills were imperfect and therefore impractical. They just fucked. Surely anyone lifting those images from their minds would interpret it as mutual political manipulation, meaningless.

Nothing stopped the cumulative nightmares. They occurred during the day now, while Neville prepared his rebels and Draco played gobstones or whatever he did with the Slytherins who stayed behind for Easter. Despite being on opposite sides of the battleline their only refuge was each other and the intimacies they shared. The war had no place in bed with them.

Umbridge had been right about one thing in Fifth Year-there was no need to talk.

*~~~*

Seamus jumped out of his hammock to angrily accuse Neville of not doing his nightly patrols ‘…since your boyfriend’s back!’

‘I missed that one night when he first returned, which you didn’t complain about at the time. Neither did Lavender so I’m guessing you two were similarly occupied.’

‘Yeah? Well Lavender’s on our side.’

‘Considering Draco gave us first-hand knowledge of…’

‘There y’ go again, supportin’ him when…’

Neville clawed the fingertips of one hand into his friend’s shoulder while describing Draco’s wound and how he got it. Then he let go. ‘He’s You-Know-Who’s victim as much as we are, Seamus. His family is ready to disown him and his master ready to kill him for sleeping with me. He could have handed Harry over and chucked me in it to save his perfectly proportioned arse, stayed home using the lockdown to avoid fighting but he came back here, to me. Since that one night I’ve managed to perform all my duties, meet with him, and come back to keep this room ours while you and the others are on the move. If my loyalties were split I’d be sleeping with him in here.’

‘It’s a bit awkward in a hammock. I wouldn’t recommend it,’ Seamus quipped by way of apology. ‘The Patils said today’s Potterwatch password is Sorting Hat. Try and stay awake long enough to take notes. Oh, and ask Aberforth for more food. Rumour has it this room’s goin’ to get pretty full after the holidays.’

‘One day to go. How many are we expecting back?’ Neville asked while setting Seamus’ wireless beside his hammock. Not that he’d be likely to get any sleep.

‘About half as many who left, arriving by train anyway. A few of the Seventh Years hope to apparate directly to the Hog’s Head. You might want to mention that to Aberforth when you get the food.’

Neville nodded. They glanced at the Whereabout Wall which listed names of family members and friends in three columns labelled missing, dead, and in hiding. Luna and Dean’s names disappeared from missing and three generations of Weasleys magically appeared under in hiding around the same time Draco returned to Hogwarts.

Seamus stood with his head to one side as though he was examining Neville. ‘You haven’t told him about the Whereabout Wall, have you?’

‘No. And he couldn’t know beforehand because it didn’t exist until I’d been here half a day. He doesn’t even know about the room.’

Seamus thought a few things over. ‘Why didn’t he hand Harry over? He hates him more than we hate You-Know-Who.’

Neville admitted he didn’t know.

‘Do y’ think maybe he likes you more than he hates Harry? Loves you like?’

‘We’re just using each other, remember?’

Seamus shook his head. ‘That might have been true before but you’re different now. He has to have noticed.’

‘You’d better get going before Ernie and Lavender think the Carrows have caught you.’ And you ask how I feel about Draco.

*~~~*

Caught in a world he did not want. Flimsy as a lace hanky from one of those soppy books Parkinson and Roper were constantly sighing over.

Is this what Azkaban feels like? The moment something bright and happy enters your mind space, a world of oppression and grief collapses in on you, leaving only grisly tissue to be devoured by time or some lesser creature?

Longbottom’s solid presence could no longer stop Draco being scoured by tidal sands. The nightmares never ceased, overlapping and becoming real, destroying everything. This was the Dark Lord’s world-desolation.

It had to end.

Draco wanted to do it but knew that path belonged to Potter. The rest of the magical community wouldn’t have it any other way. Add that to the list of infuriating circumstances.

Amycus ordered them to practice Unforgiveable curses on students in detention and Draco pictured the Dark Lord in his mind as he raised Mother’s wand. He had an overwhelming need to inflict the kind of pain he was experiencing on others but the results did not soothe him. He needed his wand. Mother’s understood him from her perspective and reacted differently, powerful though it was. It would not perform the killing curse, which was good. Draco could blame the wand.

Nott seemed to know. He began sitting closer to Draco in the common room while remaining on his own. It passed as friendship by Nott’s standards.

‘We’re losing, aren’t we,’ Nott said once they were alone in the dorm.

‘Everyone’s losing.’

Nott nodded to indicate that’s what he meant. ‘If only more of us could see that. Zabini’s game is rigged by the way,’ he added as Crabbe and Goyle returned. ‘There are a few random plays but most of it is set up beforehand.’

‘I’ll be in Greengrass’s knickers next time,’ Goyle gloated.

‘If you pay Blaise enough,’ Crabbe countered.

‘If Blaise wants me to fuck him he only needs to ask,’ Draco said while grabbing what he needed for a shower.

‘What about your blood-traitor boyfriend?’ Goyle asked.

‘That’s a disappointing and fat dead end. If Potter hasn’t contacted the dumpling by now, he isn’t going to. Poor Neville.’ The sympathetic inflection was genuine but Crabbe and Goyle mistook it for mockery.

‘I’d love to see his face when he finds out,’ Crabbe chuckled.

‘Not me. It looks too much like yours,’ Draco retorted snidely. Nott laughed, a sure sign that the end was coming.

*~~~*

‘One H word knows about the other,’ Draco told Nott. The clue was cryptic enough to bore their roommates before the conversation began.

‘What tipped him off?’ Nott asked.

‘A book Father loaned him.’

‘Things would be very different if we’d figured it out then.’

‘I doubt it. We don’t have three generations laying tracks.’

‘Our fathers are being watched b’cos Draco let Potter escape and you’re talking to him about trains?’ Goyle asked.

‘We like trains,’ Nott replied blandly. Draco suppressed a smile while nodding in agreement. They ignored Crabbe and Goyle’s muttering after Slughorn called for lights out.

Draco practiced occlumency while counting the minutes until he could sneak up to Gryffindor tower. He was interrupted when Nott sat on the far corner of his bed and applied complicated privacy charms. ‘Are you going to fight when he comes?’ Nott asked in a whisper despite the hefty security.

Draco nodded. ‘He’ll bring the others. I have to join them to return Mother’s wand.’

‘He’s counting on that and plans to kill you before she gets a hand on it. Then he’ll kill her in front of your father and torture him until he begs for death.’

Like Crouch did to Sophie Roper’s father and his parents.

‘Was that a warning or a threat?’

‘To-may-toe, to-mar-toe.’

‘So much for allies.’

‘If you live and he dies, yes, we are. If he lives and you die, then we never were.’

‘Sensible.’

Nott briefly clasped Draco’s ankle through the bedclothes. ‘Try not to die. I’m beginning to like you.’ He quickly removed his hand. ‘But not like that.’

‘Guess I won’t be breaking up with my boyfriend tonight after all.’ Draco feigned a disappointed sigh.

‘Please Malfoy, one nightmare at a time.’

*~~~*

Potterwatch brought news of a break in at Gringotts. According to Fred Weasley’s energetic narration ‘the Chosen One elected to flee the scene with typical flair, upon a dragon imprisoned to guard the vault of villainess extraordinaire Bellatrix the Strange and liberated, no doubt, by my impending sister-in-law. It’s enough to make this reporter’s war-hardened heart develop a crush on the lot of them.’

Cheers filled the imperturbable hideout. Neville’s spirits were still soaring hours later when he left for his regular rendezvous with Draco. They sank deeper than a mermaid's cellar as he waited in vain. He couldn’t neglect patrol after an event like that and was surprised to find Draco sitting cross-legged on the astronomy tower stairs and staring out the large window Neville considered theirs.

Nott stood with his back against the single pane, hands in trouser pockets as he looked down on Draco’s misery. ‘Our parents made the cull.’

‘Barely. Amycus will be out for my blood.’

‘Hand them Longbottom. Surely they can use him to get to Potter now. Unless you shared our theories with him and he can…?’

‘Potter doesn’t give a niffler’s nipple about Neville.’

‘Doesn’t appreciate him as an ally, in the manner you do, or…?’

Draco interrupted him again. ‘To-may-toe, to-mar-toe Theodore.’

‘This is proof that we’re right.’

Draco nodded. ‘As reassuring as that isn’t.’

‘I tried talking to Slughorn while you were gone but you know how much time he has for Death Eater progeny. As McGonagall’s rehabilitation project, would you mind broaching the dread subject with her? We can’t establish a plan without knowing what we’re up against. I’m heading for bed and pretending this conversation, like so many others, never happened. I suggest you do the same.’

Neville waited for Nott to leave then waited some more. Draco rubbed his eyes with the thumb and middle finger of his right hand before preparing to stand. Neville removed his disillusionment charm before stepping forward. ‘Should have known this is where you’d be.’

‘You’re late.’

‘I waited for you, almost to the point of giving up,’ Neville admitted.

‘Sure you weren’t too busy celebrating?’

‘Until I saw you here and remembered there are more than two sides to what’s going on.’

Draco lifted his left sleeve. ‘It’s been like that since he found out. Potter’s got hold of something dangerous. Keep away from it,’ Draco shook his arm so the sleeve fell, ‘and from him.’

‘From Harry? Are you jealous?’ Neville quipped to ward off impending disaster for a little longer.

‘Always have been.’

Neville leaned close. ‘Me too,’ he whispered.

Draco scowled. ‘His opinion of you hasn’t changed, Neville. Trying to make him see you the way you see him will get you killed.’

And how do you see me, Draco? Neville wanted to ask but there were more important things to say. ‘That isn’t why I’m doing this. My family, friends, me, and you-those are the reasons I crept about putting slogans on walls and told the Carrows where to get off. Why I don’t stay in my hidey-hole, or yours.’ Neville couldn’t resist the suggestive whisper. Draco clearly appreciated it, shaking his head in a “You pervert!” kind of way before kissing Neville on the mouth.

‘Remember in Umbridge’s office, against the window?’ Draco asked after they kissed a lot more.

‘M-hm.’

‘Remember saying yes?’

‘Yes,’ Neville replied with a slight hiss.

‘Is this window okay?’

Consent was granted with a nod, a kiss, and a series of concealment charms.

‘Isn’t disillusionment supposed to occur after sex?’ Draco asked as they lost sight of each other. Neville could hear his smile. He closed his eyes and it was like the nights in his bed, in the dark. Instinct took over and they did everything by feel.

He was a lot taller than Draco since the Fifth Year proposition when he’d been sure Draco would fit perfectly behind him while pressing him against the glass. Switching partway through and hoisting Draco onto his hips made things more comfortable on a physical level. It would have been positively wonderful if their emotional connection didn’t become increasingly fragile with every thrust and grunt. They couldn’t bring themselves to speak or kiss goodbye afterward. Neville didn’t read anything into it. Hell was approaching. They were scared. Disappointing sex was the least of their problems.

*~~~*
The Dark Mark hadn’t stopped burning. The degree and patterns varied minute-to-minute but Draco didn’t answer any summons. Snape sought him out before breakfast and commanded him not to return to the Dark Lord’s side ‘under any circumstance, is that clear? I will kill you myself before putting your parents through that.’

‘Truly feeling the god-fatherly love, thanks Severus.’

Snape’s sneer had a curl of amusement at one corner. He briefly, only after an agonising hesitation, put a hand on Draco’s shoulder then floated away in a billow of cloak. That fond farewell meant Draco would not be killed on sight, but tortured first while his wandless parents watched. Perhaps he could shave a piece off the Dark Lord first.

‘Professor McGonagall,’ Draco called. She clearly hadn’t noticed that he’d stayed behind when the Hufflepuffs and other Slytherins left her classroom. He wasn’t sure his confidence could withstand her piercing stare much longer so hurried on with what he needed to say. ‘What do you know about horcruxes?’

Professor McGonagall locked them in the room with a snap of her wand, despite looking ready to vomit or faint to the floor. Terror solidified in Draco’s heart, pulverising his feeble hope that the things were merely a literary device. ‘I don’t intend to make one,’ he hastened to reassure the one teacher determined to treat him like any other student. ‘But I think I know someone who has, someone who doesn’t deserve to live forever.’

‘Draco, please,’ McGonagall took a small step toward him with each word. ‘You must avoid so much as thinking about confronting this person.’

Her concern pissed him off. ‘Why, because I’m not Saint Potter?’ he spat angrily.

‘Potter’s parents and godfather are all dead! His Muggle family showed him all the affection yours would bestow upon a talking dog turd. Those closest to him are in hiding in one form or another. I doubt even Potter wants to be Harry Potter!’

‘None of that matters if this person made another Horcrux during the holiday!’

‘Another?’ McGonagall stumbled backward with a hand on her heart.

‘There are three things I need to know about horcruxes before choosing whether to act or not: how to identify them; how to destroy them; and can they be living things? I could have gotten Longbottom to ask and spared myself all this other bollocks but I’d rather keep that particular term out of his vocabulary.’

McGonagall’s expression softened. ‘I know you care for…’

‘No, you think I care. There aren’t many places a goody-two-shoe dullard like Longbottom would hear the word horcrux. Knowing my luck, Nott would be the one punished for letting it slip.’

Mentioning Nott directly after insulting Longbottom guaranteed McGonagall felt like a pawn in Draco’s game. She witnessed the argument between the two Slytherins after the Yule Ball, knew about the attempted kiss that started it. Her spine and jaw tightened in tangible distaste. Draco played this move too soon. He would have to get the necessary information from elsewhere.

He also had to convince Longbottom that everything that passed between them meant nothing. He was not looking forward to it, but it had to be done before either of them could be brought before He Who Must Not Be Maimed. Longbottom hated him before and they both got over it. They’d find their way back if the Dark Fraud fell-hopefully.

*~~~*

Neville saw that Draco wasn’t alone in the astronomy tower. Blaise Zabini was wrapped around him.

‘Told you that moron would accept anything you fed him.’ Zabini barely stopped snogging Draco to talk.

‘You also said he’d he offer information for the privilege.’

‘I can’t believe you let it go on so long, those grubby hands and his disgusting Muggle-loving mouth all over you.’

‘It would have been worth the sacrifice if that buffoon had anything valuable to contribute. Potter clearly thinks he’s as stupid and useless as we do.’

Neville backed away before they began to laugh at his naivety. The sound followed him down the stairs regardless. His thoughts flipped like a coin. Malfoy had played him like a golden snitch. Perhaps the scene with Zabini had been the act. Draco knew Neville would be walking along that corridor so he wanted him to see this performance and support the spy theory if they were captured - or discover the truth in the most callous manner possible. That seemed more typical of Draco Malfoy. Neville recalled his warning before they first kissed beside that same window: “I will use, betray, and destroy you-anything to be free.” He should have known then it was all a charade.

*~~~*

One H word had been spotted in Ravenclaw tower, probably looking for the other. Draco made preparations to search for both as the students of Slytherin House were escorted to a passage out of Hogwarts.

‘You can’t trust Crabbe or Goyle. They intend to hand you over to the Dark Lord once you cock up!’ Nott told him in an angry whisper. ‘If you do succeed in finding it then they will take it off you before handing you over. Either way Draco, you’re dead. McGonagall’s given us a free ticket to safety. We don’t have to get involved.’

‘That thing pretending to be one of us is holding my mother prisoner. Yours will be worrying in Hogsmeade, which is why I’m not convincing you to help.’

‘There’s nothing more to say then?’

Draco shook his head, concealed himself and stepped away from the other Slytherins. He signalled for Crabbe and Goyle to do the same. Knowledge of his opponents and instinct told him to wait by the room with the vanishing cabinet. Potter, Weasley and Granger proved him right.

*~~~*

Defending Hogwarts was exhilarating, invigorating, and gave all the agonising and degrading crap that happened before a purpose. This was the time of Neville’s life.

Imminent death and dismemberment aside…

*~~~*

Crabbe-dead, horcrux-destroyed, along with the hidden room and Mother’s wand. Being right about the Dark Fraud provided no consolation when every breath was despair and self-loathing, robbing him of the ability to perform rudimentary magic without a wand, possibly at all. Reduced to living like a Muggle, how ironic.

Everyone was an enemy. Bluffing his way past Death Eaters and Hogwarts defenders in search of a fallen wand, he’d settle for a Mudblood’s if it got him into the robed worm’s camp, so he could try to redeem himself by releasing his mother.

Draco crept past Dolohov and Lupin and plastered a gloating sneer in place when he saw Neville. Lupin had been losing. Draco couldn’t be true to his heart in case Dolohov overheard and killed Neville in front of him. ‘You didn’t actually believe I liked you did you Longbottom?’ he asked with as much acid as he could muster. ‘Six years of insults wasn’t enough to prove I find you detestable?’

‘That works both ways, ferret. The only surprising thing in all this is that you proved to be as gullible as you think I am.’ Neville’s nose almost touched Draco’s cheek as he leaned in with a leer. ‘Want to know who I thought about while fucking you? Can you guess? Starts with…’

Draco failed to feign apathy but he would not sink to brawling like a Muggle. ‘If I had a wand you’d be dead.’

‘If you had a wand you’d be mistaken for a wizard.’

The crunch of his elbow against Neville’s nose wasn’t satisfying enough. He’d mistaken this alleged beacon of integrity for a lover and refuge. Draco wanted to see the true Neville Longbottom and provoked him. ‘Come on then. I’m unarmed. Do your worst. Show me what kind of hero evolved from that fat squib who used to wet his pants at the sight of me!’

Neville raised his wand, face contorted by loathing. Draco’s arm burned and the Dark Lord’s sonorous voice granted a truce for one hour. Dolohov ran past them.

‘DO IT!’ Draco shouted.

Longbottom lowered his wand arm. ‘You’re not worth it.’ The words held Draco in place as securely as an Immobilus charm.

It had all been for nothing.

*~~~*

Harry was dead, but then he wasn’t. Voldemort was the most powerful dark wizard, but then he wasn’t. Neville killed Voldemort’s snake like Harry said, because Harry said. Draco would no doubt make something of that.

No. No thinking like that. Neville had been in love with Draco, but now he wasn’t. Draco pretended to have a heart, but he didn’t. Kisses, tears, and words of comfort had all been fake. Neville had to focus on what was real.

*~~~*

Waiting around was stupid but Draco wasn’t ready to leave yet. Nor was he able to talk to Neville, which was the sole reason for waiting around. He had to know for certain if anything that happened this year was worth remembering, if they’d told each other similar lies and put on similar performances to protect each other, or if Neville truly had been lying back and thinking of Potter while Draco laid himself bare.

Nothing hurt so much. Not the fading brand on his arm when it was active. Not the scar through his shoulder.

No…one thing, that this could be precisely how Neville felt seeing him with Blaise.

*~~~*

The weight of Godric Gryffindor’s sword enabled Neville to swagger to the table where Draco and his parents sat. He addressed the Malfoys before Draco could react. ‘Narcissa, Lucius. You may have heard particularly vicious rumours that Draco and I have been fucking throughout the year in an attempt to gain information from each other. For that to be true, we would have had to actually talk during sex.’ Neville glowered at Draco. ‘Or written political secrets on our…’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Draco hissed. His parents were like salt-and-pepper astonishment dispensers as they stared at him from either side.

‘It’s all over now, isn’t it? This is the only chance to tell you what a spineless, arrogant, vile, and worthless creature you really are.’

‘Shame you couldn’t be bothered doing that before we played bareback. Merlin knows what diseases you gave me, Muggle-pox most likely.’

Neville let his face twist into a grimace of angry disgust to match Malfoy’s. He felt physically ill. ‘I hate you. Whatever curse brought us together, I’m glad it’s worn off.’ He turned away.

‘Wish I’d handed you over to Bellatrix now,’ Draco muttered behind him. ‘Jumped up, Mudblood loving, squib.’

‘Draco,’ Narcissa asked quietly as a chair scraped along the floor. ‘Draco,’ she repeated sternly.

Neville waited for a curse, hex, or soul-slicing insult to hit him in the back. When all he heard was the scrape of two more chairs he turned around. The Malfoys were leaving. Of course, they were all unarmed.

‘There was no need to attack him after you’d won,’ Narcissa scolded Neville as Lucius followed Draco out of the hall.

‘He hasn’t precisely made my life peach-fuzz and unicorns...’

Narcissa swiftly stepped forward. Her voice was colder than her reputation. ‘No-one’s life has been peach-fuzz and unicorns, you manipulative blood-traitor harlot.’

Without thinking, Neville grabbed Narcissa’s arm and snarled in her face. ‘Your precious boy used me, not the other way around.’

‘So why weren’t you brought before the Dark Lord?’ Narcissa replied as she calmly pulled her sleeve free and shook out the wrinkles. ‘Bella would have been very pleased to see you.’

‘I’m crap at Occlumency and Draco wouldn’t want auntie watching him star in my memory-porn, hearing the lustful lies he told me-knowing I loved him. Voldemort may have mistakenly assumed he loved me back.’

‘Is this why my son is almost in tears-overwhelming guilt at breaking your delicate heart?’ Narcissa asked snidely before walking away with sweeping, determined strides.

‘Perhaps he finally realised everyone he’s ever met hates him!’ Neville shouted as maliciously as possible at her retreating back.

Ginny, Luna, Lavender, Seamus and Dean crowded around to enquire after Neville’s mental stability or offer comfort, depending on the nature of their friendship. He told them all to piss off. The reckless way he waved the sword about caused it to disappear but his glare was enough to clear a path to Gryffindor tower. He stomped heavily up the stairs to the familiar dorm room, stared at the empty beds with his back to the closing door, sank onto the one he and Draco used to share, and cried.

Epilogue

Scorpius rarely saw Father lose his temper to such an extreme and was tempted to cower in the sitting room’s largest armchair with a pile of cushions over his head. Mother was pleased with his OWL results but Father had a harpy in his hat over Scorpius’ intention to study herbology as part of his NEWT.

‘I don’t give a centaur’s foreskin how good you are at the stupid subject. Now it’s no longer compulsory…’

‘I Enjoy It! Professor Longbottom…’

‘Neville Longbottom is an utter cunt!’

‘Draco!’ Mother’s hand flew to cover her mouth so rapidly an index finger almost became lodged up her nose.

Scorpius privately admitted that hearing the word delivered so sharply from Father’s irate lips made it the Worst Profanity Ever. He was also slightly scared. Everyone at Hogwarts liked the herbology professor, which made Scorpius wonder why Father expected the teacher to hate him so much. ‘He seems nice enough.’

‘I went to school with him for seven years, believing his nice and innocent routine. It wasn’t until the final day, when war properly came to Hogwarts, that I learned the truth. Everyone knew I was a prick so don’t try using that against me.’

‘If I drop herbology then I won’t have enough subjects to achieve NEWT.’

‘So pick up niffler grooming or something. I don’t care what.’

Scorpius sat forward to protest.

‘Obey your father,’ Mother said quietly.

Scorpius nodded, replacing herbology with Muggle studies on his timetable. Mother shared Father’s anger at this choice and privately scolded Scorpius for deliberately being contentious.

‘I’ll do divination instead, if you tell me why…’

‘I know nothing beyond twenty-five year old rumours and I’m certainly not telling you those.’

Scorpius suspected Mother was lying but didn’t dare ask Father, Aunt Daphne, or his godfather Theodore Nott for details. He came to accept that he’d remain ignorant on this one subject-until he and his friends were caught selling stolen alcohol to Third Years behind the Shrieking Shack. The Slytherin sixth years were using a drinking game to keep tally of who sold the most, all in the name of quality control, and Scorpius had scored half a dozen port-jelly shots more than his closest rival.

‘It had to be you,’ Professor Longbottom said with an air of predestination as he gestured for Scorpius to follow his co-conspirators out of Hogsmeade.

Scorpius managed a cocky swagger rather than drunken stagger, turned back to smirk at their escort, and tripped over his own ankle in shock. That was some severe disapproval on Prof Longbot’s face.

‘You, Warrington,’ Longbottom sent a jinx at the dirt beside Isobel’s right shoe and the whole group jumped, ‘help him up.’

Scorpius shrugged Isobel’s hands away and glared at the professor. ‘Father was right about you, Cunt-bottom.’

His friends’ simultaneous step away was accompanied by a chorus of gasps. If looks could kill, the professor’s eyes would be shouting Avada Kedavra! Scorpius tried not to scuttle backwards.

‘Your father handed out threats and bribes like paedophiles offer lollipops. Every soul in that school feared or detested him, except me! ’ Professor Longbottom’s irate expression shifted as though a ghost twisted inside him before forcing its way out. ‘Report to Professor Vector for detention, all of you,’ he said bluntly. A flick of his wand sent the appropriate number of detention slips to the headmaster’s office as a tight formation of paper planes before he turned his back on the miscreants.

‘Sir,’ Scorpius called as he hurried to his feet, frantically smacking dust from his bum and following the professor. An underarm stinging jinx hit the toe of his sneaker to discourage pursuit and he had to hop all the way to the castle infirmary.

Professor Vector had dismissed the others by the time Scorpius reached his office and the portrait of Professor Snape spoke before Vector did more than offer Scorpius a seat. ‘I’ve notified your father. He will be along shortly.’

Scorpius cringed. He’d received numerous admonitions from Severus Snape’s companion portrait in Malfoy Manor. It had been a gift for Grandmother Cissy from Harry Potter. For Severus too, Scorpius supposed, since it allowed him to be surrounded by friends after death.

‘Severus and I will take it from here, Professor Vector,’ his predecessor Professor McGonagall insisted. ‘An issue between our former students needs to be resolved before dealing with this one.’

Scorpius leapt out of the chair. ‘I should come back later the…’ Scorpius gave up his escape attempt and sat. Mother and Father weren’t exaggerating. The stern pursing of McGonagall’s lips had to be seen to be believed.

‘Here’s one,’ Professor Dumbledore’s portrait announced while turning pages in a newspaper. Scorpius wondered why he would want to read the same articles every day until his painting was destroyed.

Father opened the door and flopped into the chair beside Scorpius. ‘You get into more trouble than Sirius Black! What have you done now?’

‘Extended my entrepreneurial skills and insulted a teacher.’

‘Which one?’

Scorpius picked at a torn fingernail instead of replying.

‘Are you serious? After the conversation we had in summer about specifically not provoking…? I’m sorely tempted to smack you up the head with that-whatever that humungous thing over there is.’ Father gestured vaguely at a wall full of hefty artefacts.

‘Sorry.’

‘Not good enough.’ Father stood and prepared to leave.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I warned you, boy. You’re on your own this time.’ Father suddenly assumed an attack stance. His raised wand didn’t waver, nor did his snarl.

Scorpius had never seen him like this. There was something frightening and hollow in his eyes that underscored his towering rage. Perhaps this was why the parents of Scorpius’ friends wouldn’t let them come over if Father was home. Scorpius carefully turned his head to see what prompted such a change and tried to shrink into a corner of his chair. Professor Longbottom stood in the doorway. His posture and expression precisely mirrored Father’s. Scorpius timidly raised a hand. ‘May I go to the bathroom?’ He’d consumed a decent amount of alcohol earlier and feared he might wet his pants or vomit if the adults began duelling in front of him. Father granted permission to leave with an impatient wave of his left hand and the professor stepped aside without lowering his wand or diverting his hateful stare. If he was the only student who hadn’t hated Father, like he said, then Scorpius didn’t want to meet any that did.

He heard two adult voices bark over each other as he leapt down the first three stairs. ‘I trusted…’ and ‘…believed in you!’ Their identical tone held more meaning than the similar words.

Scorpius got it. He’d seen Father’s eyes haunted by the same soul-eating hopelessness from time to time. They’d loved each other, deeply by the sound of it, without knowing that love was returned. How dreadful. Burning with curiosity replaced the urge to pee in terror so Scorpius waited beside the stone gargoyle at the bottom of the spiral staircase. It wasn’t long before the herbology professor came down the stairs. Apart from pink-rimmed eyes, he looked the same as he had during herbology lessons.

‘Sorry Sir,’ Scorpius said sincerely from the other side of the gargoyle. ‘I didn’t, um, know.’

‘That’s no excuse. Draco’s waiting for you. He’s not in the mood for lies.’

Scorpius hurried up the stairs. ‘Alright?’ he asked with concern. His father stopped inspecting the wall of humungous whatever they were.

‘I had to floo your mother since you face expulsion for your entrepreneurial skills.’ Disappointment may have replaced fury, but Father was still mad as he helped himself to Professor Vector’s brandy and the most comfortable visitor’s chair.

‘I meant, you know, the other thing. Professor Longbottom.’

‘Nothing warranted that level of profanity from you. From me, it was about twenty five years overdue, but you had no right. He faces disciplinary action for jinxing a student, which he won’t contest. Your godfather was right about his integrity.’

Scorpius noticed the quick, silent communication between Father and Snape’s portrait. ‘You’re never going to tell me the history behind this, are you?’ he asked.

‘No point. Lies can’t be untold, mistakes can’t be unmade…’

‘Love can’t be unloved,’ Scorpius interjected quietly. His father looked at him shrewdly.

‘True. Earnest apologies, explanations and forgiveness can be offered, hopefully they’re accepted.’ Not the subtlest hint Father had ever given. ‘To stop you asking again-or bothering anyone else about it-the darkest year of our lives wasn’t quite as horrid as we imagined. Important memories from that time became tainted by our mistakes, mostly mine, and now they’re clean again. Nothing else changes, the end. Welcome to adulthood, the greatest anticlimax in life. I’d offer you a sip of brandy to toast this moment but, you know, the other thing.’

Scorpius smiled because Father was willing to forgive him. He was wrong about nothing else changing, though. Scorpius never again saw that soul-eating hopelessness haunt his father’s eyes.