Chapter Text
“ Come on, you can do it little dragon” Cass hisses encouragingly.
“Breathe in and let it out slowly. Remember, fire comes from the breath” Hyp chimes in.
Draco leans over the sink and tries to do as he’s told. After he completed the ‘venom bad trip’ as Harry started to call it, Draco finally started to train into his changes. Potter was very upset after the whole event, except surprisingly more with Hyp than with Draco himself. But after he apologized profusely and promised to never do anything like it again without warning Harry first, that was the end of that. Even weirder, there were no repercussions over the destroyed kitchenware.
The last time Draco broke a plate he didn’t walk away so unscathed.
His fingers grip the marble edge nervously and he pulls a deep breath in, releasing it slowly. A small sliver of flame comes out, filling the bowl of the sink with a constant stream, and Draco starts to think he’s finally got it when all goes to hell.
An itch starts to build in the back of his throat, like the beginnings of a cough, and he tries hard to ignore it. The itch then turns to a burn that builds and builds, and before he knows it, he retches, the flames spreading violently around him.
“ Congratulations, that was even worse than last time” Hyp chimes in from where he’s perched on a stool, at a safe distance.
“ Stop being so sour” Cass hisses in reproach “ You’ll get it in time Draco. Wanna hear a pun to relax?”
Draco smiles past the disappointment and the sore throat, sparing a chuckle at Hyp’s hidden eye-roll “ Sure”
“Why do snakes live longer than dragons?” she pauses for the punchline, and despite himself, Draco waits with bated breath “ because they don’t smoke”
She’s still hissing herself silly when the floo flares to life and Potter appears, a whopping five hours later than usual. He appears dizzy and leans on the fireplace to steady himself, but his face splits to a grin as soon as he spots Draco anyway.
“Malfoy!” he exclaims overly cheerful, and Draco’s eyebrows start their climb just as a sneer tugs on his lips.
Harry throws his arms up in glee and trips over his own feet when trying to get out of the floo, but manages to right himself just in time. It’s too much for Draco, he can’t hold it in.
“Training for the ballet, Potter?”
Everyone freezes in silence for a second, before Harry tumbles down the rest of the way to the floor in a heap of giggles, making Draco snicker to himself.
They are in a good place now, having fallen quietly into domesticity. Draco finally started figuring out what Harry expects of him, and Potter can read him better, no longer getting so easily offended. In this fertile ground, banter starts to form, and they start to hold longer conversations.
Draco is less terrified of causing Harry’s anger, even if he still feels a thrill shoot up his spine after every witty quip he delivers. Like he is getting away with crime. Still, there’s something Draco must ask of him, and he’s unsure of what will be his reaction. Something came up, a thing so unexpected, and well, lucky that he wonders if karma won’t bite him back later.
He approaches and pokes Harry’s side with his foot “Are you drunk?”
Potter squirms but smiles lazily up at him “I sure am. Surprise party at the DMLE”
“Because of your promotion?”
“Uhum” he hums, grin still in place “You should see Ron, he’s in an even worse state than I am!”
“I believe you” Draco smirks but tries to get back on track “There's a favor I need to ask”
“Merlin, is it another snake?”
“No.” Draco’s brows furrow in confusion “Maybe I should wait for you to sober up”
“Ask now! If I don’t remember this tomorrow, just tell me I said yes”
“You don’t even know what it is”
“But I know my answer won’t change” Harry’s looking at him with a too soft expression, dark eyelashes fanning over rosy cheeks, and a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. It’s too much for Draco, this needs to stop.
“I need you to take me to the post office. Tomorrow” Draco rushes, trying to dispel the image quickly.
It works in a way. Harry goes deadly still as if processing something important mentally, then he suddenly jumps up “Draco! You must come with me!”
He rushes up the stairs, with Draco struggling to catch up with him “What? Why?”
Potter goes straight into his room, barely catching himself before he hits his nightstand. Draco stands uselessly in the doorway, unsure if he’s allowed to step any further.
“Don’t just stand there Draco! Help me look!” Harry starts pulling stuff out from the drawers, leaving the room in even worse disarray.
“Look for what?” Draco steps tentatively in, gazing curiously at all the knickknacks strewn about.
“Aha!” Potter exclaims, holding something up victoriously. He extends it towards Draco more carefully and his heart stops when he sees what it is.
“No…” In Potter’s hand sits his hawthorn wand, still as beautiful and pure as it was in the day that Harry took it from him. His fingers are almost touching it when he snatches his hand back “You can’t…” Draco shakes his head, incapable of completing the sentence.
“Yes, I can. I checked the contract” Potter’s eyes are vibrant in their green, as he extends the wand further “It’s yours, no one can take it from you”
Draco’s hand finally closes over it, and a rush goes over his skin, golden warm. Just like when he first touched it all those years ago at Olivander’s.
“Thank yo-” he turns to Harry, but he’s already sprawled over the bed in deep sleep.
This must be it. Something died, rotted, and then crawled inside Harry’s mouth while he was asleep. It’s the only answer for the taste he feels.
He blinks, but the world is too bright, too blurry, and he tries in vain to readjust the glasses that keep digging into his ears. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, but someone has thrown a blanket over him. Probably Draco. Unless Cass has grown arms overnight.
Uhm. Draco. Draco wanted to ask something of him? God, he just hopes it isn’t another stroll through the countryside. Merlin, not today. Today is for greasy food and tea.
With great difficulty, Harry manages to leave his bed and stumbles to the doorway. Ugh, he slept in his shoes. Gross. He’s just turning towards the bathroom when something distinctly blond catches his peripheral vision.
“Draco? What are you doing down there?”
Draco blinks bleary up at him from where he is sitting on the floor, just beside Harry’s doorway “How much do you remember from last night?”
The words send a shiver down Harry’s spine. No. It can’t be.
He’s still had his clothes on, his shoes! Harry wouldn’t fuck anyone while wearing shoes! Oh, maybe he kissed him? Fuck, he really hopes he didn’t. Not that the idea of kissing Malfoy doesn’t appeal to him, the problem is exactly that it appeals too much.
The issue is not that Draco is a man, no. Harry is as gay as the fourth of July, he already had a whole crisis about it years ago and is gladly over it. But the power imbalance here scares him. Being obsessed with, and having a small crush on Draco Malfoy is nothing new, but the situation they’re in is. Even being enemies at a war would’ve been simpler than this, the morals he would have to question could perhaps be easier.
So he takes the safest bet “I remember you asked me something? A favor?”
Draco nods apprehensively “To take me to the post office today. You said yes” he adds quickly, making Harry question the validity of that “What else do you remember?”
Oh shit. There’s something else to remember? He scrambles through his brain but comes up empty “Is? Is there something else?”
A pained look crosses Draco and Harry starts to panic. My God, what has he done?
“You gave me this” Draco pulls something out from the waistband of his jeans, and oh, his wand. Harry releases a breath. It seems drunk Harry has a more efficient memory than the sober one. He had been meaning to return it ages ago.
“Well?” Draco asks when Harry says nothing in return “Don’t- don’t you want it back?”
Harry’s eyes furrow “Why would I?”
“I’m your slave,” Draco says, but concedes when he sees Harry’s mouth start to open in protest “though you say otherwise. Even so I’m still your prisoner, a convicted Death Eater. I tortured and almost killed people! I could murder you in your sleep” smoke starts to leave his mouth, and Harry notices with wonder that Draco seems to be getting angry.
“We both know you’re not like that. I trust you”
This seems to stun Draco into silence, and his pupils keep doing that weird contracting thing again. It’s very mesmerizing, and Harry’s brain still hasn’t fully recovered from his hangover and subsequent slight panic.
“But why now? Why not before? Was I under some sort of test?”
“No. It- It honestly slipped my mind” Harry answers sheepishly.
“Oh,” the smoke withdraws suddenly and several walls close in on Draco’s expression, leaving behind a blank mask “Very well. We must leave soon, the post office closes at noon on Saturdays. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs,” he says cooly, getting up and turning to leave, back ramrod straight.
“Draco…”
“Just one more thing” he pauses almost to the stairs, but still doesn’t look at Harry “Do you know who occupied my room before?”
Harry wonders where did the question come from, but answers it without protest, trying to appease him “I’m not sure. I guess it was just a random guest bedroom”
Draco nods and just climbs the stairs without another word.
Silly, stupid, naive to think he occupied a single ounce of Potter’s thoughts. Draco should know better. He means nothing in Harry’s life. He probably just refuses to order Draco around to spare energy, because he isn’t worthy of Potter even going through the trouble to do so. He’s probably just like the neighborhood cat that you feed once or twice but never goes the length to actually adopt.
Draco shoves the dragonhide boots into his feet forcefully and starts tying them with an angry huff. He was worried about Harry’s reaction to him having a parcel in the mail, but he sees now that he won’t give a fuck. Draco could do a number of unspeakable things with his bloody wand and Potter wouldn’t care.
Merlin, Draco wants his attention. Desperately. It’s like Hogwarts all over again. He never was more than a pesky fly inside Potter’s mind and fighting every day to remain at least that. Better bad attention than no attention at all, right? But Draco has learned just how terrible bad attention can really be. In the hands of the Dark Lord, and in the hands of the Old Master.
He brings his forehead to his knees and allows a moment for self-pity. Draco remains, if nothing else, a coward.
They arrive at a dingy alleyway and Draco looks with confusion at all the muggle buildings around them before Harry grabs his arm and pulls him along.
“Potter, where-”
“I’m sorry! I was thinking too hard about fish and chips!”
What? Draco’s brows furrow in confusion, what does that have to do with anything? Potter keeps walking quickly, trying to leave the muggle area, and he struggles to catch up until Harry stops abruptly and enters through an inconspicuous black door.
They’re inside the Leaky Cauldron, Draco thinks. He only came here once with a group of other Slytherin boys as a sort of a small childhood adventure. His parents wouldn’t be caught dead inside such an establishment and he never told them about his escapade.
As soon as the door closes every pair of eyes turn in their direction, and for once Draco doesn’t know if it’s because of him or because of Potter and his bloody fanbase. He knows that he can be considered a sort of social pariah now, and the public walks of shame Old Master used to take him on at the start of his service certainly didn’t help.
Harry continues on slowly and waves to the innkeeper “Hey Tom!”
The innkeeper merely nods and Potter lowers his hand awkwardly after having kept it raised for too long. This continues much in the same manner until they are already near Gringotts and Harry can’t contain his distaste.
“What is going on with these people today?” He asks quietly from the corner of his mouth “It’s like I grew an extra head or something”
“I’m afraid the extra head is me”
“Oh. I’m sorry! I didn’t realize-” Harry blushes in embarrassment and Draco takes pity on him.
“It’s ok, I’m used to it”
They continue on in awkward silence until Potter walks past the entrance to the alley “Where’re you going?”
Harry turns back puzzled, pointing further down the road “The post near the market?”
“Are you mental? With that line? We wouldn't leave it yet today!”
“Where do you want to go then?” Potter’s brows cross in irritation, and Draco waves pointedly to the alley behind him “The one in Knockturn?” Harry asks with distaste.
“What? Scared, Potter?”
Harry huffs in indignant surprise and stomps towards Knockturn Alley without a word, Draco following from a safe distance while he snickers to himself.
The post isn’t too deep into the shady shops, just a little beyond Noggin and Bounce, and is just as well. Even though Draco has known these streets since his chubby toddler legs could walk, the number of stairs on the way back up can destroy the morals of even the strongest.
Just as he predicted, there’s only a hag in the line in front of him, and he waits politely for her to finish before approaching the clerk.
“Good morning Shunpike. I believe there’s a parcel waiting for me?”
He narrows his eyes a bit, as though doing a great mental exercise until he finally recognizes Draco “Ah! Malfoy! Been a while” he always thought Shunpike was a little slow on the uptake “Where’s your master? Waiting outside? Didn’t see anything with his name on it lately”
Draco swallows and looks surreptitiously at Potter trying to gauge his reaction “No. He died a while ago. Dreadful business the whole thing”
“OH. Did you- you know?” Shunpike drags his finger across his throat and sticks his tongue out in the universal sign of murder. Draco’s eyes widen and he glances quickly around in worry. The last thing he needs is people spreading the word that he’s a murderer on top of everything else.
“No, I most certainly did not! It was an accident, he fell down the stairs!”
“Well, rest in peace in heaven. RIP to a great man” he does the sign of the cross before kissing his fingers and flicking them up. Merlin, trust Shunpike to add Christianism to everything already going on with him.
“Wait, aren't you-?” Harry finally opens his mouth, having been focused on the exchange this whole time.
“The guy from the Knight Bus? Nah. That’s my brother Stan. I’m Brad, we get mixed up all the time”
“Oh. Nice to meet you, I’m Harry. Harry Potter” Draco can’t help but roll his eyes, yes. Yes, everyone can see that.
But apparently Shunpike only just realized it. His eyes widen and his face turns pasty, making his plethora of pimples stand out “Auror Potter! We just had an inspection last week. I trust everything was in order?”
Harry narrows his eyes in immediate suspicion, and the man starts to sweat, trying to clean his nose discreetly “You can have a look on the back if you’d like. My mates just bought quite a lot of sugar, and that’s stored there. We’re having a party later you see, need to start making the desserts-”
“Shunpike!” Draco interrupts. He isn’t leaving without getting what he came here for, and that isn’t happening if the clerk gets arrested for possession of cocaine “My parcel, please”
“Oh! Sure, right away” he turns to leave, but asks “Mr. Potter, do you also-?”
This snaps Harry from whatever Auror duties induced trance he was in “Ah, no, nothing. I’m with Draco”
Shunpike’s eyebrows raise and he gestures between the two “Oohhh, are you two… you know?”
“He’s my new master” Draco answers dryly before other kinds of rumors start to spread.
“Oh. I see”
He goes around the back and after a few clicks and bangles, they hear him shout “Ah! Malfoy, why didn’t you tell me the big guy is yours?” he comes over carrying a large trapezoid box and levitating a small rectangular one “Quite a nightmare this thing. Can’t be shrunk, can’t be levitated, and is too heavy for owls to carry. We’ve been puzzling over it since it arrived”
Draco just stares quietly, waiting for him to just hand the blasted thing over, but no such luck.
“Well?” Shunpike asks.
“Well, what?”
“What is it?!”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern”
Shunpike stares at him incredulously, before sputtering “Ei, Malfoy! Don’t be like that! If Mr. Marlowe were here he would talk your ear off for sure”
He would definitely do a lot more than that, and Draco’s breath catches in his throat in fear. With Potter loosening his leash he notices with horror that he’s reverting to his old ways, and it worries him a bit. Not that Old Master will come to haunt him from the grave, but Draco and Harry weren’t on exactly good terms before this whole thing started.
Shunpike huffs when Draco doesn’t say anything, taking his silence for mourning “Still too soon, eh? I hope Mr. Potter can be as good to you as he was. Just sign here and you’re free to go”
Harry walks to the apparition point full of unease. Besides being hungover and hungry - so much that he ended up at the Leaky Cauldron by mistake - his head is swimming with questions he managed to hold off until now, the least of which being what in the bloody hell is inside Draco’s box, and more importantly, who sent it.
“Old Master was very worried about appearances” Malfoy breaks the silence, and continues after Harry’s puzzled look “I saw your weirded look back at the post. When Shunpike spoke well of him”
Harry nods and waits for Draco to continue. He doesn’t want to think ill of Stan’s brother, but him acting like Draco’s slavery was completely normal and ordinary left him with a bad taste in his mouth, even more so after he seemed to reminisce fond memories of that bastard.
“No one knew about the lessons he gave me. He was- embarrassed of having such an ill-behaved pet” Harry doubts that very much, and stares as Draco hugs the box he’s carrying close, almost hiding behind it.
“Criminals aren’t usually keen on broadcasting their transgressions,” he says bitterly. More than seeing others speak well of the man, what worries him most is the fact that Draco still won’t admit aloud how bad he actually was.
“Spoken like a true Auror” Malfoy smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He wasn’t a criminal. It was completely within the contract. It was his right.”
“Doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do”
Harry doesn’t really know how to take it from there, but it turns out that his stomach makes the decision for him, choosing that moment to grumble loudly “Wanna grab something to eat?”
“Lead the way” this time, Draco’s smile is a real one.
When they make it home, Harry’s belly is full of salty fish and sour fries, and he’s almost bursting from keeping his curiosity in check. He avoided saying anything, afraid of Draco’s coldness of the morning making a return, but he can’t hold it in anymore “What’s in there anyway?”
Draco does an expression that lands weirdly somewhere between frightened and gleeful but settles into the latter with a smirk. “Well, let’s find out, shall we?”
Apparently forgetting the fact that he now has a wand, Malfoy goes down to the kitchen in search of a knife, and Harry uses the opportunity to throw a detection charm on the box’s way, looking for any type of dark artifact. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Draco, he does, but that trust hasn’t turned blind yet. Unsurprisingly, the charm comes clean.
Finally, Malfoy comes back and stabs into the cardboard box. Harry’s breath catches when he sees it “An electric guitar?” She's really a beauty, a minty green strat, with the protective film covering the pickguard still shining new.
“Yes,” Draco’s eyes shine in excitement, and he bites his lip in glee.
“I didn’t know you played”
“I don’t” Draco smirks at Harry’s confused look “Mother taught me piano. I think I can figure something out from there”
Harry raises his brows, but weirdly enough, realizes that he believes him “Who sent it?”
“There was a game on the radio” Draco starts apprehensively “You had to write your name and the name of a song on a piece of paper, and floo them. If the next song that played was the one you wrote, you could get a guitar” Draco’s face turns a little worried and sheepish “I still have the letter confirming I won, I can show it to you? As proof? If you want-”
“I believe you. There’s no need” Harry grins in assurance “Which song was it?”
He grins back “Magic Works by the Weird Sisters”
Draco sits on top of his rug, with his back leaning against the bed, carefully trying to pluck through Für Elise. He chooses to forgo the amp for now, still too intimidated by the whole thing, besides being afraid of making too much noise and upsetting Harry.
“ Draco,” he looks up to see Cass approaching him lazily “ Why are dragons good guitarists? Because they know all the scales” she starts hissing to herself as usual immediately, twisting her body as she goes.
Harry pokes his head in and raises his brows at the display, but doesn’t comment further, probably way too used to her terrible puns “Can you play Wonderwall already?”
“I haven’t even the faintest of what that is” he rolls his eyes lightly, but decides to humor him.
“Really? Don’t they play it on the radio?” Potter moves and plops down in front of him “Apparently it’s the first thing you learn when you start guitar. Seamus had a whole phase and played it in every Gryffindor party, no matter if anyone cared to hear it or not”
Draco’s lip curls in a sneer of distaste “It seems my suspicions are confirmed and Gryffindor is a terrible place after all” he fiddles with the strings anxiously, plucking random notes “Are you sure you want me to learn it then?”
“It’s like a rite of passage, you kinda have to” Harry gives him a cheeky grin, and lays down to hear Draco completely butcher the instrument.
He fucks around with Chopin the next day, taking turns between laying on the rug with his radio and laying on the rug with his guitar.
When Potter arrives from work it’s with a paper bag tucked under his arm that he immediately shoves in Draco’s direction. Inside it, he finds the book ‘ Guitar 101: from beginner to advanced, with tabs to 53 muggle and wizarding classics! ’.
It stuns him into silence for a moment.
More than anything, this small gesture shows that Harry cared enough to think about Draco throughout his day. It shows that, at least, he is supportive of Draco having things, and taking on activities that are not about Potter himself.
He can’t just be that eager to hear Wonderwall, right?
Inside the bag, he also finds a vinyl record with the song, and they lay down on the rug of the drawing-room to listen to it. For the first time in a long while, Draco allows himself to let his eyes sweep through the Black Family Tapestry.
Just as he would do when a kid, he immediately seeks his favorites: Hesper, who for some reason is depicted as a skull; Licorous, who just has a funny expression; his mother’s cousin Sirius, whose disownment was always kept in mystery; and of course, mother and himself, his boyish face staring back with a sneer that he seems incapable of removing from his expression to this day.
“My, my, Potter. I’d forgotten you have my portrait in your own house”
“Uh?” This snaps Harry from his own head and he throws Draco a confused look. He points to his corner of the tree and Potter’s eyes light up with mirth “What’s with the funny hat? You look like Robin Hood!”
“Excuse me? Do not!”
“Do too!”
“It was peak fashion for eight-year-olds at the time” Draco remembers having to sit still so the charms could capture his portrait. There’s something else he used to think about a lot back then when his mind was more filled with legends of grandeur than anything else, but he doesn’t know what makes him blurt it out.
“We’re probably cousins” he points to Dorothea, who married a Potter.
Harry just hums, as if he’d already known, had spent hours pouring over the embroidery as Draco himself has done “Ron too” he points to the charred image of Cedrella, burnt after she married a Weasley “Is there anyone from the pureblood families who is not inbred?”
Draco snorts “No, I don’t think so”
“ You’ve grown soft little Drake”
Draco exhales and looks morosely to the teacup he’s been trying to fill perfectly with flames for the past two hours, and every time, it spilled to the saucer without fail. Hyp just clicked his tongue up till now, but it seems that it finally became enough for him. He crawls up Draco’s arm that is resting on the table, leaning on his shoulder so he can stare straight at him.
“ You’re no longer a caged animal, but you’re turning into a lap cat,” he says with a little distaste.
“ And is there something wrong with that?” Draco snarls in frustration.
“ Dragons are not pets Drake. They’re egotistical, malicious beings, and for good reason! If your Potter doesn’t realize that soon you will hurt him, and if you want to avoid that you need to control your fire. Did you know that-”
“That dragons can create fiendfyre if they’re not careful? Yes! You told me a thousand times” Draco huffs in frustration “ What do you suggest we do then?”
Hyperion seems to consider this for a moment, before hissing carefully “ Maybe we’re focusing too much on the outside, perhaps you need a change of mind” he seems to come to a conclusion, and nods slightly to himself “ Is there anything your master prohibits you from doing?”
Draco furrows his brows, wondering where that came from until it clicks “ You want me to disobey him” he whispers in horror.
“ A wyrm obeys no one. Only itself”
Draco thinks he only has two ground rules, considering all of what Potter has said to him since he took him in: Draco must not call him sir, and he must not go up past his own floor. While one option means direct confrontation, he may be able to sneak around and do the other.
He peeked up once, halfway through the stairs. It was too dark to see anything beyond speckles of dirt, and so he came back down, afraid of Harry finding out even this little defiance.
Now Draco made it to the last step, and a dark landing yawns before him. Two doors are closed, but one is open to a pitch-black room, the kind that plays tricks to your mind, making you think that maybe you saw someone when there was nothing there. Maybe the movement of a dress, or the reflection of a hand. Beckoning you in.
Draco blinks, and takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He takes a step forward, and notices that it left a footprint in the cake of dust gathered on the floor. Suddenly a memory comes to his mind, unbidden.
When he was a child, mother would tell the story of La Barbe-Bleue.
A tragically sad nobleman has had terrible luck in love. Six times he married, but all his loved ones would leave him, one after another. One day, the neighbor’s daughter, smitten, agreed to be the next to marry him. She was loved and treated with care, able to do whatever she wished, but for this one thing: enter into her husband’s study. She tried to avoid it at all costs, but still, the question of what lies inside it plagued her mind. When her husband was away, she snatched the manor’s keys and quietly turned the door that would seal her fate. The floor was covered in blood, and the corpses of the six women were hung out to dry. She wanted to scream, shout, and hide, but before she could move, the door closes inbehind her, and she turns to see her husband with a knife in hand.
Draco runs down the stairs.
“ You must go in there again, little Drake”
“Why?” Draco’s eyes widen, he was just coming to report he had finally done the deed.
“ It doesn’t count if Potter isn’t in the house to find you out. That’s not a transgression, that’s cowardice”
“Auntie Burga? What’s on the third and fourth floors?”
“Why, darling? Haven’t you gone in there yourself?” her eyes narrow “Are you being kept from it?”
“No! No!” Draco quickly lies, trying to avoid unleashing her anger into Harry “Just haven’t quite managed to, I’m afraid”
She sniffs but relents “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were avoiding it. The state in which that- Harry Potter has left my house is deplorable!” Draco swiftly nods, hoping she’ll get to the point soon “If you go up you’ll see the master bedroom on the third floor, and my son Regulus’ on the fourth. Above it is the attic of course”
“And- Auntie, can you see what’s in them?”
She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but answers “I’m afraid not dear child, there are no portraits up there”
It’s a Saturday, Harry is bustling around in the kitchen and Draco has climbed that last step again. Somehow, the dark seems more oppressive than before but he is, if nothing else, determined. He opens every door, holding his breath before each one, but until now he hasn’t found anything worse than mold.
He finally gets into the attic and lets out a relieved sigh, there was nothing to worry about after all. He steps towards the window to peer outside when he hears a tiny crack.
Draco stops, trying to find where it came from, but there’s another crack, and another, and another. Before he knows it, Draco is falling, hands grasping nothing but air.