Chapter Text
Two Years Later
It was a beautiful spring day. There had been a break in the clouds and for once the sun was shining brightly. Draco sat at the edge of the crowd, his seat deliberately out of the way. His presence was allowed on sufferance of the bride, and he had no intention of screwing that up. If it meant he had to stay in a corner and not say a word that was exactly what he would do.
Hermione was on the other side of the room congratulating Astoria, where she stood dressed all in white. From where he was sitting, he could see the two women embracing, both with tears in their eyes. He was glad their friendship had not suffered from the divorce. The guilt still plagued him daily and he would do anything to alleviate it.
“Women are weird,” came a dryly, sardonic voice from behind his left shoulder.
He twisted and found himself staring up at the groom, Blaise Zabini. Blaise had been a complete gentleman during the entire messy affair - an ear for Astoria to cry on, available anytime she needed him. His actions and words had been beyond approach.
Of course, he was also there when Astoria felt ready to move on, waiting with open arms, as he had been for years.
Draco hadn’t been surprised. Now that he was looking on in hindsight, it was so obvious Blaise held an unrequited crush on the woman. All the acerbic criticisms about his actions, from the heated glances whilst drunk in the Slytherin common room, to the pained way he used to watch her.
They had crashed together like something inevitable, and Draco had never seen either of them happier.
Draco raised his whiskey glass so that Blaise could clink his own against it. “Never a truer word has been spoken.”
Blaise huffed and dropped down into the chair next to him. He dragged a tired hand down his face as he slumped backwards.
“Weddings are fucking exhausting,” he complained.
Draco laughed as he remembered his own wedding to Astoria. It was torture. He had worn a fake smile the entire day. By the end of it, his cheeks hurt from the strain and his arms ached from shaking hands. It was plainly obvious that this day had been wildly different for Blaise.
“Still the best day of your life though?” he asked his enigmatic friend.
Blaise gave him the widest smile he had ever seen. “You’re Goddamn right it is.”
“I’m happy for you. I really am,” Draco said softly.
“And I’m happy you finally pulled your head out of your arse and divorced her,” Blaise quipped before he downed the rest of his whiskey and got up. He was giving Astoria a truly hungry look, like a man starving who had just been given a feast. Without turning he said, “I am going to go dance with my wife. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
With that he sauntered over the room to sweep Astoria off her feet. She squealed as he lifted her high into the air and carried her onto the dance floor. As he lowered her gently, she squirmed until he pulled her into a deep kiss, and she melted into him.
Draco let his gaze wonder over to where Hermione stood, watching the happy couple. She looked stunning. Her hair was gathered at the back of her head where it fell in a silken wave down her back. The dress was a deep red that complimented her tan skin and flowed over her curves, leaving very little to the imagination. There wasn’t a man there who hadn’t at least given her a second look.
Draco stared unabashedly.
When she caught his gaze, a smile tugged at her mouth, and she sauntered over to him. He spread his legs so she could step in between them, grabbing his chin while lowering her head.
“What are you looking at?”
“The sexiest witch I’ve ever seen,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out how to restrain myself.”
She squeezed his chin, digging her nails in ever so slightly. “Down boy. If you’re good, I’ll do that for you later.”
He shivered. Fuck. This witch never hesitated to turn him on. He stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned her head back so that his kisses landed on her neck. Gods, he wanted to lay her down on this table and eat her out until she screamed. Only she would never allow that. Maybe if he was very good, she’d sit down and let him hide under the table whilst he buried himself in the taste of her.
She pulled away to take the seat next to him and he cursed inwardly. Crossing his legs, he hoped that no one noticed how hopelessly hard he was. Hermione placed her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, watching their friends and family enjoy themselves. Following her gaze he found Harry dancing with his mother.
“What are you going to do when they release Lucius?” she said, a deep frown marring her face.
He reached for her hand, rubbing the knuckles with his thumb. “We’ll leave.”
Her head twisted to look at him so quickly he wouldn’t be surprised if she had whiplash. “What!?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care about the money and neither does my mother. Both of us would rather be happy than have all that gold.”
Hermione seemed lost for words, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He smiled. It was a rare occasion that Hermione Granger could be rendered speechless. With an outstretched hand he stood and tilted his head towards the dance floor.
It took an entire song before she managed to speak again. “Where will you go?”
He tilted his head and truly pondered the question. The last two years had been a whirlwind. After Lucius’s incarceration Draco hadn’t really known what to do with himself. For the first time ever, no one was expecting him to do or be anything. He had complete freedom to do whatever he wanted.
However, instead of feeling happy he’d been terrified.
It had taken a long time to overcome the feeling that there was something he was supposed to be doing. Some hidden task somewhere deep in his subconscious he’d forgotten. He was like a bird kept in a cage so long it had forgotten how to fly.
Luckily for him, Hermione needed him. She had become his task and he devoted himself to it wholeheartedly. Varek had done a number on her and Draco refused to let that bastard ruin their lives. It didn’t matter that this version of him had not committed the countless monstrosities that his counterparts had. In his opinion there was overwhelming evidence to suggest that he would do it again.
Draco wouldn’t allow that to happen.
She was staring at him with her wide eyes full of fear. He reached out his other hand and caressed her cheek. “I was hoping you would be amenable to taking in a stray?”
Her breath caught, eyebrows soaring into her hairline. “Yes!” she choked out. “Yes. Of course. I never imagined you would want to – I thought – I would love that.”
He pulled her into his arms even more firmly and kissed her so deeply he wasn’t sure where he ended and she started. There were a few catcalls from nearby and Draco really should care more about making a scene at his ex wife’s wedding but he didn’t. Hermione was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of, and she had just granted his most ardent wish.
When they broke apart panting, he gave her his biggest smile. “When can I move in?”
Draco had been watching Hermione potter around the kitchen, aimlessly, for the last two hours. They’d invited Harry and Narcissa over for dinner and even though the food was prepped immaculately, she continued to check the chicken every five minutes and redo the napkins every ten.
“My mother loves you,” Draco murmured as he came in behind her and kissed her neck.
She pulled at the napkin she had been trying to fold, until the delicate swan fell apart completely. Turning within the circle of his arms she reached up to place a kiss on the end of his nose.
“I know that,” she said irritably. “It’s really got more to do with my own sense of accomplishment than how they feel about it.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Of course.”
She gave him a withering look. “You could help. It’s probably about time we put the potatoes on to par boil.”
She turned away and was busy with the napkins again as he turned toward the pantry. “What exactly does par boil mean?”
Her scoff echoed throughout the room as he fished the potatoes out and placed them on the bench. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve done this before loads of times.”
He froze with his hand in the drawer, hovering over the peeler. This happened sometimes. She got confused. He’d grown up in a mansion and had never cooked a day in his life before moving in with Hermione. Sometimes memories got mixed up in her head. It was best not to bring attention to it. It didn’t lead to a breakdown every time but if he wasn’t careful, it might take her somewhere dark he couldn’t pull her out of.
With a gentleness he didn’t feel, he lied softly. “Can you show me how you do it? Yours always turn out so much better than mine.”
She turned and gave him a sceptical look before stalking toward him. “Oh really,” she teased, “and you have no ulterior motive at all?”
With relief he wrapped an arm around her back and kissed her neck. “Yep. I only want the best for my mother and her ever so annoying boyfriend.”
She slapped him on the shoulder, and he took the opportunity to pinch her arse. With a gasped of surprise and admonition she exclaimed, “You like Harry!”
It was true. One of the most astonishing things to come from all this was how much he enjoyed the company of the saviour of the wizarding world. It made him wonder how his life would have been different if he hadn’t been such an arsehole that day in Madam Malkins. The truth was he’d been in a terrible mood and wanted to show off in front of the boy. If that day had gone a little differently, he probably would have tried to talk his ear off excitedly about Quidditch, a sport they both loved dearly.
He shook his head to try and rid himself of the ghosts of the past. Of course, now he knew that thinking about changing the past was a pointless and potentially dangerous endeavour.
When Harry and Narcissa arrived through the floo, Harry shook his hand and gave him a bottle of merlot that looked like it actually came from the Malfoy cellars. Narcissa hugged Hermione enthusiastically, who accepted it with a blush, her hands stiff as she tried to pet her on the back.
“Potter, did you just gift me my own wine?” Draco asked with an imperiously raised eyebrow.
Narcissa sniffed at him. “Technically it’s my wine. Those are some of the stores that I claimed in the divorce.”
“You asked for the wine!” he exclaimed.
She shrugged. “Well, I’m certainly going to get more use out of that, than I would the mouldy old relics kept down in the vaults.”
“True,” he conceded before clapping his hands together. “If you’ll both come this way. Hermione has been driving me balmy as we cooked this meal and she’ll murder me if we get to chatting and it burns.”
Hermione barked out a laugh. “We’ve still got about half an hour. Really Draco, it’s like you’ve forgotten everything out of nowhere.”
He laughed as well even though there was a chill of fear coursing through his stomach.
Later when they finished eating and Harry and Hermione were reminiscing loudly on the other side of the table, he poured his mother another glass of wine.
“How are you?”
“Hmm?” she hummed, taking a sip. “I –” a blush spread across her cheeks – “I’m good. He’s wonderful Draco. He helped Blanche and I wrangle her Abraxan’s this week. Your father…”
She trailed off. That was the limit. He had always known there was something wrong with his parent’s relationship. On the surface it had been idyllic. His father always had eyes on his mother and his mother was always looking to his father. It wasn’t until he was much older that he noticed the strain in her eyes and the subtle pauses before she answered a question.
“It’s alright.” He leaned forward and grasped her hand. “You deserve to be happy.”
She lifted her head, and he could see her blink away tears. When she had control of her emotions again, she said in a watery voice. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
The grass crunched underneath his feet as Draco walked toward the well. It looked even more desiccated than it had the last time he’d been here. The stones had started to crumble, making the opening at the top more of an oblong than an oval. Vines grew all around it in a chaotic mess that probably contributed to the decay.
Draco didn’t care. This place could rot.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice called out from nearby. “Come for your monthly visit, have we?”
Draco turned to see Tom leaning against a nearby tree. He looked exactly the same as always, impeccably dressed, with a smirk plastered on his face. The estate around them looked even worse in comparison.
Draco snarled. “Is it so fucking hard to stay in your goddamn lamp? Or do you just enjoy communing with the forest? Do you have a cute little bunny friend now?”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “For your information I’ve always got along quite well with animals.” His voice lowered. “Especially snakes.”
Draco looked around himself in alarm as Tom laughed. Bristling Draco huffed and turned to leave only to find Varek directly in front of him.
“Don’t go,” he said plaintively. “I get ever so lonely these days. How is Hermione?” He lowered his head until he was staring at him from underneath his brows. “Has she remembered me yet?”
Draco shivered. “How did you know?”
“So, I was right,” he hissed. “You did obliviate her.”
Draco pushed him back. “Of course I did. You were destroying her. Eating her from the inside as she tried to make sure you got a third chance.”
Tom’s eyes flickered. “You have to realise that the wishes are more powerful than your magic. One day she’ll remember, and you know what will happen.”
“No,” Draco objected as he stumbled backwards.
Tom’s eyes flashed red. “She’ll come for me.”
Those two points of red were the last thing Draco saw as he apparated away.
Eustace was bored. There was nothing to do at his aunt’s summer house except roam the large forest just past her back gate. They all warned him not to go in there, but he had been ignoring them for days and was completely fine. The worst injury he’d received was a splinter. The stubborn piece of wood burrowing under his skin.
Everyone in town had a story about the wood. Some said it was haunted and that the screams of the dead could be heard on clear nights. Some said a beast roamed its depths, waiting for a fool to come inside so that it could satiate itself. Some said it was full of witches who kidnapped young people and made them into stew.
All of that seemed preposterous. Everybody knew that ghosts couldn’t hurt you. He’d watched a show on the telly about it. They had all sorts of fancy equipment and went into the most haunted house in Britain. Beasts were no less likely. Jenna Carmical in the year above told him that beasts weren’t real, like the tooth fairy and Santa Claus.
The witches could be real. He’d read a history book about it once, though it did say the majority of the witches the government found were poor young women with not a lot of options. That didn’t sound scary at all. Besides, eleven was hardly considered young. He’d received a strange letter the other day that had talked about a very special school.
He hadn’t been particularly enthused about going to boarding school but he supposed if it was special, it might be alright.
He’d made his way much further into the forest than ever before. When he looked behind him all he could see was trees. But the air was calm, and the sounds of the forest were pleasant, so he kept walking.
Eventually he came to the ruin of a gigantic castle. His mouth dropped open as he gawped at the magnificent structure. Two of the towers had fallen down so there was only one still resolutely touching the sky.
“Woah,” he murmured in awe.
“It is pretty spectacular isn’t it,” a wry voice came from behind him.
Eustace turned to find a handsome man with black hair and dark eyes standing near the tree line. Despite his appearance he looked completely at home in the decaying ruins.
“Who are you?”
The man sauntered towards him. “I,” he intoned dramatically, “am a genie and if you are very lucky, I can help you obtain your wildest dreams.”
Eustace scoffed. “Come off it. That’s nonsense that is. Just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean I believe in fairy stories.”
The mans face lit up with delight. “You don’t believe in magic?”
Eustace crossed his arms and frowned. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The man laughed and spread his arms wide before dramatically floating into the air. Eustance’s mouth dropped open as he watched him circle the clearing. When the man landed, he promptly turned into a snake and back within the blink of an eye.
Eustace walked forward excitedly. “You can do magic! Can you turn my cousin Antony into a toad? He’s a right tosser.”
The man tilted his head. “With ease. However, I cannot do anything for you unless you have my lamp.”
“The whole lamp thing is real?” Eustace asked as he followed the man down an overgrown path.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he drawled. “Here we are.”
The man had led him to a dilapidated old well. The stones were crumbling in on itself and vines clogged every available surface. Eustace stepped forward and peered down into the inky blackness. He couldn’t see the bottom. It was like a portal into the abyss.
“Your lamp is down there?”
The man sighed, “Yes. It was thrown down there by a dickhead.”
“Just like my cousin Antony,” Eustace commiserated before hesitating. “If you think I’m going down there, you’re mad.”
The man shrugged. “No pain. No gain. You can’t get access to almighty cosmic power without risking a little something.”
Eustace looked down the hole again. Maybe if he had a rope or a ladder or something. If his mum found out he was even considering this she’d be livid.
He grinned at the man. “I’ll be right back.”
The boy ran off into the trees leaving the man staring after him, a sinister smile curling around his face.
“Excellent.”
