Chapter Text
When Draco decides that he will come back to Hogwarts to finish his seventh year, he's already talked himself into every possible scenario he will encounter.
Hate, hexes, curses, sabotage, attacks, he knows he will have to face those things, consequences of his wrongdoings before and during the war. It doesn't matter that Harry Potter fought tooth and nail to keep him and his mother away from Azkaban, no one cares that Potter made a very public resolution with Narcissa Malfoy.
A dark mark is a dark mark. Once a death eater, always a death eater. Only Severus Snape and Regulus Black are the ones who were hailed as heroes for the sacrifices they did in the war.
It doesn't matter that Draco lied in his aunt’s face, or that he let Potter steal his wand leaving him using another one that could have him killed as it wasn't very fond of his magic core, it doesn't matter that they have life debts to each other, both fulfilled.
None of those matters.
Draco will be alone this year and he needs to toughen himself if he wants to survive another war, though this one is more personal.
He knows his friends won't bother mingling with him, even Pansy returned his letter. Theo sent a letter once, which made Draco hoped, but the content was full of pleading not to tarnish their already dirty family with his much dirtier name.
Blaise doesn't bother. He didn't reply to any of his letters. Didn't even sent a dismissal. Just pure avoidance.
The Greengrass family still wants to continue with the betrothal between Draco and their daughter, Astoria. But Draco is not a heartless bastard. He won't let an innocent girl be dragged with his name, hence the cancellation of the said betrothal. He can tell that Daphne is relieved that he volunteered first.
Draco knows they're going back to Hogwarts. And despite that, he knows he'll be alone.
He prefers that, really.
He just hopes it won't hurt him that much. Slytherins stick together, but Slytherins also value family more than anything. And right now, preventing association with the Malfoys is as good as protecting families.
Draco won't blame them. He himself doesn't want to be associated with his family name. But he's had enough of hurting his mother, who he knows will cry herself to death if he begs to taker her maiden family name, Black.
It doesn't stop Draco from seeing himself as a Black as well as a Malfoy. He used to be about being a Malfoy, but now he's learning to embrace both of his heritage.
And Blacks are deranged, unhinged people. Disgrace of the family and take pride in it. The only pureblood family that basks in the glory of shame, and still be accepted as the most noble family of Magical history.
So Draco embraces that madness, and declared that he will go back to Hogwarts to finish his Newts. Narcissa called him insane. But Draco doesn't care. He's going to be brave, for once.
This time, he's going to do things all for himself.
~~~
“You crush the leaves by squeezing them. Sliced leaves won't work.”
Longbottom scratches his sideburn and gives Draco a sheepish look. “Luna said the same.”
“Then she's right,” Draco replies. He turns around and sees Luna busying herself with harvesting oregano leaves. He huffs and calls her out. “Don't squeeze the stems! The leaves will die!”
“We're going to use them, anyway,” comes Ginevra’s reply.
Draco doesn't respond. He just leaves them to return to Longbottom's poor attempt of extracting the essence of the leaves.
Knowing that Longbottom will fail anyway even with Draco's help, considering that he doesn't follow him –what a Gryffindor stubbornness that Draco can't find himself to be offended–, he waves the group goodbye. He needs to finish his potion essay, anyway.
While walking to the library, Draco ponders.
He expected a very violent school year. Being ostracized, attacked, all worse case scenarios.
There are hexes, sure. Fibble attempts of fights. But Draco can easily dodge and avoid them. When he feels extra guilty on some days, he would let himself be hexed and just let it be.
All things considered, Draco is surprised to say that he's expected much worse.
But since the term started three weeks ago, all he's got are glares and hexes. Snickers are taunting words. People usually avoid him too, which is fine. There's not much physical assault yet.
That also means even the Slytherins avoid him like a plague.
And because of that, Draco avoids them too, just to be petty. Though a big part of it is his pride.
Maybe that's why Luna asked for his help to develop cough drops with cheaper and easy-access-ingridients like oregano leaves.
Draco won't complain about it, though. It's quite good. He realizes that surrounding himself with people who actually want to hang out with him is way better than forcing his place like an unfit puzzle piece, like he used to do. Now, he doesn't have to worry that much.
One of the things he likes the most is potions class. Sure, Slughorn may be sort of a suck up to Potter and his lots, but there are days when Slughorn is under the weather –he's mentioned once that his magical core has been depleting since the war, and Draco understands since he witnessed the poor old man chaperoning a hoard of Slytherins from first years to seventh and produced a patronus one after another until he passed out– which means someone else would teach the class.
That's when Severus The Portrait comes into the class with his familiar sneer and degrading words.
For some reason, Potter seems excited whenever Severus The Portrait teaches the class. Which happens to be a regular Monday and Wednesday schedule.
Today is Wednesday, which means Slughorn will be on St. Mungo’s and Severus The Portrait will be the one to assist.
He has half an hour before the class, which he originally planned to spend with Longbottom and Luna, but Ginevra showed up and honestly, he still doesn't know what to feel about her.
The first time she saw him with Longbottom inside the greenhouse, she faltered and glared at him, until Luna ran past her and jumped on Draco's arms, greeting him with her usual dreamy voice.
And then, she hesitated, but seemed to think highly of Luna and deem him deserving of her attention if Luna thought of him alright.
Today was the third time Draco spent time with Ginevra at the greenhouse, though only through mutual friendships with Longbottom and Luna. They resorted with nods and complete avoidance of each other's presence.
Draco prefers that than anger, he supposes. He's too tired of anger and fight. He wants a peaceful school year, for once.
Having spare time to himself, Draco decides to go to the kitchen and steal some fruit cookies.
Students walk around in pairs or groups in the hallway, very much different from Draco's lonesome self. Again, he doesn't care that much at all.
When he reaches the kitchen, he sees a couple of elves walking out of the door, carrying chalices and trays.
He smiles at them. “Hi! Are there any left fruit cookies? I'm in desperate need of snacks.”
One of the elves beams at him. “Master Draco, sir! Yes, there are fruit cookies left from today's morning breakfast! We are going to prepare the fruit cookies for Master, sir!”
Draco nods. “That would be lovely. What's your name, anyway?”
The elf’s eyes widen, if that's even possible. “Me is be called Dancy, Master Draco, sir!”
“You got a cute name. It suits you.”
Dancy flushes and grips her ears close to her face. “Dancy is be thanking Master Draco, sir.”
Then, Dancy bustles inside the kitchen and Draco waits patiently outside. He understands that after the war, the kitchen is to be left alone for the elves to fix. The war didn't really reach the kitchen, but too many stray magics have affected the castle itself and the kitchen was affected by them.
The elves fixed them, but they don't feel as comfortable as before accepting guests. Draco thinks the elves see the kitchen as their sanctuary. The least they could do is leave them alone.
Dancy comes out with a paper bag of pastries. Judging by the scent of chocolate, Dancy must have put chocolate muffins too.
Draco thanks the elf and leaves as fast as he can, not wanting to agitate the other elves.
Twenty or so more minutes before potions, Draco goes to the dungeon munching on cookies.
Hm. This one’s dried cherry flavor.
He's just turned a corner, a hallway away from the dungeon, when he sees Potter and Weasley walking. Probably decide to come to the class earlier than others.
Weasley frowns at him, which is better than the first day when he got a sneer and a mumbled ‘Death Eater bastard’. He doesn't know what changed. But he's secretly thankful whatever happened for Weasley to stop antagonizing him.
Potter is somewhat different. He nods at Draco, then looks at the bag of pastries then sends him an amused confusion.
Draco clears his throat then offers the bag to the two gryffindors, now the three of them walking to the dungeon.
“Dancy gave too much snacks,” Draco offers as an explanation.
“Dancy?” Potter asks while Weasley doesn't even say any word, he just snatches the bag then pulls out a chocolate muffin.
Weasley is about to take more, probably Draco's fruit cookies, so Draco snatches the bag again then gives Weasley a disdainful look. “You got your muffin, Merlin, Weasley! Greed doesn't look good on you.”
Weasley huffs and inhales the muffin in two bites. Draco is impressed.
“Alright, Malfoy. Give me one more cookie and I'll forgive you for punching me in fifth year.”
“I don't remember punching you in fifth year.”
“You did. At quidditch pitch.”
“I'm pretty sure that's me and George,” Potter interjects. “You can just bargain for… For… Inquisitor Squad stuff?”
Weasley perks up. “Oh yeah, then I'll forgive you for docking points from me. And another cookie then I'll forgive you for that song Parkinson did in sixth year.”
Draco thinks he's being toyed by the universe. Here is Weasley offering forgiveness in exchange for cookies. Did he somehow hit his head during the war and forgot that they were detained under Draco's manor at the cellar? That Granger was tortured in his house? And that his brother died in a war that really started when Draco let the death eaters trespass inside?
Weasley seem to see his hesitation, and the reason behind it, for he glares at Draco.
“Look, I'm trying to be civil here and offering you a branch or something. Truthfully I want to hex you enough to send you to St. Mungo’s. But I'm tired from the war. My brother died and George might as well be. But I'm willing to take off some guilt off of your shoulder by bargaining forgiveness. So just give me two cookies and accept that you're forgiven at least for two mistakes you've made in the past.”
Draco's thankful that there are no students in the hallway, considering how personal Weasley’s words are. The playful banter is gone, replaced by maturity and repressed frustration that marred his face.
In all honesty, Draco finds himself more impressed. Weasley managed to resist hexing him. And maybe, this will be good, even if Draco thinks he deserves at least a punch and a kick to his crotch.
Silently, he takes three cookies from the bag, leaving three cookies more. Then he hands the bag to Weasley.
“Add the one time my father almost killed your sister, won't you? I'm not my father. But I still think he's evil for doing that.”
“I'm pretty sure he's not aware that the diary will do that,” Potter butts in again. “But thanks for the apology cookie.”
“You're not Weasley,” Draco deadpans.
Still munching, Weasley shrugs. “Well, he's with my sister. And I forgive you for three mistakes.”
“Another one for the bag.”
Weasley and Potter look at Draco's bare hand holding three cookies. Then both of them grin at Draco.
“You're one sleek git, Malfoy,” Weasley says. “Then I forgive you for selling us out to Filch and McGonagall. First year, remember?”
Draco nods then looks away. Weasley looks too happy eating cookies without a beverage. Draco winces at that.
His eyes stray and turn to Potter, who is staring at him.
Without much reluctance this time, Draco offers a cookie.
Potter tries to hide a smile. “What's this for, then?”
Draco gulps. This is a crucial territory. But he has to. If he really wants to accept his mother's blood as equal to Malfoy, he has to.
“I would apologize for what happened to Edward, but his parents sacrificed themselves so he can have a better future. I can't apologize for that.” Gulping, Draco looks down at his shoes, not really having the bravery to look at Potter. “It's for Sirius.”
Potter stares at the cookie. His face is devoid of any expression. He just stares.
Then, he takes it, and speaks.
“Do you even know Sirius?” Potter asks while biting on the cookie. Crumbs are left on the corner of his lips, but Draco doesn't say anything. Crumbs on lips are the best part of eating them, anyway.
“I don't know if it counts, but Mother has portraits of Sirius and Regulus in our house.”
Potter looks at him in shock. Eyes wide and bitten cookie forgotten.
“You have a portrait of Sirius?”
“My mother has,” Draco corrects. “I believe that she knew Sirius would be disowned by the family, and that Regulus would die before he reached twenty. She wanted portraits of them that would physically grow according to their age, even after death. Spent thousands of galleons for the portrait charm but… She thinks it's worth it.”
When Potter only stares at him, Draco looks away to avoid seeing more of his green eyes. Then he adds, “they age well. But the charm will stop at age fifty. When they reach fifty, the charm will stop. They'll be forever fifty, then. Right now, he's thirty nine–”
“Thirty eight,” Potter corrects. “He'll be thirty nine in November.”
Draco blinks. “Oh. I see.”
Before the conversation continues, students start to fill the hallway. Draco thinks this is his cue to stay away from Potter and Weasley. It won't be good for them if others see them talking comfortably with the death eater.
Draco, as subtle as he can, pulls away with a timid smile. Weasley nods, chocolate sauce on his lips. And Potter stares at him, following his movement as he leans on the wall, away from the others.
He closes his eyes, thinking of the crumbs left on Potter's mouth.
~~~
Severus The Portrait was thorough with his instructions. He doesn't want any of the students to use the anti-pregnancy potions because he doesn't trust anyone –even Draco– to ever make the most accurate one. Instead, he told the students to learn how to dissect the components of the potions. How is that even possible, he just sneered and told everyone to find out, because it's common sense.
If no one knows how to dissect components from a finished potion then I don't seem any of you deserving of my qualifying mark.
Draco saw Granger gritting her teeth, but not mad at Severus The Portrait. She looks more stressed regarding the process of dissecting the potions, and probably thinking how to.
Of course, Draco knows how to. All on his own, too. He's spent hours and hours finding a way to dissect the components that Severus The Portrait would find acceptable.
But he's not going to tell anyone. It's his time to show that he's really capable once there's no one pressuring him to do something he doesn't desire.
Slughorn will be accompanying Severus The Portrait to check the final assessment of the project, which will be on Monday. Draco is determined to have an outstanding mark.
Saturday night when he sees Granger at the library, looking frazzled and agitated. When she sees Draco, she only looks at him before she returns to her books.
Draco thinks that's more than he expected, so he just shrugs it off and starts to walk to his favorite spot. He's about to turn behind a shelf when Granger speaks.
“How's your anti-pregnancy potions going?”
Draco blinks at her. She's not looking at him, her eyes are trained on the open book.
“Good,” Draco replies. “It's in progress. It'll be done by Sunday evening morning, if my calculation is right.”
Granger perks up. “Calculation?! Of what?! Why do you have to calculate?! No, don't tell me!”
She stands up and picks up her books, leaving in a hurry.
Draco just watch her until she's gone
When Monday comes, Draco can barely eat. The eighth year table is in a frenzy, talking about the potions and the lack of supply. Apparently a lot of them made too many mistakes that they had to collect another batch to experiment. The last vial goes to Weasley, who said he just wants to drink it so he can't have children for the next five years.
Granger at least looks okay, though there's furrow on her brows. Her eyes roam around the table and fall onto him, and her frown deepens.
“Malfoy, how's your potions going?”
At the question, even Weasley and Potter turn to look at him.
Feeling a flush on his cheeks, ignoring Daphne's and Blaise’s looks, he shrugs. “It was done when I checked last night. I submitted my essay and finished work to Professor Slughorn this morning.”
“This morning? The hell, it's barely eight in the morning! What time did you submit your work?”
“Around five.”
“You're mental,” Weasley rasps.
Draco smiles to himself. Him? Mental? Very fortunate.
“Probably the Black Madness is manifesting,” he says before he can stop himself.
For a moment, he's scared he offended people. Bellatrix killed Sirius Black, and tortured the Longbottoms to madness. Joking about going off the rails must have been very insensitive.
He's about to apologize when Potter barks a laugh. “Yeah, I think your Black side is showing. I'm praying for my godson.”
“Edward’s great,” Draco huffs. “He's the epitome of a real Black wizard. I bet he'll inherit Dora’s metamorphogus. We Blacks are gifted with particular magics, you see. My Mother has a knack for dark artifacts. My aunt, the sane one, is very good at transfiguration. Regulus had an affinity with creatures, which is why he was very keen on elves. Sirius is Sirius.”
Potter grins at the last notion.
Feeling like he's said too much, Draco goes back to eating his breakfast. When he hears Potter talking to other students, he sighs in relief, now that Potter's attention isn't on him. When he looks up, he sees Pansy looking back at him. Theo and Blaise are whispering to each other. When they look at Draco and catch him looking at them, he looks away.
All of them, except Draco, can be friends all they want.
Draco has more pressing matters to think about. He has to prioritize his Newts and studies. Friendships with people who would abandon him in dark times won't help him secure a good life.
It's all on his own.
Time passes. Draco attends transfiguration class and ancient runes. After that, there's half an hour break before potions class starts.
Draco is already puffing his chest when he enters the potions room with his classmates, looking at the row of submitted works on the counter. Severus The Portrait is already stationed at the front and Slughorn's sifting through the shaft of parchment in his hands.
“Ah, good afternoon, class.”
Everyone greets Slughorn, who smiles at them.
“I'm very glad that everyone submitted all their projects in time. Though some of you did poor job on them, I am pleased to see that everyone is taking the project seriously. Considering that the potion is invested by Potion Master Severus Snape himself and no one has ever thoroughly studied the potions, the fact that everyone tried and thought of conclusions should be enough. I am proud of you all.”
Slughorn slaps the shaft of parchment on his hand then grins. “Now, let's see who dissected the potion the best. Let's start with Mr. Zabini.”
Draco sighs and listens as Slughorn reads Blaise's essay, the professor humming at lines that Blaise clarifies and explains.
“So you filtered the potion and studied the filtered components left on the cloth,” Slughorn murmurs, sounding impressed. “That's pretty impressive.” Then he turns to Severus The Portrait. “What do you say, Professor Snape?”
Severus The Portrait purses his lips then looks down at Slughorn through his hooked nose. “Very simple. Will do very little to dissect the components. Not quite right but also not wrong. It's acceptable.”
Blaise frowns and obviously doesn't like the assessment, but he also has manners so he just bows and thanks the professors.
Slughorn beams at the class. “Next. Granger.”
Granger straighten up and walks to the front of the class facing Slughorn. The professor summons Granger's work to the middle of the counter.
“Hm. You used condensation, am I correct?”
Granger nods. “I boiled the potion, since we won't need or consume them. I put a lid on the cauldron and kept the residue on the edge of the lid and collected them until they dried. I dissected the components by using magnifying charms.”
Slughorn hums happily. “Very well, very well! I can see how that works! Very brilliant thinking, Miss Granger!”
Granger beams at the professors. Slughorn then turns to Severus The Portrait, who is sneering at Granger's worksheet.
“Very impulsive and impatient way of approach”
Draco's brow twitches while Granger starts to frown. From the side, Weasley opens his mouth to start protesting but good thing Potter elbows his friend to stop him.
Severus The Portrait sniffs like he's smelling something foul. “Using magic to scrape residue will ruin the components. Scraping from the lid will also ruin the component, you absolutely scraped parts of the lid and mixed them with the components. Not to mention boiling a potion will ruin the cauldron. Boiling the potion would leave permanent ingredients on the small holes inside it. You can't use those cauldrons anymore. There's a reason why the peak warmth of a potion is simmering.”
Granger looks entirely chastised and about ready to cry. Draco feels so bad for her.
Still, Severus The Portrait gave her an Acceptable, because she still dissected the components.
Slughorn goes through half of the class before he calls Draco's name.
“Mister Malfoy.”
Draco straightens his shoulder and walks to the counter. Slughorn is reading his essay with a frown.
“You wrote a lot of process here, Mister Malfoy. A very long and interesting process.”
Draco smiles and almost jumps on the heels of his feet.
Slughorn then smiles at him. “Please explain the process of your dissection.”
Draco nods. “In muggle mining, they used the proccess called panning.”
“Oh Merlin, why didn't I think of that?!” Granger hisses from behind him.
Draco smiles wider.
“How did you come up with that? Did the Muggle Studies cover that?”
Draco shakes his head. “Potion Master Snape is a half-blood, and lived in the muggle world. I thought he would use muggle methods in potion making, like science and chemistry, is what muggles call it.”
He can feel Granger seething behind him.
Draco proceeds, “I noticed that the potion is thick but still has watery consistency, hence why I came to the conclusion that the components are not refined and powdered as I thought. As you can read in my essay, panning is a process of isolating components by density. Some components of the potion are heavier than others, like the crushed unicorn bones which are heavier and the persian lily stems that are lighter. Panning them would isolate one component from one another, with the heavier component –the crushed unicorn bones– acting as the sediments are left on the bottom while the lighter component would float above as they're heavier. Once the components are separated by panning, the liquid part of the potion is the only one left alone, which is a melted winter snow on two months' stasis charm and a dash of rose oil, which could be separated by setting the liquid parts on low and calculated temperature enough to solidify the oil from the water.”
Slughorn is staring at him, eyes wide and full of wonder.
“Indeed,” someone preens. Everyone looks at Severus The Portrait who is smirking down at Draco. “Well done, Draco. Looking for a muggle way of proceeding is such a clever thing. Not only you didn't ruin the components by using magic, you meticulously separated the components by hand with such patience. you also didn't eradicate the liquid part of the potion, which means you didn't focus on the solid mixture and thought of the potion as a whole, not just what you can filter from it. Very intelligent, Mister Malfoy.”
Slughorn barks a laugh then pats Draco's shoulder. “You know, you remind me of Severus. But sometimes, you think the way Lily did. Evans. Lily Evans. One of my most intelligent students. Always just behind Severus.”
The words were whispered, almost inaudible, but Draco heard the professor right.
Slughorn just compared him to his two of the most brilliant students in potions. Draco feels his chest tightening.
“This is an easy Outstanding, right, Professor Snape?”
Severus The Portrait hums. “Outstanding, indeed.”
When Draco goes back to his station, he's grinning madly to himself.
He feels so good, doing something so great in class.
He feels eyes staring at him, and when he looks up, he sees Potter looking at him. Blush paints Potter's face and looks away quickly.
Draco would usually frown at that, knowing that Potter is clearly thinking he's onto something. But he's so happy he can't think of anything else.
When the class ends, Slughorn returns the essays and Draco gapes at the huge Outstanding written on the top of his work.
“Very good essay and potion work, Mister Malfoy. I'm looking forward to the next class. I have high hopes and can't wait for your next work.”
High hopes. Slughorn has high hopes for him.
Still grinning, he's about to leave when Severus The Portrait clears his throat.
“Draco, can I talk to you? It's private.”
Draco frowns then looks at Slughorn, who just smiles at them.
“If Professor Slughorn allows it.”
Slughorn waves a hand with a wide grin. “You two can talk as much as you want. The successful project must have touched Severus’ heart and is now drowning in nostalgia.”
“Quite right, Horace,” Severus The Portrait drawls.
Slughorn leaves, closing the door with a wink.
Finally alone, Draco turns to Severus The Portrait.
“You have something to tell me,” Draco interrogates, not beating around the bush. “What is it?”
Severus The Portrait sighs.
“I heard that you're embracing more of your Black heritage than your family name.”
Draco arches a brow. “From who?”
“Portraits talk a lot,” Severus says. “As a former headmaster, I share walls with headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black. He boasted about a new heir of the Black family, and it's not Nymphadora Tonks’ son. He said Narcissa's son.”
“And how did he find out? Did he say anything?”
“From Sirius Black and Regulus Black’s portrait. And the tapestry of the Black family selected you as its heir.”
Draco purses his lips and stares at the wall. “I'm not changing my family name. I'm still a Malfoy by name.”
“But a Black at heart. I see.”
“No. I am both.”
Severus The Portrait stares at him, the painted eyes on the canvas looking almost eerie as it scrutinizes him.
“Do you know why I chose the anti-pregnancy potion as your project?”
Draco shakes his head. “No.”
Severus The Portrait sighs then looks away.
“Draco, you must keep at least a vial of it. I left enough of them. You will take one vial and keep it.”
Draco gulps. For some reason, he can't tell Severus The Portrait that there's no more vial of anti-pregnancy potion. The last of it was wasted on Weasley who didn't even dissect the potion right.
Not knowing what to say in case he end up complaining that it's Severus The Portrait’s fault for not telling him before the project, he just nods.
“Okay. I'll keep one.”
Draco thinks, if he can dissect the potion, he can certainly concoct one.