Daydreams | By : BitterWind Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 8997 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, settings, etc from those books or movies. I do this as a creative writing exercise and do not earn any money from writing this fictional story. |
Chapter One
“What does it do?” Malfoy sneered slightly as he held the small green bottle to the candlelight, tipping it slightly to see the dark liquid inside move. It was viscous, moving slowly, coating the side of the bottle.
“Respect.” The one word, spoken softly into the darkness was enough to stiffen Draco’s spine, to freeze his limbs.
“Sorry, Father.” He spoke slowly, placing the bottle carefully back on the large black desk. His father stood, pale face and hair, with his back to him, fingering the curtains covering the wide window. Seeing Lucius in this office, only six months after the last battle, seeing his father appropriating the space once dominated by Severus Snape, seemed wrong to Malfoy. Almost a sin really.
Which he supposed, made sense. Shock and dismay had been the emotions felt all round by the wizarding community when Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, announced that the rebuilt school would once again teach young witches and wizards, with an additional teacher.
Lucius Malfoy would be the Potions professor.
There had been no explanations, no hand holding with worried parents. When the last brick and mortar were placed, and classes resumed, Professor Malfoy took up residence and began to teach. Students slipped down to the dungeons, mixed ingredients, whispered spells, all under the silent, baleful eye of a former Death Eater. While no one dared linger after class to ask questions or for additional instructions, the whispered rumors were that, despite almost killing them all, the silver haired man was actually a fair teacher.
Draco’s mother of course, had given him a choice. He could have returned to Malfoy Manor, lead an indolent if lonely life, a wealthy pariah. But the thought of walking those long halls, sitting at that table where such terrible events had occurred...no, even with it’s own set of mistakes and horrors, this school was still the only place Draco could see himself.
At least for now.
His father continued, his back still to his son. His voice was measured and cold as ice. “It is quite rare. It’s taken me several months to accomplish. It was begun...before, do you understand?”
He turned, icy blue eyes meeting those of the tall young man standing before the desk.
“Yes, father. So...this potion is something He requested you make?” Draco’s felt the large pit in his stomach, a gnawing that never quite went away, begin to ache and burn at the newly instilled fear that everything was starting again, that again he would confront…
“No,” his father turned back to the curtain, separating it slightly to peer out into the night. “No, this was something I made for myself, to help me as I worked in the Ministry, alongside those buffoons.”
The knot in his stomach relaxed. A little.
“It’s not exactly...well...let’s say that it’s not something found in any student approved coursework.” His father smirked.
“What does it do?” Draco was done with this conversation. These days, he tried to stay as far away from his father as possible. His life had been shattered, he had almost died, had almost caused the death of many, many people. The last thing he needed was to wait upon his father again. He was done with those lessons. He wanted to move on. To what, he did not know, but at least away from this tall, cold specter.
His father’s voice was quiet. “One drop allows you to see the thoughts, the daydreams, the wishes of the chosen person. And what could one do with that knowledge, do you suppose? Why … just about anything.”
“No.”
“No?” His father slipped from behind the desk to stand by his son. He bent to hiss in his son’s ears, bent only a little, for now Draco, at nineteen, matched his father’s height.
“Do you want to remain here, at Hogwarts? Do you wish to be accepted by the teachers, the students, the parents...the world? Or do you wish to be crucified for the rest of your life?”
He stood and went back, sitting at the desk and opening a book.
“Metaphorically, of course.” His fingers waved Draco away. “Do as you wish. Take it or not. It was merely a thought. To know them better, to enable you to live amongst them.”
Draco stood, the candlelight flickering, shining on the glass bottle.
When the door closed, and Lucius looked up from his book, the potion was gone.
He smiled.
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