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Shiloe: Just the Two of Us	By : Sablesilverrain Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 11759 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Potterverse, or anything you recognize here. I make no money from this either, sadly. I'm terribly poor. -.-

Chapter List
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Draco frowned. “Father, you got a divorce from Mother, right? But why would you do that?” He asked.
Lucius sighed. “Your mother is too fond of the Dark Lord. She has refused to leave him. She will likely be after me for my desertion.”
Draco’s eyes widened. “You were…?”
Lucius sighed. “Yes, Draco. I was. It is something I no longer feel pride in, however.”
“Are you the reason Severus was?” Draco asked in a small voice.
“Another thing I am not proud of.” He confirmed.
Draco shook his head. “Would you have made me join, too?” He whispered.
Lucius closed his eyes in pain. “I’m not sure. I very well may have, if ordered to.” He said in a strained voice.
Draco backed up a few paces, a tear finally escaping as he shook his head in mute denial.
Blaise and Neville rushed over to comfort him.
Shiloe sighed. “Take him to Rowena’s rooms, please.” He told the two teens.
They nodded and began leading him away.
Draco passively let them steer him into the room. He climbed onto the bed and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as tears slid down his cheeks and he let out another soft sob.
Blaise got onto the bed and eased Draco’s legs out far enough to pull his shoes off. “Mi dispiace, il mio Drago. Sono qui per te se hai bisogno del mio aiuto.”*
Draco sniffled. “It’s not your fault, don’t call me that, and I can’t understand you when you do that.” The blond replied miserably, and Neville realized that Blaise had helped him through tough times before, as the black Italian just kicked his own shoes off, sat next to Draco, and clutched his own legs to his chest, offering silent support as Draco cried it out.
Neville removed his shoes and got onto the bed as well, and then wrapped his arms around Draco, not knowing what else to do.
“What are you doing?” Draco asked him, but his voice had lost its bite.
Neville sighed. “I’m doing the only thing I can think to do, so shut up and let me at least TRY to help. That’s not something you deserved to hear, and it couldn’t have been easy, nor could it have felt good to hear. I have to do something, alright?”
Draco sighed and relaxed into the hold. “Alright.” He said softly.
Blaise blinked in surprise, but stayed silent. This was a first. Draco had never accepted physical comfort from him, flinging him off violently on occasion, rather than accept an embrace.
He sniffed lightly, and noticed the scent of creature magic at work. He realized that Neville’s magic was… ‘Tasting’ Draco’s, having dismissed the already-mated Werewolf’s magic as incompatible.
He wondered what the teen would prove to be, thinking of inheritances that manifested at sixteen, as Shiloe had said Neville would. Both Atra Veritatis and Vorago manifested at fifteen, while Indago, Sinicae, Veela and most others manifested at a Wizard’s majority, seventeen.
Few manifested at sixteen, and Blaise couldn’t think of any off the top of his head.
“I really can’t believe that he was a Death Eater.” Draco whispered. “Severus had told me he was, when I saw his mark as a child, and he warned me never to join the Dark Lord if he ever returned. I never thought that my father was the reason-“ Draco stopped talking abruptly as another sob wracked his body, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks.
Blaise sighed. “Well, il mio Drago, I am here for you, and you also have our little leone, here, by the look of things.” He said, nodding toward Neville.
“I’m a what?” Neville asked.
“Lion.” Draco answered with a hint of amusement. “Bloody Gryffindor.” He teased playfully.
Blaise laid down on the bed, pushing his legs between Draco’s back and the wall.
“Ow!” Draco complained, moving away from the wall.
“Then lay down, idiota.” Blaise replied easily.
“Why is he speaking so much Italian now? He doesn’t usually do that.” Neville commented.
“That happens when he’s emotional. He sometimes has trouble keeping the language barrier in place when he’s stressed.” Draco sighed and pulled Neville with him. “Come on, let’s lie down.”
The three teens curled up together and began to doze lightly, Neville’s magic humming happily as it examined the feel and flavor of Draco’s magic, declaring it a possible match for Neville when he came into his inheritance and latching onto it for further consideration.
* I'm sorry, my Dragon. I'm here for you if you need my help. (In Italian, which I do NOT speak AT ALL. Feel free to correct me if google translate is wrong.)
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Shiloe: Just the Two of Us