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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7990 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story

Chapter List
- 32
- 33
- 34
Hey, everyone. Thank you all for being so patient with this chapter. It has over 5,000 words (my normal ranges at about 3,000). I really hope everyone likes it, and I hope I continue to make this a worthwhile story.
Two days from now, I will be posting a Christmas special of HTTYA, which takes place between 1&2, titled "HTTYA: Traditions." Sam Wallflower gave me the prompt, which is about Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius and their first Christmas together. Expect some comedy; some thought provoking moments and just a whole bunch of cute Scorpius getting his father into trouble (not that Draco needs any help with that!)
waymay has since edited this chapter. Thank you, way!
Three days from now, The Jameson Chronicles, chapter 2 will be updated! :3
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
"Hurt" cover by Johnny Cash
Original song by Nine Inch Nails
Dean Thomas stood at the bottom of the stairs, primed for battle. His instinctive Auror muscle memory made his stance that much more daunting as he turned to Lindy when it dawned on him, "You were just a decoy to keep us occupied."
"Catch on quick, don't you, Auror Thomas? Guess that gut instinct of yours doesn't work every time."
Panic flooded to his throat, "What did you do?"
Lindy shrugged. "I gave enough time to allow one of Auror Diggle's old gems beneath the manor to strip away the wards."
Licking his dry lips, Dean felt his stomach drop. "A Pandora Box? How… we destroyed them all."
"Yes. I'm sure you did. But tell me this -do you think it was a coincidence I was 'killed' in front of one of the most close-minded Aurors on the division?"
"Your death… was to make Draco vulnerable."
"Easy as pie, really. I meant it when I told him I looked up to him, though. He's an astonishingly brilliant wizard. But I needed to break him if I was going to be able to sift through his mind. -After my death, he returned to the Malfoy Manor a shattered man. I was waiting, curled up in a little grey ball on the sofa. I'll have you know I wasn't the kitten the entire time. Only after I saw you lot doting over the one in the Auror Division that day. No one noticed when I made the switch. -Distracted by his singular working mind, I had a bit of fun digging around in his head. It turns out, some of his work was left in this very basement, untouched. With all of his plans out for me to sift through, it only made sense I use a bit of his knowledge to assure my good graces with Lord Malfoy. -Do you know Auror Malfoy harbors such hatred for himself? It's quite… deploring. Do you want to know what he thinks of you, Dean Thomas? You might not like it…"
"That's enough, Travers."
A man in a flowing, black hood stood at the top of the staircase, a glowing tip arrow pointed directly at Dean's heart.
"Perfect timing," Lindy grumbled, moving against her restraints. "Auror Thomas, allow me to introduce you to Bruno Shafiq."
Dean leered at the archer assailant. "Let me guess. Sacred Twenty-Eight reject?"
Bruno moved a few more paces down the stairs, the tip of his nose and his mouth the only things visible beneath the hood. "On your knees."
"On my knees?" Dean feigned a smug expression. "At least take a guy to dinner first. -Flipendo!" Blue light shot out of his wand and knocked the tip of the arrow just as Shafiq released the bowstring. It set the arrow off course, missing Dean's shoulder by an inch before crashing into a set of potion vials against the back wall. As pink smoke and a bubbling hiss filled the dungeon, Dean took the opportunity to cover and conjured up a protection spell, retreating further into the smoke. Lindy coughed, directly in the prime arena of the acidic magenta cloud. Shafiq could be heard running down the staircase, no doubt to aid his counterpart, but the smoke held him back. Begrudgingly, Dean's conscience got the better of him, and he pointed his wand at Lindy, casting a luminescent protection bubble around her head. His location compromised, Dean ducked his head as another arrow, this time aimed for his shoulder, scraped across the material of his cloak and landed with a plink into the wall.
The smoke grew larger. Dean could barely see in front of his face. Arrow after arrow whizzed through the air, magicked with scourgefying properties Dean could only guess, seeing as how the fumes began to disperse. Quickly, he did the only thing he could think of. He waved his wand and snuffed the candles in the room out, rendering it pitch dark.
The room went eerily quiet. Dean struggled to recall which way the stairs were. Too afraid to move, dare he give his location away, he attempted to control his breathing. He could hear Lindy clear her throat. Could hear the footsteps of an approaching opponent. Dean closed his mouth, breathing through his nose in hopes of making less noise.
One. Two. Three. He counted the number of footsteps and heard the bowstring's singular sound as it was tugged back. Anticipating the next move, he shouted, "Vermillious!" Red, aggressive sparks burst from his wand in the direction of where he assumed the archer was and hoped for the best. He hit his target; he could tell by the agitated shout of anger. Taking his chance, Dean used the light of the sparks to spot the staircase. He found it just before the room went dark again.
"Bruno!" Lindy shouted. "Bruno, unbind me!"
Swizz! Something grazed Dean's cheek. Clink! It hit the wall next to him.
"Lumosaddo!" The tip of Bruno Shafiq's arrow lit up, illuminating the room in a pale glow. Dean took notice of how close he was to the top of the staircase, and the door just out of his reach. So close…
"Get him!"
"Travers, if you keep distracting me, it'll be you next."
Shafiq released the bowstring. The arrow soared through the air.
Dean reached for the handle-
Astoria made it to the top of the staircase, wand in hand, before she heard the shatter of the teacup downstairs. She wasn't sure how she knew it was the teacup Theodore sipped from not moments before, but she did. Devastation burst in her chest, filling her up and weighting her legs. The more she moved, the heavier she felt.
Something approached down the hall; she caught sight of it just as it landed with a graceful bound into the foyer, turning this way and that. It gave an acute sniff to the air before setting its sights to the stairs, leaping back and forth, excited. Quickly, its springy legs took off in Astoria's direction.
"Bombarda!" Astoria shouted, destroying the lower portion of the banister. It splintered and ruptured apart before toppling over the stairs in rubble, blocking the pathway. She retreated further into the hallway on a course for Scorpius when a gripping pain shot up her arm, causing her to stop. Her breathing became ragged. Her head swam. Swiftly, she reached for her sleeve and pulled it back, revealing her blackened veins, which crept even further up her arm to the crook. "Damn it." The blood curse, she knew, worked only one way: the more strain her body took, the quicker the effects of the curse. The adrenaline coursing through her veins only helped to hinder her health, and it seemed to be doing its job quite well. But she didn't have time to worry about that now. Now, all that mattered was finding Scorpius before one of these lecherous fiends.
"Ooh, you're not looking too good there, pretty lady. The independent mother attempted to flee the scene, determined to save her only son. The suspense practically writes itself, doesn't it?"
Astoria refused to look weak in the eyes of an enemy, so she straightened up her back and turned around to meet the chipper face of a young girl in persimmon robes. Balancing on one foot at the top of the stairs, she giggled.
"Feeling a bit under the weather? How about a lie-down."
The girl snapped her fingers, and Astoria was met with a grueling weight on her shoulders that knocked her back. Her head slammed into the floor, and she saw stars. Summoning enough strength to pull herself back upright, Astoria fought through the bursts behind her eyes, wand still tight in her hand. "I don't prefer dueling with children. How old are you? Twelve?"
"Thirteen," the girl smiled. "And a half." She looked incredibly proud of herself, and far more sure than any thirteen-year-old should have. Astoria, realizing she was overwhelmed, decided stalling might be the best idea.
"Your magic is cogent. Indeed, I might be bested by a worthy opponent."
"The older woman realized she was met with a formidable foe and conceded. -Well, that's not very plot inspiring, is it?"
"What's your name?" Astoria asked, ignoring the child's quip.
"Dessamine, at your service," the girl spun in a circle before curtsying. "You might have heard of my illegitimate father, Lewis Yaxley." She dropped her cheery disposition momentarily. "Everyone calls me Dessy, though. No need to ask your name. A face such as yours is synonymous with fashion in the wizarding world: Astoria Greengrass." Then the facade was back up, along with a skip in her step. "Do you know how many articles I've read about you since your divorce from Draco Malfoy? I don't know why the tabloids care so much. A muggle sympathizer such as yourself is hardly newsworthy."
And just like that, Astoria's fake kindness fell flat like a ton of bricks. "Glad to know a sniveling, gangly teenager has time to read the gossip columns between her duties as Abraxas's minion."
"She says with conviction in her tone," Dessy giggled. "Lord Malfoy will be pleased to know you're still at home. Though, we seem to be missing someone. Dear me, where is Scorpius, I wonder? Shall we go wake him up and tell him his great grandfather has an early Christmas gift for him?"
Astoria could feel her strength wane, and her eyes blur. She struggled to stay awake, but the magical fatigue was a force to be reckoned with. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and she fell to the floor, gasping for breath.
"Looks like mommy does needs a lie-down."
Just before her eyes faded into unconsciousness, she caught sight a furry fox scurrying across the floor, snatching up her wand. Then, everything went black.
There was never such a formidable, and yet oddly irritating, sight as Ron Weasley as he approached Draco from the back of the crowd. He never had the capability of being physically frightening, but just the knowledge that Draco had a hand in his death made the approach all the more unsettling. Just when he thought he might vomit under the pressure, Weasley forwent Draco entirely, instead setting his eyes on Greg Diggle. "This cold sack of worthless shite."
And then, even though he knew damn well he shouldn't, Draco broke out into a laugh. "You're telling me." Relieved the attention is off of him, he crosses his arms, mirroring Weasley as his sights fall on Diggle.
"Hmm?" Diggle muttered. "Are you talking to me, or…?"
"Weasley says you're a cold sack of worthless shit. I daresay I have to agree with him."
"And a double-crosser," Ron continued, his voice elevating with each word. "I trusted you, Diggs. I put my life in your dirty, selfish, crime-obsessed hands! I shoulda never met up with you that day!" He began to pace, nearly manic. "But no! I had to do the fucking 'honorable thing' and give you a sodding chance! And now look at you-nearly took down the entire bloody Ministry because of my fucking mistake! Bloody Hell, I was an idiot. I knew you always had an eye out for 'Mione, and I looked the other way. Now my family's been hurt, again, my best friend is in trouble, my wife is about to marry a walking cock strut, and it's all your fucking fault! The worst part is, you can't even bloody hear me! -Malfoy, translate!"
Draco would have felt remorse for his involvement at that moment, except for the fact that his brain grabbed onto one key phrase and played back to him in his head over and over again.
"Cock strut?"
"A flaccid one at that," Weasley muttered.
And just like that, Draco's humility was snuffed out.
"That's rich, coming from a third-rate apparition. I can still see dirt on your face, Weasel-bee. I'm impressed to see someone can still be poor even in the afterlife."
The schoolboy rivalry, buried years ago, found its way to the surface once again. Weasley turned to Draco, fire in his eyes. "It's nice to see your respect for the dead is overshadowed by your ego. You're compensating so hard, it practically envelopes the room! I'm surprised there's enough room for us all!"
Draco scoffed at the attempt at insult and bullied back, "It isn't the only thing in this room that's big, Weasley."
"Like I said! Compensating!"
A smirk flittered across Draco's face. "Funny. Hermione doesn't seem to mind my enormous ego. In fact, I would say she enjoys it immensely. You can ask Diggle how much she enjoyed it in the shower earlier tonight!"
He realized he killed two birds with one stone, watching Weasley's face drop into a look of disgust as he gagged while Diggle rolled his eyes and looked elsewhere.
"Bloody disgusting," Ron groaned.
"Malfoy," said Diggle, "We don't have time for you to be swapping sizes with a dead man."
Draco's pride was satisfied, for the time being, and he smiled in triumph over winning the spat. "As much as I hate to admit it, Diggle's right, Weasley. We don't have time to be arguing with you."
"What are you doing working with this guy, anyway?" The redheaded apparition gestured over to Diggle, anger in his tone. "Does 'Mione know what you two plan to do?"
"I'll admit it isn't ideal, but… this is the way it has to be," Draco said definitively. "The only way I can protect everyone -my son- is with his help." He took a step toward Diggle, preparing to drop the stone and had over the book until Weasley offered something Draco never anticipated.
"I don't blame you."
Bitterly, Draco turned his head toward the ghostly man. "Of course you do."
Weasley rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I mean, a bit." His voice was nearly teasing. "But not entirely."
Draco looked down to his hands, at the stone and the book. "I do."
Diggle gave a frustrated huff. "Malfoy, they're dead. Hermione is still very much alive."
"He better keep her name outta his mouth if he knows what's good for him," said Weasley.
Draco took another step towards Diggle, hands extended. Ron's sobering face stalled him, however, and he glanced around at the dead.
As if sensing the Auror's inner struggle, Weasley continued, "I made my fair share of mistakes, too, Malfoy. I trusted Diggle with my life. -D'you really wanna hand over that kind of power to someone you know has nothing but his own interests at heart?"
Draco concentrated on the shaking in his knees, willing them to still. "I'm not strong enough to do this on my own."
The soft, easy-to-listen-to voice of Dumbledore filled the blond's ears, calming his nerves with passive authority. "Perhaps not. But you aren't alone, Mister Malfoy. You have Mister Potter, Miss Granger, and Mister Thomas. You have an abundance of friendships at your side, if only you would let them in."
Weasley extended an arm between the book and Diggle. "You say you feel guilt, Malfoy? Prove it."
"How?"
"Malfoy," Diggle sensed Draco's doubts, eyes drifting between the book and the empty space in the room.
"Don't give it to him. You wanna make up for all the terrible things you've done. This is your moment to do the right thing. Be stronger than that. Be better than that."
Draco felt an overwhelming wave of weakness, and he snapped, "I'm not a bloody Gryffindor! I can't just charge headfirst into battle!"
"Grow a spine!"
"I can't!" he stepped back, glaring into baby blues. "I've tried, for years, to pretend I have one, but I don't! No matter how much I try, I'm never going to be strong. Why do you think I followed that miserable excuse of a human being around for years? I'm never going to be the goddamn hero." He spat the last word as if it was vile.
To his surprise, it was Snape who stepped forward, his signature dry drawl making it impossible for Draco to look away. "Believe me, Mister Malfoy; there isn't a soul here who could relate to your plight more than I. Everyone always expects you to do the right thing as if were to come so easily." He scoffed. "So heed me when I say: no one is ever ready to play the role."
Draco could feel the hot betrayal of tears behind his eyelids, angry with himself for being such a blubbering coward. He was angry at himself for wanting to do what was easy instead of what was right. He was angry because he knew Hermione deserved better. "Tell me what to do."
"Alas," whispered Dumbledore, "this isn't a decision any of us can make for you. It must be your decision. But I have faith you will do the right thing, Draco. You have always been the strongest Malfoy."
His response was a laugh. "I think you might need to look in the dictionary, Professor. Strong isn't synonymous with my name."
Dumbledore smiled, amused. "One is never ready for the burden of heroism. It is what makes a hero so great: the ability to stand up for what is right, even when one would rather take the less demanding road. A mountain is not carved without resistance."
Draco looked to his potion's professor and godfather. "How did you do it?"
Snape raised a measured eyebrow and replied, "Vigilance and a nagging conscience."
Vincent Crabbe chimed in, "You can do this, Malfoy."
Colin Creevey nodded.
Draco looked to Lavender Brown, expecting some kind of similar cheer, but she only rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't ask me to believe in you. I still think you're a spineless twat."
Draco smirked.
Weasley moved forward to pat Draco on the shoulder, forgetting his place. His hand fell through, and the young Malfoy was met with a cold chill. The Gray tingled at his fingertips. Weasley frowned, apparently feeling the shake in energy as well. "I still think you're an arrogant arse," he said. "And it makes my stomach turn to think you and Hermione…" He stared down to his translucent hand, then the stone, and then Diggle. His eyes burned with loathing. "But I have faith in you, Malfoy. You can do this." His eyes softened, and he turned his head toward his once nemesis. "Tell them I love them, will you?"
He didn't need to ask who 'them' was. He already knew. "I promise."
"Are you done with the touchy feely?" Diggle groaned. "Can we move on to more pressing matters?" He thrust out his hand. "We need to work together to make this happen, remember?"
Draco stared long and hard at the book, a sense of purpose dawning on him. He took a step back and tucked the book under his arm for safe keeping, noticing Diggle's aggravated slump of shoulders. Next, he asked Weasley, "Would you come back, if you could?"
There was a series of emotions as the gangly giant stripped down layer after layer of pride, assessing his feelings, each one more poignant than the last. Eventually, his eyes turned to the stone longingly. "When this is over… destroy it."
"What?"
"Destroy the stone. The dead… stay dead." Weasley looked as if he might cry, but there was also a surge of anger written across his features. He turned his gaze toward Diggle and walked straight up to him, peering at his face while Diggle stared in another direction, unknowing. "I made the biggest mistake of my life trusting this one. I shoulda turned him into the proper authorities when I had the chance. My death… that's on him. Not you."
"Weasley…" Draco's pride wanted desperately to protect him, but he felt the chink in his emotional armor, rendering him speechless once more.
"He's the reason for the situation you find yourself in now with your grandfather. Whatever you do, you make sure this slimy git pays for his crimes. Hold him accountable. You've done enough for the both of you." He paused. "And, tell 'Mione-"
Draco wouldn't -couldn't- hear Weasley's next words. "-When this is all over, you can tell her." Draco squeezed the stone tighter against his palm. "I won't destroy it until you two have a chance to talk."
Diggle went wide eyed. "Destroy? What do you mean? Destroy the stone? Are you out of your mind?"
Ignoring Diggle, Draco realized there was only one more person on his list of people to talk to. He stepped past Weasley, Dumbledore, and Snape, over to the foggy window his grandmother peered out of, down to the snow-covered streets below. Even in her elderly age, she was still a breathtaking beauty with a slender jaw and hardly a wrinkle.
"When I was a little girl, your grandfather and I used to play in the snow on nights such as this one," she said, bundling her arms around her fur shawl, though why Draco is unsure. Surely the dead couldn't feel such things as 'hot' and 'cold'? "I cannot believe Abraxas would go to these lengths."
"You must have known what kind of man he was."
The corner of her eyes squinted, revealing crows feet, and she, finally, peered over to Draco. "The man I fell in love with… he was strict in his beliefs, yes, but… to attack our son the way he did. To threaten yours the way he does now... " She reached over as if to touch her grandson, but then stopped herself, remembering her place in the afterlife. "You do what you must. For family."
Draco nodded. "For family."
"Tell Lucius…" She pursed her lips together. "I've always been proud of him. Do that for me?"
"Of course." Though he really didn't want to.
"I'm proud of you as well. I only wish I could have lived to see the birth of your son. -But remember this, Draco. Family might seem like blood, but it's more than that. It's who loves you the most in this world. Those people… they are your real family. Go now, and do what I could not. Put my husband in his place." She then turned back to the window and resumed her staring. "Winter is so beautiful in London…"
Draco couldn't bring himself to turn around and face them all again. If he did, he might never be able to let them go. And he needed to be stronger than that. "Thank you," he said quietly. "All of you. I know what I need to do." He dropped the stone to the floor. The connection was lost. Everyone was gone.
Everyone, that was, except for Diggle.
"You're right, Diggle. We do need to work together."
"As I've been saying." The convict sounded relieved. "Give me the book."
"I'll go first," Draco offered.
"...As you wish."
Draco inhaled, walked to the nightstand, opened the book, and reached over to the dresser, pricking his finger on the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Blood dripped onto the pages, and the Gray awoke.
'What have you?'
Draco thought. What did he have to offer? His insecurities taunted him, chiming in about Diggle being right all along -he wasn't strong enough for this. But Dumbledore's words echoed in his ear, giving him hope. One is never read for the burden of heroism. But what did Draco Malfoy have an abundance of that never wavered? Bravery? No. Logic? Too hot headed.
It's nice to see your respect for the dead is overshadowed by your ego.
Of course.
"Take my ego in exchange for your help. If there's one thing a Malfoy has an abundance of, it's that."
"Vast understatement," muttered Diggle.
Silence filled the room. And then…
'The Gray accepts.'
The Gray tingled underneath his fingers, searching Draco's core magic. It climbed his arm, down his spine, and around his chest. Draco, instinctively, puffed out his ribcage. The Gray, satisfied, seeped into Draco's lungs and dug slowly into his soul. Then, with a quick bite, it latched on, causing Draco to wince. He could feel his magic amplify nearly instantly.
"That's more painful than Hermione made it sound…" He smirked, lightheaded. "Though, not entirely too bad."
"Yes, yes. Let's move on, shall we?" Diggle moved toward the book, but Draco waved his hand and snapped it shut.
"Yeah, about that," he pushed a wordless barrier around the book, concentrating on a stinging hex. The Gray guided him through the process, vibrating in his body like a purring cat. Diggle didn't look at all pleased with Draco's reaction, and made a quick moment decision; he reached for the book, but it zapped him and sent him flying backward onto the bed. "We do need to work together. But it doesn't mean I'm letting you anywhere near the Gray. I made a promise."
"Are you out of your bloody mind?" Diggle hobbled to sit up on his elbows, his hair standing on end comically. "You stupid -you're an even bigger idiot than I thought!"
Normally, Draco would have felt the need to snap back with some deploring quip. But the Gray tingled in his chest, and he shrugged. "Come on, Diggs. We best get to work. Grab the stone, would you?" With a wave of his hand, he yanked Diggle up, by magic, to his feet. Merlin, this took his wandless magic to an entirely new level, didn't it? "Amazing…" He glanced down to his palm, entranced.
Diggle, huffily, looked down to the Resurrection stone on the floor and frowned. He rubbed his hands down the side of his pants, pulled his sleeve over his hand, and picked it up that way, careful not to touch it with his skin. Draco noticed, thinking to comment on it, but the Gray hummed inside his brain, and he let it go, knowing full well the reason Diggle didn't want to touch the stone. He was afraid of seeing his father. Scared of seeing the disappointment in his eyes.
"Right. Now all we need is a plan of action."
Harry and Hermione took the lead on the garden path towards the Malfoy Manor, followed closely behind by Lucius, though he hobbled in pain against his walking cane. They were careful as they approached, making sure to stay in the shadows. Every now and again, Hermione would send a burst of Gray Magic out toward the path in front, searching for trap spells or alarms. Harry continuously looked back during these times, eyeing Lucius with an uneasy face.
Finally, Lucius became fed up. "What?"
"How did you manage to sneak out to let us in undetected?"
The elder Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Not that it concerns you, Potter, but I might have taken a leave of absence to smoke my tobacco pipe before I knew the Manor would be infested by danger." To prove his point, he revealed a lengthy smoking pipe and wagged it in front of Harry's face.
"Spoken like a man who doesn't want to be caught," stated Hermione diligently, watching the smirk fall from the man's face. "Narcissa doesn't approve, does she?"
"Considering it's probably what caused his lung condition," Harry chimed in, "It's doubtful she'd be cheering him on."
"So you snuck out."
"Are you two quite through? I do believe there are more pressing matters at hand -like the fact my wife and grandson are in mortal peril?" Lucius sneered.
"There must be loads of secret entrances into the Malfoy Manor," said Harry, looking back to the
coughing man. "You'll show us where they are."
Lucius looked as if he did not approve Harry ordering him around one bit, but he conceded, nonetheless. "Follow me, and do find a muse to silence yourselves. The last thing I need is for one of us to drop dead because you two couldn't keep your incessant chatter to yourselves."
Theodore knew he didn't have much of an option, at this point, but to duel with the Malfoy before him. With an honorable wave of the wand, he dropped his illusion charms, but still keeping his protective barriers intact. Abraxas Malfoy gave one of those signature smirks all Malfoy men were known for producing and clapped, slowly.
"Wonderful. Finally, someone brave to sink my teeth into."
"I should warn you," Theodore said, prepping his stance. "I don't plan to make this easy on you."
"I would hope not," Abraxas replied, readying his posture as well. "After all, where would be the fun in that?" He gave a graceful bow, his long platinum blond hair falling over his eyes. When he raised his head, the tone in those icy-grey orbs changed to one of a predator. "Let's start with something simple, yes? -Reducto!"
"Confringo!" Theodore countered, blasting away Abraxas's spell with ease. The other man didn't look at all troubled. In fact, he looked highly amused.
"Wonderful. Your turn… ah. It's only dawned on me now that I haven't caught your name."
"That's because I didn't offer it," said Theodore. Typically, the phrase would have been said with a sarcastic undertone, but not to the humor-deprived Auror. So, he added, "Theodore Jameson."
"Such manners. I can see why my dear Travers is smitten with you."
Theodore's face scrunched up in confusion, not at the reference of Lindy being called Travers, but the inference that Lindy would hold any candle toward him at all. Surely this was all some way of Abraxas trying to throw him off his axis. "Petrificus Totalus!"
With a flick of his wand, Abraxas caused the spell to bounce off his wand and hit a painting on the wall. Effortless, Theodore realized. His movements were effortless.
"I expected more from an Auror put in charge of my family's protection. But no matter… Relashio!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Abraxas laughed. "Langlock!" This time, Abraxas's spell hit its target, causing Theodore's throat to clutch up, unable to speak. "Such an amazing spell, don't you think? My younger counterparts taught it to me recently."
Damn it. No matter. Theodore was talented in wandless magic as well. He spun the tip of his wand in an intricate design, yanking the tapestries from the wall and causing them to fall onto his opponent. With his chance made, he darted toward the foyer. He nearly made it past the archway when he felt a grand seize of magic around his stomach, yanking him backward and onto the dining room table.
Before he could get up, a glowing blue stone at the end of a walking cane was jutted in front of his face.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Abraxas smirked above him. "A worthy opponent you are, but you still have much to learn in the fine art of dueling. Your wand, Theodore Jameson, or your magic. It is your choice."
Recognizing the Pandora Stone from his briefings, he, reluctantly, thrust out his wand and dropped it to the floor.
"Wonderful," Abraxas looked behind him, leaning the stone closer to Theodore's cheek to make his point clear: if he moved, he would regret it. The Malfoy's face contorted into an impressed smirk, and he gestured his wand arm out. "Right on time!" He reached down, yanked Theodore up to sit, still holding the stone inches away from the Auror. It was, then, in which Theodore was able to see the room had begun to fill with cloaked figures, and even more footsteps could be heard down the hall. "Theodore Jameson, might I introduce you to the New Order of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties