Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy’s eyes wandered throughout the Great Hall during the Sorting, forcing himself to focus on the present or, really, anything rather than the carnage the castle had witnessed mere months ago. It was almost painful to see the class of first years, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about their magical education, wholly unaware of the horrors this building had witnessed. Unaware of the dead that had been laid out in this very room. Unaware of the heroes and villains interspersed among the four house tables.
Well, mostly unaware. He was pretty famously villainous, if the terrified looks the first sorted Slytherins gave him were anything to go by.
Draco rolled his eyes. He was alone at his house table, an outcast, and he was actually delighted. After years of attempting to be and please his father and two more of being tortured and used, he was just fine on his own. No one to suck up to him for his name or wealth, no one he needed to impress for his father, no one to actually care for him at their own peril.
No, alone was just fine by Draco. He had a book on potions theory Severus had left him and he intended to eat as much as he could, read as he did it, then collapse into a heavily warded bed and pray to Merlin the nightmares would cease and desist for the evening.
He was so lost in his musing he was entirely unprepared for the small body to plop itself across from him.
Draco startled and gaped at the tiny first year, beaming at him.
“Hello, I’m Sadie Perkins,” the little girl greeted and stuck her hand out across the table.
Draco scowled at her. “The first years are all sitting together.”
The girl cocked her head at him, assessing, but her smile never wavered, bright against her dark skin.
“Yes, I know. But you’re all by yourself, so I thought I’d join you. Besides, I’ll get to know my yearmates in the dorms later, but you’re an older student so you can tell me what it’s like to be in Slytherin.”
Draco cast his eyes to the heavens for strength. “Yes, well, perhaps I’m alone for a good reason and you should trust the rest of your House’s character assessment.”
She had the audacity to giggle. “I like to make my own opinions,” then she wiggled the hand she still held out and internally using no fewer than twelve obscenities, he took it.
They were a study in contrasts; small and large, beaming smiles and hardened scowls, her glowing, rich brown skin against his pale and wan complexion.
“So, what is it like in Slytherin?” she prompted and he sighed, stabbing his shepherd’s pie with his fork.
“The other houses and most of the faculty will assume you’re evil, but you should know sometimes they are right,” he gave her a pointed look but she remained willfully obtuse. “So we are loyal to one another. Whatever they say, the traits of our house - cunning, loyalty, ambition, these aren’t bad things. Your fate isn’t set because of your house.”
And that, folks, was as sincere as he was going to get. There would be no sharing of how maybe if everyone hadn’t expected him to be evil he might have believed he could fight it. Might have bothered forming friendships that would have shown him the error of his ways sooner. That he might not have felt alienated from everyone and so tried to make himself feel better by putting others down.
Or maybe not. He was his father’s son, after all, and Lucius had made it painfully clear what was expected of him.
“There you have it; your insider information. Scurry along now,” he gestured with his fork for her to return to the other munchkins.
Instead, she cocked her head again, a tic of hers apparently which looked ridiculous and not adorable with her two little poofy buns of black hair sticking out atop her head.
“Why do they think Slytherin is evil?” she scrunched her nose up as she said it.
Was this some sort of divine punishment? To have this little firstie learn why Slytherins were assumed evil, from him, a Death Eater?
Draco released a dramatic sigh. “Well, there have been two wizarding wars and they were led by an evil psychopath who claimed to be the heir of Slytherin, and several families who have historically been sorted into Slytherin sided with aforementioned evil psychopath.” He’d learned the term psychopath during the trials, and it seemed wholly appropriate for the Dark Lord.
“Huh,” she frowned, then shook her head. “What are the cool parts?”
“Well, the common room is under the lake and you can see the merpeople and fish. We’ve reasonable access to the kitchens for snacks,” he shrugged. His patience was waning. He’d made a reasonable effort to not be actively cruel to the baby snake but he was tired, his side ached, and he could feel the curious glances of the other Slytherins.
“Oh! Merpeople! Like Ariel?”
Draco furrowed his brows. “Uhm, sure, perhaps one is named Ariel. I don’t speak mermish, so I couldn’t tell you.”
The little firstie bounced in her seat, “What about that Forbidden Forest they mentioned? Are there other cool magical creatures in there?”
Draco refrained, but only just, from slamming his head onto the table. Multiple times.
“It is forbidden for a reason. There are plenty of monsters that will eat you, and I am not exaggerating, in that bloody forest. You’ll meet plenty of interesting vermin in your Care of Magical Creatures Class,”
With the great bloody oaf. Though now instead of his ridiculous attempts at teaching, Draco could only see him carrying Potter’s body and feeling the hope drain from his soul.
Draco shook himself. No dwelling on the war, not now. He’d barely avoided a terror turn at the sight of Granger and if that didn’t send him over the edge, nothing else would this evening, thanks all the same.
“What’s your favorite class?” she asked him, seemingly unaware of his near predicament.
“Potions.”
“You never did tell me your name, you know.”
Ah, she didn’t know who he was! Well this would free him from this conversation quickly.
“Draco Malfoy.”
She screwed up her face as she regarded him for a long moment.
“Your parents did you dirty with that one, huh?”
Draco nearly spit out his pumpkin juice as an involuntary laugh was wrenched from his chest. Oh, you have no idea.
“What, dragon of bad faith doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement of a name?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow at her.
She giggled.
Ugh.
They both returned to eating and mostly enjoyed a companionable silence which, Draco was surprised to note, he did not entirely hate. She pestered him with a couple more questions and he answered as bitingly as possible so she’d get the hint, but she never left. When the feast was dismissed he gave her a nod and she returned it with an enthusiastic wave.
He lied to himself when he said he would be glad when her little classmates told her the truth about the evil, tainted Death Eater.
--
Draco glowered at the little bundle of energy the following morning as she sank onto the bench across from him.
“Morning, Draco!”
His given name? Really?
He merely grunted in reply.
Throughout the following days he couldn’t shake his little shadow. She returned to tell him of her classes, how she was making a friend in Hufflepuff (Draco had yet to understand why his energetic hanger-on was not sorted there herself) and what was most interesting to her in classes. She was particularly fond of Care of Magical Creatures and unsurprisingly, she adored Hagrid. She came to Draco eagerly informing him of the traits of nifflers, unicorns, and some creatures she’d come across in her own reading.
“I want to meet a house elf!” she greeted him one morning.
“I think I’m going to get a pygmy puff,” she informed him another day.
She found Draco occasionally for other meals, but she always joined him for breakfast. Her astute commentary included gems such as “Are you a vampire? I didn’t know people could be that pale,” and “Do you sleep at all? You’ve got raccoon eyes,” and his personal favorite, “You kind of look half-dead, Draco, have you thought about going outside?”
He spent as much time outside as possible, he told her snippily. He avoided the worst of the countless hexes, pranks, jeers, and glares that way.
That was a bloody mistake as she took to finding him outside as well.
After finding out she was miserable at flying, Draco took to teaching her. Wouldn’t do for anyone to see such an inept Slytherin.
“There you go, balance, engage your core,” he gestured at his own and she nodded as her broom straightened where it hovered three feet off the ground.
Sadie beamed at him. “I did it!”
“So it would seem,” he replied but his lips were twitching upward against his will.
Her face fell a little and she fiddled with the broom handle and her sleeve.
“Draco, can I ask you something?”
“Has my permission or lack thereof ever stopped you before?” he deadpanned and instead of her usual giggle at his grouchiness she just nodded.
“What’s a mudblood?”
Draco’s heart stopped and his vision nearly tunnelled.
“Where did you hear that word?” he asked, voice icy, and Sadie blinked up at him in surprise.
“Burke always calls me that and I couldn’t figure out what it meant…” she trailed off and looked down again.
Draco stared at her in rage and horror. Rage because a little snot had made his firstie sad and horror because sweet Salazar, she was muggleborn? He’d been an absolute idiot, he’d underprepared her, no wonder she needed flying lessons, no wonder she still came to him when several of her housemates likely thought her blood impure. It had been insanity that a first-year had attached herself to him, but it was so, so much worse that this innocent muggleborn girl had chosen a bloody Death Eater to be her guide.
“He will not be calling you that again,” Draco bit out, trying to clamp down on his fury, but, given Sadie’s little jump nearly had her falling off her broom, he supposed he wasn’t entirely successful.
Sadie righted herself and looked up at him again with those huge, dark eyes and asked again, “What does it mean?”
He occluded, forcing his rage away. Surely this was someone’s idea of penance, but for once Draco was willing to pay. If he could prevent this one little muggleborn from enduring what he’d done to Granger, he would do it, awkwardness on his part and likely hatred from her be damned.
More gently than he’d ever been before, he asked her to follow him to the rock by the lake so they could sit. She did.
“There are people who believe those who come from non-magical families are dangerous or undeserving of their magic. They are wrong, but that word is a slur for muggleborn witches and wizards, implying their blood is impure because it is muggle,” he began and he glanced at her to make sure she was following, which she indicated by nodding along.
“It’s...I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were muggleborn earlier or I would have told you more specifically about the wars I mentioned. Remember what I said about the evil psychopath?”
Sadie nodded again.
“His...agenda was to rule over muggles and…”
He trailed off. Oh, Merlin, could he tell this bright wonder of a child that there were people trying to kill everyone like her?
She had to know, though. The danger wasn’t entirely past.
“And the... elimination of muggleborns,” he finished, cheeks burning. Salazar, how had he ever been so terrible and stupid? At first she regarded him in confusion, her brow wrinkled, until her eyes widened in horror as she realized what he meant.
“So Burke...he thinks I should die?” she whispered quietly, and Draco wanted to rip his heart out of his chest as he saw those bright, inquisitive eyes shining with tears.
“Probably not, Sadie. He’s...young and stupid is probably only spouting the vile things he’s heard. But if it doesn’t get corrected, it could very well get to that point,” he replied as gently as he could while all he felt was pure, unadulterated self-loathing. This wasn’t about him. (Though, Draco reflected it wasn’t not about him as he had been Burke and Sadie had been Granger once upon a time).
“The war mostly shattered the idea of pureblood superiority and that the Dark Lord’s agenda would benefit anyone, but there are some who cling to the old ways.”
“Draco?” Sadie asked again.
He replied with a glance at her.
“What’s a Death Eater?”
Every thought, every sensation, everything eddied out of his mind as he stared at little Sadie and her trusting eyes and her tear-stained cheeks.
“A follower of the Dark Lord,” he managed to rasp.
Her brow furrowed. “The Dark Lord is the evil psychopath?”
A strangled chuckle of misery tried to make its way out of his chest. “Yes. He’s also referred to as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Lord Voldemort,” he ignored the tightening of his chest and the hitching of his own breath, “was what he called himself.”
“People...sometimes people have said you’re a Death Eater to me,” Sadie bit her lip.
Well, this was it, then.
“They are correct,” he admitted, returning his gaze to the lake. He couldn’t bear to see her face crumple or the hatred and betrayal he’d see cross her features, he couldn’t. Not right now. He’d prepare himself for it later, but not right now.
“But...you don’t act like you hate me or want me to die. I know you don’t,” she replied, cocking her head at him as he returned his gaze to her. Instead of hatred there was only a kind of quizzical cast to her features. Like the information she was given didn’t compute.
“I don’t hate you and I definitely don’t want you to die. Burke will never use that word again, I promise,” is what he managed and he was rather pleased he got that out.
“But you...were a Death Eater?” she asked, little buns still askew from her head’s position.
Draco sighed. Deliberately he unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it back so she could see his bare left arm.
“This is the Dark Mark, the brand the Dark Lord’s followers bore. It’s faded now that he’s dead,” he told her in a monotone.
Sadie scooted closer and took his arm in hers. She traced it with her little fingers and Draco tried to manage the shame attempting to overwhelm him.
“Why are there scars all over it?” she asked quietly.
Draco snatched his arm back.
“Not important,” he glowered at her.
“So did you want it and then come to regret it or were you forced?”
He blinked at her. “What?”
Sadie sat back and regarded him. “You don’t hate me now, so either you never did and someone made you or you changed your mind at some point. Which is it?”
Draco stared at her, mouth falling open. His heart pounded in his ears and his breathing turned uneven.
No one, not even the Wizengamot, not even Potter and Granger as they’d inexplicably testified for him, had ever asked him if he’d had a choice in receiving the Mark. The assumption had always been he’d asked for it, demanded it even.
Everyone had heard “you have to want the Mark or it’ll kill you” or other such rubbish, and so no one questioned whether or not Draco had volunteered for it. No one wondered what “want” meant, whether it was enthusiastic consent or something less. No one wondered about the barely sixteen year old who came home for the summer to find a monster in his home with no escape, no allies, and no real options. The options were accept the Mark or watch his mother’s continued torture before he watched her die.
So, between option A, slavery to a madman and option B, letting them murder his mother, he wanted option A. If there was any truth to the myth of wanting the Mark, then all it required was a desperate preference.
“I...they were going to kill my mum,” he finally managed, voice strained and quiet.
He cleared his throat, shaking his head and returning his gaze to the lake. He couldn’t look at this little wunderkind and occlude successfully.
Sadie scooted closer and leaned her head on his bicep, far too short to reach his shoulder.
“That sounds really awful,” she told him quietly. He made some noise of agreement, still trying to sort his feelings and memories.
His mother’s torture, fear, and tears into one box.
His own torture, so frequent and so painful, into another.
All the times he wrestled with the evil he committed, his terror and his hate towards himself and the others, into another.
And, as always, Granger’s screams into a final one.
“I didn’t want the Mark, Sadie.” That was such a relief to admit, a thing he hadn’t been able to voice or even think about for too long without death awaiting. “But I was an absolute prick about blood supremacy and I used to believe in it. I hated muggleborns and I used that word often. You should know that. I regret it, but I did.”
Sadie nodded thoughtfully. “Would you tell me? About the war? It...seems like I need to know.”
Shouldn’t there have been a committee or something to do this? Honestly. Someone, somewhere, was having a right laugh over giving the Death Eater the responsibility to tell the story of the Wizarding Wars to the first Slytherin muggleborn.
But he did. He told her the truth. All of it.
--
Astoundingly, Sadie plopped into her usual seat the following morning. Draco had to stop himself from furrowing his brow.
“You’re still here?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow at her. She paused in her scooping of eggs to her plate.
“Of course?” she answered with her voice rising at the end, as if it were inconceivable she’d be anywhere else for breakfast and couldn’t imagine why he was asking.
He blinked at her. Then bent down to eat his own eggs so she wouldn’t see his losing battle to keep the grin off his face.
“I heard there was some commotion in the common room last night while I was in the library,” she mentioned casually, and Draco felt a small surge of pride at the very Slytherin way she was framing her question.
He merely shrugged in reply.
“You’re also getting an excessive amount of glowers from the others this morning.”
He waved a hand. “What else is new?”
Sadie couldn’t fight the huge grin spreading across her face.
“I also got a very sincere apology from Burke this morning.”
“Did you now?”
Sadie giggled and returned to her breakfast and Draco did the same.
--
“Okay, so DRAGONS are real, that is insane, you realize that right?” she rambled at him as she skipped alongside him to keep up with his long strides. They were headed to the library as she had requested help on her homework and Draco, for all he was a salty curmudgeon, apparently had a weak spot for his little firstie. He could admit that now. And she didn’t usually ask for his time in the evenings since she studied and spent time with her little friends. So he didn’t mind giving her an hour.
It’s not like he had anything else to do anyways.
“They are awe-inspiring, I’ll admit,” he agreed. He couldn’t fathom a world where he didn’t know dragons were real, but even so he could admit if there were creatures as magnificent and huge as dragons that he suddenly learned existed, he’d be astounded too.
“You said your name means dragon, right? Have you met one?”
He nodded. His mother had taken him one summer to a dragon sanctuary to meet a baby dragon.
“Ugh that’s so cool. I want to meet one! Do they incinerate you on sight or are they tamed? Though I don’t know if I’d go pet a tamed lion, so maybe— “
She was cut off as they rounded a corner by Draco and another person’s loud “OOF” as they collided.
Draco gripped the arms of his assailant to keep her from falling or attacking, as the case may be. This seemed accidental, but he wouldn’t let anyone exert their vengeance on him where Sadie could be hurt.
“M-Malfoy?”
For goodness sake, he sighed as he met Granger’s chocolate brown eyes.
“Granger,” he intoned, straightening and helping her steady herself.
“Wait—Granger? You’re Hermione Granger!” Sadie asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands. Granger shifted her chaotic curls over her shoulder and warily looked at Sadie before breaking into a small smile.
“Um, yes?”
“Gryffindor’s Golden Girl, Muggleborn Princess, and Brightest Witch of Her Age Hermione Granger?” she repeated again, bouncing even more.
“Uh, well, not sure about all those titles, but yes, that’s me,” she agreed with an attempt at a smile that reflected more of a grimace as she glanced at Draco again.
Their bags had fallen open and parchment, books, and ink were scattered across the floor, so Draco dropped to his knees to gather it. He didn’t need to be causing Granger any wariness while Sadie met her new hero, deified in the girl’s mind since the day he’d told her the story of the wars.
“Ah, HI! My name’s Sadie Perkins, I’m the first Slytherin muggleborn, it’s SUCH an honor to meet you!!” she nearly squealed and he could hear Granger’s surprised chuckle.
“Oh, well, the pleasure is all mine, Sadie.”
Draco focused on sorting their things and deliberately ignored their conversation. After another minute he rose, both bags righted. Merlin, hers was heavy, had the witch never heard of a featherlight charm?
He cast it nonverbally then extended her bag to her. “Granger.”
She turned to look at him. Her curls were still wild but the weight from the length of her hair made them enticing rather than overwhelming. She’d regained some of the weight she’d been sorely lacking when he’d seen her at the Manor. She wasn’t pale, but her skin was sunkissed. She looked healthy, though just as exhausted as he was.
He tried to quickly commit her to memory. Maybe he could replace the image of her face contorted in pain with this one, where the witch had grown to be rather pretty and her bright eyes were inquisitive rather than desperate.
“Uh, thanks, Malfoy—wait did you—?”
But she was cut off as Draco brushed past her to the library.
He just barely heard Sadie tell her, “Don’t worry, he’s just like that. Could we meet sometime? Draco’s helping me with my arithmancy homework now…”
--
“There are more of you,” Draco commented bitingly, arching his eyebrow at the energetic little snake and her posse.
The Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw wilted under his glare but Sadie and the other Slytherin girl were nonplussed. Salazar, he was going soft.
“I’m not the only one having trouble flying! These are Indira, Marcus, and Ella,” she pointed to the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and other Slytherin respectively. “And I told them how you’d taught me after they saw how much better I was getting!”
“Did you really let Death Eaters into Hogwarts?” Indira asked.
Draco scowled. “Obviously,”
“But how? I thought there were anti-apparition wards,” she continued, apparently growing braver. He ignored Sadie whispering to Marcus asking what anti-apparition wards were.
Draco clenched his jaw. “I repaired a vanishing cabinet,” he bit out.
Marcus perked up at that. “I’d read that! That’s really clever magic, isn’t it? How’d you manage it?”
This time Draco turned a wide-eyed stare on the Ravenclaw, absolutely flummoxed.
“Of course it was clever,” Ella scoffed, “He’s a Slytherin, cunning is one of our core values.”
“Wicked,” Marcus muttered, “How long did it take you?”
“All of sixth year,” he finally managed, entirely baffled. Marcus nodded sagely for such a small person. He was shorter even than Sadie.
“Difficult magic, that,” was all he said.
Sadie clapped her hands. “So flying!”
--
Sadie arrived the following Tuesday with a puff of bright yellow on her shoulder.
“Sweet Salazar, what is that?”
She beamed at him. “Draco, meet Draco, my new pygmy puff!”
Draco blinked at her once. Twice. “You...named your absurd ball of fluff after me?”
She grinned at him. “He’s ornery like you! He chirps whenever he’s grumpy, but he’s still so cute!” she wriggled her fingers under its...chin? Stomach? It was a giant ball of fluff, did it even have anatomy?
“You’re cruel, little witch,” he glowered at her. This was fucking absurd. “Name him something else.”
“Nope, we’ve bonded!”
Draco groaned and rested his head on his arms. He’d barely slept last night from the dreams and he didn’t have the energy to fight her on this. He was already a pathetic laughingstock, so what? At least the frequency of the revenge hexes and such had gone down as the months wore on. He was down to once a week or so, and that was quite an accomplishment, but the glares never let up.
“Why do you even like those things?” he mumbled from his arm pillow.
“They’re like real life furbies!” she enthused and Draco decided pursuing the question of what a furby was would only end poorly, so he didn’t. Ella joined them, as had become fairly standard, and nabbed an orange. She greeted the two of them but never spoke much at breakfast, as she loathed mornings.
She more than made up for her quota of words after 10am, however.
“You seem particularly raccoon-like this morning, did you sleep okay?” Sadie asked him while she passed Ella the tea.
“Part of being evil, Sadie, it’s hard to sleep at night,” he told her, raising up to rub his eyes and force himself to eat more.
Sadie frowned. “You’re not evil, Draco.”
“On the contrary, that monstrosity of a creature is absolutely evil, it’s an abomination to nature.”
She laughed despite herself, “You knew what I meant, you grump!”
He put jam on a croissant then rose, “Perhaps, perhaps not,” he told her as he left for Ancient Runes. Ella grunted at him with a halfhearted wave.
--
“Okay, I need to tell you something, but first you have to promise not to freak out.”
Draco eyed Sadie warily. He was reading for Transfiguration out on the lake and he did not have the energy for “freaking out” or whatever that nonsense muggle phrase meant.
“Promise!”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I do not make promises I do not necessarily intend to keep. I will do my best not to do whatever constitutes ‘freaking out.’”
Sadie glared at him momentarily but relented.
“Okay, so I’ve made a new friend.”
“Thank Merlin,” he muttered and she glared at him.
“You love me and you know it. Anyway, it’s not exactly...traditional, and I need your help helping him!”
What in Salazar’s name was she talking about?
“Alright…” he said carefully, straightening. She nodded at him then stepped to the side, revealing a very small elf-like creature, perhaps reaching his knee. It almost looked like a baby house-elf, with big ears, though its head was shaped slightly differently, a touch taller than a house-elf’s.
Except...its eyes were bright yellow. House elves had all sorts of eye colors but not yellow. Yellow meant...
“Sweet Salazar, Sadie, is that an erkling!?” he nearly yelled as he grabbed her to him. The little creature yelped at the noise, big eyes going somehow wider.
“Draco! You said you wouldn’t freak!”
“Well, sod that, erklings eat children, Sadie! For Salazar’s sake, are you mad?”
“Nuh-uh,” came the squeaky voice of the erkling as Sadie asserted, “No! Reginald isn’t going to eat me!”
“REGINALD!” Draco yelled. He pulled at his hair for a moment before swiftly stunning the little creature. He fell with a flop.
“DRACO! You hurt him!” she shrieked, attempting to run toward him but he held her fast.
“I stunned him, he’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, will not be fine when ‘Reginald’ decides you’re bloody dinner!”
She stomped her foot as she crossed her arms. “He wouldn’t!”
Draco laughed darkly, “Oh yes, he would. Where did you even find him?”
“That is irrelevant to the situation at hand.”
“Irrelevant, my great aunt Walburga, it is entirely relevant!”
“He’s a BABY, Draco! Please!”
Draco stared at Sadie, who had done an about face and was looking up at him with her big, doleful eyes and her adorable little buns. Her lower lip was stuck out just slightly in a pout.
“You conniving little snake,” he muttered. He saw her lips twitch but she maintained the cute, pleading look.
“This is a terrible idea, absolutely not,” he insisted, despite his internally rattled will. No need to let her know how effective that look was.
Alas, patience was not one of Sadie’s virtues and she dropped her front and sighed. “But he’s so sweet, Draco! He’s just misunderstood; he wouldn’t eat me!”
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at her naivete. “Erklings literally eat children, Sadie!”
“I’m not a child,” she muttered and Draco stared her down, causing Sadie to wilt slightly.
“Really? You’re what, one meter tall?”
She straightened up, affronted. “One and a half , thank you very much!”
“Whatever. Now where did you find this thing?”
“He’s not a thing, he’s Reginald,”
“Salazar’s sagging ballsack,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Reginald needs to go back where he came from, so you need to tell me where you found him,”
“No!” she stomped her foot again. Draco narrowed his eyes at her until she relented slightly.
“The Forbidden Forest,” she finally acquiesced and Draco saw red.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed!? It’s forbidden for a reason, Perkins! Merlin, there are so many more monsters in there now after the war and you just traipsed in and adopted an erkling who would suck on your arm like a lolly once it’d ripped it off your corpse?”
He hadn’t noticed he’d begun pacing but he was, and wildly gesticulating with his hands at that. His father would beat him bloody for his lack of composure but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“For the record, this is the exact definition of freaking out,’” she informed him sourly.
“Well, attempting to adopt monster babies who will eat you is a freak out worthy offense,” he spat back.
He tugged at his hair again. “Merlin,” he swore, then sighed. “Where have you been keeping him?”
“He likes to sleep near the thestral paddock so I go out there and visit him.”
“Then let him go back there when he wakes and we’ll discuss this inside,” he said. Their outdoor visits were getting less and less pleasant as the Scottish weather grew cooler and he intended on giving her a lengthy lecture.