Chapter Text
Hogwarts Castle
5 November 1997
The silence was about to drive him mad.
Draco stood just outside the door to Genevieve’s dormitory, just as he had for the past ten minutes; fidgeting in place, debating, huffing, and changing his mind every few seconds.
The past few days had been hell without her, and it was no one’s fault but his own. Again. He was painfully aware of that fact.
He’d watched her attend classes, alternating between sitting with Daphne, Blaise, & Theo, or Potter and his sidekicks. They’d all made up again, it seemed, but Genevieve looked worse than she had prior to their latest fight. Her smiles were so obviously forced, and yet no one ever called her out for it. No one asked her what was wrong. He watched her pick at meals in the Great Hall, or hide herself away in the library when she wasn’t locked up inside her dormitory. She was pale, dull-eyed, and decidedly not herself. Every interaction had seemed so forced. It was odd considering her tendency to bolt and hide when conflict arose.
So now here he was, fighting against his own pride just to be able to enter the room. It was utterly ridiculous for him to be acting this way, he knew. It shouldn’t have been that difficult to just go in and apologise for reacting like a complete bellend. But for him, it was.
Once Draco finally had enough of his own hesitation, he huffed another harsh breath and gripped the door knob. Her wards accepted him easily; a good sign, he thought. Upon actually laying eyes on the room, a number of things concerned him.
The first thing he noticed was the state of her room. In the few blissful weekends they’d spent together here, they had unpacked the rest of her things and finished decorating. Posters of her favourite bands that Draco was loath to admit he secretly enjoyed himself, pictures of her parents and godfathers, her favourite books, amongst other trinkets. Now the stone walls were all barren again, and her bed was neatly made. It looked clinical; staged. Like his witch didn’t even live there anymore.
Then Draco’s eyes drifted to find her. Genevieve stood at her desk, her back to him as she stirred a bubbling pewter cauldron. Vials—some empty and some already filled and labeled— sat in a stand to her left, while a cutting board and knife laid on her right, littered with trimmings from different ingredients. She didn’t react at all to his unannounced presence, and he could see how tightly her shoulders were drawn up. Whether with focus or tension, he wasn’t sure. He noticed a glint of silver then—the watch he’d given her still on her wrist—and Draco was even more conflicted.
He wrestled with what to say for a time; if he should say hello, or try teasing her in the hopes of lightening the mood between them. In the end, it wasn’t even his choice, because his feet gravitated towards her of their own accord. He felt like he might go mad if he didn’t touch her again.
As Draco approached, Genevieve remained intently focused on her cauldron, moving the stirrer in slow counterclockwise motions without even sparing him a glance. Again, he was unsure if that was a good or bad sign. He tried his luck anyway, and his hands found purchase on her hips. His fingers wrapped around the bones, making a conscious effort not to dig them in too harshly as his thumbs began rubbing slowly against the soft material of her pants.
Still no reaction from her, so Draco probed further. He craned his neck down, bending to meet her height and hooking his chin over her shoulder. He looked down at the pale blue liquid swirling in the cauldron. A healing draught, he assumed. Likely to replenish the Order’s supply, knowing her bleeding heart. He tried to tilt his head to see her eyes, but her curls were being particularly unruly today, hanging in a tangled curtain and shielding her face from view. He sighed after a moment and let his chest press up against her back, arms slipping around to hold her closer.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment now?”
No answer, which was an answer in itself.
Draco closed his eyes and let out a long breath through his nose before nuzzling his face into her hair. He inhaled the warm, sweet scent as he thought of what to try next. He’d never attempted coaxing or sweet talk with her before, but he didn’t think it could hurt much to try. Especially if she was allowing him to touch her like this.
“You know,” he said, dropping his voice to a soft rumble just behind her ear. “You make a very enticing potion mistress.”
Silence answered him; only the quiet scraping of the stirrer against metal.
“I’m serious,” he continued as he ran the tip of his nose against the shell of her ear. “Especially in these— what did you call them? Yoga pants, right?” He braved a brush of his lips against her neck after; not quite a kiss, but not nothing.
Genevieve shrugged her shoulder then, jostling his head as she grew more tense in his hold. “Sod off, Malfoy. I’m not in the mood.”
Draco frowned at her frigid tone. It wasn’t like he’d expected her to welcome him back with open arms, especially after the subject matter of their tiff. But she’d allowed him through her wards, and the door had been unlocked. She’d let him touch her up to now, yet she was telling him to go away. She was being difficult and stubborn, per usual, but Draco was not going to let that deter him.
“But I think you are,” he murmured, tone soft and teasing. A real kiss against her skin. “You would’ve locked me out otherwise.”
Before he could even process what was happening, Genevieve had dropped the stirrer with a clank onto the worktop, grabbing his wrist from its spot against her abdomen and twisting it just past its natural bend. He hissed and released her, but words were stolen from him by how quickly she’d done it. It was the first time he’d seen her use self defense, even if it was a small display.
It was mildly arousing.
“I said I’m not in the mood.” She bit out before picking up her stirrer and dipping it back into the cauldron, resuming her work as if that was the end of the conversation. Draco felt his pride bristle in response.
“What, you want to have it out again?” He sneered, the softness gone from his voice as he raised his hands in the air. “Let’s go, then. Get on with it. Curse me for all I’m worth. I know you want to.”
He heard a small sigh come from her, and he watched her curls rustle as she shook her head. There was no response, and that only made his anger rise further.
“If you think ignoring me is going to make me change my mind, then you’ve got another thing coming—”
“I’m not trying to change your mind.” Genevieve replied, her tone quiet and dull. He knew then she was occluding without even seeing her eyes.
“Then what is it you want, Vieve?” He asked gruffly. “You want an apology? Fine. I was a dickhead about it, but that doesn’t change—”
“I don’t want an apology.”
Draco looked heavenward and suppressed a groan. It was maddening trying to deal with any witch when you’d wronged them, and he knew that. Growing up with Daphne and Astoria had made him an expert at dealing with it, in fact. But this was not any witch— it was his witch, and he hadn’t the faintest idea of what else to try to win her back.
“You aren’t being fair,” he huffed finally, deciding that perhaps honesty might earn him pity points, at the very least. “I’ve complimented you, kissed you, attempted to apologise— what more do you want? Sweets? Flowers? A necklace— fuck, I’ll buy you an entire jewlery shop if it’ll get you to look at me.”
The silence and distance lingered, and it was beginning to drive Draco mad again. He didn’t need a reminder that it was the consequence of his own actions. He had left, but he was back now. He was doing everything he could think to get back into her good graces, but there was a stone wall at every turn, and he was ready to lose it. His hand was outstretched, reaching to turn her round to face him when she spoke.
“I’m leaving.” Flat and emotionless. As if those two words weren’t going to send him into a blind panic.
Draco blinked. Staggered back a step. Blinked again. Took in a breath, after reminding himself to.
“What?”
“I’m leaving,” Genevieve repeated, her voice quieter now. He thought he heard a waver in it, but he couldn’t be sure. “This Saturday, before dawn.” A pause. “I don’t know if— when I’ll be back.”
If . He didn’t miss that misstep, and it terrified him to his core.
No. No, no, no. he thought. I just got you back. I just got you back.
There was a thick lump forming in his throat, and he tried to swallow it down to no avail. His whole body felt cold; with fear, he realised. All of his pride melted away then, and he regretted it all; every last thing he’d said. He wished more than anything to be able to extract the words from her mind and to cast them off into the deepest chasm he could find. “If this is about what I said the other night—”
“No,” she interjected quickly, shaking her head. She’d stopped stirring, but she still wasn’t facing him. “It isn’t about you.”
“ Bollocks ,” he tried to scoff, but his voice broke on the word, and his eyes stung. “You’re lying. Nothing has changed except that. Why else would you want to leave?”
“I don’t want to, Malfoy.” She sighed, and the absence of emotion in her voice was unraveling him even faster. “I have to. It— isn’t up to me.”
An assignment then, or something close to it. He could work with that; either convince her not to go, or somehow sabotage her leaving. “If you don’t want to leave, then you’re not going.” he said firmly, shaking his head as if that would banish the thought from her mind. “You aren’t going.”
Another sigh, and he could feel her resignation in it. “I am. I have to.”
“Where are they sending you? Why can’t you tell me how long?” Draco pressed, trying with all he had not to let the panic constricting his ribs bleed into his voice. “You’ve never left for more than a few days’ time. Why would it be longer?”
He watched as she moved to lean against the desk in front of her, bracing her weight on the furniture as her dainty fingers gripped the edge. His gaze was set on those fingers; ones he was expected to live without the touch of for an unspecified amount of time. Weeks. Months, perhaps. He didn’t think he could stomach the thought. He wasn’t sure if he remembered how to fall asleep without feeling them tracing patterns on his skin.
“I can’t— I’m not supposed to tell you.” Genevieve said at length, and he definitely heard a waver in her voice now. “I shouldn’t have even told you I was leaving.”
“What— you were just going to up and leave?” He scoffed in disbelief. “Without saying a word to me?”
“It isn’t up to me—”
“No. No! Fuck that!” He spat, and he knew he shouldn’t have been raising his voice at her, but there was no controlling it. “Fuck that. We don’t keep things from each other! I’ve told you so many things. You’ve told me about your missions before. Why can’t you now?”
The silence fell again, and he heard her swallow. Heard a shaky breath, and it felt like a knife slowly piercing his heart, sliding over the bone of his ribs. He looked to the ceiling and forced himself to take another breath before he spoke, his tone gentler.
“Genevieve, I need you to look at me.”
A few more moments passed before she turned. A hand lifted to her face before it came into view, likely to wipe at tears that had sprung loose. The sight of her devastated him. She stood there, barely containing her own emotion. The deep blue of her eyes was visible in fissures, the rest a deep charcoal; her mental walls straining to remain in place. It reminded him of shattered china.
“I can’t tell you.” She choked quietly, blinking back tears as she shook her head again. “I just can’t, and I’m sorry. I only let you in because— I knew you would think it was your fault, and I needed you to know it isn’t. I promise it isn’t.”
Draco watched her for another moment before closing the distance between them. He couldn’t bear to see her like that any longer. He wrapped her up in his arms, pressing her frame into his until they were chest to chest. To his astonishment, Genevieve didn’t push back. She melted into him as if she couldn’t stand to carry herself any longer. He held her as tightly as he could, squeezing her against him while she sniffled quietly. He would’ve crushed her if he wasn’t afraid of hurting her.
“You aren’t going,” he whispered. He dipped his nose into the crown of her curls, inhaling the vanilla and cardamom scent with a renewed appreciation and committing it to memory. “I won’t let you. Who do I need to speak to?”
“Malfoy—”
“Don’t. I will handle it,” he hushed, his tone firm but far from unkind. “Just tell me where they’re trying to send you.”
Genevieve tilted her head, resting her forehead against his chest and taking several shaking breaths in an attempt to calm herself. He rubbed his hands up and down her back through the hooded jumper she was wearing to soothe her. When she still hadn’t answered after a minute, he prompted her again.
“I’m not asking. You will either tell me, or I will get the information for myself.”
Draco could practically hear her thinking; the internal debate and struggle emanating in waves from her mind to his until she opened her mouth.
“The horcruxes.” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s sending me after them.”
Absolutely the fuck not.
“You will not be going.” He said with finality. There was no question about it in his mind.
“I have to,” she said. Her tone was so resigned that Draco wanted to scream. “You don’t understand all of it. There’s so much more to it than just me.”
“Explain it to me then.” He demanded, his voice still low but no less insistent as Genevieve lifted her eyes to meet his.
After more internal struggle, she did. She explained every facet of the arrangement to him; the failings of the current team, the hoax mission that Potter, Granger, and Weasley were being sent on, how her assignment to the task came about. When she confessed Dumbledore’s illegal use of a timeturner, he almost thought she’d finally snapped and this was all some manic theory she’d concocted. But the conviction in her voice and the way it all spilled out of her like she’d been bursting with it for the past few days made it clear that she was being genuine. When she finished, staring up at him expectant and teary eyed, there was only one thing he could think to say in response.
“I’ll go with you.” No doubts, or questions about any of the absurd information she’d told him. Bluntly spoken and simple, because it was.
Genevieve blinked in surprise, and he watched the bewilderment and confusion bleed across her soft features. “What?”
“I will go with you.”
“No, no, I heard you,” she scoffed, eyes searching his as if trying to locate his common sense. She would find none, he knew. “You can’t go with me. Are you mad?”
“And why not?” He knew why not. It didn’t matter.
“Because—” she sputtered. “Because you can’t ! Dumbledore would never allow it. And you said yourself that you didn’t want to join the Order.”
“That was before.” He said simply. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“ Changed your mind? ” She repeated, growing more incredulous by the moment. “This isn’t something you do on a whim, Malfoy. It’s dangerous—“
“Which is exactly why I’m going with you,” he cut in. “You aren’t going on your own, end of.”
Genevieve looked up at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly gobsmacked. “What of the dark lord? You don’t think anyone will notice when you’re gone for weeks— perhaps months on end? You can’t come. You’re being delusional.”
“Let me worry about that.” Draco replied, his tone sure even though she wasn’t wrong. It was an impulsive decision, but he’d be damned before he let her go off on her own to do something so dangerous. “All you need to worry about is setting up a meeting with Dumbledore and whoever else I need to speak to about joining.”
Her eyes searched his face again, irises still marbled with charcoal amidst the endless blue as her shoulders drooped in defeat. “Malfoy—“
Draco lifted his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks between palms in a firm but gentle grip. He needed her to hear him clearly. “I am going with you, Vieve. You are not doing this on your own. What part of ‘end of discussion’ wasn’t clear to you?”
Genevieve just stared up at him, and he wasn’t sure if the look that was coming over her face was resignation or awe. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, because the damnable grey was finally bleeding away from her eyes, leaving behind the familiar pools of sapphire he’d missed.
“Alright.” She murmured finally, her tone softer than it had been this entire time. “I’ll speak to Dumbledore, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
He smirked despite himself and the situation, his thumbs drifting absently over the soft skin on her cheekbones. “I don’t give a fuck what that old codger has to say. Nothing and no one is keeping me from going with you.”
He didn’t miss the way her lips twitched, fighting to keep from showing amusement. “You’re impossible.”
“ Incorrigible ,” Draco corrected, his lips pulling wider as he watched a true smile form on her face. Gods , how he’d missed seeing that. “And I’ve already gone against everything else I believed in for you. What’s one more on the ledger?”
Genevieve rolled her eyes and gave his chest a half-hearted push before tucking herself back into him again. He accepted her readily, slipping his arms back around her middle and resting his chin on the top of her head. There was much to be discussed still, he knew. Not only about the horcrux hunt itself, but about how he would manage to avoid his responsibilities as a Death Eater while traipsing around the country with her.
But all of that could come later, he decided. For the moment, he was going to hold his witch as tightly as he could and leave the scheming to future him.
“ Bloody hell — he lives! The prodigal son has returned!” Theo cried out, feigning a swoon as Draco strode into their shared dormitory the following evening.
In the spirit of honesty, Draco did not want to be back in that room. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his mates— his brothers, for all intents and purposes. It was just that there was a very lovely girl a few walls away, steadfastly brewing potions and packing necessities, and he would have very much liked to have been with her instead. He could just see Genevieve in his mind’s eye; nose scrunched in concentration, sporting that adorable little pout and muttering her endless mental lists to herself in the most endearing way as she stirred yet another vat of liquid, or tucked items into expanded bags.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and tossed Nott a lazy smirk. “You saw me in class not even two hours ago, Theo.”
Theo’s lips pulled into a roguish grin as he reclined back onto his pillow again, and the blonde could practically hear Blaise’s eyeroll even without looking.
“Right, but I meant that you’ve returned to the dorm,” the curly headed boy said, looking none too surreptitiously over Draco’s form as if checking for evidence of a trist. “Where’ve you been, lover boy?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Draco sighed, shaking his head as he walked over to his four poster and sat down on the duvet. His eyes drifted over to Blaise, who was leaned back against his headboard, holding a book with one hand and the other folded behind his head. “No commentary from you, Blaise?”
“I’m happy for you.” Zabini drawled in a monotone voice, not even bothering to look up as he reached to turn a page, which earned a snort from the blonde.
Theo’s expression grew petulant as he fixed the umber haired boy with a scowl from across the room. “Oi, you fucking knob jockey. You said you would help me wind him up!”
Blaise’s gaze lifted lazily to Nott, and he arched a brow as his book hung loosely from his grip. “I never actually agreed to that. In fact, I don’t believe I even responded to you.”
The curly haired boy huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, adopting a more petulant look, if that were even possible. “No one ever lets me have any fun around here,” he muttered as he looked off to the side. “This castle is a bleeding prison.”
Draco suppressed his amusement, only cracking a small smile as he kicked off his shoes. With Theo silently pouting and Blaise going back to reading his book, the reason he was in the dorm in the first place came back to the forefront of his mind, and he felt his nerves beginning to set in as he grappled for how to go about starting the conversation.
He’d given everything a lot of thought the night before while Genevieve slept with her head on his chest. He stared at the ceiling for hours on end, his mind running wild as his fingers traced absent patterns over her soft skin. The plot he’d come up with was extremely risky, and utterly foolish, he knew. But, unfortunately, it was the best strategy he had to work with. If he were being honest, he was banking on the simplicity and juvenility of it to pay off, as he was fairly sure it would fly under the radar. It was just mad enough to have a chance.
“I— need to talk to you.”
The words were out before Draco could think of a more sly or eloquent way to introduce the topic, and he found himself with two pairs of eyes flicking to him. “Both of you.” He clarified.
Theo sat up slowly in his seat, his dramatics forgotten as his eyes searched his brother’s face, likely gauging how serious of a conversation they were about to have. Blaise had put his book down on the bed and was watching expectantly, obviously waiting for the blonde to elaborate. He reached for words that he couldn’t string into a sentence before giving up and taking a deep breath instead.
“Oh. I know what this is,” Theo sighed, earning curious looks from the other two as he continued in a dismissive tone. “Look, mate, you don’t want advice from either of us about this. We all know the dumpster fire that is my love life right now, and Mister Stone Face over there isn’t exactly an expert either—”
Draco’s eyes widened immediately, and he was already shaking his head. “What? I— no, Theo, that’s not— not even close to what I was about to say.” He rushed out quickly, already feeling his heart rate spike, much to his dismay. “I’m not in love.”
Theo and Blaise exchanged a look— a brief, slight raising of the brows that was gone before the blonde could even call them out on it. Zabini cleared his throat and shut the book laying face up on his own duvet. “Alright. What did you need to talk to us about?”
Draco didn’t have the mental wherewithal to even attempt unpacking that interaction, so he decided to save the attempt for another day. He took another breath before beginning.
“I would like to state some things before I tell you both this. For the record.” Two nods answered him, and so he continued on, forcing the words out in a confident tone. “First, I am aware that it will sound like I’ve completely gone round the bend. Second, I haven’t. Third, I need you both to let me finish before you start spouting off questions or shouting or— whatever else.” He gave a meaningful look to Nott during the last sentence.
Theo pursed his lips but seemed to decide against trying to defend himself. “Right, agreed. Let’s hear it.”
And so Draco relayed every bit of information the prior day had brought, starting off with telling them that Genevieve was to leave on the hunt for the horcruxes. He’d said it bluntly, knowing no other way to say it, and he watched the fear and urge to argue rise on each of their faces. He continued on detailing the argument that ensued after between them, finally ending on his decision to join her and the Order, if that was what it took to keep her safe. Once he finished, Theo was staring at him, face pale and harrowed, and Blaise was sitting at the edge of his mattress, head in his hands.
“I know you, erm— I know you said all of those things, before you started,” Theo began, breaking the silence first. “But, just a quick question for you— have you gone stark-raving-mad?”
Draco sighed and gave the curly haired boy an unamused look. “No. I haven’t gone mad.”
“You do realise that this will be impossible, yes?” Blaise said, lifting his face from his hands to reveal an exhausted expression. “I don’t disagree that it’s too dangerous for Genevieve to be sent on her own, but there is no way for you to go along without the Dark Lord knowing. An absence will not be tolerated.”
“I’m aware,” he said wearily, dragging a hand down his face. “Which is where you two come in.”
Theo gave an incredulous look, glancing back and forth between the two other boys before pointing to his chest. “Us two? What the hell do we have to do with any of this?”
Draco swallowed around the knot of nerves in his throat, trying to will the words to come out. It was such a terrible feeling for him, putting those he loved in danger. He’d always been the protector; the one who lied their way out of things, the one who shielded them and took all the blame for his own. He had always known that there would come a time when the war would truly begin, and he would not be able to watch over them all. He didn’t want this to be the time. He wasn’t ready for it, but time never did wait.
“I’ve come up with a plan, of sorts.” He stated. He hoped that if he kept his voice even enough, it would hide his fear. “To avoid any suspicion.”
Both boys watched him warily but didn’t speak, so Draco continued. “I can’t miss any summons, but I won’t be able to leave Genevieve behind to go to them. Seeing as I can’t be in two places at once, I think polyjuice could work. Genevieve has some already made, and if I left enough hair behind, you could continue brewing it while I’m gone—”
“You want one of us to pose as you? ” Theo sputtered, utterly gobsmacked. “That— it’s a death wish! Do you know what he would do to us if we were caught? To you and Genevieve?”
Draco felt a dull pain in his chest at the thought, and he nodded solemnly. “I know. I know the risks, but I see no other way. I can’t leave her on her own. I don’t want to ask this of either of you, but I have to.”
Theo dragged a hand down his face and took a deep breath, but Draco’s attention was stolen by Blaise. He watched his stocky frame lift from his four poster and turn towards the door, and his eyes widened. “Wait— where are you going?”
The dark haired boy turned and looked over his shoulder. “To get the girls, obviously.” He said tersely. “We’ve got about as good a chance as a pixie in a room full of kneazles without them.”
In a similar fashion to how the three boys had gathered previously, the Greengrass sisters and Genevieve were brought back into the dormitory by Blaise a few minutes later. Daphne took a seat on Theo’s bed, and Astoria on Blaise’s. Genevieve, much to Draco’s eternal delight, chose to sit with him on his own four poster, folding her legs beneath herself to the left of him. After regaling them all with the details once more, the three girls gave similar reactions to the two boys.
“Have you lost your mind?” Daphne had exclaimed, wide eyed and almost angry.
“I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Astoria had started in her soft voice, already shaking her head before Genevieve chimed in.
“It’s out of the question.” She stated firmly as she turned to look at Draco. “I can’t allow this. Not on my account.”
“It’s not a question anymore,” Blaise answered calmly, drawing everyone’s gaze to him. “Draco is going with you, and we are going to help. The reason I brought the three of you in here is to figure out the how.”
Draco was silently grateful for his interjection, and he watched as the curly-haired witch beside him pursed her lips to keep from arguing further. The tension in the air was palpable, but it seemed each of the girls had realised that nothing they said was going to get through to them.
“My plan is polyjuice,” Draco said to the room at large, but his eyes were on Genevieve. “If I leave enough hair behind, it should hold you all over while we’re gone.”
“But how will we know if you’re summoned?” Theo questioned. “We can’t very well duplicate your Mark, can we?”
“I’ll leave behind my ring.” He answered. He slipped off the band of braided silver his mother had given him on his sixteenth birthday, holding it up for them to see. “I can charm it to send a signal, connect it to one of the others. It would alert you seconds after my Mark burns.”
A series of nods followed his words, all except Daphne. She was frowning at him, obviously wanting to argue or poke holes in his plot. She would’ve done it no matter what he said, he knew. “And if one of us is meant to be summoned with you?” She asked, her tone just this side of biting. “How do you suppose we get out of something like that?”
Draco sighed and slipped the ring back onto his finger, waiting a beat before answering. “I’ll leave a few behind, all with the same enchantments,” he explained in an even tone, and upon seeing Daphne’s frown deepen, he continued. “This is the best I’ve been able to come up with. I don’t like it any more than the rest of you, and I assure you, I am open to suggestions.”
The room fell silent after that, and he watched each of his brothers and sisters avert their gazes to laps or stone floors. Normally, Draco would’ve felt a twinge of satisfaction knowing he’d come up with an idea so clever that no one could dispute it, but this time he was silently begging for one of them to speak up. To offer an alternative; a way that ensured all of their safety. It never came.
“I’ll do it,” Blaise was the first to speak, and the blonde turned to find his expression firm and resolute. “I’ll take the majority of them, whenever I can.” Astoria’s eyes widened with something like fear, but she didn’t speak up.
“I will, too.” Daphne said next, just as certain. “We’ll take it in turns. I’m the better actress anyway.” Her smirk after was just slightly sad, and Draco did not miss the way she refused to look towards her younger sister.
“So will I.” Theo added a beat after. He still looked nervous about the entire thing, but the determination he was summoning to just say the words both filled Draco with pride and gutted him all at once. “Whatever keeps us all safe and ends this entire fuck fest.”
And with that, it was decided. Draco both felt like a weight had been lifted from him, and yet as if a new one had been laid in its place. As he looked over the faces of his small family, all ready to risk their lives for Genevieve and for him, he sent up a silent plea to any gods that may have been listening.
Just let them live. That is all I ask.
“That’s it, then.” He breathed out. “I’ll have the charms on the rings by Friday night, at the latest. We’ll be gone before dawn the next morning.”
Draco glanced to Genevieve after, expecting her to have something to say, but her deep blue eyes were trained across the way. He followed her gaze to see that Astoria’s eyes were filled with tears, and Blaise’s expression beside her had grown unreadable. Daphne’s eyes seemed misty too, despite her efforts to hide it. Thankfully, Theo was the one to speak next before anyone could devolve into hysterics.
“Well,” The curly haired boy sighed as he reached down into his bedside table, only to pull out two bottles of Ogden’s with a smirk. “Guess we had better make the most of the time we’ve got left, huh?”