Call Me Psyche - Dramione

21

The morning Hermione was toasting her marriage at breakfast with Bill and Fleur, Draco went back to Andromeda's cottage to prepare for his visit with Headmaster Snape to see how his parents were getting on since he refused the Dark Lord's call. Andromeda turned the concealment wand on him, casting a Disillusionment Spell so perfect he may as well have been under Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak.

"Everyone thinks I'm dead? Really?" Draco marveled as Tonks held out the jar of Floo powder in the general direction of his voice.

"Yeah, they read your name on the casualties list over the radio last night," she said. "So if anyone notices you, act like a ghost."

"Right," he said, his mind reeling with the implications of his being dead, especially for his parents.

"Don't fuss over all of that yet," Andromeda said. "Concentrate on making a safe visit and coming home. Hermione will be here tonight, won't she? Make that your guiding star. Off you go."

Stars bless Aunt Andromeda. She had been openly relieved when he'd given the concealment wand back to her that morning. It showed Draco how difficult it must have been for her to lend it, and for his mother to send him her healing wand, and how rabid Bellatrix must be to get her battle wand back. All witches hated to lose their wands, but the Sororal Triad wands were different – dangerous.

As expected, Crabbe and Goyle were guarding the Hogwarts Floo when Draco arrived, their backs to the flames as they scowled outward at the students crossing the Entrance Hall. Invisible, Draco charged between them, green flames flaring as he dashed over the hearth and out of their reach. They stumbled forward, beating out the embers smoldering on the hems of their robes, snarling and blaming one another.

Draco didn't look back, dashing toward the Headmaster's tower office. He could hear Crabbe howling for Filch, threatening him about the malfunctioning Floo.

Draco threaded his way between the students hurrying past, all of them keen on not bearing the brunt of Crabbe and Goyle's tantrum. Students didn't meander and linger through the corridors like they used to. There was a tense, rushed kind of fearful order.

Still, Draco heard someone whispering, "All I'm saying is that if the Malfoys can't keep their only child safe and alive, what chance is there for the rest of us? It's too dangerous. It's the wrong – "

"Shut up, they'll hear you."

Arriving breathless at the door to Snape's office, Draco rapped hard on the wood. Inside, the spiral staircase grated into place and Snape himself swooped through the door and into the corridor, his lips pursed, his eyes wide and dark. Draco slipped past him, creeping up the stairs to the office as quickly and silently as he could before Snape twirled once in the corridor and swooped back inside.

It was time to be a ghost.

There was a large mirror hung in a heavy gold frame over the fireplace. Draco fogged it with his breath and wrote his own name on the glass with his finger. The word was fading quickly and Snape had yet to look at it, standing over his desk, flipping through parchments. Ghostlike, Draco nudged a thick, dusty book off the mantlepiece, letting it slap loudly against the floor.

Snape froze, his eyes tracking toward the noise in time to see the puff of dust rising from the book's pages. With a flick almost too fast to see, his wand was drawn. He read aloud in a whisper.

"Draco."

Draco kept still, minding where Snape's wand was aimed. In another burst of speed, Snape vaulted over the back of a sofa, standing at the mirror, rubbing the name off the glass with his sleeve.

"Here, sir," Draco said, so quietly and close to Snape's ear that none of the portraits or anyone else spying in this space could hear.

Snape splayed his fingers, reaching toward Draco's whisper. Draco reached back, linking their little fingers. Snape sucked in a sharp breath but kept silent, leading Draco into his inner office. The door slammed and Snape grasped Draco's hand, feeling up the length of his arm, to his shoulder.