Not Slytherin (Drarry)

Chapter 23

The summer that followed was... horrible. There was no other way to describe it. There was clear tension between father and son, so much so that even the house-elves (who normally tried to keep out of their master's business) noticed. Draco kept himself cooped up in the family library while Lucius was out doing who knows what, who knows where. And frankly, Draco didn't care what his father was doing. The feelings of rage and stinging betrayal were all that accompanied thoughts of his father nowadays.

Narcissa, try as she might, could not help them get over it. However, much to Draco's relief, she did not, in fact, know of the diary. It seemed that was another thing Lucius had lied about.

The only highlight of his summer was when he got owls from Harry, Ron and Hermione. Sometimes, he could even firecall the Weasley's. His father sneered and scoffed every time he saw the familiar ginger hair in the fireplace but didn't comment on it. Sometimes, Draco thought Lucius might feel guilty of what he did. Sometimes, Draco found that he didn't give a fuck. Other times, it was nice to see him actually showing remorse for something.

And so, when the day to go to Diagon Alley finally arrived, everyone in the Malfoy household - even the house-elves - breathed a gigantic sigh of relief. Lucius had given Draco an even larger amount of money than usual. After all, the man had too much pride to simply apologize.

"Be back before dark," was all Lucius had said before he abandoned Draco in the middle of Diagon Alley with nothing but a pouch of gold and a list of what he needed for the year.

And there Draco stood, with no idea of what he was supposed to be doing, where he was supposed to go first, or where his friends were.

"Draco Malfoy," someone called, and he was saved of the horrible fate of wandering around Diagon Alley all alone looking for someone he knew. He looked back, expecting to see one of his friends, maybe Ron or Hermione. Probably Harry. He was the one who normally got lost.

But it wasn't any of them. Instead, it was Professor Trelawney. Damn. He should've known from how airy and eccentric the voice sounded. He always wondered why her voice was like that; it couldn't have been because she was a Seer. Draco was a Seer and he sure as hell didn't talk like that.

"Professor Trelawney." He inclined his head respectively.

Trelawney gave him a small smile. "There is much we must talk of, child," she said softly. Then again, everything she said sounded soft. He wondered if she was capable of yelling.

But the question had gotten his attention. "What of, Professor?" He asked, genuinely confused and worried at the same time. Had something happened?

"Nothing is wrong," she said, reading his thoughts. Wait, could she actually do that?

"I merely have a... request." She hesitated at the last part, as if looking for the right word.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't see how he could say no. He didn't even know what she wanted, but from the look on her face, he didn't think it was anything good. But Trelawney was always harder to read than most people. She always looked far away, like Lovegood.

"Yes, Professor?" He asked.

She looked around pointedly. "I think that we should talk about this in private. Unless you want a man with a purple hat finding out your secret in 7 minutes." She said the last part in a daze.

Draco frowned. "Of course," he said, motioning to one of the shops he knew no one ever went to. It was fairly new anyways. People tended not to visit new shops around here. Not when they could go places they were familiar with.

They both walked over to the small shop that sold mostly books and trinkets. It was clearly a small business that was run by someone with no ambition. His thoughts were only solidified when he saw the man who ran the place. He looked defeated and looked like he couldn't care less what they were doing, only rattling off something that was clearly rehearsed in the most monotone voice possible.