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Day: 115

The next time he visits, he places a silver ring down on the table. Her head snaps up, watching him stand frozen on the other side. His silver eyes darken as she examines the words carved into the metal, "Why is your birthday on this ring?"

His features are cold, and his mouth twitches, but all he replies with is, "Blood Magic, keep it and don't take it off."

Before she can nod, he's gone.

Day: 116

When he returns the next day, she searches his eyes. They always speak the truth. His eyes tell the story. So when the silver meets her brown ones, she suddenly worries from the weary look ridden in the corners, the tinge of sadness that has dilated his pupils, and the look of misery that overshines against his structured features, "Your mother is sick- There's a curse in the dark mark, and it's killing her. But I promise you I will research to fix this. I will fix this. There is a cure."

The vast information Draco's sprung onto her immediately makes her eyes water. The woman who raised her has yet to tell her about a poison secreting deep inside her veins.

One that will end many lives.

"Did Voldermort do this because he wants his followers to remain faithful even after his death?"

His eyes flicker, and he turns his head to the side, gulping. Esme shakes her head, scoffing loudly. "She wasn't involved with him. She never wanted to be a death eater, And this is what she gets. We came here for her work, for her job. And everywhere we go, he follows her like a reminder."

And then she pauses because it suddenly clicked. The moving. The immediate request to jump halfway across the world for a new job. A place for answers.

"No." She shakes her head because the realization of the truth hits her like a ton of bricks.

"She's been researching a way to find a cure. To stop the poison, right?"

He's still gazing away, looking out towards the beach, "Yes."

"This entire time I should have known. What begins with the creator ends with the follower."

Esme mind immediately goes into planning mode. It's a consent rush of thoughts that organize into a bookshelf. Each book has a subject, a topic that remains in her mind, and once she fills that book it shuts, implanting it into a deep part of her mind. Luckily because of being a natural occlumens, it's become easier to conquer and divide between what needs to be done and the list that continues to grow.

"I can see that mind of yours planning, and just stop."

"She's my mother. Do you honestly expect me to give up? That's some ridiculous notion you have there. Aren't you Slytherins supposed to be ambitious," she shoots at him, the anger boiling inside of her from the lack of sympathy he has.

"Then quit your stupid Ravenclaw notion of always being curious for new answers. There is none. You will not be involved in this."

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

Draco stands taller, his posture fixtures into a marble statue. His jaw ticks and she can see him clenching it in frustration from her line of sight. He grits his teeth together sharply, "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. The silver sweeps deep inside her, a lurking worry evident in his tone, "Stay out of this."

He turns to leave, but she opens her mouth, "And what about you huh? You're a death eater as well. You have the same curse, is that correct?"

"Clever as always." And she can picture the smirk on his face.

Ineffable. [D. Malfoy]Where stories live. Discover now