protegere: to protect, to defend, to save
———
ELARA would've collapsed to her knees if Draco hadn't reached out, one arm belting around her back.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other, barely daring to breathe, their eyes locked. She could feel his heart thundering against her palm.
And when she finally turned her head to look at Stuart, he had a perplexed expression on his face, looking between both her and Draco. "Is everything...okay?"
Elara's voice was hoarse. "Did you say—Amelia?"
Stuart nodded, slowly and Draco released a long breath, muscles relaxing in his shoulders.
Elara found tears stinging her eyes herself and again, she nearly sank to the floor. Draco kept her up, one hand sliding to the back of her head, pressing her face into his shirt as she cried.
"Wh—Elara, are you—What did I say?" Stuart sounded anxious and she tried to shake her head but couldn't find it in her to do anything but sob into Draco.
"We thought she was dead," Draco said, his voice rough. "We thought—"
He didn't finish the sentence and she felt his throat constrict around a swallow as he laid his cheek on top of her head, smoothing back her hair.
Elara couldn't stop her tears, couldn't stop her shoulders from shaking. Amelia was alive. She was okay. She was with McGonagall and she sent her love.
The feeling that bloomed in Elara's chest was such a beautiful one, it made her cry harder.
"Come on," Draco murmured against her hair. "Let's get you upstairs."
It was a blur—how he picked her up and took her upstairs, past Orion and Magda sitting together on the sofa. Elara didn't even want to think of the guilt she felt about Magda and pushed that thought away as Draco ascended the staircase.
He shut their bedroom door behind him and finally set her down, never letting go of her. Instead, he slid both hands to tangle in her hair and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her forehead.
"She's okay," he whispered, sounding choked up himself and she wondered if he'd brought them upstairs more for his sake than hers. "Amelia is okay."
His voice made Elara look up from his chest, her face wet and her pulse racing. Her eyes met his and she felt that familiar feeling of safety and home settle through her at the sight of those silver eyes.
Pushing onto her tiptoes, she pulled him down and kissed him, her fingers twisting into his hair and he sighed against her mouth, hands sliding down her spine.
"She's okay," Elara said as his thumb wiped tears from her face. "Everything's okay."
Again, Draco let out a shuddering breath and then stepped back, hands falling from her. "I should talk to Orion—before he leaves."
Elara nodded, her hand sliding down his arm, grasping onto his as he backed away. "Be kind."
Draco gave her a wry smile. "No promises."
He dropped her hand and disappeared out the door, making Elara sigh and grip onto the edge of the desk as she leaned back against it.
Amelia, Amelia, Amelia. She ached to see her little sister. To see Freya again. To see Isaac and her parents. She wondered if they'd even survived the war. She didn't know what she would do if they hadn't.
A knock on the door brought her out of her stupor and she crossed the space, pulling it open.
Luca was standing right over the threshold, hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders hunched like he was nervous. "Hey."
Immediately, Elara's stomach plummeted. "Luca. Hey."
He gave her a smile. She tried not to think of the last time he'd given her one like it. "How've you been? I'm sorry I haven't been checking up on you. I've been going on raids with Blaise and Mariko and we usually get back late."
"Yeah, I know." Elara nodded, wiping a knuckle under her eyes. "It's no problem."
His smile flickered, his gaze following her hand. "Have you been crying?"
"It's been a rough twenty four hours," she said, wryly.
"Wanna talk about it?"
She let out a watery laugh, still drying her face. "I just found out my little sister is alive and—and it's just overwhelming."
Luca's eyebrows rose. "I heard about Freya visiting."
She nodded. "Yeah, she did. It was—God, I don't even know how to describe it."
Luca's smile was gentle. "I can imagine. I'm glad you got to see her."
"Me too," Elara said, softly. "It was—something I needed. To see her again. I feel like I got some part of myself back—if that makes any sense."
Luca nodded, solemn. "I'm glad they're both alright. Freya and your little sister. I'm sure there's a reunion in store for the three of you soon."
Elara let out a sigh, directing her eyes up to the ceiling to reverse the direction of tears. "Oh, God, please don't make me cry again."
He chuckled, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'll try my best."
Elara gave him a small smile. "Might prove difficult these days. My emotions have been all over the place."
"That's understandable," he said. "It was bound to happen one day—after keeping it in for so long." He paused and then said, quietly, "I just thought I'd come by and—I mean I haven't seen you since..."
Elara's throat went dry.
"You know." He cleared his throat, fidgeting. "I just thought I should—I should come see you. Let you know I don't want that to be just a one time thing."
Elara had just opened her mouth to reply when Draco's voice emanated from down the hall.
"Want what to be just a one time thing?"
She froze, her blood running cold as her head turned to find Draco striding down the hallway towards them. She didn't know how he'd finished talking to Orion so quickly—but he was back and his eyes were focused on Luca and the hand he had holding Elara's.
She yanked it away, quickly and said to Luca, "I'll—see you later, alright?"
His eyes narrowed as they flicked between her and Draco as he came closer. "But—"
Draco slipped past Luca and dipped his head, lips meeting Elara's in a firm kiss. "Told you I'd be back soon, darling."
Elara, caught off-guard, could do nothing but stare helplessly at Luca as Draco entered the room, swiveling to stand behind her, his hand falling to her waist.
"Want what to be just a one time thing?" Draco repeated, his breath stirring Elara's hair and she saw Luca's eyes drop to the hand on her waist. She saw him recognise it for what it was—Draco making his claim.
"Can I talk to you later?" she said, softly, finding it difficult to swallow.
Luca hesitated and then finally dragged his eyes up to hers. "There's no need."
"No, Luca, wait—" Elara made a motion to stop him but he twisted away and vanished down the hallway, leaving nothing but a bitter taste in Elara's mouth.
Draco's hand fell away from her as soon as she shut the door. "Care to explain?"
His voice was tense, strained—and she knew he was expecting the worst.
"Draco, there's—" She sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. "There's something I have to tell you."
Dread and pure terror coiled themselves in her stomach as she watched him search her face, his expression confused.
"Is this about the kiss?" he asked, tilting his head. "The one I walked in on in the hallway? Because I already told you I'm not mad about—"
"No." Elara shook her head, feeling vaguely nauseous. She wondered if she'd make it to the bathroom in time if she needed to throw up. "No, it's—"
Her voice quietened. "It's worse."
She couldn't look at him anymore and he spoke again, his voice wavering, "What did you do?"
"Just listen to me," she said, desperately, reaching for his hands. He took a step back, hurt already flickering on his face. "Please. I was upset—"
"Elara." He was deathly quiet, rough. "What did you do?"
Elara stared at him, her shoulders heaving and forced the knot down in her throat, preparing for the worst. "I slept with him."
The air stilled as he looked at her, his lips parted, his expression blank. He had one hand tucked into the pocket of his plaid pajamas, the other frozen where he'd been rubbing his neck.
"You—what?" Again, his voice was deceivingly soft, every muscle in his entire body taut.
"I slept with him," she repeated, breathlessly. "Draco—"
"When."
"Just—"
"When, Elara. I won't ask you again."
She sighed, burying her face in her palms. "The night of the Masquerade. After I found out about Astoria. I was so upset—and I got here over an hour before you did and I just—" She drew in a breath, slipping her hands into her hair and tugging on the roots in frustration with herself. "I wanted revenge."
The room was so deathly silent, she nearly fled from it.
She didn't know what she'd been expecting exactly—just that it hadn't been good. She'd expected him to yell, to hiss a curse at her, to kick her out of the room or start packing his own things up to move to another one. Maybe slam his fist on the desk and then go find Luca.
What she didn't expect was for him to release a long breath and step up in front of her. For him to wrap long fingers around her wrists and pull them from her face. For him to look down at her with such tenderness on his features.
"It's okay," he said, softly, hands sliding down to her elbows and drawing her closer. "It's okay."
Shock was an understatement for what she was feeling. "W-What?"
Draco dropped his forehead to hers and gave her a small smile. "I'm not happy about it. Frankly, I want to put my fist through his face and then pull his intestines out through his mouth."
She wrinkled her nose in distaste but when he bent to kiss it, she found her worry evaporating. "But I—"
"I've fucked Astoria more times than I can count," he said and this time, it was her turn to glare, "and I had a fucking threesome with Orion and some random girl. If I got mad at you for sleeping with one guy—once—after you'd just found out I was betrothed to someone else this entire time, I'd be a massive fucking hypocrite."
Again, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Which I never claimed not to be—and trust me, half of me wants to lock you in here and go find Carter myself so I can teach him what happens when he touches what's mine."
She raised an eyebrow at him, her heartbeat slowing. "But you're not going to, right?"
Draco sighed and pulled her into a hug, bending to bury his face in her hair. "I'm so tired of fighting," he said, his voice muffled. "I'm so tired of being apart from you. We just found out Amelia is safe and—and I really don't want to fucking ruin this like I always do."
Elara knotted her hands into the back of his t-shirt, inhaling his familiar scent. "You're—really not mad?"
He shook his head against her, the muscles in his shoulders convulsing with the movement. "Not at you. But if you ask one more time, my self control might snap. I'm holding on by a thread here."
She knew he was. She knew how possessive he was, how he so openly showed everyone she was his. He wanted everyone to know so no one laid a hand on her, so she could be his and no one else's. He always watched her in a room full of people, making sure everyone knew who he was there with.
She couldn't even imagine how badly he itched to go hurt Luca. So she said, "It wasn't his idea. I was the one who showed up at his room."
She didn't really remember much of it. It had all happened so fast—her moving on top of Luca, his hands holding onto her waist. The feverish kisses and their gasps filling the room.
Draco stiffened but didn't move from his embrace.
"I didn't really even propose it to him," she said, her cheeks flushing. "I just kind of—pounced on him and then things escalated and—"
"I don't want to hear this," Draco growled, hands sliding under the short dress she was wearing to grip the back of her thighs and haul her up. Her legs wrapped around him. "The last thing I want to do is hear this."
She made a soft noise and it seemed to spark something within him because he cursed, capturing her bottom lip with his teeth. Releasing it, he said, "The first thing I want to do is fuck the memory of that night out of you."
Elara didn't stop. "I didn't come," she said against his mouth as he walked them to the bed. "Not once."
He kissed her harder with a murmured, "That's what I thought."
When he laid her down on the bedsheets, she draped her arms around his neck, legs still folded around his waist. "It all jus thappened so fast," she said, breathlessly as his hand pushed between her thighs. "I wasn't even halfway before he finished—"
"Where?" Draco dragged his mouth down her jaw, down her neck, sucking hard at her pulsepoint. "Tell me where."
"My—" She gasped as pleasure jolted down her spine when his tongue flicked out over the mark he'd just made. "My stomach—"
"Good girl," he growled into her skin, wrenching apart her thighs. "No one else gets to come inside you but me. Is that understood?"
She nodded, frantically, her mind already addled as Draco's hand moved for the line of her underwear. "Hurry—"
A knock at the door broke through their moment and Draco groaned, dropping his forehead to rest on her collarbone, breaths puffing out against her skin. "Can a man not fuck his witch in peace?"
Elara shoved at his shoulders and he rolled off her, landing on his back and propping an arm underneath his head as she smoothed out the creases in her dress.
"Yes?" she called, patting down her hair.
"Elara?" It was Stuart. "Can I—Can I speak to you?"
Judging by his tone, he hadn't heard the quiet—but filthy—words Draco and her had been exchanging and she sighed in relief.
Draco caught her hand just as she moved to stand. "Don't go."
She giggled and pecked his cheek. "Stop pouting."
He didn't—and she called to Stuart, "I'll be right out, Stu."
"Alright."
Draco tightened his grip on her hand, a strand of his hair falling into his eyes as he gazed up at her. "Ten minutes. That's it. That's all I ask for."
Elara looked down at him with a smile on her face and smoothed his hair back. Turning to the door, she said, "Stu, can I meet you in five?"
"Sure, I'll be downstairs."
They waited until his footsteps receded before Draco tackled her down to the bed again.
"I can get you off in five," he said into her mouth, his hand already dipping between her thighs.
She laughed but shook her head. "Not right now, Malfoy."
At once, his hand receded, going to join the other one in framing her head, pressed into the mattress. "That's alright," he murmured, lips moving against her jaw. "Just let me kiss you."
Elara breathed in deep as his mouth traced a path back up to her lips. "I'd like that."
He tasted like mint toothpaste and coffee as his tongue grazed hers and Elara sighed, fingers losing themselves in his soft hair. He slid a hand to her back and in an impressively graceful movement, pulled her up as he settled back against the headboard, making her straddle him.
She tilted her head as she kissed him, willing to get drunk and lose herself in the taste, the smell, the feel of him. Of his hands, firm and cold, traveling over the bare skin of her back where her dress exposed it, of his strong thighs where her legs bracketed them, of the brush of his hair against her forehead and the sensation of his lips against hers.
Kissing Draco always set off electricity in her blood, always made it begin to rush. It made her feel light-headed and like she was floating, made her nerves spark and her stomach flip.
He always worshipped her as he kissed her. His touch was always almost reverent, his fingers decisive and yet conveying awe as they traveled the length of her body. When she placed her hand over his chest, she could feel his heart pounding just as fast as hers.
But it simultaneously made her feel calm. Grounded. Like his kiss had the ability to soothe and excite at the same time, depending on how he used them. He could bring her to the edge of pleasure by nipping under her ear, sucking on her pulsepoint, kissing along her collarbones and the hollow of her throat. But he could also make her feel the safest she'd ever felt by brushing his lips across her forehead, her temple, leaving lingering kisses along her neck as he buried his head there.
Draco knew exactly when to do both and exactly how to make her feel the most she ever had while doing them.
"I..." Elara wet her lips as his teeth scraped against her collarbone, eliciting a thrill along the area. "Draco, I..."
He drew back, lips swollen from kissing her, hair tousled from her hands and looked up at her, the look on his face proving how drunk on her he was. "Yeah?"
She combed back his hair from his eyes, her heart jumping into her throat. He leaned forward again, lips finding the hollow of her throat and his tongue flicked out against the skin, followed by a sharp nip of his teeth. What she was going to say was lost to the wind.
She gasped and he slid one hand up to tangle in her hair, tugging her head back further and she couldn't stop herself from rocking her hips on top of him, desperate for more.
"Mmm," he hummed against her skin, hands halting her by gripping her hips. "I'm afraid your five minutes are up, love."
Her eyes snapped open at the nickname—a new one—and she found herself cursing the person she'd been five minutes ago.
With a groan, she dropped her head onto his shoulder, his arms sliding around her back. "Why didn't I say ten? Or fifteen?"
He laughed, hands moving to rub up and down her bare thighs. "Ten or fifteen years wouldn't be enough for us."
She lifted her head and looked at him with a smile. "No, it wouldn't," she said, softly, leaning in to kiss him again.
His mouth opened for her and she let herself indulge in him a little longer.
"He's waiting for you," Draco breathed, as she dragged her nails against his scalp, making him shiver. "You should..."
She cut him off with another kiss, nipping at his bottom lip and he groaned, hands gripping her thighs, squeezing her soft flesh. "Elara..."
Unable to stop, she kissed him harder, deeper, rocked her hips on top of him again and made a soft sound against his mouth when he seized her waist and lifted her off him.
She whined his name but he hushed her, setting her down on the floor beside the bed. "He's your friend."
She was the one pouting then and he chuckled, kissing her hand. "We can continue this later."
"Tonight," she said, smoothing down her dress again, reluctant to leave.
"I'll be waiting," he purred in response, stretching out on the bed, tucking an arm behind his head as he watched her straighten herself.
Elara took one last glance at him and couldn't stop herself from bending down and stealing another kiss. He let out a breathless laugh into her mouth, his free hand gripping the side of her thigh and giving it an appreciative squeeze.
"Want you naked by the time I get back," she whispered against his lips and he groaned in response.
She practically fled from the room, knowing that if she stayed for a second longer, she'd never be able to leave.
|
Stuart was waiting for her in the empty sitting room, having shed his cloak and had grabbed an apple from the fridge.
There was no sign of Orion or Magda so Elara assumed they'd gone upstairs.
"Hey." She rounded the sofa and took up the armchair, giving him a smile as she tucked her legs underneath her, curling up.
Stuart grinned—and it was so familiar, it made her sigh. She might not remember him much but still, the sight of him resonated deep within her.
"You know," he said, chomping on the apple, "I'm quite happy with the fact that your memories have been wiped."
Elara's eyebrows shot up and he continued, chewing, "I mean—I can't tell you how many times my ego has been severely wounded by you in school. You beat me onto the Quidditch team in second year, scored higher than me in every single exam we ever gave and even used to win at chess most of the time."
"We played chess?"
"Of course we did. Every Saturday in the common room. Star-gazing was on Fridays. We used to climb into the tower—the four of us—and haul ourselves onto the highest windowsill." He chuckled to himself, one hand pushing his mess of chestnut hair out of his face. "We had to use Sticking Charms on Tracy 'cause she was so terrified she was going to fall."
Something panged in Elara's chest. "Tracy..."
Freya had told her—and yet, when Stuart confirmed it, his mouth downturned, it still made her ache.
"It was chaos," he murmured, eyes glazing over. "We were making our way through the tunnel—but the Death Eaters had caught up to us. They kept—bringing down sections on top of us. Tracy was buried underneath one. I tried to save her, tried to pull her out—but the stones had crushed her lungs and she couldn't breathe."
He shut his eyes, his fingers twitching around the apple. "I couldn't leave her there—not for the Death Eaters to find."
Elara knew what that meant. She couldn't imagine what it must have felt like—to make that decision about a childhood friend, to accept that they were too far gone and put them out of their misery.
Stuart shuddered and opened his eyes again, brown and pained. "Indigo...Well, I have no idea where she is. I don't know if she ever made it out of Hogwarts that night. She never returned—not for seventh year either—and then the Battle of Hogwarts happened and we all scattered anyway."
Elara watched as he swallowed another bite of the apple. "And you became a Death Eater?"
He nodded. "I did it for you. I held out hope that you would come back until the Battle of Hogwarts. After that, I decided to take matters into my own hands and—" He swallowed hard. "And forget about you. To accept you were dead, mourn and move on. When I was on my way to Wiltshire to join Voldemort, I bumped into Freya. I told her my plan and she told me about her son and how she'd just handed him off. We decided to go together."
He looked up at Elara, his eyes focused again. "We spent months together. In the same room. She became my best friend—until we decided she had to go undercover. When she left our flat for the last time, it felt—" He shook his head, tossing the apple into the air and catching it. "It felt like losing you all over again."
"I'm glad you had each other," Elara murmured, reaching out to pat his hand.
He gave her a smile and then perked up. "Enough about me. What've you been up to? Apart from fucking Malfoy, of course."
She snatched the apple core from his fingers and chucked it at him. Laughing, he caught it and she rolled her eyes, settling back into the armchair.
"Well," she said, thoughtfully. "It's a bit of a rollercoaster—so hang on tight."
Stuart did. Throughout the hour that she talked—starting from her time down in the cell to the moment they'd arrived to now—he listened in quiet rapture. Made all the right expressions and sounds of disbelief at all the right times, cursed and gasped at all the correct intervals.
He was a good listener, Elara realised. Attentive. Patient. She was sure she'd have interrupted about eighty times by the time she'd finished if it had been her.
When she was done, he looked at her with wide eyes, his chin resting on his knees pulled to his chest. "Merlin, Elara, I'm—I'm so sorry. I wish I'd been there to help you."
"You couldn't have known," she reassured him with a small smile. "It's been crazy if I'm honest but—but it's drawing to an end." Her voice quietened as her mind went somewhere far off. "I can only hope we all survive this."
"We will." Stuart leaned forward and laid his hand on her knee. "And then we'll—we'll find Indigo and it'll be like old times again. Together."
Elara looked up at him, eyes burning. "It hurts," she said, trying to ease the ache in her chest, "that I don't remember our time in Hogwarts together. It must've been so much fun."
Stuart settled back, nibbling at the apple although he'd already bitten off all the flesh. "It was—and if you're willing to listen, I can tell you as much as I can. From the beginning."
Elara perked up, curling up again and resting her elbow on the armrest, leaning her chin onto her palm. "I'm all ears, Stu."
Again, the nickname made him flash her a grin—one that made her feel fuzzy on the inside because this was her best friend.
And as he spoke, she realised how close they'd really been. From meeting each other in first year and becoming joint at the hip, to the countless crushes and break ups they'd all gone through, to the stressful exam weeks and the all-nighters in the common room. To sneaking out to the Black Lake after dark, to playing Quidditch together, to the gossip sessions in the Great Hall over food. To playing pranks on McGonagall and Flitwick, to copying each other's homework, to lying out on the grass in the summer months and enjoying the sun.
There were so many things—so many stories—she'd missed out on. So many conversations and fights she couldn't remember. But nevertheless, hearing Stuart talk about them with his jokes and his wit made her feel like maybe if didn't matter that she didn't remember. Maybe having made those memories was enough.
When he finished, Elara moved to the sofa and they cried together, mourning for Tracy and missing Indigo—and it was only hours later that they managed to part, only because Mariko and Ginny began to make supper in the kitchen.
Stuart heaved a sigh and wiped his eyes, letting out a weak laugh. "Well, I can't tell you how much I needed that."
Elara giggled, drying her own face and lifted her head from his shoulder. "Neither can I. You look tired—you should head up to bed."
Stuart shook his head, pushing a hand through his hair. "I don't want to stop talking yet. There's so much I've missed out on in your life. So many times I should've been there for you."
Elara raised her voice to be heard over the clatter of the pans in the kitchen. "I'll still be here in the morning. I promise. You should rest now."
He hesitated and only when she squeezed his hand, did he kiss her cheek and stand. "Alright then. Which room should I take?"
After Elara had shown him to one of the rooms on the bottom floor, she headed upstairs to find her own room empty. Scrawled on a small note on the desk was Draco's elegant cursive.
Called to Malfoy Manor. Back soon.
Smiling, Elara grazed her thumb ovee the letters and then sighed, heading for the books piled on the desk. Hefting them into her arms, she made her way to the roof and settled down there for a long reading session.
|
"It's past midnight, love."
Elara didn't even look up from the book she was studying, recognising Draco's voice from the stairwell. "You're back late."
She hadn't moved from her position sitting on the floor, her back pressed to the boundary wall of the roof for hours. Her eyes kept skimming over pages and pages, a heap of books to her right that she'd already gone through and another heap to her left that she hadn't touched yet.
"Dark Lord had some issues he wanted to take up with me."
That made Elara's head snap up, her eyes already searching for any telltale sign of pain.
Draco stood by the stairwell, leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, hands in his pockets. Silver eyes tracked her every movement as she shut the book she was reading and got to her feet.
Immediately, she caught the twitch in his jaw, the flex of his fingers even in his pocket. The way he rolled his neck as if he had an ache in it.
"He tortured you," she said, quietly, stepping around the lamp she'd brought up here for the light.
He didn't give any confirmation—not even a nod. Only watched her with tired eyes as she approached.
Elara stopped in front of him, noting the new scar peeking out from under the collar of his white shirt, barely visible in the moonlight. With a gentle hand, she reached up and traced the edge of it, inhaling deeply to try and keep herself calm. "Draco..."
His mouth was set hard, his jaw clenched and she knew he was Occluding. The trauma this man had been through was unimaginable.
Elara slid her hands up his strong chest and laced her fingers together behind his neck. His hands stayed in his pockets as she pulled him down, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth—and then the other corner. Their breaths mingled and his eyes shut, foreheads touching.
"I'm sorry," she murmured and he shook his head, one hand sliding out of his pocket to graze a knuckle down her cheek.
"What've you been reading?" he asked, quietly and she knew he was trying to distract himself, trying to forget.
Elara glanced over her shoulder at the pile of books she'd left behind. "I started off for Magda—but I got side-tracked."
Another graze of his knuckle down her cheek, rubbing lightly like he was trying to ground himself. "With what?"
She hesitated, her mind still racing from everything she had read. She didn't know if this was a good time to dump everything she'd learned in the past few hours on him. "Are you sure you want to know right now?"
He chuckled, drawing back to open his eyes and look down at her. "I'm fine. Just tired."
"You should rest," she whispered as he dipped down to kiss her.
"I will," he murmured against her mouth, tilting her head the way he wanted to so he could kiss her harder. "With you. After you tell me."
She melted into him and he wrapped both arms around her, holding her tight. "I think I figured out how my magic works."
He pulled back, pleasant surprise written in the raise of his eyebrows, the upward tilt of his mouth.
"Yeah," she said, softly, her heart beginning to speed up. It took her a moment to decide whether to say it or not and at the end, she just told herself to do it. "I think it's you."
Draco stared down at her, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Me?"
Elara nodded, detaching herself from him and taking a couple steps back, holding her palms out to him. "It's gonna sound mad, okay? Just—Just stick with me through it."
She barely understood it herself. She had no idea how she was going to explain it to him.
"The magic within me," she said, slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's all part of Voldemort's magic, right? Since it's been extracted from the Dark Marks of Death Eaters I killed at Hogwarts."
He nodded, cautiously, following her towards the books.
"So," she went on, picking up one of the books, "it's Dark Magic. Not enough to make me a Horcrux but enough to make me able to detect them."
"Right," he said, slipping his hands back into his pockets. He relieved a crick in his neck with another twist of it, hissing out through his teeth.
"When I was reading up on Blood Curses," Elara continued, opening up the book to the page she'd been on, "there was a paragraph on Dark Magic—and that paragraph led me to another and another and another until I eventually got sucked into—" She gestured at the books around her. "This."
"As you do."
"As I do," she repeated, nodding before looking down at the book in her hands. "But what I learned is that—Dark Magic is sentient. We knew that already—hence why I can't control it. Dark Magic also wants to protect itself. We also knew that—hence why it's so difficult to destroy a Horcrux." She shivered at the memory of the vision of Iris she'd seen when they'd destroyed the ring.
"But what we didn't fully take into consideration before," she continued, "is what lengths it'll go to—to protect itself." She glanced up at him. "Following?"
"Right there with you," he responded, silver eyes concentrated and intent. The look made her smile. "What?"
"You look like me." She swept in for a quick peck and he tried to follow her kiss as she pulled back. "Hey. Listen first."
He made a frustrated sound but nodded, swiping his thumb across her lips like that would satiate him for the next few minutes. "Alright, you stubborn thing. Go on."
"Horcruxes try to protect themselves," she said, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she thought. As an after thought, she amended it. "Well, the Dark Magic inside the Horcruxes tries to protect itself. It's why the ring tried to get me to put it on after we'd got it off your hand. It knew you were about to destroy it and wanted to protect itself."
Draco pushed his hair out his face, moving to lean an elbow on the boundary wall, the starry sky twinkling behind him.
The moon cast him in a silvery glow, making him look like some sort of shadow of death in his all black attire and his sharp features.
Elara steadied herself and explained, "The Dark Magic within me works much the same. It tries to protect me—because I'm its host and without me, it dies."
"I thought we knew that."
"We did. But there's a catch. We thought it tried to protect me—but the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced I'm not the one it's actually trying to protect."
His puzzled frown goaded her on. "Think about it. The first time I used my magic, it was to send a Patronus to you. The next time, I nearly blew out the living room with you and Hermione in it—because you were goading me on. Then Adolfus—you were there in front of me, getting mauled to death. Then in Poland, when we—including you, of course—were about to die."
She could see realisation registering on his face, the way the muscles slackened. "And then in Paisley, when I found you in that alleyway." Just the memory had her gut twisting. "That was when I could control it best. When I saw you dying there."
"And then—And then when Harry and the others wouldn't consider pulling you out as a spy." Her voice turned quiet. "When I tore up the meeting room with my magic. It was because you were the one being placed in danger by staying in Voldemort's ranks."
Draco's voice was barely audible. "And then with my mother."
She nodded, vigorously. "Also with your mother. Apart from the few times I've been overwhelmed—like when I found out everything that you had done and then at the clocktower—"
He winced.
She softened her tone. "Apart from those few times, my magic has always come out and been the most potent when it's you who's in danger. If it was trying to protect me, why didn't it come out with Corwin? The Aurei? When Dolohov had me cornered?"
Draco looked like he was still processing this information, his elbow resting on the stone, fingers rubbing his lips in thought. "But how does that protect the Dark Magic in you?"
"That was the difficult part," she answered with a nod. "That's what I've been reading up on." She glanced down at the text she'd been skimming. "What it essentially says—and what I think is happening—is this. If I die, the Dark Magic just—dissipates. It turns into nothingness, hovering in the universe until somebody calls on it again—for example, to make a new Horcrux or a new Dark Mark."
She took a much needed breath. "That's not so bad for it. But you know what is?" She turned the book to him to show the image of a figure drawn in the shape of a man, Dark Magic swirling within him. "Having a bad host."
Draco's eyes flickered and she knew he was catching up to it now too.
"Right now, the Dark Magic has no choice but to stay within me—and its best chance at thriving is if I'm—well—okay, I suppose." Elara shut the book again, tucking it to her chest. "And I think it knows—I think it knows that if something happened to you..."
Her voice trailed off, the thought enough to make her hurt but she pushed on. "If something happened to you, it would shatter me. And if I'm shattered, it has no chance at doing anything. It's forced to stay in a host that is still alive—so no chance of returning to the universe and no chance of receiving another possible host—but who's also not healthy enough to sustain it or—or help it thrive."
Draco looked like he'd been holding his breath and let it out in one long exhale, reaching up a hand to rub his forehead with his thumb and index finger.
"So..." Elara said, keeping her voice soft. "I think even before I knew how much I cared about you, my magic did. It knew what losing you would do to me." She paused, shivered and drew in a breath. "It knew how much it would break me."
Draco's hand dropped from his face, his eyes on hers and then he closed the distance between them, hands framing her face.
He kissed her—long and hard and searing in the moonlight, the stars seeming to burn a bit brighter now that they were together.
"Nothing can break you," he said, roughly, their breaths mingling as he retreated an inch. "Nothing."
"You can," she breathed back, fingers clutching onto the front of his shirt. "It's always been you who can."
His eyes flickered, silver and swirling with emotion, but the corner of his lips tugged up in a half-smile. "No. It's you who has entirely more power in this relationship. Quite unfair, honestly."
Elara laughed and Draco kissed the smile off her face, pulling her up onto her tiptoes.
"I'm not joking, witch," he said into her mouth. "That look you gave me when I said something off-handish to Stuart? Nearly made me put my tail between my legs and run."
She tamped down the warm feeling in her chest, spreading like wildfire to the top of her head and the tips of her toes, and said, sternly, "We need to have a talk about that, Mr. Malfoy."
He raised an eyebrow, hands slipping from her waist to rub the backs of her thighs under her short dress. "Oh?"
"Yes." She tried to ignore the way her skin buzzed with his touch. "Did you have to be so rude to him?"
He blinked. "Rude? I wasn't rude."
Elara huffed out a breath, giving him a deadly look. "You know you were."
"I was just—being honest."
"It was cruel," she told him, firmly. "To take Orion's side like that when you know what he did was wrong and when Stuart was hurting that much."
Draco's brow furrowed, his thumbs making absent-minded sweeps along her thighs. "Orion never has bad intentions. You know that."
"Regardless," she countered, her hands sliding down from his neck, lingering on the strong muscles in his shoulders, "what he did was wrong—and it really hurt Stuart. It just wasn't the time to be defensive over your friend."
"It just seemed like he wasn't taking Orion's side into account."
"He's bound not to. In his eyes, it looks like all his brother came back for was a girl. It's not easy to consider the other person's side when you're as hurt as he was."
Draco fell silent and then blew out a breath. "Yeah, maybe not." He bent his head, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'll try to be better next time."
Elara smiled and rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Thank you."
He held her for a while—underneath the stars with the moon large and full in the background, a gentle breeze in the air. They swayed back and forth gently, the movement so subtle, it would've looked like they were standing still from a distance.
Elara kept her eyes shut, listening to his hearbeat, inhaling peppermint and teakwood. These were the moments she loved most with him—when they could forget about all their problems and get lost in each other.
But although she wished she could ignore it all and just be with him, she knew there was a war going on.
And she fully intended to win it for him.
———
hi im v happy w this chapter !! tell me drelara aren't soulmates < 3
vote or ace will pour car oil in your eyes < 3
kisses,
nyx