DRACO feels her magic hitting him right in his chest and it is instant suffocation. He is thrown away from her and his wand away from him. He can hear his mother's startled scream, the scuffling of feet, and Ivan's low and concentrated voice, all three mixed and merged as one as his head spins. It takes him a good minute to regain focus.
"Control, Zilliah", he can finally make out Ivan's words. The ones he keeps uttering at Zilliah with extreme heed. "Control. Breathe."
Getting to his feet with much difficulty, Draco focuses his gaze back upon Zilliah and in one single second, he can deduce that that is not his Zilliah.
Her brown orbs he so adores have turned devilishly jet black as if she is some monster, a demon, the waves of black magic surrounding her complimenting the same. Her skin turns pale white and her veins become more and more visible with time.
"Malfoy!", Ivan snaps at him, seeing that he is up and well. "Talk to her."
Draco fumbles around for words, his mouth running dry. "Wh- What?"
"Talk to her. Calm her down."
Draco slowly drags his eyes back onto Zilliah. He meets those foreign eyes and gulps because he is afraid. It takes him a moment to pull his mind back together and when he finally does, he understands.
He understands that this is not fear he's feeling. He does not fear the person before him because he knows who is beneath. This is just shock that is mixed with some sort of familiarity. Of something so so vague and distant that he can't correctly comprehend at the moment. He refocuses upon his inner walls and builds them up, taking a moment to do so. Then he calls out, low and slow. "Zilliah."
She snaps her head at him, her eyes blinking unnaturally as they meet him. And he can sense the familiarity dawning on her, within her, around her. As if one look at him was enough for her to come back to herself.
Or that's what he had thought anyway. But she doesn't come back to herself. Not wholly. The wave of the black magic surrounding her swirls and swirls like a dangerous predator hiding in the bushes, waiting for the right time to jump up on its prey. And the look in her eyes makes him realize that no limb of that prey would be left untorn if the magic unbounds from her. He has to act quickly.
He takes a cautious step towards her, and he can hear the magic hiss at him. Mocking him almost. Mocking her. Tempting her to let go. Draining her of everything so that she loses control. She steps back, her skin growing paler and her lips trembling. He knows why she steps back. He knows she would rather die herself than let any harm come to him.
"Zilliah", he retakes a step towards her as the hissing increases. "It's me. It's Draco. I'm not scared of you. I know you won't harm me."
Her foreign eyes just stare and stare at him in warning. But he notices there is the slightest twitch of her finger towards him. The slightest motion made by the real her. That's all the affirmation he needs to keep going.
"I'm right here. You're safe. You can control it. Believe me, you can."
At those words, her whole body goes rigid except her head. It keeps twitching and twitching and twitching. He has no idea if it is a good thing or a bad thing. Everyone in the room has their breaths held, scared to make even the slightest sound or motion. But not Draco.
Not him because he would rather die himself than let any harm come to her.
"Zilliah, come back to me. Please."
He can hear a faint cry through all the hissing that increases. Her mouth moves. She is trying to speak. He moves closer to her so that he can hear her. "I- I'm trying", she mutters, so low, so weak, so drained, it breaks him in an incomprehensible way.
It instills hope in him too and he moves even closer. He can see her shaking her head, warning him to stay away but he doesn't care. Not one bit. "I'm here. You're safe. You're doing good."
She closes her eyes so abruptly, so forcefully, like she's protecting herself from everyone. Or more like she is protecting everyone from herself.
But when she opens them again, Draco breathes a sigh of relief. Because there it is. That brown hue he has sworn he would never get tired of looking at. It's there, fighting its way to the surface, through all the waves of darkness and fear. And it makes him smile and reach out to her further but just as his fingers graze her shoulder, she goes limp and begins to crash to the floor.
She doesn't though.
She doesn't because he is there to catch her before she does. He will always be there to catch her before she does.
________________________
"She was entrusted to us. To you!", Ivan's voice is filled with pounding rage, the edges of it sharp enough to slice through the usually calm and collected and completely unbothered demeanor of Linden. Now, there's fear in his eyes. A trembling fear oozing its way out as his mask falls apart. "You have two daughters about the same age as her! She's our fucking princess for fuck's sake." Ivan's nostrils flare as his fist balls up by his side. Draco can see how much he wants to beat the living shit out of that man before him. But even after everything, it is his father.
Draco knows that feeling all too well.
"How could you?" There's pure disgust prevalent in Ivan's voice. Pure hatred.
Linden does not speak one word. He has dropped his head in shame, his eyes meeting the marble floor.
Ivan takes a step back, trying his best to keep his cool. "You should leave."
"Iv-"
"Don't speak my name." Ivan raises a hand in warning. "Just leave. And be prepared to hear from Daphne about this."
That causes Linden to suddenly shoot his head up. "What?!"
"You heard me just right the first time." Ivan turns his back to Linden lest he should give in to the temptation to harm his father. Draco has his hands stuffed into his pockets as he leans against the railing of the staircase for this exact same reason too.
He wants to bloody murder that man. And it is taking everything in him not to.
"Think about our family, Ivan", Linden's voice is desperate, plowing through the mud for a way out. "We'll be ridiculed and outcasted. Think about your mother and your sisters-"
Ivan spins on his heels, his fist colliding with Linden's jaw at the same instant, sending the latter to the floor with the intensity of it. "You!", Ivan spits with rage. "You were the one who should've thought about that. But now it is too late, Linden."
An audible gasp mixed with a groan of pain erupts from Linden's mouth. "I'm your father", he bellows.
Ivan kneels by one leg, dipping his head low to meet Linden's eyes. His voice is as deadly as the magic Draco saw in Zilliah earlier. It's potent, his words dragged out to emphasize the meaning. "I do not care", he whispers.
Another blow.
There's blood trickling down Linden's jaw. There's blood on the ground, on his shirt.
Draco smirks in satisfaction from where he stands.
Of course, he wishes more harm upon Linden. Hell, he wants to inflict it himself. He wants to cut out every last vein in that man's body. He wants him on fire alive.
But he isn't his to finish off.
Ivan gets up and makes his way over to Draco, draping an arm around his shoulder and leading him into the nearby room, leaving Linden there to crawl back home. Once inside, Ivan closes the door and moves to a table, leaning against and digging the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. Draco waits by the door itself, straight and poised, his hands still remaining inside his pockets. It seems like a long time passes before Ivan blows out a long breath, turning his gaze upon Draco with a half-smile. "Thank you", he says
"You have no reason to thank me."
"But I do. I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for you."
That's true. Draco knows it is because Zilliah would never have told him. So he nods.
"And for bringing her back. She has never gone through it without losing control. But somehow with you there.." Ivan trails off, his eyes boring into Draco, trying to find an explanation, trying to mine out his very soul and lay it out there in the open so that he can dive in and analyze all of this even deeper. "With you there, she was able to come back to herself." Obviously drawing a blank, he asks, "How?"
Oh, how Draco wishes he knew how.
He wishes he knew how. He wishes he knew why.
Why her? Why him? Why them?
What is this between them? What is this familiarity, this bond, this magic?
Gods, he wishes he knew.
Ivan watches him, awaiting an answer. "She'll be safe here until you find a safer place for her to stay. The safest place for her to stay. Away from that man and all dangers."
________________________
"Are you even aware of the trouble you've got yourselves into, Draco?! Are you even aware of how this could put your family on a murder platter?!", Narcissa mutters in anger and shock, walking to and fro in front of the bed where Zilliah lies, unconscious but alive. Ivan had said it would take her a while to wake up. "She's his daughter. His daughter, Draco! How could you even-"
"Mother, stop!", he groans, lifting his head from where it was buried in the crook of Zilliah's neck. He sits beside her, both his hands clasping her right. He sits there, breathing her in and kissing her knuckles and her jaw occasionally. She is unconscious, yes. But he knows she feels it all. He knows she feels his presence, his breath, his hands, his lips. He just knows.
"Stop?!", Narcissa faces him with a glare. "Stop?! Draco! She's our death warrant. If the Dark Lord comes to know-"
"He won't."
"What if he does? What if he does come to know of her? Of you! Draco, you're supposed to be loyal to him."
Draco breathes in a long air, trying to calm himself. But he can't. He tries but after everything, he can't. Not any longer. "Maybe I don't want to be loyal to him", he starts, his thoughts forming into words, completely unfiltered. "Maybe I hate him. Maybe I hate him for what he has turned Lucius into. Maybe I loathe him for everything Lucius has done to you after the person he became because of him. Maybe I utterly despise him with my whole being for destroying my family and making me this shattered piece of a mess at just seventeen!"
His eyes bore into his mother's. The ones that gave him life.
"You can't hate him."
Draco stands up from beside Zilliah, dropping her hand. "But I do, mother.."
Narcissa takes a step back as if she has been struck. As if she doesn't recognize this person before her. The one she gave life to.
Draco is forced onto his knees, onto the floor. His forearm sizzles. The snake coils. The Dark Lord calls.
Dumbledore is dead. It was Draco's task to bring it about and he failed.
There is always a consequence to failing the Dark Lord.
His mother rushes to his side quickly, tears flowing out of her eyes. "Tell him you'll do better, Draco. Beg him for forgiveness. For mercy. Keep your feelings about him to yourselves. You don't want him as your enemy."
Oh, but he already is.
Draco stands up and looks back at Zilliah, lying there, her angelic face peaceful and calm. "I trust you with her, mother. You're the only one I can trust her with right now."
Narcissa gets up and shakes her head. "Draco, she-"
"I love her, mother." The words roll off his tongue with no hesitation or doubt. "I love her with my whole being. And you can say it's dumb. You can say it's foolish and reckless of me. But I can't help it. I can't help loving her."
He clutches his forearm trying to calm the pain shooting through his body with each passing second and walks around his mother to the door. On reaching it, he pauses.
He trusts Narcissa. He does. But still, he mutters out in warning, "If anything happens to her, know that I will literally burn down that person who caused it to ashes."
Draco can hear his mother inhale a long breath. She has never seen him speak so before.
Twisting the knob and opening the door, he shoots a quick look at her over his shoulders. "She loves the stars, mother."
And with that, he leaves to meet his fate and twist it as much as he can just so he can come back and hold Zilliah's hand again.