A/N: Okay so my plan was to work super hard while on vacation, but then I realized traveling makes you not want to work because you're constantly doing something. I'm finally home, I was visiting the states. Shout out to my American readers. Y'all have really big grocery stores, just something I noticed.
Anyway, here's the month-late chapter. Super sorry. Already started working on the new one. Don't kill me.
Chilled Legacy XVIII
All had gone quiet and cold inside him, like the inside of a cooler room. He was reminded mere days ago when Luna had found him bleeding on the floor and given him her strange fur coat, snapping Draco out of his trance. Now he was in another trance, a strange mixture of the adrenaline pumping through him when he'd attacked Blaise and the anaesthetized sensation of sitting in the still coldness with Luna.
The wind had stopped and the flakes fell slowly now.
He looked around at the castle. Completely covered in frost, coated in several feet of unmelting snow. For once he didn't feel chilly. Nor did he care that he'd frozen the highlands of Scotland. Draco's chest felt strangely cold, colder than the air around him, but his only concern now was getting the hell out of there before his head was hacked off.
That was the only feeling the curse let him feel—fear followed by self-preservation. It was that feeling that told him to move though his emotions and senses felt like they'd been drifting at the bottom of the frozen lake for too long, unable to twitch an inch to the left of the right, overcome by hypothermia.
A soft groan echoed just in front of him over the silent, horrified crowd.
Blond locks nearly the same shade as his were sprawled across the ground. Draco's eyes slowly followed their source to the most ridiculous frilly green dress he'd ever seen, like a bush dangling uncut grass.
The hair covered the girl's face, but he didn't need to see it to know. He'd shaken his head and smiled when he first saw the dress at the ball, but Draco wasn't smiling now.
There was a thud in his chest like a picaxe chipping away at the ice blanketing the lake, trying to reach the warmer bottom. It was light. Barely effective.
Then Draco shook his head and blinked, a much louder thud stopping the air from entering his lungs momentarily. The name of the girl finally came to him, as if someone had blown away the fog in his vision.
"Luna," Draco said softly.
Another thud.
"Luna," he said much louder.
Suddenly Draco was on the floor, clutching her unconscious body to his chest, thoughts of incoming danger scattered. Each intake of breath was another thud to the chest.
His fingers brushed the hair out of her eyes and he began to shake her slightly.
"Luna. Luna, no. I'm sorry. Merlin—Luna wake up! I'm so sorry, please."
Her body was shaking like a lone kitten left in the rain, and Draco could see the frost spreading on her lips. The nearly-white blonde hair was turning lighter strand by strand.
Still, her eyes fluttered open.
"Stay with me Luna, don't fall asleep," he told her, not entirely sure how being awake would help. "It was an accident, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I didn't mean it, Luna."
"I... it's...I'm c-cold," was all she managed.
He felt tears stream down his face, but his throat was dry. The coldness in his chest had traversed like a river to his eyes, splattering on his friend's face.
Draco looked up at Harry, then at the sword in his hand.
***
Someone—Harry suspected Seamus—had handed him a sword during the silence.
McGonagall had run to push Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy back from the commotion. They had arrived moments before when Blaise had their son at sword point.
Other than Harry, everyone else had backed away after the explosion, but the Malfoy's pushed forward and the teachers were forced to push them back before anything else set Draco off.
One teacher, Professor Sprout, bolted to fetch Madam Pomfrey. Harry knew trusted Aurors (friends of Moody) would arrive soon, if not wardens of Askaban or expert healers from St. Mungo's to take Draco to solitary confinement.
Maybe both would arrive and then figure out what to do with him.
Other than McGonagall and the teachers she shouted orders to, no one really scattered. McGonagall trusted Harry wouldn't swing. It was either that, or deep down she wanted him to.
The sword in his hand weighed a ton, at least that's what it felt like.
Whatever happened now wouldn't be considered murder to the public, not coming from the Boy Who Lived. They had more than enough eyewitness evidence to tie Draco Malfoy to being the ruler. The boy was a weapon of mass destruction. If he swung like most expected, Harry would break the curse and save the land. They would think him a hero, not a murderer.
But it felt like murder.
"Do it," Draco said, his voice sounding like gravel. He held Luna in his arms, not even noticing the change in attire. His clothes hadn't just frosted over, they were frost. The fabric was made out of what looked like powdered crystals turned to silk, sparkling blue in this sunless atmosphere. Some were threaded together to form subtle snowflake patterns on the barely translucent cape.
Gently, Draco placed Luna's body back on the ground. With a single glance around the frozen land, he bowed his head, waiting for the sword.
The swing never came.
"I won't" Harry said softly. Then, taking in the crowd, "I won't kill him!"
"I said do it dammit!" Draco cried.
Luna's hair was so light it was hard to tell which streaks were turning white anymore. Her lips were already blue.
Harry understood what would happen. If Draco lived, Luna would die. Still, Draco's willingness took him by surprise. He couldn't see himself swinging the sword down on his neck. The only thing he could see was the smiling blond walking down the hall with him, Ron, and Hermione as they chatted away about the latest quidditch article. Something had felt so right and natural about the way he blended with them.
He felt and touched too many things in that moment, but in the end they were all just one. They were all Draco. From the first time he'd extended his hand to offer him a toxic friendship, to the last time he'd reached out for a genuine one. Insults, mocking laughter, genuine compliments, and genuine laughter.
"Maybe you won't." Draco said, shakily standing. "But I know who will."
The crowd backed away further, but Harry didn't.
"What?" Harry asked. He was sure no one here had the guts to raise the sword.
Neville picked up Luna and wrapped her in his coat, carrying her bridal style away from Draco. He eyed the blond, but he didn't look angry or scared like the rest, just confused and worried. Draco didn't dare look at him.
Draco's eyes searched the ground for the bag. With a flick of his hand, it was once again in his grip.
"What are you doing?" Neville asked
Draco raised his other hand, "stay back."
"You won't hurt me," Neville challenged.
"Yeah?"
Draco shot at the ground again, blasting Harry back. A large wall—longer than Harry had ever seen—began to grow around the crowd, encasing them.
The ice was thinner and slower growing than the previous walls. There was no panicked blast, the ice grew almost gracefully. Harry easily began to punch his way out.
He broke through the other side just in time to see Draco jump, bag in hand.
***
The castle and the people in it had turned to utter chaos—teachers running, shouting orders, fetching extra blankets. The slytherins busted out of their refrigerator dorms and were demanding to sleep in the Great Hall or in the kitchens with the hufflepuffs.
It was cold.
Damn cold.
Harry felt like jumping into the fireplace and rolling in the flames, and he would've too if he weren't so busy helping people melt the ice from...well, everything. After about an hour they realized it was useless. The cold death stuck to the wall as if merged with the brick. The mold-looking frost expanded without end, enough for the teachers to start chucking fireballs at the walls.
Talk about tracking down Draco started again. Aurors and healers had just begun to fly in and out of fireplaces.
Harry had no idea where he could've gone. One minute he was jumping towards the ice bellow, the next he'd vanished into thin air. Large parties searched the forests and over the lake on brooms, but there wasn't the slightest trace. McGonagall suspected he ran through the boarder then apparated, but the theory had several holes. For one, no one had seen him running. Draco simply dispersed mid-jump.
Harry moved on to the Great Hall with Ron to start another fire before the slytherins froze. He kept his hands his pockets and half his face tucked safely in the somewhat useless scarf. Ron dropped the large pot in the center, whispering the same spell for what felt like the millionth time and a burning ember began to grow at its center. After he was done, he shoved his hands in his pockets as fast as Harry, cursing in inaudible, jittery mumbles. They did this with several more pots until the Great hall became less unbearable.
It might've been the strangest sight he'd seen today—the slytherins giving up their own blankets to cover the more cold intolerant friends. The older snakes huddled together with the first and second years, rubbing their shoulders and preforming advanced (but useless) heat charms to the air around them.
Slytherin, you'll make your real friends. Harry was reminded of Draco jumping in front of the Fiendfyre.
There were still the exceptions. Blaise was in the corner of the room with a couple other questionable figures, arguing avidly with a short girl Harry couldn't see through the flakes.
Ron looked in the same direction. "Is that Astoria?"
Harry and Ron ran towards her, but it turned out she didn't require any help. It was Blaise who was in trouble.
Behind Zabini stood a small army composed of Pansy, a couple other slytherins, two gryffindors, and a ravenclaw, each holding a sword.
"We only came to recruit, not ask your permission, shrimp."
"I won't let you lay a finger on him, Parkinson."
Pansy looked her up and down, towering over her. She wrinkled her nose as if she were covered in dog vomit.
"Oh yeah? You going to fight us for your precious boyfriend?"
Astoria didn't flinch. "I will."
Ron and Harry looked at each other, shrugged, and then stood behind her, swordless. Blaise whistled and five more students with swords ran in to the Great Hall and joined his ranks.
"You know what I hate, Blaise?" Astoria said calmly.
Blaise raised an eyebrow. Astoria pulled her wand from her belt. "When wizards lower themselves to such stupidity and give in to using senseless muggle weapons. Alarte Ascendare!"
Blaise was shot up to the celling before Harry had a chance to blink, just barely missing the candles. There was a chorus of screams, but none had time to move before Blaise landed on the group of sword wielding wizards.
"Anyone else want to come after Draco?" she shouted at the room
"I'm starting to like this girl," Ron whispered to Harry.
"D-don't let Hermione hear you say that."
"I think the slytherins should be a b-bit warmer now," Ron said. The snow fall has lessened in the room and the frost melted slightly. "Let's go see who else needs our help. Green, you coming or are you planning to start a riot?"
Astoria hesitated.
"No one will go searching for him in this storm," Harry assured her as if she were a small child. Everything will be right were you left it when we get back.
The tone worked since she nodded and followed them out.
No one needed their help.
That is, everyone needed their help, but they needed so much of it that in the end there was nothing they could really do. Everyone in the halls stared as he walked, expecting him to pull out a master plan. He felt he should be doing something. The only thing that could make this better was him tracking down Draco and ending his life, but that was most definitely out of the question.
There was a certain clarity that came with adrenaline and tragedy. Draco Malfoy wasn't the enemy. After all this time, he could finally see it, and it made his insides clench. Wherever Draco was and what he was planning had his head feeling fuzzy. Deep down Harry knew something wasn't right, that his friend was in trouble and it was all his fault.
Maybe if he'd seen the signs or been kinder the land and the school wouldn't be frozen, Draco wouldn't be missing, and (worse of all) Luna wouldn't be dying.
The heat charms weren't enough. Harry could continue setting up burning pots or performing more spells around the castle, but most everyone was doing that already. There had to be a plan. A strategy. A miracle. Something.
Astoria laid a shivering hand on his shoulder. "It's not up to you, you know. Sometimes things just happen. You can't always be the hero and you can't save everyone. I don't blame you for what happened, and you shouldn't either."
For the first time in the last hour Harry felt warm. He wouldn't be surprised if he tilted his head his face brushed against a wool blanker that someone had wrapped around him. Once more, he saw Draco's pained face. The way his tears fell to Luna's face. Then, his shivering friends and teachers. They were the words Harry needed to hear this, especially from Astoria, the one who cared for Draco the most. "You—you don't?"
"Why would I? I'm the one who...pushed him."
"No you weren't," Ron said, surprising both of them. "He'd already been pushed. No one accident was the last. They all fit together in a sort of puzzle, I think."
"He saw me fear him," Astoria said. "I can never take that back."
"We're all jerks," Ron said. "Even Draco. No use crying about it now."
Astoria nodded, realizing she'd got off topic.
"What now?" Harry interrupted the silence. "I can't just let them die."
"You can't make a miracle, Harry. Now we take care of each other. Do the best you can with what you've got. We can start by being with Luna—Neville is with her—and keeping people from going after Draco."
"After what you did I don't think anyone would even look at Draco the wrong way," Harry said.
Astoria smiled, something Harry thought impossible right now. He could've sworn he heard the ice cracking, as if that single smile had cast a ray of light on the frozen lake. When had their teeth stopped chattering?
"You're not so bad, for a Slytherin."
"And you're not so stupid, for a Gryffindor."
"What about me?" Ron asked.
"You're still pretty stupid," Astoria replied with fake malice.
Ron smiled too.
***
They say many things clear the mind. Draco heard somewhere that a long car ride helped muggles clear their simpleminded problems, like a long broom ride. Running was also a good one. Draco found out this year that singing was his mind-clearer, but he also found that plummeting from a certain deathly height did the trick. Maybe it was the cold wind slashing at his face and his stomach jumping to his throat as he rocketed towards ice-covered rocks, powering the thrill of the adrenalin pumping through his veins.
Or the near-death experience.
Definitely the near death experience.
During those few shorts seconds something in his mind snapped together. He reached towards the book, felt for the leathery flower and suddenly he was floating through the air stomach first until he arrived there again—Arendelle.
The outskirts of Arendelle were brighter and bolder than ever before, the clarity of the fall still pulsating through him. It was only mildly cold compared to Hogwarts. A light wind brushed his face and the new warmness bled through him. Everything was a forest green engulfed in a bright blue sky. Up ahead he could see petit stone structures and olden houses. It was the small paradise the old retired to.
He gripped the book in his shaking hands, replaying the fall in his mind.
"What gives?" he said, opening it to Aunt Bella's page.
She was laughing. "What ever do you mean?"
Draco was certain she knew what he was referring to, but clarified to save time. He needed time. "The portkey worked. The flower was missing before, and now it's not. It was there the first time, but..."
Bellatrix shrugged. "It only opens for the ruler. Potter couldn't get in if he begged."
"But it didn't work for me the other day either."
"The portkey is hidden by a secret code," Andromeda answered. "All we know is that it only opens for the ruler on specific instances."
"Specific meaning what exactly?"
"Who knows?" Bellatrix said. "But it was quite hilarious watching you flail, darling."
Draco frowned. He was losing time. Precious time. What good did it do him to know how the portal opened now? This would be the last time he used it...or any portal. His hands slid over the corner to shut the book—
"What brings you to Arendelle? Come to freeze Norway too?" Bellatrix said, eyes gleaming.
She knew it wasn't a last minute escape plan for the fall. Draco could've easily shot soft layers of powdered snow to aide his fall. They'd heard him fight with Astoria for the bag; this wasn't just some random location to save himself.
It was the perfect location to destroy himself.
Another thing that came with the clarity of the present was the clarity of the past. After his first trip to this strange land, the memories of what and who he saw that drunken day sunk in slowly throughout the rest of the week, and—during the jump—all at once.
Small things were still blurred, but Draco remembered what he was doing and where he went. The sky had been cloudy and dark, covering every single star. Several muggles turned to look at the stumbling teen dressed in black Hogwarts robes. Even without Draco shooting lazy snowflakes at them he was a public oddity. Begging them to kill him didn't help either.
Not that many understood his slurred English anyway. Some small children thought the flakes were a fun trick, pointing, laughing, and reaching for Draco. The adults didn't know what to make of it and a coupled tightened their grip on the children, pulling them away.
"Kill me. Kill me," Draco kept telling them.
It was minutes before someone finally understood his language. He was a young man with dirty blond hair and a thick Norwegian accent. The other two with him understood the basics—a red haired woman with few wrinkles and a pixie cut, and a burly bald man with more tattoos than Draco could count, many which moved. He let himself sink into the memory.
By the time the burly man reached him, Draco was beyond the point of walking. He didn't know what was going on and he didn't much care. The man slung him over his shoulder like a rag doll as Draco mumbled, "you have to kill me. I'm the ruler."
The burly man turned to the younger wizard. "Ruler?"
He explained the word, Hersker, as he wrapped Draco's ungloved hand with his scarf and the burly man nodded as if Draco's claim made perfect sense.
There wasn't any talking on the way to town. Draco may or may not have puked on the way there. They stopped at a strange shop with a red veil which felt like sandpaper as he passed through. This part was the blurriest of all—Draco couldn't remember the inside or who else was there a (paintings? Crystal balls? Stuffed animal heads?) , maybe it was just the four of them. But what he could remember is what was said.
They wanted Draco to understand what was happening, as if they'd known he'd remember it later. They spoke mostly English to him, slowly and firmly like a parent teaching a child to speak.
This was Arendelle. The hidden wizarding side of the land was just through the veil with a population smaller than those attending Hogwarts. They knew of his powers and what he was capable of, and they were more than willing to grant his request and end the curse. Just not right that second.
"We can train you," the blond explained. "Your powers are rare even here, but since your curse hasn't been activated death is not your only option, yet."
Draco shook his head. In that moment all he'd wanted was death, but not to save the land. That's what the wizards thought his motives were, but he simply wanted to escape himself, his thoughts, and actions. Draco wanted a selfish death—murder, not sacrifice.
The others had refused. They planned to keep him there overnight until he was sober. If he still wanted to 'save the land' then, they would do it.
"I vill not kill you child, not in this state."
Draco zoned back into his normal self, feeling lost and confused as to where and who he was talking to. A chill ran through him as if someone had just dumped an ice bucket down the back of his robe. "Kill me?"
The others noticed, gave him a blanket and left the room. The girl didn't look convinced and the sober-ish Draco didn't want to die. Where the hell was he? Where was Luna? He had to run—fast—before the killers decided on a time. As soon as they were far enough away, he touched the flower on the book again and reappeared in the music room.
Draco blinked away the memory, but the bitterness lingered.
He knew why the book opened now. He almost ended the curse once, now he was trying to end it again. Maybe the book didn't care what his motives were—as long as he was willing to die, it would take him here—but Draco cared. To hell with self-preservation or selfish death. No more self.
An old woman approached Draco, her hair as white as Luna's had been the last time he saw her. She had a kind, crooked-toothed smile. He had no idea what she was saying. Draco mumbled something in English and a look of recognition crossed her face.
"Are you lost, dearie?" she said with a thick accent.
Draco smiled. He was not lost. Something in him told him he could find that red veil blindfolded.
The day after his first trip he wrote of it in the room of requirements and compiled it with the other seemingly useless scratch notes of the curse. The scroll didn't say much, but it said enough. However, his purpose had changed. When his hand dropped the quill it was as if he'd stored a deadly poison at Gringotts which he was saving to drink on a dark day.
Draco had a true purpose for it now; dying to save his friend.
A/N:
Oh btw I made a chilled legacy trailer kinda like the one I have for WGM. It's on the first chapter video/image thingy.
AAAH so close to finishing this story. Then idk what to do with my life.