literature

Charmer 7

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Draco spent the next few days in a tense kind of bliss. The tenseness, however, manifested itself in two ways: he banished dozens of roses a day to Hermione’s home which resulted in his mother becoming very interested in why the bill for the florist was so high, while the other way was that he was particularly nasty to former Order members, barely being able to stand pleasant conversation with them. After a week he was visited by Dumbledore, who had grave matters to speak of.


He was in his office, angrily filling out paperwork, when the aged Headmaster came through the Floo network without so much as a by-your-leave. Draco immediately stood to give the older man the respect he deserved, although it was obvious it was a grudging respect. Showing Dumbledore to his seat, Draco returned to his own.


“You’ve been doing well for yourself here, Draco,” Dumbledore finally said, breaking the silence which stretched between them. Draco nodded but held his tongue. He knew from experience when to speak and when to remain quiet. The elderly man sighed at sat back in his chair, clearly recognizing that he was going to have to cajole the young Malfoy into cooperation.


“You’ve not returned my owls, surely you find nothing amiss with Potions Master at Hogwarts. If I remember correctly you are quite a hand at the discipline…my mind recalls study groups in the Slytherin common rooms,” he said as he fixed his blue eyes on Draco’s silver ones. Draco held Dumbledore’s gaze longer than he normally did, unconsciously forming a steeple with his hands to mirror that of the Professor’s.


“Yes, I occasionally tutored those who wished to not incur the wrath of Professor Snape,” Draco allowed after he found that he could no longer hold his eyes to Dumbledore’s without doing something with his mouth. He was having enough trouble trying not to spit in the old man’s face, and something about the able readiness of those steepled, aged hands across from his own told him that lobbing spit about his office was not in his best interests. Dumbledore’s eyes flickered at the words which flowed smoothly from Draco into the suddenly deadly air between the two.


“It is a shame we were not able to pardon your father further,” Dumbledore said, changing the subject away from school, steering the conversation into a different, yet equally volatile, direction. “Yet the fact that he was willing to pass information made life after the war much more pleasant than a return to imprisonment for him, did it not?”


Draco’s eyes hardened. His father was a man who, despite his failings and shortcomings and shortsightedness, Draco deeply respected in some ways. The fact that his father had swallowed his pride and sung the tune the Order and the Ministry wished him to sing, all for the fact that Lucius knew that Narcissa would never survive if he was sent to prison or executed, was highly respectable.

Lucius had sacrificed his ideals and gave way to the new age for the love of Draco’s mother. Draco had learned the day of his father’s trial after the peace had been restored in Wizarding Britain what true faithfulness was about.


“You are referring to my father’s confessions and name giving, are you not?” They stared one another down for a time after Draco’s loaded sentence hung in the thickness of the air between them.


“Draco, where is Hermione?” Dumbledore’s sudden question startled Draco, yet his countenance changed not a wink, although his mind screamed in fury at the cool tone the aged Headmaster used as he asked the simple question which had no right to be answered.


The silence only thickened as Draco lost control of his tightly reserved visage and his eyes became cold as his mouth turned downwards into a deep frown which made him look even more like his father than he did normally.


“Draco, I can ha—”


“I have no interest in having you swoop into this matter with your ‘deus ex machina,’ to try to save her. The Ministry has never listened to you when they are not in imminent danger, you know that as well as I, Professor. Besides, I would rather not have the likes of an Order member sticking their hypocritical fingers in my pie as one might put it,” Draco said with delicacy laced with malice as a scowl began to glitter in his deep frown and serious brow.


Dumbledore sighed and sat back.


His posture evidenced that he was going to tell, and he was going to tell it straight. Because Draco had learned something of his father: you can betray everything in your life, you can feel like you are swallowing glass laced with arsenic as you lie through your teeth of sadness and sincere condolences to the family, but you never, you never betray those who place their lives in your hands.
Okay. Yeah. I've not updated this since the 6th of November. I am deeply sorry for that. Life is to blame. But that is going to be sorted soon anyway.


So as you've read, I entered Dumbledore and had him talk with Draco. And I've only just broken the ice (for better or worse) between them.


Most likely for the worst since my older&good!Draco is fairly volatile and such.


Thanks for reading!

Chapter Guide

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven (this page)

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen
© 2007 - 2024 nmmi-nut
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LadyLupin's avatar
wow, a new one!! I thought you abandoned it.

Good chappie! Dumbledore is such a sweety. is this in an alternate universe of somekind?