Silver and Gold // Dramione

Definitely Not a Dream

6th Year, October 12

The humble silence that fell over their common room when Hermione admitted that she couldn't fully rule out Draco being an obscurant stayed for a long while.

She kept making notes based on the books, asking Draco to entertain her Theories. For once he allowed her questions with ease and only a tinge of annoyance. Her eyes were moving rapidly from books to parchment, repeating the action steadily every time she noted something of importance.

Draco still wasn't sure what an obscurus was. Her brief and vague description left him with more questions than answers.

She had said it formed in the absence of a love, or rather she had read that from Newt Scammander's book. But his mother had loved him more than he possibly thought a mother could love her son. His father wasn't as sentimental or dear, but he cherished his only child and wanted him to succeed. In some ways, Draco had considered his father's ambition for him, to be his father's way of displaying affection and adoration. Not that his father would ever admit that verbally.

Then there was the question of his magical signature. Hermione had said that while it wasn't confirmed that the black tornado of smoke was the output of a child's obscurus' magical signature. She hinted that her books and studies lead her to believe that. His signature, as the night at Borgin and Burkes had proved, was a bursting ball of flames, not a ball of black swirling ash.

Different, yet connected: he thought.

Draco and Hermione stayed in the common room like that for hours that night. Combing through the worn pages of the old textbooks, and writing theories, only for Hemrione to cross them off one by one when a single piece of the puzzle didn't fit that narrative.

Draco wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but he understood he was when the voices flooded his senses. Putting him into a mental frenzy.

- "Narcissa you know what will happen....." - He didn't recognize the voice. It was soft and stern, much like his mother, but it held a yield of caution behind it.

-"I know... but.. I can't risk him"- he heard his mother's whisper follow.

He didn't know when this scene had taken place, or if he had been present. To be honest, he didn't know if this scene had ever folded into reality, or if his mind was tricking him.

- " You don't have to risk him. Either of them. It'll be safer when they are with you" the stern vice turned back to mother. He recognized it was female, and that it was a different new voice than the one he had heard the previous nights.

-" You and I both know this is safer...."- Narcissa voice stall - "please, he can't know"-

He? Was he referring to him?

-" You can't visit. Not until much later"-

-"I can't visit at all"- His mother cut off the female voice, - "Go. Now, if they see too many memories they will know something is wrong"-

-"Narcissa..." the voice was nearly silent in its plea.

-"Go."- his mother's voice was trembling, he could only imagine the tears that would be slipping from her eyes. He couldn't see the images or the scene. He hadn't been present for the conversation, but it somehow felt more real that the other he had been there for.

A strong hissing scream cut through his head, sending a rush of pain to his the space behind his eyes. It crushed his thoughts with blinding punishment, and left him a shell in his own head when it finally died down.