The Sanctuary of Yesterday

3.11 | kung fu fighting

Draco would never admit it, but Molly Weasley's cooking was one of the best things he had ever tried. It was the perfect mix between a loved home-cooked meal and one he would receive at the manor. It was warm yet sophisticated in its own way, though Draco assumed having access to the Black family wealth helped on that part.

Molly Weasley's meals were a delicacy he didn't get at home, for one reason: it was made with love. Draco has heard of love magic, of course, he is the Heir of the Malfoy name, but he never could quite imagine how powerful love could be when cooking. He swore the redheaded lady had actually put magic in her food.

The night before, she had made ham, potatoes, and vegetables. Something so common wouldn't be served at Malfoy Manor or even Nott Court, but Draco couldn't give that any thought after the first time he tasted the Weasley matriarchs cooking.

Of course, Molly's favorite thing to do was overcook and stuff people full of food. This meant she always had leftovers, and somehow if possible, Molly's leftovers tasted even better the day after. So the previous night, Draco had set aside a meals worth of it in a container and put his name on it.

So that next afternoon, when Draco wandered into the kitchen to ask Kreacher for his leftovers, he was bewildered to find out it was gone. At first, he believed it was a Weasley, of course it would be one of them. They had no bloody manners after all (Well not Molly, Arthur or the twins—Just the weasel and the girl he supposed).

So, Draco went on his way to find Sirius to complain. He would understand after all, he has people squatting in his house.

There were few places the older man would be; the library with a glass of whiskey, his room with Lupin and a glass of whiskey, or the kitchen with (drum roll please), yes a glass of whiskey.

Since he obviously was not in the kitchen, and Lupin had been called away for a mission, there was only one place he'd be. Marching towards the Black family library,  he swung the doors open and started complaining without registering the sight in-front of him.

There sat Theodore blood Nott, with a plate of food—his bloody food. Theo, for all the Slytherin in him, was as obvious as a laughing widow at the funeral of her late husband—said husband who died mysteriously of unknown causes. As the Malfoy Heir walked in, the Nott Heir slowed down his chewing with wide eyes. He slowly lowered his fork to his plate, making no noise (pureblood training did have its uses, thank you very much) and slowly swallowed what was already in his mouth.

Draco, for all his faults, complaining was his biggest flaw. He was so into ranting to Sirius, he hadn't noticed his childhood friend in the corner, the culprit as he would later call him, nor did he notice Sirius's eyes widen and shoot a look towards the culprit.

Hoping to tire the young blond out before he noticed his friend slowly melting into the couch, Sirius would occasionally respond with,

"Oh how terrible..." "Definitely that Ronald child..." "How dare he..." (This one was in the same mock outrage he perfected as a second year).

Draco, could be ranted through the house, exploding with,

"It's just common manners, to not touch other people's things..." "I specifically asked for those, you know..." "It's outrageous, to steal from those who need it..."

(The irony of one of the wealthiest Heirs in England—right behind the man he was talking to in fact, and not to mention he was also in line to get the inheritance if something were in fact to happen to said man—had not gone over anyone's head that heard this whining.)

It was actually at this moment Theodore had made himself known. A small snort left his mouth, he loved Draco to pieces but for him to be saying this was hysterical to him. Theodore knew he meant no harm, in reality the boy was just covering up his feelings of hurt that someone would steal something him. But Draco, Draco Lucious Malfoy, complaining about being in need was absolutely one of the funniest things he had ever heard—especially out of the boys mouth.

Draco slowly spun around to see who has made such an offending noise towards him, for his eyes to land on his best friend. He still hadn't noticed the plate of food in his lap (good job, Theodore for having the bright idea to lean over it).

"Can you believe this Theodore?"

The boy in question eyes had widened, "Oh uh, no absolutely not, Draco. Definitely Weasel, you know he has no problem with acting like this. Just think of the first day feast..."

As Theo rambled, something so unlike him, Draco finally took a deep breath at the safety in being with his best friend. He stopped half way though, a familiar scent catching his nose. Draco's head turned slowly towards his friend, who was somehow still rambling (I could never, Draco. I love you too much. Sage would crucify me if I were to do something so ungentalmianly).

Draco finally caught sight of the plate, and Sirius let out a quiet "oh shit." His eyes zeroed in on it.

"Oh no, Theodore, you could never, of course. Not you, Theodore, not my best mate."

"Right you are, Draco, I could never," Theo sent a small smile. One that was not returned.

"But if you did, I would have to rip you limb from limb," Draco drawled watching the boys face pale, "Though you're safe from that rage, obviously, as you'd never do such a thing."

Theo let out a nervous chuckle, "Yeah of course!"

Theodore and Draco stared at each other for a second before the blond quiet, yet very calmly said, "Five."

Theo's eyes widened once again, and Sirius looked oh so very confused.

"Four." Theo moved the plate off his lap and tried to reason with his friend (Come on, Draco, we're friends.) Sirius was starting to understand.

"Three." Theo had now stood up, and Sirius was wondering if he should intervene—though we all know he wouldn't. This was Sirius Blood Black, 'disowned' Gryffindor of the Ancient and Noble house of Black. He would sit back and watch.

"Two." It was very surprising how calm he was, Sirius had pondered, though he was Cissy's boy and Cissy was always eerily calm.

Theodore had now started to make his way towards the door of the library, apologizing profusely. (Something about a promise or vow, Sirius had no idea).

"One." Theo had run out of the room, more like scrambling in Sirius's opinion, as Draco moved towards the couch he once sat at and plopped himself down. He picked up the plate of food and started to eat his leftovers.

Sirius looked at him, the door, back to him, then to the plate, then back to the door and then finally back to the boy before barking out a laugh.

Draco merely ignored his cousin, and continued to relish in Mrs Weasleys magical food.

Remus had found the pair later, Sirius still laughing quietly and Draco looking very smug. (Apparently he had run into a very terrified Theodore, asking if Remus has seen Draco—Did he seem angry still? Angry at what? Oh I don't want to talk about it, but does that mean you saw him? Is he still angry?)

Remus figured Sirius had something to do with it—he grew up with the boy after all and knew exactly what he was capable of. Turns out, Draco had a little bit of the Marauders blood in him after all and didn't need any help from Sirius. (Though, i'm Remus's opinion, Draco was just a little more terrifying than mischievous as he and his friends had been in school.)

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Ryann here! (Finally??) (Yes you can also agree and say finally, no offense will be taken.)

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and are ready to see more!!!