The Silent World Within You

Chapter 1: Summer PT4

The weeks pass. Draco avoids Potter as much as he can during the days. It's not difficult to do. Potter spends most of his time wandering through the castle with McGonagall and Flitwick, finding the spots where the wards have weakened--or fallen completely, in some cases. Evenings, however, are filled with flying and Quidditch after dinner. They're nearly silent as they fly now, both of them fixated on the rush of joy as they race each other for the Snitch. Some evenings the other staff come out to watch them. Draco almost thinks McGonagall approves, even on nights one--or both--of them are tight and tense, eager to bruise each other as they try to knock the other's broom out of the way.

Draco wonders if Potter wakes up at night like he does, screaming from a nightmare that he can't seem to shake. Watching him over breakfast some mornings, when Potter's eyes are bloodshot and the circles beneath are dark and purple, Draco's certain of it. At those moments, Draco almost feels sorry for the bastard. It fades, though, when he thinks of his visits to his father in Azkaban, his mother clenching his hand tightly as they wait to see whether Lucius will have a good day or a bad.

Draco's days are spent outside, walking the grounds with Hagrid and Fang, the enormous boarhound that had terrorised Draco during his school years. Now, however, the ridiculous dog has taken a fancy to him and follows him on his rounds. Draco had thought Hagrid set the beast on him as a guard, but Hagrid had laughed that off over tea one afternoon.

"Fang guard anything?" Hagrid had nearly spilled his whisky-laced tea across the tabletop. He'd wiped his eyes with his filthy sleeve. "Not bloody likely, lad. He's just taken a shine to yeh is all. Best let him follow yeh about; there's no stopping him otherwise. He'll tire of it soon enough." He'd reached down and scratched the ears of the huge dog. Fang had whined and leaned into the touch. "Lazy beast, he is."

It's Fang Hagrid sends out to Draco when he's down in the lower lawn, trying to repair a broken fence. Draco swears when the dog nudges his back and barks. The heavy plank he's been levitating falls to the ground with a crash.

Fang barks again, then whines and tugs on Draco's sleeve. Draco pulls away, annoyed. If that plank's broken in half, he'll hex the damned creature. He doesn't care what Hagrid would say.

 "What?"

The dog tugs at him again, nearly dragging him five feet down the fence. His boots slip on the grass, and he ends up on his back, looking up at the blue sky and a slobbering canine face. Fang barks.

Draco clambers to his feet. "Fine. I'll go with you, but if this is just you wanting to play fetch again, I'm locking you in that bloody hut."

Fang takes off; Draco follows. It's only when they enter the Forbidden Forest, that Draco realises what must be happening. The Thestral's foaling.

Hagrid's stooped beside Ismene when Draco reaches the clearing. Firenze is behind him. "Careful," Hagrid says when he looks up. "She's in a bit of pain now, so don't yeh come barrelling over like a first-year."

Ismene bellows, her body shaking with a push. Draco can see a small hoof coming from her flanks. She's on her side and her wings are folded tightly against her body. He squats next to her, reaching out to brush his fingertips against her mane. Hagrid starts to say something, but Firenze touches his shoulder.

"Let the boy be," he says.

Draco strokes Ismene's neck. The Thestral calms for a moment, stilling. "You'll be fine, beautiful," he whispers. He can see Ismene's stallion out of the corner of his eye, tossing his head and stomping his hoof against the patchy grass. Draco's not afraid of him. Instead his fingers slide along Ismene's hair, smoothing down over her back, and across her flank. She tenses again for another push, but this one's easier somehow, and another hoof slides from Ismene's body."Is she all right?" Draco asks softly. He doesn't stop stroking Ismene's side. The Thestral nudges him with her beak, and he smiles down at her. Sweat glistens off her hair, and it shines more than usual.

"She's nearly there," Firenze says. He moves so that Hagrid can take his place at Ismene's flanks. "Just a few more pushes."

Draco watches as Ismene strains again, and a small beak appears. He's never seen a birth before, not even the time his Kneazle had a litter. The elves hadn't let him near her lest he get bitten or scratched. He's amazed as Hagrid gently takes the tiny head that emerges, guiding it as the shoulders follow.

Ismene rests, her foal half out of her body. She looks up at Draco, nips his trousers lightly. Her white eyes seem to glow. "You're doing well," he murmurs. "Get through this and I'll give your wings the best oiling they've ever had." He can see her bones through her thin skin. "And I'll find a nice fat bird or two for your dinner, how's that?" "Give us another push, love," Hagrid says. He cradles the tiny Thestral's shoulders in his huge hands. Ismene closes her eyes and snuffs. "Just one more." Draco smoothes back her mane. "You can do it."

Ismene looks up at him. She nudges his hand, and whinnies softly before tensing her body again. A moment later, the foal slides free, its tiny wings unfurling as Hagrid helps settle it on the ground. It hesitates, turning its head and fluttering its wings for a moment before it twists, leaning towards Ismene as it opens its mouth silently. The umbilical cord stretches between them, then breaks.

"Look at that littl'un," Hagrid says proudly. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes his hands on it before dabbing it at his wet eyes. "She's a looker, inn't she, Firenze?" Firenze beams at the Thestral. It scootches on its knees over to Ismene, and she raises one wing tiredly, drawing her foal to her side. It eyes Draco with bright grey eyes. He reaches out to touch its gunmetal grey coat. The stallion moves forward with a sharp snuff, but Ismene turns her head to him and clacks her beak. He steps back as Ismene nudges Draco's hand to her foal.

Its mane is still slick and sticky, but it turns its head into Draco's touch, and he laughs when it tries to nip his fingertips. "Wretch."

"What will you name her?" Firenze asks, and it takes a moment before Draco looks up.

"Me?"

Fireze laughs. "I'd say you've the right, wouldn't you, Hagrid?" Hagrid looks up from cleaning off the Thestral. "Fine by me." Draco studies the small foal. "A girl, right?" At Firenze's nod, he bites his lip. "Druella," he says finally. "That was Grandmother Black's name. She was always kind to me since Mother was her favourite." He looks up. "Not that that was difficult, all things considered."

"Druella then." Hagrid stands up and claps his heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. "Let's leave mum and baby to bond a bit. Merlin knows I could use a pint or two after that." He glances over at Firenze. "Join us at me hut?" Firenze looks up at the sky. It's clouding over. "I'd best be returning to my herd." "Suit yerself." Hagrid still hasn't moved his hand. "More for Malfoy and me to drink, but send my regards to yer family. Off we go then, lad. There's a bottle or two of lager in my cupboard with our names on 'em." With a backwards glance at the small foal curled beside her mother, Draco follows Hagrid and Fang through the forest. "Yer doin' all right with Harry about?" Hagrid asks finally.

Draco's crawling over a half-rotted log, holding his breath. He's rather afraid something's crawled up inside to die. When he exhales, he looks over at Hagrid. "Well enough, I suppose." He sniffs. "Don't worry. I've no intention of annoying Professor McGonagall." "Headmistress McGonagall," Hagrid corrects. Dried leaves crunch beneath his boots. "And I dinn't say yeh did. Just asking. Harry's a good lad, but he's got a chip on his shoulder when it comes to yeh." He gives Draco a pointed look. "Reckon yeh've got the same for him."

Draco shrugs. "He's a prat, but he saved us all from a megalomaniacal madman, so I suppose I'll behave myself." He stiffens his shoulders. "I've no wish to give you reason to cart me off to Azkaban." Hagrid stops and turns, looking back at Draco. "Yeh think I'd do that." Draco wraps his arms around himself. The forest is shadowed and cold in this spot. It unnerves him, even with Fang plodding along beside them. He remembers a night years ago, walking along with them and Potter, seeing a bloodstained monster bent over a dead unicorn. He shivers. "Most people would. It seems they find me annoying." He hesitates. "Among other things."

"Yeh are annoying," Hagrid says gruffly. "Particularly when yeh get all poncy. But mind me words, Malfoy. I've been in Azkaban before, and I got no wish to send anyone, least of all yeh, to that godforsaken place. Do yeh understand?" Draco looks up at him. "Not really."Hagrid snorts. "For all yer a bloody swot, Draco Malfoy, there's times I doubt yeh've a lick of sense in that brain of yers." He sighs and cuffs Draco on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. Draco catches himself on a tree. "Yer not going to Azkaban, so just shut it about that, all right?" He stomps off towards the edge of the forest, Fang bounding behind him.After a moment, Draco follows, lost in his own thoughts.

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