Letters To A Friend (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

XI.

Before I know it, the holiday is over.

The days at Grimmauld Place have blurred into a strange, heavy fog of quiet meals, restless nights, and the constant worry for Dad. I'd spent most of the break holding my breath, hoping he'd recover, hoping we wouldn't lose him too. But as the holidays came to a close, he was finally well enough to leave St. Mungo's, and Mum had smiled for the first time in weeks. It should've felt like a relief.

It didn't.

Now, as the Hogwarts Express fills with the usual chatter and movement, I can't bring myself to join them. Ginny calls my name, something about finding a seat, but I barely hear her. My feet are already carrying me away, down the narrow corridor, further and further, until I reach the back of the train. An empty compartment.

Good.

I slide in, shutting the door behind me and sinking into the seat by the window. The rhythmic clatter of the train beneath me begins, but my mind drifts back to the last few days at Grimmauld Place.

It had been late one night, not long before we left for King's Cross. I was headed down to the kitchen for some water when I heard the low, familiar voice of Professor Snape coming from the sitting room. I stopped midtrack, my heart skipping a beat at the sound of Hogwarts' Potion Master. What was he doing here?

I edged closer, listening just long enough to catch the word Occlumency. He was talking to Harry. Something about learning to guard his mind... from You-Know-Who.

I'd heard of Occlumency before, in passing. The ability to keep someone out of your thoughts, to protect yourself from those who could pry into your mind. I'd always known some people could do that-read minds, that is-but now, sitting here, alone at the back of the train, I can't stop wondering.

Has anyone ever done that to me?

My thoughts have been a mess for months. If anyone at Hogwarts could read minds, they must find mine unbearable by now. They must be sick of it. All this sadness, this anger, this constant pretending...

I lean my forehead against the cold glass of the window, my breath fogging up the view of the passing countryside. The train's rhythm isn't soothing, not really, but it's something to focus on. Something to drown out the spiral of thoughts that never seems to stop.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to shake the uneasy thoughts, but they cling to me like shadows. I need a distraction, something to pull me away from my own mind. Reaching into my bag, my fingers brush against the worn spine of a book I'd borrowed-or rather, taken-from Sirius before we left.

Well, I suppose borrowed isn't the right word. I had asked him if I could borrow it, but he'd only shrugged, muttering something about how I could keep it for all he cared. He didn't read much these days anyway, he'd said, his voice rough around the edges. There had been a sadness in his eyes when he handed it over, but he'd smiled at me, a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. I'd taken the book, unsure of what to say, but grateful for the gesture.

Now, I pull it out and run my fingers over the faded cover. It's an old thing, probably something that had been sitting on the Black family shelves for years. The title, Coldex of Eldritch and Forgotten Magic, is etched in peeling gold lettering, and I can't help but wonder if Sirius had ever read it himself when he was my age, trying to escape the darkness that seemed to cling to Grimmauld Place as much as it clings to me now.

I open to the first chapter, letting the words pull me in. It's about ancient magic, and forgotten spells that are no longer taught at Hogwarts. There's something about it that feels... right. Like these old, discarded spells understand what it's like to be pushed aside, overlooked, forgotten.