The thick orange aroma lingers in the air after Draco takes the last bite of his marmalade toast. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, Theo just finishes nibbling through a third of his breakfast; the edges of what's left of the bread are jagged and uneven from teeth marks.

"A woodworker?" Draco questions after swallowing the last bite. "I don't know about that. Sitting all day, repairing and building cabinets would be quite dull, don't you think?"

Since they started discussing their shared talent, Theo had been informing Draco of the sorts of professions people with their talents tend to choose. And while the titles associated with the most advanced of healers sound quite respectable. Partaking in magical painting or furniture-making remains beneath Draco's pride as a Malfoy.

Theo shrugs, like he's been doing all morning any time Draco shows disagreement. "You don't have to work with cabinets. There's always constructing houses and creating the most complex wards that you can. Or you could build a school." The other boy looks away from his toast and to Draco. "The people who built Hogwarts were like us."

"What?" At that, Draco sits up straight. "You're saying we're like the Founders?!" The possibility that Draco shares a talent with Salzaar Slytherin himself sets excitement coursing through him.

"No," Theo says, his expression neutral, " the architects who built Hogwarts with them were."

Draco sags just a little. "Oh well, there's only one Hogwarts. No one else needs to be building another one. That would just be ridiculous. Who would even go when the best school in the entire world is right there."

Theo is silent as he sets his plate to the side, curling his freed hands around his knees.

"Father says that we'll need to build another school one day. When our numbers grow like they should." The boy's voice is quiet and calm, even if his eyes have a sharpness to them.

Mother's eyes were sharp like that yesterday, when she was talking to Greengrass before Draco had snuck away.

"We'll have to build houses too. And other streets, not just a few like in Diagon Alley. But whole city's worth of alleys and avenues." The words echo like recollections, like the faded remnants of a father's lecture to his son.

There's a stillness to the other boy, a moment where Draco isn't even sure Theo is breathing before the other boy shudders, gasping softly as his gaze slides off of Draco and to the floor.

"Are you alright?! Theo–"

"Can we go outside?" Theodore cuts him off. His eyes vibrant and wide when they refocus on Draco. His skin's as pale as it was yesterday when Draco first came across him.

"What? But you hate going outside." Draco blurts out. Theodore always, always looks disdainful when he's forced out onto the Manor's grounds.

Theodore stares at him in surprise. "I don't hate going outside."

"Yes you do. You always look displeased. Every single time." Draco gestures at the room, his fork clinking against the plate beside him as both shift from his movement on the bed. "You prefer reading indoors and...Well, you only read. So, you like reading in the library and in your bedroom."

Theodore gapes at him. "No, that's," he stutters, "I don't just read indoors. I paint and listen to music." A flush creeps into his cheeks as the strongest sign of color Draco's ever seen in Theodore Nott.

"I go outside, too. The sunlight looks nice on the pages when I'm–not just reading! We work in the gardens too. Mother and I..." And just like that, the color from Theodore's face drains away again as his eyes shine with the threat of tears.

Draco rushes in, arms already wrapping around Theo because the boy can't start crying again. He just can't.

Yet, this time, Theodore swallows down the cries he looked about to make and instead asks quietly "Can we go outside?"

His voice doesn't even wobble; it's just so low that Draco can only hear him because they're so close to each other with Theo's breath a whisper against his shoulder.

"Yes, of course." Draco nods, pulling back from Theodore and scrambling right off the bed. "We can walk the grounds. And," Not play quidditch, Theodore must still hate quidditch. "And see the peacocks."

Oh Salzaar, there really isn't much to do outside besides racing around on a broom. Well, Mother hosts parties among the white roses, but they're not having a party. Not with only Draco and Theodore there. So, what are they supposed to do after looking at the overgrown birds?

Nothing comes to mind as Theodore crawls off the bed, the mostly empty dishes left in a scattered mess behind him. One by one, the plates and loose crumbs on the quilt cover disappear as one of the house elves' magic sets to work vanishing the mess.

Theodore jolts, looking over his shoulder to some space behind him. The dishes stop disappearing.

"Theodore?" Draco questions before a figure sketches itself into existence beside the bed. The house elf's floppy ears solidify first, followed by the large luminous eyes they all have. For the life of him, Draco couldn't recognize a single one of the house elf's by their face except for his grandfather's haggardly old elf. Yet, the pale green eyes of this one could only belong to Dobby, the one who irons his hands the most since he's terrible at following orders.

The house elf's gaze darts back and forth between the boys, lingering a fraction longer on Theodore. The creature doesn't say a word as Theo keeps staring at it.

"Dobby!" Draco admonishes, drawing himself up just like Father. "You're not supposed to let yourself be seen by guests!" It's one thing if a house elf has to be visible around the Malfoys themselves. No creature has the magic to remain invisible forever. But everyone knows that elves stay out of sight in the presence of their betters, especially if they're guests.

"Sorry, Master Draco, Dobby was unseen, but he didn't want to be rude. Not with Mister Nott startled as he was." The house elf wrings his very long fingers together as his gaze keeps flickering back and forth between the boys.

"Startled!" Draco snaps. "Who wouldn't be by you appearing like that! I'm telling Father that you're acting up again!" Father tends to have the best punishments for disobedient house elves. Just last week, Dobby, who undercooked dinner again , had to boil his hands to make up for it. Who knows what Father will come up with this time for such a breach in proper conduct.

"Sorry, Master Draco, no need to tell Master Malfoy! Dobby is misbehaving, so Dobby will punish himself for it." And with that, the house elf turns to the nearest bedpost and starts thwacking his own head against it.

The dull sound bounces off the walls as Draco watches not being able to look away to check Theodore's reaction. It's not really funny, not without Father's commentary that he makes when he's the one punishing the house elves. But Draco can't do anything else but supervise like a proper pureblood is supposed to do.

"I saw him before he came back into sight." Theodore's quiet voice cuts through Draco's daze, pulling his attention right to the boy standing not so far away.

"When he was making the dishes vanish, I caught his shadow out of the corner of my eyes and then I saw him." Theodore's still staring at the elf, he doesn't even glance at Draco as he speaks. "I've never done that before."

"Wait, you could see the house elf when he was all invisible?" The admission strikes Draco, leaving him a little stunned. He can't see house elves. No one can when they choose to make themselves unseen. "Are you sure? Dobby breaks the rules all the time. He must have been visible just a little."

"Yes, I'm sure." Theodore says steadily, even if his words are quiet.

"Dobby! Stop that!" The sudden absence of that dull sound brings about a brief sense of relief. It was getting...irritating. Yes, it was getting irritating listening to the house elf hurt himself. Draco's palms are even all sweaty from the irritation.

"Make yourself invisible again! Right this instant!" Draco commands, nerves boiling in his stomach.

Dobby straightens, one hand releasing its grip from the bedpost as the elf raises it into the air and snaps his fingers, his figure rippling out of view.

The bedpost sits clearly visible behind where Dobby should be; yet, no matter how much Draco squints, he can't see the house elf at all. Only the wall and furniture ahead remain in sight. The house elf is as invisible as he should be, but sweat still prickles the palms of Draco's hands.

"I see you." Theodore's clear voice precedes the boy's movements forward. Step by step, Theo walks until he must be only a foot from where Dobby was standing. "You look like the shadows that lie under the leaves in our garden."

Line by line, the house elf comes back into view. With his gaze no longer flickering and his thick lips curled into a frown, Dobby stares solely at Theodore Nott.

"Those shadows must be very old, Mister Nott, if they remind you of Dobby."

"How are shadows old?" Draco asks. Shadows don't have ages. They're just there when the sun's up and gone when it isn't. They don't really exist, not like the old wood that makes up the Manor and the older relics that Father keeps locked away in its rooms.

Dobby looks at him instead of Theo, the solemness in his large pale eyes weighing down on Draco as he stares right back.

"When they sit for a long, long time, shadows grow old, Master Draco. It's just the way they are. But wizards never notice them. Only us elves when we need to be unseen. It's servants' magic, so we wrap ourselves in them when our Masters want us to."

Dobby looks back at Theo. "Mister Nott shouldn't be seeing through servants' magic. No wizard can. It isn't proper. He needs to look away and forget soon like he should. And Dobby will be invisible again like he's supposed to be." The house elf smiles almost more like a grimace than anything else. " Mister Nott and Master Draco should go outside and play free in the light. Leave Dobby to clean up this mess before Master Malfoy or Lady Malfoy call him."

With that, the house elf turns his attention away from the two boys. His back slouched, he remains visible as he snaps his fingers, disappearing the remaining dishes. With another snap of his elongated fingers, Dobby vanishes from sight. The silence between the two boys only stretches for so long.

"He's gone." Theodore states to the empty space in front of him.