╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑂𝑁𝐸] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Malfoy Manor
- Wiltshire, England
( August, 1993. )

                            𝓣he air inside Malfoy Manor was heavy, as it always seemed to be. Shadows stretched long across the stone floors, and the flickering light from enchanted sconces did little to soften the ominous feel of the vast hallways. Esme Lestrange and Draco Malfoy had learned long ago how to navigate these corridors in silence, moving like ghosts between their rigidly structured world and the secrets they weren't supposed to hear.

Esme sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor of the east wing, a deck of enchanted playing cards spread out in front of her. The cards shuffled themselves in midair, but she barely paid them any mind. Draco was sprawled beside her, leaning against the wall with a book open in his lap. He wasn't reading it, though; his gray eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"I heard Father talking to someone earlier," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. Esme, though not his blood, may well have been his sister. Draco and Esme barely had anyone other than each other.

Esme glanced up. "And?"

Draco's gaze flicked toward her, his expression a mix of curiosity and irritation. "And they didn't want me to hear it. Which means it's probably something interesting."

Esme sighed, gathering the cards into a neat stack. "Do you always have to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?"

Draco smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in that familiar, mischievous way. "Of course. How else would we ever know anything around here?"

Before Esme could respond, voices carried through the hallway-low and urgent. She stiffened, recognizing the tones of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Draco perked up instantly, closing his book with a soft snap.

"Come on," he whispered, motioning for Esme to follow.

She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity got the better of her. Rising to her feet, she followed Draco down the hall, keeping close to the wall as the voices grew clearer. They stopped just outside the seating room, where the grand double doors had been left slightly ajar.

"You're sure about this?" Narcissa's voice, usually calm and composed, was laced with unease.

"Of course I'm sure," Lucius replied, his tone clipped. "The Ministry may try to downplay the situation, but Sirius Black's escape is a catastrophe. He's been missing for three days, Narcissa-three. And we've only just been informed."

Esme felt a chill run down her spine at the name. Sirius Black. She had heard whispers of him before, but only in passing-always in the context of treachery and murder.

"What if he comes here?" Narcissa's voice was quieter now, almost trembling.

"He won't," Lucius said firmly. "His only target is Potter. That much is obvious."

Esme glanced at Draco, who looked more intrigued than alarmed. She tugged at his sleeve, whispering, "Potter? What does Black want with him?"

"Shh," Draco hissed, brushing her hand away.

Inside the room, Lucius continued. "Black's fixation on the boy is both his weakness and our advantage. The Ministry will focus all its efforts on keeping Potter safe, which means the rest of us can remain... unbothered."

"And what if the boy draws Black straight to Hogwarts?" Narcissa pressed. "If Dumbledore gets involved-"

"Dumbledore is already involved," Lucius snapped. "That old fool has his claws in every corner of the wizarding world. But Black is no longer our concern, Narcissa. He's a desperate man, nothing more. He'll be captured soon enough."

"But what if Lucius." Narcissa hissed, "our children Lucius-"

"-Will be fine." Lucius snapped back, attempting to disregard her worries with a wave of his hand.

There was a pause, and Esme held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

"We can't afford to ignore this, Lucius," Narcissa said softly. "If Black truly intends to finish what he started all those years ago..."

Lucius cut her off with a sharp sigh. "Enough, Narcissa. This is not our burden to bear. The Ministry will handle it."

The conversation shifted after that, their voices fading as they moved deeper into the seating room. Esme let out the breath she'd been holding and stepped back from the door.

Draco followed, his expression unreadable. "Well," he said after a moment, "that was enlightening."

"Enlightening?" Esme whispered harshly. "Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, and they think he's after Harry Potter. How is that enlightening?"

Draco shrugged. "It confirms what I already suspected. Potter attracts trouble like a moth to a flame."

Esme folded her arms, her brow furrowing. "Do you think he's really in danger?"

"Potter?" Draco scoffed. "Doubt it. He's got half the wizarding world protecting him. Black would have to be mad to try anything especially at Hogwarts."

Esme didn't respond. Something about the conversation-and the way Narcissa had spoken-left her feeling uneasy. She had always been good at reading between the lines, and there was more to this than Lucius or Narcissa had admitted.

Draco nudged her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Stop worrying. If anything happens, we'll hear about it soon enough. And if Potter gets himself killed..." He smirked. "Well, that would certainly make things more interesting, wouldn't it?"

Esme rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She knew Draco well enough to recognize when he was deflecting, even from her. Despite his bravado, she could tell that the conversation had unsettled him too.

"Come on," he said, starting down the hall. "Let's find something better to do than eavesdrop."

Esme lingered for a moment, her gaze drifting back toward the seating room. The weight of her family name pressed heavily on her shoulders, as it always did, but tonight it felt heavier somehow, as though it had been tied to something darker.

With a quiet sigh, she turned and followed Draco down the corridor, her mind already racing with questions she wasn't sure she wanted answered.

As they walked back down the long corridor, the tension of what they had overheard lingered in the air. Esme's thoughts swirled, and she glanced at Draco, who looked far more casual than she felt. But she knew him well-his indifference was an act, a way to mask the questions bubbling under the surface.

After a moment, she broke the silence. "Draco... whose side was Sirius Black on? In the war, I mean."

Draco slowed his pace, his expression flickering with confusion. "Sirius Black?" He shrugged, though the question had clearly caught him off guard. "I don't know. I suppose, in the end, it was the Dark Lord's."

Esme frowned. "Because he betrayed the Potters?"

"That's what the Ministry says," Draco admitted, his tone skeptical. "But honestly, I've never been sure. You'd think Father would have mentioned him more if he was really one of us, wouldn't you? Instead, the only time they talk about Black, it's with disgust. Especially Mother, they're cousins."

Esme tilted her head. "Why?"

"Because he's a blood traitor," Draco said bluntly, his voice dripping with disdain. "That's the only thing I've ever heard them agree on when it comes to Black. Father calls him a disgrace to the Black family name. Says he was an embarrassment even before he was locked up."

"A blood traitor?" Esme repeated, her brows knitting together. "But he betrayed the Potters."

Draco sighed, as if exasperated by the entire topic. "Exactly. It doesn't make sense, does it? Betraying the Potters should've made him loyal to the Dark Lord, but no one in our family talks about him like he was. And Father wouldn't hesitate to claim him if he were. He's always quick to name the Dark Lord's allies, especially the ones with connections to powerful bloodlines. But with Black? It's always the same: 'filthy blood traitor,' 'waste of a name.' "

Esme considered this, her fingers fiddling with the edges of her sleeve. "So... you don't actually know whose side he was on?"

Draco shrugged again, but this time, his smirk was absent. "No. And I don't think anyone really does, except maybe Dumbledore or the Dark Lord himself. But it doesn't matter, does it? He's completely mad, locked away for twelve years, and now he's escaped. He's a danger, no matter what side he was on back then."

Esme didn't respond right away. The confusion surrounding Sirius Black-blood traitor, murderer, betrayer-left her unsettled. She was used to the world being painted in absolutes. There was good and bad, loyalty and betrayal, and the Malfoys always made sure she knew where she was supposed to stand. But Sirius Black didn't fit neatly into any of those categories, and that made her uneasy.

"Why do you even care?" Draco asked suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"I don't," Esme lied. "It's just... strange, that's all. The way they were talking about him. He must've been important, once."

Draco gave her a curious look but didn't press further. "Important or not, he's not our problem. Let the Ministry deal with him. Or Potter, for that matter. You worry too much."

Esme didn't respond. She let Draco's words hang in the air as they rounded another corner, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls.

"Come on," Draco said after a moment, his tone lightening. "We've wasted enough time skulking around. Let's find something more fun to do before dinner."

Esme followed him without protest, but her thoughts remained with the man they had overheard. Sirius Black, a name wrapped in mystery, tied to Potter, and now apparently a threat to everything the Malfoys held dear.

As they disappeared down the hallway, she couldn't help but wonder: who had Sirius Black really been? And why did it feel like the answer was more important than anyone wanted to admit?

Esme followed Draco down the hall, her feet moving automatically while her mind raced. Sirius Black was a puzzle she couldn't shake, no matter how much Draco dismissed him. There was something about the way Lucius and Narcissa had spoken-more than worry, there had been a flicker of fear. And fear wasn't something she associated with her aunt and uncle.

Draco slowed as they reached one of the smaller sitting rooms near the west wing, one of the few places in Malfoy Manor that felt remotely comfortable. He flopped down onto the plush armchair near the hearth and motioned for Esme to join him.

"So," he said, draping one arm over the side of the chair, "what's bothering you now?"

Esme sat cross-legged on the ottoman across from him, her fingers picking at the edge of her sleeve. "Don't you think it's odd that your parents don't want to talk about him? Or that they can't even agree on why he's dangerous?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "They don't need to agree. He escaped Azkaban, didn't he? That makes him dangerous enough."

"But they said he's after Harry Potter," Esme pressed. "Why? What does Black want with him?"

Draco rolled his eyes, but there was an edge of frustration in his voice when he answered. "How should I know? Maybe he wants revenge for You-Know-Who's fall. Maybe he wants to finish what he started. Or maybe he's just mad after twelve years locked up with dementors. Does it really matter?"

Esme frowned. "It matters if he's not who everyone says he is."

Draco leaned forward, his expression more serious now. "Esme, why do you care so much about this? Black's a criminal, and if he's after Potter, good riddance. One less Gryffindor to deal with."

"It's not about Potter," Esme said, her voice quieter now. "It's about... I don't know. The way your parents talk about him, like they don't know what side he was really on. Like no one knows. Doesn't that bother you?"

Draco sat back again, his lips pressing into a thin line. "No," he said after a moment. "Because it doesn't change anything. Black is dangerous. He's out there, and if Father's worried about him, then so am I. End of story."

Esme watched him for a moment, studying the way his expression hardened when he wanted to end a conversation. She knew Draco well enough to see through his defenses. He wasn't as indifferent as he wanted her to believe.

"So, you are worried then," she said softly, his eyes flicked to her own, realization setting in that he had admitted it aloud.

Draco, for a moment, didn't respond. Then he smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Thats not what I meant." He deflected, "I'm not worried. I'm just smart enough to know when something's worth paying attention to."

Esme leaned back, crossing her arms. "So what are you paying attention to?"

Draco hesitated, then shrugged. "Black's dangerous, but Father's right-he's not our problem. If he's really after Potter, Dumbledore and the Ministry will deal with it. But if he's after something else..." He trailed off, his smirk fading entirely.

"What else would he be after?" Esme asked.

Draco shook his head. "I don't know. But you heard Mother-she's scared. And she doesn't scare easily."

That admission hung in the air between them, heavier than Esme expected. Draco rarely acknowledged Narcissa's fears, let alone his own.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the crackling of the hearth the only sound. Then Draco stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his robes.

"Come on," he said, his tone brisk. "We'll find out soon enough. We always do."

Esme followed him reluctantly, but her mind was far from settled. Draco was right about one thing: if Narcissa was scared, there was more to Sirius Black's escape than they'd overheard. And whatever it was, Esme had the sinking feeling it was only the beginning.

Dinner at Malfoy Manor was always a formal affair, even when it was just the four of them. The dining room was cavernous, with an impossibly long table and a chandelier that sparkled ominously above their heads. Esme always found it a bit much, but she'd learned long ago to keep her thoughts to herself when it came to the Malfoys' way of doing things.

Draco led the way, his usual swagger returning as they entered the room. Lucius and Narcissa were already seated, their expressions composed as ever. A feast of roasted meats, vegetables, and ornate dishes was spread across the table, as though they were hosting a grand banquet instead of a simple family meal.

"Draco, Esme," Narcissa said warmly, gesturing for them to sit. "You're just in time."

Esme slid into her seat across from Draco, next to Narcissa. She caught Lucius's sharp gaze for a moment before he returned his attention to the wine glass in his hand.

The meal began in silence, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery and the occasional soft murmur of the house-elves scurrying about. Esme could feel the tension in the room like a tangible thing, though no one addressed it outright.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. "So, Father," he began casually, spearing a piece of roasted parsnip with his fork, "any news from the Ministry today?"

Lucius's gaze flicked to Draco, and for a moment, Esme thought he might snap at him for prying. But instead, he leaned back in his chair, his expression cool and measured.

"Nothing of interest," he said smoothly. "Though I imagine you've already heard the rumors about Black."

Draco smirked. "Not much no, just some mumbling from the Gaunt's about it."

"And what have did Miss Gaunt tell you about it?" Lucius asked, his tone deceptively light. A bit of disdain as the words escaping his mouth. Lucius never liked his son's closeness with Priscilla Gaunt, despite her being from an impressive family - despite constantly trying, Draco and Esme could never find out why Lucius disliked Priscilla Gaunt.

Draco shrugged. "Just that he's escaped and that the Ministry is in a panic. Oh, and that he's after Potter, of course." He said this last part with a sneer, as though the idea of Sirius Black being fixated on Harry Potter was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

Lucius's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "The Ministry's incompetence never ceases to amaze me. Twelve years they've had him locked away, and now he slips through their fingers like smoke."

Narcissa, who had been quietly sipping her wine, shot Lucius a sharp look. It was brief but unmistakable, her cool eyes narrowing ever so slightly in warning. Esme noticed it immediately; Narcissa was telling him to end the conversation.

Lucius caught the look and raised an eyebrow at his wife, but after a moment, he inclined his head slightly, an unspoken agreement passing between them. He turned back to his plate, his expression once again unreadable.

"Enough of that," Narcissa said, her voice calm but firm, as though the topic were merely a dull inconvenience. "This is a family dinner, not a discussion of Ministry failures."

Draco looked mildly annoyed at the interruption but didn't press further. Esme, however, couldn't let go of her curiosity. She glanced between Lucius and Narcissa, trying to piece together what they weren't saying.

"Why is everyone so afraid of him?" she asked softly, her voice almost hesitant.

Lucius's gaze flicked to her, sharp as a blade. "Because Sirius Black is a madman," he said, his tone cold. "A traitor to his blood and a murderer with nothing left to lose. That makes him dangerous."

"Lucius," Narcissa said quietly, her voice carrying a warning edge.

"What?" Lucius drawled, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "The girl asked a question. It's only polite to answer."

Narcissa's lips tightened, but she said nothing further, instead returning her attention to her plate.

Esme felt a chill run through her, though she wasn't sure if it was Lucius's words or the way he said them. She glanced at Draco, who seemed unfazed, casually eating as though none of this concerned him.

"But why Potter?" Esme pressed, unable to stop herself. "Why would Black go after him now, after all this time?"

Lucius set down his fork with a deliberate clink, his expression hardening. "Because Potter is at the center of everything," he said, his voice low and full of disdain. "The boy who lived, the symbol of the Dark Lord's downfall. Black has always had a flair for theatrics-going after Potter would certainly make a statement."

Esme opened her mouth to ask another question, but Narcissa cut her off with a pointed look.

"That's enough," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "There's no need to discuss this any further. Not tonight."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension palpable. Esme dropped her gaze to her plate, suddenly feeling out of place at the lavish table.

Draco, ever perceptive when it came to her moods, nudged her foot under the table. When she looked up, he gave her a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say, Let it go.

Reluctantly, she nodded, forcing herself to focus on her food. The rest of the meal passed in strained quiet, the earlier conversation lingering like a dark cloud.

As they finished dessert and the house-elves began clearing the table, Lucius rose from his seat, his movements graceful and precise.

"I have business to attend to in the study," he announced, his tone clipped. He paused, his eyes landing on Esme. "I trust you'll find better ways to occupy your thoughts, Esme, than dwelling on matters that don't concern you."

Esme nodded quickly, though his words stung.

With that, Lucius swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. Narcissa stood as well, placing a gentle hand on Esme's shoulder as she passed.

"Don't trouble yourself with Sirius Black," she said softly, her voice much kinder than Lucius's had been. "Some things are best left in the past."

Esme nodded again, but the questions swirling in her mind refused to quiet.

As soon as they were alone, Draco leaned back in his chair, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, that was pleasant, wasn't it?" he said dryly.

Esme shot him a look. "You're not curious at all? About Black?"

Draco smirked. "Oh for sure. But I'm smart enough not to ask too many questions. You should try it sometime."

Esme rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She knew Draco wasn't as indifferent as he pretended to be. But for now, she let the matter drop, though she couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning of something much larger.