Helios’s Awakening 02

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Helios’s Awakening

Part the Second—
How could we know that this was a happy disaster? I’m glad we crashed and burned.
—“Imperfect for You,” Ariana Grande

Draco Malfoy was all elegance and Helios hated him for it.

He sat in the Tapestry room wearing… it was a shirt with a high collar, which accentuated his slender neck that stretched every time Draco took a sip of his tea.  He held his teacup with the tips of his fingers around the rim, not bothering with the handle, as if he were afraid to burn his fingers.

“Aunt Dromeda explained everything,” he was now saying, his blue-grey eyes betraying nothing as he looked over at the tapestry.  “Quite some time ago, actually.”

Helios wasn’t quite paying attention.  He was too busy looking at Draco’s neck.

Draco smirked.  “Are you listening?”

“Wha—yes.”

“As I was saying,” Draco continued, “Aunt Dromeda explained everything over Christmas.”

Draco’s slim fingers set his teacup into its saucer.  They flicked up and snapped in front of Helios’s gaze.  “I’m right here.”

Helios blinked.  “So-sorry.”

Smirking, Draco took him in.  “No, I don’t think you are.”  He glanced behind him toward the door where their mothers had disappeared.  “Look, it was a beastly business, the tournament.  I understand why you put your name in.”

“I didn’t—”

“I understand why you can’t say.”  He was so blithe about it, it was nearly attractive.  That was the problem.  “The magic is so advanced everyone would be on you.”  He flicked his gaze back toward the door.  “I also understand why Aunt Dromeda pulled you out.  Really, one day you must simply tell me how you did it.”

Helios blinked at him.  “Why do you think I’ll tell you?” he asked in utter bewilderment.

“Because I’m your favorite cousin.”  He sat back with a satisfied smirk on his face, picked up his teacup with the tips of his fingers, and took a long sip, his neck stretching in the process. 

Helios hated that he noticed.

Draco then shrugged.  “I may be your only cousin but your own half-blood of a half-sister won’t even acknowledge you.”

Helios slumped in his seat, thinking about Nymphadora.  “The tapestry doesn’t even show her face.”

“There are ways around that,” Draco promised.  “Drink your tea.  It will fortify you.”

Helios looked down at his tea.  It was a strange cranberry color and was steaming.  He picked it up by the handle and took a sip.  It tasted like—stewed plums despite the color.  He must have made a face because Draco smirked at him.

“Old Black secret.  Father doesn’t even know.”

“Hmm.”  Helios drank another sip and set it back down.  Draco was watching Helios just as closely as Helios was watching him.

Draco continued to stare at him.

Helios picked his cup dutifully back up.

As he took another sip, Draco looked carefully to the side.  “We have a surprise for you.  Father’s friends with the Minister for Magic.”

Helios remembered Minister Fudge.  He’d cozied up to Helios third year when Sirius Black had been on the run and then, fourth year when Helios had been in disgrace, had dropped him like a used bezoar. 

He knew he made a face because Draco smirked again.  “That’s the one.”

“What do I want with him?”

“Fudge likes Father’s support.  It’s useful.”  Draco didn’t elaborate.  “Did you know that England’s hosting the Quidditch World Cup this summer?  It was supposed to be held last year but it got postponed because of the treaties being put in place for the Triwizard Tournament.”

No, no, Helios didn’t know.  He thought he’d maybe heard Seamus say something to Dean, but they usually stopped talking when they noticed Helios was around, so he’d only been able to glean that the World Cup was coming up. 

“Do you have seats or something?”

“Several,” Draco elaborated, pausing to take a sip of his tea.  “Mother doesn’t like the crowds so we were wondering if you’d like to come.  As the newest edition to the clan…” He let it hang there and his blue-grey eyes flashed toward Helios. 

Helios was staring at Draco’s neck again.

Draco sighed and set down his cup.  “Are you listening?”

“Yes, the World Cup.”

“Well, you like Quidditch, don’t you?”

Helios blinked.  “You know I do.”

“Then you’ll come?”  Draco was staring at him again with his blue-grey eyes.

“Come where?”

Draco sat back, exasperated.  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then since you can’t take your eyes off of me.”

Helios was about to protest when Draco flicked his fingers again in Helios’s face. 

“Focus.  We’ll be sharing a tent.”

Helios paid attention to that.  “At the World Cup?”

“Quidditch matches can go on for weeks.  We have to sleep somewhere.  It’s not like we can sleep in the stands if it goes on and on.”  He picked up his tea again elegantly with his long fingers.  They were quite like Andromeda’s, long and thin.  Helios supposed that was only natural since Draco was her nephew.  “We’ll be arriving the day of the game, which happens to be tomorrow.  You arrived just in time.  That shouldn’t be a problem now that you’re here at Grimmauld Place.  Uncle Regulus is coming, too, as his name has now been cleared.”

Ah, yes, Uncle Regulus.  Technically Cousin Regulus, but Helios had been told to call him ‘Uncle.’  He had been accused of being a Death Eater during the War, but apparently that had all been cleared up last week.  No one had told him how exactly.

“Who else is going?” Helios asked, picking up his cup and taking another sip of his plum tea.  It really was rather good and warming, considering how draughty Grimmauld Place was.

“Oh,” Draco said, looking Helios up and down.  “Now, you’re listening, Helios.”

Helios repressed a shiver.  He still couldn’t quite get used to the name.  It had only been a couple of hours.

Draco gave him a perceptive look.  “I see you don’t like it.  You will though.  ‘Harry’ is just so Muggle.”

“Mother said it was ‘plebian.’”

“Ah, you call her ‘Mother’ then.”  Draco looked pleased.

It was true, though.  Helios quite liked calling Andromeda ‘Mother.’  He’d never had a mother before.  Lily had been his ‘mum’ but she had always been an idea rather than an actual person.  Andromeda was flesh and blood and it helped that Helios looked like her son.  He had never actually looked like Lily except when someone mentioned his supposedly green eyes. 

For that matter he had never thought he’d looked like James Potter, either, except for a vague resemblance of messy black hair and a passably similar facial shape.

People saw what they wanted to see. 

Helios looked over at Draco.  “She is my mother.”

Draco’s blue-grey gaze locked with his.  “Exactly the point me spell.—You should respect that she named you ‘Helios.’”

Taking another sip of tea, Helios considered.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how Draco’s blond hair fell into his eyes.  “Mother said all Blacks were named after the heavens.”

“Ah,” Draco agreed.  “Aunt Bellatrix, who is in Azkaban,” he tossed out, “is a star.  My mother is a flower.  Some witches are named for flowers.”  He didn’t seem to much care.  “I’m a constellation.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.  It’s circumpolar.  Never sets.  Unlike the sun.”  He smirked.  “I have you there.”

“Yes, but I outshine you every day,” Helios pointed out, making a motion with his teacup.  “I fill the whole sky with light.”

“Yes, odd to name you for the sun,” Draco agreed.  “I thought that was odd when I was a child.  Of course, I just knew that you were in hiding.  I didn’t know you were—you.  Should have guessed.”  He set down his cup again and flicked his hair away from his eyes, swallowing.  Helios watched the motion obsessively.  “You look like everyone.”

Helios considered.  “Especially without the glasses.”  They had conspicuously disappeared from his bedside table when he woke up in the middle of the morning just before lunch.  He hadn’t needed them, he supposed, and Andromeda, it seemed, was making a point.  “Do you look like your dad?”

Draco closed his eyes as if in pain.  “Father, Helios.  Father.—And yes.  Except for my eyes.  Pure Black.  You’ll notice Mother looks like Aunt Dromeda except for her coloring.  Some of the Blacks have the golden hair.  It shines through.  They say Nymphadora has it.”

“The blonde?”

“Hmm.”  Draco was looking over at the tapestry again.  “Father often goes to the Ministry.   We can infiltrate if you like.”

Helios perked up.  “Do you think?”

“Of course I think,” he scoffed.  “I want to see her as badly as you do.  I’ve been curious about her for years.  There are rumors.”  He glanced toward the door, which had been left slightly open.

Helios slipped out his wand and flicked it toward the door, shutting it.  Uncle Regulus had taken the trace off his wand when he was sleeping.

“Excellent,” Draco complimented.  “Mother won’t like it.”  Still, he leaned forward, setting down his cup and saucer and murmured, “They say she has the Black gift.”

Helios was confused.

“Of course you don’t know.”  Draco glanced at the door again.  “Blacks are occasionally born with the metamorphmagus ability.”  He leaned back.

Helios looked at him oddly.  “What?  They can change what they look like?”

“Exactly,” Draco said.

“As in, they can grow their hair?  If they want to?”

“That’s pretty basic.”

Helios stared at him.  Then, with a quick thought, he got up and rushed to the door, opening it up and shouting, “Kreacher!”

The house elf quickly appeared.  He was as ugly as he had been when Helios arrived.

“Where’s Mother?”

“In the kitchens.”  His voice was unusually gravelly.  Helios hadn’t noticed that before.  He had been half dead on his feet.

Helios looked over his shoulder.  Draco was staring at him oddly.  Then, as if realizing, he got up and came over to Helios. 

Placing his hand on Helios’s arm, he turned him around and asked, carefully, “Are you saying you can grow your hair?”

“Yes?  Always could.  Aunt Petunia would cut it horribly short and I’d grow it back the next day.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he commanded, “Go!” at Kreacher, before slamming the door shut again.  Leading Helios back to the chair and sofa where they had been sitting, he took up his tea again and looked thoughtful. 

“Drink your tea,” he ordered.

“I don’t want—”

“I don’t care what you want,” Draco said carefully.  His cup was grasped elegantly in his fingertips again.  He took a sip and sighed.  “It fortifies you.  I’m not just saying that.  It’s a potion.  Drink up.”

Helios looked at him oddly, but picked up his tea and sipped it.  He perhaps slurped it because Draco looked at him cross-eyed although he did not comment. 

After a few moments where the cousins sat and drank their tea, Draco set down his empty cup and then took a deep breath.

“You should, of course, tell Aunt Dromeda.  She’s your mother.—You should tell no one else.  Not even my mother or father.  Not Uncle Regulus even though this is his house.  Not Uncle Sirius even though he’s technically the head of the family.”

Helios stared at him and then finished his tea in one gulp.

He barely noticed when the teapot picked itself up and replenished both their cups.

“I shouldn’t probably even know,” Draco admitted, “even though I’m your favorite cousin.”  He smirked at this, glancing at Helios.  “Even though you’ve fancied me since last Halloween.”

Helios opened his mouth to protest but Draco only put up his hand to silence him.

“Don’t lie about it.  We both know it’s true.  I’ve seen you looking.  I would have told you if I wanted you to stop.”  He was now looking at Helios out of the corner of his eye.  “But this is serious.  Being a metamorphmagus is power.  The fewer people who know, the better.  This information needs to be controlled.  You can trick anybody, be anybody.  Helios Black can even lose that scar.”  He pointed at Helios’s forehead.

Their eyes connected.

“You might want to think about that.”

Before Helios knew about the wizarding world, before he knew about Voldemort, his scar was the only thing he liked about himself.  Now, though.  Now it was what people recognized. 

“Something to think about,” Draco mused.  “Definitely something to think about.  Did you change your eye color already?”

“Mother took off a glamor.”

“Ah.”  Draco looked pensive.  “You look so much more like us now.  Maybe your scar can be a glamor too.  Or you can put a glamor on.”  He shrugged.  “Think about it.”  He picked up his cup elegantly and took another sip of it.  “Pansy and I aren’t going.”

Helios had picked up his cup and almost dropped it.  “So-sorry?”

“No, you’re not.”  Draco smirked.  “You didn’t take anyone to the Yule Ball, did you?”

“I didn’t go.”

Draco looked like he’d just had a question answered for him.  “I see.  The Weasel made a fool of himself.  He was jealous over your other little friend going with Krum.  I must say Granger cleaned up rather well for a Mudblood.”

Helios felt uncomfortable.

“You’ll need to get used to it.  We all say it.  Maybe not Aunt Dromeda—she married one, but she saw the error of her ways.  She left.  She had the good sense to pursue other avenues of relationships although she can’t wed your sire until Tonks drops dead.  I say Uncle Regulus should do the honors, but that’s a little too obvious.  More’s the shame.”  His eyes were glittering blue.  He was laughing.

Helios picked up his cup again carefully.  “Who is Ted Tonks?  I know nothing about him other than his name.”

Draco squared his shoulders.  “Only if you say my name.”

Helios looked up at him, startled.

“We’ve been in here well over half an hour, Helios, and you’ve yet to call me ‘Draco.’  I’m your cousin.  You’ll notice I haven’t called you ‘Potter’ in months and I haven’t started a duel with you since well before Christmas.”

“There was that time in January after Potions—”

“You got caught in the crossfire. I tripped that Mudblood.  The one with Finnegan.”

Helios thought back.  Dean and Seamus did hang around with Ron, and Draco hated Ron.  The Malfoys hated the Weasleys, and the Weasleys hated the Malfoys.  It was almost Shakespearean. 

“You might be right.”

Draco looked up at him expectantly.  “So—”

Helios took a deep breath.  “Draco.”  There, he had said it.

Preening, Draco’s eyes shot bluer.  “That wasn’t so difficult,” Draco teased.  “Helios.”

Helios glared at him.

Draco looked unrepentant.  “Hee—”

“You don’t have to say it again—”

“lee-ose.”

Helios sighed. 

Draco took a long sip from his tea, his neck stretching from his collar.  Helios hated himself for noticing.  Draco seemed to notice that Helios was noticing.

“Ted Tonks.  Edward Tonks,” Draco clarified, “is a Mudblood.  He’s older than Aunt Dromeda.  They didn’t meet in Hogwarts.  I don’t think he got any N.E.W.T.s.”

Helios grimaced.

Thoughtful for a moment, Draco then continued.  “Anyway, he was conductor of the Knight Bus.  Aunt Dromeda liked to sneak out.  She was a bit wild—like Uncle Sirius.  Muggle loving.  Adventurous.  She would go out and forget her wand so she couldn’t get home, so she would take the Knight Bus.  That’s how they met.  I’m not sure how it happened, teenage rebellion,” he shrugged, “but she ran away with him.  She never finished her N.E.W.T.s and was burnt off the family tree.”  He turned toward the tapestry and pointed.

Helios looked over.  He was beginning to think there should be some magic to repair the tapestry.  He wanted to see his mother’s face stitched on it and not a horrible scorch mark.

“Aunt Dromeda was the oldest of the three sisters.  Aunt Bellatrix reacted badly and turned fanatical.  She became a Death Eater and tortured the Longbottoms with her husband.  They’re in Azkaban.  Mother was the dutiful one and married Father.  That’s obvious because I’m here.  Uncle Sirius followed in Aunt Dromeda’s footsteps.  Muggle loving.  He got himself burnt off the tapestry and ran away to live with James Potter.  He obviously kept in touch with Aunt Dromeda as he hid you for her.”  Draco paused and licked his lips.

Helios traced the movement with his eyes.

“Obviously they should have enlisted my mother’s help instead.—Uncle Regulus went underground and became a Death Eater but he was working on the inside to destroy him.  He’s been working on it for years since before your life was threatened fourteen years ago.  Something about a prophecy about an illegitimate child of a Death Eater.  That’s all we know about your father.  He’s a Death Eater.”  He shrugged.

Helios hummed.  He stored that information away for later.  “It seems like one extreme or the other.”

“It was,” Draco agreed.  He looked at Helios sideways.  “We’re the next generation—with Nymphadora.  How will we turn out?”

Helios startled.  He hadn’t considered that.

“Does Dumbledore have his hooks in you?”

“I—sorry?”

Draco stretched his arm out, holding his cup perfectly in his fingertips. 

Helios noticed—again.

“In Slytherin it seems, at least, before last year,” Draco quickly qualified, “that you were Dumbledore’s pet.  Everyone knows he visited you in the Hospital Wing after you went to the Third Floor Corridor at the end of our first year.”  He stared at Helios.  “And then he gave you all those points and you stole the House Cup.”

Helios stared back.  He supposed it might look that way to an outsider.

“Helios,” Draco pressed.

“So?”

Draco sighed.  “Then you went after the Weaslette second year.”  He looked at Helios again.

“You would have done the same.”

“Would I?”  Draco looked like he would doubt it.  “Considering how the Weasleys have treated you, are you sure you don’t regret it?”

“I—” Helios’s voice stuck in his throat.

“Exactly, Helios.”  Draco gave him a pointed stare, his blue-grey eyes looking out from under his blond hair.  “Third year, we all know something went down with the Dementors.  No one knows what.”

“It was Uncle Sirius,” Helios admitted since it was family.  “Peter Pettigrew was hiding as Ron’s pet rat.”

“Who?”  Draco was clearly confused.

“The wizard he was supposed to have killed.  The Potters’s real secret keeper.  Sirius was innocent.”

“Hmm.”  Draco looked pensive.  “Goes to show.  Still, Dumbledore.”  He sucked on his lip, which was far too distracting. 

Helios quickly looked away.

Draco smirked.

Helios silently cursed himself.

“Then he dropped you when you outwitted his stupid age line.”  Draco grinned.  “Not even the Weasley twins could get past it with all their pranks.  Goes to show you need a Black’s intuition.”

Helios didn’t bother trying to deny it.  He was so sick of it all.  Draco wouldn’t believe him anyway.  If he never revealed his secrets, people would just think he was holding them close to his chest.  The more he denied it, the more people thought he was protesting for form’s sake.

“Well, as you said,” Helios cleared his throat, “no love lost.  He dropped me.”

Draco’s eyes were narrowed as he observed Helios closely.  “Well, we’ll hope that’s it then.”  Changing the topic, he crossed his legs and was careful not to dislodge the tea in his fingers.  “All Blacks, except Uncle Sirius, have been in Slytherin.  It’s been a tradition for nigh on six generations.  It looks like you’ve broken it again, Helios.”  He didn’t seem at all pleased.  “If you were in Slytherin, we could have protected you when you entered the Triwizard Tournament.  This nonsense wouldn’t be allowed to stand.”

Helios’s mind turned back to the Sorting Hat that had wanted to put him into Slytherin, but he pushed the thoughts away.

“As it is, Mother says Aunt Dromeda should demand a resorting.”

“A resorting?”

Draco nodded, his fringe falling farther into his eyes.  “Exactly what I said.  It usually only happens when wizard children are adopted, not that you’ve been adopted, you’ve been reclaimed, but I think Aunt Dromeda should try for it.  Do you really want to be stuck in Gryffindor with Weasel and that lot?”  He scoffed.

No, no, he didn’t, but Helios wasn’t about to admit it.

“Are we really the only Blacks?” Helios asked carefully, looking over at the tree.  “There’s several charred spots.”

“The Squib apparently has descendants, but they should all be Muggles.”  Draco seemed unconcerned.  “I haven’t heard of any coming to Hogwarts.  They’d be as good as Mudbloods anyway.”  His blue-grey eyes flicked to Helios, but Helios was certain not to react this time.  Draco seemed satisfied.  “Aunt Bellatrix never had the chance to have children.  She’s been in Azkaban.  Uncle Sirius has been in Azkaban.  Uncle Regulus has a wife in France, but no one’s said anything about a child.”

Helios perked up.  “A wife?  In France?”

“That’s what Mother said once.”  Draco shrugged.  “But he’s been living underground.  I might have dreamt it.—Best not to ask.”

It was then that there was a knock on the door and Andromeda, dressed in blue robes, swept into the room with a witch who looked very much like her, but with golden hair instead of dark black curls.  This was Aunt Narcissa, Draco’s mother.

“Have you asked him, Draco?” Aunt Narcissa inquired as she swept in after her sister, coming over and picking up a spare teacup.  The teapot immediately began to pour for her.  “Is your cousin coming?”

“Yes,” Draco reported.  “He’s only ever lost one Quidditch match and that was because the Dementors swarmed the pitch.  The Hufflepuff Diggory unfortunately caught the snitch.”

“Yes, it is a shame that boy was chosen for Hogwarts Champion,” Aunt Narcissa agreed.  She passed the cup to Andromeda and picked up another cup for herself.  “Such a disappointment for England.  You should have allowed Helios to compete, Dromeda.”

“You know my feelings on that subject,” Andromeda replied sternly, brooking no argument and effectively closing the subject.  She reached out with her free hand and ran her long fingers through Helios’s unruly black hair as if to reassure herself that he was safe.  “Dumbledore is a fool for allowing children anywhere near the Goblet of Fire.”

Aunt Narcissa hummed as if in agreement.

Draco smirked at Helios over his cup of tea as if to say, what did I tell you?

“Lucius will send over a portkey for Regulus and Helios tomorrow.  That doesn’t give you much time to get him a full wizarding wardrobe.  He must be up to form,” Aunt Narcissa explained, looking down at Helios’s large rugby shirt that had once belonged to Dudley when he was only twelve.  He’d tried to shrink it to make it more presentable, but household charms were not his best.

“It’s all in hand.  I measured him and picked several items out of a catalogue.  Fairy Woven Silk is sending over a basic wardrobe tonight with more pieces to come over the next few days.”

When had Andromeda measured him?  It must have been when he was asleep.  Helios was dead to the world.  He certainly wouldn’t have noticed a tape measure whirring around him.  He wondered if, like at Ollivander’s, it would have measured in between his nostrils and other such oddities that were unnecessary.

“We’ll make quite the young man out of him,” Andromeda said with pride.

Draco gave Helios a haughty look.

After the Malfoys had flooed out, Andromeda led him back to the Tapestry room and asked, “Kreacher said you called for him, but then Draco sent him away.  What was that for?”

“Draco,” Helios admitted, nearly swallowing the name it was so strange to him, “said Nymphadora was a metamorphmagus.”

“She did show signs of it when she was a child,” Andromeda agreed.  “I had heard she uses it in her Auror duties.”  This was said warily and with a shake of her head.

Helios opened his mouth but then shut it.

“What is it, Helios?”

Helios let the name pass.  “Aunt Petunia used to cut my hair really short and I’d grow it back.”

Andromeda blinked.  “Have you done anything else?”

Helios shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  I didn’t want to be the shortest boy in our year and then I had a growth spurt the next day.”

She nodded slowly.  “Tonight, when you go to sleep, I want you to think of something small you want to change.  We’ll see if anything happens in the morning.”

That night, Helios looked in the mirror and traced the scar on his forehead.  He was almost certain Draco didn’t like it.  He used to call him ‘scarhead’ third year.

When he woke up the next morning, it was gone.