CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - Merry Malfoy

Attuoria and Draco stood outside of Borgin and Burkes in silence. The streets were bare, making its dark exterior all the more gloomy.

They both stared at the cobblestone quietly, avoiding each other's gaze. Draco was wearing a pair of shiny black leather shoes that fitted perfectly with the black trench coat he had over his shoulders. It had the same stitching and style as the dark grey trench coat Attuoria was currently wearing. Twilfitt and Tattings. Narcissa must have purposely bought them the same type of coat.

The two weren't exactly on good terms. Any friendly relationship between them was hanging by a thread, and it wasn't because they didn't like each other.

"How's Christmas with the Weasley's?" Draco said quietly, venom laced in his bitter tone. He seemed like he had more to say, but he bit his lip and waited for her to respond.

"It's pretty good," said Attuoria. It would obviously be better if Mr Weasley wasn't in the hospital, but she wasn't going to mention that to Draco. "How about you? Spending time with your family?"

Draco casted a quick sideways glance at her before staring at the ground again. "My family isn't really the 'holiday spirit' type. Neither am I, for that matter."

"Oh."

They went silent again. The moth-eaten sign that hung above the deserted shop in front of them let out a screech as it swayed with an incoming breeze.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what I said in Potions," said Attuoria, finally bringing up what she had wanted to say weeks ago. "I didn't mean it. Although I do think Snape favours you, I don't doubt your ability to make potions, or your abilities as a wizard. I just needed to get detention with Snape. It wasn't anything personal against you, I promise."

Draco didn't say anything. Attuoria stared at him, hoping he would accept the apology and let things go.

He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry, too. About what happened during breakfast. The homeless comment was a cheap one. I'm sorry."

A small smile appeared on Attuoria's face. She had just received a sincere apology from Draco Malfoy. What a rare sight to behold.

"To be honest, I was more offended by what you said about the Weasleys than your comment on me."

"You see that's what I don't understand," said Draco, finally lifting his head up to look her in the eye. "Why do you care about the Weasleys so much? They're so - well -"

"What, poor?" said Attuoria, feeling her eyes start to narrow.

"That's one thing, but no. Like - What is even up with you and the Weasley twin, whichever one it is? You, dating him? You can't feel things like that, you're not even human!" Draco sounded frustrated, like he couldn't find the right words to express what he wanted to say.

Attuoria didn't really know what to say, either. Draco was right. She wasn't human. Yet she was feeling all these things…

"Then there's that whole homeless story. It's not even real. Why do you even care if people talk about it? Parkinson made a comment about it on the first day of school and you still don't seem over it."

"Pansy Parkinson is living in an idealised reality inside of her head ," said Attuoria matter-of-factly. "She seems to think that anything that comes out of her mouth is right. Homelessness isn't a joke. Although it's not real for me, it's completely real for many others. The homeless suffer and are constantly hoping that the next day won't be their last. They're powerless. Bringing down someone who has already hit rock bottom only shows how weak you are."

Draco blinked at her slowly, as if trying to take in what she just said.

"Hmm, yeah, I kind of don't care," he smirked, and Attuoria rolled her eyes. His smirk turned into a small smile. "What are you doing in Knockturn Alley on Christmas day? I thought the Weasleys would've wanted you with them. Well, unless they've found out that you -"

"No," Attuoria interrupted before he could finish. "I forgot that this was the 'season of gift giving', so I'm just doing some late Christmas shopping. But what about you? Why are you here?"

Draco shrugged. "Father's here to sell some things. I just came along."

"Sell some things?" Attuoria frowned. "I thought you guys were rich enough already."

A stern look appeared on Draco's face and he let out a low sound, almost like a growl. "We were alerted about a possible raid that the Ministry was planning to do on our house. Apparently, they were told that we are harboring a dangerous spirit in our house."

"Harboring a dangerous spirit? Who, me?" Spirits were non-beings. Has-beens. They were creatures that weren't exactly 'alive', at least, by mortal realm definition.

"That's why we're trying to get rid of any trace of you in our house. All the stuff he's selling-" Draco nodded over towards the door. "It's all yours."

"But I don't own anything."

"Yeah, nothing except that metal birdcage that can easily hold six trolls and is only accessible by those under the Imperius Curse; then the bracelet, which in case you've forgotten, belongs to my mother, and you bewitched it to slowly turn the wearer into stone; and that goblet, which turns any drink inside of it poisonous-"

"Okay okay, I get it," Attuoria said, holding her arms out in defeat. "But why sell them? They're pretty useful."

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, useful until the Ministry finds out we own an entire room of unrecognised Dark Objects." He paused, glancing at her. His expression softened slightly as he grabbed something out of his coat pocket.

It was a small black, shimmering ball the size of a marble. It was neither solid or air, but some otherworldly material that consisted of a smoke-like mist and pure, empty space.

"Here," said Draco, holding it out towards Attuoria. "It's your dress. When we tried to take it out of the closet, it turned into this. Father wanted to sell it. He said Borgin would pay a fortune for this, but I convinced him to give it to me. So now, you owe me one."

Attuoria gently picked it up from his palm. It felt just like a marble, except there was no glass around it at all.

"And Merry Christmas, I suppose." Draco added hastily, quickly casting his gaze back to the ground.

The marble levitated in mid air between Attuoria's fingers, spinning slowly like a planet in orbit. As she thought of the different thing this object could become, it morphed accordingly, turning into a cube, then a feather, then a small dagger. It never once lost its ethereal quality.

"Thank you," said Attuoria, smiling slightly and giving Draco a polite nod. She clasped her hand around the misty object, and it formed a pure black, shimmering bracelet around her wrist. The aquamarine tone of the ring on her index finger looked dull in comparison, despite being much brighter in color.

Attuoria cast a look towards Draco, who was glancing off to the side. Gently, she grabbed his hand, flipped his palm up, and slipped the ring off her finger. The blue gemstone toppled into his hands, and she folded his fingers around it.

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

Draco looked down at his closed fist, then back up at Attuoria. He didn't say anything as they stared at one another, Attuoria's hands still enclosed around his.

A sudden cough interrupted their silence, and the two jerked their heads towards the door of Borgin and Burke's. Lucius Malfoy stood at its front, his head held high in his usual conceited manner.

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, his eyes flickering to somewhere in the distance behind the two teenagers. It lasted only a split second before he continued.

"Well, we wouldn't want to keep you from the Weasley's this Christmas, do we, Attuoria Knight," Lucius Malfoy drawled, dragging out the pronunciation of her name. He smirked slightly, in a nefarious sort of way, before tossing a box at Attuoria.

Draco flinched, jerking out of the way, and Attuoria managed to stop it from falling to the ground with her wandless abilities. It levitated back up into her arms, and she gave Mr Malfoy a small glare.

"Huh, good catch," he mocked. "Have a good day. Draco, we're leaving."

The Malfoys left without another word, and Attuoria caught Draco glancing back once before disappearing down the alley.

The box was heavy, and something was clunking around inside. Whether it was a Christmas gift or something from Voldemort, she wasn't too sure. Attuoria shrugged it off and went the other way, deciding that she would go back to Diagon Alley to see if any shops sold protective gear such as armour. That was bound to be a good gift for Hagrid.

***

As Draco followed his father down the streets of Knockturn Alley, he couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"Father, I thought you needed to talk to her?" He asked, jogging slightly to catch up with him. Lucius Malfoy was rapidly changing directions, glancing everywhere as they walked.

"Someone was watching us," said Lucius, stopping abruptly at a shop that sold poisons. He straightened his coat and readjusted his grip on his cane. "I shook them off already."

"Why would someone be watching us?" asked Draco, scanning the empty street.

"We've gone over this before."

"Right, sorry." Draco muttered. "Wait, but what was in that box that you gave her? Something from the Dark Lord?"

"No," said Lucius, grimacing slightly. "It was a Christmas gift."

"A Christmas gift?!" Draco flashed his father a look of disbelief. "What on earth could she possibly want?"

"Borgin said she was looking for animal-related products, so I got her a Pogrebin skull."

"What's a Pogrebin?"

Mr Malfoy glared at his son. "You should know this. It's a Russian demon that resembles a rock."

"The one that follows humans and eats them?"

"Yes."

"The one that has depressing effects on humans?"

"Yes."

"You gave her the skull of a demon creature that drains people of hope until they cry and beg for death?"

"If you put it like that, yes."

Draco jumped up from his leaning position against the wall, planting himself squarely in front of his father. "We have to go help her."

Lucius frowned. "Help her with what? It's just a skull, not the creature itself. And even if it were, she'd still be fine. She doesn't have emotions. The Pogrebin skull will have no effect on her."

Draco shook his head adamantly. "You know Borgin likes to sell items with dark magic. Why else would he have a pogrebin skull?"

"Don't tell me now that you actually care about her?" said Lucius, his eyes narrowing. His son pressed his lips together.

"I'm only saying this because if anything does happen, you're responsible." Draco said quietly, not quite meeting his father's eyes.

Mr Malfoy sighed. "Fine. We will intercept her on her way out of Diagon Alley."

***

Attuoria came out of a junk shop on Diagon Alley, satisfied with the second-hand dragonhide leg armour she bought. She was going to give it to Hagrid, for him to use as a forearm guard in case his giant half brother ever lost his temper again.

It cost 5 Galleons, but she wasn't going to let that bother her. Hagrid deserved a good gift.

Attuoria walked through the archway that led to the Leaky Cauldron. Her shopping was done for today, and she couldn't wait to get back to Grimmauld place to give everyone their gifts. Though everyone was probably still at St Mungo's, this would give her more time to prepare.

Just as she was about to pull the door open to enter the pub, she heard a loud thump from not far behind her. That wasn't right. As far as Attuoria knew, she was the only customer at Diagon Alley right now. She hadn't seen anyone else.

Her hands clasped around the door handle, but was interrupted by a loud wailing sound. It was a rough masculine howl. Definitely a person.

Just go, Attuoria thought to herself, pulling the door open slightly. You have places to be. Just go.

But before she could make her final decision, a sharp tug at her coat hood pulled her head back, and instinctively, she shrugged the coat off her shoulders, saving herself from a hard fall. Her bookbag fell to the ground with a thud, but thankfully the implementation of the undetectable extension charm meant that the contents inside were fine.

Attuoria swiftly swept the bag back onto her shoulder and spun around. Crouching on the icy ground in front of her, with her expensive coat in hand, was a man in a witch costume.

"Who are-"

"PLEASE," the man begged, his voice hoarse as he clawed at the snow near Attuoria's feet. "Please kill me- please, do it, end my life-"

Attuoria glanced down at him. The witch costume was good. He had a long black veil hanging from his headpiece, probably to conceal his face. The clothes were believable- simple black robes with a hint of lace, complete with a pair of leather, golden-buckle boots.

But what was a man doing in Diagon Alley on Christmas day, wearing a witch costume?

As the man continued to beg, Attuoria's thoughts from today slowly came back to her...

Sirius had casted her a hard look of suspicion as she left the house. He thought she was going out to meet Death Eaters. Attuoria was sure that he'd sent someone to follow her, but she wasn't the least bit worried. An innocent person had no need to fear.

"Why do you want me to kill you?" Attuoria asked, interrupting the man's desperate demands.

"I deserve it!" he cried. "I have failed them, I have failed the Order! I was supposed to collect intel from your conversation with Lucius Malfoy, but he spotted me! And what do I have now? Nothing! Oh- I've gone and done it again, I've told you about the Order's orders. I can't face them now. Just kill me! Kill me, so they think I died nobly. Tell- tell them that the Death Eaters caught me and killed me, or something… something like that…" The man trailed off, falling into low sobs as he clutched the coat to his face.

Attuoria stared at him blankly, unsure of what to do. This was quite an odd situation. It was nothing like anything she'd encountered before. What was this called? Hysteria?

"Um… no one's gonna kill you, relax." Attuoria slowly edged closer to the man, holding her arms out carefully. "But you do have my coat, can I have that back please?" The man noticed her presence and flinched, quickly scrambling away and dropping her coat at her feet.

"T-Take it. I don't c-care how you d-do it, just k-kill me quick. Get it over with, p-please-"

Seeing as the man wasn't going to let go of his desperate wish, Attuoria flipped open her bag to see if there was anything that could help. Her arms were shoulder-deep into her bag when the back of her hand hit a solid surface.

The box from Lucius Malfoy.

Squeezing both arms into her bag, Attuoria heaved out the cardboard box. It clunked as she plopped it onto the ground, not far in front of the crouching man.

Perhaps this was a bad time to see what gift Lucius Malfoy gave her, but somehow at this very moment, she was drawn to it.

A large ivory-white rock sat inside the box. Attuoria reached forward to touch it, but she already knew what it was. The Borgin and Burkes man had suggested it to her, but she declined it. She should've known that he would tell Lucius Malfoy what she was looking at in the shop.

But the real question was, why was Lucius trying to sabotage her with a pogrebin skull? Clearly, this pogrebin skull was laced with dark magic: The pogrebin's innate magic. As an experienced wizard, he most definitely knew the detrimental effects of it.

The man whimpered- a manly yet vulnerable noise.

The answer hit Attuoria like a truck.

The pogrebin skull was to sabotage him. Not her. She didn't have emotions, the Death Eaters all knew that. But this man here, a poor, defenseless spy for the Order, was much too easy of a target.

Attuoria yanked the skull out of the box, shaking it to check if there was anything inside. Sure enough, something sloshed around right below the cranium. She pulled her wand out from her coat, then pointed the tip of it at the bottom of the skull.

Slowly, a bubble-like object floated out of the mouth of the skull. Enclosed inside it was a pinkish-grey organ, twisted with lines of purple and red veins that still pulsed slightly every few seconds.

It was the pogrebin's brain.

This thing was the culprit of a man's manic episode. Somehow, the organ was still alive despite the absence of a heart. There was no denying that this was the work of dark magic.

If Attuoria knew one thing about dark magic from her time with Voldemort, it's that dark magic can only be dealt with by using even more dark magic.

A series of solutions ran through her mind: the killing curse, the vanishing spell, the fire-making spell, or the severing charm. But something told her that none of these were going to work. The killing curse was worth a try, but the others were probably a no-go.

Just as Attuoria was about to nonverbally cast the unforgivable curse onto the hovering brain bubble, the man in front of her let out an ear-splitting cry.

"NO-" He gasped, his body twisting unnaturally as he began levitating into the air. "Don't t-torture me, n-no!"

The Cruciatus Curse. The effects of it were extremely identifiable. It wasn't difficult to guess who the caster was, either.

In the heat of the moment, Attuoria made a decision. She wasn't sure what prompted that decision- perhaps it was instinct.

The pogrebin brain dropped into the snow as Attuoria lunged towards the man. 12 Grimmauld Place, Attuoria thought clearly in her mind before she was sucked into a spinning vortex- with the man clutched tightly in her arms.