“An Elemental and an Aetherion, how remarkable,” Dumbledore said, joyfully clapping his hands together as he gazed at the two uncomfortable teens.

Severus watched in amusement as the two boys, sat on either end of the sofa, glanced at each other, temporarily bonding for a split second over their shared distress and confusion. While he agreed with the headmaster that it was an incredible discovery, Potter and Malfoy were clearly overwhelmed, as they should be. Nothing had been explained to the two yet as Dumbledore had wasted no time in coming over when Severus gave him the news.

“You will both begin training at once, especially you, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“And Mr. Malfoy? A week and a half is hardly enough time to get any kind of meaningful training done,” Severus said, noting the stressed expression that had appeared on Potter’s face at the headmaster’s pressure.

“His training will have to take place at home,” Dumbledore said and Severus frowned.

“You intend to return him to Lucius?” Severus said, struggling to comprehend the headmaster’s decisions and priorities. He understood wanting to focus on growing Potter’s magic, but why not Malfoy’s as well?

“We cannot keep him from his family, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “It would be akin to kidnapping.”

“I understand that, Headmaster, but you would send a boy with this kind of power to the Dark Lord?” Severus said, seeing Malfoy pale rapidly out the corner of his eye. “I do not believe that to be wise.”

“We cannot go up against Lucius Malfoy, not over his son,” Dumbledore said firmly. “There is nothing I can do.”

Severus said nothing as he stared hard at the old man. It was strange for the headmaster to discover a magic not seen for over a thousand years and not want to use it to his full advantage. Was it because it was Malfoy? Was he not worthy to be one of Dumbledore’s soldiers? Was Malfoy meant to be abandoned to his fate while Potter was driven head-long into his?

“Now, Harry, Professor Snape will begin your training and then we will continue together at school,” Dumbledore said and Potter gave a stiff nod. Severus noticed Malfoy’s head had dropped slightly, likely at the headmaster’s dismissal of his wellbeing. “Work hard and, Severus, keep me updated.”

Severus just inclined his head and watched Dumbledore disappear through his Floo. His own thoughts circulating, his eyes flicked back to the two boys still sat on the sofa. Potter looked overwhelmed and stressed while Malfoy had grown confused and despondent. It would not be productive for any of them to continue discussing the matter now.

“Outside, you two,” he said, drawing both sets of eyes to him in question. “Get some air and try to relax some before dinner.”

They both hesitated before giving small nods and slowly left the library. Severus watched them go, his vision growing distant as he wondered what exactly was going on and what he was supposed to do now.

Draco gritted his teeth to hold back his scream as the burning on his forearms continued. He clenched his hands into fists against the pain and, while he managed not to scream, he couldn’t stop the single tear that escaped the corner of his eye. He bit his lip to prevent any sounds when he was backhanded across the face. As bad as it all was, it would only be worse if he made a sound or cried. 

“Still so weak,” Lucius drawled. 

“I’m sorry, Father,” Draco said monotonously, staring straight ahead and ignoring the ache in his knees from being on them on the hard floor for so long. 

“You will not embarrass me,” Lucius said. 

“Yes, Father,” Draco said. 

He trembled and bit his lip again as Lucius dragged his wand down Draco’s sternum, leaving behind a cut. It was agony, the laceration repeating over the others that had been inflicted in the same spot. It was always right there. The repeated opening of barely healed skin and scar tissue was an indescribable pain. After all these years, he had yet to get used to any of his ‘training’. His eyes shuttered, but snapped open only a moment later when he was backhanded again. 

“Eyes open, boy,” Lucius spat. “You will meet the eyes of your lord.” 

“Yes, sir,” Draco whispered. 

Lucius stepped up to him, blocking his line of sight, but Draco kept his eyes straight, focusing on the snake head of the cane. How he hated that thing. 

“Who do you serve?” Lucius asked quietly. 

“The Dark Lord,” Draco recited. 

“Who do you serve?” Lucius repeated, waving his wand. 

Draco stiffened at the thin razor-like slices that wound around his arms and neck. No cuts were left behind, but the pain grew with every pass. His fingernails dug into his palms, adding to his pain, but he couldn’t stop. 

“Draco,” Lucius said, his tone warning. 

“The…Dark Lord,” Draco ground out. 

“Will you do as your lord commands?” Lucius asked. 

“Yes, Father.” 

“Will you protect the sanctity and the purity of the wizarding world with your life for your lord?” 

These were all the same questions he was asked every day. He knew what to say. Just say ‘yes’ and the pain ends. However, he still couldn’t do it, not with the final question. 

“No,” he whispered and closed his eyes at the instant cry of rage that Lucius released. 

He’d already messed up, as he always did, so he didn’t hold back his screams or tears as the Cruciatus set him on fire. He fell off his knees and twisted on the floor as the agony continued. 

When would it end? When would he be able to escape? Was he destined to be bound to Voldemort, destined to this pain forever? 

When would it end?

Draco’s eyes snapped open and he quickly sat up in bed, breathing hard into the darkness. He was trembling and pain was shooting through his shoulder, telling him he’d been writhing in his sleep and had aggravated the injury. He crossed his legs under the blanket and gently grasped his broken shoulder with his other hand as he tried to calm himself.

He jumped when his bedroom door opened and his eyes widened when he realized it was Snape. He tensed at the man’s presence. He must’ve been vocal and woken Snape. Considering how dark it was, it had to be the middle of the night. Would Snape be angry at being woken up at such a time for such a silly reason?

He blinked at the sudden light when Snape turned on his little lamp. He watched the professor pull over the desk chair to sit beside the bed.

“Let me see,” Snape said quietly, gesturing at Draco’s shoulder.

Draco glanced at his shoulder dumbly before dropping his other hand. He stared straight ahead as Snape prodded his shoulder, gently but still painfully, making him wince.

“Do you need a Pain Reliever?” Snape asked, helping to replace the sling.

“No, sir,” Draco said. It wasn’t that bad, not like the remembered pain of ‘training’. He shuddered involuntarily.

“You are sure?” Snape pressed, obviously seeing the reaction.

“I’m sure,” Draco said. “It was just…a bad dream.”

Snape hummed, sitting back in the chair and giving Draco a knowing look. Uncomfortable at the piercing stare, Draco dropped his eyes to the bed, picking at a tiny loose thread. He really wanted the professor to leave. He didn’t want to talk about the nightmare, his ‘training’, how close he had come to giving in just to end it all. No one would understand.

“It was just training.”

Why was he talking? Why was he telling Snape anything?

“For what?” Snape asked.

“To make me strong…ready…able to handle…Him,” Draco said, yanking at the thread.

“I see,” Snape said shortly, but casually.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he lied even as the nightmare’s training session flashed before his eyes again. “I’m a Malfoy.”

“You are,” Snape said. “Does that mean this was necessary and acceptable?”

Draco knew the man was gesturing to his injuries. “It’s supposed to be. He just wants me to be like him.”

“Is that what you want?” Snape asked and Draco’s eyes flew to the professor again.

What he wanted? No one had ever considered him in that way before. What he wanted didn’t matter. He was a Malfoy and his life had been written for him.

“We all have choices,” Snape said when it became clear Draco wasn’t answering. “Some are much more difficult than others, but they are still there.”

Draco frowned uncomprehendingly. He just couldn’t understand. His frustration with his father and himself bubbled up and came out in anger. His frown turned into a glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” he said stiffly. “I’m sorry I woke you, but I’m fine.”

“I was already awake and I do not believe you are ‘fine,” Snape said.

Draco bristled, unable to be confronted with his own doubts and trauma. “With all due respect, sir, you don’t know anything.”

“Perhaps,” Snape said and his calmness seemed to just make Draco angrier.

“Just get out,” Draco snapped, not caring if he was being rude.

When Snape’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrow rose, an apology almost spilled from Draco’s lips, just like it would have with Lucius. However, with great effort, he managed to keep quiet.

“Very well,” Snape said eventually, rising to his feet and returning the desk chair. “Get some sleep, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco kept up his glare as he watched the professor leave his room. Once alone, he slumped back against his pillows and gazed down at his blanket-clad legs. His anger ebbed away, replaced with a mix of strange emotions. The nightmare had turned into circulating memories of his life of ‘training’ and they were flashing in his head, tormenting him with the reminders of all he’d been through.

Lucius had been proficient at using curses that caused all the necessary pain, but left no markings behind. The only mark he had was the deep scar down his sternum.

He brought his hand up to rest on the scar beneath his shirt, almost absently. He knew abuse was wrong, but that’s not what it was. It was training, the training of Malfoys to ready them for a life as a Death Eater. Sure, he didn’t want to be a Death Eater, but that didn’t make it abuse…did it? No, it wasn’t. It was required to make him a proper Malfoy. He had a reputation to create and uphold. The training was just to teach him how to act like a Malfoy.

It wasn’t fun and it hurt, but it wasn’t abuse.

It was training.

It was training.

It was training.

He forced the words to repeat like a mantra as he laid down and slowly fell into a still fitful sleep for the rest of the night.

The next day found all three of them in a room on the third floor of the manor. It was large and empty with a marble-like floor.

“Given our limited time with Mr. Malfoy, we will do training together,” Snape said and Harry couldn’t help his slight annoyance at having to do anything with Malfoy. “Before we begin, however, you are both owed an explanation about our discoveries.”

Harry was surprised that anything was going to be explained. It wasn’t the…’style’ when it came to him. It was always decided he shouldn’t know even when he was being directly affected. How he could be thrown into the middle of the world’s conflict, but have everyone refuse to tell him anything or help him was confounding and infuriating. He just wanted to know why this was all happening to him.

“Mr. Potter, you are an Elemental. This magic has not been seen naturally in a witch or wizard for six hundred years,” Snape said and Harry found his chest tightening with the anxiety of being a freak in yet another way. “You have the ability to manipulate and control the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. You can use them individually as well as in conjunction with each other.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably as he tried to understand how he could have such a power and why.

“Mr. Malfoy, you are what is called an Aetherion,” Snape said, turning to Malfoy.

Harry had noticed the blonde’s drawn, tired face at breakfast and briefly wondered what was wrong, until he reminded himself he didn’t care. Now, as the professor began his explanation for Malfoy’s magic, he spotted the boy tensing and his face becoming more stressed.

“You possess Aether Magic,” Snape continued. “It is also known as Celestial Magic and a natural Aetherion has not been seen for well over one thousand years.”

Harry watched Malfoy’s expression twist with confusion.

“Wait, Celestial Magic?” Malfoy repeated. “That’s impossible. I can’t have…I’m a…” he trailed off, his eyes darting between Snape and Harry who frowned.

“You are what, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape said casually, raising an eyebrow.

When Malfoy looked at Harry again, the Slytherin appeared to flush before hardening his eyes into a glare and turning away.

“Nothing,” Malfoy muttered.

“I assure you, there is no mistake,” Snape said. “You have the ability to tap into magical energy. You can drain, enhance, and manipulate another’s magic. You can also tap into the natural magic of the earth and use it as your own.”

Harry blinked at the two in surprise. That type of magic sounded even more extraordinary than his.

“It is interesting that you each possess these particular forms of magic as, historically, they have had a strong connection, able to support and strengthen each other,” Snape said.

Harry and Malfoy glanced at each other at the news. Them, work together? As though having the same disgusted thought, they sneered at each other and turned away.

“When your full powers are realized, you will both have a magical strength rivalled by none,” Snape said.

Harry felt a pit in his stomach, astonished anxiety at the implied pressure. He would be more powerful than Snape? Than Voldemort? Than Dumbledore? How was that possible? He peeked at Malfoy out the corner of his eye. Malfoy would also be as powerful?

“You have both exhibited uncontrolled bursts of your magic,” Snape said. “Because it has been suppressed for all your lives, it has built and will be…wild, so to speak, for a time. This magic does not utilize a wand, but wandless magic instead. This is where we will begin, building your wandless magic skills."

“But, sir, we’re barely fifteen,” Malfoy said and Harry couldn’t help but silently agree.

“I am aware of your age,” Snape said sardonically. “However, you have both already performed wandless magic.”

“Not on purpose,” Harry pointed out, thinking of the burnt patch of grass and glancing at Malfoy’s still bandaged arm. He hadn’t meant to do either of those things, hadn’t even known what he’d done or how. And he remembered Malfoy’s face when they fought the other day; he hadn’t meant to do it either.

“No, but the capability is there,” Snape said. “Let’s explore what caused the outbursts. It will likely be a part of how we unlock your full powers.”

Harry tensed as he remembered each instance and felt Malfoy do the same next to him. None of them had been good moments.

“Mr. Potter?” Snape said, looking at him.

He really didn’t want to talk about either situation, but he also knew Snape would drag it out of him if he didn’t respond on his own. He huffed, annoyed at having to reveal anything to Malfoy and Snape.

“I was mad each time,” he admitted. “Or upset.” He kept his eyes on a random spot just behind Snape to avoid looking at the man or Malfoy.

“Same,” Malfoy said quietly.

“Wandless magic is heavily tied to emotion,” Snape said. “To learn wandless magic and control it, you must have control over your emotions.”

“Meaning?” Malfoy said, not sounding overly thrilled at the direction of the conversation.

“Meaning, everything the two of you refuse to accept, admit, or let go of will continue to prevent you from succeeding,” Snape said bluntly, giving each of them a piercing stare full of knowing.

Harry knew the professor was referring to their families and their shame and guilt. What was Snape implying though? Was he expecting them to just spill their secrets and feelings? The man was utterly delusional if that’s what he thought. It would be impossible to confide in a man that hated them and was only doing all of this because he had to. How do you talk through feelings and deal with trauma with people you hated and hated you?

“There’s nothing to deal with,” Malfoy said stiffly.

“Given the nightmares you are both having nearly every night, I would have to disagree, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said, rolling his eyes.

Harry and Malfoy glared at the professor.

“It’s not like you care, so why even bother?” Harry said angrily.

“Because the headmaster has asked me to and you both need to be rid of the ridiculous notion that you deserved what happened to you,” Snape said firmly.

Harry blinked, stunned at having such a comment shoved at him with such force. He’d expected Snape to stop after saying they were an inconvenient job assignment to him and, glancing at Malfoy, the blonde had expected the same. Having the idea that they were not to blame for how they were treated thrown at them so bluntly by the one person they figured would have praised the reality of their home lives was a shock they couldn’t comprehend.

“I do not expect you to confide in me, but I expect you to find someone you can trust with this matter,” Snape said.

Harry snorted silently to himself. He was honestly more likely to talk to Snape or Malfoy about the Dursleys than his friends or Sirius. Snape and Malfoy likely wouldn’t treat him any different. In fact, they both had at least an idea of what the Dursleys did and they hadn’t changed. If his friends or Sirius knew, they would pity him and treat him like glass.

“This is the room we will use to train,” Snape said. “It is designed specifically for magical practice so there is no danger of destroying the manor.”

Harry couldn’t help his small glare at the insinuation they would destroy the place. He didn’t understand how the training was supposed to work at all, given Snape’s inability to teach and encourage his students properly.

“The first step will be for you to learn how to access your magic with awareness and without a wand,” Snape told them. “Your magic naturally gravitates towards a conduit like a wand. Without such an item, you must be able to direct your magic directly into your hands and outwards from there in a desired direction.”

Snape held out his hand and Harry watched, fascinated, as familiar gold tendrils immediately appeared, wrapping around the man’s fingers, palm, and even a little bit of his wrist. After holding his magic for a moment, he waved his hand in a specific motion and the threads left his hand, floating towards Harry and Malfoy. They watched the threads bypass them and swirl around in the air behind them before disappearing upon the appearance of a sofa.

“Sit, especially you, Potter,” Snape ordered and Harry scowled while secretly thanking the man as he was quickly growing exhausted. He and Malfoy sat at either end, keeping as much space as possible between them. They watched Snape do the same thing, only quicker, and created a wingback chair for himself.

“As you become proficient with your magic, you will learn to gather your magic in such a way and use it as needed instantaneously. You will also learn to differentiate and access your unique magic,” Snape explained.

Harry was surprised at how much Snape was explaining. This was completely different from when they were in class at Hogwarts. It was almost…pleasant. If it was anyone other than Snape and Malfoy, that’s exactly how he’d describe it.

“I want you both to relax and close your eyes,” Snape said.

Harry raised an eyebrow and knew Malfoy was also looking at the man in disbelief. Snape rolled his eyes again.

“Have I hurt either of you since you’ve been here?” Snape asked, sounding irritated.

Harry and Malfoy glanced at each other and gave small headshakes.

“And I will not,” Snape said. “Now, do as I say.”

Harry was still hesitant and knew Malfoy was as well, but, eventually, they obeyed, closing their eyes and leaning back on the sofa.

“Take a deep breath and feel the energy that flows through you,” Snape said in a low, calm voice. “Identify which energy is your magic and take some time to feel it within you.”

Harry did as instructed, taking a couple of deep breaths and sinking into the sofa. He put all his focus on himself, feeling the air fill his lungs, his heart beat, the blood flowing through his veins, and something else. A warm tingle that ebbed and flowed, giving off little bursts when focused on. He dove into the warmth, letting it fill him.

He’d never experienced his magic like this before. It was a living force inside of him, providing him with life just like oxygen. It hovered everywhere, waiting to be used. As he settled into it and let it wrap around him, he began to notice another power, this one still warm, but more of a static than a tingle. This power was stronger, more desperate to be used, and he knew it had to be his Elemental Magic.

As he recognized it and focused on it, the Elemental Magic seemed to wake up. It still wasn’t as prevalent as his regular magic, but it wanted to be. What little there was pulsed and whipped around, hoping for somewhere to go. He kept it with him, getting used to the feeling of these two powers within him.

The Elemental Magic settled eventually, becoming content with just his acknowledgement. He had no idea the comfort of his magic was lulling him into a sleep. As he fell asleep, he slipped easily into the mind of another, unaware that that’s what was happening.

He stared hard at the blonde head bowed before him, the owner on his knees. He sneered at Lucius, dissatisfied with the news he was receiving. 

“Where is your son, Lucius?” he hissed, his tone dangerous if he received a response he didn’t like. 

“I do not know, my lord. He’s run away,” Lucius said, his voice shaky and his head remaining bowed. 

“And the trace you have on him?” he drawled, feeling his anger build. 

“Something is blocking it, my lord. I cannot use it to locate him,” Lucius said. 

Letting out a cry of anger, he sliced his wand through the air. He briefly noticed the thin, white fingers wrapped around his wand before watching Lucius writhe and twitch on the floor. He could tell the man was clenching his teeth hard to stop from screaming. Rage filled him, but so did glee at the torment he had Lucius under. He ended the curse after a minute or so, leaving Lucius gasping for steady breaths. 

“You will not lose your prodigy, Lucius. Draco will be the best and I will not accept your failure,” he said, staring into Lucius’ pained eyes. 

“Yes, my lord. I will find him for you,” Lucius said, returning to his original bowed position. 

“Yes, you will,” he said lightly before torturing Lucius once again, excited by his pain.

“Potter!”

Harry’s eyes flew open though not for long as the agony in his scar forced them closed again and he flung a hand over it, as though hoping the touch would end the pain. He leaned his head against the back of the sofa, riding out the waves of pain.

What the hell had just happened? Was it a dream, like last year? It was different, though, than what he’d had last year about the Muggle man and the graveyard, but not too different. Instead of observing, he seemed to be participating, and the pain in his scar was exponentially worse. What was it?

“Potter, take this!”

He could hear Snape and felt the man very near to him, but he couldn’t respond or interact. His head hurt too much. He wanted to flinch and pull away when a hand was roughly pulling his from his face and forcing his mouth open. He briefly panicked at the potion, wondering for a moment if it was poison, before he recognized the taste.

Pain Reliever.

Snape let him throw a hand over his scar again as they waited for the Pain Reliever to take effect. He’d had many Pain Relievers over the years and they had always been nearly instantaneous, but not this time. It didn’t seem to be working at all.

“Another one,” Snape said quietly and, this time, Harry readily accepted the potion.

Finally, still after several minutes, the second potion began to take some effect. It still didn’t eliminate the pain as it should, but it was no longer blinding. He was able to drop his hand and just leaned back, exhausted and shaky. He nearly forgot he was in a room with Snape and Malfoy, surprised they were letting the silence persist rather than bombard him with questions. He was oddly grateful. Anyone else would be drilling him and all he wanted was this moment to calm down and think.

“Potter?” Snape said eventually and he cracked his eyes.

Snape was, shockingly, knelt on the floor in front of him and gazing at him with a look he’d never seen on the man’s face before. He spotted Malfoy off to the side, a small distance behind Snape. The blonde was also giving him an odd look, unknown on this particular face.

“Are you able to speak?” Snape asked.

Harry gave a small nod.

“Have the potions helped?” Snape asked in a tone that was far more than just tolerant.

“A little,” Harry said, making him realize his throat was hoarse and scratchy. Had he been screaming?

Snape frowned slightly, seeming to be confused at the potions not fully working.

“What happened?” Snape asked.

Harry scrunched up his face, remembering the horrible dream. “A nightmare, I think. It was…different.”

“How?” Snape asked.

“I…I think it was actually happening,” Harry said, seeing Snape’s confusion grow. “I…I was…him, Voldemort. I was torturing Lucius Malfoy.”

He was sure he saw a flash of concern in Snape’s eyes before he looked at Malfoy. The blonde had paled at the mention of his father and seemed to be afraid.

“They’re looking for you,” Harry said to Malfoy, making the grey eyes grow wide. “Voldemort wants you.”

Harry groaned as a random wave of pain emanated from his scar.

“Potter?” Snape said, his voice still quiet.

“There’s a tracker on you,” Harry said, still looking at Malfoy. “It’s blocked though. They can’t use it.”

“It will be undetectable and untraceable while you are here at the manor,” Snape said.

Harry could tell the man was trying to understand what Harry had told him. Harry moved his eyes from the clearly terrified Malfoy back to the man in front of him. Snape was exploring his eyes for answers and, while he was scared and confused, Harry discovered a calmness in the dark eyes, almost a comfort that helped ease his emotions.