"You're not a mutant."
"……What?"
After the unclear but meaningful declaration, there was silence in the study for a long time. Draco was sweating and didn't dare to say another word, while Charles stirred the teaspoon and looked at an unknown place, without further explanation.
It wasn't until he said these words again that Draco's consciousness was brought back.
"You are not a mutant." Charles said. "You have no sense of belonging to this species, and your abilities will not be released like a part of your body. And you have never admitted this. Sean and Hank only think of you because of inertia. It doesn't matter if you're a mutant, or you think you're not, but you're not."
When the above words were said in a very calm way, Draco felt numb and felt that the other party had already concluded the matter, so even if the person sitting opposite was Harry's father, he just He twitched the corner of his mouth: "I still--well, if you want to say that, then what else should I say, sir."
After saying that, he put his fingers on the smooth porcelain teapot, pressed his fingertips against it, and tried hard to heat it up again - but he tried for about thirty seconds, and the teapot was still at the same temperature. I had no choice but to secretly shake the wand in my sleeve under the table, wave it under the table, and recite the heating spell silently.
Fortunately, the silent spell still worked, and the tea in the teapot immediately emitted the aroma caused by heating again, and water vapor rose up from the spout.
Of course, this was not about him 'boldly signaling his provocation to Charles', he didn't dare.
- It's unbelievable that I should one day be afraid that I am a wizard and not something else. he thinks.
Charles didn't even glance at the teapot.
"I'm well aware that there is more than one distinction between intelligent species in this world." He leaned back, leaning on the back of his wheelchair, and crossed his hands on the table, a gesture that Draco would often see him do in later generations. , which meant that the other party was willing to talk for a long time, which made his scalp tingle. "This is not surprising. There are other creatures outside the universe, and there are more than just 'mutants' on the earth... What they said Alien." He said mockingly.
"He won't like what you said." Draco almost immediately retorted to Charles, then covered his mouth in embarrassment, "...Mutants are not 'alien'. My cousin won't like you describing it that way."
It was a novel experience - he told others that a race that was neither wizard nor Muggle was not 'alien'. Just two years ago, this kind of behavior did not exist in his outlook. He even felt from the bottom of his heart that the red-haired family were outliers or scum among purebloods, but now he blurted out 'not outliers'.
But seriously, is it really necessary to say this to the person in front of you? Charles Xavier is the most tolerant person he has ever met! But look at this man, he actually calls mutants, himself and everything he loves, aliens!
——After all, look at what good things the great 'Magneto' has done! Look what good things Muggles have done!
Draco thought a little angrily. He even began to wonder why there was a wedding in the end. Can a person who is so decadent really be able to cheer up?
It was like a wooden board being penetrated by nails as densely as rain. After doing this, the nails were gone and the board was riddled with holes.
"Are you talking angrily?" He said patiently and angrily, "This joke is not funny at all."
The man opposite gave him a cold look, said nothing or responded. In order to lighten the atmosphere, Draco could only stand up and plan to get himself a cup of tea.
Merlin, if you treat Harry with this attitude, his heart will definitely be broken. Draco drank a cup of tea stiffly and rolled his eyes in his mind, even though he knew that Charles definitely didn't have this attitude towards Harry. Who would treat a young boy as gentle as Harry Xavier with harsh words and cold treatment? Especially when he is very considerate to you and always smiles at you?
At least to Draco's knowledge, generally speaking, there is no such person, unless they have a conflict of interest or the other party is a complete villain, or the other party has ulterior motives.
And after the awkward silence that even the hailstorm could not break through lasted for about half a cup of tea, Charles knocked on the table and asked him a question out of the blue.
"What is he like?"
"What?" For a moment, Draco thought it was his auditory hallucination, because he couldn't quite understand the intention of this sentence, "What are you talking about?"
Charles lowered his eyes and fiddled with the sugar cube jar on the table with his slender but strong fingers, as casually as he was playing with chess pieces.
"Tell me," he said, "what that kid is like."
"I think," Draco immediately adjusted his speaking speed to be extremely slow, so that he could not let out any words that he shouldn't say, "I... don't understand what you mean. You see... that almost every day." child'."
They all knew exactly who 'that kid' was.
"You know very well what I mean," Charles said calmly, "I am seriously asking you about this matter. I am not interested in playing with you step by step or testing. You know that my inquiry will only build your safety. Yes, I have no interest in spying on privacy." His voice was slightly higher, and he tapped the table with his knuckles. "There is no need to be vigilant. I believe many elders will care about their descendants. You are not a mutant, but He is, he is my responsibility.”
For a moment, even Draco, who was used to putting on airs, couldn't control his expression well at this moment. He took a few deep breaths and chewed the words in his head quickly. Only after he calmed down a little did he dare to continue talking to this man.
"You," he hesitantly spat out the honorific and said as if squeezing out toothpaste, "what do you want to know?"
"Daily life." Charles spit out one word.
Draco couldn't help but wonder if he had heard the request wrong.
"If you want to know about his life," he said, "you don't need to ask me at all. If you are willing to come down and have dinner with me, you will know."
Charles didn't nod or shake his head, but simply pointed out: "Do you call life in this house daily?"
Draco choked.
"Why," he said reluctantly, "can't you say that?"
Charles let out the only chuckle he had heard since the boy stepped in.
"Even you know this can't be called normal life," he said lightly. "It seems like you didn't grow up completely locked in a house." The man crossed one leg, relaxed his shoulders and back, and leaned on the backrest. On the chair, "Do you think there are one or two more people in this house, all the daily necessities are complete, and there are normal exchanges and three meals every day, is this called daily life? No, it is not."
He pointed to the room and to the door.
"This is just a temporary prison."
"But not to my cousin," Draco retorted with a frown, even though he was terrified to talk to this man. "He thinks it's a good place, even the best place, like home. "
A smile appeared on the man's face that quickly disappeared.
"I know." He said concisely, "But this is not that kind of 'home' yet. There shouldn't be no freedom at home."
"Sorry, what do you mean without freedom?" Draco asked confused.
"Have you noticed that he's unhappy?" Charles said. "This place doesn't make him happy."
Draco paused.
“Compared to leaving our loved ones and coming to a foreign country, our current situation may not be better,” he said with a frown, “but, sir, I hope you can realize that being able to live by your side makes him very happy. He would rather be here than anywhere.”
Charles put the tea cup back on the wooden table, his blue eyes darkening because he lowered his eyes without much emotion. He intertwined the fingers of his hands, forming a small gap where multiple lines intersected, and used this gap to shake at Draco.
"This place can give him peace of mind." The man who has been decadent for a long time made a very clear judgment, "but this cannot be called happiness. He can arrange every day to make this place feel like home, but..." His His voice gradually rose, as if he was reciting poetry softly, "...This is not the place where he should live. There are people and houses that make him feel at ease, and he will not be hungry or cold, but this is a bird A cage, a birdcage cannot give him freedom.”
Charles categorically sentenced this place to death.
"A life without freedom can never give people happiness," he said. "This place is just the best of many bad choices. Every other place is too bad. This place can't even be called safe - you know, In the beginning, there would be regular inspections on the outside of the courtyard from time to time. Whenever someone stepped out of the courtyard, someone would report the situation here to any place - and this was obviously not out of good intentions, but gradually, they also felt that this place It’s not a good idea, I think they should give up paying attention to this place now.”
Okay, booking arrangement, four directions outside, four Muggle banishing spells. Draco loosened his collar, almost suffocatingly thinking.
"And I can see that he is a boy who grew up in freedom." Charles pinched the handle of the teacup but did not drink it. Maybe he felt that drinking hot tea in this weather was a bit too much, so he also tugged on his open shirt. He opened the collar more, "Tell me, how did you spend every day in the past, and what were you passionate about?"
He gave a few examples casually, "Reading? Sweets? What else? Do you play rugby?"
It doesn't sound like you haven't paid attention to him. Draco cursed inwardly. How else would you know that your son has a sweet tooth.
"...Okay." Considering that the person sitting in front of him was Harry's 'Dad', Draco measured the time for about three minutes and then felt that he might have to be more honest than when facing James Potter, otherwise he might be in trouble later.
He slowed down his speech to avoid making mistakes: "He...he doesn't play rugby, but he likes reading, just like..." The words 'like any bookworm' reached the tip of his tongue, but turned around and was swallowed by him. After going down, he swallowed and cleverly changed his words, "Just like you - any wise person like you, he likes to read, study, study biology and physics, etc. Chemistry is also good, and... Have you won any competition awards?”
Charles tapped his fingers on the side of the teacup and said nothing, but Draco swore he saw the corners of the man's mouth quirk up.
Hey, adults! He thought inwardly.
"He doesn't like to play rugby," Draco had already started speaking anyway, and Draco spoke more and more smoothly, "There is another sport in our hometown that is 10,000 times more exciting than rugby. He is very talented, but he rarely plays it... No matter what I say, he still prefers to participate in academic competitions rather than sports competitions, and he is proud of those awards."
Charles nodded: "Sounds a lot like the old me - the old me - but I guess you guys don't have the habit of sneaking to bars - um - does he have a girl he likes?"
Are you Americans so keen on asking this kind of question?
Upon hearing these two things, Draco shuddered and remembered Harry's class reunion last time... Then he reflexively shook his head like the Whomping Willow: "No, never, we are not adults yet, sir. Merlin—I mean, God, your guess is too far—" As soon as he saw Charles' half-smiling expression, he realized that he had lost his composure, and quickly pinched himself hard under the table. .
Restraint, Draco, restraint! He tried his best to stay calm, and took a sip of the warm black tea from his cup to hide his possible panic.
"Yes," Charles said meaningfully, "I know that he won't have a girl he likes." He held the teaspoon again, stirred it, and then asked coldly, "My innocent child Do you know that his cousin has a special feeling for him... between non-relatives?"
Draco was so frightened by these words that his heart almost stopped. If he hadn't caught it in time, the cup in his hand would have smashed to the ground.
"——Just a little bit of concentration?" Charles said with pity in his eyes, "I don't think you will ask me again how I know."
"...I don't know what you are talking about." Draco forced himself to look at an unknown place behind Charles and calm down, "Maybe you are talking about friendship."
"No," Charles raised his eyebrows as if he was suddenly interested, as if this reaction pleased him, "I'm talking about something other than friendship and family ties. I've seen the way you stared at him cooking, do you want... …”
He drawled, and he said the last two words very softly, as if he were watching a needle prick a balloon.
"...Kiss him."
"!!!"
Draco stood up suddenly, and the tips of his ears and cheeks revealed a bright red color, as obvious as rose juice stained on white feathers. The boy turned his back almost instantly, wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve roughly, and said quickly, "Thank you for your hospitality, but I think I still can't enjoy this kind of topic - you really think too much." ,sir, wish you good luck, I need to go now-"
"Sit down." Charles ordered simply.
"No sir, I-"
"You know you can't refuse me," Charles had always had a bad expression on the boy, but now he had a seemingly kind smile on his face, "You can't, kid."
How should I put it, this smile is quite similar to that of Professor chill.
He shivered, his legs softened, and he sat on the stool again, and Charles even laughed at this—a laugh that sounded like a successful prank.
Draco really wanted to protest against this direct attitude, or roll his eyes or something; but considering that the person sitting in front of him was Harry's father, he had to endure it, rubbed his face, and put all the He swallowed all the complaints and devoted more harsh words to Felton who had caused their situation.
Well, at least Charles smiled because of this. He could use this to feel proud in front of Harry for a while, something like 'your dad laughed very happily when we had tea with me today'... maybe the little idiot will still be disappointed. , because it is difficult for Charles to smile even when facing his beloved child. To Charles at this time, smiles are as rare as stars in the sky.
"Okay, okay," Draco said in a low voice, "making you laugh is something worth making a fool of me about."
"I just want you to talk more." Charles stopped smiling and his tone was less cold. "After all, as you can see, I have nothing better to do in a hurry."
Draco was silent for a moment at his words.
"May I venture to ask you a question, sir?" he ventured.
Charles tapped his chin, signaling for him to speak.
"You said this is a cage." Draco was afraid that he would regret it, so he boldly put forward his idea, but also despised his inability to get rid of the Gryffindor spirit (so-called courage), "But no one stopped us from coming and going. , and there's no one blocking your way - if this house feels like a prison to you, why not go outside? If you want - you know - Francis can take you anywhere, anywhere you feel free enough .”
After saying that, he held his breath, fearing that the next second, he would be controlled by the angry Charles and crawl out of here. But unexpectedly, the man sitting opposite him was not angry. Instead, he glanced at him and answered his questions in a very calm tone.
"Just because the cage is large doesn't mean it's not a cage," Charles said lightly. "Before deciding what you really think, obeying life and moving from one cage to a larger cage is not liberation. Rather than that, I would rather Think more in a smaller place.”
He spoke so calmly, but he obviously didn't like the topic - because Draco watched helplessly as he pulled out a bottle of wine from nowhere, opened the cap of the bottle and poured it into the empty glass, followed by a slice of lemon. , and took a sip. The speed of his hand made Draco deeply suspicious for a moment: Who is the one who can do magic, between himself and the man opposite?
"But we are very concerned about your condition," Draco said bravely, "Maybe what I said is too offensive, sir, but drinking too much wine is not good for your health. My cousin is always worried about this, and he said that if you want, I I don’t know, what kind of medicine or something, so it’s best not to drink.”
"Oh," Charles let out a soft sigh, "So you're using all the power he has over me to try to dissuade me?"
Once again, Draco couldn't help but think, how many times had Charles revealed this vague information.
Does this man really know that Harry will be his future son? But what is going on?
"I think everyone is concerned about your health." He answered vaguely. "It is undeniable that my cousin is particularly concerned about you--he really, really--respects you."
After saying this, he began to despise himself again - how inelegant, how dry, how lacking in polish, and how un-Slytherin sounded! Draco Malfoy, that's what you say, right? ! What has ruined your literature class results? ?
But the words made Charles let out a low laugh.
He wasn't looking at Draco, but looking away. Draco didn't know what he was thinking, but those beautiful blue eyes were no longer dim and decadent, but gradually began to glow like sparks igniting ashes.
"I know," he whispered, "I know. Just give me...a little more time. Just a little."
Draco looked at the situation and closed his mouth, not daring to say another word.
——I wonder what Harry is doing now.
He looked blankly and thought with complicated emotions.
…………
The worried Harry did not sneeze, but stood on the lawn of a non-British land, carrying a bamboo basket and looking around on tiptoe, looking like some strange hawker.
Harry looked around - this was a house in a community in Washington, USA, and it seemed that the owner of the house, Ms. Magda, was still adhering to her living habits and kept the place very clean and tidy. Harry was stepping on the lawn. I always wanted to stand on tiptoe to avoid being stepped on.
Peter, Peter, Peter…
Harry muttered his brother's name silently as he tiptoed gently around the house to check on the situation.
After sending James and Sirius away, he looked at the turkey rolls that were still kept warm, and looked at the figures of James and Sirius laughing side by side who hadn't gone far away. He couldn't help but think of his brother, and what he made during Thanksgiving last year. Turkey - Peter always likes turkey, Peter always eats it up, Peter always likes the food he cooks.
Peter, Peter... Maybe it was a strangely touching scene. He watched his godfather and father walk away like brothers. Looking at the turkey again, it was hard not to think of his brothers and sisters and feel guilty.
What are the brothers and sisters he has not seen for a long time doing in the future now? And what is little Peter doing now?
…………
That's why Harry is here now like a thief.
He shook his head, concentrated, and skillfully and quietly walked around to the front. After looking, Ms. Magda's car was not there, which meant that she had gone to work. Next, he quickly walked around to the back, and found the skylight that could be seen from the basement with familiarity. He squatted down, held his breath nervously, and looked inside.
...Is this behavior a bit like a voyeur? Harry slapped his face.
He looked inside through the gap in the blinds and saw that the not-so-lit basement was still the same: messy merchandise boxes, old TVs, game consoles, ping-pong tables... and the silver-haired little boy was wearing a bright cartoon suit. T-shirt, chewing gum boredly on the old sofa.
He looked really bored because his feet were tossing a football around so fast that it looked like it was floating in the air; and after a while, he stood up again Hold the table tennis racket, hit the ball here, and then run to the other side of the table to hit the ball back.
Bang bang bang, he was a little child standing in front of the table, creating the atmosphere and style of two people by himself. Normally, ordinary people should say 'how incredible', but Harry felt sour in his heart when he saw it.
Because Peter doesn't seem happy about this kind of game - this is a game that only he plays from beginning to end, and he decides the outcome.
Looking at that little face without a smile at all, Harry made up his mind.
He mustered up the courage, raised his hand, and knocked three times on the edge of the skylight: "...Hi, Peter, are you there?"
※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※
OK, safe on base!
I found that people really can't stay in the room every day...otherwise I would sleep from morning to night.
Is this state of being incapable of doing anything, whether it has been locked up for a long time, or is there something really wrong with my mental condition? Otherwise, why would I often sit at the table all night and just not be able to write a word? ? ? ? ?
Why, why on earth do I have to live like this QAQ
As I continue to break my biological clock, I want to live a regular life...
ps: I want to ask for help. I found a facility like the Marvel Time and Space Administration in the stills revealed in "Loki". Does anyone have any impressions related to the comics? For example, what kind of organization is it, what does it do in general, etc... I'm afraid that it will conflict with it after I finish writing the setting of Days of Future Past. If anyone has any impressions and can tell me about it, I would be very grateful... Now that there is such a thing, what happened in the last few minutes of Women's Federation 4? ? ? ?
Next update on Tuesday, next update on Tuesday, next update on Tuesday, important things to say three times, next update is on March 10th...
Thank you everyone for urging me to update. I like it very much (?). I found that I am really afraid that no one will read my article...
Thank you to the little angels who voted for me or irrigated the nutrient solution between 2020-02-15 21:59:58~2020-03-07 14:58:48~
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