Fic: Never the Same Again (Part 2 of 3)
Part 1, warning, ratings etc can be found HERE. Read that bit first *grins*
Never the Same Again Part 2 of 3
-*-*-
07 - 31st July 2002 - Traitor
It had, Draco decided, been one of the longest months of his life.
Everything seemed to be getting harder, whether it was teaching or trying to do spells. He knew it was all due to the pregnancy. His mother had told him it had happened to her - something to do with the combined magicks of mother and child. Thirty weeks down, if his calculations were right, and another nine to go. It was getting harder to remain aloof and unemotional. The baby kicked and disturbed his sleep, and then kicked and disturbed his waking hours.
Then there were the cravings! He’d always hated treacle tart, the sweet concoction leaving him feeling sick, but now he couldn’t get enough of it. As for hiding the baby from everyone, he was grateful that all the students had gone for the summer and Harry had persuaded him to leave. The masque spells were getting harder and harder to perform and he hid himself away as much as possible. He wasn’t even sure he could keep the truth from Voldemort if the Dark Lord was to get into his mind. Harry had been right about not telling him anything.
He shifted slightly on what had once been his favourite chair. It was now uncomfortable and he longed to just lie down to rest for just a few minutes.
But he would have time for that once he’d got out of Hogwarts and was safe. All he needed to do now was find his mother, who knew nothing of his plan, and get her to the Room of Requirement. Then together they would go through the Cabinets to the safe house.
Picking up his wand, Draco took a breath and concentrated on the spells he needed to perform. “One last time, Draco, one last time.” He cast the spells and felt them wrap around himself until his swollen belly was hidden from view. The magic was fragile and wouldn’t last long.
Quickly he picked up a small bag with the few possessions he wanted to take with him and shrank it so that it would fit into a pocket. A second bag contained some items of his mother’s; Narcissa wouldn’t have time to pack and he hoped he’d found everything she might want.
With one last glance in the mirror to check the magic, he slipped his wand into his sleeve and left the room that had been his home for almost a year.
-*-*-
They were waiting in the corridor.
Augustus Rockwood, Voldemort’s Chief of Security, and Amycus Carrow, the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Behind them were Vincent Crabbe and Marcus Flint, who, at some unseen command, moved until Draco found himself standing in the middle of the four.
Mustering his best sneer, he lifted his chin definitely and stared at Rockwood. He wanted to say something suitably scathing but his mind had gone strangely blank. All he could think of was, “Yes?”
Rockwood grinned at Carrow. Neither had liked his father and they’d turned their dislike onto Draco. “His Lordship requests your presence.” Rockwood tut-tutted as he shook his head. “Have you been a naughty boy, Draco? Daddy would be so ashamed.”
-*-*-
Harry paced.
Draco had sent him a message on the coin to say that he would be at the safe house around mid-day and Harry had been waiting for over two hours.
So he paced, pausing occasionally to check the Cabinet before pacing some more.
This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his birthday; Hermione and Ron had arranged something that was supposed to be a secret. He’d told them he might be bringing a friend by later and they should set an extra place at the table, though what they’d do when they found out it was Draco, Harry had no idea. But he had more important things on his mind than parties. Something had to be wrong, otherwise Draco would have sent him a message to say he was going to be late.
Harry checked the coin again and considered sending yet another message of his own, but he’d only sent one fifteen minutes ago.
Stopping in front of the Cabinet, he opened the door. The only trouble was that if he stepped inside, it would stop Draco using it from the other end. He’d already tried it once, but there was nothing at the other end, just darkness. And not the darkness of night either; more like stepping into nothing. He shivered at the memory and wondered if that was what death felt like.
Pushing aside the morbid thoughts he closed the door. The reason for the darkness could be many things. Perhaps the Room of Requirement was being used for something else, which would stop it from becoming the Room of Hidden Things. Or maybe Draco hadn’t completed the connection between the two Cabinets. Whatever the reason Harry was starting to feel frustrated at being so helpless.
“Come on, Draco, give me a sign.”
Harry paced.
-*-*-
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He was meant to be escaping with his mother to a new life, not on the floor writhing in agony from the Dark Lord’s curses.
Draco clutched at his belly, trying to protect his child from the pain; he could feel its silent screams and wondered if something so fragile could survive. And somewhere in the midst of the pain, he could feel the Dark Lord pushing at the edges of his mind. Prodding and poking. Looking for a way in. Looking for answers. He could hear Voldemort’s cold voice chipping away.
“Are you a spy, Draco?”
“Have you deceived me, Draco?”
“Are you lying to me, Draco?”
“What are his plans, Draco?”
And the pain was so intense that he wondered if he was going to die right there, on the floor of the Great Hall.
“Please, Master! Please!”
At first he thought the voice was his own, but his teeth were clenched tightly together he couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to. It came again, this time shrill and pleading, and he realised it was his mother.
“Stop! Please stop! He’s a pregnant ... Draco’s a Begietan and he’s having a baby!”
The curses stopped instantly and Draco sobbed in relief as he curled into a ball at the Dark Lord’s feet. He felt Voldemort’s magic flow over him and knew that all the carefully constructed masque spells had disappeared. Around him there was a buzz from the people watching and he knew that everyone could see his swollen belly.
“Leave us!” The Dark Lord’s voice cut through the surprised chatter.
Forcing his eyes open he managed to focus on Narcissa. She was on her knees; one hand clutching at Voldemort’s robes while the other was wrapped about his wand hand. Voldemort pulled himself free with enough force to send Narcissa sprawling to the floor.
“I SAID LEAVE US!” Rushing footsteps on the stone answered. “Your will remain.” A bony white finger pointed at Narcissa and Draco watched as his mother froze. “Tour son is a traitor, Narcissa. He has been spying against me and deserves to die.”
Draco felt Voldemort’s mind seeping into his own with words like ‘whore’ and ‘betrayer’.
“But ... but....” Narcissa started to crawl towards Draco.
“But to kill a Begietan, especially one with child, is a heinous crime.”
Even in the midst of his pain, Draco managed to smile. Who would have thought Voldemort was a person to have scruples about anything.
“Who is the father?” The question was a quiet hiss as Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco. “Tell me and I’ll let your son live.”
Narcissa let out a sob of anguish. “The baby ... belongs to Harry Potter.”
If his mother said anything else, Draco didn’t hear it because his mind went blank as he passed out.
-*-*-
Grimmauld Place was in darkness when Harry finally returned. It was late, almost midnight and everyone seemed to have gone to bed. He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration at letting all his friends down and because he had no idea how Draco currently was. Of course he knew where Draco was - in a room in what had once been Gryffindor Tower with his mother and, at one point, Severus. But what he didn’t know was what had happened to prevent Draco leaving.
As he stood in the dark hallway berating himself for allowing Draco to return a month ago, he became aware of light coming from the stairs leading down to the basement kitchen. The door to the kitchen was closed but light seeped out from around it and Harry pushed it open.
Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table that had clearly been laid for his birthday dinner. On the dresser was a large cake with the words Happy Birthday Harry in red icing and beside it were several wrapped packages.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say.
“Try telling that to mum,” Ron glowered. “She spent all day cooking.”
“I’ll apologise to her in the morning.” Harry sat down and rested his head in his hand. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a cup of tea?”
-*-*-
Draco woke up with someone’s hand brushing his hair and the name was on his lips before he could stop himself. “Harry?” It hurt to talk, as if he had a sore throat and he remembered screaming.
“No, sweetheart, it’s mummy.” The stroking stilled and Draco felt lips kiss his forehead.
Normally he was strong; he’d been taught not to show his emotions, but he hurt and Narcissa had called herself ‘mummy’. He felt tears well in his eyes and before he could stop himself, he was weeping on his mother’s shoulder. She cradled him against her, murmuring soft endearments as she continued to stroke his hair until the tears finally ceased.
“You told him.” Draco finally whispered in her ear.
“He was going to kill you. He’s taken my husband, Draco, I wasn’t going to let him take my son and grandchild as well.” Narcissa held him close and his rising indignation dissipated. He hurt too much to be angry at the moment.
“I know, but-”
“Shhhh.” A finger rested against Draco’s lips. “Talk quietly and carefully. He might be listening.”
Draco nodded, chastising himself for not thinking. “But now he can use the baby against Harry.”
“At least you’re alive.”
He rested a hand on his stomach and for once he actually wanted to feel the baby kick; what if the curses had injured it? There was nothing. “What’s he going to do to me?”
“I don’t know, but he’s ordered you to be put into seclusion. You are to talk to and see no one without his authority.”
“I need to....” Draco paused as, finally, he felt a movement. “Oh.”
“What is it?”
“The baby kicked.” He smiled up at his mother and reached for her hand. “He’s okay. Here - feel.”
Draco watched as Narcissa smiled back, her expression one he hadn’t seen since he was a child. It had all gone wrong, but he was going to get out of this. For the first time since he’d realised he was pregnant, Draco knew how much he wanted this child and he wasn’t going to let anybody, not even Voldemort, to take his baby away.
-*-*-
No one spoke until mugs of tea were placed on the table.
“What happened, Harry? You look like the earth has opened up and swallowed you whole” Hermione’s hand rubbed affectionately at his shoulder. “Has something happened to your spy?”
Harry picked up the mug and stared at the liquid inside. Ron and Hermione were his best friends and he’d told them just about everything. But not what he was planning to do with Voldemort and not who the spy was. His lip quirked in a vestige of smile, and certainly not that he was in love with Draco or that he would be a father in a couple of months. The smile disappeared. Had he ever told Draco that he loved him? “The spy,” he took a deep breath, “is Draco Malfoy.”
Ron almost choked on his tea. “What?”
“It was Snape’s idea,” Harry quickly interjected. “You know how difficult he was finding it and he suggested Draco take over.”
“But Malfoy? That tosser is only ever interested in his own neck. He’ll give you away the first opportunity he has.”
“Ron.” Hermione chided softly. “He saved your life.”
“He did not!”
She was nodding. “If Malfoy is Harry’s spy, then he was the one who told Harry about the raid on Shell Cottage.”
Ron scowled at the thought of owing Draco his life. Without Draco’s warning Ron and the twins would probably all be dead. As it turned out they were able to turn the raid to the Order’s advantage. It had looked like a seemingly helpless old couple lived in the cottage and there had been uproar about their arrest and questioning. One small step in a big war.
“Okay, so he saved my life, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a tosser.”
“Yeah, well, he may be a tosser, but he’s become very important to me. And not just because he’s a spy.” Harry looked down at the rings his mug had left on the table and wondered just how much he should tell them. In the end he knew only the truth would work. “You know Charlie’s due to have his baby any day?” Ron nodded. “Well, Draco’s pregnant and I’m the father.”
-*-*-
08 - 12th August 2002 - Pawn
“Well?”
Severus bowed his head a little, not so much a bow as a nod of his head. “If the dates are correct then the child was conceived at a very fortuitous moment.” He didn’t like divination and normally wouldn’t give it any credence, but when the Dark Lord suggests a course of research then one didn’t refuse. “There was a grand conjunction on your last birthday.”
Voldemort gave a cold, high laugh as he studied the parchment with Severus’ working on. “And Draco celebrated it by having sex with my enemy. How loyal of him. And the child? Boy or girl?”
“It will be a boy.”
“Are you certain?”
“Prediction magic is just that, Master. Predictive.”
“Imagine a boy with the combination of Potter and Malfoy magic." Voldemort looked at him, red eyes glinting. "I will raise him as my own child.”
“And Potter?” Hiding his horror at the thought, Severus debated for a moment whether to push things a little further. “Unless Potter is at the birth, Draco will need an operation.”
“Then Draco will need an operation.” Voldemort stroked his chin thoughtfully. “As for Potter, we will deal with him once and for all. Imagine how devastated he would be if something happened to his child?”
Bile rose in Severus’ throat. Potter was always too emotional for his own good. “Draco will need specialist medical care if the baby is to be delivered safely.”
“He will receive the all the care he needs for this child to be born, but never forget he is a traitor, Severus. He betrayed my trust and sold himself to my greatest enemy. He should be grateful that he is being held in comfortable surroundings rather than the dungeons." The man’s face hardened. "You persuaded me into giving Draco a job here, if I ever find out that you knew of his plans...” The sentence remained unfinished as Voldemort stared at him.
“Master, have I not proved my loyalty to you over the years?”
“We will see. I plan on making a statement in the Daily Prophet tomorrow and only a few people will know it’s a lie. If Potter should find out the truth, then I will know there is more than one spy in my camp.” With that he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. The audience was over.
Severus bowed again and backed towards the door, which he closed behind him with a soft click.
Once in the corridor he stood by a window that looked out onto the Quidditch pitch. He needed to get word to Potter, but the problem was he’d lost contact since Draco had taken over as spy and he had no idea how the two arranged their meetings or where they met. He scoffed and shook his head, how stupid of them to get involved with each other. It wasn’t surprising that Potter would be idiotic enough to get someone pregnant, particularly as he probably didn’t even realise it was possible for it to happen to a wizard. But he’d thought better of Draco; in a war one doesn’t give the enemy an opportunity to use one’s family against them.
And Salazar only knows what Voldemort was planning for the Prophet.
Was it still possible for him to get into Grimmauld Place? And should he risk a trip to London? Even as Hogwarts’ Headmaster, he would need to obtain a travel pass for the train journey and Rockwood would take great delight in refusing him unless he could prove the trip was necessary.
No, he would have to wait until the students returned in September when he was expected to be on the train. Then perhaps he could find out what Potter might be planning.
-*-*-
The Daily Prophet
Draco Malfoy Dead. Suicide a possibility.
The body of Draco Malfoy was found yesterday at the foot of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts Castle. Malfoy (22) is believed to have fallen to his death from the same spot that Albus Dumbledore jumped five years ago. A note was found in what has been confirmed as Malfoy’s handwriting.
“Mr Malfoy joined the staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry last September as a Teacher of Potions. He was well liked by both students and staff, and we are all shocked by his death,” said Headmaster Severus Snape. “However, Draco confessed to me a few days ago that he was pregnant and that the father had deserted him. I never expected the poor boy to do something this desperate.”
Although Malfoy’s suicide note has not been released yet, it is rumoured to name the father of his baby and to allege that Malfoy had been assaulted by the man in question.
Harry read no further. He stared from the photograph of Draco that took up half of the front page to the worried faces of Ron and Hermione. Blood pounded in his temples and he couldn’t breathe. “It’s a lie,” he managed to hiss. “It can’t be true. Draco wouldn’t ... couldn’t.... I didn’t....” His fingers tightened their grip until the paper ripped. “He can’t be dead.”
“Sorry, Harry. But Percy says its all people are talking about at the Prophet.” Ron shuffled his feet. “And he saw Mrs Malfoy last night and....”
“No!” Harry scrambled to his feet, the chair crashing to the floor as he knocked it over. “I’d know if he was dead. I’D KNOW!”
“Harry, please....”
But he didn’t listen. Instead he fled from the kitchen up to his bedroom where he once again opened the Marauder’s Map. Eyes scanning it he looked for the little dots represented Draco and the baby, but he couldn’t find them. Dropping to his knees, he spread the map on the floor and began a more systematic search. Others were there - Snape in the Great Hall, Voldemort in his quarters, and he even found Narcissa. But of Draco there was no sign.
He started again. Draco had to be somewhere and he’d just missed him.
A hand touched his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and he looked up to find Hermione at his side. She crouched down beside him. “Ron’s going to see what else he can find out and....”
Harry blinked as tears began pricking in his eyes. “I can’t find him, Hermione.”
Hermione wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll help you look.”
Managing a nod, Harry smoothed out the sheet of newsprint. The photograph of Draco was smiling at him. “We were going to have a baby.”
“I know, Harry.” Hermione hugged him closer.
“Be a family.” Something splashed onto the photograph and it took Harry a moment to realise he was crying. “And I never told him how much I loved him.”
-*-*-
The church at Wynterburn Caen had been part of the Malfoy estate for centuries and generations of the family had been married there. It was also the final resting place for many, including the late Lucius Malfoy who had been interred in the family mausoleum.
The great and good of the wizarding community filed into the church, muttering their sympathies to Narcissa Malfoy, squeezing her hand and gently patting it. They put her remoteness down to shock, and whispered to each other that it must have been awful to find out that your son had been raped by none other than Harry Potter and about how they’d always known there was something strange about the Boy Who Lived. Occasionally they would look back over their shoulders because no one had expected the Lord High Chancellor to bother attending the funeral of a schoolteacher even if he was a Malfoy.
The Lord High Chancellor stood with one hand on Narcissa’s shoulder, the pose giving the appearance of caring, but he found it easier to control the Imperiused woman when touching her. She was the epitome of the grieving mother, perfect for the occasion.
He watched as the church filled and wondered which one of the people might be Harry Potter. Potter was nothing if predictable and he had no doubt that he would attend his lover’s funeral. That was why his most trusted Death Eaters were stationed in and around the building. Anyone using Polyjuice would find it wearing off long before the service was over and he would finally have Potter.
And if not now, then later. Potter would be distraught and make mistakes that could be capitalised on.
The coffin arrived on a horse-drawn hearse and was carried into the church by four liveried men wearing the Chancellor’s colours. They drew their wands forming a column of light for the coffin to rest on and that provided the only illumination in the church as the door closed.
Outside hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak, Harry Potter watched. He’d wanted to go into the church, but Hermione had made him promise not to do anything stupid. She’d been right, of course, because there were Death Eaters everywhere but that still didn’t stop him wanting to be close - needing to have one last moment with Draco. And knowing what all those people thought of him didn’t help; they believed the lies and there was nothing Harry could do to persuade them otherwise. Even he had to admit the suicide letter looked like it was in Draco’s handwriting and it hurt so much.
So fucking much!
Harry reached a hand to his face and wiped away a tear. He still didn’t want to believe that Draco had killed himself and knew enough about magic to know that letters could be faked and people made to do things. But in the two weeks since the report in the Daily Prophet he’d found no trace; nothing that might prove Draco was still alive.
He was positive that if Draco were dead, he would know. There was a sense of connection that refused to go away and sometimes when he did magic Harry felt like there was more to it then his own magical signature.
So he hung onto the thought that Draco and his unborn son were still alive and this all some plot by Voldemort. Hung on to the hope that soon - very soon - they would all be together somewhere safe.
As singing rose from inside the church, Harry turned on heel and walked away.
-*-*-
“Draco.”
The voice was soft, almost caring, but Draco knew exactly who it was and it brought an icy lump of fear to the pit of his stomach. He was lying on his side facing away from the voice and for a moment he thought to stay there, pretending to be asleep.
“I know you are awake, Draco.”
He screwed his eyes tightly shut, one hand cradling his belly.
“Today we buried you. It was a beautiful ceremony in which people spoke highly of you.” The voice sighed sardonically. “Poor Draco, the boy who was raped and killed himself. Such a shame.”
Draco bit his lip in an attempt not to curse and swear at the visitor. He knew of the lies; seen copies of the Daily Prophet.
“Of course, your lover wasn’t there.” The voice was closer. “Do you think he is grieving for you in private? There is no one to come to your rescue now, boy. Not even Sainted Potter.” The voice gave a cold, high chuckle. “Though he isn’t a saint any longer.”
“No!” Draco finally spoke, turning awkwardly to face his tormentor. “It’s not true.”
“What is truth, Draco? Except what we make people believe.” Voldemort stood over him, a wand in his hand; the wand Harry had asked Draco to give the man. “The only truth you need to concern yourself with is that everyone now believes you are dead, even Harry Potter. In six weeks you will give me a son who I intend to bring up as my own.”
“I won’t let you! Harry won’t let you.” Draco grabbed for the wand but the Dark Lord was too fast and he found himself unable to move or speak.
“You have no choice, Draco. No choice at all.”
-*-*-
Severus had always had a love-hate relationship with King's Cross station in general and platform nine and three-quarters in particular. He remembered with great fondness his own first trip on the scarlet Hogwarts Express and what it had felt like to finally be going to a magical school. And then there was sitting with Lily Evans on the train, only to have it all spoiled by Potter and Black.
See ya, Snivellus!
As he stood beside the train, the voice of James Potter called down the years. Or maybe it had been Sirius Black who’d taunted him with that awful name for the first time. In its way, that moment had been the beginning of the end.
His first meeting with that awful group of Gryffindors had cemented his hatred of them and perhaps it was that which had lead him into the comforting caress of the Dark Arts.
Severus rolled his eyes. No, it was pointless blaming long-dead people for his problems. He’d made his choices and they’d cost him his one great love. Now he would spend the rest of his life paying for it. Of course he didn’t have to be happy about it or to pretend he didn’t hate James Potter, but he would continue to keep his promise to Dumbledore and try to protect Lily’s son.
He began walking along the platform, hurrying children on to the train and passing the occasional word with their parents. He was almost at the end of the platform and away from the crowds, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Severus ... no, don’t turn round.”
The voice was instantly recognisable. “Potter. What in Merlin’s name are you doing here, you dunderhead! Don’t you realise this place is swarming with his people.” He spoke quietly hoping no one would notice.
“I know.” The voice was close to Severus’ ear and he could feel the slight press of Potter against his back. “But I had to see you. This was the only place I could think of.”
Severus reached behind him, fingers closing on the fluid softness of Potter’s Invisibility Cloak. “You need to be quick. The train will be leaving in a few minutes.”
“It’s Draco. I need to know if he’s really dead. Did he speak to you before he....”
“Jumped from the Astronomy Tower?” He took a breath. “The Dark Lord asked me to find out what the child would be. That was the last time I saw Draco alive.”
“But did you see his body?” The pressure on Severus’ back increased.
“Of course I did.” He paused as a thought drifted into his mind. Had he? He frowned, trying to picture in his mind the moment he’d seen the broken body on the ground, but instead the image was hazy and grey, like a half-forgotten dream. Like a false memory.
“Of course I did,” he repeated, more to convince himself than for Potter’s benefit.
“I saw Draco at the beginning of July and we were both so happy about the baby. I didn’t want him to go back to Hogwarts, but he insisted so he could finish something we were planning. He was going to leave for good at the end of July.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because it’s true. Look into my mind and you’re see it’s true.” Severus felt the invisible body move around him until Potter stood in front of him, hands holding his arms close to the elbows. “You know I’ve never be any good at Occlumency. And if you still don’t believe me, then you can call over one of those Death Eaters. I won’t run away.”
Severus looked to where he knew Potter’s eyes would be and imagined he could see them. It wasn’t hard to imagine the green colour staring back at him and, as he mouthed the incantation, he was inside the colour and into memories.
The truth was there, laid out like a series of photographs each telling part of a complete story.
But if Potter was telling the truth, then where did Severus’ memories come from?
The sound of the train whistle dragged Severus from the other man’s memories.
“Promise me you’ll look for him.” The invisible voice cracked with emotion.
“I promise. Now go, Rockwood is coming over.”
The hands gripping his arms tightened momentarily and then the pressure was gone.
-*-*-
-*-*-
09 - 1st October 2002 - Prisoner
“Harry.”
He looked up from his doodling to find Hermione standing by the door and he gave her a sad smile.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.” Harry gestured absently with his quill. “And I’ve got loads of things to do.”
“Such as?”
Harry gave a bitter laugh. “Save the whole of the wizarding world without any idea of how to do it. I was relying on Draco to get me into Hogwarts and...” He pulled off his glasses and pushed a hand into his hair. “And the baby was due today.”
“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry, I’d lost track of the days.”
He rubbed at his eye. “I should have found a way of getting him out, but instead I had to let him go back one more time.”
“You can’t save everyone, Harry.”
“I can’t even save my lover and child, Hermione! What’s more important than that?”
He got angrily to his feet and stalked over to a window. Outside of Grimmauld Place life carried on as it did every day. Muggles went about their business and two people sat on a bench in the small grass area in front of the row of houses. He knew the square was being watched, waiting for someone who was privy to the Fidelius charm to make a mistake.
“The trouble is, Hermione, that I can’t get it out of my mind that he isn’t dead. It’s like,” Harry gave an exasperated sigh, “it’s like when you catch something out of the corner of your eye but when you turn to look there’s nothing there.” He rested a hand on the glass. “And then there are the dreams.”
“You haven’t mentioned anything about dreams before.”
“That’s because I think I’m going mad with them.” Harry turned to face her, leaning against the windowsill. “I’m in a room somewhere, but I don’t know where it is, and I keep calling for help out of the window. But no one knows I’m there and no one can hear me because the room has been spell-proofed. There’s a baby crying, but I can’t find it no matter how hard I search. Then everything changes and I’m in another room that looks like the Great Hall. There’s a throne at one end and everybody’s on their knees because Voldemort is sitting in the chair. The baby is still crying and I’m running around looking for it while Voldemort is going on and on about living forever and his soul never dying. Then I see the baby; it's under the throne and it’s actually Draco, but he’s a little baby not all grown up. But just as I’m going to pick him up I wake and out of the corner of my eye I’m sure there’s someone watching me.”
“And when you turn to look the person’s gone?”
Harry nodded. “I’m positive Draco’s being held prisoner. At first I thought he was still at Hogwarts, but if he was, then he’d show up on the Marauder’s Map. I’ve never known it not to work, so he has to be somewhere else. And why would Voldemort want everyone to think Draco’s dead?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione sat down at Harry’s desk.
“No.”
“What’s happened to the Order over the last six weeks?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, nothing. We’ve done hardly anything since the Prophet reported Draco’s suicide.”
“That’s not fair!” Harry folded his arms defiantly. “I’ve been trying to work out how to deal with the Horcruxes.”
“Have you? Or have you been sitting here doodling and blaming yourself?” Hermione waved the sheet of parchment at him. “I’m not blaming you or anything because I’d probably be doing the same thing. What I’m saying is that Voldemort found out Draco was going to have a baby and that you were the father. Even if he hadn’t known Draco was a spy before that, he would have put two and two together and known what was going on between you.” She put down the parchment. “So what better way to ruin all your plans then to take away your spy and then make you think Draco killed himself because of what you’d done to him.”
Harry stared at Hermione for several seconds as he tried to digest what she’d just said. He knew she was right, but it didn’t really help or get Draco back. Nor did it help in his fight against Voldemort, especially now the publicity machine had tarnished his image so thoroughly. “Okay, so what do we do?”
“We raise our gain and get back to doing what we do best - reminding people who Voldemort really is. We need to make sure people know the truth about Draco and the lies about him committing suicide.”
“And if he’s dead and it’s too late?”
“Then you take revenge in the best way possible - by getting rid of the person who took him from you. Now, let’s get back to how you’re going to destroy the last Horcrux.”
Harry pushed away from the window, crossed back to the desk and sat on the edge. “I have no idea, Hermione. I was relying on Draco being at Hogwarts and....” He stopped as he saw Ron was standing in the doorway.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt but Luna’s just returned with a copy of the Guardian.” Ron held up the newspaper. “And you know how she still reads the personal column just in case her dad sends a message.”
Harry nodded. The Order had been using the Prophet and a couple of Muggle newspapers as a way of contacting each other for ages. Percy had lost his job at the Ministry not long after Voldemort came to power and had taken a job as a reporter at the Prophet. His list of contacts was huge and it had been his suggestion to use the personal columns after seeing it in a Muggle film. “And?”
“There’s one from the Half-Blood Prince.”
“What?” Harry jumped off the desk and was at Ron’s side almost before the word was out of his mouth. 'Half-Blood Prince' had been Snape’s contact name when he’d spied for Harry and it hadn’t been used since Draco took over. Grabbing the paper, Harry scanned the page until he found the small advert.
Our New Celebrity - The Snitch is alive and well, but we don’t know where. No word on delivery yet. I am available for hire, normal terms and conditions apply - The Half-Blood Prince
“That’s Snape, isn’t it?” Ron tapped a finger on the page. “He’s going to spy for you again.”
“Oh yes,” Harry grinned at him. “And the Snitch is Draco. He’s alive, Ron. Draco’s alive!”
-*-*-
Draco wandered around the empty corridors of Malfoy Manor as best he could given that he was currently thirty-nine weeks pregnant. He’d been brought to the Manor over a month before, though he’d lost track of the exact date, and his calendar was no longer measured in days but in visits from Voldemort’s specialist nurse and healer. The nurse would berate him if she could see him now, but he didn’t care. If he stayed in his room one moment longer he’d go mad.
So he waddled the corridors of his family home, one hand almost permanently on his distended belly as if that brought him closer to the baby within. He spent hours talking to the child, telling him (Draco always thought of it as a boy ever since Harry had told him about the dot called ‘and Son’ on the Marauder’s Map) about the Malfoys and the house. He’d shown the baby all the family portraits and read him books from the library, and at night he would sit in his mother’s favourite chair and feel his son moving inside him.
But he was still a prisoner inside his own home. While the Manor knew who he was and tried to obey him, Draco could sense it struggling against more powerful wards; ones that kept him locked in the building and only let him access certain areas. Even the house-elves were nowhere to be seen; they left delicious food and clean clothes that fit his ever-increasing girth, but never allowed themselves to be seen even if he called them.
As for the nurse and the healer, both were exceptionally professional about their work, but they never answered any of his questions unless they were about the pregnancy. Now, as he stood in his mother’s sitting room staring out at the gardens that were already clothed in their autumn colours, he wondered if anyone besides these two - and of course Voldemort - knew he was alive.
And what was going to happen to him after this was over?
Draco’s hand made small circles on his stomach as he looked out of the window. If Voldemort really did plan to raise the baby as his own, then he wouldn’t want Draco around to remind everyone who the baby’s real father was. And if everyone thought he was dead, then how would they react to his sudden resurrection?
The baby kicked and Draco smiled. “Ready to come out then?” As if in reply, it kicked again. “Well, sorry but the nurse said you need another week or two.” The emotions that were always in a turmoil these days surfaced and he felt tears gather in his eyes. “You know, if anything happens to me, your real daddy will find you. Harry will know who you are and he’ll keep you safe.”
-*-*-
Part 3
Never the Same Again Part 2 of 3
-*-*-
07 - 31st July 2002 - Traitor
It had, Draco decided, been one of the longest months of his life.
Everything seemed to be getting harder, whether it was teaching or trying to do spells. He knew it was all due to the pregnancy. His mother had told him it had happened to her - something to do with the combined magicks of mother and child. Thirty weeks down, if his calculations were right, and another nine to go. It was getting harder to remain aloof and unemotional. The baby kicked and disturbed his sleep, and then kicked and disturbed his waking hours.
Then there were the cravings! He’d always hated treacle tart, the sweet concoction leaving him feeling sick, but now he couldn’t get enough of it. As for hiding the baby from everyone, he was grateful that all the students had gone for the summer and Harry had persuaded him to leave. The masque spells were getting harder and harder to perform and he hid himself away as much as possible. He wasn’t even sure he could keep the truth from Voldemort if the Dark Lord was to get into his mind. Harry had been right about not telling him anything.
He shifted slightly on what had once been his favourite chair. It was now uncomfortable and he longed to just lie down to rest for just a few minutes.
But he would have time for that once he’d got out of Hogwarts and was safe. All he needed to do now was find his mother, who knew nothing of his plan, and get her to the Room of Requirement. Then together they would go through the Cabinets to the safe house.
Picking up his wand, Draco took a breath and concentrated on the spells he needed to perform. “One last time, Draco, one last time.” He cast the spells and felt them wrap around himself until his swollen belly was hidden from view. The magic was fragile and wouldn’t last long.
Quickly he picked up a small bag with the few possessions he wanted to take with him and shrank it so that it would fit into a pocket. A second bag contained some items of his mother’s; Narcissa wouldn’t have time to pack and he hoped he’d found everything she might want.
With one last glance in the mirror to check the magic, he slipped his wand into his sleeve and left the room that had been his home for almost a year.
-*-*-
They were waiting in the corridor.
Augustus Rockwood, Voldemort’s Chief of Security, and Amycus Carrow, the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Behind them were Vincent Crabbe and Marcus Flint, who, at some unseen command, moved until Draco found himself standing in the middle of the four.
Mustering his best sneer, he lifted his chin definitely and stared at Rockwood. He wanted to say something suitably scathing but his mind had gone strangely blank. All he could think of was, “Yes?”
Rockwood grinned at Carrow. Neither had liked his father and they’d turned their dislike onto Draco. “His Lordship requests your presence.” Rockwood tut-tutted as he shook his head. “Have you been a naughty boy, Draco? Daddy would be so ashamed.”
-*-*-
Harry paced.
Draco had sent him a message on the coin to say that he would be at the safe house around mid-day and Harry had been waiting for over two hours.
So he paced, pausing occasionally to check the Cabinet before pacing some more.
This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his birthday; Hermione and Ron had arranged something that was supposed to be a secret. He’d told them he might be bringing a friend by later and they should set an extra place at the table, though what they’d do when they found out it was Draco, Harry had no idea. But he had more important things on his mind than parties. Something had to be wrong, otherwise Draco would have sent him a message to say he was going to be late.
Harry checked the coin again and considered sending yet another message of his own, but he’d only sent one fifteen minutes ago.
Stopping in front of the Cabinet, he opened the door. The only trouble was that if he stepped inside, it would stop Draco using it from the other end. He’d already tried it once, but there was nothing at the other end, just darkness. And not the darkness of night either; more like stepping into nothing. He shivered at the memory and wondered if that was what death felt like.
Pushing aside the morbid thoughts he closed the door. The reason for the darkness could be many things. Perhaps the Room of Requirement was being used for something else, which would stop it from becoming the Room of Hidden Things. Or maybe Draco hadn’t completed the connection between the two Cabinets. Whatever the reason Harry was starting to feel frustrated at being so helpless.
“Come on, Draco, give me a sign.”
Harry paced.
-*-*-
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He was meant to be escaping with his mother to a new life, not on the floor writhing in agony from the Dark Lord’s curses.
Draco clutched at his belly, trying to protect his child from the pain; he could feel its silent screams and wondered if something so fragile could survive. And somewhere in the midst of the pain, he could feel the Dark Lord pushing at the edges of his mind. Prodding and poking. Looking for a way in. Looking for answers. He could hear Voldemort’s cold voice chipping away.
“Are you a spy, Draco?”
“Have you deceived me, Draco?”
“Are you lying to me, Draco?”
“What are his plans, Draco?”
And the pain was so intense that he wondered if he was going to die right there, on the floor of the Great Hall.
“Please, Master! Please!”
At first he thought the voice was his own, but his teeth were clenched tightly together he couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to. It came again, this time shrill and pleading, and he realised it was his mother.
“Stop! Please stop! He’s a pregnant ... Draco’s a Begietan and he’s having a baby!”
The curses stopped instantly and Draco sobbed in relief as he curled into a ball at the Dark Lord’s feet. He felt Voldemort’s magic flow over him and knew that all the carefully constructed masque spells had disappeared. Around him there was a buzz from the people watching and he knew that everyone could see his swollen belly.
“Leave us!” The Dark Lord’s voice cut through the surprised chatter.
Forcing his eyes open he managed to focus on Narcissa. She was on her knees; one hand clutching at Voldemort’s robes while the other was wrapped about his wand hand. Voldemort pulled himself free with enough force to send Narcissa sprawling to the floor.
“I SAID LEAVE US!” Rushing footsteps on the stone answered. “Your will remain.” A bony white finger pointed at Narcissa and Draco watched as his mother froze. “Tour son is a traitor, Narcissa. He has been spying against me and deserves to die.”
Draco felt Voldemort’s mind seeping into his own with words like ‘whore’ and ‘betrayer’.
“But ... but....” Narcissa started to crawl towards Draco.
“But to kill a Begietan, especially one with child, is a heinous crime.”
Even in the midst of his pain, Draco managed to smile. Who would have thought Voldemort was a person to have scruples about anything.
“Who is the father?” The question was a quiet hiss as Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco. “Tell me and I’ll let your son live.”
Narcissa let out a sob of anguish. “The baby ... belongs to Harry Potter.”
If his mother said anything else, Draco didn’t hear it because his mind went blank as he passed out.
-*-*-
Grimmauld Place was in darkness when Harry finally returned. It was late, almost midnight and everyone seemed to have gone to bed. He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration at letting all his friends down and because he had no idea how Draco currently was. Of course he knew where Draco was - in a room in what had once been Gryffindor Tower with his mother and, at one point, Severus. But what he didn’t know was what had happened to prevent Draco leaving.
As he stood in the dark hallway berating himself for allowing Draco to return a month ago, he became aware of light coming from the stairs leading down to the basement kitchen. The door to the kitchen was closed but light seeped out from around it and Harry pushed it open.
Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table that had clearly been laid for his birthday dinner. On the dresser was a large cake with the words Happy Birthday Harry in red icing and beside it were several wrapped packages.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say.
“Try telling that to mum,” Ron glowered. “She spent all day cooking.”
“I’ll apologise to her in the morning.” Harry sat down and rested his head in his hand. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a cup of tea?”
-*-*-
Draco woke up with someone’s hand brushing his hair and the name was on his lips before he could stop himself. “Harry?” It hurt to talk, as if he had a sore throat and he remembered screaming.
“No, sweetheart, it’s mummy.” The stroking stilled and Draco felt lips kiss his forehead.
Normally he was strong; he’d been taught not to show his emotions, but he hurt and Narcissa had called herself ‘mummy’. He felt tears well in his eyes and before he could stop himself, he was weeping on his mother’s shoulder. She cradled him against her, murmuring soft endearments as she continued to stroke his hair until the tears finally ceased.
“You told him.” Draco finally whispered in her ear.
“He was going to kill you. He’s taken my husband, Draco, I wasn’t going to let him take my son and grandchild as well.” Narcissa held him close and his rising indignation dissipated. He hurt too much to be angry at the moment.
“I know, but-”
“Shhhh.” A finger rested against Draco’s lips. “Talk quietly and carefully. He might be listening.”
Draco nodded, chastising himself for not thinking. “But now he can use the baby against Harry.”
“At least you’re alive.”
He rested a hand on his stomach and for once he actually wanted to feel the baby kick; what if the curses had injured it? There was nothing. “What’s he going to do to me?”
“I don’t know, but he’s ordered you to be put into seclusion. You are to talk to and see no one without his authority.”
“I need to....” Draco paused as, finally, he felt a movement. “Oh.”
“What is it?”
“The baby kicked.” He smiled up at his mother and reached for her hand. “He’s okay. Here - feel.”
Draco watched as Narcissa smiled back, her expression one he hadn’t seen since he was a child. It had all gone wrong, but he was going to get out of this. For the first time since he’d realised he was pregnant, Draco knew how much he wanted this child and he wasn’t going to let anybody, not even Voldemort, to take his baby away.
-*-*-
No one spoke until mugs of tea were placed on the table.
“What happened, Harry? You look like the earth has opened up and swallowed you whole” Hermione’s hand rubbed affectionately at his shoulder. “Has something happened to your spy?”
Harry picked up the mug and stared at the liquid inside. Ron and Hermione were his best friends and he’d told them just about everything. But not what he was planning to do with Voldemort and not who the spy was. His lip quirked in a vestige of smile, and certainly not that he was in love with Draco or that he would be a father in a couple of months. The smile disappeared. Had he ever told Draco that he loved him? “The spy,” he took a deep breath, “is Draco Malfoy.”
Ron almost choked on his tea. “What?”
“It was Snape’s idea,” Harry quickly interjected. “You know how difficult he was finding it and he suggested Draco take over.”
“But Malfoy? That tosser is only ever interested in his own neck. He’ll give you away the first opportunity he has.”
“Ron.” Hermione chided softly. “He saved your life.”
“He did not!”
She was nodding. “If Malfoy is Harry’s spy, then he was the one who told Harry about the raid on Shell Cottage.”
Ron scowled at the thought of owing Draco his life. Without Draco’s warning Ron and the twins would probably all be dead. As it turned out they were able to turn the raid to the Order’s advantage. It had looked like a seemingly helpless old couple lived in the cottage and there had been uproar about their arrest and questioning. One small step in a big war.
“Okay, so he saved my life, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a tosser.”
“Yeah, well, he may be a tosser, but he’s become very important to me. And not just because he’s a spy.” Harry looked down at the rings his mug had left on the table and wondered just how much he should tell them. In the end he knew only the truth would work. “You know Charlie’s due to have his baby any day?” Ron nodded. “Well, Draco’s pregnant and I’m the father.”
-*-*-
08 - 12th August 2002 - Pawn
“Well?”
Severus bowed his head a little, not so much a bow as a nod of his head. “If the dates are correct then the child was conceived at a very fortuitous moment.” He didn’t like divination and normally wouldn’t give it any credence, but when the Dark Lord suggests a course of research then one didn’t refuse. “There was a grand conjunction on your last birthday.”
Voldemort gave a cold, high laugh as he studied the parchment with Severus’ working on. “And Draco celebrated it by having sex with my enemy. How loyal of him. And the child? Boy or girl?”
“It will be a boy.”
“Are you certain?”
“Prediction magic is just that, Master. Predictive.”
“Imagine a boy with the combination of Potter and Malfoy magic." Voldemort looked at him, red eyes glinting. "I will raise him as my own child.”
“And Potter?” Hiding his horror at the thought, Severus debated for a moment whether to push things a little further. “Unless Potter is at the birth, Draco will need an operation.”
“Then Draco will need an operation.” Voldemort stroked his chin thoughtfully. “As for Potter, we will deal with him once and for all. Imagine how devastated he would be if something happened to his child?”
Bile rose in Severus’ throat. Potter was always too emotional for his own good. “Draco will need specialist medical care if the baby is to be delivered safely.”
“He will receive the all the care he needs for this child to be born, but never forget he is a traitor, Severus. He betrayed my trust and sold himself to my greatest enemy. He should be grateful that he is being held in comfortable surroundings rather than the dungeons." The man’s face hardened. "You persuaded me into giving Draco a job here, if I ever find out that you knew of his plans...” The sentence remained unfinished as Voldemort stared at him.
“Master, have I not proved my loyalty to you over the years?”
“We will see. I plan on making a statement in the Daily Prophet tomorrow and only a few people will know it’s a lie. If Potter should find out the truth, then I will know there is more than one spy in my camp.” With that he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. The audience was over.
Severus bowed again and backed towards the door, which he closed behind him with a soft click.
Once in the corridor he stood by a window that looked out onto the Quidditch pitch. He needed to get word to Potter, but the problem was he’d lost contact since Draco had taken over as spy and he had no idea how the two arranged their meetings or where they met. He scoffed and shook his head, how stupid of them to get involved with each other. It wasn’t surprising that Potter would be idiotic enough to get someone pregnant, particularly as he probably didn’t even realise it was possible for it to happen to a wizard. But he’d thought better of Draco; in a war one doesn’t give the enemy an opportunity to use one’s family against them.
And Salazar only knows what Voldemort was planning for the Prophet.
Was it still possible for him to get into Grimmauld Place? And should he risk a trip to London? Even as Hogwarts’ Headmaster, he would need to obtain a travel pass for the train journey and Rockwood would take great delight in refusing him unless he could prove the trip was necessary.
No, he would have to wait until the students returned in September when he was expected to be on the train. Then perhaps he could find out what Potter might be planning.
-*-*-
The Daily Prophet
Draco Malfoy Dead. Suicide a possibility.
The body of Draco Malfoy was found yesterday at the foot of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts Castle. Malfoy (22) is believed to have fallen to his death from the same spot that Albus Dumbledore jumped five years ago. A note was found in what has been confirmed as Malfoy’s handwriting.
“Mr Malfoy joined the staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry last September as a Teacher of Potions. He was well liked by both students and staff, and we are all shocked by his death,” said Headmaster Severus Snape. “However, Draco confessed to me a few days ago that he was pregnant and that the father had deserted him. I never expected the poor boy to do something this desperate.”
Although Malfoy’s suicide note has not been released yet, it is rumoured to name the father of his baby and to allege that Malfoy had been assaulted by the man in question.
Harry read no further. He stared from the photograph of Draco that took up half of the front page to the worried faces of Ron and Hermione. Blood pounded in his temples and he couldn’t breathe. “It’s a lie,” he managed to hiss. “It can’t be true. Draco wouldn’t ... couldn’t.... I didn’t....” His fingers tightened their grip until the paper ripped. “He can’t be dead.”
“Sorry, Harry. But Percy says its all people are talking about at the Prophet.” Ron shuffled his feet. “And he saw Mrs Malfoy last night and....”
“No!” Harry scrambled to his feet, the chair crashing to the floor as he knocked it over. “I’d know if he was dead. I’D KNOW!”
“Harry, please....”
But he didn’t listen. Instead he fled from the kitchen up to his bedroom where he once again opened the Marauder’s Map. Eyes scanning it he looked for the little dots represented Draco and the baby, but he couldn’t find them. Dropping to his knees, he spread the map on the floor and began a more systematic search. Others were there - Snape in the Great Hall, Voldemort in his quarters, and he even found Narcissa. But of Draco there was no sign.
He started again. Draco had to be somewhere and he’d just missed him.
A hand touched his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and he looked up to find Hermione at his side. She crouched down beside him. “Ron’s going to see what else he can find out and....”
Harry blinked as tears began pricking in his eyes. “I can’t find him, Hermione.”
Hermione wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll help you look.”
Managing a nod, Harry smoothed out the sheet of newsprint. The photograph of Draco was smiling at him. “We were going to have a baby.”
“I know, Harry.” Hermione hugged him closer.
“Be a family.” Something splashed onto the photograph and it took Harry a moment to realise he was crying. “And I never told him how much I loved him.”
-*-*-
The church at Wynterburn Caen had been part of the Malfoy estate for centuries and generations of the family had been married there. It was also the final resting place for many, including the late Lucius Malfoy who had been interred in the family mausoleum.
The great and good of the wizarding community filed into the church, muttering their sympathies to Narcissa Malfoy, squeezing her hand and gently patting it. They put her remoteness down to shock, and whispered to each other that it must have been awful to find out that your son had been raped by none other than Harry Potter and about how they’d always known there was something strange about the Boy Who Lived. Occasionally they would look back over their shoulders because no one had expected the Lord High Chancellor to bother attending the funeral of a schoolteacher even if he was a Malfoy.
The Lord High Chancellor stood with one hand on Narcissa’s shoulder, the pose giving the appearance of caring, but he found it easier to control the Imperiused woman when touching her. She was the epitome of the grieving mother, perfect for the occasion.
He watched as the church filled and wondered which one of the people might be Harry Potter. Potter was nothing if predictable and he had no doubt that he would attend his lover’s funeral. That was why his most trusted Death Eaters were stationed in and around the building. Anyone using Polyjuice would find it wearing off long before the service was over and he would finally have Potter.
And if not now, then later. Potter would be distraught and make mistakes that could be capitalised on.
The coffin arrived on a horse-drawn hearse and was carried into the church by four liveried men wearing the Chancellor’s colours. They drew their wands forming a column of light for the coffin to rest on and that provided the only illumination in the church as the door closed.
Outside hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak, Harry Potter watched. He’d wanted to go into the church, but Hermione had made him promise not to do anything stupid. She’d been right, of course, because there were Death Eaters everywhere but that still didn’t stop him wanting to be close - needing to have one last moment with Draco. And knowing what all those people thought of him didn’t help; they believed the lies and there was nothing Harry could do to persuade them otherwise. Even he had to admit the suicide letter looked like it was in Draco’s handwriting and it hurt so much.
So fucking much!
Harry reached a hand to his face and wiped away a tear. He still didn’t want to believe that Draco had killed himself and knew enough about magic to know that letters could be faked and people made to do things. But in the two weeks since the report in the Daily Prophet he’d found no trace; nothing that might prove Draco was still alive.
He was positive that if Draco were dead, he would know. There was a sense of connection that refused to go away and sometimes when he did magic Harry felt like there was more to it then his own magical signature.
So he hung onto the thought that Draco and his unborn son were still alive and this all some plot by Voldemort. Hung on to the hope that soon - very soon - they would all be together somewhere safe.
As singing rose from inside the church, Harry turned on heel and walked away.
-*-*-
“Draco.”
The voice was soft, almost caring, but Draco knew exactly who it was and it brought an icy lump of fear to the pit of his stomach. He was lying on his side facing away from the voice and for a moment he thought to stay there, pretending to be asleep.
“I know you are awake, Draco.”
He screwed his eyes tightly shut, one hand cradling his belly.
“Today we buried you. It was a beautiful ceremony in which people spoke highly of you.” The voice sighed sardonically. “Poor Draco, the boy who was raped and killed himself. Such a shame.”
Draco bit his lip in an attempt not to curse and swear at the visitor. He knew of the lies; seen copies of the Daily Prophet.
“Of course, your lover wasn’t there.” The voice was closer. “Do you think he is grieving for you in private? There is no one to come to your rescue now, boy. Not even Sainted Potter.” The voice gave a cold, high chuckle. “Though he isn’t a saint any longer.”
“No!” Draco finally spoke, turning awkwardly to face his tormentor. “It’s not true.”
“What is truth, Draco? Except what we make people believe.” Voldemort stood over him, a wand in his hand; the wand Harry had asked Draco to give the man. “The only truth you need to concern yourself with is that everyone now believes you are dead, even Harry Potter. In six weeks you will give me a son who I intend to bring up as my own.”
“I won’t let you! Harry won’t let you.” Draco grabbed for the wand but the Dark Lord was too fast and he found himself unable to move or speak.
“You have no choice, Draco. No choice at all.”
-*-*-
Severus had always had a love-hate relationship with King's Cross station in general and platform nine and three-quarters in particular. He remembered with great fondness his own first trip on the scarlet Hogwarts Express and what it had felt like to finally be going to a magical school. And then there was sitting with Lily Evans on the train, only to have it all spoiled by Potter and Black.
See ya, Snivellus!
As he stood beside the train, the voice of James Potter called down the years. Or maybe it had been Sirius Black who’d taunted him with that awful name for the first time. In its way, that moment had been the beginning of the end.
His first meeting with that awful group of Gryffindors had cemented his hatred of them and perhaps it was that which had lead him into the comforting caress of the Dark Arts.
Severus rolled his eyes. No, it was pointless blaming long-dead people for his problems. He’d made his choices and they’d cost him his one great love. Now he would spend the rest of his life paying for it. Of course he didn’t have to be happy about it or to pretend he didn’t hate James Potter, but he would continue to keep his promise to Dumbledore and try to protect Lily’s son.
He began walking along the platform, hurrying children on to the train and passing the occasional word with their parents. He was almost at the end of the platform and away from the crowds, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Severus ... no, don’t turn round.”
The voice was instantly recognisable. “Potter. What in Merlin’s name are you doing here, you dunderhead! Don’t you realise this place is swarming with his people.” He spoke quietly hoping no one would notice.
“I know.” The voice was close to Severus’ ear and he could feel the slight press of Potter against his back. “But I had to see you. This was the only place I could think of.”
Severus reached behind him, fingers closing on the fluid softness of Potter’s Invisibility Cloak. “You need to be quick. The train will be leaving in a few minutes.”
“It’s Draco. I need to know if he’s really dead. Did he speak to you before he....”
“Jumped from the Astronomy Tower?” He took a breath. “The Dark Lord asked me to find out what the child would be. That was the last time I saw Draco alive.”
“But did you see his body?” The pressure on Severus’ back increased.
“Of course I did.” He paused as a thought drifted into his mind. Had he? He frowned, trying to picture in his mind the moment he’d seen the broken body on the ground, but instead the image was hazy and grey, like a half-forgotten dream. Like a false memory.
“Of course I did,” he repeated, more to convince himself than for Potter’s benefit.
“I saw Draco at the beginning of July and we were both so happy about the baby. I didn’t want him to go back to Hogwarts, but he insisted so he could finish something we were planning. He was going to leave for good at the end of July.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because it’s true. Look into my mind and you’re see it’s true.” Severus felt the invisible body move around him until Potter stood in front of him, hands holding his arms close to the elbows. “You know I’ve never be any good at Occlumency. And if you still don’t believe me, then you can call over one of those Death Eaters. I won’t run away.”
Severus looked to where he knew Potter’s eyes would be and imagined he could see them. It wasn’t hard to imagine the green colour staring back at him and, as he mouthed the incantation, he was inside the colour and into memories.
The truth was there, laid out like a series of photographs each telling part of a complete story.
But if Potter was telling the truth, then where did Severus’ memories come from?
The sound of the train whistle dragged Severus from the other man’s memories.
“Promise me you’ll look for him.” The invisible voice cracked with emotion.
“I promise. Now go, Rockwood is coming over.”
The hands gripping his arms tightened momentarily and then the pressure was gone.
-*-*-
-*-*-
09 - 1st October 2002 - Prisoner
“Harry.”
He looked up from his doodling to find Hermione standing by the door and he gave her a sad smile.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.” Harry gestured absently with his quill. “And I’ve got loads of things to do.”
“Such as?”
Harry gave a bitter laugh. “Save the whole of the wizarding world without any idea of how to do it. I was relying on Draco to get me into Hogwarts and...” He pulled off his glasses and pushed a hand into his hair. “And the baby was due today.”
“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry, I’d lost track of the days.”
He rubbed at his eye. “I should have found a way of getting him out, but instead I had to let him go back one more time.”
“You can’t save everyone, Harry.”
“I can’t even save my lover and child, Hermione! What’s more important than that?”
He got angrily to his feet and stalked over to a window. Outside of Grimmauld Place life carried on as it did every day. Muggles went about their business and two people sat on a bench in the small grass area in front of the row of houses. He knew the square was being watched, waiting for someone who was privy to the Fidelius charm to make a mistake.
“The trouble is, Hermione, that I can’t get it out of my mind that he isn’t dead. It’s like,” Harry gave an exasperated sigh, “it’s like when you catch something out of the corner of your eye but when you turn to look there’s nothing there.” He rested a hand on the glass. “And then there are the dreams.”
“You haven’t mentioned anything about dreams before.”
“That’s because I think I’m going mad with them.” Harry turned to face her, leaning against the windowsill. “I’m in a room somewhere, but I don’t know where it is, and I keep calling for help out of the window. But no one knows I’m there and no one can hear me because the room has been spell-proofed. There’s a baby crying, but I can’t find it no matter how hard I search. Then everything changes and I’m in another room that looks like the Great Hall. There’s a throne at one end and everybody’s on their knees because Voldemort is sitting in the chair. The baby is still crying and I’m running around looking for it while Voldemort is going on and on about living forever and his soul never dying. Then I see the baby; it's under the throne and it’s actually Draco, but he’s a little baby not all grown up. But just as I’m going to pick him up I wake and out of the corner of my eye I’m sure there’s someone watching me.”
“And when you turn to look the person’s gone?”
Harry nodded. “I’m positive Draco’s being held prisoner. At first I thought he was still at Hogwarts, but if he was, then he’d show up on the Marauder’s Map. I’ve never known it not to work, so he has to be somewhere else. And why would Voldemort want everyone to think Draco’s dead?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione sat down at Harry’s desk.
“No.”
“What’s happened to the Order over the last six weeks?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, nothing. We’ve done hardly anything since the Prophet reported Draco’s suicide.”
“That’s not fair!” Harry folded his arms defiantly. “I’ve been trying to work out how to deal with the Horcruxes.”
“Have you? Or have you been sitting here doodling and blaming yourself?” Hermione waved the sheet of parchment at him. “I’m not blaming you or anything because I’d probably be doing the same thing. What I’m saying is that Voldemort found out Draco was going to have a baby and that you were the father. Even if he hadn’t known Draco was a spy before that, he would have put two and two together and known what was going on between you.” She put down the parchment. “So what better way to ruin all your plans then to take away your spy and then make you think Draco killed himself because of what you’d done to him.”
Harry stared at Hermione for several seconds as he tried to digest what she’d just said. He knew she was right, but it didn’t really help or get Draco back. Nor did it help in his fight against Voldemort, especially now the publicity machine had tarnished his image so thoroughly. “Okay, so what do we do?”
“We raise our gain and get back to doing what we do best - reminding people who Voldemort really is. We need to make sure people know the truth about Draco and the lies about him committing suicide.”
“And if he’s dead and it’s too late?”
“Then you take revenge in the best way possible - by getting rid of the person who took him from you. Now, let’s get back to how you’re going to destroy the last Horcrux.”
Harry pushed away from the window, crossed back to the desk and sat on the edge. “I have no idea, Hermione. I was relying on Draco being at Hogwarts and....” He stopped as he saw Ron was standing in the doorway.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt but Luna’s just returned with a copy of the Guardian.” Ron held up the newspaper. “And you know how she still reads the personal column just in case her dad sends a message.”
Harry nodded. The Order had been using the Prophet and a couple of Muggle newspapers as a way of contacting each other for ages. Percy had lost his job at the Ministry not long after Voldemort came to power and had taken a job as a reporter at the Prophet. His list of contacts was huge and it had been his suggestion to use the personal columns after seeing it in a Muggle film. “And?”
“There’s one from the Half-Blood Prince.”
“What?” Harry jumped off the desk and was at Ron’s side almost before the word was out of his mouth. 'Half-Blood Prince' had been Snape’s contact name when he’d spied for Harry and it hadn’t been used since Draco took over. Grabbing the paper, Harry scanned the page until he found the small advert.
Our New Celebrity - The Snitch is alive and well, but we don’t know where. No word on delivery yet. I am available for hire, normal terms and conditions apply - The Half-Blood Prince
“That’s Snape, isn’t it?” Ron tapped a finger on the page. “He’s going to spy for you again.”
“Oh yes,” Harry grinned at him. “And the Snitch is Draco. He’s alive, Ron. Draco’s alive!”
-*-*-
Draco wandered around the empty corridors of Malfoy Manor as best he could given that he was currently thirty-nine weeks pregnant. He’d been brought to the Manor over a month before, though he’d lost track of the exact date, and his calendar was no longer measured in days but in visits from Voldemort’s specialist nurse and healer. The nurse would berate him if she could see him now, but he didn’t care. If he stayed in his room one moment longer he’d go mad.
So he waddled the corridors of his family home, one hand almost permanently on his distended belly as if that brought him closer to the baby within. He spent hours talking to the child, telling him (Draco always thought of it as a boy ever since Harry had told him about the dot called ‘and Son’ on the Marauder’s Map) about the Malfoys and the house. He’d shown the baby all the family portraits and read him books from the library, and at night he would sit in his mother’s favourite chair and feel his son moving inside him.
But he was still a prisoner inside his own home. While the Manor knew who he was and tried to obey him, Draco could sense it struggling against more powerful wards; ones that kept him locked in the building and only let him access certain areas. Even the house-elves were nowhere to be seen; they left delicious food and clean clothes that fit his ever-increasing girth, but never allowed themselves to be seen even if he called them.
As for the nurse and the healer, both were exceptionally professional about their work, but they never answered any of his questions unless they were about the pregnancy. Now, as he stood in his mother’s sitting room staring out at the gardens that were already clothed in their autumn colours, he wondered if anyone besides these two - and of course Voldemort - knew he was alive.
And what was going to happen to him after this was over?
Draco’s hand made small circles on his stomach as he looked out of the window. If Voldemort really did plan to raise the baby as his own, then he wouldn’t want Draco around to remind everyone who the baby’s real father was. And if everyone thought he was dead, then how would they react to his sudden resurrection?
The baby kicked and Draco smiled. “Ready to come out then?” As if in reply, it kicked again. “Well, sorry but the nurse said you need another week or two.” The emotions that were always in a turmoil these days surfaced and he felt tears gather in his eyes. “You know, if anything happens to me, your real daddy will find you. Harry will know who you are and he’ll keep you safe.”
-*-*-
Part 3