Very Important Author Notes!
It came to my attention that throughout this entire story, I had forgotten that at the end of OotP, Lucius was in Azkaban. It is not, however, a stretch to think that it would be easy for Lucius to escape Azkaban, for two reasons. It is clear in OotP that serious doubts about the loyalty of the dementors exist, and therefore prisoners could leave far more easily. The second reason is that Lucius had fewer crimes that could be definitively pinned on him, and the Ministry may decide to let him out with only monitoring. And of course, we all know how good Fudge's Ministry is with criminals. (Sirius Black, anyone?) From this chapter forth, and in any new iterations of this fic, Lucius will have been out of Azkaban, and people are eager to throw him back in the pokey.
Also, a detail-oriented reviewer (Catianna Granger) picked out a spell that I should have cast in the previous chapter. There's something just for you here!
If you're reading Drunk please don't worry, I am going to finish it, and don't get too worked up about the gross girls in it. Just so's you know, they have NOTHING to do with the story other than to show the debauchery of Draco's life.
And finally, merci millefois (literally, mercy buckets…ha ha!) to my stalwart beta where_is_truth and to my new beta Rainpuddle13 who fix my "that" and comma problems. Ladies, you are simply wonderful. Go troika!
Although he was comfortably and rather negligently sprawled in a leather chair in a somewhat disused conference room in Hogwarts, Draco was able to fully convey his displeasure as the meeting at hand continued.
"Well, of course Harry has to be there, I mean, he is the only one who can defeat Voldemort," Granger was saying. Draco rolled his eyes; the most brilliant witch in this century was taking up precious time by stating what everyone knew and did not need to hear again.
"Bloody hell, 'Mione, the way you talk you'd think Harry forgets he's The Boy Who Lived," the Weasel sighed. Draco suppressed a smirk; for once, Weasley had said something halfway amusing.
"I'm sure that Harry knows his role," Dumbledore cut in gently. "We are not making any headway in this line of reasoning. Professor Snape, have you been informed of any plans other than the supposed Death Eater targets?"
"No, Headmaster, I have not. And I daresay Mr. Malfoy has not either…" Snape said, trailing off as he looked to Draco for confirmation. Draco shook his head. His father had been peculiar as of late, but it was something he could neither put a finger on nor question Lucius about. Snape nodded affirmatively.
"Headmaster, I propose we postpone this meeting until Mr. Malfoy and I can come up with something more substantial on which to begin forming these plans. Because neither of us has been assigned a target, finding out the particulars may be time consuming. I suggest that we continue our tightened security and wait."
"And I suppose you'll just wait until you're a target and die," Tonks said darkly from a far corner of the room. "We need Aurors to step in immediately and start doing more surveillance and monitoring activities."
"Perfect idea, Nymphadora," Snape said, knowing she detested her full name. "Put yourself in the open, tailing a Death Eater and see how long it takes you to be blasted into owl treats. Has it escaped your mind that these people are Death Eaters? Have you forgotten that these people and their leader have evaded capture for nearly twenty years? Honestly, Miss Tonks!"
Tonks' face colored and she appeared to be ready to jump at Snape's throat, but the nearly impassive Kingsley Shacklebolt merely grasped her forearm and muttered something to her.
Draco sat and watched these proceedings with a mixture of detached amusement. It was obvious he was inducted only because he could provide information; there was no way he could be expected to work with these twits. He was brooding when Mad-Eye Moody said something Draco nearly missed.
"We'll have to drag that Lucius Malfoy out in the open," Moody stated clearly, his rolling eye focused directly on Draco. Everyone in the room swiveled in their seats to gaze upon the lithe blond who was draped across his chair. Feeling the heat of their stares, Draco immediately sat up straight and faced that creepy bugger Moody square in his eye-eyes, whatever.
"Are you testing me, Moody?" Draco asked dangerously. "Because if you're baiting me, it won't work. Do you realize what I'm doing? I'm helping you put my own father back in Azkaban. At great risk to my own life, I might add. So spare me your scare tactics, and just do what you have to do, and I'll do what I'm asked to do, okay? You might remember that it was your little Ministry who let him out. The only thing I ask is that you try and catch that bastard alive, because I'd like to see nothing more than him rotting in prison again, forever. Is that all?" Draco met the eyes of everyone that surrounded him, daring them to challenge him. "Because I'm leaving."
Draco pulled himself to his full height and stalked out.
Erupting murmurs spread over the room, but Moody and Dumbledore shared a glance over the heads of those assembled. Draco was doing fine. He would not betray them.
***
Draco headed directly from his rooms to see if there was a carriage available for him to take to Hogsmeade. He planned to Apparate directly to the Ministry, drop off his reports and take his Weasley jumper and whatever it was-DC player-and go to a Muggle pub by himself. Hermione had taken him to several she knew in Muggle London, and the whole atmosphere was interesting.
Two hours later he sat in the front window of the Rose and Crown, eating fish and chips and drinking some pale ale he had grown fond of on his and Hermione's excursions. She'd persuaded him to go to a Muggle clothier, a frightfully busy but exciting place called Harrods, where he purchased surprisingly comfortable pants called blue jeans, jumpers and shoes that Hermione said were named "trainers." Because he'd gotten so many pounds sterling with his Galleons, she forced him to buy a long black wool winter trench coat-
"Granger, really, I can just use a warming spell," he'd said. She'd given him that special glare that only a woman can and replied witheringly.
"Sure, Malfoy, prance around in thin clothes in the London winter. People will either think you're poor or stupid. Take your pick…"-
and all the other winter accessories that went with it. Draco still took pride that even in his Muggle clothes, he still looked handsome. That much was evidenced by the barmaids who flirted with him and the covert gawks he got on the street. Nothing like a bit of admiration to bolster one's self-confidence.
So he sat there, secretly enjoying the plain fare and listening to an American singer blast his ears. He was pleasantly warm in his Weasley jumper (no warming charm required) and reflected upon the day's events.
He was positive Ginny would agree with his thoughts and actions. Though he was committed to putting away his father, it wasn't as if it was going to be easy. Sure, he hated Lucius with all his might, but it couldn't change the fact that the man was his father. Draco shook his head ruminatively. They all thought him so cold and unemotional; maybe they should have had a peek in his bedchamber the other night. He allowed himself a small smile.
He couldn't even begin to believe that he'd been satisfied before she came along. Although he was sometimes forced to take care of himself, there was no shortage of events to replay in his mind that included her. A personal favorite--though it had been borne of evil, unsettling thoughts--continued to be flashing back upon their encounter in his father's room above The Three Broomsticks. Gods, how hot and sultry she'd been. The taste of her, to watch her face almost constantly in the contortions of passion, had been the end of him. Had she not made her revelation, he thought he'd have probably taken her right there on the cold floor. But their actual coupling had been made that much sweeter by all that had happened in the meantime.
As of late, he had been spending an inordinate amount of time thinking of her and all that being with her entailed. Her bubbly smile had been splashed against his mind and he made no effort to purge it. He wondered what she felt for him. Was it love? Probably not. A deep attachment, sure, on his part, and probably a companionable affection from her. He imagined she was thinking about rich, beautiful babies with red hair waving to him from the front steps of Malfoy Manor as he Apparated off to work at the Ministry.
Of course, she'd not intimated this in the least. He chided himself for trying to get mixed up in the thoughts and wants of the female mind. Perhaps she felt the same way, a deep attachment that neither was ready to let go of yet. Much as he hated to admit it, he was forced to: she was the only solid thing in his life right now; he could not afford to lose her.
***
The abandoned shack in Godric's Hollow brought back bitter memories for Voldemort. As his slightly stronger, more visible form sat in a ragged chair, he recalled failing those many years before by allowing a helpless baby to bring him to his feet. How he slavered over endless scenes of torturing Harry Potter and his little band of cohorts. They would all meet the same sticky end as the perfect elder Potters. He relished the thought of lining them up in a row somewhere, and making those at the end watch those ahead of them screaming, falling to the floor and dying slowly.
But these fantasies were always with him and it was time to turn his attention back to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had long been an excellent minion, though he did sometimes have a propensity for bungling operations. The Chamber of Secrets incident came foremost to his mind. Though now, Draco was old enough to be one of them, Lucius was of greater importance. Voldemort had long thought of taking over the boy's strong, handsome body with his own being. How he and his followers would flourish! Perhaps this was what Lucius was proposing. The Dark Lord sighed. He honestly had to pay more attention to the nattering Lucius.
"Repeat yourself," Voldemort said coldly. Lucius was aghast…hadn't the Dark Lord heard a word he was saying?
"I was saying, my lord, that I wish a change in assignment." Voldemort laughed, a high, thin sound that never failed to jar Lucius' mind.
"A change, Lucius? Is this assignment perhaps too hard for you to wrap your feeble mind around?" No matter how important Lucius was, Voldemort could not pass up the opportunity to belittle him.
Lucius sat straighter in the much smaller chair across from his leader, squaring his shoulders.
"Of course not, my lord. I have merely been thinking that by changing my assignment, I could better serve our cause."
Voldemort appeared to think this over.
"Continue, Lucius, before I grow tired of you." Hurriedly, Lucius nodded and cast his eyes down as would a supplicant.
"As you recall, my lord, you gave me Ronald Weasley as my preliminary assignment."
"Of course I recall, you twit, get on with it!" Voldemort thundered, his form becoming wispier.
"Well, I believe you made a good choice in targets, my lord, for the young Weasley is certainly close to Potter, and his death would be an important victory for us."
"Of course I chose well!" Voldemort shrieked shrewishly, making Lucius blink owlishly. "Do you think I am that daft, to choose a meaningless target? Taking out Weasley is the first step in infiltrating the ridiculous little troika that defeats my plans!"
"Of course, my lord. I did not wish you to presume otherwise. But as of late, it has come to my attention that perhaps you would be better served if I instead exchanged my Weasley target for finding you a body to inhabit," Lucius said tentatively.
"And what, dear Lucius, makes you think I should change my mind?"
"My lord, there is a person, young and strong, who is perhaps the unwitting key to our success. This person has been led to you once and was devoted, but has gone astray."
"Lucius, are you offering your son as my vessel? Do not tease me with that, because you know it has long been on my mind."
Lucius' eyes burned brightly, and the shadow of a smile brushed over his glacial features.
"My lord, if you will let me explain," Lucius began smoothly.
***
Time wore on for Draco, but was also in increasingly short supply. He had successfully learned to fight the nausea that Voldemort inspired, and now he was continuing his Occlumency and Legilimency training.
Dumbledore, from time to time, relieved Snape of his teaching duties; in these instances, Draco was forced to search the cavernous recesses of the headmaster's mind and in turn close off his own nearly constant stream of jumbled thoughts.
It came as no shock when Dumbledore suggested more training, specifically, fighting the Imperius and Cruciatus curses. This job again fell to Snape, who was unfortunately infinitely more familiar in casting the heinous spells.
Draco would report to Snape on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays for his resistance training.
Draco had not been more nervous in his life. Knowing it was silly and weak to worry for his own safety, he tried to force the nagging thoughts from his mind. He stood in the middle of Professor Snape's classroom, waiting for the man himself to emerge from the potions storeroom. With a wave of his wand, Draco stacked some of the desks and moved them to the side so that he and Professor Snape would have ample room to work.
Snape entered silently and was at his desk before Draco noticed him.
"That is your first lesson, Mr. Malfoy. Death Eaters are cunning, silent cowards. They will steal behind you and aim their curse at your back. Keep your back to a wall. If you are quick enough to dodge their curse, standing against a solid object will increase your chances of the spell being deflected back towards the caster."
Draco nodded mutely, embarrassed at having been caught unawares.
Snape came round his desk and faced Draco, arms crossed.
"You do realize, Mr. Malfoy, that these two curses I am going to teach you to resist involve a great deal of pain and a great deal of mental power. Are you quite ready for me to begin this? Because as far as the Cruciatus curse is concerned, I will have to silence these chambers. You will scream like a little girl when you are first hit, even with low levels. But not to worry, everyone does that their first few times." Snape delivered this line with relish, and was obviously reliving some sort of amusing memory. The professor's usually dour mouth quirked at the edges and Draco swallowed reflexively.
"Could, well, perhaps we could start with the Imperius?" Draco inquired, hating the plaintive note in his voice. Snape nodded, his face now impassive.
"Very well, then. The levels of Imperius and Cruciatus are affected by the will of the caster and the precise tone of voice used. As you see here," Snape said, unexpectedly flicking his wand towards Draco, "Imperio. Now, I said that rather lazily, didn't I, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco felt heavy, as if his limbs were disobeying him. He blinked and gave Snape a wide-eyed stare and nodded his head as if an invisible hand were guiding it.
"That's good, Mr. Malfoy, but I'd like to hear you say it."
"You said that rather lazily Professor Snape," Draco said in a flat monotone, barely recognizing his own voice, unable to really concentrate on what he was being told to do.
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, this is the lowest level of the curse I can cast on you. I wish for you to sit and to try and collect your thoughts."
Draco plopped to the stone floor obediently and propped his chin on his fist. Thoughts, now, those were hard to lasso. Very slowly, he began to register that Snape had instructed him to do these things and that he must try very hard to resist this force. Perhaps think of something pleasant, because surely this cursing business was unpleasant.
He decided to stand, though somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Snape telling him that maybe he should sit back down. Draco shook his head negatively, feeling his brain slosh quite distinctly. He began to amble aimlessly around the room, peering at cabinets around the room that held each Potions class's projects. He saw Ginny's name on one of the drawers for the Advanced Potions course.
Ginny! Now that was pleasant, certainly. And he stopped there, thinking intently, trying to summon a particular thought, a particular scene.
There it was! Ginny on her knees in front of him as he took her from behind. He felt blood rushing through his veins and slowly became more aware of his surroundings, the oppressive force of Snape's will being thrown off incrementally. If only he could continue to fixate on that lovely moment, her pink flesh weeping-
"Finite incantatem! Mr. Malfoy! Will you please keep your libido in check? Honestly, I should dock her points for questionable taste."
Released from the spell, Draco stood shell-shocked. Oh, bloody fucking Merlin! He cursed Snape for his blasted abilities and tried to remain a cool composure.
"Forgive me, Professor."
Snape's lips twisted into a sneer as he spoke.
"You'd do well to shut your mind off every time you return to Malfoy Manor, especially if you've got your little trysts running amok in that head of yours. One glimpse of red hair and you'll have no time to fend off Avada. That's all. We're done for today."
***
Feverishly, Ginny checked the Baby Magical Beasts calendar she'd been given by Bill for Christmas. Underneath the adorable February baby puffskein were dates of quizzes, exams, and other miscellaneous appointments of note. Sitting squarely in the center, sometime around the 13th, a red triangle was drawn around the date.
It seemed she'd missed this appointment.
It was the 16th and her monthly meeting with menses hadn't come yet.
***
A slender hand pulled him with surprising strength into an alcove in the dungeons.
"What the-" Draco snarled before his mouth was covered with a delicately skinned hand.
"Ginny! What are you doing here? I know it's been awhile, but do you really want to have a quickie here?"
"Oh, you!" she slapped him once and seemed to take perverse pleasure in watching him bite back a growl.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" he snarled, rubbing his cheek and crowding her farther into the small space.
"That's to get your mind off sex for a minute! We have a huge problem."
Death Eaters? His father? Molly Weasley found out they'd shagged?
"What's that?"
"I'm late on my cycle." He paled, visibly, and sagged, both horrified and relieved.
"Is that it?" he asked, wiping sudden beads of sweat from his brow.
"Is that it? Is that bloody fucking it? I could be pregnant, you toad! The last time we had a bit of how's-your-father neither of us remembered the contraceptive charm!"
"How late are you?" he asked, trying to be reasonable, but unsuccessful at controlling the suddenly higher pitch his voice decided to take on.
"Three days," she said, still glaring at him. "I've always been very regular." She paused, letting him digest this, trying to convey her desperation.
"What are we going to do if I am?" she whimpered, diving into his warmth, arms locked around him.
What would they do? How would they do it? And, most importantly, how could he keep her safe? And amazingly, more fluidly than he would have liked, came his answer.
"Of course, you would graduate," he said. "Then, I would like for you to stay with your parents until the baby is born, because I don't want you mixed up in this war business. And after it was over and it was safe, you'd come live with me and we would take care of our child."
She glanced at him curiously…it seemed like he had a pretty smooth answer. And oddly enough she was disinclined to argue with his logic.
"Do you honestly mean that?" she asked in a small voice. He responded by hugging her tightly to him.
"I would never let anything happen to you or our child."
***
Draco was leaving Snape's classroom late Thursday evening when a flying mass of Weasley launched herself at him.
"Draco, Draco!" she trilled. He regarded her suspiciously. This could go two ways. "Let's go to your quarters!"
He nodded and she bounced down the corridor after him, positively glowing.
She had to be pregnant. There was nothing else she could be this excited over. Besides, she was practically born into mothering.
He said the password for his rooms and Ginny followed him in, attacking him with a forceful kiss. He returned the kiss for a scant few seconds, then pushed her away.
"Okay. What is going on?" he asked, heart alternately sinking and rising.
"I'm not pregnant!" she yelled happily. Draco frowned, but only for a moment. While he was relived that she was not with child, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a son of his own.
"I'm glad," he said, smiling at her. She sat in his lap, sifting her hands through his hair.
"It was just a false alarm, I think, but from now on we need to take more precautions than just the contraceptive charm. I can brew myself a birth control potion, because the ingredients aren't so conspicuous that they'd be missed," she said, smiling triumphantly.
Draco shook his head emphatically.
"No way. If anyone's going to take a birth control potion here, it's me," he said firmly. "I'm better at potions, and besides, I am infinitely more level-headed than you." Draco thought that since there was no use in hiding from Snape his relationship with Ginny, that the potions master would allow him to use the rarer ingredients for male birth control potion without problem.
"More level-headed? Really? You think so? You didn't seem so level headed that night when you were slapping my arse!"
Draco blushed furiously.
Some time later, after a languorous snogging session, a decision was made that both would take the potion.