Unofficial Portkey Archive

Blue-Eyed Angel

Chapter Twenty-nine

Draco lay curled up in his bed and stirred slowly, woken by his internal clock that was set so early. He seemed confused at first whom he was holding in his arms, someone much too large and spooned too tightly to be his small daughter who often climbed into bed with him during the night. He smiled at the reorganization after only a moment, as the scent of strawberries wafted from the wild red hair that spread across his pillow and tickled his face.

Ginny had spent the night, for the first time!

Draco had never gone to sleep simply holding a woman so tenderly in his arms and woken to find her still there with him but for Ginny. They had held each other close that cold night thirteen years ago, and he held her again, now, only this time it wasn't because their body heat was all that kept them alive. He held her now because he lover her, and she loved him. It was a very important thing to him to have been able to share, at least once in his life, such a simple thing that so many took for granted like sleeping in a bed beside the one he loved. He was relieved to have experienced it at least once in his life.

Ginny was in his night shirt, and he was in the slacks, and they spooned so perfectly, it was enough to make Draco want to roll over and go back to sleep.

That is when his alarm clock went off.

Draco sighed and rolled over -his right arm trapped under Ginny- to reach and swat the annoying thing into silence, the stretch causing his ribs to scream in their ache. Ginny stirred at the sound, and Draco's movement, and took a deep breath through her nose, stretching her legs straight and spreading her toes so that they peeked out from under the bottom edge of the blanket, little red nails like candies decorating them.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, groggy and barely awake.

"Four," he said softly, leaning down to say it in her ear, his breath seeping into her hair near her neck, causing her to shiver and snuggle her shoulders and back closer to him.

"What are you about, setting the alarm so early?" she complained, ready to go right back to sleep.

"I have to go to work."

"You can't be serious, you collapsed yesterday, and everything is a mess there," she said, a little more awake now, but barely.

"Mess or not, faint or not, I have to earn my paycheck or I won't be able to afford groceries this week," he said, Ginny already aware of how bare his cupboards were.

"Like you eat that much anyways," she mumbled, drifting asleep.

"Well, with you deciding to fatten me up I will have to, meaning I need the money more than ever," he said, kissing her neck and pulling his arm free.

He left Ginny to sleep as he showered, dressed, and even ate. Just some jam on toast with a spot of coffee to make sure he was good and tweaked, but it was something. He gave Clarissa a kiss good-bye, as usual, and stopped by to climb on top of Ginny, hands and knees on either side of her, and give her a kiss on the nose, before heading out.

It was going to be a long day.

Indeed, it was a long day. Draco got to work, was clocked in, and was set to task for the first time before Mr. Coderdale was even there. Draco just wanted to work, get through the day, and get home, but that was not a possibility. Even if he got through all he had to do in a timely manner, he would still have to go out with Sebastian after work and do dastardly, bastardly, things. Clarissa was under Ginny's care, and he and Ginny were taking a "break". That alone was enough to make his day shit, but having a few dozen Ministry Aurors burst into the hall and hold him at wand point certainly topped even that and the day off nicely.

"Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest," the man before him, the only one not holding a wand to him, announced diplomatically. Draco had stood from his desk upon their entering, leaning on his cane, and was now glaring at Réamann who walked in behind everyone, looking a little bashful but angry at the same time.

"I demand to know what he is being charged with, Summerset," Tonks fumed, walking into the hall then too, her pace quick, her pointed face hardened in her anger. She stormed in to stand in front of the man, putting herself between him and Draco but up in the man's face, Draco still back by his desk.

"He is being taken in for questioning, pertaining to the murders of…" Summerset started to say but Draco interrupted him, speaking for the first time since he was burst in on.

"Taken in? You can't mean…not Azkaban," he said, looking panicky towards his cousin that turned slowly to give him a comforting look before rounding on the other Auror again.

"You have no right to arrest or even detain him," she fumed.

"We have his hair at a crime scene, and testimony from Rossiter here-"

"That is all hearsay and circumstantial," Tonks snapped, raising her voice. She was such a light and bubbly person normally, with her short spiking hair of cotton candy blue and pink, that it seemed out of place for her to be so domineering and authoritative. She was the head Auror on the case, however, and she didn't get that position by being a pushover.

"His past is hard to ignore, and with no one else to even investigate in this case, we have to bring him in, for the public's own peace of mind," he said. Tonks look furious and Draco looked pale.

"NO, you can't send me to Azkaban, not just so as to look like you are making some sort of progress with the case!" Draco shouted, backing up some and Aurors on all sides of him stepping forward a little, closing in, wands still raised.

"Mr. Malfoy, your reputation is quite reprehensible, and your history does not play into your favor. We have no choice," Summerset said, Draco looking wild-eyed and panicked. Summerset was a silver haired but otherwise youthful looking man, with a surprisingly black mustache. He was still the only one in the room that didn't have a wand pointed at Draco, other than Tonks who was defending him, and Réamann who was refusing to look at him.

"I can't believe you would turn me over to them when you have no evidence, after all I did to help you!" Draco barked, his wounded harshness causing Réamann to flinch.

"Draco," Tonks said, turning to him, able to see the panic in her cousin's pale and bruised eyes before speaking to the whole room. "Everyone, lower your wands and follow goddamn procedure," she ordered, angry that her people would hold Draco at wand point when such a thing is not allowed, not when dealing with someone that didn't have a wand themselves. Everyone, one by one, slowly lowered their wands but not going as far at to put them away, not taking their eyes off of the werewolf. Tonks walked right up to Draco and talked to him softly.

"Dre, I'm sorry for this, they are trying to remove me off the case, saying that you being the primary suspect is too much of a conflict of interest, and that my personal relationship would interfere with me remaining unbiased in this," she said, practically whispering, moving a little to the right and left to stay in front of Draco's shifting eyes. "I have told them before, with the hair and everything, that you had nothing to do with this, but I can't stop them now, not with the statements Réamann has made," she said.

"I didn't do anything," he attempted, his voice quivering.

"I know," she said sadly.

"Mrs. Lupin, your presence down here is not appropriate," Summerset said, stepping forward a little.

"I am still heading this investigation. You have not forced me off yet, and as such, I will be overseeing this," she said, glaring over at the man. They were butting heads over the investigation, the problem being too many high-ranking Aurors working on one case.

"I can't go back there, no, I won't," Draco said, drawing Tonks' attention back to him.

"Draco, please, don't fight me on this. I will make sure you get the best lawyer out there, and the best representation. I will be with you through all of this, you won't be alone."

"No, no," he started repeating, his heart beating so fast that is actually became a little painful and uneven.

"Draco, don't resist, please, it will only make you seem guilty. Come with me, and I will make sure you are shown to be innocent, you could be out of there in a week," she said, grabbing his wrist, looking so apologetic, knowing just how scared Draco was of that place.

Draco pulled his arm away and backed up. "No, I won't go back there, I didn't do anything. This is just Réamann trying to get even with me because I stole his bint," he said, shaking, struggling to breathe now too.

"Draco, don't do this," Tonks warned a little more forcefully now, being firm as a means of protecting her baby cousin. She knew he was innocent, she had no doubt of it, but she had to be rigid so that he would not do something stupid and convey this idea of guilt in his rashness.

Draco just shook his head. He saw Sebastian in the room, and locked eyes with him for a meaningful moment. Réamann was looking awkward but firm in his commitment to this. He had made up his mind to talk to the Aurors on the case; he was not second-guessing that now, not even with that look Draco was giving him.

"Draco, no!" Tonks yelled at him as he backed up more, looking ready to run. The three Aurors to his back went to grab him but Draco spun and swung his cane, knocking them all down with the superior strength he could tap.

Draco, using such strength he would not have possessed as a man, instigated the rest of the witches and wizards in the room to draw their wands again, Draco clearly using some kind of werewolf ability, something strictly prohibited by the Ministry.

"Put your wands down, that's an order! Draco, calm down…" Tonks shouted, Draco turning on her, his cane up in his hands, his eyes lost to that of the beast that dwelled within him.

Draco was not about to go back to Azkaban. Even with all Tonks had promised him, he just could not go back there, not for this, now for a week, a day, a minute!

Draco blinked his inhuman eyes and ducked down low to rush across the room faster than what seemed human. His limp was gone, his ache suppressed when his beast was not. Draco cut across the room, knocking into several of the Aurors, making sure to take Réamann down with a harsh swing on his cane that cut him across the neck where his shoulder met. It was painful, probably breaking Réamann's collarbone, and Draco meant it to be.

Draco was near the door when spells were cast in his direction. Tonks was screaming at the other superior Auror, Summerset, and Coderdale (who had been blocked from the scene by a few Aurors) was shouting for Draco, all the while Sebastian fell back, letting Draco go, knowing where Draco was heading.

Running down the earthy hall, Draco didn't stop, or slow, not even when his clothing tore away, or his boots flopped around and were kicked off because his feet were no longer human shaped. He raced up the stairs faster than anyone bipedal could hope to, and hopped onto one of the lone, rickety lifts.

Paws and claws did not offer the best traction once on the smooth hardwood floors of the Atrium. Witches and wizards screamed and dove out of the way upon seeing the large white wolf slide into view on its long thin legs and race down the hall, claws clicking on the hard floor, fur ruffling, tail swishing. No one dared raise a wand to stop him, no one knowing who it was but knowing not to mess with a werewolf, regardless. Never mind that this was not the full moon and therefore it being a Greater wolf before them. Lesser or Greater, it was all the same when it came to a simple scratch welcoming you into their ranks.

Draco was well ahead of the Aurors that were following after him, but he was now trapped with only two options, Floo, or the Muggle street. Floo required him being able to speak, something he struggled with while a beast, and the Muggle street was full of, well, Muggles. As a large white wolf, he would stick out quite dramatically. For endangering Muggles Draco would only be in more trouble, and this time actually guilty. He paced for a moment, up the length of the Atrium and back, beastly-mind struggling to not panic and use reason.

There was a loud commotion by the lifts, not caused by those in the Atrium panicking, and Draco made a fast decision. He stopped, sliding still, yanked a man out of a fireplace that was about to Floo away, and took the trip instead; unsure of where he would come out, but knowing that anyplace was better than Azkaban or in that Atrium at the moment.

Aurors burst into the Atrium, wands drawn, knowing Draco had come this way by the looks of panic on everyone's faces. Without a word when asked, the Desk Witch pointed at the now empty fireplace where emerald flames were dying down in a twirl. The wizard that was sitting on the floor, looking frozen in terror, was scooped up and shaken, asked where he had intended on going before Draco had commandeered his Floo. The man, unable to do more than stammer, was released to fall on the ground and be tended to by lesser Aurors while Summerset rounded on Tonks.

"This is all YOUR fault," he accused while bellowing.

"My fault? Who was it that thought it was a good idea to approach him like this, Summerset?" she snapped back, her hair now as red in her rage, eyes piercing and harsh rather that large, warm, and welcoming as she typically kept them.

Draco emerged from a fire place, dingy and grey from soot. He stood on his four spindly legs; the hind ones bent slightly due to their length, and shook himself out like any dog, soot becoming a thick dust in the air as he freed it from his full white coat. He huffed a little sneeze at the dust that tickled his damp black nose and blinked. Sitting at a kitchen table, frozen with a spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes wide, a little boy in a highchair stared. His oatmeal dropped off his spoon and he did not seem to realize as he stayed frozen in that position. Draco looked around and realized he was in a home, a Wizarding home no doubt, entering through the kitchen.

"Steven, is that you? Did you pick up the milk on the way home like I owled…?" a woman asked as she walked into the room but then too froze upon seeing the werewolf standing there.

The woman screamed, high-pitched and long, and Draco flattened his ears, tail tucking between his legs as he backed up some to nearly be back in the fireplace again. The woman grabbed her son, a boy probably two years old, and pulled him out of his highchair and knocking it over to crash into the table and then the floor in the process. The boy made no sound but just stared, turning his head regardless of whatever direction his mother turned, so as to be looking at the white beast.

"Go away! Go away! Leave my son alone you beast!" she screamed. Draco's ears drooped a little bit more but then lowered his head and trotted out of the room quickly to leave the woman curled up in the corner protectively of her son as she screamed wordlessly the whole time. Draco ran into the living room, looked around, and ran out the front door, cautious of what he would find. He found himself in a sort of rural-suburban area, probably Muggle. Looking around, Draco retreated back into the house and up the stairs that were to his back. The woman, in the kitchen, could hear Draco's long claws click on the wood floors as he moved above her and she whimpered and sobbed now, her son in her arms, still silent.

Draco pushed a door open by wiggling his snout into the gap like any dog, and stepped in. He was in the master bedroom and there he sat to try and calm himself down and collect his thoughts. He lied down and placed his head on his paws, closing his eyes to try and focus himself, to breathe slowly, to let his muscles become less tense. He imagined himself like a flower closing rather than blooming, becoming smaller and enclosed for the night. It was a mental practice he did that allowed him to manage a shift back.

Shaking and nude, exhausted and disoriented, Draco came to form curled up on the floor with only a few claw marks in the wood to show for it. He pushed himself up on his hands and knees and panted there for a moment, sweat dripping to the floor from the tip of his nose, his hair stringing and tangled, body shaking to the point where his arms gave out under him and he tipped over to close his eyes and wait for the room to stop spinning.

He knew he could not linger, regardless of how weak he had just made himself.

Already having wasted enough time, Draco stood with much assistance from the bed, walked along the wall so as to lean on it for support, and opened the wardrobe across the room. He gathered up the man's clothing that was far too large for him and pulled it on quickly. The pants were much too large so suspenders held them up, and the shirt looked like a woman's nightdress on him, but he tucked it in and pulled a coat on over it. No shoes he found would fit, the husband's clodhoppers too large for even his long-toed feet, and the wife's running-shoes too small to even humor an attempt. He would go barefoot, not something he hadn't grown accustomed to in Azkaban, but something he did not enjoy either given that this was January.

Draco moved down the stairs quickly, still with no ache. He was not fully shifted back, so his ache had not returned. His eyes were still that of a blue-eyed wolf, his hands claw-like and curled, his ears tapered into elegant points, teeth sharp. He would stand out in a human world, but not as much as he would have as a wolf, and he could not manage a full transformation and then a change-back so quickly anyways. It depleted resources he just did not have

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"Is Draco here?" Sebastian asked, standing on the front porch of a Muggle man's home in Bloomsbury.

The man looked at Sebastian with weary eyes, not knowing him and not trusting him.

"I know Draco, I work with him, and he asked me to meet him here," Sebastian explained, not going as far to claim that he was friends with Draco. Sebastian, in that moment of eye contact Draco had made with him in the Hall of Records, was told where to find Draco. Draco had trusted him, and Sebastian had been tempted to tip off the Ministry as to where Draco was headed to serve him right, but he needed Draco, so he showed up there, alone.

The man looked at Sebastian for another long moment before nodding and stepping backwards to silently invite Sebastian in out of the cold. He closed the door quickly and turned.

"It's alright, Angle, you can come out," he called, Draco peering around the edge of a half-wall that divided the living room and the dining room, to look at Sebastian warily with only one eye, like he was shy, or hiding.

"There you are. Created quite a scene at the Ministry," he said with a laugh that was none-too-friendly.

"Angel, who is this man?"

"I work with him," Draco whispered, his voice so raw it was hoarse.

"Angel?" Sebastian asked, his voice amused.

"Shut-up," Draco sighed, clearly not wanting to talk much but doing so anyways. "Don't worry, Derrick, I really did ask Sebastian to meet me here."

"How did you two come to know each other?" Sebastian asked, looking at the Muggle man and the werewolf in the oversized clothing and not seeing how they could have crossed paths.

"I helped Angel out years and years ago when he was young," Derrick said simply, curtly, seemingly not trusting Sebastian. Draco liked Derrick because he had a good wit about him and a strong sense of character. He didn't trust Sebastian, and that was a good thing, because Sebastian was a bad man and someone no one could or should trust.

"Well, I think your little plan is screwed now, Draco," Sebastian said, a little anger now seeping into his voice as he crossed his arms. "You are going to go to Azkaban for sure, and I am not about to let you drag me down with you."

"It would serve you right," Draco barked, his raw voice sounding, literally, like a bark.

"Angel, what's going on? What trouble have you found yourself in now?" Derrick asked, looking at Draco, his eyes soft when his tone was not. He was a father of a son close to Draco's age, and he talked to Draco as though he was a son of his own.

"Nothing," Draco muttered.

"What is this about Azkaban then? I thought you were out of there, and on the straight and narrow. What are you up to? Who is this man?"

"Mind your own damn business, old man," Sebastian drawled.

"This is my house, and my Angel. Get out if you are going to stand here and…"

"It's awright, Derrick, Sebastian is just an arsehole to everyone." Draco interrupted. "Sebastian, mind yourself or I will drag you down with me, out of spite, and for the satisfaction," he warned, looking at the other man with his darkened and sore eyes.

"Well, what are we going to do? No one will believe you innocent now, so you would be my perfect scapegoat again, but you won't allow me to use you. What will you have me do instead?"

"Réamann," Draco rasped.

"Excuse me?"

"Réamann," Draco repeated.

"No, I heard you, but you are not making any sense. What about Réamann? I'm not about to do him, that's disgusting," he said. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

"We will use him as the scapegoat," he explained, still hiding behind the wall partially.

"Réamann Rossiter? Are you ment-" he started to say but Draco looked murderous and he cut himself short. "I mean, I don't see how you can figure him."

"As guilty as I look now, my reluctance towards going back to Azkaban is understandable, so Réamann actually managed to make himself look as guilty as I in this situation by fingering me in the first place," he whispered, Sebastian looking at him but unable to understand completely.

"I don't follow," he admitted as Derrick looked on and listened intently.

"Réamann accused me two days after it went public that his girlfriend and I were fooling around. It wouldn't take much to spin this all around as just Réamann trying to get back at me for wronging him and covering his own arse since I already destroyed any evidence he could have used against me. The Ministry knows, or will find out, that I had been helping to solve the case, and I can attest to that fact under Veritaserum. Creating false memories in Réamann wouldn't be hard, and I am pretty sure we can work him into the timeframe of each of the attacks. Really, the lout is perfect," Draco concluded, swallowing hard.

Sebastian looked at Draco for a long moment and then laughed. He threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh, that's beautiful. I love it! We get our scapegoat, you get to serve it to Réamann, and we both make out richer than kings and scot-free!" he exclaimed.

"I have been looking into your Goblin Lord," Draco announced, disappearing behind the wall to gather the texts he had sent his owl for. Frank had shown up at Derrick's house before even he had. Draco didn't understand how owls had that unrivaled ability to know when they were needed, but he appreciated it all the same.

Derrick appeared beside Draco and spoke to him in harsh whispers.

"Angel, what are you up to? Who is this man, what attacks are you talking about, and who is this Réamann chap you are pinning them on?" he demanded. Draco looked over at him, already having not explained to his friend how he had wound up so battered looking, not acknowledging the man's questions about Draco's recent weight loss, or why he had shown up out of breath, panicked, and beastie looking. "Who is this woman you are fooling around with? You have not mentioned her to me and I honestly would have thought better of you," he said disappointedly and Draco sighed.

"Please, don't reprimand me. I'm not a child, and I'm not your child," he said slowly.

"What are you up to? Tell me."

"Sebastian is a man, a wizard, that is attacking and killing people…Muggles…in Manchester," he explained softly. Derrick gaped at him.

"He is the one behind those awful attacks and murders?" he gasped, having heard about them on the news for weeks.

"I have had nothing to do with any harm that has befallen those Muggles, but Sebastian tried to pin it all on me. I blackmailed him in response to save myself, but the man I had been working with -at the Ministry of Magic- Réamann Rossiter, has gone to the Aurors -the wizards in charge of this investigation- and tried to pin it all on me based on the lies Sebastian had already told him previously, Réamann just angry that his girlfriend left him to be with me," Draco explained, the whole situation even more complex than that but his voice unable to withstand a longer explanation. Shifting was hard on him all around, and for some reason, exceptionally hard on his vocal cords.

"Angle, you can't do this, you can't get caught up in a mess like this again," Derrick said, his concern so heavy it made his voice an almost touchable thing.

"I have no choice. Réamann fingered me in the case and the Ministry tried to arrest me. I fled and caused a scene, like Sebastian said, and now no one will doubt my guilt unless I am able to present someone who seems guiltier."

"But Réamann is an innocent man," Derrick argued.

"Technically, yes," Draco muttered.

"Angel, after what happened to you, being sent away for ten years when innocent, how can you do that to another man?"

Draco looked down, gathering books up against his chest with his still clawed hands before answering.

"I don't have any choice," he simply said, standing to walk around the half-wall to be in the living room again with Sebastian.

"You have certainly looked better, or should I say: more human?" Sebastian mocked.

"Fuck you," Draco snapped, thrusting a book at Sebastian while sitting down and setting the rest in front of him on the coffee table to open one himself to a marked page.

"When did you have time to look for these books, let alone read and mark them?" Sebastian asked, looking at the five lengthy texts and all the little green sticky notes sticking out between the pages.

"There are twenty-four usable hours in every day, thank you," he said smugly.

"Yes, but…"

"I am a master of multitasking," Draco muttered, flipping a page and pointing at the picture with a claw. "First of all, looking for a thirteenth century Goblin Lord, I found your man -er goblin- or so I would assume. `Nagnok the Noble' so it reads, but from what I understand he is about as noble as you or I and was actually rather cruel and bloody."

"What about the treasure," Sebastian demanded, snapping the book Draco had offered him closed to look grumpy.

"Have you no appreciation for History?" Draco snapped, looking up from his own book to glare. He was in a bad enough mood, for the obvious reasons and because it was a struggle to see what he was reading without his glasses, without Sebastian being a pain.

"No. Tell me about what you found out about the gold," he said, not caring that Draco seemed offended that he didn't give a hoot about the boring dribble in the books.

Draco pursed his lips together but obliged, closing his own book and reaching for another, opening to a tagged page and reading from the text with a sigh.

"The gold which amassed a `great sum' but is otherwise not explicitly named as an amount, was buried, as you know, and forgotten, thus our problem," he explained, Derrick walking into the room to watch, Sebastian interested but irritated that Draco was not simply giving him the bottom-line. Draco's throat hurt and still he was jabbering on about History.

"And?" he prompted.

"And," Draco sighed, "The reason why it was forgotten was because a mid-13^th century castle was built atop of the spot where it was buried."

"What?"

"Nagnok did not burry it as was expected, like in a hole excavated in the ground, but erected a giant mound of earth around it where Muggles then took interest, building a castle atop it that stood for nearly two-hundred years, allowing sufficient time to pass so that the gold was able to be forgotten," Draco explained.

"So you know where the gold is?" Sebastian asked, looking greedy and excited.

"Theoretically. I had to go off a lot of assumption based off of all the different sources I had to work with. I'm only assuming that the castle was built on this man-made hill, but there are countless mounds of earth in Wiltshire, including the largest which is Silbury Hill, but there are also Tan Hill, Windmill Hill, Cley Hill, Milk Hill…"

"Alright, I get the point," Sebastian snapped. "You think it is this particular hill, that is good enough for me, I trust your judgment and knowledge in this…so which hill is it?"

"In the southwestern tip of the Salisbury Plain, in the Northwestern side of Mere, you will find a hill called Castle Hill," he sighed. He was excited over all the history; he couldn't understand why Sebastian did not care.

"Salisbury Plain?"

"You know, Stonehenge, Avebury, the round barrows…they are all there," he snapped in return then. Honestly, how could anyone not know that?

"Forgive me for not having my nose buried in a book for the entirety of my life."

"I have done no such thing myself, but it is part of a national history. How can you possibly live in a country as relatively small as England, and not know of its natural and world wonders?" Draco gaped.

"It's boring," Sebastian replied, almost pouting.

"And it is about to make you a whole lot richer, so stop complaining and maybe appreciate a little," Draco grumbled, looking back down at his texts as though assuring them that he loved them at least.

"So we are off to Castle Hill?" Sebastian asked.

"In Mere, Wiltshire England," Draco nodded, mildly excited himself.

Sebastian was practically ready to go on the spot, but Draco pulled Derrick aside.

"Angel, I don't like this," he hissed.

"You were a theater major when in school, correct?" Draco whispered, far from Sebastian's range of hearing.

"Yes,"

"Good, I have need of you," Draco then went on to explain in a voice so hushed that his rawness nearly made in inaudible.

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Ginny sat with Clarissa, in the little girl's small bedroom, spending the night to look after her, just like Draco had asked. It was early evening still, but they were dressed for bed regardless, such was the standard for any "slumber party". Ginny was beside herself with worry over Draco, but that feeling had only intensified and now gnawed at her since the Ministry had showed up earlier that day. She was an internal mess, but she could not include the little girl in on the situation, could not worry her about her daddy. Ginny didn't even know what Draco was up to yet, but she knew it had something to do with that terrible case, and she knew it couldn't be good by the way he went about not telling her and the way the Aurors had harassed her for any and all information about his whereabouts.

With a little help from Clarissa, however, Ginny was able to finally smile that evening while sitting on Michelangelo's bed. The girl was bouncing on her bed with enough caged energy to put a wild pixie in a box to shame. Ginny kind of regretting giving the girl sugar at this point.

Clarissa bounced and sang about being a "Barbie Girl" as the song played loudly over the little stereo that Michelangelo liked so much, her pink and ruffled nightgown hiking up to her knees with every hop, her wildly curling hair flaring around her as though alive itself. Ginny was impressed with the little girl's voice. Clarissa demonstrated her talent while watching a movie earlier and Ginny was tremendously impressed. Draco was a good singer, when doing so on the couch with her softly. Now she was determined to get him to truly sing her something, convinced that Clarissa must have inherited her talent from him.

Thinking about Draco, however, bummed Ginny out all-over-again as the song changed.

"Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, I think they're okay. If they don't give me proper credit, I just walk away. They can beg and they can plead, but they can't see the light, that's right. `Cause the boy with the cold hard cash, is always mister right! `Cause we are…Living in a material world, and I am a material girl! You know that we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl!" Clarissa sang while hopping, but even amidst all her bouncing and music she could tell something was bothering Ginny.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" she asked, slowing in her hopping a little to face Ginny and mutely bounce in place, her feet barely leaving the mattress now, the song going on without her.

"Nothing, sweetheart," she said, smiling warmly at the little girl, wishing the girl to just continue because it really was enjoyable to watch her have so much fun.

"You're lying. Something has you upset…what is it?" she asked, once again showing that, though she was young, and small in stature and appearance, Clarissa was very intelligent and intuitive. Both she and Michelangelo had great understanding and comprehension, like they were mentally years older than their bodies. Something had aged them, something that seemed unfair that they would have had to grown up so quickly. Maybe the children just had old-souls. She wondered how old of a soul Clarissa had to have as the little girl, looking sweeter than candy, gaze at her with those silver eyes that originally belonged to her father, managing to make their otherwise cold-harshness look so warm and inviting with her concern. Draco could do the same, and seeing that in the girl made her feel that Draco was with her, somehow, and it was doubly comforting.

"Come here," Ginny said softly, holding her hand up. Clarissa hopped down off her bed and scrambled over and onto Michelangelo's to be beside her at once, Ginny wrapping her extended arm around her so that they sat side by side in a bit of a hug.

"Thank you for spending the night. I have never had a slumber party before. Nana isn't as much fun as you, she doesn't allow me to play my music, or jump on the bed, and tells me I am quite possibly `a terror beyond my father' when he was small," she said, able to add on a snooty tone while clearly paraphrasing her grandmother. Ginny pictured Clarissa just hopping on the bed and got a distinct mental image of Draco being a high-strung child in a home as clearly strict as the Malfoy Manor and had to laugh softly. He was so mellow and reserved now; she struggled to imagine him as a hyper-boy, but could recall clearly him running about the Manor with her and how much had had enjoyed himself. He had it in him, if he would ever allow anyone the chance to see it.

"You're welcome. Your father wanted you and I to spend some more time together, and I enjoy your company," she said, not mentioning that Draco had asked her to "take care" of Clarissa for him, heavily alluding to the idea that something might happen to him and Ginny would have to look after Clarissa, and Michelangelo, for an indefinite amount of time. The thought made Ginny's stomach tight with worry and dread. She wanted to contact Draco, to find out he was alright. The heavy nausea that had set in her stomach that night was enough to have her pass on her favorite comfort food, ice cream, as Clarissa had a large helping earlier herself.

"You really love my father," she said, not making it a question, surprising Ginny by how much more mature her voice was suddenly, and that it was not "daddy" it was father. Ginny looked down at Clarissa and saw the girl looking up at her, still so adorable, but realizing for the first time that she really was eleven years old, not a child really.

"He and I have only been together for two short weeks…" she tried to explain, not wanting, for some reason, to admit to the girl that she and her father were deeply but dangerously in love in such a short time. She felt the need to play it down, to convince the girl that it takes time to fall in love…that she needs to take her time, and wait, and be careful. Ginny only knew this girl for a short time, a time far shorter than she knew Draco, yet she felt this love for her that made her want to mother and protect her.

"Sometimes that's all it takes," Clarissa said, turning in Ginny's arm to now face her, her left leg pulled up and curled in front of her as her right still hung over the edge. Ginny looked at her and Clarissa continued. "Don't you believe in love at first sight?" she asked, sounding a little bit more like her usual bubbly self, but it just being a sugary coating now.

"Well, I suppose it all depends on what you are looking at," Ginny joked, shocked that she was having the same conversation with the girl as she had had with Draco but days before. Love at first sight…she believed in it, and apparently, so did Clarissa. Why did that worry her? Why did she want to gather Clarissa up and lock her in a high tower where no man could ever touch her? Because Clarissa was too pretty, and too innocent, to make for a good or safe combination.

"My father loves you," she said bluntly.

"You really think so?"

"Oh, I know so. He gets this dreamy look in his eye whenever you are mentioned, even by Nana and she doesn't say nice things," she said and Ginny slumped her shoulders a little. "He hums while he works about the house, he takes more pride in his appearance: preening himself just a little bit more, and even when he is walking with his cane, there is a bounce in his step, like he has something that would make him the envy of any who sees him," she said and Ginny nodded slowly, listening, flattered. "And Michael wouldn't hate you so much if he didn't fear just how much our father loves you," she said.

"That is why he hates me?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"He was angry at first…you know why, then mistrustful. He was willing to then give you a chance because our father read him the riot act and laid the guilt on thick…but when he and I got talking and he realized father was totally in love with you, he got angry again. I think he doesn't want a mother," she said.

"I'm not…I mean, I'm not trying to be anyone's mother….I'm just…" she stammered, looking at the little girl, wondering what she felt on the matter.

"I wouldn't mind it if you were my mother," Clarissa said softly, almost meekly, like she was afraid what Ginny's reaction to her admittance would be bad but wanting to share her feelings regardless.

"Claire," Ginny sighed.

"I have never had a mother," she said, then sounding melancholy. Ginny frowned her eyebrows at the little girl with no mother and felt her heart pull.

"Claire, sweetie…I'm sorry, that isn't fair for a little girl…but what about your nana? Wasn't she a mother to you?"

"She has always been `Nana'…she raised us, but always made it clear she is not our mother. Michael and I asked about our mother once we got old enough to wonder, once we saw other children raised by mothers, not Nanas, and wanted to know why we didn't have a mother like them, but she refused to tell us. She has never told us anything about our mother, and our father seems even more disinclined to say anything on the matter, but he gets sad rather than angry like Nana. Nana loves me, and Michael, and she raised us and treated us good, and we love her…but she is not someone I feel like I can go to, that I can confide in. She is so stern, and worrisome. I can't talk to her about dreams and fantasies and ambitions because she shoots them down as all impossibilities. I can't talk to her about Father because she says it is not my place to question him or enquire," she said, sounding sad as she pulled her knees up to her chest to hug them.

"That's not fair," Ginny said again, softly.

"I have always felt like I was missing something," she admitted. "I just…I can relate to Cinderella, and Belle, and Ariel, and all the other princesses that I love so much from my `silly little girl movies' because none of them had mothers either," she explained and Ginny blinked at the little girl. "Ever notice that? They are either orphans, or more often they are just raised by their father. I am not as immature as I come across, the baby voice and the "daddy this" and "daddy that" are things I do for his benefit because he loves and loathes it so, but I am not a little girl. I still love certain things, like my dolls, movies, and my pink ruffles, but I do like boys, I do think of things outside the realm of kittens and rainbows," she said, almost accusatory, like Ginny had not realized any of this before. Ginny shook hear head, as though to assure Clarissa that she did not think such things of the girl, just recently that night having seen a side of the girl she never had before, more than just the jumping on the bed and singing, more than the wildly curling hair and pink nightgown. She already had seen that night that Clarissa really was more than a little girl.

"I know," she continued on, still in the much more mature tone Ginny had never experience with her before this night, "it is a lot to ask of you, to be my mother, but could you be my friend, while my father and you decide just what you mean to each other?" she asked and Ginny blinked one more time at the girl before smiling. Clarissa was lonely. She felt her heart nearly break at hearing that. She knew Clarissa went to primary school with Muggles. Draco had told her all about Clarissa being off for the holiday and how many friends Clarissa had at the place, and the good marks she earned and the always wonderful comments Draco received on her. Draco was certainly proud of his little girl, but she could see that Clarissa, despite having a wonderful daddy, and friends at school, and a brother and grandmother, was still missing something, something very important. Clarissa really needed a mother, and though Ginny wasn't sure she could be exactly what Clarissa needed, Draco had asked her to be here. Did he know how Clarissa felt? Was that why he had asked her to be here tonight? Did he feel Clarissa needed a mother too?

Ginny felt sick again, but for a different reason this time. Was Draco turning her into Clarissa's mother, into his wife? She felt like she was falling into some sort of trap Draco had set, and yet, knowing that, she couldn't stop, she couldn't say no to the little girl in front of her.

"I could use a friend myself at the moment," Ginny said warmly, holding her arm out again, welcoming Clarissa close.

The little girl's eyes lit up with gratitude and affection as she released her knees and tipped forward to hug her tight.

Ginny was almost angry with Draco, for sending her to the little girl knowing what would be asked of her…but somehow, she just couldn't manage. If something -heaven forbid- should happen to Draco, she would take care of Clarissa and Michelangelo. There was no doubt in her mind. She hugged the little girl and felt such love for her; it was like she really was the girl's mother. Now, if only she could get Michelangelo to not hate her because of his father's love. Ginny had given up on Narcissa being anything less than cold at this point despite some momentary bonding over Draco's health.

Clarissa turned to allow Ginny to braid her long wild hair, the conversation turning to fall on Draco, invoking within Ginny a mixture of warm and sad feelings. She couldn't stop worrying about him.

"I grew up only ever seeing him with his beard. It was so odd to have him finally come home balled and whisker free," she divulged and Ginny chuckled softly.

"Bald?" she asked.

"He shaved his head upon his release. He said it had something to do with fleas, but I think he just wanted a fresh start…you know, free himself of the dirt and tangles as well as the memories of that place. It took me -I'm not sure about Michael- some time to get used to him without a beard, and with no -or very little- hair."

Ginny laughed. "I actually can't imagine him with a beard, that is really funny," she chuckled, Clarissa flinging herself away from her to fetch a picture. Ginny was unable to contain her laughter as she was shown a photograph. It was of Draco in his cell, leaning down, Michelangelo and Clarissa -clearly about six or seven years old- standing in front of the bars that separated them, smiling for the picture. Draco had a beard trimmed as short as he could likely manage with scissors, and long, slightly tangled hair, both white. His appearance, so thin and sickly while so hairy, would have been sad and piteous while also pathetic, if it weren't for the children there, making him smile, making his eyes glint and making the picture suddenly a beautiful thing. She wouldn't have otherwise been able to laugh. He looked a lot older in the picture too, the beard, the white hair, the dark circles under his eyes and the sunken in cheeks, she could understand where maybe some of his insecurities about his appearances stemmed now, when he felt he was old and haggard. For a time, he kind of was.

She then noticed his thin hands on each of his babies' shoulders, pulling them as close to him as the bars would allow…likely the most contact he could have with them, and felt her heart ache. She remembered him saying he was not allowed out of his cell for visits, or anyone in, but she hadn't really thought about what that meant until just now. Was the first time he was able to hug his two children three years ago? When they were nine? Ginny looked at that picture, seeing that desperate contact he was making, and felt a tear slide down her cheek. The children really were his whole world.

She knew she was in love with him, and Clarissa seemed just as aware, and Ginny was a little intimidated by such a strong feeling, but Clarissa's warm acceptance of it, and her elation for her father, was enough to quell her nervous nauseous feeling, even if but slightly, for the night.

--------------------------

Sebastian and Draco were in Wiltshire, passing through Salisbury Plain, on their way to Mere, almost to Castle Hill. Sebastian was driving while Draco curled up in the front seat, both attempting to be civil which basically left them in a heavy silence since neither had anything nice to say to the other so they said nothing at all. Draco had opened the car ride with one innocent little question, and Sebastian had blown up on him.

"I have been very good at not asking questions, not questioning you or your motive. I have taken all that you have given me as far as information and not asked for more…but one thing has been bothering me," he had asked. "Why the Little Mermaid? You some kinda fruit?"

Sebastian had not responded well to the inquiry, and Draco had not gotten himself an answer. Sebastian's hostility even prevented Draco from looking into his mind at that point, the emotions too strong to wade through. He realized he would have been better of not asking because now he might not ever know.

That little thing had been nagging at him for a while, bit he knew that if he were patient he would learn the reason.

Draco had himself a doughnut, and in the entirety of the car ride, he had done little more than meticulously pick off the plenteous peanut bits that clung to it and ate them one at a time. On their way out of the Muggle man Derrick's home, Draco had suddenly stopped as though unexpectedly remembering something important, and made an abrupt request for something to eat. Sebastian had waited as Derrick had happily obliged his emaciated friend, but Draco's slow ingestion of the indulgence during the ride was gnawing away at Sebastian's nerves far faster than Draco was on the doughnut.

"Will you just eat that damn thing already? Jesus, you have been at it for the last hour and you have not even gotten to the dough yet," he snapped.

"I will eat my treat at any pace I desire. And don't call me Jesus," Draco drawled, his voice still soft but less raw after having not used it for nearly an hour now.

Sebastian pulled off the road then, only because they were nearly to their destination, and parked with a rather unnecessary slam of the breaks.

"And it is said that I have a temper," Draco muttered, more to himself than anything after Sebastian took off his seatbelt with a snap, the metal clasp hitting the door loudly, and him opening it with a kick of his right leg to climb out. Draco followed suit at a much gentler and slower pace and joined Sebastian near the trunk of the car, still picking at his doughnut

"Here," Sebastian said, thrusting something small, black, and hard at Draco. Draco caught it in his chest with an "umph" and was able to not drop his treat or the firearm.

"What…?" Draco started to ask but Sebastian not giving him a chance.

"For protection, and in case we run into any troublesome Muggles."

"You expect me to shoot someone?" Draco asked, a little surprised, holding the gun awkwardly in his palm.

"You don't have a wand," he said shortly. "What, you don't know how to use it?" he then jeered, meaning to put Draco down. Draco just narrowed his eyes and held the gun properly before checking the safety with his index finger and slipping it into the back waistband of his pants. He had changed while at Derrick's house, and unfortunately, the only thing Derrick had that even came close to fitting Draco was something from the man's long past wild youth. Draco was in a pair of tight black leather pants, boots, and a white dress shirt under the black coat he had nabbed earlier from the wizard home he had Flooed to. The clothing was snazzy, and he looked good in it, but it wasn't quite his style. At least with it being cold out he didn't have to worry about sweating and chaffing in the trousers, though they were still far from comfortable.

Sebastian glared into Draco's confident eyes and Draco's only response was to smirk and pick a tiny pinch of doughnut off and eat it.

"Why did you even ask for that thing if you are not going to eat it?" Sebastian griped as he moved over to the backseat of his car to unload the caged Nifflers that were humming and grunting cutely as the nudged about the cramped cages.

"I am eating it, just not at any rate you seemingly approve of. Ginny made me promise to eat more, I just don't have much of an appetite," Draco said casually, picking at his doughnut, more than willing to let Sebastian do all the manual labor on his own.

"She already has you that whipped?" Sebastian teased.

"Hardly, but my declining health and weight loss is rather worrisome, not only to her, so I do not mind her fussing. Pleasing her is just more motivation to get healthy-er…" he muttered, doubting he could ever be so bold as to claim to be "healthy".

"She is bossy, and stubborn, and a bitch…it's why I dumped her," he said meanly.

"I heard from reliable sources that she dumped your arse, because you are an arse," he said with a smirk, still picking at his pastry like a bird.

"She give you a blow-job yet? That was the only reason why I kept her around so long, the little fire-crotch gives good head," he snapped, retaliating by making Ginny sound like a whore so as to try and upset Draco. "No wonder she is a tramp now, I shagged her pink ass so good that I stripped her of her decency and integrity," he went on to say. Draco knew Sebastian was just compensating for his wounded ego at that point after what Draco had said, the man's emotions so easily read, so he didn't take great offense to what was said about Ginny. It was a lousy attempt on Sebastian's part. It was true, she did give good head, and if he was just trying to make her out to be a tramp it was weak since Ginny had never done anything remotely risqué with a man until they was officially dating. So she had had an affair, Draco was not about to write her off for that, so Sebastian's harsh words were like water off a hippogriff's back.

"I don't know what you are bragging about," he said coolly, Sebastian looking over at him, "I heard it was like a pencil," Draco mocked, sticking up his pinky finger and wiggling it playfully. Sebastian looked furious at Draco's insinuation that his manhood was a little bit of a…shortcoming. He took only one step towards Draco before stopping, however, Draco holding his gun up, drawn faster than Sebastian had thought possible. "Hey now, I'm armed," he warned, holding the gun like her knew how to use it.

"You son-of-a…"

"Ah, ah, ah…" he tisked. "Now, no insulting the crazy guy with the gun pointed at you," Draco said, talking as though to a simpleton, or a child. Sebastian glared and Draco just looked as self-assured and confident as he ever had in Hogwarts. "Come-come, we are losing light, fast," Draco said, clicking the safety on his gun again before stashing it away and picking at his doughnut again in the precise way that irritated Sebastian so.

------------------

Réamann was sitting with Harry, both not talking at the moment, both deep in thought, both at a loss of what to say to the other man anyways. Réamann's shoulder was still aching, even after being treated by healers. Draco had gotten a harsh hit on him, breaking his shoulder and bruising his neck badly.

It had been like this since Draco had fled the Ministry. Réamann had turned to Harry for comfort in the internal conflict he was feeling, but Harry had welcomed him into his office without a word and hadn't shared a one in all that time.

"I can't believe it," Réamann finally said. "I mean, I kinda always doubted him, because he was just so private and all I knew were the terrible things I had read about him and the fact that he had spent ten years in Azkaban, but he had me nearly convinced that he was innocent. He had me going, even feeling bad for him. Now I feel like a fool, I mean, come on, the Ministry wouldn't have been able to lock him away if he were truly innocent," Réamann said, sounding angry, but at himself, and Harry glanced up at him guiltily.

"Draco went through a lot during the war, and ten years in Azkaban is a long time to strew, and develop resentment and build grudges," Harry muttered, finally talking.

"You are not excusing what he has recently done are you…?" Réamann attempted to accuse and Harry shook his head.

"No, no. I am just saying…I mean…he really wasn't guilty when he was sent to Azkaban," he admitted then, looking down at his desk with heavy eyes. Réamann was silent, for once. "I had promised him that I would see to it that the Ministry pardoned him if he worked with the Order, but he kept flip-flopping in the war, and confessed to me this desire to be rid of the Dark Lord only to take his place, and that frightened me. In the end, however, he helped me, and I knew he had done the right thing and had his heart in the right place, but I wasn't able to hold up my end of the deal. Circumstances and such. He lost everything doing the right thing and was punished for it, and I think years in Azkaban, being betrayed, having had grandiose inclinations in the past, all lead him to doing this now. I can't help but feel this is all my fault, that I pushed him to this, or at least started him down the path that lead him to this, this…atrocity."

"So you think he is responsible?" Réamann asked, feeling a little less guilty at never trusting Draco if the same were true for Harry, but feeling more the fool for having been willing to give Draco such a chance.

"We both know Draco is one ingredient short of a store cupboard," he said first off. "I'm not saying he doesn't have any comprehension of what he is doing and whether or not it is wrong, but I think he simply doesn't care."

"You mean like a sociopath?" Réamann asked.

"I have met sociopaths in the past. Draco is not one, a problem of his -I think- is that he cares too much about things, and takes things to grotesque extremes as a result, with a mind so black and white he either loves or despises something, something is good or bad, no in-between with him. But he is mental, one way or another, and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could toss him," he sighed.

"I still feel terrible about turning him over to the Ministry without any proof."

"He destroyed the proof," Harry pointed out.

"I found my keys on the floor not far from my office. I could have easily just dropped them when I shoved Draco," he argued, not sure why he was trying to prove Draco's innocents at that point when both he and Harry were agreed that Draco was wicked through and through.

"That doesn't explain what happened to the file. You know he destroyed it…and I know you hate upsetting Tonks by fingering her cousin, but she has to come to grips and deal with the fact that her cousin, whether she loves him or not, is a danger to himself and everyone around him."

"I can't believe Ginny…"

"Don't beat yourself up over that," Harry warned.

"I know she wronged me," he said, not mentioning to Harry what he and Draco had talked about, about knowing about the affair and that slight connection they had made over both having experienced such a crime, "But, I can't help but worry about her. He is dangerous, a wanted man, killing Muggles or helping someone else do so. She might have cheated on me, I might be angry at her for it, but I wouldn't be able to handle something bad happening to her," he admitted. He still cared about Ginny. He wished he could hate her, because it would make the whole situation somehow easier to deal with, but he couldn't manage. Despite everything, he still wished her the very best.

"I understand that. I care about Ginny too, even with all the stupid things she has done in the past," he said.

"Like what?" Réamann interrupted, a little heated. Other than recently get caught cheating on him with Draco Malfoy, what had Ginny done? The reason he was so shocked by Ginny's current behavior was because he otherwise held a great respect and admiration for the woman. Harry and her clearly has some mildly bad blood between them because they were divorced, but he couldn't imagine there being anything Harry could hate Ginny for.

"She and Draco have fooled around in the past," Harry said and Réamann gaped at him.

"What?"

"During the war, when it moved to the castle Lonely Keep, Ginny and Draco started working together for the Order on missions and such. They grew close. One night, I stumbled across them having sex," Harry said, still unrelenting in his belief that Ginny had lost her virginity to Draco Malfoy and still wounded by that thought.

"Oh my God, are you serious?" Réamann managed after opening and closing his mouth a few times, unable to find his voice.

"Things between her and I were never the same after that. She denied ever having slept with him when I finally confronted her on the matter, but I know what I saw, and I knew what I saw in Draco…something not good…and I just couldn't trust her after that. I hoped to guide you while you dated her, so you wouldn't fall under her spell like I had, so she wouldn't hurt you too, but I guess I failed. I'm sorry," he sighed.

"It wasn't your responsibility to see my relationship through to the end," Réamann comforted, though not sure he liked what Harry was saying.

"I just recognized you as a good chap, and knew that Ginny could hurt you without meaning to, just by being herself, and I didn't want that to happen."

"I thank you," Réamann said, though a little sad that Harry seemed so guilty. None of this was his fault; Harry was too good for his own good.

"Have you heard from Ginny?" Harry asked.

"Not since I spoke to her yesterday. She didn't give me a listen. I wonder if she knows what went down…?"

"The Ministry already went to his home and found her there. I'm sure she knows."

"Does she know anything?" he asked and Harry looked at him questioningly. "I mean about what Draco was, well, is up to or where he might be?"

"I'm sure if she did the Ministry would know now too having questioned her under a truth serum."

"I think we should go talk to her," Réamann suddenly announced.

"Why?"

"I don't know, to get answers from her, to tell her the truth about Draco, convince her to come back to the light…I don't know. I haven't had a chance for a proper talk with her since before all this mess broke and I feel unresolved," he ranted, already standing. Harry looked at the younger wizard for a long moment and then nodded in agreement. He would take Réamann to go see Ginny, and be there to keep the situation calm. He too wanted Ginny to see the light and come back to the side of right.

--------------------------------

Ginny was in the living room, tidying up as a means of dealing with the stress of her day. Clarissa was washing up for bed, her teeth brushed, her curling hair combed (so it was full and puffing now) and tied back, and her face washed. Clarissa had not been home when the Ministry had barged in on her in Draco's apartment, and she was glad of it. She had been interrogated and harassed and forced to take a truth potion and answer impossible questions about Draco, but in the end found to be innocent of any wrongdoing when it came to Draco's illegal activities. The Aurors had left her alone, in time for Clarissa to come home from school and squeal in excitement of having a slumber party for two.

Her stomach still unsettled, her nerves still frazzled, Ginny nearly screamed when there was a CRACK and two men appeared nearly out of her peripheral vision.

"It's alright, Ginny, it's just Réamann and I," Harry assured, holding his hands up to ease Ginny down.

"Harry? Réamann? What the bloody hell are you doing here?" she hissed, keeping her voice down in hopes that Clarissa wouldn't hear them over the rushing water and her cheerful hums that were drifting from the not-too-distant bathroom.

"We wanted to see if you were alright," Harry said, speaking softly, though not as softly as Ginny.

"And to talk to you," Réamann added.

"I don't want to talk to you, either of you," she snapped. "Go away, get out, this is not your house, how dare you Apparate directly into it!"

"This isn't your house either," Harry pointed out.

"Oh fuck you, Harry," she seethed.

"Alright, please…Ginny, calm down. We came here to talk, please let us do so without yelling, or cursing…PUT YOUR WAND AWAY!" he gasped, eyes widening as Ginny pulled her wand and pointed it at the two men.

"I have had it with you, all of you, strutting about and attempting to control my future! I know why you are here, to try and tell me that Draco is no good, that I should get away from him while I still can, that he will bring me down with him and that he is doing terrible things," she growled, wand pointed between Réamann and Harry each with a snap, both men flinching when the wand tip fell on them.

"Ginny…" Réamann attempted.

"No, you do not know him. I know how things look, and I know you think I'm a whore, and that Draco has me under some sort of spell, or believing some web of lies. I know the Ministry thinks I'm covering for him, and you think he is mental and a terrible person...but I know all that to be untrue!"

"Ginny," Harry now attempted to speak. "We do not think you are a whore, and we do not think you had anything to do with what Draco is doing now or that you are covering up for him," he said, Réamann shaking his head to show he didn't believe any of that either.

"But you believe the rest of it," she snapped, wand pointed at Harry again.

"Ginny, he is crazy," he said, being quite bold with his choice of words considering he had a wand pointed at his throat.

"Oh, if that's not the pot calling the cauldron black, Harry. How many hours of therapy have you been in? Three times a week you went while we were married and you were still tormented by nightmares, flashbacks, night sweats…How dare you stand here, traumatized by all you went through, and fault Draco for being in worse condition after being through the same and so much more!"

"He didn't-"

"He didn't get therapy after the war, he didn't get counseling. No, he got a jail sentence. I'm surprised he can even function after spending ten years in that place because of you."

"It was not my fault!" Harry shouted, Réamann looking at him, Harry having basically said it was his fault while in his office not but a few minutes ago. Harry felt guilty…but was it his fault, or wasn't it?

"You left him there to rot, I did too, but where I made amends, you just ignored him."

"Yeah, made `amends' by fucking him! Forgive me for not feeling guilty enough to do the same!" Harry snapped.

"Fuck you, Harry."

"I tried to make things right, I tried to help him, I made sure he was probated as soon as his time came up, but he refused me in every attempt I made after that. Even at Christmas I offered him the Black Family savings and he turned it down!"

"I'm not surprised. He doesn't want your pity, or your guilt money."

"It's not guilt money!" Harry fumed, Draco having accused him of the same thing.

"Whatever. All I know is that you think he is evil; you think he is guilty of these attacks, that's why you are here…but I know him to be innocent! I know he is a far greater man than you will ever be!" she spat, that last comment really smarting Harry. Réamann was caught standing there, unsure of what to say. This was all a mess. He thought if anyone was going to get in a shouting match with Ginny, it would be him.

"There was a time that I respected you," Harry growled.

"I can say the same about you," she said, throwing that right back up in Harry's face. More would have been said, but the doorbell rang right then, as though sent as some divine intervention that Réamann had been hoping for.

"I got it," all three said at once. Ginny turned to glare at the two men, stopping them in their tracks, before tucking her wand in her armpit and pulling open the door to allow in a gust of cold.

"Hello," Derrick Hammond said, looking cold and a little unsure.

"Hello, who are you?" Ginny asked, not recognizing the man and trying to keep her residual hostility out of her voice so she simply sounded curious.

"I am Derrick, Derrick Hammond. I am a friend of Angel's," he said before then adding. "Well, Draco."

"He isn't home at the moment," she said apologetically, frowning her brow.

"I actually came to talk to you about him," he said, seemingly knowing about Ginny and Ginny a little uncomfortable since Draco had never mentioned this man to her before as near as she could recall. "Could I come in?" he said, looking a little uncomfortable himself in having to ask.

"Oh, I'm sorry, come in, I'm being rude," she said, taking a deep and calming breath so that all the anger that still clung in her features left over from Harry and Réamann faded away.

"I'm sorry to make such a late house call, but Draco showed up unexpectedly at my home today, looking a right mess, and I am worried about him. I think he is in the middle of something that has gotten way out of hand and he is over his head," he confessed, talking to Ginny but taking in the other two men in the room.

"Draco came to you, today?" Harry demanded.

"Yes," Derrick said, glad that Harry and Réamann were there, just like he had been told they would.

"What did he say to you? Is he alright?" Ginny demanded, fighting not to shake the man so as to physically dislodge the answers from him.

"What do you mean when you said you think he is in the middle of something that has him over his head? What did he say to you?" Harry inquired fiercely.

"He wouldn't tell me, I asked!" he said, suddenly defensive at the last with the look Harry gave him. "I asked him again and again what he was up to and he wouldn't tell me. Then this other chap showed up, Sebastian was the only name I overheard them use, and they started talking about goblins and gold."

"Were they talking about Gringott? Are they going to do something to the Wizarding Bank?" Réamann asked, Harry shocked silent for a moment by the news of Sebastian being a part of this, assuming that it was the same Sebastian he knew. How many Sebastians could Draco know?

"No, no, they seemed to be talking about finding some sort of buried gold, like a hidden treasure. They were talking amongst themselves, not filling me in on any of it so I am as clueless as you, but I do know they set out to Wiltshire."

"Wiltshire?" Ginny asked. Draco's home was out in Wiltshire…that wasn't a coincidence, was it?

"Yes, something about going to Castle Hill," he said, Harry and Réamann already preparing to leave.

"Wait, no," Ginny said, spinning on them to try and stop them.

"We have to stop Draco and Sebastian before they do anything more," Réamann said, Harry still coming to grips with Sebastian's apparent guilt.

"Draco is innocent, whatever is happening, he is not a part of it. He is planning something, or, or…" she said, desperately trying to get them to see her sureness in Draco's innocents.

"Don't come with us," Harry warned, Disapparating on that note. Réamann gave Ginny an apologetic look as Clarissa wandered into view, looking worried and scared and unsure.

"Look after her," he said, knowing that that would keep Ginny from following more than Harry's order.

Ginny took a deep breath and sobbed, feeling her stomach gurgle in a way that she knew meant she was going to be sick.

"Uncle Derrick, what's going on, where's Daddy?" Clarissa asked meekly, as she came up to latch onto the man's hip, it obvious she knew him when Ginny was still clueless as to whom he could be.

"Your father knows what he is doing," Derrick assured, Ginny turning her back on the little girl only so as to hide her tears.

--------------------------

"Will you stop messing with those damn things and help me?" Sebastian barked, Draco crouched down by the cages that contained the Nifflers, growling at them playfully, poking them through the bars to get them to spin around and chirp.

Draco raised his head, much like a dog would, and glared at Sebastian as he remained crouched low in the snow on hands and feet.

"I don't know what you would have me do. I lead you here, I helped you carry these cages from the car, and you yourself said I wouldn't be much help digging," he drawled.

"Be a goddamn lookout while I let loose the Nifflers."

"It is past dark and we are on the far side of a giant hill, out of sight of the sleepy Muggle town. Who will see us?"

"Us," Harry announced, holding his wand up to send a hex at Draco while Réamann did the same to the unsuspecting Sebastian whose back was nearly turned.

Draco's pupils contracted to slits as the bright light of Harry's spell came at him. Draco narrowed his less than human eyes as he sprung backwards on his crouching hands and feet so the spell just missed him. Harry sent another curse at Draco that made contact but it seemed to affect Draco very little as he charged forward to grab Harry by the wrist and twist it down so that Harry gasped in pain and involuntarily dropped his wand.

"I am quite resistant to magic, Potter, didn't you know?" Draco growled into his face from inches away, sharp teeth from when he had been playing with the Nifflers bared. A gunshot sounded and Réamann froze, as did Draco and Harry, all looking over at Sebastian who was on the ground, in a leg-locking charm, gun fired off into the air but now pointed at Réamann.

"Back off," he warned, Réamann complying without a word. Draco grabbed Harry's wand from the ground and twisted his arm harder so now it was pinned behind Harry's own back painfully. Draco marched him over to where Réamann was standing, disarmed by Sebastian already. Sebastian petrified the two men and handed Réamann's wand off to Draco too, pocketing his gun again and drawing out his own wand to free his legs and stand dignified, running his hand over his chin to smooth his goatee.

"How did you find us here?" he demanded, Draco stuffing his free hand into his coat pocket where the wands were protruding. Harry and Réamann said nothing, both glaring, either at Sebastian or Draco, each. "Talk!" he bellowed, pointing his sparking wand at Réamann's throat and pushing his chin up and back with it.

"A man came to us saying Draco had visited his home today. He feared Draco was up to something, something bad," Harry answered so Réamann would not be hurt.

"That old fool. I told you, did I not say before we left, I should have used a memory charm on him so he couldn't go to anyone!" Sebastian shouted at Draco, knowing exactly who Harry was talking about.

"I did not think he would go to Potter, of all people," Draco snapped in his own defense.

"Who knows you are here?" Sebastian then shouted at Harry, pointing his wand at him then as the four men stood in the crisp white snow that seemed rather dull with the moon gone from the sky.

Harry and Réamann said nothing again, but this time because they were embarrassed by the answer. They had shown up directly from Draco's apartment where they had left Ginny. They had not even thought about calling for backup or filling the Ministry in. Harry cursed his sometimes pigheadedness. Sure he had taken down the most powerful wizard in recent decades, and each of his years in Hogwarts were adventures for the ages, but he had foolishly charged into a situation not knowing the full dangers and had, resultantly, fallen into a trap.

This was not the first time Harry had fallen into such a trap because of Malfoy. This was like that rooftop during the final battle all over again and this time Draco was look damn pleased with himself.

"They didn't tell anyone they were coming. They thought they could get the drop on us," Draco answered for Sebastian, knowing exactly why Harry and Réamann were looking so abashed and fuming.

Sebastian laughed. "What fools," he said. "And how perfect, Réamann Rossiter here, just the man we were looking for, and Harry Potter, someone who can attest to our -mine and Draco's- innocents and have no one dare challenge it!"

"I would never do such a thing!" Harry shouted, wishing he could move, unable to even struggle as he stood there, stiff as an ice sculpture in the snow.

"Please, you are not above the effects of a memory charm. Réamann here will be believing, before we are through here tonight, that he is the one responsible for all the attacks on the Muggles-"

"I am quite good at implementing memories into others' minds, right Potter?" Draco interrupted, Harry knowing of this skill of Draco's firsthand having be subject to it nearly every time they had been within close quarters for years now. He knew Draco could evoke memories in others, and share his own, but take memories from one person -in this case Sebastian- and implant them in another -like Réamann-? That was a seriously frightening ability. The Dark Lord had been able to create such false memories in people.

"Right, well…and you, Harry will have false memories of coming here to stop your friend, insane with rage, from killing poor innocent Draco…me at your side, nobly of course," Sebastian finished smugly.

"You bastards, both of you! You two have been planning all this from the start!" Réamann seethed, outraged, and scared.

"Please," Sebastian drawled. "Draco, clever as he is, was no part of this mastery until the end. He is, how you say, an unwelcome appendage in this."

"What are you doing, why are you doing this?" Harry demanded.

"Why should I tell you?" Sebastian taunted.

"What harm is to be had in doing so, they will have their memories erased shortly anyways, and we have time to waste after we release the Nifflers," Draco commented so calmly. Sebastian looked over at him.

"Right, the Nifflers. Let them out of the cages. I want to get this over with before the sun comes."

Draco nodded obediently and moved over to the cages where the Nifflers edged about. He opened the cage and grabbed one around the middle in both his arms, to prevent it from struggling and wiggling too greatly, and carried it clutched to his stomach over to the hill where its steep manmade, or maybe Goblinmade, sides started to rise from the earth.

"Shoo, find gold," he muttered to it, repeating with each of the five Nifflers, letting them loose a few feet apart each, hoping they would be quick.

"You and Draco have been killing Muggles for weeks, so what are you doing here on this empty hill?" Réamann asked as Draco worked and Sebastian oversaw it.

"The murders-"

"Which I had nothing to do with," Draco interrupted.

"Right, well, they were to serve as distraction for the Ministry, so I could have my way with this search," Sebastian explained dryly.

"Search for what?" Harry asked.

"Goblin Gold," Draco answered for them, letting loose the last Niffler.

"You have been attacking and killing Muggles for gold?" Harry asked, sickened by the very idea that someone's greed could be so consuming.

"Yup," Sebastian answered simply.

"And you were helping him cover up his involvement in the murders the whole time," Réamann accused Draco.

"Nope," Draco answered just as simply as Sebastian had Harry's question.

"Then what is your involvement in all this? Why are you here?"

"I want some gold," Draco said with a smirk as though that were the obvious answer.

"I offered you gold!" Harry shouted at him.

"And I told you I could get my own gold, without your help, didn't I?" Draco quipped.

"Draco wouldn't be here, getting a share of my gold, if my attempt in using him as my scapegoat hadn't-"

"Backfired miserably given that is was so poorly conceived," Draco finished for him, looking over his shoulder then to see if any Nifflers had resurfaced.

"What?"

"Well, as I plan to do with Réamann tonight, I intended, initially, it to be Draco's fate. But, unfortunately-"

"I cannot have my mind modified as easily as the common bloke, and I figured out Sebastian's involvement in the murders, as I shared with Réamann who didn't believe me," Draco said, finishing again for Sebastian but making a brief bitter detour to glare at Réamann because the man had refused to trust him. "I'm here because I-"

"Blackmailed me," Sebastian answered, cutting Draco off then, glaring at the werewolf for taking all his glory in explaining his deed and constantly interrupting him.

"Wait, so you, Sebastian, were attacking and killing Muggles so that the Ministry would not realize what you were really up to, and Draco is only here because he caught you at it and is using that information to get a chunk of the gold you are after?" Harry asked, trying to make sense of all he was being told by the two men trying to tell the same story while having a mild power struggle between themselves.

"That about sums it up. And I would have gotten away with it too-"

"If it weren't for you meddling kids," Draco muttered and Sebastian looked at him as though he hadn't quite caught that or understood its relevance. "Hey, what do you want, I'm a father, I watch cartoons…don't look at me like that," he said, turning to see what the first Niffler to return was bearing. Harry was blinking rapidly as his brain whirled around to deal with a completely different bit of information he was just proposed with.

Draco, father, what?

"What I meant to say was: I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for Draco being so damn clever. I tried bullying him off the investigation, while he worked trying to break the case secretly with you, Réamann, as your informant, but just by doing that alone I seemed to convey some sort of guilt and he was able to decipher the little clues I left behind."

"So you can take that and shove it up your arse, Réamann, for being such a stubborn bastard that you never trusted me, even while I was sincerely trying to help you and the Ministry," Draco said, taking the shiny pebble the Niffler offered him and rewarding it with a pat on the bum but sending it off to find real treasure, not just pretty stones. He pocketed it, however. His son liked stones.

"I was justified in never trusting you, as it turns out, look at you! You are helping this batty frame me, and Harry!" Réamann shouted.

"Oh, not Harry, just you," Draco smirked, coming back to join the group. "And you pushed me to this, don't fool yourself into believing that I would have set out to do this if I hadn't been backed into a corner. I tried to help, I tried to do the right thing, I tried to be honest and noble and sincere and what happened? I was punished for it…again! Fuck you, fuck all of you. I'm tired of being punished for who my father was. I'm tired of being blamed for things that were not my fault…and I'm tired of you looking at me like that, Potter, so knock it off," Draco snapped, drawing his gun and pointing at Harry steadily, his angry eyes slits because of his rage.

"Draco, heal," Sebastian commanded, grabbing Draco by the wrist, Draco's gun, and his wand, no longer pointing at anything but the ground. "We can't kill the Ministry's Golden Boy," he said and Draco looked disappointed and pouty as he let Sebastian lower his arm further. "Check on the Nifflers," he then said, hearing another scratch its way to the surface.

"This won't work," Réamann attempted to be bold, staying firm despite the hopelessness of the situation.

"Oh, really, why is that?" Sebastian mocked, thoroughly sure of himself, with no real reason not to be at the moment given Harry and Réamann's condition.

"Because you made the mistake of giving me a gun," Draco said, his voice soft but menacing, so close that Sebastian could feel Draco's warm breath on the back of his neck.

Sebastian spun and Draco ducked as the man took a swing at him. Draco was kneeling in the snow with his gun drawn and pointing, but Sebastian was standing there, his gun drawn and doing the same at Draco.

Harry and Réamann, unable to move, just stared in disbelief.

"Draco, you mean to kill me, wanting more gold for yourself?" Sebastian growled but Draco cut him off.

"There is no gold here," he said and Sebastian's arms twitched slightly but he remained firm. Draco stood up, adjusting his aim while doing so, Sebastian and him now a few feet apart but at gunpoint each.

"Yes there is, the Goblin Lord-"

"Buried his treasure in Cley Hill, not Castle Hill. You should have let me go on about the history a bit more, you might have been able to poke holes in my lie if you had. Your mistake I guess."

"So this is about the money, you would take my share?"

"It would serve you right after all you have done to me," Draco snapped back.

"What is your plan then? Erase my memory too? You cannot use magic without the ministry knowing, and even if you used some form of Legilimency, you can't Apparate, you had no means of even getting here without me. The Ministry would investigate and discover the truth. You need me."

"Now, only a fool would stand here and explain every last detail of their plan and intentions to their advisory," Draco mocked, reaching into his coat pocket again and this time withdrawing a small tape recorder. He hit a button with a click, another with a whirling sound, and then again where the last minute of their conversation played back to them. Sebastian looked murderous.

"You!"

"Surprise," he said teasingly tilting the tape recorder back and forth in his hand playfully. "Didn't expect me to turn on you, and side with the Ministry in the end, likely sacrificing the gold and my freedom in the process, did you?"

"What? Why?"

Draco just shrugged. "I'm a glutton for punishment, but I think I have earned the respect of those two over there, at last," Draco said, indicating Harry and Réamann that were gaping at him, "and that, really, is enough for me," he concluded, only Ginny knowing how much he desired to have the respect of those he scarified so much for those years ago.

"I won't let you ruin this for me!" Sebastian shouted, drawing his wand then too so it was pointed at Draco, the gun in Harry and Réamann's direction. "What to do, what to do? Save yourself, or save your little friends?" Sebastian taunted.

"Haven't you learned anything tonight? Magic won't affect me-"

"A killing curse would, am I right?" Sebastian cut off and Draco paled. He gripped his gun a little firmer and Sebastian noticed.

"Ah-ah," he taunted while shaking his head, backing Draco down. "I can think a curse faster than you can pull that trigger," he assured, Draco believing him. "Over to them, over there NOW," he commanded, inclining his head and giving it a little shake to direct Draco to stand by Harry and Réamann. "It was a toss up for me, Draco. I was conflicted between holding up my end of the bargain, or just killing you after your usefulness was through. I could make it all unfold to seem like I had caught you about to kill again and did what I had to do to stop you."

"Don't you think I figured you would consider killing me?" Draco snapped impatiently, annoyed that Sebastian would think him so gullible. "I sent Derrick to my home tonight, sure that Potter and or Réamann would be there for him to tell them my cover, something I knew they would believe: that I was up to no good and that he was feeling guilty knowing the truth."

"Why send them here? What good has that done? Look at them! Helpless!"

"They got you talking, and kept you talking. You are a walking cliché, you know that right? You blabbed you entire plan and means to those who would stop you! You are a damn fool!"

"And my confession will do you no good, you will be dead and Réamann and Harry will be without minds in but a few short min-"

"That's why I arranged for the Ministry to meet us here," Draco said with a satisfied smile.

"What?" Sebastian, Harry, and Réamann all said at once.

Draco smiled quite satisfactually, about to do what he had just berated Sebastian for, which was divulge his plan…but the difference was, Draco's was already set in motion, there was nothing Sebastian could do to stop him. Not even killing him would do anything; it would actually, quite possibly, just make things worse. "Knowing Harry and/or Réamann would abandon Ginny in my home alone with Derrick upon learning of my most certain guilt, I told Derrick to confide in Ginny the truth once they were alone, and have her bring the Ministry here. I had made sure she would be at my home tonight previously, which worked out nicely, because even if Harry and Réamann weren't there by chance, Ginny would still have been told to gather the Ministry, sabotaging your plans one way or another," Draco stated, drawing the greatest satisfaction from seeing the raw horror and rage on Sebastian's pale pointed face. He wished he could see Potter's too. He was sure it was priceless.

Sebastian let out a shriek of pure rage and pulled the trigger of his gun out of just being so tensed. Draco, without considering this first, dodged to the left, catching the bullet in the shoulder, a bullet that would have struck Réamann in the chest otherwise.

Draco collapsed onto his knees with a cry of pain, and with his right arm he aimed and fired his own gun, catching Sebastian in the right leg, twisting it out from under him with a burst of blood that sprayed the white snow. Sebastian fell, and Draco stood, left shoulder bleeding profusely. He kicked Sebastian's gun away, and his wand.

"Draco…" Harry muttered, not sure what he could say to the man.

"Don't ever doubt me again, Potter," Draco warned, looking at Harry from over his shoulder and Harry eyes agreeing as Draco fell to his knees again. "Shit, being shot really fucking hurts! Leave it to Muggles to develop such a barbaric thing as a gun," he grumbled, wanting to hold his shoulder but it hurting too much to do so. He had never been shot before, he figured it would hurt, he could assume as much just by knowing the sheer mechanics of a gun and the principle behind it, but somehow this hurt far worse than he had anticipated. Réamann seriously owed him for this.

A moment passed as Sebastian moaned and cursed in the snow, a few Nifflers surfaced to chirp and purr over the shiny bits of this-and-that they found, and Draco hissed in pain before Réamann spoke.

"Why?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you do all this?"

"Because it was the right thing to do? Maybe?" he replied, a touch bitterly.

"Draco," Harry attempted and Draco just looked at him, knowing what Harry was about to ask and preempting that with that little trick of Legilimency he had threatened Harry with already that night. He thrust upon Harry memories and knowledge all the things he had lost in the war, letting Harry see Butler Paul's blinding first, then his murder, both while Draco had been forced to watch as some kind of punishment for things Draco still did not understand. He made Harry see Snape's death from his perspective since Harry had been there but missed what it had meant to him to have Snape die to save him, Draco, but turn to look at Harry as his last act on this earth. He showed Harry his aunt's death at the hands of Molly Weasley during one of the many battles. He shared with Harry the circumstances of his father's death, and Harry was, by that time, crying at all the foreign memories and emotions that came with it. Draco then showed Harry that night shared between Ginny and him, and that there had been no sex, just Draco finding solace in Ginny's honest acceptance of him, and her love. It was basically what he had done with Ginny the night before, only without words, or tears on his part, just the cold, hard, harsh memories thrust into someone else. It was a cruel way of letting someone know him, see him, understand him but Draco -for some reason- wasn't all that concerned with Harry's feelings in the matter.

"I could not lose her too," Draco said, speaking of Ginny, meaning he could not have gone through with Sebastian's plan that he had agreed to because, as little respect as Harry seemed to have for Ginny at the moment, Draco knew she would not excuse or accept what he did, and she would leave him.

Harry stood there, still frozen, tears running down his cheeks in the icy cold air.

"I expect you to take care of me this time, Harry," Draco said softly, looking at Harry for the first time that night with soft eyes while also using his first name. Harry, unable to move, just muttered "Yes," softly, just as the sound of a dozen wizards Apparating sounded all around them

The Ministry was finally there.

------------------

Author's Note:

28 pages long, damn this is a long chapter, sorry.

The leather pants were a fan-service to my faithful readers. Sorry, that is one cliché I just could not deny. Slender Draco + leather pants = hawt sex.

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