Blue-Eyed Angel
Epilogue
Four days in Azkaban was like an eternity, and Draco had not managed to eat or sleep in the entirety of his stay. Needless to say, by the time Ginny came to pick him up that weekend, he was weak and sickly. Not that he had been all that healthy as of late anyways, but he had declined quite exponentially in that short time and it worried those around him, even the guards.
Harry had been his first visitor; along with the lawyer he was supplying to represent Draco.
"Draco…I," he attempted to speak but Draco wouldn't have it.
"Don't even try and apologize to me, Potter," Draco cut him off. Harry nodded readily, not about to argue or retaliate, feeling he really deserved a major chewing out after all this mess. He hadn't slept since that night on the hill either, not after having seen those terrible memories that Draco had inflicted on him. He couldn't even imagine having lived them. He wasn't about to enquire further into the comment Draco had made about being a father either, even though he had opportunity. He had not known Draco was a father, or when and how this could have come about, but he knew it wasn't his place to ask, let alone use his influence to find out. Curiosity ate away at him, like it always did, but guilt was even more consuming at the moment, so he managed to hold off and wait to find out who Draco Malfoy really was. He owed it to the other man to get him out of this mess first.
"I am impressed that you were able to manipulate that whole scene so well…that you managed to keep such a level head, and plan it all out ahead of time-"
"Please, I was flying by the seat of my trousers, my plan unfolding as I went along," Draco brushed off, not about to sit there behind iron bars and listen to Harry's empty complements and praise. It was all a means for Harry to make himself feel better and less uncomfortable, the amount of guilt Draco could sense coming from the boy-hero evidence of that.
Maybe Harry really did mean what he was saying, but Draco did not care, not right then, probably not ever. Harry's words meant nothing to him. His actions were what counted; he could do without Harry ever speaking to him again.
"You mean, you weren't certain it would all work out?" Harry gaped, looking at Draco through the bars that the werewolf in front of him feared so much. It had all been a gamble? Draco was here in Azkaban, but he could have wound up here for real, for a real long time if things had not unfolded exactly as they had? Harry was shocked. Where did Draco learn to be so self-sacrificing? More importantly, why would Draco be so munificent in regards to him? Certainly Draco's sense of right doing wasn't as strong as his extreme dislike for Harry, right? He couldn't have seen past his hate to do the harder, right thing…or could he? Harry swallowed the lump that was crawling up his throat from his stomach.
"Far from certain," Draco muttered. "My only safety net was Ginny getting the Ministry to show up when they did, regardless of whether or not I would get a taped confession out of Sebastian," he said flatly, a little biffed that he was reading all these waves of shock off of Harry. He had been selfless and it stunned Harry. That was mildly insulting. His actions astounded Harry to the point of dragging himself all the way out to Azkaban to see him when in ten years of his original sentence Harry had done no such thing. How little did Harry really think of him before now, even after everything he had done in the war? Had kissing Ginny truly created such a blindness in Harry, blindness due to rage and hurt, that he was unable to see him for who he truly was? Or was it Harry's pride not allowing him to admit he had been wrong, that he had had the wrong impression…perception…of him, Draco, for so long?
Draco was a mind reader, and even that wasn't enough for him to understand the inner workings of Harry Potter's mind.
"Jesus," Harry muttered.
"Will everyone stop calling me that?" Draco griped with a familiar hint of his ever-present sarcasm, his left shoulder bandaged up and arm in a sling. The bruises around his eyes from Réamann and Ron were turning green around the edges, but he wasn't allowed to be healed by magic, not until the investigation had followed through and his involvement in all matters were understood. Harry was seeing that it got done as fast as possible, but that still left Draco with a gaping wound in his shoulder and Draco felt the need to tell people that he was prone to infection. Did they not understand that filthy cells breed bacteria? Did they not realize that Lycanthropy had obliterated his immune system? It's not like he hadn't just recently spent ten years there, he couldn't imagine them forgetting the handful of times he had nearly died from the diseases that crawled around in that hellhole.
"You handled it all really well," Harry commended and Draco just humphed, trying not to think about his blood going septic again but his mind overrun with all-around cantankerous thoughts so it wasn't like he had anything more positive to fixate on at the moment.
"It wouldn't have worked at all if you weren't so ready and willing to believe the worst of me. If there was a doubt in your mind as to my guilt you wouldn't have rushed there like I knew you would."
"Draco…no…I'm sorry,"
"Yeah, yeah, you feel like an arsehole, blah, blah, blah, you are sorry...Harry, please, just save it. Get me out of here, make whatever statements you need to, to whatever people that will take the appropriate actions, and just let me be, awright? Honestly, your constant apologies are not making you or I feel better and you are wearing on my nerves," he grumbled, wanting nothing more than to go home. He would even pass up the opportunity of punching Harry Potter in the face at that moment just to be able to go home…but, since that wasn't about to happen…
While Harry was right up against the bars, looking down in his humble-shame that looked like a practiced act because Harry had never been humble or shameful before in his life, Draco pulled his right arm back and clobbered him in the face through the bars, as hard as he could. With a shout and then a groan of pain as he held his broken and bleeding nose, the Chosen-One was knocked backwards onto the damp cobblestone floor where he lay crumpled on his side.
Draco's hand really hurt as he kinda hopped there, shaking it out, but he felt better despite it.
"Don't act as though you did not have that coming, fourteen years coming," Draco warned as Harry's eyes watered, blood flowing over his mouth from his busted nose.
Draco had wanted to do that for years.
Now he was ready to go home.
Eventually, that was made a possibility.
"Are you ready to go?" Ginny asked, her voice soft and unassuming, waiting for Draco to decide and him to move when he was ready. She knew he wanted to leave that place more than anything, yet he was slow moving and lingering, and she knew that had very little to do with his hurt shoulder or weak legs. He seemed scared, and Ginny couldn't blame him, even if she did not fully understand all he was afraid of. Draco was scared of that place, but he almost seemed more afraid of the outside world, in not knowing what his reception would be, and Ginny unable to assure him one way or another could not help ease him.
"I have to do something first," Draco muttered, his voice lost to the days spent in the prison. Ginny nodded, holding her coat and Draco's in her arms, him delaying to have to put it on with his throbbing shoulder still aching. The cold-wetness of that place had set in so his whole left shoulder and side ached at the thought of moving them, let alone applying pressure. He knew it was an infection.
Draco was led out to a courtyard where it was slick with mud and smelled of foul things. He trudged through alone -even though it was exhausting to move in the sludge even for someone as able-bodied as Ginny or the guard- Ginny following at a distance wishing Draco would allow himself to lean on her for support but not even offering it, knowing he would not accept it anyways. She watched him approach a simple grave marker and stuff his right hand deep in his pocket. He thanked the man who left him there alone. Ginny wondered off at that point, wanting to give Draco some space as it started to drizzle freezing rain.
"Hi…dad," Draco muttered to the grave, back bowed forward in insecure posture, head down, hair stringing and wet. He hadn't seen or spoken to his father since before the war and hadn't been able to bear the thought of coming back to Azkaban once a free man to see him. He felt shame for that, but more so, he missed his daddy.
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January passed in a hail of unusually harsh snows and February dawned to bring calmness. The snow piled high, the trees bare and sagging under the weight of it all, the wizarding world was collecting itself as a sense of ease and peace swept over the people that had little to do with the gentler weather and everything to do with the end of the terrible attacks and the trial of one Sebastian Aurum.
"And, as the Minister of Magic, it is my privilege and great honor to reward you, Harry Potter, and you Réamann Rossiter, with the order of Merlin, Second-Class, for your outstanding courage and unrivaled selflessness!" the Minister announced loudly from the top of the stairs where a podium was set, so all gathered to witness this ceremony could hear and see them elevated as Harry and Réamann each stepped forward to receive the medal they were being offered with a bowing of their heads to accept them around their necks. They stood in Hogsmeade, an entirely magical town large enough (larger than little Diagon Alley by far) to offer a place of gathering for such an occasion.
People stood about, clapping and cheering in the cold and snow, the sun bright, as Harry and Réamann smiled their perfect public face and shook the Minister's hand. Puffs of thick purple smoke rose into the air as bright flashes, like lightning, went off, reporters getting their stories for the evening news and front-page reports.
It was all over, the investigation, the trial, the sentencing. Everyone's lives were back to normal…well, for the most part.
In the shadow of a building's overhang, far from the spectacle but the sound currying regardless, a man stood alone. Weight bared on one leg as the other was crossed at the ankle casually, a cigarette burning in his delicate fingertips of his fingerless gloves; Draco Malfoy watched the ceremony with narrowed silver eyes that almost looked too pale to be possible in the bright sunlight just edging the shadow he crept.
It didn't take long for the crowd to disperse, many gathering around Harry to congratulate him personally, some heading in out of the cold, all talking about what they had just seen that day. Réamann got several congratulations himself but was mostly pushed aside so that those could get a better look at Harry, and maybe the chance to shake his noble hand in theirs.
Réamann looked over the bustling crowd from the stairs he was atop of still, and saw Draco in the distance. He sighed with a slight smile and pushed his way to stand with him.
"Hey," he said.
"I wouldn't fret, it is impossible to compete with Potter's celebrity," Draco commented, having seen Réamann pushed aside and nearly trampled in everyone's attempts to tell Harry just how great he is.
"I don't care. I'm not looking for attention," Réamann said with a shrug, his silver medal glinting in the sunlight with that small movement.
"Order of Merlin, Second-Class," Draco said, putting his cigarette to his lips so he could free his hand to pick up Réamann's medal and look at it, tilting it in a few angles as though to inspect its quality and luster. "That's all my efforts are worth? A Second Class?" Draco muttered through his lips that held the cigarette, his left arm still in a sling.
"I'm rather happy with it. It's my first award, and I think `Réamann Rossiter, Order of Merlin, Second-Class,' has a nice ring to it," he said as Draco flung the medal into Réamann's chest a little harder than was necessary just to release it.
"Just what Potter needs, another medal, and award, and title. He needs a scroll three feet long to fit all the honors he has been given, and a room in his house just for the awards," Draco grumbled.
"We tried to see to it that you were given this same award…"
"I guess I will just have to settle for that pardon of mine," Draco said with a dreg of his cigarette.
"I wish I could have done more," he said.
"You have done enough."
"No, I really wronged you…"
"And I wronged you, in a very personal way…we are even. It all worked out in the end, you won't doubt me again-"
"No, never," Réamann assured quickly.
"And that is the best I could hope for."
"Here," Réamann said, making as though to take his medal off and offer it to Draco but Draco placing and holding his cigarette in his lips again to use his now free hand to prevent Réamann from getting as far as lifting the medal off his shoulders.
"No, you earned that, it is yours."
"You earned it," Réamann argued.
"It has your name on it, cherish it. You got that promotion I hear," Draco said conversationally, making it so Réamann could not argue further with the topic already changed.
"Yes. It is nice. My office is really posh," he said, still feeling guilty that Draco was down in the Hall of Records after all was said and done. His original promise was to get Draco out of there, and he hadn't managed that. Yes, Draco was now pardoned, so that was a bit more than he could have hoped for he supposed, but still…he felt like he didn't hold to his word. Draco deserved a promotion, but Draco seemed relatively content. That might have something to do with the fact that he had a small fortune again. Nothing comparable to that of the Malfoy estate (he hadn't gotten that back) but Réamann knew Draco had finally accepted the Black family estate from Harry, probably due to a lot of nagging from Ginny. Draco's little inheritance seemed larger than Harry had described it, however, and Réamann was suspicious of where the seemingly extra amassed wealth came from. Draco had hinted something about `extracurricular quarry' leaving him sore and Réamann had a feeling that that was Draco's well-bred and airy way of saying he had acquired the Goblin Gold Sebastian had been looking for. That would be poetically ironic, even if it had, in the end, turned out to not be as massive as first imagined. From where Draco had just come, it was more than enough apparently.
Draco was up in Hogsmeade now, so he claimed, to see Michelangelo and talk with him about moving upon his return home for the summer. Number twelve Grimmauld Place would be fixed up and ready for habitation by then.
"Thank you for addressing the media, and helping clear things so Ginny's reputation may be saved," Draco said softly then, flicking his cigarette and making a pained face, his shoulder still hurting him. His infection had gotten bad, bad enough to land him in St. Mungo's for a week, but he was on the up and up now. He was still not allowed potions because of his abuse of them in the past…or so they claimed, so healing for him was Muggle slow until he could find a Healer that wouldn't "lose" his paperwork.
"I couldn't let her get brought down by the media and be ruined for this. Not for this," he said. Réamann and gone to any and every publication he could think of, denying that Ginny had had an affair. He claimed to have been in on the ordeal from the beginning, saying that he had agreed to remain Ginny's public façade so that she and Draco could date in peace. He had saved Ginny's reputation and even managed to get her parents to speak to her again, give her a chance to explain things to them herself. Draco's first meeting with them…"the family"…was still pending, and Draco -not typically a procrastinator- was putting it off with every excuse he could amass. His current was waiting for his shoulder to heal. Ginny couldn't argue with that if every time she mentioned a family dinner Draco would act a little faint and sore. A few whimpers and some puppy-dog eyes could get her to crumple like nothing.
No one was happy that Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy were dating, but at least it was not common opinion that she was a tart. He was still a Death Eater, and dangerous werewolf as far as most were all concerned, even with his newly issued pardon, but he could live with all that, his reputation years ago having been ruined. He was thankful he had not done the same to Ginny's. He hoped to not truly be an affliction.
"Draco, just take care of her for me," Réamann said firmly, looking right at Draco then. He looked him right in the eyes, purposefully, so Draco would know all that he was feeling and know that Réamann was confident in letting Draco know his true feelings in the matter. "Don't make me regret my decision. Take care of her, and love her…for me," he said. Draco looked at him for a long moment before closing his eyes and nodding. He offered Réamann his hand to shake, which Réamann did, but Draco was surprised by Réamann pulling him into a one-armed-hug where he was then pounded on the back a few times in a very masculine form of affection.
"Ow," Draco grumbled, Réamann ignoring Draco since he was a constant bellyacher.
"Take care of yourself too, Draco," he said as Draco flicked his cigarette away.
Wondering off, Réamann left Draco alone. Had he forgiven Draco so easily? Well, he was still angry about the affair, and hurt even, but Draco had taken a bullet for him, and when a wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a powerful and undeniable bond. Réamann knew he had treated Draco poorly, not by his tactlessness, but by his reluctance to trust him. So Draco had taken his girl…he had been looking for an excuse to end this with Ginny, and Draco was the prefect…uh…scapegoat. He loved Ginny still, she was a wonderful woman, but Réamann wasn't suited for her. A year spent living with her had opened his eyes to that. They were not a match. Were she and Draco? He hoped so, for all they had been though, and had to fight through still, they deserved a little bit of stability and happiness.
Réamann, in the end, wished not only Ginny, but Draco the best.
Draco turned upon being left alone and his eyes fell on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She smiled warmly, biting her bottom lip to grin at him with flirtatious eyes, hair tossed carelessly across her forehead to burn in the sunlight.
"I love you," Draco said, pulling his redhead into a hug with his right arm and her wrapping her arms around his narrow waist firmly. Réamann got the award, Draco got the girl. Draco felt he got the sweeter deal in the end.
"I love you more," she said, making it a competition between the two of them. Who loved the other more? They were still undecided, but they would wrestle the matter out later, when they were alone.
Ginny allowed Draco to grip her hand in his as they strolled Hogsmeade together, casual and unconcerned about the continual stares and glances and whispers they got. They made their way all the way to the field on the outside of town where they could be alone and Ginny sighed.
"Something the matter?" Draco asked, gripping her hand a little tighter.
"No," she denied, snuggling her cheek against his good shoulder.
"You can't lie to me," he pointed out and she turned to bite his shoulder. "Ow, wretch," he laughed, giving her hand a squeeze that was a little tighter than was reassuring.
"You don't suppose people will ever get used to the idea that you and I are together, do you?" she asked meekly, looking across the sloping snowy hills to the mountains beyond them and taking in their beauty, glad to be able to share it with Draco, trying not to dwell on the gossip they had just had to endure while in town. Tabloids were unkind to her, a woman, in general, and though they seemed to accept Réamann's cover for what happened with her affair, there was an all new, heated attention on her that she had never experienced to such an extent before. Wizarding paparazzi everywhere she went, documenting her shopping, her clothing choices, her weight and hair-styles, telling about her day as though anyone cared, but clearly people did because they ate up the publications any and every time she or Draco (or both) were pictured on the covers. She knew it was only a matter of time before Draco's family was uncovered, and they both dreaded it, but there was something Ginny dreaded more.
"In time," Draco assured as they strolled so slowly. He feared what scrutiny he would have to endure once it is made known he became a father at eighteen, that he had a wife, who his wife was and her story, and just the overall circumstances of how things unfolded for him. It was really, quite sensational, even for a tabloid. Draco knew the next few months were going to be full of fretful nights and irritable days.
"Good," Ginny said simply, "Because I'm pregnant," she revealed, Draco stopping in his tracks, leaving him to fall behind as Ginny continued to walk. She paused just a few steps away to turn back and look at him as he stared at her with wide eyes.
"What?" he gaped.
~~~THE END~~~
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A final cliffy to close this fic up. I'm evil.
We all got what we wanted, right? Draco is pardoned, he has money again (though he is not ubber-rich like he once was), he got to talk to his daddy, Harry is revealed to be the world's biggest dingbat but seemingly sincerely remorseful, Réamann proves himself to be a decent guy, Sebastian gets what's coming to him, and Draco has managed to get Ginny preggers!! *pats Draco on the back proudly* Draco doesn't have the Manor back, or a wand, and his job still sucks, as does his reputation…but hey, I have two more fics to write, stuff can still happen!!
THE SEQUEL'S TITLE IS FALLEN ANGEL
http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/7857
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