THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO "Blue-eyed Angel" DO NOT READ THIS WITHOUT HAVING FIRST READ THAT!
Fallen Angel
Chapter One
"Why are you here?" the man asked, voice so deep and smooth it was consoling. He spoke slowly, but with a certainty, not like he was trying to be understood, but to imply that his question required a certain amount of consideration. He had one of those voices that made you think and reflect. He could have read out of the phonebook and made it sound insightful and thought provoking.
Draco sat with his arms crossed over his chest in a very pouting gesture, right leg crossed over his left so that his ankle rested on his knee. He was on a leather couch, facing the downy-voiced man, the only other person in the room, and looked rather cantankerous as well as mistrustful. The room was small, and looked like a study; books all around. His couch was a deep red leather dulled from age, the rug was ornate but predominantly burgundy, and the wood in the room was of a cherry finish. All that with the summer light shining in through the partially parted red curtains of the small window, Draco felt like he was trapped in the Gryffindor common room, complete with a carved lion bust on the large desk to his right.
Draco, unwilling to be cooperative, did not ponder on the man's question, not even for a moment, but just answered minimally, bluntly, resisting the man's power of self-reflection.
"My girlfriend wanted me to come," he said simply, not sounding or looking too friendly or happy with that fact. Draco had a way of glaring that could cause even the fiercest of Manticores to back down with stinging tail between legs, but the man before him seemed unaffected, and that infuriated him to a degree beyond annoyance. This man did not fear him, was not intimidated. He was the first Draco had met in a long while, and normally he would have appreciated the man's forbearance, but today it annoyed him. He wanted to be feared today, for once, and for once, he was not. Oh the irony.
"You do not want to be here?" the man asked, not affected or deterred in any way by Draco's coldness and asking a question that was more of a statement than anything.
"No."
"Why not? Do you not trust me?"
"I don't trust anyone."
"You trust your girlfriend," the man pointed out though posing it a little like a question. He had a way of making questions seem like statements and vice versa. He was playing mind games with Draco, but Draco was smarter than this, he could see through the man's tactics.
"As much as I am willing to trust anyone," he said, not wanting to be lead into some sort of trap where he would be forced to admit something terribly personal to the man, the stranger.
"And that's more than you trust me, someone that has never done you wrong."
"Yet," Draco quipped, letting his jaded nature show through. That was why he was here after all, and the man had a way of drawing out his honest feelings. He supposed, that being the man's job, he would be good at it. For what he was paying, the good doctor better be good at it.
"You don't know me," the doctor objected smoothly, still not offended, but looking…concerned? He was writing notes down but maintaining very sincere eye-contact. Draco thought he could use that to his advantage at first, until he realized the man was well-trained in Occlumency. Of course.
"I don't have to, humans are all the same."
"Are you talking to me as a werewolf, or just making a generalized conjecture on the entirety of the human race as a means to prove a point?"
"I do not like being psychoanalyzed," he barked, glaring at the man.
"Then why come and see me, a psychoanalyst? Why agree to sessions if you do not trust or particularly like the idea of counseling, or me?" the man asked, taking more notes.
"Because my girlfriend asked me to…"
"As you have said already. You do not feel you need therapy?"
"No."
"You feel you are well-adjusted, content, and sound of mind?"
"You disagreeing?" Draco scathed. He knew everyone thought him mental, one Bludger short of a Quidditch game, that he was not dealing with a full deck of tarot cards, a few Butterbeers short of a six-pack, that he Flooed with a clogged chimney…or whatever. He was aware of himself enough to know he was not the most adjusted of persons, but he was not crazy. If he was, he would know…right? An irritating and persistent little voice in the back of his mind, however, pointed out that to be crazy one cannot realize they are crazy, and it is the total normalcy of their crazy actions that attests to their utter lunacy. That, and hearing voices. The little voice implicated itself then and Draco hushed it up by closing it off with his mental barricades, not about to analyze himself when he was paying the man across from him to do that already.
"Well, looking at what you have written in our letters as to how you are feeling, what I know about you already, and what you have shown thus far, you demonstrate a lot of symptoms of repression, and issues with anger," the man said so calmly.
"I'm not angry, I'm bitter," Draco corrected.
"And that's better how?"
"Bitterness and resentment are justified and are an end result of something…anger is just a means of deal with it all."
"I know you are very intelligent, and intelligent people often reject this kind of help, feeling they don't need someone to point out the obvious to them, to tell them how they are feeling when they already know how they feel," he said and Draco just looked away, rather than at the notebook where the man was writing, something he had been staring at for the last dozen minutes or so. He wanted to know what the man was writing about him. Was it bad? Was he saying he was hopeless, that he couldn't be helped? Not that Draco wanted the help, but he didn't want to be dismissed as a hopeless case either. He was kind of worried that if the man helped him he would be unable to deny that he is a little barmy any longer, but if the man rejected him, said he was a lost cause, that it would establish more than anything just how mental he is.
There seemed no way out of this office without being written off as mental. Draco's right knee started to bounce slightly.
"But I hope to make a connection with you, Draco. I want to get to know you, and see if I can't help you -well- resolve some of these issues you bear."
"Issues?"
"I reviewed your file," he said, not allowing Draco's indignant question stumble him. Draco took a deep breath and held it. "You had a full psychological profile done by the psychiatric ward in St Mungo's upon probation three and a half years ago, when you filed for full custody and legal guardianship of your children," he said, flipping through the papers inside the hefty file, Draco looking at them, wanting to know what they said exactly. "The results were…saddening."
"Everyone thinks I'm mental," Draco growled.
"You are wrong, Draco, very wrong. I do not feel you are mental, not in the least," he assured.
"Then why do you think I need to be here?"
"You don't have to be a loon to see a therapist, Draco. We are just here to listen, to give advice, to allow our patients to vent out frustrations and explore feelings so they can on their own -with minimal guidance from us- come to realizations, so that they can move on past portions of their lives they had been dwelling on."
"I do not dwell, I analyze and I move on-"
"No, you deny, then repress," the man refuted. "Your file says that you suffered from reoccurring and often violent nightmares while in Azkaban-"
"Which is to be expected of anyone that has been there," Draco snapped.
"And shows you likely suffer from post-traumatic stress," he pressed on, ignoring Draco, or at least not responding to what he said. He just wrote something down on his notepad.
"That file was made by people who hate me and want to-"
"And paranoia," the man continued, looking up at Draco over his glasses. Draco was shut up by that for a moment.
"I am not paranoid."
"Draco, not everyone is out to get you, or to manipulate circumstances so as to ruin your life."
"That has not been my experience," Draco grumbled.
"That's why I want you here, I think you need to talk about your experiences, and maybe come to understand why."
"Why what?"
"Why things happened to you."
"I know why."
"You think you know why."
"Do not try and mess with my head, I can see into everyone's thoughts, I can see their intentions, I know what they are trying to do, I know what you are trying to do," he accused. "Where people with paranoia think people are thinking bad things about them, I know they are. There's a difference."
The man sighed and pulled his glasses away from his face.
"Draco, I wanted to get a few sessions in before I brought this up."
"Brought what up?"
"Your Legilimency."
"What does me being a Legilimens have to do with anything?" Draco demanded. A Legilimens was a witch or wizard that was skilled in Legilimency and it literally meant "reader" and "mind" in Latin. Draco had learned Occlumency when he was sixteen from his Aunt Bella and had quickly advanced to become a very skilled Occlumens, capable of keeping not only Severus Snape but Lord Voldemort out of his mind. He then, however, graduated to learning Legilimency so as to understand better what everyone's intentions were during all the fighting, and mastered it while in prison for ten years since no wand was required for that particular field of magic. Draco was one of the most skilled Legilimens and Occlumens in the world, definitely in the UK now that Dumbledore, Snape, his aunt Bella, and the Dark Lord were all dead, and it infuriated him that he could not use such a hard-earned skill against the man before him.
"It leads to a lot of issues, but I wanted to first ask you about your family."
"What about my family? What issues are you talking about?"
"In your family history, is there any occurrence of…"
"What?"
"Schizophrenia?"
"What?" Draco demanded, not shouting but looked insulted.
"You demonstrate a lot of the symptoms…I mean…impairment in your perception of reality, hallucinations, paranoid and bizarre delusions, disorganized speech and thinking, all that has lead to significant social and occupational dysfunction. …"
"I'm not crazy," Draco growled.
"I know, Draco, I'm not saying you are, but Legilimency is a double-edged sword and often leaves the user prone to certain…disorders."
"Disorders," Draco repeated flatly as though amused but it clearly done in a dry and mocking way.
"Draco, I'm not your enemy here. I'm not out to trick you in to exposing anything to be used against you later. This meeting is confidential, and I only wish to help you. Your girlfriend is worried?" he asked.
"She doesn't think I am happy," Draco grumbled. He was not schizophrenic, those people heard voices, and did crazy shit. Okay, so he heard voices, but he didn't do the crazy shit they suggest…not recently at least.
"Are you happy?" he asked, still writing notes.
"Yes," Draco said simply, the lie so plain even he could recognize it.
"You are expecting a baby," he said.
"I know I am."
"This excite you?"
"Sometimes."
"An honest answer finally. Very good. Why only sometimes?" the man asked, wishing to move past their little hiccup in their conference. He would visit back with Draco on his concerns about his psyche later, first he wanted to build a bit of trust between them, so Draco would be willing to come back. He knew enough from what he had seen of Draco already in this first hour, that Draco was extremely defensive and if he insulted him (yes, Draco would take being analyzed as a paranoid schizophrenic as insulting) he would not come back, and reject any further help, and he seriously needed it.
"Because sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I feel guilty."
"Because this baby will be a werewolf, like yourself," he said and Draco nodded mutely. "And you feel responsible?"
"It's not Ginny's fault," Draco said, sounding annoyed. He was a werewolf, had been since sixteen when Greyback -on the Dark Lord's orders- attacked and infected him…nearly killed him, actually. Draco's left side of his body and left arm were horribly scarred as a result, thus why he was not a short-sleeve wearing sort of chap despite the summer heat.
"But you can hardly blame yourself either."
"Then who else is there to blame?" Draco demanded. He had never infected anyone in all the years he had suffered from the condition, but his children inherited it from him. He felt terrible guilt for that, even though his children didn't seem to resent him for it…there was still time. They were still young. He knew, given a few years of being treated like vermin, and facing the sort of bigotry he himself once shelled out, they would grow bitter, and the thought of that broke his heart.
"Must there always be someone to blame, someone to exemplify, to throw your hate at? For someone that has suffered as a scapegoat so that the general magical world would have someone to hate, and blame after the war, you certainly don't seem to have a problem with looking for a scapegoat of your own when faced with all your problems. I think Harry Potter is your favorite, correct?"
"I was thrown into Azkaban for ten years because people wanted a scoundrel to punish since the Dark Lord was dead. My hatred of Harry Potter is non-comparable, he is not innocent of guilt like I was. Potter really is the root of most of my problems." Draco argued.
"Even your Lycanthropy?"
"If Potter had never had my father thrown into Azkaban, the Dark Lord never would have been so angered as to send Greyback to my home and attack me as punishment for…"
"It never crossed your mind that it is possibly your father's fault he wound up in Azkaban, and not Harry Potters?"
"You saying I should hate my father?" Draco barked, not about to do that. He loved his father, idolized him. He wanted to be as noble and strong as his father had been, but somehow always fell short, disappointing himself, and his father for sure if he were still alive.
"No…Draco, can't you see? You are looking for someone to blame…"
"I am not."
"You blame and hate yourself, feeling guilt for passing on a deplorable condition onto your children, when it's not fair of you to be so harsh. You did not choose this."
"Should I hate Greyback? He's dead, I killed him," Draco snapped defensively, throwing that harsh truth out there. He had kind of, sort of, admitted to Ginny back in January that he hated himself, during one of his emotionally unstable moments when he was lost and unsure what to do and had turned to Ginny for comfort. Telling her such a revealing truth was "great" for their bonding because she felt it showed he trusted her, but it was what got him into all this mess. He had never been that honest with himself, and yet he had blurted all that out to Ginny. It was all evidence to the fact that she made him feel safe, safe enough to divulge such an embarrassing little fact, now she was using that to force him into therapy. Women were evil.
"Draco," the good doctor sighed. "You can't find someone to blame for every problem in the world. There isn't always someone to blame, and seeking out someone whose actions through a chain result could have caused it, doesn't leave them responsible."
"If you inadvertently cause another person's death through your own negligence you are guilty of involuntary manslaughter," Draco pointed out.
"Draco, I see you trying to rationalize the way you view the world, but you have to understand is you are not seeing things rational to begin with."
"You are fishing."
"Of course I am, that is what I do, I lour out your feelings. How are you feeling right now?"
"Angry."
"In your own words, anger is just a means of dealing with other legitimate emotions…so I ask again, how are you feeling?" the doctor asked after having looked down at his notebook and Draco opened his mouth while glaring at the man, infuriated that his own logic was being twisted around and used against him.
"Scared," he admitted, looking away.
"What are you afraid of?" the doctor asked, voice so smooth and understanding, the voice that induced self-reflection.
-----------------------
"How did your first session with Dr. Valensclaro go? Did you like him?" Ginny asked brightly upon Draco returning home. She never, in her wildest dreams, would have thought she would think of number twelve Grimmauld Place as "home", but then again, if you had told her a few months ago that she would be with Draco Malfoy, carrying his child, she would have said the same. Oh how much had changed.
"He wanted me to talk about my feelings," Draco drawled, wiggling his long, thin fingers in the air with that last word for emphasis of his irritation, not greeting his pregnant girlfriend with a kiss like he normally did so she knew he was grumpy and was determined to amend that.
"Did you?" she asked, walking over to him, her belly preceding her a little.
"A little bit."
"Will you continue to go see him?" she asked, inserting her arms between his and his sides so she could hug him with her belly between them.
"If it makes you happy," he said.
"I want this to make you happy, that's the whole point of it," she pouted.
"I already have something that makes me happy," he replied softly, pulling back a little so as to place his hands on her swollen tummy and smile warmly. His baby had just taken to moving around called "quickening". He was more excited over this than Ginny, however. If it were his bladder the baby was dancing on while keeping him up for hours at a time at night, he supposed he would be a little less thrilled too. Ginny's morning sickness still hadn't totally eased like Hermione's had either, and she was a little disgruntled about that as well. Apparently that is relatively normal and many women experience it into as late as their seventh month if not the whole way through, but Ginny, with her backaches and swollen ankles, was not comforted by Draco's attempts to tell her she was experiencing things that were to be expected. Ginny had expected herself to be one of those round-jolly-pregnant ladies, and instead she was one of the waddling cranky ones. Even Molly was surprised by that.
"I just worry about you," she said, leaning against his chest while closing her eyes, hugging him tenderly.
"You shouldn't," he assured, never wanting to make her worry or fret.
Life had changed, dramatically, in six months. It was June and Ginny was six months pregnant and struggling to hide it still. It was becoming increasingly difficult as she had taken to being quite large very quickly. She was not "huge" by any means, (despite how she went on about it) but she was larger than Hermione who was a whole month ahead of her, and it was unmistakable: Ginny was pregnant. She was past that "fat" stage where one could kind of tell but it could still just be her putting on weight. Ginny had hated that part, not being as thin as she used to be in the first place, and not happy with gaining more. She made a point of hitting Draco frequently for making her fat. He took the abuse well.
The family certainly knew about the pregnancy. There was no way to hide it from them. It had been February when Ginny told Draco, and he hadn't at that point officially -as Ginny's boyfriend- met with her family yet. He had still needed to talk to them about his relationship with their only girl, but then it became so much more than that. Suddenly it wasn't just him telling them "yeah, I love your daughter and I am dating her," it was "yeah, I love your daughter, and she is moving in with me because I impregnated her."
Draco could remember that first meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley distinctly. Though that day was long past and the family was considerably more supportive, it still gave him a queasy stomach to rival Ginny's…
"Ginny, I really don't want to tell your parents that we have been dating for just over two months and that you are, incidentally, just over two months pregnant. They hate me enough already without reason, why give them one?" Draco beseeched, following Ginny around his apartment, trying to plead his case as she readied to head out to see her parents.
"Draco, they are going to find out one way or another, sooner or later, and no, they will not be happy, but if you own up to it upfront they will…given time…respect you for it. If you try to hide it they will think you a sneaky, cowardly, creep and be that much more unhappy about this baby," she said forcefully, not looking at Draco because she knew he had his most piteous "please don't do this to me" face on and she would struggle to say no to him if she looked into those big pouting eyes. He was a manipulative bastard that way.
"They already think I'm cowardly and sneaky and a creep," he argued, not liking that no amount of pouting was working. This wasn't right, he wasn't getting his way…he didn't know what to do. If this were his mother he would already have his way and be getting ice cream on top of that for having been so upset. What did he have to do, hold his breath until she gave in? He hadn't done that since he was a boy, but it always produced favorable results…he might try it…
"No sense in cementing that opinion in them then," she said with a "that is that" tone that gave Draco the distinct impression that he had just lost but he wasn't about to give up, not just yet.
"If we tell them about this baby, the topic will undoubtedly focus on me, and what will we tell them, that I'm already a father of two? That will go over well," he grumbled. Yeah, he was already a father, a father thanks to a different woman. He had a son named Michelangelo, and a daughter named Clarissa. They were very precious to him, and they were twelve and eleven years old. He being thirty meant Michelangelo was born when he was eighteen. Surprise. No one really knew he was a father, he had been in Azkaban at the time of their conception and birth and he was able to keep it on the down-low thanks to the guards being understanding, but he knew he couldn't keep his babies secret forever with everyone abuzz over his and Ginny's relationship, and undoubtedly soon about their child.
"I can't see why not, my parents love kids," Ginny argued.
"No, they love Weasley kids, not Malfoy kids. They won't like that I was married before anymore than they are with you."
"It's different for you…your wife passed away, I got divorced. They can't fault you for that," Ginny argued. She had married Harry Potter after the war. She had been young and sort of pushed into it by everyone just expecting the two of them to be together. She had thought she loved him, and would learn to love him in a way that would give her this overwhelming feeling that she couldn't live without him, but that never came, never happened. Five years of struggling and fights ended in a divorce that her parents had never forgiven her for.
"But they can fault me for being so young, and for marrying my wife because she was pregnant. They are going to think I'm some sort of serial-impregnator."
"They will not."
"Will to," he argued back in a child-like manner. He had met his wife when he was seventeen and fresh to Azkaban. She had been his only cell-block mate and considerably older than him. Because they had fooled around, she had found herself pregnant despite the fact that he had offered her his virginity. It was kind of embarrassing, and it would certainly not cast a kind light on him as far as Ginny's parents were concerned. "And they will ask me if I'm going to marry you now, and they are going to certainly push the idea no matter how much they hate me, because they can't have their baby girl giving birth to a bastard."
"I'm not about to get bullied into marrying anyone again so don't worry about that. As far as this baby is concerned," she said, placing her hand on her still inconspicuous stomach. "Call him or her a bastard, but he or she will have a mother and a father, and I won't let my parent's chase you off if you but stop procrastinating and see them with me," she scolded. Draco knew he was losing, and badly, he had only one last defense.
"But my shoulder is awfully sore," he started to complain, holding it gingerly as he curled his left arm up against his chest. He had caught a bullet with his left shoulder but a month before, lapsed into a nasty infection, and was only just recently on the up and up, but that didn't stop him from playing up the injury whenever it suited him or the situation.
"Oh, no starting with that again. You won't need your arm to talk to my parents…no, don't look at me like that," she said firmly, daring to look at him and shaking her head while pointing at him.
Ginny had her coat on, and little pot of Floo Powder in hand already and Draco sighed and accepted defeat. She won…this time.
"Let me throw on something nicer," he said, moping the whole way to his room to put on a nice pair of black jeans that were rather tight, and a pale blue dress shirt that could not hide how thin he was, tucked or untucked. He was a tad on the emaciated side, but Ginny was seeing to it that he put on some weight. He was still less than a buck-twenty soaking wet, but he was also only five foot eight and some change, so he was just petite all around. His father had been a strapping six feet tall, but Draco resembled more his mother: willowy and pointed. He told himself it was because of the Lycanthropy he contracted when he was sixteen stunting his growth that made him that way, not that he carried more of the Black family traits. He looked a lot like his father, however. He had his eyes, and his jaw…and hairline.
Pulling on his coat, Draco looked more like he was going to work than anything, but he wanted to look nice for Ginny's parents. Maybe it would prevent him from getting hit…too much.
Draco followed after Ginny using Floo. His little Muggle apartment had only recently been added to the Floo Network. He had been exiled from the magical community after his probation from Azkaban, well, technically before…when he was thrown in, but upon release was when it became an issue. His wand had been destroyed, he couldn't do magic, or purchase or obtain potions or potion ingredients, travel by Floo or acquire Portkeys…he had been forced to live like a Muggle for three years but he was now pardoned -thanks to a little heroism on his part, and a few words on Harry Potter's- and he was technically allowed to use magic, but now Draco tended to refrain. He wasn't fully qualified, so he wasn't allowed a wand, so any magic he could do legally would be rather pathetic and seem almost insulting in it limitedness.
Ginny went first, so that Draco Malfoy didn't burst into the Burrow unexpected, and she was already deeply in conversation with her mother by the time Draco spun into view, stepping out of the fireplace to brush soot off his coat. Draco may have been thirteen years isolated from the magical community, but he could recall enough to know the Weasleys really needed to clean their chimney; one shouldn't emerge from the hearth looking like they had been rolling around in the soot pan.
"Oh, so here he is," said Mrs. Weasley, not exactly being mean, but far from friendly at the same time, her normally joyful round face set hard and serious.
"Hello, ma'm," Draco said, inclining his head respectively towards the woman, his platinum hair slipping forwards from over his shoulders. It was long, about to the center of his back, so it normally stayed out of his way on its own but for when he leaned forward.
"Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Weasley said, stepping into the kitchen then, Draco spinning but not too quickly so as to come across as nervous as he was. He smiled, not too confidently so that it became his trademark smirk and he look arrogant, but not so meekly that he looked scared. Maybe he was thinking abut this too much. What would happen if he just relaxed? He would slip into old habits and be condescending and that would get him walloped over the head. Not a good idea. "Ginny wrote us that she would be bringing you over, but that was nearly two weeks ago. We had nearly given up on you," he said, looking as though he would have liked nothing more than to give up on him and never had him mentioned again. Arthur Weasley had gone bald at some point, but the fact that he was once a redhead was not lost for his eyebrows and full beard were still ginger as were the freckles that dusted his aging skin. Molly Weasley looked much the same she always had: stout and pump. But her red hair had a liberal streak of grey in it, and her face was not as full as it used to be.
"That is entirely my fault, I'm sorry," Draco said, accepting Mr. Weasley's hand to shake with humble confidence. "With everything that happened these past two months, I had a lot to sort through with my personal and professional life."
"You couldn't make time for your in-laws?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her indignation showing through.
"Draco and I are not married," Ginny pointed out.
"By and by," Mrs. Weasley brushed off, doing so with a wave of her hand in the air. "We had you here for Christmas, and we made such a poor impression on you with the hospitality you were shown that you dreaded coming back?" she asked, it now obvious why she was so affronted. She prided herself in her hospitality and generosity given her meager upbringing. Draco had been invited over for Christmas Draco's apparent refusal to come by again after that seemed to imply that he had detested his first visit.
"No, No ma'm, I enjoyed myself immensely and your hospitality was top notch, as was your cooking, I just…"
"He has been busy, like he said," Ginny interrupted, giving her mother a look to tell her with no words spoken to not make things difficult.
"Well, let's not just stand here in the kitchen," Arthur then said, waving his hand for them all to join him in the sitting room. Molly followed and Draco lingered for Ginny's hand to join with his before they moved together to sit with her parents.
There they were, sitting in awkward silence, each waiting for someone else to speak first, all not enjoying themselves but none willing to leave. Draco sat on the couch with Ginny, Molly in her knitting chair by the small fireplace and the tuner, and Arthur in the beaten recliner with the lamp for reading the paper. The Weasleys were considerably older than Draco's mother. His mother had been nineteen when she had him, Ginny had been the last one born to already aging parents. They lived like a very content older couple, and Draco felt very much so out of place in the mismatched sitting room with the three redheads.
"Well," Ginny said, breaking the silence at last. "This is lovely. I knew it would be since everything went really smoothly at Christmas-"
"Because none of us were aware you and Draco were secretly seeing each other at the time. I suppose that was why you had Reamann invite him," Molly said, almost a little harsh. Ginny and Draco flushed.
Their cover story was that she and Draco had been seeing each other in secret, with Ginny's then boyfriend Reamann Rossiter in on it as their cover…but the truth was Ginny had had an affair and it was only Draco stopping a bullet meant for Reamann with his shoulder that got the other man to forgive him, slightly, so as to lie for Ginny and deny she had had an affair, so her parents would speak to her again.
"Well, naturally we were worried about your, uh, reaction if you were to find out," Ginny flustered.
"Well, it was surprising to hear to say the least, and I'm a little hurt that it has taken you this long, Draco, to come to us. It is already halfway into February and everyone learned of yours and Ginny's romance in early January," Molly said.
"Yes, well," Ginny cut in, Draco not having said a word since sitting. "Life has been busy for us. You know Draco just acquired number twelve from Harry?" she asked, trying to make conversation.
"Yes, it really is good of Harry to give up such a mass of gold and that house to Draco," Arthur said curtly, Molly nodding, there being no grater man than Harry in her eyes.
"Well, technically, all that would be Draco's," Ginny started to say but Molly cut her off.
"Sirius was the last son of Black, and he left his things to Harry, not Draco."
"Harry feels Draco deserves it more," Ginny said, trying not to sound heated like her mother but her brow frowning in irritation.
"He would, he is just so good," Molly gushed, always getting a dreamy twinkle in her eyes when talking about Harry Potter. Draco managed to not gag but had to look away, his eyes certainly not friendly. Harry had given him the Black inheritance out of pity, and out of guilt. He had refused the gold more than once but finally accepted it at Ginny's insistence, her using his children against him: saying they deserved the life the gold would offer them. Draco didn't think Harry was all that "good", in fact, he knew him not to be all that "good", but if he wanted the Weasleys to like him, or at least tolerate his presence amongst them, he couldn't let his detestation for The Chosen One be verbalized.
"Don't you agree, Draco?" Molly added, as though knowing Draco's true feelings and daring him to disagree. Draco took a deep breath and held it, looking right at the woman with a kind mask in place, nodding with a very closed-mouth smile. Bugger the woman; she was trying to get him to stumble and say something regrettable.
The conversation carried on much that way for nearly fifteen minutes, Molly and Ginny talking in this sort of false civility that was so obvious that Draco couldn't understand why they were pretending to not be fighting at all. His mother did this, talked curtly and overly politely when she was actually livid, and Draco was shocked to see Molly do the same. Maybe it wasn't an upper crust thing like he had always assumed, maybe it was just a woman thing.
"You don't talk much, do you," Arthur said to Draco at that moment, having studied Draco in his silence for the last couple of minutes. He took in Draco's pin-thin appearance and knew he was a werewolf and assumed that was the cause behind that, he took in Draco's long sleek hair and assumed he was simply styling himself after his father…for whatever reason, but took in his meek quietness and was unable to understand it. He had not spent more than a handful on minutes in the presence of the boy in the past but could recall him being arrogant, and boastful. If it weren't for the classic and distinctive Malfoy looks, he wouldn't have recognized the man now before him.
Ginny looked to Draco, as did Molly, and Draco looked around to each them quickly, unsure of what he was to say to that. He just hadn't felt there was anything he could say that would add to the conversation so that he may be actively engaged in it. That and he was, actually, rather quiet nowadays.
"Azkaban can do that to a person," Ginny interjected, saying a lot more than why Draco was rather quiet. She was reminding her father that Draco had spent ten years in that place, as an innocent man no less, and so he had earned a little respect. Even if Draco hadn't been innocent, Azkaban changes people, and that was what she was implying more than anything since she doubted her parents believed Draco was truly innocent…so few did.
The conversation moved on, and on, touching here and there on some personal matters but mostly staying on casual topics of gossip and others' affairs. Harry and Hermione were getting married, once Hermione gave birth that is. Yes, Hermione was pregnant too, only about a month further along that Ginny, and it was Harry's baby. No one had known the two were together until Hermione announced she was pregnant, and yet the family still felt they could cast stones at Draco and Ginny for keeping their relationship on the down-low. Harry had proposed just last week. Now there were months of planning and preparation and Ginny wouldn't have minded the topic of babies and marriage if it didn't strike home so strongly for her and Draco.
"So, you have a new place to stay yet?" Arthur asked his daughter. She had been living with her boyfriend Reamann for a year, but now that they were no longer together, Ginny was looking for a new place. What her family did not know was that she and Draco had been shacking up. Supposedly, Ginny was staying with Tonks and Lupin, the happy couple willing to be Draco and Ginny's cover until they worked up the nerve to tell the family the truth. Draco was thankful that his cousin was so supportive, because without her, he would have had no one.
"Uh, well," Ginny said, looking at Draco who squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Actually, yes," she said, sounding rather bright and pleased with herself. She was going to say it, she was going to tell her parents that she was living with Draco and they were going to accept it. She just had to deliver it in a positive way and they would see how happy she is and be happy for her. Draco knew what Ginny was thinking, Legilimency handy in situations like this, and he thought she was mental for believing her parents would be happy. He would hope for furious over ravenous and even then he felt he was being overly optimistic.
"Where? Is it nice?" Molly asked and Draco flushed a little. His apartment was not nice, not even close. It was a rundown old Muggle apartment in the poorest district of London. It was leaky, cold, predominantly burnt orange and olive green colored, and the power went out if more than three appliances and five lights were on, but it was the best he had been able to afford after leaving Azkaban. His apartment was only temporary at this point, now that he had Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He would fix it up and move in there with Ginny…but somehow he didn't think her parents would be elated over that.
"Well, it's a home, you know? Welcoming and warm…with a lot of character," she said, Draco smiling softly. It wasn't much of a house, but it certainly was a home. He liked that. And "character" was one way of saying it was "old and ugly".
"Where?" Arthur asked. Ginny and Draco looked at each other, then at her parents and Arthur and Molly, not being dumb people, were able to put two and two together.
"What? No, absolutely not!" she bellowed, Arthur not one to yell but certainly looking more than willing to once his wife was hoarse.
"Mum, Mum, please, I am a grown woman," Ginny tried to argue over her mother's loud protests, Draco remaining still under Arthur's angry glare.
"You two cannot live together, I will not have it!"
"You were happy to hear Reamann and I were moving in!"
"You two had been dating for two years! We liked Reamann-"
"Meaning you don't like Draco?"
"It is not a matter of my liking or disliking him, it is a matter of reputation! You barely escaped being labeled a tramp just a month ago! Now you will throw away all that you managed to maintain by moving in with, with-"
"Me?" Draco asked, finally speaking for the first time since their introductions, saving Molly from having to come up with a pronoun to use that would likely have been harsh.
"How are you going to provide for her?" Molly demanded and Draco managed to not glare.
"I do not need to be taken care of, mother," Ginny barked. That was her biggest problem with Harry; he wanted her to be some sort of delicate flower that needed sheltering, his damsel in distress that needed protecting that he could be the shinning knight for. It had driven her mad with his unnecessary valor, driven her away with his desperate need for attention. Draco wasn't like that, he wasn't a knight. He said himself he was more of a dragon: protective and not quite as overbearing and noble to point of idiocy like a courageous knight. He mostly growled and blew a lot of smoke. She adored Draco's sense of humor.
"I am more than capable of providing for her, if that is what you are worried about. I have been on the downs for a while, but I have some gold now, and I have a home I can fix up and live…"
"You mean to take my daughter to that horrible place?" Arthur asked, having spent plenty of time in number twelve and not thinking too highly of it.
"It is my family's home and though it does need work, it is a beautiful house and…"
"I won't have you living with him!" Molly shouted over Draco's soft voice.
"Mother, I do not need your permission, and I would have hoped you would support me in this!"
"Support you? Support you while you date…him?"
"I'm sitting right here," Draco gripped, this not the first time a Weasley spoke of him in such a derogatory why as he sat right there in their presence, able to hear them.
"Don't say `him' like that. He is a good man, and a good boyfriend!" Ginny barked, coming to Draco's defense. Draco felt a swell of gratitude for that, but guilt at the same time. He didn't want to pin Ginny in the middle and leave her but one choice: him or her family. That wasn't fair. He didn't want her family to fall apart over this, because of him.
"I had hoped you would get over this, this, phase…"
"Phase?"
"This bad-boy phase…not move in with this Malfoy."
"This is not a phase and he is not a bad-boy! You don't know him! You need to give him a chance, he is a good guy."
"You are to move in with him, so that means I can no longer humor the idea that you are not sleeping with him?" Molly sniped and Draco and Ginny both looked at her with slightly widened eyes and looked down at their respective laps. Their response was plain enough to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and they both stared for a moment before both shouting, their words milling and overpowering each other so what exactly they were saying was lost but the gist was not hard to grasp, and that was their complete outrage that their daughter has had sex with Draco Malfoy.
Draco sat there, swallowing hard the lump in his throat that just plopped into his queasy stomach and left it unsettled. This was not a promising start into the topic of Ginny being pregnant. If they didn't like that they had done the deed, they won't like the result of that deed any more.
"Mum, Dad, please, STOP!" Ginny yelled, covering her ears but her parents each still going on like a pair of Howler letters about how they had raised her, what was acceptable and what wasn't, and just how despicable the Malfoy family was. Ginny felt her chest clamp up tight as she squeezed her eyes shut, and she wasn't sure if she said it as much as screamed it, but "I'm pregnant," blurted out of her and the words were able to stop the Weasleys instantly.
Ginny took advantage of the momentary silence, the only chance she feared she would get to explain.
"I'm pregnant. About two months along," she confessed and Draco sat still as a rabbit in the sights of a predator as Arthur rounded his eyes on him. "I'm moving in with Draco, and I'm going to help him with restoring Grimmauld Place, to prepare for the baby," she said, now waiting for the real fallout to begin. When shouting didn't commence immediately, she looked up from her lap where her hands were balled up in the material of her skirt, and she was able to take the horror of her mother's face in, and the anger of her father's.
"Dad, please," Ginny begged but Arthur stood very quickly and Draco winced as the man's arm lunged at him. Draco was not hit, however, like he was expecting, Arthur grabbing his shirt by the shoulder and collar and pulling Draco standing very roughly.
"Arthur," Molly called, though not as though she was concerned over Draco's welfare. Ginny was doing that enough for the both of them.
"Dad, stop!" Ginny yelled as Arthur dragged Draco by the shirt and tossed him out onto the back porch. Draco didn't have anything to say, and wasn't given a chance even if he did because Arthur slammed the door on him immediately as Draco stumbled to not fall.
"Dad!"
"You can't be, you need to see a Healer and…"
"I already did. I went to see Hermione," she said, Hermione being a head Healer at St. Mungo's and someone she trusted to guard this secret. "I took the test, and it is positive."
"No…I mean, surely the baby is Reamann's," Molly said, almost begging it to be so. Ginny looked at her mother and shook her head, feeling like she was about to cry. She wasn't crying for the shame of it all, she wasn't crying because her parents were furious, she was crying because they hated Draco so much.
"Ginny," Arthur said, looking at his daughter.
"Please, this is your first time meeting Draco; don't let it be like this. He isn't going anywhere, not now, not with a baby on the way. You could have tried to bully him and me apart if that weren't so, but it is, it is so, I am pregnant. He is determined to be here, for me, and this baby, even if you don't approve, but he is afraid of you…and knows just how important my family is to me and doesn't want to ruin that. You have him feeling terrible because he thinks he has put me in the position to choose between him and you."
Arthur looked furious, and torn between scolding his daughter, choking the life out of Draco for having touched her, and comforting his little girl for having made her feel like the family was rejecting her. That was something Weasleys didn't do. They were not like that, they were not like the Blacks, or the Malfoys, rejecting their relations that strayed from what they felt was "acceptable marrying material." Andromeda Black, Draco's aunt, had married a Muggle-born Wizard and was disowned from the family as a result. How could he, and his family, look down on such a thing while doing basically the same? Arthur sighed at his own hypocrisy. He opened the door and stepped out without a word, leaving Molly and Ginny to try and talk things through while he confronted the werewolf that he had just tossed out of his house.
Draco, upon hearing the door open, turned and paled when he saw that it was Arthur stepping out.
"Mr. Weasley, please, don't…" he attempted to say but Arthur holding his hand up to cut Draco off caused him to flinch like he was expecting to be hit and that stopped Arthur for a moment. Draco slowly looked back up at the man after the hit didn't come and Arthur took a deep cleansing breath before speaking.
"Draco," he said, looking right at him. "You must forgive my, uh, initial reaction. This was not very fair of me," he said and Draco blinked at him.
"Wait, are you apologizing? To me?" Draco asked, looking shocked. He had been expecting, been preparing, to do a lot of apologizing himself, not have them directed towards him.
"Just answer me this," he said, Draco nodding, ready to comply if that meant he wasn't about to be beaten. Things were looking on the up and up in his opinion. "When?" he asked and Draco knew exactly what he meant.
"Mr. Weasley," Draco muttered, his cheeks a little pink but excusable because of the cold. He was shivering since it was February and he was out without a coat or cloak on.
"No, I need to know this. Has it not crossed you mind that the baby might not be yours?" he asked and Draco sighed. It was true, Ginny had dated him at the same time as someone else…Draco had been her "other man", but he and Ginny had already discussed this at length and had used a spell to try and pinpoint to time of conception, Ginny refusing a paternity spell feeling it was degrading.
"Yes, it has," he said softly while looking down at the porch under his feet.
"Well?"
"It is mine. The date of conception lines up, and Ginny said she had not…uh…shared her bed, so to speak, with Reamann for weeks before."
"So?" he asked, still waiting to hear when this had happened. He couldn't explain why he wanted to know so bad since knowing wasn't about to change anything, or make him feel better, but he had to know.
"Mr. Weasley, you don't really want to know, she is your daughter for God's sake, I mean…" Arthur just gave Draco a stern look and Draco sighed, giving in. He couldn't fight the man on this and expect things to go smoothly. "Christmas," he said, stuffing his fingertips in his jeans pockets since they were too tight to fit his whole hand in.
"Christmas? Ginny spent Christmas here, with the family, and you…came here…" Arthur said before trailing off upon seeing Draco's burning blush. "Oh Merlin," Arthur said, covering his eyes with one hand like a slap to the forehead.
"I'm sorry," Draco muttered, not sure exactly he was apologizing for, the having sex with the man's daughter, or doing it while at the man's house on Christmas no less, or knocking her up at that same point, or just not wearing the condom properly…or all of the above. Whatever it was he was apologizing for wasn't important, it just seemed like the thing to say.
"So you and Ginny are moving in together, because she is, is pregnant," he said, not making it a question really but Draco nodding regardless. "Oh Merlin help me," he moaned, turning around in place so as not to face Draco for a moment.
"You have to understand, I love your daughter."
"Truly?"
"Deeply," Draco said with sincerity. "I meant what I said inside; I can take care of her, and the baby. I am not as well-off as some, but I am not as poor either. I took the Black Family gold so I can offer her a comfortable life, and a home," he said, wishing the man would look at him.
"You just have to understand, she is this family's `little girl' and always will be. I know there is an unfair standard placed on her that was not with the boys, that we want her to remain innocent and untouched forever…but knowing my girl is a woman doesn't mean I like this, this, situation. Pregnant and unmarried is not how any father wants to see his little girl," he explained and Draco nodded, knowing exactly what Arthur was saying. Draco had expected quite a beating because he knew any boy that put his hands on his little girl was never going to get them back. He didn't know what he would do if one day his little Clarissa, with the wildly curling blonde hair and big blue eyes, came to him and told him she was pregnant with her new boyfriend's baby. Draco understood Arthur's outrage, and hurt, but he couldn't excuse it forever because he couldn't undo what was done.
"I can't marry Ginny," Draco said, Arthur looking at him finally. "I know that is what your family expects, and probably demands," he said, not daring to say "wants" because what the family "wanted" was for Ginny to not be pregnant and dating Draco Malfoy, "But Ginny and I agreed already, having talked about it in long length, that it would not be good for our still developing relationship to have marriage forced upon us, again," he said, adding that last bit quickly.
"She has never been forced…" Arthur tried to argue but Draco just looked at him and the man sighed. "She and Harry were in love, and they would have made a good match, things were just…not the same…after the war."
"She felt pushed, and she resented it. She felt pushed into marrying Reamann, and we can all see how that turned out. She just wants an opportunity to make her own decisions, in her own time," he explained.
"And what of you?" Arthur asked.
"What of me?" Draco responded, not sure he wanted to be all honest and open anymore now that the topic was focused on him specifically.
"Do you want to marry her?" he asked, eyeing the thin man intently. Draco looked away for a moment to collect his thoughts before answering.
"I asked her," he admitted and Arthur looked surprised. "When she told me about…the baby…I offered to marry her. It wasn't a proposal, not really, but an offer, and she declined. That's when we talked, and we see eye to eye on this. We are content with dating, and living together, and raising this child."
"You sound like you are not fond of marriage either," Arthur said, like he knew more than he was letting on, but Draco knew, because he could see Arthur's thoughts, that he was fishing. Draco knew this would all come out eventually, so hiding it wouldn't reflect well on him, but he didn't want to stand out in the cold and recite his pathetic life's story to the man. Still, if it got him to understand his feelings on the matter and thus his decision…
"Marriage is something you have to be ready for. Ginny wasn't ready for it when it happened to her, and neither was I," he confessed.
"You have been married before?" Arthur asked, managing to keep the surprise out of his voice very well.
"And a father too," he said and Arthur blinked. "I have two children at home already, from my first marriage."
"Two?" Arthur repeated, eyes gone a little wide.
"I am trying to keep that bit of information about my fatherhood on the down-low for the moment, but I am telling you about it because I want you to trust me. I want you to know that I am okay with you knowing the truth, knowing that I am a father…a good father if I do say so myself…and I will do whatever I have to, to make sure my third child is raised in the most loving home possible."
"Two?" Arthur repeated again, Draco managing to smile in a slightly amused way at the man's shock and maybe with a little bit of pride as his chest started to puff out just a little with his accomplishment.
"Yes, two…a boy and a girl, Michelangelo and Clarissa."
"What of their mother?"
"She died," Draco said and Arthur recoiled just a touch. "Nine years ago," he added and Arthur looked a little sympathetic.
"I'm sorry," he said,
"Why? It's not your fault," he brushed off.
"No, I meant…"
"I know what you meant. Thank you, really," he said, not wanting to dwell on the matter for long.
"How old are your two then, if your wife passed away nine years ago?" he asked and Draco inwardly grumbled. Why does everyone say "passed away" instead of "died"? Like one way of phrasing it made it easier, less painful? His wife was dead, she was murdered by two men that had strangled her and beat her past the point of recognition. "Passed away" did not cover it. Draco did not say this though; he just answered the man's question.
"Michael is twelve and Claire is eleven," he owned up, knowing what was next.
"So you were eighteen when…"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"It is rather chilly," Draco commented then, shivering quite violently at that point.
"Oh, right, I bet you are cold."
"A touch," Draco admitted, jaw now chattering. "Would it be too much to ask to be invited back in? I know I am not held in the most favorable esteem at the moment, but…"
"Yes, you can come in," Arthur sighed, opening the door behind him and stepping in, waiting for Draco to follow.
There they were again, all sitting in that little room together like before, though this time -if possible- the tension was greater. Draco and Ginny sat on the couch, their hands clasped together like the Jaws of Life, Arthur silent since bringing Draco back in, and Molly still sobbing periodically into her handkerchief.
He knew he couldn't hate Draco for what he and Ginny had done because he had accepted Harry and Hermione's pregnancy with open arms, relatively speaking. Harry was only his son because he had once been married to his daughter, but Ginny was his girl, always was, and always would be. Molly knew that too, and despite her sobbing, he knew she would eventually be excited over this baby as much as she was already over Hermione's.
Molly was trying to be fair to the boy…man…that she barely knew, but it was so difficult to erase that image she had of him from years ago. His hurtful words, his disrespectful arrogance…now her daughter was with child, his child…it was a lot to take in all at once.
Draco was relieved that Ginny's parents now knew, after all that was said and done. Unfortunately, his mother still didn't know, and he feared her more than the Dark Lord himself given the nature of this matter. She had not handled the news of him becoming a daddy in the past well, and he doubted, given how much she objected to him seeing Ginny in the first place, and how upset she had been over learning they simply had had sex, that she would be anything less that furious that he was about to make his brood three.
Draco shook his head, back at the present with Ginny.
"So?" she prompted.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, blinking a few times. Ginny sighed, knowing Draco missed her question because he had been caught up in one of his memories again.
"That's my point exactly, Draco. You missed entirely what I said because your mind had wandered off, as involuntarily as it may be, to remember. Was it a bad memory again?"
"No," he said, talking rather subdued.
"I had asked you if you were going to stick with this doctor. It is obvious that you need-"
"Need what?" he cut off a little harshly.
"Need to see someone and talk about this. This trip down memory lane might not have been a bad one, but they often are, and they are frequent. Waking up with you in a panic from some nightmare, or watching you phase in and out of your day in these memories is not…healthy."
"It's how I am, I don't see why you have to keep trying to change me," he protested.
"Draco, this is not some bad habit I am trying to get you to kick,"
"Like my smoking…"
"Or me trying to get you to eat more, this is serious. I can't spend all my time worrying about you, when we will soon have a baby here demanding all my attention."
Draco narrowed his eyes but then surrendered. He was not about to make a row out of this, not if the answer to Ginny's question was what she wanted to hear in the first place.
"Yes, I will continue to see the good doctor," he said, turning away but then stopped when Ginny hooked her arms under his to hug him around the middle from behind.
"I am glad of it," she said softly.
"I know you are."
"I know you are only going to make me happy," she then said, or maybe accused.
"Is it that obvious?" he smirked, though Ginny could not see it.
"You have to want to get better, you know, otherwise no amount of talking to that man is going to help."
"I do want to get healthy."
"But only for me," she sighed.
"Is it wrong to want to make you happy?"
"Ever consider doing something just to make yourself happy?"
"I started seeing you," he offered and Ginny laughed into his back.
"Fair enough."
"Though, you do drive me up the wall," he added and she pinched him. "Ow!"
"So," Ginny said conversationally, pulling apart but grabbing Draco by the back of his shirt to keep him from wondering away, forcing him to linger there with her a little longer. Draco turned to her at that point as she held him so he could see her over his shoulder. "When will you be seeing him next?" she asked.
"Next Friday."
"A week?" she asked, a little surprised.
"Yes, a week," he said flatly.
"Why wait so long?"
"Because I wouldn't be able to withstand more of that man, and the amount of gold I'm shelling out to see him each visit is reason enough to keep my appointments to a minimum."
"Harry went to him three times a week," she said, knowing that Draco was just as much, if not more, messed up than Harry. The war had done that to a lot of those caught up in the fighting. Harry was better now than when he was when she and him had been married (those had been rough times) but Draco had spent ten years in prison rather than therapy, so he got progressively worse, and she felt bad for him, which was something Draco hated. She tried to make this "therapy idea" out to be just something she felt would help him rid himself of his persistent nightmares, not save her from having to see him curled up and crying softly to himself while rocking in the middle of the night. It was heartbreaking.
"Harry was using my gold to pay the man," Draco grumbled. His family's gold and property was confiscated as "retribution" payment for war crimes. The house and all inside it couldn't be touched because of ancient family wards placed on it centuries ago by his ancestors so that nothing could be removed from the property but by a Malfoy, or through a Malfoy's true consent, but all the wealth they had kept in Gringott was taken and divided up. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys all got a hefty chunk of it, for their services to the Ministry via the Order during the war, and the rest of it went to rebuilding devastated areas like the Ministry itself, Hogwarts, and even building a grand magical library named after Albus Dumbledore in the man's honor and memory, that being almost a slap to the face of Draco. Draco, though now pardoned of "wrongdoing" in the war thanks to Harry finally sorting that business out, did not get his family's belongings reinstated to him. The Ministry could not hope to pay back all the money they had taken because it was all long spent, and to give the house back would be too great a blow to their pride for having been wrong, so they wrote it off as payment for Lucius' grievances, not Draco's, and all were satisfied with that…but for Draco, who was left poor and insulted. Harry and many others had been living quite comfortably off his money for years, and knowing while he was rotting in jail, Harry was using his gold to see a therapist to get all happy and feel better about backstabbing him, did not make Draco a happy werewolf.
"Draco, please don't," Ginny begged, already having sat through this particular rant and temper tantrum of Draco's in the past, more times than she cared to count. Having lived with Draco for the last five months had taught her a lot about him, one thing being he had a nasty temper…something she had known about but had not fully appreciated until having witnessed it. He wasn't violent towards anything but furniture (he tended to throw things), and he didn't yell as much as rant in harsh tones, but she didn't want to listen to him go on about how much he hated Harry Potter again. It hurt her feelings (even though she never said anything to him about it) because she still cared about Harry, a lot. She was kind of stuck between the two men. She loved the one deeply, but cared for the other despite everything, and she couldn't cut either out of her life, both having a permanent tie to her. Each had wronged the other, and neither was willing to forgive and forget which made it difficult for her. She knew Draco was….justified…in his anger, but that wasn't enough to excuse his sometimes overly harsh words or tantrums that left things broken. She new Harry felt bad, but was angry at Draco's refusal to make amends, and though that was understandable because she knew how hard Harry had tried to make things right, she couldn't excuse his tempter, or drinking, either. Both boys were wearing on her, and honestly, if she didn't love each of them, she would say to hell with the both of them.
Ginny, having a piece of the Malfoy fortune in her own bank account from one of the Ministry's payoffs, had surrendered the money to Draco, but he (after the fact) seemed to feel guilty at that, like he had forced her to give up a sizable chunk of her hoard to comfort his wounded ego.
Draco looked at Ginny and sighed, knowing he was often unfair to her, and with her pregnant he didn't even offer the option of running away from him. She was surprisingly tolerant of him, and he respected her for it because he knew he wouldn't be able to put up with someone like himself. Her patience with him was sizable, but not limitless, however.
Ginny knew what he was thinking, even without being a Legilimens like him, and she wanted to shake him. He was back to thinking he was an "affliction" again, like she deserved someone better than him, that she would be better off if she could but run from him, and she knew she had Harry to thank for that. Draco had been all about the self-loathing for a long time, but Harry trying to get Draco to stop seeing her last January by telling him that he is an affliction and that he would ruin her life being with her, had compounded the problem considerably. Draco and Harry, they seemed determined to ruin each other's lives! It was enough to drive anyone…crazy. Never call Draco crazy to his face, or think it in his presence, however, lest you enjoy the sight of him flipping out. That was something she learned early on but found hard to avoid with all the "therapy" talk that had been going on for the last few weeks. Draco was only just now speaking to her again after there latest row.
"I will see him once a week, to start with, on Fridays like I used to my parole witch. I just need to get used to the idea, and the man, and maybe…if I feel like I can open up more and trust the man…I will see him more. As it is, with Michelangelo coming home tomorrow, and us all working on number twelve, and the final move…there is a lot to be done."
"I know," she said, smiling softly, happy to know Draco was being so compromising with her, something he was no good at. He often wanted his way, no ifs ands or butts, and as a single father that had worked well, but now with this democracy Ginny had brought with her into his house, he was feeling rather dethroned. He had always had his mother there to rule him, but somehow Ginny worked differently so she was not filling Narcissa's role, but creating a whole new one, and Draco struggled to not feel smothered by the two women trying to be his number one and partner. He loved his mother, but he couldn't tell her to step back some after all she had done for him, and he loved Ginny, but she could be as stubborn as him. From everything like room arrangements and home decor, to baby names and future house sortings at Hogwarts, they disagreed. Ginny wanted a little red-haired-Gryffindor-boy to carry on her family tradition, Draco felt there were more than enough red-haired-Gryffindor-Weasleys in the world already and he wanted a little platinum-Slytherin-Malfoy to follow in his footsteps. Did he mention he wanted a girl?
It was a good thing they loved each other so much, because sometimes they couldn't barley stand each other, let alone agree.
"Where is Clarissa?" he asked, wondering why his little wild-haired daughter hadn't come bursting into the room yet to greet him with a million "I love you"s. It was the third week into the month and the Hogwarts school year and Clarissa's Muggle Primary School's year were out.
"She is with your mother," Ginny said, reaching up behind her head to pull her hair away from her neck and twist it up so it was off her shoulders in the heat. June had come in warm but was going out hot. She struggled to remain comfortable; something being pregnant seemed to deny her on principle alone but the heat compounded. Her skin was shining with sweat and she felt claustrophobic with the weight of the air itself. Hiding still the fact that she was pregnant didn't help her either. It was much too hot for cloaks, or even robes, and ponchos, and whatever else she used as a means of concealing her ever-expanding tummy. Draco liked Ginny's poncho, he said it wasn't the sexiest thing ever, but it made her look round and motherly. Ginny hadn't spoken to him for three days for having called her "round".
Draco smirked down at Ginny, the woman that was all his, and took in her half-dressed appearance. She was barefoot and plain, in a sort of white cotton sundress thing that draped from her pregnant belly but clung to those wonderfully full breasts of hers. They were alone. He could think of a hundred things he needed to do before Michelangelo got home, but there was only one thing he wanted to do at the moment. Ginny, able to feel Draco's eyes on sweaty skin, looked at him and laughed, unable to imagine how he could still find her so alluring when she had put on nearly forty pounds so far and had a belly out to here.
Draco didn't care, it was hot, a perfect excuse to get naked if he ever heard one.
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"Daddy!" Clarissa squealed with glee as Draco came into view. He had a towel draped over his head and shoulders still, from the shower he had taken -with Ginny- and he was dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt. No socks or shoes, yet, skin still a little wet so that his shirt clung. He had put on weight, he was still skinny, but not quite in the concave sort of way that he was before. He could be called "skinny" now rather than "emaciated" like before, and he kind of liked that, mostly because it meant his pants stayed up. He joked in a mock insulted way that it was his pregnancy weight to any of the family that remarked on it.
"Hey, sweet pea," he said, allowing her to latch onto his hip and hug him like she hadn't seen him in not hours, but years. "How was your last day?" he asked.
"Sad, I am going to miss my friends, but they said they would write," she said, looking a whole lot happier than she sounded. It was the last day before summer, but Clarissa wouldn't be returning to that school in the fall. Not only were they moving across London and therefore a different school district, but Clarissa was going to start Hogwarts this year. Her moving was the perfect cover for her Muggle friends that she had made, but it was still tricky.
"If you owl all your letters home to me first I can forward them by Muggle post to them," he said reassuringly and Clarissa squealed again in excitement.
"I can't believe it! I am finally going to Hogwarts! Michael will be home tomorrow and he can tell me all about it in person, though he has written to me plenty about it. It sounds so amazing! When do I get my wand?" she asked, her tone suddenly shifting to be a little demanding.
"Hold the horses," Draco laughed, his mother stepping out of the kitchen then where she had entered right away after coming home to pour herself the bourbon she was now clutching in her thin hand as she crossed arms and leaned. "First we need to receive your acceptance letter, and then we have the whole summer to get what you need," he said, understanding his daughter's excitement. He had been excited to get his letter too.
"Like there is any doubt I am accepted?" Clarissa said confidently, pulling away from her father to stand there arrogantly. Draco had no idea where she got it from. Clarissa was right to assume she would make it in, however, based off her already blossoming magical prowess. She had been displaying magical talents since she was four, Michelangelo since he was eight, but Draco still needed to go an extra mile to get his children accepted into the school that other parents didn't. Names of magical children were written down at birth in a large book by a magical quill, letters then sent out after their eleventh birthdays. Though his children's names were undoubtedly recorded, his children were werewolves and he had to make arrangements with the Head Master: Minerva McGonagall, so that his children could dorm there safely.
There was also the matter of Clarissa being the first to attend as a Malfoy and not McGucken which was their mother's maiden name. It had not been easy for Michelangelo to be halfway through his school year, in his first year there, with new friends and an unfamiliar setting, and to be exposed as the bastard son of the dreaded Death Eater werewolf Draco Malfoy. Apparently that hadn't made things easy for him, and Draco felt terrible for that. Clarissa would be going in there as a Malfoy, so though it would be hard, it would be different because she wouldn't have friends to then lose. Draco wished he could go back in time and make it so Witch Weekly never got those pictures, and ran that article about him having children, but it was one of those inevitable things that he supposed had to happen, so that his life could move on unhindered by the dread of his secret being exposed and the weight of the responsibility to guard his children in such a way, and now that it was known he could dedicate his time to making things better, or as best as he could, for them.
"Yeah-yeah. I bet they will tell you that you are not magical enough to attend," he teased and Clarissa huffed up, face pink.
"They will not!" she stomped.
"If you do manage to make it, you will surely land in Hufflepuff," he said and Clarissa looked irate.
"Angel, don't be mean now," Narcissa interjected as she sipped her bourbon, calling Draco by his middle name as always, that being her affectionate pet-name for him since he were small. The Dark Lord was the one that had actually named him "Draco" and though it was a strong name, and she didn't necessarily hate it, she still preferred the name she was to give him. Draco didn't mind it, so long as she didn't use it in public. "Draco" was one thing, but "Angel"? That was a little rougher to have to deal with. Might as well have named him "Ashley" like his mother had considered, just to guarantee that he would have been strung up the Quidditch goal-hoops by his knickers at Hogwarts.
Ginny strolled in at that moment and Clarissa took to hugging her then, and kissing her tummy, Clarissa (even when compared to Draco) was by far the most excited about this baby. She was going to be a big sister, and she was reveling in the fact.
"You coming with us to get Michael in the morning?" Ginny asked and Clarissa looked up at her with those pale-silver-blue eyes.
"Yes!"
"Then we best be off to bed early," she said, Clarissa not looking to excited over that part, but complying after appealing to her father but him just nodding in agreement with Ginny.
"Michael and Phinnaeus will be home tomorrow, which means there will be a long full day with the Weasleys tomorrow," Draco said. Phinnaeus was Bill's and Fleur's oldest son. He was the same age as Michael and the first Weasley of the new generation to attend Hogwarts. There would be a steady stream of them for the next twenty years, however, given how many sons and the handful of daughters the Weasley brothers had amassed over the last fourteen years. Bill and Fleur had gotten married, and eight months later had Phinn. It didn't take a genius to figure out that that didn't figure out, but no one said anything. Ginny had already pointed out that her parent's anniversary was in April, after they eloped (according to them because they were "young" and the war had everyone spooked) and Bill was born November 29th of that same year. Yeah, Draco didn't feel any one of the Weasleys had any right to cast stones at him for sleeping with Ginny out of marriage, let alone getting her pregnant. The only difference being he didn't run off and marry her right away. What could he say; he had learned the value of resisting peer pressure.
Draco and Ginny crawled into bed together, this being the last night they would sleep in this apartment. Number twelve was still unfinished, but they were only waiting to fully move in for Michelangelo to come home. Draco spooned himself up against Ginny's back despite the heat so he could hold her, and her stomach as he burred his nose in her still slightly damp hair to take in her scent that was like her strawberry shampoo and still smelled of her natural sweat. He was a werewolf, that scent of hers was important to him, it was comforting.
"I love you," he whispered into her scalp, feeling a slight shift in Ginny's round tummy as the baby seemed to get comfortable for the night.
"I love you more," she mumbled since she was nearly asleep already.
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Author's Note:
Hazah! I have gotten the sequel up and running! I hate writing sequels only because I hate having to reintroduce everything I established in the first story(ies). I don't want to make it a complete summery of the first story but I don't want it to leave readers wondering "wtf?" either, so forgive me if this chapter seemed redundant.
So now it is June, Ginny is six months pregnant, Draco is moving into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and Michelangelo is on his way home from Hogwarts for the summer. All seems well enough. Draco is in therapy now, just like I promised he would be. It will not be the focal point of this fic, but it will play a crucial role, and it will give me an excuse to explore more of Draco so we can all discover why the poor thing is SO bitter. (I know why…hehehe)
Yes, there will be more flashbacks in this fic, like the first one, so if you liked that about Blue-eyed Angel, lucky you. If you hated it, too damn bad. There will be a few memories from the war that I have left over that I could not fit into the first fic, but most of them will be of Draco's time in Azkaban and such. So does that mean we get to see his mysterious wife? Sure does! Not sure how much you will like her. Hmmm.
The line up from the first fic is back, along with Reamann, so don't worry about missing anyone. This fic will be long like all my writing, and it has light and dark moments, but I'm not sure of the balance yet…just be warned: ANGST is on the horizon! Arr!
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