Fallen Angel
Chapter 11
"What happened?" Ginny demanded as she walked briskly down the hallway, a man along side her who had greeted her at the door with no words, no smile. They were in a Muggle hospital, but he was a wizard. He worked there for the Ministry, helping divert magical mishap cases from the common ER and ensuring that magic stay secret from the Muggles there who were treated, and who did the treating.
"I'm not sure, there are Ministry officials in his room now, taking his statements and such, but they wouldn't allow me to eaves drop. I recognized the code he gave for a hurt werewolf, and then saw the name and knew to pull him aside immediately, but I didn't get a chance to talk to him, he was just asking for you. He looked scared shitless," the man said, practically jogging every other step to keep in-stride with Ginny.
"Is he alright?"
"Banged up pretty bad, came in here looking awful, but he seems more upset than anything," he said just as the reached the room. Ginny disregarded the man at that point, pushing the door open to barge in without knocking, without seeing if she needed permission. The two wizards in formal Ministry robes turned from their interrogation upon the interruption and glared in Ginny's direction, but that movement was enough to reveal Draco beyond them, sitting on an examining table, in an open-backed hospital gown. He sat there shivering, or shaking, with his bare ankles crossed as he sat hunched shouldered, chin down, tangled and much shorter hair hanging in his face. He had a scuff on his chin and a busted lip. His eye looked like it was bruising, and there was a cast on his left forearm, leaving only his fingers to peek out.
"Draco," Ginny moaned, rushing over to him and stopping just short of throwing her arms around him. She didn't know how badly he was hurt, but coming just that much closer, she could tell he was in a lot of pain. "What happened?" she asked, ignoring everyone else in the room to fuss over him, grabbing a piece of his chopped hair and forcing it behind his ear, it a habit of hers from when he hid behind his curtain of long white hair.
"Ah, Ms. Weasley, we were told you might come barging in here," the shorter of the two wizards said rather curtly. "We need to finish getting our statements from Mr. Malfoy here, so if you wouldn't mind waiting outside-"
"Actually, I would mind," Ginny snapped, standing straight and placing a hand on the top of Draco's head, scratching his scalp just a little to silently comfort him. "Why are you getting statements from him in an interrogative manner? Can't you see he was attacked? I little sympathy is in order I think," she said, looking at the two men she did not know but not liking them much.
"We cannot discuss an open case with-"
"Open case, so you are investigating this then?"
"We cannot-"
"Cannot tell me? I think you can, you just won't."
"Ginny, it's awright," Draco said from beside Ginny, reaching up with his bad arm to use his fingertips to grab Ginny's hand. He was able to get her to step back and look at him, him speaking softly as though to exclude the Ministry Wizards from their conversation even though they would hear. "You shouldn't be in here," he whispered.
"I had to see you, when I was called and told you were attacked…"
"I'm fine," he assured, Ginny's voice sounding tearful, giving her a weak smile but his lip bleeding a little from the split at the tension created.
"Oh Draco, you are such a liar," she sighed, leaning down to try and tuck more of his hair way from his face. Leaning over she could see down his bare back and the bandages wound around his chest, his protruding and curved spine visible as always, only helping in making him look all the more piteous. She didn't let Draco know what she saw, but a sickness settled in her stomach that caused her to swallow thickly.
"Who did this to you?" she asked, Draco sighing because he honestly did not know and had already been unable to answer that question several times that night.
"That is what we are trying to discover, Ms. Weasley, so if you would kindly wait outside so that we may talk with him-"
"He needs medical attention first, not to be bombarded with questions," she barked.
"He isn't dying, and this matter is pressing."
"His health is what's pressing your addle pots. Where is the healer, I demand that he come in here at once and-"
"Ms. Weasley, don't make us remove you from the room, we really don't want it to come to that," the taller of the two wizards said firmly, taking a step forward and parting his robes at his hips to place his hands there, making focal his wand at his belt, carried like a sword. Ginny's eyes of course fell on it before they shot up to meet his.
"How dare you…"
"Ginny," Draco sighed, making to grab her hand again but her stepping aside to dodge it. "Please, don't make this worse, please? Let them just finish here and we can go home," he said, looking and sounding so tired.
"But what about the healers, shouldn't you be taken over to St. Mungo's?"
"I would not be admitted. Don't worry, I'm awright," he said again, snatching her hand that time and kissing the air just above her knuckles since his lip was still bleeding. Ginny looked at him with her heart torn apart, but did as he asked, knowing she was just making things take longer and Draco seriously not needing that.
Ginny sat outside, on one of those terribly uncomfortable plastic chairs, holding her stomach in her vex, knees bouncing, head roaming back and forth down the hallway to her left and right as she waited. Her baby was moving around fretfully, and it was making her even more uncomfortable. Eventually who she was looking for appeared and Ginny got up as fast as she could manage to fall into his arms.
"Ginny…"
"Oh Ron," she cried, not having allowed herself to cry yet, but now in her brother's arms she felt the tears coming, and she wept.
Harry came around the corner just after Ron, and stood there awkwardly.
"I don't know what happened, no one will tell me anything. He was attacked, that's all I know. Someone hurt him and the Ministry Wizards in there are treating Draco like HE was the one guilty of something…Dr. Valensclaro came, looking like he was pulled straight from bed, and he was admitted into the room, but he hasn't come out, and that was over twenty minutes ago," she sobbed, Ron rubbing her back, Harry trying to show his silent support by not turning away at Ginny's tears, even with how much it hurt him to have to see them.
"You know the Ministry has a wand up their arse over Draco, and you know they wont investigate this as fairly as they would any other attack of this nature because he is a werewolf," Ron sighed, wishing he had more optimistic words to assure her with but honesty being what was best at the moment.
"You said Dr. Valensclaro came?" Harry asked, Ginny just nodding. "Why would they call him in?" Harry asked, Ron obviously, but no one in that hall had the answer.
Fifteen minutes of more waiting and even Ron looked ready to beat in the door to get some answers. It went without saying that Ginny was more than a little anxious. She paced, she held her stomach, she sobbed, she fumed. Ron was worried about his sister and had taken up seat while Harry leaned against the wall. It was well past midnight, and all were worn and frazzled, and haggard from worry. Neither Harry nor Ron liked how stressed Ginny seemed. She needed her rest, yet here she was, waiting up for battered boyfriend to be released to her care. Was it any wonder Ginny suffered from migraines and indigestion?
"I can't take this anymore," Ginny finally announced, unable to wait any longer while no one came in or out of that room. Harry looked ready to stop her from going in, and Ron looked ready to stop Harry from trying. Ron didn't understand how Harry could have been married to Ginny for so long and still feel like he could some how control her. Maybe that was why it had failed as miserably as it had.
Ginny burst in to see Draco no where in sight, the healer Ginny had first met standing there, Dr. Valensclaro with him, both looking rather distraught.
"Where…where is Draco?" Ginny asked, positive she would have seen him removed from the room; she had been stationed outside it for over an hour now.
"He was taken into the next room," Dr. Valensclaro explained, indicating the door that adjoined the two rooms. Ron and Harry appeared at Ginny's back, looking around, and the weight of the room itself was smothering, even without all those bodies in there vying for space.
"I'm so sorry, my dear," Dr. Valensclaro sighed, as though he was continuing a thought, possibly the conversation he had been having with the healer when Ginny had burst in. Ginny looked at him because it was obvious the man's words were not intended as any sort of comfort, but as the aperture for more grave news.
"What do you mean?"
"They called me in, the Ministry chaps, and they demanded very clear-cut answers. They wanted a yes or no, and didn't allow me any explanations," he said, the earnest in his eyes showing how badly he wanted her to understand him, believe him.
"What did you do?" Ginny demanded, automatically aggressive.
"Something terrible," he sighed, sitting own in the one lone chair in the corner. The healer then jumped in to explain.
"They were demanding all these details about the therapy Draco has been in."
"They had a warrant, I don't know how they got one so fast," Dr. Valensclaro said, holding his chin and looking guilt ridden.
"What did you tell them?" Ginny practically shouted at the man.
Valensclaro looked up at her sadly.
"Everything," he sighed.
"They were asking if Draco had a history of hurting himself, history of playing up injury, acting victimized, or seeking out negative attention," the healer explained and Ginny felt the color drain out of her face, her anger replaced with a sickening horror, knowing enough of Draco's past to know where this was going.
"They think he did this to himself?" Harry asked, not having seen Draco yet, but sure that couldn't be a perceivable surmise.
"He has a history of hurting himself, and they asked me if he was medicated and I told them I had not subscribed anything yet until I had a chance, an opportunity, to do a proper diagnosis of his schizophrenia…but they took my feelings on the matter and deduced on their own that he must have done this himself."
"Schizophrenia?" Ginny asked, Ron speaking over her as she stood there, looking white-faced, shocked, and horrified still.
"They can't honestly think he would hurt himself bad enough to land in the hospital like this, and then claim someone else did it."
"He has done it in the past, tried to cover up his self-inflicted injuries on accidents or others-"
"So you think he did do this to himself?" Ginny yelled.
"Of course I do not. He had never bashed himself about before," Dr. Valensclaro said defensively, as though insulted by Ginny's accusation. "He would not have broken his own arm, cracked eight of his own ribs, cut off all his own hair, and managed to give himself a concussion. That does not fit with his history. No. He would have cut himself, burned himself, something. He wouldn't have managed these injuries on his own, not even if he had tossed himself down a flight of stairs. There are also finger-shaped bruises on his jaw that clearly couldn't have come from him, if the Ministry is willing to acknowledge the fact."
"Then why are they so ready to accuse him?" Harry asked, Dr. Valensclaro just looking at him because they all already knew the answer.
"If Draco did this to himself, then there is no need for an investigation," Ron sighed.
"They…what? No!" Ginny's outrage matching that of everyone else in the room but her the only one mildly surprised it seemed.
"Gin, calm down," Ron coached, grabbing her shoulders and rubbing them. He knew this wasn't good for her, or the baby, for her to get so worked up. There was a thump from the next room and Harry looked over, but Dr. Valensclaro continued talking.
"I'm sorry my dear, I did not mean to give them ammunition to use against him, I wouldn't do that to him…but they asked me very frank questions, to which I answered honestly, and you know as well as I do, the Ministry knows how to ask questions so as to get the answers they want to hear."
"Oh god, I can't believe this…what will happen to him?" she sobbed, leaning into her brother's chest.
"He will likely be fined for filing a false claim, possibly fined for coming to a Muggle hospital and making subject to contamination countless innocents, and possibly issued a room in St. Mungo's for a stay."
"They would commit him?" Ron asked, surprised.
"I know they have wanted to for a while, they had only been lacking a justifiable -even by their standards- reason. They contacted me upon my agreement to council him, asking to be kept informed on his wellbeing. I did no such thing, keeping private matters private, but it seems to have all been in vain in the end."
Ginny sobbed and there was another thump from the other side of the door.
"I'm going to see what's going on," Harry announced, everyone in the room deep in their own thoughts, or tears, and so Harry's announcement went unacknowledged.
He used his wand to flick the door open as he stepped in, closing it behind him though his eyes were locked on the scene before him. Draco was on his forearms and knees, coughing, in obvious amounts of pain, his hospital gown tied closed but still gaping open across his back around his shoulders to reveal his bruising and bandages. The two wizards were in there, pointing wands at him, eyes now on Harry, however.
"Please," Draco wheezed, Harry looking back over at him. Draco looked up at the man he hated so much, held so much against, but turned to now for help because he was helpless on his own. "Please," he begged, just that simple word, and certainly those tears in his pale eyes, all that was needed to get Harry to stride over to him and stand between Draco and the wand-tips.
"What in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing?" Harry demanded.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but this matter does not concern you. It is business of the Beast Department that needs addressing," the taller of the two wizards said quite officially.
"Beating up a sick werewolf who was just attacked is a Ministry order?"
"He hurt himself, and this has nothing to do with that," the shorter now said.
"Then I demand to know on what grounds you are attacking him now."
"He is to be sterilized, Mr. Potter. It is common procedure, it is painless, if he would but hold still. Even the threat of incarceration for assaulting a Ministry Wizard wasn't enough to get him to cooperate."
"Sterilized?" Harry gaped, Draco still on the floor to his back, groaning after another cough or two.
"It was made light just the yesterday that he is having a pup with Ms. Weasley, and her condition is quite obvious tonight. He knew damn well that procreation is strictly prohibited. He had evaded sterilization after the birth of his first two pups thanks to that whore of a wife of his, but he will not be excused this time."
"Step aside, Mr. Potter," the taller then said, holding his wand higher than before so it was clearly pointed at Harry now. Harry looked at them fiercely, standing between them and Draco, and not about to move willingly.
"You can't do this."
"Ministry law says we can."
"This is inhumane!"
"He isn't human."…"Step aside!" they said.
Harry drew his wand and the two wizards took a step back and adjusted their aim as though ready to duel.
"You can be arrested from drawing on a Ministry-"
"I know the laws, you yellow-bastards, I wrote many of them myself," Harry snapped. "You drop your wands now or there will be an inquiry in your department the likes of which the Ministry has never seen," Harry threatened and the two wizards glared, both slowly lowering their wands. Harry waited until they pocketed them and took a step back before he turned his back on them, to squat down beside the nearly nude and crying werewolf.
"Draco," he whispered.
"Please," Draco sobbed, pulling at his gown to be more covered, not able to even look at Harry and wishing so much to be more covered at that moment, while he cried.
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Harry agreed to not tell Ginny what happened in that room, not for the sake of Draco wanting to keep it a secret from her, but because he knew Ginny just couldn't bare such news in her condition. She would blame herself, she would be inconsolable, and Draco was already like that enough for them all.
"Here, Draco," Ginny said, sitting down on the couch beside him with a damp rag in hand. They were back in Grimmauld Place. It was almost two in the morning and Narcissa was up, making strong tea for everyone. Draco was resting as comfortably as possible given his numerous injuries, some newer than the others. He was offered no spells for healing since most would be ineffectual at best given his natural resistance to most magic, and no potions to ease his pain or speed healing since he was still being denied such things. He was bandaged up Muggle style and that was the best any of them could hope for.
"Ugh, it smells terrible," Draco whined, leaning his head away from the rag.
"Yeah, but it will keep your lip from swelling up like a Puffapod," she said, pressing it against his face, Draco emitting a hiss but not pulling away either, taking it as much of a man as he could manage. He eventually took the rag from her to hold it there himself while Ginny fussed over the rest of him.
"You cut your hair," she said, a bowl of hot water there, as she washed him up. He was dirty, like he had been rolling around on the ground. She had a comb, and a wet rag, and was washing what was left of Draco's hair.
"It was cut off my braid or let myself get knocked out, and then where would I be?" he asked through his rag, Ginny's stomach giving a queasy gurgle at the thought of where Draco could have ended up if he hadn't gotten away.
"Needed a haircut anyways in my opinion," Ron said, rather light-heartedly, trying to keep the mood high, for Ginny, for Draco, for everyone really, including himself.
"Well, you got your wish," Draco sighed as Ginny combed out his snarls and took in the damage.
"I can trim you up, you will be looking dashing again in no time," she said, Draco wheezing a laugh at that.
No one wanted to talk about the attack, no one wanted to ask "So do you have any idea who did this?" or "Did you get a look at him?" because obviously, if Draco knew, he would have said something when being accused of doing this to himself. As it was, no one was talking about that either, or what Dr. Valensclaro had said about Draco being schizophrenic, but Draco was aware that they knew, and he felt sick, ashamed, and uncomfortable, which did not bode well as far as keeping the room light.
Narcissa eventually tucked Draco off to bed, and Ginny followed, leaving Ron and Harry to sit in the kitchen, drinking something a little stronger than tea, talking in hushed tones as though the walls had ears.
"They were what?"
"Going to sterilize him, apparently. Beat him up right nice beforehand too, saying he had attacked them. I'm not surprised. If someone was pointing a wand at my family jewels I would throw a kick or two their way too."
"That's awful, I hadn't known…"
"Neither did I," Harry not happy with that admission. He had been sure he knew of all the happenings in his Ministry, and with his good friend Remus being a werewolf, had had been certain he would have known of something as terrible as this. "Makes sense now, however, why he tried so hard to cover the pregnancy up. It wasn't for the shame of it because he and Ginny are unwed, and it wasn't because of the publicity…he was scared what the Ministry would do to him once they realized…"
"Merlin's beard," Ron sighed, rubbing his face. "What are you going to do?"
"Go to the Ministry first thing in the morning, see what else is going on in that Beast Division I don't know about. If this is how they treat Draco, there is no reason to believe they are treating the others any better, even with their personal vendetta against Draco. I'm worried about the Pen now, and will have to establish some kind of investigation, something. This kind of cruelty is what lead the werewolves to side with the Dark Lord in the war, we can't let them feel that would be their only choice again should something terrible arise."
"I'm with you on that one, mate, I really am…but I think you are fighting an uphill battle," Ron warned.
"When am I never?" Harry argued and Ron just nodded, that being true.
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When a man learns he is to be a father, it is a proud time, a time to take delight, a time to worry a bit, a time to look ahead. That was not so for Draco. Learning he was to be a father for the very first time was one of his most terrible memories. He hadn't known until that night why Christina had stopped leaving her cell to go out to the pit or even take showers, and why she sometimes cried at night. He hadn't known why she wouldn't look at him or even face him, or why she leaned over with hunched shoulders as though holding her stomach in her hands.
He learned the reason, the same night the guards did, that terrible night in late July, not long after his eighteenth birthday.
"Come here you licentious bastard!" the guard screamed at him, the shuttering clang of the barred door sliding open being what woke Draco, but the large angry hand around his throat what ripped him from his bed.
"Don't hurt the boy," another called from outside the cell as Draco was swung around to be thrown into a wall, disoriented and breathing fast. A few punches and numerous kicks connected without any block before Draco fell to a heap on the floor, shielding himself as best he could with his arms and legs, too frightened to cry, too confused to ask questions, too cold to fight back.
"The little bastard will pay for this," the largest guard in the cell with him cursed, held back by another who seemed to be not concerned with Draco, but the formality of the matter and how it would be dealt with. Christina could be heard screaming from her cell and Draco had thought that to be part of his dreams at first, thus why they hadn't been what woke him. Every night he heard screams, terrible screams, in his memories.
"Stop it! Don't heart him, please, this isn't his fault!" she called, her pleading so uncharacteristic of her, Draco wouldn't have recognized the words as being hers if it weren't for her voice. The voice he knew so well, yet it lacked that air of demand, that presence of authority. She was begging -big, tough, fearless Christina was begging- and Draco was scared.
"I, I don't understand," he managed as he was grabbed by the shoulder of his burlap shirt and yanked to his feet, Draco attempting to show he meant no protest by walking quite quickly with the man who led him to the entrance of his cell. "I, I don't know what I could have done, but please allow me to explain," he said, trying to be reasonable, trying to walk despite the pain from his abrupt and brief beating. His hair now just past his shoulders was hanging in his face, but through it he could see the expression the guards bore and he knew there was something terribly wrong. He had been here for almost seven months now, and though he would never dare claim the guards were considerate or kind to him, they had not shown this level of hostility to him once, not ever.
"Explain? By all means, Mr. Malfoy, do explain to us THIS!" the guard leading him grunted as he gave Draco a swing to throw him forward, Draco presented with Christina standing there, her shirt pulled away to reveal something that caused Draco to stare and her to look at him sadly, as though full of shame. She looked away at that point, to hide her face, and the emotion there.
Draco stared at the swollen stomach presented to him but his brain could not make sense of it. A flash of lightning from the storm outside cut through the corridor and Draco did not react. The roll of thunder and the pounding sea roared, but there was silence from all standing there, the crackling of the torches and the breathing of the men thick in Draco's ears.
"I don't understand," he finally managed, Christina looking up at him finally after shaking her hair away, the guards all grumbling.
"Do not understand, Malfoy? Perhaps I should explain it to you since you cannot seem to grasp it yourself," the head guard on duty mocked, his tone harsh, and condescending, causing Draco to shake because the Death Eaters had spoken to him much like that, the Dark Lord had taunted him in that way. Draco feared what was to become of him, these men did not seem pleased. "You had sexual relations with a fellow prisoner, but not just any prisoner, but a WOMAN, and how she has been revealed to be with child, YOUR CHILD!" the man bellowed shoving Draco from behind at that point, causing Draco to fall to his knees but catch himself with his hands, looking back at the man over his shoulder as the lightning flared, over and up at Christina as the thunder rolled.
"Pregnant?" he managed, breathless and weak. Christina's face crumbled as she hung her head, her shirt still torn away to reveal what was undeniable, even in the firelight: she was, most defiantly, without a doubt, indeed with child.
"Do you deny having relations with her and being the father?" one guard demanded.
"No…I mean, yes…I mean…I cannot be the father…I…I couldn't be…" he stammered, stuck looking up between the men around him and the woman held there, the pregnant woman.
"We already have a confession out of Ms. McGucken here that she had intercourse with you."
"No…" he said, looking over at her, then back at the guard. "Well…okay, yes, we did, but it was one time, it was just a brief…I mean…" he swallowed hard, his brain working at a mile a minute though unable to wrap it around what was happening still. He had just been sleeping, this was all just a bad dream, a nightmare he would wake from and cry over and wish he could forget. He would get his cold gruel in the morning, and hear Christina's voice teasing him, and everything would be okay.
"This is an outrage," one guard said to another.
"We sent her over here to put a stop to this promiscuous nonsense and now look! We are worse off than before, now we have a pregnancy, and a werewolf to blame for it!" the oldest said, many grumbling either in agreement or outrage at having the blame pointed at them.
"She was kept separate, the boy was young and a werewolf, how were we to know her whorish-ways could see past even that?" the head guard on duty from Draco's block bellowed, Draco looking over at Christina, never having heard such things about her before, and she looked at him sadly. For the first time since he had ever laid eyes on her, a look of disgrace hanging heavy in her hooded eyes. There was a sorrow there, like an apology unspoken.
"What's to be done? She cannot have his bastard, the Ministry would not allow it, and it is our necks on the block here with the inquiry to be had!"
"Now, now, we mustn't jump the whistle just yet, we must first establish without a doubt that the boy is the father before we know what actions to take, hmm? We cannot deal with the matter properly if we don't know who must be dealt with."
"Like there is someone else who could have done it? They are alone here!"
"In cells, kept always separate. The only time they had a union was in the Pit, is that right Ms. McGucken?" the elderly guard asked, Christina saying nothing. "She has access to countless men out there; any number of them could be responsible."
Draco was looking up at her, not sure which he wanted to be untrue more, that the child was his, or that she was a whore. Either way he was feeling used, violated, and humiliated. Stupid too, he felt so stupid right now.
"Are you saying we are so daft at our post that we cannot notice such happenings-?"
"It is obvious you missed them before or you wouldn't have had to send here over to this block in the first place, and we know she copulated with the boy at least once, so we know it is possible. Draw your wand; see if the boy is the father. If he isn't, then we have less of a mess on our hands than we first feared."
Draco's face paled as a wand was drawn and pointed at him. He let out a yelp as he was grabbed from behind and stood up, and he struggled as he was held still before the tip.
"Please, I…" he begged, a guard punching him in the gut to silence him and to stop his thrashing. Draco was doubled over for a moment, trying to relearn how to breathe, sagging in the grip of the two men who held him.
"Stop it, leave him alone, I told you what happened already," Christina shouted at them but they paid her no mind. Draco was yanked upright as he wheezed and he felt a warmth flare through him that was almost refreshing given how cold he had been for such a long time, but it made him feel nauseous; it made him dizzy and weak. That heat left him quickly enough and a light shown through his closed eyelids. It came from over near Christina and he dared a glance.
Christina's belly shone, like it were a lampshade, and she turned her head away for a moment, her hair burning bright in the glow of it. Eventually the light faded to leave three words scrolled across her skin, in glowing letters.
There was a murmur, and Christina's eyes fell to meet Draco's, their greenness not lost to the firelight.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Draco, I had no choice," she said, voice so distant in his shock. A name was presented, for all to see across her belly, and Draco recognized it as his own, and only had the chance to feel a lump slide from his throat to his stomach before he was jerked forward, thrown against the bars, and struck several times.
"Stop it! Leave him alone; don't do this to him, please!" Christina was screaming at them as she was held back, but Draco's hearing was off, distant, with a ringing taking forefront after he hit his head on the bars.
He felt himself being dragged away, dragged towards the hole, where inmates were left in solitary where there was no light, no sound, no sensation but cold. He wasn't given any sort of explanation, any chance to speak to Christina. He could hear the distant bickering of the guards over what a mess this was and despite everything Draco wanted to know what was to become of his child, but he didn't get the chance. Tumbling down the stairs into something like a dank cellar, Draco righted himself onto his knees quickly, in time to scream at them as the hatch closed.
"Please, don't!" he cried in terror as it slammed shut, thrusting him it to muffled darkness where he was alone…
Draco woke with a gasp, but the jerk that came with his stir ripped a scream from him, waking Ginny too. His ribs hurt so badly, he had hit his casted arm off the bedside table when he had lashed out, and his head spun from sitting up. The aftermath of that wakening was agonizing.
Ginny sat up just as quickly and spun to turn on the lamp, Draco already sobbing quite heavily by the time she had righted herself enough to lean over and hold him
"It's alright Draco, it was only a dream, shh, it's alright," she comforted as she forced him to rock, not sure if it hurt him to do so but him not protesting as he actually clung to her shoulder. "There-there, you're here, with me now. Whatever you saw, it was the past. I'm here," she cooed, stroking his hacked hair, holding his shoulders where there were the fewest injuries.
Draco cried, that memory -the memory of the hole- being one he could not stomach. He hated that he was crying, really crying with tears, and a runny nose, and loud sobs, but he couldn't stop himself. The night's events with the Ministry Wizards had left him so shaken, so raw, that his memories we influenced, and reflected the similarity to what he had already experienced. Learning he was to be a father had never come as welcomingly as it did most any other man. Only nearly dodging sterilization this time, as he had before, Draco was left to cry on Ginny's shoulder, unable to tell her what he saw, her not really wanting to know, only wanting to be a comfort for him.
This wasn't the first time he had woken to tears, but this was the first time he had allowed her to hold him, and Ginny felt that was a wondrous step in the right direction. She only wished he had turned to her sooner.
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"How is he doing?" Ron asked as he stretched. He had dozed off on the couch and found he was not alone when he woke. Narcissa was in there with him. Some believed the woman never slept, Ron was one of them.
"He is resting, Ginny is looking after him still," she said, not mentioning the nightmares, knowing Draco would prefer it.
"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eye.
"It is quarter past nine," she answered but preempted Ron's moment of panic by speaking just a touch louder. "I owled your office early this morning, informing them you would be taking a personal day."
"Wow, thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Ron said, blinking at the crisp woman.
"Would you like some breakfast? The children are not up yet, and Ginny won't touch anything while watching Angel," Narcissa said, it obvious she was looking for someone to take care of at the moment, needing that to feel accomplished, and productive. Ron hadn't known what a mothering person the woman was until he was invited into Draco's home and properly introduced to the woman. Without frying pans being slammed against his cranium, Ron was able to see that Narcissa was not much different than his own mother, like any mother: doting, caring, and always far too concerned.
"I have a large appetite," he warned.
"I have the time and resources," she assured, standing with complete grace and gliding from the room towards the stairs where she cascaded down towards the kitchen.
There was a knock at the front door, and Ron looked around, expecting someone to appear to answer it, but Narcissa didn't come, and no one manifested from thin air. Frank stirred from atop his perch, looking cranky at being woken so early in the morning, and squawked at Ron to answer it.
"Fine, alright," he muttered as he rolled himself off that couch that was just too small for him. He lumbered out the room, down the hall, and too the door while scratching his scalp and yawning liberally. He ran his hands down the front of his t-shirt and hoped his hair was presentable as he opened the door, not sure who to expect.
"Yes?"
"Is he alright?" Connor asked as he squeezed past Ron to allow himself in, Ron frowning his brow at the man he only barely recognized and hadn't invited in.
"Excuse me but who do you think-?"
"Draco, is he alright? I read it in the paper this morning, it's just terrible that he would toss himself down some stairs like that, the Ministry claiming he hurt himself in Muggle London in hopes of infecting others…I don't want to believe he would do that. Tell me, is he alright? Tell me it isn't true," he said, Ron closing the door so that no neighbor would be able to possibly overhear, and he sighed.
"Draco did not hurt himself, despite whatever it is the papers are saying. He is alright, sleeping right now, and why are you here?"
"I had to see him."
"Why? You just work with him, you don't know him, or barely at least," Ron argued, eyeing the man suspiciously.
"I, I can't really explain, but know I have only his best intentions in mind."
"Sounds to me that you read the papers and are trying to get close to him. You wouldn't be a snitch would you? A little toad used to get close to him so as to expose him to the media in an unfair light?" Ron accused, advancing on the tall but much thinner man.
"No, no," Conner attempted to deny, backing up but hitting the banister. He moved around it to be backing down the hall, hands up, clearly frightened of the much larger redhead. "Please, I'm concerned for him, I do not demand to see him or even speak to him, only to know he is alright."
Ron was making a motion as though he was pushing up invisible sleeves when a voice called down the stairs.
"Crikey, can't anyone get some sleep around here? What the bloody-hell is all the commotion about?" Michelangelo demanded as he walked down the stairs to come upon the two men, Michelangelo clearly having just rolled out of bed by the state of his hair and dress. He stopped to survey the scene below him, try and make sense of what he was seeing, understand what could possibly be the matter.
Ron turned to Conner and gave him a very stern look that quite clearly implied that he should say nothing, and Conner knew then that Michelangelo did not know of the goings-on of last night or what the papers said this morning.
"Hey slugger, it's nothing, just a coworker of your dad's stopped by, nothing to ponder over," he said, never been a smooth talker.
"Yes, you work with my father, I met you the other night when you came over for a drink. Is my father not at work right now?" Michelangelo asked, slowly coming down the stairs. He had fallen asleep before his father had come home, and having just woken now and noting the time, he assumed he had missed him. He couldn't understand why Connor was there when his father was not.
"He, he…" Connor stammered, looking over to Ron to come up with a cover, a lie, a tale. Connor was no good at lying, and not while looking right at his little brother. He couldn't look at Michelangelo, not directly, and him dodging the boy's glance was making him look shifty, untrustworthy, like he was hiding something, and Michelangelo picked up on that instantly.
"What is going on?"
"Your father called off work sick today, Connor here was just dropping by to see if everything was okay, and it is, so no worries," Ron assured but Michelangelo was already looking up the stairs, back the way he had come. "Michael, don't go…damn it!" he cursed as he followed after, Michelangelo hurrying up the stairs towards the upper levels where he would find his father. He didn't like this, his father was ill? He was not well after the moon, but he was on the up and up and in seemingly good spirits after getting both a wand and a job. Calling off on his second day was not like him, Michelangelo knew this, and so he hurried up the many stairs, to find out what was wrong.
"Michael, damn it, listen to me," Ron called after him, keeping his voice down, however, huffing up the stairs at a pace that could not match the slick young Malfoy.
Michelangelo burst onto the top floor and hurried over to his father's door. He had it open and was walking in before Ron's head was even breaking view on the stairs. Panting from his heist, Michelangelo closed the door behind him with a snap, pressing it closed so as trapping his hands behind his back, looking at Ginny who glanced over from the bed. There Draco slept, Ginny sitting up and watching over him. Though he could not see, Michelangelo knew there was something wrong.
"What happened, Ginny?" he asked softly, foregoing his usual curt tones when addressing her, too concerned with his father at the moment as he approached.
"Michael, I hadn't expected you," Ginny said, leaning over Draco some to tuck his hair behind his ear for him as best she could, as though that would make him more presentable, less of a shock to his son. Michelangelo's eyes fell on his father's battered form, however, and not even Ginny's effort could help console him.
"Who did this?" he demanded, bending over the bed slightly to look over his father, seeing the cast on his forearm up by his face as Draco slept in a fetal position. Michelangelo could see the scuffs on Draco's chin, the cut on the bridge of his nose and lip, the blackened eye and the mangled hair. He could only assume the rest of him looked just as bad under the covers.
"We don't know yet, sweetheart," she said sadly, looking down at Draco herself and admitting he certainly did look quite piteous, yet somehow peaceful at the same time as he slept. She could only hope he was dreaming, remembering, something more pleasant than before.
"When did this happen? Last night?"
"When he was leaving work, yes. In Muggle London, someone attacked him, but we do not know who. Don't believe what the papers say about-"
"I never do," Michelangelo snapped, sitting on the edge of the bed like he would compete with Ginny over the right to care for him. He reached down and touched his father's fingers, and Ginny watched him. "I can't believe this has happened again," he growled, and Ginny blinked at him.
"Again?"
"What, he never told you, did he?" Michelangelo barked, though his voice was low as they spoke over Draco. Somehow he didn't seem surprised by this, by how he rubbed it in Ginny's face.
"Michael, I…"
"Never wondered why he walks with such a limp, did you?" he accused and Ginny fought not to glare at his claim.
"I did not ask. Your father doesn't like prying. He tells me things when he is ready," she deflected.
"Doesn't feel ready to tell you everything? Makes me wonder what he thinks of you then."
"Don't-"
"This has happened before, once before, when Dad just got out of Azkaban. Some self-righteous bastards jumped him, beat him real good and left him for dead. Broke him up so bad he was in a wheelchair for eight months. I remember him learning to walk again and how much pain it caused him to just get around the apartment. His hip still causes him a right-bit amount of pain everyday, but he plays it down. I guess you never cared enough to ask," he said, looking back down at his father.
"Don't you dare imply that I do not care about your father, Michelangelo, when I have been up all night looking after him. I went to him at the hospital because it was ME he called for. I dealt with the Ministry there, I deal with the press and gossip everyday, I nearly gave up any good relations I have with my FAMILY to be with him, so don't you DARE accuse me of not caring," she snapped, immediately regretting her shortness with the boy, like she was lowering herself to his level by engaging in a fight by taking his bait, rewarding him for antagonizing her, but she had had enough of his tones, his cold glares, his accusations of not caring.
"He went to work everyday despite his pain and even being in a wheelchair, he gave up sleep so that he could provide for us when all he needed was rest, and he sacrificed his very dignity to have a paycheck so that he could keep me and my sister. You have never done anything for me, Ginny, and all I see is more trouble for my father with you as the root. Oh-please-do forgive me for possibly holding that against you just a wee-bit," he snapped, making it clear he was done talking to her, looking back down at his father and tucking his blankets tight around his thin body.
Ginny felt insulted tears well-up in her eyes but she did not cry. Michelangelo's face so angry, but under that, much like she often saw with Draco, was a helplessness, a sadness there, like he wanted to help but didn't know how, that he wanted to hate, but he didn't know who. She did not take to heart what Michelangelo had said because he was just being honest, and now she felt she might understand better why Michelangelo rejected her as much as he did. Ginny sniffed once as she marveled at what a son Draco had, but was saddened by it at the same time. Draco had been through so much to get to how he was now, and Michelangelo was so young. He seemed far too young to be so bitter. It hurt her to see that in Draco, it pained her to see it in Michelangelo as well.
-----------------------
"We could name him after you?" Ginny offered, Draco putting down his book just to stare at her, long and hard and disbelieving. "It's a nice name, it really grows on you. It's a little odd when you first hear it, but it is charming," she argued.
"I was named after a constellation of all things, by a very evil wizard of all people, and because of it I was tormented for years. Should we have a son, you would want to name him that?" he asked, propped up in bed with Ginny, baby-name books spread out between them as a means of productive distraction and bonding, something positive to think about so as to not have to deal with the negative, not right away at least. Draco was in a lot of pain, unable to get out of bed, and Ginny needed her rest, so to bed with both of them was Narcissa's decree. It was now Thursday night and twenty-four hours since Draco's attack. They weren't even a week from the latest moon and yet so much had happened.
"I still like it," she pouted.
"Thanks, Ginevra," he dismissed, picking up his laid baby-book with his good arm while just scooping with the lame one, and went back to skimming for names that grabbed him.
"You're impossible."
"I am only mildly picky, all Malfoys are."
"Mild is putting it mildly," she scoffed, Draco choosing to ignore that. "Well, how about naming him after a star or constellation at least, sounds amiable, unique,"
"Him, him, him," Draco grumbled. "What of the little girl I asked for?"
"Hey, it is the man who determines the gender, remember that when we have a boy and you want to be grumpy with me," she laughed and Draco grumbled.
"No stars."
"Why not?"
"Because it's silly," he said in a dismissively snooty tone while reading.
"How did you name Michael and Claire?"
"Very easily," he said, but without explanation. Ginny snapped her book closed loudly to demonstrate her eagerness to learn more. "I didn't have to lobby with anyone to pick a name, it was up to me, making it very easy," he then elaborated slightly.
"Your wife didn't have a say?"
"Didn't want a say," Draco corrected. "She said I could name them as I like, and so I did."
"Well, then how did you decide on Michelangelo and Clarissa?"
"Michael is named after several people, as is Clarissa."
"Do tell, I am guessing Michael isn't named after the artist?" Ginny teased.
"No," Draco said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in a fashion that actually reminded Ginny of Harry in many respects. "Clarissa was my little girl, and is named after my mother, and my Grandma Malfoy, Clarence. Means famous, and bright, and Clarissa, sounds like Narcissa…" he explained, Ginny nodding, feeling the name was quite fitting. "Michael is a bit of a combination too, of my uncle Miquel, my mother calling me "angel" and my father given that Michael has by father's name as his middle."
"I didn't know you had an uncle, he isn't on the Black side I'm guessing, he isn't on the tree downstairs," she said and Draco shook his head but regretted it as the room spun.
"No, he was a Malfoy."
"When did he die then?" Ginny asked, knowing Draco was the last of the Malfoys so his uncle was obviously deceased.
"He was my father's twin, actually. Died when they were four," Draco said rather nonchalantly, Ginny staring.
"I didn't know Lucius was a twin."
"Neither did I until I was older. My mum told me, explained to me why she hated it over at the manor so much."
"Why did she?"
"My uncle Miquel died drowning in the lake behind the house. It was one of those tragic fluke things that kind'a warps a family forever. She was so terrified of that lake, I was never allowed near it."
"That's so sad," Ginny said, voice falling to be mopey. Draco just reached over with his hand to hold hers against the mattress for reassurance.
"Don't think on it," he said and Ginny smiled at him warmly, then blinked.
"Wait,"
"Hmm?"
"Your father was a twin," she said and Draco looked at her.
"Yes, I know that dear, I'm the one that just told you, remember?"
"No, no, I mean, does that mean twins run in your family?" she asked and Draco looked at her, then went nose-deep into his book again. "You stupid prat!" she suddenly scolded. "Oh, you are lucky you are in rough shape, mister, otherwise I would be beating you right now!" she laughed, Draco still hunching his shoulders with the book shielding his face as though expecting a slap or two despite his injury. "You know they run in my family, and you knew they clearly ran in yours, and you didn't think to tell me?" she said, placing her hand on her stomach, hoping they hadn't managed twins, praying they hadn't. She loved children, but two at once, two little "ferret-weasels", would be a handful to say the least.
"It came with a rather depressing tale I didn't want to share," he said softly from behind his book, not yet daring to peek out at her.
"You seem unbothered by your uncle's untimely death; I'll admit that it is sad, but-"
"No, I mean a different story," he sighed, eyes dawning over the top edge of the book, glasses glinting in the fire-light.
"You are just full of depressing stories, Draco," Ginny sighed, letting the humor drain away from her so she would be prepared to handle this next, new, obviously dismal revelation she would have with Draco. Every day she learned something new about him, and every day it seems to get more and more dreary.
"It's the sad fate that has befallen my life, unfortunately. I have some happy ones to share I suppose, to make up for it," he offered.
"You shouldn't apologize to me for things you had no control over, Draco, things that aren't fair to you," she said, leaning into the pillows, holding her stomach, ready for the worst Draco could throw at her.
"You mentally prepped enough yet?" he drawled and Ginny eyed at him crossways, wishing he wouldn't be a tease if this was really going to be as bad as he was making it out to be.
"Ready as ever, luv," she answered.
"First you have to promise me that you will never repeat this, not to anyone," he said, Ginny able to pick up on his urgency very easily and knew he wasn't teasing now.
"I promise," she said, heart a little fluttered, sure that a story starting off like this wasn't one she was going to enjoy, the weight building with each second that dragged by.
Draco sighed.
"I ask that you not tell anyone because, well, my mother doesn't know this, no one in my family knows actually, and I would rather it stay that way," he said and Ginny nodded, waiting for Draco to explain. "I already have a set of twins," he said and Ginny looked at Draco, perplexed.
"What?"
"Me, I am already the father of twins," he said and Ginny's eyes widened.
"You're not telling me Michael and Claire are actually-"
"No," Draco said, shaking his head.
"Then, who?"
"I didn't know about it right away, I wasn't told," he started to explain. He stopped, however, and his face got a little stony, but for the crease between his eyes, showing just how broken up he really was. Ginny reached over to hold his hand. "My wife told me, when she found out she was pregnant with Claire," he said and Ginny looked at him. Draco looked over at her, and nothing was said for a long drawn out moment. Ginny's intake of breath was really loud, and Draco knew she had it figured out.
"Are you telling me Michael is a twin?" she asked, Draco granting her only the barest of nods. "Then what…" she dared to ask but trailed off. Draco hadn't known at first? What did that mean? Did she want to know? It was too late because she had already basically asked.
"My wife hid the fact that she was pregnant for five months, so that was five months she went without Wolfsbane. When she finally was administered it on a regular basis, it was too far into the pregnancy do as much good as it could have. When she gave birth, the first baby born was dead," Draco explained, looking down at his lap. Ginny's heart broke. "Michael followed after within a few moments, alive, but weak. He was tiny, and extremely underweight. Something like two and a half pounds. He was full to term but he had been the smaller, more dominated of the two twins. He couldn't breath on his own, couldn't even cry. He spent three months in the hospital and barely made it through those first three fulls," Draco explained and Ginny held his hand tighter. "I was told of Michael's weak health, but not of his dead brother, my wife…" he said, taking a moment to swallow, "Christina didn't want to burden me with such unnecessary worries when I was concerned enough as it was with Michael. She didn't want to compound or confirm any of my fears," he said.
"I'm so sorry, Draco," Ginny whispered, holding his good hand tightly in both of hers then. Draco just shook his head.
"I wasn't as crushed by the news as Christina thought I would be, I guess. She told me, and I was shocked, I was sad, but I still had Michael, so I was able to cling to that. He was already out of the hospital by then, and I was able to hold him in my arms, so I was able to deal," he said and Ginny was waiting for the but. "But," he said, shaking his head, "I did a really stupid thing that I will always regret."
"What?" Ginny asked.
"I went to see him," Draco explained and Ginny blinked.
"The grave?" she asked. Draco shook his head.
"He was not buried."
"What do you mean? Why not?"
"I was in a lot of trouble for having a baby…a lot of trouble Ginny," Draco said, not explaining as to how much. "Christina hid her first pregnancy because she knew the guards would force an abortion on her, but the cost of that was she lost one of the babies, almost both. To save me from the most terrible of punishments, Christina had to make a decision, on her own. She gave our dead son to the Ministry, the Beast Division, to…to study," he said, looking like he was going to be ill, Ginny looking wide-eyed in horror.
"You can't be serious…"
"They made it clear her options, and there were no good ones. She made the choice without me, and when I learned of it, once I was out of Azkaban, I went to see him, see if I could find him. I don't know why I did it, I was so stupid," Draco said, sounding angry with himself.
"You wanted to see your son, you don't have to make excuses Draco," she comforted, trying to fight this awful feeling that was choking at her throat.
"It was such a terrible thing to see…that jar…his body…the…" Draco seemed to choke on his words for a second. "It was a mistake that will never leave me," Draco admitted, slowly shaking his head, wishing he hadn't due to how much it hurt.
"I'm sorry, Draco," Ginny said, her voice showing the first signs of tears. She knew she couldn't cry and comfort him at the same time, but maybe they could cry together, maybe that would be a comfort in of itself.
"They called him W.I.A.M." he said, pronouncing the letters out, "short for `Werewolf Infant, Appellation: Malfoy', which at some point graduated into them calling him William," he said, almost smiling then but it a sad smile.
"William?"
"You promised you wouldn't tell anyone," he reminded her and Ginny looked horrified that she was to be held to that still.
"Michael doesn't know?" Draco shook his head. "You never even told your mother?"
"I can't imagine any good coming from it, she would just get upset over something so long past and unchangeable. I rather not spread the dread around, so to speak," he sighed.
"But Draco, to bear a burden like this alone…That's terrible."
"I have you now, though," he said, looking at her in a way that made Ginny want to cater to anything Draco wanted, needed, desired. She grabbed his good hand and held it tight, and Draco smiled at her, letting her in rather than pushing her away, sharing something terrible but gaining something wonderful. He told himself he was doing the right thing, no matter how much it hurt, and he was reassured by the love he found deep in Ginny's soulful brown eyes.
"I like this new openness about you, Draco," Ginny praised, Draco feeling so rewarded, so appreciated. "It makes me feel so safe, and accepted, like you finally feel I am worthy to be close to you," she said and Draco's eyes frowned at the realization that Ginny had believed as though he felt her unworthy, untrustworthy, of being close. He had never meant to hurt her like that, but he had been selfish. "It makes me realize that I too have to let you in more," she said and Draco just shook his head, ready to assure her she needed to do nothing short of what she had already been doing, which had been so much more than him at this point. "No, darling, listen," she said, taking a deep breath. "I have a tragic story too, one that I should share with you as you have with me," she said and Draco did not pry, though he caught himself attempting to and had to stop. It wasn't fair of him to look into her and know something she was barely ready to share with him.
Draco gave her hand a squeeze, and Ginny snuggled closer to him, but not too close given how much pain he was in. Just breathing hurt him so. She realized Draco's wife hadn't told him about little William while Michelangelo was so sick and weak because she hadn't wanted to compound his worries, and Ginny knew she was doing the same thing. She knew this wasn't fair, however. Harry had pointed it out to her already, but Draco's bear honesty drove that point home. Keeping pain secret from one another was not the best foundation to start a family on. They needed each other.
"I was married to Harry for five years, five rocky years, but in the months leading up to the divorce we were the happiest we had ever been," she explained. "You see, we were going to have a baby," she admitted and Draco blinked at her in the exact same way Ginny had him with his admittance. "Things seemed like they could mend, things seemed like they could get better, but then…then I lost the baby," she said, a weak and shaky breath escaping her. Draco took to rubbing her arm then because he couldn't hug her. "The healers couldn't give me a real reason why it happened; just that it was a terrible thing to happen to someone as young as me. Harry was devastated at the loss, and I was left feeling as though I were to blame. I know now that he never blamed me, but at the time, because he couldn't bear to even look at me, I had believed him to hate me for it. The marriage dissolved at that point, and the family didn't side with me in the divorce, and I was left feeling SO alone. I had lost my baby, my husband, and my family wouldn't speak to me. The papers were saying all the most terrible things, and I had no where to turn for comfort," she wept, unable to hold it together any longer and Draco succumbing to his desire and wrapped his good arm around her, his broken lifted to just be up against her, his ribs screaming in agony at holding her against his chest but Draco refusing to let go.
"I am so sorry my love," he whispered into her hair, where his lips were buried, planting a firm kiss in the roots, her scent filling his sinuses and lungs, her tears dampening his arm. She was so strong, he knew this, but now knowing the things she had faced -the sorts of things that had broken him down- he could appreciate her will, her drive, her bravery and passion that much more. He couldn't think of a stronger woman, a firmer rock for him to cling to.
"I have you now, though," she said as Draco had just to her, clinging to him at this moment, and he nodded.
"Of course you do, love. Always," he promised, rocking her slightly, not crying himself, just allowing himself to open a channel between Ginny and him, to allow their pain to flow between them, and their love to seep through and overcome it. Ginny was left there sniffing, Draco rubbing her arm.
"It's okay if you want to cry," he comforted, knowing Ginny had stopped herself.
"I don't want to cry," she refuted, though the tears were still audible in her voice.
"Come on, you do. I do. You can cry, then I can cry," he teased and Ginny managed a weak laugh. They cuddled there for a moment, not crying, and eventually Ginny smiled.
"I still want to name him after you," she said, Draco's eyes popping open, then ready to make an argument of this again.
Author's Note:
Guess what? IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! Thus the speedy update.
Do I want reviews on this chapter for my birthday? YES!
The Author's note is juicy and fun and found here:
http://draconisangelus.livejournal.com/9222.html
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