Fallen Angel
Chapter 09
"Daddy got a job!" Clarissa so kindly announced halfway through the lunch, once enough time had passed that she realized Draco wasn't going to do so himself. She didn't see why her father would not be sharing the wonderful news and gloating over the accomplishment. She felt he was just being modest, which was a silly virtue in her opinion.
"What?" Ginny said, her fork halfway to her mouth but now forgotten as she stared at Draco.
"It's nothing," he dismissed. "I didn't want to say anything until I made sure that is wasn't just going to turn into a `sorry, our mistake,' situation. I really didn't think I needed to spread the disappointment around," he elaborated bashfully.
"Well, where is it?" Michelangelo asked, happy for his father but able to share his skepticism too. The boys were so much alike.
"Albus Dumbledore Library," Draco said and Michelangelo made a face and Ginny raised her eyebrows.
"You want to be a Librarian?' she asked.
"It was a position that was open, so I applied. I could have just as easily been a baker -if I it was legal for me to be around food- or a florist…and don't look at me like that," he said, pointing his fork at her. "I was classified a librarian and historian while working for the Ministry."
"This calls for a celebration," Ginny said with a smile.
"No, no!" Draco hissed, shaking his head and waving his hands in a crossing out motion.
"Yes, oh, I will owl Lupin and Tonks first, since they will be the happiest to hear…and then my family, oh they will be so thrilled! We can have some wine, and cake and…" Ginny said, trailing off in her glee, Draco just slumping in his chair, a little embarrassed. He was excited, but he didn't want to get his hopes up so high…he had been disappointed too many times in the past, Ginny obviously hadn't. She would learn, though the thought made him sad.
"I am happy for you, Father," Michelangelo said, that air of sophistication about him, but his sincerity known to Draco without Michelangelo having to express it.
"Me more," Clarissa chimed in, smiling broadly in her squinty-eyed fashion.
"Thank you," he said, still digging at his food where the rest of them had finished already. Moments passed, and with Draco only having taken a single bite, Michelangelo sighed.
"Can I go to the Quidditch shop, please," he asked, drawing out the word `please' considerably, unable to sit there and watch his father pick apart his food into the tiniest bits and nibble at it at the slowest pace imaginable any longer.
"We are attempting to have a nice family lunch together, Michael," Draco reminded him, implying that it couldn't be a `nice family lunch' without him there, Ginny adding onto that more of the reason.
"You are in enough trouble already; we won't have you wondering around on your own. That privilege has been revoked," she said quite simply as she sat there, wishing herself that Draco could eat whole bites rather than the nibbles he managed, but couldn't complain because he was eating, so she would wait.
Michelangelo huffed.
"I could go with him," Clarissa offered and Michelangelo didn't look elated over that, but still looked to his father to see if that was an agreeable proposition.
"I would rather not have my two darling children out and about, unsupervised, in Diagon Alley with the paparazzi out as they are. Ginny would need to be with Michael at the very least, if not me anyways."
"Oh, come on, I can keep Michael out of trouble and I want to see the shop too," Clarissa argued.
"We can go there together after lunch," Ginny said and Draco nodded as he was taking a bit of his salad and therefore his mouth was preoccupied.
"I think you and Daddy should have a bit of alone-time right now. I mean, he has a job now, you have the baby news, and you can tolerate his slow eating…the shop is just across the street," she said, despite her chiming voice, her proposal astutely expressed.
Draco just raised his eyebrows and tilted his head over to look at Ginny to make the call.
"Oh no, don't you dare leave this decision up to me and make me out to be the bad guy," she said, crossing her arms. They were his children, he could tell them no.
"Sure, why not," he said and Ginny sighed. Then again, maybe he couldn't. Clarissa stood and Michelangelo followed suit, not ecstatic over the fact that his little sister would be babysitting him, but glad enough to be getting out of there.
"Come on now, if you are not going to hold to your punishment, at least take into consideration the press that is out there who would pounce on them if caught alone," Ginny fumed at Draco before the children even had a chance to procure a hasty retreat.
"What do I care if someone takes my picture?" Michelangelo asked, sounding quite arrogant. "The more girls who see it the better if you ask me," he said and Draco put the back of his hand that held his fork in front of his mouth and he propped his elbow up on the table, to hide his smile.
Ginny saw through that though, as the children departed, and smacked his upper arm with the back of her hand, knocking her elbow out from under him.
"And you are encouraging him," she barked.
"Oh, he likes the attention, for the time being, so let him," Draco said, still smiling and hoping it would ease Ginny down. It didn't.
"He is in trouble, the point is he isn't supposed to be enjoying himself," he disputed.
"Making him feel like crap won't fix him or change what he has done, and he is going to a court hearing in less than a week where his punishment will be dished out, so why should I deny him the simple pleasure of some fresh air on a nice day?" he asked and Ginny huffed. Draco abandoned his meal to slide along the bench to be up against her, and stuck his nose behind her ear. "Besides, maybe I really just wanted you alone with me for a moment," he whispered, his tongue darting out to flick the back of her ear and causing her to shudder and take a deep breath.
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Michelangelo and Clarissa were instantly amidst a crowd of paparazzi the second they exited the restaurant, them all waiting for the family to exit. What they got were just the children and though they were not the focus of their two biggest stories at the moment, this was the first time any of them had seen them alone, without Draco or Ginny, or some other family member and guardian there to shield them. They saw the golden opportunity to "interview" them and jumped on it.
"Michael, Claire-sweetie," they called, the children hoping to cross the street. They didn't even look over at the people that swarmed around them at their backs. "Out on your own for a moment?" they asked, neither child saying anything. "How do you feel about the new baby?" they pressed. Clarissa just glanced over at them but they otherwise did not respond.
"Do you two have the same mother?" another asked and Michelangelo's expression darkened. "Do you know who she is? Could you tell us her name?" they asked, using friendly, condescending tones that adults often used when trying to manipulate children. They didn't realize the intelligence or maturity of the children they were dealing with.
"Don't you dear speak about my mother," Michelangelo finally fumed and Clarissa spun around to grab his wrist. There was that Malfoy temper to take into consideration too.
"Come on," she said, shaking her head. "Don't give them the satisfaction, don't even speak to them," she said, pulling him along.
Michelangelo glared at the photographers as he was lead along, almost daring them to leave their station and follow after. The paparazzi looked torn between continuing with the children, or waiting out there to catch Draco and Ginny.
"Honestly, how dare they ask such things? Write what they like, but to interrogate someone like that on the street? Blurt out personal questions for all to hear? Who the hell do they think they are?" Michelangelo demanded as the entered the bright shop, not caring that those already inside would overhear him.
"They are soulless scoundrels," Clarissa dismissed, letting go of her brother to look at a rack of Quidditch robes that were done up in a girly fashion so that they looked the same as any boy's, but in shades of pink.
"Yet you have never shown any qualms over playing up to their cameras in the past," Michelangelo bit back.
"You can't deny that you too enjoy the attention to some degree or another, Michael, so forgive me for attempting to present to the media a more flattering public face," she snapped, her girlish tones dropped considerably without her father there, but her voice still high and chiming regardless. She was only eleven after all.
"You shouldn't care what the public thinks."
"But I do, and so does Dad, and Ginny, and so do you."
"No I don't."
"Yes you do, everyone does. If someone says otherwise, they are either a fool, or a liar," she said, abandoning the robes to wonder further into the shop. Michelangelo looked around from side to side quickly before following after her.
"Fine, I am no fool. But if they get a picture of me looking surly, or a quote of me telling them off, it's what they deserve even if they think I'm a bit of a bastard for saying what everyone is already thinking. What do I care?"
"That is your problem, Michael, you don't care, but Dad does. You seem oblivious to the fact that -through your actions- you cause those around you a lot of grief."
"I know I have done some stupid shit this last month, and Dad is stressed, but…"
"But nothing, Michael. You react to things like Ginny and such harshly, and you feel you are right and justified because you are only taking your own feelings into consideration. You don't like how Ginny is equating into the family, so regardless of how any of the rest of us feels about her, you rebel. You feel Dad doesn't treat you like a man, so you go against what he explicitly tells you, and you end up in trouble and more limitations are placed on you, and you somehow still manage to complain that he doesn't trust you. This kind of narcissism you exude does not bode well for someone who claims to want to be treated like a man rather than a boy," she snapped upon spinning at him. "I get it, you are in that transitional period between being a boy, and a man, and your maturity teeters between the two…but for your own sake if not for our father's, please, grow up!" she said before turning and storming away, leaving Michelangelo to stand there, outraged that his sister would speak to him in such a way, the shop keeper looking over at them and Michelangelo's face reddening in embarrassment now on top of anger.
"Oh," he said, ready to make an argument out of this. "Like you are one to talk about maturity, when you can't even act your age around Dad," he retaliated, following after her. "Have you EVER even had an actual conversation with him without your baby-voice and talk of dancing unicorns and sugar-plums? It's always `Daddy' this, and `Daddy' that, and you think I need to grow up?"
"Just because I play up to Dad's love for a sweet and darling daughter does not mean I have the maturity and understanding of a child. Maybe if you expended a little more effort into being a darling son any man could be proud of -say half as much as you invest in being a selfish jackarse- maybe Dad would have a little less stress in his life!"
"Oh, you mean to blame all Dad's stress on me?"
"Well you are certainly not helping anything now are you? You do not have to fix his problems, but not adding to them certainly shows you care."
"I do care!"
"Then maybe you should act like it, starting with caring a little more how you are portrayed in the media because that is a direct reflection of our father and his parenting skills to the rest of the world who don't know us."
Michelangelo narrowed his eyes.
"But how dare they ask about our mother!" he argued.
"Just ignore them. They want a story, and why give them one? If not by your words, by your pictures. If all they have are nasty, scowling pictures of you, they are going to build stories about you being some kind of surly horrible son."
"It doesn't bother you that we do not even know who our mother is?" Michelangelo pressed, ignoring Clarissa's point to press on with this question that he needed an answer.
"What does it matter? She died when we were too young to remember her, and Dad doesn't like talking about her so it is not likely that he is withholding anything we would even want to know," Clarissa said dismissively cold, picking up a Quaffle and tossing it in her hands, Michelangelo and her in the back corner of the shop now.
"Don't you ever wonder why Dad never talks about her? What happened between them or how she died?"
"Not really," Clarissa said quite honestly. "You can't change the past, and I can't see the answers bringing me any kind of happiness, there no way being a happy ending out of a tale of our mother's murder, so why bother knowing at all? It will only make us sad."
"Life isn't about happy endings, Claire."
"No, but it is about maintaining happiness in a world as shitty and unfair as this, so sue me for trying to maintain the little bit of stability I have in my life."
"We don't even know her name," Michelangelo then said, voice more defeated, like he was not drawing any comfort from his sister, like finding that she had no desire to know their mother disappointed him and made him `wrong' for wanting to know.
"McGucken. Her name was McGucken," Clarissa said, looking at her brother, ceasing in her tossing of the red ball to frown her brows at him.
"A last name, that's all we have. We don't even know what she looks like, Dad doesn't even have a picture," he said, letting his sister know how desperate he was to know his origins.
"Why are you so bothered by this now? You have never once spoken to me about any desire -beyond simple curiosity- to learn about our mother."
"The fact that the media doesn't know, the fact that Dad can't bare mention her, the fact that Nana is so dead set over pretending she never even existed…it's like some great conspiracy, to keep from us who she was. I agree with you when you say it can't be for any reason but a terribly upsetting one that she has not been shared with us, but I can't live my life not knowing who my mother was," he said, Clarissa just tilting her head and feeling sad for him. She could not relate to him like he clearly so desperately desired. He expected to be able to share this with her, and have her relate completely, and support him in this. Instead he felt alienated by these feelings of his. He almost looked ashamed as he finally looked down, away from her.
"You remember her, don't you," Clarissa said, Michelangelo not looking up being answer enough. "Michael…"
"I was three when she died…you were two…" he said and Clarissa bit her bottom lip. "I remember her: the shape of her shoulder as she carried me as I would lean my cheek against it. I remember her smell, and her hair…" he said, hugging his arms.
"Is that why you hate Ginny so much? You remember mum, and you can't accept anyone else to take her place?" Clarissa asked, knowing that there was almost nothing more important to a werewolf than smell when it came to their relationships with one another, and a pup knowing his mother's scent was central to his feeling of safety and support.
Michelangelo just shook his head. "No…it is because, when I see Ginny, I think of what I can remember of mum, but the more I see Ginny, the more she takes over those memories I have, and the less I can remember," he said, eyes stinging. There must be a lot of dust in the air or something, because it was making his nose runny too.
"Michael," Clarissa soothed, dropping the ball to hug her brother, him allowing her, but not allowing himself to cry.
"I'm afraid I am going to forget her completely soon," he said, breath just a little shaky but nothing more.
Clarissa didn't know what she could say to him in comfort because she had no way of understanding how he felt, had no way of knowing what he was going through. Ginny was her mother, because she was the only mother she had ever known…but Michelangelo had known their mother, and he couldn't withstand the thought of losing what little he had of her, even if the exchange was gaining a mother in Ginny. Clarissa just hugged him, having learned from her father that nothing healed an aching heart better than a hug from someone who loved you dearly.
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Draco sat with Ginny, alone now at their table, and they laughed. They were in a serious relationship, yet they still flirted like they were in the first stages of dating, if even that. They flirted like they were still a forbidden romance, and it was cute to behold. Draco could get Ginny to blush, then he would laugh and look down, and she would tuck his hair behind his ear so she could better see his face, and he would catch her hand before she could pull it away and kiss it, and she would then laugh and bite her bottom lip.
"You look beautiful today," he said and she shook her head, rolling her eyes. "No, I won't have you dismissing that, you are beautiful. Your skin glows, your hair is so soft and bright, your smile reaches your eyes…"
"Please, I am seven months pregnant," she laughed.
"I did not realize pregnant was synonymous with grotesquely hideous," he teased and Ginny pinched him.
"Prat."
"Ah, see? That's how I know you love me. You think I'm a prat and yet still fuck me," he said and Ginny blushed and look around as though someone would be near to overhear them.
"I think that makes me a whore, more than assures my love for you," she argued, looking down her nose at him in a challenging way.
"Well, you're my whore," he said, reaching around to grab her by the bum and slide her closer to him so he could plant his lips on her neck and throat, kissing and breathing on her skin, causing her to giggle as she tilted her head back. They were alone, and in a dark corner of the restaurant, but still, this was rather bold behavior for anyone in a public place.
"Then you are my man-whore," she said as Draco squeezed her bum.
"I thought I was a prat?" he argued.
"You can't be both?"
"Well, you are a bitch as well, so I guess it's possible," he said and Ginny leaned down to bite his shoulder then, rather hard.
"Ow, bitch," he said, shoving her but her grabbing his upper arms and pulling him with her so that he leaned forward and she could plant a good strong kiss on his lips. She loved his lips, always so easily formed into a pout, so ready to pull into a smirk. She loved sucking on the bottom to make it a little fuller, a little pinker. He had perfectly kissable lips. Draco couldn't complain about Ginny's himself.
They carried on for a moment before finally settling, Draco keeping his hand on Ginny's inner-thigh, however, both acting as though they had behaved the whole time, nothing to see there.
"Do you think the children are behaving?" Ginny asked.
"Come on now, they are mine," Draco said, looking at her and Ginny smiled and nodded.
"So that means we should get going soon, so as to get them out of whatever trouble they have found themselves in?"
"In a moment, I haven't finished my…" Draco said as he looked up but he didn't finish because there was a woman before him, and she was throwing a drink in his face from across the table.
Ginny gasped as she too was splashed a little, but to no degree like Draco who had gotten a face full and was now sitting there with his mouth open in outrage as he looked across the table but not quite at the woman, his eyes burning with the liquor and it now drizzled from his chin.
"That is for Albus Dumbledore," the woman fumed, retreating almost instantly so as not to be retaliated after making her purpose known.
"What? Are you kidding me?" Ginny shouted, standing from the table but Draco just reaching over without looking at her, grabbing her wrist to prevent her from going after the woman.
"No, don't," he said, wiping his eyes and blinking rapidly, face dripping, the front pieces of his hair stringing, the collar and front of his shirt sopping.
"What the hell…? Who does she think she is?" Ginny fumed, voice carrying across the establishment so the woman could plainly hear her.
"Please, it is just a drink. I have had far worse things thrown in my face, the least hurtful of which being insults. Please, sit," Draco said, pulling on Ginny's wrist. She sat, and grabbed her cloth napkin while doing so, starting on immediately dabbing at Draco's face.
"I can't believe she would just do that!" Ginny continued to rant, Draco looking up at her through his pale stringing hair.
"You have not gone out with me much on the street. This is not that uncommon of an occurrence," he assured her, as though it would make her feel better to know this was not as bad as what he had endured in the past. It didn't.
"How can people be so close-minded and hateful? She doesn't even know you! Do you know her?"
"No, but I don't have to, because everyone knows who I am, or they at least think they do. They can recognize me, which to them signifies their knowing me, enough to judge me, enough to take it upon themselves to do something," he said, looking down at his black, long-sleeved t-shirt and whipping at the wetness on his chest.
"You seem so accepting of this," Ginny said, sounding sad now, not liking that Draco was not throwing a fit like she would imagine just about anyone else doing.
Draco looked up at her and blinked those beautiful blue eyes at her that were a little reddened from the drink. He then sighed, knowing he was not living up to his past-persona's reputation for instantaneous indignation. He was a lot meeker now than he was as a young man, and that seemed to bewilder Ginny in many ways, like she still couldn't quite believe much of that had been an act, like she rather believe his timidity was an act now. Sadly, it wasn't.
"I am just happy that it was simply some drink and not Bubotuber Pus like that one time, or…"
"Oh my God, are you serious?" Ginny gasped. Draco just looked at her with this sad expression like she knew he couldn't be cruel enough to just make this up given how upset it was obviously making her. "Why are people so mean?"
"Because I am a werewolf, and a Death Eater, and I was a bit of a bastard when I was young."
"So?"
Draco just shrugged while standing, not sure he could say anything that would get Ginny to understand if she couldn't grasp it yet on her own.
"Let's go before they start tossing cutlery at us next," he said, attempting to be funny, but Ginny not laughing.
"I think you are a wonderful man, Draco, and I don't like that you don't stand up for yourself like you would have years ago, like you should," Ginny said and she linked arms with him.
"My father isn't here for me to threaten people with anymore, Gin. Telling people `wait until my father hears about this' worked then, but only minimally after a while, and a threat from a short fifty-pound albino gets more laughs than anything," he said quite blandly as he lead her away, past the table where the woman and her party were seated, so as to maybe display the baby belly Draco was certainly more than proud of. The woman and her company looked a little outraged at what a site Ginny made, as pregnant as she was, and Draco couldn't help a narrow-eyed smirk as he passed, chin held high in his accomplishment.
"Thank you," he said once past them, reaching up with his free arm to grab the hand that was link with his arm and gave it a squeeze. Ginny believed in him, and that gave him the strength to be proud of who he was, something he sometimes struggled with.
They were off to find his children and see what trouble they had caused, or what trouble had found them.
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"Come on, Mikey," Clarissa laughed as she ran ahead of her brother, dodging through the crowd of Diagon Alley with no consideration for who they were cutting off.
"Don't call me Mikey," he called after her in warning, in hot pursuit.
"You are going to have to catch me to stop me, Mikey," she laughed, disappearing between two very obtuse and stout witches, Michelangelo having to find another way around that would not cost him time or lose her. "Come on, you're faster than this!" she laughed, Michelangelo appearing just beside her but still behind her. She was looking back at him and didn't see that she was about to collide with someone until it was too late. With an "umph" and a stumble Clarissa bounced off the man's sizable posterior and allowed Michelangelo to catch up with her. He caught his sister by the arm and they both looked up at the man with whom they had collided.
"Excuse me," he said with a chuckle as he turned around, his massiveness rotating to reveal a camera hung around his neck and resting against his round stomach. Michelangelo leaned over -his sister being considerably shorter than him now- and directed her to get behind him as he placed himself in front, protectively.
"Well, well, if it isn't the wee-Malfoys. I heard you were out today with your father and his girlfriend Miss Ginny. I feared I had missed you while on other duty," he said, raising his camera to point it down at them.
"I will ask you kindly to point that camera elsewhere, sir," Michelangelo said curtly, in a fashion befitting a Malfoy. The man just smiled, ready to click away anyways, but a commotion grabbed his attention and he turned away.
"Duty calls," he said, raising his camera and flashing it repeatedly along with several others around that were then revealed to be paparazzi as well.
"What duty?" Clarissa asked softly, looking up at her brother. Michelangelo shushed her as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her along with him, pushing through the crowed to see what the commotion was. They had left their father and Ginny back the way they had come, so who else could be in Diagon Alley and demanding so much attention? Michelangelo did not envy them, but he was certainly intrigued enough to pursue the answer.
Clarissa was pulled along, and Michelangelo emerged on the other side to find a small opening before some stairs. They were back at Gringott, and above them were two men, one holding his hands up as though to direct all comments and questions to him, and another dressed respectfully but cheaply, standing not far behind the man's shoulder, looking a little amazed as though he were not used to this kind of attention but reveling in it all the same.
"Mr. Kniklock, Kniklock! How do you feel about the fine? Was it fair?" a man called out, Michelangelo looking over at the one who was shouting then up at the man they were calling to, his eyes darkening.
"He is the man that took the picture," Clarissa whispered before gasping and grabbing Michelangelo by the back of the shirt and holding him back. "No, don't make a scene," she warned, planting her feet and Michelangelo glaring up at the man with eyes of cold fire.
"I did not realize I was breaching Ministry Security at the time, but I do feel terrible about the headache I caused them, so I do not blame them for carrying out their reprimand. It is only fair," the man said as though his words were highly practiced, his lawyer -the well dressed man beside him- apparently approved as he ran his hands down his robes' lapel in a satisfied manner.
More questions erupted.
"How much did you sell the photos for?"
"Now we can't be talking about that," the lawyer chuckled in a good-friends sort of way that made him seem like a pal but it was as fake as a two-horned unicorn.
"Why not?" Michelangelo barked over the crowed, his young, angry voice standing out enough for those around him, and the two men up on the stairs, to look over at him.
"Michael," Clarissa hissed at him, grabbing his upper arm then.
"Why not tell these people how much money you made off of blatantly violating Ministry security and exploiting my father?" he demanded, holding his free arm out to indicate the people that would like to know the answer.
"Ah, Michelangelo Malfoy," Agreus Kniklock said with a smile, showing no ill contempt as he addressed the boy calmly. "Oh, I have heard a lot about you, and your temper," he said, the reporters all around muttering at that, everyone there aware of the trouble Michelangelo had recently found himself in, one of them even possibly being the one who had penned that particular article.
"Michael," Clarissa pleaded, pulling on her brother's arm.
"So? How much? Certainly enough to afford that ghoul of a lawyer, enough that this fine didn't even dent your account, enough that you can walk out of the bank after making this withdrawal and have a smile on your face!" he growled, everyone looking between him and Kniklock on the stairs.
"You better watch yourself, boy. Your father is not the only one I took pictures of, but the only one I sold. You have quite the reputation at twelve, and though I have ethics against exploiting children-"
"But not adults, not my father…"
"I know people who keep tabs on you who would love my pictures," he warned.
"Is that a threat?" Michelangelo barked, taking a step forward and pulling his sister along with him.
"Michael, please," she said, knowing that this scene would not reflect well on anyone involved, nor their father, who would have nothing to do with this and yet have it all turned against.
"I wouldn't threaten a child…but then again, you are a werewolf," the man snapped, his lawyer attempting to step in, but freezing and staring in shock as Michelangelo drew his wand and pointed it at Kniklock. The crowd reacted in gasps and flashes, but no one stepped in.
"Michael, no!" Clarissa begged as Michelangelo stepped forward some but otherwise made no move in attacking the man.
"I may be a werewolf, but I am a better person than you, and my father is a better man than you could ever hope to be," he growled, teeth bared slightly.
"What would the son of a Death Eater know of decency?" the man snapped back, his lawyer turning his back on Michelangelo to grab his client by the shoulders and shake his head while muttering not to say another word.
Draco and Ginny having heard the commotion after leaving the eatery, and Draco's perception wide open to understand without seeing a thing what was happening, pushed forward to thwart his son's attempt at defending his -Draco's- honor before something really bad happened. Ginny came forward into the opening to be closest to Michelangelo and Clarissa, and gasped while reaching for the boy as he moved his wand.
"Michael," she shouted, fearing he would do something stupid.
He did, but instead of casting a spell, however, Michelangelo dropped his wand to his side as he rushed forward up the few steps to be right up on the man who was distracted by his lawyer's advice, leaving him to turn and widen his eyes in surprise as Michelangelo grunted in effort and kneed the man in the groin.
Kniklock cursed and grabbed himself, falling practically to his knees as he crushed his eyes shut, Draco behind his son within milliseconds, grabbing him by the shoulders and roughly pulling him backwards and down a step so that he was away from the man. Flashes were erupting from all directions and reflected off of Draco's sunglasses as Michelangelo stood there, breathing heavily in his anger, not fighting against his father's hold as he glared at the fallen man. He did not protest as his father practically dragged him backwards, through the crowd and back towards the Leaky Cauldron, though he did try and keep his eyes on the man for as long as he could.
Clarissa followed after with Ginny, both girls looking worried and distraught, Draco's face concealed by chic shades and a bland but stern mask, not letting Michelangelo walk on his own -unaided- even once they were in the thinned out crowed and nearly back to Muggle London.
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Draco was pulling on a clean shirt of a rich emerald green while Ginny stepped from the shower. She was hot, and Draco was in long sleeves. Just looking at him she sweated. She couldn't imagine how he could do it; then again, he was so thin he was always chilled.
"I can't believe what a scene Michael made," she said for the ten thousandth time that afternoon, but the first since she had returned from her refreshing shower, which was but mere seconds before, however. "He is lucky Kniklock is not pressing charges, or hasn't yet at least," she said, Draco just sitting down on the bed to brush his hair, the unmistakable sign that he was trying to hide a smile apparent on his face. "And you don't seem mad at all," she accused, Draco just looking up at her with slightly amused eyes. "You are proud of him, because he did all that in defense of you," she said and he just looked back at his knees and parted his hair while still brushing it. "I can't see how your son assaulting a man in full view of the public, of reporters, and the paparazzi is anything to be flattered by, or proud of," she huffed.
"He did the exact same thing as I would have done in that situation, only I would have been dumb enough to hex the guy and been in some real trouble then," he said, tucking his hair behind his ear to then work on the other side, tilting his head, the ends of his hair dragging across his lap.
"Draco-"
"Lest you forget that my father was sent to Azkaban, and shamed in the press by it," he said and Ginny frowned at him. "I had to endure the ridicule of the papers, and the harsh questions of the reporters. My picture was taken, and terrible stories were written about me, and my family, and my friends."
"Draco, just because you suffered through much the same thing, does not excuse what Michelangelo did," she argued thought it was weak.
"That man got what was coming to him, and if Michael hadn't done something, I likely would have, and this mess still would have happened, only the story going on about how I had laid the guy out with a punch to the face right there on the steps of Gringott."
"Still," she pressed, rubbing her head vigorously with the towel, Draco taking time to observe her bare breasts and their movement as she did so.
"Please," he said, standing to be behind her, to hold her against him like he always did, hands on her tummy, nose behind her ear. "Today is a good day, lets not ruin it," he pleaded.
"Good day? Draco…"
"The baby news broke, I have a job, Clarissa got a wand, the weather was lovely…lets no dwell on the bad," he said, rocking side to side with her. "Come on," he said, feeling how tense she was still, hands on her damp skin.
"You are not going to punish him for this, are you?" she asked in a mildly defeated, more sort of fed-up tone.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he sighed into her neck, nibbling at it and Ginny just dropping the towel and giving up. Draco would handle his son any way he saw fit, though if it were her in charge, that boy's rump would be so raw from the wallop she would give him, he wouldn't be able to sit until his fifth year OWLs.
"Get dressed, Remus and Nymphadora will be here soon, Derrick and Marcus are already waiting," he said, kissing the skin he had just nibbled at before pulling away.
"You up for this?"
"Hey, it was your idea to throw a revelry," he said, waving his hand in an aloof motion as he exited the room. "It's just an excuse to drink."
"You are sober," she warned.
"For another short few moments or so," he called back, Ginny just shaking her head and searching for her most supportive bra.
"Congrats Dre!" Nymphadora laughed as she pulled her cousin into a hug once he was barely down the stairs. She had just tripped over the troll-leg umbrella stand and was joined by Lupin who had made it past without indecent.
"Thank you," he said, hugging her back. She didn't let go, so he just held out his hand while still in a hug with her, shaking Lupin's and smiling from around his cousin.
"You managed the near impossible," he praised, Draco laughing.
"I had little to do with it, Remus, Oliver Wood is the one who talked to the lout who is now my boss and convinced him to hire me…given that, I'm not sure how smooth-flying this will be, thus I remain reserved," he said and Nymphadora finally released him, at least partially.
"You are always reserved, unless you are drunk. We should get on that," she jested, making to lead Draco along with her, arm around his narrow waist still. Ginny was making her way down the stairs and Draco turned to look over his shoulder upon her entrance.
"May I offer you an arm?" Lupin said and Ginny smiled.
"Thank you," she said, linking arms with him and heading into the parlor where Draco's good Muggle friend Derrick was already waiting along with Marcus Belby, Draco's Support Wizard from the Beast Department who had been secretly helping them both for months so selflessly at great personal and professional risk. He had been the one who had supplied Draco with the extra Wolfsbane for Ginny under the table, and done all in his power to help them during the difficult times where they had feared loosing the baby. Draco owed the man so much due to his silence in the matter that Draco had to invite him. He was someone who could truly appreciate what an event this was, a werewolf getting a job. There too were several Weasleys which included Ron and their mum and dad. Bill was there to offer his support, and Michael and Clarissa were at the piano, making some noise and trying to stay out of the way of the "adults", more specifically their nana who was a bit tipsy and therefore a bit overbearing…more than usual.
"Lets have a cheers for Draco, for announcing his fertility today," Nymphadora declared, holding up her glass which was followed suit by the rest of the room, Draco laughing and blushing at his cousin's antics, gathered up by her one arm to be held at her side awkwardly. "One for his new job," she said, everyone raising their glass again. "and one more for his new wand, something I know he will find great revel in flicking about," she laughed, everyone toasting one last time before taking a sip from their glasses of varying sizes and contents.
Ginny looked over at Draco and he smiled bashfully and graciously accepted everyone's praise and congratulations. She was not sure how she felt about that last toast. He had confided in her once they were all home that he had been pressured into replacing his wand, and actually had. Though he was not banned from owning a wand now that he was fully cleared of all charges and no longer on probation, he was not fully qualified and therefore could not legally practice magic. It was unlikely that he would be able to find someone willing to qualify him, so he had spent his gold on a wand that was basically useless to him, and it would simply be there to taunt him.
Still, it was a beautiful wand.
"Here, for you. I didn't have time to get you anything for the occasion, and with your birthday just past it isn't like you need anything…but lucky for me you are easy to shop for," Bill said, offering Draco a shallow box which revealed to be filled with candy upon Draco's opening it.
"Sponge candy, my favorite," he said, thanking his quasi-brother. "I swear, you are all just trying to fatten me up. Your mother to bake a wolf-pie out of me," he accused, no one refuting the first, and laughing at the second. He had gotten many small gifts for his birthday from each of the members of the family, and everyone had gotten him at least one box of sponge candy. He had enough to last him into the next year.
"Let's have a look at that wand, come on," Ron encouraged, others joining in. Ginny edged over to Derrick and spoke to him casually while the men fawned over Draco's new wand.
"So, I know the story of how you and Draco met, but when was it that you were introduced to the magical world, seeing as you are a Muggle?" she enquired, Derrick just laughing and taking a sip of his drink.
"Oh, it isn't by how you might think," he said. "My son, who is just a year younger than our Angel, married himself a witch, only he didn't know she was a witch at the time. He found out when he made a mess in the kitchen one evening and went to sweep it up with her favorite boom from the cupboard. Well, after flaying halfway across the neighborhood on a Clean Sweep, hanging on for dear life, she `fessed up, feeling the truth was easier than the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad showing up and having to modify his memories. He told me, the ordeal too flabbergasting to not tell one's closest family, but we otherwise all keeping it a secret for years under Ministry Decree. When Angel showed up three years ago I was accustomed to the idea, so though he said nothing, I was able to guess. He mentioned the prison Azkaban by name casually, thinking I wouldn't know it, but I was able to ask him how it was like there without the Dementors stationed as guards anymore and he just blinked at me like I had just struck him. You know that befuddled stare he has, it was a priceless moment. Angel had been on my mind for years, and I had deduced from my acquired knowledge -even though he had not really done anything peculiar- that he had had to have been a wizard, thus his unease and awkwardness in my Muggle automobile. I never knew what had become of that boy I had left on the curb in London, but eventually discovered that he had become a man, and a father," he said, raising his glass as though in cheers, inclining his head towards Ginny.
"That's really amazing that he was able to connect with you, when he struggled then, and still now, to do much the same," she said, astonished that with only an hour's time shared between them and few words, Draco and Derrick had kept each other close in mind and heart. It gave her much needed hope, hope that Draco was not as closed off as he seemed much of the time, and could grow to be trusting again.
"He says I saved his life, and that a bond is created between two individuals as a result of that. I do not doubt it, he is a special boy, but there is something there that connects us in a way I cannot articulate."
"I now of that bond, Draco and I each share it respectively," she said.
"Maybe that's what made the two of you meant to be. We both are well aware that Draco is a terribly untrusting and closed-off person." "Ginny nodded. "You saved each other's lives?"
"A few times each," she mumbled, suddenly modest, feeling he had out-saved her given what he had sacrificed.
"Then I have no doubts that you two can weather anything together. Come hell or high-water, you two will always have that bond, and that love you share of course," he said, Ginny's cheeks warming with a humble and yet gleeful blush as she took reassurance from Derrick's words. She and Draco were connected, forever, whether they liked it or not, whether they were in a relationship or not, and that type of connection was so powerful that it lead Draco back to Derrick after more than a decade apart. Ginny drew more hope than ever from the Muggle man Draco had so seemingly oddly allowed into his trusts, now understanding, now heartened deeply.
Draco was with his quasi-brothers, laughing, when there was a knock at the front door. He didn't think twice about excusing himself to answer it, still in good spirits. He was a little drunk, not too much, and he was having a wonderful night, a few bumps along his day had done nothing to overshadow the good, and nothing would get him down, not even whomever was at the door. It was possible another Weasley was showing up to join in on the festivities, so he opened the door wide and readily, only leaving him to be a little startled and surprised by the stranger who stood before him.
"Hello," he Scotsman said, Draco just blinking.
The man was tall, maybe as much as Ron, but thin. The first thing Draco noticed about him were the piercings. The man had a lot of them. Though it was obvious he was an adult, not a teenager or hoodlum, he had more metal on his face than a kid with braces. His right nostril on his long slightly hooked nose was pierced twice, his bottom lip was pierced three times and evenly space with one in the middle and one off to each side. Three were in his left eyebrow, and too many to count hanging from his ears. Looking beyond that, however, Draco saw the man was fair skinned, with heavily hooded green eyes, freckles, and wild red hair. The red hair was what really caught him off guard because what he had mistaken as a Weasley through the rippling glass of the door turned out to be a mass of wildly curling orange ringlets.
"Hello," Draco said more slowly, sobering up quite readily, looking at the man who was dressed otherwise very neatly for someone as pierced as he was. A dress-shirt, tie, slacks, and shoes.
"I'm sorry to be calling unannounced, and I know you do not know me, but I am Connor, I will be working with you at the library," he explained, making it clear now how he knew Draco. Draco was trying not to pry, mostly because he was, after all, a little drunk, and didn't trust himself not to have the guy believe he was a chicken by accident, so he was left to have to rely on the man's explanation.
"Oh, yes, Wood mentioned a Connor to me. Nice to meet you," Draco said, extending his hand to the man, but it not being received. Draco found this odd.
"I came by to see you tonight, because though I have wanted to meet you for a long time now, I never had reason to try and…well, I didn't want to try and make contact if I didn't have to…well, not that it would be a terrible thing, I just figured you wouldn't want me…" he said, unable to commit to a singular thought or sentence.
"Forgive me, but what is this about? I was told I would be introduced to you in the morning, now you show up outside my house, stammering about some desire to have met me before now?" Draco asked, understandably skeptical and a little uneasy about this. He was hardly a celebrity, and those who emulated him tended to be greatly misguided souls indeed, but looking at Conner, with all his piercings, maybe that was exactly what Connor was.
"Well," Connor said, pushing his hair back out of his eyes for a moment before looking up at Draco. "I just figured you were happy with your family so I wouldn't disturb that, but now with you and I being co-workers…" he said, looking as awkward as he sounded.
"What about you contacting me would affect my family in a negative way?" Draco asked, a little defensive now. He got that way about his family: his pups and now Ginny as well.
"The fact that I'm your son would probably cause some disorder in your already tumultuous life," he said, Draco's eyes widening, looking at the man before him and seeing his wife, seeing her eyes, her hair…her son.
Conner licked his pierced lips and nodded, apparently getting the reaction he was expecting.
"Yeah, I figured this would be better addressed before you showed up for work tomorrow morning," he said, wishing Draco would quit staring at him but understanding why he would.
"You…you are Christina's son…" he deduced, never having known about any such son before now.
"May I come in?" Connor requested pleadingly, knowing this would take some kind of explanation that really deserved a sit-down rather than be conducted on a stoop, half inside and half out in the open early evening.
Draco, without a word, stepped backwards and allowed Connor past him. He closed the door with his back up against it and just continued to stare.
"I understand, by your reaction, that you were never told about me. I had guessed as much, but this concretes it," he said rather downtrodden.
"I did not realize she had a son," Draco said, looking at the man before him up and down, mind reeling, and a little fuzzy.
"She did not raise me, her parents, my grandparents did. I hardly knew her, never really met her, only knew her by picture, and name," he explained, as though that would make Draco feel better. It didn't.
"Why…why didn't she raise you?" Draco asked, Connor looking around and seeing nothing but the stairs as a place to rest and talk.
"Come here," he said, moving backwards to sit, offering for Draco to join him, which he did, with a flop, still staring, unable to stop. He had a drink in one hand, and it was nearly forgotten as he gazed into the eyes of someone he believed dead, eyes that now belonged to someone else.
"Christina, my mother, did not raise me, like I said. From what I understand from my mumbee and pop-pop is she was young, and couldn't manage," he explained and Draco finally blinked.
"How young was she?" he asked, his stomach clamping due to how much older than him she had been.
"I was born when she was sixteen, right before her last year of Hogwarts. She had taken her sixth year off to be tutored at home to deal with my pregnancy," he explained and Draco's eyes widened and he turned to take a big gulp of his drink.
"That makes you…"
"Five month older than you," Conner finished for him and Draco just nodded before taking another gulp of his drink. He might have been a bit fuzzy, but he could still tell if he was being lied to, and he wasn't, and that was all that made him so readily accepting of this, not fighting it or denying it all. It was why he needed a drink so badly.
"And you are my…"
"Step-son apparently," Conner again finished for him, Draco nodding and finishing his drink in one last impressive gulp. "Yeah, I understand this is a lot to…uh…take in at once, thus why I came to you tonight, rather than wait for it to just come forward tomorrow. I wanted to meet you from the moment I learned from pop-pop that my mother had married, but when I learned it was someone my age, and that you two had already a family together, I didn't want to intrude. I was the son she did not want," he said, looking down and Draco turned, wishing he could be of some comfort but unsure how, still not able to wrap his mind around this yet, this man…his step-son….still a stranger to him. "I couldn't help but feel she didn't want me while growing up, and when I heard of her having a family with someone else, children with someone else, it just kind'a cemented that idea for me."
"It wasn't like that," Draco said, not so much as making an attempt to touch the man beside him, his words the only comfort he could offer and it not the best.
"I have a brother, and a sister?" he asked and Draco had to work his mind through that question before answering it.
"Uh, yes, and half-brother, and half-sister I suppose," he said, blinking a few times. "Who is your father?" he asked.
"I don't know. I don't even think my mother knew. Some student she went to Hogwarts with obviously, but I have no name on my birth certificate, no surname but my mother's," he said and Draco swallowed hard.
"Wait, if you are my age, wouldn't we have been in the same class?" Draco asked, thinking of Hogwarts now that it had been mentioned.
"I was actually taught at home, by my mumbee and pop-pop. It's an option all parents have, of course, and they didn't like the idea of sending me off to Hogwarts after the debacle their daughter had caused herself," he said, almost able to smile at that.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Draco breathed, back to looking away from Conner, and wishing he had more to drink.
Conner just pressed his lips together in a way that showed his own discomfort, but turned when he heard someone call down the hall.
"Draco, what's the hold up?" Ron asked, Draco not responding and Connor jumping when Michelangelo popped into view from around the railing of the stairs.
"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, looking to his father and face falling when he saw how distraught he looked, and growing suspicious when he could not recognize the man on the stairs with him. Connor's eyes were a little wide as he looked at Michelangelo, and he was utterly silent, like Draco, only causing Michelangelo to grow more mistrustful.
"Who are you?" he asked. Draco answered.
"This is Connor," he said, not having looked over at his son yet. Connor felt a little on the spot at the moment, but couldn't take his eyes off of Michelangelo.
"What is he doing here?" Michelangelo asked.
"I work with him," Draco said, finally slowly looking over at his boy.
"So why are you two sitting over here and looking like you have seen a ghost? Is everything alright?"
"Yes, fine," Draco said, regaining himself. "Connor was just filling me in on some important details, crucial for work tomorrow and so forth."
"Well, come on back, everyone is wondering what had become of you," Michelangelo said, being light again but his eyes revealing more than his tone just how little he bought into Draco's explanation. He disappeared to clearly head back down the hall to the parlor, and Connor looked over to Draco.
"I should go," he said.
"Would you like to stay for a drink?" Draco offered.
"I couldn't impose," he said, already standing.
"Nonsense, this is a family and friend event," Draco said, stomach just a little unsettled when realizing this stranger was family.
"I am hardly either," Connor said with his thick Scottish accent, flattening his tie in a nervous way.
"Well, I am celebrating a few things today; why not add on to that the realization that I have a stepson?" Draco said, moving so he was between Connor and the door, leaving him no where to go but either upstairs, or around the banister to head down the hall and towards the party.
"This is a little awkward," Connor argued.
"You're telling me. I have a stepson as old as I am. Surely you need a drink as badly as I do," Draco said, passing him at that point, confident that he would follow rather than leave. Connor looked around for a moment, seeing the gagged portrait of a woman hanging above them, and the troll-leg umbrella stand, and the silver light-fixtures, and the long green runner that guarded the beautiful hardwood floors, and finally back to Draco. He swallowed hard and nodded. He certainly could use a drink.
Author's Note/Summery:
Short Chapter.
Draco is just SO good with his children. *coughs* He is as unyielding as a house of cards. Poor Ginny is stuck as the enforcer, and as any parenting duo will tell you, that position sucks, especially when you yourself are not even the child's biological parent. Michael likes the ladies, I'm concerned.
Here is something new: Clarissa acting her age? SHOCKER. I guess it is easily forgotten her scene in the end of last fic where she was talking to Ginny and she -for once- didn't chime and flirt, but talked to her face to face, almost like an adult. Clarissa plays it up for her father, remember that.
Michelangelo and Clarissa's conversation was REALLY important. It is a favorite scene of mine and one I had anticipating posting. Clarissa really serves it to Michael and he really does need to hear it, in particular from her. What she says is true, and wise. Hopefully this will mark a turn-around for him, but I'm not making any promises.
Michael's hurt, his sense of loss, his anger as a result, it is painful to me (almost a mother to him really) to see that. He wants so bad to know his mother, but he can't, because she's dead, and that is tearing him apart inside. WE FOUND OUT WHY HE DOESN'T ACCEPT GINNY! Was it the reason you were suspecting? It broke my heart to see him cry.
Kjhsjkfhgd Draco and Ginny flirty-stuff. God I have missed that. A good snogging session is healthy, it can cure cancer, and A.D.D., I swear. Poor Draco getting a drink to the face. Been waiting to post this scene too. People suck; I think that is the message of all my writing. Ginny is there for him though, and he is clearly grateful
Wow Michael is a firecracker, but that man deserved more than a knee to the balls, so I'm proud of the boy's restraint. I told you I couldn't make any promises. Draco isn't mad, no, and I like his explanation as to why. Jo REALLY cheated us when she gave us no indication in the books as to what Draco was going through in his sixth year while his father was in Azkaban. She barely even makes brief mention of it when on the train Draco asks why Slughorn hadn't wanted to meet him. She also jipped us out of any sort of interaction between Tonks and him. That infuriates me most of all. Tonks mentions/acknowledges Draco, what, once, after Draco busts up Harry's face? BULLSHIT! I maintain that Draco and Tonks would have been loving cousins if given the opportunity. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Draco has a wand. Yay! You were all demanding it, now you got it. Look what reviewing does. *coughs*
I <3 Derrick.
Oh-SNAP you say? Who is this Connor you ask? He is exactly who he says he is. He is a favorite new character of mine. Fun times ahead. YAR!
Review now or not smutty fun for you in the next chapter!
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