Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and associates, none of the characters or storylines you recognize are mine!

Hey all, since I don´t have the time to update my stories at the moment, here´s a treat for all those who´re patiently (or not ;D) waiting!

I had written this a while ago and intended to post it after completing Wicked, but since that won´t happen too soon (not only because I don´t have much time, but also because the story is going to be much longer than initially expected), I decided to upload it now. It is complete and consists of four chapters, all of which will be posted before Christmas.

Season´s Greetings and Happy Holidays to all of you!

Story notes, please read these:

This story is AU and not DH-epilogue compliant. It contains some violence, abuse, non-con (not very graphic) and the mention of slash and mpreg. Don´t like, don´t read!

It´s pre-slash, so be warned that there´s no actual H/D action in here.

-o-

Along Came the Saviour

-o-O-o-

o

Part 1

o

The day had started off cold and dull. Harry headed for the lift and found he was alone in it; he could not blame his colleagues, as it was well before eight and barely light out.

Ever since his breakup with Ginny did Harry usually get up early, as he simply could not sleep in anymore. Even on his work free days did he wake up long before the rest of the country, or so it seemed.

It was just as well, he mused bitterly, that way he had time to catch up on the paperwork.

The lack of sleep wore on him, yet he could not change it. Hermione had tried to help, had suggested everything from using certain herbs to try hypnosis, but Harry had not heeded her advice; he was too indulged in his work to take his problem seriously, and work was the only thing that was sufficient to distract him from the pain of the breakup.

It simply had not worked between them; both of them had changed after the war, and also because of the war, and although they were still able to talk about everything, the passion which had fuelled their relationship in the beginning was gone, undeniably so. It had taken both of them a long time to accept that, but in the end they had had to admit that their love had just been a memory. It had been hard and still was.

Tiredly, he leaned against the wall of the cabin as it rattled along; it had taken years for him to shake off the rather unpleasant memories he associated with the Ministry of Magic, and he still did not particularly like being inside the building.

Harry was surprised to see that the Notification Globe on his desk lit up the minute he stepped into his small office. He drew his wand and tipped against the glass ever so slightly.

A voice sounded through the room as soon as he had done so: "Good morning, Potter," the familiar baritone of his supervisor, Julius Fleetwood, greeted him. "There´s been an incident concerning one of the former Death Eaters. I´ve assigned you and Floyd MacKenzie to the case, you´ll find the details in your inbox. Please attend to the matter immediately and report to me afterwards. Good day."

Harry turned towards his inbox: one of the Ministry´s owls was indeed sitting on the designated perch, her head in her feathers. When Harry gently prodded her, she turned her magnificient head and looked at him as though asking him how he dared to bother her, her amber eyes reproachful.

With a pang, Harry felt himself reminded of Hedwig; she had sometimes used that exact same look on him.

Mutely, he traded the piece of parchment which had been attached to the bird´s leg for a few owl treats.

He scanned the parchment and sat down on his chair for a moment, inwardly groaning: it had to be him, hadn´t it? Of all the junior Aurors in the apartment, it had to be Harry to be assigned to this particular job. He did not count MacKenzie in, as the guy was a pathetic sod who loved to abuse his authority, but kept staring at the note, this time reading it more thoroughly:

St Mungo´s Hospital reported the committal of Scorpius Malfoy, 2, son of former Death Eater Draco Malfoy, 27, in the early morning hours between 2 and 3 a.m. The father claims that the child´s injuries are the result of a domestic accident, which has yet to be verified. The incident coincides with a registered powerful surge of magic in the flat the Malfoys are currently residing in; please make sure to interrogate Mr Malfoy regarding the events."

Harry folded the note and put it in the pocket of his robes; striding over to the floo, he wondered why Malfoy was ´currently residing´ in a flat rather than the Manor he had grown up in, and why the hell he, Harry, had been assigned to this job again.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes before he reached for the floo powder; it was nothing more than a routine job, he told himself. Every former Death Eater on the loose was being checked whenever something happened that included any kind of strong magic and/or of authority involvement, and that was it; no reason to get worked up about it.

There had been ongoing debates wether those who did not land in Azkaban should be forbidden to use magic at all, but in the end it was decided that they were simply going to be restricted to the use of necessary every day magic only; every magical surge which strength exceeded the magnitude needed for basic daily tasks would be investigated.

-

The Welcome Witch in St Mungo´s reception area directed him to General Accidents on the First Floor; there was a waiting area in which only two people sat.

Harry passed it and walked further down the corridor and around a corner until he reached another waiting area. He could hear MacKenzie´s voice before he saw him; his colleague was talking to a tall blond man who had turned his back on the Auror and was standing in front of the window.

"... aware that there will be severe consequences if you don´t cooperate properly, aren´t you, Mr Malfoy?" MacKenzie was snarling. An auto-quill was hovering over a notepad in the air next to him, waiting to record Malfoy´s answers.

"Floyd," Harry greeted quietly.

"Potter, about time," MacKenzie snorted. "The suspect refused to answer most of my questions."

Harry forced himself to stay calm: "By definition he is not a suspect, MacKenzie," he said coldly. "Why don´t you go and get yourself a coffee while I try my luck?"

MacKenzie scowled but turned to go.

Great, just great, Harry thought while he watched the other Auror stalk away with an air of reluctance; here I am, dealing with two idiots at once.

He glanced at the notepad MacKenzie had left behind: so far, the outcome had been meagre indeed. Malfoy had given his name and address and his version of what had happened.

After reading it, Harry took a deep breath and readied himself to face Draco Malfoy, personified arrogance and former Voldemort-disciple.

They had not seen each other since the end of the war, thus Harry was surprised when Malfoy finally turned around: he looked very different from how Harry remembered him. He still had the same fair hair and thin, handsome face, but he looked care-worn, and there wasn´t the slightest trace of the familiar sneer which had been his trademark in school.

Apart from that, he was hugging himself, something Harry had not noticed before.

"Malfoy," he said, still taking in the other´s appearance; they stared at each other for a long moment, trying to fathom whether the ice would carry them, so to speak.

"Potter," Draco finally said, his voice slightly hoarse. He surprised Harry again when he left his spot by the window.

He walked slowly, with carefully measured movements; his features were tense, yet he tried not to let on how much this was taking out of him. He didn´t know that his skin looked greyish with fatigue and pain, and he couldn´t subdue the slight tremor in his hand when he lifted it to shake Potter´s.

As much as he hated that thought, he needed Potter on his side. For Scorpius. Draco had not seen his former rival for years and was surprised by the change: the dark-haired wizard had grown up. He was still smaller than Draco, but his features had lost their roundness. He looked a little pale and exhausted, yet he still had the same air of determination about him.

Harry shook his hand, registering the tremor and that it looked like Malfoy was wearing pyjamas underneath his robe, and wondered what had really happened. According to MacKenzie´s notes Draco had stated that Scorpius had fallen after having managed to get out of bed somehow, thus the magic; it wasn´t unusual around small wizard children that their magic went off uncontrolledly while they were dreaming, causing all kinds of strange things to happen; it was supposed to abate when they started to talk properly.

Harry was reminded of the time he had found himself on the primary school´s roof when Dudley and his gang had been chasing him; he supposed that it had happened similarly, though he had not been asleep, and had certainly been no toddler anymore.

The story sounded plausible, yet Harry, and undoubtedly MacKenzie as well, could tell that it was not the whole truth. Not with the way Draco looked right then. He was certain Malfoy would evade his questions as well, as he obviously wanted to hide something, therefore Harry decided for another approach.

"How´s your little boy?" he asked, and there was genuine concern in his tone.

Draco gave a bitter laugh: "I´d like to know that myself," he said. "Your colleague refused to let me go and see him until he was ´done with the questioning´. I´ve told him all there is to tell, Potter, and I´d very much like to be with Scorpius now. He´ll be scared if he wakes up alone."

His voice was strained. Harry, wondering where the child´s mother was, nodded: "Okay. I´ll come with you."

Draco rolled his eyes, but, reminding himself that he needed to be civil to Potter, didn´t object. They walked to Scorpius´ room in silence, Harry matching his stride to Malfoy´s; the blond wizard decidedly walked a little slow and with an effort he was trying to conceal.

-

The child was lying alone in a small room next to the nurse´s station. A monitor was magically recording its vitals, much like the ones Harry had seen on Muggle TV shows, but this one was silent. The small boy was fast asleep, a stuffed dog in his arm; he looked a lot like his father, Harry thought.

Malfoy seemed to sag as he saw his son in the large hospital bed; wordlessly, he sat down on the edge of the mattress and took Scorpius´ hand in his.

"I´ll be right back." Harry said in an undertone and went to find someone who could tell him how Scorpius was faring. He did not need to go far, as there was one nurse on duty who had just come back to the station.

Harry showed her his ID and, after the usual ado about him being the Harry Potter, asked to be filled in on the details about Scorpius Malfoy´s injuries.

"Ah, the sweet little thing," she said, "he´ll be right as rain in no time. He had a concussion, so he´ll stay here for observation until tomorrow. Had some scratches and a sprained wrist as well, but that´s healed already."

"Was he awake when he and his father arrived?"

"Yes, he was, and crying terribly at that; the little darling looked positively terrified!"

"Mr Malfoy claimed that his son fell after he had somehow gotten out of his bed."

"Well, it happens, little things work themselves up in their dreams and suddenly their magic errupts. It can have all sorts of consequences, the boy was lucky nothing more serious happened."

"Hm... and I imagine Mr Malfoy has been terribly worried about his son when they got here."

"Yes, he actually looked like he´d seen a ghost. He was so shaken he had trouble filling in the forms."

"I see. Would you be so kind and show me the patient´s file so I can check if it matches with my informations?"

"Certainly, I´ll get it for you." She went over to the filing cabinet which held the files of all patients currently under her care, and drew out the one he´d requested.

Harry scanned the contents, trying not to look so eagerly, quickly finding what he was looking for.

Scorpius Malfoy, born June 5, 2004. Father: Draco Malfoy, born June 5, 1980. Mother unknown.

Harry stared at the words; apart from the fact that their birthdays were on the same date, there was the question of the mother. He had never heard of the case that the mother was unknown rather than the father.

He frowned at the file before closing it: "Thank you, Nurse... Jenkins, you´ve been of great help."

"Oh, it was my pleasure, Mr Potter," she replied and blushed furiously.

Still frowning, Harry left the nurse´s station.

When he arrived back at Scorpius´ room, he saw that the little boy was awake, his eyes locked onto his father, who had lowered himself down on his elbows so he was closer to his son, and was telling him a story which apparently included a lot of unexpected belly-tickling. Every time Draco did so, the child giggled and squealed with delight.

Harry did not want to intrude on this, so he quietly backed away, only to run into MacKenzie.

"I hope you´ve been more successful than I," the other Auror said gruffly.

Harry inwardly counted till ten before answering: "That depends on how you define ´successful´, MacKenzie. I have talked to the Nurse on duty, and she has confirmed Mr Malfoy´s words. End of story."

Harry´s face did not give away the fact that he actually thought otherwise, but whatever it was Malfoy was trying to hide, it did not seem to be anything unlawful. At least not on his part, a small voice in Harry´s mind whispered. He couldn´t tell why he thought so, it was merely a gut feeling.

MacKenzie gave a theatrical sigh: "Very well then, let´s hope you´re right. I wouldn´t put it past him to use his kid as an excuse for whatever he´s been up to."

"I am right, MacKenzie. I´ve known Malfoy for a long time now, he´s harmless." Harry deliberately made it sound as though they had been acquainted rather than rivals. He knew what MacKenzie would probably make of this, famous Harry Potter an acquaintance of a former Death Eater, but he did not care.

His gut told him there was more to this story than Malfoy wanted to let on, and Harry was curious as to what it was. He was very aware what Hermione would say to this, could actually hear her voice in his head: ´You´ve always been obsessed with him, Harry´, but did not care about that either. The last time he had seen Malfoy had been on the day of his trial, a few months after the war. Maybe he needed some kind of closure.

"I´ll go and get a proper statement from him," he heard himself say now. "Once he´s signed it, the case is closed as far as I am concerned."

MacKenzie sneered, ironically looking much like Malfoy in the older days: "I´ll floo back to my office and write a report. I´ll leave it for signing on your desk."

Harry nodded: "I´ll be in soon."

-

He silently walked back to Scorpius´ room; Malfoy sat up when he heard him, his back visibly stiffening. His son peered at Harry from behind his stuffed dog, large grey eyes of the same slate colour his father´s were.

"Hi there, Scorpius," Harry said, a little awkwardly, and entered the room.

Draco turned to him, his face full of apprehension. He relaxed marginally when Potter smiled at Scorpius, a real smile, not just a grimace for pretence. Scorpius clearly was fascinated by the stranger who apparently knew his name. He tugged at his father´s sleeve: "Is that?" he asked.

"That´s Harry," the blond wizard answered, after a moment of hesitation, "he went to school with me."

Scorpius looked from him to Harry with wide eyes, apparently picking up his father´s tautness, but sensing that ´Harry´did not prove any danger to them.

"So what´s the verdict?" Malfoy asked quietly, and Harry was puzzled by how his voice was still absent of any of the disdain he was so used to hearing.

"No verdict," Harry said. "I believe you. I just need to record a proper statement, which you need to sign. That´s all. No house search, no further consequences."

If Draco had not been so aware that this was Harry Potter, in front of whom he did not wish to appear any weaker than he probably had already done, he would have gaped at him.

As it were, however, he simply exhaled as though he had held his breath for a long time, and turned his head away, closing his eyes for a moment, before facing Potter once more: "Thank you," he said.

In the past, he would have been furious that it had been Saint Potter to have to help him, but right then, he did not care. He knew that Auror MacKenzie would not have let him off the hook so easily, and that he could count himself lucky.

His greatest fear was that the authorities would take Scorpius away from him, and if Potter could help him to avoid that, he would happily be willing to bury any old grudges he might be harbouring.

He gave his statement once more, while Scorpius, alternately watching him and the Auror with wide eyes, played with his stuffed dog.

Harry read out to him what he had written, then gave him his quill for signing.

Draco did so and handed him the parchment back. Harry rolled it up slowly: "Care to tell me what really happened?"

For the fraction of a second, Draco´s eyes widened. He quickly gathered himself however: "Excuse me? Didn´t I just set my name under what happened?"

Harry shrugged: "In my opinion, you set your name under what we agreed had happened."

"I thought you believed me?"

"I do. I believe you when you say that the incident did have nothing to do with the Dark Arts or any activity related to your status as a former Death Eater. I did however notice that something´s odd. Firstly, you´re not stupid, Malfoy, you were far too nervous about a minor breach of the regulations. Secondly, you look rather worse for wear."

What little colour had been left seemed to drain from Malfoy´s already pale face. "I don´t know what you´re talking about," he said tersely, subconsciously edging closer to his child as though feeling safer by the little boy´s presence.

Scorpius was watching his father anxiously now, reaching out and touching his cheek: "Daddy not be afwaid," he said, his lip trembling. "Jarra ´way."

Malfoy´s head whipped around: "Yes, baby," he murmured, "I know. We´re all right."

"All wight," Scorpius repeated affirmatively.

Draco, obviously scrambling to regain his composure, gave a shaky laugh and pressed a kiss on the boy´s forehead: "Thank you, angel," he whispered.

Harry witnessed this display with mixed emotions: he now was sure that something was wrong, and apart from that his image of Draco had been turned upside down completely. This wasn´t the cold-hearted bastard he had known in school, this was a man who cared deeply for his son, and who put said son´s welfare in front of his own. Unlike his father, Harry mused, but then pushed the thought of Lucius away; two Malfoys to contend with at a time were enough.

When Draco turned back to Harry now, there was a look of defiance in his eyes: "I´ll deal with it," he said. "It´s private."

"So I thought," Harry said gently. "Who is Jarra?"

At exactly this moment, Nurse Jenkins entered with a tray: "Hello little man," she greeted Scorpius. "I´ve got breakfast for you!"

While she set up the dishes, she informed Draco that Scorpius very likely was all right, but that he was supposed to stay another day for observation.

Harry thought Draco looked relieved.

He did not want to press the matter further for now, and besides, he had to get back to his office.

"I have to go," he thus said after the nurse had left,"are you going to be all right for now?"

"Yes," Draco´s voice was very quiet, and his eyes met Harry´s only briefly. "Thanks, Potter."

Harry waved at the little boy and turned to go.

"Hawwy," he heard Scorpius say experimentally.

Malfoy did not reply.

-

Harry could not get Draco and his son out of his head the whole day. For one, Malfoy had been so very different in his whole demeanour, and apart from that, Harry suspected that he was in some kind of trouble.

He called at Ron and Hermione´s after work; they had just had their second baby, and Ron was taking a few days off to help.

Hermione was just putting little Rosie to bed while the baby, Hugo, was lying in Ron´s arms, still wide awake. He was gazing at Ron with his large blue eyes which were still unfocused, making quiet snuffling sounds.

They sat down in the living room, where Hermione joined them after a while.

Harry told them about Malfoy: "I really don´t know what to make of it," he concluded.

"Did you have a look into his file?" Hermione asked.

"Not yet. The former Death Eater´s files are confidential; I didn´t want to unnecessarily draw attention to Malfoy´s case by signing in for it."

Ron looked from his wife to his best friend: "Excuse me? Since when did Malfoy belong to the people we need to protect?"

"Ron," Hermione began, but Harry waved it off: "I know, I know- and you know I´d agree with you, but... he was so different. Something tells me it wasn´t just for show."

"It´s Malfoy we´re talking about," Ron said. "Just in case you´ve forgotten everything he ever did."

"I haven´t forgotten that," Harry said patiently. "But don´t you think people can change?"

"People, yes. Malfoys, no."

Harry exchanged an amused look with Hermione.

"He´s a father now," Harry then pointed out. "He seems very devoted to his little boy, and that´s more than I´d have expected, to start with."

Ron caressed his own son´s tiny face: "I bet he´s not as devoted as I am," he said, cooing at the baby in a silly voice.

Harry snorted, though grinning all the while: "Right. I´ll talk to you once you´re acting normal again."

Harry knew that Julius Fleetwood most certainly had had access to Malfoy´s file, and since Harry had not submitted MacKenzie´s and his report yet, it would still be in his superior´s office.

-

Later that night, Harry took his Invisibility Cloak and Flooed back to the Ministry. He went straight for Fleetwood´s office and opened the door with a whispered spell. He didn´t have any qualms about it; even though he had worked for the Ministry for some years now did he still feel as though they were owing him. He knew it was childish to cling to old resentments, yet they were running deep.

Ten minutes later, he was in his own office, reading Malfoy´s file by wandlight. There wasn´t much new information; after the war, Draco had moved out of the Manor; his father was in Azkaban, his mother still living in the huge old house. Draco apparently had taken to translating for a living, working for a French publishing company. It meant that he could work at home and look after his child.

Harry sought for information about Scorpius; as he had been born years after the trial, and since Malfoy had not breached the regulations once before, there was nothing about him however.

Slightly disappointed, Harry looked at Malfoy´s adress and found that it had been changed twice since Scorpius´ birth; before he had moved to London, he had lived in Somerset, where he had moved to after leaving his flat in Wiltshire.

Harry tipped his index finger against his nose contemplatively. Maybe it was time to visit Narcissa Malfoy. But first, he´d try and talk to Draco once more.

--

To Be Continued

--