Walk By Shredded Faith

By: Bungie

Summary: "If I didn't know you were a man, I'd say you were pregnant." They had laughed about it then, but the longer it went on the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it the more he worried.

Something happen the night deatheaters invaded Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy stumbled upon those repercussions and life was never the same.

Rating: M with MA moments further down the line. If I choose to put explicit scenes in here I will either forewarn you or censor them and have them posted on AO3.

Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognizable from Harry Potter Canon. In original characters, ooc moments, or other such nonsense I take full credit for. Not that I get paid for either way.

Pairing: Lucius/ Harry Potter

Beta: To my lovely Beta, Fae0306, I am immensely grateful for the time you've put in and helped with on this. Seriously, I'd give you a coupon for free chipotle if I could.

Warnings: This is slash! So…don't like don't read. You have been forewarned so don't flame me or I'll have to get mean. You won't like me when I'm mean.

Chapter One: Stumble

The night air was muggy and the strong scent that could only be found down Britain's notoriously dark alley, a bittersweet smell of burning oils and rotting fruit, clung to the outside of his dark cloak. He breathed deeply as he left the narrow cobblestoned paths of Knockturn Alley and entered the main part of Diagon Alley, the road sparse considering how late it was.

His footsteps were sure, a reflection of his superior breeding, and those who littered the street moved unconsciously out of his way despite the heavy hood that shadowed his face and identity. He smirked and turned off onto Diurne Alley, a relatively new street that was more for everyday things such as haircuts and where restaurants were located.

The street lamps sputtered a bit and he slowed his walk as his gaze caught the store front of a shop for babies.

He nearly sneered.

The sight of a transfigured doll clapping at movements of a dragon mobile, its roaring figurines breathing out fairy lights instead of flames, made his stomach churn. He was surprisingly grateful the hood hid his grimace from any passersby.

It wasn't the children themselves that irritated him, though honestly; he really didn't know what to do with them either. His own son, regretfully (and sometimes not-so-regretfully), was mostly raised by the house elves. He turned out alright, though a bit weak willed. He didn't really have a hand in raising him until the boy was perhaps five summers old. The biggest thing about that he wished he could change was the fact he raised his son in the same way his own father raised him.

Considering how much he quietly hated his father, that said more that he wished it did. He scratched his eyebrow at that thought. An old habit he created to remind himself to be stoic, to ease his frowning brows, to never let them see.

He allowed a growl to reverberate in his mind.

No. The problem was the whining harpy he called a wife. Narcissa had been a beauty when he had first married her, and he could admit that she still was. The Black family, at that point in time, had been high in society and one of the wealthiest families in Great Britain. The Malfoy family, though capable of tracing their lineage back at least thirty or so generations, were still considered a relatively new family on the isle considering they were originally from France. Much of the Malfoy family was still there, actually. The main branch had moved to the isle when his own Grandfather decided to relocate in order to avoid the problems of Grindelwald. His father, having grown up with the Blacks during his Hogwarts years, had become good friends with Arcturus Black and used him to tie an alliance between the families. He had been open to developing a good marriage with Narcissa, something he knew his parents didn't have. But that was never to be. Narcissa hadn't slept in the same bed as him since the healers confirmed she was pregnant with Draco.

However, now she suddenly wanted another child, wanted to feel like the mother she never truly was to their son. It was a relatively recent thing, one he had been considering the source of for a while. Perhaps her change of heart came when she ventured back into their home from one of her many tryst over the years, ones he had spoken little of mostly because whatever he could have felt for her had burnt away with the first, and came to his bedroom with a sultry smile, eyes full of desire, only for him to slam the door in her face with a raised eyebrow. Or perhaps it was when Draco, his son in every way at that moment, looked her straight in the eye after her request for his company at a mother/son luncheon (an invitation that was more for her to be seen as a mother than the recognition of being one) and with the same raised brow he received from Lucius said, "I'd rather not. You should ask Edward. Isn't that the name of Maurice Harcourt's son? I'm sure he'd love to go with you." He watched as Draco gave a gentle smile, even if his eyes were sharp as glass, before walking serenely out the dining doors.

That was the closest moment he'd come to losing his fine-tuned control and laughing at the soured face of his wife in a very long time.

He continued to stare into the store in contemplation, absently watching as a cloaked customer filled an obviously extended bag full of acquired things. His wife…He couldn't quite put his finger on it. However, his instincts told him the biggest reason had something to do with the contract.

Merlin, how he hated that contract. Maybe it was time he pulled it out again and looked it over. It had been years after all.

He was just beginning to turn and continue on his way when the customer he had silently been observing came out, hands gripping the front of their cloak tightly, and began walking quickly in the opposite direction. He would have ignored it if his magic hadn't gently brushed against theirs for the briefest moments and recognized.

What was Harry Potter doing down Diurne Alley, shopping in a baby store, in the middle of an October night?

Lucius, with quiet steps, made a U-turn and followed. Casting disillusionment charms and sound softeners on his feet, he watched as the figure continued to walk briskly, turning back onto Diagon Alley and heading towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Never let it be said that a Malfoy couldn't be curious. And this was a most curious situation. He cast his thoughts over the things he heard over the last couple months regarding Potter as he continued his pursuit, feeling slightly out of water as the main subject walked past the dining room of the Leaky Cauldron and out into Muggle London.

It had been a little over a year since what he had mentally dubbed the 'ministry incident'. His ability to grab the prophecy at the last second before it was broken was the only thing that had saved him from his master's ire. Because of this Draco had been saved from being the unwilling participant for what the Dark Lord had planned this recent year. Instead he entrusted that fully to Severus, who killed Dumbledore and allowed death eaters into the school.

Looking back, he can't recall there ever being a word spoken in the meetings about Harry Potter. It was like he hadn't been there at all. Which was suspicious, considering the boy was so close to being the embodiment of Gryffindor, Lucius wouldn't be surprised if the boy died a martyr. If he hadn't been there, wand blazing and mouth screaming, he wondered where he had been…

Not to mention that it had been a quietly hushed secret until mid-way through August that the youngest Potter was missing. In fact, according to reports, the boy hadn't gone home when they left Hogwarts so no one, not even his friends, knew where he was.

Uproar had gone out when, on September 1st, Harry Potter did not appear on the Hogwarts train. Which was less a surprise that he wasn't there considering Severus had taken over, and more a surprise that he wasn't there while one Hermione Granger and one Ronald Weasley were. Lucius knew that both the Order's members and the Death Eaters had been scouring everywhere for that boy.

And here Lucius Malfoy was. Strolling down a street when he stumbles across him.

How fortuitous.

He watched as the boy walked through a muggle station and boarded a train. He followed him, observing little strange things he hadn't noticed before. Like how small the boy's hands were when he gripped his cloak closed, how he sort of shuffled in his walk in a way that gave the impression that he was carrying something heavy in front of him, and how easily he lost his breath when walking for long distances. The last one being rather unusual because though he remembered the boy being unusually small, he was also rather fit.

He watched as Potter left the train after several exits, getting off at what he read from the signs as Bedfordshire. He watched as the boy walked a couple blocks before venturing off down a cobbled stone road. The homes on this street looked older, not wealthy in the traditional sense, just older. As he looked closer he could read hanging signs for a town bar, a pharmacy, and an inn with a red roof.

Potter kept walking until the buildings slowly disappeared and, rounding a bend, he could see a medium sized cottage sitting on an acre of flat ground below a hill.

It was…quaint. It wasn't to his standards, of course, but it was not hideous to look at. He reasoned that it fit the scenery.

The boy walked into the front room and Lucius quickly followed, noting how the fire automatically came to life.

Potter walked further into the room, throwing off his cloak and dropping his bag of purchases on a brown leather chair. His back was to Lucius as he shuffled into the kitchen to make tea. His deep exhale of breath releasing whatever tension he had in his shoulders.

"Well, well, well…what do we have here?" Lucius wouldn't lie to himself. He felt a shiver of excitement when the boy's shoulders tensed back up at the sound of his voice. Potter didn't turn around, however, his hands seemed to be frozen in a hovering motion over the pot of water he was getting ready to fill.

"Imagine my surprise when I came across the familiar taste of your magic coming out of a baby store of all places." He chuckled mockingly here. Surprised he still hadn't gotten a bigger reaction. "Then I followed you all the way here. Tell me, Potter, why are you hiding out in this-," he shuddered in fake revulsion, "would you call this a house?"

He could tell he was pissing the boy off. His fists had curled around the handle of the teapot, the grip white knuckled and tight. He wondered if Potter was considering chucking it at him.

He frowned slightly.

The boy still refused to turn and face him.

He didn't understand why, but it was sending jolts of irritation into his chest. Potter didn't get to ignore him.

He let his wrist flick, his wand flicking into his hand. Once the Dark Lord had returned, his wand had found its home moved from his cane to his wrist, not just for convenience, but for safety.

"Face me, Potter, or I will make you." He watched with unwavering attention as the boy lifted his hand from the pot and slowly turned to him.

The first thing he noticed was the boy's green eyes. Those blazing eyes full of anger and frustration, a hint of fear, and a heavy amount of defiance. They were fierce and intense, and as they gazed at him, Lucius felt something settle in his stomach. As though something he had missed without realizing had returned.

The second thing Lucius noticed was the rounded protrusion. Potter's stomach was noticeably extended as he turned fully around and the draped robe that split with an opening around it only made the obvious more obvious. Potter was pregnant.

Lucius went blank for moment, his wand going slightly slack in his hand. There was confusion, denial, and a sharp taste of something he couldn't name. Wouldn't name. He pushed the last feeling to the back of his mind and focused on the others, his eyes narrowing back on a now amused Potter's face.

"Do you want some tea, Mr. Malfoy?" He didn't wait for a response, simply shuffled that awkward walk towards the sink where he filled the pot with tea only to shuffle back to the stove.

"Are-", he quickly cleared his throat, "Are you really pregnant?"

Potter had turned back to face the stove, his movements slow. Intentionally so. He clearly didn't want to be having this conversation.

"That's what the healers tell me." He swallowed.

"How?"

"I'd rather not discuss the how with you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Who?"

"That's a question I don't believe is your business, Mr. Malfoy." He could have growled at that response. He had to think more on his wording. He paused for a moment to think.

"How long till you give birth?"

"About four and half months." He watched as Potter poured two cups full of water. Moving to grab tea from another cabinet.

"Hmm. Considering that male pregnancies are only eight months to a woman's nine…you've been pregnant since…end of June, perhaps?" Potter tensed again and Lucius felt an almost wicked sense of satisfaction because of it.

"Tell me Potter, when did you get pregnant? Was it on June 24? Was it during the attack? What were you doing? Being held up somewhere with your legs spread getting fucked" The two cups filled with water burst, the water spilling out over the counter top.

He watched with anticipation as Potter turned towards him, but instead of the fierce fire he was looking forward to only dull green stared back. He felt his heart sink a little, though he didn't understand why.

"Get out." The voice was little more than a whisper, yet it echoed like a whip moving through air and Lucius felt himself flinch slightly because of it.

"Get out now." The front door swung open, an obvious invitation, but Lucius didn't move. He continued to stare at Potter, trying to read what just happened. He was missing something, but whatever it was kept slipping through his fingers.

"You know, if I leave now, I could just go and tell the Dark Lord what I found out today, even where you live?" Potter's response was quick.

"By all means, go ahead. I'll be gone before you get back and I guarantee that this time you won't find me." Well, that was as much a promise as he'd ever heard. The words rung with finality, and something about them made him desperate. Desperate for what he wasn't sure, but he had to fix this- whatever this was.

"Let's make a deal, Potter." The boy frowned, his eyes clearing into a more vibrant and aware color. Something that made him unbelievably relieved.

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll make an Unbreakable Vow to you that I won't tell the Dark Lord where you are or about your pregnancy."

"…And what do you want in exchange?"

"Just a favor. A favor of my choosing whenever I choose it." Potter looked to be thinking it over before sighing.

"I'll agree as long as the favor will not hurt my child physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally in anyway."

Nothing he didn't expect.

Lucius responded by lifting his wand, "I, Lucius Cassian Malfoy, do hereby swear on my magic to keep Harry James Potter's pregnancy and location secret from the Dark Lord in exchange for a favor of my choosing that does not impair his child physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally, so mote it be." He watched satisfied as magic cloaked him with a tight band. There were obvious ways around such a vow, but Mr. Potter wasn't well versed in politics to know.

He strapped his wand back to the inside of his wrist, smirking at Potter's bewildered face. He turned and moved towards the still open door, glancing over his shoulder for a moment.

"I'll let you know when I'm ready to collect." That said, he turned and strolled out the door, the memory of fiery green eyes still stuck in his mind. Now that he'd gotten Potter, hopefully for the foreseeable future, to stay in one place he'd have more time to unravel the mystery. In the meantime, he really should figure out the reason behind his own reactions. It was just…un-Malfoy like to be so out of control of one's own emotions.

Harry continued to stand in his kitchen, his eyes focused on the closed door with unwavering intensity. So much had happened and changed in the last couple of months, this on top of everything else was hard to digest.

Just a few short months ago he had been working through his anger over his Godfather dying, leaning on his friends for stability, and learning under Dumbledore things about Voldemort he never wished to know, but had to know if he wanted to live and not just survive. Harry didn't know who he hated more: Voldemort for being the obsessive psychopath he was, Dumbledore for being the manipulative, 'for the greater good' liar he was, or the bloody oracle who made the prophecy in the first place.

Either way, the last relatively normal day (or normal for him), he could remember was leaving Dumbledore's office after returning from a Horcrux hunt. The necklace was a fake and Dumbledore had allowed him to take the imitation with him. It was when he was nearing the stairs to the Gryfindor Tower that he heard the screams on the other side of the castle. Sounds of battle and the castle itself shook and he knew, way before the scream that Dumbledore was dead had reached him, that there were Death Eaters in the school. He had turned on his heel then and ran towards the other side of the castle, only to be blasted into a wall at some point. He had been dazed and disoriented from hitting his head on the stone wall that he couldn't fight whoever was dragging him into a dark, unused classroom in the part of the castle no one really went.

Gaining his bearings, he had tried to fight but his wand had already been removed and he had always been small and petite for his age and gender. His screams weren't heard and the sounds of battle were muted in the room. He couldn't tell if it was over quickly or if it was the longest moments of his life. He never saw who did it, and he never wanted to. Couldn't bear knowing that someone had made him feel more weak and powerless than Voldemort or a dementor ever had.

He had lain there on the floor after it was over, in too much pain to move and wanting to cry, but being unable to. His mind barely registered gentle hands replacing his clothes and, what felt like, an apologetic kiss on his ear, his cheek, and his brow. He hated it because that meant that whoever had done this was someone he knew, someone who was close enough to regret when the heat of the moment was over.

After the sound of a door opening and closing was heard, he managed to find the strength to curl up in a ball. Laying there he allowed himself to think. To think about his life and how it had led to all of this. Lying there, he wondered what he was going to do next. He couldn't face his friends, or at least not the friends he had left. Ron had drifted away during the year, blaming him for what happened at the ministry and Harry wasn't in the mood to entertain or try to fix the growing rift. He had instead, turned towards Hermione, Luna, and Neville. They had his back through all of this, but he couldn't imagine facing them now.

He felt so…dirty. Used and discarded. He wondered if he ever defeated Voldemort, would the wizarding world discard him as well. Would he live his life being used only to be discarded whenever his use was finished?

Those thoughts in mind, he had sat up through the pain and the haze, and asked for Dobby. The excitable elf was all smiles and floppy ears until he saw the state 'the great and powerful Harry Potter' was in. Then he was all tears and wringing hands. Harry smiled bitterly at Dobby's sympathy, though at least the elf was genuine, and asked for all of his things to be packed and brought to him.

He'd leave and go into hiding for a while. There were things he needed to think about, things he had to consider. Part of him wanted to run-away and never look back, and for once, he was going to indulge that un-Gryffindor mindset. He'd come back in September…maybe. But for now he just needed to get away. He didn't care what was going on in the castle. He didn't care who died or got hurt, for that moment at least, he was going to only worry about himself.

When Dobby came back, he requested for the elf to apparate him to muggle London, close to the Leaky Caldron. Once there he bought a room in a muggle hotel and stayed there for a little over a month. It had been the kind of reprieve he needed. He didn't think about the wizarding world, aside from the events that spilled over and made it onto the muggle news, and he sure as hell didn't think about what happened in the dark room.

No. He spent his time shopping around muggle London, seeing sights he had never seen before and buying everything he needed or wanted with the money that he let Dobby take out of Gringott's. Soon he began noticing patterns that became stronger as the days went by, things like being tired and weird cravings and, after a month had passed, morning sickness. He mentioned it to the hotel receptionist, a sweet, 40-something, brunette who he had become friends with during his stay.

"If I didn't know you were a man, I'd say you were pregnant." They had laughed about it then, but the longer it went on the more he thought about it. The more he thought about it the more he worried.

Finally, he decided to hail the Knight Bus and go to St. Mungo's. Covering himself with a dark cloak so his face would stay hidden, he managed to avoid conversations with Stan and arrived at the doors of St. Mungo's during a relatively slow hour. Face still shadowed, he requested a check-up after listing his symptoms. Thirty minutes later he was shown into a clean room.

He kept his hood on when the healer appeared and requested an oath that he wouldn't reveal his identity or any information he discovered here.

"Sir, all healers have taken an oath to never reveal their patients identities or ailments. Nothing you say or show me will be made public without your explicit and documented permission." Relieved, Harry removed his cloak and held back a laugh at the healer's sharp breath.

"Well, I see now why you wanted to make sure your identity remained secret. What can I do for you today, Mr. Potter?" Harry smiled at the dismissal of his identity and told the healer what he was experiencing. He watched as the man waved his wand around a couple times, his pen automatically jotting down notes on a clipboard that he couldn't see.

"Have you had any sexual activity recently, Mr. Potter?" The man seemed amused, though his expression turned to worry when Harry froze and blinked back tears. He had begun to accept what had happened by this point, though he was far from over it.

"Not…not willing."

"I…see." The frown between the healer's brows was sympathetic, though Harry was grateful that the conversation didn't dwell on the subject.

"On that note then, Mr. Potter, I am regretful to have to inform you that you are pregnant." Harry shuddered. His suspicion had been realized he just didn't know how.

"How? I am a man aren't I?" The healer smiled gently.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. But magic is a wonderful and amazing thing. It has the ability to conceive a child when the parents feel strongly for one another and the parents have enough magical power to sustain it."

"But…I don't understand. I don't know who…why…what if I hated this person? Would I have still gotten pregnant?" He felt like he was on the verge of tears, his hands clenched in frustration. He already knew the one who did it had to have known him or been close to him for him to have kissed him in such a way, but to have this confirmation. To know that it was someone close enough to him for feelings to be strong enough to produce a child…it scalded his insides.

"Hate is a strong emotion. It is quite possible that those emotions could capitulate both of your magics to create a womb and everything needed for conception. Regardless of the how, though, you are pregnant. You are still in the early stages, however, do you want to terminate?"

Harry's hands clenched almost painfully around his abdomen. He seriously considered going through with termination for a moment. Taking in the fact that he was carrying the child of someone who had hurt him badly. He wondered how he would feel when he looked at the child and saw someone he recognized, a reminder and a revelation all in one. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

But then, regardless of all that, this was his child. This was his family. The baby didn't ask for how it came to be or by whom, it just was. Who was he to take away a life before it got a chance to live? He would love this child, not because of who gave it to him but because it was his. That's all he needed to understand.

He shook his head at the healer. "No. It's mine. I'll protect it and raise them with a lot of love." It was quiet in the room for a moment. Harry accepting the weight of his decision and the healer smiling at his decision.

The healer coughed to break the quiet.

"Alright. If that is your decision then we need to discuss other issues. You are severely malnourished and underweight. If you do not rectify it, it will put you and the baby in danger further along. You have to take the normal pre-natal vitamins, but also nutrient supplements in order to keep you both at a steady pace. The further along you go the more the child will be draining you of your magic and nutrients. Since the father isn't here, all of it will be coming from you. Usually the father and bearer will be able to split the magic drain, but it won't be the same for you due to…circumstances. In any case, you need to get your body up to a certain weight by the time the baby's sex can be determined. That is around the time the magic drain increases. I recommend you eat as much as you can whenever you can. Listen to the cravings your body is telling you, you have them for a reason. And above all, avoid stress! Your body is under a lot of stress, and considering whom you are, I understand. But you need to avoid it. It will not just stress you, but the baby. It will weaken your immune system and magic, and if your body and magic are weak, so too will be the baby. "

Harry nodded. He had already planned to avoid the stress everything had been causing him; he now had a bigger reason to.

He left St. Mungo's in a weird state of confusion, anxiety, and optimism. His spent the entire trip back to the hotel plotting his next steps, steps that included finding a permanent place of residence, avoiding Voldemort, his lackeys, and the Order of the Phoenix, and staying stress free.

A couple days later, he moved into his very own two bedroom cabin. It was a perfect little quaint place on the outskirts of a small muggle town that reminded him of Godric's Hollow, though smaller. He had named the place Haven Hill since it was a sanctuary of sorts, and once he figured out a how to put a Fidelius on it, it would be a place no one could find him.

His spent the next month or so reading up on male pregnancies and getting his health up to snuff. He wouldn't risk his child's life because he couldn't keep up with his own.

Then there was today.

The one day he had ventured out to try and find an unregistered wand and things to prepare him for having the baby. The one day he had forgotten his invisibility cloak at home and didn't bother Dobby to apparate back because he wanted to enjoy 'the scenic route'. The one day he decides to be not so cautious is the one day that bloody fucking Lucius Malfoy followed him home.

The man was like an Adonis, Harry could admit to himself. All chiseled man and long, silky blonde hair and icy eyes that were unnaturally hot at times. But he was arrogant. He was surprised the man could walk with how far his head was up his own arse. The memory of the elder Malfoy's comment about having his legs up in the air and getting fucked made him almost see red. It made him seethe. The very insinuation that he wanted what had happened to happen pissed him off.

He didn't trust the man further than he could throw him without magic and that was not far at all. He may have gotten a magical oath out of Malfoy, but the man had clearly thought he couldn't see his way out of such an oath. Malfoy underestimated him and that was fine.

It was Malfoy who had sworn not to tell Voldemort his location in exchange for a favor. The request for a favor was suspicious in and of itself, but Harry didn't allow himself to dwell on it. He said he wouldn't leave Haven Hill and he wouldn't. No. He would just make Malfoy forget his location. But first there were things he needed to get.

He still needed an unregistered wand.

He needed someone he trusted.

He needed the incantation to the Fidelius.

Then again, after three days had passed and a knock on his door revealed a surprisingly ruffled and smoking Lucius Malfoy on the verge of unconsciousness standing on his welcome mat: he hadn't exactly expected the man to show up so soon.

A/N: Lucius Malfoy/ Harry Potter fanfiction inspired off a host of other stories such as some of Slayer-of Destiny's Unexpected Developments and Meant to Be by Phoenixmaiden13. They were inspirations but I don't plan on this story being anywhere close to the way those went so you can't consider this a rip off. I did however want to give credit where credit is due since both of those authors are two of my favorites and I respect their work. If you haven't read any of their work then please check them out.

I'm open to sweetly said criticism, if you flame me I'll be rude and if you have the balls enough to say something nastily have the balls to post your name too. I want to know whose speaking to me so I can respond. If you're nice I'll be nice back. Don't hide behind a computer. I've dropped writing fanfiction before simply because someone thought they had the right to be cruel, I'm trying again so don't ruin it for me.