1Chapter Three

Author's Notes: For this story to be able to exist it is set in an alternative universe where certain events after book five never took place, such as Dumbledore's death - for the simple reason that he's one of my favourite characters and I can't stand to refer to him in the past tense. I've also taken it upon myself to resurrect certain other characters that were so mercilessly taken from us in the last book.

A big thank you to those who have left comments, I really appreciate the feedback so please keep them coming. By the way, I hope you enjoy long fictions since I have plans to keep this going for as long as I'm able. Lets hope I can pull it off!

P.S. If you think Draco is getting too nice at any time let me know, I wouldn't want to ruin his reputation completely.

Disclaimer: If I really wanted to make money off these characters do you really think I'd be posting my stories on the internet and using their real names? No, I would have published a book using names like Drake Melfoy, Hermia Grange, Larry Otter and Donald Stoat!

"Hi guys" said Hermione mustering a cheerful tone, and avoiding Draco's steely gaze that was burning a hole in the sofa cushion behind her head.

"How are you feeling, pet?" asked Harry, giving her a one-armed hug and a quick peck on the cheek. An action that made Draco scowl even harder.

"Fine, a bit tired" answered Hermione, hoping he would take the hint. He didn't.

"Hermione! Look at this adorable teddy bear mum found. Here, press it's paw, go on press it" said Ginny enthusiastically, holding out a bear that could be out of the Steif family.

"Ginny -"

"Go on press his paw, you'll be amazed!" insisted Ginny.

Begrudgingly Hermione took the stupid bear from her friend, and pressed it's stupid paw. The bear lifted it's long muzzle, stared at her and then blinked it's beady black eyes. Hermione's own eyes widened in alarm.

"Hello pretty lady" said the bear in a low grainy voice.

"Urgh!" cried Hermione, throwing the teddy across the room in horror.

"Aww, don't you like it?" asked Ginny plaintively.

"I told you she wouldn't," said Harry "toys don't talk in the muggle world, at least not realistically. Besides, you've never seen 'Chuckie'."

As Ginny moved aside Ron stepped forward and offered Hermione another hug and kiss, which only darkened Draco's mood even more. It was one thing for Potter to kiss Hermione, quite another for Weasley to do it. It was no secret, after all, that he and Hermione had once been an item. Draco was now giving the weasel his patented Slytherin Death-glare - which in normal circumstances could reduce a person to tears - but Weasley, the brainless oaf, hadn't even noticed! This just annoyed Draco even more.

"Mum says she might drop by later to see you" Ron told Hermione cheerfully.

"Fan-bloody-tastic!" muttered Draco. It wasn't that he didn't like Mrs Weasley - actually he had grown quite fond of her over the years - but he didn't feel up to one of her visits today. He just wanted to be left alone. Was that so wrong? Hermione was still recovering from her ordeal yesterday, and he was pretty tired himself since he'd stayed up half the night watching her and the twins sleep. And where there was one Weasley, there was always more not far behind. Besides, it should be Hermione's parents getting first priority to see the twins, unfortunately they were in Sweden attending a dental conference. Ironically, Alison Granger had worried this exact scenario might happen, that she'd miss the birth of her own grandchildren. It had taken a lot of persuading from Draco, Hermione and her husband -who wasn't about to pass up a free holiday- to convince her she should go. What a mistake that had been!

"Which one's that?" asked Harry, leaning over Draco's shoulder and making him start. "Is it Mia?"

"No you stupid, four-eyed twat, it's my son - can't you see he's wearing blue! And for your information, Potter, it's Mira not Mia!" said Draco furiously.

"Alright, alright ... keep your hair on, bleach head" retorted Harry. "Is it alright if I hold him?"

"NO!" snapped Draco.

"What? Why not?" demanded Harry.

"Because ...!" Draco's inner Slytherin groaned and smacked a hand to it's devilishly good looking face. That's the best you can do?

"Stop being such an arsehole, Malfoy, and grow up. It's not like I'm going to hurt him or anything, come on!"

"NO! Sod off!"

"Hermione!" whined Harry "Your jackass husband wont let me hold Wyatt!"

Draco narrowed his eyes at the Boy-wonder. You, Harry Potter, are an evil, evil bastard! Calling in another man's wife to back you up ... that's just WRONG! I wont forget this, Potter, mark my words. I'll get even, just you wait, the world shall know that you are not the goody-good you claim to be.

"Draco, for heavens sakes, stop being such a child. Let Harry have a turn with Wyatt" said Hermione.

"But -!"

"Don't argue with me" she interrupted, eyes flashing dangerously. Draco's inner Slytherin was shaking it's head ruefully, Salazar would be turning in his grave if he could see you now. You have been well and truly whipped Malfoy.

With extreme reluctance Draco vacated his seat, letting Potter - who was wearing an infuriating grin - take his place. Carefully he lowered the baby into Harry's arms, feeling an unpleasant tug on his heart as he did so.

"Just be carful with him," he warned Harry "don't squeeze him too hard, keep his head up, don't -"

"Yeah, yeah - don't get your longjohns in a twist. I've held a baby before you know."

Draco spluttered indignantly. How could he possibly ...? His head snapped toward Hermione, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze. You told Potter what kind of underpants I wear?! UNBELIEVABLE!!! Why don't you just stick me in a pink bunny suit and parade me around Diagon Alley, it would be less humiliating than this! With a deep throated growl he threw himself down next to his wife, folding his arms aggressively across his broad chest. Hermione patted his thigh consolingly, which he ignored, watching Wyatt protectively.

"Hello my ickle darling," crooned Ginny, leaning over the bassinet and Mira. "I'm your auntie Ginny, and you've got the sweetest little face - yes you dooo - yes you dooo!"

"I think I'm going to be sick - yes I dooo - yes I dooo!" mocked Draco, earning himself a sharp elbow in the gut.

"This baby looks exactly like the other one" said Ron lamely, peering down at Mira. Hermione, Ginny and Harry groaned.

"By Jove, I think you're right!" said Draco, surprising everyone "that would explain the 'identical' in 'identical twins'! You've outdone yourself this time Weasley, you really are a genius."

Ron blushed to the roots of his flaming red hair. Harry bent his head further over baby Wyatt, his shoulders shaking from silent mirth. Hermione pressed her lips together, trying very hard not to smile. Ginny, who had no such qualms, threw her head back and laughed.

"Stupid prick!" said Ron.

"Ouch, Weasley, that really stung. How will we ever get anywhere in our relationship if you keep pushing me away?" drawled Draco.

Ron harrumphed and folded his arms. Getting in a few barbs lightened Draco's mood considerably, forgetting his ill feelings toward Hermione for the time being, he looped his arm around her shoulders tugging her closer to his chest and letting her head lean against his shoulder. He breathed in her intoxicating scent of jasmine and lavender and let a small smile curl the corners of his mouth.

"What I meant," continued Ron, peevishly "is that I wasn't expecting them to look exactly the same, given they're not the same sex. I've heard that boy and girl twins don't normally look that much alike."

"In most cases, but not all" said Hermione. "I should know, I -"

"- did the research" chorused Draco, Harry, Ron and Ginny.

Leaning forward slightly, Draco nuzzled his nose against Hermione's chestnut curls affectionately. Ginny, who had now seized hold of poor Mira, sat down heavily next to him while Ron perched on the armrest of Harry's chair.

"So, when do you expect your parents to get back?" asked Ginny.

"Tomorrow hopefully, or the day after. It depends when they can get a flight" explained Hermione. "Mum was frantic when I called her this morning, almost hysterical. And Merlin she kept going on and on about how I should be in bed and doing this and -"

"That's odd" interrupted Harry suddenly.

"Why should it be odd? She's my mother, it's only natural for her to worry about me."

"No! Not that, I mean Wyatt" Harry explained.

"What?" demanded Draco, snapping to protective father in an instant. "What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything, you git, here look at this" he got up from the chair and kneeled at Draco's legs (much to the Slytherin's alarm) "he's got this mark on his right hand. It's weird."

The couple leaned forward and peered at Wyatt's open palm, where there was indeed an unusual blemish on the otherwise ordinary pink little hand. At first glance it looked like a rust-coloured stain, but Draco leaning closer still - so that his head was uncomfortably close to Potter's - could start to make out a distinct shape. Cold fear gripped his heart.

"Is that - a spiral?" asked Hermione disbelievingly.

It certainly was, like a loose curl winding in toward the hollow of Wyatt's palm. Draco couldn't stop staring, his heart was pounding and it was suddenly very difficult to breathe. He was stupid to let this scare him, but he couldn't help it, he was a pureblood after all. It was a mediaeval superstition, so very few muggle-borns ever heard of it, but it was still believed by the pureblood families that a child born with an unusual mark such as this, was a cursed child. There were many examples in history of mysterious things happening to witches and wizards with strange marks. In some cases, these marks had been the downfall of wizards, when muggles had been especially fearful of witchcraft, those that were discovered paid with their lives for the marks they bore. But as far as Draco knew, there hadn't been a marked child born for centuries.

Of coarse Harry and Hermione knew nothing of this, and stared at the peculiar mark with curiosity. The Weasleys however had both paled like Draco, and shared a look of horror with each other.

"He's got a mark?" asked Ron fearfully "but that means ..."

Behind Draco's hunched form, Ginny waved her arm frantically at her dense brother. Don't say it Weasley thought Draco desperately don't you dare say it, don't say it out loud, please! Don't, Don't , DON'T!!!

"...he's cursed!" finished Ron, making Draco want to strangle him.

"What?" croaked Hermione, looking up anxiously.

"It's nothing, ignore him" said Ginny hastily.

"Don't be thick, Ron" said Harry.

"Ask Malfoy if you don't believe me, he'll know all about it!" persisted Ron, jabbing a finger at Draco's head.

"Draco?" said Hermione, turning to him with fear in her eyes. Oh Gods, what do I say?

"Superstitious claptrap!" he assured her, trying to convince himself.

"Exactly" agreed Ginny, for Hermione's sake. "Stop living in the Dark ages Ron!"

"But it's -"

"C'mon Ron, don't be daft. How can you be cursed because of a birthmark?" asked Harry dubiously.

"You've got a mark, and your life has hardly been a bed of roses!" argued Ron stubbornly.

"That's completely different! My mark was cut into my head at age one by Voldermort, I wasn't born with it!" retorted Harry angrily.

"Born with it or not being marked is not a -"

"You know, Weasley, if you don't stop talking about this crap, I'll have to ask you to leave!" said Draco, savagely.

"Ginny, back me up here!"

"Shut up Ron, you're scaring Hermione" hissed Ginny.

Ron guiltily ran a hand through his fiery hair. "Look, 'Mione, I'm sorry ... just ignore me okay ... I'm probably too old to believe in this mumbo-jumbo anyhow."

"You're sure there's nothing to worry about?" Hermione asked the room at large.

"Absolutely" said Ginny.

"Nothing at all, only idiots believe in this nonsense" added Draco.

"It's just like all that Grim baloney back in third year, and look how that turned out" Harry put in cheerfully.

"Yeah, you're right" sighed Hermione.

So ... said Draco's evil inner Slytherin does that make you an idiot then? Thankfully Draco managed to keep the scowl that so desperately wanted to creep onto his face from appearing. Oh shut up he thought back viciously. The truth was he was as scared as hell for what this weird mark meant for Wyatt's future.

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Galen paced up and down the length of the small table restlessly, growing more frustrated and infuriated by the second. Despite his activity he was quiet, not even his fluid midnight robes made a sound as they dragged across the cold stone floor. For Galen understood the importance of silence during a crucial moment like this, so no matter how impatient he grew or how enraged he became he would not interrupt. The seer Randall was seated at the table, with his eyes closed, his mind still and his inner eye open and pulsating with psychic energy. In his outstretched hand, hovering above a yellowed, fraying map of Britain and tied to a length of cord was an amethyst crystal which slowly turned in clock-wise circles.

The seer was scrying - an ancient form of Divination, rarely used by modern wizards to locate a persons' exact location - trying with all of his might to find the boy. Problem was he'd been trying for over four hours now and the crystal hadn't touched the map once. Randall was exhausted and the strain was starting to show in his heavily lined face. He was also starting to feel severe pain in his temples, always a clear warning that he should stop and rest. But he dare not stop, not yet at least. His master was counting on him to track down the child, and Randall feared what might happen if he failed. Galen wouldn't kill him, Randall knew this, he was the only seer among them and therefore too valuable to kill. This fact however, was not a relief, for as Randall had learned ... there are worse things than death.

Unfortunately Randall's stamina had been stretched too far - he was, after all, immensely old - and it chose that precise moment to snap like a rubber band pulled too tight. Pain exploded in his head and Randall collapsed with a groan almost pitching his fragile skull into the hard oak table top. Surprisingly Galen caught his shoulder before the seer could meet his own demise (Randall would decide later whether that was a good or bad thing) laying his head on the table with unnatural gentleness.

"What's taking so long!" snarled Galen fiercely, his tone contrasting his actions completely.

"Forgive me my lord ..." gasped Randall desperately.

"I don't want excuses, I want results! I want the boy!!!" roared Galen, making Randall flinch. "The sooner we extract him from his parents the better. Did I not make that clear? I have not waited for this moment for three centuries for you to ruin all our plans! I warn you, Randall, if you fail me -"

"No my lord, please!" begged Randall "I will not fail you, I swear. I shall find the boy, I shall ... just let me try again."

"How hard can it be to find one child on an island as small as Britain?!" demanded Galen furiously.

"It's not my fault, lord Galen" explained Randall hastily "there's some kind of interference, something blocking the child's position and no matter how many times I try, I can't penetrate it!"

"Yes that makes sense" said Galen quietly, releasing the death-grip he'd been keeping on Randall's scrawny neck.

"Yes, that makes perfect sense" he repeated in a much calmer voice. "You should have said something earlier, Randall, we could have had this done with hours ago" he chastised. "Sit up, Randall and we shall go again."

The seer dare not argue and quickly resumed his original position. As the crystal began to circle again he felt Galen's powerful hand close around his bony wrist. The crystal began to spin faster than ever, faster than Randall had ever felt it spin before. As his eyes were still closed he did not see the maniacal glint in Galen's eyes nor the bright purple light which was the crystal. He reached out with his mind, searching for the unique presence that was the boy, the presence he had touched briefly in his vision. Almost immediately he came across that barrier of energy, the likes of which he had never encountered before in his entire life. But it was different this time, not nearly as solid as it had been. With a few more minutes of prodding and exploring the barrier he felt it suddenly shatter around him.

Suddenly, there he was! There was the boy, the long awaited saviour, the answer to all their problems, the leader to guide them to a glorious new future, there he was glowing in the dark like a beacon of hope. Randall felt the familiar magnetic tug on his arm which meant he had succeeded in doing his job. With a thud the crystal dropped to the map, pointing out Wyatt Malfoy's home, a large Victorian house in the country, just outside London. Behind Randall, Galen's chest began to vibrate with a deep rumbling chuckle.

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Author's Notes: I got the idea for Wyatt's birthmark from a book I'm reading right now called 'Runemarks' which is a brilliant take on ancient celtic Gods such as Odin and Loki and is set in this amazing world of magic and superstition. Although in the book the mark on the girls' palm is not a spiral, but something else entirely. Just thought you'd be interested.

So? How did you enjoy chapter three? Please let me know, I love getting your reviews. Chapter four coming soon.