Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, paying my college tuition wouldn't be such a big deal.

Author's note: Hey. I am so sorry for making you all wait a month. It has just been crazy around here, not a bad crazy exactly, but just hectic. So, apologies again, thank you to all of my reviewers, and here's the next chapter.

p.s. Did I mention I was sorry?

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Kingsley let the 'contego' shield drop. The room brightened in an instant, the shades of red coming into view now that the blue dome was gone. Draco glanced outside and saw the clouds thinning, now white instead of grey. He looked back down to Fleur, but caught Bill's gaze instead.

The hazel eyes were thankful, more than thankful, and Draco nodded, but more out of relief. He was a genius, not a surgeon, and the fact that Fleur actually pulled through was more testimony to a mother's strength and pure, damn luck.

Bill opened his mouth, no doubt about to annunciate his gratitude, but then Molly Weasley was there, handing over the crying infant to his father. Draco watched as Bill held his son, the newborn's cries slowly subsiding, and the two just stared at each other. The rest of the room stared at them, grinning sappily. Altogether, it was an emotive, touching scene that Draco could have done without.

He rolled his eyes and then scourgified the blood off of his hands and arms. It took him two tries and he frowned. He needed a strong cup of coffee, or a shot of Ogden's whiskey. Or a sip of Angel Flight.

Draco paused at that unbidden thought, but instead of pushing it away, he turned it over carefully in his mind, examining it. He was pleased to determine that it was only slightly stronger than a whim. The knowledge of the drug was always in his mind; whenever he drank an alcoholic beverage, he always knew he could go one step further. The thought of Angel Flight was more pressing than that knowledge, but only by a hair. It was an itch in the back of his mind, and Draco could easily ignore an itch. In a few days, it would fade.

He really could use a cup of coffee though -- he was completely drained. Calling up the shield took energy, and using the healing charm was akin to giving blood, but instead of a transfusion of red blood cells, he was giving a bit of his magical reserves. He could always go to bed a bit early to recover thought, so he wasn't too worried.

There were suddenly voices in the other room, or rather, those who were in the dining room became louder, and Draco could distinguish the even tones of Albus Dumbledore. The door into the living room opened and the Headmaster stepped in, quickly crossing to Fleur.

He preformed an advanced diagnostic charm and then looked to Bill and preformed the same on the baby.

"Molly," he said, not looking up from the child, "would you Floo over to the school, the infirmary entrance, all the others are not yet operational, and ask Poppy to come over. I think she will be able to look after Fleur now that all of the excitement is over."

"The school nurse?" inquired Mrs. Weasley.

"Poppy's been aware of our little group for some time now," said Dumbledore, as Mrs. Weasley got up to leave. "Merlin knows I can't put much past her." He suddenly twinkled as the newborn flailed a tiny arm. "And Poppy will take a look at you too, yes she will, although I think she will find you perfectly healthy." He pronounced the last with a soft touch to the baby's nose.

Draco wondered what it was about babies that caused adults to beam ridiculously. And the high 'baby' voices were obnoxious as well. Yes, children did hear higher-pitched frequencies better than low ones, but honestly, it was an infant. It really didn't understand anything that was said to it.

"A boy?" asked Dumbledore to Bill.

"Yes," said Bill.

"He is a beautiful child," said Dumbledore. "Who preformed the caesarian?"

Bill looked over to Draco and Dumbledore smiled. "Of course. Do you have an interest in Healing, Draco?"

Draco would have shrugged, but he was too tired. "I read the concept in a book once."

"You appear to be quite adept for simply reading about the procedure."

"It's really just knowing the human anatomy."

"Have you ever considered a career in Healing?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and snorted.

Pomfrey bustled into the room, immediately kneeling next to Fleur and casting half a dozen different, detailed diagnostic charms. She looked up at the room in irritation.

"I'm with a patient."

Ginny and Hermione made their way out of the room, being besieged by the rest of the Weasley clan once they left the door, but then Dumbledore stepped out and seemed to disperse the crowd. Draco took Kingsley's proffered hand and allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet. There was a moment of dizziness, but he had prepared for it and managed to walk out the door without swaying. His inner ear found his balance by the time he reached the dining room, and Charlie Weasley slipped past him and into the living room before the door shut.

Dumbledore had sent the rest of the family upstairs to check for damage caused by the storm and Draco was relieved at the lack of people. He didn't think he was up to answering any questions. He walked straight into the kitchen and fumbled for the coffee.

Dumbledore neatly swiped the can from him and then firmly guided him back into the dining room. Draco didn't offer much resistance but sat in the chair the Headmaster directed him towards. Dumbledore summoned a chocolate bar from the kitchen, unwrapped it, and set it in front of Draco.

"Eat this," said Dumbledore. "Hermione, if you wouldn't mind, I think you could all do with a spot of tea?"

"Of course," said Hermione. Ginny followed her into the kitchen to help.

Draco broke off a square of the chocolate and bit into it. It was a good brand, not too sweet. He wondered how much of the comfort he felt was really from the cocoa and how much of it was purely psychological, but he was too tired to do much more than wonder. He broke off a second piece.

"How's the Ministry, Kingsley?" Dumbledore asked, summoning the Auror his own chocolate bar because the Auror was looking worn.

"Impossible to tell," said Kingsley. "The storm was just getting started when we were evacuated, but even then…," he trailed off and shook his head. "They brought in all of the warders they could to pull up shields so hopefully that helped some. I hear you felt the storm coming a long way off."

"It is one of the benefits of old age," said Dumbledore. "My right knee aches when a storm is coming and my left throbs in the presence of strong dark magic."

"So both of them ached then?"

"No," said Dumbledore. "My toes were particularly tender this morning."

The two Gryffindor girls returned with the tea, Ginny setting a mug in front of Draco with a small smile.

"Ah, thank you, Hermione," said Dumbledore, as he accepted his own mug and then he turned back to Kingsley. "I realized something was causing my toes to ache later in the day and Severus realized something was wrong after a few of his more volatile potions reacted so he made a few inquires. It turns out Tom has been more active than we first thought. We understood the small amount of revels and raids to be an indication that he hadn't gained the necessary support for something larger, but now it appears he was just hiding 'under the radar', as the Muggles say."

"The storm didn't really make your toes ache though, did it?" asked Hermione awkwardly. She obviously felt inquiring after the Headmaster's toes was rude, but curiosity wouldn't let her keep silent.

"The storm was made of dark spells," Dumbledore explained. "After repeated exposure to such magic, one requires a certain feel for the curses, much like older fishermen can tell when a storm is coming even when the skies are clear."

"Is that how you knew?" asked Ginny.

There was a pause and Draco looked up from his tea to see that she was staring at him expectantly.

"Oh." He gave a half shrug. "I'm familiar with dark magic, so yeah, I was more attuned to the storm."

"Draco here has already dissected half of the storm," said Kingsley to Dumbledore.

"Not really," said Draco. "It's just a theory."

"Still, quite an accomplishment," said Dumbledore. "We'll have to let you poke about a bit at the Ministry then and see if you can't find out more about the storm."

Draco nodded, actually quite excited about having a chance to survey the damage. The living room door opened and Pomfrey stepped out.

"I thought you would like to know that Bill and Fleur have a healthy son, fifteen inches long and seven pounds. A little small, but that isn't surprising."

"And Fleur?" asked Ginny.

"Sore, exhausted, and a little tender, but the surgery, while crude, went incredibly well. She'll be off her feet for a week, just to be on the safe side, and we'll be watching her for any sign of infection, but she'll recover. I am told that it is thanks to you, Mr. Malfoy, after using an illegal shield charm and a spell that requires certification from a medi-wizard to perform legally." Her tone was on the side of disapproving.

Draco met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. Pomfrey frowned.

"You do look a bit peaky," she said, crossing over to him and raising a hand to lay on his forehead. He jerked away.

"I'm fine."

"Let me be the judge of that," said Pomfrey. "It's amazing you aren't falling asleep right now. And look at you, you're soaking wet. What did you do? Stand outside in the storm?"

Draco looked down. He was still damp, wasn't he? The discomfort had been pushed out of mind when he had been delivering the baby, and afterwards the exhaustion had taken precedence. Now, however, he was experiencing the full irritation of damp clothing, but he merely shrugged.

"Only for a few minutes," he said.

Kingsley snorted and Pomfrey rounded on him.

"Don't think I haven't forgotten about you. You're next on the check up. There is a reason that spell is illegal."

She dug into her bag and pulled out a vial. "Drink," she told Draco.

Draco looked at the liquid before downing it. The potion was simply a blend of energy restoring drafts and vitamins, and he couldn't detect any sleep aids.

The living room door opened and Charlie stepped through.

"Fleur's finished the medicine," he said to the nurse.

"Good," said Pomfrey. She turned back to Draco. "I want you to take a hot shower after you finish that chocolate bar and then it's straight to bed, understand?"

"I was-," Draco started but the nurse frowned. He cut himself off as he realized that Dumbledore was echoing Pomfrey's unrelenting expression and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine."

He bit into another piece as she left, calculating exactly how long he could make the bar last. He frowned when he realized the room seemed to be revolving slowly in a clockwise manner. He wasn't that tired; he really wasn't. He blinked, forcing the room to a stand still, but then it began drifting the other way.

It took him a few moments to realize that Dumbledore and Kingsley were exchanging looks after glancing his way and they weren't even being coy. They really didn't have to with how spacey he was being at the moment.

He stood. "I'm heading up."

He moved towards the stairs, but then Charlie was there.

"You need some help?" the red-haired dragon keeper asked.

"Unless I suddenly revert to a state of being reminiscent to my toddler years, no, I should be able to navigate a flight of stairs with a successful result."

Charlie grinned but his cheeks reddened slightly. Draco took a small amount of pity on him.

"Bill told you to check up on me, didn't he?"

"He's a little worried," Charlie admitted.

"Tell him I'm fine."

Draco continued up the stairs, stopping by his room to grab a pair of clean sweat pants and a worn t-shirt before continuing to the bathroom. He was relieved to strip off his wet clothes, and even more relieved to step into the hot shower. His back stung under the spray; his burns were almost healed, but still a little tender.

He checked them as well as he could when he stepped out of the shower, turning around and straining to see the reflection in the mirror that had an anti-steam charm on it, mostly likely put on by one of the girls in the house. It was only when he looked at the tattoo that the silence in the back of his mind was noticeable. It had been busy in the house, and for the noise and distraction, he was grateful.

He pulled on the loose pajama pants, giving the burns one last check. They could use a little more salve, but that would mean finding someone to help him which would mean letting someone see. He pulled on his t-shirt; the salve wasn't necessary.

There was a knock on the door.

"I'm out," he said, pulling the door open, expecting to see Ginny or Hermione standing there. Instead it was Sirius.

"How are you doing?" the man asked.

Draco immediately knew by the look in his eyes what he was talking about. "It's loud here," he said simply.

Sirius gave a wry grin. "It usually isn't this eventful," he said, but then stopped and reconsidered. "Alright, so there's usually something going on, but this is the first time a baby's been born in the middle of a freak storm."

Draco felt a half-smile tug at the corner of his lip.

"How's your back?" asked Sirius suddenly. He held up a small jar of burn salve. "I thought you could use this, and I figured you wouldn't want anyone else to, well, it is…personal, and hard for other people to understand who haven't grown up with the culture."

Draco hesitated, but then nodded. Sirius unscrewed the lid and Draco pulled off his shirt. Sirius applied the balm and then taped gauze over it.

"Thanks," said Draco, pulling his shirt back on.

"I think your back should be fine after this," said Sirius, "but if you need an ear, or a voice, let me know."

Draco nodded and Sirius walked off. Draco grabbed his wet things and then walked down the hall to his room. He threw the clothes into a pile and shut the door. He didn't bother pulling down the covers on the bed, but simply lay down. He drifted off within moments, something extraordinary for an insomniac.

He was standing in the entry room of the Department of Ministries, but the seven doors weren't revolving as they had when he had entered with Voldemort. Instead, they were stopped, and the door to the Veil was open. He could see inside, could see the cloth blowing in the invisible wind. He could also see that the door next to the Veil room was closed, but light was shining from underneath the bottom.

'So, you took our advice.'

Draco whirled around, but he couldn't see anyone there. 'Hello?'

'You know where we are; you just don't want to admit it.'

Draco turned back to the Veil. 'So I know where you are, but who are you?'

'The ones that urged you to follow the members of the light, even though you are not of life yourself.'

'So why did you?'

'We can gaze at possibilities.'

'And you thought we were a good match?' His tone was disbelieving.

'You are shadow, yes, but shadows cannot exist in the dark.'

'And what? You just wanted to give me some friendly advice?'

'You will be instrumental in the conflicts to come.'

'And you're rooting for the light, I take it.'

'Aren't you?'

'I was wondering if you were taking the stance of there needs to be a balance.'

'When good wins, who really looses?'

'Besides, the bad guys you mean.'

Amused laughter. 'We do not step into the affairs on your own plane, unless the conflict involves our own.'

'The Horcruxes,' said Draco.

'It is an evil that has the power to destroy your world. You must come back; there is more to discuss.'

'Why can't you tell me now?'

'The connection is fading.'

'What do you mean?'

'We can contact you like this because you came into contact with us, but the connection never lasts for long.'

'So why didn't you just tell me before?'

'We have our reasons.'

'That doesn't tell me anything.'

'The connection is fading; you must return.'

'You still haven't told me who you are.'

There was no answer and the room started blurring.

'Wait!'

But even as he started forward he jolted up from his bed, panting slightly and trying to orient himself. He ran a hand over his face and sighed.

"Shit," he said, feelingly.

He flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, turning the dream over in his mind before pushing it away and glancing to the clock. It was eleven p.m. He had slept the entire day.

He tried closing his eyes again, wondering if he could fall back to sleep, but he was simply too awake, and his eyes kept blinking open. He groaned and sat up. There were always his projects downstairs to work on.

Draco pulled off his sleep pants and pulled on a pair of khaki trousers. He then put on a clean oxford over his t-shirt but didn't bother to do the buttons up the front. He was only wearing it to hide the scar on his arm. He left his room and headed down the stairs, surprised to find that there was light coming from the dining room as well as the soft murmur of voices.

He walked in to see Dumbledore and Bill talking over cups of tea, both looking up when he entered. Bill grinned.

"I told you he wouldn't sleep all night too," he told Dumbledore. He turned to Draco. "How are you feeling?"

Draco frowned at him. "Do you realize how many times I have been asked that question in the past two weeks? It's ridiculous, unnecessary, and tiresome."

"So is having you answer 'fine' every time I ask," Bill returned, but he was still grinning, so it meant he wasn't at all put off by Draco's snark.

"How is your family?" asked Draco, pulling out a chair and sitting. Dumbledore poured him a cup of tea and he accepted it with a nod.

"They're doing great," said Bill, his grin widening, though Draco didn't know how it was possible. "Of course, you realize that before long the entire Weasley family will owe you a life-debt?"

Draco snorted.

"I'm serious," said Bill. "First me, then Ron, now Fleur and the baby. And you saved Ginny from the ghoul that one time in school."

Draco shrugged and sipped at his tea.

"Draco," said Bill, "has anyone told you that you're incredible?"

"Pansy, on several occasions," said Draco, "as well as several other older female Slytherins and about half of the Ravenclaws girls who graduated last year."

Bill punched him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm being serious," he said. "You are amazing, and thank you, for everything."

Draco rolled his eyes, but he could feel his cheeks grow hot. He took another sip of his tea.

"You still haven't met the newest addition have you?" asked Bill.

"Bill, I pulled it out of your wife. We've met," said Draco dryly.

"But not properly," said Bill. "Come on."

He stood and headed for the door, clearly expecting Draco to follow him. Draco hesitated, but then he realized that Bill was looking…anticipatory? Did he really want that much for Draco to see his child? Did it really mean that much to him?

Draco got up, strangely touched that Bill seemed so eager.

"I don't want to wake anyone up," he said, lingering back.

"Fleur woke up a while ago," said Bill. "Come on."

And then Dumbledore was there, shooing Draco in as well, and Draco stepped into the room. Fleur was awake and sitting up on a transfigured bed, cocooned in pillows and blankets. She was smiling and holding her baby as Mrs. Weasley fawned over the both of them.

"Look who it is," Fleur told her baby in the high-pitched tones everyone uses when speaking to a baby. "Is that daddy? Yes, it is. Yes, it is."

Fleur and Mrs. Weasley both laughed delightedly when the baby sneezed.

"Come on," said Bill, dragging Draco closer to the bundle and the still-red face. "Well?" Bill asked, expectantly.

"Congratulations," said Draco.

Bill laughed, then lightly pushed him over to the chair right by the bed. "Sit here," he said.

Draco sat and looked at the Weasley in askance, but then Bill gently took the bundle from his wife. Draco immediately saw where this was headed.

"Oh no," he said, starting to get up. "Bill, no. Keep it away from me."

Bill just grinned and took a step forward so Draco couldn't leave the couch without brushing by him and Draco wasn't going to do that, not when Bill was carrying the baby.

"No," he said again. "Bill, I'll break it or something."

Bill laughed and stepped forward again and Draco had to sit down to avoid touching the infant and then Bill was holding him out. Draco was a genius, and so when holding the baby became inevitable, he let the child be placed in his arms and held it with a perfect form, if not a little gingerly. Once the baby was settled in the crook of his arm, he looked down at it and stared.

The boy was awake and staring up at him. Draco knew that babies couldn't see far when they were first born, but it looked as if the child was looking straight at him. It had clear blue eyes, eyes that would stay blue even as he grew older, and its hair was nothing more than orange fuzz. One free, tiny arm waved about as the child squirmed and then shut his eyes. Draco reached out with his free hand, intending on tucking the arm back inside the blanket, but then tiny, fragile fingers wrapped around his thumb and Draco froze. For such a small body, it seemed rather strong.

He looked up to see that everyone was watching him, stupid grins on their faces.

"Poor kid has your hair," he told Bill, just to break the mood.

"Yeah," said Bill, "but he's got his mother's eyes."

"I am glad he has your hair," said Fleur.

"Umm…I think it fell asleep," said Draco, trying to remove his finger, but the baby wasn't going to let go and he was afraid of waking it.

"It?" asked Bill. "It's a baby. You can't call him an 'it'."

"And yet you seem to be lacking a name for him," said Draco. "Still haven't decided then?"

Bill hesitated, glancing over at Fleur who nodded.

"Actually," he said, "we wanted to talk to you about that."

"You do realize, that while I am a genius, that does not mean I can come up with the perfect baby name, right?" he asked.

Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley laughed; Bill ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, you saved his life," he said, "and you saved Fleur. I was wondering, we were wondering," he corrected himself, taking Fleur's hand, "if we could name the child after you, not Draco, because I have a feeling you'd hate that-,"

"It's a terrible name," agreed Draco. He had never been teased about it, because no one had the guts too, but it wasn't exactly a common name, even in the wizarding world.

"So, we wondering…what about Lukas?"

Draco blinked, and then stared down at the baby in his arms.

"I mean," Bill said quickly, "you can say 'no'. I understand completely if you didn't want us using that name, but I thought, well- we do owe you, and you can definitely let us know if we're over stepping our bounds, and -,"

"Yes," said Draco, looking up and cutting Bill off. Bill suddenly looked crestfallen, and Draco realized how his answer had sounded.

"I mean, no, you haven't over stepped the bounds," he corrected. "I would be honored if you named him Lukas."

Bill grinned. "Thank you. I've already started thinking of him as a Lukas."

"What's the middle name?" asked Draco.

"Arthur," said Fleur. "Lukas Arthur Weasley."

"You do realize that his initials spell 'law', right?" asked Draco.

Bill shrugged. "So we've already planned out his career and interests, nothing wrong with that." But his eyes were sparkling, which meant he was just teasing.

"Do you, uh," said Draco, nodding at the baby in his arms and looking up at Bill. "I'm not exactly…fond of babies."

"Better get used to it," said Bill, making no move to take his son. "We're making you godfather."

"Don't I get a choice?" asked Draco.

"'Course not," said Bill, and then he paused. "If you really didn't want," he started.

"No, I do," said Draco quickly, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was going to be godfather to the baby in his arms, and that Bill was naming him Lukas. He was overwhelmed and pleased all at once. "I'm just not babysitting," he told Bill, completely serious about that, at least, not until the kid was fifteen and could take care of himself. Who knew how badly he would mess the kid up?

"What about changing diapers?" asked Bill.

"Not ever," said Draco.

"Fair enough," said Bill.

"Could you take him now?" asked Draco, freeing his finger from the baby's grasp. "Before I drop him, or something?"

Bill laughed and then took his son from Draco. Already he was an expert at handling the baby, with a hand supporting the infant's neck and moving so gently Lukas didn't even stir. Fleur smiled at them both, but she looked tired, so Draco stood, giving Bill a half-smile in parting.

Mrs. Weasley was talking with the Headmaster at the door, but Dumbledore bid her good-night, and Draco moved to step out as well. Before he could, Mrs. Weasley reached out and gently took his hand, stopping him from leaving.

"You are a miracle," she told him sincerely. She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

Draco left the room, a bit startled, and the Headmaster gave him a smile.

"Don't stay up too late, my boy," he said, and then threw some Floo in the fireplace and stepped through.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't tired and there was no way he was going to be able to sleep, not after he had just slept the entire afternoon and evening away, so he went to his study and picked up the dagger.

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Bill was up early because Lukas was. His son was hungry and he wanted everyone to know it. Bill passed his son to Fleur and after Lukas' early breakfast, both of them fell asleep once more.

Bill watched them for a few moments, both sleeping soundly on the large bed Dumbledore had transfigured for them. Fleur said it was the most comfortable mattress she had ever slept on, and Bill believed her. She never slept this deeply, but then again, she had never recovering from a c-section before either.

He slipped out of the room to find some breakfast for himself, and was surprised to see that his mother, Kingsley, Sirius, and Charlie were all up. The soundproofing charm Pomfrey had put around the living room to give Fleur some peace and quiet must really work.

"Ah, there's the new father," Kingsley greeted him, toasting to him with a mug of coffee.

"Doesn't look like a new father to me," said Sirius. "Isn't he supposed to be dead tired with graying hair?"

"It's just the first night," Kingsley rejoined. "Give him some time."

Charlie laughed along with them but then turned to his older brother.

"So, what's the name?" he asked. "Or did you just refuse to tell us what you had decided on a month ago because you had no idea?"

"We had no idea," Bill admitted. "But his name is Lukas Arthur."

"Lukas," said Kingsley. "That was Draco's half-brother, Laney's father, right?"

Bill nodded.

"It's a good name," said Kingsley and Sirius agreed.

"But you do realize that your kid's initials spell law, right?" he asked.

"Pushing him in any particular direction, Bill?" asked Kingsley.

Bill grinned. "Just a little bit." He noted that Kingsley wasn't wearing his Auror robes. "Day off Kingsley?"

"Until further notice," said Kingsley. "They're still trying to ascertain all of the damage at the Ministry and there are some Aurors at the secondary office, but the rest of us are off."

"Not just the Ministry was hit though," said Sirius. "St. Mungo's is in pretty bad shape as well." He passed the paper over and Bill looked at the front picture of the hospital. He whistled.

"Point to the Death Eaters on this one," said Kingsley. "Dumbledore is going over to the Ministry later today to help piece together the content of the storm. Do you think Draco will be up to traveling today?"

"I wouldn't even be able to begin to keep him here," said Bill. "And it's not as if he's already working too hard."

"Well, he is a Malfoy," said Sirius. "You didn't think he would be easy to get along with, did you?"

"Point," Bill allowed.

His mother came into the room with a fresh pot of tea.

"How's Fleur?" she asked.

"Sleeping," said Bill.

"Hey, Molly, do you need any help?" asked Sirius.

"We're all here with nothing to do," Kingsley chimed in.

Molly looked at them. "Do I want two bachelors in the kitchen with me trying to make breakfast? I'm going to say no." She laughed and then traveled back into the kitchen.

"I think she just insinuated that we were bad cooks, Kingsley," said Sirius.

"Everyone knows I can't cook," said the Auror, shrugging his large shoulders. "It doesn't need to be insinuated."

Breakfast only took a few more minutes, and the teens of the house surprised everyone by actually coming down without having to be woken up. Bill figured that they had been motivated by the prospect of seeing Lukas, because Pomfrey hadn't allowed any visitors yesterday, due to the risk of infection. He was proved correct when Fred and George turned to him expectantly.

"When can we see our nephew?" asked Fred.

"After breakfast," said Bill.

"Have you come up with a name yet?" asked Fred.

"It is Gred, right?" asked George, looking rather expectant.

Ron made a face. "If you did, I will claim no relation."

Hermione smacked him on the arm but Harry laughed.

"Lukas," said Bill. "Lukas Arthur Weasley."

"Lukas as in Draco's half-brother?" asked Ron.

Bill nodded.

"I like it," said Hermione, and the other Weasleys nodded as well. Ginny smiled but then scrunched up her nose.

"Are you trying to push him to become a lawyer?"

Bill sighed. "Yes, his initials spell 'law'. We're aware."

The table laughed at him and then Molly came in with a plate of toast.

"Where's Draco?" she asked.

"Wasn't in his room," said Harry.

"I know where he is," said Bill. He got up and walked down the hall to the back room. He pushed the door open and found the boy hunched over a notebook. It was immediately apparent that Draco hadn't gone to bed after waking up yesterday night. He was still in the same t-shirt and trousers, although the button-up shirt he was wearing before was slung over the back of the chair.

"Draco," said Bill, when Draco failed to look up from the notebook. He was writing swiftly as he glanced between two open books and then a bottle with a small amount of clear liquid in it. The liquid was bubbling slightly.

"Hmm?" asked Draco, not paying attention to him at all.

"Breakfast is ready. Did you even get any sleep last night?"

"I wasn't tired," said Draco, now picking up the bottle with his free hand and raising it to the light. He frowned and made a note in the pages.

Bill was about to start a lecture when he noticed something on Draco's bare arm. He stepped further into the room, reaching out and halting Draco's writing with a hand on the boy's shoulder. Draco glanced over, brows knit, but Bill was already pulling Draco's arm up so he could look at the scar.

He knew when Draco finally realized his intentions because he could feel Draco stiffen and try to pull away, but he didn't let go.

Draco's arm was still sporting a few bruises where his blood vessels hadn't completely healed, and the marks were dark against the pale skin. The scar itself was a still-red welt, running jaggedly for several inches. It was strikingly serpentine, and then Bill turned Draco's arm over to see the identical wound on the other side.

He looked up at Draco, but the grey eyes were downcast, studiously examining the table.

"Does it hurt still?" he asked.

"It's fine."

"You know, the trouble with saying that all the time is that I no longer believe you."

The grey eyes slid up to meet his gaze. "Only when I strain my arm or put too much pressure on it."

"I had no idea it was this bad," said Bill. "I didn't think it was this long, because the blade…," he trailed off, realizing the truth. The blade wasn't that wide; Voldemort had speared Draco's arm and then pulled his hand, causing the long gash.

"Yeah," said Draco softly.

It was that soft tone that had Bill pause. The scar was a sore point with Draco, but there was more too it than that, something else was disturbing him. He knew that Draco wouldn't reveal anything further, so he would have to dig deeper.

"It looks like a snake," he said, trying to start a conversation, but Draco visibly flinched at the word 'snake'.

Bill paused, knowing that he had just hit the reason for Draco's discomfort, but not knowing why. Why would a snake-?

"Ah," he said, answering his own question.

He let Draco pull his arm away, and then the white-blond deliberately picked up his quill again.

"It's entirely different from a Dark Mark," said Bill.

Draco didn't look over.

"Draco, the Death Eaters sign up for their jobs; they want the mark. This is Voldemort's sick way of punishing you for not taking it."

"It's in the same place as a Dark Mark," said Draco. "I'll still be wearing long sleeves for the rest of my life with the rest of the Death Eaters."

"Why?"

Draco looked at him with an incredulous expression.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," said Bill.

"I'd rather not spend the rest of my life having people stare at my arm," said Draco.

"Harry seems to cope with the stares."

"He's the sodding Boy-Who-Lived."

"And you're the son of Lucius Malfoy who denounced Voldemort to his face. There are going to be stares even without the scar."

"It's ugly," said Draco.

Bill frowned. Since when was Draco concerned with looks? His confusion must have shown because Draco sighed.

"I know that people think I'm attractive in a…fey sort of way, but I've never drawn attention to my looks on a day to day basis. Sometimes I do, when I need to get noticed or I need to make a point, but it's not as if I don't care how I look. I like being clean and neat and dressed well. This," he said, gesturing at his arm, "is crude and ugly."

Bill was silent, turning Draco's words over in his head. It was true. He had never seen Draco dress to draw attention, purposely looking handsome. On the occasion he was wearing finer robes, it was only to annunciate the quality of the robes, and how expensive they had been, but still, he had always dressed well. His sense of style was so developed, and he wore high fashion so casually, it was almost as if he was accidentally dressed so well.

"Well, it is winter now," said Bill, "so you will be wearing long sleeves when you go out, and when you are at fancy dinner parties and whatever it is you rich people do, you will be wearing a jacket so people won't be able to see. I think the rest of it is just trying to accustom yourself to the scar. Once you accept it, people will see that, and they won't keep making such a big fuss about it."

"And how do I get used to it?" asked Draco.

Bill crossed over to the discarded oxford and picked it up. "Don't wear this to breakfast."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but then gave a short nod. Bill pulled out his wand and banished the shirt to Draco's room. Draco turned back to his book.

"Breakfast is now," said Bill.

"I'm in the middle of this," said Draco.

"Two minutes," said Bill. "Then come in, alright?"

"Yeah," said Draco.

Bill walked back to the dining room where his mother had finished bringing out the food.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"He'll be in," said Bill sitting down. He poured himself a mug of coffee and then passed platters around the table, filling his own plate with grilled tomatoes, eggs, and toast. Four minutes later he sighed and pushed back his chair.

Draco was still in the study, still looking at whatever liquid was in the bottle and consulting the book.

"Draco, breakfast," he said.

"Yeah," said Draco, making no move to put down the book.

"Now," said Bill.

"Two minutes," said Draco.

"I gave you two minutes four minutes ago."

"I know, but this is rather important."

"One minute," said Bill.

Draco nodded.

"And I mean one, Draco. One."

"Yes," said Draco.

Bill rolled his eyes and went back to his breakfast. Three minutes later he sighed and started to get up while the rest of the table snickered at him.

"Do you want me to get him?" asked Ginny.

Bill paused. "Think you'll have better luck?"

She smiled. "I just might."

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I know, I don't deserve reviews for making you all wait and causing half of you to assume that something terrible (like a freak meteor landing on my house) happened. But, just because I don't deserve it, doesn't mean you won't give me one, right? Right? (inserting puppy dog eyes and a trembling lower lip).

Anyway (cough), yes, I will be updating Tuesday, this Tuesday. As long as a freak meteor doesn't land on my house. Cheers!