A/N: Thank you to mizzrazz72 for being the first to review! And also, to SerpensPrincess, simply for continuing to review every chapter. It made me start my next chapter earlier than I expected (also some of RL good news I'm celebrating!)

Important Note: Harry here tells Malfoy that he spent six years at school with him. This is true because of course Harry didn't have his seventh year.

Disclaimer: None of my work belongs to me, it is solely the property of the one and only J.K. Rowling and any other company which has the copyright of Harry Potter, including Warner Bros. Nothing here belongs to me; all the characters are J.K. Rowling'soriginally, though any new character not part of the Harry Potter series belongs to me.

Title: I stand for freedom

Author: hpjkrowling4ever

Chapter Seven

Harry rubbed at his eyes in frustration and wondered what he ought to do. Malfoy was still unconscious in his bed, but Ismay definitely was not. The little girl had woken up multiple times, falling asleep intermittently. Her rest was always fitful, and she was increasingly hysterical. Harry knew that the only thing which would calm her was Malfoy. He had tried taking her out of the ward, but that had been her most hysterical moment, so he had stayed in the ward so that she could still see her father.

Elliot had stayed in the room throughout the night as well, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, on the other side of Malfoy's bed, and offering advice to Harry. He had younger siblings, so he had suggestions on calming hysterical children, but even he admitted that the only thing that would help Ismay's mood was her father waking up. He also provided medical help, checking up on Malfoy every hour and applying salves when he needed to. After a worrying hour where Malfoy's body temperature had dropped dangerously low, Rhys started coming every hour as well, which meant that Harry's worries about Malfoy's physical health had diminished significantly. His body was looking much less broken and beaten up, but still frighteningly thin.

It was at around seven in the morning, after Rhys had just come in, that Malfoy stirred. Harry and Elliot immediately sat up in their chairs, watching Malfoy's body anxiously. Ismay had worn herself out crying and was asleep on Harry's lap. Malfoy groaned and tried to move but was stopped by the thick blankets wrapped tightly around him. His eyes flew open and he struggled violently, trying to sit up. Harry had the sudden thought that Malfoy probably despised the thought of feeling trapped. Elliot seemed to have had the same thought, because he rose out of his seat and approached Malfoy very slowly, his hands held up beside him.

"Mr. Malfoy, my name is Elliot. I'm here to help you. Would you like me to loosen your blankets?" he asked, staying a long distance away from Malfoy's bed, and in his line of sight. Malfoy was looking increasingly desperate to free himself, so he nodded frantically. Elliot walked to Malfoy's bedside and started untucking the blankets. Every time his hands brushed against Malfoy's body, he flinched instinctively. Harry was surprised to feel tears pricking at his eyes on seeing the way his school nemesis had been affected. Once Malfoy was free, Elliot backed away quickly, still keeping his hands raised up high. Malfoy watched him balefully from the bed, before coughing several times.

"Ismay?" he asked, looking around. Almost as soon as he spoke, his eyes rested on Harry, holding Ismay. Malfoy's eyes glowed bright silver, which prompted Harry to stand up and approach the bed. He carefully put Ismay down beside her father and stepped back as well. Both he and Elliot watched as Malfoy ran his hands over Ismay, checking his daughter for injuries in what were clearly practiced movements. Harry caught Elliot's eyes across the bed and was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes as well.

"Where am I?" Malfoy asked. His voice was dry and rough, so unlike what Harry remembered.

"A refuge for magical creatures, Mr. Malfoy," Elliot answered, his voice smooth. Malfoy turned his head to look at him, but Harry noticed how he kept Ismay shielded at all times from both of them and though he was looking at Elliot, he was obviously still very aware of Harry on his other side.

"You found me, then," Malfoy stated. Harry gave a small cough and Malfoy's head spun around to look at him.

"Would you prefer it if I went to your other side, so you could keep an eye on both of us at the same time?" Harry asked, his mind flashing back to Dudley's Harry-hunting and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, and how he liked to make sure that he could see all his attackers at one time. Harry could see Malfoy's throat working, and how much it cost him to then nod sharply. Harry slowly made his way around and stood next to Elliot. Both of them kept their hands clasped in front of them, so that Malfoy was able to see them.

"May I ask what you remember, Mr. Malfoy?" Elliot asked politely.

"Who are you?" Malfoy asked. He coughed again. "I know your name is Elliot, but what qualifies you to be here?" Though Malfoy spoke rudely, Harry could tell that he was a shadow of himself and as a result his rudeness only came across as exhaustion.

"I am also a fae, Mr. Malfoy. My father is the ambassador here. I also work here, caring for injured people. I was injured myself during the War, but as you can see, I am well again. We can leave if we are making you uncomfortable," Elliot said. Malfoy shook his head, to Harry's astonishment.

"I'd only wonder when you came back. Anyway, I will probably need you at some point." At that, his attention turned to Harry. Though his body was weak and emaciated, his eyes were as bright as ever. There was something reassuring about seeing that there was still some of the Malfoy Harry had been to school with there. "Potter."

"Malfoy."

"Thank you for looking after Ismay," he said. He looked down at his daughter, rubbing her back with a fond smile that Harry had never seen before on his face. "She…she means a lot to me."

"She's your daughter, Malfoy," Harry stated. "And she's lovely."

"She wasn't wanted," Malfoy said sharply. His hands went to Ismay's ears when he said that, making sure that she didn't hear his words, even though she was asleep.

"I know," Harry said, keeping his voice level. He reckoned that Malfoy wouldn't want his pity.

Ismay made a noise in Malfoy's lap, and his attention turned to her immediately, taking his hands away from her ears. He pulled her closer to him and leant back against his pillows, making sure that her torso was lying against his, her ear against his heart. It seemed to be a familiar position with them.

"Issy," he said quietly, his voice ever so soft in the quiet of the room. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene, and nor could Elliot.

The little girl whimpered and blinked sleepily. Suddenly, she seemed to realise that her daddy was the one she was lying against, and who had whispered her name. A blinding smile spread across her face, and she sat up in Malfoy's lap. She didn't make any sudden movements with her hands, though, keeping them unnaturally still by her side. A mannerism born from their captivity, Harry thought to himself.

"Daddy!" she cried. Malfoy smiled just as widely as her, and took her hands, wrapping them around his neck. At that, the girl let go completely, squeezing her dad for all she was worth. "You're better!" Elliot and Harry heard her say against Malfoy's neck.

"That's right, little one," Malfoy said, running his hands along her back. "You're such a brave girl, looking after your daddy," he said, kissing the side of her head.

This unfamiliar, tender Malfoy was one Harry was having an extremely hard time wrapping his head around. He remembered the angry, sullen, bigoted teenager from his school years, and tried to reconcile that Malfoy with this one, and with the fae he had met.

On the bed, Ismay twisted around on Malfoy's lap and turned to Harry and Elliot. She trusted Malfoy completely to keep her steady and to protect her in case he and Elliot were dangerous.

"They're good, Daddy," she declared. Malfoy kissed the top of her head, smiling. His eyes were hard as they looked at Harry and Elliot, though.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Harry held me, Daddy," she said. "You were sick."

"I'm happy you were safe. You know the rule," Malfoy said, turning Ismay's head towards his.

"I'm safe first," she declared, looking at Malfoy seriously. Harry's throat closed up, and his hand sought Elliot's involuntarily. Elliot looked down at their joined hands and squeezed, pulling Harry closer and putting his arm around his shoulders. They looked back to the bed to see Malfoy and Ismay looking at them.

"I don't want your pity," Malfoy said, sounding angry.

"Tough luck, Malfoy," Harry replied. "You've already got it."

A scowl appeared on Malfoy's face.

"Of course I had to be rescued by Potter," he hissed. Despite his anger, Harry could see some fear in Malfoy's eyes, but he chose to ignore it.

"Runs with the territory, Malfoy," Harry replied cheerfully, glad to see that Malfoy hadn't entirely lost his fire. "The Boy-Who-Lived, rescuing you all."

Malfoy snorted, rolling his eyes. Harry could feel Elliot looking at them both in consternation, and Ismay was looking confused and slightly anxious. This was important, though. Harry didn't know where this deep desire to see Malfoy's spark came from, but he knew that it was important for them both.

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter."

"Everyone else already does," Harry replied, smirking. Malfoy let out an unwilling laugh, before coughing violently. Ismay patted him on the back gently, and Malfoy rubbed her back thankfully as he recovered his breath.

"I need to get the manager, Mr. Malfoy," Elliot said. "Is that okay with you?" he asked. He unclasped his hand from Harry's but waited until Malfoy nodded before leaving. A hush fell in the room after the door closed. Malfoy broke it first.

"You can come nearer, Potter. I'm too tired to bite anymore," Malfoy admitted. Harry didn't think he was imagining the apprehension in Malfoy's eyes. He felt the same.

Harry hesitated for a moment before approaching. He stopped when he was standing right next to the bed.

"I did as you asked," Malfoy said. Ismay leant back against her father and curled up, closing her eyes. Malfoy's hand held Ismay's face securely, and she was soon breathing evenly, worn out from her fretful night. Harry's eyes went to her face and he swallowed.

"I know you did, Malfoy."

"I'm no Angel," Malfoy whispered, looking at Harry significantly, and Harry knew that he hadn't imagined the double meaning to his words.

"No, you're not. But you're not Malfoy any longer," Harry said. His eyes went to Malfoy's. He remembered how Angel had been almost unable to hold his gaze, but Malfoy was.

"No, you're probably right. I never imagined myself in this situation."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked. "I'll respect your wishes if you don't."

"I will, at some point. I went through a lot, Potter." Malfoy's eyes skittered to Ismay. "It'll take time."

Harry smiled gently. He didn't think that this was what he expected when he had walked into the refuge, but he didn't think he was too put out.

"You can have all the time you want," Harry replied. "I think that you should talk to Elliot's father, and Elliot. Rhys, the manager here, is an Empath, and he'll be able to offer help as well. What do you want me to do?" Harry asked.

Malfoy looked slightly overwhelmed by the choice, but there was something he wanted – Harry could tell by the way Malfoy's hands were twisting in his lap.

"Can you – I mean, would you mind – if it's not any trouble –" Malfoy took a deep breath, and Harry stayed quiet. "My mother. She's – I want to see her." He rubbed his face. "I have –" he looked at Harry for a long moment.

"I won't make fun of you, Malfoy. I'll do it for stuff you legitimately need to be called on, but right here, right now, I'm here to listen," Harry said, and Malfoy nodded.

"I have trouble requesting things from people," Malfoy looked at Ismay. Harry could tell that as much as Ismay needed him, Malfoy needed Ismay as well. "Unless it's for Ismay. But if – when – I look like I want to ask for something, just give me a moment."

"I can do that. Where can I find your mother?" Harry asked gently. He knew she was in France, but he needed specifics.

"France. Do you – do you have a piece of paper? I need to write it, it's a family property." Malfoy asked. Harry rummaged around in his pockets and found a scrap piece of paper. He leant across to Malfoy's bedside table and picked up the pen Rhys and Elliot had been using to write down their observations during the night. Malfoy nodded and wrote down an address, then handed it to Harry, who put it in his pocket. He let out a breath after he had written it down and lifted his hand which wasn't cradling Ismay to the bridge of his nose to ward off tears. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," Harry said, and was surprised when Malfoy gave a barely-there flinch. "Malfoy?"

"I'm sorry I – I – orders," he ground out, and Harry could have hit himself over the head. Of course he wouldn't react well to orders.

"I'm sorry as well." Harry gave a rueful smile and chuckled. Malfoy looked up then and frowned. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm just so happy you've turned, Malfoy."

"You are?" Malfoy looked at Harry in surprise.

"If I'd got any more attached to your fae form, I would've properly bonded with you. Not that I don't want to," Harry rushed to reassure the now ashen-looking Malfoy. "I do, but I want to do it knowing your human side, Malfoy. We spent six years at school together, but I barely know who you are, and more importantly, I need to learn what makes you work, especially after your imprisonment. I need to connect with Ismay, because she's wonderful and I haven't had nearly enough time with her. Malfoy, we've got so much to learn about each other. I'm not denying that we've got a bond, but that shouldn't define us."

Malfoy looked overwhelmed again, and Harry could see tears in his eyes. Harry coughed in embarrassment before taking a deep breath and extending his hand.

"Hi. My name's Harry Potter, and I don't think we got off to the right start."

A brilliant smile took over Malfoy's face and Harry was disarmed by the beauty of it.

"My name's Draco Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

They shook hands.

Harry didn't waste a moment after leaving the refuge. He went to the Ministry and requested permission to take a Portkey to the south of France, where Narcissa Malfoy had hidden herself. The Ministry, of course, fell over themselves to grant Harry the Portkey and a return one to be activated by him whenever he needed to. Within seconds, he had landed in a field right in the middle of nowhere.

"An auspicious start, I'm sure," Harry said to himself, turning around on the spot to try to get his bearings. He took the address Malfoy had written down, murmured the Point Me spell and said the address out loud. He barely had to walk five steps before the air shimmered in front of him and a simply massive chateau appeared out of nowhere. Harry jumped back in shock, and the chateau disappeared. Confused, Harry stepped forwards again and the chateau reappeared.

"Very clever charms," he murmured, cancelling the Point Me spell and putting the address back in his pocket. He held his wand aloft, all his senses straining for any sound. He made it to the ornate front door safely and was about to lift his hand to knock before the door opened by itself. He would have yelled the first spell he knew except that he was suddenly faced with Narcissa Malfoy, who was pointing a wand at him.

"Mrs. Malfoy," he said, lowering his wand. She lowered hers.

"Mr. Potter."

They both looked long and hard at each other, remembering their encounter in the Forbidden Forest. Harry wondered how the family he thought had reunited and were safe at the end of the War had ended up so splintered.

"Your son sent me," Harry decided to announce, feeling like straightforward honesty was the best policy here. Mrs. Malfoy gasped and swayed on the spot, prompting Harry to grab her to steady her.

"He's safe? You rescued him? Oh, dear Merlin, thank you," Mrs. Malfoy looked deathly pale, but the relief on her face was so strong that Harry could almost feel it himself. She straightened and recovered herself, shooing Harry's hands away from her. "Please come in, Mr. Potter. Please, tell me how you found him."

She ushered Harry inside. He barely had time to admire the absolutely stunning rooms he was led through until Mrs. Malfoy stopped inside a smaller, less austere room. A tea tray had already been laid out, making Harry suspect that there were house elves around the place. He put himself on guard; he knew just how dangerous house elves could be, and he thought that Mrs. Malfoy was probably a mistress who was a great deal more respected by them than Mr. Malfoy.

Once they were sitting down and Mrs. Malfoy had put some tea in front of him, he took a few sips before telling her what he knew.

"Your son was found in Malfoy Manor, two years after the end of the War. He had gone through a fae inheritance, and when he was found, he was fully transformed and protecting his two-year-old daughter. For the past two years, he's been kept at a refuge for both human witches and wizards and magical creatures. I met him quite recently and formed a bond with him, which allowed me to reach him enough for him to transform back into his human shape. He's just woken up and he asked me to come and tell you that he wanted to see you."

Mrs. Malfoy's eyes were shining with tears when Harry finished, and her hand was lifted to her mouth in shock. She lowered her hand after a few moments and without looking at Harry, she started speaking.

"We'd been captives in Malfoy Manor throughout the whole of the War, slaves to the Dark Lord's whims. Nowhere was safe for us. It got worse after you and your friends helped our prisoners escape. After the Battle of Hogwarts, we thought it would all be over, but Lucius foolishly allowed some of the more dangerous Death Eaters sanctuary at Malfoy Manor, knowing that as an old family home, he could hide them from investigating Aurors. Then, a month after the end of the War, Draco turned seventeen and reached his inheritance. Lucius and I both have fae blood, but we thought it too diluted to risk it," Mrs. Malfoy swallowed heavily. "It was horrific. It was punishment for my treachery of the Dark Lord, and we couldn't say anything because we had been sworn to secrecy. I can't – I can't tell you or describe to you what they did to Draco, but they beat him and tortured him and abused him so badly that after two months I thought that there would be nothing left of my son there. The trials were taking such a long time that I thought he would be dead before the end of the year. Lucius managed to delay his trial. Two years -" Mrs. Malfoy looked angry for a fleeting moment. "He still had friends in the Ministry. However, because of your testimony, mine was hurried, which resulted in my exile here. I – I thought that Draco was dead. You say he has a daughter?"

Harry nodded, feeling numb.

"Yes. She's called Ismay."

"Ismay. It's a very appropriate name. The Black family tradition is to name their children after stars or constellations. I'm glad that Draco named her something else. Ismay means 'esteemed, beloved', of French origin, you know?" Harry shook his head, knowing that she needed to process the immense shock he had given her, and was likely doing this by saying everything which came to mind. "I don't – I don't know which of the Death Eaters –" she cut herself off.

"No, I don't think anyone but Draco knows. He hasn't said anything yet, but it's obvious that he adores Ismay," Harry said. "She's a gorgeous four-year-old, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Mr. Potter, please –" Harry was astounded when Mrs. Malfoy suddenly fell to her knees before him. "Please, Mr. Potter. I need to see my son. I need to touch him. I need to know he's well. Please, Mr. Potter."

"Mrs. Malfoy –" Harry took her hands and helped her up. "You've no need to go to your knees."

"There are spells keeping me here, on Malfoy land, Mr. Potter. I need –" she took a deep, steadying breath. Harry tightened his grip on her hands, stabilising her.

"I know, Mrs. Malfoy, I know."

"Mr. Potter, I beg of you, he's my son." Mrs. Malfoy looked about ready to go to her knees again, and he saw a lone tear fall down her face. Harry was at a complete loss and wished that Hermione was there. Pureblood women were known for being stoic, and faced with this much emotion he was utterly overwhelmed.

"I will do my best, I promise you, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry swore. There was nothing else he could say. "I'll talk to as many people as I need to," Harry said, thinking of Elliot's father.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Malfoy closed her eyes and then opened them again. "But I think you might need additional support. There aren't many friends of the Malfoys in the Ministry anymore."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in trepidation.

"Your testimony at my trial was not enough repayment for the Life Debt between us. I saved you from certain death, you saved me from imprisonment in Azkaban. The trade-off is not equal. I will consider it paid in full once you get me permission to see my son."

Harry wavered on the spot, feeling shaky. He felt the Life Debt snap into place. He'd been aware of it at her trial, but since he had mentioned her help in the Forest willingly before her trial, and willingly testified at her trial, he supposed that the Life Debt hadn't been adequately fulfilled because he hadn't put himself at risk enough. Mrs. Malfoy would have been killed by Lord Voldemort if her duplicity had been discovered before it was too late for Lord Voldemort to do anything. She had obviously been drowning in guilt for helping Harry as much as she had, and the cost it had had on her son.

"You didn't need to do that, Mrs. Malfoy. I would have done it anyway," he said. She gave him a half-smile.

"I know, Mr. Potter. But I think that you want that Life Debt gone, for reasons that I think have something to do with my son and why he trusted you with this address, and it gives you more ground to stand on with the Ministry."

Harry chuckled despite himself. There was something so cunning about Mrs. Malfoy's reasoning.

"I'll do my best," Harry said, turning away.

Mrs. Malfoy couldn't let him have the last word.

"You always do, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled and shook his head ruefully. He hated dealing with Slytherins; he always felt so wrong-footed.

A/N: Until next time!