Harry stared at the writing on the torn parchment before him…Hermione would understand. She had always been brilliant; surely she'd understand his message. He took the paper and flipped it over. The page had come from one of Hyperion's potions book. His son wouldn't be happy when he realized he was missing a chunk of the information about conception potions, but to be honest, the boy was far too young to know about those sort of things anyways. And Hermione might catch the subtle hint there, too, if he was lucky.
He folded it into the size of a knut—easier to pass it discreetly. The knot in his stomach clenched tighter. This was going to be an awful day, even if everything went smoothly. He buried the paper deep into his trouser pocket and grimaced as he surveyed himself in the mirror. The trousers he wore were meant to be form fitting but Harry felt too exposed and self-conscious in them. His black button down was tucked into the trousers and was buttoned just to his chest in order to reveal a few bite marks on his throat left behind from the Dark Lord's last visit.
At least he was wearing clothes. Voldemort could've brought him about in his shorts to display the bruises on his thighs, as well…or worse, he could be stark-naked.
He was donning the thin hooded cloak Draco had laid on the bed for him when the blonde came back into the room.
"The Dark Lord will be here in twenty minutes. Are you ready for this?" Draco asked, looking at Harry apprehensively. He reached over to fix Harry's braid. Harry smiled at him uneasily.
"I don't think there's any way to be ready for this. But I'm dressed, at least. Let's go; I want to say goodbye to Hyperion before HE gets here…"
…
"How's your wittle ickle baby, Potter? He wasn't much fun last week. Didn't want to pway with me." Harry's fist clenched tightly at his side, determined to not retaliate against Bellatrix's taunting.
"Play nice, Bella," the Dark Lord whispered, his voice darkly amused. They entered through the wards of Hogwarts: Voldemort in front with Rudolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange on his flanks, Lucius and Draco behind them on either side of Harry.
Two figures met them as they passed through the gates. Harry understood them to be the Carrow's, Amycus and Alecto.
Harry's heart was in his throat as they were led into Hogwarts; the place that he had once called his home. Not much had changed since he'd left school five years ago, but Harry could literally feel the coldness, the desolation of a previously peaceful place. Hogwarts no longer held sanctuary for him.
Nevertheless, it was the first time he had been out of the manor in years, and the slightest taste of freedom was potent. He couldn't falter now, though; he had a mission to complete. The doors to the Great Hall sprung open and Harry kept his hood up and head bowed as they walked in. His hands shook and he clasped them tightly behind himself as they strode up towards the head table. His peripheral vision allowed him to see swarms of knelt figures clad in Slytherin-themed robes: some in black, others in silver, and the rest in green. He lowered his face more so they couldn't see him.
The anxiety was growing alarmingly within his body. He should've never asked Snape to suggest this. This was too much—he wasn't ready!
Voldemort reached the pulpit where Dumbledore had stood all those years ago when he would make his start-of-term and end-of-term speeches. Harry knelt with the rest of their company.
"How good it is, to see all of these familiar faces for another Summer," Voldemort said in a cold voice that was laced with airs of superiority. He was loving this. "It pleases me to hear from our valued staff and esteemed Headmaster Snape, that the acclimatizing here at Hogwarts has been effective thus far…so pleased, in fact, that I have a surprise for you all; a little treat if you will, and a stunning testament to my rule."
Harrys heart was plummeting and he could almost taste the restlessness and confusion that was wafting through the Hall on his tongue. He wasn't ready.
Focus, Harry, focus. Do it for Hyperion.
"You may all rise." Harry rose to his feet unsteadily and he felt Draco reach out briefly to place a stabilizing hand on his elbow. "Come forward…"
Harry hadn't registered that the command had been directed towards him immediately. It wasn't until Lucius pressed him forward firmly that he made his way to the two steps of the dais, where the head table sat and stepped up obediently. He kept his head lowered submissively. His palms were sweating where they were clutched behind his back. Gracefully, Voldemort slid over to him and pressed a frigid hand under Harry's chin, lifting it slightly to look at him.
Then, he was turned violently towards the head table, to face the Hogwarts staff. The rest of the crowd was behind him, silent and confused over the proceedings, his back unrecognizable to them. He saw Snape first, who sat in the largest chair, then his eyes made their way down the table miserably, begging them silently not to hate him. McGonagall's eyes widened and her hand rose to her mouth looking like she had seen a ghost as she gasped. She probably thought she had… Flitwick jumped in his seat and let out a squeak—Sprout had a similar reaction to McGonagall's. Slughorn let out an appalled "Oh!" and on it went, Harry's old teachers and the few Death Eater's that held positions on the staff meeting his eyes, the former with shock, the latter with looks of cruel glee.
It lasted maybe a minute before the Dark Lord yanked his hood down. His overheated body made the air feel freezing on his face and he was again yanked around to face the majority, now. The reactions were louder—cries of astonishment, some screams of his name—sobs of disbelief—
Voldemort had him by his plaited hair and was forcing him onto his knees once more. Harry couldn't meet their eyes, his face warm with shame and tears threatening to break free as he willingly submitted to the Dark Lord.
December 24th, 1998
"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" Narcissa asked the boy as he doubled over in his seat and let out a pained groan. The black head of hair shook wildly in negation, unable to speak momentarily.
"He's been complaining that his stomach hurt all day," Draco added, setting down his fork and knife with a furrowed brow. "He hasn't been like this though."
Harry rocked back and forth trying to relieve the shooting pain in his body, his arms wrapped tightly around his rounded belly. "It keeps getting worse and worse, I think I need Snape—something's got to be wrong!" Harry gasped out. Narcissa stood up quickly at his words and Lucius followed her actions.
"Lucius, would you floo Severus, please? Inform him that Mr. Potter is in labor." Lucius did a double take before striding out of the room without further prodding.
"Labor?" Draco repeated, kneeling down by Harry's chair to keep him upright. Narcissa came over to them and pressed a gentle hand to the brunette's back, rubbing it firmly.
"Harry, you need to take deep breaths. Draco, when your father comes back, help get him upstairs. I'm going to go get the medical room ready." With that, the Malfoy matriarch glided out of the room with a calm determination.
"Breathe? How…the fuck can I breathe through this?" Harry moaned out, "it's literally taking my breath away." Draco rubbed his back comfortingly.
"If you can open your gab to complain, you can certainly use it to breathe," Draco snorted unhelpfully; "You can do this, Harry," he added more kindly.
Lucius came back in the dining room, then, looking apprehensive. "Severus will be here shortly. Where's your mother?" he asked Draco then eyed Harry cautiously as he let out another groan.
Draco stood up and grasped Harry's arm tightly. "She's getting the room ready; can you help me get him upstairs, Father?"
Together the two blonde men guided a panting Harry up the stairs. "Who the fuck puts the medical room on the second floor. Stupid arses, stupid bloody fucking—"
"Is the vulgarity really necessary, Potter?" Lucius snapped, growing annoyed. Seriously, was the boy raised by animals? He was aware the Slytherins were known for hurling obscenities. They use to make games of it in his day. But in the presence of adults they knew to show more respect than this. Even if Draco sometimes needed a gentle reminder.
"Are you really… going to start on me about my swearing because…this isn't the time. Fuck!" Harry panted. Lucius glowered.
Draco tried not to smirk.
…
"I don't want you cutting me open!" Harry told Snape, holding himself protectively. Snape heaved a sigh and put his hands on his hips exasperatedly.
"If I don't perform a cesarean, you'll both die, Potter. The infant has nowhere to come out, in case you've forgotten your personal anatomy," Snape griped. "With a female, this is easier. A female can deliver vaginally or a cesarean can be performed. Some cases are scheduled and the baby can be removed even before labor begins. With a male it's a bit trickier. Because the womb is only temporary, the fetus is more vulnerable inside it. We cannot remove the infant until labor begins—a sure sign that it is ready to be born. It's not relevant to your situation, Potter, but if this was a premature labor, then survival rate is much lower. Much can go wrong in male pregnancy, perhaps because it goes against the laws of nature; nevertheless, we must proceed with great care."
He forced Harry by the shoulders to lay back and he pushed the partition curtain over his chest. When the boy started tearing up, Snape sighed again. "Potter, it'll be quick, easy, and for the most part, painless. Just a lot of pressure. Trust me." Harry shuddered out a long breath and nodded weakly. Snape had proven to himself to Harry. He now understood why Dumbledore had put his faith into him. Severus Snape was a snarky bastard, biased and unpleasant at times—much of the time, but he could be trusted. Especially with his baby.
Snape was right: there was a lot of pressure, and although not much time had passed, it felt like an eternity of uncertainty to Harry.
…And then Snape was untying the knot in Harry's gown with one hand and lowering it just enough to place this wrinkled mass of reddened flesh and dark hair onto his chest.
Harry clutched the little body with shaking hands, unbelieving, and Snape was standing by him with a hand supporting the baby.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter, it appears that you have a son. I need to heal you; do you have a good hold on him?" Harry nodded, holding the baby tighter to his bared chest.
"It's a boy, he's a boy," Harry murmured looking at his son—his son. "Don't cry, I've got you…" Harry whispered, a thumb stroking a little cheek as the baby wailed in a dry cry. "I've got you." He repeated gently, determined.
His son.
…
It was three in the morning and as tired as Harry was, he couldn't sleep. So he sat perched vigilantly, looking at the little baby swaddled snuggly in the basinet by his bed as he slept.
It was three in the morning when Harry made his choice. He grabbed the needled he had swiped from the medical room when Snape wasn't looking. Dropping to his knees in front of the bedroom door and began to pick at the lock. It was a skill he had learn from years spent in his cupboard, when he'd use a pin stolen from Aunt Petunia's sewing kit to escape his confinement quietly in order to sneak a slice of cheese or bread, or a sip of milk from the kitchen in the dead of night. He had never been caught before.
He felt the lock give way eventually and his heart leapt. He stuck the needle into the lapel of his robe for safe keeping. He lifted his son up and cradled him in his arms securely as he slipped silently out of the room and tip-toed down the stairs.
The Malfoys were all asleep in their beds, Harry noted, feeling relieved. The manor was quiet in the dead of the night—or morning? He reached the ground floor and paused, heart rapidly beating a tattoo in his chest. There was the floo—it would be quicker and easier through it, but the connected networks were limited to only a couple places—the only one he was aware of was the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. He didn't think Snape would be very welcoming to harboring a fugitive.
So the only way was through the front door and out into the night. He tugged the blankets tighter around the sleeping baby and then draped his robes over the both of them to protect from the winter cold. He knew it had yet to start snowing much, but the air was nippy and his son was too small to be unprotected from the cold. He was thankful for the warming charms on the receiving blanket Snape casted earlier.
He pulled out the needle from where it was pinned and began working on the second lock. It was a strange thing, being locked inside a house, Harry decided as he picked, usually it was the other way around. But this wasn't a home. It was a cage really, a prison. This lock was a little bit more time consuming but eventually it too, gave way. Harry let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. If it had always been this easy, he should've done this months ago! He grasped the door handle in his sweaty had and slowly eased the door open to face the outside world.
The alarm that sounded was deafening and Harry stumbled from the door frantically. He should've known there were warded alarms—this was all going too easily. Nothing was every this easy for him! The baby let out startled shrieks as Harry took off down the steps instinctually. He had to run and hide. He could hide!
He couldn't hide. He was wandless and helpless and his cesarean scar was aching and it was cold outside. Too cold to be without shelter for hours…or days. This was all going very, very wrong.
"Potter! Stop!" Arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him back into the foyer furiously. Harry clutched the screaming infant to his body defensively. "What in the name of Hades do you think you're doing, you idiot boy!" Lucius hissed in his ear. Harry barely heard him with the alarm sounding out so loudly. "Do you have a death wish?!"
The alarm stopped.
"Well, well, well…what is this?" Came a cold, high voice.
"Quiet the child, let me do the talking," Lucius hissed in his ear before turning to the Dark Lord. "My Lord—"
"It looks, Lucius, as if the boy was trying to escape his nice home here…" Voldemort stated ominously, cutting over the blonde. "Is that right, Harry?" Harry clenched his eyes tightly to keep his tears from falling. He clutched the warm bundle, only little whimpers coming from the infant now.
"Let him go, Lucius…" The Dark Lord approached them closer now, stopping just in front of Harry. "I was informed the child was born. Show me my son, Harry…" he whispered softly. He didn't wait for Harry to move his cloak away. He reached a pale hand up and pushed it aside to reveal the infant in Harry's trembling arms. "Hmm, have you decided on a name for him?"
Harry blinked in confusion and shook his head slightly. Voldemort's red eyes gazed at him with a mysterious gleam to them. Then the mouth quirked slightly into a peculiar smile.
"Name him, Harry."
Harry swallowed hard, and his mouth open and closed like he didn't know quite how to form words. He felt winded.
"Name him!" the weird smile was gone and Voldemort glared at him impatiently. Harry shook.
"I—I don't know—" Voldemort drew his wand and aimed it at the baby's tiny forehead threateningly. Harry let out a sob and took a small step back.
"Now!" Voldemort barked at him.
"I—James, then, James!" Harry cried out.
"After his Grandfather? How nice." Harry's shoulders were tense. "It's late, Harry, you should be getting some sleep." That was it? "But before I go…" of course not. Voldemort smiled at him cruelly then and raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra."
"NO!"
Harry dropped to the ground like someone cut the invisible strings holding him.
"Happy Christmas, Harry."
…
"Potter, you have to let go."
"…"
"Potter, listen to me: there is nothing you can do for him, you have to let go."
"…"
Snape looked at Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco's stricken faces, searching for anyone to step forward and assist him.
"He's gone into shock. Draco? Perhaps you can get through to him."
Draco stepped forward with shaking legs and inched his way cautiously to where Harry collapsed onto the floor.
"Potter—Harry?" Draco whispered, bending on one knee to get more on Harry's level. He didn't know how to get through to Harry. What the hell could Draco say to make him feel better? The Dark Lord just killed his baby. Draco wanted to throw up. "It's—it's Draco…Harry, can you let go of the baby for me?" Harry's eyes rose quickly to Draco's face. He looked wild.
"He's mine!" Harry croaked out.
Draco nodded soothingly, "Yes, he is yours Harry…but he's—gone Harry. Can you let go of him for a minute so Severus can take a look at you? Your incision reopened and it's bleeding everywhere."
Harry nodded shortly and slowly eased his grip on the unmoving bundle in his arms. Draco gently took it from the brunette and stood back up.
The action drew him out of his stupor and all at once a damn broke in Harry. He let out a loud sob and scrambled to his feet reaching for the still infant. "No, no! Give him back, he isn't gone!" He screamed. Severus and Lucius swept in to hold him back as he went to tackle Draco to the ground. The youngest blonde scrambled towards his mother and shoved the baby into her arms. He watched as his father and Severus pulled him out of the room, Harry screaming hysterically the whole while. Draco ran into the down stairs powder room and promptly threw up.
…
"You're going to do that now?" Lucius questioned, looking grim. He looked somberly at the boy passed out on the examine table and then at the needle in Severus's hand.
The man nodded, his dark hair hung limp around his pale face. "The Dark Lord's orders. He'll be back on New Year's day to impregnate the boy. Stupid, stupid, boy…" He injected the potion into Potter's abdomen, his face grave as said boy let out a small whimper in his sleep.
"I can't believe he tried to escape." Lucius stated.
"I can," Severus muttered. "Potter has always acted irrational and has a hero complex on top of that. The Dark Lord knows this. That is why he came tumbling into the Department of Ministries two years ago. That is why he tried to escape tonight. He wanted to save his child."
"Any parent would."
Severus raised an eyebrow at the older man. "Feeling compassion for your young charge, Lucius?"
"Considering what has transpired tonight, can you blame me, old friend?"
"The Dark Lord tried to kill Potter as an infant. Did that not matter, then?
"Of course it mattered. I don't condone children being murdered…but I was young. And impressionable."
"Weren't we all…" Severus acknowledged. "It seems you sympathize with him, Lucius."
Lucius paused momentarily, absorbing the Potion Master's words. "It would seem that you sympathize with the boy, too, Severus," he answered unwaveringly.
July 21st, 2003 (continued)
"Harry! Oh, Merlin, he's alive!"
"Harry Potter!"
"He's been alive this whole time?"
"Harry!"
"Yes…Harry Potter lives…" The Dark Lord spoke softly but it was enough to silence the room completely. "Serving me for the past four years, submitting to my command entirely—isn't that right, Harry?" Harry stared at the floor and forced a quick nod as Voldemort's hands tightened in his hair warningly. At the gesture, he continued, "Let it NEVER be said that the Dark Lord is not merciful…and let it never be uttered that the Dark Lord can be defeated by a filthy half-blooded whore." He propelled Harry forward then, so he had to catch himself onto his hands, the grip on his hair relinquished as he did.
"Our Staff Meeting will now commence in the staff room. Bellatrix, Rudolphus: stay and babysit the whore." Harry's eyes clenched tightly—he hadn't anticipated that bitch being in the room. He should've known the two Malfoy men weren't held in high enough esteem in Voldemort's eyes to look after him alone.
There was a scraping of chairs as the teachers stood warily, following the Dark Lord and Snape into the room in the back of the Hall. The door closed and Harry was left to face the crowd. The silence was deafening until Bellatrix started cackling shrilly. She practically skipped over to Harry and yanked him up by his arm savagely. "Ickle baby, Potter, don't you want to say 'hi'?" Harry refused to take the bait and then, an insane idea struck him. Had he not been so consumed with passing on his note, had he been thinking logically, he would've never done it—
He ripped his arm from her grasp, causing her crazy eyes to narrow dangerously. "Now don't be so naughty, little Potter, you don't want the Master to punish you, do you? …Or maybe you like it, slag?" She hissed cruelly.
She was making this too easy, though. He had spent too long having to ignore Bellatrix's snide comments for the sake of not angering Voldemort. He had spent too long playing the obedient slave, the butt of the joke. Harry saw red. His eyes rose to meet hers challengingly and her sneer turned slightly into an expression of puzzlement.
He spat in her face.
The moments following happened in the blink of an eye.
Bellatrix screamed and him slapped once, so hard his body twisted and fell to the ground; his hand slipped into his pocket unnoticeably as he scrambled to his feet once more. Bellatrix had her wand in her hand this time, shooting a hex his way before Lucius wrenched her arm down yelling, "You are not to harm him, he is the Dark Lord's to deal with, Bella!" The hex had done its' job and sent Harry flying into the mass of green, black, and silver robes. Hands grabbed him to steady him and he looked into the stricken face of Neville Longbottom. He wasn't Hermione or Ron but he could be trusted, Harry knew it.
"Harry, what's going—" Neville's gasping inquiry was cut off as the staff room doors swung open in a loud bang and Harry shoved the note into the taller boy's robes, his eyes in a silent, meaningful plead, before he slumped back to kneel on the floor, his head pointed down to the stone.
"What…is the meaning of all this…commotion?" came the harsh, icy whisper that silenced the room instantly.
"My Lord," Bellatrix gasped out, her chest heaving madly. She pointed an accusing finger Harry's direction, "that filthy half-blood disobeys you! Please Master, let me show him what happens when—"
"Silence, Bella…" she lowered her head quickly as he walked by her; her body was radiating fury, the desire to curse Harry tangible in the Hall.
Harry's heart hammered painfully as Voldemort glided towards him, each step emitting a daunting click in the otherwise noiseless room.
"Is this true, Harry?" he questioned softly. He stroked Harry's head gently, mockingly. "Answer me."
Harry kept his eyes lowered. He didn't dare refute Bellatrix's words. "Forgive me, Master." Harry's murmur caught in his throat slightly. This was all a mistake. Voldemort seized his hair, his long nails biting into his scalp, and Harry was yanked upwards. Harry's hand shot up automatically to the Dark Lord's wrist, clutching it in order to relieve some of the pressure caused.
"I thought I broke that little obedient streak three years ago, Harry," his red eyes gleamed malevolently as he shook him punishingly by the hair. Harry repressed a pained whimper. "Pity. Severus…looks like I'll be needing another potion from you." Harry's blood ran cold and he let out a sob, grasping Voldemort's arm holding him tighter.
"No, please! Please! I'll do anything, please no, no…" he was begging, crying miserably and he no longer cared of the audience. He didn't need his pride or his dignity, not when his son's life was on the line! The tears poured down his face in rivulets like someone dumped a bucket of water over his head. "I'll do whatever you asssk of me, punisssh me, make me bleed, pleassse don't hurt him, pleassse, I'm begging you, My Lord, punisssh me, instead!" He added desperately in Parseltongue. His heart was breaking in a way all too familiar; his anguish unbearable. He couldn't do it. He couldn't lose his little boy. He'd sooner die before he let it happen.
Voldemort's cruel eyes surveyed him, relishing in his tears and begging. The grip eased slightly after a moment, finally coming to a decision. "BELLATRIX, COME." The witch all but ran over, bowing in deeply. "You may have your retribution. I suppose twenty lashes will suffice." Bellatrix's eyes widened like a kid on Christmas, and she nodded fervently, thanking her beloved Master with a kiss to the hem of his robe.
…
Harry was knelt before the Dark Lord, who now sat in an ornate throne in front of the room. His shirt and cloak were removed and his bare skin felt cool in the air as Bellatrix moved slowly behind him, brandishing the whip menacingly. Voldemort reached down to stroke his hair as another lash cut into Harry's back, this time he couldn't help the cry he let out, muffled only slightly by the man's white robes. His back was bleeding heavily by the time she finished, and Voldemort gestured for Draco to collect him from the floor.
"I want him cleaned up and treated immediately… I'll be back tonight to continue your punishment, Harry. Be gracious I'm allowing the boy to live another day," he added to Harry complacently "…the Dark Lord will never be so merciful again."
Harry nodded tiredly, feeling drained from his crying. The pain in his back was searing but Harry's relief was stronger. He pressed a kiss to the robes, and murmured a low "Thank you, for your mercy, my Lord." He was heaved up roughly to his feet after a moment and dragged out of the Hall by a furious Draco and Lucius. As he was escorted out his eyes met Neville's hazel ones fleetingly. Harry swallowed hard; it had all backfired on him but he got his message through. The Quaffle was on their side of the field, now.
…
"Draco…Draco, please." The blonde brushed him off once more, as he chained Harry to the bed in nothing but the usual thin robe. The sky was dark now—Voldemort was due to arrive soon. He hadn't been allowed to see Hyperion upon his arrival back to their hidden manor, and Harry didn't think he could face his son's perfect little cherub face anyways. Not after Harry had so fucking foolishly put him at risk. Some father he was.
"Draco, please, you have to understand," Harry muttered, his voice weak and scratchy in his throat. Draco wheeled around at him, and for the first time in years, his eyes held nothing but loathing for Harry. It was like they were in school all over again. There was no look of reluctant fondness that he usually received in private…there wasn't even a sneer...just, just hatred.
Merlin, it hurt. He deserved it, he knew. But it hurt all the same.
"Understand?" Draco said, voice barely containing his fury, "How the fuck do I have to understand this? You broke your promise, Potter." The lump in Harry's throat was as big as a snitch. He watched as Draco walked to the door to leave, unable to run after him and plead for him to understand he was trying to save them all.
When Draco turned back to him face him again, his grey eyes had turned glassy. "Who the fuck do you think you are? How could you put Hyperion at risk? Doesn't he mean anything?!"
"Of course he does!" Harry cried, tears breaking free for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. God, how many tears could a body produce? "He means everything to me! I love him, he's everything…he's my son, I love him so much…" He wept, brokenly. His nose was running down with his tears and wiped his face on the pillow below him dolefully.
"He means everything to me too, Harry!" Draco snapped and his hands shook so badly that he had to clench them at his sides to ground himself. "You promised me you'd never do anything to put him at risk, Harry—you gave me your word. And apparently that means nothing to you, but it does to me. How could you willingly put our son at risk?"
Draco didn't wait for an answer before he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.
December 29th, 1998
His son's eyes had been dark. Harry had thought most babies were born with blue eyes. Not his son, though. They were a dark brow with flecks of red, when Harry had got to see them briefly. They didn't scare him. The baby didn't look menacing…the baby looked like, well, a baby. An innocent baby. And if Harry had had the chance to love him, maybe he could've been...good. Regardless of his parentage.
Harry swallowed thickly, as he read the potions book. He had spent the past four days mostly in seclusion. Aside from grooming and meal times he sought no one else's company. Not even Draco's.
He stared blankly at the Transfiguration book in his lap, reading words but not really taking any of it in. Draco's kisses seemed like ages ago. When his son was still safe inside his belly and not dead and buried God-knows-where. He brushed a stray tear away and turned the page bitterly. He paused as he stared at the next page.
'Ritualistic Spells to Alter Appearances'
Interesting.
…
"Hey." Draco's eyebrows shot up. He'd been having to prod Harry into speaking since Christmas Day. The brunette still looked dreadful; his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, his nose and cheeks blotchy. Draco felt his heart clench sadly for the other boy. Harry acknowledging someone was a good sign, though.
"'Hey' yourself," Draco said, a slight teasing smile on his handsome face. Harry gazed at him with a strange look in his eyes. He looked nervous and awkward. Draco unlocked the bathroom door and gestured Harry to follow.
Draco could feel green eyes staring at him intently from where Harry sat in the tub. The scar from his cesarean nearly fully healed, leaving behind a clean line: the only evidence Harry had had a child. "Why are you staring at me like that, Potty?" He quipped.
Harry smiled a smile that looked more like a wince. "I wanted to ask you something. A favor. I really huge favor." Draco rose an eyebrow.
"If you're asking for a blow job—" Draco started with a slight chuckle. Harry was communicating. He had to fuel it. He had to see his brilliant smile. When had he become so smitten? He balked at his own thoughts—he wasn't smitten. It was lust. Boredom. Not 'smitten'!
Damn it.
"Kind of."
What? "Wait—what?"
"Not really," Harry squirmed uneasily in the tub, the water sloshed around him noisily. "But kind of along those lines…"
Draco leaned forward slowly, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Harry. "Harry, what the hell are you talking about?" Draco pressed. The dark haired boy sighed and pointed at his discarded trousers.
"Look in the pocket."
Draco frowned and retrieved the pants. He slid his hand into them and withdrew a folded page of a book that had been carefully ripped out.
"'Ritualistic Spells to Alter Appearances'," Draco read aloud. He frowned. "You want to change what you look like?"
"No."
Draco heaved an exasperated sigh. "Help me out here, Harry."
"Voldemort will be here in three days…Snape gave me that fucking potion again, he's going to make me have his baby again." Harry said thickly. He hugged his arms around his knees tightly.
Draco looked at him sadly.
"Unless…" Harry trailed off hesitantly.
"Unless…" Draco echoed confusedly.
"Unless you want to. You know. With me."
Draco jumped up as he stared at Harry. "Are you bloody crazy?" he yelped. Harry put a hand up like he was trying to calm a wild animal.
"Draco, hear me out; I'm asking for a favor—"
"You're asking me to get you pregnant, Harry!" he hissed at him. "That's fucking suicide! You've fucking lost your mind…"
"You want an heir, don't you?" Harry snapped at him. He knew his idea was bloody bonkers but he didn't appreciate the blonde Malfoy Heir having a conniption over it.
"Yes, of course I do," Draco began, "But Harry, this is insanity. If we were found out—"
"We wouldn't be! We have three days before HE gets here, we could—you know—and then he will, too. And he'll think it is his, and then when it's born we can have Snape perform the spell and change his appearance to look more like HIM and not like you at all. But biologically, it'd be your kid, your heir. The Malfoy line could continue…" Harry tried, hands gripping the edge of the tub tightly.
Draco stared at him flabbergasted. "You've definitely lost it…" he breathed.
"I can't do it again, Draco. I can't have another baby that looks like HIM, that looks like the one I've," his voice broke slightly, "like the one I've lost."
Draco dropped back into his chair and hid his face in his hands.
Merlin help him.
December 30th, 1998
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"I'll do it. I'll…get you pregnant." Draco never thought make such a strange declaration out loud. Harry's emerald eyes widened as he looked at the boy who came to wake him that morning.
"I…Draco, thank you."
"On one condition," Draco continued, ignoring Harry's thanks. His back was stiff and he looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep that night.
"Anything." Harry said simply.
"You have to promise me you'll never put our kid at risk, Harry." Harry flinched like he had been slapped. Draco pressed on firmly, "Obey the Dark Lord, Harry, I mean it. If he wants you to call him 'Master' or eat off the bloody floor, or suck his fucking cock, you must do it. Submit to him. No one will think less of you for doing what it takes to keep the child safe."
Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled deeply, trying to quell the pain in his heart. "I promise. I'll do whatever it takes to protect our child."
Our child.
"Then I'll do it." Draco stared at him with intense grey eyes. Harry's face flushed at his scrutiny, suddenly very aware he was disheveled and probably was sporting some morning breath.
"Er—when?" Draco snorted.
"Well certainly not this instant," the blonde remarked with a smirk. "I'll come in tonight, after my parents are asleep," he continued in a lower voice. "Maybe closer to two or three, just to be safe."
Harry climbed out of bed to follow him into the bathroom. "I suppose you better make me pretty for you then, Malfoy." Harry jested. He felt a little brighter. Just a little.
I like you just the way you are.
"We'll be here all day, then," he jabbed back at Harry.
July 22nd, 2002
"Can I speak with you guys for a moment?" Neville whispered to the duo. Hermione and Ron looked terrible. Most of the people in Hogwarts looked terrible, to be honest. No one looked like they slept well at all. Hermione looked like she cried much of her night away. She nodded, smiling weakly at Neville. He pressed a folded piece of parchment into her hand.
"What's that?" Ron questioned, leaning in to get a closer look. Hermione frowned and opened the paper. "A piece of our sixth year potions textbook? On fertility and pregnancy potions. You trying to tell us something, mate?"
"Turn it over," Neville said, and Hermione complied, brown eyes reading hungrily.
She inhaled excitedly, "Ron, look at the writing! Where'd you get this, Neville?"
Neville shoved his hands into his robe pockets, glancing over his shoulder quickly, then back to the couple. "Last night, when Bellatrix Lestrange hexed Harry and he fell into me; he slipped it to me. Does it make sense to either of you?"
Hermione read the message again. "I—I don't know. I'm not quite sure. I need to sit. I need to think."
A crown sits upon her head,
As she lifts her cup to take a sip.
In a moment I'll be dead,
And she must fall, or fail to RIP.
-Post Tenebras Lux
A/N:
This chapter was hard to write. There's a lot going on that I wanted to tell in one chapter. And it was kind of depressing to write. Poor little baby James...
Harry is an idiot in this chapter, too. He jumps into things without thinking clearly and he gets tortured in many, many ways for his actions. But canonically, Harry was always a bit irrational, so while I was mentally screaming at Harry for being so stupid, it wasn't that far of a stretch. It's clear to see the torment Harry's been through now, that has changed him from the Harry his friends once knew.
Hope y'all enjoyed!
