Chapter 10

Mister Play-it-Safe was afraid to fly

Draco leaned against the doorjamb, watching Harry. He was nursing a cup of cocoa- with a generous splash of brandy that Harry was unaware of- and had a green tartan throw wrapped around his shoulders, as he stared blandly out the window. Pads sat by his side, a vigilant watcher, as Harry's lips moved silently. Draco hadn't the faintest idea what he was saying, but he had the strong impression that asking would be a bad idea, especially with Harry as twitchy as he was now.

Harry jumped as a chunk of ash dislodged itself from the fireplace, sliding down onto the tiled front. Draco's heart almost broke as Harry's eyebrows drew together, his expression deeply sad. Right now, with that look on his face, his hair tucked behind his ear and the blanket worn like a cape, he looked incredibly young and vulnerable. Harry turned to look at Draco, his expression softening until it was a careful mask that made Draco hurt.

"It's almost six, Harry," he said, instead of what he wanted to. Harry nodded glumly.

"I know," he said with a resigned sigh. "Maybe Pig got lost." Draco agreed, not wanting to crush Harry's spirits any further. He held out his hand and Harry dragged himself to his feet, clutching his cape in one hand and his mug in the other. Harry shuffled straight into his chest, pressing the side of his head to it, and sighed again. Draco was about to wrap Harry up in his arms when the fireplace made a hushing sound again, and blazed to life. Harry's eyes went wide at the same time Hermione tumbled to her knees on their rug, Sophie clutched tightly in her arms and her hair in disarray.

"Hermione!" Harry croaked.

"Hermione!" Draco said, alarmed. Harry dropped his blanket and mug- Draco thankfully caught the latter before it could do much damage- and rushed towards her. Draco followed him.

"Please close your Floo," Hermione said, and Draco was struck by the fact that she was begging, but did so without a second thought. Harry helped Hermione to her feet. Pads, ever the hero, patiently interposed himself between Hermione and the couch and licked her hand.

"What the fuck happened to you?" he hissed. Sophie hiccuped, wiping her nose on her sleeve, her face streaked with tears. Draco reached out to peel Sophie from her mother, stroking her hair to try and soothe her. Sophie latched onto his neck with a stranglehold and refused to let go. Harry had his hand under Hermione's chin, tilting her face slightly upwards.

"Nothing," she said tightly, and Draco saw that she wasn't in much of a better way than her daughter, her mascara running down her face. In the dim light, Draco could make out the fresh purplish tinge of a rising bruise along her cheek.

"If that's nothing, Hermione Granger, I will eat my shoes," Draco told her.

"It's nothing," Hermione pleaded, sounding desperate.

"Did Ron-"

"Harry," she sounded perilously close to tears, and Harry held up his hands, gesturing to show her he would cease and desist.

"Do you need somewhere to stay?" Harry tried instead, as Hermione's hand rested on his wrist and he relaxed. She let her chin fall and nodded once.

"Cocoa?" Draco asked, and felt Sophie nod against him. Hermione looked so unbelievably grateful he felt uncomfortable.

"Thank you, both of you," she said, as Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, directing her out of the sitting room. He stooped to pick up the blanket he had dropped, wrapping it around Hermione, who was clutching her arms across her chest, her eyes downcast. Harry placed Hermione in a chair as if she was a delicate porcelain doll, and Draco dropped the now no longer sniffling Sophie back onto Hermione's lap. He heard her murmuring, telling Sophie that they would be sleeping over with Uncle Harry and Uncle Draco, feeling a strange stir at being called family.

"I can't believe it," Harry mumbled as Draco touched his arm. Harry was busy mutilating the paper packets the hot cocoa powder came in, shredding it so finely it could have been hot cocoa powder.

"I can," Harry shot him an incredulous look. "You saw how Ron treated her that day, and when we went to Italy?"

"What about it?" Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper, as he mixed the powder into warmed milk.

"There were all of three people wearing sleeves there: our waitress, me, and Hermione."

"So?" Harry said, as Draco abducted one of the mugs of cocoa to add some- in his opinion- much needed liquid courage to it. Harry eyed him.

"Yes, you got some too," he said. "The waitress was in uniform, but I'm hiding something. I'll wager Hermione was, too." He grabbed the other mug before turning around to give them to Sophie and Hermione, making very sure they got to the right places. Sophie peered into hers.

"Marshmallows?" she asked. Draco chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Harry.

"On it," Harry assured her, and Sophie grinned a gap-toothed grin.

"Lose your tooth, Sophster?" Draco asked, taking a seat. Sophie stuck her tongue into the gap and nodded.

"It's under my pillow at home," she said. "Will the Tooth Fairy know I'm here?"

"I'm sure she will," Draco said, glancing up at Hermione. Hermione smiled and took a sip of her cocoa, and Draco realised that she was stroking Pads' head inattentively. For his part, the dog simply sat there, his soft brown eyes trained on her. Harry finally came to the rescue with a handful of miniature marshmallows, dunking them into Sophie's mug.

"That's too many!" she giggled.

"Well, I'll take one…" Draco said, reaching towards her cup with a grin on his face. Sophie drew it away and stuck out her tongue at him, and Draco looked up to see Harry and Hermione deep in a conversation of meaningful glances.

"Sophie, finish up your cocoa and you can watch some telly, all right?" Hermione told her daughter.

"She can take it with her," Harry said, and Hermione nodded.

"Can Pads come?" Sophie asked, and Harry nodded. Sophie slid off of her mother's lap and beckoned Pads to follow her out of the kitchen. After a long and awkwardly silent moment, Hermione put her mug on the table and stared at it, her thumb running up and down the side. Draco was rather amazed at how patiently Harry waited for Hermione to start speaking.

"He's not bad," she said finally, quietly. Harry shook his head in agreement with her, and Hermione took her hands off of her mug, holding them out. Draco took the one that was offered to him, squeezing it. "You know how they are, Harry," she was looking up at Harry now, not quite meeting his eyes. "The flash-bang temper."

"I know."

Hermione nodded resolutely. "Ron's just… impetuous. He's still a big kid." Draco had to resist the urge to say something nasty. Another long, silent moment stretched, and Hermione unexpectedly turned to look at him, her eyes- as soft and chocolatey brown as a puppy's- meeting his. "He never meant it, you know?"

"They never do," Draco said, and Hermione nodded, as if this was the right thing for him to have said.

"It wasn't bad," she said quickly. "No worse than when I was working with un-researched things in the Department. But…"

"Things aren't Ron," Harry put in, and Hermione nodded.

"He was so sorry at first," she said, looking beseechingly at Harry. "I just kept telling myself it was the last time he'd do it. But then… then…"

"Then I showed up again."

Hermione's face crumpled. "Yes," she whispered. "He came home today in a rage, I've never seen him so angry. He… he…" she sobbed, and Harry was instantly there, smothering her in a bear hug. Her fingernails were digging painfully into Draco's hand and he squeezed back, wondering how the rash, jealous kid he had used to make fun of could have turned into such a despicable creature. There was a small sound at the door.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione's voice was muffled. "I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Shhh," Harry said, pressing a kiss to Hermione's temple. "Don't explain anymore, I get it."

"Mummy?"

Draco turned and saw Sophie, her hand on Pads' shoulders and her empty cocoa mug trailing, standing at the entry of the kitchen and looking just slightly scared. Hermione extracted herself from Harry's arms.

"What, sweetpea?"

"Daddy's here," Sophie said softly. Draco was standing before he realised he had even moved, his chair scraping across the floor with a loud protest. He looked at Harry and saw an absolute murderous rage in his eyes that Draco was sure he was reflecting. Hermione had gone terribly pale; she held out her arms and Sophie ran into them. Pads, his expression protective, placed himself like a wall, separating them from whatever it was he didn't like. Harry's fists were clenching, his jaw set, as Hermione stroked Sophie's hair, making soothing sounds that seemed to be mostly directed at herself. Harry began to stalk out of the kitchen and Draco seized his arm.

"We're not killing him," he warned, and Harry's eyes sparked with fury.

"No, but if I have my way, he'll be carrying most of his parts home," Harry said, his tones low and dangerous. Draco followed him to the door, which was thrown open to show Ronald Weasley, his face flushed and set into a grotesque mask of anger. Harry seemed to swell as he glared up at him, but Draco realised then how very large Ron was compared to either of them.

"Where is she?" Ron growled. Harry stared. "Your Floo is closed, I know she's here."

"And she's not leaving."

"You're not holding my daughter hostage!" Ron roared.

"So much care for your wife," Draco sneered.

"You bloody well hit her, Ron!" Ron looked very much like he would enjoy hitting Harry then. "She doesn't want to be there, at least not now. She's staying here."

"She can't keep Sophie! She's my daughter, too!"

"Do you know how scared that little girl was when she came here?" Draco asked him furiously. "That kid never stops going, but for once I had to get her started!"

"You disgusting piece of Death Eater rubbish," Ron snarled, raising his fist. Harry lashed out and caught his wrist, obviously hurting it by the expression on Ron's face.

"Get out of here, Ron," Harry said, making the simple statement sound like an unfinished threat.

"Hermione!" Ron bellowed. "Hermione, get out here! I want my daughter, you bitch!"

"Go away, Ronald," Hermione's voice came from behind them, and Draco hazarded to look over his shoulder and saw her standing with Sophie clutched in her arms, Pads standing protectively in front of her.

"I want Sophie. She's mine."

"She's not a thing, Ronald. She's a child, and she wants to be with someone who doesn't scare her."

"I do not scare my daughter!"

"Ronald, you're scaring your wife, your childhood friend, and a bloke who used to love tormenting you, I'm sure you're scaring a six year-old girl!" Draco said.

"Ron, I'm giving you one more chance to leave," Harry said levelly.

"Or what?" Ron growled.

"Or I'll be forced to kick your arse."

Ron actually laughed at that. "You? You're, what, five foot seven? Eleven stone?"

"Size doesn't matter, you ruddy arsehole."

"I'm sure that's what your boyfriend tells you all the time," Ron's voice was venomous. Draco fixed him with a glare.

"At least he can pick on someone who can fight back." Ron spluttered.

"Hermione could-"

"Don't even go there!" Harry snarled, at the same time Draco bit out a, "If she wanted to get beaten to a pulp, she could." Ron let out a frustrated yell, and it was then that Draco noticed that Sophie was crying, high-pitched, hiccuping wails that Hermione was trying to soothe with small sounds and her hands, although she was crying too. Sophie was patting at her mother's face, staring over her shoulder with a horrified expression at her father, his fist still raised for a blow and held at bay by Harry.

"Do you see that?" Draco stabbed a finger towards them. "You tell me you're not scaring her now!" Ron seemed to deflate a little.

"I'm not…"

"You are!" Hermione shouted at him. "You're scaring your daughter!" Ron's face fell as he looked at his daughter, but Sophie was refusing to look back at him, her face buried in Hermione's hair. He tried to step forward but the wards caught him, and Pads barked once, a gruff warning. Ron's fist unclenched and Harry let go of it, watching it warily as it fell back to Ron's side.

"Sophie," Ron implored. "Come on, Sophie."

"You're yelly," Sophie sniffled. "I wanna stay with Uncle Harry." Ron frowned. He tried to glare a hole through Harry, then jabbed his finger towards him.

"I'll be back," he snarled.

"And did I mention you're not invited in?" Harry quipped, shutting the door. There was a thunderous crack on the other side as Ron apparated. Draco immediately headed towards Hermione, who lowered herself into a sitting position on the stairs, still sobbing. He knelt before her and took one of her hands.

"He's gone," he said. "It's all right." Harry gave an abrupt, hysterical giggle as he sank to his heels beside Draco.

"Oh Jesus bloody Christ," Harry breathed, his eyes wild. Pads squeezed into their midst, switching the bulk of his attention to Harry, who couldn't seem to stop laughing. Draco wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders and Harry collapsed into him, now hyperventilating. "Bloody fucking shit," Harry managed between gasps. "H-h-hate fighting. Fuck." Hermione reached out, drawing Harry into a hug, and the four of them sat, a shaky, sobby mass, as Draco gave in to the helpless urge to laugh, and wondered just how much uglier life could get.

-- -- --

Mornings at Grimmauld Place went one of two ways: they were filled with quiet recollections, if only one of the men woke up, or they were filled with raucous laughter and yelling as they tried to prepare breakfast if they both did. This morning was quiet, but it was not a self-imposed quiet, it was a thick blanket that tried to smother all sound. Harry entered the kitchen in his pyjama trousers to find Hermione sifting through the cupboards. Sophie was sitting at the table, kicking her legs. With a sigh Hermione fell back on her heels and turned, leaning against the counter.

"Sophie wanted cereal," she said. Harry pointed.

"That one. Behind the flour," he said. "But I don't know if we have any milk."

"I already found that, I figured I'd forgo tea this morning so that she could have breakfast," Hermione said, as she fed her daughter.

"Raisins!" Sophie squealed with delight, and set upon her cereal. Harry prepared himself coffee as Draco slumped into the room, fell into a chair, and put his head on the table. Hermione watched at Harry put an ungodly amount of sugar into his coffee, and then a more moderate amount in the other. He tapped Draco on the head with the mug and Draco grabbed for it, inhaling deeply of the heady scent.

"Ah, coffee," Draco murmured reverently, drinking of his favourite beverage.

"I take it you two don't function until you have some," Hermione said, absent-mindedly braiding her daughter's hair. Draco shook his head with a grunt.

"Caffeine are good," he said, and Harry laughed.

"We'll need to get more groceries. Man-food isn't quite little girl-food."

"Doritoes!" Sophie crowed, flinging her spoon- and therefore some cereal- as she did so.

"Actually," Harry said thoughtfully. "We had those. But we ate them. Maybe man-food is little girl-food." Harry finished off his coffee and fed Pads, who wolfed down his breakfast with alacrity as they discussed their outing. When Sophie was done she swept up the stairs like a tiny whirlwind to get dressed, her mother in tow. Harry followed suit and afterwards, dressed in jeans and tee-shirt, thumped down the stairs, a pair of extra-warm jumpers in his hand.

"You didn't have your coat," he explained, and Hermione smiled as she snugged it on. Sophie looked like she was drowning in waves of blue as she pulled the hood over her head. Harry pulled on his own coat.

"Draco?" he called up the stairs. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" Draco's head popped out from the bathroom, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He pulled it out.

"I doubt Ronald's smart enough to get through my wards, Harry. I'll be fine." Harry nodded, and then they left.

Draco finished brushing his teeth before deciding a shower was in order. He felt absolutely filthy after last night's ordeal. The water was warm, the spray a light and distracting hum that coursed through him and left him feeling relaxed. Relaxed was a good thing, because he highly doubted he'd be relaxed at all for the next few days. Something about Ronald Weasley set him on an edge he hadn't been on in years. The single-minded intensity of his demands for his daughter was rather frightening. If there was a man who terrified him, it was a man who thought he was entitled to something he wasn't.

With a sigh, Draco pulled himself out of the shower and got dressed. He wrapped a towel around his head, scrubbing his hair dry with his hands as he navigated the stairs by memory. Maybe there was a chance at more coffee before he had to do any really heavy thinking. He walked into something, which seized his arms, and his heart stopped in his throat.

"How did you get in?" he choked out.

"I'm an Auror, you fucking tosser." Draco groaned as he was slammed into the wall. "Where is she?"

"I didn't think you were smart enough to unravel my wards," he wheezed, trying to laugh. One of his arms was released and he reached out, but not before his head was slammed into the wall again. His towel slid off of his head as he tried to blink the world back into focus. One Ronald Weasley had him gripped roughly, and behind him was another man, shorter and smirking. Draco did laugh then.

"Oh, you aren't," he said, feeling a vindictive thrill as Ron bared his teeth at him. Ron fisted his hands in the front of his shirt, pulling him upright against the wall and growled at him.

"Where. Is. She?"

"Out, I suspect," Draco said conversationally.

"You fucking ponce," Ron snarled, pressing his forearm up under Draco's chin. Draco struggled to breath, reaching up instinctively to claw at the arm that was slowing strangling him. "You're not stealing my wife."

"If I'm a ponce, what would I do with her?" he breathed. His head exploded, white stars dancing to a dizzy beat inside of his skull, spiking his brain with white-hot needles of pain. When the stars finally cleared from his eyes he found himself on the floor, the left side of his head aching horribly as the needles pricked down along the side of his face. He made to sit up but a foot on his chest stopped him and he thumped back to the floor, squinting up at Ron.

"Last chance, Malfoy. Where is she?" Ron pressed his heel into Draco's sternum, and Draco grunted, banging his head against the floor as he grabbed at Ron's ankle, trying to twist it. Draco's lungs stopped working properly, every short, sharp breath sending bolts of pain crawling along his ribcage and into his back. He grit his teeth and glared up at Ron, completely silent. A very long moment passed while they stared unblinking at each other.

"I don't think he's talking, Weasley," his partner said, sounding bored. With a disgusted growl Ron kicked him, square in the jaw, and a strangled yell made its way out of Draco's throat. Ron immediately snatched him by the hair, hauling him to his knees, and wrenched his head back. Everything about his face hurt like a firestorm, but Draco grimaced a bloody grin up at Ron.

"I don't have time for your shit, Malfoy."

"Don't have time for yours," Draco retorted.

"Then we're in agreement," Ron muttered darkly. Draco swallowed the blood gathering in his throat and threw his hands up to defend himself as Ron lashed out at him. The first blows landed on his upraised arms before they crumpled up against him and he fell back to the floor, his ribs falling as Ron's next victim. A few well-placed kicks had him unable to breathe, and Draco curled up into a ball, forcing himself not to whimper. It was all he had left, not giving Ron what he wanted. No Hermione, no Sophie, no indication of pain. It was with the same bloody smile on his face that Draco finally surrendered to the comforting embrace of black.

-- -- --

OH NOES I CLIFFHANGED YOU.

This began as a very simple exercise: I was stuck on writing my novel and needed to write something else to break the block. I'd always been interested in the Potterverse and how people loved to manipulate the fanfics, and after hearing the fluff epilogue I thought, "For fuck's sakes, why would everything be happy-perfect?" It's war: people die, people get shell-shocked, people can't cope. Neither Harry nor Draco has ever struck me as the kind to cope. I'm not sure how long this story will go on, but I can guarantee you I will finish it. Whether that's in another ten chapters or in a hundred, I don't know.

Also, good time to mention I haven't actually read Deathly Hallows. If you see any terrible inconsistencies, please let me know. Also, if anything important happened that I haven't touched on, please tell me! It's not my fault I have no closure :(