I Am The Son
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is not mine.
Their gazes clashed, and sucking in a fortifying breath, Draco lifted his chin and sent his coldest look back.
He felt like he'd been pinned to the floor. Fuck.
"Draco. I think you've got some explaining to do, don't you?"
Chapter Five
"I don't have to tell you anything," Draco sneered, feeling like the spotlight he'd been thrown into was ten times as hot as it should've been. Lupin, Potter, and his wife were all looking at him with various degrees of suspicion; three against one and he was the bad guy.
Story of his life, wasn't it?
"Oh, but I think you do," Lupin countered, his voice soft. He shifted and got to his feet, approaching Draco with a silent tread and crouching down to look him in the eye, the position meant to put Draco at ease. It only put Draco's back up further. "You forget, Mr Malfoy; this is my house, is it not?"
"Malfoy?"
"And you forget, Professor, that I am no longer your bloody student. You cannot order me around anymore."
"I can if you don't want to be unceremoniously booted out the door and find it solidly locked behind you."
Lips flattening, Draco ignored the spluttering from behind Lupin and kept his attention on the man who'd changed a lot in the years since he'd been Draco's third year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Life hadn't gone easy on Remus Lupin. Even an ex-Death Eater could admit that. Everyone had lost their fair share during the war, but Lupin had lost his and then some, and that showed in the mixture of self-deprecating flintiness and soul-deep exhaustion that never seemed to fade from his eyes. Most days, Draco was sure there was only two things that kept the aging werewolf going.
Potter. It was always fucking Potter.
And Lupin's son.
Shaking off the vague irritation, a platinum brow rose slowly and Draco met Lupin's eyes square on. The old man couldn't keep him out of the house. Not this house. "Oh? Are you a Black now? This house has belonged to my family for years. You cannot keep me out."
"This house is legally and magically mine, something you very well know," Lupin shot back, face stony. "You turned it down, Draco. Both you and Harry did, so it fell to me. I can forbid you entry all I like. But since that doesn't seem to be working, let's do this the hard way." Leaning back on his heels, he tilted his head and studied Draco, his expression turning calculating. Draco's heart rate jumped up a notch.
That look was dangerous.
"If you don't tell me what I want to know, you won't be able to see Teddy anymore."
Feeling his eyes go wide, Draco's mouth opened and rested there, unhinged at the jaw, before he snapped it closed again and swallowed heavily. A scowl built as he realized just how effectively trapped he was. He knew what he needed to say. What he should be saying. The trouble was, he didn't think he could say it.
He couldn't say it.
And the prick knew that.
"Fuck you," he snarled, voice low and tight. Lupin smiled, the expression devoid of humour.
"Yeah, thought that would get you. Talk, Draco."
Folding his arms and completely ignoring how heavy they felt, Draco glared first at Lupin, and then at the silent, pinch-lipped and watching Potters. "Merlin, fine! It's not that big of a deal," he said, lying through his teeth. "It's just a spell I found and was trying out. I didn't even expect it to work. Happy now?"
"Well, we would be, if that was the truth," other-Potter suddenly spoke up in an entirely too conversational tone. "And side note, Moony. Who the bloody hell is Teddy?"
"Not now, James," Lupin said, throwing his old mate a look. Other-Potter's brows dipped.
"So get him to stop telling porkies then. 'Cause there's a lot of stuff here that isn't making sense and I would really like to know why you're on semi-friendly terms with a ruddy Malfoy of all people," he said incredulously before his tone turned smug. "I knew he looked familiar."
"I'd like to know exactly where we are," Lily Potter murmured, green eyes sharp as she took a quick look around the room and then focused back on Draco. Draco found himself having a hard time looking into those eyes. So, looking away, he didn't.
It was inexplicably odd to see that colour supported by feminine features.
Lupin sighed and lifted a hand to rub his temples. "I'm trying, all right? Lily, we're in Grimmauld Place. Now, both of you shut up for a minute, yeah?"
"Grimmauld? But-"
"Prongs! Sit down and shut up!"
With a look that could only be described as a pout, other-Potter sat back and folded his arms mutinously, mirroring his saviour. "All right, settle, Rem. I'm not Sirius, you know,"
"I know that," Lupin said, very quietly after a moment. Looking at him, Draco quickly dropped his gaze and scowled at the floor. Lupin's eyes were closed, his mouth a thin, white line. Another sigh escaped him. "We'll get everything sorted out soon. I just need some answers first. Draco. I'd very much prefer it if you told us the truth."
"It is the truth..." Draco started to say, and then something made him look up and his voice trailed off. Gritting his teeth, his shoulders lifted in an exaggerated huff. Blasted conscience. "All right. It was… it was just something I was trying that didn't work. I don't even know why they're here. It wasn't supposed to be them. They're a mistake."
The silence following his statement was solid and sweaty. Hidden under his armpits, Draco's fists clenched.
"A mistake?" Lupin finally repeated in a weak voice. His mouth pulled and a hand burrowed its way through his hair, the movement agitated. "You're saying that the fact that you brought two people back to life was a mistake?! I… that isn't possible! It can't be!"
"So you know all the ins and outs of magic and ancient and ancestral rights, do you?" Draco snapped back, then grimaced immediately when Lupin's eyes sharpened. Fucking magical exhaustion was making his lips loose. He really needed to rest.
The old werewolf leant forward, searching Draco's face. "Ancient and ancestral rights? Draco, that sounds like… please tell me whatever you did to make this happen wasn't dark magic!"
"It wasn't dark magic," Draco drawled, smirking just a little when Lupin glowered at him. "What? You just told me to tell you it wasn't."
"It sounds like blood rights to me."
Lily Potter's soft voice successfully wiped the smirk from Draco's face. Lupin turned to look at the redheaded witch, his face speculative. "Why do you say that?"
"Ancestral," Lily said. She peered out at Draco from other-Potter's arms, her skin no longer the pale and pasty white it had been when she'd first woken up. Draco suspected she no longer needed her husband's support either. "I could be wrong in this, but… James, you said he looked familiar and he's a Malfoy. Didn't Narcissa Black marry Lucius Malfoy?"
Lupin spoke before other-Potter could answer. "She did. Draco's their son. But if it was blood magic, what does that have to do with you two coming back?"
"Jamie's a Black," Mrs Potter said simply. Draco sat, stone-like, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Lupin frowned thoughtfully and then turned back to Draco.
"Was it blood magic?" he asked point blank. When Draco didn't say anything, just kept his face carefully blank, he sighed and shook his head. "James's mother is Dorea Black, Draco. You can't have just gotten it in your head to start exploring dark, ancient magic that ultimately brings random family members back from the dead. What exactly were you trying to do?"
Draco saw the instant it clicked. Lupin's eyes grew round and sympathy - pity - flooded them, his face falling. "Ah fuck," he sighed, reaching out a squeezing Draco's leg. Draco's gut clenched at both the gesture and the tone, and using all of his returning strength, he shoved himself to his feet.
"I'm done here," he said, taking a step - and then groaning when the blood rushed to his head and the room spun. His vision blurred, going black for a brief second before suddenly swarming back into focus. The first thing he took note of when he could think again was the arm wrapped around his waist.
"The only place you're going is to bed in one of guestrooms," Lupin said, the look in his eyes knowing. Draco's lip curled.
"Trying to keep me hostage now?"
"Of course not. I know you're not dumb enough to go trumpeting about what you've achieved here. But I know magical exhaustion when I see it. You need to sleep and then you need food. And then perhaps sleep again."
"I'm fine," Draco muttered, throwing the interfering old man the best glare he could managed. "I don't need anything from you, Lupin. Just leave me alone."
Lupin smirked. "Nope," he said, then in a move that Draco wouldn't have seen coming even if he'd told him he was going to do it beforehand, he picked Draco up and slung him over his shoulder. "You need sleep and you're getting it. You can answer more questions when you wake."
"Put me down, you filthy half-breed!" Draco wheezed, his stomach pressing hard into Lupin's shoulder and restricting his vocal ability, not to mention his ability to breathe. Out of the corner of his eye he saw other-Potter's face twist with insult and anger.
All Lupin did was laugh and head for the door.
"Not on your life. You're just as bloody bad as Harry is. Both of you, stubborn as a house-elf. You'd think both of you were Teddy's age instead of fully grown adults."
"Don't you dare compare me to Potter!" Draco spluttered, banging his fists, rather weakly, against Lupin's back. Lupin chuckled in response and it was a short, bumpy flight up the stairs and into the closest guestroom. Draco's head spun again when Lupin grabbed him and toppled him down onto the bed, pulling off his shoes and then reaching for his belt buckle.
Panicking a little, Draco just managed to slap his hands away.
"So you're a pervert now as well?" he asked, voice slurring at the end. The mattress was very soft and he couldn't for the life of him keep his eyes open. He felt more than saw Lupin roll his eyes.
"Fine, sleep with them on," Draco heard him say before his ears succumb to the strange muffling creeping over his senses and making it impossible to concentrate. The exhaustion was drugging, and unable to do anything else, Draco sighed, slid his fingers into his pocket to curl them protectively around a small, unusually cold object, and sunk.