Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews...the few of them...
Disclaimer: See part one.
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Midnight, and hot, and Nathalie was swinging her legs thump-thump against the gravestone she was perched on, watching her father talking to a boy called Cedric Diggory in a low, concerned voice. She had been sent to this gravestone, just out of earshot, after she had refused to stop pestering Cedric with questions.
"It's not *my* fault that I want to know things," she muttered rebelliously to the small boy sitting in the grave, watching her curiously. "It's not like I'll get to go to Hogwarts."
"Nathalie," came Harry's warning voice. "Stop talking to random spirits, it's bad for them."
He turned back to Cedric, who looked grave. "So that's what my mother was talking about? That's what's going on?"
"Yes," Cedric agreed. "But I...I don't know that I should have told you, Harry, even though you are." He trailed off. "There's a lot going on," he said after a moment. "Not all of it is to do with the living - the Others are beginning to get...restless."
"As long as they don't get restless for the living," Harry muttered. Cedric didn't meet Harry's eyes, but Harry decided not to press it. "I'd better go," he said instead. "Nathalie's getting bored, and the Aurors will start to trace me if I use much more magic."
"They're starting to trace you anyway," Cedric told him hesitantly. "It's - it's all over the country, Harry. The Aurors knew where you were in Derbyshire, before you'd even left - it was pure chance that you left before they got there, and it's better for you that you travel by Muggle ways. But Harry, you won't be able to keep running for much longer."
Harry looked over at his daughter, who was animatedly talking to the same small boy. "I intend to run for as long as I can," he murmured. "I can't let them take her away." He looked back at Cedric, only to find him gone. "Damn."
He stayed where he was for a long moment, fingering the skull clasp of his cloak. As much as he hated to admit it, Cedric was right. They couldn't keep running, he needed Nathalie to be safe. But the safest place he knew was the place he was least likely to be accepted.
"Nathalie," he called. "Come along, and stop talking to that boy!" Nathalie looked up guiltily, muttered something to the boy, who was already fading, slid off her gravestone and ran along to him. "Nathalie, I've told you before."
"Yes, Papa," she agreed. "But Papa, he was only - "
"I don't want to hear it," Harry overrode her. 'You know the rules - do you want to get caught? We must be especially careful now, here, because they keep such a close look here because I lived here before. Understand?"
"Yes, Papa," Nathalie murmured, subdued. "I'm sorry."
Harry sighed. "It's not your fault, cherie," he told her gently. "Come on, you need to get to sleep, it's far too late for you to be awake."
"I'm nine years old!" Nathalie reminded him hotly as they began walking from the graveyard. "And it's only midnight, I've been up ever so much later than...this..." She bit her lip, and avoided his eyes. He raised one eyebrow.
"Have you, indeed," he commented, a little disapprovingly. "Who kept you up, young lady?"
But she wouldn't talk, and Harry resolved to find out who had been keeping her awake from one or other of his parents as soon as he could. Nathalie, he was amused to see, was yawning, and stumbling as she walked. When she nearly fell to her knees from tiredness, he scooped her up in his arms.
"Go to sleep, cherie," he murmured. "We'll be home soon enough."
Scant minutes later, Nathalie was tucked into bed, and Harry sat brooding in the armchair in the sitting-room of their rented flat. The things that Cedric had told him would not let him sleep tonight. The things that Cedric had told him would affect the whole world, if they came to pass, and yet...
And yet the whole wizarding world was hunting him, and Nathalie, day and night, scarcely allowing either of them any rest. For nine years they had been running from Aurors and Ministries, and even from Dumbledore's Order itself.
*And all because,* he thought, a little bitterly, *I was stupid enough to learn about what I am.*
He lifted his hand so that the dancing candlelight played over the ring on his finger. The silver skull...he would never escape its brand nor, he realised, would he want to. But Nathalie...
He wished he could give Nathalie more, but she would always be what she was. She could not deny that, and neither could he.
His thoughts strayed to the man they had seen at the top of the Eiffel Tower. That had been the closest they had come for years to being caught, and he had no doubts that the man would have handed them over to either the French Aurors or the English.
"Draco..." he murmured. "Where did we go wrong?"
*You know exactly where you went wrong,* a nasty little voice in his mind prodded. *You know exactly why it never would have worked out. He couldn't stand the thought of what you are.*
"Shut up," he hissed. Then realisation hit him. "Merlin. Talking to myself, that can't be a good sign." He closed his eyes. *Damn, I wish I had some whisky.* But no, he couldn't have whisky anymore. Just one of the many prices he had to pay.
"That all depends, my dear Harry, on what signs you are looking for."
Harry's eyes flew open. "Please don't do that," he entreated. "It's really quite annoying."
"Oh, fine. I'll go then, shall I?"
"Oh, stay," Harry muttered. "Not that either option will do you much good, with what I've heard."
Godric shrugged. "That depends on your point of view."
Harry gazed at him quizzically. "Have you been spending a lot of time with Salazar lately?" Godric grinned unrepentantly. "Well, please stop, it gets bloody annoying."
"Oh, don't say that," Godric complained. "If you say that, I'll really have to stop, and were getting along so well at the moment - Merlin hasn't complained about us for months." Harry gave him a look. "Weeks, then."
"Fine," Harry muttered. 'Do whatever you want, it's not like I really care." He closed his eyes again. Godric frowned worriedly at his young friend. After a moment, Harry opened one eye. "I am trying to go to sleep," he remarked. "Do you think -"
"I'll go," Godric said quickly. "But Harry, they'll be here soon." He slowly disappeared, and Harry groaned.
"After a remark like that, he expects me to sleep," he muttered. "How on earth did I end up in *his* house?"
He slept, and dreamt of darkness and shadow creeping around him, claiming him as their child, and the Others clamouring for more than they had...more than they had any right to have...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued.
Disclaimer: See part one.
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Midnight, and hot, and Nathalie was swinging her legs thump-thump against the gravestone she was perched on, watching her father talking to a boy called Cedric Diggory in a low, concerned voice. She had been sent to this gravestone, just out of earshot, after she had refused to stop pestering Cedric with questions.
"It's not *my* fault that I want to know things," she muttered rebelliously to the small boy sitting in the grave, watching her curiously. "It's not like I'll get to go to Hogwarts."
"Nathalie," came Harry's warning voice. "Stop talking to random spirits, it's bad for them."
He turned back to Cedric, who looked grave. "So that's what my mother was talking about? That's what's going on?"
"Yes," Cedric agreed. "But I...I don't know that I should have told you, Harry, even though you are." He trailed off. "There's a lot going on," he said after a moment. "Not all of it is to do with the living - the Others are beginning to get...restless."
"As long as they don't get restless for the living," Harry muttered. Cedric didn't meet Harry's eyes, but Harry decided not to press it. "I'd better go," he said instead. "Nathalie's getting bored, and the Aurors will start to trace me if I use much more magic."
"They're starting to trace you anyway," Cedric told him hesitantly. "It's - it's all over the country, Harry. The Aurors knew where you were in Derbyshire, before you'd even left - it was pure chance that you left before they got there, and it's better for you that you travel by Muggle ways. But Harry, you won't be able to keep running for much longer."
Harry looked over at his daughter, who was animatedly talking to the same small boy. "I intend to run for as long as I can," he murmured. "I can't let them take her away." He looked back at Cedric, only to find him gone. "Damn."
He stayed where he was for a long moment, fingering the skull clasp of his cloak. As much as he hated to admit it, Cedric was right. They couldn't keep running, he needed Nathalie to be safe. But the safest place he knew was the place he was least likely to be accepted.
"Nathalie," he called. "Come along, and stop talking to that boy!" Nathalie looked up guiltily, muttered something to the boy, who was already fading, slid off her gravestone and ran along to him. "Nathalie, I've told you before."
"Yes, Papa," she agreed. "But Papa, he was only - "
"I don't want to hear it," Harry overrode her. 'You know the rules - do you want to get caught? We must be especially careful now, here, because they keep such a close look here because I lived here before. Understand?"
"Yes, Papa," Nathalie murmured, subdued. "I'm sorry."
Harry sighed. "It's not your fault, cherie," he told her gently. "Come on, you need to get to sleep, it's far too late for you to be awake."
"I'm nine years old!" Nathalie reminded him hotly as they began walking from the graveyard. "And it's only midnight, I've been up ever so much later than...this..." She bit her lip, and avoided his eyes. He raised one eyebrow.
"Have you, indeed," he commented, a little disapprovingly. "Who kept you up, young lady?"
But she wouldn't talk, and Harry resolved to find out who had been keeping her awake from one or other of his parents as soon as he could. Nathalie, he was amused to see, was yawning, and stumbling as she walked. When she nearly fell to her knees from tiredness, he scooped her up in his arms.
"Go to sleep, cherie," he murmured. "We'll be home soon enough."
Scant minutes later, Nathalie was tucked into bed, and Harry sat brooding in the armchair in the sitting-room of their rented flat. The things that Cedric had told him would not let him sleep tonight. The things that Cedric had told him would affect the whole world, if they came to pass, and yet...
And yet the whole wizarding world was hunting him, and Nathalie, day and night, scarcely allowing either of them any rest. For nine years they had been running from Aurors and Ministries, and even from Dumbledore's Order itself.
*And all because,* he thought, a little bitterly, *I was stupid enough to learn about what I am.*
He lifted his hand so that the dancing candlelight played over the ring on his finger. The silver skull...he would never escape its brand nor, he realised, would he want to. But Nathalie...
He wished he could give Nathalie more, but she would always be what she was. She could not deny that, and neither could he.
His thoughts strayed to the man they had seen at the top of the Eiffel Tower. That had been the closest they had come for years to being caught, and he had no doubts that the man would have handed them over to either the French Aurors or the English.
"Draco..." he murmured. "Where did we go wrong?"
*You know exactly where you went wrong,* a nasty little voice in his mind prodded. *You know exactly why it never would have worked out. He couldn't stand the thought of what you are.*
"Shut up," he hissed. Then realisation hit him. "Merlin. Talking to myself, that can't be a good sign." He closed his eyes. *Damn, I wish I had some whisky.* But no, he couldn't have whisky anymore. Just one of the many prices he had to pay.
"That all depends, my dear Harry, on what signs you are looking for."
Harry's eyes flew open. "Please don't do that," he entreated. "It's really quite annoying."
"Oh, fine. I'll go then, shall I?"
"Oh, stay," Harry muttered. "Not that either option will do you much good, with what I've heard."
Godric shrugged. "That depends on your point of view."
Harry gazed at him quizzically. "Have you been spending a lot of time with Salazar lately?" Godric grinned unrepentantly. "Well, please stop, it gets bloody annoying."
"Oh, don't say that," Godric complained. "If you say that, I'll really have to stop, and were getting along so well at the moment - Merlin hasn't complained about us for months." Harry gave him a look. "Weeks, then."
"Fine," Harry muttered. 'Do whatever you want, it's not like I really care." He closed his eyes again. Godric frowned worriedly at his young friend. After a moment, Harry opened one eye. "I am trying to go to sleep," he remarked. "Do you think -"
"I'll go," Godric said quickly. "But Harry, they'll be here soon." He slowly disappeared, and Harry groaned.
"After a remark like that, he expects me to sleep," he muttered. "How on earth did I end up in *his* house?"
He slept, and dreamt of darkness and shadow creeping around him, claiming him as their child, and the Others clamouring for more than they had...more than they had any right to have...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued.