~A/N~ I'm sorry about the long wait for this one, but I have very little spare time right now and it could take awhile for the last few chapters to get out. Hopefully, it won't take longer than two weeks per update. This chapter is very long and contains a lot of information, so that should make you happy. Enjoy!
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~ Every time I try to grasp for air,
I am smothered in despair
It's never over
Seems I'll never wake from this nightmare
I let out a silent prayer -
let it be over ~
Ethan grabbed a hold of Vincent's sleeve and forcibly pulled him to the side of the corridor, the rest of their DADA class filing past into the noisy flurry of between class activity and chatter.
No one took any notice of the two Slytherins; one looking superior and the other burning a hole into his face with a dark, intense stare.
"And you saw Potter with them?" Ethan asked, picking up their conversation where they had left off, with Vincent having told him the basic details of what he'd witnessed.
"Yes." Vincent nodded emphatically. "They were all in some kind of magical room together."
"Magical room?"
"Yeah, I was walking down the corridor and this door opened out of nowhere and Potter came walking out. I ducked around the corner and a few seconds later Malfoy and those two Gryffindor friends of Potter's came out, too."
"And that's when you overheard them talking?" Ethan confirmed.
Vincent nodded dutifully.
"Those fucking Gryffindors," Ethan ground out. "Always sticking their noses in other people's business."
"So, why is Potter using a concealment charm?" Vincent asked curiously.
Ethan snapped out of his angry reverie and smiled. "The boy is like a disobedient puppy, sometimes you have to smack him around a few times to get him to listen."
"You hit the Boy-Who-Lived?" Vincent asked incredulously.
"Of course, how else am I supposed to discipline him when he fucks up, and believe me, it's often."
"Then why date him?" Vincent asked, all traces of amusement gone.
Ethan scanned his expression thoughtfully, then gave his head a shake. "Well, he is famous and all that..." he trailed off.
"Plus, he lets you beat him," Vincent said, without humour.
Ethan, not registering the tone of Vincent's statement, burst into peals of laughter. "Yeah, he just stands there and takes it."
Vincent smiled half-heartedly, hiding the repulsion twisting in his gut. This was too much even for his jaded Slytherin mind. "We'd better get to class," he pointed out hollowly.
Ethan wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and picked up his discarded book bag. "Oh, wait!"
"What?"
"I need you to watch those meddlesome Gryffindors for me."
"What for?"
"Just make sure they're not trying to get me into trouble."
"What about, Malfoy?" Vincent asked, as they started walking.
"Leave him to me."
* * * * * * * * *
Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he exited greenhouse number three. He was definitely grateful for the upcoming break from classes for the next three weeks, leaving him to concentrate on more important things - namely, Harry.
"Malfoy!"
Draco turned and was instantly on his guard as Ethan came striding over to him, a pleasant smile plastered on his face.
"What do you want?" Draco asked shortly, his volatile anger already boiling just below the surface.
"May I have a word with you?"
There was definitely an underlying layer of tension in that simple request.
"No, you may not," Draco declined breezily.
Ethan's smile vanished, a storm quickly gathering in his darkening eyes. "I think it would be in your best interest to talk with me...and Harry's, too."
"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Draco asked, angrily.
"Yes, I believe I am," Ethan smirked. "Now follow me."
Against his better judgement, Draco followed the other boy into the empty greenhouse.
"I'll be brief," Ethan said in a business-like voice, placing his bag down on one of the stools and turning to lean against the edge of the table. "I just came to give you a friendly reminder."
"Of what?" Draco asked, pertly.
Ethan smiled. "That Potter is mine, and you had better stay away from him."
"Or what?" Draco challenged.
"Or I'll simply take the 'temptation' out of the equation."
"What temptation?"
"Why, Harry himself, of course," Ethan spoke with an eerie sense of casualty. "It would be fairly easy, I assure you."
"What makes you think that I even care?"
Ethan laughed. "Don't try to play that game with me, Malfoy." He straightened up and moved to stand directly in front of Draco, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "I know all your secrets."
"What secrets?" Draco snorted, unaffected.
"That you're still in love with Harry Potter," he whispered slowly, drawing it out.
Draco stepped back and narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I'm not the only one with secrets. I know what you're really like."
"You mean the behind-closed-doors side of me?" Ethan asked with a smile.
"You wouldn't want that getting around now, would you?"
"That would put a damper on things," Ethan agreed derisively. "But Potter's body would be cold long before anyone could do anything about it."
"Maybe Harry will eventually dump you," Draco said with malice.
Ethan's smile grew as he backed up and casually slung his bag over his shoulder. "He'll never leave me," he said with certainty. "No matter what I do to him, he always comes back. Sometimes he asks for it, begs for it even, for the pain that I can give him. It's an addiction with these poor misguided boys that seek it out the abuse that has followed them their entire lives. Strange, isn't it? You ever wonder if maybe that's why he was with you, Malfoy."
"I never laid a hand on him," Draco growled defensively.
"But it was there, lurking just beneath the surface-"
"No."
"-and Harry wanted to seek it out."
"No," Draco denied vehemently. "It wasn't like that-"
"Come on, Malfoy," Ethan urged playfully. "Your name says it all – your father is a part of a faction whose main goal is to kill Harry Potter. Harry was probably hoping that you would reveal yourself as the Death Eater in training that you are and torture him."
"You're sick," Draco frowned in disgust. "And I am not my father."
"No, you're not," Ethan conceded wisely. "But sadly, neither are you brave enough to stand up to him. You proclaim that you care for Potter, and yet, you don't want to be seen with him. I guess that leaves you kind of in the middle. Alone."
Ethan shifted his bag and gave Draco a knowing smile as he passed by and left him alone in the quiet of the greenhouse.
* * * * * * * * *
"Granger!" Draco hissed between the shelves in the library.
Hermione turned and peered through the stacks of books in amusement. "I'm alone, Malfoy, no need for the cloak and dagger routine."
Draco slipped around the tall shelf, glancing around the near deserted library, as he entered her aisle.
"Where is everyone?" he wondered aloud.
Hermione picked up another book and glanced over the cover. "It's the first day of Christmas holidays."
"Oh, right." Draco remembered. "No one in their right mind would come in to do any work today."
Hermione slid the book back into place and glared over her shoulder at Draco. "Some people happen to like the quiet of the library on the first day of the break."
Draco rolled his eyes and sat down on a nearby foot stool. "Anyway, I'm not here to discuss how pathetic your personal life is."
"You're certainly not here to make friends either," Hermione muttered, still perusing the dusty shelves.
"I had a little chat with our good friend Ethan today, or rather, he had a little chat with me."
Hermione whirled around in surprise. "He spoke to you? Why? About what?" she asked, breathlessly.
"To give me a warning," Draco sneered. "To stay away from Harry, or else."
"Or else what?"
"Or else Harry will pay for it."
Hermione frowned and chewed her bottom lip worriedly.
"He knows we're up to something," Draco said.
"Apparently," Hermione replied dryly.
"Have you found anything on his family yet?"
"No, nothing." Hermione sighed in frustration. "There is no mention of a Fiori family line at all."
"I guess I could ask my father..."
"Wouldn't he get suspicious?" Hermione asked hesitantly.
"I somehow doubt he'll guess that we need to find out about an abusive Slytherin boy so that we can save Harry Potter from his evil clutches."
"Are you ever not sarcastic?" Hermione asked, laconically.
"Only when I'm not talking to you or the Weasel." Draco smiled brightly. "Speaking of which, here's your little boyfriend now."
"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione informed him distractedly, watching as Ron came rushing across the room to them.
Madam Pince glared at him reproachfully from behind her counter.
"Did you get it?" Hermione asked, excitedly.
"Yep." Ron grinned proudly.
"Get what?" Draco asked curiously.
"Let's see it," Hermione whispered in delight.
Ron pulled from under his cloak a large, manila folder full of papers. As Hermione grasped a hold of it, Draco glimpsed a name written neatly on the front.
"You stole Ethan's personal file?" Draco asked, impressed despite himself.
Ron smiled and nodded as Hermione opened the file and began intently searching through its contents.
Draco stepped up to her side and read over her shoulder as Ron leaned against the book shelf and waited.
Twenty minutes later, Hermione closed the folder in frustration and stamped her foot. "I thought for sure we would find something in here that we could use. Now all we know is that his school record is impeccable and that his extra-curricular activities include quidditch and chess club."
"And we also know where he lives," Draco said, raising a brow suggestively.
"What are you going to do?" Ron asked. "Break into his house?"
"No, but we could talk to his parents. Ask them a few questions."
"I really don't think they'll talk to you."
"I'll be nice," Draco smiled. "I'll just be my usual charming self. How can they resist?"
Ron snorted and was about to reply to that when Hermione interrupted.
"Alright, but I'm going, too."
Ron gaped. "You can't be serious! His parents are probably psychos. They might hex you or murder you, and chop you up into little bits."
"Don't be so dramatic, Ron," Hermione chastised. "Dumbledore met with them at the beginning of term, so I'm sure they're fine. Plus, we'll have our wands with us."
"I think its crazy," Ron grumbled.
"Good, because you're not going," Hermione said, firmly.
"What?" Ron exclaimed. "Harry's my friend-"
"Which is why you have to stay here and look after him."
"Oh...right."
"Okay?"
"Yeah, I'll stay. But you have to tell me everything that you see, especially the creepy, evil stuff."
"I promise," Hermione smiled.
"Can we go now?" Draco interrupted impatiently.
"Yes, let's go."
"Be careful," Ron called after them.
Hermione safely tucked Ethan's folder under one arm as she hurried to keep up with Draco's long strides. "How are we going to get there?" she asked.
"Broom," Draco answered shortly. "It'll be fastest."
"Great," Hermione groaned inwardly, brooms not being her favourite mode of transportation.
Draco stopped them at the library door. "You'll have to meet me there, we can't be seen together."
Hermione nodded and counted to thirty before following.
Ron hoped that Hermione wasn't getting in over her head on this one as he watched her exit. He grabbed his school bag and decided to go to his room to change out of his uniform and see how his sister was doing tackling the monumental job of gaining Harry's ex-Gryffindor friends back.
* * * * * * * * *
Harry paced back and forth under the large willow tree by the lake; the water as smooth as glass and reflecting the grey sky above. His earlier anger had dissipated, leaving him feeling depressed and restless – not a good combination.
"Why won't they leave me alone?" he muttered, under his breath. "And why the hell was Draco there? What is he thinking..."
He threw himself down onto the packed earth beneath the large tree and leaned back against its thick trunk. He began to randomly rip out blades of grass and watch them get caught in the wind, flying off of his palm and scattering on the breeze.
Harry sighed and stopped to twirl one particularly long blade of grass between his thumb and forefinger. He stared at it, lost in thought.
"What would the world be like without me?" he wondered idly, and without emotion. "If only I didn't have that stupid prophecy to live up to...Without Voldemort, there's no need for me to even exist."
It was a sobering thought.
Harry tossed the piece of grass into the air and watched as it fluttered down a few feet away onto the lake's edge.
"Strange how the only thing keeping me here is the one thing I've feared and hated my entire life."
Still feeling on edge, Harry stood up and looked out over the calm expanse of water.
"Would I really be able to do it, though?" he wondered.
"Harry!"
Harry slowly turned his head and felt his blood run cold as Ethan fast approached - a look of fury marring his handsome features.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, as he came close.
Ethan lifted his arms and shoved Harry back against the tree, stepping up to keep him pinned in place. "Do you really need to ask?" he snarled, sarcastically.
"I don't underst-"
Harry was cut off by a sharp slap across the face.
"Think harder," Ethan commanded.
"I...I..." Harry stammered.
"Who were you with today, hmm?"
Harry paled and his pulse quickened in fear. "You...saw us?"
"No, I had to hear it from someone else."
"Who?"
"It doesn't matter!" Ethan shouted, furiously. "What matters is that you are sleeping around behind my back!"
"No, it's not like that," Harry tried to explain. "He just wanted to talk, but I didn't stay. I left as soon as I could-"
Ethan grabbed the front of Harry's cloak and slammed him back against the tree, then quickly darted his hand to Harry's exposed throat and wrapped his long fingers around the soft, sensitive flesh.
Harry gasped, eyes widening, as Ethan squeezed just enough to produce stars at the corner of his vision and reduce his flow of air. He choked and clawed at Ethan's strong grip, panicking as Ethan just smiled and watched in animalistic pleasure.
The sound of a group of students laughing and talking while exiting the school, finally caused Ethan to release his hold and step back.
Harry bent over and desperately drank in large gulps of air while holding his bruised throat.
"This isn't over, Harry," Ethan said, quietly. "We need to finish this...conversation later. Meet me in my room, and you had better show up."
Harry straightened and watched Ethan as he walked away. He drew in a shaky breath and stuffed his still trembling hands into his trouser pockets, ducking his head as the group of care-free students passed by.
They watched curiously as the famous Harry Potter suddenly ran off across the grounds towards the school, leapt up the stairs and banged through the heavy entrance doors.
Harry sprinted through the halls, tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision, as he hurtled past students and professors alike. He didn't stop until he was in the isolated safety of his dorm room.
He collapsed onto his bed and sobbed; great, big sobs that wracked his entire body and erupted from his throat. Tears coursed down his cheeks and fell onto his sheets as he lay there, feeling hopeless, feeling lost, and feeling afraid for his life.
He knew with certainty that if he went to Ethan's later, he wouldn't live through the night. And if he didn't go at all – he wouldn't live through tomorrow.
"Harry?"
Harry sat up and wiped his eyes, instinctively knowing who's voice that belonged to. "Ron."
Ron closed the door behind him, then cautiously approached Harry's bed and leaned against the wooden post. "Are you okay?"
Harry sniffed and shook his head, not meeting his gaze.
Ron tentatively sat on the edge of the bed beside him and watched his friend with sad eyes. "Please talk to me, Harry."
Harry looked up into Ron's concerned face and something inside of him finally broke free. "Oh, Ron," he cried, voice breaking. "It's all out of control."
Ron's eyes filled with tears as he threw his arms around Harry and hugged him for all he was worth. Harry cried into Ron's shoulder and returned the hug just as fiercely.
Ron rocked him back and forth, letting him cry for as long as he needed, his own tears still spilling from his eyes as he listened and murmured words of comfort and support.
"I don't know what to do," Harry choked, emotionally.
"I'll help you, Harry," Ron promised. "Just tell me what happened."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a ragged breath. "It's Ethan..."
"Yes?" Ron encouraged gently.
"He wants to see me tonight and...I think...he's...he's going to..."
"Hurt you?"
"Kill me."
Ron pulled away and looked Harry in the eye. "What? Are...are you serious?"
Harry nodded and put his head in his hands despondently.
"You have to stay here," Ron said, firmly. "Don't go to him."
"I can't stay here forever," Harry said, sadly.
"But you can't just walk off to your death!" Ron exclaimed, desperately.
"He'll find me, Ron. There's nothing I can do..."
"No." Ron shook his head. "There is something you can do – tell Dumbledore."
Harry's eyes widened in alarm. "No, I couldn't...he'll be so disappointed or disgusted..."
"You have to, Harry. Or I could do it for you...or I'll come with you while you do it. Please..."
"I'm so scared," Harry whispered. "I feel like I'm sinking farther and farther into something I have no control over. What if I've sunk too deep to get out again?"
"You will, Harry," Ron said, steadfastly. "I swear it."
Harry took a deep breath. "I...I'll try."
Ron's eyes lit with hope. "You will?"
Harry nodded nervously.
"Great. I know you can do this. Let's go."
"No!" Harry cried anxiously. "I don't want to leave Gryffindor Tower."
"Alright," Ron said, slowly. "I'll bring Dumbledore to you, then."
Harry smiled weakly and wiped his eyes. "Thanks."
Ron smiled reassuringly and stood up.
"Ron?"
He turned at the door and looked back. "Yeah?"
"How come you don't hate me?"
"You're my best friend," Ron stated, simply. "I can't be petty when you're in trouble. Besides, it's my chance to save you this time. Kinda feels good."
Harry smiled.
"I'll be right back," Ron promised with a smile. Then he was gone.
Harry tried to relax and lie still on his bed for awhile, but he kept tossing and turning, thinking about Dumbledore's reaction. Eventually, he had to stand and pace the room, wringing his hands anxiously.
A sudden knock at the door startled him.
"That was fast," he muttered.
He opened the door and was surprised to see Seamus standing there.
"Someone is at the door for you," he announced.
"Oh...thanks."
Harry felt the floor drop out from under him as he watched Seamus turn and walk back down to the common room. He knew with certainty, exactly who was waiting for him down those stairs.
"This is never going to end," he thought, miserably. "Unless I do it myself."
Harry took one last look around his dorm room – his home of the last six years of his life – then turned and slowly descended the stairs.
He was met by the sight of Ethan lounging in the doorway. Ethan smiled in greeting and Harry had to force his limbs to obey and walk over.
"Forget about our date?" Ethan asked, smiling icily.
Harry hated that smile. "No," he answered stiffly. "I'm coming."
"Good boy, I knew you would." Ethan stepped back and waited for Harry to follow him out into the corridor.
Harry took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold.
* * * * * * * * *
Draco landed gracefully near the end of Garner Street, at the edge of Ivodia Village; an all wizarding community similar to Hogsmeade. He climbed off of his borrowed broom and waited patiently as Hermione slowly descended to the ground next to him.
"I think I'll take the train back," she muttered, clambering unsteadily off of her broom and letting it fall to the earth with a thud.
"I guess you can't be great at everything," Draco smirked. "Of course, I am the exception to that rule."
"Really? Then how do you explain all the times Harry kicked your ass in quidditch?" Hermione countered.
"Oh my, such language, Granger." Draco shook his head in mock disapproval.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's go."
"Right." Draco shouldered his broom and started off up the deserted street.
"It's pretty quiet, isn't it?" Hermione whispered, looking around at the lack of activity.
"I am not going to say it."
"What?"
"Oh, come on, you know. That famous line in scary films that inevitably comes after one character says, 'it's so quiet.'"
"You mean, 'yes, a little too quiet.?'" Hermione laughed.
Draco groaned. "Muggle films are so corny."
"What do you know about Muggle films, Malfoy?"
"I know that most of them are sappy and predictable, or incredibly weird. Harry made me watch this one called 'The Matrix' – didn't understand a thing."
"So, are there any you do like?" Hermione asked, turning at the corner and continuing up an adjoining avenue.
"Well, I haven't seen enough to have a favourite or anything, but I did enjoy that 'Jurassic Park' one. It was fairly entertaining."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Didn't you and Harry watch anything other than action films?"
"I'll have you know that we watched half of 'Moulin Rouge', but the constant singing got on my nerves. I thing if Muggles stopped making musicals their suicide rate would be cut in half."
"Hey, I liked Moulin Rouge!" Hermione exclaimed, indignantly.
"Shh...this is it."
The two teenagers looked up at the house in front of them in surprise.
"I was half expecting either a giant mansion or a creepy shack," said Draco. "This is way too normal."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
Ethan's home was nothing more than a quaint, Victorian-style house. It was painted a bright white with blue shutters and pretty flower boxes beneath most of the windows. A large, wrap-around porch graced the front and side of the house, and a pale yellow porch swing sat to the left of the front door. Atop the roof perched a rooster-shaped weather vane.
"Get your wand ready," Hermione warned, as she knocked on the door.
Draco gripped his wand tightly within the confines of his cloak pocket. He tensed as the sound of a lock being released echoed from within.
The door swung open to reveal a sweet looking elderly woman; her grey hair was pulled back into a loose bun and she held a silver cooking sheet of freshly baked cookies in one hand.
Draco snorted and took his hand off of his wand.
The woman looked at them in confusion. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"Er...we're looking for Mr and Mrs Fiori," Hermione said hesitantly, glancing at Draco.
"Oh, you must be from Hogwarts." The woman broke into a smile.
"Yes." Hermione nodded. "Are you Mrs Fiori?"
"No, my name is Irene Fielding."
"We're...friends, of a student at Hogwarts, Ethan Fiori, and we were led to believe that he lived here."
"He does," the woman answered, brightly. "Won't you come in?"
"Er..thank you."
Draco and Hermione entered the foyer and quickly surveyed their surroundings; there was a small dining room to the left and an informal sitting room on the right. A staircase led up to the next level in the left-hand corner opposite them, and next to that was a hallway that led to what looked like a large, white kitchen.
"Come with me, children." The lady beckoned, cheerfully. "I need to get these cookies onto a rack to cool."
Draco raised a brow at the word, 'children,' as he walked on the polished, hard-wood floor into the kitchen. He and Hermione stood awkwardly by the counter as the woman began to transfer the cookies onto waiting metal racks.
"So, you know, Ethan?" Hermione finally asked.
"Oh, yes," Irene chuckled. "He's my son."
"But-"
"My adoptive son."
"Well, that explains a lot," Draco muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"It's just you here, then?" Hermione continued.
"Yes. Just me and mon petit garcon. My husband, Alec, past on four years ago."
"I'm sorry," Hermione offered sympathetically.
"It was hard," Irene admitted with a sigh. "I don't know what I would have done without, Ethan. He's been my pride and joy ever since."
"How long has he been living with you?" Draco asked, watching as she hung up her apron and removed her oven mitts.
"Oh, about five years now. Won't you sit down?"
Hermione and Draco moved to the round, wooden table and sat next to each other.
"Would you like a cookie?" Mrs Fielding asked with a smile.
"No, thank you," Hermione declined, politely. "What can you tell us about, Ethan?"
Irene picked up a cookie and joined them at the table. "What do you wish to know?"
"Well, what was he like as a child?"
Mrs Fielding smiled to herself as she bit into the oatmeal raisin cookie. "He was very quiet for a long time, didn't want to talk to me or my husband. I think he resented us at first."
"Resented?" Hermione questioned.
"Yes, you see his biological family was not what you would call 'normal.' They were into the bad magic's and all that." Irene paused and suddenly smiled again. "I think I need some milk. Are you kids thirsty?"
"No, thank you." Hermione watched her stand and walk over to the refrigerator. "Were his parents' pure-bloods?"
"Oh my, yes. Quite powerful too, I might say."
She took out a glass jug of milk and poured some into a small cup, immediately taking a sip before returning the container back to the fridge.
"Really?" Draco asked. "Then why have I never heard of the 'Fiori's' before?"
Irene sat back down and frowned slightly. "Because that's not his real name."
"It's not?" Draco leaned forward.
"No, he didn't want to take our name, and he wished to retain his French heritage, so he looked through lots of books and found 'Fiori' in a French novel."
"Why did he want to change it in the first place?"
"He didn't want people to connect him to his real family, and we agreed that it was the right course of action. He would've been ridiculed and teased, and he doesn't deserve that. He's a sweet boy."
Draco bit his tongue as Hermione glanced warningly at him.
"What is his real name?" Hermione asked, intently.
"I don't thing Ethan would want you to know that," she said, shaking her head.
"We don't care who his family is," Hermione was quick to reply. "This is Draco Malfoy, they can't be much worse than his family."
"Hey!" Draco exclaimed.
"Malfoy?" Mrs Fielding repeated, with a tilt of her head. "I've heard of you." She paused thoughtfully, eyeing Draco with interest. "Why don't you ask Ethan yourselves? I don't want to tell you without his permission. He's happy now. He's wanted to go to Hogwarts for the past few years, and I don't want to ruin anything for him."
"Why did he want to go to Hogwarts so badly?"
"I don't really know, he just got it into his head one day that he really wanted to go there. I think it was the day he read about that Tri-Wizard tournament. He liked the excitement of Hogwarts, it's always in the papers for something or other, and it has quite a prestigious history. Plus, his parents went there-"
Hermione and Draco shared a look.
"-we took Ethan to France to be schooled, thinking that was what he wanted, but he kept begging to come back here. My husband thought it best that he remain in France, but after his passing, I decided to give Ethan what he wanted and let him finish his last year here. I don't like to refuse my son anything. He's a sweet boy."
Draco was starting to think that Mrs Fielding had lost a few marbles along the way. "I'm sure Ethan wouldn't mind if you told us who his family is," he said, casually. "It'll give us something in common, something to talk about."
"That is true," Irene conceded, slowly. "I suppose you have the right to know. Especially you, young Malfoy."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco questioned. "He's not my long lost brother or something, is he?"
"No," Irene smiled. "But I believe you are related to him through your mother's side..."
Draco frowned as he thought hard, searching his memory for what he knew of his extensive family tree. Then all of a sudden it dawned on him.
"Lestrange," he breathed out in realization. "He's a Lestrange, isn't he?"
Mrs Fielding nodded.
Draco sat back in his chair in shock.
"Do you have any pictures of Ethan when he was little?" Hermione asked, quickly.
Irene brightened instantly. "Of course, excuse me for a minute."
Hermione waited until Mrs Fielding had left the room before turning to Draco. "I can't believe this..."
"I'm related to him..." Draco trailed off in disbelief.
"And what does all this have to do with Harry?" Hermione wondered, anxiously.
"I wish I knew..."
Mrs Fielding returned, carrying a large, blue photo album. She proceeded to sit herself down next to Hermione and flip it open to the first page.
"Uh, excuse me," Draco interrupted, standing. "Where's the toilet?"
"Just down the hall, under the stairs."
"Thanks." Draco smiled, then walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. He reached the bathroom door and glanced back – Hermione and Mrs Fielding were almost hidden from view and completely ensconced in the photograph album.
Draco quickly turned and strode into the foyer and up the stairs, treading delicately on each step so as not to make a sound. He reached the upstairs landing and saw four doors; two closed and two open. The open doors showed another restroom and, what appeared to be, a guest bedroom. He carefully opened one of the closed doors and peeked inside. It was painted a pale, mocha brown and had a Hogwarts poster tacked up on the wall.
Draco quickly slipped inside and closed the door.
The room was impeccably neat; clothes hung in the closet, bed made, and floor spotless.
He walked over to the closet and stood on his tip-toes to see the high shelves. There were three shoe boxes and a medium-sized gym bag sitting neatly on them. He pulled down the boxes and set them on the bed, then dragged down the gym bag, but discovered that it was empty and threw it back.
The first box contained toys, very old and beginning to disintegrate. There was a stuffed dragon, a spinning top decorated with tiny stars, and a plastic wand. Also, some cards and other non-important rubbish.
Draco placed the lid back on and opened the next one. Inside was a pair of shoes.
He closed that one and went on to the last. Inside were Ethan's adoption papers, a few loose photographs of him with the Fieldings', and two wands – real wands.
Draco picked them up and looked at them.
Rashly, he decided to pocket them and put the boxes away.
He was about to leave when something told him to look under the bed.
So, he knelt down and lifted the cream-coloured bed skirt. Nothing.
Draco let it fall back into place and stood up, then noticed some paper sticking out from between the mattresses. Curiously, he bent over and slid his hands underneath, and lifted the mattress all the way up.
Draco gasped.
Laid out over the entire mattress was a collage of newspaper articles and pictures, all of which contained Harry's name and face. He stared in shock at the sight in front of him, his eyes flitting from one photograph to another.
Harry's picture smiled up at him and waved.
Feeling sick, Draco lowered the mattress back down and turned away from the twisted mural. He left Ethan's room and dazedly walked back to the kitchen.
"Are you alright, dear?" Mrs Fielding asked in concern, noting his pale face.
"Not really," Draco swallowed. "I think I'd better get back to school."
Hermione stood up and frowned worriedly, as Draco turned and headed for the front door.
"Thank you for everything." Hermione smiled gratefully at Mrs Fielding.
"Your welcome, honey." She smiled in return, following Hermione to the door. "Tell Ethan that he's still welcome to come home for Christmas if he changes his mind. It'll be his first Christmas away from home and I'm a little worried that he might get homesick over there by himself."
"Don't worry, we'll be there for him," Hermione assured her. "Goodbye."
Hermione waved and ran to catch up to Draco on the sidewalk. "What happened?"
"I found Ethan's bedroom..."
"And?"
"He had all these newspaper articles and pictures of Harry hidden under his mattress," Draco said in disgust, feeling nauseous again at the memory.
"Oh, god..." Hermione expelled in shock. "We have to get back."
"I need to go to Diagon Alley first," Draco said, snapping out of his daze and stepping over his broom handle.
"Why?" Hermione asked, picking up her broom from where they had left them earlier.
"I found two wands in his closet and I think they belonged to Ethan's parents – his real parents. I'm going to take them to Ollivander's to find out. If they are the Lestrange's wands, then we have to give them over to the Ministry."
He pushed off of the ground and Hermione soon joined him in the air.
"I'm impressed," she said, flying beside him.
"Why?"
"Because you want to hand over the Lestrange's wands to the Ministry."
"Why wouldn't I? What would I do with them?"
"Give them to your father. I figured you'd do anything to gain his approval."
"You don't know me as much as you think you do," Draco replied, coldly.
"I guess not," Hermione murmured, glancing at him.
Diagon Alley was busy; packed with holiday shoppers and kids on Christmas break.
Hermione walked a few feet behind Draco as they headed for Ollivander's, careful not to be seen together.
The bell jingled pleasantly over the door as Draco pushed inside the old wand shop. He hadn't been inside since that day when he was eleven, choosing his own wand with childish excitement. It was also the first time he ever saw Harry.
"Mr Malfoy, what a surprise."
Draco turned and saw Mr Ollivander coming out from between the tall shelves of dusty wand boxes.
"I was wondering if you could help me with something," Draco started, stepping forward. "Could you tell me who these wands belong to?"
Mr Ollivander walked over and reached for the two wands. He lifted them into the light and inspected them with narrowed eyes. "Where did you find these?"
"Er.."
At that moment, Hermione stepped into the shop and hurried over.
"So, what did you find out?" she asked, breathlessly.
"Miss Granger?" Mr Ollivander raised a brow, looking between the two students.
"Do you know who they belong to?" she asked, ignoring the questioning gaze.
"I should say so," Mr Ollivander said, clearing his throat. "I sold them both myself, and I never forget a wand. They both happen to belong to wizards who are now deceased."
"What? But-"
"This one belonged to a man named Alec Fielding. He died about four or five years ago, if I'm not mistaken."
"Irene's husband." Hermione nodded.
"And the other?" Draco asked.
"This one is not quite as old as the other," Mr Ollivander informed with a touch of sadness, squinting at the smooth wooden surface of the wand. "It belonged to a man named Remus Lupin."
* * * * * * * * *
Ron paced back and forth outside the Entrance doors to Hogwarts, scanning the darkening sky anxiously for any sign of Hermione and Draco.
"Ron!"
Ron turned to his right and saw Hermione and Draco rushing towards him from around the side of the school, brooms still clutched in their hands.
He leapt down the stairs and met them halfway.
"Ron, you won't believe-" Hermione panted.
"Never mind that," Ron cut across her, frantically. "Harry's missing."
His words were met by a stunned silence.