The boy prowled around the room restlessly. The boy reached a hand up and swiped viciously at the dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. Every so often, he would freeze, glance up, and his mouth would open, but then he would resolutely shut his mouth again and resume his pacing. His green eyes were as hard as the emerald, as bright and as enchanting because of the flickering emotions burning in them.
The second boy remained seated in a chair by the fire, and he was absently shaking a cocktail glass. The second boy was handsomely fair - pale, perfectly shaped lips, elegantly winged eyebrows, and frosty light blond hair. He stared at the liquid and then tossed the glass into the fire, which gave a small leap of flames. He was sprawled in the chair, somehow making the posture seem both graceful and exultant. He cast a lazy, abstracted gaze at the boy, who had become even more nervous. The second boy, with his flinty gray eyes, made no move to prompt the words the other boy was so reluctant to spill. So they both said nothing.
Harry Potter finally stopped moving and sank onto the windowsill. His black hair was stark against the white of the swirling snow against that hurtled against the window. His face was buried in his hands, and his lean frame was wracked with exhaustion.
"I need a favor." His voice was muffled.
Draco Malfoy's silver gaze flicked vaguely in his direction, but he was silent.
"I need you to safeguard something for me," the Boy Who Lived continued. He stared blindly out into the empty white space outside. There was a break in his voice. "I need - it's something very important to me."
"Why?" Draco stretched out his long legs in front of him. At Harry's confused look, he clarified, "Why ask me for help?"
Harry turned away. "Because no one would think to suspect you. No one would think to look - here. And if they did, you wouldn't let them."
"I wouldn't," Draco repeated flatly. "You think you know me so well, Potter?"
"You saved me," Harry said hoarsely. "You saved my life."
"It was a reflex." The boy rose and wandered over to the floor to ceiling windows. He remained a conscious distance away. "All right. You want to think the best of me, go ahead. I saved you. You want something. I think you should know that you've got it all wrong; I should be the one asking for things."
"If you want to be that way…I saved your life, too."
"Get over it. It was an accident that you saved my life. Your blasted Weasley friend said it, you're close to admitting it, I know it."
Harry said nothing. Draco sighed.
"What?" the blond haired boy demanded finally. "Out with it."
"I have a…son."
If he had still been drinking the martini, he would have spit it all out in an incredible display of indignity. As it was, he managed to contain the jolt of shock that seemed to paralyze him. The ability to conceal his reflexive emotions came with years of practice and would not be so easily cast away.
Chasing away many imperative and relevant questions, he asked instead, "Who?"
Harry blanched and echoed faintly, "Who?"
"Whose child? It takes two to tango. You're eighteen years old and you have a son, and I want to know by whom." He curbed the rush of angry words that had pushed themselves to the tip of his tongue.
"I - can't say."
"Can't or won't," Draco said impassively.
"Both." Harry's voice was a whisper. "I can't completely explain that…but Dumbledore suggested that I hide for awhile. Until the war really starts. It won't be for that long, but I'll probably be on the move a lot, and I just can't - I can't - " He steadied himself with visible effort. "His mother…she can't take care of him. Neither can I. And it's not safe for him - "
"How old is he?" Draco interrupted.
"One year old."
"My God. That is very…" He searched for a word. "Amazing."
"Yes. You have no idea. I was there, when he was born. I thought that maybe everything really does have a point…" Harry let his words fade. "Will you do it? Will you hide him?"
"Can I just say that your explanation was as vaguer than hell? If you're trying to shove your son into my house, then you must be in some serious shit. And if you're trying to hide him, it's natural to assume that someone would try to harm your son. And I would like to know why and what in advance," Draco said dryly, brushing aside the heavy drapery. "Be a little more specific."
Harry gritted his teeth, and when he spoke again, his voice was distant, hard, and matter-of-fact. "There is a traitor among us. Voldemort knows about my son. Voldemort doesn't know you saved my life."
"Very nice logistics you have there, Potter." Draco applauded softly. "I can completely follow your train of thought. You took a big jump in your thinking, apparently. Or you were drunk." He tempered the sarcasm in his voice. "You haven't asked me what was on my agenda, you know. I assure you, taking care of a one-year old would not fit well. By the way, I heard about your restrictions to the castle. Does Dumbledore know about your little excursion?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "I don't want him to know. I don't want anyone to know. No one knows about this other than you and I. No one knows I'm here."
"Very daring. You're either a complete believer in me, or you're very stupid. Or drunk," he added thoughtfully. "How dangerous for you to be on the grounds of a Death Eater…"
Harry's face remained unmoving, but he swallowed hard. "You're not a Death Eater, Malfoy, and that attempt to intimidate me is wasted. You never scared me at school; do you really think you'd scare me now?"
"Suppose not," Draco shrugged carelessly.
Harry hesitated. "What did you plan on doing?"
"Leaving the country. I'd probably stay in Europe though. Italy. France. Switzerland. Greece. Safe, familiar places. Anywhere's better than here. I've done my part in this war. We're just waiting on you now," he said sardonically.
Harry watched him carefully; all he could see was the other boy's profile. "You could do more."
"Do I want to? Do I care anymore? No, I don't. You're the hero, Potter not me. Nor do I wish to be. The heralding trumpets and drum rolls annoy me. Now, the free rein to do anything and do no wrong is appealing. The weeping women, the men kneeling at my feet - well, that I'm used to."
"I don't have women - men kneeling at my feet," Harry sputtered.
Draco smiled lazily. "Just joking, Potter."
"You changed the subject. Why are you leaving England? The battle will be here; everyone knows that. No one cares that you - "
"Do you have a point, Potter?" Draco's voice overrode Harry's.
"You don't have to run."
"I'm not running. It's just a little selective ducking," said Draco laconically.
"Will you do it?"
He exhaled and wished he still had his drink. He wished that he smoked; he'd heard it calmed the nerves.
Harry was fidgeting. "Well?"
"Shut up. I'm thinking."
A long while later, Harry cleared his throat. "Are you asleep? Look. I'm sorry I pushed you on this. But I don't know who else - "
"I'll do it," he cut in abruptly. "I'll 'safeguard' your son."
An immense weight was suddenly lifted off of Harry's shoulders, and his face carried all the relief one could ever feel on his face. Draco looked away, annoyed.
"Thank you," Harry said fervently. "Thanks, Malfoy. I - "
"Shut up. I heard you." After a hesitation, he muttered, "What's his name?"
"William Jamie Potter."
"How long is this going to be for?"
Undetermined. As short as possible, Harry wanted to say. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. "Three years. About."
"I know nothing about caring for babies," Draco informed him.
"It's what I assumed." Harry half smiled, the first smile of any degree he'd had since he arrived at Malfoy Manor two hours earlier. "But I know someone who does. She'll be going with you. It's better for her, as well. Well - she can take care of herself, but she needs to be protected. She's important, Dumbledore said. I can believe it."
"That wasn't what you said earlier," Draco said, fighting to control his irritation and impatience. "You neglected to mention this would become a three person party."
Harry just looked at him.
"What?" Draco snapped. And then, "Oh, goddamn. Who the hell is it?"
"She's a Healer. You know how rare - "
"I know how rare. Who."
"She knows how to take care of Will - " Harry saw Draco's quelling glare and relented. "Ginny Weasley."
"Weasley," Draco stated unequivocally.
"You said you didn't care for Pureblood and all that anymore," Harry reminded him, finally moving away from the window to pace in front of the fireplace.
"I don't."
Harry darted a wondering glance at him, his green eyes searching Draco's paler face. "Is there something I'm missing?"
"Why does she need to be protected?"
"She's a Healer - "
"Potter, I bloody know that. That's not a good enough answer."
"She's targeted by Voldemort. There have been over eighteen Death Eater attacks aimed at her - at her, through her friends, her family, her acquaintances. Know how many Death Eaters have tried to attack me? Seven."
"You jealous?"
Harry darted a glare at him. "Don't be stupid."
"Not surprising though," Draco said thoughtfully. "They're saving you for the last of it. And you're too heavily guarded."
"Don't change the subject." Harry frowned. "Is - "
"Nothing that's of your concern," Draco said shortly. "Fine. She can come, as long as she stays out of my way. I find that very fair, considering I'm paying for her round trip to Europe's finest. Does her family know?"
"Not really. No one will know where she's going except Dumbledore, you, and myself. And," Harry hesitated. "I don't want her to know Will is my son. Don't tell her."
"What am I supposed to tell her then?" Draco demanded irritably. "Really, you're a pain in the ass, Potter. Do you think you could be a little more ridiculous? I'm going to be lugging a one year old and a Weasley around for Merlin knows how long and I'm supposed to tell her what?"
"You're a good liar, I trust you well enough to think of something believable," said Harry smartly. After a moment, his voice was serious and pained. "Tell her he's your son."
"Potter, I've never seen your kid, but I highly doubt he could pass for my son."
"People only see what they want to see. Tell her that." Harry looked like every word was killing him.
"So. Let's recap. You want me to call your son mine and fly him and a Weasley around Europe for three years."
"It doesn't have to be Europe. But, yeah," Harry nodded. "Three years from tomorrow, we'll meet - we'll meet where we first met - you remember where?"
"Oh yes," Draco's voice was factual. "I believe we met when I was being suited for robes in our first year. If something prevents us - or you, which is far more likely in my opinion - from getting there, what do you want to do about it?"
"Find some way to get to me. And Malfoy - if I die - " Draco observed dispassionately that Harry's voice was firm, although he looked rather ill. " - if I die, his mother will go in my place. I'll have made sure she'll have known what happened by then. Malfoy…if I'm late - wait for me there."
Draco looked sideways at him. "You know that you'll regret this right?"
Harry drew in a deep breath and said stiffly, "I have to make choices."
He continued to look at Harry's stricken face. He laced his fingers together behind his head and shrugged. "Suit yourself. Send the both of them over tomorrow night. I'll take care of the rest."
Harry stepped across the room and drew his shimmering Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders with a trembling hand.
"Accio Firebolt," Draco said softly, and Harry's broom leapt into his hand from the stuffed chair. He held it briefly, looked at it, and tossed it to Harry. The former Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team still retained his honed reflexes; Harry's hand snapped out and caught the broom deftly as he stared at Draco. The second boy nodded at him before physically turning away.
"See you in three years, Potter."
The second boy remained seated in a chair by the fire, and he was absently shaking a cocktail glass. The second boy was handsomely fair - pale, perfectly shaped lips, elegantly winged eyebrows, and frosty light blond hair. He stared at the liquid and then tossed the glass into the fire, which gave a small leap of flames. He was sprawled in the chair, somehow making the posture seem both graceful and exultant. He cast a lazy, abstracted gaze at the boy, who had become even more nervous. The second boy, with his flinty gray eyes, made no move to prompt the words the other boy was so reluctant to spill. So they both said nothing.
Harry Potter finally stopped moving and sank onto the windowsill. His black hair was stark against the white of the swirling snow against that hurtled against the window. His face was buried in his hands, and his lean frame was wracked with exhaustion.
"I need a favor." His voice was muffled.
Draco Malfoy's silver gaze flicked vaguely in his direction, but he was silent.
"I need you to safeguard something for me," the Boy Who Lived continued. He stared blindly out into the empty white space outside. There was a break in his voice. "I need - it's something very important to me."
"Why?" Draco stretched out his long legs in front of him. At Harry's confused look, he clarified, "Why ask me for help?"
Harry turned away. "Because no one would think to suspect you. No one would think to look - here. And if they did, you wouldn't let them."
"I wouldn't," Draco repeated flatly. "You think you know me so well, Potter?"
"You saved me," Harry said hoarsely. "You saved my life."
"It was a reflex." The boy rose and wandered over to the floor to ceiling windows. He remained a conscious distance away. "All right. You want to think the best of me, go ahead. I saved you. You want something. I think you should know that you've got it all wrong; I should be the one asking for things."
"If you want to be that way…I saved your life, too."
"Get over it. It was an accident that you saved my life. Your blasted Weasley friend said it, you're close to admitting it, I know it."
Harry said nothing. Draco sighed.
"What?" the blond haired boy demanded finally. "Out with it."
"I have a…son."
If he had still been drinking the martini, he would have spit it all out in an incredible display of indignity. As it was, he managed to contain the jolt of shock that seemed to paralyze him. The ability to conceal his reflexive emotions came with years of practice and would not be so easily cast away.
Chasing away many imperative and relevant questions, he asked instead, "Who?"
Harry blanched and echoed faintly, "Who?"
"Whose child? It takes two to tango. You're eighteen years old and you have a son, and I want to know by whom." He curbed the rush of angry words that had pushed themselves to the tip of his tongue.
"I - can't say."
"Can't or won't," Draco said impassively.
"Both." Harry's voice was a whisper. "I can't completely explain that…but Dumbledore suggested that I hide for awhile. Until the war really starts. It won't be for that long, but I'll probably be on the move a lot, and I just can't - I can't - " He steadied himself with visible effort. "His mother…she can't take care of him. Neither can I. And it's not safe for him - "
"How old is he?" Draco interrupted.
"One year old."
"My God. That is very…" He searched for a word. "Amazing."
"Yes. You have no idea. I was there, when he was born. I thought that maybe everything really does have a point…" Harry let his words fade. "Will you do it? Will you hide him?"
"Can I just say that your explanation was as vaguer than hell? If you're trying to shove your son into my house, then you must be in some serious shit. And if you're trying to hide him, it's natural to assume that someone would try to harm your son. And I would like to know why and what in advance," Draco said dryly, brushing aside the heavy drapery. "Be a little more specific."
Harry gritted his teeth, and when he spoke again, his voice was distant, hard, and matter-of-fact. "There is a traitor among us. Voldemort knows about my son. Voldemort doesn't know you saved my life."
"Very nice logistics you have there, Potter." Draco applauded softly. "I can completely follow your train of thought. You took a big jump in your thinking, apparently. Or you were drunk." He tempered the sarcasm in his voice. "You haven't asked me what was on my agenda, you know. I assure you, taking care of a one-year old would not fit well. By the way, I heard about your restrictions to the castle. Does Dumbledore know about your little excursion?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "I don't want him to know. I don't want anyone to know. No one knows about this other than you and I. No one knows I'm here."
"Very daring. You're either a complete believer in me, or you're very stupid. Or drunk," he added thoughtfully. "How dangerous for you to be on the grounds of a Death Eater…"
Harry's face remained unmoving, but he swallowed hard. "You're not a Death Eater, Malfoy, and that attempt to intimidate me is wasted. You never scared me at school; do you really think you'd scare me now?"
"Suppose not," Draco shrugged carelessly.
Harry hesitated. "What did you plan on doing?"
"Leaving the country. I'd probably stay in Europe though. Italy. France. Switzerland. Greece. Safe, familiar places. Anywhere's better than here. I've done my part in this war. We're just waiting on you now," he said sardonically.
Harry watched him carefully; all he could see was the other boy's profile. "You could do more."
"Do I want to? Do I care anymore? No, I don't. You're the hero, Potter not me. Nor do I wish to be. The heralding trumpets and drum rolls annoy me. Now, the free rein to do anything and do no wrong is appealing. The weeping women, the men kneeling at my feet - well, that I'm used to."
"I don't have women - men kneeling at my feet," Harry sputtered.
Draco smiled lazily. "Just joking, Potter."
"You changed the subject. Why are you leaving England? The battle will be here; everyone knows that. No one cares that you - "
"Do you have a point, Potter?" Draco's voice overrode Harry's.
"You don't have to run."
"I'm not running. It's just a little selective ducking," said Draco laconically.
"Will you do it?"
He exhaled and wished he still had his drink. He wished that he smoked; he'd heard it calmed the nerves.
Harry was fidgeting. "Well?"
"Shut up. I'm thinking."
A long while later, Harry cleared his throat. "Are you asleep? Look. I'm sorry I pushed you on this. But I don't know who else - "
"I'll do it," he cut in abruptly. "I'll 'safeguard' your son."
An immense weight was suddenly lifted off of Harry's shoulders, and his face carried all the relief one could ever feel on his face. Draco looked away, annoyed.
"Thank you," Harry said fervently. "Thanks, Malfoy. I - "
"Shut up. I heard you." After a hesitation, he muttered, "What's his name?"
"William Jamie Potter."
"How long is this going to be for?"
Undetermined. As short as possible, Harry wanted to say. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. "Three years. About."
"I know nothing about caring for babies," Draco informed him.
"It's what I assumed." Harry half smiled, the first smile of any degree he'd had since he arrived at Malfoy Manor two hours earlier. "But I know someone who does. She'll be going with you. It's better for her, as well. Well - she can take care of herself, but she needs to be protected. She's important, Dumbledore said. I can believe it."
"That wasn't what you said earlier," Draco said, fighting to control his irritation and impatience. "You neglected to mention this would become a three person party."
Harry just looked at him.
"What?" Draco snapped. And then, "Oh, goddamn. Who the hell is it?"
"She's a Healer. You know how rare - "
"I know how rare. Who."
"She knows how to take care of Will - " Harry saw Draco's quelling glare and relented. "Ginny Weasley."
"Weasley," Draco stated unequivocally.
"You said you didn't care for Pureblood and all that anymore," Harry reminded him, finally moving away from the window to pace in front of the fireplace.
"I don't."
Harry darted a wondering glance at him, his green eyes searching Draco's paler face. "Is there something I'm missing?"
"Why does she need to be protected?"
"She's a Healer - "
"Potter, I bloody know that. That's not a good enough answer."
"She's targeted by Voldemort. There have been over eighteen Death Eater attacks aimed at her - at her, through her friends, her family, her acquaintances. Know how many Death Eaters have tried to attack me? Seven."
"You jealous?"
Harry darted a glare at him. "Don't be stupid."
"Not surprising though," Draco said thoughtfully. "They're saving you for the last of it. And you're too heavily guarded."
"Don't change the subject." Harry frowned. "Is - "
"Nothing that's of your concern," Draco said shortly. "Fine. She can come, as long as she stays out of my way. I find that very fair, considering I'm paying for her round trip to Europe's finest. Does her family know?"
"Not really. No one will know where she's going except Dumbledore, you, and myself. And," Harry hesitated. "I don't want her to know Will is my son. Don't tell her."
"What am I supposed to tell her then?" Draco demanded irritably. "Really, you're a pain in the ass, Potter. Do you think you could be a little more ridiculous? I'm going to be lugging a one year old and a Weasley around for Merlin knows how long and I'm supposed to tell her what?"
"You're a good liar, I trust you well enough to think of something believable," said Harry smartly. After a moment, his voice was serious and pained. "Tell her he's your son."
"Potter, I've never seen your kid, but I highly doubt he could pass for my son."
"People only see what they want to see. Tell her that." Harry looked like every word was killing him.
"So. Let's recap. You want me to call your son mine and fly him and a Weasley around Europe for three years."
"It doesn't have to be Europe. But, yeah," Harry nodded. "Three years from tomorrow, we'll meet - we'll meet where we first met - you remember where?"
"Oh yes," Draco's voice was factual. "I believe we met when I was being suited for robes in our first year. If something prevents us - or you, which is far more likely in my opinion - from getting there, what do you want to do about it?"
"Find some way to get to me. And Malfoy - if I die - " Draco observed dispassionately that Harry's voice was firm, although he looked rather ill. " - if I die, his mother will go in my place. I'll have made sure she'll have known what happened by then. Malfoy…if I'm late - wait for me there."
Draco looked sideways at him. "You know that you'll regret this right?"
Harry drew in a deep breath and said stiffly, "I have to make choices."
He continued to look at Harry's stricken face. He laced his fingers together behind his head and shrugged. "Suit yourself. Send the both of them over tomorrow night. I'll take care of the rest."
Harry stepped across the room and drew his shimmering Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders with a trembling hand.
"Accio Firebolt," Draco said softly, and Harry's broom leapt into his hand from the stuffed chair. He held it briefly, looked at it, and tossed it to Harry. The former Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team still retained his honed reflexes; Harry's hand snapped out and caught the broom deftly as he stared at Draco. The second boy nodded at him before physically turning away.
"See you in three years, Potter."
