So, first off, I hate this but I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the Harry Potter series. I thought I would let you know.
Beautiful Enigma this chapter is for you. Sorry I didn't leave you much to go by. The name Arienette comes from a song by Bright Eyes called Arienette. This to it, it will mangle your mind. Vasily comes from year 11 modern history. Vasily was Stalin's son, I really love the name.
Sorry about this.
Draco couldn't say he loved his son. The one reminder of a man he loved, a man he shouldn't have loved. He had had a wonderful, caring husband and should never have loved anyone but him, even after his death. The drinking didn't block the thoughts, but it did help to numb the feeling. His four legitimate children could see the change from happy, loving father to depressed smuck. Vasily hadn't. This smuck was his father. He knew no different. Poor bastard.
Draco wasn't stupid, he could see the effects of his parenting on this kid. Vasily was out most nights, generally drunk; his first suicide attempt came at 8 years old, the second at 11 and the third at 13. The boy was better off with his other father, but no, they had made an agreement to take one each and never see each other again. There was the occasional update on their children's lives.
Draco wondered what Vasily's life would have been like if he had lived with his other father. He would have been happier there; he knew that much. He also pondered what life would have been like had he kept both children. He shook his head and ridded himself of the nauseating thoughts. He was no longer a child-friendly person.
Severus and Draco had always planned on one more child. Draco got his child, but not the one he planned.
Harry loved his daughter; Arienette was what he woke in the morning for. His saving grace. His shy little angel. Shy was an understatement. The girl was unhealthily introverted, except around her father.
Harry worried about her. She had one friend who she hardly saw. The girl wasn't agoraphobic; she was out of the house a lot, but always by herself.
Harry was disappointed at himself; he couldn't give his daughter what she really needed. A proper family. He had a feeling this would, at least partly cure her introversion. He had dating several men and women. Nothing ever worked out. Of course, having to see the man he really wanted in the smile or shiny silver of Arienette's eyes didn't help. Draco, he missed and loved with all of his being. He also missed the tiny infant son he left behind. He would have given anything to see his little Vasily. Draco never told him anything about their son; he only ever got pictures, which he had to beg for.
Harry had planned a perfect life with Draco. The two together with their twins. Draco didn't love him. He made that very clear. He was still mourning Snape. Harry got half of the family he planned.
Hermione Granger held her husband, Ron Weasley's hand tightly. The sun was high, bright and hot in the sky as the walk up the lush walkway to visit their godson. Vasily was 16; the black-haired, emerald-eyed son of their best friend, Harry Potter and of course Draco Malfoy.
Vasily had no idea of Harry or the existence of his twin sister, Arienette. It was hard for Hermione to keep them secret. The idea of keeping the children and fathers apart was idiotic and the effects on both of the children were obvious. Of course the fact that Draco was an alcoholic didn't help the poor boy. But Hermione and Ron checked on the two whenever they could.
They opened the large oak doors letting themselves in, as was the norm. The house elves, Hermione begrudgingly noted, kept the manor spotless.
"Draco? Vasily?" Ron called out. They were answered by a tired groan.
.Draco was drunk again.
As usual Hermione would be expected to clean the pathetic man up and fetch him the proper painkilling potions. She went to work straight away gathering cloths, potions and clean clothes. She prayed Vasily wasn't home and thanked god that even though Draco was an angry drunk, he was not a violent one.
Ron was standing over Draco, who was lying awkwardly on the couch. Vodka bottles surrounded the drunken slob and the coffee table beside him was littered in paper and a photo. Hermione bent down and picked up the photo. I was her goddaughter. The girl's black hair covered most of her face as she fought the wind, but her silver eyes still shone, scarily through.
"I wish you would stop this, Draco," Hermione whispered, careful not to aggravate Draco's already fierce headache.
"Well maybe if he didn't send all these fucking photos," Draco spat.
Hermione stared at the single photo thoughtfully. She shoved the potion into his hands.
"I don't need it. Vasily already brought me some, but knowing that boy it was probably poisoned," he said, sleepily.
"Oh Draco, you idiot!" Hermione ran to Vasily's bedroom door.
She knocked, "Vasily let me in!"
Photos were strewn across Vasily's bed. His father's eyes, his eye's stared up at him. But they weren't his father's eye, weren't his eyes. He knew exactly who these people were. Well one of them.
A man. He looked around the same age as his father. He had Vasily's messy black hair, his emerald eyes. He wore glasses though. Vasily had always known that he had another father, sometimes he liked to wonder what he would be like, but years of his father's rants had taught him not to ever expect to see him. He would never want to see Vasily.
The girl was like the female version of Vasily, but with Draco's eyes. Silver.
Fuck. This was all too much.
.stop.breath.stop.breath.stop.breath.stop.breath.stop.breath.stop.breath.stop.breath.
.it wasn't working vasilys mind was racing and he couldn't stop the pain the took over his head.
He opened his draw and pulled out his razor. He feel back with it on his bed. The blade was pushed down onto his arm and blood seeped out. It was a little more than Vasily expected but he continued to make deeper cuts all over his arm until it was numb from blood loss.
He stopped.
Staring at the dripping blood calmed him down. His stress was gone. The blood dripped onto the girl and ran down her face.
"Vasily let me in!" Hermione was banging on his door.
A piece of paper appeared from under the door. Hermione bent down and unfolded the paper. A photograph fell out. The paper held the words, "What's her name?"
Hermione looked down at the photo on the ground of at the black-haired girl. A spot of blood covered her face.