Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and the licensed copyright holders including Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros., Inc. I make no claims to Vauxhall either. No money has been exchanged and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: A word about ratings...if I've written it and it's rated T, it means it's most likely going to rely on implied sexual situations and will count as non-graphic slash. In my view, M ratings are for more explicit situations, older audiences and exceedingly violent or disturbing subject matter. That's just my thought on it...

Standard warnings: Slash, mpreg, fluffiness. The Astra is an awesome ride, according to my brother who just got one. I thought I'd plug it for those in the market! I hope you're all still enjoying this story. I've had a blast writing and reading your comments and responding to them.

Speaking of comments, I got my 20 reviews last week so this is the additional chapter you lot were promised. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I do appreciate them, much more than I can say. Please keep sending your comments my way.

8.

He stood in front of his wardrobe topless, a perfectly detailed Swedish Short-snout pendant with pale sapphire eyes glinted on an unbreakable platinum chain around his neck. He'd worn it since the summer of his 6th year at Hogwarts and never removed it. "So you'll always have a dragon warming your heart" his lover had said, clasping the chain around his neck. It was a promise then—that someday they'd be together openly; they'd defy any who stood against them and proclaim their love for all to see. It was a promise now—that even if he could never make amends, he could strive to make peace between them, could beg a chance to explain the cruel words spoken. He knew now that their "rule" was more than just adolescent fumbling and that he was forsworn. They'd promised never to lie to each other.

And Merlin, did I lie.

The reasons seemed meaningless now, no matter how well intentioned there were at the time.

He'd broken his vow, his lover's heart and his own. But maybe there was a chance for redemption or at least forgiveness and he would give all he owned to take that chance. Losing patience with himself he grabbed a delicate royal blue silk v-neck tee yanked it over his head and tucked it into his back jeans. He made a quick dash to the bath squeezed a bit of gel into his hand and ran it through his hair going for messily styled instead of unmanageable mop. He was nearly satisfied with his appearance when Hermione called from downstairs. Quickly he grabbed the sapphire stud that matched the short-snout's eyes, a graduation gift from his lover, pushed it through his earlobe and ran down the stairs.

"For Merlin's sake Mione! Stop shouting, I'm ready."

His best friend grinned, "You look hot!"

He shook his head, "Thanks, but I'm not out to impress you, though can I say you look rather swank this evening as well."

Hermione giggled and twirled around in her ivory ruffle dress with celadon and gold accents. "Thanks. Think Ron'll notice?"

Harry's mouth dropped open, "Ron's coming?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Of course Ron is coming. He's your best friend and you need the moral support."

Harry grimaced, "Ron Weasley. Ron-who hates all things Malfoy. That Ron?"

Hermione swatted his arm, "It'll be okay Harry. I'll keep him on a short leash tonight." She sighed sadly, "Besides you may not get a chance to see him privately at all. Ron did his best; he pulled all kinds of strings. We've got front row seats, but the show is sold out. There'll be thousands of people there tonight. I don't want you to get your hopes up too high."

Harry nodded; she wasn't saying anything he hadn't already thought through…repeatedly…painfully. After all what did he have to go on? Memories of a passionate love snuffed out by his own stupidity before it's time and a desperate hope that he could rekindle at least friendship with the man who so wholly owned his heart. He sighed as Hermione stepped out the door and picked up the bouquet of white roses charmed to never wilt and the single sterling rose similarly charmed. A strip of parchment was wrapped round the sterling rose's stem and held in place with sticking charm and a platinum ring. The Potter and Malfoy family crests were etched on either side of the round centred diamond. He ran his fingers over the band. The night he'd given it to Draco was one of his most cherished memories. And when the morning of the final battle dawned he'd found it laying on the pillow where his lover had been just hours before.

Before he knew it he found himself in the rear of Hermione's Vauxhall Astra headed for the concert. He'd tried making conversation with Hermione but found he'd tune out at the most inopportune times but then going a few rounds with Ron wasn't helping either:

"You sure about this mate?"

"Yes."

"We're talking about the ferret Harry."

"Don't call him that. And I love him."

"He left you."

"I pushed him away."

"You're sure you want to see him tonight. We could run up to Jillian's and play darts instead."

"We're going to the concert Ron."

"Oi, I know…and what kind of name is 'Bad Faith' anyway. 'Bad News' is more like it."

"Malfoy is Bad Faith in French and shut your gob Ron."

"It's your funeral mate. I'll stand by you, but if he tries anything I'll hex off his bits."

"RON!"

This last from both Harry and Hermione seemed to end the discussion, such as it was.

Draco kissed Evan goodnight and told him to mind his Aunt Mel and watch for the littler ones. He hugged his son tightly and thanked him again for his birthday present. After a brief chat with the band he'd made arrangements for a special thank you during the show so he told Evan to watch the first set then "play or get into whatever mischief you little hellions have planned before bedtime." He promised, as always, to come for him at the end of the show and kissed him again before heading to his dressing room.

While he loved the music, he didn't like touring. He felt it demanded too much time away from his son and he'd be damned if he was going to treat his child like some trinket to dust off and show the neighbours when convenient then leave back on the shelf until next time. Evan swore he never felt like that. He knew his Papa loved him more than anything and he was happy with their life. He saw his Papa more than most kids whose parents worked "regular" jobs and he got to go all over the world and learn new things. Draco chuckled then…forget Slytherin, forget Gryffindor, his son was a Ravenclaw through and through.

Still mulling over what the Sorting Hat would make of his son, Draco entered his dressing room. Once he had dressed and the door closed behind him only Dragon would remain. Draco was for family, Dragon was for the crowd. They didn't know him. They didn't want to know him. They only wanted the icon they'd created. Sometimes when he was feeling particularly morose he wondered if this was how Harry felt all the time and what a relief it must've been to let the veneer fall away now and again. But then again Harry was the only one who saw the true Dragon in Draco. Only ever him.

Oh bollocks, now is not the time to go weepy and sentimental man. You have a show to do…Evan's going to love his song. So get going already!

His costume had been chosen months ago. Like all members of Bad Faith, Dragon had a particular style and dressed to play that up…the cross between Sexy Ice Prince and Fallen Angel worked for him, ironic that they were things that had been said about him for years, it's just now he was capitalising on those perceptions. Bare-chested he adjusted his jewellery, typically he wore very little. First and foremost, they were musicians and they were for the music, to share its power its joy, its magnitude. If the crowds wanted someone to pander to their idea of glamorous superstardom they could go check out the boy bands.

Despite the gifts he'd received over the years, he wore only a platinum torc on his left bicep. The lion rampant andgreat serpententwined, the same design of Evan's tracking broach and the gold Malfoy patriarch signet on his right index finger. He'd worn another ring once, but he couldn't bear thinking of that now.

He pulled his outfit for the evening's performance from the wardrobe and slipped into the gunmetal grey sleeveless dupioni vest. He buttoned the dozen or so tiny mother of pearl clasps and once more admired the cut of garment that showed off the definition of his arms and emphasised the exertions of strong muscles as he played the piano or violin. He left the top four buttons of the Mandarin style collar open so the Triquetra pendant was visible. He admired the platinum knotwork in the mirror and smiled.

Unity of the body, mind, and soul…you are wise beyond your years cub. Your godfather would be very proud.

Draco smiled and made a mental note to contact Remus soon. It had been too long since their last visit and Evan had grown so much since then. Neither he nor Evan owned anything silver in deference to the man who'd been his guiding light through the time of his greatest darkness. It was Remus who'd gotten him away from Hogwarts, and despite the trust that had grown between them, it had taken years for Draco to tell him the full story behind his escape from England, and longer still before he could talk about what he'd experienced in New York before Alistair and Melody had taken him in. But Remus always listened…with those sad amber eyes that had seen too much pain and too much death, he listened and he spoke with the weight of hard-earned knowledge. When it came time for Evan's naming day there was no choice as far as Draco had been concerned. Remus, Alistair and Melody were his godparents end of story.

Draco shook himself, why were the ghosts of his past coming to haunt him now?

Because Bad Faith has never toured in Britain. There's not one of us who isn't facing one daemon or another being back here.

Draco closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When his eyes opened again he was centred, focussed and ready to take on the stage. He smoothed his hands over his soft white dragonhide pants admiring the slight iridescent shimmer. His moment of admiration and introspection was broken by a sharp rap at the door. He didn't bother opening it, whoever it was would come right in. He was proven right as Rhiannon stepped through clipboard in hand.

"Okay everything's all set for your little surprise…Oh you look smashing Draco…except for your hair, let me fix that."

Before he knew it he'd been forced down into a chair and Rhi was finger combing his hair.

"I like it back," he groused.

"Mmm-hmm, that's nice. They like it loose. All wispy and in your pretty face. And for as much as all those people put out for tickets you should give them what they want."

Draco snorted, "You're a battle-axe you know?"

Rhi flashed him her best innocence personified smile, "Yes I am. Now go--you're on in 5."

Tbc...

A/N 2: Ah...have patience...and a little faith wink...more is on the way--and soon!