A/N: And yet another chapter makes a miraculous comeback looking ... decent, at last. Not that there weren't moments of sheer brilliance on the part of my coauthor (Lee Velviet is one of the funniest writers out there!). We were just crap at editing back in the day. Hopefully, the change is appreciated by everyone, not just J.T.!
Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good…(of course it's not ours!)
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"Let go of my neck -!" Draco snarled as the Unspeakable yanked him into what appeared to be a study.
"Stop whining, you sound like a Hufflepuff." Mr. Malfoy sank his fingers deeper into the fabric of the seventh year's silver and green Quidditch kit as he propelled him forward. "Sit down."
Draco had to catch himself as he was thrust toward a chair. He crossed his arms and met the older man's icy gaze with his own. "Think I'll stand, thanks," he sneered, pushing himself upright.
A chilling light entered the Unspeakable's eyes. "Suit yourself." He studied the seventh year for a long moment, apparently taking in everything from the state of his robes to the length of his hair. At last, he said, "As nostalgic as I feel seeing myself in Slytherin colors again, I'm not sure I trust Gin around you in those robes." He almost smiled. "I'll have some things brought up for you."
"Can't trust her around younger men? Astonishing." Draco's lip curled. To his surprise, the Unspeakable only gave him a smirk before turning away and taking a seat behind his desk. Then he turned his eyes on Draco and continued his silent study.
Draco shifted – the silence was stifling. At last, he bit out, "So - going to tell me how Ginny Weasley landed herself one of the richest wizards in England?"
"For a start, the wizard got her pregnant," the older man said, steepling his fingers. Draco's whole body tensed against a jump.
"Doesn't explain why you married her," he managed after a moment's pause. He lifted his chin. "Father would never have allowed me to do something so stupid. He'd have killed me." He paused again, winced. "Twice."
"She's worth dying for."
Draco flinched. No part of him was ready to fight the liquid steel behind the Unspeakable's eyes.
Another pause before Draco finally settled with, "I've never come across anything worth dying for in my life."
"You have; you just don't know it yet." The conviction behind the words made the back of Draco's neck prickle. "Anyway, Father wasn't in any condition after his initial protests to have any say in the matter."
"What do you mean, wasn't in any condition?"
The Unspeakable's lip twisted into a grimace that might have begun as a smile. "I mean he was dead, you twit."
Draco sat down hard in the chair behind him. "Did you – I mean – "
"Did I do it?" The older man actually laughed. Draco noticed how it eased his expression, took half the chill from his eyes. "Apparently, you think more of my abilities than you're letting on."
"You're an Unspeakable," Draco muttered defensively.
"I'm not a murderer." He spoke so softly that Draco scarcely heard him. There was a short silence, then, "As you might imagine, he was tried for war crimes. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban. He died there." The Unspeakable gave a humorless chuckle. "Didn't take long. For all the damage he did, he couldn't handle turnabout-as-fair-play." Mr. Malfoy stood. "Come on. I expect Ginevra will want to be sure you're in one piece."
"What difference will it make to her?"
The other laughed. "In a few years, she'll want to have your children. Git." He patted Draco's shoulder as he passed. "I know it's difficult; try to keep up."
He was almost to the door when he turned back, pinning Draco with a look that would haunt him for days. "Put one toe out of line with either of my redheads again, and I will make your regret a physical and psychological one."
Draco gave him a wide birth as he followed him from the room.
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A rustle in the darkness woke Harry up.
For a moment he lay very still, listening. He thought he'd been talking in his sleep again – he often talked so loudly that he'd wake everyone in his dorm, including himself. A moment later, a light flared nearby and he sat bolt upright, snatching his wand from beneath his pillow. He held it before him while his other hand scrabbled for his glasses on the bedside table.
"Who's there?" His voice scratched against his dry throat.
A rough chuckle sounded from the foot of his bed. "You know, if I had been Voldemort, you'd be dead."
Harry finally found his glasses and swept them up his nose. "Oh," he said coolly as the figure in the shadows resolved itself into the Unspeakable Harry Potter. "It's you." He felt his lip curl. "You're a creep."
The Unspeakable snorted. He was sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed, slouched with a leg up. Far from concern, a foreign expression dressed his eyes. Harry didn't immediately recognize it, but after some study he realized it was boredom.
Harry pulled up short as something else caught his eye. "Is that a tattoo?"
The older man laughed, a clearer sound than the first. "Yeah." He pulled aside his shirt a bit so Harry could see. The fierce Hungarian Horntail was about the size of a fist and exquisitely detailed - an exact replica of the one Harry had faced in the Tri-Wizard tournament fourth year. Like most wizarding art, it was moving, though at the moment, it appeared to be snoring. Occasionally, a jet of fire could be seen dancing across the Unspeakable's chest.
"I won't bore you with the details - just don't believe Fred when he tells you that you can't get drunk off Weasley-enhanced butter beer."
"Why are you here?" Harry removed his glasses and attempted to rub sleep from his eyes.
"I came to give you the explanation I know you want. You obviously think I'm an absolute bastard." Familiar green eyes glittered at Harry through the gloom.
He shrugged. "I can't even begin to imagine how you can treat your son the way you do." He shoved his glasses back on and stared at the other man, trying to find a trace of something recognizable. "Honestly! You were raised in a cupboard. You're supposed to get this right!"
The older man smirked. "Did it ever occur to you that living in a cupboard probably shook a few screws loose for you? What kind of parenting skills did you expect to learn from the Dursleys?" He chuckled again. It sounded like flaking rust. "I mean, god, it's a wonder Cedric isn't five hundred pounds."
Harry looked at him steadily, unblinking. "You know better than that."
"I guess I should." Harry's nerves grated with the look the Unspeakable gave him; pity, with a healthy dose of contempt. Harry kind of wanted to hit him. "But maybe when you've taken me back to my younger years, I'll rethink my life and finally know the true meaning of Christmas."
"What happened to you?" Harry knew baiting when he heard it. He knew it now because this man sounded horribly like Dudley. Harry wondered if the Unspeakable knew it. He felt some pity of his own.
The older man wasn't smirking anymore. He's expression was flat, unreadable. "Zabini - left," he said eventually. "And I was glad to see the back of her."
"You don't look glad," Harry countered. "You look jealous. Weak."
Ignoring these digs, the Unspeakable rose and moved to the place where Harry had dropped his Quidditch robes. He stooped to pick up the scarlet and gold material, rubbing his fingers over the fabric. "Haven't seen these in years." He traced a finger over the Gryffindor badge embroidered over the chest. "You know, you don't realize it now, but things were so fucking easy at school. Oh, sure – Voldemort, problems every year, little bit of death. But everything changed after Hogwarts. So much more complicated. So much worse." He looked up at Harry, crushing the robes in his fist.
"Nothing happens like you expect; I guess you know that by now. I was a naïve, stupid kid when I married Blaise. Tristan and Cedric became my whole world. I love them more than anything, and thought she did too." His white knuckles stood out against the dark material. "When she ran off, she shattered every illusion she'd built." He snorted. "She tricked me into believing there was a forever, and like a stupid kid, I fell for it. I'll never forgive her for that. I'll never forgive her for hurting the kids like she did."
"You're hurting Cedric now," Harry began.
"He's hurting me as well!" the Unspeakable snarled, dropping the robes. "Wait till you're a single parent with no heart left. Try raising a first-born who worships the thing that betrayed you all. Cedric is convinced that I did something to make Blaise go or that someone took her or she went on a mission and just couldn't make it back to us." He let out an impressive curse, slamming his fist down on the wardrobe. Harry jumped. "Cedric thinks Blaise is in trouble somewhere. He won't forgive me for not going to look for her, even after all these years. But I know exactly where the bitch is." A smile that was a tear against his pale face made Harry's pulse quicken.
Harry swallowed hard. "Where?" he managed.
"She's off living with sodding Longbottom."
"Longbottom? Not Neville Longbottom!" Maybe this was some kind of alternate universe, he thought wildly.
"History's repeating itself, isn't it?" The Unsteakable gritted his teeth. "With Mum and Dad, it was Pettigrew; with Blaise and me, Longbottom. Who'll turn on me next? Malfoy, I can hear you thinking. Maybe Ron."
"I don't believe this!" Harry stared at the Unspeakable. "Do you know who you sound like? You sound like Tom Riddle!"
"Poor little Harry." The Unspeakable shook his head, the unbearable pity gleaming in his eyes. "Life is going to be such a disappointment to you."
"You don't deserve those kids." Harry's whole body tense. He wanted a duel. His fist was aching for the other man's face. He fought against the chaos – his mind felt like it might collapse. He focused on Tristan and Cedric; their faces so much like his, and yet, so much like another's.
"What do you know about them?" The Unspeakable's voice was harsh. "You've only had your own tiny existence to deal with. Wait until you have two others and no one but yourself to rely on." The look he cast Harry over his shoulder sent a shiver down Harry's spine. He hadn't believed he was capable of such a look, yet there it was, easily twisted onto the Unspeakable's face. "Where will your idealism and narrow understanding of real life get you then? You can't live in Hogwarts the rest of your life. Grow up, Harry."
Harry watched the bedroom door snap shut behind the older man. He stared, unseeing, at the bright room for a long time. It wasn't until the artificial light blended with the light of the rising sun that Harry lay back and drifted toward sleep.
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Harry felt he had barely closed his eyes when he was awoken by a shouting match outside his door. He couldn't figure out what Tristan and Hayden were fighting about, but he suspected it was something completely inane. He gave up on sleep, dressed in the fresh clothes he found in the wardrobe, and was amazed at how well they fit. He wandered the house for some time before at last coming upon the dining room. He almost wished he hadn't – he could feel the hostility in the room from almost every occupant. He was relieved to find that his seat wasn't close to Unspeakable Harry's.
Cedric Potter never did make an appearance. Harry wondered what more there was to the father/son animosity. He glanced at Cedric's father. He realized that what he hadn't caught during last night's conversation was that the Unspeakable's feelings toward Cedric weren't hateful – they was suspicious. Harry gnawed at a bit of toast as he eyed the silent, broken man seated down the table. He didn't understand where the suspicion came from, but given the paranoia he sensed in the older man, Harry suspected it wouldn't take much to provoke such a reaction.
A tinkling laugh caught his attention, and he shifted his gaze to the slight brunette seated next to her father. Tristan was laughing – snickering, really – at something Dorian Weasley had said. She didn't seem to notice the tension in the air. Harry's chest ached as he thought about how used to enmity she must be by now. For most of her life, her father and brother had been set against each other. Harry wondered how much it had affected her – how much her father or brother bothered to notice.
Turned completely off his food, Harry pushed his plate away and took to examining the others.
Draco Malfoy was slouched in his chair across the table from Harry, occasionally stabbing at his food and muttering under his breath. Apart from looking as if he hadn't slept a wink, the seventh year's usually immaculate hair was hanging into his eyes and the top two buttons of his borrowed black robes were done up crooked. The blond looked up suddenly and caught Harry staring. Harry offered a scowl, Malfoy offered a sneer, and Harry forced himself to look away, his eyes roving the rest of the table.
They didn't travel far, catching on Blaise. She was seated one up the table from Malfoy, her expression fierce. Unlike Malfoy, she hadn't bothered with food. Harry looked away. He wasn't quite ready to examine her too closely.
Ginny was sitting on Blaise's other side, speaking to Mrs. Malfoy. Though she seemed to be attending to the conversation, something in her eyes made Harry wonder if her thoughts were occupied by other things. She was eating, he was pleased to see (at the rate the rest of them were going, they'd starve to death and it wouldn't matter if they got home). He wondered if her thoughts were where his were.
Harry had never really allowed himself to think about the future. There had never been much of a point – what would come would come, just like Hagrid had told him back in his fourth year. The threat of Voldemort was his future, at least in his present. His thoughts turned back to the Unspeakable across from him and he realized that having Voldemort behind him hadn't improved his life at all. Disgusted, Harry kept his eyes moving up the table.
Dorian Weasley and his father, seated close to the head of the table, were having an overloud discussion about Quidditch. This, Harry suspected, was the chief cause of Tristan's merriment. Harry felt a smile in spite of himself – Ron hadn't changed at all and it seemed his son was going to be just like him.
Hayden Malfoy, seated beside Dorian, didn't say much, but was obviously listening. He seemed to be hearing the conversation, but his eyes danced between Tristan and the seventh year version of his father.
The master of the house sat at the head of the table, nothing more than coolly amused by the chaos. His long blond hair was tied back at the base of his neck, his dark robes impeccably smooth. His free hand rested on the table, twined with his wife's. Harry made it a point not to judge appearances, but the Unspeakable Draco Malfoy looked far too much like his father for Harry's taste. All he was missing was a silver, serpent-tipped cane, and perhaps that light of malevolence that had haunted Lucius's eyes.
Harry tensed as Lucius Malfoy's face rose in his mind's eye. Dealing with that rotter at points in his school career had been almost as bad as his encounters with Voldemort.
Mrs. Malfoy's laugh shattered the image of her father-in-law. Harry looked up the table. The redhead appeared amused at something her husband was whispering in her ear. Her eyes were dancing and when she responded in an undertone, the Unspeakable laughed as well. Something about the brightness that laugh brought to the former Slytherin's eye made the association with Lucius Malfoy seem inappropriate. And though Harry knew his nose twitched at the unlikely sight of Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy sharing a smile, he could tell whatever his own issues in this future might be, Draco Malfoy was for for all intents and purposes a very happy man.
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Draco Malfoy decided that he despised Ginny Weasley.
Strike that - he despised everyone, every single living being in the room, and the damned room. He despised the house, the land, the innocent woodland creatures living on the land, and the entire bloody world! He refused to consider that he was still smarting from the verbal lashing he'd received from his Unspeakable self the night before, though a reasonable part of him was impressed that he had grown into such an imposing bastard.
The thing Draco couldn't forgive the man for was the sacrilegious atrocity that was his marriage to Ginny Weasley.
Out of desperation, Draco had actually plucked up the courage to pull Mr. Malfoy aside before breakfast. Upon demanding of the older man what the hell he'd been thinking, the Unspeakable replied, "Lucius told me when I spoke of proposing to her that she wasn't the sort of girl one married. He said I'd do well to take what I needed and be done with her. I then told him she was carrying my child, and his reply made me realize just how much I hated him. To be honest, I didn't really love her then - or I did, but I was blind to it. I married her because I wanted my child to bear my name. I always planned to divorce her and retain custody of Hayden. But we got on well enough, time passed - and then one day something happened that made me realize what my life would be like without her."
"Oh, really?" Draco's lip was already curling in disgust. This level of fluff made his teeth ache.
The look on the Unspeakable's face became so chilling that Draco flinched. "No, I don't think I'll tell you," Mr. Malfoy said, his drawl so menacing that Draco had backed up a step. "It might - lack the proper impact if I told you now. Merlin knows you needed some sense shocked into you. Of course, now that you know to expect all this, who can say if it will even happen now?"
"If I have my way, none of this will be happening," he managed. He straightened, glowering at the Unspeakable. "None of it, understand?"
"We'll see," was all the man would say in return. He turned, smiled at Mrs. Malfoy, who was waiting patiently just out of hearing, and followed her into the dining room. Moments later, Draco heard her laugh.
"We'll see, all right," Draco was now muttering under his breath as he stabbed his fork in a piece of ham.
"I think it's sufficiently dead already," Blaise taunted in an undertone. Draco glanced at her, saw her sneer. He didn't have to wonder at why she was enjoying this debacle so much - he'd turned her down once too often and it was a nice taste of revenge, seeing him so unsettled.
"Get stuffed, Zabini," he hissed. "I'll show you dead," he added, stabbing the ham again. He just wanted to go home. Home was where Father was and though Draco had no love of him, the man surely could and would get him out of this mess. Marrying Ginny Weasley, for Merlin's sake! He gave his head a shake and threw his utensils down with a loud clatter. "Just let that time-hopping wizard show back up! This is all Potter's fault!" He was muttering under his breath and a part of him realized that if he'd been in his right mind, he'd have been concerned.
Ron Weasley snorted. "Thinks he handy with a wand, does he?" He and the Unspeakable Potter shared a grin.
At the end of his patience - and it had never been great – Draco's lip curled as he focused on this new annoyance. "Stuff it, old man, or I'll show you".
"Don't you talk to my dad like that, you bloodless little snake!" Dorian growled across the table, his fists clenching threateningly. He sent a sheepish look up at Mr. Malfoy. "Er, no offense, Uncle."
"None taken, boy," the Unspeakable returned, popping grilled tomato into his mouth.
"Where's Hermione, Ron?" Potter asked out of the blue. Draco snorted.
"She's at the Hollow with the kids. Littlest ones have got dragon pox from somewhere."
"Exactly how many kids do you two have?" Ginny spoke up. She was, Draco was quick to see, keeping her eyes on the head of the table.
Git Weasley, world populator extraordinare, grinned a roguish grin. "Five besides Ian here."
"Quick, somebody call an exterminator," Draco muttered into his plate. He glanced at the food, felt ill, and shoved it away. Merciful Zeus, get Weasley reproducing out of his head!
"Hayden,love, I think this would be a good time to show everyone the house. You could show them the new pitch," Mrs. Malfoy suggested, with a warning look down the table that Draco decided to ignore.
Hayden Malfoy, ever the dutiful son (and there goes the gag reflex again, Draco thought), laid his napkin down and stood up. "Sure, Mum."
"Why don't you get down on your hands and knees and lick the bottoms of her shoes while you're at it," Draco mumbled, sliding down in his seat.
"Pitch?" Ginny repeated, her eyebrows under her fringe. "Spoilt, much?"
"You shouldn't talk," Mr. Malfoy said. Draco watched the color rise in Ginny's cheeks as the Unspeakable smiled her way. "You were the one who talked me into letting him have one."
"You should have talked him into throwing himself off a bridge," Draco put in. Everyone ignored him.
Of course Potter's ears perked up at the mention of Quidditch. "Your own pitch? Really?"
Ginny rolled her eyes, the extra color fading from her cheeks. She put her napkin aside. "How can you lot even think about Quidditch at a time like this?"
"I play my best when I'm under pressure," Potter told her. He smirked in a maddening way at Draco. "Remember Malfoy pretending to be a Dementor?"
Ginny wasn't the only one who laughed.
"And you haven't seen Harry play professionally." Ron Weasley nudged the silent Unspeakable next to him with his elbow. "Remember your first World Cup, Harry? Fresh from Puddlemere United - England and Bulgaria - now that was a bloody brilliant game! There he was, four hours in, the Snitch was nowhere in sight, and Bulgaria was ahead by like, fifty points - "
"There he goes again," Mrs. Malfoy groaned. Draco had to take a moment to tear his eyes from her. She was older, but she was beautiful. It was impossible to believe she and the freckled Ginny Weasley were one and the same.
But he still despised her. Them.
"Ron, stop. Please." Mrs. Malfoy was rubbing her temples. "Not everyone enjoys a play-by-play of Harry's matches." She smiled at the Unspeakable Potter and Draco's stomach flip-flopped.
Weasley looked insulted as he turned toward his sister. "I don't judge your religion, do I? So anyway, like I was saying - "
Huh, Draco thought, sliding as far down in his chair as he could. So this is hell.
"I can't believe I play professional Quidditch." Potter sounded ready to jump up and down. Draco felt a twitch begin in his jaw. He focused on the chandelier above him as his spine went rigid.
"I really play for Puddlemere United? I played in a World Cup?"
Draco had never wanted to see something awful - and preferably painful - happen to anyone as much as he did Harry Potter.
"Oh, mate, it was brilliant!" Weasley said, no doubt with an uplifted expression on his face. "I always knew you would, Harry. Although I had hoped you'd sign with the Cannons - "
"The Cannons?" Draco exploded, dropping his eyes from chandelier. This was too much. He seized the opportunity to draw himself from his maddening thoughts. "The Chudley Cannons, you must be joking! Isn't their motto 'Let's keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best?'"
"Eh, you've done it now," Dorian sighed, inching away from his father.
Ron Weasley actually growled. Pathetic. "I'll have you know, Malfoy, the Chudley Cannons are making a rapid comeback - "
"Their last League win was in 1892!" Draco argued; not out of any great personal passion, just to be contrary. "They ought to have been kicked out by now! Face it, Weasley - they suck!"
"Why you - !"
Draco smirked. He had forgotten how easy it was to bait Weasley.
"I swear, Malfoy, if you don't shut up – " Potter looked irritable more than angry, but Draco figured he could change that.
"Oh - I'm paralyzed with fear. Grouchy Potter told me off. What's the matter, scar-head? Didn't get your morning wank in?" He lifted his eyebrows and grinned as Potter went dull red.
"I think this is the weirdest thing I've seen," Tristan's voice drifted down the table. "Since when is Uncle Draco such a complete bastard?"
"For once, I have to agree," Hayden said. His eyes darted between Draco and Potter. "And since when is Uncle Harry so ungodly patient?"
"Maybe this is where you lot get it from," Dorian shot at them. Draco had to admire the boy. He had a knack for saying just the thing to piss everyone right off. Tristan and Hayden were glaring at him.
"Shouldn't we be celebrating?" Dorian added with a wicked look that almost impressed Draco. "You two agreed on something not thirty second ago."
Tristan and Hayden began making various disgusted noises.
"That's it!" Mrs. Malfoy was on her feet, long finger pointing at the door. "Out - the lot of you!"
"I've not finished with my breakfast," Draco told her defiantly, turning his head to leer openly at her curves. She didn't look remotely impressed, which was irritating since Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd failed to impress with that look. Well, he could, but he certainly hadn't been trying to impress Ginny.
Still, Mrs. Malfoy was radiant when she was hacked off. He'd have to remember to anger her more often.
"Draco Malfoy, I'm absolutely fed up and disgusted listening to you. Get out!" He could see the Unspeakable in her now and if he hadn't been so intoxicated at the sight of her, he might have been intimidated.
"One can tell you've been a mother too long." He flashed a brief, insulting look at Mr. Malfoy. "In case you've forgotten, he'sthe Malfoy you've got the collar on."
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"Ooooh." Dorian winced, promptly grabbed a handful of biscuits and scooting out of the dining room. Blaise, Tristan, Hayden, Ginny, and Harry were on his heels.
Ginny paused at the door, her heart thudding. She heard a thud.
"Draco, you can't kill him!" Mrs. Malfoy reasoned desperately.
"I'm not going to kill him, darling. I'm just going to rough him up a bit."
"Stop it! That is you you're pummeling. Psychologically, this can't be good for you. Oh!"
"Don't worry, I'll just see to it he has a healthy fear of acting a git. And an aversion to putting his foot in his mouth in future."
"Right, that'll help," Ginny heard Ron mutter.
"That's right, Malfoy." Unspeakable Harry's voice rang with amusement. "Show yourself who's boss."
Ginny thought she might be a bad person for laughing and quickly turned away to follow the others outside. Before she had taken more than a few steps, she heard Draco stumble into the hall behind her. She turned. He was leaning against the wall, cursing the air blue. He looked unharmed and Ginny figured Mr. Malfoy had gone for intimidation tactics, rather than actual damage.
"Wow, Malfoy." Ginny looked him over. All signs pointed to injured pride, she decided. "Quite a piece you'll turn out to be."
"You, too, little Weasel," he said, with a look up and down her body that made her feel exposed.
She folded her arms. "Actually, I pity you. You don't seem to have enough sense to keep your mouth shut. Also, even though you just got your arse handed to you in there, you probably haven't learnt a thing from it." Ginny widened her eyes. "Have you still got all your teeth?"
Suddenly, he was right in front of her. She took a smart step back and came up against a wall.
"Want to count for me, Weasel? So generous," he drawled, leaning close and opening his mouth in a grin that was almost a grimace.
Ginny's stomach twittered. "Er - yes, that's me, generous." Had Malfoy always been that tall?
"You know," he said softly, his lips brushing her ear, "I think you could help me with something. My lip does sting something awful." He placed his hands against the wall on either side of her head. "Want to make it better?" Very slowly, almost teasingly, he swept his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.
"Uh…"
"Ginny - you coming?" There was Harry calling, and Ginny actually jumped.
"Why go out just now?" Draco whispered, a persuasive edge to his silky voice. "Big house. I'm sure we could find something to pass the time in here."
Ginny made a breathless sound of distress as she stared up into hooded silver eyes. When had she suddenly become this susceptible to him? She'd had no trouble knocking him over the head back at Hogwarts. Now the only things she could think to say made her blush and made her think of begging.
"Gin?" Harry's voice again.
"We could have a lovely time, just the two of us," he went on, the hypnotic quality of his voice nearly making Ginny groan. "All this rot about the future. We don't have to be married, you know, to – "
Blinking back into herself, her hands curl into fists. "What did you say?"
"You know what I mean, Ginny." His eyes flickered down her robes. "Don't act like you don't - no one has to know – "
"You disgusting bastard!" Ginny slammed her foot down on his toes.
Malfoy swore and backed hastily away.
"If you ever suggest anything like that again, I will make sure you pay for it, Malfoy." The darkness in her voice came from a place she didn't recognize.
Apparently, it had some affect on Draco. He didn't say a word as she stalked away after the others. She didn't think he'd followed her, either.
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"There you are, Ced! I wondered what had happened to you at breakfast," Tristan was calling to her brother as Ginny caught up to the others.
Cedric was just dismounting from his broom, and waved at her as they approached the stands.
"Oh, I can't imagine why he wasn't there," Blaise muttered. "Might it be that he wanted to avoid his father who can't stand the sight of him?"
Ginny watched as Tristan paused. She expected Harry's daughter to lash out, but instead she said coolly and without turning, "Well, I can see why Dad doesn't want you around. It's obvious we're all better off without you." She turned enough to look at Harry. "I really wouldn't blame you if you had nothing to do with her when you get back. Honestly, I don't see how you could bring yourself to touch her." She pushed her silver-framed glasses up on her small nose, flipped her dark hair in an exact imitation of Blaise, and set off across the field toward her brother.
Blaise was glowering after the girl with some emotion in her eyes that Ginny couldn't identify.
"She's upset," Harry offered. He was still a bit red – Ginny suspected it was from Draco's comment at breakfast.
Blaise rewarded the soft, hesitant words with a disdainful glare. Ginny resisted the urge to hex her.
"Yeah, Tristan doesn't mean it," Hayden added after a moment. "She says things like that all the time."
"What do I care?" Blaise snarled, though her lower lip trembled. "She's nothing - she's a mistake. All of this is just one big, bloody mistake!" She stormed back toward the house. Ginny could hear the door slam.
"Touchy bint," Dorian muttered, staring after her. Ginny glanced at Hayden. His eyes were wide and stayed fixed on the distance door of the house.
Abruptly, Harry went jogging off toward Tristan and Hayden. "Tristan, wait!" Ginny saw her turn and smile. She said something that made Harry's jaw relax and when she looped an arm through his and pulled him toward Cedric, Ginny's stomach began to unknot.
Dorian coughed. Ginny glanced at him. He smiled and offered her his arm. Then he looked at Hayden. Dropping his arm, he winked at Ginny and wandered over to the others.
"Let's go," Hayden said, offering Ginny his own arm. She took it immediately.
"You okay?" he asked her as they made their way over the grass.
Ginny sighed and squeezed her son's arm, feeling the unexpected need to comfort him. "I don't know how Zabini could say any of that," she murmured. "I guess she's right. I didn't expect any of this – but – none of you are a mistake, Hayden, I'm sure of it." She stared anxiously at him. "She doesn't know what the hell she's talking about."
"Are you saying you won't do things differently, knowing what you do now?" Hayden looked carefully down at her. She noticed that his eyes were darker gray than Draco's. "Are you saying you'd love my dad enough to have me, to marry him?"
Ginny dropped her eyes. How could she possibly imagine loving Draco Malfoy, the most narcissistic, unfeeling, unkind person she knew? "I - I don't know, Hayden," she began. She paused. "I mean, you have to admit, there's not much there to love yet. But what I've seen of myself and your father in this future…well, I wouldn't mind experiencing that kind of relationship. And I'm proud to know that I have such an amazing son." She smiled back up at him, and then laughed, shrugging away the last of her unease. "But then, I'm only sixteen. I was in love with your uncle Harry for years, but I never have been able to stomach Draco. What do I know? I guess that's why they call it the future."
"You were in love with Uncle Harry?" Hayden snorted. The cool morning wind tossed his hair across his high, smooth forehead and Ginny was suddenly charmed as he smiled at her. "Tristan was right, you know, as much as I hate to admit it. It is a miracle, us being here, when none of you can bloody stand each other."
Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Well…obviously Malfoy has to have some redeeming qualities – I'd never have married him otherwise. Right?"
Hayden arched dark blond brows in a way that reminded Ginny his father. "Maybe you need to have a long talk with my mum."
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"You don't believe him, do you?"
Harry rubbed his scar, smoothed his fringe across it out of habit. "I'm not sure what to believe, Cedric." He had just finished telling the younger Potter about his late night visitor. He frowned. "I know he's been an absolute failure as a dad."
"Got that right. Mostly." Cedric leaned on his racing broom, which looked a little worse-for-wear from all of his travels. He stared at Harry impatiently through messy hair. "Listen, I know it's hard for you to understand what's going on here, but trust me. Dad's had too many years of secrets and war. He's paranoid and he's seeing enemies everywhere."
"What are you talking about? Are you telling me he's - I've - gone mad?"
"Maybe. Or just prematurely senile." Cedric's eyes were hard. Harry wondered if, like Harry, Cedric had been forced to grow up before his time.
"I admit, he's a bit darty-eyed and accusatory." Harry watched Tristan bolt by on a magnificent racing broom in the middle of a complicated, smoothly executed transverse Seeker's maneuver that had him distracted for a moment.
"You haven't been here," Cedric said, his voice low and persistent. "You haven't seen what he's like, sometimes."
"He reminded me of Dudley," Harry murmured, more to himself than to Cedric. "It's sick."
He was distracted again as Hayden Malfoy shot passed after Tristan, flying toward her too fast before standing up on his broom and somersaulting over her. His broom sailed under her and he landed safely back on it in front of her. She called him something quite vile that made him shout with laughter.
"Dad wasn't always like this," Cedric conceded. "Just since mum…disappeared."
Harry tried to turn his attention back to Cedric, but was again sidetracked by Hayden and Tristan, who had stopped their chase and wereengaged in an argument as they floated high above the pitch on their brooms, their forms silhouetted against the darkening sky. They'd have to go in soon - it looked ready to storm. "You really think your mum was taken?" he asked Cedric after a moment, forcing himself to ignore the argument.
"She wouldn't have just left us like that. She loved us. Like you can't imagine."
Yesterday, Harry would have found it hard to believe Blaise could love anyone. After the way she'd acted only minutes ago, it seemed suddenly a whole lot more likely.
"I don't care how long it takes," Cedric was saying. "I'm going to find her. Or, at least, find out what happened to her."
Dorian Weasley's fiery red head appeared over Cedric's shoulder and saved Harry having to answer.
The boy was hovering upside down on his broom, a hopeful look on his face. "Hullo, nice to see you - how about a match?"
Harry shook his head. He wished he could lose himself in something as easy as Quidditch. In fact, he'd rather be facing down the entire Slytherin team on his own than be stuck in the mess he'd willingly jumped into.
"Sorry, Ian." Cedric beat Harry to his refusal, hauling his broom onto his shoulder in a practiced move. "I'm out - I'm gonna head back to the house and grab a few winks. I promised Aunt Gin I'd put in a peace-keeping appearance at supper and I'll need all my strength." He winked at Dorian, nodded at Harry, and turned to go.
Dorian made a sound of disappointment, but turned upright and flew off to see if he could pull Hayden and Tristan's claws out of each other's throats.
Meanwhile, Harry watched his son walk unhurriedly away across the pitch with his head down. Harry thought his son made a very lonely figure, faintly outlined against the trees and the cold, swirling gray of the sky. He didn't turn as Ginny appeared beside him, her eyes also on Cedric. She didn't bother with the pretense that she hadn't heard a word of what they'd said, and he had to respect her for that.
"Do you think he's right about Zabini, Harry?" she asked as Cedric disappeared into the house.
"I don't know." Taking a deep breath of the cool air, he looked up just as the first rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
"Something's not right here. Well, beyond the obvious. I mean the whole situation with Zabini – Tristan and Cedric's mum. I think we need to talk to Malfoy."
"The Unspeakable, you mean?" A funny look crossed Ginny's face. "Maybe it is time to head in. Although the rain might cool those two down," she added dryly, waving a hand at the teens shouting at each other above the pitch.
Lightning suddenly split the sky and they looked up in alarm.
Harry opened his mouth to yell for Hayden and Tristan to come down when Hayden went stiff, looking over Tristan's shoulder. His eyes widened and he pointed. Tristan turned on her broom, shaking her hair out of her eyes. She gave a start, turned again and shouted something down to Harry, but whatever it was was drowned out by the rain and thunder.
"What is it? What's she saying?" Ginny shook her own wet hair from her face, and squinted through the rain. "Harry?"
Harry's glasses were fogging up, but he suddenly saw something that made his blood go cold.
A familiar figure shrouded in hooded red robes stood just before the tree line of the dark woods that surrounded the grounds. Another flash of lightning, and the figure was gone.
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"He was there, I'm telling you! Red Robes was at the edge of the woods," Harry told the Unspeakables minutes later as he stood panting, dripping rain water on the carpet of Mr. Malfoy's study.
"I'm not doubting you, Harry. No, actually, I am." Mr. Malfoy reached up and tugged off the tie holding his hair back from his face. He ran a hand through it, narrowing his eyes. "You must understand – no one but a member of the Malfoy family can Apparate or Disapparate onto or away from these grounds, nor can anyone come or go from the grounds unless the wards are down, which they haven't been since your arrival. How could this Red Robes person have appeared and then disappeared so quickly? One moment he was there, the next – gone. Where did he go?"
"How the hell should I know?" Impatient and very cross, Harry turned on Malfoy, who was lounging in a wing-backed chair near the fire, and muttering to himself. "What are you on about, Malfoy?"
"Don't you have anything in your head bordering on a brain, Potter? It's obvious, isn't it? If you lot did actually see Red Robes, it's got to be one of us - somebody in this room. It could be him, for all we know." Malfoy threw a nasty look at the master of the house. "And it's got to be someone with Malfoy blood, like the old man said."
"Are you suggesting that a member of my family is trying to kill Hayden and Tristan?" Mr. Malfoy's eyes were steely, his voice dangerously quiet.
Malfoy gave him the first genuine look Harry had seen him give anyone since they arrived. It was cold, honest, and deadly serious. "Bad blood – all Malfoys have it."
Hayden, wrapped in a blanket provided by his mother, was shaking his head. "You're wrong. That's complete rot. There're only three Malfoys here, for Merlin's sakes - and it's obviously not me, or Mum and Dad. Unless I've done something lately to really hack you off, " he added, glancing at his father with a question smile.
The Unspeakable rolled his eyes. "As if you ever do anything that could displease me."
Dorian, sitting on th scrolled arm of a settee, cleared his throat uncomfortably, and raised his hand.
Ron sighed. "He's my son, and I love him dearly. What is it, Ian?"
The young redhead gulped, standing up and shooting a nervous look at Hayden. "Den, you remember the blood brothers thing we did?"
There was a short pause.
"Oh, bloody hell, Hayden," his father groaned. "I thought you had more sense than that!"
"Tell me you did this not knowing what it could mean," Mrs. Malfoy begged, her eyes moving between her son and nephew.
Hayden was looking pitiful and a little betrayed. "We did it when we were kids, honestly." He looked down at his feet. "Just a little cut on the finger was all. The knife was clean. We just - we just realized Ian could Apparate here because of it, by accident, last summer."
"It was all really blameless," Dorian added earnestly. He hesitated. "I don't know if it means anything - and I'm only saying this because I'll feel guilty if I don't." He glanced at Cedric, whose expression was unreadable. "Cedric and I became blood brothers, too…but it was years ago, like Hayden said. We were just playing around – "
"So it was you!" Malfoy cut him off, eyes narrowed as he drew his wand and took a pace towards Cedric. "You caused all this!"
Harry took a step towards him, hearing Ginny gasp. "Drop the wand, Malfoy!"
"Admit it!" the Slytherin snapped, ignoring him. "Whose idea was it to do that blood exchange? Surely, Bumpkin Weasley is much younger than you, Potter. And isn't it a little convenient that you turn up here because you heard your precious sister was in town. You got onto the grounds even though the wards went up as soon as we got here."
Cedric was up now, too, his eyes burning. "Ian got the blood brother's spell from a book. I was fifteen and thought it was a good joke. And last night, I was here before you all arrived, before the wards went up. And why in Merlin's name would I kill one of my best friends and my own sister? Your logic is flawed, Malfoy."
"Maybe you did – who knows for sure when you actually arrived?" Malfoy shrugged, his wand still out.
Cedric's shoulders were tense, but he didn't respond. He also hadn't drawn his wand.
"This is ridiculous," Tristan snapped. "Cedric hasn't been trying to kill anyone!" She crossed to her brother and accepted the arm he wrapped around her shoulders. He kissed her temple, ignoring the looks of his father and Malfoy.
"Is it so ridiculous?" The former eyed his children. Tristan winced. Cedric met the Unspeakable's hard stare with an identical one and tightened his arm around his sister.
"I told you he was paranoid, Harry," Cedric shot back, addressing the seventh year, though his eyes remained on his father. "He'll be accusing you next."
"Everyone stop!" both Ginnys shouted. They looked at each other, and then rolled their eyes.
"Okay," the seventh year said after a deep breath. "You," she said, poking a finger in Cedric's direction, "are giving me the creeps!"
"Beg your pardon," he began indignantly. Tristan squeezed his arm.
"And you," she turned on his father, "aren't exactly above suspicion either. Walking around here all broody and ill-tempered. It could be anybody, like Malfoy said before. It could be me!"
Everyone stared at her.
"Okay, probably not me, but – stop throwing blame around. It's not helping."
"She's right," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Harry, please. You're the adult – act like it."
The words seemed to hit the Unspeakable with force. He turned his back on the room and moved to the nearest window. His eyes were almost black, Harry saw, and his knuckles were white where they gripped his elbows. Harry glanced at Tristan. She grimaced, her breath catching as she exhaled. Then she cleared her throat, set her shoulders, and turned her back on him.
"Ced, I asked you not to pick fights in my house," Mrs. Malfoy was saying. Her voice was gentle. "Didn't I?"
"Sorry, Aunt," he muttered. Tristan glared at her godmother. Cedric ruffled her hair. "And I believe Miss Weasley was trying to make a point earlier?"
"I'm sorry – were you, love?" Mr. Malfoy's eyes flashed in Ginny's direction with a mischievous twinkle.
Ginny blushed. "My, yes, my point. We shouldn't jump to conclusions or form a lynch mob. We should be concentrating on finding out who Red Robes is, based on whatever solid evidence we can scrape together. In case you've all forgotten, nothing about magic is absolutely full-proof."
"She's right; who knows what kind of dark magic is at work here," Harry agreed, thinking about his scar, his mother's protection – he wouldn't be alive if magic were predictable.
"The wards around my grounds are full-proof," Mr. Malfoy answered testily. He glared at Ginny. Far from looking intimidated, Harry thought she looked allured. "What kind of mediocre, trifling wizard do you take me for, Ginevra?"
The Ginevra in question was still red, but she gave the Unspeakable an unimpressed look. "Forgive me, Malfoy. Your ego isn't the issue."
Mrs. Malfoy laughed. She tried to stifle it in her sleeve, but he heard and turned a pitiful look on her. She shrugged. "She's going to be a magnificent wife someday, Draco."
"You have complete control over the wards surrounding this place, don't you?" Harry asked the Unspeakable Malfoy, ignoring the small dispute. "I mean, you can pull them up and down whenever you want?"
The Unspeakable shook his head. "Yes, it's true that I can, and I can see right now where you're going with that. Please explain to me why I would want to off my heir or my wife's goddaughter." His expression was dangerous and Harry paused, realizing the thin ice he was on.
"Where is Dumbledore when you need him?" Ginny burst out. She had turned her attention to a window and was glaring out into the storm.
"That's it! Dumbledore!"Harry took a deep breath, his whole body relaxing."He can help us! Why didn't I think of it before?" He looked around. Ginny and, to his surprise, Blaise and Malfoy, were actually looking hopeful. Then Harry noticed the Unspeakables. They were all shaking their heads.
"No one's seen Dumbledore in years, Harry," Ron said at last. "I'm not even sure the old man's still alive."
Harry's heart sank. He glanced at Ginny. Her head was bowed. "Not even anyone in the Unspeakables?"
"Not even us."
Mr. Malfoy rubbed his temples. His wife drew up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. When at last he spoke, his voice was low.
"There was some talk, but it's all a load if you ask me." He hesitated.
"Where?" Ginny demanded.
The Unspeakable took a deep breath. "Avalon."
"Avalon - but it doesn't exist." Harry remembered reading about Avalon, both in the Muggle world and at Hogwarts. The legends, the myths, King Arthur, the Holy Grail ...
"It's a legend. Absolute bollocks." The Unspeakable Harry had turned from the window and was glaring at Mr. Malfoy. "Even if it were true, legend and history have been so diluted that you'd never even find a place to start."
"We have to try." Harry set his jaw, his eyes meeting the older man's. The Unspeakable had the same look he'd had when Harry had accused him of mistreating his children. It was a look that said that he pitied Harry and wished he'd stop wasting everyone's time.
"He's right," Tristan spoke up. She stood up and moved to stand beside Harry, giving him a faint smile. "If there's any hope of fixing this mess, we have to find Dumbledore." She looked at her father. "Dad, you've told us a hundred times how powerful and wise Dumbledore is. If there's even a fool's hope he's alive – "
"I'm with Harry," Ginny agreed, standing tall on his other side. "What do we have to lose?"
A series of looks passed between the Unspeakables. At last, Ron spoke. "All right, fine. Let's do it."
Harry grinned at his friend. "I need an owl."
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TBC