So . . . I realize that it's been an unforgivable amount of time and I should be making it up to you by giving ya'll and incredibly long chapter . . . but I can't and I have no excuses. The only thing I can offer you is the knowledge that the next chapter will be the epilogue. So . . . yeah . . . sorry

Disclaimer: So to avoid a lawsuit I have to put this up. I don't own Harry Potter or Fruits Basket and therefore have no copyright claims because if I did I probably wouldn't be writing Fanfiction.

Warning: slash, yaoi, boy/boy, Mpreg and such. Don't like don't read. Real simple. Also, Draco/Harry and all other canons.

Chapter 11: The Man of Many Titles

It took the combined force of Hermione's extensive knowledge of spells and Harry's outrageously large amount of magic to make the living room a place where everyone could be seated comfortably. Although, truth be told, Harry didn't know why any of the Weasleys wanted to listen to this – shouldn't they already know all the glory details of the war?

In the end, the living room was stretched to the size of the entrance hall in a Malfoy Manor – which was to say that it was very large. There was a good amount of chairs and sofas situated rather haphazardly in a half-circle around the large fireplace.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together on a little ataman in front of the fire, facing the alarmingly large group.

Draco, with Harry's three children next to him, sat closest to the group, curled up and looking like they were about to be told the best bedtime story ever.

Kyo, Tohru, and Yuki were seated on the sofa next to them, in that order.

The rest of the Sohmas were spread out on the three coaches or armchairs beside them – in their usual groupings (Shigure with Ayame and Hatori, Kureno with Akito, Hiro near Kisa, Rin and Haru, and then Momiji).

The Weasleys took up the next seats (Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, George then Ginny and Percy with Charlie beside him).

Then there were the Dursleys, or at least those that actually cared about Harry – Dudley holding Amaryllis and Gwen beside him.

To finish it out, Luna took the last armchair, bringing the half circle to a close.

Everyone, save Hermione and Ron and maybe even Luna, were staring at Harry in unyielding curiosity, waiting for the tale that made up the boy's life.

"So," Harry drawled after a long moment of silence. He looked over at Hermione as he asked, "where to start?"

"Oh," Hermione said and Harry though she looked very much like she had done in school when the teacher asked a question of her. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had raised her hand.

"I believe it's always best to start from the very beginning," she said in an almost Dumbledore-ish manner.

Harry raised both eyebrows as he considered her answer.

"I suppose," he said slowly, "that it wouldn't hurt."

With that said he turned to face the group and cleared his throat.

"As Hermione just said, the beginning is the best place to start and I suppose the beginning of this story takes place in a small town called Little Hangleton. The town was strictly Muggle and overseen by the Lord of the Riddle House. I think the time was somewhere around the 1910s," here Harry looked questioningly at Hermione who nodded.

Harry smiled a thanks and turned back to look at the group, all of whom looked extremely confused.

"Just a few miles out from Little Hangleton lived a family of three. They were what remained of the once noble house of Slytherin. The Gaunts – Marvolo and his children Morfin and Merope. Marvolo was extremely set in his ways and believed himself and his family to be above the law. It wasn't long before he and his son were arrested for torturing defenseless Muggles. Without her father's influence, Merope took the chance to escape. She fed a mislead Tom Riddle – heir to the Riddle house – a love potion and the two eloped.

"A year into it, Merope found herself pregnant. Foolishly, she believed that Tom would have no choice but to stay with her and so she stopped giving him love potions. Tom shortly left, not caring that the girl was pregnant with his child. Merope fell into a depression and then died after giving birth to her child. Her dying wish, name the child Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Harry paused here to make sure everyone was following him. They were, although they still looked slightly confused. He could kind of understand; he was giving them the condensed version of Tom Riddle's life.

"Little Tom grew up in the orphanage his mother had given birth to him in. He grew up with a reasonable upbringing, if not slightly neglected like all orphans are in orphanages. See, it was a time of war in the Muggle world, World War I was starting, and therefore there were a lot of orphans. So Tom was not deemed special in any way. To the adults he was polite, if not a little quite. To the children, however, it was a different story.

"The children all saw Tom as someone . . . different. He didn't behave like them and he was weird. And, knowing children, what was weird was . . . bullied." Harry pulled a face at this before letting out a sigh. "It wasn't long before Tom felt the need to . . . stand up against the assault. While no one could really blame him for retaliating, the things he did were not . . . right. However, no one could really pin it on him.

"Tom, however, came to realize the things he did were of his own creation and he learned to control it. For once he felt special, different, like he was someone."

Harry drifted off for a moment, the image of little Tom Riddle flitting into his mind. It took an elbow from Hermione to bring him back to the story at hand.

"When Tom was eleven, he got a most strange visitor. It was Albus Dumbledore, come to tell Tom that he was a wizard and that all the special little things he could do was magic. See, Tom Riddle was a wizard and he was invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He went and he was brilliant, smart, and an all around nice guy – even for a Slytherin—"

"What's a Slytherin," Shigure cut in, receiving curious nods all over from those not in the know about Hogwarts and hers workings.

"Slytherin is one of the four Houses at Hogwarts," Hermione rushed to say in her normal overcoming need to share her intense knowledge with just about everyone. "They house the cunning and ambitious. There's also Ravenclaw for the intelligent and bookish, Gryffindor for the brave and courageous, and finally Hufflepuff for the kind and loyal."

"And just so you know," Ron felt the need to add in. "Gryffindors and Slytherins don't mix. At all." And here he threw a glare of distrust in Draco's direction – to which the blonde simply ignore him.

"As I was saying," Harry spoke up over the group to get their attention once more.

"Tom became prefect and the head boy and he even won an award for special services for the school. He graduated and went out into the world to achieve great things – or so many people were lead to believe. Last anyone head of brilliant Tom Riddle was that he had taken up a job at Borgin and Burkes. After that he seemed to disappear off the face of the Earth.

"Around the same time that everyone seemed to be forgetting about Tom Riddle, an unknown pureblood activist began to show up. The mystery person's beliefs were immediately known: he/she did not approve of Muggles or Muggleborns. At first, no one really paid the person much mind – and then the killings started."

Tohru let out a little gasp and Kisa's hand flew up to her mouth.

"They were mild threats, an unknown Muggle dead or some unimportant Muggleborn gone missing."

Tohru gave a little whimper at that, her eyes glossy at the thought of the unknown person dying. Harry continued on although even he was disgusted and saddened by what had occurred during the first war.

"Word spread and rumors were traded but it wasn't given much thought until the killings had escalated to a terrible point. And people began to get scared.

"It was one attack against the Ministry that revealed this new terrorist to be a man by the name of Lord Voldemort. And he had a strong following – wizards who were dressed in black robes and wore masks that concealed their identities."

Harry could tell that everyone was getting into the story now. They had been unfamiliar with Tom Riddle – the supposed intelligent nobody – but Lord Voldemort was someone they had at the very least heard about.

"Fear spread and people grew worried when Voldemort and his followers weren't immediately brought down. But hope was there as long as the Ministry and Hogwarts did not fall to the Dark.

"And while this was going on, and the Ministry seemed to be chasing its tail, Albus Dumbledore – leader of the Light – started up his own group of vigilante soldiers. He called the group the Order of the Phoenix and together they fought to overthrow Voldemort from underneath the Ministry's noses. They were given free reign for the most part.

"It was a full out war by this point. A lot of people were dying and many had fled the country out of fear. It was a very dark time. There seemed no hope.

"And then, in the height of it all, Dumbledore stumbled across what seemed to be a solution. While interviewing a potential teacher for a position at Hogwarts, the supposed prophet gave out a prophecy that spoke of a Savior, a person who would defeat Voldemort. Unfortunately, one of Voldemort's underlings heard the prophecy and he rushed to tell Voldemort all about it."

Harry drew in a deep breath, momentarily breaking everyone out of the daze they had fall in.

Hermione reached over and grabbed Harry's hand, sensing what was coming next, and Ron shot concerned glances at his best friend every now and then.

Everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats, absorbed as they were by the story. There were some sad looks sent toward Harry by those who knew the next part.

Harry took another deep breath and continued on, his voice going flat to keep the emotion from spilling in.

"On October 31st, 1981, Voldemort appeared in a town called Godric's Hallow and he entered the home of a small family. He immediately killed the husband, who was trying to protect his wife and 15-month-old son. The wife ran up the stairs and barricaded herself in the nursery. Voldemort blew the door aside and turned his wand upon the woman.

"He commanded her to hand over the child, but the woman begged him to kill her instead. And so he did. And once she was dead, Voldemort turned his wand onto the baby. And he shot the killing curse at him."

Tohru was sobbing by this point of the story.

It didn't take a genius to know who Harry was talking about. You could hear it in his voice.

The Sohmas were staring at Harry with varying looks of shock, sorrow, sympathy, and guilt.

"But the curse didn't work," Harry powered on, trying to ignore the looks, and the hand squeezing his. "It rebounded off of the baby and hit Voldemort, burning his body and destroying half of the house. Voldemort fled from the place, half-alive, and escaped. And the baby was picked from the rubble and sent live with his last living relative – that was known of at least."

"That's horrible," Tohru whispered when Harry took a minute to collect himself.

He could see all too clearly the scene in his head – how Voldemort had easily killed his parents as if there were nothing but playthings.

"Well I'm pretty sure all of you know that that baby was me," Harry said after a long moment of silence.

"So . . . you managed to defeat an evil wizard when you were only 15 months old," Yuki asked as if wanting clarification.

"Not really, it's kind of complicated," Harry said with a bit of irritation in his voice. He never did like it when people assumed he had defeated Voldemort when he was a baby. It hadn't been him . . . it had been his mother's sacrifice.

"Try us," Kyo challenged.

Harry shot his a glare before turning to Hermione. She had always been good at explaining this kind of thing.

"Um . . . well it's assumed that Harry's mother didn't have to die," Hermione began rather timidly, looking a little uncertain. Harry urged her on and she seemed to gain confidence the longer she spoke. "And since she had been protecting Harry when Voldemort killed her, she sort of . . . sacrificed herself. A sacrifice like this can be powerful magic. It was this protective magic that allowed Harry to survive the Killing curse."

"So . . . your mother defeated Voldemort . . . after she died," Hiro reiterated uncertainly, and he was a little bit startled at the blinding smile Harry sent his way.

"No one's ever said it that way, but that is essentially correct."

"Well that's all good and what not, but I thought there was a war that was a little bit more recent," Rin pointed out.

"Yes there was," Harry agreed. "I wasn't exactly done with the telling."

Rin looked pointedly at him, waiting for him to continue. Rolling his eyes at the girl's attitude, Harry picked up his story once more.

"Alright, so . . . ten years after Voldemort was defeated, I got my acceptance letter, learned that I was wizard and reentered the Wizarding world. Every year at school Voldemort tried to come back to power and every year, along with Ron and Hermione's help, I stopped him. However, in my fourth year, Voldemort was able to gain his body back."

Harry swallowed thickly to get passed the lump that formed in his throat at the thought of his fourth year . . . and Cedric.

"He went into hiding for a year, and he was able to do that because the Ministry was covering up his return —"

"More like ignoring," Arthur snorted from across the room.

"Right. At the end of my fifth year, Voldemort tried to get the prophecy, for he had not heard the whole thing. He was thwarted by Dumbledore —"

"And you and your friends," Molly inputted in a disapproving tone.

Harry ducked his head humbly to avoid her stern gaze.

"And Voldemort was brought into the open. And so the second Wizarding War began. Because of this, and the prophecy that Dumbledore heard —"

"What exactly did this prophecy say," Shigure asked curiously, "Because I'm still not completely sure why someone would want to kill a baby."

Harry bit down on his bottom lip and shot a look at Ron. He lifted his shoulders in an unhelpful shrug and so Harry turned to Hermione. She raised her brows and motioned for him to go on. With a little sigh Harry turned back to face the group.

"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as an equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . .'"

Silence issued as everyone absorbed the words of a prophecy that, until now, only a few had been privy to.

Harry wondered if Tohru would ever run out of tears.

"Right," Harry said awkwardly, searching his mind for where he had left off. "Um . . . oh, yeah – because Voldemort was now in the open, and because of the prophecy, Dumbledore spent all of my sixth year teaching me how to defeat Voldemort.

"See Voldemort feared death, and he tried all he could to become immortal. And he did, in a sense. He created things called Horcruxes. To do this a wizard has to rip apart his soul and store it in an object."

"How do you rip apart your soul," Ayame asked curiously, although he looked faintly disturbed.

"By committing the ultimate crime. Murder," Hermione said in a low tone.

Now the faintly disturbed look turned into mortification and it was mirrored around the room.

"And Voldemort made seven of these," Harry told them. "I managed to get rid of one in my second year and Dumbledore destroyed another one that year. At the end of the year Dumbledore found another one. He and I went on a mission to get and destroy it. However, when we came back Dumbledore was killed."

"Oh no," Tohru moaned and leaned her head on Kyo's shoulder, causing the redhead to tense up a little bit, before relaxing and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"With no Dumbledore, the full task of defeating Voldemort and destroying his Horcruxes fell on me. I knew that I couldn't go back to the school and I knew I couldn't stay out in the open. With Ron and Hermione's help, I set out to destroy Voldemort. It took almost an entire year . . . there were many close calls.

"It was unknowingly we were also racing to obtain the same thing. See, Dumbledore knew he was going to die by the end of the year and so in his will he sent me some items he knew could help me on my journey. He also gave me clues on what I could use to battle against the Horcuxes."

Here Harry paused and looked over at Hermione, who pulled out an old book and then cleared her throat.

"It has to do with a couple of brothers," with that said Hermione cracked open the book and began to read.

"'There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight —'"

"Midnight," George immediately interrupted. "Mum always told us midnight," he then went on to explain when questioning looks were shot his way.

"Yeah, well this is the original so we'll stick with it," Harry told him, although he sounded faintly amused. He then motioned for Hermione to continue.

"'In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.

And Death spoke to them —'"

"Excuse me, what," Hiro interrupted skeptically

"It's a story," Ron told him with a roll of his eyes.

"'And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of the three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.

So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.

Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.

And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.

Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so talking with wonder of the adventure they had had and admiring Death's gifts.

In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination.

The first brother traveled on for a week more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.

That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden upon his bed. The thief took the wand and for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.'"

"Saw that one coming," Haru muttered into Rin's ear.

"'And so Death took the first brother for his own.

Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him.

Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as to truly join her.

And so Death took the second brother from his own.

But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.'"

Hermione closed the book on that note with a satisfied look on her face. Everyone else just looked a little confused, not sure what the story had to do with Harry's life.

"That story," Harry spoke up again, "tells about the three objects only a few know about called the Deathly Hallows. The Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Resurrection Stone – and having all three together makes the person the Master of Death."

"So Dumbledore wanted you to find these items," Draco asked skeptically.

"Exactly."

"But that's impossible," the blonde immediately went to protest. "The wand, sure! The cloak, maybe. But not even magic can bring back the dead!"

Harry arched his eyebrow at the man but did not make a move to dissuade him.

"We found out about the Hallows too late, however, and by that time Voldemort had taken the Elder wand from its previous owner. For a while, things seemed pretty bleak.

"On May 1st, the war reached its boiling point," Harry let out a little sigh. "We call it the Battle of Hogwarts. It was . . . chaotic. I'm not sure how you think a war is, but this . . . there was no order, none whatsoever. It was bloody and painful . . ."

Harry shook his head, trying to dislodge the images that flashed through his head.

Hermione squeezed his hand and he sent her a small smile of thanks.

"In the end it was just me and Voldemort. He had the Elder wand and I had destroyed all of his Horcruxes." Harry paused and closed his eyes. "I won. And that was the end of it."

With that said Harry sat back in his chair.

It was silent in the room for a long time as everyone took the time to absorb all that they had learned.

"So," Draco was the first to speak. "What was all that about that Tom Riddle guy in the beginning."

"Well, Lord Voldemort was Tom Riddle."

"Wait," Narcissa cut in, the first words she had spoke to them all day. "The Dark Lord was a half blood," she asked incrudiously.

Harry nodded and the woman sat back with a strained look on her face.

"Well isn't that ironic," Draco mumbled to himself. Then louder he asked, "What about the Hallows – did you actually find them?"

"Yes, I did. I already had the cloak – that's been passed down in my family for generation. And I won the ward off of Riddle when I defeated him. The stone Dumbledore actually gave to me . . . so essentially I own all the Hallows."

"So you're Master of Death," Kisa questioned with wide eyes.

Harry just stared at her for a long while before answering.

"I have a lot of names. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, the Vanquisher of the Dark, and the Master of Death. But sometimes I'd just like to be seen as Harry. Just plain Harry."

Another silence issued after that. One that seemed to last a long time.

After sitting in it for a while Harry sighed and left the room.

Ron had never realized how unnerving staring was until now and he could now understand why Harry was so against it.

Every Sohma, plus Tohru, were sat in the living room staring at him curiously.

He couldn't even remember how he had landed in this position – and where the bloody hell had everyone else gone?

"So . . . magic," Tohru spoke up uncertainly and Ron felt a surge of affection go out to her – bless her soul.

"Yeah, magic. It's real and we're wizards and all that rot," he told her, feeling in his element now – after all, he was very familiar with magic.

"And there's a . . . Wizarding World," Hatori piped in, picking up when Tohru seemed to be overcome with shyness.

"Yeah. We basically exist alongside Muggles but for the most part we're pretty much separated. We hide our world with magic. There are charms to confuse people or make them forget when they've seen something they can't quite understand."

"I think Harry mentioned something like that, once," Shigure said with a thoughtful expression.

"So can all of you talk to snakes," Ayame questioned, finally getting out a question he'd been dying to ask for a while.

Ron looked questioningly at him before shaking his head.

"No, Parseltongue – snake language – is very rare. In fact, Harry's the only one in existence that can speak it. It's normally inherited through the Slytherin line."

"I thought Slytherin was a house name at that Hogwarts School," Rin questioned suspiciously.

"Yeah, but the house was named after a famous wizard named Salazar Slytherin. All the houses are named after famous witches and wizards."

Rin nodded in understanding, relaxing back against Haru.

"So Hogwarts is a school that teaches magic," Kisa questioned quietly after a stretch of silence.

"Yeah. Acceptance letters are given out when you hit eleven and then you go to Hogwarts for seven years," Ron readily answered.

He vaguely wondered if Hermione was rubbing off on him because he had never answered questions so easily before.

"Why when you turn eleven," Momiji asked curiously with a little tilt to his head.

"Well that's when the Ministry believes our magic has developed enough and that we're mental ready to learn how to use magic."

"Ministry," Akito questioned and Ron settled in with a slight grin, preparing for a very long conversation.

Tohru was no longer sure on what she was supposed to think about her long lost cousin.

After listening to Harry's story, she felt like he was some kind of superhero. He was like a figment of her imagination and she kind of wondered if she had imagined him.

But no, the pain she could see inside of him was real. And now, well now she slightly knew why it was there. After listening to Harry's life . . . everything about him . . . it all just seemed to make sense now.

"Unbelievable, isn't it."

Tohru looked up in shock to see one of the Weasleys, Ginny she remembered Harry calling her, standing in the doorway.

"Harry's life always seemed like a story or show to me, I could only imagine what you're thinking." Ginny walked further into the room and sat on the bed. "But you learn to get used to it the longer he's around."

"It's just a little much to take in," Tohru admitted a little quietly.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed with a little sad sigh.

Tohru peered over at her thoughtfully before finally saying what was on her mind.

"You love him, don't you?"

Ginny looked a little globsmacked, her mouth dropping open in shock before she had the sense to close it and try and stammer out some kind of reply to Tohru's innocent enough question.

"Well . . . I . . . um, yeah but . . . you know," she said unceremonially, waving her hand and hoping a little desperately that Tohru would drop it. Yes, she still loved Harry, and yes she had had a little bit of trouble getting over that love, but still . . .

Tohru was still looking at her thoughtfully, brown eyes filled with compassion.

"It'll get better I'm sure," the Japanese girl finally said. "Time heals all wounds as they say."

Ginny blinked at the younger girl for a moment, still shell-shocked.

To think she had come into the room to see how Harry's cousin was coping and that cousin ended up comforting her.

It was amazing and reminded her so much of Harry that she wasn't even the least bit surprised that the two were related – it must be in their blood to act this way.

"Thanks, Tohru," Ginny to the girl with a little laugh and a shake of her head when Tohru looked a little questioningly at her.

Dudley sat in the spare room Hermione Weasley had given to him for him and his family to stay in, his hands in his hair.

His mind was reeling as he tried to make sense of the shitload of information Harry, his cousin for fucks sake, had given him.

He couldn't help but wonder at how oblivious he had been when he was younger.

Had he really let his mother and father's horrible parenting blind him so much that he hadn't noticed the shit his own cousin had gone through?

That thought in and of itself kind of sickened him and he couldn't believe the amount of selfishness he had dished out when he was a kid.

His only comfort was that he had grown out of it in time to see that his parents had been wrong.

But still . . . to think all that had happened and he hadn't been aware.

It was crazy.

And then there was Harry himself.

Dudley could see how torn up he still was even seven years afterwards so he couldn't even image what it had been like for him going through it. How had Harry even hidden all that crazy stuff anyways?

Dudley shook his head and imagined his thoughts rattling around like LEGO blocks.

"Honey, are you alright?"

Dudley's head jerked up to see Gwen standing in the doorway, Mary sleeping peacefully against her shoulder. Dudley sighed wearily and lifted his shoulders in a jerky shrug.

Looking very much concerned, Gwen placed Mary in the crib Molly Weasley had magic-ed before walking over and sat next to Dudley on the bed.

"You shouldn't be beating yourself up about this," Gwen told him soothingly, rubbing his tense shoulders.

"I just don't understand how I could have been so oblivious," Dudley moaned into his hands, rubbing them down his face and then through his hair. "He went through hell and back and I didn't even have an inking."

"Stop being so hard on yourself," Gwen scolded although her hands never stopped their soothing massage. "You couldn't have known. It's obvious he doesn't talk about it. And you told me yourself that you two didn't exactly get along when you were younger."

Dudley had to admit that she was right – as always – but that still didn't make him feel all that much better. He still felt like he should have at least guessed.

Hadn't Harry mentioned something happening when those Dementor things attacked them?

And Dudley had just sat there like a lump and accused him while he was going through all this shit.

"Stop it," Gwen commanded him sternly. Her small hands cupped his face and she turned his head so that he could see her hard expression. "You can't do anything about the past so stop beating yourself up over it. If you really want to do something you'll start now."

"But —"

"She's right"

For the second time in ten minutes Dudley found himself staring at someone in the doorway.

Harry gave him a small grimace before making his way into the room.

"Even though this makes me a slight hypocrite to say this, you really can't beat yourself up over the past. It just makes you bitter and miserable."

"Says you," Dudley muttered lowly to which Harry snorted. "I don't even know how you can stand there and try and ease my mind," he then said, looking up at his cousin with a million questions burning in his eyes.

"I've gotten over it. Let sleeping dogs lie and all that rot," the dark-haired man said with a shrug.

"You can't really have forgotten everything I've done to you," Dudley asked in disbelief.

"Well, no, I can't. But seeing as I now have two kids with my former enemy, I can't really hold it against you. We'll just chalk it up to bad parenting and leave it at that."

Dudley continued to blink up at him in shock before he finally shook his head.

"You're too good. I'm not even sure how you turned out that way given the hand you've been dealt."

"I like to call it being optimistic."

Narcissa sat in the kitchen, seated comfortably in the breakfast nook as she sipped at a cup of tea Molly Weasley had given her.

She was pretty much alone with her thoughts, the closest person being the Lovegood girl who was humming on the little porch outside of the window.

As Narcissa sipped her tea, she thought over the information she had just gained from Potter.

The mere thought of the Dark Lord being nothing but a half-blood scared of dying and scorned from abandonment was very much ironic. To think that for years she had served under a man that was an object of what he preached against . . .

Narcissa scowled into her cup, her temper simmering for a moment before she realized that she really couldn't do anything about it. The Dark Lord was dead after all.

But still . . .

"Mother?"

Narcissa looked away from her simmering reflection in the brown water of her cup

Draco was standing there, his expression carefully confused.

"Do you not like the tea," he asked, his voice as careful as his expression and it was then that Narcissa realized she was holding the cup so tightly that her knuckles looked white.

Sighing, she placed the cup down with a soft clink.

"No, it is not that." Draco arched both brows questioning her silently. "It's just rather irksome how the wool has been pulled over my eyes, many of pureblood's eyes, for so long."

To this Draco nodded understandingly.

"But it's the past and we can't do anything about it," he told his mother softly.

"Too right you are. I simply lost myself for a moment."

A silence fell over the two of them and Draco moved about in the pretense of making himself a cup of tea. Narcissa watched him carefully and from the tenseness in his shoulders she knew that he knew where the conversation was about to head.

"Did you talk to Potter?"

Draco sighed softly and put down the tea pot, picking up his cup and taking a long drink before turning to look at his mother. Narcissa noted that he looked nervous and she was pleased that she could see bits of her son shining through his carefully placed mask.

"I did," he finally admitted after a long moment.

Narcissa waited and when no more was said she prompted, "And?"

"He's . . . he told me . . . I . . ." Draco trailed off uncertainly and Narcissa was intrigued by his stunted admission.

She continued to stare at him, wondering if what Potter had told him was that earth shattering that it had shaken him up.

"It was a natural birth," Draco finally blurted out. "No potions or . . . or spells or . . . or anything."

Narcissa blinked, her hand frozen in the act of lifting her cup to her mouth. After a rather tense silence she put the cup down and turned fully to face her only son.

"Pardon me, but I'm not quite sure what you mean? Natural birth with no potions or spells? That's impossible," she rambled. "No male birth is possible unless the pregnant party has a magical creature inheritance."

Narcissa looked inquiringly over at Draco who was steadfast avoiding her gaze.

Like a puzzle piece suddenly fitting into place it all made sense.

"Potter has a creature inheritance," she said out loud and Draco made a little chocking sound. Narrowing her eyes, the Malfoy matriarch demanded, "What is it then?"

Draco blinked, jerking his gaze over to his mothers.

"What?"

"What is it," Narcissa repeated, sounding like she was talking to a young child.

"Wait," Draco said, putting up his hand in a halting motion. "You mean you don't care?"

Now it was Narcissa's turn to arch both brows at him.

"And why should I? Was it I who preached all that pureblood spew to you? I have no problem with it . . . unless its' something degrading of course. I'm not too sure how I would react if he were part fey, they're an uncultured lot altogether."

Draco had to laugh at that one, his face splitting into a smile Narcissa hadn't seen in so many years.

"No, no mother, he's not a fey," the young man reassured her.

"Well then, what is he," Narcissa questioned when Draco was not so forthcoming with the answer.

"He's a Nyx."

And then Narcissa had a moment of unMalfoyish behavior.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise and Draco could not help but grin brightly at her.

"Well," Narcissa managed after a moment. "Tie me up and call me a Cornish Pixie."

The resounding laughter that followed was sure to keep Narcissa Malfoy in a good mood for years to come.

Steam billowed up and spread quickly around the room, filling it with humid air.

Harry let out a long content sigh as he ducked his head under the steady stream of hot water.

Slowly, like the water running down his bare back, Harry allowed his mind to empty and his body to finally relax.

Tohru was safe, the Sohmas were safe, his children were safe . . . everything was perfect.

"Ah," Harry shouted out, jumping up when he felt cold arms wrap around his waist.

He spun around, wondering who in the bloody hell would think to attack him in the shower – and with a curse on his lips.

"Someone's jumpy."

Harry glared at the blonde, trying to remove the hands that seemed to have glued themselves to his hips.

He settled for a glare when he was unsuccessful.

"You're in my shower," the Savior grounded out.

Draco lifted a finely arched brow before looking about him in mild shock.

"Why yes, I do believe I am."

Harry had to struggle to control his rage – and his growing arousal.

"Maybe I need to spell it out," he said between his teeth. "Why are you in my shower?"

Draco smirked and, instead of answering, leaned down to nuzzle Harry's neck.

A small gasp escaped Harry when he felt Draco placing hot, openmouthed kisses up his neck. For a moment he forgot his question, basking in the glow of the attention he was receiving and the lust curling in his stomach.

He trailed his fingers down Draco's back, writhing under the feel of the blonde's tongue trailing down his neck, over his collarbone and then down his chest. The heat from the shower was clouding his thoughts and he felt like he was just likely to explode.

Harry stumbled a little as Draco pushed him back.

His bare back hit the cold tile of the shower wall, making him gasp in shock at the sudden change in temperature. And then he was gasping for a whole other reason when he felt hot, all encompassing heat cover his throbbing erection.

Harry looked down to see Malfoy kneeling on the floor, his head burying in Harry's lap and his mouth filled with Harry's cock.

Harry just about came right then and there.

One of his hands came up to tangle in Draco's hair and then other went to trying to grab something behind him to hold onto – but all he came up with was slippery walls.

Draco's tongue was running down the underside of his dick, and then over the tip, and Harry could feel his orgasm building up quickly in his stomach.

And just when he felt like he couldn't take anymore . . .

Draco stopped.

The blonde pulled back and looked up at Harry with a self-satisfied expression.

"Wh-why," Harry panted, his hand still wrapped in Draco's hair. "Why did you stop?"

Draco cocked his head to the side before standing up slowly.

"Oh, I thought you didn't want me in your shower?"

Harry glared halfheartedly up at the aristocrat.

"Git," he muttered, to which Draco laughed.

"Really Potter? And here I thought you wanted me to help you out."

Harry was pretty sure that if he hadn't been so aroused he would have hexed the smirk right off of the blonde's pointy face.

"Come now Potter, all you have to do is ask."

Harry flushed bright red and turned away. He would not be reduced to begging, if he had to, he'd finish it himself.

"Potter," Draco cajoled, nuzzling Harry's neck before placing fluttering kisses along his jaw.

Harry growled in annoyance, because really it wasn't fair that his mate had to be such a Slytherin.

"Fine," he finally caved, turning to face Draco.

He lifted his arms and wrapped them around the ex-Slytherin's neck, pulling him in close so that he could kiss him. The action took Draco by surprise for a moment but he was quick to participate.

Pulling back slightly, Harry peered up at the blonde through his eyelashes and breathed, "Please."

He could see Draco's Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed thickly, and for a moment he was thoroughly pleased with himself.

That was quickly replaced with surprise when Draco lifted him up and began to ravish his mouth.

Harry moved his legs to wrap around Draco's waist and shivered when he felt the blonde's cock pushing against his entrance. Harry could feel the need to be filled by Draco consuming him and he pushed his hip down eagerly.

Draco slid in easily, buried deep inside Harry, and he let out a deep groan with a curse into Harry's shoulder.

Harry hardly noticed; his head filled with lust and the Nyx purring deeply in his mind.

And then Draco was moving and Harry felt like he was tipping off the edge of the world.

Vaguely he wondered if he'd ever get used to having sex with Draco – because every time seemed just as new and overwhelming as the first.

It was over too soon for Harry's taste, but then again he hadn't really expected it to last too long given the state he had been in before they began going at it like wild rabbits.

The water from the shower was turning lukewarm now, raining down on Harry and Draco's limp forms.

Harry felt like he wouldn't be able to move for a couple of days – and he was perfectly fine with that. He was content to lean against the now slightly warm tiles behind him, with Draco pressed against him and the blondes head cradled against his shoulder.

"This is insane."

Harry's head turned down a little, but there was no point as Draco's face was still pressed into his shoulder.

"You mean us," Harry asked quietly and shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, it is insane."

Draco muffled a laugh in Harry's shoulder.

"Yes, the 'us' is a little insane, but that's not what I was talking about."

Harry arched a brow questioningly even thought Draco couldn't see it. But it didn't matter because the blonde continued anyways.

"What's insane is how much I still want you."

This admission made Harry bark out a laugh because he wholeheartedly agreed.

Even now, after that amazing round of shower sex, Harry wanted to climb out and pull Draco into his room so they could go at it again.

"We just need to get used to each other, that's all," Harry muttered although he didn't quite believe it.

Draco lifted his head finally just so Harry could see the incrudious expression on his face.

Harry laughed and pushed at the other man's shoulder.

"Come on, we should probably get out before everyone gets ideas."

"Let them," he heard Malfoy mumble.

So . . . I didn't like this chapter. It didn't turn out like I had planned at all . . . which is why it took so long. Really I was planning on Ginny acting all sneaky and bitchy and what not, but then I remembered that this is supposed to be strictly cannon – except the whole Harry/Draco thing – and so no bitchy Ginny. And it worked anyways. I'm just an unsatisfied writer. Anywho, I put this up as soon as I finished it, meaning there were probably some errors. I'll come back to that on a later day. I don't know when the last chapter will be up but let's all pray that it'll be soon, m'kay? ttfn!