Chapter 5: Confrontation

"The days went by. Weeks. Months. Years. The phone never rang again. She never answered another time. No family number to find her. 15 missed calls. 20 missed calls. 100 missed calls. Silence. Not a word. Just a word to know that she's okay. Her face and her voice became a blurry shadow. Deafness. 25 days in Russia. 47 days in France. 60 days in Sweden. 1024 days in Norway. 2 days in Scotland." ~ANIMUS KEY by EarthtoBeru

A famous muggle poet best described life as thus: 'the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry'. Harry and I had worked on our plan for months, and now it was completely in shambles. The Ministry was in disarray; the public wanted justice, and the Savior of the Wizarding World was gone. Hermione was working herself to death trying to find delays in my case, but it was quickly becoming pointless, and I had resigned myself to the fact that I would be as good as dead before anything of fruition came to pass. Imagine my surprise when late one afternoon just days before my 'sentencing' the entire cellblock went pitch black, and mayhem ensued. When the 'smoke' cleared I was being manhandled by a guard I didn't recognize who was shouting out orders to clear the way and to get those 'God awful sludge piles cleaned up'. It was only later as we were well clear of Azkaban prison that I realized I had just been successfully rescued by none other than my cousin Nymphadora Tonks and the wonderful portable swamps of Fred and George Weasley.

"I don't understand," I managed to choke out.

"Hermione got wind that the dementors were coming after you tonight and managed to get word out to some people underground, yeah? I got my orders via owl post and here we are. I'm to take you to #12 and deposit you into the floo where you will be safely delivered to your new hideout."

"Thank you, Tonks. I didn't…I'm not…" I couldn't continue.

"I know. Tell him Hi for us, yeah? Remus really misses him."

"I will." I smiled as we approached our almost final destination.

Exhaustion must have caught up with me because when I woke up I was in quiet possibly the most comfortable bed I had ever been in. I felt clean, and warm, and somewhere nearby I detected the scent of home…Harry…Harry! I immediately jerked awake and frantically examined my surroundings. I had no clue as to where I was and no memory of how I had gotten there. For all I knew this could be some horrible trap. A part of me wanted to call out to Harry, to see if this was real, but another part of me, fueled by overwhelming fear, wished to stay quiet and still as not to be detected. Taking a deep breath I took a closer look at my surroundings. This was definitely someone's home. It was warmly decorated, and comfortable. This was meant to be a safe place, perhaps a safe house for The Order? There were clean clothes from the flat that Harry and I shared, and I could smell food wafting through the bedroom door. This appeared, from the in suite bathroom, to be the master bedroom, so it was highly likely that Harry was somewhere near. Otherwise I am sure the guest bedroom would have been sufficient for my needs.

My stomach decided to announce that it was time for food and as I touched it, I panicked. It was empty; flat; and sore. My baby! What had happened to my baby? I tried to stand, but pain shot up my legs and through my lower abdomen and I screamed as I fell back onto the bed. I heard footsteps racing up the hall and prayed that my assumptions about my new residence were correct.

"Draco!" He said in a voice filled with concern.

"H-Harry?" I gasped out.

"Draco, you're awake! I was so worried. You came through the floo, and then you blacked out, and you started screaming. I thought you were dying! Are you in pain? The Healer left some potions for you, said she would be back to check on you later. You gave us quiet a scare."

All I could do was stare at him. My Harry. The one person I thought that I would never see again. The angel that had haunted my dreams for 7 long, painful months.

"Draco?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Just a little sore." I paused a bit my lip. Damn nasty habits. "Is-"

"He's perfect, Love. Right on time. Ten fingers, ten toes. Storm grey eyes. Wild black hair. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to have regrets. To sacrifice what we have worked so hard for. I'm so sorry."

"Draco. I love you. Just as I will love our son. And I would let it all go, and flee for our lives, if it meant that my family would be safe. This war, Voldemort…none of it matters. I have the one thing I never thought I would have. And you two are not something I am willing to sacrifice. Ever."

"Can I see him?" I asked and Harry beamed and left the room.

Moments later he returned with a tiny blue bundle and gently sat on the edge of the bed before handing him over. Our son was beautiful. He had my high cheekbones and pointy nose, Harrys almond eyes in my storm grey color, and that damned Potter mess of hair, which made him absolutely perfect in every way.

"What shall we name him?"

"I think that honor should fall to you. After all, you carried him for nine months," said Harry, a look of pure adoration on his face.

"Malfoys have horrible names, just so you know. We are pompous gits through and through."

"I know. So…Papa…what will it be?"

I smiled. I was a father. "I like Hyperion."

Harry scrunched up his face. "Hyperion? So everyone can call him Hype? That's dreadful. I like Scorpius myself. Still very Malfoy."

I snorted. "Yeah, so everyone can call him Scorp?"

Harry and I just shared a look and smiled. This was, quiet possibly, the best fight we had ever had.

"What will his last name be?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy-Potter of course," I said without hesitation, but Harry only shook his head.

"No. Potter-Malfoy. He's more your son than mine. You did all the work, and I had all the fun."

"You're such a git Potter," I sneered.

"Yeah, Malfoy. But I'm your git," he smiled cheekily.

"Scorpius Hyperion Potter-Malfoy," I said.

"I like it," smiled Harry.

"Merlin help him when he has to learn his name," I mused and we both laughed.

Harry and I had three blissfully un-interrupted weeks before all hell broke loose and he was called away to the front lines. I selfishly considered asking him not to go, knowing full well he would stay, but I once again reminded myself that this was NOT the world I wanted our son to grow up in, and that as much as we needed Harry here with us, he was needed even more at the forefront of war. It was after all, him, and him alone, that would ultimately defeat Voldemort and end this war. It was several days before I received word from England. Harry and The Clan had met some resistance and were holed up in southern France regrouping and plotting their next attack. Apparently they had received some intelligence about a spy network and were currently trying to gain a way in.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks became months, and no one had heard from Harry. Hermione stopped in as often as she could to check on Scorpius and myself, to make sure we were provided for, and were not in need of anything, and to bring word when she had it, which unfortunately, was few and far between.

Scorpius had just turned six months old when word came. It was the worst sort of word imaginable. Hermione fell through the floo in a fit of tears. She was in a rage and beyond consolable. I don't doubt she cried for hours before I got a coherent word out of her.

"Ron-" was all she said before passing out.

My heart froze in horror. Had she discovered that he was in fact, the spy? Had something happened to Harry? Was Ron to blame for Harrys disappearance? So many questions swirled through my head, and yet I simply picked Hermione up and placed her in bed. She slept all that afternoon and most of the night, and I let her, for fear that what she had to say was not anything I wanted to hear.

"Ron's dead," she said in a voice too cold for the woman I knew.

"Oh, 'Mione," I breathed. Even though we had suspected him, his loss would not be made any easier. "How?"

"Ginny."

"I'm not sure I follow—"

"Ginny. She killed Ron. He found out what she was doing, and he confronted her about it. He tried to help her…to save her…and she," Hermione's breath hitched, "she killed him!" she finally sobbed.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Oh Draco! We had it all wrong! I never imagined…how could she? Ginny is Red! She's the one who has been feeding Voldemort information all this time! Ron figured it out by something she said, and he confronted her on it. She said she had been talking to Tom for years. She called him Tom! Said that he had shown her the way to fame and fortune, and that he was the light! She became his WHORE," she spat, "and she gave him everything. Her friends, her fucking family, her body…everything. And for what? He will kill her just as quickly once he has no use for her. He will use her body up and dispose of her like the garbage she is, and there will be no one to save her then. I hope he kills her slowly. I hope I get to watch."

"Hermione," I started, but what was there to say? Ginny had committed the ultimate crime. She had betrayed her family and her friends; had murdered her own brother when he tried to protect her. There was no greater dishonor. I tried again. "How…who found Ron?"

"Oh Draco!" she breathed. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry! Oh God! Scorp! Oh," Hermione started to panic.

"Hermione! Breathe! From the beginning."

Hermione took several long breaths and started again.

"Ron went to Ginny's flat to confront her. He'd been gone for an hour when his monitoring charm went off signaling distress, so Harry and Blaise went after him using his tracking spell. By the time they got to him, it was too late, and Ginny had fled. They tried all the spells they knew but he…he bled out before they could get him to help. Blaise stayed behind and gathered his memories and Harry…he took off after the dirty little wench. That's been hours ago now. We haven't seen or heard from his since, and his monitoring and tracking spells have been deactivated. We don't know if he's being held against his will, or is wherever he went willingly. I'm so sorry Draco. I wish it was better news."

I sat in silence for quite some time trying to process it all. I was only roused by the sounds of Scorpius crying to be fed.

"Excuse me," I said and swiftly left the room.

Once Scorpius was fed and changed, I placed him in his play pen and went back to Hermione.

"I've been a terrible host, 'Mione. Would you like some tea?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head.

"I…shouldn't keep you. I'm sure you have…do the rest of the Weasleys know?" I asked.

"No, I suppose not."

"I could…go with you…if you wanted. For support? I know they don't particularly like me but…you re my friend Mione…and Ron…well…I cared about the git, ya know?"

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Not at all. It will give me something to do. Keep me distracted. I'll just grab a few things, if that's alright?"

Hermione just nodded, and somewhere, something inside of her finally let go. My heart bled for her. No one deserved this heart ache, but especially not Hermione.

The loss of Ron was a hard one to swallow, but eventually he became just one more causality in this thing called war. The Weasleys struck Ginny from their family tree, publicly denounced her, and joined the fight tenfold, each promising a slow and painful death to the traitor should they find her. The Order regrouped and redoubled their efforts, and Hermione moved in with Scorpius and myself. We helped as much as we could from the sidelines, gathering intel and plotting attacks. Scorpius was now just over a year old, and we had had no further word from Harry since the day he disappeared. I still held on to the hope that he was somewhere in hiding, unable to come back to us, but as Scorpius turned two, my hope started to fade.

Then one day word came, but it wasn't the words I wanted to hear. I had heard them all before, and had forced myself to realize they weren't true, but now, I had no reason to believe that these words were untrue.

"Harry's dead."

He couldn't even look at me.

"No," I said. It wasn't true. Not really. He was just hiding. He had caught on something really good, or he had that muggle thing…amnesia…or…something.

"We found his campsite. There was blood everywhere. His glasses and wand were there. He had a picture of you and Scorp. You need to think about your son, Draco."

"Don't tell me what to do Blaise!" I yelled, and then I broke down.

"Draco, you're my best mate. I chose to be the one to come and tell you. So you would have a friend, and not some stranger. I wanted to be here for you. Harry wouldn't just abandon you, war or not, and he sure as hell wouldn't abandon his son. He loved you both very much. Plus que ma propre vie?"

"Oui," I sobbed.

It was over. My hope was shattered, and my family torn to shreds. It had been 967 days since I had seen or heard from my love. Harry had missed 2 years of his sons' life. I was now faced with the cold reality that he was never coming home.

I spent the rest of that day locked away in my room mourning the loss of my heart. I couldn't face our son, selfish as it was, and so Hermione took him for the day, though she too was in mourning. The next day I took Scorpius to a park, and spent the entire day with him, playing; visiting the zoo; eating pizza and ice cream. I gave him a bath, and told him a story of the The Boy Who Lived, tucked him in, and kissed him goodnight. I found Hermione in the living room.

"Things are bad, aren't they?" I asked.

"They are," she agreed.

"Hermione…"

"I know."

"Am I a bad parent? For leaving him?" I asked with tears in my eyes.

"No," she said softly. "You are the best parent for leaving to protect him. Harry…Harry died so that you and Scorpius would live. No one will fault you for going to make sure Scorp still has that chance. The Resistance is finished. The Clan is barely hanging on. We are lost. We need a new leader. Harry taught you everything. It's time. I will stay here. Protect Scorpius with my life. I swear it."

"If I die…"

"Please don't," Hermione said, pain in her voice. "I can't lose anyone else. I'm selfish. You're all I have left. I need you."

"I think we both need each other, 'Mione…"

And with those parting words, the closest I would ever be to telling another living being that I loved them too, I left to face my fate, a prayer on my lips that my son would not be made an orphan like so many before him...