The Good Son
Chapter Twelve
Flight of the Dove
She walked with a purpose through the halls of her previous employment, her eyes hard and unyielding as she moved with a grim demeanour her former employees had never seen before. They stared and whispered, harsh gossip and envious murmurs, pointing accusing fingers at the middle aged witch who clutched a folder of documents to her as if they were worth gold and platinum. She didn't care for those filthy glares, she fixed them with her own, her chocolate eyes crackling with an energy that made it very clear that she was a war heroine and that she was still to be feared.
His secretary tried to stop her, rising from her desk and moving to block her path. She raised an eyebrow at the little chit, eyeing the voluptuous raven haired cretin with a disdainful once over. She remembered the girl from her own days at the Ministry, Romilda Vane, shunted from department to department because quite frankly she was absolutely useless. She seemed to have risen high though, senior secretary to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The brunette glared, sending Romilda scarpering back for the relative safety of her desk and Hermione chuckled despite herself. It would seem that sleeping with the boss gained her position but not courage.
"I love what you've done with the place," said Hermione in a smug tone as she walked into his office, causing him to look up from his own stack of paperwork. In her days, the office had been neat and orderly. Now it seemed as if a tornado had struck, sending her once carefully stacked folders and files crashing around the room. A bottle of oak matured mead, Madam Rosmerta's finest; lay half empty on the desk, near a pair of crystal tumblers that were stained slightly by hard use.
"What are you doing here?" asked Harry venomously, taken aback by the way she sat across from him as though she owned the office, she was not somebody he wished to see . . . ever.
"Getting my husband's release forms signed," said Hermione curtly, placing her folder onto the desk and extracting a thin stack of documents, "I understand you wish to extend his stay in Azkaban for another three years."
"You understand correctly," he laughed harshly, "What makes you think I would allow a death eater his freedom?"
"He has served a year Harry," said Hermione, her tone unyielding, "I will see him freed today."
"You don't have that authority," said Harry snidely, "You threw it all away for death eater scum. What happened to you Hermione? The girl I knew would never shack up with a ferrety bastard."
"Strange you should mention that," smirked Hermione, unruffled by his insult, "The boys I knew would never abuse their children, commit murder and then bury evidence to bail each other out of a life sentence, one we both know Ron deserves."
"Ron is a war hero," stated Harry in a tone of superiority, "Certain allowances are to be made, he served time for his crime, but his services to the wizarding world are enough to forgive a few minor lapses in judgement."
"Curious then that in my absence, cold-blooded murder now warrants a fine and six months whilst invoking an unforgivable to defend one's children requires one, no, now four years in Azkaban," pointed out Hermione, she shook her head at her once best friend, "Your parents and Sirius would be ashamed of you." Harry recoiled as if struck, hurt evident in his eyes, she had hit him where it hurt the most – well he went after her family, he would soon learn that Hermione was a Malfoy in more than just name.
"Despite your ridicule and slander of me in the past few years," continued Hermione, her voice bitingly cold now, "The name Hermione Granger still carries weight in this world; you do not want me as your enemy Harry. So I suggest you sign the release."
"Are you threatening me?" he scowled, recovering from her earlier insult (a home truth), "Need I remind you that I can give you a cell right beside your dear husband for such a threat?"
"You can but you won't," said Hermione in a self-assured voice that he hated, she had always been more intelligent, more powerful – not in raw magical ability, but in magical skill – and he was not ready to fully take her on. In time yes, the day would soon come when the Malfoys paid their dues.
"Why won't I?"
"Because I have Albus' memories," Harry hissed angrily when she brought up his son, "His memories are very incriminating when it comes to you, Rose is healed enough to give full testimony against Ron, Scorpius and Cassiopeia brings the wealth and political connections of Malfoy Holdings to our side, and let us not forget Hugo; my son is a broken mess since Ron killed his girlfriend, you should never underestimate a mother's thirst for revenge when her children have been hurt."
Harry cursed under his breath, defeated, he fixed her with an icy glare but signed Draco Malfoy's release forms anyway, his pride stung by her smug smirk of victory.
"This isn't over Hermione," spat Harry as she collected the papers and rose from her seat to leave.
"Touché Harry," said Hermione with a grim look in her eyes, "This is just the beginning."
(*)(*)(*)
"Do you James Sirius Potter take Alison Hannah Longbottom to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to nurture and to cherish, to love and to protect, in sickness and in health . . ." the Minister rambled on and on, James tuning him out and waiting for his lips to stop moving so that he could day his line. In the front row sat his mother and future mother-in-law; both dabbing their eyes tearfully. Harry sat near them, a smile on his face. Lily rolled her eyes and winked, making a rude gesture with her fingers signifying what he and Alison would be doing on their honeymoon. The rest of his extended family was sprawled around the audience, their red hair standing flaming in the sunlight. He spied Albus sitting in the second row, a bright grin, eerily reminiscent of his god-brother Teddy with his hand clasped around that of Cassiopeia Malfoy. She gave him a knowing look that seemed to say, "You owe me." The mere fact that they were present was enough to make James break down in tears of happiness; Albus had all but disowned his family after the incident at his graduation.
"I do," he said when finally the minister stopped blathering, earning a brilliant smiled from his bride, who began paying rapt attention to the Minister as he began spouting the exact same lines to her. Beside him, his three groomsmen were all flirting shamelessly with their relative bridesmaids, save for Joshua Jordan who didn't play for that team. Instead, Josh kept glancing at his cousin Louis, who smirked suggestively in reply –James didn't want to think about that. Beside him, blue hair swaying slightly in the wind, his best man Teddy smiled, a smile identical to the one James was accustomed to seeing on his brother Albus.
"I do," said Alison, and he grabbed her and pulled his new wife in for a searing kiss before the Minister could begin boring them to death again. Uncle George wolf-whistled approvingly.
"Then by the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now continue what you are currently doing," the Minister shook his head in irritation as the crowd rose as one, applauding the newlyweds.
He turned to his best man as Alison turned to her maid of honour, a bright grin on his face, "Thanks bro."
"Anytime mate," said Teddy in Albus' voice, "You know how I love to pull one over on our dear father."
Really, Harry should have known. Albus was a potions master and Teddy was a metamorphmagus. It hadn't been difficult for the three brothers and Cassiopeia to find a way around Harry's ruling. The four of them were the only ones who knew that the hipflask attached to "Teddy's" belt was filled with polyjuice potion, nobody noticed that halfway through the ceremony "Albus'" hair had filled with a few streaks of turquoise before fading back to their inky black when Cass nudged him. The three were brothers, their houses would never change that no matter how estranged they became.
"You're still my baby brother Al," murmured James as his brother disappeared into the crowd to change back to himself and for Teddy to do the same. It didn't matter to him that the photos would show Teddy as his best man, that everyone thought it had been Teddy.
He knew it had been Albus . . . and that was all that mattered.
(*)(*)(*)
Lily Potter settled silently in the corner booth of the Hogs Head pub, glancing over her shoulder every few minutes to ensure she had not been followed. Her school trunk, laden with all her belongings, had been magically shrunken and enchanted with a featherweight charm before being stowed away in her pocket. Her ruby hair was hidden by her dark hood, her silhouette shrouded by her flowing cloak. She had snuck of the castle tonight, for what would no doubt be the last time; she couldn't deny it any longer. She would have to leave Hogwarts . . . there was no chance in hell that she could remain, not now. She waited impatiently, her foot tapping on the dank stone floor beneath the battered table, her fingers strumming an eerie rhythm across the half rotted wood.
The door creaked open, the little bell tinkling to signify the arrival of another patron, Lily looked up and sighed in relief as she recognized him, ever beneath his own hood and cloak. She had heard rumours over the past eighteen months, dark rumours that she dared not believe, of mysterious deaths and a new movement, slowly gathering power in the outskirts of her father's perfectly ordered world. He settled across from her, a faint smile on his face as he took in the sight of her . . . they hadn't seen each other in nearly one and a half years. But he was the only one she could trust in this moment, she was only a few months into her seventh year at Hogwarts, she was still legally a minor, she didn't dare go to her mother lest word of her actions inevitable reach her father. It was no secret that Harry had his agents keeping tabs on Ginny. She couldn't contact Scorpius either, he and Hermione were very busy trying to maintain Malfoy Holdings and Harry was watching them both. Draco had served a year in Azkaban, much to the protest and anger of the Slytherin community. Especially after Ron had been made to pay a massive fine, make financial restitution to the Williams family and then been placed under six months in Azkaban – he had gotten off by pleading mental instability due to the "pain caused by Hermione's infidelity" and had also used his title as a member of the illustrious Golden Trio. She didn't doubt her own father had pulled strings, and as the name Ronald Weasley – War Hero – carried significant weight in the magical world, there were very few wizarding judges alive who would dare convict him to Azkaban for a life imprisonment as he deserved. Hermione had been furious, but when they had tried to extend his prison stay she had gone after them with fire and blood. Now she was too busy having to care for Draco, whose incarceration had broken him emotionally. She had heard from Cass that he was doing better now, his nightmares and paranoia were beginning to leave him under Hermione's loving administrations but the injustice still rankled.
"You called baby sister?" asked Albus, his green eyes filled with amusement. How she had missed him, her big brother. She had only caught glimpses of him the previous year when he had showed up to visit Cass, Albus was very busy these days; the Outcast movement was gathering a lot of support and many others had been sighted wearing the strange tattoo she had seen on her boyfriend and brothers wrist. Claire Williams was their symbol, every Slytherin family in Britain knew her name, the injustice of her murder, and how her murderer had gotten off with a slap on the wrist because he had been a war-hero whilst she was just another Slytherin. She had been seeing Scorpius since the end of her fifth year and he had made a point to visit her during Hogsmeade visits – he had always told her how Albus was doing, Albus had broken of all ties with the family after Rose's stabbing – but when she needed him he had come and that was all that mattered.
"I need help Al," she said quietly, the strain in her voice rapidly dimming his mirth and he was instantly alert, concern evident on his hooded features.
"What do you need?" he asked, his eyes darting around the room to ascertain that they were not being watched. Lily was still a student; no doubt a nosy villager would have her carted straight back to the castle if they noticed her.
"I need to leave the country," she said urgently, "I need a new identity, a new wand, but most importantly I need to get as far from Britain as I possibly can."
"What brought this on?" asked Albus, feigning calm as internally he reeled in shock, what could his baby sister have done that she needed to flee, that she was willing to take a new wand so that nobody could trace her magical signature. Lily looked at her brother, a few tears filling her eyes, wondering if she could tell him . . . her decision was made when she saw the concern and worry evident in his gaze. This wasn't James or Teddy, the brothers who would cart her to her parents to "solve it as a family should," this was Albus, he would respect her decision no matter what. He had trusted her with the knowledge that he had been abused, therefore she knew she could trust him with her condition.
"I'm pregnant," Lily whispered, "And I can't stay here anymore."
Albus visibly recoiled, his mask of indifference slipping as shock alone splayed across his face. This was not what he had envisioned in the slightest, but a part of him understood his sisters need to flee – he remembered what had happened to Rose when Ron had thought she was just dating a Zabini. Hugo had been a mess for six months after the incident, his grades had slipped, he had turned to dark magic and had become a ghost of himself.
"Why though?" he asked as he regained his composure.
"You saw what happened to Rose when Ron thought she was dating Delphin; and he doesn't even acknowledge her as his daughter anymore, what do you think dad will do to me if he finds out I'm pregnant with Scorpius Malfoy's son," she said fearfully, "I'm not going to let them hurt my baby Al, even if I have to spend the rest of my life on the run."
"The protection of the manor–" began Albus before she cut him off.
"I'm not going to raise my child in hiding Albus," she said fervently, "I want him to have a normal childhood, and he's not going to have that here in Britain."
"C'mon," said Albus softly, extending him arm for her to grab on to, "Let's apparate to my office, it's late, everyone is probably at home, I can get you sorted and you can be gone by dawn."
(*)(*)(*)
He was on the shores of the Black Lake, walking aimlessly when he saw her, dirty blonde hair flowing in the wind as she dipped her legs into the chill waters. The Giant Squid flourished its tentacles lazily in the distance as he made to approach her, hesitant yet needing to see her, even if it was just an illusion.
"You couldn't protect me Hugh," murmured Claire quietly, seeming to not notice he was behind her, tossing a few pebbles into the water. They splashed dully, gentle ripples flowing from where they had made contact and sank. Sank, just as she had sank into his arms, her throat cut, her eyes glassy and lifeless.
"I tried you know," he whispered, coming up beside her and taking a seat Indian-style on the shore, "I swear I tried."
"It wasn't enough," she said softly, not looking up at him, preferring to stare out across the dark expanse of the lake.
"I'm so sorry Claire. I'm so sorry," he pleaded for forgiveness, "I was too far away when he killed you." It was true, he had gone to get them drinks, two butterbeers and when he turned at the noise, it had been too late to save her.
"You as good as killed me yourself," she whispered hauntingly, and before his eyes bloody crease began to etch itself across her throat, her eyes filling with tears as scarlet spilled across her white blouse.
"No . . ." whispered Hugo, as she slipped into the waters, disappearing under the murky depths before he could save her, losing her once more.
"NO! Come back Claire!" he cried, his flaring open as he felt somebody shaking him by the shoulders. Strawberry blonde waves filled his vision, streaked through with hot pink; he squinted sleepily to see who it was, meeting her aqua blue eyes and shaking his head. Francesca Montague, a girl in his year, one of Claire's former dorm-mates.
"You ok Hugo?" she asked in concerned, her face pale – she had heard him cry out for Claire, who had been a close friend of hers, even if she hadn't taken her death as badly as Hugo had – "You were crying out and shaking."
"'Mfine," he mumbled, realising he was curled up on one of the couches of the common room, his Potions Textbook lying abandoned on the floor, having fallen from his grasp when he fell asleep.
"You know," said Francesca comfortingly, sitting down and placing his head on her lap, he flinched away but slowly lay it back down when she started stroking his blonde hair, "I miss her too, but you can't let your grief consume you Hugo."
"She was your friend," said Hugo tiredly, "But she was my girlfriend, and I never got the chance to tell her that I loved her. I never get to fall asleep holding her again, I never get to spend half the night talking to her, curled up by the fire."
"I know," said Francesca quietly.
"No you don't know!" yelled Hugo, "You don't know what it feels to lose somebody you love and then have the bastard who murdered her get away scot free just because she was a Slytherin!" Francesca seemed unfazed by his outburst, though a single tear welled in her left eye, instantly making Hugo regret his harsh words.
"I had a sister you know," she said in a thick voice.
"You had a sister?" asked Hugo, realising her implication and feeling absurdly guilty for implying she didn't know the pain of losing someone.
"She died," she said, her voice still thick with unshed tears, "When I was ten, she was killed in an Auror raid. A miscast spell you know, she was eleven, due to start Hogwarts in a month. Seraphim was always a curious girl, she heard the shouts and the saw the flashes of light and she left out room to investigate. I was too scared to go with her."
"I'm sorry," said Hugo, it seemed the appropriate thing to say and he was at a loss of words on how else to respond.
"Thing was," continued Francesca as if he had not spoken, "There was no reason for them to raid our Chateau, it was just because my granddad supported Voldemort in the last war. Sera died because those in power couldn't let go of the old stereotypes. And her death got brushed under the rug, the auror responsible just got two weeks suspension."
"How did you get over losing her?" asked Hugo, looking up at her, there were tears in both their eyes now.
"You get over losing a wallet . . . or a watch. But a loved one, that pain stays with you. They never really go away, it stays with you forever, and we can never truly get over losing them. Instead you just have to learn how to move on, to live your life for them. Even if they're not here, you have to remember they won't want you to waste your life grieving."
(*)(*)(*)
"Unicorn hair, mahogany, twelve and three quarter inches," Lily noted as Albus handed her a new wand, which he had extracted from behind a portrait on his wall. She had been astounded by the things he had secreted in the hidden safe, but several floo calls later and an owl had delivered the relevant paperwork and documents for her. It was half past one in the morning, she could tell that her brother was dead on his feet as he ploughed on to finalise everything she would need for her departure.
"If Scor had kept his wand in check, you wouldn't be in this mess," snapped Albus bitterly, like as not this was the last time he would see his sister in his life. Both of them knew without having to say it that she could never return without having a target painted on her unborn child's back and Lily was not the type to willingly endanger a person that she loved.
"Who told you he made the first move," she forced herself to grin, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.
"Speaking of Scorpius," said Albus, causing her to bite her lip nervously, "What are you going to tell him when he gets here in . . ." he checked his watch, "ten minutes."
"You called him?" cried Lily in alarm, "I was going to leave him a letter!"
"You don't think he deserves more than that," said Albus shrewdly, "I thought you were the Ravenclaw, use your common sense Lily, you're about to disappear of the face of the world with his child and not even tell him?"
"You're right," she muttered, somewhat petulantly, "I just don't know what to say to him. What if he tries and stops me."
"Your Portkey leaves in twenty five minutes," he said, handing her a ring, "Put it on, that way you have fifteen minutes to talk and then you'll leave before he can stop you." It left a bitter taste in his mouth that he was being an accessory to something that would no doubt hurt his best friend and future brother-in-law, but Lily was family. He had precious little when it came to family.
"My papers?" she asked softly, knowing what her brother was risking for her.
"Here," he handed her a stack of documents, "You are now Selene Rivers and I've called in a few favours, you'll be finishing your final year of school at the Salem Academy of Magic . . . here" he added as an afterthought, handing her a heavy bag – enchanted with an undetectable expansion charm – that jingled with gold, "It's all the money I have in the office, it's too late to go to Gringotts but there's twenty thousand galleons in there."
"Albus . . ." she didn't know what to say, "This is too much. . ." she managed finally.
"You are my sister," he said firmly, "and you will be raising my nephew. You need it more than I do."
(*)(*)(*)
Hermione sighed deeply as she settled down in the large double bed she shared with her husband, who was currently fast asleep beside her, a half empty vial of dreamless sleep lying on his bedside table. She missed him, the man he had been before his imprisonment, before the dementors have emotionally tortured him for a year – Hermione of all people knew what dark memories her husband would have had to live through – and though he was healing slowly, she doubted he would ever be the same. She still loved him, she would die loving him, and she couldn't help but begin to hate her former friends and allies for hurting her family so badly.
Hugo hadn't responded to her letters since the incident, there had been letters coming from Hogwarts bearing his name but Hermione was no fool, she could tell that her son's best friends were the ones writing the letters; probably on her son's askance, written in an attempt not to worry her. She made it a point to be at Hogsmeade on his weekends out of school, even if not to talk to him, because really, what teenager would want to spend time would their mother on their days off from school. No, Hermione went just to catch a glimpse of him, to assure herself he was still healthy. She was at least certain he was eating; his friends Alex and Damon had assured her they were forcing him to eat regularly.
Rose carried herself with an air of sadness that no teenager should have too, the knowledge that she could never carry children had been a punch in the gut to her, the knowledge that she had lost her first child even more so. She had admitted to her mother that she hadn't been ready for a child, that at that stage of her life she didn't see one in her plan and had only suspected carrying it, so she hadn't felt the loss so keenly. Nonetheless, she had lost a child and Hermione had never been more grateful for Delphin Zabini's presence in their lives – those first few weeks, he had been the only one who could get her to eat, or sleep, or shower. Now though, Rose had thrown herself into the Outcast movement, using her position as a student of magical law to spread the group's ideology with her fellow students.
Cassiopeia and Scorpius were both floundering trying to keep their father's business aloft, both were fresh out of school and though they had sharp skills when it came to finance and management, they lacked the experience to maintain such a large conglomerate. Hermione helped as much as she could, but with her own business interests needing constant supervision – she had been working on a new venture before that faithful graduation night when it all went to hell – but the bad publicity since the incident had caused her immense difficulties and the project was taking much more time and galleons that initially expected.
Then there was Albus, her fifth cub, the one who had joined her family – who had first been nephew, then became a surrogate son and now if she was correct in her assumptions, having been cleaning his room the other day and finding a very tasteful ring secreted on his bookshelf, that he would soon be a son-in-law. Hermione spent most of her time working from home these days, so that she could be close to Draco if he needed her, and so when she got bored she usually cleaned. With the exception of Rose's room, ever since she had gone in there to collect the laundry and found a riding crop. No, she refused to think of that – Rose had Delphin did not do such things – she convinced herself. They had house elves to be sure, but Hermione had been raised a muggle-born and was therefore not completely comfortable about having them do all the work, and to alleviate her own distress over the matter, she had taken to doing housework, much to the elves protest. The House Elves of Malfoy Manor; were much to their own horror and to Hermione's delight, the only elves in Britain to be paid wages and given a proper uniform.
"'Mione," whispered Draco sleepily as she shifted beside him, trying to get comfortable. He moved, twisting until she felt an arm loop around her back and hold her comfortingly close, "I'm sorry being for being so difficult these past few months 'Mione," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and the heavy with the effects of the potion.
"It's ok Draco," Hermione whispered as she snuggled against him, "We'll be ok."
He pressed his lips to her forehead before closing his eyes, quickly falling back to sleep, but staying awake long enough to make sure Hermione was peacefully asleep first. Only then, when he was sure she was out for the night, did he allow himself to stop fighting the potion and succumb to its effects.
(*)(*)(*)
"WHAT THE BLEEDING HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE LEAVING!" screamed Scorpius, and Albus was thankful he had had the good sense to silence his office before his blonde friend had arrived.
"Hear her out Scorpius," Albus said wearily, his head resting on his hand as the other absently tapped across his desk. A potion simmered nearby, one of his latest creations that required to brew for seven days before it would be ready for the next ingredient. When it was ready it would be an extremely lethal one of a kind poison that was untraceable, which had been ordered by the Williams Family, for the price of eighteen thousand galleons. Albus often did work like this, using the earnings to help keep Malfoy Holdings afloat. Even with Hermione's keen financial skills and Scorpius' inherited business acumen, neither had Draco's formidable experience and the Malfoy patriarch was still not ready to return to work after his stay in Azkaban. Cassiopeia had Albus both led the potions department of the business, Cass managing the legal side of the business whilst Albus dealt with the illegal. He also led the Outcasts, a group which was rapidly growing in numbers.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HEAR HER OUT, SHE'S TAKING MY KID FROM ME"
"Would you rather I stay then?" asked Lily in an acid tone, "And force you to have to bury your son when my father finds out?" Scorpius recoiled, thinking of Rose and Delphin, still grieving for having lost a child – she had been in the fifth week of her pregnancy when stabbed - but the death blow was that the damage to Rose's womb had rendered her infertile and that she couldn't carry a child for the rest of her life.
"Please don't go Lily," he said in a voice that was significantly softer, "I can keep you safe."
"I can't," she whispered, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, "You know I can't . . . Please don't make this any harder than it already is."
"I love you," he said softly, pulling her into a tight embrace, "I will bring you home one day . . . I promise I won't rest till Britain is safe for you and my child," he was serious. Even if he had to kill every single person who held a prejudice against his family, even if he had to water the fields with their blood to do so, he would ensure that they were a family one day.
"Name him Orion," said Scorpius, "After the Hunter," she nodded tearfully, unable to speak. It was a Black family tradition to name their children after the stars, and Scorpius was the last direct pureblood male descendant of that house. She would name him as he had asked, because even though she didn't believe him when he said he would make it safe for her to return, she would make sure her child knew about his father who loved him . . . and his grandfather who had torn them apart.
The ring glowed blue, and she pressed her lips to his in a final kiss before there was a distinct pull in her navel and she was gone, leaving Scorpius to clutch at empty air.