The next day I knew I should sit Draco down and have that talk about sex before we got sidetracked doing anything else, but I chickened out. In my defense the elves were working on this special elven delicacy that I didn't want to miss. There was a chance that the coming talk would end badly and Draco would throw me out, so I told myself that I'd do it after dinner. Draco was going on about the Malfoy Dung Heap and how Malfoys had been dumping their garbage in that one sacred spot for nine hundred years. That was something I didn't mind spoiling or missing entirely if I was told to go.

After dinner Draco led me off into the forest saying, "It's just through this clump of trees." Only he stopped in a small, beautiful clearing, without a scrap of debris in sight.

"Ah, Draco? Where's the rubbish?" I asked.

"I didn't bring you here to show you rubbish; that's just what I told you, because I didn't want the Aurors to know. I brought you here to show you this willow tree."

"Er, it's lovely," I replied, wondering what was so special about this tree. It wasn't huge or particularly old looking, but it had an artistic wave to its branches that was very aesthetically pleasing. It also had a bit of the gnarl of the Whomping Willow to it, but not much, because it was still a young tree.

"Harry, there is a Malfoy family secret in this clearing that I wanted to share with you, but you have to promise to never tell another being; not even a elf, doxy, or a crup."

"Can you tell me what it is before I promise that?" The Malfoys were known to be involved in dark magic and if Draco was about to show me his father's horcrux, you can bet I would run straight to the Ministry with that information, before setting off to destroy it.

"No, you have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

"Er…" I waffled back and forth regarding what I should do. There was a real possibility that he was about to show me something that shouldn't be here; why else would he be keeping it a secret from his guards and swearing me to secrecy? But on the other hand, I had just given him my sperm to use in the conception of our first child; he was probably pregnant by me at this very moment. If I was trusting him to carry my child, shouldn't I be able to trust him with anything? Finally I came to a decision and asked, "Can you at least tell me if this is dark magic? If it's not, then yes, I'll trust you. But if it is, I don't trust myself to keep quiet."

"It's not dark magic."

"It's not?"

"It's not," he confirmed, looking me in the eyes and conveying his truthfulness.

"Then why are we hiding it from the world?"

"He's sacred and we haven't had the process patented yet."

"Oh, is that it?"

"Yes. Do you promise?"

"I do. What is it?"

"He."

"Huh?"

"Grandfather Willow is a he."

"He doesn't look old enough to be a grandfather…"

"That's because Grandfather Abraxas chose a young sapling that he himself planted. This way he'll live longer."

"I'm confused," I admitted.

"My grandfather Abraxas Malfoy's dying act was to fuse the essence of his being with this tree. I brought you out here to meet my grandfather and to tell him about our courtship," he explained, with a sweeping gesture to indicate the tree."

"Okay," I ventured tentatively, wondering if this was a joke.

"Harry, this is my grandfather Abraxas Malfoy. Grandfather, this is my intended, Harry Potter."

Draco's voice was grand and serious, but I still thought he might be joking. At least I did until I saw the face of an old man appear in the tree. Right about when the tree said, "Good day Harry Potter," was when I screamed and jumped back two feet.

As soon as the initial shock was out of me, I felt like a cad. If it had been a real danger, I'd just jumped back and left my boyfriend who was pregnant with my child there to face it on his own. I hadn't even reached for him to take him with me in my flight from the tree. That was unforgivable in my book and wasn't made any better by the fact that it was just a sentient tree that had frightened me. That tree was his grandfather. He introduced me to his grandfather and I screamed like I was a muggle seeing a ghost for the first time. Well he was a ghost, in a way, because he was dead, but still; screaming is not the proper pureblood way to respond when meeting deceased relatives.

"Um, sorry," I stammered, stepping forward again and wrapping my left arm around Draco's shoulder, while extending the right hand out to shake with a branch in hopes of rectifying my mistake. "Good day to you too, sir."

"I fine young man you've got here, Dragon," the face in the tree said and shook my hand with its branch.

"Good day Grandfather. How have you been? I'm sorry we haven't been able to come visit you, but I couldn't let anyone know about you and I couldn't get away," Draco said.

"Don't worry so much about me. I have the life of a tree to entertain me; the chirping of the birds, the melodrama of the squirrels, and the pitter patter of little seedlings to tend to. I have a row of seedlings coming in all around the parameter of this clearing. I'll have trees ready for the whole family to come and join me when your human lives are through. Imagine it Draco: an entire forest full of Lord Malfoys going back five hundred years."

"Yes Grandfather, if only you can remember how it was you cast the spell," Draco replied indulgently.

"I'm working on it! See, I've been scratching my notes into the bark of that tree there." A willow branch reached out and tapped its neighboring tree, where there were indeed scratched symbols and words.

"Yes Grandfather," Draco replied.

"What spell?" I asked.

"Why the spell that allowed my essence to fuse with this tree, of course!" the tree replied.

"He doesn't know what spell he used? Can't you just look it up for him?" I asked Draco.

"No, he can't remember and he didn't write it down before he died. It was one of his own invention, so we can't look it up either. We've tried a pensieve, but none of us were there when he did it; he just sort of got up from his death bed and ran out here into the forest. We sent the elves looking for his body. When they found it, we came out here and there he was, in the tree," Draco explained.

"It was a bit of sudden genius in the madness of the fever. Dragon pox, you know. I had been working on the theory for decades and I had it all worked out in my head, only it never worked in practice. Then on my deathbed, something clicked and I just had it," the tree explained.

"Only problem is that his manner of death corrupted the memory. Something about turning yourself into a tree just isn't compatible with modern pensieve technology. So we can't get the memory from him to examine," Draco added.

"Oh…that's a real shame. This tree thing seems great. Is it somewhat like being a ghost?" I wondered, trying to make polite conversation.

"Oh no, nothing at all like a ghost. A ghost can never go on, nor can they grow or change; that's what makes my discovery so much better. You see, I can grow, live, and just be part of this tree. We are one. As long as it lives, I live. But the moment it dies, I die. When we die, I'll move on and cease to be attached to this realm. A ghost, on the other hand, is static and has no way of ever moving on. A ghost gains immortality at the price of everything that makes this world worth having. I wanted to live to see my grandson grow up. I wanted to meet my great grandson. I wanted to help my son and impart my knowledge to my family. But when everyone I know and the children of everyone I know…when they are all dead, I'd like to go with them and move on. Someday I will," Abraxas said.

"Oh, that's really wonderful then," I said.

"And I can die anytime I want. Just ask the family to cut me down and off I go on the adventure into non-existence," Abraxas added.

"Speaking of family, has Grandmother Malfoy been by to visit you?" Draco asked.

"No, my boy, she hasn't. Is she alright?" Abraxas asked.

"I haven't heard from her since the end of the war," Draco replied.

"The war's over? We finally won? The Dark Lord killed that halfblood brat?" the tree asked.

"No…" Draco replied.

"Halfblood brat right here, at your service." My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"We lost Grandfather. The Dark Lord is dead, Father is in Azkaban, and Mother and I are under house arrest. That's why none of us have been able to see you. It's only now that I've become involved with Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, that I've been able to sneak away for a chat," Draco explained.

"We lost?" the tree asked uncomprehendingly.

"Yes Grandfather, we lost," Draco replied.

"And your father is in prison? For how long?"

"Five years. Harry got him leniency. He says he's going to help Mother and me win our cases. In fact, he's the one who arranged for us to be put on house arrest while we await our trials; otherwise we'd be in the crowded Ministry holding cells with the rest of the Death Eaters," Draco answered.

"And what of my Darwina? What has become of her?" Abraxas asked.

"She fled Grandfather. She went south, to France, to escape the war. But the war followed her south and she fled again. I have word that she escaped into a remote Romanian village in the mountains, where she's safe from both sides of the war. A lot of the elderly went there, so she's not alone. We haven't heard from her since the end of the war, but we think she's just lying low to keep under the Ministry's radar. Once the trials are over and Mother and I are free, I'm sure she'll come back," Draco answered.

"At least she's safe," Abraxas replied.

"She is; I know she is," Draco added.

"The crystal?" Abraxas asked.

Draco shook his head and neither of them bothered explaining what they were talking about now.

"Draco, there's one thing I don't understand," the tree said, changing the subject.

"What's that Grandfather?"

"How did you end up with Harry Potter? Even if we lost the war…I just can't imagine how you could have made such a change. Last time you were here telling me about him you were saying how much you hated him for stealing your wand from you. You've always hated him."

"The veela chose him Grandfather; he saved my life twice during the final battle. I tried to fight it, but…"

"It's okay Draco; it's not your fault."

"It's not?"

"It's not. If anything it's my fault for marrying someone with distant veela blood. Of course I never imagined that she had any veela left in her."

I was beginning to like this tree less and less. I didn't know if I could take much more of this racist tree and I figured it would be best to move things along. "Draco, it's getting late and I still wanted to talk to you about last night," I said.

"Alright," Draco agreed, looking at me and then back at the willow. "Grandfather, I don't know when Mother or I will be able to come again. Just know that we are safe and that we love you."

"I love you too Dragon; take care," the tree said. He closed his eyes and the face in the bark melted into nothingness.

"Come on, we'll go to the Malfoy Rubbish Pile to talk, that way you can honestly say I showed you it. It doesn't smell, I promise," Draco said, leading me through the forest. "Now the Malfoy Mulch Pile is a different matter."

We walked for some distance and I lost track of direction with all of the twists and turns. I was worried that Draco might be lost too, but then a tall mound broke through the trees. As we grew nearer, I discerned various bits of magical trash. There were wads of used parchment, broken quills, cracked bowls, torn socks, and a thousand years' worth of garbage.

Draco motioned towards a fallen tree and sat down. I sat down next to him, before he spoke. "What did you want to talk about, Harry?"

And this was it; this was the moment I was supposed to bring up sex. It was time to assure my boyfriend of my acceptant of veela sex and that his being a veela doesn't bother me. But sitting here, staring at the rubbish, I just couldn't find the words or the courage to speak them. Instead I asked a safer question. "Did you do it? You know, fertilize, the um, egg?"

"Yes."

"Do you think it took? I mean, maybe we should do it again. We need to make sure this egg gets fertilized."

"I'm fairly certain it took."

"How can you tell?"

"Veela instincts."

"Huh?"

"My instincts were urging me to mate, but this morning I had the urge to build a nest. By the way, I know the second gift is usually shoes or clothes, but what I really need is a veela grade incubator. From what I've read they make nesting much easier."

"How soon will it come?" I was starting to freak out now that he was talking about nesting. I hadn't gotten past the pregnancy part, much less thought about preparations for after the delivery.

"Not for another three months."

"Whew... then we have time."

"Yes, we do have time, but I already feel anxious for it. I was going through everything in my room today and I couldn't find any decent nesting materials. I started plotting my nest out of dried up flower stems. I'm not allowed to get new things, so I really need you to help me out and bring them in."

"What sort of nesting materials?"

"Down feathers work well for a soft lining and twigs for the base."

"Well we can get feathers off of your peacocks and we're in a forest; there are twigs all around," I said, bending down to pick up the twig by my feet.

"I know; Grandfather gave me this one," he said, rolling back his sleeve to show a willow twig shoved up his sleeve. When he managed to do that, I do not know, but at least he wasn't trying to palm a weapon.

"Look, I don't want you to have to hide nesting materials. If there's something you want for your nest, just tell me and I'll get it for you. I don't want anyone to be able to say anything bad about your cooperation with the house arrest when your trial comes."

He nodded and looked down at his hands. It took me a moment to realize that he was probably nervous about the veela thing. I decided then that I really had to tell him that it was all fine by me as far as veela sex goes. I plucked up my courage, took his hands in my hands, and said, "Look, I'm really happy about this. I bet our egg is going to be wonderful. I'm sure it'll be brilliant and I can't wait. We're making a baby together and that's beautiful. I know that laying eggs isn't exactly typical human, but lots of things that aren't typical are still really great. Besides, live birth is so muggle."

The muggle crack I threw in as a joke, to break the tension. I'd probably hex anyone I heard saying such a horribly racist statement, but I thought it was the type of thing purebloods would find funny. Plus, I didn't actually think poorly of muggles for not laying eggs; I was just trying to make an insecure pregnant veela feel better about himself.

"Really? You're going to help me with this egg and this baby? You're not just going to save my life and leave me hanging out to dry?" he asked.

"No, never. I promise you and our baby that I'll be there for both of you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now come on; let's gather some twigs while it's still light out."

"Yes, alright, but not from near this rubbish heap."

"There's nothing sacred or special about your trash, is there?" I asked as we walked away.

"Oh yes there is; it's utterly contaminated with magic. Sometimes, during the dead of night, it glows with past spells. But that mostly only happens near the summer and winter solstices."

"Right. I'll be sure to mention that fun fact to Harper and Ron, so they think we've actual been out looking at garbage this whole time."

"Thank you. I really appreciate you keeping my grandfather a secret."

I nodded and then got him talking about the perfect stick for this nest he was imagining.

Author's Note: So what do you think of Grandfather Willow? Draco is nesting already and next chapter I will skip ahead in time a bit.

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