Major Ego Death (Eater)

by thewinterwells

Draco finds himself reluctantly harbouring Granger as his hostage. Only her name isn't Hermione, and she's really effing tiny. ... Dramione Post Hogwarts Battle/War Continues AU - Death Eater Draco - Dark but with Snark Fic - Updates every Friday

1. Dissolution

A/N: This fic is split into three separate acts named after the three stages of Ego Death.

Act I - Dissolution

Act II - Ego Loss

Act III - Return to Reality

*Disclaimer* Even though this is very much a Dramione fic, fair warning - Hermione isn't going to really make an appearance until Act II.

Luckily, this first chapter is the entirety of Act I, so the next posting will jump right into the second Act, which will span multiple chapters.

Enjoy this Dark Snark Dramione fic

...

Act I: Dissolution

Malfoy Manor 5 June 2008 – 28 Years Old

Draco stands in front of the bay window in the master suite of the manor. He can see the three peacocks that are - for whatever reason - still alive, pecking at the grass.

"Draco, you promised."

Draco turns around to see his wife lying in bed. The bed she's been in since their wedding just under a year ago. Rubbing a hand over his brow, Draco takes a few steps closer to the witch, yet still a reasonable distance away, not wanting to see the details of how far gone she is due to a blood malediction that had been passed down through the Greengrass family curse. Yet, even from where he stands, distant like their relationship, he can see her sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks. Not to mention the torment written on her face – full of pain and sorrow.

"Healer Feig said that if you were to get some fresh air, the pain might –"

"I don't give a fuck what that old codger says, Draco. It doesn't matter anymore. Besides, you promised. You said –"

"I know what I said, Stori," he snaps.

"Please, Draco. Just let me see my son."

Taking a breath, Draco pulls out his wand, too exhausted to argue with the dying witch. "Fine," he says stiffly, pointing it directly at her heart. "Tell Scorpius his father loves him." And with that, Draco flicks his wrist. "Avada Kedavra."

…

2 Weeks Later

Standing over the grave of his young wife and son, Draco sets down a rose and then traces Scorpius' name written in stone. "You would have been three months old today, Scorp." He then moves his finger over to Astoria's. "I never really knew you –" he says softly. "I hope you're happy now, Stori."

Draco stands and clutches his head before pulling out a small vial of pain potion that he's perfected since the headaches began. An unfortunate side effect of heavily Occluding during his teenage years, when his brain was still developing, leaving him with permanent damage. The pain is borderline unbearable without the substance, yet the inability to Occlude is even more taxing.

Of course, Draco technically still can Occlude, but he'd end up frying his brain and either die or become a mindless vegetable.

As Draco walks back to the manor from the family gardens, he thinks it is a tempting thing to do. But before he can sink further into his suicidal ideations, he feels the familiar burn in his left arm. And so, he apparates, bypassing the anti-apparition wards, now being the Head of the Malfoy Estate.

Draco appears in the corridor just outside the meeting room and schools his features. He may not be able to Occlude, but given his apathy and general not giving a fuck about anything anymore, he may as well be Occluding. Taking a seat towards the head of the table, the rest of the Death Eaters begin to arrive, and eventually, everyone is seated.

The Dark Lord enters the room – late like always - causing everyone to rise before he takes a seat at the front of the room, and everyone follows suit.

"What news have we on our cause in the States?" questions Lord Voldemort.

A Death Eater named fucking Steve stands up and begins to speak.

"Thanks to your support, the MACUSA has officially appointed Mr Patrick Claybern of the known Claybern pure-blood line as President. He is a strong supporter of The Cause, and I'm proud to be here in Britain, standing in your presence, as a representative of —"

"Enough," hisses the Dark Lord. Steve clamps his mouth shut and takes a seat. "McNair – what of the giants in the North?"

McNair stands. "We've had great success, my Lord. Great success." The pregnant pause that follows is so long that Draco thinks it could give birth to a full-grown wizard.

"And?" says Draco, gesturing for him to continue.

"And they've agreed to join The Cause for the right price. They'll continue to work with the Order, transporting their supplies whilst gathering information for us."

"Very good," says the Dark Lord.

"We've already received a bit of intelligence that could turn the tide of the war," says McNair as he pulls out a small rolled-up piece of parchment. One of the few House Elves that are still alive takes the parchment and hands it to the Dark Lord – who then, of course, hands it to Draco because being "Second in Command" now really means he's the Dark Lord's bitch.

Draco unrolls the parchment and sees it's a list of supplies. The items are mainly food and other necessities, but then his eyes narrow in on one small phrase.

"Otter's teacup," he mutters. "Where are these goods now?" asks Draco.

"This particular shipment is supposed to go to an undisclosed location outside of Killarney. The giants won't cross the Irish Sea, but they've got half-breeds who will connect with unsuspecting Muggles and then, we suspect, will be intercepted by the Irish Order sect and taken to the safe house. The Order has been moving people around similarly to bypass leaving a magical trace for years."

Draco taps his finger on the parchment taking in the information. Of course, he is already aware of the Order's convoluted ways of travel, but it has kept them off the radar for years, so he can't argue with their method.

"We strongly believe that this is a gross misstep on the Order's part and that Order Member Granger is at the location – apparently needing her teacup," adds McNair, glancing at the Dark Lord, who offers his hand to Draco, indicating the intelligence is worth his beady red eyes to take a glance.

"And have you also considered that this was done on purpose? Otter is the Order's lead strategist – you think she's hiding out in some hovel in Ireland?" asks Draco.

"I considered it a possibility – but given the Terrier was taken out three years ago because of a scrap of intelligence due to the Order's negligence, I thought it would be worth investigating. The Stag has been in hiding since the Battle – Otter could be laying low since we've raided three of their safe houses near London within the past month."

The Dark Lord stands without warning, causing all the Death Eaters to follow suit. "Send a reconnaissance team," he states, then looks to Draco. "If the Mudblood is there, I want you to Avada on sight."

"Yes, my Lord."

…

The journey to Ireland is quick as Draco spends the better part of the day scanning the area from his broom before regrouping with the reconnaissance team - consisting of only McNair and Dolohov.

"There," says Draco pointing to an open field.

"There, where?" questions Dolohov.

"If I were to hide, I would do it in plain sight. And you see that knoll?"

"Yes," responded the two other wizards in unison.

"The grass is brown while everything around it is green. So I'd hazard a guess there's something underground. I've raided enough of the Order's fucking poor excuse for hideouts. Although – this is by far the most clever – useless - but by far their best attempt."

Draco pulls out his wand. "If I'm not back in an hour, you are to approach and Avada anyone you see – including me."

"Why?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "Because if I'm still fucking around that goddam hill an hour from now, someone did something to me, and you can't trust me, you twat. Don't you remember what happened to Nott?"

"Oh, right. Yeah – got it," says Dolohov while McNair remains silent.

Draco apparates closer to his target and then walks the rest of the way. When he gets within a few yards, he stops, thinking this could be a set-up. And so he quickly casts a heartbeat spell to see if there's any sign of life. It's a gamble because it will pick up his own life source and interfere, but it's better than going in blind.

Sure enough, he can see his chest glow and another faint glow in the dead grass. "There you are," he mutters as he bends down and points his wand at the dirt detecting the wards. Surprisingly, the wards are old - not that they'd been there long - only a few years. But the type is a few centuries shy of ancient magic. "Clever," he muses. Most Death Eaters wouldn't know how to break these types of wards – and lucky for Draco, he isn't like most Death Eaters.

Within ten minutes, Draco huffs a laugh, quickly dismantling ward after ward.

"Finite Incantatem."

The dead grass gives way, revealing a hatch, and Draco contemplates casting a Disillusionment Charm, given he's at a slight disadvantage. Whoever is down there surely knows someone is breaking in. But, being the cocky bastard he is, he decides fuck it and figures seeing the shocked look on Granger's buck-toothed face will be worth it if she's even down there. Of course, Granger took care of the beaver teeth he gave her, but it's been years since he's seen her, and it's really the only mental image he has of the witch.

Draco opens the hatch and is met with the smell of dirt as he descends down a small wooden staircase. He casts a Lumos, and his eyes begin to adjust, seeing a quaint little home. "Graaaanger, I've come to apologise to you," he calls out in a sing-songy voice. "I know you're here," he adds coldly. "Just come out and –"

"Stupify!"

Draco barely flinches as he deftly waves his wand, wordlessly blocking the spell. "Your DADA lessons won't help you here," he mocks, taking stock of the space and smirking when he sees a Disillusionment Charm's faint glimmer. "Over ten years, and you lot still never learn," he sighs.

"Avada Kedavera!"

Before Draco can move, a small green light hits him directly in the chest. The shock of being hit with the – albeit unsuccessful – Killing Curse has him stumbling back. He quickly disillusions himself – not out of fear but simply to even the playing field – obviously.

"You have to mean it," he laughs.

"Avada Kedavera!"

This time Draco throws a silent Protego as a burst of green light bounces off the shield, and he knows that one would have done him in. He's almost sorry he has to kill whichever Order member is bold enough to use an Unforgivable. And the Killing Curse, no less.

Draco quickly moves around the space and catches the glimmer again. He sends a Confringo in the opposite direction as a misdirect and then quickly casts another spell at the glimmer.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Draco's wand unleashes the curse with practised ease, causing a loud thud as the body drops to the floor. The voice he'd heard was merely a hiss, so it was difficult to discern anything other than female. Draco slowly makes his way over to the body as the Disillusionment Charm disappears.

"Damn," he huffs, kicking the witch. "Not even one of the good ones."

Draco steps over the body of Molly fucking Weasley and then casts another heartbeat spell. "Someone else is here," he says, seeing the familiar glow over his heart and then under Molly's body. "And unless your Squib husband managed to fuck another sprog into your ancient womb, I doubt there's a babe in your belly," he says, bending down. "Although you look like there certainly could be one," he grunts as he rolls her body over and eyes another hatch.

Draco lifts the hatch and sees yet another small set of stairs. "Who are you hiding?"

Surely the Order's strategist isn't cowering in the dirt.

"Maybe you are," he whispers, seeing the familiar bushy hair peeking out of a blanket. "Sleeping on the job?" he says as he draws his wand, taking a few steps closer. "It's been a while, Granger." He takes another step and furrows his brow. "Although, I don't remember you being so –" he pulls back the blanket. "Small," he breathes out in shock, seeing that it is not Granger.

It's a little girl.

"Fuck," he says, looking around. "Fuck," he rasps again. He then notices the empty bottle of sleeping drought and realises the Weasley matriarch probably gave it to the girl to keep her quiet. He then hears the girl give a soft sigh as she rolls over. "Otter," he says, eyeing the stuffed animal in her hands. "Shite," he curses, looking at his watch. Luckily he still has a decent amount of time to figure something out.

Heart pounding, Draco points his wand at the sleeping child, knowing she's better off dead than at the mercy of the other Death Eaters. "Fucking – fuck," he says, wand hand shaking. As many people as he's killed, he's never killed a fucking child.

The little girl sighs again and scrunches her nose. "You look like Granger," he scoffs and then freezes. "Helga Hufflepuff's dried up cunt – you're her daughter," he says in realisation.

There's a brief moment where Draco feels an intense rage that Granger would leave her fucking daughter so defenceless. He'd found her so easily, with only fucking Molly Weasley to defend her. The delusion of safety the Order has makes Draco wonder how they've managed to keep going for as long as they have.

He lifts his wand again and takes a deep breath, and of course, the girl makes another tiny noise and lifts her fucking little hands over her fucking little face with her fucking rosy freckled cheeks.

"Fucking shite." He points at the girl. "You're a fucking little –" he reaches his hands out and pretends to strangle the child in frustration before taking a step back, trying to recalibrate. Unfortunately, his instincts to Occlude have his head pounding, and Draco quickly pulls out a vial of potion before returning to the matter at hand.

Obviously, he could leave her here, letting McNair and Dolohov handle the situation. But Draco finds that he's become a fucking sod since his son's death, and the thought of leaving the girl alone with any other Death Eaters weighs on his conscience.

Apparently, he still has one.

He could also simply take the child and hide her in the manor - use her as a bargaining chip.

And with that, Draco moves closer to bend down and pick her up.

"Fucking shite, you're heavier than you look – Salazar."

The girl makes another soft sound as he carries her bridal style up the stairs to the central part of the safe house. He sees Molly's body and looks at the girl, noticing how her hair is a few shades lighter than he remembers Granger's being – and unlike her swotty mother, her skin is paler with freckles scattered across the bridge of her little button nose and rosy cheeks.

Looking again at Molly Weasley's body, he scoffs, making the connection.

"Sorry about your grandmum," he starts as he climbs the second set of stairs leading above ground. "Actually, I'm not, but it seemed like I should at least say it." Emerging from the hatch, the girl shivers when a slight breeze passes through, and she immediately clutches onto his robes with one hand while the other continues to hold tightly onto the stuffed otter.

Draco doesn't dwell on how she clings to him and simply apparates back to his room at the manor, figuring that McNair and Dolohov will eventually take the hint he's not coming back and proceed with their directives to search the place.

Once in his room after a nauseating journey from Ireland, Draco instantly regrets not thinking through his actions of performing multiple apparitions in quick succession instead of going directly to the manor. He didn't want to risk splinching the girl knowing that the distance might have been too much for a child. Regardless, either way of travel doesn't bode well for young children.

"I'll never understand a Granger's affinity for SPEW," he says in disgust, seeing the vomit all over his Death Eater robes and the child. "Salazar –" he groans, nearly vomiting as he lays her gently on the floor, seeing it all in her hair. "Fuck," he rasps, feeling the burn in his left arm.

Draco quickly Scourgifies the mess, but unfortunately, it only works on their clothing, and the sick is still in the child's hair – not to mention the lingering smell.

With his arm still burning, Draco has no choice but to leave her. "Stay here," he commands to the still-sleeping child and then apparates to the meeting.

McNair and Dolohov enter the room, and Draco can tell by their body language they'd apparated directly from Ireland.

"Report," states Lord Voldemort as he looks directly at Draco.

"The intelligence was good regarding the location of an Order safe house. However, the Otter was not on the premises. Order member Molly Weasley was inside when I arrived, and I took care of the witch using the Killing Curse with success. I found nothing of significance – simply a safe house for an overfed and ageing witch."

The Dark Lord tilts his head towards McNair and Dolohov. "Second team – can you confirm?"

Draco has the urge to slap the snake man right in his "not nose" for not taking his word at face value. Although he is lying out of his arse – but still – rude.

"Second team went in after Death Eater Malfoy disapparated from the premises. Dolohov and I can confirm that the body of Molly Weasley was dead on arrival. We've already removed the corpse for negotiations with the Order. Per the trend of this war, they seem to give significance to burying their deceased."

"Like I said, I –"

"However –" continues McNair. "We did discover a hidden room within the safe house, and it appears that they had been hiding someone of importance. The evidence suggests it was a child, but we've yet to locate it."

Fucking shite.

Everyone turns to look at Draco, including the Dark Lord.

"Am I hearing correctly that you failed to discover such a thing?" Voldemort says as he fucking hisses.

"My directive was to be first on the scene and Avada the Otter if she was there. Said Order member was not there. Thus my purpose was a moot point. Taking out the Erumpent would suggest that I went above and beyond my directive –" he pauses. "My Lord," he practically mocks.

The silence in the room is deafening, but Draco knows the Dark Lord won't do anything other than possibly use the Cruciatus Curse until he shits himself. It would be a small price to pay for snarking at the snake man.

"Molly Weasley is a first-generation Order member, Draco," says the Dark Lord in his slow creepy voice. "Thank you for your service." Draco relaxes infinitesimally, knowing he will not be shitting himself today – although he is currently shitting bricks, thinking about the little spew monster lying on his bedroom floor.

The Dark Lord stands, and everyone follows suit, indicating the meeting is over. "Find the child," hisses Lord Voldemort. And with that, he's gone.

Draco sits back down and pretends to read through some parchments as everyone shuffles out of the meeting. He then immediately apparates to his bedroom, instantly cursing, seeing that the girl is not where he left her.

"Merlin's fucking beard," he huffs as he begins to search the different rooms of his suite. And, of course, he finds the girl in the small library sitting in his chair, reading a book, wholly unbothered by waking up in a strange place. The girl lifts her head, scans his masked face, and then goes back to looking at the book, not even the slightest bit scared by his appearance.

"How old are you?" he asks.

Nothing.

Draco rolls his eyes and waves his wand, performing a diagnostic spell.

"Salazar. You're four years old, and you can already read?" he mutters to himself. The girl looks at him and shakes her head 'no', then holds up the book, pointing to a picture of a plant.

"Right, pictures," he sighs, feeling like he's in some weird fever dream, smelling like vomit and chatting with Hermione Granger and Ron fucking Weasley's daughter. He then realises that the girl's father died three years ago when she was only a baby. Draco moves closer to the girl, grimacing at the chunks of her last meal drying in her hair.

The girl is thin but not starved, and she's relatively clean besides the vomit. Of course, her clothes are dirty, but given she was fucking underground surrounded by dirt, he wouldn't expect anything different.

Needless to say, she seems like she was well taken care of.

"What's your name?" he asks.

Again – nothing.

She's probably been warned about talking to strangers. Especially ones with hooded cloaks and scary masks.

Whether the child is mute or simply wise, Draco needs to get rid of her before she's discovered. He could always take her back to where he found her and hope the Order will come upon her, but given the safe house is now in the hands of "The Cause", she'll most likely be picked up by another Death Eater. And one who might hurt her in ways he doesn't want to think about.

Draco finally removes his mask and kneels down, now at eye level. She tilts her head as her fucking big brown eyes look him over. He flinches when she reaches her hand out and traces over his brow, then down his cheek. But then she grabs his fucking nose and pulls on it.

"Mine," she says with a giggle waving her little fist around.

"Uh – what the fuck?"

"Mine," she says again.

Draco is still confused and then winces when she fucking grabs his nose again - which is fairly easy given how fucking pointy it is – and yanks on it with more strength than her tiny body should be able to and proceeds to jump out of the chair and "hide" behind the drapery.

"You fucking stole my nose, didn't you?" he accuses amusedly, now understanding what in Merlin's name she's doing. "I'm quite fond of that nose. I'll be miffed if you don't return it."

The girl giggles, and he can see her tiny feet peeking out as the drape shakes. "You know it's wrong to steal," he huffs. The girl goes silent and slowly comes out from behind the drapes, walks up to him where he's still kneeling, pretends to grab her own nose, and smooshes her hand on his face.

"I guess yours will have to do." The girl smiles while Draco scrunches his – her – nose, seeing the vomit still in her hair. "Probably should give you a bath," he mutters. "Do you know how to bathe yourself?" he asks, hoping to Godric she does.

And, of course, she just stares at him.

"Right, uh –" he stands and then sort of pushes on her shoulder to get her to walk towards the bathroom. "Um – go that way," he says, trying to get her to move like she's cattle because he sure as fuck isn't going to hold her hand nor pick her up.

They finally make it to the bathroom, and Draco pulls off his gloves to start the tap of the large claw foot tub. "I've found that the Muggle way for personal hygiene is far better than just using magic," he says, then gives the child a pointed look. "And don't ever tell anyone I said that."

The girl nods in understanding with wide eyes, and he realises she probably doesn't understand sarcasm and takes his harsh tone at face value. He then points to the tub. "Now, as I asked before, do you know how to wash yourself?"

The girl looks in the tub and back at him.

"Please tell me you're at least toilet trained?" he pleads.

Nothing.

"Salazar's shrivelled ballsack. Do you wear nappies or shit on the toilet?" he barks, and the girl starts fucking giggling. Merlin, this child is deranged. Maybe she's some secret weapon? Some form of psychological torture? Draco certainly feels like he's gone barmy, questioning his reality.

The girl skips around him and points at the toilet, and then to his horror, pulls her fucking trousers down.

"Fuck!" He says, turning around. "Fucking shite, um – little girl? You shouldn't do that in front of strange men – which, in this scenario –" he grimaces when he hears her peeing. "I am a strange man. Merlin, I should have Avada'd you," he huffs, swiping a hand over his face. He looks down when he feels a tug on his robes, and the girl points to the tap.

"What?"

She walks over to the vanity and stands on her tip-toes, still unable to reach.

"So, you do know proper hygiene?" The girl is still standing with her outstretched hands. Waiting. He then realises that she wants him to lift her up.

Heaving a sigh, Draco approaches the girl from behind and wraps his hands around her tiny waist and lifts her over the basin, where she expertly washes her hands before he promptly sets her down.

"Right, good. Now do that –" he waves his hand over her body. "All over –" he points to the tub. "In there. Understand?"

She nods, and he lets out a breath of relief, but then she grabs his hand and pulls him over to the tub with her.

"What?"

And, of fucking course, she pulls her trousers down again, and Draco takes it as his cue to leave. But he stops short in the doorway and groans before backing back into the bathroom to hover nearby, not wanting the girl to pull a Regulus.

He can hear her splashing in the water for a few minutes and then silence, causing him to whirl around, but he sees she's simply rubbing a flannel over her face. After his near heart attack, Draco grabs some hair potion. Even without the sick, her hair is a mess, and given her mum seems to not know how to care for her own hair, he figures her daughter probably doesn't either.

Draco removes his outer Death Eater robes and pulls up his sleeves before kneeling beside the tub. "This is so fucking weird," he mutters as he cups some water and puts it in her hair. She doesn't even react to him helping her, and he wonders if she has some kind of attachment disorder from being isolated for Merlin knows how long.

"I'm going to put this in your hair, okay?" She nods, and Draco begins to scrub her scalp. The girl instantly closes her eyes and smiles. "Feel good, yeah?" he laughs, remembering when his mother used to wash his hair and how he loved when she scratched his scalp. His heart clenches for a brief second at her memory, but then he flinches when he feels her tiny fingers trace over the Dark Mark.

"Pretty."

Draco remains silent, wondering why the girl is so - morbid.

"I guess if you don't know what it means, it's kind of – interesting to look at," he mutters as he cups his hands again to rinse the potion. He then sees that he will need to use more potion, given that the girl's hair is a nest and some unpleasantness is still hidden inside the curly locks.

The uncomfortable feeling of grief begins to seep through as he thinks about what it would have been like to bathe Scorpius. His son died only three days after being born, and he'd never gotten the chance to really do well - anything.

He never even held him.

Astoria had gone into labour almost two months early due to her frail condition while Draco had been on a raid. And because he's a bastard, he didn't return until a week later. He simply didn't feel like going back to the manor. After the raid, he'd gone to the Lake District and just – sat there. Sat there like a fucking idiot, drinking Firewhiskey until he passed out.

"Where were you?" he hears Astoria rasp in anger.

"None of your fucking business," he slurs back, slumping into the space beside her on the bed.

"I needed you," she cries.

Draco scoffs. "Needed me? Stori, all you do is tell me to go away. I've been sleeping in my fucking childhood bed. You won't even let me fuck—"

"I went into labour."

Draco sits up in confusion as Astoria turns on a light. And sure enough – her abdomen is shockingly smaller, with only a tiny bump left over from the pregnancy.

"Fuck, when? What is it? Where is it?"

"A boy – Scorpius. Like you'd wanted."

"Well, where is he?" Draco barks but then sees the look on her face. "Where is he?" he asks again in a choked voice.

"With your mother now."

As Draco finally gets the girl's hair clean, he sits back on his heels, feeling a rage boiling inside his gut at the thought that his son is dead in the ground, next to his wife that he killed, while Granger is out there, doing Merlin knows what – neglecting her own child. Leaving her to rot with a Squib of a nan in some dirty hole in the ground.

And here he is, a fucking Death Eater, bathing her child. He'd broken in so easily. Obviously, he's been trained to do so, having been breaking into Order properties for years. He could plot out some of the designs by heart, remembering vivid details of how most of the safe houses were built.

He might have to Avada the child just to watch Granger suffer.

Draco grabs a flannel and hands it to the girl, and thankfully she begins to wash as he turns around, knowing that as much as he wants to hurt Granger and the Order – he's not going to be murdering an innocent child anytime soon.

"Where's your mum?" he asks. It feels slightly strange to interrogate an unsuspecting child on Granger's whereabouts. Still, if he can locate her and obviously kill her, that could bring The Cause closer to ending this Godric-forsaken war.

"Work."

Draco slowly turns around. "Work?" The girl nods as she rubs the wet cloth on her little stick arms. "Where does your mum work?" He watches the girl pause for a moment and then simply says –

"At work."

"Right, yes. Makes sense," he snorts. "What does your mum do for work? What's her job?"

Nothing.

"Are you not supposed to say?" he asks. Maybe there's a reason why the girl only feels comfortable giving vague information. She's obviously not afraid of him and can communicate her needs. But she won't tell him her name, age, or what her mum's been getting up to.

"Done," she states and abruptly stands up in the tub, reaching her hands out to him. Draco backs up and closes his eyes.

"Um—" He opens one eye and sees she's still standing there, completely starkers, reaching out to him. Not wanting to make it weirder than it needs to be, Draco grabs a towel and wraps it around her body while pulling her out of the tub.

He quickly dries her off, not really paying attention and then wraps the towel around her again. "Let's get you dressed." Draco looks over and eyes her dirty clothes. He'd already tried to charm them clean with minimal success. So, he sticks out his hand, palm open.

"Accio Quidditch shirt," he says, knowing that his old t-shirt from third year is the smallest article of clothing he has in the master suite.

The shirt flies into his hand within seconds, causing the girl to laugh in pure delight. "Pretty cool, right?" She nods emphatically as she sticks out her hand.

"Ako shirt," she says proudly while eyeing the shirt in his hand. She then furrows her brow after a few seconds of nothing happening. "AKO SHIRT," she says with a huff and wiggles her fucking little fingers, giving him eyes.

"I'm not sure—"

She points to the shirt in his hand and then to her open palm. "Ako shirt," she says with a curt nod.

"Oh, you –" he places the shirt in her hand, and her smile is so big her cheeks dimple causing her eyes to practically disappear. She then hands the shirt back to him.

"Ako shirt," she repeats. And again, with the fucking little finger wiggles.

This time Draco promptly places the shirt in her hand, and she laughs as she hands it back to him. "Ako shirt."

"Merlin," he huffs, once again placing the shirt in her hand, to which she hands it back.

"Ako shirt."

"Fuck, okay. One more time," he says exasperatedly, placing it in her hand.

And, of course, they repeat the process four more times.

Five.

Draco finally convinces her to stop and pulls the shirt over her head, fitting her like a dress. He then takes an unused cloth and transfigures it into – well – under things. Although, he doesn't know what a little girl's underclothes look like, and the garment is more of a small pair of shorts.

Thankfully she steps into them without a fuss, and he takes the lace from an old shoe and ties it around her waist.

"Pretty," he says with a smile.

The girl immediately frowns at him and fucking places her hands on her little hips. If ever there was proof that the Swot was this girl's mother –

"I'm not pretty," she says, practically scowling.

"Oh, I –"

"I'm handsome," she says, lifting her chin.

"My mistake, sir," says Draco chuckling. But her scowl deepens.

"I'm a girl."

Draco swipes a hand over his face. "You're very contrary, is what you are." For whatever reason, that makes the girl smile at him. "Okay – so, bed?" he asks – as if she's in charge. He then changes his tone. "I mean – you're going to bed. It's late."

She points to her teeth.

"Oh, yes. You've got teeth. Very nice – er – handsome."

But then she seems frustrated as she steps into his personal space where he's still on his knees, and then she fucking breathes in his face before backing up and laughing.

"Ah – okay. You need to clean your teeth. Yes, I – I'd agree with that," he says, nearly gagging. Draco takes out his wand, and as soon as the girl sees it, she fucking slaps it out of his hand quicker than a perfectly executed Expelliarmus as it flies across the bathroom.

The girl is giggling at him, and Draco can't help but laugh. "You're a tyrant. No wonder they locked you away," he huffs amusedly. "Accio wand," he says, then cringes, realising his mistake as the girl sticks out her hand.

Shite.

And so, after the girl "Ako'd" Draco's wand about a million times, he finally helps her clean her teeth, to which she then makes sure he cleans his own as well.

He finally manages to get her to sit in his chair to look at more pictures of plants. Then, Draco quickly changes out of the rest of his robes into his sleepwear.

"Merlin, I'm knackered," he yawns. How can being with a small child for only a few hours make him feel like he's been on a week-long raid? He walks into the library, seeing the girl completely absorbed in the book.

"Hey – uh –" he's about to say 'little girl' but thinks maybe she'll tell him her name now. "What's your name?"

She looks up but doesn't answer.

"Well, I sure as fuck am not going to call you Granger," he huffs. "Once I start doing that, I'll find I might not like you anymore. And – between you and me – you're not so bad," he says, and the girl giggles back at him.

Maybe Weasley and Granger's awfulness cancelled each other out?

"Come," he says, tilting his head for her to follow. Thankfully she actually listens to him and follows him to the bedroom. "You can take it in the bed if you like," he says, seeing she brought the book and the otter. The girl happily climbs onto the large bed and takes her place right in the middle. "I'll be right here," he says, pointing to the wingback chair near the bay window.

The girl frowns at him, patting the space next to her.

"That is a solid no," he says firmly.

She pats the space again as the scowl returns. "You are very quick to anger for such a young thing," he laughs, and the girl crosses her arms as her scowl turns into a full-on glare, completely changing the look on her face. "That is quite the gamut of facial expressions you've got, but again – no. I'm going to stay here. I promise you'll be fine."

Fifteen Minutes Later

"Ground rules," says Draco as he pulls the duvet over their bodies. "Number one – you stay over there. And number two—no wetting the bed."

She instantly begins to giggle, and Draco isn't sure if it's an, I'm giggling simply because you said 'wet the bed' or more of an I'm giggling because fuck you, Mr Draco. I'm going to piss all over your silk sheets.

"You are a surprisingly happy child, given the circumstances," he says softly as he watches her snuggle the small otter. "What's its name?"

She holds it out to him. "Otter."

"Mmm, yes. Very descriptive. I can see why you named it that," he chuckles. "When I was little, I had a stuffed snake, and I named it Snake," he says softly as Rose's eyes flutter closed, and her breathing goes shallow. Draco studies her tiny features, noticing that her cheeks still have the rosy hue that hasn't gone away since he first found her.

"I think I'll call you Rose."

The girl opens her eyes and smiles.

"You like that?" She nods in agreement. "Okay, Rose – now get the fuck to sleep so I can wallow in self-loathing about how fucking stupid I am."

She giggles again, and he wonders how much she understands, not knowing anything about child development. He vaguely remembers being four, but his issues with heavily occluding sometimes make it difficult to sort out his younger days.

Draco closes his eyes and then opens them when he feels hair getting into his mouth. "Rose – you're breaking rule number one," he says, feeling supremely uncomfortable as she snuggles into his chest. He nearly Occludes feeling the grief over Scorpius, but the first sharp pain in his head has him taking calming breaths to naturally try and work through his emotions. Something he's never really been good at.

Thankfully, the girl's breathing shallows again, and he can push her over to the other side of the bed without waking her. Finally, Draco closes his eyes and falls asleep - dreaming of holding his son.

…

Waking up to the sharp pain of getting kneed in the balls isn't the most pleasant way to start the day. But – this is precisely how Draco finds himself, unfortunately, starting his day.

"Mother fucker," he rasps, hand flying to his groin. Somehow, Rose managed to flip horizontally on the bed, giving her tiny demon feet perfect access to Draco's crotch. And, of course, she's still sleeping soundly, not even realising she very well could have ended the Malfoy line.

Not that he plans to have any more children. It wasn't something he even wanted in the first place after the war began to drag. There was no way he would bring a child into such a shite world. And yet, the Dark Lord's delusions of grandeur had Draco and many other young and virile Death Eaters forced into marriages to "produce the next generation of wizards and witches loyal to the cause."

And so, Draco found himself heavily occluding during the binding ceremony to Astoria. It was actually the last time he used Occlumency, and he can barely remember the event. Of course, Astoria was equally disturbed by the idea. And after they consummated the marriage, she said he had to sleep in his old bedroom. It was the only time he ever slept with her, and she managed to get pregnant. It had been the most awkward intercourse he'd ever had. Which is saying something since he fucking cried after he had sex with Pansy after the Yule Ball. Not because he lost his virginity - but because he was mortified after he came literally two seconds after barely even penetrating her.

He'd assumed that Astoria kicked him out of his own suite because she resented him, but when her sickness became evident, she confessed that she was fucking dying. Her family had hidden it to please the Dark Lord when she'd been matched with Draco. He resented her for it - for having him get her pregnant, knowing that the likelihood that the child would survive was slim. But as her belly grew, he came to care for her in a way. He even thought he could have loved her if life circumstances had been different. But if Draco has learned anything over the years is that life is a cruel bitch.

A cruel bitch that has him waking up, wincing in pain, thinking he might lose his left testicle because of the little monster in his bed. Yet once the pain of Draco's morning wake-up call wears off, he can't help smiling at the strange little girl still sleeping like a starfish.

Rose shifts and eventually opens her eyes, simply staring at him. He's about to ask if she's hungry, but the girl speaks first.

"Where's Nan?"

Oof.

"Uh – your nan is – resting. She's – on holiday," he says while internally grimacing.

Rose looks around the room and then back at him.

"She said that if I followed the rules, I'd get biscuits," she states and reaches out her hand, palm up.

"What rules?" he says, eyeing her hand, apparently thinking he has biscuits.

"To be –" She places her finger over her lips. "Shhhhhhh - like that."

"Ah – okay. So you can use full sentences then," he says, as reality hits that he's got a fucking hostage situation that both The Order and The Cause will murder him over. "And what makes you think it's okay to not be —" he mimics her gesture. "Shhhh, now?"

Rose's eyes widen as she clamps her mouth shut, and her eyes well with tears. "Oh, no —uh – don't cry, you don't have to be shhhhh." She must have assumed in her childlike mind that a new day meant whatever happened the day before was old news and her nan's rules no longer apply.

Rose wipes her face and nods. And as quick as the emotion comes, it vanishes as she sticks out her hand.

"Where are my biscuits?"

If the Dark Lord hadn't massacred nearly all the manor House Elves, Draco could easily provide the bribery biscuits. But seeing as the only few Elves still lurking around the manor are only loyal to Voldy, Draco will have to get food the old-fashioned way - apparate to the damn kitchen and then, of course, request for the house kitchen elf to make his food.

The struggle.

"I don't have any biscuits here, but I can get some. What kind?" How has this child managed to already have him fucking be her personal servant?

"Brown ones."

"Yes, I see. Those are the best," he huffs. "Brown like chocolate?"

"No," she says, and he's pretty sure she just rolled her eyes at him. "Light brown – nob nobs."

"Nob nobs?"

"Yes."

Merlin.

"So – a biscuit that's light brown called nob nobs?"

"Yes!" she says in frustration. "Mummy brings them to me when she comes."

"Do you not always see your mum?"

Rose frowns.

"How often do you see her?"

"Sometimes she comes and sleeps for days, and sometimes she comes to give me kisses, and sometimes she comes when she's sad, and she cries because she lost her dog, so I give her kisses."

"Lost her - dog?"

"Yes. I hear mummy talking to Nan all the time about her dog. She loves and misses him."

Draco remains silent for a moment, taking in the statement.

Her dog.

Granger must still be grieving over Weasley's death and using his Patronus to reference him, probably so she can speak freely around Rose to not upset her.

"Can you tell me more about her dog?" he asks, wanting to make sure. If it's not about Ron Weasley, then it might be another lead needing to be investigated.

Rose furrows her brow. "She just cries, and Nan cries, too. I guess they really like their dog," she says with a shrug. "I like dogs, but no one will let me get one."

"You want a pet dog?" he asks, and her face lights up.

"Yes! I have a book about dogs! I like to look at their pictures. I learned about all kinds. I heard Nan say I will 'member mummy's dog, but mummy didn't think so and is sad about it. But Nan was wrong, and mummy is right. I don't 'member any real dogs. But I 'member the patonis dog."

"Pato - oh – you mean Patronus?"

Rose glares at him. "That's what I said! Patonis."

Draco chuckles. "Yes. My mistake."

Rose suddenly stands up on the bed and sticks out her hand. "Ako wand!"

"Oh, Merlin," he huffs. But then he gets an idea. "Say it again."

Rose shrugs and then repeats herself. "Ako wand!"

Draco subtly waves his hand and casts a wandless Locomotor spell, guiding his wand right into her hand.

"I DID IT!" she shrieks. "I did it," she repeats in awe, looking at the wand. She then hands it to him.

"Do it," she fucking commands, like a little dictator.

"Do what, Rose?"

"Patonis."

"Oh, I – I can't."

Rose's brow crinkles, and she looks at him strangely. "Why not?" she asks incredulously as the four-year-old manages to shame him for his inability to perform the spell.

"I—" he fumbles, not wanting to tell her that his magical core has been tainted with Dark Magic for over ten years, not to mention he has no fucking happy thoughts. "I forgot."

"Oh," she says as she looks him over.

"Fuck," Draco rasps feeling his arm burn. "Um – I have to go, Rose."

"Can I come?"

"No. You have to stay here," he says, looking around for his Death Eater garb.

"Why? I want to come! I want to see where you work!" she whinges. "Mummy never lets me come. Please!" she says, getting off the bed and following him around the suite as he collects his belongings. His arm burns again, and he knows he will have to come up with an excuse. "Please!" Rose cries, pulling on his robes and turning into a fucking koala.

"ROSE, STOP!" he snaps, and he feels the third burn. "Fucking fuck mother –"

Rose begins to cry. "Stay here, and I'll bring you biscuits when I return," he barks and then disapparates without another word.

Draco apparates straight to the meeting room, and everyone is patiently waiting.

Including the Dark Lord.

"Draco – it's been a while since we've had someone so blatantly ignore the summons. Least of all you."

"Forgive me, my Lord – I –"

Voldemort holds his hand up. "Your excuses mean nothing. We will redirect after the meeting."

"Yes, my Lord."

The meeting proceeds as different teams report on their progress. The Order is continually converting more and more Muggles to their side, which sounds absurd, but with the magical trace, the Order has been steadily using magic less and less. Really only in combat now. That and acquiring a shite ton of Muggle weapons.

The meeting proceeds as Avery and his team update everyone on the successful raid of a Muggle warehouse where the Order has been keeping a large supply of food. The hope was that it was weapons, leaving their Muggle affiliates even more defenceless than the savages already are – but starving the safe houses is a solid win.

After the meeting, the Dark Lord vanishes the large table, and Draco moves to the centre of the room, where he kneels in front of the Dark Lord. Then, without any pretence, Voldemort draws his wand.

"Crucio."

…

Draco is surprised he doesn't splinch himself when he apparates his ragged arse to the kitchen, barely standing as he barks orders at the elf to give him some fucking biscuits. Then, biscuits in hand - hoping they are the right ones - Draco apparates to his room and collapses face-first on the floor.

"You were so rude to me!" cries Rose as she comes over to him. He turns his head to see that she has tears streaming down her face. "You left me!"

"S-sorry," he rasps, now feeling the full after-effects of the curse.

"Why did you leave me?" she says sadly.

"W-work."

"That's what mummy says," she sighs. "Oh! Biscuits," she says happily, seeing the treats.

Draco coughs a laugh and winces, every joint in his body on fire. Not to mention the ache in his head. He rolls onto his back and can see Rose scrunching her nose. "N-not r-right?"

She shrugs and takes a bite as he reaches for the pain potion in his pocket.

Rose begins to giggle and then slaps a hand over her face. "Sorry – mummy says it's rude to laugh when someone has an accident."

"What?"

She points at his trousers, and Draco curses, seeing that he fucking pissed himself either during the torture or shortly after when his muscles were still going crazy.

"F-fuck."

"Mummy says not to feel bad. Accidents happen."

Draco simply lies on his back with his eyes closed, trying to not sink into the floor in mortification that a fucking four-year-old little girl is consoling him because he fucking peed his pants.

"Rose?"

"Yes?" she says, mouth full of biscuit.

"Could you please give me a minute? Go get a book or –someth—shite—something," he winces, feeling another aftershock.

"Can I bring the biscuits?"

"Yesyoucanbringthefuckingbiscuitsjustgo!" he snaps.

"Do you want a biscuit? Mummy says I get cranky when I'm hungry."

Draco attempts to take a cleansing breath, willing himself not to snap at her again. He opens one eye when he feels something nudge his bottom lip.

It's a biscuit.

And so, he opens his mouth as Rose shoves the entire fucking biscuit in. "It's good," he mumbles, trying to chew the very dry piece of food. Rose smiles at him before taking the rest of the biscuits and finally leaving him the fuck alone.

…

"I'm bored."

Draco opens his eyes to see that he's still sprawled on his bedroom floor. Although his trousers are still wet, the pain has receded, and he quickly waves his hand to rid himself of his "accident."

"I'm boooooooooored."

Slowly sitting up, he sees Rose, sitting upside down in the wingback, getting her grubby little feet all over the chair while her wild hair hangs down, touching the floor, and her shirt dress has risen up revealing-

"Fuck, Rose –" he says, turning his head. "Where are your knickers?"

"I took them off."

"Uh—yes, I can – unfortunately - see that. Why?"

"Soliradiry."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Soliradiry – you were upset because you peed in your trousers, so I –"

"Oh, fucking Merlin, please don't tell me you –"

"Took them off and put them in the bath, so they're wet too. Soliradiry."

"You mean solidarity?" he asks, feeling supremely uncomfortable with – just - everything.

"That's what I said," she says in a swotty little voice.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Rose – just – don't do that. I'm fine."

"Okay."

Draco turns his head to see Rose standing next to him. "I'm bored."

"Right – I gathered," he says as he pulls himself to his feet. "I've got –" he looks around, seeing – nothing that would interest her. "I've got some stuff in my old room I can get for you later."

"But I'm bored now."

"For the love, Rose. Please. Go look at some pictures in a book or something."

…

Thirty Minutes Later

Draco steps out of the bathroom, having bathed, feeling better about his physical state, yet feeling the growing dread of his situational state.

Thankfully no one brought up the child at the meeting – hopefully under the assumption that the child died or the Order has her.

"Why can't I take off my underclothes, but other people can be naked?"

"What?" says Draco, still towelling off his hair. Of course, he could use his wand, but – the towel feels nice.

"Like in the books."

"Wait – what books?"

"The one's in the desk."

Merlin have mercy on his soul; she found his porn.

"Rose - don't ever go through my desk again."

…

Another Thirty Minutes Later

"I'm hungry."

"I can get some food from the kitchen. What do you want?" says Draco as he lifts his head from where he'd simply been sitting in his chair with his eyes closed.

"What is there?"

Draco groans when he sees Rose – where he left her – with ink all over the floor and smudges across her face as she draws picture after picture of dogs. "Salazar Rose, the ink belongs on the parchment, not everywhere else," he says as he stands and then waves his hand, vanishing the ink.

"This pen is funny. Nan only lets me use colouring pencils."

"Well, your nan –" Draco hesitates, remembering he fucking murdered her nan. "Well – she's a smart witch," he mumbles as he picks up one of the drawings. "What's this?"

"Otterhound," she says as she lays on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air, still drawing. "Harry reads my dog book to me when I see him. Only he can read it to me. I have another dog book with pictures too. I told him I want my Patonis to be an Otterhound, so it be like both, but he says that Otterhounds hunt otters, so I changed my mind—I want mine to be a snake."

Draco cocks his head. "You want your Patronus to be a snake?"

"Yes, like your snake snake."

"My What?"

"Your snake named Snake."

"Oh, right. I didn't realise you heard me tell you about him."

If only Granger knew that her daughter thinks the Dark Mark is "pretty" and wants her Patronus to be a fucking snake – he'd love to see her face.

Probably glare at him like Rose.

"And what is that?" he says, pointing to the picture she is currently working on. "Some kind of – cow?"

Rose looks up at him, and – there's that glare.

"Cow?" she says, affronted. "How could you think this is a cow?" she lifts the paper. "It's my favourite dog."

"Oh, uh—let me guess – a Jack Russel Terrier?"

Rose narrows her eyes. "No," she growls like a tiny bear as her lip trembles, causing Draco to feel like a cunt for mentioning her father's Patronus so casually.

"What's your favourite dog?" He asks, trying to distract her.

Rose's face finally crumples as she cries, then begins to crinkle up the parchment and throws it at him. "You're being rude to me!" she screams.

Draco stands frozen in shock as she storms out of the library but then comes back in with her arms crossed. "My favourite dog is a Germand Sheffer, and Harry said they take care of their family," she wails. "And you thought it was a cow!" she screams shrilly. "I hate the Sheffer. And I hate you!"

Not knowing what to do, Draco lifts his hands defensively as if approaching a wild animal – which isn't too off the mark.

"Rose – I'm sorry. Work was – difficult today, and I'll get you food and some toys from my old room, okay? Anything you want. I can even get you more biscuits."

Rose's eyes widen. "No!" she says, running up to him and hugging him around the legs. "Don't leave me again."

"Rose, I'll come right back," he says, pulling her off him and bending down. "I promise I'll come right back. You're safe in here. I've got it –" he was going to say warded, but she might not understand. "I've got special magic all around to keep bad things away, okay? So you stay here and draw me another pretty picture of a German Shepherd. It's—it's my favourite too," he lies, but the smile on her face makes it worth it. He pats her cheek twice and then disapparates.

…

After collecting supplies like a madman – which is a reasonably accurate description for him at this point – Draco returns to his bedroom and then makes his way to the library. Thank fucking Godric, Rose is peacefully drawing – albeit it's all over the wall – but still, he's just glad she's not in distress.

"Rose," he says softly. She turns around, and he instantly starts laughing, seeing that she's drawn on her face. "Are you supposed to be a racoon?" he asks in amusement.

"I'm Harry!" she giggles.

"Oh," he tilts his head, examining how she'd essentially given herself two black eyes rather than simply tracing round glasses. "You look like Potter with sunglasses on if I squint."

"I drew your dog."

"My dog?" he questions, and for an insane second, he wonders if she somehow knows about the dog he had when he was younger. But then she hands him a parchment, and he sees another picture of a cow. "Ah – German Shepherd?"

"Yes. You're favourite."

Right – his "favourite."

"It's very good. What else can you draw?"

"Snakes."

Draco now realises that the scribbles all over the walls aren't simply random swirly lines - they're snakes. "You should have been the one to decorate my childhood bedroom," he laughs. "And – perfect thing—" he pulls out his stuffed animal from when he was young.

"Snake!" she says excitedly as he hands it to her. "I'm happy to finally meet you, Snake."

After eating a meal consisting of far too much sugar than should be in any dinner for a young child, Draco helps Rose clean her teeth and prepare for bed.

"Good night, Rose."

"Night, daddy."

Draco's heart stops. "Rose - you shouldn't call me that."

He can see the outline of her little body, sitting up in the darkness. "But you take care of me."

"Right - yes. But that doesn't mean I'm - uh- your daddy."

"But- I thought -"

The girl starts crying, and Draco heaves a sigh. "Come here," he says as he pulls her into his chest. "My name is Draco. You can call me Draco. Yeah?"

"Okay, good night, da - Draco," she says pitifully, snuggling closer to him.

Salazar.

Draco wants to blame her confusion on Granger being a terrible mother, but given he's clinging to the girl because of the death of his own child - it makes sense since Weasley died when she was so young she'd cling to him like - like he's her father.

"Fuck," he rasps when he's sure she's asleep. "Now would be a great time to be able to Occlude."

...

Three Months Later

"For the love, Rose. Just pick something."

Rose scrunches her nose in deep thought as she walks around his childhood bedroom. It has become a weekly tradition for Draco to apparate her to his old room and let her pick one thing to bring to the master suite to curb the tragedy of Rose's boredom.

"I can't decide," she sighs as she dramatically flops onto his old bed.

"Well, you have to decide in the next thirty seconds because I've got a scheduled work meeting –" Rose begins to whinge. "Which I told you about yesterday, so you can't keep saying I keep leaving without telling you."

"I don't like it when you leave," she says sadly, referring to all the times he's had to abruptly answer his summons. It took quite some time to reassure her that he'd always come back, and after weeks of proving himself, she'd become less distressed whenever he'd grab his arm.

Draco looks at his watch and can see he still has a good hour before the scheduled meeting. He watches Rose roam around, wearing more of his clothes from when he was a boy. Thankfully his mother was a closeted hoarder who did not want to get rid of anything. He found some old robes from when he was around Rose's age, and apparently, all young children are about the same size when they're that little.

"This!" says Rose when she finally picks out an old figure of a dragon that had been buried under more toys in a trunk. "I love dragons."

"Do you?" he says, although he already knows, given they read the same damn book before bed on all the nights he can. Sometimes he has to, unfortunately, give her sleeping potions without her knowing so she falls asleep if he has to go out in the evening. But, the guilt of drugging a child doesn't compare to the emotional toll of leaving her to fend for herself overnight, and he figures the ends justify the means. Besides, he fucking kills people for a living, so — c'est la vie.

"I'll name him Draco," she says happily, grabbing his arm so he can literally apparate them down the corridor.

"So, his name is Dragon the dragon?"

"Yes," she says matter of factly. Of course, he should have known, given that her otter is named Otter, and all the other toys she's commandeered are named just as literally.

The number of times Rose asks about her nan and mother is - distressing. Whenever she brings them up, the reality that Draco isn't actually being a good person, but keeping a child prisoner after murdering her family member, makes him desperately want to occlude.

In fact, just being around the girl has him constantly wanting to occlude more and more. The more time he spends with her, the more vivid his dreams of Scorpius and what could have been are. He often dreams of holding him - of having been there when he was born - hearing his cries. It's fascinating what grief does to one's mind. And Draco has been downing his special pain potions left and right, knowing at this rate, his year supply will run out sooner than he'd planned for—which means he'll have to get more supplies and brew and –

"Daddy?"

Draco cringes. "Rose – remember the rules?"

"Draco daddy?" she says, and he shakes his head.

"No, just Draco. I'm not your daddy. Your father's name was - is Ron. We've talked about this."

Rose gives a sigh and nods. "I'm sorry, da—Draco."

Draco bends down and pushes her wild hair behind her ears. Regrettably, Draco has to concede there is no managing the mop of hair on her head, and he is just as inept at taking care of it as Granger has been.

"It's alright. I know it's confusing." Rose shakes her head in agreement.

"I miss mummy and Nan and Charwi and Harry and Gigi and Sevy and -" she dramatically sighs. "Everyone."

Draco's breath nearly leaves his lungs. Other than her mum and nan, Rose has only briefly mentioned Harry. Which was a shock, given the git was presumed dead. He doesn't know who "Charwi" is, nor does he really care, but –

"Sevy?" he asks slowly.

Rose nods.

"Who is Sevy?" Draco looks at the time; he's got ten minutes. Rose shuffles on her feet. "Rose. Who is Sevy?"

"He lets me watch him cut the plants."

A chill runs down his spine. "And what does Sevy do with the plants?"

"He puts them in a big round bowl, and it makes funny noises like blip bloop blip, and he yells at me if I lean too close and says I'll burn my frizzy hair off my head if I keep doing that." She shuffles more. "Oh, and he has a mask like yours but doesn't wear it anymore. He won't let me touch it like how you let me wear yours."

"You wear my mask?" he asks in shock, now understanding he hasn't been as absentminded as he thought, finding the damned thing in random places. Rose nods, looking at the ground. He sees that he has to leave, mind reeling at the implications that not only is Severus Snape most likely alive, but apparently, he works for the Order and lets Hermione fucking Granger's daughter watch him brew potions.

'He used to let me watch him cut the plants,' Draco thinks, feeling betrayed by a man he'd grieved over. Who he thought of as family. Who-

"Am I in trouble?" Rose asks, finally looking up.

"No, no," he says, pulling her into a hug without thinking. He's never initiated any kind of affection like this and quickly pulls back. "You've done nothing wrong. But I do have to go, okay? It's just a meeting, and I'll be back with some dinner, and then we can read."

"Can we have pudding for dinner and dinner for pudding?" she asks with a cheeky grin.

"Yes," he laughs. "Be back in a mo."

Draco disapparates just in time to walk into the meeting with the other Death Eaters and takes his seat. His stomach drops when he sees Greyback sitting at the table. The man has been in France for months, gathering followers and turning more people into werewolves. Draco notes that if the beast is going to be frequenting the manor again, he'll need to wear cologne or something to not give him a chance to scent Rose on him.

Voldemort speaks first.

"I've been informed that the Order has made contact and is negotiating a trade deal. Is this correct, McNair?"

Draco shifts in his seat. He wasn't aware they were in talks with any Order members, which is - odd.

"Yes, my Lord," says McNair. "They have proposed an exchange. It appears they are under the assumption we are keeping one of their members hostage."

Thankful to be wearing a mask, Draco can feel the sweat dripping down the side of his face and his back. His heart is pounding so hard that he thinks the Death Eater next to him might be able to hear it.

"And—are we? I know we've got Muggles stinking up the dungeons – but I haven't been informed we are in possession of an Order member."

"That is because we aren't," says McNair. "However, the Order member they assume we are keeping is the child that we had rightly assumed had been hiding at the safe house we raided three months ago."

"So - the child is simply missing?" he questions. "And who is this child that they think so important they will negotiate a trade?"

"The child is believed to be the offspring of the deceased Order member Ronald Weasley and the active Order member Hermione Granger."

The room begins to murmur as Draco subtly looks around the room. Finally, his gaze falls on Greyback again, and Draco sees him subtly lift his nose in the air.

Fuck.

"We will double our efforts to locate the child," says Voldemort, but then Greyback stands.

"Permission to speak, my Lord," the man says, not taking his eyes off Draco. Draco cautiously draws his wand, all the while thinking he's about to betray Rose. He promised he'd be back for her, and now - there's no way he can survive an entire room of—

"The child is dead," states Greyback. "I was part of the team to do an initial search for the child given I can - track the sent. Two months ago, I went to the safe house in Killarney and scented the child. I can confirm that it's Granger's. The sent had a familial similarity to the delectable witch I had the pleasure of scenting when she was last -" he gives a pointed look to Draco. "Captive here."

"And did you find the body? How do you know the child is dead?"

"I tracked her scent to the woods nearby and found her body. Unfortunately, it was close to the full moon, and I do apologise my Lord, but I – ate her," he says and then sits down, still staring at Draco.

What is his game?

The bizarre turn of events has Draco not paying attention to the rest of the meeting, now thinking of how to get Rose out of the manor. He could easily take her and just – leave.

The Dark Lord stands, and eventually, everyone is dismissed. Draco immediately moves to the corridor to apparate back to the suite. He pauses momentarily to calm down, not wanting to scare the girl.

"Someone's been naughty."

He should just apparate. Not engage. Just—

"I'm talking to you, boy," says Greyback as he clamps his hand on Draco's shoulder and spins him around pushing him against the wall. If Draco hadn't been such a fucking sod, he would have gone for his wand, but now Greyback has his wrists firmly in place as he pushes his fucking nose into his shoulder and sniffs.

"Why so tense," he whispers, then fucking licks Draco's neck. "You've grown into quite the wizard," he says, pulling back. The dynamic is different than when Greyback used to live at the manor when he was a boy, and Draco is now at eye level with him rather than looking up his ugly nose.

"What do you want, Greyback?" he spits, pushing back. Of course, the wolf man knows he can't actually harm Draco without consequence now that he's his superior.

Greyback takes a step back.

"I know what you've done," he says with a wicked grin. "See – I scented that little bitch back in that shite hole, but I also got your lovely familiar scent all over the place."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Yes, well, seeing as I was there –"

"And I followed both of your scents to just outside, where I gather you apparated – with the child." Greyback steps forward, sniffing a long, drawn-out breath through his nose. "Can smell her on you now and I must say – your scents compliment each other. Didn't take you for a child lover, but seeing as you now have got your own little cun—"

Draco grabs Greyback by his neck and pushes him back until he hits the other wall of the corridor. "Say it," he hisses, seeing the man's eyes bulge. "Say it, and I won't hesitate to Avada you right here in this fucking corridor for all the other Death Eaters to step over your body without a thought knowing there's one less liability for The Cause."

Greyback, struggling in Draco's grip, still manages a grin. "Like I said –" he grits out. "You've grown – is your prick bigger, too?" Draco tightens his grip, and the grin slips off his ugly face while his filthy hands claw at his neck.

"Okay, okay," he says in a choked voice as he puts his hands up in surrender. Draco uses a massive amount of self-control and loosens his grip. "But you should thank me," continues Greyback, voice slightly hoarse. "They think she's dead because of me. Now you can have her all to yourself – although you're going to have to share now that –"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Greyback's dead weight nearly pulls Draco down before he lets him go. Quickly looking around, he can see he's alone in the corridor. He also sees his wand in his hand still pointed at Greyback, slightly shaking, confirming that, yes – Draco just murdered Fenrir Greyback – a lead Death Eater, right in the fucking corridor outside the meeting room.

"Fucking fuck," he curses. Draco bends down and immediately dissaparates with the body. He aims for the bathroom of his suite, knowing the likely hood of Rose being in there would be less than anywhere else in the suite.

But of fucking course, the girl is there – sitting on the toilet.

"I'm almost done," she says matter-of-factly, not one iota put off by the dead body in Draco's grip. He looks away and can hear her shuffling. "I'm done," she says, and then she begins to giggle. Draco looks at the girl as she slaps her hand over her face. "Sorry – he peed."

Draco looks at Greyback, realising that the man's bladder released when he fucking murdered him.

"Right, yeah - he's still learning," says Draco as Rose starts coming closer, not understanding that the man is dead. "Rose – go have a nap," he says sternly.

"I'm not tired."

"I don't care. I told you to go have a nap. Go," he says, growing more panicked by the second.

"But—"

"GO IN THE FUCKING BEDROOM AND LAY DOWN!" he yells. Rose's eyes instantly well with tears.

Shite.

"Rose – I'm sorry. Please. Remember our rules. I tell you to do something you have to listen for your safety. Please," he nearly begs.

Rose wipes her eyes and nods her head. "Yes, daddy."

Draco cringes but lets it go, thankful she's at least listening to him.

Suddenly his left arm burns. "Not fucking now!" he curses. "Fuck," he groans. Draco isn't about to leave Rose with a dead body, so he quickly apparates to the garden to dump the body for the time being and then apparates to the meeting room.

After Lord Voldemort takes his seat, everyone remains silent, and it's evident that Greyback is the only person missing.

"Where is Fenrir?" questions Voldemort.

Damn. Right out the gate, then.

"He shouldn't have gone too far, my Lord," he hears someone say.

"I'd like him to elaborate on the manner of the child's death," says Voldemort. "We've gotten confirmation on who the Order plans to exchange – and whether we have the child - Avery has already sent the missive that we will do the exchange tomorrow."

"What Order member are they planning to exchange?" asks Draco.

"The child's mother – Hermione Granger," says McNair as his gaze falls on Draco. "We plan to take the proper precautions to ensure the witch doesn't escape this time."

Suddenly, one of the Snatchers enters the room. "We've located Greyback, my Lord – he's in the rose garden. He's - he's dead."

Everyone begins to murmur before Voldemort stands.

"Silence!" he hisses. "And what is the nature of his death?"

The Snatcher looks visibly nervous. "The diagnostic reveals death by Killing Curse."

At this point, everyone looks to Draco because they all fucking know there's a long history of animosity between the two, although the depth of Draco's hatred for the cunt goes far deeper than anyone knows.

And so, to get ahead of this growing cluster fuck of a situation, Draco stands to speak.

"Fenrir Greyback lied about the child, my Lord. I was suspicious of the wolf as he only now reported her death, even though he said she died at least two months ago. I took it upon myself to question him and discovered he was keeping the girl in hiding. I followed him to the room he usually uses here at the manor. I –" he takes a breath. "Found the girl and took her to my suite, and then Avada'd Greyback for his indiscretion."

Whether anyone believes him or not, the meeting continues in setting up the plan to exchange the girl for Granger. As loath as he is to admit, Draco knows that sending Rose back to the Order will be what's best for her. And the plus side is he now can personally interrogate Granger and wring her neck for being a shite mother and not protecting her daughter.

…

"Rose?"

Draco looks around the bedroom; of course, the girl is not napping in the bed. He goes to the library to find Rose sleeping in a chair with the book of plants in her hand, and he realises that Snape had given it to him back when he wanted to be a Potioneer. He hadn't even thought to report the knowledge that the wizard was likely alive and a traitor. But they'd question his source, and he has no intention of putting his source at risk.

He gently picks her up, places her on the bed, and then grabs Otter and Snake, tucking them in near her. "I'm sorry, Rose," he says, brushing her hair off her forehead, causing her little nose to wriggle. As much as he's looking forward to capturing a high-ranking Order member, he's not looking forward to witnessing Rose's reunion with Granger, only to have to take her away and separate them. It's not the child's fault her mum puts her "work" above her family.

Thankfully, Draco hasn't been asked to produce the girl until the meeting.

Unfortunately, he had to allude to the fact he was using her, and disgustingly enough, no one had any qualms. As if it made sense for him to take advantage of a – a fucking toddler.

"Salazar, you're only four, and you're already deeply entrenched in this fucking war. And I thought it was unfair that I was sixteen when I got pulled into all this shite," he says, watching her sleep.

Moving from the bed, Draco peers out the bay window as he removes his Death Eater garb. The sky is dark, and he can see the stars clearly. He'd taken Rose out on the balcony a few nights ago when she had a nightmare. All she said was she had a dream that he left and never came back. Walking back to the bed, Draco climbs in, knowing this will be the last night she'll be with him. And so, because he's a selfish bastard, he breaks rule number one and pulls her into his chest.

Draco studies her face wondering how the blasted little monster has so quickly wormed her way into whatever was left of his blackened heart - taking root like the sweet yet thorny little rose she is. He places a chaste kiss on her rosy cheek.

"Good night, Rose."

She shifts with a small sigh.

"Nigh, daddy."

…

There's a gentle breeze as Draco stands in an open field with Rose nestled into his chest. The grass is high, gently swaying with the wind, and he quickly glances back, seeing nothing but knowing there are about thirty Death Eaters lying in wait in case things go south.

"I'm hungry," says Rose petulantly.

"Well—I'm sure they'll feed you."

"I'll show you my dog book. Harry can read it to you," she says excitedly, looking up at him.

"Rose, I told you – I'm not coming with you." He can feel her stiffen.

"But you promised me!" she yells, instantly crying. "You lied. You're a liar! You said you wouldn't leave me again!"

"Rose, I –"

Suddenly, there's the unmistakable crack of apparition in the distance.

"You promised," she continues to cry, holding onto him tightly.

Draco has to ignore her. It won't bode well for him if he reveals how bloody attached he is to the girl. Maybe even more than she to him.

Two figures appear in the distance and begin walking towards them. Draco instantly recognises Granger's hair and nearly laughs, seeing her at such a distance, making her look so small that the resemblance to Rose is uncanny.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco tries to discern who the second person is, confused, thinking it's Ron Weasely. For a brief moment, Draco's heart drops, thinking her actual father is there, coming to take her from him.

Rose turns her head and instantly smiles, seeing the pair. "Mummy!" she cries excitedly and nearly jumps out of his arms. Draco keeps a firm grip, knowing he has to get custody of Granger before he can let Rose go.

"Hold up, she's coming to you," he whispers in Rose's ear.

"Uncle Chawie, too!" she giggles.

Draco relaxes slightly, seeing – as Rose confirmed – that the ginger isn't Ron but simply another Weasley sprog.

They're finally close enough to speak, and Draco keeps a stoic face as Rose reaches out for Granger, who looks – terrible.

Her eyes are sunken, and she is far too thin. It's a look he's seen before.

Grief.

His mother was much the same before she—took matters into her own hand. Lucius had been killed during the Battle of Hogwarts, and after years of grief - she was done.

"Hello, my darling," says Granger, eyes locked on Rose. She then looks at Draco, and his stomach churns, seeing the torment in her eyes, not to mention they're the same colour as Rose's, making him feel – strange. "I'd like to hold her," she says, nodding. Not a command. Not a question. Just a fact.

"I have to ensure that you are in my custody before I can let her go," he says flatly.

"I understand," she says and then simply steps forward and proceeds to hug her daughter while she's still in his fucking arms, inadvertently hugging him as well. Draco stiffens, and thankfully the gesture is brief as Granger pulls back. There's another cracking noise as McNair appears to take Granger.

"Why?" Draco blurts, causing Granger to furrow her brow. "Why would you leave her in that shite hole? Your idea of protecting her was a fucking joke, Granger," he scoffs.

"Stop," she snaps. "You have no idea, Malfoy," she spits. "You've no idea what we've been through."

"As if the Weasel's death is an excuse for you to let fucking Mol —" he falters, not wanting to say the name in front of Rose. "Let that waist of space be the one to watch her. Do you have any idea how easy it was to break into your so-called safe house?"

"Malfoy," comes a stern voice. He turns to see the ginger glaring at him. The man is slightly intimidating with the crude burns on the side of his face and on his exposed arms. "You're going to regret what you've done," he says coldly.

Rose's child ears be damned; Draco can't not say something.

"Does it bother you, Granger?" he says mockingly as he turns to the witch, while he's still holding her daughter. "That your daughter was in the care of a Death Eater for the past three months. That I could have easily hurt her or – or worse?"

Granger stares at him for a moment as McNair grips her arm. "Does it bother you that you've grown attached to her?" she quips back. "That you've let her into your heart, and now you're taking away her mother?"

"Mummy?" questions Rose.

"It's okay, darling. I'm going on holiday, yeah?" says Granger with a smile. "Just like you've been on holiday." She then looks back at Draco. "I feel sorry for you, Malfoy," she says, making him sneer at her. "I'm sorry that you lost your family." Draco's eye twitches at the thought that any details of his personal life have somehow made it back to the Order. She looks back at Rose, who is still clinging to Draco. "Rose, your father –"

Yet before she even gets another word out or even says goodbye, McNair fucking dissaparates with Granger.

"Mummy!" Rose cries in shock, and Draco reflexively pulls her closer, kissing her temple as she continues to cry softly.

"It's okay," he says and then catches himself as he sees the ginger eyeing him curiously.

"The Death Eaters are a cruel lot," the wizard says with tears in his eyes, probably not having expected them to take Granger so quickly. But then he clears his throat and sticks out his fucking hand. "Name's Charlie – Charlie Weasley." Draco ignores the absurd gesture, and the man fucking shrugs as he lets his arm fall. "Was worth a shot," he huffs. "Ready to go home?"

Draco can feel Rose nodding, still clinging to him. "Is he coming too?" she says as Draco finally hands her to the ginger. Charlie grabs Rose with one arm and then grips Draco's wrist. "Yeah, love – he's coming too."

"What the fu—"

*** CRACK***

…

Draco opens his eyes in confusion, only to see fucking Charlie hovering over him. "There he is," he says.

Then, moving his limbs, Draco quickly discovers that he's chained to a wall in some dank cell.

"Fuck you," he spits in the wizard's face.

Charlie snorts a laugh, wipes his cheek and then sits in a chair in the corner of the cell and simply stares at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what you've done? You just fucking kidnapped the Dark Lord's –"

"Bitch, right?" says Charlie with a quirked brow.

Draco practically snarls at him as he pulls on the chains again.

"See, Malfoy – the thing is – you were part of the deal, so—" he shrugs. "And seeing as someone who I care deeply for is now at the mercy of the Death Eaters – I'm going to make sure that I make good use of you."

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Seems that Moldy Voldy thinks Hermione is so dangerous that your friends went behind your back and sweetened the deal a bit. They said that you're on the verge of defecting, given you fucking murdered their beloved Werewolf while also lying about harbouring the daughter of a prominent Order member for the past three months. It's almost –" he cocks his head and then rubs his chin mockingly. "Almost as if you care for the child."

Seeing that the insane wizard seems entirely at ease, Draco closes his eyes, letting the reality sink in that he's not lying.

He thinks over the past few meetings. Also, the reason why he'd been left out of the negotiations.

Also, killing Greyback was pretty damning evidence of his - "disloyalty."

But Draco knows he never had any intentions of defecting – well, he did plan to leave and take Rose but not necessarily defecting.

"She's asking for you," says Charlie softly, looking Draco over.

"Ah, yes. Seems as though your niece likes to keep company with a known Death Eater."

"Well – you're wrong," says Charlie with a sigh as he stands. "You're not a Death Eater anymore, mate."

"If you think you'll get anything out of me or get me to fucking work for the Order, you might as well Avada me because it will be a waste of time."

"That so, Malfoy?" says Charlie as he opens the cell door to leave and then shuts it while studying Draco.

"Yes - That so," he mocks.

Charlie turns to leave but then quickly turns back around. "Oh, one more thing –" he starts. "You look like shite, Malfoy," he smirks.

Draco can feel a headache coming on and reaches into his pocket, causing the chains to scrape against the floor. "Where the fuck is my potion?"

"Sorry, mate. I dumped them – thought they might be something nefarious - you know how it is," he says as he fucking shrugs again.

"Fuck you, you fucking twat! It's a simple pain potion," he growls.

"Mhmm," says Charlie, unbothered.

"Fuck - you." Draco leans his head against the stone wall and closes his eyes to take a cleansing breath. He hasn't gone more than a few hours without the potion and knows the withdrawal will be a bitch. "If I don't take the potion, the pain will be unbearable, and I'll be forced to occlude - which I can't because I'll fry my brain. So, unless you want a mindless body, you need to give me something."

"Ah – I've got some bread."

"Cunt."

"Right, well – lovely chat, Malfoy." And with that, Charlie leaves.

"Wait," calls Draco.

"Yeah?" he hears Charlie call back, and judging by the echo, he thinks the man is standing on a stairwell.

"What if I have to piss?"

"Bucket is in the corner. Night."

Draco looks over and sees that there is, in fact, a bucket in the corner.

"Fuck."

…

Draco must have fallen asleep at some point because he wakes with a pounding headache, sweating profusely, and a desperate need for the loo. He slowly pulls himself up and begrudgingly walks towards the bucket, only to be pulled back because the chains aren't fucking long enough for him to even reach the bloody thing.

"Fucking cunt," he says gruffly as he walks around, seeing how far he can go around the cell. He sees the chair in another corner, quite a bit closer to him than the bucket and then smirks as he pulls out his cock and angles himself just right, then proceeds to piss all over Charlie's chair.

Draco slumps back against the wall, satisfied with his work.

…

"Lovely," he hears Charlie say. Draco opens his eyes and can't help but chuckle, watching Charlie eye the piss-covered chair. Of course, the wizard simply waves his hand to vanish the liquid but decidedly remains standing. "Merlin, Malfoy, what did this poor chair ever do to you?"

"It looked uncomfortable," he says with an eye roll, and the wizard fucking laughs like he told the funniest joke.

"Brought you some food," Charlie says once he finally calms down.

"Why?"

"Because you've been here for over twenty hours, so I expect you're hungry, that's why."

"No, you fucking berk. Why do you care whether I'm hungry?"

Twenty hours? He must have slept more than he realised, but given how much pain he's in, he's grateful he can even sleep.

"She was clean and well-fed."

Draco stiffens.

"And she seems happy despite - despite everything," says Charlie with an unreadable expression. "Truthfully, she's confused about where her mum is, and she's proper miffed she can't see you. She keeps asking for you."

Draco's lip lifts slightly but he keeps his head down so Charlie doesn't see.

A piece of bread is tossed at his feet, and Draco nearly hurls just from the sight of it, having been feeling nauseous for the past few hours with his head feeling like it's in a vice. Draco finally looks up to see Charlie is already gone. Draco waves his hand to vanish the bread and curses when nothing happens. His wandless magic is useless without his potions and brain feeling like it's on fire. Draco kicks his foot out instead, putting distance between himself and the food before closing his eyes.

…

Draco wakes up with a groan, drenched in sweat. He grimaces when he sees (and smells) that he's thrown up in his sleep all over his front, and he can barely lift his head or move his limbs, while his body won't stop shaking.

"F-fuck," he groans and closes his eyes, knowing he's also shit himself. "F-fuck," he rasps again just before he vomits; thankfully, this time, he can slightly turn his head to not get as much on himself.

He winces when a bright light enters the cell and blearily opens one eye. It's a Patronus, but it's hard to make out the animal with his hazy focus.

"Hi."

The voice of Harry fucking Potter rings in his ears.

"Keep talking…I can't hear him…it only works one way…oh…hi daddy. Harry is letting me use his patonis to say hi. Hi. Okay, bye….is that good? Well….er…yeah…"

Draco can't help the sob that comes from his mouth as he shivers, just wanting to see Rose's face again.

…

"How much longer?"

Draco's eyes flutter open when he hears Charlie's voice as a cool flannel is placed on his head, and he can tell that someone has cleaned him up.

"I'm not sure, but it seems to be leaving his system fairly quickly." Draco's eyes finally regain focus to see the face of a young witch he can't quite place. "Sev will be back tomorrow and can run a full diagnostic."

"S-sev c-can go f-fuck h-himself," says Draco, still shaking. "M-my head. P-please."

"Gin, is there anything we can give him for the pain?" asks Charlie.

"M-my fucking p-potion you d-dumped, you c-cunt," he says in a trembling voice. "F-fuck. I—" he groans when he feels a sharp pain in his gut and can't help as he defecates right where he lies. "S-sorry," he croaks, in too much pain to do anything other than apologise.

"Shhh, it's okay, Draco. It has to leave your body one way or another," says who he now realises is Ginny fucking Weasley. She waves her hand to clean his mess and strokes his hair until everything goes black.

…

"Draco."

Draco opens his eyes to see Snape kneeling near him while he flicks his wand, performing some kind of diagnostic spell.

"Is it gone?" he hears Charlie ask.

"It appears so," drawls Snape. Draco blinks a few times, head still pounding but no longer feeling like he will throw up. He also isn't sweating or shaking anymore. "Sit up," says Snape.

"S-so, you f-faked your death and j-joined the Order?" questions Draco, voice shaky but still laced with contempt.

"I joined the Order when you were still in nappies. And I didn't fake my death. I simply survived an attempt on my life, and it was conveniently assumed by the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters that I – perished."

Draco takes in the startling confession, feeling betrayed by a man he had trusted for all those years.

"You m-mean you were f-fucking working with the Order when I w-was forced to get the M-mark and t-tasked with k-killing Dumbledore?" he asks. "F-fuck you, Snape," he says and then spits in the wizard's face. Snape barely flinches as he wipes away the spittle.

Charlie kneels down next to him.

"Hold him down," orders Snape as he draws his wand. Charlie pushes Draco onto his back.

"What the f-fuck?"

Snape then places his wand right on his temple.

"W-wait, what the f-fuck? What are y-you d-doing?" he asks, body shaking uncontrollably as the ginger holds him down.

"I told you, you were going to regret killing mum," says Charlie with a pained look in his eyes.

Draco inhales sharply. "W-wait, before – b-before you k-kill me. Just. What's her n-name?" he asks, heart pounding. "Just—I j-just want to know what her n-name is. Her r-real n-name."

Charlie's eyes bore into Draco's for far longer than he thinks necessary.

"Her name is Rose."

Draco instantly sneers. "You're f-fucking cr-cruel," he hisses. "I named her R-rose."

Charlie glances at Snape and then back at Draco.

"I know, Draco. You named her."

A chill runs down Draco's spine, and then he flinches when Snape presses the tip of his wand further into his temple. Snape mutters an incantation, and the pain in Draco's head amplifies as he lets out a strangled cry.

"Easy," says Charlie. "You need to stop occluding, and it won't hurt as much."

"F-fuck y-you, I'm not oc-cl-cluding," he grits out, followed by another cry.

"Yes, you are – you just don't realise it anymore," Charlie says as he presses against Draco's shoulders.

Something in Draco's brain shifts as he feels a release of pressure.

"Good, Draco – follow that feeling," he hears Snape say.

Suddenly, Draco gives another strangled cry as his brain is flooded with mental pictures as voices begin to ring in his head.

"You'll never get anything out of me with that shite. I'm an Occlumens and can easily get around Veritaserum."

"That so, Malfoy?"

"You're more insufferable than your mum."

"Malfoy, you're part of this now, so she's your mum too. And knowing her, she's probably already knitted you a jumper with DM on the front."

"Yay, me."

"You know you want one."

"Ron — I can neither confirm nor deny."

"Potter keeps telling me to talk to you."

"Okay –"

"This is me – talking to you."

"Malfoy, the way you can articulate is truly inspired. Your eloquent words will perseverate in my mind forev—"

"Granger—"

"What?"

"Fuck you."

"Your lot will never win unless you can get around the magical trace."

"First of all, Malfoy – this is your lot too. And since you don't seem to agree with anything I suggest—what do you suggest we do? Go off the wizarding grid and do everything the Muggle way?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"You should have left me, Granger. Why are you such a bleeding heart Gryffindor? If you ever do something like that again, I swear on Morgana's dried-up cunt that I will walk right back to fucking Voldemort and get a second Mark."

"No, you won't."

"No. No, I won't – fuck, Granger. You're such a—a bitch. I hate you."

"No – no, you don't."

"No – I don't."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, Malfoy. Fuck."

"Seeing as you have a fairly happy memory to work with, what do you think about giving it another go?"

"Potter - fuck - well, seeing as you might actually be right, I'll try one more time. But if this doesn't work—"

"Awe, come on, mate. Potter sees and knows all—you got this."

"Fuck off, Charlie. Shite – okay- Expecto Patronum!"

"Fuck, shite. Look at that."

"What is it?"

"It's a very large looking - dog. Fuck. I wanted a dragon."

"I think it's a German Shepherd – makes sense, Draco. Very protective of their family."

"Yeah, mate. Now you and I can start our own pack seeing as we both have fucking dogs as our Patronus."

"Look at her adorable rosy cheeks, Draco."

"She's beautiful, Hermione. We should call her Rose."

"She keeps grabbing my nose."

"Well, she probably thinks it her own personal wand – so pointy."

"If you steal my nose, I will steal yours, Rose."

"Draco, she's eight months old – she doesn't know what your saying."

"I'll teach you when you're older."

"Fuck, Hermione. I - couldn't do anything. I - he's dead."

"I can't move - too tired."

"Ah, yes. Too tired of taking care of a two-year-old while I'm off literally in the pit of hell."

"I pushed her out."

"Okay – you keep pulling that card—"

"Because it works."

"Fuck. Yes. Okay – I'll bathe her this time."

"I think I figured out a way to get around occluding so much - to help with the pain."

"What?"

"It's a potion I'm experimenting with – effects memory – basically will help me to keep things hidden artificially."

"Sounds dangerous, Draco."

"You want to name your otter Otter? You know, when I was your age, my mother gave me a snake, and I named him Snake. Maybe I can find him someday so you can meet him. Would you like that? Yes? Ah—my girl - come here."

"You're getting so good at drawing, Rose. What's this? A cow?"

"Daddy Pa-to-nis."

"Is this my Patronus? Are you sure it's not a cow dog? - Rose! Don't hit. Oh, there's the glare. As much as you look like your mum, you definitely get your anger from me. Here have a biscuit. Don't tell your mother that she got me hooked on these blasted Hob Nobs."

"Nob nobs."

"Close enough."

"You're walking a dangerous path, Draco. This might work for now, but we don't know the effects of long-term use. And going by what's in it, I suspect it's highly addictive."

"You think I like that I've been drugging myself to keep everything hidden? Sev, what other choice do I have? — When have I ever even had a choice."

"Daddy?"

"Rose—you need to go back to bed."

"Where you going?"

"I have to go to work. I promise I'm coming back. Come here — Uncle Charlie and the others will all be here, so you be a good girl. Now go with Aunty Gin."

"I've got her, Draco. Come, love."

"Molly, if — if this goes sideways — if—"

"Hush now — you can do this. She needs you. Rose will be safe. You know we'd all give our lives to protect that girl. Now go before I switch places with you and shove my wand up Voldemort's arse to Avada him myself."

"He wouldn't stand a chance. I still can't wrap my head around your efficiency with the Killing Curse."

"This is war, Draco. Now — off with you."

"Thanks for everything, mum — I'll be back soon."

…

Draco's eyes open in a panic, seeing Charlie looking at him in concern.

"Fuck," he croaks. "Oh, fuck —" Draco tries to sit up, pushing Charlie and Snape out of the way, only to fall back to the ground. "Let me see her," he says, feeling dizzy. "Fuck, Charlie," he sobs. "Let me see my daughter."

"Easy, Draco. You need to rest," says Snape, casting another diagnostic.

"LET ME FUCKING SEE HER!"

"Calm down," says Charlie. "You'll see Rose soon enough. Merlin knows how many times she's tried to break in here."

"Hermione," gasps Draco, now realising where she is.

"I know."

"She — she –"

"Draco – you need to rest and get your strength up because as soon as you can fucking stand without falling over — we're going to get your wife back."

...

Definition of Dissolution in regards to Ego Death: Entering an altered state of consciousness, either through sustained meditation or psychedelic drug use.