Living through the war had left deeper scars than Draco had realized. There were things that made him jump in fright and it was only the magic in his sheets that let him sleep at all. It felt as though he was contracting in on himself, all the parts of him pulling away from his flesh to become shriveled and microscopically small.

The only thing that kept him from losing his control and screaming from the rooftops in the madness only a complete loss of everything could bring was the warm rush of the soulbond.

It tied him to the world, and his world was Charlus. Just knowing that he wasn't alone here was enough to let Draco pull himself out of the dark hole he could feel himself falling into.

And on top of everything else, there were things he kept finding out about his own body.

He'd known that he wasn't human anymore, that he was a veela, his blood something unclean and strange. But knowing and knowing were two very different things. He simply hadn't expected to feel so different, alien, and not just because of the changes in the mirror.

He had been changed on the inside too. The way he looked at things or reacted to things that happened in his life, it was all different. He was different. And it terrified him when he let himself think about it.

So he was relieved that Charlus never gave him a chance to brood. He was constantly pulling Draco after him, urging him to get involved with different things in this new life. And Draco really tried.

It made him particularly pleased to realize that he was fond of Hadrian. The little squashed looking baby found a place in his heart and grew there, becoming more of a person everyday. And Draco found himself loving he baby as his very own and it was completely natural.

As anchors to this new and strange life, Charlus and Hadrian did a good job.

They gave him a reason to keep going forward day by day. He was grateful for that, as he had nearly given up the idea of experiencing new tomorrows.

He was actually very surprised by how natural Hadrian felt in his arms and by how comfortable he was listening to that little voice. Raised an only child, he had been sure that babies were nothing he wanted anything to do with. Except Hadrian was adorable and laughing and just having him nearby forced Draco to remember at all moments that he was alive.

The future spun out unwritten, and it was his duty to ensure that Hadrian saw as much of it as possible.

"I won't let the bad man get you this time," he whispered against Hadrian's downy head, the soothing scent of powder filling his nose. Hadrian was a warm weight in his arms, already gaining solidity even after a few months of life.

Draco wasn't completely certain about the history of the Black family, but he was sure that Hadrian Potter had died before he was twenty-seven years old at the hands of the Dark Lord. He was one of the reasons that James Potter had been so fierce in his convictions that Voldemort be stopped.

"I see that my grandson already has you wrapped around his finger."

Draco didn't jump. He turned to look at Nigel Potter-another of the Dark Lord's victims-and smiled. "He's a surprisingly well-behaved baby. I always thought that they cried all the time and there would be no reason to bother with them, but Hadrian is a remarkably good baby."

"He is a Potter." Though he came across as coldly urbane in the company of outsiders, amongst family-which he seemed to consider Draco as his son's soulbond-Nigel was hearty and robust. He was filled with family loyalty and already Draco could tell that there wasn't anything Nigel wouldn't do for the good of the Potter line.

It made Draco wistful for the man Lucius could have been. The man he'd thought his father was when he was a child and the world hadn't looked quite so hopeless and dark.

"Charlus told me that you wouldn't go with him today," Nigel said, coming to stand close to the rocking chair where he could gaze down into Hadrian's face.

Draco's shoulders wanted to hunch in on themselves, but he held himself still. "I didn't think I was ready yet to leave the house. Too many people around makes me feel uncomfortable. I didn't want to be bad company."

Nigel frowned. "You have spoken to that healer of yours since you left hospital, haven't you?"

"Yes. He says it's only a matter of time. I've been visiting with the mind healers once a week." He hated the sessions, but he knew that they were something he needed. Even with all the truths he was hiding, he still needed help to straighten out the tangle living in his head.

"Good. We need to make sure that they're doing the best that they can for you," Nigel said. "You are a member of the Potter family now. You will be treated with respect."

Draco jiggled Hadrian lightly. "Thank you for taking such good care of me." He meant it too. Considering the way his life had gone, he wouldn't have been too surprised to end up in some flop house in Knockturn Alley. Instead he was welcomed at Potter Manor and somehow he'd been given Charlus and Hadrian.

"It was the least we could do." Nigel brought his wand out and with a quick flick conjured a stuffed white rabbit that he wiggled in front of Hadrian.

Draco wanted to point out that even though Hadrian was obviously a brilliant baby, he was still just a few months old. It would be a while yet before he would start caring about toys or anything else. Draco bit his tongue instead and watched Nigel attempt to entertain his grandson.

It made him wonder what his life would have been like if his grandfather had lived. From what he understood-true facts, not the fairy stories he'd been fed growing up-Abraxas had been a fierce and powerful man. He never would have bowed down to a lord; though he might have hung around one as an equal.

Draco thought about going to meet the Malfoys. They were his family, even if most had been killed before he was born. He was curious to visit these living leaves on the soon-to-be-withered Malfoy family tree. Knowing them, though, he would rather stay away and remain free of curses.

That was the most difficult thing he faced, being back in time. There were so many things that he could try and change, but he honestly didn't know what he rightfully should do.

It had taken him years to become mature enough to start thinking for himself. Torture and prison had been a harsh impetus to get him to finally grow up. And somewhere along the way he'd absorbed the idea that while the Dark Lord had made things impossibly worse, there had been deeper problems simmering for years.

The magical world was dying, it was a sad fact. Magical species were disappearing, and the gap between Muggle and Magical was an ever widening one.

He would never fully understand the idea behind Muggle technology, but he'd been there during Hermione's discussions with Harry. Huddling in an abandoned house like rats, listening to them had been his only source of entertainment.

He hadn't understood a lot of the terms, but he'd gotten the gist of what they were saying and it had made an impression. Enough that while he had been sent back in time, his first impulse hadn't been to go find the Dark Lord and kill him. And it wasn't because he'd gone soft and Voldemort was currently the sad orphan Tom Riddle.

What held him back was the thought that it would do no good. The Wizarding World was on the brink of a revolution-either to step forward to match the Muggles, or stick to tradition-and Voldemort had simply taken advantage of the opening. And if not him, some other Dark Lord would have appeared.

It was inevitable, and the only thing he could do to stop it was to change Society. An impossible task for an inexperienced time traveler.

Draco looked down at Hadrian in his arms. The tiny pink baby with a thatch of black hair on his head shouldn't have to grow up in a world at war, and neither should any of the other babies out there. They deserved to live without Dark Lords and dementors, in a world without the nightmares of Draco's childhood.

"You should get out of the house today, even if it's just for a walk," Nigel said. "It's not healthy that you remain cooped up inside."

Draco looked into the man's concerned eyes. "That's a good idea. I'll take Hadrian on a walk in the gardens after lunch."

Nigel patted him on the knee. "Good. You need a little sun on your cheeks."

Draco smiled. Sunlight to banish away the shadows living in his head. He lived to hope that someday all of the shadows of future-past would disperse into nothing, and he would be the only one to ever have experienced such a dark future.

Hadrian would grow up innocent and the world would be a better place.

"Yes."

* . * . *

All of his life he had thought that he was happy, but it was only now that Charlus knew what happy truly was. Because every day that he could feel the warm rush of Draco's presence in the corner of his mind was a good one.

There was no loneliness with a soulbond, he found. He had Draco as a constant sense of warmth, and as a result he went through his days with a besotted smile and a lightness to his step.

He might have been embarrassed about his foolish sense of happiness, but he couldn't find it in himself to care what anyone else thought. He'd found the other half of himself, and though he pitied all those lonely souls out there, he had Draco and that made him feel lighter and more whole.

Everyone already knew that he'd found his soulbond. There had been a tasteful article in the Daily Prophet and people were already angling for invites to his Bonding Ball. He'd put them all off so far, as he didn't want to arrange something that would make Draco uncomfortable.

It upset Charlus to feel the echo of Draco's fear whenever there were too many people around. Even with all of Charlus' reassurances, Draco still worried that the Dark Lord would come for him.

Charlus had never had much concern about Grindelwald and his followers. They were far away and their reach didn't quite extend to the shores of Britain. Except now he had Draco in his life, and the knowledge that someone he knew and loved had been so devastatingly hurt ... It filled Charlus with a sense of outrage.

For the first time in his life, Charlus knew what his father meant when he spoke of protecting the interests of people he loved. Because he wanted to protect Draco and defend him. He wanted to take all of the pain out of Draco's eyes until only happiness was left. And if he could have brought Draco's mother back to him alive and well, he would have done that too.

It pained him that there were some things he simply could not do for Draco. There were some shadows that simply could not be lifted.

Draco had been tortured and nearly killed. It was only luck and his perseverance to survive that had kept him alive and allowed him to escape.

If things had gone just a little differently, Charlus never would have had the chance to meet Draco. He would have gone through the rest of his life never knowing what he was missing, and somehow the idea of it made something in his chest ache.

It was a sharp pain digging through him. The idea that he might never have met Draco would have meant going through his entire life with an empty space resounding through him. A space that never would have been filled, and Charlus wouldn't have even known what he was missing, who he was desperately wishing to see. He would have lived and died and never known how empty everything was.

Resolve growing in his chest, Charlus didn't hesitate to step up when his name was called. Hundreds of eyes all focused on him, curious about what issue he was so desperate to bring before the Wizengamot that he was willing to proxy the Potter seat, something he had always shied away from before. He'd never had a political bone in his body and he'd fought to keep his freedom as a carefree scion of a wealthy family.

But Draco was important, and just having him around had built up a desire for justice in Charlus' chest. He needed to make sure that Draco would be kept safe from any harm. He needed to stop Grindelwald and his followers from coming around and taking Draco back to the torments they wanted to inflict.

"There has been a great injustice," Charlus started, gripping the sides of the podium with both hands to stop their nervous tremble. He'd never been fond of public speaking, but this was something that needed to be done. "Our world has allowed an evil force to flourish in the shadows, and we've only made excuses for the wrongs being done. Wizards and witches have been tortured and killed, and we are all guilty of standing by and letting it happen. We are all guilty, but I refuse to be guilty any longer. I refuse to watch as our world falls apart around us."

Draco hadn't spoken a lot about what the Dark Lord had done to him, but he hadn't needed to. Charlus could feel the shattered wounds inside Draco, the raw places that still seeped with pain and fear, and though Draco hadn't outright said the words, Charlus knew that he was afraid of being captured again, of being hurt more.

So Charlus would do what he could to protect Draco, and part of that involved changing the world. Because if Charlus stood up in front of the Wizengamot and spoke the right words, he might be able to put an end to Grindelwald's reign of terror. And if there was no Dark Lord, there would be no one to hurt Draco ever again.

I will protect you, Charlus vowed. His eyes went steely with resolve and his voice rose and fell in the practiced cadences he'd learned from his father. He was young and handsome and there wasn't a single wizard or witch in the room that hadn't given him an admiring glance at some point in his life.

He was Charlus Potter and he loved Draco Malfoy enough to stand up and proclaim it in the best way possible. By destroying Draco's enemies and keeping him safe.

He didn't even mind that his careless days were over and he would never again be able to step out of the public eye. He was no longer a boy, but a man.

* . * . *

Draco was lying curled around Hadrian's pajama clad form on the low-set child's bed. The lights had been dimmed and there was a night light mobile projecting autonomous shadows that danced and capered on the walls. The only sound was Hadrian's puffing breaths and Draco's toneless humming.

He had closed his eyes and his head felt like a peaceful place for once. The sweet baby smell of Hadrian soothed some primal instinct he hadn't realized he possessed.

There was a soft sound and he had his wand up and pointed at the door with a protego half-formed when he recognized the feel of Charlus and relaxed with a sigh. "Sorry. My paranoia got away from me."

Charlus still looked surprised at how fast Draco had drawn his wand, but he smiled. His movements smoothed into something nearly languorous. "You don't need to apologize for being able to protect my two beloveds."

"Two?"

"You and Hadrian. It makes me happy to know that you love Hadrian so much. That you would protect him," Charlus said.

Draco's lips pinched. "It makes me happy when I see you. I love Hadrian for himself."

Charlus crossed the floor in a quick sweep and was kneeling beside the bed before Draco could blink. He pressed the palm of hand against Draco's cheek , his thumb tracing the pale eyebrow. "I try to imagine what my life would have been like without you in it, and I can't picture it. There was no life before you. The world was all shadows and numbness, and it took you to realize what it could all be like. And that's why I've done this for you."

"Done what?"

Charlus leaned close, so close that Draco was staring straight into his hazel eyes from inches away. "I know you are afraid that Grindelwald will come for you again. I know that you have night terrors, because the house elves trap them in your sheets to spare you the memories. I know that more than anything you want to stay here with me. That's why I've done it."

He paused long enough that Draco cocked his head impatiently. Charlus looked almost in a daze, his pupils burst wide and his lips wet from his nervous licking.

"I spoke to the Wizengamot a few weeks ago and I've put in several petitions and letters of intent. I've spoken to people from the Left and the Right, and I've even opened contact with the nearest veela settlement. And tonight it finally went through."

"What did?" Draco asked.

"We've declared war against Grindelwald. He and his followers have been declared Anathema and will not be allowed into Great Britain. The wards will fry them if they try. None of them can come here." Charlus' voice lowered to a whisper breathed directly into Draco's ear. "You're safe."

Draco nearly wanted to cry. Charlus was trying so hard to make him happy. It didn't even matter that it had resulted in the wrong Dark Lord being targeted.

He wrapped his arm around Charlus and held him close for a long moment, careful not to crush the sleeping Hadrian. "You are a very beautiful man, did you know that?"

Charlus flushed, visible even under the flickering light of the spinning mobile. He brought his face closer and Draco's breath caught. Their lips touched, a gentle lingering kiss that didn't try to become anything more.

Charlus had spoken to the mind healers. He could feel Draco's unrest. And even though he could have demanded so much and gotten it, he'd been sweet in his wooing.

Draco had never been Courted before. It was one of those old fashioned things that had fallen out of favor. He'd had sex with Harry and Blaise, one his first and the other his last, and both relationships had been full of quick fumbling encounters. With Blaise there'd been no chance to linger because they were both in the midst of escorting their fiancees around; Astoria had died before the wedding, leaving Draco single while Blaise had married and largely disappeared. Harry had happened because he'd refused to die without at least once gorging himself on sex and life. They'd fucked in-between missions. Then Harry had died.

Charlus was different though. He treated Draco as though he were special, and he'd begun the official Courting steps with no doubt that he wasn't going to want anyone else in his entire life. That amount of raw faith was astonishing to Draco; more because it was faith in *him*.

Harry had been the closest thing he'd had to a real romantic love. Yet even Harry had doubted him. He'd gotten used to that askance look whenever he suggested anything that sounded even remotely like it could secretly be some kind of trap. Harry hadn't meant to hurt his feelings with that look, but it had burned its way into Draco's mind that no matter what he did or who he became, people were always going to look at him as his father's son. He was Draco Malfoy.

He'd become used to being distrusted. He'd also become used to living in squalor and being hunted down like a rat. It didn't mean he enjoyed any of it.

So to see Charlus looking at him with such love while treating him like he was someone precious... He was reminded of his dreams of romance, of being the center of someone's world, the beloved to be protected.

Maybe it should have bothered him that even now he was still waiting for someone else to save him. Mostly he was just dazzled by the love he saw reflected in Charlus' eyes and he couldn't help it that his smile was a bit besotted.

"I'm starving. Would you like to have dinner with me out on the balcony?" Charlus asked.

Draco thought about watching the sun set and the moon rise while sharing a meal with this man that professed to love him. It made him feel powerful and happy at the same time, as though Charlus made him better just by existing. "I would be delighted. Let me just settle Hadrian."

"I'll help you." Charlus' breath was warm against the back of his neck and Draco thought he felt a ghostly impression of a kiss though he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he was happy.