They slept far longer than either had intended. But waking up next to each other, made it feel like they had the best reason in the world to do so. Draco didn't know when he'd gotten up, cleaned them up, and put on fresh PJ's himself, but he had. He'd apparently crawled back into bed and used Harry as a body-length pillow. With missing glasses and tousled hair, Harry seemed in no hurry to speak when he took in the long limbs holding him hostage. His wakefulness was of a better quality than before and both realized why. They'd slept through the whole day. The sun was setting. Burnt orange colored their bedroom walls and cast long shadows across their sheets. They snuggled closer.
Draco's eyes flew open. It hit him that Jipsy and Iece were running the flat. His body jerked to respond, but Harry gripped his arm and locked on. "They're okay. We can trust Jipsy. Let her do her job."
Easy for him to say. He hadn't seen the finger pudding paint. Jipsy was great, but an elf couldn't be expected to always see things the way human adults did. Still, when Harry began rubbing his arm, he considered that now was as good a time as any to leave Jipsy to make the wisest choices she could make.
Cuddling led to talking. Talking led to confessions. By the time the sun went down, Draco knew about the assassin, Tally Dellaway, the CIUM's job offer to Harry, and the reason for Harry's arrest. At the precise moment when he should've told Harry about meeting with his parents, he decided not to say anything. Harry was opening up. He wasn't going to ruin that. Not now.
Harry's share was a lot to process, and before he invested himself in grasping all of it, he stuck with the most obvious responses.
"Are you considering a job like that?" He asked because it sounded like Harry had considered it. He tried to keep concern from his voice as he trailed a finger over Harry's nipple.
"It would keep you guys safe. Safer than I can keep you going it alone. I have to consider it."
"No you don't. Not if it's not really what you want to do. We can hire our own security. Before you protest, what's the difference between us signing their check or this CIUM signing their checks? Your number one complaint would be the intrusion on our lives, but I'm telling you, there's a class of security where we'd never see our employees unless we wanted to. They're not going to be flanking your daughter on her first day of school, but they will have enough access to put themselves between her and any danger. She'll never know they're there."
"That doesn't make things any better."
"We can start her out with the vague truth. Daddy has bodyguards around you because bad things happen. We never mention it again. She grows up never seeing them. And on the off chance that she does, we can remind her that she was told and every attempt was made to give her the freedom to come and go without feeling spied upon."
Harry's silence made him think Harry was seriously considering it, until he said, "I want to dye Iece's hair. Cut it and dye it."
When Draco realized what he'd just heard, his first instinct was to regret not showing Harry his parent's video asking for visitation rights. If Harry was just going to ruin this evening anyway, why hold back?
Harry explained, in the wake of Draco's silence, "For her safety. That color is so recognizable. The press will follow her."
Harry might as well have said, "I just wish she wasn't so Malfoyish."
Draco considered his options. Play dumb and there will be no argument. Point out the flaw in Harry's plan, and there will be an epic argument.
"We could spell it. Permanently. She might be old enough for that to be safe now."
Draco tried to go around, tripping over the real issue. "Don't be ashamed of her hair. No cosmetic spell is permanent."
"Then we'll maintain it until she's old enough to."
"What if she doesn't want to?"
"We'll convince her."
"Before or after we tell her about the secret service men following her?"
"I'm serious." Harry sounded annoyed. "Everyone knows who she is by her hair."
"Harry, nobody cares about her hair. They're interested because she's our daughter. And as far as they know, your only vulnerability. No matter what color you dye her hair, that will be who the crowd is looking for. Don't put her through that."
He felt Harry's bicep tense against him.
"You sound like it's abuse or something. People dye their hair like changing their clothes. It won't be a big deal and it's the most obvious thing we should do."
Draco let his chin rub Harry's shoulder, hoping it would soften the blow. "It's not what you tell her. It's what you don't tell her. No other little girls have their fathers dyeing their hair. She'll pick up an unspoken vibe that you think there's something wrong with her. That you're ashamed of her. You're her father, she'll believe it."
"I wouldn't make her feel that way."
"You wouldn't know that you're doing it."
"She'll be safer. Less recognizable."
"Until the first time we're photographed with her."
"I know, but something like black is more common. If she's ever away from us, she'll be less of a target. We might as well start now."
"All we'd be doing is advertising our paranoia. What excuse would we give for permanently changing a child's appearance?"
"It's for her safety." Harry sounded like he might've been close to tears. "I don't have a problem shoving that into anyone's face who asks."
"Harry, it's not just appearance. Her hair is expressing her magic. Haven't you ever heard of that?"
"No."
Draco sat up. The honeymoon appeared to be quite over. "It's a thing. It's hereditary. At the risk of being accused of racism, again, magic can have genetic traits. I didn't say anything about one being better than the other. People don't fucking hear that, all they hear is the Hitler regime. The shit that's allowed to fall out of people's mouths, 'all blacks are good dancers, all jews are good with money, all racially mixed children are beautiful,' yet let it be said that magic is stronger in the families that practice it generation after generation, and people react lke it's fucking 1942. Which, I might add, is exactly the knee-jerk reaction that caused the holocaust in the first place, instead of thinking it through."
"Where is this coming from?"
"I have to defend her. You want to cover her up, make her fit in. You say it's safety, but it's embarrassment. She's living proof of bloodline magic and people are quick to take issue with that."
"Which is why I'm changing her hair to protect her. It's not shame."
"My mother says the combination of her hair and her eyes show a strain of magic that she's never seen before. The Weasley's owe their red hair to more than biology."
"Will you stop talking to your mother about her?"
"I have no one else to talk to. No one as knowledgeable about the potential of her magic. You can't hide her hair with a spell, not for long. You'd be better off using muggle dye, but she's only two and I won't stand for you using those poisons on her, so rethink it."
"There's got to be safe, gentle dyes that are healthy to use. Natural." He bet Snape could've come up with something.
"Good luck getting her magic to enjoy being hidden. It could distress her in ways that she's unable to tell us."
"We'll just have to watch for a reaction."
"I'll just have to stay with her, to make sure she's told how perfect and wonderful she is every day, instead of being made to feel her real appearance isn't acceptable."
Harry gave him a nasty look. "How can you say that to me?" Especially after today, his tone implied.
Draco propped himself on his elbow. "I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear. I'm going to tell you what's really going on, and that's why you keep me in your life. No matter what your intentions are, that's the only thing your daughter is going to think when she gets tired of dyeing her hair. She's going to be afraid to be herself, for fear of displeasing you. And you know I'm right."
"You're underestimating her intelligence. I can get her to understand."
"And you're overestimating her confidence. She's two. The way her Dad looks at her, is everything."
Harry's lips tightened on his argument, but no words came. Only tears. There was no greater proof that he also thought Draco was right. At the sight of watching him, unable to speak through his pain, Draco let his own tears show. He did it to let Harry know that he wasn't the only one afraid that their daughter might pay for their sins.
Harry's voice was hoarse as he wiped his face. "Can't we try it? Just for a little while. See if anything good comes from it. It's too easy to pick her out of a crowd, whether I'm holding her or you are. It might be stupid. It might be useless. But don't think badly of me because I need to do this. I'm not ashamed of her. I'm not."
Of course he couldn't deny Harry the right to hide his treasure from harm. He hadn't realized the pent up emotions that now wracked Harry's body and shook the bed. He thought that anyone who could shatter a mirror in the faces of his parents, the way Harry did, wasn't holding back anything. But when Harry couldn't get himself under control, he knew better. He suddenly felt very selfish for wanting to rush Harry through his pain. The instinct was to make himself feel better. He changed his mind, sidled closer to Harry, and held him through the worst of his shudders.
It was Draco's idea to consult a potion-maker or a chemist. "We use too many spells on her as it is. Let's look for a gentler, natural alternative before messing with her magic."
It was Harry's idea to call in Hermione to help with "beauty stuff."
Hermione, who had never dyed her hair and barely wore make-up, decided that Ginny's expertise was needed. Ginny considered the adult chemicals she risked on her own hair versus the feather tenderness of Iece's baby scalp, and brought Luna Lovegood on board for a gentler perspective.
Before it was all said and done, the six of them huddled around Hermione's kitchen while Ginny played with Iece and Luna mixed an assortment of fruit derived powders. No one seemed surprised when she announced that was how she made her own make-up. The hair dye she'd come up with, was experimental, but so far, her cockatoo had no side-effects when she'd brushed the powder blue concoction onto his feathers. Ron sat in for the entertainment, grinning over a tub of ice cream.
Draco insisted that he sit in a chair behind Iece, not in front of her. "Don't let her see that."
"See what? Ice cream? Want some, mate?"
"Sshhhh!"
Neither of them saw Harry furiously shaking his head from the corner where he sipped his tea.
"Is cweeem!" Iece squealed. Luna let out a scream, embarrassing herself as well as everyone else. They'd all heard the pop, but no one was ready to believe it.
Harry rushed forward. "Sorry, I should've warned you. That's a tricky word around her. We don't say it."
"Oh my goodness!" Hermione covered her mouth in shock, stifling her laughter. She asked Luna, "Are you okay?"
"I think so." Luna blushed. "Startled more than anything."
Ginny looked at Harry. "Did she just do what I think she did?"
"I'm afraid so. Sorry, Luna. Ron, don't say what you just said."
"What, ice cream? It's bloody good."
"Is cweeem!"
This time, Luna, who'd returned to touching Iece's hair, didn't scream. But her petulant expression took on added strain as she looked at Harry accusingly. "Quite the little shocker you have here." She managed a genuine smile and Harry exaggerated the word 'sorry,' which he was now too embarrassed to speak.
Laughter erupted in the kitchen. Even Draco, arms folded defensively as he kept an eye on what they were subjecting the baby to, took extra delight in laughing at the reveal.
Ron asked from his stool, "Would someone please tell me what's going on?"
Hermione threw her dish towel at him. "She's shocking Luna! Ron, move closer so you can see this. You can even hear it if you'd shut up."
Luna announced. "I don't want to be the guinea pig anymore. It's not as fun as it looks." She rubbed her arm. Harry took her by the shoulders and gently stirred himself in front of his daughter.
"Well, she's started now, so I guess I can't make it any worse. Do you want to show Uncle Ron what you can do?"
Iece nodded, mimicking Harry. Her patent leather sandals kicked in agreement. The chair she sat on had been modified by Hermione into a high chair and she was currently imprisoned beneath Luna's ministrations. An assortment of jars, foil, brushes and powders covered the table around her. Ginny, designated the official distracter of tiny fingers that wanted to touch everything in front of them, had been her only ally.
Harry held his arm to her. "Ice cream."
"Is cweeem!" she shouted, poking him with her pudgey index finger. So much zeal went into pleasing her Daddy, that those closest saw a blue spark leave the place where she'd touched Harry's arm. All of them heard it. All of them saw Harry retract his arm and rub at the spot.
He turned to Ron. "And that is why we do not say that word around her,"
Comprehension widened Ron's eyes. "She can shock you? Are you bloody kidding me? How'd you teach her that?"
Draco answered for him. "We didn't. Our new house elf says its standard self-defense these days, although not a common ability in children so young."
"Defense? How does a baby know to defend itself?"
When no one had an answer, Hermione spelled it out for them. "She doesn't. It's very clever, really, unless of course you inadvertently teach her to associate shocks with ice – you know what I mean. Under normal circumstances, she could get an unsuspecting person to take their hands off of her. I think, with a little more training, you could get her to shock anyone who isn't familiar and safe to her. Perhaps that's what your elf was going for."
Ginny was still laughing, but Hermione's practical approach put a knot in Harry's chest. It was too close to home. Luna peeped around Harry. "Is it safe to touch her now?"
Iece twisted in her high chair and pointed at Ron's spoon as it approached his mouth. "Is cweeem?"
Harry and Draco looked at Luna and both said, "No."
Before they could proceed, Iece was given her favorite dessert. As long as no one said the words, the shocks stopped and Luna was allowed close enough to test the dye and take scissors to the baby's hair.
Draco watched darkly, as tufts fell on Hermione's kitchen floor. Harry caught his eye and he replaced his glare with something more patient.
Luna used a toddler's toothbrush to color layers of the baby's hair. Harry and Draco had agreed upon a a brunette that wasn't so dark as to look unnatural against Iece's complexion. As they watched the transformation, it was clear that they should've gone with a light brown or a sandy mixture. Fresh, bluntly clipped ends around his baby's face, looked jet black. It'd been his idea to cut it into a boyish length. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The farthest from her natural appearance he could get her, the more control he anticipated having. But by the time Luna was done, and Iece's head bobbed with sleepiness from sitting too long, she looked like a two year-old wearing a black toupee. No one counted on her hair being so thick that it stood on her scalp. Without the long wisps of tresses to camouflage it, now they could see how dense her hair really was. Paleness had created the illusion that it was thin, but it was actually unruly and didn't want to lay down now that it was short.
"Oh my," Luna gasped. "She has Harry's hair, at least in texture. Who knew?"
They all seemed to find amusement in that discovery. When Luna could do no more and it wasn't looking any better, she kissed the sleeping child and told Harry. "Other than the shocks, she's been really good. Someone deserves a happy meal to go with their… frozen treats. You can't get most children to sit still for this long."
Harry thanked her.
"No problem. I'm sorry it doesn't look better, but now you know that for yourself."
"You did great, Luna. It's going to take more than a bad haircut to ruin that beauty for me." He didn't realize he'd insulted her efforts until he'd said it. "I didn't mean it like that."
"No, I agree." She'd started to clean up her bottles and powders while Hermione swept the hair off the floor. "Now we know never to cut her hair again until her head grows into it. She looks quite monstrous."
Harry was reminded who he was talking to, and found humor in her bluntness. He laughed, but Draco had heard enough. He freed his daughter, glared at Luna, and took her out of the room.
Luna added, "Just notice how long the dye stays in, and that way we can go with a different color as it grows back. If you're gentle, you should get a week's worth of washings without it fading very much."
The kitchen had cleared of most everyone already. She and Harry joined them in the living room for a quick drink before going their separate ways. He was able to talk Draco into hanging around. Hermione ganged up with him.
"Will you put her down! Let her sleep it off and have a drink with us. She's tired. Lay her on my bed and be social for twenty more minutes at least."
For Harry's sake, he didn't argue, but kept pointing at his watch between pointless commentary offered by Luna, and stale jokes offered by Ron. Thirty minutes later, their departure was then acceptable without causing offense. It was Luna who jumped up before Draco could beat her to it. "I'll grab the baby for you. I want one more kiss."
Draco sighed in defeat. He just wanted to go home and forget they'd ever done this to a helpless child.
Luna's scream startled everyone.
Led by Harry, they all bottle-necked into Hermione's narrow hallway. A tangle of elbows and skidding feet, they raced upstairs. Harry took two at a time and Ron fought his way in front of Hermione and Draco, his hand on his wand.
Harry was the first to round the corner, stopping short when he saw the open door to Hermione's bedroom. Draco flew past him, not waiting to make sense of what he saw. Ron and the others waited beside Harry, immediately as confused as he was. Inside the room, Luna knelt by the bed and let the child use her fingers to pull herself up. She looked at Harry with an obvious embarrassment for screaming again, that she didn't have to explain. Another shock, her delicate smile seemed to say. Only this time, it hadn't come from Iece's touch. It came from her hair.
Draco picked her up and held her to his chest. "Diddee," she sang sleepily and closed her eyes against his shoulder. His stare dared all of them to say something inappropriate. Anything. Rather than risk it, no one said a word.
It was Harry they gave a wide birth to, as he made his way into the room. Confused, horrified, and mesmerized by what he saw, he touched his daughters bright white hair and traced it from her temple to her bottom, cradled by Draco's forearm. They looked at one another. They looked at their friends. They looked at all that hair having grown back with ten times it's ability to reflect light, than before. Iece's hair hadn't just grown back, three times it's former length, it was glowing. It was giving off subtle light.
Without understanding why he needed to, Harry tickled her cheek and made her open her eyes. By then, his friends had found the courage to enter the room. All of them gasped.
What scared Harry the most, wasn't her hair. It was her eyes. His baby had only ever shown him luminous dark irises. Now she grinned up at him. Her eyes were grey. Silver-grey, like her true father's.
Hermione was the only one thinking rationally. "Harry! We have to get her to a mediwizard. We've done something. Her magic is having a reaction."
She pulled his arm. "I don't think we can floo with her. I'll drive. Ron, get him." She was referring to Draco, who had locked eyes with Harry and appeared to be in a heated telepathic discussion.
Harry hadn't recovered from the punch to his soul. He saw his daughter taken out of his reach, and lacked the strength to follow. He wanted to. He needed to. He tried to. They held him back.
Later, he would have trouble believing the hysterics they described in him. From inside his body, he could hardly move. What he'd seen, shut his nervous system down. His friends would claim that his screams were so loud, he frightened Hermione's muggle neighbors. They would say they couldn't so much as reason with him to walk to the car. They'd accuse him of bloodying Ron's nose and shoving Luna. They'd side with the muggle officers who tried to restrain him, swearing that he'd fought so hard he had to be subdued by tasers and drug, kicking and shouting, into restraints.
Harry wouldn't recall any of that. If anything, he'd been rendered completely helpless at the sight of his daughter's condition. If anything, he was taking a swing at Lucius Malfoy for daring to possess her and look out through her eyes. No one understood the magic used on him that horrible night. No one understood how deep it went, or how vulnerable it made her. For over two years, he thought he'd outran that terrible night. He thought he was on his way to conquering it. But that very specific color in her eyes, told him that Lucius hadn't gone anywhere. That very drastic reaction with her magic, confirmed that his ordeal with Lucius, was far from over.
This was more serious than a haircut. Those eyes had held him down and stabbed him over and over again, with something far worse than a knife. To see his child wearing those same eyes, meant only one thing. Whatever was wrong with his daughter, he was going to have to go through Lucius Malfoy to fix it.
