"I'm never having any fucking children," grumbles Draco as Maisie continues to giggle at his expense. Quickly letting go of the handle, Draco feels slightly panicked as the baby's wailing gets louder. "Take her," he says as he hands Anaka to Maisie. The girl scrunches her nose, dropping his mask on the ground as she holds the baby with outstretched arms. Then Draco grabs a stick and transfigures it into a dog, hoping to distract the three-year-old from his own cries. "Here," he says, awkwardly shoving the wooden toy into the boy's tiny hands. The boy sniffles as he looks the animal over while the older boy leans in curiously.

"Why'd you make a cow?" asks Maisie, near gagging at the smell of the dirty nappy.

"It's not a cow. It's a dog," says Draco defensively, but then shakes his head with a huff at the realisation he feels affronted by a twelve-year-old girl insulting his artwork.

"I want one," says the other boy, catching Draco off guard, not expecting the boy to ever speak.

"Um –" Draco says, looking around for more sticks. After collecting three suitable ones, Draco transfigures more animalish-shaped objects, and thankfully, the little boys seem amused enough that he can move on to his next task.

The dirty nappy.

"Fuck," Draco rasps as he quickly strips off his outer robe and lies it on a patch of dead grass. "Give her to me," he says resignedly. Maisie gladly hands over the crying baby as he gently places her on the ground. "Salazar, what am I doing," Draco mutters as he attempts to undress the flailing baby. "Fucking hold still," he finally snaps, and of course, the baby begins to cry harder.

"Don't be mean to her," says Maisie in annoyance. "She's just a baby – you're being scary."

"I'm being a twenty-year-old ex-Death Eater turned Order spy turned gover-fucking-ness attempting to change a fucking nappy for the first - and last - time in his life," he grumbles, finally pulling off the baby's clothes. "Oh, fuck —" Draco nearly hurls at the sight of the little monster's shite, now spread all the way into the infant's hair due to his failure to understand how to get the fucking onesie off.

"I don't think you're doing it right," says Maisie, plugging her nose.

"Maisie-" Draco begins, sitting back on his heels and looking over his shoulder at the boys, then at Maisie, then back at the poopy baby. "There is nothing right about this entire scenario," he mutters, attempting to use a cleaning spell. Unfortunately, it only removes the bulk of the mess, still leaving evidence of the horrendous crime. "I don't suppose you are secretly a Muggle-born witch and can pass a Patronus message along?" he says to Maisie, who makes a confused face.

"I don't know what any of that means, Mr Draco," she says, now looking at him like he's a deranged psychopath - which - meh.

Seeing that the shite is now all over his robes where the child lay, Draco figures fuck it and uses a corner of the material as he tries to wipe off the rest of the mess.

"You can't wipe her like that," says Maisie, kneeling beside him.

"Like what? How the fuck else do I fucking clean her?" he says, wondering if there's some kind of weird Muggle way to wipe an arse.

"She's a girl," says Maisie in a swotty voice, and Draco could have sworn her ginger-straight hair turned a muddy brown and frizzed out for a moment. "You don't want her to get an infection, so it's front to back," she says, showing him how.

"There are so many things wrong with what's happening right now," Draco mutters, watching the child lecture him on proper feminine hygiene. "I thought you didn't know anything about babies?" he adds, feeling tricked.

"I don't - but I'm a girl, and my mother told me that-"

"Stop," Draco cuts in. "I- I got it."

Maisie begins to giggle again, seeing his obvious discomfort as he rolls his eyes. Even so, Draco doesn't comment further, and after a few more seconds, they both agree the baby is clean enough. Seeing Anaka has nothing to wear, Draco rips off an unsoiled portion of the robe, transfiguring it into a little sack. Draco pulls the black cloth over Anaka's head as she wiggles around, seeming to protest her new outfit.

"Oh, come on," hisses Draco. "The House Elves will all be jealous of you." Thank fucking Godric, the baby finally calms, and Draco places her on his shoulder once again.

"What's a House Elf?" asks Maisie as Draco eyes his favourite robes, still lying pathetically in the dirt, covered in baby shite. RIP.

"Uh- they're these really annoying-"

"I have to wee," comes the voice of the five-year-old.

"Okay," says Draco, not understanding why the child needs to state it. But the boy just sits there, making no effort to get out of the wagon. "Do you need help?" he asks hesitantly.

"No," says the boy. Draco looks to Maisie, and she seems equally perplexed, but then the child finally climbs out of the wagon, turns around, pulls down his trousers, and pees right on the path.

"Right," says Draco. "Do you need to wee?" he asks the three-year-old. The little boy nods 'no.' "Okay, well-"

"The wagon is wet," says the older boy, looking into the wagon as he pulls up his trousers.

"Of course it is," sighs Draco. He puts Anaka on his hip, moves over to the wagon and then manages to lift the toddler out with his other arm, setting him on the ground. Then waving his hand, he vanishes the pee in the wagon and on the boy's trousers before picking him up and setting him back in the wagon. "Do you need to go?" he practically barks at Maisie a few seconds later.

"Not right now," she sasses back. "Do you need to go?"

Draco glares at Maisie as he hands her the baby and walks behind a tree to take a piss. "Since I'm already here, might as well try!" he yells, feeling like he's losing his mind. It's been over an hour, and he's pretty sure he can still see the fucking shack he found them in.

Finally, everyone is settled as they continue walking in silence.

Maisie continues to run her hand over the mask, looking at it curiously, and Draco feels like an arse for snapping at the girl, remembering her fucking parents were just murdered. And here he is, whinging because he's on babysitting duty. It's odd that the children aren't more distraught, and he wonders how terrible the camp was that they could be so resigned and accept everything happening to them. Thinking of Paul, Draco feels a weight drop in his stomach, wondering if he and Maisie had been violated like the not-dead Weasley twin implied.

"How are you?" Draco says in the most awkward and stilted voice.

"You're terrible at this," Maisie laughs and seeing her amusement in his lack of grace causes him to smile. "I'm - alright?" she says, cocking her head at him but then looks down, frowning. "I feel guilty," she says softly.

"Guilty?" he echoes.

"I feel guilty because I- I'm relieved my mother died," she sighs. "My father was killed before we even were taken to the camp. He tried to stop the-" She holds up the mask. "None of us knew that there were people with magical wands and stuff. That was a few months ago."

Draco pauses his trek and sees Maisie wiping a few tears.

"My mother was so ill; she couldn't work anymore and was in so much pain. I think she got an infection from when -" She lets out a soft sob. "They c-cut off her h-hand when she stole extra food for an old woman. They killed her when she couldn't work anymore. That's when Mr Percy sent me -well- you know the rest now."

"I'm sorry," says Draco, knowing it's a shitty thing to say and means nothing coming from him.

Maisie shrugs. "Me too."

...

Forty Minutes Later

"What the fuck? Why are you upset?" Draco says in exasperation, checking the baby and seeing she's still clean. Anaka's wailing had started again, and fearing losing his shirt, he immediately held the baby at arm's length, inspecting her mini-Death Eater garb.

"She's probably hungry," says Maisie with a shrug. "I think her mum died in the camp after giving birth, so her father had to steal the goat's milk to feed her. That's why he got killed," she says, looking at the ground.

Draco places Anaka over his shoulder and pats her back, trying to guess what might soothe the child. "We'll never make it at this rate," he says, looking back at the boys in the wagon and then at Maisie.

All the children look severely underweight, and it's evident Maisie is exhausted, with hours of walking still ahead of them. It makes sense why the children haven't asked for food, given they probably rarely eat, making Draco wonder how many labour camps exist and how many people - how many children - are still suffering.

Feeling like an evil bastard, Draco puts a silencing charm on the baby, as the sound of her crying immediately stops. The feeling of the tiny bundle still shaking with cries clenches something in his gut, but the fear of someone hearing the sound outweighs his guilt, knowing that there could be other Death Eaters scouting the path, given his "absence."

"We'll walk until we can find a safe place to rest. Hopefully, my – uh -friend will be back soon, and we can get some supplies," says Draco, hoping that Weasley will know where to find them.

Maisie nods, and they continue to walk for another thirty minutes, with Draco feeling regret over the fact he can't perform a Patronus Charm and call for fucking help.

"Oh!" cries Maisie. Draco turns his head to see the girl fly forward as her ankle awkwardly bends from her foot getting caught in a root. She quietly pushes herself into a seated position and draws her legs in. It's clear she's in a lot of pain and trying not to show it as she quickly wipes the tears from her face. "I'm fine," she winces.

Draco lets go of the wagon again and kneels, Anaka still silently crying on his shoulder. "Let me look," he says, gently pushing up the hem of her trousers and seeing the swelling. "Fuck," he rasps.

"I'm sorry," she cries.

"No—" Draco says quickly. "I'm not mad at you, Maisie. I'm mad at the Order for once again not thinking things through," he huffs. "None of you are in any condition to travel like this. There's got to be-"

"Malfoy," comes a familiar voice, causing Draco to freeze. Looking up, he can see Weasley's ugly dog floating in front of him. "Just finished the meeting. I'm outside the manor wards now. I managed to keep Voldy off your back – but you need to get off the path. He's sending Dolohov and me to scope the area now."

Maisie's eyes widen in fear as Draco Occludes, not having time to try and console anyone. He takes Anaka and awkwardly stuffs her into his shirt and uses a fucking sticking charm so she stays affixed to his chest. Then he moves to the boys, where he immediately silences them as he vanishes the wagon beneath their bums and scoops each onto a hip, both boys clutching their wooden toys with wide eyes.

"Climb on my back," says Draco in a strained voice as he bends down. Maisie pulls herself up and wraps her arms over his shoulders as she hangs on. Then, feeling the weight of all the children, Draco ignores the burning in his muscles as he quickly moves off the path deeper into the woods, away from the river.

The Occlusion helps Draco ignore the pain and panic within his body as he deftly moves through the dense foliage, dodging branches, rocks, and every other hindrance in his path. After what feels like an eternity, he spots a large tree with a spacious hollow. He quickly moves until standing right before the opening, collapsing onto his knees as Maisie lets go of his back.

"In here," Draco pants. Maisie hobbles from behind to help take the smaller boy from his aching arm and grabs the older boy's hand as she guides them into the hiding spot.

Thankfully, Anaka seems to have cried herself to sleep, and Draco carefully undoes the sticking charm as he pulls her out of his shirt and cradles her into his arm, about to climb into the tight space as well. The sound of a distant apparition has him freeze momentarily, yet not wanting to scare the children, Draco calmly lies the baby on a small pile of leaves and edges out of the hollow.

"Maisie, stay here," he whispers.

"Where are you going?" she says in a panic.

"I'm going to keep you safe. I promise."

Maisie watches with wide eyes as he pulls up his hood and puts his mask on before bringing a finger to where his lips should be. "Shhh."

Drawing his wand, Draco moves away from the hollow and casts a spell to see how close the person who apparated is. He ducks behind another tree when he hears footsteps approaching closer and closer. Heart pounding, Draco decides to wait until the person is close enough to attack.

"Malfoy," he hears the familiar voice call out.

"Fucking, Salazar," sighs Draco as he steps into view to see Charlie stepping over a log. "You fucking piece of shit," he adds in relief, shaking his head and lowering his wand. "I thought you were a Death Eater. Your brother is supposed to be in the area with Dolohov."

"Yeah, sorry. I would have sent a Patronus, but I didn't want to risk it being seen," Charlie says, looking around. "Where are the children?"

"I've got them hiding in a hollow – they're fucking terrified. There's no way they'll make it to the port without magic," Draco says, leading Charlie to the hiding spot. "How did you find us?" he asks.

"I figured you wouldn't have made it very far, so I just estimated a general area of where you'd be – and knew Ron had warned you to get off the path, so–"

"Dumb luck?" questions Draco with a raised brow.

Charlie grins, but his grin slips off when he looks into the hollow and sees the terrified children. "Fuck, Malfoy," he sighs. "What did you do to them?"

"What did I do?" Draco says, offended. "I fucking carried every single one of them here, near collapsing and –" he pauses. "You're taking the piss," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face as Charlie smirks at him before ducking into the hollow.

"That looks painful," says Charlie, pulling out his wand. "May I?" he asks, and Maisie nods, now holding a crying Anaka – still under the silencing charm. He quickly casts a spell, and Maisie gasps before smiling widely and moving her foot around.

"That's amazing!" she says with wide eyes. "You look different," she adds, watching Charlie curiously.

"Oh, that was my brother Ron. My name is Charlie- we're Mr Percy's younger brothers. And I'm his friend too," he says cocking his head towards Draco. Then he turns to the boys. "Those are some fun-looking toys," he chuckles, causing the boys to smile. Charlie stands back up and turns to Draco. "We might be able to apparate them one by one to the Lake District," he whispers, still smiling at the children. "But it will take time making small hops and giving them time to recover in between."

"What other choice do we have," says Draco. "They're in no condition to travel on foot like this. I'm surprised one of them doesn't keel over – look at them."

Charlie shakes his head in understanding and scratches his jaw. "Stay here, and I'll take the baby first – she'll take the longest. Once she's safe, I'll gather a few more Order members to take the others – you'll need to appear at the manor at some point so you can gather more food before you return to the safe house." Draco shakes his head in agreement as Charlie reaches out for the baby.

"I'm going to send some friends for you, alright?" he says, looking into the hollow. The children all nod as he holds the baby to his chest. "Once they're all moved, you'll need to try and bury the disapparitions with other spells so we can't be followed."

"Right, yeah," says Draco as he eyes Charlie preparing himself to apparate with Anaka. There's an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, remembering how he'd splinched Paul. But he shakes it off, trusting Charlie knows what he's doing.

"Hang tight, little ones," says Charlie. "Draco will take care of you." And with that, Charlie dissapparates.

One Hour Later

"Is it that stick?" asks Draco for the thousandth time, to which the five-year-old shakes his head 'no'. "How about that one?" he asks again, pointing at another.

"No."

"Maisie?" Draco says, quirking a brow. "He says it's something brown, and I've pointed to every fucking brown thing in sight. Help me out here," he pleads. The boy begins to laugh, seeing how terrible Draco is at the new game he's learned called "I Spy."

"Is it the tree we're sitting under?" asks Maisie, who'd been lying on her side and drawing swirls in the dirt with her finger.

"Yes!" says the boy excitedly.

"See – you didn't guess everything," laughs Maisie as she pulls herself into a seated position.

Draco leans back, shaking his head as he looks at the younger boy taking a nap. Maisie sits up straight when they hear three more apparitions in the distance.

"It's alright," says Draco, hoping to fucking Godric he's right. Creeping out from the cramped space, Draco casts a heartbeat spell, seeing three glowing lights moving towards them. He quickly moves to the other side of the tree, pulling out his wand, just in case. "What the fuck?" he mutters, when he sees Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini approaching, followed by a witch he vaguely recognises as Daphne Greengrass' annoying little sister.

"We come in peace," comes Theo's voice. "Charlie sent us to help you – thought you might feel better with some familiar faces."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," says Draco, stepping into view, knowing Pansy had joined the Order right after the Battle. And given Theo and Blaise weren't Death Eaters, he figured they followed suit. Nodding to Theo, Draco finds himself unable to look Blaise in the eyes. "They're in there," he says, pointing into the hollow.

Theo slowly approaches and quickly looks in as he motions for the young witch to move to his side. "I'm Theo, and this is Astoria. And that handsome bloke over there is Blaise. We've come to take you to where Charlie took the baby. She's safe now."

"Is she still crying?" asks Maisie worriedly.

"Charlie said she's very happy now – getting the food she needs," smiles Astoria. "You can come out. Charlie's brother told us the bad people are very far away."

Draco takes a few steps back to allow more space for the children to exit the hollow, noticing Blaise staring daggers at him.

"Look –" starts Draco quietly. But before he can say anything, Blaise pulls his fist back before forcefully punching in an upward motion, connecting right into Draco's jaw. The blow is so precise that he can feel his jaw crack as he stumbles onto his arse, nearly biting his fucking tongue off. The children look stunned as Draco holds his hand over his face, feeling the blood pouring out of his mouth.

"Blaise," snaps Astoria. "The children –"

"Sorry about that, little ones," says Blaise happily. "See, Mr Draco here is a spy, and he's supposed to go back to the bad guys and pretend like he was hurt by the good guys. I volunteered to help him keep his cover," he says in a sweet voice as he looks back at Draco with a raised brow. "And he's also been a bit naughty, so –" he shrugs. "I figured, why not kill two birds with one stone."

Theo huffs as he picks up the smaller boy while Astoria takes the five-year-old.

"Am I supposed to go with him?" asks Maisie, staring at Blaise.

"It's fine, Maisie," says Draco – although his words are nearly intelligible with his swollen tongue. "He won't hurt you."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of him," she smiles. "I think he's cool."

"Salazar," groans Draco as he cradles his arm. Blaise said if he was going to make it convincing, he would also need to have magical injuries. And, knowing the git was correct, still feeling the immense weight of Pansy's death, Draco simply stood before Blaise's wand as he 'helped to keep up the ruse.' Thankfully, Astoria graciously healed his jaw and tongue enough so he can fucking speak and report to Voldemort how pathetic of a Death Eater he is by letting himself be assaulted Muggle style.

Draco watches as his young companions make ready to leave. And again, he feels a strange emotion watching as they dissaparate, no longer in his care. Fortunately, the trio had used Dawdle Draught before arriving, so Draco didn't need to try and cover up their magical trace before apparating to the manor.

"Fuck," Draco groans, leaning against the wall before taking a few steps and falling onto the large bed and passing out.

Draco wakes up with a grimace as he moves his sore body, wiping the drool from his face. Checking the time, he can see that he's slept for nearly two hours, so he reluctantly drags himself out of bed and begins collecting supplies to return to Cumbria. Draco gathers a bunch of his old robes, figuring he can transfigure them into clothes for the children and tosses them into a trunk before apparating to the kitchen.

Once again, Draco stuffs a sack of apples, bread, and a few other items to be added to the trunk. Then, after nearly filling it to the brim, he gets another idea of what essentials might be needed. He quickly apparates with the trunk to his childhood bedroom and throws in some random books and toys. Finally, Draco grabs his stuffed snake, about to toss it in, but he decides to hold onto it a bit longer for whatever reason. After shrinking down the trunk, he apparates to the bottom of the – definitely a mountain today – and treks towards the bothy, wincing with each step and trying - and failing - to come up with the right words to say to Blaise. But, even in the midst of deep regret, Draco smiles when he enters the safe house, seeing Paul calmly drawing at the table. The room is oddly quiet, and he can see Maisie and the two boys sound asleep on the camp beds he'd transfigured.

"Where's Molly," whispers Draco. Paul finally looks up and smiles widely.

"Oh, she's out back – the adults are talking – dunno what about," he says as he returns to his artwork.

Draco ignores the dread in his gut as he enlarges the trunk, trying not to think about all the horrible things that could have the adults talking. "I've brought some things," he says, waving Paul over. "It's rather boring here, I imagine –" he gestures to the toys. "Pick what you like –" he looks at the other children. "Before they wake up," he smirks.

Paul smiles as he rummages around, and Draco feels a wave of unexpected emotion when the boy finds the food, hungrily eats the bread, and picks only one small figure of a Quidditch player on a broom. "Cool," he says with a mouthful, returning to his seat.

"You don't want anything else?" Draco asks.

"I don't need much," Paul says simply. "I really like to draw. I'm going to draw this," he says, holding the figure. Draco gives a sad smile, knowing when he was eleven, he would have hoarded everything in the trunk for himself.

"I'm going to find Molly," Draco says softly. Paul gives a happy wave, and Draco quickly exits the structure and walks around the other side. "What's going on?" he asks warily, seeing Molly softly rocking the baby, asleep in her arms, while Charlie and Ron stand nearby.

"We're trying to figure out how to proceed," says Ron. "I was able to cover for you this time – but – we can't have you missing any more meetings and put us both at risk. Voldy mentioned you being redirected if it happens again for - er- being weak."

"I wouldn't expect any different," sighs Draco. "So, does this mean I'm off babysitting duty?" Draco asks, not mockingly but genuinely wanting to know what they expect him to do since he won't be running through the woods with children sprouting off all his limbs anymore.

Shame.

"On the contrary –" says Charlie, and Draco nearly groans. "You were right about the children travelling. It's dangerous, and as Percy can send more out, their conditions will only worsen. We've already got Snape and Hermione working on the Dawdle Draught, so you two can simply apparate them without leaving a trace. Mum wants to turn this into a safe house for the children to be healed and rested before moving them."

"But we're nowhere near Bristol now," says Draco in confusion.

"We plan to use a Portkey to Dublin. Snape and Hermione are working on it now," says Ron.

"When will it be ready?" asks Draco.

"It's hard to say – they've been trying to master the Portus spell for a while and have come close, but -" he sighs. "For now – we'll just keep bringing the children here."

Draco makes a face in confusion. "Have you seen here?" he asks. "We can't fit any more people, let alone tend to injuries and malnourishment. We've got barely any supplies –"

"Right, so we'll enlarge the safe house and send more supplies," says Charlie.

"If you use an extension charm on his stone piece of shite, you're just asking for the Death Eaters to find you," says Draco tiredly.

"Not necessarily," chimes Molly. "We could go underground. Keep the bothy a – piece of shite – and build a proper safe house underneath. The elements in the earth will obscure the charms – and we can also simply – dig."

"Dig?" echoes Ron.

"Yes – build a safe house the Muggle way," Molly says confidently.

"And risk the thing collapsing? We're wizards," huffs Ron. "We don't know the first thing about Muggle engineering."

"Then find some Muggle builders," says Draco with a shrug as all three Weasleys look at him. "I mean – the only reason the Order is still fucking around Britain is that you're mostly Gryffindors and don't want to abandon the Muggles. Why not just fucking include them? I think we're well past giving a fuck about the Statute of Secrecy. Why not find people that know how to do it and bring them here? Didn't the Muggles have a bunch of wars and shite before? I assume they could build something decent enough, and we can use some magic too."

Molly gives Draco a crooked grin as she pats Anaka's back. "I knew there was a reason I didn't kill you."

Draco sits at the long table, feeling like shite and looking like shite as the Team Leads give their reports. Thankfully, with the Weasel Rosier's testimony of Draco getting into a skirmish with the Order and being injured, the fallout of his previous absence hasn't given away his new allegiance, and they can live to spy another day.

"Your return is most welcome, Death Eater Malfoy," hisses Voldemort. "Death Eater Rosier tells me that you were greatly outnumbered when the Order showed up near your patrol. He also says you pushed him out of the way of a nasty hex."

"Yes, my Lord. After my last redirection, when I failed to provide proper backup – I knew I needed to step up and support my Team Lead. In the end, we managed to kill three of them before they retreated," says Draco, repeating what Ron had told him he'd spouted off the previous meeting.

"I see," says Voldemort. "Death Eater Feig, see to it you heal Death Eater Malfoy properly after we are done here."

Draco looks over to see the older Death Eater simply give a nod.

"Who healed your tongue?" says the older wizard, looking at the readings of his diagnostic spell. "I can see there was a spell used for a laceration –" he continues to move his wand over Draco's face. "And your jaw had been shattered?" Death Eater Feig tuts, shaking his head. "The Order are savages, resorting to Muggle means of combat."

"Rosier attempted to heal me after I was caught off guard. I used Expelliarmus on my opponent and, in my naivety, assumed them to be an easy target without their wand. I got too close, and they assaulted me with their fist."

"Hmm," says Death Eater Feig as he waves his wand over the top of Draco's head. "No concussion, given the location of the assault, but–" he furrows his brow. "Oh, my–" Feig says as he backs up. "Are you an Occlumens by chance?" he asks, and judging by his tone, Draco knows the damned wizard already knows the answer.

"Yes," Draco says flatly.

"How often do you Occlude?"

"Since I was a boy – I found it was easier than –"

"Managing your thoughts and feeling on your own?" finishes Feig with a laugh. "Many soldiers develop certain levels of Occlumency – to manage the high level of threat and stress."

"And I'm a soldier," says Draco, wondering what the wizard was getting at. "Is there a problem?" he adds.

"You said you've been using the skill since you were a boy? I've not studied it extensively, but – when a brain is still developing, heavy Occlusion can cause permanent brain damage. Have you been having any pain in your head? Before the recent skirmish, that is."

"No," says Draco as he stands, grabbing his shirt and redressing - the evidence of Blaise's hexes now gone. "Thank you for your time," he adds curtly, moving towards the door.

"If you find that you do," says Feig, unbothered by Draco's curtness. "Experience frequent headaches, I mean - you know where to find me."

Draco apparates to his childhood room, where he finds Ron lying on his bed, getting his muddy boots all over. "Get the fuck off my bed," snaps Draco.

"Well, hello to you," says Ron sarcastically as he slowly moves off the bed and then holds out his arm. "Shall we, then?" Draco roughly grabs Ron as they apparate directly to Cumbria, where they silently begin the trek up the - it's always a mountain now.

"What happened?" asks Nosy McNosyson.

"Nothing," grunts Draco.

"Right," Ron huffs.

"Apparently, I could have brain damage," he finally blurts after a few awkward minutes. "Feig ran a diagnostic on me and knew I was an Occlumens. I guess the fact I've been Occluding since I was fifteen is a bad thing," he continues, knowing the headaches are becoming more frequent.

"What does that even mean? Brain damage? Fuck," huffs Ron.

"I don't know I– I left without listening to what he had to say. I don't entirely trust his expertise," he says honestly, but the worry still lingers.

"Of course," says Ron shaking his head. "I'll send a Patronus to Snape and have him come take a look."

"Thanks."

Draco sits outside, looking at the night sky as Paul is nearby, drawing under a small candlelight. "...and then he tears off his mask and says he's going to rescue them all, not hurt them. And, of course, he saves the day," says Paul, taking a breath and holding up his picture story thing he's been working on.

"And is the hero based on a young boy that goes by the name of Paul?" questions Draco with a grin.

"No," he says matter of factly. "He's based on you." Paul holds up another picture of 'the hero' and can see he'd drawn an obnoxiously pointy nose on his face. But instead of laughing at Paul's cheekiness, Draco internally cringes.

"Paul – I'm not a hero."

Paul tilts his head. "But – you saved me," he says in confusion. "And Maisie and the others. And you've got magical powers and are teaching me how to use mine. And you gave me this," he adds, pulling out the Quidditch player figurine and handing it to Draco.

"It doesn't make me a good person," he says, feeling the toy in his hand, trying to remember when - if - he ever was good.

"I've done a lot of bad things – terrible things," he says, not really wanting to burden Paul with his past but also not wanting the boy to look up to him.

Like he did his father.

"I think you're a good person," says Paul sitting up.

"Well, you're the first," huffs Draco and for whatever reason, Paul seems satisfied with Draco's concession.

"You're like some of the comics my dad reads - well - not anymore," he says, looking down. But then he brightens up again. "Deadpool was a villain for the X-Men and later became an anti-hero."

"Um, what?"

"He stops being a villain, and because of his past, he's not considered a hero - but he helps people and swears like you. He's called an anti-hero. I stole the comics from my dad and read them."

"So, these X people and Dead-whatever the fuck are in your superhuman's world?"

Paul makes a horrified face. "Oh, no. That is not correct," he huffs. "First, it's X-Men and Deadpool - which is Marvel. And Superman, which is DC - completely different universe, Draco," he scoffs.

"Right," laughs Draco, not having a fucking clue what the boy was saying.

"I'll draw them for you. It won't be exactly like them - but you'll get the idea," says Paul with a determined look as he sticks his tongue out of his sealed lips and begins scratching away at the paper.

"Ready?" he hears Ron's voice come from behind.

"For what?" says Draco. "Did Percy contact you –" he asks, standing to his feet, feeling wholly unprepared to take on another group of children so soon.

"To see Snape," says Ron. "For your–" he points to his head, probably not wanting Paul to hear.

"Oh, I didn't realise – I thought he was coming here," says Draco before turning to Paul.

"He said he'd prefer to uh - not work around the -" Ron cocks his head to the safe house, and Draco huffs, knowing Snape would probably drop dead if he had to stay in a house full of children.

"Go inside, Paul," he says kindly, not wanting the boy to be outside alone. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Paul obediently picks up his papers and unexpectedly hugs Draco before entering the safe house. Ron merely smirks at Draco, who rolls his eyes.

"He's a terrible judge of character," says Draco dismissively.

"So's mum," laughs Ron. "Come on. They're waiting," he says, sticking out his arm.

"Wait. They?" asks Draco as he hesitantly takes Ron's arm.

"Snape and Hermione. We're going to Spinner's End."