Disclaimer: The Harry Potter novels belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers and various other entities that are not me. The vast majority of the characters in this fanfiction are borrowed for my own use but do not belong to me. If they did, I’d be a lot wealthier and wouldn’t be spending my time writing silly stories for free. The only thing I get out of it is a bit of enjoyment and less sleep at night, so don’t sue. Unless you want an ulcer too.
Notes: This fanfiction is told through the eyes of one Draco Malfoy. If you don’t like him and think he should rot in the fiery pits of hell, this is probably not the story for you. But if you, like me, think that no one could really be that evil and want to delve a little deeper into his psyche, then come on down. Also, there will be an original character introduced in here. I took the Mary Sue test and I promise she’s not one but if that sort of thing pisses you off, again, this is not the fic for you.
Dedication: Let me tell you a story, one day I was happily writing the last three chapters of “The Replacements” (which I swear, one day will be finished.) and then I innocently read a bit of fanfiction by w&m_law. Then, the plot bunnies attacked. I complained to her and told her it was all her fault, I had this story in my head and it wouldn’t go away. Instead of being all apologetic she somehow hoodwinked me into writing it. She also put up with my incessant IMs on the topic, let me bounce ideas off her pretty much every night and then gracefully became my beta reader. So I’m starting to think she should get writing credits on this thing!

To Amy, for putting up with me... And if it sucks, it’s all her fault! ::eg::


* *

Draco Malfoy looked up at the towering, imposing form that was his childhood home. Malfoy Manor always seemed like the type of mansion some helpless traveler would come across one dark and stormy night while a brilliant crack of lightning illuminated the sky. He sighed deeply and put his bags down on the ground for the house elves to take care of. The place was as dank and cheerless as ever, but now it felt different somehow. He felt an unexplained gnawing at the back of his head telling him to run -- run like crazy. He had never felt that way before, even though most people who visited the old mansion had.

As he entered, he turned around glancing at all the hallways and staircases. He didn’t exactly have lovely memories of his time there. The last year he had spent roaming aimlessly around Europe had been far more enjoyable. He had started out in London and somehow ended up in Stockholm, Prague, Barcelona, Vienna, and Lisbon to name a few cities. It was part of the freedom being young, reckless, rich and handsome. There was always something new to see, do or spend money on. And there was always a different woman in his bed.

Draco sauntered down the hallway to the sitting room where he knew he would find his mother, Narcissa. He could hear her shouting at the house elves. They really were quite incompetent and couldn’t do anything to Narcissa’s liking. She was standing in the middle of the room while the elves bustled around her. Her long, lean figure was in sharp contrast to the dumpy, little elves. It looked to be the natural order of things. They were, after all, beneath her.

When Narcissa saw Draco appear in the doorway she waved the elves off with a flip of her hand. The corner of her mouth turned slightly up in what, for her, was a large smile.

“Draco,” she gushed.

He strode over to her and kissed her cheek gingerly. “Hello, Mum.”

Draco and his mother had always been very fond of one another. They just didn‘t show it in normal ways. She never hugged him or told him how handsome he was. But when other young men where in her presence she’d turn her nose up at them so they’d know she thought Draco was much finer. Narcissa had the ability to make anyone she thought inferior know it too.

He had learned at a young age not to cross her for she was very formidable woman. And if someone ever crossed him, she would surely take care of it. One couldn’t live with Lucius Malfoy for very long without developing a thick skin and learning a few tricks as to how to take care of troublemakers.

Today, Narcissa looked tired. It struck Draco as odd because in all his nineteen years he had never seen her look tired before. Narcissa was true to her namesake in the way that she was concerned with appearances, not just her own but that of the whole family.

“You look sick, Mum,” he commented.

She tried to force her face into its normal state. “Why do you say that?” The movement was definitely not lost on her son. Usually, when she was sick she demanded that everyone wait on her hand and foot until she was back in perfect health.

“No reason,” he lied not wanting to push her.

With that, the subject was dropped.

“I’m glad you’re home, Draco.” She bustled around the room trying to look busy so she wouldn’t have to look him in the face. It didn’t matter. He knew she meant it. That in and of itself brought the feeling that his home was different now back to the forefront of his mind.

It wasn’t that she usually didn’t miss him. She did. She used to send him heaps of presents while he was at Hogwarts trying to make up for the distance between them. She just didn’t usually say things like “I’m glad you’re home, Draco.” She also rarely tried to look busy. She was rich, after all, and shouldn’t ever have to be busy.

“Mum, what’s going on?” he asked abruptly.

She dropped the book she was straightening up and looked up at him. It was obvious that he already knew something was up and there was no point in lying. “Your father’s friends are here, dear.”

Draco cringed. She meant the Death Eaters. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had been a servant of Lord Voldemort since long before Draco had been born. But he rarely brought them to Malfoy Manor because the majority of them were not as well bred as the Malfoys and they made a horrible mess and because he knew Narcissa didn’t like having them around.

It must be something important for him to allow them to have the run of the place, Draco mused.

He turned to leave. “I’ll go unpack,” he said with his mind still on what she had told him.

“Draco...” Her voice made him stop. He turned around. There was something else she wanted to tell him. “The Dark Lord was here last night.”

He blinked unsure what to make of this new revelation. Voldemort had never set foot in Malfoy Manor before, as far as he knew. This was their home, not Voldemort’s lair. Narcissa sighed. He knew she didn’t like it any better than he did. Of course, she wasn’t on the side of the resistance but she wasn’t a Death Eater either. She wasn’t the type of woman to go out making trouble with Muggles and Mudbloods. She’d just simply refuse to associate with them.

She cut him off before he could ask the millions of questions running through his head. “Supper is at six,” she said trying to pretend everything was as it should be.

He nodded and headed up the stairs thinking about Voldemort and the Death Eaters. What were they doing? When he reached the landing those questions were pushed out of his mind by new ones. There was a rather large Death Eater standing at the end of the hallway. He seemed liked he was guarding something.

Draco knew the room he was standing in front of was an old guest bedroom. But it wasn’t as nice as the ones in the other wing of the house so it was usually reserved for Draco’s friends, which there weren’t very many of. He noticed that the hand carved, wooden door that usually marked the entrance to the room had been replaced by a much thicker, less expensive one. Now, Draco was certain that the Death Eater was guarding something but he couldn’t tell what it was as the new door didn’t have any openings, not even a keyhole or doorknob, which meant it, could only be opened with magic.

The Death Eater saw Draco and scowled, silently telling the boy to move it along quickly. Draco, never one to do what others told him, casually continued on his way to his room, which was at the opposite end of the hall. Before entering his room, he threw one last glance down the hall at the Death Eater. He smiled smugly. He lived here after all; he wasn’t going to let them take control of his own house.

Just to be spiteful, he left the door open.

Draco glanced around his room. It was exactly the same as he had left it. With its high, vaulted ceiling and large four-poster bed, the room did not look like a young boy had lived a great part of his life there. It lacked anything childish or sentimental and all the furniture was polished until it shone. It was almost like a museum or an antique display.

His things were already unpacked by the house elves. He checked around to make sure everything was satisfactory. His mind kept wandering back to the Death Eater in the hallway and whatever he was guarding, so he didn’t think of something that the elves hadn’t done right to complain about at dinner, as was standard procedure.

That night, they ate in silence. Lucius and Narcissa at either end of the ridiculously long table while Draco placed himself squarely in the middle. Draco thought it was a lovely metaphor for their relationship. Narcissa was at one end, Lucius at the other, Draco somewhere in the middle and lots of plates, candles and stuff in between them all. Lucius barely acknowledged Narcissa’s presence throughout the entire meal although he kept shooting fleeting glances at Draco as if there were something he wanted to say.

After dinner, they went into Draco’s father’s study and had tea. They talked about the news, gossip and generally said absolutely nothing that was on their minds. They all carried on as if nothing was any different. That seemed to be the theme for the next few days. There was no mention of the Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort, only business as usual. Narcissa entertained guests, Draco told (appropriate) stories of his holiday and Lucius did whatever it was he did when he was pretending he wasn’t evil.

He even went as far as to invite the Minister of Magic himself over for tea on Monday. Draco heard the Death Eaters snickering outside his door. They all thought Fudge was a complete idiot. Draco had no opinion on the man but couldn’t help but marvel at the size of his father’s balls.

Only once was anything out of the ordinary mentioned. The second night at dinner, Draco excused himself and rose to retire to his room telling his parents he didn’t feel well and wanted to go lay down. His father halted him with a gesture.

“Draco,” he said pompously. “You are not to go near the room at the end of upstairs hall. I am sure you know the one I mean.”

Draco nodded. “Yes, Father.”

When Draco reached his hallway again, this time it was the Death Eater who was smiling smugly at him. Draco barely restrained the urge to stick his tongue out at the man.

* *

Draco had been at home for nearly a week when he started to realize that whether he liked it or not, he was involved with whatever the Death Eaters were doing.

It was a dreary, gray day. He had gone to bed early the night before out of sheer boredom. Instead of finding himself refreshed. Draco woke up with his head pounding and all his muscles aching. He felt like he had a wicked hangover or he had been hit in the head repeatedly.

He slowly ambled out of bed without his usual grace. Somehow he managed to get dressed without any major mishaps. He glanced up at the mirror and found a nearly unrecognizable man staring back at him. His hair was all out of place and wouldn’t stand flat. There were what appeared to be bruises all along his neck. And what were even weirder, scratches running up and down his legs.

“Rough night?” the mirror asked. Draco ignored it.

When he showed up for breakfast, his mother gasped. “Draco!” He grasped his head in pain. Oh, why did she have to talk so loud? His father peered at him from behind the paper. He appeared a bit curious but not at all concerned. Lucius shrugged Draco’s appearance off nonchalantly and returned to his reading.

“Did you go out last night?” Narcissa asked worriedly.

“No,” he answered truthfully not that he would‘ve told her if he had.

Draco was notorious for sneaking out. Narcissa had tried to stop him on a number of occasions but had never managed to catch him in the act. He knew every passage in the house like the back of his hand. Besides, he was sneakier than the average boy his age. It was one of the personality traits he was most proud of.

Lucius threw the paper down on his plate. “I’m off,” he announced as he rose to his feet. Without so much as a look in his wife or son’s direction he disapparated leaving Draco and Narcissa alone at the table.

“He has business with the Minister today,” she explained.

“Oh,” Draco said nonplussed. “Anything good in the paper?” he asked hoping to change the topic away from how bad he looked.

Narcissa shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Draco wondered if that meant there was. It seemed all the Daily Prophet wrote about these days was how close Voldemort was to capture and how the war was almost over. Of course, Voldemort wasn’t any closer to capture than he had been when he rose to power in the first place but they were just trying to keep the masses calm. Draco doubted anyone was stupid enough to believe it.

He made the paper fly into his hand. He unfolded it carefully revealing the front page and a headline that read:

Ministry Official’s Daughter Missing


LONDON - Yesterday, the Ministry of Magic confirmed reports that the only daughter of Arthur Weasley, head of the Ministry’s Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, is missing. Ginny Weasley, 18, disappeared from King’s Cross Station after returning from her final year at Hogwarts last week.

“She was on the train,” says fellow Hogwarts student, Colin Creevey, “I got off with her. Her family just never found her. At first we thought she had gotten lost in the crowd but she just vanished.” Creevey’s testimony supports the theory that the girl was, in fact, kidnapped although the Ministry denies these claims.

“We are greatly saddened by this tragic event,” says a Ministry spokesman, “but wish to assure the public that there is not evidence supporting the rumor that You-Know-Who was involved.” He went on to say that “she probably just got lost and will turn up.”

Weasley and his wife, Molly, have six other children. None of the Weasleys could be reached for comment. Sources close to the family say they are devastated by the loss and are trying to pull together in an effort to find their missing member, still remaining hopeful that she will be returned home soon.

Ginny Weasley is eighteen years old, medium height and build and has very distinctive red hair. She has been missing for six days and is presumed to still be in the area. If anyone has any information on her whereabouts, they are asked to contact the Ministry immediately.

*

Next to the article was a large picture of Ginny. Draco had never paid much attention to the girl while he was at school with her. He only saw her when she was trailing after Harry Potter with a rapt statement on her face. But in the picture, she didn’t look at all like he remembered. She was smiling broadly and looked full of life. She was almost pretty if you liked that girl-next-door look.

While he was examining the photo, a strange image forced itself into his head. It was him in a dark room. He couldn’t see anything but felt passionate kisses on his neck. It was a girl, she was breathing heavily. So was he.

Draco jerked. Narcissa was staring at him. He realized he must have looked very peculiar when he zoned out like that. He shook himself.

“Humph,” Draco snorted. “You’d think they wouldn’t care so much. They have plenty of other kids, what’s it matter if they lost one?” he smirked sarcastically.

His mother dropped her fork to her plate. “Draco,” she admonished sternly.

“What? You don’t like the Weasleys any more than I do.”

“I know...” She looked away and sniffed. He got the impression that she was holding back tears. “I was just thinking how horrible it would be to lose your child.”

Draco sighed. Well, now he felt like an ass. She was probably the only person who could ever make him feel guilty. “Sorry, Mum.”

She smiled weakly. “Forget it.”

* *

Draco returned to his room. He threw himself onto his bed. The Death Eater was still in that same spot, guarding that room. He must be getting tired of standing there, Draco thought. He wondered if his legs were tired and cramping by now. He hadn’t moved since Friday. Of course, Draco had only arrived on Saturday but he was no less certain that the Death Eater had been standing in front of that room since Friday, a little after the Hogwarts Express arrived in London.

He now knew who was occupying that room.

He was surprised at how much the idea bothered him. Voldemort was holding a prisoner at Malfoy Mansion. But why? He shuddered, glad he wasn’t in Ginny Weasley’s shoes. Whatever the Dark Lord held in store for her, he was sure it wouldn’t be pleasant.

He didn’t understand why he felt compelled to go help her -- to rescue her. After all, he hated all the Weasleys and he wasn’t the heroic type. Perhaps it was how sad his mother looked this morning when she had thought of losing him. Or perhaps it was because he knew how horrible it was to be trapped within these walls.

Draco sighed. He really did hate this place. He wanted to leave more than ever. But now, for whatever reason, he couldn’t.

* *

In the days following, Draco tried his damnedest to get in to see Ginny but he never had any luck. Normally he could get into any room in the house without being seen, heard, or leaving any indication that he had been there. This particular week however, he was way off his game. Every morning he woke up more tired and with more scratches and bruises on him than before. He was starting to feel dizzy and would sometimes have trouble standing up. His mother became increasingly concerned about her son, while his father shrugged it off with indifference.

“He will be fine, Narcissa,” Draco overheard his father tell his mother one night before dinner. “It’s almost over...”

Draco started. Did his father know something about why he was sick? Or did he just assume that it was almost over since it had been a few days and he had told them he was starting to feel better? He wasn’t really, he just didn’t want to worry his Mum. Plus, she had threatened to call the doctor and Draco hated the old quack.

One day, Draco was trudging up the stairs to his room. He needed to get some sleep; he was practically falling over on his feet. He had reached the landing and was about to throw his patented sinister glare at the Death Eater when he heard it. From inside the guest room someone screamed. It wasn’t out of fright or pain. They didn’t scare her. It was the low guttural cry of a caged animal. She was frustrated and wanted out.

Draco clutched his head in agony. Why did she have to scream right then when his head was pounding so? He looked up from behind his hands and saw the Death Eater disappear into the room to shut her up. In that brief moment, Draco’s suspicions were confirmed. There was a flash of red when he opened the door, it was unmistakable: Ginny Weasley’s hair. She stood at the threshold, ready and fully expecting him come in.

“Shut up,” the Death Eater commanded her. She only glared at him in response.

Then the door swung shut and Draco was left alone in the hallway with horrendous pain in his head.

Hours later, he still couldn’t get the memory of her standing in the doorway out his head. It was almost as if she had been testing him. Seeing how long it would take for him to come into her room and force her to be quiet. Draco couldn’t get over how different she looked, powerful, courageous and almost beautiful. For someone who had been held prisoner for the last week, she looked in complete control of the situation.

And then there was something else. Every time he thought about it, he got these flashes. They were like bits of a dream he couldn’t remember. There was a voice calling out his name, soft moaning and rustling of bed sheets. He tried to concentrate, to force the fleeting images into his mind but that only served to make them disappear for good. So he shrugged it off and tried to forget about it, but the moment his mind began to wander, there they were. He felt something tickle his chest and nails raking down his legs. Someone was giggling -- a woman. Then more laughter joined hers. It was male. Was it him? He couldn’t tell. He never remembered laughing like that.

Draco wasn’t sure what these odd visions meant. He examined it from every angle. It was possible he was just sleep deprived or that the sickness was making him delusional. But not even the most gullible part of his brain believed that.

It all had to do with a particular image that he couldn’t forget no matter how hard he tried. One morning, he woke up with a start. He looked down and found himself covered in fresh bruises and scratches. Suddenly the images flooded his head again.

The woman was kissing him fiercely. His head was swimming with lust. Her eyes were filled with raw emotion as they always had been in the dreams. Then for one brief second, she looked down at him. The fire was gone. She looked lost and scared.

“Draco, help me,” she pleaded.

Draco lay back on his bed wondering what to do. He had tried to ignore Voldemort and the Death Eaters. But now it was clear to him that he couldn’t ignore them anymore. He knew that they were doing something to him. He knew because the woman in his dreams was Ginny Weasley.

And he wasn’t so sure they were dreams anymore.

* *

The next day, Draco woke up just as weary as the days before. He forced himself out of bed and down to breakfast. The previous evening he had made a decision: he was going to find out what the heck was going on. He didn’t care if it meant breaking every rule his father had ever set for him. He didn’t care if Voldemort himself would be angry with him. Draco didn’t like being used. If he was caught up in their plan then he would be damned if he didn’t know what it was.

His father was absent from breakfast that morning. Narcissa explained that he had business in the city. Draco grinned to himself. How convenient, he thought. That meant that Lucius wouldn’t be around all day and that Draco had the run of the place.

Around lunchtime when Narcissa was in the garden, he slipped into his father’s study undetected. Lucius Malfoy kept his personal journal wrapped in a scrap of Invisibility Cloak behind a painting of Draco’s great, great grandfather. Draco had found it once when he was a boy. He had been looking for money to buy himself a pet dragon. He never had got the dragon, but he did find out that his parents were married because his mother’s family went bankrupt and she didn’t want to lose her position in life. It was in that journal that he had first learned his father was a Death Eater.

Draco was sure that Lucius never found out that he had discovered the journal, and therefore would find no reason to move it. Sure enough, the journal was in exactly the same spot it had been ten years ago. Draco flipped it open to the entry on the Thursday before he arrived.

There, in Lucius’ neat, sloping scrawl were all the answers Draco needed.

The Dark Lord has expressed interest in creating an heir for the sad day when he is no longer around to lead us. (Should his many spells and Dark Magic fail to grant him eternal life.) Unfortunately, because our Master has been so long without a body, he has been rendered unable to create one on his own. I immediately offered him the services of the Malfoy family and he accepted.

Draco scoffed. He supposed in some twisted way, Lucius thought he was doing this for the good of the family. After all, what could bring them more prestige than to have the Dark Lord’s heir be a Malfoy? His father had never bothered to take into consideration Draco’s feelings or anyone else’s, for that matter. He just did what he wanted when he wanted and expected everyone to be pleased with it.

Draco will return home in a week, then he will be used to father the child.

So it was true. Draco hung his head. Up until now he had been holding out some hope. Hope that his father wouldn’t do this to him and hope that he wasn’t really living this nightmare.

When the topic of a suitable mother for the child was raised, I naturally suggested some of the finer bred girls in the area. All of them were rejected by the Dark Lord. In his infinite wisdom, he had decided to select a girl who was not associated with the Cause but rather with the Resistance, as the Aurors would be less likely to kill the child should he ever be found.

The Dark Lord selected Ginny Weasley himself as he remembered her from the Chamber of Secrets...

The leather bound book fell from Draco’s hand. It landed roughly on the marble floor.

Draco was feeling light headed. He reached his hand behind him searching for a chair. Part of him was vindicated, knowing that his hunches were correct. The other part of him was shocked and couldn’t believe it. He buried his head in his hands trying to settle his rattling nerves.

A baby, he thought. He couldn’t get over it. A baby. A tiny, little, innocent baby. His tiny, little, innocent baby.

Things made sense now. Why his father had invited him home for the summer. Why Ginny was kidnapped. Why he had been feeling so tired. Why he had been having those visions. It all pieced together into a horrible, creepy jigsaw puzzle that Voldemort was putting together for the purpose of turning a harmless baby into the most evil creature ever born.

And there was more. Now that he knew, the gates in his mind that had kept his memories bottle up seemed to have sprung a leak.

It was the night he had arrived. He was laying in bed half asleep when he heard commotion outside his door. It sounded like voices. He couldn’t make out what they were saying. He grumbled about the “lousy Death Eaters” taking over his home and tried futilely to return to dreamland.

Suddenly, the door to his room swung open. Draco sat bolt upright in bed. His father stood in the door staring at his son wearing an expression Draco had never seen before.

“Father?” Draco asked. “What’s going on?”

Lucius didn’t answer. The shadows of the night played off his face creating a demonic look. There was darkness in his cold, gray eyes. They were same eyes Draco saw in the mirror but Draco couldn’t see the resemblance anymore. Those little warning bells that had been ringing in Draco’s head since he had arrived were now full blown alarms going off. He wanted to leave. He wanted to say something, to do something -- anything. But he found himself paralyzed, perhaps by fear or perhaps by something else.

His father reached into his robes, searching for his wand. He removed the long, wooden object and pointed it directly at his son’s heart.

Draco finally found his voice. “Father, don’t,” he begged hoarsely not knowing exactly what was about to happen but certain that he wouldn’t like it.
Again, Lucius didn’t respond.

For the first time, it was very clear to Draco that the man who stood before him, the same man who called himself his “father,” would turn him over to Voldemort in a beat of his nonexistent heart. And Draco was afraid. Afraid because he didn’t know what Lucius was about to do to him. But even more than that, it was because every second of his life up until this moment, Draco had strived to be exactly like Lucius Malfoy, a man who would kill him if it would make the Dark Lord happy. And all those years would probably screw him up more than any spell ever could.

“Father, please.” He tried again to appeal to something within his father, something that probably wasn’t there. “Daddy?”

Lucius never spoke. He barely even looked at his son before began to chant something in a language Draco didn’t understand and light gushed from his wand...

* *

That night, Draco was determined to stay up and wait for them to come to him. He wanted to confront them. No matter how much it would cost him, he had to let them know that he didn’t want to be a part of this and that he would never join a group that let people like his father in.

So he lay awake, listening to the sounds in the hallway while pretending to be asleep so they wouldn’t suspect anything. He felt his insides crawl at the thought of what was out there. It wasn’t the Death Eaters or even the Dark Lord. It was the house. The house itself was evil. Little things, like the ticking of the old clock reminded him of where he was and how badly he didn’t want to be there.
But perhaps the worst thing of all was the silence. The silence that echoed throughout the house while he waited. He was ready to burst, ready to jump at every shadow. But the hallway remained still, and no sound ever disturbed the hallway.

No one ever disturbed the hallway.

The dawn came and went. Somehow the sun never seemed to illuminate Malfoy Manor so Draco barely noticed. It was only then when the sun was high in the sky outside his window that he finally admitted to himself that they weren’t coming. They had no need for him anymore. His part was finished.

Then one sound ripped through the stillness. For Draco, it was amplified by the fact that it didn’t belong there. It wasn’t part of the house. And he wasn’t sure if he welcomed it or not.

Down the hall, Ginny was retching.

*

DISCLAIMER: All these characters were thought up in the brilliant mind of JK Rowling and they are owned by a bunch of people who aren’t me. Don’t sue! It’s just a fanfiction!
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Big thanks to everyone who’s helped me out with this especially Amy, Tessie and my DracoGinnyFanFic list. You’re all awesome and you make me want to write. And I love every single person who reviewed. I even had to email some of you personally you touched me so. This is shaping up to be pretty long. I hope you all stick with me throughout the journey. This chapter is in the same vein as the last one, hopefully you won‘t ditch me now. All of this chapter, last chapter and parts of the next chapter were supposed to be chapter one, so they’re all very similar.

* *

Once the shock wore off, Draco went to the library to do some research. The Malfoy family library had extensive volumes on all sorts of magic and spells, particularly Dark Magic. Young Draco had spent hours pouring over them, thinking of ways to torment his enemies. Most of the ideas he had never panned out but it gave him a great sense of superiority to know that he could do a spell that made everything you ate taste like cod liver oil.

He had never before gone into the library looking for a book on something other than magic. There was a first time for everything, he supposed. He knew what book he was looking for. He had found it once when looking for a spell that impregnated someone with demon spawn (one of those ideas that had never panned out).

Apparently, his mother purchased it when she found out she was pregnant with him. She was an only child and her mother had died just after Lucius and she were married. The neighbors still spread gossip about Lucius having killed his own mother-in-law. Anyhow, she hadn’t known what to expect when she was expecting so she bought this book. It was one of those guidebooks that explained having babies to dummies. Draco hated to admit it, but he definitely fell into that category.

Draco quickly located the book, which seemed thicker and filled with more words he didn’t understand than the last time he looked at it. He trudged up the stairs to his room with it in his hands. A tag team of bigger, meaner looking ones had replaced the single Death Eater. Draco sighed. He really wanted to get in there and talk to Ginny but he didn’t see how it was possible.

He was still pretending that he didn’t know the Dark Lord’s plan. He tried to conceal the book from the Death Eaters as he marched to his room. He wasn’t sure they were bright enough to have mastered reading but one could never be too careful. He didn’t know what Voldemort would do if he found out that Draco knew his plan. Would they do something to him? Or worse, do something to Ginny and the baby? Draco didn’t want to scare them off. If they moved her from Malfoy Manor then he’d lose what little chance of contacting Ginny he had.

He stopped and listened. There were no sounds coming from her room. Good, he thought. Maybe she was finally getting some sleep. She needed the rest. He wondered if she was freaking out like he was. In a matter of a few weeks, his entire world had been turned upside down.

The morning after he finally remembered what happened, Draco couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed. His mother believed he was sick and told everyone he had the flu. He wished that was all that was wrong with him. He couldn’t get over the look on his father’s face when he had done that spell. It was as if he had been turning toothpicks to needles or something completely mundane like that. It was just another day. Draco actually became physically ill when he thought about it.

But everyday he reported to breakfast, lunch and dinner without fail. He was not surprised to find that nothing had changed. They all carried on exactly as before. If there was one thing he had learned from his family, it was how to pretend that nothing was wrong even if the world was falling down around you. Someone outside watching them would never be able to tell the difference between the Draco who respected and admired his father and the Draco who hated his father with all his heart.

It made him curious as to what was going on behind his parents’ facades. Was Lucius planning to murder the both of them? Or was he really a good guy deep down and he was just doing what he thought was best for his family? Was Narcissa perfectly happy with just having things look nice on the outside? Or did she want to get the heck out of these walls as much as Draco did? Really, who could tell?

He couldn’t believe he had been fooled by them for so long; he had always fancied himself smart. When he was young he thought his parents were perfect. He imagined that their love was like it was in children’s storybooks. When they met each other the sun truly shown for the first time and angels of heaven (or somewhere else) came down to sing their chorus. Then little baby Draco had come along and he was just the apple of their eye, their ideal son.

The baby book fell open to a page that Narcissa had dog-eared. It was the story of a single mother dealing with her pregnancy alone. Had it been like that for her? Would it be like that for Ginny?

Inevitably, all thoughts on his parents led down the hall to Ginny. In his mind he pictured her tiny figure getting swollen up like she were nine months pregnant already, although according to the book the baby was probably only about the size of a grain of rice. He desperately wanted to see her, to ask her how she was doing and to see if there was anything he could help her with.

Mostly, he just wanted to know what was going on. Was she feeling all right? Did she blame him? Did she even know what had happened? He wanted to be more involved, not just some guy who knocked her up then handed her over to the Dark Lord. Basically, he wanted to be a better father than Lucius.

However, there wasn’t much he could do. Every day that passed, Draco realized there was something else he didn’t know. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know how pregnant she was. Conception could have happened any of the nights they were together and he wasn’t exactly sure how many of those there were. It had probably been several weeks.

The book wasn’t much help. It only served to frighten him by telling him absolutely every little thing that could possibly go wrong. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing he were a Muggle because then the pictures wouldn’t move. He could’ve surely done without the dancing diagram of the ten-week-old fetus shouting ‘I can pee’ because its genitals had formed.

Every other page was lined with instructions and warnings that made Draco’s head spin. Worries flooded his mind like a tidal wave. What if something happened to Ginny? Or worse, what if something happened to the baby? There weren’t any mediwizards here and it wasn’t like they could take her to the nearest hospital. If there were a problem, there would be no one to help her.

Even more frightening than the possibility that something would go wrong was the chance that everything would go smoothly. Then, in a few short months there would be a tiny sack of flesh that did nothing but cry, eat and poop, needing constant supervision. As much as Draco wanted to be a good father, he knew there was a high probability that he would suck royally at it. Look who he had for a teacher.

Children made Draco nervous. Whenever someone handed him a baby he handed it back as soon as possible. He didn’t like kids. Heck, he didn’t like grown-ups. People in general were perhaps the most loathsome, vile creatures ever put on the face of the Earth as far as he was concerned. Every person he had ever met had something horribly wrong with them. They were full of themselves, stupid, ugly, dirty, whiny, sniveling, poorly bred, or made loud noises when they ate. And the kid would have to grow up with these people all around him.

He stayed up every night listening for sounds coming from Ginny’s room. He needed some hint as to what was going on with her. Mostly the nights were silent. Occasionally he could vaguely make out the sound that could only be her quiet sobs. He could see her in his mind’s eye, crouching on the ground between the large bed and the nightstand clutching her knees to her as the streams of tears found their way down her face.

He wanted so badly to go and say something that would make it better. But he knew even if he could get in to see her, there wouldn’t be anything that he could say. She had been ripped from her family, imprisoned in a strange place and forced to bear a child for the Dark Lord. Most people would probably have lost their minds by now. He wasn’t very good at comforting others anyway.

The mere thought of her tears made Draco want to cry with her and also rage against her captors. He wondered how those Death Eaters could just stand outside her door, listening to her moaning and not feel moved to do something. Were they such horrible people, so dead inside, that it didn’t bother them in the least?

It occurred to him that just a few months ago he would’ve done the same thing. If he had ever heard Ginny Weasley crying at Hogwarts, he would’ve ignored it. Or even more likely, he would’ve ridiculed her in an attempt to get her to cry some more. He had been happiest when a Weasley was crying.

He was a horrible person and he knew it. Pretty soon, he would have the dubious distinction of being a horrible father too.

* *

Draco rubbed his temples. The clock told him it was around 3 a.m. Ginny hadn’t made a peep tonight. He hoped everything was all right. His greatest fear was that something important would happen and he wouldn’t even know about it. Draco hated being so cut off but there weren’t really any other options. He could stay, and pretend to be a good boy as he had been doing or he could leave. Then he’d be shut off completely and that simply wouldn’t do.

He sighed and reread the passage. He didn’t understand it at all. Normally he’d blame it on the fact that nothing made proper sense at 3 a.m. but that wasn’t it. Things hadn’t made sense since he had come home. Perhaps he hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around what was going on. It was a lot to process. Add all the funny terms in the baby book and his brain had gone into complete meltdown. What was "Cephalopelvic disproportion" anyway?

A rustling in the dark hallway snapped him out of his thoughts. Who the hell would be up and around at this time of night?

There were voices. Draco leapt from the bed. He needed to get closer if he wanted to make them out. He pressed his ear against the door hoping that the thick wood wouldn’t muffle the sounds too much.

"...which room?" said the first voice Draco couldn’t place.

"The one at the end of the hall." He pushed his head closer to the wood. Were they talking about Ginny’s room?

"Not that one," said a third voice that he immediately knew as his father’s. "The library with the red oak door."

Draco’s heart sunk. That wasn’t Ginny’s room, it was across the hall and a few doors down. Still, he was curious. What were they doing there? The Death Eaters always met in Lucius’ study or the main ballroom. He waited for their voices to fade, then tentatively pushed the door open silently cursing it for squeaking.

He peaked his head out, looking both ways down the hall. No one was coming. Clothed only in his silk pajamas, Draco padded down the long corridor without a sound. He could sneak around Malfoy Manor like no one else could, but he could never be too careful. His bare feet unconsciously stopped in front of Ginny’s door. It wasn’t guarded anymore. He wanted to knock. He had so many questions.

He looked from Ginny’s door to the library door. He knew he couldn’t. They were too close. They’d hear him if he did anything. Silently, he resigned himself to the fact that now was not the time. It was foolish to try anything under their noses. Maybe the Death Eaters could answer some of his nagging questions. That was better than nothing.

The door to the library was left slightly ajar. Draco had to be careful that no one saw him standing outside, listening to their every word.

"I trust everything went smoothly, Lucius?" The voice cut through the night. It was softer than the others were but more sinister and high-pitched, almost like a woman. No, more like nails on a chalkboard. It made Draco shudder. He had never heard Lord Voldemort speak before. He sounded bored as if it were run-of-the-mill to do such Dark Magic. When Draco thought about it, he realized it probably was.

"Yes, Master." Draco flinched as his father murmured the words. He pictured him wearing the same statement he had that night in Draco’s room. Submissive, hallow, evil.

"Lucius performed an intricate spell beforehand on the girl," Voldemort announced to the other Death Eaters. A faint ripple of chatter swept across the room. Draco imagined them all hissing to one another wondering why Lucius had been the one the Dark Lord chose. They were silenced when the Dark Lord spoke again. "It will ensure that my heir is born with powers comparable to my own. He will be a great addition to our Cause. I suspect Dumbledore and his Muggle loving followers won’t stand much a chance against us once he has risen to full strength."

Draco scoffed. He had never had much respect for Dumbledore, none in fact, but he knew that once people went around saying things like "they won’t stand a chance against us now!" a painful death was usually not far off.

"Unfortunately," Voldemort continued, "that will take time. I have waited over a decade for this; a few more years will not matter. However, we need to protect ourselves these coming years."

The Death Eaters sounded their assent. Some nodded. Others clapped. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I lost many faithful followers in the years I was without my body and since this war began we have only lost more. Our numbers are dwindling."

The hooded men began to cry out promises. They had children, nephews, brothers, and cousins who would join Voldemort’s ranks. They heard that so-and-so was thinking of joining the Cause. They all reminded Draco of the way the house elves ran around to find anything for Draco to eat when he was hungry. Lucius Malfoy was noticeably silent.

"Lucius..." the Dark Lord hissed.

"Of course, my Lord," he sputtered. "The entire Malfoy family is at your service."
Draco felt like being sick right there on the shiny, marble floor. Was dear old dad about to sign him up for more extracurricular activities?

"Good," said Voldemort seemingly pleased. He spoke louder so the other Death Eaters could hear. "Let it be known that we are now recruiting new purebloods to take the Dark Mark. I expect you all to bring new Death Eaters to me." His voice got colder, if that were possible. "Be warned, the Resistance will try to infiltrate us with spies," he paused. Draco assumed he was glancing suspiciously around the room. "This cannot occur. Anyone who brings a spy into the fold will be killed."

They collectively breathed in sharply.

"I’ll tell Draco," Lucius assured Voldemort who chuckled mirthlessly.

"No need. He’s right outside the door."

Draco’s stomach fell into the floor. Had he been that obvious? How long had Voldemort known? Suddenly, the door in front of him swung open revealing Draco’s father. He was not pleased.

"Draco!" he barked ashamed that his son was eavesdropping on his personal conversations and worst of all, hiding in the shadows like some common criminal.

For the first time, Draco got a good look at the people in the room. He had never seen Voldemort up close before. The man was hideous. He couldn’t imagine what kind of hatred would drive a person to do magic that would make himself look that way. He tried not to look too repulsed when the Dark Lord stepped nearer to him. Pretend this is the greatest moment of your life, he instructed himself. Evil boys and girls could only dream of the day they would stand before Lord Voldemort and tell him that they would serve him loyally. Draco knew this because he had been one of those poor, deluded fools.

He tried not to focus on the disgusting, snakelike face. He looked away pretending it was a sign of respect. He recognized some of the faces that dotted the room. Crabbe and Goyle’s fathers were standing in the back looking just as vacant as their sons. The executioner, MacNair was idly leaning against the stacks. None of this surprised him. He had suspected they were Death Eaters all along. But the man standing directly behind Lucius did give Draco a start.

The dark eyes of Severus Snape stared back at him. The thought that his former Professor had been in league with Voldemort had never crossed his mind. He had always thought Snape was a good man. He was a mean and nasty man, sure, but that had nothing to do with whose side of the war you were on. His father put on a polite, respectable face to the world, and look what he was. Snape was a trusted friend of Dumbledore and a Professor at Hogwarts. Draco had never known the old coot to be so wrong about someone.

Snape’s face twisted in a way Draco had never seen it before. Then he shook his head and looked away seemingly unable to stand the sight before him. Draco couldn’t make out the emotions playing across his teacher’s face. Was that shame? Fear? Pity? But somehow, whatever the emotion was, it made Draco feel ten times worse than all of Lucius’ yelling could ever hope to. He wished now that he had just stayed in his room.

"Draco! What are you...?!?" Lucius began only to have Voldemort cut him off.

"Curiosity is not a sin, Lucius." He even seemed impressed that Draco was sneaky enough to get pass the Death Eaters. He turned and addressed Draco. "Do you know what we were discussing, Draco?"

"Yes," he stammered concentrating on not being frightened. "You want new Death Eaters."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Before that, boy."

Draco tried not to react to being called ‘boy.’ He hated that but he couldn’t let them know. "You were talking about the baby."

Voldemort smiled sadistically. "So you know of the plan to give me an heir?"
Draco nodded. There was not point in concealing the truth.

"Figured it out on your own have you?" Again, Draco nodded. Instead of being angry, as Draco had thought he’d be, the Dark Lord seemed pleased. "You’re a smart boy, Draco. You’ll be a worthy addition to the cause. I trust you’re ready to accept the Dark Mark."

"Yes," Draco said dully, trying to pretend he wanted nothing more than to have a repugnant snake burned into his forearm.

Voldemort smiled, if that were possible with his face. "Good, good." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You would have it done this very evening?"

Draco panicked. Of course he didn’t want to have it done at all but if he refused the Dark Lord then Lucius would kick him out. And if Lucius kicked him out he would surely never see his child. "Yes," he said again his voice wavering audibly.

In front of him, Lucius beamed proudly. The Dark Lord wanted his son to join their ranks! Snape scowled darkly and turned away. He couldn’t take this anymore.

"It won’t be done tonight," Voldemort said simply. Relieved, Draco let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. "I wish to wait until my heir is born. You will both be branded in the same ceremony. It will be a symbolic gesture. You, the boy’s biological father will hand him over to me, his true father."

Draco forced a smile. He wanted to shout that he would never give his baby over to Voldemort. But then his gray eyes met with Snape’s calm black ones, and somehow he managed to restrain himself. He gritted his teeth. He would be composed like his teacher was if it killed him.

"As you wish," he stated emotionlessly never taking his eyes of Snape.

"It’s settled then," replied Voldemort obliviously. "You will be seeing much more of me in the future, Draco." A chill ran throughout Draco’s entire body. That was the last thing he wanted.

Voldemort’s voice had a note of finality that made the Death Eaters disapparate with sudden ‘pops.’ They asked no questions nor said another word. They just left as if he had commanded it. Only Snape offered Draco a strange, half smile-half grimace then disappeared. Finally with a slight nod of his head to his future Death Eater, Voldemort too disapparated from the room leaving Lucius and his son alone.

His father looked down upon his son, light shining in his eyes. Draco never recalled his father ever being proud of him before. When he had become Seeker for Slytherin, Lucius had threatened to take his broom away if he didn’t beat Harry Potter. When he had been named Head Boy, he was angry that Hermione Granger still beat him at every exam. He hadn’t even bothered to come to his Hogwarts’ graduation because of something Voldemort had asked him to do.

It was a true testament to the character of Lucius Malfoy that he was near tears over the worst moment of Draco’s life. "Well this is a happy day," he declared joyously.

Draco had never wanted to hit someone so badly in his entire life.

* *

The next day, Draco was informed that he was now to be a part of all the Death Eater’s hair-brained schemes. They let him in on all their secrets and showed him all the gruesome things they were doing in other wings of the house. The first thing he found out was that they were once again plotting the death of Harry Potter.

It was particularly elaborate plan. Even though they had failed every year Draco could remember, the Death Eaters were not discouraged. It seemed that every time they failed to kill the Boy Who Lived, they just thought up a more complex and ridiculous way to do it next time. Then they wondered why it never worked. Draco couldn’t help but laugh at them. (Which his father didn’t approve of at all.) It was one of the few things that had made him laugh since the whole thing started. They were just that pathetic. They would’ve made millions if they formed their own comedy troupe.

He wouldn’t call Harry a friend, in fact ‘bitter enemies’ was more like it. He had wished Potter dead more times than he could count. Sometimes, he had even tried to do the job himself. Still, he found comfort in the idea that Scarface was safe. Ginny wouldn’t want him to die.

No matter how devoted he acted or how much he sucked up, Draco still wasn’t allowed anywhere near Ginny’s room. The closest he ever got was in his room at night. He tried not to let it get him down. He was sure he’d be able to get in there one day, he just wasn’t sure how he’d do it. The plotting took up a great deal of his time. He had many ideas but none of them were plausible.

He often pretended to be sick or tired so he could return to his room. He’d wile away the midnight hours with nothing but his wand illuminated as he read his book over and over again. He found far more joy in listening for sounds coming from Ginny’s room than he did doing pony tricks for his parents. He was sorely tempted to just stop getting out of bed in the morning. He could hex himself or something, then they wouldn’t be curious.

Ginny was now nearing the end of her first trimester. The book said that the second trimester was usually the easiest on the expectant mother.

"The beginning of the second trimester usually marks a decrease in pregnancy hormones. This should result in less mood swings and crankiness," he read aloud one night.

At that exact moment there was a loud pounding. She was trying to beat the door down. "You bastards! Let me out of here!" Ginny shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Argh!" she yelled in frustration. Then there was a loud crashing noise that could only be a heavy piece of furniture shattering as it was hurled at the heavy door.

"Thank God for that," Draco muttered wryly as he heard the Death Eater enter her room in an attempt to shut her up. He hoped she had another piece of furniture for him or at least got a good kick in.

* *

The hot summer months soon yielded to the barren winter ones. Thankfully, the Death Eaters shelved most of their plans until the weather was better. It snowed more than Draco ever remembered it. Narcissa was struck with a dreadful bought of the flu. She had to be bundled up and waited on constantly. She demanded the most ridiculous things and insisted they were critical to her healing process. Draco was a bit concerned about his mother, but the whole ordeal made him worry about Ginny more. He hoped she and the baby were comfortable in the drafty mansion. She wouldn’t have the same luxuries Narcissa did if she got sick.

At Christmastime he went scouring Diagon Alley for presents that his mother would approve of with his father. Last year she had reamed them for just sending the house elves to buy her gifts. She said it wasn’t in the "Christmas spirit" but still wouldn’t allow them to take anything expensive back to the store. So this year Draco and Lucius, regretfully, had to spend the whole day shopping together. Lucius glared disdainfully at the people who jostled him as they rushed up and down the street.

"Commoners," he spat.

He didn’t approve of any of the shops either. All the items were "tacky" or "ordinary."

Draco glanced around at all the other families. They were all capable of performing such a simple task. Why couldn’t Lucius just be civil for once? He sighed regretfully. He should’ve just left his father in Knockturn Alley. For a few glorious moments he had an easy time shopping when Nott showed up and engaged Lucius in conversation.

He clutched his bag protectively. He had even managed to buy a gift for the baby without Lucius seeing. He realized that the baby wasn’t due for four more months but he couldn’t help himself. It was just a tiny gift, a fuzzy blanket to keep the baby warm after it was born. He had even resisted buying the ridiculously expensive one that claimed to be woven with hairs from a unicorn. Draco had doubts about its authenticity, besides his was just as good. It was creamy white with blue embroidery and no helpless magical creatures had to have their manes ripped out of their heads to make it.

"Are you done yet?" Lucius asked irritably. Before Draco could answer he made a sound like he had just discovered that he had stepped in something displeasing. "Ugh." He lifted his nose into the hair haughtily. "It’s that Weasely woman."

Draco spun around eagerly to look. Sure enough, Molly Weasley was ambling down the street with tons of boxes shoved underneath her arms. Her face was downcast. The people lining the streets (besides Lucius) looked at her with pity and whispered about her missing daughter. He had only seen her briefly when getting on in off the train to Hogwarts, but she had always looked happy to Draco. There was none of that now. She looked worn out and sleep deprived. The Christmas cheer bubbling up from the surrounding stores seemed to have no effect on her. She was clearly just going through the motions not really "celebrating" Christmas.

Narcissa’s words rung in his head. "I was just thinking how horrible it would be to lose your child."
He wanted to run over to her - to say something so she’d know that Ginny was alive, that she was about to be a grandmother, or at least to help carry her bags. But Lucius was disgusted by the display.

"She should be happy," he said bitterly, "now she’s got one less kid she can’t afford." He grabbed Draco roughly by the arm. "Let’s go," he said with a note of finality in his voice. "I can’t stand being around these peasants anymore."

As Lucius hustled him toward the Leaky Cauldron, Draco looked over his should to get a last glance of Mrs. Weasley. She had dropped all her bags and was hastily picking them up but every time she piled one into her arms another one would drop. She was flustered and completely embarrassed when the boxes opened up spilling their contents all over the street.

No one made any move to help her pick the cheap presents up. And it wasn’t for lack of noticing her. He even heard one woman comment that most of the gifts were second hand. The woman with her laughed. Draco guessed their pity for Molly losing Ginny didn’t extend to actually lifting a hand to help her.

Draco craned his neck to see her until the door to the Leaky Cauldron slammed shut behind him. Last he saw, a man in expensive, black robes had stepped on one of the of the presents crushing its box and destroying whatever had been inside with a loud shattering sound. Draco never heard him apologize.

* *

In January when Ginny was beginning her third trimester, Draco spotted an article in the Daily Prophet that caught his eye. It was about Ginny. He looked up furtively to make sure his father and mother weren’t looking. They were engaged with a house elf who had burned breakfast. He folded the paper over and scanned the article.

DISAPPEARANCE SOLVED BY MINISTRY

LONDON - The Ministry of Magic announced yesterday that it has closed the investigation into the disappearance of Ginny Weasley. As reported months ago in the Daily Prophet, Miss Weasley, 18, vanished from King’s Cross Station in June while returning from her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.

"We are pleased to have finally solved this case," said Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. "It was very troubling for all involved. We can only hope that we have brought some relief to the grieving Weasley family."

The missing girl was the only daughter of Ministry Official Arthur Weasley.

"It came as a great shock to us. We really didn’t want to believe it was possible," said the Minister shaking his head sadly when asked about his reaction to when a team of highly trained Ministry detectives delivered the news. After thorough investigation it was determined that Miss Weasley fell from the platform at King’s Cross only to be tragically run over by the Hogwarts Express.

When asked what the Minister planned to do to avoid future accidents he responded gravely, "I’m afraid there’s not much we can do, the train belongs to Hogwarts. We have asked Headmaster Dumbledore to replace the death trap but he refuses to comply."

"No, I do not plan to get rid of the Hogwarts Express," said Dumbledore via owl. "I am still not convinced that it was the cause of Miss Weasley’s disappearance. After all, when someone is run over by a train there is usually a body found afterward."

The Minister refutes Dumbledore’s position calling it "Poppycock! Of course she was run over by the train. Dumbledore just refuses to see facts."

The Weasley family refused to officially comment on the Ministry’s findings. However the Daily Prophet managed to hear Arthur Weasley calling the matter "Ridiculous!" as he left his Ministry office early yesterday.

Obviously, Mr. Weasley shares the Ministry and the Daily Prophet’s view that Dumbledore should get rid of that monstrous train.



Draco shook his head gravely. He had never had great faith in the Ministry’s competence but this took the cake. They obviously felt that since they hadn’t been able to solve the case, the next logical thing to do was blame Dumbledore. That put to rest any futile hope of the Aurors coming to rescue Ginny.

If Ginny was ever to be freed then there were only two people for Draco to pin his hopes on. The first was Dumbledore, who Draco had despised and ridiculed for the better part of his life. Even more frightening, the other was Draco himself. He was the only one who knew where Ginny was and what they had done to her. Although he couldn’t see himself ever rescuing her as he still hadn’t even managed to make contact with her. Besides, he wasn’t the brave knight riding the white horse type.

"Draco?" Narcissa called, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts. "Draco, sweetie, are you all right?"

"Hm?" He looked up startled to find her staring at him with a concerned statement on her face. He looked around. Lucius was gone. "Where’s Father?"

"He left," she said simply as if he should’ve know that already. She got even more worried. Was he having blackouts?

He scowled. "Typical." Not hearing what he said, Narcissa came over to him and put her hand on his forehead. "Mum!" he cried as he jerked his head away from her.

"Are you sick?" she asked in a motherly tone. "You look pale. Have some orange juice." She pushed a glass toward him as if that would solve all his problems.
"Mum! I’m fine," he protested as he took the glass.

She looked at him skeptically and sighed. "Ever since you got home, I don’t know what it is...you just don’t seem like my little boy anymore."

He avoided her gaze. "I’m not your little boy anymore," he said sullenly.
She made a disapproving noise. "Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll always be my little boy." He looked up at her to find her smiling at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. "Unless of course you’re arrested," she said thoughtfully. "Then you’re ‘Steve’ and don’t know anyone named Malfoy."

Draco laughed spitting orange juice across the table.

* *

Draco started having trouble sleeping at the end of February. Ginny was due in mid March. What if she went into labor early? Would the baby still be all right? What if something had already happened and he just didn’t know about it. He thought he was going to develop an ulcer from worrying or maybe gray hair, not that it’d make much of a difference with his silvery hair.

He was constantly listening for anything that could give him clues as to what was going on. Mostly he tried to get news on Ginny, but he also collected anything he could on the Death Eaters’ plans. He felt like a spectator in his own home, unable to do anything but watch, wait and listen.

One particularly gloomy evening was supposed to be the attack on Harry Potter’s life. Thankfully, the Death Eaters didn’t yet trust Draco enough to involve him. Lucius had also pointed out that Harry might recognize Draco’s voice since they had been at Hogwarts together. So the Dark Lord was satisfied in leaving Draco behind. No one was more thrilled about it than Draco himself. As the night progressed, he would only get happier and happier about being left behind.

Around 4 a.m. a loud commotion cut through the silence. It sounded like a million people running through the house screaming. Draco had been half-asleep but sat straight up in bed when he heard the noise. The first thing that entered his head was Ginny. He had heard yelling. His pulse began to race with fear he had never known before.

His heart finally started beating at a reasonable pace when he realized the sound hadn’t come from Ginny’s end of the hall. All was well down that direction. It seemed to have been below Draco. The lower level of the manor was being used as home base for the Death Eaters. Then it hit him: the attack. Something must have gone wrong. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

He jumped from the bed and pressed his ear against the door. There were faint voices crying out in the distance.

"What happened?" shouted a voice he couldn’t identify.

"They knew we were coming!" That one was vaguely familiar. It took a moment for Draco to place it. It was MacNair.

"Who’d they get?" the first Death Eater asked.

MacNair listed about a half dozen names. The other cursed. "Dead or alive?" he asked.

"Alive," said MacNair. "But not for long." His last statement hung ominously in the air. Draco knew what came next. It was another thing that separated Draco from the Death Eaters. They were all comfortable with it. He wasn’t.

The Ministry of Magic had ways of making Death Eaters talk. Things that made Draco’s skin crawl. But the Dark Lord had an even better way of keeping that from happening. It was routine. In a few minutes, more Death Eaters would be sent in. They’d get as close as they could without revealing themselves. Then they would use the Killing Curse on everything that moved. Such was war.

Draco hung his head. He hoped Dumbledore was ready for it. The Resistance agents had to get out of there if they didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. None of the Death Eaters would be sad to see a few Ministry blokes go. Even Harry Potter could deflect only so many Killing Curses. As for the Death Eaters who were about to die, he couldn’t get himself to care too much. All Draco could think was that his mother would be glad there were fewer people in and out of her home. They left stains on the carpet.

Footsteps pounded against the floor. The sound reverberated in the empty rooms. Draco peered out from his keyhole to see what was going on. Every Death Eater they could find was being called to do damage control. A blur of black robes shot past his door. He paused. That was curious. The only Death Eater down that end of the hallway was...

He jerked the door open forcefully. The hallway was empty. Ginny’s door was unguarded.

He could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He cautiously took a step forward not willing to believe his good fortune. His whole body was shaking with fear and anticipation. He looked left and right. There really was no one.

No one to stop him. With that thought, his fear left him. He rushed forward. There was no time to waste. This was his chance! All the things he wanted to say and do flooded his mind.

"Ginny!" he cried before he even reached the door. "Ginny!" He pounded his fist furiously on the heavy wood. "Alohomora!" he barked but nothing happened. "Alohomora!" he said again more desperately. He cursed loudly. "How do you get this damn thing open?"

A quiet voice stopped all his anger. Suddenly he couldn’t think at all. It echoed in his mind and in his heart. "Like they’re going to tell me," she scoffed.

"Ginny," he breathed. He had a million things he wanted to say to her but all of them had left his mind when she spoke.

"Draco?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded then realized she couldn’t see him through the thick door. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "It’s me."

"What’s happening?" she asked in a scared voice.

"There was an attack. A lot of Death Eaters got captured..." he explained all the while thinking to himself that there were more important things to discuss but not being able to vocalize any of his thoughts.

She gasped. "Was anyone hurt?" she asked. She sounded like she was shaking with worry.

He wondered why she cared about the Death Eaters before he realized what she meant. Her family was a large part of the Resistance. She hadn’t seen them in nine months. She must have been going out of her head not knowing what was going on with them. "They’re fine, Ginny," he assured her.

He heard her whimper and knew that she was crying. He wished he could think of something more comforting to say but he had never comforted a girl when she was crying before. He always just walked away because he didn’t care. Now he did and it was killing him.

"Ginny, how are you? How’s the baby?" he asked in a soft voice.

She sniffed trying to stop the crying. He knew she didn’t want to show weakness. "I’m fine," she said indignantly. "Why do you care?"

"Ginny..." he began hurt by her coldness. Didn’t she know he wanted to help? "I’m the father."

As the words left his mouth he felt a great swelling in his heart. That was the first time he had ever said it aloud. I’m the father, he repeated over and over in his head. I’m going to be a father.
She snorted. "I know that," she spat, highly affronted that he was implying she didn’t know who the father of her baby was.

He opened his mouth to say something back to her, to let her know that he wanted to be a real father not just a sperm donor. He wanted to tell her that he was worried about her and that he was staying just for her. Most of all, he wanted her to know that he hadn’t been part of the plan. He wasn’t evil like his father; he had been used like her.

But the words never left his lips.

There was more shouting from the lower level. It was no longer disjointed voices yelling for help. It was one dark mixture of hissing and screaming at the others for their incompetence. The fear gripped him again. It was Voldemort.

"You better go," she whispered with the same level of fear in her own voice.

"Ginny, but I," he protested looking back at the open door of his room. How much time did he have to get back there without getting caught?

"Go!" she hissed. She would get in just as much trouble as he would. He had to leave. She shouldn’t be upset this close to the delivery. But there were so many things he hadn’t told her yet. "Please."

“I’m sorry," he said. He was sorry he was such a coward, that he ran back to his room and hid under the covers. He was sorry that he had hurt her. He was sorry that she was going through so much. He was sorry he couldn’t do more to help. Most of all he was sorry that he couldn’t express how much she and the baby meant to him and that if she ever really needed him he wouldn’t run.

*

This may, or may not, be new to you. I finished it the Night the Lights Went Out in FanFiction.net. Since then, I posted it to my list (DracoGinnyFanFic, plug, plug) and the archive site of that same list. Thanks to all my listees who reviewed, you all are the best list ever! I apologize to those of you who thought it was a disappointment. Though, all my work is a disappointment to me so I know how you feel.

DISCLAIMER: All these characters (With the exception of the baby, or “Draco Jr.” as my reviewers call it. ^_^) belong to the incomparable JK Rowling. I’m sorry I stole them and did such horrible things to them. Please don’t sue. I have no money as is.
NOTES: As always, big thank yous to Amy and Tessie my beta readers, especially Tessie because she pointed out a major error in this chapter that Amy and I missed. And to my loyal readers because anyone who takes the time to read my fics rocks beyond all measure in my opinion.

* * *

Malfoy Manor was decorated more spectacularly than Draco could ever remember it. Narcissa was giving some sort of party but he couldn’t remember what it was for. He knew it wasn’t a holiday because there weren’t any gala worthy holidays in the middle of April. He imagined she was only giving it so she’d have someone to talk to who wasn’t a Death Eater. She had spent weeks planning every last detail so Draco pretended like he remembered what it was for just to keep her happy. He had been preoccupied with other situations.

Thousands of guests had been invited; they all chatted, danced and ate the delicious food with blissful smiles on their faces. Draco, on the other hand, stood off to the side yawning. He was tired from staying up late every night for the past two weeks. Ginny was just about due and he didn’t want to miss anything. He certainly didn’t what to have to tell his child that he missed his birth because he was dancing. Also, he found this type of party extremely tiresome.

He was sick of putting on a fake smile and shaking everyone’s hand. It seemed like every other person had known him when he was little and felt it necessary to tell him so based on how tall he had been last time they had seen each other. The only thing he hated more was when people would say, “Oh, hello, Draco. You remember me don’t you? You went to Hogwarts with my son, so-and-so.”

Then he’d have to force a smile and fight the urge to say, “Yes. I knew him. God, what an idiot you have for a kid. Hope you didn’t spend too much on his education. You could’ve gotten the same result if you had left him on a mountain somewhere to be raised by wolves.”

For whatever reason, they were always offended after he said things like that. People were very touchy when it came to their children.

Draco scowled darkly. Over the music he couldn’t hear what was going on upstairs. For all he knew, Ginny could be pumping out his child right then. He glanced at the clock impatiently. Five hours. He had been sitting through this hell for five hours. He sighed. Narcissa was still cheerfully playing the role of hostess. She was in her element; she was actually shining. She never got sick of people telling her how lovely she looked, how beautiful the house was and what a great party it was.

He yawned again. Everyone blurred together, literally. His vision was clouding due to the sleep deprivation. Either that, or the pâté was bad.

“Draco? You don’t look well.” Narcissa’s voice made Draco jump. He didn’t remember her walking over to him. He must have dozed off.

“I’m fine,” he replied as he swayed unsteadily on his feet.

She looked at him quizzically. “Perhaps you should retire.”

Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was like his birthday had come early. She normally made him suffer all the way through her parties no matter what. One year he had broken four fingers in a Quidditch accident and she had not only refused to heal it but still made him give every guest a hearty handshake.

He gave her a long searching look. She nodded wearily. “Go on.”

He grinned. “Goodnight, Mum,” he said as he kissed her affectionately on the cheek.

The music got fainter and fainter as he ascended the stairs until he could only hear the beat of the drum shaking the floor beneath him. He paused at the top of the stairs. Ginny’s room was silent still. The Death Eater didn’t look up at Draco. He was slumped against the door as if it were the only thing holding him up. He looked just as tired as Draco felt.

Draco sighed. She was over due; he was sure of it now. It was at least a week, maybe two. He had never known Ginny to be late before. Why was it that now she was late for the most important event in of both of their lives? He scolded himself for thinking that way. It wasn’t like Ginny had planned to keep them all waiting. She was probably as anxious as he was.

A watched pot never boils, a voice in the back of his head sang out.

That statement had never made any sense to Draco. Of course it would boil. And if it didn't, then you should do that spell to make water boil. He didn’t know it because he never prepared his own food, but he was sure there was one. He had seen the house elves do it.

As soon as his eyes met his large, four poster bed, Draco fell upon it. He didn’t bother to remove his expensive dress robes. He was just too tired. His mother would surely have it out with him over the wrinkled fabric but he just didn’t care. Sleep was too overpowering. He found himself drifting off as soon as his head hit the over-stuffed pillow.

He felt like he was only asleep for seconds when he was abruptly awoken by a scream that ripped through the night. For a moment, Draco didn’t know who or where he was. Then the scream came again, louder and unmistakably female. He glanced at the clock. 12:03. He had been out for almost two hours.

Ginny screamed again. He muffled heard voices. Someone yelling at her. Draco kicked himself as he scrambled out of bed. How long had she been in labor? What had he missed?

That reasonable part of his head told him not to worry. He couldn’t have missed that much since he hadn’t heard her until now and because she had been quiet two hours ago. Which meant she hadn’t been in pain.

He reached the door of his room and paused. There were more voices now. That meant a bunch of Death Eaters were out there with her. They probably had orders not to let him around Ginny. Draco felt all his muscles clench involuntarily. He didn’t care if they didn’t want him to see. It was his kid for Merlin’s sake! He wasn’t going to miss this. He grabbed the doorknob and prepared to fling the door open.

Then something happened that made his stomach drop into the floor below him. It didn’t open. He pulled on it again, this time more roughly. Still, it didn’t give way. Someone had locked it from the outside. Frantic, he grabbed it with both hands and put all his weight into prying the door open. Nothing.

Draco growled in frustration. He kicked at the door so harshly that the dresser next to it shook with the force. But the door didn’t budge. Hurling every spell he could think of at the offending door, all the while, Ginny was screaming intermittently from the other room. Her shouts only made him more desperate to get to her. He threw his entire body against the wood, which only served to give him terrific pain in his shoulder.

Dejectedly, he sank to the floor still clutching his arm, which would surely be bruised in the morning. He was sweating and breathing ragged breaths. It occurred to him that he had probably never worked so hard before in his life. Fitting that it wouldn’t do any good at all. He leaned back against the stubborn door as Ginny cried out again.

He could imagine her lying there with a horde of strange Death Eaters surrounding her. She was red faced and her hair clung to her face with sweat. Every now and then there was a low whimpering moan to accompany her painful shrieks. He bet she was crying. The tears probably mingled with her sweat as they dripped down her face.

The Death Eaters probably didn’t care that she was crying. They were staring at her with stony expressions, the fact that a miracle was being performed before their very eyes completely lost on them. He wanted to push through the wall to her, like a ghost, and let her know that she wasn’t alone and that it would be all right.

The hands of the clock slowly moved around its face. Draco never wavered; he spent the entire night with his ear pressed firmly against the door listening for every scream and muffled word. Despite the sleep that had been overpowering only hours ago, he was completely awake through the entire ordeal. Before he knew it, five hours had passed and the sun was peaking out ever so slightly from its hiding place in the mountains.

It was that eerie time before dawn, when it was not quite night anymore but not yet morning, when her shouts started to come even closer together. He, and everyone else, knew the moment was approaching. There seemed to be an charge in the air, a note of urgency. It was as if the entire world were waiting for the baby to pop out and then the day could truly start. He had constantly remind himself to breath because he was so focused on what was happening outside he wasn’t paying attention to himself.

Ginny was screaming louder and more often now. His heart started to race in his chest, as the voice in the back of his head whispered “You’re about to be a father.” It didn’t matter if he would be like Lucius or worse. The baby was coming no matter what; he had absolutely no control over it. It was kind of like flying on a broomstick. He vividly recalled a time when Potter had shot off into the night after the Snitch. Draco, of course, had taken off after him. Potter had always been a better flier, one of the things that annoyed Draco most about him. For Harry it had been effortless to streak, to snatch the Snitch out of the air and pulled out of the dive. But for Draco, it was like being hurled at top speed toward the ground with no brakes. He knew he was going to smack into the Earth, it would probably even hurt a great deal but there was nothing he could do about it.

Soon his pounding heart was silenced by the sound of Ginny’s yells. He listened intently. He couldn’t explain it but they were different now, more guttural. And if he wasn’t mistaken there was a note of fear in her voice.

He raised to his feet and began pacing around the room in tune the voice in the back of his head saying “Something’s wrong... Something’s wrong... Something’s wrong...” He chewed nervously on his thumbnail. He wanted so badly to see what was happening. Why wouldn’t anyone tell him anything?

“Ginny!” he yelled at the top of his lungs hoping someone, anyone would answer. He didn’t care that he was supposed to be asleep or that they didn’t want him hanging around. He needed to know. He felt like he would die if he didn’t.

Ginny screamed again. This time, Draco screamed with her. She didn’t sound any better. If anything, she sounded worse. It made a painful knot in his chest, like someone had punched him repeatedly. All he wanted was for her to be all right, but there was nothing to be done. All he could do was pace around the room listening to her pained cries.

He picked up a knick-knack off the dresser, a ridiculously expensive paperweight made of crystal, and hurled it at the wall. The ornament shattered into thousands of pieces just as Ginny cried out again. The bits ricocheted off the wall sending them all across the floor. They made a sort of dusty covering over the glossy, hard-wood floor the kind that the house elves had tired so long and hard to avoid.

“Was that really necessary?” his mirror asked angrily, obviously very perturbed at having been awakened in the middle of the night.

Draco didn’t answer. He didn’t hear. He sunk to the ground as all his anger left him only to be replaced by powerful fear. He knew in his heart that he was the only one who cared if Ginny came out of this alive. The Death Eaters didn’t give a damn about her or the baby; they only feared Voldemort’s wrath. He also knew that if his hunches were right and that something really was wrong then there wasn’t anyone to help her. They couldn’t go to a mediwizard since it was supposed to be a secret that she was there and the Death Eaters knew nothing of birth, only death.

He felt the shattered glass cut into his legs and hands as he sunk to his knees. He had tried everything possible to get out of his prison to her but he had failed. If he couldn’t do anything for her, then who would?

Draco looked down at the floor. There was nothing he could do. He ran his hands, his useless hands, over the shards. He didn’t flinch when the pieces cut into him, drawing droplets of mortal blood. His hands had always been so smooth with the lack of work. He never remembered seeing them as bloody as they were today. He breathed out an unsteady breath as he slowly looked up.

The vaulted ceiling stretched out above him. There were intricate carvings in the marble and panting, hand done by famous artists, on the plaster. People always commented on it when they saw his room. He didn’t see it. He was trying to see beyond it.

He spoke with a trembling voice. “Uh...God?” he asked, unsure of how this was done as he had never prayed before in his life. “Er, hi,” he whispered, still unsure of himself. “I know you and I haven’t been on speaking terms, you know, ever. That was, uh, all my fault. See, I was an ass,” he paused, realizing he probably shouldn’t swear in front of a deity. “I mean a git. I was a git,” he corrected himself. “Anyway, you shouldn’t take my mistakes out on Ginny and the baby.” He stopped again. “Well you’re God and you can do whatever you want... But you shouldn’t let Ginny suffer like this. She’s a good person. I know because whenever I did mean stuff to her in school, she’d never call me names or,” he swallowed hard, “sink to my level.”

He must have been quite the sight. The sun was only filling the part of the room closest to the window while the majority was still cloaked in darkness, and in the middle of the room Draco, who was still dressed in the very finest dress robes that were now ripped, wrinkled and covered in blood, knelt with his face turned to the Heavens while the agonized cries of Ginny Weasley, a girl he once hated, drifted through the locked door to his ears.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. I can’t fix it and I’ll probably never be as good of a person as Ginny is. So if you’re going to save anyone it should be her. If you could just make sure that she and the baby are okay, then I’d really appreciate it. Thanks.”

Suddenly everything was still.

Draco felt a great weight lift from his chest. The days when he had despised everything with red hair and freckles seemed a distant memory. Some things were more important than age old vendettas, and this little baby was one of them.

The sun was rising. The same moment he felt the warmth hit the back of his neck, a faint whimper from the other room made the tears that he hadn’t known were threatening to come down his face come. It was a baby’s cry. It was dull at first then got progressively louder until it was filling up the entire manor.

A smile slowly spread across Draco’s face until he was laughing uncontrollably. “I’m a father,” he chuckled in a mix of nerves and joy. He felt like running around the entire room shrieking at the top of his lungs. Now he knew why some men went about giving every person they saw a cigar. He wanted to tell everyone. “I’m a father.”

The baby wailed loudly. He could hear the Death Eaters trying to shut it up to no avail. The baby wouldn’t quiet until Ginny got to hold it protectively in her arms. “Shh.” Draco could barely make out the sound of her voice as she hushed the screaming child. “Don’t mind them, baby. They may be big and ugly but I won’t let them hurt you.”

He grinned stupidly. That’s right, he thought. He wanted to go in there and add his voice to the chorus. “We won’ let them hurt you.”

A commotion in the hallway brought Draco back to his senses. He scrambled, on all fours, back to the door and pressed his ear against it. Footsteps grew louder and louder as did the voices of the people they belonged to. They were coming to see the baby. Without even hearing them speak, Draco knew who one of the men was. He had a distinctive walk. It was almost as if he were slithering instead of taking human steps.

Voldemort didn’t sound pleased.

“Idiots,” he hissed. “Can you do nothing right?”

If possible, Draco pressed his head closer to the door. Was something wrong with his baby?

“But, Sir...,” the other voice protested. It was high pitched and sniveling. “This is not our fault... it was always a possibility... there was no way of knowing...”

“Silence, Wormtail! I don’t want to hear any more of your whimpering.” The Dark Lord only sounded angrier that Wormtail dare suggest that it wasn’t the Death Eaters’ fault. “I was very clear about what I wanted this baby to be, but still you have brought me this,” he scoffed disgustedly, “this, girl.”

It took a moment for Draco to register what he had just heard. Then like a whip crack, he started bouncing excitedly, which hurt a great deal as he was still on his knees. “It’s a girl! It’s a girl!” he cheered proudly but quietly to no one in particular.

The mirror rolled its eyes at Draco‘s uncharacteristic antics. Draco stuck his tongue out at it and continued his chanting. “It’s a girl! It’s a girl! I have a baby girl!”

His mind was flooded with images of him holding a pretty, little girl in frilly robes in his arms. She hugged him lovingly.

“My heir was to be male!” Voldemort bellowed furiously on the other side of the door.

A triumphant grin spread across Draco’s face. The Dark Lord’s anger only served to make him happier. Most of his trusty book had been confusing, but he had learned one thing and that was that the father determined the sex of a baby. That could only mean one thing. “She’s not your heir, Voldemort.”

* * *

The baby remained with Ginny for many weeks. The Death Eaters had been advised that it was best to keep a newborn with its mother while she was nursing. Sometimes Draco could hear the baby gurgling. He got the strangest sensation when he thought that those sounds were coming from his daughter. She didn’t cry often. Generally, she was quite an easy-going, even tempered child. Draco assumed she got that from Ginny because ‘even’ and ‘tempered’ were words that were never used to describe a Malfoy.

The Dark Lord only came to see her once, just after her birth. He had made a little speech about the child marking the dawn of a new era. Then he had, apparently, tried to take her from Ginny. The child had cried something awful when he touched her, which made Draco smile in a proud sort of way. He wasn’t the most attractive man and probably scared the wits out of her but Draco chalked it up to intelligence.

Draco was still banned from seeing Ginny or the baby. He had thought it was torture not getting to see her when she was pregnant but he was wrong. That was a champagne breakfast compared to not being able to see his daughter. He felt like he was being punched in the chest whenever he heard her cry, even though it was 100 times better than not hearing her at all.

The first time he got to see her was rather unexpected. The Malfoy Family was quietly eating dinner in the dining room. Narcissa was angry with Lucius over something but Lucius didn’t notice. Draco was anxious to go back up to his room and try to find out what Ginny was doing. He barely ate anything, only pushed it around on his plate and tried to transfigure it into smaller portions. He was trying to make it look as though he had finished his dessert, when the all the house elves came rushing out into the dining room as they would have if there had been a stampede of Hippogriffs in the kitchens.

The Malfoys all rose to their feet. Narcissa and Lucius were sputtering, utterly furious that the elves had interrupted dinner. Their protests were lost in the sea of screams coming from the elves. Draco couldn’t help but notice the terrified expressions that the elves wore. One elf even hid behind his legs for protection. He was going to kick the wretched creature and tell it to get off him when he noticed it was a particularly small, young female, probably a baby. She looked up at him with the roundest, watery eyes he had ever seen. Draco sighed and kicked himself for allowing an elf to grab hold of his robes but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her off.

“What is going on?” Narcissa demanded of the elf in charge when they finally quieted down.

“We is begging your pardon, ma’am,” he said in a high-pitched, fearful voice as he twisted his ears to punish himself. “Foppy is lighting the fire in the ballroom when he is seeing a head in the fireplace.” He started to bang his head against the wall to prevent himself from saying anything that would anger the Malfoys. “He is scaring the other elves, ma’am.”

Lucius brushed past the elves wearing a disgusted statement. He disappeared into the large, empty ballroom. His voice drifted in to the occupants of the dining room. “My Lord,” he said politely. Narcissa scowled darkly at his words. Her anger with the elves was completely forgotten.

“Come along now.” She ushered the elves back into the kitchen. “Just stay out of the library for tonight. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said in a tone that betrayed the truth. There were lots of things to be afraid of when Lord Voldemort was in the house.

Once the elves were safely packed away, she turned to her son exasperatedly. “I don’t know...” her voice trailed off as her eyes settled on something behind Draco. He spun around to find Lucius standing in the doorway.

She pursed her lips. Draco knew she was dying to say something but was holding her tongue. “More guests tonight, dear?” she asked with a sour smile and obvious distaste for the endearment.

Lucius nodded curtly. “The Death Eaters will be apparating shortly.” He turned to Draco. “You might as well come.” He didn’t sound happy about it. If Draco wasn’t mistaken, Lucius was a tad distrustful of his own offspring.

If possible, Narcissa scowled even more at her husband’s words. She looked from Lucius to Draco with a warning sort of look but she said nothing. She left with her head held high and her nose in the air. “I’m going to bed,” she called in a haughty tone once she was halfway out the door as if it were just a second thought that she should tell them where she was going.

Lucius turned back to Draco with narrowed eyes. “Do not anger the Dark Lord.” He said each word as if it were its own sentence.

Lucius turned on his heel and marched out of the dining room without another word. Draco shrugged and followed after him. He hoped he wouldn’t be taking the Dark Mark this evening. That wasn’t something he looked forward too. In fact, that was something he rather hoped he could avoid all together. He was busy thinking of excuses to get himself out of it when the other Death Eaters started to appear.

Soon the ballroom, which was usually vacant save a few chairs stacked in the corner, filled with men in hooded robes. They all took their place in a circle. Draco didn’t know where to stand. He decided to stand next to Lucius, even though he didn’t much feel like being around the man at the moment. They left a space so everyone could see Voldemort’s head bobbing in the flames of the fireplace. He had always had a demonic appearance, but the addition of the fire dancing behind him made him look like the devil himself. Draco once again felt an intense urge to flee, but he stood his ground trying to focus his mind on other things like his baby.

Besides, Draco reminded himself, Voldemort wasn’t actually in the room. He was just speaking to them from the fireplace. There wasn’t much he could do from there. This brought him a little comfort. How could Voldemort give him the Dark Mark if he didn’t have any hands? No, whatever they were all doing there that evening it obviously wasn’t important enough for Voldemort to actually be present. He doubted he was about to be initiated.

Once they were all in place, the Dark Lord nodded his head at a particularly large and ugly Death Eater. The man bowed as he backed out of the room. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his spot. Everyone else was waiting for the Death Eater to return. He wished he knew what he had gone to get. Then he could prepare himself for what was about to come.

He braced himself for unspeakable horrors. He constantly reminded himself why he was there; why he was putting up with this: his baby. That thought made him feel all warm inside, like he could face anything. He was dumbfounded, then, when the Death Eater returned not with something gruesome or evil, but with a tiny lump of blankets which he held awkwardly in his arms.

For a moment, Draco didn’t know what it was. He wondered what Voldemort could possibly want that was wrapped in fluffy, pink stuff. It was so unlike him. It wasn’t until the child inside started to cry that he realized his daughter was in those blankets.

He had to restrain himself from running over to the baby and scooping her up into his arms. He had never seen her before, and he wanted to get a better look. Was she all right? Was everything in the right place? Did she have all her fingers and toes? He stood on his tiptoes trying to catch a glimpse of her. All he could see was blankets. He wished she would stop crying. It bothered him to no end that his baby wasn’t happy. She had been quiet in Ginny’s room. Anger flooded him. Had the Death Eater done something to make her cry? He felt an inexplicable need to go punch him in the nose.

“Ugh,” complained Avery as he put his hands over his ears. “Why is she wailing like that?”

Draco growled low in his throat. No one heard. All most of the men cared about was that her crying was displeasing to them. It was obvious to him that something was bothering her. They should be trying to comfort her. Yet, none of them made a move to do anything.

The first Death Eater pulled the tiny baby out of her blankets. “Here she is, my Lord,” he said as he held her up like a trophy.

Draco clenched his fists. It was the first time he ever laid eyes on his daughter. He wished he had their first encounter hadn’t been while she was crying incessantly with dozens of evil men looking on. He wanted some time alone with her, just to look at her and hold her. He needed to think. There were so many conflicting emotions coursing through his body at that moment. He was angry. He was afraid he’d be a bad father. Most of all, he was so in love with her he didn’t know what to do with himself. She was so beautiful. She was small but everything looked to be in the right place. To him, she was perfect.

The others didn’t share his sentiments. “Someone shut her up!” yelled another Death Eater.

“What the heck is wrong with her?” someone else screeched irritably.

Draco looked long and hard at the child. “She’s cold,” he said without realizing he had spoken aloud. Everyone turned to look at him. His father looked angry that he had said anything. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. It was drafty on the first floor and she was used to being in Ginny’s warm arms. That mean, old Death Eater had come, ripped her from her comfortable spot and brought her down her where lots of scary men leered at her. No wonder the poor thing was crying.

“Give her to the boy,” Voldemort commanded from the fireplace. Draco had never heard him give an order he liked so much.

He held his arms out ready to accept her. The Death Eater warily placed the child in his outstretched arms. He felt warmth spread through his body the moment she touched him. His nose filled with the distinctive baby smell coming off her. It was fresh and clean: the smell of innocence, something that wasn’t often found in Malfoy Manor. The girl looked up and their eyes met. Draco would’ve sworn that she recognized him. She smiled a childish smile and shrieked happily, kicking her little legs and flailing her arms. He knew the feeling.

“Huh? You cold?” he asked her in a gentle tone as he conjured another blanket to wrap around her. Instinctively she snuggled against him toward the warmth. A content grin formed on her chubby cheeks. He reached out to touch them. He couldn’t really believe that he was holding her after waiting so long. She giggled at his touch. Her tiny fingers caught his thumb. Her hands were so small that‘s all they could grab.

His father was looking daggers at him, but he couldn’t seem to care. All of his problems and fears disappeared the moment her skin touched his. The other Death Eaters had turned to Voldemort expectantly. Draco didn’t notice. He was so wrapped up in his daughter. They could’ve held the Quidditch World Cup in that room and he wouldn’t have paid it no mind. Some things were just more important.

“Give the child the wand,” Voldemort instructed causing Draco to look up for the first time. The others were milling about importantly. They drew a circle on the floor and stood inside it’s edges. He found himself hustled into the middle of the circle.

The baby whimpered when they started chanting something. “Shh,” he tried to soothe her. It hurt him when she cried. He had to stop her. “It’s ok. It’s ok.” He bounced her up and down playfully. “You’re all right.”

Lucius, acting like his job was a crucial one, stepped over to the fireplace. He said something in hushed tones to the Dark Lord. Draco couldn’t make it out. When he turned around again, he had a wand in his hand. It was made of yew and rather long. A little over 13 inches, Draco would guess. As Lucius advanced on his son with the wand held tightly in his hand, flashes of memories swirled in his mind. His father, with his wand outstretched, advancing on him from the door to his bedroom in the middle of the night. Draco didn’t want to remember that night he had first been forced under the spell that would end with the conception of his daughter.

The child in his arms squirmed as Lucius approached. The simple action managed to break the hold he had over Draco. He looked down at his daughter. She was waving her arms about, like she was trying to get his attention. He smiled at the irony of it all. She was right of course. He should be looking at her, not Lucius, he wasn’t worth his son’s time.

His father was upon them now. He looked down at his son and granddaughter with little or no emotion at all. It was similar to standing in front of a block of ice. Draco pulled the blankets tighter around the girl. She twisted in her father’s arms again trying to get her grandfather to play with her too. She cooed and smiled proudly as she blew a spit bubble. Lucius observed her expressionlessly.

Following Voldemort’s orders, he tried to stuff the wand into the girl's tiny fist. Knowing nothing about babies, Lucius was unaware she was too young to hold a wand. Draco rolled his eyes. He was not surprised when the wand fell from her fist. The girl turned her eyes to her father, disinterested in the wand, since it was just a big stick to her. "How old do you think she is father? She can't hold a wand yet," Draco hissed under his breath so the other Death Eaters couldn’t hear. Lucius didn’t respond.

Draco knew what they were testing for. When wizards and witches went to buy wands they tested them by seeing which wand they could make sparks fly from. This proved, not only that the wand was a correct fit, but that there was magic in the wizards blood. Most wizards couldn’t work a wand properly until they were older, which is why schools started when they were adolescents. Of course, Voldemort’s heir should be superior and, therefore, able to do it at birth. The wand they expected her to use was obviously Voldemort’s. They wanted to see if had powers like his.

“My Lord,” said one of the Death Eaters in a lofty tone. “One cannot expect a child this young to work a wand. That is why wizard children only go off to school when they’re eleven --”

His syrupy voice was silenced immediately by the sound of Voldemort’s wrath. “Silence!” he roared. “She is my heir. She is not some common child. If your,” he drawled the last word, making it clear he blamed the Death Eaters, “spell had worked then she would be powerful enough to do many spells by now.”

Draco tried hard not to laugh. He was expecting an awful lot from her. How exactly would she perform these spells having not yet mastered the ability to speak or even sit upright? Hell she was a few weeks old, she couldn't even hold the wand by herself. Still, he had faith that his child was a cut above the rest. He didn’t care about what Voldemort had done to her, his child wasn’t an ordinary witch. She could do this; she just needed a little help.

Voldemort was incensed that she would be so careless with his wand. The Death Eaters were in a tizzy. They were all apologizing for the girls inability to do the task. None of them thought that they should have tested her so early. “She’s just a baby,” they kept saying over and over again. Draco frowned. They didn’t think she could do it.

Draco, wanting to prove that his child was special, decided that he would have to help her. He bent down, carefully so the baby didn’t slip from his arms, and retrieved the discarded wand. She giggled, thinking it was some sort of ride. “That’s a good girl,” he whispered soothingly. The Death Eaters were so busy falling all over themselves, contemplating Voldemort's wrath that none of them heard his voice. “We can do this, right? Show them your stuff, little one.”

Draco put the wand in her tiny hand by gently wrapping his large one around hers. “Ready?” he cooed. She didn’t respond. She was, after all, an infant and didn’t understand what he was saying. Draco smiled tenderly at his daughter as he started moving her wrist, and in the process, waving the wand.

A brilliant display of sparks gushed from the wand in amounts Draco had never seen before. They were all a shocking pink color that contrasted sharply with the dark ballroom. Their light filled the entire ballroom, which fit several hundred people for Narcissa’s parties. All the Death Eaters turned around to see what was happening. For once, they were all silent. The sparks, like tiny, pink stars in the sky, danced around the room like a fireworks display. It was a good ten minutes before the shower of pink died down. When it did, Draco was grinning broadly.

He didn’t notice Voldemort eying him suspiciously.

Soon, a rude Death Eater came and ripped his daughter from his arms, which felt oddly cold without her presence. That night, he heard her gurgling in Ginny’s room. “Don’t worry, baby,” she said loudly so the Death Eater outside could hear. “Those mean, ugly Death Eaters are gone now. You’re safe with me.”

* * *

Draco wasn’t keen on attending anymore clandestine Death Eater meetings. He had gotten to see his daughter, that was all he wanted out of them. He had been tempted to take the girl and run off with her in his arms. He had decided not to because he didn’t want to leave Ginny behind, nor did he think he had a icecube’s chance in hell to escape with so many Death Eaters standing around watching him.

Since that night he had been planning two things. The first, and most important, was how he was going to get Ginny, the baby and get out of Malfoy Manor without being caught. That alone would take all his cunning and lying but he was confident that he could pull it off. After all, he was a Malfoy. The second thing would be a little easier but no less dangerous. He had to think of a reason he couldn’t join the Death Eaters.

A few weeks after that night in the ballroom, his father had announced that Draco was to attend an early morning meeting the next day. He stayed up all night thinking of a good lie. He had a feeling that faking a cold wouldn’t cut it. Even Narcissa didn’t always believe him when he pulled that one. And he got the feeling that ‘true Death Eaters’ would do whatever their Lord asked of them even on their death bed. Draco couldn’t imagine that kind of devotion to the wretched, old bastard.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost time. He hadn’t slept at all but he hadn’t thought of anything either. He cursed. He used to be so good at thinking up sneaky plans to get himself out of trouble, or more accurately, sneaky plans to get other people in trouble. Now, he had nothing. He was seriously considering breaking a bone or possibly several.

The clock outside ticked off the hour in strong, even tones. Draco groaned audibly. He could hear cloaks sweeping across the floor as the Death Eaters passed his door. He resigned himself to the fact that he would have to attend this meeting and got ready as slowly as he could. His mirror just stared blearily back at him, silently wondering what Draco was doing up at that hour. Draco tried to screw up his face. It looked like he was in for another day of pretending to be mini-Lucius.

They would meet in the ballroom, like before. Draco shuffled his feet as he walked, delaying the inevitable until the last possible moment. The first thing that met his ears as he descended the stairs was yelling. The Death Eaters were bickering amongst themselves. Voldemort had not yet arrived. Draco stepped back. He didn’t enter the room. He stood a few feet away from the door, watching them.

The only men not partaking in the brawl were his father, who was glaring at the others distastefully, and Professor Snape, who was standing off away from the others staring off into the night as if he weren’t part of the group.

“It’s time!” cried Macnair angrily. He gestured his hands emphatically so that his hood fell of his head. “She’s of no use anymore.”

Draco scowled his patented scowl. He knew they must be talking about Ginny. Many of the Death Eaters were of the opinion that all they needed her for was to have the baby. Now, she had done that and they wanted to get rid of her. Draco was sure “getting rid of her” didn’t mean sending her on vacation to someplace sunny either.

“The Dark Lord hasn’t given us any orders,” stammered Wormtail who didn’t have enough courage to take one side or the other. “We should wait for his word.” No one appeared to hear him.

“She’s a liability...” Macnair muttered obviously put off.

Suddenly from across the room, a harsh voice spoke up to shut him up. “And who is going to take care of the child if you kill her?“ Snape asked sharply in the same tone Draco had heard him use when Neville Longbottom didn’t know the difference between eye of newt and eye of salamander. “You, Macnair?” he scoffed. Macnair avoided his probing gaze. “You just want to kill everything that moves,” he concluded. “Lucky you got that job as executioner or you’d be in Azkaban for sure. No brains.”

Macnair was livid. He was so angry that he was at a loss for words. Snape continued to stare at him menacingly, daring him to say something. Even the hardened executioner seemed to crumbled under Snape’s death glare. If there was one thing Severus Snape was good at it was telling people off. When he gave you that look, you shut up and fast.

Out in the hall, Draco offered up a small thanks and cheers for his former Potions professor. Everyone else was either too cowardly to stand up to Macnair or didn’t care one way or another if Ginny died. He wondered briefly why Snape did. He had never liked the Weasleys, or anyone for that matter. But then again, Draco had never liked Ginny either and he would’ve blocked the door to her room with his own body if it had come to that.

“Perhaps we should take the child away from the girl,” Lucius spoke up thoughtfully. “Then she won’t get so attached.”

Draco snorted. He had only seen the kid once and he was already more attached than he could’ve dreamed possible. He doubted Ginny was any different. Taking her away a few hours out of the day wouldn’t make any difference. Of course, his father didn’t know much about attachment to his children so one couldn’t blame him for making such an asinine comment.

Macnair brushed passed the others. “I’ll go get the child,” he announced. Before he could exit the dusty ballroom, Snape held up a stiff hand to block him.

The Professor glared so that one would think he was the killer. “If you kill her, Macnair, the Dark Lord will not be pleased,” he said warningly.

Macnair shook him off irritably. He didn’t respond with a snappy comment, which lead Draco to believe that he was going to be a good boy. He was probably scared witless of Snape, he reasoned.

When Macnair entered the hallway, Draco pretended that he had just arrived for the meeting not wanting him to know he had been standing outside eavesdropping. Macnair, however, didn’t notice him at all. He stalked past muttering under his breath. Draco had a feeling he didn’t like being told what to do. His stomach lurched in his body as he watched the older man disappear up the stairs. Perhaps, they shouldn’t let Macnair go up there alone. He might do things that Draco would regret.

He was about to go after the Death Eater when he heard his father call from inside the ballroom. “Draco! Get in here!” He looked longingly in the direction Macnair had just gone, wishing he had been a bit sneakier and that his father didn’t have such an eagle eye.

All the Death Eaters turned to watch him enter the room. Some wore expressions of distrust; others of out right loathing. He heard some whisperings about what had happened last time they had met. Draco wasn’t supposed to have shown any affection for his daughter. He wasn’t even supposed to think of her as his daughter.

Draco held his head high and looked them all in the face. They could all go jump off a turret for all he cared. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Draco,” his father said frostily, “we have much to discuss.”

He couldn’t help but smirk. He wasn’t sure his father knew the meaning of the word ‘discuss.’ He usually just did whatever he wanted. Lucius didn’t see what was funny. His face turned from even and unfeeling into a frown. “Yes, Father?” he chirped, his voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

Lucius furrowed his brow. He wouldn’t stand for his only son being insolent in front of his peers. But he continued despite himself, not wanting to make a scene. “The Dark Lord wishes --”

A din in the hallway cut Lucius off. He closed his mouth rapidly. Everyone turned to see Macnair fling open the doors to the ballroom again. He was flushed from running down the stairs. Veins were popping out of his forehead from anger. He looked left and right suspiciously at ever person in the room. His eyes lingered over Draco and Snape a bit longer than anyone else.

“Walden?” Lucius sputtered curiously. “What --?”

For a second time, the executioner cut Draco’s father off. “She’s gone!” he cried irately. “The Weasley girl is gone! And she’s taken our Lord’s heir!”

Draco staggered as if someone had hit him. Ginny had escaped? But how? He was torn between being joyous and frightened. She had escaped that meant she and the baby were safe. But she had escaped without him. She would go into hiding now. No one would be able to find her, especially not him. He might never see his child again!

The other Death Eaters began shouting questions at Macnair and shouting at each other. There was generally a lot of shouting. They were more frightened at what the Dark Lord would do to them when he found out the baby was missing than anything. None of them cared for her safety.

Macnair held up his hand so he could continue his tirade. “I found Mulciber on the floor of her room. She took his wand and knocked him unconscious.” Inwardly, Draco cheered Ginny. If she had a wand then she’d be more likely to survive her flight and because he had always wanted to give that goon a good whack.

Mass confusion ensued. They all started accusing each other of helping Ginny escape. No one but Draco was willing to believe that she was capable of sneaking out herself. He thought it rather funny that the idea had never occurred to them. She had been locked away in the same place for nearly eleven months now. Surely she would’ve come up with some idea as how to get out. Her twin brothers had been masters of sneaking around Hogwarts, they had probably taught her a thing or two. Draco was also completely confident that he was the only one who had given thought to helping her escape and that meant that she had done it on her own.

The Death Eaters continued yelling unintelligibly until a sharp call from Lucius Malfoy quieted them all down. He was never one to let confusion reign in his house. He liked things ordered and planned. He also liked taking charge and didn‘t waste anytime doing just that. “Don’t just stand there bickering with one another. FIND HER!”

Pop! Pop! Pop! The Death Eaters disapparted in groups vowing to search the grounds of Malfoy manor and the surrounding areas for Ginny. She couldn’t apparate yet so she couldn’t have gotten far, they reasoned. Draco hoped the Malfoy’s large, guard dogs had large, Death Eater-sized meals that morning.

Draco felt a firm hand on his shoulder. His father was looking down at him with an unreadable statement. “I didn’t help her,” he said truthfully. He left out the part where he wished he had. There were some things his father needn’t know. His father searched his face. Then, finding no trace of deception, nodded his head grimly.

About a half an hour later, Draco and Lucius were still standing silently in the ballroom. Draco didn’t want to talk to his father at a time like this. He didn’t even want to look at him but he had to stay in the ballroom in case there was any news. Lucius was busying himself by looking important and ordering around any Death Eater he could find. It occurred to Draco, that his father fancied himself Voldemort’s second in command. He probably wasn’t too keen to be knocked out of that prized spot by a baby who was only weeks old. This made Draco smile.

While Draco was gloating, Macnair reappeared in the ballroom. He had a tattered piece of cloth in his hands and he wore an statement that Draco couldn’t make out. It was part fear, part anger and part disbelief. He swallowed hard when he looked at Draco and Lucius. Draco got the impression that he didn’t want to say whatever it was he had to say.

Slowly, he raised the cloth in his hand. Draco grabbed the fireplace for support. Now he recognized it. It was the pink blanket that his daughter had been wrapped in. Now it was caked in blood and dirty and had been ripped to shreds.

“They’re dead,” whispered Macnair hoarsely.

* * *

Draco slammed the door of his bedroom so hard the painting of Malfoy Manor circa 1500 fell hard from its spot on the wall, shattering its frame. At first he couldn’t believe it. Ginny dead? Never. Then he had been despondent. His daughter was dead! All it had taken was one look at the spotless room to throw him into a frenzy.

There were expensive clothes in the closet. The furniture was top quality. It had all been in his family for centuries. The ornaments that adorned the dresser were priceless. The four-poster bed had once belonged to the King of England. The room itself was worth more money than Ginny Weasley had ever seen in her life. It was the kind of place most people could only dream of and work tirelessly for years hoping that one day they could live amongst these objects.

But Draco didn’t want any of them.

There was only one thing he wanted. There was only one thing he had ever wanted. He would give all these things up if he could just have his daughter back; if he could just hold her one more time. He had never even known her name, but still she was the one person he had truly loved in his life. He hadn’t known it until he had looked into her eyes. At that moment it had been perfectly clear: his heart belonged with that little girl.

“Rough day?” his mirror asked sleepily noticing his red face.

It was that moment that Draco snapped. He turned to the mirror with utter contempt. None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t be so unfortunate to have been born a Malfoy. He would probably be at his job somewhere, maybe out with his girlfriend. One day, he’d have a child. That child’s mother would never feel the need to flee at dawn only to meet her death with men in hoods chasing after her. If he weren’t Draco Malfoy then his daughter would still be alive.

With an enraged cry, Draco lashed out. His arm struck one of the posters of his bed. His hand went clear through the wood causing it to break in two under the force. Without the support, the canopy crashed onto the mattress.

“Er, you really enjoy breaking things, don’t you?” his mirror observed nervously.

In response, Draco picked a long piece of broken wood. Twirling it in his hands like a baton, he approached the mirror who was looking for a way out to no avail. Draco’s first swing landed precisely in the center of the mirror. It shattered into hundreds of pieces that fell across the floor. He didn’t stop there, still wielding his mighty stick, he broke every single ornament and knick-knack on his dresser. He pulled out all the drawers and flung their contents out the window, which was still closed. There was a loud shattering sound as the first drawer hit the glass then a weak thud when it landed.

He ripped through the room. He had lots of things. Nothing was important. It was all just stuff that didn’t matter in the least to him. Most of it he only got because it was the best of the things he didn’t really want. His mind kept flashing back to his daughter. He imagined her crying because she was frightened as Ginny screamed before their lives were snuffed out.

Every time he saw her little face, his mind filled with more anger. As a result, he pounded his stick harder and harder trying to beat it out of himself. The wall had a large hole in it now. He didn’t really remember how it got there. His mind was such a haze of fury and pain. He didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his face or that he had been cut with some shards from the mirror and blood was dripping down his arm.

It felt like fire within him. He was just trying to put it out. Nothing helped. Every time he swung his stick he just got madder and madder. The flames kept licking at his heels. He couldn’t escape them. They were eating away at his insides, consuming him whole. He couldn’t think rationally anymore. There was only stuff that was broken and stuff to be broken to him. Maybe he just wanted to make it feel the same hurt he was.

Say, there was an idea. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his wand. “Incendio,” he whispered malevolently. Bright orange flames erupted from his wand tip. Draco basked in the glow of the fire smiling wickedly. He pulled open the door to his closet getting more pleasure from the act than he should have.

He was about to send all of his nice, dress robes up in smoke when his eyes fell on something lying forgotten in the back of the closet. It was his old Nimbus 2001 broomstick. It silently offered him escape. There really wasn’t any reason to stay anymore. Since he had arrived he had wanted nothing more than to leave. He had only remained the last few months because of Ginny and the baby.

With his heart hammering in his chest, Draco put out the fire in his wand and at the same time, the fire in his soul. He could get out. He shoved his wand back into his pockets and grabbed only the few items he wanted: the key to his own personal vault at Gringotts, a few old Hogwarts robes and the blanket he had bought his daughter for Christmas, which he couldn’t bring himself to leave behind. It was the only thing he had of hers.

He never looked back as he flew out the broken window.

* * *

“Where is Draco?” Narcissa asked her husband pleasantly at breakfast. She was completely unaware that today was anything but a normal morning.

Lucius swallowed a bit of fruit. “In his room,” he answered without looking up. He wasn’t much in the mood for chit chat due to the day’s earlier events. Voldemort would have somebody’s head for this and he was trying to think of a way to make sure it wouldn’t be his.

“Oh.” Narcissa turned to look at the doorway again as if she were expecting her son to appear any moment. When he didn’t, she returned to her food which she picked at unhappily.

“Have you seen him today?” she asked still worried. She looked up at her husband waiting for his response. Her eyes didn’t meet the same scene as before. She shrieked and nearly fell over in surprise. They weren’t alone anymore. There was a man, and horrible, disfigured man who looked more like a snake than anything else standing at Lucius’ end of the table. She hadn’t heard him apparate.

Voldemort turned to look at her curiously. He had never met Lucius’s wife. She was pretty, no, gorgeous and she obviously didn’t think the same thing about him. She was leaning backwards in her chair trying to get as far away from him without standing up and running from the room. A woman like her was too well disciplined for a display like that. She found him repulsive but still refused to be frightened.

“My Lord!” Lucius stood up respectfully.

“Lucius.” Voldemort greeted him coolly, his red eyes still turned in the direction of Narcissa. “We have a problem.”

“Yes, yes,” he sputtered. “I’m well aware of the situation. I, of course, had nothing to do with her escape, my lord. Macnair only informed me after she was already dead.”

Dead? Narcissa mouthed the word. Who was dead?

To both Malfoys’ complete surprise, Voldemort started to laugh his high, cruel laugh. For the first time he turned to his Death Eater. “No. She’s not dead.” He laughed again. “She’s clever; thought she could fool me. I was, for a little while,” he admitted sounding rather impressed with Ginny more than anything else. “Then I felt it, just as strong as it was the day she was born. The child has power, Lucius and I can sense it. She’s alive. And if the child is alive then the mother must be too.”

Lucius looked nothing short of astonished. For once in his life, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He couldn’t even act superior or blame it on someone else. Narcissa, who was just regaining her voice, spoke up for him.

“The child?” she asked meekly. Voldemort looked at her again. She was completely in the dark.

“You don’t know?” he asked the bewildered woman. Narcissa gave no reply. “She doesn’t know?” he asked Lucius. Surely Narcissa would’ve figured something was going on. It had, after all, all happened in her home.

“My wife and I have an, er, arrangement,” he said sheepishly. “I don’t involve her in my business then should anything happen to me she can honestly say she didn’t know a thing about it. It’s best that way; she can’t reveal my secrets.”

Voldemort nodded. He agreed. Aurors often used truth potions or other means on friends and family of suspected Death Eaters to find out information. The less people that knew, the better. Malfoy was the most slippery of the Death Eaters. He took every precaution necessary to make sure he was never caught. He’d rather die that be put to shame.

“Well,” he said in a pleased sort of way. Now that Narcissa knew part of the plan, she might as well know it all. “You husband has been aiding me in a particularly important task.” Her face still registered no understanding, so the Dark Lord continued. “He kidnapped Ginny Weasley and imprisoned her in your old guest room. Then we impregnated her with my heir.” he said bluntly as if Lucius had just gone to the market and picked up some bread. Narcissa covered in her mouth in horror. “Unfortunately, she escaped with the baby this morning. She faked her own death in order to evade the Death Eaters.”

He returned his attention to Lucius. “Which leads me to you, old friend,” he said in a manner that let it be known that they weren’t ‘friends’ but that Lucius would do his bidding. “The girl must be found. I need that heir. The other Death Eaters let her get away once and I would like someone,” he searched for the right word, “a bit more intelligent heading up the effort.”

Lucius beamed. Narcissa found him to look like a dog basking in the praise of his master. It was revolting. “Of course, my Lord,” he exclaimed. “I will retrieve the girl for you.”

“You can employ any Death Eater you wish,” Voldemort said lazily. He was counting on Lucius to perform this task for him, as he had bigger plans to deal with.

“Thank you, my Lord,” he said thinking of which Death Eaters would aid him in the search for Ginny. The Dark Lord obviously wanted this to be done quietly which meant he would have to be sneaky. Then a thought struck him. “Draco!” Who was more sneaky than his own son? “Draco will help me.”

Narcissa frowned. Lucius didn’t notice. Voldemort laughed.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he said still chuckling.

Malfoy bristled. “Why not?”

“I’m afraid to say, he’s not the credit to the Cause you think he is, Lucius.” Behind both of the men’s backs, Narcissa grinned. Lucius looked crestfallen. He had hoped his son would take his spot in the circle when he was not around. Nonplussed, Voldemort continued. “And he has formed an unfortunate attachment to the child.”

Narcissa opened her mouth to speak again. How had her son gotten attached to this child? She hadn’t even known it existed.

The Dark Lord answered her before the words left her lips. “You didn’t know about that either, did you?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Lucius used his own spell, a mix of the Imperius Curse and Passion Potion if I’m not mistaken, and used your son to father the child,” he said almost gleefully, but Lord Voldemort is not gleeful.

Narcissa gasped. She looked as though she were about to throw up. “Lucius...” she breathed in disbelief and horror.

Her husband either didn’t notice her distress or didn’t care. He resumed his conversation with Voldemort. “Yes, I’ve seen that he has feelings for the child. But, my Lord, I will make him see that he’s not his child. Draco is a very bright boy, he’ll be of use to me.”

The Dark Lord shook his head. “He isn’t devoted to me, Lucius. He’s too proud and he cares too much for his line. It’s a flaw of character that I believe can be attributed to how he was raised,” he glanced surreptitiously at Narcissa. “No fault of your own of course. He’s protective of the family name. He wouldn’t have handed the child over to me. It’s better this way.”

“What way?” Lucius did not understand what his Master was getting at.

“Your son decided there isn’t any reason for him to stay here. He ruined all his things and run away,” Voldemort explained calmly.

There was a sharp intake of breath and a loud thud as Narcissa fainted dead away. Both men turned to look at her, but neither made a move to help her up.

* * *

STILL MORE NOTES: Wasn’t that fun? Heh. This is the part where I congratulate myself for getting through it all. The first three chapters are one part of the fic, and after this it goes into another part. Get ready for a gear shift.

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DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling created the majority of the characters that appear in this fan fiction and they are now owned by her, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. I get no profit from using them and hope to god she won’t sue me. Once Upon Dream is from the film “Sleeping Beauty,” The music and lyrics are by Sammy Fain and Jack Lawrence and are used without permission. (Again, hoping not to be sued.)
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This chapter took a LONG time to write. Probably because it’s important. New setting, new direction, etc. I hope you guys don’t hate it. Or hate me because of this:

Five Years Later...

Draco Malfoy trudged dejectedly along the cobbled stones that decorated the old walkway. A few people pushed him from behind but he didn’t bother telling them off. He hadn’t been in the mood for shouting for a long, long time. Besides, the square was always full of Muggles this time of day; he was used to it. They all jostled each other and rushed about; they were always in such a hurry. It was mostly mothers out doing their shopping barely paying any attention to their screaming children.

He wasn’t sure why he insisted on doing this, why he kept torturing himself by coming back again and again. Every time he came here, the same dull ache erupted inside of his chest until he thought it might kill him and he would have to go home. Then he’d lie on his bed trying to convince himself not to go back the next day. It never worked. He always came back. He’d stand, apart from everyone else, and just watch. Every young child, little girls in particular, they all made him feel something that he had never felt before: a great sense of longing. It was like when you were hungry and you had a vague idea of what you wanted, but the kitchens didn’t serve it so the hunger just kept gnawing away at you.

All his life he had never wanted for anything. Money, clothes, toys, and girls were all his. But he had never really cared for any of it. Money was spent. Clothes were ripped. Toys were broken. Girls were tossed aside.

And then for one brief moment, he had something that he had really wanted. Something that he had really loved. He never even knew her name; he only got to hold her once. But he knew from the first time he heard her cry that he loved her. It was a foreign feeling that took awhile to pin down. Love. How strange it was. Had he ever loved anything before or since? He knew, deep down, the answer was clearly ‘no.’

After that day, that horrible day when his daughter had died, he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed for a long time. Whenever he’d start to feel better, something else would bring him back down. He didn’t have any friends or family to help him through it either. As a result, there was a lot of wallowing and brooding. He’d just lay back and make himself miserable until he couldn’t deal with the pain anymore and would have to make himself a sleeping potion to finally get some peace.

Only recently had he become seized with this strange urge. He was compelled to go from town to town. After a few days in each town, he’d somehow realize it wasn’t the right place and move on. Where was the right place? He didn’t know. It was like he had an itch to scratch but couldn’t reach it. So there he was, in his third town that week, standing in the center of the market, gawking at all the little children.

He wondered what the people he knew at Hogwarts would say if they could see him now. There he was, cold and alone, standing in the middle of a crowded street, feeling as if no one really was near him. They would probably be glad he was miserable. He deserved it after the way he had treated everyone else. Draco didn’t agree. He didn’t think anyone deserved this. He wished he were as guarded and unfeeling as he had been at Hogwarts. Then he wouldn’t be in such a state.

He was only twenty-four years old but he wore an expression that made him look three times his age. He examined the children with dull, gray eyes. Most of the parents would hustle their kids to the other side of the street to avoid him and would keep eyeing him suspiciously from across the street. Obviously, he wasn’t quite so charming looking as he once had been.

To the left of him, an older woman was yelling at a young boy. He wondered briefly if she had ever stopped to consider what she had in that boy and if she did, if she would be screaming at him like that. He supposed most parents didn’t have the time to sit around and think about what it would be like if their baby were dead. They were probably run ragged, beaten, tired, and hoarse from shouting. Not like Draco, who hadn’t really done anything since he had left his home five years ago. Except perhaps, wander around playgrounds, squares and school grounds where he could feel the weight of what he had lost and wait for the day when they’d be together again.

Up ahead, a tiny girl with glowing pigtails was bouncing up and down excitedly as she waited for her mother, who was wearing a large, straw hat and appeared to be looking through her bag for something.

“Let’s go, Mummy, I’m bored,” she whined.

The mother laughed. “In a minute, sweetie.” She didn’t look up at the girl but Draco couldn’t stop looking at her.

He couldn’t see the woman’s face, but Draco bet she was young. Like Ginny would’ve been if she had lived. The child was about the right age too. She was probably four or five. The girl’s pigtails shone in the midday sun; they were strawberry blonde -- a little bit red and a little bit blonde. This was how he pictured his own daughter when he lay asleep at night. Then he’d wake up. There was one important, and painful, difference between this child and his own: this child was full of energy, of life, and his wasn’t. His was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. The word echoed in his head.

“Where are we going now?” the girl asked inquisitively. She was hopping up and down as she spoke, almost as if she had jumping beans in her stomach and simply couldn’t stand still. Her eyes were darting back and forth like she was trying to get a good look at every single person in the square. Sometimes her eyes would sort of glaze over and she’d stare off into space like she was seeing something only she could. But she never stopped hopping. She was so alive.

“Back to the hotel,” the woman answered, still bent over pulling things out of her bag.

Draco stood rooted in that spot, watching the little girl. He knew he was being creepy and weird but he couldn’t help it. He had never seen a child that had looked so much like his daughter would have. He felt almost like she was his. His insides yearned for him to go over and take her into his arms. The same feeling he had when he had heard his daughter cry through the thick walls of Malfoy Manor so many years ago. If he could just stand there and never move, then everything would be okay. He could pretend things were all right and be happy. But he knew they’d leave, and then he’d be alone again.

Still, he could dream. In his mind, the little girl was his. They were out for a day of shopping with Ginny, who was the woman searching for something in her bag. They’d walk along the street looking in all the store windows and when the girl saw something she wanted, of course, Draco would buy it for her. Maybe when they walked, he would hold one hand, Ginny the other and together they would swing her back and forth. She’d shriek and giggle like it was a ride. Then they’d go eat in the restaurant down the street a ways, Draco would go get the food for them while his family waited patiently and when he’d come back with it, the child would say:

“Hi Daddy!”

The voice in his head was so real, too real. He tried to shake himself out of his reverie and pay attention to the here and now. It was then that Draco realized he wasn’t day dreaming anymore. The little girl was waving merrily. Her little, round face was pulled up in the biggest smile he had ever seen, almost like she was overjoyed to see him.

Shell-shocked, Draco didn’t know what to do. The rational part of his brain told him to politely tell the girl that he wasn’t her father. But the dream was so vivid, so clear in his mind, he found himself smiling back at her. It wasn’t wrong to allow himself this one indulgence, was it? If it was possible, she grinned even wider and began waving with both hands.

The mother gasped, breaking the spell the child had over him. She grabbed the girl to herself protectively, the way the other mothers had done when they saw him. Then for the first time since he had been standing there, the mother looked up into his face.

Draco felt his heard plummet into the cobbled stone he was walking on. He knew that face. She was older too, but unmistakably the same girl. “Ginny,” he breathed, completely unable to comprehend it. It was her. It was really her. His mind wasn’t playing tricks this time. She was alive.

Alive. Alive. Alive. The word echoed in his head.

Ginny looked at Draco, utter terror written all over her face. Without a moment’s hesitation, she snatched the little girl into her arms and took off down the street, leaving the contents of her bag splayed across the walkway. People yelped as she pushed past them in an effort to put as much distance between them as possible.

At first he didn’t know what to do. He watched her retreating form in disbelief. He was so stunned by what he had just seen. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think.

Then it hit him. He was about to lose them again.

Without another thought, he took off after them at full speed, praying he wasn‘t too late.

He heard the shoppers exclaiming as he ran by but he didn’t process what they were saying. They didn’t matter. They were just blurs of color as he passed. The only thing that he really saw was Ginny. The wind whipped her hat off her head revealing her distinctive Weasley hair, confirming what he already knew… It was Ginny. Her hair flew behind her like a flag waving in the breeze. The bright color shown in the midday sun making it stand out from everything else. He was glad, it gave him something to follow.

“Hey!” a man yelped as Draco collided with him, causing him to drop two, large sodas he was holding. Draco didn’t apologize. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He was halfway down the street by the time the man looked up to see what had happened.

“Daddy!” Draco could swear he heard the little girl yell over the mindless chatter of the masses. He could see his daughter’s little hand reaching out from Ginny’s arms. She was reaching out to him.

The simple motion gave him a new burst of energy. He had never run so hard and so fast in his life. Malfoys weren’t known for their physical exertion. His legs seemed to be moving on their own accord. It was almost like riding a broomstick. Ginny’s red-gold hair was the Snitch in the distance. He dove after her without thinking; acting only on instinct. There would be celebration if he caught her. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t.

Just like the Snitch, however, Ginny was proving illusive. She was quick; he had to give her that. She dove in and out of shops and wove her way through the sea of people expertly while they only got in Draco’s way. No matter how hard he ran her fiery hair only got farther and father away. Determined not to let her slip out of his grasp again, Draco pushed on. He had spent too many years dreaming of the day he’d see her again; he refused to let her out of his sight. Her hair was only a pinprick of gold in the distance now. His lungs felt as if someone had filled them with lead. His body needed to stop, but he didn’t care. If it killed him, he would find them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the red flash that was Ginny dart into a doorway. He pushed himself harder and harder to get there in time. Panting heavily, Draco flung himself through the doorway. There throngs of people all trying to get out the same door he had come in met him. They pushed him roughly out of the way as he stood on his tiptoes and craned his neck trying to spot Ginny. He couldn’t figure out which way she had gone. The building was filled with passages and staircases. Some of them lead up, some lead down, but he was sure they all lead somewhere different. Ginny could’ve used any one of them.

Even if he did know which way she had gone, it still wouldn’t be an easy task to locate her. He looked left and right. Now he knew why she had picked this particular place. It was filled with Muggles, all shopping, talking and getting in his way. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Scratch that, needles were too large and haystacks were too small. It was like looking for a grain of sand on a beach.

Draco cursed loudly causing some women to look at him in horror and cover their children’s ears. He grabbed a nearby bench to stand on. He looked in vain for several minutes before finally admitting to himself that she had gone. Miserably, he assumed a normal, sitting position on the bench. Now what?

He still couldn’t believe what had just happened. For the last five years he had thought her dead. Then he found himself face-to-face with her. It was the first time he had actually laid eyes on her since the baby had been born. He kicked a small stone on the ground around. She must think I’m in with Voldemort, he realized. She had probably been running all these years, trying to stay one step ahead of the Dark Lord.

Trying to keep their baby safe...

He couldn’t imagine what that was like. No wonder she had looked so frightened when their eyes had met. He closed his eyes and played the scene over in his head. It was still vivid in his mind. He could picture everything that had happened perfectly like it was a moving photograph. Her first instinct had been to grab the girl, not to fight or protect herself. It had been a knee jerk reaction. She didn’t think anything about crushing the girl into her arms and taking off. She hadn’t given a second thought to the bag that she had been so wrapped up in before she had seen him.

Immediately, Draco stood up as if he had sat on something hot. Her bag! She had left her bag where they had been standing. There might be something in there that he could use to find them again! He rushed back out into the street, hoping someone hadn’t picked it up. It was now the only thing that could link him to his daughter. That ratty, old purse had been transformed into the Holy Grail of his fatherhood.

To his relief, it was lying exactly where she had left it. No one had bothered with it. Some of the contents had fallen out. Draco scurried to retrieve them. He looked down at the items in his hand. They were jars of makeup that he didn’t recognize. Some girl thing, he mused. Inside the bag, there were the usual emergency items: an umbrella, tissues, extra cash, some bandages, Muggle medicine and some other things that were obviously Ginny’s. The things that caught his eye were buried deeper inside. He pulled out some faded books with large lettering and bright pictures on the front: children’s books.

He had never touched anything of his daughter’s before. He turned the first book over and flipped through the pages. Some of them were dog-eared and some of the pictures were colored on. It looked as though someone had read them a lot. The others were all the same. They were Fairy Tales. It seemed she particularly liked stories involving princesses. Those were the ones where the text was the most worn. It was almost illegible, like it didn’t matter because she knew them by heart.

The last one was particularly thick and old looking. Ginny probably had bought it used; he doubted she had a lot of money to spend. He imagined them sitting up at night while Ginny read aloud from the book and the little girl looked on with anticipation, silently mouthing the words as her mother spoke. The book was musty but had a faint smell of perfume on it. Some of the drawings were crude; he hoped Ginny didn’t show them to the girl. He flipped through the pages again as if hoping they would tell him a story about the people who had read the book.

Draco was amazed when, at the very end of the book, the pages offered up a piece of paper that had been folded over many times. He unfolded the paper like it was a present given to him on Christmas morning.

There, in the large, untidy lettering of a child just learning to write was the name of a hotel.

* * *

“Mummy?”

Ginny turned around from packing to look at her daughter. The girl looked so small compared to the large, hotel bed she sat on. Her pink attire was a stark contrast to the deep, blue bedspread. She sat, constantly swinging her legs, staring up at her mother with imploring eyes.

“What are you doing, Mummy?” she asked innocently, trying to get a good look from her perch.

“I’m packing,” Ginny answered as she threw some last-minute items into her suitcase. It never took long for her to pack. Probably since the suitcase had never been completely unpacked since she had bought it. “We’re leaving.”

The girl pouted, her lower lip jutting out from her face. “Why do we always have to leave?” She posed her question in such a way that made her mother’s heart break. They rarely stayed in one place for more than a few weeks, opting to keep moving so the Death Eaters wouldn’t be able to catch them. Ginny knew her daughter needed stability, a real home and friends but those were just things she couldn’t give her. “I want to stay!” she whined. “I like it here.”

Ginny sighed. She crouched down in front of the girl. “You know we can’t,” she whispered as she reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair. “Get your things,” she instructed sadly wishing more than anything that she could give her daughter what she wanted. The girl blinked her big, tear-filled eyes at her mother trying to appeal the decision. When her mother remained steadfast, she jumped down from the bed and retrieved her clothes and books without another complaint.

Ginny ventured into the bathroom where she slowly packed away their toothbrushes again. In the mirror she saw a tired woman forcing herself to do the simplest of actions. She wanted nothing more than to collapse on the floor and sob. It was just as difficult for her to pick up and move again as it was for her daughter. She was a person used to a strong, stable family unit and a caring home. There were days when she wished she could just go back and have her mother cook her meals; her brothers sit around the table telling stupid jokes and most of all for her father to hold her in his arms and tell her he would protect her. But she couldn’t give in to her desire to stay or it might result in losing her child forever. That scared her more than a million different hotel rooms ever could.

Tears fought their way into her eyes. Ginny fiercely tried to hold them back. Once she started, she’d never be able to stop. She was still trying to compose herself when a sharp knock at the door cut through the silence. “See who that is,” she instructed her daughter with a hoarse voice.

In the bedroom, the little girl approached the door with some of her clothes still in her hand. She stopped a few feet away from it to look at the wood quizzically as if it were a person about to introduce himself to her. She was too short to see through the peephole, but that didn’t matter.

Draco nervously stood behind the door. He had run back to his own hotel and retrieved a few necessary items then had come to the hotel named on the paper in the book. Sure enough, when he asked the desk if any redheaded woman with a young daughter was staying there they told him ‘yes.’ He needed to use a few charms to convince them to tell him the room number, but it had been worth it. Now he was standing outside their door, about to see his daughter for the second time in years.

The little girl pursed her lips as she debated what to tell her mother. She hated to lie, but it was the only way. “It’s the maid!” she finally said loudly. She innocently returned to her packing when her mother emerged from the bathroom to open the door.

“I’m sorry we don’t...” Ginny said as she opened it. She stopped abruptly when it revealed the silver-haired man behind it. Draco started to talk. She didn’t hear him. Ginny whipped around to look at the girl who was sitting next to her suitcase. When she saw Draco the girl’s face split into a wide smile.

“Daddy!” she cheered as she ran over, attaching herself to his leg.

He didn’t know how to react to the girl hugging him tightly. He patted her head gently. Her hair was silky smooth just like his. He smiled unconsciously. She looked so happy to see him. Ginny, on the other hand, was wearing an expression mixed with anger and confusion. She glared accusingly at the girl.

Draco would’ve quaked if his mother had looked at him like that. The girl just grinned and said sweetly, “He followed us home. Can we keep him?”

“Ginny, I...” Draco began. He had an entire speech planned. He even brewed some Veritaserum to prove he wasn’t lying. He wasn’t the type to go into these situations unprepared. It was a good thing he was a master at potions and could whip one up quickly.

Before he could even get to his third word, Ginny cut him off by lunging forward and grabbing his arm. She roughly prodded her finger into his forearm and said a spell that Draco had never heard before. When nothing happened, she furrowed her brow. She did it again, poking him so hard that she drew bright red blood but that was all that appeared.

Ginny turned her face up to his, searching for some kind of answers. Then the mask of confusion slowly broke. She looked from Draco to the little girl, who was still clutching his leg, like they were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally fit together. “You’re not a Death Eater,” she said flatly.

“No,” he replied with conviction even though he was sure her last statement hadn’t been a question.

“Can he stay?” the girl asked loudly, visibly irritated that her parents were not paying any attention to her.

Ginny hesitated for a moment. There really wasn’t any reason he couldn’t come with them if he wasn’t working for Voldemort. Her daughter obviously wanted a father as well. The only thing stopping her from saying ‘yes’ was Draco himself. She didn’t trust him. They had never gotten along well at Hogwarts, which could cause problems and he wasn’t exactly known for being the most caring person. What if he got bored of them and left?

Ginny looked down at her daughter who was bouncing up and down with anticipation. She would be crushed. She needed a father. She wanted a father. She deserved a father. Ginny didn’t want to be the one to break her little heart.

After a lot of inner dialogue Ginny finally muttered, “He can stay with us if he wants to.” Thus, leaving it up to Draco instead.

Draco and his daughter grinned broadly at each other. “Yay!” she cheered. In a flash, she had hopped over to the bed and begun to shimmy and shake in the cutest victory dance one could ever hope to see. Even Ginny couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Ginny hissed in his ear so only he could hear. With that, she closed the still open door behind him with a snap.

“I won’t,” he assured her.

Ginny still did not look convinced. She was going to be watching him very closely. If he gave her even the smallest reason to distrust him, then he was gone. She walked over to the bed and scooped up her baby. “Do we still hafta go?” the girl asked.

“No.” Ginny shook her head. “We can stay.”

Draco watched them with interest. He felt a pang in his stomach. They had been together for the last five years. He could only imagine the things they had done together in that time. He had missed so much of his daughter’s life. He was surprised, no, down right shocked that she even knew who he was. If only he had known she wasn’t dead, then he could’ve looked for them. But there was no fixing it now. Time moved on. He couldn’t change it.

When he snapped back into reality, he found Ginny looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read. It was as if she knew what he was thinking. But that wasn’t possible; no one ever knew what he was thinking. He had made sure of it by practicing keeping his face neutral in the mirror at home. It made for a better liar.

“Honey,” she said to the girl in a gentle voice. “Why don’t you play with,” she looked at Draco, “Dr- Daddy for a bit. I’m going to clean up.” They needed some time alone; Ginny knew it although she hated it. She retreated into the bathroom, for what Draco was sure was just busy work and not anything important. She didn’t close the door all the way.

He smiled nervously. Play with her? What did she like to do? He had just met her; he didn’t have any idea what to do with her. The girl turned to look at her father expectantly. It was then that he noticed her eyes. They were exceptionally large and gray, like his. Except where his were cold and harsh, hers were round and twinkling. He couldn’t explain it but this made him feel a tad bit better. At least a small part of him had always been with her.

Still, there were too many things he didn’t know. They were important too. Even a mediocre father would know them. “What’s your name?” he croaked, his eyes filling with tears that didn’t dare fall. He felt horrible. People she casually passed on the streets probably knew more about her than he did.

She clasped her hands behind her back and twisted back and forth. “Cassandra Molly Weasley-Malfoy,” she said proudly.

“That’s bigger than you are,” he whispered, ever so pleased she had added the “Malfoy” at the end.

“Mummy calls me Cassie,” she informed him knowledgeably. “It’s littler.”

“Cassie,” he repeated, testing out the way it felt on his tongue. “Cassie.”

He wanted to take in every bit of her so he would never forget. It was all new to him: her shiny, pig-tailed hair; her bright, gray eyes; her tiny, thin frame wrapped in a pink sundress; the way she never, ever stopped moving even when she was standing in one place. It was important that he knew it all. It proved she was real, not some dream. He was really standing in front of her.

They continued to stare at another. Draco got the impression that she was incredibly bored by him. All he did was sit and look at her intently, which couldn’t be much fun for a five year old. “So what do you want to play?” he asked hoping he wouldn’t mess it up, whatever it was. He wasn’t very good at games. He had never even played them when he was a child himself. His mum never wanted to get his clothes dirty and he never had many friends away.

“Wanna watch Sleeping Beauty?” she asked excitedly. He was so enthusiastic about it, he couldn’t say no even though he had no idea what she was talking about. He nodded while thinking, how does one watch Sleeping Beauty?

Cassie proceeded to grab his hand and haul him toward the bed with strength greater than that of a normal five-year-old, or so he thought. She sat him down on the edge and grinned at him cheekily before turning around. She busied herself by opening up the wooden dresser, revealing a large, black box that he didn’t recognize. Then she went to her pink bag, still all packed next to her mother’s, and pulled out a rectangular-shaped something that she put into an opening in the black box. The box made clicking noises.

Cassie wasn’t surprised by any of this. She climbed up onto the bed with him with great effort since she was so tiny. Then, after a moment’s debate, she crawled into his lap. She made quite a show of finding the perfect spot to sit and getting comfortable. Once said spot was found, she flashed him a brilliant grin. He grinned down at her. He hadn’t actually held her since that night back at the Manor. She was still pleasantly warm and soft, kind of like a large doll. He was a bit surprised at how far from awkward it was, almost like she belonged there. What was stranger was how quickly she had taken to him. He had thought for sure that she would be at least a little bit hesitant around him since they barely knew each other.

Draco didn’t have time to ponder what this all meant, because before long Cassie gasped. Her eyes were riveted to the black box, which wasn’t so black anymore. It was showing pictures and they were moving like wizard photographs. Unlike wizard photographs, the box seemed to be telling some sort of story. The people in the pictures weren’t confined to one frame and they talked. The whole thing made Draco uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be watching people’s lives like that, it wasn’t right. It was like spying.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Cassie asked nervously. She looked afraid that he didn’t want to play with her anymore.

“What is that?” he questioned warily.

It was somewhat embarrassing when his daughter started to laugh. “It’s a TV, Daddy,” she explained. “Muggles watch it. It tells stories, like a book with lots of pictures. See?” She pointed at a blonde woman walking across the screen. “That’s Princess Aurora. She’s Sleeping Beauty,” she said it reverently. Sleeping Beauty was obviously someone who deserved great respect.

At little while into the movie, Draco started to relax. It was more like a wizard painting than anything. The people were drawn onto the box but they moved and spoke like regular people. Cassie kept pointing to the people and explaining things to him. (“That’s Maleficent. She’s bad.”... “See Prince Philip? Isn’t he handsome?”) She was in complete awe of everything before her and didn’t take her eyes off it for a second lest she’d miss a bit.

Draco couldn’t really get into it. It was such a sugar coating of the original tale. And parts of it were so unbelievable. The fairies looked like people with little wings sticking out, nothing like real fairies. And why did they have wands? Fairies couldn’t do wizard magic. For Cassie’s sake however, he kept his mouth shut. He actually spent more time watching her reaction than he did watching the movie. He wore the same rapt, glassy eyed expression when he looked at her that she did when Aurora would come on screen.

He found it particularly amusing that on various occasions, the characters would burst into song. Cassie, on the other hand, didn’t think it was funny. She thought it was wonderful and she’d sing along, loudly and off key.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream,” she sang out proudly. “I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. But I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”°

Maybe it was because he had spent the last few years in a waking dream, just waiting to die. Or maybe it was because Draco’s life had changed so much that day. One minute he was pretending his daughter was still alive and the next she was. Now she was sitting in his lap singing cutely. No one had ever been so glad to see him in his entire life, nor had he ever been so glad to see someone else. Whatever the reason, as Cassie belted out the rest of the song, which was really the first part of the song repeated, “But if I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream,” Draco was startled to find tears trickling down his face. He quickly tried to wipe them away, afraid that Ginny would come out and see him crying. It was an old habit it had; he didn’t want anyone to see his weakness.

Cassie didn’t turn around to see him but she snuggled closer up against him. He wrapped his arms around her hoping that he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow and find that this had all been a dream.

Fortunately, by the time Ginny reemerged from the other room, his tears had dried up. Cassie was bouncing up and down on his lap as Prince Charming fought the evil sorceress. Ginny looked from Draco to her daughter with a smile. He hadn’t bolted, that was a good sign. And he had sat through all of Sleeping Beauty to boot. Ginny had started refusing to watch it with her daughter. The first hundred times had been enough.

Cassie still hadn’t noticed her mother, as she was so focused on the movie. She always acted as though she had never seen it before and didn’t know what was going to happen. Her little eyes widened in fear as the big, black dragon nearly got Prince Philip.

Ginny sniggered. “Now sword of truth fly swift and sure. That evil die and good endure!” she quoted dramatically in time with the movie. The two adults laughed as Cassie oohed and ahhed at the ending. Ginny pretended to cry when Philip and Aurora kissed and she gave a loud sigh as she quoted, “Oh, I just love happy endings.”°

Cassie grinned widely when it was over. She turned around to her parents and said, “Isn’t that the bestest movie ever?”

* * *

“Cassie! Time for bed!” Ginny called out.

Cassie looked up at her from where she was telling her Daddy about the time her mum let her try on a dress just like Princess Aurora’s and how it had been really good for twirling around real fast. She was rather annoyed to be interrupted. “But Mum!” she whined.

“You can tell me tomorrow,” Draco offered after seeing the look on Ginny’s face.

“Okey,” the little girl said brightly as she ran off to get ready for bed.

“She has too much energy,” Ginny sighed. “We’re gonna have to start feeding her sedatives.”

Suddenly they were enveloped in an uncomfortable silence due to her use of the word ‘we.’ Twenty-four hours ago Ginny had been a single mother and she was already thinking of them as a team. She knew she was mentally jumping the gun; there was a great possibility that Draco wouldn’t be around much longer. Either because he would leave or because would get sick of seeing his smirking face and kick him out. She and Draco weren’t known for getting along. Draco wasn’t known for getting along with anyone now that she thought about it. And it was hard enough for parents who loved each other to stay together. What chance did they have?

“I’m ready!” cried Cassie as she returned, proudly displaying her footy pajamas as if she were on a catwalk.

Ginny saw the smile dance across Draco’s face as Cassie entered. She hoped that meant they had some common ground to work from. That would help, no matter how much they hated each other.

“Get in bed,” Ginny instructed. “I’ll be there in a minute.” She again disappeared into the bathroom, presumably to get ready for bed.

With great effort, Cassie did what her mother said and climbed into the large, double bed. She waved at her father from under the covers. “You going to stay with us tonight, Daddy?” she asked sleepily.

He nodded mutely. He had packed up all his things and brought them over when he came. He didn’t ever intend on going back to the way he had been living. His suitcase was now sitting between Ginny’s tattered, old one and Cassie’s little, pink one. Cassie waved at him with just her hands and eyes peeking out from underneath the many blankets as he went to get his pajamas. He noticed that Cassie was taking up an awful lot of space in the double bed for such a tiny girl and there were only two beds.

That meant someone was going to have to share.

Ginny appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. The yellow light lit her from behind making her hair shine like a halo. “You can change in here,” she said gesturing behind her. “I’m finished.” He smiled gratefully. He hadn’t really wanted to change in front of his daughter. As they passed, he registered that she was wearing boxer shorts and a ratty, old t-shirt with the picture of a motorbike on the front and the words ‘If You Can Read This: The Wife Fell Off’ on the back.

Ginny certainly wasn’t the type of girl he was used to being around. She wasn’t dainty and didn’t own anything that was frilly, lacey or expensive. She cracked jokes and swore when Cassie wasn’t listening. She had spent the last five years living independent of any outside help and she had still managed to raise a happy, healthy, young girl. He wondered if all Gryffindors were like that.

As attractive as she was, he was rather glad to see her crawl into bed with Cassie who squealed and hugged her mother tightly. It would’ve been horribly uncomfortable to have to sleep in the same bed. He just didn’t know how to deal with her. He couldn’t charm her or seduce her. She wasn’t the kind of woman he’d fall in love with, in fact, he was pretty sure there was no kind of woman he’d fall in love with. He knew he should try to get along with her but he didn’t know how to go about becoming friends with her or with anyone for that matter. After all, they were bitter enemies until fate had intervened tied them together forever through the little girl who they had created.

Draco felt a bit uncomfortable after having dressed for bed. His pajamas were made of a rich, green silk that was only used by the finest robe makers. He still had his key to his own Gringotts vault that his mother had set up for him the year before Cassie had been conceived. Even though he didn’t spend half the money he used to, he was still used to a comfortable lifestyle. Ginny and Cassie, on the other hand, had been scraping by for the last few years.

Ginny had a hard time making and keeping money. She even admitted to having done something that most wizards thought was the absolute lowest you could sink. She did a street magic show. All you had do were simple spells like making light come out of your wand and the Muggles coughed the money up. But Ginny didn’t like to do that, so most of the time she did odd jobs, like cleaning houses, to make sure they always had enough money for the next train out of town. Neither girl had much in the way of material items. Everything they owned fit into two suitcases.

But they didn’t look up from their bed as Draco passed. Cassie was already splayed out across the sheets with her eyes tightly shut while Ginny was sitting up apparently her mind was elsewhere. He suddenly felt very foolish for thinking they’d care about something as silly as how much his clothes cost. And that nasty voice in the back of his head pointed out that Ginny wouldn’t know fine fabric if it jumped up and bit her. She had always worn used robes even when she had a family to support her.

They really were two very different people. Deep in thought, Draco lay down and switched off the light. He didn’t think he’d fall asleep quickly since he had so much on his mind. His theory was proven correct when a high-pitched, frightened scream erupted from the other side of the room.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeep!”

Panic flooded Draco. He immediately sat up in bed and turned the light on again. Worried that something had happened, he instinctively looked over to make sure Ginny and Cassie were all right. Ginny was whispering soothing words to a terrified Cassie, who was no more than two bright eyes peering out from behind her mother. She whimpered softly.

“Shhh,” Ginny murmured. “It’s all right, honey.” She stroked the girl’s back protectively. “I’m sure Daddy didn’t mean to turn off the light,” she said pointedly, glaring at Draco.

Draco sighed. All his regrets about how he didn’t know his daughter at all came flooding back to him. Seeing Cassie’s trembling figure only made him feel worse. He looked daggers at the light on the night table as if it was to blame, but in reality he knew it was no one’s fault but his own. He was her father. He should have known that she’s scared of the dark.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I...I wasn’t thinking.”

Cassie turned her large eyes on him like spotlights. She gasped. “Aren’t you afraid of the monsters?” she asked, in awe of his bravery.

“Honey,” Ginny spoke up trying to reassure Cassie that everything was ok. “There aren’t any monsters.”

“Yes there are!” The little girl said fervently. “They live under the bed and hide in the shadows! They come to get you when you’re sleeping!” She heaved a sigh trying to hold back the tears and be strong. “The bad man sent them.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper but nothing short of terrified. That was how he knew she was talking about Voldemort.

Ginny sighed. Instead of arguing, she hugged Cassie tighter. Draco got the impression that this was an ongoing battle, and that Ginny had given up fighting about it. Most young children were frightened of the dark, Cassie’s intense fear was probably related to the fact that they had been running from monsters her entire life. They’d never be able to convince her that they didn’t exist.

Draco knew they’d have a job of getting her to fall asleep now. She was holding on to Ginny for dear life so that Draco was sure Ginny was going to lose circulation in her extremities. And then, he had an idea. He leapt from the bed the moment it struck him. Ginny followed him with quizzical eyes. He went over to his bag and rummaged through it. It was buried at the bottom. He didn’t know why he had brought it. In fact, he never understood why he hadn’t tossed it out. Perhaps it was because he had never gotten to give it to her.

He turned around with a little, white blanket in his hands. It seemed like eons since he had bought it for her. He had sneaked away when he and Lucius had been out shopping for Christmas. She hadn’t even been born then. “Here,” he said holding it out to her. Cassie blinked. She looked from the blanket to her father and back again. “It has monster repelling powers,” he said knowledgeably.

“Wow,” she breathed as she took it to her, obviously impressed with the gift.

Ginny and Draco exchanged secretive glances behind her back. They both knew it was just an ordinary blanket but Cassie needn’t know that. They were willing to say anything if it would get her to go back to sleep. It was the mark of a true parent.

Cassie rubbed the blanket against her cheek. “It’s fuzzy!” she announced gleefully.

Draco grinned, pleased that he had finally done something right for a change. Cassie happily lay down, snuggled between her new blanket and her mother. Draco also returned to bed. This time he was careful not to turn the light out. He was going to have a hard time getting used to sleeping with the light on, but he supposed he could manage. It helped that he could now clearly see across the room. Cassie was pretending to be asleep but only for Ginny’s benefit. With her back turned, Ginny couldn’t see that Cassie’s teeny hand was waving at Draco.

* * *

About an hour after Cassie’s heavy breathing indicated that she had fallen fast asleep, Draco was still wide-awake. He had a lot on his mind and on top of that, he wasn’t used to going to bed so early. It had been years since he had the bedtime of a five-year-old. That wasn’t to say that the day hadn’t been emotionally and physically draining. His body ached for sleep but his mind kept turning things over and examining them from every boring angle. He had so many questions that needed to be answered.

“Can’t sleep either?” said a quiet voice from across the room, startling Draco.

Ginny rose to her feet slowly as she untangled herself from Cassie. “I suppose it’s a bit early for you,” she said gently as she sat down on the bed next to him. He sat up to make more room for her. “She can’t fall asleep unless I go with her.” she nodded her head towards the sleeping child. “Mostly, I just stay up and think about things while she’s out. Although sometimes she tires me out so I’m gone before she is,” she chuckled.

Draco nodded. He quite understood. Ginny looked away uncomfortably. The surreal quality of the situation was not lost on her. Somehow in the eerie, orange light of the lone lamp that light the room things looked even stranger than they had during the day. Neither one of them knew what to say although they were both dying to ask all the questions that had been plaguing them since Draco had shown up on Ginny’s doorstep.

“So...” Ginny started seeing that Draco wasn’t going to. “You weren’t working with Voldemort?” She spoke in hushed tones as to not wake Cassie.

“No,” he said emphatically. “My father put me under some spell...” he admitted sheepishly, since he was rather embarrassed that he had been so easily manipulated. “I assume that’s what they did to you?”

She nodded. “Of course it wasn’t my dad who did it to me.” She assumed a far off look as she thought about her own father, who she hadn’t seen in years. “You must have been hurt.”

“Pissed off is more like it,” he growled thinking about that bastard.

They were engulfed in silence once more. Draco was again struck with how different they were. She had been raised by a loving family. She probably missed them more than anything. He hoped to god that he never saw his father again. And if he did see him, he had some nice hexes planned for the old man.

“Do you miss them?” he asked more gently. Ginny, of course, knew he was talking about her extra large family. She nodded her head again but didn’t speak because it was too difficult. He looked to be on the verge of tears. It was stupid of him to have asked. Of course she missed them. “Why didn’t you go to them for help?”

This was the more pressing issue; something he had wondered about since he had found out she was living alone with Cassie. The Weasleys would go through hell and high water to help their only daughter, unlike his parents. Her brothers would probably take on Voldemort himself for her. He knew at least Ron had already faced Old Snake Face. Surely they were still looking for her. They would want to help her if they knew.

Ginny took a moment to collect herself. “The first thing the Death Eaters did when I escaped was put wards around my house, my brothers’ places, my father’s work, anywhere they thought I would go for help. If I came near them, then they’d be alerted.” Her voice broke slightly. She was acting like Cassie had earlier, trying to hide how much this was hurting her and look strong. “I never tried to reach them,” she said hoarsely. “I never even tried. I knew the wards were there and was afraid I’d be caught so I just ran. They didn’t know I knew so it bought me a lot of time. It took them awhile to realize that they weren’t going to catch me that way.”

Draco was shocked. It had never occurred to him that she wouldn’t attempt to contact the rest of the Weasley clan. It did make sense though; it was probably how she had managed to get out of the country without being detected by the Death Eaters. From the look on her face, he knew that it had been a hard decision for her to make and that it still ate away at her. If she had managed to reach her family then she and Cassie wouldn’t be on the run now but if she had failed she would have lost her daughter and her life as well. If Ginny had become attached to Cassie a fraction of the amount he had, he knew that she had decided not to risk it only because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her daughter.

“I saw Harry Potter in a marketplace once,” she whispered quietly as her eyes glazed over like she no longer saw the cheap hotel room but the marketplace in question. “For a split second it was like seeing an oasis in a desert. I thought ‘I can tell him I’m alive! He’ll help me!’ I was nearly to him when... when I started to doubt my own eyes. What if he was a Death Eater in disguise? Polyjuice Potion isn’t hard to make.” She looked down at her hands as she plummeted back into reality. She began again this time with a note of sadness in her voice. “I never went up to him. I just watched him walk away. I just...” she searched for the words to explain it. “I can’t lose her. I can‘t.”

“I understand,” he said truthfully. He had lost Cassie and he didn’t plan on every doing it again. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to take it. After a few uncomfortable minutes, he spoke again, hoping to change the subject, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She nodded, grateful that he wasn’t going to pursue the topic of her family. It still made her a bit weepy.

“Cassie’s not...” he stopped, realizing he didn’t know how to phrase this. “Well, she’s not normal is she?”

Ginny didn’t answer. She looked at the sleeping figure of her daughter. Draco held his breath. He wished he hadn’t used the phrase ‘normal’ because Ginny didn’t seem to like it. He had just been so eager to ask. This was the thing that he had wondered about most since he had arrived. How had she known that he was her father? If Ginny thought he had been in with the Death Eaters then she wouldn’t have talked about him much and, as far as he knew, she didn’t have a picture to show Cassie.

“No,” she answered flatly after much thought. “No, she’s not.”

“Voldemort wanted to give her powers. My father did the spell. He didn’t say what they were,” Draco informed her.

He was cut off when she replied, “He doesn’t know what they are.” She grinned triumphantly. “And I’m not about to tell him. I’ll assume you won’t either.”

“Nope.” He was at the height of his curiosity now. Ginny was proud that she had been able to keep this secret from the Dark Lord. It was a mystery to him how she had managed to elude the Death Eaters this long; now he got the feeling this had something to do with it. Whatever powers Cassie had, Ginny was able to use them to her advantage.

Ginny knew he was completely in the dark. She was rather enjoying lording it over him. But she wasn’t a spiteful person, so after a few minutes of watching the emotions play across his face, she announced: “Cassie is a Seer.”

“A Seer?” he repeated slowly, still computing this new information. Seers were very rare. Draco’s parents had made sure he was connected with all the finest wizards of the age and he had never even met a Seer. Unless you count Professor Trelawney, and he didn’t. It did, however, make perfect sense. If Cassie were a Seer that explained how she had recognized him, how she knew to leave a note for him in her book and why she occasionally went all glassy eyed. “How long has this been going on?”

“Always, I think. I only just found out about it three years ago.” Ginny’s whole demeanor changed again as she remembered. Her voice was far off and wistful but also sad and a bit embarrassed. “She used to cry all the time. Little things frightened her. I never knew what it was. And sometimes when you’d look at her, it’d be like she didn’t see you. I thought she just had eye trouble; I’d get her a pair of glasses and everything would be ok.

“Then one night, she had just turned three, she woke me up. She had been crying and I couldn’t calm her down. She said, ‘Mummy, they coming.’ I knew she meant the Death Eaters so I figured she just had a bad dream. I told her to go back to sleep and everything would be all right in the morning.” Ginny paused to collect herself. “Not even an hour later, a swarm of Death Eaters kicked down our door. It’s lucky I still had my wand close by. I hurled every curse I could think of at them. They were stunned for a moment so I grabbed a vase or a lamp or something and heaved it at the window. I took Cassie in my arms and we jumped.” She smiled wryly, “Good thing we were only one story up. Huh?

“We left everything behind and just ran. I don’t know how they never managed to catch us. I thought for sure that one of them would apparate in front of me any second and take her away. That was the closest we ever came to being caught. She was good through the whole thing; never cried. The next morning, I found a huge gash on her forearm. When I jumped through the window, she got cut on the broken glass.”

Ginny stopped speaking. The tears were pouring freely down her face now. “There was so much blood. She still has the scar,” she croaked. “I didn’t even notice because I was so worried about escaping. It was all my fault; my fault we almost got captured and my fault she got hurt. I should have listened to her when she told me they were coming.” She wiped the tears of her face and tried to compose herself. “Anyway, that’s when I changed her name.”

“Changed her name?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Ginny said with a forced smile. “When she was a baby I called her ‘Molly’ after my mother. It never really fit though. So after she made her first prediction and I didn’t believe her, I changed it to ‘Cassandra’.”

“After the prophetess,” he breathed, finally understanding. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had studied Greek Mythology. Cassandra had been a mortal girl who the god Apollo fell in love with. He gave her the gift of the Sight. But Cassandra had refused to take Apollo as a lover. He was angry. He couldn’t take the gift back so instead he made it so that no one would believe her predictions.

“Yeah,” Ginny answered absently.

“So that’s how she knew me? She had visions of me?” he asked. Had she been watching him all this time and he never knew it?

“I guess.” She sighed. “She never mentioned having Seen you but she must have.” Seeing that Draco was once again confused she expounded on what she had said. “When she was very young she couldn’t tell the difference between the things she had Seen and reality. It’s only a recent development actually. I remember one time she was so petrified of visions of my brother, Charlie. He had been training dragons and one of them breathed fire...” Ginny shook her head and giggled. “She made me keep the bathtub filled with water just in case.

“I always thought she told me everything that she had Seen. When Ron and Hermione got married she walked me through the whole thing.” She assumed a high-pitched voice and imitated Cassie. “‘Now Unca Ron is getting nervous and sweating a lot. He’s silly.’ I wish I could’ve been there,” she said mournfully. “At least I know they’re ok though.”

He nodded. He was glad as well only because he knew it was important to her, not because he cared about the majority of the Weasley clan. That had been what she worried about most when trapped at Malfoy Manor.

“So,” Ginny said abruptly startling him out of his thoughts. “If she zones out and then gets all scared and says that they’re coming, she’s not kidding.”

“The Dark Lord made her a powerful witch. Now you’re using those powers against him,” Draco drawled, summing up the situation. She nodded proudly. “That’s very Slytherin of you, Weasley.”

She smiled slightly, knowing this was a compliment from him.

* * *

It took Draco hours to fall asleep after his talk with Ginny. Every time she answered one of his questions, it just raised several more. He woke up early the next morning feeling as though he hadn’t really slept at all. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes. Strange noises were coming from the bathroom. They were the reason he was awake at such an ungodly hour.

Like a shot, the bathroom door suddenly flew open accompanied by a loud screaming. All the sleep left Draco as he jumped to his feet. That was Cassie! It was a familiar sound from the night before. He instantly assumed that something was wrong and made motion to protect her.

He was standing in the middle of the room when his eyes locked on the source of the scream. His daughter was running from the bathroom. Her hair stuck up in every direction from sleeping and she was without a stitch of clothing on her. Draco didn’t know what to do. He had never had to deal with screaming, naked children in his life. He just stood, dumbstruck, as she hid behind his legs to protect herself from what was to come.

They both looked up to find Ginny coming out the door Cassie just had. She slammed it loudly behind her causing Draco and Cassie to jump. She had her hands on her hips and was glaring at her daughter. “Cassandra Molly, it is time for your bath,” she said angrily.

Draco knew she must be mad since she had used Cassie’s middle name. Cassie either didn’t notice or wasn’t afraid of her mother. She just shook her head fearfully and said, “No. No bath. I clean.” She smiled winningly, trying to convince her mother.

“Come here,” Ginny ordered her.

Cassie didn’t move. She looked imploringly up at her father. “Don’t make me, Daddy.”

Draco felt as though a spotlight had been shone upon him. Cassie was looking at him hopefully and Ginny was looking daggers at him. When he opened his mouth to speak, Ginny seized Cassie’s distraction and grabbed her from behind him. Draco was almost glad. He had no idea what he to say since either way, one of the girls would be angry with him.

Cassie squealed and kicked, trying to free herself from her mother’s grasp. Her attempts were in vain; she was just a scrawny five year-old and her mother a grown witch who had no doubt done this before. “You know,” she called to Draco over the screams of the little girl. “She fools you into thinking she’s sweet and cute with those apple cheeks and all. But,” she punctuated the ‘but’ by violently kicking the door to the bathroom open. “She’s really the devil child.”

The door closed behind them muffling Cassie’s yells. Next Draco heard, there was a loud splash as Cassie was dumped unceremoniously into the already drawn bathtub. “Oh, that was so mean!” she pouted.

Draco couldn’t help but laugh at her; it was the first time he had in a long time.

* * *

° The song Cassie sings is “Once Upon a Dream” from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty. The music and lyrics are by Sammy Fain and Jack Lawrence
° Ginny quotes the fairy, Flora, as the fairies do magic on Philip’s sword to defeat Maleficent’s dragon. The second quote is the other fairy, Fauna, as Philip and Aurora dance. I didn’t write either line. The Disney story adaptation of Sleeping Beauty is attributed to Erdman Penner, additional story by Joe Kinaldi et al.

*

DISCLAIMER: Draco, Ginny, Voldemort, and all the other characters from Harry Potter belong to the lovely JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury and Warner Bros. I’m sorry, but I stole them. Don’t hurt me. Cassie, however, is mine. All mine.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This chapter is sort of a filler. I’m sorry it took nearly a month to get it out. Actually, it was the chapter after this one that was giving me trouble. This one wrote itself rather quickly. Thanks for those of you who stuck by me. Amy and Tessie my betas and the gals at the Draco/Ginny review board that make me laugh. I’m starting to get lazy and name by chapters after television show episodes because it’s easier than thinking them up on my own.

* * *

“Can you just stand still, please?” Draco asked imploringly. “Please,” he added still more desperately after she failed to listen to him.

Cassie did her best to comply. She had been bouncing around the whole hotel room. Now, since her father had asked so nicely, she just bounced in place like a small, female jackhammer. She stretched all the way up until she was on her tiptoes and her calves couldn’t hold her up anymore. Then she fell back down, her heels striking the ground hard. She’d smile innocently at him, like it had been someone else who had bounced up and down after he had specifically asked her not to. Then, when she thought he wasn’t looking, she’d do it again.

“I wanna wear the pink one!” she cried, standing on the balls of her feet and wobbling dangerously.

Ginny was running errands, so he was in charge of getting Cassie dressed this particular morning. It was more difficult than he had anticipated. For starters, you had to stop her from bouncing to dress her. And then she always wanted to wear poofy dresses. (“Like Princess Aurora!” she said.) Nothing else was to her liking. But Ginny would never go for that. Besides, it wasn’t suitable attire for the day of shopping they had planned.

Draco sighed. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for her. “Mummy said that you couldn’t wear that because it’s raining out and you’ll get it muddy,” he said. She scowled. Even a new a parent, like Draco, could tell she wasn’t happy now. She had even stopped bouncing. “You can wear your pink shirt,” he said in his best “Let’s Make a Deal” tone as he held out said pink shirt. It was flowered and had frilly sleeves. Cassie obviously found this appealing. She kept looking from the shirt to the dress, debating inwardly.

“Ok,” she said finally and resumed bouncing.

Draco was surprised at how quickly he was adjusting to his new life. Before he had been a father in the “I’ve made a child” sense and now he was one in the “I’m a parent” sense. He was rapidly realizing that they were very different. He used to imagine what it would be like to have her around. His fantasies never included being woken up at ridiculously early hours to watch cartoons or following her around 24 hours a day to make sure she didn’t touch anything. Although it was hard and tiring, when he was getting angry with her, he’d merely remind himself of those lonely years he had spent without her. Then, little things like dressing her, weren’t so hard anymore.

Cassie insisted she could dress herself but she always got her head up her sleeve and her pants on backwards. So, somebody had to help her. She giggled a lot when Draco tried to rearrange her limbs inside her shirt. She was very ticklish. She fell into fits of uncontrollable laughter when he had to buckle her belt. His silky hair tickled her stomach. Cassie always needed belts to hold her pants up. Draco would swear she was the skinniest little girl ever.

“It’s like dressing a flag pole,” he teased with a knowing smile. He had been wiry as a child. To some extent, he still was. His mother had often commented on his appearance. She found it distressing and had clothes custom made for him, not that she wouldn’t have anyway.

“Ok!” she said as soon as he was finished. She made a move as to go off running around again.

“Wait!” He grabbed her arm to stop her. “I have to brush your hair.” Her hair always ended up sticking up in all directions after she had been asleep because she tossed, turned and kicked all night long. At the moment it was tangled into a mess he wasn’t sure he could solve. It slightly resembled an afro.

She eyed him skeptically. Hair brushing was not her favorite pastime. It was right up there with baths. But, when he offered to let her sit on his lap, she happily obliged. In the past few days, Cassie had been easily convinced to do things she didn’t want to do by saying that Daddy would help her. She was often seen clinging to his leg. She was just as happy to have him around as he was to have her around.

“Ow!” she yelled before the brush even touched her head.

“I haven’t started yet,” he said exasperatedly.

“Ow! Ow!” She continued to shriek every time he brushed a knot out of her red-blonde hair. “Owwwwww!”

Draco sighed. If his friends at Hogwarts could only see him now, brushing his pink clad daughter’s hair like she were his doll. He wondered what they’d think. Probably nothing, his mean half thought, Crabbe and Goyle were never big thinkers.

“Ow!” she shrieked again, this time more loudly. Anyone who waslistening outside the hotel room door would think he was abusing her.

“You’re not pain tolerant. We need to toughen you up,” he grumbled half-joking and half-serious.

“It doesn’t hurt when Mummy does it,” she said irritably. Draco slumped dejectedly, feeling like a failure as a parent.

Cassie started squirming in his lap. Her eyes darted around the room as if she had never seen it before. “Stop moving,” he commanded but she didn’t listen.

“Ow!” she cried, still moving her head in every direction. “Ow!”

Then like magic, she stopped.

Her eyes focused on something straight ahead of her that he couldn’t see and she stopped yelling “Ow!” every time he did something. She stared unblinkingly off into the distance. He knew she was having a vision. He had seen her do it at least twice everyday since he had reunited with her. Usually it was nothing. He had never seen her have a vision about Voldemort or the Death Eaters but Ginny told him that those were different because she got a frightened look on her face. Since she seemed fine, he used this opportunity to quickly brush her hair without her screaming.

A few moments later Cassie turned around to look up at him, her eyes saying, “Ok. Where were we?”

“All done,” he proclaimed proudly. She turned around and looked in the mirror above the dresser.

Her face fell. “I wanted the pink bows,” she said sadly. Draco had tied her hair into a pony-tail with just a simple elastic.

He groaned. “Should’ve known you’d want the poofiest, pinkiest thing.”

She grinned. “Yep,” she agreed, pleased with herself. “Where’s Mummy?” she asked abruptly as he was tying the pink ribbon in her hair.

“Doing laundry,” he answered.

“What’s laundry?” she asked. Cassie always had lots of questions.

“Washing clothes.”

“Oh. Why don’t they just call it ‘washing clothes’?”

Draco frowned. He hated when he couldn’t answer all her questions. The truth was, why Muggles did the things they did were a complete and utter mystery to him. He was only just beginning to understand electricity and the telephone. Ginny thought it was best to live amongst the Muggles since they wouldn’t recognize them or report back to Voldemort. He couldn’t disagree with that but he still wished he were around people who knew what Quidditch was.

“I don’t know,” he finally responded. Cassie made a face. She couldn’t continue with her line of questioning if he didn’t know the answers. She’d have to think of something else to ask.

“Why’s Grandmother so sad?” she said abruptly. At first Draco didn’t register what she had asked. She has posed the question much like she had the one about laundry.

It took him a while to think of a suitable answer. Why was Grandmother so sad? His mind flashed back to that Christmas when he had seen Molly Weasley in Diagon Alley. She had looked hallow and alone like she had lost the spark that made her continue on.

“You remember how you felt when I was away?” he began cautiously. She bobbled her head up and down. “Sad, right? You missed me?” Again, she nodded. Inwardly, Draco grinned but he maintained a somber outward appearance. “Well your grandmother misses Mummy the way you missed me and the way I missed you. Mummy is her only daughter and she loves her very much. She wishes Mummy could be around.”

To his surprise, Cassie rolled her eyes. “Daddy,” she admonished much the same as she did when he did something foolish. For example, when he hadn’t known how to work the hair dryer. “Not Nana,” she corrected. “Grandmother.”

Draco blinked. She meant his mother. He had never seen his mother sad, unless she was at a funeral or something and just pretending. But she never really meant it. She wasn’t the sad type since she never concerned herself with important matters. Suddenly the image in his head of Molly at Christmas changed. Now it was Narcissa with the piles of presents tumbling to the ground. “Death Eater,” the people hissed and refused to help her. “Her own son doesn’t even speak to her anymore,” one lady murmured to another. The other woman nodded. She shook her head in disgust. And Narcissa began to cry softly, trying to hide it so they wouldn’t see.

Cassie had turned around. She was looking at him curiously. “She misses you, Daddy,” she observed.

He couldn’t find his voice, so he merely nodded in agreement.

“We could cheer her up!” she said brightly. “We could go visit. We could play! I could show her my blanket!” Cassie thought this was the best idea in the world. In her simple world, it was. Someone was sad, so the obvious solution was to go cheer them up. It only made Draco feel worse. The three of them going to Malfoy Manor to show Narcissa Cassie’s blanket was perhaps the worst plan ever. But Cassie didn’t understand that “the bad man” was in control of the place her Grandmother lived and that going to visit her would surely mean her capture.

“We can’t. It‘s not safe,” he whispered mournfully. Cassie’s face fell.

“Is it because of the bad man?” she asked, her big eyes filled with tears. Draco nodded. “He ruins everything!” she cried grumpily, folding her little arms across her chest and sulking.

“We will go cheer her up as soon as we can.” He only said this to make her smile again, and she did, but he couldn’t help hoping this was a promise he could keep.

The door swung open revealing a ragged looking Ginny who carried a large basket of clothes in her arms. Draco tried not to flinch when he recognized some of his own delicate clothing thrown hastily into the pile. He hadn’t asked her to do his laundry. She had just gotten sick of his clothing going unwashed since he didn’t know how to clean them, even the Wizard way. She dumped the basket to the ground as soon as she crossed the threshold.

“Muggles are nutters!” she exclaimed exasperatedly, pushing a lose strand of crimson hair out of her face. “It’ so much harder this way. I don’t know how they get on without magic.”

Draco wanted to say something snide about her being the one who insisted they live the Muggle way. Somehow he managed to keep his tongue. He had remind himself that it wasn’t her fault she was on the run from the world’s most powerful Dark Wizard.


Cassie immediately scrambled out of his lap. Without saying hello to her mother, she rummaged through the newly cleaned clothes. Some of them ended up on the floor, much to Ginny’s chagrin. Cassie flashed a triumphant smile when she produced what it was she was looking for: her blanket. She buried her face in it the way she had the night Draco gave to her, then her face fell.

“It’s not as fuzzy anymore,” she said dejectedly.

Ginny fell upon the nearest bed with a frustrated growl. “Someone Avada Kedavra me,” she moaned. Then she hurried to add, “I didn’t mean that literally,” when she saw Draco observing her.

He scowled, annoyed that she assumed he knew how to do that curse. He did know, but that wasn’t the point. She seemed to think that evil families sat around and passed these things on to one another. And Lucius had never gotten around to teaching him. Too busy making people miserable, Draco assumed.

“I thought we were going to the market today,” he said pointedly ignoring her earlier comment and trying to change the subject.

* * *

It was the same open-air market that he had first seen them in. It was bizarre. The last time he had visited the place, he had been brooding and alone. Now he waltzed in, hand-in-hand with his five-year-old daughter and her mother on her other side. Somehow, it didn’t feel like the same place at all. It seemed happier. Perhaps because walking down the street didn’t result in a tight pain in his chest due to his intense loneliness.

Ginny needed to buy a few things. She immediately went off and started browsing. Draco didn’t notice what she was looking at. He was occupied watching Cassie. Her eyes flickered across everything and every person in the area. They finally came to rest on a group of children playing in a patch of grass. After a few moments of watching, she slowly let go of his hand as if it were a forgotten toy. She took cautious steps toward the group, eyeing them with a sort of longing that he knew too well.

She stopped at the edge of the grass like there was some sort of invisible barrier preventing her from going over to them. It rather reminded Draco of his younger self. He had never had many friends. He had never played with the other kids on the playground because either his father didn’t approve of the families or his mother didn’t want him to ruin his new clothes. Curious as to her reasons, he sank to one knee so he could be eye level with her. She didn’t seem to notice him she was staring so intently at the other kids.

He was about to open his mouth to ask but she responded before he could pose the question. “I can’t go play with them,” she said matter-of-factly with traces of sorrow in her voice. “We have to leave soon...” her voice trailed off. “Besides...”

“What?” he wondered.

As if on cue, one of the girls in the happy group looked up. She noticed Cassie and smiled brightly. The new little girl jogged over so she stood exactly as Cassie did, except she was on the inside of the invisible barrier facing out while Cassie was outside facing in. “Do you have any dolls?” the girl asked merrily, pleased to have found another girl about her age.

Sadly, Cassie shook her head no. She didn’t have any dolls. She had one once, but they had left it behind when the Death Eaters had attacked. She missed it but knew her Mummy couldn’t buy her a new one.

The other little girl’s face fell. “Oh,” she said blandly. Now she found Cassie uninteresting. After all, there was no point in playing with girls who didn’t have dolls, so she turned on her heel and returned to playing with her other friends without a second glance.

Cassie looked up at her father, “See?” Draco nodded. “I play by myself,” she said with more cheer than he thought possible. He felt horrible. He wanted to go shake that girl and tell her that she would be lucky to count Cassie as her friend.

What was worse, it all seemed so commonplace to Cassie. He almost wished she had cried. But she didn’t, she merely went on with her life as if this were both accepted and expected. She hopped away from him, staring at the ground with interest. He got the feeling that she had become really good at entertaining herself. She crouched down low to stare at her reflection in a puddle that the previous night’s rain had left. A brown leaf was floating in the middle of it. She pushed it with her index finger, making indistinct noises as she did.

“What’s that?” he asked, eager to get inside her world.

“The Princess is trapped on the island with the Evil Sorcerer.” She gestured to one side of the puddle. “So the Prince,” she poked the leaf, “is going over in his boat to rescue her. But there are monsters who work for the Sorcerer in the ocean,” she whispered conspiratorially. She pushed the leaf across the glassy surface of the puddle making attack noises and mimicking screams as, presumably, the Prince was attacked by the monsters. “Hold steadfast on your course, brave prince, the princess needs you!” she said in a deep voice.

“Draco! Come here!” Ginny was calling him over. She had her arms filled with piles of items she had purchased. She was swaying slightly under them, not because her bundle was heavy but because there was just so much. Still keeping watch over Cassie out of the corner of his eye, Draco hurried over to relieve her burden. She gratefully dumped the majority into his larger arms.

“Thanks,” she absentmindedly in the manor of someone who had been taught to say “please” and “thank you” to everyone as a child.

“What is all this?” he asked, looking at the items he was now carrying. Most of it was fabric of some sort that hadn’t yet been made into anything. The rest of it, he didn’t recognize.

“Cassie’s new nightgown. She ripped her old one the last time the Death Eaters attacked,” she explained, not giving him her complete attention. She was still looking around, presumably for a place to buy some more things she needed. She set her bags down to get a better look around.

Instinctively, Draco glanced over at Cassie. She had abandoned playing with the leaf in the puddle. Now she was walking back and forth as if she were on a high wire. She had her arms outstretched to keep her balance and was careful not to step in anymore nearby puddles. Satisfied that she was all right, his mind then jumped to the next thing he had been thinking.

“You make her clothes?” he said incredulously. For someone who had his clothes tailor-made since childhood, this was horrifying. It was a travesty. Wasn’t it only poor kids who didn’t have shoes that had to pile in one bed with their fifteen brothers and sisters who made their own clothes?

“Yeah,” Ginny said, still not paying him any attention. She glanced up to check on Cassie. She frowned when she found her daughter no longer avoiding the puddles but jumping right in them. “Cassandra!” she said in warning tone, “Stop that.”

Cassie either didn’t hear her mother or pointedly ignored her. She saw a particularly large, inviting puddle that was just calling out to be jumped in. Cassie’s shoes landed in it with a large splash that went all over the sidewalk. People hurried out of the way to avoid the flying water. Cassie grinned. She had made that one go really far! It was probably some kind of puddle record. She wanted to see if she could do it again.

Ginny opened her mouth to yell at Cassie again, but Draco’s voice snapped her attention back to him. “You don’t have to make her clothes anymore, you know,” he said, in a way that grated her nerves. He sounded so superior. “I have money.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re getting on just fine, thank you. We don’t need your money.”

Another splash erupted from Cassie’s side of the street. A few people shouted as they were hit with the cold water. Cassie attempted to look innocent under her mother’s piercing glare. “Cassie, don’t splash people.” Ginny was becoming rapidly annoyed with both Draco and her daughter.

“Ok,” the little girl agreed brightly. She could do that. It just meant she’d have to be more careful when she jumped in the next puddle.

“I didn’t say you needed my money,” Draco argued defensively. “Just that you don’t have to make her clothes anymore. It’d be a lot easier for you, if you could buy store bought clothes.” He didn’t understand why she was getting so angry. If someone gave him the opportunity to stop doing a lot of unnecessary work, he’d surely take it.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest. Her family had never taken charity before, and she wasn’t about to start a tradition, especially with Draco Malfoy of all people. He acted like he was doing her a big favor. Cassie was happy and healthy. What did it matter that her mother made her clothes? Cassie had never complained.

“Cassie!” she cried exasperatedly. “Stop! You’re going to get all wet!”

Cassie, who had just hopped in another puddle couldn’t understand why her mother was so mad. She hadn’t splashed anyone except herself that time. She looked down at her muddy clothes. “I am all wet,” she said proudly. And as long as she was already wet, she could continue with her playing.

She danced along the street, looking for more puddles. They were good for jumping. It should rain more, she thought. She looked up and frowned. Her Mummy and Daddy were fighting. She didn’t know what it was about. They had never fought before. Suddenly she didn’t feel much like playing in puddles anymore. She wished they’d stop yelling. What if her Daddy got mad and then he left again? She didn’t want that. She liked him. Her Mummy thought he was a “slimy git”; Cassie didn’t know why. He was always nice to her and he had even selfishly risked his own life to protect her from the monsters under the bed. She stopped bouncing in the water by a rickety old bench. The puddles weren’t fun anymore. Now she just wanted to go home. It was obviously something in the market making them fight.

Two old women were sitting on the bench that Cassie was standing by. They wore heavy coats to protect from the cold even though it was relatively mild out and they had plastic scarves on their heads to keep the rain away from their hair. “See those two,” said the first with the raspy voice of one who had smoked too many cigarettes. She pointed at Draco and Ginny with a long, gnarled finger.

Cassie perked up. They were talking about her parents. She looked furtively around. Her Mummy said it wasn’t nice to listen to other people’s conversations, but then again, her Mummy also told her not to shout at people. Ginny was doing a fair amount of shouting at Draco now. She flung her arms about and gestured emphatically. He only scowled at her, unmoved by her show of emotion.

“They fight like Sal and I did,” she continued.

The other woman chortled with laughter, which ended with a coughing fit. “He’s better looking,” she said once the fit had subsided.

Cassie cocked her head to one side, listening more intently. The first woman looked indignant. “He seems nice enough,” she pointed ignored the crack about her husband being ugly, “she should just take the money from him.”

Then they started talking about another couple, that was kissing deeply on the bench across from them. (“Sinful!” “Glad she’s not my daughter!”) No longer caring to hear the old ladies’ conversation, Cassie meandered over to where her parents were still fighting. They were hollering so loud that it hurt her ears. Annoyed and upset, she tugged on her father’s pant leg. They both instantly clammed up when they saw her. Her mother looked like she had been caught with hand in the cookie jar. She had never intended to get into it in public, especially with her daughter around, but Draco just made her so mad.

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “No fighting!” she pouted cutely.

Feeling incredibly guilty, neither parent had any response to her proclamation. Pleased that they were finally quiet, Cassie grinned. “Daddy, those ladies over there think you’re handsome.” she said, twisting back and forth mischievously.

Draco was used to such attention he merely smiled. Ginny snorted with laughter. She could barely stand she was shaking so hard. He glared at her. Didn’t she think he was handsome? “What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she said through giggles.

“And they said you should take the money from the nice man, Mummy,” Cassie smiled impishly.

This only made Ginny laugh harder. “I don’t see any “nice man”,” she teased devilishly, “Only Draco.”

He frowned. It was actually true, he wasn’t a very nice man, he just didn’t like to be mocked. He was far better at mocking others than being mocked by them. On the bright side, at least she wasn’t taking his head off anymore. He’d never offer her money again if that was the way she was going to treat him afterward.

Cassie didn’t think it was funny either. “Mummy!” she gasped, her mouth wide open.

Ginny stopped laughing abruptly. It was something about the way her daughter was looking at her that made her like she was the kid and Cassie was the adult that was scolding her. She shifted awkwardly in her place. Draco smirked at her discomfort. It was wrong of her to make fun of Draco in front of Cassie. He was her father and whatever problems Ginny and he had shouldn’t be aired in front of her. “Sorry, Cass,” Ginny apologized much like she would to her own mother.

“Apologize to Daddy,” the girl instructed. Then she beamed as an idea struck her. “You should kiss and make up.” She started to bounce hopefully.

Draco raised an eyebrow expectantly. He quite enjoyed tormenting her like this.

Ginny shrugged, trying to look as if it weren’t killing her to say, “Sorry, Draco.” She sounded rather like she’d rather chew glass than say it again.

“Already forgotten.” Draco waved a hand in the air, assuming an air of forgiveness. He might as well pretend to be the bigger person, as he had gotten his satisfaction watching Ginny squirm. She glared at him, making in clear she saw through his act. He smirked.

At least they understood each other.

Cassie’s face fell. “But you didn’t kiss,” she whined.

Pretending not to hear what Cassie had said, Ginny picked up her things again. “Come on, Cass, we’re going home,” she said. She gave Draco a warning look as she passed him. In return, he smiled sardonically.

Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder. She strode through the marketplace with brisk steps and her head held proudly in the air. She reminded Draco a bit of his mother. Narcissa had long strides. He often had trouble following after her as a boy. His legs had been just too short. For that same reason, and also because she was pouting, Cassie lagged behind.

Draco watched her carefully, not wanting her to get lost. She crossed her arms over her chest and moped for a bit. Then she got bored of that because no one was paying attention to her sulking. She seemed to want to stop and play in a bed of flowers but didn’t dare. She often looked up to check on her mother, who had slowed her pace somewhat. When she did, she waved at Draco.

He liked watching her. It gave him a strange sensation in his stomach. He often thought about her as a baby. He wished he hadn’t missed seeing her grow up. He still marveled at how big she had become. The previous years had been like his life was on hold. He hadn’t done anything of value. It was like he had slept through everything. Now, he was awake and couldn’t believe that life had gone on without him. He desperately wanted those five years back. There were too many moments, like this one, that he had missed.

Cassie bopped along to music in her head, occasionally, she’d spin around and dance a bit. Passersby gawked at her. She didn’t care. She didn’t exactly keep pace with them. They hurried past and rushed into stores; Cassie danced. Draco was walking at a snail’s pace to keep in time with her. Often, people got annoyed because she was in their way. They’d prod her onward or rush to get around her.

He saw a large boy, a little older than Cassie, advancing on her on the sidewalk. Draco could see what was going to happen before it did. He just couldn’t stop it. One minute, she was twirling merrily, the next, she was on the ground. Cassie and the boy’s shoulders collided; his weight advantage sent her sprawling to the cobbled stones. The boy brushed right by her as if a fly had buzzed around his ear. He didn’t look back.

Cassie didn’t react right away. She looked from the back of the retreating boy to her knee, which had taken the brunt of the fall. It wasn’t until a stream of bright, red blood appeared that all hell broke loose. Her lower lip began to quiver then she broke into full-fledged sobs. Her entire body shook under the force of them so that her breaths became choppy and shallow. Her wails seemed to carry forever. Draco couldn’t believe something so tiny could be so loud. People all the way down the street turned around to see what was making such a sound.

In an instant, Ginny was on top of her. She pulled her daughter into a warm, motherly embrace. “It’s ok, baby,” she soothed, “It’s ok. It’s just a scrape.” Still, Cassie wailed on.

Draco didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just stand there and watch her cry. It was too painful. But he knew he couldn’t be like Ginny. He couldn’t hug and kiss her so that everything would be all right. He wanted to, but it just wasn’t him. Besides, if Ginny couldn’t comfort her, what help would he be?

It wasn’t a sudden change. It occurred to him slowly, almost like he didn’t know what it was, as he watched Ginny’s attempts to console his bleeding child: he was angry. There were times in his life when he had been angry about everything: they weren’t serving food he liked for dinner, he wasn’t top in the class, that first year looked at him funny. But the last few years it seemed all his nerves had been deadened. It was almost nostalgic to feel anger again.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he wheeled around. The boy who had knocked Cassie over was still only a few yards away. An older woman, who Draco assumed was his mother, was with him now. She was tall and thin unlike her boy. She looked like she had too much cosmetic surgery, because her face was pulled back taunt. She was giving the boy, who reminded Draco of a young Goyle, some chocolate to eat.

“Excuse me,” he said in a tone that was anything but polite. It was clear he meant, ‘Excuse you.’

The woman looked up at him with a haughty expression. “What do you want?” she demanded, acting superior. She didn’t like being disturbed by strange men on the street.

“You son,” he glared at the boy, “knocked my daughter over.”

She peered over his shoulder. Cassie was still on the ground sobbing with Ginny. Nonplussed, she returned her attention back to Draco. “So?”

As soon as the word came out of her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. His whole face changed. It was like watching Jekyll turn into Hyde before your very eyes. This was not to say that Draco turned into a wild man. On the contrary, a composed coldness that had been buried deep under the surface emerged again. He glared at her and she trembled ever so slightly. Draco had the kind of glare that would allow him to win a staring contest with Medusa herself.

“She was in his way,” the woman argued, all the while trying to maintain her holier than thou attitude. It was hard when Draco was eyeing her like she was nothing but something gross on the bottom of his shoe so her voice wavered a tad.

“If your son didn’t take the area of a small planet then she wouldn’t have been.” He hissed the words in a deadly, threatening manner. Then, just to up the discomfort level, he took a step closer to her so that their noses were almost touching. “What do you fed him? Tubs of lard?”

“How dare you!” she shrieked shrilly. “Why I’ve never seen someone so rude...!”

“Guess you don’t own any mirrors,” he drawled as he cut her off. He was getting a rather perverse sense of pleasure at torturing this woman. Her son was hiding behind her legs, looking up at him fearfully.

Draco smirked. It was like riding a bike.

“If you don’t get away from me right this instant, I’ll sue! My husband is a very wealthy man...” she began, thinking this would scare him off.

Draco only surveyed her more closely. Her hair, her clothes, her son, they all screamed bourgeoisie. Again, he smirked. She really didn’t know what she was getting into. Being superior because he was better off than other people was his forte. “Lady,” he said patronizingly. “I’ve spent more money on shoes than you’ve ever seen in your lifetime,” he looked her up and down again, “and despite your weak attempts to cover it up, I’m guessing that it’s been a pretty long life.” She grabbed her heart, shocked and horrified. “You don’t want to get into this with me. All I wanted was for Tubby to apologize to my daughter, but now I realize that was a mistake. I don’t want him within a hundred meters of her.”

With that note, Draco turned on his heel and returned to his family. He had beaten her into the ground; she had been a weak opponent. There was no point in continuing the battle. The woman stared after him disbelievingly, her mouth hanging wide open. She was just too stunned to move. Then when it dawned on her that he hadn’t physically harmed her, she hustled her son away frantically before he could he could get the chance.

“Are you all right, Princess?” he gently asked Cassie as he kneeled down to her level. Her sobs were becoming few and far between and her knee wasn’t bleeding as much now. She nodded mutely through a loud sniffle. Touched, he pulled her into a tight hug. Cassie gladly hugged him back. She didn’t know the man who had just told off that woman, and Draco wasn’t about to introduce her. Her Daddy wasn’t mean. He wasn’t cuddly like her Mummy was, but he would never look down on her because she was poor. It was like Draco had morphed back into Jekyll the moment he had turned his attention back to Cassie while that other Draco returned to his hole and waited for the next time he was needed.

Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck. She cried softly with her face buried against his skin. Ginny was still stroking her back, even though she had handed Cassie over to Draco. “It’s ok,” they both said at once. They exchanged a knowing look. They sat on the ground, forcing all the people to walk around them, consoling their daughter. All that had happened just minutes before was forgotten. When Draco looked back on it, he realized that moment was the first time he had felt like the three of them were part of a family. Certainly not a perfectly functional family, but a family nonetheless.

Gradually, Cassie cries lessened. When she had stopped completely, but still looked down, Draco picked her up and balanced her on his hip. She slid around a bit, since he was not used to carrying children around. He had never even been carried like this. Eventually, he adjusted. “You ok?” he asked again.

“Mummy kissed it; made it better,” she explained vacantly, still frowning. Ginny kissed the top of her head, hoping that if she kissed her once it was better and if she kissed her twice it’d be fixed.

“I know,” declared Draco as an idea on how to cheer her up struck him. “How ‘bout I take you and Mummy out for ice cream.”

“Ooooh,” Ginny gushed, widening her eyes in an attempt to look excited. “We like ice cream, right Cass?”

Cassie twisted her face, the way she did when she was thinking. “Can we turn it upside down and make it look like a clown?” she asked.

Draco had to look to Ginny for the answer to this. He had no idea what she was talking about. Ice cream like a clown? Ginny grinned widely and nodded. “Of course. Who would eat ice cream if it didn’t look like a clown?” she teased, but Cassie didn’t catch it. The girl smiled weakly when her mother said this.

Still, Cassie was not back to her cheery, dancing self. This upset Draco, he wanted to keep her happy, so he looked for other ways to cheer her. It had to be something happy and playful that they could do together. There weren’t very many kid things that he knew how to do. He really hadn’t played childish games when he himself had been a child. The only game he had been allowed to play was Quidditch. Even then, he could only be Seeker because his father said the other positions were not dignified.

“I could teach you how to play Quidditch?” he said hopefully.

Cassie made a face. “Eww.” She looked like she were sucking on a lemon. “Boy sport.”

Again, he was confused so he turned to Ginny. It was a good thing she was with them, Draco thought, which lead to him wishing he didn’t need her to come along. Ginny just laughed. “Cassie is a girl and she cannot play boy games,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

In his arms, Cassie nodded fervently. He looked at the Ginny, startled. “What happened to that ‘Girl Power’ stuff you were spouting at Hogwarts. Weren’t you the one who lead the protests about the Slytherin team not having girls on it?”

Ginny made a face as if to say, ‘Do you really want to get into this?’ He had said some politically incorrect things those days. As captain of the Slytherin team, he had been right in the crossfire, not that it bothered him. He didn’t care what other people thought.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, it seems we were all misguided. Cassandra has set me straight. Girls should play with dolls and boys play Quidditch,” she said sarcastically. Ginny, of course, zealously disagreed with this statement but had learned that fighting with Cassie was like fighting with a brick wall. She would just wait until her daughter grew out of the girly-girl phase. This was lost on her daughter, who bobbed her head in agreement.

“It was nice of Cassie to set you right,” Draco winked at Ginny, who laughed a tiny bit.

“It’s a good thing she’s here,” she looked thoughtful. “What would life be like without her?”

“We wouldn’t go for ice cream as much, that’s for sure,” Draco shot back playfully.

Cassie looked from her Daddy to her Mummy and back again. They were smiling at each other and they weren’t yelling anymore. She smiled too. She liked it better when they were happy than when they were fighting. She wanted them to be a family. She saw visions of her Mummy’s family, she wanted them to be like that. Only, she didn’t know where she could get so many brothers. She’d have to ask her Daddy.

She closed her eyes and tried to picture them in her head. She liked her uncles, they were funny. Without warning, her mind clouded over rapidly until she couldn’t see what was in front of her anymore. It was only gray mist, and then images began take shape in the mist, like they were part of it and then got sharper and sharper until there was no more mist. There were lots of people and they were coming closer.

Draco and Ginny were still teasing each other when Cassie did something that stopped them in their tracks. She didn’t scream or cry, she just whispered one word with her eyes were glazed over because of the vision. The look on her face told Draco it was not a good vision.

“Mummy...” she breathed, her voice filled with fear. The sound had the effect of dropping an ice cube down Draco’s back. It made a pit in his stomach and the little hairs on his arms stand up.

Ginny’s eyes widened with fear. She said aloud what they all knew, “The Death Eaters are coming.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: I disclaim! I totally disclaim!
NOTES: This chapter kicked my ass. It took well over a month to write, not to mention the trouble we had getting it beta read. It was rather like a sitcom. I was this close to pulling a, “There is no chapter six. Skip ahead to chapter seven.” ‘Course then things wouldn’t have made much since so I forced my way through. If anyone doesn’t like it, you’re not alone. I don’t like it so much either. Bastard.

The last three times I tried to upload a new chapter to fanfiction.net, the site went down. So just for future reference all the parts of this story can be found at http://www.geocities.com/dracoginny I’m dedicating this chapter to the posters at the review board there because they put up with all my posts about writer’s block and kept me from flinging myself into the ocean. I also forgot to mention in the last story that I wanted to wish Fearthainn a Happy Birthday. So this will be her birthday chapter even though it’s late. :-)

* * *

Draco was never able to recall very well what happened in the next few minutes. His brain went numb as soon as Ginny said the Death Eaters were coming. All he could manage to remember was her throwing open the door to the hotel room, which had been their home for the last few days so violently that the doorknob made a hole in the wall. He stood dumbly in the doorway, his daughter still in his arms, as Ginny grabbed everything they owned and stuffed it into just three bags. He marveled at the speed in which she could move.

“Ready?” she asked him as she handed him his own bag to carry in his free hand.

Draco nodded. “Yeah,” he croaked. He wasn’t sure if there was a way he could ever be ‘ready’ for this. Prepared, maybe, but he’d never come to accept it as a normal occurrence. He knew he’d never get used to a life on the run or the fear that went along with it. Fear wasn’t something he ever wanted to get used to. Then it would start to control his life. But he, like Ginny and Cassie, didn’t have any better options. At the moment, running was all they could do.

And just like that, without a second thought, they were ready to leave and never come back. It took less than five minutes.

Ginny walked briskly ahead of Draco and Cassie with Cassie’s bag slung over her shoulder so she could keep her wand out. She checked both ways at every corner before letting Draco know it was all right to come forward with Cassie. The little girl hugged Draco tightly, burying her head into his shoulder in a frightened sort of way.

“It’s all right,” he whispered to her, kissing the top of her head. “Mummy and I will protect you.”

“Come on!” Ginny cried, motioning them closer. “We’ll take the lift,” she said. She pointed toward an elevator at the end of the hallway. It’s shiny silver doors seemed so far away to Draco, at least 100 meters farther than it had been any other time he had used it.

They broke into a run, as if someone was going to jump out from the rooms that lined the hallway. No one did. Draco breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the elevator. Ginny impatiently pushed the button several times. The dull sound of grinding metal told them that it was on its way, but that wasn‘t good enough for Ginny. “Hurry up!” she groaned, jamming her finger against the button again.

“Ack!” Cassie suddenly shrieked so that Draco‘s stomach jumped in fear that she had seen something they hadn’t. She began to wiggle in his arms trying to escape.

“Cass? What is it?” he asked worriedly, trying to maintain hold on her. She was small and quick, so it was a tough job.

“I forgot my blankie!” she wailed hysterically though it was the most important thing in the world. “I left... it under... my pillow... so I’d have it to... protect us...from... the ... monsters!” she said through large sobs.

“We can get you another one,” Ginny said desperately. The elevator bell rang behind her, signaling its arrival.

“It’s special!” Cassie cried. “Please, Daddy,” she whined, turning her face up to his imploringly. “Please.”

Draco felt his heart and his resolve melt. He looked into Ginny’s wary eyes and sighed. “It’ll only take a minute,” he begged. She put her hands on her hips, beseeching him to change his mind.

“We have to go now,” she said firmly. “They could be here already!”

He looked from Cassie to Ginny, feeling very much like he had a few days earlier when Cassie hadn’t wanted to take a bath only this time the situation was far more dire which only served to add to the pressure. He felt that his decision could change everything. There was a war raging inside him. He wanted to keep Cassie safe, first and foremost, but he also wanted to see her happy. They didn’t know for sure that the Death Eaters were already there. Cassie’s vision hadn’t been that specific, for all she knew, they might not show up for another couple of days.

Finally, he produced his wand from his pocket, trying to prove that he could look after Cassie. Ginny glared at it disapprovingly. “It’ll only take a minute,” he said, trying to convey with his eyes why he had to pick this road.

“I’ll hold the elevator,” she said in a detached tone, refusing to look him in the eye. He wasn’t sure what this reaction meant. She was so hard to read. He felt that she still needed convincing.

“Even if they are here, I can hold them off,” he announced surely. She still avoided his gaze.

“Just go,” she said impatiently. “You’re wasting time.”

“I can do the Killing Curse,” he said quietly, not sure why he was telling her. He had never told anyone that he had mastered Avada Kedavra, especially not his Father, who would, no doubt, be very pleased with his son. Draco just wanted Ginny to know that he would do anything to make sure that Cassie, and she, made it out of there alive.

He only waited moments for a response that never came. She was right, he was wasting time. When he was a little way down the hall, he thought he heard her say, “That doesn’t make me feel better at all.” But he couldn’t have been sure.

“Alohomora,” Draco hissed, making the door swing wide open. The room was as they had left it. Everything was in a state of disarray. Their things were all gone. Only faint traces, like the things archeologists found when they were sifting through the sands, revealed that they had ever existed there.

The blanket was exactly where Cassie said it would be; under her pillow, folded neatly for the next night. She hugged it to her happily when he produced it. “Yay!” Cassie squealed in delight. She proceeded to promise the blanket, as if it could talk back, that she would never leave it again and that she’d be more careful in the future. In spite of the danger they were in and the anger he should feel because she had been so careless, Draco smiled at her.

As they left the room, Draco took hurried steps back in Ginny’s direction. He knew every moment she was waiting for them was probably torture for her. Her eyes lit up when she saw them at the end of the hallway. “Hurry!” she cried, bouncing impatiently the way Cassie did whenever...well, just whenever. He smiled at her, to assure her that everything was all right and that they were all going to get out of there unscathed.

It was that moment that there was tiny, almost insignificant, “pop” just a few feet in front of Draco. The form of a man wearing black, hooded robes appeared a few meters in front of Draco, blocking the space that had been previously unoccupied. Behind the man, Draco saw Ginny go white with fear as her hand flew to her to cover her gasp. Draco stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at the Death Eater.

That’s Malcolm Braddock, he thought lazily since his brain didn’t appear to comprehend the gravity of the situation. He was three years below me at Hogwarts. Nasty kid, he was. Malcolm sneered at Draco. Hey! That’s my sneer! Draco thought indignantly. Bastard.

Draco didn’t even realize that he wasn’t behaving in proper crisis mode. And he didn’t notice Malcolm draw his wand until he heard Ginny’s scream. “INCENDIO!” Large flames sprung up around Malcolm’s ankles, singeing his clean, black robes before he danced away from Draco in the most ridiculous manner. Draco looked up at her. Something about the expression she wore made him understand why people said not to mess with a mother protecting her young.

And then he remembered that he was supposed to be protecting his young as well, and he felt very foolish. “Go!” he shouted to Ginny while Malcolm struggled to put out the fire. The Death Eater still blocked them from meeting up and Draco knew it would be no use to fight him, because the longer they waited, the more Death Eaters would arrive. “I’ll meet you where I first saw you,” he called, hoping she’d know that he meant the park bench in the square.

Ginny nodded. She pressed a button inside the lift and was gone. Suddenly, Draco felt very alone.

He ran in the opposite direction, holding his daughter tightly to him, swinging around corners and hoping that Malcolm, or anyone else, wasn’t behind him. He found himself at the top of a rusty, old stairwell. Many of the concrete steps were cracking or had large chucks already taken out of them. He started to carefully descend when Cassie said forcefully, “Not that way.” The level of confidence in her voice made him recoil instantly as if bitten. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was climbing up the stairs.

The stairs led to a small door that opened onto the rooftop. You idiot! The rooftop! he mentally berated himself. It was more than just a little shocking that he found himself running to the roof like every stupid, simpering hero-figure. The kind he had always made bitter sport of. How the heck was he supposed to escape from the roof? The Death Eaters were at the ground floor of the building and coming upwards. He had only managed to prolong the inevitable; to paint himself into an infuriating corner. Now, they were trapped.

Gotta get out of here, his mind whirled inside his skull. Every possible means of escape, no matter how foolish, danced in his head. He wanted to kick himself. What kind of Slytherin was he? He couldn’t come up with a simple plan to weasel his way out of trouble? No, that wouldn’t do. He was not going to get caught up on this rooftop like some poof cowering in fear.

Then, it struck him. His Nimbus 2001! He still had it inside his bag. He really hadn’t had any use for it after he had fled Malfoy Manor but it was really his only link to the life he had once led, and he had decided against just tossing it in the dust bin. He remembered thinking to himself that he might want to fly out of another window sometime.

We’re not stupid. We’re Draco Malfoy, his brain sang happily. The only problem was that he had done a Shrinking potion on it to get it to fit in his suitcase. He could undo it, but it would take precious time that he didn’t really have.

With shaking hands, he set Cassie down on the ground so he could find the broomstick. “Stay close to me,” he instructed. The fear on her face made it clear that she wouldn’t dare move an inch.

As Draco leafed through his bag, he heard the distinctive pop of a wizard apparating onto the roof behind him. His body tensed at the sound as a familiar sensation washed over him. It was the same one he got when he had been in trouble as a boy and knew he was about to be punished. He didn’t bother to look up right away. Even without the telltale swish of his cloak or snake-like way he walked, Draco had been expecting his arrival for some time now. In fact, he would’ve been disappointed had it been anyone else.

“Hello, Father,” he drawled.

Lucius didn’t return his greeting.

When Draco finally did look up, he saw his own face, just a bit older, staring down at him. Lucius was so handsome you could easily pretend that he was good. He was so pale it was like he was bathed in pure, white light. Something that heavenly just couldn’t be sent from the Devil. Draco knew all too well that was what made it so simple, almost natural, for his father to convince people he wasn’t the blackened soul he was. He could get whatever he wanted without even trying. Why bother doing it the hard way? It was easy for Lucius to do bad things because it was easy to get out of it. Draco knew all this because he looked an awful lot like his father.

There was, however, a very large difference between Draco and Lucius Malfoy. It was obvious when Cassie squealed and clutched her father‘s leg. Draco put his arms around her again and tried to calm her. She could see past Lucius’ exterior. Not fooled by his appearance, instinctively she was trying to get away from her grandfather.

For a brief moment, no one spoke and the world stood still. They stayed on their respective sides of the roof, with the wind whipping around their heads and tousling their blond hair, eyeing one another coolly. It was Lucius who eventually broke the silence.

“I didn’t think you’d sink so low,” he hissed, his eyes distant. “I’m disappointed in you, Draco.”

Draco found this highly amusing. After all, he thought Lucius was the disappointment. He didn’t relay this to his father though. He had been taught never to speak back to the man; to always show him respect. Lucius had already begun to speak again when he realized he wasn’t a boy anymore and that there were people far more worthy of his respect.

“Give me the girl,” he ordered, fully expecting Draco to obey.

Cassie squirmed even more frantically in her father’s arms. “Shh,” Draco whispered as he defiantly stood up so he’d be at his father’s eye level. “She doesn’t want to go with you. She doesn’t belong with Voldemort. Look! She’s scared. I won’t let you take her,” he said dramatically.

Lucius began to laugh. It sounded more like Voldemort’s laugh that Draco remembered. “Look at yourself, boy. Who do you think you are, high on this rooftop, posing heroically.” He smiled wryly. “You’ve been spending too much time with that silly Gryffindor.”

Draco narrowed his eyes to slits. He was used to Lucius taunting him, it was the crack about Ginny that made him feel as though he had been struck. Cassie stopped wriggling to give Lucius that, “Don’t talk about my Mummy,” look.

Not seeing, or not caring about, their anger, Lucius continued. “I doubt you’ll be so brave when the Dark Lord gets his hands on you. You betrayed him. No one betrays him.”

A thick silence fell. He tried hard to mask it with threatening tones, but Draco heard fear in his father’s voice. Draco had never heard it before and could barely recognize it. He knew Lucius didn’t harbor any caring for him. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t dare show it. No, his voice betrayed not fear for his son but fear for himself. He had seen the things the Dark Lord could do up close and personal. Everything that had gone wrong and it had been on his watch. His plans of greatness along side the Dark Lord were slowly slipping out of his grasp.

“It’s your fault,” Draco said pointedly. He held his father’s eyes as he spoke, making sure all of his words were heard. “All of this. It’s your fault. You were the one who chose to become a Death Eater. You dragged us all into it.” He looked sadly down at his daughter. “You gave her this cursed life. You were the one who introduced Ginny to Voldemort. You gave her that diary. You offered your own son up to him.” His voice cracked as he thought about what Cassie had told him earlier about his Mother. “Mum told me once you thought this was the best path for us. You thought it’d bring you and our family power. But all you’ve brought us is pain. Mum and I were the only people who ever gave a damn about you and you’ve tortured us in return. It’s all on your head.”

The muscles in Lucius’ jaw contracted sharply. “Don’t bring your mother into this,” he said angrily.

“I didn’t,” Draco growled.

“You should see the shape you left her in. She doesn’t even get out of bed anymore but she doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t eat. The doctors can’t find anything wrong with her. They can’t find a cause. But I know. I know that it’s because of you. When you left she broke. She loves you.” There was a pregnant pause before he added, “I don’t know why.”

Draco shook his head. “I wouldn’t have had to leave if you hadn’t --”

“You didn’t have to leave, boy! If you had just did what you were told, none of this would have happened!” Lucius all but shouted the words.

“Sorry I didn’t follow your plan,” Draco whispered sarcastically. “But nothing ever goes according to plan, father. You can’t pull my strings anymore.” As if he had said the magic words, Draco suddenly felt free. He could feel the wind around him once more and he felt like he could touch the sky above him.

He also felt very dumb for staying and having it out with his father. He had wasted precious time. It was over now though. He was getting out of there, fast. There would be action now, no more words.

In an instant, Lucius’ wand was out. He pointed it at his son. Draco remembered that look on his face from the first time his father had pulled his wand on him. But now with his daughter in his arms he didn’t feel afraid; he couldn’t afford to. He had to protect her. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but his wand was drawn too. The two Malfoys stood on opposite sides of the roof, wands outstretched, in dueling position.

“I only wanted what was best for you, Draco,” his father said in an unfamiliar tone that probably signaled that he was telling the truth, “and this is for the best.” Lucius opened his mouth to hurl a curse at his son. His set brow indicated that he was perfectly content to hit Draco so hard he would never wake up. The first syllable of his curse rang out in an assured and commanding voice. He wasn’t pulling any punches.

Then Cassie screamed. She dove for cover in her father’s arm, trying to shield herself from what she knew was coming. Lucius was surprised to hear her scream and saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. He gazed at her in wonderment. Draco was right; she was afraid of him. His granddaughter feared him. His son hated him. And his wife wouldn’t speak to him. He didn’t have any family left to alienate. Just for a split second: he stopped as this new information sunk in.

But Draco didn’t hesitate. “STUPEFY!” he shouted so loudly that the word echoed off the building. Red light flew from his wand and hit his father right between the eyes. The older man was swept off his feet by the force of the spell. He landed near the edge of the rooftop, dangerously close to falling to the busy street below.

Draco set Cassie down cautiously. He took a step toward where his father lay. The spell had done its duty. He was out cold, as cold as Draco felt. For once in his life, Lucius Malfoy looked peaceful. His wand sat forgotten where he had been standing a few seconds earlier. There was no use for wands when one was unconscious. Draco stopped a few steps in front of it. He didn’t dare get close. It was like the wand was a poisonous snake that he couldn’t touch.

He thought about all the things that wand had done, not just to him but to so many other people. He thought of the faceless Muggles, the countless wizards that he had tortured. Those, he couldn’t fix. He couldn’t waste his time on them. It was when he thought of Ginny that anger grabbed hold of him. Seized with a fit of rebellion, Draco lunged forward and snatched the wand off the ground. In one swift motion he snapped into two pieces. He stared at the pieces in his hand.

This is what they do when you’re expelled or before you’re imprisoned in Azkaban, he thought. The snake wasn’t so poisonous now.

Lucius didn’t stir. He slept silently while Draco hurried back his bag to produce his broom and the antidote to the Shrinking potion. Cassie made no sound. She had enough presence of mind to let him work without interruption. There would be more Death Eaters when Lucius didn’t return to them. They had to act quickly. When everything was in order, Draco turned to his daughter. The relief that Lucius wouldn’t be handing her over to Voldemort had worn off and was now mixing with fear. Her large eyes were wide with fear.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked gently.

She shifted, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. “Scared to fly,” she said almost in audibly like she was afraid to admit her weakness to him.

Draco smiled. “I won’t let you fall,” he assured her. Cassie hugged him tightly as they flew off into the sky.

* * *

The broomstick climbed higher and higher. Draco tried to keep an eye on the ground so he could tell where he was supposed to land, but that rational thought conflicted with the urgent notion that he had to get higher and go faster. He had to get away. He should’ve been worried about being seen by Muggles, or worse the Death Eaters, but rules had never mattered that much to him and they certainly didn’t matter now.

Cassie kept her hands firmly over her eyes the entire time. Draco worried that she’d fall off the thin wood so he had to hold her extra close. “Are we there yet?” she asked fearfully.

“Almost,” he assured her, trying to sound positive. “Just a little bit further.”

The truth was that he was starting to worry. He searched the landscape everywhere but he didn’t seen Ginny’s fiery, red hair anywhere. It had only just then occurred to him that she might not be there; that she might not have made it out of the hotel. He had been so busy worrying about himself and Cassie, he had just assumed that Ginny was fine.

What if Ginny wasn’t all right? He shuddered involuntarily. It was a sobering thought. It made him colder than a freezing spell in his pants. He loved Cassie. He would do anything for her, But could he possibly raise her without Ginny? Ginny, who had been Cassie’s only parent until a few weeks ago. Ginny, who understood Cassie better than anyone. Ginny, who knew what a family should be like. She, after all, hadn’t been raised by a Death Eater.

Cassie opened one eye behind her hand, looking for her Mum. Draco knew she wouldn’t ever be the same if Ginny didn’t appear soon. He wished she’d come running over the horizon and yell at him for being late. There wasn’t a cell in his body unaware of the simple truth: he couldn’t be a single father. He couldn’t do this without Ginny. It wasn’t even an option. He needed her. Either Ginny suddenly turned up, or everything went to hell in a hand basket.

He held his breath, hoping, but there was no sound. He landed the broom, gently in the middle of the green lawn. He turned to Cassie prepared to tell her that Mummy wasn’t there and they’d go look for her.

Draco was nearly scared to death when he heard a terrified, tear stained voice cry, “CASSIE!” He whirled around. It was like a miracle. He hadn’t seen or heard her approach but there she was, running towards them with their bags swinging back and forth in her arms.

As Ginny got closer, he could see the worry that marred her pale skin. Again, he opened his mouth to speak. Ginny wasn’t listening, she dumped the bags on the ground like they were garbage and pulled Cassie to her chest. He got the feeling that Ginny didn’t plan on ever releasing the girl.

“Mummy!” Cassie shrieked, wrapping her tiny arms around her Mother’s neck. “We were so worried about you!” Ginny managed to chuckle at the irony of that through her choked sobs.

Draco stood back and watched them embrace. He felt sort of out of place, like it was a private moment between the two girls. At the same time, he was seized with some maudlin emotion that made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away. He thought about where he had just come from in relation to where he stood now. His father had never hugged him like that, even when he was a very little boy. It was odd for him to watch, almost uncomfortable. He didn’t think they should be carrying on that way in a public forum.

But then again, he was struck by the rightness of it all. He knew he’d never be able to do that, to be like Ginny, but he certainly couldn’t go back to the rooftop and tell Lucius he was sorry and he wanted to be a family again. Because he wasn’t sorry and he didn’t want to be a family with Lucius, if you could even call it that.

Ginny squeezed Cassie tightly for what seemed like hours. All the while only one thought flickered through Draco’s brain: this was what a family was supposed to be like.

“Mummy...” Cassie said tentatively after a few moments. “Mummy, you can let go now...” She was clearly finished hugging, but Ginny wasn’t. If anything, Ginny was hugging her closer now. “MUMMY, LET GO!” Ginny’s only response was to kiss her all over. “Eww!” Cassie said as she tried to wipe it off. “Ewwww...”

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stalked down the hall of Malfoy Manor. The Death Eaters were all down in his study, trying to figure out why they failed. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell them that he had the child within his grasp. It was embarrassing enough that he had let her slip through his fingers, let alone that his only son had cursed him. His son, whom he had taught to duel, had bested him. He couldn’t believe it.

“Sir, sir,” sniveled the House Elf trying to tell him about something or other. “Sir, you is going too fast, sir,” the elf squeaked, desperately trying to keep up with Lucius’ long strides with it’s tiny, elf-sized legs.

“You’re going too slow,” he snarled, almost without thinking about it. He had to take his anger out on someone, and it was usually the house elves that filled that position. “What do you want?” He stopped abruptly to glare at the elf, who cowered under his gaze.

“Sir,” the elf whimpered apologetically, “we is wondering if we is to make dinner. If you is not wanting it then there is no reason...”

Lucius’ face darkened instantly. The elf squeaked. Fearing he had said something wrong, he began to beat his head against the wall. “Where’s Mrs. Malfoy?” he demanded.

“She is -” BANG!, “in her -” BANG!, “room, sir,” the elf said through loud smacks of his head against the wall. “She is -” BANG!, “sick again-” BANG! Lucius tore down the hallway, leaving the confused elf to his self-inflicted punishment.

His wife’s room was dark and Narcissa was in bed as usual. Heavy, velvet curtains shielded her from the light so she could sleep all day round. A single candle on the opposite side of the room provided the only light source. The room had the air of death to it. Still, Lucius threw the door open without concern for her.

“Get out of bed!” he all but shouted at her.

Startled, Narcissa wearily climbed into an upright position, though it seemed a difficult task for her. She pulled the curtains back to look curiously at her husband, but remained in bed. “Lucius, what is going on?” she asked sticking her nose up in the air with distaste.

“Get out of bed,” he said forcefully. “This has gone on long enough. Stop moping about.”

Narcissa stared at him aghast. “Our son --” she began her often-repeated reasoning for her present state, only to be violently cut of by Lucius.

“Has turned against us!” he roared. She only blinked bewilderedly. What was he going on about? “He’s helping the girl,” he seethed, quieter but more dangerously. “He’s protecting her from us. From me.”

She gasped. “You’ve seen Draco?” she asked hopefully, obviously not catching, or not caring about his anger. Did that mean he was all right? That he wasn’t hurt? Oh, she felt like she could sing, except her husband probably wouldn’t have appreciated that so she kept it to herself.

“He stunned me!” Lucius advanced closer to the bed, pointing his finger at her like it was a weapon. “He broke my wand. Me! His own father.”

Narcissa scoffed. She began to say, “You attacked him first, Lucius,” in a reasonable, lofty tone but decided against it.

“Sir?” called a timid voice from the doorway. “Ma’am?” It as the house elf; he had finally caught up to Lucius. “Sir,” he said in a very fearful voice, “The Dark Lord is wanting to see you, sir.”

Lucius paled. Under Narcissa’s watchful gaze, he struggled to regain his composure. “We’ll discuss this later,” he snarled at her as he strode out of the room. She nodded mutely, knowing that he wouldn’t give up and neither would she. The house elf made sputtering noises and hurried away, obviously trying to be as far from the Dark Lord as humanly possible.

He shut the door behind him with a loud snap. Narcissa stared at her single candle as it burned lower and lower. There were many thoughts dancing in her head now.

* * *

The young family decided to hop the first train out of town. It wasn’t as nice as the Hogwarts Express, but it got them gone and that what was important. It was hard not to wish that it was going to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore and to safety. Instead they were going to yet another Muggle town that would be about as safe as the last place they had been.

The train shook violently as Draco ambled back to their seats. It was hard to be graceful when the damn thing was shaking so. He could see Ginny wringing her hands a few aisles ahead. She had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place. He wondered if she would rather have stayed to fight the Death Eaters, like foolish Gryffindors would. She probably hated running more than he did. It made him feel a bit better to know he wasn’t the only one unhappy with this situation.

Draco plopped back down into his seat just as the train jerked so that another man who was standing was thrown halfway across the train. Draco smirked at him in a superior sort of way. Ginny elbowed him and shook her head. She would tell him off, but was trying to be quiet. Cassie was sleeping. Her tiny body took up two seats, well two and a half, since her head was rested in her mother’s lap. Draco didn’t know how the awkward position could possibly be comfortable but he kept quiet. It was just a good thing no one had purchased the seats next to them.

“Finally out?” he asked in hushed tones. Ginny nodded her assent. “Thank god.” He sighed and looked down at the steaming, hot chocolate he had been so careful not to spill on the way back. He had gone to get it for her. “Guess she doesn’t want this.”

He felt soft fingers wrap around his. He looked up to see Ginny taking the cup into her own hands. Her eyes were twinkling. “You want some?” she whispered as she took a sip.

He shook his head. “All yours.”

She eyed him mysteriously through the rising steam from the mug. She had rather large eyes. They were the deepest shade of brown, like coffee with spots that shown like gold in the light. He could almost see the thoughts that were dancing behind them but he couldn’t get a grasp on what they were. He wondered why he had never noticed before.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, but earnestly.

Puzzled, Draco cocked his head to one side. What did she have to be sorry for? “Sorry?”

“I doubted you.” She grinned enigmatically. “So I’m sorry.” She took another slow sip of her hot chocolate, forcing Draco to wait for her to explain. “I thought you would’ve gotten bored with us and left by now. When I said you could stay, I never thought you would.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said automatically, stunned that she had thought this. “Leave, I mean. I’d never leave.”

Ginny curled up in her seat, still being careful not to jostle Cassie’s head. She pulled her legs up and leaned against the back of the seat so she was facing him. It was as close to the fetal position as one could get with a child on your lap. Draco was struck by how childlike she looked herself. Sometimes, when Cassie was awake and Ginny was acting all motherly, it was easy to forget how young she was. She wasn’t even 25, younger than Draco.

“Good,” she said, not louder than a breath. “You can’t leave now because you’re starting to grow on me.”

Draco grinned. He knew that she meant that she liked not being alone; she liked having someone to talk to. It really didn’t matter that it was him just that he was a person, but he’d didn’t want to think of it like that. “Guess we’re stuck with each other, huh?”

She responded only by smiling as she took another sip.

“I missed so much,” he said suddenly, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. “I don’t want to miss anymore.”

He could feel her eyes on him, those big, brown eyes. Ginny could see how guilty he felt for not being around when Cassie was a baby. She could see it whenever Cassie said something and he didn’t know what she was talking about. It was like he had a sharp pain in his stomach. She knew he wanted to get that time back, but couldn’t. “You didn’t miss that much,” she lied through a few rapid mouthfuls of hot chocolate.

He chuckled wearily. “I missed her as a baby...”

“All you missed was smelly diapers and spitting up. All she did was shit and eat. It wasn’t that exciting. And we didn’t have enough money for real diapers so I had to cut up my robes...” her voice trailed off like she didn‘t want to think about it. “It was nasty.”

This didn’t make him feel any better. He could’ve helped. Still, rather than dwell on it he‘d rather play her game. “When her first teeth came in,” he pointed out.

Ginny made a face indicating that hadn’t been a pleasant time either. “She cried so loudly and so often, the Death Eaters nearly found us.”

“Her first words.”

She giggled. “That wasn’t so bad. I finally had someone to talk to.” She stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

He shook his head. He couldn’t believe she could make light of this. “What about her first steps?”

“Ah, the day that will live in infamy,” she said sagely. Ginny nearly spilled the entire cup of steaming, hot chocolate on Cassie’s head as she laughed at Draco’s confused face.

“Why do you call it that?”

She grinned knowingly. “You don’t want to know.”

“It must have been hard,” he said mournfully, killing her giggly mood. “Doing all of that by yourself.”

Ginny didn’t want to lie to him again. He seemed to know the truth already anyway. “Yeah, it was,” she agreed. “I had my days when I just wanted to give up. But there were days that were some of my happiest. You take the good with the bad.” She looked down at her nearly empty mug. “I try not to over think it, just keep going.“ He could tell that was the end of their conversation. She was trying to politely tell him to sod off.

“Well now you have me,” he added after a moment’s silence. “Doesn’t that make you feel all warm and squishy inside?” he asked wryly.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Not in the least. But at least you fetch hot cocoa.”

* * *

Lucius Malfoy cautiously opened the door to his study. The Death Eaters had long since fled to the safety of their own homes. Unfortunately for Lucius, his own home was where the danger was. The Dark Lord stood by the fire, watching the flames reduce a large log to ashes.

“Lucius...” he hissed when Lucius had barely set foot in the room. “Do you have anything to tell me?”

He thought back to the scene on the rooftop: Draco and him fighting, the girl screaming and then Draco stunning him. He had faltered. There was no way around it. They had escaped and it had been his fault. He couldn‘t tell the Dark Lord this. “No, sir,” he said stiffly.

“Any sniveling excuses you care to make?” Voldemort still hadn’t turned to look at him. It gave Lucius a sinking feeling in his stomach. Surely he would acknowledge the presence of his most trusted Death Eater.

“No, sir.”

“How did she escape this time?”

Lucius paused. He wasn’t sure if Voldemort meant the heir or Ginny Weasley. It didn’t really matter. “Draco is helping her.” He said his son’s name purposefully, making it known he had not referred to him as ‘Draco Malfoy’ or ‘my son’ for a specific reason.

“He’ll be dealt with,” Voldemort said airily. Draco was no challenge or matter to him. Finally, he turned to face Lucius. He was pale and menacing looking. “You saw the girl.” It wasn’t a question. The Dark Lord knew Lucius had come face-to-face with them. How much he knew was the variable. And that would decide whether Lucius lived or died.

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it.

“And she still got away?”

Lucius swallowed hard. This was the turning point. He had to answer this question in just the right words or Voldemort would surely kill him. He had spent the better part of his lifetime snaking out of tight spots. There was one sure way to talk you way out: play into his vanity.

“Yes,” Lucius said. Voldemort’s bright, red eyes got brighter in anticipation of his explanation. He didn’t know it would all be a lie. “The girl has power. She used it to stun me.”

If Voldemort was the type to dance, he would have. Of course the girl had power! She was truly his heir. Before he had doubts. He thought maybe his bumbling Death Eaters had botched the spell. But Lucius said she had power; power that rivaled Voldemort himself.

And if she was as powerful as him, then there was good reason his Death Eaters had always failed to capture her. After all, he was smarted and more powerful than all of them. There was only one thing left to do. “You can leave now, Lucius,” The Dark Lord instructed. “You’ll need to see Snape about the attack on the Ministry. Don’t bother planning anymore captures of my heir.”

Lucius swallowed his tongue. He wanted this job. He had been in charge of it, now the Dark Lord was taking away his power. Perhaps he hadn’t said the right thing after all. The Dark Lord didn’t appear to notice, he continued speaking with words that chilled Lucius to the core.

“If you want something done right, you do it yourself.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: It’s JK Rowling and a bunch of corporations’. I’m stealing. It’s early. See the other disclaimers for more sense.
NOTES: Thanks to all my reviewers! I did one of those things where I answer questions but I lost it now. Such is life. And thanks to Tessie and Amy, my betas. Though Tessie says she couldn’t find anything wrong with this chapter, which I find hard to believe. On with the show!

Ginny sighed as she sank to the bed. The mattress was hard and uncomfortable as hotel mattresses tended to be. In spite of this, it felt good to finally sit down. This was the third hotel they had stayed in this week. She was weary from running and longed to have a real home she could go to, some place she could finally unpack all her things and know that they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. But the fear of an attack was constantly at the forefront of her mind. It hung over all of them like a bad stench. They had to keep moving.

It had been nearly a month since the last attack and there hadn’t been so much as a peep from the Death Eaters since. They had never gone so long without one. It made her jittery. Ginny half expected Voldemort himself to be waiting around every corner. It kept her from being able to relax and enjoy the simple moments with her daughter. And Ginny hated that. She hated allowing him to ruin the only joy she had in life.

“Are you all right, Mummy?” Cassie asked with big eyes as she climbed into her mother’s lap. Draco was inspecting her curiously too from the doorway where he was lugging their bags into the room.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she sighed tiredly. “I’m just sleepy,” she said to Cassie.

“Oh. That’s because it’s bedtime!” Cassie observed, as if this should have been as plain as the nose on her face. Ginny smiled at the girl. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she had been able to remain so innocent with all the turmoil swirling around her.

“Go get ready,” Ginny instructed, giving her a little push on the back. Cassie immediately jumped down and disappeared into the bathroom.

Draco was still staring at her with a concerned expression. He found her protesting completely unconvincing. Ginny hated that he was worrying about her. It still didn’t feel quite right. Perhaps it was because it was still a shock to see worry cross his pointed features. “I’m fine,” she said again.

Draco remained unconvinced. All he could think was, the lady doth protest too much.

“I just need a goodnight’s sleep,” she said, noting his distrustful gaze.

He didn’t know how she’d ever be able to get to sleep with so much on her mind, unless she had found the on/off switch to her brain. The fact that she slept with Cassie wouldn’t help much either. Cassie kicked like a football player. Ginny had the bruises to show for it. He looked at the other bed thoughtfully, running his fingers through his hair. He really would like help Ginny out. She was wearing herself too thin.

When Cassie emerged from the bathroom, he crouched down on one knee to whisper in her ear. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed brightly apparently not noticing that he was trying not to disturb Ginny. “Mummy!” she cried. “Can I sleep with Daddy tonight?” She looked up at her mother with hopeful eyes.

Draco was sure that even if Ginny was looking forward to spending the night getting whacked out of peaceful slumber she couldn’t have said no to that face. She was only human, after all. Ginny smiled serenely. “Sure.”

Cassie bounced onto the bed, making sure to take up as much space as possible. She looked around from her perch, as if it were an entirely different room when she was on Daddy’s side. Ginny and Draco exchanged knowing glances. Her eyes wearily thanked him for being so uncharacteristically considerate.

“You’re a cover hog,” Draco grumbled teasingly as he climbed into bed with his daughter. She had pulled all the blankets up around her so they resembled a nest around a baby bird.

Cassie poked her head out of the nest, which was surely bigger than her. “I am not,” she said indignantly. ‘Cover hog’ was possibly the meanest insult he could throw at her.

“Are too,” he sighed as he lay down and struggled in vain to get a blanket to shield his body from the cold.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

A bubbly laughter lifted from the other side of the dark room. Draco could make out Ginny’s shaking form from underneath her warm(he thought jealously) blankets. Cassie turned to look at her mother, who was now laughing so hard she had to sit up or she might choke.

“Mummy’s laughing at you,” she said to Draco in a neener-neener-neener- type voice.

“Mummy’s laughing at you,” Draco shot back playfully.

Cassie gasped, horrified. She seemed to be searching for an appropriate, intelligent response. “Nuh-uh!” she cried.

“Yuh-huh...”

* * *

The morning came all too quickly. Draco felt as though he hadn’t slept at all, yet somehow it was time to wake up. He couldn’t figure it out. Cassie apparently lived in some parallel universe where you could get enough sleep in five minutes to be energized because she was up, bouncing around the room at ungodly hours. She’d bounce over to his sleeping spot to pull on his arm, shouting, “Come on, Daddy. Get up!” He’d grumble about her being the devil child and try to go back to sleep. Then a few minutes later, she’d come back and yell at him more impatiently.

“Can’t we just sleep in today?” he asked her finally, annoyed at being woken up for the billionth time.

She looked thoughtful, as if weighing the options. “No,” she said quickly and finally. “Today Mummy said we’d get me new shoes.” She held out her little feet, which did not have any shoes on them because she couldn’t tie them herself. She wiggled her toes for dramatic effect.

Draco looked over at the lump of blankets that was Ginny. She was apparently slumbering undisturbed. He grumbled inwardly wondering why he had to be tortured and Ginny got to stay in bed. He briefly entertained the idea of it being the universe’s idea of payback for the five years she had to raise Cassie alone but quickly shrugged it off. Maybe the universe was cruel, but Cassie didn’t think like that.

As if she were reading his thoughts, Cassie spoke up, in a chipper, well-rested voice. “Mummy’s sick,” she explained, “She can’t come.” Then she grinned, enjoying the idea of time alone with Daddy. She didn’t get to spend much time with him when her mummy wasn’t around. And now they could spend the whole day together.

That same thought occurred to Draco as well. It just didn’t have the same effect. He was rarely alone with Cassie. Ginny provided the much needed function of explaining Cassie’s baffling mannerisms. He wasn’t sure if he could do it alone. What if she said something and he didn’t know what she was talking about? Or something went wrong and he didn’t know how to handle it? So he did the only thing he could: panic.

“Are you sure you want to go shoe shopping without Mummy?” he asked, trying not to sound like he was begging her. It was best if he didn’t show fear. He just hoped she couldn’t smell it like a dog.

She bobbled her head up and down. “I need them. Mummy says I can’t walk around barefooted. I dunno why.” She crooked to the side (some people just did that with their head, Cassie used her whole body) and watched him as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and generally tried to wake himself up. “All right, Daddy?”

“Corking,” he muttered.

Cassie grinned widely, “’kay!” she exclaimed, not catching his heavy sarcasm.

Grudgingly, Draco rolled out of bed. Fatherhood wasn’t like Hogwarts. There, he could have Crabbe and Goyle tell Professor Sprout he was beside himself with despair over Cedric Diggory’s death and wouldn’t be making the early Herbology class or he could con Pansy Parkinson into giving him the notes. “Give me a minute, ok?” Cassie’s only response was to continue bouncing impatiently. “You know, they’ll still have shoes at noon,” he grumbled on his way to the bathroom, but she didn’t hear him.

He tried to think up excuses that would satisfy her. They ranged from: “Gee, don’t you think Mum will be sad if we go without her?” to “Bloody hell! I just don’t want to!” but none of them held any water. So before long he found himself exiting the hotel with his five-year-old holding his hand. She liked to jump in the lift, to the annoyance of the other people, because the floor came up to meet her. It made the well-bred part of him want to inch away and pretend he didn’t know her. But that nagging “father” part of him thought it was the cutest thing ever, so he smiled.

It was vital that he kept a close eye on her. Every now and again, she’d see something that she fancied and would want to wander off in it’s direction. These were usually perfectly ordinary things like leaves or people in funny hats. He couldn’t understand why she found them so fascinating. Whenever he saw she was about to drift he’d say, “Cassie, stay by me,” and she’d dutifully wrap both of her arms around his leg. This made it very hard to walk so it took an hour to make it to the store.

“Which way?” he asked her when they got to a fork in the road. Several Muggles behind him sighed exasperatedly when they saw that they were stopping again.

“That way,” Cassie pointed to her left. Draco didn’t know where the store was but Cassie seemed to, so he didn’t question her. He had learned not to do that by now.

“We’re almost there. You can let go of my trousers now,” he said, grinning, as they approached the location Cassie had pointed out.

She looked up at him with large eyes. She was silent for a moment, pretending to actually think it over then she shook her head, “nuh-uh.” He felt her arms get tighter around his leg as if she were afraid he was going to bolt. “I stay.”

He chuckled. “You’re annoying.”

She bounced happily. “That’s what Mummy says!” she proclaimed proudly. He wasn’t sure if she was proud for herself or for him. He got the feeling that it was the latter.

Suddenly, her eyes went all wide. “Oooh,” she cooed as if she had just beheld Elysium. He turned to see what it was she was looking at. It was just a plain, Muggle store. There wasn’t anything terribly exciting about it. He tried to see what Cassie was so interested in. Then it hit him: shoes.

“This is the store?” he asked with a gulp, even though he already knew the answer. Cassie bobbled her head.

It wasn’t that Draco was afraid to go into the Muggle store. He was just uncomfortable with it. For starters, he didn’t have any Muggle money. And he had never been in one. He had been near some when Ginny went in, but he always stayed outside. He had never been allowed around Muggles or Muggle items when he lived at Malfoy Mansion. There was still a lingering since of it being forbidden. Add to that the vague distaste he had for all Muggles coupled with the constant fear that he’d do something stupid in there and one could understand why Draco didn’t want to go in.

“You sure?” he asked. Again, Cassie bobbled her head, like one of those irritating sports dolls. He would’ve taken her away by now if it weren’t for the longing gaze she was giving a particularly tacky pair of pink sneakers.

He sighed and took a step forward. Oh, the things he did for his kid.

* * *

A few minutes later, they emerged from the store hand in hand and with identical grins of satisfaction on their faces. Draco was pleased that he had remembered the spell that transfigured galleons into Muggle money. He still didn’t know what all the paper bills meant, so he threw a bunch of them at the clerk and trusted him to make the right change. But other than that, he hadn’t done anything to make Cassie roll her eyes at him, a definite up side.

Another thing he couldn’t complain about was that Cassie was no longer attached to his leg. She was walking in wide, sweeping steps so he could get the best possible view of her new shoes. She had insisted on wearing them out of the store. Not that she needed any help seeing them; they could stop traffic. Draco didn’t mean that in a figurative “they’re beautiful” sense, but in the literal “they’re as bright as a stop light” sense.

They were the only pair of bright pink, high tops in the store. Draco assumed this was because there wasn’t anyone else who would want such a shoe, thank god. They had some cartoon character on the side. He didn’t recognize it. But the laces were the best part. They were every color of the rainbow all dotted in together, and if that wasn’t bad enough: they were glittery.

Cassie particularly enjoyed how they sparkled in the sunlight and couldn‘t help but look down to watch. This manner of walking allowed them to go about as fast as Crabbe and Goyle walking away from food. Draco would walk about four paces, sigh exasperatedly and wait, with his arms folded, for her to catch up to him then he’d walk four paces and she’d have fallen behind again. He felt as though he was moving a large herd of animals, not one little girl.

By the tenth time this happened, Draco was very irritable. He turned around to tell her to hurry up when he noticed that she was considerably farther back than usual. She wasn’t staring at her shoes anymore, instead she was drooling over something else. “Cassie!” he yelled, but she didn’t respond. He stepped closer, curious to see what had given her such an awed expression and a bit annoyed that she wasn’t paying him any attention.

“Ooooh,” he could hear her sigh contentedly.

“Cassie?” he asked. “What is it.”

She turned her gaze up to him with the biggest smile he had ever seen. “Look, Daddy!” she cried and pointed to a store window. “It’s Sleeping Beauty’s Castle,” she said the name with the reverence reserved for gods. Draco raised an eyebrow. It was just a pink, doll castle that in no way resembled the one in the movie. She grabbed his arm harshly, pulling him down to her level trying to get him to see what she saw. “It’s comes with Princess Aurora and Prince Philip!” she squealed. “There’s a secret chamber in the top that hides a spinning wheel that really spins! It‘s got fairies that fly around the outside and working moat!”

“It’s nice,” he replied half heartedly.

It didn’t seem so fantastic to him. It came with two, pretty ugly dolls that weren’t a good representation of the movie characters. The “flying” fairies were three colored dots that traveled on a track outside. The spinning wheel did really spin but it was just a toy and it wasn’t like you could use it. He couldn’t think why anyone would want a real spinning wheel anyway. And the working moat would surely end up as the world’s biggest mess. Despite his misgivings, Draco didn’t mention all these things to Cassie. She was far to excited over it for that. She probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

Her eyes shone hopefully. “Can I get it for my birthday?”

Draco frowned. Her birthday? “When’s your birthday?” he asked before he even realized the words had slipped out of his mouth. He knew when her birthday was: April 17th. He just hadn’t been keeping good track of time the last few years. He immediately felt guilty, even though Cassie didn’t look mad. It was simply another one of those things that he should’ve known as her father.

She happily held up all ten of her fingers. “Mummy said it was this many plus one.” She moved one had over so she could add a finger to her left hand, indicating eleven.

“When was that?” he asked.

“Thursday,” she answered proudly.

It was Monday now. That meant her birthday was exactly one week away! He couldn’t believe he hadn’t known about this. He should’ve been preparing, buying her gifts or something. Whenever he had a birthday, Narcissa had thrown a big party and invited lots of kids he didn’t like so he could gloat about all his new, expensive toys.

Cassie returned to staring intently at the castle, while Draco contemplated this new information. He briefly considered, marching right into that store and buying her the castle. But on second thought, he’d have to ask Ginny about it first. She might have already bought Cassie something or had something planned. Even if she did, though, he wanted to make this Cassie’s best birthday ever.

“Draco?” called an unfamiliar voice, shaking him out of his reverie. “Draco Malfoy?”

He turned, miffed, to face this unexpected interruption. She was tall, with long legs sticking out of a short skirt and black hair dripping down her back. Her slightly exotic features were struck a familiar cord, but he couldn’t quite place her. He mentally flipped through the images of girls that went to Hogwarts, but that wasn’t it. She had never been to Hogwarts. Besides, her accent wasn’t English even though she spoke the language perfectly.

“Fancy meeting you hear,” she said with a suggestive twinkle in her eye.

“Hello,” he smiled politely, as if he had any clue who she was. “How are you? It’s been awhile.”

The woman laughed falsely and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She started rambling on about this and that. He didn’t pay much attention. He was examining her closely, trying to place her face. It was coming back to him very slowly. It had been about seven years ago. He met her through a mutual acquaintance. They had gone out to dinner. She had flipped her hair a lot. And if he wasn’t mistaken, there had been a lot of sex.

But what was her name? Emma? Amy? No. But it did have a ‘y.’ Tracy? Courtenay?

Er, he gave up. Her name didn’t matter anyway. Because, she didn’t matter. Back then, none of them had mattered. He could only vaguely comprehend what he had seen in her. Besides the long legs, there wasn’t much. She certainly wasn’t interesting, as could be observed from his inability to pay attention to a thing she said.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, having no idea what she was talking about.

She grinned like a predator stalking its prey and stepped closer. “So, what have you been up to?”

Draco sighed. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Well, I probably slept with a dozen girls just like you after we stopped seeing each other. I didn’t really miss you, in fact, I’ve forgotten what your name is. I went home, had lots of spells put on me by my father, impregnated this girl who I absolutely hated with my child. Congratulate me, it’s a girl! Her name is Cassandra. I thought she was dead for a good while there, and I moped around Europe like a big prat. I found them and now I’m taking my daughter, who is nearly six, out to buy some shoes.’

“Um, not much...” was all that came out.

“Daddy?” Cassie said suddenly, interrupting them. Draco looked down at her. She was tired of the store now and was looking up at him impatiently. When she wanted to stay, he had to wait but when he was busy, she’d get grumpy if she was forced to stay a minute longer than she wanted. “Can we go?”

The woman giggled behind her hand as if she expected Draco to tell the little girl off. “Yeah,” Draco answered with a bitter look at her. “We can go.”

“Wait a minute!” she exclaimed. “You are a father?” She said it as if it were the most ridiculous idea in the entire world. Draco puffed up irritably. Why was that so hard to believe. Defensive insults began to swirl in his head. He didn’t have to take this from what’s-her-name.

But it was Cassie who cheerfully answered her question. “Yeah,” she grinned. “He’s the best Daddy ever.”

Draco smirked as he watched the reaction of the woman. She was absolutely dumbfounded and seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Her mouth just hung wide open as she watched Draco lift Cassie into her arms.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled ironically as he walked away. “She’s not yours.”

And for that, he thanked the Lord.

 
* * *

Ginny was up waiting for them when they got back to the hotel. She grinned broadly when she saw Cassie, who ran to give her a big hug. “You all better?” Cassie asked. She reached up to feel her mother’s forehead like a doctor taking care of her patient.

“Mummy! I want Sleeping Beauty’s Castle for my birthday!” she screeched. It made Draco’s head hurt.

Ginny’s face fell, “Are you sure?” Cassie nodded emphatically.

Cassie was so happy and it only made Ginny feel horrible. She knew they wouldn’t be able to get that toy for her. It was too big and wouldn’t fit in her suitcase. They’d have to leave it like her old doll. And it was worse to get it for her and then have to leave it behind than it was to never get it at all. Ginny really would’ve like to get the castle though. It was the one thing that Cassie really wanted and Ginny could remember all too well what it was like to be a little girl, who desperately wanted this doll or that doll but couldn’t have it. Ginny didn’t have the heart to tell her ‘no.’ “We’ll see,” she whispered hearing the echoes of her own mother in her head. “We’ll see.”

Draco sighed as he collapsed on the bed. He wasn’t watching the exchange. In fact, he was trying to tune out the voices of Cassie and Ginny. The encounter with his ex had been uncomfortable and disturbing. It had reminded him of a life he had lived years ago. He wanted to say that he was different now and that he was “grown up.” But the truth was that having a child hadn’t changed any of that. That boy was still inside him. And he wanted to get out.

He tried to remember what it had been like with her but he couldn’t really remember which one was her. They all blurred together. She could’ve been that one in Venice or that one in Bath. Who knew? His attempts to call back the specifics were futile.

“Draco?” Ginny asked. He couldn’t see her concerned face with his eyes closed.

“Mmm?” He grunted his only response. He was still trying to tune her out.

The closest thing he could remember was the last time he had been with a woman. It was months ago. He had stopped in some town, he couldn’t remember the name, during his depression and had stumbled across her. He wouldn’t have called her “pretty” to be exact. But there had been something about her that had captivated him. Something very specific about her...

“Are you ok?” It was Ginny again. She was getting annoying; he was trying to relive a pleasant memory here!

“Mmm,” he grunted his assent.

She had been the one to approach him. He just didn’t have the heart to make her leave him alone. She said he looked sad and sincerely wanted to help him. He tried telling her that she couldn’t help him, that no one could. She just laughed at him and told him he was being melodramatic.

“You don’t look all right,” Ginny continued.

Draco didn’t answer this time. He was thinking about the way she kissed, how soft her lips were. She had been soft all over. He especially remembered her hair. It was feather-light and tickled him. He had liked running his hands through it.

“Draco!” Ginny yelled more demandingly.

He closed his eyes tighter, trying to shut Ginny out. He was trying to remember. It seemed important some how, like his subconscious was trying to tell him something. He determinedly tried to hold onto his thoughts: Her hair. It was kind of curly and twirled around his fingers...

“DRACO!”

... It spilled down her back like a waterfall...

“Hello? Draco? DRACO!”

... No, it wasn’t like a waterfall. It had been like something else...

“Daddy?”

... Like leaping flames...

Like flames because, it had been red. Her hair was red. He had liked that about her.

His eyes snapped open. Ginny was looking at him with an odd expression. He saw something like concern flicker across her face before it was replaced by a glare. “What?” he croaked hoarsely, a little dazed and bewildered.

Cassie giggled from her perch in her mother’s arms. “You’re silly, Daddy.”

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stared dutifully ahead at his Master. The rest of the Death Eaters were circled around a black, marble table wearing similar rapt expressions. Their planned attack on the Ministry of Magic was rapidly approaching. It had been in the works for some time now. Several of the Death Eaters had been devoted to only this occasion for the last year. Voldemort was impatiently explaining every detail for the fourth time to the slower members.

Wormtail looked rather like a boy in Professor McGonagall’s transfiguration class, trying to force himself to remember every word. Crabbe and Goyle looked as though they planned on using their tried and true method of just doing what everyone else did. Walden MacNair was the most excited of the group. He had been dreaming of the day for ages. Severus Snape was staring at the Dark Lord with an unreadable expression. Lucius already knew Snape had every detail committed to memory.

Lucius wondered if Snape, or any of the other Death Eaters, thought this was as unnecessary as he did. The plan was relatively simple, certainly not the kind of thing Lucius would dream up. He had been only marginally involved in the planning, as he had been with every other scheme since he had failed to retrieve his granddaughter.

But still he felt gnawing anxiety building in his chest. This battle would be a turning point. If they captured the Ministry then Voldemort would put a new order in place. He would certainly need people to run it for him. Lucius snuck a glance at Snape, who was still wearing that same mask of no expression. Many of Voldemort’s most trusted Death Eaters had died in the fight or in Azkaban, Snape and Lucius himself were two of the only Death Eaters left with the skill or the brains it took to run a government.

He remembered young Draco’s voice now. “He’s the best teacher in the school, Father,” he said in the drawling, adoring voice of a twelve year old, “You should elect him Headmaster...”

Snape nodded thoughtfully as Voldemort said something to him, unaware of the jealous looks he was getting from Lucius. He couldn’t figure out how Snape did it. Surely Dumbledore had some idea that he was acting as their spy. Lucius didn’t have a high opinion of the man but he would’ve expected Dumbledore to catch on by now, unless he thought Snape was their spy... But how could he possibly think that Snape would turn on the Dark Lord? Snape had seen first had what Voldemort did to traitors and those who disobeyed him. Again, Lucius’ thoughts turned to his son.

He felt Voldemort’s cold eyes slithering over him, and tried to look firm. Now was the time, he thought as he steeled himself with new resolve. He would make sure this worked. He’d make Voldemort trust him again. Then, he’d be in power again. He’d be able to fix it. He’d fix it all and bend the world to his will.

“There’s still one more thing I have to take care of beforehand,” Voldemort was saying, but his voice sounded so far away.

Lucius tried not to react, knowing perfectly well what he was talking about. This had to happen, he reminded himself. Soon, things would be different...

* * *

Cassie cuddled up next to her father rather like she was trying to make a burrow in his side. Her tiny chest heaved up and down as she snored softly. Draco couldn’t really appreciate the irony of the situation. She had been the one to wake him up out of peaceful slumber. But now that it was “nap time,” as she called it, he couldn’t get to sleep no matter how tired he was.

He kept sneaking looks at Ginny, who was methodically making her own bed. He remembered very little of those nights they had spent together to conceive Cassie, but now it seemed like every single flash he had was painted on the back of his eyelids when he closed his eyes. What did this mean? Why were these thoughts haunting him now? The answers to these questions were more disturbing than leaving the questions unanswered.

Ginny turned around to look at him when she heard the thump of his head falling back against the pillow. She smiled at him pleasantly, completely unaware of the things going on in his head. “I thought you were Cassie again,” she whispered. Earlier, Cassie had been seized with fitful nightmares but she had mercifully quieted down since then.

“No, she’s good.” He wanted to say something else, to tell her but he was afraid of the possible reaction. Things had just become semi-normal between them and he didn’t want to jeopardize it. But he also knew this would be one of the few times he would have to discuss anything with here. They never got to have an adult conversation unless Cassie was asleep. “Ginny, I --” A polite knock at the door interrupted Draco in mid-sentence.

She grinned easily, with no clue of what was about to happen between them. “Hold that thought. I think that’s the maid.” She shook her head as she walked over to the door. Draco sure was acting strangely today. She wondered what he had been trying to say. He had looked so earnest. She bet that the moment had passed and he would say it was nothing when she got back. She knew him better than he thought.

So it was with a heavy regret that she turned the gold colored doorknob. It stuck and she had to really twist it to get the door open. This was deeply annoying, or perhaps she was annoyed over other things. The point was, Ginny wasn’t happy that there was somebody standing on the other side of her door.

She was even less happy when she saw who it was.

All Draco heard was a sharp cry of surprise then the loud bang as the door was quickly slammed shut again. “Draco!” she screamed. If Ginny had meant to say anything else, it never made it to her lips. It didn’t matter. The sheer panic in her voice instantly roused him from the bed. He rushed to see what was the matter. What he saw instead was Ginny’s body being flung across the room, along with the door, which had been blown off its hinges, and other various debris.

She landed in a heap at the foot of the other bed, the door in splinters covered her like a blanket. Fear gripped him. She wasn’t moving. She was unconscious... or worse.

“I thought this was going to be more difficult,” said a slippery voice from the doorframe. “Pleased to see I was wrong.”

Draco turned to meet the ruby-red eyes of Lord Voldemort himself. He lazily stepped into the room. Instinctively, Draco drew his wand and stood in front of Cassie’s no longer sleeping form. She sat upright in bed. Her watery eyes kept darting from Voldemort to where her mother lay. She was shaking so hard from the fear that no words came out.

There wasn’t any way out of this, or at least there wasnt one Draco could see. He was continuously looking for some escape. He couldn’t get to the door to run anyway. He wouldn’t leave Ginny and Cassie anyway. And he certainly couldn’t beat Voldemort in a wizard’s duel. His wand somehow seemed so useless now, like he was counting on a blanket to give him shelter in a tornado.

“Daddy!” Cassie squeaked, frightened. Both Voldemort and Draco turned to look at her. “Why won’t Mummy get up?” she sobbed.

Draco could think of no words to soothe her fears. He was wondering that himself. Voldemort, on the other hand, chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, we can fix that,” he said slyly. “Imperio.”

Suddenly, Ginny’s body leaped to its feet like a puppet’s strings had just gone taunt. Cassie gasped from behind Draco. He couldn’t look to see if she was all right, his own eyes were riveted to Ginny’s blank stare. She was going to attack him. Draco knew what Voldemort was expecting. Good guys would rather die than hurt each other. He would just turn them on each other and then Draco would surrender.

Again, Draco’s mind began racing, looking for a way out. There were very few options and none of them were good. He could refuse to hurt Ginny. He did, after all, have these brand spanking new confusing feelings for her that made the idea of hurting her actually physically painful to him. Then Voldemort would capture all three of them. He’d do with Cassie whatever it was he had planned while Draco and Ginny would be tortured or killed. He could try to fight both Ginny and Voldemort which was an exercise in futility even without the redhead thrown into the mix.

All the while, Ginny was slowing advancing on Draco while Voldemort tried to gauge his reaction. Draco wasn’t readable at all. He hid his emotions very deep below the surface. All that Voldemort could gather was that he was acutely aware of the wand clutched in Ginny’s hand. It was the same one she had stolen from his loyal Death Eater.

“Ginny, you don’t want to do this,” Draco whispered, trying to think of what Harry Potter would say, which amounted to him saying the cheesiest things that came to mind. “Fight it.” Ginny didn’t appear to hear him or if she did, she didn’t respond except to continue toward him.

He frowned. This was useless. He was only doing what the Dark Lord had planned. He was supposed to be making things easier for himself not his opponent. “Sod it,” he grumbled. “STUPEFY!” Ginny instantly sank to the ground as the spell struck, her strings no longer being pulled.

Before Voldemort had time to adjust, to the change in plans, Draco whirled on him. “Conjuctiva!” the spell hit Voldemort squarely in his scarlet eye. He cried out angrily and grasped his head.

Draco rushed to the bed and pulled Cassie sharply into his arms. He ordered his mind to remember every nasty hex he had ever learned under the eerie, green light of the Slytherin common room. He hurled them incessantly at Voldemort. The Dark Lord had shrugged off any effect the curse had on him and he was now dodging Draco’s hexes like they were gnats buzzing around his ear.

He began to chant something in a unnaturally deep voice. It was in a language that Draco didn’t understand. The words caused a sense of dread to rise up in him. How could he fight something if he didn’t know what to expect? If the unknown were a tangible thing it would have been swirling around the pair like a dark mist.

Cassie screamed. Seconds later, Draco understood why. Slowly, she was rising in the air, lifting out of his arms. It was almost as if the wind was doing it with no aim or direction. He looked like the kind of thing Cassie would’ve enjoyed if it had happened under different circumstances. Draco desperately trying to grab hold of her. Every time he jumped, she would drift just that much further out of his reach, as if Voldemort were taunting him. He’d never catch her. He had to make it stop.

Draco turned to face Voldemort again. He was smirking at Draco who had looked rather silly hopping up and down trying to grab Cassie. Draco didn’t know what spell he could possibly to that Voldemort couldn’t deflect. And even if he could think of one, he wasn’t sure he could stop what he was doing to Cassie. He hated feeling so powerless. He wanted to be able to handle this, to save the day. What kind of father let his only child drift off with the man she feared most in the world?

Voldemort started to hiss some more words that Draco didn’t understand. He clasped his hands leisurely behind his back. All the while, sweat never appeared on his scaly skin. He wanted to make sure that Draco knew: he wasn’t a worthy opponent. The only proof that Voldemort even knew Draco was there was that he was glaring menacingly at him. His psychological tactics were working. Draco had never felt so useless in his entire life.

With the incantation finished, Voldemort stood back and waited for it to take effect. Draco watched helpless as his world began to darken. The edges of his vision, the tattered remnants of the room fogged over first then Ginny and Cassie disappeared until only Voldemort was left, smirking. Then everything went black and he felt his head slam against the floor but he didn’t hang onto unconsciousness long enough to feel the pain rip through his body.

The last thing he heard was Cassie. She was screaming for her father.

* * *

Draco didn’t know how long it was before he was roused by trembling hands shaking him. He blinked rapidly. The light was too much for his eyes. Slowly, everything blurred into focus, in the opposite manner of how he had come to be in this state in the first place. Now, instead of Voldemort standing in front of him, Ginny was crouched over him.

She was crying. Only small droplets of water fell down her face, as though the hysteria had passed but the pain wasn’t gone. He only needed one look at her to know. “He’s got her.”

With this declaration, Ginny broke into a fresh fit of sobs.

Draco was glad that she was all right. She had taken a pretty bad beating. He was amazed that they were both still intact. He glanced around the hotel room. The same thing couldn’t be said for it. It looked like a war had been fought there. They would definitely be charged extra. On some level he was annoyed that Voldemort hadn’t thought them dangerous to capture them too. He had just left them to their despair.

Ginny’s head was buried in her hands. He could hear muffled cries but that was all. He hadn’t the foggiest idea of what he should say to her. He knew there weren’t words that could make her feel any better. After all, he was an old pro at losing a child. He could already feel that familiar emptiness building in his stomach. He knew her pain. At the same time, he was worried about her. It was different for her. She wasn’t used to being alone, to having no one to love. As she cried herself silly, Draco worried that she would wear herself out. She was just crying so much. He didn’t know how it was possible. Of course, he hadn’t shed a tear yet.

“I’m sorry,” he said stonily. She looked up at him. He could see the trails of blotchy, red that the tears left on her sensitive skin. “I’m really sorry,” he said again when it became clear that she didn’t have the foggiest idea what he was apologizing for. “I couldn’t protect her.”

She made an effort to wipe the tears from her face. He rather wished she wouldn’t look at him with those big eyes and be shocked that he would think that it was his fault. It’d be easier if it was. Then she could get mad at him, put the Jelly Legs Jinx on him and feel better. But she didn’t blame him. She didn’t get mad, instead she said: “You tried. It was more than I could’ve hoped you’d do.” She smiled wryly, remembering their conversation the night he had arrived. “It was very Gryffindor of you.”

He hated to see her like this. She looked so empty, so afraid. She shivered violently even though the room were no colder than before. It just felt like it was, either because Voldemort had been there or because Cassie wasn’t. Draco painfully crawled onto the bed, to sit next to her. His whole body protested the effort. He didn’t know what to do for her or what else to say to her. He couldn’t think. Maybe it was because the reality of the situation hadn’t hit him yet. Or perhaps it was because of the sharp blow he had suffered to the head.

Draco stretched out his legs and looked at his shoes. Just a little while ago he had bought Cassie new shoes. He wondered if she missed him. He wondered if she was afraid. Voldemort could’ve done anything to her in the time that had elapsed. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had been passed out. For all intents and purposes, it was years ago that he taken his daughter shopping for shoes. How long they sat there was immeasurable. It felt like forever. Every moment was a new torture. He hoped to god it wasn’t the same for Cassie.

Eventually Ginny’s sobs quieted down and then ceased all together. At first, he was relieved. She was going to make herself sick. But it wasn’t as positive a thing as he had hoped. She merely stared straight ahead and didn’t even blink. She only moved to shiver. The fill the room filled with eerie silence.

“Come on, Ginny,” he breathed as he poked her, trying for some reaction out of her. She didn’t move, just stared ahead with unseeing eyes. “Ginny,” he tried again, “maybe you could lay down. I bet you’ll feel better in the morning,” he said this knowing full well that she could sleep like Princess Aurora and wouldn’t feel any different. Slumber would just be a pleasant distraction from this catatonia.

“I’ll lay here with you if you don’t want to be left alone,” he offered hopefully. Ginny didn’t answer. Her head dropped to the side, as if it were too heavy for her neck to hold up. Draco pulled her closer so it rested gently on his shoulder. Awkwardly, he stroked her hair, wondering how in the world he had become the one who had to comfort Ginny Weasley.

“Ginny...” he whispered almost desperately. She was frightening him now. He really didn’t want to lose both of his girls in one day. That would mean there was no one left. The only other person who had ever given a damn about him was his mum, and look what he had done to her. He was like the antithesis of King Midas: everything he touched turned to crap.

And then, just when he thought he’d never hear her voice again, she spoke. “I want me Mum,” she sobbed nuzzling closer to the warmth of his body. He could hear new tears in her voice. “I want my baby.” Sadly, he wrapped his arms tighter around her. He wouldn’t object to those things. “I want my family.”

Ok, he’d object to that one but only because her many brothers would probably beat him to a bloody pulp for getting their sister pregnant. For her sake though, he’d be willing to get them. Then he’d run for cover.

“We’ll get her back,” he murmured gently, trying to reassure himself as well.

Ginny looked up at him with hopeful eyes, still shining from the tears she had shed. Her lips quivered, like she was trying to think of something appropriate to say but was failing. It was rather unexpected, but not entirely unwanted, when she instead pressed her lips against his own.

For a brief moment, he was able to forget everything that had happened. Everything was simple. There was kissing and that was all. Her hands roamed from his hair to his back and then returned to his hair. She was warm and her lips were soft. It made him feel like he wasn’t alone anymore.

This was, after all, how it was supposed to be. It’s what he had pictured in his mind all those years when he thought them dead. He didn’t just want to be a father to Cassie, but a real family. A real family, like the ones he had seen at a distance. What he couldn’t figure out was why he hadn’t kissed her before. Cassie had continuously tried to get them together.

“You should kiss and make up,” she’d say hopefully then bounce up and down the way she did. And every time he’d get a lurch in his stomach but when the moment came, he’d hesitate. This isn’t the time, he’d think.

Unexpectedly, an image began to form in his head. It was Cassie. Then it was Ginny, crying softly. She wasn’t in any shape to be making these kind of decisions. Come to think of it, neither was he. The little girl had left a hole, and Ginny was trying to fill it. If he continued with this now, he’d never know if it was what she really wanted.

This isn’t the time, he thought.

Resignedly, he pushed her shoulders back. “Ginny...” he began, doubting whether he could properly describe why he was pushing her away when she needed him most. She looked at him, completely shattered. There was so much pain there, he knew he’d never be able to understand it completely. His heart was just two sizes too small.

“Dormio.” He cast the sleeping spell without thinking about what he was doing. Ginny’s body slumped against the mattress with a muted thud. Draco began the painful process of untangling his limbs from hers. He put a pillow beneath her head and covered her in blankets. He hoped she’d have untroubled dreams, but he doubted that was possible. He contemplated making the Sleeping Draught for her, but he didn’t have the proper ingredients or equipment.

Draco limped to the bathroom. He knew he’d never be able to stay out there with her, it was too tempting. Even though he’d much rather lay on a mattress than the hard, blue tile that lined the loo. He leaned against the wall, gradually falling to a sitting position. The cold tile was in sharp contrast to the heat on his skin. That was all Ginny’s fault. She was also to blame for his racing pulse.

He knew in his heart that this was what he had to do. But his body would never forgive him.

He sighed trying to figure out when he had become so damn chivalrous.

*

NOTES: I do apologize that this took so long. I have valid reasons that I will not bore you with. I noticed that a lot of people had questions about what happened to Narcissa/Snape/Molly/etc. and it’s good for all of you that this chapter is a bit different from the others. Up to now, we just saw the world through Draco’s eyes. But we’ll see a bit more of the others in this one. Also, if you guys have more questions I would be most happy to answer them. I wrote another list of answers to all my reviewers and told myself not to lose it this time, but I did anyway. So it turns out that if you ever have a question that you really want the answer to, the only surefire way of getting it answered is to email me. (My address is in my profile.) I’d be most happy to hear from you and promise to at least attempt a reply.

* * *

Draco slept fitfully that night. The uncomfortable bathroom floor didn’t help. He had nightmares. When he’d wake up, tell himself it was only a nightmare and go back to sleep only to have more nightmares. The worst was one where Voldemort had succeeded in capturing the Ministry of Magic. He stood on a heap of bodies that included Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore and laughed that high, mirthless laugh. Draco couldn’t see much else other than the bodies and thick, black smoke that obscured his surroundings. He remembered that Cassie had been there too. She stared at the dead people will dull eyes. Then she climbed up the heap and held Voldemort’s hand. Draco woke up, sweating, when she called him “Daddy.”

He couldn’t take much more of this. It was eating him up inside. At any given moment he felt like he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time, which would’ve been interesting if it hadn’t been so unpleasant. He had never been so worried about a human being in his life. That list included himself. It was a strange sensation, and he hated it.

Before falling into another nightmare, he wondered what she was doing at that moment.

* * *

Malfoy Manor was as dark during the day as it was at midnight. It made the mansion the ideal setting for evil doing. No one ever heard of men in dark clothing conspiring to take over the wizarding world on cheery, sunny islands. A great deal of evil had been planned in the empty room on the second floor. It was where the man formerly known as Tom Riddle did most of his plotting. At the moment, he was in the darkest corner of the dark house, staring at the little girl he had just kidnapped. Little things like kidnapping didn’t bother him. After all, he was evil.

In fact, Lord Voldemort was the most evil wizard of all time. An entire generation of wizards had grown up too frightened of him to even speak his name. Cities crumbled beneath his feet. He put fear in the hearts of grown men. He couldn’t do anything frightening or make anything crumble right now, however, because he had a headache. It was the largest headache known to man, for Lord Voldemort never did anything half-assed.

And it was all because of one little girl. Voldemort stared at her stonily. She was very stubborn. Impossible, was more like it.

“This is your dinner,” said the Death Eater that was supposed to feed her, “you have to eat it.” He was bending over the little girl with pleading eyes. Voldemort knew she would take no pity on him. She never showed pity.

Cassie folded her arms willfully across her chest and shook her head. Her golden hair bobbed as she moved. She had managed to sit in the only patch of sunlight in the entire place. “No. That’s icky.” She sneered at the strange green stuff he was trying to give her and turned her nose up.

“Then eat this,” he said, pointing at the other food on the plate.

“Can’t,” she said reasonably, “it’s touched the green stuff.”

“What is your power?” Voldemort asked suddenly. He couldn’t torture her, or threaten to kill her like he usually did to get information. He needed her to be on his side willingly. So, he had taken to asking her at odd intervals, hoping to catch her off guard.

Once again, Cassie turned her nose up and shook her shinny pigtails. She seemed to think it was a game. To Voldemort’s dismay, she couldn’t be easily beaten, even by the most powerful wizard of all time. It was infuriating.

“We could get Snape to brew a Veritaserum,” the Death Eater offered meekly. Voldemort glared at him.

“I have already tried that,” he said indignantly. Of course, he thought of everything before his henchmen did. “It didn’t work.” He turned back to Cassie, who was scratching her nose.

“Girl, --” he shouted, importantly.

“Cassandra,” she corrected, not catching his threatening tone.

“Why won’t you tell me?” He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. She flinched unconsciously at the action. She didn’t want him to know that she was afraid. Her Mummy had always taught her to be brave. But, it was hard. He was so scary with his gleaming red eyes and snakelike face. She wanted nothing more to run away, back to the safety of her hotel room.

Voldemort couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t listen to him. She had been designed to be his heir -- his successor. Yet, she wouldn’t cooperate with even the simplest task. He couldn’t even charm her with false promises, one of his specialties. He had offered her everything under the sun, from letting her go back to her parents to giving her lots of dolls. She only looked back at him with unconvinced eyes, like she could see right through him. Invariably, she said “no” to all of his offers.

“Why do you hate me?” he asked, trying to make himself sound like the poor, misunderstood schoolboy that everyone felt bad for back at Hogwarts. It was far more difficult to pull off now though, and he just ended up looking silly.

The girl muttered something unintelligible and avoided his probing eyes. “What’d she say?” queried the Death Eater from the other side of the room.

Cassie took a deep breath and looked up, trying to screw up her courage. After a long pause she finally responded, as if it were a big secret that she shouldn’t be telling him. “Daddy says that you know Maleficent.” She all but quaked at the name.


The Dark Lord frowned. Maleficent? Maleficent? The name sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. It certainly sounded like the name of an evil wizard. He had worked with many a dark wizard during his rise to power. They all blurred together. They all were nasty, ugly and had abnormal, obsessive compulsive tendencies. (One always stroked his beard, another couldn’t leave home without his toad, etc.) But he couldn’t remember what Maleficent had done. Voldemort had just used them all anyway. He didn’t want their advice, or their friendship. He just wanted to know what they knew and how to achieve the power they had.

His snakelike eyes narrowed as he thought. “Did he smell like feet?”

Cassie looked scandalized. “She had pointy hair.”

He vaguely recalled one with pointy hair. “She was an expert at brewing poisons.”

The little girl gasped. Poisons! Her mouth opened and closed furiously as she searched for the words. Now she was quaking, not from fear, but from anger. She made a few indistinct sputtering sounds before shouting, through heavy breaths, at the top of her lungs: “Spinning wheels...is...dangerous...weapons!”

The Death Eater turned to Voldemort for answers, but found none. The Dark Lord didn’t know what she was talking about either. He was looking infuriated and clutching his head. The girl was impossible! And it was possible that she was a bit mad. His head pounded in his hands. He would have to do a spell to get rid of it, but first he would have to get rid of the source. “Take her away!” he bellowed so that the Death Eater hurried to get the girl, and himself, out of the room. It wasn’t prudent to be near Voldemort longer than necessary when he was angry.

Cassie kicked and flailed her arms about as he struggled to remove her from the room. “How dare... It’s wrong!... Spinning wheels... dragons! DRAGONS!... poor Philip... thorns... WRONG!” she yelled as he pulled her out of the Dark Lord’s presence. Each phrase was punctuated by Cassie kicking or hitting the Death Eater, who would surely be bruised in the morning.

As her shouts faded down into the dark hallway, Voldemort sighed. Perhaps something had gone wrong with the spell. His heir was certainly mad.

* * *

“Oof!” Cassie grunted as the Death Eater flung her upon the bed. She didn’t know it, but it was the same bed she had been born on. She scrambled into a defensive sitting position to get a good look at the man. They glared at each other, breathing heavily. “I want to go home,” hoping in vain that he would care.

“You’ll stay here until the Dark Lord wants to speak with you again,” he replied harshly, still smarting from her attempts at escape.

With that, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. She could hear him lock it magically on the other side. It was the same spell that held her mother prison for months. But Cassie couldn’t stay months. She looked out the tiny, barred window and quaked. It wasn’t how far up she was that frightened her. (It was too small to climb out of anyway.) The sun was setting. She could make out the final pink and purple streaks in the sky. It was almost nighttime. She glanced around the room in a panic. There was no light in her room, not even a little candle. And Cassie was deathly afraid of the dark.

“Hello?” she cried out. There was no reply. “Hello!?” she said again, more desperately. “Could someone-- er -- turn the light on?” she asked weakly. She could almost feel the darkness surrounding her, as though it were choking her.

With a loud squeak, she scrambled under the flimsy blankets on the bed. She wished she had the blankie that her Daddy had given her. It protected against monsters and there were a lot of monsters here, both real and imagined. It was quite unlucky for Cassie that she had an excellent imagination. Everything seemed to be a monster to her. The shadow that the headboard made could easily be mistaken for some sort of goblin. The tree outside the window appeared to have hands that were reaching for her throughout the night. Every small movement outside the door sounded like it was pounding in her ears, causing her to jump and pull the blankets closer around herself.

At about midnight, which everyone knew was the hour that evil things came out, one such noise could be heard echoing outside Cassie’s door. It was two loud thuds followed by the softer sound of something being dragged along. Then it repeated, over and over. Cassie immediately recognized it as a giant carrying a little girl off to be eaten. She burst into hysterical tears when she first heard it. But she tried to hold them in, because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. If she were quiet enough, he’d never know she was there, and he’d just go away.

Cassie attempted to cover herself in blankets and pillows. She stayed in the dead center of the bed, huddled into a tiny lump with her knees drawn up to her chest as she sobbed into her trousers and rocked back in forth woefully. No amount of money could’ve made her move anymore. Everyone knew that monsters couldn’t come in the bed, but if they could reach you from the floor then you were sunk. Every time the wind would blow the tree outside around, she would flatten herself against the mattress, so she wouldn’t be easy to grab.

Needless to say, Cassie did not get any sleep that night. Every second that she didn’t spend praying that the monsters would leave her alone were spent wishing that she were home, with her Mummy and Daddy. She remembered what it had been like, earlier that day, when they had all been together. They had talked of her celebrating her birthday. Now it looked like she’d never be happy again. All she wanted was to leave and never come back. That man was scary and he kept insisting that he was her Daddy. But he was wrong.

Another strange sound came up from below, causing fresh panic bubble up inside of the five-year-old. Sometimes she could hear voices outside. But they were the voices of the men that served the bad man. They were just as bad as he was. They whispered in hushed tones, like they were talking to the nighttime wind. By the time morning came, she was in a pit of despair. Her tears had dried on her face and her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. She wished that someone, anyone, would come help her.

But who?

* * *

Arthur Weasley was perhaps the most reliable wizard in England. You could set your watch by him. Everyday he came to his office at 7 o’clock sharp, earlier than all the other ministers. He went home for lunch with Molly at exactly noon and wouldn’t spend more than an hour away from the office. He was always the last Ministry wizard to leave at night. Often times, passersby on the street could see the lone glow of his wand bouncing around as he read through papers in the darkness.

This particular morning began just as all the others had. The sun was only peeking over the horizon when Arthur arrived in the office. He sat down to work at his mahogany desk immediately. An hour later, his over-worked and bleary-eyed secretary stumbled into the office. Arthur was always jovial and exceedingly polite, which made it very hard for her to curse him over her first cup of coffee. They were the only souls present in the Ministry building.

He always had a lot of work to do. These days, with Voldemort back in power, the workload at the Ministry had increased ten fold, but particularly for the Head of the Department of Missing Witches and Wizards. Arthur had requested to be moved up to this position years ago. It was a relatively new office, only being established during Voldemort’s first reign, so there were a fair amount of kinks to be worked out of the system. All the organizing and planning only added to the hours of late night work he had to do. It certainly wasn’t as much fun as his old office, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, but then again, nothing was much fun anymore. The long hours didn’t bother him. The Burrow was far too quiet now. So quiet that it hurt his ears. He’d much rather be doing something constructive with his time.

The only thing he didn’t like about his new job was the office. It was much bigger, better equipped and had a better view than his last. All that was well and good, but the location bothered him. He was right across the hall from the office of the Standing Officer, a position held by the man he loathed most in the world: Lucius Malfoy. Generally, besides the constant reminder that he worked with Malfoy, it wasn’t so bad. For all intents and purposes, Standing Officer was a figurehead position. Most, including Arthur, didn’t even know what he did. Lucius Malfoy hardly ever ventured to his office. When he did it usually preceded a vicious attack from the Death Eaters by a few days. Lucius always made a great deal of noise, shouting at how incompetent everyone was. Arthur knew this was so he’d have an alibi, but Cornelius Fudge would hear nothing of it.

The last time the two of them had attempted conversation the result was a fistfight, so Arthur rarely spoke to Malfoy. Arthur had been in the office for nearly five years now, and only once had Lucius done more than grunt at him. It was almost a year after Ginny’s disappearance. Lucius swaggered into his office, glaring at the furniture as though it had all personally offended him. “Weasley,” he acknowledged the other man’s presence with a forced, polite nod. Then, without another word, he slapped a piece of paper down on Arthur’s desk and stalked out of the room apparently unable to stand another minute in the office.

Arthur had been too surprised to say anything during the entire encounter. After the shock wore off, curiosity began to build. What could possibly be so important that Lucius would come to him. He snatched the paper from were Lucius had placed it. It was a Missing Persons report, written in sloping, feminine hand. At first, Arthur thought he had misread it but further reading confirmed it. Lucius’ son, his name was Draco, was missing. He wasn’t sure what to make of this; he certainly couldn’t feel badly for Malfoy. He was, after all, certain that Lucius had something to do with his own daughter’s disappearance. But he did feel a bit of kinship with Malfoy since Arthur knew what it was like to lose one’s child.

“Mr. Weasley?” Arthur’s secretary’s voice made him jump in his seat. “There’s a woman here to see you.”

He had asked her to call him “Arthur” on several occasions, but she wouldn’t have it. She was young, just out of Hogwarts, and she had a certain idea of how things should be run at the Ministry. She was not unlike his son, Percy, in this regard. Though she wasn’t as well versed in whom she should be sucking up to. She had once told him that “some guy” was here to see him when the Minister of Magic himself had stopped by. This was why her description of “a woman” told him nothing other than the person was vaguely female shaped.

“Uh,” stammered trying to sound official for the secretary’s benefit. “Send her in.” He tried to busy himself, making it look like he was deep into research on some important case. In truth, it wasn’t really a “case” since the Ministry had closed it years ago. It was, however, very important in his estimations. For personal reasons, he dragged it up every few days. He closed the folder as he heard the woman’s footsteps approaching, sad to watch Ginny’s smiling face disappear under the cover of the manila folder.

The woman appeared, shadowed in the doorframe. Arthur cocked his head to the side. Even with her face obscured but he could still tell she wasn’t anyone he was expecting. Still, there was something...familiar about her. He couldn’t quite place where he had seen her before but he knew that he had. He noticed that her hand was shaking as she closed the door behind her. She was jumpy as though she half expected someone else to arrive.

Her cloak was made of a heavy, inky blank material. It was probably quite expensive. Arthur was sure it must be quite warm underneath and it wasn’t that cold outside. It was April after all. He was sure that the reason she had chosen these particular robes was because no light penetrated the material, keeping her identity hidden from anyone who looked upon her. His suspicious were confirmed when she made motion to remove her hood only after the door was firmly shut.

“Hello,” she said in a rather controlled, planned sort of way.

“Hello,” he replied uncomfortably, as he sat in behind his desk. “Um, let me take your cloak. Have a seat.” He gestured toward the leather chair that sat facing his desk.

“No, thank you,” she remained standing and slowly lowered the hood of her robes. “I can’t be staying.”

Pale, white strands of hair fell out from underneath the black fabric. For a moment, Arthur was sure she was a veela. Only they could have hair so silvery. Her face was gazing at him with a gentle smile, as if she had waited for this for a very long time. It was that smile that struck him funny. It was a few seconds before he realized why: he had never seen her smile before. He could see it, clear as day, her face as she looked at his children at the Quidditch World Cup. It had been as though she had smelled something foul.

It was Narcissa Malfoy.

“N-Narcissa,” he stuttered. “Your husband’s office is across the hall.” The words popped out of his mouth. What could she possibly want to talk to him about? But as soon as they were spoken, he felt silly. It was obvious after how methodically she had been since her arrival that she had intended to visit him, not her husband. He couldn’t figure out why.

“Lucius is the last person I want to talk to right now, Arthur,” she said, without the hint of superiority he would’ve expected from her.

“Why?” he wondered aloud. He knew why rational people wouldn’t want to see Lucius Malfoy, he just had never counted her among those people. He imagined she must be half-mad to have married him.

“He doesn’t know I’m here. And I trust you won’t tell him.” Arthur snorted. Narcissa instantly saw what was funny. Arthur and her husband rarely, if ever, spoke.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Is this about Draco?” he asked abruptly. It must have been her who wrote that report in the sloping hand.

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“We haven’t been actively looking into the disappearance of your son, Mrs. Malfoy. But all accounts he left of his own accord and since he’s a legal adult he is free to make the choice of where he wishes to --” Arthur started to prattle off the official details of the Malfoy boy’s case in a matter-of-fact manner. She stopped him with a mysterious look.

Narcissa shook her head. She knew all that already. “Mr. Weasley,” she began, as she glanced at a photo of the entire Weasley family he had on his wall. It must have been taken some time ago because the girl, Ginny, still smiled back at her. “I know you’re a very dedicated family man. So you, of all people, must understand that I would do anything for my Draco.”

Confused, Arthur nodded. “Of course...”

She held up a hand to silence him. She spoke again with a slightly higher pitched voice. “He’s been gone for several years. I would rather like to see him again before I die. Certain measures must be taken to insure this. I’m sure you find it odd that I would come to you on this matter. But under the circumstances, I think you’re the only one who can help me. Besides,” she said, a bit heavier, “you deserve to know...”

Arthur frowned. “Go on.”

Narcissa paused, unsure as to how she could go on. She remembered all too well how she had reacted when she had first found out. And there was a very high possibility that he wouldn’t believe a word she said. There was no better thing to do than just say it. If he didn’t believe her, then she had done her best.

Screwing up her courage, she took a deep breath and said in a deathly quiet whisper, “Lucius was the one who kidnapped your daughter. He took her from Platform Nine and Three Quarters and imprisoned her in Malfoy Manor.”

“WHAT?!?” he exploded, leaping to his feet. Both horror and anger were mixed in every feature of his face. It was one thing to suspect that Lucius had something to do with Ginny’s kidnapping; it was another thing all together to hear a confession from his wife.

Again, Narcissa held up a hand to silence him. “She’s no longer there. She escaped some five years ago. I don’t know where she is now,” she assured the still seething man. “I didn’t know about it until after she was gone. Draco left that same day. Lucius informs me that they are together, your daughter and my son. They’re both alive and well.”

Arthur sank into his chair in a heap and bowed his head. She could see herself in the shiny bald spot on top of his head. Although he felt like a great weight had been lifted from him, his own body seemed to have gotten heavier. She’s alive... he thought. He knew he should never trust a Malfoy but he found it hard to believe that Narcissa was lying to him. And he so wanted it to be true. He wanted Ginny to come home to him in one piece.

“You want Ginny back and I want Draco back,” she whispered. “So you see, we’re in the same boat.”

Arthur fidgeted with his hands. “Is that all?” he asked, wiping a lone tear from his face. His skin burned, embarrassed that she was seeing him cry.

“No... There’s something else. Well, someone else.” She smiled serenely. “Our granddaughter.”

His face snapped up to meet hers. He wanted to say something but words failed him. Their granddaughter?!? He didn’t know what to think or what to say. There were three definite schools of thought. One was ecstatic and proud to be a grandfather. One was horrified that Ginny had gone through that alone and with a Malfoy. And still another one was sad, and didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t place why. He wished he could’ve been there for her. She was his only daughter. He had hoped that she would come back to him and everything would be as it was. He knew now that Ginny would never be the carefree girl she once was, because she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a mother.

Narcissa’s voice sounded very far away when she spoke again. “The Dark Lord wishes to capture the girl and use her against the Resistance. Ginny and Draco are trying to protect her.” Narcissa blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. She felt horrible that he had to find out like this. She too wished things could’ve been different. It should’ve been joyous news from someone he loved. But Malfoys didn’t show love. And they didn’t cry.

She reached behind her head and picked up her hood, to once again shield her face from onlookers, in one swift motion. “I must go now. Lucius will miss me.” She turned and left as abruptly as she had come. Arthur didn’t even have time to say goodbye. All he heard was the swish of her cloak and the unmistakable sniffle of someone who had just begun to sob.

Narcissa broke into a run as soon as she was out of the office. It was a lie, Lucius wouldn’t miss her. He was busy with other things. She just couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. To think, if she had been more attentive years earlier, she could’ve stopped this. Then both of them would be happy. She knew in the depths of her heart that she probably wouldn’t have done anything even if she had known that Ginny Weasley had been prisoner in Malfoy Manor. Narcissa was not the hero type. That was exactly why she had planned this meeting. Now her part was finished and the weight wouldn’t rest on her shoulders anymore. She wouldn’t be spending her days in bed anymore.

She left Mr. Weasley alone with his confused thoughts. Her tears spoke louder than any words she might have said. He still wasn’t sure if he trusted her. If it was true then Ginny was alive then she was also in great danger. That was only if it were true. He tried to get back to work, as though everything were normal. The ticking of the clock sounded loudly in his ears and the hidden picture of Ginny was boring holes through the manila folder up at him, begging him for help. He would do anything for her.

After awhile, he couldn’t take it anymore. He seized a quill and scrawled an untidy, probably incoherent letter. He may not be able to trust Narcissa but there was one person who he knew would be able to sort it all out. He hastily attached it to the Ministry owl that was perched in the corner of the room.

“Take this to Albus Dumbledore,” he instructed the owl, who hooted and disappeared from sight.

* * *

Two bright, gray eyes poked out from underneath a heap of blankets. They blinked several times as the hazy sunlight slipped into the dark room. Malfoy Manor was never completely illuminated by the sun. Only a small corner of the room, near the window showed that the star actually existed. It was as though someone had tried their hardest to keep the light out at all times, and only brave beams ventured into the mansion. The eyes seemed to disbelieve that morning had come. They had been waiting for so long and hardly expected to ever see the break of day again.

The little girl that hid under the blankets stayed put even after she knew that it really was day again. Normally the monsters went away during the day, but there were other things in this place. She could feel them moving about. It was best to stay hidden as long as possible. The small lump in the middle of the bed didn’t move at all, only listened to the sounds outside her door. She desperately wanted to get out. She knew she couldn’t stay here another night. Bad things were planned for her. Besides, she’d go mad if she had to stay in that room much longer.

Cassie had stopped crying in the middle of the night. She wanted to be brave like her Mummy. And she didn’t want to give the monsters a clue as to where to find her. So she sat silently in the middle of the bed, only her two eyes exposed to the rest of the world, listening to the people on the other side of her door. She wished she could hear her Mummy or Daddy’s voice. She had hoped she wake up and be in their arms again. They would take care of her. But she was still in this dreadful place, and those people wouldn’t help her.

A little while later, there was something of a ruckus outside. Cassie tensed fearfully. Several people were filing past her door. She could see them from where she was perched as she had been able to see her father when he had first knocked on her hotel room door. They were mean men and they all dressed the same: in long, black robes. Snippets of information forced their way into her head as each one passed.

That guy liked to kill cute, fuzzy animals... He was hungry... The next one used a lot of bad words. Mummy wouldn’t like him... He was guilty. Cassie didn’t know what of, but it was bad... He was greedy.... He was mean to his kids. Not like Cassie’s daddy... Several passed at once; they were all very stupid... That one was her Grandfather. For a moment, she feared he’d open the door to her room as he passed. She didn’t want that. He was scary... The next one didn’t bathe properly... Those two were insane. They had been somewhere bad. Cassie felt sorry for them... There were a few more stragglers at the end... They were afraid. They didn’t want to go wherever they were going. Cassie couldn’t blame them. They shouldn’t go. Their Mummies wouldn’t like it.

Cassie breathed a sigh of relief once they were all safely passed her door. She worried that one of them would’ve come and taken her back to the Bad Man. She didn’t want to go back there. She never wanted to see him again.

She gasped in surprise as still another man passed her door. She could hear his shoes tapping loudly against the stone floor as all the others faded into the distance. He was one of those other men in the black robes. But he was different somehow. He wasn’t scared or guilty or stupid. He trailed so far behind the others, dragging his feet. He glared angrily at the ones in front of him. Cassie got the impression that he didn’t like the others. He thought they were dunderheads, whatever those were.

Then it hit her, like a light finally shining into the room. It was so clear and so obvious. He would help her. He would take her back to her Mummy and Daddy. He wasn’t like the others.

Scared that she might miss him, Cassie leapt from the bed, without a thought to the lurking monsters. She began to bang frantically on the heavy door with both of her small fists. She continued to do so until she heard him hoarsely whisper some words she didn’t understand, and the door swung open. He looked just like one of them. He wore long, black robes that covered his head. But he wasn’t. She knew it. She had never been more positive of anything in her entire short life.

“Hi,” she smiled as she looked up at him with exceptionally large eyes. “My name is Cassandra Weasley-Malfoy and I would like to go home.” She said her name proudly, as if it were the best name a person could have. Then she put her hands behind her back and twisted back and forth, trying to look cute and innocent so he’d help her.

The man only stared at her for several moments, not trusting his eyes and ears to be functioning correctly. Had she just said Weasley-Malfoy? Of course, she was the heir, he realized. Then he sunk to his knee in a gentle, uncharacteristic manner, and said, “I’m Severus Snape. I know your Mum and Dad.”

Cassie grinned broadly. Then he would know where to take her! “Can I call you Sevvie?” she asked, as she lifted her arms for him to pick her up. He glared at her. He didn’t like to pick up little girls, but he did it nonetheless.

* * *