Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

Harry was looking grim at the breakfast table. He'd sat down at the table opposite Ron Weasley, and he'd eaten his food of choice without another word. Ron chewed away in silence. His heart had descended into his toes. Harry was clearly upset, and it actually annoyed the red-head. So he'd acted foolishly. He didn't regret it. But he could have refrained from being so blunt about it. He should have made a plan before going after Malfoy, instead of rushing headlong into something stupid like attacking him in the bathroom. He knew now why people – men mostly – murdered their girlfriends in a fit of jealousy. He knew what it felt like. Ron had never imagined jealousy to be such a convincing emotion. It justified everything. It made people stupid. Harry sat down his glass of orange juice and looked Ron square in the eye.

“You have to go over to him and apologize. It's the only proper thing to do!” Harry glanced about, and saw Hermione entering the doorway. She was unusually late for breakfast this morning. Turning his head, Harry watched Draco Malfoy stuff a slice of toast with jam into his mouth. Draco had cropped his hair. It was no longer obscuring his eyes. It was back to his usual – short Malfoy style – and it was still wet. Draco had obviously showered. He glanced over his shoulder with a guilty look, craned his neck and peered up at Hagrid who had taken up position behind the Slytherin. Hagrid had crossed his arms over his chest and was looking down his nose at Malfoy. Draco wasn't in his school uniform, but wore his own clothes. A grey sweater with thin vertical stripes and a pair of casual though perfectly tailored pants in black.

Hermione swept past Ron giving him a condemning glance on the way. Ron jumped from his seat, grabbed her arm and almost screamed her name. She twisted round in a fury, swung her arm and slapped his face. Hard. The noise of the hand connecting with his head echoed throughout the great hall, commanding silence for a heartbeat.Ron returned to his seat, feeling mortified as people – Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, glared at him and giggled. Harry Potter, however, wasn't giggling. Ron sat down holding his burning cheek, watching Hermione make her way over to where Hagrid kept watch.

“Let me remind you that because of you, I've got detention with Snape for the rest of the year. You told him that you've gotten the spell from a book I had! And he knew what book it was! I told him I no longer had it, that I got rid of it. He almost took off and hit the ceiling when I said I'd hidden it! So get your behind off the bloody bench and go over there and apologize to Draco. It's the least you can do!” Harry said sternly, referring to the book of Advanced Potion Making which once had belonged to the Half Blood Prince.

“Can't you see what's he doing? He's using her!”

“Honestly Ron, all I see is a boy and a girl who likes each other very much – !”

“ – but that's just it! He's a fake. Why can't she see he's a fake? He's just using his status as a victim to get the girl! He even gave her his wand!”

Lavender came waltzing in the door. She walked straight up to Ron, sat down and embraced him.

“What's he done this time?” Lavender wanted to know, nodding in Hagrid's direction.

“Madam Pomfrey has assigned Hagrid to pose as Draco's prison guard. She's determined to keep him in the hospital wing until the Easter Holidays” Harry told Lavender. “You should have seen her, looming over Draco in his sickbed, counting his ribs, announcing she intended to fatten him up before Easter.” Harry chuckled.

“I heard he was delirious last night, talking about going to class right after...!” Lavender cut herself short. “I know my Won-Won didn't mean him any harm, right?”
Lavender talked to Ron with her baby cosy talk voice, looking to the red-haired for reassurance. Ron rolled his eyes. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand when she did that. She was of the dangerous kind, he decided, naïve to the last.

“No harm? With Sectumsempra? Come on” Harry exclaimed, “Showing it to you was a bad mistake. Very bad mistake.” Harry said. It reminded him of the fact that he also was to blame in this. He turned to stare at Hermione and Draco. She sat on the opposite end of the long table, glancing shyly at the Slytherin, smiling lopsided at him. Malfoy was positively beaming – and one big smile. Something had happened between them. Something good.

Draco's heart raced. He nearly got up from his seat when she surprised him by taking up the opposite seat. She glanced shyly at him, her eyes open and honest – scrutinizing his face for evidence that he regretted last night. But he was an open book – one big smile towards her – acknowledging her presence down to the last curl of her hair. He reached for the toast, made sure she got what she needed on her silver plate. He offered her cheese, jam, ham, fruit and asked her if she wanted milk, juice or tea. When she mentioned the tea, Draco jumped from his seat and fetched the tea pot. Hagrid rolled his eyes at the boy's erratic behaviour.

They ate together in silence, both knowing it was time for difficult issues. But words seemed to elude them both. Hermione commented on his hair cut, and Draco responded by telling her about Madam Pomfrey's resolution. He told her that he'd said to Madam Pomfrey that he needed to impress a girl, and he asked if she might help him crop his hair. She got a house elf spinning on his heel to fetch him his clothes, before she herself swung her wand, making scissors and combs fly through the air much to Hagrid's terror. The half giant had backed away, holding his hands protectively over his large bushy beard, glaring wide-eyed at the magic. Hermione laughed heartily of his story, and then they realised it was time to go to class. Hagrid put one large hand on Draco's shoulder, reminding him of his promise to Pomfrey.

Hermione rose from her seat. Draco was still seated. He looked up at her with a sudden expression of great concern.

“Did I –, did I cross the line last night?” Draco got up, diving into the brown pools of her eyes.

“No. Not once” she replied. “I'll visit you” she said, fidgeting with her hands. Draco smiled in response. She looked like she was about to leave, but her feet were stuck to the floor. Draco reached forward, took her left hand and brought it to his lips. Gently and softly he kissed the knuckles on her hand, looking into her big puppy eyes. It brought back the smile and confidence to her face. She seemed desperate for reassurance – that it had actually happened – that she'd done the right thing.

“You have a Patronus” she all of the sudden said, and glanced up at him. She seemed to relax and unrooted herself from the spot in front of him. She shot him one last dreamy glance, before she left him standing there with a belly full of butterflies. Draco sat down again, and in his happiness, he absent-mindedly made himself another toast with strawberry jam.

Ron Weasley sat and watched the whole thing between Hermione and Draco. He was aimlessly playing with his wand. He had stopped listening to Lavender a long time ago, and he could see that Harry was trying to get in an excuse to leave so he wouldn't have to listen to her mindless babbling. Lavender was a sweet thing. But what had Ron really been thinking when he decided he'd date her? He kept thinking about the grass and how it always seemed greener on the other side of the fence. Harry got up and left, glad to be rid of Lavender. She all of the sudden shrieked, because the nearest toast had caught fire. It immediately turned into a blackened, crisp and completely inedible matter. Kind of like Malfoy, Ron thought to himself. A scent of burnt bread filled the Great Hall.

Hagrid herded Malfoy back to the hospital wing. Draco felt like talking, and he gazed up at the overly large man dressed in a long fur coat of some indefinable animal.

“May I ask you something, Hagrid?” Draco said.

“Yes?”

“Have you always been around here at Hogwarts?”

“Since 1940, when I was sorted into Gryffindor house. After tha' I became the game keeper and after tha', well ye know, I sort of became Professor.” Hagrid replied, folding his hands in front of his big belly as they trotted along. Hagrid had failed to mask that he was on his guard, obviously expecting the old Draco Malfoy to pop up and make some hurtful remark.

“Don't you ever – you know – tire of always being here?”

“Not a single day!” Hagrid replied with a bright smile. They were almost at the hospital wing now.

“I …” Draco hesitated, “haven't thanked you properly for, uhm, you know bringing me to Madam Pomfrey when after the incident with the hippogriff. I was a fool. I'm really sorry about your pet.”

Draco saw that Hagrid hesitated. Perhaps Draco had said something stupid. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought it up at all. He had most likely angered Hagrid now. Draco looked down, and said no more, keeping his gaze fixed to the floor. He felt anxiety on the rise in his chest.

“Tha' is all righ' ye know, Buckbeak's better off where he is now” Hagrid finally replied softly. He had spent a few moments figuring out whether or not Draco was sincere, but from the suddenly depressed look on the boy's face, he decided he'd give the boy the benefit of the doubt. They said good-bye by the entrance to the hospital wing, and

Draco trotted off back to bed. He sat on it and fished out a schoolbook. He lay down on the bed on his back and leafed through the book. Then his eyelids became heavy and Draco fell asleep with the book draped over his chest.

He awoke hours later to find Dumbledore sitting in the chair next to his bed. The old headmaster smiled and asked how he was. Draco replied and thanked him for his concern.

“Isn't remarkable how the tide sometime shifts?” Dumbledore commented.

“What do you mean?”

“I understand that someone has taken your place as a Death Eater” Dumbledore replied, sounding and looking calm, talking in a voice which reminded of casual chit-chat.

“Pansy Parkinson” Draco replied without hesitation.

“Yes. Now, promise me one thing, will you?” Dumbledore looked Draco in the eye. “No matter what happens, you must not try to stop her. Should it, however, be in your power to protect the other students, you must promise me to try to the best of your capability.”

“I – I promise” Draco replied though he wondered what he was actually promising to do.

“Ah, I see we have company. Well, that was all I had to convey to you for the time being, Draco.” Dumbledore said cheerfully and got up from his seat. He greeted Hermione with a nod and left.

“It's nearly lunch” Hermione said and sat down next to him on the edge of his bed.

“Good. I'm starving. How are you?” Draco said expectantly.

“I'm fine thanks.”

Silence.

“How nice of Dumbledore to drop by”, Hermione said. She blushed and looked down on her toes.

“We discussed my replacement” Draco spoke lowly, looking guilty at her.

“Your replacement?”

“Pansy.”

“She's a Death Eater?” Hermione whispered. “You mean to say that what Harry babbled about is true?”

“She – she's jealous. She's bitter about – you – and me – and this whole thing. She's doing this to show me what a failure I am. You have to be careful Hermione” Draco told
her softly, touching her shoulder. Hermione took his hand which rested on her shoulder and kissed it. She was so tender and sweet and Draco felt like such a bastard for ever having been a Slytherin, for ever having associated with people like Pansy. He shifted his position and leaned towards her, kissing her lips slowly and tenderly. She unfolded her arms and put her hands on either side of his head, brushing her fingers through his hair.

They walked to the great hall to get some lunch. Before they left the hospital wing, Draco's heart raced in his chest and his belly was near the bursting point with butterflies. He walked beside her, casually, and reached for her hand. She didn't object, but gazed shyly at him, and tightened her grip.
She'd never expected it. He wanted to hold her hand in front of everybody, showing them that they had something. The famous 'holding-hands-stage' had come so abruptly Hermione walked the corridors in a haze, not believing she walked around holding Draco Malfoy's hand.

“I – uhm, I feel responsible” he said while they walked casually towards the smell of food.

“For what?” she replied softly.

“I mean, I feel guilty. You were in pain last night, and I – I feel as if I paid you no heed at all.”

“I'm not made of glass, you know” she giggled faintly, “nothing is broken if that's what you mean” she replied reassuringly, referring to her maidenhead.

“But that's just it. I feel guilty for giving in, for breaking – you know what – because you can never have it back. This whole situation has been forced on you, and – and I wouldn't blame you if – if – !”

“ – if I never wanted to know you again?”

“Yes.”

“Yet here I am holding your hand” she replied, looking up at him. When had he grown a head taller than she? He smiled down at her contemplatively, obviously taking in what she told him. Holding his hand felt good. She felt protected, knowing he cared for her, obviously preoccupied with what the intercourse last night meant and the future consequences therein. Draco was deep, she concluded, deep and reflected, more than he'd ever let on before. All of it had been masked by his arrogant attitude. The new Draco which she's just begun to learn to know, was intriguing. Interesting and stimulating.

They had lunch. Hermione had an after lunch free period, and the Gryffindor girl and the Slytherin boy sneaked off to Draco’s room. There, they made love for the second time. Now that the fit had settled into controllable mutual desire, they took their time. Draco made an effort to be gentle, and Hermione smiled at his over-protectiveness, telling him to relax. She kissed him and reminded him that she wasn’t made of glass. When she did this, Draco hesitated and his face became serious. He whispered: “I don’t deserve you, Granger”, as if he was trying make up reasons for her to hate him. He kissed her. He had no intention of rushing things. He kissed her, touched her, explored her body and buried his face between her breasts smelling the tender skin there, discovering how she smelled differently on different places. Hermione blushed as Draco timidly cupped her breasts in his hands. It was comforting in a way to know that Draco had more experience than her. He guided her along, teaching her without patronizing her. Then he touched her pubic area. He lingered there with his fingers for a long time, not daring to let his index finger enter into the moist areas. Hermione was writhing beneath him – not sure what he wanted, not really caring because the way he made her feel was so incredible.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered in the half dark. They gazed at one another. Hermione nodded her head, and she felt her heart race and her blood pulse in her veins. Draco slid his index finger between her wetness until he found the small bud he was looking for. “You must tell me if ...!” he began. She nodded, knowing what he meant. She closed her eyes, opened them and stared into Draco’s open and honest face. He was lying close to her on her right side, his lips kissed her forehead, his breath ghosting her skin there, causing her to shudder with delight. He moved his index finger gently over her clitoris time and time again, sensing a steadily increasing arousal in her. Her cheeks were flush, maintaining a crimson red in her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered, and beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. She clung to him. Her hands began to work and roam restlessly over whatever she could touch of him. She couldn’t get close enough, wanted more of him. She kissed him feverishly, for that’s what it felt like – fever! A delightful fever. Her insides soared. She felt as if she was floating on clouds and her groin was on fire, focused in the swollen bud under Draco’s finger. The orgasm ebbed out of her, and he stopped. He kissed her passionately, and while she tried to catch her breath, Draco moved between her legs. She could feel how she felt different. She was swollen. Wet. Open like a book, and he dived right into her. There was no pain this time. Draco hammered away at her, pounded at her with all his might, leaving all restrain behind. He heard her moan in pleasure, felt her wrap her legs around him and beckoning him further – deeper!
Draco shut his eyes, feeling himself peak. As he came, he felt as if he drained all of him into her – bone, flesh, soul – everything! Exhausted, he collapsed on top of her for a moment, just breathing. Sweat poured down his face, his body was on fire and an aroma of sex lingered throughout the dark room. He moaned, pulled out of her and moved himself next to her again. She opened her arms and he put his head to rest on her chest, feeling her heart beat as hard as his beneath her breast. They lay there as one for quite a long time.

Hermione got dressed again. She arranged her hair back into the orderly Granger-fashion, smiled him and kissed his lips greedily.

“Madam Pomfrey refuses to let me go for the night. She has threatened me with bringing Hagrid again” Draco winced. Hermione giggled, and combed her fingers through his blond short cropped hair. “This – this is a dangerous thing we’re doing, Hermione. We have succumbed to Melchior’s will. I have failed. I promised I wouldn’t...! I promised Harry I would keep my hands away from you – that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Would you stop it? You haven’t hurt me. We found a way out of this together. Didn’t we?” Hermione replied.

“I don’t know what Melchior will try next” Draco whispered, anxious the eudaimon would turn up by the sheer mention of his name. “I’m afraid that if I kindle too many emotions in you, that he will use it against me and – and destroy this fragile thing which we now have – you and I.” Draco stroked her thoughtfully across her cheek. “I – I don’t even know how you feel about me.” Draco suddenly seemed sad.

“You have a Patronus!” Hermione whispered, looking into his pale blue eyes.

“You keep saying that but what does it mean?” Draco wanted to know.

“It means you’re worth fighting for” Hermione whispered and kissed him.


Of all people, Neville came to his sickbed. Draco lit up when he saw the Gryffindor approach, and he greeted him enthusiastically, glad to have some company. Neville seemed nervous and insecure. He brought with him a set of wizard’s chess, and he wondered if Draco wanted to have a little game with him. Draco was more than eager to oblige.

“Madam Pomfrey won’t let me go. She’s determined to keep me here for the night” Draco smiled.

“I’m not really much of a player” Draco spoke lowly, excusing himself.

“Well, that makes two of us” Neville replied while placing the chess-pieces on the tray.

“Isn’t there ... anyone else who will play with you?”

“Probably. But I wanted to play with you. I’ve been thinking a lot about you. And what you did for my parents.” Neville replied. “I think it’s a shame you have to be down here all by yourself.”

“I have Madam Pomfrey” Draco replied with an ironical tone, daring a lopsided smile. Neville gave a short laugh. “I mean it –you don’t have to waste time. I’m not worth it, Neville. Just forget about me.”

“How can I?!” Neville suddenly exclaimed, looking Draco in the eye with a serious face. “I still don’t know what you did to get my parents out of insanity, but I know it was you, Draco. It’s a feeling I can’t ignore.”

Draco had no reply. Neville’s sincerity was overwhelming, and Draco looked down into his bed. The chess pieces stood ready.

“Your move” Neville said, glancing up at Draco.


Evening approached. Hermione took a firm grip on his hand and towed him over to the Gryffindors. Neville beckoned them over and they had Draco seat himself next to Longbottom. Draco wore his own personal clothes and it helped. He felt less out of place – though completely misplaced in the midst of Gryffindors. He held on to Hemione’s hand tightly while his heart raced in his chest. He didn’t dare to look at the others unless they spoke to him directly. With his presence came a silence amongst the Gryffindors. Many of them had witnessed the rape on the balcony. Many knew of his attempted suicides. They had discussed him in the Gryffindor Common Room in the evenings. They could feel nothing but sorry for him, and Harry had spent many an evening asking them to put behind whatever grudges they held against the Draco in the past and simply be his friend. For he had none. And he so badly needed friendship. Most of all, the Gryffindors talked about the way the Slytherins had kicked Draco out from their house. They were appalled. How low was it possible to sink? After Draco’s falling out of grace with the Slytherins, the mood between the two houses had soured considerably. Even Professor Snape held a grudge against the Slytherin students – he had taken a hundred points from their house in sheer frustration over their decision. But emphasizing with Malfoy and finding a topic the Gryffindors had in common were two completely different things. They knew virtually nothing about him as a person other than that he used to be an arrogant, conceited pure-blood brat. But now, Hermione all of the sudden dated him. It was a most unexpected combination: A Pure blood Slytherin and a Muggle-born witch.


Night time.
Despite having slept all day, Draco slept soundly. It was as if his body hungered for every bit of rest it could get, and it did him good. He dreamt about Melchior. He saw Melchior standing on the pier down by the lake, where students and visitors came ashore when they travelled from the Hogwarts Express and to the Castle. Melchior wore an ancient tiara on his head. It was made of gold, inlaid with onyx stones, blood-coloured sapphires and diamonds. He gazed intently at Draco, who stood in his pyjamas, his feet bare in the snow but he felt no cold. The outline of a ship appeared on the horizon. It was an old-fashioned three-masted sailing vessel. Its silhouette black against the horizon. Melchior kissed his lips, and slowly the image of his master blurred, and being half asleep, Draco knew that Melchior really was with him in his bed in the hospital wing. Draco dared not open his eyes. Melchior kissed him softly. Draco shuddered as he felt Melchior's sharp nails slowly caress the subtle skin on his belly. His heart began to beat loudly in anticipation and worry. Would he be punished? Draco didn't want to see, didn't want to know. He forced his eyes to stay shut though every instinct in him told him to open his eyes.

“Tonight, you will be mine once again” the eudaimon whispered. Moving, the eudaimon reached for Draco's trousers and pulled them off. Draco offered no resistance. Nor did he help. He remained limp, willing his eyes shut. Why? He thought, when everything was suddenly looking good again, why did the eudaimon have to come and lay Draco's world in darkness? His thoughts went inadvertently to Hermione, and he felt terror at the thought of something happening to her.

“It's all right” Melchior spoke soothingly while his lips once again ghosted Draco's. The eudaimon had spread the blond's legs. “The life growing in her womb is holy. I will not touch her. You have my word.”

Draco opened his eyes just as Melchior forced himself into him. Inhaling sharply as pain bit through his entrance, he stared in disbelief at Melchior. The eudaimon wasn’t grinning contemptuously. He didn’t laugh. He seemed sincere and focused on Draco.

“What – what did – you ....?!” but before Draco could gather his thoughts, Melchior thrust into him so hard Draco shut his eyes and hissed at the pain. He whimpered as Melchior began to thrust steadily, wincing at every pump, every friction. Never, never again would he be uncoated, Draco swore to himself. The pain flared up in his abdomen. Draco tensed and bit down the wails which wanted out. “Please” he whimpered with a burning desire to escape the pain. It reminded him of the first time by the lake, where he had lost his virginity.

“I will finish inside you, my little dragon. You will endure this. And then I will talk. And you will listen.”
Draco gritted his teeth, fighting the pain. It dulled after a while, but was never really washed away. The little lust he felt could not overcome it. But Melchior did not seem mad. Draco wanted the demon to keep that state of mind.

“It’s been too long since you last submitted to me” Melchior whispered hoarsely into Draco’s left ear, “I have given you time, and you have spent it well with her. But now, you shall be mine again.”

“I – I” gasped Draco, “I never stopped being yours! I – I, please, I can’t take it! It hurts!”Melchior didn’t reply. It didn’t take him long to finish though. But the eudaimon didn’t seem pleased.

He remained seated on the edge by the bedpost, staring into the air while Draco managed to put his trousers back on without too much hassle. Draco drew his knees up to his chest and seated himself as far away as he could from the eudaimon. He had never seen the eudaimon this way. The ethereal being seemed distracted. Thoughtful. As if he was brooding over something.

“Is – is it something I did?” Draco asked weakly, finally breaking the unbearable silence. “Look, I know I haven’t – I’ve tried to be a good boy, but...!”

“—you will pack a bag with clothes and travel to the Lighthouse Farm for the Easter holidays.”

“—the – the Lighthouse ... ?!”

“The Lighthouse Farm. Once you are there, we shall contemplate your future.” Melchior rose from the bed. He turned towards Draco. “My brother dwells there. With his target. I need to compare you to him in order to know what to do with you.”

“Where is this place? How will I – ? How long – ?!” Draco stuttered.

“It's at the northern most point of the Isle of Lewis, not that far from here. I have already shown you how you will be transported there. If all goes well, you shall return to Hogwarts at the end of the holiday. I never intended for her to be with child. But now that it has happened, there are several choices to be made.”

“He – Hermione's with child? She's pregnant?!” Draco blurted out. The thought was incomprehensible – filling him with a sensation mixed of happiness and terror. Terror because he irrevocably wanted the tiny life to live. Terror because there were so many obstacles. She might not want it. She might hate him. She might hate the baby. Melchior might hate it. Narcissa would hate it ...! It occurred to him how many enemies the child had. A tiny, pristine little life. An innocent little being which never had asked to come into existence, threatened by so many factors...!

“Please …!” Draco pleaded, “please …!”

“I see dangers ahead for you, but not until after the vacation. The new Death Eater will see to that. In a fit of jealousy, she will conjure a demon who will attempt to destroy your future wife and child. Should it succeed, miss Granger will persevere, the child will be lost, but miss Granger will never recuperate. Your relationship will end, she will blame you and she will end her life in the gutter along with the shards of a broken bottle of liquor across her wrists.”
Draco winced as he realised the gravity of the eudaimon's words. Subtlety was a virtue the eudaimon had no knowledge of. Draco wanted to run to her, to hold her tight and to offer her some kind of protection. He wisely subdued that urge

“Should you succeed in disposing of the demon, she will be yours, your son will be born and you will become a powerful demon hunter. And my worst nightmare” Melchior added gravely, staring at Draco.

Draco just wanted to run. He wanted to get away. But the words concerned him, and him only. “I – I will do anything you say!” Draco whispered, “anything, just let her and the child live! I would give anything …! Anything!”

“And you shall. But it will make you my enemy. Unless you render me your full submission! Absolute loyalty. When I am harmed in battle I must be able to rely on you completely!” Melchior hissed through the half dark of the hospital wing.

“Yes. Anything! I'll do anything for her …! I swear!” Draco replied, shuddering in the nocturnal air. He got the feeling Melchior didn't believe his words.

“We shall see” the edaimon finally replied, “ at the Lighthouse we shall see. I've kept you a secret for so long, but I can hide you no longer. My brothers must know. So far, my father Aloysius has taken no interest of you. You're handsome. He likes handsome boys above all, and I fear I may be stirring a wasp's nest by bringing you there, but I have no choice.”

Melchior sat in silence for a long time, but then he finally went on:

“My brother's target. His name is Peter. Peter Drinkwater. He never recovered. He remains a subdued, useless little thing. He is nothing like you. Nothing. And as the years have gone by, I look at him from time to time when I visit my brother, and I can't help but to think that my brother somehow erred. I have begun to see how you, Draco Malfoy, are beginning down the same path as Peter did. Peter is a tiresome, pathetic and brainwashed Muggle which I have nothing but pity for. I cannot stand him. I think he's less a human than Voldemort is. A puppet trapped in his own misery from which he cannot escape. Peter has no self-respect. He has no integrity other than being a devoted father to his children. If ordered, he would spread his legs to anybody.” Melchior spoke. His words were strongly coloured with contempt.
Draco shuddered. He was beginning to see Melchior the person – not Melchior the eudaimon, and the revelation was frightening. Melchior was really deep!

“I don't want you to be a puppet.”

Draco didn't sleep for the remainder of the night. He couldn't free himself of the thought of Hermione – that she was having his baby! The next instant he was in agony for having to leave her. His guilt for taking her virginity was now eradicated by the need to protect the fragile beginnings of a family. He kept telling himself he had to trust Melchior – that she would be safe until after the Easter Holidays. He had to trust him when he said the little life in her belly was holy to him. Draco had no other option. He was completely at Melchior's mercy in this. He would have to talk with Hermione in the morning. Or had he? Should he wait? Until after the holiday? Draco got up. He couldn't stay. Sneaking past Madam Pomfrey seemed easy, and his feet set the course for the stairs. The Gryffindor Common Room was the one house everyone knew the entrance to. But only the Gryffindors knew the password. Realising he could go no further, Draco sat down by the railing.
He didn't know how long he sat there, but suddenly the door opened. It was Hermione! She was surprised to see him, and he got up and hurried to her lips for a kiss. He kissed her fiercely and passionately, attempting to restrain himself. She explained to him that she couldn't stand it, that she had to see him. She couldn't sleep because of him. Draco gazed into her brown eyes for a long, silent time.

“I have to go home tomorrow” she finally whispered, the portrait of the Fat Lady behind her back. “Where will you go? Will you stay here?” she wanted to know.

“Melchior has ordered me to go to a place called the Lighthouse Farm. On the isle of Lewis” he replied breathlessly, his lips swollen from their lengthy kiss.

“The Isle of Lewis? It's not far from here” she replied, gazing into his eyes. “Why?!”

“Hermione. Listen. If I don't return here when the vacation is over, it means I've failed. It means I'm dead. And you must leave Hogwarts! For the sake of our child! Parkinson is going to release a demon, and it will go after you and the baby!” Draco told her, his lips ghosting hers. He looked into her eyes, and he could see that she was desperately trying to piece together the information he'd just given her. “He – he wants it to survive, Hermione. He says he wouldn't think of destroying it, that it is holy. And it makes sense, doesn't it? It's an innocent life. It has no errors while it's inside you. Please, Hermione” Draco said, falling to his knees, “please give this a chance! I couldn't bear it if you – if – …! It's a child, Hermione, it's our child!” Draco said with tears in his eyes. His voice was choked with emotion, “if – if you don't want it – please – carry it full term for me and let me raise it …!”

He watched her dissolve in tears. He held around her waist, gazing pleadingly into her face shrouded by rich curly locks of hair and darkness. She finally understood what he was talking about, and the stark plea and concern in his face brought her out of balance. She combed her fingers through his hair. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't compose herself enough to get them across her lips. Her tears fell onto his head, wetting his white-blond hair. Draco rested his face against her belly, imagining the tiny life now beating in there – somewhere.

The Fat Lady shut up. She had watched them from the moment Hermione emerged from the entrance. The Lady wasn't used to this kind of traffic at night, especially not from a young lady. Young ladies should be getting their beauty sleep, not wandering the corridors of Hogwarts at night. She had understood a long time before Hermione had. And this sort of drama was just her thing. What a tragedy! The Slytherin outcast and a Gryffindor lady! Such young tragic love!
Hagrid found them an hour later. They were both asleep by the portrait of the Fat Lady, spooned together. Draco lay behind Hermione, covering her protectively with his arms, his face shrouded by her hair. She had a troubled frown on her face as if she was having a bad dream. He got them sorted, told Hermione kindly but authoritatively to return to her dorm. Draco would have to go back to the hospital wing. Hermione dissolved in tears again, not tolerating to be separated from Draco so soon. Her mind was still chaotic about the whole thing. Draco was in no better state, but dared not speak up against Hagrid. He left her – reluctantly. The Fat Lady was in pieces, and admitted Hrmione back inside while she sobbed out in sympathy with the young Gryffindor. It had been decades since she'd witnessed such an emotional drama. It was quite the high light for her. She couldn't sleep after this, and within the next hour, every portrait in Hogwarts had heard the tragic tale of the two young lovers.

Two hours later, the day started, and about six hundred Hogwarts students awoke to another day, unaware of the night's events.

Draco overslept. He awoke at a quarter past eight, realising he'd barely make breakfast if he hurried. The instant he awoke, Hermione and the baby was on his mind. He rushed out of the hospital wing only to rush back in, cursing loudly for forgetting to put on suitable clothes instead of raving about in his pyjamas. He threw them on and half walked half ran to the Great Hall. Breakfast wasn't really on his mind. But she was. Correction. They were. Getting used to this concept took some getting used to.
Hermione quenched a yawn and got up from her seat. She was tired. Drowned in thoughts. Out of balance, and no matter whatHarry said, he couldn't get Hermione back on the right track. Harry wanted to know if it was Draco, if he'd done something to her – and Hermione almost blurted out with the news of her pregnancy. And in a way, she couldn't hide but half of the truth. Harry saw it instantly, and he exchanged glances with Neville the minute he understood it did in deed have something to do with Draco Malfoy. Ginny was all ears as well, all though she pretended to be intrigued with a book she'd brought. To spite Harry, she'd written: 'Property of the full-blood Weasley' on the back of the cover to make sure he got the message of her dislike for his book which once had belonged to the Half Blood Prince, whoever that was. The same book which had gotten her elder brother Ron in trouble.

Draco appeared through the door way. He was out of breath, his cheeks flushed, his hair unruly. He seemed uncomposed and his eyes swept across the hall in search of something. Harry started as Hermione literally leapt from her seat at the sight of Draco. Seeing how she saw him, Harry held his breath, pretending to be thirsty. He brought a glass of orange juice to his lips, eagerly anticipating some information concerning Hermione's state of mind. By the look it, something had happened during the night. Malfoy seemed distressed. They both did.

The world around them faded as they lay eyes on one another. Draco forgot his anxiety and walked straight off to the Gryffindor table. Gazing into her eyes, he saw an answer, but he couldn't be really sure. He had so hear her say the words.

“Are you – ?!” he began timidly.

“ – yes. I will keep it.”

Draco felt himself crumble inside. It was an implosion of untold emotional tension which had been building itself up ever since it became evident that she was to be the one. Sighing, shutting his eyes tight, he put his arms about her in a bruising embrace, squeezing her hard. She did the same, and holding back the tears was difficult. They stood for a long time, just holding one another whilst Seamus, Neville, Harry, Ginny and the twins gaped at the event unfolding before them. Draco let out a heartbreaking sigh/wail whilst they stood in the embrace, listening to Hermione's quiet sobs. He cupped her face in his hands, and brought her lips to his. They kissed over and over again, forgetting time and place, absolved in one another and the joint resolution they've made.
Harry let out an unconscious sigh and realised he was standing. He sat down and nipped at his orange juice. There was obviously nothing hostile between Hermione and Draco. Whatever had happened, they had worked it out. Nearly Headless Nick had joined them. He smiled graciously, and offered his congratulations. The Gryffindors turned their heads to look at the ghost, who laughed at their gullible expressions and said;

“Why, didn't you hear? The young lady is in … well, happy circumstances!” The Gryffindors looked from Nick to Hermione and Draco. Draco was holding her tight, burying his nose in her hair. He didn't smile though. He was livid with terror, as his agenda had moved on from worrying about whether or not Hermione wanted the baby, to how to keep mother and child out of harm's way. All other priorities were cast aside. He was still in shock, knowing he was to be a father, knowing what it meant. He would be responsible not only for Hermione but for another living being. Hermione rested her head against Draco's chest. She paid Nearly Headless Nick no heed. She was concerned. How would she aid Harry now? The child would have to come first. What would her parents say, knowing she was pregnant at sixteen? How would she and Draco be able to protect their child from Pansy Parkinson? What would become of them? Of the child? The questions were lining up, and she had no answers. She only had Draco, for the time being. And come evening, they would be separated again. She would go on the Hogwarts Express. He would travel to a place called the Lighthouse Farm. This could be their final hours together. She saw Ginny's disbelieving look. She saw Harry stare at her in wonder. They would have to be properly informed.

“I'm – I'm late for class!” Hermione looked up at Draco. She saw how he winced. They all did.

“Yes …!” Draco more or less sobbed, “of course. You should get going...!” he replied with great reluctance in his voice. He had a desperate look on his face. He freed himself from her with great difficulty. She was on the verge of tears again. He kissed her fiercely, much to the delight of the female bystanders. The kiss said it all; His devotion, their passion, their love and the emotional roller coaster they were on. To be madly in love – they swooned! The blokes rolled their eyes at the girls though they envied Draco's position. Who wouldn't want to kiss a girl the way Draco kissed?! There was no doubt he'd managed to get her in the sack, something which was quite a feat considering Draco was only sixteen. They'd probably done things the male students only could dream about.
Hermione freed herself from Draco's tight embrace and produced his wand. She gave it to him, looking him deep in the eye. They both knew he'd need his wand if he was to protect her from Pansy.

“I have Harry and Neville. And Ginny. I'm sure they'll protect me” Hermione told the Slytherin reassuringly, trying to seem confident. She could see he was searching the hall for Pansy Parkinson, but she was nowhere to be seen. “She left ten minutes ago” Hermione said, whilst the other Gryffindors disassembled, getting ready for class. Ginny and Harry lingered, drawing closer. If they could have grown larger ears on the spot, they would. They turned their heads to see Hagrid walk in. Draco sighed. Hermione clung to him one final time, giving him a timid kiss before she pulled away and walked out. Draco sat down and piled food on his plate quite mechanically. What was he to do? What he wanted the most was to draw her away from the studies, to be able to watch her every move until she got onto the Hogwarts Express. Lessons during the sixth year was demanding. Spells were expected to be cast non-verbally, both in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Charms. He knew Hermione struggled in Potions class. And it wouldn't harm for Draco to attend the classes either. He would have to bring his school books to this Lighthouse place in an attempt to read up on the vast curriculum. He'd lost two days worth of studying. When he was finished, he took his wand and followed Hagrid as usual back to the hospital wing. Training his wand carefully at Hagrid without the half-giant knowing, Draco whispered: “Confundo!” Hagrid stopped, looking puzzled.

“Did you forget something, Hagrid?” Draco asked innocently.

“Aye, I think I did. But I'll be damned if I can remember what it was.”

“Perhaps a lesson? You are after all Professor in the study of Magical creatures, are you not?”

“Aye. I am” Hagrid replied, looking completely dazzled.

“Maybe your students are already waiting for you by your house” Draco mentioned casually. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, knowing he was doing something illegal.

“Maybe tha's it! Will you manage?”

“Oh yes, don't worry about me” Draco replied with a confident smile. He felt tremendous relief as Hagrid turned on his heel and hurried toward the exit. Spinning, Draco set course for his room. He had to get dressed in his school uniform before he could go any where else. Before he could go to Hermione. He had to be there, to protect her!

He slammed the door shut behind him without thinking. He flicked his wand at the candlestick and the candles took flame immediately. He pulled off his clothes, thinking only of Hermione and Pansy together in the same classroom. Turning to get his school trousers, Draco gave a loud start as he came face to face with Melchior. Draco didn't see it coming, and only felt the blow before he tumbled against his bed. His left cheek burned.

“You're not being a very good boy now, Draco Malfoy” Melchior hissed at the blond.

“I – I have to be with her!” Dracoo objected, getting to his feet.

“Where you will be going tonight, everyone does their equal share. I'd hate for you to be in an unfit state in front of my superiors. If you fail to be on your best
behaviour because of her, then I might have to reconsider your relationship with that woman!” Melchior continued with contempt in his voice. “Did you not hear me? Their lives will not be at stake until after they return from Easter holiday. If you keep this up, you'll choke her. Give her time to breathe, to think about what it means to be involved with a lowlife Slytherin like yourself who fails to in charge of his own life! Now, since you're already half naked, turn around and drop your underwear to the ground.”

The Slytherin could not shield his resentment. He stared at his feet, whimpering and shaking his head weakly. He thought of Hermione. He would not yield. Every nerve in him cried, begged him to get going to her. He had no desire to be with Melchior. He felt no pleasure to think about the huge cock in his arse. He just wanted to burst through
that door and run to her!

The eudaimon seized him by the throat. Draco gasped and looked straight into the eudaimon's angry face. Those brown eyes had turned golden with rage, and Draco fought to draw air down to his lungs. He was twisted around, and Melchior grasped the Slytherin by the neck, forcing his head down into the bed. Draco cried out his objections. He felt his underwear being dragged down violently. He heard a noise of metal, and realised that Melchior had drawn a sword. But he could not see. Moments later, the hilt of a long-bladed dagger – a kind of stiletto – connected with Draco's pale cheeks. The boy howled as pain seared through his backside. Again, another blow hit him, leaving fat red marks across his perfectly rounded pale cheeks. Draco gasped. Another blow came immediately – followed by another, until Draco's legs were quivering from the strain and the shock and he was sobbing for mercy. He heard the dagger being tossed aside. The bruising grip on his neck loosened but Melchior grasped his hips, parted his cheeks and aimed his throbbing erection at Draco's opening before the Slytherin could think. Draco opened his eyes wide by the sensation of that rock hard cock ghosting the surface of his puckered entrance.

“It is tempting to let something like this be Miss Granger's last memory of you before she leaves for the holidays. It would most likely be a most unpleasant way to start her vacation. And I'm confident the vivid and sickening images of you in this position will influence her once she's home listening to her parents as they give her ten good reasons why their daughter should have an abortion.”
Melchior hesitated. “Shall I do it? Shall I – how do you wizards say it – 'Apparate' us to her class right here and now, so she can see for herself?”
Draco bit back his sobs and shook his head vigorously. He felt so small. So insignificant. Never before had another person's well being ever mattered more.

“Then heed my bidding and return to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey is allowing you to stay out of genuine kindness. You need your rest. She thinks she can protect you by having you stay there. For all it's worth, she is right on every point except the last one.” Melchior said, letting go of Draco. His voice had softened. He watched Draco climb onto the bed, shaking and sobbing, fumbling to get his underwear back on.

“Humans” Melchior muttered dejectedly under his breath. “No wonder the Seventh Plane of Hell crumbled to pieces.”


Madam Pomfrey was surprised and excited to be presented with such an overwhelming large bouquet of red roses. Her cheeks acquired a rosy pink, and she couldn't hold back a flattered smile. She accepted the bouquet from Draco and put an endearing hand to his cheek, thanking him for the flowers. On his way back to the hospital wing, it had occurred to Draco what the eudaimon had been saying between the lines. Draco had been so caught up in his own fears concerning the future he didn't see those who cared for him in the present. The eudaimon had been playing nice, letting Draco off with a warning. The thought of this somewhat lessened the pain on his backside, but sitting down was still a struggle. The spanking was something new, and it made Draco feel as a little naughty boy. No one had ever laid hands on him the way Melchior did. Of course Draco had heard of spanking, but it had been something his father had done to the house elves at Malfoy Manor. When Lucius Malfoy lost his temper with the house elves, it couldn't really be called spanking, Draco added to himself. He had witnessed it many times, watching his father beat the poor elf time and time again until the elf went limp and reduced to a lump of ruddy meat. Draco had been five years old the first time he'd witnessed his father beat an elf. It had frightened the blond boy but it had also taught him that house elves had no value. They were of no importance except when they misbehaved. And Lucius Malfoy's face had been cold as ice afterwards – his chiselled noble features stained with red blotches. As with any boy, Draco had adored his father. And Draco had quenched the tiny voices in the back of his mind which told him that what his father had done to the elf, was wrong.

Draco laid down on his bed, thinking about his father. He kept thinking about what the eudaimon had mentioned about the Seventh Plane of Hell. He'd read about it in a book somewhere in his youth. It had been a collector's item, named 'Hellish tales from the Underworld.' It had been a part of Lucius' hidden book collection concerning Demonology and Dark Arts' formulas. Draco had loved the moments when he was allowed to follow his father down to the secret office. At first, he'd shown no interest in the books, but had joined Lucius for the pure excitement of doing something secret. Then, in his fifth year at Hogwarts, Draco had become interested in the books, browsing through them and reading bits and pieces. He had read about a place in Hell called the Seventh Planes of Hell. But he'd lost interest the moment he'd realised that the prince consort in fact was a man. Draco had never understood gay love. He had put the book away, disgusted by the idea of two men having it off. Draco's world had been black and white. The prince in the book was no wizard, only a prince. And that made him a Muggle. A gay Muggle. The worst sort. But Draco had read enough to understand that the Demon King's empire crumbled because of that man. That Muggle. The world had been an easy place to live in, back then. It had been divided into Muggles, Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns. No grey areas.

Draco drifted off to sleep, dreaming of grey clouds. He awoke to Hermione's distant laughter. He shifted and saw her talking to Madam Pomfrey who was showing off her bunch of roses from Draco. He heard her say that oh well, let the boy sleep, she had another class to attend to. She left, and Draco drifted off to sleep again, scarcely believing how tired he was. She came to him again when it was lunch break. She wondered if it would be all right for Draco to join her for their after lunch free period, seeing how she had a ton of messages and notes to convey to him. Madam Pomfrey obliged grudgingly. He took her hand. He was dressed in casual clothes. A black sweater and black pants. They stopped by for his schoolbooks before proceeding to the Great Hall. Again, she held his hand tight and brought him over to the Gryffindors. Draco followed obediently, realising Pansy Parkinson also was present among the Slytherins. He'd hidden his wand in his sleeve, hoping it would do in case she tried something. Draco sat down next to Hermione. Almost immediately, Harry and Neville took up seats opposite the couple, effectively blocking their view towards Pansy.

“Are we studying afterwards?” Harry wanted to know, looking at Hermione.

“Yes” she replied in a as-a-matter-of-factly voice. Draco disentangled his hand from hers and put in around her waist. The Slytherin and the Gryffindor gazed at each other to such an extent that Harry and Neville became slightly uncomfortable. They commenced to eat.

“So …” Harry began, wringing his hands after a considerable time, “is everything all right between the two of you then?” The Gryffindor winced the moment he'd asked the question, immediately seeing how profoundly stupid it sounded. Hermione kept her mouth shut. She wanted Draco to answer it, seeing how he hadn't said a word at all yesterday when they had been seated with the Gryffindors during dinner. Finally taking the hint, Draco looked at Harry and nodded. “It, uhm, didn't quite go as planned” Draco added weakly. He glanced up to see Ron seat himself next to Seamus some seats away.

“I can see that” Harry said, raising his eyebrows. “But it did happen, I take it?”

“What?” Neville asked. “What happened?”

“Yes” Draco swallowed, “yes it did. But as long as she is fine with it, then so am I.” Harry looked from Draco to Hermione. Her face was open, honest and she smiled weakly.

“It's none of your business, Harry James Potter” she said to him, trying to sound stern.

“Huh? What is?” Neville said, looking flabbergasted. He kept looking from Hermione to Harry and then to Draco. “Are you sort of – are you – are you dating? Him?!” Neville asked Hermione, pointing at Draco. “A Slytherin?”

“Good. Good” Harry sighed relieved. “That's good, uhm, then – so I won't have to, I mean, it's fine, you're absolutely right. None of my concern. But, uhm, you know, uhm , Nearly Headless Nick....what did he..?” Harry stuttered, being on totally thin ice through which he could see the big black hole of embarrassment under. Why had he even asked? Harry cursed under his breath, not sure he wanted the answer.

“A Slytherin?! Oh, no offence Draco, it's just that, well, it's sort of unheard of, really” Neville also stuttered, sensing he was sliding out on same said ice where Harry currently was. Draco looked at Hermione. Hermione looked at Draco. They had a secret. Draco put his arm around her shoulders.

“It's – it's sort of new to us yet, really, so …!” Hermione apologized, feeling comforted by Draco's presence. He was leaving the decision concerning the news to her.

It suddenly occurred to them both that they weren't ready. Hermione wasn't ready to tell anyone just yet. Her initial thought was to tell it to Harry on the train, but now she was uncertain. Harry had a connection to Voldemort through his mind. And Voldemort wasn't exactly fond of the Malfoys these days. And she was a Mudblood. And then there was Ron. He was staring into his plate some metres away, shooting daggers at Draco from a distance.
She had no idea how she was going to tell her parents. She couldn't tell them unprepared. She had to know more. She was well aware that she was only sixteen. They had raised her to be sensible and utterly practical and she knew they would try to persuade her to have an abortion or to give it up for adoption. They would try to make her leave school. They would support her, but they would ultimately work against her, unless she had Draco by her side when she told them.
Harry and Neville frowned as all colour suddenly drained from Hermione's face. Draco looked concerned at her, and she leant in and whispered something in his ear. They watched Draco nod in agreement, and Hermione seemed more confident. It began to sink in into Harry's mind that the Slytherin and the Gryffindor had formed some kind of fragile relationship. But they were both still shy and uncomfortable in the light of the public. The affection the Slytherin had developed for the Gryffindor didn't go unnoticed, and people turned their heads to watch Draco Malfoy's arm draped around Hermione's shoulders. Draco let go off her. Some Gryffindors made a giggle, and someone shouted 'Hey Malfoy, have you gone colour blind? She's a Gryffindor!' Draco glanced into the eyes of Pansy Parkinson across the hall for a moment. She was staring intently at him, not looking particularly pleased.

Draco wanted to confide in Neville. Draco didn't dare to tell Harry. But now was not the time. Hermione called the shots and he was fine with it.

“Don't listen to them, Draco, they're a bunch of gits! The lot of them!”

“Thanks Neville” Draco replied, getting up from his seat while Hermione tugged at his arm.

“Where ....?” Neville began.

“Library. We'll, uhm, study in the library” Draco replied with a faint smile and picked up his books.


Library.
They sat down together. Hermione opened the large and richly decorated book. They sat in silence, while she turned the pages. As the graphic descriptions evolved across the pages, Draco sighed, taking in the physiological changes Hermione would be undergoing during the pregnancy. The graphical depiction of the baby moved and kicked inside its graphic mother, and Hermione shuddered at the thought of having such an uncontrollable creature inside her. And it occurred to her that what goes in must one day come out. A calendar had been printed on the bottom of the page, and Draco and Hermione calculated that the baby would be due in January 1997. Draco put his arm around her shoulders, turned the page, and they read about the various stages of labour. The page depicted various positions the woman could give birth in. Leafing quickly past the horrible chapter, they read about how to care for a newborn, and they studied the many pictures of various babies. It dawned on Hermione what she was in for. She looked at Draco. He was paler than usual, but his jaw was set and he didn't seem terrified. They looked at one another, and Hermione found reassurance in his open face.

Hermione found them a map of Scotland, and together they located the Isle of Lewis. Being a wizard's map, the map was three dimensional. Searching the map, they found only one lighthouse. One which existed in the Muggle world as well. Once they tapped at the lighthouse, a scribble of blue letters took form just above it, hovering a mere inch over the miniature white lighthouse. It read: 'Lighthouse Farm. Here be demons.' It was meant as a warning, no doubt. The Lighthouse, painted white, was accompanied by several smaller, whiter houses with a square courtyard in the middle. The scene had a typical Scottish feel to it – turf-covered roofs, weatherbeaten and boasting with hundreds of years worth of tradition. Built between 1859 and 1862 by Muggles David and Thomas Stevenson. Inhabited by demons since 1863.

She gave him a note with her home address in Kent. It had a phone number below, in case he wanted to call, she said. She would love it if he could give her a sign, so she would know he was all right, or if he needed help. They tried not to talk about what could happen at the Lighthouse Farm. But when the farewell drew near, Draco said: “I won't give him an excuse to hold me back. I'll be reunited with you here again, I swear. One way or the other. We'll face Pansy Parkinson and her demons together. Maybe we could do something for Harry as well. You know, Dumbledore said the funniest thing about Pansy. About the Death Eaters, and he said I mustn't interfere. That I had to help protect the other students at any cost. As if Harry had to face Voldemort all by himself.”

With the final class over, there was little time before the train left at Hogsmeade. Draco had packed his trunk as well, and they stood for a long time just kissing, hugging and kissing some more. Hermione put her hands around his waist, beneath his jacket. In a matter of days she'd touched Draco Malfoy in ways she never thought she would have a year ago. He let her draw him close to her, let her have all of him. He denied her nothing. Neville and Harry came down the stair and waited for her. They too, had learned to know Draco in a whole new way this past week, never thinking the Slytherin capable of harbouring so much love and passion. It was almost sickening the way Draco clung to her. Harry wondered if it was himself who was a git when it came to girls or if it was Malfoy who had gone completely soft. Either way, the Slytherin was unrecognisable in his behaviour towards Hermione. Harry was relieved beyond words to see them friendly with each other, but this – this was almost too much lovey dovey cuddle. Neville was gaping and sent Harry a meaningful stare.


“Get a room you two” he finally muttered, obviously tired of waiting.

“Take good care of yourself” Draco whispered into Hermione's ear, “and of our little one.”
Hermione didn't answer. She was fighting a lump in her throat and the tears pressed on. She freed herself from him, grasped her trunk and trudged off with a defeated posture. Ginny was waiting by the door, and she immediately saw Hermione's distress. The Gryffindor cried all the way to Hogsmeade, and Ginny kept muttering about how it probably all was that Slytherin's fault. On the train, Hermione had had enough of her. She had seated herself in a cabin with Ron, Harry, Neville and Ginny.

“I told you that git wasn't any good for you” Ron said quietly, speaking more to the window than to Hermione.

“What is it, Hermione?” Harry began, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “is it Draco? Are you really that madly in love with him?”
Ginny put a comforting hand around her, and Neville sighed before he said: “Look, is it something he did? Something he said? Where's Draco going anyway? Back to Malfoy Manor? Or is he staying?”

“He – the eudaimon has – has ordered him to go to a place called the – the Lighthouse Farm. It's a demon nest on the Isle of Lewis” she sobbed, “he – I don't know – he wasn't sure he could come back. The – eudaimon didn't say” she sobbed. “He promised he would return after the holidays, but – but … !” She hid her face in her palms. She sobbed silently for a long time, then she wiped her nose with a tissue before she decided she would say it.

“I'm – I'm expecting his child” Hermione sobbed. “I took the test last night. It's Draco's baby.”
Through the silence which immediately ensued, only Hermione's quiet sobs could be heard. Harry was dumbstruck. Ginny sat as frozen, and Neville mouth was opening and shutting but no sound came. Ron was staring at her with a look of utter disbelief. “You – you slept with him …!” he whispered.

“The – the eudaimon warned him afterwards. That Pansy – that she would be summoning a demon once we – we return to Hogwarts. It's going to be aimed – at me. And – but I don't even know if Draco – if he – will be able to get back in time … !” she wailed.

“That's why Draco has been hanging around you, guarding you like a – a … !” realisation was catching up with Neville. He too had reacted to the way Draco had clung to Hermione for the past days, but now it all made sense.

“Why did you sleep with him?” Ron asked her quietly.

“It was a test. The – the eudaimon wanted Draco to – to rape me. But he wouldn't!” Hermione wailed.

“He swore to me he wouldn't harm you. He didn't want to hurt you.” Harry added silently. It was strange knowing that a piece of Draco was with them right now, inside Hermione.

“And he never did. He kept that promise. He struggled. And when he refused the eudaimon again, the eudaimon came after me. I couldn't sleep at night, he kept – coming in my dreams. He made me – dream of Draco – sneaking in to the dorm, and he was really bad. Worse than he used to be. Really – really evil! Every night it was a new scenario in which Draco raped me” Hermione moaned. “I wanted it to stop! I never told Draco. The eudaimon was in my head. So I decided to put an end to it, and – and I went to Draco's room.”

Silence. Again. They could barely keep up with her stuttering, half choked tale, but they began to get the picture. They had both been forced. Both.

“And – and Draco was so good to me. He was – he was – loving, and careful. And he hated himself for it, thinking he was hurting me!” Hermione sobbed, wiping her eyes and nose for the hundredth time. “He – he thinks that the eudaimon now is angry because he got me pregnant. The – the eudaimon said the life – in me is holy. That he wouldn't touch it. But – but Draco said he hadn't looked pleased. I – we think he's out to punish Draco at – the Lighthouse Farm.” Hermione's mind seemed to be coming into action again. She had wept herself dry, and was slowly recuperating from the emotional breakdown.

Ginny sat with a lump in her throat. She had seen them say good-bye, telling them to get over themselves already. But it could have been a last farewell. Now, she felt guilty for those harsh words.

“You – you mustn't tell any one” Hermione urged them. Neville sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. Harry still stared wide-eyed at her. Ron was silent, staring into the floor.

“I always thought it would be you and me” Weasley finally said quietly.

“So did I” Hermione replied.


The Crimson Lotus.
Draco stood by the lake. Up and to his left was Hogwarts Castle, its spires rising proudly against the twilight sky. The sun had long since faded and the sky had turned a dark blue, as had the snow which otherwise gleamed in a brilliant white. He put his trunk down. The pier was covered in ice and snow and it creaked and moaned beneath the weight of his feet. His thoughts went to Hermione. She was on the Hogwarts Express now, bound for London. He felt anguish. Anguish because he had been allowed to know such love, but only ever so briefly. Three days of total bliss. He was to be a father. Him! He who had no value at all, no prospect of a future. A Death Eater's son.
There was a surge through the air, and a wild gust combed the snowy ground, whirling snowflakes up in the air. The air went electric. Draco shuddered. Something was about to happen. His heart began to beat faster as he saw a black dot in the sky, coming closer, growing bigger. As it flew closer and lower towards the surface of the lake, Draco could make out its shape. It was a ship! And it was huge. Its gigantic crimson sails stood ablaze against the fading daylight, and its hulls were blacker than the darkest corners in the Slytherin common room. Draco watched breathlessly as the ship glided towards the water and made an elegant splash as it settled. Its manner seemed to convey to Draco that what he beheld was the equivalent to a nobility, a queen nonetheless, who carried herself with dignity and grace. And she was Passion, and Lust and Sex down to the very last nail. A shameless, dignified queen of whores – if there ever were logic in such an expression. She seemed to beckon to him, and Draco thought he heard a Siren's song, tugging in his chest and in his loins. 'Come', she seemed to sing to Draco, 'come into my flesh, lose yourself in me. Give all of yourself to me...!'
It occurred to him that this was – beyond anything – a magical creature. A ship in which every last piece of timber was alive. And she welcomed him. Wanted him. Was spreading her legs to him and inviting him in. It was a frightening thought for a small sixteen year old who felt as if he was about to enter a hotel room with a seasoned hooker for the first time in his life.

A flash of blue light sparked once then disappeared. From the railing of the ship shot a jetstream of white-blue sparkling light, and as it progressed toward him, Draco saw how its shape shifted into that of an icy aisle. It connected to the pier. Draco took his trunk. His hands shook. It wasn't the cold. Once again his thoughts went to Hermione, and in his mind he told her good-bye once more, not knowing if he'd ever see her again. He tried not to look down, as the aisle hovered in mid-air about a metre and a half above the freezing water of the Black Lake. He tried not to think that ending up in that water now, was certain death. Instead, Draco kept his gaze fixed firmly on the red sails. Daylight was vanishing fast. As he came closer, he saw that Melchior was waiting on the deck. He reached out his hand, and Draco took it, accepting to be helped onto deck. Draco held on to his trunk while he gazed appalled at the sight of the crew.

They had turned towards him to gaze at the visitor. Draco drew close to Melchior, swallowing hard. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at what he saw. The crewmen were a sickening assembly of what seemed to be priests in various stages of decay. The shock was so great Draco's feet seemed to freeze to the deck, and he held his breath. He tried but couldn't avoid staring into their eyeless sockets, the flesh which hung in rags from the bones on their bodies. The ghosts – howling and complaining at the newcomer. They all stepped closer. Melchior put his arm around Draco's shoulder.

“I know what you're all thinking! He's a handsome lad, but he will not be yours” a voice called out from the helm. Draco turned his head to gaze in awe as the captain of the ship stepped down the stairs. He was clad in a sailor's outfit from the sixteen century. His bandanna sparkled in the moonlight, his eyes gleamed as if they were made of gold and he grinned widely, displaying a set of white fangs. He offered Draco his hand, and Draco shook it weakly, seeing only the overly large sleeves inlaid with silver thread on black fabric, the white lice shining in the weak light, and the long sharp nails attached to the fingertips of a slender hand.

“Captain John Sparrow, at your service” the captain grinned again, speaking softly. Draco looked up into his face and immediately thought he saw similarities with Melchior.

“Draco Malfoy” Draco replied, shuddering quite involuntarily.

“I know” the captain with the golden eyes replied half ironically, flashing a grin. “My son's target. Or whore, or whatever he chooses to call you.” The captain leaned in closer to have a better look at Malfoy. His long, dark hair was littered with shimmering stones and trinkets, and Draco shrank away under his gaze. He turned shyly towards Melchior, wishing he could bury himself in his master's robes. “Mmm, no. Not a whore. A … warrior. A Child Bearer.”

“A – a Child Bearer?” Melchior exclaimed. “Are you sure?” He seemed very surprised.

“Whatever it was you were thinking, my son, it was the right decision. And considering what you mean to achieve by bringing him to the Lighthouse Farm, I'd say you are right again. Of my three sons, you appear by far to be the one most intelligent. It pleases me immensely!” The eerie captain said, waltzing back to the staircase leading up to the helm. Draco watched the aisle disappear, and he felt the ship turn, waves splashing against the hulls. Gaining speed, Draco held on to his winter cap, still clinging to Melchior. He felt the ship lift into the air, much the same way a jet carrier took off from the runway. Beneath them, Hogwarts diminished. So did the forest, the familiar land signs, the lake itself and the small needlepoints which were the lights of Hogsmeade. It was fantastic to behold, and the chilly wind soon became unbearable.

“Come inside” Melchior urged him softly, and Draco was herded over to the captain's cabin below the helm. Once inside, Melchior shut the doors, and Draco took of his hat.
“Have you had supper?” Melchior asked him kindly. Draco shook his head. A fireplace was a blaze with burning logs. “Would you like to lie down?” Draco shook his head again.

“Aren't you going to rape me?” Draco asked him bluntly, ignoring the kind words.

“No” Melchior replied.

“When will we get there?”

The ship rocked a little in what had to be turbulence.

“Within the hour” Melchior replied.

“That was your father?”

“Yes.”

“You have brothers? Other eudaimons?”

“Malachi lives at the Lighthouse Farm with his family. Marian's in Japan. He's got a thing for Japanese boys. And some girls. But mostly boys.”

Draco sighed. He noticed a tray with silver plates. The food was steamy hot, right from the oven. Accompanied with a glass of red wine.

“You shouldn't go outside those doors by yourself. The crewmen will tear you to pieces. They're not fond of the living.”

“What – what will happen to me? At the Farm?” Draco stared at him with pleading eyes. “Am I to be punished? Am I to suffer because she's with child?!” Draco wailed. He felt his knees go weak.

“I am taking you there because I want you to meet my brother and his family. The way you behave while you're with my brother's family will determine the outcome of our future relationship. And thus, indirectly, your relationship to the mother of your child.” Melchior paused. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the floor next to it,
spreading his wings out over the floor. Draco retreated to the desk with the tray of food. He sat down on the chair next to it.

“Why don't you eat, and I'll talk.” Melchior suggested with compelling voice. But Draco was too distressed. Being in the same room as the eudaimon was never a good thing.

“I believe it's time I showed you a different side of me. If you are to be my servant and to do my bidding, you have to trust me. You say you are mine, but you're holding back. You distrust me. You fear me and you're angry with me.”

Silence. The words coming out of the eudaimon's mouth were soft and considerate. Well formulated.

“That's not the kind of servant I want. When we get to the Lighthouse Farm I want you to be yourself. That's all I ask. For now.”

Silence.

“Where – do you – come from?” Draco asked after a while. “I mean – when you're not with me, where do you go?”

“To Hell. Where I help Malachi rebuild our great grandfather's castle. Or I bring down demons or damned souls who run away from Hell. Or I you'll find me torturing other targets. For you are not the only one. The list goes on and on...!”

“Is – Voldemort on that list?”

“No” Melchior said with a brief grin.

“You don't think he deserves to – to be on that list? He killed Harry's parents …!”

“That decision is not mine to make. He may deserve to be on the list – I'll agree with you on that – but he has another fate in store for him. InSeptember, your name was on top of my list, and that's that! Nothing to be done with. But as you can see, I am not without the capacity to influence the events to come. You're still around, and now
it's April!”

“Uhm, do you have a – a mother?” Draco wanted to know. He had realised there was a change in the eudaimon's behaviour. And Draco had to take advantage of it.

“No. My other father was a human, a Muggle. A prophet. And the Son of God. Two thousand years after their initial meeting, they met again. The prophet had been reincarnated
into a priest. Now, John hates priests.” Melchior grinned, “but he instantly recognised the soul of his former lover. So their souls united, much to the dismay of the priest, and from his belly came three brothers. First Marian. Then me. Then Malachi.” Melchior flashed a grin. “If you ask Malachi, he'll say that he is the second eldest and that I'm the baby brother. That's his version. We never agree on that point, and John can't remember.”

“You're – you're triplets?”

“That's right” Melchior replied softly. His beautiful features were soft and mild, his nut-shaped brown eyes open and honest. Draco felt a tingle between his thighs, and decide to act on it. He ventured over to the built in bed in the wall, to which Melchior lounged from the floor. Sitting down, Draco looked at him again, willing himself to trust him.

“What happened to your other dad?”

“Gilbert died. Of old age. They – uhm – put in an effort to stay together and raise us. But for Gilbert it was always difficult to swallow the fact that he had helped what he thought were demons into this world. It went against everything he believed in, yet he never found the strength to leave. And John never really loved him, only the soul he saw inside, which was that of another man and not Gilbert.”

“What was he called? The other one?”

“Jesus of Nazareth.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Just as well. My father has never loved anyone so unconditionally as him” Melchior sighed. He all of the sudden seemed tired, and he closed his eyes. A fine line of thick, delicate lashes against soft pale skin. Draco had never before studied his face in such detail. Melchior snored softly, and Draco raised his eyebrows in wonder. He took off his winter coat and curled up on the bed beside Melchior, and his pale face was almost in contact with the dark curls of the eudaimon. Draco closed his eyes and dreamt of Hermione.