The Slytherin Redemption: Now Complete

This chapter is dedicated to my mom, who at the age of sixty-nine, got her first tattoo to commemorate her fight with a debilitating disease. Mom, you rock.

Both chapters 14 and 15 were beta'ed by Drusilla of Perfect Imagination.

Salavation

Chapter 14

The Sunday before the Yule Ball, Liz travelled by Floo powder to The Burrow. It was time for her fitting, and she was rather nervous about how the dress would look. Ginny had been tight-lipped about the whole thing, not even letting Liz know what colour it was. The redhead had hinted that her straight-laced mother was scandalised by it. That really did not make Liz feel any easier about it. She was not sure if she could carry off scandalous, or even moderately sexy, for that matter.

She met, or rather fell over Mrs. Weasley coming out of the Floo. She thanked God that she had chosen to wear slacks to the event, as both women went sprawling on the floor. Ginny followed with her three children in tow, and was taken by a fit of giggles. Liz grunted, a little put out that her predicament was so amusing to the redhead, but when she thought about it, after she had scrambled up and helped the matriarch of the clan to her feet, she laughed through a fit of sneezing. Ginny sent the children to find their grandfather and introduced Liz to her mother. “This is my mum, Molly Weasley. Mum, Liz Cowell.”

“I'm glad to finally meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” Liz said politely. “I've heard so much about you. I believe you worked with Drake to get your foster children?”

“It's Molly, dear,” Molly said, giving her an odd look. “You work with Draco Malfoy? I'm sure he's said quite a bit about our family.”

“Mum,” Ginny warned. “You know he's not the same git I went to school with, and he and Liz are practically an item now.”

Molly's eyebrows rose almost to her brow-line. “Really? I was under the impression that I made the dress so she could accompany Neville to the ball.”

“Yes, you did,” Liz replied; she could have pinched Ginny at that moment.

“It's a long story, Mum,” Ginny smirked. “Rather sordid too."

Liz heard Molly mutter to herself. She could make out the words no wonder and Malfoy. The older woman went ahead of them and Ginny rolled her eyes. Liz almost sniggered, but caught herself. The older redhead was doing her a favour, after all.

The three went to the kitchen where the dress was hanging from a magical dress-form that had been given Liz's colouring and projected hairstyle. Scandalous was not the word that came to mind when Liz saw it. It was made of a heavy, clinging slipper-satin of palest aqua. Thin straps of rhinestones at each shoulder supported the bodice, with its almost bra-like appearance, and the skirt formed a fishtail with a small train. Liz had been worried the dress would be too revealing, but Ginny had kept it surprisingly conservative, almost plain.

Then the form shifted, and Liz saw the reason for the consternation on the older woman's part. The back of the dress was almost nonexistent, plunging almost to the top of the model's buttocks. The only thing holding the dress in place, that Liz could see, was a thin band of rhinestones that clipped at the bra-line and fell in a long chain to just past the top of the skirt. Liz glanced at Ginny, noting her barely-suppressed glee.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked with sparking eyes and a broad smile.

Liz said, “Wow. I've never seen anything like it. It's... ah...”

Molly weighed in, “It's going to scandalise the whole school, that's what. I just don't know what your generation sees in these Muggle-style robes.”

“Mum, Liz is a Muggle,” Ginny laughed. “Do you like it, Liz?”

“It's gorgeous. If I weren't built like a stick, I'd probably look like a movie star,” Liz said, running her fingers over the cool cloth.

“Well, try it on, dear.” Molly said kindly. “I'm sure you will look wonderful in it.”

Ginny showed Liz to her old bedroom where Liz changed in front of one of those talking mirrors that wizards loved so much. The mirror gave a low wolf-whistle, but refrained from further comment. She looked critically at herself, noting the tattoos on her back and upper arms were bared. Damn. She wished she had the money to have them removed. All but the one in the small of her back, the one to commemorate the life of the boy murdered the night she was abducted. She saw that it was framed between the panels of the dress. The leaves of the lotus and the Chinese characters in the tattoo were complemented by the pale colour of the cloth.

Ginny knocked, and Liz bade her to enter. The redhead clapped exuberantly. “It fits almost perfectly. Let's go show Mum.”

&*&*&

Draco was playing Wands and Snakes with Scorpius when a knock on the door came. He ignored it at first. Sunday afternoon, after Mass and family dinner, was his time with Scorpius. Everyone knew that. They continued their game, Scorpius crowing loudly when his piece was whisked up two levels because he landed on a wand. Draco laughed as his son gave a small victory dance. “You really are a silly boy, Scorpius. You haven't won yet.”

The knock came again, more insistent this time. Draco scowled. “Dammit. Let me see who that is, and then we'll continue the game. Don't cheat.” Draco warned as he went to the door. His son laughed as Draco turned and caught the child with his chubby fingers on Draco's game-piece. “Brat.”

Blaise Zabini was waiting in the hall. Draco greeted him, trying not to scowl. “Blaise, come in.”

The Professor nodded, and on entering the room, seemed to take note of the domestic scene. “Draco, I'm sorry to bother you, but this is the only day I can get away from my duties. I really need to speak with you. Is Ms. Cowell about?”

“No.” Draco motioned the man to a seat, “Is it about Toby? I can get in touch with her if need be.”

“It's better if she's not present. Can you break away for a moment?” He moved his eyes to Scorpius, intimating he needed to speak to Draco privately.

“Certainly.” Draco moved to his son. “Daddy and Mr. Zabini must have a meeting. Can you entertain yourself quietly while we speak?”

“Yes, Daddy, and I won't cheat.” The boy moved to the TV, and switched it on to the educational channel to which Draco had Charmed it.

“En Francais?” Zabini asked, slipping into their usual mode of communication when around Goyle and Crabbe in the Common Room at school.

Draco grimaced. “I'm a little more than rusty. Let's just go to the kitchen. I'll make tea.”

The two men repaired to the kitchen, Blaise assuming his post at the table, while Draco set the electric kettle to boil. “So, what is it? Has there been another attack since the Bludger incident?”

“No.” Blaise looked away, obviously embarrassed. “How is your relationship with Ms. Cowell?”

The kettle began steaming and Draco prepared the mugs. “Do you take milk and sugar, or plain, like a man?”

“Plain, please.” Zabini answered.

The kettle began whistling and Draco poured the hot water over the teabags, letting them steep for a moment. “What's this about, Blaise? Don't tell me your old prejudice is resurfacing.”

“Hardly.” Blaise sipped the hot liquid. “Where are you going to celebrate Yule?”

“I'm losing patience with this, Zabini.” Draco bestowed a hard glare on his old friend. “Either tell me what this is about, or leave. You've interrupted my time with Scorpius.”

“It seems young Mr. Cowell has decided you should be his father,” Blaise began. He told the entire story of the Charmed mistletoe, including the portion in which Longbottom and Hannah Abbott were almost compelled to have sex in the hallway. Draco began laughing. By the end of the story, tears ran down his cheeks.

Blaise stopped speaking, and then observed, “I take it there would be no problem with you being compelled to kiss Ms. Cowell?”

“There hasn't been yet,” Draco retorted. “I do imagine though, that shagging in my Aunt's parlour wouldn't get us another invitation.”

Blaise nodded. “I have instructed them on the proper use of Charms, so I'm sure they won't be using the same ones. I just wanted you to be aware.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment before the inevitable question arose. “So, are you serious about her?”

“I think I am.” It was Draco's turn to be uncomfortable. “I was going to wait until we've actually dated to ask her, but I think I want to marry her.”

Blaise's expression went through several emotions before it settled on quizzical. “Then, why is she going on a date with Neville?”

“I want her to realise that I'm not the only man who desires her.” Draco looked away from his friend's gaze. “She doesn't know how beautiful she is, and I want her to.”

“Merlin, Draco, you are really one twisted fuck.” Blaise shook his head. “You don't think you're good enough for her. I never knew a Malfoy could have an under-confidence problem. Don't bollocks this up by letting Longbottom be the better man.”

“As if that were possible,” Draco muttered. “I just want her to have one date that's not with a Death Eater. Then she can settle down with me and be my love slave.”

“I'd like to see that.” Zabini's dark eyes lit lasciviously.

Draco countered, “Perv.”

Draco stood, hearing another knock on his door. “Jesus, what is it with company today?”

He opened the door to a grim-faced Potter and his equally saturnine partner. Draco felt his heart plummet. “Potter, Finnegan, come in.”

&*&*&

Liz and Ginny entered the kitchen and Molly Weasley gasped. Liz hunched her shoulders self-consciously, knowing she must look a fright with her tattoos.

“Oh, you were right, Ginny,” the older woman breathed. “She looks just like a Muggle model. Your figure is just perfect. Why do you have pictures on your skin?”

“Tattoos, Mum.” Ginny volunteered. “Muggles get them to decorate themselves.”

Molly peered closely at the phoenix on Liz's arm. “They're quite fanciful. Do they come off?”

“No, they're done with inks that are put under the skin. They're permanent,” Liz sighed. “Sometimes I wish I had never gotten them.”

“Oh, no dear, they are lovely. You look like a walking art gallery,” Molly smiled and circled around Liz. “What's this one mean?”

Liz felt her fingers on the lotus tattoo. She almost choked as she answered, “I got that one to honour a boy who was murdered.”

“Oh, dear.” Molly patted her back. “Let's get to work. I'm sure you have things to do. Arthur would love to meet you. He loves Muggles. I wonder where he's gotten to. Ginny, dear, could you find him, please?” Turning back to Liz, she asked archly, “Unless you're free for dinner?”

“Thank you, but I've made other plans,” Liz demurred, liking Molly even for all her managing ways.

Picking up her wand, Molly said, “Another time then, dear. Maybe we can invite Neville... or Malfoy,” she added begrudgedly.

The older woman began flicking her wand over the dress, drawing it in at the breasts, adjusting the fit of the straps. Liz was amazed at the speed with which she dispatched the work. Liz had been forced to learn to sew in school and had hated it because the results were not instant. That, and she could not sew a straight line to save her life. Liz almost wished that she could have learned to sew the magical way.

Ginny entered the room with a paunchy older man. Molly greeted him with a little peck. “Arthur, this is Liz Cowell. She works at the Muggle Liaison Office with Draco Malfoy.”

“Pictures,” he said. Liz backed away as he approached her, as if he were seemingly drawn to the tattoos. “I've heard of these, but I've never seen them close-up. Do you mind?”

“Uh, no.” Liz held herself still, afraid to move in the presence of such obvious madness.

Molly said, “Arthur, wouldn't it be nice if we got one to commemorate Fred? Do you think they would take on a wizard?”

Liz darted a glance at Ginny, who was fighting a losing battle with her mirth. The Floo flared from the other room. Ginny said, voice shaking, “I'll get that.”

Molly finished the fitting under Arthur's scrutiny, when Ginny returned. “Liz, we need to get you back to London. Are you finished with the fitting, Mum?”

“Yes, dear. But who was in the Floo? You never said.” Molly turned away for a moment, distracting Arthur from his scrutiny.

“It was Harry, Mum.” Ginny's anxiety was evident as she drew Liz from the room.

Liz followed the young woman, her alarm growing as she noted the redhead's pallor. “What is it? Has there been an accident?”

When they reached the room in which Liz had changed earlier, Ginny followed, shutting the door behind her. “I didn't want to say in front of Mum and Dad, but a few days ago, Draco's father tried to kill his mother. Today he attempted suicide. Draco has asked you to meet him at St. Mungo's. His father's condition is critical, and he may not make it through the night.”

&*&*&

AN: I know that Sirius Black sports tattoos in the movies, but they are not canon. This is my story, and I liked the idea of the older Weasleys' fascination with Liz's tattoos, so I included it.


Salvation

Chapter 15

Draco had not yet been permitted to see his father. On his arrival, he was instructed by Harry to wait in the family area outside the Muggle-style Intensive Care Unit. The MICU was built eight years ago, after the inception of the cross-disciplinary Healer/Physician programmes. The Healers in the unit were an elite group who not only apprenticed as Healers, but also received degrees in Muggle universities as Physicians. Draco did not know if he should feel comforted by the fact that his father was in the unit, or alarmed.

Draco jiggled his leg for a few moments before standing, starting a circuit of the room, trying to find anything to distract him. He touched the obligatory fake plants, ran his hand over a windowsill, then trod restlessly between the door and the chairs. Finally, he made his way out into the hall.

He paced in the hallway, past the two Aurors set to guard the unit, Potter and Finnegan. Draco caught Potter's uneasy gaze and held it for a moment before the dark-haired man's eyes skittered away. Draco completed his circuit, before returning to his seat beside Blaise, who had accompanied him and was now watching a wiggling Scorpius.

“Anything yet?” Zabini asked as Draco sat heavily in the chair beside the two. Draco merely sighed.

Scorpius, who was becoming restive with boredom, whined, “Daddy, can we go home? I'm bo-ored.”

“Not yet, little man. Daddy needs to stay here to see grandfather.” Draco picked up a magazine, an ancient, yellowed Witch Weekly from 2001. “Why don't you look at this for a while. When Auntie Liz arrives, maybe she can take you to get some toys.”

Scorpius flipped through the magazine for a moment then got up to retrieve another. Soon the floor was littered with relics of other family tragedies, years worth of paper distractions set before them.

Draco stood again, his pointless pacing a symptom of his unease. Tish used to tease him about it. He waited for the knife-like pain that thoughts of her usually brought, but only felt a distant sad longing. He wondered when that had happened. When had his frenzied grief had turned to acceptance?

He walked past the door of the unit again, noting the foreign smells of alcohol and plastic overlaying the more organic odours of the wizarding hospital. He paused before Potter, giving voice to an accusation he had not acknowledged before his circuit. “Why was he allowed contact with my mother? Have the rules of Azkaban changed that much since I left?”

Potter winced, and nodded at Finnegan. He took Draco's arm and drew him away. “I'm not at liberty to discuss that, but the matter is being investigated.”

Draco snorted. “Like they've investigated every irregularity at that prison.”

“All I can say is that the incident is being looked into.” Harry's voice cracked. “I know what you're thinking...”

“Not bloody likely,” Draco retorted. “My father may be a cold bastard, but he loves my mother. The only time he ever raised a hand to her was when she endangered us.”

Draco felt his jaws clench with the effort he made to restrain himself from shaking the git. “Jesus, Potter, you know something, at least tell me why he did it. Give me a reason not to hate him.”

“I-I....” the Auror stammered, and walked them further down the corridor, out of Finnegan's earshot. “This is between us, okay?”

Potter waited for Draco's short nod of assent before he said, “She handed him divorce papers. The guards on duty said they fought before she did it, and then he said he wished he had beaten her more than once. She's suing him on grounds of cruelty.”

“So, she engineered witnesses,” Draco replied, sneering at Harry's attempt to refute his statement. “I know my mother, Potter. She may be a mad bitch, but she's a mad bitch who does nothing without a purpose. ”

“I'm sorry, Draco,” Harry offered, clearly unable to voice his dismay adequately.

“Such is the life of a Malfoy,” Draco shrugged. “Thanks, Potter.”

“Draco...” Harry began, but the younger Malfoy stalked away, unable to bear the pitying look in the other man's eyes.

When he returned to the family room, Ian was waiting for him, still in his cassock from his afternoon duties. He opened his arms and Draco allowed the priest to crush him in a hug. “My boy, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to watch Scorpius?”

“If you could.” Draco broke away from the embrace, embarrassed by the Muggle openness of his friend's affection. “Would you please offer some prayers to the Blessed Mother and St. Jude, also? St. Mungo's doesn't have a chapel.”

The priest frowned then nodded. “I'd be glad to. Have you seen the doctor yet?”

“He's a convict, Ian,” Draco’s voice grated over the words. “I doubt, very much, that he even has one that cares enough to let me know anything.”

A small cough and pointed look from Ian alerted him to the presence of a new person in the room. Draco turned slowly, only to spy the nearly identical twin of Parvati Patil. She was in the green scrubs of a Muggle physician, with the accoutrements of that profession hanging out of her pockets and about her neck. She held a small clipboard and was nervously straightening the white coat that covered her to her knees. Draco noted that her dark hair was pulled back in a tidy, thick braid. She smiled professionally as she greeted each in the room with a nod.

She extended her hand, motioning Draco to take a seat. Blaise excused himself and took Scorpius from the room, saying, “I'm going to take him to visit Pansy, if you don't mind?”

Draco nodded absently as he took a seat, hoping vaguely that the visit would be good for his old girlfriend. He joined the Healer, already seated on one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“I don't know if you remember me from school, but I'm Padma Patil, I was in Ravenclaw. My sister was in Gryffindor.” She looked at Draco, a quirk of her brow conveying that she knew more of his history with her sister than she was letting on. Draco looked away, forcibly reminded that his thoughtless actions had long-lasting consequences. She leaned in, speaking softly, so Ian could not hear her words. “I am not my sister, Malfoy. Your father is in sympathetic hands.”

“Thank you,” he replied, suddenly feeling small and mean-spirited with his blanket judgement of her.

She swept her sherry-coloured eyes up to his face, all business-like now. “Your father has had a small stroke from the blood-loss of his suicide attempt. That is why he's in this unit, rather than a more traditional Healing atmosphere. We are better equipped to deal with these types of problems. He's been stabilized and given both blood transfusions and Blood Replenishing Potion. We have him on oxygen and intravenous fluids. He has not awakened yet, but as far as we can tell, he's not comatose.”

“Can I see him?” Draco asked, panic knifing through him. His breath was coming quickly in short gasps. He had so much he needed to say to his father. He realised that he had never told him how much he valued his love and protection. He had never said how important Lucius' pride had been to him, even now. Draco rubbed his jaw's stubble, wishing inanely that he had shaved this morning. Lucius would expect him to be well groomed for a visit with him.

Patil placed a cool hand on his arm. “I'll see what I can do, but as bad as he looks, you mustn't upset him. If I see that your presence is causing his vital signs to fluctuate, you will be removed from the room and not allowed back. It's important that he remain stress-free for his recovery. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Draco replied as the Healer stood. She swept from the room without a backwards glance.

&*&*&

Liz and Ginny arrived through the Floo at St. Mungo's reception area. Liz had not gotten over her fit of sneezing as they stepped out of the way of the next arrivals. A woman, dressed all in green, with a Healer's wand-insignia on her pocket, grabbed Liz's arm and began escorting her to a room. “Now, what seems to be the matter, Madam? Have you ever had Dragon Pox or been exposed to Doxy droppings lately?”

“No, no, no...” Ginny rushed to the room as Liz gave one final sneeze. We're here to see Lucius Malfoy. I was told he's located in the MICU.”

“But the sneezing… and the pallor...” the Healer glanced quizzically at Liz. “Are you sure you haven't been exposed to something?”

“No, I'm just allergic to Floo powder.” Liz gave the Healer a wan smile as she exited the room.

“Allergic?” Liz heard the Healer exclaim from the room. “But that's a Muggle malady.”

She turned the corner and glanced back to see the Healer's head pop out the door of the exam room, her expression almost comically alarmed.

Liz and Ginny entered the hall of the MICU where Liz left Ginny to talk to Harry. She found Draco alone in the family room, looking out a window. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders uncharacteristically hunched. He broke her heart, looking as he had when Tish's final days came.

Liz touched his back with her open palm, and rubbed small circles on it, as she had to Toby when he was a child. Her friend turned to her, and buried his face in her shoulder. As she held him, she felt his hot, silent tears fall on her neck and her blouse. She smoothed his hair, speaking soft nonsense until the storm passed.

Finally, he looked up, his pale lashes spiky and wet, his eyes red-rimmed, and his nose swollen. “Merlin, I'm ugly when I cry.”

She gave in to the temptation to kiss him. He tasted salty and a little like burnt coffee as his tongue glided over hers. She knew, at that moment, that there had never been another man but him for her. She shivered with the revelation. She deepened the kiss, feeling the tide of his emotions run over her. He broke away, his grey eyes cast down. “I love you.”

“Drake...”

He stopped her words with another breathtaking kiss, then said, “You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

They stepped apart as a mediwitch entered the room. “Mr. Malfoy, you can see him now.”

&*&*&

All the sound-emitting gadgets and the tubes connected to them alarmed Draco. Lucius lay grey and pale on the white bed linens, his eyes closed in what looked like sleep. A tube ran into his mouth and seemed to be pulling fluids from his body. Another tube went into his nose. His arms were restrained with tape and straps, and a bag, filled with fluid dripped liquid down a hose into his arm. He looked like a nightmare image from a Muggle horror movie. Draco repressed a shudder as he sat in a chair by the bed.

He watched a machine tabulate numbers. Draco thought he recognised the arithmantic properties of the instrument's output, but would have to have time to understand the importance of them.

Lucius' hand twitched against the bed covers and Draco took it reluctantly. The mediwitch had assured him that Lucius was probably aware of all that went on around him. She had said speaking to him and touching him, at this point, would be the best thing Draco could do to aid him in his recovery.

Draco struggled for words to speak to the lifeless form on the bed. He could think of thousands of things to say, but felt too inadequate to utter them. He remembered a song he used to sing to Scorpius when he was a baby. He vaguely recalled hearing his father sing him the tune when he had a restless night as a child. Draco licked his lips nervously, and began to sing the tune softly to his father. Lucius' hand twitched in his son's palm as the younger man sang, and Draco looked up expectantly. To his disappointment, his father still slept.

&*&*&

Liz awoke from her fitful sleep, her neck painful from the awkward position in which she slept. Drake was standing over her, his face haggard. “You need to go home, Liz.”

She stood feeling cack-handed and awkward. Draco pulled her to him, resting his hand on the curve of her hip. “I want to stay with you tonight. Don't send me away.”

“All right,” he answered as she pulled him tightly to her. They settled back onto the chairs, the silence of the atmosphere weighted and motionless. Liz took Drake's hand in hers and they spoke softly of the day's events.

Draco smirked at her description of the older Weasley's and their reaction to her tattoos. Liz expressed her displeasure at Toby's efforts to unite them. Draco looked sorry, for a moment, that he had told her about it. Finally, all topics exhausted, they rested against each other, the conjoined chair arm digging into Liz's hip uncomfortably. “Drake, I don't want to go to the ball with Professor Longbottom. I'll feel like I'm cheating on you.”

“He's a decent sort, Liz.” Draco kissed her cheek. “You need to go, kid. The ball is Tuesday. He won't be able to find a date now.”

“But, still, there's that Miss Abbott...” she began.

“I'll be there with Blaise,” Draco interrupted. “He's asked me to help chaperone. Will that make you feel better?”

Liz blew her fringe with a gust from pouting lips. “Just grand. Now I will be cheating on you while you watch.”

“There will be no touching, Liz. No kissing, no fondling, no heated looks or even friendly smiles.” Draco's possessive demeanor made Liz laugh.

“It'll be hard to dance with him then.” Liz giggled.

“Good.” Draco leaned to kiss her.

Liz's laughing mouth could not quite form the proper shape. After a moment of his mock consternation, she whispered against his lips, “I think I love you, too.”

Thanks for reading. Please leave a review and let me know what you think.