The Death Eater

The letter arrived a week after Harry did, handed over by an unsmiling Snape, and bearing a generic seal. His hands shook as he opened it, recognising the familiar handwriting from dozens of notes over the last months despite the Malfoy seal no longer being in use. He wondered why, and cursed himself for thinking about it; he was trying hard not to think about him anymore. He unfolded the letter reluctantly, staring blankly at the words and the familiar script for long, long moments before finally forcing himself to read them.

Harry,

I hope you are well. I have been told nothing of you, so I can only imagine this means you are not suffering any ill effects, I’m certain if you were unwell, they would be swift to show me the blame.

I would apologise for the last months, Severus suggested it would be a good place to start; but I cannot. I feel no regret for having you, except that I could not make you want it as I did. I feel no regret for the child you have conceived (and I can only hope someone has told you by now that you are pregnant with our daughter) except that I will likely never meet her. I feel no regret for making love to you, except that you looked on it as rape. I was always taught never to give an apology I did not mean (and in consequence, to never apologise), and so I cannot in good conscience do so now. I would only ask your forgiveness that these events had to come at such a high cost to yourself.

You have probably given no thought as to my whereabouts except to be grateful that I am not there to bother you, so I shall not concern you with that except to offer that we thought it best for you to not have to deal with me. I have been placed in a safe house away from you, and you will not have to see me again unless or until I am tried for my actions as a Death Eater. Severus promises me that, due to my defecting and rescuing you, and the fact that I committed no crime as a Death Eater (except rape, which is forgiven by all accounts); I will not be brought to trial or punished. I am rather reluctant to believe him.

I hope you and the baby are well. I miss you.

Draco.

Harry folded the letter carefully and tucked it into the appropriate slot on the desk in his room. When he’d moved into Grimmauld Place, with half a dozen Order personnel in situ at all times to look after him, Sirius had brought him up here with all the excitement and enthusiasm of a small child. Apparently while he’d been gone they’d been redecorating, and one of the rooms had been transformed into a private room for Harry. It was done in Gryffindor colours, with Cannons posters clashing against one wall; there was a bed and a desk cluttering up most of the floor-space. He wasn’t returning to Hogwarts, they’d decided, not while he was pregnant at any rate, so he should be made as comfortable here as possible. He wondered if there was something wrong with him, to make him hate this room more than he had hated the one in the Manor.

He eyed the door warily, wishing he could lock it (we thought it best not to let it lock, just in case, Harry. We’re looking out for the best for you) and lay carefully on the bed. He flinched as the movement disturbed sore flesh, but the aches were fading quickly now. Soon they would be gone, as would all reminders of the attack. He was back in Dudley’s old cast-offs, wrapped in three layers in some places; ostensibly to ward off the chill. The collar was gone, as were the plugs Draco had forced him to wear for most of his stay in the Manor. Aside from the strange new organs between his legs that still caused him the most pain but were thankfully healing up quickly, and the baby in his belly, they could almost pretend nothing had happened. He was even wearing his old glasses, although the lenses were just glass now, because whenever certain people saw him without they started to get red and angry or tearful. Besides, he looked vulnerable without them to people who were used to him being weak and blind without them on, and the last thing he wanted was to look vulnerable.

He closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. Molly Weasley, on one of the days where she had come and fussed over him and been generally overbearing, had told him he’d need lots of sleep for the baby, and would probably get tired easily. He was always tired, but that was more of a soul-deep weariness than and actual physical exhaustion, and he couldn’t sleep well. He kept expecting to wake up in the Manor with Draco sliding sweetly into him. He wasn’t sure what he hated the most – the easy conditioning or the fact that he always cried when he woke up expecting this and didn’t know if it was from relief or regret.

He turned over to face the door, curled in a defensive ball, and closed his eyes. Almost at once he was in his much more comfortable bed in the Manor, safe and warm. Wakka was preparing him a nice lunch that Draco would insist he ate (they didn’t mind now if he didn’t eat – nausea and recuperation and “he’s not feeling well poor lamb”, never mind “oh you’re so thin, Harry, too thin for someone in your condition!”), Tidus was preparing him a bath, nice and warm with lavender oils just in case, and Yuna was making sure Master Malfoy was alright, probably pampering him rotten. Draco would be there when they went to lunch, and would make Harry do some delicious, degrading sexual act (although anything was better than the Carrot Incident, and he’d learned quickly to stop complaining) and spend the time talking about things like their studies, or Quidditch, or their baby. Something interesting and engaging (if anyone actually spoke to him now, it was easy topics like the weather and if the food was good. They were too afraid to say anything that might upset him), and he’d find himself chattering away for the duration of the meal before remembering that he hated Malfoy and the other man was a disgusting, evil rapist.

He forced his eyes to open, forced himself to stop remembering - and, for Merlin’s sake, stop missing the bastard! – and tried one of the meditation techniques his counsellor had taught him to help him sleep. He didn’t want to get up and do something that might bring him into contact with one of the other people in the headquarters, and sleeping was just about the only excuse he had. Even though he had a study in here, all his study things were in the library, to encourage interaction. So far it had just encouraged him to not study (Draco would be disappointed). The techniques took a long while to work, and he went through several different ones before finally falling asleep, dreaming of warmth and safety and care.


Draco sat heavily on one of the chairs in his parlour, staring at the orange flames through which Severus had made his exit. He was the first person to come and speak to Draco since the day he’d come here a week ago. “we thought it best for you to not have to deal with me”, he remembered writing that to Harry. The reality, however had been much different.

*****

Draco arrived via Floo in Severus’ quarters at Hogwarts less than an hour after he and Harry had been married. He helped steady his partner and lead him to a seat, choosing to remain standing himself. Harry whimpered when he let go, so he dropped one hand carefully to his shoulder and left it there for reassurance. Severus was not present, but should arrive shortly – he had alarms on the Floo that would have warned him Draco had arrived.

True to prediction, Severus arrived a few minutes after they did, coming into the chambers by the door to the school. He looked highly relieved to see them both, and see them safe, and was in Draco’s personal space within moments. “Are you alright, Draco? Is Harry?”

“I am fine, Severus. Harry is... He will be fine as well. I take it you know what has gone on?” Severus nodded absently, his attention on the darker Wizard sitting on his chair. One of Harry’s hands had overlaid Draco’s on his shoulder, and the boy was staring into the middle distance blankly. He didn’t even appear to have noticed Severus’ arrival, and only reacted to his surroundings by tightening his hand when Draco’s loosened on his shoulder as though to lift away. Draco left it where it was.

“Yes, Lucius attacked you. Your Medi-Wizard told us he’s dead, and that you would be coming to us. I’ve been with Albus, we’re trying to decide what to do, but we cannot really decide that until we know exactly how both of you are.” His eyes narrowed in annoyance, although it appeared to be directed at the old man in the office above who was still trying to meddle even in things he had no control or knowledge of.

“How much did he tell you?” Draco asked, worry in his eyes. His hand tightened subtly on Harry’s shoulder in an unconscious gesture indicating his worry for Harry, not himself. Severus’ eyes caught the movement, but he made no mention of it.

“He told Albus everything. As for the rest, very little. Harry was grievously harmed, that we know, and he told us you killed Lucius. Nothing more.” Severus’ dark eyes were inquisitive, he wanted to know and, unlike the others, he sought his knowledge out of a genuine desire to be helpful. Draco rubbed his face tiredly before talking.

“He raped Harry. Repeatedly, viciously, and in between bouts he whipped him raw. By the time I arrived there was more of Harry’s blood on the walls and floor than there was in his body. And... Harry’s pregnant. By me, not him.” Draco’s eyes lifted to Severus in time to see the man slam a fist into the wall in fury. There was anger, a deep hatred in him against Lucius, but there was no surprise. He’d at least suspected Lucius’ motives for his attack.

“That is something to be grateful for, I suppose.” Severus finally grated out with difficulty. His fists were clenched into tight fists, despite the blood dripping from one knuckle. Dark bruises were already starting to form under the red patches of skin, and Draco wondered if he had actually managed to break something.

“That’s not everything. We went elsewhere before coming here. Severus... I married him.”

This time surprise was evident on Severus’ face as he looked at the other man, absorbing the truth in his words. He looked to be speechless in the face of the new information. Before they could say anything else, however, they were interrupted by Harry’s agonised screams. They both leapt into action, Severus summoning Madame Pomfrey as Draco pulled Harry’s struggling form into his arms and held him tightly to keep him calm. By the time the woman arrived, Harry’s screams had tapered off to broken sobs and he had relaxed against Draco’s body. Before he succumbed to the unconsciousness that was lurking at the edges of his vision, he whispered “he knows”. Draco clutched him closer as he paled.

Twenty minutes later, Harry had been firmly tucked into a bed in the Infirmary, with Madame Pomfrey guarding him closely and doing a highly accurate impression of a dragon with a clutch of eggs. She was clearly furious, and had yet to look at Draco. It hurt him somewhere viscerally that this woman, who, despite everything, had always been caring towards him, could believe he’d been the one to do this to Harry. He knew she thought it, it was obvious in every line of her body, in the way she spoke to Severus and the two Order members who were standing at either side of him but never him. By the time they left, the two members staying to watch over Harry, he was shaking with the hurt, with fury, with worry. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to; if only to go and barter for his and Harry’s protection.

He was lead to the Headmaster’s office and forced to hand over his wand, whereupon he was given a slip of paper to read and memorise, then lead through the Floo. The room they arrived at was clearly once the large parlour of a house, but was now doubling as a meeting place for the Order of the Phoenix. Every single member (except the two in the infirmary) seemed to be there, apparently waiting for him. They had all stood when he came in, favouring him with brief hostile glares before looking around him. It seemed to take a few minutes before they all realised that only the three of them had come through, that Harry wasn’t with them. Chaos broke out immediately, a few people even bursting into tears while the rest started shouting.

Draco settled into a chair indicated while Dumbledore tried to bring the crowd under control. It took several minutes before everyone was ready to sit quietly and listen, but finally the attention of the entire crowd was on Dumbledore and, unfortunately, himself.

“Harry is not with us right now, he is in the infirmary under Madame Pomfrey’s fine care. It is perhaps better for us to solve the issue of Mr Malfoy before bringing Harry into the situation.”

“Send him to Azkaban! He’s a Death Eater and a rapist, it’s more than he deserves!” Draco’s head whipped around at the shout, trying to identify the perpetrator, but it was impossible in the melee of people. Dumbledore just frowned at them.

“While an easy disposal of Draco may seem like the most preferable option to many of you, this is not one I am willing to consider. Draco has taken great personal risk in coming to us for help, and he was guaranteed that he would not be faced with retribution should he do so. Also, as it stands the Malfoy estate is under Draco’s control and is not being used to finance Voldemort’s cause; should Draco be sent to Azkaban a new Malfoy head would be appointed and Voldemort would likely once again benefit from the abundant finances that the Malfoy estate entails.”

Draco gripped his hands tightly, resentment welling up inside him. Was this all he was worth, not another soul spared from Voldemort, not another wand for their count against him, not even a child who’d been lead astray; just his money. Just the estate that he had been more than willing to sacrifice for Harry’s sake. He bit his lip painfully, then stood up.

“I can see that this is going to be some kind of Kangaroo Court to declare my guilt, and I want no part in it. You have Harry safely in your hands, and bringing him to you has put a price on my head bigger than the one on Dumbledore’s. It’s your sodding duty to protect me after that, or would you have liked me to leave him to be tortured and raped by my Father or some other Death Eater? Yes, I raped him. Yes, I got him pregnant. But I made the best of a bad situation and he didn’t suffer unduly in my care; any other Death Eater would have enjoyed torturing him for simply existing. Besides, whatever your duty to me, I’m more concerned about my duty to him. He is my husband, and more importantly he carries my child. You know well the dangers that sending me away would pose to him and the baby, they will need regular magical contact to stay healthy.” Draco bit his lip painfully as he finished speaking and sat down, his hands trembling in his lap. He was terrified, but he was afraid for Harry more than himself at this point. It was a feeling that was all too common where Harry was concerned.

“You married him? You bastard!” Once again he couldn’t identify the speaker, but he didn’t need to. Within seconds a bolt of vicious purple light was searing towards him, and it was only Severus’ quick wand-work that protected him. Severus was on the perpetrator in minutes.

“You call him a bastard, Fletcher! You, you who would attack an unarmed man who is in this house under the protection of Albus Dumbledore himself, and you attack him? Get OUT!” He was truly a horrifying image to behold, Draco thought; his hair was wild in his face, which was twisted up itself into a snarling, ferocious visage, spittle flying from the corner of his mouth. It was likely only his need to stay by Draco’s side and protect him that prevented him from physically attacking the other man. The man – Fletcher – sneered at Severus and spat at his feet.

“You would protect him, Snape, Death Eaters together. You’re probably in on it! It was you who fouled up the only rescue plan we had, remember!” If his duty to protect Draco had been all that was stopping him before, it had been forgotten now in the rage sweeping through Severus. Only Dumbledore’s swift action prevented Severus from attacking Fletcher; the older Wizard sending Fletcher out in disgrace and calming Severus with a few kind words. Draco settled back in his seat, the shaking in his hands worsening. His breathing was shorter now as well, and spots had started dancing in his eyes. He was a Slytherin, he was used to facing hostile crowds, but that somehow was not helping him now in his panic. These people would gladly see him dead, and his only protectors were a benevolent but unpredictable old man and a man whose nature and job stood against him.

“Come now, no more of this. Yes, Draco and Harry are married, and yes Harry is currently carrying Draco’s child. However,” Dumbledore paused and looked sternly at the others, “this is not what is important. Draco is correct; the important thing here is our duty to him. He has come to us and asked for our protection, and if we refuse him now, when he has brought us the one thing we ask of him, we become no better than Voldemort’s people ourselves.” Duly chastised, they all looked down or away and murmured quietly, but the hostile atmosphere lessened.

“He can’t stay here, Harry is coming here! I don’t care if they are married; he shouldn’t have to put up with that!” This time Draco did recognise the speaker, one of the Weasleys who had been a few years above them in school. One of the twins, by the looks of him. He wanted to be angry or upset, but these people truly cared about Harry, not the Boy Who Lived, as many of the Order did. He swallowed past a painful lump in his throat, he wanted to stay with Harry. He wanted to be there, to see him swell with their child. He wanted to look after him, to help him heal after what Lucius had done. He wanted to try and build a true marriage between them, a stable environment to bring their daughter into. If he was sent away he would have none of that, and he was frighteningly certain that these people would turn Harry from him, and he’d loose his husband and his daughter before he’d really even had them.

“Thank you, Fred. You are quite right; Harry must be brought here for safety, and having Draco here would just disturb him. However the baby will need his magical signature.”

“Well, that’s easily taken care of! When I was pregnant with the twins, I needed even more of Arthur than usual, but with the War... Well, Arthur spoke to some people and we had this little medallion made up. It holds a little of Arthur’s magical signature, so whenever I needed it I’d just pop it on the twins and let them absorb. It would work for the first few months, at least, and would allow Harry to go longer between sessions in the later months. Then we’d just need to set up a time once or twice a week for Harry and Draco to meet and do what needs doing. If we bring Draco here, Harry will have people around to make sure nothing got out of hand.” Molly Weasley sniffed a little and glared at Draco, before smiling at Dumbledore again. Draco ignored her the best he could, but the whole concept had set his stomach rolling in nausea. If they could reduce Harry’s dependency on him then they could effectively get rid of him.

“Splendid Molly! Simply splendid. Can I ask you two to arrange that for me, then, by the end of the week? Yes, splendid. Now, as for Draco, we’ll have to think of another safe-house to send him to.”

“Why can’t I stay here, with my husband?”

“Because, Draco, Harry has just suffered a brutal and awful experience at the hands of a man who looks far too much like you for comfort, after spending two months being raped by you yourself. Surely you did not expect we would allow that to continue?”

“There is a little thing called conjugal rights, Dumbledore.” Draco reminded him, sneering. No, he hadn’t expected them to allow the relationship to go on as it had, but he also hadn’t thought them cruel enough to separate him completely from his husband.

“Certainly, my boy! And should Harry choose to exercise them, we will not stand in his way!” Dumbledore replied, all twinkles and joviality again. Draco hated him intensely.

“In that case, I have a safe-house of my own. With your guarantee that I will not be targeted by you, and will have somewhere safe to retreat to in case Lucius has given Him the co-ordinates, I should be able to remain there. It was not designed to be easily found, but I did not want to take that risk. As for Harry, I want a weekly update on the condition of my husband and our child, else you will have to find some other way of getting my magical signature to the baby.” He issued his threats clearly and coldly, masking the little voice in his head that was insistent that the only reason Draco would ever refuse that was if he was dead. Family had always meant everything to him, despite his father’s betrayal (perhaps even more especially because of it), and he was already firmly attached to the baby.

Dumbledore frowned at him gravely, but eventually capitulated without saying anything against his requests. He nodded regally. “Very well. Severus will go with you now, and will return a week’s hence to give you the information and take the medallion for Harry. You will not be returning to the school while you are such a target, so Severus will also be bringing you any assignments. Provided, of course, that you wish to gain your NEWTs? I thought so, in that case Severus will bring you assignments each week and retrieve the ones you are left with, and you can sit the exams at the end of the year with the other students.”

And so, Draco found himself effectively locked in his own safe-house and dependent on Dumbledore’s graces for any scraps of information he could get about Harry. He hated this place, and he hated the silence. He hated that he didn’t have Harry with him.