The Slytherin Redemption: Now Complete

These chapters have been beta'ed by Drusilla of Perfect Imagination.


Salvation

Chapter 20

Lucius was reflecting on his day when Draco entered the room. He brought with him the Muggle, his grandson, and a new boy - no doubt the Muggle's spawn. The older boy hung back behind Draco and the elder Malfoy could not yet see him clearly. Lucius liked the situation in which his son was embroiled even less. He inclined his head with the proper amount of decorum to his family and merely let his eyes flick over the Muggle and her get.

“Happy Yule, father.” Draco leaned in and kissed Lucius's cheek; he had not done so since he was a child. The Muggle stepped forward with his grandson, hoisting the boy so that he might do the same. Draco brought the new boy to the fore. “Father, this is Liz's son.”

“Lestrange.” A jolt of recognition went through Lucius, nearly propelling him physically in its strength. He sought the eyes of the woman as he whispered in horror, “You.”

“Yes, sir, Liz Cowell; you rescued me from Drake's uncle.” The woman's unflinching aplomb impressed Lucius, no matter how reluctantly he wanted to admit it. “I thought you knew, or I wouldn't have sprung Toby on you like this.”

Lucius laughed. “Toby. Tobias? Sah-nape”

“The Dark Man's middle name,” Liz supplied. “Yes, he was there when I was in labour. I named Toby in his honour.”

“Boy, come.” Lucius gestured imperiously for the boy to come forward. “You're... magic?”

The boy looked at his mother in confusion and then Draco, before his eyes darted back to Lucius. The elder Malfoy snorted impatiently. “I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand,” Toby said shakily.

“You... are a-a...Bah! Wizard?” The boy answered with a swift nod. Lucius sneered. “Half-blood. Gryffindor, no doubt.”

“No sir, I am in Slytherin.” The boy’s look of pride at the proclamation made Lucius smile.

Lucius grasped the boy's chin with his good hand, turning his face to examine it. “I see... great things in you, boy. Like your mother. Mind's strong for a Muggle.”

The boy flushed, anger and pride warring in his expression. “Thank you, sir, I think.”

“Draco, leave,” Lucius commanded, his gaze resting on the woman... no, Liz. “You stay. All else... Leave.”

To the woman's credit, she smiled to cover any discomfort or anger she might have been experiencing at that moment. The gesture reminded Lucius of the cool command that he had so admired in Narcissa in their youth. Draco objected, “Father, I don't think that would be a very good idea.”

“Afraid for me? Against this Muggle?” He made his next word a caress. “Impressive.”

“It's all right, Drake,” Liz said as she sat on the only available chair, gracefully arranging herself in a regal pose, her brown eyes never breaking contact with Lucius's grey ones. After the others left, startling Lucius, for a moment, with her common vowels, she said into the quiet that stretched between them, “I would like to thank you for what you did. I never got the chance.”

“You fought me that night,” the elder Malfoy stated; not really quite sure if the statement was praise or accusation. “I have s-scabs. No. Dammit.”

“Scars, Mr. Malfoy,” Liz supplied, a slight smile gracing her face. “And not from me. My rapist gave them to you.”

Lucius was unaccountably saddened by her calm acceptance of her past. More facetiously than he intended, he asked, “What do you want with Draco? Not wealth. Power, maybe?”

“I know you will find it hard to believe, Mr. Malfoy, but I do love your son just for who he is.” Lucius scoffed, letting breath hiss out of his nose in a long susurrus. He schooled his features to bland disbelief.

“You're Muggle. Not to be trusted.” Lucius finally said. “Sah-nape's father... like you. Poor, grasping.”

He was gratified to get a reaction, even if it was just a slight colouring of her neck. She lowered her eyes, and then looked into his, the tears clearly present as she said, “And my granddad was like you. My father was weak-willed when it came right down to actually marrying beneath him. He was rich and posh, just like Draco was. His father didn't like my Mum, so my father left me a bastard. Is that what you would want, a weak-willed boy?”

Lucius laughed. “You are... tres jolie angry. I... somewhat… approve, but do not hurt him, stay well... He lost one... Muggle. Damn my brain... I will kill for him.”

The woman stood in a smooth motion, leaning over his bed. “That makes two of us, you old fraud.”

“I am not old,” Lucius said in mock outrage. “Fetch my son. I want to know when... mmma... Fuck it all. Get him, you bloody savage.””

&*&*&

Draco came out of the conference with his father shaking his head. Liz, who had been watching the boys distractedly, beamed at him as he approached. “I'm glad to see that you survived.”

“Barely.” Draco kissed her and noted with a degree of amusement the avid and disgusted way Toby followed his movement. The boy turned away as Draco sat. “He wants us to handfast at the very least before he goes back to prison. He was angry that I slept with Tish without the benefit of a wizarding ceremony. He told me off, and then said he wants to make sure I have a legitimate heir this time.”

“Ooh, I'm going to have an heir? Who would have ever thought?” Liz gushed in affected awe, and then became more serious as she asked, “So, when is he going back?”

“Doctor Patil said he would probably be able to walk using a walker or cane in a fortnight.” Draco chafed Liz's hand between his. “Once he can do that, he'll be transferred back to the prison hospital.”

“I'm sorry, Drake. I wish things could be different for you.” Liz said, leaning against him. “And him. You know, I'm starting to like him.”

Draco shrugged. “My father never let me have any illusions about what would happen if our side lost. I've been prepared for this most of my life. Don't worry about me, Liz. And don't let your guard down with him. He is what he is.”

&*&*&

Draco escorted Liz and Toby back to their building. Scorpius with his typical unselfconsciousness ran into the flat screaming about having to pee. Liz leaned against the door frame, clasping his hand in hers. “You're sure you don't want to stay?”

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, loving the breathy sound of her voice. He opened them again, and moved closer. “Kid, I want nothing more than to scoop you up in my arms and take you to bed, but it wouldn't be right with Toby here.”

“At least come in for a quick--” She looked at him mischievously as she licked her lips in the way that made him want to take her right there. “--cuppa.”

“Cheeky minx.” Draco kissed her pouting lower lip, breathing in her slightly musky scent. “Move in with me. We'll handfast next week when my father moves to the new ward; that should satisfy everyone.”

“Not my mum. You know she'll want a church wedding.” Liz's pout increased. “Especially after that horrible proposal.”

“I'm never going to be forgiven for that, am I?” She moved her neck so Draco could nuzzle it; he complied, leaving a trail of sucking nips down to the neck of her jumper. He paused. “Ian too. I need to talk to him… about us.”

Liz huffed. “It's all going to get more complicated from here. Shite, why don't we just have a civil ceremony?”

“No. My father insists on a handfasting, and your mother will insist on a church wedding. No one will be satisfied with a quick elopement, and I want to see you in a big white dress with all the trimmings.” Draco became distracted when Liz ran her hand down his back, pulling him closer in the process.

She pushed her hands under his jumper, drawing her nails up his ribs. He squirmed and started giggling unmanfully. “Stop! I'm ticklish there!”

“You shouldn't let me know these things.” She tickled him in earnest and they both fell to the floor as Draco returned the favour.

A door opened down the hall. “Goddamn punks, stop yer noise! Some of us have to work tomorrow!”

The door slammed and Liz put her finger in front of her lips in a hushing motion. “Shh. Someone has to work. Come in Drake, just for a little while.”

Draco clambered to his feet and pulled her up. “All right, but no sex.”

“Sex is the only thing you think about now, isn't it?”

Draco smirked. “No, there's kissing and all sorts of foreplay we haven't gotten to yet.”

“Beast!” Liz shrieked, and ran into the kitchen where Toby sat with Scorpius, watching TV.

Draco ran in after her, only to slide to a stop on the tile floor upon seeing the disgusted look on the older boy's face. Toby said with a sneer. “I hope you don't act like that when you're married to my Mum. She doesn't let anyone run in the house.”

&*&*&

Liz met Ginny for lunch three days after Boxing Day in a little restaurant in Diagon Alley. She settled into the chair at a table across from a wizard who obviously worked for Eyelops Owl Emporium, if one could tell by the amount of feathers clinging to his robes. Liz knew she stood out in her Muggle clothes but really did not care. The Eyelops fellow gave her a condescending look, and Liz smirked back at him. Ginny rushed into the eatery a few moments later, shaking snow off her robes as the maitre de escorted her to their table. The redhead was squirming with unasked questions by the time they were served. Once the waiter had departed, Ginny erupted in a flurry of queries.

“So, tell me how he asked. Was it romantic? I always thought he would be dashing if he asked; was he?”

“It wasn't how I ever pictured being proposed to, if that's what you mean,” Liz said, as she stabbed a fork viciously into her salad. “You know how he can be. He lost his temper, and asked me to marry him.”

Liz explained the fiasco surrounding the proposal and Ginny giggled. “I suppose it's better than how Harry asked me.”

“How did he do it?” Liz could not imagine a worse proposal than the one she had had.

Ginny had the grace to blush. “We hadn't seen each other for weeks because he was in training, and I was playing for the Harpies. We had just finished an intense bout of homecoming sex and he was half asleep. He rolled over and said, 'I could stand doing this every day. You wanna get married sometime?' Then he started snoring. I thought he was just, you know, giving me a ‘that-was-a-great-shag’ line, but the next day he came home with a bouquet of pansies and a gorgeous ring.”

“Well, at least that last part was sweet.” Liz laughed. “That's not a story you can tell the kids when they get curious about how he asked. What will you say?”

“The same thing we told my parents. Just the last bit,” Ginny answered, her eyes dancing as she speared a bit of asparagus. After a moment she grew solemn. “So, I imagine you'll have met his father.”

“I have,” Liz said, her tone neutral. “Look, Ginny, I know you have a bad history with Mr. Malfoy, but I think you should know that it was him and Severus Snape who rescued me from my rapist. There were other women who he helped too.”

Ginny blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and shutting as if she had something to say, but could not put the thought into words. Liz looked around the restaurant, suddenly struck by how much of Drake's world she had come to accept in the last five years. The redhead shook her head. “Liz, that doesn't make sense. If he helped all those women, why wasn't it mentioned at his trial?”

“I suppose because we were a dirty little secret in your world,” Liz answered, her tone was even, but her guts clenched feeling tight and sore. “Drake and Hermione have been looking into the reasons, but so far they haven't come up with anything.”

The two women returned to their meals, letting the silence spin between them. Liz finally offered, “You know, he told me he almost approved of me and Drake, and he was quite charming in his posh, nasty way.”

“Just be careful with him, Liz. He's not a nice man.” Ginny grimaced. “I should know.”

Liz pulled a face. “That's what Drake told me, too.”

&*&*&

Ian Cavanaugh was sitting behind his battered desk, sorting through the bills for the quarter. Draco could tell from the frown on the man's face. Ian always claimed that there were never enough funds to stretch between the soup kitchen and the half-way house. Draco wished his father could help out. Lucius had a way of charming people out of their money. Draco suspected that if his father had not been a Malfoy, he would have made an excellent grifter.

Ian peered up over the recently acquired reading glasses that had been prescribed almost a year ago. The funds the church had set aside for the glasses had been used to repair a leaking toilet in the half-way house. The older man whipped the glasses off his face, secreting them in a pocket in his suit-coat. “I'm sorry, I didn't notice you. Come in, Draco.”

The priest stood, enveloping Draco in a warm, brotherly hug. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Draco was relieved to hear the happiness in Ian's tone. Tears formed in his eyes, unbidden and sudden. “I'm sorry, Ian. I should have... Tish.”

“Nonsense, Draco. I've been wondering for years when you were going to notice that Liz was a woman.” The priest settled Draco into a chair beside the fireplace, now connected to the Floo-network so that Draco could contact him with ease. Ian stared into the fire for a moment before adding, “Tish was my sister, and I know how adamant she was about wanting you to be free once she died. I was never in agreement with her on that. She was wrong not to marry you, but I'm sure she's happy that you've found Liz.”

Ian rang for the housekeeper who grumbled into the room. “Mrs. Pringle, could you bring tea for us, please?”

The elderly woman sniffed upon seeing Draco, but came back with a steaming pot and two cups. Draco busied himself pouring, remembering the times that he and Tish had tea in front of that very fireplace in the beginning. A cool draft whipped down the hall, ruffling Draco's hair almost affectionately. He shivered and turned to Ian, starting the thread of conversation they had left off with the last time. The two men settled into their usual discussion of politics and religion, all well between them.

&*&*&

Liz and Toby spent the next fortnight moving bits of their flat over to the Malfoy's. Toby was excited about finally getting a father, and talked incessantly about what role he expected Draco to fulfill. To the older wizard's credit, he listened respectfully, noting how many times the boy hugged him. Toby was never the most outwardly affectionate child, and Draco appreciated the importance this change in status had in the boy's mind. If he had not already loved the boy, he would have fallen hard with each happy smile or whispered confidence.

New Year's Day came and soon it would time for Toby to go back to school and Lucius back to prison. Draco and Liz were handfasted by a Ministry official on New Year's Eve thanks to the efforts of Ginny Potter, who knew someone that owed Harry a favour at the Ministry. Draco had never really appreciated how formidable a friend the former Weasley could be.

On an impulse, he invited both Harry and Ginny to witness the event, but both declined once they were informed that the ceremony would be conducted in the hospital so Lucius could attend. Liz's mother had declined also, saying that the two would not be married unless by a priest in a proper church.

So they ended up in the high security ward at St. Mungo's with Padma Patil and the Auror sent to guard Lucius as witnesses. Ian had volunteered, wanting to see how the wizarding ceremony differed from the pagan tradition, but was unavoidably detained by another plumbing crisis in the halfway house.

Draco felt miserable about the whole affair and promised himself that Liz would not begin married life without a honeymoon. Once they said their goodbyes to Lucius and packed Toby onto the Hogwarts Express two days later, Draco arranged an overnight Portkey to Venice. It took most of his savings, but he was able to arrange accommodations in a wizarding hotel in which the Malfoy name still carried some weight.

He was enthralled by her exclamations at delight over the sights he had seen many times before. The Malfoys, before the war, had owned a villa not far from the Piazza San Marco. Liz had grown quiet when Draco had pointed it out. That evening, as they prepared to dine, Liz asked, “Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you still had all that?”

She was sitting at the vanity brushing her hair, her dressing gown open at the throat, exposing the soft rise of her breasts to his gaze. He considered for a moment, giving the question the same weight she had. “No. I know what it would have been like. I would have followed in my father's footsteps and become an utter bastard. I was well on my way to that fate before the war.”

“D'you miss it, though?” Liz paused, her eyes searching for his in the mirror.

Draco sat beside her on the old-fashioned bench seat, and leaned his chin on her shoulder, looking at her eyes in the mirror. “Yeah, sometimes, but then I think, if I still had all those things, I never would have Scorpius and I would have never met you, Toby and Ian or your Mum. I would still hate Potter. And I would have never gotten to know my aunt. My life is much better without meaningless possessions.”

“It would be nice though, just once, to wear a diamond tiara and dress in silk knickers.” Liz smiled to ameliorate the longing in her tone. “Let's stay in. I want to do some real honeymoon things. And we haven't explored all that foreplay you talked about.”

“That's my girl.” Draco kissed her neck and then lower until she was breathless. They ordered in that evening.

Salvation

Chapter 21

DEATH EATER WEDS WOMAN HE RAPED

Rita Skeeter

The Malfoy clan has shown, once again, its amoral character as Draco Eugene Malfoy married Muggle rape-victim Elspeth Cowell in a ceremony attended by Lucius Malfoy, former right-hand to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Anonymous tipsters said the 'wedding' was a dismal affair in the High Security Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. The distressed bride wore black in honor of the shame she felt, and her tearful mother was barred from attending.

Lucius Malfoy, it should be noted, was moved to the Maximum Security Unit of Azkaban, after he attempted to his murder loving, and browbeaten wife, Narcissa Malfoy. Reports state that Madam Malfoy has filed for divorce from the Malfoy scion on grounds of abuse and violence. The elder Malfoy attempted suicide, in a cowardly try to put off his just punishment, and has suffered a well-deserved mental breakdown as a result.

Draco Malfoy, who served six years in Azkaban, for his part in the murder of Albus Dumbledore, (former Headmaster of Hogwarts, one-time High Mugwump, and founder of the Order of the Phoenix,) was rumoured to have Confunded none other than Harry Potter, self-proclaimed Savior of the Wizarding world, and obtaining a sensitive position in the Ministry of Magic's new Muggle Liaison Education Office, no doubt to perpetrate further crimes against the untold numbers of women he raped. He also spent time in a Muggle Blood-Cult's halfway house after a bout of drug addiction, says another anonymous source who treated him for that addiction during that time. The source, a respected Healer, says she was forced to administer aid to the former Death Eater on pain of torture and was later compelled, by blackmail, to sleep with the Death Eater, even while she was engaged to another.

Draco Malfoy has a son, Scorpius Francis Malfoy, by a Muggle social worker who died under extremely mysterious circumstances some five years ago.

The younger Malfoy, it is also said, employed the Imperius Curse to compel his new wife into reprising the role of rape victim. A role, it is said, that he forced on her once before during the Voldie-war. Elspeth Cowell's son, Tobias Reginald Cowell, a product of that brutal act, who is currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was reported to be beside himself during the ceremony, clutching at his mother's hands and begging the cursed woman not to marry her rapist. Docor Padma Patil, who is rumoured to have become cozy with the elder Malfoy since his sojourn at St. Mungo's witnessed the debacle.

It is odd, to this reporter, that the tragic Ms. Cowell was reported to have been escorted to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, just days before, on the arm of Professor Neville Longbottom, but was forced to leave in the company of Malfoy and fellow Slytherin and rumoured Death Eater, Professor Blaise Zabini. (See page 10 for details on Zabini's personal struggles to rid himself of his mad wife, Pansy Parkinson.) One wonders if the new Headmaster, Leonis Lepidus, is up to handling the intrigues of the evil men he has employed...

&*&*&

Draco crumpled the Daily Prophet between his fists, his magic crackling across his skin as he attempted to control his fury. Liz, cooking breakfast for their little family, shot him a questioning look. “Bad news?”

Draco, unable to formulate an answer that would not give away the vile contents of the article, practiced the breathing exercises that Severus had taught him as a small boy. Liz put the frying pan off the electric ring, and padded over to him in her bare feet. She sat next to him in the chair at the table that had become 'her' chair. Draco forced a smile. “Kid, we must get Scorpius to school, and open the office today. I'll let you read it later.”

Liz leaned into him, kissing him thoroughly before she said, “Okay, but it must be bad if you're so angry. Your face is all bunched up and red.”

“It's nothing, kid.” He answered as evenly as he could. When she drew a breath to say more he snapped. “Liz, just leave off. I told you, it's nothing.”

He tucked the paper under his arm and stalked out of the kitchen, calling loudly for Scorpius, who still lay abed.

&*&*&

Lucius was in the prison infirmary eating his breakfast of runny gruel and powdered eggs when he received a visit from a very angry Doctor Mona Lisa. Lucius paused in his activity long enough to give her a look of mild interest. He patted his mouth delicately with the paper serviette provided him and cocked an eyebrow in question. She stood, arms akimbo for a moment, scowling at him in such a pretty way. “Don't act like you don't know what's going on, Mr. Malfoy. I know you've read the article”

Lucius, smirked, looking purposefully around the room as if he were missing the fact that he had no morning paper. The doctor mumbled, “Of course.”

She then proceeded to prod and poke him with her alarming Muggle instruments, before adding, “You need to speak, otherwise you'll lose the ability.”

“I already am lost.” Lucius said, then shook his head. “Have... lost.”

She continued to look at his body, placing cool professional hands on his person. A thing he enjoyed immensely to his chagrin. “Your aphasia is increasing. You were speaking more clearly at St. Mungo's. If you don't follow my orders, I will not return. Do you want that?”

Lucius caressed her hand, proceeding up to her elbow wanting to rattle her, make her notice he was a man. “Bitch.”

He heard the word and knew it was wrong even before she recoiled, her eyes flashing in indignation. He assembled his face in an approximation of contrition before saying, “Not what I wanted... to say. Sorry.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “You mustn't touch me, Mr. Malfoy. It crosses professional boundaries.”

“Bah! Boundaries... I've crossed so many.” Lucius spat. “One more no pain”

He touched her hand again, letting his thumb revel in the plumpness of her cinnamon-coloured flesh. It had been so long since he had been able to engage in even a mild flirtation. He loved way her pulse raced as he picked up her hand a placed a soft kiss on the palm. She hissed, “Lucius.”

He could not tell whether she was issuing was a warning or a request until she jerked the object of his ardour from his grasp. Mona Lisa retreated to the corner of the curtained off area, drawing her wand from her one pocket as she fumbled in the other. Lucius reacted by throwing his bowl of gruel at her head. The Merlin-be-damned woman was no better than Narcissa with her moods, threats and drawn wands. The bowl landed with a thud against the far wall. “Now I mean it. Bitch!”

Lucius had forgotten, for the moment, that he was no longer free to give into his fits of pique. A burly trustee rounded the curtain and placed him in a body bind, tweaking the spell so that it caused cramping pain. The man, noted for his sadistic tortures of the other inmates, cast a wordless Crucio, smiling as Lucius bit the side of his cheek. Admittedly the Dark Lord's curses had been much worse in intensity, but being bound increased the agony. He felt himself begin to shake involuntarily and and embarrassing warmth spread across his crotch. Then, just a s suddenly, the body bind and the curse ended. Lucius recoiled, curling into a foetal position to both hide his shame and find relief. He spat the blood that had pooled in his mouth in a coughing splutter. He heard moaning apologies and realised the words came from him.

Then, familiar cool hands were on his face, neck and body, and drugs and potions were being administered to calm his shattered nerves. Lucius slept.

&*&*&

Toby's day had gone to crap the minute the owls had arrived. The Great Hall buzzed with the whispered conversations and hateful looks cast his way. At first, not having taken a look at the Daily Prophet, he shrugged off the attention he received. He had gotten used to the rumours of the Gryffs since he had come back from Yule break. It was only when one of the Seventh Year Slytherin girls passed him the article with an apologetic smile, that he understood. Rose, sitting several seats from him, shoved her way past her the others, still clutching her copy of the offensive article. “Tobe, don't let them see you react. You know what the truth is.”

Toby, wanting to cry, sucked in the emotion, and fixed a haughty glare above the heads of the other tables. Through lips stiff with repressed anger, he said, “Thanks, Rose.”

She sat next to him. “Eat your breakfast. Well, what you can, and act normal.”

He moved the food around his plate with his fork, his stomach roiling at the prospect of actually putting food in his mouth and swallowing. Rose leaned in, whispering, “You don't look well, do you want me to get the One-Armed-Prof? I don't know where he is right now, but I could try to find him”

“Yeah, that'll look real normal, Rose. You running around screaming for the Prof.” He stood and walked resolutely out of the room, not really caring where he headed, or that he was about to skive off for the first time in his life.

&*&*&

Liz finished scanning the article, not knowing how to feel about the outrageous lies in it. She opened her mouth to reassure her husband when a phrase caught her eye. “Bloody hell, Drake, the old hag named our sons. We'll sue her.”

“Good luck with that, Liz. We'll have to go through Wizarding courts and right now, I don't think anyone will take the case.” Drake's tone was bitter as he looked out of the window of the office.

Liz noted that in years past, the first day the office opened after the holidays had been hectic, with interviews to catch up on, and frantic parents trying to keep their magical children from being discovered. Today had been dead, except for the Owl Post delivering Howlers and Poisoned Pen Letters addressed to her husband. More wearing was the outpouring of sympathy and offers of rescue that Liz was received. She was quite the cause celebre in Wizarding circles right now. She placed the paper in the rubbish bin and wrapped her arms around Drake's midriff from behind. “I know the way you think, Drake. Right now you're blaming yourself for the rubbish this woman wrote, thinking you should have stayed away from Toby and me.”

Her husband leaned his head against the glass. “You're right, and I should have. I suppose it's too late for that now. Our life will always be like this, Liz, whether we stay out of the public eye, or not. There will always be whispers about our pasts.”

“D'you think I care?” Liz made sure her voice was gentle and without reproach. She really wanted to see how deep her husband thought her commitment was.

Drake turned to her, his mouth hard and his eyes the saddest she had seen since Tish's death. “More's the pity, Liz, I know you don't. I love you for that.”

She kissed him, devouring his rage and pain, trying to ignite his passion. They may as well make use of the office if no one else would. Well into a long snogging session in which Liz had somehow been made to sprawl over the desk on her back, they heard a small bossy voice coming from the Floo. “Malfoy? I know you're there. I checked at your house all ready. I'm coming through.”

“Granger.” Drake breathed as he laid his head on Liz's chest. He looked at her with his stormy, passion-glazed eyes. “Stall her, while I get myself under control.”

Liz pulled her jumper down, and smoothed out the skirt that had been rucked up around her waist. She was patting her hair into place when she entered the main office. Hermione looked decidedly embarrassed as Liz greeted her. “It's so good to see you, Hermione. Can I get you some tea or coffee?”

“No thank you.” The brunette looked around the room, smiling as she said, “I should have guessed the office would be painted Slytherin green.”

“Drake never said.” Liz huffed. “I just thought he painted the room green because it's my favorite colour.”

“Oh, and congratulations on your marriage. Though, I suppose, with the Prophet article...” Hermione looked away. “I just want you to know, that not everyone believes what's published in that rag.”

“I should hope not, Granger.” Drake said, entering the room. Liz almost laughed. He had buttoned his robes wrong and one end was drooping while the other end was pulled up past his knee. She dared a glance and Hermione, whose eyes were dancing. Both women burst into gales of laughter. Her husband raised his eyebrow, expressing his irritation at their foolishness. “What?”

Hermione was the first to gain her voice. Looking pointedly at his robes, she said, “You look rather buttoned down today, Malfoy.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” He righted himself, then asked, “What do you want, Granger?”

Hermione's reply held just a hint of mirth. “I'm here to give you some very good news, Malfoy.”

Draco leaned against Liz's desk, his arms crossed. “And that would be?”

“Well, first off, I found the original interrogation records from after the war, and your father and mother did mention the fact that they had worked for the Order.” Hermione warmed to her subject. “I cross checked the document the Auror's Department gave me, and your father had been working for the Order since 1995, well before your he was arrested for the Ministry incident.”

“This helps, how?” Drake asked. “I already gave you that information.”

Hermione beamed at both of them. “Well, that's where my second point comes in. I've got the original Lettres of Intent that your father signed in the presence of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, showing that he switched allegiance on June 12, 1995. They were secreted behind a compartment in the frame of Phineus Nigellus' painting in 12 Grimmauld Place. It's really funny, I carried that painting with me during the war, and never noticed it.”

“Ha, ha. Very amusing, Granger. My parents have spent the last eleven years locked up in Azkaban because your sainted Dumbledore hid the papers that would help exonerate them.” Drake lurched forward, his fists clenched. “So, how did you come to find the secret compartment?”

“Phineas told me.” Hermione mumbled.

Drake slapped his palm against the desk. “What was that?”

“Drake,” Liz warned, as she stroked his back. “She is trying to help.'

Her husband spared her a heated stare, then pulled Liz's hand to his lips. “You're right kid. Sorry, Granger, I guess my Malfoy temperament is surfacing today. Now, why don't we discuss this over lunch. It might make my disposition better”

&*&*&

Narcissa read the article with relish, noting the fact that her blood-traitor son and her vicious husband had somehow decided that a Muggle would be an acceptable addition to the Malfoy line. She was glad she had decided to divorce herself from the situation, it was strengthening her position with the other incarcerated wives. So much sympathy had been displayed that she now had the choicest seat by the window, and the pick of the care-packages sent by various charity organisations. Poor little Narcissa, who had been half-throttled by her soon-to-be ex-husband, and betrayed by her weak son.

Her visits with the warden had become quite satisfying. She would have to make sure the man's wife was out of the way, before she could make her next bid, with him. She was aiming for total freedom, no matter who she had to service. Lucius could rot in Azkaban for all she cared.

Luckily she would be divorced from Lucius in a few days. The warden had used his influence to expedite the process, pleading that her life was in danger if she was still married to her former husband. She smiled, the sad one she used to cover her gloating. Her little whispered innuendoes to Rita Skeeter had paid off as well. It was only a matter of time before she had everything she wanted.

&*&*&

Toby found himself on the Astronomy Tower, his favorite place to get away from everything. He had been up there for hours, if he could tell by the slant of the sun. He sat slumped against the far battlement, his tears now only falling occasionally. He had really hoped that having Uncle Drake as a dad was going to solve all his problems. Instead, he had a whole new set. What that reporter woman had said about his mum was just crap. She hadn't cried and, yeah, Grandma had not come, but that was because she wanted Mum and Uncle Drake to be married in the church by Father Cavanaugh.

Toby knew that he looked nothing like Uncle Drake too, so he could not be his son like Scorpi was. Maybe Uncle Drake would not even want him to be his son after this. Toby felt the tears threaten again, so he cradled his head on his knees. Maybe he should just go to regular school and forget about being a wizard. Then his Mum and Uncle Drake would not even have to deal with the wizarding world at all. He wondered if he could sneak to the Owlery to get a message off like that.

He did not know how long he sat there, shivering and in misery until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “Mr. Cowell, you missed class today.”

Toby shrugged, trying not to let the tears start falling again. Trust Professor Zabini to be the one to find him. Toby knew The One Armed Prof was disappointed in him. “Sorry.”

“I did too.” Toby felt the Prof sit next to him as his cloak billowed into his face. “I was glad to hear about your Uncle Draco and your mother.”

“Thanks.” Toby managed. “Sir, you said you missed class today too, was it because of what that newspaper said?”

The Professor was quiet for so long that Toby thought he was angry about the question. He peered up at the man's face with a little trepidation. Professor Zabini's face was a blank mask, only the glittering of his brown eyes betrayed that he was not a statue. After a few more moments, the older wizard replied, “Yes.”

“Oh.” Toby's voice was small and soft, even to his ears. “I'm sorry, sir.”

The Professor's tone was bitter as he answered, “So am I.”

Thank you for reading. Please review and let me know what you think.

&&&

“I've decided to take the case, Malfoy, there will be no argument.” Hermione uttered the pronouncement as if there were anyone else that would take it. Draco sat back in the booth, glaring at her.

“You say that as if you were the only party involved in the matter.” Draco began, covering his elation at her willingness to help. “My father has his reason for not wanting the matter investigated.”

Liz curled her fingers around his hand. “Drake, let her talk.”

“You're correct. His original deal with the Order was made to protect you only.” the Know-It-All replied, as she fussed with the rim of her water bottle. “That deal, however, was no longer binding, once you were convicted of using an Unforgivable on Madam Rosemerta. It, in fact, was nullified. I think I can argue that your entire family was wrongfully convicted for war crimes. The acts, themselves, would be deemed necessary actions to preserve your family's cover as spies.”

Draco snorted. “Sure.”

“I'm serious. If your family had access to even moderately adequate counsel, you would have gotten off with a fine.” The bushy-haired brunette said. “Draco, I might even be able to get your possessions returned to you, along with reparations.”

It was that moment that an Owl found them, a Howler attached to its leg. Draco banished the missive with a flick of his wand, then addressed the owl. “Shove off, mate, if you know what's good for you.”

It gave a dismissive hoot and shook its wings haughtily then took off. Draco asked, “Could you do something about the Skeeter article too?'

The bossy Gryffindor smiled, an evil little smirk that Draco would have been proud to bear in his youth. “Most certainly. So, you'll let me proceed?”

“Yes,” Draco smirked back. “Most certainly.”