A New Order of Wizards - COMPLETE

The characters belong to J.K.Rowling. I am only borrowing them for a while. No copyright transgressions are intended and no profit is made.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Updated 11-12-06

Thank you for the reviews, everyone. The story had to turn that corner for the characters before they could move forward. Heads up for the Draco fans. (As the chapter title may hint...) And I had a request from MollysSister for a picture of a torque. Try these.

http://www.inspiredgifts.co.uk/proddetail.asp?prod=j1017necklace

http://www.tokojewellery.com/product_detail.asp?product_id=119

Enjoy!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Chapter Twenty-Five - Draco


Hermione didn’t go in to Lucius, understanding that she was the cause of his grief. The elves, and occasionally Severus, looked in on him and gave her reports on her husband. Even Draco came by to see his father. Lucius wasn’t happy to see Draco who had fathered a tainted brat for their bloodline, too. What he couldn’t forgive in himself, he couldn’t forgive in his son. After trying, Draco stayed away until Hermione could tell him it was okay to visit again.


Lucius stayed in bed for several days of the second week, his mind swimming in grief; he couldn’t put together the loss of his thousand year old heritage with his own culpability – it was too painful to face just yet. He knew intellectually he had made the only decision possible – give up the contraceptive potion, move into the future, and let go of his ancient lineage. He certainly hadn’t foreseen that the reality of fathering a Halfblood child would hit him so hard. It was odd that somehow Hermione had seen the danger to him better than he had. She had known how her announcement would take him. Stupid of him, but he hadn’t known. He had thought he would be okay with a baby from her, he truly had. Lucius had started to like Hermione and he certainly liked their rapport in bed. Losing her company hurt, but he couldn’t talk to her just yet.


Each day Hermione waited anxiously to hear about Lucius and each day she was disappointed anew that he hadn’t asked for her. That second week dragged by with Hermione fretting and throwing up faithfully every morning. She often visited Ginny and got some relief discussing babies with her; now they had even more in common. Hermione also found out that Harry had done as she asked about the research, finding out Hermione was right about the multiple orgasms. He had tendered an abject apology one evening when Hermione had stayed for dinner, but Hermione was too worried about her husband to gloat much, beyond snickering briefly to herself, Poor Harry, if I ever wanted to get back at him for Lucius, I couldn’t have planned a better lifelong revenge. Ginny was too near her time to enjoy Harry’s remorse right now, but she was looking forward to a sex life full of multiple orgasms and gave Hermione full credit for it.


Days went by as Lucius came to terms with the death of his dynasty. He had been so supremely confident of defeating the edict some way and protecting his heritage that failure had never been a reality for him, even though he had intellectually decided that continuing to bash his head against the edict’s walls was useless and stupid. Somewhere in his heart, he hadn’t believed he could fail. His mind spun - a thousand years of Pureblood Malfoys and he had lost it. No, no - the Ministry of Magic had ended it. He had been the final hope for his line and he had failed. No, no - it was not his fault. He’d had no choice. His mind restlessly circled around and around trying to put all the pieces together so he could have peace.


Lucius slowly worked his way out of the worst of the miasma his guilt and final defeat had pitched him into, and he started apparating from his bedroom to his study working on Ministry financial schemes. He had resumed quiet dinners with Hermione, but otherwise avoided her and slept alone at night. Crookshanks had greeted his return to the study with pleasure, purring loudly, and keeping him company on his desk. The presence of the cat was soothing to Lucius as he spent hours working on his investments and estate accounts, keeping his mind occupied with small things so he wouldn’t have to think about the world outside his study door.


However, his was normally a strong, dominant personality and, as his guilt subsided, his reasoning returned and with it his fierce sense of self-preservation. Lucius had normally never been one to dwell long on guilt, preferring to either find a reason why his actions should be vindicated or blame someone else. The Ministry was therefore considered as a possible scapegoat. Unfortunately, he couldn’t strike back at the Ministry except by ruining his own financial reputation and that was too stupid to even consider; he would cripple his own financial empire in the process. He needed to find another way to accept his self-inflicted defeat and minimize his guilt, so he soothed himself with his previous decision – he didn’t have to be any kind of parent to the child. He could leave that to his captor, Hermione. In the meantime, the weight of his Pureblood ancestors’ scorn was dragging him down, so he had all the portraits of the ones who were vociferously vilifying him removed to a remote room in a far corner of the mansion. They could all rip his name to pieces with each other, but he didn’t have to listen.


Draco had heard from Snape that his father was up and resuming his financial work but was still closing himself off from everyone. Draco decided to try a little therapy of his own without consulting anyone. He always had access to his old home, so he apparated into the hallway outside the study door one afternoon. He had a surprise for his father. Draco quietly opened the door and drifted noiselessly into the room, closing the door behind him. Crookshanks saw Draco and sat up from his reclining position on the desk, calling a chirrupy kitty greeting.


Lucius looked around to see what had Crookshanks’ attention and saw his son standing in the middle of the rug holding a suspiciously moving blanket.


“Father,” Draco smiled serenely at his parent, “I want you to meet your new grandson, Lucius Apollo. We’re going to call him Apollo to avoid confusion. Come see, Father. He’s the most beautiful baby. Totally Malfoy in looks, of course. His mother’s black hair and brown eyes didn’t even get a look in.”


Lucius saw a tiny fist waving above the little blue-blanketed bundle Draco was carrying. He sat frozen, his heart clutched in panic. He looked up into Draco’s eyes in mute appeal to take the child away.


Draco came a step closer instead. “Father,” Draco said gently, “do you want me to toss my child away? Smother it? Expose it on the hillside like the Greeks did with imperfect children? I can’t do that. I won’t do it. My son is beautiful and I love him. I’m going to see he has everything I missed in my childhood, being crushed between your and mother’s enmity. Apollo is a Malfoy to his fingertips. A new kind of Malfoy, perhaps, but a Malfoy just the same.


Draco pressed on, “Father, do you think he’s an abomination? Will he never be able to call you Grandfather and have you read him stories of Merlin like you did for me when I was small? I was the heir and important to you because of it, but I thought maybe you loved me, too, a little. It’s not so hard to love this newest Malfoy, just try to remember if you ever loved me.” Draco rocked his infant in a slow side-to-side motion, crooning to him and smiling down into his baby son’s face.


Lucius was shocked at seeing his child as a father. It was unnerving to have the physical evidence of his son’s edict marriage making little cooing sounds in response to Draco’s fond murmurs. But Lucius’ heart cracked open at his son’s uncertainty that he had been loved.


He rose unsteadily to his feet. He couldn’t protect himself against his own son and the painful knowledge that he had been a less than perfect father himself. “I never realized you thought you weren’t loved, Draco. I know I’m not good at the words and those were bitter days, but I had imagined my attendance at all your Quidditch matches and protecting you every time you asked was telling you so.” Lucius took a step toward his son and grandson, but stopped. “I see now that I was incredibly stupid and insensitive to think a child could equate my actions with my feelings. For what it’s worth at this late date, I love you. I always have. I always will. You’re my son and heir, but you’re also a person I’m proud to have in my family.”


“Thank you, Father,” Draco knew he’d just been given a high compliment. “It’s not too late at all. Your words were perfect. I love you, too.” He smiled calmly at Lucius; fatherhood had made him look past his own insecurities. “Come see your grandson and namesake. He looks just like I did in my baby pictures.” Draco pulled the blue blanket away from his child’s face and gave Lucius his first glimpse of his newest heir.


Lucius sucked in his breath in amazement. It was Draco to the life, waving his little fist aimlessly. The baby looked at Lucius curiously, blowing a bubble at the stranger. Then he focused back on his father’s familiar face.


It was a total watershed for Lucius. His dynasty had always been the single most important thing in his life – except for his son. He had missed badly there and was devastated. Had he been so completely blind to his own child’s misery? What else wasn’t he seeing? His confidence in himself and his beliefs took a major hit as he gazed at his grandson. What else indeed? Little Lucius Apollo looked as purely Malfoy as Draco had. Where was the horrible difference in genes? The pollution? He realized it was one thing to think of an imaginary child as something to ignore, but entirely different to look at a living child with one’s own blood running through it and coldly contemplate abandonment. Lucius was deep in thought as he stared blindly at the baby.


Lucius had been indoctrinated from birth with the superiority of his lineage. Looking into his grandson’s face, for the first time he cautiously began to question for himself just what his lineage truly meant. He was superior to others because…because …he was smarter? Richer? He was…prettier? His family was more powerful? Were these why he was protecting his precious bloodline?


Intelligence obviously didn’t belong solely to Malfoys or even Purebloods. Just look at Hermione. Rich people abounded, not all were Purebloods. His looks were just ornamental if sometimes useful for getting what he wanted. His family was powerful because they had endured through the ages with some clever ancestors. Just how did the genes themselves make him superior? They did make him part of a longstanding family. That was important, of course, but people joined families all the time. None of the wives had originally been Malfoys, only Purebloods.


He had accused the Ministry of genocide to Hermione and it was genocide - the obliteration of all Purebloods. But it was the method of combining genes that was being erased, not people, and obviously not even the genes themselves. Sweet Goddess, the Malfoy genes were still there shining brightly in his grandson. His family line was important, but the family Purebloodline? What exactly made Purebloods special? Worse, what now made Lucius special? He needed to talk to Hermione. Lucius turned from Draco and looked for his cape and cane.


Draco saw that he had done what he had come to do. He wouldn’t ask his father to acknowledge his grandchild any more today. But he thought that now it might happen in the future. “Father, I have to take Apollo home. It’s past time for his nap and,” he said ruefully, “I think he needs a change of nappy.” I’ll bring him again if you wish it. You can let me know later.” Giving his father a last smile, Draco stepped back and apparated himself and his son away.
______________________________________________________________________

Another chapter to keep the plot moving. No complicated questions about genetics, please. Remember, it's magic. As always, your reviews are a delight for me.