A Dream For The Dead

A Dream For The Dead

Chapter 30

To Change That Part

It was surreal. Harry had discovered the information regarding Aurora’s name-change and thought it odd from the get-go. Ophelia Knox had only marginally more documented information in the Ministry of Magic. Her birth records indicated her blood status, but other than the legal name change, there was little more.

Records indicated that she did not attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but instead was sent to the Academie Sersdaigle in Southern France. It was a smaller and lesser known school similar to Beauxbatons, but less prestigious. She was a full five years Draco’s junior. Her schooling was cut short because of her parents’ deaths. She returned to England to tend to the estate she was left, but there was nothing. She was left with no home and no family.

Then, one day, she changed her name and, two years later she married Draco Malfoy.

Harry had patched most of the history together, with Hermione’s help, based off of Death certificates and Ministry forms. It was already unusual.

But Draco’s reaction to the news and information about his family’s traditional magic was even more unusual.

Why would Aurora have lied about her background? Why would she go so far as to change her name to escape it? Was she like Tom Riddle in her loathing for her own impure blood that she fashioned herself a new name using one of the oldest magical surnames and marrying a pureblood?

It didn’t make any sense.

That, and then there was the bit about the Malfoy estate magic. Harry didn’t understand could an ancient ritual could be so exclusive and specific hundreds of years later. Surely another Malfoy along the line had come across a problem with the magic and needed to change it? Surely it could be changed…

Couldn’t it?

Harry might have thought it was ridiculous to bar out descendents with less than pure blood, but that was not what mattered then. What mattered was Draco’s face. His eyes were wide and full of terror and hurt. Harry knew he was thinking of Scorpius.

Harry felt his chest tighten as he watched the blond shiver from the knowledge that his son was not considered truly his. Whether he understood it or not, Harry knew that the ancient pureblood families were bound into their magic. The Blacks were. So are the Malfoys. It is a part of them. The traditions of generations passed run through their veins.

Harry took a step forward and tried to force his entire demeanour to soften. He couldn’t take the sight of the fear in Draco’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to spring the information on him that way. He had meant… well, he wasn’t sure what he had meant. But not this.

“Draco, I’m sorry,” Harry found himself saying, reaching out to grasp the blond’s shoulder. “I didn’t know it was that…” That what? Important? Involved? Fucked?

Draco wavered slightly, one of the first real signs of weakness that Harry had truly witnessed in him since his youth. He brought a hand up and clutched Harry’s wrist before leaning slowly into him for support. Harry kept still, allowing himself to be the wall to lean on.

“He’s all I ever had, Potter,” Draco told him quietly. “He’s all I ever wanted.” He looked up into Harry’s eyes and Harry nearly gasped. The grey irises were rimmed with red and full of desperation. “I never wanted to marry Aurora… or anyone. I didn’t want… but I needed an heir. I thought I did everything…” He shook his head and Harry couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. “The only good thing that came from Aurora was Scorpius. I can’t lose him this way, Potter.” His anger seemed to slip away and Draco was left with only his pain. Harry gripped him tighter and cursed himself, again. “What am I supposed to tell him? Everything is supposed to be his… I can’t bear for him to lose everything I’ve built for him just because the magic doesn’t approve.” He spat the word ‘magic’ as though it was something vile and Harry started. He had never heard Draco speak ill of magic in any situation.

Purebloods lived by the magic. They did not condemn it.

Harry gripped Draco tightly by both shoulders and shook him once to bring him back to himself. He stared into the silver eyes and tried to urge his words through.

“Draco, listen to me,” Harry told him sternly. “No matter what the magic says, Scorpius is still your son. You love him and he loves you. That’s all that matters. He is no less of anything just because he’s a half-blood. He’s still the same little boy he always was. He will be fine and so will you.” Harry’s grip must have been painful on Draco’s shoulders but he said nothing. He merely stared into Harry’s eyes. “We’ll find a way to get around the tradition, yeah? Everything will be alright.”

Draco said nothing; he only stared into Harry’s eyes. His lips were parted and they held each other’s gaze for a long while. Then the world lurched and Draco tumbled into Harry’s arms. Harry held him close and held him tightly, afraid to let go because he might fall away. Draco did not complain.

They stood there, though Harry did not know how long, holding and being held.

+++++

Draco stood, dripping wet and naked, staring at himself in the full-length mirror of his bath. He stared first at his navel, watching the way his muscles stretched as he arched his back. The water streamed down him in little rivulets, settling in the dips and valleys of his body. The fine blond hairs that trailed down from his navel glistened in the low light.

Draco’s eyes travelled upward and paused on the silver web-work of scars that adorned the left side of his chest, along the collarbone. They had closed again and, he hoped, would stay that way. As he watched the water trickle down, following the lines of the scar as though they marked a path, he recalled Potter’s fingertips, tracing his handiwork, drawing a shiver from Draco’s core.

His eyes move still further upward until he met his own gaze in the glass. He did not look like himself. He hadn’t looked like himself in years.

Maybe that’s because I’m not sure who I am.

His white-blond locks dripped heavily down his face, partially obscuring his eyes. Droplets of water ran down his cheeks as though he had been crying. Maybe he had.

The body in the mirror was that of a strong man, well-built and lean. The muscles there were solid and sculpted, touched by adversity and forged through it. The eyes in the mirror, however, betrayed the truth. The eyes were that of a broken child, frightened and worn from pain.

The eyes of a lost soul.

Draco tore himself away from the mirror and picked up a towel to dry himself. He could have used a drying charm, he supposed, but he preferred the towel. His skin was still sensitive, though not terribly so. He wanted to force touch upon himself as much as possible to train his nerves back to normal.

Or perhaps that was only what he told himself.

No time to think on that. Potter is waiting.

Draco dressed and left his bath behind, stepping out into the study. Potter, who was scribbling down something no doubt illegible to anyone but him, looked up the moment he heard the door. His eyes fell on Draco’s still-wet hair and his lips fell slightly open. It was only a half-second before they were closed again and his face was professional, but it was still there.

Potter always looked at him. Always with those seeking eyes, those beckoning lips. Draco had seen the look a hundred times yet still yearned for it.

He would never get anything else of Potter. He would have to settle for his looks.

“I, er,” the Auror began awkwardly. “I think there’s a chance that,” he paused, measuring Draco with his eyes and weighing out the options. Draco padded gracefully over to him and sat down in his chair. His entire demeanour had changed. His body was lax but his eyes were blank and his face was flat. He was tired and anger required too much energy. “There’s a chance that Aurora –or Ophelia -might be involved in this whole thing.” So did surprise. Draco listened intently to him but his face betrayed nothing of his thoughts. Potter shifted. “There is no evidence she was actually abducted against her will and the fact that she has lied to you about nearly every detail of her past is rather telling.”

Draco looked away from him at this point and stared out the window. He waited and thought. Draco was empty of wretched feelings. He was quite prepared to laugh again. Potter had sapped all the pain and rage from him two days prior, when he had cradled Draco like a child. Neither of them would ever speak of that moment, he knew. Neither would mention it. The knowledge that it happened was enough.

Draco now felt only numbness and, as long as his emotions lingered in the negative, he would only ever feel numb.

“You don’t seem particularly bothered by my assessment,” Potter said eventually. Draco did not turn his attention back. He lifted one hand to his mouth and let his thumb play over his bottom lip.

“Should I be surprised, Potter?” he asked smoothly. “Should I be upset that you came to the logical conclusion? Should I linger in denial?” He finally turned back to the Auror, his eyes somewhat sharper though still a strange, flat grey. “I am no longer surprised by anything in this whole,” he made a vague gesture. “thing. Aurora, or whatever her name is, lied to me. She lied and betrayed my trust. She betrayed Scorpius. If she is involved, then she also put Scorpius and I in danger.” His face became hard and determined. Potter offered him a similar look in return. “If we find Aurora,” he paused, trying to remember the term Potter had used. “I’m going to divorce her. Vow or no Vow. She broke it first.”

Draco sat back in his chair and stared into the hearth. He wasn’t sure what he expected of Potter. He wasn’t sure if he thought Potter would scorn him and sneer for being too weak to handle the pressure, or for having deserved it. A Slytherin and a Death Eater cannot expect trust and truth in anything. Everything is underhanded. What he didn’t expect was what came.

“Good.” The word was spoken with so much assurance that Draco almost thought it hadn’t been a word at all, but a solid object planted before him.

He turned back to see Potter gazing at him with wide and almost brilliant eyes. There was a small but sure smile playing on his lips and he seemed genuinely happy. Draco was upset that he was forced, so soon, to retract his earlier comment. He clearly could still be surprised by something in this whole situation.

“Pardon me?” Draco said more than asked, his eyebrows uneven on his face because of his confusion. Potter’s smile grew into something of a grin.

“I said good,” he repeated. “I’m glad.” Draco stared at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of underhanded way of mocking him. Separation wasn’t supposed to be a happy event. It was the collapse of a marriage. Draco’s family had always considered it to be the ultimate sign of weakness. To give in when things got too rough. Draco didn’t necessarily believe that he was being cowardly, but he had been determined to stay with Aurora for Scorpius’ sake. He wanted his son to have a whole family.

“Why?” Draco asked before he could stop himself. Potter was smiling at him with something that could not be fondness. It couldn’t. Potter was not fond of Draco.

“I know why you stayed with her this long,” he admitted. Draco felt himself go cold but Potter was still smiling. “You were doing it for your son. You thought that it was better for you to be miserable in a whole, than be happy in a broken home. You wanted him to never have to choose between you.” Potter’s voice was soft and sad. His smile held a knowledge that Draco hadn’t expected. Potter’s experience with separation was far from good, but the smile did not waver. “But that’s not true. Scorpius is a bright boy. He can see you suffer even when you don’t want him to.” Potter turned to face him more fully. “It’s healthier for both of you to do this. He’ll be alright. He’ll understand, even if he doesn’t right away.” He paused and shifted his gaze down so that he was staring into Draco’s chest. “Al did. He understood that Ginny and I needed to part. He forgave us.” He sucked his lower lip in and Draco watched, mesmerized. “James didn’t. Not at first, anyway. He was so angry with us both. But he came around too, after a while. He forgave us, too. And Lily… well, she’s never known anything else. She was just a baby.” Potter looked as though he wanted to reach out and touch Draco. Draco wished he would. “You’ll both be alright, Draco.”

Draco’s throat was dry and he lifted his chin slightly, pulling his body further from Potter in an unconscious gesture. He didn’t like to think that Scorpius had known all along, that he could see Draco suffer and wonder why. He didn’t like to think that Scorpius was suffering because of him. He never meant that.

Not ever.

But then, perhaps Scorpius wasn’t the only reason driving Draco to stay with Aurora, even through her overbearing moments, even through her lies and treachery.

“What if that isn’t all, Potter?” Draco rasped. “What if I stayed because…”

Potter watched him, his head tilted slightly as he tried to reason through Draco’s unspoken words. His eyes widened briefly and his smile turned surprised.

“You were afraid of being alone?” He said what Draco never could say. At least with Aurora, Draco always knew he had someone, love or no love. At least then he could grasp his marriage like a lifeline in a storm, if anyone argued that no one would have him. But Draco had quickly realized that that lifeline was actually an anchor. “Why would you be afraid of that?” Potter put on a face. “Draco Malfoy is insecure? I’m shocked.”

“Sod off,” Draco snapped, pulling further away, as though trying to build a wall between them. Potter frowned and shook his head.

“You could have absolutely anyone you want, Draco,” Potter told him seriously. “Let the news get out that you’re unattached and there will be people lining up down Diagon Alley to have a go at you. I can’t believe you would worry about being alone.” He laughed oddly. He seemed somewhat amused but there was something else undercutting the sound.

Jealousy?

“Have a go at me with their wands or fists, perhaps,” Draco whispered. “Not many people would actually line up to court a former-Death Eater. What possible attractive qualities might I have other than my Gringotts account?”

Potter seemed somewhat taken aback by the candid nature of Draco’s self-deprecating comments. Draco supposed that Potter still believed, deep down, that he was still the boy from Madam Malkin’s.

“Fishing for a complement, Malfoy?” he asked with a hint of a challenge. Draco actually chuckled once. He shook his head.

“An honest opinion,” he shrugged. “Why should anyone want me?” Potter eyed him and then laughed and shook his head.

“No, this is a ruse,” the Auror replied. He continued to eye Draco suspiciously. “You know you’re gorgeous, Malfoy. You’re the League’s heartthrob poster-boy. Witches and Wizards alike are drooling over your picture from here to Galway. Add to that the fact that you’re actually clever, if not snarky and your devotion to your son…” Potter carded his fingers through his hair and glanced around the room, apparently unable to meet Draco’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find a replacement wife in no time.”

Draco felt a smirk pull at his lips as he watched Potter. Had he really just called Draco gorgeous?

The blond leaned forward, taking on a predatory air as he shifted the balance of power between himself and Potter. He ran his tongue slowly along his bottom lip.

“What if I don’t want a wife?” he asked, his voice like silk. Potter started when he realized that Draco had leaned in closer. He turned and swallowed hard. Draco’s eyes followed the little bob of his Adam’s apple. “What if I don’t want a witch?”

Potter’s eyes fell to Draco’s lips as he tried to find an answer.

“Er, well… wizard, then,” he said breathlessly. “You… you fancy…?”

Draco’s smirk was back full-force and he felt better, warmer.

“Cock?” Draco finished for him. Potter blushed like a schoolboy and cleared his throat. “I thought you were more astute than that.”

“Er, well,” he began lamely. “But… you married a woman?” He winced at his own words and Draco wondered why. What was Potter hiding from him?

“Yes, they help with the heir business,” Draco explained. Potter seemed to be having trouble breathing.

“But you’re a pureblood!” The Auror nearly squeaked the words. Draco fought a hard battle to refrain from laughing.

“And that means am barred from being attracted to blokes?” Draco shifted and shook his head. “Love is love, Potter. You argue for mixed-blood marriages, but would deny homosexual relationships?” Draco tutted. “Tsk, tsk, Potter. Your Gryffindor nobility has failed you.” Draco’s expression then shifted slightly. “But as I said, I’m not really that popular and would hardly be more so for my choice of partner.” He offered a veiled smile. “That’s why I keep it quiet.”

Potter gaped like a fish for a few moments before finding his indignation.

“No, I mean,” he stammered. “You shouldn’t have to… keep it quiet, I mean.” He shifted. “You’re allowed to… love whoever you want. I, er…” Potter trailed off and flushed a darker red.

“Thank you for your permission,” Draco answered flatly. Potter winced and shut his eyes, apparently berating himself mentally for something. Draco’s smirk turned wolfish and he leaned in further. “Tell me something,” he hissed smoothly. Potter’s skin prickled before Draco’s eyes. “Do you drool over my pictures?”

Green eyes snapped open and he gasped. He didn’t try to talk this time but his cheeks burned. Potter’s lips were slightly parted and he swayed slightly, leaning slowly closer to Draco. The blond did nothing but waited. Then the world shifted again, shaking the ground and Draco jerked sideways.

He glanced up at the timepiece on the wall, rather unintentionally, and then cursed.

“I have to go,” he said suddenly, getting to his feet. Potter seemed somewhat shaken and looked up dazedly at him.

“Why?” he asked, rather than the more obvious question of ‘where’. Draco smirked.

“Match against the Harpies,” he explained, gathering his Quidditch bag from the corner. “I’m to face your former wife’s team today. Do you remember my mentioning that once or twice?”

Potter shook himself aware and got to his feet.

“Ginny…” he murmured oddly as he glanced around the room. Draco frowned.

“Fret not,” he sneered. “I’ll try to be gentle when I wipe the pitch with their arses.”

Potter actually smirked at him.

“No, don’t,” he said. Draco turned sharply and raised his brows. “They won’t play nice.”

Draco pursed his lips a moment before nodding and stepping toward the hearth.

“You can stay here, if you like,” Draco informed him, gesturing to the room. “Inky will bring you dinner, I’m sure.”

“I’m coming to the match,” Potter informed him. Draco froze and turned swiftly back, standing in Potter’s way so that he could not reach the hearth but to move through Draco.

“Do you have a ticket?” Draco asked him smoothly. Potter frowned.

“No.”

“Do you have a media pass?” he inquired further. Potter rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“Then it seems you aren’t coming,” Draco concluded smugly. Potter glared at him.

“Just let me in with you,” Potter practically ordered him. Draco tilted his head.

“No,” he informed him. Potter took a deep breath.

“Draco,” he said as though it was an argument in itself. He used the same tone that Lucius used to use when Draco was ten and was refusing to behave at a dinner party. “I need to be there to protect you. The match is too open. There are thousands of people and its possible that something else could be tampered with to take you out. The balls, perhaps, or even the referee could be involved.” Potter spoke with full confidence in his words. Draco frowned. “I need to be on hand in the event that something goes wrong.”

Draco grimaced and racked his brain to find a reason that Potter did not need to come. He needed to win this match and could not afford anything to go wrong.

“Fine,” he shot harshly, glaring at Potter. “You can sit with the Healers in their tent on the ground. But stay hidden.”

Potter frowned at him.

“Why?” he asked. “Afraid I’ll draw attention away from you?”

Draco clenched his jaw and glared at him.

“No,” he snarled. “I’m afraid you’ll draw my attention away from the Snitch.” He turned to the hearth without waiting for Potter to respond.

He’s so bloody distracting.

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A/N: *blinkblink* I'm posting this while at SCHOOL. *gasps at the scandal* Well... to be fair, there isn't anything really... *ahem* unsafe about this chapter, which is a pity. All the more scandalous if there were, but anyway. Quidditch next! I have such fun writing matches :D I SO wish it were a real sport.

*sigh* anyway, LOVE to everyone! A few confessions in this chapter, excitement in the next and then *gasp* WHO KNOWS? *evil smirk* I do, lol. XD

Reviews = love and PRONZ. ^_^