Star Crossed

From the moment he was born, Grigory was a constant presence by his side. His nanny when he was a baby, his playmate when he was a kid. Dearest Merlin, Grigory taught him everything he had wanted to know while growing up.

Sometimes he wondered what he had done to deserve such perfection.

“You ordered my love and devotion, Master,” Grigory said when he asked him, his impish smile widening as he rubbed his cheek against his naked thighs. He was twelve at the time, but had never felt such love before.

From what he had gathered through the years, he was Grigory's last Master and had, as a last resource, ordered him to wait for his rebirth to continue their life together when he died.


Smart, if he had to say so himself.

He was proud of himself.

He was sixteen when it happened.

Sixteen and in love with his immortal imp.

They had spent the whole summer together, enjoying each other and their solitude. Stephan was always alone, but he didn't actually mind. His parents were off with their Lord, away in a secret mission to clean out their world.

They were heroes.

“Maybe someday I'll be a hero like them too,” Stephan used to think, running his hand absently through Grigory's dark hair. “And you'll be by my side, won't you?”

“Always, master, Grigory loves you,” the little boy grinned, his razor-sharp teeth glinting under the summer sun.

So happy, they were.

Which made going back to Hogwarts all the more difficult.

Each year he had to go back to that a cursed place to try and socialize with those imbeciles that called themselves elite, try and gain their trust while his stomach turned and his lips fought to curl in distaste.

Who cared if Malfoy ran the school as he pleased?


Who cared if the Dark Lord had his eyes on him? On that reject Snape?

He was Stephan Wilkes, for Merlin's sake. He was special.

If only Grigory could go to Hogwarts with him he would show them. He would show them all.

He was the Wilkes heir and he was the best.

No one would be able to go over him with Grigory by his side. Not even the Dark Lord himself!

But Dumbledore would kill Grigory if he saw him, or so his father warned him. Dumbledore knew him and what he had done the last time he was involved.

“The old man,” Grigory had said softly, curled by his side. “He was jealous I slept with his lover, the blond one. I know.”

And Stephan loathed the old wizard, because he had known Grigory even when Stephan hadn't been around.

Because he was a threat to their happiness.

“You will always love me, won't you?” he asked as September came and he was forced to abandon his little love.


The boy nodded enthusiastically, his eyes bright with tears.

“I will always love you, Master,” he whimpered, wrapping his thin arms tightly around Stephan's waist. “Please don't love anyone else! Love Grigory always!”

“I won't,” he assured, his eyes wet. “I promise I'll always love you.”

With a firm hand, his father forced him into the train while his mother held the little imp back. He knew some students whispered among each other about the Wilkes' little son, the one that should come to them to school but always staid behind.

He didn't care about their gossip, he still stared through the window until Grigory and his parents were out of sight, and his love remained in his mind through the year. As he counted the days from their next reunion.

-----

“Some say you've got a squib for a brother, Wilkes,” Black hissed, her eyes narrowed in disgust. “I wonder why your parents haven't done the world a favor and gotten rid of that waste of space.”

He continued to read, staring at the younger girl from the corner of his eye.

She was ugly, the only Black child that had not inherited their family's grace of talent.

“Bella,” a blond girl said gently. “Leave Wilkes alone.”


Of course, beautiful Narcissa to the rescue, always making sure her sister didn't bite more than she could chew. One would think she had learnt her lesson from her little escapade with Malfoy. But, as Stephan knew, some little bitches never learnt.

“Go bother someone at your own level, Black,” he said simply, his eyes never straying from his book. “I heard Snape got into another fight with your cousin. Maybe he could entertain you.”


“How dare you, Wilkes!”

A heavy hand landed on the enraged girl's shoulder while the tip of a wand made its way to her forehead.

“You heard him, Black,” Rossier hissed. “Go away.”

Both Black sisters huffed before leaving the Common Room. Most likely Snape would get a hard time for this, unless Malfoy was with him.

He idly hoped that was the case. Seeing Bellatrix Black defeated and humiliated was always a sight to remember.

“Still reading, Wilkes?” Rossier asked, sitting by his side. His girlfriend, Callahan, standing faithfully behind him.

“There's nothing else to do, is there?” he said simply. “I like to learn, it empowers me.”

“Knowledge is power, right,” Rossier rolled his eyes. Stephan never understood why Rossier and Callahan thought they were friends. He had certainly never made an effort to approach them. Yet they insisted to cling to him like they were childhood comrades.

He felt thankful to an extent. The months in Hogwarts would be unbearable without their senseless chatter to make him less anxious for home.

“Thinking about your boyfriend again?” asked Callahan, her long black hair falling into her face. She wasn't ugly per se, yet she always hid behind her hair. Maybe that's what kept boys away from her. Boys surely, but certainly not Evan.

“Have you heard the rumors?” Rossier asked, his face lighting with a grin. “The Dark Lord is recruiting away. Maybe this year we will get picked!”

“Not an appropriate conversation for the Common Room, Rossier,” he said absently, passing a page. “You never know who could be hearing.”

Callahan laughed softly.

Rossier rolled his eyes.

“Is that the reason you are so tight-lipped about yourself?” he asked. “You never tell us much about your life back home.”

“Only about your little boyfriend,” the girl supplied, sitting in front of them on the carpet. “Don't think we haven't noticed he hasn't aged a year since the day you came to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, Wilkes,” said another voice. “Do tell us.”

All three turned to see Lucius Malfoy, the Slytherin King himself, leaning casually by the door. Snape behind him, as always.

“I don't believe that is any of your business,” he replied lowly. Grigory was his and not about to be shared with anyone.

“Come on,” Rossier said, his eyes glinting. Malfoy waved his wand and conjured two seats for him and Snape.

“You might raise something of interest for the Dark Lord,” he said, sitting gracefully.

Stephan frowned.

The Dark Lord? He obviously admired the Pure Blooded hero set into returning the world to their rightful owners.


Who didn't?

Everyone in Slytherin would cut their wand arm off to get the Dark Lord's attention.

And of course they all knew Malfoy was set to succeed his father as the Lord's right hand man as soon as he graduated that year.

Maybe he could score some points now and, as soon as he graduated, he would be recruited.

His parents would be so proud.

Grigory would be so happy.

He wouldn't have to be his dirty little secret anymore.

He sighed and closed his book.

“His name is Grigory, he's an incubus,” he began. “He was with me the moment I was born. I'm his master...”

Throughout the night, he told his comrades about his little love and what he could do, while his mind easily conjured scenarios of victory and fame for himself and his beloved.

Malfoy and the others listened intently, their eyes wide in surprise.

None of them noticed Professor Slughorn's horrified eyes as he listened into their conversation.

-----

It happened a month later. He could even remember the date.

Somewhere between the middle of term and exams.

He was lying in bed, reading something his mother had sent when stabbing agony pierced his chest. It was hot, then cold, so sharp and powerful. Immediately Stephan knew something was wrong. His mind filled with images of light and fire and his own home, surrounded by Aurors.


Wands pointed at his parents as they fought for their survival.

Then a figure emerged between the Aurors. All colorful robes and wise eyes.

Dumbledore was at his home?

Without even bothering with his parents, the old wizard entered his bedroom, his eyes hard.

“Old man!” Grigory cried, hiding behind his bed. His room was in flames, he could tell, and Grigory was scared.

“You,” the man hissed, his wand raising with intent.

“Don't hurt Grigory, please!” the imp begged, his eyes wide. “Grigory just wants master! Grigory has been a good boy!!”

Dumbledore stopped.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “The house is on fire, you should get out.”

Grigory shook his head, his eyes were wide, full of fright.

“Master ordered I waited for him in his room,” he whimpered, clutching a pillow to his chest. “Grigory is a good boy, so I wait for Master's return.”

Something in the little boy's eyes seemed to beg Dumbledore. He wanted to leave the house. He wanted to live.

Dumbledore let out a cold chuckle, something that froze Stephan's blood.

“You can't leave the room without orders, can't you?” he said, shrugging. “A shame.”

“You can ask Master for order, right?” Grigory sobbed. “Grigory is afraid.”

Dumbledore seemed to falter for a second, staring at him. Then, he shook his head.

“You used that trick on Gellert too, didn't you?” he said, turning around. “I will only say what I told him the last time we saw each other I will pray for your soul and hope that the next time we meet you shall receive a second chance at happiness.”

Without another word, Dumbledore left the house. Some Aurors asked him whether there was someone else at the house as they pulled the Wilkes from their manor and House elves apparatus away.


The old man shook his head.

“No one,” he said. “The son is back at Hogwarts.”

Grigory wailed as the flames started to lick his skin. He called out Stephan's name and cursed Dumbledore's, promising him revenge.

He continued to rave as the fire started to consume his feet, his little fist banged on the door as his voice rose higher and higher in hysteria.

Then, he grew silent.

Stephan woke up to a cold sweat and Rossier's concerned face over his own.

“You were screaming in your sleep,” he explained, his eyes concerned.

“Something happened at my home,” he said weakly. “My parents, Grigory.”

“Malfoy came with an owl from his father,” Rossier said. “The Aurors came to your house, killed your parents and burned the place down.”

Stephan knew that Evan was saying something else, something about revenge and the Dark Lord and how his parents were heroes, but he could only think about Grigory, his little love, his imp.

Gone.

His fists clenched tightly, his eyes narrowed.

“Dumbledore,” he hissed, grabbing his wand.

-----

Before he knew it he was in Azkaban. He had tried to get his revenge on Dumbledore and failed.

Now he only had to wait for the dementors to take his soul so he could finally reunite with his Grigory. The war had come and he was locked in, unable to fight for what he believed in.

Not that it mattered really.

Everything he had ever loved was gone. Nothing would be the same again.

Mrs. Black, the powerful matriarch of the Black family raved from her own cell, wailing that her Lord would not change her for one of her own daughters, and that he would come for her any second. Stephan shook his head and continued to stare through his little window.

When were the Dementors going to give him the kiss?

The sooner he died, the sooner he would be reunited with his Grigory.

“Oh, Wilkes,” whispered a gentle voice. Slowly, Stephan raised his face and found Narcissa Malfoy standing by his cell, her eyes full of pity.

“Cissy, dear,” whimpered Mrs. Black from her own cell and the blond woman approached her instantly.

Stephan wondered why would that wisp of a girl be of any importance to him, but she was like a splash of color in his now dulled world. She had something, she meant something. He knew it.

“... and that's what's happening, mother,” Narcissa narrated, her hands caressing her mother's through the bars of her cell. “Lucius and I plan to have a baby soon. Maybe by next spring.”

“An heir to our family,” Mrs. Black hissed happily. “Wonderful my child, wonderful! You need to restore our honorable family to its grandeur!”

The young woman nodded, pity clear in her eyes. Her mother seemed not to hear her as she went on and on about how their lord would love such wonderful news.

“You must name your child as tradition dictates, 'Cissy,” the woman said, her bony fingers pointing through her window at the stars.

“Lucius wanted to name our child after his grandfather Augustus,” the blond said. The old woman shrieked.

“YOU SHALL DO NO SUCH THING!” she said, pulling her own hair. “THIS CHILD WILL BE A BLACK!! HE SHALL RECIEVE A NAME LIKE A BLACK'S!”

Narcissa sighed, nodding her head.

Suddenly Stephan was interested. It was almost like a sign from heaven, something whispering in his ear with Grigory's sweet voice.

“I'm here, Stephan,” it seemed to say. “I shall come back to you from this woman.”

“Draconis, then,” Narcissa said absently “Draconis Malfoy.”

“Good, my love, good,” Walpurga Black hissed, her hand caressing her daughter's now. “The Dark Lord shall be pleased.”

Oh, Stephan could almost imagine the future. Draconis Malfoy was such a beautiful name for his little one.

As an auror escorted Narcissa out of Azkaban, he lunged to her and grabbed her arm.

“Narcissa!” he gasped to her, his other hand instantly going to her stomach. “Take care of my Draconis, he is my little love. My only love. You must be a good mother to him or I shall rip your head from your body!!” he threatened.

The Auror tried to stun him unsuccessfully, Narcissa screamed in fright.

A tall man dressed in black came into his line of sight and casted a curse Stephan didn't recognize.

All he felt from then on was pain as his skin ripped open and blood pooled under his knees. Recognition lit his eyes finally as he fell to the floor.

“S... nape,” he gurgled out as the man took Narcissa in his arms protectively.

More aurors filled his cell as his world became dark, the last thing he heard as they pointed their wands at him and Dementors followed were Narcissa's whispered thanks to Snape and how she swore her son would be Snape's godchild, in retribution.

-----------

When Harry opened his eyes, he was back in Albus' and Scorpius' office. Ron and Hermione were sitting by his side, their arms around him. Their eyes wide in shock.

“Are you ok, mate?” Ron said softly.

Harry shook his head.

“I don't think so,” he whimpered. “This was...”

Hermione then ran her fingers through his hair soothingly just as Albus came to into his sight. He had a cup of tea in his hands.

“You knew it was him?” he asked weakly. His son nodded slowly.

“Scorpius and I treated Mr. Malfoy some years ago,” he explained guiltily. “We saw you two, we saw what happened.”

“Caedyrn, Etsuji-kun, Jean Luke, Grigory... all this time it was him?”

The young man nodded once more.

“He said he had known you were special since the moment he saw you, that he had wanted to be by your side all those years, but you kept pushing him away. He felt betrayed, scared... and then the war came.”

And Harry understood.

When he had first seen Malfoy he had felt a connection, something that forced him to acknowledge the blond. But he was so hurtful, so vicious. He couldn't possibly accept such a brat.

Malfoy was a bully, then a Death Eater, and then he had hidden inside his manor not to be seen or heard of again, someone he could have easily dismissed after the war.

Yet, every time their eyes met on the streets, every time the Prophet managed to dig something of him and his family, Harry was glued to the papers, he couldn't ignore him.

They were tied by destiny, by fate.

They had sinned and loved each other for so long.

How could he have been so blind.

Shakily, he stood and took his wand.

“I need to talk to him,” he said softly. Ron and Hermione stood then, their eyes frantic.

“Harry, are you insane? You are in no condition to-” Hermione tried to say, but Harry cut her off.

“I need to see him,” he stuttered. “Make everything right!”

“Mate, it's Malfoy we are talking about! You have to let him go!” Ron snapped. “You two have hurt each other too much!”

“I NEED HIM!” Harry screamed. “All this years I've felt incomplete! Lonely! I need him! I need to apologize!”

Albus opened his mouth, his eyes downcast, but Harry didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear his son join his best friends and try to stop him. He had to talk to Malfoy NOW.

Without a second thought he waved his wand lightly and apparated straight to Malfoy Manor.

This feud between Malfoy and himself ended right there.

He was instantly greeted by Astoria Greengrass, Malfoy's wife. And Harry felt hatred so deep run through him as she saw her. She was the one that had taken Draco from him. She was the one to share his bed every night, to give him a son to be proud of, to protect him and embrace him and love him.

She didn't deserve him.

The woman looked at him tiredly, her eyes bloodshot.

“I was wondering how long you would take to come here, Potter,” she said simply, her shoulders tense. “When my son came home and told me you had undergone astral healing I knew you would come.”

“Where is he,” he hissed, clenching his hand over his wand. It would take so little to snap the life out of her.

Draco and he would be together.

Astoria ran a hand through her long blond hair and shook her head.

“In the gardens, Scorpius is there with him.”

“You are not going to get between us again, are you?” he snapped, eyes narrowed “Like you did all those lifetimes ago?”

The woman shook her head.

“That wasn't me, Mr. Potter,” she explained. “The Gaul, Lady Hanako, Monsieur Marcel, Count Durmstrang, that wasn't me all those centuries ago.”

“Then how do you know those names!” the man growled, ready to throw and unforgivable curse at the hag, to hell with the consequences

“My husband told me all about him, about that man that tortured him once, made him suffer and then promised him his life and protection. The one that will always look out for him. You knew him too, once. My husband's godfather, Professor Snape?”

Harry nodded.

It made sense, in a way, the man always tried to keep them apart, and the tenderness he held Draco with every time they were together.

Harry should have known it was that bastard.

“Don't get in our way,” he threatened and ran to the gardens, he didn't care that Astoria was shaking her head at him as he ran. She could think whatever she liked.

He found Scorpius first. He was sitting by an old tree, his knees hugged to his chest as tears ran down his face. As soon as the young man saw him, however, he stood and wiped his face clean with his sleeve.

“Mr. Potter,” he said. “You shouldn't be here, your mind has not stabilized from all the memories from your past li-”

“Where is he!” Harry interrupted, eyes wild. “We need to talk! We need to get everything clear, everything has to...”

Scorpius' hand stopped his words as it pointed gracefully towards his back.

Harry frowned, then paled.

Behind Scorpius, there was no Draco.

Only headstones.

“No,” he whimpered. The blond young man nodded sadly.

“It happened a year ago,” he whispered. “A man caught us both in Diagon Alley, said something about retribution for the war and hit father with the killing curse.”

Harry stumbled to his knees, his eyes set on one single marble headstone.

Draconis Augustus Malfoy

1981 – 2030

Beloved father, husband and son.

May your soul finally find the peace you deserve.

“Draco...” Harry whimpered, unable to believe his eyes. After all they had gone through. After all the fighting, all the mistakes and pain. Just as they were ready to be together, ready to love each other.

This happened?

It wasn't fair!

“He died with your name in his lips, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius said softly. “He used to say he hoped you two could meet one day, without all your past between you two.”

Harry could hardly hear him against the raging in his ears and the twisting inside his chest. He was ready to accept, to forgive and beg for forgiveness. He was ready to look into the eyes of the person he had loved for almost a thousand years and let himself go.

And that person was no longer there.

“Mr. Potter, you need to come back inside with me,” Scorpius said softly. “You are too strung from the session, you need to sit down and let your mind stabilize itself before you hurt yourself.”

He tried to reach for Mr. Potter's arm, but the man was father, he jumped out of his reach and lunged himself at Draco's tomb, a wail of pure despair tore out of his throat as he clung to the headstone and cried. It broke Scorpius' heart to see Mr. Potter like that, almost as much as the knowledge that his father didn't have enough time to find happiness in this life.

“All this time I thought I was doing the right thing,” Harry whimpered hoarsely. “I was the good guy, Malfoy was the bad guy. I wasted so much time. So many opportunities.. I was the bad guy then, I let him suffer and I...”

“Mr. Potter...” Scorpius pleaded, walking towards him. “Sir, please, your mind...”

“I was the enemy, Scorpius, I pushed everything that reminded me of him away, I hated you so much, because you look like him... I couldn't stand the thought that Albus could be happy with you... because I wasn't happy with him! I'm the enemy. I'm my own worst enemy,” he kept rambling, his hand running carefully over the marble.

“Sir...”

“For enemies only,” he whispered suddenly. His eyes light. “Snape was right, enemies...”

Scorpius couldn't move fast enough, and it would haunt him for the rest of his days as he saw Harry raise his wand towards his own chest and mutter “Sectum Sempra”. He instantly started bleeding as cuts teared his skin.

The blond called out for help, for Albus, for his mother.

But none of them knew the counter curse.

Harry James Potter died that same day, his hands clutching Draco Malfoy's headstone.

Albus cried in Scorpius' arms.

Astoria stared impassively. Somehow she knew this would be the outcome.

Ron and Hermione would remember Harry's peaceful face for the rest of their lives, and would look for him in every child they had from the on.

The world mourned Harry Potter until the very thought of him equaled Albus Dumbledore, and his image was the one of a chocolate frog card.

None of them would ever remember the reason for his death, nor the person he sought so ardently.

--------

“But father!” cried a little boy, no older than six. “Why do I have to go? I wanted to stay with Aunt Victorie!”

“Orion Draconis Malfoy,” sighed Scorpius tiredly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Your father worked himself half to death to finish up this potion and I have to take care of him. Surely you can be a good boy and deliver it before it spoils!”

The little blond, Orion, pouted lightly, not happy with the situation. But he had seen his Daddy's tired face and the way his father swayed on his feet when he thought no one saw him. They were both exhausted and Aunt Victorie, his godmother and favorite aunt in the world had come from her own house to look after them.

He really could do this little favor for them.

“Fine!” he sulked, snatching the potion from his father's hand. “But then Aunt Victorie will take me flying?”

The woman smiled gently and kissed his forehead.

She was so pretty, no wonder she was Orion's favorite aunt.

“Sure, little one, I promise.”

Orion squealed happily and ran towards the fireplace. He was a big boy, of course, and his parents let him floo by himself.

“I'll be back in a minute!” he cried as he disappeared in the flames, completely missing his father's devious smirk and Aunt Victorie's giggles.

It was Uncle Ted that greeted him on the other side. Orion never liked him, really. He was old. Too old for beautiful Aunt Victorie. And his hair was funny, it changed colors like a rainbow and he was a werewolf like his own father had been, and while his Daddy told him time and time again that Uncle Ted was harmless, Orion knew he must be a monster and Aunt Victorie was a princess he kept captive.

One of these days he would rescue her and they would ride off to the sunset.

“Orion!” Uncle Ted greeted him with a tired smile. Last night there was a full moon and Orion knew he must have tired himself with his transformation and all. “So glad you are here!”

Orion nodded, handing him one of the vials in his hands.

“Father said you had to drink it all in one gulp, Uncle,” he said haughtily Not comfortable around his Uncle.

The man nodded and downed the potion, making a face.

“Tell your daddy to do something for the taste, please,” he complained.

Orion frowned.

“Daddy always says that adding sugar to the potion will spoil it, silly,” he defended, as it was usual.

Uncle Ted nodded, laughing.

“Can you take the other vial to Will's room, please? He had a little mishap last night, we think he might have the curse too, or some of it.”

Orion nodded, still frowning.

He wanted to explore the house, as it was the first time he was there, and of course, Aunt Victorie's and Uncle Ted's sickly son was not as interesting as Aunt Victorie's bedroom or the garden!

“Sure,” he sighed, stalking towards a white door his Uncle pointed.

Stupid adults, always too busy to pay attention to his own needs.

Granny Astoria would have a fit if she heard of this.

He would explore as soon as he threw the potion down the brat's throat. How come the little snot didn't leave the house? Surely no child could be that sick.

He entered the room noisily, dimly making out a huddled form under a mountain of covers.

“Hey, I brought you a potion!” he snapped impatiently, frowning when a pale hand made its way from the covers and took the vial under.

Some minutes later he heard retching and he grew angry.

“Hey!” he growled. “Don't spit it! My Daddy spent hours making that potion!”

“S... sorry,” a weak voice whimpered. “It's bad.”

“Why are you down there anyway?” he asked, taking some covers in his hands and pulling. “It's noon!”

A red haired head appeared from under all the bedspread, blue eyes blinking tiredly at him.

Orion lost his breath.

“I have a cold,” the same weak voice wheezed. “Mummy and Daddy say you shouldn't come too close.”

The boy was so small, smaller than Orion himself, and his skin was so pale, as pale as Aunt Victorie's, but prettier, so much prettier.

“Are you Will?” Orion asked suddenly, climbing into the bed to take a closer look.

The redhead nodded.

“My name is William, you shouldn't call me Will, only Daddy does that,” he said softly, his cheeks tinted with pink. “Who are you, anyway?”

Orion puffed out his chest proudly.

“I'm Orion Malfoy, and you are my bride.”

Pale blue eyes widened as the redhead stared in surprise.

“Your... bride? But I'm a boy!” he protested.

“So? My parents are both boys and they are married!” he said, taking William's hand in his own. “And Aunt Victorie is my godmother, she said you could marry me.”

Will blinked.

“She did?” he asked.

“Of course she did!” Orion lied, letting his hand run through Will's soft hair. He was perfect in every way.

“Oh... ok, if you say so,” he said finally, giving his now-fiancée a shy smile. “Please take care of me.”

“Forever,” Orion promised, returning that smile. Something inside of him felt like he had finally found what he had been looking for.

The one person that completed him.

And as Will laid back down in bed and prompted Orion to do the same, he knew he would never have to let go of that small hand in his.

Not for the world.

Outside, Ted Lupin gawked as his wife and her school friends Albus and Scorpius told him about their little plan and how all astral charts seemed to point out that their little Will, their angel, was destined to be with that snotty brat Orion, and how it was meant to be.

And as all grown ups stared into the boy's room, Orion laid down with Will and fell into a peaceful slumber.

Complete, at last.

The End.