Fathers, Godfathers, and Godsons...Oh My

So sorry. You were right. I was guilty of the classic sin of not keeping track of my characters. My bad.


Chapter 8

Harry wasn’t able to find Draco, and he walked quietly to Auror Basics with lead feet. Albus seemed to appear next to him, following, “It’ll be alright, Harry.”

Sighing, “I don’t think it will...he’s going to make me choose...I can’t not be friends with Draco...”

Nodding, “It’s hard, I know, to choose family over friends...I myself had a similar issue with my brother when we were in school...” Albus looked troubled, “...I chose friendship first and it nearly cost me everything.”

Swallowing before glancing at the Headmaster, “You’re my guardian, you’re Draco’s father...are we really brothers?”

“You will be...I hope. I have but to wait for both the Ministry’s approval...and your’s...”

Harry thought to himself carefully. Could he really give up Ron? Ron was his best friend. Hermione was his best friend. Draco had put her through hell and had forgiven him almost instantly. Ron was being a git, “You have it...my approval. I want to be his brother.”

Albus’ eyes sparkled, “I had hoped you would feel that way...well, I’m off to do Headmaster things. Enjoy your day, Harry, and I’ll see you at supper.” Harry smiled, watched the old man depart before running for his next class, feeling much better.

***

Draco silently ground his teeth and fought with his temper. He’d already had a beast of a day putting up with Weasley, not to mention all the other classes and now this prick was just trying to jerk him around. He kept his glare on the sheet of music before him while his music professor shook his head. This french bastard criticized everything. He wasn’t holding the violin properly. His grip was too loose. His fingers were spaced too far apart. It wasn’t tuned perfectly. He made too many mistakes inner-mixed with his primary chord... how the hell would this ass know, he made the music up as he went.

Waving an imperious hand, sitting back and staring at Draco critically, “Try to play that piece. Something simple...”

Oh, he hated this guy. Pompous ass that reminded him too much of a father he had tried to emulate a seeming lifetime ago. And he’d caught the barest hint of sarcasm and disdain. Something easy, indeed. Eyes narrowing at the paper, he made no move to lift his violin. What was the point? He couldn’t play this, “I
can’t play this.”

Sighing, “It’s not difficult-...”

He ground his teeth and fought for composure. It warred with his newfound freedom but his inner discipline won and he spoke emotionlessly, “I cannot play it.”

The Professor’s eyes narrowed. Professor Lepew, what kind of a stupid name was that, anyway? His alter ego from Professor Stinky, “Play.”

Whoops, there went composure, “I can’t play it!”

His wand tapping against his thigh, “Mr. Malfo-...“

Draco honed in on him. Even Weasley avoided that name. He would not let this little snob that reminded
him too much of Lucius slight him, “My name is Dumbledore!” He was proud of that fact. Proud that Albus had taken him in and even prouder that he’d escaped from his parents.

Sighing, “You played before us as Malfoy, therefore you are Malfoy.” Nose wrinkling at him, “Even if only in name...”

Only in name. Oh, he knew what that meant. Every pure blood knew it. Disowned. Disinherited. Disgraced. The three D’s that made someone inferior. His temper gone, “Then I quit.” Albus had said he didn’t have to put up with this crap. He could play. He didn’t need a tutor. And he knocked the music stand over, sheet music flying on his way out the door.

Viola chirped loudly and landed on the floor from her spot by the window, little legs running and wings
flapping to catch him. She hissed at the human sitting in utter shock in his chair before wiggling her hind end, tail propelling her along. With a leap she snagged Draco’s pants leg and with a sigh he scooped her up, murmuring to her, “Sorry, girl.”

He made his way without even looking through the halls and out into the late afternoon sun, little dragon lying contentedly in the crook of his arm. He clenched his teeth and fought with his temper. He would not blow something up. He would not blow something up, “Hey! Malfoy!”

Draco spun around, eyes glaring hotly and body tensed. His violin in one hand, his wand now in the other, and pet landing in the grass with a squeak. Two Hufflepuff and one Ravenclaw fifth years and Theodore Nott, all with their wands trained on him and grinning cockily and looking just like him a seeming lifetime ago, “Where are your friends now, blood traitor?”

Draco tilted his head a little, silently staring at them. And he felt it all fade away. All of his anger and frustration gone because he understood. Blood Traitor. Mudblood. No different. He’d heard the expression that you reap what you sow. Well, this was his own doing. Weasley, the students, this was all his own fault. He’d wanted their anger, their disdain and he received it now in spades.

He ignored their taunts and their words, ignored them pushing him to the ground and just curled up into a ball to protect his violin as they kicked and beat him into the ground. Time seemed to slow down, aware of every bruise and broken bone, every cut and fracture. It was just a constant throb of pain to his mind but it was no different than a large part of his childhood. Just play dead, don’t make a sound, soon it will end.

Nott snarled at the little monstrosity fluttering her wings and scratching his arm and batted her away, sending her flying with a pained howl. What seemed like an eternity but was most probably just a few minutes, all four of them were flung far from him, landing to the ground and scrambling back. Their eyes all widened to see Professor Lappish, Professor Snape, and Hermione Granger training their wands on them. Draco’s eyes rolled back and he remembered nothing beyond this, “What is the meaning of this??”

“You four, a single filed line this instant!”

Hermione trembled, her wand at the ready and tears in her eyes. She would not show weakness. And she would get all four of them when no one was looking. She thanked Merlin she’d decided to give her History of Magic class a tour of the grounds or she nor the other Professors would have been attracted by Viola’s cries. Students had all run down the corridor to see what was going on, gathering at the entrance and unsure what to do. They looked at one another, “What’s all the fuss about?”

“Do you see his face?”

“By Merlin, what did they do?”

“Damn, he can take a beating...”

“Isn’t someone going to help him?”

Ron Weasley took one look at the situation and made his decision, pushing past all of them to kneel down next to Draco. He winced, seeing the damage and froze for a moment to figure out what to do. He saw the violin and carefully pried Draco’s fingers from it. Glancing behind him, “Neville.” The brunette hurried over, several Gryffindors acting as crowd control, “Guard this, it means a lot to him.”

Obviously if the git took a beating just to protect it. The brunette nodded and carefully handled the instrument while Ron bit into his lip and gently lifted the blond into his arms. Viola hissed weakly and limped over, he extending his hand down, “I’m not going to hurt him. Come here, then...” She cocked her head at him before limping around his hand and crawling up carefully onto Draco’s chest, snuggling into his shirt with a whimper.

Ron shook his head to himself and focused on the blond. He needed Pomfrey and he needed it now. Hermione was suddenly in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line of worry. Over her shoulder he could see Snape leaving the clean up to the Ravenclaw Head of House before storming over, “On three.” She nodded tightly and Draco whimpered as they stood, bundled safely between their arms, sounding very much like his dragon, though unconscious.

Severus’ cheek ticked a moment before turning to growl at the on lookers, “Move to the side this instant.” The congregating students all scattered, making room as Harry ran across the grass, hearing the commotion from Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class, “Ron! What’s...what’s goin-Draco!!”

Harry was horrified, Hermione’s voice tight, “Talk later.” The two boys nodded to one another, Ron and Hermione carrying him inside with Snape clearing the path, the brunette trailing after them.