Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ unbreakableBOND ❯ The Butterfly's Wings ( Chapter 21 )

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter.

Oi!!!: Last chapter.

unbreakableBOND

Chapter 20: The Butterfly's Wings

“Harry! Harry, wake up! Why isn't he waking up!?”

“Please, Mr. Malfoy, give the Healers some room!”

“Like hell! Wake him up, this instant!”

“Someone get him out of here, now!”

“No! Harry! Harry!”

Screaming, all Harry could hear was screaming. Who was screaming? Was it Draco? Hermione? His mother? Himself? He couldn't figure it out, but he wanted it to stop. It hurt his ears. He hurt all over. His ears, his eyes, his stomach, they all felt like they were on fire. Oh, God, his stomach. His baby. Their baby. His stomach was spasm, he could feel something rolling around in there, almost could hear his child's cries of pain, but he could definitely feel them.

“...Draco?” a whispered prayer, unheeded.

And now Harry knew he was screaming.

+++

Draco sat doubled over with his head resting in his hands, his white blond hair covering his face. His clothes were ragged and bloody, torn from spells and dodging them. The blood was a mixture of his and others, others he'd rather not think about.

He stared at the linoleum floor, eyes as glazed as it was. He couldn't hear anything around him, it was almost as if he weren't there, like this was some kind of illusion his mind produced to escape some trauma. But then, why were his delusions so horrid?

Draco felt someone sit next to him in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Why, he thought absently, didn't hospitals have more comfortable chairs to mull over the most dreadful scenarios in?

“Draco?” The voice was soft with a tinge of shrill.

“Mum Weasely,” Draco answered, not bothering to look at the woman.

Her hand rested on his shoulder, and she took a deep breath. “Draco, I know this is hard but-”

“Mum Weasely, please, I can't take any bad news right now,” he looked up into the face of a haggard Molly. She had the look of someone who had been through hell and back, and now was here to relate the tale. Draco's eyes filled with tears. “Please,” he whispered. “Not, Harry.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, not Harry.”

“Then what?” Draco asked. “My mother? My father?” The red haired woman's eyes filled with tears. “Which is it!?”

“Your father,” she rasped out. “Draco, I'm so sorry.” She pulled him into a tight hug, her hand stroking his dirty and dishevelled blond hair. “I'm so sorry.”

Draco found himself simply staring into Molly Weasely's shoulder, frozen. He didn't know what to think, whether he should cry now, or later, or whether he should cry at all. Perhaps she was mistaken and his father wasn't dead at all? Maybe it was a mistake, that's all this was, a mistake.

“How? Who?” He heard himself ask. He pulled away and looked frantically into his second mothers eyes. “Who did it!? Tell me!”

“Excuse me.” Both Molly and Draco turned to see Petunia Dursley standing awkwardly in the hallway. “Mrs. Weasely, there's a doctor wanting to speak to you on the second floor.”

“Of course.” Molly stood and looked down at Draco. “It's going to be okay,” she whispered, then walked away.

Petunia stood there for a second more before finally sitting down next to Draco, who had once again put his head in his hands. They sat in silence for quite a long time, just waiting, grieving, hoping. Finally Petunia spoke, almost as if to herself.

“I killed someone today.” She set her had back against the wall and looked at the ceiling. “No, I killed people today.” Draco turned to look at her from the corner of his eye, but didn't offer any insight. “I killed someone I wish I hadn't...I wish I hadn't had to kill anyone at all...I'm a murderer.”

“We all are,” Draco told her. “But we all had to be.”

“You wouldn't say that if you knew what I did,” she said weakly.

Draco felt his chest seize, his hear skipped a beat, and he sat up fully and turned to face the woman completely. “You...you killed my father.”

She turned watery eyes to him slowly; her mouth wavered as she tried to speak. She suddenly and violently shook her head yes. “I'm sorry,” she gasped. “I'm so sorry! If I had...If I had been more careful, if I had remembered who he was sooner, I would-”

“Stop,” Draco told her. “Just stop. I know that this really wasn't your fault, I know that. But, right now...right now, you're still the woman who killed my father. So, please...just stop.”

Petunia stood quickly. “I understand, I'll go now.” She looked around uncertainly, before turning on her heel and going back the way she came.

And there Draco sat, five hours later when a Healer came out to deliver the news.

“Mr. Malfoy, I've got some good and bad news,” Healer Pomfrey told him. “Both Mr. Malfoy and your child are alive, but the bad news is Mr. Malfoy has fallen into a coma.”

“A coma?” Draco repeated. “When will he wake up?”

“That's not something we can determine at this point in time. We are 99% sure it's from shock. Best case scenario he'll awaken in a few days.”

“And the worst?” Draco prompted.

“He won't,” Healer Pomfrey said gravely. Draco made a choking noise in the back of his throat and threw his head in his hands for the third time.

“And our child?” he whispered, his blurry gaze unable to focus on the tile floor.

“It pains me deeply to say this, Mr. Malfoy, but we simply don't know.” Draco nodded in response, unable to say anything else without choking. “Would you like to see him?” The blond rose, and followed the small woman down the hall to a large room. They stepped inside and Draco immediately went to Harry's side, letting his eyes roam over the amazingly unharmed body. Healer Pomfrey began to leave, but she stopped for a moment and said to Draco, quiet softly, “He's Harry Potter, well, now he's Harry Malfoy, and it's only made him stronger. He'll pull through, they'll pull through.” With that, she left them alone.

Draco sat heavily in the chair next to the bed. The only thing left to do was wait. Wait and pray.

+++

“Did you hear?”

“About what?”

“Severus Snape, of course! They're holding his trial until Harry Potter can testify.”

“Really? And what of Severus Snape in the mean time?”

“Azkaban, naturally. You'd think they'd let that man go already, it's been nearly three months, now. How many people have testified on his behalf thus far? Molly and Arthur Weasely, Nymphadora Tonks, that relative of Harry Potter's, what's her name? Oh, Petunia Dursley.”

“Haven't Narcissa Malfoy, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black also testified?”

“Oh, tosh! Like they matter. A Malfoy, a beast, and an ex-con. I still maintain that Sirius Black is a cold blooded killer, all the Black's are.”

“And whatever happened to the youngest Malfoy? I think I've seen him wandering the halls here, but it may be my imagination, as soon as I think I see him, it's like he was never there...”

The voices faded away as the Healers moved from their station and down the hall, their gossip floating in to the room where Draco had been sitting for the better part of three months.

For three months he'd watch them run test after test on Harry, the Healers never gaining any knew information. It was never good to not have any news, in Draco's opinion. He'd done everything the Healers asked him to. Talked to Harry, sat with him, held his hand, and every once in awhile they'd allow him to sleep in the same bed.

And for three months Draco watch Harry's stomach grow, even as his body got thinner. The Healers told him the child was healthy, but it was feeding off of Harry at an alarming rate and could possibly be the reason for the coma. Draco told them he didn't want to hear such a theory, the last thing he needed was resentment for his unborn child.

There were days when he thought he could stay in that white washed, poorly lit, room for another moment. He'd get as far as the Atrium before panicking that Harry would wake up, or go into labour, or worse and he'd run back up the five flights of stairs to the long term ward.

Draco had left for the funeral of his father, however. It was small and quiet, and he stayed under Harry's invisibility cloak for the whole of the ordeal. There was a seemingly empty chair next to his mother, but it was the only way with the Aurors watching her every move. Even so, he held her hand the entire time. He didn't cry, something about staying strong with his mother, though she couldn't see him, wouldn't let him.

Since the funeral he had, taken over the family business, and thus spent his time managing books and owling various customers and affiliates. Some days he warded the window and laid next to Harry until a Healer came in and yelled at him.

He'd followed the news closely, saving articles about Dumbledore's funeral and Severus' trial and the like for Harry when he awoke. So many had died, so many that Harry would feel responsible for. Dumbledore, Percy Weasely, Dean Thomas, Professor Flitwick, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and Mad-Eye Moody. Draco knew the death of the half-giant, his first friend, would probably hit Harry harder than any other death. Still, he saved the list of those who had fallen in battle, from both the Light and the Dark sides.

The Healers had told him it would be best to break news like that to him directly, but Draco knew Harry, and he knew that meant he'd want the full story for himself.

For now, Draco lived in a world where there was only Harry. The outside didn't matter. Kingsley Shacklebolt was acting as stand in Minister until a new one could be found. Draco knew this was because they wanted Harry to be the new one, even at such a young age.

Draco couldn't say he agreed with that. Harry knew nothing of the Wizarding government and when he woke up he'd be far too unstable and more than likely unwilling to be given such a high power. Draco had Hermione write the Wizengamot to inform them of these speculations so they could actually look for a new minister.

Yes, outside the world was changing. Lord Keita, Sir Yamiko, and Roy Potter were all held on trial for plots against Wizarding kind. Lord Keita spoke for the group, informing the Wizengamot that they had to take matters into their own hands for their own safety. They knew that the Wizarding community wouldn't offer them protection if Voldemort had found the way to kill them. Lord Keita explained that just as the Wizarding community had a desire to protect their own, that was Lord Keita's duty. Kingsley ruled that the case was dismissed. Draco had read that case with particular interest, especially when they spoke of Draco's abduction. Lord Keita told Shacklebolt the truth; Bliase Zabini was working for them, hoping to get in good with Voldemort and abducted Draco. When asked of Draco's whereabouts he responded that he didn't know.

Which was true. No one knew where he was except for a few Healers and close friends. His mother was on house arrest until he was found, and the investigation of her allegiance was over. As such, she was rarely able to contact him, and he her. She told Draco not to worry about her; now that Lucius was dead she didn't know if she wanted to leave anyway. Draco only felt guilt at that and a growing resentment for Petunia Dursley.

Hermione and Ron visited practically every day; they would tell Harry animated stories about the Burrow, or things that were happening in the world. Hermione liked to talk about SPEW and Ron would talk of Quidditch. Hermione told him how she worked for the Ministry now, in a new section created for equality for all wizards and magical creatures that were capable of intelligent thought processes (i.e. Vampires, Werewolves, etc).

Always, when their visit came to a close Hermione would look a Draco sadly, squeeze his hand in a reassuring manner and then leave without another word. Ron normally followed with a pat to his shoulder.

Petunia visited quite frequently, between her visits to Severus and her private training in magic by the new Headmistress McGonagall. Draco always left when she entered the room, still unable to look the woman who killed his father and caused his mother so much pain in the eye.

He knew it was irrational, he knew that his father was technically a horrible man who did horrible things, and Petunia had no idea who he was. But he couldn't help but remember the loving side of his father. When he was younger, who he'd swing Draco around in the garden, or when he taught him to fly, or sitting on his lap while he was learning to read French, and mostly the look on his face when he told Draco the story about him and James. Lucius had never wanted to be a bad man, the world made him that way.

And so the world kept spinning and Draco Malfoy sat static in one moment.

+++

“Meester Marfoi.” Draco looked up to see Lord Keita and Roy standing in the middle of the room. He stood suddenly, hand itching for his wand. Lord Keita caught the small twinge and smiled, holding his hands up. “We are not here to fight.”

“Then what do you want?” Draco asked, not moving from his defensive position.

“I have a proposition to make,” Lord Keita answered, stepping forward. “One that could benefit you greatly.”

Draco eyed the vampire suspiciously. “How?”

“I may be able to awaken your young Bonded.”

Draco's heart skipped a beat; his eyes went from Harry to Lord Keita, to Roy, and back to Harry. They narrowed as he spoke. “Why? How? What do you want in return?”

Lord Keita looked at Roy quickly, then answered, “Perhaps proposition wasn't the best term. We just want to help.”

“Again, why? What the fuck do you care anyhow?”

This time Roy stepped forward, passing Lord Keita and Draco to stand by Harry's side and gazed down at that thin face for a moment before turning to Draco. “It's my fault any of this ever happened,” Roy answered his voice surprisingly strong for his tone of despair.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, trying to keep his eyes on both Lord Keita and Roy at the same time.

“To be more precise,” Lord Keita answered him. “It's my fault.”

“I already knew that, you kidnapped me remember?”

“No, I meant before that,” Roy said. “When James was still alive. It's true I left because of my father hated me because I turned. But that was because I asked for it. I knew of the contract, and I wanted nothing to do with it. It was selfish of me, but I couldn't help it. I didn't know that it would be James that would have to Bond, I thought we had more time. But then, he fell in love with your father and I thought perhaps I had done the right thing after all. In those days I watched over James from afar, I watch him grow and become a great man. When Lucius and he broke up, I knew it was because of the coming war...” Roy trailed off and shot a look Draco didn't see at Lord Keita and then returned his gaze to Harry.

“I summoned Ryo back to Japan, then,” Lord Keita continued Roy's story. “I was well aware of the changing tides going on in Britain. I didn't want vampires being pulled into the war. Ryo asked for permission to stay and protect James-san, and I denied him. Being as I am his Creator, he could not so willing disobey me. And he never did. He blames himself for James-san's death and me as well. But he'll never get over the fact that he wasn't strong enough to disobey, just once, for the sake of his brother's life.”

Draco looked at Roy who was staring at him, and the vampire spoke. “The butterfly's wings can start the hurricane.” Draco could see where Roy was coming from, the guilt that this was entirely fault, but he still didn't trust his motives, not when he was so cold to Harry earlier.

“I don't understand, why do you want to help him now? When he needed it last time you refused.”

Roy looked at Harry when he spoke. “He really does look just like him.”

“He hates it when people say that,” Draco interjected, trying to move Roy along.

“I suppose he would. But he is nothing like James other than in that respect. I can't let him die, I couldn't save James, but I may be able to save a part of James. If I were to ever die and granted to good fortune of following James he'd never forgive me. I want to see what kind of man this extraordinary boy turns out to be.”

Draco found this answer acceptable, but there was still the matter of how. “But how?”

“Vampire blood has certain healing quailites that most are unaware of,” Lord Keita answered. “A drop of blood can heal the weak, a drizzle can revive the dead. Too much, and they'll have that power, too. But there are certain risks. Vampire blood is mostly never tried to heal with because-”

“Of how potent it is. 95% of humans cannot stand it, because their blood it too weak,” Draco interjected. He remembered reading about it in one of his father's potions books now. The 95% of people who had had vampire blood for medical purposes died almost instantly. Those that lived all had blood from their kin.

Lord Keita nodded. “Your blood is rather strong, I believe, but there is never anyway to be sure.”

“This...this is so...” he looked to Roy. “How did you react when you changed?”

“He was rather calm,” Lord Keita replied.

“I asked him!” Draco shouted, then turned frantically to Roy. “How did you react?”

“It hurt...my body dying hurt, but Keita-sama tells me the level of pain I experienced was significantly lower than most.”

This could work. This could work. Harry could wake up and this would all be over. Draco thought. This could work. But what if it doesn't? Then what? Then I would have killed Harry, and the baby. How would I live with myself knowing that I killed the two people I love more than anything? But...I've got to try. The Healers don't know what's happening, they aren't talking, but I know it's not good. No, I have to do this. For Harry, and for the baby.

Draco turned to Roy to tell him his decision when a voice called his name. “Draco?” Hermione and Ron stood awkwardly in the doorway looking at the vampires, Harry and then Draco. Hermione took the scene in once more and her eyes widened.

Shit, she knows! Draco knew she was too smart for her own good. Quickly, he pulled his wand out and blasted the door shut, casting the most complicated locking charm he knew and a ward that sent the two fly backwards.

“Draco!” Hermione screamed from outside. “Draco, you can't be serious! You can't do this, it won't work!”

“Shut up!” He roared back then barked at Roy, “Do it!”

Outside Draco could hear the Healers rushing about trying to get inside, Hermione and Ron's cries for him to not to do it. The noise was making his head hurt. “Shit. Shit! Shit shit shit!” Draco cried pacing a short length. He looked at Roy who wasn't moving and yelled at him. “What are you doing!?”

“Come hold his hand,” Roy told him, pointing to the other side of the bed. Draco looked at the hand and walked slowly over to the side of the bed.

He picked the hand up cautiously; afraid he might break it if he squeezed to hard. The hand was cold and pale, but it still held life. Draco bent down, leaning over Harry he pressed a small kiss to his lips. He then moved to speak in his ear. “I'm sorry, love,” he whispered. “But I have to try. I love you. If this doesn't work out, please wait for me.” He rested a hand of the bulging belly and moved to speak to it. “And you too. Daddy's really loves you, okay?” He let his forehead fall on the stomach and let it sit there for a moment, trying to rein in his tears. He took in a deep breath, sat up, and nodded to the waiting Roy.

The blond watched Harry's face as Roy lifted his wrist to his mouth and bit down lightly. He let a drop of blood from then reached to open Harry's mouth. Draco didn't look away as the blood fell onto the waiting tongue. The room stared at Harry, outside the ward had been broken, the locking charms were falling, but it was too late.

Everything was still, no one moved, not Draco, not Roy, or Lord Keita, and more importantly, Harry. Draco opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the room was filled with a terrible scream.

+++

Perhaps he was dying. That's it, he must be dying now. For so long he'd laid there, listening to Draco and Hermione and Ron, and the Healers. He listened to them talk about nonsense, as if he were actually able to respond or laugh or even nod in response. No, he was forced to lie there no matter how many times he wanted to soothe Draco's worries or hold him, or laugh at something Ron had said or congratulate Hermione on another deed.

But now, he insides were twisting, his blood was boiling, he must not be able to handle Roy's blood. He must be dying.

But, what was this feeling in his stomach? Like he was about to...give birth...

His baby! Oh, God, his baby! It was coming and coming now. But how could he let anyone know? He couldn't even open his eyes! But his mouth, the pain...

+++

“What the hell is happening!?” Draco yelled, throwing the covers off Harry, as the boy began twisting on the bed.

“The blood must have gone to the child first!” Roy answered. “I think he's going into labour...”

Just then the door burst open and a frantic Hermione took in the scene. “Harry! Oh, God!”

“Get a Healer quick! He's going into labour!” Draco cried.

Healer Pomfrey rushed in, almost knocking Hermione over. “Put of the way!” She threw Harry's legs open and seemed to be inspecting something. “His canal hasn't fully formed; this is going to be a particularly difficult birth.” She turned the room, “Everyone but Mr. Malfoy out! NOW!”

“But-” Ron spluttered but he was ushered out by Lord Keita and Roy. Two medi-wicthes entered and began preparing for the birth.

“That was a very stupid thing you did,” Healer Pomfrey said to Draco as she adjusted Harry.

“I know! I just...I couldn't let him die there!” Draco cried, squeezing Harry's hand hard.

“I know,” she answered, briefly looking at Harry's face before going about transfiguring the bed to make the birth easier. “Just talk him through it, this baby isn't waiting.”

+++

It's okay, Draco. You did the right thing. So much Harry wanted to utter these words to him, but he couldn't he could only scream. Why couldn't he wake up? Would he be unable to hold his baby when it was born? To look upon it's shiny little face and smile?

Oh, God, it hurt though! His insides felt as if they were being ripped apart. He needed drugs or something! He could feel the baby moving swiftly for exiting and he could only wish it would slow down. He wasn't ready. He didn't want to be ready, this hurt too much. God, someone get things thing out of him! NOW.

Draco's hand was on his face, smoothing the hair away and he wiping the sweat that had formed on his brow.

FUCK!

+++

Draco whispered to Harry that he was doing fine, that it wouldn't be long now and to just hang in there. He moved his hand from Harry's to grab a cloth only to have a hand seize his wrist. Draco looked down in astonishment at Harry's hand gripping his wrist so hard his knuckles were white.

“Harry?” Draco watched Harry's face furrow in pain and his eyes snapped opened. He opened his mouth, about to speak, but instead he threw his head back and screamed, eyes shut tightly once more. “Harry!” Draco cried, trying to pry his wrist away from the death iron grip and look the boy in the face.

“Drugs!” Harry screamed. “Give me drugs! Morphine! Vicodin! Codeine! Heroin!”

Healer Pomfrey didn't look up when she spoke. “I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, that's not possible. But the harder you push, the faster this will be over.”

Harry grunted and did as she said.

“That's it Harry, it's going to be okay. We'll get through this,” Draco murmured.

“Like hell!” Harry answered. “You aren't the one having the damned thing!”

“I know, Harry, but that can't be helped right now. Just push, okay!?”

“Fuck you, Malfoy!” Harry yelled trying to push, yell, and breath and the same time. “Never again! I'm never letting you touch me again!”

“You can't be serious, Harry,” Draco answered, trying to distract him from the pain. “You can't resist me!”

“I'll kill you! I swear to Merlin once your fucking spawn is out of my makeshift weird ass vag I will fucking kill you!” Harry lurched forwards as if to grab Draco round the neck but fell back on the bed when the baby breached.

“Mr. Malfoy's! Please!” Healer Pomfrey chastised. “We have part of a head, please keep pushing Mr. Malfoy!”

“Oh, God!” Harry yelled sweat dripping from every pore of his body, as he tried to excavate the small child currently trying to kill him. He squeezed Draco's hand and began to chant. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” before growing tired of that and switching to “I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you.”

Draco responded both times with “Lies, lies, lies.”

“Go to hell, Malfoy,” Harry answered the second time. He gave a push and gasped, “Just go to, HELL!”

“We have a full head!” Healer Pomfrey cried.

“Come on, Harry, just a little more and it will all be over.”

Harry didn't respond immediately, focusing instead on pushing. When Healer Pomfrey cried out that it was just one more good push and he's be done Harry answered Draco. “Yes, just a little more and your life will be over, Draco.”

“Er...” Draco began, but was unable to finish when Harry sat up and screamed once more.

“It's a boy!” Healer Pomfrey congratulated. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and lay back, closing his eyes. Healer Pomfrey took the new baby boy to clean it and set it in the records. There was a little slap and suddenly the cry of a new born filled the room.

Draco stroked Harry's cheek slowly and Harry smiled. “Draco,” he said.

“What is it, love?”

“I love you,” Harry answered, reaching up to take the man's hand. “Thank you for waking me up.”

Draco's breath caught. “Harry, I-”

“Don't worry about it, love. Not now anyway, now we have a little baby boy.”

“Mr. Malfoy?” Healer Pomfrey carried the child over to Harry. “Your son.” Harry reached out and took the screaming boy from the Healer. “Do you have a name?”

Draco looked at Harry and Harry looked from him to the child. “Yes,” Harry answered, between shushing the child.

“You do?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, Altair. Altair James Malfoy. If that's okay?” Harry looked at Draco.

“It's perfect,” Draco smiled. “I imagine you've just made my mother very happy.”

“Altair, then,” Harry said looking at the boy. “Hello, Altair, welcome to the family.” The screams quieted, then, and Draco swore he saw his son smile.

+++

“Harry, are you ready to go?” Draco called up the stairs in the Manor, hoping his Bonded could even hear him.

“Just another moment, will you? This bloody tie isn't working properly!” Harry called down as he walked towards the stairs.

“I told you to let me do it for yo-omph!” Draco's breath was knocked out of him when something tackled him from the side to the ground. “Al!” Draco barked. “How in the world did you manage to knock me to the ground?”

The little boy giggled. “Granmum says you have to have the element of surprise to defeat your opponent!”

“Does she?” Draco asked lifting the boy and initiating a game of airplane. “And have you defeated me?”

“Yes!” Al answered sticking his arms out.

“I think not!” Draco cried rolling over and setting Al on the floor he began to tickle the child mercilessly. Al shrieked with laughter trying fruitlessly to get his dad to stop, he clutched his stomach and tried to roll around. “Don't think you're going to get away from me that easily you little brat! Look what you've done to my hair!”

“You have ugly hair!” Al cried laughing.

Draco mocked gasp. “I think you've been spending too much time with Ron Weasely!”

“Draco!” Harry called coming down the stairs. “What are you doing to my son?”

“Teaching him a lesson,” Draco replied. “He said I have ugly hair!”

“Help me Daddy!” Al cried, still trapped by Draco.

“Oh, I'll help all right,” Harry answered, then began tickling Al as well.

“Gah!” Al cried laughing as both his parents tickled him. “Papa! Daddy! Stop, stop!”

Draco laughed as did Harry, unheeding their child's protests.

“Boys!” Narcissa walked in the room. “You had better stop torturing my grandson and get going or you'll be late.”

“Granmum!” Al cried racing for the woman when his fathers' weren't looking.

“Alright, Mother,” Draco answered getting off the floor and hauling Harry up with him, ignoring the indignant `hey!' “We're leaving, we're leaving,” Draco told her.

Harry yanked his arm from Draco and walked over to Al. He picked the boy up, and said, “You be good for your grandmother, you hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Al answered trying to sneer, but his green eyes still held their usual childlike twinkle.

“Hey, who taught you to make that face?” Harry asked, peering at his son.

“No one, I saw Papa do it to this man in the store and the man got scared! So I learned how to so I could scare away Uncle Dudley!”

“Altair!” Harry sighed. “Never mind, we'll talk about this later.” He kissed him on the forehead and set him down.

Draco bent down next to the boy and whispered. “Don't worry. We'll work on it.” Al nodded seriously. Then he said loudly. “Good night, Al.” Kissed his head, and stood. “Good night, Mother,” he kissed her cheek.

“Good night, Draco,” she answered.

“Good night, Mother,” Harry kissed her as well.

“Good night, Harry, do well tonight,” she said.

“I'll try,” he answered. “Night, Al.”

“Night Daddy!” Al said, then turned to Draco. “Good night...Old man!” Al shrieked laughter and ran away, his white blond hair bouncing as he ran. Draco called for him to get back there but was largely ignored.

“What a little brat,” Draco said as they headed outside.

“Where do you think he gets it from?” Harry answered, laughing.

“You of course, I was never so rambunctious as a child,” Draco said.

“A right load of shit, that is. Your mother told me everything. Even about the time you got your head stuck in that tree full of squirrels.”

“Augh, she told you that, too?” Draco cried. “That's so embarrassing!”

“Anyway, we do need to hurry; Aunt Petunia and Snape are waiting for us.”

“Can't you just call him Severus like an adult? You're 23-years-old, Harry,” Draco asked, steeping through the gate.

“No!” Harry answered. “No, his name is Professor Snape!”

“Well, I guess he'd be your Uncle now, though...”

“Shut up!” Harry cried, covering his ears. “Oh, shit, Draco, do you have my speech?”

“Yep, right here. Do you still want to stop before...?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered softly.

Together they apparated, appearing side by side outside a darkened cemetery. Draco steeped forward and undid the gates, the hinges protesting and groaning loudly. Harry stepped through and began walking through the rows of graves and tombs until he came upon a single crypt in the middle of the graveyard. He opened the door and lit the torches on the wall, Draco followed in quietly.

Harry took out a miniature bouquet of flowers and returned them to normal size. He laid them on the risen coffin softly. “Thank you,” he whispered. Eyes stinging, he wasn't going to cry, but he damned sure felt like it. He reached blindly for Draco's hand and Draco squeezed it reassuringly.

They turned silently and left, they walked to the apparition point like that. Before apparating Harry turned to Draco and said.

“Thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“Because without you, I wouldn't be here right now, alive, with the most amazing child in the world, or the most amazing husband, or going to celebrate Voldemort's death. I just wanted to tell you thank you, and that I love you.”

They kissed briefly, before Draco pulled away and said, “Well, I love you too, but I didn't do all that much.”

“Remember the butterfly's wings can start the hurricane,” Harry said.

“I believe your uncle Roy said that once,” Draco answered with a smirk.

“Ew! I don't want to quote him!” Harry laughed. “But I actually heard it from that Seer.”

“Well, it's still his fault you know it then,” Draco returned.

“Ugh, I don't want to talk about this anymore, let's go.” With that Harry apparated.

“Whatever you say, love.” Draco said to the empty graveyard. He looked at the crypt once more and apparated as well.

A/N: So, that's it. Thanks for reading and sticking out this very long wait, and not really getting much in return lol! Hope to see you all again in another fic!!! On a side note, does anyone want to find me a job?