Angel on the cover

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Hermione led the way to the water closet, her heart beating frantically in her chest at the excitement of the last few minutes. Draco stepped into the room and, surprisingly, allowed her to remain in the open doorway.



She watched him rinse his mouth, wetting a fresh washcloth and passing it over his pale face. Hermione thought for a moment, weighing her options. It had been reckless to uproot him and drag him to their home without his consent. She knew that she had interfered enough all ready, but the protector in her rose to his defence after the tears that Harry’s proximity caused.



“Draco.”



He didn’t acknowledge her but she continued.



“I promise to let you go. There are no conditions tied to that, but before I do, can you please, please listen if Harry explains?” she pleaded.



“No.” There was no hesitation in his icy response.



“I understand you’re angry, but can you really walk out of here without knowing why? Without a reason to give your child?”



“Don’t you dare tell him, Granger!” he threatened.



“I won’t,” she assured him, “but what do you plan to say when your child asks for his father?”



“Tell him the truth-- that he was a bastard who abandoned me after professing to love me until he died. Funny, isn’t it? He looked pretty alive to me.” He laughed humourlessly.



Draco sat on the toilet seat, wringing the wet cloth in his shaking hands.



“But he didn’t abandon the baby. He doesn’t know that he’s going to be a father.”



“He doesn’t deserve to know. He crept out in the middle of the night with no warning or so much as a bloody goodbye. The only reason he didn’t technically abandon the baby was because he didn’t know-- the result would have been the same”.



He dug the heel of his palm in his forehead, trying to massage away the discomfort of an oncoming headache.



“Why am I still here?”



The question was soft but Hermione was able to hear it. Feeling anxious at his imminent departure, she made one last attempt:



“He’s stupid, okay? I can almost guarantee you that whatever reason he has for disappearing is foolish-- that he thought it was for the best. I don’t know the reasons. I would have offered them up to you long before if I did. But I do know that he’s here right now-- that he ran back at the first sign you were in trouble.”



“So it was all a ploy to drive him out of hiding?” he accused bitterly.



“None of this was planned. Ron just-- I don’t know what he thought. I don’t know what I was thinking either…” she trailed off, grasping at the words that fought in her brain, searching for the right ones.



“He loves you,” she said finally with none of the hesitance of the moment before. “You should have seen him when he told us about you. It was like a declaration of war and to Ron it may as well have been. Harry declaring his allegiance to you and, by default, his separation from us.” She took a deep breath.



“He was so adamant that you were the one. That he had finally found someone who didn’t love him for being the poor, pitiful Boy-Who-Lived-- but in spite of it. That it didn’t matter what we said or did; that he wasn’t going to let you go.”



Hermione’s eyes were moist, remembering the passionate declaration of love her best friend had made those years before. The megawatt smile when she’d reassured him that they were still his friends and would support him. She was his friend, and she couldn’t stand by as the love of his life disappeared with their child. She had to at least give him the chance to explain.



Draco was bent forward on the seat, head propped in his hands.



“He even told Ron that he loved you more than Quidditch.”



Draco finally lifted his head to look at her at the comment. “Figures the only way that lummox would understand was through some sport related analogy.”



Hermione pretended not to see the tears glistening on his cheeks and agreed, smiling ruefully. “Sometimes you just have to talk to him in a manner he’ll understand.”



Her composure broke. “Please, Draco. Harry leaps without thinking sometimes, but he doesn’t do anything by halves– he loves you. It was written all over his face. If we had hurt you, he would not have hesitated to hex us.”



“Fine, I’ll listen.” His expression promised that he wouldn’t do much more.



“Thank you.” With a quick motion she hurried out to the living room.



As he watched her leave, Draco hoped he was making the right decision.



X x X x X x



“Where have you been, man?” Ron asked. “And why do you look like a bum? Have you been living on the streets?”



“No, Ron. I’ve been living in a flat in New York.” Harry craned his neck over the sofa trying to look for any sign of Draco. “Do you think he’s okay?”



“Hermione’s going to help him.” Ron glanced at the hallway, wondering what his wife was telling Draco.



“What’s wrong with him, Ron? Do you know?” Harry asked frantically. “Why did you have him tied up in your living room?”



“Why did you leave?” Ron countered.



“I had to. It’s complicated.”



“Same here, mate.” Ron responded, shrugging his shoulders.



“What do you mean? You had him tied to a chair in your living room-- what happened?” Harry said tersely.

Noticing the crossed arms across the red head’s chest, he recognised it as the motion he did when he would not budge on something.



“Did you guys tell him about the account?” Harry tried instead.



Ron relaxed a bit. “We did and not for lack of sacrifice on my part, let me tell you.”



“Why? Didn’t you just deliver it to the flat?” Harry asked, trying to peel away Ron’s melodrama to understand the situation.



“Because, mate, he disappeared too. A month after you left and we couldn’t reach him. He became a Muggle model, you know.”



“I know, the newspaper said as much,” Harry replied, unfolding the forgotten article from his pocket.



“How has he been?” he pleaded.



“I don’t know, Harry. We didn’t have too long to talk, really,” Ron replied evasively. “I think you screwed up, Harry, big time. I hope you still have time to fix this, but maybe you should clean up first. You look scruffier than usual. I think an owl could build a nest in that.” He pointed to Harry’s head.



“It’s the cheap shampoo,” he shrugged, trying to smooth down his hair. “I didn’t want to waste too much money….”



“So he would have more of it,” Ron finished for him. “You’ve got to talk to him, mate.”



The sound of footsteps caught their attention and both watched as Hermione appeared at the beginning of the hallway, not slowing down until she reached Harry’s side.



Ron watched as his wife dug her delicate fingers into the collar of the saviour of the Wizarding world and pulled him up until their noses were touching.



“You’re going to walk in there and you’re going to explain yourself.” Her voice left little room for question.



“Hermione, I know you’re trying to help--” Harry attempted to reason.



She shook him, cutting him short. “If you don’t do this, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your miserable life, and while you’ll be oblivious, I’ll know everything and it will haunt me to the rest of my days. Get in there.”



Harry looked at Ron, begging for assistance, but his friend shook his head. “Go, Harry. Draco deserves more than a vault full of money. He deserves the know the truth from the guy who claimed he loved him.”



Harry’s eyes widened in surprise at Ron’s defence of Draco. It warmed his heart, but scared him even more. What was happening to his lover?



“Ok, Hermione. You can let go now.”



She let go only with Ron’s help to unclench her fingers. She sat on the couch next to her husband. He held her as her tears soaked his shirt.





X x X x X x X x

The steps down the hall seemed so long. The nerves that ate at Harry were worst than the ones when he confronted Voldemort. The bathroom door was closed and he tested the knob with a shaky hand only to find it locked.



“I can hear you from here.” Draco’s voice sounded odd, but he could hear him clearly.



He laid his forehead on the door.



“Draco?” He closed his eyes briefly. “It started a month before I left. I didn’t understand what was happening and I couldn’t control it.”



Draco dug his nails into his palms on the other side of the door. This is where Harry confessed to screwing around his back. Did he really want to hear this?



“During the whole thing with Voldemort I had them, but I knew that he was making those happen. But this was different,” Harry continued. “I was having real visions, Draco.



“They were kind of amusing at first. I knew about Ron’s promotion before he did. Hell, I even knew about Remus and Snape before they told us.”



Draco massaged his abused palms, relieved he had assumed wrong, but not understanding why Harry was rambling on about visions.



“A week before…before I left, I had one about y-you,” Harry stumbled over his words, and Draco went closer to the door to better hear him.



“It always begins with you. You’re in pain, and you’re screaming. My hands are covered in your blood, and Snape is screaming that it’s my fault, and all I see is your pale face. I kill you, Draco. I’m responsible for killing you.” It was a hoarse whisper.



“I love you so much. I never stopped, but I couldn’t continue to be by your side, knowing I’m going to be your destruction if I’m around. Do you understand?”



“A vision, Harry? A vision? You put me through the agony of having you gone, all this bloody uncertainty for a fucking vision?!” Draco couldn’t hold on to his emotions any longer.



He banged his fist on the door. Harry didn’t move away from the spot even though Draco’s blows made the wood meet his head.



“But all the other ones came true. If I left, you could have a better life. I’m the reason…the reason…. I see you die. With me gone, your life would be better. I cost you your friends-- I cost you everything,” he tried to explain.



“Does it look like I’ve been better? If this vision is true, I would have died and the baby would have been an orphan. You would be hiding somewhere while your child was given to the highest person in the Ministry with ambitions to hold a high standing in the Wizarding World.”



“Baby?” Harry’s voice hit a higher register that it hadn’t since puberty.



He changed positions quickly and fell to his knees, pressed against the door.



“Draco? Draco, please open the door,” he begged.



“No,” came a tearful reply.



“Please? Please open the door.”



He remained kneeling for a while, his legs going numb from the restrained blood flow. He didn’t think Draco would open the door willingly, but he was willing to wait.



The door opened suddenly; Harry went forward a bit until he was able to catch his balance.



“Draco?” The blond stood away from the door, the back of his legs pressed against the tub.



“Don’t come closer,” he warned, holding up his hand while the other cradled the slight bump in his belly that Harry had not noticed before.



“Merlin, Draco! Pregnant? I left you alone and pregnant?” Harry’s eyes were teary and he was filled with self loathing.



“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I will always love you and the thought of you having my child is…indescribable, but me being here right now is dangerous to you both. I have to go. I’m sorry.” He backed out of the room ready to flee.



“Don’t you dare run now, Potter. Don’t you dare!” Draco commanded.



Harry looked at him, knowing it was a mistake to linger for more than a moment but unable to leave the sight of the man he loved behind, the man that guarded his child underneath his heart.



This would be the last time he saw both of them and then he would never know if he had a son or daughter. He would never see their first steps, or hear them call him daddy. This pain felt worse than any torture or Crucio ever had, but he had to be strong.



“I’m so angry at you right now,” Draco began furiously, “but if I’m going to die, I’d rather die with you by my side than alone.”



“If I’m here….”



“Damn you! You can’t run from this! You’re going to be there! Be there for your child and for me! And if at some point it causes my demise, then so be it, but you will be there until my end. Do you understand, Potter?!” his demand ended broken up by the sobs that were now escaping his mouth.



Harry ached to draw the shuddering form into his arms, but he wasn’t sure if Draco would accept it. He didn’t move, trying to decide, when Draco made the decision for him. Draco threw himself in Harry’s lap, arms clutched tightly around his neck.



Whispering furiously in his neck, he murmured, “Im not going to let you get away.”



Harry dropped his head onto the blond hair and let his own tears fall.