Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Shards Of His Beloved	By : EvilConcubine Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 18387 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
To thrnbrooke: Yes, Draco is quite bitter. Thanks for reviewing!

To dominique1: Thanks for all your reviews!

To TalisRuadair: You'll get many answers in this new chapter ;). Thank you!

To september: It's so good to know! Thanks!

To Annette19: Thank you! It's already here, enjoy! :)

To Moon: Thanks a lot! ;)

To moodysavage: Haha! Thank you very much :)!

To Grey_Archangel: It means a lot to me :) ! Thank you! What of Scorpius, you'll find out soon.

To AFFreader: Thanks for reviewing! The new chapter will answer your questions.

To elleanora: Wow! I'm so glad, thank you :)!

To Sparrowbirdie: Thank you so much! They, indeed, do have feelings for each other and have had them for quite a long time, but admitting them to themselves isn't quite easy; Harry is making a progress, though :)

To Sera21: Well, it's not quite easy, having two children and not willing to hurt them. Ginny is their mother and Harry respects her for, even if all their feelings towards each other are gone. We'll have to wait some more. Thanks for reviewing! :)

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11. Restarting Your Heart

"It's Christmas and you look like it's someone's funeral," Hermione smiled softly, entering the small room that she usually used for reading, sitting comfortably on the sofa or in the armchair. The room was connected with her study, and sometimes, when she had too much work to do, she even slept on this sofa, feeling too exhausted to drag herself upstairs to the bedroom, especially when Ron was away. Harry smiled back weakly.

"Just needed a few minutes of silence," he replied. He'd spent some time, celebrating with friends and family in the Burrow and then most of them had moved to Hermione's and Ron's house. It was evening, so Al and James had been put to sleep in one of the rooms together with Teddy and Bill's and Fleur's Victoire.

"Mind if I join you?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, not," Harry smiled again. She sat down in the armchair and visibly relaxed.

"How are you?" she asked several long moments later. She wasn't sure he wanted to unburden his heart right now, but decided to try to encourage him. After all, they were alone here, everyone was busy with celebration, and, frankly, they hadn't had a chance to really talk to each other lately.

"Moderately lousy."

"I see... Draco," she nodded.

"Merlin, why am I always so obvious?" he frowned, but softened rather quickly.

"You're not. I just know that he means a lot to you and you're thinking about him, knowing that he's alone in Grimmauld Place right now."

"And you say I'm not obvious?" Harry chuckled bitterly.

"I'm not blind, Harry. I know that Ginny and you are unhappy together, and I see how you look at Draco. You've been looking at him like this since our sixth year. You look at him like the sun would just go out without him. At first I thought it was gone, but as soon as I asked you to buy him... Even Ginny had suspected it back in our sixth year; it was one of the reasons she wasn't happy about the idea of him living with you."

"Oh, really? It's not her place to judge. Do you know she has a lover?"

"I... I've suspected it." Hermione bit her lip slightly.

"The thing is... I don't even care if she likes or even loves someone else. We argue all the time, but I wish her well. I've not been the best husband; quite the opposite, actually. Gods, I'm in love with the other person and I have probably been in love with him for years; so she has every right to find someone else. I hope he's good to her..." Harry said sincerely.

"What are you going to do?"

"I wish I knew," he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sometimes I think... If my annoying conscience was less persistent, I wouldn't stand it... I wouldn't be able to resist temptation and just... just used my power to make him love me. No, of course, it's impossible to obtain any real feelings that way. But I'd made him let me love him. Fuck, if only he could hear me right now... I have too much power over him. It's inadmissible."

"Harry, we both know you'd never abuse this power."

"I'm so fucked. He hates me more than anything in this world and probably dreams about me dying in agony," he sighed again. But, as soon as he'd said that, he knew immediately that it wasn't true. It had probably been close to truth in the beginning, but now... Draco was hardly even acting hostile anymore, even if provoked. No, it wasn't hatred. It was worse... Draco didn't care any longer. He was absolutely unresponsive. Even Ginny was surprised and confused as he'd stopped arguing with her in any possible way. It had become even worse since Scorpius' birthday more than a month and a half ago. "It feels like Draco himself is dying slowly. I don't know what to do. I can't imagine him surviving this for fourteen more years. I can't imagine myself surviving this, either. I don't know how to help him. He refuses to take anything from me. He throws back in my face everything I'm trying to give him. Well... figuratively. Merlin, today at the door of my bedroom I found the Christmas gift I'd left for him. He hadn't even opened it. The same thing happens to all my attempts to talk to him. He doesn't even sneer at me or glare at me any longer. Sometimes I'm not sure that Draco's still in his body. I thought it was bad when I knew he was crying and cutting himself, but now that he doesn't do even those anymore..." Harry stopped talking and shook his head. He felt tongue-tied, as if there weren't enough words to let him express what he felt, but there was understanding in Hermione's eyes.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," she whispered sympathetically. "I didn't think it would be this hard for you. Look... If it's really this unbearable, and I can see that it is, I'll take him. Now that I don't have Babette... I have a right to have another slave."

"It's not going to help him. He won't feel any better with you, I'm sure of it," Harry refused. He knew she meant well and he knew she would treat Draco right, but her offer had made him feel possessive. However, if there really was a chance that living somewhere else could help his suffering beloved out of his severe depression, Harry would let him go; with a heavy heart, but he would. After all, the law allowed it, allowed selling or just giving a slave to someone else with the help of a ritual that transferred a slave into the ownership of another master. If the Ministry allowed it officially (why wouldn't it?), an Enchanter performed the required ritual and that easy a slave became a property of someone else. Harry shivered, still feeling too uneasy about such things. And thank Merlin that he was feeling this way, because he didn't want to start considering such things normal, even though it was a part of his life now. But he knew that a measure like that wouldn't make any real difference for Draco and altogether could even make things worse, because Draco would have to get used to the new environment.

"But it would probably make you feel better. You worry all the time, you're exhausted."

"And if he lived somewhere else, you think I'd stop worrying? Out of sight, out of mind? No, it's not that case."

"I know. I just thought you might need a break."

"I do need a break, but not like this."

"Well," Hermione sighed. "All you can really do is give him something to live for."

"If only it was that simple. Still no news about Scorpius. I'm starting to think that we'll never find him or learn what's really happened to him."

"Start considering getting professional help for Draco. He'll be angry at you, but you might have no choice if it won't get any better."

     Draco was sitting on the windowsill in the library, looking down at the snow-covered street, his eyes fixed on one spot absently. There was almost nobody in the streets, because most people were celebrating Christmas with their families or friends. Draco was absolutely fine with being alone here, in the house of his maternal ancestors. Semiramis, who was sitting on the windowsill next to him, pouted, seeing that his mind was somewhere else. To remind him that he wasn't alone here and that she didn't like to be ignored, she put her heavy paw on his shin and protracted her sharp claws, digging them into his flesh hard enough to pierce the fabric of his trousers and hurt him, but not hard enough to draw blood. Draco flinched, turned to her and frowned.

"Are you going to drink or not?" she demanded. He remembered about the glass of absinthe in his hand. "Too potent for you?" she smirked. "It's my favourite. Well, come on, drink!"

"Merlin..." he sighed and took another sip of the green spirit, scrunching his face a little. Semiramis had got this bottle as a present from Potter along with the pair of sapphire and gold earrings that she currently wore. Potter's wife had given the sphinx the ornate casket, made from a fine, dark wood. Semiramis had also got the picture of herself, drawn by Al, but even if she'd forced a poor excuse of a smile not to hurt the feelings of the human cub, she'd quickly hidden the 'ugly daub' somewhere between the books on one of the bookshelves in her room, hoping not to see it ever again.

     She emitted a purr of contentment after another sip.

"It's good. The wizarding brand. Though, it doesn't taste really different from muggle brands. Wizards just use different methods of growing wormwood for it and add an extra couple of herbs," she explained.

"I'm not this enthusiastic about alcohol, sorry," Draco replied apathetically.

"You don't understand, human. It's not just some alcohol. It was traditionally a drink of artists, actors and poets. People even dedicated their works to this exquisite drink. Have you ever seen Maignan's painting, called 'Green Muse' or Oliva's 'The Absinth Drinker'? Oh, they are both muggle, so they are not animated, obviously, but they look just amazing. And there are a lot more than those two."

"There's no need to eulogise it to me. Looks like you're always waiting for holidays only to get drunk on this green booze. And if you want to drink it any other day, you just find some holiday in the retrospect of ancient history, using the memory of your ancestors; any holiday that doesn't exist any longer," he murmured, unable to share her rapture.

"I'm not getting drunk, foolish human, I just drink to relax. Not really often, by the way; and you make it sound like I'm some kind of a sot. I know when to stop," she assured with a scowl.

"I just don't understand why you always use holidays as an excuse. You can drink any time; every day if you wish," Draco said, slightly amused.

"But I have a liver, too, you know," she shrugged. "And don't look at me like I'm some kind of abnormality. You have no idea what my ancestors were doing during the festivals, dedicated to Dionysus."

"I'm afraid to even imagine, so don't let me see the images of it with my inner eye. I'm sure no upholstered furniture was ever left unharmed after their debauches," Draco sighed, pressing his hand against the chest dramatically. Semiramis chuckled.

"Let's drink. Merry Christmas, human. Oh... You're a wizarding traditionalist, so merry Winter Solstice, then," she corrected herself.

"And to you," he replied quietly.

     Semiramis prepared more absinth, 'properly', as she asserted, placing the sugar cube on top of the special silver spoon that, in turn, was placed on top of the glass, then she filled the glass with absinthe, soaking the cube with it at the same time. She set the sugar ablaze with the spell and let it fall into the glass in several moments. The fire was extinguished with the other spell. And after stirring the drink with the spoon it was prepared. All of it had been done with magic. Semiramis was good in levitation, because it obviously was impossible to do all these things with paws. The sphinx used magic quite often. With the help of her non-verbal and certainly wandless magic she preened herself: brushed her hair, spelled some make up on her face, put on bodices or brassieres to support her human-like breasts (at least, the upper pair of them was human-like), wrapped one of her many silk attires around her lion-like body and, of course, put on jewellery she liked so much. Using magic, she helped herself to eat and drink and turned pages when she read. In other words, she used it in her everyday life, but her magic seemed quite limited; on the other hand, there probably was no particular reason for her to show all her magical potential, so Draco wasn't sure what she was capable of.

     He drank a bit more of her 'green happiness', but soon enough excused himself, thanked her and went to his room. He felt dizzy and he actually didn't feel any happier or less distressed. His thoughts were full of the time he'd spent with his family one year ago when they'd celebrated the holiday together. It had been just a family dinner, only more lavish and a bit more joyful than any usual dinner. Of course, there'd been presents, not too expensive or remarkable (it hadn't been quite easy to get anything really special in their situation), but it really had felt enough. And Scorpius had looked happy... It had been so good when they were together, all four of them, even if they'd been in hiding. Draco's mother had organised all holidays with the help of their elf, the only one they'd had whilst hiding in France, and Narcissa had always succeeded in making her dearest men happier, especially her grandson, who had been very easy to please, due to his age. Her family had always been her soft spot and she'd loved all of them selflessly, no matter how strict and sometimes even disdainful she'd been with other people. Draco had probably inherited it from her. He looked at the picture of his parents, the only one he had, and sighed. Holidays were unbearable now and felt like they were sucking the very soul out of him.

     It was the end of very uneventful January when Harry received the firecall he'd been waiting for so long; the firecall from Eleos Benedict March.

     The next day just refused to come sooner and Harry couldn't sleep at all, highly anxious. And, surprisingly, he felt too much of a coward right now to tell Draco the important news he had for him. In the morning, when Draco entered the kitchen and saw that it was cleaned, and all the dishes, left from the previous day, had been washed, he decided that Potter was taking him somewhere, just like a few months ago when he'd taken Draco to the dirty flat in muggle London. Potter himself was sitting at the table, having his breakfast. Draco's was already prepared as well.

"Morning, Draco," Harry greeted.

"Good morning," Draco replied, unemotionally and quietly, which had been typical of him lately. He noticed that Potter looked a bit tense and was hardly looking at Draco at all. The blond didn't care, though. He ate his breakfast and only then Potter looked at him briefly.

"I want you to come with me," he said softly.

"Yes, Master."

     They apparated to some muggle city. Draco hadn't noticed that Harry had used the portkey that looked like a coin with the stamped image of some famous auror of the past. Aurors used such portkeys to give them to their colleagues that didn't know exact locations of places where they required to get to. Those portkeys guaranteed the safe apparition to a certain place. This one Harry had received from Eleos March early in the morning.

     Draco didn't know where exactly they were, but it was still England, he was sure of it. He was also sure that they weren't in London or any big city. Potter looked a bit nervous and Draco had no idea what was going on. It was quite cold and windy, the harsh snow was beating in their faces, but it didn't take them much time to get from the deserted, blind alley to the large, old, but decent, building near the old-looking church. From the brass signboard near the entrance door Draco learned that it was an orphanage.

     Dozens of children's eyes were looking up at them curiously. Draco's somewhat angelic appearance made them interested at first, but the interest faded, once they noticed his cold and unforgiving eyes that resembled the endless winter. Most grown-ups that visited their orphanage were smiling and attentive, but this stranger was as cold as ice, absolutely inapproachable and bitter throughout. It was in him and around him, so no one risked infiltrating his personal space, no matter how good-looking the young man was. The other one with green eyes looked nice and kind, and some children were running around him, asking him to play with them. Some were quite straightforward and asked him if he wanted to adopt a girl or a boy. Harry smiled at the clingy children and told them that he was here with another purpose. Draco wasn't sure why they were here. He could only assume that Saint Potter was interested in charity and this was the reason for them to visit a place like this, though he couldn't comprehend why Potter needed him here. He hoped he wouldn't be ordered to take care of these children in any way or to take part in anything equally stupid. At the same time, he thought about his son and hoped that, if he was still in some orphanage (which he couldn't help but doubt, because he was used to imagine his boy already adopted), he was in a better orphanage than this; it was a muggle place, and Draco felt ill at ease, even though he wasn't sure if wizarding orphanages were very different.

     Potter entered one of the offices after knocking; he asked Draco to wait outside, but left the door open, nevertheless. There, in the office, was the woman, dressed in nun's clothes. It seemed all the staff here consisted of nuns. Potter approached the one that was sitting at the table in the office. Draco couldn't hear what they were talking about, but it seemed that Potter had been expected; it also seemed that he was posing as someone else. When Potter left the office (the fake smile that he'd been wearing for the woman disappeared), he nodded to Draco, which looked like a silent sign to follow him. And Draco followed.

     They went to the second floor of the building that, not surprisingly, was full of children, though there was much less of them on the second floor and they seemed to be going downstairs to the others.

     Potter entered one of the rooms in the middle of the corridor. It was children's bedroom, quite large, but it was currently empty of children, not including the small boy (or was it a girl, in the boy's sweater? It was hard to tell, seeing the child from behind and from this distance). The blond child was sitting alone on one of the farthest beds and looking in the direction of the window absently. There were a lot of completely identical beds along the walls on the left and on the right. The beds were divided from each other only by bedside tables. Just beds with no curtains around them, so the bedroom offered no privacy at all. Draco sighed internally. The walls were decorated with children's drawings, which Draco found ugly, not because sometimes it was hard to tell what exactly was drawn, but because some had been drawn with such terribly intense, bright colours that they could nearly hurt his eyes. He wondered if muggles considered such things normal. They probably did. If it was normal for them to wear ugly, shabby clothes that looked worn out even being absolutely new... At least, the bedroom seemed clean; all the beds were neatly made. But the interior interested Draco much less than their reason to be here. He couldn't explain what made him start to get nervous, but remained seemingly calm.

     Harry stopped when they weren't far away from the silent child. Draco stopped next to Harry. For some reason, Potter seemed to refrain from moving too close to the boy (yes, it was, most likely, a boy).

"Hello," Harry greeted him. The child didn't answer, but turned his small, pale face to him, looked at him shyly and cast his glance down. It was enough for Draco to see the boy's face. His heart nearly stopped, he was starting to hyperventilate and was pretty sure he was going to faint. The boy... he'd noticed the blond hair when they'd just entered, but now Draco had also seen the grey eyes, absolutely identical to his own, the pale complexion and so very familiar features, though a bit older than he'd last seen them. Seeing that Draco was shocked, pale as a ghost and stunned, Harry couldn't help but grab his hand with his own and squeeze it supportively, really wishing he could transfer some strength to his beloved through this touch. Draco didn't seem to even notice it at first. Harry squeezed it again lightly. It slowly attracted Draco's attention and he looked at Harry with wide, unbelieving eyes. His master slowly let his hand go and nodded, confirming that Draco's eyes weren't failing him. But the blond still wasn't sure if all of it was true, if it wasn't a dream or an unforgivably cruel joke.

"My name is Harry. What's yours?" Harry asked gently, as his eyes had returned to the child. The little boy didn't answer again. He looked like he was sure he was in trouble. Harry was speaking softly to assure the child that he wouldn't hurt him, but still refrained from moving closer. "They call you Rudolf Sutton, right? But you know it's not your real name, don't you?"

     Draco was still dizzy with shock, but, somewhat, capable of thinking, even if his mind was being burnt by hundreds of thoughts. How could that be? They'd changed his boy's name and placed him in a muggle orphanage! Now Draco saw that it wasn't quite the face he remembered. He remembered Scorpius' smiling and serene face, the way it looked on the picture on his bedside table. But now the boy looked intimidated and very unhappy. Draco's stomach churned and his heart sank. The boy's very presence indicated the hard times that he'd been through. He looked so insecure. 'Oh, no; oh, gods, no... Please, no. Not my boy... What have they done to my boy?!' Harry could see it, too; as well, as Draco's reaction. Something was definitely wrong with this child. The boy looked at Draco for a moment and turned away again. Draco was heartbroken - his baby didn't recognise him!

"Scorpius..." he whispered desperately, not daring to raise his voice and trying to collect himself as best as he could. The boy looked at him as if hardly understanding what was going on and why he was called 'Scorpius', though it obviously sounded familiar to him. Draco could hardly speak; he forced the words out of himself, knowing that if he tried to speak louder, he'd just wail. "Do you remember me? I'm Draco, your father..." He whimpered in the end, but continued: "...Remember the firebird we saw together? You wanted me to catch it for you... Do you remember your grandmother and grandfather? We lived together in a big house. You had a large room of your own, but you... You liked to sleep in mine. You liked it when your grandmother... was reading books to you and your grandfather was teaching you how to read them. Look at me... You're Scorpius Malfoy. You're... my son. Please, look at me..." he begged with breaking voice and finally fell on his knees, bursting into tears, which frightened Harry and he was about to approach the blond, but somehow felt that it would have been a wrong thing to do right now. Tears ran down Draco's face. Gods, it hurt so much, too much! He felt like his body was knotted, starting from his throat, and all the way down to his stomach. He was afraid to even come closer and touch the boy, as if it would make his baby disappear. Recognition and pain gradually appeared on the child's face.

"Papaaa!" he cried out painfully and ran right into his father's waiting arms. Both started to sob aloud, holding each other desperately. Scorpius' arms were tightly wrapped around Draco's neck, his wet face was pressed against father's upper chest, right under his throat. He was clinging onto Draco with his entire body, trying to hide himself in the father's arms and in his overcoat that was unbuttoned, so it had been easy for the child to get underneath it. Draco held Scorpius tight and wailed just as loud as him. Tears welled up in Harry's eyes at the sight. It was quite a painful reunion to witness. He took off his spectacles and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

     Only nearly half an hour later, both father and his son started to calm down, but were still breathing spasmodically, from time to time, and shaking slightly. However, they didn't move and kept holding each other tight, both too shocked and too scared to be separated. A couple of times some children peeped into the bedroom curiously, but Harry quietly asked them to leave; in the end, he closed the door again and placed a chair against it, propping the back of the chair under the door knob to make it impossible to open the door from the outside. After that he sat down on one of the beds, knowing that Draco and Scorpius needed some more time. 'Oh, Merlin, finally...' he sighed in relief.

     They'd worked through so many versions, trying to find Scorpius. Of course, they'd checked all children in wizarding orphanages, all adopted children, taken from wizarding orphanages, even in the other countries. They had long since stopped caring about finding Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, knowing that the name could have been changed; they would've found him long ago otherwise. Harry had taken part in the search, too, brushing aside more and more of erroneous versions. And they hadn't known if narrowing their search by excluding uncorroborated versions they'd been nearing the truth and probably getting closer to the boy (alive or not, no one had known) or they'd been losing a hope of finding anything by running out of ideas after working through all of them. For months it had seemed that nothing had been moving forward, there'd been no new information at all, no traces in any of two worlds. Eleos March had briefly checked muggle orphanages long ago, but lately he and his two assistants had been checking muggle orphanages thoroughly. And, finally, they'd found him. Not only they'd found Scorpius, but they'd also found the one who was responsible for the boy's disappearance. Some woman from The Department of Childhood Protection had decided that, in order to 'protect the wizarding world from muggle hating prejudices in future', it had been absolutely justified to send the child and grandchild of the Death Eaters, not to mention Malfoy's offspring, to the muggle world, so, raised among muggles, he would become as tolerant as any 'normal' and 'acceptable' member of today's wizarding society. March had suspected that she'd been somehow involved, but there'd been absolutely no evidence before. Now they had enough to put the bitch in Azkaban. Harry hoped they would be able to put her and two other bastards, also involved in this terrible crime, in Azkaban for a very long time.

     Apart for about one year... Draco knew he wouldn't let his little boy go this time. They would have to kill him right here to take his son out of his dead arms, because it was the only way for them to do it. He didn't care about anything anymore. Only his Scorpius mattered, and the entire world could just collapse right now around him and burn, but he wasn't going to let go. He didn't care if Potter had only brought him here just to let him visit his son, Draco wouldn't eat, sleep or move at all, but his boy was going to stay in his arms. If Potter ordered him to leave Scorpius alone (even though he'd never really ordered anything before), Draco would endure any pain the curse inflicted for disobedience. Only the warmth of his son against his chest was important. Draco's soothing and gentle hand was caressing Scorpius' head and the back of his neck. It had always comforted the boy since he'd been a baby. It was working now, too, and Draco felt the small warm body relaxing against him, in spite of not letting him go. The feather light blond hair had become a tiny bit thicker, but hadn't changed otherwise.

   Twenty more minutes had passed and Harry decided that it was time for them to go. He approached tentatively to tell it to Draco. Before starting to talk he tried to touch the blonde's shoulder, but gasped and jerked his hand away. The skin on his hand felt as if scalded with boiling water and looked almost like it. He bit his lip, not to cry out in pain, and cradled the reddening hand. Even if it was an accident, as Draco didn't even seem to notice the surge of his own magic that had gone furious and protective around him and his son, Harry knew that the curse punished Draco for hurting his master, making him feel the same pain, only tenfold. But the blond reacted only with shivering and biting his lip and then gasped, shutting his eyes tight. He didn't even know why he was being punished so harshly that the pain nearly blinded and deafened him, but, thankfully, he was too shaken up to perceive any pain properly. When it had let him go, he was breathing erratically for almost a minute. Scorpius shifted slightly, probably feeling that something was wrong, but it was the only reaction.

"Draco..." Harry said softly.

"No..." the blond shook his head fiercely, before Harry had even finished calling his name.

"We're here to..." Harry tried, but once again Draco interrupted him.

"No, please..." he whispered and the fear was clearly heard in his shaking voice. "I'll do anything. Anything... Please, don't make me..." 'Don't make me let go...' He had no dignity to preserve any longer, so he wasn't ashamed of begging. He pressed his son to himself even harder. Harry was so confused now and even slightly irritated. It was the first time Draco was asking him for something, begging actually, and Harry didn't like it at all.

"Do you think I've brought you here to tease or something?" Harry frowned. "To show you your son and separate you again? Maybe you should stop considering me such a monster? We're leaving together, including Scorpius," he assured, now softer. Draco didn't seem to believe him, so now Harry wasn't sure if bringing him here had been such a good idea. It would have been less traumatising for everyone if he'd just taken the boy from the orphanage and brought him home right into Draco's arms. He'd just assumed that it would have been less scary for the boy if he knew that his daddy was taking him with him, not some stranger. He heard a small whimper Scorpius emitted.

"Scorpius, you're going to leave this place with your Daddy, I promise. Do you want us to leave now?" he said gently. There was no reaction at all at first. But then he saw a tiny nod of the boy's head against Draco's chest. "Let's go then," the dark-haired man said. Draco looked at him uncertainly with his reddened eyes, as if trying to decide if Harry was telling the truth and he was actually allowed to have his son back. Harry sighed, but looked back at him softly. Finally, when it seemed that Draco had seen no lies on the other man's honest face, no catches or ruses, he got up with some effort, because his legs had fallen asleep under him, and picked Scorpius up; the boy once again clung onto his chest. Harry opened the door and they were met with several curious children. The girl in turquoise dress with sandy blond hair and olive green eyes approached them. She was about nine years old, probably ten.

"Why are you taking him, not me? He's bad and he's punished all the time," she frowned. Harry saw and Draco felt the way Scorpius was literally trying to bury himself into his father's chest, looking very scared, probably expecting to be abandoned. Draco paled again.

"What do you mean, punished? How and why?" Harry asked, switching over to his 'auror-mode'.

"Because he's going to hell," she answered as if stating something obvious (and for her it probably was).

"Why? How can you say such a thing?" Harry asked, trying to stay calm.

"He makes others hurt. It's winter and you didn't see what he's done. Last summer he made all flowers wither, even trees around our orphanage all dried up and died. He's strange. He's staring out the window all the time. When Stephen wanted to teach him a lesson and hit him, the very same evening he fell ill. And others who teased him, he made them ill, too," she explained. Harry closed his eyes. 'The accidental magic...' he sighed to himself. Scorpius must have been so sad and hurt that his magic was doing things without any control, just like it often happened to some children with magical abilities. Those who had put the boy here must have found a way to prevent such surges of magic from being noticed by The Improper Use of Magic Office, which would've made it much easier for March, his assistants and Harry himself to find Scorpius. Surely, it would've been recorded, Scorpius would've most likely been transferred to the wizarding world and his true identity would've been discovered. What the girl had described was quite remarkable and there was no way the Ministry wouldn't have reacted to that, especially given that they could've decided that Scorpius' magic had been doing quite dangerous things.

"How did they punish him?" Harry asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

"Umm... I saw Sister Josephine told him to put his hands in front of him and hit them with her ruler several times. She did it again in autumn when all new flowers in her office died. They put him in the corner for the whole day sometimes. This is all I know," the girl shrugged.

"Where can I find this Sister Josephine?"

"In her classroom, of course. On the first floor. Second door on the right."

"Thanks. I think I need to talk to her," Harry frowned. Draco felt befogged, as if his own mind decided to protect itself from damage, caused by too much pain, and it let him feel numb. He followed Potter automatically.

     Harry literally broke into the classroom.

"Sister Josephine?" he asked. Draco couldn't see her from the corridor. Potter closed the door, so Draco could hardly hear anything, either.

"You've tormented a child. How could you? He's just a little boy!" he heard Potter's indignation almost a minute later.

"You don't understand. He's not just a boy. There were signs that he..." the woman tried to defend herself.

"He what?! Possessed by Devil or something?!" Potter nearly shouted. Draco couldn't hear the rest of their rather short conversation, but he heard the scraps of it and it seemed that Potter promised that Sister Josephine that she was going to answer for what she had done. He looked upset when he went out of the office.

"Sorry..." he apologised quietly. "We're leaving; right now."

     Once again Draco followed. Scorpius probably had his own warm clothes, but Draco couldn't think about it right now. Motivated purely by the instinct to protect and warm, known since the dawn of the world, he wrapped his child into his overcoat, pressing him against the warm chest even harder. It was just like more than a year ago when they'd escaped to the forest somewhere in Russia. Draco would've had a feeling of déjà vu right now if he wasn't this numb.

"Scorpius, don't be afraid. Close your eyes and hold on to your Daddy," Harry said gently when they'd got to the blind alley to disapparate.

     Very soon they were finally home. For some reason, Potter headed to Draco's room and Draco followed as before.

"You need another room, a bigger one, with windows," Harry stated. The blond wanted to protest, but Harry didn't let him. "No. Go have some tea together. You're not working today. I'm going to take care of your new room and bring all your things there. It'll be much faster and easier to do with magic," he said, looking thoughtful and slightly fussy. His words affected the curse, like it had already happened before, and it let go.

     When he'd finished furnishing the large room on the third floor and magically transferred everything from Draco's old room, he looked around, satisfied with his work. He thought it looked fine. Antique furniture, Persian carpets; just the way Draco liked it, as far as Harry knew. There was also the bed he'd found in one of the storerooms, the bed was meant for a child. The room had the door to the bathroom, which would be more comfortable than the one that Draco had used before, because he wouldn't have to go up to the first floor any longer. It had taken Harry two hours or so. He couldn't wait to see Draco and make sure he and Scorpius were all right.

     When he entered the kitchen he saw that Scorpius was sleeping, still held against Draco's chest. His head was resting on Draco's shoulder and his small hand held onto Draco's dark-grey turtleneck sweater, as if afraid to let go even in his sleep. It seemed Draco had followed Harry's advice and poured some tea to both himself and his son, but both cups were still full and, most likely, forgotten; the tea had got cold. Draco looked lost. Harry sat down at the table across from him and poured himself his own cup of tea.

"I hope you're going to like the room," he finally said; quietly, not to wake up the child. He was slightly nervous, but he knew that some things had to be voiced. "Look... I want to make it clear. I know it's impossible for me to be in your good books, I just want to do everything possible to make you live again, to have something to hold on to. He's your son, you even were the one who gave him birth..." he stopped talking, finally seeing Draco looking back with surprised, widened eyes. "Yes, I found out about it whilst searching for him," the dark-haired man admitted. "Sorry about that... And I'm very sorry it took so long to find him. Draco, I promise I will never let anyone take him away from you again. Officially, I'm his guardian, but I don't make any claims, and this is not a way to blackmail you, or whatever you might think of it. It was impossible to formalise your guardianship over Scorpius, so I... He's free and he's yours no matter what," Harry promised. Draco didn't know what to say, but the other young man shook his head, letting him know that there was no need to say anything at all.

     He showed Draco to his new room.

"Is this acceptable?" he asked. Draco looked at him openly and gave him a sincere nod. It was a bit too much for one day, Harry knew it. "If you need anything for you or Scorpius, just let me know," he said and left.

     Scorpius stirred and opened his eyes. Sleepily, but disbelievingly he looked up at his father and relaxed, seeing that he was indeed in his father's arms. Draco was still speechless, but it didn't look like Scorpius even needed him to speak right now. He filled the bathtub with warm water, comfortable enough for Scorpius. Undressing him, Draco was suddenly very afraid to find bruises or any scars on the small body. Fortunately, he found none and put his boy into warm water. He rolled up his sleeves and sat down on the floor, putting his chin on the edge of the bathtub. Sitting in the foamy water, his son was hardly looking back at him; the child was withdrawn and quiet. At the same time, he leaned into every touch when Draco was washing him. When he brought him back to the room, wrapped up in the big, warm towel, he saw the small white pyjama set on his bed. It was obviously Potter who had brought it here. It looked new. He put it on Scorpius and changed into his own.

     They spent this day in Draco's bed. Neither of them was sleeping; they just needed to stay close to each other. Harry had visited them twice to bring them some food, but they'd left most of it untouched. It felt awkward to disturb them, but Harry couldn't allow them not to eat.

     When the night came, Scorpius fell asleep, but Draco still couldn't. Sometimes he was starting to fall asleep, but woke up with a start every time the sleep prevented him from feeling the presence of his son next to him.

     The next day Draco's numbness was gone and he was cursing gods and people for letting all of it happen to his baby. He'd never really been into any religion at all, but he'd prayed the gods to protect his child; however, they had allowed to break him and to make the once happy little boy change so dramatically. 'I asked for some justice for the little child. He's so young, he doesn't need much; just someone to take care of him. I asked every night for him to be all right. I didn't ask much. Why on earth would I have even fucking imagined that some higher powers would deign to interfere and help? You obviously hate me. You let some bastards hurt my boy, so fuck you! All of you!' He cursed all known gods and promised himself that he would never ask them for anything again, because they didn't give a fuck. They all were considered dead from this moment on, each one of them, and all the religions, too.

     He cursed all the people that had let all of it happen, and wished them some incurable, horrifying diseases and sufferings to their children, because those people had made his child suffer. The pure, insane hatred was nearly consuming him entirely, he could feel it. If not for the closeness of his baby, he knew he would have exploded.

     Sometimes the entire house, and everything in it, was trembling slightly, and Harry knew that Draco had to be given time to calm down, or else there was going to be a disaster. He was a wizard, no matter what, even if he'd been deprived of his right to use magic. And since he hadn't been using it for nearly a year, it was going berserk now, feeding from his pain and fury.

     Scorpius looked subdued most of the time; when he moved, he was very quiet, when he spoke, which wasn't often, words were only spoken into his father's ear, so no one else could hear. Harry knew the boy wasn't okay, but it was hardly surprising after everything he'd endured, after even his name had been taken from him along with the people he'd loved and only people he'd known. It had become just a little better in several days.

     Harry secretly enjoyed looking at them together. Scorpius was a copy of his father, only a little one. However, it wasn't hard to notice the signs of mistreatment and sadness on both their beautiful, nearly flawless faces. But having each other seemed to be all that both of them really needed. It was easy to see uneasiness on their faces when they were just in different rooms of the house, but it didn't happen often, because no matter what Draco did, his son was following him like a little appendage. Harry found it fascinating, as fascinating as watching the way Draco's eyes changed every time he looked at his son. They were really close, as if an invisible cord connected them to each other. Harry was a tiny bit jealous, because, as much as he loved Al and Jamie and would sacrifice everything for them, they weren't as close as Draco and Scorpius. He decided that it had something to do with the fact that Draco was the one who'd carried and given birth to his son. Notwithstanding his gender, Draco was technically... a mother. Scorpius looked at Draco as if he was his god. It was such a beautiful relationship to watch.

     Al was very curious about the new child in their house. He quickly realised that it was the boy 'taken by bad people', the boy from the picture. But Scorpius was too shy to make friends, to Al's confusion. Harry, seeing his fruitless efforts, told him to be patient and give Scorpius some time to get used to the place and the people.

     And still Albus was confused and a little disappointed that real Scorpius was nothing like the imaginary one. No one knew it, but despite his promise not to go into Draco's room ever again, Al had been there several times, assured that Draco was too busy with his chores. He hadn't touched the framed picture again (keeping, at least, a part of his promise), but he'd been talking to the boy on that picture, showed him his new toys and had even taken the imaginary promise not to tell anyone that Albus had been there, in Draco's room. This real blond boy was very different and not friendly at all. It didn't matter that Scorpius was older now, it was still possible to recognise the boy from the picture.

     After another week of 'being patient' Albus approached the slightly smaller boy again. Scorpius stiffened a little, still feeling uneasy about everyone, who came too close to him, except for his father, even if it was another child. The dark-haired boy gave him the big, white toy owl.

"For you," he said quietly. The blond boy took the toy tentatively. In the orphanage all toys belonged to everyone and to no one, and he wondered if he was allowed to keep this one. He liked it. He didn't ask anything, though. It was a wizarding toy; its big eyes blinked constantly and turned to any person in the room, reacting to any movements. It had feathers that looked almost real.

"Fank you," Scorpius said very quietly.

"She's Hedwig. It's her name. Daddy had weal owl Hedwig and she saved him," Albus said proudly. Scorpius was a little boy, but he wasn't this naive, so he couldn't figure out how a bird could save someone. Of course, in some fairy-tales there were animals that saved people... He wasn't sure.

"How?" Scorpius mouthed, almost inaudible, as always, and never looking back at the other boy.

"Umm..." Al was a bit lost for several moments. "I don't know..." he admitted. "I ask Daddy," he promised. Scorpius didn't pay attention anyway; he turned his face nervously to make sure his Papa was still close. And he was. The boy could see him being busy about the kitchen.

     At first Draco had some small urge to tell his son to never take anything from 'these people', but he couldn't let the (dying down?) animosity between him and Potter affect his boy in any way. His son needed things, needed toys, and Draco couldn't just deprive him of it, since he couldn't afford anything at all. He hated the idea of Scorpius growing up, using hand-me-downs, but he had no choice; it was better to let him have anyone else's things than no things at all. At the same time, most things Potter gave them seemed absolutely new. Fully accepting Potter as his benefactor, Draco would make things better for Scorpius; and it was more important than any pride. He still wasn't quite ready for it, but decided to give himself some time. In any case, he felt unspeakably grateful for what Potter had done for him. He knew he would never be able to repay the debt. It seemed that accepting and embracing it was all he could really do. 'I just want to do everything possible to make you live again,' he remembered Potter's words that had really affected him and made his heart beat faster. Potter was his benefactor, a good one, a selfless one, but Draco still felt something stubborn and restless inside.

     In a few more weeks Scorpius felt a little better around Harry and Albus, and even around Ginny, because she always stayed away from him and paid him no attention at all; Scorpius was calm in her presence, as long as she kept staying away and ignoring him.

     Once he saw Harry going to work, wearing his auror robes, and at first Harry was afraid that his clothes would remind the boy about those who had taken him away from his father. But, thankfully, Scorpius didn't pay attention to it. All other people, however, scared him very much. Harry and his family once had Arthur and Molly visiting them. When Molly entered the kitchen to take something, she saw Scorpius, who, as usual, was with Draco, who was currently washing the dishes. Scorpius was sitting on the chair at the table when Molly entered. And since she was good with children, she tried to talk to him.

"Oh, what a beautiful boy we have here," she cooed, coming closer to him with the intention to pat his blond head. The very next second Scorpius was hiding behind his father's legs, making it obvious that there was no 'we' and only his Papa had him; and no one else was trusted. And, of course, no one was welcome to reach out their hands to him, especially given that he couldn't be sure if they weren't going to try to take him away from his Papa even if for some time. Draco wiped his hand with a towel and reached down to stroke his boy's hair soothingly. Mrs Weasley stopped persisting, as the boy had refused to even stick his nose out from behind his father, even when she'd offered him to take some biscuits and sweets. Draco silently kept washing the dishes without looking at the woman, too, as if she wasn't even there. Even when Arthur and Molly had left, Scorpius kept clinging to his Papa till the rest of the day; just in case.

     Scorpius also wasn't interested in any other children, except Albus. Teddy, who, as usual, visited Grimmauld Place once or twice a week, wasn't successful in making friends with this new boy. He'd been told that Scorpius was his relative, who was less than one year younger than himself, but the blond boy never joined them when Teddy and Al played together. Only once Scorpius looked at him quite curiously when Teddy made his own hair blond and his eyes grey, as he knew, despite his very young age, that such things entertained most people. He couldn't pronounce the word 'metamorphmagus' yet, but he knew what it meant and what being one made him capable of. But still it hadn't impressed the younger boy enough to make him more communicative.

     Most mornings Scorpius woke up scared that the reunion with his Papa had never happened, that it had been just a dream, and he was still in the orphanage. Several times he even started weeping pitifully, being still too sleepy to understand where he really was. But every time it happened and he felt so hurt, scared and alone, he very soon was starting to feel the soothing warmth, as he was carefully picked up from his bed and pressed against his Papa's chest, and a warm, gentle hand was rubbing his back. And then he was waking up completely, no longer crying, and lifting his wet face to see Papa's sad smile. Scorpius loved his Papa's beautiful face. Already calm, the boy was pressing his own face against father's neck or shoulder again, emitting a sigh of relief. He was safe and loved.

     This scene always left Draco heartbroken.

_______________________

A/N: Here it is, the turning point of this story.

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The Shards Of His Beloved