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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Sparrowbirdie: You're so nice! Thank you!

Deylyn: Thanks a lot!

Annette92: I'm so happy when I stir people's emotions like this. Thanks!

dominique1: Thanks a lot for your nice review!

Nubia: Of course, Draco will gradually become less bitter. He just needs more time. Thank you!

Ruri_Hiwatari: Yes, it's more than just good way to win someone's heart, isn't it ;) ? I'm so flattered! Thanks!

moodysavage: Thank you so much for your wonderful review! Good to know you liked it!

paper angels: It time it will. Thanks so much!

HeartStar: I'm, too, glad you've found it again. Thank you!

lividfire: Draco's just a bit too preoccupied with his son, but give them time and... No, no spoilers ;). Thanks for commenting!

Star: Here it is. Thanks a lot!

luvdreams: Haha, thank you!

grav: But I meant 'proper' in her opinion and for her 'proper' is what she prefers. Even though she's a magical creature with a strong connection to the past, I'm pretty sure she keeps learning things about the modern world, both wizarding and muggle, so I don't think I've made a mistake. But, I admit, I don't know much about alcohol drinks, simply because I drink them pretty rarely. The way I described matches the way the glass of absinthe was once prepared for me by one handsome barman. Still, thank you for the information :).

TalisRuadair: Oh, no, she loves her sons. She wasn't ready for James at all, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care about their boys. She's their mother, so just taking them away from her is... well, unfair. And Harry would never do such a thing. No worries, the problem will be solved :). Thanks a lot!

Zenith-Kaitou: Oh, but it was a turning point, wasn't it ;) ? Or you mean Draco's and Harry's relationship. Well, if so, than yes, it needs some more time. Thank you!

Sera21: Thanks a lot! I hope you're going to keep enjoying this story.

Wings Of War: Here, enjoy, and thanks!

Grey_Archangel: Thank you!

RL: Good to know ;). Thanks!

_________________________________

12. Right Behind You

     Draco wouldn't even bother to count how many times he'd already looked at Potter, trying to summon up all his eloquence and some courage to express his gratitude, but he found himself lacking both every time he thought he had an appropriate moment.

     Sometimes Harry was noticing that the pair of grey eyes was watching him carefully and he felt slightly nervous, wondering if he should be happy about it or feel uneasy. These days they'd never succeeded to make any decent conversation, even if both of them tried to. Either it just felt very awkward, or something happened to distract them from it. They once nearly managed to start a normal talk after Harry had asked Draco if he wanted to go to the park together, to take a walk with the children. Draco answered that it would be nice, though he sounded a bit uncertain. And then, after several moments of silence (the bloody awkward silence, by the way), Harry asked how Draco had been, sincerely looking right into his eyes that suddenly looked back. The blond seemed quite eager to answer. He seemed to be in the right mood for it. It could've been some step forward for them, Harry just felt it and his heart stuttered in anticipation, but the moment Draco started talking, Scorpius entered the kitchen and embraced his legs, murmuring his sleepy greetings. The moment was gone, but Harry couldn't be angry at the child.

"Hi, Scorp!" he smiled and winked at the boy, who smiled very shyly, but also very genuinely, in return.

"Good morning, Sir," the boy replied. Harry thought that, although Scorpius' 'R's weren't perfect yet, they were better than Al's, and he decided that he should spend more time teaching his son, instead of just spoiling him or playing and drawing with him all the time.

"You may call me Harry, you know," he smiled again.

"Papa said call you Sir or umm... Mister Potter," the boy replied, wringing his little hands slightly.

"I see," Harry sighed. 'Oh, Draco...' he thought sadly. Did that mean that Draco didn't want Scorpius to become overly familiar with Harry? "Well, I hope, one day you'll be okay with calling me by my first name and so will your Papa," he said. His eyes met Draco's again and he saw something unusual and special in their grey depths; some softness. He'd seen it before, but it had never been directed at him. Once again his heart stuttered.

     Scorpius kept spending most of his time beside his Papa, at arm's length quite often, and pressed himself against him every time he felt insecure in anyone else's presence. When Draco was busy about the kitchen, his little boy liked to sit on the floor near his legs on the thick, but small blanket, playing with toys he'd been given or, even more often, reading some children's book aloud, so his Papa could hear him and correct him if he read something wrong. Only then the very shy and quiet boy could really be heard. He liked reading, even though he wasn't perfect at it (he was only four years old, after all), but he was making a progress and Albus gave him his books eagerly, even without being asked to. Some nights Scorpius still kept climbing into his Papa's bed to find more comfort. Two warm arms wrapped around him sleepily almost every time and he felt safe and happy with his loving parent. Draco knew that his son's fears weren't quite normal, it looked like phobia, but he had to give it more time, so Scorpius would make sure that no one was going to take him away from his Papa again. But there were also some improvements; for example, the boy had become more talkative, started to smile back at Draco. He seemed happier. Until one day...

     Draco had just prepared tea and Harry was sitting at the table in the kitchen, sipping the fragrant Earl Grey after coming back from work (Harry loved drinking tea best when it was prepared by Draco and no one else, as if the blond had some special secret to make it taste better). Draco was still there, because the curse still wasn't letting him go, though he knew he was close to finishing his work for today. He was washing the dishes when Scorpius ran into the kitchen with loud, frightened wails. Tears were streaming down his face and he looked absolutely terrified. Draco kneeled in front of him and held him tight.

"What is it, darling? Are you hurt?!" he asked with concern, frantically checking his boy for injuries. Scorpius tried to tell him something, but nothing coherent came out as he kept crying, holding onto his Papa's white shirt. Harry kneeled beside them, trying to help to soothe the child, but it made no difference.

"Papa! Don't give me back!" Scorpius finally managed to force the words out of himself, shaking violently.

"Never," Draco replied quickly and it sounded like a vow. "I'd never give you back, darling. Tell me what's wrong. Tell papa what happened," he murmured comfortingly, looking so distressed that it pained Harry to look at both of them.

"Papa, I be good! Good... Don't give me back! I can't... wifout you..." the child kept sobbing. Albus looked confused, standing at the threshold. Harry turned to him.

"Al, what happened?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," the dark-haired child replied, looking upset.

"Do you know where Scorpius was before coming here?"

"In living woom. Near window," Albus replied. Draco picked up his son and went to the living room to see what could have possibly caused his son such a distress. Harry followed him together with Al, whose hand was in his. There were two windows in the room, but everything became clear when they approached one of them. Several potted plants were on the windowsill. And they were all dry and dead beyond the revival.

"I ruined it... I bad! Devil going take me to hell!" Scorpius sobbed loudly. Harry's heart clenched. It reminded him of his own childhood so much. Dursleys had called him a freak for being a wizard. It wasn't based on any religious motives though, but they'd made him feel like he was nothing but dirt under their feet because of his gift. And Scorpius had been intimidated so terribly for the things he absolutely couldn't control. Of course, he hadn't meant to do such things on purpose. There was a good chance he wouldn't have even been able to realise that it was he who had been doing all those things or even notice them at all, but, certainly, 'good people' had noticed it and informed him that he was nothing but evil that didn't deserve to live. How stressed and lonely the boy had been in the orphanage that his magic had started to show itself in such a way?

"No one's going to take you," Draco promised him quietly and calmly, despite the tight feeling in his chest. "Those who told you that were just stupid. They know nothing."

"Scorpius, you know you're a little wizard, don't you?" Harry said softly, picking up his own son. "Wizard like your Papa. I'm a wizard and Albus is one, too. You've done nothing wrong. Such things happen sometimes when little wizards and witches are confused or hurt," he explained.

"Darling, you were upset, weren't you? Why?" Draco asked. Scorpius was still crying, but much quieter now. He looked like he was trying his best to believe what Mister Potter and Papa had told him.

"You remembered something?" Harry tried to help, because Draco's question remained unanswered. Scorpius nodded.

"What, love? What did you remember that has made you so upset?" Draco asked, gently wiping the tears from the pink and wet face of his child with a clean handkerchief.

"Grandmamma and grandpapa," Scorpius answered quietly, still whimpering a little.

"I see..." Draco whispered pensively.

"...Miss them."

"I miss them, too..."

"When we go home to grandpapa and grandmamma?"

"Scorpius..." Harry breathed. Draco frowned at him a little.

"I can take care of it myself," he said and took his son away to their room, looking very depressed. It was going to be a hard conversation, because Draco couldn't hide the truth any longer. Harry sighed, following them with his eyes.

"They leave?" Albus asked, slightly troubled.

"No, Al. They can't leave," Harry sighed again and kissed his son's forehead. The attention was returned as the boy wrapped his arms around Daddy's neck.

     When he put his both boys to sleep, he went down to the living room to get rid of the dead plants. Another faint tremor of Draco's magic, caused by hatred and pain, went through the entire house and Harry felt very sad.

     He went to the kitchen later, when it seemed that everyone else in the house was asleep. He hadn't expected to see Draco washing the dishes. The curse probably hadn't let him go yet. Harry quietly sat down at the table and watched him carefully. Draco's back and shoulders looked tense. Harry wished he could make things better, but he didn't know how. When the blond finished putting the clean and dry dishes, wiped with a towel, into the sideboard, he suddenly tensed even more, his hands started to shake visibly and he bowed his head, fighting back tears that overflowed his very being. He knew he was going to break down, in spite of his best efforts, he just knew it. Why couldn't Potter just go to bed and let him break down without witnesses?!

     Harry heard Draco drawing in a shaky breath. Led by something he couldn't control any longer, with uneven heartbeat and numb mind he approached the blond from behind and embraced the shaking body with his both arms, embraced it with his everything. He held him tight; his beloved one, his only one... The weeping one, the unhappy one. Harry didn't know what would happen to him if he was going to be pushed away now. Would he go insane? Was he already insane? He needed this contact so much, though he couldn't hope it was mutual. He just didn't think about it right now. The lean body in his arms stiffened. It seemed it had taken time for Draco to realise what was going on. He made a weak attempt to pull away, but was held even tighter. In any case, he was too hurt right now and it dimmed his consciousness, so his body just leaned into the offered comfort. Harry let him turn around, but otherwise wasn't really loosening his embrace. The body in his arms was shuddering from sobs. Feeling weakness in Draco's knees and in his own, Harry made them both subside onto the floor, taking most blonde's weight upon himself and becoming a sure support for him.

"I've got you..." Harry mouthed, doubting that it was something that could be heard. As they were sitting there on the floor, he kept holding his love. He pressed the side of his face against the blonde's and felt the warm tear sliding down against his skin, though he knew it was Draco's tear. His own tears filled his eyes and soon he wasn't sure whose tears he was feeling running down his cheeks. He felt himself being held back when two lean arms were wrapped around his torso, and the shaking body was entirely pressed against his in search for even more comfort.

     Through the foggy filter of his all-absorbing grief he felt Potter kissing him gently: his wet cheeks and jaw line were touched by the soft, warm lips. It was very tender, but frantic, nevertheless; just as tender and frantic as the meaningless whispers into his ear that were being alternated with the kisses. There was nothing sexual about it; these kisses meant to soothe and comfort. Draco couldn't react properly as he would have reacted if his mind was clear. But any sign of mortification was effectively suppressed by too much distress he was feeling right now. Harry took him whole, together with all his misery, and had him trapped within the sanctuary of his arms. His very presence said: 'Now you may relax, you can let it go, because I'm holding you. I'm going to take care of you now that you're so vulnerable, and I will never use what you consider weakness against you'. There was no need to say it verbally or even think about it; it only meant to be felt.

     After what seemed like half an hour, or probably a bit longer, Draco's sobbing turned into a weak sniffling. The collar of Harry's chequered blue and white shirt was wet and the side of the blonde's face was still pressed against it. Draco was resting against Harry, who kept holding him. If the circumstances were different, the dark-haired young man would've been absolutely ecstatic, having his beloved this close for the first time in his life (in the Room of Requirement, on the broom, when Draco had been holding him like a lifeline, could hardly be counted as a closeness, because it had been too fast and too dangerous to pay attention to anything except survival), but he didn't have to remind himself that Draco was only here with him, because he was in pain. He was in pain because of what had happened to his little son, and because he had just told the boy that he would never see his grandparents again. These were the reasons Draco was in Harry's arms, and it didn't matter if the heart full of love wanted it to be some other way. But if he could give Draco his compassion and comfort, he was ready to be more than generous, just to soothe some pain.

     Semiramis had been watching this scene for quite a long time now, unnoticed. Both young humans kept sitting on the floor. Although Draco's arms weren't wrapped around Harry any longer, his hand was holding the fabric of the chequered shirt on the side of it. He'd stopped crying, but it seemed he wasn't ready to leave the sanctuary that two warm, strong arms had created for him. In the end, the sphinx couldn't help but smirk at the sight. Her very keen ear, however, made her aware that Draco's cub wasn't sleeping as good as his father thought. Semiramis went upstairs and entered the room quietly. Scorpius looked troubled in his sleep and he was probably about to wake up and start crying for his father. She jumped onto his bed gracefully (knowing where to jump not to rock the bed too much with her heavy body) and started to purr close to the ear of the distressed cub. Then she lay down on her belly with her paws tucked under her body and pressed herself to the human cub's back. Soon her warmth and purring calmed the blond boy down and he relaxed against her. She left only when she'd heard that someone was coming up the stairs.

     Harry saw Draco to his room.

"You need some rest..." the dark-haired man said very quietly, failing to find anything else to say. It was all that was told. Draco only nodded before disappearing into his room.

     Later neither of them wanted to discuss what had happened in the kitchen. It didn't seem like something they could put into words.

     As Ginny had started to visit the quidditch training once or twice a week to restore her shape and skills, Harry was taking more days off from work to spend them with his children (and Draco). As much as he loved Molly and trusted her, he believed that children had to spend more time with their parents. And while Draco was busy doing his household chores, Harry was looking after Scorpius, too, to help Draco to finish his work sooner, because since Scorpius had started living with them, his Papa worked from morning to almost midnight, as he was distracted from work all day long, doing chores and paying attention to his child, at the same time. It meant that he was getting tired much more than before. He never complained, though. When Harry was with the children, Scorpius often went to see how his Papa was, but it was mostly brief and he returned to the nursery or to the living room, depending where Albus, Harry and James were. Of course, if someone else visited, Scorpius immediately left and spent all his time with Draco. It seemed that Albus and Scorpius were getting along very well. Harry had fun watching them sometimes.

"Daddy..." Albus once approached him, while Scorpius was sitting at the table and reading some fairy tale.

"What is it, Al? Why are you whispering?" Harry whispered back, smiling at his elder, almost five years old son.

"I want touch Scowpius' hair," his boy confessed.

"Why?" Harry smiled even wider. But Albus frowned sulkily and Harry tried his best to muster a serious expression on his face, not to make his son think that he was making fun of him.

"I like it," Al answered.

"Why do you think it feels different from the hair of any other person?"

"Diffewent?.. I don't know... It so white. Whiter than Vic's," the boy said, talking about Victoire Weasley, who was almost two years younger. "Dwaco's, too, but he get angwy if I touch."

"I see," Harry smiled slightly.

"May I?"

"You have to ask Scorpius, not me. Just tell him: "Scorpius, may I touch your hair?" and see if he allows."

"Okay," Al grumbled quietly. Sometimes Daddy wasn't helpful at all. He came closer to his blond friend and looked back at his Daddy uncertainly. Harry pretended that he wasn't watching, not to make his son feel shy or angry at being watched. The dark-haired boy almost whispered his request to his friend. Scorpius was a little surprised, but only for a second; then he shrugged and nodded, not making a big deal out of it. Albus looked back at Harry again to make sure Daddy wasn't watching. Harry pretended once again that he was wholly absorbed in playing with Jamie. And so Albus touched the very soft blond hair and passed his hand several times from the top of the fair head to the back of it. Just when he stopped, Draco entered the room for a minute.

"How are you, darling?" he asked. Scorpius took the big, yellow apple from the table and went to his father.

"Papa, look, apple have huuuge bruise," he informed, showing the dark spot on the fruit.

"Oh, really?" Draco smiled. "You're right, it really has one. It must've fallen on the floor. Let me wash it for you again and cut it into slices," he said and kissed his boy's forehead. Albus, meanwhile, came closer to Harry, looking pleased with himself for getting what he'd wanted.

"Happy now?" Harry teased a little. Al nodded shyly with a small smile. Oh, children... If Harry approached Draco and asked for anything like this, he would've been held up to ridicule on the spot. Draco's hair always looked so fine. Sometimes it was combed back and sometimes Draco parted it at the side very neatly. Today it was the latter. What? There was nothing wrong with silently and covertly admiring something, wasn't it? He'd been doing it a lot for quite a long time, after all. Years, to be precise.

     Even after more than two months since Scorpius had been returned to his Papa, things were developing with varied success. Scorpius kept giving point-blank refusals to leave the house without Draco even with Harry and Albus when they offered him to go for a walk. When Draco went shopping, which was very rarely, it was always so early in the morning that Scorpius was still asleep when Draco left and only about to wake up when he returned home. Harry had given him the portkey, so he could apparate to wizarding London, not far from Diagon Alley and then apparate back almost at the entrance door of the house.

     But one morning Scorpius woke up earlier than usual and, after searching through the house, went to the dining room, where Harry and still sleepy Al were having their breakfast. When he asked where his Papa was, Harry had no choice but to tell him the truth that Draco had left, but he wasn't far away (well, that wasn't quite truth) and would be home very soon. He tried to distract the upset little boy, but Scorpius started crying and looked absolutely miserable. Harry forgot his breakfast and picked the boy up, trying to soothe him. He went to the living room and sat down on the sofa, having the blond child on his lap. He didn't care if he was going to be late for work. Albus joined them.

"Shhh... Don't cry. Don't..." Harry murmured. "Papa is going to come back very soon, I promise. I'm sure he's already on the way home. You're his little boy and he loves you so much. He would never leave you. He loves you very, very much. Shh..." Harry rubbed Scorpius' back. The child was inconsolable. He was hiding his face in his hands and kept weeping. Albus joined his father, attempting to comfort his friend.

"My Daddy go to wowk often. He go to... Aunt Mione and Uncle Won, and... do other fings. And he always come back. Your Daddy come back, too. Don't cwy," Al assured, caressing Scorpius' fair hair. Harry chuckled to himself. It seemed his son had developed some kind of fetish for the little blonde's hair. His childish logic probably made Albus think that if it was pleasant and comforting for him to touch the soft locks, it was as well pleasant and comforting for Scorpius to be touched like this.

     Very soon, just as Harry had promised, Draco entered the house. As Scorpius turned his tear-drenched face to him and saw him, he started to calm down. Draco approached immediately and took his son's hand in his own.

"Gods, Scorpius, I'm sorry, darling... I was just shopping. I was away for just a couple of hours. I intended to come back before you wake up," he explained. Scorpius looked at him with his reddened eyes and quite a blank expression. Draco opened the leather satchel at his thigh and retrieved something out of it. "Look, I have something for you," he said softly and gave his son the small, transparent, glass figurine of a hippogriff. It was magical and it spread its wings occasionally, as well as turned its head. Draco, of course, didn't have any money of his own; he had taken the figurine for free on the occasion of opening of the new shop that had a huge choice of goods, mostly china, dinner services and glass, crystal or porcelain figurines. He had asked the woman, who gave these presents to all the visitors who came to see the new shop, to give him one. She'd frowned at him a little, because the figurines were meant to be given to customers, not just those who'd happened to pass by. But when he'd said that he wanted to give it to his little boy, she gave up. It seemed she hadn't recognised Draco Malfoy, who'd been wearing his favourite traditional pointed suede hat with the silver buckle on its side. The brim of the hat shadowed his face a little, even though he'd had some of his platinum blond hair showing from under it. It was another reason for him to like this hat.

     As Scorpius had unenthusiastically taken the figurine in his hand, he suddenly gave Draco a very hurt frown and threw his present on the floor with a loud, angry shriek. The figurine shattered and Scorpius ran away up the stairs. Draco was stunned. He felt a comforting hand that held his own. Harry couldn't help it, seeing how lost Draco looked right now. The blond slowly freed his hand and went to the kitchen to do his chores... Albus looked up at Harry very confused by what had just happened.

     Only one hour later Harry, who had already taken the day off, found heart to enter the kitchen. He quietly sat down at the table. Draco paid him no attention, doing his work.

"He blames me..." he suddenly whispered without turning to Harry. His hands were shaking, but he kept tidying up. "Blames me for not preventing them from taking him away..." He shivered visibly.

"No..." Harry gasped quietly. Draco only nodded several times, silently arguing with him. But Harry shook his head insistently, even if he wasn't sure the blond could see it. "I'm sure he doesn't. He overreacted, but I'm sure he knows you would've never given him away of your own free will. He knows, Draco. He's going to be okay. He's with you now. He'll be fine, because you're together," Harry assured. The next moment Scorpius slowly entered the kitchen, looking very ashamed and guilty.

"Papa... I'm sorry," he said quietly, never looking up. "I upseted you." He hugged father's legs. Draco kneeled and they embraced each other properly. Scorpius caressed his Papa's face with his small hand. Harry looked at Draco, smiling, as if telling: 'See? I told you!', but his smile disappeared when he heard Scorpius whispering:

"Never again... Never go..."

     Harry repaired the figurine and gave it to Scorpius, who looked relieved and thankful. It had a couple of tiny cracks, but it was whole. The figurine was a very delicate and elaborate work, so it was very hard to repair, not to mention that it was magical; at least, it had been. Unfortunately, it wasn't animated any longer and the hippogriff's wings were folded all the time. Scorpius didn't care, because it was a present from his Papa, so he treasured it.

     The curse didn't care if Draco's son was terrified about the very thought of his father going anywhere at all, so one morning when Potter's wife, before leaving somewhere, told Draco to go buy some food and left him the shopping list, the curse was very displeased, because he tried to ignore her order and kept doing the other work about the house. The pain blossomed out in his chest, stomach and back, travelling up to his head and down to his feet. His spine felt like it was on fire and soon he was racked by unbearable pain. Draco couldn't even scream. He grew feeble and slowly ended up on the floor. Harry gasped in panic, finding him sitting on the floor of the kitchen in obvious pain. At the same time, Scorpius, who'd just woken up, entered, too.

"Draco, what is it? Are you hurt?" Harry asked, gently holding the blonde's face in his hands.

"Papa?" Scorpius whispered, holding his father with both arms and looking at him with worry.

"I'm fine..." Draco mumbled. The touches of both his son and Potter should have been nice and comforting, he felt it, he knew it, but it was overshadowed with pain.

"Let me help you." Harry helped him to sit on the chair.

"No... I have things to do," Draco refused.

"You're barely standing on your feet and obviously in pain. Draco, tell me what's wrong. Is it because of the curse? Why?"

"Couldn't leave Scorpius alone..." Draco whispered, hoping that only Harry heard him.

"I see... Ginny ordered you to go somewhere. Shopping?" Harry asked, starting to understand what was going on. Draco nodded.

"I'll just take Scorpius with me..." he said. Scorpius didn't feel safe in any places full of strangers, but, perhaps, if Draco held him in his arms the entire time...

"No. I cancel her order. Don't go anywhere today. Have some rest."

     Harry brought him a cup of tea when Draco was half-lying on the sofa in the living room with Scorpius on his lap. As Draco was drinking his tea, Harry was sitting in the armchair, looking at him.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you," Draco nodded. The curse was letting go and the relief was so unspeakable that Draco was almost ready to weep.

     Both Draco and Harry knew that it just couldn't continue like this, so Harry volunteered to help when Draco had decided to try out his new plan to make his son feel more at ease when he was leaving. Scorpius already had tears on his face when Papa had told him that he was going to leave for a while, but Draco promised the boy that he would be able to see him almost constantly if he would be staring out the window. The boy didn't look convinced, but he was being left with no choice. Harry put the upset child on the windowsill in the library and they both looked at Draco who left the house only to cross the street and enter the muggle shop to buy some food. Harry kept murmuring soothing words and promises to the little boy. When Draco came out of the shop, he smiled, looking up, and waved his hand to his son, who couldn't help but smile through his tears and waved back. When Papa returned home, he told Scorpius how proud he was of him and hugged him warmly.

     Later they repeated the same thing several times and soon Scorpius stopped crying when Draco was leaving. Now the problem was to convince him that Draco would undoubtedly return just the same if he went somewhere else, somewhere where Scorpius couldn't see him. It didn't go without a lot of tears, but Draco returned in half an hour or so and soothed his boy. After several times things seemed to have improved. Scorpius worried about his Papa, missed him, but he knew that Papa would come back, so it didn't hurt him so badly any longer when Draco was going somewhere (which wasn't often, nevertheless, because, ironically, Harry, too, felt a bit uneasy when Draco was away; but the blond certainly had no idea about it). Harry and Albus supported Scorpius through the entire experience very much.

     Unfortunately, the situation with other people still hadn't really improved. Scorpius was very nervous when he was invited to Al's birthday party on the ninth of May. Albus' "It my birfday and you mine fwend and I want you wif me" convinced him, of course, but he was quite tense with so many people around. Well, there wasn't a great many guests, but for Scorpius it was a huge crowd of strangers and a couple of times he retreated to spend some time with his father. Thankfully, Albus was very protective (in almost non-aggressive manner) and didn't let anyone approach his friend when someone wanted to coo over the adorable, quiet and shy blond boy. Harry was swelling with pride over his now five years old son.

     Draco felt sad that he could give his boy so little. Even if Papa's very existence was like a greatest blessing for Scorpius, Draco thought that it wasn't fair that Potter's children were often showered with gifts from friends and relatives, not only on holydays, but any other days, too, and Draco couldn't even afford some sweets. He wasn't really envious about it, not at all. He just didn't feel like a good father that could just let himself pamper his own child a bit. Scorpius never looked hurt or offended when his friend was given presents, but he was a child and there was no way Draco could let him feel that he was any worse than other children and deserved any less tokens of parental love.

"May I have your permission to go shopping today? I could buy food or any other things you need. I'd like to take a walk," Draco lied. "Would you mind looking after Scorpius?" he asked, knowing that it was Potter's day off and he would be looking after his own sons, anyway. Harry looked back at him. The blond could lie and it was very convincing. The slight wince betrayed him, and, most likely, it meant that the curse had punished him for lying to his master. However, the lie was insignificant most likely; the punishment would've been less tolerable otherwise.

"Yes, of course, you have my permission, but I don't think we need anything to buy, so just take a walk for as long as you want," Harry replied.

     He was sure that Draco had nothing bad on his mind, but the curiosity was so irresistable... He firecalled Molly and asked her to spend an hour or two with the children. Scorpius didn't mind, but only when she paid him no attention at all. She already knew it very well, so she never tried to impose her attention on him.

     Polyjuiced, Harry was following Draco down the street of wizarding London. He was a bit confused when he saw Draco entering the pawn shop.

     It was the fourth pawn shop Draco visited. The impassive hazel eyes were scrutinising the piece of Draco's family heirloom jewellery, one of the four that Draco still possessed, because they'd been on him when he'd been arrested. Only two pendants and two rings had left of all the jewellery his family had had. He wore them almost all the time, but now he really needed some money, so it was time to give one of the things he valued so much, because they reminded him of his family. He couldn't use any Malfoy property, including money, whilst serving his sentence, and there was absolutely no guarantee that in fourteen years any of it would be returned to him. He really doubted that it would. There was actually some loophole in the law, which made it possible for an owner of a slave to appropriate a slave's property. Draco's lawyer, Prospero Atrax, had mentioned it before Draco had been sold. Fortunately, Potter was nothing like a person who was capable of doing anything like that. But it didn't mean that the property of Malfoys was safe and waiting for the heir, because... Well, because the Ministry consisted of bastards.

"Twenty five Galleons," the shop keeper said.

"This is an antique pendant, made of white gold; one of the perfect works of the famous French jeweller of the fifteenth century. It costs, at the very least, ninety Galleons," Draco argued.

"Twenty five Galleons. You should be grateful that I agree to do any business with you at all. This pendant has a crest of Malfoys on it, so I'm not even sure if anyone would be interested in it," the shop keeper lied without a twinge of conscience. "Take my offer or leave." And it was final. Draco felt bitter, but there was nothing he could do. One shop keeper in the other pawn shop had refused to have any business with him; the other two, just like this one, had used the tiny Malfoy's crest, engraved on the back of the pendant as an excuse to offer the ridiculously, unbelievably low prices that hadn't been different from the price that this one had offered. Yes, he knew perfectly well that it was just an excuse. He'd never been in any pawn shops before today, but he wasn't an idiot and he knew sneaky people when he saw them. He'd heard there were two or even three pawn shops in Knockturn Alley, too, but alone he would never go anywhere near that place without having his wand or probably even with it. It seemed he had no choice. 'Mother, Father, I'm sorry...'

"Fine... Twenty five," he agreed, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice.

     Harry watched Draco coming out of another pawn shop, looking despondent. There was a faint, but unmistakable, clanking of coins in the suede pouch that the blond was holding in his hand. Draco had just pawned his family jewel, Harry was sure of it. It was also obvious that the deal had been much more satisfactory for the shop keeper than for Draco. Noting to himself in which direction the blond was going, so he wouldn't lose him, Harry entered the shop. He didn't let the pleased looking shop keeper tell any greetings.

"Auror Potter," Harry introduced himself with firm voice, without bothering that he was still polyjuiced. "How much have you given him?" he asked. The confused man opened his mouth, but faltered a little. Merlin, Harry knew what was about to follow: 'I'm not sure I know what you're talking about' or 'I'm sure there's some mistake', or something equally pointless; he'd heard it all before and, frankly, he had no idea why people told things like that. Surely, they didn't think anyone would buy that, did they? But now he didn't have time, so, before the shop keeper said anything, Harry repeated: "How much? Don't lie to me and don't waste my time."

"Twenty five Galleons," still very confused shop keeper answered.

"Are you sure or should I check?"

"I swear, it was twenty five," the man said. Harry put twenty five Galleons on the counter.

"Take it and give me everything you've swindled from him."

"But..."

"I have no doubt that we could find some stolen items here. I'm sure you don't want to lose your shop because of your shady dealings."

     And that had done the trick. The beautiful pendant, made of white gold, was now safely resting in Harry's pocket. He'd seen it on the blonde's neck before, when Draco had been ill almost one year ago and Harry had been changing his clothes. He suspected that Draco had had it on his neck, hidden under the clothes, all the time, at least, since he had settled down in Grimmauld Place. It was a rather small flower and Harry suspected there was some meaning of it. It was probably a tulip, but it resembled fleur-de-lis; however, its outer petals were less curled up and rather slightly turned inwards to the centre, unlike the petals of fleur-de-lis that were curled outwards and in a larger degree. There was a tiny diamond in the centre of the golden flower. Even though the pendant wasn't big, it looked rather exquisite.

     Now he would have to pick the right moment to give the pendant back to Draco and not to make it look like something that the blond would find humiliating.

     Draco took his time to choose something good to buy for the money he had. In the book shop he became interested in the set of cards, which were magical high quality pictures of some places of interest all over the wizarding world and some pictures also showed the nature of different countries, mostly landscapes. There were two hundred cards in this set, placed into the beautiful ornate wooden box. His Scorpius loved pictures, so Draco knew he was going to like it. He couldn't show the world to his son, so he could also use the pictures for teaching purpose. After almost twenty minutes of scrutinising the bookshelves, he picked four thick, large (to his boy they would seem huge) children's books that he thought would be interesting for Scorpius. He was a little child, but his reading skills and the ability of reading comprehension were something that made Draco proud. Well, everything about his son made him proud, but Scorpius was a clever boy and Draco could select the books, intended for slightly older children than his son. In case there were things too difficult for Scorpius to understand, he would always be able to ask his Papa and memorise the received information. One book was about seas, oceans and some forms of life they contained. There were a lot of beautiful magical pictures. The other book was about magical and non-magical animals, also full of pictures. The third one was full of different puzzles and riddles. And, finally, the last one, the thickest one, was the book on wizarding fairy tales and legends, also with a great many pictures. When Draco had been a child he'd had a lot of similar ones.

     After the book shop he had very little money left. He entered the toy shop and spent a good half an hour, trying to decide what else to buy. He started to think that it would've been better if he'd taken his son with him to have a good time together, letting Scorpius choose toys he wanted. But, since he hadn't thought of it before, he deferred to his own taste. He found the big and beautiful jar with six jellyfishes. They weren't real, but they were magical and they moved and looked absolutely real even on closer examination. They also glowed in the dark, creating a gentle illumination and making the entire thing some kind of night light to boot.

     Draco also bought the stuffed Nessie, the Loch Ness monster that resembled the ancient plesiosaur. She was so famous that even muggles knew about her existence, though most of them thought that she was just a legend. She was protected by the wizarding people, because she had already revealed herself more than once, in spite of their best efforts. She had quite a rebellious temper and did whatever she wanted. No one would ever be able to count how many muggles had been obliviated because of her antics; one of her favourites was turning fishermen's boats upside down, playing with them or with terrified people that were in absolute panic, trying to get out of the water and away from the monster.

     The toy that Draco had bought was dark-blue with a lot of lighter thin strips on its spine from the back of its head almost to the tip of its tail. The toy could slightly turn its small head on its really long neck and its flippers and tail also moved a little sometimes. The toy was enchanted to react on the surrounding temperature, so when the environment was colder than it was comfortable, the toy Nessie became warm to keep a child untroubled.

     Now he only had a little money to buy some sweets, which he did in the sweets shop.

     He knew it was wrong to spend all the money like this. It would have been wiser to save it for Scorpius' clothes, because he knew that his son would soon grow out of his clothes and shoes. Draco himself would soon need some new clothes, too, even if what he had still looked decent; undoubtedly, it wouldn't last for another couple of years. But he couldn't have helped it. Anything for his child's smile. Nevertheless, it made him sad that he couldn't give his Scorpius everything his boy really deserved. He sighed and readjusted the strap of the enchanted satchel on his shoulder as he'd stopped for a moment.

     Harry felt like he was reading Draco's mind right now. He knew exactly what the blond was thinking. When he saw the way Draco's eyes slightly watered, it only confirmed it. 'Don't be sad, love. Everything's going to be fine.'

     Draco still had a couple of coins in his suede pouch, so he decided to visit a hairdresser, which he hadn't done for a long time, so his hair had grown past his shoulders. Last time he'd had a haircut it was his mother who had performed it after she'd learned some good spell for it, since there was no way they could have visited or invited a hairdresser. It had been about a year and a half ago when his hair had been last cut.

     The hairdresser recognised him when he sat down in front of the large, round ornate mirror. She didn't know and had never known him in person, but she knew about Malfoys, like most people, thanks to papers. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line and all her courtesy, which she'd showed before recognising him, had disappeared. He answered just as coldly as she had asked him what kind of a haircut he wanted. He was a bit afraid that she was going to ruin his hair, just because she didn't like him. Fortunately, she knew how to put her negative emotions aside and do her job. Several swishes of her wand cut his hair neatly; she parted it at the side of his head and slicked it down a little. It looked good. Draco liked his hair like this; certainly not short, but not long enough to reach the middle of the back of his neck. His hair never caused any trouble to hairdressers; it wasn't particularly thick and it was perfectly obedient. He paid for the woman's work and left her shop without saying a word.

     Harry liked Draco's haircut, too. It reminded him of how the blond had usually done his hair when they had been in school.

     Strolling down the street, he was deep in his thoughts. He'd been a slave for more than a year now, but certainly it wasn't something to congratulate himself with. There were almost fourteen more years of this ahead of him, unless Granger (right, Weasley) and other enthusiasts would find a way to abolish slavery. But if she succeeded, didn't it mean that he would have to spend the rest of his sentence in Azkaban, which in turn meant that he was going to die there, most likely? He would hardly survive it and his little son would be taken to an orphanage again! Merlin... No one knew what was going to happen. He suddenly felt how much he missed Scorpius and he knew perfectly well that Scorpius missed him, too, so he apparated to Grimmauld Place, giving his pessimistic thoughts no chance to ruin this day. Strangely, such thoughts often plagued him when he left the house for some reason. Once he entered the house, his legs were embraced warmly before he knew it.

"I missed you, Papa."

     Scorpius was in the seventh heaven when he'd got all his presents. At first he'd been a little confused and asked if it was his birthday or something, but then he was just happy to no end, like only children could. He liked everything his Papa had given him.

"Papa, may I eat sweets wif Al?"

"Of course, darling; you may if you want to," Draco smiled. Some people taught their children to share as if it was obligatory, but Draco wanted his boy to share not because he ought to share (Draco thought it was stupid; there were no 'oughts' and 'musts' when it was about things that were nothing but deeds of goodwill), but because he could share if he wanted to and when he wanted to.

     It wasn't surprising that both Scorpius and Albus stuffed themselves with sweets, therefore, refused to eat their supper later. They played to their heart's content and ended up fast asleep on the sofa in the living room. Draco sighed, finding them like this after finishing his work. The faces of both boys and especially their hands were sticky and covered in many colours of sugar coating of all the sweets they had eaten. Their clothes was smudged with it, too, as well as the upholstery of the sofa (he really hoped he wouldn't be the one to clean it). Albus' hair looked like he had thoroughly mopped the floor of the entire room with it. It was obviously Potter's heredity, and Draco couldn't help but remember how his school rival's hair (that dark catastrophe on his head) had looked after each quidditch match.

     Scorpius was hardly even waking up when Draco was bathing him before putting him into bed.

     Harry racked his brains over the way to return the pendant to Draco. He hadn't thought up any good plan, so, after four days, without thinking, he just put the pendant on Scorpius' neck, making sure that the thin chain was securely fastened. He hoped that he wouldn't be there when Draco noticed it, but there was no such luck. When the blond had taken a break and entered the living room to spend several minutes with his child, he noticed the chain whilst arranging the boy's shirt collar. He pulled the pendant out and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Where did you get this pendant?" he asked, looking very confused. He was starting to think that there was probably something wrong with his eyes. Or with his head.

"Mister Potter say it's our and... he say it should be in family," Scorpius replied. Draco turned his face to Harry who was preparing himself to face the music. Draco didn't know what to do. He wanted to yell at Potter for following and watching him, for meddling in affairs that were none of his concern, for witnessing the way Draco had abased himself once more. At the same time, he thought how to fire up without startling his unsuspecting child, who was sitting on his lap. There was also another emotion – he was relieved that the piece of his family heirloom hadn't fallen into the hands of worthless strangers. Harry was carefully watching how all the emotions, that Draco felt right now, confused and almost stunned the blond young man. It seemed there was probably a chance to avoid the storm, because Draco was too dumbstruck. Ready for almost anything that was in store for him, Harry kept looking at him openly, fascinated by the sight of Draco's lips that had formed the small, sweet, pink 'o' in surprise. It was Scorpius who saved the situation.

"Like pillow..." he said, looking at the pendant on his palm.

"Huh?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. Draco answered, to his surprise, though the blond was looking uncertain, as if really doubting that he should speak to Harry at all, considering the circumstances.

"In his bed Scorpius had several embroidered pillows with the images of this symbol," he explained quietly, without looking back at Harry, but then he looked at Scorpius. "I'm surprised you remember them, Scorpius."

"I remember," the boy nodded.

"Do you want to know what this symbol means?" Draco asked him.

"Yes," Scorpius nodded again eagerly.

"Originally, it comes from a black tulip and represents power, royalty, respect to the dead ancestors, mostly the noble ones, and to the past in general, even when everything's lost because of wars, revolutions and... and so on... Many years ago they were a token of a ruler's favour. Some families still have this symbol on their crests, sometimes hidden, so it's hard to notice. And sometimes it's just used as a decorative design, like those on your pillows. It's just for decoration."

"Ancestors?" Scorpius asked. It took him some effort to pronounce the word. "Grandmamma and grandpapa ancestors?"

"Yes, darling, they are. And those who were before them."

"It resembles fleur-de-lis," Harry said.

"Well, it's a different flower and it has a different meaning. Fleur-de-lis is rather a muggle symbol. It's not easy to find it in the wizarding world. And, after all, images of flowers are often used in both worlds as symbols; some just more famous than others," Draco answered, still looking and feeling uncomfortable. He put Scorpius on the sofa and said that he had to go back to work. At the doors he turned his face to Harry and shook his head before leaving. Harry didn't know what to make of it, but it seemed that the storm had passed by. 'Oh, really? No "Potter, don't you think you have too much free time!"? No "Why don't you fuck off at once, Master, I'm sick of you!"? Wow... Now isn't that progress?' Harry thought sardonically. Either it was Scorpius' presence that hadn't allowed Draco to explode with anger, or he was just too tired of fighting Harry's hero complex, so he'd started giving up.

     But for Draco surprises had only just begun! A week had not yet passed since that pendant incident. Scorpius had already been put to bed more than an hour ago and Draco had just finished his work, so he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, too, because he felt beyond tired. But on the way to the room that he shared with his son he heard the arguing. He knew it was Potter and his wife and wasn't surprised, because he'd heard them wrangling many times before behind the closed door of their bedroom. As usual, he paid no attention to it, because it was none of his business, but when the subject of their arguing reached his ears, he stopped on his tracks. The annoying bint was revealing things that made Draco gape in shock.

"...Well, I'm tired of this! You make everyone pay for so-called injustice towards that ungrateful shit! First you put in Azkaban everyone who took part in the raid on Malfoys! Then this bastard tells you that he was supposedly raped and, of course, you believe him! And you put the so-called rapist in Azkaban, though I'm sure that Malfoy is just a liar; as he's always been! Finally, you bring his son here without even asking me if I want to see any more Malfoys in our house! You treat them like your family! Well, they are not, and they'll never be! You make muggles investigate some 'injustice' in the orphanage where this... this boy was apparently taken care of better than his useless git of a father would ever..."

"Enough!" Potter interrupted.

"No, don't shut my mouth! What's next, Harry?!" she shouted. It seemed one of them had finally remembered to put a silencing charm on their room, so he couldn't hear anything else.

     The blond was appalled. Potter had avenged the abuse of both Draco and Scorpius! People who'd killed Draco's parents were in Azkaban! Potter had put in Azkaban just about everyone who had made Draco suffer after his family had been found by the aurors. He was shocked, somehow awed and a little scared by all this information. He didn't even know how to react. On the one hand, he felt like he had almost nothing private left, which made him very nervous and mortified; on the other hand, he couldn't remember when he'd last felt this safe and protected. Oh, he remembered, it had not been long ago; and, specifically, it had been when Potter's warm, strong arms had been wrapped around him, but Draco hadn't been entirely conscious back then.

     Conflicting emotions were tearing him apart and he couldn't decide what he really felt about all of it. It was too much information and too suddenly.

     In one of the storerooms, in the corner, where some old papers were stored (Potter's wife had a strange habit to collect them), he found several that shed some light on the events that the bitch had been yelling about. All of it was true... At least, most of it, since it wasn't wise to trust the reporters completely. It had been on Potter's initiative that the murderers of Draco's parents had been sentenced to Azkaban. There were their photographs in the papers and Draco recognised almost all of them. And the one who had personally killed his parents, as well as some other ex-Death Eaters before them, had been sentenced to sixteen years (how funny that Draco, who had never killed anyone, had been sentenced to fifteen). And then he saw the photographs of his rapist in the later dated papers. He, of course, hadn't known how the bastard looked like, but when in one of the articles he read that it was Potter who'd arrested the man for the rape of some prisoner, Draco knew that it was him. Nathaniel Dawson was the bastard's name. Draco shuddered, trying to keep the memories away and refused to take a closer look at the photograph of that scum. It had been months since he'd let it rest in the past and he rarely thought about that awful night in the holding cell when he'd been so hurt and helpless. What he was looking for in the papers was his own name, the rape victim's name. And, to his shock, he hadn't found it. It was only written that the name, his name, had been carefully kept secret, unlike the name of the other victim who had testified upon a trial. Potter had obviously taken care about not letting anyone else know about Draco's disgrace.

     All three candles in the three-branched German silver candelabrum had almost burnt down, so Draco put the papers back in the piles and left, taking the candelabrum with him, since there was no light left in the house at nights. When he quietly entered his room, he kissed his sleeping little boy whose arms were wrapped around Nessie that Papa had given him as a present. The enchanted toy had obviously adjusted itself to make it more comfortable for the boy to hold it and rest against it.

     Draco knew there was no way he would be able to fall asleep this night, but he was very tired, so he took a shower, changed into his pyjama and lay down into his bed. 'Oh, Harry... What are you doing, and why?..'

___________________________

A/N: Now you probably understand why Al is older than James in this story. If not... Well, for some reason that I can't really explain, I decided that Albus will be better than James for Scorpius as a friend, so they had to be of the same age (in this story Al is only six months older than Scorp). I know we've read a very few lines about them in the book, but that information was enough for me to make my own conclusions.

Not important A/N: Before anyone asked, yes, I know about Kelpies (shapeshifting demonic horses, and, according to HP books, Nessie is one of them) :). But I can't help but like Nessie the way we, most muggles, imagine it, as a plesiosaur. Take a look at these lovelies on plesiosauria. com ('galleries' -> 'restorations')

PLEASE, be nice and REVIEW!
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Shards Of His Beloved