Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

You Can Run but not Hide	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3292 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Author's note: Many, many apologies for the delay! I had wanted to get it finished last week, but I've been rewriting sentences and even entire scenes because I didn't like how they were written at first and I wanted to create a good ending. To be honest, I'm still not entirely confident about this chapter - which turned out to be quite longer than I anticipated - but well ... *sighs*
HEED THE WARNINGS!
Thanks to the following reviewer: ANON (yes, he is)
Warnings: Angst, a shitload of angst; Dark Draco; short, implicit birth scene; very conflicted and confused Harry; implied character death; some sort of implied mind control. Just prepare for a heavy, last chapter.
I hope this chapter doesn't suck too badly *winces*
Part 6
He stared at the key for a long time; his heart beating so quickly it surprised him that it hadn't beat straight through his chest yet. He reached out with his hand, but snatched it back right before he could touch the key.
What the fuck was his key doing in Draco's private room? Why did the blond have his key? How had he managed to steal Harry's key without him knowing about it? He had kept his key on him the entire time and now that he wasn't working anymore, he had it locked up in a drawer in his own private room.
On an impulse he snapped, "Accio Auror Key!"
A floor below him two loud 'thumps' sounded and there was a buzzing noise, as of bees hovering above flowers, before his key came flying into the room, right into his palm. He stared at it before he looked at the same key resting in the bookcase.
Just as he suspected; the key lying in front of him in the bookcase was a copy. A very convincing copy. The particular Copy spell that was used for this ring, that even managed to copy the sliver of magic that lingered in his original ring, was classified as Dark Magic, precisely because it could copy someone's magic. Being caught using it would lead to at least two years in Azkaban.
Harry swallowed and his hand clenched tightly around his key. Knowing that his key had been copied and not stolen did nothing to answer the questions he had. When had Draco copied his key? How long had he had his key without the dark haired wizard being aware of it? Why had he felt the need to copy the key? The ring only allowed entrance to one part of the Ministry and that was the …
He inhaled sharply, eyes growing even wider, as suspicion settled in. Surely what he was thinking couldn't be true? There was no way Draco would have used the key to …
The sound of the front door opening made him freeze up, panic making his chest tighten.
A feeling he never thought he would have around the Veela.
"Harry?" Draco called out and there was the sound of him dropping his bag.
There was no time. He needed more time to – to …
Hastily he erected the Concealment Ward again and the copied ring disappeared behind it. He rose up, ignoring how his back protested faintly, and slipped his key into his pocket, turning around right on time for Draco to halt in the doorway, still wearing his robes which were dripping rain onto the floor.
His blond hair was plastered against his face; his cheeks slightly reddish and his eyes were slightly narrowed when Draco asked, "What are you doing here, Harry? I thought we had agreed to stay out of each other's private rooms if the other wasn't present?" He sounded weary, not angry, surprisingly enough.
Harry swallowed and offered a weak smile, knowing better than to reveal what he had just found now. He needed to do a bit more investigating; maybe there was a good reason – an innocent reason – why Draco had copied his key. Of course there was never a good reason to copy an Auror's key, but if the alternative was Draco having …
He clamped down on the thought, not allowing it to surface completely. His face was often an open book, as Draco liked to tease him, and it wouldn't do to make Draco suspicious now.
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry," he grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "But you left the window open and the wind was playing with it too much for my liking."
"You got annoyed by the noise?" Draco smirked and cocked his head.
"You would have got annoyed too," Harry retorted and crossed the room to help Draco get out of his robes. "Let's get rid of these before you catch a cold. Your mother told me that you're an absolute nightmare when you're ill."
"I am not an absolute nightmare!" Draco protested immediately and sniffed, not objecting to Harry opening the clasp and dropping the wet robes on the floor. "I simply am not fond of being ill."
"Nobody is," Harry remarked and rolled his eyes, pushing against Draco's shoulders to get him to back out of the room. "Go change into something else. That'll warm you up."
"I can think of something else to warm me up," Draco drawled and the underlying leer in his eyes made quite clear what he was thinking of.
"Maybe once your hands aren't freezing anymore," Harry smiled sharply and stepped out of the reach of Draco's grabby hands, ignoring how his body gave a slight twinge of interest.
"Fine." Grey eyes rolled before they softened and Draco pressed a soft kiss on Harry's lips; his hands reaching out to cup Harry's belly briefly. "I'll see you downstairs, okay?"
Harry nodded and turned around quickly; the sound of the door of Draco's private room being locked echoing around him. He swallowed and rested a hand on his belly. He didn't want to suspect Draco, didn't want to believe that the man he loved was capable of doing such horrible things, but he needed to know for certain.
Either there was a relatively innocent reason for the copying of Harry's key or there wasn't one. And if there wasn't a good reason …
He'd cross that bridge once he encountered it.
He had to wait two days before he could start his investigation. Draco had decided to not work at all during the weekend and instead sat down with Harry to look through Mrs. Malfoy's plans for the nursery; his hands never straying far from Harry's body.
Harry had never felt so conflicted before. On the one hand this was his lover, his mate, the father of his child, the one he had intended to spend the rest of his life with, the one who made him feel safer than anyone else could. On the other hand there was the possibility that he was hiding more than the occasional use of Dark Magic and it was this possible dark side that frankly frightened Harry.
He could deal with Dark wizards; hell, he had made it his job to fight them. He just couldn't deal with the thought that Draco might be one of them.
Draco left early Monday morning for a meeting with his mother, though it was clear that he much rather preferred staying home with Harry than visit his mother. He had been quite vague about what the meeting would entail and had only told the dark haired man that he would be home quite late. Plenty of time for Harry to investigate his private room.
Figuring that the chance of finding more wards was high now that he had found one already, Harry used the Ward Detection spell that every Auror learnt in their first year of the course. It had a rather simple incantation, but it would make every ward glimmer orange, so that it was like a beacon. The actual tearing down of the wards could only happen with the right counter-spell, but after a difficult case a few years ago, Harry had done his best to recognise the different kinds of wards and their counter-spells.
He hadn't expected to have to use that knowledge in his own house, though.
"Detego Filiolum," he spoke as soon as he had unlocked the door and entered the room. The early morning light was lazily creeping through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft glow.
As soon as the incantation left his lips, two places started to shimmer with an orange colour. The first place was in the bookcase where Harry had found the copied ring; the second one turned out to be right behind a painting of a potion's lab which was hung right behind Draco's desk. Harry had never seen the actual occupant of the painting, but he suspected Draco had hung it there for Snape in case the older man wanted to pay a visit.
The Potions Master wasn't present at the moment and Harry approached it wearily, wondering whether there was a secret safe behind the frame. The frame was placed on the floor and he conjured a dark cloth out of his handkerchief to drape it over the painting. With his luck, Snape would choose this exact moment to visit his painting and Harry could do without his questions.
Turning back to the now empty wall, he cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, studying the spot. There was clearly a ward shimmering on the wall, which took on the vague shape of a square. Upon looking closer, he inhaled sharply and let out a soft curse. There wasn't one ward, but two layered on top of each other. The close proximity between the two meant that he would only have ten seconds to utter the counter-spell for the last ward; any longer than that and Draco would be alerted that someone was messing with his ward.
The second ward was just one meant to alert the owner that there was a breach; comparable to the alarm systems in a Muggle house. The first one, on the other hand, was a strong Dispel Attention ward; like the name suggested this ward was meant to redirect the attention off whatever the ward was hiding and onto something else – preferably something located far away from the ward.
If his key had been put behind a Concealment ward, what could possibly be behind the Dispel Attention ward? Harry had a strong feeling he wouldn't like whatever he would encounter, but he needed to know. If he backed off now, it would keep gnawing at him.
There were fluttering movements in his belly; his son reacting to his agitation. "Sorry," he mumbled, caressing his stomach briefly in a soothing manner. He took a step back and raised his wand. "Here goes nothing. Dirigo Attentionem! Nihil Malus Est!"
The first ward melted away with a soft hissing sound, like water being poured into a hot pan. The second ward turned a bright green, the glow so intense Harry had to shield his eyes with his other hand, but it disappeared, fading away like smoke.
With both wards lowered now, Harry noticed that they had been hiding some sort of panel, of which the edges were slightly raised, casting a faint shadow on the wall. Brows furrowed, he cast several spells to detect whether there were any curses or spells meant to trap him on the panel.
There were none. It seemed that Draco had been confident enough that nobody would ever manage to lower his wards.
Or realise that he was hiding something, Harry amended silently. After all, if it hadn't been for that storm, Harry probably would never have expected that Draco was hiding something.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly to steady himself, and then murmured, "Alohomora!"
Nothing happened and Harry allowed himself a wry smile. That would have been a bit too easy.
On a whim he said, "Revelo Secretum!" A light purple beam shot out from his wand, zigzagged through the air and hit the panel right in the middle. The panel shook for a few seconds, as if it was fighting against the spell, but then swung open with a soft 'creak', revealing a small hole in the wall.
A small pile of parchment greeted Harry when he stepped closer and he raised an eyebrow. "What the hell?" he muttered and slipped his wand back into his pocket, retrieving the parchment out of the small hole in the wall.
His eyes widened and dread began to fill his stomach as he took in the information on the papers. There was a list of Ward Constructors with one name underlined once. Steven Looping.
His mind flashed back to Hales' file. Wards were constructed by Ward Constructor Master Steven Looping, based in Warwickshire. They were set up four years ago and since then had not been changed.
The list of Ward Constructors was followed by a list of days and hours listed next to them and it took Harry a moment before he realised with a start that he was looking at Hales' schedule in Saint Mungos, which detailed when he clocked in for an entire week before he died. The third parchment contained a list of potion ingredients, but Harry couldn't figure out what kind of potion they were meant to create. He suddenly wished he had paid better attention in Potions.
The fourth and last parchment had a whole list of names scrawled down on it and Harry recognised a couple of them as ones that had shown up in Frank's case file as the ones having lent him money.
His legs suddenly felt like they were made out of rubber and he sank down in the chair, feeling like he could vomit any second now. The papers stared at him, seemingly taunting him.
They seemed like such a random collection of information, seemingly useless, but they all connected back to cases Harry thought he had finished weeks ago.
All of a sudden the pieces of a puzzle Harry hadn't realised wasn't finished yet fell into place.
Hales' death hadn't been a suicide, he realised with growing horror. It had looked remarkably well like a suicide, but it hadn't been one. The proof of that was clenched in his hands right now. The list of Ward Constructors – Draco must have figured out which one of them had raised the wards around Hales' place and had contacted him so that he could slip inside the wards without setting off an alarm. Hales' file had a note that there hadn't been a forced entry – there wouldn't be one if one knew a way to get through the wards without setting them off.
The supposed alcohol abuse – Harry wouldn't be surprised if the list of ingredients combined together would form a potion that would mimic those effects well.
Why had Draco killed Hales, though? There was no reason for him to –
His breath hitched and he closed his eyes. "Fuck."
Hales had advised him to get an abortion; Draco clearly hadn't been happy with that when Harry had told him about it. Had he been angry enough to actually kill the Healer for his remark? Going by the documents: apparently so.
As for Frank … Frank's case would explain why Draco had copied the key; it would explain why he had a book titled Hidden Pathways of Legilimency with a chapter called Suggestions and Their Power. Draco would have needed the key to slip into the holding cells area undetected. Half an hour would have been long enough if the blond had been quick. Had he used Legilimency to make Frank believe he had killed Halcon? But why had Draco killed Halcon? Framing one of Harry's colleagues so that Harry would be left alone made sense in a sick sort of way, but the dark haired man couldn't come up with one motive as to why Halcon had needed to die. Draco and Halcon had never had any dealings with each other and Halcon had been on his way to Azkaban – so why had he been killed?
But Draco had to have been the one who killed Halcon – why else would he have needed the key and the book about Legilimency and the names of the people who had lent Frank money?
But the most important question of them all: why had Draco felt the need to actually kill these people? Harry was still in the dark about the reason why Halcon had to die, but it was clear that Hales had died because of his comment. The motive was clear, but Harry couldn't understand why the blond had done it. It wasn't as if they had to deal with Hales after that disastrous appointment again, so why had the man paid for that one comment?
How could Harry not have realised that he was living with a murderer?
Ice seemed to replace the blood in his veins and his breathing grew quick and shallow; his heartbeat loud in his ears. Had it only been these two victims? Or had there been more?
Why, why had Draco done this?
This wasn't something Harry could just forget about – or forgive. He could forgive the occasional use of Dark magic – depending on what kind of it was used – but he couldn't forgive murder. How could he continue to live with Draco, look into those grey eyes without wondering whether the man would kill again?
And yet, even with this discovery, he felt himself longing for the blond, found himself wanting to feel those arms around him, keeping him safe. Wanted nothing more than to surround himself with Draco's reassuring presence, soaking in his love and adoration and passion.
It made him sick.
Abruptly he rose up from the chair; clenching the papers in one hand.
This went way beyond what he could handle. He wanted nothing more than to believe that Draco was innocent, that he hadn't killed at least two people, but the proof was practically sticking its tongue out at him. There was too much damning evidence.
He couldn't do this alone. He needed help.
As he turned around to gather all the evidence in a bag, his heart shattered into pieces; tears running a salty track across his cheeks as his baby fussed inside of him.
It was over. Everything – all of this, the perfect life he had envisioned with Draco – over.
No going back; no forgetting or forgiving.
His head shot up when the door of his office creaked open and Ron looked at him apologetically – right before Fleur stepped into view.
"Ron?" Harry asked warily and sat up straighter; both of his hands resting on top of his belly.
After collecting the evidence, he had gone straight to Kingsley and told him what he had discovered and suspected. If his voice had broken off at some points, a bit choked, the older man hadn't remarked on it; he had only listened with eyes widening in growing horror. He had told Harry to wait in his office while he gathered a team to bring Draco to the Ministry to interrogate him; for obvious reasons Harry couldn't be in that team. Not that Harry had protested against that decision; the thought of having to face Draco while knowing he …
He couldn't do it. It might make a coward of him, but he just couldn't face Draco now. Not now when he felt raw, hollow and empty.
"Sorry, mate," Ron grimaced and rubbed the back of his head as he closed the door behind him. "I Floo called Hermione to let her know what was going on and Fleur was there for a visit. She insisted on coming here."
"'Ello, 'Arry," Fleur greeted him and halted next to his desk. Her light coloured eyes flitted towards his stomach before she appraised him calmly. "I 'ave heard what happened. 'Ow are you feeling?"
He couldn't stop a bitter chuckle from escaping. "Not exactly great at the moment," he answered flatly.
She hesitated; her long silver blonde hair swishing back and forth gently as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other one. "Are you … do you plan on staying in the same house?"
He blinked, taking off guard by the non sequitur comment. "I … haven't decided yet," he replied slowly and grimaced. "I'm not … really keen on staying there to be honest," he confessed and clenched his jaw tightly. Even though Draco had clearly contained his plans to one room – and Harry should have realised something was up when Draco had been so insistent that he couldn't be in that room without the blond present – the idea of staying in that house made Harry's skin crawl with revulsion. He didn't think he could ever be completely at ease in that house again.
She bit her lower lip and the gesture was so uncharacteristic for her that Harry frowned. "What?"
"I was thinking," she began slowly, tapping her long nails on his desk, "that you'd be safer living somewhere else now that you sent the Aurors to Draco."
"What? Why? Do you think he's going to hurt me?" he questioned and with a start he realised that he hadn't considered yet how Draco would react. Most likely betrayed; would he be angry enough to try to attack Harry? His throat felt suddenly dry and swallowing hurt. It wasn't like Draco would be happy about it.
Fleur cocked her head to the right and the odd gleam in her eyes made the dark haired wizard tense up. "Not 'urt, no. I don't think so." She paused and continued, "But Draco is a different Veela than I am. 'E might not 'urt you, but 'e won't be 'appy."
"He can stay with us then," Ron interjected, taking a step forwards; his eyes flashing with determination. "Hermione won't mind at all."
She shook her head. "'E will go to your place first. No, 'Arry needs to be in a place where Draco can't get to 'im."
"You're talking as if he will be able to evade the Aurors and come find me," Harry said, ill at ease. He knew that he should start thinking of Draco as a criminal and no longer as someone he loved, but that wasn't easy. Not even with knowing about Draco what he did.
"Aurors are not a match for a determined Veela," she replied curtly. "It is not safe for you to stay 'ere."
"What are you saying?" Ron asked warily; his forehead creased with a heavy frown.
"I know a place in France," Fleur answered calmly. "It is protected well. You can stay there until we're sure Draco can't get to you anymore."
"Wait, I need to leave the country?" Harry asked in disbelief. That wasn't what he had expected at all. He could understand why it would be better if he moved into another place, but a whole other country? Surely that wasn't necessary!
"Veela are very determined," Fleur repeated; the corners of her mouth pulling down in a frown.
"Yes, all right, but it's not like I can't defend myself," Harry pointed out annoyed.
She leant forwards; determination glinting in her eyes. "'Arry, I don't think you understand just how determined a Veela can be. The place I know can hold up against Veela – it has been used in the past to protect the people from enraged Veela."
"Look, I realise that these murders mean that Draco is dangerous, but I don't think he would actually attack me," Harry insisted and he frowned. Hadn't she just admitted that Draco wasn't likely to hurt him? "Not severely at least. I don't know how I know this, okay, but – I just know. He wouldn't do that."
He knew he sounded beyond ridiculous. Even though Draco hadn't confessed yet, there was more than enough evidence that he had killed at least two people. Considering that, it wouldn't be farfetched to believe that Draco would attack him as well in revenge because he had essentially betrayed the blond. But something in him told him that Draco wouldn't do that. He wouldn't attack his own mate.
The conflicted mess that were his emotions was causing a serious headache and he wanted nothing more than to sleep and forget that this awful day had ever happened.
"'Arry, it is important that you put space between you," Fleur said agitatedly and her nails tapped erratically against the desk. "It is better for you, trust me. If you don't want to do it for yourself, do it for your baby."
Green eyes closed and he swallowed heavily.
There wasn't really a choice after that particular argument.
Everything was arranged that same day. Harry had been put on indefinite leave; officially his file read that he had gone undercover in another country for a secret mission and would be off the radar for a long time.
Ron had gone with him to collect his belongings; the both of them hyper aware of their surroundings. Every second he had spent in his house – the house that would be no longer his, that he would never see again – he had expected to see Draco come flying into the house, demanding to know why the hell Harry was accusing him of murder. They were in and out of the house in less than an hour and there hadn't been any sign of the Veela. Harry had firmly ignored the way his heart had ached at the blond's absence.
Fleur had arranged for a special Portkey that would both get him to the new place without any stops in between and was safe for him to use in his condition. The place in question was a quant villa, in the deep south of France. It was surrounded by heavy and complicated wards and as an extra precaution it had been put under the Fidelius Charm with Fleur as the Secret Keeper. Ron and Hermione had offered to be the Secret Keeper, until Fleur had explained that it would make more sense for her to be one, as Ron and Hermione were too close to Harry – nobody would expect Fleur to be in possession of the secret. It was a fool proof plan.
Harry had free access in the house and the surrounding garden, but Ron had advised him to keep inside the wards as much as possible until they were sure Draco couldn't get to him anymore.
It was ironic how Harry was once again locked up in his own residence – only instead of the Dursleys, it was the threat of Draco that forced him to remain inside.
Living without Draco, trying to deal with the fact that the man he loved turned out to be a murderer – it was hell, pure hell. Rationally Harry knew he had made the right choice, but emotionally he ached.
He wanted Draco with him, wanted to put his arms around the man, feel the man's body against him. He needed his presence like he needed air and that scared the hell out of him. He had never realised how dependent he had become on having Draco's presence near him and it was terrifying to realise that he would most likely never see him again.
There would be no more teasing smirks, deep chuckles. No longer would he feel lips curling up in a smile underneath his own; no longer would his fingers trail through silk soft, blond hair. No longer would his magic sing with delight at feeling it link with that of the Veela. He wouldn't be able to bask in the other man's presence anymore, knowing that he was loved and cared for.
Draco wouldn't feel their son kicking anymore; wouldn't be there for the birth or see his son. He wouldn't be there to see him take his first steps, say his first words, hear his first laugh … They couldn't be a family anymore.
It wasn't possible anymore and that hurt.
Fleur acted as his messenger for now. She had honestly told him that the Aurors had brought in Draco for interrogation and they had forced him to take Veritaserum – admitting that he had indeed killed both Halcon and Hales. Hales because of his comment about their baby and Halcon because he had attacked Harry – Frank had merely been a convenient escape goat. They had put him in a holding cell after his interrogation was finished – only to discover him gone the next day. Somehow Draco had managed to escape and so far he had managed to evade the Aurors hunting him down.
They had no idea where he was hiding now. So Harry was forced to remain behind the wards; his friends fearing that Draco would come find him.
It scared Harry how much he longed for that to happen.
He was plagued by nightmares. He had thought he had experienced the worst nightmares when he still had been linked to Voldemort's mind, but the ones he had now terrified him even more. They shouldn't, really; it wasn't like he dreamt about being killed or chased or had to watch how everyone he loved was killed off one by one. They were actually rather simple – and maybe that was why they terrified him so much.
It was just him in a bleak, empty room, devoid of doors and windows. Wherever he looked, he just saw white. White that seemed to stretch out endlessly, even though when he reached out with his hands, his fingers touched cold walls. The room on its own wasn't so scary; weird, but not scary.
No, it was the feeling of utter hopelessness, of feeling completely abandoned, adrift, cast aside that had him waking up with a pounding heart, sweat dripping down his face and harsh breathing that was way too loud.
He didn't know why that scared him so much. Why that made him fear falling asleep.
After several weeks he confessed to Fleur what he was dreaming about. It was a couple of days after his birthday – which he had spent alone, feeling his baby flutter and kick inside of him – and she had brought him presents from the Weasley family, Andromeda, Teddy – who had yet again asked when he could see his godfather again – and Hermione. It was deemed too risky to have Hermione and Ron visiting him in case Draco followed them and so it was only Fleur who occasionally went to see him.
She had informed him solemnly that the nightmares were a result of him being separated from Draco. The bond between them was trying to bring them together again, giving Harry nightmares so that he would seek out Draco to get rid of the feeling of utter terror.
It made the dark haired man realise how little he actually knew about Veela. She had given him a couple of books that had detailed information about Veela, their habits, their mating rituals and the various branches that existed.
Reading those, absorbing the information like a sponge, seemed to lessen the feeling of loneliness in his nightmares. Made him feel closer to Draco, even if that was only through words.
He would take whatever he could get.
Time went on, however, and with each week that passed his stomach grew and grew. He spent his days in the nursery, painting and repainting the walls and rearranging the furniture, trying to distract himself from the loneliness that was threatening to overwhelm him with every day he spent without Draco.
He felt pathetic. He had always prided himself on being independent, on being strong and able to take care of himself, but now not a day went by without him wishing he had never discovered the Auror's key in Draco's room. If he hadn't been curious, if he had remained oblivious, he would still be with Draco. He would have him with him, feeling their baby kick, have him help with the nursery, counting down the days until they could hold their son in their arms.
They would be a family.
Instead he was alone in a remote villa in the south of France, with his only occasional visitor being Fleur.
How had it come to this?
On the fifteenth of October, on a dreary, rainy day, his water broke. A month before, Fleur had brought him the potions he needed to ingest in order to be prepared for the birth. The taste had been foul and he had spent three days retching into the toilet while cramps assaulted him.
The cramps back then were nothing compared to the burning, fierce pain he was subjected to now as the contractions started to build up and slam into him like waves against a cliff.
He had been given an enchanted button and when he pressed down on it, it alerted Fleur that he had gone into labour. Half an hour and some pacing in the living room later, she arrived with Healer Daler who had to swear a vow that she wouldn't reveal Harry's location.
As quickly as relief had filled him at seeing help arrive – even though it wasn't the one he actually wanted – as quickly it left him again when they had moved to his bedroom and Daler had reached out to check his progress.
Before he realised what he was doing, his magic was lashing out, slamming Daler against the wall and restricting her. Every movement she made had panic growing inside of him and it was only Fleur's soft touch on his shoulder that made him focus on her.
"I know what's wrong," she murmured and sighed; her eyes hooded. "I had 'oped that the bond would have thinned out by now, but that is not the case."
"What – what are you talking about?" he asked and groaned when a new contraction swept over him.
"The bond between you and Draco is still too strong," she said and she looked pained. "Normally a Veela's mate only allows their mate to help them with the birth, because they feel too vulnerable. Your magic is reacting because of the bond; it doesn't want the Healer's help."
"Fuck," he muttered and closed his eyes resigned. He remembered reading about it. Veela were very protective of their family and didn't want anyone else to help their mate during labour. If they had still been together, Draco would have been the one to help him with the birth.
But they weren't together now and he hadn't expected his magic actually reacting so violently. How deeply ingrained was this bond that it could even make his magic act up even if Harry himself welcomed the help?
And if his magic wouldn't allow Daler's help, what was he going to do then?
Against his will, a whimper escaped him and his fingers clenched tightly around the folds in his sheets. Would he ever be free of the bond?
"If it is okay with you, I will help you," Fleur suggested, rubbing his back soothingly when he leant forwards, gasping, as he dealt with the sharp pain of another contraction. "I'm part Veela, so I might be able to help. Is that okay?"
He pursed his lips and nodded once. It wasn't like he had much choice, right? Draco wasn't here, wouldn't be here, and Fleur was. He couldn't lose his baby; he just couldn't. It didn't matter that his son's other father had killed people and was a Dark Wizard; his son was innocent, the most innocent of them all in the cluster fuck that had become Harry's life, and he couldn't stand the thought of losing him.
Daler was, while still a bit reluctant, willing to leave the room and wait downstairs as soon as Harry's magic had calmed down – which only happened once Fleur had let out some of her Veela side.
Even with Fleur's support and her soothing presence, it took fifteen gruelling hours before his son finally entered the world. His loud, piercing cry of dismay was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, Harry decided, still reeling from the excruciating pain; feeling light headed, sore and empty.
It was over. His son was finally here.
"What is his name?" Fleur asked softly as she carefully placed the now cleaned up baby in Harry's arms.
Emerald green eyes studied the tiny being pressed against his chest. A small tuft of dark hair decorated the boy's scalp; his face was still scrunched up and red, but he wasn't crying anymore. Dark pinkish plump lips smacked together a few times and then light blue, grey coloured eyes blinked open, staring right into green ones.
His breath was taken away and he licked his lips, blinking away the few stray tears that were threatening to spill over. He hadn't considered any names yet – which was quite stupid in hindsight – but all at once he knew it.
The perfect name for a perfect little boy.
His mouth curled up in a weak smile and he stroked his son's plump cheek with a shaking finger, marvelling at the softness of the skin. "Scorpius," he whispered; eyes still locked on his beautiful son.
Fleur paused, but inclined her head. "Scorpius it is," she murmured.
"Welcome into the world, Scorpius," he whispered and pressed a kiss on Scorpius' forehead.
His tears were ignored by the both of them – the chasm that seemed to widen in Harry's chest was a lot harder to ignore, though.
But he had to go on. There was no turning back. He had a son to take care of now; it was time to leave the dreams behind and focus on reality. He owed that to his son.
The sound of light rain pitter-pattering on the ground was cut off when he closed the door behind him. The weather in April in the south of France was rainier than he had expected, but his garden was growing well. He had just taken some carrots and onion he had planted so that he could make dinner for himself tonight.
It was now almost a year since he had started living in the villa and the urge to leave the place and return to England was growing more and more with each week that passed. It wasn't that he was absolutely miserable in this place, but he longed to be back home, to be able to see his friends whenever he wanted. He wanted to go out without having to worry about wards and he wanted to take up his job again. It wasn't that he was in absolute need of money – his parents' and Sirius' inheritance made sure that he had enough to take care of himself and Scorpius – but he couldn't do nothing for the rest of his life.
The Aurors still hadn't found Draco; it had been months since they last had a lead and they weren't any closer to capturing him.
Harry knew he should be worried about that, but all he felt was some sort of restlessness and the desire to return home. Whether that had to do with the bond or just his own homesickness was something he didn't like to examine closer.
Because the awful thing was that he still loved Draco. He wanted to hate him, was afraid of what the blond man could do, but at the same time he still longed to be back with him. It was incredibly fucked up and disgusting and he was starting to fear that this confusion would never change.
Taking care of his son did help ease the feeling of loneliness he had been plagued with through the rest of his pregnancy. Fleur had theorised that it was because Scorpius was partly Draco's and the bond recognised the link between father and son.
It didn't matter to Harry. He loved his son more than he thought was possible and in a sick, twisted way he was grateful for Draco to have given him Scorpius.
Because without Scorpius, Harry wasn't so sure whether he would have been able to go on with his life without Draco. Another terrifying thought he didn't like to think about.
Lost in his thoughts it took the dark haired wizard a moment before the crying broke through his musings and he shook his head; a tender smile appearing on his face as he put the vegetables on the kitchen table and walked up the staircase.
"I'm coming, Scorpius," he called out. The six month old boy probably needed his diaper changed. That or his son wanted attention and he was all too willing to give him that.
The crying stopped when he reached the door of Scorpius' nursery and he chuckled, saying, "What? Figured you got what you wanted so you don't need to cry anymore?", as he swung the door gently open. He stepped inside, looking down to avoid tripping over the raised threshold, and laughed softly. "I'm here now, so what do you - "
He froze.
Scorpius was babbling something incomprehensibly, laughing brightly and waving his chubby arms in the air – as he was being held by Draco.
Silver eyes flashed dangerously when they landed on Harry. "Hello, darling," the Veela purred; the corners of his mouth curled up in a smirk. "I've missed you. Did you miss me too?"
It was as if Draco had hit him with a Petrificus Totalus: he couldn't move. He willed his legs, his arms, his hands to move, but nothing happened. It was as if his body was wrapped up in unforgiving ice; the rushing of his blood too loud in his ears as panic threatened to overwhelm him.
"I know you missed me," Draco continued confidently, seemingly not bothered by Harry's lack of response. "But now we don't have to miss each other anymore, do we? We can finally be a family. Our son is so beautiful, Harry." He caressed Scorpius' cheek, who was blinking up at him innocently. "Just like I imagined. I could feel it, you know? The day you went into labour. I could feel your pain, your panic, your worry. Your happiness when our little boy finally came into the world. It made me wish I could have been there with you. I could have helped you. It would have been easier for you if I had been there with you." This time his features darkened and his stare was piercing. "I'm sure you can understand that I was quite upset that I couldn't be there to witness the birth of my own son. Really, Harry, when has running away ever been the solution?"
He shook his head disapprovingly and cooed softly when Scorpius fussed slightly. When he looked back up, his face had brightened again and he looked relaxed. "But that's all in the past now. I understand why you were unsettled with your discoveries; I should have realised that. But no matter. I could have done without the Aurors breathing down my neck, but the most important thing is that we're back together again."
"H-how – how did you get in?" Fear was slowly strangling him and his hand automatically shot to his pocket – only to realise that he had left his wand in the kitchen.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
The shark like grin spreading out over Draco's face had his stomach cramping with pure and utter fear.
"How does one find a place that has been put under the Fidelius Charm?" Draco hummed, cocking his head. His eyes glittered with sadistic pleasure. "Very smart, you know. Choosing the Delacour girl as the Secret Keeper. Clever, but not enough for me."
"Wha- what did you do to her?" Harry demanded, his heart lodged into his throat. How long had it been since he last had seen Fleur? Two weeks.
But he hadn't thought anything of it because two weeks were nothing. Her visits had never been regular after all.
"I just persuaded her to give up the secret," Draco smiled and his smile was painful to look at, because it was the same mischievous one he had always given Harry whenever he had planned a fun date for the two of them.
"Ron and Hermione – they will know," Harry stated; his throat dry. He didn't dare to imagine what Draco had done to Fleur. "They will be here soon."
Draco threw his head back and laughed; the joyful sound grating Harry's ears. "Really, Harry, do you have so little faith in me? They won't come here; the secret is safe."
His heart thudded painfully as the implication slowly sank in. "You – you switched Secret Keepers?" The words came out strangled and he started panting; panic seizing control over him. If there was another Secret Keeper, nobody would ever be able to find them; not unless the Secret Keeper divulged the secret.
"Well, I can't have people disturbing us, now can I?" Draco asked rhetorically; a hint of amusement colouring his voice. "It's okay; you don't have to be alone anymore. This villa is a bit smaller than I would have preferred, but as long as I have you and our son, I can deal with living anywhere. It's going to be all right now. I will take care of - "
"Don't, Draco, just – don't," Harry said, shaking his head; cold sweat breaking out. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He had been safe for nearly a year; everything was supposed to get better.
Silver eyes flashing up was the only warning he got before Draco was suddenly standing in front of him, looming over him; his dark wings hovering ominously behind him. Harry was backed up against the wall and Scorpius was thrusted into his arms, forcing him to hold him against his chest or risk dropping the baby.
He wanted to recoil from the cool hand cupping his cheek, but sharp nails resting against his skin made him freeze up instead as he realised just how close those sharp talons were against his eyes.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Draco murmured and the odd crooning sound rose up again. "I don't think you really understand what is going on here. You're my mate, Harry. I Claimed you," he hissed and his fingers clamped down on a particular spot in Harry's neck.
A gasp was torn out of Harry as intense pleasure suddenly coursed through him, practically drowning the fear and disgust. A fog descended over Harry's mind and his limbs felt oddly loose; his legs weak like jelly. His knees buckled as pleasure continued to get poured into his system and only Draco pressing his body tightly against Harry's managed to keep him upright.
Between them Scorpius babbled happily; his big grey eyes blinking up at Harry innocently.
"It doesn't matter how far you go, I will always find you," Draco stated; his dark wings ruffling slightly. "We're bonded forever; nothing will take you from me. This Mark is proof you're mine," he growled and pressed down harder in Harry's neck.
Dark Veela.
There hadn't been much information about Dark Veela in the books Fleur had given him. The few paragraphs dedicated to them had caused Harry to have nightmares for weeks. Dark Veela never let their mate, their Thrall, go. Other Veela would be able to deal with rejection, but Dark Veela wouldn't. They didn't allow rejection. Once they had marked their mate, bitten them in their neck and drank some of their blood, they would be able to find their mate wherever they went, no matter the distance. The Mark ensured that; it acted as some sort of permanent Tracking Charm.
They were also the only Veela with black wings. How had Harry not realised this before?
He had never stood a chance. Not with being a Dark Veela's Thrall. It had not been a matter of if, but when Draco would find him.
They all had deluded themselves into believing he was safe from Draco behind the wards. In reality, Draco had merely been biding his time, figuring out where exactly his Thrall had been hidden.
He never had any chance.
"I missed you very much this past year, darling," Draco breathed in his ear, shifting until their hips brushed against each other. Silver grey eyes glanced down when Scorpius babbled something and the blond smiled. "But we're going to make up for the lost time. We're a family now and nobody will ever come between us anymore, I promise you that."
"No, please," Harry pleaded, but he felt weak; all his strength leaving him the longer he stayed pressed up against Draco. It was as if the blond was taking away his energy, subduing him and it was with horror that he realised that was exactly what the Veela was doing. The bond between them would make sure that Harry would never think of going against Draco ever again. The bond hadn't weakened because of the distance at all; it had merely been lying dormant, ready to surge upwards once more once the Veela had found his mate.
He would never be free again.
A dark smirk graced Draco's lips as he tenderly brushed his fingers over Harry's cheek. He brushed a soft kiss against slack lips and cupped their son's head carefully. His smile was both beautiful and menacing when he looked up at Harry again.
"You can try to run, Harry, but you can't hide from me."
Not now. Not ever.
Outside the rain continued to fall down gently. Somewhere in the distance a raven croaked triumphantly.
AN2: Nearly the end of December and I finally finished the Halloween themed fic *drops down* Let it be known that my time management sucks.
But here you have it: the complete ending of the fic. I hope it isn't as bad as I fear it is *winces* Finding the right words was a lot harder than I anticipated and I can only hope that I didn't mess up too much *grimaces*
Again, my apologies for the delay. For the last time please leave a review behind with your thoughts; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I hope to see you all in my future stories! There will be two more Drarry oneshots posted this year, one of which is a Christmas themed one.
Cuddles
Melissa
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You Can Run but not Hide