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This Body is My Prison	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 25130 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

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Part VI: Identity

It was with no small amount of apprehension that Cassie abandoned the sanctuary of the room and stepped out into the main area of the little cabin.

It was simple, and aside from the lavatory and the other bedroom, everything else had been crammed into one large space. On the left-hand side was the sitting room, complete with a bookcase full of musty old tomes, and on the right side was the kitchen and dining area, both of which held furniture that had clearly seen better days. It was rickety and warped, paint was peeling from the walls, and she could smell the faint odour of mould underlying some sort of pine-scented cleaner. Despite the clear attempts Draco seemed to have made to make it habitable, the ceiling was still dominated by cobwebs and thick layers of dust, making the once-handsome wood look grey with age.

Of course, she had not expected anything fancy, but it was still something of a shock to see it. Given that it was midwinter, there was also a deep, damp chill in the air that the crackling fire seemed incapable of dispelling all on its own, and she shivered as she pulled her son more securely against her chest.

When she had stepped out, Draco, seated about five feet from her in front of the fire, immediately gave her a once-over, and she felt herself flush under his gaze. She had chosen a pair of the women's jeans, a fitted green T-shirt, and an overlarge jumper to wear, and she revelled in the ability to wear something comfortable, instead of revealing. Her undergarments, too, were a new experience for her, and were made of cotton, and not itchy lace, which also made for a nice change.

“You look...good,” Draco said at last, and she smiled sheepishly at him.

“Thanks,” she replied, “I feel loads better.” Encouraged by the compliment, she stepped farther into the main area of the cabin as she continued, “I know I've said it a lot, but...thank you. There is, ah, one thing that I'll be needing that you seemed to have forgotten about, though.”

Draco cocked a confused eyebrow at her, as though confused as to what he may have forgotten, and Cassie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Ah...feminine products.”

“Oh, oh. That...stuff,” Draco stuttered, and he went very red. Suddenly, she had a vivid flashback of one of her summers at the Burrow with Ron, and Ron's ridiculous reaction when Ginny had thrown a sealed tampon at him.

She'd never seen anyone scream quite that loudly or that high before.

But staring at Draco now, while he tried to work through his embarrassment for having forgotten something so basic, she was grateful that he seemed to be handling it a great deal better than Ron probably would have.

“I'll...I'll pick them up,” Draco said at last, his face still very red. “Er, do you have a preference to what kind?”

“I'll write it down for you, don't worry,” she replied with a small amused smile, “because of what Voldemort did to me, I haven't exactly needed them for a long while, but I sort of do now.”

Draco nodded a little, and looked up at her with an apologetic frown while he winced slightly.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “it's just...it's never come up before, so I've never had to purchase such a thing.”

“I don't imagine that your mother was the type to ask you to pop to a chemist and pick hers up for her, eh?” she asked, and Draco's flush reasserted itself at once.

“Definitely not,” Draco replied as Cassie approached him and sat in the armchair opposite. She could feel his eyes following her every movement, and she could not decide whether or not she liked the feeling of being watched like this. The look did not carry the same hungry expression that Voldemort's always used to, but the longing in his silvery gaze was hard to miss.

They sat in silence for several long minutes, while outside it had begun to snow. It was awkward, but not painfully so, but at the same time, she found that she had no idea how to have a conversation with her once-enemy, now saviour.

“Have you looked at the memory yet?” Draco asked gently, and she immediately shook her head.

“No,” she replied, “I know that I need to, to...believe it, I guess, but I don't want to see him again, either.” She shivered, and kept her gaze fixed on the babe sleeping in her arms.

“I think it might be good for you to view it,” Draco said, “it will help you get past it.”

“It should have been me,” she whispered softly, “I should have been the one to kill him. When did I get so...so...weak?”

“You're not weak,” Draco replied fiercely, “you're one of the strongest people that I know. It's not written that you needed to kill the bastard—”

“—yes it was,” she interrupted softly, and looked up to catch the blond's eye. “You saw Professor Snape's memories. Neither can live while the other survives. Trelawney had a vision, Voldemort chose me as his enemy, which means that I was supposed to do it...”

“No,” Draco cut her off, and shook his head. “Nowhere does it say that you had to be the one to do it. It only said that one of you must die...in the end. That...” Draco trailed off as what little colour was left in his face left it, and he dropped his gaze to his knees. There was a wide-eyed horror there that Cassie recognized immediately, and she almost wished that she didn't.

Swallowing nervously, she reached across the space between them and took his hand.

Draco started a little at the sudden touch, and seemed to debate with himself for a moment before he threaded his fingers with hers. He glared down at his lap, and seemed to be caught somewhere between anger and misery.

“I am thankful that he's gone, Draco,” she said softly, and squeezed his hand, “I just hate that you had to do such a thing. But, when the dust settles, as you phrase it...you'll be viewed as a hero. The man who defeated Voldemort.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Draco replied with a humourless laugh, and shook the sleeve of his robes down, just enough to display the hideous mark upon his forearm. “This...thing will ensure that I'll never be seen as anywhere near that of a good person, even if I did kill the Dark Lord.”

“To me, you're a hero,” Cassie said, and felt herself flush at the distinct breathlessness of her voice. Draco's gaze snapped up, his eyes a little wide, and she looked away quickly. “I just mean...you saved me. Voldemort made you do those...things to me, and ever since I woke up here, you haven't tried anything, you've just taken care of me. I...I don't think I could ever thank you enough.”

The brush of a thumb over the back of her hand startled her out of her slight daze, and she looked back to Draco, who was regarding her strangely. It was the familiar look of longing and desire that she had seen many times before, but paired with it was something else, too.

Love.

Whether it was true love or simple affection it was difficult to say, but the look was still enough to make her heart flutter in a way it never had before. Draco shifted his grip on her hand, closing both of his over it for a moment, then lifted her knuckles to his lips, and brushed the back of them in a feather-light kiss.

He didn't speak, but continued to stare at her, as though he had no idea how to verbalize what he was feeling. Cassie felt a lump settle in her throat, and she looked away from her blond companion while she readjusted her hold on her sleeping child. She wasn't certain why she felt like she wanted to cry, and still at the back of her mind, part of her chided herself for such weakness.

“Cassie?” Draco said uncertainly, his tongue stumbling a little over the name, as though he was not quite used to it yet. “Are you all right?”

“I-I'm sorry,” she said with a small hiccough, while she pulled her hand away from Draco, and he let go at once. “I d-don't even know why I'm crying.”

“It's not really your fault,” he said gently, “estrogen makes you react that way.”

“What's that, some sort of hex?”

Draco stared at her, his eyes a little wide, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

“Were you born this stupid, or were you dropped on your head as a child?” he asked, and Cassie sputtered.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” she replied, and both of them smirked a little at the familiarity of the statement, “just answer the question.”

“It's a hormone in your body,” he explained, though his tone still indicated that he thought that Cassie was particularly idiotic for not knowing what it was. “Women produce more than men, usually, and you can sometimes get emotional more easily, it's not your fault.”

“I still don't like it,” she mumbled as she calmed down, and the swell of emotion began to recede, “it makes me feel...” she trailed off and shook her head.

“Tears are not a weakness,” Draco countered almost at once, “a true weakness is when you hide every emotion behind a stone wall, and you never let anyone in. Real strength—true strength is taking the chance of letting someone see the real you, and being unashamed of it.”

Cassie was uncertain what she could say to that, and merely nodded a little, while her gaze dropped back down to her sleeping infant. He hadn't been asleep for very long, but she was sure that it was only a matter of time before he woke, demanding another feed.

“There is something more pressing, however,” Draco said suddenly, and Cassie turned to look at him with an arched brow.

“And what is that?”

“Well, because you let your friends in on everything, they know you're alive now. I know they'll want to see you,” Draco explained without looking up. “Granger was practically having kittens when I told them that you were alive, but I was uncertain what you would choose to do when this was all over, assuming we managed to defeat the Dark Lord.” Draco paused and looked up at Cassie, his expression uncertain. “All they know is that you're alive, I haven't told them what the Dark Lord did to you, or what he forced you...or me...to do. They know that you're here, but they promised to keep their distance until you felt ready for visitors, but Granger still calls through the Floo practically every day asking for you.”

“I still don't know,” she replied softly, and her hold tensed on her child. “I feel so...confused about everything. In my head, I sometimes feel like a girl, and sometimes like a bloke, and I just...I don't know which is the real me anymore. A-and what if Hermione and Ron can't accept what I've been turned into, or what if they think that my child will grow up to be evil, like his father? And what if—”

A soft hand moved to cover hers, and the sudden touch caused her to break off mid-sentence. Her gaze shifted back to Draco, while he reached up tentatively, and brushed his fingers across her cheek. It tickled, and she felt her skin break out in gooseflesh at the minor touch.

“You are...so lovely, Cassie,” he said softly, reverently, “no matter who you choose to be, you will always be the same person at your core—passionate, loving, and, of course, brave to the point of stupidity.” He smirked when she laughed weakly at the comment. “They are your friends; and I cannot see them rejecting you just because you look a little different. Your child...he is still your child. And they will know better than anyone that with you as his parent, there is no chance that he will grow up to be the next Dark Lord. As for whether you're female or male...” he paused, and a faint smile flickered at the corners of his mouth, as though he was about to let her in on some sort of great secret. “Who says that you can't be both?”

~*~

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

“Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?” Draco asked rhetorically, and Cassie arched an eyebrow at him. “Don't answer that,” he said quickly, and she laughed.

“Well, my life is in your hands,” she said as she sank into the chair in front of the pair of them, and Draco snorted as he brandished his wand.

“It's just hair, don't be a drama queen. If I mess it up, I'll just regrow your hair and try again.”

“Somehow that is not helping with my confidence in your hair-styling skills,” Cassie replied, and closed her eyes as she felt Draco's angular, artist's hands run through her thick locks. It made her scalp tickle, and despite her reluctance to trust Draco Malfoy with her hair, she felt herself relaxing. The little weight of her son in her lap certainly helped, and she felt Draco part her hair and pin part of it up and out of the way.

“All right, here we go...”

Cassie screwed her eyes shut and tensed. At this, she heard Draco huff in annoyance, but he didn't speak as he began to mutter under his breath, and she felt some of the weight of her hair disappear.

It took a very long time. Voldemort had liked her hair long, and at all times it had been styled in an immaculate set of curls. Now, she could feel Draco hacking most of it off, and the weight of it lessened more an more with every passing minute. Eventually, she heard the soft sound of him putting away his wand and plucking up one of the homemade hair potions that he had brewed, and an instant later she could feel his hands running through her hair. Based on the way he was doing so, he must have cut off a lot of hair, but she found herself not caring very much. It was freeing to be rid of it, but at the moment she was far too distracted by the gentle fingers running through her hair to focus on anything else.

“Cassie, you can open your eyes now.”

Draco sounded as nervous as she felt, and slowly, she cracked her eyes open. Her companion was holding out a round mirror, and the person that she saw staring back at her was so familiar, and yet so different. It was amazing, really, what a single haircut could really do.

The back and sides Draco had cut very close to the skin and rested flat against her scalp. The top of her head was longer and looked strangely windblown, artfully tousled where once it would have more closely resembled a bird's nest.

Beyond how nice it looked, the haircut made her recognize part of who she used to be. She could see Harry Potter again, resting just below the surface of the feminine face that Voldemort had built. Overcome with emotion, her eyes brimmed with tears. Draco's face fell, and he whipped out his wand.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, I'll just—” he began, but she held up a hand to silence him.

“No, I like it, Draco,” she said quickly, though there was still a croaky quality to her voice. “Really, I do,” she continued when he looked doubtful. “I just...I can see me again.” Her eyes brimmed with tears again, and she tilted her head skyward to try and stop them from falling, though at the same moment the bundle in her arms stirred, and she looked down to see her child waking up, and immediately reached out to pat at her chest while he babbled. Without missing a beat, she hiked up her shirt and allowed him to eat while Draco puttered about nearby, putting away the potions and pointedly trying to not look at her chest.

“I've thought of a name,” she said in an attempt to distract Draco, and his gaze snapped up at once.

“Oh?”

“Davin,” she said, and he chuckled.

“Very fitting,” he replied, “I am certain your parents and godfather would have heartily approved of it.”

Cassie stroked Davin's locks as he suckled at her chest, and within minutes he was asleep again. She pulled down her shirt and adjusted herself, still distinctly uncomfortable with how big her chest was. Draco had offered to help her try and shrink it, but until Davin finished breastfeeding, she wasn't keen to mess around with that part of her body—not yet.

Adjusting her hold on her son, Cassie lifted him up and followed Draco from the bedroom and back to the sitting room. Draco was frowning at her, though she could not work out what was causing the look of disapproval.

Cassie curled up on the sofa, her back pressed against the armrest as she gently laid down the tiny bundle in her lap, he resting against the dip where her thighs pressed together. She had chosen a short skirt today, but with the pair of black tights she had on underneath, she did not feel terribly exposed. Davin slept on, but reached out in sleep for her, and coiled his tiny hand around her index finger.

“He's very attached to you,” Draco observed as he kept his voice soft to avoid waking him.

“He is,” she replied as she stared down at him, and reached out a hand to gently brush her fingers along his chubby cheek. Her breath hitched and her stomach clenched a little, her fear returning as she was reminded again of just how much of Tom Riddle she could see in him. In an instant, Draco was there.

He wrapped both of his hands around her free one, and he pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her gaze shifted to him, her eyes a little wide and shiny as she tried to calm herself down.

“He is not the Dark Lord,” Draco murmured softly, “he is your son. Yours. Of your blood, your flesh, your sweat, and your tears. He is not going to become any incarnation of Tom Riddle.”

“B-but what if...?” she began, but Draco cut her off quickly.

“No,” he said firmly, “Cassie, listen to me.” She refocused her attention on the young man, and tried to blink away her frightened tears. “He is not Tom Riddle, no more are you Petunia Dursley.”

“How do you know her—”

“—let me finish,” he interrupted, and Cassie snapped her mouth shut. “He is not the Dark Lord, and never will be. Would you really push away your own child because of who his father was? Look at him.” Draco paused and let go of her hands, but her gaze was still transfixed on Draco, and it took a moment for his words to register in her mind. “Look,” he said again, and she dropped her gaze to the little bundle in her lap. He was still dozing peacefully, his little hand firmly coiled around her finger.

“He is your son,” Draco whispered softly, “he needs you.”

A choking sob escaped past her lips, and she tugged her hand from Draco's hold and brought it to her mouth. Draco shifted closer, and Cassie adjusted her position so that she could lay her head on his shoulder. Tears continued to trickle from her eyes and dampened his robes, but he didn't seem to care as he sat there and held her, stroking her hair as she cried.
A/N: Davin means “little deer”.
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This Body is My Prison