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Self-fulfilling Prophecy	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6342 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make any profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Author's note: And here I am with the next chapter!

Thanks to the following reviewers: AnonymousTigress and LovelyRaven (thank you so much for your review! It's one of the sweetest I've received so far!)

Warnings: some angst; small argument

I hope you'll like this chapter!

Chapter 7: Scratches and Bumps

The young boy had a difficult time trying to reconcile the image of the strong, powerful Romanian Longhorn with the shattered pieces spread out over the floor. Dazed, he sank down on his knees and his fingers closed around the small, golden gemstone that had been used for the dragon's eye; he didn't feel the sharp ridges of the broken pieces cutting into his vulnerable skin, blood welling up out of the thin, small cuts, when he retracted his hand to cradle the stone against his chest – the only piece that had been left unscathed by the fall.

His lungs constricted as if something was squeezing them together and he found it hard to breathe; his breathing leaving him in sharp, abrupt exhales as a tremble went through his entire body, running through his muscles. Something burned behind his eyes and he gasped, the sound coming out as a high pitched whine, when hot tears spilled over his cheeks, leaving behind two thin, hot trails.

The gemstone quickly warmed in his hand and he squeezed it tightly; his ears ringing loudly as he stared blankly at the broken pieces that had been the magnificent dragon.

Uncle Draco had entrusted him with the dragon, despite it being a precious gift from his mum, had trusted Albus to take care of it. Now it was broken in hundreds of pieces, not even resembling the dragon in the slightest anymore.

Even more than feeling sad by the loss of the magnificent statue, he was scared of what Uncle Draco would think of him now. He hadn't even had the dragon in his possession for a week and it was already broken; Uncle Draco wouldn't trust him with anything anymore, would probably cease to be nice to him and that thought hurt. He hadn't even realised how much he had started to like the blond wizard until his heart hurt with the thought that the older man would dismiss him now that he couldn't even keep the pretty dragon safe.

Tears steadily dripped down, splashing on his trousers, and his shoulders shook; his chest hurting with the force he was exerting to keep his sobbing to a minimum. He shouldn't cry; he wasn't a baby anymore, but it really hurt to see his dragon laying in pieces in front of him.

A warm, familiar hand settled down on his shoulder, but he roughly shook his mum's hand off and shuffled closer to the jagged pieces; his hands trembled as he tried to put the Romanian Longhorn together again. He managed to stick two parts together, ignoring how his mother fussed at him, before they fell apart too and he slumped forwards, his vision blurry with the tears that just kept pouring out.

"Ginny, I was thinking we could – what on earth happened here?"

Albus' head shot up when his ears caught his dad's voice and he swallowed, another fresh bout of tears squeezing out, as he locked gazes with wide, astonished, green eyes.

"I-it b-broke, daddy," Albus cried; his face uncomfortably heated as his hands covered the two tiny gemstones. "T-the dr-dragon Un-un-uncle D-D-Draco gave m-me bro-broke."

Dad furrowed his eyebrows and sank down on the floor next to him, looking at the pieces perplexed. "I thought you had put the statue in your closet?" He shook his head and slipped his wand out of his pocket. "Doesn't matter; let's see if I can repair it, okay?"

"You knew he had that thing in his closet, Harry?" Mum asked shrilly; her own cheeks cherry red. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"What does it matter, Ginny?" Dad asked irritated as he gathered all the parts together, gently coaxing Albus to give up the two gemstones. The boy did so very reluctantly. "Draco gave it to him as a gift; no harm done."

"No harm done?" Mum repeated, spluttering in outrage. "Who knows what kind of spell he put on that statue?! He could have seriously hurt our - "

Dad whipped his head around and fixed her with a glare, snapping, "Will you please stop that? For Merlin's sake, Ginny, it's just a statue! A freaking statue his mother gave to him when he was a child! Why would he put a curse on that? What could he possibly win by cursing Albus?" Not awaiting mum's reply, he turned back to the collection of jagged stone and muttered, "Reparo!"

"Why are you asking me that? He's a damn Slytherin – they can never be trusted!" Mum ranted and took a step forwards. "And why are you trying to repair that? Just throw it in the bin! Albus, come here so that I can heal those cuts on your hands; you should know better than to pick up sharp things!"

Dad uttered a loud noise of frustration when another two consecutive 'Reparo' spells did absolutely nothing. "I don't seem able to repair it, but let's go to Draco. Chances are he'll know a way to fix your dragon," he reassured his son and gathered all the pieces in a small, red bag. After tucking that bag away in his pocket, he clucked his tongue and tapped his wand on Albus' hands, healing the small, stinging cuts. He nodded satisfied when the angry red lines disappeared, smooth skin left in its wake. "There, that's better. Come on now, Draco should be home by now." He rose up and Albus followed on trembling legs; a tiny sliver of hope worming its way in his chest.

Maybe Uncle Draco would be able to fix the dragon and wouldn't be too mad at him for not taking care of it enough to prevent it from breaking.

"Where are you going?" Mum questioned, ire clearly audible in her voice as she followed them downstairs.

"To Draco so that he can fix Albus' dragon," Dad answered curtly and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder.

"Our house isn't connected to his manor," Mum snipped and crossed her arms; her brown eyes alight with anger.

"That's why Albus and I are going through my office," Dad retorted and pulled Albus into the fireplace. "You know which way we're going, right?"

Albus nodded silently; his body still wracked with tremors as he tried to calm himself down. His dragon would be fixed; Uncle Draco would be able to fix it and he would apologise to the man for letting it break.

"What do you mean, Albus knows which way you're going?" Mum asked shrilly and hastily crossed the room. "Harry, answer m-"

"Red Claw's office!" Dad called out and instantly Albus' vision was filled with nothing but green light as he clung to his dad's trousers.

The narrow fireplace in dad's office had barely spat them out before dad turned around and threw a new pinch of Floo powder in the fire, pulling Albus back into the fire, stating, "Malfoy Manor!"

Uncle Draco appeared in the doorway of the foyer when the marble fireplace spat them out. He was still wearing a crisp, white shirt and black trousers, but his robes were absent – unlike dad, who was still wearing them.

"What happened?" Uncle Draco asked, sounding alarmed and strode inside. Grey eyes slid from his Auror partner to Albus, who didn't dare meet his gaze and instead stared shamefully down at the floor. The tiles were so clean the boy swore he could see his own reflection in them.

"The dragon statue broke, but I can't repair it," Dad explained and retrieved the bag, holding it up in front of him. "I assume that there's a specific spell needed that only a Malfoy would know?" He raised an eyebrow. "Can you fix it?"

Uncle Draco visibly relaxed and then groaned, rubbing his cheek briefly. "Merlin, I thought that with the way you entered, something had happened," he scolded and took the bag. He opened it and peered inside, nodding. "Yes, don't worry. I can fix it; mother tended to put protection charms on objects she thought were valuable or interesting for enemies. If the enemies broke such an object, they couldn't repair it in order to use it again." He paused and added dryly, "I also think she used this as a way to make certain I wouldn't be able to secretly repair something I had broken on accident."

"Did you often accidentally break something then?" Dad asked and cocked his head; a faint trace of amusement laced through his voice.

The blond man sniffed and turned around. "I'll call a house elf to get you two some tea while I repair the statue. Follow me."

"That's his way of admitting that he did break things," Dad whispered conspiringly in Albus' ear and winked. "He likes to keep up the illusion of being the perfect person, but sometimes he slips up."

The young boy smiled weakly, but couldn't muster up any real amusement as worry still coursed through his body. Pretty soon Uncle Draco would want to know how he had managed to get the dragon in that state even though it hadn't been a week yet and Albus was afraid to answer him. He didn't want to see Uncle Draco angry or even worse, disappointed in him.

A tray with three steaming cups of tea and a plate of chocolate covered biscuits was already waiting on the square, glass, bottle green table when they entered the cosy living room. The curtains were half drawn already and the living room looked out on a part of the garden, which was mostly filled with flowers and currently had three doves picking the ground, searching for food.

Uncle Draco sat down on a dark blue armchair and pushed the tray more towards the middle of the table to clear space. The stone shards clattered down on the table when he upended it and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"You gathered all the pieces?" he asked and slipped his wand out of his pocket.

Albus was pulled down by his dad on the couch right across from the blond man and was handed a biscuit.

"Yes, I got them all," Dad replied and took a careful sip of his tea. "This is good tea," he remarked surprised.

The blond wizard snorted, but didn't look up from the broken statue parts. "Of course it is. Bad quality is banned from this manor," he sniffed and then glanced up at Albus, who was staring morosely at his biscuit. "What happened to the statue?" His tone was blank, not giving anything away what he really thought about having to repair the statue after gifting it not even a week ago.

Albus bowed his head and bit harshly on his lip as he tried to ignore the burning threat of tears building up in his eyes. He really, really didn't want to tell what had happened. He didn't want to …

Startled he looked at his hand and grimaced; his biscuit was crumbled between his fingers and the chocolate bits melted on his skin, making it sticky.

"Come here," Dad murmured and cleaned his hand with a damp cloth. Green eyes studied him solemnly. "Albus, what's wrong?"

Albus shook his head, refusing to look up at either one of the adults. His face felt uncomfortable hot and he just wanted to curl up and disappear.

"I'm not angry, Albus," Uncle Draco murmured when it became clear that the young boy wouldn't utter a single word. "I'm just curious, because I know you would take good care of it. But accidents happen." He was waving his wand above the shards; a concentrated frown etched onto his forehead as he murmured something underneath his breath.

"Albus," Dad mumbled and a large, warm hand descended on his head, caressing his hair. "You can tell us. We're not going to be mad." He was pulled closer to his dad, pressed against his side as dad's arm came around his shoulders. "Did – did mum take the statue?"

"She – she's m-mad that U-uncle Draco g-gave me t-the dr-dragon," Albus stuttered and tears rolled down his cheeks. The words poured out of his mouth suddenly, even though he wanted to keep silent about it. "Mu-mum took i-it fro-from the shelf, and, and said she w-was go-going to t-t-throw it away. I – I di-didn't want that, tri-tried to st-stop her and – and then the drag-dragon fell on the fl-floor."

"Damn it, Ginny," Dad sighed and he rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"What did she think I had done to the statue? Cursed it?" Uncle Draco asked idly; his gaze was trained on the jagged pieces. They were slowly floating around each other, creating a lazy whirlwind.

"Yes, she thought you had put a spell on it," Dad muttered and grimaced.

Uncle Draco's head flew up and he stared speechlessly at the dark haired man; his hand hovering above the broken statue parts.

"I already told her how ridiculous that was," Dad murmured and rolled his shoulders; throwing the blond an apologetic look.

"I didn't mean fo-for the dragon to fall," Albus sniffled and rubbed his eyes. Embarrassment flowed through him as he realised that he was crying like a baby. He was almost eight years old! Big boys like him shouldn't cry about something like a broken statue!

"I know you didn't, Albus," Uncle Draco spoke soothingly and his gaze – which had cooled after the mention of mum thinking he had cursed the dragon – softened when his eyes landed on the small boy. "Don't worry about it. It's your mother who should - "

"Draco!" Dad interrupted him sharply and Albus looked up just in time to catch the odd look being shared between the two men and he furrowed his eyebrows.

What did that look mean?

A blond eyebrow rose up. "Don't tell me you agree with what she did and said?" His voice had noticeably cooled down and one of the shards of the statue bumped against his hand.

"No, I don't," Dad bit out and he looked and felt tense. "That doesn't give you the right to do the same thing as her."

Uncle Draco snorted harshly and he shook his head; the corners of his mouth quirked in a strange, stilted smile. "Oh, don't worry, Harry. She and I are in two very different leagues, as you should know all too well."

Dad's face tightened and he cast a quick glance at Albus, who stared back at him bemused. What were they talking about? What were those two leagues? Was Uncle Draco talking about Quidditch leagues? Were there even different Quidditch leagues? He was becoming more and more bewildered with every second that passed and he didn't like that feeling at all. He knew he was missing something – something very obvious – but he couldn't place his finger on what it was exactly that he was missing.

All he knew was that it had something to do with his dad and his uncle.

"Mimmy!"

Albus jumped when a brown eyed house elf suddenly popped up next to him. Instead of addressing Uncle Draco, though, she looked expectantly at dad and it took the boy a few seconds before realisation struck him that his dad had called for the house elf and not his uncle.

"Can you make that special chocolate dessert for my son?" Dad requested and smiled faintly as he nodded at Albus. "He wants to try it out."

Mimmy chanced a look at Uncle Draco and when he nodded his consent, she nodded; her big ears flapping back and forth with the action. She turned to Albus, bowed and held out her small hand.

"Mimmy is takings little master to kitchen!" she declared and gave him an encouraging nod when he looked back at her uncertainly.

"Go on, Albus," Dad smiled and patted his back. "Mimmy makes amazing chocolate desserts. I promise you won't regret it."

"But my statue …" Albus' weak protest died out as he stared longingly at the half rebuilt statue in front of him.

"It's almost done, Albus. The next part is a bit tricky, though, so it's best if you go with Mimmy," Uncle Draco explained; his attention back to the floating pieces.

"Okay," Albus mumbled reluctantly and accepted Mimmy's hand.

He felt a soft tug behind his bellybutton and when he opened his eyes next, he found himself seated at a round, old wooden table with a cup of warm chocolate milk already waiting in front of him.

"Little master is sittings here," Mimmy told him solemnly as she started to bustle around the kitchen. Two other house elves instantly started helping her. "Mimmy wills be makings dessert for little master."

Albus really wanted to know what dad and his uncle were talking about now – because that they were talking about something was obvious due to the fact that dad had suddenly sent him away with a house elf, all just to eat dessert. Dad never let him eat dessert before dinner.

So what had been so important that Albus had to be sent away? Was it about mum? About the statue or maybe about their work?

The one time Albus actually tried to sneak out of the kitchen, he found himself being guided back to the table with a new cup of warm chocolate milk pressed into his hands. The meaningful and reproachful look the house elf gave him was enough to discourage him of any further attempts to sneak out and eavesdrop on the conversation between his dad and his uncle.

He resigned himself to staying in the kitchen until either his dad or his uncle came to retrieve him.

He was just scraping the last bit of the chocolate cake – or was it more chocolate mousse? He had a hard time deciding which texture it resembled; all he knew was that it was very tasty – out of his bowl when the door to the kitchen swung open and dad appeared in the doorway.

He looked far more relaxed than when Albus had gone to the kitchen and the boy relaxed in return. The conversation with Uncle Draco couldn't have been that bad then, if dad could smile.

"Did you like the dessert?" Dad asked, grinning.

Albus nodded vigorously and was almost sad to see the empty bowl disappear into the sink instead of being refilled with the delicious dessert.

"That's good to hear. Draco finished fixing your statue, so we can go home as well," Dad informed him and beckoned to follow him.

Slight trepidation filled the young boy at the thought of returning home and confronting his mum – she really wouldn't be happy now – but he dutifully followed his dad back to the cosy living room where the blond wizard was just placing the dragon on the table.

Albus' mouth fell open at the sight of it; if he didn't know better, he would think that the dragon had never suffered a fall! Not a crack was left behind; the dragon was once again proudly glaring anyone down who dared to stare at him.

"Here you go, Albus. I added some extra layers of protection around him," Uncle Draco murmured and took the statue off the table again, offering it to the young boy.

Incredibly happy at the sight of his beautiful statue whole again, Albus eagerly reached out to accept the dragon; holding it reverently against his chest. The sharp horns pricked his collarbone, but he felt too giddy to be bothered by them.

"Thank you so much, Un - " Albus cut himself off as he was instantly reminded of his mum forbidding him from calling the blond 'uncle'. He worried his lip between his teeth and glanced back at his dad uncertainly.

"Albus?" Dad frowned, staring bemused at him.

"Can I still call him 'uncle'?" Albus asked apprehensively.

The frown on dad's face grew deeper. "Of course you can. Why wouldn't you?" he questioned bewildered.

"Mum said I shouldn't call him 'uncle'," Albus admitted softly; his thumb stroking anxiously over the dragon's belly.

A heavy sigh left dad's mouth and he rubbed both hands over his face. "Don't worry about her, okay, Albus? If you want to call Draco 'uncle', you can call him that," he reassured the young boy. "Now what do you say to Draco for repairing your dragon?"

"Thank you, Uncle Draco," Albus repeated, a tad shyly and quickly looked down at the dragon; a blush colouring his cheeks rose.

A cool hand tousled his hair briefly. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you again soon, all right?"

Albus nodded, his smile growing brighter, and walked back to his dad as careful as he could to avoid dropping the statue again.

"And Harry, don't forget to think about it," Uncle Draco said cryptically and looked blankly at dad; his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest.

"I won't, trust me," Dad muttered darkly and inclined his head.

Albus waved at the blond in goodbye before dad took him back to the foyer, so that they could Floo back to his office.

When they were spit out in front of the desks dad squeezed his shoulder firmly. "Don't worry about mum, okay?" he said softly and his green eyes softened. "I'll talk to her about the statue."

The dark haired boy nodded silently; his arms were wrapped protectively around his dragon as he was steered back to the fireplace.

As the green flames swallowed up both him and dad, the boy wondered with a cramping stomach how angry mum was now.

For the first time in his life he was not looking forward to seeing his mum again.

AN2: So what do you think of it? Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me!

Next time: Albus doesn't look forward to his mother's reaction. A letter might bring some good news, though.

See you all in the next chapter!

Cuddles

Melissa
- 6
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- 8
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Self-fulfilling Prophecy