Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

This Body is My Prison	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 25140 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Part VIII: Family

As Davin approached eight months of age, he had added a few new syllables to his vocabulary. This included, “Da,” to indicate Draco, “Ma,” for his mother, and “Tata,” which was his current name for every single type of human, animal, or insect that he saw.

They had begun to take short walks outside at Draco's insistence, claiming that the exercise would do them both some good. Draco always went with them, and as they walked, they would point out things to the little boy.

“Davin, what's that?” Cassie asked as she pointed to a squirrel darting up an old oak tree.

“Tata!” he proclaimed.

“Davin, what's that?” Draco asked, and pointed to a hawk flying overhead.

“Tata!” he cried again.

“How about that, Davin? What's that?” Cassie asked, and pointed to a very large bee that was buzzing lazily around some of the trout lilies that circled the cottage.

“Tata!” he said, and squealed with delight when both adults began to laugh.

Intermingled with these tender moments as she watched her son grow up, Draco would gently remind Cassie at least every second day or so that Ron and Hermione were still asking for her. When he was not bringing her two best friends up, he was commenting on the fact that she still had not viewed the memories that Draco had left out for her so many months before.

“I know it's scary,” Draco said one night as they both sat before the warm fire, while outside a violent thunderstorm raged outside, “but you seem to be stuck between healing and wallowing over what happened to you. It's not a sin to take time to heal, but I do think seeing his death will help you to move past it.”

“I—I know,” she replied, and stared down at the mug in her hands, her tea having long gone cold, “I just...I don't want to see him again. I—he...he did things to me—and you—and...I don't know if I can face him.”

“You aren't alone,” Draco reminded her, “I can come into the memory with you.”

“You can't,” she said at once, “someone needs to be here to watch Davin—I couldn't bring him with me, I don't want him to ever see something like that. I won't do that.”

“Okay,” Draco replied at once, his voice steady and reassuring, “I'll watch him whenever you decide to view the memory. I know I'm repeating myself, but facing this, rather than hiding away from it...in the long run, it will help you, Cassie.”

“I don't doubt that,” she replied, “just...not yet.”

“All right, that's okay,” Draco said, though something in his tone told Cassie that it was very much not okay. “Now...your friends. Granger and Weasley have been uncharacteristically patient in all this, but I'm beginning to get the feeling that if they don't see you soon, they'll threaten to attempt to storm this safe house with the entirety of the Order of the Phoenix in tow. What would you like to do?”

“I don't really want to see them,” Cassie mumbled without looking up, “they're still my friends, I still love them, but...” her tone of voice trembled a little as she trailed off, and she took a small breath in an effort to calm down before she continued. “I—I feel like if I see them...what if they can't accept this new me? What if they can't accept Davin? What if they hate me for letting Voldemort do those...those things to me?”

A choking sob escaped her before she could stop it, and she brought her free hand to her mouth as a single tear dripped down her cheek. Like every other time where Cassie began to feel as though the world was caving in around her, in an instant, Draco was there.

Draco knelt in front of her, and wiped away her tears with a handkerchief. He then handed it to her, and she accepted it as she hiccoughed and trembled, struggling to get a handle on her surging emotions.

“I'm so t-tired of crying,” she mumbled as she dabbed at her eyes, and the dampened piece of fabric came back black as her eye-makeup began to run.

“Crying is not a weakness,” Draco said gently, a phrase she had heard from him at least half a dozen times lately. He shifted, and moved to sit next to her. Immediately she closed the distance between them, and Draco embraced her readily. She did not miss the soft, contented sigh that escaped his lips as he held her. “What happened to you was not your fault. It was something that was done to you. You did not ask for it. I do not believe for a second that they would blame your encounters with the Dark Lord on you. As for the other things...” Draco trailed off, but continued to hold her and rub her back as they sat there, and it was a long moment before he spoke again.

“I do not know them nearly as well as you do, but I cannot see them rejecting you or Davin. Regardless who his father—er—other father was,” Draco paused, as though uncertain which familial title to use, but pressed forward before she could react to his phrasing one way or the other. “He's still your son, and I am certain that that will be enough for them.”

“But what if it isn't?” Cassie asked desperately, “what if they take my son away from me? What if they bring him to the Ministry and—and—”

“Cassie,” Draco said as his hands moved to squeeze her shoulders, and his firm, almost commanding tone drew her full attention to him. “Take a deep breath, all right? You need to calm down. I know you're scared, but if you panic, it will be harder for you to think all this through rationally.”

Still shaking a little, Cassie nodded once and closed her hand in a tight fist around the handkerchief that she still held. She did as she was told and took a slow breath, but she still felt afraid and overwhelmed.

Draco shifted closer to her, close enough that the outside of their thighs brushed together, and she felt her heart jump into her throat. What was more surprising to her than anything else was how this close, almost intimate (albeit accidental) touch did not scare her—not how it once may have.

“What do Ron and Hermione know about...about me?” Cassie asked at last, and shifted to close the distance between them. Almost as though on instinct alone, Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close.

“Nothing, except for the fact that you're alive,” he replied, and Cassie did not miss the way his breath seemed to catch when she rested her head on his shoulder as she silently sought comfort from this closeness. “I phrased it as you're not the same person that you once were, and left it at that. I was waiting for you to tell me if and when you wanted your friends to know about your new identity.”

“That certainly is one way of putting it...” she mused, and heaved a sigh. “I know that I need to see them, and all these 'what if's are driving me mad. Just...what if they can't accept me...this...?”

“At least you'll know,” Draco replied gently, “then you can stop fretting over it. Your circle of friends does not begin and end with those two. You have other friends, and you don't have to be Harry Potter anymore if you don't want to. You could assume the identity of Cassie, and make new friends. You look different enough from the press photos of...well, you as the Dark Lord's consort that I doubt anyone would make the connection...”

“Somehow, that's not making me feel better,” she mumbled, and pressed her cheek harder against Draco's sharp shoulder. The blond's hand slid up her back and buried itself in her hair, and she let out a soft, contented sigh at the comforting touch.

“One thing at a time,” Draco said, “we'll introduce your friends to the new you—soon, but when you feel ready for it, all right?”

Cassie felt both cornered and reassured by his words. She trusted Draco's judgment; she knew that he would not force her to do something that she really did not feel ready to do, and she knew that he was right in that she needed to face her friends, and soon.

“All right,” she said at last, and Draco's look of concern shifted to an approving smile.

~*~

It was another fortnight before Cassie felt completely ready to face Ron and Hermione, and in that time her subconscious was plagued by nightmares that were quick to evolve into full-blown night terrors. It only took one experience of Cassie wandering into Draco's bedroom in a sleep-walking state, stopping at the end of his bed, and then proceed to scream bloody murder before he migrated once more to her bed, and held her as she slept.

As it had before, Draco's presence calmed her more effectively than any potion ever could. There was nothing sexual in the act, and this secondary fact helped Cassie to feel completely safe with another adult body in bed next to her. Draco was always careful to keep from crowding her those nights when she needed him nearby, and often it was only their hands that were intertwined. If this in any way bothered her companion, Draco never let on one way or the other.

When the day finally came that she was to see Ron and Hermione again, Cassie was a complete nervous wreck. Her hands shook, she changed her clothes five times—first in a wholly masculine outfit that concealed her new curves, then in something highly feminine. Her following three outfits were an even mix, and Draco finally stepped in when she broke down and began to cry. Without a word, he gathered her in his arms, and she clutched to him while she trembled and tried to get a handle on her emotions.

“I don't know if I can do this...” she mumbled weakly, and Draco's hold on her tightened slightly.

“You can, Cassie,” Draco said firmly, “you're selling yourself short, you're stronger than you know.”

“But—”

“—no,” Draco interrupted, his tone more firm than she had ever heard it. “You can do this, and you will. You're scared, I know, but you have no need to be. You'll get through this, and if Granger or Weasley try anything funny, we'll just have to hex them. I know this handy little one that turns its victim into a giant blueberry...”

“You do not, you liar,” she cut in with a giggle, “you're making it up.”

“Well, I may have had some help coming up with the idea, but I do need to test out this hex on someone...”

“I'm never telling Davin another muggle children's story with you in the room ever again,” she replied with a small laugh, and at last began to pull away from Draco, and he let got of her at once. “God, I must look so scary,” Cassie said, and turned to look in her vanity mirror, to find that indeed her eye-makeup was running, and she now closely resembled a raccoon.

“You look beautiful,” Draco said at once, “you always look beautiful.”

Cassie paused and turned back to him, but his expression did not change, and he looked wholly unashamed of his proclamation.

“Shut up,” she said with a smile and no real venom before she turned back to the mirror to fix her makeup.

As Cassie sat before the vanity, she could feel Draco's eyes on her, and it struck her as strange that his staring did not unnerve her—not like how Voldemort's used to. He stepped up to her and watched her apply the small amount of makeup by hand, and the corner of his mouth was twitching as though he was trying to keep from smiling.

“Is something funny?” she asked as she finished up and turned back to him. Chuckling, he shook his head once.

“Not funny, no, just...you. You were so distraught about the feminine parts of you when you first woke up, and now more and more you seem to be gravitating towards it,” Draco said simply, “it's not a bad thing—or a good thing, for that matter, it just sort of is. It's only surprising because you never struck me as all that effeminate in school.”

“I didn't exactly have the time explore that part of me, in any case,” she replied dryly, “what with battling basilisks and giant spiders, and being shunted into deadly tournaments, and being hunted down by a mad dark wizard...it doesn't leave a whole lot of space to explore your gender or sexuality very much.”

“This is true,” Draco replied with a small chuckle, “you better give Davin a feed soon, your friends should be here within the hour, and I don't imagine you'd want to breastfeed in front of them...”

“No, I don't fancy Ron gawking at my tits,” she replied, and Draco snorted in a most undignified matter as she stood up and moved over to the bassinet to wake her son from his nap.

Forty-five minutes later, Cassie was seated on the sofa, with Davin at her feet babbling happily, a red wooden block in one hand, and his dragon in the other while they waited for Ron and Hermione to arrive. Cassie was a tangle of nerves, and Draco did not seem to be faring much better as he sat there, twisting a handkerchief through his fingers while he stared intently at the empty fire grate.

“Is what I'm wearing okay?” she asked nervously in an effort to break the silence, “I mean...it's not too—too revealing or anything? Should I change?”

Draco looked her up and down critically, from the fitted but not overly tight black tank top she wore, the straps not the thin and flimsy kind her former husband would have made her wear, but about an inch thick, and did not make her feel overly exposed. With it she was wearing a pair of women's boot-cut jeans. Her hair had been styled by Draco, who seemed to have a knack for that sort of thing, and the short, curly locks appeared artfully tousled and windswept, much like it had the first time he'd styled it for her.

Without a word, her companion reached forward and adjusted the way the top sat on her ample chest, casually hiding the edge of her bra from view, and she felt herself flush as he did so.

“You look fine, Cassie,” he said gently, and moved his hand to cover hers. She immediately turned her hand over so that their palms touched, and she squeezed his larger hand tightly, a gesture he immediately returned.

At the same moment, the fireplace suddenly flared a familiar emerald green, and Davin squealed in delight at the sudden whirl of colour. He dropped his toys and lurched towards the light, but Cassie scooped him into her lap before he could get very far.

As the two people that had tumbled out of the fire grate righted themselves, Cassie's hold on her son tightened. His weight in her lap was anchoring, much like Draco's presence always was, and with both Davin and Draco so close, she began to feel as though she really could get through this.

Hermione and Ron looked both exactly the same, and very different all at once. Hermione's hair was much longer, more stylized that it used to be, and it was pulled back from her face in a long braid that trailed down to the small of her back. Her shoulders were hunched forward in a similar way to how she held herself while at school burdened with the weight of a dozen or so heavy books, but this was different—Cassie could also recognize it easily as a depression-induced form of body language, as though the weight of the world was too much for Hermione to sit up straight.

Ron, on the other hand, looked strong, and not like he'd been held captive for years—first at Azkaban, then later at the Malfoy Manor. His hair was long and fell in a wave to his shoulders, and there was a long thin scar that cut vertically across his left eye, and the iris was no longer blue, but seemed to be covered in some sort of thin white film. This seemed to be the only imperfection he bore—he was broad-shouldered, his robes hugged him snugly, and Cassie had to wonder just what he had been up to that would cause such a change in his physique.

The moment the pair had straightened themselves out and turned towards Draco and Cassie, she felt her stomach clench again, and she held her breath as she met their stares. Hermione looked positively horrified, while Ron looked confused.

“Er...hi, guys,” Cassie said at last, and Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears.

“Oh, Harry...” she said softly, “is that really you?”

“Er...it's—it's Cassie now,” she said awkwardly, and dropped her gaze to her son, who was staring at the pair with wide, curious eyes. “And...and this is D-Davin.”

“And he's You-Know-Who's kid?” Ron asked bluntly, his eyes wide, and Cassie winced.

“He's my son, Ron,” she cut in icily, and Ron took his turn to cringe at her tone, “I don't care who his father was, he's still my son.”

“I'm sorry, Harry, er—Cassie,” Ron said quickly, and raised his hands in surrender, “I just mean...how can you even look at him, after how he came to be here?”

“It was hard at first,” she admitted while the pair stepped forward uncertainly, and Draco motioned to the available armchairs, which they took quickly. “For a long time, I could only see Tom Riddle in his face—and it took me ages to name him, but now...all I see is Davin. My son.”

“He has your hair,” Hermione offered with a small smile, “all over the place, I mean. He's so cute, Ha—Cassie.”

“Thank you,” she replied while she smiled weakly.

“Da!” Davin babbled, and immediately Draco held out his arms for the tot, who squeaked with delight as Cassie passed him over. Draco bounced him in his lap, and Cassie turned uncertainly back to her friends. Without the child in the way, Ron's eyes immediately dropped to her chest, then flicked back to her face, but it was only a matter of seconds before his gaze fell again. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and crossed her arms, and Ron's ears went as red as his hair.

“What do you plan to do now, er, Cassie?” Hermione asked timidly, “I mean, about your...um, physique? Have you tried to break You-Know-Who's transfigurations?”

“Draco tried, back when we first got here, and—er, I have it on good authority that a lot of what he did is sort of sealed in my blood,” she said, thinking back to what Dumbledore has said in that vision, or halfway place, or whatever it had been. “A lot of it is pretty irreversible.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” Hermione said consolingly, and Cassie shook her head a little.

“Don't be sorry, Hermione,” she replied, “I've had five years to get used to this body, and in all honesty, it feels more comfortable than how I had been when I was just Harry.”

“Do you mean...are you saying that you're a Trans Woman?” Hermione asked, and Cassie shrugged.

“I have no idea, honestly,” she said simply, but the short answer, predictably, did not seem to be enough for her old friend, who seemed to be on the cusp of asking another question as Cassie quickly elaborated, “adding labels to all this...stuff...it makes it more confusing for me, not less. I'm just Cassie now, and I'm content to leave it at that. If I decide later on to go back to Harry, I can always try, but...that feels like going backward, not forward.”

“Even if it's an identity You-Know-Who gave you?” Ron asked curiously, this time, thankfully, he kept his eyes on her face. “I mean...you're really...erm...well...I just mean, You-Know-Who sort of made you what you are, how can you be so accepting of it?”

“Voldemort didn't make Cassie,” she replied patiently, “Voldemort made Cassiopeia. Draco helped me find that balance between who I was, what Voldemort made of me, and who I am now. I'm okay with it, really. I mean, in some ways, Voldemort also made Harry—me—who I was. He's always been this sort of shadow hanging over my life, but he's gone now, and I can finally just be me, whoever that happens to be.”

Hermione smiled at Cassie's explanation, but she wasn't entirely certain what Hermione was so pleased about. She returned the smile nonetheless, and ever so slowly, they relaxed into familiar, albeit somewhat awkward conversation.

The afternoon passed slowly, and Cassie gradually grew more comfortable in Ron and Hermione's presence. When Hermione nervously requested permission to hold Davin, Cassie allowed it readily, and passed her boy over.

“Oh, look at you!” Hermione cooed as she lifted up the eight-month-old, “you're so big! Are you a good boy for your mummy?” Davin giggled as Hermione bounced the boy on her knee, and Hermione's smile brightened even further. “I suppose I'm your Auntie Hermione, can you say Hermione?”

“Haaa!” said Davin.

“Her-my-oh-knee,” replied Hermione.

“Tata!” Davin answered, and patted Hermione's arm. She regarded Cassie and Draco oddly when both of them started to laugh.

“It's his word for pretty much anything that's not an inanimate object,” Cassie explained between giggles, “but usually he reserves it for animals and insects.”

“Ohh, Davin!” Hermione cooed at the little boy again, “I'm not an animal! I'm a people—er, person. Maybe you need to start small, like Grawp? Can you call me Hermy?”

Hermione went very pink when everyone snorted at that.

Despite Hermione's best efforts, Davin did not miraculously begin to speak full words for her, but managed to call her, “Hama,” which was, in Hermione's estimation at least, better than Tata.

“Oh, he's so cute,” Hermione said for what was likely the fifteenth time as she passed the little boy back to Cassie, “and he might grow out of his Tom Riddle looks, you know, or you could always do a Blood Adoption—”

“Blood Adoption?” Cassie interrupted, and cocked her head to the side, “what's that?”

“It's an old Pureblood practice,” Draco filled in as he eyed Hermione with vague surprise, as though he had not expected her to know about such a thing. “It's a potion that's strictly controlled by the Ministry, and it's usually reserved for children that were conceived under means of force—like Davin. It's to minimize the chances that the mother will reject her child in the event that she chooses to keep it. It erases the physical attributes of one of the parents, and replaces it with characteristics of someone else. In this case, you would choose someone to act as the father figure, and it would take away the physical similarities to the Dark Lord.”

Cassie's arms tensed around her son, and it was only when Davin let out a squeak of discomfort did she relax her hold on him, and looked down.

“I don't think I could ever do that,” she murmured softly as she reached out to touch her son's hair, and he grabbed hold of her fingers. “What sort of message is that sending to a child...to hide their parentage from the world like that? And if they find out later who their real parent was? I—no. No way. He'd never trust me again if I did that.”

“Cassie, no one is suggesting that you do that to Davin,” Draco said gently, and shifted closer to rest one of his hands over her fingers that were intertwined with her son's. “We're just...discussing it. Right, Granger?”

“R-right,” Hermione said quickly, her wide-eyed expression of alarm Cassie found a little unsettling, though she could not pinpoint why. “No one would force you to do anything like that. I just thought...it might be easier...”

“Easier for whom?” Cassie asked, her tone shifting from panicked to dangerously cold. “I can't hide his parentage from him, it wouldn't be fair. I had no idea I was a wizard until Hagrid told me—I knew nothing of my parents for a long time, except for snippets here and there from Remus and the others. I won't let Davin grow up with no clue who his father was. When he's ready, I'll tell him everything, but I refuse to do anything that would make him think that he should be ashamed of where he came from. He's my son, too. Not just Voldemort's. He'll grow up loved and cared for, anyone who would hold his parentage against him will get to taste the end of my wand.”

~*~

When Hermione and Ron left that evening, Cassie had no idea whether the visit had gone well or not.

One some levels, it seemed to have gone swimmingly—Hermione was completely besotted with Davin, Davin also managed to survive Ron holding him (for about three seconds before he panicked and passed him back to Cassie), but on others, she wasn't so sure.

It wasn't in words or even overt actions that caused her doubts to manifest, but in little moments when the conversation would peter off, and silence would fall between them. Ron seemed wholly unable of seeing Cassie as both Harry and Cassie, and seemed to see only a young woman who was a complete stranger to him. Hermione, to her credit, was trying, but she, too, seemed as though she had no idea how to act around her.

Cassie heaved a sigh, and stared out the window at the misty rain that dotted the window.

Her meditation lasted only a few minutes before she heard Draco shuffle back into the sitting room, and he moved to her side.

“Is he down?” she asked, and Draco smirked a little.

“For now,” he replied, “he'll be up soon enough.” Draco paused and wrapped an arm around Cassie's waist, and she willingly leant into the touch. “Maybe soon we'll see a true miracle, and he'll actually sleep through the night for once.”

“Hmm, wishful thinking,” she said, and Draco nodded his head.

“Indeed. He's got your energy level, that's for sure.”

“He must be mine, then,” Cassie replied, and Draco chuckled softly. He turned a little, and coaxed her to follow his movements. When she was facing him, Draco coiled his other arm around her, and linked his fingers together at the small of her back.

“You did well today,” he said, “even with Weasley forgetting what level your face is at...”

“Be fair, these things are a little distracting,” she teased as she framed her chest with her hands, and Draco chuckled. His arm jerked as though he wanted to touch her more intimately, but Cassie felt his hands tense at her back, and they did not move.

“I just mean, it could have gone a little better, but it also could have been much, much worse,” Draco said simply, and Cassie nodded as she shifted closer to Draco. The movement was so fluid and familiar that she hardly noticed that she was even doing it, and instead she simply relaxed into the comfort of his embrace.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “it definitely could have been worse.” Cassie wrapped her arms around Draco's middle in a mirrored embrace, and she pressed her cheek to his chest as she returned her gaze to the window. Draco rested his chin on the top of her head, and they stood like that for several long minutes, before she moved again to look up at her blond companion, her lips parted to speak, but her voice was chased away by the sudden realization of just how close Draco was to her.

She could feel his body heat—it enveloped every part of her, she could smell his cologne, and she could feel his breath tickle her cheek. None of these were new sensations with Draco—she'd come to find comfort in his close embraces instead of the fear such contact would have evoked even a handful of months before, but something was different this time. Cassie couldn't place what it was, exactly, but it was like someone had placed a pair of magnets in them, and she found her hands moving to his front, sliding up his chest to finally rest at the back of his neck. Her toes pushed her up so that she was almost—but not quite—at his level, and she found herself marvelling at just how soft Draco's lips looked in the dying light of the day.

And they indeed felt as soft as they had looked.

One of Cassie's hands moved to Draco's cheek as they kissed, and she felt as though she might weep—not out of fear or misery, but of joy. This was what a kiss was supposed to feel like—like she had been set on fire, like a dozen butterflies had been released in the pit of her stomach, like she wanted to sleep for a hundred years and jump for joy all at once.

“Cassie...” Draco whispered softly, mere moments before he pulled her in for another kiss, and she could feel his tears intermingle with hers as they drew the moment out.

When they at last parted, Cassie licked her lips, and already wanted to kiss him again. However, there was one thing she needed to do first, and Draco's closeness gave her the strength that she needed to vocalize it.

“Draco,” she murmured softly, and arched up to kiss him again, though it was far more chaste than she would have liked, “it's time, I think...I—I need to see your memories.”
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This Body is My Prison