With you in my Arms

75. You're quite a looker

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The next three days passed without any new and horrible discoveries. It was only on the following Friday that Dawlish came back from France. He went straight to his boss, who in turn called for an immediate meeting with the Minister himself.

Shaklebolt instructed his secretary to not interrupt his meeting. Under no circumstances except maybe for the building being on fire or being taken over by Death Eaters.

Dawlish sat in the chair to the left of his fellow Order member. Henri Shaw sat to the right and was now passing the Firewhiskey to his colleague. The head of the British wizarding world was already sipping the amber liquid.

"Okay, what have you found out, John? Who was the maniac?"

There was a short pause.

"It took me quite a bit of digging, I finally found his trance in the south of France, in the Languedoc. Seemingly he was born in March of 1972. His mother was a Muggle, but his father is another matter entirely. For some strange reason there didn't seem to be anybody that could tell me anything about him. I didn't get any kind of description, let alone a name. Somehow this Muggle woman became pregnant and nobody was asking any questions as to how or by whom."

The three men looked at each other. This didn't bode well.

"After asking virtually every single inhabitant of Murasson, the village he was born in, I decided to try the surrounding villages and hamlets. I got lucky in a place called Nages about six miles south. There I met a Muggle woman who originated from Murasson, but had left it about eight months before our dead killer was born."

There was some kind of suggestiveness hanging in the air. They all felt it.

"She told me that in June and July of 1971 there was a stranger in their village, a young man with white-blond hair, pale skin and light eyes."

"Lucius was in France at that time? How could that be? He was only about... " Kingsley added up the numbers in his mind, "sixteen. Seventeen at best."

"Yes, he was and he was very friendly with the daughter of the local baker. She couldn't tell me why he had come to the village. It sounded like he had been sent away for some reason. She also told me that she remembers the rumours about the stranger and the local lass. Seemingly they were very friendly to each other and they were not shy to show it openly... She had to nurse a friend for the next year and only returned home the following autumn. It shocked her a bit to see the baby boy in the arms of the baker's girl, though she wasn't really surprised. What did surprise her though was the fact that nobody questioned the fact that she was a single mother in a very..." he tried to find the right words, "Seemingly they are rather strict around there when it comes to unmarried mothers, something to do with some Muggle religion,"he shrugged, "but there were never any questions about that little boy. Never. Whenever she tried to asked about it or where his father had vanished to the people froze and spoke suddenly of other things. It was weird. She didn't stay and left again a months later."

"When did James have her over for the summer?" Shaklebolt suddenly asked.

"Summer of '71." came the slow reply from Henry Shaw.

"She would have never dared do that, if Lucius was around."

"No, she wouldn't."

Glances were exchanged again. This whole thing had reached proportion nobody would have dared to contemplate. The utter monster going by the name of Lucius Malfoy had fathered a child at the age of sixteen and had then made all and everybody forget him. Now, all these years later, he had gone back in order to curse his first born son, to use him as a killer without the poor guy suspecting a thing.

"Are there any children? Does the assassin have any?"

It was a simple question which implication as far reaching as the whole scenario presenting itself to them.

"No. He had always been a strange kind of guy. Everybody spoke very warmly of him, in a way that made it clear everybody was frightened somehow. Maybe they didn't even know why."

"So, Draco is still the only heir to the name and fortune of the Malfoys?"

"Yes." there was a slight hesitation in Dawlish' answer, "If that evil bastard hasn't tried to spread it around any further, Draco is the only son left."

There was a long silent pause as the three men were lost in their own thoughts. How could one man be this evil? With what they knew now he even surpassed Voldemort in some respect.

"This doesn't leave this room. Officially we never find out who our killer was, at least not past some vague assumptions." the Minister said with a stern tone in his voice. "I don't want anymore hopefuls and copycats appearing."

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Draco stood in the shower and enjoyed the warm water running over his body. They had been invited for tea to the Grangers. It seemed strangely normal in comparison to the recent events. Leaning his head against the tiles he was letting his mind wonder back to the hospital. Hermione had been not just unhappy having to go to Azkaban with their newborn in order to secure him his inheritance, she had been seriously concerned.

The wizard prison wasn't a place for a grown-up wanting to spend any time at, if he or she didn't have to. How much more terrifying must it be for a baby? Though, maybe the fact that he would be only a baby might help him not to feel the horror of the place just as much. Then again...

He sighed. Then he frowned. His lovely witch had never, not for a moment, refused to go. She might be terrified, but she wouldn't let that evil bastard going for his parent let intimidate her. Images of another time rose in his mind, a time when she had been subjected to pain beyond anything most people could imaging let alone had to endure. She had been screaming, writhing and suffering at the hands of his aunt, but she hadn't begged for mercy. She had endured it. Probably in the knowledge that Potter and Weasley were working on a plan to get them all out.

He lifted his face into the jets of water. Merlin knew why he had been blessed with this incredible girl.

"Draco?" her voice sounded from the door.

"In here."

He turned the water off and was about to fish for his towel as her head appeared around the shower curtain. Observing him for a moment a wide grin appeared on her face. He looked down at himself. Was he still covered in soap or why was she grin... Her lips met his derailing his thoughts.

"Do you know that you're quite a looker?" she whispered against his mouth.

He smirked.

"You're not bad yourself." he pecked her cheek, "But if you want to go to your parents this afternoon I would suggest you let me get ready, before I remember just how wonderful you're and do something..." he let his hands trail over her back south.

She laughed, "No time." and shuffled away from him.

Draco watched her move as he had done a million times, but now she was moving differently. He knew that it was because she was... how many weeks were it now? He tried to calculate it in his mind. She was supposed to give birth in mid-march. That meant she was about thirty weeks pregnant, or somewhere there about. He knew he could just ask her. She would know to the day, but he didn't want to do it. He wanted to be able to remember all these things himself. At least next time he would be a bit less frazzled. He grinned to himself as he slowly dried his body with a large, fluffy towel. If the mark on his back was showing the future then there would be at least two more kids waiting for them to have them. He was looking forward to it.