Dearest Readers,
hopefully Wattpad has been able to fix whatever was wrong and my story isn't going to vanish yet again...
So enjoy the next chapter and let me know what you think.
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Harry was sitting in his kitchen staring into his tea. He was still not sure about that night with Ginny. He wasn't complaining, but she had been different. She had been... He didn't even have words for it. He had felt like never before when they had made love. This time it had been so much more intense. It had him incapable of thinking of anything but her. She had been doing nothing new. Well, maybe except for... He blushed. It had been truly mind blowing. He hadn't even known that she knew how to...
His head dropped onto the table top. He would need to marry her and soon. Whatever had happened to her, he was now even less willing to have any other guy so much as look at her let alone get the idea he might have a chance to steal her away from him. Which led him swiftly to Blaise Zabini. Why had this bastard suddenly developed this insatiable insanity that made him go for Ginny?
"Master?"
He looked up. Kreacher was holding the paper.
"What?" he saw the newspaper and was about to grab it when he saw the expression on the face of his house elf. His forehead creased. "What is it, Kreacher?"
"Master will not like what paper says."
Harry sighed. That wouldn't be the first time and he had no illusions of it not going to happen in the future.
"That's okay."
The Daily Prophet changed hands and when it was unfolded the photo of a stern looking Draco Malfoy greeted him. Though that wasn't what got him after a moment. It was the realisation that the husband of his best friend was showing the insides of his lower arms. Why would he do that? He read the caption.
Draco Malfoy, son of infamous Death Eater Lucius Malfoy
That was rather tame. Harry had expected something a lot worse. He scanned the page. There was no article going with this picture. Weird. Why would his ex-nemesis allow somebody to take his photograph and in this rather peculiar pose? He would have expected the unfortunate wizard or witch needing medical attention after their encounter with the Malfoy heir.
Shaking his head he lay the paper on the table, stretched his hand for his tea cup and raised it to have a sip. It slipped from his grasp a moment later.
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"Arthur! ARTHUR! Have you seen this?"
Mrs. Weasley was still in her dressing gown as she came rushing into the kitchen holding the newspaper in her fist.
"What have they been printing this time? I would have thought after the stir that Rita Skeeter business caused they would be a bit more careful."
"It's not something they've written." she held the Daily Prophet's front page up for him to see.
"I don't see..." he started before his eyes went wide, "OH!"
"Yes! How did they get that picture? The boy would never allow them to photograph him."
She was about to go into fully blown rant mode when the look on the face of her husband made her stop before she could even get started.
"What? What is it, Arthur?"
He took the paper and turned it around for her to look at.
"What's wrong with this picture?" he asked in a eerily quiet voice.
"What do you mean?"
"Look at him."
She did. His face was as pale as ever. His clothing was all black and created a strange contrast to his light colours. His arms seemed to glow... She gasped and took the Prophet form her husband.
"How can that be?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I have no idea, Molly, I have no idea."
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The Auror Office was buzzing, in a rather strange and unusual way. Henri Shaw saw the puzzled and sometimes even concerned looks as he passed by the long table in the inner most part of their department. What was going on here?
As he arrived in his office one of the filling clerks was just placing a newspaper on his desk. She turned and realised that he stood in the door. With a deep blush and a mumbled something that might have been an apology and squeezed past him seemingly eager to escape his vicinity.
'That was Dawlish's daughter, wasn't it?' he wondered.
Reaching for the deposited item he could hear the buzz behind him intensify. His senses went on to high alert. His department being seemingly in uproar couldn't mean anything... This was the moment he saw what he instantly recognised as the reason for what was going on around him, the Malfoy boy on the front page of the Prophet. That couldn't mean anything good. He read the caption and frowned. Everybody and his dog knew that Lucius' son was... Staring at the photograph for the best part of a minute he tried to comprehend what he actually saw. It was right in front of him, but still.
He didn't bother to even stick his head out off the office while yelling, "MULLIGAN!"
James Mulligan arrived a heartbeat later. One look at him told his boss all he needed to know. His second in command had seen it as well then.
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There was a strangely agitated atmosphere in the Great Hall. Students of the sixth and seventh year were whispering and pointing at the papers that had been delivered with the mail a short while ago.
Ginny glanced at the High Table and found Professor McGonagall frowning at her Daily Prophet. Professor Sprout had a confused look on her face. Slughorn looked as if he just swallowed a potion gone wrong and even Hagrid seemed pre-occupied.
"Lissy, pass me the Prophet, will you."
Her house mate pushed the paper over the table and to Ginny's utter surprise she was greeted with Draco's face on the front page. She chanced a glance at the Slytherin table and for some strange reason the students at the other side of the hall were rather quiet. They didn't put there heads together or even talked in animated fashion with each other. Weird!
He wasn't too bad looking she thought, but a moment later she could have slapped herself because without fail whenever Draco came up she was reminded of his best mate, Blaise, straight away and the last thing she wanted to be reminded of right now was the dark skinned menace that featured all too often in her dreams, let her lose track of time while thinking of him instead of trying to study and was all too present in her thoughts in general.
She frowned. That stolen night with Harry popped into her mind. It had been different. Though at first she couldn't have said why, it was only when she had enjoyed his caresses with closed eyes that she had realised his fingers weren't quite as nimble at their work as Blaise' had. Her senses had been betraying her heart in as much as she had for just a split second been imagining it to be the dark skinned bringer of doom running his fingertips over her hip.
Dropping her head into her hands she groaned. She needed to do something about this Merlin forsaken wizard who had stolen her peace of mind and made her remember things she shouldn't have done in the first place. But she didn't want to see him ever again, not in this lifetime or the next. If she did, she knew she wouldn't be able to trust herself not to...
"Have you seen this, Ginny?"
It was Dennis Creevy, Colin's younger brother, nudging her. She looked up. He was referring to the newspaper. She took a deep breath and pushed the memories of passion filled moments aside.
"Yes, Dennis, I've seen it, but I don't know what the fuss is all about."
He rolled his eyes at her, grabbed the nearest Prophet form a protesting third year and placed it right in front of her, covering and nearly overturning her muesli bowl and toast in the process.
"Have you looked at it? I mean really looked at it?" he insisted.
She sighed. Looking at the face of her friend's husband wasn't anything she hadn't done in the past. He looked just as always.
Turning to Dennis she finally asked, "What exactly am I supposed to see? I mean, I've seen him lots of times. We've been here at school together for seven years. There's nothing special..."
"Have you seen his arms? His skin?" the excited wizard demanded in a strange tone of voice.
"His skin? He's just as pale as he's always been. Merlin, Dennis! I'm engaged. I don't go round marvelling at other guys skin."
'No, you're not marvelling at another guy's skin. You're thinking about having it away with another guy and a Snake no less!'
Trying her best not to blush at her own thoughts she turned her attention back to the young wizard, "What's the big deal?" she started to be a bit annoyed at the persistent youngster, "I don't see..."
"No, you obviously don't!" he interrupted.
She glared at him.
"His skin! Look at it. It's all pale and smooth and..."
He could see on her face that she had finally caught on.
"How can that be? That's impossible!" she whispered.
"Don't know, but however he's done it I bet there'll be a lot of people really interested in finding out how he's managed it."
He was right of course. There were still some Death Eaters on the run. Not many and none of the high profile ones either, but still. If anybody who was still trying to hide the fact that their skin was bearing witness to their past saw this... She hastily got up and had nearly reached the big oak doors before Dennis realised she'd gone.
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Narcissa Malfoy had kissed James Mulligan goodbye this morning. It had been the first time she'd done it and it had put him in a very good mood. She could tell. It still felt a bit alien to her to behave like... she wasn't sure, but it reminded her of the time she was sixteen and had spend the summer with him while telling her parents she needed to stay at school over the holidays, to study. He had been already of age and so they had been spending nearly two months in a small, well hidden away little cottage in the sticks. They had passed the days with long walks and even longer discussions. She would kiss him, touch him, make sure he knew she loved him, but for some strange reason he never tried to touch her the way she hoped he would. His kissed were sweet and, for the lack of a better word, tame. She knew how he felt about her, though something held him back.
What would have happened, if he had given in to temptation? When they were back at Hogwarts and the strangely changed Lucius cornered her for the first time in a corridor she was glad nothing had happened. At least that way he could have fed her Veritaserum and she wouldn't have been telling him what he really wanted to hear, her providing him with an excuse to take revenge on a perceived but also very real rival.
As it was a nice day Narcissa decided to leave London and visit Paris for the day. She wanted to look for a dress for the Naming Ceremony of her first grandchild. The thought was still a bit disconcerting at times. She loved the fact of her son being a reformed man and having a lovely wife was all the better for him, but that they were going to be parents in a few weeks was... a bit soon.
A loud hoot caught her putting her heavy travelling coat on. The owl swooped in gracefully delivering the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. After having collected owl treats and the money it vanished again while Narcissa was looking at the last page of the paper. For some reason it had been folded front page in today. Not that it matter. Seemingly London Lighting had been able to sign Blaise Zabini on condition he was available for all the international games he would have to attend as a member of the England Quidditch team.
She liked Blaise. He was the only good influence Draco had while growing up. Though his behaviour at the wedding had been a bit... daring. If she was honest, she was rather surprised to find him making a pass at Harry Potter's finanée. Placing the newspaper on the mantelpiece she took the floo powder from its small ornate box and was gone a moment later.
Strolling along the wide boulevard was rather liberating. The sun was out, but it was still too early in the year as that she managed to create any real warmth. Narcissa glanced into the shop windows and enjoyed the different range of clothing being on display.
The creation in the window of a small shop she was about to pass made her stop and take a closer look. It was a nice dark blue colour and had been done with an unusual cut. It would be a nice contrast to gowns of all the other women present and as a Naming Ceremony was always a rather big occasion there would be quite a few other women present, magical and Muggle alike. Yes, she would get herself this wonderful dress.
She was about to move and go into the shop as two women were stopping next to her.
"Have you seen the Daily Prophet?"
Narcissa realised with surprise that the witches now standing not five feet away from her seemed to be English as well.
"You still read that rag? What a waste of time."
"You wouldn't say that, if you had seen it this morning."
"Why? What's so special about it?"
A sideways glance was risked by Lady Malfoy. The other women were now holding a newspaper between them.
"See that? That's the son of none other then Lucius."
"I can read you know."
"That boy should have never been admitted into the inner circle. Bellatrix had always high hopes for him, but I think she was blinded by him being her nephew."
There was something vaguely familiar about these two. Though what? Had she seen them possibly at the Manor?
"Nora, you're just jealous that your son wasn't deemed worthy to bear the..." her voice dropped to an inaudible whispering.
"No, I'm not! Jason might have been as good or probably better than the Malfoy's son, but at least now he doesn't have any problem moving in society whereas..."
"You don't get it, do you? Look at the photo! He's not going to have any problems in society any longer either now, is he?"
What were they talking about? Why would her son not be having any problems in society any longer? He was still a marked man. His skin had been mutilated in the worst way possible and nothing would ever change that.
"I wonder how he managed it? Duncan could finally take us back to Nottingham, if it weren't for the blasted..."
Narcissa had heard enough to make her want to find out what was going on. She quietly left her listening post and walked to the next shop. While stopping in front of its window she chanced a look at the two witches she had just left. The taller one she definitely knew, it was Nellie Oaks. A rather ambitious woman that would have liked nothing better than having her son Jason being honoured with the Dark Mark. Duncan Oaks had been a petty criminal before he had joined the ranks of Voldemort. Though he only ever had made it as a Snatcher until he managed to capture the twins of a high ranking Ministry official. After that he had excelled in his cruelty and non-thinking brutality. He had been granted the Dark Mark and had been promoted to lead one of the kidnapping and killing squads.
She shuddered.
The other two witches had walked in the opposite direction and were out off earshot. What had been in that paper? How easy was it to get hold of a Daily Prophet in Paris? She frown. Who got she have forgotten? There was one waiting for her at home. Home. It was James' home really, but... She didn't have time for this right now! Without further ado the blue dress she had admired was purchased and then she simply apparated back to the flat.
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Draco was slowly waking up. He had been sleeping with his witch in front of him, feeling her warming the skin of his bare chest. She had been trying not to move too much as not to disturb his sleep, but he wouldn't have complained even if she had woken him a dozen times. He knew that it wasn't that easy for her to find a comfortable position these days. Though it wouldn't be long and then she would be able to sleep in any position she chose to sleep in.
His gaze fell on the cot standing on her side of the bed. He had thought it was a bit soon to put it there, but Hermione had been adamant. In less than six weeks he would be a father. There would be a little human being he was then responsible for. The next generation in the line of the Malfoy family was waiting to be born.
He sighed and inhaled the sweet scent of his wife. He was about to nod of when his brain reminded him that the following day would be Wednesday. Which meant he would have the pleasure of another instalment of the torture called Birth Preparation Course. He knew he was going to have a fight about him attending with his wife later, but there was no way he'd go through that again. Last week had been bad enough. He wasn't enough of a masochist to hunger for a repeat performance.
"Draco?" a sleepy voice intruder his thoughts.
"It's okay, Lea, go back to sleep. I was just thinking about us being a family soon."
He heard Hermione sigh happily. Then she chuckled.
"What?" he asked into her hair.
"You're going to be daddy Draco."
He grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."