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Wiltshire to Aberdeen

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Draco hummed as he filled his stomach with sweet milk. It was lunchtime and his husband had come bringing in his food and tea, but seeing his full breast pressed against a tight white blouse gave Draco all two reasons to ask for something else to drink that afternoon. He ground his growing erection on his lover’s plush ass, biting harshly on the side of his breast before taking the nipple back into his mouth.
“Draco, not too hard,” Ron whined shifting back and pulling his nipple from the blond’s mouth. Merely grunting, Draco smacked his ass looking up at him, lustful grey eyes turning cold.
“I can do whatever I want to you. You’re mine so if I want to suck you dry you’re going to let me,” he growled. His pink tongue licked a long stripe dragging across his sensitive nipple causing Ron to mewl. Gripping he teat, milk beaded on the bud as Draco’s hand squeezed the small mound, “Who do you belong to Ron?”
“You,” he whispered as Draco clamped down on his nipple again, pulling it into his mouth. Warm milk spurted onto his tongue as he bit down on the bud, again and again, causing Ron to let out more whines and try to pull away from him. When a hand went to rest in his hair and gripped it softly, Draco pulled off again glaring.
“Draco, please be gentle,” Ron begged, “I have to feed Scorpius later and I don’t wanna be too sore,” at the mention of their son Draco relented allowing Ron to get off his lap. He took note of how the chub on his stomach was fading fast and his hips while still wide seemed to narrow. The ginger reached down to grab his shirt for the floor, not that it would cover much considering Draco ripped it open causing all but two buttons to fly off.
“Uh uh, keep the shirt off,” Draco smirked as Ron pouted at him. If he couldn’t drink from his captive the least he could do was enjoy looking at his full breast. The two small mounds looked so pretty, accented by his now flattening belly.
“I’ll be going now,” Ron said inching towards the door. Draco frowned but quickly smiled as Ron gasped in pain and fell to the floor when the collar around his neck shocked him. With a trembling hand reaching for his neck, the man looked back at Draco, defeated.
“You know what I want to hear.”
“I love you Draco.”
Draco sighed the rest of his day was going to be a drag. Going through the motions, over and over again, he did the same monotonous shit every day. Read the newest reports on where Potter and the Order may be hiding, whether it was Iceland, or Egypt, or even Mexico. Attend a meeting with the other Death Eaters and pretend to care for a cause he was no longer invested in, then he’d finish his day seeing his two favourite people. Well, he would have if he hadn’t been asked to have dinner with his company that night.

After what was supposed to be their seventh year, Potter failed to take down Voldemort. Their great final battle ended in a draw as the Dark Lord still had one Horcrux left. He could still remember the look on Longbottom’s face when the sorting hat was ripped from his grip by a well-timed spell and the scream of terror from Ron when Nagini passed him to bite the mudblood instead. Though many managed to escape, there were heavy casualties on both sides but Voldemort controlled the Ministry, therefore, Potter and the rest had gone into hiding.

Lost in grief, Ron was left behind cradling the bleeding girl in his arms and had been unceremoniously dragged away from her before she had actually passed. It was only proper that a pureblood like him not be wasted, no matter how much of a blood traitor he was. And so he was given to the Malfoy’s, more specifically Draco, and through a few years of potion experiments they were able to craft an artificial womb making Ron the mother of the next generation of purebloods.
Draco sighed as he walked down the corridor, he could only hear the Goyle’s argue with each other for so long until he wanted to shut both of them up, permanently. Though he’d moved out of the main part of the manor and to one of the guest homes, he still had to deal with whatever riffraff wandered around bringing news or prisoners.
“You smell so good. I bet you’d like someone to take care of you hmm?” Draco paused, he knew that voice. Vandal, one of those werewolves that were always sniffing about. He was a brute, an idiot, and absolutely abhorrent but he followed orders and caught mudbloods in droves so he couldn’t complain.
Walking to bend, Draco flattened himself against the wall. Vandal never showed interest in anything that came through. Whereas the others would take their pick from prisoners he seemed immune to anyone who passed through the manor. And now Draco knew why.
Flat against the wall was Ron, his eyes shut tight as Vandal nosed his neck. Draco gritted his teeth as the disgusting being put his hand on Ron’s uncovered belly, stroking it softly.
“That husband of yours doesn’t treat you right, I can do so much more for you. Give you so many pups. You’d always be so full, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Too sharp nails carefully trailed down to Ron’s hips as Vandal licked his neck. Draco saw red as his captive was touched but continued to watch Ron’s reactions. The freckled man just stood there like he wasn’t already claimed. Like he didn’t have a child with someone else. Letting himself be touched.
“I’d get you out of here. You’d be free from this,” Vandal pulled on the collar allowing it to extend then snap back against Ron’s skin, “Don’t you want that? Freedom? Just come have my pups and I’ll let you be as free as you want.”
Ron’s eyes opened at that word and Draco wanted nothing more than to gouge them out. Blue eyes filled with such, such hope like there was ever a chance he’d be free. Vandal’s head moved down to Ron’s heavy chest, pressing a kiss on his plump breast, “Can I drink from you baby?” Draco decided that he’d never call Ron that again, it was soiled now, “You’re so full, not enough pups for all this milk. Not yet.” Draco continued to watch, his eyes glued to Ron.

The ginger shook his head and pushed the werewolf’s face away. The man laughed, a horrid barking cackle that sounded like all the worst parts of a hippogriff cry, “Oh come on, you’re practically bursting,” he said gently bringing a hand to cup a near leaking tit. Draco felt his cock twitch as a pink tongue flicked out, teasing the nipple with gentle prods.
Ron whined trying to wiggle away but he was essentially trapped between the stone wall and the hulking mass that was Vandal. Draco’s eyes followed as the lycan wrapped his lips around the nipple softly sucking it. Ron gasped and tried to push the werewolf off only for his hands to be caught, “Shhh it’s alright. You feel better now don’t you? I’m taking care of ye,” as he spoke milk dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. He drank again, wet suckles filling the hallway as he greedily gulped down mouthful after mouthful of rich milk. Happy hums came from Vandal as he wrapped his arms around Ron’s middle pressing his face to his chest as he switched to the other breast.

Draco was livid, absolutely enraged that his husband was being touched but at the same time bemused. He’d never seen Ron’s reddening face before as he was being suckled nor had he heard such audaciously loud noises from someone doing something so wrong.
The man stood up again and brought his milk stained lips to Ron’s planting a soft kiss on the ginger. A kiss that left Draco with darkness in his heart and malevolence in his veins.
Deciding he’d seen enough, Draco veered around the corner wand already out and aimed at the lycanthrope.
“Crucio,” he hissed in venomously glee as he watched Vandal pulsate on the ground, a howl ripped from his throat, “Never show your face on this part of the grounds again. And if I ever see you around what’s mine I will hex you to insanity. Now get out.”
Vandal ran out with his metaphorical tail between his legs as Draco turned on Ron. The man’s eyes were trained on the floor. His shoulders were hunched and face infuriatingly neutral. His tits leaked and wet his with expelled milk.
Draco licked his lips, resisting temptation and instead reached out grabbing a fistful of red hair. Yanking on it he pulled Ron’s head up bringing them eye to eye and causing him to cry out, “So you’re that much of a whore that you’d consider that animal? I saw the way you let him touch you, you slut,” Draco stalked down the hall dragging Ron by his hair. Ron’s legs awkwardly clambered up the stairs as the pair made their way to the master bedroom. Draco threw Ron to the floor with a forceful shove as he released his him.
“D-Draco it wasn’t like that he-“
“Did I say you could speak!” With that, the collar shocked the object of his anger, “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”
“Draco please.”
“I saw the way you looked at him, your eyes lit up when he mentioned filling your cunt with his seed. You want another child, right? Or should I assume you wanted freedom? Do you want to leave me that bad Ronnie? I mean, I already have an heir, maybe I should just throw you to the dogs. You can go have as many children as your womb desires while Scorpius can grow up without a mother.”
“No! I- I-”
“Not to mention the way you allowed him to drink from you. The same breast you use to feed our child you allow any man to satisfy himself with, you cow. You don’t deserve the child I blessed you with you insufferable skank.”
Tears ran down his face as Ron undid the belt on his trousers, “Please. I’m sorry Draco, please. Don’t take Scorpius away from me,” Draco almost allowed himself to smile. No matter how much Ron despised him, he loved their son. He remembered when Ron tried to escape with him and how much he cried when he wasn’t allowed access to the child for a week after. Ron had even gone far enough to fight back against being pumped so the elves had no choice but to bring their baby to him for feedings.
Removing all articles, Ron got on the bed and lifted his hips, his ass in the air begging to be fucked. Draco unzipped his own trousers and fished out his already hard cock wasting no time as he slammed into Ron. The young man hissed in pain, gripping the downy duvet until a few threads snapped. Draco knew there would undoubtedly be tearing but at that moment he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Why am I doing this to you?” Draco grunted as the hot walls squeezed around his cock. He grabbed the hips of his lover harshly, fingernails digging into delicate skin and slammed into him repeatedly.
“Be-because I’m yours,” Ron cried out, his voice hoarse with a mix of pain and pleasure. Draco hunched over, laying his chest flat on Ron’s Bach. His hands slid up to grasp the full tits and squeezed them, eyes watching as streams of milk spurted out and onto the bedspread. Ron moaned as fingers wrapped around his fat nipples and milked him like a cow. Draco pulled out and flipped the ginger onto his back before capturing his lips in a crushing kiss. He kissed and nipped his lover’s lips until around them was raw, pulsing red, and turning purple with bruises.

“You. Are. Mine,” Draco ground out, ever word accented by a harsh thrust, “You’ll never leave me. You’ll stay here until you die or I am done with you. If I ever see you throwing your hole at anyone else, I’ll make sure Scorpius never sees you unless you’re being bred like the bitch you are. He’ll watch as you are fucked into disarray by those beasts you rather be with. He’ll know what a whore his mother actually is,” With those words, Draco bit down on Ron’s clavicle and released inside him before pulling out, “Go clean yourself. We have dinner with my parents tonight. Try not to throw yourself at my father.”
With that Draco tucked himself back into his trousers and left the room heading to the nursery. Part of him wanted to go back and apologise. Ron didn’t even have a wand to defend himself against Vandal but still, he refused to call his husband for help. His pride got him touched, if he just submit to needing Draco then none of this would’ve happened.

Opening the door to the light green room, he smiled though he was greeted by silence. His son was already up from his nap and stood, holding the bar of the crib for support. His face was oddly solemn despite his chubby freckles cheeks with intelligent eyes seemed to observe everything while still being detached from it all. It was like yesterday he was a crying newborn but now their child was almost ten months old and would barely make a sound.
“Hello young one,” he cooed picking him up. Blonde hair and blue-grey eyes; the hallmarks of a Malfoy. The child blinked but looked away from him, “So calm, you remind me of my grandfather in his later years before he got the pox. Always thinking, hiding something behind his vacant expressions. Do you have secrets little one?” Draco sighed as his child went stiff in his arms, still silent.
Hearing the door creak, Draco looked to see Ron standing there, fresh clothes, healed up or concealed bruises. Blue eyes trained to the plush carpet on the floor. The bundle in the blond’s arms started to wriggle around as he noticed his mother’s appearance.
“Mmmm! Ma! Mama! Mama!” Scorpius squealed causing Ron to look up. The difference in his expressions was night and day. Just earlier he looked as though he wanted to die but now his eyes were full of warmth, his cheeks flushed with renewed colour and a smile graced his lips. His son also seemed to gain life as he thrashed around trying to free himself from his father’s grasp.
“Hello Scorpius,” Ron said walking towards them carefully like he was approaching a manticore rather than his husband. Not wanting to ruin his lover’s mood, a small kindness really, Draco easily handed over the child. Immediately the baby was cradled into his mother’s chest, kisses planted on his rosy cheeks.
Ron opened his shirt and guided the babe to a nipple and allowed him to latch on. Draco walked out of the room but didn’t go far. He knew as soon as he left Ron would talk to Scorpius unfiltered. All his true feelings would come out only to the child who could not understand that gravity of his words.
Ron sat in his rocking chair, the only thing he’d ever thanked Draco for, and began to speak, “He threatened to take you from me again. Every time he’s angry he does that and I hate him for it. He knows you’re all I have Scorpius, he knows. You’re the only family I have left sweetheart. Fred and Hermione are gone. Harry and everyone else are in hiding. I don’t even think they know I’m still alive,” Draco knew, they didn’t. He made sure when Ron became pregnant that he passed around the rumour that he’d been executed. The last thing he wanted was for Potter to come sniffing around and take his family from him.
“If I didn’t have you I’d end it all,” Draco perked up at that and made note to lock up all hazardous objects, “I’d just off myself,” Ron’s laugh was a broken as the rest of him, “I have nothing else to live for really,” His laugh turned more bitter, like an unripe fruit, “You know I tried to trick myself into loving him? Telling myself that he actually cares for me and that he loves me. But he’s never even said it. He just likes to hear me say it to feed his ego. I never mean it, I refuse to mean it.”
Draco rolled his eyes as he walked away from the room. Of course he cared for the idiot, it’s not his fault Ron couldn’t see that. When Ron had actually escaped with Scorpius and ran Draco was distraught. He trashed both his study and their bedroom by the time Ron and their child were caught and returned to him.
Ron would say he didn’t love him because he punished him but if he didn’t would his disobedient husband learn? He had to understand what it meant to belong to someone, to be able to submit to someone, and if that meant taking away Scorpius then so be it.
Walking out of their home, Draco made sure all the charms were in place to keep Ron or Scorpius from stepping out. He made this way through the gardens to the main manor, taking note of what flowers had bloomed already. He knew Ron liked irises, he always stole a few from the vases and put them in Scorpius’ nursery. Making his way into the main house he went straight to his father’s study. Not taking the time to knock he opened the door to see the elder man sitting in his chair.
“I’m not even going to waste my breath telling you how disrespectful that was. You would not even listen,” Lucius sighed. Rolling his eyes he sat down in the black leather chair across from his father.
“Any new developments since the meeting?”
“There was a sighting of a red-headed girl about Ginevra Weasley’s age near Aberdeen, but the Weasley’s would never be that close,” Draco nodded. He looked past his father at the rows of books behind him and wondered if Ron would read something if he took one.

“You seem distracted,” Lucius said opening his bottom drawer and taking out a bottle of Superior Red and two glasses, “Is it Ronald or Scorpius? Or both?”

“Have anything stronger?” Draco huffed when his father raised a delicate eyebrow and dug out a bottle of firewhisky and poured him a glass, “Scorpius is fine, he’s just more interested in his mother than me, but he’s a baby it’s how they are.”

“And his mother?”
Draco sighed taking the glass and knocking it back, the burn in his throat already feeling numb, “The usual, he hates me but loves Scorpius.”
Draco hated the look on his father’s face, his knowing eyes trained on him. Ever since his stint in Azkaban the patriarch has become more transparent with his emotions. He’d taken a step back from the Death Eaters for his own “health” and with him Narcissa, leaving Draco the only Malfoy left directly serving Voldemort.
“You seem to forget he is still a prisoner Draco, not a reluctant bride and your treatment of him doesn’t make the situation any better,” Draco frowned. He wasn’t sure when but his parents had both developed a small soft spot for Ron around the time he became pregnant. Whenever Ron would sport a new bruise it was met with scornful looks from his father and pleading eyes from his mother.

“He did not choose you nor to have a baby Draco. You’re lucky he loves the child instead of seeing him as an extension of you. The only way they were able to find him was when they heard Scorpius cry.” Draco remembered the report. Ron must’ve been planning his escape his whole pregnancy. He knew every patrol route and break times, broke into the potion supply storage to steal enough wolfsbane to mask himself and Scorpius. He even figured out how to undo the charm on his collar. Only when the baby started crying could they be located.  
Draco groaned knowing it was his own fault. Ron had no reason to like him, let alone love him. Yet like a fool, Draco had fallen in love with the ginger. Long nights spent next to him, taking care of him when the potions caused adverse effects seemed to have that consequence.
He remembered how Ron would say sweet things to him while under heavy medication. Telling him how nice he was to take care of him himself instead of leaving him to the elves. How lucky he was that Draco would cuddle him when the chills hit. Sure, Ron had not been lucid when saying it but they still impacted the man enough that his feelings towards the captive had grown.

When Ron started to lactate and the pain became unbearable, Draco was there to alleviate the suffering with tender sucking and gentle rubs. He’d held Ron’s hand through his long labour and never left his side for the first week after their child was born. He’d taken every instance with Ron to heart, effortlessly falling for him.
Ron didn’t feel the same.

“If you truly want his approval you have to earn it,” Lucius said with a small smile.


Ron woke up with a start as he jumped up. The pain the rippled through his lower back didn’t matter, Scorpius was no longer in his arms. His eyes fell on Draco, handing off the sleeping child to a small pack of house elves. He was already dressed nicely in semi-formal robes, that meant they’d have more than just his parents for dinner then.

“I see you’re awake sleepyhead,” Draco smiled causing Ron to look away from him. He was quite familiar with the cycle now. After a harsh punishment always came nice Draco. The Draco who held his hand and feed him foods he’d never heard of. The Draco that would take them out to the gardens and let Ron walk amongst the flowers for as long as he liked and even dip his feet in the fountain if he so desired.

But then something would happen. Sometimes it’d be really big, like sabotage done by the Order. A new resistance movement popping up. Other countries being uncooperative with the Ministry. Or sometimes it would be small things that piled up like leprechaun gold. An elf breaking a glass and then Scorpius would be fussy when Draco held him, then his mother would complain about something, then a werewolf would track dirt into the house, then Ron would forget to kiss him hello.

Next thing he knew, he’d be on the floor with blood in his mouth and pain on his cheek.

“Love,” Oh how Ron loathed that pet name, “Your robes are on the bed. Is thirty minutes enough time for you to get ready?” Ron nodded and stood, walking stiffly to Draco’s bedroom. Ron’s bedroom was in The Burrow. Upon entering the room he took note of how the once green and silver bedspread was replaced with the green and black one. It made sense considering milk, cum, and blood all stained the previous set.

The robes were black with sheer parts around his shoulders and subtle lace accents. It was sleek and form-fitting, no doubt to show off whatever figure the blond always went on about. Pulling off his clothes, Ron froze as he caught his reflection in the mirror. One huge scar ran the across his lower abdomen. It was a hideous reminder of what he’d been through. Months of potions that gave him all kinds of maladies to grow something that didn’t belong in his body. All of that just for it to almost rupture and kill him. He hated how they didn’t take it out, that they left it in there. Some nights he wished it would rot inside him.

“Ron, though you are beautiful and I can definitely stare at you all night, can we admire you later? We are on a time crunch after all,” Draco said from the doorway. Closing the door he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Ron’s middle, “Speak to me love. No matter what you believe, I do like hearing your voice.”

“I have nothing to say,” Ron muttered taking a step forward. He broke out of the arms and began to dress. The clothes looked nice, undoubtedly expensive, and the material felt like it was made of clouds. But on himself, they were hideous. Too new, too dark and entirely too tight.

He flinched when lips touched his neck, kissing right under the black band around his neck. Nimble fingers took off the elastic neck piece exposing the slightly paler flesh underneath. He hated the collars, not only were they made to keep him in line but they were, for lack of a better word, nice. Everything rich people owned had to be apparently. They were lined with plush fleece as to not cut into his skin and he had many for any occasion. One for every day wear, for fancy dinners, for frolicking in the garden, even a special one in a glass box that he wore during their sham of a wedding.  

Draco put one of the nicer ones on, a black leather band with the Malfoy family crest on the pendant. Chokers and necklaces were the words Mrs.Malfoy used when she helped him pick out his designs but he knew they were just fancy dog tags. He was surprised they didn’t come with Draco’s name and the address of the manor on the back.

“Ron,” Draco started tensely, almost Ron was the known abuser in the room, “Do you want to go to dinner?” Ron raised an eyebrow, Draco never asked, he demanded. It was never “Do you want” but always “We are”. Ron nodded quickly hoping he passed whatever arbitrary test of obedience he was just given. The last thing he wanted was for Narcissa to look at him with those sad eyes if he showed up sporting a fresh mark.

Draco nodded and walked to the door, holding out an arm, “I’m ready when you are dear,” Ron held in a sigh and held onto him as they walked out. However, Draco surprised him by turning them in the direction of the nursery, “They can wait a few minutes, we are leaving our child at home for them,” he said with a wink. A small smile graced Ron’s face for all of three seconds before he stamped it down and forced his lips back to a thin line.

Scorpius sat on the floor, surrounded by toys and elves alike. Ron let go and walked to the playmat, but froze before picking up the baby. He waited three agonising seconds for electricity to run through his body but nothing came, instead he heard soft laughter from behind him.

“Someone’s excited. Well go on I said we can make them wait a few minutes, not an hour,” realising he wouldn’t be punished for his minor transgression, Ron tallied it as the first instance for the impending explosion. Maybe if he played his cards right it would be more than a week before his next big punishment.

He picked up his son, kissing his freckled cheeks. He often lamented to himself that his son was the spitting image of Draco (those damn Malfoy genes) but he could see a little of himself in the child. His eyes while still a cool grey, had muted blue undertones. His cheeks were littered with freckles that obviously didn’t belong to Draco and Ron hoped he’d at least grow long and lanky so he could pretend that was due to him as well.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered. Ron frowned as he put down Scorpius. Realising he was being left, the small child held up his arms and began calling on his mother again. His tiny face bunched up turning red and angry as his nearly toothless mouth opened up to cry.

“Come on Scorpius, you can't spend all day attached at the hip to your mum, can you?” Draco said chuckling as he bent down to look at the child. Instantly the child stopped crying and instead tried to crawl around him. Ron remembered reading in one of the parenting books Narcissa forced upon  given him during his pregnancy. Something about child detachment from a parent. Draco was busy a lot, and most of the time when he had Scorpius it was to withhold him from Ron. He didn’t even know if Draco was the one taking care of him when he separated them for a week.

“We should go, don’t want to be late,” Ron stuttered putting a shaky hand on Draco’s shoulder. The blonde popped up like one of those muggle games his dad used to talk about with the moles and the mallet, turned on his heel and gave Ron a peck on the cheek.

“Why do you look so surprised, love?” Draco asked taking his hand and leading him out of the door.


Dinner was bland. Not the food, of course, house elves were excellent cooks, but having to eat with everyone trying to be so stiff-lipped and professional because none of them knew when Voldemort would make his grand appearance. Every so often he’d see someone, and by someone, he meant Pansy fucking Parkinson, glare at Ron, who got to sit near the head of the table.

He knew that she was always thought his place belonged to her and looking back on their school years he could understand why. Pansy was always hanging on to him and being the, as Ron so eloquently put it, egocentric attention whore he was he relished in her attention. But he’d never actually date or marry her, she was called pug-faced Parkinson for a reason.

Looking at Ron’s plate he frowned, most of the food had been pushed around instead of being eaten. The only thing gone was the mash.

“Do you not like it? We can eat something else at home?” From what he recalled, Ron was never picky with food, ever. Being poor didn’t provide that luxury.

“It’s fine, just- I have a feeling that something bad is gonna happen,” Ron swallowed hard and reached for his glass, “It’s just a feeling don’t mind me,” he said taking a large sip of water. Draco shrugged, it wasn’t uncommon for Ron to feel uncomfortable around a bunch of people who had tried to kill him and are actively trying to kill his friends and family. A swirl of black accompanied with the underlying stench of death filled the room as Voldemort appeared, Bellatrix at his side.

Soon the whole room went rigid as all turned their attention to the head of the table. In the corner of his eye, he could see Ron gripping his fork, his knuckles turning ghostly white. He bumped his partner’s foot and rested a hand on his thigh until he put the fork down. He made note to commend Ron for no longer shaking when in the Dark Lord's presence.

“Good evening,” Voldemort greeted, “I suppose most of you do not know why you have been summoned at random. But it will all be explained, Ms. Parkinson, the floor is yours,” Draco narrowed his eyes as Pansy stood. She bowed her head graciously and had a small smile on her lips as she cleared her throat in a practiced ladylike manner.

“Thank you, my lord. I have requested a meeting this evening kito bring up a solution to end the rebellions. The main reason that masses continue to rise up against us because they have hope. They see Potter and the Order as their heroes. If destroy the heroes, we destroy their hope.”

“And make Potter a martyr in the process,” Snuffed out Crabbe Sr., with a disapproving look in his eye. Pansy, ever gracious of course, almost didn’t roll her eyes at him.

“Potter has been a martyr since his conception.  As I was saying, if we destroy the Order, we destroy hope. But we haven’t figured out a way to properly draw them out, until now,” Pansy smirked as her eyes locked on Ron, “The Order thinks that Ron Weasley is dead. If we use him as bait we can draw out Potter.”

“How exactly will this work? Word of mouth will mean nothing to Potter and they have the aid of the Aurors, illusions or polyjuice potions may not work to the effectiveness we want,” Draco almost wanted to applaud Thorfinn Rowle for using his brain for once in his life.

“We don’t need illusions when we have the real thing. Weasley is not a Death Eater nor is he essential to the cause. We already got what we needed out of him,” Draco kept his face impassive as his eyes scanned the room. His father wore the same face as he while his mother’s eyes had almost popped out of her head. The worst look was that of his aunt, the wretched woman was already nodding along probably imagining cursing Molly Weasley to oblivion, “He can easily be used as live bait. Whether he lives or not doesn’t matter.”

Draco’s blood ran cold as more and more Death Eaters voiced their agreement.

“Then it’s settled! We use Weasley to draw out and destroy Potter!” Voldemort said, his voice loud and commanding, “But where are our manners? The blood traitor does have an owner after all,” those disgusting beady eyes turned on Draco, “Draco, will you allow us to use Weasley to draw out Potter.”

Draco refused to look at either Ron or his mother, “It doesn’t matter to me. Do what you wish.”  

Chapter Text

Numbness. He knew he was moving, breathing, living. He knew. He could see the fork in his hand shuffling around the veg on his plate for the seventh time, moving the carrots over there, the asparagus closer to the edge, and making a halo of peas around the chicken breast he had yet to slice into. It looked good too. He could feel Draco’s hand on his thigh every so often, a pat or a rub or a squeeze. But still, he was numb.

He should be happy, elated even. Use him for bait to lure Harry and the others. They had McGonagall, Shacklebolt, his mum, and a whole lot of great wizards. Maybe they’d win the battle and he’d be with them again. Or they’d all die. They’d all die and Scorpius would be raised by Pansy Parkinson. Even if they escaped, Scorpius would still be left with Pansy Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson who wanted him gone.

It was like someone was playing the radio in another room with the way all the voices around him were muted. Their voices muffled by the walls of his mind and drowned out by the silent screams he let out. He looked up and saw mouths moving, faces changing, but the noises were no longer clear. The last thing that was clear was Draco giving the go-ahead to use him as bait.

Time was irrelevant, a minute became an hour, then two seconds, then an entire decade. Only when the smell of death crescendoed then faded again, the food before him disappeared, and the fork was plucked from his hand, did he even realise dinner was over. He never did get to taste the chicken.

“Ronald,” Soft hand on his face, no more hand on his thigh. He jerked up to see those eyes again. They were like his mum’s when Fred and George, oh Merlin Fred, would play a terrible joke on him. But this wasn’t a joke and Draco wasn’t the twins. They looked at him with pity, but he didn’t feel angry or upset. He didn’t feel anything anymore. He stood up when he felt a hand grip his arm, he expected to see Draco at his side but instead, it was the elder Malfoy. If there was one thing Ron thought he’d never think, it was that Lucius Malfoy could be a nice man. Sure he was still probably a despicable blood purist, but he didn’t treat Ron like dirt.

He followed them out, looking back once to see Draco talking to Pansy. Maybe they’d be happy together when he was gone like they were at the Yule Ball during fourth year. He let himself be led through the manor, the walls were cold, impassive, like Draco’s voice. “Doesn’t matter to me” Ron doesn’t matter to me.  

He knew this path, a right, then a left, up some stairs, then a straight shot down the hall. The way to his favourite place in the manor, Narcissa’s private sunroom, or the “solarium” as they liked to call it, fancy for nothing gits. He had spent many days in there since he first arrived at the manor. It was where they chose designs for his collars, drank tea in the afternoon, had brunch on Sundays, where he got parenting advice from other Death Eater wives, and where Narcissa told him countless stories about Draco. All from before he went off to Hogwarts.

Even in the dark, the room was illuminated by floating spheres of light. The transparent glass walls provided a look at the stars above and the moonlit garden that separated the main house from the guesthouses. Ron would miss the gardens, especially the irises.

“Ron, sweetheart please look at me,” When he turned he realised that Lucius had left them alone, probably for some mother to mother chat, “Ron we won’t let them do this to you,” she was muffled still. This time like his head was underwater.

“Where’s Scorpius?” She sighed and flashed that sad smile at him before calling for an elf. He could see her face, the fine lines that creased her brow like the pages of the oldest scrolls in the Hogwarts library. She was old? Tired? Worn out? Yeah worn out, like the carpet in the guestroom Ron paced in the night before his “wedding”.

A piercing cry. It was clear as the glass that encased them and louder than anything Ron heard in the last hour. His son, Scorpius, had arrived with a small horde of house elves. Red-faced and hands balled up in two little fists, the child thrashed around looking for some relief.  

“Hello young one, are you hungry?” Ron smiled picking up the child. His hand ran through soft white-blonde hair. With every pat, it became more and more damp, and only then did Ron realise he was crying. But it didn’t matter. He lifted his shirt and allowed Scorpius to attach to one nipple and begin to feed. Before he knew it, the familiar softness of Narcissa’s handkerchief was on him, dabbing the tears off his face. She’d used it many times, whether she was cleaning tears from his eyes, or blood from his lips.

“Ron, we’re going to get you out of here. I swear, we won’t let them use you,” she said, petting his head softly.

“Please take care of Scorpius. Just make sure he’s safe after I leave, I don’t care if he thinks Pansy is his real mum, it’d probably be best for him to-”

“Ron we’re getting both of you out of here. Both you and Scorpius will be safe, I promise. We just need Draco to leave the manor for a while and then-”

The door creaked open and she stopped talking. Ron hated him. He hated him so much. He stood there sentinel like he wasn’t throwing him away. Like he wasn’t throwing away someone he was so desperate to keep. But what else could he expect from a spoiled prat like Malfoy? He wanted a new toy already.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked gently like he didn’t want to scare them. Narcissa stood, walked up to her son, and stared him down. She was a tall woman already and even looking up at her son she exuded superiority. Her hand went up to Draco’s cheek like many times before but instead of a mother’s comforting caress, she slapped him across the face.

Ron was torn between flinching back from the normally calm woman’s display of violence or having his first real laugh in years. There was something so satisfying, almost primally so, about seeing Draco get a right slap across the face. To see him holding back a tear or two. To see him in pain, marked up, and upset.

“Bloody hell, mother!” Draco didn’t even get all the words out before the matriarch walked out of the room with all the regality of a woman who did not just open palm slap the snot from her son’s nose. Ron allowed himself a small smile as he removed Scorpius from his chest and burped him.

“Let’s go home love,” Draco said rubbing his cheek. Ron was never one for literature and language arts, but that phrase belonged in some collection of hyperbolic phrases. Or would the right word be ironic? He got up and walked to the door, Draco at his side in an instant, “I can carry Scorpius if you-” as if on cue the child began to fuss at the sight of his father’s outstretched arms, “Nevermind.”  They do say children are good judges of character.

Going through the halls again, it wasn’t long before they got outside and the air hit, quite chilly for mid-April. He tucked his child closer in his chest, hoping to shield him from the elements for their short walk back to the house. It was quite heavy, Draco’s suit jacket, as he draped it on Ron’s shoulders, his arm wrapping around them like an actual loving husband and father. They trekked through the garden, Ron’s eyes trained on the ground. Maybe if he asked nicely he’d be able to see the gardens tomorrow, didn’t people on death row get a final request or something.

“Ron give Scorpius to the elves,” Ron frowned looking at the gaggle in front of him. He always hated how they were referred to as “the elves”, maybe all Hermione’s S.P.E.W stuff got to him or his relationship with poor Dobby but he knew them all by name. The ones who took care of Scorpius were three girls and two lads, Mixie, Lex, Frilly, Lynd, and Mort.

Ron shook his head, Draco didn’t deserve words and began walking to the nursery, tilting his head for the elves to follow him. He liked the way they all crowded around him, so comfortable to be in his presence. He’d seen their eyes when anyone else would enter the room and he guessed he made the same ones. Wide and fearful, ready for promised pain.

“Wheezy,” he told them to call him that, never master, never Ron, always Wheezy, “Do you want any help?” Mort asked. He was the tallest one, wearing a makeshift dress from a nice tablecloth Ron had “accidentally” ruined because before that he had a tattered potato sack.

“No, actually you all are free to go for the night. I won’t need anything. Thanks for watching him,” And with that, he entered the nursery alone. Sitting on the rocking chair he laughed. He laughed loud and hard looking down at Scorpius’ blue-grey eyes, “I wonder if you’ll start asking questions. One day you’ll wake up and say, ‘Wait a minute. Neither mum nor dad, or I guess Mother and Father for this lot, have freckles. Why do I have them?’ And then they’ll spin some tale about sunlight and genetics and whatnot. But you have them because of me! Me! Ha!”

Ron knew the tears were falling again but he didn’t care to wipe them away. His giggles only subsided when the door opened again and Draco appeared. He had the audacity to look upset like something bad happened to him. He walked in front of Ron, dropped to his knees and put his head in his lap, looking up at him with mournful eyes. Ron smiled when Scorpius kicked him right in the nose.

“Ow! Scorpius don’t kick. That’s bad,” Draco chastised, standing up and holding out his arms, “Ron give him to me. He needs to go to bed and so do you.” Ron looked down at Scorpius and began tickling him, he loved to hear his son laugh as his fingers stroked his belly, “Ron stop ignoring me.”

“Why? Are you gonna shock me? I won’t make good bait if I’m dead ya know,” he stood up walking to the crib and put the baby inside, almost laughing himself into another stupor. Just that morning he wouldn’t have dared to speak to Draco that way, but now? Fuck it.

“Ronald,” Oh no full name, what’s he gonna do? Hit him? Yell? Rape him again? “Please calm down, love.”

“Don’t call me that! Don’t call me love! When have you ever loved me? Did you love me when you forced a collar on me? Or when you forced a marriage on me? Or, or was it when you forced yourself on me? Huh? Did you realise how much you loved me when you tore my arse open with your cock? When you forced me to carry your child? Fuck you Malfoy. I hope they kill me so I have no opportunity to ever see your face again,” it felt good to yell. He knew Scorpius was crying but he couldn’t stop. But the dam broke on his emotions, years of held back resentment, pain, anger flowed like the tears down his face. Red hot emotion like the flush on his skin, nothing but feeling poured through his mouth until his knees hit the ground and his sounds became raw and incoherent. Like a toy without batteries, he fell to the side and stopped moving, only breathing slow and shuddering. Two familiar arms braced under his body and hoisted him up, taking him from the room.

He closed his eyes, utterly exhausted, as his body hit the downy bed, maybe if he was lucky he’d die in his sleep that night.

It took Draco exactly two minutes to find something made of glass and throw it at his study wall. Fucking Death Eaters. Fucking Voldemort. Fucking Pansy fucking Parkinson!

“Draco, may I have a word?” She smiled had the gall to smile in his face after sentencing his husband to what amounted to death, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to lead the expedition with me, it’ll be like when we were fifth years on the Inquisitorial Squad,” she giggled, covering her face.

With a tight-lipped smile, Draco politely declined her invitation, “Someone has to watch Scorpius, he’d be quite lonely without his mother around.”

“Oh you can leave him with the house elves, can’t you. By the way, when can I meet him, I do suppose he should meet his new step-mother soon,” Draco turned and walked out of the room, signaling for a few elves to escort her out.

“Should I put in an order for more decanters for you to take your rage out on or are you going to reuse that one?” Draco whirled to see his father already sitting on his leather chair and carrying Scorpius. He still wore his clothes from dinner and allowed the baby to play with the edge of his scarf, “He was crying quite loud. What were you and Ronald doing?”

“He had a breakdown. He’s sleeping now. And weren’t you the one who always wants people to knock before they enter?” He said taking a seat on the ground, bringing out his wand and repairing his decanter.

“When you become the head of this family, you too can roam the grounds as you please and enter without knocking. Until then, only I can do so,” He said lifting Scorpius to stand on his lap, “And then one day you’ll do so too, won’t you?” Draco almost cringed, it was strange to see his father acting so...paternal. Sure his father had never hit him and he got everything he wanted but hugs? Baby talk? Those were never Malfoy staples.

“He’s supposed to be asleep,” The heir sighed, as he moved to lay completely on the ground, “Stop spoiling him like that, he’ll never sleep then.”

“He’s not even a year old, how much damage can be done letting him stay up for one night. Besides we have something urgent to discuss so please get off the floor and act like an adult,” there he was. Classic Lucius with the cutting remarks at his maturity. Draco however, was in no mood to act his age and rolled over facing away from his father.

“We can discuss whatever you want tomorrow morning. Since you want to play grandfather, put the child to bed yourself.”

“‘The child’, seeing that’s how you refer to your own son, no wonder you had no problem signing his other parent’s death warrant,” Lucius snarked, “What is wrong with you? Just today you complained Ronald thought you didn’t love him and now you’re letting them use him for their asinine plan. Tell me you’re smarter than this and you don’t think that we’d actually catch Potter this way!

“I’m not an idiot!” Draco yelled rolling over, “How was I supposed to say no? Just tell them no? You expected me to tell the Dark Lord no? Maybe you’re senile, all those months in Azkaban finally getting to you huh?” Draco pulled himself off the ground and marched over ripping his son from his father’s hands. Scorpius started to fuss, trying to push his father away as he was held tightly to his chest, “And this little, oh will you just stop?” He said to the baby, “He hates me!” Tiny hands and feet beat on Draco as the child tried to get out of his grip

“Well, you are trying to smother him,” Lucius sighed. The elder stood and walked to the door, “Good night Draco,” and with that, he exited the room. Small sniffles remained as Scorpius, know exhausted, still tried to protest his current state. The two exited the study and walked to the nursery.

“I love you, you know?” Draco sat down in the rocking chair and moved back and forth. The baby laid spread on his lap like a tragic greco-roman hero. His head lolled to the side, eyes facing away from Draco, “I deserve this don’t I? You think I hate you and you hate me because of it. You almost killed him when you were born and honestly I would have resented you, hated you even if he died.”

“Something’s wrong. Draco it hurts! DRACO!” Ron screeched as he started to shake on the bed. His face went from a flushed red to deathly pale and rivers of sweat came pouring down his face, “GET IT OUT!”

Draco shushed Ron, stroking back sweat drenched fringe, “What is happening!” Draco wanted to rip back the curtain but he’d been told that exposing Ron’s inside would make him faint and Ron go into shock. But this wasn’t right, Ron had taken the potion that numbed the lower half of his body, he shouldn’t feel pain unless-

“Ron’s body is trying to push the baby out, but there’s nowhere to go so it is about to rupture. It’s taking longer to get him out due to the procedure, Ron may start to feel pain.”

Something was wrong.

“Rupture? Draco! Draco fix it! Draco, I can feel him pushing! DRACO!,” Ron’s words slipped out of his mouth, devolving into screams of pain and terror. He cringed at how similar he sounded to Hermione when his aunt tortured her. The blond kisses his forehead and tried to calm him, whispering sweet words into his ear.

“Get the blood replenishing potion!” The mediwizard yelled to his staff. Something ran through Draco, like a bolt of cold lightning. Ron was bleeding out. Ron was dying. The baby, their baby was killing him. His heir was killing his husband.

“Can you not go faster? He’s dying for Merlin’s sake!” His vision clouded with tears as he held onto Ron’s limp hand tightly, the pulse in his wrist slowed. The screams had stopped and the potion was being poured into his mouth by one mediwitch while another massaged his neck to help it go down. The next sound he heard were cries, loud and boisterous.

“Mr.Malfoy, your son,” it was red and ugly. It killed his Ron.

“He’s beautiful,” came a weak voice beside him, turning Draco saw blue eyes half open and a small smile. Tears ran down Ron’s face as the child was brought to him, “Welcome to the world Scorpius Hugo Weasley,” Though Draco had wanted to change the child’s middle name, now didn’t care if Ron wanted to name him after the entire Weasley ancestral line. His husband was alive.

Blue-grey eyes and an ever impassive face. The light sprinkling of freckles from too much time in the gardens. His mother never could stop comparing his own baby photos to Scorpius. He rose, child in hand, and put him down in his crib. With a flick of his hand, the mobile started up as he heard one soft coo before he left the room.

Hands. He was being touched. Nimble fingers ran through Ron’s locks traveling from the fringe on his forehead to the nape of his neck. When he first got there, they sheared it all of. It was a weird look for him, but he preferred it to the disaster locks from fourth year. Curse teenage experimentation, he hoped he could burn every picture of himself from then.

“Love, turn over,” Draco’s voice was thick with sleep. In no mood to continue being stubborn, for the time being anyway,  he rolled over, eyes still closed. Warm lips pressed against his forehead, then his cheek, but stopped before his lips. His heart jumped as he felt the warm air from Draco brush against his lips. Opening his eyes, storm cloud eyes greeted him but this time without lightening.

“Go to bed,” Ron whispered turning back around. No matter how he felt, he couldn’t deny that Draco was attractive. Their room was lit by soft candlelight and it only added to the allure of the Malfoy’s chiseled features, especially his reflective eyes. An arm came around his waist, Draco’s large hand landing on his stomach.

“Can you tell me you love me?” He whispered leaving a kiss on his neck. Small circles were rubbed on Ron’s stomach.

“Did you change me while I was sleeping?” Ron asked. His clothing from dinner was now replaced with silk and satin pyjamas. Apparently, rich people can’t sleep in cotton or something.

“Yes, because I care about you,” Another kiss. Ron rolled his eyes and tried to move to the edge of the bed only to be pulled flush against Draco’s chest, “I care about you so much.” Ron had so many things to say, but he decided he still wasn’t in the mood to argue and closed his eyes.


He woke up alone. He could still feel the remnants of Draco’s body heat on the sheets around him. The curtains were still closed and the candles blown out, it looks like he wasn’t meant to be woken up. He got up and stretched, chest full and ready for feeding. He opened the wardrobe and picked out a light green dress shirt with a silver Malfoy crest embroidered on the pocket.

He smiled as the familiar snap and crackle of House Elf magic, “Good morning Wheezy!” It was Mort again. His ears were much longer than the other elves to the point where Ron “threw away” some ribbons for him and the other elves that needed to hold their ears back, “Scorpi is awake and waiting for you. Young Master Malfoy is with him too,” Mort said using his magic to pull out a pair of black trousers, “Young Master Malfoy told Mort to give you a big bubbly bath. For your nerves!” Ron sighed, waking up late, bubble baths, spending time with Scorpius. Next, they would have brunch in the garden and spend a nice day together. Nice Draco really was back. Maybe he’d stay that way until it came time for Ron to go.

Ron avoided his reflection when he undressed.

After his bath, he walked the familiar path to the nursery passing by a few portraits, his favorite being of the ridge overlooking the ocean. The crash of the waves reminded him of Bill and Fleur's home. He wondered if they were still in their small seaside abode.

Entering the room he was greeted by the sight of Draco on the floor reaching under the crib. He was flat on his chest scowling at whatever was under it and muttering at it. It was only when Ron heard a giggle did he realise what happened.

“Draco, is Scorpius under there?” Draco popped his head up yelling out when his head collided with the bar of the crib.

“I put him on the floor to play with something, I didn’t know he could crawl that fast. He won’t come out from under there,” Draco stood up and brushed himself off. Ron laughed as he came to the crib and looked under it. Sure enough two eyes stared back at him.

“Good morning, you gonna come out for daddy? Come out Scorpius, come on,” Ron cooed. However it seemed this was more than Scorpius being a little shit to Draco, the child refused to crawl back out, “Draco just lift the crib and I’ll grab him. Little guy doesn’t wanna move.”

Draco nodded and said the incantation which lifted the crib up and exposed not only Scorpius but the stuffed Weasel he had with him. Ron bent down and picked him up, peppering kisses all over his face, “Silly boy. Hiding under there huh? You’re lucky you didn’t get stuck.” Ron took a seat in his rocking chair, taking that the cushion was changed from his orange one to a green one. He undid the button on his shirt and exposed a swollen pink nipple.

“Shouldn’t he start on solid food soon? He’s a year old in June.” Ron ignored him and moved the babe to his swollen teat, allowing him to start feeding. A disapproving shadow cast over him in the form of Draco’s imposing figure, “Ron, really. He can’t breastfeed forever.”

“He’s supposed to for a year at least. Or will I not last that long?” His voice was as flat as Parkinson’s chest. Draco sighed shaking his head and kneeling in front of him. His hands came to grab hold of Scorpius’ feet before he laid his head down.

“Will you sing for us?” Ron’s breath hitched, “ You have a lovely voice, but you never sing to me. I like the song about the dragon scales. I really like that one.”

Ron sighed and began to sing.


Chapter Text

“Dear, you’re still full,” Draco noted as he stared at the still swollen chest of his partner. It seemed to be that he was weening Scorpius off of him now but he even with fewer feedings milk production wasn’t slowing down. He sat on the loveseat and began to unclasp the buttons of Ron’s soft dress shirt. Blue eyes stared forward, watching Scorpius play on the floor with the elves and toys. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day. They already sent out the false correspondence or Ron’s “execution” via a prisoner that “avoided” recapture during his escape attempt. He would undoubtedly run to Potter and tell him the plans they allowed him to hear, and Potter being Potter would come in all his chosen one glory.

Ron hummed in acknowledgement. The last few days all his emotions were reserved for Scorpius and Scorpius only. Not even his parents seemed to get anything from him. Speaking of his parents, the two elders had practically excommunicated him. They had taken up their own version of protest. Having dinner while he was still working, only to leave a lukewarm plate for him to eat alone after they had all finished. He’d hear them all talking happily just to walk into the sitting room and be met with nothing but cold shoulders or worse, paralysing eyes that all voiced disgust and disappointment. The last touch bestowed upon him by his mother was a slap to the face. He was being ostracized by his own family.

Soft and warm. Draco’s hands felt the small breast before squeezing gently, “You shouldn’t have let them get this full you know. Doesn’t it hurt?” Ron’s eyes shifted down to look at him for a moment before looking away, “Do you want me to,” Draco gestured to the now leaking nipple, waiting for permission to do anything else.

“You’ve never asked me before,” it was a gentle whisper but felt like a loaded cannon. Words so soft yet implications so harsh.  The blonde didn’t know whether to acknowledge it or not. On one hand they were the first words Ron had spoken to him in days but on the other hand, they were not exactly the kind he wanted to hear. Choosing the first option, Draco guided the redhead to straddle him.

Planting soft kisses on his partner’s chest, Draco took a nipple into his mouth and sucked softly. A warm splash of milk landed on his tongue as he did so causing him to hum with contentment. Moving his hands to rest on slender hips, he pushed his face deeper into Ron’s chest before switching to the other breast. One of Ron’s hands came to rest on his head, either out of misplaced comfort or a weak attempt to get him to slow down or stop.

He could feel himself getting turned on, but it was the middle of the day and he could already tell Ron would have some choice words, or at least a choice expression if he tried to do something to him now. Scorpius was never out of sight for too long these days whether awake or asleep. On the second day of Ron’s near twenty-four-hour surveillance, the blonde relented and had Scorpius’ crib moved to their room. Almost growling to himself, Draco could hear the unbalanced steps of his father as well as the clicks of his mother’s heels.

“Draco, can you not do that in the sitting room? I know this is your house but it is still indecent. Especially with a child present,” his father scolded. Looking around Ron, who now had a bit of blush staining his straight face the heir rolled his eyes. Draco let out a disgruntled noise as he was pushed back by Ron who stood up while frantically buttoning his shirt up. He skipped a buttonhole resulting in a jumbled mess on the front of his milk stained shirt but chose not to resolve it, instead picking up Scorpius and made his way to the exit.

“Ron, dear let’s have tea,” Narcissa called after him as she made her own exit. Turning his attention to his father Draco sat back and stared at him. Maybe if he was a child again, believing in foolish displays of outward power, he’d see the same weak bodied man, aged by his time in Azkaban, that Voldemort did. But he knew those eyes, the same ones that coached him throughout his life, ingrained in him the lessons of the Malfoy family. Where his body had stopped his mind only continued.

Sanctimonia Vincet Semper, purity always prevails.  Though no truer words were said to describe their family, Draco offered his own: Cogita Semper Et Semper Insidias; Think always and always plot.

“What are you planning,” He’d never get anywhere without being direct. While he could get someone like Ron or even Potter to eventually spill their guts with enough wordplay and prodding, where he was a novice, his father was a master.

“I’m not planning anything Draco,” grey eyes scanned the wrinkle lined face searching for any indication of a lie, “You’ve isolated yourself, no need to get suspicious of anyone else. You’re not Ceasar after all,” the elder man chuckled at his own reference.

“You all avoid me, not the other way around. I am not the one shifting dinner times nor giving you all the silent treatment,” he was careful to keep his tone in check. Too much expression and his father would escalate.

“The minute you allowed them to have Ron, you isolated yourself Draco. Maybe when he is gone, we can try the family thing again with Pansy,” suddenly he was twelve again, being scolded for not getting a higher mark than Granger or getting into a fight with Potter. The dismissal, the disdain, but most infuriatingly the begrudged acceptance that this was just the way it was going to be. He’d always be second to Granger, always fight with Potter, and always be a screw-up son.

“What was I supposed to do!” He yelled as he jumped up from the seat. Clunky steps were taken as he walked towards his father, careful not to fully break down more than he already had, “Say no? To them all! Think with whatever brains the dementors left you, you old fool! How do I justify myself? With love? Something that he of all people will never understand?” He failed. He was yelling now, loud and obscene. No doubt his face was contorted with his pathetic rage.

His father’s face was the ancient stone that made up the Malfoy family crypt. Unyielding, unchanging, cold, and hard, “I always hoped you’d become more like me when you were a child. Now I see you’re more like me than I thought,” Lucius stood with the small wobble of his bad leg, and walked out of the room.

“Ronald, you know we won’t let anything happen to you, right?” He nodded along. What could they really do? Tomorrow he’d be taken to some outpost where Harry and the others will try and save him just to be flanked and slaughtered. In all that confusion, Parkinson would no doubt hit him with the killing curse and then Scorpius would grow up wondering why he had freckles.

“There’s nothing you can do Narcissa,” he looked down at Scorpius before standing from his seat. Stopping in front of the older woman he dropped to his knees and placed the infant in her silk covered lap, “You’ve been good to me since I came here, please do me this one last request; take care of him. I don’t care if he thinks Parkinson is his real mother, but please don’t let her hurt him for the sake of her own children. Please protect him even if you couldn’t protect me,” Scorpius began to fuss as tears dripped onto his face.

Two slender hands cupped his face, the cool metal ring was ice against his flushed face, “Ron, when I said we are going to protect you, I mean it. You and Scorpius will be safe, just listen to me very closely-” The door to the sitting room opened with Lucius in the doorway.

“Have you told him yet?” He asked walking in. He scanned the hall, before closing the door gently. His face was deathly serious, as he sat down.

“I was just about to,” Ron swallowed harshly at the change in tone. Her voice was night and day, from comforting mother to something much more calculating and serious.

“What do you mean? What’s going on?” Ron asked as he was helped up by the matriarch.

“Ronald, we’re helping you escape. Tonight we’re going to stage your escape and send you on your way-”

“You can’t!” Ron barely knew anything about Wiltshire let alone the rest of Britain. His family surely had abandoned the Burrow by now and for all he knew, 12 Grimmauld Place was no longer safe. Where was he to go, “It’ll be better if I just stay. I can’t survive out there with Scorpius, I can’t,” he was shaking enough at that point that Narcissa took Scorpius from his hands and Lucius sat him down gently.

“Ronald, you will be safe, will have to make a sacrifice,” the blood rushed from his face when he heard those words, “You will be guided back to Potter and your family by Vandal.”

“NO! He’ll hurt Scorpius or turn him! Or he’ll betray us, how could you do that? Please, I rather just stay here and accept what’s coming, please I don’t want to put Scorpius in danger, please,” his knees bruised as he fell to them, his legs no longer having the strength to support the unbearable weight of his stress.

“Ron there will be no tomorrow, everything is already in place, Potter is expecting you not to truly be there. Vandal is safe, we promise. We need him to lead you to Aberdeen safely, he’s the only one who knows how to avoid the Snatchers,” Lucius argued. His voice wasn’t yelling or harsh, instead, it was truly understanding of Ron’s fears.

“Tonight we will break your collar, sneak you a wand and get you to Vandal. From there you will travel by foot to Aberdeen and be reunited with your family. Malfoy’s take care of their own Ronald, you are part of our family,” He’d seen that same smile on his own mother before. It was funny, all mums could make the same face no matter how different they really were, “Okay Ron?”

Ron nodded.


The plan was easier said than done. After dinner, Draco would be expected to attend to some business regarding the ambush. Then Narcissa and Lucius would take Scorpius and feed him a light sleeping potion while Ron is taken to a guest room to be locked away until the morning. There Mort will appear and remove the collar before opening the tunnel in the baths Ron would use to escape to the gardens. Next, he will break into the Malfoy crypt with the help of Mort and steal the wand of Abraxas Malfoy before coming back to the main house of the manor and “kidnapping” Scorpius. He’d then be taken off the property by Vandal and they would escape to Aberdeen. Even with having to go through all that later, the hardest part had to be acting naturally around Draco for the rest of the day.

“Ron, are you alright? You’re acting strange?” Draco felt his forehead tenderly, “Do you need to go take a nap?”

“NO! I mean-” Ron coughed, “I’m fine. Just nervous know, it all,” he tried to laugh a little but it came out as little more than weak huffs of air. He looked around the garden noticing the irises in full bloom and frowned a little. All his years at this wretched place but the gardens were always so beautiful. It was his serenity amongst utter chaos. The one good foundation on his tower or terror.

“Ma! Mama!” Scorpius cooed as his chubby hand grabbed hold of the pendant on Ron’s collar. Ron smiled as he looked down to his lap, he expected the child to have fallen asleep by then. The boy was dressed in multiple layers, May wasn’t exactly the warmest month in England after all. Everything from his tiny booties to his wool hat was a classic Slytherin green with silver accents and made him look like a green marshmallow.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Picking him up, the red-head helped the infant stand, “Do you have something to tell me?” He knew Scorpius wouldn’t be saying more than mama for a while but it was always fun to pretend he could.

“Scorpius,” Draco smiled as he leaned closer, “Can you say dada? Or papa? Come on dada,” the blonde held out the long vowel sounds as he tried to get his son to copy him. The child looked at him, lips opened slightly before pushing his face into Ron’s chest.

“Doesn’t look like he’ll say it today,” or ever. Ron smiled a little at the thought. Scorpius would grow up without Draco, without seeing abuse and with Ron’s family all around him. He’d be happy, they’d be happy. Ron flinched when a kiss was pressed to his cheek, he still wasn’t used to weird amounts of affection Draco was showing him recently. He had no reason to make his last days as comfortable as they had been, especially since he made the decision to throw him away.

Softly, Draco poked Scorpius and busted out a wide grin as the child turned to look at him, “Hello Scorpius. Can you say hi? Come on hi, say hi,” Draco cooed waving at the child. Blue-grey eyes blinked slowly before one of his tiny pale hands came up and waved back, “He’s waving! Ron, he’s waving at me look at him go!” Waving probably wasn’t as big a milestone as say walking or calling you mama or dada, but he’d take it.

But just like, that his family moment was shattered.

“Good afternoon!” All three of them turned to see the newcomer, the May chill turning even colder with her presence. Pansy Parkinson, uninvited, was in his garden. Joy.

“What do you need Pansy?” Draco stood up and walked to meet her only for the woman to walk past him and directly up to Ron. Her green eyes stared him down as she outstretched her arms.

“May I hold him?” Her smile was as fake as Draco’s returned feelings for her during their fourth year. His husband’s grip on Scorpius tightened as he shook his head. The small building smile on his face was squashed immediately as Pansy veered, fire in her eyes but a tight smile still adorned her lips, “Drackie,” he almost gagged at the unapproved nickname, “May I hold your son?”

“If Ron-” Draco stopped, an idea popping into his head, “Of course you can. Ron, please let Pansy hold Scorpius.” Guilt bit at him as the redhead deflated and Pansy smirk, but it was going to be worth the laugh. As soon as Scorpius left Ron’s hands and was turned around to see Pansy’s face, the infant screamed. His bootie covered feet kicked out, hitting her in her ribs as tears streamed down his face. He twisted violently trying to get away from her all the while try to pull her long hair from her scalp.

“MAMA! MAMA!” At his cries, Ron jumped up and took him ever so gently from Pansy’s hands. Her hands went to check her ribs and her now tender head which almost made Draco lose his composure.

“I’m so sorry Pansy. He never does that,” Draco smiled softly as he went back to take his seat beside his family. Looking at the child again and seeing Ron frowning while calming him down, he another wave of guilt hit him.

“Well, it’s fine. He’ll get used to me eventually, right?” Draco clenched his jaw as he nodded stiffly. No way in hell was Scorpius ever going to get used to her. He wouldn’t have the chance.

Draco had taken his father’s words to heart. He already had bags packed and an escape route planned, all he had to do was break out both Ron and Scorpius during the meeting. It would be easy, the hardest part, however, would be convincing his parents to give him Scorpius as they watched over him. But it would work out, he had faith.

From there, they’d escape to France through the muggle world. He had done some research. All he needed was muggle money and to make a few fake documents. It’d be easy enough to fake it all once they were away and then they’d escape on the underground train called the Eurostar. Sure there were a lot of what ifs and plenty of ways his plan could go sideways but it was better than sending Ron to his death, having to remarry Parkinson, and raising a son that would resent him for the rest of his natural life.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you three to enjoy your last moments as a family,” her sweet voice dripped with blatant venom, her anger barely contained.

Draco gave her that same tight-lipped smile she had given Ron moments before, “Of course. Bye Pansy,” his hand found its way to Ron’s thigh as he gentle petted it.

“What is wrong with you?” Ron’s voice was lingering on the edge of anger, “All for a joke you made Scorpius cry like that. You knew he was going to cry like that.” Before it was waves and pinpricks of guilt, now it was a direct stab to his heart. Having your childishness pointed out like that was not exactly fun.

“I’m sorry. I was being a fool,” he pressed a kiss to Scorpius’ head. Seeing the infant’s state only caused the vines of regret to cling closer to his throat. Unshed tears still filled his eyes as his body racked with tremors and hiccups. His face was half buried in Ron’s chest as he sniffed deeply. Running his index finger down one cherub cheek, he sighed, “I’m sorry to you too little one. Papa was mean to you,” he smiled softly when his finger was caught in Scorpius’ grasp.


“It is time,” the feeling was hard to put in words. His entire stomach dropped, the food he had just eaten threatened to come back up as he saw one of the Snatchers come beside Ron’s chair. A small sniffle could be heard as his husband handed Scorpius over to his mother, one kiss left on the child’s head.

“Goodbye Scorpius, I love you.” His voice quiet as if anything louder would set the child off. Big hands grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him out from the dining room. Draco sighed as he stood up. It was time to get it all over with. Not even bothering to look at his parents he walked out of the dining room and to the sitting room he’d be conducting his meeting in. Moving through the halls, it wasn’t long before the rapid clicking of heels caught up to him.

“Good evening, Draco. Or should I start calling you dear now,” Pansy giggled as she entangled their arms. Resisting the urge to shake her off he smiled politely at her and let out a half-hearted chuckle, “You know,” she started as she rubbed his arm with her free hand, “I actually believed you really loved that blood traitor. You and Weasley! Ha! Even going through that wedding was hilarious. But now we don’t have to worry about him anymore, do we. Tomorrow as we defeat Potter once and for all, one missed spell will take care of the weasel too.”

Before he could stop himself, Draco swung around and pressed Pansy into the wall, his wand at her neck and a curse formulating on his lips. In the back of his mind, he already knew, he knew she planned on hurting Ron. He knew that Ron wasn’t to make it out alive, but hearing her say it. To his face with such glee.

“D-Draco w-what are you doing.” Her eyes swung around like a clock’s pendulum, searching for help from the position she was in.

Stupefy ,” Draco muttered before catching her in his arms, “Lynd I require your assistance,” he said quietly as he rounded the corner. In a crackle and flare of magic, the house elf appeared.

“Yes, Young Master Malfoy?” The elf’s eyes widened as he saw the situation is he brought to.

“Please hide Pansy in a closet and tell all the House Elves to gather in the garden. You are all about to be set free,” he said pulling off his tie, “You’re not being sacked for good but, I need you all to leave until I come back,” Draco handed the tie to the elf as he laid Pansy on the floor.

“Where are you going, Young Master?” Lynd asked as he tied the tie around his midsection and a white light enveloped Pansy before making her disappear. Big blue-grey eyes landed on him in concern.

“Ron, Scorpius, and I are going on a long trip. One day we will be back but until then you are all free to leave, just make sure you are all in the garden,” Draco explained before he started running to the side staircase. He didn’t care particularly for the elve’s freedom, but it would cripple the Death Eaters greatly if they had to find a new base since the Malfoy Manor would become “inhospitable” without the help.

Running to the one room he’d never been in, Draco pointed his wand at the door, “ Bombarda !” He yelled causing the door to his parent’s room to explode in an array of wooden splinters and metal bits.

“Draco!” His eyes landed on Scorpius. The infant was somehow still asleep despite the eruption but that didn’t matter.

“Draco what is the mean of this!” His father yelled getting in front of his wife and grandson.

“I’m proving I’m nothing like you,” Draco hissed, “Give me my son,” he walked towards his parents. Surprisingly, he was handed the child without any resistance.

“Ron should be in the crypt with Mort by now. If you want to meet with him, get there as soon as possible,” his mother said with a small smile. Draco nodded, preparing to apparate, child in hand, “Draco,” he looked up, “Keep them safe and get back to us when it’s all over.”

“I promise.” Picturing the cold stone crypt in his mind he held on to Scorpius tightly as they apparated. He hated hit, the feeling of being forced through a pipe and pulled from head to toe in different directions. Before he knew it he was in the crypt in front of the coffin of Abraxas Malfoy.

“It’s right through here, Wheezy” Draco turned around as grabbed the wand from its place on top of the coffin, “Y-Young Master!” Turning around he was face to face with Ron.

“Mort, go to the garden with all the other elves, now!” In a crackle, Mort vanished to where he was told. Draco walked forward holding out Scorpius, “Take him we don’t have much time before someone notices something is wrong.”


“Ronald we don’t have time for you to question me now! Just take Scorpius and hold on tight!” Nodding, the redhead grabbed the child before grabbing on to Draco’s arm. Apparating to their bedroom, Draco wasted no time in grabbing the two small packs from under the bed. Throwing them on top of the bed he pointed his hand at the door to their balcony over the garden and with a flick of his wand made it opened it wide.

He then opened up the wardrobe and began flinging shirts, trousers, waistcoats, anything, out into the garden. Clothing rained down on the house elves setting them all free.

“You’re setting them free? Draco what is going on?” Ron asked as he looked out to see many of the elves rejoicing. Draco, you’re scaring me what is-” Before he could do anything the bedroom door swung open practically tearing from the top hinge. He didn’t even need to turn around to know who was there.

“Vandal, what did I tell you about being in my house?” Draco said as he turned around slowly to face the werewolf. A hulking man Vandal was, covered in wiry brown hair and eyes as black as a dementor’s mouth.

“I’m taking Ron and the kid to Aberdeen. They didn’t say anything about you,” his gait was nothing like a wolf. It was smoother, much more menacing, like a panther that didn’t care if you already saw it stalking you. One that confidently trotted right up to claw your face off.

“I’ll be the one taking my family to safety, I suggest you run back into whatever hole you crept out of and stay there,” Vandal wasn’t a wizard, Draco knew that much. A muggle child who was changed by Greyback himself.

“Well, let him choose,” Vandal said gesturing towards Ron with one gritty finger, “Do you wanna go with the sack of shit who gave you up or me. I can take care of you Ron, take you to your family. I won’t hurt you or the kid.” Draco turned his head for a moment to look at his husband. White teeth cut into his lips as his brow creased.

“Ron are you-” Draco cut off at the sound of the werewolf’s deep cackle, “Ron!”

“What! I- I just-” Ron stuttered, “I chose you. I chose you, okay so can we get out of here?” Draco let out a sigh of relief as Vandal snarled.

“It’s been fun Vandal,” Draco said pointing his wand right at the man, “But you have to go, Avada Kedavra .” A flick of the wrist followed by a flash of green and Vandal was on the ground.

“Draco, you killed him!” Ron rushed forward but was caught in Draco’s arms before he could reach the body.

“I’ll grab the bags but  we have to go now Ron.” Moving quickly he grabbed one off the bed and held the other out to Ron, “Come on once we get off the property we can move somewhere else,” Draco rushed to the door before turning around. Ron stood there with his eyes closed tight, “Ron what are you doing?!”

“I know where to go! I’m picturing it so we can apparate there,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Ron we can’t-”

“NO! We have to try!”

“Did you even get a license to apparate?" No answer, "Ron!”

“JUST SHUT UP AND HOLD ON!” Draco sighed as he wrapped his arms around his the screaming man and before he knew it they were apparating.

Chapter Text

The first thing Draco noted was the smell of the sea. Salty air and earthy sand invaded his nose as the ground shifted as he stabilized himself. Feeling no pain hearing no cries from Ron, he was glad neither of them had an accident. What he was looking at wasn’t much, a small cottage on the beach with shell accents all around the outside with large beds of sea lavender growing. It was quaint.

“Ron,” he said turning to his smiling husband, “Where are we?”

“This is Bill and Fleur's house,” he said walking towards the door. Knocking a few times Ron sighed when no one answered.

“Okay, but where is this,” his arms extended to motion to the beach as a whole. The redhead shifted their child in his arms as he avoided eye contact with him. Draco sighed, “I won’t be mad Ron. Just tell me where we are, please.”

“Tinworth,” he whispered as he tried to open the door.

“Tinworth,” Draco repeated to himself, “And where is Tinworth?”


“What was that?”

“Cornwall. We’re in Cornwall!” Ron yelped as Draco groaned in frustration.

“This is why I didn’t want us to apparate! We needed to stay in London,” Draco looked out to the ocean. London was probably less than a week’s walk from Cornwall and then from there, he could work on the documents. Or they could conceal themselves and try and stow away on the train.

“Why do we need to go to London? They said my family is in Aberdeen,” Ron’s voice came out shakily as he started patting the outside of the home. His hands skimmed the shells until he found one that was barely protruding from the wall. Pulling on it he twisted the shell causing the door to open.

“We can talk about it later. Let’s rest first,” Draco said walking to the door. As Ron tried to cross the threshold, the blond put an arm across to stop him. He slowly stepped forward like a pup leaving the den for the first time. From what he remembered Bill Weasley was a curse breaker which probably meant he knew how to cast some too. The last thing he wanted was for any of them to get hurt.

As he entered the home, he took note of the fine layer of dust and the fireplace full of coals. There was an array of blankets and quilts on all over the sitting room they were in, a group of people had stayed here up until recently. Turning back he beckoned Ron inside.

“It looks your family was here, probably a few weeks ago. Hopefully, they left some food that hasn’t gone off,” he said making his way to the kitchen. The kitchen reminded him of his mother’s solarium with its glass panels but it was much less regal. It had a homey feeling he was not used to, cramped in a way that he couldn’t find comfortable.

He noticed a few containers scattered across the countertops. Opening the biggest one he found only flour. Picking up a smaller container he inspected it to find the other side engraved with the word yeast. Looking back at the bigger one he noticed it was engraved with its contents as well. That was great and all, but he didn’t know how to cook anything that wasn’t a potion.

“Ron, where did Fleur keep her recipes?” He asked as he opened a drawer to find utensils. When he got no response he turned around, “Ron?” Again he was met with silence. Walking slowly into the sitting room, he was met with the bag Ron had on the floor and the door wide open.

His legs moved before his mind could think to as he ran out the door. Ron didn’t have the energy to apparate again, and Draco had both of the wands so if he ran for it he couldn’t have gotten far. As soon as he exited the house he stopped running as Ron was in view standing at the top of a sandy hill. He was looking down at something while clutching Scorpius to his chest.

His red hair reflected with the same vibrancy of the setting sun as he stood there. His hair whipped around his face as the sea breeze blew. Trudging up the hill, Draco walked next to Ron and looked down at the stone and his heart clenched.

Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf

“Is it weird I think about him every day? I never really cared for Hermione’s S.P.E.W stuff but…” Ron’s voice trailed off. Draco nodded not knowing what else to do. He felt like a child at a funeral, not quite understanding why everyone was so upset about whoever was gone. Dobby was like any other elf, a servant. When he called on Dobby the summer after second year and another elf appeared to tell him the one he called was gone he thought nothing of it and gave his command to the one that was there.

When Dobby had apparated them away years ago, he thought nothing of it. He was much more focused on having his wand stolen and the fact that Voldemort was going to come and see no Potter waiting in the dungeon.

He put his hand on the small of Ron’s back and started guiding him back to the house. As they walked there Scorpius opened his eyes slowly and cooed. Draco smiled as Ron relaxed under his hand.

“Hello little one, how’d you sleep through all of that?” He chuckled as he got babble in return.

“Sleeping draught, a diluted one. Just to keep him from crying while we ran,” Ron said to him as they walked into the house. A chill went down Draco’s spine as he remembered that day. At least this time he fixed his mistake and put the child to sleep. Ron turned to him and held out the babe causing both blondes to stiffen, “I’m going to make something. You need to hold Scorpius for me to do that. Um go look around as well, see if there’s anything left around here.”

Without waiting, the redhead all but dumped their child into Draco’s arms. Immediately, Scorpius began to fuss. No crying, but he kicked out and tried to bang his fist against Draco in an effort to be returned to his other parent or at least put down. Adjusting the child so he faced forward and frankly was being held more like a cat that a baby, Draco sighed as Scorpius calmed down and took to looking around at his new surroundings.

Walking through the house, felt strange. It was surprisingly intimate. The house wasn’t some abandoned relic like that one house he had been to in Godric’s Hollow. It was well lived in, with blankets and a few articles of clothing here and there. His eyes were drawn to the pictures on the walls. One had a woman he recognised as Fleur and Bill Weasley hugging and smiling so brightly. It was their wedding day. They both looked so happy. On their own wedding day, Ron looked ready to cry and there had been no pictures whatsoever. While Fleur twirled around in her white gown as white and gold decorations shimmered around her. The colours at his wedding had been green and silver.

When it was all over, maybe they could have a do-over. A wedding with the Weasley’s present, cameras taking pictures, and Ron smiling bigger than Fleur ever could.

Walking into one of the bedrooms he only found more quilts and blankets. No clues, no food. Going back down he opened his mouth to yell about not finding anything of use just to close it as a savoury scent hit his nose. Walking into the kitchen he spotted Ron over the stove cooking something.

The jumper he was wearing was not over the back of a chair in favour of an apron. The thin shirt showed the definition of his shoulder blades as he tossed around the food he was making. It was very domestic. Maybe in a different life, he could’ve been the husband returning from his very average but well-paying job at the Ministry and Ron could’ve been his doting house husband waiting for him at home with their darling son and a hot meal.

“Mama!” Scorpius yelled announcing their presence and ruining the small illusion Draco had. Ron looked over his shoulder to stick his tongue out which caused Scorpius to squeal before doing the same thing. A laugh came out of Draco’s mouth, not that he cared to stop it, at the pair’s antics.

“Now I know where he gets his spunk from. Next thing he’ll be sassing me with real words when I tell him to go to bed,” Draco joked before securing the child more safely. He then walked up next to Ron and looked in the pan to see a pan of vegetable hash.

“I couldn’t find any meat that hadn’t gone off, but the indoor garden has a self-watering charm on it so it was still going strong. Same with the mushroom culture,” as if he could read his mind, Draco wouldn’t be surprised if he could by know, Ron said, “you didn’t check that part of the house.” He gestured to the room past the kitchen. Looking through the doorway, sure enough, there was an abundance of potted plants and garden boxes with fruits and vegetables ready for picking. Seeing a small drawer, he had no doubt the mushroom culture was in there.

“Well, at least we won’t have to go into our reserves while we’re here, right?” He said as he put Scorpius down in the high chair at the table. Thinking about it now there had been an abundance of baby items in the house. He saw a package of diapers and a crib while upstairs, a few toys lying around, and baby bottles next to the sink.

“Ron was Fleur pregnant?”

“She had a kid a few years back, at the end of the war. Might’ve had another by now if all this stuff is anything to go by. Can’t wait to see them,” Ron said with a sad smile. Draco swallowed hard remembering their difference in plans.

He tickled the baby on his chest while Ron plated their food and found cups. The table was small, and he could feel Ron’s long legs brush against his, but it was nice. He the intimacy. Only the sounds of cutlery scraping against plates and the occasional noise from Scorpius as he was fed small bits of potato could be heard as Draco contemplated his next move.

“Are you done or do you need to stare into that plate for divination purposes?” Ron asked as his hand landed next to the now empty plate. The Malfoy heir shook his head and handed it off to his husband.

As he watched Ron was the plates he noticed two things. First, he still had both wands in his coat pocket which was why Ron was cleaning by hand, but also that they could easily stay where they were. The secret keeper of the house was probably Bill himself, someone loyal to the Order, or someone dead. Worst case scenario and they had to hide out there until they got confirmation that Voldemort of Potter was dead. Best case, the Order came back and they went with them.

They had no reason to risk a trek all the way to Aberdeen or try and escape to England through the muggle world.



They both stopped short waiting for the other to finish.

“You first,” Draco insisted as he picked up some greens from Scorpius’ plate and tried to feed them to the stubborn child.

“How long are we staying here? My family could move any day and I don’t want to miss them if they are in Aberdeen,” Ron said.

Draco sighed, “Ron, we should stay put. We’re safe here. There’s food growing, I can learn to fish. I have some muggle money, we can buy something if we truly need it. Maybe I can learn something, or do labour. I don’t know. But we should just stay here,” Ron looked about ready to cry when Draco finished, “Ron I know you want to see your family again. You will, I swear on my magic you’ll see them again. But right now it’s too dangerous to go anywhere.”

“Draco we have to go!” Ron yelled. Tears shone in his eyes as he argued back, “We can’t stay here. We know where they are, I know they’re there. We have to go!”

“Ron we can’t afford that! We’re in Cornwall for crying out loud. We’d have to walk through all of Muggle England and Scotland to get there! It’s too dangerous now. Don’t you know they’ll be looking for us! I betrayed You-Know-Who!”

“We can apparate! I know somewhere in Muggle London we can go to. From there we can walk or take muggle transport. You have muggle money and we can transfigure ourselves before exchanging some galleons or something. Draco we can’t stay here.”

“Why can’t we? We’ll be safest-”

“I’m pregnant!”

Draco’s world stopped. The only sound he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears as the words bounced around in his mind. Pregnant. A second baby. They were going to have another child.

“When did-”

“When do you think?” Ron said sharply. The blond shrank away at the memory of what he did after finding Ron and Vandal together. He hadn’t used any contraception spells like the times before, “Mixie confirmed it for me after she found me throwing up for the third day in a row. I should almost be a month along.”

Before Ron could continue Draco rushed forward and caged him in his arms. His nose pressed into the redhead’s neck as he took a deep shuddering breath. Not that he could help it, but his next words came out broken, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You literally gave me up only days before that. Telling you wouldn’t change anything, you already had your heir and Parkinson could’ve given you all the extra kids you wanted.” Deciding he didn’t like being left out of whatever was happening Scorpius chose then to start fussing so someone would let him down from the blasted high chair he’d been placed in.

“Draco we can’t do this alone. What if this time I-” Ron choked up as they were both forced to relive his near-death experience, “We need to find them. They’ll have a healer. We’ll be okay if we find them first.”

“Fine. We rest for a few days, stock up on what we can find, and then we leave.”