Beautiful, the Dark Heir (bdh15)

Chapter Fifteen

Fic Adopted from Bittersweet Alias

An Admission or Acknowledgement: A formal admission of one’s sins with repentance and desire for absolution

Confession

Andromeda Tonks felt her stomach turn to lead as she read the headlines in the latest copies of the Daily Prophet.  “William Weasley Sentenced to Four Years in Azkaban for Molesting Boy-Who-Lived.”  Her heart dropped.  Bill Weasley had molested Harry Potter – the wizard who had saved them all as a baby?  She couldn’t believe it; her mind froze as she stared out toward Florean Fortescue’s across the way.  Something must be wrong, she thought, trying to force herself to believe it.  Unfortunately, her mind just kept going back to the three wizards at Starbucks.  Her heart sank.

Turning her eyes back to the paper, she forced her eyes to focus.  “Montagues and Malfoys protect their own: Hadrian Potter-Black to Return to Hogwarts after Removed for Safety.”

Potter.  Potter-Black.  Her eyes widened almost comically, but no one was looking.  Potter-Black.  Could it be?  Was that boy, that Black, Harry Potter?  She could feel her stomach drop.

“Potter-Black and Montague Hide from Public,” another one read.  Little Harry was with a Montague then?  Weren’t they dark?  “Caelius Montague Asks for Public to Give his Son-in-law ‘Space to Heal.'”  Oh, no, she mentally wailed.  Oh, bloody hell no!

And they just kept getting worse: “Weasleys Resign from Ministry of Magic in Face of Public Outrage,” one read and her eyes darkened.  She hastily flipped through several more issues.  “Dumbledore stripped from Wizengamot position.”  “Headmaster facing Inquiries at Hogwarts and International Confederation of Wizards.”  And, finally, “Draco Malfoy Defends his Cousin and Gives Full Support to England’s Dream Couple.”

How could this possibly have happened in a few short weeks?  How could her world have changed so precipitously?

She gulped again before forcing herself to regain her emotional center.

That was it then, she decided.

With determination, she squared her shoulders.  Although she wasn’t an official member of The Order of the Phoenix, her daughter was, and she knew there was a scheduled meeting as she had seen the owl waiting for her daughter, who was probably on some Auror mission.  She even knew where Headquarters was located, had been keyed into the wards in case of an emergency.

That settled it then.  Something must have gone horribly wrong, and she’d be damned if she didn’t get to the bottom of it.

A niggling voice at the back of her mind told her that at least some of what the Daily Prophet reported must be true, but she silently resolved never to listen to voices pretending to be reason, a resolve that unfortunately broke only a few hours later. 

(o)

Sirius sighed, looking into his hands contemplatively as Remus’s hands ran through his hair.  Copies of the Prophet littered the table in the Black family library where they were awaiting their guests.  Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was still virtually uninhabitable.  Kreacher was useless, although their personal house-elf at Riddle Cottage popped in every afternoon to slowly make a dent in the place. 

Sirius knew it could take up to a year to have the stack of bricks become livable again.  He wanted to completely redo the wallpaper and furnishings, and was hoping to give it to Harry as a gift when his child was born.  He and Micah deserved their own place, and Grimmauld Place was heavily guarded. 

Staying at the Cottage was impractical now that they were bonded and about to start a family.  He knew that, however much a part of him wished Harry could remain a child just a little longer.

“We have an Order meeting in half an hour,” Remus quietly reminded him and Sirius let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding before growling. “It has to be done,” Remus reminded him.

“Weasley,” Sirius muttered, his eyes dead and hands clenched into fists.

“—is in Azkaban.”

“Should be given the kiss,” Sirius corrected before grinding his teeth together.

“You-Know-Who will probably see to it,” Remus said as he rubbed Sirius’s shoulder with his other hand.  “He can’t bear for anything to happen to his Heir.”

A half-smile flickered across Sirius’s face.  “He is rather protective, isn’t he?”

Remus continued to rake his fingers through Sirius’s long hair.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he loved Hadrian.”

“Good.  Hadrian deserves all the love he can get in this world.  He’s been without it for too long.”  His eyes narrowed again.  “I’m going to give Arthur a piece of my mind.”

“Shh,” Remus soothed, bending down to kiss Sirius softly on the lips.  “Everything’s all right now.  Hadrian is safe with his husband.  Micah saw what we did not and did something about it.”  He quirked an eyebrow.  “Of course, he meant to threaten Weasley and it blew up in his face with Hermione putting the pieces together.  Who knew her self-righteous act would actually be useful for once.”

A bark like laugh resounded throughout the room and Sirius relaxed. “Order baiting?” he asked cockily.

Remus could only smile, glad beyond measure that his mate’s sense of fun hadn’t been destroyed in Azkaban.

(o)

Dumbledore swept into the room, trying to look majestic in his canary yellow and bright purple robes, his blue eyes held a false sheen that many could mistake as a twinkle if they didn’t look close enough.  His face was worn and bore a grim expression, as he sat down and surveyed the room.

Arthur and Molly were sitting by themselves in a corner, their own visages grey in worry. 

Sirius was glaring fiercely at them, while Remus pointedly looked anywhere but at the couple that might have been his friends in another life.

Severus was missing, teaching of course, as well as Nymphadora Tonks, Dumbledore noted absently.  He knew that she was undercover on some mission for the Ministry and wasn’t due to check in for another week at the least.  He’d sent her an owl anyway, just in case, but it appeared that she hadn’t returned as of yet.

His gaze settled on Harry’s guardians and Remus looked at him with little emotion.  “If you called this meeting, Albus, to inquire about Harry, surely you must know that he and Micah and Draco caught the Hogwarts Express a few hours ago.”

The Headmaster sighed.  “Why did it have to get this far?” he asked sadly.

Sirius’s head shot up.  “Why did it get this far?” he repeated, outraged, grey eyes glowing menacingly.  “I should ask you that, Albus.  How could you let such a thing happen under your nose?”

“Bill’s innocent,” Molly said, her voice wavering.  “There must be some mistake.  He would never. . . .”

“He did,” Remus said, his hand pressing down on Sirius’s forearm to silently tell him to let him handle it.  He could keep his cool and scare the fuck out of people when he needed to.  He was after all a powerful alpha werewolf, now that he had stopped fighting his transformation.

“It’s a lie.  Bill would never do that to Ginny.  Harry’s confused.”  Molly pressed herself closer to Arthur, her lips visibly shaken.  He, however, remained silent and seemed to be within some sort of disinterested trance.

“Your own son admitted it and signed a magical statement in his blood.  He made sexual advances on a minor and continued them when he was made a Professor,” Remus said quietly, his body filled with tension.  “I would never have done such a thing.  It’s disgusting—even if Harry had wanted it.”

“He was with Fleur.  Why would he want Harry?” Arthur murmured to himself, although everyone heard.

Sirius scoffed.  “Hadrian is famous, powerful, and beautiful.  Fleur was only a part-Veela with an allure.”

Molly looked pleadingly at the Headmaster.  “Why couldn’t this have been handled quietly?  Why couldn’t Bill have been dismissed without fuss and then none of this would have happened!”

Dumbledore sighed.  “Unfortunately, Mr. Montague made a public accusation at the beginning of class.  Over twenty students heard it.  It couldn’t be contained.”

Remus’s amber eyes glinted.  “Micah did nothing of the kind.  Get your facts straight, Dumbledore.  Micah walked Hadrian to class and then when Weasley said Micah had no business being there since he wasn’t a fifth-year, Micah told Bill that his husband was.  Hermione Granger put together the pieces and created a public spectacle.  Had we been aware of the situation, Hadrian’s privacy would have come first and this never would have reached the Prophet, although we would have prosecuted him under the provisions of Witness Protection, Molly.”

Molly swallowed.

“Did you really have to fight it so publicly?” Dumbledore accused.  “My reputation is damaged.  Our entire side of the war has been weakened –”

“With all due respect,” Sirius hissed, “I could care less about your reputation.  You’re the one who hired Weasley; you’re the one who permitted it to happen in your school.  Your own pet is the one who created the mess.  Blame her, not us.  And I would never stop Lucius Malfoy when he’s on a rampage, especially when he’s acting in the defense of my godson.”

Emmeline Vance shot him a dark look.  “I can’t believe you’re letting the Boy-Who-Lived associate with such people.”

“Hadrian is not the Boy-Who-Lived.  He’s a person, not your fucking mascot.”  Sirius glared at her.  “Narcissa has publicly acknowledged him as a Black and to purebloods, blood connections are everything.  Lucius Malfoy was within his rights, and I am glad he championed Hadrian as I could not.”  He turned his glare on the Headmaster.  “Is there any purpose to this meeting other than trying to assign blame when it is only yours and Weasleys’?”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes darkened.

“I thought not.  This is a waste of time.  If you want someone to blame, look in the mirror.”  He quickly got to his feet and pulled Remus after him.  “Thanks for asking after your precious savior, by the way.  He’s doing well, all things considered.”  Sirius turned and marched out of the room, noticing for the first time that Andromeda had sneaked into the room and had been staring wide eyed at everyone around the table.  He nodded to his cousin briefly before Apparating back to Voldemort’s manor.

(o)

Hogwarts seemed different to Harry as he descended from a Thestral-drawn carriage.  It looked the same – still hummed with magic, as if it was sentient – but something had changed. 

The trio made their way to the Prefect Common Room, Micah and Draco not wanting to subject Harry to the scrutiny he would receive if they went to dinner in the Great Hall.  Voldemort had ensured that his house-elves packed all of Harry’s favorite foods in a large basket that Micah had shrunk and was carrying in his pocket.  They had enough food to probably last them two days.

The common room was deserted except for a lone figure sitting before an elaborate spread.  Maeve quickly stood and smiled.  “I thought you might not want to eat in the Great Hall,” she said.  “The house-elves made a feast for you on my request.”

Draco smiled at her, eyes sparkling with pleasure.  “Thank you, Maeve.  Would you join us?”

She blushed. “I don’t want to intrude –”

“It’s no intrusion,” Harry said, knowing that his cousin had talked of little else on the entire journey back to Scotland.  “And we couldn’t possibly eat all of this by ourselves.”

“Did you get my letters?” Draco asked a bit anxiously as he took a seat next to Maeve. 

Micah sat opposite them, pulling Harry gently down next to him, before making up a plate for him. He glared when Harry tried to protest at the amount of food. “Eat it all,” he ordered, pointing at the plate. “For Morpheus.”

Harry sighed.  There was no winning when Micah was determined that both he and the baby got enough food.  All he could do was poke out his tongue playfully and wait to tackle Micah later that night when they were alone.  He smirked, a plan slowly forming in his mind.  Micah wouldn’t know what hit him.

(o)

Micah lay on his back, his eyes sliding closed as he waited for his mate to come out of the shower.  His thoughts drifted over his new husband.  He knew Harry never wanted his past – relationship, if you could call it that – with Bill to come out.  Harry was an intensely private person.  He hated it when someone like the fucking Mudblood wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was doing, why he was even fucking breathing.

Over the past few years, he had noticed Harry, of course.  How could he not?  When Harry came in as a first-year, his eyes wide with wonder, Micah had noticed how unbearably small he was.  Within a few months, he had blood traitors and Mudbloods hanging off him like he was a fucking idol, something they wanted to know every little thing about.  And as the years progressed, they just got more controlling.

Harry seemed to keep everything locked up within his head, all his secret plans, his thoughts, his wants, his desires.  Fuck, but Micah hadn’t even known that he really wanted Harry until Harry had asked Micah to take him just before Winter break. 

Part of Micah had thought Harry viewed him as some sort of plaything of his own, teasing him and driving him wild, just to see how far he could push Micah.  He had been fucking determined to win, of course; Harry had been too mouthwatering to just leave for someone else to fuck. . . .

He growled.  Micah hated the thought of anyone running their disgusting, impure hands over his mate – had despised the very idea when he realized that Harry was hiding his true self after Micah came across the Dark Arts book.  Harry had been his – and only his – since that moment, and Micah would have ripped anyone to shreds if they had dared to touch him.

The shower turned off and steam rolled out into the bedroom, but Micah didn’t notice, so lost in horrifying thoughts of what could have happened if . . . Fuck, there were so many goddamn ifs!

“Romeo,” a soft voice, innocent and distant, entered his thoughts, teasing him, calling out to him. Micah firmly shut his eyes so that he could just bask in the fantasy his mind was now conjuring for him.

Phantom touches slid across his face, mapping his features delicately.  A finger traced the line of his eyebrow, before meandering down his eyelid and over to his nose.  A second hand joined it as it skimmed his cheekbone, burying itself briefly in his hair, before soft lips pressed against his.  “I hope our baby has your hair,” Harry sighed.

“Hadrian,” Micah breathed as the mouth left his, before he greedily pulled it back down again, groaning as he wrapped an arm around a thin waist, forcing his husband’s erection against his own.

Harry gasped in pleasure at the sensation, grinding down teasingly.  Micah’s firm hands raked down Harry’s back, pulling at the towel that encased his delicious arse.  Harry’s hands tangled in his lover’s hair, tilting Micah’s face upward so he could fully devour the mouth that was open to him.  He swiped his tongue against sharp teeth, causing Micah to shiver, before Harry plunged it deeper, moaning as it tangled with Micah’s.

Cool hands ran down his bottom to his thighs, pulling his legs up until Harry was partially straddling Micah.

“Not yet,” Harry gasped as he felt Micah’s fingers at his entrance.  Micah growled in frustration, but soon arched upward as Harry’s teeth scraped down his neck to his collarbone, the cold platinum of his bonding band gliding past his shoulder and down his arm, until fingers intertwined with his.  “Stay,” Harry commanded, when Micah tried to pull him back up.

Fingernails grazed Micah’s bare chest as Harry continued to slide downward, his teeth never leaving Micah’s skin.  Micah’s gold eyes widened as pain mixed with pleasure until he felt Harry’s hands move to the waistband of his pajama bottoms, small fingers leaving bruises as they pressed against his hips.

“Stay,” Harry reiterated as Micah thrust upwards, his hardened arousal seeking any contact with his husband, who was teasing him mercilessly.

Jade eyes met fierce gold and Harry couldn’t help but smirk.  He loved teasing his mate.  Never moving his gaze from Micah’s, Harry slid down his mate’s sleeping pants tantalizingly slowly and revealed the tanned skin beneath. 

“Minx,” Micah half-accused, his voice filled with desire.

Harry sniggered.  “Admit it, you like me that way.” His tongue swiped across his husband’s hipbone and Micah arched upward again, groaning softly. Harry smirked slightly before moving his lips downward, nuzzling the smooth skin beneath him. He looked up, all innocence.  “Admit it.”

Micah opened his eyes and gazed down at his mate.  Harry’s hands still dug into Micah’s hips, his face hovering just above Micah’s erection, looking up to him expectantly under damp hair.  Micah didn’t think he had seen a more arousing sight in his entire life.

“What?” he asked, his lust-filled brain having forgotten what he was supposed to admit.

“I thought so,” Harry preened before sliding down further.  He ground his hips into the mattress to stay his own erection, and then took Micah’s into his mouth. 

Oh yes, he thought as Micah panted above him, eyes shut in ecstasy.  Within minutes, Harry had Micah calling out his name. Large hands clasped his dark hair in ecstasy as he swallowed his husband’s pleasure.

“Perfect,” Micah groaned as his now flaccid cock slipped out of Harry’s grinning mouth.  “You’re so fucking perfect.”  He tugged gently on Harry’s hair, pulling him up until Harry’s erection was pressing insistently into his groin.  Micah kissed him hungrily, tasting himself on Harry’s sweet tongue, wondering what he’d ever done to deserve such perfection in his life.  “I love you,” he whispered against soft lips, causing Harry to moan wantonly in the back of his throat.

“That’s,” Harry gasped against Micah, “what – you – get.”  His mind struggled for coherence, but all he could process was that he wanted Micah sliding against him now and never wanted those lips to leave his body.

“Really?” Micah responded, a touch of joy in his voice as Harry began to impatiently rut against him.  He thrust his hips upward, giving Harry the traction he needed, and couldn’t hold back a smirk when Harry breathed in a whine.  “Well, then.”  He snaked his hand down between them and fisted Harry’s leaking erection. 

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, thrusting into the tight grasp, his hands clawing against Micah’s shoulders.  “Fuck, I wanna come.”

Micah smiled deviously, wanting his husband to come at just the sound of his voice.  “You’re so sexy,” he said huskily in Harry’s ear, delighting in the shiver that ran down his mate’s spine.  “So fucking hot.  Whenever I see you, I want to take you over a couch and let everyone watch so they know exactly what they’re missing.”

Harry arched his back, sweat forming at his temples as he strained against the hand that gently held him.

“So – so close.”  His voice strained and his eyes squeezed shut against the assault of feelings running through him.

“Open your eyes, Hadrian,” Micah commanded, his hand tightening imperceptibly.  “I want to see your eyes when you come for me.”

Jade eyes snapped open to meet gold ones, and Harry could see the lust, desire, and sheer possessiveness shining through them.  “Fuck, Micah.”

“Come –” he growled and, eyes wide open, Harry shouted out his pleasure as thick ropes of seed covered their bare chests.  He shuddered, his body sweeping with sensation after sensation, until he found himself encased in warm arms that held him close.

“Never leave me,” Harry whispered brokenly when the fog cleared from his mind.  “I don’t think I could survive if you ever left.”

Micah roughly pulled him up until Harry’s face was hovering above his own.  “I will never leave you,” he promised before crushing Harry to his chest.  “I’m not like those foul Gryffindors.”

Harry shivered at his words and couldn’t prevent a soft sob from escaping.  Micah just held him close, knowing that he probably needed this – whatever the fuck this was.

“H-he said,” Harry whispered, “that I was beautiful and special, and . . .”

Micah ran his hands through Harry’s hair, wishing he were better with words, wanting to express his emotions.  His face twisted into an ugly sneer.  How dare that fucking redhead do this to his mate?  “Hadrian,” he said, with a calmness that he did not feel at the moment, “you are beautiful and special.  You are my mate and the bearer of my child.  You’re the fucking Dark Lord’s Heir.”

Harry sniffed against him, burying his head further into Micah’s shoulder.

“Never doubt it.”

Harry sighed, shutting his eyes against the pain. “I –” he began, but cut himself off.

Micah just waited, his ears picking up every agonizing tick of the clock on the mantle.  Oddly enough, he hadn’t noticed it before.

“I was so alone,” Harry confessed.  “He said he’d always loved me, since the first time he saw me before the Quidditch World Cup.”

Micah closed his eyes in silence, willing back the savage emotions that warred in his chest.  How could someone prey upon another wizard like that?  Weasley had discovered Harry’s weaknesses and completely exploited them – had hurt Harry on a level even deeper than a physical plane. 

Micah repressed a growl that welled up in his throat.

Weasley did know, had to have done, and still did it anyway.  He caught Harry when he was at his lowest, when his friends and mentor had betrayed him, when he had probably just undergone the Blood Adoption and felt like a lost soul in a stranger’s body, and he had pounced.

No Slytherin would ever demean themselves or their honor in such a way..  

They could flatter and bribe and seduce, but Micah would never have stooped that low, and he didn’t know any pureblood who would, except a blood traitor.  This could destroy a wizard’s magical core if he wasn’t careful – thus making it sacred.

Micah exhaled.  “I will never betray you, Hadrian,” he vowed.  “The ring on your finger proves that.  Even if you were to go against the Dark Sect, I would fucking follow you to the goddamn ends of the earth.”  He breathed in deeply, waiting for a response, but none came.  “You and the baby are my life.  Purebloods,” he said the word to clearly exclude Weasley from the category, “always follow their families.  Until the end we stay true, through death often.”  He paused.  “Never doubt it.”

Harry laid still, tears leaking out of his eyes, but then he slowly lifted himself to find Micah’s possessive gaze boring into him, begging him to believe the words.

“Blood traitors are liars by nature,” Micah growled, wiping away the tears that marred Harry’s beautiful face.  “They lie to their magic, to their birth, to themselves.”

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Micah’s.  “Do you think I’m weak?” he asked in a quiet voice, glancing away as if he couldn’t bear to see the answer in Micah’s gaze.

“No,” Micah spat, his loathing of Weasley increasing tenfold with the question.  He threaded his hand into the hair at the base of Harry’s neck, and pulled his gaze back to him.  Kissing him harshly, he waited for Harry to relax and then plunged his tongue deeply into Harry’s mouth.  “Hadrian,” he moaned as he broke away; his gold eyes shone with such overwhelming emotion that Harry gulped instinctively.  “You could never be weak.  You survived where others would have lost themselves.”

Harry nodded, lowering himself back into Micah’s embrace and closing his eyes.  “Just hold me, Romeo,” he begged, wishing slumber would claim him.  “Just hold me tonight.”

Micah sighed into Harry’s hair, silently vowing that Harry would never be hurt again.