Beautiful, the Dark Heir (bdh16)

Chapter Sixteen

Fic Adopted from Bittersweet Alias

A State of Despair: The State of Complete Loss or Absence of Hope

Desperation

Days passed slowly, bleeding together.  Harry’s schedule had been altered so that he now took all of his classes with Slytherin.  He was sorry to only see Neville occasionally during the day, but was happy as he wasn’t seen Ron at all, who had been switched into Hufflepuff options whenever Slytherin and Gryffindor shared a subject.

Ron was livid.  At first he had been shocked when he put together that Bill had done something to Harry, but as soon as his eldest brother was thrown into prison and his father and older brother Percy had to quit their jobs in the Ministry – he knew that it was all Harry’s fault. 

What had his former best friend done?  Thrown himself at Bill?

He just knew that everything that had happened since the end of the Triwizard Tournament had been some kind of vendetta against him and Hermione.  So what if they siphoned off a bit of his money for his family and the Order.  It’s not like The Boy who Fucking Lived needed all that gold, now was it?

He and Ginny had put their lives at risk for him time and time again.  Didn’t they deserve a little something for their efforts?

And didn’t Harry want the war with He Who Must Not Be Named to be well done and over?  If money could do that, then he should be happy to volunteer, not go off in a bloody tiff, get blood adopted in a borderline dark ritual, seduce his brother, and then throw himself at the first Slytherin prat who would have him.

Harry James Potter, in the opinion of Ron Weasley, was a sodding prick.

It wasn’t enough that he was famous, the savior, the Boy Who Lived – he had to be infamous as well. 

Ginny wouldn’t stop crying since it all came out.  When Harry had gone off and married Montague, she had consoled herself with the thought that it was just a phase, that he would realize that she was the only person for him.  There was still hope. 

This, though, was too much of an obstacle.

On top of that, all of Ron’s classes had been changed, causing havoc with his life.  He rarely got to sit near Hermione and the entire school was treating him as if he were dirt, or worse than dirt.  A few Slytherins were even calling him a child molester.

Ron doubted at this point that he could ever find a girlfriend.  Not even a Muggle would probably have him once word got out.

He was skipping divination, not that he could attend anyway, and leaned up against the stone wall above a moving staircase.

He was pathetic, Ron realized.  He couldn’t go back to Gryffindor Tower for fear of eggs being chucked at him, so here he stood, watching a staircase.  If it weren’t so depressing, he might have laughed over it.

Back and forth.  Back and forth.

Fuck, life was boring.  He briefly wondered if anyone would hire him after Hogwarts with his name.  Maybe he would go abroad somewhere and change his name.  They’d need to speak English, though, he thought to himself.

New Zealand, maybe.  That sounded far enough away.

Voices echoed through the hall and Ron shrank further into the shadows.  “Hurry up!” a witch in Ravenclaw robes called behind her, her chocolate curls falling prettily around her face.

More footsteps resounded and a second student came into view, and Ron was shocked to see it was Malfoy.  “We’re coming,” he huffed with a smile, his hair slightly skewed.  “It’s not like we’re not already late,” he added.

The Ravenclaw only smirked at him, before straightening his tie.  “You look handsome, all scruffed up like that.  You should do it more often,” she teased.

Malfoy smiled genuinely at her and Ron almost went weak at the knees.  Since when did Malfoy smile of all things?

“Only if you kiss me,” he drawled haughtily, looking pleased with himself.

The witch’s eyes sparkled.  “I’m afraid, sir knight, that my kisses are reserved for my boyfriend, and,” she poked him playfully, “as you are not currently my boyfriend …” she trailed off suggestively.

Malfoy snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.  “What?  My sending you two letters every day when we were back at home wasn’t enough?  I never send girls letters, Maeve.”

He leaned forward but she pulled back slightly. 

“Not even your mother?”

Malfoy sighed in exasperation.  “Except Mother, of course.”

“Good,” she tugged at his tie again.  “I’d hate to think you neglected your duties toward her.”

He leaned in again and she smiled.  “Just ask, Draco,” she whispered.  “You know I’ll say yes.”

The Slytherin looked startled.  “You will?”

She bit her lip and nodded shyly.  “Of course I will. I just –“ she trailed off before looking squarely into Malfoy’s silver eyes.  “I’m Irish, Draco,” she tried to explain.  “Girls don’t kiss boys unless they’re acknowledged sweethearts.  Not the good Catholic girls, anyway.”  She blushed.

“You’re Catholic, Maeve?” he asked, slight wonder in his voice.

Maeve looked down.  “I was raised in an orphanage, Draco.  They’re run by nuns and priests.  If you’re not religious, you don’t get fed at night. Hunger makes you believe in anything.”  Her hand shook and she pulled a small silver cross out from under her robes.

Malfoy hugged her closely to him and she buried her face in his shoulder.  “We’re getting you out of there, Maeve,” he promised as he ran his fingers through her hair.  “We’ll get you away from those horrible Muggles.”  He pulled away slightly and looked at her glistening eyes before kissing her tenderly.  She didn’t protest.  “And then I’ll be able to introduce my ‘sweetheart’ to my mother over the summer.”

She smiled prettily up at him, and he kissed her again.

Ron felt sick.  Great.  Malfoy could get a girl but he never would, he thought glumly.  Another thing that was all Potter’s goddamn fault.

“Is he even coming?” Maeve finally asked, looking over Malfoy’s shoulder.

“I guess not.  He said he’d catch up with us anyway, and everyone’s in class.”  He took her hand and pulled her along after her down the staircase, which began to move again. 

She smiled up at him, and laughed at herself.  “What would the nuns say if they knew about demonic staircases?”

Malfoy laughed happily in her hair before they began walking down the enchanted steps.

Footsteps began to echo down the corridor and Ron looked up to see Harry coming toward him, his hair messed up as if he had just taken a nap.  An expensive leather bag was slung over his shoulder, and he stood at the top of the stairs, smiling down at Maeve and Malfoy who were once again snogging at the bottom.

It would be so easy, a voice whispered in Ron’s mind as the staircase moved back toward the waiting prefect.  He had everything, everything Ron had ever wanted and just ruined everything else.

He deserved it, the voice coaxed and without even thinking of it, Ron rushed out from the shadows just as Harry was about to take his first step, pushing the wizard head first down the stairs.

“Hadrian!” Maeve shrieked as she looked up to see Weasley standing there poised behind her friend.

With a sickening thud, Harry crashed down the stone stairs as Draco quickly took out his wand and tried to slow his descent.

“Oh my god,” Maeve cried under her breath as she watched helpless until Harry came to a stop a third of the way down.  “He’s bleeding!” she shrieked as she rushed toward him, Draco right behind her. 

Draco quickly felt for a pulse and breathed in relief when he found one, although t was slightly weak.  “He’s alive,” he whispered, quickly looking him over and then freezing when he noticed blood soaking through his trousers.  “Maeve!” he shouted, his voice strangled.  “Run to Snape’s class and get Montague.  Tell him and Snape that – that –“ He mentally shook himself.  “Tell them he might be losing the baby.”

Maeve looked at him shocked but quickly took off down the stairs while Draco levitated his unconscious cousin, praying that he could get him to Madam Pomfrey in time.  Ron was already long gone.

Maeve had never run so hard and fast in her life, barely noticing as she almost barreled over a Hufflepuff and Flitwick called out that he was taking five points from Ravenclaw.  Tears streaked down her face as she cried through her shock and pain, not letting herself even hesitate as she grabbed onto a piece of armor as she turned a sharp corner.  With a final few skipped steps, she banged into the Potions classroom, and the seventh year N.E.W.T. class turned to her stunned.

“Miss Bradley –“ Snape intoned as she quickly drew in a breath.

“Weasley pushed Hadrian down the stairs and there’s blood and – and Draco thinks he might be losing the baby,” she ground out before he could say another word.  “Draco’s taken him to the infirmary.” 

Micah growled dangerously and before Maeve could blink both he and Snape were running past her out of the room, the potions master delaying slightly to grab a bag and toss several potions in it.  “Class dismissed,” he called and Maeve bent over, holding a stitch briefly before tearing out of the room after them.

When she arrived ten minutes later, she slumped down against the wall and watched the scene unfold around her in shock.  Micah was standing at Hadrian’s head, cradling it softly and with a care that almost surprised her, as he looked down at his unconscious mate.  It appeared that Hadrian had been stripped and now only had a thin sheet giving him some sense of modesty, although Madam Pomfrey was using a peculiar instrument to probe him beneath the sheet.  His feet were propped up in stirrups that were conjured at the end of the bed, his knees bent into the air.  Professor Snape was holding his wrist, counting the pulse and monitoring the progress, several empty Potions bottles littering his feet.  Draco was sitting on the next bed, just watching in shock.

He looked up and his haunted eyes met hers, the pain etched in them clearly.  Slowly, she got up and pushed herself up from the wall and came to sit down next to him.  “My little nephew,” he whispered dejectedly as she took his hand in comfort.

Maeve could only nod and rest her head tiredly against his shoulder, watching unseeingly as they tried to save the baby.

“I think another Stabilizing Potion,” Madam Pomfrey said after five minutes to Snape and he nodded before handing a blue vial to Micah. 

“Baby,” Micah whispered as he gently pried Harry’s lips open.  “This is going to help Morpheus,” he explained although they all knew that Harry couldn’t hear him.  It was oddly comforting, however.  “It will make our baby strong.”  He uncapped the bottle and dribbled it into his mouth, stroking his throat so he would swallow reflexively.  When there was no potion left, he quickly wiped his husband’s mouth before closing it gently, kissing the lips that were almost white.

The room was too tense as the four occupants watched Madam Pomfrey as she hummed underneath her breath, depending on her mood.  No one would disturb her.  It was far too important, even if Für Elise wasn’t helping any of their nerves.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she commanded, “Hand me the curved wand.”  She extracted the odd instrument she had been using and traded the two pieces.

Draco felt sickened as he held the tool that was covered in his cousin’s blood and quickly set it down on an empty tray.  He never wanted to look at such a horrible device ever again.

Time stretched and no one could tell if they had been sitting there for only a few minutes or several hours when the doors opened and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall strolled into the room.  McGonagall stopped in shock as she recognized what was occurring on the healing table, her face becoming white.

“Madam Pomfrey?” Dumbledore inquired, an edge to his voice.

“Hush,” she commanded.  “This is an operating room.”  Her face screwed up and she nodded to Snape.  “Blood Replenishing now.”

The process began to repeat itself when Pomfrey turned to the Headmaster sharply.  “Contact the Malfoys and the Montagues immediately and please leave.  I am not in need of any more assistants.”

Dumbledore looked quite put out by her tone but quietly left, his blue eyes dulled. 

“Damned fool,” Pomfrey muttered as she changed the angle slightly.

Harry’s legs unconsciously clenched in his sleep and she smiled approvingly. 

“Almost done,” she smiled to herself and asked Draco to pass a wand that looked like it had a candle at the end of it.

He gulped audibly but handed it to her anyway.  She was a professional, he reminded himself.  She knew what she was doing.

Ten minutes later, she pulled out again and took her hands away from her patient completely.  “My hands, Professor Snape,” she asked, her voice betraying her emotional exhaustion.  He nodded and took out his own wand, cleaning them completely.  “I thank you.”

The matron pulled out her wand and cast several quick diagnostic spells, humming at the results before sighing in relief.  “Mr. Montague,” she said, addressing Micah, “your baby is completely safe and healthy.”

Micah sagged in relief, his knees giving way, and Snape had to catch him.

“Only to be expected,” Madam Pomfrey said to herself as she directed Snape to lay him on the empty bed next to Harry’s.  She conjured a large glass of water and pressed it into Micah’s shaking hands.  “Drink up so you can be awake for Harry.”

He nodded mindlessly and quickly downed the entire glass, his eyes never leaving Harry’s unconscious form.

“Thank the gods,” Draco moaned into his girlfriend’s hair as tears escaped his eyes.  Maeve clutched him tightly to her, just letting him cry out his worry and his pain. 

“I trust,” Pomfrey said to Snape as she began to magically dress Harry in a hospital gown and covered his body with several warm blankets, “that you will see the student who did this expelled.”

Snape nodded gravely.  “He’ll be out of this castle within the hour, and I doubt Lucius Malfoy will not prosecute him for two counts of attempted murder.”

Maeve drew in a shaky breath at the words, but silently agreed.  Weasley deserved everything that was coming to him and he better run very, very far away unless he wanted her to disembowel him personally with her own hands.

Micah took out his wand and had his bed slide closer to his mate’s, until he was staring into his husband’s sleeping face.  With trembling fingers, he traced the planes of his cheekbones and the soft line of his nose.  “Sleep, Hadrian,” he whispered soothingly.  “It’s safe to sleep.  I’m right here.”

“Don’t jostle him,” Madam Pomfrey warned.  “He’ll be on bed rest for at least a week.  More if the Malfoys want to take him home.”

“I wouldn’t blame them,” Snape said quietly.

Draco appeared to pull himself out from his now quiet crying, and looked up at the two adults.  “I don’t want anyone admitted unless they are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Montague, Remus Lupin or his godfather.  Not even the Headmaster,” he warned.

Snape inclined his head.  “I’ll enact the old security wards.”

Maeve looked up at him confused but didn’t ask. 

“They’re wards from some of the older wizard wars,” Draco quietly explained as she began to wipe away his tears.  “When there was an assassination attempt, victims would be put in the hospital wing and it could be blood warded against anyone except for those chosen to enter, until it was safe.”

She nodded.  “Sounds intelligent.”

Draco smiled at her sadly, and turned when he heard the door finally open to admit a fierce looking Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa not far behind him.  The Headmaster was hot on their heals, but was shocked away when he tried to enter behind them.  He looked accusingly at Snape who only nodded his head.

When Narcissa saw Harry lying unconscious, she broke into a slight run and softly grasped her nephew’s unresponsive hand.  “How is Hadrian? The baby?” she asked breathlessly. 

Pomfrey smiled at her.  “Mr. Potter-Black should wake up in a few days.  The baby is stable but Mr. Potter-Black should be confined to bed rest for at least a week if not more.  He’ll need to see a healer regularly, once or twice a week at the least, considering the trauma the fetus has undergone.”  She looked between the Malfoys.  “I trust you have a private Healer on staff considering your justified distrust of the Headmaster.”

Lucius nodded regally as he took in the scene before him.  “We do, Madam.  We did not wish for the pregnancy to become fodder for the Ministry or the press.”

She nodded in understanding and watched Narcissa stroking Harry’s hair.

“What happened?” Narcissa asked in concern as she turned to make sure his son was alright.  He had tears running down his face and a pretty girl next to him was comforting him well enough.  She smiled slightly.  This was the famous Miss Bradley then. 

“H-Hadrian decided to take a nap through lunch,” Draco said softly, his hand still clasped in Maeve’s.  “He was tired and we thought – because of the baby and the stress – it would be alright.  We tried to wake him up in time, but he was still sleepy and told us to go ahead and that he would catch up.”  He fell silent.

Maeve, seeing his distress, picked up the story in a firm though quiet voice.  “We waited at the top of the stairs but he still hadn’t arrived, so we decided to go on ahead.  He hasn’t wanted to be coddled since – everything,” she blushed, “and we went down the stairs and waited at the bottom, talking.”  She blushed again before looking directly into Narcissa’s blue eyes.  “We didn’t hear him coming and the next thing I knew I heard air.  I looked up and screamed.  It was horrible.  Weasley – Ronald or Regan, whatever his name is – was standing at the top of the stairs with a smug look on his face and Hadrian w-was just falling.  Draco grabbed his wand and managed to stop the fall, but there was so much blood.  It was everywhere.  He told me to go get Montague and Professor Snape, so I ran there as quickly as I could.”

“My god,” Lucius breathed, showing weakness for the first time in years as he rested his forehead in his hand.

“They got here just in time,” Madam Pomfrey said as she began to hand chocolate to everyone in the room.  “Eat it,” she commanded Micah.  “You need to retain your strength for your husband.”  He glowered at her but ate the chocolate nonetheless.

“Has his father been told?” Draco asked quietly and Lucius snapped his head up at his son.

“No, we have no way to contact him.  His godfather, however, should be doing it.”

“I want Hadrian removed from Hogwarts,” Micah growled.  “I don’t care what anyone says, this is getting ridiculous.  England doesn’t fucking deserve him anymore.”

Promfrey flinched, but she knew Micah had every right to take away his husband.  He had been molested and now someone had tried to murder him and his baby – all in a matter of a month or two.

Lucius nodded.  “That will be discussed, I assure you.”  He looked over at his son, and smiled slightly.  “Draco, I know you’re exhausted, but the sooner you and Miss Bradley give your statements the sooner Mr. Weasley will be expelled.”

Maeve looked up at him, a determined glint in her eye.  “He better be more than expelled or I’ll come after him with holy water.”

Draco looked up at her, confused. 

She smiled slightly.  “The nuns think it can cure people of witchcraft.  I daresay he’s superstitious enough to believe that it can hurt him.”

He shuddered.  “Please tell me they haven’t doused you with their holy water.”

A sadness tinged her gaze.  “Every summer of course.  They think that Hogwarts is a place where I’ll be cured.”  She smirked at Professor Snape who nodded his head.

“Some of my finest work, if I do say so myself.  They’re even paying for it.”

Lucius bowed his head.  “This is a story I will need to hear in full later,” he conceded.  “Draco, Miss Bradley.”

The three quietly left the room with Snape at their heals, Pomfrey bustling off to another part of the infirmary, knowing her patient was in good hands.

“How are you, Micah,” she asked quietly as she conjured up a chair next to her nephew’s bed.

Micah shut his eyes in pain.  “I thought I’d lost him,” he confessed.  “I would have gladly lost the baby as long as I could have Hadrian, alive and well and smiling at me.  But even though he doesn’t say it, I know how much he wants Morpheus.  He’s so excited when he talks about him coming, even though he wasn’t planned.  He’s,” he swallowed thickly and began to softly play with Harry’s hair, “he’s always wanted a family more than anything I think, and they almost took that away from my little mate.”

Dark gold eyes glowed up to hers, full of frustration and pain.  “Haven’t they fucking taken enough already?  I promised to keep him safe but I couldn’t.  They always come back and hurt him again and again.”  He laughed humorlessly.  “No wonder he went to the Dark Lord,” he said softly to himself.

Narcissa inhaled sharply.  “Hadrian went to our Lord?” she whispered in wonder.

Micah looked up at her, knowing he could trust her.  Narcissa was loyal to the Dark Sect and more importantly to her family, which included her son.

“He blood adopted him with Black.  Hadrian’s his heir.”  He looked at her sternly.  “Someone else needs to know, to protect him while he’s sleeping.”

Narcissa nodded hesitantly, understanding the full implications.  “What about the argument you had with the Heir?”

The tamed wolf chuckled darkly.  “I didn’t know and we had had a misunderstanding before it about the baby – our Morpheus.”

She smiled softly.  “The first Black of the next generation.  A fine name.  Did Hadrian choose it?”

Micah nodded, his hand snaking down until it rested on Harry’s smooth stomach.  “Morpheus Garoul Montague-Gaunt.”

“I didn’t know our Lord was a Gaunt,” she stated softly putting all of the pieces together in her exhausted mind.  “Garoul is an interesting name.”

He growled in a harsh laugh.  “He won’t tell me what it means.  Says I need to improve my fucking researching skills.”

Narcissa laughed prettily.  “My cousin said he spent most of his summer in the Black Family Library.  Who knows what he got up to in it?”

She lightly traced her fingers around his ear and he stirred in his sleep.  “You should sleep, Micah,” she said.  “You don’t want to be exhausted when he wakes up and needs you.”

Micah only nodded before closing his eyes, his hand still gently resting upon his little Morpheus as sleep finally claimed him.