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Chapter 2: The Role of a Lifetime

The cramp caught Draco just as he was getting out of bed and instead of making his way to the bathroom for his morning ablutions, he found himself curling up on his duvet and biting his lip to keep from crying out. As his stomach muscles relaxed, he went over the past two months.

He could tell Potter was surprised when he'd walked into Potions the day after, calm and collected and healed from the damage. He could tell that Potter was even more surprised as the days went by and no one came to question him. Their relationship, his and Potter's, had become one of avoidance. There'd been no more confrontations, no more posturing, no more hissed threats. Neither openly acknowledged the other's existence, but Draco could feel Potter's eyes on him at times and knew that if the super brat's friends actually cared about him, they would see the guilt written all over his face. But Mudblood and Weasel were caught up in their own petty dramas, so they didn't see, they didn't want to see.

A shadow fell over him and Draco looked up to see Goyle and Crabbe standing over him. "Go on to breakfast," he ordered. "I think I'm catching the flu that's going around. I shall be in the hospital wing if anyone asks."

He watched them leave before he struggled upright and into his robes. The cramps were rhythmic and if he breathed just right, they weren't too debilitating. Thankfully, he'd done his research and had expected the pains. If he hadn't, he would've been in a panic. He didn't have time to start another Plan.

He made his way to the wing, stopping before the door to adjust his appearance before he went in. Anxious, but brave. That was the approach he was going to take.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He looked at the nurse and swallowed hard. "Madam Pomfrey," he began, then deliberately let one of the cramps have full rein. He curled over the arms wrapped around his middle.

"Ah, another case of the flu. If I could just get you children to come to me before you caught it, I-" She stopped as he shook his head. Then she frowned as he let his anxiety show in his eyes. "What is it, child?"

He wrung his hands and dropped his eyes. "I'm a Progenitor, Madam."

Pomfrey gasped. "Are you certain, Mr. Malfoy?"

"That I'm a Progenitor, yes. Of the other, no. That's why I've come to you."

She pointed him toward a cot. "You should have said something...earlier."

"I wasn't thinking too clearly that night," he said, shame and defeat heavy in his voice. She nodded compassionately. "Afterwards, well, I didn't want to face the possibility. The worst had already happened. Surely, I couldn't go beyond that."

She squeezed his shoulder, then whipped out her wand. She performed a series of precise flicks and swishes and gave a sad smile as a soft light engulfed his abdomen. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco trembled and sighed. "I feared as much."

"I want to do a complete examination, then we'll have to inform the Headmaster and your head of House. And your parents."

"No! Please, Madam Pomfrey, not my parents. They can't know! They'll kill me-or worse."

"Shh, child. We can discuss it later with the professors. Now, let's get that exam out of the way."

An hour later, Draco sat in the Headmaster's office, Snape standing behind him protectively. Dumbledore was staring at him closely, and Draco was grateful that he'd mastered Occlumency at an early age. Blocking his thoughts from Lucius was the first bit of magic he'd learned on his own.

"I am deeply saddened by your troubles, Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster said. "That this happened while in my care is inexcusable. But while things look dark, there is always light."

"Like the fact that we can now ascertain who attacked you," Snape said, his voice full of vengeance. "A simple Pater test and the culprit will be named and dealt with."

"Do we have to?" Draco asked, making sure it wasn't a whine. "It will complicate everything."

"Why do you say that, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore inquired. "How could knowing who-"

"It's better if he remains unnamed. Trust me," Draco warned.

"You know who it is." Snape made it a statement, not a question. "You found out?"

"I've always known."

Snape was furious and moved to stand in front of Draco. "Why have you been hiding this? Was this some kind of-what do the Muggles call it-a date rape? Is it a fellow Slytherin?"

"No. No, it wasn't a date rape. No, it's not a Slytherin."

"Then why are you protecting him?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Because it wasn't his fault, sir. He was under the influence of a hex or a potion."

"How do you know this?"

Draco looked up at his head of House. "Because this person is not the type to do something like this. It goes against his very nature."

Snape paled. "A Gryffindor."

Draco nodded.

"You had detention with Potter that night, didn't you?" Snape continued. He eyed Draco speculatively. "The assault did not occur in a corridor."

"No, sir." Draco dropped his head in dramatic defeat.

"Harry is the one that attacked you?" Dumbledore questioned for clarity.

"Yes, sir."

"Why the fuck were you protecting Harry Potter?" Snape spat out, and Draco knew his teacher must be furious to use such a word, much less use it in front of his superior.

"I wasn't protecting Potter; I was protecting me. If I had accused Potter of raping me, no one would have believed it. Even with the magical snapshots Madam Pomfrey took, it would have been my fault, Professor. It was a prank gone wrong. I was secretly after Potter and a lust spell went out of control. The Dark Lord made me do it to break Potter. I-I asked for it. I begged Potter to be rough with me. I'm a perverted bottom-boy... You know how it would have been. I'm a Slytherin-we hurt people, but we can't be hurt ourselves," he said angrily.

"This bloody House system," Snape muttered.

"Perhaps we should have heeded the Sorting Hat's warnings," Dumbledore said sadly. "Or perhaps this is the way we can start to work together. We need to inform Mr. Potter and your parents, Draco."

Draco knew the next minutes were crucial to his Plan. "We can't tell my parents, sir. How do you think my father will react to finding out I allowed Potter to brutally assault me?"

"You allowed no such thing," Snape sniffed.

"And you think that will make a difference to Lucius?" He watched their faces and waited until he was sure they agreed with him. "I'm of age. I don't have to return to their care."

"But-" Dumbledore began.

"But what, sir? You know who my father is, what he is." Draco gave a bitter laugh. "Can you think of a better way to hurt Potter than to control or murder his child? The Dark Lord would be ecstatic." He shook his head. "I can't go home. Ever."

"Do you understand what you're saying, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I don't have a choice, sir." He wrapped his arms around his middle. "This is all I have left. I won't risk it. I can't." He could feel the single tear trace its way down his face. He tilted his head slightly so it would glisten in the light.

"You have us, too, Draco, and Harry as well, I don't doubt," Dumbledore said with all the reassurance his twinkling eyes could confer. He summoned an owl and tied a hastily scribbled note to its leg before sending it on its way.

When the owl appeared at one of the windows opening into the Gryffindor common room and flew straight to him, Harry wasn't surprised. He also wasn't surprised when he read its directive. He'd been waiting for it ever since he'd read the note that Potions had been canceled. That, added to Malfoy's non-appearance at breakfast, made him both apprehensive and relieved. He was tired of hiding the terrible secret. It haunted his dreams at night and kept him on edge during the day. There hadn't been a second occurrence, but the first had been enough. He was ready to be punished.

That Malfoy had stayed quiet for two months was astonishing. The way he'd whined about the cut from the hippogriff, Harry had figured Malfoy would've milked the attack for all it was worth as soon as the initial feeling of humiliation had worn off. He'd been shocked to see the boy in class the next day and startled by the lack of blackmail attempts. But recently he'd noticed he seemed paler than usual, maybe a bit haunted. He figured the memories were getting to Malfoy and pretty soon the secret would be spilled.

"Harry?"

Harry smiled at Hermione. She was the only other Gryffindor in Advanced Potions, and they'd returned to the Common Room to study during the unexpected free period. "Dumbledore wants to see me."

"Has something happened?"

Harry shrugged. "He probably just needs me to save the world. Again," he said cheekily. "After all, I'm Potter, Harry Potter."

Hermione laughed. "I'm glad Ron's not here. He never gets our Muggle references and it sort of takes the fun out of them when you have to explain."

Harry smiled at her, wondering if he'd get a chance to come back and say goodbye...or would he immediately be taken into custody. "Have patience with him, 'Mione. He's worth it."

She looked at him curiously. "Of course he is, Harry. Are you sure you don't know why the Headmaster wants to see you?"

"Could be anything," he lied. "See you later, okay?"

"Sure. If you're late to lunch, I shouldn't worry, right?"

"Right."

He left the tower and refused to dawdle as he made his way to the gargoyle statue. "Goobers," he said, making use of the password that was in the note. He walked up the stairs and into the Headmaster's Office, not surprised to find Malfoy and Snape there.

"Harry, please have a seat," Dumbledore motioned toward a chair next to Malfoy's. "I think you may know what part of this meeting is about."

Harry nodded. "I-sexually assaulted Malfoy, and I'm glad he told you because if he hadn't, I would have."

Dumbledore looked at him gravely. "I've no doubt this has weighed heavily on your mind. I knew you were troubled, but you have become so good at Occlumency-both of you-that I could not get a handle on what was so pressing. I'm glad that it's all in the open now."

"I am too," Harry agreed. "Does there have to be a trial, or can I simply admit to it and go directly to Azkaban?"

"Eager for prison life, Potter?" Snape asked from his seat on the other side of Malfoy.

Harry flushed. "No, but I'm guilty. What I did to Malfoy... I deserve whatever I get."

Dumbledore shook his head. "There will be no imprisonment, Harry. Mr. Malfoy is not here to press charges against you."

"What?" Harry shot Malfoy a glance. "What's going on?"

"I told you I didn't blame you, Potter."

"But-but I'm here. Why are we having this discussion?" Was Malfoy merely trying to make him look bad in front of Snape and Dumbledore? That was sort of petty, but it was Malfoy, after all.

"There's been a complication."

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "What kind of complication?" Oh, Merlin, he hadn't given Malfoy some kind of venereal disease, had he? Didn't you have to have sex before you could give someone something though? But he could have picked up something from a toilet seat, right? Shit. Dudley. Dudley could have brought home anything. Oh, hell, he'd given Malfoy some Muggle disease, and now they both were going to have to go to a Muggle specialist, and Malfoy was going to kick his arse up and down the entire wizarding world.

"Potter, I'm a Progenitor."

It was a disease. But it didn't sound Muggle in the least. "They can cure that, right?"

Dumbledore laughed, Snape smirked, and Malfoy just rolled his eyes. "It'll clear up with time," he replied dryly.

Harry was relieved. "Good. I'm glad, Malfoy. So we can just forget what happened, right? Go back to our original plan?"

Malfoy glared at him. "Potter, you stupid tit, I'm pregnant."