Second Chances

Damien answered Professor Snape's summons with a mixture of relief and anxiety. Anxiety because it was Snape - the man who was determined to change his good opinion of his Grandfather. Relief because answering the summons meant he got out of the dull-as-mud detention with Potter, who had him copying lines from some old Muggle book.

A smart rap on the door to Snape's office, and Damien was immediately granted entrance. He paused in the doorway, disbelieving what he was seeing. Then with a glad cry of "Grandmere!" he hurried into the room to greet his grandmother with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "What are you doing here?" he asked, unable to contain a wide smile, as he dropped down into the seat beside Narcissa.

"I'm here for a visit," she answered vaguely. "I brought you a gift." She gestured toward the box on Snape's desk.

Damien glanced up at his Head of House before standing and making his way to the professor's desk. He hesitated only briefly before lifting the lid from the box and peering inside. He cocked his head to one side, studying the unfamiliar object in the box. "What is it?" he asked.

"It is a pensieve," Narcissa replied.

At Damien's blank stare, Snape explained. "It is a magical device that records memories. In this case, the pensieve holds memories belonging to your Grandmother."

"Look into it, Damien," Narcissa instructed.

Damien did as he was bid, leaning over to peer at the swirling surface of the pensieve. Moving closer to the silvery surface, the swirl solidified into an image: the familiar, if somewhat younger, face of Lucius Malfoy. "Grandfather," he breathed.

"Touch the surface," Narcissa encouraged.

Damien obeyed at once, giving a surprised little gasp as he was sucked into the memories stored in the pensieve.

The pensieve contained several carefully selected memories. The first was of Lucius harshly dressing down a four-year-old Draco for an unacceptable display of affection (hugging his mother in front of his father's contemporaries). The next showed him kicking an unwary house elf and ranting about Harry Potter. The next confirmed the Headmistress' story about the chamber of secrets. There were a few other such scenes, and then the final memory - Narcissa's memory of an interview between Lucius and an anonymous Auror. Under Veritaserum, Lucius had confessed to a long list of heinous crimes. Each crime confessed to was more sinister than the one before, and the retellings became more graphic as Lucius stopped fighting the effects of the Veritaserum and began to take pleasure in revisiting his crimes. Not wanting to subject Damien to the worst of the interview, Snape brought the boy out of the pensieve at a proscribed time.

Damien stood stock still for a moment, his eyes wide and shocked, his breathing shallow and laboured. His entire body was shaking, and his face was pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His frightened gaze flickered from Snape to Narcissa and back again. Then, without warning, he turned and bolted from Snape's office. He made it only as far as the corridor before doubling over and emptying his stomach. Snape cleaned up the mess with a wave of his wand and then helped the trembling child to the nearest boys' toilet. He held Damien while he was sick again and then helped him clean up.

"You were telling the truth," Damien rasped, grasping the edge of the sink for support. "All of you were telling the truth, the whole time. You, and Potter, and Professor McGonagall. Grandfather really did all those things." The boy burst into tears and sank to his knees on the cold tile, his strength gone. Snape, uncertain what to do with the crying child, crouched down beside Damien and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. To Snape's surprise and dismay, Damien rocked forward, flinging his arms around the older man and pressing his face into Snape's chest. The move knocked Severus off balance, and for one harrowing moment he thought he was going to end up sprawled on the lavatory floor with a crying boy atop him. He managed to keep the two of them more-or-less upright, however, ending up with one arm braced against the nearby wall and the other wrapped around Damien. Against his better judgment, Snape held the position until the boy's sobs had subsided somewhat. When the worst of Damien's crying jag had passed, Snape extricated himself from the boy's stranglehold and stood, dragging Damien up with him. Without a word, he led Damien from the loo and down the hallway to his office. The moment Damien saw his Grandmere sitting there placidly, he began to cry again. Narcissa pulled the boy down rather awkwardly to sit on the arm of her chair. She stroked his hair, patted his back, and spoke to him in a soft, soothing tone. Only her eyes and the gentleness of her voice gave any indication of what she might be feeling; otherwise, her masque remained intact, as always. When Damien's sobs had turned to hiccoughs, Narcissa spoke quietly to Snape.

"Perhaps you should send him to his dormitory with a sleeping draught."

Snape nodded once, then found the requested potion and instructed Damien to come with him. Damien kissed his grandmother goodbye and followed Snape from the office. Only after Damien had downed the potion and was safely asleep in his bed did Snape take his leave of the boy.

Damien was extremely vulnerable now. Severus would have to watch him closely for a time to be sure that Narcissa's intervention had not done more harm than good.

*** *** ***

Damien awoke to find Sera sitting at the foot of his bed, her back against one of the four posts, watching him sleep. He gave her a weak smile and struggled to sit up with his back against the wall at the head of his bed.

"You've been asleep all afternoon," Sera said, worry clearly etched on her face. "Are you ill?"

Damien shook his head slightly. "What do you know about pensieves, Sera?" he asked quietly. "Can what's in them be...faked?"

"Pensieves record memories. They're often used to record an incident so that a person can go back later and look at the incident more objectively, without the influence of whatever their own emotions were at the time that it occurred. If there is any way to fake those memories, the books don't mention it," Sera replied matter-of-factly. "Why do you ask?"

"Grandmere came to see me. She brought a pensieve," Damien replied, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I should have listened to you, Sera," he added, his voice sad and tremulous.

"What do you mean?" she asked, moving to sit beside her brother, ready to offer comfort.

"Remember when you tried to tell me that you'd heard things about Grandfather?" he asked, fighting valiantly to keep his tears at bay.

"Oh, Damien," Sera sighed, understanding at once what he hadn't said. She gathered her brother into her arms and held him while he cried silently, soothing him in just the way that Narcissa had earlier. Unlike her Grandmere, Sera's emotions showed plainly on her face. Her heart ached for her brother. She knew how much Damien adored their grandfather, and she could only imagine how much it must hurt him to have his image of the man shattered by the truth.

After a time, Damien's tears stopped falling. He wiped the traces from his cheeks but stayed snuggled in his sister's arms. "I still miss him," he said softly. "And I still love him."

"Of course you do," Sera said soothingly. "We all do."

"Sera," Damien said seriously, turning so that he could look into his sister's eyes. "What do I do now?"

Sera was silent for a moment, thinking. "You should apologise to Dad and Adrian. And you should apologise to Harry." She paused to watch his reaction to her statement - he only nodded sadly - and then she added "And you should sit with Adrian and me tonight at dinner."

"You want me to?" he asked incredulously. Sera nodded and smiled. "Do you think Adrian will let me?"

Sera laughed softly and hugged her brother. "He misses you, you know. He just feels that he needs to show Dad and Harry his support. If you're planning to make things right, then Adrian will be glad to have you back."

"I guess I'll find out soon enough," he said, eyeing his watch critically. He slid from the bed and helped Sera up, tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and escorted her down to the Great Hall.

Sera, it turned out, was right - as usual. Adrian not only accepted his brother's presence at the Hufflepuff table with a wide smile, but also made certain they were sitting side by side.

At the Head Table, Draco saw his children sitting together and smiled.

*** ***

It took two days and an offer of moral support from Sera before Damien felt ready to face his father. He knew he owed his dad more than just an apology or explanation, but he had no way of taking back the hurt he had caused. If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he probably wouldn't change things, even if he could. He was rather glad that Harry was safely out of the picture.

After dinner on Thursday, Damien decided he was as ready to face his father as he would ever be. He excused himself from the Hufflepuff table, and, dragging Sera after him, made his way to his father's office.

*** ***

Harry stepped into Draco's office and shut the door quietly behind him. Draco looked up from the quizzes he was grading and smiled. Setting his quill aside, he stood and rounded the desk to stand before Harry. He cupped Harry's face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on his lips.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Blessedly uneventful for once," Harry replied as he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist.

"No detentions to supervise?" Draco asked. He slid one hand up to slide through Harry's hair; the other stroked Harry's cheek in a tender caress.

"No, thankfully."

"Good," Draco said with a mischievous grin. The hand stroking Harry's hair twisted, tangling in the silky lock and pulling Harry's head back slightly. In the next instant, Draco's mouth was on Harry's, demanding, tender and passionate.

After a moment, Harry pulled away, grinning. "Don't you ever get enough?"

"Of you? Never," Draco replied in a sensual murmur. He chuckled. "I'm making up for lost time, don't you know?"

Harry laughed softly and stretched up to resume his exploration of Draco's mouth. Draco tangled his fingers more tightly in Harry's hair and let his other hand glide down Harry's back to cup his arse. He pulled Harry flush against him and kissed him harder, needing to be as close to the other man as possible.

Caught up in one another as they were, the two men never heard the office door open. A small, wounded cry caused them to spring apart, their gazes falling at once on Damien's hurt, shell-shocked face.

"Damien," Draco said breathlessly. He hadn't meant for his son to find out about him and Harry this way.

"You lied to me!" Damien spat. "You're a goddamn liar!" he roared, stalking across the room to stand before his father. "You promised - you said you loved me. You said I was more important to you than him. You promised you wouldn't see him anymore. But you lied!"

Draco shook his head slightly and reached out to his son, but Damien took a quick step backward, his eyes wild and his small hands clenched into fists.

"You lied to me!" Damien shouted, raising one fist and letting it smack rather ineffectually into the center of his father's chest. Before Draco could react, Damien whirled to face Harry. "And you! I fucking hate you! You think you can just walk right in and take him without a fight? Well you can't. You can't have him," Damien continued, his voice rising quickly towards hysteria. "I won't let you take him...take him away...from me." Damien's words trailed off into broken sobs.

Harry pulled the boy into his arms, surprised when Damien came without a fight. The boy leaned into Harry's embrace as sobs began to wrack his small body; he suddenly felt too weak to stand on his own.

"Hush, now. It's all right," Harry crooned as he cradled the boy against his chest. "You silly boy," he said tenderly. "I never wanted to take your father away from you, and I couldn't even if I tried. He loves you. He will always love you," he murmured soothingly.

Draco bridged the slight distance between himself and Damien, his hands joining Harry's in stroking the child's hair and rubbing his back. When Damien's sobs had subsided somewhat, Draco turned his son around to face him. Looking the boy directly in the eye, he said "No one could ever take me away from you, Damien. And nothing you could ever do will ever make me stop loving you. And I will always, always be here when you need me."

Damien's chin wobbled and he blinked tears from his eyes. He crossed his arms protectively across his chest. "How can I trust you?" he asked tearfully.

"He didn't lie to you, Damien," Sera said, ever the voice of reason. "He never promised you anything."

An angry retort died on Damien's lips and a frown of deep concentration settled between his brows.

"No, I didn't," Draco confirmed quietly, "but that is completely irrelevant. I should have been honest with you - with all of you. I should have told you when I started seeing Harry again. That was an error in judgment on my part, and I am truly sorry. But I can't change that now."

Damien stood quietly for a moment, using the back of his sleeve to wipe the tears from his face with quick, annoyed motions. He looked up at his father, then glanced at Sera, and then at Harry. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and walked with stiff dignity toward the door.

"Damien?" Draco called, concern evident in his voice.

Damien paused with his hand on the doorknob, neither opening the door nor turning around. "I need time. To sort this out," he said shakily. Then he opened the door, slipped out, and shut it behind him with barely a sound.

For a moment, the three of them simply stood, staring at the door. Sera was the first to pull herself together. She shook herself slightly and turned to give her father a sympathetic smile. "It could have gone much worse," she said.

Draco let out a wry little laugh, a sound that spoke of nervousness rather than humour or joy. He opened his arms to his daughter, who immediately stepped forward to let herself be wrapped in his warm embrace. He rocked Sera slightly and kissed the top of her head.

"I should go," Sera said simply. "Good night, Dad." She hugged him tightly and stretched up to kiss his cheek. Then she turned to Harry and smiled shyly at him. "Good night, Harry," she said before hugging and kissing him as well.

"Good night, Sera," Harry returned with a warm smile. As soon as the door shut behind her, Harry wrapped his arm around Draco's waist. "Come on," he said.

"Where?"

"To bed. You look exhausted."

"I am," Draco acknowledged. He let Harry lead him to his rooms where they curled up together in Draco's bed. "I'm such a fool," Draco lamented in the darkness.

"Hush, now," Harry murmured, comforting Draco just as he had comforted Damien earlier that same evening. "You're allowed to make mistakes. Everything will work out all right. You'll see."

"I hope you're right, Harry. I really hope you're right."

*** *** ***

The instant the door shut behind him, Damien let his shoulders slump. Too much had happened in the last few days. Too many revelations, too much disappointment, and too many tears. He couldn't believe he had cried - again - and let Harry cradle him to his chest like a small child. He was far too old for such nonsense.

At twelve, he felt, his childhood days were over and it was time for him to be a man. His grandfather had instilled that belief in him. Regardless of the pensieve's revelation, Damien thought that perhaps his grandfather had been right about this one thing.

As Damien's mind wandered over and around the events of the last week - among other things - his feet wandered the corridors of Hogwarts. When he finally pulled himself from his thoughts, he had no idea how much time had passed and no idea where in the castle he might be. A quick check of his watch showed he still had some time before he needed to be back in the Slytherin dungeons for the night. He wondered absently if he had enough time to find his way back there from wherever he was.

Squaring his shoulders, Damien turned to go back the way he came, hoping to be able to retrace his footsteps. The corridor which faced him, however, was completely unfamiliar. He silently cursed himself for not paying attention to where he was going, and then resolutely strode down the hallway. Hopefully, he would find a teacher, a student, or even a ghost before he got more lost than he already was.

Half an hour later, Damien was still lost and growing more frustrated by the second. He was certain that he was in the very spot in which he had been when he started trying to find his way back to his common room. He swore loudly and kicked the wall, immediately regretting the action and swearing again as pain blossomed in his foot.

"Who's there?" a voice called out harshly from somewhere in the darkness.

Damien whirled, his heart pounding in his chest at the unexpected presence. Relief washed over him when he saw a familiar face. "Armand," he breathed. "Am I ever glad to see you."

"What are you doing up here, Malfoy? This corridor is off-limits."

"Would you please stop calling me that?" Damien requested with an exasperated sigh. "And if this hallway is off-limits, why are you here?"

"I'm a school prefect, or had you forgotten? Now, tell my why you're here," Armand replied levelly.

"I kind of got lost," Damien replied sheepishly. Armand raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "I was kind of wandering around and thinking and wound up here," Damien clarified.

"You must have really been wrapped up in your thoughts to have gotten so lost."

"Yeah."

Armand watched the emotions flickering across the other boy's face and wondered what it was that was on his mind. Damien had been acting rather odd the last few days, but this quiet, almost shy demeanour was something entirely new. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm willing to listen," he found himself offering.

"You are?" Damien asked incredulously, his gaze lifting from the floor to Armand's face for a brief moment before dropping down again.

"Of course I am. That's what friends do," Armand replied gently. He slid gracefully to the floor to sit with his back against the cool stone wall. "Come and sit down."

Damien hesitated only a few seconds before moving to sit beside Armand. "We're friends?" he asked uncertainly.

"Aren't we? I rather thought we were."

Damien simply shrugged, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself.

"So, do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" Armand said, guiding the conversation back on track.

"It's...a lot of things really. I feel like my whole life's been turned on its head, and I'm not quite sure what to do about it."

"Go on," Armand encouraged.

Slowly, haltingly, Damien retold the story of his grandmother's visit and the secrets that the pensieve had revealed. "I've realised that most of what I believe and think and feel is based on what Grandfather taught me, and now I don't know what to think about any of it," he said, swallowing hard to keep the now ever-present tears at bay.

"I can imagine that would be overwhelming," Armand said sympathetically. He slipped his arm around the smaller boy's shoulder in an offer of comfort and support. "You're just going to have to sort through things one at a time. Really think about them, you know? Talk to your friends and your dad, maybe, and see what other people have to say about things, and then form your own opinions."

"Think for myself," Damien said softly, remembering a long ago conversation in which his father had told him essentially the same things Armand was telling him now.

"Exactly," Armand replied, giving Damien's shoulder a little squeeze.

"Can I talk to you about those things?" Damien asked, glancing sideways at the older boy's face.

Armand rolled his eyes. "We're friends, Damien, and I said you should talk to your friends about things. What do you think?"

Damien bit his lip and ducked his head, feeling rather silly for having asked a question that he obviously should have known the answer to. Beside him, Armand sighed softly.

"Sorry," Armand muttered. "My sarcasm was totally out of line. Of course you can talk to me about things, Damien," he apologised.

Damien sat quietly for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into some semblance of order. Finally, he licked his lips nervously and began to talk. "Grandfather was always so proud of me. He liked to show me off to his friends. He said I was a true Malfoy and would be a credit to him. He said I was the complete opposite of my brother. Grandfather always said that Dad coddled Adrian too much, that he was going to ruin him. He said that being babied like that was going to make Adrian soft, make him weak - that he'd probably end up...that he'd probably end up being 'a damned queer'."

Armand scoffed. "That's stuff and nonsense. Hugging your son doesn't cause him to be gay. You are or you're not, and that's all there is to it," he said angrily.

"I think I might be," Damien blurted out. His eyes widened in horror when he realised what he had said, and he hid his face against his drawn-up knees.

"Is that why you freak out whenever anyone as much as mentions homosexuality?" Armand guessed, moving his hand from Damien's shoulder to rub soothing circles on the boy's back. Damien nodded slightly. "Why do you think you might be?"

"There's a boy I kind of fancy," he muttered, his voice muffled against his knees.

"Just one?" Damien nodded. "I thought you fancied Ella."

"I do," Damien replied miserably. "But not as much as I fancy...the boy that I fancy."

"Look, Damien, I'm not exactly an expert on any of this, but I'll tell you what my Dad told me. What my uncles told me, too, for that matter. According to them, a lot of boys - maybe even most boys - get a little confused. You get all these strange hormones running around in you, and for a few years, everything is sexual. Doesn't seem to matter what you're thinking about - boys, girls, Quidditch, potion recipes - everything gets you hard."

"Is it like that for you?" Damien wanted to know.

Armand laughed. "Good Merlin, yes."

Damien let out a relieved sigh. At least he wasn't alone in his confusion. He sat up again, brushing his hair back out of his face as he leaned back against the wall.

"Feeling better?" Armand asked.

With a shy smile, Damien nodded slightly. "Armand, have you ever... You know...kissed a boy?"

"Once or twice," Armand replied with a mischievous grin.

"What's it like?"

Armand shrugged. "It's pretty much the same as kissing a girl. There isn't much difference until you get beyond kissing."

Damien's eyes widened. "You've..."

Armand's laugh cut him off. "You're so innocent it's adorable," he said. "Yes, I've gotten off with another boy. No, I've not had sex with a boy, or a girl for that matter. And for the record, I've been a perfect gentleman where your sister is concerned."

Damien flushed and looked away. A moment later, he turned to face the older boy. He sat for a moment, watching Armand. Then, before he could lose his nerve, he closed his eyes and leaned forward to press a kiss to Armand's lips. When the older boy didn't respond, Damien retreated and opened his eyes, disappointed and hurt.

"Please tell me it isn't me you fancy," Armand said in a near whisper.

Damien looked away again, trying to hide his emotions.

"Fuck," Armand breathed. He ran his hands through his hair distractedly, watching as Damien hid his face against his knees again and his small body began to shake with silent sobs. "Damien, please don't," he begged. He moved to stroke the boy's hair, but Damien threw off his hand angrily. "Damien," Armand said softly, "I'm really very sorry. I didn't mean that the way it must have sounded. It isn't that you're not...that I'm not...because you are, and I am, and...It's just...Sera." After a moment, Damien nodded slightly, his face still hidden against his knees. Armand tried again to comfort the younger boy by gently stroking his hair, and this time Damien let him.

"This is all so confusing," Damien whimpered.

With a tired sigh, Armand pulled the younger boy into his arms and guided the blond head to rest on his shoulder. "It doesn't ever get any less confusing, as far as I can tell."