Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Warning: Harrowing end.

Draco had allowed himself to be tripped as the note implied, but he certainly hadn't meant to injure himself so spectacularly. Waking very briefly, he had seen Pomfrey arguing with what looked like an Auror, but then he had slipped back into unconsciousness. When he woke the second time, a very dear bushy head was laid on the side of his bed, which was definitely not in the Infirmary. Moving his hand cautiously, as it really hurt his shoulder; he stroked the hair which promptly tangled around his fingers, as determined not to let him go as its owner. The slight tug woke her, and Hermione sat up carefully so as not to jar his injured shoulder.

"How do you feel now?" she asked, scrubbing at her face.

"I think a little less authenticity might be in order next time I take a swan dive," he murmured ruefully. "Where are we?"

"Back in the Room of Requirement; we have another four, possibly five months in three days, long enough to have the baby in safety," she said cheerfully.

Draco let out a sigh as the tension he had not realised was winding him up gave away suddenly. "Thank Merlin for that, I was so worried about how we were going to pull it off. How I could possibly watch you trying to be normal when all I wanted to do was keep you safe from harm. How do you feel, anyway? Young Malfoy behaving himself?"

"Full of yourself, aren't you? She is fine, being a very good passenger," Hermione teased then sighed. "I wish I could have told my parents. They would have been so happy for me."

"Best they stay as ignorant as the rest of the world," Draco consoled her. "We'll both go and see them as soon as it is practical and safe, okay?"

"Deal," Hermione agreed then started. "I forgot! It's so exciting! Guess who is sleeping in the next room and getting better every day?"

Draco smiled at her excitement. "Who?"

"Professor Dumbledore! I know, I know, it's fantastic but it's true! Snape did it, he brought him back!"

Draco's jaw simply dropped.

~~*~~

Molly stared down at the frail old man who slept against the white pillow. It was hard to comprehend that this fragile looking shell was really Albus Dumbledore, not a figment of her imagination. When Minerva had called her only an hour before, she had wondered it the older woman had been nipping the scotch too regularly but no, as soon as she had flooed out to Hogwarts, she had felt it, a subtle warmth in the building that had been missing for more than a year.

Minerva had told her the Aurors had discovered Albus' tomb had been opened barely an hour before, and she had had to do some fancy sneaking to get to the Room of Requirement but once there she had to believe it was so. For a slow Friday afternoon, it was too exciting for words. She had left a message for Arthur to join them as soon as the Aurors left the school and settled in to take her share of the round-the-clock watch Poppy and Roger had set over the headmaster.

For the past month the old man had done nothing but sleep, a magically maintained sleep that allowed the healing potions Severus had supplied to do their work. Albus would remain asleep for at least two months while his body and soul renewed their acquaintance and meshed together again after being parted for so long. Molly had wondered at that, but when Draco and Hermione turned up a week later saying less than an hour had passed in the outside world, she had to believe they would have the time to allow for the headmaster to regain his strength and his will.

Then Molly received another shock, the second reason she had been chosen to stay in the Room of Requirement. Hermione Granger was now married and a Malfoy of all things and she was expecting a baby, a Malfoy baby. The ramifications were... horrendous! Oh, she had nothing against Hermione having a baby, despite her age, but Malfoy's? She remembered what Lucius had done to her own daughter, his utter contempt for anything he thought of as inferior, and she quailed for Hermione's unborn child. Draco was not her favourite person in the world, his contempt for others echoing his father's until very recently. Still, he had made an honest bond with Hermione, despite the prejudice such a thing would engender and he was always polite to her. So, she would do her best for Hermione and tolerate Draco until and if he proved to be untrustworthy. Once the decision was made, Molly threw herself into the role of surrogate mother with a vengeance.

Both Poppy and Roger pronounced Hermione as healthy as a horse as she approached her third trimester, the bump showing a distinct rounding as the baby grew. All inhabitants of the Room of Requirement took exercise in the gym which had returned smaller and more compact but still fully equipped. Molly often cautioned Hermione to take it gently, but she just laughed and continued to practice with Draco, although they were careful not to actually hit each other with hexes or jinxes.

After two months of sleeping, Albus Dumbledore finally began to wake up, initially for a few minutes then for longer periods of time. At first he merely smiled a lot, not talking and hardly interacting, almost as if his wits had gone wandering, Roger commented uneasily, but as he began to have longer lucid periods, he began to talk a little and finally to hold conversation. It was not an instant recovery; it took over a month for him to become more like himself both physically and mentally, growing younger and more active every day. His horribly damaged hand had been bathed and treated with a solution of phoenix tears until the blackened and deadened skin had been gently and completely sloughed away, leaving healthy new skin underneath.

"Better than new," Albus pronounced as he clenched his fist over the rubber ball Roger gave to him.

"Actually, that is true," Roger replied with a crooked grin. "You are as fit and as healthy as we can make you, now we just have to wait for your magic to finish coming back and you will be ready to face the world again."

"Indeed, it shouldn't take too much longer," the old man replied with a cheerful grin. "Probably another two months or so, I would say."

"And why do you think that, Headmaster?" Poppy asked, coming in on the tail of the conversation.

"Because Madam Malfoy will probably have her child in two months' time, and no one is going anywhere until that blessed event occurs."

"Well done," Roger laughed. "They are going to need all the support we can muster to keep the child a secret from everyone, including the Ministry."

"Oh, indeed. I think Minerva's niece Mavien from the Highlands will be having an illegitimate child and bringing it to school so that her great aunt can protect it from a vengeful family who don't like the idea of an illegitimate child," the Headmaster mused, getting up to pace as he wove his story. "Of course, Minerva can't look after a child like that all the time so she will of course choose someone who is both responsible and far enough along with her NEWTs to help care for the child. I think Hermione fits the bill perfectly, don't you? And if the child seems to have Hermione's magical signature on it, then it is to be expected, considering how much time she will be spending looking after it."

"Oh, well done, Sir," Draco clapped gently, lounging in the doorway. "We were wondering how we were going to keep the child with us. I know Hermione doesn't particularly want to employ a nanny, but it may well come down to that as she will not own a house-elf, can't think why."

"Oh, she may change her mind when she realises how much work is involved," Roger predicted, but both other men shook their heads resignedly.

~~*~~

Molly woke screaming! Hermione was out of bed, her wand at the ready before the first echo had even reached the corridor, Draco beside her in an instant. "Go to her, I'll guard your back," he muttered tersely as torches flared along the corridor.

Hermione hurried into Molly's room, shocked to see the anguish and fear on the older woman's face. "What is, Molly, what's wrong?"

"Arthur! He's dead, he's dead!" She scrambled out of bed and began to throw clothes on at a great rate. "I have to go to him, I have to!"

"Now, Molly, stop, it was only a bad dream," Poppy said firmly as she bustled in to wrap her arms around the frantically moving woman. "Hush now, hush, it's only a dream. Come on now, drink this and relax a little, it's far too early to go outside just yet," the medi-witch soothed, coaxing her to drink a potion that was potently narcotic. In seconds the frantic woman was drooping and more than half asleep even though she insisted she had to go to her husband's side immediately.

Tucking her back into her bed, Poppy and Roger exchanged puzzled glances - could something be wrong with Arthur? The Weasleys had been married for a very long time, time enough for them to have become a part of one another. Shaking their heads, they sent everyone back to bed, Draco helping Hermione climb back in. He wondered how she had managed to get out of bed so quick, her eight and a half month bulk certainly hard to manoeuvre at the best of times. Honed battle instincts were hard to beat!

"Do you think there is something wrong with Arthur?" Hermione asked sleepily as Draco spooned behind her and soothed the upset child back to stillness.

He was saved from answering as a faint snore came from his wife.

~~*~~

The house was quiet, unusually so as the crack of apparition sounded in the yard. The owl perched disgustedly on the porch rail ruffled its feathers as the agitated woman ran up the steps and cancelled the locking charms with a snap. She batted the bird aside, grabbing the letter carelessly as she stormed inside, bellowing at the top of her voice for her husband. Silence fell abruptly when she spotted the note on the table untouched and unopened.

'Dear Arthur, been called to the school, join me later, Love Molly'

He hadn't read her note!

A creak overhead made her spin around as hope bloomed in her heart, but the tread on the stairs was not her Arthur's, making her turn to the clock and let out a shriek of horror. Instead of three hands hanging to indicate dead children, there were four. Arthur's hand had joined his sons', no longer animated but gone.

"Mum?" Percy's voice wavered as he rounded the curve in the stairs and faltered when he saw his mother's tears. He glanced at the clock, then felt his knees give way and sat down heavily on the steps. "Oh Dad!" he murmured, forcing himself to move toward his mother and guide her to a seat at the scrubbed oak table. The only thing he could think of was to make tea, the remedy his mother had used for years, but it seemed so pointless when the world had just come to an end. There were two lots of tears on the table as he poured his mother a cup of tea and carefully prised the parchment from her hand. She hadn't spoken or even acknowledged his presence since that one dreadful cry. "Mum, I'm going to read your letter, okay?" he said softly, unable to think of anything else to do.

'Molly love, there's a bit of a rumpus here at the Ministry. If I can't get finished, I'll stay on the couch at the office so don't worry. Love you. Arthur.'

"Oh Merlin! The Ministry was under attack when I left, what if... what if he's still there?" Percy whispered in horror.

The faint words made Molly's head turn jerkily, as if her neck joint was badly oiled. "You left your father under fire?" she whispered aghast. "You left your post when your father was being attacked! You coward! You blatant, pathetic little coward! Get out of my sight!" she shrieked at the top of her voice, her wand coming up threateningly.

"I didn't know he was there, Mum, I swear! I didn't know!"

"And that makes it right to leave your duty, to run in the face of the enemy? You are no Weasley of this family, no son of mine!"

The hex she flung at his head was no gentle thing, and Percy only just managed to dodge it as Molly surged to her feet in a fury of torment. Percy dodged the next blast and managed to get his wand out even as his mother turned and flung a handful of floo powder into the flames. "Arthur's office!" she bellowed and was gone in a roar of green flames leaving Percy to cope with a case of festering sores and a feeling of creeping dread in his heart. He did not notice his hand on the clock had been snapped off at the base by the first, deflected spell as he apparated away.

~~*~~

Hermione swore and cursed, random ricochets of magic pinging off the walls of the delivery room Poppy had set up for her. Draco ducked as a particularly strong blast singed the hair off his right side and left a burn scar up the wall. He had known his darling wife had a temper and strong magic, hell, she had almost broken his jaw once, but this was phenomenal! He grinned as Poppy swore too, amazed the sedate older woman even knew such a word.

"I don't know what you are grinning at, Draco Malfoy, but when I can do something about it, I'm going to kill you, or castrate you, whichever comes first!" Hermione promised furiously then moaned when another deep seated contraction wrenched her body in two. "Please, baby, please, just come," she begged tearfully as her stomach contracted sharply.

"You have to relax, Hermione, or you are never going to have this child," Roger said, a faint smile in his tone as the young witch laboured hard.

"Easy for you to say," Hermione bitched furiously then gasped and strained as another contraction hit her. "Make it stop!" she wailed miserably as the contraction faded and a new one immediately built behind it.

"Can we do anything? She's really hurting," Draco exclaimed worriedly, gnawing his lip as his wife grunted in pain.

"Just make her relax, she has to relax and it wouldn't be half as hard on her," Poppy said decisively, shaking her head as another contraction hit.

Shucking his outer robe, Draco climbed up behind Hermione and pulled her into his lap despite both Roger and Poppy's exclamations of horror. "Right!" he snapped, smothering yet another discharge of random magic. "Wild Hair, that's enough, remember the books, you have to breathe properly now, no more of this random rubbish, got me? Come on now, girl, let's do the pant thing, I have you safe."

Hermione found a giggle from somewhere when her two healers looked like landed fish. "Okay, Goldfish, let's go for broke," she gasped, then began to pant as he instructed.

"This is most unorthodox," Poppy exclaimed but managed to collect herself and get on with her job.

Roger grinned and nodded, he had done some Muggle midwifery training years ago and realised the young couple were trying the Lamaze method. Nodding to the young husband, he stepped back and hoped his services as a surgeon would not be needed in the delivery after all. The sharp clap of flesh on flesh followed by a distinct wail brought him out of his reverie as the newborn child protested his entry into the world.

"A little boy," Poppy exclaimed happily as she tended the child then passed him over to his parents who were suddenly galvanised with joy. "Have you chosen Godparents?"

"Yes, but of course they are not here!" Draco giggled slightly hysterically.

"Oh dear, so how are we going to Name the child?" Roger asked worriedly.

Draco smiled, that devious little smirk they all knew so well. "I had them make recordings of what they were going to say so we can name him immediately with no problem."

"Clever!" Roger applauded, but Hermione looked a little sceptical.

"Why would he need Godparents? I am not religious so I don't see..." She trailed off as the three magicals stared at her in complete amazement.

"There's a bit of a difference between Muggle godparents and magical Godparents," Draco said gently. "A Godparent Names the child, fosters his magic and is generally as much a part of the child's life as the parents. Without the Godparents a pure-blood child would unable to take part in certain Rites or ceremonies, would be vulnerable to some types of magical attack on his family and unrecognisable therefore unsuitable for certain positions in our world."

"Which positions?" Hermione asked dangerously.

"Minister of Magic, sitting on the Wizengamot..."

"That's just prejudicial!" Hermione squeaked aghast. "Besides, our child is not a pure-blood, is he?"

Draco shrugged. "He is my Heir and son of my body, he is a wizard born and bred and therefore he is as good as any pure-blood, born of two old families. Hermione, you are Muggle-born and have no Godparents, Poppy is a half-blood and has Godparents, she can sit on the Wizengamot because her magic has been protected by Godparents and the Rites that go with the position, yours has not, and therefore you are vulnerable to some nasty magic which we are not. If you were to sit on the Wizengamot, then you would be a target for certain factions of magic like Elementals and Demonic type spirits, it's just the way it is, nothing personal."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "And if I was to get Godparents at this late point in my life?"

Roger cleared his throat. "Should be alright for an ordinary person, but I'm afraid, Hermione, the adventurous life you have lead may have already brought you to the attention of powers outside our circle of protection. Even having Godparents and the Protection rituals they bring may not be enough; you need to be shrived and consecrated before even attempting the Rite."

"Fascinating, your Rites parallel the religious thinking in so many ways."

"Well, the two worlds were not always so far apart, there were some cross-pollination points in the past," Draco said dryly then kissed her nose. "If you want, once we are out of here, I will arrange to give you Godparents, but in the meantime, let's get our beautiful baby boy protected, shall we?"

"Who did you choose for Godparents, Draco?" Poppy asked quickly to help avert an explosion from her patient.

Draco pulled three crystals from his pocket, and tapped the first one. An all too familiar voice came from the shard of silvery stone. "I name this child Lysander by Godfather's rights."

"Snape, you appointed Snape?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"I did; he is one of the most powerful wizards around and will be a great protection if all goes to hell in the next few months," Draco said quietly as he pulled out the next crystal and tapped it.

Another familiar voice spoke clearly, making Hermione smile. "I name this Child Lysander Abraxas by Godfather's rights."

"Harry Potter, the other most powerful wizard I know so if the other side wins then he is still protected," Draco said modestly, making Hermione laugh.

"Very Slytherin, Mr Malfoy," she teased then settled primly as he pulled out the third crystal and tapped it with a smirk.

"I Name this child Lysander Abraxas Malfoy by Godmother's rights," Ginny's voice said steadily into the silence, and Hermione glowed as she smiled at Draco.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I would have asked Ginny if I'd known."

"I thought you might." Draco smiled smugly. "Besides, she is one scary little witch and will only get more so as she grows up. I wouldn't cross her," he added cheerfully, making Hermione laugh then groan as she hurt.

"Time to rest now, everything is in order and all is done. Now give my young Lysander here so you can have a sleep, my dear. Shoo, Draco, let your wife have a sleep, she needs it. You deal with the caul, cord and afterbirth."

~~*~~

The Ministry was in chaos as Scrimgeour finally arrived, his squads trailing in after him. Tenabar Tungarus had raised the alarm in mid afternoon, and badly wounded people had been portkeying in to St Mungo's most of the afternoon too, but no one had bothered to call him back from the wild goose chase at Hogwarts. Roaring and blustering, he took charge of the rescue efforts, pushing aside the civilian volunteers who were busily excavating the rubble left by the Muggle explosions. Shaking his head in disgust, he flicked his wand to remove the bricks and broken stone, only to have a whole new lot rumble and crash down on the workers. Someone snarled and his wand was plucked from his hand by an indignant young wizard wearing an orange robe and hard hat.

"What the hell are you doing, you moron? Didn't I just say be careful as the whole area was unstable. You have put our work back almost to scratch, you fool! Now bugger off and let the professionals get to it!"

"Do you know who you are talking to, young man?"

"Yes, the stupid git who just caused three more people to be injured! Now get lost!" Shoving the man out the way, Thomas Bones reordered his workers, and they began levitating rubble away gently, leaving the Minister with egg on his face, the spectators booing or hissing him.

~~*~~

Molly held her wand at the ready as she made her way through the rubble strewn darkness toward the main area of the atrium. She found a couple of footprints, but she mainly relied on her tracking spell which could pick Arthur's magical signature out from any number of mixed trails. It led down into the bowels of the Ministry, past the sickening carnage in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and into the Department of Mysteries. She knew she was drawing close to Arthur but her tracer was actually fading, and she refused to think about the consequences of that as she slid along the wall, her ears and eyes searching the darkness for any trace of resistance.

The smell alerted her to the nearness of others, the raw copper smell of fresh blood and the base line stink of terror. As she slunk into the foyer of the Department of Mysteries, her knees went weak and she sank to the ground as her brain tried to digest what her eyes were sending her. Bodies, bloody and torn, were hanging from the ceiling, still suspended in a web of spells, blood and ... other things dripping down sluggishly. She knew one of those forms more intimately than she knew her own, a keen of pure loss sounding as she managed to stagger to her feet. It took raw courage to approach the slowly turning body, brush thinning red hair away from a face so beloved she felt her heart falter in its beating. The limp weight drove her to her knees as the spell was finished without a thought, tears blinding her and washing the blood from his cheek in a salty rain.

Time lost meaning as Molly mourned for the other half of herself, but eventually a faint noise caught her attention and she turned to see one of the corpses was not. Gathering something from deep inside her, Molly managed to stagger to her feet and release the spell holding up the thin girl, catching her as she slumped. Blood stained the front of the girl's robes, and her breathing was underlined by a bubbling rattle. Seeing the damage, Molly quickly cast a healing charm over the slash in her throat. It closed fully, a battlefield charm to hold her flesh together, and the girl did her best to speak. Finally, Molly took her meaning and pulled a depleted roll of bandage out of the girl's pocket.

Molly recognised the slightly silvery stuff as something Arthur had raved about a few months ago, a portkey bandage and rather rare as the spells on it were complicated and hard to do. Stifling another keen of loss, Molly read the instructions and carefully measured a length off the roll. Wrapping a coil around the girl, she tapped it with her wand then hurried back to Arthur, wrapping them both in the last few feet before sending them both out to wherever the portkey dropped them.