Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace
Chapter Three: When Close is Too Close

Draco Malfoy ran a hand through his unnaturally unkempt hair. "Bloody spoiled brat," he murmured under his breath, though he did not mean it. He ran off to the small bedroom across the hall from his own.

"Gaggla?" came a small voice as he turned on the light.

Draco grinned at the boy whose face was tear-stained and red, and had a fist stuck firmly in his mouth. "Get that out of there before you choke, kid," he said, walking up to him and prying his son's arm from his mouth.

"Mooma?" Amyn said, staring up at Draco, his mouth open a bit.

"Nope," Draco said, lifting him from his crib. "Gaggla, sorry brat." He smirked. He had never loved anything before. But there was a first time for everything, right? "What were you making that racket for, anyway?"

"ACHOO!" Amyn sneezed a reply.

"Oh, right. How about a Pepper-up Potion, then?" said Draco, more to himself than to the boy resting his little orange-brown head on his chest. "I'll take that as a 'yes,' then."

Draco hurried back to his room, grabbed his wand off of the night table, and reentered the kitchen, Amyn now coughing. "Urgh. Stop..." Draco said, looking down at the bundle of robes that was his son. Amyn sneezed again, and Draco grinned.

Using his wand to summon the bottle, Draco attempted to give Amyn a bit of the Pepper-up Potion, much to the boy's dislike. Amyn spluttered and coughed at the terrible taste, but Draco, in the end, won.

Draco laid Amyn down on the couch just outside the kitchen, and went back into the kitchen to put away the potion. But Amyn would not have this.

"What the hell is your problem?" Draco yelled from the kitchen as the boy in the living room screamed incomprehensible words.

When Amyn continued to squall, Draco put down his wand and entered the front room. "What're you yelling for?"

"Mooma," said the boy through sobs.

Draco looked angry for a few seconds, but had no choice but to give in and bring him to his mother.

The pair of them arrived at The Burrow via Floo Powder to find no one home. Draco found this very odd, considering how many people lived in the house. Where was Ginny?

"Where do you think they went, my little dumbass?" he said jokingly to the small child he held in one arm.

Draco shrugged and took Amyn upstairs to Ginny's room. Though he had only been in Ginny's room once, he noticed that several things were missing. Unsure of what they were, he put him in the crib, and began to look around the room for a clue of where everyone was so he could give Amyn to his mother. He hunted the closet, under the bed, her chest of drawers, and found nothing. Lastly, he pulled open the two drawers on her night stand. He came to the last one -

"A diary?" he said, smirking. What secrets does the precious Weasley brat hold? he thought, taking the diary out of the drawer. He opened it up to the last page that had been recorded.

August 31, 1998

I go to Hogwarts tomorrow, and I think I'll leave you here. I don't want anyone to find you there. No one ever comes in my room here, so you should be safe. I don't have anything of great importance to say today, except that no one has found out about my secrets. You are the only thing that knows anything of them.

- Ginny

Draco thumbed through the pages, eagerly reading the entries, looking for the 'secrets' she spoke of. So far, the only things she had written about were Amyn's first words, the day he crawled, a fight she had with Potter, and her brothers teasing her. He read each entry carefully, hoping that one of the 'secrets' would jump out at him and he could hold blackmail on her and her family.

And he found something worth reading.

July 18, 7:00 PM

Oh God. The Order members that were coming to see me and Amyn were Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, and Tonks (who announced she was dating Remus, they're so cute together), Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Mad-Eye Moody. Dumbledore discovered something about Amyn's eyes. They're the colour of emeralds. Everyone began accusing me, but not in a harsh way. Remus, who had written me in the first place, did not talk to me much the rest of the day. They all thought Amyn was Harry's, and not Draco's. But Harry convinced them all that we had never slept together, and, because Harry was Harry, everyone believed him. Of course they believed him, I put a memory charm on him! He wouldn't remember anything about that night! I really want to tell Harry now, but I can't do that without hurting him in the worst way possible. I don't know what I'll do. He has to know that Amyn is his, but I can't think of a way to tell him.

There was more, but Draco did not think he could take anymore. Amyn wasn't his child... Draco threw the diary across the room, barely missing Amyn's crib. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to kill something...kill someone...he wanted out. He wanted away from the Hell he was living. Nothing, nothing could have prepared him for this. He ran over to Amyn's crib, not wanting to believe it. But, no; his eyes were the exact shape, the exact color as Potter's. This was the worst he had ever felt in his life - even when his father had been sent to Azkaban in his fifth year.

"Remember next time," Draco muttered bitterly, sinking to the ground, "not to get attached. This is clearly when close is too close."

He laughed at himself, at what he had done. He had always told himself not to love anything, and when he finally trusted himself to love, he lost it. Was this not what his father had warned him about? His father had been right about everything. So would he not be right about the Dark side, too?

'Of course...' Draco thought, a sparkle coming into his steely gray eyes. He laughed again. 'Of course he would be right about the Dark Lord and his elite army. Mudbloods deserve everything they get. And so do all those prats that believe in love.'

He grinned broadly, then Disapparated, leaving the boy in the crib alone.

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Eighteen Months Later

Ginny is nineteen, and has just married Harry. Amyn is two, and no one knows where Draco is.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny said, entering the bedroom to see Harry reading a very familiar brown leather book.

Harry looked up. "What is this?" he said, admiring it.

"It's my diary, obviously. The one you bought me when Amyn was born. Why are you reading it?" Ginny said, walking up to the bed, where Harry sat, and snatching it away from him.

"Sorry. Saw it and got curious," he said grinning. "Why, is there something in there you don't want me, your husband, to see?"

Ginny frowned. He did not know how serious this was. But he had to know sometime. Would it kill to tell him now? They were married now, and had been for two months. So he should be more mature about it. "Yes."

It was Harry's turn to look down-spirited. "Er - do you need to talk about it?" he said awkwardly, patting the spot on the bed next to him.

Ginny put on a forced smile, and sat down next to him, nodding.

When she did not speak, Harry looked strangely at her. "Well... erm... what is it?"

"It's... er... about Amyn..." Ginny said slowly and quietly.

Harry nodded, urging her on.

"Well, Amyn is... he isn't Draco's..." she let her sentence trail, looking down, her cheeks glowing a deep crimson.

Harry's eyes were wide, his jaw was hanging, and he was absently fiddling with the sheets. "Who's?" he croaked.

"Harry, it's the worst thing I've ever done. I'm ashamed of it," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

Harry put his arms around her shoulders, locking her in his embrace. "Hey, shh... it's okay, you can tell me anything," he whispered soothingly.

Ginny wiped her eyes on Harry's pajamas. "You," sob, "would," sob, "hate," sob, "me!"

Harry frowned at her, pressing his cheek the top of her head. "Ginny, no matter what you do, or have done, I could never hate you. I love you."

Ginny sniffed and looked up at the man before her. "Yes you could," she muttered stubbornly.

Harry smiled softly and shook his head. "Just tell me. You'll see."

Ginny frowned, but nodded. "He's...he's not a Malfoy...obviously. He's... he's a... P-P-P..." she could not bring herself to say it.

"He's a what, honey?" Harry said, looking into her eyes unblinkingly.

"A... Potter," she clenched her eyes shut, and flung herself back on Harry's shoulder.

Harry did not say anything. He sat in the bed, rubbing her back off-handedly. Ginny sobbed on, not noticing Harry was so silent. Then the tears and gasps vanished, and she did take notice.

"Harry?" she said in a tiny voice. "I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." she allowed her sentence to break off into the silence.

"How?" was all he managed to say, his bright green eyes staring ahead of him dazedly.

"After the Quidditch celebration. Right before me and Draco..." her voice shook, but she ignored it. "before Draco and I did what we did.... we slept together. I believe both of us had too many bottles of firewhiskey. I was so ashamed of myself, that I erased your memory. Please don't hate me, I wanted to tell you, but I was sure you would never forgive me."

Harry put on a smile that Ginny recognized as the same one she had forced. "It's okay," he said in the quietest monotone she had ever heard. "I... I understand..."

"You do?" Ginny said, a small smile creeping up on her mouth.

Harry nodded. "So... so... Amyn's... mine?"

"Yeah... he is." She smiled; Harry was not angry, and he did not hate her...he still loved her.

Harry placed a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Ginny, but you should have told me sooner. I - erm - really should go to sleep. Work in the morning," he smiled happily.

Ginny returned the expression, agreed, and fell asleep next to her husband...the husband who still loved her.

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Three months later

Draco Malfoy's name was turned in as a Death Eater - but no one is sure where he is. Harry and Ginny changed Amyn's name to Potter, and named Remus Lupin godfather, and Hermione Granger-Weasley (she and Ron were married two months earlier.) remained godmother.

Harry sat in his front room, reading the Evening Prophet, and Ginny was fixing Amyn supper ("Just eat it!" "NO! ").

"Gin," Harry said, laying down the paper, and walking into the kitchen wearing a frown. "Gin?"

"Ugh! NO, Amyn! No, put the carrots down! No, don't throw them at Mummy! God, what, Harry?" Ginny said angrily, dodging a handful of mash, and staring at Harry.

"The Prophet said Draco Malfoy is headed for Godric's Hollow," Harry said, his face slightly pale.

"What?" Ginny asked, narrowly missing being hit in the forehead with carrots.

Harry frowned. "What should we do? We don't have any protection charms on us," he said slowly, feeling his robes for his wand.

"Erm... Harry, what did your mother do to save you, exactly?" Ginny said quietly, grabbing Amyn's hands.

"No," Harry said flatly, watching as his son struggled against his mother's grip.

"What?" Ginny said, wrenching the plate of food from Amyn with force.

"No. I... I can't let you do that. I can't lose you." His face was solidly set.

"Harry, it's me or Amyn," Ginny said in the same whisper.

"Ginny, no. We'll hide Amyn. I can take on Malfoy..." Harry allowed his sentence to trail, his brow furrowed, a frown riding his lips.

"I know you can. But I don't want to take any - " BANG!

"What the hell!" Harry yelled, running to the front room. "Oh, God! Ginny, it's him! Take Amyn... GO!"

"Harry! No! I can't leave you!"

"GO!" he roared, turning to face the door. He felt for his wand, but he couldn't find it.

Draco Malfoy stood before him, a wide smirk on his face, and his wand pointing directly at Harry's forehead.

*~Fin~*