Nied is Not Enough

Chapter 18

"I've already informed the Headmaster of your whereabouts."

Harry blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the firelight. He was lying on a sofa of sorts; propped against a few hard cushions and covered with a blanket. He turned in the direction of Draco's voice.

The blond sat on a sofa opposite Harry. A child lay on the sofa next to the blond, with her head in his lap. Draco mindlessly ran his fingers through the child's silky white-blond mane. Morgan slept as Draco stared across the low table at Harry.

Harry made the motion to speak and Draco held up his hand to silence him. "I don't want to wake her." He whispered across the table.

Harry settled back against the cushions again. He watched the two across from him. They were beautiful. No other words could come to his mind. His child. His and Draco's child. She bore every physical resemblance to Draco but carried in her magical abilities so much of Harry. It made no sense. It made perfect sense. But it was entirely difficult to wrap his head around it all. Hours ago, Harry almost let Draco walk out of his life forever. Now, he was sitting in this fire-lit cottage watching the only man he ever loved soothe their child. Their child.

Harry inhaled deeply, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. It was insane. All of it. He noticed Draco's eyes focused on him, and for the first time in weeks, Harry felt like he was home. His eyelids felt heavy again as he watched the two of them, finally allowing himself to sleep.

******

"I just don't know why you brought him here, Professor Malfoy."

"Morgan, please stop calling me that. I'm your father. The formalities aren't necessary."

"I don't have a father. He died when I was a baby."

"We've gone through this a hundred times. I didn't die. I didn't leave. Your mother took you away from me and made me believe you were...that you..."

"I know, Professor, that I was drowned."

"Yes. That you were drowned."

Harry woke to the soft conversation coming from behind him. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. When a morning stretch was inevitable, he pushed his feet over the end of the couch, wiggled his toes and let out a slight growl. The crash of china on the stone floor sent him upright in search of the source of the sound.

Behind him, Draco and Morgan sat at the large wooden table he'd seen in Draco's memory; each at an end of the table swathed in soft December morning light. Next to Morgan's chair was the teacup she had inadvertently dropped at Harry's morning growl. With the sweep of a hand, Draco repaired the cup and replaced it on the table.

"Good morning, Harry." Draco said with an unusual amount of cheer in his voice. He scooted himself away from the table and moved to fill Morgan's teacup again.

"Morning, Draco. Morgan." Harry rattled out in a yawn.

The child, entirely serious, stared at him until he felt slightly uncomfortable. Harry pushed off the blanket he had been sleeping under and rubbed his sore eyes.

"Will you join us, Harry? Morgan and I made some breakfast. Didn't we, Morgan?"

Harry heard her harrumph at the table. This is going to be a long day. "I'd love to." Harry quickly folded the blanket and placed it on the arm of the couch. The smell of fried potatoes and coffee wafted through the morning air. "Smells great, you two."

Harry piled his plate full of potatoes and smiled as Draco filled the coffee cup in front of him. Morgan swung her legs, kicking the table leg with every forward swing. Draco sat back in his chair considering the two in front of him. Harry hunkered down in his chair, eating as quickly as he could. Harry watched the two on either side of him from the corners of his eyes. He was truly uncomfortable. Draco still hadn't let their bond be realized and sitting in the same room with him was excruciating. The air was sliceable.

"Please stop kicking the table," Harry asked in Morgan's direction.

"You can't tell me what to do," she replied scathingly.

"He's not telling you, Morgan. He's asking you." Draco was as soothing as he could possibly be. She stopped.

"She has your obstinacy, Draco." Harry dryly said to the man on his left.

"Funny, Harry, I was just thinking the same thing...only it's your obstinacy."

"She is still sitting here, if you two didn't notice." The child glared at both men through squinted eyes.

After Harry quickly finished his breakfast, he sat back and stretched. The grey of the island spread into the room, giving it a certain sadness. Draco stirred his coffee unthinkingly, staring at the wood grain in the table. Morgan sat hunched in her chair; her blond hair covering her face. Harry rubbed his sore eyes again. The three of them sat in absolute silence for several minutes before Draco pushed himself away from the table and began clearing the dishes.

"Morgan, I was wondering if you'd give me a hand with these." Draco looked over his shoulder as he stood at the sink.

The child reluctantly slid from her chair and scuffed to the sink. Draco turned his body to face Morgan as she approached. Her head still down, she stood facing him as well. He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled sweetly and apologetically at her.

"Harry, I had Ron send some of your things through the Floo Network. You'll find them upstairs in the third bedroom. The bathroom is across the hall from your room."

Harry couldn't wait to get his contacts out. Sleeping in them was not the most comfortable thing in the world. It was more comfortable than sitting in this room at the present moment and he decided it would be a good time to gather his thoughts. He slid away from the table and made his way through the large room of the cottage to the staircase. This was the first time he'd really looked at his surroundings since he awoke. The room seemed so much livelier than it had in the memory Draco gave him. The books and parchments were no longer scattered about. Beautiful portraits adorned the walls of the room. The tan couches sat facing each other with a low wooden table between them in front of the fireplace. In the corner near the staircase were bookshelves lined with framed photographs, smallish statues and tomes. Grey light poured through the windows but was countered by the deep red of the walls.

The stairs creaked under the pressure of his footsteps. Harry walked toward the first bedroom, remembering tiptoeing through it in Draco's memory. The door was slightly ajar and he stuck his head in. The dresser remained the same as did the rocking chair next to the window. The folded nappies and blankets were gone along with the dragon and lion mobile. In one corner was a twin-size brass bed, overflowing with fluffed-up white pillows. A Slytherin robe hung just inside the door and across from the bed was a light-wood armoire.

The stairs creaked again, causing a rush of panic to invade him. He pulled his head out of the doorway and started toward the third door.

"Harry?" It was Draco's voice. "You find everything okay?"

He took a deep breath. "Yes, thank you. I think I'll hop in the shower if you don't mind." He tried to understand his own use of formality. He hadn't spoken to Draco that way since the beginning of the term. He shook it off as the tense breakfast with Morgan.

The stairs creaked again, denoting Draco's leaving. Harry passed the door from Draco's memory that was sealed with magic wards and entered the third bedroom. He found his travel case packed with several outfits, his toiletries and a note with Hermione's writing on it on the bed. Harry sat on the bed hard, letting his head fall into his hands. He quickly thought about the breakfast just now...how Morgan seemed to hate the idea of his very existence, the way she formally addressed Draco, the small quip of conversation he overheard upon waking. He wondered if Morgan and Draco had been here in this cottage since their disappearance. He wondered why he had so easily forgotten his anger and feelings of betrayal but he really hadn't forgotten at all. There were so many questions that needed to be answered, but he decided that he would first let the day roll however it would without his own frustrations taking over.

The note from Hermione sat on top of his travel case. He unfolded it and read it in the grey light of the island.

Harry,

I hope Ron and I packed the right things. Ron doesn't think I chose enough black clothing, though.

Harry chuckled softly.

Sorry about last night Harry. We were just so excited for you that Draco was here...we didn't think...oh well, it's no matter now. At least you are together. The three of you. Hopefully you can work through some of this so Morgan isn't always trying to take you out. I may have some information you might find useful, but it'll have to wait until you get back. Your friend Ron is taking me to the Burrow for the holidays. He is just about to drive me crazy...bouncing off the walls here like he's a second-year. Anyway, Harry, please try and be civil. She is only a child after all. I'm sure Draco will be more than happy to explain everything to you if you can manage to keep your temper under control.

Happy Christmas, my dear friend.

~Hermione

Harry closed the note and noticed Ron's scribbling on the back.

Oi, Mate...

Don't be a jackass. That bloody ferret loves you. P.S. Wish me luck.

Those two, Harry decided, were insufferable gits. And he loved them more than he could ever express. He hadn't had time to be a jackass or let his temper get away from him. He was too busy trying to just breathe. He wondered for a brief moment what Ron needed luck for. More pressing than anything, though, was his own need for a hot shower.

********

Harry spent an hour or so standing and staring out the window of his room, watching the tide break and roll, collide and retreat from the shore. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn't hear the knock on his door or Draco saying his name. He didn't hear the door open or the blond enter the room. What finally roused him were warm arms sliding around his waist and Draco's chin resting on his shoulder. He breathed a sigh mixed with the relief of his lover's touch and the melancholy of knowing things would never be as they were those first few months that he understood their bond.

He finally relaxed against Draco, sick with sadness. Draco held him closer. They breathed in unison and Harry let go of the curtain he was holding out of the way. He slowly turned to face Draco, keeping their bodies close together and wrapping his arms around the blond's shoulders. They melted into each other's touch and warmth.

Harry felt something warm spread over him...warm like the night in the Leaky Cauldron those many months ago...Draco was releasing his communication magic from the palms of his hands where they touched Harry's back. Harry savored the warm magic; the feelings of sorrow and love, the relief and joy. Harry reciprocated, letting his own communication magic flow from his palms. Draco made a small gasp as the magic from Harry flowed into him. Both men held the other closer until each felt as though he would pop. Harry finally loosened his grip and leaned far enough away to look into Draco's face.

"We have a lot of talking to do, Draco." He searched the blond's features, brushing a stray hair or two off of his forehead. Draco nodded.

"Things can't be exactly the same as they were."

Draco shook his head.

"Did you forget how to speak?" Harry asked as he lifted Draco's chin.

The blond smiled at this as he looked back and forth at Harry's eyes. He tilted his head down a bit more and a look of complete concentration lit his features.

Harry's eyes widened as he felt, for the first time in weeks, Draco enter his mind. He felt the link between them; he could feel every emotion in Draco's body. He could feel the absolute love Draco had for him...the respect, the adoration, the frustration. Harry's heart sped up and it felt like it would pop out of his ribcage. The love he had for the man before him rose up in his chest and caught in his throat. It filled his eyes with tears, it flushed his face pink. It numbed his arms and legs. It was real. All of it...the child, the cottage, the bond between them...

They stood for moments or hours, staring at each other, drinking each other in. Their magic pulsed around them: intertwining, knitting, melding, meshing.

********

In the doorway, with eyes as wide as saucers, was Morgan. She saw the magic surrounding the two men. The door quietly clicked shut.

********

Harry breathed in his lover; breathed in the scent of his hair, the scent of his skin. He was lost momentarily in Draco's hazel eyes.

//We need to talk to Morgan, Harry. She needs to understand this.//

Harry silently agreed and reluctantly broke their contact. As he started toward the door, he stopped and turned, quickly closing the distance between the two of them and sealing it with a heart-stopping kiss.

//Gods, I love you, Draco.// Harry separated from the blond again and walked to the door, flinging it open.

"Morgan! Morrrrgan! We need to talk." Harry called down the stairs. There was no answer. "Morgan?" Harry opened her bedroom door.

Draco shook himself out of the reverie of that kiss and entered the hallway. "Morgan! Come on...I have something to show you."

Harry was making his way down the stairs still calling for the child. There was no answer at all. No sign of her whatsoever. He threw the front door open calling to her. Still, nothing. Draco ran from inside the house and smacked into Harry's back. Sheer panic flooded him and raced through their link into Harry.

"Her robe is gone. Oh, gods, Harry, I can't lose her again. She's gone. She's gone..." His breathing was erratic as he ran back inside the house calling her name over and over.

Harry looked up and down the beach and quickly scanned for any signs of magic. There were none. The small boat was still tied at the embankment; she hadn't used it to go anywhere. If she had gone into the sea, there would be no way of knowing. The water dissipates magic too quickly for any residuals to be located. He ran to the back of the cottage and scanned the path and the rolling fields between the low stone walls. Still nothing.

Think, Harry, think. Draco's madness was filtering too much of Harry's own thought process out of his head. There was no way to concentrate and try and come up with a way to locate the child. Harry stormed back into the cottage to find Draco nearly at the point he was in the memory. The blond was on his knees screaming her name at the top of his lungs.

"Draco!" Harry grabbed the shoulders of his lover and stood in front of him. Draco shook with his sobbing and muttering.

"DRACO! STOP! I can't think! You have to stop!"

"She's gone, Harry...she's gone...."

Harry fell to his knees in front of Draco, wrapping his arms around the breaking man. "We'll find her, love. I promise. But you have to calm down so I can think. Shhhhhh. We'll find her."

Between sobs, Draco managed to speak; "You don't understand. I can't lose her again. I can't."

Harry held him closer and rocked him slightly. "I know. I know. Shhh...just calm down so I can think. Calm down. Calm." As he said this, he released a calming spell over the blond. Draco's shuddering became deeper and slower breathing. Harry stood up and helped Draco to his feet.

"There, now. Where could she have gone, Draco?"

The blond wiped his face with his fingertips. He let out a long, slow breath. "I don't know."

Harry led Draco to one of the couches and made him sit. He walked to the fireplace. There were no signs of travel by Floo Powder. "When did you last see her?"

The blond ran his fingers through his hair. "Just before I came into your room. I left her sitting down here at the table."

"Were you two talking?"

"Of course we were talking, Harry." Draco treated the questions in such a way that Harry felt ridiculous.

"Can I remind you that this is what I do for a living, Draco? You should know...you've been in my head for the last several years."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry. I thought perhaps you would be a little quicker about it seeing as how she is our daughter and not some crazy evil wizard you're trying to send to Azkaban."

"That's really unnecessary, Draco." Harry's blood began boiling. His temper was flaring under his cool exterior.

Draco stood in an instant. "You don't need to patronize me, Potter."

The two men stared seethingly at each other, much the way they did while in school. The note from Hermione popped into Harry's head reminding him of his temper. //Oh, Draco, let's not forget who we are.//

In an instant, Draco backed down and sat on the couch once again. //I'm sorry...//

Harry exhaled a long breath. "What were you two talking about before you came to my room?"

Draco thought for a moment. "We were talking about you. I was trying to convince her that you didn't kill her mother. She seemed almost convinced, so I told her to hold on for a minute while I went upstairs to get you."

Harry nodded. "How long were you in my room?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe five minutes. Eight at the most."

Harry thought it was much longer. Perhaps lost in the moment, it seemed longer. "What else were you talking to her about?"

"Her mother. Mostly you and her mother." Draco ran his hands over his face again. "Damn it! Where would she go?"

"Her mother is buried on this island?" A light had gone on in Harry's head.

"Well, not exactly...the island's almost solid rock. She's in the cemetery, though."

Both men were on their feet and reaching for their cloaks. They were out the front door of the cottage instantly and headed up the path to the center of the island.

"I checked the path for her signature, though, Draco. There weren't any signs of her."

Puffs of white breath trailed behind them as they walked. "It can't hurt to try."

The gravel crunched underneath their feet as they strode. The salty sea wind whipped over them, although it felt as if it were going though them. They walked close together, Harry unable to, for even a moment, allow Draco to be too far from him. The madness he suffered when Draco left was too much to handle again. He wasn't sure, though, how much he could trust him after all of this and kept his mental distance for the time being. He supposed Draco had a pretty good reason to leave the school, but he didn't understand why Draco hadn't told him about Morgan from the beginning. The child was his too, after all.

As they pushed forth against the howling gales, Harry tried to remember all the interactions he'd had with Morgan, from the first time they met on the platform. She seemed so pure that day, so sweet, so...not like she was now. Grainne as well. She had said she didn't know anything of the magical world. And she had convinced Harry of it!

"Draco..." Harry started. The winds kept the blond from hearing. //Draco...//

The blond looked sideways at Harry. //What is it?//

//The letters I read...in your memory...//

Draco began walking faster and let out a long breath. //What about them, Harry?//

//Well, I was just wondering if you still had them. I mean...I would like to...// He really didn't know how to ask what he wanted to know. //Did Grainne ever see those letters?//

//I don't know what this has to do with finding Morgan.// The blond was walking at such a pace that Harry found it difficult to keep up with him. //I don't think so. She may have gotten through the wards on my room, but for those letters I used ink only decipherable to you and me. To her, they would have looked like blank parchment.//

Harry thought about the memory Draco had given him. What had Grainne said? She had said she could break the wards on Draco's room and that she knew about all of it...about Draco loving him....about...//Draco, do you remember your dreams from then?//

//Merlin, Harry. Right now I can barely remember my name. I just want to find Morgan.//

The cemetery was now in view. The low, criss-crossing walls became lower and lower until they disappeared altogether. On the top of a low-rolling hill were ancient burial mounds alongside the newer mausoleums. Very few people were actually buried underground, as the island was made almost entirely of dense rock. The sparse population led to an eerie emptiness in the cemetery. Where few people live, few people die.

Draco had gotten quite a bit ahead of Harry and walked directly to Grainne's marker. It was in a fairly lonely area of the cemetery. Four other markers sat in line before Grainne's; all with the name "Wolfe" carved ornately on the markers. They were all women's names, the first being Giselle. All the women lived to be approximately thirty years old and all appeared to be the mother of the next.

Harry looked carefully at all the names as he stood next to Draco. The blond stepped closer to Grainne's marker and traced the Gaelic text under her name with his finger.

"Chomh sean leis an cheo agus nios sine faoi dho." The words filled Draco's mouth like the stone island he was standing on. He placed his hands flat against the stone mosoleum and let his head fall forward so his chin rested on his chest.

"Did you love her?" Harry was now standing several feet away looking across the island to the sea. His heart ached as the words fell from his mouth and blew behind him to Draco's ears.

The blond stood motionless with his hands on the cold stone.

"That was her in the picture I found in your book, wasn't it, Draco? The two of you standing in front of the cottage..." His words trailed off, becoming heavier with every syllable. A chill ran up his spine. With new-found strength, Harry continued. "I suppose she gave you the book, too."

Draco's jaw tensed at every statement Harry made. His hands made fists against the stone of the mausoleum and he closed his eyes, squeezing his eyelids to shut out any light.

"You know, I met her at King's Cross. She was quite charming, Draco. I can see why..."

The dark-haired man's words were cut off before he could finish them. Draco spun in his spot and faced Harry. "Shut up, Harry. For once in your damn life, SHUT UP!"

Harry's eyes were wide with shock. He hadn't seen Draco this way since school. Not even then...he was always so collected.

The blond's eyes were fierce as he advanced. He stopped short of knocking Harry over but stood chest to chest with the man. "This has NOTHING to do with you or with Grainne or with anything you might think. My daughter is gone for the second time in my life and I can't bear to lose her again." His chest heaved with fury.

"But I thought she was our daughter, Draco." Harry raised his eyebrow slightly, his chest heaving in unison with Draco's.

"She won't be yours until you can get over all this shite, Harry. I won't let you near her until I can trust you. And right now, I can't trust you because you won't believe anything I tell you!"

"But, Draco..."

"No, Harry. Stop. Forget I brought you here. Forget everything I've shown you...the memory, the letters in it....everything. I thought you might be ready for me, ready for Morgan....ready to let go and fucking grow up...but I see that I'm wrong." Draco stepped away from Harry and turned to leave.

Harry stood, slack-jawed as he watched Draco walk down the path and head toward the cottage again. He felt their link go dead and, for the second time in as many days, he let the only man he truly loved walk away.