(A.N. I'm on a roll here! Can you tell? The other Weasley's will be coming in soon, in case anyone is wondering, so rest assured, I have not forgotten about the rest of the red haired clan. But, while you wait, Enjoy.)

Chapter Twelve- Forgiving Friends and Plotting Parents

The ministry of magic was void of people. After hours, most times, it had not a single soul between its old walls. Only a few late-workers ever stayed, and even then, it was only until about nine. All considering it was about nine thirty now, it was unsurprisingly empty once more.

Well, save for a few people in the very back, three friends gathered around a small office desk, one with the name of 'Arthur Weasley' on a gold plated name-tag. Naturally, it wasn't Arthur Weasley sitting there, red hair and all, but his youngest son, one Ron Weasley and his girlfriend, Hermione. Across from them, an almost jovial smile on his face, Harry was doubled over in laughing, face red with joy.

Once he had regained his composure, still red in the face, the black-haired boy looked to his friends, obvious love on his face, a lazy grin at his lips. "I've missed you guys..."

"Oh Harry, we've missed you too. It's just not the same without you here." Hermione unconsciously took Ron's hand while talking, drawing strength from him as she spoke. "So much..." her eyes shone with unshed tears as she glanced to the floor.

The reminder of what Harry had left behind for other to clean up brought shame to the boys face, shoulders slumping and smile disappearing in a second. "I'm s-"

"Mate, it's okay. We're okay. We've been over this, you needed to go. We understand, alright?" For once Ron reassured the other boy, rather than the nodding girl at his side, the honesty on his face almost making Harry believe such things, only completely swayed when Ron said the next sentence. "And even if people don't like that you left, we still like you, so who cares."

"OH!" Hermione shot up at the mention of Harry's brief period of running away. "Did you hear? Malfoy's been declared innocent, because, y'know, you're back Harry. Did you hear about that? How everyone blamed Malfoy? It was horrible. I didn't think he did it. And neither did Ronald," she jammed her elbow into the red heads ribs, causing the ginger to nod his head in agreement with her. "No-one would listen to us either; they just...sort of attacked him. An-"

"And the slimy git ran away. We didn't hear anything about him until a few weeks ago; he came strolling through Diagon Alley like the owned the bloody place. Bloody git." Red eyebrows creased down into the center, holding their place as he dwelled over the memory, leaving out the fact that they had also seen the blonde going into a very popular Nursery Store. Damn Slytherine was probably planning on attacking the shop once it was full of children or something...

Of course, neither of them noticed Harry's reaction. The smaller male glancing down at his lap nervously, biting his lip in order to stop from crying again. Draco was okay. He was okay and normal and okay, and that was all that mattered...right? It should be all that mattered, anyway. Harry couldn't help bunch his fists together in obvious anger. That fucking bastard, of course he was okay. What the fuck else would he be? Stupid blonde, all he wanted was a good go in the bed for a while, and then leave. He didn't love him. Draco didn't love Harry, who was he fucking kidding?

"Harry...?" Hermione's concerned voice broke through his thoughts, green eyes snapping up just to meet her soft brown ones. "Are you alright?"

"The hell he's alright! Bloody Draco Malfoy isn't in prison, when he should-"

"Ronald!" Sighing, the female turned back to the other boy with Ron nursed his bruised ribs once more, a scowl on his face. "What's wrong...?"

Looking to them with big green eyes once more, Harry sniffed, looking dangerously close to crying. "I know..." his voice was thick, lips trembling as he spoke. "I know about Draco..."

Moving from her seat, Hermione went to place herself on the desk beside Harry, gently taking his hand, despite her confusion. "What do you know...?"

"He...he's been staying at my house. He came stumbling in seven or eight hours after I did! And he was...he was covered in blood and got...b-blood all over my house..." taking a shuddering breath here, the boy closed his eyes, recalling that night. "I took care of him...we took care of each other...Oh god, Hermione..." with a sudden, quick movement, he had his face buried in her shoulder, the glamour dropping out from around his stomach, showing a pregnant belly, six months in, bulging out from underneath his shirt.

Ron was the first to gasp, eyes growing quite wide in disbelief and denial. "Harry...is that...that is..."

Pulling from his friend, said boy shook his head at Ron, tears rolling down his face, "No...it's not...it's not Draco's...but he thinks it's his."

"Then who's...?" Hermione let her sentence go unfinished, sharing a concerned glance with Ron.

Shuddering, Harry pulled his legs up to his chest, suddenly looking very small, and very alone. "I can't tell you!" His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the tone was oh-so loud in such a small room.

Moving around the desk, Ron joined them at Harry's other side, Hermione setting a hand on the smaller's shoulder, just to show her support. "Harry, you're my best mate, whoever the father is...we won't judge you. I promise."

Looking into his friends eyes, the smaller nodded quietly, sniffling as he did, leaning in close to whisper in Ron's ear. "T-the father...the father is..."

(The next morning)

"Draco," Narcissa's voice sailed over the house, drawing out the blonde hermit from within his room. The blonde woman in question was currently sitting at the end of her dining room table, a glass of wine set before her, and the newspaper to the side of that. Her platinum hair was set up in an elaborate bun, decorated in several delicate pins. Her slim body was downed in a black dress, the color of a widower, of course, since her husband might as well have been dead, all considering he had gotten the Kiss while in Azkaban already.

"Mother," Draco stepped smoothly into the room, dressed in much shabbier sweatpants and t-shirt, feet bare and hair untamable. "Is there something you needed?" He ignored her sneer at his choice of clothing, far too comfortable and lazy to change now.

Without answering verbally, the Lady of the Manor simply pointed towards the newspaper, drawing Draco's attention to the picture on the front. A picture that very nearly took his breath away. How someone had gotten a hold of something like that, the male did not know, but whoever they were, he wanted to kill them. In a blurry, almost grainy sense, was Harry, sitting in an office somewhere in the ministry, a very pregnant Harry with his two friends on either side of him, obviously crying at something, while Ron looked rather horrified and Hermione confused.

The title wasn't even worth reading as Draco threw the paper to the floor, just about ready to sprint across the house to the front door when his mother's voice stopped him once more. "Draco, sit down." He did, albeit unwillingly, "I do not know what conspired at that house or how you feel about hi-"

"I love him,"

"Do not interrupt me, Draconis," he fell silent, even going as far to look ashamed of his outburst, "As I was saying, I do not know what happened, or why, but whatever is happening in this picture is none of your business." She took a sip of her wine, looking her son dead in the eyes all the while, stopping any protests he had. "Simply because you left that house. Do not regret you decision now, because it has been done, but make it to your advantage. You are a Malfoy, child, do not forget who you are." He stood to leave, in a more graceful manner than before, almost to the door when the woman spoke again. "And don't forget who that baby is, Draco. Do not be ashamed of its existence."

"I'm not-"

"Go. Your childish behavior giving me a headache."

And with that, Draco left the room, Narcissa returning to her wine, a small smile playing at her lips.