Legacy of the Fathers

Truth and Whispers

Notes: Yes, I know, I know. It's been a long time since I updated this (3 months, correct?) but life has been hectic beyond belief for me. I've moved twice, I've had friends visiting, then visited friends, I've graduated and I've been working full time in a job that ensures I am pretty much dead on my feet on my off days. I'm, presently aching from a nightmarish shift, so any inconsistencies in this can be blamed on that. Not that I'm making excuses, nope nope. : P

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"I hate this country."

Brown eyes rose from the sidewalk, where they had been watching their owner's sneaker-clad toes scuffing along the ground. "Hmm?"

Draco flashed an agitated look at Xander, scowling as he raised a hand to wipe sheen of sweat from his forehead. "This damnably marvellous country of yours, you twit," he replied, his tone snippy. "This oversized landmass filled with equally oversized blithering idiots and, of course, you. I despise it. I despise everything about it. It's crude, crass, filled with some of the most inconsequential, brain-dead imbeciles known to mankind and it's so bloody hot!" At Xander's faint smile, Draco's scowl only deepened. "And could you at least try to walk like something more advanced than a Neanderthal? I do have a reputation and an appearance to keep up and with sweating like a pig; it really is becoming quite difficult already without you making me look even worse than before!"

"Not feeling so good, huh?"

Draco stopped short beside him, turning slowly and deliberately to stare at the dark-haired boy. His silky hair was plastered against his cheeks, which were strangely flushed compared to their usual paleness. "Do you really want me to go mad, Snake?"

The wan smile on Xander's lips remained. "It's not really like it would make any difference, Ferret," he replied, to which Draco managed to find a faint grin, pushing his damp hair back from his cheeks.

"And if I may ask, Snake," the fair-haired boy said. "How the devil do you wear so many clothes," He indicated vaguely to Xander's numerous layers of shirts and T-shirts. "And Hestay on your feet in this weather? I've never been anywhere that more felt like an incinerator. Or Hell. I can't be sure which."

An amused look was directed at him. "This is a cool day for summer," Xander replied, suppressing a grin as Draco uttered a loud and very indecent expletive. "Not used to this kind of temperature, huh?"

"My God! Did my sweating buckets give it away?"

"Sarcasm, Ferret. I told you before and I'll tell you again."

"I know, I know. Lowest form of humour, but it still surpasses anything you have."

"Ass."

"Yes, I have one of them too."

Reluctant grins were exchanged as the two boys turned on the corner of a block, taking a short cut across the dried grass of a lawn, Draco making a somewhat impolite gesture when the owner of the lawn yelled through the window at them.

Xander shook his head. "You know that bugging the people who live here isn't a good idea, right?" he said, grasping one of Draco's arms and hauling him off the lawn and back onto the sidewalk.

"Snake, I survived your father, I survived my father and most importantly, I survived a month of Rayne's company. Do you honestly think that I'm going to be scared of a nice, normal South Californian granny?"

Xander laughed softly. "Well, I guess it makes sense, but can you answer this – did any of those guys ever keep a rifle under their bed?"

"Rifle?" Draco looked at him in confusion. "What's one of those?"

"A gun?" Xander offered, at which the frown on Draco's face only deepened.

"Um…"

"Don't tell me you don't know what a gun is," Xander couldn't help laughing aloud at the thought that someone like Draco did not know what a gun was, but the sound died in his throat at the look of embarrassment that crossed Draco's face.

"When you're raised by someone like my father," the wizard said, watching his feet as they made their way along the sidewalk, "there are a lot of things that you don't know about and, if that is a Muggle thing, then a gun is one of those things."

Nodding, Xander gave his friend an apologetic look. "Yeah, it's a Muggle thing," he said, raising a hand to run through his tangled hair. "It's a weapon. You… uh… shoot things with it."

"Like firing a spell at someone?" Draco perked up, starting to understand a little.

"Almost," Xander agreed. "But guns are made of metal and they fire bullet… uh… other bits of metal at people or whatever you shoot them at."

Beside him, Draco stopped walking and Xander turned to look at him, shocked by the look of revulsion and horror on the wizard's face. "You have weapons that fire pieces of metal into… people? To kill and maim them?"

"Uh… I-I guess so."

"My God," Draco whispered, shaking his head and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair again, as if hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing. "And you wonder why the wizarding world finds the Muggle world uncivilised when you use such a thing in this day and age! Our spells can be painful and deadly, yes, but firing metal into flesh without knowing just how accurate the results will be…" He shuddered violently. "At least our spells grant some measure of precision. That gun… thing is just cruel."

Heat rose in Xander's face, as if – for the first time – he was embarrassed by his Muggle-origins. "I never thought of it that way," he said quietly, looking away as they started to walk again. "It's the way things have been for years."

"Mmm."

In silence, they walked a little further, then Draco glanced at his friend, mopping sweat from his brow again. "And your Slayer," he inquired softly. "Does she use one of these gun-things?"

"Buffy? No. She uses older weapons."

"Older?"

"Crossbows, swords, axes… you do know what those are, right?"

"I'm a wizard, Snake, not a bloody imbecile!"

Xander chuckled at the older youth's tone. "Let me guess," he said, thrusting his hands deeper into the pockets of his baggy jeans. "You only know about them because of Monty Python?"

"Well, that is… sort of… maybe… true-ish."

"True-ish?"

"All right, all right," Draco groaned. "Yes, I know what those weapons are because of the Holy Grail, but we aren't that behind, you idiot. We do have such things, from the past of our world, when they were still Muggle-lovers and idiots. And to even think of your precious little Goldielocks using those kinds of things…" There was a snort of amusement. "It presents a very odd image to picture her armed with such weapons."

Xander's smile was lop-sided. "Just wait until you see her fighting. I never thought I'd see anything like it outside of an action movie."

"Good, eh?"

"The best," Xander replied honestly. "For her to survive this long as a Slayer, she has to be."

There was a long moment of silence, as they made their way down the block. Xander glanced at his friend occasionally, as Draco's silver-grey eyes roamed the street around them, his curiosity and half-masked fascination drinking in everything around him, the lack of magic doing nothing to put him off.

"You sure you want to do this, Ferret?" The blond looked at him, as they came to a halt outside a house that looked identical to every other house on the block, the look of bitterness and pain on Xander's features saying more than words could.

"I think the better question is do you want to do this, Snake?"

Deep in his pockets, Xander's hands fisted into tight knots. "I need to, Ferret," he said in a monotone. "I need to cut every tie I had with him. I just want to get mom's things and leave."

"And if he plays the stupid bastard, can I hurt him?"

Xander sighed, shaking his head, although he was hard-pressed not to smile at his friend's eager tone. "You don't have your wand."

"I don't need my wand, Snake. A blunt object would work just as well on someone like him." Draco replied evenly, coolly. "But any man who treats a woman like he did doesn't deserve a painless and precise attack by magic."

"You know, for a bad guy, you have a very weird way of looking at thing. It's almost good-guy-y."

"'Good-guy-y'?" Draco echoed, staring at him. "Snake, you're a freak of nature and one of these days, I will take great pleasure in double-crossing and betraying you in a vile fashion."

There was a pause.

"Did saying that make you feel better?" Xander asked, eyes glinting.

"Yeah, a little," Draco replied, smirking. He nodded towards the house. "Want to get this over with?"

"Better do it before I change my mind."

Side by side, they walked across the yard to the front door, Xander's face scored with trepidation. Both recoiled when the door was yanked open by Robert Harris, his jowly face red and his expression furious. His shirt collar was soaked in sweat, his thinning dark hair slick and dark against his scalp.

"You ungrateful son of a bitch!" Xander was caught by the front of his shirt and yanked savagely up the two steps that separated him from his stepfather. "Where the hell is your mom! I come home and she's gone without a word! If I find out that whore has been screwing around, then I'll…"

"Pardon me," Draco's voice interrupted, ice cold and civil. "But put him the hell down and get the hell away from us."

Not relinquishing his hold on Xander's shirt, Harris' dark, piggy eyes locked onto Draco's face, his expression growing darker. He seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that Xander's seemed to have tensed in his grip, his hands balled and his body shaking violently. "And who the hell are you?"

"Not someone you want to be on the wrong side of, I assure you," Draco sneered, his expression one of utter loathing for the man before him, stalking up the two steps and forcing Harris back with more strength than he looked like he possessed. "Now get out of our way."

Harris' bloated face purpled with fury, the hand that had been gripping Xander catching Draco by the shirt and pulling him closer, the scent of beer thick on the older man's breath. "Don't you tell me what I should and shouldn't do, boy!" he snarled, spittle spraying Draco's face. "Just who do you think you are to talk to me like this, you piece of shit?"

Silver-grey eyes stared at him contemptuously, Draco's upper lip curling in wordless distaste. "I wouldn't waste my breath or energy explaining my identity nor my presence to you, you self-absorbed, mentally-incompetent plebeian sot. Suffice it to say that you're going to get out of my way before you annoy me or," he nodded sharply towards Xander, who seemed to be panting for air, his eyes pressed closed, shaking hard. "Worse than that, my good friend Alex."

"What did you call me?" Harris' voice rose to a roar and Draco was physically dragged across the thresh hold, thrown hard against the door. Still, he didn't fight, his cold eyes never leaving Harris' face.

"You heard me, you inconsequential maggot," Draco's voice was ice-hard. "I saw your wife, you know. I saw what was left of her. I heard what you did to her. You think you have any right to call yourself a muggle, much less a human?"

"Had herself a screwtoy, did she? I'll kill you, you little bastard!" the man bellowed, pulling his fist back to launch at Draco's head.

Seeker reflexes honed by years of competitiveness in Quidditch with Potter dropped Draco quickly out of harm's way, almost ripping his shirt off his back as he pulled free. Harris' fist connected with the doorframe enough to shatter the wood, a howl of agony escaping the man.

Rolling casually onto his feet, Draco straightened up and smoothed down his clothing and hair as if nothing untoward had happened, as Robert Harris sagged to his knees, clutching his broken and bloody fist.

"You tore my shirt, you imbecile!" the wizard exclaimed, looking at the ragged rip that ran from his collar to halfway down his chest. Smoothing the fabric, he sighed impatiently and planted a solid kick to Harris' chest. "Bastard." Glancing out the door towards Xander, where he was leaning against the rail of the terrace, his head buried in his hands, the fair-haired youth tilted his head. "Snake? You all right out there?"

"I don't know if I can do this, Ferret," he said hoarsely. "I…"

"Snake!" Draco's voice was sharp. Stepping out, he hauled Xander into the house. "I just made your sodding step-father break his own fist! Come on! You come and kick him while he's down. It'll be fun!"

"What the hell are you doing back here, Alexander?" Robert Harris' voice was raw as he staggered to his feet. "Where the hell is your mother? Who the hell is this son of a bitch?"

"Don't you start on me again, you overweight tub of lard," Draco snorted, taking a warning step towards the man, who pulled back, glaring darkly at both of them.

"Ferret," Xander's voice was tremulous as he spoke, but harder than it had been. He touched Draco's arm, steering his friend to one side, the look of disgust on his face directed solely at his stepfather. "I think I should… talk to him."

"When you say 'talk', you actually mean 'rip the skin off him with a blunt spoon', don't you?" Draco inquired hopefully. Xander directed a pointed look at him and the fair boy raised his hands in submission. "All right, all right, let's not make a scene, though. Fat arse, into the living room." Harris glowered at him, but still jumped back several paces when Draco took a threatening step in his direction. Closing the front door, the wizard smiled coolly. "Thank you."

"You're not gonna get away with treatin' me like this."

"Shut up." Xander's voice was cold, quiet and hard.

"What did you say to me, boy?"

Dark brown eyes flashed furious fire. "I said," he repeated sharply, "Shut up! You think you have any right to talk to me about what we can and can't do here? After what you did to mom and me?"

"Your mom is…"

"Don't you talk about my mother, you bastard," Xander was shaking violently, his hands clenched by his sides. "She's dead." Harris, strangely, looked shocked and hurt by the news. "Yeah. Didn't know that, did you?"

"Cassie? Dead?"

"Dead." Xander confirmed hollowly, turning away, his fists whitened to the point of bone rupturing skin. "Because of my real father. The wizard."

Robert Harris' face drained of colour. Stumbling back heavily against the couch, he stared at the boy he had called his son. "She wasn't lying about him," he croaked, one hand rising to his throat, as if an unseen hand was throttling him.

"No. She wasn't lying." Dark brown eyes, full of loathing, rose from the floor and stared at Harris with an intensity, which would have sent most cowering. The aura of power surrounding the boy was palpable, even to the most insensible of souls. "And they gave that power they had to me."

What anger and confusion was left in Harris' round, sweat-gleaming face was rapidly replaced with fear. Backing away from Xander, he raised his hands. "Now, look, boy! Didn't I raise you? Didn't I put food on the table and keep you?"

"You make me sound like a stray dog," Xander didn't move from where he stood, his expression bleak. "You treated us like that. You had mom, the best woman in the world, and you treated us like that."

Standing several paces behind Xander, Draco glanced sidelong as a lamp on the dresser started to quiver. "Snake, you might want to calm down a little," he suggested mildly, taking a step towards Xander.

"Yeah," Harris nodded desperately towards Draco. "Listen to the blond kid."

The fair-haired wizard's lip curled. "Don't you ever refer to me thus, Muggle," he said coldly. "I'm only here to stop Snake from doing something he'll regret. If the matter was in my hands, your carcass would be rotting already."

"Draco."

Laying a hand on Xander's shoulder, the wizard continued to glare at Harris. "It's only because of you that he's still standing, Snake," he said quietly. "You just give the word and I'll do what I think he deserves."

Speculation passed briefly across the darker boy's face.

"Don't you dare!" Harris yelped frantically, looking from one to the other, his bloody fist pulled up to his chest. "You're nothing to do with me, Alexander! Just because your mother was a damn fool doesn't mean you can blame me! You or your boyfriend!"

"Did he just insult my taste?" Draco inquired, arching a brow.

Xander didn't seem to register the question, his jaw tightening, the muscle in his cheek twitching visibly beneath his skin. His whole body seemed to have gone rigid, his hands clenching and unclenching.

"Don't talk about my mom like that," he hissed, his features contorting, lips peeling back from his teeth.

"Um… Snake?" Draco tugged on the other boy's sleeve. "I'm starting to see why this might not have been such a good idea."

On the other side of the room, the television's picture was crackling, stripes of static obscuring the image. Beer glasses bounced and rattled on the table on the other side of the couch and, by now, the lamp was clattering violently, closer and closer to the edge of the dresser.

"You hurt her," Xander's voice was flat, strangely devoid of emotion. "You hurt her every time you even looked at her. I could never try to hurt you. You were so much bigger than I was." His hands flexed by his sides. "But not anymore."

"Snake, don't even think about doing it…"

"What? This?"

The expulsion of power and sheer, pure, potent anger rocked the whole block of houses to the foundations, the windows of the house blasted outwards from the sheer force of Xander Harris' emotions.

Standing amid the rubble of the living room, Draco brushed some chips of plaster from his shoulders. "Quite," he replied.

***

"The report just came in, sir. It was him."

"Are you sure that it has gone no further than our department?"

The Auror nodded. "Unfortunately, tongues tend to wag, sir, so we can't guarantee that word won't have spread. After all, wandless magic is bad enough in underage wizards, but in adults… it's so rare that it tends to make waves"

"Yes, yes, I know." A dismissive gesture sent the younger Auror from the elder's sight, the man sitting at the desk picking up the dossier containing news from the Western Seaboard, where the incident had taken place, less than… fifteen minutes before the file had reached him.

The boy was meant to be under constant supervision to ensure that things like those featured in this report did not happen, which meant problems had no doubt arisen for those keeping an eye on him.

The Head Auror exhaled, spreading his hand on the top page of the folder.

So far, they had managed to keep the identity and location of the Heir of the Dark Lord a closely guarded secret. However, if the boy kept behaving in the way he was now, then he would give himself away and the media frenzy would no doubt result in even more chaos than was already ensuing.

Curling his scarred hand into a fist, Benjamin Stone closed his eyes. He had hoped that with the wiping clear of the boy's identity, it would all be over, but now, it was clear that it was far from that.

Rising from his desk, he glanced to the massive map that covered half of his wall.

All of his life, he had avoided centres of mystical convergence, as many of their kind did, simply because of the intensity of the darkness there, but now… now, he had to go to one, of his own accord.

Of course, though, he would not be going alone.

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Author's Notes: Once more, apologies for the delay on this chapter. Like I said, life has been hectic. And yay! Ben Stone is back! There are no words for how much I adore him :D