November

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend, and Harry refused to acknowledge the dull ache in his chest. There was nothing wrong with him. He didn't get sick. The pounding headache, however, was a little more difficult to ignore. Especially since a certain three-year-old was demanding his attention. Alessa's work of art was not to be ignored, apparently.

"That's wonderful, Alessa. But Daddy wants to rest for a bit, okay?"

"Sicky?" Alessa asked him, seriously.

"Just tired, love. Maybe we can see if Jamie wants to play, hm?"

"Yay! I call him?"

"No," Harry said, not moving from his position on the couch. "You're not allowed to use the Floo. I'll do it."

But Harry didn't make it two steps before he collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

"Daddy?" Alessa called. He landed pretty funny; maybe he's playing a game? she thought. She shook his shoulder, but he didn't open his eyes. This was usually the part of the game when Daddy would wake up and attack her with tickles, but he wasn't moving at all. Now she was getting worried.

Alessa went to the door and pushed it open, only to find Soran Snape standing awkwardly on the other side of it.

"Oh. Hi, Alessa. Is Pro…is your daddy home?" Soran asked quietly.

"Yeah, he falled," Alessa said.

"He fell? Is he okay?" Soran asked.

"He won't pway monster wiff me."

Soran walked in cautiously. "Professor Potter?" And at seeing Harry's prone body on the floor, Soran immediately went into action. He flooed Madam Pomfrey, who said she'd be there soon. Soran checked to make sure Harry was breathing (yes, but with difficulty), and had a pulse (it took a couple tries to find it, but it was strong when he did). He calmed down Alessa who, after seeing Soran panic, started crying herself. Madam Pomfrey asked Soran to stay with Alessa until the Headmistress was contacted, and they figured out what the best course of action was.

---

Minerva McGonagall moved with quiet deliberation down to Potter’s rooms on the second floor. She had just come from the hospital wing, and still had a disturbed look on her face. The fact that Poppy had no idea what was wrong with the young man was not a comforting thought. It was some malady that affected his lungs, but that was all she had to go on. Knowing Potter for too long, she suspected he’d been ill for longer than he’d let on. He was still unconscious, though, so now was not the time for a lecture.

McGonagall turned the corner and nearly ran into the blonde figure standing near Potter’s doorway.

“Professor, I’m sorry! It’s all my fault!” Malfoy spewed out before she could even recognize the young man. But when she did, her solemn expression turned into a glare.

“Malfoy, what are you doing here? I did not receive word you would be arriving; I thought we had an arrangement…” she said, firmly.

“I may have beat my owl here, there is probably a note in your office right now,” said Malfoy, wringing his hands nervously.

“Be that as it may, I have matters to take care of.”

“This is about Potter, right? He’s sick, isn’t he? I brought him wine, I think it may have been poisoned!”

“Poisoned? You…”

“No! No, I would never! I think it happened after I bought it; he did tell you I was captured by rogue Death Eaters,” Malfoy said anxiously.

“Yes, well…”

“I was coming here to make sure Potter hadn’t drunk the whole bottle, but he obviously has. I’ll be able to recognize it, if you let me in, so Pomfrey can find an antidote. Snape’s runt…err, child wouldn’t let me through the door, so…”

“Smart child.”

“What do you mean by that?” Malfoy said. He’d taken offense to that. He’d only wanted to help Potter. “I take offense to that tone! I’ve done nothing but help Scarhead since the war ended…”

“Relax, Mr. Malfoy, I was only commenting on the trustworthiness of young Mr. Snape. He was under strict orders not to let anyone in or out of these rooms except for myself.”

“Oh, well then…”

“Well then, indeed,” McGonagall said. She opened the door, and a shrill giggle erupted from one of the children seated in the kitchen area. A flash of golden brown curls attached itself to Malfoy’s legs.

“Maffoo! I miss you! Uppy!” Alessa demanded, and Malfoy obliged, lifting her into his arms. McGonagall watched them and saw Malfoy’s expression as he sighed in what seemed to be relief.

“My little princess, I missed you, too.”

It was quite odd to see Draco Malfoy’s demeanor change so drastically in the presence of this little girl, but it was also quite apparent that the two of them shared a bond. McGonagall regarded the scene before her, and took note. It was easy to ask Hagrid to take care of Alessa while Harry was indisposed; the little girl liked Hagrid well enough, but was quite shy around him, even with Harry in their presence. But before she could stop herself, she said, “Mr. Malfoy, do you have any engagements at the present time?”

“Please, Professor, call me Draco if you must. It sounds as though you are speaking to my father.”

“Draco, then. I was wondering if you’d like to stay and take care of Alessa while Harry is ill?”

“My Maffoo stay here wiff me?” Alessa said. She giggled then squirmed out of his grasp. As he set her down she took him by the hand and lead him to her bedroom. “Come, we pway tea pahty.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” McGonagall said, smiling. “Oh! One more thing, Draco…” she called into the bedroom.

Malfoy came out of the room and went straight for the second shelf on the top cabinet all the way to the right of the kitchen. He took down three or four bottles before handing one to McGonagall. There was barely enough wine left in the bottle for a glass. “I hope there’s enough,” he commented.

McGonagall walked toward the door, but Malfoy called out. “Professor, after I put Alessa to bed tonight, I was wondering if I could…”

“I will arrange for you to visit the hospital wing after hours.”

Malfoy didn’t meet her eyes, but still nodded his thanks. “Come on, Mr. Snape. I’m sure you have some homework to do.”

“Yes, Professor,” Soran said as he followed McGonagall out of the door.

December

The poison that wracked Harry’s body still coursed through his veins. Madame Pomfrey had never seen this strain of poison in all her years as a healer, though she had seen something like it before You-Know-Who’s reign. Unfortunately, there was no cure but to let it leave his system naturally. And doubly unfortunately, the poison was one that bound with a person’s magic as well. The poison made his magic wildly unpredictable, but doing magic was the only way to cure it. Almost like a magical bloodletting.

And so, Madame Pomfrey would not let him leave until he showed no signs of respiratory distress, and his magic was back to normal.

As Christmas neared, Harry feared that he’d never be able to leave the Hospital Wing. His magic seemed to be getting worse, not better.

“Lumos!” Harry cried, and bright orange feathers erupted from the tip of Harry’s wand. He growled in frustration. Alessa giggled as she was showered in feathers.

“Again, Daddy!”

“That’s it!” Harry cried, as he got out of bed. “I’ve had enough! My magic is done for, there’s no point in me even being here anymore, I’m going home!” Though Harry didn’t get more than a few feet away before he started wheezing and coughing so bad that he had to be led back to bed by Malfoy.

“Poppy!” Malfoy cried. “He’s done it again!”

Madame Pomfrey came bustling out of her office in a flurry, and did a few spells that seemed to get Harry’s coughing under control. “Mr. Potter, I cannot stress enough that you are still poisoned, and therefore still my patient! You are much too weak to be getting all riled up. Remain in this bed or I will bind you to it!” And with that, the matron left.

“’M not weak,” Harry rasped.

“Oh, of course not, love,” Malfoy taunted as he patted Harry on the head like a puppy. Harry quickly batted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me! This is all your fault anyway!” Harry said, half-heartedly. But he knew it still hurt, because Malfoy did feel tremendously guilty about it. “How come you didn’t get poisoned? You drank it, too!” Harry pouted.

Malfoy shook his head. “Dunno. The only thing I can think of is that you drank most of it. I only had a glass.”

Alessa yawned and rubbed her eyes. She lay her head down on the foot of Harry’s bed. Harry looked down at the sleepy child. “Are you keeping to her schedule, Malfoy? She’s dead on her feet. Did she have a nap today?”

“Hey, hey! What’s with the third degree? She just… didn’t sleep well.”

“What do you mean?” Harry pushed. “She’s never had a problem sleeping before! What is going on, Malfoy? What aren’t you telling me?”

Malfoy looked nervously down at Alessa and stroked her hair. Everything he’d work for, keeping Alessa’s lineage a secret, it didn’t matter anymore to him. They knew who Alessa was, and they were going to make a move soon, Malfoy could just feel it. Telling Potter would only cause him to worry needlessly, and could impede his recovery. “Nothing,” Malfoy replied quietly. “I was up late working and Alessa heard me. Just shut up and rest, Potter.” Malfoy silently played with one of Alessa’s curls, then suddenly got up and walked to the door.

February

Finally, at the end of the cold January month, Harry’s magic had finally returned to normal and he was able to return to his rooms with Alessa. Draco had actually done well in taking care of her, which Harry was quite surprised. Though, as Draco continued packing, Alessa was sobbing on the couch.

“Don't go! Daddy, make him stay!” Alessa cried.

“I’m sorry, love, but I can’t stay,” Draco said softly. “I have some work to do, but I promise I’ll stop by and visit soon.”

“Hmph,” Alessa pouted, and stomped into her room, slamming the door behind her.

“Alessa!” Harry reprimanded.

“No, no, it’s okay, Potter.”

“It bloody well is not okay. She was being rude.”

“She’s three and a half, Harry, what do you expect?”

“A little decorum at least,” Harry said quietly. “I’ll talk to her later. So, where will you go?”

Not far, apparently. Draco pointed out that since the Death Eaters were still plotting against him (and Harry and Alessa, he failed to mention), he’d be safest staying near Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. Somewhere his wards wouldn’t draw too much attention.

While Harry continued with his classes, Mrs. Weasley offered to come during the day to teach Alessa the things one would normally teach if she attended nursery school. Alessa was very bright for her age, knew all of her colors, numbers, and letters, and could even read a few words. And as Mrs. Weasley determined later, she knew more than she let on to Harry.

May

At the end of May, McGonagall had asked Harry if he’d referee the last Quidditch match of the season: Ravenclaw versus Slytherin. The conditions were perfect for a match, Harry thought, and felt a twinge of nostalgia for his school days as the Gryffindor seeker. The sun was out, but not blindingly so, and was usually hidden behind giant fluffy white clouds.

The Ravenclaws arrived on the pitch, and the crowd burst into a fit of applause as they took to the sky. Lysander Durkin, Ravenclaw’s captian, flew to the middle to meet Harry. The Slytherins took to the sky as well, and Soran Snape flanked to the right as Chaser. Harry made a habit of watching Soran whenever he was in a room. Unlike most of his Slytherin peers, Soran made it a point to be as different from his father as possible. Harry tried very hard to see past the crooked Snape nose and greasy black hair, but it was usually impossible to do. Something about Soran just wasn’t quite right.

Harry brought the whistle to his lips as the Slytherin Seeker, Fletcher Reese, rose to meet Harry and Lysander in the middle of the pitch.

“I want a clean match, gentlemen. No unnecessary roughness, is that understood?” Harry called out. Without waiting for a reply, Harry blew the whistle, and the pitch became a flurry of movement all at once. Soran caught a pass early on and the quaffle sailed through the left ring, right past Wesley Anders, Ravenclaw’s Keeper.

Nearly an hour into the game, and two things happened simultaneously. One, the Snitch was finally spotted near the Slytherin’s side. And two, a large salamander shaped Patronus slithered onto the field and right up to Harry. It spoke only five words in a harsh deep male voice – “Give me back what’s mine.” A whistle blew somewhere above Harry, and he took off towards the teacher’s stands, where Alessa was watching the game with Draco and the rest of the staff.

“Where’s Alessa?” Harry called out urgently from his broom. His eyes scanned the stands as he approached the stands, Alessa nowhere in sight. Harry jumped gallantly from his broom and into the wooden bleachers, crying out as his left ankle gave out beneath him. He didn’t care, though. He only had his daughter’s safety in mind.

“Malfoy, where’s Alessa? Where’s my daughter?” Harry bellowed. Malfoy looked alarmed.

“She’s right here, Potter. Relax. She’s under the bleachers with Jamie.”

Harry hopped down the stands and stuck his head underneath. Lo and behold, Alessa and Jamie were playing X’s and O’s, unaware of anything around them. Jamie was the one who looked up.

“Is the game over already, Professor Potter?” Jamie asked, and Alessa looked up at the mention of her father.

“Daddy?”

“Come here, love. We have to go,” Harry said, trying not to show any alarm. His heart, however, was beating so hard Harry thought it might burst out of his chest. But Alessa obeyed, getting off the dusty wooden floor and running up to Harry, jumping in his arms.

“Are we going home?” Alessa asked.

“Very soon, baby girl.”

“Wooditch is boring,” Alessa commented. Harry couldn’t do anything but laugh.

---

Ron leaned against McGonagall’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest. His face was a solid mask, which was unusual enough. Ron’s emotions usually played quite blatantly across his face at all times. But Harry couldn’t read him. Not this time.

“Why aren’t you trying?” Harry bit out softly. “Someone sent me their Patronus warning me to give back what’s theirs. That could only mean someone’s looking for Alessa. You’re not even going to try to find them?”

“Harry, we’re doing the best we could,” Ron offered. “Besides, if Alessa’s biological parents do come in and file for custody, well…” Harry put his hand up to stop him. He didn’t want to hear it.

“That voice was malicious. Whoever it was did not want to be found. I just…” Harry looked at the wringing hands clasped so tight in his lap, his knuckles turned white. “I just don’t want to lose my daughter. She’s the best thing…the best thing that’s happened to me since the end of the war. Hell, she’s the best thing that’s happened to me my whole life.” Harry looked into Ron’s eyes. “I will not have her taken away from me.”

And with that, Harry got up and left.

June

A week after the Quidditch match, Ron and the MLE had no leads to go on. “The Patronus could belong to anyone. There’s just no way to trace it,” Ron mentioned. Harry slammed the door in his face.

Malfoy offered no comfort either. “My sources are keeping mum about everything right now. I’ve got nothing, Potter.”

As term came to a close, Harry was finding less and less time to spend with Alessa, which she made sure to tell Harry every chance she got.

“Daddy doesn’t love me anymore,” Alessa sighed one morning, as Harry was about to leave for classes.

“Alessa Rose Potter! Don’t say that, please. You know I love you very much. Just one more week and we’ll have the whole summer to play together, okay?” Harry said, pulling the sundress over Alessa’s head.

“You promise?” Alessa asked. Harry tugged a hairbrush through her brown curly hair.

“Yes, I promise. Now, how would you like me to do your hair today?” Harry asked.

Alessa touched her nose in thought. “Mmm…Piggy tails!” she declared.

“Good choice,” Harry said, and he set to work.

---

Harry sat at his desk overseeing the third years’ exam, wondering what Soran Snape was thinking. The boy’s eyes were closed and he was hunched over his exam, quill down on his desk. It had been twenty full minutes and Harry was starting to wonder if the boy had fallen asleep.

“Snape!” Harry called out, startling the whole class. Soran, however, slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Harry.

“Yes, Professor?” he said softly.

“Bring your exam up here, please.”

Soran’s arm twitched a bit, but followed directions and meandered up to Harry’s desk. He handed over his parchment and turned around to walk back to his desk, but Harry stopped him.

“I didn’t excuse you. Why is your parchment blank?”

“I…don’t know,” Soran said, looking genuinely confused about the situation. “Professor, I’m not feeling well. May I go see Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry stared at him for a moment, trying to discern what he was thinking without Legilimency. Nothing, he couldn’t figure it out. So he waved his hand and Soran picked up his bag by his desk and ran out of the classroom.

October

Malfoy arrived at Hogwarts for Alessa’s fourth birthday party completely disheveled. He cast a glamour to hide most of the mess, healed a few cuts, and cleaned his robes with a charm. At least he was early this time.

Harry had been setting streamers and balloons all over the place when Malfoy walked in. Alessa ran up to him and nearly bowled him over, but he stood his ground.

“Oh, my princess. Happy birthday, darling,” Malfoy cooed. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Daddy said you might not come!” Alessa said. She hugged him tightly around the neck.

“Ooo, not so tight, love. I’m a bit sore actually,” Malfoy said quietly, hoping Harry wouldn’t hear.

“You come here with lots of owies. Do the kids beat you up at your school?” Alessa asked sympathetically.

“Princess, I’m a bit old for school, aren’t I? And why would you ask that? Is someone bullying you?” Draco asked seriously.

“No way,” Alessa giggled. “I’m the only kid in class, remember?”

“Ah, that’s right. Mrs. Weasley is teaching you, isn’t she? Are you learning anything then?”

Alessa nodded. “Loads. I can sing my ABC’s, wanna hear ‘em?”

“Ohh, maybe later, darling. The party’s about to start. Let’s go see if your father would like some help decorating, shall we?”

The guests arrived soon after, though Draco wished they’d all go home already. He finally found what he’d been looking for for years, and really needed to tell Potter about it without all these people. It wasn’t easy to get, either. Crawling through back alleys of filthy muggle establishments…

“Cake time!” Harry announced, and Alessa bounced up to the table as Harry lit the candles. They sang to her and she closed her eyes and blew them out.

Finally, as the party came to a close, and the Weasley-Granger couple were the last ones to leave.

“Potter, we need to talk. Privately,” Malfoy said as soon as the door closed behind them.

Harry looked at him for a moment, and finally breathed out, “You found something.” He told Alessa to gather her gifts and stay in her room and play with them while the grownups had a chat. After pouting a bit and pronouncing, “I’m four now! I’m almost grownup,” she finally took her leave and Harry put up the strongest silencing charm he could think of on her door.

“What is it? What did you find?” Harry demanded.

Malfoy reached into his robes and pulled out a bundle of papers, handing them over to Harry.

“The hospital that Alessa was born in. It took me ages to find the right one, and went through all the births on October 9th. Anyway, her mother was a muggle, by the name of Gracia Morgan. She gave birth to Alessa and 9 hours later took off with her. The hospital didn’t get a chance to complete the records since Gracia didn’t name her at the time. The other papers, however, are the more interesting of the bunch. Take a look,” Malfoy said.

“It’s a death certificate for Gracia Morgan. What am I looking for?” Harry said impatiently.

Malfoy pointed farther down the page. “Here.”

“Date of death was October 18th, cause of death was…”

“Heart attack…”

“But what’s so strange about…”

“Did you happen to notice how old she was?”

“Erm…20. I still don’t…”

“Healthy 20 year old women don’t just drop dead of heart attacks, Potter.”

Harry shrugged, looking over the papers again. “Maybe she had a heart problem.”

“I figured you might say that, so I got her medical records from birth. No health problems at all, save for a bit of myopia,” Draco said a bit forcefully. “She was murdered, Potter. Just after dropping Alessa off at your doorstep, if my calculations are correct.”

“You think whoever killed her knew she was pregnant? And now they want Alessa? But why? And who?” Harry said sadly.

“Well, that’s the problem I’m having. All of my sources have turned up dead in the last two months.”

Harry did the only thing he could think of, the one thing he’d wanted to do since this whole mess started. He burst into tears. He just wished it hadn’t been in front of Malfoy.

“God damn it!” Harry screamed in frustration. “I thought…I thought after Voldemort…”

“What, just because the Dark Lord is gone, you thought all the evil had vanished from the world?”

“No, but I thought they’d leave me and the people I love alone for awhile at least, you know?”

“Hm, can’t imagine what that feels like,” Malfoy said acerbically. “Being constantly attacked and judged because of whom you are. It must be the pits.”

“Yeah, well, I imagine you’re used to it,” Harry said softly.

“You never get used to fearing for your life or the lives of loved ones on a daily basis,” Malfoy said, reaching to wipe Harry’s face for him. Harry whimpered.

“Malfoy…”

“Yes?”

“God damn it, I fucking hate you,” Harry said impatiently, and launched himself onto Malfoy. Teeth clicked and tongues met, and for a moment Harry had forgotten the world around him. The only one in it was Malfoy, the one soul on this earth who understood him. Harry greedily pulled on him, pulled him down onto of him, and tried to remove his robe at the same time. When that obviously wasn’t working, Harry got out his wand and banished the damn thing across the room.

“Merlin, Potter. You’re pretty handy with that wand…”

“Less talk, more this,” Harry said, and he grabbed the back of Malfoy’s head and crushed their lips together again. It was angry, greedy, and the hottest fucking thing Malfoy had ever experienced in his life.

“Potter, I…”

“No,” Harry said between kisses. “Stay.”

“Yes, I…always. I’ll always stay if you ask me.”

“Forever, then. Don’t leave.” Me. Don’t leave us. That was the unspoken part, the part that was banging in Harry’s head since their first kiss last year on this very same day.

“Bedroom, then,” Malfoy suggested. He got up from the couch and pulled Harry to meet him. They kissed all the way to Harry’s room.

In the morning, when Alessa woke up, she found her Draco’s robes on the floor, her Daddy’s bedroom door closed (which it never was), and a bright smile on her face.

“Finally,” she said to the room. She rolled her eyes and went back into her bedroom to play with her new toys.

A/N: Admittedly, this chapter got away from me. It’s twice as long as the previous chapters, but a lot needed to happen. Hopefully, updates won’t be so far in between as these last two chapters. If anyone has any questions, comments, or concerns, please review! Reviews make me happy and want to write more. :-)