55Chapter 9: ADAIG 3: Revelations
As Dark as It Gets, part three: Revelations.
"You … what?"
Harry could not quite make Draco's words form any sort of meaning inside his head; it was simply too unbelievable to even grasp. He watched his lover as he began to shiver and protectively embraced himself.
Draco looked at him with that stunned look again. "I killed Voldemort, Harry. That night when I cursed you. I killed Voldemort."
The words were finally starting to sink in. Harry blinked. "You killed Voldemort? What do you mean?"
"I … when I brought you down for your fake ceremony, Voldemort was there to witness your demise. Don't you remember that, Harry? He was there together with the Death Eaters; he was standing right next to my father."
"He was? I don't … My memory of that night is a bit fuzzy."
"Well, he was," Draco assured him, "he said he wouldn't miss it for the world. You know, when I was … supposed to kill you. But then when I remembered everything … I went berserk, remember? And I killed them all, every single one of them, all the people that were present. And I killed Voldemort together with them."
Harry wanted to believe Draco, but there was still something that spoke against his story. "But, Dracums, it's impossible to kill Voldemort. He's too strong. Not even the Avada Kadavra curse would be enough to kill him."
Draco laughed bitterly. "Oh, you didn't see me that night, Harry—I was mad. Totally deranged. I was so furious that you were dead, so agonised … With all those emotions flying around inside me, I was more than a lethal weapon, Harry, and it was as if all the ancient powers gathered within me and gave me extra strength, so when I used the curse it became much more powerful than it ought to have been. I killed thirty of them in one hit."
"Thirty! Thirty?"
"Yeah, thirty. And the Dark Lord himself was standing right up front to have the best view of your execution. I killed him, Harry. And when I thought I had lost you, I buried him together with the others in our backyard, down by the lake. No-one ever comes there, so I figured no-one would ever find them if I put them there."
They were both silent for a while. Then, Harry said, "I need to tell Dumbledore about this."
Draco swiftly sat up. "You can't—they'll arrest me!"
Harry simply shook his head. "No, in that case they would have arrested you long ago. I told Lupin about your little Death Eater killing spree, and he was very impressed. He told Dumbledore about it as soon as he saw him, I am sure. If anyone wished to arrest you, they would have done so already. I need to report this to them."
He started to get up from the sofa.
Draco grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and held him back. "Wait! You're not in the Order anymore, you have no obligation to report to them!"
"I know, but I think that anyone who has information about Voldemort's death should report in to them, don't you agree?" he pointed out soberly.
Draco sighed and let go of Harry's sleeve. "You're right, of course. But please at least let me come with you."
"Certainly. I was just going to ask you."
"You're just saying that."
"No, I'm not. I don't want you to be alone in this house with Tom around—I don't trust him. He's been acting real strange around you the last couple of days."
"So you've noticed?"
"How could I not? Did you get the Floo powder when you went to Diagon Alley?"
"Of course I did. It's right there by the fireplace." Draco pointed at the large pot hanging from the wall next to the open fireplace. They grabbed a handful each and travelled together to the old Black House in London.
They emerged from the fireplace in the basement kitchen, and two people were currently in the room. Lupin was sitting at the table, just as he had done when Harry paid him a visit three weeks ago, almost as if he had not left it at all. Mad-Eye Moody was pacing up and down the small room, looking anxious and agitated over something. When Harry and Draco appeared before them, they both jumped, but the shock gave away pretty quickly. "Ah, Harry," Lupin said with an amused smile, "I take it that you made up, then?"
Harry frowned. "What? Oh, that. Yes."
Mad-Eye came at them with a furious look in his normal eye. "Potter! You can't just burst in here through that fireplace every time you feel like visiting! What if someone followed you?!"
Harry felt as if he was shrinking. "Sorry. It just seemed to be the best way of travelling here at the moment," he apologized. "And it's important that we speak with Dumbledore, so have you any idea as to when he'll come here next?"
Both Lupin and Mad-Eye seemed utterly surprised by this.
"Dumbledore?" Lupin echoed.
"What do you want with Dumbledore?" Moody asked suspiciously.
"It's quite a delicate matter," Harry said quickly, "and I don't want to convey too much about it without him present—he has to hear this first-hand."
Moody looked as if he was about to say something else, but was interrupted before he could even begin by a shrill mewl from Draco. Harry looked at him. Draco was holding his hands to his stomach, grimacing in pain, pathetic little squeals escaping him at regular intervals. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, and swiftly put his arm around Draco's back.
"I … I don't know … it hurts … What's happening to me?"
Harry helped him into a chair. Anxiety and concern made him dizzy; what if Tom really had done something to him? What if he had fed Draco some sort of slow-working poison that was slowly killing him? Maybe Tom had come from the future to rid the world of them, not ask for their help, and he preferred to watch them being suffer instead of simply killing them on the spot?
As if from some distance away, he could hear Mad-Eye Moody say: "He's not a werewolf, is he?"
"Don't be stupid!" Lupin replied incredulously. "And even if he was, how is he supposed to get access to the full moon from a windowless basement? Really, Moody!"
Moody snorted. "I am simply considering all the possibilities …"
"I would say that you're not," Lupin retorted.
"Would you two please be quiet?" Harry urged. Then he gently took hold of Draco's chin and lifted his face to force his lover to look at him. "Dracums? Are you all right? What happened?"
Draco was shivering and panting, his eyes closed.
"Dracums?"
"It hurts …" The two words were merely a pathetic whisper, and Harry had to strain to even hear them. Even more anxious now, he turned to Lupin and Moody. "Do you have any potions or spells that can tell whether a person has been poisoned or not?" he asked them with urgency in his voice.
Lupin rose from the table. "Yes, I believe we have something here …" He started to search through the many cabinets in the kitchen until he found a small bottle containing a sickly green liquid. He poured a glass of water and let three drops of the green fluid fall into it. He gave it to Harry. "Here, give him this. If he burps green bubbles after drinking this, he's all right."
Harry took the glass. "And if he doesn't?"
"Then we need to get him to St Mungo's immediately, because there is no way of knowing what sort of poison he's been given. We would need Snape for that."
Harry nodded. His hand shaking considerably, he put the glass to Draco's lips and helped him drink most of the spiked water. Almost immediately, Draco began to cough up great amounts of greenish bubbles. Harry let out a sigh of relief. He had not been poisoned. But then he went rigid with anxiety again. Because if he had not been poisoned, then what in the world was wrong with him?
Draco began to breathe more normally again. He looked up at Harry, and his silver eyes were dark with exhaustion. "It's passed," he told him. "I feel okay again. Or, well, as okay as I have been feeling these past few weeks. Maybe I've just caught some kind of virus."
"Some virus," Harry said, and kissed Draco's forehead. "You scared me, you bloody bastard! Don't ever do that again, all right?"
Draco smiled faintly. "I'll try."
Moody let hear some sort of disapproving grunt when Harry kissed Draco anew. They both looked at the older man with raised eyebrows. "What has the world come to?" Moody was muttering to himself. "Boys kissing each other! What will come next?"
Lupin laughed, and the boys joined him. Then, suddenly, Lupin fell silent. He was looking in the direction of the doorway. Clearing his voice, he said, "Dumbledore."
Harry and Draco turned towards the doorway. The Headmaster of Hogwarts stood there smiling amusedly at them all. Then he winked at the boys. "I hope I'm not disturbing," he said, and entered the room. He sat down opposite Draco at the table.
Harry swiftly got up from the floor. "Dumbledore, we have something important to tell you …"
"So I've heard," Dumbledore interrupted.
"You have?"
"Word spreads quickly these days. So, what is it that you wish to tell me?" He looked at the two boys with warm curiosity.
Harry looked at Draco. The blonde nodded. He would be the one to tell their old Headmaster. Sticking out his chin in a most Malfoyish fashion, he said, "I killed Voldemort." There was no need to sugar-coat it or to try to tell them in a dismissive manner; better to just say it straight out.
Lupin and Moody were completely taken aback by the bluntness of Draco's statement, but Dumbledore simply regarded him with solemnity. "May I ask you how this happened?" he inquired after some seconds of quiet pondering.
Draco shamefully told him about everything that had happened that night three weeks ago, and he could not look at Dumbledore when he recounted the occurrences at Malfoy Manor. Harry held his hand to give him support. "So, you can show us to the grave, then?" Dumbledore asked when Draco fell silent.
The blonde nodded slowly.
Dumbledore rose from his seat. "Then I suggest we leave immediately."
Moody looked stricken. "What? But you can't just go out on a field trip like that, Albus! It's too dangerous! You don't know if these boys are telling the truth!"
Dumbledore fixed his eyes on Moody's good one. "I would trust Harry with my life. He has shown me great loyalty over the years, and I wouldn't think something that low of him. Harry is not a liar. And if our young Mr. Potter trusts Mr. Malfoy here, I suggest that you trust him as well."
"Yes, sir."
"Now we shall all go the Manor and have a look at this grave, because Voldemort's body will be the only evidence we need to prove that he really is dead." He turned to the two boys. "And if what you say is true—that you indeed have killed Lord Voldemort—then the future will look much brighter for the magical community." He smiled pleasantly at them.
Even though Mad-Eye Moody seemed to be awfully reluctant to go with them, he stepped right up to the hearth and grabbed a handful of Floo powder for himself, then he gave Dumbledore a stern look and nodded slowly. "Then let's go."
Draco led the way through the garden behind the Malfoy Manor down to the lake and pointed out the place where he had buried the bodies. The earth there bore obvious signs of having been disrupted, so none of them distrusted him when he said that this was the grave. He explained to them that he knew many spells that moved inanimate objects from one place to another—even a few that would move living, mobile things—but that he knew of no spell that would magically make things disappear from the face of the earth, therefore he had resorted to burying the Death Eaters. It had been his only way of discarding of them fast. "If you don't believe me, you can simply call Piper here and she will gladly tell you that she caught me in the act," he mumbled somewhat absent-mindedly.
Harry clasped his lover's hand tighter in his. A shiver passed through his body when Dumbledore stretched out his arm over the grave and began to dig it out with his will-power alone. Even though he wanted that wretched, disfigured, horrific face to stare up at him the moment the dirt was removed because it would prove his lover's story to be true, he still wished that it would not, because he did not ever want to stare into those vicious, cold eyes again—even if they were now dead.
Limbs became visible. Black cloaks. Loads of them. Eventually, they saw the faces of Draco's parents and a few other Death Eaters that Harry recognised immediately; Dumbledore kept digging.
And there he was. The Dark Lord himself. Staring up at them with unseeing eyes. Doubtlessly, he was dead. Harry turned to Draco with astonishment written all over his face. "You … you actually did it! You actually killed Voldemort, Dracums!"
Draco was making a wry face of disgust. "You sound as if you didn't believe me," he reproached.
"I … I didn't know what to believe, I … I know that you would never lie, Dracums, it's just that … It's all so incredible," Harry tried to explain. "I believed you from the moment you told me, but there was still a part of me that needed to see it before believing it."
"I don't blame you," Draco assured him. "I wouldn't have believed it, either."
Footsteps could be heard from behind them, advancing on them fast. Ultimately, Tom stood beside them. He looked from Draco and Harry to the three—to him—strange men. "What's going on here? Whatchu up to?" Then he turned his gaze down to the grave and jerked, stumbling backwards in terror and shock. Holding his hand defensively in front of his face, he stared at them in utter fright. "What the Hell is this? What have you done?"
Draco finally seemed to regain at least some of his usual composure. "What's the matter, Tom? You look like you've just seen a ghost. I assumed you already knew about all this since you were so kind to point out that I ought to be chased down by the law? Wasn't that what you said to us the day you popped in?"
The three grown-up men looked at Tom with great suspicion. "Who is this young gentleman, Harry?" Lupin asked warily.
Harry snorted demonstratively. "I wouldn't go so far as to call him a gentleman," he objected firmly. "This is Tom, a guest of ours. He's kind of uninvited, but we have agreed to handle some business for him. Strictly friendly, I'd say."
Lupin regarded him with knitted eyebrows. "Really, Harry? Are you sure that you can trust him?"
"I'd say we're rather sure about that. Dracums and I are simply helping out a friend in need. Tom here seems to have a quite interesting bond to Draco's sister."
Lupin raised both eyebrows in apparent surprise. "Piper?"
Tom turned to the ex-Professor. "Oh, so you know Piper, then?" he asked with apparent curiosity.
"Yes, you could say we have a history together."
"Really? Then you must be … hmm, let me see … Remus Lupin, no?" Tom stated, sounding quite sure of his wild guess.
Lupin seemed even more surprised about that. "Yes, that is quite correct. And may I ask how you know Piper?"
The disgusting little sneer was back on Tom's thin lips. "Oh, you could say we have a history together," he said mockingly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some important business to attend to." He bowed, and made his way back to the Manor.
They all looked after him with dislike.
"Harry, I would advise you to keep your eyes open at all times where that man is concerned," Lupin said with concern in his experienced voice.
"I don't trust him," Harry said honestly, "and he knows I don't trust him. Just look at what he's doing to Draco."
Lupin frowned. "What of it?"
"Tom's to blame for Draco's upset stomach, I am sure of it. Maybe not because he's messed with him magically, but his mere presence makes Draco nervous and upset."
"I can certainly see your point. Look, if you ever have any trouble—of any sort—be sure to let me know, okay?"
Harry nodded.
They left five minutes later to agree upon the best approach when it came to informing the Ministry and the media of the Dark Lord's demise. The Prophet would be all over this story for a very long time.
And Draco would be their new hero.
Tom was waiting for them when they came back to the house, and his expression was not an encouraging one. He was regarding them with cold calculation and arrogant expectation, his arms crossed over his chest in a very annoying fashion. Draco wished he could have just punched him right there and sent him flying to the floor with a huge black eye and a few teeth less or something. But he restrained himself, telling himself that they must not provoke him, no matter what.
"So, you sent after Dumbledore, did you?" he stated, and his deep voice betrayed that he was very angry with them for doing so.
Harry approached him boldly. "Yeah, we figured that he ought to know that Draco rid this sorry world of the Dark Lord three weeks ago," he said challengingly.
"Really? Well, congratulations, Draco. That was quite an achievement. Although, I am sorry to say that it was in vain."
Harry flinched. "What? In vain? Are you stoned or something? How could killing Voldemort have been in vain?"
The smug sneer on Tom's lips broadened. "Because a new Dark Lord will step into the spotlight and take his place within short—you'll see, in time."
Draco was swiftly running out of patience. He took a step toward Tom. "Who the Hell are you? For every minute that passes I hate you a little bit more, and for every day that passes I get even more convinced that you're as evil as any man can be, so tell me: Who the Hell are you?"
To their surprise, Tom laughed—a demonic laughter. "You mean you don't recognise me? Really, Draco, you should have figured it out by now. But, well … I'll give you some more time to think about it before I tell you who I am."
"You little—!"
Two loud Pop!s could be heard even over Draco's furious growling, and two shapes materialised only a few feet from the three young men. Draco turned in the direction of the sound and momentarily forgot about the fight he had been picking with Tom. "What the Hell are you doing here?"
Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley stepped out of the shadows. Hermione went straight up to Draco and Tom, but stopped dead when she saw Tom's face. Baffled, she said, "Harry! You've grown so … grown … How could you age so much in just three weeks?"
Tom stared at her in puzzlement for a moment, then he pointed over at Harry. "I'm not Harry—he is."
Hermione turned in the direction he was pointing and instantly noticed Harry standing there.
Draco saw that Harry was furious about their unannounced visit; he was so angry he was actually shaking. He really had been serious when he told him he never wanted to see Hermione again, that he would never be able to forgive her for giving up on him. Not that Draco blamed him, but … maybe he was a bit harsh in the matter. "Get the Hell out of here and don't you ever come back again," he said with gritted teeth; his hands were clenched at his sides, and he looked as if he was prepared to smack her face if she took a single step closer. Draco wondered if he should stop him, but then he decided not to. This was something that Harry needed to figure out for himself.
Hermione frowned, hesitating slightly. "What do you mean, Harry? And who is that man? He looks like a perfect replica of you, only … older."
Now that she mentioned it … Draco had always thought that there was something awfully familiar about Tom. His black, somewhat messy hair and green eyes were the same as Harry's, and his body structure resembled Harry's, as well. But his attitude, his way of carrying himself … that was …
Tom bowed to Hermione and withdrew his wand from one of his many pockets. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said in mock politeness. "My name is Tom Malfoy, and I have come to claim what is rightfully mine. Sorry you had to come on such an unfortunate day, Miss Granger, but I can easily make the appropriate arrangements."
Hermione began to say, "What is he talking about?", but only got to the fourth syllable before Tom had pointed his wand at her and uttered the death curse. The smoggy green light hit her right between the eyes, and she fell dead to the floor. This time, she had no protection potion, so she was sure not going to rise from the dead again.
Ron reacted in the most peculiar way; instead of screaming in agony and kneeling beside her limp body as one might have expected him to do, or even to throw himself at Tom in pained fury and sorrow, he fled the scene and did not come back.
Draco simply stared at Tom in shock. They had been right all along; there was something fishy about Tom. He was evil. But he had said …
"Malfoy?" Harry wondered. "Tom Malfoy? But then you're …"
"No, not really," Tom interrupted. "I bet you were about to guess I'm Draco's cousin or something and that this whole coming-from-the-future-story was only a ploy—but you're wrong. I'm your son."
Everything went dark.
"Draco?"
When he came to again, he saw a fuzzy shape bent over him, and even though he recognised Harry's voice he could not make out his lover's features in the haze in front of him. When he was finally able to focus, he noticed that Tom was still standing by the armchair in the corner, looking just as smug as ever. Fearing for his life, he tried to sit up but felt too dizzy to even lift his head properly. "What's the matter, Harry? Why are you sitting here when he's still over there? What if he attacks you or something!"
Harry snorted. "Oh, I don't care about that—I'd much rather make sure that you're all right."
"I won't be all right if you get yourself killed, you fool! You can't survive the bloody Avada Kedavra curse thrice!"
"I know—but it doesn't matter anymore. See?"
"No, I don't bloody see. You're a bleeding moron, Harry."
"Thank you. Here, let me help you up. You fainted when Tom said he was—"
Draco stiffened. "Yeah …" He reluctantly met Tom's gaze. "A-are you really …?"
Tom laughed unpleasantly. "Yes, Daddy. I'm your son. Yours and Harry's."
"Our … our … forgive me, but I just find it hard to believe that we would ever adopt a kid as snotty and arrogant as you."
"Adopt! If only I had been so lucky! No, no, I'm your flesh and blood."
"Flesh and blood?" Harry repeated. "But how is that possible? I mean, isn't it quite obvious that Draco and I are both blokes?"
"Sure it is, but that doesn't mean anything, does it?"
"Doesn't … mean anything?"
Tom sighed irritably and sat down on the arm of the armchair. "Maybe you should ask Aunt Piper—she's the one who can explain this best to you guys." He snapped his fingers, and Piper immediately appeared in the middle of the room, accompanied by an orchestra of strings and harps. "Aaaah … isn't it just lovely to arrive to such a musical, magical miracle?" she asked them and sighed happily.
Draco threw a book at her. "You're so full of shit. Now would you please explain to me why you were hitting on my son the last time you were here?"
Piper raised an eyebrow in blank astonishment. "Your son? Tom, you mean? But I wasn't hitting on him. Where ever did you get that idea from?"
"Oh, I don't know … maybe from the way you were acting as if you had known each other two whole lifetimes and …" He fell silent as he realised how it must be. "Wait a minute! You knew who he was when you came here, didn't you? That's why you were joking with him and quarrelling with him in such a familial manner, wasn't it?"
"Of course I knew! I always mock my little nephew!"
"So, you knew but you didn't tell me!?" Draco yelled exasperatedly.
Piper yawned. "It was hardly the time to tell you such an important thing—the potion hadn't even started to work yet by then."
Draco flinched. "What potion?" he demanded.
Piper suddenly shot up from her chair. "Ah! That reminds me!" She conjured up some sort of odd-looking machine and handed it to him. "Blow into this."
He looked at it suspiciously. "Why? You're not going to poison me, are you?"
"No, don't be silly! Why would I poison you? You're my brother! No, this is simply a little machine I built to determine if my Priberty Potion works as it should. Just blow into it, Draco. If the lamp glows green it means you're positive and if it glows red it means you're negative."
She regarded him with impatient anticipation.
Draco's hand began to shake. "Po-positive for what?" he asked nervously. "What have you done to me?"
"Oh, just a little small tiny-tiny-tiny experiment, nothing big really. Now blow."
Against better knowledge, Draco put his lips around the tube-like thingy and blew. A whistle sounded and the little machine immediately began to spew greyish smoke. Draco dropped it in fright. When he bent down to pick it up from the floor, the whistle grew silent.
"It's ready!" Piper announced. "What colour is it?"
All four of them squinted at the tiny lamp on the machine.
Green.
Draco whimpered. "What do I have? Smallpox? Measles? AIDS?"
Piper laughed at his terrified expression. "Relax, brother! You're only pregnant!"
Draco's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. "I-I'm … What? But that's impossible! I can't be pregnant—I'm a bloke!"
His sister grinned at him. "Been feeling sick lately, Drakie-bums?"
"I … I …" Then it hit him. "My upset stomach …" He put his hands to his stomach, shaking with fear.
Harry leaned forward. "Dracums? Are you all right? Dracums?"
Shaking even worse, Draco met his eyes. "Don't you understand what this means, Harry? I'm … I'm carrying him inside of me. Him. I'm carrying a murderer inside of me." He ran out of the room, suddenly feeling as if he was about to throw up his guts.
Harry looked after him with concern in his green eyes.
"What's this about Tom being a murderer?" Piper inquired, nonplussed.
"He killed Hermione just now," Harry informed her, and was slightly disgusted with his own cold tone.
"Ah … yeah, of course."
Harry went rigid. "What? You knew about that, too?"
Piper looked at him as if he had gone mad. "Of course I knew about that—who do you take me for? I do manage Divination quite masterfully, you know. There is nothing I can't see in the future. You should know that by now, having known me for two years …"
"Besides," Tom put in, "it was inevitable. Didn't I tell you? Hermione wasn't supposed to see the day that the world was emancipated from the petrifying fear of Lord Voldemort—and now she won't."
Harry lashed out at him. "I know you said that! But that didn't mean you had to kill her!"
Tom grinned mockingly. "I thought you didn't care, father."
"I don't! That's what scares me! I don't care that my best friend of seven years has just been murdered by my supposed son!" Harry yelled at him.
"Not supposed—ascertained."
"Whatever. Anyway, how could this even be possible? I mean, Dracums is a bloke, so how on earth can he be pregnant?"
"That is rather easy to explain," Piper said in a know-it-all tone of voice. "I was asked to work out a potion that would enable women who couldn't have children to become pregnant by the Healers at St Mungo's. I agreed to do it, of course, because I can totally understand the many women who get depressed because they're not fertile or whatever. But when I was working on it I discovered something utterly interesting … If I altered the original formula somewhat, I would be able to make men pregnant, as well, not just women.
"So I developed two different potions. You can probably imagine how the original potion works, so I will only explain the Priberty Potion to you. That's what I gave Draco. Approximately three hours after digestion it will give the subject a sudden urge to … well, to copulate … and if the subject gets even the slightest trace of foreign semen in his system, he will become pregnant. The potion makes it possible for two sperms to fuse and form a foetus—one from the host body and one from the partner—instead of one egg and one sperm. So you see, the baby will still be a fusion of the two parents' genes. The potion also helps the tiny little sperm to travel straight into a free space in the subject's stomach and continues to work all throughout the pregnancy to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Then, after about nine months, when it is time for birth, the potion will signal to the subject that it is time by way of a whistle."
"A whistle?"
"Yeah, it sounds like a whistle, pretty much like the one you heard when the Priberty Measurer worked out Draco's test results," Piper went on. "Pretty clever, isn't it? I figured that Draco would be the perfect test subject for this potion since you two are so lovey-dovey. I have known all along that you two will be the best parents there is because you have so much love for each other."
Harry snorted and glanced sideways at Tom. "Yeah, well, obviously we weren't good enough, because look at the result of our parenting."
"Bah, I think he's a quite good result!" Piper said, and ran her fingers through Tom's raven hair.
"Oh, yeah? He just killed someone, for crying out loud! Is that what we're supposed to teach our children?!"
"Well, Draco killed sixty-seven people only three weeks ago …"
"But that was different! That was in self-defence! They would have killed him if he hadn't acted first!"
"Sure, but still—sixty-seven people …"
"SHUT UP!" Harry bellowed.
Draco returned from the bathroom, pale as a ghost and still very shocked and frightened. But there was also a surprisingly strong determination written on his face. He stopped a few feet from them, probably because he wanted to keep his distance to Tom. "I have made my decision now," he informed them indifferently. "I don't want this baby. Harry. I want you to help me find a spell or a curse or a bloody potion that will help me end this pregnancy, because I don't want to bring such an evil creature into the world."
Piper looked stricken. "But that means you're going to kill Tom!" she protested.
Draco gave her a cold look. Sparks of anger were shooting out of his eyes. "That is exactly what I wish to do. I don't want this baby if it's him that I'm carrying. I want to terminate this pregnancy."