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A MALFOY MYSTERY


Lucius had a hangover. A very, very bad hangover.

Lucius had no experience with hangovers, probably because he'd had no
experience of being really drunk before either. It would have been a
very stupid thing to do. If you were a Death Eater and faced
Voldemort on a near daily basis, you damn well made sure to keep your
head clear at all times.

But Voldemort was dead, and the Death Eaters gone, partly thanks to
him. After all, it was he who gave them the information of where the
madman had wanted to make that final attack. Thanks to his last-
minute betrayal, all the forces that the Ministry could call upon
were waiting there, turning the perfect attack into a disaster. That
was what the party at Hogsmeade had been about, and that was why he
had indulged in a glass of punch. Except that there had been more
than the one glass, there had been several of them; and then Severus
had made a toast with him, feasting Voldemort's death with exquisite
wine, and Lucius had feasted with him for at least a bottle of it.

The half-giant had his own brew with him, and he was very generous
with it. "Liquid Fire", he called it, and never had a name been more
fitting.

After that, things were decidedly becoming blurred. He was sure he
had toasted with almost everybody, drinking whatever they were
having. Firewhiskey, butterbeer, fine cognac, single malt, exotic-
sounding cocktails, a plethora of booze.

All of them were now leaving a poisonous residue in his body
chemistry, and he felt what every truly hung over human felt: a
solemn resolution to never get this drunk again, or even better: to
never get drunk again, period. The hammering in his head, the
horrible taste in his mouth, the dehydration, the sick stomach, the
amnesia, oh gods the amnesia, who knows what he had said, what he had
done... nothing could be worth this amount of suffering.

He had a nagging suspicion there was something he really, really
should remember. He carefully opened one very light-sensitive eye and
tried to figure out where he was. He already knew he wasn't home: he
was sure there wasn't a single cotton sheet to be found in the entire
Manor. The half-opened eye could inform him of little more while he
was lying down, only a vague impression of chaos; and an affirmation
that direct sunlight was indeed painful.

Trying not to upset his troubled stomach any further, he sat up inch
by inch. Ouch. That wasn't his stomach protesting - not too much
anyway - but another part of his anatomy. Now that wasn't known to be
a part that suffered when one had a hangover, he was sure.

Adding the new pain to the state of the room, and of the bed, he came
to the inevitable conclusion that he hadn't come here alone.
Everything indicated that he had sex the night before, and with
another man, if the state of his arse was to be believed. He
swallowed, checked the bed again for company. Nobody.

Lucius didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted. It would have
been nice to know who had shared his bed, and to have found out what
exactly they had been doing (although the state of his arse gave some
indications about that), and perhaps go for an encore. For the one
time he had a one-night stand, he would have liked to enjoy the
memory. Sadly, the whole thing had been swallowed by an alcohol
induced black hole. Damn, and his body was signalling it had been
good sex too, he felt very relaxed and slightly worn out.

Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it now, he should
consider it a temporary madness, keep his secret liking for male
lovers hidden again, and thank Merlin Narcissa would never find out.
She'd dump him faster than a hot coal. And, should anybody else have
knowledge of his peccadillo, they'd better keep their mouth shut, if
they knew what was good for them.

Narcissa hadn't been happy when he arrived home later the day after
the party; pale, clothes in disarray, and in a foul mood. Her shrill
voice, nagging about what people would say, and the damage done to
the Malfoy name, and the bad example to Draco... Lucius felt a strong
desire to die instantly, or go deaf, or get a drink. Since he could
have none of those, he "yes, dear"-ed her until she had finished her
rant, and went into the manor, in search of a headache potion

Two months after the party, he was standing naked in front of his
mirror. There was no way he could deny it any longer. He never had
been any good at lying to himself, and he wouldn't succeed now
either. The ongoing vomiting, the darkened and swollen nipples, the
funny eating habits, the slightly rounded belly no matter how many
sit-ups... Lucius was no idiot, he knew what it all meant, and he knew
he was in trouble. Literally. He was pregnant. He cursed his Veela
legacy; somehow the old blood was so strong in him he could get
pregnant without any help of potions or spells.

His mind in turmoil, he got dressed and went to his study. This was
bad, very bad. Thirty-nine was a fine age, nothing wrong with it, but
it was old, perhaps too old to have a first pregnancy. There might be
all kind of difficulties, the risks were so great. To top it up, once
anybody found out, he'd be on his own. The laws were clear and very
stringent; there was little room for mercy on a person who was
pregnant of an illegitimate child. It was even worse for him: by
getting pregnant spontaneously, he had given proof that the non-human
genes were dominant in his body, and such things were not allowed,
not for the last couple of centuries. He would be an outcast,
something less than human, there would be an automatic and immediate
divorce, the estate would go to his heir, and he'd have to fend for
himself.

Hiding was impossible. Firstly, no matter under what rock he crawled,
Narcissa would have him found. Secondly, due to his age, and part-
Veela physique, he really needed trustworthy medical help with his
condition. The best he could do was try to make a little stash for
the inevitable day of disgrace, but he'd have to be oh so discreet.
Nobody could find out, or he'd have to return everything. Mentally,
he made a list of things to sell discreetly, of accounts that could
be carefully siphoned... it would never be enough to sustain himself
and the child. The job at the Ministry would be lost too, they did
not approve of "loose morals" as they called it. His contacts would
be useless; the proof was undeniable this time. He would have to find
another job, with a less choosy employer. Perhaps he'd even have to
go for a Muggle job.

He wished, not for the first time, he knew who his lover for one
night had been. If he had a name, he could demand support from him,
at least financially, if he wasn't inclined to help him otherwise. As
it was now, all he could do was hide his condition as long as
possible, squirrel away as much as feasible, and hope for the best.

Draco was his downfall. The boy didn't mean to harm him, quite the
opposite, he only worried about his father when he found him vomiting
out his breakfast. Lucius had tried to convince his son that it was
nothing, really, only a slight case of the flu, but the boy had taken
a fright seeing him so sick. He was adamant, and literally dragged
him to the family mediwizard. Perhaps he should have gone earlier,
but each day he could postpone the discovery, he could put a few more
galleons in his stash. He had been frightened to wait so long though,
it might have hurt the child, and his Veela instincts told him
nothing could be allowed to harm his offspring.

He knew then and there his respite was over. Desideratus Forrest was
no fool, those blue eyes noticed everything. Lucius tried to prevent
the inevitable, by the Gods how he tried. But the doctor, influenced
by Draco's panic, didn't fall for his theatrics; a full examination
it would be, nothing less would do. He steeled himself, prepared for
the verdict.

Desideratus told Draco to leave them alone for a moment, convincing
him his father was quite healthy, he hadn't found anything life
threatening, he only wanted to talk to his old friend in private
about the tests. Once the door was shut behind a reluctant Draco, the
doctor erected heavy privacy wards before he spoke to the waiting
man. "How, when, and who, Lucius?" The kindness of the question broke
Lucius' hormone-weakened resolve, and he was reduced to tears. He
told his trusted doctor his sorry tale: the party, the many, many
drinks, the one-night stand with the stranger, and his own suspicions
about his condition.

"You know I have no choice but to let the Ministry know, Lucius. I
really am sorry you know. Things will be very difficult for you,
having no support at all. I promise you one thing though: I will help
you medically, no matter what. Once you find yourself settled in your
new life, let me know where I can find you, and I'll visit you at
least once a month. For the birth itself I can't help you, you will
need a midwife for that, but I will contact some people I know to
make sure you get the best without having to worry about the cost."

Lucius thanked his old friend sincerely; it was more than he had
hoped for. It would not only mean that his little stash of money
would stretch so much further, but also, and more importantly, that
his health would be monitored by someone he trusted. He did have some
questions: what to expect in the following months, would he keep
getting morning sickness, was it normal that he had these wild mood
swings? Dr. Forrest answered his questions patiently, and gave him
some folders he could read for more details. Morning sickness should
abate, after the first three months with pregnant women, but it
tended to last longer with men. He would gain weight, not overly much
the first months, but it would be at least thirty pounds in his case.
The mood swings were unavoidable; he should blame the hormones for
that. Since he had started with a very male hormone balance, being
pregnant would seriously upset it; he could expect bouts of crying,
unreasonable fears, giggling attacks... Lucius was aghast.

Draco took the news rather well, it turned out. He only had to be
told four or five times before he believed the story, and once he did
believe it, he became all business. He would be in charge of the
entire Malfoy estate once the Ministry knew about Lucius' condition,
and he agreed with his father things might go a bit easier if Lucius
taught him all he could before that. They both knew Narcissa would
throw her husband out the moment she discovered his pregnancy, her
pride wouldn't allow for anything less. She would disregard all
practical drawbacks, and they both wanted the change of management to
be as smooth as possible.

They hurried home again; there was so much to do in so little time.
Lucius taught Draco as much as he could, as fast as he could. They
embezzled some ore money from the estate, but they couldn't overdo
it, the books would be checked, and rather thoroughly Lucius
suspected, later. There was one thing he could do, and he did it:
Draco "invested" in a rather high-classed flat in Muggle London,
quite close to the Leaky Cauldron, and swore his father would always
have a roof over his head. He also promised he'd try to send him
further financial support if he could get away with it, but since he
legally still was a minor, there would be a lot of outside control
and that would be complicated.

Lucius was moved that his son, who he always had considered rather
cold-blooded, would risk so much for him, and his tears, ever ready
these days, flowed freely as he thanked him.

Another reason for gratitude was Forest's delay in reporting the
reprehensible pregnancy to the Ministry. Lucius had expected to have
one or two days respite, and hoped for a week at the most. Instead he
had a full ten days before the dreaded call came.

Lucius was having his breakfast, still feeling a bit queasy from his
bout of morning sickness, and gnawing some dry toast, when two young,
serious men came calling. They would not be stalled by a well-meaning
house elf, and were waving some very official looking scrolls. Lucius
dropped his toast; he didn't like the dry stuff anyway. The visitors
summoned all humans and house elves, and proceeded to read Lucius'
fate from the opened scrolls. He had disgraced his bloodline, and
insulted his family. He had bodily seduced one, or more, unknown male
or males. Medical proof had been given of dominant non-human
physique. He no longer was worthy to lead a family. From now on, his
wife could consider herself officially divorced, his son an orphan.
He would be removed immediately from the family properties for now
and always, he was to take with him only his strictly personal
possessions. He would not claim moral or material support from the
new head of the Malfoy family, Mister Draco Severus Ariel Malfoy. His
unborn child was now and would ever be excluded from the Malfoy
bloodline, and not entitled to any possible heritage. Etcetera,
etcetera. They ended with a sanctimonious lecture about family
values, and traditions, how he had broken with them all, and how that
made him the epitome of decadence and inhuman depravity.

Lucius turned to his ex-wife and ex-son to see how they were taking
the news. Narcissa screeched, Draco smirked. He ignored the shrill
voice shouting insults more suited for the madam of a brothel, and
smirked back at Draco. He asked one of the young Ministry
representatives if he might be allowed to fetch some of his clothes.
The sturdier of the two followed him everywhere, to make sure he got
his clothes, and nothing more than that.

He plundered his wardrobe, packing all of his most expensive pieces.
He figured that, while there was little chance he'd need to wear
them, they would make a pretty knut at any second hand shop. And so,
into his trunks his silks and furs flew, but when he grabbed the
little chest of accessories, the Ministry man started acting up. He
had to convince him that it would be difficult to wear a cloak
without clasps, or a shirt without cufflinks before he let Lucius
keep them.

He wasn't so lucky with his watches and jewels, though, and neither
could he convince him that he needed his walking sticks. He grumbled,
getting very angry with the man and his unfair refusal, and ignored
the official's command to not take the sticks. He grabbed his all-
time favourite, smashed it violently against the wall, and retrieved
his wand from the splinters. Lucius touched the dented silver
snakehead, the gesture a goodbye to his past life. He dropped the
metal and walked away.

He didn't stop walking until he was well past the wards. He turned to
the two Ministry wizards, and coldly told them their presence was no
longer desired, they had done their duty, he was no longer on Malfoy
ground. They wanted to apologize, tell him they only did their job,
and they had some advice, and possible help to offer, if he only
would name the father of his child... Lucius cut them short, led them
to believe he just didn't want to tell them. They spluttered
objections, it was all very noble of him to protect his lover, but he
was guilty after all, and... Lucius glared them into silence, turned,
and disapparated.

He dropped his wand on a table, sat down on a fake leather coach,
took out his shrunk luggage, and felt his anger give way to a feeling
of loss and despair. He then had a nice long cry, sitting alone in
his Muggle apartment, clutching the remains of his former life in the
palm of his hand.

Molly Weasley was not a happy woman. The boy was worrying, and
wouldn't let her know why. He wouldn't even admit to the fact that he
worried, but she knew better. Funny thing was, she had the impression
he actually wanted to tell her, but didn't dare to. If she didn't
know him better, she would believe him guilty of some crime. The idea
of Ron being a criminal was too ridiculous for words, there was
something else going on, and she swore on her hat she'd find out what
it was exactly. Sooner or later.

Ron was staring out of his bedroom window. Pig had been gone for days
now. He started to think Egypt was too far for Pig, that the little
owl was lost. Still, what else could he have done? Once again, he
went through his reasoning. Bill had boasted he had spent a wild
night with Lucius Malfoy. Three months later, the scandal of Malfoy's
pregnancy was smeared all over every paper in Wizarding Britain. The
timing was correct, and Lucius was known as a bit of a puritan,
nobody could claim he even knew about Malfoy having an affair. Ron
had fished the Prophet out of the trash, torn off the front page,
folded it and sent it to Bill. With Pig of course, Erroll was too old
and weak, and post office owls too expensive.

Ron sighed, he only hoped Pig was smart enough to take a rest now and
then. He turned away from the window; this waiting was getting on his
nerves. Perhaps some flying would take his mind off things.

It took Pig two full weeks to return, exhausted enough to let Ron
catch him immediately for once. He was carrying a short note. "Don't
tell anybody - I'm coming home as fast as I can - Bill" Ron stared at
the scrap of parchment, reading it over and over again. Trouble.
There would be problems. He had hoped Bill was just boasting, but no,
Bill believed Malfoy's child was his, and Mom and Dad would give him
hell about it, and... Ron fainted.

When Molly walked into her kitchen to get dinner started, she saw her
youngest son lying on the floor, and that hyperactive ball of
feathers posing as an owl fast asleep in her sink. Ron was clutching
a message in his hand. So he had received a letter, and fallen
asleep. No, not asleep, make that fainted. Perhaps this was the news
he had been waiting for so anxiously for the last weeks. She pried
the note from his fingers, and read it. It made no sense to her: why
would Bill come home? What didn't he want Ron to tell? Ron was still
out cold, so she started to shake him until he came to.

Awake him she did, eventually, but she got no answers from him, no
matter how she nagged, wheedled and finally threatened him. She only
gave up when she realized her youngest was easily every bit as
stubborn as she was. And besides, she had to get dinner started. It
would have to wait until Bill got home.

Bill was exhausted when he arrived. He had been working almost round
the clock to finish his assignment once he had received Ron's
message. He then had Apparated long distance, completely draining
him, and now he faced the difficult task of telling his family why
exactly he had hurried home. He sat at the table, dully staring at
the food his mother had insisted on, knowing he might hurt his family
with what he had done. How would they react to a non-human in-law? He
believed they would accept it, but things wouldn't be easy. He
decided there was no easy way of telling them, so he gathered his
courage, and blurted out: "I believe I'm going to be a father soon."

After the first moment of shocked silence, everyone - except Ron, of
course - started yelling questions and demanding explanations. He had
feared it would go like this, this was a fairly normal Weasley family
reaction to anything unexpected: all of them screaming at the top of
their lungs, never giving the bringer of the news any chance to
explain himself. He normally would have waited until things quieted
down, but he was too tired to do so now. He took out the crumpled
front page, with its picture of a smirking Lucius, and the fat
capitals uncovering the scandalous pregnancy. He pushed it to his
father, and successfully drew his attention to it.

Arthur looked down, recognized the article immediately, and turned an
unbecoming shade of greenish white. He nudged his wife, indicated the
article. She too recognized it at a glance, and fell silent, after
passing the paper to Charlie. Gradually, as everyone saw the article
and they realised what Bill was trying to tell them, silence fell in
the crowded kitchen.

"Do you mean that you and Malfoy... his child... but how? when? and why,
Bill, why?" Arthur sounded bewildered and slightly hurt, seeking to
understand what had driven his son. He didn't want to let his
prejudices get the better of him or make any assumptions, and waited
for Bill to explain his actions. He needed to know, deserved to know.
He listened with an open mind to Bills story: the wild partying at
Hogsmeade after Voldemort's death, his meeting with a drunk and very
seductive, flirting Lucius Malfoy. Bill himself had been far from
sober, and even farther from restrained, and he had eagerly responded
to the older man's invitations. He had soon discovered that, for all
of his worldliness, Lucius had never had sex with a man before, but
seemed eager to find out about it. They had taken a room, and Bill
had introduced Lucius to new ways of enjoying his body. It had been a
wonderful experience for both men. Not wanting an awkward farewell
scene in the morning, he had left once Lucius was asleep. He had
hoped Lucius would contact him afterwards, but had left the
initiative to him - after all he was married, and Bill didn't want
him to get into trouble. When he had heard nothing, he had supposed
Lucius wanted this to be just a one-night stand and accepted it.
Until he got Ron's message.

He sighed; he didn't know what to think anymore. Did Lucius hate him
for that night of passion? Had he told himself the young man was too
flighty, too air headed to be depended upon? He asked his family's
help: he wanted to find Lucius, find out why he had never contacted
him. He wanted this child to have two parents. He hadn't planned on
his lover getting pregnant, but he would be happy to bear the
consequences. He had even spoken to his employers about his
situation, needing their approval for his unforeseen need for his
absence at work, and they had given him their full support. Of
course, he wanted to find his lover and unborn child. Of course, he
needed to support them. Of course, he would want to marry him - and a
raise surely would be welcomed if he had to finance a family. Bill
had been touched; he never expected the goblins to be so
understanding. Apparently, they thought humans were very stupid with
their racial laws. They had said "If you can have children together,
you ARE the same race, or close enough that it doesn't matter."

Arthur thought carefully what to say before he reacted. This was not
the time for flaring temper. This was his son, struggling with a
strange situation, hoping for his help in doing the right thing. So,
he had told his bosses he wanted to marry the man. He was right, of
course, that would be the honourable thing to do - but the honourable
thing wasn't always the same as the right thing. Did his son believe
he could be happy with the man he had only known for a short, drunk
night of passion, did he think he could make the other happy? And,
first and foremost, how would he find them? Malfoy seemed to have
disappeared from the face of the earth, nobody had seen him lately.
He seemed to have taken his condition badly, as was to be expected
from someone raised as a traditional pureblood. He voiced all of his
concerns, and assured Bill he would help him as much as he could - as
would the rest of the family. After all, he grinned, the little one
would be his first grandchild, and he intended to spoil it rotten.

After that short moment of levity, they went back to serious things.
How would they find Malfoy? And once he was found, how would Bill
convince him he did want him, and his unborn child? No matter what
had happened to him, a Malfoy was a Malfoy, and his pride might
prevail on his common sense. Everyone started spouting ideas, but
they soon had to admit they didn't know how to go about it. On one
thing they did agree: Malfoy had hidden among Muggles somehow, there
wasn't a trace of him in the Wizarding society. In the end it was Ron
who had the best idea: since they had so little knowledge of how
things were done with Muggles, they should ask his friend, Hermione.
She was muggleborn, and very smart too. She would know what to do. He
would call her on the telephone - an owl would take too long.

A detective. A professional snoop. Somebody who got paid to find out
what somebody else wanted to find out. Marvellous invention, really.
The one Hermione had contacted, had done a thorough job. He delivered
an address, told them he rarely got out of his apartment, only to
visit a nearby tea-room, and stated that the man clearly had no bad
habits he could find proof of, and hardly any friends. He described
the people he had seen visiting him, one clearly his son, the other
one an older, eccentric-looking gentleman, whose identity was
completely unknown. They shouldn't be bothered by those visits
though; they came at regular intervals and could easily be avoided.

Bill decided it would be best if he went to see Lucius alone.
Storming in with all of the clan might be a bit overwhelming, and he
wanted to put the other man at ease, if nothing else. He believed
that even him alone barging in could be a shock to a pregnant person,
so he thought of how he could prepare the man for his visit.

Lucius was eyeing the young Muggle with some suspicion. Why was he
bringing him flowers? He didn't know the boy, and certainly had not
ordered flowers. They were beautiful though, and smelled heavenly. A
note was stuck into the bouquet, he saw. Perhaps some sort of
explanation, then. He accepted the flowers, got rid of the boy after
tipping him, and first of all read the little note. It wasn't signed,
but he had no reason to believe it wasn't real. His one night lover
had been abroad for his job, and had only recently heard of his
condition. He had returned as fast as he could, and would like to
meet again. He would like to talk things over, and if Lucius was
agreeable, would be glad to take his responsibilities. While he could
hardly make promises of undying love after the short time they had
spent together, he hoped they were both adult enough to be at least
friends. He hoped Lucius wasn't too angry with him, but he would
understand if he wanted nothing to do with him. Should he consider
wanting to meet him, he'd be at the Leaky Cauldron that evening. If
he preferred not going to a Wizarding pub, he could leave a message
at the bar saying where he did want to meet him.

He was early, wanted to be early. It gave him time to choose a
secluded table, and try to drape his coat loosely around him, hiding
his swollen body as much as he could. He stared sadly at his cup of
tea. He could have used a stiff drink to ease his nerves, but that
wasn't good for the baby. Besides, not only did he have a strong
dislike for Muggle spirits, he would prefer to deal with his unknown
lover sober this time.

A second cup appeared on the table before him, put there by a long,
heavily freckled hand. Lucius raised his eyes, having already an idea
of at least the family name of his lover. Weasley. Of course. Who
else would get a man pregnant first time around, even if said man had
Veela ancestry? He wondered which one it was, and shuddered at the
thought it might be the one who was as old as his son. Or, even
worse, the one he had seen scurrying around at the Ministry. Oh good,
it was none of those. He didn't believe he had met this one yet, he
surely would have remembered. Favourably. Tall, elegant, handsome in
an unconventional way. It was reassuring that being drunk didn't
lessen his standards. If he really needed to take a male lover, this
was definitely someone worthy of him.

"I had a black-out" he found himself blurting out. Now why did he say
something like that? Damned hormones. It was true of course, but
there had to be more elegant ways of describing it. He swallowed,
ploughed on with his story. " I awoke the morning after, and pieced
together what had happened, but I couldn't remember with whom. I
didn't mind too much, it felt like I had had a very good time, if
only I could remember it." His expression darkened. "That was before
I discovered the consequences, of course. I had hoped that somehow
somebody would contact me, and especially after the whole media
thing. When that didn't happen, I thought you wouldn't want further
contact with a non-human. I thought I'd have to raise the kid by
myself, and I have been very angry, but I soon calmed down. Anger
doesn't agree with the baby, he starts kicking me. I wasn't looking
forward to it a lot, but I had resigned to my status as single
parent. And then, your flowers came, and I had hope again. Tell me,
did you mean what you wrote?"

Bill nodded, of course he meant it. He proved it immediately, pushing
a rather worn velvet-covered box in the other man's hands. Lucius
opened it, and saw two antique golden rings in it. "If you'll have
me, of course" the younger man said, blushing through his
freckles. "You don't know me, after all, and I'm sure you could do a
lot better than me. But yes, I did mean what I wrote, and I'll say it
again: I want to get to know you better, and I want to be a part of
your life. I want to help you as much as I can, be there when you
need me, when our child needs me. I do remember that night, and what
we did, and I assure you it was beautiful. I believe I could easily
love you, and I also believe you could learn to love me too. I know
you have been cheated out of your family, and I would offer you mine -
they'll welcome you, all of them."

Lucius studied his face, and found nothing but honesty and kindness
in it. It would be very different, but not hard, living with such a
man, and his decision was easily made. He had one question left; his
pride would not allow him to trick the young man into marriage. "But,
don't you mind? I mean, you know now I'm part Veela, and reactions
will be very unkind if you marry somebody non-human. Also, with you
being a Weasley, and me being what I am, I doubt if this one will
remain an only child... " The face before him became even kinder, a
freckled hand came to rest over his. "Don't ever think like that
again, Lucius. You are part Veela, but that doesn't mean you don't
have feelings, or are any different than the night we met. About
other people's reaction, my family will accept you, my bosses won't
fire me - they're goblins, and think our racial laws are ridiculous
anyway, and as for the rest of the world, I don't care a fig. And
about more children? You know us, Weasleys, the family device should
be "The more, the merrier"... Now, with that out of the way, will you
marry me, or do you have any other problems?" "No. I'll do it. I will
marry you, but only on one condition. You really, really must tell me
your first name..."