Draco's unexpected visit leaves me feeling utterly confused. 

It doesn't feel right, even though Astoria has agreed for me to do whatever it takes to seduce him. Somehow, the fact that he did not expect anything in return unnerved me. 

But then... he was probably just thinking of his sperm. Marge did insist on ejaculation to be only every other day, and he was clearly taking his part in the process seriously. 

But then why offer to do that to me?

I cannot seem to look at him during dinner that night with his mother. I still feel flushed from the encounter, still not yet recovered after what his tongue had done to me only twenty-five minutes earlier.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Narcissa asks me as she hacks into her steak. "More shopping trips?"

I shake my head, cringing internally as I think of all those Ann Summers bags in my room. I really had been thirsty for Draco earlier.

"I was thinking I might visit my father, actually." I say casually. "It's been a while."

The sound of cutlery clattering to the table makes me look up. Draco is looking at me, horrified. "You go and visit him? After what he's done?"

I experience a spark of anger as I glare at him. "He's still my father, Draco. And he deserves my support."

Draco looks as though he could not agree less. "None of them do! They can all rot in there for all I care, especially Lucius."

"How dare you!" Narcissa splutters, looking furiously at her son. "After everything that man has done for you! It wouldn't hurt you to show the same loyalty to him as Harper does to her father."

"Oh yes, what a father," Draco scoffs, sitting back in his chair to angrily fold his arms across his chest, muscle pulsing in his jaw. "In case you have forgotten, Mother, he's the very reason I have this." He holds up his left arm as though we need clarification on what he is referring to. "He is the reason I cannot walk down places like Diagon Alley without being spat at!"

"Well if that's how you feel," Narcissa says angrily, "then maybe you should denounce the Malfoy name!"

"GLADLY!" Draco hollers, standing up so suddenly his chair topples back, loudly hitting the ground. And with that, he storms out.

I sigh. This is the third dinner I have sat down to at Malfoy Manor, and this is the third time it has ended with Draco storming out. I am starting to think that mother and son are incapable of getting through a single dinner without arguing. Family therapy, that's what they need.

Narcissa dabs at her mouth with her napkin as though Draco hadn't just made another scene. "Well, I think it's very commendable that you visit your father," she says. "Lucius and I have the greatest respect for Coriolanus Snow. You will send him my regards tomorrow, won't you?"

"Um, yes, okay," I say. Though the truth is, conversation with my father is useless since he's been driven mad by the constant presence of the Dementors. But I don't give up on him. He is all I have left since Dolores turned her back on us.

"Maybe you can even persuade my stubborn son to escort you?" she says, taking a small sip of her wine. "And he can finally start showing respect to his father by popping his head in his cell and saying hello."

Yeah. I cannot see Draco agreeing to that in the slightest. He clearly hates his father, and he clearly has good reason to. My father never forced anything like that on me. All he ever wanted for me and Dolores was happiness and health. He kept us safely away from all the Death Eater stuff. We had no idea he was an actual murderer until his arrest. But it did not stop me from loving the man who brought me up and loved me with all his heart.

Poor, dear Father.

******

September 1990 - fifteen years previously

"Oh, Dolores," I cry, burying my face in my sister's robes. "I can't believe you are going. What am I to do without you? Who will braid my hair now and play dolls with me?"

My sister laughs kindly, circling her arms tightly around me, making me feel safe. I do not want her to ever let me go and I cling to her so tightly. "It's just two years and you will be joining me, silly. And I promise I will write all the time, okay?"

I smile up at her through my tears. A hand lands on my shoulder, offering me comfort.

"Harper," my father's deep voice booms, "let your sister go now. Your turn will come soon."

I nod, sniffling as I let go of my sister like my father has asked and wipe the back of my hand across my nose.

"Now, now," Father says, removing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and handing it to me. "We do not use our hands."

I blew into it, stuffing it back in my own pocket. I try and stifle my sobs as I watch Dolores board the train, billowing smoke making it hard to make her out properly.

Long after the train disappears from view, my father doesn't move, still staring into the distance down the empty track.

I glance up at him, curious as to why we are still standing there. To my surprise, I spy a single tear glistening on his cheek.

I've never seen my father cry before.

*****

Present day, 2005

I shiver as the sound of clanging echoes all around me. I will my Patronus to stay close. I need it's comforting presence right now.

I follow the Auror leading the way to the door of my father's cell.

"Patronuses are not permitted inside," he states, as though I don't already know this.

I flick my wand, and the snow leopard disappears.

Taking a deep breath, I step inside the cell, trying to ignore the depressing chill of the dementors clutching at my heart.

"Father," I say, to the shriveled man in the corner with greasy long white hair. Hair that used to be raven like mine.

Slowly, he lifts his head, blinking as though the sight of me blinds him.

"Effie?"

This is the only thing he ever says. My late mother's name.

"No, it's me, Harper. Your daughter."

He starts to sob, like I knew he would. It's the same every visit.

"Effie," he murmurs over and over again.

I go and sit on the chair which has been put in place for visitors. Prisoners never use chairs. All they do all day and all night is curl up in a ball on the floor, sobbing against the wall, willing for death to release them.

"I've moved in with the Malfoy's," I say even though I know he isn't listening, too haunted by memories of my mother's death to even notice I am there. "Narcissa sends her regards, by the way."

I pause, wondering if my father ever used to do business at Malfoy Manor with Lucius. Was he there when Hermione was tortured? Or when Professor Burbage was killed and fed to a snake on Draco's dinner table?

I swallow the lump which has appeared in my throat and push down those thoughts as best I can. It's a little difficult in this place, though.

"I've got a new job working there," I continue, trying to keep my voice light. "Astoria, Draco Malfoy's wife, hired me to have a baby for them. Isn't that wonderful? It's well paid, too. Father, if I do this, I will be able to get our house back, and maybe Dolores will finally forgive us and come home."

Father doesn't even stir.

"It will mean I won't be able to visit for a while," I continue, trying hard not to cry. "It wouldn't be good for the baby being in here. But as soon as it is over I promise I'll be back. I'm not giving up on you, Father. I will do whatever it takes to get our family back together."

Still nothing.

Sighing, I get off the chair and walk over to him, crouching down on the floor next to him.

"How about I braid your hair, Father?" I say gently, reaching up to touch his long matted locks. "Like you used to do for me when Dolores left for Hogwarts? Do you remember that, Daddy?"

I close my eyes as pain hits me. I didn't mean to call him that, to call him the word I used to use when I was his little girl, before I lost him to Lord fucking Voldemort.

Slowly, he looks up at me, blinking again as his blue eyes study me. "Harper?"

I nod, biting back the tears. "Yes, Daddy, it's me, Harper."

And on that cold depressing cell floor, I braid my father's hair as we both gently weep.

*****