3 - Fox Tales

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I looked down at my son's anxious face as I placed his Fox the Explorer hat on his head.

"It's okay," I said, crouching down to give him a reassuring hug. "Have you got Mr Dog?"

He held up a small hand, showing me the tiny silver Monopoly piece that sat nestled in his palm.

"Good boy, Jack," I whispered, curling my fingers over his so that we both held it together. "Remember that Daddy is always with you, looking after you just as I am."

He gave a small, frightened nod; his lower lip trembling as he sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm Fox the Explorer," he whispered, "not Jack."

"Okay, little fox," I grinned, rubbing my nose against his. "Now what do you say we do some exploring?"

He answered with a small, watery smile, removing his hand from mine to pocket the Scottie dog back in his shorts.

I stood up, taking his hand as I turned on my torch and led him out into the tunnels.

Understandably, he'd been nervous about 'exploring' ever since I'd told him about Voldemort. But exercise was important, and the tunnels were still the best way we could achieve that. They stretched for miles, giving a great opportunity to run and properly stretch our legs.

I tried to make a game out of it, so Jack wouldn't fear the darkness. We were explorers, I'd tell him, just like foxes underground.

"Last one to McGonagall's chambers is a stinky loser," I whispered in his ear, laughing as my son quickly let go of my hand and raced on up ahead, the light on his hat bobbing wildly up and down in his eager haste.

*****

Despite being an early springtime evening, it was dark, very dark.

Draco drew in a deep shuddering breath as his eyes roamed over the tall turrets of the place he'd once called his home, the restored castle looking just as it had all those years ago.

"Man up," Diggory muttered, his eyes dancing cruelly. "It's just a fucking building."

But it wasn't just a fucking building. It was the place where he'd lost everything.

Draco felt like throwing down his wand and punching the actual shit out of Diggory; he hated him more than he hated Voldemort. The fact that he had ever touched her made him feel sick beyond belief, let alone the added reason that he'd murdered one of her closest friends and had been one of the sick fuckers that had lifted their wand and taken her from him.

But the sudden feeling of darkness and despair pressing down around them quickly sucked all the fight back out of him. It was soul destroying misery at its finest.

Obviously feeling it too, Diggory lifted his wand and instantly cast his Patronus; a giant rat, unsurprisingly.

Draco wearily lifted his own wand, wondering if he even had it in him anymore. Reminding himself of his promise to put old ghosts to rest, he decided to try focusing on the future instead; he was about to become a father, his child was growing inside his wife's stomach.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing.

He tried again and again, forcing himself to imagine holding his child for the first time, hear him call him 'Dada' and watch on proudly as he flew a broomstick for the first time.

But it was wrong, all wrong. For these were the things he'd imagined doing with his and Blaire's child, and all it did was make him feel more depressed and more heartbroken than ever.

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