Disclaimer: I do not claim to own the Harry Potter series or any of its related topics. Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling and in respect to its creator, this fan fiction was created for entertainment purposes only, and is not part of the official story line. The plot is mine and any other characters you do not recognize. No reader/reviewer is authorized to post/translate this story anywhere else without my permission.

A/N: This story discards everything that happened in Book 6 and 7.

Happy Holidays! I won't keep you guys because I know you're all itching to read this chapter... onward then!

Title: Alexander Draco Malfoy
Author: Aoi Megami
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Locating Godric Gryffindor's Sword

He was sorting through Dumbledore's old things when he'd found it. The sorting hat. He'd been left with the task to search through the former Head Master's things to find a clue to the whereabouts of Godric Gryffindor's sword. He and Charlie had promised they'd deliver the sword to Malfoy Manor, but unfortunately, they had no luck locating it from his possessions.

Charlie had to leave to help with the impending attack and he was left behind to finish the task. He had to find it. It was the only way to destroy the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.

He clutched the tattered hat in his hands as memories from his first year flooded his head. He smiled in remembrance. They were so young then. So innocent. Who would've known that in a few years they'd be fighting a war?

"Neville?" A soft spoken voice echoed in the quiet room.

Startled, Neville turned to voice's owner. "Luna," he breathed out in relief. "You scared me," he admitted as he unconsciously clutched the sorting hat close to his chest.

"What's that?" she ignored his stated relief and stepped into the dimmed room.

"Oh," startled out of his relief, he showed her what he was holding onto so tight. "Remember this?" he asked her with a smile.

"The sorting hat," she exclaimed, her eyes wide opened after seeing the relic.

He nodded. "It brings back so many memories," he said.

"What are you doing here?" she changed topic so quickly it gave Neville a headache.

"Uh," he stuttered. "I was uh—looking for Gryffindor's sword."

"Sword?" she repeated curiously.

"Yeah," he nodded in response. "Remember the sword Harry used to destroy the Basilisk? It could be the only thing that could destroy all the Horcrux," he continued. "Problem is, I don't know where it is," he sighed in defeat.

"It may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor," she quoted before straightening herself and leaving a very confused Neville behind.

But a different memory from back then, during the last night of their second year, about a tale told by a boy with a lightning scar on his forehead, a tale about a sword and a hat had materialized due to his early reminiscing.

His father was smiling. That couldn't be a good sign. As a child, he'd never seen his father smile. He was always stoic, serious, and quiet. The few times he'd actually seen him smile was during a private (or so they thought) moment with his mother.

Xander would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was downright scared was what he was. His hands were sweating, he gulped one too many times, and his eyes fought to stay glued to his father's. And when his father had given him that smile, he knew there was something wrong.

"We need to talk," his father smiled.

He gulped before nodding his head in agreement, not completely trusting himself to speak.

Before Draco could utter another word, he thought of something urgent, a question that needed to be answered.

"How many people knows about your origin?" he suddenly turned serious, startling the younger boy in the progress.

Xander looked confused at the sudden turn in his father's voice. He thought hard about his question before answering. "Harry, Blaise, Ron, Mum," he paused. What does he call the man standing before him now? Father? Dad? Draco? He'd always been Draco since he got there. Should he change the way he calls him now that he knew? "You," he settled.

"Five," Draco counted. "Let's keep it at that," he told him.

"Keep it at what?" Xander looked confused.

"The number of people who knows, the less the better," he said.

"If you're worried about me existing or not—"

"I know," Draco said.

"You—know?"

"I know your mother's pregnant with you, I know you exist now," Draco continued. "But you're playing with Time here; you're already changing a lot of events while you're here. If it tips out of balance, it could very well bite you in arse, so the less people who knows the better," he explained. "And you really should refrain from doing too much while you're here. With the helping I mean, advice is good, but trying to help Potter, or your Mum do something that's related to this time could not bode well with your situation. Remember, you're here as a visitor," he warned.

"I-I understand," Xander nodded, fully processing what his father had told him. He knew about it of course, but with everything that's happened, he can't help but feel quite excited that he didn't have to hide such a huge secret. "But, won't they find out sooner or later? I will be born in a few months so—" he trailed off.

"Well, let them know once you're born and you've returned to your original time—war free, but not at this moment," Draco replied. "I cannot protect you from the Magic that keeps balance in this world. It is very well out of my reach, so we better follow as much of the rules as we can."

A feeling of pride and comfort swelled within Xander. His father was uncharacteristically showing such care towards him, that he failed to hide the blush that graced his ashen cheeks.

"Okay," Xander could only nod, his eyes not meeting his. "Th-thanks," he stuttered. "Thanks, d-dad," he said, the blush on his cheeks reddening even more. He wouldn't be surprised if it reached his ears.

"Now," Draco turned the conversation to a different direction. "I won't ask about the future, so you can relax," he said, secretly basking in the warmth of the title his son before him had used.

Xander let out a deep breath, something he wasn't aware he was holding in. "Mom and I talked," he informed him, somewhat shyly.

"About?"

"The future, she didn't really asked, I answered what I knew she was dying to ask, but only told her what I could," Xander said, trying to hold back a smirk at the thought of his mother who was practically itching to ask so many questions but was holding herself back for his sake.

Draco was silent. Contemplating whether he wanted to know what they talked about regarding the future.

Xander looked at him, waiting for any sign that he should continue.

Draco stood still before his son. He sighed, closed his eyes shut and breathed in deeply. "I died," he started; it wasn't a question, more of a statement, a fact.

Xander nodded cautiously.

"Figures," Draco said casually, as if the talk about his death was nothing but a passing matter.

"You're not afraid," Xander stated, though his expression was filled with confusion

"If I was afraid of death, I wouldn't have fallen in love with your mother," Draco answered his silent question.

Xander smiled in response.

Draco continued, "I won't ask about the future, so don't tell me anything," he went back to their previous topic. "The future will change soon; I'd rather not know something that will soon be insignificant."

A moment of silence followed their conversation.

Draco thought hard. It wasn't that he didn't want to know anything about the future. He was dying to ask. Not about the events of the future, but about himself, as a father. He wanted to know if he was acceptable as a father. If he was anything like his own father was. If he did anything right.

Xander watched the flickering emotions that graced his father's face. He'd never seen his father this open and readable before. Draco Malfoy was a master at wearing masks, even better than his brother. Xander had always seen his father as this cold man, incapable of feeling, an actor of sorts; someone who was so unpredictable, someone who was always careful.

But here he was, like an open book, ready to be read.

"You did everything," Xander found himself saying before he could think about what he was saying.

His father raised his grey eyes towards him, the same ones he'd inherit.

"You were the bravest man I knew," tears threatened to fall. All his life he'd hated his father, blamed him for everything, all because he was young and he didn't understood the sacrifices he'd made for his family. He trembled beneath his gaze. All the guilt suddenly seemed so heavy on his shoulders. "You protected us; you kept on fighting even though the majority of the Order doubted you. You fought for your family, for your friends, for a better future for us," uncontrolled tears fell.

"I failed," his father's whispered words cut through the tense situation.

Xander shook his head fiercely. "No, you didn't," Xander was quick to assuage him. "Scorpius fought," he pointed out, noticing a sudden flinch from his father. There was no doubt that his father caught on his hidden meaning. He watched as his father tried to right his balance at the sudden news. That his first born had died. "I'm still here," he added, barely audible, but his father raised his eyes towards him, indicating that he'd heard him. Draco was deathly pale, veins popping in his neck as he reigned in the anger of learning of his son's death in the future. "You taught us to fight, to never give up," he continued with more courage and confidence behind his tone.

"Xander," Draco took a step towards him.

Tears continued to flow. "I'm so sorry dad," he sobbed. "It's my entire fault," he trembled. "Mum, Scorpius," he rambled. "I hated you," he confessed. "I blamed you for everything and I didn't even realize all the sacrifices you made for us, everything that you'd done to protect us, what you had to go through," he continued unabashedly. "I'm so sorry," he pleaded as his father wrapped his arms around his weeping self. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he chanted, as his father's arm tightened more around him.

Draco comforted his son, softly shushing him as he let him cry. "It's not your fault," he assured his son. "It's never your fault."

As he cried in hysterics in his father's arms, he remembered the kind of father Draco Malfoy was. He remembered him sheltering him and Scorpius from the war, delaying the time when they'd have to find out the violence and reality of war. He remembered the kind of father he was in the future, the one who would pick him up and carry him in his arms when he got tired of walking, the father who would heal his wounds, the father who would tuck them in bed even if he was deathly tired after coming back from a mission, the father who loved them so much that he'd turned away from everything he'd believed in and continued to fight for them to have a better future. How could he have forgotten that? How could he have forgotten how much he looked up to his father, admired him, and then completely hate him overnight?

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't ready to lose you, and I hated you for dying," the words came rushing out, his guilt, his realization.

Xander's arms wound around Draco, clinging onto him as he wallowed in his guilt; his guilt of being the only one in his family who had survived, who hadn't suffered as much as his deceased family members had.

"You've done more than we could ask of you Alexander," his father said softly, his voice just above a whisper. "You did well my son," he assured him. "You have no idea how proud your mother and I of everything you've done. It takes great courage to do what you had to do," he paused. "And for once, I might reconsider allowing a progeny of mine to be a Gryffindor," he said somewhat jokingly, which made Xander chuckle through his sobs.

"You were the best dad," Xander said when he pulled away from him, knowing that his father would want to hear that.

An unfamiliar smile graced his father's features. "Thank you, son," Draco said, relief evident in his voice as his silver eyes held his own. His father then looked past him over his shoulder towards the still open door that led to the Drawing room. "I know you're back, so come on in," he called out.

Surprised, Xander turned and looked over his shoulder, just in time to witness his mother come back into the room, with a tear stained face.

"Mum!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"It's the hormones," she sniffed, explaining her own tear stained face.

Xander laughed as he wiped his tears away.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Now that you're both here," he started, quickly going back to business. "I have something important for the both of you to do," he paused, checking to see whether he had their full, undivided attention. "I need you two to stay here, in the Manor, behind my family's protection," he continued without pause.

Xander shouldn't have been shock at his mother's outburst.

"Are you bloody mental?" she exclaimed. "What makes you think I'd stick back and sit on my arse as you and everyone else go to fight what could be the final battle?" her eyes widened, daring him to come up with a good excuse as to why she should do as he asked.

Draco merely sighed and confidently strode towards her, determination clear in his eyes.

"This," he softly placed his calloused hand over her still flat stomach.

Having momentarily forgotten that she was pregnant, she looked down at his still hand above her still flat abdomen. Her own hands rose to cover his above her stomach. She shivered with the reminder. She turned to Xander, unshed tears evident in her eyes.

"You're pregnant, Hermione," Draco's deep voice snapped her eyes away from their son's and towards him. "It's not just your life that's in danger now," he reminded her.

She silently nodded.

"I know," she whispered.

"At least you have Xander to keep you company," Draco added with a playful smirk.

This seemed to snap Xander out of his haze. His eyes widened at his father's declaration. "What? I'm staying?" he asked somewhat stupidly.

"I did say the 'both' of you, right?" Draco turned to him, as if questioning his attention span.

"I—but—" Xander started.

"Someone told me about your magic," Draco continued.

"Blaise," Xander grumbled. "But, it's not that I can't use magic, I can," he nodded his head as if he came up with the best explanation.

Draco merely raised a platinum brow. "You said you can't use magic," he stated.

"In a way, I can't, but I can!" Xander exclaimed. Draco cocked his head, waiting for an explanation. His piercing eyes made Xander confessed. "Except it drains me whenever I use a simple spell," he grumbled.

"In other words, your magic is limited, close to unusable," his father summarized.

Xander reluctantly agreed. For some strange reason, he felt like a normal teenager at that moment that was suddenly grounded, and not allowed to go to a friend's house party.

"I mean it Hermione," Draco turned his attention back to his wife, his eyes lingering on their hands above her stomach. Silently passing on the message, the message that they owe it to their son that she survive and that he be born, especially after everything he'd been through.

"I understand Draco," she whispered, knowing his reason as to why he was adamant that she stay behind the safe walls of his ancestor's house. She then took something out of her pocket and placed it inside his larger hand.

The note he'd asked her to retrieve.

"Where's Scorpius?" Draco asked as he pocketed the small piece of parchment paper.

"With Pansy, in your old nursery," she replied as he placed a tender kiss on her temple. His silent announcement that he was about to depart.

He nodded in response to her and stepped aside to leave.

"Come back to me, Draco," her voice barely above a whispered called after his retreating form. He didn't look back to indicate that he'd heard her. He kept on walking, knowing that if he did look back, he'd have an even harder time leaving. So he continued on his set pace, and left his wife and son without another word.

"I'm sure he'll be fine mum," Xander spoke after a moment of silence. "If there's anything dad is very good at, it's surviving," he said with confidence. Hermione nodded in agreement, directing a smile of gratitude towards her son.

Shell cottage was quiet. There were only a few Order members left in the house as the majority had already converged at Malfoy Manor to join Harry Potter in what he had claimed to be the final attack. The final battle that could end this war, either to their favor or to the Dark side. Neville was seriously praying it would be the former.

He needed to go too. He wanted to join Harry and everyone else on the assault. But he had a different mission he had to complete now. Without the sword there would be no way to destroy the Horcruxes.

But he'd searched repeatedly for the sword in Dumbledore's belongings, and no sign or even a clue about it anywhere. And he wasn't the only one who was looking for it. Charlie had helped too, and with two sets of eyes looking, they didn't find anything. So really, was there a point in staying to continue looking for it?

He sighed in defeat as he stood from his position. Determined, he started walking out of the room, but a nagging feeling kept pestering him. He turned to look back at the pile and his eyes landed on the sorting hat.

He knew about the story. Harry and Ron had told him all about it. About the sword appearing for a true Gryffindor. He knew deep down he was nowhere near becoming a true Gryffindor. But maybe Harry, or even Ron could get the sword to appear if he brought the sorting hat with him.

With that plan in mind, he walked back towards the pile and grabbed the tattered hat before making his way towards the fireplace to take him straight to Malfoy Manor.

"Potter," Draco headed towards the man who was directing the chaos in the Entrance hall.

"Malfoy," Harry turned to look at him. "We're infiltrating Hogwarts through the fireplace, the same way we entered it," he told him.

"They'd have shut the connection by now," Draco reminded him.

"May, or may not have," Harry corrected him. "We'll try the fireplace first before we infiltrate from the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest," he told him of their plan.

Draco didn't bother to argue, he was somewhat impressed that Harry had finally decided to take charge of the Order and finally do something about this war. He lazily watched the bustle around the Entrance Hall as Order members started readying themselves for the upcoming battle.

"Malfoy," Harry's voice snapped him out of his stupor. "You talked to him," a statement.

Draco almost rolled his eyes, refused to answer, and settled for a glare that meant it wasn't any of his damn business.

"Is he alright?" Harry asked, worry was evident in his tone.

A moment of silence followed.

"He was somewhat distressed," Draco answered after a moment.

"But he's okay now?" Harry pushed.

"Somewhat," Draco drawled.

Harry sighed.

"What have you told my son that you've made him distressed?" Draco asked, his tone was somewhat bored.

Harry smiled at his words. "Your son," he whispered in disbelief. "That really sounds so weird," he chuckled.

Draco silently agreed.

"I told him about me," Harry paused. "About the Horcrux," he finished, and it explained everything.

Ah, the seventh Horcrux. Draco had a feeling about Harry being the seventh Horcrux, but hadn't thought it would actually be true.

"He's distressed because he's been trying, putting himself on the line trying to save me, to keep me alive. But, I actually have to die," Harry choked on his last words.

Draco stayed silent. What was he to say to a man walking towards his death?

Harry sighed. Draco didn't like the path this conversation was heading so he'd decided to change it.

"Potter," he started. "I'm not joining you," he said.

Harry turned to face him, a questioning look on his face. But before Draco could explain, Harry had beaten him to it. "You're going back," he stated.

Draco stayed silent.

Harry sighed. They've been doing that a lot; the sighing and the silence. Well, it's understandable since they've never really had a real conversation. "To Voldemort, you're going back," he said. "Why?"

"I have to do something," Draco answered simply.

Harry looked angry. "The wand," he stated.

"Yes, the wand," Draco nodded.

"The wand, it doesn't matter anymore," Harry argued.

"The darkest wizard our world has ever encountered is in possession of what could be the most powerful wand in existence, and it 'doesn't matter'?" Draco raised a brow in disbelief. "Has death that's been looming over your shoulder addled your brain Potter?"

Harry sighed. "You're its master Malfoy, not Voldemort," he dropped the information.

Draco took a step back. "Excuse me?" his tone was coated with distrust.

"The wand choses it's Master," Harry informed him. "It's you."

"How in the name of Slytherin is that possible?" he looked like he was about to admit Harry to a mental ward in St. Mungo's.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whoever defeated its previous Master, becomes its next Master," Harry repeated the information.

"Me? When did I defeat Dumbledore?" Draco asked in incredulity.

Harry stayed silent.

Then it all came crashing back to him. "I simply disarmed him!"

"It's as good as any," Harry said.

"That's ridiculous," Draco was in denial. He shook his head to clear away the confusion that suddenly befell upon him. "It doesn't matter, Master or not, I'm still going back," he said as he turned to leave.

"Why?" Harry asked angrily.

Draco turned back to face him, anger evident in his face and the tone of his voice. "Because, Potter, I'm close to finding out 'why'," he answered.

"'Why' what?"

"Why the Dark Lord was weakened years ago. Who did it? Why he did it. Why my father is half-crazed and mentally unstable. I want to know why," He growled in response before turning to walk away.

Harry stared at his retreating back. He sighed in defeat. "You need to come back Malfoy," Harry said as he watched Draco turn to face him once again. His sea green eyes connected with his platinum ones. "Your family needs you," he said as he turned to walk away.

"Potter," Draco stopped his retreat. "I'll not have my son be born into this world without a godfather," he simply said with a calm tone before turning to leave.

Harry released a soft chuckle. So much meaning to the words his childhood rival had uttered. Draco Malfoy trusted him with his son, he trusted him to win this war, to come out of it alive, to find a different path away from Death. "Always had to have the last words, don't you, Malfoy?" he whispered to no one in particular as he watched the retreat of his once long time childhood enemy, who is now, the husband of his, for all intents and purposes, his sister. Someone who is now, he wouldn't say friend, but very close to that.

Harry smiled, turned away, and continued barking orders to get them ready for a battle that could be their last.

Pansy had charmed Draco's old model broom figurine set to fly around the giggling toddler. She watched mesmerized as the tiny child try to keep his balance as he reached up to catch the tiny flying brooms.

She wanted one of her own someday. She dreamed as she thought about Blaise. She smiled dreamily as she continued to watch the overexcited child trying hard to jump and catch the zipping broom with an unsteady gait.

She grinned when Scorpius lost his balance and fell flat on his bum. It didn't seem to deter the child as he soon got up on wobbly feet and resumed his game with innocent giggles.

Pansy was about to change their little game when she heard a knock on the door. Changing her destination, she headed towards the double mahogany doors and opened it to reveal a familiar face.

"Vincent," startled at his presence she cocked her head to one side in confusion. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"D-Draco sent m-me," the large man stuttered.

Pansy fought an emerging smile. For years she'd known Vincent Crabbe and he'd always been this shy whenever speaking to girls.

"What for?" she asked in a welcoming tone, trying hard to ease the nervousness of her friend.

"I-I'm sorry, Pansy," he shuffled his feet.

The smile slowly disappeared from her face. "What about?" she was definitely confused now.

"I'm sorry," Vincent whispered again and the next thing Pansy knew, everything had gone dark.

Chapter Word Count: 4,185

A/N: First off, Chapter was not proof-read, so I apologize sincerely for any grammar mistakes. I figured you guys wouldn't mind since it's been so long since I updated. Second, I won't even try to apologize for not updating sooner. I have no excuse for my lazy ass this past year. I just hope everybody forgives me for it. Let this be my Holiday gift for everyone. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter :)