Title: Follow Your Heart
Authors: Lux (quietlygorgeous@hotmail.com) and Ntamara (naomitamara@yahoo.com)
Feedback: Yes please :)
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: R (or perhaps NC-17, but not for smut)
Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Harry searches the ruins of the Malfoy estate for the one he loves.
Warnings: Dark and disturbing content. Mpreg. Character Death.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't ours, hardly anything of this is ours. They all belong to JKR, Warner Bros and probably lots of other people who all aren't us. Oh, and we're not making any money out of this either. Unfortunately.
Authors' Note: This story is an entry for Misconceptions: Harry Potter Mpreg Fuh-Q-Fest Wave 2 and is a response to challenge 67. The challenge text has been included at the bottom of this post, to avoid spoilers. Thanks go out to atdelphi, srichard and leni_jess for their supportive and helpful beta-work.

Follow Your Heart

Harry picked his way through the rubble of the former Malfoy residence. He had never seen it in all its glory, but Malfoy Ð Draco Ð had boasted enough about his ancestral home when they were still in school that he thought he had a fair idea of what it might have been like. There was nothing left of that proud home now, nor of the Malfoy family.

The mansion was scorched from fire, and had suffered from the elements, and black and powerful magic. What Voldemort hadn't destroyed, the plunderers and looters had in those days of anarchy and chaos just before and after the Dark Lord's defeat. The few walls that remained standing were covered in crude wizarding graffiti.

But Harry was not here to see that. He had not come here searching for the rumoured hidden cache of Malfoy treasure, or any overlooked magical artefacts. He knew he would find none: the Ministry's clean-up team had been thorough. Harry was on a different mission entirely. His friends, Lupin, Dumbledore, they had all told him to let it go, to move on, that there was no hope left. But Harry couldn't. He couldn't just let it go, just let Severus go. If there was even the slimmest chance... If there was only one place left that he hadn't looked... It did not matter that Severus had been gone for over half a year, as long as Harry did not find a body his lover might still be alive. Severus might still be waiting for Harry to rescue him.

Harry chuckled, bitter and sad. Oh, how proud Severus would have Ð would resent that notion. That he might need saving, that he might need Harry.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Harry gripped his wand and concentrated on the task at hand. St Mungo's had finally released him with a clean bill of health a week ago, and there was no way for Dumbledore or any of the others to stop him from properly searching for Severus now.

"Dirige Cor!"

It was a spell of his own devising, similar to the 'point-me' spell he had used during the Third Task in his fourth year. Instead of pointing north, however, his wand was supposed to point towards his heart, his love. He concentrated on the image of Severus in his mind. Harry remembered the other man, remembered waking up next to him, remembered making love, remembered bickering and arguing, remembered that first kiss, remembered, remembered, remembered.

"Dirige Cor!"

The wand in his hand wobbled slightly and then remained still.

However, the Malfoy estate was large, and Harry had nowhere else to be.

Voldemort's last weeks had been characterised by anarchy on both sides. Dumbledore had been incapacitated Ð in a coma in the hospital wing, on the cusp of death Ð leaving the Order adrift. The Ministry had never been stable, and with Fudge's assassination a bitter power struggle had erupted, leaving the Aurors divided between those following the Order and those following the self-appointed leadership of the day. Voldemort himself had descended into madness, cursing friends, or at least allies, and foes alike. The Death Eaters were divided between trying to save themselves by surrendering to the Order or the Ministry, trying to overthrow Voldemort, or knowing themselves doomed and digging in for the Dark Lord's and their own defence.

Which category the Malfoys fell into was hard to determine. Harry knew that Narcissa had approached Dumbledore just before his collapse. There were those who suspected her of poisoning the headmaster.

Whatever the case, as far as they had been able to reconstruct, something had happened at the Malfoy estate three days before Voldemort's end. Voldemort had turned on them, killing Narcissa and then destroying the Malfoy ancestral home; her body had been found in the smoking remains of the mansion, and the magical signature was that of Voldemort. What had happened to Lucius or Draco was still unknown, even now, two months later. They had not been seen since Ð not during those last few days, and not after. Questioning the few surviving Death Eaters had not provided any leads either, only that Voldemort had been alone with the three that night, and that was the last anybody had seen of the Malfoys.

Harry didn't care about Lucius or Draco. His concern was not with discovering either their location or their fate. For all he cared, they had escaped and were living happily on some tropical island. The only thing Harry wanted to know was what had happened to Severus Snape.

"Dirige Cor!"

Nearly half a year ago to the day, Voldemort had summoned Severus, and Severus had not returned. The only conclusion was that his treachery and spying had been revealed. Remus, Ron, Hermione, Albus, they had told Harry not to leave, that there was nothing he could do. In the end they had been forced to drug him to stop him from going after Voldemort right there and then.

Days had passed and Severus did not return. Weeks passed without word. Over the months there was the occasional rumour that Severus was still alive, that he was being kept somewhere, being tortured, but Harry could not follow up on any of the rumours. Dumbledore had kept him occupied with his training, preparing him for the final confrontation. He knew Dumbledore sent people to check out those leads, but they might have missed something. The others were not as motivated as Harry was. But now Voldemort was finally dead, and unfortunately none of the Death Eaters who had survived were high ranking enough to know what had happened to Severus or where he might be.

"Dirige Cor!"

Until Harry saw Severus' body, he would not stop looking. If Voldemort had killed Severus, wouldn't he have left Severus for the Order to find? As an example?

"Dirige Cor!"

Until there was no hope left, Harry would keep looking.

"Dirige Cor!"

Harry froze, staring at the wand balanced in the palm of his hand. It slowly spun around before halting, pointing slightly to his left. He turned and walked ten feet in that direction, then spoke the spell again. The wand spun, halted, and pointed straight ahead. Blood pounding in his ears, Harry followed his wand through the remains of what might have been a dining room, past a twisted and melted metal staircase leading upwards into empty air.

"Dirige Cor!"

The wand spun and now pointed in exactly the opposite direction from before. Harry turned around and retraced his steps. Oh Merlin, please.

Stepping back and forward until his wand kept spinning. Harry gently lowered his hand from under his wand, and it hung in the air before its rotations slowed and the tip gravitated downward, until finally it was pointing at the floor beneath Harry's feet.

Harry snatched his wand and fell to his knees, wiping away the dirt and stone with his hands, cutting the skin of his palms open, before cursing and banishing the rubble with a flick of his wrist. He moved his hands over the smooth marble stone, searching for a seam, for any indication of an entrance. He closed his eyes and concentrated, stretching out his senses searching for any sign of magic, any concealment.

There... Just beyond his reach...

He was muttering under his breath, hardly aware of the spells he cast: spells to dispel illusions, spells to reveal hidden wards, and spells to force secrets out into the open. Harry knew he was one of the most powerful wizards alive Ð he had proven that when he defeated Voldemort Ð and he would not be gainsaid.

Surrender to me, give it up, yield, show yourself, show yourself, yield to me, surrender.

There was the sound of nails on chalkboard, stone grating on stone, and when Harry opened his eyes he looked down to see a narrow set of stairs leading into the earth, into darkness. The Aurors hadn't found this, he was certain of that. Please, Merlin, oh please, let it be so, let it be so, please.

Harry had started his search here early in the morning, when the sun had been shining and the sky was blue. It was late afternoon now; clouds had long since covered the sky as the temperature dropped and a slow but persistent drizzle started to fall from the heavens. Harry shivered and hesitated for a brief second. He should go for backup... But so much time had already been wasted! He was so close, he could not let even more time pass; he could not afford to waste even one more second. Severus was waiting for him. Severus was counting on him.

"Lumos!"

Harry descended the stairs, wand held in his left hand to light the way as he trailed his right hand along the wall next to the winding stairs. Within a few steps, he was surrounded by a suffocating darkness. His breath was loud and quick in his ears. He had to stop himself from rushing forward, had to curb the urge to dash down those stairs calling Severus' name. He would be no good to Severus if he stupidly tripped and broke his neck.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry stumbled and realised the steps had ended. He raised his wand and increased the power of the spell, illuminating a bare rectangular room. There were no doors, only blind walls, but Harry cast the spell to find his heart, and his wand pointed unerringly at a spot on the right hand wall. It only took two tries to break whatever wards kept the entrance hidden. Harry dimmed the light of his wand as he slipped through the doorway.

The air was warmer here, and there was a... smell in the air, tickling Harry's nose and, as he followed the corridor and it grew stronger, making him want to gag. He could smell... blood. And pain, and despair. He turned a corner, and there was a light coming from beneath the closed door at the end of the hallway. There was sound now too, a murmur of voices Ð one or two? Ð and the smell was getting stronger. Harry could see a shadow moving in the light from beneath the doorway. He started walking faster, clenching his wand tightly now.

One voice, no two, and that smell Ð blood and something that reminded Harry of hospitals, of that time Severus threw the jar of dead cockroaches at him, and the fluid Severus kept some of his potions ingredients in, that had smelled the same. Two voices, a conversation he could not hear. Harry reached for the doorknob, feeling dizzy from the smell.

"No! Mercy, nooooo!" was suddenly screamed, and Harry would recognise that voice anywhere.

"Severus!" he shouted, grabbing the handle and pulling at it, but the door wouldn't budge. He threw his shoulder against the heavy wood and then slashed his wand down. "Reducto! Severus!"

The door erupted in a shower of fiery splinters and Harry stumbled forward through the flames. Jars filled with hideous things sat on the shelves, blood stained knives and clamps and saws hung from hooks along the walls. Severus was naked and strapped to a table and, oh Merlin, what was wrong with his stomach? Why was his belly distended like that? Severus Ð All of a sudden Lucius Malfoy was standing in his way and he could no longer see Severus. Malfoy's robes were dirty and torn, his blond hair matted and dishevelled, and his face and hands were smeared with blood. He was pointing his wand Ð Avada. Green light blinded Harry.

His hands were bloody. The screams were distant in the back of his head. The begging and pleading; he slit open the distended gut and used his hands to push through fat and muscle until he got to the hollowed out section of stomach. He stared at the clear sac and the misshapen blob floating in the amniotic fluid. Carefully, he breached the strong spells protecting the sac and turned it with his hands. The sac was warm in his palm as he checked it for tears. He didn't dare use magic. With the myriad of spells already around the sac a simple one could ruin everything. Finding the sac intact, he carefully pushed it back in place and used his wand only to close the gaping wound, sealing the stomach shut for the last stages.

"It's all right, my love. Soon we'll be together." He laid his head on the host's stomach and stroked the badly scarred skin. "Soon."

He nuzzled and kissed a few of the dark bruises. "I'll take such good care of you. No one will ever hurt you, I promise. Daddy loves you."

He stared at the host and smiled, stepping closer to the head of the table. "Not long now," he said and pushed a lock of sweaty black hair off the host's forehead, leaving a streak of blood on his temple.

"I promise I'll be gentle," he teased in good humour, his spirits raised by the progress his child was making.

"You're a monster," the host choked out, feebly pulling at the chains keeping him on the table.

"Tsk, tsk." He shook his head and yanked the host's head off the table, bringing them face to face. Harshly, he turned the host's face towards the nursery door. "Look at him. The only one who ever loved you, sacrificed himself trying to rescue you when you're mine, you've always been mine," he mocked, his own eyes never leaving the decaying corpse of The Savior.

"Already he's hardly more than a pile of bones. The rats have picked him nearly clean." He laughed softly as the host wrenched his face away and turned towards the opposite wall.

"I hate you," the host sobbed.

He laughed even louder, the sound maniacal as it echoed off the walls. "And you're mine. You'll give me what she never would."

His face fell, his high spirits suddenly gone with his laughter. He picked up the dull, bloody knife and grasped the host's left hand. "I shouldn't have spoken ill of her.

"Forgive me, Narcissa," he whispered and sliced off the host's middle finger. The host screamed as the finger landed on the floor. A rat ran up and grasped it, running back through the cracks. Only the thumb and ring finger were left. His heart pounded in his chest harshly as the host kept pulling at his chains, blood dripping from the cut onto the floor.

Draco. Where was Draco? He needed to find Draco. He had to take care of Draco, make sure he was safe and that no one hurt him.

"Draco," he called softly as he left the dungeons and headed towards the nursery, stepping over the corpse in the doorway. He made sure not to get blood on the dainty carpet.

He smiled seeing his eldest asleep on the bed. "There you are, darling," he cooed and came to the bedside. He stroked Draco's white-blonde hair and his ice-cold cheek. Draco's eyes were open wide, his mouth slack with the absence of muscle in his body.

"Daddy's making you a new baby sister. Isn't that exciting?" He held Draco closely to his chest and rocked him back and forth. "We'll all be a family again, won't that be nice?"

Draco stared, unmoving, at the ceiling. The only thing keeping him from being eaten by the rats or decaying was the series of spells he had placed on his beloved Draco.

"Yes, I know you miss your mother, but soon you'll have a little sister to play with." He pulled the duvet over Draco's shoulders. "You get some sleep."

He started towards the dungeon again but stopped in the doorway. He turned back towards the bed, an amused smile stretched across his thin face. "What are you talking about? Honestly Draco." He shook his head and left. "Du-dee!" A shrill voice shouted.

Lucius turned and smiled, opening up his arms as a child was carried to him by one of the few remaining house elves under his control. He picked up the small child and cuddled her close to his chest.

"Hello, my darling," he sighed and kissed her bumpy head. He pushed down the few pieces of blonde hair on her head. Part of her scalp was bald and he endeavoured to fix the problem with the next child.

She was very small and one of her eyes was missing. It had never formed. She looked like a rag doll that had been chewed on by a dog. Her left arm was nothing more than a stump and her mouth was one large gap with no teeth. She had been the first and had already been far along when she'd been transferred to the jar. Only six weeks in the host before she'd been born, although much smaller than he'd anticipated. With the hormones he'd given the host, gestation was shorter, quicker. But her size had suffered. He loved her all the same.

The next one, though, the next one would be perfect.

End.

Challenge 67: Narcissa Malfoy did not want anymore children after Draco. However, time after time, she kept getting pregnant. Lucius saved all the aborted fetuses, preserving them and even naming them and keeping them in an elaborate nursery in the Manor. Now Narcissa is gone, and Lucius is getting ideas... (Bailey Anne)