Summary: It is often the children who are forgotten during war, their tales the ones that go untold. Percy Weasley. Oliver Wood. Marcus Flint. Three such children whose lives were changed irreversibly by the first war against Voldemort, a war that they were not only witness to, but unwilling participants of. Here are their stories.

He despised the stars. Their unbridled freedom to roam unrestrained through the jet-black night fuelled a green fire within him, their utter carelessness a stark mockery of the rigors of necessity that everyone else had to conform to.

Why should the stars be free, when no one else was?

It puzzled him, the way poets wrote stars as a lover's confidant, a hope for brighter days to come. Such ideals seemed so false, so pretentious. The stars were not there as literally wonders, but to taunt them of a past that he himself had never known.

Ma told him that he thought too much, read too much. But what else was there to do? Every few months they were whisked to a new safe house, a new temporary home. Each a contrast to the last, yet beneath it all, really the same. Empty, isolated, impersonal.

And lonely. So very much lonely. Did stars ever get lonely? There looked to be so many of them, it seemed impossible.

Percy stretched, gaze momentarily turned away from his nemesis as he studied the small room that had been 'home' for the last few weeks. The twins laid nestled together in an array of limbs so tangled that he couldn't tell where one 2 year old began and the other ended. Sleep did not elude them, for they were still children, ignorant of the world that was being spun around them.

He however, was 5, and far too aware of what was going on around him. Ma and Pa tried to hide it from him, of course, yet there were few things one could keep from someone who was as inquisitive and prying as he was.

There were times he wished he had listened at less doors, not overheard conversations that had clearly not been meant for him. Perhaps the nightmares would not have come so easily then.

He shot a jealous glance at the twins, so like the stars. Always shining brightly, always together. Always with him on the outside, not quite understanding. He had never been able to understand their secret games, never been invited to join. Like Cassandra and Helenus they were joined, fated to rise together, doomed to fall from grace as one.

Perhaps if Charlie hadn't joined Bill this year at Hogwarts, he would have had more friendlier companions than the many books Pa brought him. But no, Charlie and Bill were as inseparable as the twins, more so the Greek Achilles and Patroculus as opposed to the Trojan pair. Besides, they were so much older, so much ... more, than he would ever be.

Two stars burning brightly themselves. He was merely a faded Ajax who could not come close to matching their brilliance.

And who wanted to be Ajax?

Bill had given him his treasured copy of the Iliad before he had returned to Hogwarts several months earlier. He could still remember how Ma had protested; saying that there was no way a 5 year old could handle such a book. Bill had looked at her in disbelief, and Percy had committed to memory what he had said next.

"You can't be serious, mum! Percy ... Percy is brilliant! Beyond that! He reads everything - absorbs everything. I swear he's more intelligent than half the first years at Hogwarts! His knowledge is intense and vibrant - it should be fed, not starved because it is different to most 5 year olds."

Bill had looked at him then, ruffling his hair as he smiled down at him. "You're special Percy, one day you're going to be the most intelligent boy at Hogwarts, I know it."

And Percy had smiled back, sharing in the glow that was Bill, if only for a moment. Bill thought he was special - nothing else mattered. At 13, his older brother was everything he wanted to be, and the one he missed most. Not Charlie, and his obsession with something called Qwee-dish. Not his distant Pa, whose visits were infrequent and always rushed. Not even Ma, who seemed to spend all her time hushing baby Ronnie in some other room.

Unlike everyone else, Bill thought *he* was special. Everyone loved the twins, and they all cooed over Ronnie, yet Bill was the only one who paid any attention to him.

One part of Bill's statement confused him, however. Didn't *all* five year olds live like him? Surely he wasn't the only one who read endlessly to pass the dreary heaviness of time that seemed to hang like a dead weight over each day. What could they possibly do if they didn't read? Perhaps they each had their own twin to play with.

He would ask Bill next time he visited. Bill would know, he concluded thoughtfully, glancing at the small clock that adorned the left wall, studying it intensely. Surely Ma should be asleep by now? But no, the clock still hadn't switched over from 'Mother resting' to 'Mother Sleeping'. Perhaps Ronnie was keeping her awake? He was only 3 months old, his baby brother. And noisy, very noisy.

He almost let out a whoop of joy when the clock finally did tick over. Eagerly slipping on one of Charlie's old, patched jackets, he glanced over quickly at the twins to make sure they were still asleep before gently lifting the window, silently slipping out of it before closing it mutely behind him. As his feet softly landed on the pine needle clad ground below, a wide grin broke out on his usually calm face.

Free. He was free.

Without a moments hesitation he broke into a run, heading straight for the towering tree's that encircled the small clearing. Dodging and weaving, he alternated between prancing and neck breaking pace, sprinting as he frolicked in the dense forest, letting pure adrenaline take over.

No restraints, no strict rules enforced by Ma. Why couldn't it always be like this? The thrill of danger *did* add an extra element to his nightly wonderings, Percy had to admit with a smile as he pulled up in front of a stream he had only discovered several days ago. There was something exhilarating about breaking the rules. He settled himself on the slightly damp grass near the edge of the stream, soaking in the quiet beauty of the moonlit glade - *his* glade. The gentle waves that lapped timidly seemed in no great rush to get to their destination, and Percy couldn't hide his envy. Not only did the stream know where it was going, it could take its time doing so.

Even though time seemed to drag like a retreating shoreline, everything still seemed so rushed, so frantic. While the tide slowly went out, the waves still crashed kamikaze style onto the waiting beach.

The waves here were far more relaxed and sensible. He would prefer to befriend them rather than the mean, cold stars ...

His attention was so fixated on the ink black waves, he didn't at first hear the gentle whoosh of grass being crushed behind him. There had never been any reason to fear intrusion into their bland sanctuaries; some spell that Pa would cast always prevented that.

"You shouldn't be out alone at this time of night, child," a singsong voice called from behind him, resulting in Percy quickly getting to his feet and spinning around. Involuntarily, he took several steps back, his sneakers soaking in the wet sediment of the stream bank. Curiosity of meeting someone unknown was quickly eaten by fear as he recognised the black robes, the vivid tattoo that seemed in such stark contrast to the pale, moonlight-bleached skin of the intruder.

"I ... I'm not alone," he lied unconvincingly, eyes wide. Another step back, and this time the water sloshed easily over the top of his shoes. "My Ma ... Ma *and* Pa, they're ... they're close by!" The Death Eater chuckled, a harsh, deep sound that sends shivers down Percy's spine that has nothing to do with the ice-cold water.

"You're mother is undoubtedly asleep at some safe house we have yet to pinpoint, your father well protected within the Ministry walls," The towering man broke off, growling. "The Ministry is as unbreachable as Hogwarts."

"How ... how?!" Percy asked desperately, a tremble in his voice. "You shouldn't be able to - you *can't* find us! It's ... it's impossible! Ma said!"

"Dear, dear Percy," The man mocked as he took a step closer, resulting in Percy backing up even more into the once friendly stream. Now it did little more than hold him prisoner. "The stream is very pretty, isn't it? So calm, serene? Must be a change from the usual rigours of being constantly on the run." The gentle tone confused Percy.

"Yes," He replied, blinking confusingly at the other man.

"So lovely, and so very much not in the area that magically protects your usual safe houses from even the most powerful of wizards," As Percy looked on in horror, a triumphant snarl formed on the other man's lips.

No! NO! It must be! He thought desperately, glancing around the glade wildly. Of course it was within the boundaries of the spell, of course it was!

"I should really thank you," The other man mused. "*Years* we have been hunting down your family, only to always come up with a blank canvas. You all simply disappeared - oh, we knew of the two at Hogwarts, but everyone there is untouchable.

You're father *will* go down," He finished threateningly; dark promises laced into each word. "And that honour shall be mine."

This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening ...

"What do you think, Percy?" He asked with a fake smile. "Shall I hunt down your family and slaughter them, one-by-one? Rather Oedipus, don't you think? Kill the family, send the man who couldn't save them insane."

"Hercules." Percy spoke up timidly. At the disgruntled glare from his capturer, he knew he should stop; yet panic caused him to babble on. "It was Hercules who was driven insane, not Oedipus." Hooded eyes looked at him in barely disguised surprise.

"Intelligent child, aren't you?" He muttered softly, before turning back to the conversation. "So then, shall we go the route of *Hercules*? Or perhaps I should simply destroy you, leave your pretty carcass as a decaying warning to dear old dad?" He laughed at the horrified expression on the young child's face. "Come now, Percy! I could not have achieved this without your help! It is only fair you have a say in this!" He laughed again as two streaks of tears carved silent rivers down Percy's face. "Are you scared Percy?" He asked playfully. "Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Percy! Honey, where are you?!" The other man's eyes lit up with overzealous greed and excitement as the desperate voice of his Ma rang through the forest. The smile that had accompanied it dropped quickly when he heard several other voices join in, then several more.

"Mama!" Percy cried, scanning the tree line desperately for any sign of his mother. Cursing, the Death Eater lunged at Percy, causing him to squeal in panic as he was pulled up into the man's arms, steal arms wrapping strongly around him as he tried to struggle out of the iron grip.

"Mama!" He again sobbed, kicking, clawing - to no avail.

"Percy!" The relief in the other woman's voice was evident as she suddenly appeared on the outskirts of the clearing, along with several others that Percy had never seen before. Hair flowing loosely around her face, she stopped short, fear radiating almost visually from her as she saw her child was not alone.

"Lucius." The statement was short, dark. "Let go of my son, or else I guarantee your death will be one told around campfires for years to come."

"Is that a *threat*, Molly dear?" Lucius replied softly. "For I do believe you are in no position to be issuing one," As if to prove his point, his arms tightened around Percy's chest, causing him to cry out in pain.

"You do not want him, Lucius. He knows nothing - take me in his place." Gone was the fierce determination, in its place stood a desperate mother.

"I must correct you there, Molly," Lucius responded with a malicious grin. "I believe that while like you, your husband would do anything to save his own child, that same level of risk would not be extended to you. Tell the Ministry henchmen to back off, or I *will* kill the child."

With a low growl, she did so, much to Percy's terror.

"No mama, no!" He begged, not understanding why she was backing off, leaving him. "Please Ma!"

"I will hunt you down and kill you," his mother responded, eyes locked in hatred with the other man's. "I will spare you no mercy, no trial. By the time I am ready to finish you off, you will be pleading with me to kill you."

"How ironic," Lucius mused. "I intended to say the same thing to your son." In a flash, he was gone, Percy with him. Molly launched herself at them too late, they had apparated long before she reached the spot they had only seconds ago been on.

"Percy!"

***

"Ma!" he sobbed, as the clearing and his mother suddenly disappeared before him, morphing into a darkened corridor of stone. With a cold casualness, Lucius dropped him to the ground, a small smirk forming at the grunt of pain it bought. With eyes laced with terror, the small boy looked up at the man from his place at his feet, slowly inching backwards in a half crawl.

"Take him to one of the holding cells," Lucius spoke to a figure that seemed to have been bonded with the shadows. "I will call for him when he is desired."

"A cell, Lucius?" The shadow hesitated, glancing over at him. "He's but a child - surely he could be kept else-"

"The cells." The man growled, shooting a glare of disdain at Percy. "He is not a visitor, he is a prisoner. He shall be treated as such." Without any further comment, he spun on his heels, stalking off down the corridor.

"Come child," the gruff voice spoke. Percy found that it *was* indeed a man, and not some terrible wispy monster as it separated itself from the shadows and stretched a long, pale hand down to help him up. Tall and wiry, he still rather *looked* like a shadow, with his black cloak and hair. Yet even the almost sympathetic voice could not force him to obey, he felt as though he had been frozen to the spot by an ice dragon. With a sigh that spoke of impatience, the man whisked him up into his arms, and balanced him on his right hip. The position was almost comforting, and Percy found himself unwillingly wrapping his legs around the thin waist, his short arms tightly squirming around the neck of this new man.

If he buried his face in the dark cloak and sobbed bitter tears, his carrier made no comment of it.

The slow march to what was to be his new home seemed to stretch an indian summer, yet at the same time the final destination was reached far too soon. Weak protests had little effect as this new man, his Shadow, disentangled his short limbs from his own, placing him gently on his feet inside a small room.

Oh no, please no.

The cell was devoid of *anything*, there was no bed, no mat. No light. Desperately he spun towards his newest companion, small fists grabbing at his cloak.

"Please! Please don't leave me here!" Tears that had seemed to have dried up on the journey here found a new spring to bubble forth from. "I can't .. I don't .. please!" He didn't care that he was begging, or that his pleads were aimed at the man who had brought here in the first place. All he knew was that they could *not* leave him alone here.

"The decision was not mine to make," came the emotionless reply. Forcefully detaching the hands that still grabbed his clock, the man turned his back on him and exited the room, closing the door behind him with a harsh click as he did so.

The small light from the corridor that had momentarily cast the room in a sickly grey while it had still had access, disappeared the moment the door shut, causing a muted black to move in, and with it hidden demons that seemed to simply be biding their time before pouncing. Shivering, he slunk backwards until his back collided with the far wall. Letting his legs buckle under him, he brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly.

The blackness wasn't closing in on him, those *weren't* demons dancing in the corner of the room, he wasn't afraid, he wasn't ...

He lowered his head onto the top of his knees, and sobbed.

***

"What do you mean, there is nothing we can do?!" The usually even-tempered Arthur Weasley roared, slamming a fist down on the table. "We give the bastard what he wants - *anything* he wants."

"You know we can't do that, Arthur." The far too collected and calm Loriana Millers, Head of Defence replied. "War is a terrible thing, however at times sacrifices need to be made."

"You are *not* going to sacrifice my son!" Molly Weasley growled dangerously from her place next to her husband. "You will do whatever is necessary to bring him back, or there will be hell to pay."

"We don't even know what he wants!" Arthur protested, desperately.

"Yes we do," Albus Dumbledore spoke up softly from across the table. "We all know that Malfoy holds a grudge against you due to the Battle of Winnopea, you are the prize he has hunted for *years*, Arthur. The fact that you have Ministry information that would make Voldemort grin in glee is merely a side incentive."

"We are ready to make that sacrifice," Molly replied stiffly.

"But *we* are not!" Smithers Jonestone, head of Seek and Rescue responded heatedly. "We will *not* give up Ministry secrets to save one mere child."

"One mere child?!" Disbelief was etched into every line of Molly's face. "One *mere* child?! Why, you over blown windbag! I ought to..."

"Molly, that is enough," Crouch reprimanded harshly. "Surely there is *some* way we can come to an exchange that is agreeable to all parties."

"Precisely," Dumbledore agreed. "And I do believe I know of a way." he paused, making eye contact with each of the members of the Ministry's council before continuing.

"Ever heard of a Muggle term, fight fire with fire, my friends?"

***

He didn't know how long he was left alone in his private torture chamber - what felt like days was most likely only hours, the small, rational part of his brain told him, yet rationality was no defence against the increasing rising fear that seemed to consume everything like a greedy troll.

He hadn't moved from the spot against the wall, the terror of upsetting the demons far too great. So when the door was finally thrust open and dull light crept into the room from the barely lit corridor, he found that his body had stiffened up so much that he couldn't launch himself out of the room as his mind begged.

His own body had betrayed him. Traitor.

It was his Shadow who had returned; he had decided to call the man that during his many hours (minutes? days?) of isolation. This time instead of picking him up, he simply dragged him to his feet, ignoring the cry of pain that was the result of unstretched limbs.

"You are wanted," Shadow said gruffly, yet the way he still held his hand instead of letting it go went part way to diffusing the harsh words.

Percy clung to that hand like a lifeline, as he was lead out of the room and down the corridor. Even though the corridors were hardly well lit themselves, the contrast after so long made his eyes water slightly. Part of him wanted to squeeze them back shut, to avoid the harshness. Yet the more inquisitive part of him refused to, instead soaking in the unusual scenery, the rigid walls that seemed to speak of harshness and cruelty. Occasionally they passed another Death Eater, each seemingly more fierce and dark than the one before. He found himself practically hiding behind his Shadow whenever one was near, they radiated death and decay, and Percy was scared that simply being near one would somehow make that rub off onto him.

The room they finally reached was off to the side of the never-ending corridor. In design it was no different to anything else, Spartan and ... well, boring. Of the same stone that adorned the corridor, it was clearly meant to be an office, yet the room lacked the personality or warmth that his Pa's did.

But then, Percy mused as his eyes landed on exactly *who* was sitting behind the desk in front of him, Lucius was different from his Pa in pretty much every way...

The fear that had faded slightly after being freed from the room returned full force. Lucius scared him, the man was mean and nasty and, and ... dark. Nothing seemed to describe him better. Blackness seemed to follow him, *be* him.

"Sit." Lucius commanded, gesturing to a chair that was set up in front of his desk. Gingerly, he obeyed. Coldly studying him for a moment, it was a while before the man spoke up.

"When was the last time you saw your father, Percy?" The question surprised him. Why would Lucius want to know that? Surely he would rather know where Ma was hiding? But Ma would have most likely moved them all the moment he had been captured, Percy thought bitterly, remembering his mother's betrayal. *She* had left him with this monster. She was supposed to have saved him. The impatient glance from Lucius brought him harshly back to reality.

"6 months, 7 months?" He offered weakly, doing quick calculations in his head. "He visited Ma about two months ago, but I was asleep..."

"That's a long time, Percy - don't you miss him?" Again, Percy paused. He should miss Pa, shouldn't he? Yet his father was almost a stranger, he could only rarely visit the safe houses for fear of detection. But he was a nice man, and he always made sure Percy's book supply never ran out...

"Yes?" He replied timidly, shuffling nervously in his seat as the man's penetrating gaze rested on him.

"And would you like to see him again, soon?" Soft, almost gentle. Percy nodded his head vigorously; wine red hair flopping about wildly. Anything to get away from here. A malicious grin lit up Lucius' face.

"Let's hope dear old Pa feels the same way, hmm? Can you do something for me, Percy?" Lucius then asked, the same soft tone being applied. Again, Percy nodded, although this time it was far more reserved, almost cautious.

"Ah, good boy. See this little cube here? I want you to speak to it like it was your daddy, just so that he knows how much you miss him, hmm? I promise to pass it on to him."

"Promise?" Percy asked quietly, starring at the small cube. Would Pa *really* be able to hear him, and more importantly, would he *come* for him? Maybe Pa had more important things to do, he always seemed to...

"I promise, Percy - now be a good boy and co-operate."

***

He waited almost an hour after the boy had been taken back to his cell before connecting to the Ministry, taking that time to plan his revenge perfectly. Arthur Weasley would suffer before he died, why wait until he was officially in his hands?

They had been waiting for him, of course. Four days without hearing from him must have worried both of the Weasley's so terribly. How good of him to end their torment.

Upon seeing who the person on the other end of the visual connection was, the bland secretary quickly put him through to what Lucius was positive was some temporary meeting room that had been set up just for this call. After several moments, the outraged face of Arthur Weasley finally showed up through the mist.

"Lucius - I want my son back," He demanded in a low growl. Lucius grinned pleasantly at him in response.

"Now, now, Arthur - surely we could at least attempt some pretence of pleasantries. How has your week been? I must say, mine has been rather ... productive." His smile widened as Arthur growled again, yet the smile faded as an almost feral look came over the other man.

"Yes, yes - where *are* my manners?" The tone Arthur took set Lucius on edge - *he* was the one who was supposed to be playing games, not Arthur. Arthur wasn't in any position to be doing so. "My week has been rather ... complicated, but I do believe it is looking up."

"I have a message from your son," Lucius responded curtly, ending the game before it had barely started. "You know what I want in return." He played the small sound bite then, satisfaction creeping into his features as Arthur paled slightly as the pitiful voice pleaded with him to take him home. "Shall we arrange a time to make a swap - the child for yourself?"

"Children are such wonderful things, aren't they?" Arthur mused, confusing Lucius in a way that bothered him immensely. What was the matter with the man?! "They bring such joy, such fulfilment - wouldn't you agree, Lucius?"

Lucius froze as triumph spread across Arthur's face.

"And your son - such a sweet little thing, isn't he? All blonde and pretty."

"How did you know about him?" Lucius seethed, panic rising quickly to the surface as Arthur smirked in reply.

"I'm sure you are just dying to know Lucius, just as I *know* you would love to find out who personally handed him over to us."

"You're lying." Lucius denied hotly, unable to believe what the man was implying.

"I'm deadly serious." All hint of mockery was gone. Lucius' eyes widened in shock, as Molly Weasley appeared next to her husband, his month old son nesting in her arms, sound asleep.

"But ... how?!" Only a small handful of people knew his son even existed, fewer still where baby Draco and Narcissa were hiding. Who could have betrayed him? Arthur didn't bother to answer the question, instead, supplied one of his own.

"I think we need to re-evaluate the conditions of this little trade off, don't you?"

***

Twinkle, twinkle

He'd never thought he would miss the stars. They had taunted him for so long, hung there so tantalisingly - he would have crushed them without a wisp of hesitation if he had only had the power to do so.

Now, he longed for their company. The stars would have driven this unrelenting darkness back into the hole it had come from, scatter the demons like mere shadows on a bright summer day. Yet he had scorned them for their beauty, their freedom. They would not come to his aid. That fault was all his.

little star

It was *all* his fault - the darkness had taught him that. He was being punished because he had been bad - but he hadn't meant to! He had just needed to be free, to not be so restrained!

No wonder Ma had abandoned him. There had always been strict rules to obey, and the vast majority of them Percy had relentlessly followed. Yet he had needed his nightly outings, his own personal escapism from the war...

Never again, he vowed silently - one did not want to disrupt the demons. Never again would he break a single rule. Even though it often didn't seem like it, there was a reason they had each been made.

Please Ma, he pleaded quietly, biting his lip as more tears threatened to fall. Please forgive me - I promise to be good!

He wrapped the light blanket tightly around his frail shoulders - his Shadow had tossed it in some time ago. Time was as measurable as the ocean; he had long since stopped trying to gauge it.

All he knew was that the darkness never went away.

The odd piece of food or water he received was now apparated in; devoiding him of even the occasional light the corridor might have provided. He hadn't seen his Shadow since the blanket had arrived.

So he was surprised when the cell door slid open, more so when it was accompanied by a source of bright light. Yelping, he covered his eyes, shielding them from the searing pain the light caused.

"Get up!" The cold voice that haunted each sleep demanded. Blinking back the tears the onslaught of light had brought on, he slowly did so, glancing up at Lucius as he did. The fierce scowl on the man's face made him take a terror driven step back.

"You're father," Lucius began softly, each word dripping of ice. "Just made the biggest mistake of his life." Scared eyes became impossibly wider as the monster drew his wand up level with Percy's chest.

"Please, no! I promise to be a good boy, I'm sure Pa didn't mean it, of course he didn't!" He didn't care that he was babbling, or that he had no idea what either his father had done *or* what Lucius planned to do. All he knew was that it was bad...

"Crucio!"

***

The sobs racked his small frame, convulsions and tremors running marathons up and down his body. Hoarse screams tore themselves painfully from his throat, begging for the torture to stop, promising the sun and the moon if it did.

He didn't realise that it had, many hours ago.

Each fibre, each bone, each *cell*, sung an individual octave of pain, harmonising perfectly to create a hellish symphony. It hurt, oh Gods, it hurt ...

And then, the darkness was not due to the lack of light.

***

They had, rather ironically, agreed to make the exchange by the stream that Percy had first been snatched from. There were enough vantage points for both set of snipers to hide, causing each to easily cancel each other out. While both Lucius and Arthur had agreed to bring only one other person, neither believed the other would do so.

Molly had been livid when Arthur had calmly stated that it would be best if Albus accompanied him. No amount of persuasion had been able to convince her that she shouldn't walk beside her husband, and it was only when Albus had taken her aside and talked to her in private that she had finally calmed down and assented.

She had never shared that conversation with him. Perhaps later, Arthur would ask her what was said.

And so it was, that he waited nervously in the clearing with the Head of Hogwarts, and perhaps, Arthur suspected, one of the greatest Wizards of all time. There were few better to be watching your back. Even with that knowledge, he still stiffened when Lucius and his companion apparated right in front of them.

"What have you done?!" He hoarsely demanded, eyes landing on the heap that was his son in the other man's arms. Bruises covered a far too pale face, and his breathing was much too slow and raspy.

The cruciatus curse, dear Gods. He would kill the man for hurting his son.

"I don't remember there being anything in our agreement that said they had to be unharmed," Lucius replied aloofly, yet his dark gaze belied the casual tone. "Severus, hold this thing, will you?" He dumped the child like a bag of dirty laundry into the other man's waiting arms. "Now, my son?"

"We will exchange them together," Arthur growled, eyes still fixated on his young son. "You will have to forgive my apparent lack of trust."

Lucius smirked, yet it was empty, devoid of anything other than superficial bravado. He said nothing as Albus gently placed a cranky looking Draco into his arms, attempted even less as Severus did the same with the boy. Cradling the small, broken body securely in his arms, Arthur turned eyes of burning embers on Lucius.

"I will hunt you down and destroy you, Malfoy," he declared. It was neither a threat nor an intimidation, simply a statement of fact. And it had far more of an effect on Lucius than he would ever be willing to admit. Without another word, Lucius apparated away, son safely in his arms. After a quick nod in their direction, and a gaze that lingered briefly on the small child, Severus followed suit.

A timid whimper from his precious bundle drew Arthur's gaze immediately away from the spot the men had been on, and down onto his son. Bruised eyes that had been closed in unconsciousness now attempted to force their way open, blinking blearingly at the sharp light.

"Pa?" The question was a distant whisper, spoken as though speaking any louder was either impossible or caused too much pain. Considering what Arthur suspected he had been through, that was of little surprise.

"I'm here, Percy," he murmured softly, gently brushing aside the unruly red hair that framed the small face. "There is no need to strain yourself, Perce - it's safe now."

"I'm sorry," Percy continued, not seeming to hear is father. "Tell Ma I'm sorry as well?" Arthur nodded silently. Percy was in little state to argue with right now, he would correct the fact he appeared to think this was all his fault when Percy was actually able to comprehend it.

"And the stars to," he added, forcing the words out slowly. "Tell the stars..." the quite voice trailed off as he once again slipped unconsciousness, hands that had clenched his shirt loosening before falling to the side.

"And the stars as well," Arthur softly promised as he prepared to apparate along with Albus. "And the stars as well."

And somewhere, a small boy danced with the stars.