TBGCTBGC
One Night
Chapter Three
Stupid curse. Stupid goddamned ancestors who had probably thought it was a bloody brilliant idea. Oh yes, positively brilliant. Curse their own family line in about three different ways. One to ensure that the first born would always be male, another to sterilize all Malfoy men with the exception of the youngest, and a last to make sure that should something happen to that youngest heir his father would be able to have another child. There was more to it, much more; if it had been that simple someone would have found a way around it by now, but they hadn’t and he’d knocked up Harry and that was that.
Why hadn’t he told Harry? Draco thumped his head against the dorm room wall in frustration. Why hadn’t he told him about that? He’d told him everything else. Well, almost everything. He had most certainly not brought up the fact that his mother read him bedtime stories right up until he left for Hogwarts, he’d not mentioned that he’d fallen off his broom well more than the average number of times before getting it right, and he would never, under pain of death or cruciatus, tell Harry he’d wet his bed when he was six.
He had, however, told him the important bits. Harry knew, for instance, exactly what he’d rather do than become a death eater (there had been some rather descriptive suggestions made), but that the thought of being disinherited was far more painful than death. Harry knew he had a pension for interior design and fashion even though he was decidedly not gay, although decidedly straight was debatable at this moment. For god’s sake Harry knew he’d lost his virginity to Parkinson.
The answer, of course, was very simple, the subject of children had just never come up. Never, in all their talks, had either of them said ‘hey, how many kids do you want?’ It wasn’t an issue. Staying alive was an issue and, seeing as they were teenage boys, having sex was an issue, but children were the last thing on either of their minds.
Draco buried his head in his pillow and screamed into it, slamming his fist against the mattress a few frustrated times before taking a deep breath and rolling over onto his back. It just couldn’t happen. Regardless of whether his father disinherited him, regardless of whether his lost all the money, he was still the only Malfoy heir, it was still up to him to carry out the Malfoy family line.
That was, of course, unless his father killed him. Once again cursing his ancestors for their foresight in establishing that little bi-clause he wondered if his father would in fact kill him and have another heir. It wasn’t impossible, his father was old, but not that old by wizarding standards. He was only in his fifties, if he wanted another son it was perfectly viable. The Parkinsons might be pissed off, seeing as Draco was bethroved to Pansy, but they’d get over it, and, besides, it wasn’t like the marriage could go through now anyway.
Taking yet another deep, calming breath, Draco analyzed the situation, trying to get around one simple fact; he could not carry on the family name through Potter. He just couldn’t. He had two options, he could wait for his father to find out and kill him, Harry, and the baby, or he could handle it himself. ‘Handle it,' however, meant doing something he wasn’t sure he could.
He thought back to the first time he and Harry had gotten drunk. Most of the night was a blur, but there were certain parts that were very clear, one of those was Harry telling him how much he wanted a real family. But this wasn’t a real family, was it? This was some fluke, and they weren’t going to live happily ever after, it would be an utter disaster and that was if they lived long enough to see it through.
Lucius Malfoy was not the only concern, there was also Voldemort. How could Harry fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he was trying to take care of a baby, trying to keep it safe? The baby would become an instant target, not to mention that Harry would be vulnerable while pregnant; his magic was sustaining the life and if there was an attack, if the death eaters came after him, there was no way he would be able to fight them off.
It just wasn’t right, none of it was right. Word would get out soon and when it did there was no telling how much time they’d have before Voldemort decided to take this divine opportunity to strike. This was bad for both of them, it put both their lives at risk. The middle of a war was not the time to be having children, especially not for people who were already wearing two of the biggest bloody targets; or soon would be.
He swung his legs over the side of his bed and went to his trunk, opening it quietly. After several minutes of rummaging carefully through the priceless contents he came up with a book and set it in his lap, running his thin fingers over the delicately imprinted letters, ‘A Complete Guide to Herbs and Their Properties.’
Towards the back was a chapter he had never bothered to look in before, ‘Holistic Healing and Pregnancy.’ There he found a very long list of herbs that should not be taken during pregnancy and the reasons why. Scanning the list, he took another deep breath to still his heart, which seemed to be trying to make a painful escape. Draco scrambled back up onto his bed, forgetting to close his trunk as he cradled the book to his chest, reassure himself that he was doing the right thing.
This for Harry as much as it was for him. Harry couldn’t afford this. It was for Harry.
____________________
Draco did not sleep that night and was eternally grateful for the pepper up potion he had stored right next to the alcohol in the secret compartment of his double layered trunk. As he walked down the hall to lunch he brushed his fingers through his gelled hair, making sure it was securely in place, then shoved them discretely into the pocket of his robe, feeling the little vial of American mandrake in his pocket.
He’d had three choices--American mandrake, poke root, and penny royal; of those, American mandrake was the most commonly used in potions. It would be very easy for the miscarriage to be blamed on him having ingested it in class at some point, especially seeing as it had to be administered in several small doses over the week rather than all at once. Mandrake, in all forms, was a fairly potent poison if too much was used at one time and he had no intentions of killing Harry. If Draco did this right, Harry would just be a little ill for a few days afterwards.
He had the mandrake, but now he had to figure out how to get Harry to take it. He couldn’t very well walk up to him and say ‘take this, it’ll make it all better.’ Harry knew him too well to fall for something like that without knowing what the hell was in the bottle and doing a good week of research on it first. Not that Harry didn’t have good cause. The last time those words had left Draco’s mouth was when he handed Harry the first bottle of alcohol.
Filing into the Great Hall with the other students, Draco made a quick scan of the Gryffindor table, looking for Harry. And he found him. Harry, despite the bags under his eyes showing that he had gotten very little sleep, was flushed. Hell, he might as well have been glowing. Ron leaned over and said something in his ear that made him cheeks go from slightly pink to bright red and Hermione giggled, obviously having heard.
For a moment, the blonde just watched the three. Didn’t have mood swings his ass. If this wasn’t a mood swing Draco was the son of a mudblood whore; whore, yes, mudblood, no. He shoved off the wall he had been leaning against and walked briskly over to the Gryffindor table. "Potter."
Harry lifted his head from the crook of his arm, where he had buried it a few moments before. The red in his cheek vanished and Draco felt his stomach drop a little. Whatever had been making Harry so happy had nothing to do with him. "Malfoy?"
Weasley shot a dirty look at the Slytherin over Harry’s shoulder, but Draco ignored it, leaning down to whisper in Harry’s ear, lowering his voice so the others couldn’t hear them, "As long as you carry the Malfoy family heir you will eat properly." He stood straight again, feeling unwelcome and confusing pride when he noted the flush was back in Harry’s face. "Are we clear?" Chuckling at Harry’s quick, urgent nod, Draco leaned back down, using one hand to support himself and the other to start piling starch laden food onto Harry’s plate, "Now, we need to talk. Usual place, but we’d better do it right after potions as you seem to need a good nights sleep."
Oh, now Harry was full out blushing again, even his ears had turned red at the mention of his obvious late night, "Honestly, Malfoy..." but he seemed be having trouble coming up with something to say, so he settled on, "Fine, after Potions."
Draco went to his own house table and ate solemnly, the unwelcome pride still welled in his chest. He had made Harry blush. It wasn’t anything beyond a friendly interest and he knew he should have become used to this by now. It was the same way he’d felt when they’d agreed to have sex. ‘Just to make him happy.’ Now he was willing to do something that could very well get him put in Azkaban and for what? ‘To keep him safe.’ The silent after thought of ‘to keep myself safe’ nagged at the back of his mind, but he ignored it, focusing on Harry.
Was it more? Did he like Harry? Did he more than like him? There hadn’t been many people in Draco’s life that he could say he liked, and there was no one he could say he loved. The episode with Pansy had been just that, an episode to lose his virginity. He’d have to have been blind to find the woman physically attractive, and her personalty was absolutely grating.
Had he liked anyone? Certainly not his father; a father who would subject his son to torture just to hear him say he’d join a defeated lord. Voldemort hadn’t even been resurrected the first time he’d cursed that out of him. It hadn’t taken much, at the time Draco wasn’t afraid he’d have to follow through with the promise. No, Lucius Malfoy could go to hell and it wouldn’t be enough. Narcissa wasn’t far behind. She had never been mom, or mommy. Draco had called her that when he was four and been slapped for his effort. She was mother, only mother, a cold, indistinct, dispassionate tittle that fit her very well. She may not deserve retribution, but she never did anything to deserve his love.
By the time he found himself waiting in the abandoned room for Harry, his mind was swimming in thought. The closest he’d come to actually trusting anyone before Harry, was Snape. Professor Snape had never told his father anything. No matter what Draco had done, no matter how he’d acted up, Snape always took it upon himself to lecture and reprimand him rather than going to Lucius. There were times, early on, when he’d been mad at Snape for that, mad at the attention he wasn’t getting from his father, but in the end he was always grateful.
So, he liked Snape; even if the man was being an utter ass as of recent, he still hadn’t turned him over to his father when he’d cocked an attitude the other day. A small chuckle escaped Draco’s throat as he remembered calling Snape a bastard. He really shouldn’t have gone that far, but thinking about it now he realized exactly how much he must trust his professor to have said that.
Not that any of this was helping him decide where he stood with Harry. He knew he liked him, but he liked Snape too and in an entirely different way. Draco had never, and would never, go out of his way to make Professor Snape blush or laugh or smile. Harry on the other hand... When Harry smiled he lit up a room. When Harry laughed Draco could hear it from across the Great Hall. When Harry blushed his insides twisted up. When Harry blushed for him it was all he could do not to blush back.
Lifting his knees up, Draco hung his head between them, his hand clenched around the muggle Coke spiked with American mandrake that he intended to give Harry. He’d remembered, and god only knew how, Harry saying he really liked Coke, but that he was lucky if he got water at the Dursleys’ and at Hogwarts it was almost unheard of, literally.
He tried not to imagine Harry’s face when he saw it. Draco could see Harry’s eyes in the back of his head, bright and just that shade of green. Damnit! He could not be in love with Harry Potter. Concerned was bad enough, but love? "Not good, not good."
"What’s not good?" Draco’s head shot up and saw Harry’s head peaking into the room. "Sorry it took so long to get here, Professor Snape wanted to see me."
Taking a deep breath, Draco felt the cold can against his fingers, condensation dripping into his palm, "About what?"
"He says I’m not concentrating." Harry smiled strangely, "Like I ever do, right?"
Draco took a deep breath and held the coke out stiffly towards Harry, "I thought you might like this."
Those eyes were a perfect match to his imagination, but the starved look on Harry’s face as he grabbed the can and popped it open, probably draining half of it in one gulp, was nothing like what he expected. With a deep sigh of relief, Harry slide down the wall and sat next to Draco, "Oh, god, so good."
After a moment of forced silence Draco laughed, sudenly not caring who heard, "You make it sound like sex, Potter."
Harry winked suggestively, taking another gulp and moaning lewdly, "Better than, if the sex is with you."
Draco started to elbow him, but stopped short, smirking instead to cover the sudden pang of hurt in his chest that he didn’t feel like investigating. "Potter, look, I know I got upset yesterday. It’s just that ‘I’m pregnant,’ or variations thereof, was not something I expected to hear."
"I never expected to have to say it, but I think I’m getting used to it. Maybe it’s easier for me because I’ve always wanted it. Well, not wanted to get knocked up, but I did want a family, so I suppose I can live with the inconvenience of timing or whatever. It just doesn’t matter."
When he heard Harry put the empty can down he closed his eyes for a moment. Damn, no way to deny it, that was guilt he felt eating at the inside of his stomach like acid. "So, what’s the great plan? I’m assuming getting our own apartment after graduation is not an option anymore."
Harry shook his head and started to stand up. Draco noticed him leaning heavily on the wall for support and jumped up to help, guilt eating even further into his conscience. The Gryffindor shook off the offered arm and straightened, "Stop that. I’m not... delicate or anything, just tired."
Draco found himself grinning mischievously, "You are to delicate. You’re about as skinny as an undernourished house elf and you fall off your broom at least once a year."
He dodged Harry’s swinging arm, seeing the amused light glinting behind the green eyes, the mouth slightly upturned in a poorly hidden smile and, without allowing himself time to really think, he grabbed the back of Harry’s head and kissed him. It was quick, it was over in an instant, but for some reason it felt longer. Nothing more than a peck. He’d twined his fingers into the unruly black mass and pressed his lips to Harry’s, just to see.
Pulling back, he scrunched his nose up, purposefully not looking at Harry’s shocked face and limply hanging arms. Well, at least he’d managed to kill the guilt with a good old fashion dose of embarrassment. They had kissed when they had sex, open mouthed and passionate, but he hadn’t been paying attention; too much of his brain had been caught up in ‘oh my god, I’m about to have sex with a boy.’
Draco had thought, or rather hadn’t, that kissing Harry again would help him make up his mind, and it had. The only problem was that now he had even more questions than before.
Harry seemed to be coming out of his shock induced state, "What was that?"
The Slytherin shrugged, brushing hair out his face and noting offhandedly that it was blonde again. Harry’s retribution usually didn’t last very long. "A kiss. I thought maybe I liked you as more than a friend."
"Do you?"
He looked at Harry’s face and rolled his eyes, "I don’t know."
Harry looked around the room uncertainly before closing the door, silently thankful no one had been passing when Draco had decided to kiss him. That was the last thing he needed. "Malfoy, do you like me as more than a friend?"
For a nearly a minute the only sound was their breathing. When Draco spoke Harry nearly jumped in start, "Yeah, but not like that. I don’t want to talk about it."
"Then you probably shouldn’t have kissed me." Draco leaned against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Malfoy." The tone was more demanding than questioning.
Draco rolled his eyes and looked at Harry, trying to figure out how to say he didn’t know without looking like a complete wanker. "I... don’t know." ‘Oh brilliant, now I sound like the peak of intelligence.’
Harry was staring at him like he had lost his mind, not that he could blame him. "All right. You like me as more than a friend, but not like that. Let's start with how do you like me?"
Turning the question over in his mind Draco frowned, "Does it matter? I’m not answering your stupid questions, Potter."
"Yes, it matters!" Harry put a hand on stomach, "I am pregnant, Malfoy, with... with your child." His brows furrowed, "What the hell made you suddenly like me, anyway?"
God, if Harry would just move away from the door he could make a break for it. "The whole baby issue. I just started thinking about it, and I realized I do worry about you all the bloody time, no matter how hard I try to deny it, and we hang out a lot. I know I spend most of that time pissing you off, but I still - I can’t believe I’m admitting this - like being around you. So I just thought maybe that meant something more, but I kissed you and there wasn’t anything there so that means I still have to figure out why I like being around you and why I’m concerned."
For a moment the room was utterly silent, then Harry put his hand up to his mouth, chuckling into it. Draco scowled, "Don’t you dare laugh, Potter. Pregnant or not, I will still kick your arse."
Harry shook his head emphatically, trying desperately to control his laughter, "I’m not laughing at... no, wait, I am."
"Sod off, Potter"
"No, look, Malfoy," Draco glared as Harry tried to keep a straight face, "You like me the way you like your father."
The blonde’s eyes slitted in revulsion, "I in no way think of you like my father. I don’t want you dead."
"Then a brother."
The revulsion doubled, "You and the Weasel are like brothers and I refuse to be put in the same category as him."
"A cousin then." When the thin mouth opened to protest again, Harry put his hand over it, "A very distant cousin. The point is you like me like you like family."
"And what makes you such a fucking expert?"
"Not an expert, just observant. Think about it, Malfoy, in the meantime, I’ve got homework."
In the back of his mind, jumbled among the thoughts of ‘if’ and ‘he could be right,’ Draco noted that Harry went the wrong way as he left the room.
____________________
According to Draco’s calculations it should have been a week before either Harry or the baby were affected. He had taken to sitting with Harry, Weasley, and Granger for breakfast, mostly because it was easier to slip him the herbs that way rather than having to get his hands on another stupid Coke. Although, he had every intention of getting one by the end of the week; that orgasmic face had been far too... oh, god, had he just thought cute?
Putting his head in his hands, he ignored Professor Sinistra’s glare at his inattention. So, he’d admitted that he liked Harry as family and, in fact, he thought that his feeling towards the Gryffindor were very similar to those he had for Professor Snape. He silently damned his father again, for telling him Malfoy’s did not like people, let alone love them; they did like them, it was just that most were too ignorant to recognize it.
He shoved all thoughts of his father aside and bit back a grin as the first thing that came to mind was the cheekish guilt on Harry’s face that morning at breakfast. In the last three days Harry had downed so much orange juice Draco was beginning to fear the house elves would run out of oranges. His voiced concern had been rewarded with much blushing and many sharp elbows.
Due to the hours of frustrating calculations and research he had done regarding male pregnancy he was more than just a little shocked when Professor Snape showed up during his Arithmacy exam and requested to speak with him outside. Harry had apparently collapsed during Divination.
Draco nodded, pretending to listen to his head of house while he turned the information over in his head. He could feel some disappointment, but wasn’t sure if it was because he had miscalculated, or because it was done. The guilt that had been continually eating at him had suddenly gone numb. Could be good, could be bad, he wasn’t really sure. There was relief, it was over, it was done, no taking it back, no worrying about whether he should or shouldn’t.
So, why didn’t he feel particularly better?
Professor Snape touched his arm lightly and his head snapped up, his eyes focusing on the concerned face in front of him. "Mr, Malfoy, I believe it would be best if you went back to your dorm for the remainder of the evening. I’ll speak with the other professors."
Draco nodded and began walking toward the dungeons. Professor Snape looked... well, there really wasn’t a good way of describing it, he just looked different. Stiffer maybe, if that were possible, and his emotions were entirely unreadable. He didn’t look angry or annoyed, which were his two favorite expressions, he didn’t even look guarded, just blank. Well, not entirely blank, if Draco didn’t know better he’d say Snape was anxious about something. The professor turned and walked towards the infirmary, rather quickly, without even one of his customary long glances.
Strange, but then the whole thing was strange. Sitting in his room, hours later, he glared wordlessly at his sheets. He hadn’t gone down for lunch, and dinner had already starting. What was wrong with him? He should have been ecstatic that the whole thing was over and done with, he should have been jumping for joy and laughing with his friends. The great trauma that had the potential to get him killed, and Harry as well, was gone. It was no more.
All right, that was it. Jumping off his bed he made his way up the stairs and out of the commons room. As long as everyone was busy eating he might as well go and see Harry. Maybe that was what he was worried about, maybe some part of him wanted to cheer Harry up. It made sense, well, as much sense as any of his wayward emotions did now a days.
Over all, Draco was getting really tired of emotions. It had started out really simply, as a need to vent, to not hold in everything the way every other Malfoy always did. Now he knew why they did it. You let out one and the rest came pouring out whether you wanted them to or not. Love, guilt, relief, anxiety, nerves, everything was piling up now that he couldn’t talk to Harry and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it in, but, then, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to tell.
Silently entering the infirmary, he looked around for Harry. The Gryffindor was laying in his usual bed, in the far left hand corner. He was curled on his side, his fingers clutched around the blankets that he’d pulled against his face. Draco tried to snicker. He looked like a little child. Why didn’t that help?
He’d just turned around, deciding that waking Harry was probably not the best thing to do at the moment, when a barely audible whisper reached him, "Draco? That you?"
The words were slurred together, and despite the inexplicable urge to run, Draco walked over to the bed and sat down, eyeing the vials on the side table, "Yeah, it’s me. They told me and..." Oh great, the guilt was back, and it felt like it had brought a few cousins. "Well, I just wanted to come and see if you were all right?"
Harry shook his head, his face was remarkable lax, "Not really. I kind of think I had a nervous breakdown. Sssnape gave me something and I feel better now, though."
Draco smiled at the way Harry had scrunched his nose and drawn the S out in their professor’s name, like it had felt funny on his tongue. "But you’re better now?"
He shook his head, black hair falling in his face, "No, not really. It’s gone. I’m not sure what... I... but it’s gone." It was quiet for some time after, Draco thought he might have fallen asleep when he suddenly spoke up again, "Hey, what’d they give me, anyway? I can’t read the labels, but this is some good shite."
Laughing softly, Draco picked up the two empty vials and his eyebrows shot up, "My god, Potter, this is good. This is one of the strongest calming potions there is. I think the only one stronger is used for the Cruciatus victims and only when their having a particularly bad night. And this other one is a numbing potion, very strong as well."
Harry mumbled something of which Draco caught ‘stupid greasy bastard’ and chuckled. "Why, Potter, if he ever heard you say that."
"He’d not that bad."
Draco’s eyes just about fell out of his head, staring at the overly serene face, "Not that bad? Maybe if you were a Slytherin, but even then, Potter, the man hates you."
"He doesn’t." Harry shook his head duly and Draco brushed the stray hairs out of the unfocused green eyes, "He says I’m an insolent little prat, but he doesn’t hate me, he only does it to turn me on." Harry’s hands flew up to his mouth far faster than he should have been capable of.
For nearly a minute Draco’s mind refused to process the information. He sat in the chair, staring down at Harry’s face which was the oddest mix of relaxed shock. Draco stopped breathing for a moment, his guilt ridden brain running things through it once more, just to make sure, ‘Wait a moment, he just said turn me on and he was talking about S..., "Wait, he what?!"
Harry shook his head emphatically, taking his hands carefully from his mouth, "He nothing. Absolutely nothing."
Squinting his eyes suspiciously at Harry, he leaned forward, "Potter, I just heard you say that Professor Snape, my head of house, the most unattractive man in Hogwarts..."
"He is not!" Draco raised an eyebrow at the defensive note in Harry’s otherwise calm demeanor, "There’s always Dumbledore. Or Flitwick. At least I’m not fucking professor Flitwick."
The hands covered his mouth again, and Draco stared, open mouthed. That was in no way an obscure message. The other could have been passed off as their flirting with each other which, while disturbing, was not nearly as horrifying as the thought of them sleeping together. "Potter, while I do like to consider myself intelligent, or at least more so than you, would you mind telling me exactly what you meant by that? Only I thought I heard you insinuate you were having sex with Snape."
Harry gave a very uncharacteristic giggle and it occurred to Draco that while the conversation may be causing him permanent psychological damage it was at least making Harry feel better. "I... am really not supposed to be telling you this, Draco, I mean really. But I suppose, at least now I know how Hagrid feels."
Draco forced himself ignored that Harry had used his given name, "I don’t care how that great oaf feels, I care how I feel, and right now that’s slightly nauseous. Potter, tell me you didn’t. Tell me you’re just, I don’t know, momentarily out of your mind."
"Oh, that’s easy. I am out of my mind." The rush of adrenaline, or whatever it was, Harry had been feeling after his slip of the tongue was apparently wearing off. He smiled lazily, "But I wasn’t when I was bent over your desk taking..."
"Potter!" Draco put his hands over his ears, telling his wayward emotions that, no, this was not good. Hearing Potter's light hearted chuckle was not good if it meant sacrificing what little he’d eaten that morning. "Hold a moment, my desk?"
Harry grinned impishly, his eyes slightly misted, "Well, our desk really, but you’re side, because it’s closer to the isle and it gives Sev more room to..."
Draco grabbed the empty vial of calming potion off the side table and tipped the few left over drops that had pooled at the bottom into his own mouth, cringing at the taste and the way his tongue went momentarily numb before the cold of the calming potion swept through his body, leaving him slumped in his chair against Harry’s bed. "Oh, that better." It wouldn’t last long, maybe five minutes, maybe ten, but he figured when it wore off he could try and break into the reserve cabinet across the room.
"You, Potter, are going to tell me why."
Harry grinned mischievously, and Draco immediately knew he wouldn’t like what was about to come out of his friend’s mouth, however the potion prevented him from immediately feeling the panic he should have. "Well, I was being insolent again, and he got really mad this time and decided to spank me and it hurt, too, but it kind of turned me on and there wasn’t really a bed handy. I suppose I could have walked through the dungeons back to his room with him, but I had a rather obvious hard on so he..."
His brain finally caught up with what he was hearing and groaned, "Harry! Not, ‘why on the desk,’ ‘why Snape?’ When Snape? Was I so bad I put you off the human species?"
"Snape is human and it had nothing to do with you, anyway, it started the end of last year."
Draco could feel curiosity tickling at him, despite his better judgement, and he laid his head next to Harry’s, staring him in the eyes, "You were sleeping with him during sixth year?"
Shaking his black hair slowly, Harry lowered his voice slightly, as though there were someone around to hear. "No, we just started seeing each other and, before you ask, it’s none of your business why."
Draco thought it through. Harry was right, it wasn’t any of his business, but he figured he could get it out of him some other time. Some time when the Gryffindor wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The guilt cheered on the logical side of his brain and his stomach flipped a few times. Damnit, he would have preferred mindless disgust.
Neither said anything for a while, Draco wondered whether dinner was over, but figured Potters friends would be here as soon as it was. The potion was wearing off, but it was still enough of an influence to allow him to think properly. "Hey, Potter."
"Hm?"
"If you’ve been sleeping with Snape, why did you want to have sex with me?"
Harry took a deep breath, in and out, before answering, "He... said something, it made me upset and I wanted to get even."
Looking up, Draco eyed Harry suspiciously, "What could he have said that would warrant me fucking you?"
"Attempting to fuck me." Harry chuckled hoarsely at the face Draco made, as though he’d eaten something extra sour. "He said he’d slept with Sirius and then he laughed at me when I got upset."
"He cheated on you?" Draco’s voice was far calmer than he thought it ought to be. He should be feeling rather indignant. Someone had cheated on his first and, at the rate he was going, only friend. Damn calming potion, goes right ahead and quenched indignation and panic, but doesn’t do a damn thing for guilt.
It didn’t seem to matter, however, because Harry had shook his head, "No, no, back when they were here, at Hogwarts, before the whole... thing happened."
Draco looked Harry in the eyes, "You know, I’m beginning to think I may confide in you a lot more than you do in me. I mean, I told you I slept with Parkinson and you can’t even tell me my head of house is boffing you, or that he was boffing a convict before hand."
"Oh, about that, Sirius didn’t do it. He’s innocent. He gave me the firebolt. And Severus wasn’t ‘boffing’ anything, Sirius was."
"I knew you weren’t telling me... oh, oh now I have a mental image, Potter, and I did not need a mental image." He closed his eyes, but found that all it did was make the vision of his Potions Professor bent over double having sex with the man that he’d seen in the article their third year clearer. Logically, he knew they’d been younger and there was a chance, however minimal, that Snape and the shaggy convict had been somewhat attractive, but the logical side of his brain was refusing to have anything to do with him. He rather thought it had teamed up with the guilt.
Harry nodded, "See, that’s what I said and he laughed at me."
"Potter, not to undermine what I’m sure was a painful experience, but why were you asking in the first place?"
"Stupid trust issues, that’s why. He never talks, just sits there and scowls, or smirks, he’s as good at it as you are. So, I told him he had to tell me something, something really personal and I don’t think he liked that very much because what he told me was that he and Sirius had sex back when they were in school. To make it worse, he told me details and when I said I didn’t need those mental images he told me I shouldn’t have asked."
Harry’s voice had slowly risen in pitch and he sighed deeply, "So, I got upset." He sounded calmer, suddenly, and it unnerved Draco. What if the potion were wearing off? What if Harry started breaking down again before Snape got back, and where was Snape, anyway? This was his (shudder) lover. Shouldn’t he be at his side when he was hurt?
The raven haired boy’s breathing evened, Draco hadn’t even noticed it had been faster, and his voice lowered to a near whisper, "So, when you offered to help I just figured, hey, what better way to get even then have sex with someone he doesn’t want to picture. You. He sees you like a son," he paused, "or a nephew. You know what, though, I only felt worse afterward, and not just physically either."
"Um, Harry, are you okay? Maybe I should..."
Harry didn’t seem to hear him, though, he’d gone into a kind of trance and Draco felt the potion wearing completely off himself, he was feeling the panic that told him this was not good, something wasn’t right. "I felt worse because I wasn’t mad that he’d slept with Sirius, I wasn’t even really mad that he’d laughed at me. I was just furious that he laughed. He’d never laughed. He chuckles, he smirks, he even gives the occasional wicked smile when he’s in a very, very good mood, but he never laughs, and when he finally did it was at my expense."
"So, I slept with you and then I told him, because Pomfrey couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and he was okay with it. Although, I did understand why he’d laughed. The way his nose got all scrunchy was priceless, like he’d eaten something gone horrible wrong."
Draco looked around the room, nervously. Couldn’t someone just come in? Harry was going to regret all this in the morning. He’d never been this free lipped. Not even drunk. He’d talked, but not like this. He’d talked about the Weasel or Granger or, on very rare occasions, the surface side of the Dursleys, but never anything really important.
He decided it was best to voice his opinions, at least this way he could tell Harry he’d tried to talk him out of it. "Harry, come on, you’re really going to regret this, you never tell me important shite. Never."
Harry shook his head firmly and Draco noticed his pupils weren’t as dilated. Great, the potion was definitely wearing off and where the hell was Snape? Maybe the lock on the cabinet wasn’t too hard to break. "Draco, I am sick and tired of everyone telling me I can’t trust you. I can, I know I can."
‘No, no don’t trust me’
"You aren’t like they say you are, you aren’t just another self serving Slytherin. That’s all just made up words to group a bunch of people together and make it easier to identify them. He’s brave, she’s smart, he’s tricky, she’s loyal. It’s all words, it doesn’t mean anything."
‘But it does mean something, I am like that, I’ve always been like that.’ Draco tried to take back the thought, but it was there and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, it was true. He was entirely self serving. He hadn’t done this for Harry. Harry wanted it, Harry would have been fine. If Dumbledore could protect Harry and this entire school than one small child wouldn’t make much of a difference.
If that were true, though, then why had he done it? ‘My father would have killed me.’ Oh, fine, so he’d done to save his own arse. The guilt was doing a little victory dance and he fought the urge to run to the nearest toilet. He’d killed the baby and he’d hurt Harry and he’d done it for the sole purpose of not giving his father another reason to kill him,.
Harry reached out his hand and seized Draco’s wrist, startling the Slytherin from his thoughts, "I trust you and you have a right to know, you always did." Before Draco could pull back, his hand was placed firmly on top of Harry’s stomach and held there.
It was large. Far larger than it should have been. Now that he looked he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed. It was like a small basketball was inside there. Feeling around it, Draco took several deep breaths, telling the guilt to stop dancing, it wasn’t helping. "It grew so fast..."
"No, no it didn’t. It’s... well, it was six months along."
Staring at it dumbly, Draco gulped like a fish, "Six months? But we didn’t.. Not six months ago, anyway."
Harry shook his head, "No, we didn’t. But Sev and I did. One of the first few times we got drunk." Draco tried to breath. "He’d been so mad the first time. I thought anything was better than him having to see me drunk again. So, I snuck in and took some myself. Thing is I have a tendency to pass out on the floor when I have a hang over, regardless of what I’ve actually taken. It never occurred to me it could have been the wrong thing."
It wasn’t his. Harry was trying to tell him it wasn’t his.
"We noticed I’d gained weight, and Sev even made some rather dry jokes about being able to fuck me without worrying about my breaking, but it wasn’t until we were doing inventory that it occurred to me."
He’d killed it and it wasn’t his. He’d thought it was his, but it wasn’t.
"They said I could tell you after school let out. I started really showing almost as soon as we knew, so we needed a back up story, just in case someone noticed. Sev... well, we didn’t want it getting out that it was his while there were still so many people in the school. ‘Mione and Ron were going to stay too, to help me tell you."
School was out in two weeks. Everyone would have gone home and he would have known.
"It’s too big for my body to just, I dunno, absorb. Pomfrey said she’ll take it out tomorrow. I just can’t help but think I did something wrong. She says it was something I ate, something with a bad potion ingredient in it, probably some time ago. I just can’t help thinking it’s my fault."
Harry had let go of his hand, but Draco couldn’t take it away. It was so real all of a sudden. It hadn’t been really real before, just a thing he couldn’t see and if he couldn’t see it then it was all right to get rid of it. But it was real, he could feel the bulge of it under his finger tips and against his palm and it was his fault it was dead. Who had he been to decide it was better off dead? That he was better off with it dead?"
"Harry I..." He watched the green eyes focus on him, could see the guilt in the watery depths and the slightly pouted lip.
"I’m sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry. I thought it was mine."
-tbc-