For Survival

 Disclaimer: I do not own in anyway or form the characters nor the world of Harry Potter, they belong to the author who has created them, nor am I making any money from this story.

Author's note: This story should be pretty straight forward, I do not intend for it to be overly long. This will contain HP/DM, HP/BZ, there will be homosexual sex implied and graphic (I hope), male pregnancy and deceptions. This story follows the Harry Potter series and begins the last week of August 2005.

Warnings: All should be warned that I am dyslexic and that English is not my first language. Should my mistakes bother you I would be honoured to have you as a proof reader.

Summary: Dealing with the death of his first lover, an overbearing second one and a pregnancy that is not what it seems might have been more than Harry had planed and wanted for his life after the war.





 

For Survival

Chapter One

Plane Crash

The fight had been going on for days on end. His Slytherin lover had decided to leave him for six whole months in order to harvest rare potion ingredients from rare magical beasts. Worse was, not only was he going to have to take a muggle plane, but there would be no way of communication! Six months of no contact! No conversations, no verbal fights, no holding hands, no cuddling and no sex. Not even floo calls, phone calls or letters neither the muggle way or by owl.



Their friends just stopped coming by because they would keep on fighting even in their presence. While their arguments never got violent it left them hurting. They would never seek to damage one another but they always seemed to. For the first time since their school days they were arguing. For the first time since becoming friends they were disagreeing on what was right. For the first time since becoming partners they were drifting apart.



They made love once last time before the blond departed. Harry, still a bit irked, never bothered to learn the Slytherin's flight number. He just knew the man was heading for Asia, India or some such place.



Draco had been gone for days and the bronw haired man was wallowing in self pity. Never leaving their flat in downtown London, keeping the floo closed. What would it serve to open it, he would not have news of his love either way.



Draco had been gone four days when his distraught friends came barging in, exploding the protection charms and shields in place and unlocking the door with a simple Alohomora.



"I heard... I'm so sorry mate..."



Ron had never developed his speech pattern past what they had been when they were on the run and had never extended his vocabulary much to his wife's disgust. The young woman was still holding on to hope to improve on it before she got pregnant. She was the only one who had not faced the harsh reality that the red head would never be able to sweet talk anyone into anything.



"Heard what?"



The silence grew uncomfortable. More so than when Harry decided he and Ginny would never be good for one another and that they would not, should not and could not marry.



"Haven't you heard mate? Zabini says Malfoy's plane went down in the Indian sea..."



He felt his blood pressure drop along with what little colour still present on his cheeks. He learned what vertigo felt like and his head started to spin. His vision went blurry and finally he knew no more.



Waking up was hard that day. He felt drained like he had the past seven or so weeks. But something felt different, harder and colder than usual. Squinting his eyes open showed nothing but bright white light burning his retina. It seemed impossible, their room was draped in dark purple and silver outlines and the drapes were completely obscuring the room what ever the time was. Draco was far from being a morning person and would still have been sleeping. The house-elves knew better and he would not have left them open, so why was it so bright?



Did the soundproofing spell failed? If so were his neighbours moving or having a party? If they were he would curse them into next year!



But more importantly why was it so cold? The temperature in their penthouse was set to always adapt to their needs and Draco had complained it kept rising and rising lately that it would give him wrinkles early. Wait. Where was his Dragon?



A sob tore threw his throat before his brain caught up with the notion that he was alone now. That the blond's plane had crashed according to his friends. He knew there were little chances the man had survived. One could not apparate if the floor was giving out under their feet. Portkey had a range limit and would have been useless. Flying impossible with his broom in the luggage area of the boeing. His lover really was gone.



For the longest time he lay there crying, unable to tell where he was or how long he had been away from reality.



When the tears dried on his face and he felt numb inside he took a look around. He could recognize St-Mungo's isolation rooms if only because Bill had once been hospitalized in one until his wolfbane's potion had been balanced and they knew he could keep his human mind on the night of the full moon. As a precaution they had said. But Bill had come back home scared and refusing to talk every single time.



His friends had probably been scared for him and had taken him straight to the magical hospital. Maybe he had needed it but now that he was awake he wanted to leave and never come back. There were no civil clothes for him in the room. In fact said room was pretty bare. There were no curtains, no sheets, no pillow. The hospital gown had been spelled on him and he could not for the life of him grab any part of it and the bed was simply and elevated mattress that was magically following him every step he made. The worse was the absence of a door and the more he stayed there the more anxious he became. Why was he there?



There was no way for him to tell how much time had passed. There was no window and no clocks. The light stayed extremely bright. He tried his best to be aware of how much noise was present to try and count the minutes and hours but he failed spectacularly what he thought was a few hours later when the noise level simply and quite suddenly stopped. The nurses in the ward must have finished their last turn.



Suddenly the light in his room turned off, telling him he must have been right. It also told him that he would go hungry that night. It was not the first time but as tired as he felt lately it felt worse than it ever did before. Trusting the magic of the room he simply let himself fall backward and as planed he found the not so comfortable cot with no blankets available to him.



While everything had been dark one minute, the next startled him awake with sudden bright lights. He could not see where they came from just that they seem to get out of the wall and ceiling. The day time brought the waiting game. But that day it was easier to feel the time pass with the regular meals delivered to him and while not as good as what he would cook for Draco it still had standard. He could not understand what Bill had been complaining about all those years ago. The traditional English breakfast served to him was as fatty and appetizing as any served at the Burrow or at Hogwart. While he likes his eggs a bit less gooey and his green tomatoes fried instead of fresh there was nothing really wrong with the full fry-up.



While lunch was also good, nothing exceptional past a pack lunch of ham and pickle sandwiches and crisps, he was starting to worry. No doctors had been to see him. Why was he there if he had fainted? What day was it? He remembered Bill telling him he rarely saw doctors but that a nurse had come to his room every hour on the dot so why wasn't any of them visiting him? Was he sick to top the lost of his love?



Tea and dinner went by and he had no visitors to show for it. Being alone was distressing him and he had taken to pacing. When the evening snack was passed he was muttering to himself. He felt stressed and anxious, he was unable to feel the time pass by him and had the impression of people saying his name.



When the light turned off he resigned himself to nightmares due to sensory deprivation.



He could have been asleep an hour or twelve when the light turned on again but this time there was no meal for him. The noise level outside the door was still very low so he felt it must have still been night.



A door he knew existed but had never seen opened on the other side of the isolation room. There was no handle for him to try and therefore he didn't even bother getting up. Maybe they hadn't forgotten him altogether?



Zabini opened the door slowly and strode in like he owned the place, as a healer he probably did in a way. This was his work place, half of his life and his passion.



"Sorry Harry."



The Italian boy kept on babbling excuses he could not understand but since when had he started calling him by his given name?



"I hope the nurses treated you well and were not gossiping or asking for autographs?"



The question sounded genuine but after so long of wanting to talk but feeling unable to he simply shook his head in a short nod which send Zabini into another long monologue that made no sense about overtime and many emergencies.



"What I was trying to say Harry is that I needed to do one more check up before letting you go. Let me just scan you real quick."



Complicated wand pattern many strange light emerging here and there from his body and a parchment appearing in the healer's hand later he felt uncomfortable again. The look on the other man's face was strange. A mix of disgust and awe and was that jealousy?



"Well Harry we feel that you should not be left alone after the shock you had. With Draco dead and your friend on their honeymoon in Paris."



Hearing confirmation that his lover was dead from the man's best friend sealed the deal. He felt faint again but a quick charm and he remained aware.



"So like I was saying while you were NOT listening I proposed to take you to my house until you recovered. So I'll just apparate us, brace yourself."



He was grabbed roughly by his arm and pulled upward. The feeling of being pulled threw a straw and reattached together was as unpleasant as ever. It was why he and the blond had preferred driving everywhere.



He was ripped from his musing by Zabini blabbering on and on about house rules. How he was to be cleaned at all time. How he could not leave the flat without him because they thought he might be suicidal. How his clothing would be provided daily for him. How he was to be present and eating every meal with him when he was available. That he was to entertain himself without making a ruckus. That he was not to complain or that he would be returned to the isolation ward. On and on it went while he was pulled from room to room like a puppet by his arm. When he tried to resist the hand around his arm would tighten and he feared it would leave a bruise.



"I'm sorry Harry I just want to be your friend now that Draco is dead. And because he is dead I will take care of you. This is your room. If you feel like talking about anything, Draco's death, you can come see me in the study. Remember where it is?"



He simply nodded.



When had his life turned from a fairytale to such a nightmare? He fell to the bed crying.



The days were the same since he had arrived. Near no contact with Zabini except to tell him about how gruesome like death a plane crash must have been to the pureblood. It seemed that all conversation begun and ended with a reminder that the life he loved has ended. He was never allowed outside and an house elf was forever keeping an eye on him.



On his third day of imprisonment in the flat he resigned himself to talk to his jailer about the stomachache bothering him. The scan the Italian performed show a pink colour that was darker than the last time and the look of envy came back with force.



"It's just stress Harry. What with the death of Draco I am not surprised. Come drink with me."



Like he had not argued is forced stay at the man's home and had not complained of and about anything he simply agreed to take the glass and drink the night away. Zabini refused to drink more than a glass with him because he had to go back to work the next morning to save lives but kept Potter's glass full until he passed out.



He woke up with the healer in bed and could not remember for the life of him how he got there. The explanation given to him was that he had waken up screaming a few times and had seemed calmer when not alone. He took it in stride.



Every night was the same. The spell that turned is stomach pink was cast on him and he was made to drink the night away after. He woke up every morning in a different state of disarray. Each day missing one more article of clothing. Draco had told him he became succubus like in an inebriated state. Maybe he was seducing Zabini? It seemed strange to him because he had never tried to seduce anyone but the blond in the past. But than again he had never drunk much without him...



The morning he woke up naked the ache in his lower back was topped by the need to vomit. He ripped himself from the bed and ran to the nearest bathroom. He had been left alone but for a note that told him to drink the potion on the table.



He tried to avoid it with his rolling stomach but Wiki the house-elf presented him with a stomach soother that was not the pepper-up potion. He tried to ask why but was simply told that 'Master Zabini had said so'. Shrugging he drowned the viscous fluid before the nausea would come back in force, it tasted strongly of ginger. He was then forced to drink what he recognize by taste as a nutrition solution, similar in effect to the nutritional smoothies Draco would encourage him to drink every morning but tasting vile instead of sweet.



That night his stomach turned purple at the scan and he was forbidden from drinking more. Zabini tried to lead him to his bedroom but that night Harry was resisting and the Italian was growing more irate by the seconds.



"What is it now? Yesterday you had no problems having sex with me! Is it Draco? Well he is dead! Get over it!"



That did it. The tears he had been able to hold back for nearly a week came back with a vengeance. As did the sobs and the weak feeling in his knees. Yet for all the helpless feeling torturing him he was angry. So angry he raised his fist and manage to brake the man's nose. Blood gushed out of the broken nose.



"You will pay dearly for that."



If he had thought life was hell before that night it changed. During the day he was taken to the isolation ward and at night subjected to a sexual seduction. He was still forced into drinking the nutrient potion and another tasting strongly of mint, letting out a fine green vapour and left an oily feel in his mouth.



"This first potion is a nutrient solution because you seem to need it to take on some weight and the second is for the stomach ache you got the last few days since you can't drink no more. You'll see! I'll make you all better and take care of you better than Draco ever could."



He was told that the isolation ward was to make sure he would not hurt himself since he seemed to have anger issues. He was allowed to bring books with him and was left in his 'civil' clothes. He tried sending mail to his friends but the letters had been returned unopened. Owl post could not travel all the way to France apparently. How long where they going to be there?



He still had no idea how many days had passed since the dreaded plane crash. There were no calendars in the home nor in the room he stayed in.



Slowly but surely life got better and he stopped minding being taken to the room. He became calmer and Zabini became Blaise. He had stopped fighting every step of the way and while the sex was more brutal than he liked it was still pleasurable.



From the window he could see that the trees were getting bare. He estimates his stay to at least a month.



He always felt so tried and nauseous yet felt reticent to take more potions than necessary. Blaise had even stopped giving him the green oil minty like solution because it made him sick. Just the smell of mint, coffee or ginger sent him running. He still had no news of his friends but was doing his best to hide his distress.



One morning after vomiting on an empty stomach, vomiting at the smell of Blaise's and not being able to keep his breakfast he decided to talk to him. But life with the Italian was far more complicated than life with Draco had ever been. The man had more mood swings than a pregnant woman that is over due to give birth. Before trying to communicated he had to first introduce the need to share a thought. The information had to sink in and usually if the Slytherin was in a good mood he would be able to express what ever it is he had to share the same night.



Somehow he knew that of the two he was the only one unaware of what was happening to him.



"Blaise, I need to..."



As planed he never even manage to finish his sentence.



"Later for now I need to concentrate on this case I'll go see. Eat."



When there was a conversation in the morning that was usually it. Harry felt it was wrong to have his every thoughts brushed off like that everyday until it fit the other man's program or interest but he felt there was nothing he could do to change it. He did as told like the meek little hufflepuff he wasn't and ate his breakfast before being side aparated to the isolation ward he was confined to even during the week ends. That day he did not read he just wondered why he was acting so submissive and where in Morgana's good graces was his wand?