The Consequences of Solutions

Down at the last meal before they all went home for holiday, nobody failed to notice that the Headmaster’s beard had been partially burned off. He was trying his best to ignore it, though everyone could see that he was unhappy about it.



Harry and Draco were exchanging glances throughout the entire meal, though neither had the guts to get up and go to the other to say anything. Especially not in front of so many people who all assumed they were mortal enemies.



By the time the meal was over, Harry was somewhat shocked to look down and see that he had finished off almost a plateful of mashed yams. And he HATED yams. But they hadn’t tasted so bad this time for some reason. In fact, he had kind of liked them. Odd.



Draco on the other hand had shocked his Housemates by downing what could be perceived as half the food on their table. He was still reaching for one more slice of pie when the feast came to an end and the food magically started to disappear.



The look on his face was priceless to the other Slytherins, and all who had seen it burst into laughter. They were still laughing when he huffily pried himself off the bench and stomped away.



-XxX-



Draco was packing in his room when one of his family’s house elfs popped in.



“Master Draco, I is sent to tell you Master Lucius wants that you apperate home. He says to tell you, now. Master is not in good mood…”



“You may tell my father I will be home shortly.” Draco said, using his wand to neatly fold his clothing and shrink his trunk to fit in his pocket. The house elf popped out again and Draco sighed. He had forgotten that he would have to deal with his father’s bad moods. And how was he going to hide his pregnancy from his parents, or the identity of the father after they learned the truth!? It was then that Draco realized that his plan was not as well thought out as he had hoped.



-XxX-



Once back at Malfoy Manor, Draco retreated to his room, hoping to avoid his father in a mood. His father was nothing to be trifled with, whether in a mood or not. And Draco didn’t fancy taking the brunt of Lucius Malfoy’s anger onto himself for some imagined, or unimagined, wrong.



Not surprisingly, it was at that moment that the nausea that had been building in Draco all morning hit full force, and he found himself in his bathroom, removing all the food he had eaten at the feast from his stomach forcefully.



It was then that his Mother and Father chose to come bursting in his bedroom door. His mother, hearing his noises from the bathroom, ran inside to comfort and sooth her baby. His father on the other hand, glared down at him imperially.



“My poor little angel.” His mother cooed as she pulled his long hair out of his face and brushed his forehead and cheeks lovingly, looking for a fever.



Lucius stood in the doorway looking impassive. “What’s the cause of this, Draco?



“Uh,” Draco wiped his mouth with the damp cloth his mother handed him. “Surprise. I’m pregnant.”



The room went silent.