Changing Minds in Hard Times

Time had passed quickly, and the day of the pregnancy test dawned foggy, but by later that morning, the promise of sun peaked from behind the clouds.



Draco tried to push off the heavy feeling of dread he felt whenever he thought of the test, just as he tried to push away the tray piled high with breakfast foods that Harry had placed before him on the bed. But in the end, Harry won out, and Draco found himself munching on a piece of toast that tasted like nothing to him. Not that it was tasteless, he just couldn’t taste it.



Harry himself eyed the eggs he was eating as if the taste was off, but still kept up his good example for Draco, and continued eating. He thought he knew how Draco felt. There was both a glimmer of hope that the child would be Harry’s, and overwhelming dread that it was Voldemort’s.



Harry had almost persuaded himself that it didn’t matter whose baby it was…that it was the environment the child grew up in that shaped the child. But who was he kidding? He grew up in a cupboard under the stairs, without a hint of compassion or love from his guardians. And then there was the fact that he was a Quiddich Prodigy, which had to have come from his father. So there it was. Genetics mattered.



But if it was Voldemort’s baby, what could Harry do about it? Could he even consider killing Draco to stop the birth of Voldemort’s weapon? Would that be considered a merciful death?



But no, how could he even think such a thing? He could never kill Draco. But there had to be some way to stop Voldemort from having an Heir. If only he could think!



Loud knocking sounded in the silence of the room, and Harry jumped off the bed to answer the door, leaving Draco to surreptitiously drop his half eaten toast under the serving platters lid.



Harry disengaged the wards he had on the room and opened the door. Outside stood Hermione and Ron, both looking like they were trying hard not to be nervous. But they were failing at it.



“Hello Harry,” Hermione tried a smile, but it faded quickly. “Madam Pomfrey says you and Draco should head over there now for the…you know.”



Harry nodded. He knew what she was talking about before she even opened her mouth. He turned to face the room and Draco, who was up and struggling into his shirt at the end of the bed.



Harry sighed; he knew almost instantly that Draco hadn’t finished his toast. He only hoped that the little Draco did eat would help with the pregnancy test spell Madam Pomfrey would be performing. She had said eating something would make it easier. But there was nothing to do about Draco’s lack of eating now. Better to get this testing over with.



Draco met Harry, Hermione and Ron at the door and walked with them to the Madam Pomfrey’s domain. She seemed to be ready and waiting for them; a cot was prepared, as well as the potion Draco would have to drink to help with the spell. Harry led Draco to the cot and helped him undress to his black silk boxers – ones Harry had bought him on a quick shopping trip for a small wardrobe for the blond – and watched as Draco crawled onto the bed and settled himself on it.



There was nothing left for Harry to do, besides be there for Draco. So he sat in a chair that was placed near the cot, and offered his hand to the blond. Draco looked at Harry’s hand as he fought to steady his breathing, and finally decided to take it. If not for himself, then for Harry’s peace of mind.



Draco still wasn’t sure what he was going to do if the child he carried turned out to be Voldemort’s. He had originally planned to kill himself, but that would hurt Harry in a way he really didn’t want to. That, combined with the fact that Draco did not, personally, want to die, made him rethink his plans.



He leaned back against the propped up pillows, and tried to ease his breathing. It wouldn’t be good if he staged a repeat of what had happened the night Pomfrey had first examined him, and he was sure nobody enjoyed cleaning up his mess from the floor beside the bed. He managed to breathe normally finally, just as the witch handed him the vial of purple liquid.



He accepted it, swallowed it down without any more thought, and handed the empty container back to her. She tried a smile, but it didn’t seem to fit, so she crossed the room to the counter to place the vial back in its holder, and left the room to give the potion some time to filter through Draco’s system, and into his magical womb, if it was there.



Draco was sure he was pregnant. He had grown more and more tired, had frequent headaches, some bouts with nausea, and some irritability at Harry for coddling him so. He didn’t need this spell to confirm he was pregnant. He needed the second spell. The one that would identify whose magical signature was embedded in the child’s makeup. He sighed, hoping Harry wouldn’t try to talk to him now.



Harry didn’t.



---X---



Madam Pomfrey bustled back into the room several minutes later. She, as much as anyone else in the Wizarding world who knew the situation Draco and Harry were now in, wished nothing more then that this test would give the desired results. Poppy was not looking forward to her part in this situation. She knew it was her job to do such medical procedures as pregnancy tests, but she had never before been asked to test for whether or not a young man had become impregnated by the Dark Lord’s seed.



She ignored the pair of Harry’s friends who stood near the door, and nodded to the blond. He looked grateful that she didn’t try to speak. She waited while he pulled down the waistband of his boxers a bit more for a clear target, then she waved her wand, cast the spell, and noted the glow that had started up in the blonds’ middle. No one there needed to be told what that meant.



Draco nodded more to himself then anyone else, and then raised his eyes to meet Madam Pomfrey’s. He nodded again to tell her she should cast the next spell. She turned her attention back to the young man’s belly, and cast her next spell.



---X---



Harry watched as the glow overtook Draco’s stomach. He didn’t yet know whether to be happy about it, or to curse Voldemort’s name for ever touching Draco that way. But the next spell would end that.



He looked up at Draco, and then turned his gaze to the witch before looking back at Draco. Draco seemingly refused to look at Harry. But he nodded to Madam Pomfrey, and Harry turned his attention back to Draco’s stomach.



He listened as the last spell was recited, and watched as colors seemed to pulse inside Draco. One pulse of light seemed to slowly swirl a silver-grey color with a green that very much resembled Harry’s eyes. The other pulse of light swirled more violently, mingling the silver-grey and an angry, blood red.



---X---



Madam Pomfrey gasped.



Harry’s eyebrows seemed to hit his hairline.



Draco blanched, tried to hold of his strong urge to vomit, and lost it over the side of the bed again.



Ron and Hermione clung to each other, though Ron was more confused, and Hermione was practically in mourning already.



Harry snapped himself out of shock to gently grab up Draco’s hair again. He placed himself on the bed beside the blond man, and gently stroked his fingers through the soft hair.



When Draco was done emptying what little food he had eaten from his stomach, and Harry had spelled away the mess, Madam Pomfrey handed the blond a cup of cool water and stood nearby, watching.



When Draco looked up at her, so did Harry. Though she was pretty sure both young men knew what they had seen, she felt, as a medical professional, that she should confirm it.



“It seems, Draco, that you are pregnant. And we can conclude from that last spell, that while the desired outcome was achieved, you have, a hitchhiker of sorts. It appears that you carry both Harry Potter’s, and Voldemort’s children.”



Draco nodded, his distaste at the thought evident.



“That, is exactly what I thought.”