Paternity

Terms: gammon--ham steak, skanky--gross or disgusting

Paternity, 4/?
By Scribe

Part Four
Morning After

Draco Malfoy slept well. Good sex always sent him off like a baby, and last night had been no exception. Only one of his roommates was staying over. Eamon Pinkham was a fair, chubby, fourth year student, and Draco's favorite jest at his expense was how appropriate his last name was--'pink-ham'. Eamons had needed no urging to move into another dorm room for the summer, leaving Draco in solitary splendor.

Draco would have normally slept late, but he had business to attend to, so he was up early. He bullied the house elves into making him a bacon sandwich, and took it out on the front steps to eat. He was just brushing away crumbs when Daggett strolled up the lane from Hogsmead. "Hullo, Malfoy. Everything go according to plan?"

Draco smiled. "Not exactly."

"Bloody hell! Do you mean that you didn't get it?"

"Oh, I didn't say that." Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He unfolded it and showed the contents to Daggett. There were three bright scarlet seeds, each as small as a baby's fingernail. "Three--just as you asked."

"Don't go waving those about!" Daggett hissed. "You never know when there are hidden eyes, and it wouldn't do either of us any good if we were found in possession."

Draco had been suspicious since his last night, when his lust had abated enough for him to think clearly. *It would explain a lot, if it's what I think it is, but I need to be sure.* "What are these things?"

"Never you mind." Daggett reached for the handkerchief, but Draco pulled it out of reach. "Malfoy, we had a deal."

"I get the feeling that these things are more than a little iffy, Beanstone. I think I want to know what I've gotten myself into. I need to know, so I can properly judge what I'm going to ask from you in return."

"Malfoy, you don't dare back out."

"I don't? What are you going to do, Beanstone--report me? Who do you think you ought to speak to--McGonagal, or Dumbledore?" Daggett paled. "I could just flush them down the loo, you know."

"Oh, all right, but cover them up!" Draco folded the cloth, and Daggett said, "Did you touch them?" Draco didn't answer, but Daggett answered himself. "No, of course not. Draco, you hold in your hands one of the most hotly sought commodities in the wizarding world. Hell, in the Muggle world as well, I would imagine. They've got something I think they call Viagra that... Never mind, that's some sort of Muggle potion. The fact is that those are the only known, sure-fire natural aphrodisiac in existence."

"What?" He looked down at the innocent looking square of cloth.

"They're the seeds of the subitus libido plant.

"Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"I told you--you'll learn senior year. There's a good bit of stuff you aren't thought ready for till you're of legal age." He rolled his eyes. "And I used to wonder why so many seniors walk about with dazed expressions and glassy eyes. They drop a ton on you. The plants themselves are nothing--only the seeds are effective. Any kind of contact does the trick." He grinned. "My parents are renting a suite at the Claggmore Arms for my birthday, then clearing out. I'm spiking the punch with these."

Draco couldn't repress an answering smile. "Do the guests KNOW that they're attending an orgy?"

"Most of them are hoping." He held out his hand expectantly.

Draco passed over the packet. "I was right--this will require quite a favor in return. But never fear, Beanstone--I expect it will be awhile before I collect. Have fun."

Daggett slipped the handkerchief into his pocket. "Believe me--I will. The great thing is that there's a residual effect." He laughed. "The guests can get random bursts of horniness for the entire weekend."

Daggett left, and didn't see Draco's look of pained dismay. *Oh, now isn't that just charming--stuck in the hinterlands with limited choice, ready to be struck at any moment by the urge. Well,* he got up to go inside. *If what he says is true, I won't be the only one. Good thing that Weasley won't be going home anytime soon. I quite fancy having another go at his ass.*

~~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~~

There was a warm, living weight close against pressed against Harry. For a moment he was disoriented, then he relaxed, smiling as he realized what it was. This was the first time Harry could remember ever waking up with someone, and he decided that he quite liked it.

He opened his eyes and, at first, all he could see was a coppery blur. He realized that it was the back of Ron's head. They were lying so close that their heads were both on the same pillow, both on their sides, with Harry spooned up against Ron, an arm over his waist. It was cozy, Harry decided. He discreetly spit a wisp of hair out of his mouth. *Perhaps not ideal, but still nicer than anything else I can think of right now.*

Feeling the urge to touch Ron somehow, Harry rubbed small circles on his friend's belly. The skin felt velvety, and very warm. His fingers found the shallow dip of Ron's bellybutton, and Harry smiled, thinking, *Ron has an innie. I don't believe I ever noticed that before.*

There was a sleepy grunt, and Ron muttered, "Bit early for it, eh, Harry?" Harry pinched him lightly. "Ow. Let a bloke shag you and he goes all abusive." Ron turned over, facing Harry. "Good morning."

"Morning. D'you know," Harry said quietly, "that your hair doesn't taste nearly as bad as I thought it might."

Ron snorted. "Woke up with some in your mouth, eh? Well, just imagine what it would have been like if I was Hermoine. You'd be hacking up hairballs worse than Cruikshanks."

That made them both laugh. They quieted again, and Harry said, "So, it wasn't a dream, was it?"

Ron grew serious. "Do you want it to be?"

"No, Ron, I don't."

Ron heaved a sigh. "That's a relief." He sat up. "Let's get breakfast."

"You're an unromantic git," said Harry, amused, as he got out of bed.

"What? I'm STARVING, Harry. Don't you think a nice dish of egg and bacon sounds romantic?"

"Certainly not! Now, if you'd said gammon..." Ron plucked his nightshirt off the floor and threw it at Harry. Harry unconcernedly plucked it off his head. "Blind a fellow, why don't you?" They dressed. "One good thing--we don't have to wear the bloodyes fes for another three months. They aren't so bad during the winter--actually put another layer between you and the cold, but in the SUMMER--stifling."

"Yeah, unless you did them up all the way and just went starkers underneath." Harry started snickering, and Ron couldn't resist. "Breezy days would be a hazard for EVERYONE--not just the girls." Harry was shaking his head, but his laughter was getting stronger. "The first year students would get an education outside the published curriculum." Harry dropped back across his bed, holding his sides. "People would fight over who was going to climb the ladder up to Divination and Astronomy first, all the best looking students would never have to wait in line. This is SERIOUS, Harry! Stop it!"

"Cah-can't. Have to... to MAKE me!"

"Mrs. Norris chasing a mouse under Snape's robes."

"RON!" Harry howled.

Ron jumped on Harry, straddling him, and shook him by the shoulders, shouting gleefully, "You're EASY, Harry Potter! EASY!"

"No I'm not, Ron. Not except for you, anyway." The laughed died from Ron's face, and he went quiet, staring down at Harry. Harry lifted his hands, running them slowly up and down Ron's arms. "Are we going to talk about it?"

A dozen emotions seemed to flicker through Ron's eyes. Finally he leaned down and kissed Harry, quickly and firmly, then stood up. "Yeah, but not before breakfast. My brain doesn't operate right when I'm hungry." He slapped Harry's shoulder. "And no jokes about it not working any other time, either."

They finished dressing and went downstairs. They met no one on the way to the Dining Hall. "You're right, Ron, it IS weird with everyone gone. I almost hate to make the house elves go through the bother."

"Hermione has infected you with socialism. They live for it, Harry."

"Snobby git."

"Hey, I pick my socks and drawers up off the floor--now, and you don't know what a luxury it's been leaving them lying about. Mum would snatch me bald if I tried it at home. Honestly, you'd think she'd be used to it now, as many kids as she's had."

"Maybe that's it. By the time you came along she'd got a bellyful of picking up."

"She isn't like that with Ginny, either."

"Ginny's the only girl, and somehow I just can't imagine her leaving her knickers on the floor."

They'd reached the foot of the stairs, and Draco was coming through the front entrance. "Weasley, I'm surprised at you. I would have thought that someone discussing your sister's knickers would have rated a thrashing."

Ron flushed. "Not everyone has dirty intentions, Malfoy. You could read a laundry list and make it sound like porn."

As they walked away, Draco called after them, "Is that an offer for aural sex?" Ron whirled on him, eyes blazing and fists clenched. Draco laughed. "A-u-r-a-l, not oral, you nit. Look it up, or have Potter explain it to you." He started up the steps, chuckling.

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. His friend was so tense that it felt like touching a brick wall. "Ron, don't let him get to you."

Ron's color was deepening. "The rotten thing is he's right--I DON'T know what he meant."

"Aural, it's about hearing, or sound. It means getting off on listening to someone talk dirty, I think."

"Leave it to Malfoy to think of that."

"Oh, I don't know."

Ron looked at Harry sharply, and Harry smiled. Ron shook his head, smiling reluctantly. "I know what 'cheeky' means, Potter."

After breakfast, Harry and Ron did something that, as far as they knew, no Hogwarts student had ever done willingly--they went to Filch's office without being officially summoned. Mrs. Norris was sitting at the end of the hall, almost hidden in the shadows that pooled between the wide spaced candles. She watched them approach, yellow eyes unwinking, then turned and preceded them to the office. The door was ajar, and she slipped inside with a raspy mew. They heard Filch speak, almost cooing. "What is it, m'dear? Mm? What's troubling you? Ah, we thought we'd be free of the nasty brats, but they fooled us, didn't they? Some of them coming to bother us now, eh?"

"I TOLD you she talks to him," whispered Ron.

They knocked on the door. "Come in." There was sour resignation in Filch's voice. When they entered Filch was behind his desk, scratching Mrs. Norris behind the ears. "What do you two want?"

"We're staying over the holidays," said Harry. "Dumbledore said that we might be able to earn a few sickles by helping out with the chores."

"Huh. Never a worry about the mess and bother during the term, but when there's a chance to get paid, oh yes, they're interested. Right, work. Ready to get your dainty hands dirty, are you? I can do that, yes indeed." He opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, smiling at the boys. Mrs. Norris opened her mouth, showing yellow, needle-like teeth in a disturbingly human smile. "I've got a little list."

A half-hour later Harry and Ron were both working with spades, hacking through grass to turn earth. "I don't believe we NEED a path around the restricted patches of plants."

"I suppose it could be justified," said Harry. "Students will be less likely to just walk over some plant that they don't recognize. "Seems like it would just be easier to fence it off with some cord," he pointed, "like that section. I wonder what that is?"

Ron glanced in the direction indicated, then ducked his head quickly, furiously hacking at the turf. "I've no idea. Can't be dangerous, can it? I mean, if it was dangerous, they'd have a walloping great fence around it, and CAUTION, BEWARE, WATCH YOUR ARSE signs all over the place."

"Might have been a good idea if they had. Someone's been messing about in it. Look there--see that patch in the middle? The undersides of the leaves are silvery, and they're all ruffled and crushed. Hell, it looks like someone just rolled in it."

"Harry, will you PLEASE pay attention to what we're doing, or we'll never get this section finished before lunch."

Harry resumed the work. He didn't notice the worried glances that Ron kept shooting at the bruised plants.