Harry Potter and the Womb of Requirement NOW CODED

6

As a result of the speed of Draco’s adjustment. Professor Dumbledore decided to sequester them on an open-ended basis. They both relaxed. As the days passed, the boys were allowed more visitors. Draco experienced his first ‘end-of-cycle’ not enjoying it one bit. He realised his body was now ‘ready’.

Neither of them felt like partying as the Hallowe’en Ball approached, but in any case, Madam Pomfrey declared Draco too delicate and forbade him from attending. {You go, Harry, if you like}. Harry kissed his lover and shook his head, {Nah, I’d rather stay with you, love}. Dobby served them a feast to remember that night.

As the evening progressed, there was a light knock at the boys’ door. Hermione and Ron, plus a few others, all bearing butterbeers and Ron had smuggled in a half-bottle of aged firewhisky. He took Draco to one side, pressing the bottle conspiratorially into his hand, “That’s to apologise for snogging your boyfriend. It was either this or a t-shirt with ‘Potter’s Bitch’ on it”. They both laughed, Draco revising his opinion of Ron.

Seamus and Neville, along with Lavender, declared themselves ‘dead jealous’ over the boys’ apartments. Seamus sniggered lewdly at the large bed, “Bet this has seen some action, eh?”. Draco, coming in behind them, overheard, and said, sneering,. “Most certainly, though we have to be careful of chafing the bedposts, you know, when we tie each other up”, he grinned evilly, and exited, leaving three dropped jaws. Lavender was plainly fighting a losing battle with her imagination.

Another knock, and Draco admitted Pansy and Blaise. “We couldn’t leave you at the mercy of all these Gryffindors”. Draco cautiously welcomed them in, shrugging, “The more the merrier”. He settled his two house-mates with a drink apiece and snuck into the kitchen, withdrawing the firewhisky from his pocket, and taking a large swig, then another. Harry caught him, and took a couple of swallows himself, before pulling his Dragon to him for a kiss. {I was never much good at crowds, babe}. {I know, but they’ve all made the effort. Let’s go and join our guests}. {Do you mind horribly if I get totally rat-arsed?}. {Of course not, lover, just save some for me}.

They all sat around, chatting. The two Slytherins feeling a little left out, until Ron produced a small box of dice and suggested a game of Zilch. As the beers flowed, the laughs emerged and the little party became quite convivial. They all enjoyed the fast and furious dice game, Hermione quite able to keep score, despite being in her cups, and Pansy roared to a win, with typical beginner’s luck.

The hour was late, and Draco began to show signs of fatigue. {You all right, love?}, Harry’s anxious mind cut through Draco’s fog, {Mmm, fine, just a bit out of my head and tired}. Harry went over to Draco on the couch and held him. Hermione took the hint. Standing, she stretched and yawned, “I think it’s time to go, chaps. Thanks to Harry and Draco for an excellent little soiree”. There was a scramble of activity as Neville and Pansy collected the empties. They had got on surprisingly well that evening. The first tenuous threads of friendship being woven between them.

Ron and Blaise had had a quite heated discussion of Quidditch tactics. Not angry, just passionate, in an agreeing-to-disagree-way. As they sat together, one would nudge the other cheerfully to make a point, then as Draco made a statement and Blaise turned his head away. Ron felt himself admire that strong chiselled dark profile, the curly black hair cascading onto his collar, the high-bridged Roman nose, and the wide generous mouth, as he argued his corner. He swallowed, feeling suddenly jumpy as Blaise turned back to him, pinning him with liquid dark brown eyes. Ron snapped back to himself, colouring, “Sorry, what? Lost the thread there”. He saw a tiny smile play with the corner of Blaise’s mouth. That enigmatic smile troubled him all night. He had to seek relief before he could sleep.

Harry saw his guests out, then turned at a groan from Draco, laid on the sofa. He was beside him in a shot. {Come on you. Bed}. He lifted Draco against him and led them both to the bedroom, extinguishing the fire as they went. Undressing them both, covering them, enfolding his Dragon in his arms, {G’night love}. Nothing but soft snores.

xxxxxxx

The following day, Ron and Hermione went down to breakfast deep in conversation. Ron’s arm was caught as he entered the Hall. He turned, Blaise. Who high-fived him, giving him an up-and-down appraising look. Ron’s breath caught in his throat. He felt himself colour. A piece of parchment was pushed into his hand. They went to the Gryffindor table and sat. Ron was so confused. What did that look mean?. Hermione nudged him, “Why don’t you read the note he slipped you?”. She was grinning from ear to ear.

“Meet me by the lake, 8 pm?”.

Ron’s forehead gently lowered to the table top, his colour bright puce. “Fuck, ‘Mione, I wish my wretched face didn’t give me away all the time”. He passed her the note. “Whoa, Ronnie-boy, looks like you’ve got yourself a date”, she chuckled, clearly enjoying his chagrin. She sat up as Ron lifted his head, scrubbing at his face with his hands. She smiled at him, and in her best ‘gottle-of-geer’ ventriloquese, said, “He’s looking at you, Ron”. He took a deep breath, his colour still a little heightened, turned, and met Blaise’s eyes across the Hall. Time dimmed slightly, as azure met chocolate brown depths. Ron slowly nodded, then broke the contact, and the buzz of breakfast broke into his mind once again. He turned back to Hermione. She smiled at him, “That was very cool. You did yourself proud there”. She couldn’t resist, she giggled, “I’ll take the notes today, Ron. I’ve got a feeling you won’t be concentrating on lessons much”. He came back suddenly, shaking himself, “Mmm. What?. Did you say something, ‘Mione?” She laughed.

Draco and Harry’s day started not so pleasantly. Harry woke to retching sounds from the bathroom. Went in to find Draco sat on the edge of the tub looking grey, rinsing vomit down the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Harry ran him a warm bath, insisting that he took it. Draco had to admit, after a bath and cleaning his teeth, he did feel better. Then a little porridge, some juice, a couple of painkillers and back to bed.

Harry gazed at his lover in sleep, an adoring look on his face. Holding his Dragon close, he knew why his lover had to get shit-faced the night before. This was a big step. For both of them, but most of all for Draco. So far, there was only Hermione and possibly Albus Dumbledore who understood.

When Draco eventually emerged, it was to find Harry looking at him with such love in his eyes, stroking his hair gently, taking care of him. Instinctively, he tipped his head back, brushing his lips against Harry’s, tempting him, inviting him in. Harry replied with deep kisses of his own, making his Dragon gasp, making him squirm, sigh, thrust, come, as Harry came deep inside him.

After a few moments, Harry lifted himself onto his elbows, making to withdraw from Draco. Who stilled him. Shaking his head. “Let’s give it a chance, shall we?”, a wicked grey eyed look into Harry’s green. Harry stayed. Until Draco nodded, and they lay side by side. Draco’s head on Harry’s chest, feeling pure joy radiating through him. Harry picked it up, kissing the top of Draco’s head, holding him tighter. They dozed off.

That afternoon, they had variously, to complete an Arithmancy essay, two Astronomy, (1 each) and a Potions for the morrow. Harry was blazing away, sat at their desk, writing screeds. He suddenly sensed Draco’s distress, turning just in time to stop him falling from his chair in a swoon. {What’s up, babe?}. {Dunno, suddenly felt light-headed. Sorry}, the last a little sheepish. Harry grinned as he beheld Draco’s colour returning, having laid him on the sofa, {Don’t you dare apologise. Neither of us know what exactly is goin’ on here}. Draco’s voice entering his head was detached, even a little chill, {Yes, we do}

Harry felt the spike of anger, was instantly chagrined. Turned anguished eyes on his lover. Took his face in his hands. {What?. What’s troubling you, love}. Draco slowly looked up, his eyes dark ash colour, into Harry’s expectant face. Reached up and kissed his beloved, sent {I don’t know, just something different}into Harry’s mind.

Draco felt himself gathered into loving arms, melting into Harry. {Yes, something really weird just happened}. As Harry held Draco, for the first time, he felt fear, real fear.

Suddenly Harry felt the full weight of the responsibility on him. A few hours passed before he could sleep, but his dreams were troubled. At one point during the night, Draco awoke to Harry thrashing about. Gently holding his arms down, murmuring, “Harry, it’s only me. Please don’t beat me up, we don’t do that any more”, to an unintelligible murmur from Harry as he eventually quieted, rolling into Draco, who held him through what remained of the night.

The next day, both were shattered as the alarm clock trilled them to wakefulness with it’s insistent ringing. Draco swiped it to the floor, silencing it. They slept on. Dobby appeared, offering breakfast to two sleeping people who didn’t seem to care for food. Dobby, however, mindful of his instructions from Professor Dumbledore, left cereal and milk for his two special charges, before disappearing.

Draco wandered into the kitchen first. Filling a bowl with fresh cereal and milk, he partook heartily, sitting back satisfied, until a jolt in his guts sent him running to the bathroom, losing everything he had taken on board. Harry once again awoke to the sound of retching, rushed into the bathroom, and caught Draco as he slid from the edge of the bath in a dead faint.

Harry helped Draco back to bed. He lay back against the pillows, pale and tired, succumbing to sleep once more, as Harry held him. Harry slipped his arms from around his lover and retrieved the books, climbing back into their bed, and with Draco slumbering next to him, pushed his glasses up his nose and began to read. Feeling the weight over his heart again. Why, oh, why, couldn’t he just have a normal relationship? Just love and be loved like any ordinary young man, gay or straight. Sneaking kisses in dark corridors. Slipping into darkened, unused rooms like the majority of Hogwarts students did. Then he glanced down at Draco, running his hand over his body as he slept, coming to rest over Draco’s belly, stroking him gently. Draco murmured and muttered. He turned back to his books

He read as much as was known about his lover’s condition and how his body was preparing itself. The first conclusion he reached was they were probably going to have to repeat their seventh year again. If everything went according to plan, they wouldn’t have enough time or energy to concentrate on NEWTs this year. With a sinking feeling, Harry realised that Quidditch was also out of the question this year, a possible conflict of interest situation arising, seeing that both Seekers could ‘read’ each other. One better than the other. Then brought himself up short. Draco was making the biggest sacrifices for this. He was already suffering. He had already accepted his own fate. For love of Harry.

At this Harry felt truly humbled. This young man next to him was going through so much. Harry felt his heart turn over. He abandoned the books for now, curling himself around Draco as he slept, dozing off himself.

Draco awoke a little while later, stumbling to the bathroom, feeling better than this morning. He tried another breakfast. This one stayed down. He spread out next to a sleeping Harry, picking up one of Dumbledore’s musty books, learning of his fate. He laid the book aside, staring into space, stroking his stomach, rolling onto his back. He felt Harry stir beside him, fumble his specs on and turn to him, {Is this too much?}. {Yes, a bit, but I’m still going to do this, Harry}.

Harry leaned up on one elbow. Draco turned to him. Glanced Harry up and down. Licked his lips. {Come to me, babe, let’s try again, shall we?}. Harry breathed deep, blinked slowly, and claimed his Dragon. His birthright, his soulmate. As naturally as breathing. In that moment he regretted nothing.

Reluctantly, as the day grew old around them, they agreed, {We’ve got work to do}, and rose, wrapping themselves in dressing gowns, {Why bother getting dressed?}. Draco felt Harry’s smile as they settled to work. Nothing to be heard except the scratching of quills until the day waned, dark drawing on early as the Winter was beginning to set in.