Not Quite As Expected

Harry Potter lay sprawled on a sandy beach in a place most people equated with paradise listening to the calming rhythm of the pounding surf and letting the warmth of the sun sooth the aches from his limbs. His legs ached constantly these days - a permanent reminder of a particularly nasty hex that Peter Pettigrew had thrown at him during the final confrontation with Voldemort over a year before. After many long months of lying in a hospital bed, Harry had been told there was nothing more that medical magic could do for him. He counted himself lucky to be in one piece, with full use of both his mental and physical facilities; surely, he could live with a little pain.

A large black dog bounded across Harry's field of vision, followed closely by two laughing children - one boy and one girl, both tan from the summer sun. Harry watched the children chase the dog along the beach, his heart constricting painfully in his chest. The dog reminded him of his godfather, who had died protecting Harry. The children reminded him of the plans he and his lover had made before he, too, had been stolen away from Harry by the war against Voldemort.

Blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, Harry turned his gaze away from the children to watch the slow rolling motions of the ocean waves crashing on the beach. He tried desperately not to think about Blaise and the beautiful blonde-haired, green-eyes babies they had wanted to raise together. He tried not to envision again the sight of green light enveloping Sirius as he was struck down by the killing curse.

As the surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm him, Harry fumbled in the rucksack by his side. He drew out a small vial of amber-coloured liquid, popped out the cork, and downed the bitter potion in one swift gulp. Harry lay back down on the warm sand. The Calming potion wouldn't keep the unwelcome thoughts away, but it did help him keep his grief under control. The effects of the potion were almost immediate, and Harry felt peace return to him slowly as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the soothing sound of the ocean waves.

*

Harry returned from his seaside holiday feeling no better than he had before. He wandered aimlessly through the modest home he had purchased in Hogsmeade, wishing his life had some deeper meaning, some profound purpose, such as his friends had found. With Voldemort gone, Harry felt his life had no meaning at all.

Ron had gone on to work in the Ministry of Magic. He was even now working diligently alongside his brother Percy and their father to help reform the Ministry. Recently he had announced his engagement to some Hufflepuff girl that Harry didn't really know.

Hermione worked in research now. She traveled a great deal for her work, so Harry rarely ever saw her. They did their best to keep in touch through owls, though, as did he and Ron.

Many of Harry's other schoolmates and friends now had rewarding careers and growing families.

Harry had nothing.

Nothing except a little cottage in Hoade,ade, the money in Sirius' Gringott's vault - including the restitutions the Ministry had paid him posthumously for twelve years of wrongful incarceration - and his fame.

Harry didn't particularly want a career. He really wasn't good at anything other than Quidditch - which his injuries ensured he'd never play professionally - and defeating dark wizards. Besides, between the inheritance and restitution money Sirius had left behind and the small fortune Harry's parents had bequeathed to him, he could live comfortably for the next hundred or so years.

Although he often pondered the question of what to do with his life now, Harry never found a satisfactory answer.

One weekend, the answer found him.

Browsing idly through Flourish and Blotts one day, Harry came across a book on mediwizardry that somehow caught his eye. As he flipped through the pages, the words `magical pregnancies' seemed to leap up from the paper, demanding his attention.

Of course, Harry knew about magical pregnancies. He and Blaise had often discussed having a family of their own. Having children was their favourite dream, although they both feared it was just a fantasy. The odds of them both surviving the war were slim to none. Harry had always assumed he would be the one to die on the battlefield. Often, he wished that he had.

Harry and Blaise had weighed the pros and cons of each of the various methods of magical pregnancy. Typically, two wizards (or two witches, a wizard and a witch, or even just a single parent with a willing donor) would have their DNA magically combined and the resulting embryo would develop normally inside of a surrogate mother's womb. Sometimes one of the biological parents would carry the child; if the parent happened to be male, medical magic would create a pseudo-womb for the baby to develop in, and the child would be delivered via Caesarean section. The least reliable and thus least often used method of magical pregnancy, which only applied to male-male relationships, involved the creation of a pseudo-womb and a magical fertilization cycle that would allow the couple to conceive via sexual intercourse.

Although the last option was the least successful, Harry and Blaise had decided that when the time come, they would keep the process as `natural' as possible.

Now, Blaise was gone. The dream, however, lived on.

Scanning the section on DNA donors and single-parent pregnancies, Harry felt a strange peacefulness waser her him. He was certain Blaise would want him to carry out their plan on his own, rather than wasting away in solitude. Suddenly resolute, Harry closed the book with a snap, slid it back onto the shelf, and hurried off to make an appointment at the fertility clinic he and Blaise had found.

*

A week later, after a long day of being lectured, poked, prodded, measured, and generally made to feel like a specimen in a jar, Harry slumped out of the fertility clinic, completely disappointed. The nice, middle-aged mediwitch who had examined Harry informed him that he would not be able to carry a child himself. She had suggested that he find a willing surrogate and turned him over to a rather flirtatious young man who's job it was to match surrogates and donors to those in need.

Hours of enduring the man's giggles and unwelcome glances had turned up very few people who were willing to donate both DNA and their bodies, so Harry settled for having two separate peoplvolvvolved. An appointment had been set up to meet the prospective surrogate mother, but none of the potential DNA donors had met Harry's strict standards.

Frustrated and bone-weary, Harry headed for the comfortable anonymity of the Hogshead Pub.

Firmly ensconced in a seat at the bar and sipping his third - or was it his fourth? - cocktail of the evening, Harry was turning over the donor situation in his head when sounds of a scuffle drew his attention. Looking up, Harry saw a fellow almost as big as Hagrid holding up a small, wiry, unkempt man by the back of his collar. The smaller man's feet weren't even touching the floor, but he was putting up one hell of a fight.

"He's a thief, I tells ya!" the bigger man was yelling at the pub's owner. "He took my money, and I want it back!"

"I am not a thief," the small man said, in a voice that was eerily familiar to Harry. "I never took anything. You can check my pockets, if you like," he informed the proprietor.

The pub's owner - Sam- took the thin man at his word, commanding the big fellow to put him down. The accused thief turned out all of his pockets, turning up nothing except lint and his own weathered wand.

"You can search me if you like," the man said, lifting his chin at a haughty angle.

Even as Sam was telling the man that a search was unnecessary, and apologising for the inconvenience, Harry realised why the man's voice sounded familiar. In the instant that recognition struck Harry like a bolt of lighting, the man turned his cool grey eyes on him.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked uncertainly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The other man flinched slightly, his eyes darting around the room. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else," he replied carefully.

Harry knew that the Malfoy name had been dragged very publicly and very thoroughly through the mud after Voldemort's defeat. The wariness in those unmistakable grey eyes cautioned Harry to keep quiet.

"My apologies," Harry said. "You remind me of someone I knew at school."

Malfoy gave Harry a curt nod before turning and sweeping out of the dimly lit pub. Harry tossed some money down on the bar and followed him out.

"Malfoy, wait," Harry called softly.

Draco stopped abruptly, turning slowly to face Harry. "What do you want, Potter?" he asked coolly.

In the quickly fading sunlight - which was still many degrees brighter than the interior of the Hogshead - Harry took his first really good look at Draco Malfoy, a man he hadn't seen since leaving school several years before. Although Malfoy wore shabby, over-sized robes, he still carried himself with a regal air. His white-blond hair was limp and dusty and looked as if someone had cut it with a rusty razor blade. His pointed chin was smudged with dirt, but there was still confidence in those pale grey eyes.

On impulse, Harry stepped forward and reached for Draco's wrist, turning the man's slender hand palm up. Draco's hands were calloused and rough; his cuticles were ragged and there was dirt under his nails.

Draco jerked his hand away from Harry's, face contorting with contempt. "Like what you see, Potter?" he spat.

Harry shook his head solemnly, his eyes still fixed on Draco's hands. Slowly his eyes traveled up to meet Draco's angry gaze.

And he realised that, yes, he did in fact like what he saw: a man that fate had been unkind to who managed to stand, unbroken.

"What have you been doing to get yourself in such a state, Malfoy?" Harry mused quietly, talking more to himself than to Draco. "Work not fit for a house elf, I'd imagine."

Draco's nostrils flared, and he curled his hands into tight fists. "I do what I must," he replied through clenched teeth.

"I can see it, now," Harry said, reaching out to trace the line of Draco's jaw with one fingertip. "Blaise always admired you, and now I can finally see why."

At the mention of Blaise's name, Draco jerked away from Harry's touch. "Never mention his name to me," Draco snarled. "Blaise was worth twenty of you. It should have been you who died."

Pain flickered in Harry's eyes, dulling the vivid green and bringing tears to the surface. "You're right," he replied quietly. "It should have been me. But it wasn't." A muscle twitched in Harry's jaw and he crossed his arms tightly across his chest, battling the grief that threatened to rise up and take control of him. Longing for his Calming potion, Harry forced his thoughts away from Blaise, turning his attention back to studying the man before him.

"When's the last time you had a decent meal?" Harry asked, catching Draco off guard.

Blinking in surprise, Draco found himself answering honestly rather than shooting off some witty retort. "A few days." Draco fought the urge to look at the ground at his feet, holding his head high.

"You haven't eaten in days?" Harry asked incredulously.

"That isn't what I said," Draco scowled.

"Are you living on the streets then?"

Draco did look at the ground then, his arms crossing defensively across his too-thin chest. His silence was the only answer Harry needed.

"That settles it. You're coming with me," Harry commanded.

"Save your pity," Draco snapped.

"It isn't pity," Harry replied calmly. "I've a business proposition for you, but I want you well-fed and well-rested before we discuss it."

Draco blinked in confusion. After a moment, he acquiesced. "All right, Potter. But don't think I'll feel obligated to conduct business with you based on a meal and a bed for the night."

"And a bath," Harry said, wrinkling up his nose in disgust.

Draco glared, and Harry answered it with a weak smile before turning away to lead Draco through Hogsmeade to his home.

After a shower, dinner, a bath, pudding, and a tumbler off brandy - all liberally laced with witticisms and veiled insults - Draco wandered off to the guest room in his borrowed dressing gown, climbed into the wonderfully soft bed, and fell promptly to sleep.

Harry, too, drifted off to sleep effortlessly that night, his head full of dreams that just might have a chance of co tru true.

*

"You want to have my baby," Draco stated flatly.

Harry chuckled into his teacup. "Not exactly."

"Explain," Draco commanded.

So Harry explained about finding a surrogate and needing a donor. He made no mention at all of Blaise and their plans.

"Why not use just your genetics? Why involve someone else at all?" Draco asked curiously.

"It would be too much like cloning," Harry answered, not entirely truthfully, refusing to meet Malfoy's gaze.

Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was something Potter wasn't telling him. "You said you couldn't find a suitable donor," he stated at last. "What makes me suitable?"

A slight flush rose in Harry's cheeks. "You're intelligent, incredibly gifted with magic, and fairly good looking," he replied. "And you've a strength of character that frankly surprised me."

"And?" Draco asked.

"You're blond," Harry said, suddenly fascinated with his teacup.

For a moment, Draco looked at Harry as if he'd gone completely mad. Then, quite suddenly, he understood.

"Blond," he repeated levelly. "White-blond. Like Blaise."

Harry bit his lip and nodded slightly.

Rising from his chair, Draco began to pace, his mind a whirl. After a time he stopped in front of Harry's chair, looking down on him.

"All right," he said.

"All right?" Harry asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper. Was Malfoy actually agreeing to help him create a family? He could hardly fathom it.

"I'll help you out, Potter, but on my own terms. I know you offered to pay me - and pay me well - but... It isn't enough."

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Draco returned to his seat, turned slightly to face Harry. "First term, you drop the idea of a surrogate. The fewer people involved in this mess, the better."

"Madame Broussard - that's the mediwitch at the clinic - she told me I'm not able to carry a child. Another lingering effect of a rather nasty curse I had the misfortune of being introduced to."

Draco paused for a moment, pretending to think. He had counted on just such a reply. "The condition still stands. If you can't agree, then we've nothing else to discuss."

Harry stared, shell-shocked. "Are you saying you'll...you'll carry the child?"

"Yes, provided my other conditions are met."

"Go on," Harry said.

"Second term - you'll provide me with food, clothing, shelter, and a few extras during the course of the pregnancy and for whatever time it takes for me to become pregnant. That's in addition to the fee you offered me for contributing my genes."

"Fair enough," Harry agreed readily. "Provided the extras aren't overly extravagant."

"I think you'll find my requests to be quite reasonable," Draco assured him. "The third, final, and most important condition of my offer is this: we do it the hard way. None of this in-vitro fertilization rubbish."

Harry blanched. "You want me to have sex with you."

"Not particularly. But I do want the actual conception postponed as long as possible," Draco replied with a smirk.

"So that I have to take care of you," Harry said with a slight nod. "I should have known."

"Well, what will it be, Potter?"

"I'll accept your terms if you accept mine."

Draco raised one pale eyebrow. "And those are?"

"First, you respect my privacy. That means you stay out of my bedroom unless specifically invited."

"You needn't have made that a term of the agreement, Potter. I've no desire to spend my every moment with you."

"Second term: you've got to be civil to my friends."

"Weasel and Mudblood?" Draco asked, looking a bit uneasy.

"Ron and Hermione," Harry snapped.

Draco sighed. "Oh, all right. I'll be civil. Just don't ask me to be nice to them."

"Fair enough. The third condition is that you stop calling me `Potter' as if it were an insult. In fact, I prefer that you call me Harry. Being called Potter reminds me of Snape, and thinking of Snape makes me think of the war and I really don't like thinking about that."

Responding to the desperation in Harry's voice, Draco agreed. "All right, Harry," he said carefully.

Harry gave Draco a weak smile. "One last term, and we're done."

"Go on."

"You're not to have sex with anyone eeitheither while we're trying to conceive or during the course of the pregnancy."

"Not even a girl?"

"No, not even a girl."

"I don't fancy women much, anyway. Can I have sex with someone else if I top?"

"No, Draco," Harry said firmly.

"I don't recall giving you leave to address me in the familiar," Draco replied automatically. "What about blowjobs? Do blowjobs count as sex?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake! The condition of the agreement is that you don't engage in sexual activity of any kind with another man, woman, or animal at anytime during the conception process or the pregnancy."

Draco's eyes sparkled at the angry flush rising in Harry's cheeks. "Do I get to shag you anytime I want then?"

Harry turned to glare at Draco and caught the mischievous twinkle in the grey eyes just before he opened his mouth to respond. "You don't get to shag me at all, Draco. I get to shag you."

Draco looked indignant. "I think I acc accept your conditions, Po...Harry."

"Good. Oh... One more thing - If Madame Broussard finds that you aren't suitable asurrsurrogate, the deal is off. I'll still be willing to pay you to be a donor, however."

"Of course."

*

Madame Broussard managed to squeeze Harry and Draco into her busy schedule the next day. She determined that after a few weeks of eating healthy meals and taking a variety of potions, Draco would be quite fit to be a surrogate parent. They scheduled a date for Draco to undergo the procedure that would prepare his body for conception.

Back at Harry's cottage, the two wizards signed a contract outlining the terms of their agreement. After signing the contract, Harry set right to work meeting his end of the bargain. He took Draco into Diagon Alley to purchase clothing, toiletries, and other essentials. Draco also insisted on having something done about the pitiful state of his hair.

Harry made a point of preparing healthy meals for Draco rather than the quick and not very nutritious fare he usually favoured; that, coupled with proper rest and shelter from the elements, helped to quickly return Draco to his former health. There was an uneasy truce between the two men, a fragile peace that threatened to shatter whenever they spent too much time in one another's company. Harry couldn't help but wonder how they would ever tolerate each other long enough to create a baby.

As the dpasspassed and the conception phase of his plan approached, Harry began to spend a great deal of time with his nose buried in various texts. Eventually, curiosity got the better of Draco, and late one night he decided to ask Harry why he had suddenly developed an interest in studying the dusty tomes.

"I'm trying to find information on aphrodisiac potions," Harry answered without looking up from his book.

Draco glared down at the other man. Giving in to tem temper, Draco snatched the book from Harry's hand and tossed it onto the floor. Sinking to his knees at Harry's feet, he pushed open the other man's dressing gown. Deftly, he ran the tip of his tongue up Harry's inner thigh, earning a shiver. He nipped gently at the sensitive flesh, letting his soft, cool hair brush against Harry's groin. At Harry's gasp, Draco grinned.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry asked, his voice slightly shaky with desire.

"Proving to you that you don't need aphrodisiac potions."

Harry pushed Draco away angrily and jumped up from his chair. He looked as if he wanted to shout something witty and cutting at Draco, but in the end Harry merely turned and stalked out of the room in a huff.

The next morning, Harry acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between the two of them.

*

Draco's next visit to Madame Broussard found him in perfect health.

"Drink this," she instructed, handing o a o a vial of pale pink liquid.

Taking the vial from her hand, Draco sniffed the potion gingerly. "Numbing potion?" he asked.

"Believe me, you don't want to feel what this spell is going to do to your body."

What little colour there was in Draco's face faded. He suddenly looked uncertain, but he quaffed the potion and calmly lay down on the hospital bed. Harry settled into a chair at Draco's bedside and took one slender, work-roughened hand in his own.

Startled, Draco glanced up into Harry's face. The hint of fear in those normally cool grey eyes worried Harry. Masking his own doubts, he smiled gently at Draco.

"You'll be fine," Harry assured him.

Draco looked away, staring at the ceiling and ignoring Harry. He didn't draw his hand away, however, and as Madame Broussard began to chant her spell, his grip on Harry's hand tightened.

The procedure went smoothly and painlessly, much to Harry's relief. Draco was so hopped up on Ness ess potion that he really wasn't concerned about much of anything. The mediwitch warned that Draco would be a bit sore for a few days, and that the two of them should wait a week or more before attempting to conceive. She gave Harry a supply of potions to aid the process and told him what symptoms might indicate pregnancy. Harry thanked her profusely before taking Draco home and tucking him into bed.

Over the next couple of days, Harry watched Draco closely. Although it was obvious that he was in pain, Draco never complained and always insisted that he was perfectly all right. His behaviour was a sharp contrast to the whinging brat that Harry remembered who would make a fuss over the tiniest scratch in a bid for attention and sympathy. Draco's silence worried Harry a good deal, but he didn't press the issue. He merely watched Draco to make certain he healed properly.

When it came time for him to begin taking the special cocktail of potions that Madame Broussard had prescribed, Draco's reaction was exactly what Harry had expected. Draco accepted the hormone mixture without a complaint but balked at the concoction that was to stabilise the changes made to his body.

"What is that?" Draco asked apprehensively the moment Harry unstoppered the vial of thick green sludge. "It smells like a cesspit."

"You've got to drink it, Draco," Harry said almost apologetically. "It's the stabilising potion."

"I can't drink that!"

Draco had recovered enough to complain about any and every thing and had pushed Harry almost to the breaking point. He simply couldn't take any more. "If you don't drink it, you've broken the contract," Harry said sternly.

Draco snatched the vial out of Harry's hand with hatred burning in his eyes. He downed the thick mixture in one gulp, instantly dropping the vial to cover his mouth with his hands. Harry tried valiantly not to feel sorry for Draco as he gagged on the foul potion, but in the end Harry took pity on the other man, wrapping an arm around Draco to support him as he coaxed the shaking blond into sipping a little water to wash the taste of the potion from his mouth.

Draco drank the water gratefully, eager to be rid of the horrible taste that lingered on his tongue. He had half a mind to kiss Potter just to show the git the wonderful flavour sensation he was missing out on. He might just do it, too, if he wasn't in so damned much pain and so very tired. Unconsciously, he rested his head on Harry's shoulder as he leaned on the other man for support.

The feel of Draco's head on his shoulder and the lean, firm body pressed against his sent sparks along Harry's nerve endings. It had been a very long time since he had held anyone like this. He tightened his arms around Draco, holding him close, savouring the moment that he knew would end as soon as Draco thought of something brilliantly scathing to say.

As it turned out, Draco never did snap off a witty remark. He merely pulled away from Harry shakily and announced that he needed to go and lie down. Guilt stabbed at Harry's heart as he watched Draco slowly make his way out of the room, one hand clutching at his still sore abdomen. Harry realised that Draco had already been through quite a lot for his sake. The little voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Hermione was telling him he should really try to be nicer to the man.

*

The two men fell easily back into their old routine of mostly ignoring one another except for at mealtimes when they were forced into one another's company. They traded insults occasionally, but Harry's were never too venomous. Draco, for his part, carefully avoided harassing Harry about Blaise, for which Harry was deeply grateful.

A few days after the potion incident, Harry lay on the sofa, eyes closed, listening to Muggle music and trying not to think of his absent lover. The song that played didn't help to keep such thoughts away, as it was melancholy and spoke of loss and love. Abruptly the music changed, midsong, to something more upbeat. Harry's eyes flew open.

Draco stood beside the stereo, an unreadable expression on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry snapped.

"Refusing to feed your self-pity," Draco replied levelly.

Fighting down the urge to hex the other man, Harry pointed his wand at the stereo and the bittersweet song he had been listening to began to play again. Again, Draco changed the music, this time at random, with a look of determination.

Laying his wand aside, Harry stalked across the room to change the music again, glaring at Draco all the while. Draco merely looked amused as he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and walked away from the stereo to collapse on the sofa.

"Are you trying to make me hex you?" Harry asked in an exasperated tone.

"You wouldn't curse me," Draco said smugly. "I'm too important to you."

Harry closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten, forcing himself to remain calm. When he had regained his equilibrium, he slowly opened his eyes again and focused them on Draco's. "Since you're feeling well enough to make my life hell, it's time for you to earn your keep," he said in a soft, dangerous tone.

Draco flinched slightly, whether at the implication or his tone of voice, Harry was uncertain. "With such a romantic proposition, Potter, I'm just dying to fall into your bed."

"I'm looking forward to it as much as you are," Harry replied smoothly.

With feline grace, Draco crossed the room, his gait seductive but his expression one of unbridled hatred. Harry was surprised by the effect that particular combination had on him; suddenly, he found himself rather looking forward to shagging Draco senseless.

Harry's lustful gaze ignited an answering arousal in Draco. With a nasty smile, he pushed Harry backwards to sit in an oversized armchair. Harry's breath quickened as he looked up at the blond towering over him.

In one swift movement, Draco plopped down in Harry's lap, intending to start his seduction at the man's neck and work his way down. He was completely unprepared for Harry's sharp yelp of pain that registered only seconds before Harry pushed him off his lap and onto the floor.

Scowling, with a scathing remark ready on his lips, Draco righted himself - and stopped cold. Harry had curled up in the chair, his knees against his chest, and it was clear that he was in a great deal of pain. Wondering if he had unintentionally hit Potter in the groin, Draco felt contrite and a little worried.

"What did I do?" Draco asked gently, impulsively brushing Harry's messy fringe back off his sweaty brow.

"My legs," Harry croaked. "You're really fucking heavy for such a skinny little bastard."

"I am not," Draco retorted hotly.

"Should have warned you," Harry rasped. "Fuck, that hurts."

"Should have warned me about what?"

"War injury."

Draco winced slightly. "I heard about that. I had forgotten. Sorry," he said, sounding like he might actually mean it.

"Like I said, should have warned you." Harry replied, his breath slowly beginning to even out again.

Suddenly Draco realised that he was still petting Harry's hair and jerked his hand away. Harry didn't seem to notice.

"Can you stand?" Draco asked. "I could help you to bed, get you a Numbing potion or something...."

Harry shook his head. "I couldn't walk that far. I'd never make the stairs. Maybe the couch," he said, slowly uncurling himself.

With Draco's help, Harry managed to right himself and tottered the few steps to lie on the couch. Draco hovered over him a moment, seeming uncertain about what to do next. Without warning, he began to unbutton and unzip Harry's jeans.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked weakly.

"For once, just trust me," Draco replied as he slid the loose-fitting jeans down Harry's legs.

Tossing the jeans aside, Draco visually examined the man lying before him. There was no outward sign of injury to Harry's legs whatsoever.

"Curse?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry nodded slightly. "Something I'd never heard of, which I know isn't saying much. The mediwizards didn't seem to know quite what to do about it, either."

"I'm guessing you take a lot of pain killing potions."

Again, Harry nodded. "More than I'd like to. They don't seem to work as well as they used to."

"Yes, well, you've probably built up a considerable tolerance for them. I'm going to try something....tell me if I hurt you."

Harry's eyes fluttered open. He looked confused and a little apprehensive, but he asked no questions. Draco took his silence for consent.

Starting at Harry's calves, Draco began massaging in slow, gentle circles, muttering a charm as he worked. Inch by inch, he worked his way up, carefully kneading the muscles. Harry relaxed visibly as the massage began to sooth away the pain, leaving behind only the dull ache that was so familiar.

As Harry relaxed beneath his hands, Draco became more confident. After a time, he stopped chanting the charm. His touches became more intimate: he stroked the soft flesh of Harry's inner thigh, traced the line of his y-fronts from his inner thigh upward, and slid his fingertips just under the soft cotton to caress Harry's hip.

Harry responded to Draco's touches with soft sighs. Smiling, Draco bent to press an open-mouthed kiss to Harry's stiffening cock through the soft cotton underpants. Harry moaned and arched his hips slightly.

"Do you think you can make it to your bed, now?" Draco asked coyly.

Harry glanced around the parlour, judging the furniture with a critical eye. "I hope so," he answered at last.

Leaning slightly on Draco, Haranaganaged to clamber up the stairs. He led Draco to his bedroom, the only room in the house Draco had never been inside of before. Wordlessly, Harry shucked his y-fronts and climbed onto the massive bed, turning to look at Draco expectantly.

Knowing from Harry's actions how he wanted things to go, Draco sighed inwardly and stripped off his lightweight summer robes. He toed off his shoes and socks before shimmying out of his boxers.

Looking up at Potter, Draco was struck by how nervous the man looked - almost like a virgin on her wedding night. With a sensuous smile slowly curving his lips, Draco crawled across the bed towards Harry. He lowered his head to tickle Harry's toes with the tip of his tongue. Harry's foot jerked slightly, but Draco held it firmly in his hands and began to lap and suck at Harry's toes, delighting in Harry's soft moan of pleasure. He moved upward slightly, pressing kisses to Harry's instep and then his ankle. With agonising slowness, Draco inched his way up Harry's body, licking, kissing, sucking, and nibbling. He nipped gently at Harry's inner thighs, as he had before, revelling in the way the man's body shuddered when he did so.

Risking a glance up, Draco saw that Harry's eyes were squeezed shut, his hands fisted in the sheets as he panted. Smirking, Draco lowered his head back to Harry's body, sucking at the hollow of Harry's hip. Taking great care not to inadvertently rub against Harry's weeping cock, Draco ran his tongue up from his navel to his breastbone. He lapped at one pink nipple and then sucked it into his mouth as he firmly rolled the other between his fingertips.

After a brief exploration of Harry's neck, Draco pressed his lips to Harry's panting mouth. Harry jolted, pulling away from Draco.

"No," he whimpered.

The small, broken sound coming from this particular man wrenched Draco's heart. "Do you want to stop?" he asked.

Harry shook his head slightly. "No. Just...just don't kiss me on the mouth."

Draco liked kissing. In fact, he thought it highly underrated. He was not, however, about to argue the point. "All right," he agreed softly.

Resting his head against Harry's shoulder, he resumed his exploration of the other man's throat, kissing and sucking the pulse point, the hollow of Harry's collarbone. He wrapped one hand around Harry's cock, squeezing as he gave it one long, slow stroke.

"God!" Harry gasped. "Stop, Draco," he commanded, pushing the pale, slender hand away.

The next instant, Harry took control. He pressed Draco down onto his back and covered the pale body with his own. His hands pressed to the mattress on either side of Draco's head, Harry began to rock his hips gently, pressing his erection firmly against Draco's. Soon they were both gasping and panting.

Harry rolled off Draco, fumbling in a drawer in the bedside table. Draco took advantage of Harry's awkward position and nipped at the soft skin of Harry's perfectly shaped backside. Harry jumped and let out a small yelp, slammed the drawer shut with a loud bang, and turned his attention back to the man in his bed, a small tube of lubricant in his hand.

Quickly and rather mechanically, Harry slicked his hand with the gel. Concentrating on staying in control, Harry pressed two slippery fingers into Draco's body, drawing an appreciative moan from the blond. A few in and out movements, a little scissoring and twisting, and he added a third finger. Almost as an afterthought, he felt for Draco's prostate, massaging it as he thrust.

When Draco began to thrust back against his hand, Harry withdrew his fingers and rolled Draco over onto his stomach. Slicking his cock, Harry positioned himself behind Draco. Grasping Draco's hips firmly, Harry slowly guided himself into the warm, willing body beneath him.

As he began to thrust, Harry reached around Draco's quivering body to take his pulsing cock in hand. He stroked Draco in time to the thrusts, concentrating on reaching his climax and trying not to actually think about what they were doing.

In a matter of minutes, it was all over. Harry gave one final thrust, holding himself deep, trembling as his seed spilled inside of Draco's body. Draco's cock jerked in his fist and a warm wetness splashed over his handent,ent, he collapsed atop Draco, hoping he wasn't crushing the other man, but too tired to care.

When he could move again, Harry rolled off Draco, his breathing not quite returned to normal. Looking around for his wand, he swore under his breath. Draco turned sated, sleepy eyes on him. He grinned as he realised what it was that had caused Harry's outburst.

Languidly and reluctantly, Draco crawled across the bed and retrieved his own wand from his discarded robes. He cast a few quick cleaning spells and then moved to lie back down at Harry's side.

Harry ignored him. He pulled up the sheets and rolled onto his side, his back to Draco. Frustrated, annoyed, and a little hurt, Draco snatched up his clothes and slammed out of the room.

Harry ignored that, too.

*

When Harry awoke, the first thing he became aware of was a warm body curled around his own. He distinctly remembered Draco stalking out of the room and slamming the door after they had....well, he didn't want to think about that.

Turning over carefully, Harry peered curiously at the other occupant of his bed. Sure enough, there lay Draco, dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, curled on his side on top of the sheets, sleeping soundly. Harry had told Draco not to come into his room unless invited, but right now he was glad that Draco hadn't paid particular attention to that term of their contract. Although he was reluctant to admit it, even to himself, the other man's presence was comforting.

Snuggling closer to the welcoming warmth of Draco's body, Harry let his eyelids fall shut and quickly drifted back to sleep.

A few hours later, he awoke again, this time to the intoxicating sensation of Draco's firm backside wiggling against his stiffening cock. Harry instinctively rocked forward against Draco, eliciting a needful moan from the other man. Too aroused to waste time, Harry jerked Draco's pyjama bottoms down and began pumping him furiously. Draco began to gibber nonsense - loudly - as he continued to push back against Harry's erection. A brief pause to slick himself, and Harry was pressing Draco into the mattress and sliding home. He thrust wildly into his lover's body, drawing heated moans and impassioned cries from Draco's perfect cupid's-bow mouth. Harry didn't care about those cries, didn't care whether he was pleasing Draco or hurting him. Maybe he even wanted to hurt him. He wasn't quite sure.

It was over as quickly as it started. Harry collapsed on top of Draco, gasping for breath, and when he could, he moved away. He climbed out of bed and headed for the shower, not giving a damn that Draco was left unsated and unhappy.

*

Draco, unsurprisingly, avoided Harry that day. He refused to come out of his room, even for meals, and Harry began to feel a little guilty. In turn, he became angry with himself for feeling guilty. By the end of the day, he had worked himself into quite a state, and he retired to his room feeling thoroughly miserable.

Harry paused in the doorway to his bedroom, completely shocked by the sight that met his eyes: Draco sprawled face down and naked across the bed. A hot wave of arousal washed over him, followed quickly by another stab of guilt that took him unawares. He chased the guilt away by dredging up righteous indignation from the very depths of his person.

"You're forbidden from being in here," Harry said coldly.

"I expected you wouldn't come to my rooms," Draco replied civilly, tucking the pillow more comfortably beneath his chin.

"Why are you here?" Harry snapped, balling his hands into fists at his sides.

"Isn't that obvious, Potter?" Draco replied silkily, looking back over his bare shoulder in a calculated pose. "Just keeping my end of the bargain." He half turned, producing a vial that had been hidden in his hand. "This should help."

Harry looked at the vial suspiciously. "What is it?"

"An aphrodisiac. Guaranteed instant erection. I took the liberty of preparing myself, as well, to save you the trouble." The hard look in his eyes belied Draco's soft, at int innocent tone.

"Get out," Harry demanded.

"Difficult to knock me up if you kick me out of your bed," Draco replied.

"GET OUT!" Harry roared, shaking with rage.

"Just fuck me and get it over with!" Draco yelled back.

Harry snatched the potion out of Draco's hand, jerked out the stopper, and quaffed it in one go. He had just enough time to lay his glasses aside before the potions effects flooded his system, rendering him completely incapable of taking time or care with anything.

Draco lay back down on the bed, clenching his teeth and bracing himself for a violent assault. He turned his head a little to watch Harry jerking off his clothes in an impassioned frenzy. The look on Harry's face frightened Draco more than he c to to admit, even to himself.

As much as Harry wanted to hurt Draco - to hit him with his fists and scratch him until he bled - he found he couldn't take his anger and pain out on the man. He took a deep breath, and then began, not caressing or pleasuring Draco, but taking care not to hurt him. A short time later, he came, sobbing, and pulled away to curl up in a tight little ball of pain and regret.

When the effects of the potion and the pain of his own twisted thoughts subsided and the blood pounding in his ears quieted, Harry found that he was not alone. Draco lay on the bed beside him, his forehead pressed to Harry's, their hands intertwined on the bed between them.

As soon as Harry's breathing quieted, Draco disentangled himself and slipped from the bed. Drawing on his dressing gown, Draco took one last fleeting look at Harry and then left without another word.

Harry awoke in the middle of the night, his slumber interrupted by disturbing dreams. A quick check of the time confirmed that it was far too early to rise, but Harry knew he wouldn't be able to return to sleep. He pulled on the clothes he had discarded, privately repulsed by the events of the evening, and wandered towards the study in search of a snifter of brandy.

*

And so it went. Each day, the two men would act as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on between them, mostly ignoring one another's presence. Each night, Draco would invite himself into Harry's rooms, naked and prepared, and offer Harry the aphrodisiac potion in a less than friendly manner. Harry would always take the potion, barely able to restrain himself from hurting Draco in his anger and his passion.

It wasn't until the third night that Harry realised that Draco actually enjoyed their nearly violent sexual encounters. He was disgusted to realise that he rather enjoyed them himself.

After that, things took a turn for the worse. The two began to fight more - often about nothing - and both of them felt their tempers spiralling out of control. Both men were quickly reaching the boiling point, only needing the proper catalyst to create a horrific explosion.

A little more than two months after Draco underwent the fertility procedure, things came to a head.

Harry was lying on the sofa in the parlour, glasses off and eyes closed, listening to loud, pulse-pounding music - the kind that made it impossible for him to think. Draco, who was feeling slightly ill from the stabilising potion and was, therefore, not in the best of moods, took it upon himself to turn down the volume and change the music to something more soothing.

Almost languidly, Harry waved his wand, resetting the stereo to the loud, thumping rock music. Draco changed it back, his blood pressure rising. Harry waved his wand again, and the movement was met with a cry of "Expelliarmus!" from Draco.

A flush rising in his cheeks, Harry leapt up and crossed the room, intending to retrieve his wand. With a self-satisfied smirk, Draco cast a banishing charm, sending Harry's wand flying across the room.

Without pausing to think, Harry raised his hand and struck Draco hard across the face. He was sorry the instant he felt the sting of contact and heard the sharp sound of skin striking skin, but he never had a chance to apologise. In the next instant, Draco launched himself at Harry, sending them both tumbling to the ground as he blindly rained furious blows down on the arms Harry had raised to protect his face.

When he realised that his fists were hitting nothing except Harry's bony arms, Draco paused. Harry took advantage of the situation to roll them over, trapping Draco beneath him so that the blond couldn't attack him again.

As he stared down at the flushed face only inches below his, Harry became aware of two things. The first was that Draco seemed not at all displeased at being held down by Harry. The second was that he himself seemed to be enjoying the situation, if the erection pressing into Draco's hip was any indication. Even the burning pain in his legs didn't seem to dampen his arousal.

Draco shifted beneath him, then, not trying to get away but only seeking to bring his erection into contact with Harry's. Harry pulled back, preparing to run, but Draco wasn't letting him go so easily.

With practised ease, Draco ran his hands up underneath the front of Harry's shirt, sliding them over the smooth skin of Harry's chest until he could pinch pul pull at his nipples. Harry cried out softly and ground his hips against Draco's, drawing a moan from the flush-faced blond.

All thoughts of flight forgotten, Harry struggled out of his tee shirt, allowing Draco freer access. Draco took full advantage, leaning up to lick and suck at the newly exposed skin, his hands digging into Harry's back. Harry pushed Draco away gently, forcing him to lie back. Hunger burning in his eyes, Harry began to unbutton Draco's shirt, his brows furrowed in concentration. Draco's hands brushed over Harry's stomach, causing him to gasp, and then he was unfastening Harry's jeans. With a frustrated groan, Harry jerked on Draco's shirt, sending the tiny buttons flying in all directions. Draco moaned loudly and arched up against Harry.

Jeans and trousers and underwear followed the shirts and buttons, and the two men revelled in the sensation of skin sliding over skin. Impatient now, Harry leaned far forward over Draco, fumbling for the man's wand. He gasped and nearly came at the unexpected feeling of Draco's hot mouth closing around his cock.

Wand forgotten, Harry's hands fisted in the spun silk of Draco's hair. Encouraged, Draco began to move his mouth up and down the thick column of Harry's cock, now drawing up to swirl his tongue over the sensitive head, now taking Harry in as far as he could. Draco took Harry in fully once more - and hummed. With a hoarse shout, Harry came, hard, pulling Draco's hair hard enough to make his grey eyes water, and melted into Draco's strong arms.

Guilt flooded into Harry's mind, washing away the euphoria of orgasm. He jerked out of Draco's embrace.

"What the fuck was that?" Harry cried.

Draco's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in anger.

Harry tugged on his boxers, his face flushed and his hands shaking. "You can't get pregnant from a blowjob," he mutt ang angrily as he stalked out of the room.

After a long shower and a round of self-examination, Harry headed back downstairs in search of Draco. He felt bad for shouting at him and wanted to make amends.

He found Draco in the study, sitting on the wide window ledge, staring out at the moonlit night. Draco shifted slightly at the sound of Harry's footsteps, but didn't turn around. Harry stood, shifting from foot to foot, not certain what to say.

After a time, Draco broke the silence. "You needn't worry about me throwing myself at you again, Potter," he said quietly. "I apologise for... disrupting your plans."

Harry gave a little snort of wry amusement. "You should never apologise for giving someone a mind-blowing orgasm." He moved to sit beside Draco on the window seat. "I'm the one who should be apologising. I shouldn't have yelled. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," Draco replied, not entirely truthfully. "But you're hurting you. I...I don't suppose I ever believed that yoallyally cared for Blaise. But you did, and being with someone else is killing you. Blaise...he wouldn't want me to hurt you like this."

"Why do you care what he would have wanted?" Harry snapped.

"Because I loved him, too," Draco said so quietly that Harry wasn't certain he had heard him correctly.

Harry sat, stunned, as Draco slipped from the window seat and padded silently out of the room.

*

The next morning, Harry sought out Draco once again. He found him curled into an armchair in the parlour, a cup of herbal tea in his hand and chamber music playing softly on the stereo.

Harry pushed an ottoman over in front of Draco's chair and sat down on it, looking slightly up into Draco's paler than usual face.

"I..." Harry began. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I didn't know, Draco, or I would never have asked you to do this."

Harry withdrew a sheet a parchment from his pocket and unrolled it, showing Draco that it was the contract they had drawn up. His eyes never leaving Draco's, he tossed the parchment into the fireplace and ignited it with a wave of his wand.

Draco made a little mewling noise in protest. Alarm and perhaps a little fear showed plainly on his face.

"My original offer still stands, but you're welcome to stay even if you choose to turn it down. In fact, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like, no strings attached. I owe you that at least."

"It's a bit late for a change of heart, Potter," Draco snapped. "I expect I'm already pregnant." He took another sip of his tea, watching Harry's expression as his words sank in.

Pleased shock registered on Harry's face, but a look of annoyed suspicion quickly replaced it. "How long have you known?" he asked harshly.

"I've suspected for a few days now," Draco admitted, staring down into his teacup.

Guilt, outrage, and fear warred for control, the battle showing clearly on Harry's face. Concern pushed them all aside, however. "You should have said something," he chastised gently. "You need to see Madame Broussard."

Responding to something in Harry's tone, Draco looked up from his cup. Harry reached out and gently caressed Draco's cheek. Draco closed his eyes and fought the urge to pull away.

*

Madame Broussard confirmed that Draco was indeed pregnant. She prescribed a potion for his morning sickness, which he had been trying to treat with peppermint tea, and urged him to take proper care of himself. She also suggested that he find a mediwitch in Hogsmeade, as Flooing, flying, and Apparation were no longer advisable.

Harry, in a misguided attempt to make up for past sins, waited on Draco hand and foot. Anything that Draco craved, or pretended to crave, Harry found a way to acquire, much to Draco's amusement. Above all, Harry avoided upsetting Draco.

As the weeks slipped by, any time that Harry wasn't asking after Draco's health or Draco wasn't sending Harry off in search of his latest craving, the two men continued to mostly ignore each other. Or so they thought.

Often Harry caught himself studying Draco: the curve of his face, the way he methodically diced his breakfast egg, the almost orgasmic expression on his face when he savoured the first bite of a particularly exquisdelidelicacy, the affectionate way he sometimes rubbed his now slightly rounded stomach.

For Draco's part, he sometimes slipped into Harry's room late at night and lay beside Harry, watching him sleep. He would admit - at least to himself - that he had come to care a great deal about Harry Potter. As long as Harry wanted nothing to do with him, however, that knowledge would go no farther than his own mind.

A few months into Draco's pregnancy, Harry awoke to find the other man sleeping soundly in the bed beside him. He didn't raise the alarm, rout him out, and send him on his way. Instead, he merely smiled to himself sleepily and rested his hand on the slight bulge in Draco's abdomen. It was still too early to feel the baby moving, but Harry liked the feel - and look - of Draco's body, swollen with his child.

Later that week, the two visited the mediwizard Madame Broussard had suggested. Healer Blevins was a forty-something-year-old man with a pleasant bedside manner and three kids of his own. With a knowing smile, he cast a spell, and suddenly an image appeared above Draco's rounded belly.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to your daughter," he said.

"It's a girl?" Draco asked, his heart beating faster as he stared at the tiny creature the image showed. She was sucking her thumb.

Harry's heart melted at his first sight of his tiny unborn daughter. He knew in that instant that whatever he and Draco had suffered, it would all be worth it.

"Yes, definitely a girl. Not much doubt about it," the mediwizard confirmed. "Congratulations, gentlemen."

Harry tucked a very tired Draco into bed the moment they arrived home, and then he headed for the library. Draco found him there hours later, pouring over books.

"What are you looking for this time?" Draco asked pleasantly. "I hope it's something t wit with food. I'm starving."

Harry jumped up from his chair, knocking over a stack of books in the process. Swearing under his breath, Harry righted the books.

"Sorry," he said. "Forgot all about dinner. I'll just go..."

He was cut off by a loud rumble from Draco's stomach. Draco pressed his hand to his belly, looking mortified.

Harry blinked. "We'll go out," he said decisively.

"Out?" Draco cried. "Are you mad? I look like I swallowed a dragon egg."

"You look all right," Harry assured him automatically. "Actually, in those robes you look a damn sight better than all right." He stopped, realising what he was saying, and his face turned a rather alarming shade of pink.

Draco looked uncharacteristically thrown for a moment. "I'd really rather not go out, Harry," he said quietly, running one hand over his slightly swollen abdomen.

"You honestly look fine," Harry replied. "But if you're certain..."

"I'd really rather..." Draco's voiced trailed into silence as an odd expression crossed his face. Suddenly, the expression changed to a warm smile as he closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his stomach.

"Draco?"

The grey eyes fluttered open at the concern in Harry's voice. "She's moving around," Draco explained, awe evident in his tone.

Harry moved to stand beside Draco, one arm going around his shoulders and the other resting over the pale hand on his belly. He knew he wouldn't be able to feel the baby's kicks for a few mores weeks, but the protective gesture just seemed...right. Draco leaned into the embrace, the dazed smile still curving the corners of his mouth.

The two stood wrapped in one another's arms for a few moments, and then Draco's stomach gave another disgusting little gurgle. The blond pulled out of the embrace, looking uncomfortable.

"I'll just..." he began, waving one hand in a vague gesture. He turned away and slipped out of the room.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling completely lost, uncertain whether he truly wanted to bridge the distance between himself and Draco but longing for more contact such as they had just shared. After a moment, he headed for the kitchen, hoping to distract himself from his jumbled thoughts and hoping, too, that he could figure out something quick to throw together for dinner.

Swinging open the kitchen door, Harry stopped short at the sight that met his eyes: Draco, singing along with the song on the Wizard's wireless while he made sandwiches. Grinning, Harry crossed the room ton onn on the counter where Draco was working.

"I never imagined you knew your way around a kitchen," he teased, hoping Draco wouldn't be offended.

Draco merely looked thoughtful. "I think you'd be amazed at all the things I've had to learn," he replied quietly and silently offered Harry a sandwich, which he gratefully accepted with a tiny smile.

The two men ate their impromptu dinner leaning against the kitchen counter with the Wireless playing merrily in the background.

"So," Draco asked, gingerly brushing crumbs from his hands. "What were you researching this time?"

A slight bit of colour rose in Harry's cheeks. "Baby names," he admitted. "I was thinking of Lillian, perhaps, or Susana...what do you think?"

For a moment, some unnamable emotion flared in Draco's eyes, but when he turned his gaze on Harry, his face was utterly devoid of emotion. "I can hardly see why my opinion would matter, Potter. This is, after all, your child. You can call her whatever you like."

Scooping up the second half of his sandwich and his glass of milk, Draco swept out of the kitchen with his back straight and his head high. Harry had come to realise that the regal air usually meant that Draco was hiding the fact that something had hurt him deeply. Feeling helpless, Harry finished off his dinner and went back to his books.

*

Harry continued to scour every book he could get his hands on - from texts on name origins to poetry anthologies to Muggle telephone directories - searching for the perfect name for his little girl. His energy for the subject seemed bottomless as he became more and more engrossed in his quest. Often Draco would lounge in the doorway, watching as Harry scanned a book, sighed, and set it aside. Although Harry's obsession amused Draco, he felt a strange empty ache inside that grew stronger each time he caught Potter buried in his books.

At last, Harry caught Draco watching him work.

"I really wish you'd help me out here," Harry said, grinning. "I'm no closer to finding a name than I was when I started."

"Why not name her after your mother or that Granger girl or some such and be done with it?" Draco replied stiffly.

"I want her to have her own name. I don't want her thinking she has to live up to some ideal of another person."

Draco nodded once, understanding completely. Having been named after his father's great-grandfather, Draco understood about having to live up to a name.

"I seem to recall your suggesting `Susana'," he said at last. "Caelyn Susana Potter," he said decisively.

Before Harry could tell Draco that he rather liked the name, before he even had time to acknowledge the suggestion, Draco turned and swept out of the room. Refusing to let the other man's mood swings get to him, Harry summoned a book from across the room and began thumbing through it, searching for the name that Draco had chosen.

He paused, his finger hovering over the name, as he read and re-read the meaning. His eyes misting, Harry set the book aside, deciding that Draco could not have chosen a more appropriate name.

"Forever loved," he whispered. Wiping away a stray tear, Harry doused the lights and headed up to bed.

At the top of the stairs, Harry paused. After a moment of deliberation, he chose to turn left towards Draco's bedroom rather than right towards his own.

Harry found the door to Draco's room slightly ajar, so rather than knock, he pushed the door open a little wider and peeked inside. Draco was lying on the bed, curled up on his side with his arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen.

Moving as quietly as possible, Harry toed off his shoes and stripped off his jeans and his t-shirt. Setting his glasses on the bedside table, he crawled into Draco's bed, trying his best not to disturb the other man. Slipping between the sheets, Harry spooned up behind Draco and wrapped his arm around him.

Harry felt Draco stiffen slightly, and wondered if he had been wrong to come in here, to invade Draco's privacy and invite himself into the other man's bed. Draco slowly relaxed into his embrace, however, and Harry let out a small sigh of relief that tickled the back of Draco's neck.

Letting his eyes drift closed, Harry tried not to think too terribly much about the future or the past. He forced himself to focus on the present, this single perfect moment in time, and he smiled to himself.

A moment later, he let out a gasp of surprise and arousal as Draco pressed back against him. The blond wriggled his hips and pressed back more firmly, and an involuntary moan slipped out past Harry's slightly parted lips. The moan was answered with more wriggling, and Harry quickly slid his hands to Draco's hips to stop the movement.

"Don't," Harry whispered hoarsely.

Draco jerked away as if he had been struck. "I think you should leave," he said harshly.

Uncertain what had just transpired, Harry did as Draco bid him. He slipped out of bed, retrieved his things, and retired to his own room. Confused thoughtasedased themselves around and around in his mind. Sleep did not come easily that night.

*

The next morning, Draco acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. This, Harry realised, was starting to become a rather annoying habit for the blond. By teatime, the tension caused by the pretense began to drive Harry a bit mad.

Harry turned down the volume on the Muggle television Draco had become far too enamoured of during the time he had been staying in Harry's home and pulled a chair near the couch. Malfoy looked irritated, but made no attempt to avoid the confrontation he clearly knew Harry was on the verge of initiating.

"I wanted to apologise for invading your privacy last night," Harry began.

Draco gave Harry a hard look. "You may do whatever you like, Potter. This is your home after all."

"And yours, as I said before, for as long as you want it to be," Harry replied. "I shouldn't have invited myself into your room."

"I just wish you'd make up your fucking mind," Draco snapped. "You come crawling into my bed, and then when I show a little interest, you push me away. Not that I'm surprised - you've got what you want," he added, running one hand over his swollen belly and refusing to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry moved, slowly and cautiously, from the chair to the sofa. One hand went almost instinctively to cover the thin, pale one resting on Draco's abdomen. The other drifted up to stroke a wisp of blond hair back from Draco's face.

"You love her," Harry said. "You don't want to give her up." His voice was soft and filled with regret.

Draco swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I made a bargain. I'll not try to back out of it now," he said, his voice sounding strained and weak.

"I never meant to imply that you would," Harry said. He paused for a moment. "There is no contract, Draco. You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you everything," Draco whispered. Pulling away, Draco staggered to his feet and fled to the safety of his bedroom.

*

As the days passed, Draco became more sullen and withdrawn. He kept to his rooms more than ever, and Harry hardly ever saw him.

Harry tried to regain his former excitement about the baby. He browsed through Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley looking for items for Caelyn's room. He even ventured into Muggle London for the same. Everywhere he went, though, he felt the urge to ask Draco's opinion or to point out adorable little tots to the other man. Without Draco by his side, Harry found he just didn't enjoy the anticipation of impending fatherhood as much as he should.

One afternoon about halfway into Draco's fifth month of pregnancy, Harry was roused from his brooding by an insistent knock on his front door. Wondering who might be daft enough to disturb him when he was in such a foul temper, Harry jerked the door open, harsh words ready on his lips.

The words died as he found himself staring into the nervously smiling face of Ronald Weasley.

"Ron," he said, feeling incredibly stupid for stating the obvious.

"Hullo, Harry," Ron returned amiably.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked as he led Ron inside and closed the door. Harry hoped he didn't sound displeased. In all honesty, he was glad to see his friend. He just wasn't certain his current mood would let him truly appreciate the visit.

"We've been worried about you, Harry. Haven't heard anything out of you in weeks. I thought I should check in on you, is all," Ron replied.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that," Harry apologised. "I've...well, I've rather had my hands full."

"With what exactly?" Ron asked, sounding genuinely interested.

A sudden sharp blast of noise from the parlour made both men startle. Harry reached one hand up to rub his temples. He would never understand why Draco felt the need to have the volume turned up so high on the telly.

"It's rather a long story," Harry began, trying to ignore the sound of Draco flipping through the various television channels.

Ron darted a quizzical glance towards the hallway that led to the parlour. "I'm certain I have time," he replied.

Harry led Ron away from the parlour and into the kitchen. Over tea, he began to explain the situation - how he had decided to become a parent and how Draco Malfoy had fallen into the role of surrogate mother. He carefully left out the parts of the story that included the two of them having sex and Harry being needlessly cruel.

As Ron sat silently, letting Harry's words sink in, Draco waddled into the kitchen. All traces of grace and poise had fled the man by this point, but Harry still found him breathtaking. He couldn't help staring.

Draco paused in the doorway, looking horrified. "Weasley," he said in a near whisper. He sounded almost frightened.

"Malfoy," Ron returned civilly, surprised when Draco winced at the name.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Draco said quietly.

"Harry was just telling me about the baby," Ron explained carefully. "You're not interrupting at all. Come and sit down," he offered.

Draco's grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. "No, thank you," he declined politely. Without another word, he turned and shuffled away.

Sighing, Harry leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. "He's always like this. He won't talk to me. He acts as if I don't even exist."

"Is there something going on between you two that you haven't told me about?" Ron asked cautiously.

"Er..." Harry said.

"Right. So. What did you do to piss him off?"

"What?" Harry asked incredulously.

"You've gotten him in a right state. I just wondered what you did to cause it. Not that it would take much in his condition. Hormones and such, you know," Ron said sagely.

"What do you know about it?" Harry retorted angrily.

"Mate, I've a niece and two nephews - and another on the way. I know a little bit about pregnant women. More than I want to know, really."

"I wish I knew what I did to upset him. Then maybe I could fix it," Harry replied glumly.

"You can make it up to him, anyway, mate. Do something nice for him. I don't know...take him out or whatnot. Wine him, dine him, romance him, and take him to bed," Ron suggested.

"I can't do that!" Harry replied, scandalized.

"Well, maybe not the first part. Don't think pregnant folk are supposed to drink alcohol..."

"No, Ron. The last part. I can't take him to bed," Harry said.

"Why ever not? Isn't that how he came to be in this state to begin with?"

"Ron! That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean, mate, because honestly, I think you've lost me," Ron admitted.

"I don't want to hurt Draco...or the baby," Harry said quietly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you really think pregnant people don't have sex, Harry? No wonder you've pissed him off. You've probably got him thinking that he doesn't do it for you anymore."

Harry stared at his friend in shock. "Why are you okay with this?"

Looking suddenly serious, Ron rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "When Blaise died, it was like a part of you died, too. You might not be happy, Harry, and I know you'll always miss Blaise, but you seem more alive than you have in years. Doesn't matter what the reason is, Harry. I'm just glad to see you back in the land of the living."

*

After Ron had gone, Harry thought about everything that his friend had said. He realised that Caelyn was not the only reason that he felt alive again. He had known that for some time, but now he forced himself to examine the fact. Even after he finally had his daughter, Harry knew, there would be a huge hole in his life - and his heart - if Draco weren't there with them.

*

Draco continued to haunt the house, quickly exiting any room that Harry inhabited. Harry grew more annoyed daily by Draco's blatant avoidance of him, so he developed a plan.

On a bright Thursday morning a little more than a week after the visit from Ron, Harry wandered into the kitchen with a book under one arm. Setting the book on the table, Harry brandished his wand and cast an intricate ward on the kitchen door. Satisfied with his handiwork, Harry made coffee and sat down to read his book and wait.

Perhaps two hours later, Draco shambled into the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower. His dressing gown was growing rather tight, now, and Harry automatically made a mental note to buy a new one.

Harry set his book aside with a dull thump, drawing Draco's attention to his presence. Draco, as Harry anticipated, immediately turned to flee the kitchen - only to be stopped by Harry's ward.

Startled by the presence of a wall he could not see, Draco recoiled. Cautiously, he reached out to feel the space which should be an open doorway and collided with the invisible wall. Raising his fists, he battered ineffectually at the ward-wall for a moment before turning to Harry with anger blazing in his dove-grey eyes.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he snarled.

"You've been avoiding me," Harry said calmly. "I wanted to talk."

"I've nothing to say to you," Draco replied coldly. "Let me out of here."

"Not until we've talked."

Draco stood glaring at Harry for a moment, and tforcforced down his anger as he turned his attention to the coffee pot.

"You really shouldn't..." Harry began.

"Don't you dare tell me what I should and should not do, Potter," Draco snapped. "I've memorised all the books Madame Broussard gave me. I doubt you ever even looked at them."

Harry couldn't argue that. He had hardly skimmed the books on pregnancy that the mediwitch had given them.

Draco poured himself a cup of coffee and made his way to the table. As he sat down his cup, Draco winced and pressed his hand to his belly.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, rising from his chair.

"She doesn't likewhenwhen I get angry with you, apparently," Draco answered. "And she has really strong legs."

Harry cautiously made his way around the table. Draco glanced up at him and sighed. For some unknown reason, he had a hard time staying angry with Potter.

To Harry's surprise, Draco reached out and took his hand.

"You should be able to feel her kicking," Draco explained, guiding Harry's hand to his abdomen.

Sure enough, a moment later, the baby kicked and Harry felt a little bump against his palm. Tears filled his eyes as he felt his child moving for the first time. He looked up, and as his gaze met Draco's, the blond smiled at him.

They stood for a moment, looking into each other's eyes as the baby squirmed and kicked under Harry's hand. Suddenly, Draco's jaw tightened.

"Drop the wards," he said, his tone neither command nor entreaty.

Harry gave him a puzzled look.

"Your daughter just kicked me in the bladder," Draco ground out. "Drop the fucking wards!"

Scrambling to obey, Harry snatched up his wand and dismantled the wards. Only after Draco was safely out of hearing distance did Harry allow the laughter bubbling up inside him to slip past his lips.

Feeling a slight easing in the tension between himself and Draco, Harry set about making breakfast for the two of them. Flicking on the wireless with a careless wave of his wand, Harry set to work with a smile, singing along with the songs he knew and generally feeling in good spirits.

He didn't notice Draco loitering in the doorway, watching his every move. He remained completely unaware of the other man's presence until Draco walked by him on his way to gather dishes and flatware to set the table.

Harry's jaw dropped in surprise, but he said nothing.

The two men ate silently, the music from the wireless providing a comfortable hum in the background. Harry, pleased with the forward progress he had made, decided against trying to press Draco into conversation. He waited until they had finished eating to speak.

"Do you feel like getting out of the house for a bit today?" Harry asked as he cleared away the breakfast dishes.

"Perhaps," Draco replied cautiously. "What did you have in mind?"

"I thought we might do a little shopping. There are a few things I need, and..."

"Why do you need me to hold your hand while you do it?" Draco cut him off harshly.

Closing his eyes in an effort to control his temper, Harry took a deep breath before responding. "You need clothes that actually fit, Draco. I can't guess either at your measurements or your tastes."

"Oh."

Harry opened his eyes at the soft sound. Draco was standing at the table, leaning on the back of his chair with his head tilted down so that his hair tumbled down to partially hide his face. Even through the blond curtain, the slightly shamed expression on Draco's face was unmistakable.

"If you're not feeling up to it today, we can go another time," Harry offered.

"No, I...today is fine," Draco replied.

"All right, then. I'll be in the parlour when you're ready to go."

Harry immediately made his way to the parlour and slid into his favourite spot on the sofa. He flicked on the stereo with a wave of his wand and settled back to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

After almost an hour, Harry pulled himself to his feet and headed upstairs to check on Draco. With each step he climbed, his heart beat harder as fear welled up inside him. By the time he reached the landing, Harry was certain something horrible had happened to Draco and the baby. He dashed down the hallway and jerked open the door to Draco's bedroom.

Draco spun to face the door, his eyes wide and tear-bright. He stood before his now empty wardrobe in only his boxers, discarded clothing lying scattered on the carpet at his feet. Seeing Harry standing in the open doorway, Draco snatched up the nearest article of clothing - his dressing gown, which happened to be the only thing not lying on the ground and thus out of his reach - and held it before him in an attempt to cover his near nudity.

Harry just stared.

The last time Harry had seen Draco without a nightshirt, dressing gown, or robes covering him had been the night before he'd learned that Draco was pregnant. Not once had he seen Draco's swollen belly without a layer of cloth concealing it - until now.

Harry crossed the room, neither especially slowly nor especially quickly, to stand before Draco. He gently tugged the dressing gown from Draco's hands. Tossing the garment aside, Harry ran both hands lightly over Draco's abdomen.

After a moment, Draco guided one of Harry's hands to one side and pressed Harry's fingers more firmly into his flesh. A smile lit Harry's face as his daughter kicked and rolled beneath his hand. Glancing up at Draco's face, the smile faded just as suddenly as it had appeared.

Draco stood with his eyes closed and his brows furrowed. His jaw was tightly clenched. Anyone could see that he felt completely uncomfortable with the current situation. What Harry didn't know was why Draco felt that way.

"Draco," he said softly, moving one hand to gently touch the other man's face. "Draco, look at me."

Slowly, Draco opened his eyes, his expression remaining tense and guarded. He managed to give the impression of looking at Harry by looking at a point over Harry's shoulder. Harry, having done the same himself on many occasions, recognised the trick at once. He couldn't imagine why Draco refused to meet his eyes, why he seemed so shy.

Then Ron's words came back to him.

"Draco," Harry said gently. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

Draco's eyes darted over to make contact with Harry's. He looked incredibly confused.

"Don't mock me, Potter," he said, dismayed when his words came out as a plea rather than a snarling command.

Harry didn't reply. He just shook his head slightly and leaned forward to press his lips to Draco's temple.

Then the hand on Draco's stomach slid around to stroke softly at the small of his back. The fingers grazing Draco's cheek slid back to tangle in his hair and gently pull his head back. The lips that had pressed against Draco's temple now traced a hot, moist trail down the graceful column of his neck.

Draco moaned and tried to press forward into the hot solidity of Harry's body. When the roundness of his stomach halted his forward movement, he gasped and tried to pull away, but Harry held him tightly.

"Shhh..." Harry soothed. "So beautiful," he murmured against Draco's ear before darting his tongue out to trace the delicate curve.

Draco shuddered in Harry's arms, afraid to make a sound lest he break whatever spell Harry might be under.

Harry nuzzled behind Draco's ear, and then pressed a line of soft, openmouthed kisses along the underside of his jaw. Draco made a little mewling noise, bringing a smile to Harry's lips. The raven-haired man pulled away slightly and took Draco's hands in his own. Stepping carefully to avoid tripping on the scattered clothing, Harry moved backward toward the bed, gently pulling Draco with him.

When the back of Harry's knees made contact with the bed, he let go of Draco's hands and sat down. He toed off his shoes and socks as he began to unbutton his robes. After a moment, Draco pushed Harry's hands aside and finished the task of opening the other man's robes. Smiling, Harry stood and shrugged out of the garment, letting the robes pool at his feet so that he was left in only his boxer shorts.

"I don't know if I can," Draco whispered apologetically as Harry took him in his arms again.

Harry ghosted a kiss over one pale brow. "We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with, Draco," he replied softly.

Draco nodded uncertainly and extricated himself from Harry's embrace. Aware of Harry's eyes on him and feeling decidedly clumsy, Draco climbed onto the bed. He sat cross-legged square in the middle of the bed, looking querulously at Harry.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sitting next Draco on the bed.

"How are we going to manage this?" Draco asked, not meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry considered for a moment. What he wanted wasn't sex. What he wanted, what he needed, was to make Draco feel wanted. He gathered up Draco's many pillows and arranged them at the head of the bed.

"Lie back," he commanded gently.

Draco did as he was told, leaning back in a semi-upright position, supported and cushioned by the pillows. His grey eyes watched Harry, not seeming to understand what the other man intended.

Setting his glasses aside, Harry knelt beside Draco. He leaned forward, bracing himself against the headboard with one hand, and let his lips and tongue resume their explorations of Draco's ear, jaw, and throat.

Encouraged by Draco's soft whimpers of pleasure, Harry slid his free hand across the man's pale chest to tease gently at one nipple. Draco moaned and threw his head back, not seeming to care that he knocked it rather hard against he headboard of the bed. Gripping the headboard more tightly to ground his own arousal, Harry dipped his head and took Draco's other nipple in his mouth. The blond gave another loud moan and tried to arch up off the bed, impeded by the limitations of his vastly changed body.

Harry continued to kiss, and lick, and suck, and touch. A scratch of his nails over the soft, sensitive inside of Draco's thigh. A trail of kisses over his rounded belly. His thumbs tracing teasing circles on Draco's hipbones.

When at last he felt that Draco had been pressed to the edges of his endurance, Harry gently worked the blond's shorts down over his hips and slid them off. Carefully positioning himself between Draco's legs, Harry lowered his head again and ran the flat of his tongue up the length of Draco's cock. Draco cried out and tangled his hands in Harry's hair. The angle was a little awkward due to Draco's pregnancy, but Harry was undeterred. He ran the flat of his tongue up Draco's shaft a few more times, and then pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the tie lee let his tongue snake out from between his lips to tease the opening, and then he slid just the weeping head into his mouth. Draco let out a strangled cry and tightened his grip on Harry's hair. Ignoring the pain, Harry let Draco's cock slip out of his mouth with a little `pop', causing Draco to moan at the loss of sensation.

Trying to forget his own arousal, Harry teased Draco's cock with his warm breath. Again, he took in only the head, and again he let it slip out. The noises Draco made began to sound more frustrated, and Harry decided to have mercy on his lover. This time when he took Draco into his mouth, he relaxed his throat and took him completely. Draco let out a yelp and pulled on Harry's hard enough to bring tears to the emerald eyes.

Harry began to suck in earnest, moving his mouth up and down Draco's shaft, swirling his tongue over the tip. Draco writhed beneath Harry and tugged at his hair. Harry paused, earning a frustrated moan from the blond, and slid two of his own fingers into his mouth. Draco's eyes went wide.

"Oh, please, yes" he whimpered.

Harry complied. Taking Draco's cock into his mouth again, though not quite as deeply this time, he began to tease Draco's entrance with his wet fingers. Gently, he slipped one inside, thrusting in time with the movements of his mouth.

"More," Draco whined.

Sliding both wet fingers in, Harry continued matching the rhythm of his fingers to that of his mouth. Then he rubbed his fingers over Draco's prostate, and the blond's hips jerked, nearly gagging Harry. More cautiously, Harry repeated the procedure, with more pleasant results. The third time Harry's fingers passed over the sensitive gland, Draco jerked at Harry's hair again and came down his throat. Harry held Draco in his mouth until his tremors subsided, and then moved to curl against the blond in the nest of pillows.

When Draco finally came down from the euphoria of orgasm, he turned his head weakly to look into Harry's eyes. Harry simply smiled. Confused, but not unhappy with the unexpected turn of events, Draco returned the smile, a bit uncertainly. After a moment, he sat up and tugged some of the pillows from behind his back. He stretched out on his side with his back to Harry and tucked one of the pillows under his belly to support it. Harry curled up around Draco and wrapped his arm around the other man's chest, pressing their bodies tightly together.

At the feeling of Harry's silk-covered erection pressing against his bottom, Draco sat halfway up and turned to face the other man. Before he could think who sao say, Harry spoke.

"I'm fine," Harry assured him. "Lie back down."

Draco did as he was told, pressing back into the comforting warmth of Harry's body. After some minutes, he guided Harry's hand down to his abdomen again, where Harry could feel his daughter moving about. Harry kissed the back of Draco's slightly sweaty neck and snuggled a little closer.

"So much for our shopping trip," Draco said. Harry couldn't see his lover's smile, but he could hear it in his voice.

"It's early yet," Harry pointed out. "We've still time."

"I think we've already waited too late," Draco said with a sigh. "None of my robes fit me anymore."

"That explains why you've taken to wandering around in your pyjamas and such. Explains the mess in here, too," Harry said good-naturedly. "You've honestly nothing that fits?"

"Men's robes were not designed with pregnancy in mind," Draco noted. "I've used charms to alter them, but there is only so much I can do."

Harry lay quietly for a time, thinking and pressing kisses to Draco's shoulder. "I'll see if I can bring someone here to fit you for robes," he said at last.

Overwhelmed by the simple kindness, Draco turned in Harry's arms and clung to him. He pressed his face against Harry's neck, and after a moment, Harry could feel the wetness of tears there. He tightened his arms around the other man. Later, Draco would blame the reaction on the pregnancy hormones, and Harry would let him.

*

Once Harry explained the peculiar situation, one of the young witches who worked at Gladrags was more than happy to trot over to Harry's cottage to measure Draco for his new wardrobe. She came armed with stylebooks, magazines, fabric swatches, and colour charts. Draco shut himself up with her in his bedroom for a few hours, and Harry couldn't help wondering how much of his money Draco would end up spending. To his surprise, he found that he really didn't care about the money.

The next afternoon, a sizable parcel arrived from the clothier's along with a statement telling how much had been charged to his account. The price tag wasn't small, but it was much less than Harry had been expecting. Eager to see what his money had purchased, Harry carted the parcel up to Draco's room. For once, he actually knocked on the other man's door before barging inside.

Draco opened the door almost immediately. He looked tired, as he often did now that he had reached the latter stages of his pregnancy. His face lit up at the sight of the package from Gladrags. "It will be so good to have clothes that fit," he said.

"Where do you want it?" Harry asked, looking around for a likely spot.

"By the vanity, I suppose, so that I can sit down to open it," Draco replied, lumbering over to sit on the vanity's bench.

Harry placed the box on the floor near the vanity as instructed, glancing skeptically from Draco, to the box, and back again. "Would you like a hand with this?" he asked.

Draco flashed Harry a small, disarming sm "Wo "Would you mind terribly?" he asked by way of response.

Returning the smile, Harry cast a spell to break the seal on the package and carefully lifted the lid. Smoothing back the tissue that was woven in and around the garments, Harry withdrew the first item and held it up for Draco's inspection, the fabric soft and cool in his hands. To his surprise the item was a simple robe for everyday wear. Draco looked over the soft, deep green robe and nodded his satisfaction.

Harry repeated the process for another everyday robe, two dressing gowns, a nightshirt, and two pairs of pyjamas. All of them met with both men's approval. Harry saved Draco the indignity of making a show of his new underpants, merely setting the garments on the vanity, out of the way. Finally, Harry reached the last carefully wrapped article in the box. It took Harry's breath away. As he stared in awe at the tiny bit of white linen and lace in his hands, he felt tears prick his eyes.

"I thought you'd need something for Caelyn to wear when you bring her home. I hope you don't mind," Draco said quietly.

"Mind?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Why would I mind? It's beautiful, Draco. It's perfect," he added, hugging the baby gown to his chest.

"I'm glad you like it," Draco replied softly. He levered himself up from the bench, wincing and rubbing at his lower back, and began to put away his new clothes. He got only as far as placing his new underpants in a drawer before Harry took over the job for him.

"Why don't you lie down?" Harry suggested as he hung up the last of Draco's robes.

Draco complied without a protest, stripping off his too tight dressing gown before lying down on his side on the bed. A moment later, Harry's hands began to press and knead the aching muscles of his lower back, and Draco bit back a moan. As Harry continued the massage, Draco occasionally winced or jerked beneath his hands.

"Am I helping or making it worse?" Harry asked, letting his hands rest against the smooth skin of Draco's back.

"Helping," Draco murmured.

Harry began the massage anew, working the sore muscles into a more pliable state. After a time, he switched tacks, moving from a deep massage of Draco's lower back to lightly stroking up along the blond's spine and rubbing circles over the plane of his shoulders. When his hands began to tingle painfully from the friction, he stopped altogether, lay down, and wrapped his arm around Draco. He lay for a long time, listening to the sound of Draco's deep, even breathing and feeling the beat of Draco's heart beneath his hand.

Eventually, Harry rose and went down to the library. He carefully collected the myriad owl-order catalogues lying about and carried them to the parlour. Perhaps he couldn't talk Draco into going out shopping for baby items, but he could bring the shopping to Draco. Smiling to himself, Harry settled down in front of the telly to entertain himself until time to prepare dinner.

*

After dinner, Harry asked Draco to join him in the parlour. "There's something I'd like your help with," he added, with a twinkle in his eye.

As soon as Draco settled on the couch, Harry assailed him with his stack of owl-order catalogues.

"You've much better taste than I do," Harry said. "And I thought it would be kind of fun to choose things together."

Draco looked at Harry with a pained expression. "It really isn't my place to decide on such things," he said in a soft, sad voice.

"Do you really think that your opinion doesn't matter to me, Draco?" Harry asked gently. "I told you before that you have a home here as long as you want it. I meant that. You're welcome to stay here and be a part of Caelyn's life."

Draco's jaw tightened, and he batted his lashes, fighting to control his emotions. After a moment, hst nst nodded tersely and reached for one of the catalogues. Harry cautiously edged closer to him so that they could both look at the items displayed, hesitating only slightly before putting his arm around the blond. As they flipped through the vividly coloured catalogue, Draco eventually snuggled into the embrace.

Harry was right; it was enjoyable -for both of them- to choose baby things together. Despite an occasional heated difference of opinion, the two men found themselves enjoying the task of selecting things for their daughter. Draco allowed himself to become truly excited about the prospect of parenthood for the first time now that Harry had made it clear that he would be allowed to help raise his child, and threw himself into the task of preparing for Caelyn's arrival.

Neither man paid any attention to the time, and only when Draco began to yawn and rub at his eyes did Harry call a halt to their planning. He helped Draco up ttairtairs and paused on the landing.

"Would you like to join me?" he asked uncertainly.

"No," Draco replied levelly, watching closely as disappointment flitted across Harry's face. "You're bed is much too high," he added casually. "I could never climb into the thing in my current state, but you're welcome to sleep in my bed."

Harry smiled, relieved. "I'd like that," he replied.

From that night on, Harry slept in Draco's bed, wrapped in his arms.

*

Much of the tension between Harry and Draco had been diffused, and the two men began to gradually get to know one another. For the most part, they tried to stick to safe topics such as music and literature, but as the days passed, they began to open up to each other little by little. Draco told Harry about some of the horrible jobs he had worked in order to buy food. Harry told Draco about some of the friends he had lost to the war. By the time that Draco entered his seventh month of pregnancy, the two men had become good friends.

Together the two men transformed the bedroom next to Harry's into a nursery. Draco had seemed ready to argue the location until Harry had wrapped him in his arms and assured him that they would be sharing the bedroom as soon as Draco was once again able to climb into the oversized bed.

One night, as they lay curled up together, Draco turned to face Harry, his expression serious.

"I'm not in love with you," he said matter-of-factly.

Harry blinked up at him, feeling disappointment and hurt flash through him like a jolt of electricity. He lay quietly for a moment before responding. "I'm not in love with you, either," he said truthfully. "Does it matter?"

Draco lay for a while, looking into Harry's eyes and turning the question over in his head. "No," he said at last, "I don't think it matters at all."

"I don't, either," Harry agreed. "We get on all right, now. I think that's more important."

"Probably better this way," Draco noted, rolling over and pressing back against Harry, fitting their bodies together. "If I were in love with you, I'd likely be willing to go through this whole pregnancy thing again."

Harry laughed softly, his warm breath stirring the hairs on the back of Draco's neck. "I promise you that if I have the urge for more children, I'll adopt. Pregnancy makes you far too cranky," he teased.

*

One night, a little more than halfway through Draco's seventh month, Harry awoke unexpectedly. At first, Harry was uncertain what had awakened him. Draco wasn't in the bed beside him, but he supposed that the blond was on one of his many nighttime excursions to the loo. He curled on his side and tried to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, a soft cry from the hallway jerked Harry out of a doze, and he realised that the wounded sound was what had awakened him before. Snatching up his glasses from the bedside table, he hurried out into the hall to check on Draco.

The blond stood bracing himself against the wall with one hand. The other arm was wrapped protectively around his stomach. One glance told Harry that Draco was in excruciating pain.

"Draco? What's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice as he wrapped an arm around Draco's waist to help support him.

"I don't know," Draco replied, his voice rising hysterically. "The baby," he gasped. "This isn't supposed to happen!"

"I'll put a call in to Healer Blevins," Harry said, willing his voice to remain calm. "Let's get you back to bed."

"He's away. Don't you remember?" Draco wailed.

"I had forgotten," Harry said. He felt panic rising in his chest. He had no way of contacting another Healer in the dead of night, and there was no way to get Draco safely to a hospital. Harry had no idea what to do.

Draco cried out as another sharp pain ripped through him, clutching at Harry as his knees buckled. Harry's mind turned to the one place it always returned to in times of trouble, and he knew that Draco and the baby had one chance at survival.

"Hold on, love," he murmured soothingly. "We're going to get you some help, but first you've got to help me. I need you to wait here, just f mom moment, all right? I have to get my wand."

Draco obediently leaned against the wall again, freeing Harry to dash back into the bedroom. He jerked on a set of robe, stepped into his battered trainers, and snatched up his wand, arriving back at Draco's side just in time to hold thond ond upright as another wave of pain lanced through him.

He wanted to sweep Draco up into his arms, like a hero in a Muggle movie, but between Draco's current weight and the damage to his own legs, he knew that it would never work. Instead, he had Draco lean against him, supporting most of the blond's weight despite the warning pain in his legs, and gently eased him down the stairs. Once on the ground floor, Harry conjured a stretcher, as he had done countless times du the the war, and carefully maneuvered Draco onto it. As soon as the blond was settled, Harry headed out the door and down the path to Hogwarts, levitating the stretcher before him.

The night was dark and the path uneven. Harry's stumbled many times, but managed to keep upright and moving steadily forward, urging his feet to move faster with each pained cry from Draco. When the cries stopped, Harry began to run, knowing that his legs would soon give way beneath him but feeling the need to hurry. He was determined to crawl to Hogwarts if it meant that Draco would have even the slightest chance of making it through the night alive.

Somehow, Harry's legs carried him to the steps of Hogwarts, though he had to crawl up the steps themselves and drag himself to his feet using the heavy brass knocker on the double doors. Jerking the doors open, he carefully guided the stretcher inside. In the dim lights of the entrance hall, he could see that Draco was still breathing. Tears of relief ran down his cheeks, unnoticed.

With painstakingly slow and frighteningly unsteady steps, Harry began to work his way down the hall toward the infirmary. When his legs gave way and sent him crashing to the stone floor, Harry did something he would never have dreamed of doing in his years as a Hogwarts student: he sucked in a deep breath and bellowed for help.

Almost instantly, the familiar form of Severus Snape rounded the corner in a swirl of black robes, menacing scowl and death glare firmly in place. At the sight that met his eyes, Snape's mask fell and his step faltered. Shocked to speechlessness for perhaps the first time in his life, Snape pulled Harry to his feet and took over control of Draco's stretcher, herding both young men to the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey came to full wakefulness the moment that Snape rapped on her chamber door. As she raced about, caring for Draco behind a wall of thick, white infirmary curtains, Snape lifted Harry as if he weighed no more than a child and laid him on one of the vacant infirmary beds. Harry immediately tried to get up.

"Draco," he whispered as Snape pressed him back down onto the bed.

"You'll serve him best by staying out of Pomfrey's way," Snape snapped. Then the older man went to offer his services to Madame Pomfrey, leaving Harry to wait and worry alone.

"I know very little about male pregnancies," Harry heard Madame Pomfrey say, "but there isn't time to wait around for someone who does. I'll need your help, Severus."

For quite some time, Harry lay there, listening to the conversation between Pomfrey and Snape, which consisted mostly of instruction on Poppy's part and assent on Snape's. At one point Madame Pomfrey said, "Take her, Severus," followed closely by, "Don't be foolish. You aren't going to break her."

A moment later, Harry heard his daughter's first cries. He closed his eyes and whispered a brief prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening. When he opened his eyes again, Snape was standing before him, awkwardly holding a baby wrapped in what appeared to be a transfigured infirmary blanket.

"Am I to assume that this belongs to you?" Snape asked, giving Harry a look that would have made the younger man quake ten years before.

"Yes, Caelyn is my daughter," Harry replied quietly, reaching out for his child.

"Congratulations, then, Mr. Potter. She's perfectly healthy, and I'm certain that as babies go, she is a fine one," Snape replied uncertainly as he gratefully relinquished the infant.

"She's perfect," Harry murmured, as he looked down into her tiny face.

"Severus, we're losing him!" Poppy cried, and Snape disappeared behind the curtain in a flash.

Harry cradled his daughter against his chest, his joy at holding her at last overshadowed by the fear of losing Draco. After what felt like an eternity, Snape and Poppy emerged from behind the curtain. Snape swept out of the infirmary without a word, but Madame Pomfrey gave Harry a reassuring pat.

"He's lost quite a lot of blood, but we've managed to repair the damage and stabilise him. He's very weak, but he'll be all right, Harry," she assured him.

"Thank you," Harry whispered tearfully.

Madame Pomfrey just patted him again.

*

Draco regained consciousness some hours later, his mind hazed from the potions he had been given during the Caesarean section. His hands flew to his stomach, and at finding a flat plane where he knew there should be a decided roundness, tears slipped from his still closed eyes.

"Draco, love," Harry whispered, gently moving the blond's hands away from his belly. "Draco, you don't want to do that. You're still tender. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Caelyn," Draco sobbed.

"Caelyn's beautiful, Draco. And Madame Pomfrey has given her a clean bill of health."

"Too early," Draco whimpered.

"Are you listening to me, Draco Malfoy?" Harry said, his tone gentle. "Our daughter is perfectly healthy, too early or not."

Draco's eyes fluttered open. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

"Of course I'm sure," Harry replied. He slipped an arm behind Draco's shoulders and helped him sit up far enough to drink some water and one of the potion's Poppy had left for him. "Would you like to see her?"

At Draco's weak nod, Harry moved off a short distance to retrieve Caelyn from the bassinet that Professor McGonagall had transfigured out of whoknows -what. He carefully nestled the tiny infant in the crook of Draco's arm.

Draco gazed down at his daughter and felt as if his heart might burst. Nothing had ever touched him the way this little girl did. To say that it was a case of love at first sight wouldn't do Draco's emotions justice; from the first instant that he held her, Caelyn was Draco's very life. Looking up into Harry's eyes, he knew that the other man felt the same way.

After a few min of of watching Draco caress their daughter with his fingertips and eyes, Harry gently moved Caelyn back to her bassinet. "You need to rest," he told Draco. "Rest, and get well," he whispered, brushing his lips against Draco's.

As exhaustion pulled him back into the comforting oblivion of sleep, Draco realised that he and Harry had just shared their first kiss. A feeling of peace settled on his heart, and he drifted off to dream with a smile on his face, knowing that somehow everything would work out better than he had ever dared to hope.