Anything But Ordinary

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1287130.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Rating: NC17, Fanfiction, Mpreg, Infidelity
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2014-03-09 Words: 37,872 Chapters: 1/1
 Anything But Ordinary
by 0idontknow0

Summary

“I got someone pregnant,” he said. “Draco Malfoy to be specific.”

Notes

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and
Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my lovely beta asnq8 who read some of my written-while-falling-asleep things. I

enjoyed writing this, so thanks to the prompter for the prompt, which I admit I got a bit
carried away with. I hope you like it. It’s way longer than I intended but that happens
sometimes. Enjoy. (written for the harrydracompreg fest 2013)
 .:.:.:.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harry said, after Apparating to a cosy old cottage that he and Draco usually
frequented at least once a week. It was probably the least extravagant Malfoy property he had
ever seen. He frowned when he did not see the blond in the parlour. “Draco?”

“In here,” Draco said from the kitchen, sounding rather despondent.

“Didn’t eat today—” Harry began asking. He stopped and stared at the man when he spotted
him. Draco was sitting on the floor with his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles as he
contemplated a bottle of wine, almost as if it held the answers to the world. Harry cocked his
head as he looked at Draco. “You do realise you’re sitting on the floor, right?”

“I do,” Draco said, glancing at him.

It was a lot less of a greeting than he had expected, considering that they had not been able to
meet on Monday, which made it almost two weeks since they had last seen each other here.

“Having nightmares again?” he asked, as he went to sit beside Draco. When the blond was in
a sombre mood, it usually had something to do with old nightmares of the war.

“No,” Draco said, shaking his head and getting up. He turned to set the bottle of wine onto
the counter. He looked at Harry and then went for a wine glass before uncorking the bottle
and pouring.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to have the rest of the bottle for yourself. I end up doing all
the work when you’re drunk,” Harry joked in an attempt to get Draco to lighten up.

Draco gave him a slight smile and shook his head. “I’m not,” he said, handing Harry the glass
of white wine. “Tell me if you like it. It’s new stock.”

“I’m not exactly the best judge when it comes to the quality of wine,” Harry reminded him,
though he took the glass anyway. “I’m better with beer and whiskey.”

“I’ve educated you over the years,” Draco drawled, leaning on the counter and watching him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you afterwards?” he asked, knowing Draco’s
tendency to stall before getting to whatever the issue was.

Draco nodded silently.

“You do realise I come here to have sex with you, right?” he asked, as he took a whiff of the
wine. He could not quite place the aroma but he rather enjoyed it, as he did all the Malfoy
stock. “Not to be your personal wine taster and Mind Healer.”

“And I don’t come here to listen to you complain about the incompetent Aurors the Academy
hands you or your problems with the Weasley Woman,” Draco countered, as Harry took a sip.
“Mmm, touché,” Harry said, smiling at the banter. “And this is... excellent.”

“No other adjectives?” Draco asked, raising a brow at him. Harry shrugged and took another
sip. It reminded him of a wine Draco had made him try a few years ago. “I suppose I can ask
Pansy to try it.”

“Isn’t this normally where you describe all the nuances of the product to me?” he asked,
motioning for Draco to sit beside him.

“I haven’t tasted it,” Draco admitted, grabbing the bottle before sitting beside Harry once
more.

“No? You didn’t catch a cold, did you?” Harry asked. “I’m not kissing you if you did. I’d
rather you not get me ill, again.”

“I’m not ill,” Draco reassured, declining the glass and setting the bottle down. “... Harry...
I’m pregnant.”

Harry laughed. “What? No, really what’s—” he froze as he watched Draco’s face and then
took a deep breath. “You’re serious. That’s your serious face.”

“It’s yours,” Draco added, “If you were wondering.”

Harry stared ahead of himself instead of looking at Draco. He brought the glass to his lips
and downed the contents before pulling his glasses off and running a hand over his face.
Draco refilled the glass for him before he could even ask and he downed that as well.

It was a while before either of them said anything.

“How far along are you and when did you find out?” he finally asked. He sounded a lot more
nervous than he had wanted to let on.

“Monday,” Draco answered. “And I’m a month into the pregnancy.”

“Right, of course. That makes sense,” he muttered, getting up so that he could pace away his
nerves. He had wondered why Draco had cancelled on him but had not thought much about it
since they had their lives and that would have to come first at times. “How the bloody hell
did this even happen, Draco? I thought we didn’t need to worry about—Gin is going to kill
me.”

“I thought so too,” Draco said, thumbing the rim of the bottle.

“We’ve been having sex for years, Draco, and this is the only pregnancy scare we’ve ever
had,” he pointed out. Merlin, why now, when he had a family and a stable life?

“It’s not a scare, Harry,” Draco clarified. “It’s an actuality.”

“Godric, this is... fuck,” he swore. “I still don’t—Why? I thought that since you married
Astoria—...Holy shit...”
“I’ll assume you came to the same conclusion I did,” Draco said quietly, sighing as he set the
bottle down.

The Malfoys had always been about producing an heir and carrying on the bloodline and the
family name. So a number of generations ago when an heir pronounced his inclinations
towards men, and his refusal to bed or even wed a woman, some smart arse relative decided it
would be a brilliant idea to formulate some way to allow the homosexually-inclined heirs of
the line to carry children of their own.

Harry had been more than surprised to learn about the family trait when Draco had told him
but he had known the magic was not impossible. Male pregnancies were few and far between
in the Wizarding world, and fairly heavily documented because of it. Usually the occurrence
had to do with Fae magic or a polyjuice incident gone wrong but, with such detailed
references of the cases, it was plausible that someone could figure it out, especially if they
had been using old magic at the time.

But Draco was bisexual so they had never really had to worry about the spell, or ritual, or
whatever the fuck the man’s ancestor had used to ensure that the line went on. Plus, it did not
extend to their partners, so Harry himself had never had to worry. Not to mention that they
had never been exclusive. Draco had still been dating women when they were younger and
then he had married Astoria; childbearing was always a possibility.

Until the divorce last year, he thought. And as far as I know, Draco hasn’t been seeing
anyone else.

“How are you so calm right now?” he asked, stopping so that he could look at Draco more
easily. Their lives, and their families’, were about to be turned upside down and Draco looked
to be the epitome of calmness.

“I’m not,” Draco said, as he rose from the floor and then took Harry’s wrist.

He looked up at the man when he felt it. “You’re trembling...”

“I’m terrified,” Draco said softly. Harry, of all people, should know how hard it was for
Draco to admit that to anyone.

“This’ll probably ruin my marriage, devastate my children and cause one hell of a Ministry
scandal,” he sighed, tugging at his hair with his free hand.

“I know,” Draco nodded, as he released Harry’s wrist. “And Scorpius and Albus are probably
going to start hating each other because of us.”

“That wouldn’t be surprising. I’ve seen people discontinue friendships for less,” he muttered.

This was going to cause quite a bit of drama in all of their lives.

“What’re you going to do?” Draco asked.

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned.

“Have you listened to the responses you’ve given me so far, Harry?” Draco asked, as he
crossed his arms and leaned on the counter.

“Well, what do you think?” Harry asked.

Draco should know him well enough by now to know that he would not abandon situations
like these, no matter how much he freaked out about it. Draco should know that Harry would
not abandon him.

“This is different, Harry,” Draco said, running a hand through his hair. “You could lose your
wife over this, your children’s trust, custody even.”

“I know, and it’ll be really—really fucking hard,” Harry said. And that doesn’t even cover it
really. “But I’ll be there for you, Draco, completely and utterly terrified alongside you.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked. “Don’t make a decision and then back out. I won’t let you.”

“I’m sure,” he said, as he took Draco’s hand and pulled him in. “Terribly nervous and
definitely worried, but sure.”

Draco snorted and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Most Wizards with your political
standing wouldn’t want anything to do with me right now. You’re still painfully Gryffindor at
38.”

.:.:.:.

Harry heard footsteps coming his way and he turned around see Malfoy. Instinctively he drew
his wand and aimed it at the blond. The war had just ended and most people were either in
the Great Hall or at St. Mungo’s, save for the Slytherins that left the school earlier.

“Relax Potter,” Malfoy said tiredly, as he halted. “I’ve no wand, remember? None of the
Malfoys do.”

“What’re you doing running about the place, Malfoy?” he asked, wand still raised.

“What does it matter?” Malfoy shrugged.

“Malfoy,” Harry said sternly. He was in no mood for games after the day, the year, he had
had.

“... I was... going to the 7th floor,” Malfoy admitted with a defeated sigh.

“What for?” he asked.

“Are you my caretaker, Potter?” Malfoy sneered. The blond flinched when Harry’s grip
tightened on his wand. “...The Room of Requirement, that’s where I was going.”

“It’s destroyed you know—the diadem,” Harry informed him.

Malfoy blinked at him and then laughed without any mirth. “The diadem? You really think I
want to go there for that fucking diadem?” Malfoy asked, spitting his last words. “What am I
going to do with it, Potter? Wear it?”

“You tell me,” Harry replied, even though he doubted Malfoy actually knew it was a horcrux.

Malfoy glowered at him but it paled in comparison to all the others over the years. “Since it’s
apparently your concern, Potter, I’m going to pay my respects to my dolt of a friend who
burned himself alive earlier. Is that all right with you?”

He blinked at Malfoy for a moment and then, with a sigh, lowered his wand. He did not put it
away though. “You don’t need my permission for that, Malfoy,” he said. Somehow he had
managed to forget about the details of the fiendfyre incident earlier, what with everything else
that had happened since. “I just...”

“Can’t forget that I’m a—that I’ve got the Dark Mark,” Malfoy said, his left hand twitching.
Harry thought that a year or two ago, there would have been more pride in those words.

“That’s not it,” he said, tucking his wand away. Malfoy’s eyes widened at that slight show of
trust. “The war just ended, Malfoy. I’m still conditioned to fight.”

“That makes one of us,” Malfoy muttered, as he moved to continue on his way.

“Malfoy,” he called. “Just so you know, I know you didn’t enjoy doing what Voldemort—”
the blond flinched, “—asked of you.”

“You don’t know me to have any idea of what I do or do not enjoy,” Malfoy said, turning to
face him once more.

“I know enough. I saw that you didn’t want to... torture anyone,” he admitted tentatively. “It
would have been a lot easier to leave you in the fiendfyre if I thought you were evil.”

“You saw...” Malfoy said quietly, his voice tremulous.

Harry nodded.

“Brilliant,” Malfoy laughed. “That’ll go over so well with the Wizengamot. Draco Malfoy:
Torturer for the Dark Lord! Fucking brilliant.”

“The fact that you were forced into it counts, you know,” Harry said, as he thought about the
threats to Malfoy’s life, and his family’s as well. “I intend to tell the Ministry that.”

“Hmph, don’t you have your own issues to deal with, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Why are you
wasting your time with mine? You just walked to your death and survived the Killing Curse.
How about you deal with that and let me be?”

“I’m fine,” Harry lied.

“Right,” Malfoy nodded. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“You can’t tell me whether or not I’m fine, Malfoy,” Harry nearly yelled.

“People might worship the ground you walk on, Potter, and think you’re some sort of god,
but don’t forget that you’re just as human as the rest of us, and you’re probably more fucked
up too. So leave my problems alone and go sort your own shit out, instead of pretending to
give a fuck about me.”

.:.:.:.

It had been nearly two weeks since Draco told Harry he was pregnant and somehow he had
not had the balls to tell Ginny about it.

So much for my Gryffindor courage, he thought. I’ve got to tell her today though... I have to...
I should.

Harry stumbled out of the Floo, which was still the worst way of travelling in his good
opinion, and dusted off his robes as he emerged in his living room. He announced his arrival
and headed to his study to put his things down. When he had sorted out his things on his
desk, he went to the bedroom to change.

Ginny was sitting in the bed rifling through sheets of parchment when he stepped inside and
she gave him a quick smile before going back to them.

“How was work?” she asked.

“The usual,” he said, as he began to disrobe. “You?”

“The new recruits seem a bit fickle but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Ginny smirked. After
retiring from professional Quidditch she had taught flying lessons for a while and had then
got offered a job as a trainer for Puddlemere United. “It’s your turn to cook dinner by the
way.”

“I know,” he said, tugging on a shirt. He glanced at her and then sighed quietly. “Ginny...”

“Hmm?” she hummed, looking up from the parchment. “Something wrong?”

“I um... No, it’s nothing,” he lied, losing his wits. “Thought I lost something. I’ll get started
on dinner.”

“All right,” she said, giving him a curious look. “You sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, kissing her on the cheek before heading for the kitchen.

---

When Harry got to the cottage the next day, Saturday, Draco had not arrived. He sat in the
couch and tossed his glasses onto the coffee table so that he could comfortably rest his head
in his hands. He felt like a coward. He knew that he should tell Ginny about Draco and the
baby before the man started showing. It would be a whole other fiasco if she found out from
someone else and, considering his affair with Draco, he owed her some semblance of
honesty.

There was a quiet pop of apparition and Harry looked around to see Draco clutching his
mouth and rushing to the loo. He grabbed his glasses off the table and followed the blond, the
sound of retching coming to him before he caught up.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to pull Draco’s hair back and smooth a hand up his spine. Draco
had let it grow out over the years but kept it right below the shoulders.

Draco gave a few more dry heaves before coughing and spitting into toilet.

“Ugh, my throat,” Draco muttered, as he got up and moved to the sink. Harry stepped out of
the way to let him pass. Draco glanced at him and then sighed. “You still haven’t told her,
have you?”

“No,” he admitted, as he wondered what gave him away. “I will though. I just... I don’t know.
I guess I’m afraid of hurting her.”

“There’s no avoiding that. You need to tell her, Harry,” Draco said, after he finished gargling
some mouthwash. “Whether it’s from you or from someone else, she’ll find out eventually.
I’m going to start showing eventually and I’m not lying to pass this off as some drunken one
night stand that I can’t remember.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that and you know it,” he said.

“Well then fuck, Harry,” Draco snapped. “Tell her already. I’ve put off telling my family
because I know how they’ll react and I’m sure you don’t want your wife finding out through
that sort of debacle.”

“I will,” he promised, “Tonight.”

“You’d better,” Draco said. “My robes will only hide so much for so long. People are going
to notice this eventually Harry, and I’m not at all heavy so people won’t assume I’m fat.” He
touched his stomach at that. “I can just feel myself gaining weight already.”

Harry reached out and pressed his palm to the ever so slight swell. If he did not know Draco
was pregnant, he would have simply passed it off as a bit of bloating.

“Tonight, I promise,” he said, as he stepped closer.

“Salazar, did you eat a banana?” Draco asked, recoiling and rushing to the toilet.

He cast a breath freshening charm on himself before moving to hold Draco’s hair back and
smooth a hand over his back. He reckoned he could add bananas to his new list of things to
avoid.

---
When Harry got home, it was nearly evening and he swore as he remembered that he and
Ginny were supposed to host dinner with Ron and Hermione in about a half hour. He knew
that waiting to tell Ginny after dinner would probably cause less of a commotion but he also
knew that if he waited it out, his courage would likely die down, again.

“Ginny,” he said, as he stepped up to the dining table. She was setting down the plates as she
glanced up at him.

“Harry, cutting it close to dinner,” she teased, as she set down the last plate. “You finally
going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

“That easy to read, am I?” he asked, as he took a seat.

“I’ve been married to you for fifteen years,” she reminded him, as she floated the food,
currently under a stasis charm, over. “I think I can tell when you’re bothered.”

And for most of those years, I’ve been sleeping with Draco... he thought guiltily.

He did not regret it though, not in the sense that he would undo everything that happened.
What he and Draco had seemed to flutter on the edges of love at times, though neither of
them would dare say it. It was probably why they had kept it up for so long, but he was not
going to think about that or try to sort it out just yet. What he regretted was not saying
something to Ginny early on and seeing if she would have understood.

“I guess I should just say it then,” he said, after taking a breath.

“Is everything okay?” she asked concernedly, touching his shoulder and then cupping his
face.

“I’m not really sure how to classify it,” he admitted, pulling the hand from his face. He got
up and motioned for her to sit down.

“Well, this can’t be good,” she said, knitting her brows and taking a seat.

Harry rested his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. This was the moment. He was...
nervous. His palms were sweating and his hands had probably started to tremble and his heart
wanted to beat out of his chest and hide itself away during the confession.

I’m just going to say it. Just say it, Harry. Just say it.

“I got someone pregnant,” he said. “Draco Malfoy, to be specific.”

Ginny blinked and then gaped at him. Her face went through a series of expressions before
settling on fury. Harry waited it out.

“You got Malfoy pregnant?” she asked in angry disbelief.

“Yes,” he nodded.
He considered apologising but a part of him was not sorry for the fact that he was going to
have a child with a man he had already shared so much of his life with, no matter the
circumstance. He was sorry that he hurt her though.

“Malfoy?” she asked.

“... Yes,” he repeated, not quite knowing what else to say.

“How did he even—” she began. “I don’t—”

“It’s not impossible, Gin,” he said. “You know that.”

“You’re married, Harry,” she said, really looking at him now.

“I know,” he said.

“To me,” she stressed, gesturing to herself.

“I know,” he repeated, dragging a hand through his hair. He hated the way she built up before
snapping.

“Do you also know that we have three children together?” she asked.

“Ginny-”

“Answer the question, Harry,” she interrupted.

“...I know,” he said quietly.

“No, you don’t know,” she snapped, rising from the chair and nearly causing it to topple over.
“If you did, you wouldn’t have shoved your cock up Malfoy’s arse!”

He winced at the crudeness but said nothing. It was a bloody good thing the children were in
school right now.

“Was it a one off?” she asked suddenly. Harry tried to answer but shook his head instead.
“How long?”

“... Long enough,” he said, avoiding her glistening eyes.

“How. Long?” she repeated, with a crack in her voice.

“... Before we got married,” he muttered. She sucked in a breath and turned around to pace a
bit before looking at him. He was glad he had decided not to sit for this because he was
feeling pretty jittery himself.

“Before we got married...” she repeated, the tears in her eyes now making their way down her
cheeks.

“Yeah,” he barely whispered. “Mostly...”

“You bastard,” she hissed before snapping. “Our entire marriage! You were fucking him for
our entire marriage... and our engagement too? What the bloody hell am I to you, Harry? A
means to an end? Someone to bear and raise your children while you flounce around with
that blond fucking ferret?”

“No, you’re my wife,” he said, as he rubbed his face in frustration. “I chose to marry you,
didn’t I? And don’t—”

“That doesn’t mean anything if you don’t uphold the marriage, you arse,” she said,
enunciating her every word. Ginny straightened and then looked at him as something seemed
to occur to her. “... Did you fuck him during my pregnancies?”

“Gin,” he sighed. She was not going to like his answers to any questions relating to Draco.

“You could have at least focused on your family then!” she yelled, shoving him hard and
making him stagger backwards. “Couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you? You just had to
go and fuck him.”

“It’s not like that Gin,” he said, as he struggled to stop her from assaulting him without
hurting her. Harry had no idea why he was going to admit this but he did it and it was stupid.
“We aren’t just having sex for the sake of it, okay! I care about Draco! I care about him and I
tried, but I didn’t know how to stop seeing-”

He felt a sharp sting across his face and his glasses went Godric knew where before she
started hitting and shoving at him, swearing all the while. She was far past furious if she had
resorted to physical violence rather than spell casting. It was a good thing though. Ginny’s
hexes were... frighteningly effective.

When Harry finally managed to subdue her, he heard voices yelling their names and arms
were pulling them apart. Ron and Hermione had arrived early, or they had argued for longer
than he had thought.

Shit.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Ron yelled, glancing between the two of them as he
and Hermione distanced them from one another.

“Harry’s been fucking Malfoy is what,” Ginny spat, as she tried to step around Hermione.

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock and Ron looked between the two of them disbelievingly.
Harry sighed and tugged at his hair as he began to pace.

“Not going to admit it, Harry?” Ginny asked coldly.

“Wh—No, Harry wouldn’t—” Ron started.

“It’s true, Ron. And...he’s pregnant,” he said, deciding that he might as well tell all. Better he
get it out there at one time. “Look I know-”
Harry was grateful for a wand and Seeker reflexes just then because otherwise Ron would
have probably pummelled him to death were it not for the Protego he cast. He reckoned he
should pack an overnight bag and head to the cottage at the rate this was going. He had been
optimistically hoping he would simply be banished to the couch or the basement even.

It was silly, he knew.

He had barely moved to summon his bag when Ginny had told him he could not stay in his
own house that night, or any night really. It stung a lot more than the slap to the face, even if
he was expecting it.

.:.:.:.

Harry was not entirely sure why he had decided that going to Malfoy Manor was a better idea
than simply owling the bloke his wand. It probably had to do with the fact that owls flying to
the Manor were more than likely being monitored by the Ministry and he did not want to deal
with officials griping at him about handing a Malfoy a wand while they were on probation, or
how they were known Death Eaters and despite their few good deeds in the war, they could
not be trusted.

He already knew all that, and logically it made sense. He wanted to return it though. It was
not his, not originally at least.

Even if it does work exceptionally well.

While Harry stood outside the Manor gates, debating how to go about returning Malfoy’s
wand, the blond seemed to notice his loitering and was currently making his way down to
him. He reckoned Malfoy would have Apparated had he had his wand. The blond had opted
for a broom since the distance from the door to the gate was ridiculous.

“Is there a reason you’re dawdling outside my front gates, Potter?” Malfoy asked, as he
landed gracefully.

“Hi, Malfoy,” he said, feeling just a bit awkward considering where he was and who he was
visiting. “I um, wanted to return your wand.”

Malfoy seemed a bit taken aback at that and then narrowed his eyes at Harry. He glanced
around and touched the gates before they opened slightly. “Inside,” Malfoy said.

“What?” he asked. All he was doing was returning a wand. He did not need to go—

“I don’t want to do this out here, Potter,” Malfoy said, still taking a few glances behind Harry.
“The war’s only just finished and I’m only so safe while out on the grounds, rather than
inside the Manor.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, still not moving.

Malfoy exhaled slowly. “I’m on probation,” the blond said, “I’m not so stupid as to do
something to you so that they have an excuse to throw me in a cell next to my father for the
next decade. And at any rate, I owe you a number of debts now, don’t I? You need to be alive
for me to repay them.”

The man did not sound too pleased about owing him anything, but Harry reckoned Malfoy
would rather not piss him off and cause him to call on those debts with ridiculous requests, so
he nodded and stepped warily inside. The walk up to the front entrance was a painfully
awkward one. It seemed that neither he nor Malfoy had thought it a possibility that the blond
could fly the both of them there far more quickly, or they did not want to risk increasing an
already awkward situation. Sharing a broom in a life or death situation and sharing a broom
because they were lazy were two very different things.

They cast a few sidelong glances at one another as they walked and Harry let his eyes roam
the grounds. A white peacock that was strutting across the lawn paused to cock its head at
him before continuing on. Harry watched it, its long tail flowing smoothly behind it. It was a
bit pretentious to have them on the grounds but it was beautiful as well. It was better than
during the war when the grounds looked utterly foreboding.

When he finally looked away from the bird, he found Malfoy giving him an odd look.

After they got inside the Manor, Malfoy dismissed the house-elf that popped up at their
arrival and led Harry to an anteroom so they could speak privately. The Manor was as grand
as ever and cleaner than Harry had seen it during the war. It was also more welcoming and
seemed to be in the process of being renovated. The fact that everything looked different
helped him to shove aside the memories of Hermione screaming under Bellatrix’s wand.

For a moment, neither of them said anything and Harry could not decide if he should sit or
stand or simply hand the wand over to Malfoy. He wondered vaguely if he should have
placed it in a box or something of the sort instead of walking around with it in his pocket.

“What are you playing at, Potter?” Malfoy asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“Nothing,” he said. He had the sense to pull Malfoy’s wand out and held it out for him. “It’s
your wand, you should have it.”

“Do you still use it?” Malfoy asked, as he stared at it.

“I guess, on occasion. If it’s nearer than mine,” he shrugged. “Or if I take it up by accident
before I leave the house. I don’t need it though. It’s yours.”

Malfoy reached for the wand hesitantly. Harry let his hand fall away once Malfoy had it and
was not quite sure what to do now that he had accomplished what he came to do. A fond
smile formed on the blond’s face and Malfoy mumbled a Lumos before his wand tip
glimmered. He glanced at Harry and muttered Nox.

“Here,” Malfoy said stiffly, as he held the wand out.

“What?” Harry asked in confusion. “Malfoy—”

“Take it, Potter,” Malfoy said.

“You... don’t want it?” he asked. He was not quite sure what was going on at the moment but
Malfoy had to be up to something... Right?

“Whether I want it or not is irrelevant,” Malfoy said. He shoved the wand in Harry’s direction
and Harry instinctively reached for his own. “I’m not going to hex you, Potter! I’m not a
fool!”

“I don’t get why you’re doing this,” he said.

“You don’t get it?” Malfoy chuckled darkly. “Potter, what was it that you had said at the final
battle? You said that his wand was truly yours because I had overpowered Dumbledore, then
you had overpowered me and won the allegiance of my wand and, as a result, his as well.
Some convoluted tripe like that.”

“Yes, so?” he asked, still not understanding what Malfoy was getting at.

“Potter, my wand remembers me and it will work for me but it’s not the same,” Malfoy said.
“It doesn’t feel... It’s—”

“It’s mine... now,” Harry finished quietly. He sighed and took the wand from Malfoy. Harry
felt as if he had probably rubbed salt into one of Malfoy’s wounds. “Malfoy, I... I’m... sorry.”

Merlin, but that was too difficult to say.

Malfoy nodded and sat on the sofa.

“I should probably leave then,” he said, seeing as there was no reason for him to be there and
he had no intention of attempting to console Malfoy. Harry would not even know where to
begin if he tried.

“I’d offer use of my fireplace but seeing as Mother and I are under house arrest, it’s only
useful for calls,” Malfoy muttered.

“I’ll show myself out,” Harry said, heading for the door.

“Potter,” Malfoy called. “Th... I ...appreciate the effort. For this and what you said at the
trials.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said dumbly.

“... The fire as well.”

“Yeah,” he nodded and left.

Harry reckoned that was the closest to saying ‘thank you’ that Malfoy could have got. It was
a hell of a lot closer than he had expected though.

.:.:.:.

“So, this is where you’re hiding,” Draco said.

Harry rolled over and opened his eyes to see Draco walking over to the bed. “Hey,” he
yawned, hoping he did not smell too much like alcohol. He had needed a drink after his row
with Ginny, a number of drinks actually.

“Grimmauld too depressing for you?” Draco asked.

“That and everyone I actually speak to has access to it,” he said, stretching.

“I take it you’ve told the wife, then,” Draco said, sitting down. “My parents went to harangue
you at your house but you weren’t there.”

“So, I take it that you’ve told them too,” Harry said.

“I did,” Draco nodded, as he climbed under the covers. “Since you were so convinced you
would tell her, I opted to trust your inherent Gryffindor qualities.”

Harry shifted to accommodate him. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“Clearly better than you telling the Weasley woman,” Draco said, as they lay facing one
another. The blond wrinkled his nose and cast a breath freshening charm on him. “No more
whiskey around me.”

“Ron and Hermione came over in the middle of it,” he said, with a nod. Clearly that would
have had to happen to him, considering the way his life normally went.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Draco commented.

“You’re oh so comforting,” Harry said, rolling his eyes and turning on his back.

“I don’t know what else to say, Harry,” Draco shrugged. “Granger might come around but
that’s Weasley’s sister you’re married to so I’m not exactly hopeful.”

“Neither am I, to be honest,” he admitted, dragging a hand over his face. “This is probably
why you don’t marry your best friend’s sister.”

“And why your best friends shouldn’t marry each other,” Draco added. “It’s awkward for
everyone when things fuck up.”

“I told her we weren’t just having sex...” he said quietly, suddenly.

Draco propped himself up to look at Harry. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Harry looked at Draco and touched his cheek. “I told her I care about you and that we haven’t
been doing this just for the sake of having sex,” he said. Draco stared at him without saying
anything. “Or at least I haven’t.”

“You do realise that probably did more damage to your marriage than this entire situation?”
Draco asked, pulling the hand away but not letting it go. “Believe it or not, there’s hope for
some marriages after an affair.”
“She knows how long we’ve been seeing each other too,” Harry informed him, not missing
the fact that Draco had not confirmed or denied his own feelings about the affair.

“You’re so stupid sometimes,” Draco muttered, shaking his head. “No sense of self
preservation.”

“I know,” Harry chuckled darkly. “That’s one of your traits. Anyway, I figured I might as
well tell the whole truth.”

“You’ll be lucky if she takes you back,” Draco said, settling himself against Harry’s side.

“I know,” he sighed, not completely sure if he wanted to stay married to Ginny knowing that
he would definitely have to give Draco up, in a sexual capacity at least, but he also did not
want to lose her. “You’re lucky you’re already divorced. This is... I’ve got all sorts of
conflicting feelings.”

“Yes, well,” Draco began, “my marriage was deteriorating and we were sensible enough to
get out of it before we started hating one another.”

“We need to tell the children about this...” Harry remembered. He groaned and turned into
Draco’s hold. “I should talk to Ginny about that, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” Draco nodded. “But I don’t see it going well no matter how you tell it to the
children. It’ll probably be best if I’m not with you though. They might think I’m stealing you
away from the wife.”

“You can’t do that when I belonged to both of you to begin with,” Harry muttered into
Draco’s neck. “Even if she didn’t know it at the time.”

“Hmph, no one else is going to see it that way, Harry. Least of all the children,” Draco said.
“Get some rest. It’s still night out.”

“What are you doing here then?” he asked.

“I had a bit of throwing up to do... It’s also possible that I’m a bit nervous about speaking
with Scorpius tomorrow,” Draco admitted. “So, I decided to check if you were here, see how
you were doing. Now go to bed. I’m tired.”

“Draco Malfoy, were you worried about me?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Draco muttered, smiling.

Harry chuckled and went back to sleep in a better mood, despite his troubles.

---

In the morning Harry decided to go to Ginny and talk about how they would break the news
to the children. He knew it was still fairly soon to approach her but he was resolved to telling
the children about the pregnancy as soon as possible. He was more opposed to them finding
out via external sources than he was Ginny. Plus, he wanted to reassure them that it had
nothing to do with them, that they were not at fault and that he would love them regardless of
a new child. He knew they sometimes blamed themselves for things unrelated to them and he
wanted to avoid that as much as possible.

Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before knocking on his own front door.

“Ron, I swear if you don’t stop—” Ginny froze when she saw Harry and promptly began to
shut the door.

He stuck his foot out and braced it with his hands. “Ginny, I just want to talk,” he said. “I
know it’s a bit soon—”

“Then go the bloody hell away,” she snapped, still pushing the door.

“Look, I’m going to tell the children what’s happened and I reckoned I should tell you about
it,” he said quickly. The door flew open and his wife glared at him with an intensity that
made him wince.

“You’re going to what?” she asked.

“They’re going to find out eventually, Gin,” he said, not daring to try to step inside. He did
not want to push his limits with her. “It’s best they hear it from us.”

“... When were you planning on—?”

“Today,” he interrupted. “They don’t have class and waiting until Easter hols is a bit long.
Besides, do you really want them to come home wondering why I’m not here?”

“... I’m coming with you,” she declared. Harry blinked at her and tried to speak but could not.
“I don’t want you telling them any rubbish so, I’m coming with you.”

“Gin, if you come with me then we need to agree to be civil towards one another,” he said.
He had not expected her to want to follow him to Hogwarts, and after last night, he had not
expected her to want to follow him anywhere.

“I can be civil, Harry,” she said, turning to go into the house. “I’m not the one doing
whatever it is my genitalia wants me to.”

“I don’t think this is considered being civil, Gin,” he muttered, stepping inside.

“Don’t,” she said firmly. “Wait outside.”

Harry ignored the way that pierced him and sat on the porch until Ginny got dressed. He
hoped to Merlin that he and Draco did not end up at Hogwarts at the same time and thought
that perhaps he and Ginny should take the children down to Hogsmeade just in case.

And into one of the rooms at The Three Broomsticks for good measure.

---
When they got to Hogwarts, Minerva sent for the children and watched them a bit too closely
as they waited. Harry was not her student any longer but he could bloody well feel that way
when he was near her at times, right now for instance. He really did not like the way she
seemed to know that he had done something wrong.

Once the children arrived at the office, they Flooed to The Three Broomsticks and Harry paid
for a room before they all went upstairs, Ginny ignoring him so steadfastly that none of the
children said a word after their initial greetings.

“What’s going on?” Lily asked, once they had sat down. “Why’s Mum upset?”

“Lily,” Albus hissed quietly.

“Your father has something he wants to tell you,” Ginny said, taking a seat beside the
children and letting Harry know that while she was going to be civil, she in no way had his
back.

“Did something happen?” James asked.

“Listen, children,” he began, as he pulled a chair out to sit in front of them. “Before I tell you
what’s happened, I want you to know that it’s in no way your fault and—”

“This sounds like it’s going to be terrible,” Albus groaned.

“Just say it, Dad,” James said, shifting in his seat.

“It’ll be like ripping off a band-aid,” Lily nodded.

Harry wanted to smile at the way Lily was trying to help him along but he knew that could be
misread after he had let the news out.

“I’ve been... seeing, Mr. Malfoy,” he began. He decided last minute that using Draco’s first
name might seem too personal to the children, especially since Harry had only ever called
him Malfoy in front of them. “And—Let me finish, James. And we’re having a baby. He’s
pregnan—”

“You buggered my best friend’s father...” Albus said incredulously. “And you got him—”

“Albus,” Ginny admonished.

“How could you?” James asked angrily. “What about Mum? What about us?”

“Look, this doesn’t change how I feel about any of—”

“You’re having a baby with someone else, Dad,” Albus said, as if that meant Harry could not
love two sets of children.

“Albus, that doesn’t mean that I don’t—”

“Are you two getting a divorce?” James asked, as he glanced between them, a scowl on his
face.

“What?” Lily squeaked. “Mum?”

“James, calm down and listen to me, would you?” Harry asked.

“Well?” James pressed.

“We haven’t discussed it,” Ginny said. “But he probably won’t be at the house come Easter.”

“You can’t even look at him, can you?” James asked.

“James,” Ginny began.

“Where’s Dad going to live?” Lily asked.

Albus turned to Harry at Lily’s question. “You aren’t living at the Manor with Mr. Malfoy,
are you?”

“I’m not living at the Manor, no,” he said. It had only been one night since Harry had told
Ginny and honestly he did not know if he and Draco were actually living together. The
cottage just happened to be the most convenient place to go to at the time and Draco had just
happened to stop over.

“I want to go back to school,” James said, standing and heading for the door.

“James, wait,” Harry started.

“You wanted to tell us about your new family, right?” the fourteen year-old snapped. “Well,
you have. You can go back to ruining ours now.”

“James,” Harry called, as he got up. “I never meant to—”

“Dad,” Albus said quietly. “You’ll just get him upset. I’ll—I’ll go look for him.”

“Come on, Lily,” Ginny said, getting up as well. “Let’s help Al find your brother.”

“Wait, I want to talk to Dad,” Lily said, frowning at him.

“Lil—”

“Its fine, Gin,” Harry said. He was happy that at least one of his children was willing to talk
to him, or look at him even. Al had all but kept his eyes on the floorboards just now. “I’ll
bring her back to school.”

Ginny gave him a long stare before bending to kiss Lily’s forehead and heading out after their
sons.

“Should I sit down for a scolding?” he asked. Lily shook her head and gave him a rather poor
excuse for a comforting smile. “All right then.”
“You don’t hate Mum, do you?” she asked, getting straight to the point and shocking him for
a moment. He probably should have sat back down.

“No, I don’t,” he answered.

“You just don’t love her,” Lily said.

“I still love your Mum, Lils,” he said, as he knelt in front of her. This was going to be a hard
one to explain. “It’s... complicated.” And damn if that was not a cliché line.

“You just... love Mr. Malfoy too?” she asked confusedly.

For a while, Harry struggled with an answer. “... I... maybe,” he said, looking at her
apologetically. “I um, I don’t know, Lils.”

“And you still love us... Me, Jamie and Al?” she asked sheepishly. “Right?”

Harry smiled at her and took her hands. “I don’t even have to think about that one,” he said.
“I’m always going to love you three, even if you don’t quite like me after all this.”

“And what about the baby?” she asked, staring down at her feet.

“I’ll love the baby too, just as much as I love you three,” he said. “Not more, not less.”

“... I think that’s it, for now,” Lily announced, after worrying her lip for a while.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Could I get a hug?”

Lily obliged him and he gladly wrapped his arms around her. “And Dad,” she said. “I don’t
hate you or anything. I’m just upset at you.”

“Understandable,” he said. He reckoned Lily had been spending far too much time with
Hermione if she was being this reasonable, but he did not mind it. “Now, how about we take
you back to school?”

“Can we walk?” she asked.

“Anything you want,” he agreed.

.:.:.:.

With a sigh, Harry downed the rest of his firewhiskey. It was a year after the war, give or take
a few days, and he was supposed to be getting his life together, except it just was not
happening. He knew things would not magically get better, but he wanted them to.

Once he had stopped having major obligations to fulfil, he began to lose his way. He did not
have as many things to do that would burn him out so that he was too tired to have
nightmares, or have so much to do that he was kept distracted from his memories, his
emotions and the deceptions he had learned about.
He had the rest of spring and all of summer to get his act together before Auror Academy
started. On his list of things to fix were his ever so slight drinking problem (which was
actually slight—that was not part of his imagination), the nightmares that resulted in his lack
of sleep (Dreamless was not really working anymore), the relationship with Andromeda and
Teddy that he had practically ignored because all he could think about around them was
Remus and Tonks , if she would let him, his brooding over the way Dumbledore had used
him and his brooding over never realizing Snape had been protecting him most his life (and
had been in love with his mother).

“Aberforth,” Harry groaned, as he rested his head on the bar. “Why couldn’t anyone leave me
instructions for what to do after I fulfilled the prophecy?”

“Maybe now you’re supposed to live your life the way you want to,” Aberforth said wisely,
as he took the tumbler from Harry. “There are things you’ve always wanted to do, right? You
can do them now.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an Auror,” Harry mumbled. “I’m going to do that. Always wanted
a family too, wife, children, crup and a house—one with a lawn, a lawn that would put shame
to Vernon’s lawn for years to come.”

“You aren’t exactly sounding 18, boy,” Aberforth pointed out.

“Am I sounding 19?” he asked. “I’m almost 19.”

“Around 25, maybe 30 even,” Aberforth said.

Harry snorted. “I want to be normal, Aberforth,” he said. “That’s what I want. Ordinary.”

“If normalcy existed, I don’t think being friends with a Dumbledore would fit the criteria,”
Aberforth said. “And you, my boy, will never be ordinary.”

“It exists,” Harry frowned. “Normal exists.”

Aberforth looked at him and shook his head in amusement. Harry was going to ask him what
was so funny when the door creaked open. There was never much traffic at the dingy old bar
so Harry turned around to see who had walked in. He was met with the roll of grey eyes and
the glare that quickly followed.

“Malfoy,” he nodded. He was about to hold his glass up in greeting before he remembered
that Aberforth had taken it.

“Potter,” the blond deadpanned. “Trust you to be in the single establishment I might actually
get service in.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you from getting sloshed,” he said. “You’re off probation now,
right?”

“Seeing as I’m not at the Manor, yes, Potter,” Malfoy answered with a drawl, finally walking
up to the bar. “A tumbler of Phoenix vodka.”
“How’s that going?” he asked. “Life outside the Manor. Have you and your Mum gone and
bought wands yet? Ollivander’s closing up shop this summer, going into retirement and all
that.”

Malfoy seemed to have a constant crease in his brow and it had only gotten deeper the more
Harry had spoken. Aberforth gave the blond his drink and Malfoy muttered his thanks before
replying to him.

“Are you so pissed that you’re actually attempting a conversation with me?” Malfoy asked,
before sipping his drink and grimacing at the burn. It was called Phoenix vodka for a reason
and Harry avoided the stuff because of it.

“I’m not pissed, Malfoy,” he said, deciding to clear the air on that. “If I was pissed, I’d be
slurring, and that is a fact. Am I slurring, Malfoy?”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him and then shook his head. “No, not yet you aren’t,” Malfoy
said, taking a seat. “And to answer your question, we did.”

“We did what?” he asked.

“Get wands,” Malfoy said. “Mother and I got wands.”

“Oh, good, good,” he nodded. “Because a wizard without a wand is like... is like...”

“Go on,” Malfoy said, gesturing at him to continue. “Don’t try too hard though.”

“A... a torch with no batteries,” he said. When the man quirked a brow at him and Aberforth
snorted, he decided to try again, because those were Muggle things so no one would
understand him. “A telly without electricity... a writer with no pen, I mean quill. A writer
with no quill... or parchment, either can work—A writer with ink but no quill!”

“Easy there, Harry,” Aberforth said.

“Don’t you get it?” he asked. “The wizard has magic but no wand to be able to use his magic
and the writer has ink and no p—quill to write his words with. You can write on practically
anything so you don’t actually need parchment.”

“That was absolutely brilliant,” Malfoy drawled.

“See Aberforth, Malfoy appreciates—” he paused and looked over at Malfoy. “That was
sarcasm.”

“Spot on,” Malfoy nodded, before taking another sip of his drink. He really was nursing it. “I
should give you a knut for that feat.”

“A bit more intonation would have helped,” he grumbled.

Malfoy shrugged and leaned forwards on the bar. The snobbish blond looked out of place at
the Hog’s Head, too pristine in the grimy pub. Malfoy did not seem fazed by how badly
Aberforth kept the place though, at least not outwardly.
“Hey, Malfoy,” he said.

“Potter,” Malfoy muttered.

“You were right, you know,” he said, tracing a groove in the surface of the bar.

“About what?” Malfoy asked in confusion.

“What you said last year after the... you know,” he gestured vaguely, not wanting to directly
bring up the war with Malfoy, “about how I needed to sort my shit out.”

The man sighed and downed the rest of his drink with a grimace and a cough before
gesturing at Aberforth for another.

“Whoa,” Harry chuckled. “Don’t drown yourself.”

“If we’re going to have a legitimate conversation, then I need more alcohol in my blood,”
Malfoy announced.

.:.:.:.

Harry was at the office when it happened. One minute he was reprimanding an Auror for
excessive violence and the next he was trying not to drown in owls or go deaf from howlers
screaming at him about sullying himself with a Death Eater and cheating on his beloved wife
and ‘what about the children’. He vanished all the howlers and cast a spell that would
organise his letters by known and unknown senders. The latter would be disposed of.

When the Daily Prophet got dumped onto his desk, with a headline he had hoped he would
not see for at least a week after confessing to Ginny and the children, he groaned. “Head
Auror Potter Gets Malfoy Up the Duff! One Night Stand or Affair Gone Awry?”

“They could have at least found a better title,” he grumbled, before tossing the paper into the
bin.

“So it’s true then?” Auror McAllister asked. “Malfoy’s up the duff?”

“The term is pregnant, Auror McAllister,” Harry corrected. “And our meeting is over.”

He had apparently taken on the tone that made his Aurors squirm because McAllister
practically bolted out of his office. Harry sighed and sat back in his chair. He hated dealing
with the press and this time he reckoned it was unavoidable since the Ministry would need
him to make a statement of some sort.

Harry got up and went to the break room to get himself a cup of tea and dutifully ignored the
stares he received, glaring something awful at anyone who looked about to approached him.
He stopped at the door when he arrived at his destination. It was just his luck that Ron
happened to be fetching something to drink as well. He gave the man an awkward smile as he
went to get his tea and the other employees in the room quickly made their way out. That was
how bad the atmosphere was.
“Why?” Ron asked, once they were alone and he had put up a privacy charm.

With a sigh, Harry set his cup down and turned to Ron. “Why’d I shag Malfoy?” he asked.

“What else would I be asking you, Harry?” Ron snapped.

“How much has Ginny told you?” he asked. He doubted Ron would have chosen that
particular question if he knew the extent of the affair.

“That you cheated on her and that Malfoy’s pregnant,” Ron said angrily. “What else is there
to tell? She’s your wife, Harry, how could you do that? And she’s not just your wife, she’s my
sister.”

“I know,” he sighed, feeling as if this would be a repeat of his conversation with Ginny.
“Look, Ron, Draco and I—”

“First name basis. Lovely,” Ron muttered.

“Are you going to let me speak?” he asked. When Ron huffed and nodded at him he
continued. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while, a long while. If I’m completely honest
we started this... relationship, before Ginny and I even got married. We just didn’t think we’d
continue it after the wedding, after both our weddings.”

“You could have stopped,” Ron said. “Or you could have told Ginny you didn’t love her
before you went and married her.”

“It’s not as if I didn’t try to stop. And I do love her, Ron. I just... I care about Draco,” he
admitted.

“Do you even remember who you’re talking about?” Ron asked loudly.

“I do,” he said. “Ron—”

“You know, if it had been any other bloke, I don’t think it’d sting this bloody much,” Ron
said. “But it’s Malfoy, Harry. Malfoy. The bloke you stalked all through our sixth year and
wouldn’t stop talking about. I’d always wondered why Malfoy chose not to identify you at
the Manor and, Godric, it makes sense now. And why you turned back into the Fiendfyre to
rescue him.”

“There was nothing going on between us then,” he said. “We were in the middle of a war, do
you really think either of us wanted anything to do with one another then? We weren’t
exactly on the best of terms, you know that.”

“No, I don’t know, Harry,” Ron snapped, surging forwards. Harry purposefully did not move.
“I don’t know you anymore. I thought I did. I thought you loved and respected Ginny, I
thought you respected your family and your children, my family.”

“I do, and you know I do. I think of you all as family—”

“No, you don’t, or you would never have done this,” Ron said, before storming for the door.
“And don’t bother coming to dinner at the Burrow next week, Harry. I doubt anyone wants to
see you.”

When the door slammed shut behind Ron Harry felt himself start. He leaned on the table and
closed his eyes as he tried to gain control of his breathing. He was not going to cry at the
office. He could do that when he was at the cottage.

Harry had had some of the most taxing conversations of his life in the past few weeks, and
they were probably going to continue that way. He could not let all of them get to him.

This one really fucking hurt though.

---

Harry sighed and collapsed onto the sofa the second he Apparated ho—to the cottage. He had
managed with using silent glares and many a diversion for the rest of the day but he would
need to address the issue soon enough. He was going to get tired of the questions fairly
quickly and he would not be able to get any work done if this kept up.

If any of his friends were talking to him right now, he would have gladly gone to seek
comfort but as it stood, Draco was really the only person for him to go to. Some of them were
plain old upset with him and others wanted “time”, whether it was to process the events or
come to terms with the fact that Harry was not everything they had thought him to be he was
not sure. There was Luna but she was travelling and researching Merlin knew what sort of
creatures in Merlin knew where.

He summoned writing materials and set aside three sheets of parchment. The prophet had
surely reached the children and they would no doubt be suffering questions of their own. He
would write them, although he was not quite sure what to say. He did not want to blindly
promise them that everything would work out fine, because their idea of fine would be that
everything went back to the way it was, and it would not. But he would encourage them to be
strong and he would let them know that he was there if they needed him and that he was
sorry for putting them through this whole fiasco.

While he was stuffing the last letter into an envelope, he heard a pop and looked up to see
Draco. He had not expected to see him really, since Draco lived at the Manor and only
stopped by on occasion. The blond barely glanced at him as he headed for the loo and Harry
thought he caught a glimpse of a bruise. He set James’ letter down before rushing over.

“Draco, are you all—What happened?” he asked, when Draco glared at him and he saw the
bruised cheek and split lip.

“If it isn’t obvious, Harry, someone punched me,” Draco snapped.

“Whoa hey, wait, let me see—” Harry tried to get the man to turn back around but Draco
shrugged him off. “Draco—”
“Stop it! Don’t—don’t touch me, Harry. Just don’t!” Draco shouted, before locking himself
in the loo.

He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned against the door frame. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Silence.

Okay, that was probably a stupid question, he thought.

“Let me in, please?” he tried.

More silence.

“At least make some sort of sound,” he requested. “... Please?”

It was a bit discomfiting not getting any responses. He knew Draco could have put up a
privacy charm but, considering his imagination was getting away from him, his knowledge of
that was being ignored. How many times had people been clocked and then fainted later on?
The extent of head injuries were not exactly obvious and people needed to be monitored
afterwards, no matter how little damage seemed to have been done.

Harry sighed once more and went to send the letters off before he forgot about them. Perhaps
he should fix some tea for when Draco came out the loo instead of waiting at the door to
hound him with questions. He recalled the moments in Ginny’s pregnancies where she just
could not tolerate him and he reckoned this was one of those moments, just... with Draco.

By the time he heard the bathroom door open, he had a steaming mug in front of him and a
pot of peppermint tea was sitting on the table. He sat upright when Draco entered the room
and waited for the man to say something. Draco took a seat across from him, his face
properly healed now, and poured some tea into the mug Harry had conveniently left at the
table before tossing too much sugar into it.

After Draco had had a few sips and Harry determined that he had waited, fidgeted and
worried for a reasonable amount of time he spoke, because Draco did not seem as if he was
going to.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. He was afraid that asking ‘what happened?’ would go over
about as well as the first time he had asked.

“Fine,” Draco said.

“Draco,” Harry sighed. “You were assaulted-”

“I know. I was there,” the blond said.

“And then there’s the paper and the owls, because if people have been flooding my office
with them, I’m sure you’ve gotten them too,” he continued.

“Look Harry, I’m weary, I’m upset, and for hours now I’ve had this headache that refuses to
go away,” Draco said, resting his head in his palm. “Could I just have peace right now before
I go to the Manor and the incessant flutter of wings that I’m going to hear because no one has
their own bloody life to focus on?”

“If you hadn’t got punched in the face, I’d be more likely to let you have your peace but you
did, and I’m worried,” he said. “Are you going to have Bulstrode take a look at you?”

“... Yes,” Draco answered. “I’m not an idiot, Harry. She’s stopping by the Manor soon.”

“Soon?” he repeated.

“About an hour from now if you really want the specifics,” Draco said, leaning back in his
chair.

“I want to...” he began. “Do you mind if I’m there?”

“Yes,” Draco said, before sipping his tea. Harry felt one of his fingers twitch and he shifted
uncomfortably in his seat. The response made his chest ache more than he would have
expected it to. “But you can come.”

“Thanks,” he nodded. “And if you want me to have an Auror or someone stay with you
during the days—”

“I really don’t want a guard crup, Harry,” Draco declined.

“It’s just—Who’s to say someone else won’t try to attack you?” he said. “And do you even
have an idea of who—”

“George Weasley,” Draco interrupted flatly.

Harry blinked at him and then sighed. “I’ll talk to him,” he offered, as he pinched the bridge
of his nose.

“And say what exactly?” Draco asked. “That you don’t want him to bother the man you
cheated on his sister with? That will go over brilliantly.”

“No, that I won’t take too kindly to the Weasley’s taking their frustrations out on you when
it’s me that they’re upset at,” he corrected. “Not to mention that you’re pregnant, Draco, it’s
not just you that would get hurt. And from what we know, wizards have a higher probability
of miscarrying. I don’t want that to happen.”

Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“What?” he asked.

“Harry, you have no idea how much I don’t want to be near you right now,” Draco said,
without even a pause. “It isn’t even rational. And then you have to go and be concerned and
so bloody considerate and I despise it. Give me an actual reason to hate you, please, so that I
don’t have to sit here and feel like an utter prick.”
The directness took Harry off guard and he fumbled a bit for words. He had always had a bit
of a build up with Ginny to prepare for these moments. She would show signs of irritation for
a few days, get snappish and then finally let him know he was grating on her nerves. When
he thought about it though, he should not have expected Draco to be the same way, at all.

“Um, if you really don’t want me at the Manor I won’t—”

“I want you there, Harry,” Draco said carefully, his eyes closed and his brows knitted. “I just
don’t want you there.”

Harry did not miss this part of pregnancy. It was confusing and it was more than a bit painful
when the... bearer of your child did not want anything to do with you and you could not do
anything to fix it except wait.

“I can keep my distance, if you want,” Harry tried. “Like now.”

“A little further away would be... preferable,” Draco said, noticeably trying to lessen the
harshness of his words. “And if you run into father—”

“Be polite,” he finished. “I know.”

.:.:.:.

“There’s a reason you wanted me to meet you in Muggle London, instead of the Hog’s
Head?” Malfoy asked when Harry stepped up to him.

“Felt like going somewhere non-magical,” he shrugged. Harry loved the Wizarding world but
sometimes he felt like getting away from it and the knowing faces. “Besides, no one knows
who we are here. No prejudice.”

“I don’t have Muggle currency,” Malfoy said.

“I have,” Harry shrugged, giving the other man a look over. “Just pay me back, yeah?”

“... Yeah,” Malfoy frowned. “What are you doing, Potter?”

“Looking to see if you’re normal enough,” he muttered. Harry had never been one for jeans
shirts but Malfoy looked all right in them and the white trousers. He was glad the man had
not put on something like a bright checker shirt and pyjama bottoms. “You’ve done
surprisingly well for a Wizard.”

“I’m not a fan of all the bright colours we tend to wear,” Malfoy shrugged. “Now are we
going to a pub or what?”

“Pub,” he nodded, as he turned and began to head down the street.

“So, Weasley and Granger out on another date, I take it?” Malfoy asked. He let his eyes roam
the street as they walked and frowned or cocked his head at something every now and then.
“Yea,” he shrugged. “And Neville’s busy tending to some exotic flower he wants to give
Hannah.”

“I’ve no clue as to who that is,” Malfoy murmured distractedly. When Harry followed the
blond’s line of sight, he saw that Malfoy was staring at a telly that was visible in someone’s
flat. “I thought Muggles didn’t have moving pictures...”

“Well, not in their papers or photographs,” Harry said. “The telly is a bit different. Runs on
electricity and such.”

“I’ll pretend to understand what you’re saying,” Malfoy said. “Anyway, what about the
female Weasley? Don’t you two have a... thing? Why didn’t you just ask her out?”

“What’s with all the questions?” he asked. “Still don’t believe that I socialise with you
willingly?”

“No, I don’t,” Malfoy scoffed, with a shake of his head. He slowed down to peak under the
bonnet of a car that looked as if it had overheated or something of the sort. “I’m your last
resort, aren’t I?”

“No,” he answered truthfully. “I could have tried Dean, or Seamus, or Luna.”

“So girl Weasley was busy,” Malfoy smirked, as Harry gestured at the entrance to the pub.

“I didn’t check,” he admitted, stepping inside after Malfoy. “I don’t think it’s really the best
time to pursue a relationship. Besides, I don’t want to be committed during my Academy
tenure. I want to have had some semblance of a normal life first. Have a few one offs maybe.
Hogwarts was mostly about Volde—him.”

“You can say it you know, his name. I’m not going to run off screaming at the sound of it,”
Malfoy said. “I can’t make myself do it just yet but... I should at least be able to tolerate
hearing it, shouldn’t I?”

“It’s only been a year. It’s fine if you can’t yet,” he assured. He hailed the bartender and
ordered himself a pint of keg beer.

“Same,” Malfoy nodded to the woman. “And that’s a load of bollocks, Potter. The man’s
dead. I was there. I saw him die. There’s no reason for me to be unable to say it.”

“Most people can’t,” he pointed out, giving the bartender a quick smile as she handed them
their pints. “Could you start a tab for us, please?”

“Sure thing, handsome,” she winked at him.

“Handsome?” Malfoy repeated, with a snort. “Not with those glasses.”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” he said, shoving him lightly. “The glasses are clearly working.”

“Oi, do not make me spill beer on myself,” Malfoy warned, shooting him a glare after
narrowly avoiding just that.
After a bit of watching the crowd, Harry turned his head to Malfoy.

“You really going back to Hogwarts to finish your seventh year?” he asked.

The school had been in a right state after the war and was only just reopening that year. Harry
and Ron had been given special consideration for the Auror Academy so they had opted not
to return. Hermione and a few others were going back though, Draco among them.

“Yes,” Malfoy nodded, his eyes fixed on a girl with brown and blond hair that definitely
knew how to move. “Why?”

“I was just... aren’t you a bit afraid of how you’ll be received?” he asked, before taking a
swig of his beer. Malfoy looked at him flatly and did the same. “I just meant that people are
very likely to target you after everything that happened... And I know not many of your
friends are returning.”

“Do you remember where I was living during the war?” Malfoy asked, after swallowing. He
turned towards Harry. “Who I was living with?”

“No, because my memory is just that bad,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Malfoy gave him a flat look. “Well, Aunt Bella wasn’t exactly... pleasant,” he said, glancing
down at his beer.

“I reckon she wasn’t...” Harry said.

“And neither were the others. So I’ll be fine at Hogwarts. Okay, Potter?” Malfoy said, a bit
snappishly. The war always was a touchy subject. “Even if you can’t ask your little friends to
watch out for me.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“What are you going to say, Potter?” Malfoy asked. “That you’re friends with me all of a
sudden and they should do it? I’m almost certain you haven’t told anyone other than
Aberforth about our friendship, or truce or whatever this is. I know I haven’t.”

“It didn’t seem like something they needed to know,” he admitted. “Why haven’t you told
anyone?”

“How would I even explain it to them?” Malfoy laughed. “I don’t even know how we’re
doing this.”

“True,” Harry nodded. “And everyone knows about most of my life. It’s nice to have
something to myself.”

“I’m not a thing, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, before finishing his beer.

“Quit taking the piss, yeah?” he said.

“Speaking of,” Malfoy nodded. “I’m heading to the loo.”

While Malfoy went to empty his bladder, Harry watched the crowd. He finished his beer and
got a refill before turning back around. A few people were dancing to the music but most
were socialising or grabbing a bite to eat as they drank.

Harry began to wonder if he and Malfoy had actually managed to reach a stage where they
were considered friends. He did not get much time to think about it though.

“Excuse me?” some bloke called from beside Harry.

He turned around to see a tall, thick man smiling at him. Harry reckoned the man’s biceps
were twice the size of his own, or more since he was fairly wiry.

“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink,” the man said more than asked. “Name’s Dan.”

“Uh...” Harry blinked. He was not entirely sure how to gracefully turn someone down,
especially a bloke. “Um... Sorry, no thanks.”

“Please,” the man insisted, inching a bit closer to him. “Doesn’t hurt to give a bloke a try.”

Oh I think it will. “I really don’t—”

“Just one drink?” Dan pressed, reaching his hand out to Harry’s arm.

Holy shit.

“Sorry there,” Malfoy said, startling Harry and not looking very sorry at all. Malfoy, for some
reason, set a hand lightly on Harry’s hip and moved far too close to him, pressing against his
back and resting his chin on his shoulder. “But this one’s busy buying me drinks tonight.”

The bloke looked from Draco to Harry and muttered an apology before walking off. All
Harry could think to do was blink really. He was not quite sure what had just happened.

“Not going to thank me?” Malfoy asked, as he stepped back a bit.

“For making it look as if I’ve been here trying to pull you?” he asked, turning to face Malfoy.

“You can’t be trying to pull me when we came in here together,” Malfoy pointed out, taking
Harry’s beer and drinking it. “And I meant for saving you from the bloke with gargantuan
muscles. He’d probably have ripped you apart.”

“Do not make me imagine that, Malfoy,” he grimaced, before taking the pint back from the
man.

“No one told you to go and imagine it,” Malfoy smirked. “Looks painful though, doesn’t it?
Small as you are.”

“It looks like he’d break me in two before we even got to the painful part of it,” Harry said.

“Well, looks like I can’t leave you alone tonight, Potter.”

 .:.:.:.

Over the next few days, the media did not seem to have any other stories to focus on but
theirs. Reporters were stationed outside his house... Ginny’s house, the Manor and even
Hogwarts. Harry had gotten the better end of that stick since no one but he and Draco knew
about the cottage, and he had made an effort not to floo there from the Ministry lest someone
overhear his destination.

Per the Minister’s request, or insistence rather, Harry had issued a statement to the press, a
very pithy statement. He had basically confirmed Draco’s pregnancy, stated his willingness to
support the child and issued an apology to his wife, family and the Weasleys. He made no
comments on the extent of his affair with Draco and he ignored the rest of the questions
thrown his way.

On his end of the entire fiasco, Draco had dealt with the press from behind the safety of the
Manor gates. He had utilized his experience with handling the media to publish a statement
with Skeeter that portrayed him as a doting soon-to-be parent that was sorry to have come
between Harry and Ginny. Harry was not sure how Draco had managed to dance around
Skeeter’s sharp eye but he reckoned the blond had charmed the woman with pleasant smiles,
and compliments to her questionable intelligence. A few fond caresses to his stomach
probably did not hurt either.

The only person left to issue some sort of statement was Ginny, and Harry was not sure if she
would say anything to the public quite so quickly. He was also a bit worried about what she
would say since she was the victim of the affair.

In all honesty, there were way too many things going on. People were wondering if Harry had
started living with Draco, if he and Draco had been closeted gays all their lives, the extent of
their affair, the state of Harry’s marriage before and after the fact, the reactions of the
children and their families. Plus, Harry still had to work, or at least he hoped he did. If he was
honest with himself, a few of the old codgers in the Wizengamot looked as if they were ready
to toss him to the kerb.

He had just finished handing out new cases and ignoring the way some of his Aurors either
stared or tried not to stare at him when he got an owl from Hogwarts. He went to his office
and read the letter in private. Apparently James and Albus had gotten into an altercation with
Scorpius and so he was being summoned to the school that afternoon. He would have to
leave the office early but that was fine by him. The part that bothered him about this was that
he was probably going to end up in the same room with Ginny, Draco and the children for the
first time.

This is not going to go well...

---

When Harry stepped out the Head Mistress’ fireplace, the first thing he did was freeze on the
spot. The tension in the room was palpable and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand
up. Ginny and Draco had arrived before him and, while they were basically ignoring one
another, the atmosphere was not at all pleasant between them. They were seated in the two
chairs that McGonagall kept in her office for visitors, but had definitely moved them further
apart, and behind them were the children, looking petulant, bruised and, in Albus’ case, a bit
sulky.

Well Scorpius is his friend.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall greeted. Harry knew she was going to be all business when she
referred to him like that instead of by his given name. “Now that you’re here, we may get
started.”

She gestured vaguely in the direction of the others assembled and Harry gave her a polite nod
as he tried to determine where to stand. Ginny would not take too well to Harry going too
near to Draco. Draco definitely was not going to take too well to him standing too near to
Ginny, especially with how often he had been snapping at Harry. But then there was also the
fact that Draco did not exactly want Harry to even be in the same room as him at times.

If I could go into the field for a case, I would.

In the end, Harry stood between and behind the two chairs. That way he was not exactly
favouring anyone and could more or less avoid any glares sent his way as a result of his being
on the fence. He was also in a good position to stop anyone from assaulting someone else in
the room.

I’m also in a good position to be the one assaulted... by everyone.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” McGonagall said, looking at all three of them. “There was an
altercation between your sons today that went so far as physical violence. Now, I know things
are delicate between the three of you and that you’re in a stressful situation, but I won’t
tolerate this nonsense going on at Hogwarts. This is an educational institution and such
outlandish behaviour is not permitted. Now, I’ve already dealt my punishment to the boys but
I fear that unless you three address this then it will only happen again.

“And I’ll have you remember that I am not as lenient as Albus was during your tenure here,”
she finished.

Harry was sure she glanced at him just a bit longer than Ginny and Draco at that last
statement and really he could not be offended by it. He did give a fair amount of trouble
while he was trying to save everyone, including Hogwarts and Sirius, during his tenure. It
was a side effect of his life.

“Now, boys,” McGonagall began, with a gaze that reminded Harry of all the times he had
made her cross, “do explain to your parents the events of this afternoon.”

They turned to the children who, despite not getting along, were doing a bloody good job of
working together to keep quiet. Harry cleared his throat and Albus glanced at him before
looking away quickly. James, on the other hand, gave him enough attention to pierce him
with a hateful glare. Harry had gotten a number of very effective glares in his lifetime
though, so it fell flat.
“James,” Ginny prompted. The boy simply folded his arms in defiance. Ginny was not at all
pleased about that.

In the meanwhile, Draco was pinning Scorpius with a look that seemed to be slowly
withering away at the boy. Try as the boy might to look away, he could not seem to
completely ignore it. Harry knew that stare. It was not at all a good one.

“Boys,” he said. Albus looked as if he was losing his resolve. James was a rock.

Scorpius looked near breaking.

“Albus,” Ginny said.

“Scorpius—”

“I was—”

“—started it!”

“—provoked!”

The two thirteen year olds blurted out. They glared at each other in a way that allowed Harry
to finally see what he and Draco had looked like during their rivalry at school.

Draco raised a brow at his son and they looked to have some sort of silent conversation
before Scorpius gave up completely.

“What was I supposed to do?” Scorpius asked. “Potter keeps insulting you, everyone in
school is talking about you two and it’s all I ever see in the papers. Of course I’m going to
lash out eventually. And then today he—The point is I was provoked and so I hit him. Sorry.”
He added at the end.

Draco sighed and got up, walking over to Scorpius and resting a hand on his shoulder before
speaking to him quietly.

“James, what did you say?” Harry asked.

“How do you know he wasn’t talking about Albus?” his son retorted.

“Because he glares at you more than he does your brother and refers to him as Albus instead
of Potter,” Harry said. “Now, what did you say?”

“Nothing that isn’t true,” the boy said, glowering at him.

“Well then, I don’t see why you can’t just tell us, James,” Ginny said.

“He can’t because it’s not true,” Scorpius snapped, before glancing apologetically at his
father.

“What does it matter anyway?” James asked. “Malfoy already said he started it.”
“Due to provocation,” Harry reminded him. “And you can’t walk about disrespecting people,
Ja—”

“Because Mr. Malfoy had so much respect for our family when he slept with you!” James
said loudly.

“James,” Ginny snapped.

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” James asked. “I bet the only reason the Malfoy’s regained any
standing after the war was—”

“James,” Albus said nervously.

“—because he was slagging around with politicians!” the boy finished. Due to sheer shock,
Harry did not know what to do for a moment and from the look of it, Ginny did not either.

“You take that back!” Scorpius barked, reaching after James despite the fact that Draco was
holding him back.

“James, don’t you ever talk about anyone like that,” he said, pinning his son with a stare. “Do
you know how disrespectful you’re being? How rude? Of course you do, that’s why you said
it. You need to apologise to Mr. Malfoy and to Scorpius.”

“I don’t see why I should,” James said. “It’s probably true, anyway.”

If Harry were Vernon Dursley, he would probably have hit the boy and thrown him in a
holding cell in the Ministry by now. But he was not, so he closed his eyes and shoved his
Vernon impulses to the side.

“James, I really think you should stop,” Albus muttered.

“Apologise James,” Ginny said. She glanced at Draco and Scorpius. “To both of them.”

“The two of you are defending him? Seriously?” James asked incredulously. “He slept with
Dad, Mum.”

“And your dad slept with him. I know,” Ginny said stiffly. Harry barely managed not to
twitch. “Still, apologise. I won’t have my children running around disrespecting people like
this. I didn’t raise you to be that way and I’ll be damned if you start acting like it now.”

“But—”

“James,” he and Ginny said simultaneously. At least they had a semi-united front on this.

“Wh—I’m sorry,” he mumbled, so quietly that Harry doubted anyone but him, Ginny and Al
had heard it, and with such a hateful glare that he might as well have kept his mouth shut.

Harry fixed him with a stare.

James glared at him then turned to Draco, barely looking at him. “I’m sorry for calling you a
slag, amongst other—”

“James,” Ginny said sternly, adopting her Molly-face. That’s what Harry called it when she
was doing proper scolding.

The boy sighed loudly. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful, Mr. Malfoy,” he said a bit more
amicably, but still begrudgingly. “And Malfoy, I’m sorry for speaking baldy about your
father.”

“Apology accepted, James,” Draco said politely. The apology probably was not accepted but
the man was not about to have it out with a teenager.

Scorpius glanced at his father and barely managed to check a sigh. “I’m sorry for assaulting
you,” Scorpius said. “...And Albus, as well.”

When James turned back around, he looked at Harry and Ginny as if asking if they were
happy now. Clearly they were not but it would have to do for now.

Harry looked at Albus and frowned. “Al, why exactly are you here too?” he asked.

“Erm... well... I was trying to get James to stop and then Scorpius clocked him in the jaw and
I hit him and well... yeah...” he explained. “So... I’m sorry too... Scorpius.”

“Now, I don’t want the Headmistress owling me about you two giving trouble, you hear me,”
Ginny said.

“Yes, Mum,” they muttered.

“Scorpius,” Draco said.

“I’m sorry, Father. I won’t give any more trouble and I’ll keep my temper in check,” Scorpius
recited. “I mean it.”

“Potters,” Draco said. Ginny and Harry both looked at him. “I apologise for Scorpius’ less
than civilised behaviour.”

“Likewise, in regards to our sons,” he nodded. He would apologise more properly when they
were alone and in a less awkward setting.

“Likewise,” Ginny said politely, too politely.

“And you two,” Harry said, turning to his boys and addressing them quietly. “You can write
me or your mother if you need to talk to someone. Don’t take your frustrations out on
Scorpius and Mr. Malfoy, or anyone else for that matter.”

Somewhere off to the side, Harry thought he heard Scorpius say, “I’ve got an owl so use it.”

“All right, you three may go down to the Great Hall,” McGonagall said. “You should be able
to catch dinner. And don’t let me hear so much as a whisper of trouble from any of you.”
The three mumbled a ‘Yes, Headmistress’ and left the office.

Ginny turned on Harry then. “Here,” she said, pulling out an envelope that unshrunk itself as
she handed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked sceptically, as he took the envelope.

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend over there,” Ginny said, baring her teeth. “I’m sure he’s
more than familiar with it.”

“Ginny...” he said.

“I’ll leave you to read that,” she said, before heading to the floo. “Good evening,
Headmistress.”

He turned to look at Draco, who was sitting in one of the chairs by now.

“They’re likely divorce papers,” the blond said, holding his head. “Probably custody as
well.”

“Divorce papers?” he repeated, feeling his heart sink. “For the love of—She could have at
least told me she was filing.”

“I told you she would,” Draco muttered.

“Yes, but she could have told me,” he complained. The papers felt a lot like another slap in
the face.

“In the same way that you told her about us?” Draco asked. “What did you expect would
happen? That she’d invited you out to tea and have a peaceful discussion about it?”

“No, but—”

McGonagall cleared her throat and Harry whipped around in shock. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I
should go, shouldn’t I?”

“I see you two are still causing me trouble,” she said mildly. “Except it seems you’re getting
along somewhat better this time around.”

“Hmph, not recently,” Harry muttered.

“Moving on,” Draco said. “Harry, I’m going to need help getting home. I’m feeling...
terrible, actually.”

Harry tucked the envelope away and went to help Draco up.

“I’d always hoped you two would get along some day,” McGonagall said, watching them. “I
shouldn’t be proud of you, considering the circumstances though.”

Harry could not help his blush as he helped Draco to the floo.
 .:.:.:.

“And what does that button do?” Draco asked. He was at Grimmauld Place with Harry and
they were sitting in front of the telly, while Draco asked question after question about the
remote.

“Turns the sound off and on,” Harry said, pressing the mute button as he explained. “You
know the buttons are labelled. I haven’t worn it down so much that the text is unreadable. Or
is your vocabulary less spectacular than I thought it was?”

“Well, pardon me if I can’t figure out what... VCR means,” Draco said, rolling his eyes and
grabbing his bottle of beer.

“Okay, I’ll admit that one required Muggle knowledge,” Harry conceded, as he began surfing
through channels.

“What’s that?” Draco asked, as they came across a commercial.

“A toaster,” he replied.

“What’s a toaster?” Draco asked.

“Something that makes toast...” he muttered.

“What’s this,” Draco asked.

“Ab Fab—Er, Absolutely Fabulous,” Harry shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that he used
the colloquial term for the show. He never did like to admit that he watched it.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re keen on this, aren’t you?”

“Wh—N—Maybe,” Harry sputtered. “Yes. What’s it to you?”

“I don’t even know what’s going on, Harry,” Draco pointed out. “I can’t judge you, yet.”

“Yet?” Harry asked. He yelped when Draco snatched the remote away and vanished it with a
grin. “Oi!”

“We’re going to watch it,” Draco announced.

“You know what, I’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, as he sat back and grabbed his
beer.

A few minutes in and a number of ridiculous questions later, and Draco and Harry were on
the couch laughing. Draco did not even bother to tease him about his snorting, distracted as
he was. Harry made an effort to point out that people did not actually dress like Edina and
Patsy, Edina especially. He also pointed out that most people were not actually like them. He
did not want the man having an even worse idea of what Muggles were actually like.
As it turned out, there was a marathon going on so the two of them hardly noticed how much
time had passed until they had ran out of beers and realised that getting up to go to the
kitchen was not happening, which meant summoning more beer was not very smart. Casting
spells when that pissed was akin to Ron using his old broken wand, just not quite as bad.

“We’re pisshed,” Harry said. He was half draped over Draco from attempting to get up for
more beer and at the moment, moving felt like it took more coordination than he was capable
of.

“Gerroff,” Draco mumbled, as he twisted and shoved. “You’re heev—heav—fat.”

“’m not fat,” he frowned, pinching Draco and making him yelp and wriggle. Harry snickered
at that and did it again.

“Stop,” Draco groaned. “St—Cease and desish—desh—stop.”

“Stop whu—” he made a weird sort of high pitched noise that sounded a bit like eep when
Draco began to poke him.

They fought like that for a while and rolled off of the couch laughing. Harry did not think the
fall had hurt but that might have just been the alcohol clouding his judgement because it
should have hurt, especially since Draco had landed on top of him.

Draco was heavy.

“You’re fat,” he said, and then frowned when the words left his mouth. Something was not
right about the sentence.

Draco gasped and sat up clumsily to glare at him. “I, Draco Looshiush Malfoy, am not fat,”
the man said.

“Fat!” Harry said loudly, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“’m not,” Draco began, as he pulled at his shirt haphazardly until it came off, “’m not fat.
Does thish—Do I look fat?”

“Right thur,” Harry teased, pointing at some random part of Draco’s torso.

“Where!” Draco gasped. Harry laughed and would have rolled over were it not for the weight
on top of him. Draco glared at him and pinched his side. “You’re the fat one.”

Harry scoffed at that and patted his stomach. “Never been fed enough to be fat,” he said. “So,
not fat.”

Draco frowned and squint his eyes at him as if he were trying to sort out what Harry had said.
While the blond was trying to think with his beer addled brain, Harry noticed a few scars
scattered across Draco’s chest.

He reached a hand up to touch them.

“Are these mine?” he asked, feeling the raised flesh.

“Hmm? Yeah,” Draco nodded, looking down at Harry’s hand. “’s fine though.”

“I didn’t... mean to,” he said, as he let his fingers trail along the scars. Harry felt a little like
crying when he remembered Draco lying on the bathroom floor but he was not going to. It
was probably just the booze getting to him, or maybe the fact that he had almost killed Draco.

Draco squirmed and nodded above him, his body shivering. “S’okay, Harry,” the blond
breathed.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, stopping.

“No, feels good,” Draco said, shaking his head.

Harry blinked at the contrast in reactions between now and then. He sat up and let his tongue
follow one of the lines instead of his fingers. In some part of his mind, he was thinking about
how he had caused Draco pain there, had nearly left him cold and lifeless from the wounds.
He would make up for it by doing the opposite, bringing Draco pleasure, making him hot and
more full of life than Harry had expected to see in him after the spell was cast, and from the
very scars of those wounds.

Judging from the way Draco was reacting, it seemed like Harry’s idea was working and it
was not long before they were a panting, writhing mess on the floor. He had not intended to
get pleasure out of the moment as well, but hey it happened, and now all he knew was the
way their hips rutted together and how Draco’s lips, mouth and tongue moved in tandem with
his.

---

There was a bright light shining on Harry’s face and he wanted to get away from it because it
was not helping with the throbbing in his head. He tried to move away from it and found that
something heavy was thwarting his efforts. He groaned and opened his eyes to seeing a
bleary, pale blob. He frowned and followed it with his eyes, turning his head and wiggling to
the side until something blond came into view. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes before
squinting at the-

“Draco!” he gasped, and scrambled back. The movement made his head swim and caused
Draco to slide down to his stomach and lap.

Why is he not wearing a shirt? Harry wondered. His hands flew to his own torso and he was
glad to find that his shirt was still on, just a bit rucked up.

He looked around for his glasses and grabbed them from somewhere nearby before shaking
the blond awake. “Draco, Draco, wake up,” he demanded.

He was not doing his hangover any favours right now with all the excessive movement but he
did not exactly have any hangover potions lying around either.

Why are we on the floor? He wondered. And why is my back sore?

With a gasp and flailing limbs, Draco finally woke up, batting Harry off and scrambling away
until he hit the coffee table. “I won’t fail the next time I swear! I—I-”

“Draco?” he said, not wanting to go any closer to the man for fear of losing an eye, because
he seemed a bit frightened.

Harry noticed now that Draco was smattered in love bites.

“Wh—Harry?” Draco frowned. “What are you—Why am I at—Ugh, I’m going to assume
that we got more than smashed last night.”

“Er, yeah,” Harry agreed. “You all right? You sort of... freaked out just n—”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Draco said too quickly, before frowning at him. “You look like a
leech got to your neck.”

“Well, I’m not the only—” Harry froze as he realised what happened.

“Where’s my shirt?” Draco asked, looking around for it.

“Um... Draco...” he began. He was not quite sure how to address the situation. Harry did not
make a habit of getting drunk with other people, precisely to avoid this sort of awkwardness
and because he was generally brooding when he was drunk.

“And ugh, my trousers are—” Draco’s head snapped up before he could finish the sentence.
He winced a bit but that did not dampen the shock on his face. “Sweet Salazaar’s stinky
fucking socks. Did we—”

“I think we did,” Harry grimaced.

“We were that smashed?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“I reckon we were...” he nodded.

“At least tell me that your trousers are in a similar state,” Draco groaned.

“Yeah...” he nodded, after checking. He could feel the heat spreading over his face at that.

“Well at least we’re still wearing our trousers,” Draco commented, rising to his feet and
wobbling a bit.

“Have you had this happen before...?” he asked.

“Fifth year. A number of us went to Pansy’s and played challenge or confession, with drinks
clearly,” Draco said. Challenge or confession was what wizards called truth or dare. “I think
some of us ended up skinny dipping in the pool but I’m not entirely sure what happened after
that.”

“Right...” Harry nodded, spotting Draco’s shirt and grabbing it.

“Hopefully won’t enjoy myself any more than we did when I go to Pansy’s later.”

“Who said we enjoyed it?” Harry asked, tossing Draco his shirt. They seemed to have
reached some silent agreement not to get too close to one another.

“The cum in our trousers, I would think,” Draco said. He furrowed his brows and looked
around.

“This wasn’t how I expected my last day before the Academy to start out,” Harry sighed,
lying back on the floor.

“Likewise for eighth year,” Draco said, before he found his wand. “Right then, I’ve got all
my things... I suppose I should... go home.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Before I realise how embarrassed I am and this gets properly
awkward.”

.:.:.:.

“You want me to what?” Harry asked Minister Clutterbuck.

“Potter, it’s just temporary leave,” Clutterbuck said. “Tell the press you’re taking time off to
deal with your family issues. You’re bringing a lot of bad press to the Ministry right now and
that’ll help your image. Plus, no one wants to put the trust of the Auror department into
someone who’s juggling so much. You’ve got the divorce with your wife, then later down in
that, there’s the custody battle and you’ve a unique pregnancy you’re dealing with. People are
worried.”

“So you want me to drop all my responsibilities to my job to handle what I’m already
handling?” he asked.

“You’ve already left work on multiple occasions because of this,” Clutterbuck said sternly.
“Altercations between the chil—”

“One altercation,” he pointed out.

“Even so, you’ve had to leave to assist Mr. Malfoy in medical situations and for meetings
with your and your wife’s attorneys,” Clutterbuck continued. “You’re the Head Auror. We
can’t have you being distracted when you run the Auror department. That’s public safety
you’re risking.”

He was not going to dispute the attorney or medical scenarios. His free hours were not
exactly during the work day so the divorce meetings did cut into work time and Draco did
have a few days where he had spent more time retching than keeping food down and Harry
had needed to take him to St. Mungo’s.

“So, who’d be sitting in for me?” he asked.

“Potter,” Clutterbuck warned.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Mr. Weasley,” the Minister answered.

“Ron,” Harry said in shock. “Ron? You’re giving it to Ron? So I can’t argue that he’s got his
own family issues to deal with, seeing as it’s his sister divorcing me.”

“He isn’t directly involved in the situation,” Clutterbuck said.

“For fuck’s sake, Jerry,” he groaned. “What am I supposed to do at home?”

Clutterbuck sighed, and opened his desk drawer before pulling out two tumblers and a bottle
of firewhiskey. “Sit down, would you,” the Minister said.

“You know one day someone is going to realise you keep booze in there,” he muttered, sitting
and talking a glass after Clutterbuck poured a bit of the firewhiskey in it. “And I’ll deny any
knowledge of your drinking on the job but I won’t tell them it was unthinkable.”

“Hmph. Look, Harry,” the man began, dropping the formalities for a while. “I know you’re
good at your job. You’ve done wonders for the department. But so has Weasley. And let’s be
honest, it’s a political scandal, your life right now. You’re lucky the Wizengamot isn’t
pushing for me to fire you. You got an ex-Death Eater pregnant, Harry. Some of those old
codgers are still holding grudges against the Malfoys, all the Malfoys, even the little one who
has nothing to do with the war. I can’t have you stay on while this is all still fresh and filling
up the papers. And you’re dead tired, I can tell. Just go home.”

Harry groaned and set his tumbler down. “If I go home, all I’m going to do is deal with the
divorce, the pregnancy and the fact that half my mates are upset at me. I can’t even do
anything about the children being upset because they’re in school and they’re at that
rebellious stage.”

“It’s not easy. I know,” Clutterbuck nodded, as Harry finished the rest of his glass. “But go
home, Harry. You can’t handle an entire department with all that on your hands.”

“I’m going to go mad if I’m just sitting at home,” he said.

Clutterbuck shrugged and swallowed a bit of his firewhiskey.

“Keep me updated, at least?” he asked. “Or use me as a consultant?”

“... Only consulting... On particularly tough cases,” Clutterbuck conceded. “Go home, Harry.
And sort your shit out.”

He sighed and got up. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

“We can announce it to the press tomorrow,” said Clutterbuck. “Potter.”

---
“I see,” Draco said, as Bulstrode examined him. Harry had just told him about his sort-of-
leave. “At least he’s kept you on in some capacity.”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, watching the woman’s wand swish above Draco’s visibly swollen
stomach.

The man was basically at the end of his first trimester, 11½ weeks and counting. There had
been quite a bit of retching and ridiculous food cravings, that confused the house elves
sometimes because they included Muggle things—which meant that Harry had to go running
around to places he could not Apparate to, or in special cases, he had to cook.

There was also a lot of complaining, about everything, which he had expected. If Draco was
not complaining about something then he was sleeping (all right maybe that was an
exaggeration) and Harry knew this because he had asked one of the house elves, Zizi, to give
him updates. She had seemed more than willing to help him.

From what Harry could tell Draco was sleeping a lot more than Ginny had. It was likely
because his body had to adapt a lot more to accommodate the baby. Harry did not mind that
though. Draco was adorable when he was asleep, even if he did look a complete mess. Harry
had gone to the cottage a few times to see him in the bed with his hair mussed and his mouth
dangling open.

“You need new clothes, love,” Bulstrode commented, pulling Harry back from his
daydreaming.

“I know,” Draco said, none too pleasantly. “Pansy and Astoria are dragging me shopping.
And they seem far too excited about it.”

“Sounds like it could be fun,” Bulstrode shrugged.

“Don’t think for a second that I honestly believe you think that,” Draco said flatly.

“I really don’t,” Bulstrode admitted, with a smile. Harry was possibly a bit jealous that Draco
still had his friends to talk to. “Anyway, both you and the baby are progressing well. But
drink some more fluids. You’re still a bit dehydrated. And try to cut down on fatty foods so I
don’t have to run over here for another heartburn fright. But don’t assume that if you have a
similar feeling it has to be heartburn. You’re almost forty and you’re male. So while I don’t
like dropping plans for false alarms I do prefer it to you keeping mum about something that
could be serious.”

Draco gave an amused smile, as he always did when she mothered him, and muttered an
agreement before shooing her away. Bulstrode rolled her eyes at him before heading to the
floo. She nodded at Harry before leaving and he did the same.

When he turned back around to look at Draco, the man was up and walking over to his
bloody full length mirror and that was never a good thing nowadays.

“What are you doing?” Harry sighed, getting up.

Draco turned in front of the mirror with a frown and sighed. “I’ve got to get maternity
clothes,” the man muttered.

“I know,” Harry nodded, leaning beside the large mirror. “You just talked about that.”

“I’m getting fat,” Draco said, glaring at the mirror.

“No, you aren’t,” he said, and not for the first time either. “Draco, the baby’s growing is all.”

“And I’m getting fat in the process,” the man said, rubbing a hand over his stomach.

There was no way to hide the bump now. It was clear Draco was pregnant, especially
compared to how slim the blond had been a few months prior. He did not look fat though.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you aren’t fat before you believe me?” Harry
asked.

“I’m not going to believe you until I’m not pregnant anymore,” Draco said, turning to frown
at his arse in the mirror.

Harry had to admit that the man’s arse was a wee bit bigger but it was the good sort of bigger,
the sort that beckoned his hand to reach out and—He looked away before he found himself
with an erection and a recalcitrant lover. Instead of palming Draco’s arse the way he wanted
to, he steered the blond away from the mirror.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked.

“Taking you away from that mirror,” he said. “How about we go to the cottage now that I’ve
got nothing to do and you don’t have anything else planned?”

“... Why?” Draco asked warily.

“To find something to watch on the telly so you can stop fussing over your non-existent fat,”
he teased.

“Hmph,” Draco snorted, despite following him.

Once they were sitting down and watching Coronation Street, Draco seemed to put aside his
weight issues.

Mission accomplished.

“Hey, did you listen to me and ask Blaise to be your divorce attorney?” Draco asked.

“I did,” he nodded. After a few meetings with Ginny, it had become apparent that Harry was
going to need an attorney. “She doesn’t know it’s him yet.”

“That’ll be interesting then,” Draco said.

“It’ll be trouble is what,” he muttered. He was dreading the first meeting he brought Zabini
to. He could not see it going well at all.

“Harry,” Draco said.

He turned to look at him.

“If you need anything you can ask,” the man said.

“I know,” he smiled.

“Good,” Draco nodded. “Now, I want a pretzel.”

He had almost reminded Draco that he was just complaining about being fat but he thought
better of it and got up to go the kitchen.

.:.:.:.

“Final year of Auror Academy,” Harry grinned, dropping into a seat at the cinema.

“Third year of business school,” Draco drawled, sitting down beside him.

“I still say you would have done better trying to become a Curse Breaker,” Harry said,
opening his bag of Maltesers.

“It’s not as if I despite it. It’s just a bit boring sometimes,” Draco said. “And you’re going to
finish those before the movie starts, you greedy sod.”

“I bought two,” he shrugged. “And that’s why you took that potion’s elective, right? To add
some diversity.”

“It was,” Draco nodded, tearing off a piece of his soft pretzel. “And because of the
apothecary. I’m thinking of declaring a minor.”

“I still don’t see what the appeal is,” he said, watching the previews.

“You just don’t appreciate the intricacies of the art,” Draco said, pulling out his wand and
swishing it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, glancing around. They were in a Muggle area for Merlin’s
sake. You did not just pull your wand and wave it about.

“Notice-Me-Not charm,” Draco said, as if it should have been obvious. “We aren’t exactly
quiet when we watch films.”

“Just—Don’t do any more magic,” he said.

“I know how to be discreet, Harry,” Draco said.

Harry propped his feet up on the empty seat in front of him and tried to calm down. Draco
had been discreet.
The two of them had started visiting the cinema at least once every summer after Harry had
introduced the blond to it during the summer after his first year at the Academy. Tonight they
were watching the film Love Actually, mostly because they had enjoyed watching that one
bloke that was in About a Boy the previous year.

He and Draco made comments regularly, Draco often muttering about the characters doing
something that was obviously a bad idea. He tended to do that.

“This bloke looks like Severus,” Draco said, leaning forwards. “But without the greasy hair
and billowing cloak.”

“And perpetual sneer,” Harry muttered. Draco pinched his arm. “Ow.”

“You know what I find amusing?” Draco smirked, settling back into his seat. “Severus’
doppelganger is named Harry.”

“I’m conflicted about that,” he frowned. On one hand, Snape had been absolutely dreadful to
him, and on the other, he had protected him more times than Harry probably knew.

---

“Do the people in here have nothing better to do?” Draco drawled, glancing at the numerous
snogging couples in the cinema, namely the people in front of him that was disturbing them
with all sorts of noises.

“It’s a dim room with people being romantic on screen,” Harry pointed out. “They’re randy.”

“It’s not as if the film’s uninteresting though,” Draco argued. “They could wait until it was
done and then do whatever they want after. Spare others from the display of affection. We do
that.”

“Some of them are on dates,” he shrugged. “I reckon they don’t mind snogging in here.
Maybe it gives them a thrill.”

“Does it?” Draco asked.

“Does it what?” he frowned.

“Give you a thrill,” Draco clarified.

“... I... wouldn’t know actually,” he said, thinking about it. As someone who grew up in the
Muggle world, Harry reckoned it should be on the list of things he had done but he had not
exactly had the opportunity. “I’ve never carried anyone on a date to the cinema, unless I
count when I come with you. And I don’t think I should.”

All of Harry’s date’s involved Wizarding areas and on campus venues.

“Because we aren’t dating. We come here to watch the film,” Draco said. “And look at that,
your character has sorted things with his wife. Well done, Potter.”
“He’s not my character,” he grumbled.

Draco smiled and shook his head.

“Hey, do you want to come here and not watch a film with me?” he asked, when the credits
were rolling.

Over the last few years, he and Draco had occasionally used one another to experiment,
mostly because they were the only people they knew that would not run to the media or make
a big deal out of it. Harry reckoned that after that drunken night at Grimmauld, they had
acknowledged that the boundary had already been crossed.

It was a good thing though, because when Harry had gotten curious about a bit of arse play,
he had someone he could go to. If he did not have Draco, he would have had to find someone
both discreet and willing to experiment with and that was difficult to judge when everyone
watched you to be a notch on their belt just so they could say “Oh, hey, I shagged the Saviour
and got him to lick my arse too”.

“Will it be a quality or mediocre film?” Draco asked.

“... Mediocre,” he said. What was the point of them going to a good film to ignore it?

“Give me a pretzel and I’ll agree to go,” Draco said, getting out of his seat and straightening
his clothes.

“If I had known that was all it took to get into your pants,” he teased, avoiding the pinch that
came his way after.

“The ones that you make,” Draco said. “I prefer those.”

“Trust you to ask me to bake for you. I’m not your wife, you know,” he said, rising from his
seat.

“Really? Because I thought you were,” Draco smirked.

“Do I have to make them tonight? I’ve got that club thing with Ron and the others.”

“Tonight or no deal,” Draco said.

“All right, all right,” he agreed.

.:.:.:.

It was Easter hols for Hogwarts and the children would be going home to Ginny for the first
week. Harry had opted to move into Grimmauld so that they could visit him there instead of
at the cottage. He doubted they would have appreciated that, and so he had spent the entire
day cleaning.

Zabini had advised him to make arrangements for equal custody during the divorce and he
had. Apparently things got very nasty between some divorcees and one parent would use the
children against the other. He doubted Ginny would actually do that but Zabini had insisted,
and judging from her reaction, she probably had not wanted them to stay with him at any
point this Easter.

He was glad Zabini was thorough.

---

When Harry woke up, it was dark out and his Floo was chiming incessantly. He frowned at
the fireplace and let the call through. The Ministry would send him an owl if they needed him
to consult so he knew it was not them. He was not sure if his friends had been trying to get
him through this Floo for the past few months though he doubted it, but Draco knew he was
there and he would be livid if Harry just rolled over and went back to sleep.

“Now that you’ve opened the bloody Floo,” Draco muttered, “I’m coming over.”

The flames flared a moment later and Draco stepped from the fireplace clad in his blue silk
robe.

“What time is it?” Harry asked, stretching.

“Three in the morning,” Draco said, as he removed his robe.

“You’re randy?” Harry frowned, glancing at the tented pyjama bottoms he could now see.
“That’s why you’re here? Draco, I just spent the entire day cleaning the entire house. I’m
tired. Can’t you just... have a wank this time?”

“No,” the blond said, with an air of finality and the look that Harry knew better than to
challenge.

He checked a sigh and fumbled with his trousers.

Not long after Draco entered his second trimester, a switch had been flipped and he went
from not wanting Harry to touch him to wanting to shag at all hours of the day, practically
every day. Now, Harry knew this could have happened at some point and that it would
eventually drive him spare, as it had with two of Ginny’s pregnancies, but he had not
anticipated being in the middle of a divorce when it happened. He was not entirely sure when
he expected the divorce to happen to be honest.

Draco shucked his bottoms and tossed his shirt in record time before descending on Harry’s
cock and sucking him in. Harry had not even gotten to his shirt as yet. The blond’s mouth
was hot and moist around him and his tongue laved at Harry as he tried to coax him to
hardness. Having Draco suckle on his cock was always bloody arousing but Harry’s cock did
not seem to appreciate it.

He was tired, and he was admittedly worried about having his children over next week, and
the last meeting he had had with Ginny had been absolutely terrible. She had not taken well
to his hiring Zabini, and after the last few meetings, she probably realised that Zabini knew
what the fuck he was doing.
Ginny was definitely going to make the divorce more difficult than it needed to be if the look
on her face had been anything to go by, and it was. He would know. He just hoped that the
disagreements were not so terrible that the mediator had them take it to trial.

“Draco,” he sighed, sitting up. “I—I really don’t think this is going to happen.”

Ten years ago this would have been absolutely embarrassing and Harry would have been
mortified but it was not as if it was the first time this had happened with Draco, so he was
only slightly embarrassed. He was also terribly worried about the blond’s wrath and that
definitely was not helping.

Draco let Harry’s flaccid cock slide out of his mouth and closed his eyes as he sat up, taking a
deep breath.

“Roll over then,” the man said when he looked at Harry.

Harry blinked at him.

“I’m going to fuck you. Roll over.”

“You’re going to—”

Harry glanced from Draco’s face to his cock and then to his stomach and then back to his
face.

“Harry,” Draco said sternly.

He rolled over without another word and tucked two of the cushions under his hips as he
wondered at the unexpected arousal the declaration had caused. His cock twitched in interest
but still remained flaccid.

Bloody cock.

“I don’t have the patience to properly stretch you,” Draco warned, as he cast non-verbal
lubrication and stretching charms. It was not as effective as manually preparing someone and
it definitely was not as exciting but it did the job.

“That’s fine,” he said, swallowing as he looked behind him. He wanted to watch.

Draco spread Harry’s cheeks with his palms and rubbed the tip of his cock along the sensitive
knot of muscles before pressing inside, his breath hitching as Harry’s muscles parted for him.
It burned a bit and Harry’s brows knit together but he always enjoyed the way Draco fit
inside him. Still, it had been a while since he had taken anything other than his fingers. The
pregnancy had Draco wanting to be shagged rather than doing the shagging.

“Give me a sec,” he breathed, when Draco was buried inside of him.

“Harry,” Draco warned.

“I know, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. He wiggled his hips a bit and then nodded.
“Okay.” He pushed his arse back encouragingly.

He looked back to watch Draco thrusting into him and could not stop after that. Draco had a
hand on Harry’s hip while the other caressed his sensitive nipples. The blond’s eyes were
closed and his jaw slightly opened. When he finally opened his eyes, Harry’s throat went dry
at the lust that darkened them. Draco was fucking him harder now and Harry had to pause in
his watching as he moaned into the couch. He reached for his cock and pulled at it. Just
because he was not hard did not mean it did not feel good.

Draco held onto Harry’s hips as he pressed in deep, grinding his hips. Harry hummed and
followed his motions, his eyes threatening to flutter closed.

“Fuck,” he panted, watching his arse undulate under the swell of Draco’s stomach and feeling
the man shift against him, inside of him.

Something about having his pregnant lover doing the fucking was bloody kinky. He could not
help himself, he reached back rested his hand on the man’s stomach, stroking it before he let
his hand glide around to that pale, round arse and squeezing it.

Harry tried to keep up as Draco quickened his movements but he decided to settle for lying
there with his arse up, moaning and touching himself while Draco went at him.

“Yes... yes... ahn,” he moaned, as he watched Draco fuck him.

He half wanted to reach his other hand under himself to find and fondle Draco’s sac but it
was a lot easier to just let the man do all the work. It was the first time since this sex craze
that he had not been incessantly nagged to go ‘harder’ or ‘deeper’ or ‘slower’ or Merlin knew
what else for the duration of their coupling and he would enjoy it.

“Harry, Harry, I’m going to—” Draco panted.

“Yes,” he breathed, closing his eyes and just feeling.

“Do you want it, Harry?” Draco asked, his grip on Harry’s hips tightening. “Do you want
me?”

“Yes, Draco—mmm, fuck yes,” he whimpered, feeling his orgasm nearing. “I want—I—Give
me—Want you—Yes.”

Draco groaned and throbbed hot inside of Harry, rocking against him as he rode out his
orgasm. Harry groaned and pressed his fingers against his perineum, massaging it. He
whimpered and bucked as his orgasm ran through him and he moaned into the couch as he
messed his cushions.

Couldn’t even wait until we settled the divorce, could you? said his, usually silent, Ginny-
voice.

“Fuck,” he sighed.
---

He groaned as he was shaken awake and groaned again when he realised it was barely even
morning. Harry turned his head to look tiredly at Draco. They had gone up to the bedroom
after their shag because Draco had been too tired to floo home and trek to his bedroom in the
Manor, but not tired enough to just pass out on the couch, the way Harry had intended to.

“Harry,” Draco murmured, stroking his chest lightly. “I’m randy.”

“Can you settle for a blow?” he asked tiredly. “You like those.”

“I want to have sex,” Draco frowned. “Rough sex. I want you to fuck me until I’m
incoherent.”

A month ago, Harry would have already found himself between Draco’s legs doing just that
but right now he was fighting the urge to roll away and burrow under the covers until he felt
less like a piece of shit.

“How about a blow and I use a vibrator on you?” he asked.

“If you’re just going to use a vibrator, then I might as well masturbate,” Draco complained.

Harry knew that was not Draco saying ‘I’ll take care of it myself’ but part of him had swelled
with the hope of being able to go back to sleep and get away from his brain for a while. It
must have shown on his face because he found himself looking at a very displeased Draco
Malfoy.

“Is it that you don’t want to sleep with me anymore?” Draco snapped, sitting up.

“What?” Harry blinked, propping himself up on his elbows. “No, that’s not—I still want to
have sex with you, Draco. I’m just—I’m tired and I’ve got a lot on my mind. The most I
could manage right now would be a lazy shag anyway. Just let me get some sleep and tonight
I can—”

“That’s too far from now,” Draco objected, running his finger over Harry’s chest.

“Draco,” he sighed. “I really don’t have the energy to—”

“Please, Harry,” Draco whined, flattening his hand. “I want you inside me, need you. You
were all I dreamt about last night.”

“Draco, I can’t d—” He stopped when he saw the glare that was being directed at him and the
way the blond’s chest was heaving. Draco looked so frustrated that he might— “Draco,
please don’t cry.”

He could not stand it when Draco cried. Draco hardly ever cried.

“And what if I do?” the blond snapped, trying to blink away the tears that were coming. “I
can’t help it, Potter.”
Oh, Merlin.

“It’s these sodding hormones,” the blond complained, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you
have any idea what I feel like right now? No, you don’t. I’m randy from dusk ‘til dawn, I cry
on whimsy, my emotions are flitting about all over the place, I can’t even have a drink. I’ve
been constipated, I’m fucking getting bigger by the day, and my parents have barely looked at
me now that it’s completely fucking obvious I’m—”

“Draco,” Harry said softly, as he sat up quickly. He took one of the blond’s hands into his
own. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, kissing the man’s knuckles.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Draco muttered, wiping at his eyes.

“No, it’s not,” he said gently, helping to wipe the tears away. “I really am tired though.”

“... I suppose your fingers can suffice for now,” Draco hiccupped, once he calmed down.

“Don’t want the vibrator?” he asked, rubbing Draco’s back soothingly.

“No, I want you,” the blond said, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Whatever is inside me I want it to
be from you, your cock, your tongue, your fingers. You.”

Apparently pregnancy made Draco more intimate with his words. Words that made Harry’s
emotions swell in his chest, made his skin tingle and made him wonder what the fuck he was
going to do after the divorce was settled and the baby was born.

And, Merlin, if the divorce was not exactly what he should avoid thinking about right now.

.:.:.:.

“This is a lot of land...” Harry said, letting his eyes roam the Malfoy’s endless vineyard. It
was night time so he could not see the expanse of it all too well but he could see enough.

“Yes, well, we’ve already established that my family is wealthy,” Draco said, leading the
way.

“Still though,” Harry said. “And I can’t believe you’re actually taking on the business.
Doesn’t Lucius want it when his sentence is over?”

“No, he doesn’t. The business is doing well. I’m likely to start a family in a couple years and
the family’s regaining prestige. He’s looking to retire,” Draco said, before plucking a grape
from its bunch and rubbing it clean on his sleeve. “Here.”

Harry blinked before taking the grape and eating it. The sweetness took him off guard.
“Those are some good grapes.”

“I know,” Draco smirked. “The wine’s brilliant as well.”

“How much does a bottle go for, anyway?” He asked. “I’ve been contemplating a romantic
dinner, for when I propose to Ginny, and you know I’m not one for wines, so I’ve been
wondering what to pick.”

“I can give you a bottle. What does she like?” Draco asked. “And what are you serving?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he shrugged. “Maybe fish. She likes fish.”

“Not what I meant when I asked what she liked, Harry,” the blond said. “But once you’ve
decided on the dish then tell me. I can recommend a nice white for you.”

Harry nodded.

“We’re going to have to stop doing this, aren’t we?” he asked.

“Talking?” Draco asked, turning towards him. “Or...” He hooked a finger in the loop of
Harry’s denims.

“The latter,” he said, pulling Draco’s hand away but not letting it go. “You’re engaged,
Draco, and I’m plucking up the courage to propose.”

The blond looked at him and gave a half smile. “I know,” he said. “How about a celebratory
drink after the Weasley woman says yes? It’ll double as a farewell.”

“If she says yes. And I reckon that’s all right,” he smiled, tugging Draco forwards. “Are you
going to miss me?”

“Hmph, not a chance,” Draco scoffed. “... I might miss your arse though, maybe even your
cock.”

“My cock?” he asked. “I thought Astoria was all for pegging you.”

“She is,” Draco nodded, stepping away and resuming their walk.

“But?” he asked, because he could hear one.

Draco turned to smirk at him. “She doesn’t quite know how to fuck me like you do.”

After those words, how was Harry supposed to do anything but exactly that, right there in the
vineyard and the dirt? He did not quite care that Draco would complain about the stains
afterwards or gripe at him about being filthy. They were going to break things off so he might
as well take advantage of the time they had left.

.:.:.:.

Before Harry had even set foot out of the hearth, he was stretching. He was knackered and
having Draco wake him up at all hours had not helped. At least he had a bit of a break in the
days now that Scorpius was at the Manor. He dusted the soot from his robes as he went over
to Zabini and nodded at the man. Zabini simply raised a brow at him.

“What?” he asked.
“You look like shit is what,” Zabini said, swishing his wand and tidying Harry’s robes.

“Draco... woke me up,” he muttered, yawning.

“I bet he did,” Zabini smirked, as he started towards the meeting room. “Now come along,
Potter. You don’t want to be late for your meeting with Weasley. It doesn’t look good. And
you need to look good. Keep up appearances throughout the divorce settlement and it’ll help
if this gets dragged into court. If I have my way though, it won’t be.”

“Right,” he nodded, patting down his hair.

“Now, let’s go and dispute the outlandish sum of money she wants from your vaults,” Zabini
said. “And, don’t mention that you and Draco have been continuing to commit adultery, even
if they prod. It’s none of their business and you owe them nothing. Not with the dent Mrs.
Potter wants to put in your vault.”

“Right, I don’t owe them anything,” he repeated, trying to get himself to believe the words. “I
don’t. Gin’s trying to leave me penniless. George clocked Draco in the face. So I don’t.”

“You know, I find it amusing that your pet name for her is a type of alcohol,” Zabini smirked.
“It’s absolutely priceless.”

“Trust you to notice,” he muttered.

“Now, what was that you said about the Weasley twin?” Zabini asked. He looked a bit too
pleasant, all things considered.

“Draco didn’t tell you about that, did he...?” Harry muttered.

“No, and I can imagine why,” Zabini said, starting for the meeting room again.

“Why?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Because, in some way or another, I’d have found a way to get the bloke back,” Zabini
grinned. It was an unsettling sort of grin. “You can’t imagine how happy I am you hired me
as your attorney, Potter.”

“Godric, this is going to be dreadful,” he muttered.

“For Mrs. Potter, yes.”

And that was exactly what Harry was worried about.

---

After the negotiations that morning, Harry was beat. Zabini had maintained his
professionalism but he had been on fire. Harry swore he saw Lawson’s eye twitching. He
was Ginny’s attorney and Percy’s long time boyfriend. When Zabini had found that out, he
had gladly pointed out that if anyone brought up the fact that he and Draco were close friends
then that would be something they could throw out there to counter it. Ginny had not looked
too pleased today either.

Harry was not sure where Zabini sometimes managed to pull information from but it was
frightening and he was glad the man was his attorney. He just hoped Zabini did not go get
overly excited about this though. It would not be good for the Weasley’s.

A knock on his door signalled Hermione’s arrival and he hurried to answer it before pausing
to shake out his nerves and fix his clothes. Bloody hell, all she was doing was dropping his
children off. Ginny did not exactly want to see him unnecessarily. He was not trying to
impress anyone... Was he?

He opened the door and grinned when he saw his children. It had been a while.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hi Dad,” Lily smiled, giving him a quick hug before going inside.

“Dad,” Albus nodded. Harry reckoned it was better than the curt nod James gave him before
walking in.

“Hi,” Hermione said, pulling him away from staring after them.

“Hey,” he said, a bit awkwardly. They had not spoken much since The Unmentionable
Dinner. “Thanks for carrying them over for me.”

“It’s no problem,” she shrugged, glancing down at the ground for a second.

“I miss you guys,” he said, before he could stop himself.

Hermione’s nervousness melted away so quickly that Harry did not have time to prepare
himself for when she launched herself at him.

“Oh Harry,” she said, squeezing the life out of him and then speaking a mile a minute. “I
missed you too. It’s so weird, not talking to you. I didn’t know what to do though. What with
Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasley’s and of course I’m upset at you. Harry, I’m upset
at you. But it must have been hard not having anyone to talk to. I know everyone’s basically
been siding with Ron, but it was so hard not to. I think we all sort of took offence and then
seeing Ginny the way she was... is—”

“’Mione, ‘Mione, take a breath, would you,” he said. He was not sure what to say after she
had listened to him though and he struggled for a while before deciding on, “Do you... want
to come inside?”

“... Yeah, yeah, I think I do,” she nodded, doing just that.

He went and made sure the children had put their things up in their rooms and checking if
anyone wanted anything to eat or drink before fixing Hermione some tea. They did not look
as if they were leaving their rooms anytime soon.
“How are you?” Hermione asked, thumbing the rim of her cup.

“Better now that I know you’ll still talk to me,” he smiled.

“Harry,” she said softly.

He sighed and sat back in his chair. “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “But I’ve also been
worse, so I reckon I’m okay.”

“I should have come and talked to you sooner,” she sighed. “And don’t say its fine. I’m your
best friend, Harry. I should have been there in some sort of capacity. It would have been...
difficult and—That isn’t a valid excuse because nothing about this is easy.”

“Aha, no, it isn’t,” he agreed. “Anyway... how’re Ron and the others?”

“Feeling a bit betrayed, but I think Ron and Ginny are taking it the hardest,” she said.
“George was pretty upset for a while but I think he calmed down a bit after you... I wouldn’t
call it speaking to him. It was more like a scolding from what I heard.”

“It was either that or I would have hexed him,” he muttered.

“You would have hexed him?” Hermione frowned. “I get the feeling Ron didn’t tell me the
full story.”

“Well, what do older brothers normally do in this situation?” he asked.

“He didn’t,” Hermione gasped. “He did? But Malfoy’s—I’m actually really impressed you
didn’t hex George.”

He gave a short laugh and nodded. “I was too to be completely honest,” he said.

“Harry, I want you to know that you can talk to me,” Hermione said suddenly. “I can’t
imagine what the last few months must have been like on your end.”

“It’s not as if I’ve been completely alone,” he said. “You probably don’t want to hear it, but
I’ve had Draco to talk to. And yes, I would have liked someone less involved to talk to, but I
couldn’t do much about that.”

“Are you two...?” Hermione began, before resorting to vague gestures.

“Are we what?” he asked. “Are we... dating? Are we getting serious? What are you asking?”

Watch your words, Potter. I don’t care if it’s Granger, came Zabini’s voice. Merlin, he had an
inner Zabini.

“Well, yeah,” she nodded awkwardly. “Those.”

“We aren’t dating,” he said. At least I don’t think we are... Are we? If anything, we’re far past
that... “And... honestly it‘s hard to judge how serious we may or may not be. It’s a
complicated situation. He’s pregnant with my child, Hermione, so I’m going to see him
regularly, and talk to him, and be there for him when I can and when I need to be.”

“I just—” Hermione sighed and sipped her tea. “I don’t... understand, Harry. And I’ve been
trying to.”

“If we’re going to talk about this, I’d rather we go to the drawing room,” he said.

He wanted to be able to cast privacy charms on the room but he wanted to use somewhere he
could leave open. He doubted that having James listen in on anything about Draco would end
well and he reckoned they would all assume that a closed warded door was him spending
time with Draco.

“Okay,” Hermione frowned.

“Did you want me to bring snacks or something?” he asked, getting up.

“No, that’s—”

A pop cut Hermione off and Harry rolled his eyes as one of the Malfoy house elves appeared.
It was Zizi and she was as enthusiastic as Dobby when it came to helping Harry. He
suspected that she had been cleaning some part of the house when he was not paying
attention. Kreacher had long since passed away so any maintenance was done by Harry. His
house keeping abilities apparently were not up to her standards.

“Is Master Harry wanting Zizi to make snacks?” the little elf asked, looking hopeful. He
hoped to Godric Hermione noticed the expression.

“No thanks, Zizi,” he said. “You don’t actually work for me, remember?”

“Zizi is a free house-elf! Zizi can be serving Master Harry and Master Draco if she wants to,”
the elf said, tugging on the small robes she wore when she said ‘free’.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, with an amused smile. “But don’t get carried away.”

“Zizi never gets carried away, Master Harry,” she piped before turning to make whatever it
was she was going to make, and probably too much of it.

“Of course not,” he nodded, guiding a baffled Hermione out of the kitchen. “Oh, and nothing
with ginger. The children are here and Al has allergies.”

“The snacks will not be having any ginger,” Zizi nodded.

“You’re using one of Malfoy’s house elves?” Hermione asked incredulously, once they were
heading up to the ground floor.

“No, Zizi sort of forces me to allow her to do things, or does them when I’m not looking,” he
corrected. “I caught her cleaning the loo once.”

“Even so,” Hermione said, glancing back to the kitchen.

“It’s not as if I’ve been able to stop her,” he said. “She’s like Dobby reincarnate, except she’s
sassier and less worshiping.”

“She did sound a bit pushy,” Hermione frowned.

“Anyway, getting back on track,” he said, casting a Muffiliato at the door. “I honestly don’t
think I have answers that would help you understand this any more than I do.”

.:.:.:.

If Harry said he did not have conflictions about the raid he was on, he would be lying. Auror
Ackles had a case involving the smuggling of illegal potions and somehow evidence against
Draco had been found. It had been almost two years since the two of them had spent any time
together and Harry doubted that this would be one of those run-ins that they could savour.

Now, Harry was not actually there when Ackles had surprised Draco with the warrant and
news that the grounds and the vineyard were already being searched but he was there when
Draco was waiting for them to leave the premises. The blond stiffened and his face went
cold. If his knuckles had not already been white from clenching his fists, then they were now.

Harry looked away from him and reported to Ackles before leaving. It did not at all help that
they had found nothing to support the evidence that they supposedly had. He should not have
felt guilty about doing his job but he did.

“Malfoy looks pissed,” Ron said, glancing behind them. “Reckon he didn’t expect to see us,
did he?”

“I reckon he didn’t,” Harry said.

---

“What the bloody fuck was that?” Draco yelled.

Harry had gone to the vineyard once he knew all the Aurors had left. He knew Draco would
want to check how much damage they had done. The man had not said anything, only
Apparated them to some old cottage and then let loose.

“The hell are you yelling at me for?” he asked. “I came back to apologise.” And now that he
thought about it, he did not have anything to apologise about.

“What were you doing raiding my properties in the first place, Potter?” Draco asked. “And at
all hours of the night too! The lot of you couldn’t wait until a decent hour to barge into the
Manor and harass us?”

“That wasn’t harassment,” he clarified. “We were following evidence and the evidence led to
you. They didn’t want to risk you finding out about the warrant and covering your tracks.
And for fucks sake, it’s not as if I’m the Auror leading the case! I was following orders.”

“What evidence?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“What evidence?” Draco bit out.

“I’m not working the case,” he repeated. “I don’t know any specifics.”

“Harry,” Draco snapped.

“I. Don’t. Know,” he repeated.

“This is just fucking brilliant,” Draco muttered, turning away from him.

“It’s not as if we found anything anyway,” he said. “If we had—”

“If you had?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Yes, if,” he said.

“Really, Harry, I would have expected you to go with something more along the lines of ‘You
don’t have anything to hide,’” Draco said. “Were you expecting to find something?”

“I don’t know, Draco,” he answered honestly. “We haven’t exactly been in contact. Merlin
knows what’s happened since then and it’s not as if you don’t dabble in potions.”

“All those fucking years and you don’t know?” Draco asked, stepping up to him. “Really?”

“There was evidence, Draco. What would you—”

All right, so maybe Harry should have known Draco might have hit him considering the
conversation he had wanted to have was more along the lines of an argument. He should also
have left after that instead of engaging the blond because he should have known that when
one of them finally managed to pin the other down, they would forget that they had been
keeping distance between them for a reason.

Their lips crashed together and neither of them seemed to care much about the way they were
bruising their lips or biting at each other too sharply. They pushed and they shoved and they
grabbed and they pulled, caught somewhere between wrestling and frotting against one
another. Draco managed to get Harry on his stomach and tugged his trousers down before
Harry felt the man’s cock sliding between his cheeks roughly.

“Fuck,” he swore, when Draco lay flush against him and held his arms down.

Harry bucked underneath Draco and started when he felt the lubrication charm slicken his
arse. He made no complaints, only arched back and snapped at Draco to ‘hurry the fuck up
already’. Draco burned inside of him and Harry squirmed in discomfort. Once the man
started to really go at him though, everything was heat and pleasure and Draco.

When Harry found himself panting on the floor, arse raw and Draco still on top of him, he
remembered that they had their families to go back to, but damn if he had not missed the feel
of the other man, his smell, him.
“Shit,” he groaned, squirming and pushing Draco off of him.

Draco got up and wordlessly began doing up his trousers. They had not even managed to get
their fucking clothes off for Merlin’s sake.

Harry pulled his trousers up and did not wait around to be thrown out.

.:.:.:.

“Dad, James is being an arse,” Albus said, peering into the drawing room.

“He’s being a what?” he asked, giving his youngest son a pointed look.

“A prat...?” Albus tried. “He won’t help me with my Defence essay.”

“I’ll talk to him once I’ve finished my meeting with Mr. Zabini,” Harry said. “Who you
haven’t acknowledged as yet.”

Albus frowned and looked to the other man. “Afternoon,” he mumbled.

“Good afternoon,” Zabini nodded. The man looked amused at Albus’ reluctance.

“Mum doesn’t like you,” Albus said.

Harry shot him a stern look that prompted a mumbled apology.

Zabini only smirked at that. “I can’t imagine why,” he said.

“Al, go and finish up the rest of your homework in the meanwhile,” Harry said. “And next
time, don’t wait until the last minute.”

When the boy left, Zabini went right back to business.

“Now, about the matrimonial home,” Zabini said.

“She can have it,” he shrugged, and continued speaking before he could hear any sort of
protest. “I’ve got Grimmauld and she doesn’t have a flat. Gin would have to stay with her
parents or one of her brothers for a while and if we get shared custody none of those places
have enough room for three children and finding somewhere suitable would just be
expensive. She can have it.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” Zabini nodded, scribbling away.

“This isn’t fun,” he said, making an encompassing gesture on ‘this’.

“This is why you aren’t an attorney. I’m having all sorts of fun,” the man said. “Now, is there
anything specific you want to claim from the marriage? And I still think the figures for
spousal support are a bit over the top. You’ll doubtless be paying child support. That’s
mandatory, and you have three children together. It’ll add up if you don’t get shared custody.
And based on what I’ve seen of her income figures, she doesn’t need that many galleons from
you. Plus, you’re letting her keep the house. It’s not as if she’s going to have rent to pay.
And we aren’t Muggles. Once we own a piece of land, we own it and there’s no land tax to
pay.”

“Are we really going to go and have that argument all over again?” he asked, picking up a
scone from the tray Zizi had brought in earlier.

“I’m doing most of the talking so don’t complain,” Zabini said. “And you’ve got a baby on
the way. Who, I must point out, will add to your expenses. Now, your wife and her attorney
might point out that the Malfoy’s have more money than they know what to do with but that
is beside the point. Draco isn’t going to sit down and pay for everything on his own and you
wouldn’t let him do that anyway.

“Four children, Potter. That’s expensive. If it wasn’t for the black hair, I’d say you were the
Weasley in the marriage.”

---

As Harry sat in the drawing room with the children, Al and James watching Doctor Who on
telly and Lily reading, he heard Zabini’s voice listing out all of the things his galleons would
go towards. Hogwarts education, Ginny, tertiary education, child support, clothes, texts,
another wand, brooms, gifts, hospital fees (he had two boys—there were bound to be
accidents somewhere), all everyday living expenses.

He was rich, yes, but Gin knew that and was counting on it. Harry’s Ministry pay check was
nowhere near large enough for him to maintain that wealth if she demanded enough money
from him though. He would be broke by the time he had to retire.

“You all right, Dad?” Lily asked, putting her book down and watching him.

“I’m fine, Lils,” he smiled.

“You don’t look fine,” she said.

“Maybe he’s worried about his boyfriend,” James sneered. “I’m surprised we haven’t seen
him waltzing around like he owns the place.”

“James, do not get started on that again,” he said.

He was glad he and Draco were already so used to sneaking around that it was not too much
of a task to have the blond floo to his room in the nights, when the children were sleeping and
he had warded the door. Harry would have gone to the Manor instead of having Draco going
back and forth but he did not want to leave the children alone in the event that something
went awry.

“Of course, Dad’s going to worry,” Lily said chidingly. “Mr. Malfoy’s pregnant with his baby.
He’s supposed to fret over whether or not everything’s fine.”

Seriously, where did Harry and Ginny get Lily from?

“He’s supposed to fret over his family,” James said stubbornly.

“I do,” he said, turning his head to look at James. “And my family includes the baby, your
family too. Because he or she will be your sibling.” In case it’s slipped your notice.

“Half,” James muttered.

“Still a sibling,” Albus said, with his eyes fixed on the telly. The boy blinked and sat up.
“Wait, does this mean Scorpius and I are like brothers now or something?”

“... No, not technically,” he said carefully, feeling out the words, because Albus’ question was
a bit of a tough one. “You’ll share a brother or sister though...”

Albus sat back and hummed thoughtfully. Harry could already see the gears turning in the
boy’s mind as he tried to decided whether or not things were still bad or if they were better
when he looked at it from his new perspective.

“What are you going to do once you’ve left Mum for real, once the divorce is final?” James
asked suddenly. “Are you going to visit us once a week or disappear altogether? That’s what
Jasmine’s dad did.”

“No, no,” he answered, getting up to walk over to James. “I wouldn’t just abandon you three
and leave your mother to care for you alone. When the divorce is settled, the custody
arrangements will hopefully work out so that we have shared custody of the three of you. You
would spend time with me and your mother. Godric, James, you should know I love the three
of you too much to leave you alone.”

“No, I don’t know,” James said, looking away from him. He was not storming off though so
that was a change. “I thought I knew you would never cheat on Mum and you did. So, I can’t
really know anything, can I?”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I messed up, royally,” he admitted.
James looked at him as if he did not really know how much he had fucked things up. “But
nothing is going to change the fact that I love you, all of you. I want to watch you grow and I
want to be there for you, support you—even if you don’t want me to. You’re my children,
and I don’t think you understand how much that means I care about you.”

“Then why did you do it, Dad?” James asked desperately.

“I—” Harry paused and wet his lips. Merlin, his children knew how to ask difficult questions.
“James, that’s—It had nothing to do with the way I feel about you, any of you—” he added,
looking at the rest of his children “—Who I—My feelings for you are separate and apart from
those I have for Ginny, or Draco, or anyone I might see in the future if I do—”

The Floo flared and chimed and Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m going to answer that,” he said. “But I’m going to come right back, all right? So long as
it isn’t a medical emergency.”
“... Whatever,” James shrugged, picking at his trousers. Harry was glad to note that there was
less bite behind it.

He went over to the Floo and answered the call. “Bulstrode,” he greeted, leaning on the
fireplace and staring down at her. Floo did not do anything for her features or her short
cropped hair. “Is everything all right?”

“Technically, yes,” she said, which meant that physically Draco was fine; he was just in a
mood that could range from overly excited to utterly distressed.

“Listen, Bulstrode, I’m in the middle of something with the children right now,” he said
carefully. She was not Parkinson and would not get upset at him before he finished speaking
but he wanted the fact that he was legitimately busy to get across to Draco instead of it being
misread as him ignoring the man. “If this isn’t an emergency—”

“It isn’t,” she cut in, giving him a clinical glance over. “He’s just a bit frazzled, is all. I can
appease him, eventually.” She gave him that look they had taken to sharing when Draco was
being particularly absurd.

“I’ll stop by when I—”

“I recommend you take a nap when you’re done,” Bulstrode said. “Healer’s orders, Potter.
You look like a train hit you.”

“Noted,” he nodded, before shutting down the Floo and going back to the children.

James seemed unnecessarily surprised that Harry actually had not run off to Malfoy Manor
and Harry was suddenly glad that he had not. It was going to take some work but Harry was
hopeful that they would all leave Grimmauld with a few issues cleared up. He would not be
able to sort everything out in the two nights he had left with the children but it looked like
things would not be completely hopeless between them.

.:.:.:.

Being that Harry was at St. Mungo’s, the last person he had expected to see was Draco.
Imagine his surprise when the blond stepped into the lift to go down to the lobby. They had
not spoken to one another since the night of the raid (which was how Harry chose to think of
that night, mostly) and the air became thick with an uncomfortable tension the moment their
eyes had locked.

“What are you—”

“Astoria’s prenatal check up,” Draco said, looking anywhere but at Harry. He did not mind
though, he was doing much of the same. “You?”

“Nearly had my leg flayed,” he shrugged.

Ackles had led another raid and this time they had found the actual bloke. Well, organisation
would be more accurate. Harry might have been mildly distracted by the pang of regret he
had been subjected to when they had found the culprits. He had not really thought Draco had
had anything to do with the smuggling ring but he had not been wholly convinced that the
blond was innocent.

Draco had been right to be upset. Harry should have known. It was not as if their friendship
had been frivolous.

“Nearly had your—” Draco stopped himself and shook his head but Harry did not miss the
worry that had thoroughly coated the words.

“Damn it. Draco, I—” he sighed and waved the words away. Being near Draco was not a
good thing.

“... What?” Draco prodded, as the lift slowed to a halt.

“... Miss you,” he barely whispered, swallowing and chancing a glance at the other man.

The doors opened and they stepped out so those that waited could get onto the lift.

“Likewise...” Draco said quietly, when Harry had given up on receiving a response.

Harry realised then that he had been holding his breath for a reply.

“Did you want to—” Draco did not finish the question, just shook his head dismissively.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, it had been meant for himself but it was good he had said it out loud.

Draco glanced around and sighed. “I know. Never—”

“Where?” he asked, despite himself.

“... The cottage,” Draco said.

Harry remembered where it was. “We really shouldn’t...”

“... When?”

“After midnight,” he said, looking at Draco now.

The man nodded and they went their separate ways.

---

Harry told himself he would not go later, not with James in his crib and Ginny expecting their
second in a few months, and he almost did not.

It was nearly one when Harry succumbed to the flashes of blond hair and grey-blue eyes and
pale, narrow hips and rosy, smirking lips and the memories of heat and laughter.

.:.:.:.
Since Harry had the children last over the hols, he carried them to King’s Cross and Ginny
met them there. Things were still a little awkward and James was still a bit touchy about
everything, but overall Harry would say that some ruffled feelings had been smoothed and
hopefully his progress would not be undone during their time apart, especially since the
media published rumour-filled articles whenever they spotted Harry, Draco or Ginny in
public.

The children chattered and held onto their carry-on luggage while Harry packed their trunks
into the cargo of the train.

“Mum,” he heard Lily say, and glanced behind him to see Ginny walking over with her arms
extended and the bright smile that he no longer had the privilege of seeing directed at him.

Harry packed the rest of the trunks away before turning to greet her.

“Gin,” he nodded, keeping his expression pleasant.

“Harry,” she said politely, barely glancing at him. “Did you make sure they packed all their
things?”

“I did,” he nodded, hoping she did not go and ask him about every minute detail.

“And—”

“Rose! Hugo!” Lily chirped, waving enthusiastically at her cousins and causing Ron and
Hermione to change course and head in their direction.

Well, if Ron finally does hit me, I’ll have more than enough witnesses, he thought, as he tried
not to look too nervous. He had not had an actual conversation with the man since the break
room.

He was not too surprised that Ron greeted Ginny and the children heartily and only spared
him a twitch of the brow, which to be honest, Harry reckoned he was imagining because Ron
knew how to hold a grudge, like in 4th year.

Except this time he has a legitimate reason to be upset at me.

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione said, after she was done with everyone else.

“Hermione,” he smiled, because how could he not? She had just proved to him that she was
more or less all right with speaking to him outside of the confines of his home, which was
more than he could say for most people he knew. “Ron.”

With a nudge from Hermione, Ron nodded vaguely in his direction. Things did not really
have time to get unbearably awkward between them though because , one, people had begun
to notice them and mutter all sorts of things and, two, the children decided to intervene.
Harry barely took note of the paparazzi that took pictures nearby because he had reached a
point where he could ignore them once they were not swarming.

“I reckon we should go on the train now, yeah?” Albus suggested, looking at everyone.
“Yeah, if you want to get a carriage together, I reckon that’s a good idea,” he nodded.

They said their good-byes to the children at that. Rose and Hugo waved shyly at Harry, no
doubt because they were torn between their father’s cold behaviour and their mother’s
amicability. Lily, sweetheart that she was, bore with having her father give her a hug and a
kiss on the cheek. Harry had to settle for squeezing his sons’ shoulders and managed to get
away with ruffling James’ hair, Al caught on and ducked away at the last minute.

Before the children managed to board the train though, the paparazzi went mad. Harry turned
around to see Draco and Greengrass swarmed by cameras, which was not surprising since a
pregnant man travelling with his ex-wife was bloody rare. He reckoned Scorpius was there
too but the boy was too short to spot through the thick of the crowd.

They did not seem to be making much headway and while no one seemed to be getting too
close to Draco, it was still a little worrying.

“You lot get on the train,” he said to the children, prompting them to continue boarding.

“He’s fine, Harry,” Ginny said stiffly. “Greengrass is with him. You’ll just cause a bigger
scene.”

“That’s not particularly what I’m worried about, Gin,” Harry said. “You should be able to
understand.”

He saw her huff and turn away before he went over to Draco.

Harry pushed his way through the crowd, paparazzi and overly curious bystanders, to get to
Draco. Once they realised it was him, though, they seemed to just move away, either to flash
their camera or just get away. When he got to Draco, he saw that one of the house elves,
Knobby, was rather effectively keeping the blond out of reach with a shield charm while the
man cradled his stomach with one hand and held onto Scorpius with the other. Greengrass
was there glaring politely, and really Harry had no idea how she managed that, at the people
in their way and trying to shove them back.

He and Draco glanced at one another before he began clearing a path to the nearest carriage
door for them to walk to. He ignored the onslaught of questions and kept his mouth shut at
the snide remarks. Eventually the station security intervened, because other parents and
students were being inconvenienced, and the media backed off a bit.

Knobby snapped his fingers and Scorpius’ things were set neatly into the cargo hold. Harry
stood a little off to the side so that Draco and Greengrass could say their good-byes to
Scorpius without feeling too awkward about him being there.

He risked a glance over to where Ginny and the others were and noted that she and Ron did
not look particularly pleased. Actually, Hermione did not either but she and Ron seemed to be
in a bit of a squabble. Another glance made him see that the children were poking their heads
out of their carriage watching him.
“Mr. Potter,” Scorpius said, pulling Harry away from his glance that had somehow morphed
into a gaze.

“Scorpius, hullo,” he said. He was not quite sure where he stood with the boy. Scorpius could
be utterly upset at him for all he knew. He had gotten the boy’s father pregnant and ruined a
friendship, after all.

“... Thank you,” Scorpius said. “For the help just now.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded, trying not to show his amusement at how much effort it
seemed to take the child. It reminded him of the first few times Draco had ever thanked him
for anything, except this time he was able to accept the gratitude with a bit more grace,
instead of stammering like an idiot.

“Bye, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius nodded curtly, before turning for the train and waving to his
parents.

“Well, I’d say that was more than enough excitement for one day,” Greengrass said,
straightening her robes before looking at Harry. “I almost didn’t expect you to come over and
help us considering your audience. Good on you, Potter.”

“You expected me to just stand there and watch?” he asked.

Greengrass shrugged one shoulder minutely.

“Yes, of course, because I’m a terrible person,” he nodded. “You all right?” he asked Draco.
The blond was just standing there quietly and glancing around. He looked uncomfortable and
he was cradling his stomach protectively.

“I’m fine,” Draco said, in his I’m-not-fine voice. “Can we leave now? Scorpius is safely on
the train and his things are packed in cargo.”

“Of course,” Greengrass nodded, looping her arm through Draco’s.

“Do you want me to come with—” Harry began.

“Actually, I’ve got to meet Daphne soon,” Greengrass said, unlocking her arm from Draco’s.
“Would you mind terribly if I left you in Potter’s care?”

“I’m not five, Astoria,” Draco responded, sounding a bit disappointed.

“And my care is perfectly fine,” Harry said, moving towards the man.

“I’ll take that to mean that I can go,” Astoria smiled, pecking Draco’s cheek and nodding at
Harry before she went about her business.

Harry would have said bye to the children once more but they were well inside the train when
he turned back around. Instead he just let Knobby Apparate him and Draco to the Manor.

---
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Harry asked, watching Draco sip at a mug of peppermint tea.

“I’m home, so yes,” Draco nodded, setting the mug down on the coffee table.

“Don’t like crowds, do you?” he asked. “Hermione was like that. Made her anxious.”

“It’s not really the crowd itself that does it,” muttered Draco.

“Hmmm?”

Draco shook his head and gave Harry an odd look before turning away.

“You want to ask me something, don’t you?” he asked, turning and leaning back on the arm
of the couch so that he could watch Draco.

Draco glanced at him and then moved to sit between his legs, back to chest.

“You know, if you wanted to cuddle you could just ask,” he smiled, looping his arms around
Draco.

“Shut up,” Draco muttered. “It’s not that.”

“No?” he teased. “Because it looks like it.”

“No,” Draco said, taking one of Harry’s hands and moving it over his stomach. “You just—
You feel safe.”

“Safe?” he repeated.

“That’s why I didn’t like the crowd,” Draco said quietly. “I—I was bloody paranoid about
someone coming at me and—I want this baby, Harry, and I’m all too aware that a lot of
people are against this pregnancy, against me, my past. And... Some of the things I witnessed
during the war are making my imagination far too colourful when I’m worrying over
someone trying to jeopardize this or imagine something going wrong.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you or the baby,” he reassured. “And neither is
Knobby. Or Zabini, or Bulstrode, or Parkinson, or the friend Greengrass, or the ex-wife
Greengrass and Scorpius looks—”

“I get it,” Draco said. “... I hear you had a family dilemma the other night.”

“Long story short, I had to reassure the children that I wouldn’t leave them and that I’ll
always love them.”

“Were you successful?” Draco asked.

“I like to think I w—” he stopped when felt something flutter under his palm. “Did you feel
that?”
“Did I—” Draco sighed and shook his head. “Honestly, Harry? If you could feel it, then I
would think I could too.”

“Did our baby just kick?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips and excitement fluttering up
his spine.

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “That’s actually why Millicent flooed you the other day. I thought I felt
the kicks a few days prior and then nothing. I might have gotten worried and panicked a bit.”

He could not stop himself from grinning when he felt another kick. “Absolutely brilliant,” he
murmured, kissing Draco’s temple.

They sat and simply held the blond’s stomach for a while before Draco’s libido kicked in.
Harry was more than able to give Draco a thorough shag this time around.

.:.:.:.

“Give it here, you greedy sod,” Harry said, gesturing for the wine glass.

“One day, I’m going to slip something from the apothecary in here so I don’t have to put up
with this sort of treatment,” Draco said, bringing the glass to Harry’s lips.

“Or you could just stop coming here,” Harry pointed out, taking a sliver of meat to Draco’s
mouth.

“Apart from the fact that I own the property, I think we’ve both tried that and failed rather
miserably,” the blond said, before opening his mouth for the meat.

“That’s too true,” he nodded, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. “How is the
apothecary doing anyway?”

“Well enough,” Draco said, having a sip of wine. “Seems everyone’s beginning to forget the
groundless raid we were subjected to.”

“I didn’t actually have anything to do with heading that, remember?” he reminded the man,
poking him in the side and enjoying the way he squirmed against him.

The pair was sitting on the parlour floor of the cottage, a soft alpaca area rug underneath
them. Harry was not sure how they had wound up sitting inches apart, so that they were in the
‘v’ of the other’s legs, but he was not complaining. It was comfortable.

“Don’t you start with that,” Draco warned, brushing away the hair that fell over his face.
“And speaking of Aurors, you said you had news.”

Draco’s hair was getting long and Harry found he rather liked it. Unlike his father’s hair,
Draco’s had a slight wave to it that probably came from the Blacks.

“I know I’ve got fantastic hair and I’m flattered you’ve taken notice, but I was hoping you
would actually tell me the news,” Draco said.
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco.

“Mr. Malfoy, considering your record, I doubt that’s any way to speak to the Head Auror,” he
said, before taking the wine glass from Draco’s hand to have a drink while he was gaped at.

“Head Auror?” Draco asked, blinking.

Harry nodded.

“Well, do forgive me for my rudeness,” Draco smiled, before giving him a kiss. “Perhaps I
should make it up to you, Head Auror Potter.”

“But how?” he mused, loving the way Draco made the title sound.

“Up to you,” Draco smirked, feeding Harry some of the meat.

“I’ll have you make up for it later,” he said, undoing Draco’s shirt. “Let’s finish catching up
for now. It’s been a while after all.” And it had been.

At the moment, Ginny was pregnant with their third, hoping it was a girl this time, and that
meant Harry was spending less time with Draco so that he could help with their two
hyperactive sons and take on most the cooking, since she could not stand the smell.

“You can talk whilst I’m on display?” Draco asked, picking up the wine glass. “Shocking.”

“What’s shocking is that you’re still being rude,” he said.

“Perhaps if my mouth was preoccupied with something else...” Draco suggested, sipping the
wine.

“Since you’re so eager to right your wrongs, I reckon I should let you,” he said, reclining.

“And how will I right these wrongs, Head Auror?” Draco husked.

“By putting that mouth of yours to use,” he said. “And your tight little arse as well.”

With a smirk Draco leaned down to Harry’s trousers. He palmed the fabric before undoing
the button and pulling down the zipper. The blond nuzzled Harry through his pants as he
slowly pulled the trousers down.

“No stalling, Mr. Malfoy,” he breathed.

“Of course,” Draco murmured, before Harry was freed of his pants and his half erect cock
was sucked in.

Draco coaxed him to hardness and moaned when Harry was hard and heavy in his mouth. He
bobbed and he sucked and he watched Harry as he focused his attentions on the sensitive
head, smiling before he bore down until Harry could feel Draco’s throat around him. Draco
was not a fan of being throat fucked so Harry did his best to stop his hips from pumping and
allowed the man to control the pace. It was a difficult thing and eventually it became too
much and he had to stop him.

“Want my cock in your arse,” he groaned, “Now.”

“Lube,” Draco said, getting up to shuck his trousers and pants. Harry muttered a lubrication
charm. “Thank you.”

“Just get on with it,” Harry said, watching as Draco turned around.

“Now who’s eager?” Draco asked, as he knelt over Harry, back towards him.

Draco stretched himself and Harry gave himself long strokes as he watched. Finally Draco sat
back and took him in. He moaned as he watched and felt Draco work his way down until
Harry was deep inside of him.

“Mmm,” he hummed at the little gyrations of Draco’s hips.

“Good fit?” Draco teased, clenching his arse cheeks.

“A little tight actually,” Harry smirked, rocking his hips upwards.

Draco rode him slowly before picking up the pace and putting his well toned thighs to use,
Harry snug inside of him and gliding along his inner walls. Harry relished the keening noises
that escaped the other man. Draco brought his hips down hard and ground them before
wiggling a bit. Harry swore and pulled Draco back to feel their skin slide together. Draco
whimpered as they writhed together, his hair clinging to skin from the film of sweat that
covered him.

---

“Cast a cleaning charm on the rug before any stains set in,” Draco mumbled.

“There, happy?” Harry asked, casting a Tergeo on the rug and themselves.

“Very,” Draco nodded. “My rug is clean and I’ve been wonderfully fucked. I’ll sleep well
tonight.”

Harry chuckled and brushed some of the hair out of Draco’s face. “How are you sleeping, by
the way?” he asked.

“What sort of pillow talk is this, Harry?” Draco asked, rolling over to face him.

“We could always talk about the children that have recently discovered their ability to scream
while they run,” he suggested.

“Let’s not,” Draco said. “I had to chase Scorpius down today when he ran off with some of
my papers. Merlin alone knows how he got them... Perhaps his magic is already starting to
act up.”
Harry chuckled at the thought of Draco running after his son. “So, how have you been
sleeping?” he repeated.

“Well,” Draco answered. “I’ve hardly had to take any Dreamless Sleep this past month. I
don’t understand why I’m the one who’s still having nightmares.”

“I still have them,” Harry said.

“But not as often,” Draco muttered. “I know. Lucky bastard.”

“I’m the last person I’d call lucky,” he scoffed.

“Considering the life you had and the life you have now, I’d say otherwise,” Draco disagreed.
“You, Harry James Potter, are simply overflowing with luck.”

“Do you want to stick around so that some will rub off on you?” he teased.

“Definitely,” Draco smiled, leaning down and kissing him.

.:.:.:.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t have shared custody of the children,” Harry said, as
calmly as he was able to. “We’re both fit to be parents and both our jobs are demanding and
time consuming so it’s not as if you can say I won’t have time for them. This doesn’t have to
turn into a huge debate the way the rest of the divorce did.”

“I don’t want them spending that much time with you and your home wrecker of a boyfriend.
You think I don’t know you two are looking for a house?” Ginny asked coldly. “You can have
weekends.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said. “Friday night to Monday morning I’m allowed to spend time with my
children. Two and a half days, how lovely.”

“Mr. Potter, my client is simply concerned about the psychological effects that being near you
and your lover would cause the children,” Lawson said diplomatically. “Not to mention the
strained past between her family and his. We’re all aware that the Weasley-Malfoy
relationship is not the most amiable.”

Zabini made a small movement that told Harry he should be quiet and let him handle it.

“Forgive me but wasn’t your client willing to allow their son, Albus Potter, to socialize with
and visit Mr. Malfoy’s son, Scorpius Malfoy? Why the renewed animosity regarding a blood
feud that no one had been participating in for years now?” Zabini asked. “And with support
and reassurance from both our clients, the emotional strain that seeing Mr. Potter with Mr.
Malfoy might cause can be significantly lessened. I daresay that witnessing exceptionally
negative interactions between their parents could be more harmful for the children.”

“One could argue that Mr. Malfoy may have manipulated your client into a relationship due
to the bad blood between the families, and let us not forget the enmity between him and your
client prior to said relationship,” Lawson countered. “It could have been an effort to
jeopardize their relationship and their lives.”

“Attitudes can change, Mr. Lawson. Grudges can be forgotten and actions forgiven,” Zabini
said. “Do you really believe my client’s lover would wait fifteen years to do that? And
reasons as to why Mr. Malfoy and my client began a relationship are beside the point.

“Mr. Potter has been a constant in his children’s lives over the years and he cares for them
deeply. He has, on numerous occasions since the separation, reassured them of his love and
the fact that the situation is not their fault but his own. He is just as concerned for them as
your client is and denying him equal custody seems to only be a result of hurt feelings rather
than worry over his ability as a parent.”

---

“You’re staring,” Harry muttered, pulling his glasses off to rub a hand over his face. “I
thought brunets weren’t your cup of tea.”

“They aren’t,” Greengrass admitted. “And I actually prefer coffee. Are you all right, Potter?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, sinking back into the chair. Just upset with this bloody custody
battle.

“If you’re going to lie about it, try to be more convincing,” she said.

“How is it that you and Draco settled your divorce and custody agreement so easily?” he
blurted out. Greengrass blinked at him before a smile crept onto her face.

“Weasley is giving you a difficult time, I see” she said. “It helped that the only problem we
had was that we couldn’t quite get along romantically. I didn’t know about you and I
certainly didn’t have a pregnancy to upset me. I also had no reason to worry over Scorpius, or
someone trying to replace me in what I thought was a happy marriage. There was no reason
for me to want to spite him. Otherwise I might not have agreed to shared custody. I would
have rather enjoyed the child support figures you can get without it.”

“It was a happy marriage,” he muttered stubbornly, as he wondered if Ginny was really so
upset at him that she would rather spite him and take advantage of his vaults than allow the
children to have more time with him.

“Was it now?” Greengrass asked, resting her chin on her hand. “Potter, I don’t think you
would have had such an enduring relationship with my ex-husband if you were satisfied with
your marriage.”

“I was,” he said, looking at her now. “I had Ginny, the children, a home, a—Why am I even
having this conversation with you?”

“Because you need someone to talk to and Millicent doesn’t appreciate being interrupted by
tardiness once she’s started an examination, so Draco isn’t available to chat,” she reasoned.
There was a flicker of something in her expression that made him think she left a few things
unsaid but he had not put his glasses back on so he could not quite interpret it.

“Yes, but for me to be speaking about this with you of all people,” he sighed. Something was
cosmically wrong about that. She was Draco’s ex-wife and she had been cheated on by Harry.
She should be one of the last people listening to him.

“I’ve no hard feelings,” she shrugged. “Perhaps if Draco and I had gotten married because we
were in love I would. As it was, we did it because it was comfortable and we were good for
each other, at the time. For now, just let Blaise help you along and stay well behaved in front
of the mediator.”

Harry nodded and mumbled a ‘thank you’.

“Just don’t tell everyone I’ve been nice to you,” she warned.

“You’ve got appearances to keep up after all,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I do, I do,” she nodded.

Harry realised then why he had been speaking to Greengrass. He desperately wanted one of
his friends to speak to and he did not want to cause Hermione any trouble with Ron by
contacting her, and Greengrass knew he needed that.

“There’s less awkwardness in here than I’m used to,” Draco said, walking into the room. He
was a little over 6 months now and a bit anxious since he was past the half way marker.
“What’s going on?”

“Astoria was being friendly,” he said, earning himself a glare and a shush.

“I was being considerate. There’s a difference,” she said. “Anyway, so long as everything’s
fine, I’m just going to take another photograph of Draco and take my leave before I fall
victim to another bout of Hufflepuffishness. And Potter, don’t you dare tell anyone else.”

Once Greengrass was satisfied with the photo, she took her leave and Bulstrode left not long
after.

“So, what was bothering you so much that you and Astoria had a less than neutral
discussion?” Draco asked.

---

The following day Harry was eating lunch at Grimmauld when Hermione bustled into his
kitchen with a stern expression. Apparently he had done something wrong. He just did not
know what it was as yet.

“Hermion—”

“Harry James Potter,” she began, and Harry suddenly knew what it felt like to be Rose and
Hugo. “I told you that you could come to me if something was bothering you and I meant it.”
“What?” he asked confusedly.

“Just because Ronald is too stubborn to speak to you right now doesn’t mean you should stop
yourself from reaching out to me,” she continued. “I can handle him if he gets upset.”

“Oh,” Harry said, finally catching on. “Which one of them told you?” he asked, fighting a
smile. It was amusing to imagine either of the Slytherins contacting Hermione.

“What do you mean ‘which one’?” she frowned.

“I take it that it was Draco then,” he said, shaking his head. It seemed both blonds had fallen
victim to ‘Hufflepuffishness’.

“Who else would it be?” she asked.

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy and I fear I may lose my bollocks if I tell you that a certain
Slytherin was kind to me,” he said.

.:.:.:.

For the better part of two weeks Harry had been at St. Mungo’s. Normally he would gripe
about being on bed rest but in all honesty he had needed it. Not to mention that he doubted he
could help with handling three children, one of which still demanded he pick her up on a
regular basis because walking was for special occasions, those being when her brothers were
not running around so wildly that they would fail to notice she was in their path. It did not
seem fair to have Ginny looking after them and him.

The reason for Harry’s incapacitation was not some malevolent Dark Wizard trying to win
the title of Saviour Killer but a result of the DoM carrying some sort of mysterious artefact,
because they so loved those, into the Ministry without knowing that it was unstable. Or
maybe they had known and hoped that nothing would happen between transporting it from
the atrium to the lower levels. Needless to say something did happen and Harry and a number
of other Ministry workers had been committed to St. Mungos with a mysterious bruising
spreading across wherever they had been touched by the shrapnel from the artefact.

It had been some sort of non-communicable affliction that had prevented nerve signals from
being transmitted between the affected area and the brain. Luckily the shrapnel had only hit
Harry’s legs and the spreading had had to travel up his legs before it reached any major
organs.

Harry had thanked the Founders, even Salazar, for the effectiveness of the St. Mungo’s staff.

After that debacle, the Minister made arrangements for stricter regulations in the DoM and
had spent quite some time trying to resolve the problems the incident had caused. Harry
rather liked this new Minister, Clutterbuck he was called.

“I’m perfectly fine, Gin,” he said, as they stepped out of the floo and she made an
unnecessary fuss when he wobbled. It was the floo. He always wobbled. “The healers
wouldn’t discharge me if I wasn’t.”
“Dad!” James exclaimed, throwing up his arms and running towards him, Al and Lily
following suit. They tended to mimic James nowadays.

“All three of you at once?” he asked, as they clung to him. “I’m glad that Mediwizard
insisted on the few extra days.”

“I miss you,” Lily said, holding her arms up for him to lift her. Harry was not quite sure if his
legs could sustain more than his own weight at the moment.

“I missed you too, pumpkin,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. The boys made a
fuss whenever he tried that with them so he hugged them instead. “But I don’t think I’m
ready to lift you up just yet.”

“Mum?” Lily asked, arms still outstretched.

“Maybe later, Lily,” Ginny said, heading towards the kitchen. “But it’s dinner time. Where’s
Uncle Ron?”

“In the loo,” James said. “I think Aunt Hermione is cooking again.”

Harry suppressed a laugh and got the children to the table while Ginny brought dinner out.
He was glad to be home with his family again. He had missed them even though they visited
him at the hospital. There was one person that he had barely gotten to see though, who had
walked past his room once but never officially visited because it would seem strange.

---

Two weeks after returning home, Harry found time to visit the cottage. Ginny had a weekend-
long team-building trip, and the children were spending the night with Ron and Hermione.
He had contacted Draco but had yet to get a reply so he was not entirely sure if he would be
able to see the blond tonight.

He had nearly fallen asleep in the couch when he heard Draco Apparate inside.

“Draco,” he yawned, stretching. “What time is—”

Harry’s question was cut short when Draco made his way around the couch and kissed him
fiercely. Harry moaned and pulled the man down on top of him. Merlin, it had been at least a
month since he had been able to taste that tongue, feel Draco against him, and look at him.
By the time the man pulled away, they were gasping for air. Draco’s hair was wonderfully
mussed and his lips were swollen. Harry had missed this.

“Well, hello to you too,” he breathed, a smirk on his lips.

He did not expect the slap to the shoulder a moment later.

“Ow, what?” he frowned.

“You bloody git,” Draco said, glaring at him. “How long have you been out of hospital now?
And you’ve only just contacted me. They’ve been tight lipped about you and you know it.
The only time I got to see you was when I visited Theo and you looked dreadful.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t think you were expecting word from me unless it was to meet up, and I
didn’t have a chance until now,” he explained.

Draco glowered at him and then left for the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Harry
blinked at that before getting up and trying the door. It was locked.

“Draco, you’re being melodramatic,” he sighed.

“Am I really?” the blond asked from behind the door.

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“I’m sorry but that sounded like a yes to me,” Draco said.

All right so Draco was upset that Harry had not contacted him sooner. He reckoned he could
have sent him a message saying that he was home but it was not exactly a big deal. It wasn’t
like Harry had almost died or—Except he sort of did almost die. Or he could have if the
healers had not figured things out so quickly and if he had been hit almost anywhere else, like
some of the other unfortunate victims.

Who Draco would have heard about, he thought. And the healers really had been discreet
with Harry’s information so for all Draco had known, he could have been suffering terribly
for the two weeks he was in hospital and the time up until he had sent word to the Ministry,
and thus the media, that he was alive and well and would be returning to work.

“Draco,” he said gently.

Silence.

“I’ve thought about it,” he said. “And no, you aren’t being melodramatic.”

More silence.

“And I’m sorry for worrying you,” he added. “And no, I’m not just saying it so you’ll open
the door... Draco?”

A few seconds later, Harry was let into the room.

“You’re an idiot,” were the first words out of Draco’s mouth. “But I knew some time to think
would do you well.”

“Treating me like I’m Scorpius, are you?” he asked.

Draco gave him one of those scathing looks Ginny gave the children when they were pushing
their luck and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Arse,” Draco muttered, turning away to sit on the bed. “Do you have any idea how worried I
was?”
“Sorry, I didn’t know how it looked on your end,” he said, climbing into the bed and lying
down.

“I had no idea what was going on,” Draco grumbled. Harry pulled the man down to lie beside
him and was met with reluctance. “It’s not as if I could walk up to your family and friends
and just ask. Not without having them wonder why I was so bloody interested.”

“I know,” he nodded, pulling Draco closer to him. “Now.”

“...I thought you were going to—” the blond did not finish. He just sighed and rested his
head against Harry’s.

“I didn’t though,” he said.

“You aren’t allowed to die on me, Potter,” Draco said quietly, touching Harry’s jaw.

“I’ll try my best not to,” he smiled, cupping the back of Draco’s neck and bumping their
noses together.

“I mean it,” Draco said.

“Care about me then, I take it?” he murmured, watching for the moment blue-grey eyes
would flicker up to his.

“Shut up,” Draco whispered, glancing up as his thumb slid over Harry’s lips and then, softly,
he kissed him.

Everything after that moment was slow and deliberate. There was a fragility about it that was
intimate, with a delicate sort of passion that was a spot frightening. It made Harry want to
curl his hips in just the right way to have Draco arching underneath him, clutching at him and
gasping his name, locking his legs around Harry as if he never wanted to let him go and his
eyes smouldering so that Harry felt himself grow hot from his gaze.

It was not just sex that night. Honestly, he did not think it was ever ‘just sex’ but it had never
been so much more before. That night, Harry parted ways with Draco feeling terrifyingly raw
and exposed. He felt like they had, quite possibly, made love to one another. Harry was
almost sure that at some point in the night Draco’s eyes had been glistening and he could tell
just how much Draco had missed him. Perhaps it had something to do with his almost dying
and the way it had made their emotions run high.

.:.:.:.

“All right, how about the gold from Gryffindor and the green from Slytherin,” Harry asked.

“Hmmm, change the gold to that daffodil yellow we saw and the green to something with a
bit more yellow mixed in,” Draco murmured, glancing around the unpainted nursery.

“Dark trim?” Harry asked.

“It would match the rest of the house, so yes,” Draco nodded. “And we’re not doing any
murals in here or any rubbish like that. I want something we can take down and replace.
Framed things.”

It had taken some doing but they had found a house that they could both agree on. The house
had enough rooms for all their children and themselves, having six bedrooms in total.
Sometimes during the search, Harry had wondered if just moving into the Manor or one of
the other Malfoy properties would have been easier but he wanted to move in somewhere
neutral, and more homely.

It was a hard thing for him to stay steadfast about though, what with the way the media had
stalked them when word had gotten out. They had had to forgo a few shopping trips for
furniture if they wanted to be able to get anything done and a few times Harry or Draco
would have to carry Hermione or Parkinson respectively. Greengrass had wanted nothing to
do with the fuss but she did have a few snapshots of some minor squabbles.

It was not much of a surprise but decorating a home with a very pregnant Draco Malfoy had
not been an easy task. What they had ended up with was a sort of modern and rustic space
that was homely enough for Harry and minimalist enough for Draco. A number of the rooms
were in earthy shades and the fireplaces were stone rather than brick. The master bedroom
was all dark woods with a rich burnt orange sort of colour that had a red tinge about it, which
meant that the adjoining bathroom was forest green because Harry ‘can’t have all the colours
he wanted’.

There was actually more colour in the house than he had originally expected. If was not the
room itself, it might have been the furniture or maybe one wall a splash of colour while the
rest was fairly neutral. All in all, Harry was pleased. They just had to decorate the nursery,
which was right across from their room.

“Is the Masters having decided on the paint yet?” Zizi asked, poking her head through the
open door. She and Knobby seemed to like painting the house. Harry suspected that they had
paint fights when he and Draco were not looking but it was fine with him so long as they got
the job done.

“We have,” Draco nodded.

Zizi brought the colour samples over and Draco showed her the ones they had chosen before
they wound up in a mild debate about which walls would look best in which colour. After
that Harry left for a meeting with Zabini and Ginny that hopefully would not take long. They
had finally come to an agreement and Ginny had eventually conceded to shared custody. He
suspected Hermione of have a foot in it but that was well and good with him.

---

Harry was officially divorced; he was not sure how he felt about that just yet. There was a bit
of sadness that it was over, and had ended on such terrible terms, but he felt like a part of him
was happy about it and might have even wanted this for some time.

Things were... different.

The nursery was painted and the furniture put in place. They just needed to buy toys and
diapers and such. He had moved his things from Grimmauld to the Malfoy-Potter Abode,
which was the address they had settled on for the floo. Draco was in his third trimester,
twenty-nine weeks along and becoming ever more frustrated that he was still pregnant.

He and Draco had officially moved into the new home and opted not to have a house
warming but to simply stay in and relax. Harry would have greatly appreciated breaking in
the new house with a shag on their very comfortable, larger than he was used to and smaller
than Draco usually liked, bed but the blond was either fairly exhausted or full of nesting
energy and did not particularly want to shag most nights, especially when it took particularly
long to find a position the blond was comfortable in.

Not to mention that Draco’s protruding stomach was feeling particularly cumbersome now.
His back ached from the weight and he was doing more of a waddle than a walk, which
Harry, Greengrass and Parkinson found terribly adorable though Draco did not share their
sentiments.

Along with feeling a bit like a whale, which were Draco’s exact words, the blond’s ankles
were swelling more frequently and really Draco mostly complained to Harry about a lot of
things when he was not oddly excited about everything else, or just plain old anxious.

The children were also finishing the academic year in a few days and would no doubt have to
spend time in the new home. That had Draco a bit flustered and had Harry more than
terrified. The two of them were also concerned about how the concentrated attention on the
baby might affect the other children once Draco had given birth, regardless of the fact that
they knew babies required a lot of attention.

With Draco’s due date approaching, Harry was trying not to guess the sex of the child and
Draco wanted it to be a surprise so they had told Millicent not to tell them. Or Pansy,
because they would definitely find out if she knew. They both seemed to be hoping for a girl.

---

When it was Harry’s turn to have the children, he was more nervous than he had been during
the Easter hols. He was so nervous that, instead of reminding Draco that he should not spend
all his bursts of energy organising the house, he helped in organising the already organised
house. It was terrible and Zizi and Knobby were probably beginning to take offence at the
fact that they quite literally had nothing to do.

The door chimed and Harry hurriedly put the pretzels in the oven and gave Zizi instructions
on when to pull them out. Draco was past having cravings but he liked them and making the
pretzels with him had kept them both occupied and away from casting cleaning charms at
everything.

Harry answered the door, while Draco waddled in from the kitchen, and tried not to look
nervous with his three children in front of him along with his ex-wife and former—but that
would hopefully be resolved—best friend and Hermione. And let him not forget his pregnant
lover that stood somewhere behind him.
He reckoned Ginny had brought Ron for support and that Hermione had tagged along to play
mediator if necessary.

“Hi, come on in,” he greeted, gesturing inside. “Knobby and Zizi will bring your things up.”

Lily gave him a quick hug and Albus and James smiled at him sheepishly while glancing
back at their mother. Harry reckoned they were feeling fairly awkward. The mumbled
greetings he heard being given to Draco were a sure sign that they were. When he turned
back around, Hermione was stepping through the doorway and giving him a somewhat
reassuring smile. Ron and Ginny looked a bit reluctant though.

“Come on, Ron,” Hermione called. “I want to see the house.”

“’Mione—”

“Hullo, Malfoy,” she greeted. Harry had to give it to her for not sounding as awkward as she
could have.

“Granger-Weasley,” Draco said politely, removing a hand from his stomach to shake her
hand. “Good to see you.”

“Are you two going to...?” Harry asked Ron and Ginny.

“Does it look like I have a choice?” Ron asked, before he seemed to remember he and Harry
were not on good terms. He followed Hermione inside and seemed to try to avoid looking at
Draco.

“I really don’t think I should,” Ginny said stiffly. “I just wanted to see them here safely and
remind you to drop them off in a month.”

“I reckon that’s understandable,” he nodded.

“Yeah,” Ginny said. She gave Draco a quick look and then set her eyes on him. “I half
expected you to fight the divorce. Tell me that even though this was happening, we were still
fine and that you still loved me.”

“...” Harry froze and then glanced behind him before speaking. “Gin, you didn’t even talk to
me about applying for the divorce. You just handed the papers over and that seemed pretty
final to me. And... You would have wanted me to stay away from Draco. I don’t think I could
have done that.”

“I thought you would have at least tried,” she said. Honestly Harry had thought he would
have tried as well.

“You would never have taken me back anyway. I know you, Gin,” he said. “And I’m sorry,
but I think that at some point I would have realised that I didn’t want to go back, not after
everything.”

“Good bye, Harry.”

“Good bye, Gin.”

---

After closing the door behind Ginny, stepping into the parlour had been a somewhat surreal
moment. Harry was sure that everyone was a bit uncomfortable. He could see it, and it did
not at all help that Greengrass would be stopping by in about an hour or—

Harry suspected that Greengrass was the force behind the chime he had heard and would
have rolled his eyes if people were not watching him.

“I’ll get it,” he said, heading for the door. Sure enough it was her. “Hey, you. Hullo, Scorpius.
Everyone else has just arrived.”

“Hi,” Greengrass said, with a smug smile as she stepped inside.

“Mr. Potter,” Scorpius nodded, following his mother.

“Oh my, this is everyone, isn’t it?” Greengrass said, waving a hand in greeting. “Hullo,
Draco.”

“You’re early,” Draco said, when she kissed his cheek.

“Masters, the pretzels are being ready,” Zizi said, popping in and out of the room efficiently.

“Still eating those?” Greengrass asked.

“Pickles,” Draco drawled.

“Touché,” Greengrass nodded.

“So, are you two going to give us a tour of the house?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, uh, the kitchen is this way,” Harry said, walking towards the smell of hot, soft pretzels.

Draco, Albus and Hermione all grabbed one before they moved on to the other rooms and
Greengrass took unnecessary snapshots of them every now and then. They tended to linger a
bit in each of the children’s bedrooms as the respective child took their room in.

Ron made a point of barely glancing at the master bedroom. Honestly the only person that
did not look the least bit uncomfortable was Greengrass. She even raised her brows at them
when she realised how comfortable the bed was.

It made him wish he and Ginny could have had such a relaxed relationship after the divorce.
Harry doubted it would happen.

Once they were done with the tour and had found themselves in the parlour, most everyone
sat down, Harry helping Draco into the sofa while Greengrass stared at them in the same way
that Parkinson had once, right before calling them ‘strangely cute’.
“Something to say, Greengrass?” he challenged. The two of them had taken to bothering one
another the way people would expect them to, except without much of the enmity. It was
admittedly fun.

“No,” she lied.

“You have appearances to keep up after all,” he smiled.

“I do, I do,” she sighed. “Anyway, I have to say the house turned out better than I expected.
What with the way you two were fussing.”

“We weren’t fussing,” Harry denied.

“I can tell you that everyone, including my parents, of all people, would agree with Astoria
right now,” Draco drawled.

“We weren’t that bad,” Harry said, as he glanced around the room. There was no one else that
could help his case though.

“Listening to them bicker over names must have been even worse,” Hermione commented.

“I don’t think that I’ve heard them talk about that...” Greengrass said, thinking. “I don’t recall
anyone mentioning it either...”

“Have you already settled on possible names?” Lily asked.

“Yes, we have,” Draco nodded before Harry could answer. “It was the shortest discussion we
had these last few months.”

“The shortest?” Hermione blinked.

“He’s not lying,” Harry said.

He did try not to smile at why it had been their shortest discussion. It had not even been a
discussion really. They had just mentioned the topic, looked at one another, then smiled and
moved on to other things.

“Wait, I don’t understand,” James said, surprisingly. “Based on our names, I would think you
argued for days.”

“Weeks,” Hermione said.

“Months,” Scorpius said.

“Who says they had to argue over it for very long?” Lily asked.

“They just so happened to find the middle ground between names like James and Scorpius?”
Albus asked.
“So, Granger-Weasley, how do you like the house?” Astoria asked, while the children went
off on their own tangent.

“I love it actually,” Hermione said, only taking a moment to recover from the surprise of
being addressed. “Homey, but classy.”

“How about you, Weasley?” Greengrass asked, before she sipped the tea Knobby had set out.

“Me?” Ron asked in shock.

“I’m not sure who else here has that surname,” Greengrass said. “Well, except your wife.”

“... I reckon it’s all right,” he said, watching the witch warily. “Actually, we should probably
go...”

“Already?” Draco asked, gazing steadily at Ron with a hint of a challenge.

“I’ve got work to do,” Ron said stiffly. “Hermione, you ready?”

“I suppose we have stayed a while,” she nodded. She had gotten Ron to stay far longer than
the man had originally intended already, or Harry had expected, so he reckoned she counted it
a victory.

“Thank you,” Harry said, rising. “For coming. Both of you.”

Ron nodded to him and Draco as he got up.

“Of course,” Hermione smiled, before turning to Draco and looking at him a bit sheepishly.
“Is it... alright if I...?”

Harry could say with certainty that everyone paying attention was surprised Hermione had
asked, and even more surprised when Draco said yes—technically he nodded but it was
probably because he was rendered speechless.

It was a heart-warming moment for Harry, to see the smile that crept onto Hermione’s face
when she touched Draco’s stomach and how he could see Draco thinking that she was not so
bad after all. It made him hug her all the tighter when they were at the door and he did not
quite care if Ron saw how happy he was about the pregnancy.

“You’re very fond of each other,” Hermione murmured, before pulling away. Harry did not
think he and Draco were particularly romantic around others so he had to wonder at what she
had seen to prompt the comment. “See you, Harry.”

.:.:.:.

“I’m so relieved you never got pregnant back when we didn’t know about your heir obsessive
relative,” Harry said in amusement. “If I had to name a child with you, I’d probably die from
the difficulty of it.”
“What’s wrong with the name Delphinus,” Draco asked, narrowing his eyes. They were
discussing the other name options they had had for their children.

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with it,” Harry pointed out, going back to his food.

Ginny was away for a few matches and the children were at Hogwarts but Harry could not
stop cooking for a family so he opted to bring food to the cottage. Greengrass was off to
Finland to spend time with her sister and Draco’s parents generally minded their own
business at the Manor. Neither of them would be missed unless someone flooed, and they had
set up warnings for that.

“Need I remind you how well I know you?” Draco asked, with his head tilted to the side.

“Well, Delphinus sounds.... What about a name like... Colin?” he asked. “It sounds normal,
has a nice ring to it—”

“Is the name of your deceased, Potter-obsessed friend with the camera,” Draco interrupted,
looking at him flatly. “What is your obsession with doing that? I mean, did your wife have
any say at all in the names? They’re so heavily based on your past.”

“Of course Gin had a say,” he said, rolling his eyes. Draco just gave him a sceptical look
since he was chewing. “She did. We talked about it. Like everyone else does.”

“Mhm,” the man nodded.

“What?” he sighed.

“I think you did that annoying thing you do,” Draco said, sipping some water. “You know
where you passively manipulate the person into giving you your way.”

“What are you on about?” he asked dumbly.

“You know, this thing,” Draco said, setting his utensils down and softening his expression.
“We don’t have to name the baby Colin. It was just a suggestion. We are choosing the names
together, you know.” There was disappointed undertone to Draco’s voice and he looked as if
someone had kicked his crup but he was pretending to be fine.

“When have I done that?” he asked defiantly. Draco looked at him as if his question was
ridiculous.

“You do it all the time,” the blond said. “I’m fairly positive that when it came to naming the
children, that was the worst of it. Who’s going to deny someone with your past, wherein you
didn’t have family and then all these people came into your life and died in a war that only
you could end? It’s like you’re trying to keep them alive, through your children. How could
the Weasley woman say no to that?”

“Are you implying that I manipulated her into naming our children?” he asked incredulously.
“Have you met Ginny?”
“I’m not implying that at all. Just saying forthright that you did,” Draco smirked. “Without
question. Consciously or unconsciously. And I have met Ginevra. She adores you so it’s
completely possible.”

“Ginny is difficult to sway,” he said, because he did not have full control over the naming of
the children. It had been a mutual decision.

“If we had been discussing girl names, what would you have said?” Draco asked.

Harry opened his mouth and then glowered at Draco. “You pointy little prat,” he mumbled.

“Which one was it this time?” Draco asked smugly.

“... Dora... for Tonks...” he muttered.

“My cousin... that one might work,” Draco mused. Harry could not help but feel pleased at
that. “But what about Carina?”

“Carina?” he asked. He really liked how Dora sounded though, and Tonks had been such a
nice-

Draco raised his brow. “I can see you thinking,” he murmured.

“Damn it.”

“See.”

---

The name argument went on for a number of their rendezvous. Harry shot down Delphinus
each time Draco mentioned it, and a number of other constellations. Draco did not want to be
constantly reminded of some of the people whose names Harry had recycled so he shot those
down too, and then the regular names were too regular or something.

“Ophiuchus is not an option,” Harry growled, before starting at Draco’s shirt again. “I’d
sooner use Delphinus or Perseus.”

“I’m not using those painfully generic names you keep suggesting,” Draco shrugged. “I know
the Dursley’s made you feel out of place and all the excess attention here annoys you, but you
need to get over wanting to be ordinary. You aren’t. And ordinary is boring.”

“I cannot believe you just went there,” Harry said, sitting up.

“Look, I refuse to name my child Brad, or Kurt, or Joan, or Ann,” Draco said, as he lounged
in the bed. “They sound so minimal to me.”

“Yes, because using outlandish names that most people probably have to consider before
spelling is so much better,” Harry muttered. “You do realise that the reason most people
didn’t tease you about your name in school was because of Lucius, right? I reckon that if
most people had said what they had wanted to say to you, I wouldn’t be hearing complaints
about ‘generic, minimal’ names.”

“You mean everything they’ve started saying now?” Draco asked. “I don’t care, Harry. The
Blacks named a number of their children after constellations and I happen to want to adhere
to the tradition. It’s not as if they wouldn’t make fun anyway since they’ve already got the
Malfoy name to use.”

“Not everyone does that,” he pointed out.

“No, but they remember,” Draco said. “I’m already over the fact that my name will hold
some amount of tarnish for years to come, but I’m more or less over that. You should follow
suit and forget about adhering to normalcy. Do what you want.”

“We aren’t talking about baby names anymore,” Harry said.

“Yes, we are,” Draco said. “Now, what about Tucana?”

“Like the bird?” Harry groaned.

---

They had eventually managed to settle on baby names. Harry was not sure why they were
doing it anymore but the point of the thing was that they had managed to mutually decide on
the names. He thought that was what had started the whole thing. It had made Harry realise
that he and Ginny had hardly spent as much time contemplating names as they could have,
together.

“I’m quite satisfied with our choices,” Draco mused. They were in the couch now, with Harry
sitting so that his legs over draped over the blond’s legs.

“Caelum Frederick Potter doesn’t sound too bad,” Harry agreed. “And Dora Lynx Potter
sounds better than everything else we came up with.”

“Oi, it could be Caelum Frederick Malfoy or Dora Lynx Malfoy,” Draco said, snagging the
wine bottle. The conversation had been too heat for them to bother pulling out glasses.

“Malfoy-Potter then,” Harry amended.

“Why not Potter-Malfoy?” Draco sneered.

“How about, we do it respective of the first name?” Harry suggested. He was not about to
have it out again.

“So, if it’s Dora then it’s Potter-Malfoy...” Draco murmured. “All right, I reckon I can work
with that.”

“Good,” Harry nodded. “So now that we’ve named our perfect and blissfully happy
imaginary children, what should we do?”
“I’ve no idea. But at least we haven’t been here debating god parents. That would have been
a disaster,” Draco said, as he stretched. “How about a foot rub? And I mean my feet this
time.”

.:.:.:.

“Harry,” Draco said.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, looking up from the invisible lines he was tracing over Draco’s
stomach. They were lying in the bed at the moment and as far as he knew, the children were
listening to the quidditch match being aired on the Wireless. It was the only thing all of them
seemed to have in common.

“What are we doing exactly?” Draco asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked, flattening his palm over a spot he had felt move.

“Seriously?” Draco muttered.

“It was a vague question that could refer to any number of things,” Harry pointed out. “We
happen to be doing quite a lot right now I think.”

“What are you and I doing?” Draco asked, holding his gaze. “Relationship-wise. Technically
we’ve just been continuing the way we normally do except that everyone knows now, neither
of us is married and we’ve got a baby on the way. What are we doing?”

“...” Harry opened his mouth to speak but shut it in favour of thinking before he spoke.

He and Draco really had just been going about their interactions the way they usually did,
with the addition of everything Draco had pointed out and the fact that Harry was probably a
few months away from starting to call the man’s friends by their first names while only
tentatively speaking with some of his own—including Ron. Except ‘tentatively’ was an
understatement.

“You’d have thought we’d have this conversation before we moved in together...” he
murmured, furrowing his brows. “I suppose you could say we’re life partners? I’m not sure. I
don’t think I feel differently towards you. That being said, you’d have to ask what the bloody
hell we were doing before we found out we were going to have a baby.”

“Well, what were we doing then?” Draco asked, shifting. It was becoming increasingly
difficult for him to find a comfortable position to stay in.

“I... have no idea,” he admitted.

“Well, I think we were practically dating for over a decade and we were completely in denial
about how deeply emotions ran between us,” Draco said, resting his hand over Harry’s.

“I still loved Ginny though,” he said, glancing down at the sheets.

“I know. We discussed both our marriages, remember?” Draco nodded. “And I loved Astoria,
still love her. But I wasn’t in love with her. Never.”

“But I was in love with Ginny,” Harry said quietly. “I’m not sure what it is now, but I was.”

“I’m well aware. I’ve had many a nightmare about losing you to her since becoming
pregnant,” Draco admitted. “Especially when I could see how much the divorce had been
troubling you. Part of me wondered if you’d just abandon me completely and go back to her,
even though I know that isn’t like you.”

“Draco,” Harry whispered, threading their fingers together. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t tell me about those nightmares,” he said, edging closer to the blond.

“Well, I reckoned you had your plate full,” Draco said.

“And you didn’t?” he asked, raising a brow.

“You were already worried about everything else and I didn’t want you to coddle me,” Draco
said.

“Coddle... I don’t—”

“You do,” Draco drawled. “Trust me.”

“How do you know I would have coddled you?” he asked. “I could have been... appropriately
worried instead.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t have coddled me if I told you, and do keep calm about it,”
Draco said, as if he could predict Harry’s every reaction. “If I had told you that I had a
recurring dream where you would let me fall back into the Fiendfyre?”

“You dreamt that I what?” he gaped.

“It’s not as if I believed you’d—”

“Why didn’t tell me about that?” he asked. “Were you pregnant in the dream?”

“See now, you are by no means keeping ca—”

“Good Godric, you were,” he muttered. “Draco, I would never—”

“Coddling,” Draco drawled. “And I know you wouldn’t. I trust you.”

Harry took a deep breath and kissed the blond briefly.

“Considering my reaction, I think it’s safe to say that we’re past dating,” he said. “I mean
we’re practically married.”
“Practically,” Draco said, his brow twitching in agreement. “But don’t get any ideas. I am not
up for a wedding any time soon.”

“I don’t particularly want to look at any legal documents right now, so no worries,” he said.

“Brilliant,” Draco nodded.

“Is it all right if I tell you that I might actually be in love with you though?” he asked. “And
now that I’m letting myself think about it, I might have been ever since that DoM disaster.”

“And I’d say that considering how much I worried my arse off back then, I might have
suspected things were getting more serious than we intended them to, plus there’s also the
fact that I remained embarrassingly single after my divorce,” Draco said. “So I might also be
in love with you.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Yes,” Draco said, failing to suppress his smile.

“Draco Malfoy, did you just admit to being in love me?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Draco chuckled, before kissing him.

.:.:.:.

epilogue

.:.:.:.

It was January and going back to work had been an odd thing for Harry after spending around
ten months acting as a consultant and spending most his time sorting out his personal life and
then getting used to having a baby around again. He had almost forgotten how much they
could poop and cry.

Dora was 5 months old and, despite scaring him and Draco half to death by deciding to come
a month early, was doing very well so he had felt relatively fine to go back. Draco could
handle most the paperwork for the Malfoy businesses from home and when he had to venture
out Knobby and Zizi would gladly babysit. Honestly he thought they expected to have done
more babysitting so far but it had taken Draco a while to feel comfortable allowing anyone
other than himself or Harry to take care of Dora.

The infant had been a bit small and had, for the second time in 24 hours, scared the shit out of
them by taking longer to cry than any of their older children had. Harry doubted he had ever
been so relieved to hear an infant wailing, never mind that a few months later he absolutely
hated the sound. Dora was a blond baby and the smallest thing he had ever seen and the
second of his children to inherit his eyes.

The day after the delivery, Harry brought the children to the hospital. He had not been
entirely sure what had happened after he and Draco had rushed to St. Mungo’s in the middle
of the night but apparently a bit of panic was all it took to get Albus and Scorpius speaking to
one another again. For Lily, it was when she had seen Draco sleeping in his hospital bed that
she softened up and asked if he was fine. For James, a visit to the preterm nursery had him
looking at Dora worriedly and Harry assured him that she would be fine.

Of course there were still a number of arguments and disagreements between the lot of them,
but there were a few moments where Harry was sure that the children did not hate this half of
their family. Sometimes he would even go so far as thinking that they liked it. He was not
sure if that was his imagination though.

---

Harry sipped at his coffee as he looked over one of the cases on his desk and considered
which Auror team should handle it. He was glad to be back at the office and working, but he
also missed having the ability to check on Dora whenever he felt the need to. He did not miss
the soiled nappies though. Oh how he was waiting for the day she learned to wipe her own
bum.

“Come in,” he said, upon hearing a knock on his door.

“Hey,” Ron said, after stepping inside.

“Hi,” he nodded.

After Hermione had basically forced Ron to go into Harry and Draco’s house, she had kept
on doing it. She dragged him with her to look at Dora and congratulate Harry and Draco, and
then after a while he had begun to visit with her willingly. Family dinner at the Burrow was
still out of the question but that was mostly to do with Ginny, Percy and Arthur. George had
sort of come around—and had apologised about punching Draco early on in the pregnancy—
and Molly had found it difficult to stay completely upset at Harry with the way Lily had gone
on and on about how excited she was to finally have a sister.

Things were still a bit awkward though.

“Did you find the list of case reports that still need to be handed in?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, I did,” he said, waving the paper and setting it back down on his desk.

“Brilliant,” Ron nodded. “Because I don’t want to have anything else to do with this part of
the job. There’s too much paper work and politics.”

“I know,” Harry smiled. “Clutterbuck told me how much you hated it. Reckon I wouldn’t
have had a job to come back to otherwise.”

“Reckon I would have gone mental if you hadn’t come back,” Ron said.

---

Later that evening, Harry found Draco going through the not-so-little photo album from
Astoria, complete with ridiculous comments that Draco’s friends had written in. She had
given it to them for Christmas and then claimed that it was so wonderful a gift that she did
not need to get them anything for the next three years, at the least. He would let her get away
with it because it really was a brilliant gift, even if there were less than enthusiastic
expressions in some photographs. It had not been an effortless few months though so a few
pictures of either of them glaring were to be expected.

“I still can’t believe Astoria got a photo of when my parents visited,” Draco said.

“I’m still surprised that they visited at all,” Harry muttered, sitting beside Draco in the couch.

“Yes, well, Dora is their grandchild, regardless of how she was conceived,” Draco murmured,
as he browsed the pages.

“And you are their son and it shouldn’t have mattered that you birthed her,” he said.

“We’re all aware of that. They’ve apologised profusely and I’ve turned down enough
invitations to the Manor for them to know how upset I was,” the man said. “How was the
Ministry?”

“More or less the same,” Harry shrugged. “I’ve got new Aurors I’m not too familiar with but
I’ll catch up. I missed you two today.”

“Did you, now?” Draco smirked, setting the album aside.

“I did,” he nodded.

“I can’t exactly speak for Dora, but I reckon we both missed you too,” Draco said, leaning
towards Harry and taking hold of his chin.

They were in the middle of snogging when Dora began to cry and Harry got up and muttered,
“I’ll do it” before heading over to their bundle of stress-laced joy. She always seemed choose
the most inopportune moments to begin crying.

When he picked her up, he was not surprised to find that she had made a mess of her nappies.
He changed her and informed her that she pooped a lot for someone so small and that he
could not wait for when they could begin potty training her. Once she was cleaned up, he set
her back down into the crib. She started crying the second she touched it. Harry conceded and
took her with him.

“You are so lucky I love you,” Harry said. “Your father and I could have been having fun on
the couch just now, fun that I don’t expect you to start having until you reach my age.”

“You do realise she’ll be around forty by then,” Draco said, holding his arms out.

“So?” he asked, sitting down. “And you had her all day. It’s my turn. Isn’t that right, Dora?
It’s Daddy’s turn to spend time with you because he’s been at the Ministry all day. See, she’s
smiling. She agrees.”

“She’s smiling because you insist on speaking in that bizarre voice,” Draco said.

“You’re just grumpy because I didn’t hand her over,” he teased.

“I’m not grumpy,” the blond denied.

“Father’s grumpy,” Harry said to Dora. “He likes to take up all your attention and have you
all for himself. He likes to coddle you.”

“I don’t coddle,” Draco objected.

“He coddles,” Harry nodded, before he was poked in the side. He squirmed and made a
complaint.

Dora blinked at him and made a saliva-filled gurgle or giggle or squeal and Draco gasped
beside Harry.

“She just laughed,” the blond grinned. He poked Harry again and Dora made the noise again.
“Well, I’m not the only one who likes to see you squirm.”

“I don’t think I have it in me to complain about why she’s laughing,” Harry said, lifting Dora
so he could kiss her forehead. “You just laughed and it was absolutely fantastic.”

fin
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!