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Every time it snowed, the babe within Draco grew restless. It was as if their son knew the seasonal weather proved the the time was nigh for his father's arrival and he was just as eager to greet Harry as Draco was. Or, perhaps he was re-enacting the turbulent snowstorm that had raged on the night of his conception. No matter the reason, Draco was beginning to feel battered. He shushed the babe and rubbed soothingly at what he was sure was a tiny bottom, jutting out from his left side while heels and fists drummed his organs.
It had been nearly nine months since Draco had seen or heard from Harry but in that time, he had not forgotten Harry's promise to return before the Winter Solstice. Draco stood in the large picture window, looking out over the snowy terrain, staring through the swirling blizzard for a recognizable form. Idly, he swayed side to side and his fingers danced over his swollen abdomen. He had been performing this particular ritual for weeks, and not just because he was anxious for his husband's return.
When Draco could stand the assault no longer, he dragged himself upstairs to the bedroom suite. He had been confining himself to the first floor out of laziness, and perhaps a little fear that should something happen, the Floo would be out of reach. But the only bathtub was in the loo adjoining the master bedroom and when needs must...
He ran the bath (colder than he would have liked, but he had the babe to consider) and set Harry's Muggle record player spinning. It seemed his son shared Harry's penchant for the old crooners, and as soon as Etta James began to warble, the baby began to settle. Draco generally found the music too slow -too depressing- for his tastes, but tonight, it seemed right. He lit a lavender and rosemary candle and sank into the bathtub, using a flannel to drizzle water over his belly. And though most days Draco was full of fight, some days, he just wanted to sink beneath the waterline and into the abyss.
Harry let his job take him to the farthest corners of the world. An undercover Auror, he was often gone for months at a time and while Draco never resented him for his work, he often worried. Draco worried that Harry would never return, or worse, be delivered to him for burial. The very thought that Harry might never know his son, might not even know he had a child brought a rush of hot tears to Draco's eyes. Instead of brushing them away, he let them fall, tracking down his cheeks to drip from his chin.
Draco tried to tell himself that Harry would never abandon them. He reminded himself that Harry was a good Auror and tried not to dwell on the fact that all it would take was one Unforgivable or wayward spell in a moment of distraction. Harry would come back because he'd promised to and because Harry was brave, loyal and true. Draco snorted and scrubbed his tears away. It was only stubborn brashness that had kept Harry from Hufflepuff, and the very same would bring him home again.
Draco lounged in the bathtub until the water was too cold for comfort, vacillating all the while between hopefulness and impending doom. Then he drained it and hauled himself out. As he wrapped himself in his robe, he patted the now-peaceful babe in his belly and assured them both with a sigh, "Your Papa will come."
Moving into the bedroom, Draco donned warm socks and his black and grey-striped flannel pyjamas. Draco pulled a bundle of letters from the bedside table before climbing into the four-poster that Draco had insisted on when they moved in and was too small when Harry was sleeping in the middle of it, hogging the blankets, but seemed like an oceanliner when he occupied it alone.
The most recent letter was dated three months prior and it was the last correspondence that The Ministry had authorized for delivery. It had arrived already opened, but Draco was used to that. He had always just been grateful for any word from Harry, even if it meant that someone else had seen the words meant only for Draco's eyes.
After Harry returned from his first undercover mission, Draco had told Harry not to write him sappy letters anymore but Harry had only laughed and kissed him. I'm not ashamed to love you and I don't care who knows, Harry had said. From that moment on, Draco hadn't been embarrassed by it either.
Instead of waxing poetic about his feelings for Draco, this most recent letter said simply, I love you... Forever yours, Harry
Draco ran his fingers lightly over the ink and sighed before moving on to the next one. He read them one by one until his eyes were too heavy to go on. And though his heart was full, his arms were empty. He prayed that Harry would visit him in his dreams that night, though if he did, Draco didn't remember.
***
By Christmas day, Draco was despondent. Harry was four days late and the baby was due any minute now. He'd been having irregular contractions for most of the morning, but hadn't told anyone, sure that they would shuttle him off to St. Mungos and he would miss Harry's return. In the same vein, Draco had insisted on forgoing the traditional holiday meal at Malfoy Manor, requesting that his parents accompany him at 12 Grimmauld Place instead. He rubbed his belly and murmured to his son, "Wait for Papa, baby, please. He's coming, I know it..."
"Draco..." Draco's mother knocked lightly on the door of the loo. "Are you alright?"
"Fine..." Draco knew he sounded strained but he couldn't help it. He wiped at his eyes and straightened his blazer. The last thing he needed was a lecture about keeping up appearances, even in the worst of times.
"Kreacher has announced dinner..." Narcissa said in an unsure voice. "Your father and I will be happy to wait for you as long as you need."
There was no use putting off the inevitable. With a final sigh, Draco twisted the knob and opened the door. His mother was waiting to pull him into a hug and he was too weary to fight her. When she freed him, she gave a loving caress to the babe but Draco pushed her hand away. He didn't want her to feel a contraction, should one come on unexpectedly. "Let's get this over with," Draco grumbled, making his way toward the dining room and hating the way his hips had widened, making his gait unstable.
Lucius exchanged a glance with Narcissa before heaving a sigh, then followed after them, taking a rather large swallow of brandy. "Allow me to remind you that it is Christmas, a time for joyous revelry and celebration of family..."
"Forgive me," Draco snapped as he pulled out his own chair and sank into it, "If I'm not feeling particularly joyous this year. Harry is late and he promised..."
Lucius cleared his throat and, still standing, looked expectantly toward the kitchen. Narcissa moved beside Draco, laying her hand on his shoulder as she too turned her attention in that direction.
"For Salazar's sake, are you really that excited for the turkey?" Draco snapped, unfolding his napkin. He really wasn't in the mood to eat, much less make idle holiday small talk with his parents.
"But Draco," Lucius murmured with amusement. "It's the biggest turkey I've ever seen..."
As if on cue, the roasted fowl made it's way around the corner, perfectly golden amidst an array of roasted root vegetables on a silver platter. Carrying it was none other than the one and only Harry Potter, his smile somehow sheepish and blinding at once.
Draco's heart swelled so quickly that he couldn't do anything but sit in astonishment. When Harry put the turkey on the table, he said, "Merry Christmas, love. I'm sorry I'm late, but I'm here."
Overwhelmed by emotion, Draco burst into tears, covering his face with his hands. "Oh, Merlin! I hate surprises! Why would you do that to me? How long have you been here, you bastard? You're late and all I wanted was you and I've been so worried, and if you've been away just to give yourself to me as a Christmas prank, then I hate —hate — you, Harry Bloody Potter!"
Harry barked an astonished laugh and came around the table, reaching for Draco who swung at him, landing an ineffectual slap on his bicep. Harry tried to pull Draco into his arms, apologising and trying to explain that he had only gotten in a few minutes before and since Draco had been indisposed, it had been a last minute decision to surprise him.
Draco wiped at his face, crying out softly as his belly caught the underside of the table. "Watch the baby, will you?" Draco sniffled, turning to the side and raising his arms so that Harry could properly help him up.
"Watch the...?" Harry parroted in confusion before glancing down. A range of emotions flashed across Harry's face as he took in Draco's swollen stomach and fishmouthing, he dropped to his knees, narrowly missing Draco's toes in the process. Harry's hands went immediately to Draco's belly, tentative a first and then roaming the expanse of it. "Oh my God! This is...this is?"
Tears welled up again as Draco watched the wonder in Harry's eyes. He laid his hands over Harry's and smiled. "This is our son."
"Our son?" It was Harry's turn to dissolve into tears. "I didn't know! I would have found a way to come back sooner!" He dropped his head against Draco's belly, kissing and stroking it. "And you've been alone all the while. I'm sorry...Draco, love, I'm so sorry!"
Draco stroked Harry's head. "I know, Harry, I know...The Ministry wouldn't let me tell you. They didn't want to risk you compromising the case..."
Harry lifted his head, his lips pressed into a line. "Those bastards...that's it...I-I quit!"
"Really?" Draco hardly dared to breathe. It was more than he could hope for but everything he had always wanted. He wiped the wetness from Harry's cheeks with his thumbs.
"Yes," Harry said. "No. I don't know..."
Draco smiled again and sighed as he tugged at Harry's arms. "We'll figure it out, Harry. Now, enough mooning over the baby. I want my hello-kiss."
"But you've had months to get to know him..." Harry protested with no heat in his voice. He climbed to his feet and leaned over Draco, capturing his lips gently. But Draco was needier than that: he caught Harry's shirt in his fist and held him fast, his own lips parting and his tongue darting out to lure Harry's in. Harry's resolve crumpled and he kissed Draco fiercely then. It went on and on until Draco moaned and then, Lucius cleared his throat.
The two of them eased away from one another and Draco found his parents had retreated to the kitchen to give them some privacy. Harry ruffled his hand through his hair and then laughed. "It's alright, you can come out now."
"Shall I carve the turkey, then?" Lucius asked as he returned and reached for the large fork and knife beside the platter.
"As long as you're referring to the roast," Harry replied with a chuckle. "Is there something else I can do?"
"I quite think you've done enough," Lucius responded with a pointed look at Draco's stomach.
"That's enough, the two of you..." Narcissa chided with a smile. "Harry, you just sit there beside Draco and have yourself a rest. I'll let Kreacher know if we're in need of anything else."
"Thank you," Harry said and eased into the indicated chair. His hand snaked over to rest on Draco's stomach and he rubbed it in small circles as he looked lovingly at Draco again. "We're having a son..."
"Yes, Harry." Draco patted Harry's hand again and gave it a squeeze.
"I'm going to be a father," Harry murmured in wonder.
"Yes, Harry." Beneath Harry's hand, Draco's stomach suddenly clenched. Draco gasped at the strength of the contraction.
Harry leaned closer, beaming. "Was that a kick?"
"No," Draco gritted his teeth as something twinged inside of him and the baby suddenly shifted. "A contraction."
"A contraction?" Harry asked in alarm. "When are you due?"
Draco felt a wet trickle between his legs and blanched as he forced himself off of the chair, horrified to think he might make a puddle on the upholstery. "Now?"
"Oh, Draco, are you sure?" Narcissa's hand fluttered at her throat.
Draco backed toward the loo, his fingers gingerly examining the dampness of his trousers behind him. "Very."
Harry's chair toppled as he stood and Lucius reached for him. "Calm down, son. Everything's going to be alright."
Draco's father managed to keep Harry relatively calm as Narcissa helped Draco to get changed and then the four of them were off to St. Mungo's, where they would soon become five.
Scorpius Malfoy Potter was born just after midnight, narrowly avoiding being a Christmas baby and saddled with the additional middle name, 'Nicholas', as Harry was strangely insisting. He was welcomed by his adoring parents and grandparents; a squalling pink thing with a tuft of blonde hair that Harry and Lucius had no choice but to agree was the spitting image of Draco.
As Draco lay resting, Harry gazed down lovingly at Scorpius, who had quieted the moment Harry had taken him up. The two of them together were perfect and natural in every way, and Draco could not have been happier.
Later, Molly and Arthur Weasley came by. Molly congratulated Draco with a kiss before cooing over Scorpius, who was once more in Harry's arms. Arthur diplomatically greeted Lucius and the two of them exchanged celebratory cigars with a laugh. Molly had brought a picnic basket along and Narcissa charged herself with the task of offering everyone turkey sandwiches.
With a sigh of happiness, Draco looked at his family, and unlikely as it was, could not be more pleased with it. A final glance out the window revealed it was snowing again, and this time they were great, glorious flakes falling serenely from the sky. From that moment forward, Draco knew that every time it snowed, he would remember this day and the love that was shared amongst them all.
The End