Work Text:
Saturday, October 11th, 2003
1:25 a.m.
Draco jolted awake with a gasp. His eyes blinked open and he looked around for what had woken him up. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, however.
He looked over to the window, which was tilted open, a gentle breeze moving the curtains. Had something happened outside beneath the window? The bedroom window went out towards the garden, though, so what could have happened there? A cat maybe?
He let his eyes wander around the room. The door to the ensuite was still closed, as was the door that led outside to the hall. In the right-hand corner of the room, next to the window, stood the grey armchair that Draco had bought about two years ago when he had moved in. His clothes from the previous day lay on it, neatly folded. A reading lamp stood on a small table next to the chair and beside it stood a large bookshelf made from dark wood, overflowing with all kinds of books, wizarding and muggle. On the left side of the room stood a large wardrobe, made from wood that matched the bookshelf. Just like the king-sized bed that Draco was lying in now. Nothing had moved, everything remained where Draco had put it before he had gone to bed.
The picture frames that lined the walls hadn’t been moved either. All of them had been neatly hung at the same height thus creating a border around the room. The pictures were from different trips that had taken Draco all around the world. He had needed to get out after the war. He had needed to see something else, something besides this fucked up, grieving excuse for a country.
But all of that lay in the past, he thought, as his gaze fell to the right side of the bed where Harry lay sprawled on his stomach. Draco’s face rearranged itself into a contented smile as he regarded his husband of roughly one and a half years. His hair was even more of a disaster than during the day. It was beyond him how Harry, whose own grandfather had made his fortune with hair potions, didn’t seem to be able to tame this mess. Then again, what would he do, if Harry’s hair were suddenly neat and tidy? He would probably lose him all the time, if he wasn’t able to make him out by the atrocious bird’s nest on his head. He reached out to tangle his hands in that thick, soft mess, when—
“Shit,” he hissed, and his hands flew to his middle. And just like that he knew what had woken him up. His hands rubbed over his swollen stomach, which was suddenly very hard, and he tried to breathe through the pain, just as their midwife Luna had taught him in the weeks and weeks of birthing classes he and Harry had taken. Harry had had to drag him to each and every one of them kicking and screaming, but in this moment, Draco was nothing if not glad to know how to help himself. The pain stopped soon enough and Draco breathed a relieved sigh.
“Okay, Draco,” he whispered to himself. “That wasn’t so bad. You can handle this.”
For a moment, he was tempted to wake Harry up, but even if reluctantly, he had paid enough attention during their classes to know that labour could take forever. Harry probably needed all the sleep he could get now. Knowing his husband, Draco expected him to rush into a panic at the news that he had just had his first contractions. Harry wouldn’t manage to fall back asleep and that meant that Draco probably wouldn’t get much rest either. Because Harry had paid attention in those classes (like really) and he would be falling all over himself with ideas on how to help Draco, thus ensuring Harry’s untimely death.
“Damn it,” he cursed as another wave of pain shot through his lower back and belly. He breathed, cursed and then finally relaxed again as the pain subsided.
Pain was a funny thing, Draco knew. He didn’t lack experience with pain. The thing that always struck him was how it made it absolutely impossible to think about anything at all. That was probably why Draco didn’t even notice when the contractions stopped and he drifted off to sleep again.
3:07 a.m.
The next time Draco woke up, it wasn’t because of a contraction but because of his big fat belly making it impossible for him to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It didn’t matter what he tried; after a while his body started to ache. When he lay on his side, his hip would hurt, not to mention the arm underneath him that he didn’t know what to do with. It either fell asleep in each and every position, driving him mad, to the brink of just cutting the damn thing off, or he would suffer from shoulder pains due to his arm resting at a weird angle for too long.
He huffed angrily and turned on his back, knowing full well that within minutes the weight of his belly pressing on his spine would make this position unbearable as well. He managed approximately five minutes before he had to turn again, this time towards Harry. When he looked over, he saw Harry blinking at him.
“Can’t get comfortable?” he asked, voice rough with sleep. Draco shook his head. “Wanna switch sides?” Harry offered and upon Draco’s nod quickly climbed over his husband. Draco scooted forward into the warm spot that Harry had left behind. He sighed in relief when Harry’s hands landed on his back and started to knead the kinks out of his abused muscles.
“Mmhhh,” Draco hummed as the tension in his back eased.
“It won’t be much longer,” Harry murmured, not lessening in his effort to make Draco more comfortable. They lay silent for some time while Harry continued to rub Draco’s back. Eventually, though, Harry stopped and scooted closer to his husband, slinging his arms around him from behind. One hand naturally landed on Draco’s extended stomach and stroked it lovingly.
“Can I tell you something and you promise you won’t freak out?” Draco said, eyes closed, enjoying the comfort of Harry’s embrace.
“Sure,” Harry answered, and then leant in to brush a quick scratchy kiss to Draco’s neck.
“Earlier, I woke up having contractions.” He could feel Harry tense behind him, but almost instantly he felt him making an effort to relax again. When he spoke, his voice was almost calm.
“The real deal?” he asked.
“Who knows?” Draco countered.
“See?” Harry said. “It might be over even sooner than we thought it would be.” Draco snorted a quiet laugh.
“First of all, if this baby is anything like its father it will probably stay in there for another two months,” Draco started.
“Was that a dig at my punctuality?” Harry enquired good-naturedly.
“I would never,” Draco answered with as much fake outrage as he could muster at this time of night. Harry chuckled behind him, pulling Draco closer to him, nosing along the shell of his ear.
“Okay, go on.”
“What?” Draco asked, having lost his train of thought.
“You said, ‘First of all,’ so I’m guessing that there’s at least a second, if not a third and fourth,” Harry mocked. Draco elbowed him softly, too tired to give Harry what he really deserved.
“Sorry, pregnancy brain.”
Harry flat out laughed. “What are you going to say when this pregnancy is over and you’re just as scatterbrained?”
“I am not!” Draco protested indignantly.
“Well?”
“Okay, second of all, when it comes, nothing will be over. That’s when it’s going to get, like, really crazy,” Draco continued.
“She!” Harry admonished softly.
“Pardon?”
“Stop saying it. She’s going to be a girl,” Harry elaborated.
“I believe that when I see it. The healers say it’s only a thirty percent chance of the baby being a girl. I vote boy.” Draco expected Harry to keep bickering, but instead he said, “Can you believe it? We could be holding our daughter in our arms as soon as tomorrow.”
“Or our son,” Draco interjected stubbornly.
“She is going to be beautiful. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Or him,” Draco quipped.
“Draco?”
“Mhh?”
“Shut up!”
They fell quiet and Draco used the time to quickly take stock of his body. He was surprised to find that Harry’s massage had really done wonders for him.
“I love you,” he sighed.
“Me, too,” Harry answered.
“Urgh, I hate it when you do that!” Draco groused.
“What?”
“Me, too! Like, thank you for noticing, Draco, I very much love myself as well. It makes you sound just as big-headed–”
“Draco?” Harry interrupted him mid rant.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
7:39 a.m.
Probably the worst thing about being pregnant was the near constant need to pee. He felt like he had been doing nothing else but run to the toilet every twenty minutes for the past six months or so. Obviously, that was an exaggeration, but still, it was annoying.
It would have been wise to go to the bathroom half an hour ago, but he had been reluctant to leave the bed. His contractions had returned sometime during the night and, so far, they had been manageable. But now his bladder was about ready to burst and he was scared that if he went now, he might not make it. He hadn’t had a contraction standing up yet and wasn’t entirely sure that he would be able to remain upright. Contractions might be worse standing up. This was his first child, so how was he supposed to know?
“Harry,” Draco said quietly, but Harry didn’t stir. He looked peaceful, and Draco really wouldn’t wake him, except that if Harry didn’t get a move on he might just wet the bed.
“Harry,” he called out, louder this time. He panted when another contraction made the pressure on his bladder almost unbearable. A long, pained moan escaped him and finally Harry reacted.
“Huh,” Harry grunted, stirring slowly and turning towards the sound of Draco’s voice.
“Harry,” Draco repeated irritably. He knew Harry wasn’t a morning person and it bugged him on the best of days. This, however, wasn’t one of his better days.
“Wha’?” His eyes blinked open and focused on Draco, who had curled in on himself in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. Harry shot up from the bed. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice panicky.
“It seems I’m having your baby. And also, I need to pee something fierce,” Draco answered snidely.
“The real deal?” Harry asked again and quickly made his way around the bed.
“I don’t know whether you’re referring to the baby having or the peeing, but that’s a yes to both,” Draco groaned.
“What can I do?” Harry asked, eyes wide. “What do you need?”
“Just some help getting to the bathroom would be great,” Draco said, and as soon as the contraction had faded for good, he rolled around so that Harry could help him up and towards the bathroom.
Harry waited outside. With his bladder emptied, Draco felt confident that he would manage the few steps to the washbasin and then to the door by himself.
Once Draco was safely back in their bed, Harry got panicky again.
“What do you need me to do? How can I help? Do you want me to call Luna?” Harry rambled.
“It’s going to be fine, Harry,” Draco answered with fond exasperation in his voice. With the pressure on his bladder gone his outlook on life was way brighter than it had been five minutes ago. He looked up at Harry, who had started to pace back and forth along Draco’s side of the bed.
“Yes, fine, yes,” Harry parroted slightly manically. He stilled his pacing and looked at Draco.
“Are you comfortable? Do you need more pillows?” he asked, and stepped closer to the bed, sitting down on the edge. “Are you hungry? Do you want some water? Or ice chips? In the movies they always have ice chips.” He reached out for Draco, smoothed his hair back with clumsy fingers that made Draco wince. Then, just as quickly as he had sat down, Harry shot up again.
“Hot water,” he called, and began his pacing again. “And towels. Hot water and towels. I need…” He made his way to the ensuite and Draco could hear him rummaging through the cupboards there. A minute later Harry emerged with his arms full of towels only to realize that he had nowhere to put them.
“Chair,” he murmured frantically. “Chair… chair…”
“There’s an armchair over there,” Draco said in a way as not to spook Harry, who was obviously going through something.
“But… it has your clothes on it,” Harry replied, dropping the towels onto the bed. He left the room quickly, causing Draco to let out a long breath, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. For a couple of moments, the room fell quiet. The only sounds came from Harry, who apparently ran frantically through the house in search of the perfect chair to put the towels on. Draco wasn’t quite sure what Harry thought they were going to do with what must be every single towel they owned, but if it made Harry feel better then so be it.
Suddenly, Draco gasped as another contraction began. This one the most painful so far. “Harry,” he wheezed as he curled in on himself and knocked a couple of towels off the bed. This time Harry was apparently paying better attention, for Draco could hear him sprinting up the stairs and bursting into the room sans chair.
“Are you okay?” he demanded, chest heaving. Draco shook his head once, clenching his teeth as he tried to keep quiet through the gruelling pain.
“What’s wrong? Draco? What can I do? What do you need?” Harry babbled, storming towards Draco, grabbing Draco’s hand in a helpless gesture. “Do you need a back rub? Or I could rub your feet!? I… Draco, what do I do? Please, tell me what to do,” Harry begged.
“Wait,” Draco panted, still gritting his teeth against the pain. Some distant part of his brain reminded him that he needed to breathe through the pain, but at the moment his brain and his body weren’t exactly communicating.
“I’m going to call Luna now,” Harry said decisively, and tried to pull away, but Draco held his hand in an iron grip. “Or I’ll just stay,” he conceded. Eventually, the contraction faded and Draco relaxed. He drew a couple of deep breaths, relieved but not entirely sure whether or not it was really over.
“This is going to be hell,” Harry whispered, wide-eyed.
“No shit,” Draco deadpanned. He shuffled to the side a little, making room for Harry to scoot in next to him. Immediately, Harry followed the unspoken demand to cuddle up to his husband. Almost all the towels were on the floor now, but neither man paid them any mind.
“What do we do now?” Harry asked softly as he wrapped his arms around the other man and pulled him close.
“I’d say we wait a little and if this keeps up you are going to call Luna,” Draco murmured, already getting tired. How was he going to get through this if he forgot his breathing exercises as soon as the first painful contraction hit him? They were bound to get worse. But right at this moment he needed to push his doubts aside, because he knew that Harry had them as well.
“And in the mean time?” Harry’s voice sounded anxious, but a lot calmer than it had been a few minutes ago. Draco honestly didn’t know what they would do until Luna arrived.
“Do the fucking breathing exercises and keep our eyes on the prize?”
Harry laughed, then bent his head forward and kissed Draco’s neck, and when he started to laugh into him, Draco laughed along.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, tightening his hold on his husband, who promptly wriggled back against him. They lay in silence, Harry’s face buried in Draco’s neck, his breath hot and tingling, making Draco shiver with how every hair on his body stood on end. It was so comfortable, Draco felt so safe in Harry’s arms, that he dozed off for a while.
But soon he jolted awake again as the next contraction hit. He tensed up, drawing his knees up and curling his hands around his hard stomach.
“Draco?” Harry said, obviously struggling to keep calm. Despite the pain, Draco managed to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Okay,” Harry whispered, “We’re doing this. Breathe with me.” And then he did. After a couple of seconds Draco copied him. Together they breathed through the contraction, which turned out to be a lot more manageable this way. When the pain faded and Draco was finally able to relax again, he said, “Thank you.”
9:15 a.m.
Draco’s contractions came and went. Most of the time it felt like he could do this, but sometimes it felt like he wasn’t going to survive. He alternated between restlessly walking around, starting all kinds of chores that he would then abandon minutes later, and lying on the bed moaning in pain.
Harry had his hands full with picking up after him and holding him whenever Draco demanded it, which Draco did during every contraction. They breathed together through the contractions, which helped immensely.
Luna had flooed over some time ago, checking on Draco and his progress. According to her, everything was exactly as it should be. Even though Draco’s contractions were painful, there was nothing to worry about.
“I’ll leave you a couple of pain-relieving potions that I recommend. We wouldn’t want Draco to tire himself out before the big showdown,” she had said, winking at Harry, and laid a small package on the bathroom counter.
“I don’t want your stupid potions,” Draco had snapped, but instead of answering, Luna had just smiled at him.
“I’ll be out of your hair. As long as there is no bleeding and the contractions are manageable, there really isn’t any reason for me to disturb you,” she had explained and made her way towards the hall.
“Luna, wait,” Harry had called out and followed her out of the bedroom. “We need you,” he added as soon as they were alone and out of earshot.
“A birth is an intense and intimate experience; you should savour every moment as a couple,” Luna had said dreamily, not taking in the recurrence of Harry’s slight panic at all.
“You realize that we have actually no idea what we’re doing here, don’t you?” Harry had answered incredulously, but it barely registered with Luna.
“Oh, Harry, you don’t really need me,” she had answered in a sing-song voice.
“Er, yes, we need you,” Harry had repeated.
“You know why I love my job, Harry?” she had asked Harry, obviously not expecting a reply as she answered her question almost immediately. “Birthing is a natural process. Basically, thenatural process. It’s practically programmed into every woman’s DNA. I don’t actually have to do much of anything.”
“I… Luna…,” Harry had stuttered.
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Luna had said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “Draco knows exactly what to do. He just has to listen to his body. It will tell him exactly what to do. Like I said, instinct. Send me a Patronus when his contractions are no farther than five minutes apart.”
“I really think you should stay,” Harry had insisted.
“Harry, it’s still going to take a while. I’ll just be intruding. You can call me anytime should something happen and I’ll be here before you know it. Until then, go back to your husband. You can do this together,” Luna explained.
Harry had still been apprehensive, but it turned out that Luna had been right. He didn’t leave Draco’s side for more than a few minutes at a time after that, and just like Luna had said, it was intense and intimate. They whispered to each other, and Harry held Draco through his pain. It was too soon to tell, but it felt like they were growing closer the longer Draco’s labour went on.
Draco’s contractions came regularly, each a little earlier than the one before. The breathing helped with Draco’s pain, but eventually he became restless and demanded for Luna to come.
“I’m not a fucking WOMAN,” Draco bellowed when Harry told him about the conversation with Luna.
“I know, babe,” Harry conceded.
“Then get her here. Harry, please. I need her,” he whined. Harry stepped towards where he was standing in the bathroom, reorganising his hair potions.
“Look, she told me to send a Patronus if anything were to happen or if your contractions were about five minutes apart,” he told Draco.
“Send the FUCKING PATRONUS,” he shouted back, and threw one of his potions at Harry’s head. Harry ducked and the potion whizzed by his head, hitting the carpet behind him and remaining thankfully intact.
“She gave me specific instructions to do that when your contractions are no more than five minutes apart. I know her, she is not going to come.” Harry took a couple of cautious steps towards Draco as if he was approaching a wild animal.
“What kind of a fucking midwife is she? I’m giving birth here, I need her. I need her now. Make her come. NOW, HARRY.” Draco was properly panicking now. He tended to end his sentences with shouting when he was panicking. He had done it when Harry had ended up in the intensive care unit for the first time after an Auror raid gone wrong and he did it now.
“Draco, I don’t think it’s time yet,” Harry stated calmly. Just as Draco started to scream when he got panicky, Harry got calmer.
“Oh, and you’re the expert now, are you?” Draco spat. “I want the fucking midwife I hired to help me deliver this child to fucking get her arse over here and DO HER FUCKING JOB.”
“I know, Draco,” Harry said soothingly. “But I’m here. We went to all these birthing classes,we know how to do this.” He stepped further into the room until he stood right in front of Draco. He reached out towards him and pulled him close. “I’m here,” he repeated.
“I’m scared, Harry,” Draco whispered, and when Harry looked down, his eyes were swimming with tears.
“Nothing bad is going to happen to you today. We know what to do, and when the time comes, Luna is going to be here.” He kissed Draco’s forehead gently.
“What if something happens in the meantime?” Draco asked. Harry brushed a tear from Draco’s cheek with his thumb.
“I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
Draco nodded and pulled Harry closer.
“Now let’s go lie down. I want to cuddle with my husband in the last few hours that I have him to myself.” Harry pushed Draco out of the bathroom and away from the mess he had made there.
12:00 p.m.
“I’m scared,” Harry said.
“Why are you scared? You’re not the one who’s nearly torn in two every few minutes and you’re not going to push a brat through a vagina that you shouldn’t have in the first place,” Draco replied somewhat harshly. But he still reached out to where Harry was lying across from him on the bed and smoothed his hair behind his ear.
“I’m not saying that I’m not scared about this,” he said, waving a hand at Draco’s swollen stomach and then at the room as a whole. “But we’re prepared. We went to all the classes and Luna is going to be here when it comes to it.”
“What are you scared of, then?” Draco asked.
“Everything will change.”
Draco nodded. Sure, everything was going to change. Just like Harry had wanted it to change.
“Not all change is bad. It’s going to be different and you’re going to be a great father,” Draco said.
“What if I’m not? What if I want to lock her up in a cupboard?” Harry whispered.
“That’s an oddly specific fear,” Draco replied, confused for a couple of moments, before the pieces fell into place.
“You know about my childhood,” Harry reminded him. But Draco didn’t need the reminder;he might have forgotten it temporarily, but the way those awful Muggles had treated Harry never really left his mind. He had a bunch of different revenge plans in the lockable drawer of his desk. He knew Harry didn’t want him to act on any of his plans, but he might. One day.
“As much as I know that you wouldn’t do that, I swear to you that I am going to hinder you from locking our son up in a closet,” he answered. For a moment, Harry looked like he would start listing more things that he might do wrong, but then he snapped his mouth shut, pulled Draco close, and kissed him. Draco pulled back a fraction and continued, “I’m also not going to allow you to order him to do any excessive amount of house or garden work. You won’t be allowed to install bars in his window, except on the off chance that he is a girl after all.”
Harry gave an unconvinced chuckle.
“Bed without supper will not be an acceptable punishment. And the only cat flaps that you will be allowed to install will be for actual cats or kneazles.”
“I hate cats,” Harry retorted.
“Yeah, yeah, you always say that. You might not like the cats, but the cats like you.”
“That doesn’t mean we should get one.”
“Just wait until your son starts bugging you for one,” Draco said.
“She might be a dog person like her dad,” Harry countered. Draco made a disgusted noise in his throat and they dropped the topic. They lay in silence on their sides and looked into each other’s eyes. Harry scooted closer and kissed his husband again.
“You’re going to love her more than you love me,” he whispered against Draco’s lips, avoiding his eyes.
“I am not,” Draco replied instantly, not even needing to think about it.
“In the movies, the fathers always ask the Healers to save their wives, but the mothers only want them to save their babies.”
“I’m not a fucking woman,” Draco snapped.
“The argument still stands,” Harry retorted and brought some space between himself and his husband, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“You’re right,” Draco said. Harry immediately recoiled, but Draco shot his hand out and pulled him close. “In the highly unlikely case that several of our lives are at stake at the same time, you are probably going to plead with the Healers to save my life, whereas I am going to tell them to save my son’s life over mine. However, I would also tell them to save yours over mine.”
“I don’t want any of us to die,” Harry replied quietly, his voice sounding haunted.
“And we won’t.” Draco pulled him into his arms again.
“I love you, Draco,” Harry whispered.
“I love you more,” Draco answered.
“No, you don’t.”
“Of course I do. I agreed to ruin this God-given body to fulfil your lifelong dream of having a family even though you are as bent as a corkscrew.”
Harry laughed against Draco’s lips before he kissed him again.
“Git.”
“Is that any way to speak to the father of your unborn son on the eve of his birth?” Draco feigned outrage, drawing another laugh from his husband. His panic was successfully averted.
2:42 p.m.
Things progressed quickly after Harry’s little bout of panic. Draco’s contractions came regularly, immensely painful, but still farther than five minutes apart.
“Ow, ow, fucking ow,” Draco cursed. “This is fucking hell.”
“I know, baby.”
“Don’t you baby me, you fucking–” He broke off, searching for words, but coming up blank. “Gryffindor,” he finally spat. Harry had the audacity to snort.
“This is not funny, asshole,” Draco snapped.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not,” Harry said, turning his face away from his husband to hide his smile.
“What kind of stupid fucked up idea was this anyhow? And how did I let myself get sucked into this?” Draco ranted. Harry threw him a hurt look.
“Don’t you look at me like that, you insufferable wanker. That’s the look that got me into this fucking mess,” Draco went on. “Oh Draco, I’m a sad little orphan and all I wish for is a family of my own,” he said, imitating Harry’s voice. “I’m so sad, so so sad. Look at my sad little orphan eyes.”
“I don’t sound like that,” Harry replied.
“You so do! Draco, please make me happy again, by ruining your figure and growing a FUCKING vagina and pushing a giant brat out of it. Because I couldn’t be bothered to carry the child I so desperately want myself.”
“Well, I’m sorry I made you do this against your will,” Harry said, sounding hurt still.
“Stop crying your little eyes out, Potty! As if you could make me do anything I don’t want to.”
“But you just said…” He stopped speaking when Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “Contraction over?” he asked. Draco nodded, frowning. He sank deeper into the pillows he was propped up against, but he remained tense.
“Was that five minutes?” he asked, exhaustion colouring his voice.
“I’m sorry, love. No, it wasn’t,” Harry replied quietly, taking a couple of steps back from the bed, heeding the explosion, but it didn’t come. He walked towards the bathroom quickly and when he came back he was holding the potions that Luna had left for Draco.
“Get those out of my sight, right this instant,” Draco snapped.
“But they’re going to help. You don’t have to do this on your own,” Harry said, trying to reason with his husband, holding the potions out to him.
“No, I don’t want them. I don’t want to be all hazy.” He hated not being in control of himself. It was just one of the many quirks that the war had given him. He never drank more than one or two glasses, partly because he knew that he had a predisposition for addiction and partly because the lack of control scared him off. Drugs were out of the question, of course. The same was true for different calming and pain-relieving potions, because they made him drowsy. Cigarettes, however, were a very different story. He had smoked like a chimney since the middle of sixth year, but that lay in the past now, of course. He had smoked his last pack all in one day, the day that he and Harry had decided to try to conceive roughly a year ago. He had done nothing else that day but sit in the garden in the unseasonably warm September sun and smoke a big pack, naming every cigarette and making teary goodbyes.
“What can I do?” Harry asked.
“Can you just come over here and let me be mean to you?” Draco asked, making big eyes at Harry.
“Okay,” he answered and climbed into bed next to Draco. He wrapped his arms around Draco and held him. For a while they were quiet, but soon Draco stiffened again and moaned in pain.
“Oh, shitting fuck,” he groaned. “I hate my fucking life.”
“Come on, breathe with me, then it will get better,” Harry said.
“Are you kidding me? Breathe with me. Fucking breathe yourself if it makes you happy.”
Harry did, but Draco just ignored him.
“I hate you so much, right now,” Draco said, getting crueller the more exhausted he got.
“I know,” Harry answered sadly.
“Don’t give me that crap. You said you would let me be mean to you, now suck it up and don’t make me feel like an asshole,” he snapped.
9:30 p.m.
Harry knew all of Draco’s coping mechanisms. He knew them because they were what had made getting together so hard. If there was one thing that his husband didn’t like it was not being in control.
They had reconnected roughly two years after the war. Immediately after the trials, facing no charges thanks to Harry’s testimony, Draco had left the country. He had travelled all over Europe for a year and then gone to New Zealand. They ran into each other when Draco had been visiting his parents for a couple of weeks before heading to the States. Harry had been getting coffee at a new place on Diagon when he spotted a bright blond head of hair that could only belong to one person. He had burned the roof of his mouth, too distracted to be careful of his hot beverage. By the time they stood face-to-face, Harry was coughing and his eyes were watering. He must have been so attractive.
Draco had been sarcastic, telling Harry that he was touched that Harry was so happy to see him that he would cry tears of joy. And Harry had been speechless. In the two years that they hadn’t seen each other he had figured out that his obsessive behaviour during sixth year might have been more than just his desperate wish to find out and stop whatever Draco had been planning. And now that Draco stood before him, he was even more attractive than Harry remembered. Gone were the days of the awkward, lanky teenager with the pointy face and dark circles underneath his eyes. He had filled out; he was still thin and tall, but his clothes didn’t really hide the facts. Harry had clumsily asked him out for a pint and by some weird strike of luck he had agreed.
They had met up often in those few weeks. It was awkward and hard to spend time with Draco, but it was also thrilling and fun. They had both apologised while stupid drunk on the first evening they met up, and every time they had touched on the war during any of their following meetings Draco had ignored Harry for a couple of days afterwards. And when Harry had kissed Draco a few nights before he was due to leave the country again, he had shut Harry off completely. Harry had sent him heaps of owls, but Draco had refused to take the letters. Even contacting the few of Draco’s friends that still remained in the country hadn’t worked out. In the end, the only thing Harry could think of to do was flirt with the desk witch at the Portkey Office to weasel the exact time of Draco’s departure out of her.
He had turned up two hours early that day, his speech memorized. He had talked to Hermione about it, because he had wanted to make sure that Draco knew that, yes, he was sorry if the kiss hadn’t been what Draco had wanted, but no, he wasn’t sorry it had happened, because it had been exactly what he had wanted and he still wanted it. He knew that it would be difficult, he knew that they would be at each other’s throats a lot of the time, but he still wanted to try.
Draco had answered in the most confusing manner possible, by saying, “This can’t happen, Potter,” and kissing him passionately, painfully, desperately, before he took his Portkey and was gone. For another six months, or so Harry had expected.
Because three weeks later, Harry had woken up to insistent banging on his front door and when he opened it, Draco pushed past him, snarling, “You have ruined California for me, bastard!”
They had kissed angrily at first, tearing at each other’s clothes, trading insults, growling and snarling and loving every minute of it. They made it to Harry’s bedroom and then things changed. Harry had never had sex like that. But two days later, Draco was gone again. All that he had left was a note, telling Harry that he just couldn’t do this.
And so began the year in which Harry tried to convince Draco to stay and Draco just couldn’t. The idea of Harry breaking his heart was unbearable to Draco. He needed to get away when everything became too much and Harry tried time and time again to convince Draco that he was it for him, but Draco couldn’t believe him, because they had hated each other, because Harry had been the hero and Draco the villain, and he was just scared. Sometimes Draco would stay for a month and Harry would think that they were finally good, but then the fighting would start. Draco would contradict him in everything, pick fights wherever he could and when Harry called him out on his behaviour, Draco would remind him that this couldn’t work. Then came the silence and a couple of days later Draco would be gone again.
That was why today Harry really began to worry when Draco went quiet. Luna had been at their place for roughly two hours. When she arrived, Draco had still been ranting and cursing and being rightfully obnoxious. Harry granted him that. There was no way he could comprehend what Draco was going through, so he could take it.
He tried to help in any way he could, but when Draco stopped ranting and shouting and cursing the day Harry was born, Harry grew frantic. He tried everything, from talking to Draco to offering massages to bringing more pillows to urging him to take the fucking potions already. When Harry tried to wipe his husband’s forehead clean of sweat, Draco flinched.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, and swatted at him like he would at an annoying fly. Harry jerked his hand away and took a step back from the bed, stung. Luna must have seen his hurt expression, for she said, “Okay, Draco. I know it’s hard and it hurts, but you’re doing good and it’s almost time to push. You’ve almost made it.”
Then she addressed Harry, “Now is not the time for hurt feelings, Harry. Go downstairs, drink a glass of water, gather yourself, and then come back. We need you.”
Harry did as he was told and when he returned a couple of minutes later, Luna told him to climb into the bed behind Draco to support him. He held his husband while he pushed, moaning in pain. Harry was terrified to see what it took out of Draco, to see how weak he was getting, how every movement became a struggle. Unable to think of anything else to do, he murmured into Draco’s ear.
“I love you, Draco,” he whispered again and again.
10:44 p.m.
Draco was lax in Harry’s arms. He had given his everything on the last contraction and now he was too exhausted to keep his own head up.
“Harry,” he breathed.
“I’m here, baby,” Harry answered, supporting Draco’s head with his left arm and pressed a kiss against his sweaty cheek. “I’ve got you.”
“I can’t, Harry,” Draco sobbed. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“I know. It’s not going to be much longer.”
“That’s right, Draco,” Luna piped up. “You’re doing great. Your baby is almost here.”
“No,” Draco said, shaking his head weakly where it was propped up against Harry’s shoulder. “I want to go now. I can’t do this. This was a mistake.”
Harry tightened his arms around his husband in a show of support, not because he was really scared that he might get up and leave.
“Draco Malfoy,” he murmured into his husband’s ear. “You are the strongest, most stubborn person I know. You have been through so much already and you have never let anyone or anything defeat you. You can do this. You are strong.”
“No, I’m exhausted. It hurts. I don’t want to keep going. I want to stop now,” Draco answered.
“You just have to hold out a little longer, okay? When you have our son in your arms, you can stop. It’s not going to be long now, but you have to fight for our son a little longer,” Harry tried.
“It’s going to be a boy?” Draco said, voice slurring with fatigue.
“It probably is, yeah. Just picture him. He’s going to be perfect. He’ll have your eyes and your hair and people are going to fall in love with him left and right.”
Draco smiled, his eyes closed.
“No,” he breathed, and Harry tensed, because he knew that if Draco refused to keep pushing they would get into some serious trouble. “He’s going to have your atrocious hair.”
Harry chuckled quietly.
“Your hair is dreadful, Harry,” Draco whispered.
“He’s right Harry, it is,” Luna agreed from the other end of the bed. Harry outright laughed and after a second Luna joined him. Draco was too worn out to laugh, but he still smiled.
“Don’t you want to meet him though?” Harry asked, nosing along Draco’s ear down to his jaw. Draco nodded weakly. “Then you need to push.”
“But it’s hard,” Draco whined.
“It is. It’s way harder than anything I have ever done,” Harry replied, still kissing Draco gently.
“I’m stronger than you?”
“Of course, you are. What have I ever done worth mentioning? Threw a couple of Expelliarmusesaround and everything else worked itself out without my help,” Harry whispered.
“That’s what I’ve always said.”
Luna threw Harry a look that told him it was time for Draco to push again. Harry nodded and said, “Come on, Malfoy, show me how much stronger you are than me.” But Draco shook his head again.
“I don’t want to,” he persisted.
“Scared, Malfoy?” Harry challenged, and winced slightly when Luna glared at him.
“You wish, Potter,” Draco replied, and pushed.
11:37 p.m.
“Oh Draco, it’s a little boy,” crooned Luna, as she held the pink-skinned, wailing infant up for them to see.
“Little?” Draco grumbled. “I have certain transformed body parts that can attest to the fact that he is anything but little.” He was exhausted; everything hurt. The fact that he had done it, that he had just given birth to their son, had not yet registered with him. Harry’s arms, which had been holding him for the crucial parts of the delivery, tightened around him.
“You did so good, Draco,” Harry gushed. “Look at him, he’s perfect.”
He could hear Harry crying, a testament to the fact that he had not just pushed a baby out of his body, because Draco was definitely too exhausted to cry.
“Enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime moment, Potter, because I’m certainly never doing this again,” he said, and reached out for his baby, suddenly desperate to hold him, but instead of handing the baby over to Draco, Luna asked Harry, “Ready to cut the cord, daddy?”
Harry, the blubbering mess, gently extricated himself from where he had been sitting behind Draco and picked up a couple of pillows from the floor which he arranged behind Draco’s back, so that he could lie back comfortably. Then he made his way towards Luna, who was still holding their son. She nodded towards some instruments for Harry to bring over, then she transferred the child to Harry, clamped the cord, and then took their son back, so Harry could cut it.
Instead of handing the baby back to Harry, Luna wrapped him up in a blanket and brought him over to Draco. He stretched his arms out towards his son before Luna was even near him. And when he finally held him against his chest, he greedily pulled the blanket to the side to look into his son’s face for the first time. Within a few seconds he stopped crying and gazed at Draco with huge eyes, pulling faces every once in a while.
“Okay, Draco,” Luna said. “Give me one last big push for the afterbirth and we’re done here.”
“You said I would be finished once I held him in my arms,” Draco replied petulantly.
“Well, it is what it is,” Luna said, refusing to argue.
Harry walked towards the bed again and sat beside his husband. He slung his right arm around Draco and laid his left hand on Draco’s where he was stroking the baby’s back softly. Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s temple and murmured, “Come on, you did so good until now, you can do this as well.”
Harry held their son, while Draco one last time gave it everything and a short while later, he finally had the chance to completely focus on his baby.
“Hello, baby,” he said softly and reached out one hand to gently trace along the lines of his face, his skin impossibly soft against Draco’s finger. Harry reached for one of the baby’s tiny hands.
“He’s so small. How will we manage not to break him?” Harry asked no one in particular.
Luna had apparently left the room at some point, because she was now holding a bottle out for Draco to feed his son for the very first time. “You don’t have to worry about that. Babies are more resilient than you might think,” she said.
He took the bottle and gently ran the nipple along the baby’s lips until he latched on without any further problems and started suckling.
Harry and Draco stared at their son while he fed and Luna quickly and efficiently brought the room back into its normal tidy state. She settled into the armchair, shoving Draco’s neatly folded clothes to the side, and watched them silently until the baby finished.
“Okay, I’m going to clean him up a little and Harry is going to put on his first nappy and then I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll be back tomorrow around seven. If there are any problems do not hesitate to send me a Patronus and I’ll be here in no time,” Luna declared.
“I want to do the nappy,” Draco protested.
“No, Draco, I want you to stay in bed and rest. We’re not going to run off.” Draco glared at her for not granting him his wish, but let her take the baby from him. He watched them go into the bathroom and he continued to watch Harry’s first rather clumsy attempt at putting a nappy on his son. It was funny how useless he was at it, when he had changed Teddy’s nappy a zillion times. As soon as he was finished, Harry hurried back into the bedroom to hand the child over to Draco again.
They didn’t even notice when Luna left. They were too busy watching their baby, goofy smiles on their faces, whispering I love yous and kissing again and again, unable to find words for their happiness.
3:25 a.m.
“I can’t believe you gave me this,” Draco said dreamily as he watched their son lying in his cot right next to their bed.
Harry lay behind him, spooning him. His head was propped up on his left hand, while his right arm was slung around Draco, his hand tightly wrapped around Draco’s.
“I can’t believe you gave me this,” he replied, eyes never leaving the sleeping bundle. Their son was tightly wrapped in a blanket, only his hair and his tiny perfect nose was visible from where they were lying. His hair was jet black, just like Harry’s, and his eyes were a pale blue that surely would turn into grey with time. He had Draco’s slightly pointy chin, but Harry’s eyebrows and full lips. Draco had no doubts that he would grow up into a handsome boy. He was the most beautiful child he had ever seen.
“We made him,” Draco breathed in wonder.
“How ever did we manage to make something this perfect?” Harry asked. They fell silent as they both drank in the sight of their new-born son with wide, shell-shocked eyes.
“What do you want to call him?” Harry said after a couple of minutes of quiet staring. They hadn’t agreed on a name yet. All their discussions had ended in spectacular fights, because none of their respective suggestions had suited the other. In the end they had agreed to meet their child first and decide then. That didn’t mean that Draco hadn’t given it any thought, though.
“I thought about it a little,” Draco answered and he could practically hear Harry rolling his eyes.
“For the last time, Draco, we are neither going to name our child Abraxas nor Fleamont. I don’t care if they’re family names,” Harry scoffed in exasperation.
“Well, it’s tradition to stick to certain names in a family,” Draco answered haughtily and elbowed Harry in the stomach when he tried to interrupt him. “That’s why I thought we might name him James.”
Harry tensed behind him.
“I… do you… are you sure?” he stammered. For a moment, Draco was reluctant to turn around, because he had surely never in his life done anything more taxing than taking his eyes off his baby. He looked over for a couple of seconds more, then closed his eyes, making sure that he could still see his son before his inner eye, before he turned around towards his husband.
“I am sure,” he said, smiling softly at Harry. Of course he was sure. He had known that Harry secretly wanted to name the baby James or Lily, because he had rejected each and every name that Draco had brought forth and had been either reluctant to share his own suggestions or brought forth names that were so outrageous that he must have known that Draco would reject them on the spot.
“Okay, yes. Yes, I would love that,” Harry rasped, throat tight with emotion.
“I hoped that with James as the first name you would grant me a traditional family name as the second name, something celestial maybe?”
“Yes, yes anything,” Harry replied hastily, nodding his head quickly.
“Sirius,” Draco said. Harry’s eyes filled with tears that immediately brimmed over. Draco reached out and brushed them away, then leant in and kissed Harry.
“I love you,” Harry sobbed against his lips.
“I love you, too,” Draco answered, before he turned around again and said, “And now please don’t disturb me while I stare at my son until his picture is permanently burned onto my retinas.”
Harry chuckled wetly behind him and sniffled for a while, but Draco was too enamoured with his son to pay Harry much mind in this moment.
October 11th, 2006
Draco was dead on his feet. Entertaining a house full of sugar-crazed toddlers was a lot of things, but above all it was exhausting. He breathed a long sigh when, finally, the last plates were back in the cupboard and all the countertops were wiped clean.
After the guests left, Draco had volunteered to do the clean-up, while Harry had enjoyed an hour of telly with James as one last birthday treat. By now, however, Harry should be upstairs reading James his bedtime story.
Draco left the kitchen and walked quickly through the downstairs rooms, checking whether he had forgotten anything, but everything looked as if the invasion of toddlers had never hit. He smiled when his gaze fell upon the small mountain of presents that James had received. There were still some unopened presents in the hall closet, because James had been completely overwhelmed and Draco had had to stop the handing over of gifts at some point.
A large family was a blessing in many respects, but the number of presents was simply too much for a three-year-old. He had been bouncing up and down, a little higher than should be possible just from his own strength. In anticipation of an eruption of James’s accidental magic, Draco had silently communicated the end of the gift opening part of the party, and Harry had quickly diverted James’s attention by announcing another party game. Draco had swiftly summoned all the unopened gifts and banished them to the closet.
James had strong magic. It wasn’t much of a surprise, considering who his father was, and Draco had been happy to see the first signs of it as early as nine months after his birth, when James had been lying in his crib one morning, apparently bored, and made the little Quidditch players in the mobile above his bed fly around. Now it sometimes was quite the hassle. Just last week, James, who had been over-excited because he was allowed to choose the decorations for his party, had exploded a priceless Malfoy heirloom vase. It had been butt-ugly, so Draco wasn’t too put out, but it had been quite some work to get all the shards out of the wall and the surrounding furniture. Not to mention what might have happened if anyone had been standing near the damn thing.
Having made sure that the house was once again in order, Draco made his way upstairs. He could practically hear the bed calling out his name. He quickly checked on Harry and James, who had just finished their story. Harry was tucking James in, whispering to him and making him giggle. Draco couldn’t help the fond smile that curved his mouth. Harry might have been scared of fucking James up a number of times along the way, but just as Draco had anticipated, Harry excelled as a father. Secretly, Draco was sometimes a little scared that Harry would end up James’s favourite.
Before he made his way to the bathroom to prepare for bed he quickly looked into the room opposite James’s. Two little beds stood there, only separated by a small night stand. A beautiful night light that projected moving stars onto the wall and tinged the whole room with a soft blue light made two tiny heads visible on the pillows. One was just as blond as Draco’s and the other the same messy black as Harry’s. If the twins weren’t sleeping soundly, one would have been able to see Scorpius’s grey eyes and pointy chin that made him a miniature version of his father. One would also be able to see Albus’s green eyes and knobby knees that made him a carbon copy of his other father.
Draco leaned against the door frame with a loving smile on his face. Sometimes it was hard to believe what had been given to him. There had been times when Draco had thought that he would never be happy. Where he thought that he had forfeited any right to happiness. To this day he sometimes had trouble believing that all this, this beautiful family, was his.
Behind him the door to James’s room moved, indicating Harry’s approach. “Twins okay?” he asked softly.
“Perfect,” Draco answered. Harry stepped up behind him, rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder and slung his arms around him. Now that it had been roughly one and a half years since the twins’ birth, Draco wasn’t overly sensitive about his soft stomach anymore, but still Harry made no attempt to touch him there. Draco had been insufferable after both pregnancies, but Harry had borne it with the patience of a saint.
Draco reached back, wove his fingers in Harry’s hair, and then turned his head slightly, kissing the edge of Harry’s mouth. “One might think that with three children, we would have managed a girl. Given the odds,” he murmured against Harry’s lips.
“I’m afraid there are no refunds,” Harry joked quietly. Draco chuckled, pulling Harry’s arms tighter around himself.
“They’re perfect, aren’t they?” Draco whispered.
“Well, now they are,” Harry retorted. For a while they stood quietly in the hall looking at the twins, both caught up in their own thoughts. When they spoke again, they did so at the same time.
“I think we should–”
“I think I would–” They laughed awkwardly.
“You go first,” Draco said, and Harry nodded.
“Okay. I think I would like to take a step back from work. I want to spend more time with my family,” he said. Draco had been anticipating something like this. In the last few months Harry had taken to coming home early a lot. He had rejected an offer for promotion and whenever he talked about work, Draco had heard his frustration. Still, it was nice to hear Harry finally say it out loud.
“I would like that,” Draco said.
“You would?” Harry sounded surprised.
“Sure. We don’t really need the money, and you haven’t been happy for a while. You could work less, or you could even do something else entirely. And if you never want to work a day in your life again, that would also be fine by me,” Draco declared.
“Okay,” Harry said slowly, apparently not quite trusting where this conversation was going. “You sure?”
“Of course,” Draco answered quickly, avoiding Harry’s eyes.
“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Harry said, stepping back from his husband and pulling him along towards their bedroom.
“It’s just…” Draco began, unsure of Harry’s reaction. “…if you work less, maybe I could start working again? Just for a few hours?”
“Yeah, sure. Why should you have to stay home all the time?” Harry answered as if it was nothing.
“Oh, okay then,” Draco said, and beamed at Harry. He had been missing work for a while now, but he had also been reluctant to hire a nanny. Who would have thought that it would be this easy?
“What did you want to say?”
“Oh, nothing,” Draco deflected hastily and just passed Harry on his way to the bedroom. He quickly prepared for bed and when Harry came out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, he had already switched off the lights. Harry made his way over to the bed and scooted in next to Draco, immediately reaching out and pulling him towards himself.
“Time to fess up, Malfoy,” he said teasingly, and nibbled at Draco’s earlobe. The scratch of his stubble sent shivers down Draco’s spine, making him squirm deliciously. Already, his blood began rushing south and Harry’s hands roaming over his body, skimming over his sensitive nipples on the way down, scratching along the back of his thighs on their way back up, didn’t really help him keep a level head. When Harry thrust his hips forward and Draco felt the hot pressure of his erection against his arse, he couldn’t prevent a long throaty groan escaping his mouth.
“You’re evil,” he half-moaned, half-whispered. Harry laughed softly against the skin of his neck while he mouthed and bit and sucked a path from his ear to his shoulder.
“The sooner you get talking, the sooner we can—” He broke off, thrusting his hips against Draco again, making his point clearer. “—do other stuff.”
“But you cannot laugh,” Draco negotiated, wriggling back into him. He reached back and grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair to keep him in place where he was alternately kissing and then scratching his chin along the sensitive skin of Draco’s neck just the way he knew Draco liked.
“I won’t. Cross my heart and hope to die,” Harry mocked. Draco’s laugh turned into a moan, when Harry let his fingers trail lightly over his cock.
“We spend too much time around toddlers. Our negotiation style leaves something to be desired,” he murmured.
“Come on, out with it,” Harry prompted. Draco groaned, this time not from arousal, but from embarrassment.
“Okay,” Draco said, then turned around so that he lay facing Harry. “I thought… well… today was nice and all, speaking to the other parents, and the kids had fun…”
“Yes?” Harry said, drawing out the vowel, apparently completely clueless as to where Draco was going with this.
“I just… I thought… we’re doing a pretty good job with the kids, aren’t we?”
“Sure are.”
“We’re a good team as well. Don’t you think? No major drama. Unlike Neville and Hannah and their brat who managed to throw more cake against the walls than she actually put into her mouth.”
Harry snorted. Hannah had been highly embarrassed about her daughter flinging her cake everywhere, and completely unable to stop her.
“But Alice is so cute with her little pigtails, don’t you think?” Harry swooned.
“She is, isn’t she? That’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.”
“Do you want to steal her?” Harry asked, in a conspiring tone.
“No, but we could try for a girl of our own?” He didn’t really mean it as a question, but it sure came out as one.
“We could?” Harry asked quietly, eyes round. It was as if he was afraid he might scare Draco out of it if he spoke too loudly.
“Would you want to?” In lieu of an answer, Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco hard. “So, that’s a yes?”
“Of course I want to! That you even think you have to ask,” Harry said excitedly. He leaned in and kissed Draco again and Draco could feel Harry’s grin against his lips. Harry pecked him on the lips several times, too excited to really get into it.
“So, if I take a step back from work,” Harry began insecurely, “Maybe I could carry her?” The thought of getting Harry pregnant, of thrusting into him, coming inside him and creating another tiny miracle, sent a powerful wave of arousal crashing through Draco, making it hard to breathe. An involuntary groan was ripped from his throat and his formerly half-hard cock jumped in anticipation.
“Hands and knees now, Potter,” Draco growled.
Harry’s eyes flashed with heat, but he didn’t comply immediately. Instead he said, “I haven’t even taken the potions yet.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t start practicing. Now move.” And Harry did.