Archive of Our Own

The flat is quiet. Not just the quietness of a home waiting for its occupants to come home. No, this is not a place waiting to alight with the sounds of a loving couple. This flat is too quiet - before he has even checked the closet, he knows.

Philippe is gone.

For a moment he doesn’t know just what to do. Shouldn’t there be a part of him that rages against being left again? Rages against being unloved and unwanted? But there is no rage, just a familiar hollowness. As if a piece of him is missing.

Walking through the flat he notes the little things missing a picture here, a trinket there, and each little token carves him more to pieces. The closet has been emptied of most of its content and he feels a small smile tug at his lips. He always knew that Philippe had tried to take over his life, and he had started with the damn closet.

Why do they always leave him? Philippe has done the same as the first man he had given his heart to. Left without a word of goodbye. He feels raw, as if part of him that he had believed closed of and safe, has finally broken open, forcing him to acknowledge the pain that was inflicted so long ago.

Looking at his lonely robes, left hanging on a few pegs he sits heavily on the bed, but it is only when he sees the remnants of the pictures of them as a couple burned in the fireplace that he allows himself to cry.

He is not entirely sure if his tears are for the failed relationship, or if he is mourning his first love. The man who still owns part of his heart. A part he isn’t sure he will ever get back.

-----------------------

“I’ll see you at the Dragon’s Claw?” Ron calls over his shoulder as he walks towards the lift.

“Of course!” It doesn’t matter that he is feeling tired and would rather crawl underneath the blankets as soon as he gets home. The weekly pub night is sacrosanct and to miss it is only permitted if one has a high fever or a loved one is either dying or giving birth. Harry doesn’t want to raise the alarm Ron and Hermione would feel if he begged off. He has only been left by a man again, it isn’t as if someone died. Yes, he feels tired, but he attributes that to the sleepless nights he had in the last couple days, It will get better and a night out with his friends will hopefully bring him some needed distraction.

As he enters the comfortable pub, he smiles even though he feels every single tired bone in his body. The secluded booth, that his group of friend has made theirs in the last ten years beckons to him and he drops onto the worn leather with a groan that would border on obscene in any other setting.

“You look like shit, if you don’t mind the blunt words.” Pansy quips, as she turns to hug him. But the worried frown tells him, that he really doesn’t look well.

“I know you love me Pans, I am just tired, nothing to worry about I promise.”

“How are you holding up?” She holds onto him a bit longer than usual.

“Ey, are you flirting with my girl?” Ron laughs as he comes back to the table with the usual drinks.

“Of course, you know me, for Pansy I would turn straight”, Harry grins.

“What did I miss?” Hermione flies in, harried as always with her hair flying in every direction, and a pile of files in her arms.

“Nothing Mione.” Harry tries to stop the discussion from beginning.

“Harry looks like shit, and I wonder if the fact that Philippe Belancourt has gone back to the MACUSA, without much notice has anything to do with it.” Pansy states in her usual blunt way.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione exclaims. “He didn’t!”

“Well he did.” He plays with his beer. “Got home and he was gone.” Saying it out loud should not hurt as much as it does, but it has only been a week and he is still struggling with the loss.

“He is not worth the dirt under your shoes!” Pansy would bang her fist on the table if it were becoming of a lady. Instead she grips her wineglass so tightly that Harry fears it breaking.

“Pans, a couple years ago you would have said that the other way around.” He gently removes her hand from the glass and hold onto her trembling fingers.

“Well, back then I wasn’t with Ron and didn’t really know you right?”

“True, but now you are, and you do, and I am glad to have you as a friend.”

“Why are we telling us how happy we are, to be friends?” Blaise gently pushes Hermione's files away to make space for him. Harry is once again reminded how much his inner circle has changed in the last ten years. He is deeply grateful for the two Slytherins, who somehow wormed their way into their hearts, first Pansy with a sincere apology in their eighth year, and a gentle patience to wait for Ron when the fast paced romance with Hermione burned out in the same year. Then Blaise with his thirst for knowledge that had rivalled Hermione’s, and a nonchalant way to teach him how to deal with the constant pressure of the press.

As always when he considers the two steadfast friends, his mind strays towards the third part of their former trio, and he wonders for a moment where Draco might be now. He has been gone for so long, and Harry wonders if he should reach out once more. But before he can finalize the thought, he gets drawn back into the conversation.

“Because the blond scumbag we only tolerated for Harry’s sake has gone and broke our favourite Gryffindorks heart!”

“Oy!” Harry laughs against his will, even though his heart still aches a little.

“We love you”, Zabini states it with a rare sincerity that tells Harry more than enough.

“Thanks guys, I appreciate the sentiment. I love you too.”

He raises the glass and takes a sip of his drink. His first thought is that the beer must be spoiled and for a split second he considers spitting it back into his glass. But he forces himself to swallow, in the hope that nobody noticed his disgust.

His grimace must have been too obvious, when Zabini grabs his beer and takes a sip.

“Beer is ok. Are you sick?” These dark blue eyes look deep into his soul, lying is not even an option.

“No, idea. I do feel tired and wrung out. But then I haven’t had much sleep lately.” He tries to shrug it off.

“If you feel like this still after tomorrow, you give me a call.” Pansy’s voice brooks no argument, and Harry just nods.

“Yes, healer.” He gets up and gathers his things.

Blaise rises as well. Pansy seems to send him a telepathic message as he grins at her. “I am bringing him home.”

Harry takes a breath wanting to say that his is fine on his own, but Hermione frowns and Ron is halfway out of his chair as well.

“Don’t argue with me Potter, would you rather that Pansy carries your arse to bed?”

“Ok, ok.” He feels a bit queasy, and the idea of stepping into the floo holds no appeal. So, letting Blaise apparate him home is the better alternative.

The fact that he throws up, immediately after landing shows that something is wrong. Blaise vanishes the mess with quiet efficiency and hands him a glass of water.

Harry takes a quick shower and allows Blaise to put him to bed, the bucket next to the bed, and a glass of water for his comfort. He feels exhausted and drifts of to sleep, when he hears murmured words, and a gentle hand on his way.

“You can never do things the easy way, can you Harry?”

But before he can ask what that means he is fast asleep.

-----------------------

The next morning finds him in much better shape, so instead of calling Pansy he gets up, takes a shower and heads to work. He probably just caught a stomach bug. As he walks towards the ministry the nausea makes a reappearance. He pushes the feeling down, how harmful can it be? There is so much to do today, he has classes with the recruits in the morning and later in the afternoon he has to catch up on all the paperwork. Oh Joy.

He is later than usual, so he hangs his robe at the peg in his office, grabs the cup of tea that Ron put on his desk, and is out by the door. heading towards the training rooms. Sipping the beverage he sighs, the warmth that spread through him not only due to the warm tea. The recruits are waiting for him already.

“Warm up.” He looks at them. “We start with the basic shielding and attack spells for ten and then we will move on to something more complex.”

They grin at him excited and eager, and just for a second he wonders if he was ever that young at eighteen. He feels old and tired at twenty-eight, even his movements are slower than usual, and his breathing is laboured. Maybe he should have stayed in bed for another day. But now there is nothing for it and he is determined to see the lesson through before heading back to the office to catch his breath.

“Ok, guys that was very good.”

They get into combat position, ready to learn the new spells that he has promised them. But before he can get the instructions out, he feels himself swaying, barely holding himself upright.

“Are you alright sir?” One of the recruits has stepped forward in alarm.

“Just caught a bug.” He tries to be reassuring, but his head is ringing and he feels queasy again. “Now I want to show you a special shield charm that will allow you to protect civilians, while still engaging in a fight should it become necessary.”

He gets into position, but even as he raises the wand and intonates the words, he realises that something is dreadfully wrong. His magic usually coiled warm and tight in his arm, ready for any command he is giving, doesn’t react at all. His arm drops back to his side and he feels himself struggle to remain upright, before he finds a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. Jessica, he recalls her name has simply broken rank and caught him before he could take an undignified tumble.

“Sir.” The recruit that asked after his well being before is really alarmed now. She turns towards one of her comrades and snaps out “Tell Healer Parkinson we need her.”

And that is the last thing he hears before everything goes black.

-----------------------

They brought him to the medical station. The smell of disinfectant and healing potions hangs in the air and makes him gag. He rolls over and throws up into the bucket that is placed right next to the bed, as if they knew he would feel like this. When, finally, nothing but bile comes up, he feels a soft mouth cleaning spell. Pansy hands him a glass of water but drinking it exhausts him again and he drops back onto the bed.

“Easy there.” A gentle hand on his brow, that alone tells him that something serious is going on.

“Pansy...” He tries to smile but he feels so so tired. She looks at him, worry evident on her face.

“Well, there is no easy way to tell you this.” If she is concerned about bedside manners he really doesn’t want to know what is going on.

“I need to ask you a very personal question, and if you do not feel comfortable to talk to me about this, I need to refer you to the clinic that you are going to immediately. Because quite honestly I cannot help you with the situation that you are in.”

“Pansy you are scaring me.” And he is not easily scared “Am I dying?” He thought it was just a bug, a magical one yes, because he does feel like a lorry ran him over, but a bug nonetheless.

“Have you been the receiving party in your relations with your partner, and did you forego protective measures?”

It takes him a few seconds to muddle through the stilted question. When he has finally figured out just what she is asking, he can feel the blush rising over his entire body.

“Pansy!”

“I wish I didn’t have to ask this, but it is important.”

“Ok, yes, I was the receiving party, we were not strict about who did what. About the protective measures...Uhm we did cast spells for health…” Her face falls at that, and he realises that she is not happy to hear what he says. ”But that is not what you are asking. Right?”

“No Harry, I was asking about contraception charms.”

“If this is a joke it is not a very good one. Men cannot get pregnant as far as I am aware. We lack the equipment!”

“I am not joking, wish it that I were,” she sighs, and drags her hand through her hair. A gesture that reminds him of Draco so much that it physically hurts.

“Ok.” He is at a loss for words and it must show on his face.

“This is where I have to tell you that yes, men can get pregnant, and that the lack of equipment is exactly why you feel like shit at the moment. Harry, I have to send you to someone who can actually help you, and I can’t stress highly enough that you have to see them immediately. In fact, I will transfer you, as soon as I made a floo call, because I can’t answer the questions that you have, as much as I want to.”

She squeezes his hand, and leaves the room to make the ominous call. When she comes back a soft smile plays around her lips.

“They have a spot for you, and I will make sure that you are actually going there, instead of heading home and trying to sit this out, as you were no doubt trying to do.”

He stares at her, wondering when he got so transparent.

“We have been friends for 10 years, and I have been your healer for four of these. If I don’t know you, then who does?” She bows towards him “This is serious, please keep this in in mind. I wouldn’t do this to you if it were anything but for your best. I hope you can forgive me one day.”

As she says it, he feels the needle enter his arm and he drifts of to sleep so quickly that he can’t even feel outrage at the underhanded tactic.

-----------------------

He is somewhere bright and there must be an open window close by, because a soft breeze caresses his face when he drifts back to consciousness.

“Good you are awake.” The woman bustling into the room, has a friendly smile on her face.

“How long was I out?” He feels disoriented, and struggles into a sitting position. Clucking her tongue the witch gently levitates a pillow into his back.

“Mr Potter, you should not overexert yourself! The healer will be with you shortly, he will answer you questions. Please, take the potions that are on your table, I am bringing you a cup of water!” And with that statement she is gone.

The sheer amount of potion flasks on the table boggle his mind. Surely he doesn’t need to drink all of them now? He still stares at them in shock when the door opens again, and soft steps approach his bed.

Turning towards the newcomer, meaning to ask if he is going to be living solely of potions for the next couple days, but the words are stuck in his throat. Right in front of him stands the man that he hasn’t see in ten years.

“Draco.” It is more of a whisper than a greeting and his voice is horribly rough as if his throat was lined with sandpaper.

“The one and only.” Draco Malfoy still has the aristocratic touch and familiar facial shape, but his edges have been worn away by adulthood. Adjusting the sharp angles of teenager-hood into a man with defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, and elegantly arched eyebrows. He is tall and willowy, with strong forearms visible under his lab coat. His hair no longer slicked back, but artfully styled in soft waves. Harry catches himself staring.

“Hi.” He can’t get his voice to cooperate and ask all of the important questions. But Draco is here and hopefully can help him, with whatever is wrong with him and the baby.

“Well, hi is better than the hex I was expecting.” Draco raises his eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t hex you.” Harry swallows around the lump in his throat. “Sure, you just fucked off and left all of us behind, but it was your life and you clearly didn’t want us in it.” And there it is again, the sharp pain of being abandoned that he has tried to hide away for ten years. But he can’t deal with that at the moment, he needs to find out what is going on and why he needs help.

“However, I definitely seem to need help and I guess that Pansy knew that you are the healer here.”

Draco looks as if he just got punched, but he deserved the blunt honesty.

“I am not a healer here as you put it, but I am the specialist healer they sent for. Yes, and I promise I will help you to my utmost ability.” He takes a deep breath, before he continues. “Harry, what do you know about a male pregnancy?”

“I didn’t know anything about it. Hell, I didn’t even believe men could get pregnant, and if I had known I would have been more careful”

Draco sits down next to the bed, leaning towards the bed.

“Harry you are incredibly lucky, to be alive and to have your baby still alive. I would love to tell you that all you need is a couple potions and then you will be able to carry this child to term, but a male pregnancy needs a familial bond to be viable.”

“What do you mean by this?”

“This baby is alive due to your incredible magical strength, but even your strength is running out.”

“So there is no way to keep this baby alive?” Harry feels tears threatening to spill, and he covers the subtle bump with his hand. He probably shouldn't feel so emotional but the idea of losing this miracle growing inside of him, a chance at a child that will be loved and love him in return...and if he is honest probably the hormones wrecking havoc on his system, make his eyes water.

“There are two options, and I need to know which one to pursue.” Draco looks old suddenly.

“I will give you both and then you tell me what to do. The first one is to arrest the father of your child and to have him kept close to you for the duration of the preg-”

“-I don’t want to drag Philippe back to the UK! He left and that is that. I will write him a letter if you insist that I inform him of the pregnancy.” Harry swallows around the pain.

“If you want nothing to do with him, that is perfectly alright, leaving a pregnant man is a punishable offence in the magical world. He has no right to this child any longer.”

“Then I want him to remain in the US. I am done with him.”

“Ok, so that is out. Then there is only one other option and you probably won’t like it. While you were unconscious I ran a couple tests, and I am in the position to offer my own magical strength to keep this pregnancy going.”

“What?” Harry asks in disbelieve.

“I have the ability to keep your pregnancy going.”

“But what about your work? What about my work?” Harry feels as if the air has been squeezed from his lungs.

“Most of my patients are in stable relationships and only need potions supplements, which I supply via owl. Consultations mean I usually take a floo trip to them, but that should not be an issue either. With you we are in a very unique situation. I can act as donor, but it would require the amount of contact that you would have with a partner.” Draco takes a deep breath before pushing the sentence out. “You could live with me, and floo to the Ministry for another 3 months, but then you need to rest until the birth.”

“You are offering your home to me, your magic…”

“Harry.” There is something in his voice that Harry can’t quite discern, but he knows that walking away from this chance is not something he can do.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yes, I am taking your offer.” Harry looks straight at Draco and there is stark relief on the handsome face, relief and an emotion Harry can't quite place.

-----------------------

The house that Draco lives in is a huge surprise. Harry doesn’t know just what he expected, but it certainly has not been a comfortable cottage with whitewashed walls and roses planted in the front.

He has not been back to the flat that he shared with his ex, and is immensely grateful that Hermione and Ron just gathered his things and took care of the lease. But the conversation Ron had with him while Hermione spelled his things into the closet, remains with him for a long time.

“So now you live with Draco.”

“Yeah, he was kind enough to offer.”

“Just don’t set yourself up for disappointment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harry -- your boyfriends are always, blond, tall and snarky. I love you like a brother and don’t want you to hurt yourself. Maybe you need to think about why you allow him to take care of you in this manner.”

Then he just left him, stewing on the topic. So what if he liked a certain type of men? It was not Ron’s business. Just because he had met his one true love at school, didn’t mean everyone else did too… In his eyes Draco had made it clear that there was no chance for anything between them, with his actions more than words.

He has to admit though that he had missed the former Slytherin desperately, and didn’t understand just why the other man had disappeared directly after their eighth year.

-----------------------

“Tell me Harry, did you really love Philippe?” Draco asks one evening when Harry is curled up on the sofa and soaks up the gentle waves of Draco’s magic. It is warm and tender and feels like an embrace, not that he plans on telling Draco this.

Harry thinks hard about the question, and hesitates with the answer. “I wanted to love him, I wanted to be happy with him and build a family with him. But a part of me was never really his.”

“You were in love with the idea of him,” Draco states bluntly.

“But if I never really loved Philippe, how did I get pregnant in the first place? I thought love was an essential component in the creation of a male pregnancy?” Harry can’t help but asking.

“Usually the deep love between partners is a component, yes. But you have always been an exception to the rule. My best guess is that you desperately wanted to have a family of your own. You wanted a child to love, and that love was enough to create the pregnancy but not enough to sustain it. Somewhere deep inside of yourself you still believe that only someone of your own blood could love you unconditionally.” Draco smiles sadly. “Family is such a huge word. It means loving and accepting someone even when you disagree, and it so much beyond friendship. It means a bond that can’t be broken unless by death. But at the same time it has NOTHING, absolutely nothing, to do with being blood relation.”

“That is rich, coming from you”, Harry bites out.

“You are right, Harry. Most of us learn familial love through blood relation, but when they don’t treat you right, when they hurt you from the beginning, then it is hard. I am so sorry that the people who should have loved you and protected you, couldn’t give you that. For me loving my father... when he hurt me so deeply during my teenage years, was in sharp contrast to the man he was when I was a small child. Until today my feelings for my father are very conflicted. But the bond we have is not broken. I dare say you never developed a familial bond until you met Sirius.”

“Leave him out of this!” It is an instinctive answer.

“Why? Because you accepted Ron and his family as yours?” Draco shakes his head and holds up his hand to interrupt the argument Harry is about to make. “I think by now you have accepted that they are your family, but not when you were a child. Think about it. I am not judging, and you should rest now.”

Harry swallows his protests, the truth is that he still doubts his place in Ron’s and Hermione’s Life from time to time. He knows that they love him. But family that is something else. The connection he had with Sirius was special, and he has an inkling of what Draco is trying to tell him. It pains him to realise that the connection he feels towards Draco is as strong as the one he had with Sirius at least.

“Why did you leave?” It is a desperate deflection from the topic that he doesn’t want to think about right now.

“You really want to talk about that right now?” Draco still has that raised eyebrow, when he is incredulous.

“Well, why not?” Harry turns towards him fully “I missed you, I know you don’t want to hear it, but when you just disappeared…” he trails off, not wanting to put even more pressure on the other man. He doesn’t say that he loved Draco back then, because what good would it do to open the wounds. And he is over it, at least he keeps telling himself that.

“Ok.” Draco takes a deep breath. “I left, because I needed to find out who I was without my past. It sounds selfish and it was, because well, this is me we are talking about, selfish to the bone.”

Harry aches at the disgust he hears in Draco’s voice. “I…”

“No, let me finish. I left because I wanted to figure out how to make up for the horrible mistakes that I had made in my teenage years, and where my passion for potions and research would do good instead of causing pain. But I also knew that I would never leave, if you asked me to stay. I could not risk that. It was easier to leave and not look back, until I was sure that the person that I saw in the mirror each morning was worthy of your friendship.”

“But you never wrote, never answered my letters.” Harry hates how small his voice sounds.

“I couldn’t risk it, because if you had asked me just once to come back, I would have dropped everything. As much as I wanted to hear from you, I thought making something out of myself was more important for the first couple years. And then it became so difficult to start a letter to you. I was too much of a coward.” Draco sounds tired “I kept your letters, but never opened them.”

“Oh.” Harry feels warmth at the admission that he obviously had such an impact on the other man.

“Have you been back in England for long?” He almost thinks he know the answer, but needs to hear it from the other man

“No, I told you – I consult all around the world, and when Pansy called me, threatening to eviscerate me if I didn’t help you, there was no question about getting to you as fast as possible. Not that that threat was needed.”

“So, you didn't live in England? For the last ten years?”

“My main stay was in France for the last couple years. This cottage here is my refuge from the Manor. I couldn’t spend a night there, so I bought this lovely place. My patients live all over the world, and as I said before I often floo to them or they come and stay in the clinic that is closest to them.”

“Will you stay now?” Harry takes a deep breath. “I know it is unfair to ask you, and I don’t want you to feel pressured, but we all missed you so much, and you can’t possibly still think that you are not worthy of being in our lives!”

Then a thought crosses his mind that makes his heart stutter.

“Unless you have someone in your life.” It seems so obvious that he just keeps talking, without registering the shock on Draco’s face “Of course, your partner is in France, I am such a selfish idiot keeping you here.”

“Harry stop! There is no one in my life!” Draco grabs his hands. He stares at Harry’s face, as if looking for something. He breathes deeply “There has never been a relationship, since I left. I never let anybody close enough. Yes, there have been one night stands, I mean I haven’t lived celibate, but an emotional connection? I couldn’t. “

“You have never loved anybody?” Harry can’t believe what he is hearing.

“I didn’t say that.” Draco doesn’t look at him, but continues to talk at his hands “I focused on my work, on my patients. They are so much in love that they create a miracle, and it is my job to make sure that they get a happy ending.”

“Like you are doing for me?”

“Nobody deserves a happy ending more than you Harry.”

There is something so raw in the former Slytherins voice, that Harry doesn’t think about the next words, he just needs to know.

“You said you have loved before, do you love me?”

“Harry.”

“Because on the small chance that you do, let me tell you, that there has never been anybody who has infuriated me more than you, that all of my attempts at relationships have been with men who are tall, blond and snarky, but that not one of them has really captured me, because they did not know me as you did. I missed you the moment you left, but I get why you had to. Do me a favour and read the letters. Once you are done, answer my initial question.”

He gets up and leaves the room, his heart beating wildly. He can’t deny that he wonders if they have always been going in this direction, but Draco’s magic feels like the anchor he has always searched for and he feels complete in ways that he has only known during eighth year, when Draco was his pillar of strength.

Sitting in the garden for what feels like hours, he waits.

The arm that pulls him back into a warm chest comes as a welcome surprise, and he doesn’t fight it. He relaxes into the warmth that surrounds him like a soft blanket.

“You wanted an answer.” There is a hitch in Draco’s voice and he only nods softly.

“I think part of me, has always been yours. Even when we were at odds, I turned towards you, because you... well, you are just you. You made me work for your attention, and you made me want to be a better person. When we came back in eight year, I loved to make you smile. So, maybe I did love you back then.”

Draco tightens his embrace a bit, and Harry melts even more against him.

“When Pansy called me, telling me you needed help, I knew that I would do everything in my power to get this pregnancy to term for you and your lover. I initally thought you had found love and even though it hurt, I was not going to let that pain keep me from doing my best. Because you deserve to be happy.”

Harry leans against Draco fully now, trusting him to keep him safe and a gentle hand cradles his bump.

“When I saw you unconscious, saw what you had done to yourself, everything inside of me reached out and even if you didn’t want me in your life after this baby is born, I needed to make sure that you get through this unscathed. I have no definite proof, but I believe that the life-debt between us played into it as well. So, the connection that we have had ever since you pulled me from the fire, acted in the best way possible.”

“So, you do love me.” Harry smiles fully, knowing that happiness colours his voice.

“Hm, guess I still do yes. But I won’t ask anything of you. I know your letters said you loved me back then, but…”

“There is no but!” Harry twists in Draco’s arms and looks at him. “What about the fact that all of my boyfriends, have been poor imitations of you, did you not understand? I have been trying to replace you, according to my friends, pretty much since you left. Part of me has never let go of you.”

“We are an odd pair.” Draco whispers.

“Well, yes, we are both pretty messed up, but with you I want to work at getting better. You ground me and you make me want to be ok. And I very much want you in this baby’s life and mine.”

“You always had me. And you will for as long as you want me.” Draco kisses his cheek softly.

And for the first time ever since Draco left, Harry feels entirely whole and unquestionably happy in his own skin.