Chapter Text
Disclaimer: Please remember that this is a story. It does not reflect anything outside of this fictional writing. This story mentions some sensitive topics and how I felt a character may react to them. If that isn’t something you wish to read right now, please click back and prioritize your mental health.
Completed. Six chapters. All comments welcome! Please let me know what you think.
Graveyard Flowers
Chapter 1 / 6
Harry blinked owlishly. His hand trembled as he laid it carefully, gently, over his lower stomach. There was no way, right? This sort of thing just wasn’t possible. Shouldn’t be possible. The Healer sitting behind the desk in front of him remained silent, calmness painted on her features. She seemed content to watch him freak out.
It isn’t- It can’t be. . . How can a guy get pregnant? The biology, the anatomy. . . A frown drew Harry’s youthful features down and down. There were only scant fragments he could recall from poorly taught “sciences” at primary school. Yet, without a shadow of doubt, he is absolutely indisputably confident that only women can get pregnant. Is this some kind of joke?
Relief flooded Harry’s stomach. Ah, it was all starting to make sense. Ron will come running in any minute now. He’ll laugh and laugh about how badly he had gotten Harry this time. Just another battle won in their years-long prank war. A quick glance between the still closed and the Healer had Harry questioning whether he’s still so sure of himself.
“You’re. . . certain?”
How can he be five weeks, err, along?
“Mr Potter, I understand this has come as quite a shock. The last natural male pregnancy recorded was over two hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Two hundred and fifty. . .” Harry trailed off, eyes fixing behind the Healer. She had quite a few impressive looking certificates hooked upon the light green wall. He supposed she must be highly accomplished. Surely, she knows what she’s talking about. “What do you mean natural?”
The Healer cleared her throat. “Natural male pregnancy isn’t technically common, Mr Potter. It’s truly exceptionally rare.” She continued in a somewhat condescending tone that she probably thought to be comforting. “Many couples seek potions or spells to achieve such a fleet, but even then, their chances are extremely low. Low getting pregnant and lower carrying to term.”
Harry grimaced, feeling sick to his stomach.
There were Wizards, people, who would give anything to be in his position. Nameless, faceless individuals that would be overcome with joy at this moment. He could picture how they would embrace, crying on each other’s shoulders. They would shake the Healer’s hand and thank her profusely for the ‘good’- no, fantastic news.
Bile bit the back of his throat, clawing mercilessly. All Harry could muster was dread. Dammit, he’s twenty- twenty-one in three months. He had plans. He had dreams. Only yesterday, he had been owled an acceptance letter to the Healer internship right here in this bloody Hospital. How had his life shifted so violently, so quickly.
Harry blinked, focusing once again on the Healer’s voice.
“. . .However, it is the amount of sheer magic power required to facilitate a completely natural male pregnancy that is, in itself, quite a feat.”
“So, I’m a freak even by Wizard standards?” Harry muttered bitterly. “Just great.”
The Healer- Healer Mountford? - looked to him in shock. A brief scowl washed over her face.
“No, Mr Potter, it seems I have failed to explain this clearly. Your situation is a rarity, there are few wizards capable of becoming pregnant even with magical interference and fewer still that have the opportunity to realise they possess such an ability.” She smiled softly. “Take some time. There’s a lot to think about. We need to discuss some of the dangers of magical pregnancies, but nothing has to be decided today. But if you ultimately determine the time is not right for you-“
Harry’s eyes widen in disgust as he stood up, fists clenched by his sides and chair falling down behind him. “-I’m not getting rid of my baby!”
“Mr Potter, please clam down, I wasn’t suggesting-“
Whatever Healer Mountford had to say was drowned out by the sound of Harry’s footsteps echoing down the corridor and the slamming of the door behind him. He veered his way towards the exit.
“-Wait! Mr Potter, please! There’s more I’d like to discuss with you!”
Harry’s lips twisted downwards and begun to shake. This might be his only chance for a family. A family of his own. How dare she even imply he needed to contemplate whether to keep his child. That he should spare a single moment to consider something so, so- urgh.
The off-white waiting room of St Mungo’s disappeared behind a backdrop of green flames. Harry stepped into the sitting room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and froze. The receptionist’s voice still rung in his ears and the smell of anti-septic rolled off his clothes.
Fists still clenching and unclenching at his sides, Harry released a shaky breath.
What now?
***
Three weeks later
The sight of Draco Malfoy laughing warmly with Astoria Greengrass really, really, really got under Harry’s skin.
Lanterns danced overhead as the party below spun in full swing. A charity ball, for the Ministry’s highest most pompous officials’ latest noble cause, was a dangerous place to make a scene.
Astoria smiled in that shy, familiar way Hermione does whenever Ron compliments her. Draco laughed loudly as she flicked her hair oh so flirtishly to the side.
Harry’s fingers tightened around his champagne glass. What in the Hallows could she have said that was so damn funny? His teeth clenched as his thoughts continued to spiral.
How dare that blonde git act like nothing had ever happened between them? How could he pretend that two months of running around each other and then dating for nine months hadn’t been real? To just one day, out of the blue, decide he didn’t want anything to do with Harry anymore.
To ignore him.
Four days was all it took for Harry to go batshit crazy from the silent treatment. No owls, no firecalls, no explanation. Followed by two weeks of acting like a crazed stalker. Trying to catch a glimpse of Draco, trying to cross paths with him at the Ministry, showing up at restaurants just to see the blonde’s face.
Eventually, he had cornered Draco in a particularly cramped supply cupboard at the Auror department. In that moment, he considered begging, pleading to know what he had done wrong. His anger at Draco had long since turned to desperation. Pregnancy can really change a guy. However, his efforts had been nothing but vain. Draco didn’t let him speak a word, choosing rather to hex Harry within an inch of his life.
The restraining order he slapped over Harry’s head felt like more of a bonus.
A part of Harry knew he should have expected this from Draco fucking Malfoy. Their secret relationship, which had been the blonde prat’s idea in the first place, was doomed to end in fireworks. Except- it hadn’t. No explosion, no fistfight in the street. Just dead silence and cold spiteful words.
“Say the fuck away from me, Potter. Your presence is nauseating.”
After the brief court hearing and subsequent papers, Ron had laughed. His best mate told him to frame the restraining order and rest easy knowing Malfoy couldn’t go within twenty-five feet of him. It took all Harry’s willpower to not correct Ron. Only he will be arrested if their paths cross a little too closely.
It just seemed so final. So absolute. Like months of his life meant nothing. Like they never even happened.
Sometimes at night, Harry laid there wondering if he’d dreamt everything up. Only the two of them knew about their stolen moments in empty office rooms. No one saw their long evening walks or heard their seemingly endless talks. Being with Draco had just felt so easy, so natural. The idea that it had all been fake cut Harry so deeply, he’s surprised there’s no blood.
At least, the Ministry’s charity ball was deemed ‘exceptional circumstances’. Harry watched sourly as Draco offered Astoria his arm and led her to the dance floor.
Ron had put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and told him to let it go. They weren’t kids anymore. They weren’t at Hogwarts playing games anymore. Malfoy, although still a pretention pounce, had made good on his promise to engage with the Ministry’s Youth Rehabilitation Programme. He’d finished school, was training as an Auror, making something of himself. He was alright by Ron.
Harry had smiled weakly, tried not to let anything show in his eyes and nodded in silent agreement. Afterall, he hadn’t told even told Ron that he’d been dating Draco. His mate just thought he was dredging up their schoolboy animosity.
The music changed, something a bit slower that jumped along Harry's nerves straight to his chest. His eyes widened and his stomach lurched. This was their song. The first time Draco had grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. They had twirled and swayed in the kitchen at Grimmauld place. Sirius’ beat up radio serenading such a private, personal moment. Harry had rested his forehead on the crook of Draco’s shoulder and felt so safe. It was the first time Draco said, ‘I love you’.
Tears collected in Harry’s eyes as Astoria lent forward to kiss Draco passionately. She was beautiful. Truly. He had never really stood a chance competing, unknowingly, with her. The black dress hugged her gorgeous figure as she spun in circles under Draco’s gentle direction. How long had Draco’s thoughts wandered to her? How many times, when they were together, did he think of being with her instead?
The champagne in Harry’s glass had warmed. He had responsibilities now. He was pregnant. He didn’t have the luxury to feel jealous of Astoria Greengrass.
If Draco was so ready to throw him away, what would he do if he found out Harry was with child? His child. Would he demand Harry got rid of the baby? Would he ignore the child as he ignored Harry? Or worse, would be deny the child was his? Accuse Harry of being unfaithful. A cheater.
Harry’s mind raced with thoughts.
Would he try take away Harry’s rights, take his child from him once they were born?
Anxiety gripped him. It’s not impossible. Many pureblood laws were still mostly unchanged despite the Ministry’s drastic attempts for reform. Strangely enough, pureblood parental rights legislation hadn’t been top of the list after the War. The Malfoy’s had influence, a surplus of wealth, and wizarding law on their side to take Harry’s child from him.
He’d cried when he read the public records. Distraught as he went through case after case of unwed mothers having their children taken by force. Powerless against a Government that gave sole custody to their pureblood parent. A cruel, outdated law meant to protect magical bloodlines.
The name Harry Potter would carry some weight in court. But the law still stood, and until it changed, there was no judge who could legally rule in his favour. No way in hell Harry would cower and give the blonde git the chance to take his child.
Turning around and discarding his untouched drink, Harry gave very little thought to what the papers might say. It would not be the first Charity ball he left unfashionable early. Ron and Hermione, ah hell, all the Weasleys, Neville, Luna- they’ll have to find it in their hearts to forgive him. One day. Because England’s Wizarding Laws cannot reach him if he isn’t in the country.
The idea had swirled in Harry’s head. Mixed in with the chaos. But tonight, after watching how blissfully happy Draco Malfoy was without him, it had taken root. Spreading like wildfire till all Harry felt was fierce determination.
A life away from the Wizarding World. Where no one stares, no one points, his every move isn’t documented and critiqued in printed ink. It seemed surreal. Almost out of reach. None the less, plans begun rapidly blooming. He’d have to go unnoticed, find somewhere remote, cut contact for now.
If he talked to his friends, they’ll talk him down. If he told them of his pregnancy, they’ll demand to know the father. It won’t be forever. Just until he could get his head straight. He’ll leave letters. They deserve to know that he’s safe and choosing to leave freely. Hopefully they’ll forgive his selfishness. Hopefully.
One day Harry will tell his loved ones what happened. How he had everything and how it all became lost to him. But that wasn’t today.
The rush of apparition left Harry’s hair windswept. He stalked down the empty pavement, black suite catching the orange hue from streetlights.
As Godric’s Hollow came into murky view, it almost seemed drenched in shadows. Harry waved his hand to disperse the wards. There was nothing here for him now but the photographs of his parents. Appariting inside, Harry rummaged through drawers, searching for his my precious album. Instead, his fingers collided with a small box.
Unable to look at it, Harry turned his head away. Just another reminder of how foolish he was to trust Draco Malfoy.
The next drawer down had the album neatly packed under a set of bathroom towels. Sighing in relief, Harry ran his fingers over the leather spine. He then tucked it under his arm.
With one last heavy look around his bedroom, Harry’s eyes welled up. His life since Hogwarts etched in every memento. From the paint on the walls to the duvet covers- it was all truly own design. A reflection of him more detailed than any mirror. The days of restoring his parent’s home danced through his head. Tea and toast for dinner, too exhausted to cook properly, Mr and Mrs Weasley stopping by with meals when they found out. Ron and Hermione offering their insight with every decision. Luna bringing over her handmade dreamcatchers and windchimes. Neville helping him paint the front room. It all felt so distant now.
Closing his eyes, Harry pushed everything to the back of his mind. It’s time to go. The emergency portkey was heavier in his pocket than usual. Reaching in and tracing his fingertips over Sirius’ enchanted pendent, Harry muttered the activation spell.
Godric’s Hollow fell silent once more.
***