Work Text:
01
“If that insufferably arrogant brain of yours is functioning at all—which, to be precise, it never has—get up, Potter! Or Gryffindor will lose twenty points for your laziness, you’ll be sacked as an Auror, and your husband will divorce you...”
Harry’s hand emerged from under the duvet, groping around until it found his wand. With a slight wave, Snape’s spiteful, icy drawl was cut off mid-sentence. Honestly, what had ever possessed him to customise an alarm clock with Snape’s voice? That decision definitely ranked among the top five worst mistakes he’d ever made. Snape was never on time; sometimes he woke Harry at five in the morning, but more often than not, he made him late. The man seemed utterly committed to making Harry’s life difficult, whether by deducting House points, jinxing him out of a job—but none of that really mattered. In the six years since he’d left Hogwarts, Harry had grown accustomed to that peculiar voice. Well, perhaps with the exception of that very last part.
Draco would never divorce me. Harry stretched, pushing his feet down and arching his chest up, the back of his head resting lazily against the headboard. His vision shifted from blurry to clear, taking in the antique brass navigation lamp Draco had brought back from Spain and the cream-coloured plaster ceiling. Harry blinked a few times, now fully awake.
"Harry,"Draco said, lying on his side facing him, his soft hair like a river of pale gold flowing across the white pillow,"before I'm driven to the point of demanding separate bedrooms, when exactly do you plan to replace that alarm?"His lips moved, but his upper eyelids remained firmly glued to the lower ones, showing no intention of opening.
Harry thought for a moment."George told me it had a ten-year lifespan when he sold it to me, so maybe in about four years? I thought you'd be pleased to hear Snape's voice. The potion master's star pupil, and all that?"Harry raised his eyebrows, watching Draco with amused anticipation.
Draco's eyelids fluttered. Harry suspected that if his husband were fully conscious, he'd already be rolling his eyes at him—that classic expression of displeasure Harry knew so well. The thought made a smile ripple across Harry's face like water.
"That doesn't mean I want to hear anyone else insult my husband, Harry. Even if it's the voice of my favourite teacher from my school days."Draco's breathing was perfectly even; anyone else might have been fooled into thinking he was telling the truth.
Harry studied the delicate curve of his lashes and the unusually serene profile half-hidden in sleep, a wave of dissatisfaction rising in him. Under the covers, his toes began nudging insistently at Draco's calf."The truth, Draco."
"You're so tedious, Harry."Draco tried to turn away from the annoying pressure, but Harry caught his wrist and pulled him close. Draco tumbled into his embrace as effortlessly as a spring roll wrapper being rolled.
"What a pity, then, that you're already married to this tedious man,"Harry replied with feigned regret. His muscular arm tightened around Draco's waist, while his other hand slipped inside Draco's robe, taking advantage. Before Draco could muster even a token resistance, Harry's kiss descended.
A hot tongue slipped into Draco's mouth, not delving deep, but lazily swirling around his own, rubbing against it again and again as they shared the day's first kiss in the morning light. Harry's hand—one of Draco's favourite parts of him—stroked over the gentle slope of his stomach, travelled north, and came to rest on his nipple, teasing it. Draco still had more sleep to get, and Harry didn't want to rouse him too thoroughly. He contented himself with slowly tormenting the soft flesh of Draco's chest, his fingers skimming, waiting to see it push more prominently against the thin silk of his pyjamas. Was it Harry's imagination, or had it grown a bit fuller recently? It felt softer, too, as if it had changed from panna cotta to sponge cake.
Draco arched upward a couple of times in response to Harry's touch, his golden head coming to rest on Harry's pillow. The duvet, wrapped around them like a giant ice-cream cone, now held two distinct flavours—chocolate and vanilla. A sliver of floating light pierced the gap in the curtains, illuminating tiny, dancing dust motes. Draco's hair was a haze of blinding gold, threatening to grate itself into Harry's very pupils.
Thoroughly roused by Harry's ministrations, the last vestiges of sleep faded from Draco's eyes. The misty grey irises shimmered as if stirred by a breeze, gradually brightening.
He took in the sight of Harry:his messy hair forming a perfect, perky little heart at the crown; the once youthful, lean lines of his face hardened into straighter, more severe angles after his Auror training; the scar on his forehead a faint white memory; a turbulent green surging within his almond-shaped eyes. His nose was still a bit short, and the stubble he hadn't shaved had resurfaced overnight, dusting his upper lip like the pale, jade-like shell of a dragonfly.
Draco kissed him once on each cheek."Did no one ever teach you that a good morning kiss belongs on the cheek, not the lips, Harry?"
Harry grinned and shook his head."My first husband might have mentioned it. Since he doesn't always listen to me either, I figured I was free to interpret."
"I haven't brushed my teeth yet. My mouth is foul,"Draco stated with utter seriousness.
"That is the very last thing you need to worry about, baby."Harry pinched Draco's jaw between his thumb and forefinger, the sharp point of it slotting perfectly into the V of his hand. He applied a little pressure, forcing Draco's lips into a small, duck-like pout. Harry leaned in and planted a firm, smacking kiss on them, complete with a loud mwah sound.
The playful kiss ended. Draco's lips parted from his, though their foreheads remained touching."What time is it, Harry? If I find out that fake-Severus alarm of yours woke me before seven-twenty again, I'm going to force it into early retirement."
Harry didn't answer immediately. Those clear, green-glass eyes were still fixed on Draco, but the amusement in them had dimmed a few degrees. He pushed himself up on his bare torso, looking first to one side of Draco's head, then the other. When he lifted the pillow, he was met with a short, sharp yelp from Draco, whose head was still resting on it.
It wasn't on the bed. It wasn't on the nightstand. The Auror-instinct inside Harry, usually dormant at home, twanged like a plucked string."Where's your wand?"
Draco shrugged, unconcerned."I might have left it in the basement yesterday. Or somewhere else."A thought occurred to him, and he fixed Harry with a round-eyed, deeply dissatisfied look, recalling the long list of similar offences Harry had committed during their cohabitation."You should be familiar with the concept, Harry. You've done it no less than a thousand times, after all."
This explanation didn't convince Harry in the slightest. He pressed on,"But you've never once mislaid your wand. You said a wand is a pure-blood wizard's life,"Harry pointed at himself,"and that a half-blood like me could never truly understand."
"Everyone makes mistakes,"Draco explained, unruffled, as if he had anticipated this very question."If you remember every single word I've ever said, then I might start to suspect the Saviour of the wizarding world has been thoroughly corrupted by pure-blood ideology."
Draco's tone was as calm and unreadable as his mist-grey eyes, offering Harry no crack in his composure. Harry pinched a bit of Draco's cheek, applying some pressure."I haven't been corrupted by pure-blood ideology, but I've definitely been corrupted by a pure-blood. And the Draco I know doesn't easily admit to being wrong. Are you a Boggart in disguise?"
Draco's response was to shove his shoulder, hard."That hurt, you barbarian. I really ought to sue you before the Wizengamot for that. And remind me again why I married you."
"Hmm..."Harry made a show of thinking it over."Wasn't it because I proposed and you said yes through floods of tears?"
"You promised you'd never bring that up again, not even at our graves!"Draco hissed through gritted teeth.
Harry's mood lifted a little. He ducked his head, chuckling quietly, the faint ghost of a dimple still lingering at the corner of his mouth. But the thought that Draco might be keeping something from him resurfaced, bringing a thread of concern with it.
His expression turned serious."Just let me know you're safe, alright?"he said to Draco."If you're dealing with anything difficult, you have to tell me. I might not be able to help, but at the very least, I can share the burden with you."
If Harry weren't that lion with the overprotective streak, he wouldn't be Harry at all. The sheer sincerity in his words sent a pang of guilt through Draco. This was the first time since their wedding that he had actively kept something from Harry. Hermione's voice echoed in his mind again, her grave warnings a steady counterpoint to Harry's open concern. In the end, Draco decided the secret was still necessary.
"I swear on my honor as a Malfoy that under Auror Potter's... thorough protection, there exists no entity that could threaten my personal safety. Is this adequate?"Draco said with meticulous caution.
Harry was about to nod when he heard Draco smoothly amend,"A person, however, might be another matter."
After the war, Lucius had once again leveraged his talent for opportunistic maneuvering—supported by a series of Gringotts withdrawals labeled as donations but serving as outright bribes—to secure a position as War Planning Advisor in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. The Malfoy family's tangible influence grew with the tide, yet their reputation remained distinctly unsavory. Harry had learned to tune out remarks like, "For a Galleon, a Malfoy will do anything—from betraying You-Know-Who to sticking his head up his own arse." He found it easier to ignore, especially since public venom was so clearly aimed at Lucius and not Draco. In fact, Harry couldn't even claim he didn't enjoy the quips. But when verbal daggers materialized into actual curses, when wands were aimed at Draco instead of Lucius—that was an entirely different matter.
Harry's face hardened instantly, and he opened his mouth to demand who was targeting Draco.
Draco raised a finger to his own lips."But I assure you, it's nothing bad, and I can handle it."
"Really?"Harry asked, half-skeptical, half-convinced.
"As true as if I'd taken Veritaserum."
"Alright, you have my trust."Harry raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, pretending to let the matter drop. Inside, however, he was already determined to investigate every detail once he returned to his office—to find out exactly who Draco had met recently and who had the audacity to threaten him. Draco rarely goes out, his meals are handled by the house-elf, he shops by mail order, and his potions commissions are all private customizations. The list can't be very long. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't snap out of it until his husband drew out his name in a long, deliberate drawl.
"Now, Harry. Could you, like a normal person, just cast a bloody Tempo? So your withering husband can see if he should go back to sleep or descend to the lab for a while, hmm?"
Harry's hand, which had been kneading the nape of Draco's neck, ruffled the hair there in the process. In the absence of a conflict, Harry was most obedient to him."Of course, your Highness."
The holly wand slashed through the air almost lightning-fast. A giant 07:47, blazing like a neon sign, illuminated both their pupils.
"Merlin's beard!"Harry swore, bolting upright in bed. He didn't even bother with slippers, bare feet hitting the floor as he snatched yesterday's trousers from the clothes stand. He gave them a sharp shake, stepped into them, and grabbed a belt—he had no idea if it was his or Draco's.
Draco watched the spectacle with amusement, his voice languid."It seems your fake-Snape alarm has been spared. Unfortunately, Roberts's mouth is far fouler than even a fake Snape."
"Ugh! Cease the commentary, Draco,"Harry retorted, fastening the belt."Now, remind me again why I married you?"
"Because I am clever, handsome, wealthy, witty, mature, possess keen observational skills, and a creativity you can scarcely hope to match..."
Harry cut off Draco's torrent of words with his lips, pulling away after a brief touch. He asked the question he now asked every weekday morning."And what do we say after the goodbye kiss, my first and only husband?"
Draco smoothed down the two stubborn locks of hair that formed a heart-shaped tangle on Harry's head and straightened his tie."Come home early, Harry."
02
Harry rushed into his office, his eyes flying to the wall clock. One hand pointed at the eight, the other at the twelve. Eight o'clock sharp. Not late. He let out a long sigh of relief, collapsing into his high-backed chair and greeting his partner at the next desk.
"Hey, Ron. Morning."
"Morning, Harry."
Ron was buried in a mountain of parchment on his desk, only two ginger-haired crown-whorls visible. His voice emerged from within the paper fortress."I hope you were having some sort of morning business with the little ferret that I don't want to hear about, which made you miss breakfast. Because I brought you some."
Harry's eyes instantly locked onto a brown paper bag perched precariously on the very summit of his own, equally mountainous, pile of paperwork. He snatched it up. It was still warm.
"Thanks, mate."
Harry ripped off the cling film. Inside, black sesame seeds, bread crust, lettuce, scrambled egg, and ham were neatly layered, slathered in rich salad cream, all cut into two sharp triangles. It was a sandwich.
Harry shoved a large bite into his mouth. After a few chews, he swallowed it down. An intensely sour, spicy, clearly oversalted taste, laced with the distinct aroma of caraway seeds, slid down his esophagus into his stomach. By the time Harry realized what he had eaten, it was too late. He hammered his chest with his fist, trying to force the recently swallowed food back up. Stomach acid burned the back of his throat, making it worse.
"Are you poisoned?"Ron looked up at the commotion and, despite his confusion, grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it to him.
Vomiting was no longer an option. Harry unscrewed the cap and gulped down nearly half the bottle. He used most of the remainder to gargle repeatedly, only feeling the fiery sensation in his esophagus subside once the water was gone.
"I was going to ask you the same thing,"Harry said, still coughing."Since when do you like pickled cucumber sandwiches? Or did you just feel like pranking me?"
"Pickled cucumber sandwich?"Ron scratched his head, confused, and walked over."But what I brought you was clearly..."
The words died in his throat. Ron looked down at the object still clutched in Harry's hand:black sesame seeds, bread crust, lettuce, scrambled egg, ham, and the pie-shaped, distinctly segmented pickled cucumber now revealed by the bite Harry had taken, missing a corner.
"A pickled cucumber sandwich!"Ron's shriek was piercing.
Before Harry could demand an explanation, Ron descended into a panic.
"Merlin, no, no, no, no, no! By Merlin's beard, Hermione is going to send me to meet him personally!"Ron's face was a mask of despair, his eyebrows furrowing into a deep inverted'V'as if someone had just bitten his backside.
"Hermione's involved in this?"Harry raised his eyebrows, skeptical.
Ron wore a pained, constipated expression, looking utterly defeated."I only made one pickled cucumber sandwich. If you're eating it, then the one at home is the normal one. You just ate her breakfast."
"Isn't that a good thing, mate?"Harry rolled his eyes."You should be grateful it was me. The taste was... something else. If it had been Hermione, you'd really be done for."
"I'm done for already!"Ron retorted."I don't know how to explain this..."
"Then give me the short version,"Harry urged.
Ron sighed heavily."Hermione craves these right now. If she doesn't get one in the morning, she gets... volatile."
If Ron hadn't been thoughtful enough to bring him breakfast, the mix-up wouldn't have happened. Seeing his friend's genuine distress, a twinge of guilt pricked at Harry. He nudged the brown paper bag with his elbow."Well... do you want to take it back then?"
Ron shot him a look of pure disbelief."Even if you are my best mate, that doesn't mean I want my wife eating your leftovers. You keep it and share it with the little ferret. The sandwich and your saliva."
Harry thought about it and conceded the point. He used the tip of his wand to carefully pick out the remaining pickled cucumber slices. He took another bite. Much better.
"Since when does Hermione have a taste for this?"he asked casually."Back at the Gryffindor table, she wouldn't even touch canned food."
The listener found meaning where the speaker intended none. Ron's face fell into a conflicted grimace, torn between secrecy and honesty with his best friend."Well... Hermione made me promise not to tell you just yet, mate. Sorry, I can't go back on my word. You know how she gets when she's angry, if she found out—"
"Stop—"Harry cut off Ron's impending lecture, thinking how much time with Hermione had affected him; he was starting to sound like another version of Hogwarts:A History. Harry looked at the overwhelming sympathy and guilt brimming in Ron's eyes and thought, Just like Hermione.
Of course, that didn't mean Harry was happy about being excluded by his two best friends. He felt a little hurt. Coupled with the fact that Draco was also keeping something from him, a spark of irritation flared. Harry really wanted to shout, Why does everyone have their own little secrets?!
"Alright, Ron. I can tell something's going on between you and Hermione, and you've promised not to tell me."
Harry deliberately paused to observe Ron, and sure enough, he saw even more guilt cloud his friend's features. Silently apologizing to his best mate, Harry pressed his advantage."I'm not trying to make you break your promise, or ruin how she sees you, okay? It's just... I thought we were always in this together. You know, a team. The Golden Trio, like Rita Skeeter always said. Even after Hermione married you and became a Weasley, that never changed for me. Hell, I'm practically half a Weasley myself, right? Maybe things are just moving too fast. I never thought I'd be the one left out. But seriously, I get it. I really do. You need your own lives, your own space. And if I'm the one making you feel pressured, or like you can't trust me... that's on me, not you. Draco doesn't fully trust me either, mate..."
"Harry!"Ron finally cut him off, unable to listen any longer."If you think for one second that Hermione and I don't consider you family, then you're the biggest fool in the wizarding world! And you'll always be a Weasley, or Mum would have my head, followed by yours! I don't know what's going on between you and the ferret, but if you're having marital problems, talk to him, alright? Buy some flowers or tea or something. He's a git, sure, but it's not like he's completely unreasonable... Okay, fine, sometimes he is completely unreasonable, but you're the one who chose him! I told you to think it over, and over, and over again. Merlin's beard! You know what I mean! Even if you did get divorced and those shady Malfoy lawyers took every last Knut, you'd still have me. There'll always be a bed for you at our place, mine and Hermione's."
All I wanted was to know what you and Hermione are hiding from me. How did we end up with me divorcing Draco? Harry was privately exasperated by Ron's inability to focus. He patiently listened to the entire speech only to find there wasn't a single word in it he actually liked.
"I don't want to divorce him,"Harry pulled the conversation back on track."It's just... I can feel he's hiding something from me lately, just like you and Hermione are."Harry fixed a deeply resentful look on Ron.
"Harry, believe me, I want to tell you. After Hermione told me the good news, you were the first person I wanted to share it with. You still are. And it's not targeted at you, mate. No one knows yet. Hermione won't allow it. My hands are tied; she's the boss in our house."
Harry keenly latched onto one word."So it's good news?"
Ron nodded vigorously."Of course! After everything we've been through, if it were bad news, you'd have been the first to know. Families share hardships and risks, remember when Dad got bitten by Nagini?"
Ron thought this would be comforting, but it only made Harry more upset."So you remember me for the bad times, but not the good ones? Unacceptable. I'm going to see Hermione after work and ask her straight out what this'good news'is that requires keeping everyone, including her best friend, in the dark."
Ron panicked at that."You can't! You can't upset Hermione right now. She hasn't been eating or sleeping well, her nerves are shot. She finally craved something, and I messed up the sandwich. If you go to her, she'll know I slipped up, and she'll be upset. It's Hermione. I don't want her stressed."
"Hermione's sick?"Harry asked, concerned."How is her being unwell good news? You should be taking her to St. Mungo's, not sitting here in the office with me—"
Halfway through his sentence, Harry's voice cut off abruptly.
Hermione's poor condition, Ron's hesitant"good news"and the"right now,"and that unbearably sour, salty, spicy pickled cucumber... all the clues connected in his mind with an electric crackle, exploding into a startling truth.
His eyes scanned Ron's face, searching for final confirmation, their green hue intense."So... Hermione is... pregnant?"
03
Ron's expression hovered between shock and relief, almost a shout."You finally figured it out! I was beginning to think you were a bit thick for an Auror, Harry!"
"I've never been pregnant!"Harry defended himself, his eyes wide."And the first married woman my age I know went and told her husband to keep it from me!"
Ron's defiant energy instantly deflated. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes darted around, avoiding Harry's gaze."Hey, don't blame Hermione entirely, mate."Catching Harry's"I'm waiting to hear your explanation"glare, Ron seemed to shrink further."And don't blame me, either."
"Go on,"Harry said, settling back to watch him.
"Merlin's beard, I'm not lying! It's a Muggle thing. Hermione said babies aren't stable before three months. Telling people too early can lead to disappointment... or bad luck. Have you heard of that?"
Harry nodded."My Aunt Petunia's soap operas mentioned it."
"So it's a real thing? Muggle babies are more likely to... in the first three months..."Ron lowered his voice, as if the mere thought was enough to break his heart,"...miscarry?"
"I'm not sure, maybe."Harry shrugged, then promptly covered his ears.
"That's terrible for Muggles!"Ron's voice rose high enough to nearly lift the ceiling, allowing Harry to successfully escape the auditory assault.
Harry lowered his arms, feeling there was something off about Ron's logic."Why just Muggles? Doesn't it happen to wizards?"
"Of course not, Harry,"Ron explained."Wizard babies are protected from the moment they're just a single..."Ron made a small'O'shape with his hands.
"Fertilized egg?"Harry ventured.
"Yeah, that! From the moment a wizard baby is just the size of a fertilized egg, it starts drawing magic from the mother. That magic protects them. Whether they turn out to be a wizard or a Squib, they're born safely. Auntie Muriel said that back when St. Mungo's couldn't perform terminations, pure-blood families would detect the baby's magical core early. If it was there, it was a wizard; if not, a Squib. But because of the mother's magic, even if they knew it was a Squib, they couldn't just... get rid of it."
Harry pursed his lips."Being born into a family that didn't want them from the start... who knows if that's good or bad."
"Tell me about it,"Ron agreed."Actually, ever since we found out Hermione was pregnant, I've been thinking... what if our child is a Squib?"
Harry's lips parted, ready to offer comfort, but Ron waved him off."It's fine, Harry, I know. It's a possibility. I wouldn't love my child any less for being a Squib. But our world... it's particularly hard for them."
The conversation was growing heavy. Harry tried to lighten the mood with a joke."Well, it's not just your child, Ron. He, or she, has the brightest witch of her age for a mother. Have a little faith in Hermione, alright?"
"A witch?"Harry unconsciously repeated the word, finally realizing the source of his unease during this conversation."But Hermione is a witch, so she definitely wouldn't..."He couldn't bring himself to say"miscarry,"and just made a vague gesture."So why couldn't she tell us?"
Ron offered a pained smile that was closer to a grimace."The pregnancy's been really hard on her, mate. It's not just what I told you. Hermione's constantly nauseous, vomiting. The worst is the fever. She's lost seven pounds in just two and a half months. We've been to St. Mungo's more in this short time than in the past few years combined."
Harry's heart ached hearing this. He didn't want Ron to sink deeper into this topic, but Ron's floodgates had opened, and nearly three months of pent-up worry came pouring out.
"You know Hermione. She always has to find the answers herself. Normally, she'd never pay any mind to a silly Muggle superstition like that. But this... it's really taken a toll on her. I didn't want to bother her with debates about Muggles and witches. Did I even mention her eyesight is getting worse? She's even cut down on reading. Books are her life, and to have that suddenly taken away... she must be feeling utterly lost."
The more Harry listened, the worse he felt. He reached out and gave Ron's shoulder a firm squeeze, forcing a note of cheer into his voice."Well, it's a good thing she has a pregnancy expert like you by her side."
Ron managed a small smile, gratefully accepting the out Harry offered."I can't be pregnant for her. Just have to be there. I did grow up in a family with seven kids, Harry. I don't remember Ginny's birth, but according to George, that was Mum's toughest pregnancy:slept fourteen hours a day; ate three meals of chocolate spread with fish and chips..."
Harry imagined the combination and made a disgusted face.
Ron continued listing,"Toothaches, cramps, swelling, insomnia... and her magic was all over the place, which made her moods terrible. She argued with Percy constantly because he complained she couldn't provide proper meals..."
"Wait!"Harry seized on a key phrase, cutting Ron off urgently."What do you mean, your mum couldn't use her wand?"
Ron was annoyed at the interruption, but he still dutifully explained."Honestly, Harry, have you been listening at all?"
Ron's steady, warm baritone seemed to press in on Harry from all sides, as if amplified by a Sonorus Charm. For a dizzying moment, Harry felt he could hardly breathe."Witches or wizards, it's the same. After getting pregnant, their magic goes into protecting the baby. Trying to cast spells then... they either fizzle out, or a simple Lumos could blind someone. Of course the wand gets put away."
04
Harry had been staring at the"Mission Summary"section of his Auror field report for nearly four hours. The quill, saturated with ink, waited in vain for its master to write a single word, eventually dripping like a fine rain and spattering both the parchment and Harry's fingers with tiny ink spots.
"Scourgify."
Harry had lost count of how many Scourgify charms he'd cast that morning. Work was piling up, the report was due to Roberts by Wednesday EOD, yet Harry felt no urge to even pick up his quill. Ever since Ron told him that pregnant wizards stop using their wands, he couldn't drag his thoughts away from the idea. Is Draco pregnant? The notion completely consumed him.
Pure-blood wizards were introduced to magic early. If not for the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, Lucius and Narcissa would probably have placed a wand among the options at Draco's first birthday party. The wand is the wizard's life. While that might be an exaggeration, magic was the key to integrating into wizarding society, and a wand was essential to wield it. Harry knew Draco's hawthorn wand had been with him since he was eleven. Barring the time Harry had disarmed him and the period awaiting trial, it never left his person. In their household, only one person was prone to carelessly tossing things around, and that person was Harry. Draco took meticulous care of his wand—cleaning, maintenance, never neglected. He had two entire drawers dedicated just to wand holsters. Though, admittedly, most were there because Harry had forbidden him from using an official Auror holster, leading Draco to order a slew of them in a fit of pique. They'd sat there, unopened, for a year or two now.
The morning's scene replayed in Harry's mind on a loop. He revisited every word Draco had said, every subtle shift in his expression. The downside of being married to a master of Occlumency reared its head again:prying anything out of him—be it truth or a kind word—was harder than defeating Voldemort. Not that Harry didn't enjoy their little games; most of the time, they were quite entertaining. Draco was tight-lipped, but Harry usually won, often followed by exceptionally rewarding sex. The truth was, Harry found Draco remarkably easy to read once you understood his temperament—as transparent as a jellyfish. Yet, none of this solved Harry's current dilemma.
If Draco was indeed pregnant, why was he hiding it?
First, they weren't unmarried.
Second, it wasn't an affair.
Third, Harry was certain Draco knew Harry would respect any decision he made regarding this.
If Draco wanted to keep it—let's say'him'for now—they would shop for baby supplies and prepare a nursery together, welcoming the new life. If he didn't want to keep it, that was also understandable. They were still young, and a child who only cried, fed, and excreted would inevitably disrupt their current life rhythm. Harry understood. Even if he felt a sense of loss, he understood. Besides, they had discussed this before marrying, and the solicitor had written it into the prenuptial agreement, somewhere around Chapter Twelve, or maybe Chapter Seventeen—the section was all about heirs and related matters.
If it wasn't pregnancy, what else would force Draco to ask someone else to cast even a simple Tempo charm? He was inherently proud, especially around Harry, always striving to maintain his composure and elegance. Furthermore, Draco hadn't shown any other symptoms of pregnancy. Thinking of the long list of pregnancy reactions Ron described for Hermione and Molly, Harry's head throbbed harder. Could Draco really be silently enduring all that? Part of Harry reasoned that Draco was never one for tolerating discomfort; if he were suffering because of Harry and his sperm, he'd likely use a Sonorus Charm to announce it to the whole world. Yet, another part of him grew increasingly agitated by the possibility. The script of someone suffering unseen on his behalf was one Harry had lived through too many times. Which brought him back to the initial question—was Draco pregnant or not?
The quill was nearly plucked bare, standing stark and uncomfortable in his grip. Waiting idly wasn't his style. Rather than sitting around guessing what Draco was thinking, it was better to take the initiative and find an answer. Steeling himself, the moment the noon bell chimed, Harry snatched his jacket from the back of the chair and sprinted towards the Ministry elevators.
Ron's voice trailed behind him, distant."Harry! Harry, where are you going? Aren't you having lunch?"
"No! I'm going home to see Draco,"Harry shouted back without turning.
"Off to see the ferret again. Must be nice having a wife who doesn't need to work,"Ron muttered, a tinge of envy colouring his voice that Harry could just go home and see Draco whenever he wanted. Unlike him and Hermione—one an Auror, the other the Senior Assistant to the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot—both impossibly busy, having to schedule a simple dinner date weeks in advance. Thinking of Hermione reminded Ron that he was about to become a father. He needed to set a good example for his child:work hard, earn a proper living, build a good life. He needed to be better, for the baby, and for Hermione.
Ron stretched his back, sore from sitting too long, and stood up, heading for the Ministry cafeteria.
05
Harry strode out of the fireplace, scanning the house for any sign of Draco. Living room, empty. Basement lab, empty. Study, empty. The kitchen was a non-option; Draco never set foot in it. The dining area hadn't been cleared yet. A porcelain plate held the remains of butter-roasted chicken with young spinach, alongside a side of tomato cold soup and salted rye bread. Harry tore off a piece of the chicken wing and swallowed it whole. The chicken had cooled, the skin no longer crisp, but the meat was still tender and juicy, infused with the savoury richness of butter. It was a far cry from the morning's pickled cucumber. Defiantly, he took a sip from Draco's teacup. The tea was still warm, a strong citrus note hitting his taste buds, the familiar, comforting aroma filling his nostrils. Earl Grey was too sweet for him, but it was undoubtedly Draco's usual staple. Didn't Ron say pregnancy changed tastes? Why was Draco's food exactly the same as before? Had he overthought it? Was Draco simply misplacing his wand this morning?
"Well, well. I leave for a moment and catch a little rat pilfering my lunch. I reserve the right to call the Aurors. Imagine the scandal,"Draco's teasing voice came from behind Harry.
Harry swivelled on his heel, chair and all, to face him."I can't speak for my colleagues, but suspect Draco Malfoy, Auror Potter has a case requiring your cooperation. You may refuse, of course. Then I'd be forced to employ certain methods... strictly forbidden by the Auror Code of Conduct."
Draco was dressed in a set of black-pearl coloured loungewear, holding a few budding white daffodils in his arms. The sliver of his exposed neck and wrists were as pale as the daffodil petals. It seemed he had been in the greenhouse; no wonder Harry couldn't find him.
Draco tilted his head, scratching his hair with a finger in feigned distress."It seems I've stumbled into something serious. You must be mistaken, Auror Potter. I'm just an excessively handsome wizard citizen, spending my days tending flowers and walking the dog. I'm never the one putting myself in danger. Perhaps you should arrest someone who looks exactly like you... let me think, goes by the name Harry Potter or something."
"As a matter of fact, it was this Mr. Potter who reported that his husband has been acting strangely lately, even putting away his wand, resorting to harvesting daffodils by hand."Harry's gaze swept from Draco's empty sleeves back to his eyes."That's quite unusual for a pure-blood wizard, don't you think? Draco."
"I believe addressing a gentleman by his surname, not his first name, is basic Auror etiquette,"Draco deflected, avoiding the question.
"Draco,"Harry repeated his name, all traces of playfulness gone, his expression serious and intent."You didn't answer my question."
Draco crossed his arms, apparently accepting that Harry wouldn't be so easily sidetracked this time. He countered with a question,"What exactly do you think you know?"
"Ron told me..."Harry began, ready to explain about the mixed-up sandwich and how it accidentally led him to discover Hermione's pregnancy. But Draco, who had been perfectly composed until now, bristled at the very opening.
He tightened his arms around himself, face flushing with anger as if ready for a fight."So Weasley told you? Wonderful. I told Granger, she promised not to let a third soul know, and she immediately shares it with her husband, the traitor. She won't get a single Knut from me for her election campaign. And Weasley... he'd better pray he hasn't broadcast it to the entire Auror office with his big mouth. He'll pay for—"
"Wait, Draco, just wait!"Harry didn't understand why Draco was suddenly so angry, but he couldn't let his best friend be wrongly accused. He urgently cut him off."Can you just give me one damn minute to finish?"
Draco lifted his chin, his entire face screaming,"Explain yourself."
Harry then laid out the entire morning's events step by step. The more Draco listened, his defiant posture faltering, the more uncomfortable he became. By the time Harry finished, not a trace of his earlier aggressiveness remained.
"Well then?"Harry pressed his advantage."Is Hermione still a traitor?"
Draco pressed his lips together and remained silent.
"Did Ron broadcast your secret to the entire Auror office?"Harry continued.
"...No,"Draco's voice was barely a whisper, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as if he were considering Apparating on the spot.
Harry stepped closer. His tone shifted, becoming soft yet carrying an undeniable force as he asked his true purpose for coming here.
"Are you pregnant?"
"I..."Draco started, then stopped, realizing he'd been led into a trap. The flicker of guilt instantly flared into flustered irritation."Harry!"
Harry took the daffodils and placed them on the table, then took Draco's hands, looking directly into his eyes as he asked again."That's still not an answer. Tell me, Draco. Are you pregnant?"
Draco let out a soft sigh. His thumb stroked the"I must not tell lies"scar on the back of Harry's hand, a hint of resignation in his gesture."Haven't you already figured it out?"
Hearing this reply, which was as close to a"yes"as he could get, Harry instantly became so overwhelmed he didn't know what to do with his hands and feet. His mouth fell open as if he could swallow an egg whole, and he looked at Draco as if he were some kind of miracle of creation.
"We... we're going to have a baby?"
"No, we're just getting a Pygmy Puff,"Draco retorted with habitual sarcasm, though his grey eyes shone with a bright, soft light that completely contradicted his tone. Then a small smile broke through, showing a glimpse of teeth."Yes, Harry. Who would believe it? The poor orphan Potter finally gets his family at twenty-three, even if it's a Malfoy heir."
"You are my family,"Harry shot back, still dazed but instinctively objecting."And you're a Malfoy heir too."
"Indeed. My vast Gringotts vault is changing hands in eight months. Just dreadful,"Draco said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a joking manner.
"Does that mean..."Harry caught the implication, seeking confirmation,"...you're keeping it?"
Draco frowned, eyeing Harry with a new, wary look, as if his husband of three years had suddenly transformed into an uneducated Acromantula. He spoke carefully,"Malfoys do not abandon their children, Harry. If I've given you that impression, I apologize. But if you don't want it..."
"Of course not!"Harry rushed to defend himself."I've always wanted a family, especially with you! Why else would I have agreed to sign that ridiculously long prenuptial agreement with Lucius? It even had a whole chapter detailing our sex life!"
"Then why did you ask if..."Draco's voice softened."Of course I'm keeping it, Harry. He's my first baby. And he'll be the only one."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"Harry asked bluntly."Shouldn't something like this be shared with your family first? Your husband, for instance?"
Harry saw Draco's eyes dart around, a sure sign he was planning an evasion, and quickly added,"Don't lie to me. You can't lie to me three times in one day."
"But... it's bad luck to tell people too soon,"Draco said in a rushed murmur.
"What?"Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. Was his knowledge of pregnancy really that lacking? Why did every pregnancy-related topic today seem to go over his head?
"Granger said..."
"So Granger knew before I did?"A predatory intensity sharpened Harry's green eyes as they fixed on Draco.
As if that scares me, Draco thought irritably. Despite his annoyance, he explained,"Theoretically, yes. I suspected I might be pregnant, so I made an appointment with a Healer at St. Mungo's..."
"You've already seen a Healer?"Harry cut in again.
That truly sparked Draco's temper."Are you going to listen or not? If you are, close your mouth like a proper Unspeakable. If not, finish your food and get out."
Harry didn't leave. Instead, he gently guided Draco back against the wall, burying his face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him like a puppy seeking comfort."I'm sorry."
"For what?"Draco's tone was still cold, but the tension in his shoulders had visibly eased.
"For making you angry."
"And?"
"For interrupting you."Having been with Draco for so long, Harry knew the key was to smooth his feathers first before addressing his own grievances. He needed to calm him down."But you didn't even take me to your first Healer's appointment. We agreed we'd do that together."
Draco's anger flared up quickly but faded just as fast. It wasn't a big deal, and Harry was acting as if he'd been terribly wronged, so he couldn't be bothered to press the issue."I wasn't completely sure at first. I just kept feeling unusually tired. I thought I might have accidentally ingested a Calming Draught or it was some lingering side effect of a Dark spell. I took Invigoration Draughts for two or three days, but it didn't help. That's when I knew something was wrong. The Healer in the Creature-Induced Injuries department ruled out poisoning and referred me to the Spell Damage ward. That's where I was diagnosed... and where I ran into Granger, who was there for a follow-up."
Harry, not daring to make the same mistake twice, listened quietly.
"She was the one who told me you're not supposed to tell anyone in the first three months. Said it could lead to... disappointment."
Learning from last time, Harry raised his hand before speaking.
Draco nodded approvingly."Go on, Mr. Potter. What is your question?"
Only after receiving Draco's permission did Harry voice his confusion."But isn't that a Muggle superstition? You're a wizard."
Draco looked startled, his brow furrowing in confusion."Granger is a witch."
"She's Muggle-born, you know that better than anyone,"Harry continued."And besides, Hermione definitely didn't tell you to keep the news from your husband, did she? Because Ron knows she's pregnant."
"So it's a rumor made up by Muggles?"Draco's nose scrunched up, his mouth twisting into a'U'shape. It was less anger and more sheer disbelief. Why would Muggles invent something so pointless?
"Well... not exactly. Ron told me wizard babies have the mother's magic to protect them. Muggles don't have magic, so they're more vulnerable, I suppose."
"Weasley again,"Draco couldn't help but mutter. Ron's appearance rate in today's Potter household discussion was far too high."They multiply like gnomes, no wonder they're so knowledgeable about pregnancy."
Harry couldn't exactly disagree with the"multiplying like gnomes"comment, but Molly had always treated him like her own child. He felt compelled to defend her."Molly taught Ron all that. Didn't Narcissa teach you?"
Draco was instantly silenced, his hesitant look telling Harry everything.
Harry probed gently, like a dragonfly skimming the water's surface."What? Does Narcissa not know yet?"
Draco took the bait."Honestly, Harry. If I didn't tell you, why would I tell my mother?"
"You never discussed anything like this before?"
Draco, intellectually unwilling to be fully honest but emotionally reluctant to lie to Harry outright, gave a brief reply."We did."
"You seem to have left half of that sentence unsaid."
"But Mother assumed you would be the one to get pregnant."Draco, afraid he'd change his mind, blurted the rest out in one go.
"Ah... I see,"Harry made a sound of sudden understanding."Malfoy dignity and all that nonsense, right?"
"This is the last time you insult a Malfoy, Harry,"Draco attempted to retort.
The whites of Harry's rolling eyes provided the answer."If your husband is a Malfoy, I can assure you it won't be the last—because his methods of being infuriating are innumerable."
"You'd better have proof, Harry. Otherwise, whether you're the Saviour or not, the Malfoy family lawyers will still sue you for slander. Let me warn you, the outcome would be your complete financial ruin."
"Proof? Is the testimony of Harry Potter not enough? For instance, right now."Harry pressed his body closer against Draco's, letting him feel the evidence beneath his robes.
Harry's voice dropped to a low murmur."My husband is pregnant. I want to treat him like a prince, cherish him. And I also want to spank him soundly for daring to keep something this important from me."
"Don't be so dramatic, Harry,"Draco said, even as his body leaned into the contact."At most, I only planned not to tell you for the first three months. After your performance this morning, I didn't dare consider waiting a day longer. It's a miracle you lasted until lunch."
Draco's hand slid down, stroking the prominent bulge through Harry's trousers."And I thought you said you were annoyed, not aroused."
Harry kissed the corner of his mouth."Annoyance with you has always been convertible into arousal, darling. I've known that since third year in Hogsmeade."
"Third year?"Draco stopped the movement of his hand, though its warmth remained pressed against Harry's trousers. Harry hadn't really planned for anything to happen right now anyway; if he ignored the physical reaction, it would likely subside on its own.
"That time you sneaked out under the Invisibility Cloak?"Draco asked.
Harry recalled their third year."I sneaked out twice that year without my guardian's permission. Once because I thought Sirius Black had killed my parents, and the other time... I had to return to school early because you spotted me."
"I remember someone hitting me in the head with a snowball,"Draco mused, stroking his chin as a memory surfaced."Snow? That was in the snow, wasn't it?"
Harry nodded solemnly."Right. So, a small part of me was worried whether it was normal to have a... physical reaction to my mortal enemy. A larger part, a much larger part, was worried the cold weather would freeze my bollocks off."
"Good thing it didn't,"Draco said with feigned gravity.
"Good thing it didn't,"Harry echoed, smiling.
They shared another kiss in the warm atmosphere.
In Draco's mouth, Harry tasted a hint of rich sweetness, which stirred the memory of that bite of pickled cucumber.
He checked with Draco,"Did the Healer say why you aren't having other pregnancy symptoms? Are you alright, love? Are you both healthy?"
Draco shook his head."I spoke less with the Healer than I did with Granger. Perhaps next time."
"Then you have to take me with you next time."
"Relax, Harry. You know now. From this moment on, for every check-up, every decision, you will be there. Even if you try to weasel out, I won't allow it,"Draco stated matter-of-factly.
Only then did Harry feel reassured. His gaze drifted over Draco, inevitably settling on his abdomen.
"Can I... touch him?"Harry asked uncertainly.
"He's only a month along, Harry. Right now, you'd probably just be feeling my lunch, which I believe you're already quite familiar with, considering you helped yourself to some of it."Draco explained patiently.
Harry pouted, stubbornly shaking Draco's arm. Draco, both annoyed and softened by his persistence, took Harry's right hand and placed it on his own lower abdomen.
"Don't say I didn't warn you. He's only the size of an apple seed right now. You won't feel anything."
Harry felt like his right hand no longer belonged to him; he couldn't press too hard or too lightly. His fingers gently traced the lines of Draco's abdomen, his voice filled with wonder as if he'd discovered a new continent."It feels a little rounder?"
Draco rolled his eyes."That's the Earl Grey tea I drank."
"Draco."
"Hmm?"
"Shut up."
"Fine, fine. During poor Potter's tender moment with his apple seed, I'll do my duty and play the part of a flowerpot."
"You're no flowerpot. What flowerpot is this vain? You'd spit out all the soil and pretend to be an antique teacup from the Age of Exploration."
"Is that so? What a pity,"Draco said, a sly smile gracing his lips."Because you're already married to me."
Harry admired that smile. He loved that smile. It, and what it represented, suddenly made his nose sting with emotion.
"Draco."
"Please refrain from using my name as punctuation, Harry. Or even you, the Saviour, might tempt me to hex you."
Harry said what he most wanted to say to Draco in that moment.
"Thank you."
Draco paused, his expression softening in an instant.
"You're welcome."
END.