Conception of Dreams (Chapter Six)
Chapter Six
The carriage ride was filled with silence. As soon as they arrived at Hogsmeade, Malfoy lead Harry through the small town. He saw familiar shops and restaurants and he wondered if Malfoy was going to take him to one of those, but he didn’t stop.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked as they missed yet another familiar restaurant.
“We’re not that far away from it now,” Malfoy said. He didn’t really answer Harry’s question. When he saw the look Harry was giving him, he continued, “It’s a restaurant that my parents used to take me to. One of the finest in Wizard Britain. It’s old style, so have manners, yeah Potter?”
“Old style?” Harry frowned. He had a feeling that he knew what that meant, “Does that mean they don’t allow Muggleborns in or something?”
Malfoy didn’t bother to look at him as he replied, “Yes, that’s right. But they are slowly warming to the idea of Halfbloods.”
“Malfoy!” Harry tugged at Malfoy’s arm, causing him to stop walking abruptly. Malfoy looked at him in surprise and raised an eyebrow. Harry continued, “I don’t want to go there.”
“Potter, it has the finest food a wizard or witch could ask for,” Malfoy argued, tugging at his arm. Harry didn’t let go.
“Please, Malfoy,” Harry swallowed, “Anywhere but there.”
“Why, Potter? I told you that they accept Halfbloods.” Malfoy looked at him in exasperation.
“I want to enjoy myself with you tonight and I won’t like it there,” Harry said truthfully. His voice was low as wizards walked past them. Some glanced at them, but many of them seemed uncaring about the two teenage males standing in the side of the path.
Malfoy looked at Harry in astonishment. “What?”
“Please? Anywhere but there.”
Malfoy sighed and reluctantly nodded. “Where would you like to go, Potter?”
“The Three Broomsticks,” Harry answered immediately.
The other man looked disgusted at the mention of The Three Broomsticks. He recoiled back and his face scrunched with disgust. “Please tell me you are joking with me, Potter. The Three Broomsticks? I hardly call that a restaurant.”
Harry licked his lips and quickly thought of a way to convince him. Finally coming up with an idea, he smiled at Malfoy. He grabbed his hand and guided it to his belly. Harry pouted at Malfoy and pointedly glanced down at the hand on his belly before staring at the Slytherin once more. “But your babies want to eat there.”
Malfoy grunted, “Is this your way of convincing me?” He didn’t remove his hand though. It was quite the contrary. He moved closer and pressed his hand as close as he could to the clothed stomach.
“Yes,” Harry said quietly. He almost preened at the feel of Malfoy’s body. They were standing so close, that Harry wondered if the people around them thought they were about to kiss. Not that Harry was immune to the idea. He actually thought it was a brilliant thought. Pressing in closer, he raised his hand to grab the back of Malfoy’s head. He pulled him closer and lifted up his face so he could press his cold lips against the ones hovering above his own.
Malfoy was surprised by the kiss, but returned the kiss none the less. His arms wrapped around Harry’s waist, pulling the smaller man flushed against his own body. Harry’s hands entangled in Malfoy’s hair, mussing up the neat style it was set in. Malfoy didn’t seem to care, because he only kissed Harry harder.
Harry moaned into his mouth, before the need for air was so great, he had to break it. He panted. “Merlin, Malfoy.”
“I get that a lot,” Malfoy said in a cocky tone.
Harry’s hands were still entangled in Malfoy’s hair and when he let go of the blond locks, he grimaced at the sight of the very messy hair. Malfoy must have seen the look because he reached up and felt his hair.
He growled, “Bloody hell, Potter.”
“Sorry?” Harry said unapologetically. He laughed loudly and took a step back from the other man.
Malfoy just snorted. Harry distinctively heard him mutter, “Bloody Potter, messing up my hair,” before he pulled out his wand from his robes. He pointed the tip of it at his head and murmured a spell. His hair instantly righted itself into its former position.
“We are agreed then? The Three Broomsticks?” Harry asked hopefully. He bounced on the tip of his toes, grinning like an idiot.
Malfoy stared incredulously, before he sighed and said, “If we must.”
“Brilliant,” Harry clapped his hands together. He didn’t think twice as he slipped his gloved hand in Malfoy’s and pulled him along the dusty road. Malfoy didn’t protest, he just let Harry drag him through the small crowd until they reached the Three Broomsticks. The cosy little inn was packed with people as usual, but unlike the trips to Hogsmeade for Hogwarts, it wasn’t full of students. The adults seemed to keep to themselves, not even paying attention as Harry and Malfoy entered the warm cottage-like inn. Harry smiled in delight at his favourite place to drink and eat and walked over to a spare table, dragging Malfoy along as he went.
He sat down on one of the chairs and shivered.
“Are you cold? I can give you my robe if you want?” Malfoy offered. When Harry looked at him in disbelief, he sneered, “don’t want you getting sick. You are the only one who can have my children now, after all?”
“Mhm. Sure, Malfoy,” Harry laughed. He had grown to know Malfoy more in the last six days and slowly, the man was softening up to Harry, no matter how much he wanted to fight it. Harry couldn’t really talk either; he had been softening up just as much to the giant git.
A waitress pranced over to their table. She smiled at Harry, before giving Malfoy a different sort of a smile: a seductive one. She even had the nerve to wink. “Can I get you anything, lovelies?”
Harry snorted. Whore. “Yeah, get me a soda with ice,” he snapped.
Malfoy took note of the anger laced in Harry’s voice. He smirked at him, before glancing up at the waitress. Harry hated to admit it, but the waitress had nice tits on her. They were big and round and dare he say it, looked firm. If he had been straight, he would have flirted with her, that’s for sure. Although right now, with her casting Malfoy a lowered eyelash stare, Harry wanted nothing more than to hex her into oblivion.
“And you, my pretty little waitress,” Malfoy began, earning himself a giggle from the blond bimbo, “can get me mulled mead. And while you are at it, make sure my lover here gets lots of ice. I love it when his mouth is freezing when it’s sucking on my cock.”
The waitress let out a meep of surprise. Her eyes flashed to Harry and back to Malfoy before she nodded hastily and skittered off. Harry barked with laughter, not quite believing what Malfoy had just said to her. He held his stomach, which ached as he only laughed louder. Malfoy snickered.
“Do you always do that?” Harry asked, when he could breathe enough to talk.
“No.” Malfoy started to reach for Harry’s hand that rested on the table, before he stopped as though he became aware of what he was doing. Before he could pull his hand away, Harry’s shot out and grabbed it. He pressed his hand into Malfoy’s and entwined their fingers. Harry didn’t know what possessed him, but he wanted to feel Malfoy’s hand in his own.
Malfoy stared down at their linked hands. He opened his mouth, but only snapped it closed instantly.
“Thank you, git,” Harry said with a smile.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, “for what?”
“Actually taking me out,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. He stared at the waitress as she started to walk back over to them. She was hovering two drinks in front of her. When she reached them, she set both drinks down. She didn’t stay around for long this time.
“You’re welcome, Potter,” Malfoy replied easily. He picked up his glass of mead and drank some of it.
Harry chuckled lightly and looked at his soda. It had a lot more ice in there then a usual soda would, but he didn’t mind. He liked the ice. He grabbed his own glass and took a deep gulp of it. The coldness of the drink sent shivers down his spine.
“I don’t know why you wanted ice in your drink.” Malfoy shook his head in exasperation. His thumb - of the hand that was still entwined with Harry’s - caressed Harry’s palm. He didn’t seem to notice that he was doing it as he spoke, “you’ll get a chill and then where would we be, you knucklehead?”
Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment on it. He just took another large sip of his drink.
“Potter, mother is having a Valentines ball net year,” Malfoy continued to talk, “she has one every year, really, and she starts quite early. Next year, it’s a masquerade ball and I’ve been asked to tell you that you have been cordially invited.”
Harry nearly choked on his drink. He set the glass down and frowned at Malfoy. He liked Mrs. Malfoy, but a ball was something that he wasn’t exactly thrilled about attending. Just thinking about the Yule Ball in their fourth year made him shudder. He could remember seeing Malfoy there; dancing as though he was a professional. Harry, on the other hand, was terrible at dancing. He tripped over his own feet which only resulted in embarrassment on his behalf.
“Malfoy, thank your mother for her offer, however -”
“Potter, I wouldn’t say no if I was you. My mother doesn’t take no for an answer,” Malfoy interrupted with a smirk. “You’ll do fine.”
“Have you seen my dancing?” Harry exclaimed, feeling his cheeks flush.
Malfoy’s thumb caressed his palm again, this time in a reassuring manner. “Come on, Potter, you can’t be that bad. Sure, you have two left feet,” Harry glared at him, “but nothing that can hurt when I’m leading you.” Malfoy waved his hand dismissingly, “it’s not like anyone else will be dancing with you.”
“But how would you know it was me if it’s a masquerade ball, Malfoy?” Harry questioned, crossing his arms.
“Potter, I always know you when I see you,” Malfoy answered easily. At Harry’s raised eyebrow, he realized what he said and stuttered uncharacteristically, “I mean, I just meant...” He looked stricken.
Harry laughed and decided to save Malfoy from his stuttering attack. “So that tells me you not only know me that well that you’d know it was me in a mask, but when Scabior and Greyback took us to the manor, you knew it was me,” his voice softened at the last part, “you didn’t give me up. Why? It could have saved your family a lot of trouble.”
“Yes,” Malfoy said quietly, “but why would I give up our last hope of salvation? Or freedom?” At Harry’s piercing stare, he continued, “and I could never have given you up. Not to him.”
“To anyone?” The question slipped out of his mouth easily.
“No. To no one.” Malfoy met Harry’s stare. Through his eyes, Harry could tell a lot about Malfoy. The pain he had felt and the desperation for an ending to the struggle, and a love. It wasn’t just a love for his family, but a love for Harry.
Harry was the first to break the trance. He grabbed his glass and shakily raised it to his lips, swallowing the soda. It felt cold as it slid down his throat. He set it back down and nodded. “Okay, I’ll go.”
Malfoy seemed satisfied. He nodded his thanks.
“So tell me more about Incubi,” Harry thought it was the perfect topic to talk about, “When you get angry, do you like, change form or something?”
Malfoy snorted back a laugh. “You mean like an angry bird?” At Harry’s tentative nod, he continued, “I’m not a full blooded Veela, Potter. No, I don’t change at all. The Incubus blood makes me protective of you and jealous of others who touch you, but it doesn’t affect my appearance in any way. I have an increase in physical strength and the whole bonding thing, but that’s about it.”
“But your eyes,” Harry pointed at his grey eyes, “when you get angry, they darken.”
“Really?” Malfoy was surprised by this. “I didn’t know. Maybe it’s just a hereditary thing?”
Harry shook his head. “Your eyes have darkened like that before. They go really dark, almost turns black. Bloody scary if you ask me.”
“Hm,” Malfoy rested his elbow on the table and his chin on his palm. He looked thoughtful as he contemplated Harry. “Maybe. I’ll have to look into that.”
Harry nodded. He thought back to the anger he saw in Malfoy’s eyes when he looked at Theo and a question nagged at him. “Malfoy, did you really shag Zabini?”
Malfoy snorted and released his chin to wave his hand impatiently, “doesn’t really matter, does it? Don’t let it worry you.”
“I’m just curious. You know about Justin.”
Malfoy growled at the name. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I shagged him. Only once or twice. He wasn’t that great in the sack. He screamed like a banshee.”
Harry laughed. “Really?” Images popped up into his head and he couldn’t help but slap a hand over his face at the thought of Zabini, on his back, screaming just as Malfoy had described. “That’s terrible.”
Malfoy laughed with him.
The waitress pranced back over to them, a smile on her face this time. She had a notepad and a Quick Quotes Quill that stood to attention beside it. “So, can I get you boys anything to eat?”
Harry stared at her, watching as her eyes darted to Draco every so often. She tried to act as though she wasn’t, but Harry saw the subtle glances.
“We’ll have sausages. Very big sausages. We like big sausages,” Harry said firmly, making sure she was looking at him as he glanced at Malfoy.
Malfoy choked on his drink, which he was sipping. He thumped his chest as a coughing fit started. The coughing fit turned into laughed. “Oh Merlin!”
The waitress blushed an ugly red. She stuttered, muttering about sausages and mash and Harry agreed with a smirk. Malfoy ordered the same, still laughing loudly as she once again scampered off.
“And you think I’m bad,” Malfoy’s whole body shook. “Poor girl will have nightmares.”
“She deserves it,” Harry muttered, before recognising the jealousy that burned in his stomach. He sighed. He wasn’t meant to feel this way about Malfoy and yet he could not deny that it was there, tormenting him.
“Jealous, Potter?” Malfoy teased. His grey eyes were almost twinkling in mirth.
“Piss off, Malfoy,” Harry murmured, but he didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.
“Right, any more questions about Incubi then?” Malfoy grabbed his half-filled glass and took another very big swig from it. It made Harry lick his lips. Merlin, what he would do for mead or even a firewhiskey right now; however, he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t going to risk his children.
“Mating seasons or any of that codswallop?” Harry shrugged his shoulders.
Malfoy snorted. “Like I said before, Potter, we aren’t animals. No, there is no mating season.”
“You have a mating call,” Harry pointed out. He glanced around the room.
“It’s not really a mating call. I mean, yeah, it’s a call. I...” Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose, “fine, it’s a mating call. But it’s different. You know how in legends, the Incubi visit Muggles in their dreams and shag and impregnate the Muggle?”
Harry nodded attentively. He didn’t like mythology that much, but he knew the basics of the Incubi legend.
“It’s sort of like that. When my Incubi blood recognized you as my mate, there was an immediate connection. If you weren’t attracted to me at all, the connection wouldn’t have worked. But you were interested in me in some way, Potter, and my body and instincts reacted to that. I called out to you, which put you in a dreamlike state. This is probably where all this Muggle dream nonsense came from. A mate doesn’t know what he’s doing during that time and he can’t control his actions, which is the same for the Incubus. Some mates remember that night like it was a dream the next day, some don’t. You, of course, are in the latter. So basically, during this dream like state, the Incubus and his mate shag and if the Incubus correctly does what his instincts tell him to, his mate usually ends up impregnated.”
“But why knock up his mate?” Harry leaned forward on the table. He glanced down at their entwined hands. Neither of them seemed to want to move them any time soon.
“To claim him. To let everyone know that the Incubus has staked his claim with his sperm,” Malfoy smirked at this.
“Oh,” Harry snorted. “That is such a typical Malfoy thing to do. So why are you even surprised your Incubus blood was dominant?”
Malfoy chuckled. “Potter, listen, it’s rare to happen, but it’s a privilege if it does happen in your family. Incubi are considered powerful humans. Both you and I are bloody fortunate.”
Harry nodded. He wasn’t quite sure he’d get used to it, but he knew that either way, he had to live with it. It seemed like another Pureblood thing to him, he just didn’t understand why he hadn’t heard about it before.
Harry didn’t even notice that the waitress was back, but when she set the plates on the table with a loud thump, he huffed at the rude interruption. He stared up at her and while she was still flushed, she seemed angrier than before. It made him feel guilty for making her that way, but he told himself he didn’t have a reason to feel bad. She did flirt with Malfoy in front of him, which was unprofessional.
“Anything else?” She practically spat on Harry as she spoke.
Malfoy growled. “Yeah, you can piss off.”
The waitress turned her glare on to him and muttered “git” before she stormed over to another table. Harry picked up his napkin and wiped his face, grimacing. “Some people shouldn’t be in the service industry.”
Malfoy grunted in agreement. “You okay?”
“Her spit wasn’t made of poison, Malfoy,” Harry laughed as he set down the napkin and picked up his knife and fork. He was hungry again because as soon as that first bit of food was swallowed, he took forkfuls at a time, enjoying the taste more and more with each bite.
“Hungry, Potter?” Malfoy snickered, but Harry ignored him. He was too interested in his food to care to retort to his words. Before Harry knew it, his plate was empty and his stomach still ached for more. He glanced up at Malfoy’s full plate before quickly looking away. At the sound of the scraping of the table, Harry tilted his head to see Malfoy pushing his plate towards Harry. “Eat.”
Harry gave Malfoy a big grin in thanks before he started eating his food as well. Before he knew it, it was clean as well. “Sorry, Malfoy,” Harry muttered in embarrassment as he stacked the plates and set them to the side of the table.
“You’re progressing quite quickly with the symptoms of your pregnancy,” Malfoy commented. It was a statement and clearly he was curious about it.
“Yeah,” Harry felt his cheeks flush.
“I suppose we’ll start seeing weight gain as well. You are carrying twins, after all,” Malfoy commented further. He was stroking his chin in thought.
Harry’s blush deepened and he nodded. If he kept eating this way, he would soon see an increase in his weight. “When do you think I’ll show?” He asked tentatively, unsure if Malfoy would ridicule him for the question or not.
Malfoy shrugged, “I’m not quite sure. I’ve been reading…” he stopped, as though he just realized what he said, but Harry smiled and nodded encouragingly. It was good that he was reading up about it. Harry hadn’t been and he knew that he really should’ve started by now. “I’ve been reading and it’s different for everyone. Depends on how big the baby gets and how quick. But you’re pregnant with twins, Potter, so you will gain weight quicker than other people.”
“Oh.” Harry stared down at his hidden stomach and rested a hand on it. Even with the picture that Hermione seemed to have stolen to squeal over, it was still hard to believe that twins were growing inside of him. Malfoy’s twins.
“We should go see Madame Pomfrey again, just to understand a few things. We obviously don’t know enough,” Malfoy nodded himself in agreement of his own words, “Yes, that’s a good idea. I will go make an appointment for us with her.”
Harry found himself nodding; there was really no point in arguing with him. Malfoy had his mind set and Harry really did agree with him that the appointment was needed.
“Shall we go?” Harry asked, feeling the prickling gaze of the waitress on the back of his neck.
Malfoy nodded and pulled out some sickles and galleons and left them on the table. They both stood and walked out of the inn. The bustle of Hogsmeade was slowly dying and the walk back to the carriage was quiet. Harry and Malfoy didn’t say much to each other, but Harry caught Malfoy staring at him more than once.
When they finally reached Hogwarts, Malfoy walked him to the Great Hall doors. He smirked at Harry. “Well, tonight wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No,” Harry admitted as he spun on his heel to look at Malfoy. “I had a good time, Malfoy.”
“You don’t even have to get me off. I was thinking we could meet up on tomorrow night, Potter? Maybe you could get me off then?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
Harry was tempted to ask Malfoy if he just wanted to see him more often, but he restrained himself. He leaned in before the other man could react and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. Harry grinned at his astonished look. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then. Goodnight, Malfoy. Let me know when that appointment is.”
And with that, Harry walked back to the Gryffindor Tower.
→→→ Chapter Seven