Fic: Of Apathetic Twinges (2/2)
Title: Of Apathetic Twinges (2/2)
Author: frostywonder
Rating: M/Adult
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco doesn't realize how numb he is until Potter brings back his emotions.
Warnings: MPreg
Word count: 8400 (total)
Part 1
October 2004
Oh, Draco thinks, I'd forgotten about that.
He sighs and looks again at his reflection in the mirror, running his hand slowly over the small swell of his lower abdomen. He had been of the intention to visit the Healer before the thing took root, but the Auror Department had kept him busy-so much so that he had been confused when his perfectly fitted robes began to feel tighter about the waist, tugging at his body when he twisted or leaned. How long had it been, for that matter? Did he still have time to visit the Healer?
Twenty minutes later, fully dressed in his not-as-well-fitted-anymore Auror robes, finds Draco in the library, thumbing through a simple Healing text-an outdated text at that, but he suspects that even the old-fashioned basic indicator spells will work fine. He discovers the spell he wants and practices the wand movement briefly before whispering the incantation and lightly tapping his front. The tip of his wand glows a vibrant cyan and he glances again at the text to check the color.
10-13 weeks
Oh.
It may be a bit too late then.
Had it really already been three months?
Well, nothing to be done, he decides, and flips back to the table of contents of the text, now looking for another spell. It turns out to be a tad more difficult than the first but he manages to get it right on his third try and this time the tip of his wand glows red.
Red for a boy, green for a girl
A boy. He is bearing the son of Harry Potter.
How unexpected.
Well, not that unexpected as he and Potter have highly compatible magics and they had participated in an un-protectively-charmed magical binding together, aided by the physical connection of sexual intercourse, but he had never expected for such an ordeal to occur with Potter in the first place, so he allows himself a small amount of surprise at his current situation. Although, of all the men and women whose magic would make up the other half of his child's genetic code, Potter truly wasn't that bad. A half-Potter will work just fine, in fact. The man did bring power and decent looks to the table.
Sighing again, Draco closes the Healing text and levitates it back to its dusty place on the shelf. He'll have to grab a quick breakfast in order to make it to work on time. On that thought, he decides it would likely be best if he put in for some time off-even a stray jinx could cause damage to an unborn child.
Later, as he walks down the gravel drive toward the gate at the edge of the wards, needing to be beyond them in order to apparate to the Ministry, Draco thinks, I should probably come up with a name soon.
-o-o-o-o-
November 2004
The curses are flying overhead and Draco belatedly realizes that he's really not supposed to be here. It is amazing how fast one day had turned into two, then three, then a week, then a month. Robards had been slightly tricky to speak to lately as well, but he supposes he could have tried harder. It seems like he always remembers his growing child when he is on assignments, or when he dresses in the morning (he'd had to have his robes loosened, too), but never when he is sitting in his cubicle, staring at the wall and listening objectively to the whispered gossip of the office, despite that recently he has felt a strange sort of heaviness due to the increased extra weight.
Heavy with child, his mind supplies and the twinge that had been dormant for a while makes itself known again.
Draco reclines against the brick wall and rolls his head to one side to watch Potter deflect and counter as many curses and hexes as possible. This is their first assignment together since the disaster in Bridlington-sort of, that is. Their respective partnerships had been combined as their separate cases became connected. Draco with Holcombe again and Potter with Statton. What would Potter say, Draco wonders, if informed of his son?
The small twinge again-except, no, it had felt different this time.
Draco hesitantly rests his hand on his lower stomach, recklessly oblivious to the wand fight occurring around him as his attention shifts to the swell that is his child, all noises fading out till all he hears is a pleasant hum as if he is encased in a warm bubble shielding him from sights and sounds beyond a two foot radius. A moment passes, then another, and then he again feels what he mistook for the strange twinge that plagues him from time to time. This… He recalls reading about this in the Healing text-
Quickening.
The feeling is just as the text said-like a small butterfly trapped inside his body, gently fluttering its wings. Draco lets out a short laugh, not entirely sure what to make of the feeling and as he wonders about it he feels the twinge again, this time alongside the flutter and stronger, like it's trying to tell him something-
A hard body slams into Draco, yanking him from the unaware bubble, and he finds himself jerked by the front of his robes and spun before being shoved into another wall, the larger body covering his own protectively as bits of brick explode over them.
"What the fuck were you doing?" Potter yells, drawing back to stare at Draco incredulously. Draco blinks, trying to remember where he had been before he'd felt the flutter. Potter gives him a small but none too gentle shake. "Malfoy!"
There is a hoarse wailing nearby and Draco's eyes are drawn to it. Statton is on the ground, holding a bloodied Holcombe, shouting at Holcombe to shut up and stop exacerbating the wound, but Holcombe continues to howl in pain. His eyes wildly search out Draco and he snarls through pain-laced words, "You were supposed to have my back you freak!”
Potter sidesteps into Draco's line of sight again, still looking livid and still clenching Draco's biceps hard enough to bruise. "You almost got Holcombe killed-you almost got yourself killed! What were you doing?"
Draco blinks, bewildered in the onslaught cacophony of sudden noise.
"Malfoy!"
-o-o-
Robards drops a heavy folder on his desk carelessly, scowling at Draco with wide-eyed, appalled outrage.
Draco stares calmly back.
Robards starts to speak, stops, licks his lips, shakes his head, clenches his jaw, and tries again only to repeat the process over once more. After a few more tries, he finally grits out, "Six months."
Draco blinks slowly, uncomprehendingly.
"Six months," Robards repeats but this time adds, "You're on six month leave, half-pay."
"Oh," Draco says, nodding in understanding. "Okay."
His answer seems to irritate Robards and the man glares at him harder. "Okay? Malfoy, do you fully understand what occurred today?" He doesn't give Draco time to answer and plows on, "I should fire you! The sort of daydreaming you showed today could have resulted in the deaths of your fellow Aurors, not to mention your own death! That wasn't even a rookie mistake! That was a pathetic M.L.E. dropout mistake! I should fire you!"
Robards slams his hands on his oak desk in a show of anger, shoving a stack of parchment off one side, before kicking his chair out of the way and turning to face the wall. Draco sits politely quiet through the display and waits for Robards to continue. The man is right, after all. His inattention had been ridiculously foolish.
"But I'm not going to fire you because when you've got your head in the game you're good," Robards sighs after long minutes and turns back to face Draco, "I am putting you on a half-year's leave in the hopes that you fix whatever it is that's had you distracted. I should never have given you assignments in the first place, not when something's been so obviously wrong."
Draco nods again. "In Bridlington-"
"Since before Bridlington," Robards snaps, simmering fury showing through his assumed calm. "You've not been right for a while."
"Oh," Draco says, wondering. He dimly recalls Potter mentioning that he is "different." Had he really changed so much?
Robards straightens his chair from the floor and drops into it wearily. "Six months starting today and I am recommending a Mind Healer. If you're still a fuck-up in six months, you can permanently kiss your position in the department goodbye. Got that? Get outta here."
The floor silences immediately when Draco steps out of Robards's private office-a clear indication that he is the current favorite topic up for discussion-and all eyes follow him-some discreet, other blatantly staring-as he walks to his cubicle. There isn't much there for him to grab; he hadn't decorated the small square with pictures of family or friends or with hobby work like the others. Merely a few Wanted posters, some notes-things that can be left behind.
There is a small, sharp intake of breath behind him as he gathers his few personal items, and he turns to find Potter standing at his cubicle opening, still smudged with ash and dust from the wand fight.
"He fired you?" Potter demands, appearing on the verge of stomping away to Robards's office.
"No," Draco assures him, "I am on leave."
"Oh." A rampage of confused and varying emotions pass over Potter's face. "For how long?"
"Six months," Draco answers and waits for Potter to say something else but continues gathering up his things when no more words are forthcoming.
When he moves to leave the cubicle, Potter grabs his arm like before, only much gentler this time, almost hesitant.
"I'm sorry," Potter murmurs, cheeks lightly reddening. "About before-for shouting. And for…" He soothingly runs a hand over Draco's arm where he'd bruised earlier and Draco feels the responding flutter of their child and, strangely enough, a responding twinge to the touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was upset and- I was upset and worried."
He firmly meets Draco's eyes, his own trying to convey his apology, and the twinge increases, as though a tiny flower is blooming in Draco's chest.
Not entirely sure what is happening within his body but enjoying the tickling sensation all the same, Draco gives Potter a small smile. "I understand. It's fine. I'll see you in six months."
Potter's hand falls back at his side and he swallows before roughly saying, "Yeah. Six months."
On the lifts, Draco hasn't lost the small smile and he decides to name his son James Lucius instead of Lucius James, because Potter deserves that honor for saving Draco and child both.
-o-o-o-o-
March 2005
A Ministry owl taps on the library window, a small piece of parchment tied to its leg. Draco sets his book aside-an up-to-date text with pregnancy advice-and uses the arms of the wingback chair to ease himself into a standing position. He's not all that large-most babies born to wizards were usually smaller than those born to witches, or so his readings have informed him-but he is still awkward with the additional weight, especially since the additional weight enjoyed rolling and twisting and generally making him uncomfortable. Plus, lately, his hips have felt as though they're falling out place every so often.
The owl watches him impatiently as he waddles over and it holds out its leg immediately when he opens the window. As soon as Draco has the note, it shoves off the sill, the burst of air from its great wings blowing the note out of Draco's hands so that it flutters to the floor. With a sigh, Draco takes hold of the window sill and slowly begins his squat-the trick he's learned as of late when needing something below waist level.
The note is short and to the point:
Found Rowle and the others. Life sentences.
Thought you would want to know…
Hope you're doing well,
H.P.
Draco smiles a little-then James kicks and pushes on his bladder.
-o-o-o-o-
April 2005
It begins as a more-insistent-than-usual lower back pain and light cramping while he eats his morning toast, then later the cramping worsens to a similarity of bad gas. He realizes that it must be the beginnings of labor but he would like to finish reading the book on parenting advice and it's not as though James were going to be born within the next hour, thus he takes to the library for most of the morning, only concluding the book a little before noon. The cramps have increased in both intensity and frequency by this point so he decides it would be a good idea to head to St. Mungo's after he finishes lunch.
His water unexpectedly breaks in the St. Mungo's lobby-unexpectedly in that he hadn't expected it quite so soon-and the mediwitches shout at him in rushed irritation for not having come in sooner. They have him on a bed with surprising speed and the Healer hurries into the room, demandingly holding his hands up for the mediwitch to place the cleansing, protective charms on them and hastily saying to Draco, "Hold it-don't have that baby yet! Don't have that baby yet!"
Draco breathes as the books told him to and calmly nods, but really, it is not that he's trying to push, just his body naturally taking over and doing the work for him.
-o-o-
"You are the calmest, quietest birther I have ever seen," the Healer says in awe while he finishes cleaning up, but Draco doesn't hear him, too busy with studying the tiny "human" the mediwitch has forced into his arms.
James is-well-ugly, with a pinched, red face, only a small tuft of black hair on a head too big for its body, a crackly sounding pitched cry, and bulbously swollen eyes that appear to be the same watery blue of every newborn-but Draco decides that he'll do.
-o-o-o-o-
May 2005
The knocks echo through the empty halls all the way to Draco's bedroom. He pauses for a moment to listen for more but then determines that it must have been his imagination and continues to ease James into a tiny robe that has tiny bear ears on its tiny hood-Draco had not known wizarding wear this small existed before having James.
As he exits the bedroom with James garbling over his shoulder, intent on getting them some breakfast, the knocks sound again.
Huh, Draco thinks, and changes directions. When was the last time he'd had a visitor? Who did he know that would even visit? Pansy? Hadn't she moved to Italy with her rich husband three years ago? Blaise? Hadn't he been the rich husband? Milly? Did she even know where he lived? Greg? No, certainly not.
Potter is the one standing on the doorstep, as it turns out, and he starts talking as soon as Draco opens the door.
"Robards said you sent in your papers rather than coming back! Why would you qui-" Potter cuts off when the slobbering bundle in Draco's arms coos. He cocks his head in confusion. "Is that-What, why-That's a baby."
Draco looks down at James-who is squinting his small eyes against the brightness of the outdoors-and then back Potter. "Yes. It is."
"Why do you have a baby?" Potter asks nervously, still staring at James as if expecting a trick.
"Because I got pregnant," Draco answers indifferently and Potter's eyes are firmly back on his again.
"Preg-?" Potter mouths the word over and over again before sputtering, "Wha… When?"
Draco feels the twinge in his chest, though he is more accustomed to it now because, for some reason, it twinges every time he looks down at James, but it seems out of place now, while he's talking to Potter. "When we were in Bridlington."
Potter stares, face frozen in shock, at Draco for a long time-to the point that James begins to get restless and squirm with hunger that has not yet been satisfied and Draco has to break eye contact to maneuver the upset infant into a more comfortable position.
"Malfoy," Potter finally says, slowly, eyes drifting down to James, "That's… Am I the father?"
"Yes, you are."
Potter studies James for a brief moment and then spins on his toe and strides toward the gate without another word.
This time, the twinge in Draco's chest feels more prickly than pleasant.
-o-o-
Potter returns within 30 minutes and doesn't even bother to wait for Draco to answer the door, just knocks sharply and then steps inside the Manor, yelling, "Malfoy! Malfoy!"
Draco sighs and carries baby and bottle from the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt James's suckling. It seems like he fed James not too long ago, but he supposes that had been before the sun was up and James does always manage to drink more than Draco ever expects him to.
Potter darts out of a room Draco doesn't remember, halfway through another shout of Draco's surname, when he catches sight of them. The man appears absolutely livid, Draco notes, but in a composed sort of way. He strides right up to Draco and gestures at the drinking James. "That's my-you had a boy! You were pregnant and you had a boy!"
"Yes," Draco says, "I did."
"That's my son," Potter breathes, glaring.
"Yes," Draco agrees.
"That's my son and you named him James Lucius."
"I did."
Potter licks his lips and gestures to a nearby dusty half-table with dusty candlesticks, commanding, "Put him down for a moment."
Draco blinks. "Why?"
"Because I want to punch you and I can't do that if you're holding a baby," Potter explains, and the corners of Draco's mouth oddly tug up into a smile. Potter lets out a gust of a sigh and turns away, only to immediately turn back. The smile drops from Draco's face; Potter looks wretchedly in pain. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Should I have?" Draco asks, confused.
"Yes!" Potter reaches out, stops, jerks his arms back-runs a hand through his hair. "Yes. You should have told me."
"Oh. I apologize."
"Malfoy," Potter sighs exasperatedly. He steps away so that he can fall back against the nearby wall, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. He keeps them there even as he quietly asks, "Why did you decide to get pregnant?"
Draco understands what Potter means-why hadn't he had the magic removed before it became a child. He shrugs, jostling James in his arms and the baby makes a disgruntled noise. "I don't know. I had wanted one, a child, and then there was that potion. You were going to kill me or instead I could get a child from you. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Afterwards, I simply forgot to go to the Healer."
Potter's hands drop away and he looks at Draco in surprise. "You… forgot?"
Draco shrugs again and nods. Potter watches him as he sets the now empty bottle aside and eases James over the waiting towel on his shoulder, patting lightly until the baby burps and, luckily, there's no burp-up this time (Draco has found the foamy milk and spit combo to be less than appealing).
"May I hold him?" Potter asks, voice soft. He's overly careful and a tad stiff when Draco hands over James, like he's terrified of doing harm. He rubs his thumb over James's pink cheek, looking oddly both mystified and adoring.
"You'll have to work with me on this. I'm not going to ignore that I have a child. I want to help, Draco," he says, and there is something in his eyes when he looks up that makes Draco curiously think he's talking about helping with more than just James.
But Draco doesn't know what else there is that needs help.
-o-o-o-o-
July 2005
"What are you doing?" Draco asks, bouncing James lightly in his arms and observing from the doorway as Potter shrinks the cradle and the suitcases full of his and James's clothes. He has no recollection of packing these.
James is more responsive now, can actually make faces and normal human noises, and his eyes have taken on a distinctly grey hue. Draco smiles down at the child when it garble-giggles.
Potter glances over, tucking the shrunken items into a pocket.
"Why don't you come stay with me for a while?" he asks belatedly, clearly having been the one to do the packing. "So I can see you two longer that a couple of hours every few evenings. My place is nice. You'll like it."
"He seems to be making every decision for us then, doesn't he?" Draco says to James with a light scoff. When he looks up again, Potter is staring at him in amused surprise. "What?"
Potter grins and shakes his head. "Nothing."
-o-o-o-o-
August 2005
Draco hears the floo whoosh from the kitchen, soon followed by Potter's usual call of, "I'm back!" and a second later the man himself appears in the doorway.
"Oh, are you trying him with baby food?" Potter asks, walking over and bending to first give James a kiss on top of the head and then Draco a kiss on the temple-a strange habit he seems to have begun, giving them kisses before he leaves for work and as soon as he returns home. Draco is used to it by now.
"Only a little," Draco says, tipping the small amount of apple sauce into James's mouth. Most of it ends up spit out on James's chin.
Potter disappears, probably to lose his work boots and Auror robes, but his muffled voice drifts in, "What do you want for dinner?"
"Something with lots of vegetables," Draco calls back, and grins slyly to himself when he hears Potter's overdone, exasperated sigh.
Potter doesn't like vegetables.
And his son clearly doesn't like fruit.
-o-o-
"I'm glad it's the weekend tomorrow," Potter sighs and rocks James in his arms once more before setting the baby in the crib.
Draco only hums in response, still toweling his hair dry (drying charms were so terribly damaging to the roots and he has no desire to go bald). He is supposed to have already been moved into the guest bedroom by now, but Potter never has gotten around to setting it up so they still share the master bedroom and bath. Draco doesn't mind; it's oddly nice having someone else so close by when James wakes up fussy in the night.
Draco thinks about this as he leaves the bathroom, flipping the light off so that the bedroom falls into almost darkness-a full moon is in the sky beyond the window and the sunlight reflecting off of it floods the room with an eerie-like shadow. Potter lies on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side, feet nearly touching the floor, and he is wearing to bed the same thing that he always does: flannel pajama bottoms that are too long-he trips on them all the time. He looks handsome with the moonlight washed over him and Draco feels another twinge bloom its tiny flower, but this one is recognizable, this one he remembers.
Desire.
Potter sits up when Draco slowly approaches the bed, mumbling sleepily, "Time for bed?"
Instead of answering, Draco leans forward and kisses him.
-o-o-o-o-
October 2005
Draco doesn't remember the Auror robes having quite so many clasps on them but he had never been in a hurry to remove them so he figures it is possible his memory has flaws. He doesn't bother to unclasp all eight, just does the first four and then he begins to shove the robes off Potter's shoulders. Potter laughs into their kiss and shakes out of the sleeves to grab his waist and walk him backwards toward the couch. They fall onto it gracelessly and Potter sits up for a second to loosen and toe off the heavy Auror boots before swooping down for another kiss and reaching for the buttons on Draco's own robes.
"Wait, wait," Draco breathes. "James is watching!"
Potter lifts his head to look at the baby mouthing on a toy in the nearby playpen, staring at them, and says, "He's six months old. He won't remember."
"Potter!" Draco gasps, scandalized, but Potter laughs and kisses him. Draco allows it for a few more moments, allows a bit more disrobing, and then he pushes at Potter's shoulders again, panting, "Wait."
"I can put up a screen ward if you'd like, so he can't see us," Potter offers with an arched brow.
"No that's not-I mean, yes, please do, but that's not why I…" Draco trails off, swallowing nervously and then biting his lip. It had seemed like a perfectly normal, logical idea when he'd been by himself with James earlier, but now his chest feels fluttery, sort of like a giant version of the twinges.
"What?" Potter asks, concerned. "What's the matter?"
"I… I was thinking…" Draco begins slowly, waiting for Potter's encouraging nod before continuing. "I was thinking that, perhaps, James would want… Maybe he'd want a sibling…"
Potter's eyes widen.
"It is only that," Draco hurries to explain, "I don't want him to be," he chokes a little, "lonely."
His voice has cracked on the word and his breath starts coming in harder pants even though they're simply lying on the couch, neither moving, but the twinge is clenching and it's so weird because this nervous feeling seems familiar but so foreign at the same time.
"I don't want him to be lonely," he says again, and Potter finally moves, even if only to brush the hair from his face and to cup his cheek, and those green eyes are so compassionate and understanding that the words are tumbling out of his mouth before he even knows what they are, his whole body trembling as the twinge bursts painfully. "I was lonely, so lonely. I was so lonely."
"I know," Potter murmurs, hugging him close and gently kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his lips-even as they kept repeating the same phrase.
His fingers dig into Potter's shoulders as he hugs the man close, whispering desperately, "I want another one."
"As many as you want," Potter agrees. "We make a good-looking baby."
-o-o-o-o-
November 2005
The tip of Draco's wand has split into two distinct red glows.
"What does that mean then?" Potter asks, sipping his morning tea.
"Boys," Draco answers with a small smirk.
Potter slowly lowers the cup. "As in, more than one?"
Draco rolls his eyes and gestures to the twin glows. "Two, obviously."
"Oh," Potter says, eyeing his tea thoughtfully. "We'll need a bigger house, I suppose."
Draco smiles.
Author: frostywonder
Rating: M/Adult
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco doesn't realize how numb he is until Potter brings back his emotions.
Warnings: MPreg
Word count: 8400 (total)
Part 1
October 2004
Oh, Draco thinks, I'd forgotten about that.
He sighs and looks again at his reflection in the mirror, running his hand slowly over the small swell of his lower abdomen. He had been of the intention to visit the Healer before the thing took root, but the Auror Department had kept him busy-so much so that he had been confused when his perfectly fitted robes began to feel tighter about the waist, tugging at his body when he twisted or leaned. How long had it been, for that matter? Did he still have time to visit the Healer?
Twenty minutes later, fully dressed in his not-as-well-fitted-anymore Auror robes, finds Draco in the library, thumbing through a simple Healing text-an outdated text at that, but he suspects that even the old-fashioned basic indicator spells will work fine. He discovers the spell he wants and practices the wand movement briefly before whispering the incantation and lightly tapping his front. The tip of his wand glows a vibrant cyan and he glances again at the text to check the color.
10-13 weeks
Oh.
It may be a bit too late then.
Had it really already been three months?
Well, nothing to be done, he decides, and flips back to the table of contents of the text, now looking for another spell. It turns out to be a tad more difficult than the first but he manages to get it right on his third try and this time the tip of his wand glows red.
Red for a boy, green for a girl
A boy. He is bearing the son of Harry Potter.
How unexpected.
Well, not that unexpected as he and Potter have highly compatible magics and they had participated in an un-protectively-charmed magical binding together, aided by the physical connection of sexual intercourse, but he had never expected for such an ordeal to occur with Potter in the first place, so he allows himself a small amount of surprise at his current situation. Although, of all the men and women whose magic would make up the other half of his child's genetic code, Potter truly wasn't that bad. A half-Potter will work just fine, in fact. The man did bring power and decent looks to the table.
Sighing again, Draco closes the Healing text and levitates it back to its dusty place on the shelf. He'll have to grab a quick breakfast in order to make it to work on time. On that thought, he decides it would likely be best if he put in for some time off-even a stray jinx could cause damage to an unborn child.
Later, as he walks down the gravel drive toward the gate at the edge of the wards, needing to be beyond them in order to apparate to the Ministry, Draco thinks, I should probably come up with a name soon.
-o-o-o-o-
November 2004
The curses are flying overhead and Draco belatedly realizes that he's really not supposed to be here. It is amazing how fast one day had turned into two, then three, then a week, then a month. Robards had been slightly tricky to speak to lately as well, but he supposes he could have tried harder. It seems like he always remembers his growing child when he is on assignments, or when he dresses in the morning (he'd had to have his robes loosened, too), but never when he is sitting in his cubicle, staring at the wall and listening objectively to the whispered gossip of the office, despite that recently he has felt a strange sort of heaviness due to the increased extra weight.
Heavy with child, his mind supplies and the twinge that had been dormant for a while makes itself known again.
Draco reclines against the brick wall and rolls his head to one side to watch Potter deflect and counter as many curses and hexes as possible. This is their first assignment together since the disaster in Bridlington-sort of, that is. Their respective partnerships had been combined as their separate cases became connected. Draco with Holcombe again and Potter with Statton. What would Potter say, Draco wonders, if informed of his son?
The small twinge again-except, no, it had felt different this time.
Draco hesitantly rests his hand on his lower stomach, recklessly oblivious to the wand fight occurring around him as his attention shifts to the swell that is his child, all noises fading out till all he hears is a pleasant hum as if he is encased in a warm bubble shielding him from sights and sounds beyond a two foot radius. A moment passes, then another, and then he again feels what he mistook for the strange twinge that plagues him from time to time. This… He recalls reading about this in the Healing text-
Quickening.
The feeling is just as the text said-like a small butterfly trapped inside his body, gently fluttering its wings. Draco lets out a short laugh, not entirely sure what to make of the feeling and as he wonders about it he feels the twinge again, this time alongside the flutter and stronger, like it's trying to tell him something-
A hard body slams into Draco, yanking him from the unaware bubble, and he finds himself jerked by the front of his robes and spun before being shoved into another wall, the larger body covering his own protectively as bits of brick explode over them.
"What the fuck were you doing?" Potter yells, drawing back to stare at Draco incredulously. Draco blinks, trying to remember where he had been before he'd felt the flutter. Potter gives him a small but none too gentle shake. "Malfoy!"
There is a hoarse wailing nearby and Draco's eyes are drawn to it. Statton is on the ground, holding a bloodied Holcombe, shouting at Holcombe to shut up and stop exacerbating the wound, but Holcombe continues to howl in pain. His eyes wildly search out Draco and he snarls through pain-laced words, "You were supposed to have my back you freak!”
Potter sidesteps into Draco's line of sight again, still looking livid and still clenching Draco's biceps hard enough to bruise. "You almost got Holcombe killed-you almost got yourself killed! What were you doing?"
Draco blinks, bewildered in the onslaught cacophony of sudden noise.
"Malfoy!"
-o-o-
Robards drops a heavy folder on his desk carelessly, scowling at Draco with wide-eyed, appalled outrage.
Draco stares calmly back.
Robards starts to speak, stops, licks his lips, shakes his head, clenches his jaw, and tries again only to repeat the process over once more. After a few more tries, he finally grits out, "Six months."
Draco blinks slowly, uncomprehendingly.
"Six months," Robards repeats but this time adds, "You're on six month leave, half-pay."
"Oh," Draco says, nodding in understanding. "Okay."
His answer seems to irritate Robards and the man glares at him harder. "Okay? Malfoy, do you fully understand what occurred today?" He doesn't give Draco time to answer and plows on, "I should fire you! The sort of daydreaming you showed today could have resulted in the deaths of your fellow Aurors, not to mention your own death! That wasn't even a rookie mistake! That was a pathetic M.L.E. dropout mistake! I should fire you!"
Robards slams his hands on his oak desk in a show of anger, shoving a stack of parchment off one side, before kicking his chair out of the way and turning to face the wall. Draco sits politely quiet through the display and waits for Robards to continue. The man is right, after all. His inattention had been ridiculously foolish.
"But I'm not going to fire you because when you've got your head in the game you're good," Robards sighs after long minutes and turns back to face Draco, "I am putting you on a half-year's leave in the hopes that you fix whatever it is that's had you distracted. I should never have given you assignments in the first place, not when something's been so obviously wrong."
Draco nods again. "In Bridlington-"
"Since before Bridlington," Robards snaps, simmering fury showing through his assumed calm. "You've not been right for a while."
"Oh," Draco says, wondering. He dimly recalls Potter mentioning that he is "different." Had he really changed so much?
Robards straightens his chair from the floor and drops into it wearily. "Six months starting today and I am recommending a Mind Healer. If you're still a fuck-up in six months, you can permanently kiss your position in the department goodbye. Got that? Get outta here."
The floor silences immediately when Draco steps out of Robards's private office-a clear indication that he is the current favorite topic up for discussion-and all eyes follow him-some discreet, other blatantly staring-as he walks to his cubicle. There isn't much there for him to grab; he hadn't decorated the small square with pictures of family or friends or with hobby work like the others. Merely a few Wanted posters, some notes-things that can be left behind.
There is a small, sharp intake of breath behind him as he gathers his few personal items, and he turns to find Potter standing at his cubicle opening, still smudged with ash and dust from the wand fight.
"He fired you?" Potter demands, appearing on the verge of stomping away to Robards's office.
"No," Draco assures him, "I am on leave."
"Oh." A rampage of confused and varying emotions pass over Potter's face. "For how long?"
"Six months," Draco answers and waits for Potter to say something else but continues gathering up his things when no more words are forthcoming.
When he moves to leave the cubicle, Potter grabs his arm like before, only much gentler this time, almost hesitant.
"I'm sorry," Potter murmurs, cheeks lightly reddening. "About before-for shouting. And for…" He soothingly runs a hand over Draco's arm where he'd bruised earlier and Draco feels the responding flutter of their child and, strangely enough, a responding twinge to the touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was upset and- I was upset and worried."
He firmly meets Draco's eyes, his own trying to convey his apology, and the twinge increases, as though a tiny flower is blooming in Draco's chest.
Not entirely sure what is happening within his body but enjoying the tickling sensation all the same, Draco gives Potter a small smile. "I understand. It's fine. I'll see you in six months."
Potter's hand falls back at his side and he swallows before roughly saying, "Yeah. Six months."
On the lifts, Draco hasn't lost the small smile and he decides to name his son James Lucius instead of Lucius James, because Potter deserves that honor for saving Draco and child both.
-o-o-o-o-
March 2005
A Ministry owl taps on the library window, a small piece of parchment tied to its leg. Draco sets his book aside-an up-to-date text with pregnancy advice-and uses the arms of the wingback chair to ease himself into a standing position. He's not all that large-most babies born to wizards were usually smaller than those born to witches, or so his readings have informed him-but he is still awkward with the additional weight, especially since the additional weight enjoyed rolling and twisting and generally making him uncomfortable. Plus, lately, his hips have felt as though they're falling out place every so often.
The owl watches him impatiently as he waddles over and it holds out its leg immediately when he opens the window. As soon as Draco has the note, it shoves off the sill, the burst of air from its great wings blowing the note out of Draco's hands so that it flutters to the floor. With a sigh, Draco takes hold of the window sill and slowly begins his squat-the trick he's learned as of late when needing something below waist level.
The note is short and to the point:
Found Rowle and the others. Life sentences.
Thought you would want to know…
Hope you're doing well,
H.P.
Draco smiles a little-then James kicks and pushes on his bladder.
-o-o-o-o-
April 2005
It begins as a more-insistent-than-usual lower back pain and light cramping while he eats his morning toast, then later the cramping worsens to a similarity of bad gas. He realizes that it must be the beginnings of labor but he would like to finish reading the book on parenting advice and it's not as though James were going to be born within the next hour, thus he takes to the library for most of the morning, only concluding the book a little before noon. The cramps have increased in both intensity and frequency by this point so he decides it would be a good idea to head to St. Mungo's after he finishes lunch.
His water unexpectedly breaks in the St. Mungo's lobby-unexpectedly in that he hadn't expected it quite so soon-and the mediwitches shout at him in rushed irritation for not having come in sooner. They have him on a bed with surprising speed and the Healer hurries into the room, demandingly holding his hands up for the mediwitch to place the cleansing, protective charms on them and hastily saying to Draco, "Hold it-don't have that baby yet! Don't have that baby yet!"
Draco breathes as the books told him to and calmly nods, but really, it is not that he's trying to push, just his body naturally taking over and doing the work for him.
-o-o-
"You are the calmest, quietest birther I have ever seen," the Healer says in awe while he finishes cleaning up, but Draco doesn't hear him, too busy with studying the tiny "human" the mediwitch has forced into his arms.
James is-well-ugly, with a pinched, red face, only a small tuft of black hair on a head too big for its body, a crackly sounding pitched cry, and bulbously swollen eyes that appear to be the same watery blue of every newborn-but Draco decides that he'll do.
-o-o-o-o-
May 2005
The knocks echo through the empty halls all the way to Draco's bedroom. He pauses for a moment to listen for more but then determines that it must have been his imagination and continues to ease James into a tiny robe that has tiny bear ears on its tiny hood-Draco had not known wizarding wear this small existed before having James.
As he exits the bedroom with James garbling over his shoulder, intent on getting them some breakfast, the knocks sound again.
Huh, Draco thinks, and changes directions. When was the last time he'd had a visitor? Who did he know that would even visit? Pansy? Hadn't she moved to Italy with her rich husband three years ago? Blaise? Hadn't he been the rich husband? Milly? Did she even know where he lived? Greg? No, certainly not.
Potter is the one standing on the doorstep, as it turns out, and he starts talking as soon as Draco opens the door.
"Robards said you sent in your papers rather than coming back! Why would you qui-" Potter cuts off when the slobbering bundle in Draco's arms coos. He cocks his head in confusion. "Is that-What, why-That's a baby."
Draco looks down at James-who is squinting his small eyes against the brightness of the outdoors-and then back Potter. "Yes. It is."
"Why do you have a baby?" Potter asks nervously, still staring at James as if expecting a trick.
"Because I got pregnant," Draco answers indifferently and Potter's eyes are firmly back on his again.
"Preg-?" Potter mouths the word over and over again before sputtering, "Wha… When?"
Draco feels the twinge in his chest, though he is more accustomed to it now because, for some reason, it twinges every time he looks down at James, but it seems out of place now, while he's talking to Potter. "When we were in Bridlington."
Potter stares, face frozen in shock, at Draco for a long time-to the point that James begins to get restless and squirm with hunger that has not yet been satisfied and Draco has to break eye contact to maneuver the upset infant into a more comfortable position.
"Malfoy," Potter finally says, slowly, eyes drifting down to James, "That's… Am I the father?"
"Yes, you are."
Potter studies James for a brief moment and then spins on his toe and strides toward the gate without another word.
This time, the twinge in Draco's chest feels more prickly than pleasant.
-o-o-
Potter returns within 30 minutes and doesn't even bother to wait for Draco to answer the door, just knocks sharply and then steps inside the Manor, yelling, "Malfoy! Malfoy!"
Draco sighs and carries baby and bottle from the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt James's suckling. It seems like he fed James not too long ago, but he supposes that had been before the sun was up and James does always manage to drink more than Draco ever expects him to.
Potter darts out of a room Draco doesn't remember, halfway through another shout of Draco's surname, when he catches sight of them. The man appears absolutely livid, Draco notes, but in a composed sort of way. He strides right up to Draco and gestures at the drinking James. "That's my-you had a boy! You were pregnant and you had a boy!"
"Yes," Draco says, "I did."
"That's my son," Potter breathes, glaring.
"Yes," Draco agrees.
"That's my son and you named him James Lucius."
"I did."
Potter licks his lips and gestures to a nearby dusty half-table with dusty candlesticks, commanding, "Put him down for a moment."
Draco blinks. "Why?"
"Because I want to punch you and I can't do that if you're holding a baby," Potter explains, and the corners of Draco's mouth oddly tug up into a smile. Potter lets out a gust of a sigh and turns away, only to immediately turn back. The smile drops from Draco's face; Potter looks wretchedly in pain. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Should I have?" Draco asks, confused.
"Yes!" Potter reaches out, stops, jerks his arms back-runs a hand through his hair. "Yes. You should have told me."
"Oh. I apologize."
"Malfoy," Potter sighs exasperatedly. He steps away so that he can fall back against the nearby wall, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. He keeps them there even as he quietly asks, "Why did you decide to get pregnant?"
Draco understands what Potter means-why hadn't he had the magic removed before it became a child. He shrugs, jostling James in his arms and the baby makes a disgruntled noise. "I don't know. I had wanted one, a child, and then there was that potion. You were going to kill me or instead I could get a child from you. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Afterwards, I simply forgot to go to the Healer."
Potter's hands drop away and he looks at Draco in surprise. "You… forgot?"
Draco shrugs again and nods. Potter watches him as he sets the now empty bottle aside and eases James over the waiting towel on his shoulder, patting lightly until the baby burps and, luckily, there's no burp-up this time (Draco has found the foamy milk and spit combo to be less than appealing).
"May I hold him?" Potter asks, voice soft. He's overly careful and a tad stiff when Draco hands over James, like he's terrified of doing harm. He rubs his thumb over James's pink cheek, looking oddly both mystified and adoring.
"You'll have to work with me on this. I'm not going to ignore that I have a child. I want to help, Draco," he says, and there is something in his eyes when he looks up that makes Draco curiously think he's talking about helping with more than just James.
But Draco doesn't know what else there is that needs help.
-o-o-o-o-
July 2005
"What are you doing?" Draco asks, bouncing James lightly in his arms and observing from the doorway as Potter shrinks the cradle and the suitcases full of his and James's clothes. He has no recollection of packing these.
James is more responsive now, can actually make faces and normal human noises, and his eyes have taken on a distinctly grey hue. Draco smiles down at the child when it garble-giggles.
Potter glances over, tucking the shrunken items into a pocket.
"Why don't you come stay with me for a while?" he asks belatedly, clearly having been the one to do the packing. "So I can see you two longer that a couple of hours every few evenings. My place is nice. You'll like it."
"He seems to be making every decision for us then, doesn't he?" Draco says to James with a light scoff. When he looks up again, Potter is staring at him in amused surprise. "What?"
Potter grins and shakes his head. "Nothing."
-o-o-o-o-
August 2005
Draco hears the floo whoosh from the kitchen, soon followed by Potter's usual call of, "I'm back!" and a second later the man himself appears in the doorway.
"Oh, are you trying him with baby food?" Potter asks, walking over and bending to first give James a kiss on top of the head and then Draco a kiss on the temple-a strange habit he seems to have begun, giving them kisses before he leaves for work and as soon as he returns home. Draco is used to it by now.
"Only a little," Draco says, tipping the small amount of apple sauce into James's mouth. Most of it ends up spit out on James's chin.
Potter disappears, probably to lose his work boots and Auror robes, but his muffled voice drifts in, "What do you want for dinner?"
"Something with lots of vegetables," Draco calls back, and grins slyly to himself when he hears Potter's overdone, exasperated sigh.
Potter doesn't like vegetables.
And his son clearly doesn't like fruit.
-o-o-
"I'm glad it's the weekend tomorrow," Potter sighs and rocks James in his arms once more before setting the baby in the crib.
Draco only hums in response, still toweling his hair dry (drying charms were so terribly damaging to the roots and he has no desire to go bald). He is supposed to have already been moved into the guest bedroom by now, but Potter never has gotten around to setting it up so they still share the master bedroom and bath. Draco doesn't mind; it's oddly nice having someone else so close by when James wakes up fussy in the night.
Draco thinks about this as he leaves the bathroom, flipping the light off so that the bedroom falls into almost darkness-a full moon is in the sky beyond the window and the sunlight reflecting off of it floods the room with an eerie-like shadow. Potter lies on the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side, feet nearly touching the floor, and he is wearing to bed the same thing that he always does: flannel pajama bottoms that are too long-he trips on them all the time. He looks handsome with the moonlight washed over him and Draco feels another twinge bloom its tiny flower, but this one is recognizable, this one he remembers.
Desire.
Potter sits up when Draco slowly approaches the bed, mumbling sleepily, "Time for bed?"
Instead of answering, Draco leans forward and kisses him.
-o-o-o-o-
October 2005
Draco doesn't remember the Auror robes having quite so many clasps on them but he had never been in a hurry to remove them so he figures it is possible his memory has flaws. He doesn't bother to unclasp all eight, just does the first four and then he begins to shove the robes off Potter's shoulders. Potter laughs into their kiss and shakes out of the sleeves to grab his waist and walk him backwards toward the couch. They fall onto it gracelessly and Potter sits up for a second to loosen and toe off the heavy Auror boots before swooping down for another kiss and reaching for the buttons on Draco's own robes.
"Wait, wait," Draco breathes. "James is watching!"
Potter lifts his head to look at the baby mouthing on a toy in the nearby playpen, staring at them, and says, "He's six months old. He won't remember."
"Potter!" Draco gasps, scandalized, but Potter laughs and kisses him. Draco allows it for a few more moments, allows a bit more disrobing, and then he pushes at Potter's shoulders again, panting, "Wait."
"I can put up a screen ward if you'd like, so he can't see us," Potter offers with an arched brow.
"No that's not-I mean, yes, please do, but that's not why I…" Draco trails off, swallowing nervously and then biting his lip. It had seemed like a perfectly normal, logical idea when he'd been by himself with James earlier, but now his chest feels fluttery, sort of like a giant version of the twinges.
"What?" Potter asks, concerned. "What's the matter?"
"I… I was thinking…" Draco begins slowly, waiting for Potter's encouraging nod before continuing. "I was thinking that, perhaps, James would want… Maybe he'd want a sibling…"
Potter's eyes widen.
"It is only that," Draco hurries to explain, "I don't want him to be," he chokes a little, "lonely."
His voice has cracked on the word and his breath starts coming in harder pants even though they're simply lying on the couch, neither moving, but the twinge is clenching and it's so weird because this nervous feeling seems familiar but so foreign at the same time.
"I don't want him to be lonely," he says again, and Potter finally moves, even if only to brush the hair from his face and to cup his cheek, and those green eyes are so compassionate and understanding that the words are tumbling out of his mouth before he even knows what they are, his whole body trembling as the twinge bursts painfully. "I was lonely, so lonely. I was so lonely."
"I know," Potter murmurs, hugging him close and gently kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his lips-even as they kept repeating the same phrase.
His fingers dig into Potter's shoulders as he hugs the man close, whispering desperately, "I want another one."
"As many as you want," Potter agrees. "We make a good-looking baby."
-o-o-o-o-
November 2005
The tip of Draco's wand has split into two distinct red glows.
"What does that mean then?" Potter asks, sipping his morning tea.
"Boys," Draco answers with a small smirk.
Potter slowly lowers the cup. "As in, more than one?"
Draco rolls his eyes and gestures to the twin glows. "Two, obviously."
"Oh," Potter says, eyeing his tea thoughtfully. "We'll need a bigger house, I suppose."
Draco smiles.