Fic: Harry Potter and a Series of Unfortunate, yet Highly Amusing, but Most Problematic Events (R)
Author: themarisa
Title: Harry Potter and a Series of Unfortunate, yet Highly Amusing, but Most Problematic Events
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, mention of Hermione/Ron, Remus/Sirius, Remus/Tonks
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Harry is preparing for his death but then Draco gets him pregnant. Add Voldemort, classes, and 7th year is the worst year yet.
Warnings (if any): MPREG!
Total word count: 7,269
Original prompt request number: 59
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): I hope you like this! I took your prompt ideas, added and few of my own, and this came out.
Beta(s): kittywitch
Harry Potter and a Series of Unfortunate, yet Highly Amusing, but Most Problematic Events
Seventeen was supposed to be a good year for wizards. Harry already wanted to skip it. The party was lively and the food plentiful at the Weasley house. Harry wasn’t in the mood for celebrating such a meaningless accomplishment. So he got through another fucking year, great job. It was only one more day closer to the inevitable, the punch line in this epic tragedy that was building. Harry walked further and further away from the robust voices of his friends and surrogate family. He was preparing for his own personal agony, complete with the stereotypical livid gaze upon the sky. Perhaps he would state in a harsh whisper “why have you forsaken me?”, but Harry was never one for dramatics. Just when he was about to have his moment, a rustling came from his left side. Harry froze and reached for his wand. Wonderful, Death Eaters wouldn’t even allow him the luxury of feeling sorry for himself on his birthday. They were truly unimaginable bastards at times. Before a curse rolled off his lips, a mop of white blond hair appeared out of the green leaves. Harry laid eyes on his public sworn enemy, Draco Malfoy.
“Evening Potter, going on a stroll at this hour?”
Harry briskly rushed over to where Draco was standing and jabbed his wand at his throat. Without hesitation, he smashed his lips against Draco’s in a move that was both calculated and a bit painful. Harry pulled back, lowered his wand, and sank into Draco’s arms.
“You came, I can’t believe you. This is suicide, they will know you’re missing.”
“I don’t care. Besides, father thinks I’m asleep dreaming of torturing Muggles with various hexes. I doubt he’ll investigate the matter further.”
Harry pulled back to study Draco’s face. There were the usual features, all of which were aristocratic in nature, formed by generations of privilege and superiority. Before, he dreaded those features as they pranced down the stone hallways of Hogwarts. Now, they were the highlight of his normally bleak and disappointing days.
“Your blood doesn’t just carry pure wizard stock, it also harbors insanity.”
“Oh Potter, always assuming everything that drives me can be easily explained by a mental illness. I came here to celebrate your birthday and to possibly save you from the Weasels.”
“The Weasleys are like my family. I do not need to be saved from them.”
“But they’ll infect you with red-haired poverty. I will not stand for it. By the way, happy birthday.”
Draco placed into Harry’s hand a small, back box with a green ribbon tied neatly around it. Even a birthday present must represent the persistent house rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco wouldn’t admit that now; he would carefully construct a lie that the ribbon was meant to represent the colour of Harry’s eyes.
Harry pulled the ribbon and allowed it to unfurl naturally. He opened the lid to reveal a silver bracelet, perfectly smooth and symmetrical, with a thin braided row on either side. It was simple, but absolutely stunning. Harry quickly had a new favorite possession that wasn’t Draco.
“Draco, it’s...”
“Look on the other side of the bracelet.”
Following the prompt, Harry peered at the underside to see an elegantly engraved phrase.
True love does not come by finding the perfect person, but by
learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.
Harry hated the heavens at that very moment. He was supposed to die alone, regretting nothing. Instead, he now had something to live for. Harry broke that night and allowed himself to behave as irresponsibly as his age dictated. He and Draco molded into one another, gasping, panting, hands roaming over every patch of skin until they met a blissful end. In the afterglow, Harry writhered beneath Draco, covered in sweat and semen, trying to lock this moment away in the ones he wanted to flash before his eyes when Voldemort finally got the curse right.
****
Hogwarts was not the same place. The war raged, people fled, and the once protective walls of the ancient school seemed ready to crumble. Harry thought the only reason why Voldemort himself was not already Headmaster had to do with Dumbledore. Even in his weakened state, the poison having forever done its damage, the old wizard was still a force. He and his loyal staff were trying to do everything to give the impression that it was business as usual. No one was really fooled by the image, but the lie was easier to buy then the truth.
Three months had passed since Harry’s birthday. The Scottish moors began to reflect the mood of the student body and were grey, listless, with a permanent frost in the air. During the week, Harry spent most of his time trying to focus on his studies. However, every free moment was spent trying to locate those Goddamn Horcruxes. It struck Harry as amusing that he was considered to be the wizard world’s last hope and yet he was also expected to perform well in his N.E.W.Ts. Was he to be the perfect student or the perfect hero? Everyone better make up their minds fast. Harry’s schedule left him little time to spend with Draco, who had taken Dumbledore up on his offer and entered into the Severus Snape School of Redemption. Death Eater by day, member of the Order of the Phoenix by night. Hermione and Ron, suffering by proxy along with Harry, knew of this latest development. They respected the prat for his nerve, they just didn’t have to like him. Besides, they had ways to entertain themselves nowadays. Harry didn’t mind, everyone needed something to get rid of the stress. However, he did mind that on top of everything else, he had caught some kind of mutant stomach virus that didn’t want to leave his system. Yes, it would be just his luck, Harry thought, that he would be facing the Darkest Lord while also battling the runs.
Harry was now kneeling before his new porcelain idol and heaving the remnants of his breakfast. He didn’t know was possessed him to eat four sausages, three eggs, a bowl of oatmeal and all that toast, but he was so hungry. He felt like a 4th year girl, trying to fit into her dress robes before a ball, binging away and purging the evidence. Harry was now a pro at this start to his morning. Eat, heave, eat some more, feel nauseous, heave again, and get ready for some kind of nap. He realized that a trip to Madam Pomfrey was in order. Maybe he would “accidentally” take the long way and walk past the Slytherin chambers, stumble upon a certain prince...hold that thought, the eggs were making a surprise return.
*****
“How long have these symptoms persisted Mr. Potter?”
“Oh, I would say a little over a month now. I thought it was just some kind of bug but it doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”
“Sit back and let me run a few diagnostic tests.”
Harry laid back on the examination table and allowed the aged Mediwitch to run her tests. He half hoped it was some kind of incurable disease that would cause him to die shortly. Okay, Voldemort would survive but he wouldn’t have to go out in a blaze of glory as he was being told he would. He shook the notion from his head, Gryffindors were supposed to be brave or something along those lines. Lost in his thoughts, Harry barely noticed Pomfrey drop her wand and gasp. His attention turned to her as she literally backed away from him. Were his jaded musings actually turning into an ironic reality?
“What is it?”
“This...this cannot be.”
“What cannot be? Tell me!”
“Harry, be honest. Have you had any sexual encounters recently with another, well, another man?”
What in the name of Merlin did his sex life has anything to do with a deadly, yet perfectly timed disease? He feared that with an admission to this question, his desires for the same sex going to splashed all over the Prophet. Another feather in his cap; Harry Potter: Homosexual Wonder.
“Um, yes. Why?”
“There is no easy way to tell you this but, Harry, you’re pregnant.”
“WHAT!”
And that is when Harry lost consciousness.
*****
He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but long enough for the news of his delicate “condition” to leak out. He opened his weak eyes to notice a linen divider had been placed around his bed. Hushed whispers crept over the boundary of people who were engaged in a heated conversation to which they were not prepared to ever have.
“All options must be discussed with him, Poppy, he must know there are other avenues one can take when in this sort of position.”
“Albus, you cannot be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“I’m not suggesting anything; I’m just informing you of the proper way this must be handled. Do we know who the father is?”
“No, Harry didn’t say anything.”
“My vote is for the sixth Weasley boy. They spend enough time with each other for things to occur.”
“Severus! We are not going to be taking bets on the father’s identity. Besides, he is too enraptured by Ms. Granger to notice anybody else.”
Harry had to smile somewhat. Ron and him? Freckles were never his thing. He wondered what Dumbledore meant by all options. Oh, that. Something didn’t sit right with Harry about that option. He knew that a male pregnancy was against nature itself but he remembered once Hermione had clued him in that it did happen in the Wizard world. She had probably discovered the information tucked into forgotten book that only Hermione had read in the past 100 years. But the trigger for such an extraordinary event always stuck with him.
“When two powerful wizards are intimate with one another, a pregnancy can result. The magic of both wizards, however, must be perfectly in sync with the other but at the same time completely opposed. Their magical cores must be identical and conflicting. In short, it would take two highly unique individuals to form a child.”
So he and Draco were one and the same but total opposites in everything. Sometimes he hated magical writers. Why couldn’t they just cut to the point?
Harry turned over to retrieve his glasses that had been placed on the side table, bracelet clanking in the process. The bracelet had not left his wrist since that night three months ago. His movement alerted the others that he was awake. Professor Dumbledore entered first, looking tired and a bit stern. Too stern in all reality. Professor Snape followed second with his usual sneer of disinterested. Finally, Madam Pomfrey took up the rear and looked as though she wanted to hug Harry from now until he was ready to deliver. Dumbledore sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, the gentleness of his eyes was still there but it seemed to be forced.
“Harry, Madam Pomfrey has told us about your condition. This has come as a great shock to all of us, especially to you as I can image.”
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to grow up and be a statistic.”
“Male pregnancy is a rare occurrence but it does happen. However, I’ve never heard of a case in someone as young as yourself. As you can image, the health risks for any man attempting to carry a child are many and great. Considering your age and all the other trials you are facing right now, one must look at other recourses.”
“Excuse me Professor, and allow me to be blunt. I heard what you and Madam Pomfrey were talking about and the answer is no. This happened for a reason, one I’m not sure of yet, but I know there is a purpose behind the...pregnancy.”
Dumbledore let out a sigh. Harry realized that if the man had more strength, he probably would have put up more of a fight.
“As you wish, but this will not be easy. We will do everything we can to protect you but note this; you are now at an even greater risk from Voldemort. The first thing we must do is keep this pregnancy quiet for as long as we can. I’ll inform the Order to see what other provisions can be done.”
Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet and turned to walk out of the enclosed space. Before he did though, the Headmaster turned to face Harry, a strong desire to know something burned in his throat.
“There is one more thing. Who is the father?”
Harry swallowed. It was going to come out sooner or later, might as well be sooner.
“Draco Malfoy sir. We’ve been seeing each other for the past year.”
Dumbledore nodded solemnly and walked past Snape and Pomfrey. Harry swore he heard Dumbledore mutter “I should have let the Death Eaters have him.”
****
He fell asleep shortly after that. Madam Pomfrey decided to keep him in the infirmary for a few days to administer vitamin potions and allow Harry to rest. Instead of being woken by disappointed whispers, he felt a tickling against his forehead. He opened his eyes to see the grey irises of Draco peering down at him. A slow smile spread across his face, he felt safe.
“You fell off your broom again didn’t you?”
“Shut it, git. How did you know I was here?”
“Snape told me. I’m not sure why though. Maybe we’re not being as careful as we think.”
Snape had done something that could be thought of as nice for him. Perish the thought. No, there had to be a motive behind it.
“Oh, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you why I was here.”
“Like I said, I assumed it was your inability to actually stay on a broomstick.”
Harry swallowed hard. He was about to tell Draco that his life was about to take a very unplanned turn. Now Harry understood why Snape had told Draco about his infirmary, more befuddling punishment!
“No, it wasn’t that.”
“Well then, what’s the matter?”
“Draco, I’m pregnant.” Harry added in his mind, “please don’t pass out too.”
Draco stilled. His pale skin seemed to go completely white. The moment ebbed and stretched painfully, a reaction, any kind of reaction, would be sufficient to end it.
“Come again?” Draco choked, trying to allow the words to attain meaning in his head.
“I’m pregnant. You know I haven’t been feeling well and I came to see if Pomfrey could give me something. One of her tests came up weird or something, and she discovered I was pregnant. Dumbledore and Snape already know, not only about this but that you’re the father.”
Another moment so endless it pained Harry to exist in it. Draco was without any words, no recourse. He simply stared motionless at Harry, trying to comprehend the news of his impending fatherhood. Harry half expected Draco to walk away right there and never look back. He wouldn’t hate Draco too much if he did. Hell, if the positions were reversed, Harry would be tempted to do the same thing. But Harry could never quite figure Draco out.
Draco leaned over and kissed Harry. This kiss was soft, almost uneasy. It was like Draco wanted to say a thousand things to Harry but not one word was good enough for this occasion. He pulled back and scooted his chair down Harry’s body and near his midsection. Carefully, Draco placed his head on Harry’s tender stomach which was enjoying its last few days as unchanged. His hand now moved slowly over Harry’s belly in a fluid motion.
“Um, hello baby. I’m your father and well, I guess Harry is your father and mother too. You are certainly getting an interesting start. You were quite unexpected but are no less loved. Now concentrate on getting strong, and we’ll take care of the rest for now.”
Harry decided to add a new moment to the ones he wanted to flash before his eyes when his death approached: Draco’s head on his belly talking to their unborn child.
*****
The robes were good, but they weren’t that good. Harry was now six months pregnant and his secret was getting more difficult to hide. The Quidditch season had been suspended on fears that groups of flying students could provoke attacks. Harry was actually grateful because then he wouldn’t have to come up with some excuse of an injury plaguing him. He knew that lessons and trying to destroy a demon in flesh would not be a proper reason to forfeit his standing in the team. Another factor that played to Harry’s advantage was he was not carrying as big. Madam Pomfrey stated that this was somewhat common in male pregnancies during the second trimester. Although a rounding of their stomach is quite noticeable, it is not as pronounced as in their female counterparts. However, he would only be able to enjoy this for a short time. His third and final trimester was around the corner, and that is when the men played catch up in belly size. For now, Harry played it as if he had just gained a few pounds.
He still hadn’t broken the news to Ron or Hermione yet. And honestly, how does one bring up these things in polite conversation. “Oh hey guys, how’s the research coming? By the way, I’m up the duff.” But eventually they would probably figure out something. Actually, Hermione was already three steps there. She was constantly giving Harry funny looks. The one thing that was looking up was that most of the Horcruxes had been either found or destroyed. The Order was busy securing the items and sending them into oblivion. It had been Harry’s task originally, but that had changed. The official reason was Harry’s safety. However, only a few select members knew of the reality of the situation. Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, who was expecting herself, and Moody were the elite few selected to hear about the impending arrival. He doubted any of them were really in the mood to throw him a baby shower either. Harry did get a special feeling when he thought of Tonks with child, mainly because it was Remus’ child. Who would have suspected that bisexuality existed in werewolves as well. Remus and Sirius shared a love that dare not speak its name but instead howled, usually every Saturday at Grimmauld Place. But with Sirius gone through the tapestry of death, Remus was free to spawn.
Harry was sitting in his bed, studying for an upcoming test in Charms. He did not look up when the door opened and closed to the dorm. It was probably Ron looking for something or Neville hiding from someone. Only when he felt his bed dip is when he looked to see the brown eyes of one Hermione Jean Granger.
Damn. Here we go.
“Harry, can I talk to you?”
“Before you can ask Hermione, I’m pregnant and the baby is Draco Malfoy's.”
“Oh haha. Why do you have to be so sarcastic at times?”
Harry looked up and gave her his “you think I would joke about this?” look. He put down his book and lifted up his shirt to reveal a distended belly. Hermione’s eyes widened. She abruptly got up and walked out of the room. Harry didn’t call after her or do anything. She knew and there was nothing he could really do about it. He went back to his homework.
After dinner, which Hermione was absent from, Harry ignored everyone in the Common Room and decided to go to bed early. He was tired easily and sleep was the only way he could get away from people. Well, he still had those lovely nightmares about Voldemort torturing everyone and their mother. As he walked into the dorm, he noticed a small brown package placed on his bed. Curiously, he opened up the stiff paper to reveal two pairs of baby booties, one pair in the colours of red and orange, the other pair fashioned in green and silver. A note was attached to the footwear.
“Harry,
I love you and will always protect you.
Hermione”
She was annoying, opinionated, stubborn, too smart for her own good, and the best fucking friend any person really deserved. Another memory was to be added to his growing collection.
****
No announcement was made, everyone just knew. Madam Pomfrey was right; the third trimester was the most obvious one. After Hermione found out, Ron was quick to follow. He couldn’t look at Harry the same way for weeks. Ginny outright stopped talking to Harry altogether. Harry was 8 months along, he waddled more than he actually walked. The worst part was Draco. Dumbledore had ordered the two to be separated as much as possible; if the knowledge that the son of a known Death Eater was the father of the Saviour’s child, the River Styx would flow freely through Hogwarts. They communicated through Owls and the occasional stolen moment. Harry had never felt so alone in his entire life, and he was carrying around another person.
Yes, another being was growing inside him. Harry couldn’t help but gape at the large expanse his waistline had become. Hermione had altered the front of his pants with an elastic band that could grow with him. He was only wearing those pants and no shirt. His skin was red, broken lines crept all around and down to his protruding navel. Harry rubbed his stomach and felt a strong kick on his left side. The baby was up; one blessed thing was their hours were similar. Although sometimes the little one didn’t like to sleep in as much. Madam Pomfrey asked if he wanted to know the sex. Harry had refused; he always liked surprises.
Harry put on his Gryffindor jumper and robes and headed down for breakfast. He was greeted by the usual whispers and stares at his midsection. Surely, if all of Hogwarts knew, some kind of word had to have gotten back to Voldemort. Death Eaters sent their kids to school as well. He walked into the Great Hall and immediately his eyes set on Draco. The blond looked so sad, vulnerable. It took all of Harry’s strength not to scream at the top of his lungs that he loved Draco and he was the father. But he didn’t and instead sat down at the far end of the Gryffindor table and quietly ate with Hermione and Ron.
His lessons were awful, everyone stared. So these were the people he was supposed to be fighting for? A group of narrow-minded, nosey prats who’d rather judge than fully understand. Brilliant, the universe sure knew how to pick the lot of people who needed to survive. His final class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry excelled at DADA, even with Snape teaching. Snape was now an interesting figure in his life. He seemed to Harry to be the only one who wasn’t terribly unnerved by the pregnancy. Snape kept his remarks to himself and treated Harry in a way that could only be seen as fairly.
As Harry entered the classroom, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, and Terry Boot were all huddled together in a corner. Their conversation soon became hushed when they noticed Harry. Throughout the lesson, bits and pieces of what they were discussing soon wafted toward Harry’s ear. His eyes stung, just hearing the words.
“...cheap slut...”
“...such a tease.”
“...he probably doesn’t even know whose it is...”
“...nothing but Dumbledore’s plaything anyway...”
Bastards, all three of them. At that moment, Harry wished he had let the snake attack Justin back in second year. He squeezed his eyes tight and tried to quell the tears away. The tears ignored him and came anyhow. Harry couldn’t have told anyone under penalty of death what that lesson had been about. He just knew it was the longest of his life. When it finally ended, Harry just wanted to go back to bed, shut the curtains, and let go. However, that simple request would be denied to him.
“Mr. Potter, please stay after. I would like a word with you.”
What could Snape possibly want to say to him? Harry did as he was told without his usual impish attitude. He didn’t have it in him to pick an argument with Snape today. After everyone had left, Snape quickly exited with the others under promises he would return shortly. Harry picked at the edges of his textbook, disinterested in his surroundings. His picking was interrupted by a hand cradling the underside of his chin. Harry knew that hand; it belonged to Draco.
“Oh Draco”
Harry couldn’t hold it back any longer. He sobbed on his lover’s shoulder. It had been so long since they had been alone. Draco held him close, as close as he could actually. He kissed Harry’s forehead and stroked his back. Snape had retrieved him and said there was a matter that needed to be attended to in his classroom. Draco had no idea what he meant until he saw Harry sitting there looking so forlorn.
“I can’t take this. All the whispers, the looks I get. It’s everything, Draco. I wanted kids but in the future. This happened so fast. And with Voldemort, this fucking war, I just want it to stop!”
“Stop your sobbing Harry, you’ll ruin my robe. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get my clothes freshly pressed now? The elves think they are practically liberated at this point.”
“Fuck you”
“Such language and in front of the youngling.”
Draco knelt down and placed his hands on either side of Harry’s belly. His child, their child, was growing underneath the tightly pulled skin. Draco rested his face against the bump and felt a swift kick to the ear. It was as though the baby was staking claim, giving him a “hey, get lost!” statement.
Harry should have been taken back by the moment. However, his lovable hormones started to kick him. Draco, on his knees, eye level to his cock. Yes, all the ingredients were there for the perfect storm. He let out a low sigh and tried to cover it up via a forced yawn. But Draco sat back his heels and leaned to the right. His eyebrow arched and the Malfoy grin passed on from generation to generation of wealthy scum found its home.
“Potter, are you becoming aroused by the image of me kneeling before you?”
“I’m not going to lie, Draco, yeah I am. It’s been ages since we’ve last...”
“I know. I’ve felt it as well.”
With a casual hand, Draco began to massage Harry's steadily engorging cock through the material of his trousers. The low sigh turned into a groan. Those hands had been sorely missed, especially during Nyx’s shift. A feeling of unabashed sexual desire roared through Harry. He thirsted, craved, needed, demanded, and every other word under the thesaurus entry for want.
Harry leaned back on the table, his arms supporting him on either side. Draco continued his ministrations, and unzipped the altered pants in an act that could only be described as arousing. Harry gulped as he felt a cool, splash of wind grace his cock. And that began the most heated of meetings between him and Draco.
No sooner than Draco was palming Harry’s cock, then Harry was bent over the desk, pants down at his ankles, moaning like a Saturday night special whore, as Draco pounded relentlessly into him. He screamed a line of obscenities, came abruptly, and tried to catch his breath as Draco poured into him a few moments later. They both let out strangled pants, struggling to remain level on weak legs. Baby Potter-Malfoy decided to offer a hardy kick right at that moment. Harry had to smile; he wouldn’t like someone shaking his bed either.
*****
Fully pregnant and fully annoyed. Everything hurt, his back, his feet, even his fucking hair. Harry wanted death to come to all who even looked at him oddly. It was April, the school year was coming to a screaming end. The Horcruxes were almost all gone. Nagini still lived though. From the information the Order could gather, Voldemort was more than aware of Harry’s pregnancy. The only thing protecting him was Hogwarts and Dumbledore, who wasn’t exactly Team Harry these days. Currently, he had taken residence in one of the private room in the Infirmary. All parties decided that it would be best if Harry stayed off his feet as much as possible. Each day, Hermione came to his room with his lessons. He would humour her by pretending to concentrate but in reality, learning advanced Transfiguration spells were pretty low on his list. Ron came around too, but he would mostly talk about non-controversial topics like the latest products the Twins Weasley had invented. Mrs. Weasley stopped by twice a week and puttered about. Harry feared that when she learned of his situation, she would be unforgiving. But Molly Weasley surprised him the most and acted as if her first grandchild was coming along soon. She would bring random sweets, various tiny jumpers, booties, hats, and even a pants suit, and sound advice. The woman had been through six pregnancies; this was her field of expertise.
The best part was that after everyone had left, Draco would sneak in. He would lay behind Harry and rub his stomach. Draco called the bump their little secret. Harry liked the sound of that. Very few things in his life were allowed to be secrets to the outside world. Everyone knew his story better then even he did. To be carrying such a glaring “I’m not telling” bundle was as sweet as a virgin’s honey.
On a particularly boring afternoon, Harry was sitting up in bed finally reading Hogwarts: A History. He had nothing else to do, why not satisfy Hermione. A rush of pain encased him, had someone just Crucio'd him? Oh no, Death Eaters in the school...wait, what was that wet feeling?
“MADAM POMFREY! I THINK IT’S TIME!”
****
Draco ran like a blind man looking for sight from the Slytherin Common Room. Snape had privately told him that Harry had delivered and offered what could have been seen as a Snape smirk. Draco would think about that later but, right now, he had to get to the Infirmary. He darted up staircases, past gossiping portraits, and right through a group of second year Ravenclaws, to finally get to the Infirmary. The door was closed, a first he had even seen. He knocked on the hard wood loudly and a few moments later, the door creaked open.
“Come in Mr. Malfoy,” greeted Madam Pomfrey, who looked tired but relieved.
Draco followed the Mediwitch back to where the private rooms were. She led him to the first door where Harry lay, covered in sweat and hair even more of rat’s nest then usual, holding a small looking thing in his arms.
“Everything went well, Draco. We had to give Harry a cesarean to get the baby out but he did beautifully. The baby is perfectly healthy; 7 pounds, 12 ounces, 23 inches long, ten fingers and ten toes. Oh and it’s a girl.”
Madam Pomfrey turned to leave the two new fathers alone. Draco just stared, he had a daughter. Huh, that was an interesting term. A daughter. He wasn’t really sure what to do with a girl. She already looked so delicate and breakable.
“Draco, get over here and come meet her.”
Draco did what Harry commanded and found himself walking over to the bed. Harry looked utterly exhausted and so happy. In fact, Draco had never seen Harry this absolutely happy before. He sat on the side of the bed and was given the baby to hold. She was beautiful, no question. The baby already had a thatch of dark hair but clearly had Draco’s nose. It seemed she would be a mixture of the two. Draco knew their secret was special, and not just the typical parental joy of believing their kid was some of prodigy. A warming sensation ran through his body as soon as she was placed in his arms. Something about his and Harry’s magic created this creature and now, both of their energies combined to make one fluid being. Right then, Draco knew she would grow to become a powerful witch. He couldn’t help but wonder what house she be sorted into. Maybe Ravenclaw would fit...although Slytherin would cause him nothing but the greatest glee.
“She’s ravishing. I am almost in denial that she’s really here.”
“Deny all you want but I was there and she’s quite impatient.”
“Impatience usually leads to stubborn behavior. Merlin, I was hoping for a Slytherin. Now she’ll be subjected to Gryffindor.”
“Draco, she’s not even an hour old and already you're sorting her. Take it back a notch.”
“Do not look at me as though I am mental. I know it probably has crossed your mind, Saviour Potter. While we bicker, maybe we should converse on a name.”
“What do you think of Molly?”
“I like it as much as I like the name Hermione.”
“Well, there goes my second suggestion.”
“I was thinking of a few family names.”
“I don’t want my daughter to be named Bellatrix.”
“Bite your tongue. Suitable family names from the few of my relatives that did not suffer from acute madness. What do you think of Aildreda?”
“Pass”
“Elysant?”
“That sounds like a disease”
“Osanna then”
“Does anyone in your family have a normal name?”
“Since you’re the czar of names, how about you suggestion that doesn’t reek of squalor and vexation”
“There is one name I’ve always liked. It was the name of one of my primary teachers. She was always so kind to me. During recess, she would sit with me and read stories or play cards. I think she knew what my life was like and tried to help.”
“She sounds like a good person. What was her name?”
“Augusta, Miss Augusta O’Rourke to be exact.”
Draco paused. It had a decent sound and he knew Harry would not be relenting on his feelings for the name Osanna anytime soon.
“I think I like it. Augusta Potter. And one day, Potter-Malfoy.”
“She needs a middle name.”
“I’ve been thinking of one, more then the first name. I wanted to follow the Black family tradition and pick a constellation name. I trust this would have also pleased Sirius to some extent.”
“A very small extent but continue.”
“I did some research and I stumbled upon one: Lynx. Before you roll your eyes, hear me out. As you know, lynx is an animal. I discovered that in ancient literature, the lynx held a symbolic value. It represented a secret of some sort.”
“That’s perfect.”
Draco smiled and leaned over to kiss Harry. He looked down at the sleeping newborn in his arms and back up at Harry. His family, his deliverance.
“Welcome to the family Augusta Lynx Potter, eventually Augusta Lynx Potter-Malfoy.”
Harry added another memory to his stockpile. He wanted this to be his last thought before the green light came.
*****
Three days after Augusta’s birth, all hell broke loose.
Voldemort and friends arrived in full attack mode ready to take down Hogwarts. Harry was still recovering from being ripped in half to retrieve Augusta. Molly had conferred to him that she had a cesarean with the twins and suffered through a lengthy recovery. He was feeding the baby, via bottle, when Remus and Moody burst through the door.
“Harry! Voldemort is here,” said Remus almost as a matter of fact.
Fate.
His fate. Draco’s fate. Augusta’s fate. Everyone’s fate.
“Where’s Draco?”
“Revealing himself.”
That was a way to start the battle, finally come out and tell your parents that you’ve been a closet member of the Order. Maybe he should also tell them he was gay now, it would pale in comparison.
“If he survives the hexes, bring him here.”
As if Accioed, Draco arrived on cue looking more smug then usual.
“I do not think we need to worry about my father. I expect the heart attack to come any moment now.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Everything. I’m actually quite pleased with myself. I thought turning toward the Light would be the ultimate insult to him. Apparently getting the symbol of everything he loathes most pregnant trumped that.”
Before Harry could response with shock, Moody jumped in. “I hate to break up this little stroke fest. But Harry you need to leave now, you’re not safe.”
The commotion grew outside the doors. Screams, rogue hexes, and other horrors filled the castle. His friends would die for him. He decided to return the favor.
“Draco, take Augusta.”
*****
Harry walked into the forest alone. Actually, he didn’t really walk, more like limped. His stomach ached sharply at the site of the incision. But that would end soon, as his martyr image was finally to take shape. Harry knew that was his act. Almost from the very beginning of this tale, Harry had known he would have to die. Somehow, his life, or rather death, would put things back in balance. Voldemort would be defeated in one capacity or another, he was sure of it.
Harry was supposed to have gone through that portrait; instead, he sent Augusta through in the company of Professor Sprout. She would be safe, away from her parents. Harry tried not to sob out loud as he passed his 72 hour old daughter to the old Herbology teacher. Draco remained at the castle, unaware of where Harry had gone. This was his moment in a twisted way.
There was a clearing in the forest, and there was Voldemort in all his white-skinned, no-nose glory. He already had his gruesome looking mouth formed into some variety of a smile. This must have been a pre-victory party for the win that his forces were sure to secure.
“Ah, Harry Potter. The wizard who took away my power as an infant and grew up to become a whore. I’m glad that you managed to find time away from the nefarious services you provide to the male population of Hogwarts and join us.”
“Good evening, Mr. Riddle.”
“Such a tongue on you, Potter. No wonder you are popular. From what I understand you’ve recently procreated. I offer my sincere congratulations and apologize for not bringing a gift for the child.”
“She’s a bit too young for the Mark anyhow.”
“She? A splendid little girl. I hope to meet her one day.”
“Hope can drive a man to the brink. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
“Judging by your genes, I bet she’s already beautiful. I almost cannot wait to see her in ten or eleven years. She’ll be ripe by that time.”
Harry whipped his wand out, blinded by anger. The foul, disgusting beast! The curse was on his lips, he could easy yell it.
But Voldemort was faster.
Harry didn’t have time to relive all those memories he had stored for this occasion. When the green light gets you, it really works quickly.
*****
Harry was standing beside an aged Willow tree in the midst of a pasture. Apparently heaven was a dairy farm. Maybe this was his heaven; he always did love cheese and milk. A figure appeared in the distance. She walked toward him, a mess of red hair and white skin. Harry knew her.
“Mum?”
“Yes, Harry.”
“Death isn’t bad.”
“No, it has it advantages. But you’re not dead.”
“What am I then?”
“You’re in limbo.”
A voice came from the other side of him. A man appeared with his hair, his face, and a look of playfulness.
“So, I’m not really dead only kind of?”
“Exactly. You were the last Horcrux. That night when you were a baby, Voldemort accidentally tore his soul again and transferred a piece to you. Horcruxes can be destroyed by two things: the venom of a basilisk, which you already knew, and the creator themselves. Voldemort did not kill you, merely killed the part of his soul.”
“Makes sense. So who else is here?”
“Sirius. He wanted to be here but he’s bringing Remus over.”
“Damn. Him and Tonks just had Teddy. She wrote to me asking if Draco and I would be the Godparents.”
“Speaking of babies, I feel I’m a bit too young to be a grandmother, Harry.” His mother’s face lit when she spoke of Augusta.
“We didn’t, um, plan on it.”
“Harry, I love you. But really, Malfoy? He’s so upper crust, and stoic, and now the Potters and Malfoys are forever linked. I just really hate Lucius!”
“James! Draco is a fine boy. Be grateful everything worked out well. Harry, I don’t want to push you but you need to make a decision. You can either stay here or go back.”
If this had been a year prior, Harry would have wanted to stay. Life was tiring and Harry was sick of fighting. But things were very different now. He had something to live for, like finishing Hogwarts: A History which turned out to be quite interesting. Oh, and watching Augusta grow up had some perks.
“I want to go back. But, answer me something. Do you know what happens?”
“Yes and no. I can’t tell you the major stuff. However, Augusta was born for a very specific purpose. She’ll go on to great things. But that is all I can say. It’s time for you to go Harry.”
Harry awoke to a finger on his throat and a voice lying when it stated he was dead.
*****
Harry sat in the middle of Hog’s Head, his head resting on Draco’s shoulder, staring at Augusta who was nestling on Hermione’s shoulder. All had been won, good restored, and Voldemort was no more. There was much loss on both sides. Remus, Moody, the elder Creevey, a house-elf or two, possibly even three, the Twin Weasleys were now Just George, it was damn depressing to think about.
They mourned the losses but celebrated the victory. There would be plenty of time to weep later, now a pint and shag were in order. Harry looked at Augusta just as her eyes opened. They were the shade of grey, but had Harry’s eye shape. He looked deep into her eyes, she was the reason he came back. In really thinking about it, Harry knew that if it wasn’t for his Augusta, even the promise of growing old with Draco wasn’t that alluring. He would have stayed and been happy in eternal peace.
But their secret kept him here. Soon Draco and he would make everything official and Augusta would get hyphen Malfoy added to her name. The bracelet that started it all clung to his wrist, splattered in blood and dirt.
All was well.
Actually, all wasn’t well. But definitely much improved from before.
~fin
Title: Harry Potter and a Series of Unfortunate, yet Highly Amusing, but Most Problematic Events
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, mention of Hermione/Ron, Remus/Sirius, Remus/Tonks
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Harry is preparing for his death but then Draco gets him pregnant. Add Voldemort, classes, and 7th year is the worst year yet.
Warnings (if any): MPREG!
Total word count: 7,269
Original prompt request number: 59
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's/artist's notes (if any): I hope you like this! I took your prompt ideas, added and few of my own, and this came out.
Beta(s): kittywitch
Harry Potter and a Series of Unfortunate, yet Highly Amusing, but Most Problematic Events
Seventeen was supposed to be a good year for wizards. Harry already wanted to skip it. The party was lively and the food plentiful at the Weasley house. Harry wasn’t in the mood for celebrating such a meaningless accomplishment. So he got through another fucking year, great job. It was only one more day closer to the inevitable, the punch line in this epic tragedy that was building. Harry walked further and further away from the robust voices of his friends and surrogate family. He was preparing for his own personal agony, complete with the stereotypical livid gaze upon the sky. Perhaps he would state in a harsh whisper “why have you forsaken me?”, but Harry was never one for dramatics. Just when he was about to have his moment, a rustling came from his left side. Harry froze and reached for his wand. Wonderful, Death Eaters wouldn’t even allow him the luxury of feeling sorry for himself on his birthday. They were truly unimaginable bastards at times. Before a curse rolled off his lips, a mop of white blond hair appeared out of the green leaves. Harry laid eyes on his public sworn enemy, Draco Malfoy.
“Evening Potter, going on a stroll at this hour?”
Harry briskly rushed over to where Draco was standing and jabbed his wand at his throat. Without hesitation, he smashed his lips against Draco’s in a move that was both calculated and a bit painful. Harry pulled back, lowered his wand, and sank into Draco’s arms.
“You came, I can’t believe you. This is suicide, they will know you’re missing.”
“I don’t care. Besides, father thinks I’m asleep dreaming of torturing Muggles with various hexes. I doubt he’ll investigate the matter further.”
Harry pulled back to study Draco’s face. There were the usual features, all of which were aristocratic in nature, formed by generations of privilege and superiority. Before, he dreaded those features as they pranced down the stone hallways of Hogwarts. Now, they were the highlight of his normally bleak and disappointing days.
“Your blood doesn’t just carry pure wizard stock, it also harbors insanity.”
“Oh Potter, always assuming everything that drives me can be easily explained by a mental illness. I came here to celebrate your birthday and to possibly save you from the Weasels.”
“The Weasleys are like my family. I do not need to be saved from them.”
“But they’ll infect you with red-haired poverty. I will not stand for it. By the way, happy birthday.”
Draco placed into Harry’s hand a small, back box with a green ribbon tied neatly around it. Even a birthday present must represent the persistent house rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco wouldn’t admit that now; he would carefully construct a lie that the ribbon was meant to represent the colour of Harry’s eyes.
Harry pulled the ribbon and allowed it to unfurl naturally. He opened the lid to reveal a silver bracelet, perfectly smooth and symmetrical, with a thin braided row on either side. It was simple, but absolutely stunning. Harry quickly had a new favorite possession that wasn’t Draco.
“Draco, it’s...”
“Look on the other side of the bracelet.”
Following the prompt, Harry peered at the underside to see an elegantly engraved phrase.
True love does not come by finding the perfect person, but by
learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.
Harry hated the heavens at that very moment. He was supposed to die alone, regretting nothing. Instead, he now had something to live for. Harry broke that night and allowed himself to behave as irresponsibly as his age dictated. He and Draco molded into one another, gasping, panting, hands roaming over every patch of skin until they met a blissful end. In the afterglow, Harry writhered beneath Draco, covered in sweat and semen, trying to lock this moment away in the ones he wanted to flash before his eyes when Voldemort finally got the curse right.
****
Hogwarts was not the same place. The war raged, people fled, and the once protective walls of the ancient school seemed ready to crumble. Harry thought the only reason why Voldemort himself was not already Headmaster had to do with Dumbledore. Even in his weakened state, the poison having forever done its damage, the old wizard was still a force. He and his loyal staff were trying to do everything to give the impression that it was business as usual. No one was really fooled by the image, but the lie was easier to buy then the truth.
Three months had passed since Harry’s birthday. The Scottish moors began to reflect the mood of the student body and were grey, listless, with a permanent frost in the air. During the week, Harry spent most of his time trying to focus on his studies. However, every free moment was spent trying to locate those Goddamn Horcruxes. It struck Harry as amusing that he was considered to be the wizard world’s last hope and yet he was also expected to perform well in his N.E.W.Ts. Was he to be the perfect student or the perfect hero? Everyone better make up their minds fast. Harry’s schedule left him little time to spend with Draco, who had taken Dumbledore up on his offer and entered into the Severus Snape School of Redemption. Death Eater by day, member of the Order of the Phoenix by night. Hermione and Ron, suffering by proxy along with Harry, knew of this latest development. They respected the prat for his nerve, they just didn’t have to like him. Besides, they had ways to entertain themselves nowadays. Harry didn’t mind, everyone needed something to get rid of the stress. However, he did mind that on top of everything else, he had caught some kind of mutant stomach virus that didn’t want to leave his system. Yes, it would be just his luck, Harry thought, that he would be facing the Darkest Lord while also battling the runs.
Harry was now kneeling before his new porcelain idol and heaving the remnants of his breakfast. He didn’t know was possessed him to eat four sausages, three eggs, a bowl of oatmeal and all that toast, but he was so hungry. He felt like a 4th year girl, trying to fit into her dress robes before a ball, binging away and purging the evidence. Harry was now a pro at this start to his morning. Eat, heave, eat some more, feel nauseous, heave again, and get ready for some kind of nap. He realized that a trip to Madam Pomfrey was in order. Maybe he would “accidentally” take the long way and walk past the Slytherin chambers, stumble upon a certain prince...hold that thought, the eggs were making a surprise return.
*****
“How long have these symptoms persisted Mr. Potter?”
“Oh, I would say a little over a month now. I thought it was just some kind of bug but it doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”
“Sit back and let me run a few diagnostic tests.”
Harry laid back on the examination table and allowed the aged Mediwitch to run her tests. He half hoped it was some kind of incurable disease that would cause him to die shortly. Okay, Voldemort would survive but he wouldn’t have to go out in a blaze of glory as he was being told he would. He shook the notion from his head, Gryffindors were supposed to be brave or something along those lines. Lost in his thoughts, Harry barely noticed Pomfrey drop her wand and gasp. His attention turned to her as she literally backed away from him. Were his jaded musings actually turning into an ironic reality?
“What is it?”
“This...this cannot be.”
“What cannot be? Tell me!”
“Harry, be honest. Have you had any sexual encounters recently with another, well, another man?”
What in the name of Merlin did his sex life has anything to do with a deadly, yet perfectly timed disease? He feared that with an admission to this question, his desires for the same sex going to splashed all over the Prophet. Another feather in his cap; Harry Potter: Homosexual Wonder.
“Um, yes. Why?”
“There is no easy way to tell you this but, Harry, you’re pregnant.”
“WHAT!”
And that is when Harry lost consciousness.
*****
He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but long enough for the news of his delicate “condition” to leak out. He opened his weak eyes to notice a linen divider had been placed around his bed. Hushed whispers crept over the boundary of people who were engaged in a heated conversation to which they were not prepared to ever have.
“All options must be discussed with him, Poppy, he must know there are other avenues one can take when in this sort of position.”
“Albus, you cannot be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“I’m not suggesting anything; I’m just informing you of the proper way this must be handled. Do we know who the father is?”
“No, Harry didn’t say anything.”
“My vote is for the sixth Weasley boy. They spend enough time with each other for things to occur.”
“Severus! We are not going to be taking bets on the father’s identity. Besides, he is too enraptured by Ms. Granger to notice anybody else.”
Harry had to smile somewhat. Ron and him? Freckles were never his thing. He wondered what Dumbledore meant by all options. Oh, that. Something didn’t sit right with Harry about that option. He knew that a male pregnancy was against nature itself but he remembered once Hermione had clued him in that it did happen in the Wizard world. She had probably discovered the information tucked into forgotten book that only Hermione had read in the past 100 years. But the trigger for such an extraordinary event always stuck with him.
“When two powerful wizards are intimate with one another, a pregnancy can result. The magic of both wizards, however, must be perfectly in sync with the other but at the same time completely opposed. Their magical cores must be identical and conflicting. In short, it would take two highly unique individuals to form a child.”
So he and Draco were one and the same but total opposites in everything. Sometimes he hated magical writers. Why couldn’t they just cut to the point?
Harry turned over to retrieve his glasses that had been placed on the side table, bracelet clanking in the process. The bracelet had not left his wrist since that night three months ago. His movement alerted the others that he was awake. Professor Dumbledore entered first, looking tired and a bit stern. Too stern in all reality. Professor Snape followed second with his usual sneer of disinterested. Finally, Madam Pomfrey took up the rear and looked as though she wanted to hug Harry from now until he was ready to deliver. Dumbledore sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, the gentleness of his eyes was still there but it seemed to be forced.
“Harry, Madam Pomfrey has told us about your condition. This has come as a great shock to all of us, especially to you as I can image.”
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to grow up and be a statistic.”
“Male pregnancy is a rare occurrence but it does happen. However, I’ve never heard of a case in someone as young as yourself. As you can image, the health risks for any man attempting to carry a child are many and great. Considering your age and all the other trials you are facing right now, one must look at other recourses.”
“Excuse me Professor, and allow me to be blunt. I heard what you and Madam Pomfrey were talking about and the answer is no. This happened for a reason, one I’m not sure of yet, but I know there is a purpose behind the...pregnancy.”
Dumbledore let out a sigh. Harry realized that if the man had more strength, he probably would have put up more of a fight.
“As you wish, but this will not be easy. We will do everything we can to protect you but note this; you are now at an even greater risk from Voldemort. The first thing we must do is keep this pregnancy quiet for as long as we can. I’ll inform the Order to see what other provisions can be done.”
Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet and turned to walk out of the enclosed space. Before he did though, the Headmaster turned to face Harry, a strong desire to know something burned in his throat.
“There is one more thing. Who is the father?”
Harry swallowed. It was going to come out sooner or later, might as well be sooner.
“Draco Malfoy sir. We’ve been seeing each other for the past year.”
Dumbledore nodded solemnly and walked past Snape and Pomfrey. Harry swore he heard Dumbledore mutter “I should have let the Death Eaters have him.”
****
He fell asleep shortly after that. Madam Pomfrey decided to keep him in the infirmary for a few days to administer vitamin potions and allow Harry to rest. Instead of being woken by disappointed whispers, he felt a tickling against his forehead. He opened his eyes to see the grey irises of Draco peering down at him. A slow smile spread across his face, he felt safe.
“You fell off your broom again didn’t you?”
“Shut it, git. How did you know I was here?”
“Snape told me. I’m not sure why though. Maybe we’re not being as careful as we think.”
Snape had done something that could be thought of as nice for him. Perish the thought. No, there had to be a motive behind it.
“Oh, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you why I was here.”
“Like I said, I assumed it was your inability to actually stay on a broomstick.”
Harry swallowed hard. He was about to tell Draco that his life was about to take a very unplanned turn. Now Harry understood why Snape had told Draco about his infirmary, more befuddling punishment!
“No, it wasn’t that.”
“Well then, what’s the matter?”
“Draco, I’m pregnant.” Harry added in his mind, “please don’t pass out too.”
Draco stilled. His pale skin seemed to go completely white. The moment ebbed and stretched painfully, a reaction, any kind of reaction, would be sufficient to end it.
“Come again?” Draco choked, trying to allow the words to attain meaning in his head.
“I’m pregnant. You know I haven’t been feeling well and I came to see if Pomfrey could give me something. One of her tests came up weird or something, and she discovered I was pregnant. Dumbledore and Snape already know, not only about this but that you’re the father.”
Another moment so endless it pained Harry to exist in it. Draco was without any words, no recourse. He simply stared motionless at Harry, trying to comprehend the news of his impending fatherhood. Harry half expected Draco to walk away right there and never look back. He wouldn’t hate Draco too much if he did. Hell, if the positions were reversed, Harry would be tempted to do the same thing. But Harry could never quite figure Draco out.
Draco leaned over and kissed Harry. This kiss was soft, almost uneasy. It was like Draco wanted to say a thousand things to Harry but not one word was good enough for this occasion. He pulled back and scooted his chair down Harry’s body and near his midsection. Carefully, Draco placed his head on Harry’s tender stomach which was enjoying its last few days as unchanged. His hand now moved slowly over Harry’s belly in a fluid motion.
“Um, hello baby. I’m your father and well, I guess Harry is your father and mother too. You are certainly getting an interesting start. You were quite unexpected but are no less loved. Now concentrate on getting strong, and we’ll take care of the rest for now.”
Harry decided to add a new moment to the ones he wanted to flash before his eyes when his death approached: Draco’s head on his belly talking to their unborn child.
*****
The robes were good, but they weren’t that good. Harry was now six months pregnant and his secret was getting more difficult to hide. The Quidditch season had been suspended on fears that groups of flying students could provoke attacks. Harry was actually grateful because then he wouldn’t have to come up with some excuse of an injury plaguing him. He knew that lessons and trying to destroy a demon in flesh would not be a proper reason to forfeit his standing in the team. Another factor that played to Harry’s advantage was he was not carrying as big. Madam Pomfrey stated that this was somewhat common in male pregnancies during the second trimester. Although a rounding of their stomach is quite noticeable, it is not as pronounced as in their female counterparts. However, he would only be able to enjoy this for a short time. His third and final trimester was around the corner, and that is when the men played catch up in belly size. For now, Harry played it as if he had just gained a few pounds.
He still hadn’t broken the news to Ron or Hermione yet. And honestly, how does one bring up these things in polite conversation. “Oh hey guys, how’s the research coming? By the way, I’m up the duff.” But eventually they would probably figure out something. Actually, Hermione was already three steps there. She was constantly giving Harry funny looks. The one thing that was looking up was that most of the Horcruxes had been either found or destroyed. The Order was busy securing the items and sending them into oblivion. It had been Harry’s task originally, but that had changed. The official reason was Harry’s safety. However, only a few select members knew of the reality of the situation. Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, who was expecting herself, and Moody were the elite few selected to hear about the impending arrival. He doubted any of them were really in the mood to throw him a baby shower either. Harry did get a special feeling when he thought of Tonks with child, mainly because it was Remus’ child. Who would have suspected that bisexuality existed in werewolves as well. Remus and Sirius shared a love that dare not speak its name but instead howled, usually every Saturday at Grimmauld Place. But with Sirius gone through the tapestry of death, Remus was free to spawn.
Harry was sitting in his bed, studying for an upcoming test in Charms. He did not look up when the door opened and closed to the dorm. It was probably Ron looking for something or Neville hiding from someone. Only when he felt his bed dip is when he looked to see the brown eyes of one Hermione Jean Granger.
Damn. Here we go.
“Harry, can I talk to you?”
“Before you can ask Hermione, I’m pregnant and the baby is Draco Malfoy's.”
“Oh haha. Why do you have to be so sarcastic at times?”
Harry looked up and gave her his “you think I would joke about this?” look. He put down his book and lifted up his shirt to reveal a distended belly. Hermione’s eyes widened. She abruptly got up and walked out of the room. Harry didn’t call after her or do anything. She knew and there was nothing he could really do about it. He went back to his homework.
After dinner, which Hermione was absent from, Harry ignored everyone in the Common Room and decided to go to bed early. He was tired easily and sleep was the only way he could get away from people. Well, he still had those lovely nightmares about Voldemort torturing everyone and their mother. As he walked into the dorm, he noticed a small brown package placed on his bed. Curiously, he opened up the stiff paper to reveal two pairs of baby booties, one pair in the colours of red and orange, the other pair fashioned in green and silver. A note was attached to the footwear.
“Harry,
I love you and will always protect you.
Hermione”
She was annoying, opinionated, stubborn, too smart for her own good, and the best fucking friend any person really deserved. Another memory was to be added to his growing collection.
****
No announcement was made, everyone just knew. Madam Pomfrey was right; the third trimester was the most obvious one. After Hermione found out, Ron was quick to follow. He couldn’t look at Harry the same way for weeks. Ginny outright stopped talking to Harry altogether. Harry was 8 months along, he waddled more than he actually walked. The worst part was Draco. Dumbledore had ordered the two to be separated as much as possible; if the knowledge that the son of a known Death Eater was the father of the Saviour’s child, the River Styx would flow freely through Hogwarts. They communicated through Owls and the occasional stolen moment. Harry had never felt so alone in his entire life, and he was carrying around another person.
Yes, another being was growing inside him. Harry couldn’t help but gape at the large expanse his waistline had become. Hermione had altered the front of his pants with an elastic band that could grow with him. He was only wearing those pants and no shirt. His skin was red, broken lines crept all around and down to his protruding navel. Harry rubbed his stomach and felt a strong kick on his left side. The baby was up; one blessed thing was their hours were similar. Although sometimes the little one didn’t like to sleep in as much. Madam Pomfrey asked if he wanted to know the sex. Harry had refused; he always liked surprises.
Harry put on his Gryffindor jumper and robes and headed down for breakfast. He was greeted by the usual whispers and stares at his midsection. Surely, if all of Hogwarts knew, some kind of word had to have gotten back to Voldemort. Death Eaters sent their kids to school as well. He walked into the Great Hall and immediately his eyes set on Draco. The blond looked so sad, vulnerable. It took all of Harry’s strength not to scream at the top of his lungs that he loved Draco and he was the father. But he didn’t and instead sat down at the far end of the Gryffindor table and quietly ate with Hermione and Ron.
His lessons were awful, everyone stared. So these were the people he was supposed to be fighting for? A group of narrow-minded, nosey prats who’d rather judge than fully understand. Brilliant, the universe sure knew how to pick the lot of people who needed to survive. His final class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry excelled at DADA, even with Snape teaching. Snape was now an interesting figure in his life. He seemed to Harry to be the only one who wasn’t terribly unnerved by the pregnancy. Snape kept his remarks to himself and treated Harry in a way that could only be seen as fairly.
As Harry entered the classroom, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, and Terry Boot were all huddled together in a corner. Their conversation soon became hushed when they noticed Harry. Throughout the lesson, bits and pieces of what they were discussing soon wafted toward Harry’s ear. His eyes stung, just hearing the words.
“...cheap slut...”
“...such a tease.”
“...he probably doesn’t even know whose it is...”
“...nothing but Dumbledore’s plaything anyway...”
Bastards, all three of them. At that moment, Harry wished he had let the snake attack Justin back in second year. He squeezed his eyes tight and tried to quell the tears away. The tears ignored him and came anyhow. Harry couldn’t have told anyone under penalty of death what that lesson had been about. He just knew it was the longest of his life. When it finally ended, Harry just wanted to go back to bed, shut the curtains, and let go. However, that simple request would be denied to him.
“Mr. Potter, please stay after. I would like a word with you.”
What could Snape possibly want to say to him? Harry did as he was told without his usual impish attitude. He didn’t have it in him to pick an argument with Snape today. After everyone had left, Snape quickly exited with the others under promises he would return shortly. Harry picked at the edges of his textbook, disinterested in his surroundings. His picking was interrupted by a hand cradling the underside of his chin. Harry knew that hand; it belonged to Draco.
“Oh Draco”
Harry couldn’t hold it back any longer. He sobbed on his lover’s shoulder. It had been so long since they had been alone. Draco held him close, as close as he could actually. He kissed Harry’s forehead and stroked his back. Snape had retrieved him and said there was a matter that needed to be attended to in his classroom. Draco had no idea what he meant until he saw Harry sitting there looking so forlorn.
“I can’t take this. All the whispers, the looks I get. It’s everything, Draco. I wanted kids but in the future. This happened so fast. And with Voldemort, this fucking war, I just want it to stop!”
“Stop your sobbing Harry, you’ll ruin my robe. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get my clothes freshly pressed now? The elves think they are practically liberated at this point.”
“Fuck you”
“Such language and in front of the youngling.”
Draco knelt down and placed his hands on either side of Harry’s belly. His child, their child, was growing underneath the tightly pulled skin. Draco rested his face against the bump and felt a swift kick to the ear. It was as though the baby was staking claim, giving him a “hey, get lost!” statement.
Harry should have been taken back by the moment. However, his lovable hormones started to kick him. Draco, on his knees, eye level to his cock. Yes, all the ingredients were there for the perfect storm. He let out a low sigh and tried to cover it up via a forced yawn. But Draco sat back his heels and leaned to the right. His eyebrow arched and the Malfoy grin passed on from generation to generation of wealthy scum found its home.
“Potter, are you becoming aroused by the image of me kneeling before you?”
“I’m not going to lie, Draco, yeah I am. It’s been ages since we’ve last...”
“I know. I’ve felt it as well.”
With a casual hand, Draco began to massage Harry's steadily engorging cock through the material of his trousers. The low sigh turned into a groan. Those hands had been sorely missed, especially during Nyx’s shift. A feeling of unabashed sexual desire roared through Harry. He thirsted, craved, needed, demanded, and every other word under the thesaurus entry for want.
Harry leaned back on the table, his arms supporting him on either side. Draco continued his ministrations, and unzipped the altered pants in an act that could only be described as arousing. Harry gulped as he felt a cool, splash of wind grace his cock. And that began the most heated of meetings between him and Draco.
No sooner than Draco was palming Harry’s cock, then Harry was bent over the desk, pants down at his ankles, moaning like a Saturday night special whore, as Draco pounded relentlessly into him. He screamed a line of obscenities, came abruptly, and tried to catch his breath as Draco poured into him a few moments later. They both let out strangled pants, struggling to remain level on weak legs. Baby Potter-Malfoy decided to offer a hardy kick right at that moment. Harry had to smile; he wouldn’t like someone shaking his bed either.
*****
Fully pregnant and fully annoyed. Everything hurt, his back, his feet, even his fucking hair. Harry wanted death to come to all who even looked at him oddly. It was April, the school year was coming to a screaming end. The Horcruxes were almost all gone. Nagini still lived though. From the information the Order could gather, Voldemort was more than aware of Harry’s pregnancy. The only thing protecting him was Hogwarts and Dumbledore, who wasn’t exactly Team Harry these days. Currently, he had taken residence in one of the private room in the Infirmary. All parties decided that it would be best if Harry stayed off his feet as much as possible. Each day, Hermione came to his room with his lessons. He would humour her by pretending to concentrate but in reality, learning advanced Transfiguration spells were pretty low on his list. Ron came around too, but he would mostly talk about non-controversial topics like the latest products the Twins Weasley had invented. Mrs. Weasley stopped by twice a week and puttered about. Harry feared that when she learned of his situation, she would be unforgiving. But Molly Weasley surprised him the most and acted as if her first grandchild was coming along soon. She would bring random sweets, various tiny jumpers, booties, hats, and even a pants suit, and sound advice. The woman had been through six pregnancies; this was her field of expertise.
The best part was that after everyone had left, Draco would sneak in. He would lay behind Harry and rub his stomach. Draco called the bump their little secret. Harry liked the sound of that. Very few things in his life were allowed to be secrets to the outside world. Everyone knew his story better then even he did. To be carrying such a glaring “I’m not telling” bundle was as sweet as a virgin’s honey.
On a particularly boring afternoon, Harry was sitting up in bed finally reading Hogwarts: A History. He had nothing else to do, why not satisfy Hermione. A rush of pain encased him, had someone just Crucio'd him? Oh no, Death Eaters in the school...wait, what was that wet feeling?
“MADAM POMFREY! I THINK IT’S TIME!”
****
Draco ran like a blind man looking for sight from the Slytherin Common Room. Snape had privately told him that Harry had delivered and offered what could have been seen as a Snape smirk. Draco would think about that later but, right now, he had to get to the Infirmary. He darted up staircases, past gossiping portraits, and right through a group of second year Ravenclaws, to finally get to the Infirmary. The door was closed, a first he had even seen. He knocked on the hard wood loudly and a few moments later, the door creaked open.
“Come in Mr. Malfoy,” greeted Madam Pomfrey, who looked tired but relieved.
Draco followed the Mediwitch back to where the private rooms were. She led him to the first door where Harry lay, covered in sweat and hair even more of rat’s nest then usual, holding a small looking thing in his arms.
“Everything went well, Draco. We had to give Harry a cesarean to get the baby out but he did beautifully. The baby is perfectly healthy; 7 pounds, 12 ounces, 23 inches long, ten fingers and ten toes. Oh and it’s a girl.”
Madam Pomfrey turned to leave the two new fathers alone. Draco just stared, he had a daughter. Huh, that was an interesting term. A daughter. He wasn’t really sure what to do with a girl. She already looked so delicate and breakable.
“Draco, get over here and come meet her.”
Draco did what Harry commanded and found himself walking over to the bed. Harry looked utterly exhausted and so happy. In fact, Draco had never seen Harry this absolutely happy before. He sat on the side of the bed and was given the baby to hold. She was beautiful, no question. The baby already had a thatch of dark hair but clearly had Draco’s nose. It seemed she would be a mixture of the two. Draco knew their secret was special, and not just the typical parental joy of believing their kid was some of prodigy. A warming sensation ran through his body as soon as she was placed in his arms. Something about his and Harry’s magic created this creature and now, both of their energies combined to make one fluid being. Right then, Draco knew she would grow to become a powerful witch. He couldn’t help but wonder what house she be sorted into. Maybe Ravenclaw would fit...although Slytherin would cause him nothing but the greatest glee.
“She’s ravishing. I am almost in denial that she’s really here.”
“Deny all you want but I was there and she’s quite impatient.”
“Impatience usually leads to stubborn behavior. Merlin, I was hoping for a Slytherin. Now she’ll be subjected to Gryffindor.”
“Draco, she’s not even an hour old and already you're sorting her. Take it back a notch.”
“Do not look at me as though I am mental. I know it probably has crossed your mind, Saviour Potter. While we bicker, maybe we should converse on a name.”
“What do you think of Molly?”
“I like it as much as I like the name Hermione.”
“Well, there goes my second suggestion.”
“I was thinking of a few family names.”
“I don’t want my daughter to be named Bellatrix.”
“Bite your tongue. Suitable family names from the few of my relatives that did not suffer from acute madness. What do you think of Aildreda?”
“Pass”
“Elysant?”
“That sounds like a disease”
“Osanna then”
“Does anyone in your family have a normal name?”
“Since you’re the czar of names, how about you suggestion that doesn’t reek of squalor and vexation”
“There is one name I’ve always liked. It was the name of one of my primary teachers. She was always so kind to me. During recess, she would sit with me and read stories or play cards. I think she knew what my life was like and tried to help.”
“She sounds like a good person. What was her name?”
“Augusta, Miss Augusta O’Rourke to be exact.”
Draco paused. It had a decent sound and he knew Harry would not be relenting on his feelings for the name Osanna anytime soon.
“I think I like it. Augusta Potter. And one day, Potter-Malfoy.”
“She needs a middle name.”
“I’ve been thinking of one, more then the first name. I wanted to follow the Black family tradition and pick a constellation name. I trust this would have also pleased Sirius to some extent.”
“A very small extent but continue.”
“I did some research and I stumbled upon one: Lynx. Before you roll your eyes, hear me out. As you know, lynx is an animal. I discovered that in ancient literature, the lynx held a symbolic value. It represented a secret of some sort.”
“That’s perfect.”
Draco smiled and leaned over to kiss Harry. He looked down at the sleeping newborn in his arms and back up at Harry. His family, his deliverance.
“Welcome to the family Augusta Lynx Potter, eventually Augusta Lynx Potter-Malfoy.”
Harry added another memory to his stockpile. He wanted this to be his last thought before the green light came.
*****
Three days after Augusta’s birth, all hell broke loose.
Voldemort and friends arrived in full attack mode ready to take down Hogwarts. Harry was still recovering from being ripped in half to retrieve Augusta. Molly had conferred to him that she had a cesarean with the twins and suffered through a lengthy recovery. He was feeding the baby, via bottle, when Remus and Moody burst through the door.
“Harry! Voldemort is here,” said Remus almost as a matter of fact.
Fate.
His fate. Draco’s fate. Augusta’s fate. Everyone’s fate.
“Where’s Draco?”
“Revealing himself.”
That was a way to start the battle, finally come out and tell your parents that you’ve been a closet member of the Order. Maybe he should also tell them he was gay now, it would pale in comparison.
“If he survives the hexes, bring him here.”
As if Accioed, Draco arrived on cue looking more smug then usual.
“I do not think we need to worry about my father. I expect the heart attack to come any moment now.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Everything. I’m actually quite pleased with myself. I thought turning toward the Light would be the ultimate insult to him. Apparently getting the symbol of everything he loathes most pregnant trumped that.”
Before Harry could response with shock, Moody jumped in. “I hate to break up this little stroke fest. But Harry you need to leave now, you’re not safe.”
The commotion grew outside the doors. Screams, rogue hexes, and other horrors filled the castle. His friends would die for him. He decided to return the favor.
“Draco, take Augusta.”
*****
Harry walked into the forest alone. Actually, he didn’t really walk, more like limped. His stomach ached sharply at the site of the incision. But that would end soon, as his martyr image was finally to take shape. Harry knew that was his act. Almost from the very beginning of this tale, Harry had known he would have to die. Somehow, his life, or rather death, would put things back in balance. Voldemort would be defeated in one capacity or another, he was sure of it.
Harry was supposed to have gone through that portrait; instead, he sent Augusta through in the company of Professor Sprout. She would be safe, away from her parents. Harry tried not to sob out loud as he passed his 72 hour old daughter to the old Herbology teacher. Draco remained at the castle, unaware of where Harry had gone. This was his moment in a twisted way.
There was a clearing in the forest, and there was Voldemort in all his white-skinned, no-nose glory. He already had his gruesome looking mouth formed into some variety of a smile. This must have been a pre-victory party for the win that his forces were sure to secure.
“Ah, Harry Potter. The wizard who took away my power as an infant and grew up to become a whore. I’m glad that you managed to find time away from the nefarious services you provide to the male population of Hogwarts and join us.”
“Good evening, Mr. Riddle.”
“Such a tongue on you, Potter. No wonder you are popular. From what I understand you’ve recently procreated. I offer my sincere congratulations and apologize for not bringing a gift for the child.”
“She’s a bit too young for the Mark anyhow.”
“She? A splendid little girl. I hope to meet her one day.”
“Hope can drive a man to the brink. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
“Judging by your genes, I bet she’s already beautiful. I almost cannot wait to see her in ten or eleven years. She’ll be ripe by that time.”
Harry whipped his wand out, blinded by anger. The foul, disgusting beast! The curse was on his lips, he could easy yell it.
But Voldemort was faster.
Harry didn’t have time to relive all those memories he had stored for this occasion. When the green light gets you, it really works quickly.
*****
Harry was standing beside an aged Willow tree in the midst of a pasture. Apparently heaven was a dairy farm. Maybe this was his heaven; he always did love cheese and milk. A figure appeared in the distance. She walked toward him, a mess of red hair and white skin. Harry knew her.
“Mum?”
“Yes, Harry.”
“Death isn’t bad.”
“No, it has it advantages. But you’re not dead.”
“What am I then?”
“You’re in limbo.”
A voice came from the other side of him. A man appeared with his hair, his face, and a look of playfulness.
“So, I’m not really dead only kind of?”
“Exactly. You were the last Horcrux. That night when you were a baby, Voldemort accidentally tore his soul again and transferred a piece to you. Horcruxes can be destroyed by two things: the venom of a basilisk, which you already knew, and the creator themselves. Voldemort did not kill you, merely killed the part of his soul.”
“Makes sense. So who else is here?”
“Sirius. He wanted to be here but he’s bringing Remus over.”
“Damn. Him and Tonks just had Teddy. She wrote to me asking if Draco and I would be the Godparents.”
“Speaking of babies, I feel I’m a bit too young to be a grandmother, Harry.” His mother’s face lit when she spoke of Augusta.
“We didn’t, um, plan on it.”
“Harry, I love you. But really, Malfoy? He’s so upper crust, and stoic, and now the Potters and Malfoys are forever linked. I just really hate Lucius!”
“James! Draco is a fine boy. Be grateful everything worked out well. Harry, I don’t want to push you but you need to make a decision. You can either stay here or go back.”
If this had been a year prior, Harry would have wanted to stay. Life was tiring and Harry was sick of fighting. But things were very different now. He had something to live for, like finishing Hogwarts: A History which turned out to be quite interesting. Oh, and watching Augusta grow up had some perks.
“I want to go back. But, answer me something. Do you know what happens?”
“Yes and no. I can’t tell you the major stuff. However, Augusta was born for a very specific purpose. She’ll go on to great things. But that is all I can say. It’s time for you to go Harry.”
Harry awoke to a finger on his throat and a voice lying when it stated he was dead.
*****
Harry sat in the middle of Hog’s Head, his head resting on Draco’s shoulder, staring at Augusta who was nestling on Hermione’s shoulder. All had been won, good restored, and Voldemort was no more. There was much loss on both sides. Remus, Moody, the elder Creevey, a house-elf or two, possibly even three, the Twin Weasleys were now Just George, it was damn depressing to think about.
They mourned the losses but celebrated the victory. There would be plenty of time to weep later, now a pint and shag were in order. Harry looked at Augusta just as her eyes opened. They were the shade of grey, but had Harry’s eye shape. He looked deep into her eyes, she was the reason he came back. In really thinking about it, Harry knew that if it wasn’t for his Augusta, even the promise of growing old with Draco wasn’t that alluring. He would have stayed and been happy in eternal peace.
But their secret kept him here. Soon Draco and he would make everything official and Augusta would get hyphen Malfoy added to her name. The bracelet that started it all clung to his wrist, splattered in blood and dirt.
All was well.
Actually, all wasn’t well. But definitely much improved from before.
~fin