Fic: Expecting the Unexpected
Title: Expecting the Unexpected
Pairing: Harry/Draco, with Ron/Hermione on the side
Rating: Light R, for adult situations and a bit of swearing
Summary: Draco conceives the baby he and Harry have longed for, but he's annoyed to find that everyone assumes Harry's the one who's pregnant.
Disclaimer: This story 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.
Notes: This was written for the mpreg fest at hd_inspired. The recipient was romaine24, so this was tailored to her wishes. My thanks to aome for the always top-notch beta. I've never written mpreg before, but I had enormous fun doing it and wouldn't say no to writing more. I've modified this slightly since it was posted for the fest. Canon compliant, with elements of the epilogue woven in where appropriate. The ebulani tree and the manner in which Draco gives birth are my own creation.
“It’s positive. Congratulations, gentlemen. You’re having a baby!” Madam Romaine held up her wand, the tip of which was currently glowing a bright blue. She smiled broadly at them both as she delivered the good news.
Harry turned to Draco and helped him up off the bed he was lying on. Pulling him to his feet, Harry wrapped his arms around the taller man and held him tight. “I love you,” he whispered in Draco’s ear, and he felt his husband’s arms go around him. When they stepped out of their embrace, they saw that the witch had gone, leaving them alone.
Harry took the opportunity to kiss Draco delightedly. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents!” Draco kissed him back, but Harry could sense that Draco’s enthusiasm was muted, and a sense of dread washed over him like the pall of a Dementor suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He pulled back so he could look at Draco properly. “Love? Is something wrong?”
When Draco didn’t answer, Harry’s dread increased tenfold and he began to panic. “Draco?” he said, swallowing painfully. “Aren’t you happy?”
Draco leaned back against the bed he’d just gotten off and swiped at his eyes. “Of course I’m happy, you idiot,” he retorted. “But I can’t believe I’m going to get fat!”
Harry was so relieved it wasn’t anything serious that he began to laugh. “Oh, Draco,” he chuckled. “You’re pregnant, love. You’re carrying our baby.” As Harry said the words out loud, they sunk in, and the two men stared at each other in wonder.
“Our baby,” Draco breathed. “We’re having a baby.” His eyes widened, and Harry whooped with pure joy before throwing his arms around Draco again. This time, the younger man’s enthusiasm couldn’t be ignored, and Draco found himself grinning. “Oh God,” he said softly. “What are we doing?”
***
Draco and Harry made the decision to only share the news with their respective families until Draco was past the first trimester. No doubt, the wizarding world’s media would descend upon them like Seekers on a Snitch once they knew that two of the most famous wizards in the world - the same two who had created a scandal by getting married - were expecting a baby, and that one of the men was carrying the baby himself. Male pregnancies were not common, but not unheard of; there had been about one thousand male pregnancies recorded throughout the entire history of the magical world. Not every male was able to carry a child, and both Harry and Draco had submitted to a barrage of tests before being advised that Draco would be able to carry a child to term, if they followed a strict series of rules and requirements.
Both men had thought long and hard about the possibility of a child, and they’d discussed it for over a year before finally deciding to go ahead and try for a baby. Their relationship was solid, having been together for seven years and married for three. They’d had their ups and downs, as did any couple, but were sure of their love for each other and confident they could give a child a happy life. Harry and Draco had also considered all of their options: surrogacy, adoption, and pregnancy, before deciding that they really wanted to try and conceive a child first. And, thanks to magic, it was possible.
Having made the decision to have a child, Harry had turned to Ron and Hermione for support and advice. Hermione had been utterly thrilled at the notion and had immediately started making lists and pulling out books that they could both read from her vast and extensive library. While his wife had been busy playing librarian, Ron had quietly talked to Harry over a Firewhisky and offered his encouragement, assuring Harry that the best part about it was trying to conceive. Harry was grateful to both of them, as he knew they’d struggled with his decision to be in a romantic relationship with Draco at the beginning; he knew they loved him and were worried he’d end up hurt. But, as was always their way, they supported him despite their misgivings and were genuinely pleased that Harry was happy, even if it was with Draco Malfoy. They were the first people he’d told about his engagement and the subsequent decision to try for a baby.
They also decided to tell their families about their decision, as they knew they could confide in them and felt it best to let them know ahead of time before springing the news about an actual pregnancy on them. Both the Malfoys and the Weasleys had expressed their delight at the news, although Harry got the impression that Lucius Malfoy was not as thrilled as he let on.
It had taken several months for Draco to conceive their child, and it was only weeks after telling his best friends about their decision that they’d had some news of their own: Hermione was expecting their first child.
It was a warm Friday night in early spring when Ron and Hermione arrived at the Potter-Malfoy household for dinner. Both Harry and Draco had decided that that Ron and Hermione should be the first to know about the new arrival, and Harry secretly hoped that Draco and Hermione would bond over their pregnancies. Hermione was four months along now and showing; she was wearing a maternity robe in the richest burgundy with a smattering of gold stars on the trim. He hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “You look wonderful,” he said. Pregnancy suited Hermione very well; she had that constant glow of an expectant mother. And it made him smile to watch Ron as he looked adoringly at his wife.
Once greetings were exchanged and the two couples caught up on their respective weeks, Harry served up one of his always delicious dinners, and everyone was quite full by the time they were finished. After dessert, they settled in the living room with cups of tea. Harry stood up near the fire, while Draco perched on the arm of a couch. Ron and Hermione seated themselves opposite.
Harry and Draco exchanged looks, and Draco nodded. “We actually have an ulterior motive for inviting you two over tonight,” Harry said as he turned to look at his best friends. For some odd reason, he’d been a little nervous about telling them, but the looks on their faces evaporated any fears he had. “We wanted to tell you something before anyone else found out.”
Ron put his drink down and sat forward, his eyes moving back and forth from Harry to Draco. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
“No, no, not at all. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Hermione’s eyes widened and she suddenly smiled, having guessed the good news.
“We’re having a baby.”
Ron’s mouth fell open, and Hermione let loose an excited shriek. She leapt off the couch and threw herself at Harry, who was thankfully used to such displays of affection and was ready for her. He held her as she babbled excitedly in his ear. Eventually disentangling herself from him, Hermione turned to Draco, pulled him to his feet, and hugged him, too. Ron took advantage of this by giving his best friend a congratulatory hug of his own. Harry was surprised that Ron seemed to be a little tentative about touching him, and the mystery of why was resolved as Ron pulled back far enough to look at him.
“How far along are you, then? How have you been feeling, any morning sickness?” His concern was genuine, and Harry immediately realised Ron’s train of thought.
Hermione looked at Harry’s face, then at Draco’s, and then put her hand on her husband’s arm. “I don’t think you’re asking the questions of the right person, love.”
Ron turned to look at her as confusion reigned. “What do you mean? I just wondered how Harry’s been since…” It was here that realisation sunk in and his voice trailed off.
“I’m four weeks now, and no morning sickness yet,” Draco said quietly, leaning back against the couch and folding his arms across his chest.
Harry could tell that Ron was surprised as hell, but the redhead hid it behind a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Draco,” he said. “I just assumed it was Harry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Weasley,” Draco said with a shrug, the rancor he’d held for the other man as a child long gone. “You won’t be the only one, I’m sure.”
Ron approached him and held out his hand. “Congratulations. I’m thrilled by your news.”
Draco studied him for a moment before accepting his hand and, to the surprise of everyone in the room, pulled him forward and clapped his back so briefly that if any of them had blinked, they’d have missed it.
Harry pulled Hermione close to him again, kissing her temple. “I should have known that if anyone would guess correctly, it would be you.”
She slid her arms around his waist. “Draco pregnant,” she murmured softly enough so only Harry could hear. “I can’t wait to see how he handles this.” Grinning widely, she raised her voice. “I have plenty of books you can look at, Draco, and would be happy to talk to you about everything.”
Harry had to fight hard to stop himself laughing out loud at the look on his husband’s face; obviously, the prospect of spending more time than he deemed necessary with Hermione didn’t exactly thrill him. But he was glad that Hermione was pregnant, because she would be a huge help down the track for Draco, being a few months ahead of him.
***
When Draco made it to twelve weeks, they decided it was time to tell their parents. The first stop was to a small graveyard behind a church in Godric’s Hollow, where the two men stood at the grave of James and Lily Potter. Harry sunk to his knees on the grass and spoke quietly; Draco stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder for support. Draco never liked coming to the graveyard because Harry was always upset afterwards, but he understood why Harry had needed to come here. Draco left a posy of flowers on the grave, a small offering of thanks to the Potters for their son.
They went straight to Malfoy Manor afterwards to have dinner with Draco’s parents. The elder Malfoys played a much quieter part in pureblood society these days, keeping their heads down. Narcissa Malfoy busied herself by making things for the manor and gifts for her family, and Draco wasn’t quite sure what his father did with his time. Lucius didn’t volunteer the information and Draco didn’t ask, although he was aware, through the Weasleys, that Lucius spent a great deal of time at the Ministry of Magic.
Narcissa greeted them both warmly with hugs and kisses, and then bade them to follow her to the formal dining room, her pale blue robes swishing after her. The family house elf served dinner, and the mood was relaxed as they ate. Lucius had been far from impressed by their son’s choice in partner at the beginning, although Narcissa hadn’t seemed too troubled, but when Draco had stood his ground and refused to give in to his father’s demands that he stop seeing Harry, Lucius relented. Over time, he came to accept that Harry Potter made their son happy, but it was still clear he didn’t particularly like it. It hadn’t been easy, and Harry still held a lot of resentment towards Lucius Malfoy, but for Draco’s sake he kept such feelings to himself and managed to be civil towards his father-in-law.
Draco ignored the flute of fine champagne that stood at his plate and asked the elf for some pumpkin juice before grasping Harry’s hand under the table. “Mother, Father, we have some good news to share with you.” Lucius and Narcissa looked at the men with interest.
“What’s that, darling?” Narcissa asked. “Oh, do tell us you’re going to make us grandparents!”
Draco smiled and nodded. “Yes, actually, we are.”
Narcissa let out a very unladylike shriek and made a beeline for Harry, throwing her arms around his neck and squashing him against her, his glasses sitting askew on his face. “Oh, Harry,” she said, stroking his hair softly. “I’m so pleased for you, darling. Have you been looking after yourself, hmmm? I know of a wonderful healer you can see to help with your morning sickness and whatnot. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.” She hoisted him up out of his chair before he could murmur a word and held him at arms length. Putting on hand on his stomach, she frowned slightly. “You haven’t put on any weight yet, but it’s early days, I know.”
Harry looked at Draco, dumbfounded, and Draco threw his serviette onto his plate, sighing exasperatedly. “For heaven’s sake, Mother,” he said in an annoyed tone. “Stop fussing! Harry’s not carrying the baby, I am.”
Narcissa froze on the spot as Lucius looked over at his son shrewdly.
“What did you say?” she gasped.
Draco glanced at his father, who raised his wine glass in silent salute, a smirk plastered across his face. Lucius had already worked it out but wasn’t going to help his son out on this one. Cursing his father mentally, he turned back to his mother and tried to be as calm as possible. “I’m carrying the baby, Mother. The healers told us Harry wouldn’t be able to carry a child, so I’m the one who’s pregnant.”
The blood drained from Narcissa’s face as she stared at Draco and clung to Harry for support. “You… you’re…” With that, she promptly fainted and, if Harry hadn’t been standing next to her to catch her, would have fallen to the floor.
“Mum!” Draco got out of his seat and hurried to her side. Lucius took in the scene and threw back his head, roaring with laughter.
It was going to be an interesting six months.
***
Two days later Harry and Draco were once again seated in front of a family, but this time it was Harry’s adopted family. The Weasleys still loved Harry like a son and had supported his choices in life, even if they didn’t agree with them. Draco had come to like Arthur Weasley well enough, but found Molly Weasley a little too smothering for his liking. But Harry loved and respected them both, so he made the effort, as Harry had done with his parents.
Harry didn’t bother to wait for dinner to share the news this time round; instead, they were all seated in the back garden of the Burrow with tall glasses of cold, homemade lemonade and enjoying the sun.
“Molly, Arthur, we have some good news we’d like to share with you both.” Harry smiled and took Draco’s hand in his. “We’re having a baby.”
Molly shrieked loudly and grabbed Arthur’s arm, making Draco wonder why on earth all the witches in his life felt the need to shriek all the bloody time, then got out of her seat to throw her arms around the man she considered one of her own. “Oh, Harry!” she said softly, tears already welling up in her eyes. “I’m so very pleased for you, love.”
“Here she goes,” Arthur Weasley said cheerfully as he reached over the small wooden table to shake Draco’s hand. “Blubs every time we find out we’re to have a new grandchild. You’d think she’d be used to it by now.”
Draco couldn’t help but feel a spurt of warmth towards the older man. It never failed to amaze Draco at just how different his life had become from how it had been when he’d been younger; as a teenager, he wouldn’t have spat on the Weasleys if they’d been on fire, but here he was at twenty-eight, sitting in their garden and actually feeling grateful to them for considering his child one of the family. He knew how much their blessing meant to Harry, and he was thankful they’d always given it so lovingly.
“I have a roomful of things to help you over the coming months, dear,” Molly said to Harry as Draco tuned back in. “Can you believe it, Arthur? We’ll have two new little ones to welcome!” Without letting her husband say a word, she turned back to Harry. “Now tell me, Harry, and do be honest, dear. How have you been feeling? Has the morning sickness been very bad? I’m sure I have a potion somewhere that will help with that.”
Draco just stared at his husband. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really, but what the hell was with everyone in the universe assuming it was Harry carrying the baby? He found himself irrationally annoyed by it. He was just as capable as Harry of having a child - more so, in fact. He tried not to pout, but must have been unsuccessful as Harry caught his gaze and winked at him. That small gesture assuaged Draco and his annoyance faded. When Harry mouthed, ‘I love you,’ Draco actually smiled.
Taking Molly’s hands in his own, Harry kissed her cheek. “Molly, Draco’s the one who’s carrying the baby, not me.”
Molly’s surprise was patently obvious, but she recovered well, letting go of one of Harry’s hands to brush back stray hairs nervously. “Oh my goodness. I’m sorry, Draco. I had no idea…” Realising that she wasn’t making the awkwardness of the situation any better, she stopped speaking altogether.
Harry let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s fine, Molly. Everyone else has assumed the same thing.”
Molly looked at Draco kindly, and then went over and sat down next to him. “How are you feeling, dear?”
Draco tried to school his features into a neutral expression. “I’m feeling fine, thank you, Molly. No sickness, thankfully. A few cramps every now and then, but otherwise okay.”
Molly nodded. “I’m very pleased to hear it.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You look after yourself and my grandchild. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
***
Draco started showing when he entered the fourth month of his pregnancy. It was Harry who noticed it first; Draco came out of the shower one morning and wandered into the bedroom dry and naked to put on his clothes, and as Harry turned to say something, his words died in his throat as he looked at his husband’s stomach.
“You’re showing,” he said, his voice a little croaky.
“What?” Draco glanced at Harry, and then looked in the full-length, black wrought iron mirror that stood in one corner of their room. He turned sideways and ran a hand over his stomach, and found that Harry was right: there was a small but noticeable bump. “And so it begins,” he muttered under his breath, but any negative thoughts he had simply melted away when Harry came up behind him and placed a hand over his own. Draco looked at Harry’s reflection, and the beaming grin on Harry’s face was all Draco needed to see.
Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder. “We should probably release a statement to the media now, before the rumours start.”
Draco had long known that dealing with the media, however distasteful he found it, was part and parcel of being married to one of the most famous wizards ever born. Didn’t mean he had to like it, though. “I suppose so.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Harry kissed his shoulder again and dropped his hand to let Draco get dressed. “We should probably get you some loose robes, too.”
“You buying?” Draco brightened at the idea of spending Harry’s money, even though he was rich himself and they only had one vault at Gringotts.
Harry laughed. “Sure, if you want me to.”
Draco smiled, and then looked at Harry thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should think about some things for the nursery, too.”
Harry shrugged. “We can start looking now, if you want to. Whatever makes you happy, love.”
Draco grabbed Harry around the wrist and pulled him close for a quick, hard kiss. “You make me happy.”
***
Draco’s pregnancy progressed without mishap. Because he was male, he submitted to monthly tests and scans to ensure the baby was growing and healthy. Morning sickness had kicked in towards the end of the first trimester, although it wasn’t as bad as they’d expected, and thankfully brief, abating a month later. During his first trimester, Draco hadn’t been very interested in sex and Harry hadn’t wanted to take any chances, but Draco more than made up for it during his second trimester, completely wearing Harry out. Not that Harry complained much about it, because he very much enjoyed their sex life, but he was finding Draco’s constant and frequent mood swings downright scary.
In desperation, he turned to the only person he knew who would understand: Ron. They were sitting at a local haunt one lunch time, knocking back a few lagers and tucking into fish and chips.
“Yeah, Hermione was the same,” Ron said as he munched on a chip. “Didn’t want a bar of me during the first three months, then wouldn’t leave me alone during the second trimester. Some days I was barely in the door before she jumped me.”
“What about mood swings?”
Ron looked up, his surprise obvious. “Draco’s being moody?” Harry nodded. “How can you tell?”
“Smart arse.” Harry threw a chip at Ron and it connected with his head. Ron grinned. “I’m serious here.”
Ron stopped laughing and his face sobered. “That bad, huh?”
Harry sighed. “That bad. One minute he’s laughing and the next he’s sobbing his eyes out over the most trivial things.”
“Harry,” Ron said patiently. “His hormones are all fucked up. It’s not men who usually carry children, remember? It’s hard enough for a woman, and her body is built for a child. A man’s isn’t. So what he’s going through must be ten times harder.”
Every now and then, Ron amazed Harry with his wisdom and insight. He was right, of course. However hard Harry found living with Draco to be, Draco was the one suffering right now.
“You’re right. I just…”
“I know, mate,” Ron said sympathetically. “It’s not easy for either parent-to-be.” He glanced at his watch and got out his wallet. “Speaking of parents-to-be, I’d better go. Hermione frets every time I walk out the door in case she goes into labour while I’m gone.”
Hermione was eight months pregnant now, and her bag for hospital, packed with everything she’d need for the first couple of days, had already been sitting by the front door for two months.
“I should go home and see how Draco is, too.” Both men stood up and Harry pulled out some coins to pay for lunch, but Ron waved him away.
“This one’s on me. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
Harry nodded. “Thanks for the ear.”
“Anytime.” Ron embraced him briefly and then disappeared, and Harry Apparated home.
When he got there, the house was as silent as a tomb. “Draco?” When he got no answer, Harry began to panic. “Draco, where are you?” He did a search of the house, checking every room on the ground floor before taking the stairs two at a time. “Draco!”
He found his husband curled up in a ball on their bed, clutching a pillow and sobbing softly. Harry’s heart stopped beating. “Draco,” he breathed. He clambered onto the bed and laid down, facing Draco, who was now in his fifth month of pregnancy. He looked so small, so fragile. “Love, what’s wrong? Is it the--” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“The baby’s fine,” Draco said, sniffing and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robe. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Harry’s relief was so strong it almost overwhelmed him. “If nothing’s wrong,” he said, removing the pillow from Draco’s grasp and reaching out a hand to stroke his hair softly, “then why are you crying?”
“I don’t know!” Draco wailed, dissolving into a new flood of tears.
Harry moved as close as he dared, Draco’s rounded belly between them, and placed a hand over their baby. “What can I do to help, love? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
Draco took several deep breaths and managed to stem the tears. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, hiccupping. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I hate this!”
“I know,” Harry said soothingly, caressing his cheek.
“Why d-do you stay with me?” Draco asked as he wiped his eyes.
“Because I love you.” Harry’s answer was swift and resolute.
“But why?” Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Why do you love me? Why did you save me when I was such a prat to you?”
Harry was silent for a few long moments. He reached out and curled his fingers around his husband’s, and stared at his wedding ring. “I assume you’re talking about seventh year, when Crabbe used the Fiendfyre curse.” Draco nodded, and Harry continued. “I didn’t see any other option, really. I wouldn’t have let you die if I could save you.”
“You could have died getting me and Goyle,” Draco said. “All of you.”
“You know how good I am on a broomstick,” Harry said with a grin. “I didn’t think about it, really. Just did it.” He moved the hand on Draco’s belly back and forth, the feel of their child soothing. “And I love you because you grew up, Draco. You took responsibility for your actions. You became someone I found I wanted to know more of, and I fell in love with you because you’re a good man. You make me happy, more than I thought possible.” Draco sniffled and clutched Harry’s hand. “I know it’s hard for you right now, but you’re having our baby. I think you’re amazing.”
Draco stared at Harry, his grey eyes wide and his blond eyelashes tinged with tears. Harry’s quiet sincerity had gotten through and Draco realised how very lucky he was to have this man in his life. “I love you,” he said.
Harry smiled. “I know.” He leaned over and kissed him.
***
“Harry,” the voice whispered. “Harry, are you awake?”
Harry opened his eyes wearily and took in the darkness of the room. “Wha… what is it? Is something wrong?” He sat up and blinked rapidly as he tried to focus.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” Draco said, placing a hand lightly on Harry’s arm. “It’s just that… I’m hungry.”
“What?” Harry was still rousing himself out of sleep, and he glanced over at the bedside clock. “It’s three in the morning!” He groaned. This was becoming an irritatingly frequent habit.
“I know,” Draco said apologetically. “I know it’s terribly early. But I’ve been awake for ages and I’m hungry. Would you mind getting me something to eat?”
Harry opened his mouth to tell Draco to get his own bloody food, and what the hell was he thinking waking him at this time of the morning, when he remembered Draco was pregnant. And, as he was getting bigger, extremely needy.
Harry swore under his breath, then picked up his glasses and slid them on. “Okay, fine. What do you want?”
“Just some toast, that’s all.”
“Okay, Draco. Toast I can do. What do you want on your toast?”
“Hmmm,” Draco said, as though he hadn’t already been thinking about it for half an hour. “Four slices with tomatoes, avocado, pickles, cheese and…” he trailed off, and Harry was glad the room was still dark so Draco couldn’t see the grimace on his face. “Mustard, please.”
“You do realise that’s absolutely disgusting, don’t you?”
“I know, but that’s what I’m craving.”
Harry threw back the covers and got out of bed, sliding his feet into his slippers. “Anything to drink?”
“Hot chocolate. With honey. And four sugars.”
“I’ll be back soon.” He didn’t need any light to find his way to the door.
“I love you, Harry.”
“I know. Don’t go falling asleep this time.” Last time Draco had woken Harry in the wee hours of the morning for food, by the time Harry had gotten back Draco had gone back to sleep, and Harry was left with another disgusting concoction he’d thrown straight in the bin.
***
The large brown owl swooped in through the window one night late in August while Harry and Draco were in the nursery. Harry took the note from the leg the owl had proudly stuck out, and then it soared back out the window, job done.
Draco looked up from where he was perched on a stool, rubbing a hand absently over his large belly. “Who’s it from?”
Harry unrolled the piece of parchment and read it out loud, instantly recognising the familiar scrawl.
H&D,
Hermione’s gone into labour. We’re on our way to St Mungo’s now.
Ron
“You feel up to going?”
“Of course I feel up to going,” Draco snapped. “I’m pregnant, not dying.” He raised himself to his feet, ignoring the hand Harry offered him. Harry bit his tongue and tried not to snap back at Draco. He was doing his best to be patient and understanding, but it was tough sometimes.
They got to St Mungo’s with a minimum of fuss and found they were not alone. Molly and Arthur were already sitting quietly in chairs, Molly busy with her knitting and Arthur flicking through what looked like a Muggle magazine about cars. Hermione’s parents were, understandably so, more nervous; both were pacing the floor, waiting anxiously for news.
“Do sit down, dear,” Molly said to Hermione’s mother, patting the seat next to her. “Arthur and I have been through this many times before. It could be awhile before the baby makes an appearance, especially since it’s their first.”
“We’re not too late, then,” Harry said by way of greeting. All four grandparents looked up.
“Harry, Draco! So lovely to see you, dears,” Molly said, putting down her knitting. “Draco, do come sit down.” She got up and kissed them both on the cheek, and insisted Draco take her seat, even though there were a dozen others spare. Harry shook hands with Hermione’s father and kissed her mother on the cheek. He bit the inside of his mouth at the astounded expressions on the Grangers’ faces; while he knew that Hermione had told them about Draco’s pregnancy, and how the wizarding world was different to that of the Muggle world in that respect, he appreciated that being told something and actually seeing it with your own eyes were two very different things.
Arthur was pretending to be involved with his magazine, but Harry could see he, too, was trying not to laugh. Hermione’s mother, who was seated between Arthur and Draco, kept sneaking glances at Draco’s belly. Harry’s eyes met his husband’s, and he was somewhat relieved to see the twinkle in Draco’s eye.
“Must be weird for you,” Draco said to Mrs. Granger.
She turned to him, and Harry marvelled at just how much Hermione looked like her mother. He felt that he was getting a preview of Hermione in the future. “It’s not something you see every day,” she conceded. “How are you doing?”
“Having the most awful cravings and feeling as big as a giant, but otherwise fine,” Draco said cheerfully, and it was the look on Mrs. Granger’s face as the mention of a giant that had Harry turning away to laugh.
The six of them passed the time by chatting. Molly and Hermione’s mother were in the middle of swapping recipes when a weary but elated Ron stumbled into the room, a small pink bundle in his arms.
“Hi everyone,” he said, his face beaming. “Please come meet our daughter, Rose.”
***
Draco entered his final month of pregnancy happily, knowing that his ordeal would soon be over. He felt as big as Malfoy Manor; his ankles were perpetually swollen; his cravings had abated but he was still hungry all the time; he couldn’t sleep properly because he couldn’t get comfortable; and he was irrational and moody as hell. He knew Harry was reaching the end of his rope, too, but couldn’t fault his husband. Although he’d had his moments, Harry had been a saint during this pregnancy and Draco didn’t think he could have gone through it with anyone else.
After the birth of Rose Weasley, who’d become their goddaughter at Ron and Hermione’s request (something that still made Draco get teary at the thought of, then angry because he was teary), Draco had been what Hermione had laughingly called nesting. Together he and Harry had gotten the nursery ready, with pinks and blues and greens and yellows, since they’d chosen not to find out the sex of their child. Everything they could possibly need for the new arrival was safely tucked away in its place. Draco had, on Hermione’s advice, packed his bag for his hospital stay, just in case he went into labour early. The mediwitch who’d confirmed the pregnancy had agreed to deliver the child, and she’d explained how she’d do so: there were wands that had been specially made for such an occasion. They were made of ebulani, a rare, blue tree that grew in charmed earth. Each wand had the ability to neatly cut open the abdomen so the baby could be pulled out safely, and then seal up the cut made without a trace of having ever made an incision in the first place. It was very precise magic, and the cut had to be sealed within fifteen minutes of being made or the wand would be useless. Draco had been assured that he would be given a potion to numb the pain, and that there would be no after effects from the use of the wand.
Draco recognised the signs of labour, and realised it had begun one cold morning at the beginning of November. He woke Harry, who muttered, “Right, food, what’d you want?” before realising that Draco didn’t want food this time, but was ready to give birth. They got to the hospital to be greeted by Madam Romaine, who’d already been alerted by owl. Draco was helped to a private suite and made comfortable, then given the potion he’d been told about. The mediwitch ran some tests, declared everything looked good, and asked the men if they were ready to become parents.
Harry held Draco’s hand as the dark blue wand made an incision in Draco’s belly. As they’d been told, there was no pain, but it was still rather disconcerting for Harry to watch as Madam Romaine reached in. A few moments later, her hands were full of a tiny body, which was quickly cleaned by the younger mediwitch standing ready with a towel. “Congratulations, Draco and Harry. You have a son! Come on, little one, let us know you’re here,” Madam Romaine coaxed, wrapping the baby in a blanket, and suddenly the new arrival started to bawl very loudly.
Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against Draco’s, thanking anyone who was listening for the safe arrival. Draco reached out for their son as soon as his abdomen was closed, and Madam Romaine laid the tiny boy on Draco’s chest. Both men stared at the baby in awe; he was perfect. Harry leaned over and very gently kissed his head, then kissed Draco, who was running his fingers over their baby’s skin.
“He’s so soft,” Draco whispered. “Look at him, he’s perfect. Our little boy is perfect, Harry.” Harry saw the wispy dark hair that covered his head, took in his long eyelashes and delicate features.
“He has my hair,” Harry pointed out with a grin.
Draco sniffed. “He’ll have my eyes,” he said unconvincingly. He hoped the baby didn’t, because he really wanted their son to have Harry’s eyes.
“He’s beautiful,” Harry said, kissing him again.
“We just need to weigh him and run a few tests to make sure everything’s in order, then we’ll leave you alone so you can introduce him to your families,” Madam Romaine said briskly. “May I?”
Draco reluctantly handed the little boy back, but within five minutes he was cradled in Harry’s arms.
“Does he have a name?” Madam Romaine asked as she paused at the door.
Draco and Harry looked at each other, and Draco nodded. “His name is Orion Malfoy Potter,” Harry said.
Madam Romaine smiled, her face softening. “The Hunter,” she said, obviously familiar with constellations. “What a wonderful name. I’ll be back in half an hour, because Orion will need to be fed.”
“Thank you for everything, Madam Romaine,” Harry said.
“You’re welcome. See you soon.”
She closed the door behind her and Draco slumped back on the pillows. “I’m so tired,” he said, closing his eyes briefly.
“I know.” Harry leaned over very carefully and gave Draco a soft kiss on the lips.
“Why don’t you take him out to show everyone?”
Just as Ron had done three months previously, Harry took his precious bundle out into the waiting room, every inch the proud new father.
***
Harry and Draco took Orion home two days later, and they settled into life as new parents. They took turns feeding him, making sure they had plenty of bottles prepared, and both doted equally on the little boy. Harry got up most nights with him, allowing Draco to rest and recover from the pregnancy, but he must have slept through the baby’s cries the night before Christmas Eve. He woke suddenly, sitting up in bed, and found the other side empty. Grabbing his glasses and his wand, he slid out of bed. “Lumos.”
He found Draco and Orion sitting in the rocking chair next to Orion’s crib. Both were fast asleep; Draco had obviously gotten up to feed Orion, as he had an almost-empty bottle in his hand, but had fallen asleep before Orion had finished his feed. Harry went over and took the bottle out of Draco’s hand, putting it down, and then gently lifted the baby up.
“Wha-what?” Draco said suddenly, his eyes fluttering open.
“It’s okay,” Harry said. “You fell asleep while feeding him. Go back to bed, love. I’ll finish up.”
It was a testament to just how tired Draco must have been that he didn’t utter a word in protest. He simply nodded, got up, and fell into bed. Harry rocked Orion, who had snuffled at the sound and movement, and patted his back until he was rewarded with a burp. Then he laid his son carefully back in his crib, tucking him in with a kiss, and went back to bed himself. He cuddled up to Draco, who took his hand and squeezed.
“So,” Harry whispered. “When shall we give Orion a brother or sister?”
The pillow to the head he received from Draco was answer enough.
Pairing: Harry/Draco, with Ron/Hermione on the side
Rating: Light R, for adult situations and a bit of swearing
Summary: Draco conceives the baby he and Harry have longed for, but he's annoyed to find that everyone assumes Harry's the one who's pregnant.
Disclaimer: This story 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.
Notes: This was written for the mpreg fest at hd_inspired. The recipient was romaine24, so this was tailored to her wishes. My thanks to aome for the always top-notch beta. I've never written mpreg before, but I had enormous fun doing it and wouldn't say no to writing more. I've modified this slightly since it was posted for the fest. Canon compliant, with elements of the epilogue woven in where appropriate. The ebulani tree and the manner in which Draco gives birth are my own creation.
“It’s positive. Congratulations, gentlemen. You’re having a baby!” Madam Romaine held up her wand, the tip of which was currently glowing a bright blue. She smiled broadly at them both as she delivered the good news.
Harry turned to Draco and helped him up off the bed he was lying on. Pulling him to his feet, Harry wrapped his arms around the taller man and held him tight. “I love you,” he whispered in Draco’s ear, and he felt his husband’s arms go around him. When they stepped out of their embrace, they saw that the witch had gone, leaving them alone.
Harry took the opportunity to kiss Draco delightedly. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents!” Draco kissed him back, but Harry could sense that Draco’s enthusiasm was muted, and a sense of dread washed over him like the pall of a Dementor suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He pulled back so he could look at Draco properly. “Love? Is something wrong?”
When Draco didn’t answer, Harry’s dread increased tenfold and he began to panic. “Draco?” he said, swallowing painfully. “Aren’t you happy?”
Draco leaned back against the bed he’d just gotten off and swiped at his eyes. “Of course I’m happy, you idiot,” he retorted. “But I can’t believe I’m going to get fat!”
Harry was so relieved it wasn’t anything serious that he began to laugh. “Oh, Draco,” he chuckled. “You’re pregnant, love. You’re carrying our baby.” As Harry said the words out loud, they sunk in, and the two men stared at each other in wonder.
“Our baby,” Draco breathed. “We’re having a baby.” His eyes widened, and Harry whooped with pure joy before throwing his arms around Draco again. This time, the younger man’s enthusiasm couldn’t be ignored, and Draco found himself grinning. “Oh God,” he said softly. “What are we doing?”
***
Draco and Harry made the decision to only share the news with their respective families until Draco was past the first trimester. No doubt, the wizarding world’s media would descend upon them like Seekers on a Snitch once they knew that two of the most famous wizards in the world - the same two who had created a scandal by getting married - were expecting a baby, and that one of the men was carrying the baby himself. Male pregnancies were not common, but not unheard of; there had been about one thousand male pregnancies recorded throughout the entire history of the magical world. Not every male was able to carry a child, and both Harry and Draco had submitted to a barrage of tests before being advised that Draco would be able to carry a child to term, if they followed a strict series of rules and requirements.
Both men had thought long and hard about the possibility of a child, and they’d discussed it for over a year before finally deciding to go ahead and try for a baby. Their relationship was solid, having been together for seven years and married for three. They’d had their ups and downs, as did any couple, but were sure of their love for each other and confident they could give a child a happy life. Harry and Draco had also considered all of their options: surrogacy, adoption, and pregnancy, before deciding that they really wanted to try and conceive a child first. And, thanks to magic, it was possible.
Having made the decision to have a child, Harry had turned to Ron and Hermione for support and advice. Hermione had been utterly thrilled at the notion and had immediately started making lists and pulling out books that they could both read from her vast and extensive library. While his wife had been busy playing librarian, Ron had quietly talked to Harry over a Firewhisky and offered his encouragement, assuring Harry that the best part about it was trying to conceive. Harry was grateful to both of them, as he knew they’d struggled with his decision to be in a romantic relationship with Draco at the beginning; he knew they loved him and were worried he’d end up hurt. But, as was always their way, they supported him despite their misgivings and were genuinely pleased that Harry was happy, even if it was with Draco Malfoy. They were the first people he’d told about his engagement and the subsequent decision to try for a baby.
They also decided to tell their families about their decision, as they knew they could confide in them and felt it best to let them know ahead of time before springing the news about an actual pregnancy on them. Both the Malfoys and the Weasleys had expressed their delight at the news, although Harry got the impression that Lucius Malfoy was not as thrilled as he let on.
It had taken several months for Draco to conceive their child, and it was only weeks after telling his best friends about their decision that they’d had some news of their own: Hermione was expecting their first child.
It was a warm Friday night in early spring when Ron and Hermione arrived at the Potter-Malfoy household for dinner. Both Harry and Draco had decided that that Ron and Hermione should be the first to know about the new arrival, and Harry secretly hoped that Draco and Hermione would bond over their pregnancies. Hermione was four months along now and showing; she was wearing a maternity robe in the richest burgundy with a smattering of gold stars on the trim. He hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “You look wonderful,” he said. Pregnancy suited Hermione very well; she had that constant glow of an expectant mother. And it made him smile to watch Ron as he looked adoringly at his wife.
Once greetings were exchanged and the two couples caught up on their respective weeks, Harry served up one of his always delicious dinners, and everyone was quite full by the time they were finished. After dessert, they settled in the living room with cups of tea. Harry stood up near the fire, while Draco perched on the arm of a couch. Ron and Hermione seated themselves opposite.
Harry and Draco exchanged looks, and Draco nodded. “We actually have an ulterior motive for inviting you two over tonight,” Harry said as he turned to look at his best friends. For some odd reason, he’d been a little nervous about telling them, but the looks on their faces evaporated any fears he had. “We wanted to tell you something before anyone else found out.”
Ron put his drink down and sat forward, his eyes moving back and forth from Harry to Draco. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
“No, no, not at all. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Hermione’s eyes widened and she suddenly smiled, having guessed the good news.
“We’re having a baby.”
Ron’s mouth fell open, and Hermione let loose an excited shriek. She leapt off the couch and threw herself at Harry, who was thankfully used to such displays of affection and was ready for her. He held her as she babbled excitedly in his ear. Eventually disentangling herself from him, Hermione turned to Draco, pulled him to his feet, and hugged him, too. Ron took advantage of this by giving his best friend a congratulatory hug of his own. Harry was surprised that Ron seemed to be a little tentative about touching him, and the mystery of why was resolved as Ron pulled back far enough to look at him.
“How far along are you, then? How have you been feeling, any morning sickness?” His concern was genuine, and Harry immediately realised Ron’s train of thought.
Hermione looked at Harry’s face, then at Draco’s, and then put her hand on her husband’s arm. “I don’t think you’re asking the questions of the right person, love.”
Ron turned to look at her as confusion reigned. “What do you mean? I just wondered how Harry’s been since…” It was here that realisation sunk in and his voice trailed off.
“I’m four weeks now, and no morning sickness yet,” Draco said quietly, leaning back against the couch and folding his arms across his chest.
Harry could tell that Ron was surprised as hell, but the redhead hid it behind a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Draco,” he said. “I just assumed it was Harry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Weasley,” Draco said with a shrug, the rancor he’d held for the other man as a child long gone. “You won’t be the only one, I’m sure.”
Ron approached him and held out his hand. “Congratulations. I’m thrilled by your news.”
Draco studied him for a moment before accepting his hand and, to the surprise of everyone in the room, pulled him forward and clapped his back so briefly that if any of them had blinked, they’d have missed it.
Harry pulled Hermione close to him again, kissing her temple. “I should have known that if anyone would guess correctly, it would be you.”
She slid her arms around his waist. “Draco pregnant,” she murmured softly enough so only Harry could hear. “I can’t wait to see how he handles this.” Grinning widely, she raised her voice. “I have plenty of books you can look at, Draco, and would be happy to talk to you about everything.”
Harry had to fight hard to stop himself laughing out loud at the look on his husband’s face; obviously, the prospect of spending more time than he deemed necessary with Hermione didn’t exactly thrill him. But he was glad that Hermione was pregnant, because she would be a huge help down the track for Draco, being a few months ahead of him.
***
When Draco made it to twelve weeks, they decided it was time to tell their parents. The first stop was to a small graveyard behind a church in Godric’s Hollow, where the two men stood at the grave of James and Lily Potter. Harry sunk to his knees on the grass and spoke quietly; Draco stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder for support. Draco never liked coming to the graveyard because Harry was always upset afterwards, but he understood why Harry had needed to come here. Draco left a posy of flowers on the grave, a small offering of thanks to the Potters for their son.
They went straight to Malfoy Manor afterwards to have dinner with Draco’s parents. The elder Malfoys played a much quieter part in pureblood society these days, keeping their heads down. Narcissa Malfoy busied herself by making things for the manor and gifts for her family, and Draco wasn’t quite sure what his father did with his time. Lucius didn’t volunteer the information and Draco didn’t ask, although he was aware, through the Weasleys, that Lucius spent a great deal of time at the Ministry of Magic.
Narcissa greeted them both warmly with hugs and kisses, and then bade them to follow her to the formal dining room, her pale blue robes swishing after her. The family house elf served dinner, and the mood was relaxed as they ate. Lucius had been far from impressed by their son’s choice in partner at the beginning, although Narcissa hadn’t seemed too troubled, but when Draco had stood his ground and refused to give in to his father’s demands that he stop seeing Harry, Lucius relented. Over time, he came to accept that Harry Potter made their son happy, but it was still clear he didn’t particularly like it. It hadn’t been easy, and Harry still held a lot of resentment towards Lucius Malfoy, but for Draco’s sake he kept such feelings to himself and managed to be civil towards his father-in-law.
Draco ignored the flute of fine champagne that stood at his plate and asked the elf for some pumpkin juice before grasping Harry’s hand under the table. “Mother, Father, we have some good news to share with you.” Lucius and Narcissa looked at the men with interest.
“What’s that, darling?” Narcissa asked. “Oh, do tell us you’re going to make us grandparents!”
Draco smiled and nodded. “Yes, actually, we are.”
Narcissa let out a very unladylike shriek and made a beeline for Harry, throwing her arms around his neck and squashing him against her, his glasses sitting askew on his face. “Oh, Harry,” she said, stroking his hair softly. “I’m so pleased for you, darling. Have you been looking after yourself, hmmm? I know of a wonderful healer you can see to help with your morning sickness and whatnot. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.” She hoisted him up out of his chair before he could murmur a word and held him at arms length. Putting on hand on his stomach, she frowned slightly. “You haven’t put on any weight yet, but it’s early days, I know.”
Harry looked at Draco, dumbfounded, and Draco threw his serviette onto his plate, sighing exasperatedly. “For heaven’s sake, Mother,” he said in an annoyed tone. “Stop fussing! Harry’s not carrying the baby, I am.”
Narcissa froze on the spot as Lucius looked over at his son shrewdly.
“What did you say?” she gasped.
Draco glanced at his father, who raised his wine glass in silent salute, a smirk plastered across his face. Lucius had already worked it out but wasn’t going to help his son out on this one. Cursing his father mentally, he turned back to his mother and tried to be as calm as possible. “I’m carrying the baby, Mother. The healers told us Harry wouldn’t be able to carry a child, so I’m the one who’s pregnant.”
The blood drained from Narcissa’s face as she stared at Draco and clung to Harry for support. “You… you’re…” With that, she promptly fainted and, if Harry hadn’t been standing next to her to catch her, would have fallen to the floor.
“Mum!” Draco got out of his seat and hurried to her side. Lucius took in the scene and threw back his head, roaring with laughter.
It was going to be an interesting six months.
***
Two days later Harry and Draco were once again seated in front of a family, but this time it was Harry’s adopted family. The Weasleys still loved Harry like a son and had supported his choices in life, even if they didn’t agree with them. Draco had come to like Arthur Weasley well enough, but found Molly Weasley a little too smothering for his liking. But Harry loved and respected them both, so he made the effort, as Harry had done with his parents.
Harry didn’t bother to wait for dinner to share the news this time round; instead, they were all seated in the back garden of the Burrow with tall glasses of cold, homemade lemonade and enjoying the sun.
“Molly, Arthur, we have some good news we’d like to share with you both.” Harry smiled and took Draco’s hand in his. “We’re having a baby.”
Molly shrieked loudly and grabbed Arthur’s arm, making Draco wonder why on earth all the witches in his life felt the need to shriek all the bloody time, then got out of her seat to throw her arms around the man she considered one of her own. “Oh, Harry!” she said softly, tears already welling up in her eyes. “I’m so very pleased for you, love.”
“Here she goes,” Arthur Weasley said cheerfully as he reached over the small wooden table to shake Draco’s hand. “Blubs every time we find out we’re to have a new grandchild. You’d think she’d be used to it by now.”
Draco couldn’t help but feel a spurt of warmth towards the older man. It never failed to amaze Draco at just how different his life had become from how it had been when he’d been younger; as a teenager, he wouldn’t have spat on the Weasleys if they’d been on fire, but here he was at twenty-eight, sitting in their garden and actually feeling grateful to them for considering his child one of the family. He knew how much their blessing meant to Harry, and he was thankful they’d always given it so lovingly.
“I have a roomful of things to help you over the coming months, dear,” Molly said to Harry as Draco tuned back in. “Can you believe it, Arthur? We’ll have two new little ones to welcome!” Without letting her husband say a word, she turned back to Harry. “Now tell me, Harry, and do be honest, dear. How have you been feeling? Has the morning sickness been very bad? I’m sure I have a potion somewhere that will help with that.”
Draco just stared at his husband. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really, but what the hell was with everyone in the universe assuming it was Harry carrying the baby? He found himself irrationally annoyed by it. He was just as capable as Harry of having a child - more so, in fact. He tried not to pout, but must have been unsuccessful as Harry caught his gaze and winked at him. That small gesture assuaged Draco and his annoyance faded. When Harry mouthed, ‘I love you,’ Draco actually smiled.
Taking Molly’s hands in his own, Harry kissed her cheek. “Molly, Draco’s the one who’s carrying the baby, not me.”
Molly’s surprise was patently obvious, but she recovered well, letting go of one of Harry’s hands to brush back stray hairs nervously. “Oh my goodness. I’m sorry, Draco. I had no idea…” Realising that she wasn’t making the awkwardness of the situation any better, she stopped speaking altogether.
Harry let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s fine, Molly. Everyone else has assumed the same thing.”
Molly looked at Draco kindly, and then went over and sat down next to him. “How are you feeling, dear?”
Draco tried to school his features into a neutral expression. “I’m feeling fine, thank you, Molly. No sickness, thankfully. A few cramps every now and then, but otherwise okay.”
Molly nodded. “I’m very pleased to hear it.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You look after yourself and my grandchild. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
***
Draco started showing when he entered the fourth month of his pregnancy. It was Harry who noticed it first; Draco came out of the shower one morning and wandered into the bedroom dry and naked to put on his clothes, and as Harry turned to say something, his words died in his throat as he looked at his husband’s stomach.
“You’re showing,” he said, his voice a little croaky.
“What?” Draco glanced at Harry, and then looked in the full-length, black wrought iron mirror that stood in one corner of their room. He turned sideways and ran a hand over his stomach, and found that Harry was right: there was a small but noticeable bump. “And so it begins,” he muttered under his breath, but any negative thoughts he had simply melted away when Harry came up behind him and placed a hand over his own. Draco looked at Harry’s reflection, and the beaming grin on Harry’s face was all Draco needed to see.
Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder. “We should probably release a statement to the media now, before the rumours start.”
Draco had long known that dealing with the media, however distasteful he found it, was part and parcel of being married to one of the most famous wizards ever born. Didn’t mean he had to like it, though. “I suppose so.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Harry kissed his shoulder again and dropped his hand to let Draco get dressed. “We should probably get you some loose robes, too.”
“You buying?” Draco brightened at the idea of spending Harry’s money, even though he was rich himself and they only had one vault at Gringotts.
Harry laughed. “Sure, if you want me to.”
Draco smiled, and then looked at Harry thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should think about some things for the nursery, too.”
Harry shrugged. “We can start looking now, if you want to. Whatever makes you happy, love.”
Draco grabbed Harry around the wrist and pulled him close for a quick, hard kiss. “You make me happy.”
***
Draco’s pregnancy progressed without mishap. Because he was male, he submitted to monthly tests and scans to ensure the baby was growing and healthy. Morning sickness had kicked in towards the end of the first trimester, although it wasn’t as bad as they’d expected, and thankfully brief, abating a month later. During his first trimester, Draco hadn’t been very interested in sex and Harry hadn’t wanted to take any chances, but Draco more than made up for it during his second trimester, completely wearing Harry out. Not that Harry complained much about it, because he very much enjoyed their sex life, but he was finding Draco’s constant and frequent mood swings downright scary.
In desperation, he turned to the only person he knew who would understand: Ron. They were sitting at a local haunt one lunch time, knocking back a few lagers and tucking into fish and chips.
“Yeah, Hermione was the same,” Ron said as he munched on a chip. “Didn’t want a bar of me during the first three months, then wouldn’t leave me alone during the second trimester. Some days I was barely in the door before she jumped me.”
“What about mood swings?”
Ron looked up, his surprise obvious. “Draco’s being moody?” Harry nodded. “How can you tell?”
“Smart arse.” Harry threw a chip at Ron and it connected with his head. Ron grinned. “I’m serious here.”
Ron stopped laughing and his face sobered. “That bad, huh?”
Harry sighed. “That bad. One minute he’s laughing and the next he’s sobbing his eyes out over the most trivial things.”
“Harry,” Ron said patiently. “His hormones are all fucked up. It’s not men who usually carry children, remember? It’s hard enough for a woman, and her body is built for a child. A man’s isn’t. So what he’s going through must be ten times harder.”
Every now and then, Ron amazed Harry with his wisdom and insight. He was right, of course. However hard Harry found living with Draco to be, Draco was the one suffering right now.
“You’re right. I just…”
“I know, mate,” Ron said sympathetically. “It’s not easy for either parent-to-be.” He glanced at his watch and got out his wallet. “Speaking of parents-to-be, I’d better go. Hermione frets every time I walk out the door in case she goes into labour while I’m gone.”
Hermione was eight months pregnant now, and her bag for hospital, packed with everything she’d need for the first couple of days, had already been sitting by the front door for two months.
“I should go home and see how Draco is, too.” Both men stood up and Harry pulled out some coins to pay for lunch, but Ron waved him away.
“This one’s on me. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
Harry nodded. “Thanks for the ear.”
“Anytime.” Ron embraced him briefly and then disappeared, and Harry Apparated home.
When he got there, the house was as silent as a tomb. “Draco?” When he got no answer, Harry began to panic. “Draco, where are you?” He did a search of the house, checking every room on the ground floor before taking the stairs two at a time. “Draco!”
He found his husband curled up in a ball on their bed, clutching a pillow and sobbing softly. Harry’s heart stopped beating. “Draco,” he breathed. He clambered onto the bed and laid down, facing Draco, who was now in his fifth month of pregnancy. He looked so small, so fragile. “Love, what’s wrong? Is it the--” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“The baby’s fine,” Draco said, sniffing and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robe. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Harry’s relief was so strong it almost overwhelmed him. “If nothing’s wrong,” he said, removing the pillow from Draco’s grasp and reaching out a hand to stroke his hair softly, “then why are you crying?”
“I don’t know!” Draco wailed, dissolving into a new flood of tears.
Harry moved as close as he dared, Draco’s rounded belly between them, and placed a hand over their baby. “What can I do to help, love? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
Draco took several deep breaths and managed to stem the tears. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, hiccupping. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I hate this!”
“I know,” Harry said soothingly, caressing his cheek.
“Why d-do you stay with me?” Draco asked as he wiped his eyes.
“Because I love you.” Harry’s answer was swift and resolute.
“But why?” Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Why do you love me? Why did you save me when I was such a prat to you?”
Harry was silent for a few long moments. He reached out and curled his fingers around his husband’s, and stared at his wedding ring. “I assume you’re talking about seventh year, when Crabbe used the Fiendfyre curse.” Draco nodded, and Harry continued. “I didn’t see any other option, really. I wouldn’t have let you die if I could save you.”
“You could have died getting me and Goyle,” Draco said. “All of you.”
“You know how good I am on a broomstick,” Harry said with a grin. “I didn’t think about it, really. Just did it.” He moved the hand on Draco’s belly back and forth, the feel of their child soothing. “And I love you because you grew up, Draco. You took responsibility for your actions. You became someone I found I wanted to know more of, and I fell in love with you because you’re a good man. You make me happy, more than I thought possible.” Draco sniffled and clutched Harry’s hand. “I know it’s hard for you right now, but you’re having our baby. I think you’re amazing.”
Draco stared at Harry, his grey eyes wide and his blond eyelashes tinged with tears. Harry’s quiet sincerity had gotten through and Draco realised how very lucky he was to have this man in his life. “I love you,” he said.
Harry smiled. “I know.” He leaned over and kissed him.
***
“Harry,” the voice whispered. “Harry, are you awake?”
Harry opened his eyes wearily and took in the darkness of the room. “Wha… what is it? Is something wrong?” He sat up and blinked rapidly as he tried to focus.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” Draco said, placing a hand lightly on Harry’s arm. “It’s just that… I’m hungry.”
“What?” Harry was still rousing himself out of sleep, and he glanced over at the bedside clock. “It’s three in the morning!” He groaned. This was becoming an irritatingly frequent habit.
“I know,” Draco said apologetically. “I know it’s terribly early. But I’ve been awake for ages and I’m hungry. Would you mind getting me something to eat?”
Harry opened his mouth to tell Draco to get his own bloody food, and what the hell was he thinking waking him at this time of the morning, when he remembered Draco was pregnant. And, as he was getting bigger, extremely needy.
Harry swore under his breath, then picked up his glasses and slid them on. “Okay, fine. What do you want?”
“Just some toast, that’s all.”
“Okay, Draco. Toast I can do. What do you want on your toast?”
“Hmmm,” Draco said, as though he hadn’t already been thinking about it for half an hour. “Four slices with tomatoes, avocado, pickles, cheese and…” he trailed off, and Harry was glad the room was still dark so Draco couldn’t see the grimace on his face. “Mustard, please.”
“You do realise that’s absolutely disgusting, don’t you?”
“I know, but that’s what I’m craving.”
Harry threw back the covers and got out of bed, sliding his feet into his slippers. “Anything to drink?”
“Hot chocolate. With honey. And four sugars.”
“I’ll be back soon.” He didn’t need any light to find his way to the door.
“I love you, Harry.”
“I know. Don’t go falling asleep this time.” Last time Draco had woken Harry in the wee hours of the morning for food, by the time Harry had gotten back Draco had gone back to sleep, and Harry was left with another disgusting concoction he’d thrown straight in the bin.
***
The large brown owl swooped in through the window one night late in August while Harry and Draco were in the nursery. Harry took the note from the leg the owl had proudly stuck out, and then it soared back out the window, job done.
Draco looked up from where he was perched on a stool, rubbing a hand absently over his large belly. “Who’s it from?”
Harry unrolled the piece of parchment and read it out loud, instantly recognising the familiar scrawl.
H&D,
Hermione’s gone into labour. We’re on our way to St Mungo’s now.
Ron
“You feel up to going?”
“Of course I feel up to going,” Draco snapped. “I’m pregnant, not dying.” He raised himself to his feet, ignoring the hand Harry offered him. Harry bit his tongue and tried not to snap back at Draco. He was doing his best to be patient and understanding, but it was tough sometimes.
They got to St Mungo’s with a minimum of fuss and found they were not alone. Molly and Arthur were already sitting quietly in chairs, Molly busy with her knitting and Arthur flicking through what looked like a Muggle magazine about cars. Hermione’s parents were, understandably so, more nervous; both were pacing the floor, waiting anxiously for news.
“Do sit down, dear,” Molly said to Hermione’s mother, patting the seat next to her. “Arthur and I have been through this many times before. It could be awhile before the baby makes an appearance, especially since it’s their first.”
“We’re not too late, then,” Harry said by way of greeting. All four grandparents looked up.
“Harry, Draco! So lovely to see you, dears,” Molly said, putting down her knitting. “Draco, do come sit down.” She got up and kissed them both on the cheek, and insisted Draco take her seat, even though there were a dozen others spare. Harry shook hands with Hermione’s father and kissed her mother on the cheek. He bit the inside of his mouth at the astounded expressions on the Grangers’ faces; while he knew that Hermione had told them about Draco’s pregnancy, and how the wizarding world was different to that of the Muggle world in that respect, he appreciated that being told something and actually seeing it with your own eyes were two very different things.
Arthur was pretending to be involved with his magazine, but Harry could see he, too, was trying not to laugh. Hermione’s mother, who was seated between Arthur and Draco, kept sneaking glances at Draco’s belly. Harry’s eyes met his husband’s, and he was somewhat relieved to see the twinkle in Draco’s eye.
“Must be weird for you,” Draco said to Mrs. Granger.
She turned to him, and Harry marvelled at just how much Hermione looked like her mother. He felt that he was getting a preview of Hermione in the future. “It’s not something you see every day,” she conceded. “How are you doing?”
“Having the most awful cravings and feeling as big as a giant, but otherwise fine,” Draco said cheerfully, and it was the look on Mrs. Granger’s face as the mention of a giant that had Harry turning away to laugh.
The six of them passed the time by chatting. Molly and Hermione’s mother were in the middle of swapping recipes when a weary but elated Ron stumbled into the room, a small pink bundle in his arms.
“Hi everyone,” he said, his face beaming. “Please come meet our daughter, Rose.”
***
Draco entered his final month of pregnancy happily, knowing that his ordeal would soon be over. He felt as big as Malfoy Manor; his ankles were perpetually swollen; his cravings had abated but he was still hungry all the time; he couldn’t sleep properly because he couldn’t get comfortable; and he was irrational and moody as hell. He knew Harry was reaching the end of his rope, too, but couldn’t fault his husband. Although he’d had his moments, Harry had been a saint during this pregnancy and Draco didn’t think he could have gone through it with anyone else.
After the birth of Rose Weasley, who’d become their goddaughter at Ron and Hermione’s request (something that still made Draco get teary at the thought of, then angry because he was teary), Draco had been what Hermione had laughingly called nesting. Together he and Harry had gotten the nursery ready, with pinks and blues and greens and yellows, since they’d chosen not to find out the sex of their child. Everything they could possibly need for the new arrival was safely tucked away in its place. Draco had, on Hermione’s advice, packed his bag for his hospital stay, just in case he went into labour early. The mediwitch who’d confirmed the pregnancy had agreed to deliver the child, and she’d explained how she’d do so: there were wands that had been specially made for such an occasion. They were made of ebulani, a rare, blue tree that grew in charmed earth. Each wand had the ability to neatly cut open the abdomen so the baby could be pulled out safely, and then seal up the cut made without a trace of having ever made an incision in the first place. It was very precise magic, and the cut had to be sealed within fifteen minutes of being made or the wand would be useless. Draco had been assured that he would be given a potion to numb the pain, and that there would be no after effects from the use of the wand.
Draco recognised the signs of labour, and realised it had begun one cold morning at the beginning of November. He woke Harry, who muttered, “Right, food, what’d you want?” before realising that Draco didn’t want food this time, but was ready to give birth. They got to the hospital to be greeted by Madam Romaine, who’d already been alerted by owl. Draco was helped to a private suite and made comfortable, then given the potion he’d been told about. The mediwitch ran some tests, declared everything looked good, and asked the men if they were ready to become parents.
Harry held Draco’s hand as the dark blue wand made an incision in Draco’s belly. As they’d been told, there was no pain, but it was still rather disconcerting for Harry to watch as Madam Romaine reached in. A few moments later, her hands were full of a tiny body, which was quickly cleaned by the younger mediwitch standing ready with a towel. “Congratulations, Draco and Harry. You have a son! Come on, little one, let us know you’re here,” Madam Romaine coaxed, wrapping the baby in a blanket, and suddenly the new arrival started to bawl very loudly.
Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against Draco’s, thanking anyone who was listening for the safe arrival. Draco reached out for their son as soon as his abdomen was closed, and Madam Romaine laid the tiny boy on Draco’s chest. Both men stared at the baby in awe; he was perfect. Harry leaned over and very gently kissed his head, then kissed Draco, who was running his fingers over their baby’s skin.
“He’s so soft,” Draco whispered. “Look at him, he’s perfect. Our little boy is perfect, Harry.” Harry saw the wispy dark hair that covered his head, took in his long eyelashes and delicate features.
“He has my hair,” Harry pointed out with a grin.
Draco sniffed. “He’ll have my eyes,” he said unconvincingly. He hoped the baby didn’t, because he really wanted their son to have Harry’s eyes.
“He’s beautiful,” Harry said, kissing him again.
“We just need to weigh him and run a few tests to make sure everything’s in order, then we’ll leave you alone so you can introduce him to your families,” Madam Romaine said briskly. “May I?”
Draco reluctantly handed the little boy back, but within five minutes he was cradled in Harry’s arms.
“Does he have a name?” Madam Romaine asked as she paused at the door.
Draco and Harry looked at each other, and Draco nodded. “His name is Orion Malfoy Potter,” Harry said.
Madam Romaine smiled, her face softening. “The Hunter,” she said, obviously familiar with constellations. “What a wonderful name. I’ll be back in half an hour, because Orion will need to be fed.”
“Thank you for everything, Madam Romaine,” Harry said.
“You’re welcome. See you soon.”
She closed the door behind her and Draco slumped back on the pillows. “I’m so tired,” he said, closing his eyes briefly.
“I know.” Harry leaned over very carefully and gave Draco a soft kiss on the lips.
“Why don’t you take him out to show everyone?”
Just as Ron had done three months previously, Harry took his precious bundle out into the waiting room, every inch the proud new father.
***
Harry and Draco took Orion home two days later, and they settled into life as new parents. They took turns feeding him, making sure they had plenty of bottles prepared, and both doted equally on the little boy. Harry got up most nights with him, allowing Draco to rest and recover from the pregnancy, but he must have slept through the baby’s cries the night before Christmas Eve. He woke suddenly, sitting up in bed, and found the other side empty. Grabbing his glasses and his wand, he slid out of bed. “Lumos.”
He found Draco and Orion sitting in the rocking chair next to Orion’s crib. Both were fast asleep; Draco had obviously gotten up to feed Orion, as he had an almost-empty bottle in his hand, but had fallen asleep before Orion had finished his feed. Harry went over and took the bottle out of Draco’s hand, putting it down, and then gently lifted the baby up.
“Wha-what?” Draco said suddenly, his eyes fluttering open.
“It’s okay,” Harry said. “You fell asleep while feeding him. Go back to bed, love. I’ll finish up.”
It was a testament to just how tired Draco must have been that he didn’t utter a word in protest. He simply nodded, got up, and fell into bed. Harry rocked Orion, who had snuffled at the sound and movement, and patted his back until he was rewarded with a burp. Then he laid his son carefully back in his crib, tucking him in with a kiss, and went back to bed himself. He cuddled up to Draco, who took his hand and squeezed.
“So,” Harry whispered. “When shall we give Orion a brother or sister?”
The pillow to the head he received from Draco was answer enough.