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Expecting the Unexpected	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21915 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its indicia are © JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. I own none of the copyright, and this fanfiction makes no money.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter Ten: Out

January was whizzing past in a blur of essays, practice exams, and assignments. The library was fuller for longer each evening now, and Harry was finding he woke up almost as tired as he was when he went to bed. Before he knew it, it had been two weeks since he’d returned to Hogwarts. Yet the hushed whispers and pairs of eyes still followed him wherever he went. Harry noticed too that the same whisperers were also following Ginny, who was just about as pleased of the attention as Harry himself was.

Draco was in the library, working on an Arithmancy assignment with Hermione of all people (they still weren’t exactly friends, but each accepted that the other was their equal in terms of academic achievement and they worked well together) and Harry had re-read the chapter in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven three times and was still unable to accurately describe exactly how the Fidelius Charm was performed. He downed his book and pulled out the journal he was writing to the baby in instead. Balancing the open journal on his now sizeable bump, he dipped a quill in the ink pot on his bedside table, and began to write.

Wednesday 20^th January 1999. I am 22 weeks pregnant

Hello, baby,

I’ve not written for a week or two, have I? I’m sorry. It’s been hectic since I got back to Hogwarts a fortnight ago! So, 22 weeks, huh? We’re over halfway! I can’t believe it. Well, I can’t until I look down and realise I can no longer see my feet, anyway! My respect for any woman who does this more than once is extremely high. I officially have 18 weeks until my ‘due date’ but they say they’ll take me in around mid-May to deliver you, so realistically I have about 16 or 17 weeks left. I’m so excited!

You’re moving loads and loads now. I’ve even begun to feel you hiccoughing. And when you move my tummy wobbles and slides from side to side. It really freaks Ron out, which makes Daddy Draco laugh.

Your other daddy is brilliant, and I’m completely smitten with him. If someone had told me this time last year I’d have said that, I’d have had them carted off to the Janus Thickey ward. Then again, this time last year I didn’t think I’d live to see now. And not only am I alive, but I have you, and my friends, and your daddy. I’m so happy, little one.

The only problem seems to be your daddy’s father (I will not write ‘your grandfather’; he has no right to such an honour) who seems quite determined to make sure Daddy and me won’t be a family. He’s being quiet since the whole Boxing Day thing, but he’s as Slytherin as they come; he’ll be planning something. Don’t worry though; we won’t let Lucius tear us apart.

Oh, you know how I’m convinced you’re a girl and Draco’s convinced you’re a boy? We’ve made a bet on it. But instead of the winner getting Galleons neither of us need, we’ve come up with something far better. The winner gets to name you. It’s a bit of a risk, but, as my wonderful godfather told me once, ‘what’s life without a little risk’?

Well, I have work to do, so I’d better leave this for now. I’ll write to you again soon,

Love from Daddy xx

*

“Potter, can I speak with you and Mister Malfoy in my office after breakfast before you go and see your Healer?” McGonagall asked the following Saturday, as Harry helped himself to toast and cereal. The tone of her voice was always authoritative to the point of scary, and Harry gulped. He shot her a worried glance and she sighed. “No need to look so panicked, Potter. I’m fully aware you’re sharing a room with Draco and, whilst I won’t deny I wish you’d asked for my permission, I happen to agree with you that it’s a good idea. There is just an important issue I need to discuss with you both, that’s all.” He agreed and watched her head to the Slytherin table to speak with Draco.

Harry finished his toast and cornflakes and, once Draco had finished eating, the pair quickly made their way to the Headmistress’ Office, discussing hurriedly what it could be about. They climbed the spiral stairs and Draco knocked.

“Enter!” a stern voice commanded from inside, and Harry opened the door. Sat at the desk was Professor McGonagall, but also an ancient- looking tiny witch in purple robes, whom Harry recognised as the woman who had examined him when he had taken his O.W.L.S.

“Harry, Draco, this is Madam Marchbanks,” McGonagall said. “She’s come to discuss a matter of importance regarding your N.E.W.T examinations with you both.” Harry looked at her with slight confusion as Draco did the same, and McGonagall shot them both an impatient look.

“Boys, your baby will be born no later than the end of May. This means the two of you will be adjusting to life with a newborn baby and little sleep once the examination period begins. There is no way either of you can be expected to achieve the good grades you’re both predicted whilst you’re caring for a new baby, not to mention the problems of childcare whilst you’re both sitting exams.”

Harry felt his stomach drop. Of course he’d realised that the baby would be born by the time NE.W.T.S began, but for some reason he’d never seen it as a problem. What did I think I was going to do? Pitch up with the baby in a sling and run a practical Defence exam, after having been up all night, he thought wryly.

“So what do you propose, Professor?” said Draco calmly, who was staring at Griselda Marchbanks and had obviously put two and two together a lot quicker than Harry had regarding her presence.

“You will both sit a specially-adapted course of examinations in April,” Madam Marchbanks squeaked. “This does on very rare occasions happen, and the Ministry considers your highly unusual situation to be extenuating circumstances enough. I will personally oversee the examinations. They will lead to full N.E.W.T qualifications, just as they would, had you taken them with your peers the following month.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, relieved, but Draco was still frowning, apparently having worked something out that Harry had missed. Harry then noticed that McGonagall looked uncomfortable.

“And can Harry and I remain at Hogwarts afterwards, even though we’d have finished our education?” Draco asked, slightly accusing, Harry thought, and McGonagall flushed ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, but once you’ve finished your exams, I would like you both to consider formally leaving the school,” she said.

“You’re kicking us out?” Harry yelled. He felt Draco’s hand on his shoulder and the touch was so familiar and comforting it calmed him down. The gesture wasn’t missed by Professor McGonagall, who flashed them both a most-knowing look with her eyes.

“I’m not ‘kicking you out’, Potter,” she said, “but once you’ve sat your exams you will no longer be attending lessons and your education here will be complete. Plus your baby’s birth will be imminent. A school is no place for an infant. You will have lodgings here until the end of the school year, if you require them, but I am suggesting that it would perhaps be sensible to have a conversation with Mister Malfoy about living arrangements beyond Hogwarts sooner rather than later.”

Twenty minutes later and Harry was feeling rather upset and angry as they made their way to the Hospital Wing for his check-up. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat had the desired effect of cheering him up, however, and half an hour later- with both dad and baby proclaimed ‘perfect’ by Healer Moore, he and Draco left the ward and made their way to the entrance hall to meet Ron and Hermione in Hogsmeade as arranged.

“McGonagall’s right, isn’t she?” Harry said reluctantly. “We can’t very well bring the baby back here after she’s born. For one thing we’d never fit a cot in our room, let alone the rest of the baby’s stuff.”

“You’ve got a house, haven’t you?” Draco asked, as they made the walk to the village, clearly ignoring Harry’s use of ‘she’. They tended to ignore each other’s referrals to the baby’s sex now, rather than get into a silly squabble over it. There was a thick layer of snow and ice on the ground, and Harry was walking incredibly tentatively, feeling very off-balance with the bump; not to mention the fact that being unable to see his feet properly was disconcerting him.

“Yeah,” he replied, not taking his eyes from the ground, as if staring at it would ensure he remained on his feet, “but there’s no way we can live there. It’s not fit for a baby- there’s mould and stuff everywhere. It’ll need months of work just to make it habitable.”

“Fuck,” Draco said. “Well, we’re definitely not going to the Manor. Andromeda will take us in, I guess.”

“We can’t move in there,” Harry said. “For one thing, she doesn’t need another baby screaming all night. And for another, I don’t like the idea of being so far away from my friends when I can’t travel magically.”

It wouldn’t be for several hours that Harry would realise, throughout their talk about living arrangements, they’d each used the pronouns ‘we’ and ‘our’ and ‘us’ without question. Neither had once considered the possibility of living apart from the other.

It was walking to the Hog’s Head (Draco still unwelcome in the Three Broomsticks for obvious reasons) that Harry had an idea.

“Hey, Draco! Why don’t we just get a small place here?”

“Live in Hogsmeade, you mean?” Draco replied, sceptically. He looked far from thinking it was a good idea.

“Why not? It’s close to the school, and there’s no way I’m living somewhere where I’ll have to Floo or Portkey just to see my friends or to come up for the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. It can just be temporary, if you like.”

They reached the Hog’s Head. Ron and Hermione were sat next to each other in a booth, the other side of the table left free for Harry and Draco. As expected, every pair of eyes in the pub turned and stared at Harry- and not just Harry, but an obviously pregnant Harry who had a known Death Eater in tow. Harry sighed and knew the rumours would be starting any second. Hermione rolled her eyes and cast Muffliato to give them some privacy as Harry and Draco slid into the booth. Harry noticed that the gap between himself and the smooth, solid oak was much smaller than it had been the last time he sat here. He figured that by next Hogsmeade weekend it would be a rather tight fit.

Ron took drinks orders and disappeared to the bar. He returned with a tray of drinks levitating in front of him, and Harry took his goblet of hot apple drink and drank gratefully, closing his eyes in pleasure as the heated fruity juice and cinnamon warmed him from head to toe.

“Are you alright, Harry? You look agitated. What did Professor McGonagall want?” Hermione said. Harry sighed and relayed the meeting with the Headmistress to his friends. Hermione looked more horrified at the idea of the early exams than she did at Harry leaving the castle.

“But- but April is only ten weeks away!” she squealed, looking worried. She opened her mouth to say something else exam-related, but obviously noticed the look on her companions’ faces and closed it again.

The afternoon passed happily, and Harry enjoyed spending time away from the castle with his friends very much. After the Hog’s Head they all did a bit of shopping; Draco needed to visit the apothecary’s, whilst Hermione needed parchment and ink, and Ron wanted to pop into the Hogsmeade branch of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes (Hermione muttering something about ‘childish boys never growing up’ all the time). They then passed a shop selling baby equipment, and Harry had a quick look in the window. It was hard to imagine that in less than four months he would have a small person of his own to take care of that would require half of the shop display. McGonagall was right. They’d have to move out of Hogwarts.

They returned to school freezing cold, wet from the recent fallen snow, and starving, yet happy. Harry wolfed his dinner- a hearty beef casserole and suet dumplings followed by rhubarb crumble and custard- and returned to his room as soon as Draco had finished eating. He collapsed onto the bed, feeling tired from the day, and overly full from the delicious food. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

“OK, we’ll do it,” he heard Draco say, and he sleepily opened his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Hogsmeade. We’ll move there.” Draco was grinning at him. “Weasley and Granger mean an awful lot to you, and if having them nearby makes you happy, then I’m happy. So let’s do it. We’ll find a little cottage or something.”

Harry’s resulting smile must have been huge, he thought, as it was straining his mouth. “You sure?”

“No, I just felt like royally pissing you off tonight by lying,” Draco drawled.

“Come here,” Harry said, practically pulling Draco on top of him (but not properly because of the baby), and kissing him soundly. “Thank you.”

*

The remainder of January passed, and February arrived. There was no let-up in the harsh, freezing weather, however; if anything, Harry thought, it had gotten worse. For the first time since he’d found out he wouldn’t be able to play Quidditch for the foreseeable future, Harry didn’t feel jealous of the Gryffindor team as they took on Hufflepuff the weekend before Valentine’s Day. Despite an easy win for Gryffindor, the team trudged off the pitch looking dishevelled and frozen; Ron was muttering something about ‘hot showers’, whilst Demelza Robins had to fed a large dose Pepperup Potion due to her uncontrollable and violent shivering.

Things came to a head regarding the rumours surrounding Harry and Ginny a couple of days later. When the pair arrived for dinner together- and late at that (they’d been innocently talking in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry had been visiting, and lost track of time), the chatter in the Great Hall ceased immediately. People began poking their neighbours and pointing, and every pair of eyes bar Draco and Harry’s friends fixed on them for a few seconds, before whispered gossip broke out amongst the house tables.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ginny cursed. “I’ve had enough of this.” She strode over to Neville, grabbed him by his tie and yanked him up (Harry caught Draco smirking at that and thought he saw him mouth, “Henpecked”), before crushing her mouth violently to his. Harry stared on, highly amused, as Neville flushed scarlet and he stood as rigid as if someone had just cast a Full Body-Bind Curse on him, before he relaxed and began to respond to Ginny enthusiastically. Ginny eventually broke this kiss, looking determined and slightly flushed.

“Enough proof for you all that Harry and I aren’t together?” she called to the Hall loudly, before sitting down, dolloping a portion of lasagne onto her plate and grabbing a slice of garlic bread, acting for all intents and purposes as if she hadn’t just been snogging her boyfriend to within an inch of his life with every pair of eyes in the school watching her.

“I almost admire Ginevra,” Draco said that night, once he and Harry were in bed. “She certainly knows how to cause a scene.”

“Hmm,” Harry said sleepily into Draco’s chest. If he was honest with himself, he was a little jealous of the ease in which Ginny had publicly shown her feelings for Neville. Harry had had enough of hiding his relationship with Draco, despite the fact it was he who was initially desperate to keep it quiet. He was proud of his relationship- if anyone had a problem with the fact he was seeing another boy- one that just happened to be a Malfoy- well, they could go fuck themselves. He’d spoken up for Draco months ago now- he’d told the whole wizarding world that Draco was not a killer, and that he’d saved Harry’s life. That was the end of the matter, as far as Harry was concerned.

Coming out was something he’d been thinking about for a few weeks now. He knew he was in love with Draco, and was pretty sure Draco was in love with him too; not that either of them had said it yet. In an ideal world he wouldn’t have to ‘come out’ to anyone except his closest friends and family; but he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and to think it would be possible to keep his private life, well, private for any length of time would be incredibly naïve of him. It was just a matter of time before some sodding journalist caught wind of the relationship, especially as Ginny had made it clear she and Harry weren’t together. And Harry wanted his ‘outing’ to be on his terms, rather than the Prophet or some other rag catching them in some sort of clinch and posting it on the front page, accompanied by a bunch of lies.

“How would you feel about telling people? About us, I mean?” he said to Draco, tracing a pattern onto Draco’s bare chest with a finger, making Draco squirm and his skin break out in goose pimples.

“Are you sure you want everyone to know? You’re not ashamed of me?” Draco asked. Harry sat up, so he could look Draco in the eye, and took either side of his face in his hands.

“Don’t ever think that. Merlin, Draco, no, I’m not ashamed! I-” love you, go on, just say it- “I want to be with you so much, and I’m not going to hide you away like some dirty little secret. If I want to hold your hand in the street then I’m bloody well going to. So, what do you say? Want to come out with me?”

Draco stared at him for a few more seconds before his face split into a wide, sincere grin. It made him look so open and vulnerable, and Harry was quite certain that the only two people who ever saw him like this were himself and Narcissa. It made his stomach flip and he leaned in for a kiss.

“So, you really want to do it?” Draco said as he absently stroked a hand over Harry’s arse, then in response to Harry’s slightly widening eyes, chuckled lightly and said, “The coming out, you dick.”

Harry felt himself relaxing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have full sex with Draco. Very much on the contrary in fact- the idea of it left him aching with desire at times. No- as loath as he was to admit it to himself, Harry was scared of the idea. Scared of hurting Draco, or doing it wrong, or Draco doing it to him and it hurting the baby or something. And it wasn’t as if what they did do wasn’t fantastic. He gave a small, relieved grin.

“I was thinking. Would you come out for dinner with me on Saturday in Hogsmeade? As my date? We could go and look at a couple of houses together first, and then go out to eat. It won’t take long for word to get out that we’re house-hunting together.”

“Some bastard from the newspaper will probably turn up,” Draco replied.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, “but the press is never going to leave me alone. The article with me and Ginny proved that. If we give them a statement, at least we get to control what is published, rather than some bollocks along the line of what they published over Christmas, which they will publish sooner rather than later, especially once it’s obvious we’re living together and the baby’s born. I’d rather not have to do this at all, but considering everyone in our world seems to think they own a part of me and that my life is public property, and that’s not about to change anytime soon, this is the lesser of two evils. It beats them making up some crap about us. And I will not act like I’m ashamed to be with you, because I’m not.”

“Then let’s do it,” Draco said, and Harry could hear the delight mingled with relief in his voice. He snuggled tightly into Draco’s arms once more and drifted off to sleep, warm and comfortable and wanted. It was a wonderful combination.

*

The day before the planned Hogsmeade weekend brought letters from some members of the Weasley family. Harry had written to them, explaining his relationship and his plans (the last thing he wanted was Molly Weasley finding out about him and Draco from the Prophet). The letter from Ron’s parents had been very kind and accepting- they expressed their shock, but offered Harry their unconditional support. Molly had signed it with ‘lots of love to you and my grandchild’, as she did every letter she’d sent him for the last few months, which told Harry that even though the news about him and Draco had been a bit of a bombshell, he would always be welcome at The Burrow, and that Molly and Arthur would always be there for him.

Harry opened the letter George sent him- surprisingly heavier than the others- and felt his cheeks instantly begin to burn. He quickly cast a privacy ward around him and his friends.

“What?” Ginny said curiously through a mouthful of bacon, and reached over and grabbed the envelope out of Harry’s hand. She peered inside and screeched with laughter, then withdrew a sheet of parchment on which Harry recognised George’s messy scrawl. “’Harry, mate’,” she read with undisguised glee in a poor imitation of George’s voice, “’heard about you and the Ferret. Thought the following would be useful’.” She slid a thin book out of the envelope entitled Bend Over! The Complete Guide to Anal Sex for Men.

Ron made a small sound of complete misery, whilst Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. Harry wanted to hide under the table. He didn’t dare look at Draco at the Slytherin table, who had been talking animatedly with Blaise Zabini the last time he’d stared over, for fear he might just combust from humiliation.

“Your brother is a bastard,” he said.

“No, I’m quite sure Mum and Dad were married when he and Fred were born,” Ginny replied merrily. Harry snatched the book from her hands and threw it into his school bag. He removed the ward and chanced a glance at Draco. He’d clearly noticed the ward’s presence and was giving Harry an odd look. Harry mouthed ‘later’ at him, flung his bag over his shoulder, and headed off for Herbology. The day was so packed that he didn’t give the book a second thought all day.

Later that evening, however, he was alone in his and Draco’s room, meaning to make a start on his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay (‘Explain in your own words why chocolate is an effective remedy after exposure to Dementors’) when he accidentally pulled out the book George had sent him instead of his textbook. Harry hesitated for just a second before discarding the essay (on which he’d managed to write ‘Harry Potter’ and the date and nothing more) and began to read. Draco was in the library with Hermione translating a paragraph in some ancient tome from runes into English and would be ages. He had plenty of time.

Forty minutes later, Harry was as hard as a rock, clammy and, had he cared to look in a mirror, would have seen he was bright red both from embarrassment and arousal. He had to admit to himself now that he was more than simply ‘Draco-sexual’; he was definitely attracted to the men in the (extremely graphic) images on the pages. He also thought he had an idea of what he was supposed to do, when the time came. Harry drew his wand, Transfigured the cover of the book into an old Charms textbook, stuffed it into the bottom of his bag, and headed for the shower, where he treated himself to a leisurely-paced wank before washing quickly. He’d only been out of the shower five minutes when Draco returned.

“Are you still wanting to go through with it tomorrow?” he asked nervously, as he began to pull of his school robes.

“Definitely,” Harry said. “Never been surer.” He sat and entertained himself for a few minutes watching his stomach flip from side to side as the baby decided to have a party in there whilst Draco showered, feeling both excited and nervous about tomorrow. His friends had supported his decision, but he was definitely prepared for the inevitable backlash. Still, he told himself, he’d be leaving school in a few weeks anyway. He’d put up with worse before.

*

The estate agent that met Harry and Draco the following morning was a young witch whom Harry vaguely recognised from Hogwarts as a girl a few years ahead of him; possibly a Ravenclaw, Harry thought. She gaped when Harry took Draco’s hand in his and informed her loudly, catching the attention of passing villagers, that he and Draco wished to rent a house together, and that two bedrooms were required, one of which would become the baby’s nursery. Harry bit back a laugh as she stumbled through the introduction to the house.

It was a quaint nineteenth century cottage right on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, about a forty minutes’ walk to Hogwarts. It had a large garden, with a little wooden fence and gate at the beginning of what the estate agent told Harry and Draco was a cobbled path (they were unable to see it thanks to the snow) leading up to a stone cottage with thatched roof and black, glossy front door.

Harry fell in love with the cottage the minute he stepped inside. The ceilings were low-beam, the rooms an irregular, almost quirky shape, and there were well-worn, comfortable-looking armchairs whose pattern didn’t match that of the carpet. There was a huge fireplace, which the agent lit with her wand, and very soon the house was alive with both heat and light. The large living room window overlooked the garden, and there was a wonderful view of an apple tree- bare this time of year, of course, but Harry imagined it with its leaves, offering cool shade in the summer months. Harry suddenly had an image of Draco chasing a crawling baby around the garden in springtime whilst he watched from this window, and his stomach fluttered. The kitchen was long and rectangular and airy. It had a brushed limestone tiled floor with a large solid pale wood table at the far end, and a jade green Aga to cook on. He could tell Draco was unenthusiastic about the house, however; until the agent, whose name was Laura, she’d said, showed them a small but perfectly equipped Potions lab through a doorway that led off from the kitchen. Then Harry knew he’d been won over.

The bedrooms were modest in size but incredibly comfortable with neutral décor, and a large four-poster bed in the master bedroom. The bathroom was clean and functional, and had a deep bath sunk into the floor in the centre of the room.

Harry turned to Draco hopefully. Draco rolled his eyes but nodded, and Harry threw his arms around him.

“Rent is three hundred Galleons per calendar month,” Laura said automatically, reading off a chart. “The contract is for an initial period of six months, and your tenancy will commence on the thirtieth of April, 1999. The landlord allows you to cast your own privacy wards on the property but does insist stronger charms such as the Fidelius Charm are only cast with written prior permission.” She waved her wand and conjured a sheet of parchment. “Here’s the contract. Take it away with you and have a read through, and if you’re happy with its terms then return it via owl within seven days from now.” She smiled warmly at them both. “Congratulations, gentlemen. And good luck with everything.” She left then, leaving Harry and Draco alone in the property.

“Wow, this is our new house,” Harry said.

“Just ours,” Draco said, leaning in for a kiss. “At least until Malfoy Junior arrives anyway.”

“Potter-Malfoy Junior,” Harry corrected, and reached up to meet Draco’s waiting lips.

By the time they emerged from the cottage, beaming and clasping hands, there was a small crowd gathered outside the gate. Harry grinned. Stage one of Harry Potter’s Grand Coming Out Plan had gone perfectly.

*

The second part of Harry’s plan was also going well, too. He and Draco had booked a table in a small, exclusive restaurant in Hogsmeade, surrounded by couples, all enjoying a romantic meal on the evening before Valentine’s Day. There was no way anyone watching them could mistake them for simply friends. Both were wearing smart dress robes (Hermione had once again altered Harry’s for him to fit over his impressive twenty-five weeks bump), and he and Draco were sat opposite one another, eating and talking, but it was the small things, like a brush of fingers across the backs of hands, that had seemed to capture the other diners’ attention. As they finished their main courses and waited for dessert, the inevitable happened.

“Harry Potter! Felicity Stewart, Daily Prophet,” she said, thrusting out a confident hand to Harry, whilst completely ignoring Draco. Harry noticed the camera flung ostentatiously around her neck and didn’t take her hand. “Mister Potter, would you care to make a statement about the nature of your relationship with your dining companion?”

Harry took a large sip of water from his glass and pretended to think it over. Hermione had, of course, coached him in exactly how to answer this question.

“Draco and I are prepared to give you a statement for your paper,” Harry said, and the reporter looked as if all her Christmases had come at once, “but we have a few stipulations. Firstly, we are prepared to give you an exclusive statement and one photograph, and guarantee not to talk to any other reporter or publication. But in return for you getting an exclusive, the Prophet will print the facts as we give them to you only. It will not print lies, or speculated half-truths. Neither you nor any other Prophet journalist or photographer will take photographs without our knowledge, and after tomorrow’s edition of your rag you will print nothing more about us unless you have our express prior consent. And after we have spoken this evening you will leave us alone to enjoy the rest of our dinner.”

“And if I don’t agree to your terms?” said the reporter sweetly, and Harry was reminded horribly of Umbridge. Fuck, he hated reporters.

“If you don’t,” Draco interjected just as falsely sweetly, and Harry had to admit he was good at the voice, “then we will give full, open interviews to both Witch Weekly and the Quibbler, and we will sue you for defamation. You think any judge will rule against the Boy Who lived?”

The smile on Felicity Whateverthefuckhersurnamewas’ face faltered slightly, but she nodded.

“OK, boys, have it your way.” She drew out a small notebook and what Harry recognised as a Quick-Quotes Quill.

Harry realised all eyes were on him, including the waiting staff. He reached over, took Draco’s hand in his, and brought it to his lips, brushing his mouth lightly across Draco’s knuckles.

“Draco and I are in a relationship together. And, before you say it, no it’s not a Love Potion, or Imperius, or anything else you’re probably going to suggest. It’s simply the two of us, realising we felt more for each other than just friends and taking it to the next level.”

“And what would you say to our readers who are rightly concerned that their hero is romantically involved with an ex-Death Eater?” Felicity pushed.

“As I said at Draco’s trial- months before we were even friends, let alone anything else happened between us- Draco Malfoy was forced by Voldemort to carry out the desperate acts he did, for fear of his parents’ lives. He never killed anyone, and he saved my life. I would have lost the war with Voldemort had it not been for him,” Harry said confidently.

“Is Draco Malfoy the father of your baby?”

“No comment,” Harry said. “You will publish nothing about the pregnancy. Remember that little thing Draco mentioned about suing you?”

“Fine.” She sounded petulant. “I will have that photo now.”

Harry grinned at Draco, as Draco leant over and kissed Harry gently and chastely on the mouth as the bulb of the camera flashed.

“Remember,” Draco warned, “you will not twist our words, print anything we haven’t said, or take any additional photos. Now, you have your scoop. Fuck off.”

Harry snorted at the expression on Felicity’s face from Draco’s rude dismissal, but simply waved bye-bye at her mockingly. She opened her mouth as if to speak, clearly changed her mind, nodded to them both and disappeared from the restaurant. Harry released a shaky breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Did I-” he began, but Draco cut him off.

“You were brilliant,” he said, as a dumbfounded waiter brought over two portions of chocolate fondant and cream. “And I’m sure it won’t hurt that I got a Tongue-Tying Curse on her whilst you were talking. She can’t mention the pregnancy or baby, either verbally or in print.”

“You total genius,” Harry laughed, and tucked into his pudding.

*

Harry was merely picking at his breakfast next to Draco at the Slytherin table the following morning when the owls delivered the Sunday Prophet to the students and staff. There was almost a collective gasp as newspapers were unfolded and students were treated to a full-spread photo of Draco and Harry, lips pressed together, with a huge, bold headline that simply read, ‘THE KISS’. Harry skimmed the article: The Prophet can exclusively reveal… Witches everywhere will have their hearts broken… Potter in a relationship with another man… appeared extremely comfortable with one another… Malfoy exonerated of serious Death Eater activity back in August… obvious his relationship with Ginevra Weasley is one of friendship only… shared intimate touches and were clearly happy.

Felicity Stewart had clearly kept her word. There was nothing except the truth as Harry had told it in the paper. Harry felt himself relax. He still hated the fact that he’d had to go through with this at all, but Harry was just delighted it had been on his terms with his words, rather than some vile little story accompanied by a covert photo taken by some journalist who’d been spying on him. He looked over at the teachers’ table: Hagrid had his mouth wide open in surprise- a mouthful of un-chewed scrambled egg clearly visible within. Other teachers appeared to be muttering about the article, but when Harry’s eyes caught Professor McGonagall’s she gave him a wink and raised her goblet to him. He turned his head to the Gryffindor table. His friends were all staring with smiles and support, whilst the rest of his house seemed slightly shocked but glaring at the other tables, as if daring to confront their hero.

Blaise Zabini shook Harry’s hand and told him he’d guessed a long time ago, whilst the majority of the Slytherin table- Nott and Goyle in particular- were shooting murderous glances. That had been expected, however. Harry quickly scanned the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables whilst Draco read the article. Those students who didn’t subscribe to the paper were hovering over the shoulders of those who did, or leaning across their house table to get a better look. There was no open hostility from the two houses, but Harry didn’t doubt for a second that he’d provided the two biggest gossiping houses ammunition for the rest of the school year. It’s not as if there hadn’t been speculation amongst the students, but to have it confirmed in- literally- black and white, as Photo Draco leant over the candle-lit table and kissed Photo Harry sweetly before the pair beamed at each other- well, it was like giving a man who’d been lost in the desert for days a huge glass of ice water.

He and Draco had already planned to spend the day in their room to avoid the questions that were bound to plague them, and once they were in the corridor Harry threw his Invisibility Cloak over them both for added privacy as they made their way to the fifth floor. The walk was awkward and the Cloak barely covered him, Draco and the baby, but eventually they made it, whispered the password, slammed the door behind them, and tore off the Cloak.

“That went as well as could be expected,” Harry said, making his way to their bed and laying on his back across the width of it, legs dangled over the side. “McGonagall seemed to approve, anyway.”

“We’re a gossiper’s wet dream, I hope you know that,” Draco said, perching on the mattress next to him. Harry looked into his eyes. They were sparkling. It took Harry a while to place the emotion contained in them, but when he did he felt his heart flip. It was pure devotion. Fuck it, he thought, and reached over and grabbed Draco’s hand in his.

“You do know, don’t you, that I wouldn’t have done this if I wasn’t serious about us,” Harry said, and suddenly what he wanted to say flowed with ease. “I did this because- because you’re my future, the one I want to be with forever, and I refuse to spend my life hiding. I love you, Draco.”

Harry had barely got the words out before Draco’s mouth crashed desperately onto Harry’s, his tongue swiping at Harry’s lower lip not asking but demanding entrance, Draco’s hands grasping Harry’s arms tightly.

“Love you too, I- oh fuck, Harry,” he rasped, peppering Harry’s mouth, cheeks, chin, and neck with the sweetest, most sensual kisses imaginable, before he nibbled on Harry’s earlobe. Harry became aware of Draco’s fingers deftly unbuttoning his own shirt and he moved his hands up to take over the job. “I wanted to tell you ages ago, but I was scared to, and then- mmmm that’s good,” he moaned as Harry reached up and swiped a tongue over Draco’s nipple, “then you told the whole world about me and I knew you must love me too and- and now I’ll shut up.” He buried his face in Harry’s neck and slipped a hand around the elastic of Harry’s incredibly unsexy tracksuit bottoms, yanking them down, taking Harry’s boxers with them.

A minute later and neither of them had a scrap of clothing on. Harry was usually self-conscious of his ever-growing stomach, and Draco of his Dark Mark, but today it didn’t matter. They loved each other, and Harry thought his heart might explode with emotion. He trembled as Draco began to trail kisses down him, starting at the corner of his mouth and working his way past his collarbone, chest, and belly button, before reaching his goal. Harry’s hands fisted into blond hair, pulling tighter than was probably comfortable. It was brilliant, fantastic, magnificent, and a whole other load of adjectives that Harry’s lust-addled brain couldn’t quite remember, and yet it was nowhere near enough.

“Draco. Draco, stop,” he gasped, and Draco did, coming back up the bed. He looked both confused and a bit hurt.

“Sorry, was it not…?” he began, uncertain of himself, and Harry shook his head vehemently.

“Draco, it was great, honestly. It’s just I- I want to… I…” Deciding actions would speak louder than words, Harry kissed Draco’s mouth with a passion, and allowed the hand that was holding the back of Draco’s head to trace a lazy trail down Draco’s spine, before settling on his buttocks. Harry squeezed the cheeks, and ran a finger suggestively up and down the cleft.

“Oh,” Draco said, breaking Harry’s kiss, and looking him in the eyes. They were dazed, and slightly clouded, with huge dark pupils burying the stormy grey irises.

Harry had a few seconds where he mentally thanked George and his inappropriate gag gifts, before Draco was kissing him so intently he was no longer thinking at all. He was feeling. And he felt alive.

His heart skipped a beat and his stomach fluttered with both nerves and excitement as Draco Summoned the small bottle of aromatherapy oil Ginny had given him for Christmas, and handed it to Harry. He felt his breath come shallower as he uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into his hand, before slipping it between Draco’s legs.

Fingers suddenly gripped Harry’s arms hard enough to bruise. Harry stopped.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, worried. Draco shook his head.

“No, it’s just- it feels strange. You know I’ve never-”

Harry did know this, of course; Draco had said weeks ago that when they did finally have sex, he wanted Harry to top, so they could each be the other’s first time- at least in one sense. It had warmed Harry to know that his cool, proud Slytherin could be as a big of a romantic sap in private as he himself was.

“’S OK,” Harry soothed, searching for the spot the book had told Harry would have Draco seeing stars. He knew as soon as he’d found it; Draco gave a small whimper, and clung to Harry tightly.

“Harry, ready,” Draco moaned. Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He was actually going to do this. He sat on his ankles facing Draco, and pushed forward.

It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Harry’s entire nervous system tingled and flickered, and he shut his eyes tight, focussing on making Draco produce those glorious noises, finding just the right spot inside him that made Draco gasp and shudder and cry out. His nerves danced in appreciation as he moved, gently and tentatively at first, and then speeding up as he gained confidence. They sparked as pushed, harder and deeper, before finally they combusted in an explosion of sheer euphoria as Harry let himself go, with a chant of, “Draco, yes, love you, love you, Draco,” on his lips, before collapsing, utterly spent, onto Draco’s chest. He reached upwards and kissed Draco furiously, wrapping a shaking hand around him and stoking him, once, twice, three times, before Draco too was arching his back and coming, letting out a sharp cry into Harry’s open mouth.

“God, Harry,” Draco said, and Harry was delighted to hear is own emotions echoed in Draco’s unsteady voice.

“Are you OK? I didn’t hurt you?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head.

“No, not really. Totally worth it, anyway.” He held out and arm, clearly wanting Harry to cuddle into him; a request he was more than happy to oblige.

It wasn’t going to be perfect. There was going to be an inevitable backlash from the Prophet’s article, both from the public and some of the students. Nott and Goyle in particular Harry needed to keep an eye on until they could move out of the castle. But he loved Draco, and Draco loved him. And that was enough to get him through whatever problems were about to come their way.

_________________________________

Bend Over! A Complete Guide to Anal Sex for Men is a real book O_o I went onto an online bookshop and did a search, and chose the one with the most comically inappropriate title. It fits so perfectly here.
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Expecting the Unexpected