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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
- 10
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Chapter Eleven: The Backlash

The ‘I’ve just lost my virginity’ buzz lasted for exactly twenty-two hours, until Harry and Draco re-joined the hustle of the school early on Monday morning. The previous day had been wonderful; they’d lain in bed together, talking, kissing, and even having sex once more, before showering together, eating some of the food they’d picked up in Hogsmeade the previous day, kissing again, and telling each other they loved them whilst pretending they were the only ones who existed. It had been bliss.

Returning to lessons was a sharp lesson in reality. Harry had been prepared for the whispers and pointing- after all, it was nothing new. What he was unprepared for was the downright abuse yelled at him and Draco, albeit by a small minority of students.

“Boy Who Bends Over!”

“Hey, Potter, if I get a Dark Mark on my arm, would you suck my dick too?”

“Your mother sacrificed her life for a queer? What a waste.”

“Well, Malfoy, now we know how you and your scumbag family avoided Azkaban. Whored yourself out in exchange for a testimony, didn’t you?”

He and Draco gritted their teeth and ignored them the best they could, and it was to Harry’s mild surprise that it was Hermione who snapped first, catching the next person who made a ‘Harry Poofter’ joke with a Stinging Hex so powerful that they’d had to spend the morning in the Hospital Wing having Dittany applied to their skin.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Draco said that evening. Harry stared at him.

“I don’t regret it for a second,” he said. “I can deal with this if you can. I spent all of last year being ‘Public Enemy Number One’, remember? This is nothing.”

That wasn’t entirely true, Harry thought to himself. The words did hurt. He took comfort though that not a single student that remained at Hogwarts who had been in the DA or fought in the Battle of Hogwarts had a single bad thing to say. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley had cornered Harry after Herbology and offered him their support, whilst Anthony Goldstein had winked and said that if he and Draco ever split up he’d love to take Harry out on a date- causing Harry to blush furiously. Harry had caught Parvati, Lavender and Fay Dunbar whispering and giggling in the Gryffindor common room, all three of whom shut up abruptly as soon as he walked in with Ginny and Neville, but it wasn’t malicious in nature, and Harry could deal with that.

It wasn’t as if half the school hadn’t at one point speculated about them being a couple, since Draco’s Confunded revelation about the baby back in Potions, what seemed like years ago now. But a few weeks is a long time in a school; the speculation had died down, particularly as, at the time, there really had been nothing romantic between them then to fuel any rumours, and McGonagall had made it clear, in no uncertain terms one morning at breakfast when the gossiping was at its peak, that the pregnancy had been a magical fluke. Then the article with Ginny appeared over the Christmas holidays, and everyone had turned their attention discussing whether Harry and Ginny were back together or not- Draco practically forgotten.

And now, of course, there was a new article, leaving no room for ambiguity as to the precise nature of Harry and Draco’s relationship. And once again Harry was discovering that people whom he’d never previously had any interaction with felt they had the right to pass comment on his life.

That sentiment wasn’t just confined to the walls of the castle. Never had Harry been more grateful that mail from strangers was no longer delivered to the Gryffindor table at breakfast. By the time a week had passed from the publication, Harry had accumulated a pile of mail several feet high. It wasn’t all critical- some people were offering their support, but Harry cast Incendio at the entire pile without reading more than a couple. There had also been a rather sizeable pile of tell-tale red envelopes, magicked to only open at his touch, that had lain on the Owlery floor, waiting for him. He opened them in quick succession, releasing a huge bust of screaming, of which he caught snippets: “Wicked Boy… Death Eater… Unnatural… Repent before it’s too late… says in Leviticus 18:22… let your public down…” causing the few stubborn owls that had remained in the Owlery trying to sleep over the noise to up and leave their perches. The Howlers were thankfully mainly short, and combusted almost in unison (the sound of which was a mini explosion), leaving nothing but a substantial mound of ash behind, which Harry Vanished quickly with a flick of his wand.

“Fucking freaks,” Draco said, casting a Fire-Making Spell at his own pile of hate mail (‘Stop corrupting that nice young Potter boy’ tended to be the common theme of his particular correspondence). After the first morning, which had brought a pile of letters and several Howlers to the Hall, McGonagall had applied the same restrictions to Draco’s post as Harry had on his.

They both paused whilst Draco dealt with a pile of Howlers (which was a lot larger than Harry’s), hands over their ears. “And to think I used to envy your fame. It’s nothing but a burden, is it?”

“I could have told you that years ago when you were being such a git to me,” Harry yelled over the din.

*

The reams of post dwindled over the coming week, although hurried excited whispers still plagued Harry every time he walked down a corridor. Still, both he and Draco had dealt with worse, and Ron’s constant bellowing and terrifying the younger students was both heart-warming and amusing.

March arrived, and with it, Harry’s third trimester. He was beginning to become incredibly uncomfortable, and the extreme tiredness was beginning to return, along with difficulty in walking due to pain in his hips, and a persistent need to use the loo. He was also aware that his and Draco’s revised N.E.W.Ts were fast approaching, and he had reluctantly begun studying hard for his examinations.

It was after dinner on the first Wednesday in March, and Harry and Hermione were hard at work on their Transfiguration homework in the library together, when Harry felt the all-too familiar irritation building low down in his abdomen again.

“Need to pee,” he said to Hermione, who hadn’t looked up from her work.

“Hmmm? Oh, OK,” she muttered absently, clearly not having heard a word Harry had said. He hauled himself out of his chair, smiled fondly at his friend who hadn’t even noticed him standing up, and headed for the library doors. He didn’t notice a small pair of black eyes trailing him as he stood, or the padding of footprints behind him as he made his way to the boys’ toilets.

He was just emerging from a cubicle when he looked up and stopped dead, noticing the huge figure of Gregory Goyle standing in front of the door, arms folded and glaring in what Harry assumed Goyle thought was a menacing manner, but Harry thought just made him look like a constipated rhinoceros.

“Move,” he commanded. Goyle just stood there.

“Make me,” he said. Harry rolled his eyes. He was tired, he had work to do, and he was feeling achy and uncomfortable. He didn’t have the time or the inclination for a fight. He stared at Goyle, eyebrow raised in what he hoped was a contemptuous manner.

“I were surprised to hear you and Draco was together,” Goyle said, and Harry thought it might be the first time he’d ever heard the man utter a complete, albeit grammatically shit, sentence.

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised you can walk and talk at the same time,” Harry replied. “Particularly without dragging your knuckles across the ground, anyway. Life’s full of surprises.”

“I’m gonna make you pay,” Goyle said. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m trembling. I’ve fought Voldemort, Bellatrix, and a bunch of Death Eaters all by myself- and won, remember- but now is where I get really scared.”

“You killed Crabbe,” Goyle said. He opened his left hand and punched his right into it. He looked like a class A thug.

“Actually, Crabbe killed Crabbe. It’s thanks to me and Ron that you didn’t die too,” Harry replied. “Although perhaps I should have told Ron to leave you to burn to death like your useless friend after all.”

Goyle stepped away from the door then, both to Harry’s relief and chagrin, for, although he now had a way out, Goyle was heading straight for him. Draco’s words from weeks and weeks ago flashed into his mind: ‘You will not put our baby in a potentially risky situation, OK? Stop being a reckless Gryffindor for five minutes and show some Slytherin self-preservation.’ He suddenly felt incredibly stupid. He should have just hexed Goyle as soon as he saw him standing by the doors, but no, he had to be a reckless Gryffindor with a smart mouth, didn’t he? It was too late now. He’d lost the element of surprise; if he went for his wand now Goyle would be prepared. Best to try and keep him talking and get the hell out of there. Faking nonchalance he didn’t feel, Harry headed for the sinks and washed his hands.

“You know, McGonagall said that if you got into any more trouble she’s expel you,” Harry said, wiping his wet hands onto his robes. “I’d say threatening me in a bathroom counts as trouble, wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t care ‘bout school,” Goyle said. “This is worth getting expelled over.” His hand quivered and went for the pocket in his school robes. Harry reacted instinctively, reaching for his own wand. He was a fraction of a second quicker drawing his than Goyle, and yelled, “Impedimenta!”

The hex missed by millimetres. Harry swore and only just managed to dodge Goyle’s Stunning Spell. At that point the stark truth slapped him in the face. He was in the later stages of pregnancy, he couldn’t run, and he couldn’t drop impulsively to the floor. He wasn’t anywhere near in the condition needed to be duelling.

What the fuck am I doing? Harry thought erratically, dodging another curse simply through luck as he fired back a Stunner of his own. He was out of practice, and heavy, and his movement was restricted. He had edged nearer to the bathroom door, determined to make a break for it if he could, when two things happened in rapid succession. Harry was suddenly aware of the bathroom door bursting open and Draco and Ron running in at full speed, just as Goyle, a malicious feral grin on his troglodytic face, pointed his wand directly at Harry’s bump and yelled, “Sectumsempra!”

Harry barely had time to register the words that had left Goyle’s mouth before Ron, who was nearer to Harry than Draco, had leapt in front of him, catching the spell on his right thigh, which split open and instantly resulted in a pool of crimson around them. He gave a huge roar of pain and fell to the ground, just as Draco yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” Goyle’s hulky body went rigid and tumbled onto the cool stone steps of the bathroom floor.

“Fuck,” Harry said, and stared, wide-eyed and terrified, at his best friend. His best friend who had willingly and quite deliberately just taken a curse for him that could have seriously injured- or worse- his baby, had it struck Harry. And now he was lying, looking incredibly white, in a pool of his own blood on the floor of a bathroom in some kind of sick déjà vu. Harry thought he might cry.

“Harry. Move.” Draco sounded furious and Harry didn’t hesitate to obey. He watched as Draco crouched over Ron, wand out, repeating the same soft, almost song-like incantation that he’d heard Snape use on Draco himself nearly two years previously, and gave a huge, shuddering dry sob of relief when he saw the skin of Ron’s thigh begin to knit back together.

“He needs Dittany,” Draco said. Harry noticed his voice was icy calm, a tone that Harry had learnt meant the Slytherin was anything but. “You take him. I’m taking Goyle to McGonagall.” Harry watched as Draco cast ropes and bound the still immobile Goyle securely, then he Levitated him out of the bathroom.

“Harry! For fuck’s sake! Take Weasley to Pomfrey!” he yelled, then was gone.

Harry snapped out of his shock.

“Ron,” he said softly, as Ron struggled to his feet, wincing in pain but no longer looking as pale. Draco had done a fantastic job healing his leg. “Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry. Can- can you walk?”

“Yeah,” Ron rasped. Harry carefully steadied Ron with an arm- overwhelming affection and gratitude for him flooding Harry- and together the pair gingerly made their way to the Hospital Wing.

“Don’t I see enough of you here as it is, Potter?” Madam Pomfrey said, not unkindly, as she helped lower Ron onto a bed. Harry smiled grimly at her and explained the situation. By the time he’d finished, Madam Pomfrey looked appalled.

“Despicable boy,” she said, retrieving a bottle of Dittany from her store cupboard and applying it to the now thin red line where the Sectumsempra Spell had hit, “trying to hurt a baby like that. He was a wicked child last year; he may not have the Mark on his arm but he did more damage than most children in this school. I saw first-hand what the brute did. He should never have been allowed to return, but of course he managed to convince the Wizengamot that he feared for his life so followed the Carrows’ orders. Lies, all of them, but Headmistress McGonagall had no choice but to allow him back this year.”

Harry was surprised. He’d never heard the matron talk like that about another student before.

Just then the door to the Hospital Wing opened and Professor McGonagall strode in, followed by Draco and a worried-looking Hermione, who immediately spotted Ron on the bed and sprinted towards him. When she reached his bed she burst into tears and threw her arms around him, until Ron was completely obscured by a huge mass of bushy brown hair.

“Malfoy has informed me of what has happened, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “And Gregory Goyle will of course be removed from the school permanently. However it’s not as simple as just expelling him. From what I understand, Goyle cast a charm so serious in nature it could have caused severe damage to you and the foetus, correct?” Harry nodded numbly. “In that case, Potter, it’s a matter for the Aurors. That spell is incredibly Dark and certainly illegal, and Goyle can’t claim he felt his life was under threat this time.” Harry thought there was a tone of satisfaction in her voice. “Weasley, how are you feeling?”

“’M, OK, P’f’s’er,” Ron’s voice murmured through Hermione’s hair. Hermione blushed and shifted positions slightly, allowing Ron’s face to become visible once more. Professor McGonagall’s lip twitched in amusement. “Very well then. I shall leave you all in Madam Pomfrey’s hands whilst I contact the Auror Office.” She bid them all farewell and turned to stride back out of the Hospital Wing.

“Er, Professor,” Ron called, “can I talk to Goyle before he goes with the Aurors? Please? It’s important.”

“As long as Madam Pomfrey says it’s okay, then yes, Mister Weasley. Join me in my office when you can,” she replied, and walked out of the room.

Harry, Hermione and Draco gave Ron a look, as if to say, ‘What are you talking to that maniac for?’ but he simply shook his head. “I’ll tell you later,” he said.

“Well, it’s been an eventful evening,” Harry said, and was surprised to see both Draco’s and Ron’s livid faces trained on his. “Um. What?”

“You complete and utter fucking bastard,” Draco said, and Harry was totally taken aback. “What do you think you were doing, running off to meet Goyle on your own like that? If I didn’t have the Map, if I hadn’t seen you both in the bathroom on it-”

“I didn’t go ‘running off to meet Goyle’,” Harry snapped back, his temper rising. “I was using the loo. How was I to know that psycho was waiting for me? What am I supposed to do, wait for someone to take me to the toilet like a fucking toddler or something?”

“Yes,” Draco said simply.

“You fought him,” Ron said, his tone accusing, and Harry felt a huge spike of guilt rise up within him. “Merlin, Harry, you’ve got everyone and his wife surrounding Malfoy day and night, but you’re the bloody moron who needs protecting, aren’t you? I didn’t know what to think when I saw Malfoy pelting towards the bathroom, but guessed enough. I- just- be careful, Harry, OK? I’m not always going to be there to take curses for you, you know?”

“Weasley, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m extremely grateful you were there tonight,” Draco said evenly. Ron’s ears pinked.

“Yeah, well, thanks for patching my leg up,” he said. And despite his guilt, his fear, and his anger, Harry couldn’t help smiling. It would take a near-death experience for Ron and Draco to be almost friendly with one another, he thought wryly.

Madam Pomfrey appeared then with a phial of Blood- Replenishing Potion, and instructed Ron to drink it all. Ron sighed but followed her order, grimacing as the slimy, foul-tasting potion slithered down his throat.

“Now keep your voices down, gentlemen. And Miss Granger,” she added as an afterthought, although Hermione had been eerily silent the entire conversation so far. “Otherwise I shall have to ask you all to leave so my patient can rest.”

“Hermione, are you alright?” Harry asked gently and, to his bewilderment, she threw herself into his arms and began to cry.

“Oh, Harry,” she sobbed, “it’s my fault, you tried to tell me where you were going, didn’t you, and I wasn’t listening, I was so engrossed in my stupid book, and by the time I realised you weren’t there anymore I didn’t have a clue where you’d gone, and then Draco came running into the library and said Ron was hurt, and…” She buried her face in her hands, sobbing loudly.

“Really!” came Madam Pomfrey’s voice. “I do have other patients you know! Patients who are trying to sleep! Out, all of you! You too, Mister Weasley. You’re perfectly healed thanks to Mister Malfoy’s spell work and my potions. You’re free to leave.”

All four of them began the walk to McGonagall’s office with Ron. They appeared a united front, and despite the horrors of the evening, Harry felt a tingling of warmth at this. Not enough to wash down the guilt he felt about Ron’s injury, however. He hung back from Draco and Hermione (who’d stopped sobbing now), and Ron, letting go of Hermione’s supporting arm and waving her ahead, slowed down with him.

“Look, Ron,” Harry began. He inexplicably felt nervous. “What you did this evening, I… well, it… oh, bloody hell, Ron. I don’t know what to say. You could have saved the life of the baby tonight. Thank you so, so much.” Ron’s angry face softened and he let out a deep sigh.

“I wasn’t going to let him hurt you or the sprog,” Ron replied. “Although just promise me, Harry, that I won’t be in a situation where I have to do it again, OK?”

“I promise I’ll try not to be in that situation, but you know me and trouble,” Harry quipped, and Ron grinned at him, before engulfing Harry in a tight hug. The ‘I was scared shitless’ went unsaid, but Harry heard it nonetheless. He hugged Ron back furiously, affection for his first and best friend overwhelming him, and he realised his eyes were prickling once more. He impatiently blinked the threatening tears away, and released Ron from his grip.

They caught up to Draco and Hermione (who had both tactfully gone ahead to give him and Ron a ‘moment’) and Harry reached out for Draco’s hand. Draco glared at him, clearly not having forgiven Harry yet, but took the hand anyway, and Harry noticed he was holding on extremely tightly.

They reached the staircase leading up to McGonagall’s office. Harry noticed Draco had balled his free hand into a fist, and the fingernails in the hand held in his were digging into the flesh on Harry’s palm.

“If I see Goyle right now, I shall kill him,” he said. Harry noticed he was shaking. “He tried to hurt Harry and my child, and it’s already taken every ounce of my restraint not to seriously injure him once this evening. I cannot find such restraint again.”

“Then we’ll go back to our room,” Harry said, rubbing soothing circles over Draco’s hand with his thumb. He looked at Ron and Hermione, making sure this was fine with them, and received two small smiles in response. “But, Ron, please tell me. Why do you need to talk to him?”

“The cunt owes me a life debt,” Ron replied with a smile of triumph, and it was testament to how much Hermione clearly hated Goyle that she made no attempt to reprimand Ron for his extremely foul language. “And I’m cashing it in. He’s never going to hurt you, Malfoy or the baby ever again- either directly or due to him ordering someone else to hurt you.”

“That’s very decent of you, Weasley,” Draco said and, to Harry’s shock, held out a hand. Ron offered half a smile before taking it. The handshake was brief, far too formal, and cool, but it was real. It was the most civil Ron and Draco had ever been towards one another, and it was a start.

The events of the last couple of hours or so finally caught up with Harry, and he suddenly felt completely exhausted. He tried- unsuccessfully- to stifle a yawn, which was noticed by all three of the people watching him.

“Go to bed, Harry,” Hermione said. It was the first thing she’d said since they’d left the Hospital Wing. She was being unusually quiet. Harry assumed she had been shocked by Ron’s injury.

“Yeah, I will. Ron- you’ve been amazing this evening. Thank you. Again.”

Ron and Hermione disappeared up the spiral staircase then, leaving Draco and Harry in the corridor.

“Let’s go,” Harry said wearily.

They reached their room, Draco whispered the password, and slipped inside. He hadn’t said a word to Harry on the walk back to their room. Harry sighed and followed him into the room. He shrugged out of his clothes and got into his pyjamas whilst Draco instantly disappeared into the bathroom. He could hear the running of water, but wasn’t tempted to try and slip into the shower with Draco. Instead he picked up a book and tried to read, but the words just swam randomly and meaninglessly in front of his eyes. Eventually Draco emerged from the bathroom, hair soaked and darkened from the shower, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, leaving his smooth chest bare. Harry stared at it, but not in a sexual way.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Draco looked up.

“Yes?”

“I never apologised to you. When I cast that at you. The Sectumsempra, I mean. Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Draco gave him a small smile. “I thought you were going to say sorry for tonight. Harry, that was nearly two years ago, and I was trying to Cruciate you! You did what you could to defend yourself. If anyone owes anybody an apology, it’s I who owe you one for attempting an Unforgivable.”

“Let’s say we both fucked up then, and we’re both sorry?” Harry suggested hopefully. Draco flashed him one of the crooked smiles that were reserved purely for him and made his heart flutter. He crawled into bed next to Harry, and extinguished the lamps with his wand.

“I was terrified he’d hurt you,” Draco whispered into the dark. “Goyle, I mean. I saw the spell, and froze, and if it hadn’t been for Weasley, I might’ve-”

Harry heard Draco’s voice stall, and he took a shuddering breath before continuing. “I know it wasn’t your fault tonight. I was furious, but with Goyle for doing that to you, and with myself for not reacting quicker. And, yes, I was pissed off that you hadn’t just hexed his arse and got out of there. But I was so frightened. For you and our baby.”

“Boys Who Lived are difficult to destroy, you know,” Harry said, running his fingers through Draco’s damp hair. “And thanks to Ron he can never hurt us again.”

“There’s still Nott,” Draco reminded him.

“Well, as Mad-Eye used to say, ‘constant vigilance’,” Harry replied. “We just need to be careful. I learnt a lesson this evening. I can’t fight. Not well, anyway. And I won’t put the baby in a situation like that again, not if I can help it. Even if that does mean I need to be chaperoned just to go for a pee.”

Draco’s lips were desperate against his then, and Harry was kissing him back, and it was a kiss of relief and possession.

“Mine,” Draco growled, once the kiss ended.

“Yours,” Harry agreed.

Harry still didn’t regret telling the world about him and Draco. The whole Goyle thing would have come up eventually anyway, he thought as he was drifting off to sleep. And he also vowed to buy Ron the most expensive pair of Keeper gloves he could find next time he was in Quality Quidditch Supplies. But there was one thing he was sure of. The end of April, when he and Draco could move into their cottage in Hogsmeade, couldn’t come quickly enough now.
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Expecting the Unexpected