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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter Twelve: Leaving Hogwarts

To Harry’s surprise, Nott left him and Draco alone over the next few weeks. He still received the occasional letter from people either offering their support of condemning him to the fiery pits of Hades, but overall the excitement surrounding his relationship with Draco had died down- both from the students and the public, as he knew it would. And by the time the Prophet published their latest scandal- a story about a Quidditch player for the Appleby Arrows who had apparently flipped out and hexed her husband’s penis off when she caught him in bed with her Chaser teammate- life had returned to its relatively peaceful normality once more for Harry. As peaceful and normal as it can be when you’re an eighteen-year-old male who also happens to be thirty-two weeks pregnant and looking like you’ve swallowed a beach ball, anyway.

Harry’s most recent check-up with his Healer had left him with a strange feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the baby moving. His caesarean section had been booked for the sixteenth of May, a few days short of his thirty-ninth week of pregnancy, which was just a little over six weeks away. Having a definite date by which he would be a parent had suddenly made the entire thing seem a lot more real and he’d had a moment of panic, eased only when Draco took him to the Prefects’ Bathroom and sucked him off whilst Harry laid back in the bubbles.

Goyle, meanwhile, had been sentenced by the Wizengamot. He’d avoided prison but had had his wand snapped and he’d received a lifetime ban on performing magic. He’d also had a modified version of the Trace, one used by the Ministry to track such criminals that could be cast upon of-age witches and wizards (and a relatively new invention), applied, and should he perform any magic either wandlessly (both Harry and Draco had laughed hard at the idea that anyone would think Gregory Goyle capable of any wandless magic) or with another wizard’s wand, then he would receive ten years in Azkaban.

The first of April was a sombre day. Ron and Ginny left Hogwarts via Professor McGonagall’s Floo and spend the day at The Burrow with their parents and George, for his and Fred’s twenty-first birthday. Harry had sent flowers to Mrs Weasley and cards both to George and Arthur, telling them all he was thinking of them and wishing he could be there with them for the day. A pale-looking Ron and Ginny, both with red-rimmed eyes, had returned that evening and disappeared off with their respective partners, leaving Harry to study hard for his first N.E.W.T: his Charms practical exam, which began at nine the following morning.

He and Draco breakfasted in the Great Hall, then, with a final, “Good luck, boys!” from Hermione, they made their way to the sixth floor, where Professor McGonagall had transformed an unused classroom into their examination room.

Madam Marchbanks was already waiting for them when they arrived.

“Mister Malfoy first!” she piped, and Draco gave Harry a grim smile and disappeared into the room. Half an hour later he emerged with a smug smirk on his face, mouthing, “Piece of piss,” at him before taking the seat Harry had just vacated- Marauder’s Map out (just in case of trouble), with a book to wait for Harry.

“Better than your Charms O.W.L, anyway,” Harry taunted with humour, before entering the classroom. He let out a small laugh at Draco’s snort of indignation, remembering how he was responsible for messing up Draco’s practical OWL exam three years previously (and costing Draco the ‘Outstanding’ he had been expected to receive). He was still grinning when Madam Marchbanks asked him to perform a Disillusionment Charm upon himself, ten minutes later.

He emerged from the classroom at the end of the examination and found Draco sat where Harry had left him, with his head in an Astronomy book. Harry looked at him, puzzled.

“You’re not taking Astronomy N.E.W.T,” he said, unnecessarily.

“I know that,” Draco said with amusement, as he replaced the book in his bag and stood up. “I’m looking for baby names.”

“In a school textbook?!”

“You know our family tradition,” Draco said. “I’m named after a celestial body, as is my aunt, and your godfather. I’d like it to continue in our son.” He paused. “I’m thinking of the name Scorpius Hyperion.”

Oh dear God, please let this baby be a girl, Harry thought desperately, but instead he fixed a smile on his face and replied, “Lovely,” with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster.

He spent lunch with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville, before heading back to the classroom with Draco and sitting the written portion of the Charms exam, which was all on the Fidelius Charm. Harry felt that he had done a decent, albeit not brilliant job on his paper, and left the exam feeling rather content, before returning to his and Draco’s room to begin revising Defence Against the Dark Arts- the only one of his N.E.W.Ts in which he was aiming for an O.

The following day, Draco had his examination in Arithmancy. Harry took both his DADA book and, Draco’s words about wanting to follow tradition still fresh in his mind, the Astronomy book from yesterday with him up to the classroom to wait for Draco to finish. The chapter in Advanced Defence for N.E.W.T Students on the importance in distinguishing between a Siren and a mermaid (before the former lured you to your death with her voice) was dull; Harry put the book down and turned to the Astronomy book instead. He quickly located the section he was looking for, scanned the information, and smiled broadly. He’d just found his child’s name, should it be a girl, and now he really, really hoped it was as the name was much nicer than Scorpius.

He reluctantly turned his attention back to his Defence book, and was still reading when Draco emerged from his exam, looking tired, slightly pale and muttering about numerology, half an hour later.

In between their N.E.W.Ts, he and Draco were still required to attend lessons for subjects they’d not sat their exams in yet. Potions was never fun, and Harry found himself becoming more and more frustrated with the subject- particularly so during the first Potions lesson after the Easter holidays where he was trying- unsuccessfully- to brew the antidote for Veritaserum. One look at both Draco’s and Hermione’s told him that whatever Harry had done, it was wrong. It was nowhere near the ‘soft, shimmering pearlescent pink’ that it described in Advanced Potions, as theirs were. His was opaque, cerise in colour and emitting a faint smell of almonds. Still, it was better than Ron’s; Ron had a lump (that was the best word Harry could use to describe it) or tar-like matter in a shocking shade of orange that could rival the Chudley Cannons uniform, and had the acrid smell of melting plastic which caught in the back of Harry’s throat, causing him to keep his distance. Slughorn came over, tutted and shook his head, and scribbled a large and obvious ‘P’ next to Ron’s name before glaring at him.

“Fucking Potions,” Ron said to Harry, when they were in the Gryffindor common room together whilst Draco and Hermione were in Ancient Runes. “I wish I never had to take it again after next week, mate. Fancy a game of wizard chess?”

                                                                                                *

Teddy’s first birthday arrived. Harry and Draco were unable to visit him for the day, but sent gifts and an invitation to Andromeda to spend the day with them on May the first, the day after they moved into their cottage. Harry had said they could all attend the memorial at Hogwarts the following day together, and Andromeda had agreed.

Harry and Draco’s exams had nearly finished. With just Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts to go, Harry was feeling cautiously optimistic that he was at least going to pass his N.E.W.Ts with satisfactory grades. And Harry had to smile, two days later, when he opened his Potions written exam and and saw the first question, ‘Explain the effects of a human taking Polyjuice Potion containing non-human DNA’. Remembering Hermione and the Polyjuice containing a hair belonging to Millicent Bulstrode’s cat in their second year, Harry grinned and began to write.

The practical exam didn’t go as badly as Harry expected, either, and by the time Harry emerged from the makeshift Potions classroom with Draco later that afternoon, he felt as if he may have even scraped an ‘E’ on the exam.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was, as Harry had expected it would be, the one exam he breezed through. More so, he thought, due to the fact that his practical had been especially adapted due to his pregnancy, and involved very little in actual casting and counter-jinxing. He was required to produce a corporeal Patronus (bonus points for getting it to relay a voice message), demonstrate the best way to detect a wizard’s magical signature, and show how to identify traces of Dark magic left behind at a location.

The written exam also went well (‘Discuss, with examples of spells and their effects, the ideology that it is the intent of the caster, rather than the spell itself, which determines a spell’s legality and whether a spell should be considered “Dark”’). He left the exam feeling, as he did after his Defence O.W.L examination, that he might have just managed to achieve a top grade.

By the time Draco’s final exam finished on the twenty-eighth of April (an Ancient Runes translation that left him grumpy for the rest of the day), both he and Harry were exhausted. They spent the following day sat by the lake for the final time, with Harry’s friends and Blaise, a picnic in tow, and enjoying the warm late April sunshine, preparing themselves to leave Hogwarts the following day.

                                                                                                *

“Pack,” Draco commanded, pointing his wand first at his belongings, and then at Harry’s, on the morning of the thirtieth of April.

“My mother taught me to do that a long time ago,” Draco said, in response to Harry’s amused look. “The house-elves just never quite got the knack of packing so many items into a tiny space.”

Harry smiled a sad smile, thinking fondly of Tonks in his bedroom in Privet Drive, performing the same charm, and muttering how much better Andromeda was at the spell than her. He couldn’t believe that in just two days’ time it would be the first anniversary of her- and so many other people’s- death. The anniversary of the fall of Voldemort.

He was now thirty-six weeks pregnant, had terrible heartburn all the time that neither potion nor Muggle remedy helped with, and angry-looking red stretch marks all over his stomach that Healer Moore assured she could remove once the baby had been delivered. He supposed he should be thankful he hadn’t grown breasts, at least. Still, he felt unsexy, and hadn’t had the energy or the inclination for anything more than a hand job just before bed for a couple of weeks now. And despite the fact that Harry didn’t feel like an invalid, Draco and his friends were treating him like one. All in all, Harry was fed up, hot, and trying his best not to be acerbic with everyone all the time.

There was a knock at the door then, and Harry opened it to allow Ron and Hermione to enter. “Alright, mate?” Ron asked cheerfully. He and Hermione had arrived to help them move, having been excused from lessons for the morning: Hermione was going to Floo into the cottage with Draco and the luggage, whilst Ron was walking into Hogsmeade with Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Um, could you give us both a minute?” Hermione levitated the trunks out of the room, Ron following. He closed the door behind him. Draco gave Harry an awkward smile.

“I’m going to miss this room,” he said wistfully. His eyes fell on the bed. “Some happy memories.”

“We’ll make new ones. A new beginning,” Harry said, and he was kissing Draco, deeply and with all the love he felt. They both gazed around the room once the kiss ended. Harry was remembering, as he was sure Draco was too, the feeling of Draco underneath him, writhing on the sheets, as Harry trembled and came atop him. Or Harry, in the earlier weeks of them sharing a room, on his knees in the shower sucking Draco off to within an inch of his life. They hadn’t been able to shower together for a long time now. As if to remind him why, the baby gave a massive kick that took Harry’s breath away. Draco looked at him with concern.

“Ribs,” Harry rasped. “I’m OK. Come on, let’s go.” They gave the room a final look over, and then slipped out from the portrait of Eris and Dysnomia for the final time.

“I’ll see you at our cottage in about an hour,” Harry said, grinning. Draco kissed him quickly one final time, levitated one of the trunks whilst Hermione took the other, and they disappeared down a flight of stairs. Harry took a deep breath, said goodbye to Eris in the portrait, and walked away with Ron.

At Harry’s insistence, he and Ron made their way to Gryffindor tower (“For fuck’s sake, Ron, you don’t have to practically cuddle me, I can walk by myself!”) for Harry to say his goodbyes to his friends and take one last look at the first place he ever felt he could call home. The damn pregnancy hormones got to him, and by the time Ginny had extracted her arms from his neck and made Harry promise to come back and see them soon (“yes, Ginny, I’ll be back on Sunday for the memorial, won’t I? See, not even a week”), Harry realised he had a lump in his throat.

McGonagall and Hagrid were in the Entrance Hall, waiting to see Harry off.

“You take care of yourself, Potter,” McGonagall said formally, although her eyes shone with fondness. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t. It’s been seven years of Hell, you’ve broken virtually every school rule, almost gotten yourself killed on more than one occasion, and not since your own father was here has anyone got into more trouble. But I’m extremely honoured to have been your Head of House.” She held out her hand and Harry gripped it tightly.

“Thank you, Professor. For everything,” he said with sincerity. He jumped when he heard what sounded like a foghorn blasting, but turned out to be just Hagrid blowing his nose, fat tears streaming down his cheeks and burying themselves in his hairy face.”

“Ah, Harry! Firs’ time I saw yeh, yeh were on’y a baby, an’ yeh fit in me hand! And now look at yeh, yer a man, Harry, abou’ ter have a kid o’ yer own, and I ‘ave ter tell yeh, I’m as proud as punch o’ yer, lad.”

That damn lump in his throat again. Fuck.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered, all he was capable of at that moment, he feared. “I’ll see you both soon.” And before he broke down completely like the soppy tit he was worried pregnancy had turned him into, he gave them both a watery smile, turned on his heels and strode- as much as is possible to stride when you’re thirty-six weeks pregnant- out of the castle doors for the final time as a student of Hogwarts.

The walk to Hogsmeade took nearly double the normal amount of time. Harry had to keep stopping- the pain in his hips getting worse with every few steps- and when he did manage to walk, it was very slowly. He found this all incredibly frustrating, given how nimble and speedy he was when he wasn’t carrying the spawn of a Malfoy inside him. He quickly regretted declining Professor McGonagall’s offer of lending him a Thestral-drawn carriage to take him and Ron at least most of the way (Accepting it had felt like giving in at the time, and Harry berated himself for his own pig-headedness), and even seriously considered hailing the Knight Bus- only the thought of the extreme nausea that the journey would cause put him off. Not that he thought the violently-purple triple-decker vehicle would be welcome in such a quaint and pretty village as Hogsmeade, anyway, and it wouldn’t be a great first impression to make on his neighbours.

The cottage finally came into view. It looked incredibly different than it had the last time Harry had seen it, just over two months previously. That time it had been buried under the thick snow; this time the grass was fresh and dark green, the apple tree he had admired so much was covered in delicate pink and white blossom, and the garden was alive with vibrant the yellows, purples and reds of the spring flowers that were in full bloom. He felt his heart soar; he was going to be very happy here. He just knew it.

“Nice, mate,” Ron said, and Harry could hear the small stab of jealousy that was in his voice. “Think of me tonight, won’t you, when you’re here in luxury and I’m sharing a dorm room with the others, listening to Seamus wanking.”

“Actually, Ron, I was thinking you and Hermione should have mine and Draco’s room,” Harry said with a wink. “Password is ‘Wrackspurt.” He grinned fondly, thinking of Luna, who hadn’t returned to Hogwarts this year, choosing to visit Sweden to look for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks with Xenophilius Lovegood instead. “Should be much more comfortable for you both.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Ron beamed. The two made their way up the garden path to the large black front door. It swung open, revealing Draco who was looking slightly agitated, whether due to the fact Harry and Ron had taken much longer than the hour he said he’d be, or because he’d had to endure an over-excited Hermione on his own.

“The landlord came and dropped off the paperwork and keys,” Draco said, once Harry and Ron were inside the hallway. “And I’ve already unpacked all our belongings.”

“Oh, Harry, it’s wonderful,” Hermione gushed, virtually pushing past Draco in her haste to get to him. “Draco already showed me the Potions lab, and did you know there’s a patch in your garden for growing Potions ingredients? Of course you’ll have to keep the baby away from that- once he or she begins to crawl- but it’s so perfect, and there’s so much space! And it’s so light, and airy, and-”

“Hermione,” Ron said in amusement, “how about you let Harry into his new house properly before you ambush him?”

She flushed and apologised and Harry, entertained, took Ron on the tour. Unsurprisingly, Ron was about as excited by the Potions lab as Harry was, but he did appreciate the huge grassy space at the back of the house, proclaiming it would be perfect for Quidditch games, once Harry could fly again.

Ron and Hermione ran into Hogsmeade then, grabbing basic supplies for Harry and Draco, whilst the pair took a few minutes to relax in their new home. Harry realised he hadn’t stopped smiling once since he’d entered the cottage.

“Going to christen the loo,” he said, hauling himself out of the chair and padding to the toilet. He certainly wasn’t going to miss having to pee every hour. Or at least twice every night. By the time he was done, Ron and Hermione were back and Draco was making a pot of tea on the Aga.

“We’ve got to be back at Hogwarts. Look after yourself, Harry,” Hermione said, once they’d drunk their tea and Ron had eaten half a packet of the chocolate digestives they’d bought. “We’ll see you on Sunday, OK?” She gave him a hug, and looked like she was going to give Draco one too, before changing her mind at the last minute.

“Bye, Harry. Malfoy. Tiddler,” Ron said. He reached into the small ceramic box on the fireplace, which had been stocked with Floo powder by the landlord, threw it into the fireplace, and called out Professor McGonagall’s Floo address. As soon as he disappeared, Hermione repeated his actions, leaving Harry and Draco alone.

“I’m starving. Wish we had a house-elf,” Draco said. Harry rolled his eyes.

“We’ve been here all of five minutes and you’re already complaining about having to make yourself a sandwich?” He laughed. “Sit down. I’ll make them.”

They ate lunch in their garden, at a small table Draco had cleaned with his wand whilst Harry was buttering bread. It felt odd. He had nothing to do- no Horcruxes to search for, no dark lords to slay, no essays to write and no exams to prepare for. He couldn’t remember a period in his life before where he’d literally had nothing but free time. He figured he’d earned it.

Harry ended up cooking dinner that night too- just a simple dish of pasta, bolognaise sauce and salad, and made a mental note to teach Draco to cook. He wasn’t expecting cordon bleu food from his reluctant boyfriend. But a slice of toast might be nice.

He couldn’t complain too much though. Draco ran Harry a bath in their huge tub, and Harry luxuriated, eyes closed and glasses off, in the deep, hot water. So relaxed was he that he didn’t hear Draco enter the bathroom, until a soft, “Budge up,” made him jump.

“Sorry,” Draco said, and Harry saw, through blurry eyes, that Draco wasn’t wearing a scrap of clothing. He shifted forwards in the bath and allowed Draco to climb in behind him, his back falling against Draco’s chest and resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. It was then that he noticed Draco may have had an ulterior motive for joining him in the bath, given a familiar hardness digging in his lower back, and the fact Draco was now peppering his neck and jaw with open mouthed kisses.

“You know, we really should break in that bed of ours,” he said seductively. Harry gave a light chuckle in response.

“Yeah, ‘cause being thirty-six weeks pregnant makes me the ultimate sex machine. You know I can’t at the moment. The angle is all… wrong.”

“Who said anything about you topping me?” Draco replied. Harry suddenly stiffened, and probably not in the way Draco wanted him to.

It wasn’t that he was afraid to let Draco do that to him. It genuinely wasn’t. But Harry was more than aware that Draco had- sort of- done that to him, or what had seemed to be him, already. And he kind of thought he should have at least been there that first time. It made him feel uneasy, that Draco already had the knowledge of what Harry looked like, spread out underneath him, how he felt around Draco, and uneasiness wasn’t exactly the emotion Harry looked for in a sexual encounter.

“Draco, I-” Harry began, but then Draco resumed his kissing, and his hands began wondering lower, and Harry felt himself begin to respond to the touch.

“We will stop straight away if any point you’re uncomfortable,” Draco whispered in his ear as he gripped Harry, causing him to moan and clutch the side of the bath tightly, and Harry could hear the desperate plea in Draco’s voice that had little to do with the desire to fuck him and everything to do with his need for Harry to trust him. Overcome with the need to reassure Draco, to show just how much he trust Draco to do this to him, Harry suddenly found himself nodding. He allowed Draco to help haul him out of the bath (not the best pre- sex course of action in terms of seductiveness), and Draco took him by the hand and led him to their bedroom, kissing him all the way, and laying him down on the bed.

“Don’t be nervous,” Draco said, correctly ascertaining Harry’s mood, but probably not the reason for it (given Harry had never told him as he was piss-poor at actually discussing how he felt about things), and kissing him with passion. Harry was amused to note, as Draco reached for their tube of lubricant, that it had already been put away in a bedside drawer, only hours after moving in.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise,” Draco said, unscrewing the tube, squeezing a generous amount into his palm, and using it to stroke Harry a few times before slipping his hand lower.

It was a very, very unusual sensation. Not unpleasant as such, Harry thought, just… odd. And, despite the fact he’d done it to Draco a fair few times now, more than a little embarrassing. However, with every passing second, Harry’s apprehension ebbed and the pleasure grew as he got used to the intrusion. And when he did feel discomfort, he looked at Draco. Draco, whose skin had broken out in goose pimples from the bathwater drying on his bare skin, his grey eyes sparkling with love and dark with lust, cheeks flushed, and it was all because of Harry. And then Draco’s hands grazed over that spot, and suddenly Harry couldn’t have pulled away even if he wanted to.

And as Draco laid Harry on his side, and pushed slowly forwards, Harry totally forgot about any reason why he’d been worried about this. Draco’s raspy breathing, his teeth in the juncture of neck and collarbone, a flick of a wet tongue at the pulse point, and Harry was lost. Draco was doing amazing things to his entire body and he simply enjoyed the experience of being truly taken care of for once.

“Draco,” he said, and realised he was totally out of breath despite the fact he wasn’t moving, “I- oh, wow, there.” He could hear the shift in Draco’s breathing, felt the urgency of his strokes increase, and then Draco’s fingers tightened on his hip and he made that little noise, the one he always did just as he began to come. And it was enough to drag Harry along with him. Hot pleasure that started low in his abdomen spread throughout his body at speed, leaving him tingling all over and gasping, his hands fisting the sheets furiously.

The pair lay close for a while afterwards, and Harry wondered if he’d ever felt so languidly content before. He also wondered why the bloody hell it had taken him so long to give in to that.

“I don’t know,” Draco said, and then Harry realised he’d spoken aloud. “All I know it was fucking fantastic. Harry- I know why you were worried about this. And it was nothing like it was that time, OK? This was a million times better. Because it really was you this time.” Harry’s heart soared. He tilted his head and greedily accepted Draco’s kiss. He threaded his fingers into Draco’s hair, which was damp from sweat, and gripped tightly, thinking the whole time, Love you. Love you, Draco. He then felt a huge tightening in his stomach which took his breath away momentarily, and when he touched it he discovered it was rock hard. Draco had noticed too, and looked alarmed.

“Don’t panic,” Harry said. “It’s happened before. It’s just one of those Braxton something-or-others. Just uterine practice contractions, according to Healer Moore. And apparently it’s normal after er, you know, having an, um, yeah.”

“An orgasm?” Draco teased, eyebrow raised, and looking far too pleased with himself. Harry reddened and nodded. “You can say the word, you know. I love how you’re so coy about things at times. It’s really cute.”

“I am not ‘cute’,” Harry protested. And then yawned. In a way that was possibly a little bit cute. Draco laughed and Harry scowled.

Sheer overwhelming exhaustion overtook Harry then, and his eyelids fell, heavy and unmoving, over his eyes. He snuggled back against Draco’s chest, and sighed contentedly. He heard Draco muttering something to him, but he hardly heard the words. Within minutes he’d fallen into a deep sleep.

                                                                                                *

Andromeda arrived by Floo with Teddy in tow just after breakfast the following morning. She set Teddy down on his very wobbly legs and beamed proudly as the boy toddled precariously towards Harry’s outstretched arms. Harry looked up in amazement as Teddy reached him, laughing.

“He learnt last week,” Andromeda said. “I kept it as a surprise for you.”

“Har!” Teddy said, before falling onto his bottom.

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s my name. Good job, Teddy,” Harry said. “And look at you walking! You’re my clever little man, aren’t you?”

“Ball,” Teddy replied, reaching for Draco’s glass sphere ornament, which he quickly pulled out of the boy’s reach, resulting in tears.

“Look, Teddy, chocolate biscuit!” Harry said hastily, grabbing the packet of the few biscuits that had survived Ron’s onslaught the previous day, and the tears immediately stopped.

“Bib bib!” Teddy shouted, reaching for the biscuit in Harry’s hands, glass ornament completely forgotten about.

“Bis-cuit, that’s right, Teddy,” Harry repeated, slowly. “Now come and sit on my knee whilst you eat that. Don’t walk around with food in your mouth, you’ll choke.” He looked over to Draco and Andromeda, who were both smirking at him in a look that could only be described as some sort of Black family trait for its resemblance. “What?”

“You’re going to be a natural father, Harry,” Andromeda said kindly. “You’re brilliant with him, you know?”

Once Teddy had gone down for his nap and Draco had made tea, he enquired after his mother.

“She’s fine, Draco,” Andromeda said. “The falling out between you and Lucius has really upset her though. She’s not taking sides but I know she was far angrier about that article in the Prophet than she let on to you. She came and stayed with me for a few days again, until Lucius turned up, begging. It was rather pathetic, if truth be told. She’s made it quite clear, however, that she will not tolerate anything else against you. And after what she did to Theodore Nott, your father clearly has heeded her warning.”

Both Harry and Draco stared at her, and Harry was quite sure that Draco’s rounded eyes of shock mirrored his own.

“What did Mother do to Nott?” he asked, and his voice was low, with that dangerous tone to it that never failed to make the hairs on Harry’s arms stand on end. Andromeda stared back, then suddenly realised what she’d aid and threw a hand over her mouth.

“It’s nothing,” she lied. She had stared at her fingernails for a long time now, without looking at either Draco or Harry.

“Aunt…”

Andromeda sighed. “OK. But please, don’t tell your mother I told you. She sent Nott a letter a few weeks ago, asking to meet him. He snuck out of the castle and met her in the Forbidden Forest. Your mother Stunned him and placed a type of Memory Charm on him, meaning that, whilst he usually remembers everything normally, if at any point he tries to either attack you or Harry, or attempts to plan such an attack with others, the curse kicks in causing him to temporarily forget both of your existences. It’s impossible for him to plot against you. It’s an extremely Dark and highly illegal curse. I guess this is why she didn’t want you to know.”

Well, thought Harry, that certainly explains why Nott has been so quiet. But as much as Harry disliked the spell, he couldn’t bring himself to object to the use. Narcissa had proven, almost exactly one year ago to the day, that she would do anything- even lie to the Dark Lord- in order to save her son. She would certainly do this. And, if Harry was honest with himself, he would have no problems doing it to protect his own child, either. He looked at Draco and could tell, by his expression, that he felt exactly the same.

“Good,” Draco said. “Bastard deserves it.”

The rest of the day passed quietly, but Harry noticed that, as the hours ticked down, he was becoming incredibly restless, as was Andromeda. This time last year I was breaking out of Gringotts on that dragon… right about now we were right here, in Hogsmeade, setting off that awful Caterwauling Charm….Snape and McGonagall duelled this time last year…

As midnight approached- the time the Battle of Hogwarts had begun- Andromeda began to weep softly.

“I’m sorry,” she said through raspy breathing. “I think I shall retire now, if it’s all the same to you boys.”

“You need sleep too,” Draco said gently to Harry. “You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

They made their way up to bed, and changed in near silence. Draco especially, Harry noticed, was uncharacteristically quiet. They climbed into bed, and Harry gave Draco a kiss, which wasn’t returned with its usual enthusiasm.

“I wish I was on the right side to begin with,” he all but whispered. “I wish I had had the courage you did.” His fingers traced the outline of the Dark Mark. It had faded somewhat in the last year, but it was still noticeable. Harry stared at fingers, long, and lean, and trembling slightly.

In the distance Harry heard the chiming of the clock in the centre of Hogsmeade. Midnight. He squeezed Draco’s hand tightly.

“You were on the right side in the end,” Harry reassured, swallowing the lump in his throat. He reached over and picked up Draco’s wand. The length of hawthorn felt familiar and warm in his hand. “I would have lost without you. Thank you.”

He eventually fell asleep with Draco in his arms, but rest was troubled. His dreams were plagued with green light, and cruel laughter, and wide, unseeing eyes. He woke in a sweat around four in the morning after a particularly harrowing scene involving Rookwood and Fred, and got up to use the loo.

As much as he tried, he couldn’t return to sleep so went downstairs and put the kettle on the Aga to boil. He was sipping his tea when he was joined by Andromeda looking about as rested as he did, who helped herself to a cup from the teapot. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall, and realised with a jolt it was the exact time that Voldemort had been defeated. It had been exactly one year. He blinked rapidly and found his eyelashes were wet.

“It’ll all be over in a few hours,” he said, staring out of his kitchen window at the early morning dawn just beginning to break, and wondered if he was trying to reassure Andromeda or himself. “And then I can enjoy a couple of weeks’ peace and quiet, and get ready for the baby. I think I’ll have earned the rest.”

But he was Harry Potter. Events never turned out how he thought they were going to. And as he sat in his darkened kitchen, sipping tea and worrying about the upcoming anniversary events, he was totally unaware that those would be the least of his problems. And that in just a few short hours his life would be changed forever.
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Expecting the Unexpected