Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Crap! #2	By : blastendedskrewt Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 32233 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in Harry Potter's universe and make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
Author’s Note:

Thanks for all the reads and reviews! (Sorry if you tried to rate, which I DO appreciate, by the way— apparently that feature has been partially disabled, as I’ve been told by various sources, and it only works sometimes-- not sure why, but, shit happens… Such is life…)

Anyway, I am most grateful to all those that have bravely spoken up during this long, strange squicky trip and most especially to those that have taken the time to repeatedly comment on various chapters, especially you suicidein_angeleyesand vampirekisses! I can only hope to have captured the interest of a few others (if the hit-rate is anything to go by), even if you are shy— it makes me happy that people have read my carefully crafted words.

My only warning is that there is no actual scat-smut in this one, only brief mentions (if that’s what you’re after, I suggest going back to a particular previous chapter that captured your fancy and enjoy that :) This is simply a somewhat sappy wipe—uh, WRAP up—of Epic-Log proportions…

I thank you all for being strong-of-stomach enough by making it this far and urge you to enjoy this last little bit with me. :)

)*(

Epilogue (done digesting, time to dump)

The Thirty-first of October, 2009:

Harry kept his eyes closed as he ascended into consciousness and did a quick internal evaluation, squirming slightly; from the feel of it, the bones that had been shattered in his left leg had been regrown while he was unconscious. The mangled, pulverized tendons and muscle tissue surrounding them were still tender and sore, but mending. He could smell the crushed marigold-petal poultice that was a soggy lump on his thigh. Any other superficial cuts, scrapes and bruises he’d sustained didn’t concern him in the least.

He remembered the attack in detail, and then Ron getting him to St. Mungo’s before he passed out from the pain. He was tired. He’d had enough. He was too attractive a target for the criminals they hunted— everyone wanted the glory of taking him down, causing him to be pursued relentlessly, more so than any other Auror (and his “saving people thing” wouldn’t allow any spells to hit his best friend, so the other half of the time found him jumping in front of those curses meant for his partner— his god-kids needed their father after all!).

He didn’t regret any second of his career, but he was done. He had too much to live for. And his Beloved deserved better than constant fear.

Harry sighed and his lids fluttered open. He was unsurprised to see Draco staring down at him, radiating a complex mixture of relief, anxiety, exasperation and love from his worry- worn features. Silver eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring, the Healer opened his mouth to vent the-- now typical-- tirade on the tip of his tongue that Harry had come to expect after each of these instances he was injured.

But the weary brunet cut him off. “Save it, Love. I know. It’s over. I’m retiring.”

The beatific beaming smile that graced his Soul-Mate’s face was precious. The soon-to-be-ex-Auror reached a shaky hand to caress his tear-tracked alabaster cheek.

“Toots, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and its time,” he confessed, his strength sapped from his limbs as his arm flopped back down by his side. “And since major life events seem to happen to me on Halloween— Hell, I was most likely conceived on Halloween-- it just seems right.” He shook his shaggy head, “I can’t keep putting us through this. And I don’t want to…”

Draco barely restrained himself from squeezing too hard in the grateful, enthusiastic embrace he flung around his recovering Bonded.

_)*(_

The Eighth of December, 2009:

Harry had resigned from the Auror department as soon as he was released from the hospital, five days after his admission on All Hallows’ Eve. He immediately held an interview with Luna to explain to the Wizarding world he wanted a more peaceful life, would still work for the betterment of their culture but thought he deserved a break from constantly being in the line of fire.

The usual reiterations went through the various publications that picked up The Quibbler’s original story-- and of course, set off a few people to angrily grumble though the overwhelming majority couldn’t fault him after all he’d done for them. The press and community went into its usual frenzy of commentary (both positive and negative), wild speculation and general slander but eventually quieted.

As he had convalesced and healed completely behind their safe wards at home a few days later—save for a bit of leftover arthritic stiffness in his hip-- now, after five weeks, he was going stir-crazy. He wasn’t sure what the next step for him would be. Everyone else still had their jobs, and Harry did not begrudge them for that, but it made for long, boring days filled with a whole lot of nothing.

There were only so many hours that he could spend flying (his recuperated leg couldn’t tolerate more than a few hours at a time). Catching up on reading (Hermione’s suggestion, of course) never did hold his interest very well. His charity Phoenix Friends only wanted him for appearances at fund-raisers, so that didn’t help pass much time either.

He’d listlessly gone through their movie collection and wasn’t finding the daily television broadcasts particularly gripping. The cleaning and taking care of the house, garden, property and wards had all been done and kept up to date— there was no point in polishing silver that was already spotless and gleaming. (Doddy and Dibby were inconsolable when they arrived for their bi-monthly visits.) And speaking of polishing, masturbation could only entertain him a fraction of the time he had to spend alone.

He often wandered the halls of their home aimlessly, feeling lost. He’d even begun to drink earlier and earlier in the day.

What he needed was a hobby or job— and since the DADA post was now filled permanently (apparently the “curse” on the position had been lifted with the death of Voldemort), that avenue was out. But it had to be meaningful, challenging. And help people, he supposed. A pet project that he could throw his all into and feel fulfilled by. Perhaps get a pet? He snorted at the thought. That wouldn’t be enough. Although maybe, since he was just pissing away his time being a home-maker at the moment…

Maybe…

Maybe this was the right time to start their family?

YES!!

The revelation blinded him like a well-placed ‘Conjunctivitus’ curse and deafened him as if a ‘Sonorus’-charged voice had boomed, yelling directly into his ears. The clarity of split-second enlightenment hit him figuratively like the Muggle saying, “a ton of bricks”; his jellyed-legs literally staggered a bit under the gravity and weight of his life-altering decision.

They always vaguely talked about taking Luna up on her offer of surrogacy when the subject of the future or family came up— the couple both wanted a child or children in their lives— they just left it to the nebulous concept of “one day” making the dream come true, when they weren’t so busy with their demanding professions…

Well, NOWwas bloody “someday”, wasn’t it?!

(Then he wondered, Why haven’t I thought of this sooner?)

For the rest of the afternoon, the brunet couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. Harry prepared the blond’s favourites for dinner with loving care and he brought up the idea over the special meal; while he stammered over his reasons why the proposition should be considered, Draco did three very uncharacteristic things in quick succession:

He gasped at the excitement and sincerity on his Bonded’s face and uncouthly choked on his own spit. Then he squealed like a little girl (he still maintains, to this day, that it was simply a “throat noise” caused by his surprise and respiratory distress). And lastly, as he enthusiastically flung himself into Harry’s arms, he upset the table with his hip and spilled all the food and drink-- spattering all over the floor and adjacent wall-- with a complete lack of aristocratic grace. (Draco made his spouse swear to secrecy, forbidden to reveal it to his mother and punishable by never getting another blow-job again.)

The Healer had to admit to himself that he had become increasingly disturbed with his lover’s behaviour since his return to health; he had been withdrawn at the best of times, morose at the worst. (No, scratch that: the neediness and clingy-ness was the worst!) He fretted that the ex-Auror was slipping into a depression as he adapted to a life without adrenaline and a mission. The dynamic man he knew and loved had dulled, lost his spark— and even though he didn’t agree, he could see how Harry might feel as if his life lacked meaning.

But tonight, seeing the light come alive in those vibrant green eyes again, sparkling with a passion once more-- that clinched it. It really was the perfect time!

It was music to his ears when Harry laughed with easy contentment and free abandon as Draco pulled him towards the Floo (he didn’t know that what was most entertaining his Soul-Mate was the fact that the usually composed Pure-Blood was acting like he couldn’t wait one more second and was dragging him by the wrist like an overeager seven-year-old to the tree on Christmas morning).

Draco wasted no time and started brewing the advanced fertility potions the second they brought their heads out of the hearth they used to call to Luna. Four days later, the two men had fun procuring the cup of cum-cocktail used to inseminate her and everyone was extremely pleased when it was determined that it stuck on the first try.

Harry spent the next nine months nesting.

For his first order of business, he supervised a construction crew to build a shed out back to hold all the junk from the spare room so they could use it for the baby. He shopped for furniture, clothes, toys and blankets in neutral color schemes since they wouldn’t know the gender for a few weeks. Money was no object. The nursery was prepared within the first month and it amused Draco to no end how infused with energy and overzealous Harry was being with his project.

At one of the first of many prenatal Healer visits, they learned they were to have not one, not two, but three children! (When Harry remarked that Draco really knew what he was doing with the fertility potions, the Healer replied dryly, “Was there ever any doubt?”) As soon as they could determine the genders several weeks later, Harry added more infant accoutrements to the nursery and they began to bounce around names.

And, most importantly, Harry spent the majority of his time reading all the pregnancy and child-care books Hermione foisted on him, both Magical and Muggle.

He became the model pupil she always hoped he’d be at school; no one really knew how much he needed to learn about proper child-rearing and how desperate he was to get it right. (Only Draco had the closest clue as to why his lover was so adamant in his studies, and approved of his fervent research, demanding he relay all he learned-- they would both need this knowledge with the two of them coming from atypical home-lives, deficient in certain critical and crucial ways.)

_)*(_

The Sixteenth of August, 2010:

The triplets (or as Ron jokingly referred to them as, “the litter”) were born slightly early but all healthy. Luna and Rolf made use of the guest room for the first six months of James Sirius Potter, Scorpius Severus Malfoy and Cassiopeia Lily Malfoy’s lives. There really had been no need for paternity tests even though they did them anyway; there was no doubt that James was Harry’s, with a thick mop of dark hair and green-blue eyes while the other two had the unmistakable fine, pale colouring of Draco and Luna.

_)*(_

The Thirty-first of August, 2021:

“This is about more than just the kids leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow, isn’t it,” Harry said, not in question, but stated with a sigh. He watched Draco’s peevish, stiff movements as he undressed for bed. “You don’t agree with what I suggested to Cassie…”

The Healer huffed and turned towards his spouse after he crossly yanked a T-shirt over his head. Harry had to stifle an amused smirk of amazement that would most certainly be misinterpreted in his current mood; the blond’s hair was still perfectly in place despite the rough rub of clearing the neck-hole (How did Draco do that? His own locks sprigged up in every direction the second the comb was through them!). “You sounded like you were encouraging her!” Draco accused.

Harry rolled his eyes and patted the bed for his lover to get in beside him; the Healer complied, but sat tersely against the headboard. “I would expect you of all people to spot a self-serving strategy, Mr. Slytherin Prince.” Before he could retort, Harry continued, “She’s going to be the way she is no matter what. I’d rather give her a healthier option.”

The blond remained silent, contemplating the conversation they had just shared with their daughter:

After bundling the excited, boisterous boys into bed (with the dads being only slightly clingier and sappier than usual, trying to keep things nonchalant but failing due to the magnitude of the family being separated for a good part of the year), they urged the youngsters to get some sleep for the momentous day tomorrow. Then they made their way to Cassie’s room, both troubled by how quiet and withdrawn she had become during the celebration dinner they had thrown-- she’d started out in high spirits but by the end, she looked haunted and barely touched her dessert from the ‘build-your-own-sundae’ bar they’d set up on the sideboard.

Over the delicious feast, the grown-ups had all regaled the gathering with tales of their own school days, focusing on the good times, the classes they attended and laughing about dorm life. Hugo and Rose chimed in, showing how some things remained the same and how others were different now.

Naturally, the majority of the stories were of a Gryffindor flavour (teasingly aimed at Jamie, whose stubborn personality from a very early age had been labeled by his extended family as ‘Indubitably one of the brash Lions’). As the most athletic and daring of the triplets, James had especially loved the retelling of Daddy-Harry flying on the back of Buckbeak; everybody chuckled when Papa-Draco murmured, that yes, he could attest to the fact that, “Hippogryphs are indeed very proud creatures… You should exercise caution.”

Rolf lent his Hufflepuff experience for the benefit of his and Luna’s older kids, Terra and Sol, who had a few years to wait yet (and possibly Scorpius— his traits could fit any House’s description, so no one was sure where he’d land); their infant twins Lorcan and Lysander couldn’t understand anything yet but gurgled in glee at the festive atmosphere. Everyone else at the table was fascinated, having never heard much insider information about the House of the Badger.

Luna and Rose spoke of Ravenclaw, directing most of their comments towards Cassiopeia; over the years, as their daughter learned and grew, it seemed so clear she was destined for her mother’s House that they would all be utterly shocked if she was Sorted elsewhere. It was when they were describing the features of where they lived, worked and played that Cassie had paled— most importantly, when Mama-Luna fondly recounted her love of the washroom with its Jacuzzi-like tubs across from the line of toilet stalls and instead of sinks there was a grand multi-spigot fountain in the center, flowing constantly with cool, clear water (but warm if you knew the correct spell).

Draco had noticed the change in his little girl’s demeanor but dismissed it as anxiety about leaving home. Harry had a pretty good idea of what was bothering her, so when they stepped into her (overly pink and yellow floral-patterned) room to talk about it before saying goodnight, he led the conversation.

“You got awfully quiet at dinner, Sweet Pea,” he started in a soothing tone, “Are you nervous about going away to school? It’s OK if you are. It’s a big change…” Both the dads sat down on the bed on either side of her and each took a tiny hand in theirs. Their daughter frowned at her lap and shook her head in an ambiguous ‘no’ gesture.

Harry tried to affect an airy sense of whimsy and stretched his legs out on the bed, crossing his socked-feet at the ankles. “It’s going to be a great adventure, you know,” he said, leaning in like he was sharing a wonderful secret. “Just think-- you will be like all those beautiful story-book princesses in a castle tower! Except you will be free to come and go as you wish, allowed to learn everything you want and get to read every book in the library. The Common Room of Ravenclaw is beautiful— all blue and silver tapestries rising up to the top, glittering in the sun. A room fit for royalty!”

The timorous girl just shook her head again, tossing her blonde ringlets to and fro.

Draco sniggered, “When did you see their Common Room? When you were dating Cho?” Cassie suddenly looked expectantly from her Papa to her Daddy, having never heard about them in other romantic relationships and interested in something juicy that would take her worries away from her present conundrum.

Harry twitched under the dual gaze of grey-blue and silver. He couldn’t and wouldn’t lie to them; they were both too clever and would see right through it. Plus, that would make matters worse and derail the current discussion. “No, it was…” he answered slowly, sounding strangled and gave his spouse a sharp look before he whispered through gritted teeth, “right before The Fire.”

Cassiopeia looked nonplussed but didn’t miss the way Papa’s face went rigid and his body stiffened (the way it always did if the triplets asked questions regarding The War). She knew they wouldn’t say any more about it, and frankly, she didn’t care— she had a more pressing problem at the moment. It made her feel a little better, almost enough to laugh even, when her normally stoic Papa babbled in a high-pitched voice, “Riddles! You like riddles!” His white-blond hair whipped around his uncharacteristically flushed face, “You get a new one to solve every time you need to enter!”

The brunet recovered better and resumed his inquiry in a calm manner, “You can owl us at any time and you’ll have Rose if you need immediate help. Well, you’ll have her, Hugo and Uncle Neville there for you no matter where you are Sorted. Is that what’s wrong? Do you think we’d be disappointed in you if you go to another House?”

Before she could reply, Draco cut in quickly, “Because that is definitely NOT the case! We don’t care, they are all fine Houses! We’ve just been guessing with the way you are so smart and like learning.”

Harry almost snorted at the way his lover relaxed instantly, thinking they had sorted out the problem. But he nodded in agreement encouragingly, “It is true, Sweet Pea. We only want you to be happy and get a great education. Oh, and sometimes put the books down have some fun too,” he teased and tickled a finger in her tummy. He paused seeing a flicker of a smile and steered the conversation in the direction he needed to, “That swimming pool sounds fun— I never knew Ravenclaw had an indoor pool between the girls’ and boys’ bathrooms. Seriously, a pool on the basement floor of a tower!”

Draco, it appeared, hadn’t noticed their daughter’s blush or tremor at the mention of the loos and continued on, keeping up the light-hearted banter. “Rowena was an avid swimmer and she’s the one who forged The Accord with the Merpeople. It’s in ‘Hogwarts, A History’. Honestly, didn’t you ever read it, Oh-Mighty-Gryffindor?” he shot at Harry in good-humour, and then turned to their pensive girl, “YOU did,” he said proudly. “How many times was it? Six? Seven?” He kissed her temple in pride and approval when she meekly told them “Eight”.

“Yeah, well, I guess Hermione didn’t think it was one of the more interesting or important facts to regurgitate at us…” Harry mumbled. He was concentrating more on Cassie. She still seemed to be fighting an internal battle of what to tell and what to keep secret.

Harry flailed wildly on how to bring the thread of conversation back around to the problem at hand, but settled on a ‘Do what you know’ approach (his previous Auror interrogation training coming in handy at the moment). “The girls have fun in Gryffindor too, tricking boys into trying their dormitory stairs only to have the steps collapse into a slide they slip down. I wouldn’t mind having that sort of protection in place for you, Precious… to keep all those nasty little boys away from your bedroom,” (and then he went in for the kill), “and spying on you in thegirls’ bathroom…”

That broke her.

“I want to be in Slytherin!!” Cassie suddenly screamed, screeching in the most terrible Banshee-tone from the bottom of her diaphragm. Draco started at the loud, anguished noise so badly he almost fell off the bed, but then his face broke out in a wide grin. Harry was sorry he was going to have to wipe it off his face.

Harry blinked, feigning surprise, “I never knew that, Sweet Pea. What makes you choose there?” She had never mentioned it before and he had a pretty good idea why. He wasn’t wrong.

“I want to go to Hogwarts, I DO, but I don’t want to share a bathroom with anyone!” She yelled emphatically, blinking back frustrated tears and pounded their conjoined fists in the mattress by her sides. Draco just looked confused until she whined beseechingly up at both of them, “Papa said he always had a private room and loo! That’s what I want! In Slytherin I can have that, so that’s where I want to go.”

Now Draco looked frustrated, pursing his lips before he began, “Honey, I told you, the singles were only for Prefects and upperclassmen,” he raised his hands to quell her rebuttal that he’d had one since his first year. “My father was on the Board of Governors. He pulled strings that we can’t.” He hated to disappoint his daughter but he couldn’t give her special treatment over their boys. He also didn’t want to indulge possible neuroses. “My father… had certain… ideas… about what it meant to be a Malfoy and many of those ended up not being in my best interest.”

It broke his heart at how crestfallen his baby-girl looked but he knew this was the right thing to do. He would sell her the camaraderie aspect of shared housing (and never, ever let her know that he would not have traded possessing a private WC for anything in the world).

“It set me up as a snob and apart from everyone else. I missed out. The mates you make when you bunk together you’ll have for the rest of your life— Like Daddy’s friends. I don’t even speak to any of my Housemates, not since we left school, and that’s sad.” He jostled her shoulder softly, then lovingly petted her golden curls and looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t want you to be as isolated and lonely as I was. Do you understand?” he implored, willing her to comprehend this truth.

The raw, vulnerable emotion in Draco’s timbre and rare display of tender affection made Harry’s heart clench.

Cassie sniffled and nodded, her chin trembling. She seemed so deflated, as if resigned to fate worse than death. To her (and Draco as well, if he was honest with himself), it almost was; it made them both cringe to think of having to urinate-- and especially defecate—with others nearby. He suddenly realized she must be just like him! Both dads had tried to raise their kids with the concept that elimination was a natural thing, but Cassie had always been shy and quiet about her bathroom habits; she had taken upon herself to keep it under wraps, so secret and unspoken. He loved that about her but it also worried him, now.

Having no experience with sharing a public restroom, he announced on false authority, “It’s not so bad. Everyone has to use the toilet and bathe. You’re all in the same boat.” He tried to sound light-hearted and confident. He really hoped he succeeded.

“Papa’s right, Little One,” Harry interjected. “But if you’re really worried about it, there are things you can do to get around it.” The brunet ignored the Healer’s scowl. “I was reluctant to poo when others were around, too. I didn’t care so much about peeing because it doesn’t stink so much,” (the ex-Auror was pleased to see her nodding, agreeing— that would have posed a much bigger dilemma due to the frequency of need) “but I figured out times when the loos were empty, like late at night, or early morning.”

The two fathers were glad she seemed to relax and look a bit more accepting. “You tend to wake early,” Daddy-Harry gently prodded, “maybe you can go and be done before your roommates get up? No matter where you are Sorted?”

They talked quietly some more, immensely relieved when their daughter’s initial enthusiasm for finally getting to go to Hogwarts returned. After they said their “goodnights” and “I love you’s” and shut the door, Draco’s kindly mask fell and he let Harry know he was upset…

“—and Jamie!” Harry had been talking while they settled into bed and the blond had to shake his head from his memory of the evening in order to concentrate on the current subject at hand. The brunet continued undeterred, seemingly clueless on his lover’s previous waning attention, “He doesn’t give a damn about it! Hell, he still calls Scorpius in to witness a particularly huge dump!”

Draco rolled his eyes at the crass behaviour of their eldest son, “I’m sorry, what are you on about? I was just thinking over our talk with Cassie.”

Harry smiled at him-- he knew the former-Slytherin had been picking through the nuances of the discussion, analyzing it, trying to assess the value or refute the veracity of Harry’s advice. “I was saying-- I think some people are just naturally shameful-shitters and some are shameless. I treated them all the same during toilet-training and they all turned out different.”

It was true. All three of their children were reared in the same environment, with Harry being their primary caregiver and Draco being present when he could, following his partner’s lead, determined to provide a united front.

It was a time full of positive reinforcement-- complete with charts and charmed, colorful stickers for successes. And most noticeably, free of ridicule. They’d done everything the manuals had suggested, except for instituting an “open door” policy in which the parents left the bathroom door open any and every time they had to go and modeled the use of a toilet; they’d both instantly and unanimously shot that method down. Draco was actually appalled that some so-called accredited and licensed professional even suggested it-- Harry had understood the theory behind it, but, even as a certified courageous Gryffindor, he could not find it in himself to brave it.

(Harry, for some perverse reason, had to ask Hermione if they had done that particular element of instruction. She’d blushed and said she hadn’t but Ron had. Harry smirked and snickered when Draco grimaced in disgust and turned away rubbing his temples, muttering what sounded suspiciously like a desperate mantra of “Obliviate me now, obliviate me now!”)

The Soul-Bonded couple let the triplets proceed at their own paces, no deadlines, no scorn-- and certainly no pitting the others’ successes against each other. James held out the longest, resisting his own little potty and had quite articulately declared his preference for diapers for a long time. Scorpius approached his designated baby-bog with his usual “middle-of-the-road” easy attitude, willing to try it but not overly concerned if he had an accident here or there in the process. Cassiopeia was the first to master her excretory functions as if she couldn’t achieve it fast enough; any set-back she took overly personal and became distraught, no matter how much they reassured her she was doing just fine.

At the time, they thought it might be due to her perfectionism she held for anything new she learned, or perhaps, it was simply her fascination with the pretty “big-girl” panties Molly had bought for her— but wouldn’t get until she was reliably out of nappies.

Now they weren’t so sure. They both had doubts they needed to discuss…

“Do you think this has to do with her being the only girl in a house of all males? Do you think she needed more exposure to female role-models?” Harry’s voice quavered with crippling insecurity over whether or not he’d been an effective parent. “Were we wrong to give her the old guest room with her own bathroom? Should we have kept them all together made the hall bathroom the kids loo instead of just the boys’ loo?”

“No, no,” Draco waved a dismissive hand and leaned closer, shoulder to shoulder. “She’s had her mother, Hermione, Rose and both grandmothers in her life. And Cassie would have asked for the room as soon as she was able, wanting peace and quiet to read and study. And how could we justify keeping an empty room and make her stay with the rambunctious boys? Especially when Mother insisted her only granddaughter have her own suite at the Manor when she visits? When they began walking and talking, Mother was adamant it was improper and un-ladylike for her to be sleeping in the same room with boys.”

The frowning brunet quirked a suspicious eyebrow, “Do you think Narcissa has had anything to do with making her feel overly fussy or ashamed of her bodily waste?”

“Nothing explicit… I know she encourages her “little princess” behavior, but so does Molly. It’s a matriarch-thing, getting all gushy over cute little dresses and such. We’re guilty of it too… but Cassie has always liked to be fancy and put ribbons in her hair. Molly’s told me on several occasions how lovely it is since she missed out on all the girly stuff with Ginevra, who never took to the frilly things…”

Harry snorted mirthlessly, imagining his unofficial-adoptive mom, excited to finally have a daughter to dote on and getting the irascible, stubborn tom-boy that Ginny had always been. “I suppose… but how do you know your mother didn’t say or do something?”

“Because I asked her flat out after the Crete incident,” Draco stated firmly. “She was so angry with me that I brought up such a ghastly subject!” the blond shook his head, smiling faintly at the memory; putting Narcissa Malfoy on the spot and wrong-footed like that was never a good idea. Most people been hexed for far less.

“Mother wouldn’t dignify me with an answer until I pressed and insisted,” he continued. “She snapped that,” (and here Draco did a fairly horrible impression of the aristocratic witch in a really bad falsetto): ‘Cassiopeia Lily has always conducted herself politely and privately,’ and ‘I have never had an occasion to discuss anything of the sort with her!’ Reverting to his regular voice, Draco added, “Mother didn’t speak to me for a month after that, and then showed up at our next spa day as if nothing ever happened…”

Harry chuckled, imagining the prim Lady being embarrassed and incensed over having to answer such base questions, never considering that it would be a legitimate concern and topic for typical parents to talk about (especially after their family holiday to Greece). “I’m glad you asked her,” the laughter still in his throat, “I wish I could have seen that!”

The blond snorted and leaned towards his spouse, “Trust me, it wasn’t pleasant… and since she denied it, and I verified it with some subtle hints of Legilmancy, I figured it was just an isolated incident, simply a mal-adjustment to traveling away from home and a delicate system eating foreign food. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Yeah, I never noticed it much before then,” Harry agreed, glad his lover was softening and open to talking things through, “but that was the only time we all stayed in the same room with one shared bathroom.”

It was true.

All the other times they had extended vacations, the family had the many rooms of the Malfoy villas in France, Italy and the mainland of Greece at their disposal. But on Crete, they were staying in a hotel and the kids were only five, not ready to have their own rooms apart from their dads. Cassie had steadily gotten more and more ill over the week and by the end of their stay both parents were terrified by how sick she had gotten; both men shuddered in remembrance of the ordeal and snuggled together in the bed, clinging to each other for support.

“Do you recall how she wailed in abject humiliation, not wanting to tell us what was wrong?” Harry asked softly. (He wanted to add, “Not even me,” but held back, not wanting to rub it in that he thought himself closer to their kids having been ‘the mother’ throughout their childhoods.)

The blond added, equally gently, “And how bitterly she wept for days, sulking in her room after we got back and I had diagnosed and treated her? She was so ambivalent about the laxative and probiotic potions I made her take for some time after-- I thought she was resistant from the taste, but complied so she would not feel so awful again, but was she just embarrassed about what it signified? Shining a ‘Lumos Maxima’ on what she didn’t want us to think about or know?”

The brunet looked thoughtful as he replied, “Looking back, you probably didn’t notice so much since you’d go to the hospital for work, but after the weekends Molly and Arthur took the kids for us? Sweet Pea always made a bee-line to her room and stayed there for hours at a time, her little “Do Not Disturb, Boys Keep Out” sign hung on her door. I figured she was craving silence and solitude after all the bustle and noise of The Burrow, but was she holding her crap in the whole time, like I used to do in the tent on stake-outs? You know it’s a free-for-all to get to use the two restrooms they’ve got there. And no real privacy, whatsoever—any time you go in one, there is someone waiting to go in right after you.”

“Well, it is possible,” Draco weighed the new evidence and then conceded, “Probable even.” He cleared his throat voiced his newest, uncomfortable thought, “Do you think we did wrong by her, by being so discreet about our own bathroom habits? We never discouraged the boys like our own childhood traumas, but we weren’t exactly advertising that we poop too… And she’s always been the most precocious and perceptive of the three. Do you think she consciously or subconsciously picked up on our discomfort about being completely open with it ourselves?”

“I don’t know, Toots. She is a girl in a house full of males. She’s always been fastidious and had the “little princess syndrome” personality— Shit, she never even liked Play-dough because it got her hands messy! Like I was saying before, some people are just naturally shameful or shameless, or indifferent, I suppose. It seems a rather innate quality in most cases.”

Harry continued, defending his decision, “And I gave her the idea, like I did in school, to find times when the bathrooms were empty. I didn’t want her to get so badly impacted like Crete again and be too mortified to go to the infirmary for help from a stranger. I mean, think about it-- if you had to use a stall every time you shat? With the prospect of someone coming by, only centimeters away, at any time? And them being able to see your shoes and know it’s you in there, farting and plopping, stinking up the place?”

Draco took only a moment to mull it over and nodded, “Yeah, put that way, it makes sense. I guess I’ve been aware of it in an abstract concept kind of way, but I never really considered the actual reality of public bathrooms all the time. I’ve always had options for complete privacy…” the blond violently shuddered, the weight and gravity of being in that situation day in day out hitting him. “Fuck!” he screeched, actually dry-heaving a bit. How did anyone stand it?! He’d be a wreck and refuse to evacuate his bowels too! Especially if he didn’t have access to silencing and no-smell spells!

Harry laughed at the horror and revulsion on his Bonded’s face as he could see his imagination take him through that scenario. He laughed as he answered that traumatic revelation with a simple, “Exactly.”

“You were right,” Draco sighed, nestling his head on Harry even heavier.

“HA!” the brunet ejaculated in triumphant victory, dislodging his lover as he bolted up straight. “Call the Prophet! Draco Malfoy admits his handsome, talented and beloved spouse is right!”

“Euuuhhhh,” the Healer made an ‘Oh shut it, you Git!’-meaning grunt with his tongue hanging half-way out his slack jaw (a completely juvenile vocalization and gesture that the Pureblood would never have made if he had not been influenced by Harry and the kids over the years). Then, Draco gave him a dazzlingly bright smile and Harry was reminded why he had always been so fulfilled since they had completed their Bonding ceremony. “You know I think you are brilliant and amazing with the kids,” the blond purred, his expression imbued with pure love and adoration-- then added with a hint of randy innuendo and a full-bodied wiggle-- “And everything else you do…”

“It’s just nice to hear,” Harry grinned and kissed the side of the blond’s head that found its way to his shoulder again. “I hope she’ll be ok… I’m going to miss those kids so bloody much! I’m thinking I’ll have to take on several more clients just to keep from going mad by having too much free time on my hands. But I’ll plan only one or two more visits the days you are working so you and I can have the evenings and weekends together.”

Draco let loose a huge yawn, “I’m sure the triplets will be fine. And they’ve got plenty allies at the school to go to if needed… and you, Baby, I’m sure just word of mouth will get you all the added jobs you could want. Who wouldn’t be eager for you to be the one to ward their homes and properties monthly?”

Harry hummed sleepily into is lover’s hairline and slid them down into lying back on their pillows. “And, since we’ll have a lot more time for just the two of us… and all the privacy we want…” the leer in his voice was evident even under the fatigue and strain of the day. “We haven’t played at That for a while…” he mumbled tantalizingly, promising naughty fun in their near future (but he was too tired to do the obligatory eye-brow waggle that should accompany that statement; Draco wouldn’t have even been able to see it in their current position anyway).

Ever since they’d brought the children home, there just wasn’t much time for That. Dealing with three sets of actual baby diapers everyday pretty much quelled that desire at the time and over the last eleven years, they had to account for the fact that they could be interrupted or needed at a moment’s notice; scat-play was much harder to stop once it got going than just normal sex was, though even regular love-making was hard to come by as well from being busy, tired or just not in the mood.

Harry smiled as he was about to drift off. “We can fuck and suck and do whatever the Hell we want in every room in the house again…” He let out jovial laugh-bark of epiphany, “Tootsie, let’s both hold it until after we get back from the platform. I’ll take our old table out of the attic and we can get creative.”

Draco chuckled a breathy sigh of contentment, his eyes fluttering closed and anticipating the next day; indulging in some kinky crap-games would certainly take some of the sting out of sending the children off to school. “Sounds wonderful to me,” he murmured and held onto the muscular chest he’d come to consider his steady anchor when things around him became turbulent, riding the tides of change over the past years-- and thanking any and all deities his Love was still there, solidly by his side.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a sloppy, half-way asleep smirk in his True-Match’s arms, “When we come back to our empty-nest home tomorrow, we’ll give your excellent feast tonight the most perfect and happy ending.”

)*(

Author’s Note:

Well, I must say I’m sad to see this go… It’s been quite a journey and education. I can only hope I’ve done the topic justice…

I mentioned in an earlier chapter, the original story written with Stray was meant to be a oneshot, and written in 2007 and sat mostly done until I polished it and got it up in May of 2009. Then, over a year passed before I decided to continue with the sequence in July of 2010 on my own; I add this last chapter exactly a year later-- to the date— that the second chapter was posted. And the cycle is complete.

Like the lovely and talented JKR (sorry about the horribly squicky things I did to your awesome characters!), there are many parts of this particular universe that exist only in my head; we both have back-stories and tons of details that fill out the rest of the scenario, but they didn’t survive the editing process or ever find an appropriate place to be integrated. The good news is, with me, if you have any questions (or just want to chat or know about anything in particular), you can email me. I added my address for this author name to my profile page.

Also, I must add a disclaimer: I DID NOT invent the terms and concepts of shameful and shameless shitters— that is the property of Dave Praeger and the online community at ‘poopreport.com’ (they frown on any mention of fetishit type stuff, calling the site and keeping it ‘the intellectual appreciation of poop humor’, but they’ve got some seriously funny stories on there!!).

Again, thanks for all the support and coming along with me for this crazy ride! Cheers! :)
- 15
- 16
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Crap! #2