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To Find The Missing Lifeline	By : EvilConcubine Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 37353 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
21. Through The Pain

     It was his day off and Harry wasn't in hurry to wake up, but when he did, it was upsetting to find that he was alone in bed, because he'd already got used to wake up holding Draco in his arms. Or the very first thing to do in the morning was to reach out his hands blindly to the warmth next to him and embrace that warmth sleepily; gently, not to disturb the lover's sleep. Often he woke up with a start even if he felt Draco just shifting in his sleep, let alone getting up. But this time he hadn't. It was almost an afternoon and Harry sighed at the realisation that he'd slept so long instead of spending more time with Draco in his day off. On the other hand, he felt well-rested and content.

     After taking a shower he, following the soft sounds of music, found Draco on the balcony of the sitting room where Draco often sat at the small table in the antique rocking chair made from fine, dark wood. He wasn't allowed to spend much time on foot and he still didn't feel secure outside the house, so sitting on the balcony was his only really comfortable option to get some fresh air, which he enjoyed very much, especially among all these ornamental plants in the ornate, stone flowerpots.

     The blond hadn't noticed him yet, so Harry was just standing at the opened balcony doors, looking at him. Draco was sitting with his back almost turned to him. There was a cup of coffee on the table and a beautiful musical box, which was currently opened. It was full of small musical instruments, such as: cello, piano, harp, violin, little bells and flute. They all were transparent as if they were ghosts of those instruments, if such thing was possible. Despite their size, they sounded like actual instruments. At the moment only the piano played the wonderful music; gentle and relaxing. And Draco looked relaxed. Then Harry saw him smiling slightly and pressing a hand to his tummy.

"Enjoying the music, too, aren't you?" the blond said softly, obviously speaking to their baby, but Harry heard him, even through the said music, and he felt a happy beating inside his chest. He didn't dare to speak and make Draco aware of his presence; he felt quite voyeuristic and only wanted to enjoy the sight without interfering. He certainly didn't require a reminder of how much he was in love, but right now he felt utterly and overwhelmingly aware of this fact.

     There were people in his life that, he thought, were colourful and sunny, like summer. Most Weasleys were like that, a few of his former classmates were like that. But Draco was always a flawless picture of a beautiful melancholy when he was relaxed like this. No wonder he loved autumn, - it was a perfect background for him, especially when the colour of the sky almost matched the colour of his eyes. Harry closed his own eyes for a few seconds and opened them again just to find that right in front of him there was the same picture of the one he wanted to spend his life with. He felt a lovesick, giddy longing that made his heart flutter sweetly. Draco was his... Sometimes he still couldn't believe that they were together after all and he could just allow himself to be happy. It was a pity that he didn't have his magical camera at his hand right now to take another picture of his love, to depict this moment. Lately he'd taken several pictures of him or both of them together. Draco wasn't particularly eager to be a part of it, thinking that he wasn't looking good, but Harry disagreed and had almost convinced him otherwise. And the photographs had turned out very nice, actually. Especially the one where Draco was asleep on the bench in the garden, when Neville, in Harry's absence, had succeeded to drag the stubborn and irritated blond out of the house, which hadn't been easy, because Draco still felt nervous outside, though it had helped a lot that he knew he was protected by the wards that surrounded the house. The drowsiness had eventually overpowered the anxiety and even the annoyance with Neville, so Draco had fallen asleep, lulled by the pacifying sight of Neville, working with the plants, and by the sound of his babbling about said plants and special ways to take care of them properly. When Harry had returned home, he'd found Draco like that, asleep on the bench, while Neville had been still working in the garden, and Harry couldn't help but take a picture.

     Harry was back to reality when, still having no idea about being watched, Draco started to drink coffee and eat the deliciously looking marshmallow. When his cup was almost empty, he turned it upside down on the saucer and then looked inside the cup at the coffee grounds thoughtfully. Harry couldn't help but smile adoringly, full of tender emotions. Draco inclined his head to look from a different perspective. Harry sneaked up to him, unable to keep silence anymore.

"What do you see?" he whispered right into Draco's ear very gently, not to startle him. But he'd done it anyway. Draco flinched, gasped and lowered the cup, which had nearly slipped out of his hands.

"Harry..." he frowned.

"I'm sorry, love," Harry apologised, kissed his cheek and rubbed his tummy soothingly. "So, what do you see?" he smiled. Draco raised his eyebrow.

"I see the Grim," he said with the grave seriousness and misty voice, not unlike Trelawney, even though it was a joke. "Well... I've been caught in the act, haven't I?" he murmured almost shyly.

"Uh-huh," Harry nodded with a smirk on his face and wrapped his arms around the blonde's shoulders, still standing behind his back. "How often do you do it, I wonder?"

"You mean, the tasseomancy sessions? I don't drink much coffee, especially now in my condition; and I don't appreciate leaves in my tea, either. And I'm definitely not a fortune-teller, I assure you," Draco sighed, wishing just to let the useless topic go. The music stopped, as he closed the box.

"But do you see any particular thing in your cup?" Harry kept insisting softly. His smile only widened, however, he knew he was testing Draco's patience.

"You know, I'm under the impression that you're mocking me, which is fraught with serious consequence. No, I don't see anything, Harry, nor am I really trying to. I'm just fooling around, all right?" the blond snarled. "There's no need to make a laughing-stock of me just because you've caught me doing something untypical of me."

"I'm not making fun of you, love. Would you let me try?" the brunet asked, ignoring the angry scowl.

"It's stupid, but go ahead," Draco sighed in surrender and gave Harry his cup. The other youth took it, trying not to pay attention to the annoyance on Draco's face, which, by the way, amused Harry, as he enjoyed his own good-natured banter. He hemmed thoughtfully and knowingly, looking inside the cup. Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head at this.

"I think I can see your future," Harry declared.

"Really? I'm unspeakably intrigued," the blond mumbled.

"I can confidently tell you that everything's going to be just great. You look breathtakingly beautiful with baby in your arms. Oh... There's someone else... Some bloke with two of you, grinning like an idiot. And he thinks he's the happiest idiot in the entire world."

"You're just a charlatan," Draco sneered, turning his face to meet Harry's smiling eyes. "Though, I think, I must agree with the part about idiot," he shrugged.

"Bully," Harry blinked and smiled tenderly. "I think someone has left their sense of humour in their other pants. It's okay, it happens to the best of us," he purred softly, but teasingly. Nevertheless, he decided not to tease Draco anymore. The blond had seemed utterly irritated yesterday and in the end he'd thrown a tantrum, having even less reason than now. He'd felt very sorry about it later, and it had taken an hour or so for Harry to convince him that everything was all right and he'd had no reason to be upset.

     He kissed the blonde's cheek and lips, and the kiss was very eagerly returned.

"Help me to get up, please," Draco asked. The rocking chair was an utterly comfortable piece of furniture to relax, but it was quite problematic for him to get up from it.

"Of course," Harry said. After another kiss he helped his love to stand up on his feet.

"Oh, I'm so big..." the blond complained. Harry shrugged.

"Just some more for me to love," he replied, unmoved by the whining, and kissed the pale neck. "Now be a good boy and go to bed."

     They went to the bedroom and Draco very soon realised that it was exactly the place where he wanted to be right now.

"Come on... Like a nice, sweet prince you are," Harry whispered, helping his a bit tired lover to lie down comfortably.

"Nice and sweet? Are you sure you don't mistake me for some other prince?" Draco murmured softly and quietly, gladly taking the help, though.

"Well, I admit you've been a bit moody lately. I'm sure some massage will make you nicer and... more cooperative. You're always an angel after that, so now I can tell I'm definitely an expert in dealing with peevish princes," Harry smiled. Draco purred his content assent. While Harry was getting ready to give him a massage session, Draco opened his musical box, taken with him, as he placed it on the bedside table. This time there was a portly woman in an old-fashioned dress of the nineteenth century, who was sitting near the transparent harp that started to play the captivating music after the woman had cleared her throat. She was an opera singer and her voice filled the room like an intense light. Harry wondered if she was really just a magical projection or an unusually small ghost, since it was hard to imagine that something completely lifeless could produce such deep and heartfelt sounds. On the other hand, muggle quality sound systems had no life in them, too.

     Draco was in the seventh heaven, enjoying the beautiful music and the touches of Harry's caring hands, which had already learned where and how exactly to rub and press to take away all the strain. The blond was so deeply content that only later he noticed that he'd left the wet spot of saliva on the pillow. This embarrassing discovery made him blush slightly. Harry only smiled at it and kept massaging his already melted beloved. Even if Pomfrey had not recommended Draco to have sex until after delivery and, of course, his subsequent recovery, since he was so exhausted and needed rest and relaxation more than anything else, Harry never deprived him of kisses, hugs and loving touches; on the contrary, he tried to give Draco every attention. Some time ago the massage had already helped to take away all the aches that had been a result of the Cruciatus. Harry also believed that not only such attention pleased Draco and made him feel better, but it was helpful for Harry himself to bond with their baby, and he often touched the blonde's belly, kissed it and even cooed at it sometimes. Harry smiled, remembering the previous day when he'd been reading aloud a randomly chosen fairy-tale with his face near the tummy and his hand pressed to it gently. Draco had fallen asleep like a log in the middle of the tale, but the baby had been still moving slightly from time to time, as if showing Harry that he'd been keeping him company in his own way.

"What?" Draco purred and smiled at him, distracting him from his thoughts.

"Nothing. I'm just happy. Happy because you feel better. And our little one's fine too, isn't he?" Harry kissed his belly, murmuring something, and Draco slightly smiled again. He caressed Harry's hair, looking into his green eyes, adoring them, as always; partly because of the boundless kindness he saw in them, but not the vulnerable type of kindness, - it was strong, caring and protective.

"It's all about the good heredity. He's strong. A fighter; just like you..." Draco said softly.

"And you," Harry added quietly, but insistently. He didn't know what helped him to restrain himself from kissing his beloved madly all over and snogging him into unconsciousness. Instead, he kissed him gently; at the same time, he kept rubbing Draco's back with his oiled hand while Draco was lying perfectly relaxed on his side.

     The next day Pomfrey turned their baby head down again. First days it was very uncomfortable for Draco, as the baby was literally sitting up on his lungs, but then his womb was shifting down gradually, which made it obvious that he wasn't far from giving birth. He was now forced to go to the bathroom far too often, because the baby created an uncomfortable pressure on his bladder. Even these short, but frequent trips seemed to be exhausting; annoying, for sure. Draco felt very heavy and already 'too pregnant'. In addition, he became even quieter, and people of his household often found him thoughtful, with faraway look in his eyes. He seemed very distant at times.

     Only the slight red marks remained after his injuries. True to his word, Severus was healing them to prevent scarring. The only consequence of the Cruciatus that still bothered Draco was an occasional trembling of hands and legs, or just hands, more frequently, but the potions helped, and Madam Pomfrey promised that all the symptoms of the endured torture would go away soon.

     Meanwhile, Draco was often deep in his thoughts, silently wondering if he was going to be a decent parent. What if something happened that would turn him into Lucius? No, he would never be like him. He was different, he had always been different and, probably, that was the reason Lucius had never loved him (if he'd been capable of feeling love at all), - he must have seen that he'd been failing to make his son a copy of himself. Draco believed that the child could always feel if he or she was loved or not. He couldn't remember when he had started to feel that Lucius hadn't been particularly happy to have him as his son. And whilst he could push the thought away easily, his heart had never stopped feeling it. He'd been more like an heir to him, a future of a family (and had had to fit that title, which he'd failed) than his beloved son. And Draco hadn't been good enough. He had never been good enough, never met Lucius' standards, no matter how hard he'd tried. He couldn't help but remember how hateful Lucius had been, torturing him. And when Draco had cried, screamed and begged him to stop, Lucius had only got more furious as if Draco had no right even to cry, as if he hadn't deserved even this 'privilege'. He shivered and shrivelled up unwittingly as if trying to defend himself from the memories that came flooding back on him.

     "You're a disgrace! For generations our family had not seen such a wretched, miserable black sheep. Crucio!.. Who could have thought I'd be the one to beget such shame? Once the Dark Lord allows me to finish you, I'll let all the blood out of you; the blood you've disgraced! I wish I had drowned you on the first day of your pathetic life and dug your corpse into the flower bed while your bitch of a mother was asleep!.. Stop snivelling! I said shut your mouth! I'm sick of you. I swear to Merlin, I would have strangled you with your own cord if I only knew what a weak spawn you were. Crucio!.."

     Draco was surprised by the way every venomous word hurt him, unhurriedly hissed with such cold hatred, even if he'd been expecting all those things to be voiced and had even heard similar things before, during the previous days here. But now the pain was too much and the physical torture was too much as well. Draco screamed himself into fits and then fainted from the extreme agony, but his body kept levitating in the air, as he felt his head fall back slightly, but then it fell forward and his chin almost touched his chest just before he stopped feeling. Nothing new, though...

"...Rennervate... Still unconscious? Open your eyes. Lift up your face. Now. Drink this."

"I... Hnn... Can't..." Draco's damaged voice whispered weakly.

"I'm not asking twice. Good. Stop squirming. Swallow. This is going to shake you up, so we can continue without such ill-timed interruptions. Pathetic... The mere thought of being related to you is a humiliation. You're nothing but an embarrassing mistake. It was ridiculous of me to have plans for you. I planned everything, because you've never been capable of any worthwhile idea, let alone deed! I wonder how you'd managed to find a way to let the Dark Lord's army into Hogwarts. Someone must have given you the idea; now I doubt it was yours, since you're such a complete failure. Crucio!.. Useless! Worthless! You'd been handed everything on a silver platter, but despite that, you contrived to fail me and your entire family!"

"Father!!! I am... I AM your family!!! Stop... I can't... Please... Why?!!" he screamed desperately, pushing his almost broken voice to the limit and hurting his damaged throat even more.

"Should I really spell it out for you? I believe I should, because not only you regret nothing, I see you don't even comprehend the nature of your guilt with that wretched mind of yours. Well, forgive me for overestimating your weak intelligence. Now, let me think... I don't even know where to start. I suggest we start with your ungratefulness. Crucio!.. What good have you done for your family? You only enjoyed the comforts of life I provided you with, instead of truly joining the course of your family! It was the duty you ignored. I was working hard for the honour of my kin, while you were disgracing it. You did nothing to deserve to be a part of this family. Nothing! What efforts did you make to be the best, as you should have been? At least, at school, which had to be a given. But no... Mudbloods outstrip you, you weak coward! Crucio!.. You brought me no honour even there. Why, pray tell, would I need a spawn like this? Do you find my accusations insufficient? How about your incapability of getting rid of an old dying fool or even a muggle slut, who was sitting in front of you, tied up! Now I have to save my face because of you. Still asking me 'why' when everything is more than obvious? Crucio!.. Don't you dare faint again! Breathe. Look at me. Here... Drink more of this. I want you to be perfectly aware and conscious today, because we've only just begun, Draco. We've just begun... You know, I'm a bit tired of the monotony of the Cruciatus. I'm much more inventive than this, as you already know. Shall we proceed to something different? How about... Exta inflammatio..."

     Soon Draco was aware of the location of almost every internal organ he had, feeling his insides painfully inflamed one by one, depending where Lucius' wand was pointing. Draco was thrashing, as he kept hovering in the air helplessly. His damaged with spell bladder couldn't hold anything, and he was sure there was blood coming out of it, too.

     As Lucius had promised, Draco was conscious; too conscious, actually. The pain was overwhelming and there was no way to escape it even for a moment. He tried to hide in his thoughts. Fear of pain had always been one of the worst of Draco's fears. In his third year when Lupin had made the students face their fears, Draco had intentionally avoided it. Later he'd wondered what shape would the boggart have taken for him, considering that his fear didn't seem to be something material. At the same time, he suspected that he would have probably seen the terrifying creature that he and Potter had seen in the Forbidden Forest, a creature that had been drinking the unicorn's blood, a creature that had been invading his nightmares for many nights during his first year in school... What a terrible irony: the very same creature that had scared him so much (though he'd had no idea who or what it really was back then) was now destroying Draco's life and his own father had sided with it, served it, destroying his own child in its name. That creature in the forest... Oh, gods, why couldn't Potter kill it then and there, once and for all?! Of course, Draco knew that nothing was that simple. It was nothing but shreds of the thoughts that his damaged mind could still produce. He didn't know if it was good or bad that they didn't let him lose his sanity completely even after so many rounds of Cruciatus.

     Person who cast this spell had to mean it, had to mean to hurt the victim, he never forgot this well-known fact. That was how he knew what his father really felt. Every time the man cruciated him, it felt so intense that Draco was very aware that his father meant it. And he still couldn't accept it...

     After a while he could hardly think, and nothing could distract him from the suffering his father was inflicting on him. The torture had never lasted this long before. In the end Lucius let him fall on the floor like a rag doll and abandoned the chamber, leaving his son shocked from pain, incapable of crying, screaming and moving anymore; hardly breathing. In a few minutes the mediwizard, the Dark Lord's follower as well, approached the shivering and extremely damaged boy on the floor. This time it took much more from a man than a usual healing in a rough-and-ready fashion. The man had only once had so much work with the boy; it had happened when Draco had had a heart attack, and the healer had spent almost two days looking after him and stuffing him with potions that had a lot of side effects, but had made Draco ready for the next days of torture rather quickly, not without harming him at the same time, though. His kidneys had suffered from the potion the most. And there was no doubt that the heart attacks would happen again, eventually.

     The exhaustion made Draco fall asleep, or just faint, very soon, more than half dead with shock, even before the healer had been halfway through taking care of the damage. Draco had never slept well here, it was nothing like a healthy sleep; it was restless and he'd often felt the nagging ache through it, even when he couldn't move. Through his sleep he felt tears, running to his cheekbones and temples. Often he'd been just drowsy or fully awake for some time just to look up; there were two half-moon windows in one wall right under the high ceiling. They were dirty and barred, but that didn't make it hard to see if it was night or day. He didn't know where exactly he was, but it didn't matter. He only knew that the chamber was in a basement of whatever building he was in, almost completely below the ground floor. The lowest parts of the windows must have been on the one level with the ground, though he couldn't see it, - it was too high even if he was capable of getting up. Those windows were the only thing for him to concentrate on when he was able to do it at all. He could stare at them for many hours. He had felt especially lonely when it had been sunny outside and he could hear the singing of the birds. He'd often imagined people out there: happy, carefree; talking to each other, laughing, shopping, reading, making plans for the future. It had been just perfect, colourful images of joyful everyday life of the strangers and... He'd hated them, he'd envied them, because he was here all alone, hurt, hopeless, with no way to escape. Of course, he'd known that his ideas about the world out there were an exaggeration, because there was war and there hardly were happy, unconcerned people in these desperate times. And yet, he'd looked at the one of the windows with painful longing, with fantasies of breaking out and running away or of someone saving him, because he'd known he wouldn't be able to run after all the torture he'd endured. Why, oh why didn't they let him go insane and retreat into himself just to make the pain stop; just for a while?.. He only had his stupid fantasies about the escape, but they only hurt him more. '...Potter, I don't know where I am, but I'd give a lot for you to come here and destroy this nest of madmen. Not that I have anything to give... They are all either here, or in the manor of my family. You've stopped the maniac before, even when you were too little to even remember it. Why not now? Please... Please, do something. Why... Why don't you come here and kill the villain? It's what you do, isn't it? I'm trapped here, my mother is trapped in our own house. Do something... Just something. Please, come here, even if you or one of your allies kills me to boot, I know it wouldn't matter to me soon, because... I don't know how much longer I'll be able to take it... I already can't, but they leave me no choice. But I still have a chance... Please... I imagine you leading the crowd of loyal people by your side, and the way you're breaking in here with them. I imagine the epic battle just between you and that sadistic bastard. I would've pissed myself and died from fear if I was the one to fight him; but you're not me. You'll win, of course; you always do. For Merlin's sake, stop them... Once he's dead, you may come down here to tell me that I deserved all of it and how pathetic I am. Rub it in my face, if you must... Or just tell me that it's over and I'm free. And then I'll try to pick up the pieces together with my mother. Just... Just come here sooner, all right? I didn't let them know that it was you in the Manor, sitting just in front of you, looking into your eyes. And I know you're still alive; I heard them talking about you. Or maybe... maybe you've given it up and escaped to the muggle world, because you know that the Dark Lord has too much power now, and it's already pointless to save this world. Maybe it's already conquered and there's nothing for you to fight for. I just don't know what's happening outside... Yes... Yes, I know... I'm just a delusional fool and you won't come here, no one will, so there's no hope for me...' he'd once chanted despondently and tiredly in his thoughts. He'd been just delirious; there was no other explanation for such thoughts. Was it even possible for him to have any normal ones, as he'd been lying flat on his back, too hurt to move, and looking as the day had been turning into evening behind the barred windows of his prison? Fucking half-moon windows... Sometimes they looked like the eyes of someone who was laughing; laughing at him.

     The windows also made him aware when he should anticipate the very unwelcome visits of his torturers. Normally, they came back early in the morning or late in the evening, with a couple of exceptions when one or both of them had turned up in the middle of the day. But no matter if it was day or night, if he was sleeping, awake, or half-awake, he'd always been aware of his unenviable, dreadful situation.

     But not tonight. This time Lucius had obviously surpassed himself, because Draco was completely torn from the reality, and was unable to hear or feel through his sleep. Later, however, he thought that it could have been the mediwizard's mercy, and the man, for some reason, had taken pity on him and sedated him, which had overpowered the effect of the potion that Lucius had given Draco earlier to make him stay conscious.

     He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the quiet footsteps and then this frightening, bloodcurdling squeak of the barred door through the painful semiconsciousness. No, he wasn't ready for more pain; he was never ready, but now he felt too damaged to endure another torment. Maybe they'd decided to put him out of his misery? It took some strength to open his eyes and see Lucius slowly approaching him. The man kneeled before the rigid boy on the cold floor. Draco closed his eyes in resignation when the wand was aimed at him. But, instead of the unthinkable agony, he felt the restraints letting go of his wrists, which had been held behind his back. The magical manacles that Lucius used felt like strong, cold and bony hands, and they held the wrists firmly, though Draco couldn't see them, only felt. They were gone now. With the strange carefulness the man helped him to sit up. Draco whimpered in pain and mind-numbing fear.

"Shhh... It's all right, Draco," his father whispered. He rubbed his son's almost unfeeling hands with his own to restore the blood flow, and pressed the aghast, aching and weak boy to his chest.

"Father..." Draco whimpered desperately, shaking like a leaf and wondering if all of it was real, since he knew his mind wasn't all right already, despite their attempts to keep it; wondering where the catch was. In spite of himself and even feeling and knowing that something was wrong about this sudden show of sympathy, especially after such torture, Draco leaned into Lucius' embrace, also despite the pain that every touch aggravated. What if his father had changed his mind, what if he'd realised what a terrible wrongdoing he'd been inflicting on his own child? What if he'd forgiven Draco? The boy was scared of him half to death. In some sense he was afraid of him more than of the Dark Lord himself. But now there was a tiny hope and Draco clutched at it with all his heart. He was ready to forgive everything and pretend that father had never hurt him physically or emotionally, to pretend that it had been someone else who'd been responsible for Draco's pain. What if Lucius really regretted everything and was there to save his son, to free him? What if some kind, merciful gods, whose names Draco didn't know, had heard the prayers in his screams and wails of agony, and had taken pity on him, reaching out to Lucius' mind?

"Oh, father..." His throat still wasn't really healed after the oil, boiled by magic, had been poured into it and it was appallingly painful to produce any sound at all or even to breathe and especially swallow, as both, his oesophagus and airway, were burnt.

"Father is here. It's all right, son," was the calm response. There was nothing weak and tearful in the man's voice, but he seemed softer than Draco had ever heard or felt him acting. He felt terribly uneasy because of it, but tried to dismiss the feeling. Rocking his trembling son slightly to soothe him in the shelter of his arms, Lucius placed his chin on Draco's head. Father's long and silken hair curtained Draco and he felt even more secure behind it.

"Hurts..." he whispered, but tensed instantly. Father hated when Draco whined, so he was terrified and rigid, expecting Lucius' outrage. But it didn't follow.

"I know, son, I know," the older Malfoy answered. Draco relaxed a little. Bitter tears of unexpected relief streamed down the boy's face. Father wouldn't hurt him anymore. His punishment was over. Father would save him. "Hush..." Lucius kept soothing his weeping Draco. "We'll fix everything; we'll set things right. It's not your fault... Not your fault, Draco. It's always parents to blame, not their child."

     After some time Draco ventured to look up into his father's eyes. They were calm and almost cold, which was normal for him. Draco saw no cruelty or disdain in them, though. These eyes examined the boy's injured body. There was not much left of Draco's clothes, which was tattered after more than a week of torture and dirty, as it had been soaked in blood, urine, sweat and in some places even glued to the body with pus. It also didn't really close much of the body from sight and cold. At first it seemed the older man wanted to remove the rags, but then changed his mind, apparently. He just took off his own long and warm cloak and spread it out on the floor. He helped the wincing boy to lie down on the half of it and covered his body with the other half. Draco felt warm and he curled up in a foetal position to keep the feeling.

"Sleep, Draco. Leave everything to me. Father knows what to do," Lucius promised, still sounding cold, and yet almost soft, and looking resolute like a proud man he was. 'Oh, thank all the gods! Thank Merlin!' Draco cried to himself with unspeakable relief and hope. Father was going to take care of him. Father was going to find the way out for Draco! Father was no longer mad. The man just left; for the first time in many days he left without causing Draco any pain, and even without casting any restraining spells. Draco buried his face in the cloak that smelled exquisitely with so familiar, utterly expensive perfume his father used. It was a good change for Draco after smelling only his own unwashed body, blood and the sickening stench of burnt skin. The untended, festering burns smelled the worst, it seemed, but Draco had almost stopped paying attention to the foul smells. Father's cloak smelled of hope. Now he could finally relax a little and wait. He hoped father wouldn't get hurt, standing up for him or whatever the man was going to do to save him.

     If he only knew what Lucius' words really meant when the man had said that it was parents to blame, not a child... If he only knew, he would have screamed his head off this very night, screamed himself into insanity, despite everything they did to prevent it.

     It was the next day when Lucius had dragged Narcissa into the chamber. At first Draco couldn't understand why the man was so rude with mother. Father had promised him to fix everything, so... why? When he finally realised what Lucius' words had meant, it was the most painful feeling of betrayal he'd ever experienced. Utterly ashamed of his own naivety, he knew he'd never felt so stupid and tricked in his entire life. But until the last moment he couldn't believe that the man would really kill her, no matter what cold and cruel words he was saying. Narcissa was crying and these were tears of helplessness, rather because she couldn't help her brutalised boy than because she was afraid of death. And then the quick curse slit her throat and Draco's world collapsed. Lucius was no longer his father, so Draco had become a complete orphan in one cruel moment. There was no more looking up at the windows, he no longer cared if it was night or day outside; no more useless fantasies about the escape, other than through the death.

     After murdering Narcissa in cold blood the man definitely decided that he'd obtained justice and was satisfied with the punishment he'd already delivered. Perhaps, he felt that the boy was torn and broken, and it was quite a sufficient punishment. Lucius had become almost indifferent and mostly silent, tormenting Draco, as he'd been ordered to keep doing it.

     'Gods... Stop it already. Stop it...' Draco told himself, forbidding the flow of memories to torment him any longer. He hated to remember how cruelly and easily he'd been tricked, hated to remember how he'd eagerly helped to trick himself, searching for love where it hadn't even existed, deceiving himself, taking the desirable for reality.

     He forced his heart to calm down. To distract himself, he started to rub his belly, sending all kinds of comforting and loving thoughts and feelings to his child, to assure him that he was safe and already loved very, very much, and nothing would change it. In his thoughts he often asked his son's forgiveness for everything and promised to try his best to make him happy, protect him and try hard to be a parent his son deserved; not the other way around, - he would never let his son think that he was unworthy of love or had to deserve it first.

     Then he asked himself why he was even thinking about Lucius. Narcissa had been a good mother, a good example to follow, in his opinion. Even being restrained, she'd showed him what it meant to be a parent, what it meant to love a child, because he doubted that there had been anything or anyone in her life that she'd loved the way she'd loved him. He knew he'd be eternally grateful for her love, even if she wasn't with him anymore. Her love and support had been the only factor preserving Draco's sanity when they had been trapped in their own home, like hostages among the mad people and their inhuman leader; witnessing death, the darkest magic, blood and gore. Narcissa had been strong for her child, never letting him break, regardless of all the terror. She'd been his keeper, his guard and his silent hero. Weren't these the best qualities for a parent?

     He still missed her. Her support would have been very much appreciated right now. He would've been happy to hear her advices or just the sound of her voice. Even if her only son was the one who carried her grandson and was going to give him birth, which was unusual and would have been confusing to most people, Draco knew he would have been able to count on her, no matter what. He closed his eyes in sorrow, but remembered what he'd promised in her burial vault. He'd promised her to live and try to leave behind all the things that simply had to be left behind. He'd promised her to let her go. He believed that mothers were hardly able to rest in peace, knowing that their children suffered. Somehow he knew Narcissa was in peace now. He'd promised her to be all right, to live happily with his new family. He knew there was nothing she would have wanted more than his happiness.

"Draco, love, are you okay? You just... looked so sad when I came in." Harry's voice had torn Draco away from his daydreaming. The blond didn't know how long Harry had really been there, looking at him, before he'd finally made him aware of his presence. He suspected that it had been some time. Draco blinked at him, perplexedly at first, but then completely regained the touch of reality, which wasn't bad at all.

"I'm fine, Harry. I was just thinking."

     And he was thinking a lot, often distancing himself even from Harry. He needed some time alone. What harm would it do?

     But one day he was unusually talkative. Dozens of times, it seemed, he told Harry how much he loved and cherished him, wanting nothing more than to hear the same in return as many times as possible. Harry even took a day off from his training. Almost all day long Draco sought comfort in the brunet's arms and received it, feeling warm and content every time he was embraced. He unquestioningly took all the help and care.

     They finally talked about what had happened when Draco had been abducted by Medea Levington and her henchmen. Harry had known that Draco would unburden his heart, eventually, but the dark-haired youth had never pushed the subject, knowing that his lover had had to deal with it in his head first. Now that Draco was ready to tell how he'd felt, Harry was as supportive as he could be.

     The blond also talked to Severus one-to-one and thanked a vaguely surprised man for everything he'd ever done for him. Being on the verge of tears several times, he named most of those things, which wasn't a small list. Severus patiently listened to his dear godchild; it occurred to him that the boy really wanted to let out all these thoughts he'd kept inside, so he just let it happen. Draco wondered where he would have been now if the man hadn't taken care of him. He thought that he would have been dead undoubtedly. Even if Severus had only saved him from captivity, but hadn't taken care of him after that, Draco would have been definitely destroyed by the world that hated him; if not by the common people than by the Ministry employees. He also asked if Severus somehow knew if Narcissa had felt and looked... odd during the last month of her pregnancy. Severus said that he had no idea, as he hadn't been in the Manor often; he only remembered that the last month Narcissa had mostly spent in her rooms; as far as he knew, anyway. His prince was seemingly content with this answer. The boy had probably just wanted to make sure that his recent tendency to seclusion, which was a bit too much even for him, was normal. This day was an exception, anyway.

     Draco was even nice to Longbottom this day and, having tea with him, asked about his parents' condition with interest. Neville informed him of the small changes in their state, - they looked more... focused, and somehow something in their eyes changed every time he was talking to them. Even if he often had to remind them that he was their son, he saw a small evidence of recognition in their hazy eyes whenever they looked at him. His mother's reaction was clearer than father's, but still there was some progress in the man's healing, too. Neville was happy to see any, even the slightest improvement. And even if it was taking a lot of time, he was happy that they had a chance, and he wasn't about to give up; on the contrary, he put his hopes and efforts into the whole idea, praying all the gods that some people who helped, and especially Snape, wouldn't give it up, too.

     In the end Draco was talking to Florie, while having his supper and a chocolate cake that she'd made to pamper him, and asked her about her previous masters that had lived in this house before. He avidly listened to her long story.

     Everyone was puzzled by Draco's strange mood, including Draco himself, especially given that he had been so quiet lately. But later in the evening something had changed again and he started to sob quietly, even though he couldn't find a decent reason for his own tears and seemingly inconsolable distress. Failing to find a reason, too, no matter how many times he asked what had happened and how he could help, Harry never left him alone, soothed him with words and touches, rocking him softly, as Draco was sitting on his lap, until the blond and the baby inside of him were asleep.

     The very next day Draco checked the nursery pedantically and scrupulously to make sure that everything was perfect, and he even looked through all baby's clothes, very carefully folding it again after scrutinising it. He wanted only the best things for his little one, but all of them looked good; it was a good-quality, warm and soft clothes, so there was nothing he could cavil at. Something had got into him when he was holding one of the baby's cotton light loose jackets in his hands. It was so little and soft. He imagined putting it on his baby, who, most likely, would be small enough for this thing to fit him. Moved by the thought, Draco pressed it to his chest and wept quietly, rocking back and forth, as he was sitting on the floor. Fortunately, it stopped quite soon and he was glad that no one had seen it.

     He took one of the children's books and opened it on the random page. Two white butterflies immediately flew up from the pages and fluttered above them. They looked very realistic and meant to shine in the dark. The flowers that looked just as realistic, but were just a moving, magical picture, were rocking in the imaginary wind, and the gilded letters of the text were written just above them; it was a short children's poem about fields of flowers. Draco smiled and closed the book after reading the poem aloud. Both butterflies disappeared between the pages.

     He wondered if his child had enough things, but, frankly, it was more than enough; he'd made sure of it earlier. Seeing the way he was fussing over all those things, Florie presented him with baby's booties that she had bounded herself, using the dark-blue wool, and she'd also enchanted them to keep the baby's feet warm. Draco smiled as he found the work not only beautiful, but also very useful. At the same time, he felt that he was about to start crying again, touched by the kind attention. 'Oh, for fucks sake! Crying over the clothes now, aren't we?! What, in the Merlin's name is wrong with you?' he scolded himself and didn't allow the tears to escape again this time.

     He put all the things in the nursery in order, almost ignoring the elf's whining, as she tried to persuade him to have some rest and just tell her what he wanted to do, or probably change, so she could do it instead. Soon he became very tired and distant again. His heart hurt, his hands shook slightly, so he went to the bedroom, took his potions and lay down, deciding to spend the rest of the day in bed.

     He didn't like what was happening to him, because he felt very vulnerable and sometimes very unhappy. When no one was around, he felt abandoned, unwanted and betrayed. But when they were paying attention to him, he was irritated, absolutely sure that they pitied him (even Severus, surprisingly), so he tried to escape the excessive attention (when he found it excessive, anyway, even if it wasn't like that at all) and... felt abandoned again. He would have swaggered away from their 'pity' with his nose high in the air... if he could actually swagger; but he was only capable of slow, ungraceful waddling now, quite sure that he looked ridiculous. He felt as heavy and clumsy as never in his life before. He didn't even allow himself to think about going down on the first floor without someone looking after him, assured that he would certainly end up at the bottom of the stairs with broken neck. He only went there for a dinner and sometimes lunch, accompanied by Severus or Harry, if he was home, and Florie. What of the other occasions, - since he didn't want to burden anyone by asking for anything, as they couldn't guess the wishes of the sullen, contemplative youth, he spent almost all of his time on the second floor.

     Harry owled him almost every working day when he was away on the training. He wrote him about some remarkable things during his studies or just made Draco know that he missed him. One day, when Snowflake arrived, instead of a letter, she delivered a single white rose, which she dropped on the table in front of Draco. He was so happy that he fed the fluffy bird very generously and petted her until she fell asleep blissfully, sitting on the back of the chair, hardly able to fly away anyway after all the treats she'd got.

     In the evening Harry found him in bed sad and deep in his thoughts, absently looking at the rose in the vase on the bedside table; the rose that Harry had sent him earlier. Gently he kissed Draco out of his pensiveness.

"Hi..." he whispered.

"Evening, Harry. How was your day?"

"Dull. I missed you. What's wrong, Draco?" he asked softly.

"Nothing."

"Draco..."

"I've been just considering... Well... It's really nothing of importance, just some memories," Draco replied after a short pause.

"Not very good memories, I see." Harry sat down on the bed beside him and prepared to listen, hoping that this time Draco would talk about things that bothered him, instead of changing the subject. He felt uneasy every time Draco retreated into himself.

"The thing is... When we'd broken up, when you were leaving school and I was following you with my eyes, I..." Draco began, not quite sure how to explain what he felt.

"God, baby... You never told me. I..."

"I know. It's not the point. The point is that when you'd left the school that day, I tried to convince myself that it was normal to be alone. People, coming into this world, are supposed to be self-sufficient, and they don't need a soul mate, a lover, by their side to exist. We can survive without it easily, don't you agree? It was a familiar point to me, because I'd never been this close to anyone before, and I'd never really asked for it. I still think it's true, but, since I'd been shown what it was like to be with someone who, metaphorically speaking, held my heart in his hand, I felt incomplete and... I was positive that I would never be able to feel really whole again. I think... if you wouldn't have come back to me, I would've overcome the loss sooner or later; I was actually close to it, at least, for the child, because he needs a father, not a lovesick wreck. But I think I would have never felt whole again. It... As if I'd lost a limb. They say it's possible to accommodate yourself to the life without it, but you'll always miss it or even feel the phantom pains. I may be wrong," He frowned and chuckled joylessly. "Of course, I am. It's stupid... and I've been enormously, ridiculously pathetic lately. Apart from all the sentimental figures of speech, heart is just a muscle."

"They say it's the strongest muscle," Harry replied.

"Well, I'm not sure. Mine is not that healthy, so I'm not the one to judge."

"It just needs a lot of love and care," the dark-haired youth said softly and kissed Draco's clothed chest, feeling the heartbeats with his lips. "You know, I agree with those who think it's the strongest. It doesn't stop working even when we're asleep. And it reacts to the smallest changes of our mood and our lives. It's an indicator of many things."

"Great... I'm a whiner and you're playing along."

"If I've got your words right, you just worry about us," Harry sighed. Did Draco still feel insecure about their relationship? Was he still scared of losing Harry again?

"Well... I don't know. Now I do, in two hours I won't. Bloody hormones drive me mad," the irritated blond mumbled into the pillow.

"You have nothing to worry about, I promise. We're going to be just fine, I know it. Do you feel whole now? In general I mean."

"I suppose I do," Draco shrugged and turned on his back.

"Good," Harry smiled at him and put his head on the blonde's thighs, almost pressing his face to his lower stomach. "Our little sweetie is suspiciously calm. Either he's sleeping soundly, or he's up to something," he mumbled lazily after several minutes of silence.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, love. If he's up to something, I'm sure it has something to do with his feet and my ribs," Draco sighed.

"Ouch..." Harry whispered sympathetically and started to kiss the lower part of the belly, accidentally putting slightly uncomfortable pressure on Draco, who winced and squirmed a little.

"Harry, stop it if you don't want to rest in wetted bed," he warned.

"Hmm?" Harry murmured in blissful ignorance.

"Goodness... Because I'm about to pee all over myself right now. How else am I supposed to explain?" Draco said with slight annoyance in his voice.

"Mmmm... Sounds sexy," Harry purred jokingly.

"Wetting my pants and bed, and your disgustingly happy face in addition, sounds sexy? Well, you're a pervert; I always suspected something like this. Saint Potter? Hah!" Draco sneered, putting Harry to shame, or rather just teasing him. Harry gasped sharply in mock astonishment:

"What a bully!"

"It's not like you didn't know it," Draco shrugged. "So shut it, scar-head," he teased. Harry helped him to get up, chuckling at the banter.

"There goes our lofty conversation."

"Oooh... These bathroom visits are so terribly annoying, especially when it's so hard to aim, because I haven't seen my prick for months; can you imagine it?" Draco informed loudly, once he'd made it to the bathroom.

"I could help you with that, you know. Aiming, I mean," was the amused answer from the bedroom.

"Pfft... You just want a chance to grope me all over."

"Of course, I do! You're so soft and round," Harry whined with longing and affection in his voice.

"You mean, fat?" the blond sighed, washing his hands.

"No, you're not fat, just... soft where it feels quite nice to touch and... hot."

"I'm telling you you're a pervert," Draco replied with a smile, returning to the bedroom.

"Fine, I'm a pervert. When we were just... well, friends, I... smelled your pillow when you were away, because I thought it was the only way to feel it; well, because I just like the way you smell. And you know what?" Harry smirked cheekily. "I thought I'd faint, because all my blood went down and I was thinking of you in that bed," he teased. Draco gasped.

"You jerked off in my bed, hugging and smelling my pillow?" he sounded quite amused and curious with a shade of fake accusation in his voice; at the same time, he was just joking. However, they'd just found out that there were still things that could make both of them blush, even if slightly.

"No! Of course, not! Your damned snake scared the hell out of me," Harry sighed, making Draco laugh. "No, I actually wouldn't have done that anyway, because back then I would've possibly decided that it was disrespectful towards you and our friendship. Not sure what I would've done, honestly, but considering that I felt ashamed of myself, even because of that little act of fetishism, I wouldn't have gone any further, I guess," the brunet said more seriously now.

"Aww! Such a gentleman," Draco purred, embracing his lover. "When did that happen?"

"On the same day that I invited you to a restaurant, just earlier,"

"It was a good evening," the blond smiled as they were holding each other.

"Yes, it's true. God, you were so beautiful that I thought my heart would burst. Well, you're always beautiful and I don't think I would ever start to get tired of looking at you. But back then... I thought I looked like an obsessed fool; I devoured your every word and every look. You've got me wrapped around your little finger."

"If I only knew that I wasn't the only one who fell so hard, I would've invited you into my room when you'd walked me to it," Draco kept teasing.

"I'm glad that you didn't. I don't think there was any way I could control myself."

"What makes you think I wanted you to control yourself?"

"I don't know... I'm glad that we've got together when we were ready."

"Ready? You wouldn't have done a thing if I didn't kiss you first! Gods, that kiss was so embarrassing. I really hadn't planned it. It was so spontaneous, and it was one of the clumsiest things in my entire life. Believe it or not, I surprised myself just as much as I surprised you."

"Thank you for that kiss, love. I'm sure that I would've done something like that, eventually, because I don't think I could hold back any longer, even though having you was some kind of unrealisable dream. I was just afraid to lose your friendship, but then you made that step, and I'm very grateful for it. Oh, and I couldn't wait and ravished you the very same day," Harry winked playfully, but then became serious again. "I wish I made it more special."

"Well, it was special, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I was just afraid you'd think that it was the only thing I wanted from you. I was afraid that I was a little too persistent and that I was somehow taking advantage over you and you weren't really ready to go that far."

"Indeed, I wasn't ready at all; but everything was great and I didn't want you to stop. I was just... shy, I admit. I think I do have the right to be bashful sometimes, too."

"Of course, you do."

"Let's stop talking about ravishing me. What am I supposed to do with this now?" Draco sighed, took Harry's hand and pressed it to his groin. Harry's hand felt Draco's hardness and fondled it gently, and his own flesh responded eagerly. But he couldn't disregard Pomfrey's recommendation to stint themselves in sex for the time being.

"What if we do it carefully?" Draco offered; his voice was full of plea and arousal.

"Then let me do it with minimal stress for you," Harry said softly and they kissed. Draco turned on his back and helped Harry to undress him. The blond trusted his lover enough to be sure that he wouldn't do anything that could be harmful, though he couldn't understand how on earth the gentle lovemaking could be harmful for him at all, so he almost frowned at Harry's tentativeness.

"Try to relax and don't strain yourself. Just allow me to take care of you, all right?" Harry whispered and pressed his lips against Draco's. "No ravishing tonight," he smiled.

"Oh, what a pity..." his lover sighed. Of course, he hadn't expected anything different. At least, he took his pleasure in looking at Harry's toned body and enjoyed watching him undress. After the minutes of hot kisses on the lips, Harry's greedy mouth travelled down to the pale neck and small nipples, never forgetting how sensitive they were, so he treated them with care. Although Draco enjoyed it very much, he couldn't help but pull Harry up and met his lips with his own again. He caressed the dark hair with hands, running his fingers through it and tugging at it gently. There was no usual rush and impatience between them, they took their time, enjoying each other, breaking kisses just to smile at each other or look into each other's eyes with tenderness. It was so intense and reassuring that Draco had already forgotten all the doubts and worries that had been troubling him lately.

"Mmh... You're so..." he murmured and kissed Harry's neck. His lips moved up to Harry's cheekbone and ear. "...So wonderful..." he whispered almost indistinctly. His love moaned and nipped his earlobe softly. The next moment Draco's persistent tongue was inside his mouth and Harry sucked on it. Both youths started to get a bit more fervent; breathing became erratic, kisses - deeper and even more passionate. Harry moved down and lowered his head between Draco's legs. He made a path of kisses along the blonde's inner thigh from his knee to the groin. Draco's skin crawled with goose bumps and he arched his back slightly. Harry's hand massaged his balls, gently rolling them in their sack when the other hand caressed the blonde's side and thigh. Draco gasped in anticipation, feeling the hot breathing on his groin. Harry rubbed his face against it and then covered the hard, twitching erection with ghostly kisses, rather touching it with his breath than with lips. The whine of impatience made him smile and he drew his wet and hot tongue from the base of Draco's penis to the pink head. As the blond was panting, sighing and moaning encouragingly, Harry finally stopped teasing and took him in his mouth. At the same time, he took his own erection in his hand and started to stroke it slowly, in time with sucking his lover, who moaned his approval:

"Aahhh... Harry...Yes..." Unconsciously Draco nipped and sucked his own fingertips. Harry moaned as he kept pleasuring himself and sucking Draco enthusiastically, now doing both faster. The blond was extremely and very pleasantly dizzy at the feeling of lips tightly around his flesh, greedy wetness of the mouth, sucking him in, and the soft tongue, caressing the underside of his hard arousal. Harry knew exactly how he liked it and it wasn't easy to hold his hips in place. As the orgasm was quickly approaching, the blond was nearly sobbing in pleasure.

"I can't!.. Gods, Harry... Coming..." he moaned. Harry didn't let go until he swallowed the last drop of semen and his lover went limp. His own orgasm followed shortly after, and the strain was gone. Harry, too, hadn't even had his own hand for some time in solidarity with Draco, who abstained from such activity, not including what had just happened, of course. The brunet cleaned himself and the bedcovers, and lay down next to relaxed Draco's body. Once their breathing had come back to normal, Harry covered them both with quilt. The blond turned on his side to face Harry and also because he was a bit tired of being on his back, since it wasn't quite comfortable for him. He felt as his son stretched out for a few moments and shifted inside of him as if trying to find more comfortable position, too. After all, he didn't have enough space to move more actively anymore. Draco smiled at the movement and pressed his hand to his belly, feeling peace and contentment, especially when Harry embraced him.

"Are you all right?" Harry whispered.

"Yes... Thank you. I needed it to get some foolish thoughts out of my head," Draco chuckled softly.

"I'm fully at your disposal, love. Tired?"

"Yes. Very..."

"Guess we've spent all your energy on casting the foolish thoughts out of your head."

"I'll answer to this later when I'm able to come up with some caustic remark," the blond slurred sleepily. He gave in and closed his eyes. "I'm a fool for you, do you know it? A complete and utter fool..."

"I love you, too. Take a nap," Harry smiled.

     In the morning, however, Draco was still languid. Dressing himself to go to his training, Harry had accidentally woken him up, as his belt had fallen on the floor and the metal buckle hit it.

"Didn't mean to wake you up, sorry. Morning," he said, once he noticed that the blonde's eyes were half-opened, regretting that he'd disturbed his sleep.

"Morning... Name me just one reason why I should get up. I don't feel like it at all. Give me some motivation, please," Draco murmured.

"Rest some more, baby. Remember what Madam Pomfrey said?"

"Yes... 'Stay in bed and rest if you feel like it'," the blond mimicked, frowning.

"Indeed," Harry smiled and pulled the warm quilt up to the back of Draco's head, leaving only his face outside the cocoon.

"This is infuriating," the blond said unenthusiastically, but then smiled back.

"By the way, I forgot to tell you yesterday that she'd firecalled and said she'd be here in the afternoon to examine you, because she'd be busy in the evening."

"Fine..."

"I'll come back before she arrives," Harry promised and kissed Draco's face.

    He was very reluctant to leave, but came back just before Pomfrey flooed in.

"It would be better for everyone if I had an assistant when you'll be giving birth; just in case," the mediwitch said after examining Draco and the child.

"I'm sure Severus will be very helpful," the blond replied.

"With all respect, Severus is not even a mediwizard," she argued.

"He's a good healer, and you know very well that I'm speaking from experience here. I'm sure he has already read plenty of books about pregnancy since he found out about mine," Draco insisted.

"Even so, he has no experience."

"I refuse to get anyone else involved in this," the blond youth pouted. Pomfrey sighed. The boy was stubborn like hell and it was hardly the first time she was facing it, so she just made a helpless gesture with her hands.

     The dull and uneventful days followed and people around Draco did their best not to let him retreat into himself completely.

     One evening Harry was telling Draco about some events that had taken place during his day earlier while they were having their supper. Soon Harry noticed that the blond didn't look very interested and finally stopped talking when his fair-haired love put his knife and fork on the table near his still almost full plate.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know..." Draco sighed.

"What is it, baby? Why don't you eat? Are you not feeling well?" Harry said and kissed his forehead, as he approached him.

"I'm not hungry. And I feel strange."

"What is it? Tell me."

"I'm just tired again, I suppose. I'd even love to go for a walk in the garden right now, but... I don't feel very well," Draco sighed again. He really felt indisposed, so he had the right to whine, didn't he?

"I think you have to lie down. We'll go for a walk tomorrow, okay?" Harry smiled.

"Okay."

     Harry walked him to the bedroom and they both snuggled up together, once they'd washed themselves and changed into their pyjamas. Harry hadn't slept all previous night, preparing himself for an important test, so he didn't mind about going to bed this early.

     Draco wasn't sure what exactly had woken him up. It was almost five in the morning. He sat up and looked at Harry, who was sleeping peacefully beside him. Quietly, not to disturb his sleep, Draco got up, feeling the urge to use the toilet. Deciding that it had been the reason of his early awakening, he went to the bathroom. But the fullness of his bladder and some discomfort in the lower stomach weren't the only things he felt; in addition there were contractions again, like some other days before it. For this reason he'd firecalled Pomfrey two times and after examining him both times she'd confirmed that those had been false contractions, - a normal and usual, even, as she'd said, 'a necessary thing' during the last month of pregnancy; he'd read about it, so there had been no panic. Last time he'd been examined only five days ago for the same reason.

     It had never really hurt and he wasn't feeling any pain now, too, so he was calm. Yesterday during the day he'd felt these spasms in his stomach more times than usually. He lay down into bed again and soon fell into a slumber. Just an hour later he woke up again, feeling already familiar hardenings and almost painless cramps in his stomach, and a similar feeling in the small of his back. A bit irritated at first that these stupid contractions didn't let him rest properly, he soon noticed that they felt stronger than ever before, though quite infrequent. Another hour and a half he was lying awake, paying attention to everything his body felt. The contractions didn't stop and Draco felt a small lump in his throat, because he was now almost sure that this time it was real. He was going to give birth! Soon! No matter how long he'd been preparing himself for this, it still frightened him now that it had really started. Even though he wasn't really fidgeting, sitting in bed with his back propped up by pillows, it seemed his nervousness somehow felt around him enough to wake Harry up.

"Draco? What is it, love?" he asked gently and sleepily, noticing Draco's slight tension. It seemed quite early for Draco to be awake and Harry was also a bit worried about the blonde's breathing, which sounded like a breathing of the person that tried to calm down.

"I think it has begun," the blond whispered. It startled Harry and eliminated the leftovers of his sleep.

"Oh, God... Are you all right? Are you sure it's not some... false labour again?"

"I'm sure. It feels different," Draco nodded. Harry took a deep, nervous breath and got up.

"All right... I'll be back in a moment," he said and quickly headed to the bathroom. He washed his face and brushed his teeth as fast as he could, and returned to the bedroom where he changed his clothes, nearly falling when he was taking off his pyjama pants.

"Harry, please, stop the panic," Draco frowned a bit, though watching Harry's fussing was somehow entertaining. In the other circumstances he was sure he would have laughed at Harry's hair, sticking out madly in all directions, worse than usually.

"Just tell me what to do," Harry said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his slightly trembling hand on his lover's shoulder.

"Lie down and hold me," the blond shrugged, as he lay down on his side and placed one of the pillows between his knees.

"But..." Harry tried to protest.

"Look, I'm not giving birth right now. My body is only preparing for it. I believe I'm having some anatomical changes down there; well... mostly internal changes," 'If everything's all right with me,' he added to himself. "You've read about it, haven't you?"

"Yes, right..."

"Well, I'm going to have those changes and the dilation takes a long time, too. At least, normally it lasts long; there'd be serious complications otherwise, because my body wouldn't be prepared enough. There's plenty of time, I think..." Draco sighed. Harry nodded, lay down behind him and wrapped his arms around him, trying not to worry too much.

"How do you feel?" he asked twenty minutes later, unable to keep silence anymore.

"I don't know. It's... odd. Just... be quiet, please. Don't take offence... I just need some time to compose myself," Draco said, burying himself even deeper in his lover's embrace and feeling slightly anxious beating of his heart against his back.

"It's all right. I understand," Harry said.

"Does it hurt?" he couldn't help but ask with sympathy when he saw Draco wincing and felt the way his tummy hardened, as he placed his hand on it. He hoped that almost an hour of silence had been enough for Draco 'to compose himself'. He was too concerned to stay quiet any longer.

"Not really. Well, it hurts, just a little, but nothing terrible... Look, go tell Severus. Just please stay calm. I really need you to be calm now; for me."

"All right, Draco... All right," Harry nodded and squeezed the blonde's shoulder gently and supportively. He got up and left the room. In fifteen minutes he returned with Madam Pomfrey, and Draco was sure he heard Severus' voice at the door before Harry and the mediwitch entered. It seemed Harry had alerted everyone, but Draco wasn't angry at him. How would he have felt if his lover didn't care about him?

"Good morning, dear," the healer greeted him.

"Good morning, madam Pomfrey," he replied quietly.

"Harry told me you have contractions. When did you notice the first ones?"

"About four hours ago. They are still not frequent, but quite regular," he explained.

"Let's see..." she murmured and cast several spells.

"So?" the blond asked impatiently when she finished.

"You're indeed in labour," she confirmed. He didn't know how he felt about it, though her answer was hardly a surprise. Unmistakably, he was having the real contractions and she'd only confirmed what he already knew.

"Is everything all right?" Harry asked.

"Yes. The stage of dilation has really begun, and Draco still has plenty of time to finish his physical changes before the stage of delivery. The birth channel will form in time, I'm sure of it."

"Thank goodness..." the dark-haired youth smiled slightly.

"I'll be in school. Firecall me any time, or else I'll come back in three hours to examine you again," the mediwitch promised Draco. "You don't need me right now, but I'll be ready to floo back to you any moment."

     They thanked her and she left.

"I want to take a shower," Draco sighed, getting up. "It's best to do it now while I still can enjoy it," he joked gloomily, not sure if it was really a joke, though.

"Do you need some help?" Harry offered. He tried his best not to show how much he was worried about Draco and, at the same time, overjoyed about their soon to arrive baby boy now that there was no doubt that Draco was in labour.

"I could use some," the blond nodded.

     He pressed his palms and forehead against the smooth marble wall and closed his eyes, allowing the warm water to flow down his body. Just a minute later he smiled faintly when the pleasant, delicate scent of his favourite soap filled his nostrils and caring soapy hands of his lover started to slide over his shoulders and back, and along the length of his arms, as Harry had reduced the water flow not to let it wash off the soap too soon. It was soft and relaxing. Then, without moving away from the wall or opening his eyes, he enjoyed the gentle rubbing of the washcloth. When the foam was washed off, he felt the touch of Harry's lips on the back of his neck and smiled again. He inhaled deeply, feeling another contraction, but it didn't really distract him from the pleasant procedure. In the end Harry washed his hair and Draco purred at the attention. All the worries seemed to be far away. It was much more preferable than any words of support. For some time he just stood there, hearing the soft rustle of the washcloth, as Harry was washing himself behind his back.

     Once they finished washing and drying themselves, and as soon as Draco was satisfied with the look of his hair in the mirror (it mattered even now to Harry's silent surprise and amusement), Harry helped his lover to put on the fresh, clean set of pyjama. When they returned to the bedroom, Draco was feeling much better and nestled in bed comfortably with the book he'd been reading lately. Harry didn't know what to do, and he needed something to distract himself from needless bustling, so he retrieved several textbooks from his trunk and did his best to concentrate and study, but he felt slightly alerted almost every time he heard Draco's breathing becoming uneven.

     Almost an hour and a half later, Draco put the warm cloak on and decided to go out on the balcony to have some fresh air. Severus joined him soon and they talked like nothing was happening to the younger wizard; the man played along, even seeing some signs of nervousness on his godson's face, and sometimes the tension crossed it, as he was having every new contraction. Somehow, even scarcely saying anything about the current situation, Severus managed to release some of Draco's emotional tension, at least, for the time being.

     By the time Pomfrey arrived the second time, the contractions were stronger and more frequent, though she said the progress was small, which was normal. When the mediwitch was leaving, Harry went to the fireplace with her to firecall one of his instructors after her departure. He decided to tell that he was taking, at least, several days off, because he didn't want to be bothered by letters or firecalls, knowing that they would try to find out why he was absent. The last time he'd asked for several days off after Draco's abduction, he'd explained that his close friend was unwell and Harry needed to take care of him; this time he just told that his friend needed him again, as he couldn't think up something more creative. Although Harry was a good liar when it was really necessary, he didn't want to mention any kind of illness, because he simply didn't want to think of Draco as of someone who was ill, as if afraid to invite a trouble. Draco was in labour, not ill, which, of course, Harry wouldn't tell to a stranger. To his surprise, the man scowled at him and told him that 'the poor health of his close friends' wasn't a sufficient reason to skip his lessons 'all the time'. Harry clenched his jaw at that. Discipline was one thing, it was understandable and all, but the way the older man replied nearly made Harry fire up and tell him to fuck off. He managed to keep his anger at bay. He was going to dedicate his time to his family and he didn't give a damn about the overzealous ex-Aurors.

     Once Harry had left to make this firecall, Draco let himself worry almost openly. His pain had already intensified, radiating to his lower back and thighs. He suddenly became very anxious, as the reality of the situation had struck him. 'Oh, gods, I'm not ready... Fuck, I've tried to prepare myself for this for months, and yet, I'm not ready,' he panicked inwardly. It was really happening to him, - he was going to give birth. In his thoughts, concentrating as best as he could, he counted to fifty and back, like he often did to calm his nerves. Soon Harry returned and sat on the edge of the bed; his eyes locked with Draco's.

"Draco, are you scared?" he asked softly.

"No..." the blond replied, but caught himself at lies, which, by the way, didn't even sound convincing. And Harry's empathy could hardly be fooled, anyway. "Yes, I am," Draco sighed and lowered his gaze. "It's just... Women are getting ready for this since their childhood, I think, but I..." he tried to explain, but gave it up and shook his head. Harry looked at him with love and understanding. He opened his mouth slightly, but closed it, as he couldn't decide what was best to say. Instead, he took Draco's hand in his and touched the palm with his lips. 'I'm scared, too,' he thought, but wouldn't have voiced it, nevertheless.

     Hours had passed and the pain was getting much stronger than in the beginning. Draco tried to distract himself by absorbing himself in reading almost fanatically. Harry had long given up his attempts to study, because he'd failed to focus and nothing had been lingering in his head. When someone firecalled, he was glad about the chance to leave the bedroom just for some time. He felt guilty at the thought, of course, but, on the other hand, Draco didn't need him there all the time and would rather snap at Harry for fussing over him too much. The blond had already turned him out of the room once, and had made sure that Harry had had a good dinner by asking Florie to see to it and inform him later. Harry hadn't been really hungry, but he'd eaten most of the delicious food the house elf had served him.

     Harry answered the firecall and saw Hermione's face.

"Hi, Harry!" she greeted him. "Ron and I have been thinking about going somewhere this weekend. We thought that maybe you..."

"No, Mione, sorry," he interrupted. "I will hardly be able to go anywhere within the next few days, at the very least. Draco's in labour," he informed, failing to hide his nervousness. He didn't have to hold back for her as he had to hold back for Draco right now. She gasped quietly.

"Goodness, how is he?"

"In pain," Harry sighed.

"I see... And how are you holding?"

"I'll be fine... I guess..."

"Hold on, both of you. Go to him. But, please, keep in touch, Harry."

"I'll contact you as soon as I can," he promised.

"Good luck," Hermione smiled at him.

"Thanks," he nodded and ended the call. Without delay he came back to the bedroom. Draco's book now was on the bedside table, forgotten. The blond looked tense, but obviously tried to hold on. The quilt was in front of him and between his legs, as he was lying on his side. At the same time, his face was buried into it, but Harry could see that the blonde's eyes were closed, though not too tight. The quilt muffled the small and occasional sounds of pain, and the youth slightly trembled every time he had another contraction; now they were even more frequent and longer lasting. Harry's heart slightly clenched with worry and sympathy. He sighed and started to caress Draco's hair and back gently. The blond stayed in this position for more than an hour, never opening his eyes, never saying anything, and Harry made him aware of his constant presence with soft, loving touches. It was Draco who spoke first:

"Harry, could you pour me a glass of water?" he asked.

"Of course," the brunet replied and poured a full glass of water from the carafe. Draco sat up with a sigh.

"Oh, damnation... It hurts..." he whined quietly, taking a glass. He drank more than a half of the water and passed the glass back to Harry, wincing. He turned on the other side as he lay down, and this time Harry spooned up behind him. He sleeked Draco's slightly dishevelled hair and kissed the back of his head.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No... Just you."

     Only almost an hour later Harry got up as Pomfrey knocked and entered the room; he didn't want to be on her way, as she was obviously going to examine Draco again.

"How do you feel?" she asked the blond softly after several minutes of casting the diagnostic spells.

"Wonderful," he grumbled, keeping his eyes closed.

"I need to make sure everything is forming properly," she warned. He understood what she was going to do, so with the quiet, irritated grumble he pulled his pyjama pants down to his knees and let her examine him; the quilt still covered his front. She sighed in relief that he cooperated without arguing, even when she had to spread his buttocks apart to see if everything looked normal for this stage. He was too busy, feeling another painful contraction, to feel really embarrassed by her actions.

"Well? Does it look beautiful enough to you?" he mumbled when she finished the examination.

"Very beautiful." She rolled her eyes and chuckled softly. Some sarcasm and grumbling, but, at least, no tantrums she'd secretly expected from him. Even though she'd warmed up to him, he was a pain in the neck as a patient; he'd always been. Harry couldn't hold back a chuckle of his own, especially seeing a small smile on the face of his love, in spite of pain. Draco pulled his pants up.

"I'll be downstairs in the living room. Call me if you need me," the healer said. Both youths nodded and she left their bedroom.

     It was already midnight, almost twenty hours since Draco had noticed the first contractions. He was tired, and stabs of pain were very strong now. He also felt sick, so even if he was allowed to eat, he knew he would have thrown up.

"This is normal. It's even considered normal for a female pregnancy to dilate this long. You're almost dilated enough to give birth, but it's still early to push the baby out. You know you're going to feel the urge. Everything's fine with both of you. Hold on. I'm sure you'll be able to push soon and it will give you some control over the process," Madam Pomfrey soothed her tired and upset patient.

"He's been in pain for such a long time. Can you do something to lessen it?" Harry asked quietly, as he followed the mediwitch to the door.

"I could, but any strong pain-relieving potions, efficient enough for him to feel the difference, would, most likely, lengthen the labour. They can also make Draco and the baby sleepy. I assure you he wouldn't have to wait long," she promised him.

"I hope you're right," Harry sighed and turned his face at Draco's small cry of pain.

     Not only contractions were very painful, but they also were literally running into each other, leaving him no time to relax, so the pain was constant and exhausting. Draco had already stopped trying to hold back moans and cries, writhing every time he was unable to tolerate. He could also feel the baby even lower in his pelvis, and it felt rather uncomfortable, but he was ready to beg his little one to be born sooner; though, of course, he knew that nothing depended on his child, and he felt like nothing depended on him, Draco, either. It seemed there was no progress at all since contractions had become this excruciating, and it also seemed he was suffering in vain, while he still couldn't push. It frustrated him.

     When he was fully dilated, but still couldn't push, Pomfrey suggested him to get up with Harry's help and pace the room carefully and slowly, asserting that it could speed up the whole process a bit, as there was a chance to make the baby move down a little faster. He looked at the mediwitch as if she was crazy, and angrily covered himself with blanket, turning away from everyone and wishing to be left alone. The pain was driving him up the wall and she dared to suggest him getting up and strutting about! Even with Harry's help it seemed ridiculous, especially with the painful trembling Draco felt in his thighs. An hour ago Harry had almost carried him to the bathroom, as Draco's bladder felt extremely compressed and he was hardly able to control it, so he'd begged Harry to hurry up. Moreover, he needed to urinate almost every hour and, once those strong contractions had kicked in, he doubted he was able to get to the bathroom without some help, especially now. Feeling mildly nauseous again to boot, he became completely sure that the entire thing was undoubtedly meant to exhaust him before he would finally make it to the delivery.

     Another hour had passed and Harry was trying his best to hide his concern, because it was hard to see his love going through such suffering.

"You know, I'm going to miss your tummy when it'll be over," he said softly, putting his hand on it. The blond put his own hand on Harry's and squeezed it.

"Oh, Harry... If it lasts another couple of hours you'll be... Ahh!.. You'll be missing my sanity..." Draco forced out of himself and emitted another loud moan and then a sobbing sound. He was on the verge of weeping helplessly, and Harry saw it, so he prepared himself for doing everything he could to comfort him, though he doubted that he could do more than he already did. But suddenly the grey eyes widened and Draco gasped sharply.

"What is it?" Harry asked with concern. The blond pulled down the quilt and looked back. Harry followed his eyes and saw that the sheets and Draco's pants were wet. The blond suddenly felt so upset and ashamed that he wanted to ask Harry to leave. He didn't want Harry to think that he'd wetted himself or something.

"Oh, gods! This... this is not what you're thinking."

"Draco, I know what it is. Water has broken. And even if it was something else, you don't have to worry about anything. There's no way you could embarrass yourself in my eyes, I promise, love," Harry assured. He helped Draco, who was moaning in pain and tried to hide his face in pillow, to take off his pants and dried the bed with spell, comforting his lover with sweet nothings he was saying softly. "I have to call Pomfrey and tell her about it," he said then. Draco groaned, feeling another sharp stab of pain, and grabbed Harry's hand.

"Wait... Harry, would you, please, help me to... change? Just need..." He moaned, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his stomach, as he stopped speaking for several moments. "I... just need a clean, dry nightshirt. I guess there's no necessity of wearing pants now, so... ummh... Look for a longer shirt, long enough to cover my... privates," Draco asked. His voice was small, trembling and pained, and Harry wanted to kiss him all over and comfort him, but he hurried to honour Draco's request.

"Of course. Just a moment," he said. It didn't take him much time to find the white nightshirt in the chest of drawers, and he helped Draco to change; he actually did most of the work, because his lover was almost convulsing from the pain.

"Thanks, love. Are you sure... you want to be here with me?" the blond asked with the very obvious strain in his voice.

"Absolutely! Why are you even asking?"

"I just... I just think... Gods! ...Think it's going to be quite an unpleasant show." Draco moaned and arched his back.

"I've already told you, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I want to be with you. I only care about you and him," Harry assured him gently, touching the hardened belly and feeling the movements of his son. And then he started to rub the small of Draco's back again, as they had already found out that it was a little helpful to reduce the pain or rather distract the blond from it just a little bit. Draco, nevertheless, kept groaning into the pillow, clenching it with his hand.

     Pomfrey examined Draco again, as Harry had called her, and promised that the delivery would begin very soon. It infuriated Draco, because it wasn't the first time she'd said the word 'soon', but the pain was too strong for him even to snap at her. He felt awful, because he also kept leaking slightly, and asked Harry to dry the sheets again. But ten minutes had not yet passed since the mediwitch had left the room when Draco felt the long-awaited urge to push.

"Harry, call her back... I think I'm giving birth!" he informed and almost doubled over with pain. He cried out. Harry ran after the healer, hating to leave the long wails behind his back.

     Whilst alone, the blond tried to push a couple of times experimentally, just to test the waters, so to speak, but it didn't feel like his attempts brought any result at all, and the pain had only become worse, so he felt insecure.

"Draco, dear, where would you feel comfortable?" Pomfrey asked him calmly when Harry had returned with her. She would have felt better in her infirmary in school, but she knew Draco would hardly agree to it, and transferring the boy would have only increased his discomfort.

"Here, in... this bed," he moaned. She nodded, as she'd been expecting the answer all along. She and Harry helped him to get up on his knees. Draco emitted a long sound of pain, but he wasn't sure if it was a scream or a loud groan. Madam Pomfrey placed several clean, folded sheets under him and Harry pressed his beloved to his own chest, sitting on the knees in front of him to be his support. He didn't know how he'd come up with this, but somehow it felt right, especially when Draco wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Draco, I need to be here to prevent you from getting birth injuries and to look after yours and your baby's health. I'll try not to cause you any additional discomfort, but you'll have to listen to me," the healer told him softly, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He only nodded and moaned loudly. "All right, let's push," she said.

     He started his new attempts to push the child out. He groaned and cried in pain, clutching Harry's shoulders harder. He was squatting or sitting on his knees, his legs were shaking and Harry held him to take some of his weight. About fifteen minutes of it seemed like an hour. He tried and tried, but he hardly felt his baby moving down his birth channel, and it discouraged him.

"It hurts... I can't..." he whispered painfully, breathing hard and trembling.

"It's all right. You're doing very well," Madam Pomfrey assured him. And he continued. Sometimes she had to remind him to push in the middle of a contraction to make his efforts productive. She also reminded him to breathe when he was holding his breath. The pain and strain were exhausting and seemed endless. Somewhere in the background he could hear her instructions, Harry's soothing words and Draco's own loud sounds of pain. Later he could feel tears running down his face and the cold, wet cloth that gently and frequently cleaned his face and neck from said tears and sweat. Harry was there and never left Draco's side. His hand often rubbed Draco's back or belly, or supported the blond under his thighs when he felt it was necessary. He noticed and gently touched the vein on Draco's temple that had bulged because of the tension. He sighed. Gods, he did what he could, but he desperately wanted to be more helpful.

     Almost losing his connection with reality, Draco remembered asking his mother once if giving birth was truly such a painful and terrible thing. Narcissa had answered that it had been the most painful experience in her entire life. And then she'd smiled and very young Draco, probably six or seven years old, had found it quite strange after what she had said. She'd explained that when she had first seen him, held him in her arms and pressed him to her chest, she'd realised that she would have readily agreed to endure much more pain just for that private and special moment of closeness with her son. Narcissa had assured him that he was worth every moment of pain. It had been one of the moments when she'd showed her love openly, which hadn't been very often, though somehow she'd never let him doubt. She'd also told him that, no matter how painful it had been, she'd always remembered that the pain had been necessary and she'd had to accept it, because without it she wouldn't have been able to bring her awaited and loved child into this world. Now he realised what it meant. He knew he had to face this necessary pain. All attempts to avoid it would only lengthen his sufferings. He knew it instinctively and remembering his mother's words was also very helpful by some means. Now, due to circumstances, it seemed to be something like a secret that she had revealed to him or it simply heartened him. Draco thanked her kindly in his thoughts.

     It was nearly a self-destruction, and it was the only way to give birth to his child; there was a price to pay for the new life. He had to endure it to be finally able to take his infant in his arms, so he could forget the pain, calm them both down and have a good rest. Oh, he wanted to hold his son so much! He whimpered at that overwhelming desire and a new tear escaped his eye. Harry's vision became blurry with his own tears when he saw it; he kissed the tear away.

     Screaming and crying literally into Harry's shoulder, Draco doubled his efforts, wondering where he had taken the strength for it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he was going to be torn apart, as he felt that the baby's head had only started to come out, but it didn't stop him and he kept pushing, even sure somehow that there was blood, though he didn't look.

"The head is almost out," Madam Pomfrey finally informed with a small smile. She slightly helped to guide the baby's head out completely. "Very good, now breathe and let's take a short break, all right?" she said, seeing that he was overstraining himself. As he was breathing with obvious exhaustion, he was sobbing almost dryly and shaking all over, clutching Harry's tee shirt on his shoulder with one hand and Harry's hand with his other one.

"Look at me, dear," the mediwitch asked. He raised his flushed face and turned to her reluctantly. She looked into his eyes and then scanned him with spells.

     As he continued pushing, he felt the baby's body turning slightly, still inside, and somehow it seemed surreal. He heard Harry's soft words of encouragement, praise and support, but Draco himself was quite sure that he was on his last legs. He thought that maybe he'd had to spare some strength before. His heart suddenly started to hurt, but he was hardly paying attention, because everything hurt. He started to doubt that he would ever be able to heal after this, especially 'down there', as he was exerting himself to the utmost. Soon the healer informed that one of the baby's shoulders was almost out and promised Draco that it would only take a little more of his efforts to deliver his baby. Harry tried to look down and regretted it very soon when he only saw Draco's blood on the white folded sheets, so he decided not to look again until it was over. There wasn't much blood, but it didn't matter. The fact that he'd seen blood many times before didn't mean he was all right with looking at it, knowing whose blood it was. He felt that Draco was really, really tired. His arms weren't holding him as tight as before, though they were around his neck; hands weren't grasping his tee shirt any longer. Despite his weakness, Draco kept pushing, knowing that the hardest part was over. Only one more shoulder, just some more effort and... he would be able to rest. He was grateful that the mediwitch was carefully guiding the baby out, just helping him a little. And, finally, once he was told that the other shoulder of his little one had come out, he gave in, knowing that it was safe for his child now...

     Harry and Madam Pomfrey both simultaneously realised that something was wrong. At first Draco quietened down, then Harry suddenly felt that his love went limp in his arms and Draco's own arms hanged down helplessly. It had happened unexpectedly, before Harry knew it. But the mediwitch reacted rather quickly and professionally. It was safe and easy now to pull the rest of the baby's body out, which she did. She only checked Draco's vitals before fixing her attention on the baby for a short time. With 'Anapneo' spell she cleared the baby's airway and cut the umbilical cord with the other spell. Covered in Draco's blood and trembling, the newborn immediately started to cry piercingly, once his airway had been cleared; apparently, he was not very happy to be out of his daddy's very warm, comfortable and safe body. The healer cast the warming charm on him to prevent him from getting cold and put him on a clean sheet. Everything had been done quickly, so she could take care of Draco now. Meanwhile, Harry kept holding him, calling his name and shaking him slightly. He felt lost and confused. Madam Pomfrey examined Draco and found another mild heart attack, despite the strong potion she'd given him earlier to support his heart and despite the fact that the previous examination hadn't showed any signs of it.

"Is he..." Harry stuttered.

"He's breathing. Harry, I need you to put him down," she said with the voice that made him listen. Carefully Harry did what had been told and in a dreamlike state looked as the mediwitch cast healing spells on the unconscious and very pale body of his love. She opened her satchel and retrieved some blue vial. She uncorked it and cast the injective spell that allowed her to administer the transparent bluish liquid right into the vein on the inside of Draco's elbow through the tiny hole, which closed right after the woman had administered the required dose, only leaving the very small red dot on the pale skin. She knew it would start working immediately, because it had got right in the bloodstream. Her quick, but calm and confident actions were probably the only thing that kept Harry from breaking down, or he was rather too stunned to properly react to what was happening in front of him. Other examining spells followed and then the mediwitch did everything Draco's body required after giving birth, including the removal of afterbirth and cleaning him up. Harry automatically helped her to change Draco into the clean nightshirt. They also changed the bedcovers and let Draco rest, covering him with blanket. Harry stayed with him, while Pomfrey was busy with the baby, cleaning him up, examining him and properly taking care of the small piece of the birth cord on his tummy. Harry suspected that he would be angry with himself later for his stupor, but he couldn't help it. Without his participation the baby was taken care of: properly washed in the bathroom, soothed and put to sleep. Florie quietly transferred the baby's cot from the nursery to the bedroom and the wrapped up sleeping newborn was put into it.

     Only later when everything was over, the mediwitch left and Florie, who was silently shedding floods of tears for Draco, brought Harry a cup of tea, though looking at him pretty coldly, he started to come to terms with the situation. Draco was alive and Madam Pomfrey had promised that he would recover. He only needed time and healing, but he wasn't dying and Harry wasn't losing him. Even though he blamed himself for the earlier state of complete helplessness, he knew he wouldn't have done anything useful and nothing had depended on him, since he wasn't a healer and there was a professional and trusted mediwitch by their side. But there still was some anger he felt about himself and couldn't help it. He also remembered that Pomfrey had insisted that he had to rest, too, because Draco would have been displeased if he knew that Harry exhausted himself needlessly. She had even promised that she would inform Draco about it, once he regained consciousness. Surprisingly her words triggered something in him when he remembered them. He changed into pyjamas and lay next to Draco, praying gods that his love would feel better when Harry woke up. Even the tiredness and lack of sleep didn't make him doze off soon, but in the end his mind just shut down.

     He woke up almost in the evening, though he could remember he'd heard Snape's and Pomfrey's voices through his sleep, as the mediwitch, most definitely, had come to examine Draco several times. He wondered how she was holding without sleep, but decided that she simply slept between her visits. Draco was still unconscious and it took Harry some willpower not to weep, looking at him. But he didn't let himself fall apart. Instead, he took a shower, and it made him feel, more or less, rested. It was then when he finally decided to come closer to the cot. Tentatively and very carefully he took his sleeping son out of it and looked at him. The baby's skin wasn't as purplish as it had been right after his birth (as he'd managed to notice, without paying much attention back then, to his shame). It was light pink now, though Harry couldn't see all his body, dressed in wizarding light baby clothes. His very soft, thin hair was blond. It felt very fluffy, as Harry touched the head gently. He was curious what colour were the baby's eyes, but he saved it for later, not willing to disturb the child's sleep. He finally could take a closer look at him, instead of seeing some lump with small trembling limbs from the corner of his eye, like it had happened before. For Harry it suddenly was the most beautiful baby in the entire world, and he had witnessed his birth, but then he'd just ignored him, instead of taking care of him and making sure he was fine, as a good parent should have done. He sighed and closed his eyes in shame, then planted a gentle kiss on his son's forehead and looked at unconscious Draco with deep sadness. He'd imagined they would share a moment like this together. Even worse: his love hadn't even had a chance to hear the first cry of their baby, to look at him, to press him against his chest after birth, to warm and comfort him. It was too unfair after all Draco had gone through; after he'd had the child growing inside of him all those months as a part of him and after so much pain during the labour.

     The baby finally opened his grey eyes, a bit darker shade of grey than Draco's. They were so beautiful and pure that Harry wanted to cry.

"I'm so sorry... I hope it's not too late to say: happy birthday?" he whispered. The baby looked at him, but nowhere in particular, not into his eyes, anyway, and started to whimper pitifully. And then the little face scrunched up adorably and, when the baby started crying loudly, it reddened a little. At first Harry was confused. "Are you hungry, sweetie?" he asked gently. The next moment Florie appeared in the room with the bottle of milk and gave it to Harry. He thanked her. She didn't reply, but for some time stayed in the room to see if he was feeding the baby right. He gave the bottle to his upset son. The crying stopped immediately when the baby started to suck the warm milk, as Harry held both him and the bottle the way it was described in the book he'd thoroughly read weeks ago to be able to take care of his son. Florie looked at Draco once more with the eyes full of tears and disappeared, once she'd made sure she had no reason to distrust Harry with taking care of the child. When the baby was full up and calm, Harry was just rocking him gently in his arms. The grey eyes were looking at the ceiling absently, but sometimes they looked at Harry's face. Harry had a chance to see more of his son whilst changing his nappy. Before dressing him, Harry trifled with the tiny toes gently. He took the little feet in his hands and kissed them, then put the baby's booties on them. When all baby's needs were satisfied, it didn't take long for Harry to rock him to sleep.

     Two days later Draco hadn't even regained consciousness yet, but Pomfrey said that it was necessary to remove his womb and the other extra organs his body didn't need anymore, because they had already started to die off slowly. And, of course, it would be very harmful for Draco's health in general if she didn't perform the magical surgery as soon as possible. They hadn't even thought about such possibility before. No book explained what happened to the extra organs after they had served their purpose. Pomfrey had previously assumed that in most cases they were supposed to resolve by themselves magically or, at worst, just remained in the body as something that was no longer functional. But Draco's condition was different. She was almost sure it was an exceptional case, because it was strange that no source mentioned that these organs had to be removed. Otherwise no man would ever bother to tolerate such pain, giving birth, and would have no choice but allow cutting them out along with the child, which would have allowed the fathers to spare a lot of nerves, health and strength. Sadly, there was no information about cases like Draco's.

     Even if Draco was unconscious and couldn't feel any pain and distress, Harry felt the whole situation keenly and was there with him during the magical surgery, not watching the course of the operation itself. It was another ordeal for Draco; he'd had so many of them lately, and Harry hoped with all his heart that it wouldn't unsettle his lover completely once he woke up.

     His condition wasn't like coma; he often moved in his sleep slightly, even opened his eyes a couple of times, though, was hardly aware of anything at all, and fell asleep again very soon. Pomfrey said that now she kept him asleep; and not only he needed rest to recover, but it also allowed to avoid strong pain-relieving potions. Harry took care of him as best as he could and spoke to him often, though there were no signs that Draco heard him through his sleep.

     He sighed. He knew Hermione and Ron had already arrived to support him. He hadn't contacted them after the birth of his son, in spite of his promise, because he simply couldn't think of it in light of what had happened, so his very worried friends had firecalled him two days later. He had told Hermione about his reaction and helplessness when Draco had lost consciousness in his arms and how angry he was with himself for it. She'd scolded him, saying that it certainly was normal for a human being to be shocked by the possibility of losing a loved one, especially when he really couldn't help, and after losing so many people he'd loved, it was absolutely normal to react like this. Their conversation had taken an hour and Harry had felt better after it.

     And now he'd invited both of his best friends, and he knew they were already waiting for him in the sitting room. He kissed Draco's cheek once more and went to them. They both embraced him warmly and silently, once he'd entered the room where they were. This alone made him know that he had their support, no matter what, even if they all had their personal lives now. They drank some tea and talked to each other for some time.

"Could you show us the baby?" Hermione asked tentatively, but there were signs of impatience in her voice. Harry gave her a small smile and nodded. He brought his son, wrapped up in light, but warm blanket, and allowed her to take him in her arms. He knew he would never let anyone, except people he trusted completely, hold his baby. Hermione looked down at the warm sleepy boy in her arms and her eyes watered. It was so touching to realise that it was Harry's baby. None of them had ever thought that one of their Trio would have a baby this soon. She was holding Harry's flesh and blood...

"Miracle," she smiled, blinking the tears away.

"So small... " Ron whispered.

"Well, he's only several days old," Harry shrugged.

"Harry, he's wonderful; beautiful, like a tiny angel. Congratulations, once again," Hermione said sincerely.

"Thanks," he nodded with a small smile.

"He resembles Malfoy, but I think he has your mouth," the redhead noted.

"Ron, how can you tell when he's so little? Things can change; even his hair colour will probably change in time," Hermione said. The baby started whimpering, completely awake.

"Oh, blimey, look what you've done with your lecturing," Ron frowned and carefully took the child in his own arms, though looking at Harry as if asking permission silently. His friend nodded, giving it and looking back with slight amusement. Ron was rocking the baby carefully, looking at the little face, scrutinising it.

"At least, tell us what the little man's name is," he asked.

"Officially he has no name yet. I'm... I'm waiting for Draco to wake up. But... When Draco was pregnant we were calling him Narcissus after Draco's mother.., sort of," Harry replied. He wasn't sure if Draco wanted to keep their baby's 'foetal name', though he didn't mind at all.

"Narcissus sounds good. Narcissus Malfoy sounds good, but Narcissus Potter sounds terrible," Ron chuckled quietly. He decided not to say that the name itself sounded obviously selfish. He hoped and somehow was almost sure that in this baby Harry's kind-heartedness and selflessness would carefully smooth over the Malfoyish egoism and other not very pleasant traces of character that Ron had always disliked. But then again, it was too early even to think about such things, looking at the one who had been born only a few days ago, so he quitted the guesswork.

"You can always use the hyphenated surname, like Malfoy-Potter or Potter-Malfoy. I think it's fair," Hermione suggested.

"Interesting idea. To be honest Draco and I have never really discussed it," Harry sighed. The baby whimpered again and then started crying loudly and heartbreakingly. Ron was rocking him gently, emitting the soothing noises, but it wasn't helpful. Harry already knew the sign of a hungry baby.

"I'll be right back," he said. Several moments later he came back with embroidered linen napkins and the bottle that was always prepared beforehand with the warming charm on it. He took his son in his arms and started feeding him, soothing the rest of baby's distress with soft, quiet words. His friends looked at him curiously. Hermione noticed that the milk in the bottle was slightly bluish.

"Is it some milk substitute?" she asked.

"Yes. Snape found the recipe to brew milk that's similar to breast milk; absolutely identical, actually; well.., except for its colour. It's very good for baby's stomach and his health in general," Harry explained. Hermione nodded her approval.

     To be honest, Severus and Harry had come to a silent understanding lately, even though they'd been forced by circumstances. By a joint effort they took care of Draco and the baby, and seemed to be better than expected with the little child, despite the lack of experience. It didn't make things worse that they didn't talk much to each other (maybe, on the contrary, it was for the best). Harry really appreciated the practical help of a practical man. He wasn't sure he would be able to go through this alone. He had no doubt that Snape truly cared for Draco, and Harry wondered if the man could love the baby just as much, at least, because the child was Draco's flesh and blood. Harry couldn't tell so far. Only Florie seemed to have no doubt at all, considering her older master as baby's grandfather of some kind; at least, she acted like this and wouldn't give a damn if anyone disagreed. She didn't need to be given any clothes to have her own inflexible opinion and to be mulish as hell in her convictions.

     Very quickly they'd learned that when the baby was making sniffing noises and sucking his fingers or knuckles, it meant he was hungry. At least, he usually did it. Only if they weren't attentive enough to notice the signs in time, he started to cry at the top of his lungs, and sometimes it took time to soothe him and even to make him drink his milk, in spite of his hunger, when he was really worked up. It actually reminded Snape of little Draco. His tiny prince had slept most of the time, too, but once he'd started crying, it sometimes had taken hours for Narcissa or the nursemaid to calm him down.

     They also were aware that the little boy usually fell asleep sooner if he was wrapped up in a warm blanket, but without any attempts to straighten him, at the same time. It soothed him well, probably because it resembled him being in Draco, comfortable and safe.

     As Harry finished the feeding, he let Ron take the baby again and while the redhead was busy with him, Hermione, mostly with her eyes, gestured Harry that she wanted to talk in private for some time. They went out on the balcony.

"You look tired. How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked, putting her hands on the wide stone railing and pressing her knee against the baluster.

"Fine... More or less," he sighed.

"How's Draco?"

"Madam Pomfrey still keeps him asleep, but she promised she'd stop sedating him very soon. She says he's recovering slowly but surely. He'll probably need to take some potions for several years."

"For his heart?"

"Yes. Not that it's going to be new to him, but he'll need a stronger medication now. At least... At least, he looks better; not as deathly pale as a couple of days ago. I was afraid that Madam Pomfrey was lying to me just to soothe me. I was afraid that he would never wake up."

"But you don't think so now?"

"I don't. But don't we all have a sceptical, stubborn and paranoid little fool in us?"

"I reckon that fool still makes you blame yourself for being shocked..."

"Hermione, don't even go there," he frowned, interrupting her. "It was almost like our sixth year, when I nearly killed Draco and just stood there like some... retarded fuckwit while he was bleeding. He almost died and I couldn't even move. And several days ago... If Draco's and my son's lives depended on me..."

"If their lives depended on you," this time she interrupted. "You would've done your best even if it meant losing your own life, you would have done the impossible when the others would've given up. You just refuse to accept that nothing depended on you. Admit it."

"I know it, Mione; I know it very well, but... I'll try... How are you and Ron?" He eagerly changed the subject.

"We're all right. We're going to go on a walking trip for several days. We both really need to relax; you know Ron has had a hard time on his training, I must admit, he works very hard, and I... Oh.., I haven't told you, have I?" she smiled with some pride on her face.

"What?" Harry asked, slightly intrigued.

"I've passed the exams and yesterday I got a letter from the University under St. Mungo's. They accepted me," she exclaimed.

"Wait... I didn't know you were going to be a mediwitch," Harry smiled, slightly confused. Hermione was hardly an impulsive person that did things all of a sudden.

"It was almost a spontaneous decision, but I'd considered it as one of my options before. It probably runs in the family," Hermione smiled again. And though she was half-joking, Harry knew what she meant. Her parents were medics, and though they were dentists, they were healers, too, anyway.

"Congratulations, Mione, they've got the best student," he said seriously.

"Thanks, Harry. Well, let's go back," she suggested, as she'd started to get cold and noticed that Harry, too, was uncomfortable with the harsh wind. When they entered the room, they heard some low humming that resembled singing very remotely. Ron was rocking already sleeping baby and quietened down, seeing that his girlfriend and best friend were looking at him with wide grins.

"Ron, were you just... singing?" Harry chuckled.

"Yes. What?" the redhead blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry, mate, but you have no ear for music."

"He doesn't care," Ron shrugged, looking down at the child. "He started crying when you left, so I sang him a lullaby; it has a few magical words that often help to calm children. Our mum sang it to us when we were little, though I don't remember the entire song."

"You'll be a great dad, Ron." Harry patted his friend on the shoulder and the redhead almost blushed again.

"Umm.. Harry," he said after a while. "Mum, dad, Bill, George and Charlie asked me to send their regards. They wanted you to know that they care about you."

"Thanks," Harry nodded, but still didn't know what to think of it. On the one hand, he doubted that his relationship with Weasley family (not including his best friend, of course), would ever be the same again after what Ginny had done. They didn't blame Harry for testifying against her, and yet, somehow he felt awkward about them. On the other hand, he still loved and respected them. He decided to give it time. It could wait, and his thoughts were too occupied with other things right now.

     Ron had decided not to tell Harry about the whole conversation with his family that, at least for the time being, had really become united because of the situation with Ginny. It wasn't a secret for all of them that Harry lived with Draco and they were together as lovers. Not all the members of Ron's family were taking it well, and it had been Ron who'd told them to go on with that if they wanted to lose Harry's friendship completely. There had been a hot discussion and, in the end, everyone agreed that there'd been too much between Harry and them, and they didn't want to lose him and only wanted him to be happy. Just in case, Ron had pointed out, however, that Harry didn't require their approval at all, and his personal life was none of their concern, anyway, which earned him Hermione's most sweet and breathtaking kisses later when they'd been alone; as well as her praise and admission that she was very pleased that he'd matured so well. She had even asked his forgiveness for being unfair to him almost all their last school year, and her words were worth a lot for him.

     Most Weasleys had yet no idea that Harry was not only in relationship with Malfoy, but they were family and now even had a child. Arthur knew about Draco's abduction, of course, and that the reason of that was Draco's closeness to Harry. The man, however, had had no idea about Draco's pregnancy at first, and Snape, regardless of all their conversations and then allowance to correct the shreds of Levington's weak memories, hadn't revealed his godchild's secret. But there, of course, were a lot of survivors among the Death Eaters that during their interrogations would have mentioned Draco's condition (those who knew) and his participation in the entire situation as a hostage, bait, or whatever they would have called it. The Aurors would have contacted Draco, and Snape couldn't let it happen, therefore, he had also tried to convince Arthur to let him correct their memories, too, before they'd been interrogated. Mr Weasley decided that it had been too much. He was an honest Auror and what Severus had asked, had been against the law, to say the least of it. He had already broken the law, and had no idea how in the Merlin's name Snape had managed to get him involved in crime! No matter what Snape had told him, hadn't changed his mind, and it was then when Ron had interfered and had told his father that Malfoy had been pregnant with Harry's baby and had already had enough, so any additional stress could have done him even more harm. Snape hadn't even been mad at his ex-student for his big mouth, because he'd already considered telling the whole story, employing the pity play and hinting, just slightly, that Arthur would be responsible for drastic consequences to more than one life. Arthur had been torn apart by the situation; he'd never made up the cases like that. In the end, he had closed his eyes and allowed the crime to happen for the greater good: for young Malfoy's sake and for Harry's peace of mind, feeling that he owed the boy for what his daughter had done, and Severus, of course, hadn't forgotten to mention it to dispel the other man's doubts. It had taken Snape some time to make a good work, altering the memories of all the arrested Death Eaters to make everything look unsuspicious. Meanwhile, Ron had been helping his father to make a new report that never mentioned Draco's name.

     They all knew that sooner or later everyone would find out the truth, but they'd done their best to put it off. Knowing more than the others, Arthur had never reproached Ron when quite roughly his youngest son had made it clear for everyone else that he'd sided with Harry and supported his friend, as well as his choices, completely, not giving a damn what everyone thought.

     Now, looking at the sleeping face of his best friend's baby son, Ron knew that it had been worth every effort and argument with his family.

     The visit of his friends had put Harry in a good mood and, once they'd left, he returned to the bedroom a bit more optimistic. His son woke up again to have his evening bottle and after feeding him and changing his nappy Harry lay down beside Draco, still holding their little one. He kissed his lover's eyelids gently.

"...I thought I was going to lose you. I never had a real family, but now I have two of you, and I cherish it more than anything else. I love you, Draco, and miss you. Come back to me. Come back to us; we need you so much. Get well, love; don't make me worry like this," he whispered into Draco's ear sincerely and pressed his lips to it. He let the baby's tiny hands grasp Draco's fingers. Even if it wasn't like this, Harry liked to think that Draco could feel their touches, hear his words of love and support and their baby's voice. He wrapped his son up in a blanket and lulled him to sleep; and himself in addition. The boy was resting on Harry's chest, probably feeling comfortable when it was raising and falling rhythmically and smoothly, as Harry was breathing in his sleep. He usually didn't sleep in bed with Draco since the blond was ill and was on post-operative recovery, so it seemed wrong to disturb him like this, not including the first day of his unconscious state when Harry had just lain down next to him without thinking; now the sleep had simply overpowered Harry and all three of them were resting in one bed.

     He became aware of the strong feeling of hollowness, loneliness and loss, like something had been taken away from him, perhaps even a part of his soul. Why was he this hollow? Draco tried his best to think, to remember, to move. He didn't know for how long this desperate fight lasted, but, eventually, he felt that the control was slowly coming back, and he stopped feeling the periodically coming sensation of a free fall. He even felt that his leg twitched slightly and briefly, just like it sometimes happened to those who were falling asleep, which could often make them jerk awake. Soft whirlwind of incoherent thoughts pacified a little, as he concentrated on his breathing and realised that something was wrong with it. It took some time to understand that he was under the spell that was slightly forcing him to breathe and probably filtered the air. 'Was it that bad, so they had to cast it on me?' he thought dimly. Slowly he opened his eyes, but was unsure if he had enough strength to move. He seemed to be all alone in the room, but he didn't mind. And then he felt some unpleasant and tight sensation in his lower stomach, and decided to look what was wrong with it. Carefully he threw the quilt back and pulled his nightshirt up, trying to deal with the weakness and soreness of his entire body that was slightly reluctant to obey him. His heart and stomach clenched when he saw a very sensitive, reddened magical stitch from his navel down to his groin. He had a little cry over it; scared and confused. He'd really hoped that it wouldn't be necessary to cut him open, he'd felt uneasy even thinking about such possibility; but, to his dismay, it appeared, it had been unavoidable. For some reason, he remembered Levington with the sharp knife in her merciless hand, and the way she had pressed the blade to his belly. He shuddered at the memory and cast it away. On the other hand, he remembered that his child had almost been delivered before he'd had a lapse of memory, which meant he'd blacked out. Why had Pomfrey (who else?) cut him open then? But what troubled him most right now was his son's fate. He was terrified, thinking that his little one possibly hadn't survived the delivery. It made Draco panic. In spite of the soreness and dimness of mind, he tried to get up and it took time and a lot of efforts. He felt dizzy, and the magically stitched wound stung like hell. He hurt inside... Pain and worry were enough to make him weep again and he was on the verge of breaking down completely. The feeling of hollowness contributed to it, as he was feeling both hunger and the lack of the familiar heaviness of his baby. Tears ran down his distorted with pain face. Hardly standing on his feet, rather disoriented at first, he moved to the door, but stopped halfway, seeing a familiar baby's cot right there in the bedroom. Wondering why it was in the bedroom, he approached it anxiously, but slowly. The child was there... For good five minutes he stood there, looking at the napping infant, and at first he couldn't believe that the baby was his. Well, he could believe, but he'd got used to feel him inside, and now that he could finally see him, it seemed unreal. It was hardly surprising, given that he hadn't had a chance to see him right after birth. He'd even forgotten that he was in pain, enchanted by the sight of his long-awaited son. Soon the baby's eyes opened and looked back at Draco or past him. Judging by the bowlegs and smallness of the child, Draco decided that he hadn't been unconscious for too long (not for months for sure). He pulled the small blanket down and the baby's light shirt up to check his navel carefully. He saw that there was even no bellybutton yet; there was just a short, dried umbilical stump. Draco tried his best to put his thoughts in order and remember what he'd read in books about it. Since the stump was still there, it meant that it had been only days, a week, maybe, but not longer than that, fortunately. No, his infant still looked like a newborn, and Draco's stitch felt and looked very new as well, so he, hopefully, hadn't missed much. The child slowly spat the dummy out of his mouth, but didn't cry. There were only small noises that filled Draco's chest with tenderness. He took a small, delicate fist in his hand, brushed the small face with his fingertips, and then carefully took his softly gurgling infant in his arms and cradled him. 'I missed you so much,' he thought, looking down. He couldn't speak because of the spell that helped him to breathe, but he hardly cared, anyway. It wasn't easy to get back into bed and he was extra careful, because he took a child with him and because, despite the sea of emotions he felt, the pain was still there, he just didn't pay much attention to it, and this time the pain wasn't the reason of the tear that rolled down his face. His son's presence, however, pacified him, because everything about his little boy felt warm and dear to him.

     Harry quietly entered the room. The baby had been sleeping when Harry had left to have breakfast on the first floor of the house, and since it was still quiet, he decided that the child hadn't woken up yet. But when he came closer to the cot, he nearly gasped, as he saw that his son wasn't there. Snape was downstairs and no one else could take the baby. Confused he looked around and noticed that something was different. Last time he'd left the room Draco had been lying on his back on the right half of the bed. Now he was in the different position on the other half. Harry approached and grinned widely when he saw the breathtaking sight: both Draco and the baby were wrapped up in the cocoon of the warm quilt, and asleep. Pomfrey had warned him that Draco was going to wake up today; Harry just hadn't expected it would happen this early. Draco was lying curled up on his side; their son was almost on his back, safely pressed to his father's upper chest and held by his lean, but protective arm, wrapped around the small baby's body under the blanket. Draco's pink delicate lips were nearly touching the child's temple. Harry came closer and gently kissed his both blonds. He wondered how Draco had managed to get up and take the baby, in the first place; he must have been in pain. Silently Harry joined them in bed, making sure not to disturb them.

     He kept looking at his beautiful family and finally saw Draco opening his sleepy eyes. Harry knew that Draco needed a pain-relieving potion as soon as possible, and was ready to see a pained expression, but the blond seemed to be too sleepy to really feel the pain yet. Draco smiled softly and drowsily, seeing his lover in front of him and their son, still in the warm safety of his arms. Harry touched Draco's face gently and the blond leaned into the touch, closing his eyes in contentment.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly.
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To Find The Missing Lifeline