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Expecting the Unexpected	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21919 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its indicia are © JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. I own none of the copyright, and this fanfiction makes no money.

Chapter List
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Chapter three: Potter is Pregnant

Harry returned to the common room, headed straight for his dormitory, and was followed instantly by a very worried-looking Ron and Hermione. He saw Ginny, sitting on the sofa, cuddled into Neville and giving him a concerned look and wished, not for the first time, that things had worked out differently between them. But they had been apart for a year, and Ginny had grown close to Neville during Snape’s reign and their reformation of the DA. Besides, he thought bitterly, she’d hardly want a boyfriend knocked up with the spawn of Draco Malfoy, would she? They were still close, but they had a familial, rather than romantic, relationship now.

No sooner had Ron closed the dormitory door behind him and checked that Seamus and Dean weren’t there, he and Hermione pounced on Harry. He wearily curled up on his bed and retold the story, about what Pansy Parkinson had done, how the Room of Requirement had worked its magic, and how Draco had taken the news.

“Madam Pomfrey offered us the chance to terminate,” Harry said. “She said we’d have to talk it over and come to a mutual decision. But Malfoy and I both want to continue with the, er, pregnancy.” He smiled- the sort of smile that was merely rueful and not one of happiness. “I think it’s the first thing we’ve ever unanimously agreed upon in our lives.”

“Well, this explains Parkinson’s bizarre behaviour on the Hogwarts Express, mate,” Ron said, and Harry felt his eyes widen. Of course- he should have thought of that before. But then again, he had had rather a lot of other things to think about in the last few hours.

On the journey to school, Pansy had burst into the compartment Harry was sitting in with his friends, thrown her arms around Harry and begged for forgiveness for trying to sell him out to Voldemort, before planting a huge kiss on his mouth and winding her hands into his hair. He’d thrown her off straight away and sent a Stinging Jinx at her but not, apparently, before she’d managed to yank out a few hairs from his head. For the Polyjuice, obviously.

“And Malfoy really thought he was with you?” Hermione spluttered. She, of the three of them, was the calmest about Harry’s pregnancy, but the method of conception had left her absolutely enraged.

“Eugh! Harry, I’ve just realised something- that means Malfoy’s seen you naked! He’s seen your, you know,” Ron said, helpfully indicating the vague area of Harry’s groin with an open hand. “I mean, I know it’s not you you, but it was your body, right?” He let out a shudder, Hermione turned tomato red, and Harry groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands.

“Great,” Harry drawled. “I’ll just add that to the list of Reasons Harry Potter Is Never Leaving His Bed Again, shall I?”

“Are you coming down for dinner, Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

“I just said I’m never leaving my bed.” Hermione gave him a stern look. “Sorry, Hermione. I’m not hungry. I just want sleep. And I’ll hex the first person who says I have to eat for the sake of the baby,” he said, and Hermione quickly shut her mouth, evidently having just opened it to utter those exact words. He closed his eyes, and felt Hermione remove his glasses and run her fingers through his hair once in a tender manner, before placing his blanket over him. Ron patted him on the shoulder and muttered something about bringing Harry up some food in case he changed his mind later, and then the room fell silent as his friends left. Despite the events of the day giving his brain enough to think about for hours, and the fact it was only early evening, Harry found he was so tired he fell straight asleep, where he didn’t so much as stir until the following morning.

                                                                                                *

Harry woke up late the following morning. He’d fully intended to miss breakfast and take a long, soothing shower, but he hadn’t eaten since the previous morning (and what he’d consumed then had all been thrown up), and the food Ron had brought up for him the previous evening was no longer edible. Reluctantly, he hauled himself out of bed, washed and dressed quickly, and followed Ron down to the common room, where a flustered-looking Hermione was already waiting for them.

“I’m glad you’re coming down for breakfast, Harry,” she said warmly, her face breaking into a smile when she saw him. Harry realised that she was genuinely worried about him, and vowed to make an effort to eat properly in future. To stop her nagging him constantly, if nothing else.

The trio made their way to the Great Hall, where Harry noticed Malfoy was looking at him. He was sat at the end of the Slytherin table with the first-years, evidently given up all pretence that all was well in Slytherin now that Harry and the headmistress knew what was going on. Harry turned away from his gaze quickly, and reached for a couple of slices of toast. He actually felt hungry, and was grateful for the sensation.

He was buttering his second slice of toast when Pansy Parkinson, tears streaming down her pug-ugly face, marched into the Hall, strode over to Draco, and began yelling at him at the top of her lungs.

“Traitor! And on top of that, you’re a snitch as well! You’ll pay for this, Draco!” she shrieked. “McGonagall expelled me last night, ‘cause you can’t keep your treacherous mouth closed! I hope you’re happy with yourself, Draco, because I swear, it’ll be the last time you are!” With that she turned on her heels and stormed out of the Great Hall, as excited chatter speculating as to what on earth the bint could have done to earn expulsion broke out amongst the four house tables. Malfoy looked supremely unconcerned with his ex-girlfriend’s public display, Harry noted, but underneath he knew the Slytherin would be affected. He wore his Malfoy Mask too well, sometimes.

Aside from the earlier excitement, breakfast was as normal for Harry, until the inevitable happened.

“Hey, Seamus, can you pass me the scrambled egg, please?” Neville asked innocently. Seamus handed them over, holding them in front of Harry for the briefest of seconds as he did so. But it was enough. Harry felt his stomach lurch in an extremely unpleasant manner as the smell of the eggs reached his nostrils and he threw his hand over his mouth.

“Are you OK, Harry?” Ron asked, clearly worried. Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping the absence of the eggs, which were now several feet away from him, would stave off the nausea. But he knew it wasn’t going to be enough. Leaving all his school things and his cloak behind, he left his seat and dashed out of the Great Hall at a run, Ron closely on his heels whilst Hermione paused and collected up his belongings before following them. None of them noticed a concerned pair of grey eyes following them, as he, too, stood from his seat and left.

Harry just made it in time. He flung open the door of the nearest cubicle and threw up every last bit of his breakfast noisily into the toilet bowl.

“Mental note. Keep eggs away from me from now on,” he said rather breathlessly, as Ron handed him a wad of toilet paper to wipe his mouth on. Ron gave a nervous chuckle that didn’t really contain any humour.

“Noted. Look, Harry, shall we go and see Madam Pomfrey again? There must be a potion or something you can take that will help with the sickness.”

Ron helped Harry stand, who was surprised to find he was rather shaky, and Harry pulled the chain on the toilet before the pair left the bathroom. He was unsurprised to find Hermione waiting anxiously outside. He was surprised, however, to find Draco, looking just as anxious.

“Potter, are you alright?” he asked, as he handed Harry a bottle of water that he had collected from the Slytherin table for him. Harry reached out and took the water, pulled off the lid and took a huge drink, feeling dehydrated from all the vomiting.

“Yeah. No thanks to you,” he replied as he replaced the cap on the bottle, and pointedly patted his abdomen, but his voice lacked venom. “If I’m going to do that every meal time it’s not going to take people long to work out there’s something up, is it?”

“Well, mate, soon you’ll, you know, be all fat and stuff, and they’ll all work it out then anyway,” Ron helpfully supplied. Both Harry and Malfoy stared at him, slightly open-mouthed, whilst Hermione grabbed hold of Ron’s arm and dragged him off to Charms with a loud, “Honestly, Ronald, have you no tact?” leaving Harry, still recovering from his vomiting bout, alone with Malfoy.

“So, er, Parkinson’s been expelled then,” Harry said, choosing to completely bypass Ron’s insightful interjection.

“Good,” Draco replied, but didn’t elaborate. They began walking towards Charms together, in silence.

“Look, Malfoy, we’d better not walk into class together,” Harry said. “This whole situation is so deep into Bizarro World as it is, without everyone thinking we’re friends or something.”

“’Bizarro World’?” Malfoy repeated, mildly amused.

“Never mind,” Harry said quickly. “My point is… well, you get it. I’ve got a free period after lunch, can we talk then? If I haven’t died from puking my guts up by then.”

“Sure. Where shall we meet?”

“Anywhere but the Room of Requirement,” Harry said drily, gratified to see a huge flush of mortification creep up Malfoy’s face. “You’ve got your own room now, haven’t you? Behind the portrait of Eris and Dysnomia, right? I’ll meet you there.”

“Fine,” said Malfoy. “And, Potter, if there’s anything I can do…”

“Unless you happen to have a Time-Turner and can go back in time and not have sex with Parkinson in the first place, then no there isn’t,” Harry replied curtly, and turned without a backwards glance and strode into the Charms classroom and took his seat beside Hermione, leaving Malfoy slightly stunned-looking, standing alone in the corridor.

                                                                                                *

Harry finished lunch (thankfully a non-offensive meal of roasted ham, mashed potatoes and vegetables that he devoured- and kept down, much to the relief of his stomach) and made his way to the fifth floor. He found the painting easily and sat down on the floor, waiting for Malfoy to finish lunch and join him.

He didn’t have a long wait; five minutes later Malfoy appeared. He held out a hand to help Harry off the floor. Harry looked at it, laughed, and got himself up with ease, ignoring the offered support.

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” he said, noticing Malfoy’s slight wince at the word ‘pregnant.’

Draco whispered the password to the portrait and it swung open. He stepped inside and Harry followed.

The room was basic but homely. It was neutral in décor, giving no indication as to its inhabitant’s house. There was a comfortable-looking bed, an armchair, a wardrobe and set of drawers, and a desk and chair in the corner- the former of which was already covered in sheets of parchment and textbooks. A large window on the far wall revealed a clear view of Hagrid’s hut and the Forbidden Forest. The room was meticulously clean and tidy, but still carried a slight smell that indicated it had not been used in many years. A small door on the other side led to what must be a bathroom, Harry assumed. Overall he thought the room was rather lovely. He sat down in the armchair, resting his head on the beck. He still felt very tired, despite sleeping for fourteen hours straight the previous night. He wondered when he wouldn’t feel tired again, with seven months of pregnancy left, and then a newborn. He quickly banished that rather unpleasant thought from his mind.

Malfoy sat down at the chair by his desk, and was looking incredibly awkward. Harry noticed he was struggling for eye contact again.

“I meant it yesterday,” he said, after a period of uncomfortable silence, “when I said I was sorry.”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t really make me feel a whole lot better, to be honest,” Harry replied. “Malfoy, what the fuck did you think you were doing?” He realised he was starting to get angry. “To do- what you did- were you thinking at all? Why on earth would you think I’d want to sleep with you? We hate each other, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yes, Potter, you’ve made it perfectly clear you find me repulsive,” Draco snapped. “I wasn’t thinking, OK? Look, since May, everyone hates me. Your side hates me because my family chose to side with the Dark Lord and I have this fucking thing on my arm-” Draco rolled up his left sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark- not as black as it once was but still obvious- “and my father’s side hates me for what they see as a betrayal. We’ve been spat at, hexed, we’ve received death threats and numerous Howlers, and, to be frank, no one would cast Aguamenti on us if we were on fire. For ten crazy minutes someone wanted me. Or, at least I thought they did. It didn’t matter who that person was. I got carried away. It wasn’t my brightest idea, alright?”

And there was that uncomfortable, unwanted pang of sympathy in Harry’s chest again. Lucius he had very little sympathy for, but Malfoy and his mother… that was different.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. Look, it’s happened, and I’m really pissed off that you did that, and let’s not even pretend it’s not completely weird. But there are other things we need to discuss. The fact that two people who don’t like each other are somehow going to have to learn to get along because they’re having a bloody child together, being Priority Number One.”

“I don’t hate you,” Draco almost whispered. Harry blinked.

“What-” he began, but Draco put up a hand to quieten him.

“I can’t hate you, Potter. You saved my life. The Room was burning, I was about to die, and you came back for me. I’d never been so glad to see anyone in my life ever as I was when I saw you on that broomstick. You spoke up for my mother and me at our trial and kept us out of Azkaban. You were the one to finally rid us all of the Dark Lord. I wish I could go back to hating you. I wish I could take delight in the fact that I’ve well and truly stuffed up your life. But I can’t. I’m amazingly grateful to you, if truth be told.”

Harry just stared at Malfoy. That was by far the most candid he’d ever seen him be. The annoying pang of sympathy he felt was growing.

“You’ve not ‘stuffed up my life’,” he said finally. “It’s not like I never wanted kids. It’s just that it in my head I was going to have them at twenty-five, once I was a qualified Auror, Ginny, who would have been my wife by then, was going to be their mother, and I most certainly wasn’t going to be the one pregnant with them! And I wasn’t ever expecting to end up as a single dad at eighteen. And I certainly never expected to have a child with you. Harry Potter’s Grand Life Plan has disappeared as abruptly as if someone cast Reducto at it.”

Well, I just need you to know I really am truly sorry,” Draco said, with obvious sincerity.

“I know,” replied Harry.

“This isn’t how I imagined ever having children either,” Draco said. “I expected to be married off to some pure-blood witch- probably some Beauxbatons girl from an old family who’d had nothing to do with the war that Father chose for me. We’d be married after a brief courtship, I’d have the obligatory heir- a son, naturally- and follow Father into his business dealings, or maybe open my own apothecary or something, whilst she spent her days lunching and spending the contents of the Malfoy vault. I wasn’t supposed to have a child with the half-blood vanquisher of my father’s master, who is also male.”

“I guess your father won’t be hearing about this,” Harry said, unable to stop himself. The corners of Draco’s mouth turned up in amusement.

“He’ll have to know eventually, I guess,” he replied. “After all, this is his grandchild. But, no, for the time being, er, ‘mum’s the word’.”

“If you say so, Malfoy,” Harry said, experiencing a hideous jolt when the words ‘Lucius Malfoy’ and ‘grandchild’ were uttered in the same sentence. He checked his watch. “Shit! I’ve got Herbology in ten minutes; I really need to get going.” He bent down and grabbed his school stuff, letting out a small gasp of discomfort as the movement caused a sharp twinge low down in his abdomen. “I’m alright,” he said quickly, noticing Draco looked as worried as he had that morning when Harry was throwing up. “Madam Pomfrey said I might get ligament pain. All normal, apparently.” He swung his bag over his shoulder.

“It’s going to take a long time to put our history behind us,” he added. “But I’m willing to try if you are. For the baby, if nothing else.” He couldn’t yet say ‘our’ baby; that was just far too strange. He offered Malfoy a small smile and held out his hand. Draco looked at the outstretched and and quirked an eyebrow. He nonetheless took Harry’s hand.

“We’ll try to get along,” Draco agreed. “For the baby.”

“See you,” Harry said, and, realising he was late, made his way quickly out of Draco’s room and began heading towards the greenhouses.

                                                                                                *

“Are you OK, Harry?” Ginny asked, as she approached him. Harry was sat by the lake, enjoying the fresh autumnal chill against his skin- the coolness washing over his face was combating some of the nausea he had been feeling since dinner. The sun was very low in the sky now, casting a pink and gold glow over the Hogwarts grounds. The sky above it was a dark navy blue, the hint of the stars contained within it just beginning to peep through. Ginny shivered slightly and wrapped her cloak around herself tightly. “Hermione said you wanted to be alone for a bit, but Ron said you were down here and that I should talk to you. Do you mind if I sit down?”

Harry smiled at his ex-girlfriend and patted the ground next to him. Ginny sat down. “Harry, is there something wrong with you?” she blurted out, and Harry could hear the worry in her voice. “You’ve been quiet and pale for weeks. You missed lunch and dinner yesterday and returned to the common room yesterday afternoon looking like death, you dashed out of the Great Hall this morning at breakfast and were obviously being sick, and then you ate nothing at dinner this evening. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Gin,” Harry lied. He’d never been good at lying, particularly to those we was closest to, so he didn’t really know why he’d expected Ginny to believe him. She very clearly didn’t. Instead she snorted in contempt.

“I suppose ‘nothing’ is the reason you spent all day in the Hospital Wing yesterday, and why Ron and Hermione took you there after dinner, too, Harry?” she said, and Harry didn’t know what her voice contained more of: bitterness, sadness or fear. “Yes, I saw you going in there. I even called your name but I don’t think you heard me. I know I’m not your girlfriend anymore, but I still care about you, you know. And I thought we were still close.”

“We are, Gin,” Harry replied. He reached out for her hand, but she snatched it away.

“Then tell me! Harry, if you’re ill then you need your friends! Please, Harry, I’m worried about you.”

Harry thought back to what Ron had said that morning. People were going to have to know eventually. And Ginny wasn’t just ‘people’. She was someone he loved. He took a deep breath.

“OK. You’re right. Um, Ginny, I’m pregnant.”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed and her lips became extremely thin. “Fine,” she said coolly. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong that’s your business, but there’s no excuse for poking fun at me, you know.” She stood up and made to walk back to the castle, but Harry grabbed her arm.

“Ginny, please, I’m serious. Look, sit back down and I’ll explain the entire joke that is now my life to you.” There must have been something in his voice, or his face, or both, that was resigned and open, because Ginny’s own face suddenly softened, her mouth opening in shock, and she instantly sat back down.

“You’re really pregnant?” she whispered in disbelief.

“Yes. And you want to hear the punch line? Draco Malfoy is the other father.”

“Malfoy!” Ginny spluttered. Harry noticed she had turned extremely white. “How did you get… I mean, did you and he have… Are you…”

“I’ll tell you in a minute, no we didn’t, and no I’m not. Gay, I mean,” Harry said. “That is what you’re asking, right?” Ginny nodded. Harry tried not to think about the reasons why his ex was so ready to believe he might Seek for the other team. “Remember when Parkinson burst into our carriage and kissed me on the way to school? Well, that was the beginning of all this.”

He talked for the best part of an hour explaining exactly what had happened, with Ginny listening intently to every word. The sun had completely set by now, and the temperature dropped significantly. Ginny snuggled into Harry, shivering noticeably now, and he wrapped his cloak around them both, as they lit their wands to combat the sheet of darkness that had fallen. Moonlight was reflecting off the lake, giving the immediate surrounding area an ethereal glow. In fact, it was every inch the picture of a romantic scene: the boy and the girl, cuddled together in the moonlight- except for the fact that the boy was telling the girl he was knocked up with the spawn of a Malfoy, and the girl was going to return to the castle later and cuddle with a Longbottom.

“And that’s why I went to see Madam Pomfrey after dinner,” Harry said. “Morning sickness- which, by the way, is a stupid name for it as it should really be called ‘morning, afternoon and evening sickness’- apparently gets worse from about seven or eight weeks, which is why I’m really struggling at the moment. I just feel queasy most of the time, even if I’m not physically sick. McGonagall has informed the staff of what’s going on, so if I have to dash out of a lesson they know why, and Pomfrey gave me a potion this evening which contains an infusion of ginger, peppermint and chamomile which is supposed to help with the sickness. It’s taken the edge off I guess, but sadly an Anti-Sickness Potion can’t be taken in pregnancy because the foxglove is dangerous to the baby. Apparently it eases off after about twelve weeks.”

“Why is it when something like this happens, it always happens to you?” Ginny asked. Harry laughed. A sardonic laugh without much amusement.

“McGonagall said pretty much the same yesterday. I guess I’m just destined not to ever be normal.” His hand began stroking the grass, and he absently started plucking it from its roots, twirling the blades between his fingers until he was sure his hands were going to be covered in grass stains. “I was stupid to think I could ever have what everyone else had. I’m glad you’re with Neville now, Gin. He’s not a complete freak. I mean, even if we had got back together, you wouldn’t want me now, expecting Draco Malfoy’s baby, would you?”

“Don’t say that,” Ginny chastised. Harry noticed her voice was unsteady. “You’re not a freak, never think that.” She sniffed loudly, and Harry suspected she was crying. He instantly felt guilty. “I am really sorry we didn’t work out.”

“It was no one’s fault,” he replied. “That year apart changed everything. It changed us. I guess we just weren’t meant to be.”

“I do love you, Harry,” Ginny said. Harry smiled at her. She was bathed in moonlight too now, making her look like she was carved from the most expensive marble. She was beautiful. Truly beautiful. And yet, for the first time in two years, Harry realised the monster in his chest that he felt every time he saw, or thought of, Ginny was missing. They really were over. For good. And he felt okay about that. He suddenly felt a lot calmer, as if one worry had been lifted.

“I love you too, Ginny,” he replied, and kissed the top of her head. And he did love her. He loved her as he loved Ron, and Hermione, and the other Weasleys. And it was enough.

They sat together for a long time, in comfortable silence. The hoot of a nearby owl jolted Harry from his thoughts, alerting him to just how late it was. He aimed his wand at his watch and was surprised to see it was nearly ten. He’d been sitting by the lake for nearly four hours.

“We’d better head back before Hermione sends out a search party,” Harry said, “c’mon.” They both stood up and brushed the earth from their clothes, and headed towards the castle.

Life doesn’t always work out how you think it will, Harry thought as he walked, and maybe that’s OK. He was alive, something he’d never thought he’d be this time last year, had wonderful, supportive friends he loved and who loved him. And the baby he was carrying, whilst still not seeming at all real and still the biggest shock he’d ever received, well, maybe that, too, was a gift. It was his family, his blood. Perhaps things would work out all right after all.
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Expecting the Unexpected