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Expecting the Unexpected	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21915 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its indicia are © JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. I own none of the copyright, and this fanfiction makes no money.

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Malfoy,

Please let me come with you tomorrow night to speak with your dad. I know you’ve already refused but I really don’t want you to go alone. How about I come, but wear my Invisibility Cloak?

-Harry

                                                          *

Potter,

It is obvious I cannot talk you out of this, oh noble (read- idiotic) Gryffindor that you are.. So, fine. Come, if you insist. Just make sure you wear that damned Cloak, okay?

Now stop owling me. I’ve got an Arithmancy essay to write. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?

And, Potter? Thank you.

-Draco

                                                          *

Harry arrived in the entrance hall, and found Draco waiting for him, at exactly half past seven, as arranged. McGonagall (who had obviously heard the Howler along with the majority of the rest of the school) had given both of them permission to be outside the school grounds after curfew. Harry was dressed in layers; he unable to wear a travelling cloak due to the need for his Invisibility Cloak later on, and the weather was especially cold, even for November. He greeted Draco as he approached, noticing that Draco looked exhausted.

“You don’t have to come, you know,” Draco said. “He’s my father, Potter. He’s not going to hurt me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Harry replied, “but given you’re discussing our child, I kind of want to be there. You know, just in case. Besides, you look like you could use a friend.”

Harry hadn’t expected the transformation on Draco’s face that those simple words would cause; instantly Draco’s eyes shone a little brighter, more alive. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, and his whole posture relaxed slightly. And in that moment, Harry realised it was perfectly true- over the last few weeks they had, as absurd as it would have seemed at the beginning of their school year, formed a tentative but albeit real friendship. Ron and Hermione spent a lot of time on their own nowadays, and as much as they tried to include Harry, he felt they deserved time alone. They were a couple, after all, and didn’t need a third wheel all the time. Not that they ever made him feel that way. But it did mean he’d found himself spending a lot of time with Draco recently.

The pair made their way across the school grounds and exited through the gates. Harry could see his breath; he shivered. A frost was already beginning to settle, despite the relatively early hour. It sparkled under the light from the moon and their wands, making it look like fragile glass; sharp and severe, and gave a slight crunch underfoot.

“Wish we could Apparate,” he said wistfully.

“Me too,” Draco agreed. “But you know what Pomfrey said. Apparition in pregnancy should only be used in an absolute emergency as it can Splinch the baby, and, anyway, I had my licence revoked, didn’t I? Part of my probation, remember?” He began to count out the conditions of his probation on a gloved finger. “I have to be traceable, I have to complete my final year at school, I’m not allowed to leave the country at all during the probation period and my family had to pay a huge reparations sum.” He smiled wryly at Harry. “I don’t fancy Azkaban just ‘cause I didn’t want a walk in the cold.”

“No, I guess you don’t,” Harry replied drily.

The pair made their way as quickly as they could to the Hog’s Head. The temperature had dropped sharply under the cloudless sky, and Harry felt almost violently cold now. As they approached Hogsmeade, Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and slipped it on- both for additional warmth and for disguise.

“This is weird,” Draco said, turning his head towards where Harry was. “It’s like I’m talking to myself.”

“You’ll get used to it. Ron and Hermione did,” Harry’s voice said, as they finally reached the pub’s entrance.

Harry stepped inside, and noted that even though Aberforth no longer owned it (choosing to take retirement after the Battle of Hogwarts), the pub was still as gloomy and filthy as it ever was. However it was warm, with a small fire lit in the grate, and Harry sighed in relief as feeling began to return to his fingers. The relief lasted only a few seconds, however; Draco had stiffened next to him, and Harry followed his gaze. Sat at one of the tables, nursing a shot of Firewhisky, was Lucius. He reached up and touched Draco on the shoulder with an invisible hand in a supportive gesture.

“Good evening, Father,” Draco said as he greeted Lucius. Lucius looked up. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed his son, his face cold and emotionless. He checked his watch.

“Draco. Punctual, I see. Very good.” He knocked back the remaining Firewhisky and stood from the table. “I have procured a private room in which I wish to speak to you. Follow me.” He turned and began to walk out of the main bar. Draco followed, with Harry- still invisible- hot on their heels.

Lucius pushed open the heavy oak door and slipped inside. He kept his back to the door as he crossed the small room and lit a fire in the fireplace, allowing Harry to slip in completely undetected. The door closed behind him with a loud slam. Lucius reached for the bottle of mead on the table and poured himself and Draco a generous glassful. He handed it to Draco, who took it without a word of thanks.

“I am surprised you felt the need for such privacy,” Draco began, his voice laced with sarcasm, “given your little public message to me that arrived at breakfast. A Howler, Father? Really? I’d have thought such a public display of outrage was beneath you.”

Lucius gave his son a smile; not the type a father usually gave his son- the type Arthur Weasley would give to Ron- but the one a tiger may have given to an antelope just before he went for its jugular.

“Yes,” he said, in a tone of voice that almost sounded amused and made Harry want to hex him, “I thought my little letter would unsettle you rather more than a simple handwritten note requesting an audience with you could have. And it appears, mission accomplished. That said, I’d rather discuss the, ah, finer points, shall we say, alone. I have no more desire to discuss our family’s business in public than you do, Draco.”

“Fine. Then let’s get on with it,” Draco replied coolly. Harry had to admit he was impressed. Draco was standing his ground, he thought. Clearly the days where Draco idolised his father were over; gone was the spoilt brat who could convince his father to buy his way onto the Quidditch team for him with seven fancy broomsticks. In his place stood a young man, who had made some extremely poor decisions, but was trying to atone for them. The man who was finally thinking for himself and becoming his own person.

“As you wish, Draco. I’ll ‘get on with it’ then,” Lucius said. “I shall cut to the chase. Tell me all about your disgusting little tryst with Potter that, if my sources are correct- and don’t even think of pretending to me that they’re not- has somehow left the boy pregnant with your child.”

“I didn’t have a ‘tryst’ with Harry,” Draco said, clearly using Harry’s given name both to irritate his father and as a mark of their confirmed friendship. “I admit I thought I was, at the time, but none of this is his fault.”

Draco retold the tale- about Pansy, and the Polyjuice, and the Room of Requirement and its bloody magic. Lucius, Harry noted, grew paler as Draco talked, looking thoroughly appalled.

“Draco, when you first told your mother and me about your perversion, I made it perfectly clear that you were to be discreet. This is as far from discreet as possible, Draco! Thanks to your inability to control yourself, you have tainted our pure-blood line. A half-blood carrying a Malfoy child? A male half-blood, who also happens to be the most famous wizard in our world? You have disgraced us all.”

“I think you’ll find, Father, that if anyone disgraced our family then it was you,” Draco said, and Harry mentally applauded him. “If it wasn’t for him and his testimonies, we’d all be rotting in Azkaban right now. And I am gay, not a pervert. Mother has accepted me for who I am, is it too much to expect my father to as well?”

“What is your relationship with the Potter boy now?” Lucius pressed, ignoring Draco’s question.

“We’re friends,” Draco replied honestly. “He was angry with me when he found out what had happened, but we’ve worked through it. And first we just worked on being civil for the sake of the baby-” Lucius visibly flinched, which Draco ignored- “but now it’s actually a proper friendship. It may be seven years after I first offered him my hand on the Hogwarts Express, but he’s finally accepted it.”

“And do you want more from him than friendship?” Lucius asked. Harry noticed with a jolt to his stomach that Draco flushed at the question.

“That’s none of your business,” he snapped. Harry swallowed. Surely if Draco felt nothing but friendship he’d have just said it? He noticed his palms were sweating; suddenly the Cloak felt far too hot over his head. Harry had never considered the possibility that Draco might actually like him like him, despite what had happened with him and Pansy. Lucius seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

“I see,” he said, his lips curling in obvious distaste. “Draco, you will desist your… friendship with Potter, and distance yourself from his child. Regardless of his role in keeping our family out of prison, I will not have my son playing happy families with a half-blood.”

“And if I refuse?” said Draco, and Harry realised he was holding his breath.

“Then you’ll lose the Malfoy millions. The Manor. Everything,” Lucius replied, and Draco paled rapidly. Harry had to force himself to keep still and quiet; the surest way to make Lucius even more enraged right now would be to reveal he’d been present the entire time. A large period of silence fell over the room.

Eventually, Draco spoke. Harry was staring at him, his eyes boring into Draco. If he chose his father, if he rejected their baby…

“I always respected you, Father,” he said. “You ensured I had the best of everything. The best education, the finest food, designer clothing, luxury holidays. Even when I was fifteen and it became apparent I would be expected to follow in your footsteps and serve the Dark Lord eventually, I still respected and loved you. I took the Mark for you at just sixteen.

“But I am a man now- not that young boy who wanted nothing more than to be like you when I grew up. And I have seen what a lack of love can destroy. A true father- one who loved his child unconditionally- would never ask his son to walk away from his own flesh and blood, because he himself would know that such as request was impossible to grant- not for all the money in the world. So, Father dearest, take your millions, and your Manor, and anything else that you believe makes you so fucking superior to the rest of us, and kindly shove them up your arse.”

Harry wanted to cheer. He wanted to grasp Draco in a bear-hug and not let go. Draco had just given up everything he knew, for their baby. The realisation was almost overwhelming. He didn’t know how he managed to remain still and silent. He wished he had a camera. Lucius’ face was a picture; he couldn’t have looked more shocked if McGonagall had suddenly appeared in front of him and performed a striptease.

“Draco-” he began, and took a step closer to him. Draco folded his arms in front of him, clearly telling Lucius to back off, which he did.

“We have nothing else to say to one another,” Draco said. “I shall owl Mother in due course, to inform her I obviously will not be home-sorry, I mean, visiting your Manor- for Christmas.” He downed the rest of the mead in the glass he was still holding, calmly returned the empty glass to the table, turned away from Lucius and began heading for the door. Harry scrambled to his feet, and quickly followed Draco out of the room.

Only once they were both clear of the Hog’s Head did Harry remove the Invisibility Cloak. He realised Draco was shaking violently, and not from the cold this time. Harry hadn’t known how he was going to react to the events of the last half an hour or so, but Draco looked so lost, so devastated, that his actions came naturally to him.

“Hey,” he said gently, “come here.” He pulled Draco into a tight hug, which was instantly returned. He could hear Draco’s uneven breathing as he clearly fought for some control over his emotions.

“Fuck,” Draco said into Harry’s shoulder eventually, as Harry rubbed soothing circles into his back.

“Yeah, fuck,” Harry replied.

*

They made the journey back to Hogwarts in relative silence. Draco clearly didn’t want to talk, and Harry respected his wishes. Once they were on the castle’s grounds, he sent his Patronus to McGonagall informing her they were both back safely (using the memory of hearing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time in order to produce it). He turned to Draco.

“Want some company for a bit?” he asked. Draco nodded, and he and Harry made their way to the fifth floor, where Draco’s room was located. Draco said the password, and they entered the room.

“I’m glad you came with me,” Draco said eventually. It was the first words he’d spoken since those shortly after they’d left Hogsmeade. Harry was extremely grateful he’d pestered Draco to be allowed to come; the idea that Draco- and he was Draco in Harry’s mind now, not Malfoy- would have had to go through that alone had be not been there was horrible.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. Draco offered him a small, sad smile.

“Not your fault,” he replied. Harry noticed he still looked incredibly pale, and he was shivering despite the warmth of the room. Shock, then, Harry thought to himself. He stood and pulled the blanket from Draco’s bed, wrapping the blond snugly within.

“I’ll nip down to the kitchens for some warm milk for you,” he said.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one looking after you?” Draco asked.

“I’m not the one who’s just had a very nasty shock,” Harry said firmly, and left before Draco could argue.

Once Harry left, he had an idea. Draco really shouldn’t be left on his own that night, he thought. He quickly changed direction and headed for the stairs that led up to Gryffindor Tower, whispered the password, and stepped through.

It wasn’t late and the common room was still full of students- some doing homework, or playing Exploding Snap, or having a game of wizard chess. His housemates, at least, had accepted the news of Harry’s pregnancy without name-calling and whispering behind his back, and no one gave him an odd look as he entered. He spotted Ron and Hermione curled up together in Harry’s favourite armchair, got their attention, and indicated that they should follow him. By the time Ron and Hermione had entered the eighth-year dormitory, Harry was already packing his bag, with school robes and his textbooks for the following morning.

“All okay, mate?” Ron asked. Harry took a deep breath.

“No,” he replied. “I’m going to spend the night in Draco’s room. Lucius Malfoy is the world’s biggest cunt- sorry, Hermione,” he added quickly, in reply to Hermione’s glare at Harry for his foul language. “But you’ll agree with me when you hear what he’s done to Draco.”

He explained what Lucius had threatened Draco with, and Draco’s choice, as he packed. By the time he was finished, Ron looked sick and Hermione looked horrified.

“I never thought I’d feel sorry for the Ferret,” Ron said. “Lucius really is a complete cu-”

“You finish that word, Ronald Weasley, and you’ll be getting very acquainted with your right hand for the next month because you’ll be coming nowhere near me,” Hermione snapped. Both Ron and Harry’s cheeks flamed.

“Right. Um. I’m going to go away now,” Harry said. “Bye.” He left rather sharpish, bag slung over his shoulder not turning back to look at his friends.

He took a long detour via the kitchens for milk, and grabbed a plate of chocolate biscuits as well, and carried it all back up to Draco's room. He gave the password and entered.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Draco said, “you were gone ages.”

“Didn’t mean to worry you,” Harry replied. “I popped up to Gryffindor Tower to grab my stuff and explain things to Ron and Hermione. I’m staying here with you tonight, if you like.” He placed the milk and chocolate biscuits on Draco’s desk and let his back drop off his shoulder onto the floor.

They both took a biscuit and began to eat. Harry because he genuinely felt hungry (and slightly light-headed), but Draco, Harry suspected, merely for something to do.

“I’m really sorry,” Harry said eventually. “That I’ve caused you so many problems with your mum and dad. I never meant to.”

“I think we’ve established, Harry, that none of this is your fault. The only one at blame here is my father. If I’m still allowed to call him that,” Draco said, taking a large drink of his milk.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me ‘Harry’ this evening,” Harry replied. Draco let out a small laugh.

“We’re having a baby together. Surely that qualifies us to use each other’s first names?” he replied. Harry grinned.

“I guess so,” he said. He felt exhausted, despite it still being before ten in the evening. Damn early pregnancy. He tried to stifle a yawn, but was unsuccessful.

“Tired?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Do you mind if I go to sleep? I can’t keep my eyes open. Erm, I’ll take your armchair. It’s OK.”

“You will not,” Draco said. “You’re having my child. The least I can do is give up my bed for you.”

Harry knew it was a bad idea, especially as he was beginning to think Draco’s feelings ran deeper than friendship. So he almost surprised himself when he heard himself say, “It’s a big bed. We’ll share.” Draco gave him an unreadable look, but nodded slightly. Harry slipped into the bathroom, dressed for bed, and emerged back into Draco’s room. He’d already changed for bed in Harry’s absence. Harry crawled into bed and laid on his back, eyes closed and hands on his lower abdomen, which had become habit. His stomach had a slight convex to it already which was noticeable through the thin material of the T-shirt he was sleeping in; on anyone who was not as thin as he, it would not have been obvious at all, but on Harry it was. Draco noticed.

“You have a little bump,” he said, almost in awe. “He’s growing.”

“’He’?” Harry repeated, sounding extremely sleepy.

“Yes. There’s not been a female born with the Malfoy name in over twelve generations,” Draco replied. “It’s a boy.”

“I’m good at defying the odds,” Harry quipped. “Fifty Galleons says we’re having a girl. Night, Draco.”

He heard Draco utter a reply, but his brain was already switching off and he missed the actual words; he noticed the lights were extinguished with a spell. With a final yawn, Harry fell into a deep slumber.

                                                                                                *

When Harry awoke the following morning, his first thought was how warm and comfortable he was. His second, slightly incredulous, thought was that he was snuggled up in bed with Draco Malfoy. He checked his watch; it was only just after six. Desperate to avoid an Uncomfortable Moment should Draco wake whilst Harry was still in the bed and they were virtually cuddling, he got up, crept across the room, grabbed his schoolbag from the floor, and headed to the bathroom. He switched on Draco’s shower, stripped, and stepped in.

The hot water was extremely pleasant on Harry’s skin. He showered slowly, enjoying the rare luxury of not having to rush because there was a queue of Gryffindor boys waiting to use it. He picked up a few of Draco’s fancy bottles from inside the shower . He read the label on the two closest ones, held close to his face so he could read the words: extract of avocado and coconut oil in one bottle that appeared to be for hair, and a mint-scented body scrub containing crushed Brazil nut shells for exfoliation in another. He laughed, grabbed a third bottle that smelt of soap, and washed his hair and body, wondering what was wrong with the ‘two in one’ shampoo and body wash he used that he’d grabbed from a Muggle supermarket before term began.

He rinsed under the spray, shut off the water, and stepped out of the shower. Five minutes later he was dry, his damp hair as messy as ever, and he was dressed in his school uniform. He felt slightly sick this morning. Perhaps he just needed some breakfast.

He stepped back into Draco’s room, and jumped. Draco was awake, up, and dressed.

“Thank Merlin you’re out of the bathroom,” he said. “I’m desperate for a piss.” He dashed past Harry and closed the door. Harry busied himself by repacking his school bag, adding the previous day’s clothes to it, and by the time he was finished, Draco had emerged from the bathroom again.

“Shall we go down to breakfast?” Draco asked, and then his face fell slightly. “Unless, I mean, you don’t want to walk with me, in case it looks, I don’t know, suspicious or something.”

“I honestly couldn’t give a shit what anyone has to say anymore,” Harry replied. “And after last night I’m certainly not ashamed to be seen with you. Let’s go.”

They made their way to the Great Hall together, ignoring the whispered chatter, mainly from Hufflepuffs, that followed them. As they reached the entrance, Harry cleared his throat.

“Look, why don’t you come and sit on the Gryffindor table with me this morning?” he said. “You look fed up on your own at the Slytherin table.”

“Thanks, but no,” Draco replied. “I’ve already been driven from my dorm and my common room. I won’t be driven from my house table as well. I am still a Slytherin, and I’m proud of my house. That’s where I’ll sit.”

He made his way to his usual spot, by the first years. Harry saw Ron and Hermione enter the Hall, and made a split decision.

“Morning. Look, I’m going to sit with Draco for breakfast, OK? I’ll see you both in Transfiguration.” Without waiting for their response he dashed after Draco, sliding into the seat next to him. Draco looked up, surprised.

“I was almost Sorted into Slytherin,” Harry said. “I can eat one meal here.”

“You were almost Sorted here?” Draco asked, eyebrows raised.

“Long story. I’ll tell you some other time,” Harry replied, taking a bowl and filling it with cereal.

The owls arrived with the post. As usual, Harry received a lot of letters; he performed the usual spells to bundle them up to sort through later, but one caught his eye. It had the St Mungo’s crest on it. Harry withdrew it from the pile and slid it open.

Dear Mr Potter,

An appointment has been made for you in-clinic for Wednesday 18^th November at 4pm for an ultrasound scan. During the examination the Healer will check the foetus via ultrasound image. This is a Muggle technique which magic is yet to emulate. Please ensure you have a full bladder for the examination, as this helps the Healer get a good view of your baby.

The Department of Magical Pregnancy and Birth is located on our sixth floor, via pre-arranged Floo access only. I have arranged with Headmistress McGonagall for her to use the Floo in her office on the date of your scan. Please be prompt. You may bring one other person with you for the examination.

Yours sincerely,

Healer Moore, Healer-in Charge, Department of Magical Pregnancy and Births.

“Draco, look,” Harry began, but realised that Draco had received a letter of his own and stopped talking; the now-familiar black eagle owl belonging to the Malfoys had just dropped a (thankfully not red) envelope in front of Draco and taken flight. “Open it, Draco. It’s like ripping off a plaster. Sooner you do it, sooner it’ll be over.”

“What’s a plaster?” Draco asked, but he seemed to have got the gist of Harry’s analogy, for he was sliding the envelope open and removing a sheet of parchment. Harry watched Draco’s face carefully as he unfolded the parchment and began to read, noticing that as Draco did so, his face became more and more relaxed and the colour was returning.

“It’s okay,” he said when he finished reading. “It’s from my mother. Here.” He and Harry swapped letters, and Harry began to read the letter from Narcissa Malfoy,

Draco, darling,

I am beyond furious with your father. He had no right to make such demands of you, my love. But please know that am proud of the decision you made last night. It is the decision I would have made- would still make- if someone made me choose between my riches and you.

I will deposit a sizeable sum of Galleons in your personal vault today. The money is your birth-right and Lucius cannot control what I do with my own money.

He also informed me you feel unable to return for Christmas. I had already arranged to visit Andromeda, with whom, as you you know, I’ve been making amends now for several months. I have rescinded the invitation to your father, and request you join me there. You’re my son and nothing you could do would stop me loving you, Draco. Lucius can spend Yule alone in the Manor that is so precious to him.

So, please, come to Andromeda’s for Christmas. We’ll talk properly then. And remember I love you.

All my love,

Mother.

“Well, that’s good!” Harry said. He noticed Draco still looked slightly troubled. “Isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Draco replied. “I didn’t really think Mother would reject me- I mean, she lied to the Dark Lord to keep me safe. I know she loves me. And it’s wonderful I’m going to get to spend Christmas with her and Aunt Andromeda.” He still looked a bit distracted. “Um, Harry, about this ‘other person’ you’re allowed to bring to the scan thing… well, I mean, I really hope you’ll…”

“Yes, you stupid git, you’re coming,” Harry said. Draco brightened considerable after that.

“That’s good,” he said, and tucked into his breakfast, looking happier than he had in days, Harry thought.

                                                                                                *

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Harry asked Ron, his hands covered in dragon dung. Ron handed him the Venomous Tentacula, and Harry quickly replanted it. He wiped his hands on his protective robes.

“Going to The Burrow, as normal, mate,” Ron replied, a look of genuine confusion that he could be spending it elsewhere on his face. “Hermione obviously wants to spend it with her mum and dad, as they’ve only just come back from Australia. She wanted to me to come too, but I didn’t want to leave Mum, what with it being the first Christmas without Fred-” he suddenly looked sad- “so Mum and Dad have invited Mr and Mrs Granger over for Christmas Dinner. We’ve never had Muggles at The Burrow before. Dad is so excited.” There was a long pause. “I just assumed you’d be coming too, Harry.”

“Two minutes left!” called Professor Sprout. Ron swore loudly and reached for another Tentacula plant whilst Harry quickly grabbed another handful of dung and began mixing it with the soil.

“I’ve been thinking, actually,” Harry said. “I might spend Christmas with Andromeda. You know, she’s having her first Christmas without her husband and daughter, and I’ve not seen Teddy since August, and-”

“And Malfoy’s going?” Ron said pointedly. In response to Harry’s confused gaze he added, “Lucky guess. You two are certainly spending a lot of time together recently. I mean, I’m glad you’re not at each other’s throats constantly, as it makes it easier for you, what with the baby and everything, but this whole you-being-friends thing is just plain weird.”

“He has no one, Ron,” Harry reminded him. “All his friends have turned their back on him people try and hex him in the corridors every day, and now even his own father has all but disowned him. I feel bad for him, to be honest, plus he’s not so bad when he’s not acting like a prat. His mum owled him yesterday saying she was going to Andromeda’s for Christmas, and invited him. Apparently she’s about as happy with Lucius as I am.”

Ron placed the Tentacula in the soil, covered the roots, and he and Harry began to clean up their workstation. “Mum’s going to be disappointed,” he said eventually. But he gave Harry a supportive smile that let Harry know Ron wasn’t pissed off. “She was really looking forward to fussing over her ‘poor pregnant Harry’.”

“Then I’ll come over on Boxing Day,” Harry said. “And, Ron? Thanks.”

“No probs, mate,” Ron replied.

Harry couldn’t help grinning as he made his way over to the sinks and began to scrub dragon shit off his hands. That went much better than he thought it would have.

                                                                                                *

“I’m already desperate for the loo,” Harry said as he and Draco made his way to Professor McGonagall’s office. “Asking a pregnant person to have a full bladder is completely unreasonable, in my opinion. I hope we’re seen on time.”

They made their way up the spiral staircase and knocked on the Headmistress’ door, which opened.

“Afternoon, Potter, Malfoy. The Floo is ready for you,” McGonagall said. Harry thanked her, said a quick ‘hello’ to Dumbledore’s portrait, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. He tossed it into the flames and stepped in.

A quick shout of the required destination, and Harry was suddenly hurtling through the Floo Network. He felt incredibly unwell and just wished for solid ground, which he suddenly received. He stumbled dizzily out of the fire at St Mungo’s and promptly threw up on the floor.

“Merlin! Sorry,” he said to the Healer who was there to greet them. The Healer lazily Vanished the sick with a flick of her wand.

“Happens all the time, Mr Potter, I assure you. Pregnancy does make one more susceptible to Floo sickness,” she replied. Just then Draco arrived through the Floo as well. The bastard stepped through with elegance, grace, and with only the merest hint of soot on his robes, looking thoroughly unruffled. Harry was eternally grateful he’d gone first and Draco had missed his little performance upon arriving.

“Shall we begin?” Healer Moore asked. She led them both down the corridor (where Harry could hear a woman in labour, making him incredibly glad that he was going to have a caesarean), to a room with a sign that said simply, ‘Ultrasound’ on it. “The room is heavily warded,” the Healer explained. “Otherwise the magical energy would prevent the equipment from working. It’s Muggle, you see. I must ask you both to perform no magic whilst you’re in here.”

They entered the room and the Healer erected the wards. The light was low. There was a small bed which Harry laid on when instructed, whilst Draco sat in the chair next to him. There was a machine with what looked like a small TV screen atop; Harry could see his name written on the screen.

“Magic is sufficient to determine foetal health in nearly all pregnancies here,” the Healer explained. “But for high-risk or unusual pregnancies, such as yours, it is on occasion necessary to get a look at the foetus. And we simply don’t have charms for looking inside the human body. Hence the use of the Muggle method.”

She lifted Harry’s T-shirt up and pulled his trousers down slightly, tucked some tissue paper into the elastic waistband, and applied a cold jelly to his abdomen. She took a probe- thing in her hand and pressed it quite firmly into Harry’s stomach. After a minute she smiled and turned the screen to Harry and Draco. Harry’s breath hitched and he heard Draco’s do the same.

There was their baby. A very tiny, but perfectly formed little person.

Harry felt Draco’s hand slip into his own, but didn’t for a second take his eyes from the screen. The Healer spent time pointing out all the features and taking measurements. He vaguely heard her mentioning medical terms such as, “Fully-functioning placenta,” which he guessed was a good thing, but he barely heard her now. For he was looking, for the first time in seventeen years, at at his own flesh and blood (not including the Dursleys, which Harry didn’t), alive and healthy. He tried to say something but found he had a lump in his throat and was unable to speak.

“Stunning,” he heard Draco say. “Just… Merlin, Harry, the Muggles have really come up trumps on this one.”

The Healer ended the scan then, and handed Harry some tissue to wipe of the ultrasound gel. “No magic,” she reminded him. He cleaned up quickly with the tissue and stood up. “All looks perfectly healthy, Mr Potter. Everything is measuring perfect for thirteen weeks,” she said. “Congratulations.” She handed Harry a piece of photographic paper, and Harry grinned widely when he saw it was a picture of the baby. She handed one to Draco, too, who looked thrilled.

Harry barely remembered the return journey through the Floo (other than he didn’t throw up this time). He excitedly greeted Professor McGonagall, who had a rare display of affection over the scan image, and was desperate to find Ron and Hermione to show it them. At the bottom of the spiral staircase, however, Draco grabbed him in a fierce bear-hug.

“Amazing, Harry,” he said. He pulled away slightly from the hug but didn’t let Harry go. “Thank you.”

Harry swallowed. Draco was looking at him weirdly. He suddenly realised what Draco was going to do a second before he tried- Draco began to lean in for a kiss.

“I need to find Ron and Hermione,” Harry said, ducking gently out of Draco’s hold, and not quite catching his eye. His heart was pounding. “I’ll see you later.”

He quickly headed for the stairs, not looking back at where he knew Draco was still standing, hoping he’d catch his friends in Gryffindor Tower before they went down for dinner. He had a huge amount to think through- the scan, mainly, which had been one of the best moments of his life. But also the niggling feeling that he was trying to ignore. The feeling that part of him, even if it was small, that had really wanted to let Draco kiss him just a moment ago.
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Expecting the Unexpected