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

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter Six: Confusion and Questioning

“Oh, Harry, it’s gorgeous,” Hermione gushed.

“They have your nose,” Ginny cooed.

“Blimey, it’s a baby,” Ron said, as if he’d only just realised.

Harry beamed at his friends. “It was amazing,” he said, taking the scan picture back from Hermione. “I really wish you all could have come, but I was only allowed to bring one person, and Draco’s the dad, and I couldn’t have chosen between you guys anyway, and-”

“Harry, it’s okay,” Hermione cut in. “We understand. But I’m so happy to see this. And don’t think for a second I’ve not noticed you have a bump! Oh, this is so exciting!”

“I didn’t notice your bump, mate,” Ron said, as they made their way out of the dorm in order to head down to dinner, whilst Hermione and Ginny walked on ahead, happily discussing baby names.

“It makes me very pleased that you’re not staring at my stomach,” Harry replied with a grin.

All in all, Harry thought he’d been rather successful at banishing Inappropriate Draco Thoughts. For five minutes, at least.

*

The next few weeks passed relatively easily for Harry. The sickness was all but gone now he was in his second trimester, but in its place was a definitely growing bump, that meant he could no longer button up his trousers or school shirts, and had to have Hermione magically alter them. It was also a lot more noticeable- he clearly had a defined lump jutting out from his school robes now. Even Ron noticed it now.

The inevitable had happened about a week after Harry’s ultrasound, and the Prophet had published an article about the pregnancy, but even that surprised Harry- the piece had actually been rather complimentary; Harry supposed that defeating Voldemort six-and-a-half months previously still carried some respect in the media. More surprisingly was that the paper had kept Draco’s name out of the report. Harry wondered if Lucius had paid someone off in order to keep the Malfoy name from attracting yet more unwanted attention. It had meant an increase in post, however, so McGonagall arranged to have all mail from contacts Harry hadn’t pre-approved delivered straight to the Owlery, rather than have it hound the Gryffindor table at breakfast, which was actually an improvement on the previous situation.

The school had finally got bored with gossiping about him, and had moved on to a supposed love affair between Flitwick and McGonagall, which no one really believed yet still enjoyed discussing. He was enjoying his new-founded peace and quiet.

Yes, life would have been rather great, if it wasn’t for Harry’s growing confusion as to the nature of his feelings for Draco.

It wasn’t as it he’d ever thought of Draco- or any man, for that matter- in a sexual way, before Draco tried to kiss him after the scan three weeks previously. And whilst neither he nor Draco had mentioned it, and Draco had certainly not tried to kiss him again since, Harry often caught himself daydreaming about threading his fingers through that white blond hair and pressing his lips to Draco’s. He just didn’t understand it.

*

Wednesday 9^th December 1998. I am 16 weeks pregnant.

Hey, baby. You’re getting quite big in there now, you know! And I still have 24 weeks-ish- to go. How far can my belly stretch? I wonder if it’ll end up like a scene from 'Alien' and you’ll explode out of my stomach? Eugh, I hope not. That would just be too gross.

Draco- that’s your other daddy, remember- (Although I expect you’ll have to call him ‘Father’ or ‘Papa’ knowing him) is still convinced you’re a boy. I’m not so sure. Something just tells me you’re going to be a little girl. And my instincts usually turn out right.

I think I have felt you move, but I’m not sure so I’ve not told Draco. But it feels like there are little Snitches fluttering in my tummy, or bubbles popping. I think it’s you. Either that or I have a really bad case of trapped wind! But I like the idea of it being you far better.

About Draco. Yeah, I just had to go and make this even more complicated than it was already, didn’t I? And I don’t know what to think or feel now. What if I do something reckless, like actually kiss him, and it turns out the feelings were all in my head and I hate it? And I totally balls up our friendship?

We watched Quidditch together last weekend. Gryffindor Vs Slytherin. I obviously can’t play at the moment. Draco isn’t playing either. The Slytherin team didn’t exactly want him back this year. It was weird just watching, but Auntie Ginny is a great Seeker and Gryffindor won 210-50. I can’t wait to take you flying for the first time. I got my first broom when I was one- from Sirius. You’ll be the same age, no doubt.

It’s Christmas in a couple of weeks. I’m going to Andromeda’s. My godson, Teddy, lives there. He’s only 8 months old. I’m going to spend a lot of time with him. Lots of practice I guess for May!

Love you, baby.

All my love, Daddy xx

*

“Harry. Harry. Harry!”

Harry finally came back to himself with a jump. “Sorry, Hermione, I was miles away,” he said. He’d been thinking about Draco again- a moment three days ago when Harry had told Draco the story of setting the snake on Dudley at the zoo, and Draco had roared with laughter. It was the first time he’d ever seen Draco laugh- proper belly-laugh, and he had looked gorgeous, just letting go like that. Harry switched off that particular train of thought and switched his mind back to his breakfast. He realised he was stirring a spoonful of salt into his tea. “Oh, bugger. Pour me another cuppa would you, Ron?”

Ron dutifully poured out another cup of tea and handed it to Harry, who received it with thanks and stirred sugar into it this time.

“I was just going to ask you if you needed help on your Transfiguration essay this afternoon,” Hermione said. “It’s due in tomorrow.”

“Oh! Um, yeah, thanks,” Harry said, taking a sip of his too-hot tea. He chanced a glance at the Slytherin table. Blaise was sat with Draco this morning. He was saying something clearly meant for Draco’s ears only, and Draco was smiling slightly. Harry didn’t care. Honestly. And he certainly didn’t feel jealous. No, definitely not.

“Harry, what did that piece of toast ever do to you?” Dean asked suddenly from the other side of the table, and Harry looked down at his plate, surprised to find a small pile of shredded toast there, with the remainder of the slice tightly bound in his clenched fist.

“Ah. Um. Nothing?” Harry said. He looked at the Slytherin table for the fifth time since breakfast had begun. Blaise was whispering something in Draco’s ear now, and Draco’s cheeks pinked slightly. Harry felt the stirrings of the monster in his chest, awakening after its months-long hibernation, and swallowed quickly. “Right. I’m going.”

He stood up abruptly, threw his coat over his weekend outfit of stretchy tracksuit bottoms and woolly jumper, and all but marched out of the Great Hall. He didn’t get very far before he heard Ginny calling his name.

“Wait up,” she said, and jogged to catch him up. When she reached him she linked her arm through his. “Right, we’re going to talk,” she said. She all but dragged Harry to the main entrance and the pair entered the snowy Hogwarts grounds.

Harry really didn’t want to sit out in the freezing cold snow, but thankfully it became apparent that Ginny didn’t intend to. They made their way to Hagrid’s hut, and Harry suddenly remembered that Hagrid was spending the weekend in France with Madame Maxime. Ginny opened the door, lit the fire in the grate with a quick Incendio, and busied herself with the kettle on the stove. “Tea? You barely touched yours at breakfast.”

“Ta, Gin,” Harry said, and sat down.

“So, are you going to tell me about it?” Ginny asked, sliding a steaming mug of tea towards Harry. He took it from her, nursing it between his chilly hands, revelling in the warmth it radiated to his slightly numb fingers.

“Tell you about what?” Harry replied.

“About what’s going on with you and Malfoy,” Ginny said bluntly. Harry choked on the large gulp of tea he’d just taken. “Oh for Merlin’s sake, Harry. Anapneo.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, once the tea had been removed from his windpipe and he’d stopped coughing. Then, deciding he really did want to talk to someone about this, said: “Remember that night by the lake? When I told you I was pregnant? You asked me if I was gay, remember? And you weren’t particularly surprised or shocked when you thought for a moment that I was. Why was that, Gin?”

“Why did I think you could be gay?” Ginny asked. She had a mischievous smile on her face; the type of smile that used to melt Harry’s heart. “I don’t know for sure. Maybe because of your great fashion sense, your obsession with your looks, or maybe it was because your hair always has to be perfect before you’ll step outside the common room. Or perhaps it was-”

“Yeah, OK, hilarious,” Harry drawled. “Now a serious answer?”

“Fine,” said Ginny. “I didn’t actually think you were gay, as such, but I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind. Do you remember that Saturday we spent in your dorm, the weekend everyone else was out by the Great Lake with that picnic? A few days before Dumbledore died?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed. He remembered it well. He wasn’t able to go to the Lake with everyone else as he had to serve detention with Snape for almost slicing Draco in half with that vile Sectumsempra spell. It had finished around two. Once it was over, Ginny had come and found him and they’d spent the remainder of the afternoon in bed- clothes on- doing very little except snogging and some over-the-clothes exploration of each other’s bodies. It had been great. He nodded.

“Can you remember what I wanted you to do, Harry?” Ginny continued.

“Of course I can. You wanted me to take your virginity,” Harry answered promptly. Ginny nodded.

“And you refused.”

“And that was why you thought I could possibly fancy blokes?” Harry replied, incredulous. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with you? Gin, I told you at the time why I wouldn’t. You were only fifteen. That’s why.”

“Most sixteen-year-old boys, when in bed with their girlfriend, wouldn’t turn down sex when it was offered,” Ginny said, “just because it was still a whole two months until she turned sixteen. I figured you either had the morals of a saint, or you were gay.”

“That’s a massive leap to make, from one incident,” Harry said, feeling slightly offended. Of course he remembered the day clearly. He’d been so tempted. He’d nearly agreed. But it just hadn’t seemed right at the time.

“But was it a wrong leap to make?” Ginny probed. Harry took off his glasses, buried his face in his hands and let out a huge sigh.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually, through his fingers. Ginny reached out her hand and pulled Harry’s hands away. “I’ve never had any feelings for men, ever. And I genuinely was attracted to you, Gin, and you’re wrong about that afternoon. I was extremely tempted. But the last couple of weeks, I…”

“Have developed feelings for Malfoy?” Ginny asked. “C’mon, Harry, I saw you staring at him this morning, murdering your toast because he and Zabini were all chummy-chummy. And it’s not the first time; you’re either sat at the Slytherin table or staring at it.”

“You’ve noticed?” Harry said. Ginny laughed.

“Harry, the Giant Squid would have noticed.” Harry glared at her. “Well, OK, not quite- but I have, and I’m pretty sure Hermione has. So, why don’t you start from the beginning and we’ll work through this whole sexual identity crisis together.”

Harry took a deep breath, took another gulp of rapidly-cooling tea, and began to speak. About how Draco had all but admitted he had feelings for Harry, then tried to kiss him days afterwards. How Harry had dodged the kiss but realised afterwards there was a part of him that was disappointed it hadn’t happened. And that ever since he’d found himself growing steadily more and more attracted to Draco. It felt good, he realised, to be sharing this. He’d bottled it up inside for the best part of a month. He felt oddly liberated, like he was no longer carrying round a dirty little secret.

“And if I go for it and hate it, I could ruin our friendship,” Harry continued. “I can’t do that, Ginny. I really can’t. I’m just so confused. For all I know, I could be feeling the way I do ‘cause he’s the other father of my baby and we have a bond- of sorts- for life, and it might not be about sex at all.”

“Well,” Ginny said. “How does the idea of touching his cock sound to you?” Harry turned absolutely scarlet.

“Ginny!” he exclaimed. Ginny ignored him.

“Well, how does it?”

Beyond mortified, Harry replied, “I don’t know. But I… I think I, um, yeah. It sounds kind of, er, nice.” He ran his right hand through his hair, fought back the image of a naked Draco that was threatening to form in his mind, and then downed the rest of his tea, which was now stone cold and revolting.

“Like, ‘wank to the idea of’ nice?”

“I’m not fucking answering that.”

Ginny laughed. “look, Harry, it’s perfectly normal for gay men to be attracted to, and have relationships with, the opposite sex in their adolescence, and only realise their sexuality once they reach adulthood. Some men don’t realise it until they’re in their twenties or older and they’re married to women. Charlie says he didn’t discover he was gay until he was twenty-three, met Rasvan on a night out in Bucharest, and fell head-over-heels for him. And if you’re having genuine sexual feelings for Malfoy, then I’m quite certain we can rule heterosexuality out for you and it’s not just a ‘phase,’ or to do with the pregnancy.” She checked her watch. “Oh, fuck! I was supposed to meet Nev twenty minutes ago. Sorry, Harry.” She stood up, grabbed her winter cloak from the back of Hagrid’s chair, and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. “Be true to yourself, okay? We’ll all still love you, you know.” She ran her hand down his arm, gave him a small smile, then left.

Harry watched her go, then quickly washed up the mugs and kettle before leaving himself. On the walk back to the castle, Harry had to concede Ginny was probably right. Straight men didn’t dream about the things he had recently. He cast his mind back to one awkward moment six nights previously, where Ron had woken him from sleep, quite convinced Harry was having a nightmare due to the thrashing and mumbling Harry was doing. Harry- thankful that the darkness was hiding several things at that moment he’d much rather Ron couldn’t see- had reassured him it was ‘only a bad dream’ and he was fine, and Ron had returned to his own bed and fell almost instantly back to sleep. Harry, however, was wide awake- well, at least a part of him was. He’d slipped his hand into his pyjamas and quickly finished the job that Dream Draco had begun, cursing pregnancy hormones and the stupid vivid sexual dreams they caused (and wondering how he was going to survive another almost-six months of it).

He entered the castle again in a relatively good mood; it really had helped to talk to Ginny and work through a few things. So he was startled when he saw Hermione, white-faced and slightly manic-looking, rushing towards him.

“Thank God you’re back,” she said, somewhat breathlessly. “I was just coming to get you. We just saw Ginny and she said you were down at Hagrid’s hut. Harry- it’s Draco. He’s been attacked.”

*

Harry took off at as much of a sprint as he could manage. Being sixteen- nearly seventeen- weeks pregnant with a somewhat sizable bump did rather restrict Harry’s movement, yet he still made it to the Hospital Wing before Hermione could catch him up. He threw open the doors to the Hospital Wing, and scanned the room. He quickly spotted Blaise Zabini, looking rather shocked standing over a bed that must have been Draco’s. Heart thumping madly, Harry made his way over.

Madam Pomfrey was casting healing spells as he approached.

“No major damage, Draco,” she said with a small smile, pocketing her wand, and Harry felt a huge surge of relief course through him. “You’ll live. I’ll just fetch some potions for you.” She said a quick hello to Harry, then left. Harry instantly took the seat next to Draco’s bed.

Draco looked bruised and bloodied, but the damage seemed to be superficial- cuts and lacerations to the skin mainly, plus a huge black eye. Harry noticed the pot of Bruise Removal Paste on the table next to the bed, and recognised the strong smell of Arnica.

“Hey,” Draco croaked. Harry grabbed his hand, not giving a flying fuck that Zabini was watching.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied. “Draco- what happened?”

“Nott and Goyle happened,” Draco said, his face twisted into a grimace. “Both followed me up to my room after breakfast, and started on about how their fathers were in prison whilst mine walked from the Wizengamot scot-free. Then Goyle started on about how it was my fault that Crabbe died, that their families had only served the Dark Lord because my family had, and if it wasn’t for us then Crabbe would still be alive. When I pointed out that Crabbe was the one who conjured the Fiendfyre, not me, Goyle lost it and… well, you know how burly he is. Thankfully Blaise turned up and Stunned him and Nott before they got a chance to really hurt me though.”

Boiling hatred surged through Harry. He was going to kill them. He clenched his fists into tight balls so his nails dug into his palms and gritted his teeth.

“If you’re alright now, Draco, I’m going to go and meet Daphne,” Blaise said. “We’re supposed to be going to Hogsmeade together today.” Harry’s heart lightened somewhat- the way Blaise said that left no doubt that Daphne was his girlfriend. He wasn’t flirting with Draco this morning. He said a cheerful goodbye to Blaise as he left, thanking him for his help.

“He might not be so lucky next time. Look after him, Potter,” Blaise called back once he reached the door.

“Blaise is right, you know,” Harry said, once the door had closed and they were fully alone. “I don’t want you left vulnerable again.”

“What do you propose we do, oh mighty Saviour?” Draco drawled. Harry grinned. Draco wasn’t that badly injured if he was still making sarcastic jokes. “I’m serious, Harry. You can’t be with me all the time.”

“I’ll move in with you,” Harry said. Even as the words left his mouth he was wondering if it was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever had. “We break up for Christmas on Friday, but after that I’ll stay in your room.” Draco laughed.

“Like McGonagall would allow that,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning on asking for her permission,” Harry replied. “And we have Transfiguration, Potions, Defence and Charms together, and Hermione will walk with you to Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.”

Just then Madam Pomfrey returned with an armful of potions.

“Healing Draught, Blood-Replenishing Potion, and Sleeping Draught,” she said. “You’ve not lost a huge amount of blood but it won’t hurt to take this. And you need to rest, so make sure you take this one,” she said, indicating the small phial containing a purple potion. The matron dashed off once more then, busying herself with an unknown patient behind the curtains at the far end of the ward.

Draco dutifully swallowed all his potions, and his eyes began to droop. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said sleepily. Harry wiped some of the blood, which was beginning to cake onto his skin, away from Draco’s bottom lip with his thumb, lingering for a second longer than he probably should have. Draco hummed gently and smiled slightly, then fell asleep. He looked so young and peaceful when asleep, slightly violet eyelids shut revealing long eyelashes. The bruises had virtually gone now. The Bruise Removal Paste had done its job. In place of the bruises was perfectly pale, unmarked skin. Harry couldn’t stop himself. He leant over and placed a soft, gentle kiss on Draco’s cheek. It was over almost as soon as it began, but it was enough. Harry sat back in his chair, lips tingling, his pulse quickening. He felt as if he’d just received a very small, let albeit real, electric shock. Suddenly, there was no confusion as to his feelings whatsoever. Everything was suddenly incredibly clear.

Harry had fallen for Draco.

*

Draco was released from the Hospital Wing the following morning, in time for lessons. As arranged, Harry was already waiting for him to escort him to the dungeon for Potions. Harry was delighted to see that a day of rest, potions, and charms had restored Draco to normal. It was impossible to tell just by looking at the blond that anything amiss had taken place the previous morning.

“You look well,” Harry said, with a yawn. He’d sat with Draco all the previous day, refusing to leave until Pomfrey kicked him out of the Hospital Wing at around eleven. He’d told his friends how he was doing, Ginny shot him an annoying knowing look more commonly seen on the face of Hermione, and he fell into bed.

“Better than you,” Draco said. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Course,” Harry said vaguely. “Um, shall we get going? I can’t wait to see what potentially lethal concoction Slughorn wants us to brew today.”

Nott wasn’t present in Potions. Nor did he show for Charms, and Draco said that he wasn’t in Arithmancy either. Harry sat with Draco at the Slytherin table at lunchtime, and noticed that Goyle was missing too.

“McGonagall spoke to them last night,” said Blaise. Harry hadn’t heard him approach and jumped violently, dropping his forkful of casserole. “Both have been suspended until after the Christmas holidays, and when they come back they’ll be put on probation. One toe out of line and they’re expelled.”

“Good,” Harry snarled. “’Cause if they so much as look at Draco again, I’m going to annihilate them.”

“You will not,” Draco said quietly once Blaise had returned to his seat next to Daphne. “You are pregnant and you won’t be getting into fights with anyone. OK?”

“But-” Harry began, but Draco put a hand up to stop him.

“I don’t care if you are Harry bloody Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord with a simple Disarming Charm. You will not put our baby in a potentially risky situation, OK? Stop being a reckless Gryffindor for five minutes and show some Slytherin self-preservation. You don’t have to fight every battle. Let McGonagall and the rest of the staff sort this out.”

Harry was strangely moved. Yes, he knew Draco was concerned for the baby, but he also knew that there was a part of Draco that was worried for Harry’s safety. His heart swelled.

“OK,” he said eventually. “I promise I won’t go looking for them. But I will defend myself- and you, if necessary- if they come looking for us.”

“That’s fair,” Draco said, and began to eat. Harry snorted. Potter and Malfoy, compromising like mature adults? Snape would be turning in his grave.

*

The remaining four days leading up to the Christmas holidays seemed to drag, yet were packed with last-minute tasks that needed finishing at the same time. Harry had a check-up with his Healer the day before school broke up, where both he and the baby were proclaimed perfectly healthy, but she gave him a Portkey that would bring him straight to the maternity ward at St Mungo’s should there be an emergency over the Christmas period.

Harry spent a lot of time with Ron and Hermione in the last week as well, as he was going to be spending reduced time with them over Christmas. He hadn’t forgotten what Ginny had said about Hermione being suspicious about Harry’s feelings towards Draco, but unless she brought the subject up he was was leaving it for the time being. Harry was sure of his feelings now, but the week was so busy with end of term assignments to complete etc., that he hadn’t had the chance to discuss it with Draco. Not that he even knew how to start the conversation. “Hey, Draco, I’ve decided that I do want to snog your face off after all,” just sounded stupid.

I’ll talk to him over Christmas, Harry thought to himself. We’re going to be together for two weeks. The thought of being alone with Draco for this amount of time was both exciting and terrifying. And it left him somewhat distracted as he made his way to the Thestral-drawn carriages to take them to Hogsmeade station. This Christmas was going to be a good one. Harry just knew it.
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Expecting the Unexpected