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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven: Christmas

Harry and Draco emerged from the Hogwarts Express, both feeling excited. Draco’s excitement, Harry assumed, was down to seeing his mother in a couple of hours’ time. But, whilst Harry would be lying if he said he said he wasn’t really looking forward to seeing Andromeda and Teddy, his excitement was all for the two weeks he had ahead with Draco.

He said goodbye to Ron, Hermione and Ginny (who had ridden the Express to keep Harry company, and were all Apparating to The Burrow from King’s Cross), and promised them he’d see them on Boxing Day. He saw Ginny saying an emotional goodbye to Neville and didn’t so much as feel a pang of jealousy. As soon as his friends had Disapparated, he turned to Draco with a grin.

“Ready to conquer your fears about Muggle transport?” he asked. Draco swallowed but nodded. They stepped through the magical barrier and emerged onto the Muggle side of King’s Cross.

Unwilling to make a large Floo journey due to the nasty nausea and sickness it caused, Harry had convinced Draco to travel to Andromeda’s via Muggle train, pleading with him that the Floo journey to The Burrow on Boxing Day would be more than enough for him. Draco had agreed, as Harry knew he would, and it lightened his heart to know that Draco was doing this for him, despite clearly hating it. He fumbled with the notes in his wallet and stood in front of the automatic ticket machine in slight confusion (what did he know about travel ‘zones’?) but eventually managed to purchase Underground tickets.

“You sure the Muggles won’t notice your bump?” Draco said in a low tone as he and Harry headed for the escalators.

“They don’t notice anything. They’re Londoners,” Harry replied. “Look.” And true to Harry’s words, hundreds of Muggles were bustling around them, hurrying down escalators and full-speed, clearly desperate to catch the next train rather than wait a whole two minutes for another one, or had their nose buried deeply in their copy of the Metro. No one was looking at, or in any other way interacting with, anyone else around them. “Besides, if any do notice, they’re hardly going to think I’m pregnant, are they? They’ll just think I’m a bit tubby around the waist. But this coat hides most of the bump anyway.”

Harry quickly explained how the Tube map worked, and showed Draco where they were and where they needed to get to, which was Waterloo Station. After deciding they needed to change at Oxford Circus, Harry led Draco to the Victoria Line. He realised that Draco was breathing heavily and was slightly panicked.

“For someone who spent as much time underground in the Slytherin Dungeons as you, I’d have thought you’d be used to this,” Harry teased good-naturedly. Draco glared but didn’t answer.

They stepped onto the southbound platform which had a couple of hundred Muggles already waiting. They’d managed to arrive in London bang in the middle of the evening rush hour. The closeness of all the people was making Harry very hot and uncomfortable; there was no fresh air circulating on the platform. He became aware of the familiar sickness in his stomach that he’d not felt for a few weeks now, and also a little faint, and suddenly wished they’d taken the Floo after all. Draco must have realised, for he reached into his rucksack and pulled out a bottle of water, perfectly chilled, which Harry accepted gratefully. He also felt a cool breeze wash over him, and noticed the tip of Draco’s wand poking discreetly out of his sleeve. Harry could have kissed him.

Just then he heard a low rumble, and in the next moment a train shot out of the tunnel, filling the entire length of the platform. “That’s a train? Where’s the engine, the steam?” he heard Draco sneer, but Harry ignored him, pulling him instead towards the doors.

Everyone tried to push into the train before letting others off, then, once on, ignored the driver speaking over the intercom instructing passengers to fill up all the space inside the carriages and not stand right in the doorways. He saw a sign, ‘Please give up this seat for the elderly, disabled, or pregnant women ’ and laughed wryly. He could have killed for a seat right now.

“Are you OK, Harry?” Draco asked quietly. He’d positioned himself almost as a human shield, preventing any of the Muggles from accidentally pushing against Harry’s stomach.

“Yeah. Will be,” Harry said. “I’ve not been on the Underground much before. Just remembering I don’t particularly like it.”

They got off the train at Oxford Circus and changed to the Bakerloo Line. The train was less packed this time and Harry managed to get a seat at least, even if Draco had to stand. By the time they reached Waterloo Station and rode the escalator up to the ground again, the sickness had all but gone.

Harry checked the timetables on the wall, and discovered there was a train leaving for Petersfield in thirty minutes’ time. Draco again left him to buy the tickets.

“Muggles may have trumped us wizards when it comes to medical apparatuses,” Draco said, once Harry returned from the ticket booth, “but they travel like cattle being packed off to market. That. Was. Horrible.”

“It’s London at rush hour,” Harry replied.

“Rush hour? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make much of a difference in London,” Harry replied. “That was the worst part of the journey. The rest of the journey won’t be so bad. I bought seats in first class, so at least we’ll be comfortable.” That seemed to cheer Draco up.

They had about twenty minutes until the train departed so they bought some sandwiches from the station and looked at the shops (with Draco fascinated by Tie Rack, wanting to know if it was normal for Muggles to suddenly need to buy a silk tie or a set of cufflinks just before setting off on a journey), then made their way onto the platform, where the train was already waiting. They found seats in a quiet area of the first class coach, and attacked their food, having not really eaten since breakfast that morning. The train filled up, the guard blew his whistle, and they set off. The journey to Petersfield was only just over an hour from London. Harry had been to Andromeda’s over the summer, and the house was lovely. She’d moved after the war, saying her old house reminded her too much of her late husband and daughter, and not in a way that was helping her accept their deaths. She’d chosen the Hampshire town as it was quiet and quaint, and virtually all Muggle; a good place to heal, she’d said.

The train left London. Harry pointed out some of the low-flying aircraft as they made their descent into Heathrow, and Draco was astounded, wanting to know how they stayed up in the air. When Harry informed him that he and Arthur Weasley had something in common, Draco flushed and muttered something unintelligible, but no doubt uncomplimentary, under his breath.

They reached Guildford station, and the train virtually emptied. Harry and Draco were the only passengers remaining in their carriage.

“This is near to my aunt and uncle’s house,” Harry said.

“Are you ever going to properly tell me about them?” Draco said.

“Maybe. One day.” Harry stared aimlessly out of the window as the train began to move once more. “I don’t really want to… Oh, wow!” Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry beamed at him, thoughts of the Dursleys removed from his mind completely. He checked and double checked to make sure they were alone in their compartment. “Draco, she just kicked me!”

Draco’s eyes widened, then a huge, genuine, smile crossed his face.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “I thought I felt her move a couple of weeks ago, but now I know I definitely did. Here.” He took Draco’s hand and placed it on his stomach. They waited a couple of minutes but then Harry felt the tiny nudge from inside again. Draco’s smile became impossibly wide.

“I felt him,” he whispered in wonder. “That’s- I- oh, Harry…”

They both stared at each other for what felt like an impossibly long time, grinning like a pair of morons at each other, then, just as he had that afternoon after the scan outside McGonagall’s office, Draco began to lean in. Harry closed his eyes, having no intention of stopping it this time. He could feel Draco’s breath tickling his lips…

“Tickets, please!” called a voice from the door of the carriage. Harry and Draco both jumped and flew apart. Completely dazed, Harry rummaged in his pocket for the wallet containing the tickets and handed them over with a slightly trembling hand. The guard took the tickets and punched a hole in them before handing them back. Harry swore under his breath and returned the tickets to the wallet once the guard had exited the carriage. Moment ruined, he proceeded to stare out of the window at the southern English countryside for the remainder of the journey.

                                                                                                *

Harry and Draco jumped in a taxi once they’d exited the station at Petersfield.

“Heath Road West, please,” Harry said to the driver, and he and Draco settled back to enjoy the journey. Eventually they pulled into a road that lay adjacent to a lake, Harry gave the driver the number, and the taxi stopped. Harry handed the driver a note, told him to keep the change, and they exited the cab.

The house was modest in size compared to those around it, but beautifully kept. The front garden was filled with rose bushes, which Harry knew were stunning in the summer months. There was a brand-new BMW 5 Series in the drive, which led to a pretty two storey house with large bay windows and stone-cladded walls. It looked every inch the house of a perfectly respectable middle-class Muggle.

“Aunt Andromeda lives here?” Draco asked, studying the house, which was quite clear to see thanks to the light of a street lamp overhead.

“No. I just thought I’d bring you to a random address then go on a mystery tour,” Harry drawled. “Course she does. I told you she was living in a Muggle area.” They made their way up the path and Harry rang the bell. Andromeda opened the door.

“Harry! Draco! So good to see you both,” she said warmly, giving them both a hug as they entered. Narcissa was standing in the doorway of the living room. She beamed when she saw Draco, and he all but flew to her, hugging her tightly to him.

“My son,” Narcissa said, then spoke in his ear, so only Draco could hear. Harry took off his coat, and both Andromeda and Narcissa stared at the bump.

“Oh my,” Andromeda said. “Oh, Harry, you’re really blooming.” Narcissa didn’t say anything, she simply stared, her expression one of both disbelief and amazement.

“That’s your grandson, Mother,” Draco said through a huge smile.

“Granddaughter,” Harry replied. “Well, actually, we don’t know, and won’t until the birth. But Draco’s convinced it’s a boy, and I think we’re having a girl.” Andromeda gave a small laugh, but Harry noticed her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. He realised with a terrible jolt that this time last year Tonks was pregnant, and only about 4 weeks ahead of what he was now, and she and Remus would probably have been having a similar conversation, making plans for their future as a family. He suddenly felt incredibly awkward, wondering if perhaps he should have gone to the Weasleys after all. Andromeda seemed to pick up on this and hugged him warmly once more.

“I’m extremely glad to see you, Harry,” she said sincerely. She patted his bump- the only person besides Draco, Hermione and Ginny who had touched it. “Both of you. This baby is a blessing for our family.”

They sat in the living room. Andromeda popped upstairs to check on Teddy, who was sound asleep, then returned.

“Kreacher will have dinner ready for eight. I hope that isn’t too late for you,” she said. “Thank you again, Harry, for giving him to me- he really has been invaluable these last few months. It’s taken a huge amount of pressure off me.”

Dinner was wonderful. Despite their earlier sandwiches on the train, both Harry and Draco wolfed down everything on their plate. Harry said a quick hello to his former house-elf, before Kreacher disappeared into the kitchen, to prepare the pudding. After dinner, Narcissa asked Draco to talk privately with her, and they remained in the dining room whilst Harry and Andromeda returned to the living room. She switched on her television (she said this was the one Muggle device Ted couldn’t live without and she’d become very used to it over the years) and the pair watched a documentary on the BBC about Antarctica. It had nearly finished by the time Draco and his mother returned from their talk, both looking happy, and Narcissa slightly red-eyed. Harry suddenly realised he was exhausted, giving a huge yawn, which he unsuccessfully tried to stifle.

“Tired, Mister Potter?” Narcissa asked. “I remember that well from my pregnancy with Draco. I just had no energy the entire time. Of course, he was also two weeks late, and it was an incredibly hot summer, by the time I finally went into labour. I was ready to hex anyone who talked to me. And then of course I was in labour for fourteen hours and he was nine pounds. Draco was rather a fat child.”

“Call me Harry, please,” Harry said, trying not to laugh at the scandalised expression on Draco’s face, “and, yes, I’m knackered. We’ve been travelling since ten this morning. Would it be terribly rude of me if I turned in for the night?”

“Of course not, Harry,” Andromeda said. “You and Draco are sharing the room you stayed in over the summer, if that’s OK. Sorry you have to share, but Narcissa is in my other spare room.”

“No! That’s fine,” Harry said, almost too quickly, then cursed himself inwardly for being a complete prat. “Thank you. I shall see you all in the morning. Goodnight.”

He wearily climbed the stairs, entered the room, and grabbed his pyjamas from the rucksack that Kreacher had already brought up for him. He crossed the hall to the bathroom, washed and dressed for bed, then practically fell into the bed upon his return to the bedroom. He was instantly asleep and didn’t so much as stir when Draco came up to bed, a couple of hours later.

                                                                                                *

Harry was awoken around six the following morning by the sound of Teddy crying. He heard Andromeda comfort him, then eventually make her way downstairs with the still-crying infant. He got out of bed and made his own way down, taking care not to wake Draco.

Andromeda was in the living room when he entered, a roaring fire in the grate, with a special ward Harry really needed to learn the charm for preventing the crawling Teddy from being able to touch the flames. She looked exhausted. He felt a massive pang of sympathy.

“Morning, Harry,” Andromeda said with a yawn. “Oh, excuse me. He was up twice in the night.”

“I’ll feed him,” he offered. “Go and get some more rest. It’ll be good practice for me.” Andromeda shot him an incredibly grateful smile and handed him the bottle she was about to give Teddy. Teddy turned and spotted Harry for the first time. He reached out his chubby arms for Harry to pick him up, his hair turning the exact shade of black that Harry’s own hair was. Harry chuckled, switched on the TV, found BBC Breakfast, and in the crook of his arm he positioned the tot, who reached out, grabbed the bottle, and put the teat in his mouth.

“Hungry this morning, Teddy?” Harry laughed, as Teddy sucked greedily on the teat.

“Da,” Teddy gurgled, and spat out a mouthful of milk.

“Yeah, I’d spit it out too. This formula stuff tastes like cra- er, not nice,” Harry said. Teddy returned to his bottle, and by the time he’d finished it five minutes later, his eyelids had drooped and he’d fallen back asleep.

And that was how Draco found Harry an hour later, curled up half asleep on the sofa, watching a news story about some Muggle actor who had cheated on his wife with another man, Teddy sound asleep nested in Harry’s arms, thumb in his tiny pink mouth.

                                                                                                *

That set the pattern for the following few mornings. Harry would get up when he heard Teddy awaken, give him a bottle and change his nappy, and then either play with him or let the tot doze on him until everyone else got up for the day. Harry found he very much enjoyed his mornings alone with his godson; the baby had grown so much in the few months since he’d last seen him. Harry vowed not to miss such a large portion of his life again.

On Christmas Eve, it was Narcissa who joined him first in the living room. Teddy was awake and crawling around (Harry having learnt the spell to ward the fireplace). The pair had been getting along fairly well since their arrival.

“Good morning, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry said. Narcissa smiled at him.

“I’ve requested you call me Narcissa, as you requested I use your given name, Harry,” she said. She sat down on the sofa next to him. Harry was dressed only in pyjama bottoms and an old T-shirt; his almost eighteen weeks bump was poking out of the bottom of it, the material not quite stretching enough. Harry caught Narcissa looking, and he suddenly felt self-conscious.

“My apologies, Harry. I didn’t wish to make you feel uncomfortable,” Narcissa said. “You have a very neat bump. When I was carrying Draco, I’m afraid I carried nothing like you. My bump was all over the place. Pregnancy seems to really suit you.”

“The baby’s moving,” Harry said. “Would you like to feel?” Narcissa beamed and nodded. Harry gently placed her hand on his abdomen, and was almost instantly rewarded with a small kick. Narcissa sucked in a sharp intake of breath.

“Incredible. Thank you, Harry, for this wondrous gift,” she said. “I know my husband does not share my sentiments, but that is his loss. I am honoured to welcome your child.”

“And it’s not a problem for you that the baby is a half-blood?” Harry asked.

“I admit, I would have preferred a fully pure-blood grandchild,” Narcissa began, “but I’m not like Lucius. I won’t abandon my own flesh and blood over a matter like blood status. Not when I know the damage it causes to families.” She paused and looked around Andromeda’s living room. Her eyes fell to the photograph of Tonks and her father that took pride of place on the mantelpiece. “It tore our family apart once, and it took a tragedy for bridges to be rebuilt. I will not see that happen again. Besides, the child has three pure-blood grandparents, and comes from two old, prestigious pure-blood families, the Potters and the Malfoys. The child is three-quarters pure-blood. That’s good enough for me.”

Harry felt a jolt of annoyance at Narcissa’s proclamation that the baby was ‘good enough’, but realised that even this was a massive step for Narcissa to be taking, given her views on non-pure-bloods prior to the end of the war.

Kreacher bought them some tea and toast then. Harry cut one of the slices into soldiers and hoisted Teddy, who had crawled over to the table, pulled himself up and was opening his fat little fist and trying to grab a slice, onto his knee and handed him a soldier. Teddy began to gum the toast happily; his face was soon smeared with butter and toast crumbs.

“I wanted to talk to you alone,” Narcissa said eventually, having merely nibbled at her own slice of toast. “I remember the day Draco revealed his sexuality to my husband and me vividly. I won’t lie- when he told me about himself I was disappointed. Lucius believed that Draco would still do the honourable thing- marry a witch and produce an heir. I knew differently. Draco preferred the company of males. It was very unlikely he would take a wife simply to please his father.”

Harry bit into his toast, wondering where the conversation was leading. Teddy had finished his toast soldier and was trying to grab Harry’s toast from its plate, so Harry quickly handed the baby another piece. Teddy laughed and scrunched the toast into his fist, then smeared butter onto Andromeda’s chairs. Narcissa drew her wand and muttered a quick Cleaning Charm.

“I understand Draco has had a very hard time this term, Harry,” Narcissa said. “And I am fully aware of how magnanimous you have been towards my son. Given the acrimonious history between the two of you, it would have been understandable if you had refused to allow Draco anything to do with your child. That you have accepted him and befriended him- helped him through this difficult time with his housemates, and are going to allow him to be a father- Harry, I owe you my sincere gratitude, once again. You have given him what I thought he’d never have.”

Harry blushed somewhat. Narcissa patted him awkwardly on the hand. She wasn’t a particularly tactile woman; Draco seemed the one exception to that.

“But be cautious with him. I know my son. And he cannot hide his feelings from me. Draco may like to play the cool arrogant Slytherin, but the past couple of years have taken their toll on him. He has had to re-evaluate everything he thought he knew, everything he believed in. And it’s left him emotionally vulnerable. He could easily be hurt by, ah, misinterpreted feelings, shall we say. If he is indeed misinterpreting them?”

Harry’s blush increased, as it became clearer where the conversation was heading. He was not having this discussion with Draco’s mum. He just was not.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Harry said eventually. “I have no intention of upsetting him. I- I like him too.”

That’s all I needed to know,” Narcissa said, smiling. “You know, Harry, it may not have been your life I was desperate to save, back in the Forbidden Forest, but I’m extremely glad I saved you, nonetheless. You’ve given my son something he’s had precious little of for two years. Hope.” She stood up and brushed away the crumbs Teddy had dropped into her lap from her dress robes. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your breakfast.” She left the room.

“Wuf?” said Teddy, then blew a loud raspberry.

“Exactly,” replied Harry, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

                                                                                                *

Christmas morning was a lot of fun, if mixed with sadness for those who were not there and should have been. Harry wondered if he should have just bought Teddy a giant roll of wrapping paper, given that was all he played with; the cuddly dragon lay the paper had encased completely forgotten. He’d bought a book for Narcissa (which Draco had chosen) from a Muggle antiquarian bookshop in the town centre, and had bought Andromeda a photo frame with the words, The ones we love never truly leave us, engraved on the side. Inside the frame was a photo of Tonks and Remus, holding a newborn Teddy.

“Dumbledore said it to me a few years ago,” Harry said, as Andromeda hugged him tightly.

Draco handed Harry his gift: a small platinum signet ring, with an emerald set into the metal. Harry laughed.

“Buying me Slytherin jewellery now, Draco?” he said. Draco rolled his eyes.

“I should have known a philistine like you wouldn’t know its significance. The emerald is the birthstone for the month of May. I thought once the baby was here we could put their name and birthdate on the face of the ring.”

Harry was speechless. He had to swallow back the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Draco, it’s… it’s gorgeous. Thank you,” he said, with full sincerity. He couldn’t believe he’d received such a gift. He handed over the present he’d bought for Draco- a soft grey Cashmere scarf and dragon-hide gloves. Not nearly as thoughtful as the gift he’d received from Draco, Harry cursed himself, but Draco loved them nonetheless.

Harry received a Floo call from Ron at around eleven, and he wished him a Merry Christmas.

“How’s your mum?” Harry asked. Ron grimaced slightly.

“I heard her crying this morning,” Ron said. “And she’d put Fred’s stocking on the fireplace and filled it with a Weasley jumper. But she’s bearing up OK. I think having the house full is helping, plus Bill and Fleur announced over breakfast that they’re expecting a baby too, which she’s delighted about. It’s hard but we’re doing alright.”

“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Harry promised. “Just have a bowl ready the other end for me to hurl into as soon as I arrive.” Ron gave a soft laugh.

“Will do. See you tomorrow, mate,” he said, and disappeared with a soft pop.

Christmas lunch with a thing of beauty. Harry initially thought they were having turkey, when Kreacher brought the bird to the table, but once it was carved it was clear it wasn’t. He stared at the meat in obvious confusion. Draco laughed.

“Goodness gracious, Harry. It’s a ballotine.” Harry blinked. Draco sighed. “It’s two boned birds with one stuffed into the other. This is a pheasant and woodpigeon ballotine, with stuffing. It’s delicious.”

Harry accepted the slices of meat onto his plate with some trepidation, and added vegetables and beautifully crisp roast potatoes and a delicious rich gravy (which Andromeda, Draco and Narcissa called a ‘jus’- rather pretentiously, Harry thought. As far as he was concerned, it was bloody gravy). He placed a small bit of the meat into his mouth, and was surprised to find it was delicious.

Teddy had a small bowl of mashed potatoes, carrot batons and some of the meat cut into tiny pieces. Most of it was in his hair (which was bright orange to match the food), as he picked up handfuls of potato and smeared it over his person with delight. He held out one of his carrots for Harry to take a bite.

“Thanks, Teddy,” Harry said, nibbling the vegetable, and Teddy giggled, before shoving the carrot up Harry’s nose, causing him to splutter, and resulting in much laughter from the rest of the table.

Main course devoured, Kreacher then brought out the dessert. There was traditional Christmas pudding, which Harry didn’t like anyway so didn’t try (and it contained rather more alcohol than was probably safe in pregnancy, given Andromeda’s slightly slurred speech after her portion), and a toffee pavlova filled with thick Guernsey cream. Harry said a silent thank you that he no longer had sickness after eating, and tucked heartily into his slice, savouring every mouthful of the sweet crispy meringue. His tongue darted out to lick a blob of cream from his lips, and caught Draco staring at him, mouth slightly open. Harry’s cheeks flushed and he returned to his pudding quickly.

Once that had been finished, and Andromeda, Draco and Narcissa had a glass of sherry each (Harry had refused any, despite Narcissa’s insistence that ‘one glass won’t hurt’,) they returned to the living room, and Andromeda switched on the television to watch Mary Poppins.

“It’s always on during Christmas,” she said. “And it was Nymphadora’s favourite film when she was a little girl.” Draco scoffed at Mary Poppins’ ‘magical’ ability, and the fact she was performing it in front of Muggles.

“It’s just a story,” Harry reminded him gently.

“So, you’ve never heard of a ballotine,” Draco teased, once Julie Andrews began to sing ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’. “What do you usually eat for Christmas dinner?”

“Well,” Harry said, feeling slightly annoyed, “last Christmas I think Hermione and I had some stale bread that we had in our tent, having only just managed to escape from Voldemort twelve hours previously.”

That shut Draco up.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“’S OK,” Harry said.

The rest of the afternoon was a lot of fun. They played cards, watched more mindless Muggle television (a rare treat for Harry now, and a completely new experience for Draco), and played with Teddy. Harry gave him his bath and put him to bed, then collapsed on the sofa. He was exhausted. He knew he needed to talk to Draco, and soon. Something was happening between them, that much was clear. But the conversation could wait, for just one more night. He hauled himself off the sofa and padded up the stairs to bed, wishing he could simply Apparate up them. He fell into his bed, thinking that he’d talk to Draco the following evening. Definitely. After he’d visited the Weasleys. It was his new plan.

He should have learnt by now that his plans always turn to shit.

                                                                                                *

Harry was standing in the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow, next to the grave of his parents. It was clearly Christmas time; the local Muggle shops were decorated, and he could hear carol singing coming from the church. A few flakes of snow began to fall.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” Harry said, as she conjured a wreath of Christmas roses and laid it on the grave. Suddenly the dream shifted; Hermione had disappeared and in her place was a toddler who had not yet reached their second birthday- a little girl with black hair and green eyes. She whimpered slightly in the cold. Harry scooped her up and cradled her protectively. They exited the graveyard. An old woman was staring at the Potter cottage.

“Bathilda,” Harry whispered, pulling the child closer to him. She nodded and began walking, tentatively, up the cobbled path.

They entered a small house which was in a state of disarray. Harry placed the girl on the floor next to him, taking the matches from Bathilda and proceeded to light the candle for her. The flame lit, Harry reached out for the little girl once more. All he grabbed, however, was a white, bony hand. He looked up. Voldemort was standing in front of him, holding the girl in one of his arms. Harry heard him hiss in Parseltongue and Nagini emerged from the body of Bathilda. Harry screamed.

“Give me the girl,” he pleaded. Voldemort laughed.

“No,” he said, in the cruel, high voice. “You took my life from me, Harry Potter. Now I will take the life of your child, as I did your parents, too.”

Harry raced towards Voldemort but found he couldn’t get close. He pulled his wand and tried desperately to get close, but he couldn’t. Voldemort drew his wand and pointed it at the girl, who was sobbing.

“No!” shrieked Harry, but Voldemort merely laughed.

“Avada Kedavra!” he yelled, and green light shot out of the wand, slamming into the little girl in his arms, and she sobbed no more…

Harry’s eyes flew open. He was drenched in sweat, he was breathing hard and he could feel his pulse racing. To his mild embarrassment he realised his eyes and cheeks were wet. He looked at the luminous display on his wristwatch; it was just after one in the morning.

“Fuck,” he said aloud to the darkness, his voice shaky. Then he jumped out of his skin when he realised Draco was leaning over him.

“Sorry,” Draco said. “I heard you shouting out. I’ve been trying to wake you for a couple of minutes. Harry- are you OK?”

Harry reached out for his wand and cast Lumos letting the gentle light fill the bedroom. “Yeah. Bad dream,” he said. He was still dangerously close to tears. Draco had clearly noticed.

“Want to tell me about it?” Harry shook his head. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes. “Oh, shit. Harry, come here.” He climbed next to Harry in the bed and pulled Harry into his arms, running soothing fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry took a deep breath as he felt himself calm down. He placed a hand on his stomach and felt a reassuring little kick, as if to say, ‘see, Daddy? I’m safe’. He left out a shuddering breath of relief.

“The nightmare. It was about the baby, wasn’t it?” Draco asked gently, having clearly noticed Harry’s reaction to the kick. Harry nodded but said no more, and Draco didn’t push the issue. He simply placed a hand on Harry’s stomach. “He’s fine. I promise you he’s fine.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said. “Thanks.” He suddenly realised that he and Draco were in bed together, and cuddled up at that. Draco’s fingers were still carding his hair soothingly. His pulse quickened again- for a different reason this time. His earlier plan- to talk- suddenly seemed so unnecessary. Words were just words. He needed to act. Harry summoned his Gryffindor courage and threaded his own fingers in Draco’s hair. He couldn’t see Draco’s face, so angled himself differently, and looked straight into Draco’s eyes, not removing his fingers from the soft platinum hair. Their faces were just inches apart now. Draco was giving him an appraising gaze; his teeth were worrying his bottom lip.

“I didn’t imagine it,” he said eventually, more to himself than to Harry, and in an incredibly soft voice. “I didn’t, did I? The day I was in the Hospital Wing. After I’d taken a Sleeping Draught. I thought it was my mind playing tricks but… Harry, you kissed me, didn’t you?”

Harry didn’t answer with words. He simply pulled Draco towards him, closing few inches that were separating them, and pressed his lips to Draco’s. Draco gave the smallest gasp of surprise, and then he was kissing Harry back, and it was warm, soft, and passionate.

Harry had only kissed two other people until this point. Cho, whose kiss Harry could only describe as ‘wet’, and Ginny, whom he’d actually enjoyed kissing rather a lot. Both kisses paled into insignificance now, however; Harry gave a small moan of delight and deepened the kiss. He was tingling, actually tingling- from scalp to toes; his skin was fire and ice. Each touch from Draco’s fingers on him felt like an electric shock. He realised he’d forgotten to breathe and broke the kiss, gasping for air.

“Wow,” he whispered, once his lungs had had their fill. Draco chuckled.

“Yes. Wow,” he echoed, and then his lips were on Harry once more, kissing his mouth, his jawline and his neck. Draco nibbled Harry’s earlobe, and Harry suddenly realised that this was rapidly heading into far more than a shared snog in the dark in the early hours of Boxing Day morning. He took in an involuntary gasp of breath as Draco’s lips sucked lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark, at the pulse point on Harry’s neck.

“I, this is, Draco,” Harry babbled. He felt Draco’s answering smile against his neck and the low rumble of a chuckle in his chest, and then Draco’s lips were on his once more, his tongue in Harry’s mouth. Both were sighing, and moaning softly into each other’s mouths. Then the hand that was pressed into the gap between Harry’s shoulder blades traced a pattern down Harry’s left side, causing Harry to squirm and shiver slightly from the ticklish sensation. It settled for a second on Harry’s bump, before tracing lower, resting at the waistband to Harry’s pyjama bottoms.

Draco broke the kiss and looked into Harry’s eyes, clearly searching for the permission to continue that Harry was so ready to give. He nodded slightly, and Draco’s hand slipped inside Harry’s pyjamas.

Nothing had ever felt so intense, Harry decided, as he began to kiss Draco with a force and urgency he’d never experienced in his life before. The rest of the world didn’t exist. He pressed his mouth furiously against Draco’s as a burning heat began to spread through him. He had a fleeting mental image of waves crashing onto a beach, rhythmically and repeatedly, with each crash of the wave an accelerated jolt of desire, building to a wonderful, earth-shattering crescendo. He let out a hoarse cry into Draco’s mouth, trembling, as the pleasure reached its peak, before breaking the kiss and allowing his forehead to collapse onto Draco’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

Harry had no words, or even competent thoughts, for how he felt at that moment. All he knew was he felt absolutely euphoric. The part of his brain that was still somewhat lucid decided he should reciprocate, and Draco certainly seemed to agree, given the hardness inside Draco’s own pyjamas pressed against his thigh. And suddenly there was nothing Harry wanted to do more in the world.

“I’ve never, um, you know,” Harry said, still sounding breathless, his hand slinking south.

“I know,” Draco replied. “But you’ll be- ngh!” He abruptly shut up and buried his face in Harry’s neck, as Harry’s hands slipped inside the silk.

Harry concentrated making Draco come apart. The usually cool and composed Draco Malfoy gasped and shuddered, and shivered, and begged Harry not to stop. Harry kissed every inch of skin he could reach, wondering if it was possible to become addicted to a person, because he didn’t think he could ever get enough. He bent his head and kissed Draco’s smooth naked chest just as Draco sucked in a huge breath, held it, arched his back, and came, releasing the breath he was holding in a rush that sounded very much like, Harry.

Harry simply stared into Draco’s eyes, at his skin which was looking almost ethereal, bathed in wand light. His hair was tousled, he was breathing heavily, and he had beads of sweat hanging from him. Harry thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. He leant over, fully intending to have one more snog, but felt a big kick from the baby instead. Draco must have felt it too, for he chuckled.

“He’s feeling left out,” he said, placing a hand on Harry’s tummy.

“She,” insisted Harry, with a grin.

“We’ll see,” Draco replied sleepily.

The pair fell sound asleep curled tightly together, Draco’s right hand cradling Harry’s bump, the left buried in Harry messy locks, and the only dreams Harry had for the rest of the night involved silver eyes, panting breath, and full lips gasping his name in ecstasy.
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Expecting the Unexpected