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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Eight: The Burrow

Harry awoke later than usual the following morning, and was extremely warm and comfortable. It took him a second to remember what had happened the previous night. Then it all came rushing back to him in glorious Technicolor. He’d kissed Draco. More than kissed him, in fact. And it had been absolutely spectacular. For the first time in his life he was waking up in someone’s arms, and Harry thought it all felt utterly brilliant. He smiled against Draco’s chest, which he’d evidently curled close against during the night, listening the rhythmic thudding of Draco’s heart, and feeling his chest rising and falling with deep, even breathing. Then Harry felt a moment of irrational, unfounded panic, as people often do when suddenly presented with something they desperately wanted. What if Draco regretted the previous night? What if he thought they were better just as friends?

He felt Draco stir next to him, and he opened one sleepy grey eye. He gave Harry a massive smile when he saw Harry staring at him.

“Morning,” he said. Then he stroked a finger down Harry’s cheek, tilted Harry’s chin up, leant down, and kissed him soundly. Harry allowed himself to become lost in the kiss for a few wonderful minutes, relishing in the relief that Draco did indeed still want him, and the fabulous sensation Draco’s tongue was drawing from him, before unwillingly pulling away.

“I need to get up,” he said. Draco sniggered and ran a firm hand down Harry’s body before allowing it to come to rest on the top of Harry’s thigh.

“You are up,” he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. Harry felt himself flush.

“No… I mean… Teddy,” he said, slightly flustered.

“He’s not just your responsibility, you know,” Draco said. “You’ve got up with him every morning for nearly a week.”

“Yeah, and Andromeda does it every other morning when I’m not here,” Harry countered. He leant over and kissed Draco once more. “I’d love to stay here in bed with you all day, but I want to help her out, too. Plus I’m due at The Burrow in an an hour or so. Besides, you or your mum could get up with Teddy as well you know, one of the mornings, if you’re so concerned about me doing it every time. I’m the pregnant one here, after all.”

He (very) reluctantly hauled himself out of bed, and, ignoring Draco’s protests, grabbed his clothes and headed for the bathroom, where he took a quick shower before dressing. He realised as he was brushing his teeth that he hadn’t stopped smiling once yet that morning- the exception being earlier when Draco had his tongue in his mouth.

He headed downstairs and found both Andromeda and Narcissa up, supervising Teddy, who was attacking a bowl of porridge with a spoon, as if it was a drumstick banging against a tom-tom. They both smiled at him as he entered.

“Sorry, Andromeda,” Harry said, once he’d greeted them all. “I overslept this morning. I didn’t hear Teddy wake up.”

“That’s fine, Harry,” Andromeda said. “I should imagine you needed a lie-in after the night you had.”

Harry’s hand stilled on the roll he was reaching for. “The night I had?”

“We both heard you,” Narcissa said. “You were quite vocal.”

Harry felt his cheeks flame. Fucking fuckity fuck. “I… sorry… I… oh,” he mumbled, wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole and wondering what on earth Draco was going to say.

“That’s OK, Harry,” Andromeda said kindly, “no need to be embarrassed. I get nightmares sometimes too. I was going to come in and see if you were OK, but you quietened back down so I assumed it was fine.”

“Oh! Um, yeah, it was,” Harry said, relief that Draco’s mother and aunt hadn’t overheard anything he’d rather die before letting them hear flooding through him, “er, fine, I mean. It was just a bad dream. Sorry I woke you both though.” He took a roll, breaking a piece of the crusty bread off and popping it in his mouth, more to make himself shut up than because he actually wanted it. Just then Draco entered the room, dressed in crisp charcoal grey robes and looking stunning. Harry couldn’t pull his eyes away.

“Good morning, Mother, Aunt Andromeda,” Draco said as he sat down. Teddy handed him the spoon from his bowl, which was covered in Ready Brek. Draco grimaced, reached out for it, and placed it as quickly as he could onto the highchair, wiping his fingers on a nearby napkin, with a fixed smile aimed at Teddy, who rewarded Draco by turning his eyes the exact same colour as Draco’s. Harry suddenly realised he was staring, and hastily averted his own eyes, concentrating on buttering his roll and pouring himself a cup of tea from the teapot.

“What time are you off to visit the Weasleys?” Andromeda asked.

“I said I’d Floo over around ten,” Harry replied. “I’m not going to bother eating a lot this morning. It’ll only come up again the other end.” He really was dreading the journey.

They finished up with breakfast and Kreacher removed the plates and bowls from the table. Harry spent a few minutes playing with his godson before, very unenthusiastically, declaring it was time for him to leave. He grabbed a bag containing presents for Hermione and the Weasleys from the side, took a handful of Floo powder from the marble box on the mantelpiece, and threw it into the flames, which instantly turned emerald.

“Bye then,” Harry said to Draco, who was the only one in the room. Draco cocked a crooked smile at him and grabbed his hand. He drew Harry back out of the flames and kissed him.

“So you don’t forget me,” he said with a smirk, probably in relation to the stupefied and glassy-eyed expression Harry knew was on his face. Harry grinned.

“I’m only going for a few hours, prat.” But he leant over and kissed Draco back once more, touched by Draco’s obvious sincerity and reluctance to let him go. “I… really… have… to… leave,” he murmured as he peppered kisses along Draco’s jawline. “I’ll see you later.”

Before he could change his mind and decide to stay after all (which part of him- the part below his belly button, if Harry was truthful- really wanted him to do), he called out, “The Burrow!” and disappeared.

He began to feel nauseous as soon as Draco’s face vanished, and he screwed his eyes tightly shut. He finally landed in the fireplace in The Burrow’s kitchen where, as arranged, Ron was waiting with a bowl; Harry had a second to dizzily realise it was there before he was desperately grabbing it and retching violently into it. Thankfully, Ron must have told the others about the Floo sickness (or Mrs Weasley remembered it well from her own pregnancies), as he and Hermione were the only ones in the kitchen to welcome him, which gave Harry a lot more dignity than he was expecting to arrive with at least- he’d imagined being sick in front of the entire Weasley clan.

“Jesus fucking bollocking arsing sodding Christ,” he groaned, resting his hands on his knees and panting for breath, wishing the room would stop spinning so he could regain some degree of equilibrium. Hermione quickly whipped the bowl away from under his chin and Vanished its contents. Despite having hardly eaten any breakfast that morning, he’d still made an impressive mess of the bowl. “You have no idea how utterly hideous that was. I’m sorry you had to watch that. And, um, for my language. Sorry, Hermione.”

“Shall I make you a Portkey with which to return to Andromeda’s?” Hermione offered soothingly, clearly thinking that Harry was allowed one attack of the potty mouth given what he’d just gone through, and began rubbing his back gently before leading him over to one of the kitchen chairs, which Harry gratefully sank into, resting his face on the table. Harry shook his head.

“Thanks, Hermione, but no. The Healer has recommended I only use those for emergencies or when I can’t Floo or use Muggle transport,” he explained. “They’re safe for use in pregnancy but the resulting Portkey-sickness is apparently fifty times worse than with Floo travel, and pregnant women often end up in St Mungo’s with it. It’s the reason we didn’t take one from Hogwarts, remember?” He reached for the goblet of water Ron has just ran from the tap for him and took a huge swig, before pulling out his wand and casting a Cleaning Charm on his shirt where a stray fleck of vomit had landed, and performing handy little charm which freshened his breath.

“Harry! Thought I heard your discreet arrival,” said George, appearing at the doorway. Harry noticed he was smiling- a genuine smile that reached his eyes, which were sparkling in amusement. It was the first he’d seen on his face since the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. “At first Mum and Dad weren’t sure it was you, but then you started swearing like a sailor, so they figured that it was you after all.”

Harry grinned apologetically and stood up from the kitchen table, exposing his tummy. George’s mouth fell open.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” he said. “Your stomach… well, I never thought I’d see you up the duff.” Harry opened his mouth to reply, but just then all the other Weasleys poured into the room. It wasn’t lost on him that every single pair of eyes, Ginny excepted (who was, of course, used to the bump), was on his stomach rather than his face. Molly recovered first.

“Harry, dear,” she said, smile as wide as her arms. She took Harry into an embrace. “You look so well.”

Harry was beginning to wonder if ‘well’ was a euphemism for ‘fat’ that people used when speaking to pregnant people, in some attempt at not hurting their feelings. He’d heard it a lot from family and friends recently, and given he’d just chucked up for England and still felt sick, he was quite certain he looked anything but ‘well’.

“At least you’re not telling me I’m too thin, this time,” he said, his eyebrows raised pointedly, and was gratified to see a guilty flush on her cheeks, which told him he had been right. Bill roared with laughter, whilst Fleur, who Harry remembered was also pregnant, shot him a smile of comradeship and elbowed her husband in the ribs.

“’Arry! You ‘ave a beautiful bump,” she said. “I ‘ope my stomach looks like yours when I am at ze same stage as you.”

He greeted and hugged or shook hands with all the Weasleys. Somewhere in the all the jumbled noise, Mrs Weasley had produced a bacon sandwich and a huge steaming mug of tea for Harry, and steered him back to the table to eat. He felt extremely self-conscious with everyone asking him questions about the baby and pregnancy, so he distracted everyone by taking the scan picture out of his wallet and passing it around for everyone to coo over whilst he ate his breakfast.

“So, how’s Andromeda and Teddy?” Hermione asked, once the fuss calmed down slightly and Harry managed to tuck in to his sandwich. He nodded his head and put a thumb up, mouth full of sandwich, to show they were fine. “And Malfoy?”

He blushed. He knew he did. He could feel the heat pooling in his cheeks. With effort he swallowed the bread that was in his mouth.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Harry said, in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice, but knew he’d failed as soon as he heard Ginny. His ex-girlfriend let out a small snort of laughter that she managed to disguise as a sneeze, which, thankfully, no one seemed to notice. Harry quickly averted her eyes and went back to his sandwich.

Once he’d finished, they went into the living room and exchanged gifts. Harry received a jar of stretchmark cream and a tube of Preparation H from George; clearly his idea of a joke. Molly admonished him for his thoughtlessness, but Harry didn’t mind; George, at least, was treating him like the old Harry (and it was certainly a ‘George’ thing to do), and Harry greatly appreciated it. His heart melted, however, when he saw that Molly had knitted a tiny newborn-sized Weasley jumper that exactly matched Harry’s; he gave her a massive hug.

Arthur Weasley was ecstatic with Harry’s gift- a copy of How Aeroplanes Fly which he’d seen whilst shopping for Narcissa’s book, and instantly began to read. Hermione was thrilled with her present from Harry, too- an antique copy of Jane Eyre (a story Hermione had spoken about recently, admiring it for its forward thinking on feminism in literature). He had bought gift vouchers (via mail order- no way was he going into Diagon Alley at the moment) for Quality Quidditch Supplies each for Ron and Ginny. Hermione had bought him a book called Bewitching Babies: A Guide to Bringing Up Magical Children for the Muggle-raised Parent, Ginny had bought him a set of aromatherapy oils designed for use in pregnancy (and Harry secretly thought Draco would use far more than him) whilst Ron had been the only one not to give him a gift related to the baby and had bought him a massive hamper from Honeydukes.

Eventually the room began to empty: Charlie and his boyfriend, Bill, Ron, Ginny and George all engaged in an impromptu game of Quidditch in the orchard (which Harry desperately wanted to take part in, too), Mrs Weasley was busy cooking in the kitchen, Arthur was still engrossed in his book at the kitchen table, Fleur was feeling unwell and had gone to lie down, and Percy left to spend the day at his girlfriend’s house. Only he and Hermione remained in the living room.

“So, Harry,” she began. “You and Draco are together, then.” It clearly wasn’t a question, and Harry didn’t take it as one. He stared at her. She laughed and took his hand in hers. “It was obviously just going to be a matter of time before you two got together. You never have been good at subtly, have you?”

“What gave me away?” Harry said. He’d not planned to have this discussion with his friends today, on Boxing Day, when it was likely to upset his friends, but he hadn’t planned to kiss Draco the previous night either, and that had worked out well enough. Besides, had no intention of lying, and it was obvious Hermione already knew. Denying would have been stupid.

“Well, there’re the looks you’ve each been giving the other for weeks,” Hermione said. “And when he was attacked you were beside yourself with worry and only left his bedside when you were ordered to, even when it was clear he was going to be fine. It was obvious you liked him, Harry. But the way you blushed earlier when I asked you how he was- Harry, I don’t want to pry, and tell me to mind my own business if you want to, but when did something happen between the two of you?”

“Mind your own business,” Harry said, but he was smiling. “Merlin, Hermione, you’re far too smart for your own good sometimes. I should call you Miss Marple.” He picked at a loose thread that was hanging from the hem of his T-shirt- one of the few items of clothing that still fit him (and only because it used to be one of Dudley’s). “We kissed last night.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “And we- um-” He caught himself just in time and stopped the train of thought materialising into speech. “Actually you don’t need to know that bit.” He saw Hermione bite back a laugh at this. “But, yeah, I think we’re together now.”

“You only think?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

“OK, yeah, we are together. He gave me a ring for Christmas- no, not that type of ring, Merlin!” he added hastily as Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widened. “We’re not engaged or anything ridiculous like that! We only kissed for the first time last night! But it has the baby’s birthstone on it and a space for their name. It was beautiful. I wish I brought it with me now to show you.”

“You only get someone a gift like that if you have feelings for them,” Hermione said. “And frankly, Harry, Draco has been smitten with you for a very long time.”

“And how do you feel about it?” Harry hadn’t forgotten the vile names Draco had called Hermione in the past. That it was his aunt that had tortured her in Draco’s own home.

“He makes you happy,” Hermione replied flatly. “And if anyone deserves some happiness, Harry, it’s you. Besides, I think by now we’ve all learnt to trust your judgement. And I’ve had a few weeks to get used to the idea. It’ll come as more of a shock to Ron; he never notices anything and is still quite convinced you and Ginny will ‘come to your senses’-” she made air quotes with her fingers- “and get back together one day.”

“Oh God, I’ve got to tell Ron, haven’t I?” Harry groaned. Hermione’s grip on Harry’s hand increased.

“I think he’ll surprise you. Have faith in him, Harry. He loves you. And he’s grown up a lot in the last few months.”

Harry ran his hands over his face.

“I’ll talk to him after lunch,” he said, suddenly feeling like a condemned man, and lunch was to be his last meal.

*

Lunch was served soon after Harry’s conversation with Hermione. As always, it was delicious. Molly Weasley had produced a cold buffet spread; Harry helped himself to chicken wings, coleslaw, salad, and a multitude of other delicious things, and sat down to eat.

“I need to talk to you after we’ve eaten,” he said in a low voice to Ron. Ron gave him a slightly confused look, but agreed, returning to his food. Harry caught Ginny’s eye; she smiled warmly at him and gave him a wink.

As soon as lunch was over, and Mrs Weasley had charmed the pots and plates to wash themselves in the sink, Harry disappeared upstairs with Ron, wishing that Ron’s room wasn’t right at the top of the house as the stairs left him breathless. Ron closed the door to his old room, which was still violently orange and covered in Chudley Cannons posters. One of them, Dragomir Gorgovitch, threw the Quaffle to a teammate and turned his head to wink at Ron as he entered, before zooming out of the picture, and then the scene started again. Harry took a deep breath and sat on the bed.

“You alright, Harry?” Ron asked. “You look like someone died.” His eyes widened. “It’s not the baby, is it? I mean, is it OK? There’s not a problem or anything?”

“Yeah, Ron, she’s fine,” Harry said. “Actually, she’s moving around at the moment. Wanna feel?”

“No, I’m good thanks, mate,” Ron said, nose slightly wrinkled in mild horror at the idea. Harry laughed nervously. “So if there’s nothing wrong, why do you look like shit?”

“’Cause I need to tell you something, and I’m worried you’re going to hate me,” Harry replied honestly. Ron’s amused smile slipped off his face instantly.

“Ginny’s not pregnant too, is she?” he said, and glared accusingly at Harry. Harry couldn’t help himself. He began to laugh.

“I don’t think so, no, but if she is, blame Neville, not me. Bloody hell, Ron.” He sobered quickly and stared at his fingernails. He took a deep breath. “Ron, Draco and I have started seeing each other. You know, as, um, not just friends. We’re- we’re together. Together together.” He forced himself to stop staring at his fingers, and looked into Ron’s face, expecting to see hatred there. He was surprised.

Ron had turned rather pale, but other than that his face hadn’t changed. Harry thought Ron was probably trying to decide if Harry was pulling his leg or not. Eventually deciding Harry wasn’t joking, he said simply, in an even tone, “You’re gay?”

For some reason this hadn’t been the question Harry had expected, at least not first. He’d expected something melodramatic, along the lines of how could he betray the Weasleys, or shack up with a stinking Slytherin. He’d certainly been anticipating ranting or shouting. It threw him slightly.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly. “All I know is I’m definitely not straight. I don’t know if I only like blokes, or I like both blokes and girls. I mean, I’ve not fancied that many people. There was Cho and your sister, and no other girls, but no other blokes besides Draco either. I’ve decided it doesn’t really matter. All I know is I really, really like Draco and I’m very attracted to him, and he likes me too, so we’re giving it a go.” He forced himself to hold Ron’s eye contact. There was a small trace of hurt there. Harry bit his lip- the same lip that Draco was biting just a few short hours previously.

“Hermione already knows, doesn’t she?” Ron said eventually. “That’s why she’s not up here too, isn’t it. Didn’t you trust me, Harry? You could’ve told me you liked him,” “I wouldn’t have flown off the handle, y’know.” He wiped his hand across his mouth and sighed deeply. “Look, I’ve already accepted that the git’s going to be around. If I can get used to my best mate getting pregnant by him then I can accept you having a- relationship- with him. And if I didn’t smash his stupid pointy face in for knocking you up in the first place, then I’m not going to now he’s finally doing some good and actually making you happy, alright?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Harry replied. “Hermione and Ginny guessed I liked him, but me and Draco only got together last night, and Hermione worked it out and asked me about it when you were playing Quidditch earlier, and now I’m telling you.” He realised he was rambling. “Sorry. Look, Ron. I really don’t want to be in a position where I have to choose between you, sometime down the line. You’re both far too important to me.”

“I don’t care you like men,” Ron said. “Although I’m surprised as I’d never have guessed. And, yeah, I wish it was anyone other than the Ferret, but I’m not going to stand in your way, Harry. Besides, you’re having a baby with him. And it’s nice if a kid’s parents care a lot about one another and you can all be a family, you know? Just promise me you won’t snog him in front of me, OK.”

Relief flooded through Harry, as in that moment he knew it was going to be okay. It must have shown on his face because Ron was suddenly pulling him into a fierce hug.

“I learnt my lesson about not trusting you, Harry,” he said. “Last Christmas- I should have been with you and Hermione when you faced You-Know-Who. And I wasn’t, and I was a complete and utter git, and if you’d both been killed I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m not going to stop being your best mate just ‘cause you’re with the Ferret. Follow your heart. We’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Harry said into Ron’s shoulder, thinking Hermione had been right and Ron really had grown up. The war, and dealing with the losses, had forced them all to grow up, he supposed. “And I promise. About the snogging, I mean. We’ll keep it to our room.”

“Crap, I’d forgotten you were moving out of Gryffindor Tower,” Ron said, but it was said good-naturedly. “Y’know, you get to share a bed with him every night now. And Hermione and me are stuck in different dorms. That’s hardly fair, mate.”

Harry laughed then, and it was an open, carefree laugh. He felt like a weight had been removed from him. Hermione and Ron knew about him and Draco, and they were both still his friends. He felt a very weird sensation in his stomach. He had family, friends, Draco, and a baby on the way. Maybe, Harry thought, this is how it felt to be truly happy.

*

“So, have you shagged him yet?” Ginny asked later that afternoon. Harry spat out a mouthful of his spiced warm apple juice and made a mental note to stop eating and drinking around her. It never ended well.

“Gin,” he warned, cleaning up the spilt juice with his wand. Ginny just grinned. Harry sighed. Ginny Weasley had clearly decided to appoint herself as his fag hag. “Fine. I had a nightmare last night, he crawled into bed with me to comfort me, we ended up kissing, and-” He stopped talking.

“And?” Ginny probed, looking deliriously happy. Harry sighed, re-cast the Warming Charm around them in The Burrow’s garden, made sure no one was watching them from The Burrow’s kitchen window, and made an obscene hand gesture with a loosely-closed fist at Ginny. Her eyes widened and she let out a whoop of delight. “Was it good?”

“What do you think?” Harry said, but he, too, was smiling now. “Yeah. It was incredible, actually. Doing it to him was almost better than having it done to me.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely at least bi,” Ginny said with a small giggle. “God, if I had to touch another girl’s bits I think I’d throw up.” Harry snorted.

“Actual sex, though- Merlin, Gin, I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I mean, yeah, of course I want to, but how does it even work? Between blokes, I mean? Doesn’t it like, really hurt or something? I mean, it can’t, not all the time, otherwise men wouldn’t do it, but I don’t know how to make it not hurt.” He knew that Draco had done it at least once before- Harry always tried very hard to forget that Draco had already sort of had sex with him once already, as it was just still too weird- but he didn’t want to be the blushing fumbling virgin all the time. He wanted to at least know what he was supposed to be doing, rather than their first time becoming something of a tutorial that he needed to be guided through.

“Ask Charlie, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to give you step- by- step instructions,” Ginny said, and was rewarded with a playful elbow to her side.

“I know you’re just joking, but I’d rather not tell your family just yet,” Harry said. “This is all so new to me. Just let me get used to the idea for a while before telling anyone else. Please.”

Just then Harry felt a small kick.

“Baby’s woken up,” he said. “She must like the juice.” He took Ginny’s hand and placed it on the bump, and she gasped softly when she felt a kick on her hand.

“You’re going to look like a right tit if it is a boy, you know,” she said, but her eyes were sparkling. Her hand stroked Harry’s bump with tenderness. “Wow, it’s incredible. I can’t believe there’s actually a baby inside you.”

She continued to stroke the bump and snuggled in to Harry, who kissed the top of her head. Neither of them noticed the flash of a camera going off in the distance.

*

The weak December sun had long since set, and darkness had fallen over The Burrow, when it was time for Harry to return home. He said his goodbyes to everyone, promising Molly to send regular updates about the pregnancy, and arranging to meet Ron, Hermione and Ginny at King’s Cross on the fourth of January to return to Hogwarts. Then, arms filled with pie, Christmas cake and leftover buffet food, he tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames, took a deep breath, stepped into them, and called out Andromeda’s address.

He practically fell out of the Floo the other end, feeling extremely giddy and sick, swearing extremely loudly, and vowing not to Floo again until the baby was born. Draco had clearly spotted him arrive for he was by his side in an instant, casting Cooling Charms and snatching up a glass of cold water for him, just as Ron had done that morning. Harry gripped the side of the chair he’d been led to tightly and took a series of deep breaths to calm himself, wondering if he was going to keep down the food he’d eaten earlier.

“Well, that was rather inelegant, Potter,” a voice drawled with faint amusement. Sickness or not, Harry’s head snapped up at the voice, and his eyes confirmed what his ears had heard. There, sat on the armchair opposite Harry’s, and sipping from a large glass of mulled mead and looking perfectly relaxed, was Lucius Malfoy.
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Expecting the Unexpected