Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 8
- 9
- 10
“What’s your father doing here, Draco?” Harry snarled, not even looking at Lucius.

“I wasn’t aware your permission was required to visit my family at Christmas, Potter,” Lucius sneered. “I suggest you calm down; you look quite enraged, which surely, given your current situation, isn’t good for your blood pressure.” Harry was sure he hadn’t imagined the slight sneer Lucius gave on the word ‘blood’.

The situation was completely strange. Here was Lucius Malfoy, aristocratic pure-blood, sitting in Andromeda’s floral squashy armchair in this modest, three-bedroom semi-detached house, in a quaint, conservative Muggle town in Hampshire, sipping mead and looking thoroughly comfortable.

“He Apparated here about an hour ago,” Draco said. “He turned up unannounced. And completely and utterly inebriated, might I add.” He shot a disapproving glare at his father.

It was obvious now Harry looked at Lucius that the man had indeed been drinking heavily; his eyes were bloodshot, and they scrutinised Harry with an unfocussed, unsteady gaze. Harry even thought he caught a whiff of alcohol emanating from the elder Malfoy, and felt his anger spike.

“So you thought you’d give him a glass of mead and make him welcome. How cosy,” Harry said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“I came to talk to Draco, not that it’s any of your business,” Lucius said. He took another sip of his mead. “I’ve tried, unsuccessfully I might add, to make him see sense. However he is still firmly of the opinion that you and your half-blood brat are preferable to his birth-right as my sole heir.”

“So what are you still doing here, if Draco has told you he’s not interested?” said Harry, refusing to rise to Lucius’ clear attempt at goading him. He was tired, he felt sick from the Floo travel, and all he wanted was a bath then Draco’s arms wrapped around him whilst he slept. He didn’t want to have to deal with Lucius sodding Malfoy and whatever shit came with the man.

“Mother took pity on him,” Draco replied, and Harry could hear the annoyance in his voice. This cheered him greatly. “Apparition when drunk is highly dangerous- the fucking idiot-” he gave his father a filthy look- “so we don’t want to send him back that way in case he Splinches himself, not to mention the trouble Mother and I would be in if the Ministry ever found out we’d let him Apparate illegally without a licence. And Floo travel when drunk is as bad as when pregnant, apparently. And my father looks so pathetic, apparently, that she asked Andromeda if he could sleep on the sofa for the night, to sober up.”

“Yeah, and giving him more alcohol is really helping with that,” Harry snapped (thinking that a bout of Floo sickness or Splinching could actually do Lucius some good), and Draco had the grace to look abashed. “Where are your mother and Andromeda, anyway?”

“They’re bathing Teddy,” Draco said. “Apparently they wanted to give Father and I time to talk. All he’s done, however, is drink more and call me a disappointment.”

Harry was extremely tempted to Floo back to The Burrow and stay there until Lucius had well and truly fucked off, but the thought of having to make the journey for the third time in less than twelve hours was enough to knock the idea on its head. Besides, he didn’t really want to leave Draco to deal with his drunken and verbally abusive father alone.

“Couldn’t he go back to the Manor via Side-Along?”

“No,” Draco replied. “Mother and I are not allowed to Apparate, and Aunt Andromeda can’t. You can’t take him because of the baby. He has to stay here.”

“Fine,” Harry said, defeated. He turned to Lucius. “But you leave tomorrow morning.” It was still relatively early, but Harry didn’t care. “I’m going to bed.” He turned and stormed out of the room.

It was a couple of hours later that Harry was awoken to the sound of Draco coming up to bed. He relaxed when he felt the other man slide in between the sheets next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, and wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, coming to rest on Harry’s bump.

“I know,” Harry replied drowsily, and joined his fingers with Draco’s. He felt Draco’s lips caress his jaw and neck for a few sleepy minutes before he drifted back off.

*

He woke up a few hours later needing the loo. He grabbed his glasses, got up carefully without disturbing Draco, and padded across to the bathroom. He was just returning to the bedroom when the flicker of wand light from downstairs drew his attention. He headed down the stairs and found Lucius, perfectly sober and compos mentis, sat on the sofa, reading.

“Potter. This is a pleasant surprise. Just the person I wished to talk with,” Lucius said, putting down his book as Harry approached. There was something in Lucius’ tone of voice that prickled uneasily at Harry’s skin, making him feel extremely uncomfortable. It sounded almost like… triumph. And in that instant, Harry knew this whole thing- Lucius arriving here, knowing that he wouldn’t be returned to the Manor immediately- it wasn’t about reconciling with Draco at all. Lucius wanted to talk with him. He should have guessed, Harry thought. He’d probably even managed to ensure Harry had woken, although Harry wasn’t entirely sure how that could have been achieved. But it wasn’t as if Lucius wasn’t learned in the Dark Arts.

“How did you fake the drunkenness?” Harry asked, realisation thundering through him. Lucius chuckled lightly. The laugh almost made him sound human, and Harry loathed him for it.

“Glamours and some good acting,” Lucius replied with an arrogant smile. The man almost looked delighted that Harry had worked it out. “I may not be adverse to a little illegal Apparition, but I’m not foolish enough to risk Splinching myself.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Draco, naturally,” Lucius said. “My son seems rather obsessed with you.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

“If you cared about him as he claims you do,” Lucius said, “you would step aside and allow him once more to become my heir, rather than keeping him from his birth-right due to this farce of a friendship between the two you.”

“I’m not the one keeping him from anything, Harry said hotly. “You did that. Don’t you dare try and make it that I’m the Bad Guy in this little drama.”

“I’m merely looking out for the welfare of my son,” Lucius continued. “You see, he is under the impression the two of you will be able to form some type of- romantic relationship-” Lucius’ lips curled in obvious disgust- “and you leading him on is extremely unkind.” Harry bit back the incredulous laugh that threatened to burst out at the notion of being taught kindness from Lucius of all people, but he bit it back. Lucius, oblivious to this, continued. “I thought holding the threat of the Malfoy millions over his head would be enough to make him see sense, but obviously not.” He drew his wand then and Harry held his breath, berating himself for his stupidity in not going to fetch his own before heading downstairs. But Lucius merely erected an Imperturbable Charm on the door.

“Leave my son alone,” Lucius said. His voice was icy, and its tone caused Harry’s skin to erupt in goose pimples. However he stared Lucius straight in the eye, refusing to back down. “Leave Draco alone, and let him return to me. To his heritage. Let him find a wife, a pure-blood female, and have a proper family. Your presence- yours and your half-blood brat’s- is surplus to requirement.”

Harry stared at Lucius, hatred boiling in the pit of his stomach. He felt a small kick from the baby, and absently placed a hand on his abdomen protectively, a gesture not missed by Lucius, who sneered at him. Bloody fucking bastard.

“Go back to your little Weasley girlfriend,” Lucius continued. “And play happy families with a bunch of blood-traitors and Mudblood-lovers.”

“Ginny isn’t my girlfriend,” Harry said defiantly. He took a deep breath. He was going to enjoy staring at Lucius’ face as his next few words registered. “She hasn’t been for well over a year. And there is nothing you can say that will make me abandon Draco. Absolutely nothing. I care more about him than you realised, you see. I care about him in the same way he cares about me. And you’re wrong. We will be a proper family.”

The little colour that was in Lucius’ pallid face drained, leaving the man deathly white. Whether this was with anger or shock, Harry didn’t know. He felt a momentary surge of sadistic pleasure as he saw realisation flicker across Lucius’ features.

“Well, this complicates matters, certainly,” said Lucius finally. He twisted his wand between his fingers, clearly toying with the idea of hexing Harry. “I was under the impression you spent yesterday with Ginevra Weasley, and the two of you were incredibly close by the looks of things.”

Every drop of Harry’s victory drained from him in that instant. He didn’t say anything. He simply stared at Lucius, willing his face not to change.

“I was hoping that the evidence of yours and Miss Weasley’s reconciliation would be enough to dissuade Draco of his ludicrous ideas surrounding the two of you,” Lucius continued. “But apparently it will instead be the catalyst that stops whatever disgusting affair the two of you have begun in its tracks.”

“What ‘evidence’?” Harry said, in genuine confusion. His palms were sweaty and he was aware his pulse was beating a little faster. How he wished he’d just stayed in bed, curled tightly into Draco’s embrace, instead of having to investigate. He was more than a little spooked, too. “And how did you know I visited the Weasleys yesterday?”

“You’ll see,” Lucius said, and this time he really did smile. It was extremely unpleasant and made the hair on Harry’s neck stand on end. “And as to how I knew where you were? Magic, Potter. When Draco realises you’ve been sleeping with the Weasley girl behind his back-”

“I have not,” snarled Harry, but Lucius continued as if Harry hadn’t interrupted.

“When Draco realises what you have done to him, he’ll come crawling back to me, and I shall forgive him. I will not let you inflict your bastard child on my son. Now, you and I have nothing else to say to one another. I bid you goodnight.”

“I should have left you to rot in Azkaban for the rest of your life,” Harry spat, surprised by the abrupt dismissal, then turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

Draco murmured some incoherent babble as Harry slid back into bed, and pulled him close to him. Harry absently threated his fingers through Draco’s hair, trembling with rage. He had no idea what Lucius Malfoy had done, but Harry knew that whatever it was wasn’t good. It was a long time until he managed to fall asleep again.

*

The remainder of the Christmas holidays passed quickly and peacefully. Harry hadn’t mentioned his conversation with Lucius to Draco, and had heard nothing from his friends- or anyone else- that would suggest there was a problem. He had by no means forgotten Lucius’ words, but he put the conversation to the back of his mind and concentrated on enjoying the remaining week or so with his new boyfriend.

Three days after Boxing Day, Andromeda and Narcissa took Teddy to the lake to feed the ducks and, after some coaxing from Draco, he and Harry had showered together, despite it being a rather tight fit for them both in the cubicle. It was the first time they’d seen each other naked (well, Draco had seen Pansy Polyjuiced as Harry, but that didn’t count) and Harry had been self-conscious about his forever-swelling stomach, until Draco had fallen to his knees and kissed it, which had led to the kissing of other, more delightful areas, until Harry was yelling himself hoarse and shuddering, and he was extremely glad that they had the house to themselves.

The day before New Year’s Eve, Harry and Draco told Narcissa and Andromeda about their relationship. Both women giggled and said they already knew. Harry refused to probe further to find out exactly how they knew, and hoped they’d got the message through his and Draco’s body language, rather than overhearing anything they shouldn’t have. Still, Harry erected Imperturbable Charms of his own before bed every night after that- just in case.

He and Draco saw the New Year in together whilst in the throes of pleasure. Harry could hear the clock in the town centre striking midnight just as Draco’s back arched and Harry’s mouth was flooded with his release. It wasn’t a bad way to begin a new year and, Draco reminded him afterwards, it’s said that what you’re doing at midnight on New Year is what you spend the next year doing. Harry noticed Draco had a lascivious grin on his face when he said this.

All in all, Harry was going to be very sad to have to say goodbye to Andromeda’s. The Lucius Incident and Floo travel aside, Harry had had a wonderful couple of weeks. He was going to miss Andromeda and, even more, Teddy, but what he was going to miss the most was the languid days of lying in bed, getting a blowjob (now he’d started being intimate with someone he found he couldn’t get enough), or Draco simply taking the time to massage Ginny’s Christmas oils into his shoulders. The idea of having to return to Potions, and essays, and NEWT exams was highly unappealing.

The night before they returned to Hogwarts, Kreacher cooked a special meal and Harry and Draco said goodbye to Narcissa, who was returning to the Manor that night. Andromeda offered to drive Harry and Draco back to London the following morning, rather than them having to catch the train. Both Harry and Draco were incredibly grateful, and Draco clearly preferred the journey- until Andromeda pulled onto the A3 and began to drive at seventy miles an hour. However it was once they merged onto the hustle and bustle of the morning rush hour on the M25 that Draco completely lost it. The four lanes of traffic, all weaving precariously in and out of gaps far too small for them, the beeping of horns and the slamming of breaks- both from other cars and Andromeda’s- had caused Draco to practically hyperventilate, and Harry had to send a Cheering Charm at him. He was more relaxed by the time they reached the junction for Heathrow; the extremely low-flying aircraft effectively shut him up as he stared up in awe at them. For once he had nothing negative to say about something Muggle, it seemed.

They arrived in central London at ten- thirty. The city was noisy, dirty and smelly in comparison to the relative peace of Petersfield. Harry was very grateful for his thick winter coat, as his bump had really grown in the last fortnight. He would be unable to venture into the Muggle world again, he reckoned, until the baby was born. As it was he simply looked like he’d eaten way too many slices of Christmas cake, but very soon he would be unmistakably pregnant-male or not. He and Draco said their goodbyes and thanks to Andromeda at King’s Cross Station, Harry hugged his godson tightly whilst the tot grabbed handfuls of his hair and pulled painfully, then they stepped through the magical barrier and emerged onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

The scarlet Hogwarts Express was familiar and comforting, even if a pang in Harry’s chest reminded him that this was to be the last time he ever took the train to Hogwarts. He noticed that the Hogwarts students and their parents already assembled on the platform were openly staring at him. This was nothing new, however; it had always been this way, and that was before he had walked onto the platform with a pregnancy bump, which everyone was clearly trying to grab a look at.

“Honestly, Harry, they’re treating you like a monkey in a zoo,” Hermione’s voice called out and Harry turned, grinning, to fine his friend glaring at people, who were flushing with embarrassment and turning away quickly. She gave him a quick hug. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks,” he replied, as Hermione and Draco greeted each other cordially. He noticed Hermione was steering them towards Ron, who was alone, loading his and Hermione’s luggage onto the train. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Where’s Ginny?” he said, and to his amazement Hermione flushed a bright scarlet which matched the Express so perfectly it was almost camouflage.

“Um, she spent the last few days with Neville at his gran’s,” Hermione said, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. “They’re going to Apparate to school later.” She was worrying her lower lip between her teeth, a sure sign with Hermione that something wasn’t quite right, and Harry felt the uncomfortable prickling sensation on the back of his neck again.

“Hermione…”

“Not here, Harry,” she sighed. By now they’d reached Ron, who gave both him and, worryingly, Draco such a cheerful and obviously false greeting that Harry knew with certainty something was up- this was confirmed when Draco shot him an astounded look. He wondered if everyone was staring at him for a reason besides the baby, after all. He was also pretty sure that whatever this was had something to do with Lucius Malfoy’s cryptic talk about ‘evidence’ back just after Boxing Day.

He, Hermione, Ron and Draco boarded the Express and found a compartment to themselves. As soon as they were all seated, Harry demanded, “Tell me what’s going on.” Ron and Hermione exchanged a look which made Harry feel rather pissed off, and then Hermione reluctantly pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet that was dated a few days previously from her bag. To Harry’s absolute dismay there was a photograph of him and Ginny, cuddled close together, with Harry kissing her head then muttering some unheard words whilst Ginny stroked his stomach and laughing- it had clearly been taken whilst he was at The Burrow over Christmas. The headline read, “Harry Potter: Reunited with his Lost Love at Last.” Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry began to read:

It appears that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and defeater of You-Know-Who, has finally found love. In a tender moment, seen here in an image taken on Boxing Day, it is clear that Potter and his young sweetheart- heroine of the Battle of Hogwarts, Ginevra Weasley- have reconciled. Despite Potter’s obvious mysterious pregnancy, the two appeared relaxed and very much in love, as they spent time together in the Weasley family garden. The couple were even observed to share a kiss, and appeared inseparable.

Miss Weasley (17), the exceptionally beautiful daughter of Order of the Phoenix member and slayer of Bellatrix Lestrange, Molly Weasley (49), seems as excited as Potter himself must be about their imminent bundle of joy. She was seen to lovingly caress Potter’s now-obvious bump. Adoration was clear in their eyes as they gazed at each other.

“Harry’s crazy about her,” said one source close to the happy couple. “It won’t be long until we’re hearing wedding plans from them.”

I’m sure everyone both here at the Prophet and our loyal readership wishes Mr Potter all the luck in the world as he embarks on this exciting new chapter of his life.

*

Harry looked up, dumbfounded. Anger began to surge through him and he began to tear the article to shreds.

“Those lying-” rip “fucking-” rip “bastards!” he yelled. He realised he was shaking with rage, and the knuckles holding what remained of the newspaper were chalk white. “I’ll get them for this. And Lucius.”

Draco, who had remained silent eve since Hermione had produced the newspaper, fixed his gaze on Harry, and Harry didn’t like the glint in his eyes one bit. “What’s my father got to do with this?”

Harry ended up telling him, Ron and Hermione the full story, regarding his talk with the elder Malfoy.

“So you see, Draco, I’m certain your father knew I was there and tipped off the paper,” Harry finished. “If he’s got a Tracking Charm on me, I’ll kill him.”

Hermione whipped out her wand and muttered something quietly. “There’s nothing on you, Harry,” she said. “If it was Lucius then he must have known you were there another way.”

Harry noticed Draco was hardly listening. He had in his hand a piece of the torn photograph, which unfortunately happened to be the bit where Harry kissed Ginny on the head and she smiled.

“It’s not true, Draco,” Harry said, suddenly filled with a feeling of foreboding. “None of it is true.”

“So you’re telling me this is a doctored photograph then? That you’re not cuddled up with your ex-girlfriend and kissing her?” Draco said. His voice was soft, yet dangerous. Harry noticed Ron give Hermione a look.

“We’re going to go and check on, um, something,” he said lamely, and they disappeared from the compartment, leaving Harry alone with a Draco who looked ready to spit venom.

“I’m waiting,” Draco said, as soon as the compartment door closed.

“No. The photo is genuine,” Harry admitted. “But the reporters have blown it all out of context! I mean, we’re certainly not-”

“So it is indeed a photograph of you and Ginny Weasley, canoodling like lovers,” Draco interrupted, evidently having only heard half of Harry’s answer- the part where Harry had admitted the photo wasn’t a fake. He was still staring at the black and white image, where Harry could see his own lips repeatedly pressing to Ginny’s temple and a warm smile flooding her features. “So when you when you said, ‘none of it is true’ you were, in fact, full of utter shit.”

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. First he was going to murder Lucius Malfoy, and then he was going to hunt down the fucking reporter, who clearly went to the Rita Skeeter School of Ethical Journalism, and hex him into the next week. No wonder Ginny had gone to stay with Neville as soon as the article had been released. Harry wondered fleetingly if Neville had believed a word of it. He hoped that Lucius’ determination to see him and Draco apart hadn’t jeopardised Ginny’s relationship.

“Please, Draco, don’t do this,” Harry said. He felt utterly miserable. And more than a little angry that Draco apparently believed the Prophet over him. The Express had left London by now, and Harry stared out of the window at the Hertfordshire countryside. It began to drizzle; wispy flecks of rain fell against the pane of glass like tears. Ironic, Harry thought.

They fell silent for a very long time, neither speaking nor looking at each other. Harry could hear the rain tapping at the glass. It was a sound that normally comforted him; today, however, it was a source of irritation. He swallowed hard, realising he was mortifyingly close to tears. Was two weeks of happiness all he was going to get? Was Lucius Malfoy really going to fuck it all up for him?

“There’s nothing between Ginny and me,” he said eventually, when he could stand the silence no longer. He noticed his voice breaking the silence caused Draco to jump slightly. “There hasn’t been for ages- nearly two years. Draco, please, please believe me.” Draco fumbled through the wreckage that was formerly the article, clearly looking for something specific. He finally found it and quoted from the scrap.

“’Miss Weasley… seems as excited as Potter himself must be at their imminent bundle of joy’.” He drew his wand, scrunched the paper into a ball, tossed it into the air and caught it with a perfectly- aimed Incendio on its descent, instantly turning it to ashes. He pressed his lips together tightly, in a gesture that Harry now knew meant Draco was extremely upset. “That’s my baby. Not the she-Weasel’s.”

“No one said it was Ginny’s!” Harry said, mentally smacking himself for the words as soon as they left his stupid mouth because, quite evidently a newspaper had said exactly that- and now the whole of wizarding Britain was under the impression that it actually was going to be his and Ginny’s baby. “OK, that was a twatish thing to say. Draco, I know she is yours. And so does anyone who actually matters. Ginny and I- she was the one who helped me realised I liked you as more than a friend in the first place. I’m not going to lie. Yes, I love her- no, don’t you look at me like that! And she loves me. But we’re like family. She’s like my little sister. Please believe me, Draco! When that picture was taken, d’you know what we were talking about?”

Draco turned his head and stared at Harry. His face was expressionless but his eyes glinted with a desperate need. He still didn’t say anything, however, obviously prepared to let Harry do all the talking for the time being.

“We were talking about you. I was telling her about how we’d kissed and stuff, and saying how brilliant it was, and she was really happy for us. She’s not my girlfriend, she will never be my girlfriend, and I don’t fucking want her to be my girlfriend and she doesn’t want to be mine!”

Draco looked momentarily mollified. Harry even thought he saw relief on his face. But it disappeared as quickly as it arrived, to be replaced with one of inexplicable hurt, and the small leap of hope Harry had felt slipped away.

“OK. I accept that you’re telling me the truth- about the Weaselette, I mean. But why didn’t you tell me about my father? Why did you keep it all to yourself? Don’t you trust me still? I thought we had something far more than just sex here,” Draco said.

“Yes, we do! Course I trust you! God, Draco, I-” fancy you, want to spend all my time with you… love you? -“I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t! I just didn’t want to ruin our holiday together, that’s all. Same reason no one told me about the article I expect.”

“You can’t confide in me,” Draco all but whispered, and he sounded sad, not angry. His right hand absently stroked his left forearm, where the Mark was located. The simple action broke Harry’s heart. “You sit there, spilling out all your most private thoughts and feelings to Ginny fucking Weasley, but you can’t tell me a damn thing, not even that my father threatened you and our baby, because you don’t fucking trust me- me, the Marked Death Eater. Tell me, Harry, what sort of a future does that give us?”

Just then Ron and Hermione returned, and Harry was surprised to see how late it was. The rain outside had morphed into snow as they travelled north, and had begun to fall quite heavily over the Yorkshire Dales, which Harry could see in the distance from the window. The sky was bleak and the poor January light was already beginning to fail. The weather was obviously incredibly cold. He wished he was still tucked up in Andromeda’s spare bedroom, with Draco curled around him and the Muggle central heating making the room cosy, just as he was only hours previously. Had that really been the same day?

The rest of the journey was awkward at best. Hermione had her nose stuck in a copy of Transfiguration Today, Ron interchanged from talking loudly about nonsense and then referencing the ‘pile of steaming Crup shit’ that was the article, whilst Draco sat stoically. Harry had taken to staring out of the window. The landscape outside now was a sheet of white, and it reminded him bitterly of Hedwig. He felt a few kicks and stoked his bump back in response. He saw Draco give him a sideways glance, but no hand came out to join his like it normally did when the baby was moving.

Eventually the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, and everyone headed for the Thestral-drawn carriages. In Harry’s maudlin mood, he wondered how many of the students could see the Thestrals now. He followed his friends and Draco into a carriage and headed up towards Hogwarts Castle.

Ginny and Neville were in the entrance hall when Harry arrived. Neville shot him a smile and waved.

“The article was nothing but lies, Harry,” he called, as Harry made his way into the Great Hall. “I just wanted you to know I knew that.”

“Thanks, Nev,” Harry said, forcing a smile, whilst Ginny shot him a worried gaze. He made his way to the Gryffindor table and his heart sank when Draco headed to the Slytherin one without a word. He pressed his lips tightly together and took a few deep, steadying breaths.

“It’ll be okay, Harry,” Hermione said, and gave his shoulders a comforting squeeze. “Draco will come round.”

Harry just hoped she was right.

*

Harry finished eating (what he’d managed to force down, anyway, as he had no appetite), and began to make his way to Gryffindor Tower to collect his stuff. He still intended to at least try to move in to Draco’s room, even if Draco would simply slam the door in his face. Harry had never given up and walked away from a situation before, and he most certainly wasn’t about to start now.

As he walked he thought. Draco was convinced Harry didn’t trust him still, and Harry had to concede he could see why Draco thought that way, especially with their history. The truth was, Harry never confided in anyone. Not even Ron and Hermione (or even Ginny), unless he was pushed. It was just the natural reaction for him. But he needed a bona fide way to prove to Draco that he did, indeed, trust him now. But how? An idea came to him and he smiled to himself. Yes, he thought, that might just work. He continued to the Tower happier than he’d been at dinner, determined to fix this mess.

*

Draco looked surprised to see Harry standing at the door to his room.

“Before you tell me to piss off, can we talk?” Harry said. He’d brought a bag of his essential clothing, toiletries etc with him. Draco took one look at the bag, gave him a very Malfoy-ish sneer, but stood aside to let Harry in. He entered Draco’s- their?- room, dumped his bag in the corner, and sat down.

“Please, Draco. Just listen to me,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Lucius, and I’m sorry that I told Ginny things- personal things- about us that I probably shouldn’t have said. But you’re wrong. I really do trust you.”

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out what looked like an ordinary blank sheet of parchment. Draco clearly thought that was what it was, and stared at it in confusion, as Harry handed it to him.

“What-” he began, but Harry placed a finger gently on his lips to stop him.

“Tap your wand, and say, ‘I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good’. Go on, try it.”

Draco did as instructed, and Harry watched as his eyes widened, as the Marauders’ Map sprung to life.

“It’s a map? Of Hogwarts?” Draco asked in obvious confusion. “Hang on- it shows everyone in the castle! Harry, where did you get this?”

“My dad made it when he was at school,” Harry said proudly. “He, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black made it. And, um, I guess Wormtail helped them too. It’s one of only a tiny number of things that I own that belonged to my dad. It’s really, really special to me. And I’d like you to have it for the remainder of our time here at Hogwarts.”

Draco’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and his expression was unreadable.

“You want me to have your Map? Why?”

“I trust you. I trust you enough to hand over one of the most important possessions I own to you,” Harry said truthfully, and he saw Draco’s face soften at the words. “And I care about your safety. I can’t be with you all the time, and now Nott and Goyle are back at school I’d like you to be able to make sure you don’t run in to them- in the toilets and things. This map will show you that.” He reached out and took one of Draco’s hands in his, and was relieved when Draco didn’t throw it off.

“I’m sorry I made you doubt me- us. And I promise- in future you will be the first person I confide in.”

Draco gave a strangled sort of a noise, which could have been a sob, and suddenly his arms were wrapped tightly around Harry’s neck, the Marauders’ Map tightly in his hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered, as Harry’s arms tightened around Draco in response. “And I’m sorry, too. I overreacted. It’s just- I find it hard to comprehend that you of all people actually want me, after what I’ve done and what’s branded on my arm, and I keep waiting for someone to succeed in taking you away.”

“Your father definitely wants me out of the picture, but I’m going nowhere,” Harry said. “I mean it, Draco. I’m not leaving, OK?” Just then the baby kicked. Harry put Draco’s hand onto his stomach. “She’s missed you,” he said.

“He,” Draco corrected automatically.

“Don’t start that again,” Harry admonished, and he leant forwards and kissed him.

It was a kiss of apologies, and promises, and solidarity, and it was completely and utterly wonderful. Harry deepened the kiss, but there was nothing sexual in it; he was overwhelmingly relieved, and just wanted to be close to Draco. Eventually Draco broke the kiss, and rested his forehead against Harry’s. Harry was delighted to see that Draco was slightly breathless. He grinned at Harry, then pulled away, walking over to this writing desk.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, as Draco drew out a sheet of parchment and a quill.

“Writing to my father,” Draco said, dipping the quill into an inkpot.

Harry read over his shoulder. Draco scrawled, Nice Try, Father, on the parchment, signed it, then folded it in half. He grinned at Harry.

“Short and sweet. Perfect,” Harry said, as Draco slung a cloak over his shoulders. “Shall I come to the Owlery with you?”

“No need,” Draco said with a smile. “I have my Map.” He gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. “Why don’t you unpack your belongings whilst I’m gone? I won’t be long.”

The door to their (Yes! Their! Harry thought happily) room closed, leaving Harry alone. He began to unpack- his toothbrush placed next to Draco’s, his robes sharing wardrobe space with the other man’s. It had been a horrible day. For a few hours, Harry thought he was going to lose the unbelievable happiness he’d found over the past couple of weeks, and it had scared him witless. For the truth had hit him full-blown in the face.

Harry was rapidly falling in love with Draco Malfoy.
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Expecting the Unexpected