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Desperately Wanting	By : SamHill Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 25310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Co. owns the boys and their world. I'm just borrowing her canvas and paints. I make no money from the Harry Potter characters or universe and I own nothing at all.

Chapter List
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A/N: It would seem that I did not correctly disclaim this story…

Title: Desperately wanting

Author: Faery Queen

Rating: goes from PG - NC-17

Warnings: Completely AU, slash, h/c, angst, mentions of past abuse/neglect

Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Co. owns the boys and their world (i.e. she owns everything Harry Potter and earns the profits, not me!!). I’m just dabbling in it. I make no money and I own nothing but the computer I’ve written this on. See that? Nothing to do with Harry Potter is mine… Because I would never have killed Snape!

**Side Note: The title listed above is for the story as a whole, but the chapter titles should correspond with Myst’s art. I say ‘should’ because she’s changed a few... And for this series only, the day of the pic marks their age in the story – i.e. Day seven; they’re seven years old. Go to Mystkyten’s website right now and check out the advent. Then hit ‘Home’ and check out all her other stuff while you’re at it!!

Merry Christmas (and all those other wonderful December celebrations!)

Artist: Mystkyten (www.mystkyten.net/advent.html)

Chapter 1: Little Match Boy (day 7)

If only… If only I weren’t such a bad boy. Maybe then… Maybe then I’d have presents, like Dudley gets. Only, I’d take better care of them. I wouldn’t break them straight away just to see if I’d get new ones.

The winter’s chill found little resistance from the tattered and dirty clothing that hung from Harry’s frame and the little boy shivered as he shuffled closer to the glowing window. He had no clue where he was, or even how had gotten there, but he was too cold and hungry to care. Standing on tiptoe, he could just barely see through the window, so he scrambled up onto a ledge and inched closer. The fingers of his left hand were bleeding slightly from where he had gripped the rough stone, so he pressed them between his knees before looking inside.

The house, though Harry thought it looked more like a shiny castle, was warm and inviting. Candles flickered in the window, and a Christmas tree stood across the room, cheerfully decorated and twinkling happily. It reminded him of the Dursley’s tree, only without all the ugly ornaments that Dudley brought home from grade school. Beneath the tree were dozens of presents, all brightly wrapped and waiting for some lucky child to tear them open.

The large, wooden doors across the room were flung open suddenly, and a boy about Harry’s age flew into the room, two bundles of fur dashing madly around his feet. At the base of the tree, the pale little boy flung himself down, white-blond hair barely shifting out of place despite the energetic movements. As the kittens played, the boy watched them and, sitting outside in what were rapidly turning into below-freezing temperatures, Harry watched all three.

His tears had been cried out years before, but though he was far away from the angry eyes of his uncle, Harry bit back his whimpers and he shifted on his seat. His bum was still sore from the thrashing his Uncle Vernon had given him with his Aunt Petunia’s bristle brush. He knew he shouldn’t have touched the pretty bow on Dudley’s present, but he had thought they were all upstairs going to bed. He had thought, stupidly, that his uncle had simply forgotten to lock him in his cupboard.

I wish I could be in there, he thought miserably as he pulled himself into a tighter ball. His thighs and bum might hurt, but his fingers were turning blue and his nose felt so cold he was almost sure it would fall off. He reached up tentatively to touch his hair and was glad to see that it was dry and not frozen. Having one’s hair break off was rather embarrassing!

The cold that had seeped into his bones whispered in his mind. Sleep. Warm. Sleep. He knew the second was lie; it was snowing out, how could he possibly get warm? But the first and the last was a good idea if ever there was. Certainly, if he slept, he might dream he was warm. Words like hypothermia didn’t mean anything to him, and so, with his one Christmas wish swirling through his mind – a wish to finally have a home like the little boy on the other side of the window – Harry drifted off into a troubled sleep.

~ * ~

Snape Apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor, the silver and green wrapped present tucked beneath one arm. Long, lank black hair fell wetly against his shoulder and face, the snow dampening it. He resisted the urge to turn back; showing up for these ridiculous family ‘festivities’ was hardly what he called fun, but Draco was a beautiful, happy child and Snape had little else in his life like that. Besides, he did enjoy indulging his godson in all meanings of things Lucius Malfoy would not buy his son and heir. Like the Muggle toy train set he had bought last year.

Scowling fiercely, he stalked up the path, only to freeze in his steps when he neared the front door. There, perched perilously on the ledge of the plant pot outside the Malfoy’s family room window, was a small person. A child, Snape corrected, as he drew closer.

And a child it most certainly was. A child clad in clothes that had been worn past decency and were so large, three of the boy could fit in them. At least, Snape assumed that what he was looking at was a boy.

He edged nearer to the sleeping figure, wand clutched tightly in a pale hand, the stained fingers flexing as he contemplated what he should do. The child was obviously lost; no one simply walked up to Malfoy Manor these days, even after Lucius conviction, sentence and “rehabilitation”. The man might not be as wretched as he once was, but he still didn’t instill the sense of open-armed invitation that would lure in small children.

Shifting the present to the same arm as his wand, he reached out with one long, tapered finger and poked the unmoving body. It shifted back without a sound and he could see the pale blue lips part minutely. So, not dead then… Then he saw the boy’s face and the heart he had thought long-dead gave a tiny shudder.

The face was thinner than most children’s were and though Draco had a slight build and features that leaned more toward fine (pointy) than round, Snape was aware that this was not common for most children. But if that was a similarity between the two, then the difference was that never had Draco been left this dirty and bedraggled. Worse, beneath the layer of grime, Snape could see the tell-tale signs of bruising both old and new.

Anger mounted and even before he was conscious of doing so, Snape had tucked both wand and gift away and was reaching for the boy. It wasn’t until the child’s head rolled back that he saw the scar; such an innocuous thing on any other child shocked the dour Potions Master to his core when he spotted it on his new charge. The scar, shaped like a lightning bolt brought up memories of old that he long ago buried.

The Potter brat! But… We were told he was being cared for. That he was safe with those Muggle relatives of his while the last of the Dark Lord’s followers were rounded up and locked away. Could… Could Albus have been wrong? And if so, how did he not discover the boy’s mistreatment sooner?

But then, Dumbledore had been old and the death of the Dark Lord had meant that he no longer needed to fight against the pains of his body and magic. So many years, so many battles and wars, had taken their toll and the older wizard had passed away peacefully not three years before. It had pained Snape greatly, losing the one person who shown faith in his new convictions, once he had turned from the Dark Lord’s shadow.

He gritted his teeth and pushed aside the desire to leave the child to his death. His father I would have left to die gladly, but not a child. Not a child who has seen what this boy has obviously seen. With that thought in mind, he pulled his wand back out and pointed at the unconscious boy, murmuring the charms for warming the thin frame and ones to get the blood flowing more normally.

Gathering his bundle close, he swept his cloak around them both and moved up the stairs to the main door and rang the bell rope twice. Insistently. While he waited, he went over his options quickly but carefully. By the time the door opened and the house-elf, Dobby, bowed and waved him in, Snape had made his decision.

“Severus! How wonderful to see you!” The cloyingly sweet scent of Narcissa Malfoy’s perfume wafted around him, and Snape wrinkled his large, sensitive nose at her. She laughed gaily and waved the fumes away.

“Narcissa. A pleasure, as always.”

“Severus! I was beginning to think that you weren’t going to show up.” Lucius entered the main entrance way, a glass of bourbon in one hand. “Draco has been haranguing us all day as to when you would arrive.”

“Yes, and here I am.” He stepped all the way into the room, his cloak falling away to reveal his burden.

“Um… you’ve… found a child?” Narcissa sounded as confused as she looked, but when she moved to take a closer look, Snape ducked deftly out of her way.

“I ask that, before you say anything, you know this: I found the boy sitting outside your window. I imagine that, given what day it is, he was watching your son playing with presents. He is nearly dead with cold and has obviously come from a… delicate situation.”

“Delicate how, Severus.” Lucius’ face fell into the mask of his once infamous Death Eater self.

“He has been abused. The extent to which, I do not yet know.”

“And you found him here, you say? Surely you don’t think…?”

“I’m not a fool, Lucius. I have seen you torture Muggles, but never, I believe, a child. So no, I do not think that you are responsible for his current state. Instead, I believe that the blame lies solely on the shoulders of those charged with his care.”

“Do you know the boy, Severus?” Narcissa had snuck up on him, something he cursed himself for allowing, and she peered into the angelic sleeping face. “Oh, he’s quite pretty, isn’t he? And he’s got a scar-” Her gasp had Lucius at her side in only a matter of seconds and they both gaped at the tell-tale lightning bolt.

“Is that… Harry Potter?” It was the first time Snape could recall sincerity in the other man’s incredulous tone.

“Indeed.”

“Uncle Sev!”

Draco’s joyous cry cut off anything else his godfather might have said. Bracing himself for impact, Snape let out a grunt as just over 3 stone of excited boy slammed into his legs.

“Hello, Draco,” he began, only to get cut off.

“Ooh! Is that for me? Did you bring me a boy to play with, Uncle Sev?”

“Of course not, you little fool. One does not simply give away children.” Lucius raised a sardonic brow and Snape glowered at him. “Normal people do not give little boys other little boys for Christmas.”

“Oh.” Soundly thoroughly putout, Draco slid away, arms crossing over his thin chest and his pointed chin poking out petulantly. “Didn’t you bring me anything?”

“I did. However, you shall not get it until after I have put this creature down and seen to his injuries.”

“Did you beat him?” Draco sounded righteously horrified at the prospect.

“Have I ever beaten you?” Snape demanded. “Even when I have been sorely tempted to turn you into potions ingredients for your blatant disrespect, have I not always refrained?”

“That’s just because Father would hex you into the next century,” was the smug reply.

Snape only barely managed to restrain himself from hexing the look off his godson’s face. Instead, he said, “Don’t smirk. It’s an ugly expression on your father’s face and is no better on your own. Now move so that we may take him into the family room.”

“What will you do with him, Severus?” Narcissa asked as she led the way.

“I shall keep him, of course,” Snape replied imperiously.

“But Uncle Sev!! You said-”

“That one does not simply give children away as though they were things. I did not say that one could not keep a child that was, say, beaten by his own family.”

“Oh.” Draco looked troubled only for as long as it took Snape to produce his Christmas gift. Then he was running off, shrieking with delight.

“You spoil him, Severus.”

“Yes, well, he should it enjoy it while it lasts. Once he attends Hogwarts, he will not be so lucky.”

“And Potter?”

“The boy will live with me. Need I say more?”

“And that’s that?”

“Yes, that is, as you so eloquently put it, that. You wax poetic-”

“I most certainly do not!”

“On the merits of having a family,” Snape finished, completely ignoring his host’s protestations. “I have taken away the one he was born into, and this is what has become of the Wizarding World’s savior: beaten and left to wander aimlessly until he somehow spontaneously Apparates himself to the one place he should not feel safe or welcome. I know that which he has survived, so please, you tell me who better to take care of the brat.”

“You can’t call him that, Severus.”

“I most certainly can so. I refuse to call him those atrocious pet names you are so insistent upon hurling at your own son.”

“Fine, fine, but you cannot hex the boy if he calls you ‘dad’.”

Snape looked askance at the mere suggestion, though no one was quite certain as to which part had resulted in the expression. No one was willing to ask either.

At some point, the boy in question had woken, his wide, vibrant green eyes taking in the scene playing around him. At the word dad, a huge, beaming smile broke out upon his face. Draco, seeing that the other boy was finally awake, beckoned him over and Harry complied silently, astounded that someone was actually interested in talking to him. He hesitated as he drew near, remembering the pranks of Dudley’s friends as they pretended to be friends with Harry only to hurt him. His apprehension flew out the window at the blond boy’s words.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy. Uncle Sev says you’re to live with him. That means you have to be my friend and play with me.”

“All right,” Harry replied happily. I’m… I’m Harry. Harry Boy, I think.”

Draco shot him a bewildered look, then shook his head, clearly uncaring of his friend’s identity crisis. “And you’ll have to share your toys with me,” Draco warned.

“I haven’t got any. ‘Cept some old broken ones Aunt ‘Tunia didn’t throw away. But they’re back home under my mat in the cupboard.”

“Cupboard?”

“Yep. It’s under the stairs. It has spiders, but they’re nice.”

“Ew. You’ll have to share my room until Uncle Severus gets a room ready for you. He doesn’t know anything about having a little boy in his house. He has millions of rules and he yells at his potions a lot.”

“Does he hit hard? ‘Cuz Uncle Vernon sometimes hit hard and then I get dizzy.”

Twin pale brows rose, but Draco only shook his head in the negative once more. “Nope, Uncle Sev never hits anyone. Well, except Father, but Father only laughs. But he’ll make you clean up all your messes. The Muggle way!”

“What’s Muggle?”

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Harry Boy. It’s a good thing you have you me to teach you.”

And then they were tucked away in the corner, with Draco showing Harry all of his toys and explaining all the Wizarding words he knew. Severus looked on in mild interest.

“He is right, you know. Harry will have a lot to learn before he’s ready for the Wizarding World.”

“Yes, and I shall start with his name.”

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” Narcissa replied, laughing at Snape’s scandalized expression.

“Hey!” All eyes turned to Harry, who blushed and looked down at his feet. “Thank you,” he whispered softly.

“For what, Harry,” Narcissa asked, dropping down to gather both boys close.

“For making my Christmas Wish come true. I always wanted a family.”

“Then Merry Christmas, Harry Potter. And may this be the first of many to come,” Lucius smiled graciously.

“Indeed. Now, I do believe that a meal was promised.”

“As it was. Please, if you’ll follow me to the dining room, we can begin.”

And, fully aware of the effects of long-term abuse, Snape bodily lifted his new charge up onto his hip, looking extremely awkward, and carried him into the formal dining room. Seating Harry on the chair beside his, he pulled a plate close and ladled it down with hearty portions.

“Eat what you can and not too quickly or you’ll make yourself sick,” he cautioned, then left Draco to take care of the rest. Raising his glass of champagne, he looked at his hosts and hostess. “Merry Christmas,” he bit out, then tossed back the contents.

“Merry Christmas,” was the rejoinder and everyone dug in…

*
*

*

Chapter 2: Kittens (day 14)

“They haven’t gotten much bigger, have they?”

“They’re not supposed to, stupid. Father bought a special breed that would stay small.”

“Yeah, so you wouldn’t get bored with them. How old are they now, anyway?”

“Well, seeing as how I got them the same Christmas that Uncle Snape brought you home for me-”

“Oi! He didn’t bring me for you! I just showed up ‘cause my magic was all wonky back then!”

“That would make them 7 years old, give or take a few months,” Draco carried on blithely.

“Hmph.” Harry watched the black cat dance upon its hind legs, front paws extended to swipe at the feather Draco was teasing it with. “They’re awfully cute,” he said finally, his tone only mildly wistful.

“Why don’t you ask Uncle to get you one?”

Harry frowned. “He’s still mad at me over my potions grade. I’ve tried to tell him that I’m balls at potions-”

“Yes, well, if you use language like that, it’s no wonder he’s upset. You sound like a ruffian Muggle!”

Viridian eyes glared mutinously at the blond boy. “I didn’t say it like that. I told him that I found it difficult to maintain the correct hand motions while attempting to add the appropriate ingredients in the proper order.”

“Huh.” Draco seemed only slightly mollified by this answer. “Well, you can have one of mine,” he offered generously, and rewarded himself with a silent cheer and an invisible pat on the back when the green eyes lit up.

“You mean, I can name him something other than Draco’s Other Cat?”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, the Slytherin boy closed his grey eyes, nodding his assent to his Gryffindor “brother”. “Yes, but don’t make it something stupid.”

“How about Doc?”

“Doc? Doc? Surely you jest! That’s the most idiotic name that I’ve ever heard! I will not have my other cat named after some ridiculous elf in a Muggle fairytale! How absurd! Of all the completely stupid, utterly atrocious names-”

“I rather liked it,” Harry cut in, his eyes wide with hurt. “I thought you wouldn’t mind since the letters stand for Draco’s Other Cat.”

In an instant, all of Draco’s indignation fled and he was throwing himself down beside his closest friend. “Aw, Harry-Boy, I didn’t really mean all that. It’s a wonderful name. I shall have Father engrave it on his new collar immediately!”

“So it’s- I mean, you don’t think I’m stupid ‘cause I’m Muggle?”

“I only think you’re stupid, Harry,” Draco whispered softly, lips so close to Harry’s that they almost touched, “when you think I could honestly mean the nasty things I say. You’re my best friend and there’s nothing that pleases me more than seeing you smile.”

The moment was there, nearly a tangible thing and Draco noted, in the vague, off-handed way that boys usually do, that he would only have to move forward fractionally before his lips would touch Harry’s and oh, wouldn’t that be something.

But he didn’t. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t fully comprehend what that want was. Yes, he had kissed girls, but that was different than kissing boys. The courage one need for the latter was much different than with a girl. You couldn’t just pull a boy’s ponytail and cry out that now he had Cooties like you could with a girl. So instead he moved smoothly to his feet and held out a hand to the boy he shared almost everything with. Pulling Harry up beside him, he place a hand on a broadening shoulder, leaned in close to a perfectly shaped ear and whispered, “Let’s go see what Mother has in the kitchens for snack.”

*

*

*

Chapter 3: Christmas Cuddle (day 17)

Harry woke slowly, back arching off the couch as sleep-fogged eyes blinked open. Dangling above his face was a twig of mistletoe and holding it was none other than his closest friend, Draco Malfoy.

“I’m not a cat you know,” Harry smiled up at his best friend.

“Are you sure about that,” Draco replied archly. “You certainly purr like one every time you wake up from one of those dreams you have about the Weasley bint, I mean, girl.” He tamped down on the wave of jealousy that coursed through him at the thought of his Harry snogging the Weaslette.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Draco,” Harry argued softly, moving to sit up. Draco’s hand came down flat on his chest, pinning him place. He grabbed at it with both hands and smiled up gently into stormy grey eyes. “Yeah, Ginny’s in the dream-” The fingers flexed, sending a jolt of sensation through his body. “But it’s not her I’m snogging, as you so eloquently put it.”

“Then who was it? Tell me it wasn’t that Cho girl you were obsessed with in 4^th year.”

“No, it wasn’t her, either. It wasn’t even a girl, Draco.”

The pain was sharp and quick when it stabbed through the blond’s heart, and right on its heels was the feeling of utter betrayal. “You never said anything, Harry…”

“I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“But- Even though you knew perfectly well what Blaise and I got up to last year after the Halloween Feast!”

“Yeah, but this was different.” And Harry looked so unsure, so worried, that Draco attempted to crush down the anger boiling up fast within him.

“How so?” he demanded.

“Because- Because I was dreaming about you, all right! Only Ginny kept walking in and interrupting.” He looked ready to fall apart at the admission and most assuredly the blaze of red across his cheeks declared loud and clear just how humiliated he was at having just blurted it all out.

And the anger was gone with only a scant few words. Grinning down at his friend, Draco dangled the mistletoe over his nose once more. “At least you got one thing right in your dream.” At Harry’s inquiring look he laughed, “I’d make you purr all night long!”

With that he cast aside the twig and leaned forward, catching Harry’s face within his hands as he began dropping kisses across the high cheekbones and smooth forehead. When he reached the full, slightly pouty lips, he paused for breath and let his silvery gaze meet a nearly blackened-green one. “I have been wanting to do this for ages, Harry-Boy,” he whispered, then closed the gap once more.

~ * ~

“Well?” Lucius and Snape demanded together.

“Well what?” Narcissa reached for a cup of tea and took a dainty sip. “Oh,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Were you inquiring after the boys? They’re doing just fine.”

“Woman!” Snape stood in a flurry of robes. “You will tell us what is going on in there immediately or we shall go and discover it for ourselves.”

“You do that, dear,” Narcissa replied, a haughty expression on her face. “You might want to be quick about it, though, or it may progress to the point of no clothes.”

Lucius looked disbelieving, but Snape only sat back down, a strained look on his face that the Lady Malfoy realized was the beginnings of a smile. “It’s about damn time. He’s been moping about the house for the last year, mooning over that son of yours.”

“Hmph. The boy should have said something sooner, then. How was Draco to know!” Lucius glared at his friend.

“Only because he’s been much the same way, dear,” his wife said with a sniff. “Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m going to go ask the house-elves to stay dinner for another hour or so. Perhaps bourbon in the library would suffice?”

The men grumbled but pushed away from the dining room table all the same, heading off for Lucius infamous study. “Narcissa, dear,” Lucius called out before they were out of ear shot.

“Hmm?”

“Would you mind requesting that the house-elves spell the cushions stain resist before anything gets too serious?”

“Already done, husband.” And she twirled away in a rush of dancing skirts, her mind already planning out the bedrooms for her future grandchildren.

*

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*

Chapter 4: Fairies (day 19)

Draco did it because he knew that Harry would like the effects. It seemed, when he really thought about it, that a lot of things he did lately were just because he knew Harry would like them. And Merlin knows how much I like to see him smile. I feel like a damn Hufflepuff with its bleeding heart charmed to its sleeve whenever I look him. He sighed and reached for another delicate glass ball, tapping it with his wand so that the fairy trapped within could fly out to perch on the tree.

There were already a dozen or so spread out on the branches, each one laughing and tinkling away gaily. One flew off past his head and Draco half-growled under his breath. “I’m too bloody old to be decorating a Christmas tree with fairies, for Merlin’s sake!” he muttered, completely unaware of his other audience.

“Yes, but you look stunning encased within their light.” Harry’s voice, a soft tenor, was little more than a breathy whisper that skittered across Draco’s ear, causing him to shiver. “And I love nothing more than simply watching you.”

“That’s because you’re too much a Gryffindor to be caught dead putting fairies on a Christmas tree.”

“And a Slytherin would?” Harry’s left hand slid down Draco’s side to his thigh, gently rubbing circles over the taut muscles. Draco shuddered and leaned back, his eyes drifting shut at the mesmerizing sensations.

“A Slytherin would recognize the opportunity to seduce or-” He gasped as the hand on his thigh rose to brush over the front of his jeans and the tightening bulge there. He gulped and continued, voice cracking once. “Or to be seduced.”

“Do you want me to seduce you, Draco,” Harry asked, nearly inaudibly over the sound of the cats play-fighting in the background.

“Gods yes.”

Harry’s free hand came up, possibly to take the glass decoration from his boyfriend’s hand, but a fairy lit onto it, her high voice indistinguishable to the human ear. She looked excited about something, but Harry didn’t understand her gestures, so he simply smiled, nodded and waved her back towards the trees.

“Where are your parents,” he asked as the normally composed blond arched into him wantonly. It was all, Harry knew, a ruse.

“Out. With Uncle Severus. Please, Harry…”

“Please what?”

Draco turned in the strong arms, his slightly thin, pink lips crashing down onto plump, red ones. “Please take your clothes off,” the former Slytherin demanded, all acts of submissive abandonment disappearing in the blink of eye. Once more he was Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Hogwarts and Harry’s arduous lover, taking charge of the situation just when his lover of a year had hoped for the upper hand.

“What if they return early?” Harry was breathless when he finally reclaimed the use of his own mouth, and he blinked back widely at the molten silver gaze pinning him in his steps.

“They won’t. They’ve gone off to a Ministry event. Now strip.”

Harry complied quickly enough to make his lover happy, but paced himself to draw out the moment. Draco’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched and the lights of the room dimmed until all that remained was the soft illumination of the fairies’ lights. Backing up to the sofa directly across from tree, Harry sank back, stretching out until every inch of him was on display, shivering as the silver eyes feasted on bared flesh.

The green tank top was lifted away in one fluid moment and the long, slim fingers that Harry loved so much moved to the button fly on the jeans. They were popped open one at a time, and the denim trousers pushed slowly down lean, toned legs. Harry’s heart beat erratically against his chest and the blood not currently rushing south roared in his ears as he became entranced by Draco’s solo performance.

Draco’s lithe form, now completely bared to Harry’s hungry gaze, dropped down to all fours and he prowled forward. His eyes never left the glowing, viridian ones, even as he slithered up the length of the golden-tanned body of his lover.

“What do you want for Christmas, Harry?” Perfectly even, white teeth nibbled gently on Harry’s earlobe, the soft, pink tongue darting out to soothe the minor hurt.

“This. Our family. You.” Harry’s voice caught and broke over the last word as the mouth moved down the slender throat to the well-muscled chest, biting gently at a beaded nipple. The gasp that burst free filled the room, drowning out the low hum coming from the Christmas tree’s occupants.

The hands skirting over Harry’s waist slid close to their destination, only to dance away at the last second. The raven-haired young man groaned in disappointment, only to cry out when the hot mouth moved further south.

“Draco!” Harry shouted the name as wet heat clamped down around him, sucking firmly as a talented tongue wrapped around his cock. He cried out again when Draco pulled back, keeping his lips loose around the head, tonguing the tiny slit.

Fingers slid back to cup tightening balls then moved to cut off the impeding orgasm. Harry let out a strangled sound, his body arching up, teeth gritted against the pain of denial. Draco chuckled, low and deep as he eased his grip. His free hand rubbed soothing circles over the tension-tight stomach. When the body began to still once more, he slid over to lie beside Harry.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah. I love you, too, Dray.” He laughed when Draco’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “Fine, just Draco, then.”

“Thank you. Now, where was I? Oh yes. I love you. And I want this, Harry. I want it… forever.”

Harry’s brows drew together in confusion. “Forever? I’m here, Draco. I won’t ever leave you.”

“No, you dolt! As in, I want you to become a part of my family.”

“I’m not already?”

Draco rolled his eyes, his hand slipping down unnoticed as he leaned in to whisper, “I want you to marry me, Harry, and make it official.”

Harry’s ecstatic ‘yes!’ was lost as two fingers breached him, side by side and charmed slick, and he cried out hoarsely. The mouth hovering over his stole away his breath and he choked back a sob before the blond could ridicule him for it.

The fingers inside him parted, stretching him wide. The burn was there, just like always, but it was a comfortable burn. A welcomed pain, now that he knew what lay in store. All too soon – and yet not soon enough – the fingers were withdrawn and something thicker, heavier and blunt was pressed against the stretched opening.

“Make a wish, Harry,” Draco ordered, even as he began to slowly breach the other boy.

Harry’s mind seemed to shut down almost immediately, but as the hum of the fairies’ voices rose, a single thought slid through it. A real family. The words became a litany, playing over and over inside his head as Draco began to move. Lips met, tongues tangled, fingers gripped… Soft sounds escaped as Draco’s thrust became harder, faster, and one of the talented hands closed around Harry’s weeping cock, stroking it in tandem.

“Please, Draco. Please. Oh gods, please!” And then he was crying out again. Draco’s voice soft and steady, carried him through the aftershocks of his most intense orgasm to date. The singing voices of the fairies reached a whole new pitch as Draco began to move again only to end abruptly when he too finally came, emptying himself in his lover.

Draco’s head came up, sweat beading and dropping off to land on Harry’s still-heaving chest, and he glared at their audience-turned-interlopers. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, Dray-co. But if you could please clean us up, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Draco glanced down at the green eyes still dazed and laughed again. “I love you, Harry-boy. Don’t ever change,” he whispered against the parted lips. Summoning his wand, he waved it lazily over their bodies until the sticky mess of the copulation disappeared completely. Then he tossed it down and settled back in for more mouth-ravaging.

They broke apart as the barely audible cracks of Apparition sounded outside, jolting apart and diving back into their clothes. Draco was just tucking Harry’s hair back – fully aware that order would never exist for the messy strands – when the three adults strode into the room.

Narcissa glanced around the room, her nostrils flaring only slightly as she took in the obvious scent of sex. Her gaze landed on the fairies twittering in the tree and her face broke into a wide grin that looked absolutely terrifying. Draco gulped and pulled Harry into the protective circle of his arms. “Mother?” he queried, fearful of her next words.

“Oh nothing, Draco. Only, I hope you finally asked your young man to marry you seeing as how you’ve just experienced the power of nearly twenty fertility fairies all contained in the same room.”

The boys paled, Lucius groaned and Snape’s face turned various shades of red before heading into less appealing purples.

“Oh, didn’t you know?” she asked as headed for the door once more. “I thought perhaps it would speed things along. Lord knew they came in handy when you were conceived, dear.” She left four gaping men staring after her…

*

*

*

Chapter 5: Babies (day 22)

“I can’t believe how big they’ve gotten,” Harry commented, eyes fixed on the two figures tumbling across the rug.

“Neither can I,” Draco replied with a sniff. “Father paid a fortune for them because they were supposed to stay small for their entire lives.”

“I meant the children, you ponce.”

“No need for name-calling,” was the snotty response. “And really, Harry, they are almost two. And weren’t you saying just yesterday that you couldn’t wait for them to be old enough to go on the broom with you?”

“Well, yeah, but I swear it was just the other day that they were these tiny little things…” The green eyes became slightly unfocused as he fell back into memories from only 18 months previous.

“Yes,” Draco said finally, cutting into Harry’s thought. “And it was just yesterday that you were cursing me for getting you pregnant in the first place.”

“That’s because it was your fault. I had no clue males could get pregnant. Sev failed to tell me that!”

“That’s because he didn’t want to put ideas in the mind of a little boy desperate to have a family of his own.” The hurt in Harry’s eyes had Draco immediately regretting his words. “Harry-Boy, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I love you. This family is perfect.”

“I feel like such an idiot sometimes, though. I mean, even growing up with a wizard like Sev hasn’t made me any smarter when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

Draco, who had been lying on his back, rolled to his side and propped his head in his hand. His grey eyes watched the myriad of emotions playing over Harry’s face. He looks… beautiful. He’d hate me if I said it aloud, but it’s true. And I can still see that lost little boy who showed up here fifteen years ago. Only, now he’s older, absolutely delectable and… glowing? Dawning horror leeched the color out of his eyes.

Careful not to raise his voice – as their daughter was now standing between Harry’s knees, avidly watching the kittens Lucius had bought for her and her brother- Draco ventured out a tentative, “Um… Harry?”

“Hmm?” His attention was once more caught by their children playing. Their son, Soren, plunked his diapered butt down by Draco, reaching out to pull on the white kitten’s tale. His hand was redirected to his toes before catastrophe could ensue.

“Harry… Without taking this the wrong way… Have you noticed that you’ve been a bit more… emotional lately?” He winced when his voice cracked on the second to last word.

“What are you trying to say, Draco? That I’m whiny?”

The blond grimaced. “No, that everything I say seems to hurt your feelings and I’m really not trying to.” He hurried to continue his train of thought when the verdant gaze narrowed dangerously. “And you’ve gotten really-”

“Fat??”

Draco ignored the edge of hysteria in the words. Oh, damn, I was right… “No, you sorta… glow.”

“Glow?” Panic moved into incredulousness.

“Yes… Like when you were pregnant with the twins.” The former Slytherin held his breath as he watched his husband’s face go blank. Three… Two… One…

“NO! There were no fairies, I took nothing your mother offered me without testing it first…”

Draco felt his face flush as he remembered his midnight snack only two weeks prior with his mother. Oh fuck! I never even gave it a thought as to why she was up so late! Sweet bloody Merlin; Father is going to have a field day with this one!

Harry had cottoned on almost immediately to his lover’s guilt. “Ohmigod! This is your fault! You did this!!”

“Now, Harry-” Draco scrambled to his feet, backing away from the angry expression. Their children looked on in awe.

“Don’t ‘now Harry’ me, you arse. We said we’d wait!! And we took precautions. Precautions, I might add, that you skipped out on at least once.”

“I did not! I took every precaution I could-” He withered under the glare. “Well, I wasn’t expecting her to slip something into the warm milk she made me!!” He took a deep breath and reached for the words that pained him to voice aloud.

“Look, Harry, we- We don’t have to do this.”

“What, argue?” the raven haired young man growled.

“No. I mean, have- Have the baby.”

And just as quickly as Harry had gone from pensive to angry he dipped from mounting fury into horrified shock. “You- You want me to get rid of it?” The tears in the emerald green eyes were too much for Draco.

“No, of course not, Harry. I just want you to be happy. I want that little lost boy who was carried in here fifteen years ago to have his Christmas Wish granted, but I don’t want you to feel forced.”

His words, it seemed, were precisely what Harry needed to hear, for he suddenly collapsed back down to the ground – Draco catching him halfway through his descent and lowering him more gently – and gave into the happy tears. For his part, the blond just gulped and sank down beside his hormonal partner. He bit back a groan as Soren cannoned into him, rocking him back a bit. Lucy clamored straight into Harry’s arms, her tiny hands wiping away his tears.

Neither child talked much, but their faces were expressive and right now she looked decidedly worried. Harry let out a watery laugh and trapped her hands against his cheeks with his own. “Daddy?” His youngest child – if only by three minutes – queried.

“Daddy’s okay, baby,” he whispered hoarsely. “Daddy is just-”

“Ecstatic because you’re gonna have a baby brother or sister soon,” Draco cut in, slate eyes suspiciously shiny.

“Baby?” Twin cherubic faces appeared side-by-side in Harry’s line of vision, their eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed, emotions firmly in check and eyes holding a sinister gleam that boded ill for Draco. “Papa and Daddy are having another baby. And now, Lucy-Love, it’s time for you and your brother to go to bed. Papa and I need to talk…”
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Desperately Wanting