Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Wonky Start	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4011 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K.Rowling owns it

Chapter List
- 1-A Wonky Start
- 1
Author's note: This is a prequel to Starting Over and completes the series - for now. This is the chronological time line of the series (and the order in which you can read them if you want to do it according to the time line): A Wonky Start - Starting Over - Starting Again- Starting Anew
Warnings: Harry's pov (no Scorpius' this time, sorry guys); angst; smidgen of drama; implied lemon; mentioned infidelity; MPreg
I hope you like this installment!

A Wonky Start
"I want you to practice this particular spell by next week. You have improved, but your wand movements are still a bit off," the duel instructor informed the brown haired young man, who vigorously nodded.
"I will. Thank you, Mister Potter!" he said and with a polite nod, the young man left the room, after making certain his sleeves weren't still smoking, due to a misfired spell.
As soon as the door swung closed, Harry took a deep breath and slumped down against the wall, willing the queasiness to disappear. He had been feeling nauseous for quite a while now and it was starting to interfere with his job and his daily life in general. At least once a day, he saw the inside of the toilet bowl and he was getting fed up with it. Not only did he have to throw up at least once every day, but the rest of the day he was left feeling queasy and by the end of the day he was just glad to crawl into his bed.
It was getting more difficult to hide his nausea from his friends; while they didn't see each other as frequently as they used to – each one busy with their job – both Hermione and Ron were perceptive enough to notice that something was going on with him and he was running out of excuses to not see a Healer.
Steeling himself, he straightened his back and took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. The nausea was creeping up again, unsettling his stomach and he waited until he felt fairly certain he wouldn't start hurling the moment he took a step forwards. He would have taken potions against the nausea, but the few times he had taken those, they hadn't helped at all. If anything, the nausea seemed to grow even worse then, confining him to the bathroom for at least four hours while his stomach expelled its contents until nothing was left but sour bile.
He would have liked nothing more than to go home and settle himself in bed so that he could try to sleep this odd illness off, but he had promised Hermione that he would visit them for dinner. The dark haired wizard suspected that the woman was going to try to convince him to visit a Healer and dinner was just an excuse to get him into her house. Unfortunately he had no valid reason to refuse her invitation and so he would have to put up with her insistence for at least two hours.
He knew she was concerned about him, but there were times when he wished that she would just back off when he told her he was fine.
With a sigh and a queasy stomach, he grabbed his cloak and bag, locked up the small studio he used for his job and stepped out onto the street, intending to walk to his friends' house. Whatever caused this nausea, it also made certain that Apparition was out of the question for him unless he wanted to lose consciousness and wake up with a head splitting headache and a protesting stomach. Luckily for him, their house wasn't that far from his workplace, so he could leisurely walk the whole way instead of hurrying.
Hopefully his stomach would be merciful tonight and would actually allow him to keep his dinner inside his body.

Some higher being must have a lot of fun screwing him over, it seemed. He would laugh about it if he actually thought it was funny.
To appease him and make him weak against her interrogation techniques, Hermione had prepared his favourite dinner – one of the few dishes she didn't mess up (because for all that she was a genius when it came to school subjects, magical theory and fighting for the rights of magical creatures, she was a complete disaster in the kitchen and Harry was happy that at least he didn't have to put up with her cooking attempts every day – unlike her husband).
As soon as Harry entered the kitchen once Hermione had called both him and Ron, the smell of the steak and kidney pudding hit him full in the face. Usually this meant that his mouth would start watering, but this time he barely had inhaled the smell for two seconds, before the nausea reared its ugly head again and he bumped against Ron's shoulders in his hurry to make it to the bathroom before he would throw up on the floor.
Barely reaching the toilet on time, he fell down on his knees, gripped the sides of the immaculate white bowl and started throwing up everything that he had ingested today – which actually wasn't that much, but it felt like an eternity before his stomach stopped rolling. His throat burning thanks to the sour bile, he retched for the last time and pulled back, coughing weakly.
Hermione was already kneeling down next to him, offering a wet washcloth which she pressed against his neck; making him shiver in response at the cool wetness replacing the heated sweat. A glass filled with cool water appeared in his vision and he gratefully accepted it, taking careful sips of it. The cool liquid soothing his burning throat, but he still grimaced at seeing his hand tremble slightly.
Placing the glass on the tiled floor, he slumped down against the wall and stared through half lidded eyes at Hermione.
Concerned brown eyes gazed back at him. "Feeling better?" she asked softly and flushed the toilet.
"A bit," he rasped, wincing when his throat protested against the action.
"Harry, I know you dislike Healers, but don't you think …"
"I'm not visiting one," he replied stubbornly, rehearsing the same answer he always gave her when she brought up a visit to a Healer.
"Look, this isn't simply being sick because you ate bad food," she said frustrated and her hands clenched around the dark fabric of her trousers. Some curly strands of her hair had escaped the messy bun and they fell across her face, leaving her to wipe them away impatiently. "How long have you been throwing up already?"
Harry looked away, his lips pursed together tightly; not willing to admit that he had been suffering from nausea every day for the last two months. He brought a trembling hand up and raked it through his sweaty hair, avoiding her heavy look.
"Andromeda is becoming very worried about you," she continued mercilessly. Any other evening and she would have given up once he refused to answer her, but this time she resembled a bulldog with a bone; clearly she wasn't about to let this go easily. "She contacted me through a letter; apparently you haven't been able to babysit Teddy lately, because you felt too ill."
"Since when are you two in contact with each other?" Harry muttered, annoyed. Andromeda usually only talked to him; not only because he was the godfather of her ten year old grandson, but also because since the war she wasn't able to deal well with a lot of people and the Weasley clan could be quite overwhelming at times. He was already feeling guilty for having to decline watching over Teddy – he didn't need the added guilt of having her worry about him.
"Since a certain wizard is too bloody stubborn to look after himself," Hermione snapped and she slapped her hand harshly against the floor, making Harry jump in surprise.
"Look," he started in a placating voice. "Don't worry about me; I'll be …"
"Harry James Potter, don't you dare tell me that you are fine!" Her voice rose to a high pitch; her eyes practically shooting fire at him. "You are absolutely not fine! Throwing up every day is not the definition of being fine!"
"Eh, 'Mione? Maybe you should calm down a bit," Ron appeared in the doorway; his freckles standing out against his pale skin. "Getting worked up won't help either of you two."
"I wouldn't have to get worked up if this idiot listened for once!" she practically growled and Ron took a step back out of fright.
Reminding himself that he would only feel guilty later if he snapped at the woman in front of him, Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and clear his head and said, "Look, no need to make such a fuss about it, all right? I'm sorry to make you worry, but …"
"If you're really sorry, you would see a Healer," Hermione hissed, obviously not placated by his soothing tone. Well, he should know better by now than to think he would get Hermione to drop an argument.
"Blackmail, Hermione? That's not like you," he murmured in an attempt to joke.
Her face softened and the fire in her eyes petered out a little. "I wouldn't have to resort to blackmail if you would let someone look at you."
"Look, mate, we understand why you're not fond of Healers. Truth be told, I'm not either," Ron said, stepping inside the small bathroom. He gave him a sympathetic smile. "But throwing up daily isn't normal and you really do need someone to look at it. I mean, how much would it suck if you were defeated by a simple bug, after defeating You-Know-Who? Kind of would ruin your reputation, don't you think?"
Involuntarily Harry started to smile and he shook his head. "I know I should see somebody, but how long do you think it would take for the newspapers to discover why I visited a Healer?" he pointed out calmly.
The press hadn't bothered him in the last couple of months, but that was mostly because there was nothing particular to write about. A visit to a Healer however would mean a field day for the press and he wasn't willing to give them that.
Hermione brought a finger up to her mouth and tapped it against her closed lips; a sign that she was in deep thought. Harry exchanged a look with Ron, who just shrugged helplessly; clearly having no idea how Harry could visit someone without the whole Wizarding world knowing about it. Without any warning, Hermione slapped Harry's knee, ignoring his grunt, and said, "Well, why don't you visit Neville? He's a Mediwizard, so he's qualified to examine you and you know he wouldn't betray you to the press." She offered him a bright smile.
She had him there; damn it. The triumphant look in her eyes told him she knew she had just completely destroyed his only argument. He would never learn, would he? "I guess so," he admitted begrudgingly.
"All right then! Let's firecall him now and ask when he can visit you," she smiled and stood up. "Don't think you can get out of this, Harry," she warned him, before she practically skipped out of the room, presumably going to firecall their friend.
Harry glared at Ron, who raised his hands up in the air as if he admitted defeat. "Sorry, mate, but you know she's right. Besides, you don't have to live with her. She's been unbearable ever since you refused to get help," he whispered after making certain that his wife couldn't hear him.
"Ron! Keep an eye on Rose!" Hermione called from somewhere in the house and the red haired man sighed softly.
"Come on, before Rose decides that cookies make a better meal than her mother's cooking," he muttered and helped Harry stand up.
Harry followed his friend to the kitchen where he was greeted by their six year old daughter, who was poking a fork into the pudding, staring at it with a pout adorning her face.
While Ron attempted to convince his daughter that the steak and kidney pudding was delicious ("It's Uncle Harry's favourite dish and you know he doesn't eat yucky food."), Harry half-heartedly started to eat from his portion, while his mind swirled with thoughts. No matter how many thoughts rampaged through his mind, they all focused on one thing: how on earth was he going to explain this to him?

"Thank you for making time to visit me," Harry said and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a tad embarrassed.
Neville offered him a reassuring smile and dusted off the small particles of soot on his robes. "Don't worry about it; I understand." He removed his robes and hung it on the back of the wooden chair while he held his wand loosely in his right hand. Clear blue eyes looked at him expectantly. "Can you tell me what exactly is wrong? Hermione only told me that I needed to examine you and that it was urgent."
Harry grimaced and sunk down on the couch – it had taken a lot of time to clean that one, but he had managed to win the war of cleanliness against Grimmauld Place Twelve. Tugging softly at some strands of his hair, he replied, "For a while, I've been feeling nauseous and I throw up at least once every day."
"How long has this been going on?" Neville asked and approached him. His stride was no longer that of an uncertain, nervous boy, but that of a man with self-confidence.
Harry bit his lip. "Almost two months now."
Neville looked surprised. "That's quite some time already," he commented lightly.
"I know." Harry shrugged weakly. "But you know what I think of Healers."
The sandy haired man smiled gently. "Yes, I know. But I'll examine you now. There has been a new stomach bug going around, so it's likely you caught it."
"Does that one last long?" Harry asked curiously.
"The longest recorded time is five months so far," Neville answered and raised his wand. "Please don't move; otherwise I have to start over again."
Harry kept himself completely still; a trick he had learnt during his Auror training. While a stomach bug would explain his constant nausea, he hoped he wouldn't have to suffer through it for three more months. He couldn't afford to stay sick for so long if he didn't want to raise suspicion. On the other hand, he doubted whether he would be able to hide his nausea from his students. Already some of them had asked him whether he was feeling well.
The confused and apprehensive look on Neville's face alerted him that something was wrong.
"Neville? Did you find something?" he asked warily, not certain whether he would like the answer.
Neville lowered his wand and his clear blue eyes gazed at Harry solemnly. The rose hue in his cheeks were a sharp contrast to the steady gaze in his eyes, "Harry, I don't mean to pry, but … Do you have a partner?"
"A … partner?" Harry repeated blankly, but his heart started beating quicker.
"Yes. Are you in a relationship with someone? Or at the very least are you sleeping with someone?" Neville looked uncomfortable and his fingers twitched around his wand.
"I … Why do you ask?" Harry asked, his throat dry.
"It's important, Harry. I wouldn't ask a question like that, but in this case I need to know," Neville replied and his posture was tense.
Harry's cheeks burned and he looked down at his lap, staring at his clenched hands, when he admitted, "Yes, I'm sleeping with someone."
The words left a bitter taste behind. They usually only did one kind of sleeping and it wasn't the innocent kind – no matter how much Harry wished things were different.
"I need you to be honest now. Have you used any particular potions while you're … in bed with this person?" Neville asked and cleared his throat.
Harry's head shot up. "What? No! What kind of potions could we possibly use?" he asked in a rather high voice. They had used a couple of toys before, but no potions at all. What kind of potions could one even use in bed? Did he even want to know what kind of use those potions had?
"Well, that leaves only one other possibility, I suppose," Neville muttered and he bit his lip.
"Neville, what's wrong with me?" Harry asked, his voice wavering a bit. He didn't like the way Neville was staring at his midsection. Why was he asking those specific questions?
"I …" Neville hesitated and he looked around helplessly, before he plonked down on the wooden table, so that he was on the same level as Harry. "Eh, I don't know whether you are aware of this, but did you know that wizards can get pregnant?"
Harry blinked bewildered, certain that his mind was playing tricks with him. Surely he had heard Neville wrong? Because that particular concept defied all the laws of nature – even with the existence of magic, there was simply no way that could be true.
Right? "What? You're joking, right?" he laughed nervously.
The other man shook his head, giving him a sober look. "I'm not joking. There are certain potions that men can use if they want to conceive." He paused and seemed to debate about something, before he continued slowly, "But there have also been documented cases about men whose magic on its own was strong enough to make conceiving a possibility. Or I should say that the combination of the magic of both partners is capable of making conceiving a possibility. Granted, those cases are very rare, as they require a lot of magic and most wizards don't possess a large amount of magic."
Harry cut off his babbling before he could go any further. "What are you saying? Where are you going with this?" he asked, but his mouth was dry and a dreadful feeling rose up in his body. There was only one way his friend was going with this and he couldn't say he liked where this conversation was heading.
Neville looked at him sympathetically. "I know it must be difficult to hear this, seeing as you obviously weren't aware of this particular thing, but the reason why you're nauseous is because … is because you're pregnant. You're expecting a baby, Harry. My spell estimated that you're around two months pregnant now."
Pregnant. Expecting a baby. Those were things Harry had not expected to hear at all. In fact he had given up on ever having children of his own after discovering that he was gay. Two men couldn't make a baby after all. That was the way nature worked.
Except the Wizarding world didn't agree with the rules of nature. The Wizarding world obviously had managed to trick nature and come up with their own ways of procreating.
Once again Harry was reminded just how little he still knew about the world where he had lived in for sixteen years so far. Why had nobody ever thought to inform him about this little fact? Was this supposed to be common knowledge?
"Are – are you certain?" Harry croaked out.
"Yes, I am. I wouldn't tell you the diagnosis if I wasn't sure," Neville replied softly. "You're currently two months pregnant, Harry."
How on earth … What the hell was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to deal with this type of earth shattering news? This couldn't possibly be happening to him. Surely this had to be a joke. A very misplaced and not funny at all joke, but a joke nonetheless.
Except that Neville didn't lie to his friends. Especially not when he was doing his job.
How was he supposed to cope with news of this magnitude? News he had never expected to hear?
"Harry, I know this must be difficult for you to accept," Neville spoke softly and he leaned forwards slightly. "But there is no mistaking about this: you're having a baby."
"What am I going to do?" Harry whispered and stared wide eyed at his friend. "I … I can't possibly … I'm not supposed to be pregnant! I'm a guy for fuck's sake!"
Neville winced at his profanity use, but remained calm. "The only possibility I can come up with that allowed this to happen is the fact that your magic combined with that of your partner's was strong enough to not only create a temporary womb, but also strong enough to sustain a pregnancy. That doesn't happen often and is a sign of your compatibility with this man."
Shrill laughter escaped Harry's throat and he burrowed his face in his hands. Screw his stupid compatibility! What good was it if it landed him in a fucked up situation like this one?
Warm hands covered his own and gently pulled them away from his face, leaving him to look at the sandy haired man through his blurry sight.
"I'm here to help you, okay?" Neville said softly and patted his hand awkwardly. "I know you probably don't want to think about this now, but we can't exactly put it off for long either."
"What are you talking about?" Harry stared at him mystified. All the sounds felt muted, as if he was submersed under water and he wondered whether this was all just a weird dream and he had just fallen asleep while he waited for Neville to arrive.
"You need to make a decision about the baby." Neville hesitated and said in a rough voice, "You need to decide whether you're going to keep it or not. If you're not going to keep it, you have three weeks to remove it before it is no longer possible."
"Remove it?" Harry repeated faintly. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was carrying a living being inside of him – how was he supposed to be able to decide now what he was going to do with it?
"Yes, I understand that it isn't exactly expected," Neville replied and he rubbed the back of his head. "You could decide to terminate the pregnancy. In that case, you would need to take a potion and that would remove every trace of the baby and the womb. You won't be able to go to work for at least two days while your body adjusts back to its regular state, but aside from that, there won't be any side effects."
Harry wetted his lips. "Can I … Can I tell you my decision later?" he asked; his voice was so soft he wondered whether Neville had even heard him.
The man nodded gently. "Yes, take all the time you need."
"I don't want to be rude, but could you leave?" Harry asked, feeling quite numb.
Neville inclined his head. "Take care, Harry," he murmured and then the tell-tale sound of the fire roaring announced his departure.
Harry dropped his head against the back of the couch and stared at the cracked ceiling. He thought he would be panicking right now, but instead he only felt dazed and numb. As if it was happening to someone else and he was merely a bystander.
Only it was happening to him and he had no idea how he was supposed to deal with this. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to just have fun with the other guy – not having a reminder of their secret relationship.
He swallowed roughly and squeezed his eyes shut, while his breath left him in a shuddering exhale. He was in deep shit and this time there wasn't something like a prophecy to tell him what he needed to do.

Three days after Neville's visit, Harry was still cooped up in his house. He had informed his students that he would be absent for a week to deal with personal problems and fortunately they all had been very understanding. He felt restless, but he didn't want to go out for a jog. It wasn't like he didn't know the reason of his uneasiness, but finding a solution for it was a whole other matter.
How was he supposed to decide over something as life changing as keeping a baby? A baby that wasn't supposed to exist if his magic hadn't decided to screw him over.
Of course he had thought about having children; that was only normal after all, especially for someone who never really had a family. But when he had envisioned having children, he had imagined that either his wife would have them – back before he had discovered he was gay – or that he would adopt once it became clear which preference he had. Never had he even thought about the possibility of carrying his own child – and why would he? He knew magic was capable of doing a lot of extraordinary things – like bringing him back from the dead – but who would have thought that it was even capable of giving him a baby in this kind of manner?
His head shot up in surprise when the Floo spit out a very annoyed looking Hermione, who marched right over to him when she spotted him curled up on his couch. Ah yes, he had forgotten that tiny detail of informing his friends about Neville's visit. "Well, did Neville visit you?" Hermione asked without preamble, her hands placed on her hips.
"Shouldn't you be at work?" Harry deflected the question and placed his cold cup of tea on the table. He probably should feel bad for leaving his friends in the dark, especially because they were so concerned about him, but it had honestly slipped out of his mind. He figured no one could really blame him after having to digest the news he had received.
She made an impatient hand gesture, scowling at him with fierce eyes. "Took a long lunch break. Now, what did Neville say?"
"He figured out what was wrong with me," he murmured and stared at her blankly.
She looked a bit taken aback by his flat tone. "Harry, what did he say?" she asked, gently this time. The fierce look in her eyes died out, replaced with warm concern.
"You know, the Wizarding world should really create some information pamphlets, so that people coming from the Muggle world wouldn't be constantly surprised by the smallest things," Harry said and raked a hand through his hair.
She sunk down on the chair, furrowing her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Did you know that wizards can get pregnant?" he retorted.
Her lips became slightly pursed and she crossed her legs. "Well, I have read about it before," she admitted, pushing back a stray lock behind her ear. "I do have to admit that it's a fascinating part of the Wizarding world and it opens up a window of opportunities for gay wizards."
Harry stared mutely at her, willing her to use her brain and make the connection so that he wouldn't have to say it out loud. It was bad enough just thinking the word, but actually saying it out loud made it that much more terrifying.
She didn't disappoint him. As soon as she saw his blank face, her own eyes widened and she gasped softly. "Are you pregnant?" she squeaked out shocked.
Any other moment and he would have thought her squeaking to be incredibly funny as it wasn't something that she did often, but now all he could do was nod once silently, trying to will his heart to calm down. The last thing he needed besides an upset stomach was a heart intent on beating straight through his chest.
"Oh Harry."
The compassion in her voice made him cringe and he looked away, swallowing loudly.
"How did that happen?" she asked hesitatingly. "I mean, I obviously know how, but you know … Were you, eh, trying?"
He snorted harshly, glaring at the floor. "Of course not. I didn't even know men could get pregnant. Neville guessed it had something to do with the combination of my magic with his."
She nodded contemplatively. "Yes, I've read that spontaneous pregnancies can occur without outside help if the compatibility between the couple is strong." She bit her lip and her foot bobbed up and down nervously. "Did you tell him yet?"
She had no idea who the man was of course – all she and Ron knew was that Harry was seeing someone, but that it was complicated and he preferred to keep quiet about it. His friends didn't particularly like that, but they respected his wishes and they had backed off as soon as it became clear he wouldn't budge about this particular subject. "No, I haven't seen him yet," he replied curtly. It had been a week since they last were together and if he was right about the pattern, he could expect a visit of the other man soon.
For once he wasn't looking forward to seeing his lover.
"Do – do you know what you're going to do?" she asked, her voice almost inaudible.
Harry sighed loudly and gazed at her miserably. "I don't know, 'Mione. I don't know what I'm going to do," he muttered and rubbed briskly over his forehead. "It's not like getting pregnant was on my 'to do' list," he added darkly.
"How far …" she trailed off, obviously uncertain about how she would proceed best without making it more awkward.
"Around two months," he answered after a short moment of silence.
"That doesn't give you much time to …" she cut herself off, looking uncomfortable.
"To decide whether I keep it?" he finished her unspoken comment. "No, it doesn't." His voice carried a trace of bitterness.
He was so done with an outside source messing with his life. It didn't matter that it was his own magic this time that was to blame – couldn't he decide on at least one part of his life? Why had his magic decided to create this pregnancy now? He had been seeing him for almost a year already – a year of being secretive; of making certain that nobody saw them together in public; of sneaking heated kisses and searing touches; of filling the room with loud cries and moans and whispers of each other's names – so was there a reason why it had only happened two months ago? Had they done something out of the ordinary, which could have made their magic decide to create this?
Or was he merely trying to find a reason for his unusual situation? Maybe there just wasn't any specific reason. Maybe their magic had just decided that it was time to show their 'compatibility' and had gone through with it – despite their situation being far from ideal to raise a child.
"Well, do you have an idea as to what you're going to do?" Hermione inquired softly, leaning slightly forwards.
Harry shrugged, twisting his head around so that he could stare out of the window – which broadcasted a dreary scene of a dark grey sky releasing a torrent of rain – and avoid her heavy, meaningful look. "What do you think I've been thinking about these past two days?" he said bitterly, bringing his legs up on the couch, clasping his arms around his knees.
She released a soft sigh. "Maybe you should discuss this with him? I mean, he did help conceive it," she said meaningfully and there was a slight infliction to her voice that let Harry know that she could barely restrain herself from questioning who his mysterious lover was.
He snorted harshly and looked at her with a cynical smile. "He was there to conceive it, yes, but it's not like he has a real permanent place in my life."
The disapproving look he received in return for that particular titbit of information barely fazed him. He already knew that he was being stupid in letting the man inside his house, when he knew nothing more would come from it than a satisfying fuck. And if a part of him ached and longed for a real relationship with that man – well, that part was mostly ignored and couldn't do much damage. Harry understood his place in his lover's life; he had been given the chance to back off and instead of taking it, he had gone forwards, accepting any consequence that this tryst would bring. Heartache was just part of the deal; something he had to put up with in order to enjoy his time with his lover.
"I know you're not stupid, so you know that you're playing with fire," Hermione said softly. "I wish you had chosen someone else, but there has to be something special about this man that you put up with this."
Harry kept quiet.
"Regardless, you still need to inform him about the baby," she told him sternly and cut him off before he could protest, "Even if you're planning on aborting it, he needs to know. You can't keep this from him."
Harry clenched his jaw and his fingers tightened around his knees. He didn't even dare to imagine how that particular conversation would go; he suspected that part of the reason why his lover had chosen him, was probably because as a man, there was no chance of an accidental pregnancy. A bastard child would complicate everything and that would ruin both their lives.
Except that even as a man, an accidental pregnancy had happened. Was this perhaps the punishment the cosmos was dissing out, because he was essentially ruining a family? It didn't matter that the marriage was mostly born out of convenience; he had no right to hurt his lover's wife and son, merely because he couldn't keep his attraction – and love, but that was something he tried to ignore – to himself.
Silence descended on the two friends for a while; the only sound being the raindrops hitting the window and sliding down slowly until they pooled together on the windowsill.
Hermione rose up, making Harry look up in surprise. "My break is over," she explained with a slight grimace. She hesitated visibly and then crossed the small distance between them, bending down to hug him. "I'm not going to say you have to do this or do that, as it's your life and your decision, but just think about this carefully, all right? I know you have a children's wish, and that you had abandoned it – maybe this is some kind of sign," she whispered in his ear. She brushed a kiss against his temple. "Take care of yourself."
He nodded mutely and after throwing him a concerned look, she stepped into the fireplace, letting herself be whisked away by the green flames to her office in the Ministry.
Long after the flames had turned back to gold and bright red and white, he was still staring at the spot where Hermione had disappeared.
As always she had the impeccable ability to point out the one thing he was trying hard to ignore. She had done that during their school years and she had continued to do that when they started working. He almost regretted the moment that he had confided his children's wish in her; trust her to remember that particular titbit when they both had been plastered a couple of years ago.
Yes, he still wanted children. Yes, he may have – once or twice, when he was a bit tipsy and thinking too much about his lover – imagined how it would be like if he had a relationship in the open and they could raise children together. Everyone had those kinds of fantasies once in a while, right? Didn't have to mean anything in particular.
Now he was this close to getting what he wanted. He could have a child together with his lover, his own biological child, so there would be no hassle with adoption papers or any other documents. A child together was all he wanted and he could only have it partly. If he decided to keep the baby, there was a high chance that his lover would leave him or try to convince him to get rid of it. After all, the child would only be a burden to his lover; a bastard child that had to be kept hidden.
Would he be able to deal with it if the other man decided to leave him? Would he be able to take care of the baby on his own and not resent it for being the reason that his lover left him?
Money was no problem – with the combined vaults of his parents and his godfather and the steady income from his job as duel instructor, he was set for life. In fact, he probably wouldn't have to work at all if it wasn't for the fact that he despised lazing around.
So financially there would be no problems; he was perfectly capable of supporting the child with his own means.
Emotionally, it wouldn't be difficult to love his child; he had always longed to have a family of his own and their combined magic had provided him that.
But could he put his child through the pain of having an absent father? Or, on the off chance that the other man accepted the baby, would he be able to deal with the fact that his child would never know how a complete family felt? His lover wouldn't leave his family – and despite being frustrated by it and honestly hurt, Harry would never force him to choose (as a cowardly part in him was afraid of the choice his partner would make) – so the baby would grow up only able to see his other father occasionally.
Could he himself cope with the barrage of questions that would surely rise if he chose to keep it? Would he able to deal with the possible out lash that would occur when they figured out just who had fathered his child?
Could he accept living in the shadows for the rest of his life, subsequently forcing his child to go through the same heartache every time the man left them to return to his official family?
So many questions.
Yet the answers were difficult to find.

On Tuesday evening, he was doing the dishes, forcing himself to concentrate on the boring task instead of succumbing to the maelstrom of thoughts that were whirling around in his mind.
The tell-tale sound of the Floo barely registered in his mind; absorbed by the clatter of cutlery hitting the sink.
Harry almost screamed and jumped three feet in the air when a pair of strong arms wound themselves around his waist, pulling him back against a firm chest. Lips teasingly slid across the shell of his ear and his breathing quickened automatically; his hands clenched around the edge of the sink.
"Hm, did you miss me?" his lover whispered in his ear and he pressed his hips against Harry's arse.
"Draco," Harry breathed out, mortified at how quickly his body reacted towards the blond's presence.
Draco chuckled lowly, causing shivers to run over Harry's spine, and slender hands deftly twisted him around by his hips, so that he came face to face with his smirking lover.
"Don't I get a 'hello' kiss?" Draco teased, pursing his lips slightly.
Not able to resist the temptation, Harry reached up and pressed their mouths together; sighing when the familiar heat caused tingling nerves, their lips moulded together.
He had missed this; missed the heat rising up between them even when they shared an innocent kiss, missed the hands almost desperately grabbing his back, pushing him that much closer to Draco's body. Missed the comforting scent of almonds mixed with spicy cologne surrounding him like a cloak.
A hand dipped down to caress his arse and he groaned in the back of his throat when the hand mischievously squeezed and massaged his arse cheek through the rough texture of his jeans. A squeak was torn from him when a playful smack was delivered on his arse and before he could comprehend what had happened and how they had moved, he found himself flat on his back on the kitchen table; his legs spread wide open, giving his grinning lover the opportunity to crawl between his legs.
"I missed you, Harry," Draco purred and devious fingers slipped right underneath Harry's sweater, caressing his stomach briefly, before they roamed further and found his nipples. Thumbs brushed lightly over his nipples, causing them to harden in response and Harry bit his lip, determined not to show how much that simple caress was affecting him.
Draco threw him a challenging look and Harry gasped, arching his back when his nipples were roughly pinched, sending twin bolts of exquisite pain through his nerve system.
"That's right," Draco murmured and he bent down, forcing Harry back to the table, peppering his bare neck with searing hot kisses while hands roughly shoved his sweater up, displaying his stomach and chest. "I'm the only one who can make you feel like this," he growled and then nails suddenly ranked down Harry's chest, leaving thin, red lines behind which stung lightly.
The sting should have put him off, but instead it only fired him up even more, making his desire burn even brighter – if such a thing was possible. Whenever Harry thought that Draco couldn't make him long for him more, the man succeeded in magnifying his desire to such levels that Harry feared he would never be able to feel normal again.
He would gladly bid farewell to feeling normal again if it meant he could hold Draco in his arms for the rest of his life.
His collarbone being bitten made him hiss softly in response and as if they were living a life of their own, his hands were busying themselves divesting Draco from his clothes, touching every piece of naked flesh his fingers encountered.
He should put a stop to this; tell Draco that they needed to talk and that it was serious. That would be the responsible thing to do; the thing his friends expected of him.
But, he thought as his eyes rolled upwards in pleasure when Draco showed just how wicked his tongue could be, it won't hurt to just wait a bit longer.

In retrospect, having sex on the kitchen table was not exactly comfortable. The cold wood was unforgiving against his back and the edge of the table dug into his arse and his hands were scrambling across the table, trying to find purchase. Yet, he couldn't find it in him to stop and instead of pushing the blond away, he tightened his legs around Draco's waist, tugging him even closer, making it easier for his lover to hit the right spot inside of him.
The table creaked and shifted backwards with every harsh thrust Draco delivered and it made beautiful background noise to the mixture of groans and moans that were pouring out of their mouths – when they weren't busy discovering the inside of each other's mouth all over again.
This was just like the first time they had fucked: harsh, fast, stealing Harry's breath away until he was left gasping for air, overloading his senses until he wasn't certain what exactly he was feeling. Fingers skidded across sweaty skin, caressed and pinched, rubbed and touched, knowing where to touch and how to elicit certain responses. Inner muscles clenching around his lover, pulling, sucking him in, not ready to release him. Teeth nipped, bit in soft lips, created bruises and marks over heaving chests, trembling shoulders and tense necks. Tongues created burning, wet paths across heated skin. Mouths pressed against each other hard enough to bruise and still it wasn't enough.
Still they desired to be closer to each other, to feel each other, to bury themselves in each other until nothing would be able to pry them away.
It felt endless, their magic swirling around them wildly, making their hair flutter and their touches a tad more sensitive.
But everything had to end and their bodies begged for release and he felt ready to combust by the time the heat reached its peak and he was swept away by it; a primal yell that contained a garbled version of his lover's name torn from his open mouth, his stomach soaked.
Two heartbeats later and his lover joined him, grunting lowly; fingers digging deeply into his arse, while hips stuttered weakly against him, pumping until he felt heat soaking his insides.
Harry grunted when Draco slumped down on top of him, but his limbs trembled too much for him to push him away. His legs seemed to consist out of jelly, his whole body trembling heavily in the aftermath and he let out a shaky laugh, wondering seriously whether he would ever regain the feeling back in his arse and legs.
"Fuck," Draco muttered and he lifted his head, staring at Harry in wonder.
"That was … something," Harry agreed breathlessly and tried to temper his obnoxious loud panting. The sex was always amazing, but this really exceeded his expectations. "I can't feel my legs," he complained in a rough voice, his arms twitching lightly while the pleasure was still running through his veins.
"I accept that as a compliment," Draco laughed and gazed at him through half lidded eyes, amusement dancing in the depths of them.
"Bastard," Harry retorted, but there was no heat behind the insult.
Draco snorted and pushed himself up, removing his dead weight. "Let's go to the bedroom. The table is digging in my thighs," he sniffed and helped Harry up and off the table.
Harry stumbled a bit once his legs had to carry his weight again and hands quickly supported him by his elbows.
"It's good to know that I can …"
Harry threw him a threatening glare, poking him harshly in his chest. "Finish that sentence and you'll regret it."
Draco smirked, but kept his mouth shut and together they somehow managed to make their way upstairs without tripping or falling down. Once they reached the bed, Harry crawled between the sheets with a low groan, feeling his lower body protesting. Hot flashes of burning pain shot through his back every time he moved his legs for even a fraction and he realised to his mortification that unless he took a painkilling potion tomorrow, he would be walking quite bowlegged.
The last thing he needed was someone figuring out what he had been up to the previous day.
Draco slipped in the bed right next to him and fell down with a satisfied grunt. His otherwise immaculate blond hair was in complete disarray now, thanks to Harry's hands gripping it tightly just a moment ago. Faint teeth marks and red bruises littered his chest and back and Harry was both proud and embarrassed to have been the one to put them there. His own chest wasn't looking any better.
Fingers languidly caressed his side and hip and he looked down at bright grey eyes. A soft kiss was pressed against his arm.
"I missed you," Draco whispered against his wrist and Harry blinked and looked away when his eyes started stinging.
Moments like these hurt so much, because it showed him what he could never have. Oh, sure, Draco would stay with him for a few hours, even cuddle with him – though he would never take the word 'cuddle' in his mouth – but it was inevitable that he would free himself from Harry's embrace soon and would go back to his family, taking up his role as good husband and loving father. Leaving Harry behind in the cold bed and with an even colder heart.
What made it even worse was that he could clearly see how much Draco liked him. His eyes never lied.
Seeing the adoration and – dare he say it? – even something akin to love lurking inside those lovely silver grey eyes felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest and stomped on. Because no matter how much he felt that gaze on him, ultimately Draco didn't belong to him.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Draco asked and he rose up on his elbow, staring at Harry with a frown. "I can tell something is on your mind."
Harry let out a shaky laugh, desperately hoping that it didn't sound as hysterical as he thought it sounded. He brought his legs up underneath the heavy blankets and clenched his arms around them, trying to ignore how his limbs were shaking – and not from lingering pleasure this time.
"Tell me what's wrong." Draco's comment came out as a command and whether it was intended to be one or not, it did have the effect of capturing Harry's attention.
This was it then. There was no going back. After this, he would know whether he still had Draco at his side – or whether he would have to raise their child on his own.
His eyes closed – a feeble attempt to block out the outside world – and he said, "There is something I need to tell you." His throat was scratchy and dry – screaming Draco's name hadn't particularly helped him and his heart was doing summersaults in his chest.
He felt Draco shift next to him and he could easily imagine how his eyebrow would rise up slightly, his head cocked to the side, offering Harry his undivided attention.
Swallowing didn't work – it only created the feeling of needles pricking his throat – so he took a deep breath in a failed attempt to steady himself and said, "I've been feeling unwell for a while now and a couple of days ago, Neville examined me."
Draco tensed up next to him. "What did Longbottom discover?" he asked warily.
"He discovered that I'm … that I'm …" Harry bent his head and whispered, "That I'm pregnant." The words came out as a whisper, so soft that he wasn't too sure the blond man had heard him.
The room was quiet for a long time and the lack of motion next to him eventually convinced him to look up, just to make certain that Draco hadn't Apparated away without him realising it. Draco was still in his bed, but he seemed to resemble an ice statue. His body was completely immobile, his hand frozen in the air, while his eyes were as wide as saucers and his mouth had dropped open slightly. "Draco?" Harry said tentatively.
"You're serious. You're really pregnant?" Draco ground out, his hand dropping harshly on his thigh.
Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm two months far, give or take a few days," he replied.
Now that the truth was out there, he felt strangely calm, bereft of any panic and worry. What happened now was in Draco's hands and he couldn't do much about that, except hoping for a good outcome. Whether it was good or bad, Harry would deal with it. He had coped with worse things – he could do this as well. It would be difficult and hard, but after careful consideration and weighing off his options, there was just no way he could think of removing his baby.
The baby was there to stay – now it all depended on Draco whether their baby would know two fathers or just one.
"That's … unexpected," Draco croaked out; his pale skin becoming even paler to the point that Harry worried he would faint.
"Neville said that it was likely our combined magic that caused this to happen," Harry murmured and glanced away, feeling a bit embarrassed. "He said that our magic was compatible enough for this to happen."
"You're going to keep it." It wasn't a question, merely a statement coming from a man who knew Harry quite intimately by now.
Harry nodded and looked at the blond determined. "Yes, I've decided to keep the baby. I'm not going to force you to acknowledge it or take care of it. You can choose to stay out of the baby's life or not – that's all up to you. I just thought you deserved to know, because this is your child as well."
And that was how far his courage went. Now that he had told Draco everything he needed to say, the fear was creeping up again, trying to choke him with its long, spidery arms. This could very well be the last time he ever saw Draco again and he found himself lamenting the fact that he hadn't taken more time to touch him, just so that he could remember him when he left and imprint his presence in his mind.
"Like hell am I going to stay out of this baby's life," Draco suddenly spoke furiously and he gripped Harry's chin quite roughly, forcing the dark haired man to stare at him.
"What …"
"Did you seriously think I would abandon you and this baby? I thought you knew me better than that!" Draco snapped and despite his rude tone, his hands were gently when he caressed Harry's cheeks and brought their foreheads together.
"But your wife …" Harry started protesting weakly and could smack himself for bringing up that taboo subject.
Wasn't it enough that Draco wanted to stay in their lives? Why did he need to keep pushing him for more? He should learn to be happy with what he had, instead of wishing for things that would never happen and were entirely out of his reach.
"Tomorrow I'm going to tell her we're getting a divorce," Draco stated calmly as though the matter had already been decided.
"What?! But she … But your son …" Harry stammered overwhelmed, not certain which thought he should address first.
Draco let out an impatient sound. "The only thing I'll regret is the fact that I'll probably end up hurting Scorpius," he said soberly. "I don't want to hurt my son, but there is no way I can stay married to Astoria now."
A dreadful feeling rose up in his stomach. "I don't want you to ruin your marriage because of the baby. Like I said, I'm not going to keep you away from it; you can visit the baby whenever you want and …"
Draco cut off his nervous babbling with a harsh kiss, "You idiot. It's difficult to ruin something that never really existed," he spoke harshly.
"What?" Harry stared at him dumbfounded, completely lost as to what Draco was saying.
"I love you, you big idiot! I was already contemplating ending my marriage, but I wanted to talk about it with you first. This baby is just speeding up the progress a bit quicker," Draco replied, giving him a tender smile.
"You'll be mine completely? You promise?" Harry whispered in a broken voice and brought his arms around Draco's shoulders, the stinging behind his eyes growing worse.
"Silly," Draco spoke affectionately in his ear, returning the embrace. "I've been yours completely for a very long time."
The few teardrops that managed to escape were kissed away by a pair of cool lips and Harry kissed him back eagerly, joy blooming up in him like a flower opening in the summer sun.
He was pushed back gently, until he laid flat on his back with Draco hovering above him, mouthing endearments against his stomach before coming back up to press their lips together in a loving kiss.
A thought shot through his head while hands lovingly caressed his stomach: this would be a new beginning for the both of them.
No more secrets, no more hiding.
Just them together as it should have been from the beginning.
It took them a while, but now their lives could finally start for real.

AN2: And with this the mini series Of Endings and Beginnings is officially finished for now :) Thank you all for joining me on this short ride. I had a lot of fun writing this series :D
Currently I have a couple more ideas I'm working out for this series (one in Teddy's pov and one where Scorpius meets Teddy, among two other ideas I'm playing with), but I don't have a specific date for posting them yet. So while there will be a couple of more stories written for this universe, I can't say exactly when.
Please tell me what you thought about this oneshot!
Cuddles
Melissa
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A Wonky Start