Title: Allergies Are A Pain In The Bladder
Author: 
betelin_notecor
Team: Epilogue
Prompt: 21. A butterbeer a day keeps the mediwizard away.
Wordcount: ~8,250
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mpreg, crack.
Summary: Lucius always said not to drink butterbeer. "It isn't a fitting drink for a Malfoy!" Too bad all it took was some alcohol and a dash of Harry Potter for Draco to forget everything his father ever taught him. The consequences were stranger than Draco could have dreamed.
Author's Note: Thank you to snarkyscorp
Allergies Are A Pain In The Bladder
Twenty-five years ago, Harry had stood over Draco's body, watching in horror as Draco's blood spread across the floor of a bathroom. Now, Harry stood over his body again, but this time there was no blood and they were in a pub instead of a bathroom. And there were lots and lots of giggles.
"You're drunk, Draco." Harry chuckled loudly and then pointed down at him. "You've got firewhisky on your shirt."
Draco glared up at Harry from the floor. "My shirt might be dirty, but, but... you're a dirty Sectumsempraer!"
Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. And then he blinked again. "What's a Sectumsempraer?"
Draco rolled his eyes and clambered up from the floor to plop down next to Harry in one of the pub's booths. He wasn't sure how he had gotten onto the floor, but he thought being upright was a lot nicer. "A Sectumsempraer is someone who casts Sectumsempra. Obviously."
"Oh." Harry blinked at him again, his eyes big and owlish behind those stupid glasses. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to do it back then. I really didn't. If I did it now, I'd mean it, but I didn't know what it did back then, and I didn't want to hurt you, but I—"
"Hush, Potter." Draco nodded when Harry immediately shut up. "I don't mind, really. See, when you sliced me open, Snape did what he could to heal me, but he couldn't save my chin, so now I've got a very manly scar. It was my scar that won me Astoria, you know. She's says it's extremely manly."
Harry quirked his head to the side. "You're happy because I gave you a scar?"
"Of course! The scar has been nothing but good for me. Astoria says scars make men very attractive to women." Draco settled back into the seat and crossed his arms, pleased to have made his point.
Harry leaned forward, getting far too close to Draco to be polite. Draco forgave him though. The idiot had the social skills of a dog, which was to say that he didn't understand personal space, not that he humped anything in sight. Although, Draco wouldn't have minded if Harry humped whatever was in sight, especially when the current focus of Harry's near-sighted gaze was Draco himself.
Harry's hand suddenly came into view in Draco's peripheral vision, startling him. Harry made a low noise of distress and ran his hand along Draco's cheek down to his chin, where it traced back and forth over the small scar.
"I think..." Harry trailed of, his fingers still stroking the scar.
"You think? Imagine that!" Draco said shakily. It was a bit juvenile to hide behind stupid insults, but Draco was desperate. His hidden attraction for Harry was not going to be hidden much longer if Harry kept touching him like that.
Harry just rolled his eyes. "As I was saying... I think that scars make blokes attractive to other blokes, as well as women."
With a satisfied smile, Harry withdrew from Draco's personal space. Draco wanted to smack him. "Cock-tease," he muttered.
"Huh?" Harry asked.
Draco sighed. "I just said, 'Drink, please.'"
Harry looked at the empty glasses of firewhisky on their table and then back to Draco. After a moment, he brightened up. "Oh! I'll go get us something to drink then!"
Harry scooted out of the booth, climbing all over Draco to do it, and headed for the bar. Draco watched him go, wondering what god allowed the injustice that was an arse that hot on a man that straight. He watched Harry's butt wiggle as he stood at the bar talking to the bartender. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle... oh! Clench! Yum! Wiggle, wiggle, turn. Merlin! What a bulge!
Draco pulled his eyes away from Harry's crotch as he began walking back to the table. For some reason, straight men didn't seem to appreciate being ogled. Draco didn't understand it. If a man was going to wear jeans that tight, surely he wanted people to look!
Harry set the drinks he'd retrieved down on the table. "This was all the bartender would give me—said we were too drunk for anything else." Then he clambered back over Draco.
"I could have scooted in." Draco jabbed Harry in the side with his elbow, and Harry yelped. He deserved the pain, Draco thought. Draco had a hard-on now, and it was all Harry's bum's fault.
Harry fumbled as he grabbed his drink, sloshing a bit over the side. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."
Draco sighed as dramatically as he could. "Obviously."
Harry nodded and smiled. "Yep, obviously."
Frowning, Draco grabbed his drink, which looked like an ale, off the table. What would it take to upset Harry? He hid his frustration by taking a long drink of the beer, which was delightfully sweet and smooth. Draco could hardly taste the alcohol in it.
"We did a good job today," Harry blurted.
Draco took another swig of his beer and grinned. "I hadn't thought it possible when we went on our first mission three years ago, but we actually make a pretty good team." Minister Shacklebolt's idea to match up Aurors with Unspeakables on investigative cases had worked out well. "We're as good as any of those CSE people the Muggles put on the telly."
Harry bumped Draco's arm. "It's CSI." He rolled his eyes and leaned farther into Draco's personal space. "I need to take you out into Muggle society more often. You are culturally illiterate."
Draco's eyebrows rose into his hairline. "How can you come up with the phrase 'culturally illiterate' when you're drunk? In fact, how the hell do you even know what 'culturally illiterate' means?"
"I'm not stupid," Harry grumbled.
Draco leaned his head to the side and bumped it into Harry's. "Granger taught it to you, didn't she?"
"Yes."
The word came out petulantly, amusing Draco. He turned his head to the right and caught Harry in the middle of a pout. His bottom lip was wet and plump, and Draco wanted nothing more than to kiss it.
So he did.
"Mmm, Draco, you taste like butterbeer," Harry mumbled against his lips.
It wasn't a negative comment, so Draco deepened the kiss, pulling one of Harry's lips between his own and biting it gently. All that came out of his mouth then were moans.
They didn't stop kissing until the bartender (a big, burly bloke) slammed an empty mug on the table in front of them. Harry sprang away at the loud noise, leaving Draco to blink blearily up at him.
"You already booked a room upstairs," the brawny bartender said.
Draco remembered that. He'd known he and Harry were going to get smashed tonight, in celebration of their recent success, and he'd made sure to get himself a room so he wouldn't try to Apparate drunk.
He must have sat blinking at the bloke for a while because the bartender abruptly threw up his hands and cried, "So, go use it! You're disturbing my other customers!"
What an excellent idea!
"Come on, Harry. Let's go to our room." Harry followed him obediently out of the booth and towards the stairs. For some reason, Draco thought that Harry might not appreciate waking up in the pub the next morning instead of at Harry's house, but the thought quickly fled his mind when he shut the door of the room behind them and Harry jumped on him.
Draco stared at his mirror in horror. "I'm fat."
His mirror, which he had bought because it always said nice, motherly comments about him, tsked and tutted. "You've got barely a swell around your midsection. And your arms and legs are far too thin. You look like a stick. A little meat on those bones will do you good."
Draco tried to sneer at her and instead had to wheel around and vomit in the toilet.
"This is the sixth morning in a row that you've thrown up, love. Are you feeling well? I think you should go to the Healers for a check-up."
The mirror continued to natter on as Draco lost the small amount of tea and scones he'd had for breakfast. Her strident voice made his head throb, and at last, he threw a silencing spell at her. He'd pay for it when he unsilenced her and she spent days sulking or throwing insults at him, but he needed some peace and quiet for once.
Thinking back, he realized that the mirror was correct. This was the sixth day in a row that he'd thrown up. Yet, he had a gut. Draco Malfoy had never had a gut before. Malfoys didn't do guts. He'd been eating much less due to this stomach bug, and he was still gaining weight.
How was this possible?
Draco looked down at his shirt and cringed when he saw vomit stains. Lovely. He stripped it off and tossed it on the floor. One of the house elves would pick it up.
He wandered back into his bedroom and over to his closet. Thankfully, it had just been an undershirt and not anything important. He grabbed another undershirt and his favourite fitted polo. Draco called that particular polo preppy; Astoria called it gay. Either way, the pink shirt looked fabulous on him.
He pulled on his undershirt, grimacing as it scraped over his nipples. They were extra tender today, and he didn't understand why. He hadn't used clamps in months... he rarely had bed partners and he hadn't needed any toys to get himself off in the past two months. Just the memory of his one night with Harry, blurry and disjointed though it was, had kept him coming for weeks.
He tugged on the pink polo and then went to style his hair in the bathroom mirror. Upon glancing into it, Draco burst into tears. "I look so ugly! I'm fat!"
Normally he wouldn't be so upset by the fact that he'd gained what looked like twenty pounds, but for some reason, he couldn't stop the tears from coming. He sat down on the toilet and wept for twenty minutes.
Astoria walked in on him just as the tears were tapering off. She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder and then smacked him on the head. "Hush, dear. Your tears are scaring the house elves. It's time to head to France for our weekly dinner with your parents."
Draco glared up at her with watery eyes. "I'm not going. I'm huge and fat and ugly. I don't want anyone to see me like this."
Rolling her eyes, Astoria grabbed his hand and pulled him off the toilet. "You've got a bit of a gut. It's not that big of a deal. You can probably lose it in a few weeks."
"You think I'm fat! You don't find me attractive do you? My own wife thinks I'm ugly," Draco cried. He wanted to go crawl into bed and eat pickles, ice cream, and anchovies to soothe his pain. It had always been his favourite comfort food, after all, ever since one of his mother's house elves had seen fit to serve it to him when he was six. It had rather surprised him really... he'd always thought the elf hated him and would rather feed him dirt than something as delicious as pickles, ice cream, and anchovies.
What had he been thinking about? Oh, yes, the fact that he was FAT and UGLY. He burst into tears once more.
Astoria didn't seem to care. She touched her wand to his hair to straighten it, his eyes to take away the red, puffy look, and his shirt to dry up the tears that had fallen onto it. "You look lovely now, Draco, but I'm afraid you are right. I don't find you attractive and haven't since our wedding day. You know my tastes run a little... younger and straighter."
Draco laughed, her words brightening his spirit. "Sorry, love. I lost my mind for a minute. What was I thinking?"
"I haven't the slightest," she answered. "Now get your bum moving. Your parents were expecting us ten minutes ago." She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the fireplace, tossing in some Floo powder and pulling him in along with her. They whirled through the Floo, the sensation of spinning making Draco's stomach heave.
When they were finally spit out at his parent's French manor house, Draco fell to his knees, hands clutching his stomach as he dry heaved. Astoria grimaced and looked away—she'd never had a stomach for being around sick people and Draco had tended Scorpius during all of his illnesses—as did his mother, who was in the room with his father, awaiting their arrival.
Lucius, on the other hand, rushed to Draco's side and began petting his hair. Draco leaned into the touch. His father had always been so wonderfully maternal in private. Draco missed the cosseting he'd had as a child.
"Draco, love, are you all right? You look dreadful," Lucius said softly when Draco had finally ceased retching.
Draco began to sob yet again.
"Oh, no. Now I'll never get him to stop," Astoria muttered.
Draco's sobs grew louder. He couldn't seem to stop the tears from coming. "I'm fat and ugly and I can't stop vomiting!" he whined. The words sounded almost incomprehensible to him, but Lucius seemed to understand anyway.
"My poor baby. You aren't ugly! Have you been to a Healer yet? It isn't serious, is it?" Lucius helped him stand. There was no mess to clean up, as Draco's stomach had been empty, so he just ushered him into the parlour and tucked him into the sofa with a warm afghan and some mild tea. "What symptoms have you had?" Narcissa and Astoria trailed in behind them. Lucius looked at Draco for a minute before whispering something into Narcissa's ear. With a nod, she led Astoria back out of the room.
Draco tried to think back over all the ways his body had been acting up over the past few weeks. "I throw up every day, sometimes in the morning, but usually at lunch time. I've still gained weight though, and I've actually got a gut!" He snivelled for a second. "Plus, my nipples are bloody sore and I need to pee every ten minutes."
Lucius blanched. "Draco. I know you are gay." And how could he not? Even Draco knew he was a flaming queen at times. "Please tell me you haven't had any butterbeer recently."
Draco frowned at him. "Of course not! You always taught me that 'A butterbeer a day keeps the mediwizard away' was a plebeian sentiment that Malfoys do not ascribe to."
Sagging against the sofa next to Draco, Lucius regained his normal pale colour. Draco was glad. When Malfoys blanched, they tended to look a bit like a marble statue—pretty, but far too cold and untouchable, and Draco liked being touched. Oh, how he liked being touched. Especially when the people touching him were handsome men.
Lucius reached out and grasped Draco's knee. "I had to be certain. I should have told you this before but... Malfoys tend to have a negative reaction to butterbeer. It was easier to just tell you not to drink it when you were younger than it was to explain the reason why you shouldn't drink it."
"Oh? What kind of reaction do we have?" Draco asked.
Lucius took a deep breath. "Draco... I am your mother."
Draco stared at him. "Father... I think it is safe to say that you are my father."
"No. I am your mother." Lucius face was serious—so very serious that Draco knew he was telling the truth. "When Malfoy men drink butterbeer, we have a serious reaction to the combination of ingredients. It acts like a potion on us, giving us the ability to get pregnant if we copulate with another man within twenty-four hours."
It was Draco's turn to blanch. "Then. You drank butterbeer?"
Lucius nodded.
"And you had sex. With a man."
"Yes."
Draco blinked rapidly, trying to process the information. "Who?" he asked before his brain had finished catching up with the conversation.
"Your father was Severus Snape."
Draco felt his eyes widen. "You slept with Professor Snape?" he screeched.
Lucius frowned at him. "That is not a proper tone of voice for a Malfoy."
Calming himself slightly, Draco asked politely, "Did you really sleep with Professor Snape, Father?" He tried to imagine his father with the bitter, dark man who'd once taught him, back before his throat had been ripped out by a snake, but he couldn't.
Lucius patted him on the shoulder. "I did. We were very close right after he finished school."
Draco's brain began to churn again. "But... but... you'd already married Mother by then!"
"True. Luckily, Narcissa was very understanding of our relationship. I think it was because she enjoyed watching." Lucius stated all of that guilelessly, as if he was completely comfortable discussing his sex life with his son.
Draco did not want to know anything else about his parents and Snape. Nothing. It was too disturbing to think about. Snape would forever be a professor to him, never a father and never, ever a sexual being. "If you were my... mother, then where did Mother come in? And why don't I have any of Snape's genes?"
Narcissa chose that moment to stroll in, Astoria following her and giggling. "I took the liberty of explaining to your wife what Lucius has just told you."
Astoria flopped down on the sofa and slung an arm across his shoulders. "I never imagined this family would be so entertaining when we first got married! Between you having to use an in vitro spell to get me pregnant and your father carrying a baby, I must say that inbreeding has really screwed up the Malfoy reproductive systems."
Narcissa settled herself lightly onto a settee. "No, the Malfoys don't have reproductive problems. They are simply all gay. None of them have been able to get it up for a woman in centuries. That's the reason their bodies morphed to carry children and why they invented that in vitro spell." She smirked. "I'm glad you're happy in the family though. It takes a special woman to marry a gay man."
Draco scoffed. "No, it doesn't. It just takes a fag hag," he muttered under his breath. Astoria kicked him.
"Anyway, darling, I was quite pleased when your father turned up pregnant. The Blacks are indeed inbred, I'm afraid, and I've always been barren as a result of my gene pool. I have all the reproductive problems, Bella got the insanity, and Andy... well, she had a child who changes shape. It's obvious our genes are a bit messed up." She sighed and ran a finger under one eye, as if wiping away a tear. Draco knew it was just for show. She'd never smudge her mascara by crying. "I've always wanted a child though, and I've loved you from the bottom of my heart ever since you were pulled from your father's sliced open stomach, bloody and screaming."
Draco felt his stomach churn again. "Thank you for the lovely visual. Really."
Narcissa smiled. "Of course. And it was easy to strip away the outward signs of Severus's genes with a simple potion... though you'll be glad to know he manipulated it so that you got some of his more... manly features." Her smile widened. "He had such a large nose, and it translated to the rest of his body as well."
Lucius blushed, apparently remembering some of those features. He coughed and the blush receded slightly. "Anyway, I'm glad that I could finally tell you. It was amazing to carry you inside of me, and I've always wanted to share that bond with you." He poked Draco in the stomach. "And also to make sure you know why you must avoid butterbeer at all costs. I didn't realize what would happen when I drank it, and while I wouldn't give you up for the world, I will say that delivering a baby is every bit as painful as women make it out to be." Pausing, he poked Draco's belly again. "You've put on a bit of fat. Have you been exercising? You know Malfoys don't have guts."
Merlin, did everyone think Draco was fat? He was ugly. He knew it. The mirror had lied to him. Draco burst into tears and buried his face in Astoria's chest. "My father thinks I'm fat and ugly!" he wailed. He tried to stop the tears from coming, but couldn't, even though he knew that Malfoys didn't make scenes.
Lucius patted him awkwardly on the back. "I don't, really! I just think you've put on some weight."
Draco's sobs strengthened.
Narcissa snorted from across the room. "You are utterly hopeless, Lucius. You may have been his mother, but you have no maternal instinct. Besides, it's obviously just a mood swing. He'll calm in a minute."
Lucius's hand stilled on Draco's back. "He said he hasn't had any butterbeer."
"That's not what my pregnancy test said," Narcissa replied.
Draco's tears stopped abruptly. "What?"
Narcissa pulled out her wand and swiped it in front of her. The tip glowed faintly red. "You're about two months along, I'd say. When did you have butterbeer last?"
Astoria and Lucius sat gaping at her while Draco tried to think. "I've never had any..." he said at last.
Suddenly a memory of a single night two months ago flooded his mind. Harry had brought back beers from the bar. He hadn't told Draco what kind it was, but it hadn't tasted like anything he'd ever had before. And when they'd kissed, Harry had said Draco tasted like butterbeer.
"Potter got me pregnant!" he shouted, furious. The bastard had got him up the duff with a bastard, and then the bastard hadn't talked to him since that night. What a total, total bastard! And Draco wasn't sure he understood what bastard meant anymore. He might have thought it just one too many times.
Then he realized what he had said aloud and glanced around the room. Nobody looked too shocked.
"Aren't you all wondering why I drank butterbeer and slept with Potter?" he asked.
Astoria shrugged. "You've had a hard-on for Potter since I was sorted into Slytherin. I expected it."
Narcissa laughed. "He's had a hard-on for Potter since he could get hard-ons. I expected it."
Lucius patted him on the head. "We all expected it. You'd do anything Potter asked you to do."
Draco jumped to his feet. "I would not!" They just looked at him. "Fine. I would." He slumped back onto the sofa. Harry hadn't talked to him in two months. He wouldn't care about a baby. In fact, he'd probably resent it for destroying his perfect life with his perfect wife and children. "I'm not telling him about this though."
He waited for them to tell him he was being stupid. It didn't happen.
"It's your prerogative," Lucius said. "You can always pass the baby off as Astoria's." Narcissa and Astoria nodded.
"It's fine with me, as long as I don't have to go through labour again." Astoria grimaced. "I love Scorpius, but sometimes I wonder if having children is really worth that pain."
Narcissa crossed her legs and leaned back on the settee. "You owe Potter nothing. The baby is yours. Do what you will—but keep legal records so that you can sue for child support if you ever need it."
Draco grinned. He loved living in a family of Slytherins. "Perfect." He wouldn't contact Harry. Not ever.
He hugged Astoria happily and settled back for a normal talk with his family about which corporations they should stage takeovers of next. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about the pregnancy yet, and he put a hand on his stomach, wishing he could feel the baby moving inside of him. It just seemed right, somehow, that he was pregnant.
He supposed he could have ended the pregnancy, but he didn't want to. The baby was something special, a memento of a night he would never forget. He'd always liked Harry, from the moment they met in the clothing shop, and that would probably never change, even if Harry never spoke to him again.
Feeling stupid and soppy and more than a little heartbroken, Draco put thoughts of Harry out of his mind. His hand lingered on his stomach though, strengthening his connection to the small life inside of him.
It hurt more than a little bit that the first time Harry spoke to him after they had sex was when Minister Shacklebolt called them both into his office to assign them another investigative case that he didn't think Harry and his Aurors could handle alone.
Draco had been hiding his bulging tummy for four months at that point. He was absolutely huge. If it weren't for a variety of spells that Draco had created while working as an Unspeakable, under the guise of their potential usage by women who needed to hide their pregnancies for safety reasons, he would be waddling. Instead, he managed to stand up straight, stomach as flat as it had been seven months ago before the pregnancy, and talk to Shacklebolt and Harry casually.
Inside, his stomach was churning, the baby was kicking his bladder, and his back hurt like hell. A foot jabbed him in the stomach and bladder at the same time as a hand punched him in the ribs. Instead of doubling over in pain, he let himself glare at Harry ever so slightly. It was his fault that Draco couldn't sleep through the night because he had to pee every hour. It was his fault that Draco was still suffering from occasional morning sickness, even though he was in his third trimester.
It was his fault that Draco still dreamed of that night and wished he could have just one more night, even if it meant not talking to Harry for another seven months.
It was his fault that Draco sounded like a whiny girl. Ick.
"We know where Dolohov is hiding. What I need from you two is manpower and ingenuity to get him out of there." Shacklebolt swished his wand, transfiguring a paperweight into a globe. He pointed his wand at Midwestern America. "For some reason Dolohov has become an exotic dancer in Las Vegas. He's currently headlining in a club there, and I need you to go capture him."
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. We'll be happy to do it."
Shacklebolt shrunk the globe back to a paperweight. "Good. We've already arranged for you two to take on the role of a gay couple." His look turned a bit piercing and Draco looked away. If only it were true.
"I'll give you two hours to prepare, and then we'll ship you over by international Portkey." Shacklebolt handed the briefing folder to Harry. "Good luck."
Draco snatched the folder from Harry's hands and stomped out of the room. Oh, he was going to need more than luck to get through this. He was going to need lots and lots of alcohol—which he couldn't have because he was pregnant. Damn.
The mission was going to be painful.
It wasn't painful at all. It was delightfully pleasant really.
The club was rundown and dirty, the floor sticky with spilled drinks and what had the potential to be bodily fluids. Draco was positive half the men and women in the club were tossing off under the table, and the person who had been sitting at the table before him had spit all over the floor.
Nevertheless, Draco was having the time of his life. Cleanliness was obviously not next to godliness in Las Vegas because there were a number of gods on the stage directly in front of Draco.
Wiping the drool from his mouth, Draco pulled out his wallet and scowled. He hadn't had a chance to change his money to Muggle currency and couldn't pay for the lap dance he'd been craving for the past half hour.
Before he could put his wallet away, Harry reached over and snatched it. "What do you think you are doing?!" His wide eyes and shocked tone told Draco he was completely scandalized.
Draco scowled back at him and snatched the wallet back. "I wanted to pay for a lap dance, but I haven't any money." A thought occurred to him. "Would you trade me some Muggle money for a few Galleons?"
Harry's jaw fell open. His chair scraped across the floor as he stood abruptly. "You... you... you!" Spinning around, Harry stomped to the bar.
The baby chose then to kick, and Draco had to fight back tears. He wasn't sure if they were from the pain or from Harry's disapproving gaze. He was a man. He had needs. His hormones had lots and lots of needs, and it wasn't like he was getting any from Astoria. Draco hadn't done anything wrong, regardless of what Harry seemed to think.
He picked up his water, spelled to look like a martini, and took a big swallow. It didn't do much for drowning his sorrows, but he did manage to choke on it and start hacking like an idiot. It took him a moment to calm himself, and then he surreptitiously glanced around the club. Good. No one seemed to have noticed him. He wouldn't have to Obliviate anyone.
Harry returned then, his gaze solidly fixed on his feet. Draco was surprised Harry managed to even seat himself. Harry was completely out of it.
Not that Draco cared. He didn't care at all. He only leaned over and poked Harry to make sure he wasn't Imperiused—not because he was worried. And he wasn't at all upset when Harry looked up at him with wounded eyes. His heart did not twinge and he did not want to wrap Harry up in a hug. Draco did not care, damn it!
"You could have asked me," Harry said softly, holding Draco's gaze only long enough to deliver his sentence.
Draco reached out and grabbed Harry's sleeve to pull him closer. "What are you on about?" he asked. Of all the times for Harry to be confusing—Draco was already confused enough by his own thoughts. He didn't need Harry complicating things.
Harry tugged his sleeve away from Draco. Instead of moving away, he grasped Draco's hand, entwining their fingers. He stared at the joined hands. "You could have asked me for a lap dance. I'd... I'd do it for free. You wouldn't have to waste your money."
Draco stared at their hands too. He wasn't sure if the pain in his chest was from the baby kicking or his heart breaking. At that moment, he wasn't sure of anything. "I thought you didn't want me," Draco whispered.
Harry shook his head vehemently and tightened his grip on Draco's hand. "I want you so bad. You didn't Floo or Owl afterwards though..."
Draco took a deep shuddering breath, the baby jumping for joy in his stomach. Draco wished he could jump around too. "You were supposed to Floo or Owl. I was the bottom. The girl. You were the bloke, so you should have contacted me."
Harry looked up at his face. "Does it really work that way?"
Draco scowled. It had made perfect sense in his head. Spoken aloud... "Well, maybe not." Why hadn't he contacted Harry? Draco could write a letter just as easily as Harry.
"We've been idiots." Harry placed a kiss on the back of Draco's hand.
Draco blushed and looked away. Stiffening, he spun back to Harry. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the image he had just seen from his eyes. Sadly, a picture of the burly Dolohov in a caveman costume seemed to be burned into his retinas. "He's here," Draco said, unnecessarily as Harry looked over and turned a bit green.
"That's awful." Harry shook his head.
Draco laughed. "The image just doesn't go away, does it?"
Harry shook his head harder, screwing his eyes shut. "No. Ugh. Ew. Oh, yuck."
Draco stood, struggling only slightly. The spells he had created lessened the weight of his stomach, but they couldn't get rid of it completely. He'd probably end up getting stuck every time he sat down by the end of the nine months.
Harry stood, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist. As Harry's hand brushed Draco's stomach, Draco had a moment of panic. What would Harry think about the baby? If they were going to be... together now, Draco couldn't keep it a secret.
"Let's go," Harry murmured, pointing to one side of the stage. There was a door that Draco had seen a dancer come out of after his performance.
Draco nodded and cast the Unspeakable spell that would render them invisible, inaudible, and intangible to everyone but each other. It was that spell that had gotten him assigned to the mission. His part was technically done. It was up to Harry to capture Dolohov—not that Draco actually cared about mission etiquette. If he and Harry said that Harry had captured Dolohov, who was to say anything different. They headed to the door together, ducking inside as a girl walked out.
Dolohov, as the headlining act, had a dressing room to himself. They opened the door and Draco wrinkled his nose. "Well, they obviously like Dolohov. Look at this fabulous dressing room!" He dropped the sarcasm. "It's hardly bigger than a cupboard." Harry and Draco would have barely enough room to turn around if they both entered it.
Harry looked around, a bit wistfully Draco thought. "I wish all cupboards were this big."
Draco sighed and patted Harry on the head. He'd have to get used to his boyfriend's oddities, he supposed. "We'll have to ambush him from outside." He moved to one side of the door and motioned for Harry to stand on the other.
They didn't have to wait long. A sudden roar of cheers made it obvious that Dolohov was nearing the end of his act. Draco shuddered, thinking of how little clothing the man would be wearing when they captured him. Jumping nearly naked men had always excited him, but the thought of jumping Dolohov made his prick shrivel.
When Dolohov finally made his appearance back stage, he was wearing a furry g-string. As Dolohov walked, he groping around the small triangle of fabric, pulling out crinkled and wet bills. Draco's stomach went a little queasy at the sight and Harry shuddered visibly.
Harry began rummaging around in his pocket for the Portkey and Draco sighed. "You should have had that ready!" Dolohov glanced over in their direction and then away. He began fumbling in his g-string again, and Draco stopped looking.
Harry glared at him. "I'm sorry I was too busy being in love to get prepared." Neither of them bothered to whisper; Dolohov wouldn't be able to hear them through the spell.
That was why the spell was such a surprise. The stunner hit Draco right in the stomach, and he doubled over in shock. Dolohov was standing in front of Draco, smirking, and he had a wand in his hand.
"Draco!" Harry knelt at Draco's side, yanking his wand from his pocket. "Don't move, Dolohov. How can you see us?"
Draco was surprised when he was able to pick himself up off the ground. Harry stood with him, keeping his wand trained on the Death Eater. It had sounded and felt as if Dolohov had cast the spell correctly. Maybe he was low on power and hadn't been able to keep Draco under the spell.
Draco brought out his wand as well, letting it slip down his sleeve and into his hand. He kept it tucked away just enough so that Dolohov wouldn't see it.
Dolohov smirked. "I can see everything—" His left eye began to rotate in its socket "—thanks to a gift from the dearly departed Mad-Eye."
Harry's hand trembled slightly, the wand tip dropping down a few centimetres. "I buried that in his grave with him after I stole it back from Umbridge."
Dolohov rolled both his eyes then. "It wasn't a big deal to pull an eye out of corpse; I did it the first time after Umbridge killed him. Besides, it's not like he needs it now. It's a perfect replacement for the one I lost from Flitwick's spell." His smirk widened. "It has some great features too. For instance, I can see the wand in your hand and the babies in your belly, Malfoy. They aren't moving right now, of course. Wonder if your whorish father knows you got knocked up just like him."
Draco's wand shot into his hand and he swished and flicked it faster than he ever had before. "Don't talk about my family like that!" Dolohov was wrapped in bindings before he could even sneer, his wand in Draco's hand the next instant.
Harry stared. "Draco? What was he talking about?"
Keeping his wand focused on Dolohov, Draco raised his other hand to his belly and released the spells he had crafted. His waistline expanded, pushing his hand outwards. Harry gasped. "Malfoy men can carry children." He wanted to see how Harry was reacting, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Dolohov. Plus, he was starting to worry. He hadn't felt the baby kick since Dolohov tried to stun him. "I'm pregnant."
Harry moved closer, pressing one hand to Draco's stomach. Still, the baby didn't move. "How far along?"
Draco took a deep breath. "Seven months."
Draco could tell when the information clicked in Harry's head. He was enveloped in a huge hug. "It's mine?"
"Yes, you idiot. You are the only person who would bring me a butterbeer, after all. Everyone else remembers when I tell them I refuse to drink it. And you are also the only idiot who would take your eyes off the person we are supposed to be capturing." Draco felt his voice tremble. His knees were starting to shake. The adrenaline was wearing off. "Portkey him already!"
Harry pulled away and advanced on Dolohov, finding the Portkey easily. He pushed the handkerchief into Dolohov's mouth and murmured, "Moldy Voldie." Dolohov's glare whisked away with the rest of him, straight to a detention cell in Azkaban.
Draco collapsed. Harry was at his side in an instant. "What's wrong?"
Fumbling for Harry's hand, Draco pressed it to his stomach. "I can't feel the baby." His voice rose in panic. "I can't feel the baby!"
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. "The baby will be fine. Just hold on. I'll Portkey us to the Ministry and Apparate straight to St. Mungo's. Beam me up."
The Portkeys in Harry's watch and Draco's bracelet activated. The swirling feeling of international Portkeying was too much for Draco. He blacked out.
Draco awoke to a darkened room. His hands flew to his stomach immediately. It was flat. The baby was gone. He let out a sob, curling into a ball around his stomach.
He hadn't even started coming up with names for the baby. Malfoys never learned the gender of their children before birth. It was a family tradition. He had thought he'd have plenty of time to find the baby a name when it was born. Now he'd never give birth to it. Draco laid in the dark and sobbed. It wasn't very Malfoy-like behaviour, but he could care less.
The door cracked open and Harry slipped inside. "Hey. How are you?"
Draco sobbed harder. "It didn't have a name. I never got to say hello!"
"The baby? Oh, Draco. I'm so sorry I left you here to wake up alone. You must have been so upset to think they died. I just wanted to check on them... but I should have called someone." Harry climbed onto the bed and laid down next to him. "The babies are fine. They're in the nursery because they were so premature, but the Healer said they should probably be able to go home in a month. The stunner didn't hurt them, but they had to be delivered so it could be removed."
Draco grabbed his hand and clung to it. "Babies? I... I though there was only one."
"Dolohov said it when he looked at you with the eye. He said, 'the babies in your belly.' He was right. We had twins, a boy and a girl." He chuckled into Draco's shoulder. "I'm surprised you didn't know. Your family Healer said you had refused to know anything besides whether the baby was healthy, so he didn't tell you. You should have been able to feel all the extra movement though."
Draco sucked in a breath. "So when I felt like I was being pummelled in six places at once..."
"...it was both of them moving together." Harry pressed a kiss onto Draco's cheek. "You should see them. He's a little strawberry blond sweetheart, and she's bald as a Bludger. They're perfect."
Draco sat up. His stomach felt tight, but there wasn't any pain. "I want to go now."
Harry nodded and they both crawled out of the bed. "The doctor said to be careful moving. You should heal completely in a few days, but they had to operate to take them out and it got rather messy."
Draco pressed his hand to his stomach and started walking faster. He felt a bit lonely without the babies. Harry sped up to keep pace with Draco, and he caught Draco's hand in his.
They rounded the corner near the nursery and Draco came to a complete halt. It seemed as though every Weasley, Potter, and Malfoy relation was standing in the hallway. "Why are you all here?" he asked.
His father smiled. "Harry called and told us about the babies. We came immediately. Astoria stopped by the school and picked up all the kids, and everyone else was here when we arrived."
Draco spotted Scorpius in the crowd and grabbed him, pulling him into a hug. Scorpius squirmed out of it. "Dad!" he whined. "That's not proper Malfoy etiquette!"
Draco laughed. Sometimes he thought Scorpius spent a bit too much time around Lucius. At sixteen, he was practically Lucius's clone. "I'm glad you're here. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner."
Scorpius shrugged. "Not a big deal." He glanced around. Everyone was watching them. Sighing, he leaned in and whispered in Draco's ear, "Since there are more Malfoy heirs, this means I don't have to marry a girl, right?"
Draco patted his shoulder. "Of course not. I'm sure one of them will be straight enough to carry on the legacy." He whispered back, "Got your eye on someone?"
Scorpius eyes immediately shot to where James Potter was fighting with his sister Lily. Draco sighed. "I suppose you aren't biologically related, at least. It's better than your Grandmother's family ever managed." Draco understood the allure of a Potter... even if the thought of his son dating the son of the man he loved was vaguely nauseating.
"Have you seen the babies?" Scorpius asked. He pointed to the far corner of the nursery through the window.
Draco shook his head. "Not yet. I wanted to make sure you were all right with this first."
Scorpius nodded. "I'm fine. Now go see them. They look like tiny wrinkled monkeys. It's kind of cute, I suppose, in an odd way."
Draco squeezed his son's shoulder once and then walked to the door where Harry was standing. He was talking to his kids. "This won't change anything, all right? I still love all of you exactly the same. Now I just have more people to love."
Albus Severus shrugged. "It's cool, Dad. We know you always wanted more kids anyway. We kind of expected to come home one day and discover you'd adopted a Quidditch team."
Draco nudged Harry. "A Quidditch team?"
Harry blushed. "Well... the Weasley's had enough kids for a whole team, and I kind of always wanted as many as they had." He pouted. "Ginny cut me off after Al though."
Draco glanced at the Potter kids. "You have three kids, Harry."
Harry's eyes looked a bit shifty. "Lily was an accident—the result of too much alcohol and a possibly tampered with birth control potion."
"You are utterly devious." Draco turned towards the door then. "Let's go see the rest of your Quidditch team then. I'm tired of being held up."
Harry grinned and followed him. "They're over here. And they aren't the rest of my Quidditch team. Even if I counted Scorpius, I still need one more."
The babies were lying in soft bassinets surrounded by bubble-force-fields. He knew which two were theirs because they looked exactly as they had been described. The little boy was tiny, with just a smattering of hair on his wrinkled head. The girl was only slightly bigger, and her head was bald and smooth, though the rest of her was terribly wrinkly. They were both perfect.
"If you want a whole Quidditch team, you'd better look elsewhere. One pregnancy was more than enough for me." Draco had heard everything that Harry was implying. If he was ready to count Scorpius as one of his own, he was ready to stick around. "I can't leave my wife, Harry. She's my best friend, and I love her for that, even if the thought of her vagina makes me want to scream."
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. "That's fine. I can't divorce Ginny either since she is still alive and I can't reach her to send the papers anyway."
Draco realized then that he hadn't even thought about Ginny. "Where is she? I thought she'd be here screaming about this by now."
Harry shifted behind Draco. "She... may have accidentally seen a basilisk in a puddle. I've heard rumours that she's down in the Chamber of Secrets and has been petrified since Lily left for Hogwarts and began to drive me crazy." He coughed. "The official story and the one the kids know is that she ran off and left us four years ago, and we haven't heard from her since."
Draco spun around in Harry's arms. "Merlin, I love you. You should have been a Slytherin." He kissed Harry soundly on the lips, cognizant of the fact that both of their families could see everything from the other side of the nursery glass.
Harry kissed him back, running a hand along the side of Draco's face and down his body. Thankfully it was on the side their families couldn't see because he gave Draco's bum a nice firm squeeze when he got to it. "Sure I can't convince you to have those last two players?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Give it up, Potter." He didn't say yes or no though. Even though he'd just had his babies, Draco almost wished they could have more. Almost.
Harry grinned. "Never, Malfoy."
Draco turned back to the babies. "Speaking of last names... what are we going to name them?" He placed a finger on Harry's lips before he could say anything. "That was a rhetorical question. If I let you have your way, my children would be named Dobby and Hedwig."
Harry stuck out his lower lip. "They would not... at least not for first names!"
Draco shushed him. "I think... Corona Dora Potter and Serpens Remus Malfoy will be just right."
Harry huffed. "How are Corona and Serpens any better than Hedwig and Dobby?"
"They are both July constellations, like Scorpius and Draco. I quite like the idea of my children matching... and not because they all have dead people's names."
Harry squeezed him around the middle. "Thank you for their middle names though. Teddy and Andromeda will appreciate it too."
Draco sniffed and moved closer to the incubator bubbles, watching each of his children's chests rise and fall. "I didn't do it for you. I did it so that they'd match their siblings."
"I love you." Harry leaned around Draco and kissed each of the incubator bubbles. "And I love you, and I love you. And in just under a month, when your lungs are fully developed and you can live without magical interventions, we will take you home and live happily ever after."
Draco nodded. "You should go talk to everyone, Harry. I'm going to stay for just a few seconds more." Harry agreed, probably sensing Draco wanted a bit of privacy with the babies. Once he was gone, Draco let out a snigger. "Your daddy is a liar, babies. We probably won't be able to go a day without fighting, and your siblings will probably bicker over everything, and your grandparents are going to be obnoxious and nosy. But we will always love you, and in the end, I promise everything will turn out all right."