Chapter 6: 7/8/9
Chapter Seven: Keep Your Friends Close
"Harry! I've been looking all over for you."
Harry looked up from the big tome he was flipping through. "Let me guess-the library is the last place you looked."
She pulled out a chair and gave him a sheepish look. "Yeah. Guess I was getting you and Ron confused. What are you doing here?" Flipping the book to its cover, she glanced at the title, Magical Maladies, Mysteries, and Myths.
"Progenitors, Chapter 19," he said by way of explanation.
"Oh. About that, Harry-Listen, I'm sorry. I should have reacted better."
Harry shrugged. "You said what you felt."
"But only children do that. None of us are children anymore, Malfoy included, and this problem you have is wholly an adult one."
"It's not a problem, Hermione. I won't have you treat it like one, okay? It doesn't need a solution. I'm not here trying to research my way out of it. I just want to know what's going to happen and how I can best help Mal-Draco."
"That's very decent of you." She grinned and gave him a nudge. "I always knew you'd make a great boyfriend. It's time for dinner. Why don't we head down, then come back here afterwards and I'll help you figure out the best way to pamper Malfoy through this."
He brushed his shoulder against hers. "Thanks."
"I'm your friend, Harry, no matter what. Speaking of...are you and Malfoy going to tell anyone?"
He took the book back to its shelf before returning and making his reply. "Isn't it bad enough Snape knows?"
"He must be furious."
"Yeah, but I think that he's a little relieved, too. Not about me and Draco and the baby, but because Draco's not going to serve Voldemort. He's been on the inside for a long time. He knows what it's like, what kind of stuff Draco would have to do. I'm guessing it really hurts him to teach these wizards and witches, then watch Voldemort destroy them bit by bit."
"Have you thought about it, Harry? Thought about facing our fellow Hogwarts students on a battlefield? It's going to be like a civil war-families fighting against each other, maybe dorm mates, lovers..."
Harry sighed. "That's why I wish-I mean, this is about Voldemort and me. Why does it have to involve all of you? No other deaths, not Cedric's nor Sirius' nor yours nor Ron's nor anyone else's is going to make one bit of difference. It's him or me. I just wish..."
"Stop it, Harry! Yes, it may come down to just you and-him, but you can't fight this war on your own. It doesn't work that way. Going off on your own-"
"Is just stupid and gets people killed," he mumbled bitterly. Like Sirius.
"Going off on your own," she began again patiently, "is courageous and brave, but just as-" she paused and took a deep breath, "-Voldemort is not alone, you aren't either. Do you see him trying to fight without the Death Eaters?"
"Don't you mean 'hiding behind his Death Eaters'?"
"Harry! You're not hiding behind anyone! You're the one who pointed out you're only seventeen. You've just reached age in the Wizarding world. Give yourself time and I promise you, together we will figure out a way to kick Voldemort's arse. You, me, and Ron, remember? The brain, the strategist, and the hero. They'll be writing books about us, Harry, and they'll end up in Muggle libraries. Our kids will read them and laugh because they'll know us as simply Mom and Dad and Auntie and Uncle."
Harry snickered at the images Hermione's words were drawing. "Your kids will laugh. Mine will probably just roll his eyes and mutter something about Gryffindors and their egos."
"Who knows? You and Malfoy just might have a Gryffindor," Hermione pointed out.
"As if Draco would allow that," Harry said with a grin.
Hermione sobered. "This is really happening. You and Malfoy and a baby. This is not the type of thing that can remain a secret for long, Harry. How are you planning to handle the inevitable?"
"I'm not sure. It's really up to Draco mostly. The risk is all his."
"Don't let him run a guilt trip on you, Harry. It's takes two to tango, you know."
But only one to rape. "The book said the pregnancy would be physically demanding. There're going to be a lot of magical adjustments made to his body, a body that has barely got used to being a Progenitor in the first place. I just want to make it as easy as possible for him. No matter who did what, the burden of this is firmly on him. I have to support him fully. Not to mention the fallout with his family and the other Death Eaters."
"Speaking of fallout, when are you going to tell Ron?" she asked as they left the library and walked toward the Great Hall. It was time for dinner.
"How about never?" He could feel her glare without even looking in her direction. "I just found out this morning, Hermione. I need to get it straight in my own head before I go to Ron with it."
"Fair enough. Besides, he's probably not going to take it too well."
"He and Draco are a lot alike, you know."
"Bite your tongue, Harry Potter!" she said in defense of her boyfriend.
"They're both stubborn and opinionated and quite unbending at times. I wonder if that's the pureblood in them."
"Which is why Muggles have laws against that sort of thing-inbreeding, I mean," Hermione said with a giggle. "But I guess we're fine ones to talk, considering we both fell for said purebloods."
Fell for? He hadn't fallen-Oh, yeah. Hermione thought it was about passion. Not force. Not cruelty. Not...pain and humiliation and a child conceived in spilled blood in a dusty cupboard.
Maybe he never should have been freed from his cupboard.
Hermione tugged at his arm, and he looked up to realize he'd almost walked into a wall. "Thanks," he mumbled.
She squeezed his hand. "You're not alone in this, okay? Nor is...Malfoy. You...both can count on me."
He smiled at her determined look. "Is it really that difficult?"
She thought about it for a moment. "No. It's not. It doesn't have to be, and it shouldn't be. You're both acting rather mature about this whole situation, and I should learn from your example. Besides, we've handled angry trolls and three-headed dogs and killer chess pieces-"
"Stop, or you'll be naming things all through dinner," he teased.
She leaned over to whisper in his ear as they stepped into the Great Hall. "So a pregnant Malfoy should be a piece of cake, right?"
"Think I can trade him in for the angry troll?" he whispered back.
Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table where Draco sat. "He's got better hair than the troll."
"And a better body," Harry said without thinking.
Hermione just snickered and agreed.
Because Draco was always, always, aware of when someone was looking at him, he knew immediately when Potter and the mudblood walked in. Since she looked, he figured Potter had told her about the baby. That wasn't surprising. Potter could barely find his dick without her help. What was surprising was the lack of daggers in her look.
And what got him pissed was the snickering afterwards. What? Did they think this situation was funny? This wasn't some fucking joke. He was pregnant, for fucking sake! The body that he had cultivated for years was going to be turned into a fucking parade balloon that might not deflate properly. He had let Potter maim him, had let Potter fucking fill his arse with his fucking inferior semen, had let Potter's half-blood sperm join with his absolutely perfect egg...
"Jealousy looks good on you," Blaise commented.
Draco glared at him. How dare he mistake justifiable rage for mere jealousy. "The day I'm jealous of a mudblood is the day I give Dumbledore a fucking blowjob." Not that he wouldn't, if he had to. Even Dumbledore's dick had to be better than Voldemort's. Besides, at least he'd get a lemon drop afterwards to clear his palate.
"So is he two-timing you?" Pansy asked as she followed the pair's progress toward the Gryffindor table. "Or three-timing?"
Draco looked to see the two joining Weasley at the table.
"That's why we're insisting on the binding," Pansy explained. "We don't want to be left hanging if Potter gets an itch other than you."
"But since you are so sure of your control of him, having him bind won't be a problem, will it, Draco?" Millicent asked with fake sincerity.
Draco wanted to tell her, tell all of them to kiss his Pureblood arse, but he didn't. There would be a time for getting even, a time after they had pledged themselves, their very futures to him.
Idiots all.
Despite their obvious mental deficiencies, the idea of getting him to bind with Potter was a worthy challenge. Unlike a mundane, even-muggles-do-it marriage, a binding could only be done by two who had wizarding blood in their veins. Binding required the actual linkage of magic and souls, not just a recitation of pretty, but generally meaningless words. That's why a binding wouldn't occur unless magic itself ordained that the two participants truly wanted it, were inarguably "in love", and were absolutely committed to each other.
Which might prove to be a slight problem when it came to Potter and him.
However-his oh-so-clever friends' specific challenge had been to, "Get Potter to consent to a full ceremonial binding." There was no mention of "achieving a successful bond" and all the lovey-dovey crap that involved.
It was all in the details.
Draco dragged out his dinner until he saw Potter getting ready to leave. He made sure they got to the Great Hall doors at the same time.
"Meet me at 9:00. Potions Lab."
He didn't wait for acknowledgment.
Chapter Eight: You Didn't Even Ask
"What's he on about?" Ron asked, his voice dripping with disgust.
"Huh?" Harry was too busy thinking about why Draco wanted to see him to pay attention to Ron. Draco hadn't been at lunch, nor had he attended his afternoon lessons. Now he wanted to talk. Was something wrong with the baby?
"Malfoy. The git whispered something to you. What was it?"
"Um..." Harry scrambled to come up with something-anything.
"Hush, Ron. It's probably something to do with the potions project Snape assigned them to."
Bless you, Hermione. "Yeah, we have to get together and, you know, work on the assignment."
"Is Snape still up to that same old shit? Partnering you up with Malfoy?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess he has to get his jollies some way."
"How about you, Hermione? You got one of those slimy Slytherins for a partner?"
"No, just Harry. Maybe Snape likes seeing Harry and Malfoy together."
"Eww. That's just-eww!" Ron said, gagging.
"Don't, Ron."
Ron frowned. "Don't what, Harry?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I don't like thinking that Snape gets off on seeing me and Malfoy together, but I don't think me and Malfoy together is such a bad deal overall."
"What?"
"Draco is kind of hot."
"What?"
"I might be kind of-" Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, "bi-sexual."
"What?"
"I swing both ways, Ron," Harry said emphatically.
"Yeah."
Harry blinked. "You knew?"
Ron shrugged. "I always kind of wondered. But, you know, it's, like, cool with me."
"So why all these 'whats'?" Harry asked in exasperation.
"You think Malfoy is hot. That's the what, mate."
"But he is. Don't you think so, Hermione?" Harry flinched as she glared at him. Oops.
"He can be considered...attractive," she hedged. "If you like the bottle-blonde type."
"It's not from a bottle," Harry murmured, remembering the platinum hair, stained with the blood oozing from the deep tears within.
Ron sat dead in the middle of the corridor.
"Subtle, Harry," Hermione said dryly.
Fuck.
After a long, uncomfortable silence, Ron finally spoke. "I guess this means the two of you are not meeting up to work on a project?"
"No." Harry took a step back, just in case Ron came up swinging.
But Ron merely climbed to his feet and brushed off his robes. "Guess you should get your studying done, then. What time does he want-what time do you have to meet him?"
"Nine o'clock."
Ron nodded. "Don't worry about coming back to the dormitory late. I'll cover for you."
"You will?" Harry looked at Hermione whose face was mirroring his own shock.
"Sure. You'd cover for me if the situation was reversed, wouldn't you?"
"Of course. But-you're okay with this?"
"No, but I have five older brothers, Harry. You think Mum has approved of all their shag partners? Her fussing just made them mad enough to stay on even when they were ready to end it. When you get tired of Malfoy, I don't want you staying on just to spite me."
"That's terribly grown up of you, Ron," Hermione praised. "And rather pessimistic."
"We're talking about Malfoy," Ron replied. Hermione nodded.
Harry sighed. Too bad they didn't know Malfoy was the one in danger from the relationship. It had to be disturbing, if not downright scary, to keep meeting privately with the person who had attacked you. Malfoy's guts through all of this had surprised him. Far from being the little coward he'd been in the past, the Slytherin had faced the rape, pregnancy, loss of his parents and status, and now this prolonged contact with his assailant, with courage and dignity. He hadn't run away or had a screaming fit.
Was this because he was going to be a parent? What had the priest said on one Christmas Eve (the only time the Dursleys ever went to Mass, and the once they'd taken him along had been when the neighbors had seen Harry and knew he was too young to be left alone)? "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."* The words had stuck in his head because at that moment he'd wished he was a man so he could leave the Dursleys and live by himself. Had the prospect of having a child himself caused Draco to become a man? And if he had, if he could, then it only stood to reason that Harry could do the same.
He hoped.
At five till nine, Harry walked toward the Potions Lab. Before he reached the door, a hand stuck out of the wall and pulled him straight through the stone.
"What the-" He looked around the small room, noting it was completely empty, except for- "What's going on, Mal-Draco?"
"Snape has the Hufflepuff third-years in detention, so the lab's off-limits."
"Oh. Why did you want to see me?"
"To tell you I won't be alone in this."
"Of course not. I-"
Draco shook his head. "I've talked my friends into not following Voldemort. They'll need protection from their families for a while."
Harry frowned, then reluctantly nodded. "I'll talk to the Headmaster..."
Draco stamped his foot. "What's the problem, Potter?"
He knew Draco wasn't going to like his next question, but it had to be asked. "Your friends. Are you sure that this is what they want? That they're not-"
As expected, Draco exploded. "What do you take me for? A foolish Hufflepuff? Of course I know this is what they want! This is my life, too, Potter. How could you possibly think that I wouldn't be one-hundred percent sure of their leanings? I know you and your friends think of me as some kind of git, but I didn't know you thought I was stupid as well!"
"Never stupid, Draco. But-"
"There are no 'but's. I don't risk my life on 'but's. If you don't trust me on anything, trust me on that."
And...yes, Draco's self-preservation ability was something he did trust. "Okay. I'm sure Dumbledore won't mind."
"Why should he? More fodder for the slaughter, right?"
"That's Voldemort's way, not Dumbledore's," Harry said adamantly.
"War is war, Potter. People die no matter whose side they're on."
The truth of that stung quite a bit. "At least they won't die by their leader's own hand."
Draco shrugged. "Just by his orders."
Harry wanted to defend Dumbledore, but as he'd said before, Slytherins saw very clearly. "Is there anything else you wanted?"
"Just this." He shoved a scroll in Harry's direction.
"What is-" Harry unrolled it and read. "This is a binding ceremony." He frowned in confusion. He only recognized what it was because the words "Binding Ceremony" were written across the top in very formal script.
"Yes, it's the simplest I could find. I didn't want to task your brain too much."
"Task my- What are you on about, Malfoy?"
"We're. Going. To. Have. A. Binding. Ceremony. Potter," Draco said slowly.
Binding ceremony? That was like, marriage or something, right? "No," Harry said loudly.
"No?"
"No. I'm not going to bond with you." Married to Malfoy? No way.
"Why?"
Why? He had the gall to ask why? "Because you're a git and even though you're really hot, I don't like you. You've been mean to me and my friends from the beginning. You've got me into trouble, talked about me to my face and behind my back, and led your Slytherins to treat me like shit!" Harry spat the last word. "How dare you just hand me this parchment like it's a done deal. Like it's an order. Bond with you? Bloody hell, you didn't even ask!"
"Neither did you!" Draco retorted.
Harry stepped back as if slapped and then his eyes narrowed in anger. He could see the future, and he didn't like it one bit. Hermione had warned him that Malfoy would use his sense of guilt against him. "You are not going to play that card every time you want something your way," he charged furiously.
"My way? Forgive me, Potter, if I want our child to be called a bastard because he takes after you, not because he is one!"
Draco's caustic remark acted as a Petrificus spell, freezing Harry in both movement and thought.
By the time he recovered, Draco was partially out of the room. In a panic, Harry grabbed Draco's shoulder and yanked him back inside. With a snarl, Draco turned around.
Harry found himself face to face with a drawn wand.
*I Corinthians 13:11
Chapter Nine: What's Done Is Done
Draco was furious. Furious that Potter had his hands on him, furious that Potter had refused to bond, furious that nothing was going right. Furious that at the moment he was actually trembling with fear because Potter had touched him. "No! You will never manhandle me again, Potter," Draco said between clenched teeth, his wand aimed squarely at the broad chest heaving in front of him.
Blanching, Potter let go immediately and backed away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, his hands up so Draco could see them.
Draco eyed him warily, took a deep breath, and sheathed his wand. "Don't do that again."
"I won't."
He took another calming breath and stared haughtily at Potter, focusing on his absolute knowledge that Potter had only attacked him because of the potion. It wouldn't happen again. Potter wasn't like that. Potter didn't do things like that. Potter was good and light and all that sickening stuff. "So why did you drag me back in here?"
"I wanted to tell you-I wanted to say okay."
Draco felt some of the tension leave his body. Maybe Potter wasn't going to be a complete arse about everything. "Okay what?"
"Okay to the binding." Potter held up the parchment. "I'll memorize it."
Ah, it was time to smirk. "And get decent robes?"
"And get decent robes."
"You'll ask Dumbledore?"
"Yes."
"And get permission to use his office. We'll need privacy."
"Okay."
Draco had to fight the urge to pump his fist in victory. That could wait until he was alone and savoring his victory. Except- "Why the sudden change of heart?" he asked suspiciously. "You aren't pitying me, are you?"
"No. I see-your point about the baby, and I think it'll be good for both of us."
Draco frowned, unconvinced of Potter's sincerity. "That's not what you said a minute ago," he argued. Helpless devotion? Yes. Pity? No. He was still a Malfoy, damn it!
Potter's eyes dropped to the floor. "I reacted without thinking. It's a habit of mine that I'm trying to break."
Oh, just normal Potter stupidity. "Try harder."
"I will. Draco, I want us to be a real family. I'm hoping that you know what that is, because I don't. But I don't want our child thinking he's a mistake or a burden, and I don't want you thinking that either."
Draco gave a solemn nod and turned to leave. He had no idea what a real family was either. Did a real family lead their child into a life of slavery and bloodshed? Did a real family want their son to become a killer and a rapist?
He was just as lost as Harry.
"Draco?"
At least Potter didn't try grabbing him again. "Yes, Harry?"
"What would you have said-if I had asked?"
His first thought was a sneering, "No." But Potter had a body to die for and a sexy mess of hair that just begged to be tugged one way and then the other. Not to mention the magical power he exuded was definitely a turn on. Would he really have turned down a chance to shag the Boy-Who-Lived? And if he had shagged him, would he have had to come up with this desperate solution? Potter would've probably willingly served as his protector and defender after two or three bouts of sex. He seemed like that type. But... "I don't know. But what's done is done, and we can't change it, Harry. We can only make the best out of what is." He folded his hands over his belly.
"We've already made the best," Potter said softly, looking at Draco's hands.
"Maybe, Harry, maybe."
Harry took his time getting back to Gryffindor Tower. Being a Seventh Year had its advantage-a much later curfew, so he went outside and sat on the huge front steps to think. Reviewing the whole conversation with Draco in his head, Harry came to the conclusion that he'd acted like a ten-year-old Dudley having a temper tantrum.
So much for that "putting away childish things" proclamation.
Draco assumed they were going to get married-bound or whatever. It was a reasonable assumption. In the Muggle world it was known as "taking responsibility." Having two daddies, one being the Boy-Who-Lived and the other a son of a Death Eater, was going to be enough of a burden; making him a literal bastard was asking too much of the child. He could already hear the taunts and see the bruises on his child from a number of scuffles the first days at Hogwarts. Someone would know that he was Harry Potter's son and take that as a challenge. Someone would know he was a Malfoy and take that as an excuse to abuse him. Someone would know that one of his parents was too selfish and would call him an unwanted bastard. The first two reasons were unfortunately unavoidable, but the third... How could he explain to his child that "I'd do anything for you, except marry your other father and make you legitimate"?
Also, the baby deserved to be legally linked to the Potter name. There was a chance, a huge chance, that he wouldn't survive the final confrontation with Voldemort. If they were married, Draco and the baby would inherit his stuff without someone making an issue of it- and the two would inherit Sirius's legacy as well. Which was good because Draco had Black blood in him and deserved to be Sirius's heir.
And it wasn't like he had something better waiting for him. There was no girl-or boy-he was secretly fancying. No dreams to be shattered because he was tied to Draco. No future plans deferred because he was a teenage father. No big sacrifices at all.
Not much of a life at all.
So why had he jumped on Draco like that? He'd accused him of using the rape as leverage, and that was the one thing Draco hadn't done. Ever. Even when he should have. And, O God, the fear in Draco's eyes when Harry had grabbed him... No one except Voldemort should ever look at him with that kind of fear.
It was killing Harry that he didn't know what happened. Maybe he needed to ask Snape to investigate. No, he was sure Snape had already investigated. He needed to ask Snape what he'd found out...and if he'd already secretly taken care of the problem. Snape was a Slytherin and Harry had no doubt at all that he'd handle a threat to one of his own. Especially if the threat was toward Draco. There was some connection between the two. Maybe Snape had known Draco since he was a kid. Maybe he saw himself in Draco. Maybe he saw a future Potions Master in the making.
Hell, maybe Snape and Narcissa, or Snape and Lucius-
Harry forced the thought to leave his mind.
So, if Snape wasn't chaperoning their every meeting or demanding he turn in his wand, then Snape must already know he wasn't going to hurt Draco-which Harry knew had nothing to do with trusting Harry and everything to do with knowing why the rape had occurred. That made Harry feel a whole lot better, but from Draco's reaction, apparently it hadn't completely eased Draco's mind. However, Harry realized, he shouldn't have grabbed a rape victim.
Boy, wouldn't Draco be having a fit if he knew Harry was thinking of him as a "rape victim." But that's what he was, and in between looking up stuff on Progenitors he'd read a couple of things about the way rape affected people, about the post-traumatic shock they suffered long after the incident. He didn't know whether Draco had talked about it to anyone or been counseled. Surely Madam Pomfrey- But maybe things were done differently in the Wizarding world. It wasn't like he knew much about it, even though he'd lived in it the past seven years. He didn't know this world and quite frankly, he didn't know Draco. He knew Draco's father. He knew Draco's father's allies and associates. But he knew nothing about Draco, the man he was engaged to.
Except that he was carrying his baby.
And that he'd turned his back on his family to protect that baby.
And that he was willing to share the baby with him.
Harry knew Draco could have demanded Snape, Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey keep his secret. Since he had his own account at Gringott's, Draco could have run off and had the baby somewhere else, probably living quite comfortably. But he hadn't. He'd told Harry about the baby and was willing to let him be a part of their child's life-even when it increased the danger to both Draco and the baby.
That probably admitted more about Draco than Draco would ever admit himself.
Maybe he did know enough about Draco. And maybe a binding with Draco was exactly what he needed.
Draco concluded, as he made his way back to the Slytherin Common Room, that dealing with Harry Potter was exhausting. He was as predictable as Draco had first thought, but it always took a while for Harry to find the predictable response. That was rough on the nerves. Especially pregnant nerves. Especially pregnant nerves which had been unnerved by Potter grabbing him. He shouldn't have reacted like that. Sure, he'd been frightened that night when Potter was under the influence of the potion, but he hadn't expected that fear to last. It was stupid and giving Potter way too much control. He was a Slytherin and a Malfoy. The fear had to stop.
Thinking only of reaching one of the calming potions Snape had made for him, Draco didn't see the foot that one enterprising Sixth Year Slytherin stuck out. And after his head slammed into the stone wall of the dungeon, he didn't see anything at all.
Weekly Power Status
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