Pairing: Harry/Draco (obviously)
Words: About 11,000
Prompt: Written for dragon_charmer, who wanted a bunch of things, including: seduction, hurt/comfort, dirty talk, Parselsmut, teasing, UST, happy endings, and well-written mpreg. I'm hoping my characterization wasn't too womanized, as that was in the list of things not wanted.
Harry sighed. Draco had, after sleeping some thirty hours, awakened slightly drunk on the stuff Padma had had him keep administering, and while the new more cheerful manner was nice, he was also demanding as hell, and had had a new whim roughly every five minutes for five days running now. Which, so far, he was sending via owl, apparently because it amused him. Harry wasn't so sure it was funny, but it was harmless, at least.
In any case, he'd said he would stay and care for Draco, and he really didn't want him getting up to fend for himself, so he sent the single remaining Malfoy house-elf (and why Draco didn't have the elf care for him in the first place, Harry had no idea; perhaps it was sheer perversity) for cantaloupe and went back to working on a nice hearty beef soup for lunch. He'd never made it before, but the instructions seemed clear enough, and it was a good project for the morning.
It better be fresh. Also, what are you doing down there? It smells like candied newt arse.
Well. It had been a good six minutes between missives this time, so that was something. Harry gaped slightly at the struck out words, wondering whether it was another changing of Draco's mind, an event happening at top speed these days, or a sign of early senility or some sort of come-on. He chose to believe the former, mostly to get his own balls to stop cheering, and set the soup to simmer, then went upstairs with lotion to rub Draco's feet.
"It's about time you came up!"
"Draco. Your owl arrived less than a minute ago, and also, I was cooking. Nothing involving newts. It took a moment to get it to a point at which it could be left." Harry lifted Draco's leg and ducked under it, then set the foot on his diminishing lap. "Just as well you won't be needing this too much longer; my lap seems to be becoming inhospitable," he said with a grin. He squirted lotion into his palm and rubbed it around his hands, then set to work on the outer arch, which was the area of greatest complaint during the two minutes at a time he allowed Draco up to use the toilet.
"Feels goooooood," Draco said amiably, having evidently exhausted his supply of griping on his first statement. He wiggled his toes to the extent that they could move with all the swelling, and closed his eyes, a ridiculous drunken grin on his face.
Harry rubbed in little circles; Padma had said that doing so might not only feel nice, but also might actually help, along with the drug, to stimulate circulation.
"Why is this happening?'
Harry raised an eyebrow, uncertain where to begin. "This, which? The pregnancy? The trouble with it? The foot-rub?"
"All of it."
Harry looked up, examining Draco's face as he lay there with his eyes closed until there was a frown and a kick to get his hands moving again. "Sorry."
"You have to keep rubbing."
"Yes, I know. Very sore, very tired." He went back to work on the foot. "Well, it seems your body just isn't holding up very well. Do you think it's a pureblood issue?"
Draco's eyes opened and he glared. "What?"
"Well. Purebloods rarely have very many children; I was just wondering if it were common to have such a hard time, is all."
"There's nothing wrong with Purebloods."
"Wasn't saying there was. Just wondering." Harry reached back and picked up Draco's other foot and brought it forward into his lap. "Why are there so many only-child Purebloods?"
"Because unlike some people, most of us, except for gauche bunches of ginger-haired poverty-stricken ones, choose not to have entire litters. Ow!" Harry had smacked, very lightly, at the dig, then gone back to rubbing.
"Well, I'm an only, but not pure."
"Obviously." Draco lifted his head to look pointedly at Harry's midsection.
Harry grinned. "A joke? A joke about the babies? Be still my heart."
"Shut it." Draco closed his eyes again. "Work on my legs, too?"
"You know, long, slender--well, usually slender--generally found north of my feet…"
"I know what legs are; you just haven't asked me to rub them before." Harry dripped more lotion on Draco's shin, eliciting a startled jump and muffled cold! "This okay?"
He rubbed up one leg to the knee and started on the other, losing track of time as he stroked up and down smooth and slow, rhythmically, watching the flesh under his hands as it pushed down and didn't rebound, the impression of his movements staying until he pushed somewhere else. It was …disgusting, actually, but kind of fascinating. He kept rubbing as the elf brought in the cantaloupe, which Draco didn't notice.
"Draco?" he said, poking and prodding at the flesh.
"I think this is getting worse . Are you feeling worse?"
"Are you…" Harry looked up to see Draco's eyes had gone unfocused. "Draco?"
"Hmm?" Draco's eyelids fluttered as he tried to look at Harry and failed.
"Shit. Shit shit shit. Brooly!" The house-elf appeared as Harry dug in the bag of supplies. "Go get Padma. The healer that was here before."
"Brooly is not taking orders from--"
"The person who is seeing to it Brooly's master doesn't go into shock and die?"
"Brooly is going."
Harry turned back to Draco with the device Padma had shown him, and pressed it against Draco's hip again. "Draco? Come on. Wake up."
"Shit. Come on. Up up. Padma's coming." I hope. "She can take you to hospital."
Draco mumbled something incoherent and pulled Harry toward him.
"What do you need?"
Draco didn't answer, but just then, Padma and another healer arrived with Brooly and moved Harry aside to organize him for moving.
"Harry, come on," Padma said, beckoning "We need to Apparate him--no, don't worry. We can; the two of you can't for yourselves. Harry blinked and moved toward her, trying to work out quite how his day had gone from soup to hell so quickly.
"Brooly, the soup," he said as they were Apparated away safely by the healers.
"A girl?" Harry blinked. "But--"
"Yes, yes. We know the odds; as you recall, I was the one who laid them out for you. Still, perhaps it helps to explain why your partner has been so ill."
"Is that common?"
The healer looked over the tops of his half-moon glasses and Harry suddenly felt very young. "Nothing about this, Mister Potter, is common. We've not seen a Parseltongue-induced pregnancy in Britain in two hundred years, and we've certainly never seen two at the same time from a single charm. There are far too many variables to say anything with certainty. Now. Your partner won't be awake until we've had time to repair the internal damage, so--"
"Wait, what? I thought getting him. Er, her. Getting her out would fix--"
"No, I'm afraid he's a bit internally …disorganized."
"Oh. Um. Can I see him?"
"Not now." The healer stared at him for a moment, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Go on up to Maternity and Delivery. He needs to stay down here in Spell Damage, but there's no nursery here, so. Go see your daughter."
Harry found himself stumbling up to Maternity and Delivery, not at all certain where he was going and asking directions at least three times before finding his way. As he finally approached, he thought that perhaps the delay had done him good; he was feeling considerably more at ease with words like my daughter and recovery from spell damage.
"Ah," said the young witch at the desk. "You must be the other father of…" She stood as she spoke, then paused, eying Harry's midsection. "Or…"
"No, that's right. I'm here to see my daughter while her other father is recovering."
"I'd noticed, yes. Which way?"
She pointed, frowning, and Harry followed her direction.
They still aren't letting me up there. It's not at all right that I'm being kept restrained and you get to gallivant about.
Also, I think someone has performed a highly illegal stitch hex. Every time I move, it feels as though a muscle has pulled entirely in two
Harry plucked the internal memo bird out of the air and took the letter. "Your father is disgruntled again," he said to the baby in the tiny cot. She pursed her lips and did a comically uncoordinated dance with her invisible-pale eyebrows at his voice, then settled back to sleep. "I know. I'll wake you when there's actual news."
It had taken him an hour to work up the courage to really look at her, tiny as she was, but approximately a third of a second to fall hard once he had. He was pretty sure this was going to work out to be another opportunity for Draco to tell him to stop being a girl, but he found he wasn't inclined to care.
For the time being, he was mostly staying here, partly because it seemed all wrong to leave her entirely alone--except for the staff--and partly because when he'd gone back down after Draco had been put back together, he'd narrowly missed castration by flying lunch tray.
He sighed. It had been a couple of days. Perhaps things were calmer. He pushed up out of the chair, surprised all over again by how much more difficult getting up was each time he went to do so, even over the course the days here. He walked down the hall, noticing as he went that really, at this point, 'waddle' was a more appropriate description, and headed down to Spell Damage.
"Decided to show your face, then?"
"I showed it before! You threw things!"
"When will they let you come see her?"
Harry frowned. "That's unfair."
"Everything about this entire situation is unfair. That it was unplanned, that I managed to have a child with--"
"Fine. Though that one could be not mine."
Harry gasped. "Nice. I was about to offer to use Legilimency to let you see her."
"Well. I've seen her, and Legilimency would--"
"Honestly, Potter. I doubt you'd have paid enough attention to detail. You probably don't even know what color her hair is."
"Very blonde at the moment. Practically white, though it gleams toward golden in the light."
Draco blinked. "I suppose she has horrid green eyes?"
"No, though they said they usually start blue and change. At the moment they're clear blue, though."
"What's. Never mind."
Harry sighed and sat down. "My back is killing me. And yes, I know, I'm better off than you. Now, do you want to see?"
Draco folded his arms over his chest. "I have every right."
"Yes, I know, you impossible… Fine. Legilimens! Hold still, or I'm going to wind up poking around in your head instead of showing you…"
"I was going to say, a bit of a runt."
Harry sighed, then deliberately shifted to one of the three times he'd been allowed to hold her briefly. "Convenient size for cuddling, though."
"Malfoys don't cuddle."
"That one does."
"Clearly your influence."
"Clearly." Harry ended the spell and shoved himself up out of his chair again. "I'll see if I can convince them you should come up."
I can't believe they sent me home with this thing, and I got here and you weren't here any more. What do I know about infants? Honestly. She cries! And makes faces! What am I supposed to do about faces?
Brooly is useless; he points out he is male and knows nothing about babies. I think he's making fun of me.
In a state of panic,
I wasn't so sure you'd want me there. What with thinking the child I'm carrying (still, so at least you got off easy in that regard) is maybe not yours and all.
I expect you do different things depending whether the face is happy or angry. Happy is the one where the sides of the mouth turn up toward the eyes; I realize that's a foreign concept to un-cuddling Malfoys.
Honestly. I didn't mean that. I mean, I did, because bugger if I know what the hell your motivations are for taking a bloke to bed, but I don't really think you accidentally hissed the wrong words at two one-night-stands in the same week or so.
Her eyes are turning green, by the way. Also, she cries a lot. I think you might have been better at the cuddling. Or she imprinted on you or something.
Somehow the suggestion you feel confident because you don't think I could pull two the same week really isn't a huge improvement.
Just hold her.
Also, really, would it kill you to address me (and you) by name?
I guess my hints aren't working. You must be unusually thick.
I think you should come see her.
Horrified by having said that,
"Draco?" Harry followed the sound of squalling infant from the entry hall up the stairs.
"Up here. Always up here." Draco had his back to the door amid a cloud of talcum powder. He turned. "See? Always crying."
Harry waddled over and waved his hand in front of his face. "God, were you under the impression her arse was the size of Hagrid's? She's two inches wide! She can't need this much powder!" He picked her up from the cloud and rested her against his chest. "Hi."
She grabbed at his lapel and curled against him. Draco scowled. "See? She just likes you better."
Harry rolled his eyes and gently turned the infant, then set her against Draco's chest and moved Draco's hands to cradle her. "Maybe not."
"Pat. They said, at the hospital. I don't actually know any more about this than you do, and given the environment in which I was raised, I don't have much to fall back on."
Draco looked at Harry for the first time other than a cursory glance before, then stopped and looked again. "You look like shit."
"No, I mean…"
"I'm just tired, Draco." Harry backed toward one of the rocking chairs he'd come past and sat down with a thump.
Draco sat in the other one, still patting.
"And I want to be here with her too, but I'm not going to let you say horrible things to me."
"What? I've always said--"
"Not in the presence of an infant, you haven't." Draco gaped, but Harry pulled himself upright and stood again. "You've got yours, she's fine, and I'm tired. I'll just go, now."
"I. Let me put her down. I think she's ready to sleep. Then I'll, um. See you out."
"No need. I've no desire to remain, and I'm certainly not going to steal the silver."
"Just. Hold on." Draco pointed his wand ahead of him and cleared up the powder residue, then put the baby down. She snorted, but settled, and Draco followed Harry out of the room and toward the stairs.
"This is fun," Harry said. "Glad I waited."
"Potter. Look. I mean, Harry. I mean. Just, would you come here?"
"Because I said so."
"Lovely. No. Look, Draco, I'm tired, and I don't want to shout and wake her up."
"I told you. I'm not going to let you be horrible to me. Also, I'm not going to let you order me around."
"What? Oh. I mean, because I asked you to. Um."
"Why would you ask me to?"
Draco sighed. "Can you just."
"Look, if I sit down again, I'm staying down. And if I do it here, I'm bloody well making you rub my feet."
"I. All right."
Harry raised his eyebrows, but let Draco lead him into the bedroom from which they'd gone in such a rush weeks before, and let himself be settled on the bed, feet up. "Can you hear her from here?"
"Yes. Take off your shoes."
"Why the hell are you rubbing my feet, and also, I think we just discussed ordering around."
"Um. Because you did?"
"Yes, well, I also cuddled your daughter while you weren't available to, but Malfoys don't cuddle, so--"
"Potter, I'm trying here. And I did cuddle her. Kind of. Before."
"Have you even named her yet?"
"No." Draco looked down at Harry's shoes, which he was unlacing since Harry had made no move to do so, and changed the subject. "I think you're losing weight."
Harry stared. "What?"
"I mean, except for the, you know." Draco waved.
"I'm pretty sure I'm not."
"Well, I think you need porridge. With fruit in it. And nuts, and cream… Brooly!"
"Brooly is here, sir."
Harry turned his head to look at the elf. "How'd you get one to talk …not like Dobby?"
The elf glared, enlarging its bulbous eyes even further than they had already been. "That name is not to be mentioned in the presence of--"
"Sorry. I actually had forgotten. Anyway. Oh, god, Draco had removed his shoes and was now doing the same sort of massage Harry had done, weeks ago.
"Porridge," Draco said again. "With the apples and cranberries."
Brooly vanished, and Draco went back to rubbing.
"Draco, I don't even especially like porridge. Or cranberries."
Draco shrugged. "More for me." Harry laughed and relaxed on the bed.
"Draco?" he said, a moment later.
"Harry. Anyway. Why are you rubbing my feet?'
"Don't question it."
"Ah." Harry fell silent for a moment. "Why haven't you named her?"
"Honestly, Potter. I knew you were a heathen, but--"
"What? You're waiting for, like, baptism?"
"What? No. Naming a child is something the parents do together, whether they like each other or not."
"Oh. Um. Okay. Should we do that now?"
"You've barely met her."
"No, I spent some time with her early on. I don't think she's an Ethel."
Draco's hands froze for a moment. "Ew. Perhaps I should do the suggesting."
"I wasn't suggesting that; I was anti-suggesting it. Oh, right there. Yes, like that."
"For a name. You know, like the flower?"
"Like my mother."
"I was thinking of mine, actually."
"Oh. Right, actually. Um, Rose?"
"You can't be serious. Daisy."
Draco scowled. "Nasturtia."
"Honestly. Were you never ten? You think there's any chance that wouldn’t get trimmed down to 'Nasty?' I'd rather not have my daughter named Nasty."
"Who would dare?"
"Every other ten year old in the vicinity?"
Harry raised up onto his elbows. "Yes, your daughter, unless you want to raise her as sheltered as you were, and I believe that night, shortly before the rather phenomenal amount of fucking, you were grumbling drunkenly about how you'd never been allowed to do anything. Or anyone."
"You remember that?"
"I remember just about everything about that night. I wasn't really drunk."
"You were, and I was drinking with you, it's just I don't tend to get particularly tipsy, and even if I do, I don't forget things that I do meanwhile. Or that others do."
Draco's hands stilled again. "That's completely unfair. That means you have a perfect memory of my arse, and I'm stuck with a muddy blurry--"
"You've been trying to remember my arse?"
"Well, if you know the image is muddy and blurry and whatnot--"
"Oh. Er. Maybe."
"Go back to rubbing. And yes, I do remember your arse. I remember how you're so pale in the crease between your leg and thigh that there are at least three distinct veins on each side to trace over with my tongue. Oi, you stopped again."
"And I remember that you curve to the left--your left; my right." Harry hooked a finger inside his mouth and pulled to the right, then let go. "Right there, I remember the feeling of your head--"
"I remember that you wanted to be on all fours and then just as I was sliding into you, sliding in all slick because we both said the lube charm at the same time and it was warm and you were ready and I was so ready and then you wanted to see, wanted to watch. You stopped again."
"I did not! That's how we wound up with Poinsettia!"
"I meant now, and oh my god we are not naming her Poinsettia. Pointy. I'm sure she'll be slender, and she probably has your chin, but that would be a bit much."
"What else do you, um, remember."
"I remember we'd already fucked against the wall and over the back of the couch and on the table--"
"We did not do it on the table. How crass."
"We did, and you'll be pleased to learn we cracked one leg slightly. I look at it every day. The crack. Your crack."
Draco groaned. "You still have the table? In your kitchen?"
"Sure. Still good for at least one more go, after all." Harry was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be thinking about sex now, not with thirty pounds of extra middle and a baby in the next room to boot, but all this remembering had roused his cock despite his earlier tiredness, and, at a glance, despite the loose robe, he was nearly sure Draco was interested, too. "Or we could stick with the bed, for now."
"Unless we're just reminiscing."
Draco's hands slid up Harry's shins. "Reminisce some more."
"And I'd used Parseltongue--"
"Can you now?"
"Perv, and no."
"I want to charm your snake on my own merits, thanks."
"Will you, once I'm already fucking you?"
"Who says you get to--"
"You're already on your back, and also, hissing or not, you can't get pregnant right now."
Harry snorted. "As far as we know."
Draco's eyes went wide. "Oh, god." Still, his fingers were still sliding up Harry's thighs, pushing his robe up and out of the way, and all at once he leaned forward, rolling up onto his knee, other foot flat on the floor, drawing Harry's knees up.
"Er. I don't know if, uh. I might actually have to be on all fours. Or something." Harry started to roll, but Draco stopped him.
Draco moved off the bed, then used his wand to transfigure it taller, and, or good measure, banished both of their robes. Harry winced at the chilly air on his skin, but then Draco was pulling at his legs, directing him to the edge of the bed and standing right there, hard cock running alongside Harry's balls and brushing the lower curve of his great belly. "Like this work?"
Harry just groaned and reached around his stomach with both hands, grasping his own cock in one hand and Draco's in the other. "It'll work. Fuck."
Draco Summoned his wand from the robes that had folded themselves on the chair and muttered a lubrication charm, slicking both their cocks in Harry's hands, then leaning forward, one hand on each side of Harry, thrusting and groaning, and Harry found himself trying to awkwardly arch up against the absurd shape of his lower body, which was, apparently, far from flexible these days. "Come on," he urged, frustrated.
"What?" That was a grunt, not a real word, but Harry understood it anyway.
"Just. Get. This is. Please?"
"Please what?" Draco had stilled--well, not quite; he was still flexing and stretching the muscles of his arse, but he wasn't moving much and was looking down at Harry with something that might possibly be …concern?
"Please. Just. Inside? Please?" Harry was a bit startled by how badly he wanted that, but it had been months, and now that he'd started down this path he found himself needy, almost desperate, and before he thought about it too hard, he was begging again, hissing the words Draco didn't quite understand.
Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes, then shifted his weight left and put his right hand over Harry's mouth. "You said you didn't want that."
"Yes, but I want--"
"Say, Potter. Say what you want." Draco opened his eyes again and stood up, stepping back. "Without that."
"I want." Harry groaned, squeezing his cock and trying unsuccessfully to reach down past his balls. "I want you to." He settled for gripping the flesh of his inner thigh hard, holding on as hard as he wanted to grab Draco's arse and pull him in. "Want you inside me. Please."
Draco lifted a brow. "You're sure it's not too much? You're rather, um."
"Unappealing?" Harry sighed. "I just. I'm--"
"Fuck. No. Delicate."
Harry laughed. "Oh, fuck. I look delicate? I look like a whale on bleeding growth hormone."
Draco snorted. "Do not. You sure?"
"So sure." Harry planted his heels against the edge of the bed and pulled his arse that last inch closer, then hooked his ankles around Draco's thighs and pulled. "Get here. Holding my legs up without something to wrap them around is too hard."
Draco stepped forward and picked his wand up again, recasting the lubrication charm and positioning himself carefully. "All right?"
"Malfoy. I want sex, not some sort of examination."
"I'm not exactly a mediwizard." Draco pushed forward slightly and they both groaned.
"Just as well. I'm nearly sure. That's not an accepted practice." Harry tugged with his ankles again, forcing Draco deeper into him. "Damn. Been a long, long time."
"Good." Harry hadn't actually meant to go back to Parseltongue for that, but once he'd started, the words flowed, sinuous and slow, so good, like that, I've wanted this for months, months, and how did this we ever wait this long and why do I need this?
"What are you saying?" Draco's eyes had glazed over and he was shaking, moving slowly, shoulders straining over Harry as he supported himself up off Harry's stomach.
"Not nothing. Tell me."
"Just. It's good. So good. We should do this. All the time." All the time every day every morning before breakfast and after supper.
Draco moved a little faster, straightening to grip Harry's thigh and wrap his hand around Harry's pumping Harry's cock, knuckles grazing the hard bulge above. "We should. All the. Time. Is that. A threat?"
"Hell yes," Harry said. "Fuck. Too close."
"No. Such thing."
"Too soon. Don't want. Too soon." And I don't want to stop because what if after you change your mind and fuck.
"Close. Too. Just. Tell me. Tell me about. Threat."
"Every morning. We could. Oh." Harry tugged hard with both his hand and his feet, spurting hard over his stomach, wave after wave as he watched Draco watch and bite his lip, glad it was only a moment later that Draco's eyes rolled and he was coming too, coming and then pulling away to flop down next to Harry, spent.
"That," he said, panting, "Is the least effective threat ever."
"You don't want that?"
"Fuck. No, it's a lousy threat. It's a pretty good promise, though."
Harry grinned. "Oh. Right. That's …ow."
"Ow, a lot. Shit. Ow." Harry rolled away, onto his side and up onto all fours. "Shit."
"Ow, like, go get--"
"Yes. Go get Padma. Or someone. Shit, toss me a robe of some sort?"
"She's probably seen worse."
"You are not going to Mungo's like that. But fuck. Get dressed. Fast."
"Is it something wrong?"
"Well, it hurts like a motherfucker, and just go. Oh, wait. Will Brooly take care of …Jasmine in there? Ow! Damn, it's like it's in waves."
Draco nodded, then ran from the room.
Harry gritted his teeth and waited.
When are you coming back?
When they let us out. You could come visit.
Bored to tears, and also sore,
Honestly. There are sick people there. I can't bring Chrysanthemum into that environment!
Home? Seriously? And honestly, Juniper would be fine. She could come see Kate. Whom I notice you haven't been back to see.
Come on. Bored bored bored,
Kate? Please. Esmeralda.
I have been, briefly. You were asleep.
We can name them when we have them both here.
No sign-off? Etiquette! Fine. We'll be home by the time you read this.
"Brooly's been busy, I see."
Draco spun. "Nice. Hi."
"It said turn around." Harry stepped forward, moving slowly still as the wound healed. "And, the Christmas decorations are nice."
"One cannot have a proper family Christmas without wreaths."
"Of course." Harry managed not to roll his eyes, though given his experience with family Christmases, he rather thought having a pleasant general demeanor towards others in the home was really quite enough.
"No. This is smiling. I'm happy."
"So. I've been thinking."
"Always dangerous." Draco said this with a perfectly straight face, but Harry stuck out his tongue.
"You can't call me a snot in front of my daughter!"
"Can if you say thinking is dangerous!"
"Fine. What were you thinking, then?"
"This is Camellia."
"Means some kind of rose, or something, but also means gratitude."
Draco paused. "For?"
"The obvious, I should think. We'd never have organized ourselves."
"I suppose you've named mine, too?"
"I. Maybe? I was thinking maybe Coriander? Means hidden worth."
"What, did you find a florist and poke about in his mind?"
Harry laughed. "No, Hermione brought me a book of names, and when I said we were arguing over flowers, she went and fetched one with flowers."
"You hate it."
"Not feminine enough?"
"What? No. That's not. I …like it, actually."
"You do? For both?"
"I think I do. Though next time, I get to pick the names."
Draco blinked. "I was kidding."
Harry laughed. "I know. Come on. I think they should meet."
"Mine's going to get jealous, you know."
"She'll get over it. She gets a sister out of the deal."
"How did we end up with both girls?"
Harry shrugged. "I've always been good at beating the odds." He wrapped his free arm around Draco's waist and started slowly toward the nursery.