18/19/20/21/22

Chapter Eighteen: Daddy Issues

Draco felt himself being drained and knew that the baby was instinctively cocooning himself in layer after layer of protections. Unfortunately, that left little of anything for Draco to work with. "Father?"

"Why didn't you come home? Why are you here in the hospital wing? What have you been up to?"

Blinking, Draco tried to get all the questions in order and remember all the answers. All the proper answers. Damn, he hadn't been this terrified of his father since he'd incendio'ed the Library back when he was six. The flames had been very pretty, by the way. "I owled about the potions project, didn't I?"

"Is that the reason you're here?"

Yes? Then his father would want the details. No? Then he'd have to come up with a reason. "I don't know." God, that was lame.

"You don't know why you're in the hospital wing? What's wrong with you, boy?"

"I-" Shit. Fuck. He couldn't think. He couldn't lie. When was the last time he couldn't come up with a lie? This was. Bad.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I didn't know you were coming to visit."

Dumbledore. Thank God!

"Headmaster, Harry Potter."

Potter. Oh, shit.

"What is going on with my son? Why is he here? Why is Mr. Potter here?"

"Young Malfoy here passed out. Harry helped him here to the infirmary. He just wants to see how he's doing. Has Madam Pomfrey made a diagnosis yet?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Why would Potter know if my son passed out?"

"Project," Draco said loudly, his thoughts finally clearing. Apparently the baby decided to give him back a few brain cells since Potter and Dumbledore were there to protect him. "Potter and I are working on a project together."

"Potter and you? A potions project together?"

Well, when his father put it like that... "Not potions. Transfiguration. We're working on a secret transfiguration project. A surprise for the end-of-the-year-feast."

His father looked skeptical. "I see. And this-project-caused you to pass out?"

"No, that would be the touch of Wizard's Flu that he has," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling in with a hunk of chocolate. "I thought it was over for the season, but young Malfoy has always been a special one. Must be his-breeding."

Draco watched his father bristle at the implied insult and held back a snicker. Pomfrey never backed down from anyone. It was annoying-except when it wasn't directed at him. "I'll be fine, Father, after a short rest."

"Perhaps I should take you to St. Mungo's for a more competent opinion," Lucius said, sneering at the nurse.

Before Pomfrey could reply, McGonagall strode into the wing. "Poppy, what-" The thin woman stopped, staring at the wing's inhabitants. Her eyes quickly fell on her superior. "Headmaster?"

"Minerva, I'm glad you're here. As you can see, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy's project is going to be delayed slightly. Mr. Malfoy is a bit under the weather."

"Their pro- Of course, Headmaster," she said, surprising Draco with her quickness.

"After all, we wouldn't want to overwork Mr. Malfoy, would we, professor?" Pomfrey added meaningfully. Draco had told her how grueling his transfiguration exam had been when she'd asked about his day. He couldn't lie to the nurse, now could he?

Lucius eyed everyone suspiciously before glaring at his son. Draco made sure his mind was fully shielded. "I would like a moment alone with my son, if that isn't too much to ask?" Lucius said coldly.

Everyone looked at Draco, and he bitterly wondered how he'd ended up in a room with so many obvious Gryffindors. Even if Pomfrey seemed more like a Ravenclaw. "Of course, Father. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would be clearing the room soon anyway. I need my rest." Could she catch the clue?

"I must insist that you don't linger, Mr. Malfoy." Pomfrey said smoothly. "Your son has had enough excitement for one day. Draco, I shall check on you in a few minutes and I expect you to be sleeping."

"Yes, Madam."

His father waited patiently for everyone to leave, then leaned over his son and said, "What is the meaning of this, Draco? Why are you engaging in a project with Potter?"

Draco was ready for the question. "It's the only way I can possibly outscore that mudblood, Granger, Father. McGonagall despises me, as well you know, but she adores Potter. We will receive the same grade on the project. She cannot penalize me without penalizing her favorite student." He gave his father a wicked grin. "By partnering with Potter, I have assured myself of a grade you can be proud of, sir."

"And this is why you've been in private sessions with Potter?"

"Private sessions with- Father, has someone been gossiping about me?" He made sure to rein in his innocent look. Lucius always noticed if he laid it on too thick.

Lucius frowned, but eased off the looming. He stood back from the bed, as if remembering Draco might be contagious. "Just idle school chatter. Nothing for you to worry about. Very well, Draco, I will leave you to your recovery. And I expect to be very pleased by your final grades."

"Yes, sir."

With a swish of his robes, Lucius stalked out.

Draco curled his lip at the departing figure. The grades were going to be spectacular, but he doubted his father would be pleased by anything else at the end of term. In fact, he was going to be about as opposite from pleased as one could get. Not only was his son NOT going to follow in his footsteps, but had also managed to fool him completely. No, Lucius was not going to be a happy man.

That had never bode well in the past.

"The Headmaster will make sure he's gone," Pomfrey said, entering the room to hand him a potion.

Draco nodded. "What is this?" he asked, frowning at the flask whose smoking contents he was supposed to consume.

"Something to calm your nerves."

"I'm not-" He stopped, noticing the smoking contents were about to splash over the sides because his hands were shaking. Okay. Maybe Lucius had unnerved the baby a bit and the brat was imposing his anxiety onto Draco. He downed the potion-for the sake of his child.

"A house elf will be bringing you your pajamas, and I want you to get comfortable." She patted him on the shoulder. "Sleep, Draco," Pomfrey advised. "Everything will be okay."

He changed out of his clothes, then slipped into bed and obediently closed his eyes. But he knew she was wrong. Nothing was okay. His lies had merely bought him a bit of time.

And time had a history of running out just when it was needed.

Harry sat staring at the sleeping Draco. He'd returned to the wing after dinner, needing to see that Draco was all right. He'd had quite the fright earlier. He'd barely reached Dumbledore's office before the older man was shooing him down the stairs and urging him back to the wing. It wasn't until he saw Lucius standing over Draco that he realized why Dumbledore had been in such a rush. The bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

Draco had been amazing. So calm and cool in the face of danger. Gone was the sniveling little coward who'd run in the Forbidden Forest. With the help of their professors, Draco had played Lucius like a violin. If he hadn't been so petrified, Harry would have laughed as Dumbledore's spell allowed them to hear the conversation between the son and father. He knew at that moment that even if he'd been given the choice, he couldn't have chosen a better other parent for a child of his. Draco was brilliant.

And now just as parentless as Harry.

If that was a sobering thought for Harry, he realized how devastating it must have been for Draco earlier. A childhood of expectations, of dreams, soon to be gone. Already gone, actually.

You have quite a heritage to live up to, Draco.

You're going to be just like your father, young man.

You'll be THE Malfoy one day.

Harry was sure Draco had heard all that, just as he'd heard similar things once he'd been introduced to the Wizarding world. But he hadn't had years of listening to it, of dreaming about a future with those images. Now that future was gone, and Draco was going to be surrounded by people who didn't like him, who didn't trust him, who didn't understand him.

Yet, Draco hadn't faltered. He'd lied smoothly to his father's face, had totally given himself over to securing the future he now had, the future which Harry's actions had forced upon him. That took guts...and courage. He chuckled silently. He'd witnessed Draco's inner Gryffindor.

And it had been beautiful.

Maybe...maybe Harry's inner Slytherin wouldn't be so horrible either.

He settled into his chair a little more comfortably and concluded that it wasn't just Draco's future which had changed.

Draco woke suddenly, stiffening when he felt a presence nearby. In the pale glow of candlelight Pomfrey had left about the room, he made out the soft contours of Harry curled up in the squishy chair, glasses dangling dangerously on the end of his nose.

Safe.

Protected.

He fell asleep with his smile still in place.

Chapter Nineteen: Seconds' Opinions

"Are you ready to go, Draco?"

Draco turned from the hospital wing's mirror where he was adjusting his robes. After a good night's sleep, and no exams, he felt better than he had in days. "Here to escort me to my dorm, Professor? It's unnecessary."

Snape shrugged. "As your attendant for this evening's affair, it is expected."

"My attendant? I thought perhaps you had changed your mind after your non-appearance yesterday." Draco was still sore that he'd had to face his father with no Slytherin support.

"I was not informed that there was a problem until after the problem had occurred."

"But I told Potter-" Draco closed his mouth. Of course Potter would have gone to Dumbledore first and Lucius had arrived soon after. Satisfied with his appearance, he started toward the door. Snape held it open for him.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't here, but I heard you handled yourself admirably."

Draco nodded. Desperation was often the source of inspiration. "How did my father get in the wing without anyone knowing?" The hallway was empty and he hoped there were no surprises around the corner.

"If the castle is not told otherwise, it will allow entry to the blood kin of its students. The problem has been corrected."

Draco relaxed his guard marginally. "Good."

"I stopped by the wing briefly before I retired, but you were resting."

"Mc-Professor McGonagall's exam was exhausting."

"So I heard. I have spoken to the Headmaster. You will not participate in any practical applications in any of your classes from now on. You also have permission to miss any theory classes, as well. You have taken your N.E.W.T.s. You are no longer a student at Hogwarts."

Draco halted their progress toward the dungeons. "That doesn't mean I have to leave, does it?"

"You have been named as my teaching assistant. That will give us leeway in figuring out what to do with you this summer."

"As long as I'm safe." Snape looked at him. "And comfortable. I thought that was a given."

"Never assume anything with Gryffindors. And speaking of, when I was in London yesterday, I bought these." Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside were two platinum rings. "So that when the binding fails, you'll still have the safety of marriage. Dumbledore has the authority to perform the legal ceremony."

"Thank you, professor. I will, of course, repay you."

"You are repaying me by not following in your father's footsteps."

"I could have," Draco said as they stepped into his dormitory. "If Father had not taken me to the Revelry..."

"You would have come up with some other excuse. Although you talk excessively and are quick to draw your wand, I have never seen you torture animals or find pleasure in blood sports. You are a bully, a braggart, and a bigot. But none of those make you a Death Eater."

"I'm not the one we have to convince," Draco said fatalistically. He was always going to be suspect in the land of Light.

"Are you sure, Draco? I have watched you set Slytherin House's agenda year after year, bending the will of your Housemates to your will. The 'Weasley is Our King' campaign even went beyond the House. And you have Potter himself catering to your every whim."

"Are you suggesting I let myself get knocked up by every Gryffindor on the side of Light?" Draco interrupted with a sly grin, knowing there was no way his professor was advocating getting intimate with the Gryffindors.

"I'm suggesting that set your mind to being accepted, not rejected. You have the gift of leadership. Use it."

"Now that I'm not going to be a Death Eater, you mean?" Draco joked, uneasy with the compliments of his Head of House. Everyone knew he'd only been able to lead the Slytherins was because of his father. It was reflected power and nothing more. As far as the Weasley thing went, it was funny so of course it was popular. No, Draco Malfoy was just a moon-a moon about to lose its sun. The only way to secure that he had a future was to keep his head low and have a successful pregnancy.

"Now that you don't have your father to use as a crutch."

Draco shot Snape a glare. "So I hear the Headmaster is going to turn my humiliation into a spectacle for the entire staff," he said in order to change the subject.

"Think of them as unimpeachable witnesses to your marriage to a willing Potter."

"So I should make sure he's the one who comes up with the marriage idea after the binding fails."

Snape gave a real smile. "It has been an honor to be a teacher to such an apt pupil."

"And just think, Professor, in eleven years-a Malfoy-Potter." Draco patted his stomach.

The smile faded.

"Roooon! Stop admiring your bloody robes and help me!"

"But, Harry, I've never had robes so nice," Ron said, fingering the fine fabric. Black, trimmed in red and gold. Formal Gryffindor robes. "This is a great gift, mate! You know, if it wasn't your wedding day, I wouldn't accept."

"But this is my bloody wedding day and I can't fix this bloody tie thing, so come over here and help me!" Harry stared at the offending piece of white satin. Everything was bloody white. His very high and very stiff-collared shirt. The brocaded vest. The white trousers with the satin seam down the side. And of course, the stupid ascot!

"Here you go, mate." Ron wrangled the cloth into something resembling an ascot, then shoved in the diamond tie-pin.

Harry looked in the mirror and figured it was still wrong, but at least it was on. Now all he had to do was don the white robes that completed the ensemble. And comb his hair.

Maybe he should just get a buzz cut, leaving just a single dark curl to cover the you-know-what.

God, where was Hermione when he needed her? Oh, yeah, doing all those frilly things girls liked to do when they had to dress up.

"So, you're sure the wards have been changed? No scary Death Eaters are going to show up at the ceremony?"

Yesterday's run-in was the first thing he'd told Ron and Hermione about when they arrived. "Dumbledore said he made sure only invited guests would attend."

"Mum's going to have a fit, you know. The first of her boys getting married and she's not even invited."

Harry paled. "I'm sorry I'm disappointing her. Under normal circumstances-"

"But there's nothing normal about this, is there?" Ron questioned shrewdly. "And I'm not talking about Malfoy not being a girl, but Malfoy being Malfoy. And preggers. Only Harry Potter would poke a bloke and end up a dad."

"'Poke a bloke'?" Harry laughed, leaning against the wall to keep from rolling in the floor and messing up his clothes. Then he sobered. "Oh, God. I am going to be a dad. I don't know how to be a dad, Ron. I've never had a dad. And I'm really fucked up, you know? I grew up in a cupboard. I'm either going to be murdered or become a murderer. I ra-" He shut his mouth quickly. "I don't know anything about babies. I've never been a big brother or babysat or- Fuck all, Ron-I've never even held one of the little buggers!"

"Well, if the neck doesn't break, then you've supported the head properly," Ron said.

"Neck break! Their little necks break?" Harry's mouth hung open in horror.

Ron laughed. "Relax, Harry. Both me and Ginny survived Fred and George, so babies can't be all that fragile. I was just teasing you."

"Yeah, Fred and George, right. But they had your mum to guide them."

"You have her, too, Harry. Any child of yours she will certainly consider a grandchild, so she'll have advice-whether you want it or not."

"I want it," Harry mumbled with a note of desperation.

"But what about the ferret? He might not want a Weasley 'tainting' his heir."

That was a good possibility. Or maybe Draco wouldn't want to have anything to do with direct raising of the child. Did people as rich as the Malfoys actually participate in the day-to-day care of a baby? Was Draco expecting to hire a house-elf or nanny? God, he didn't know what Draco thought about childcare. They hadn't- They were about to be bound and they- What were they thinking? They couldn't do this. They barely knew each other and what they knew, they didn't like.

"I can't do this."

Ron brushed an imaginary speck from his robes. "Can't do what?"

"Go through with this binding. Raise a child. None of it."

Ron shrugged. "Barn door's open. Horse is gone. Nothing to it, but to go on from there."

"But-"

Ron turned and Harry could swear he saw Mrs. Weasley instead of her son. "But nothing, Harry. Get over yourself and start thinking about your family-Malfoy and the baby. You've been a man since I met you, mate. Now is not the time to start having doubts."

Harry blinked at his friend. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're absolutely right, Ron. I'm sorry for falling apart like that."

"You're entitled. It's not every day a Potter binds himself to a Malfoy. Oh, Merlin, now I'm petrified," Ron moaned.

Swiping harmlessly at his friend's head, Harry went to look in the mirror one last time. If he squinted real hard, he no longer saw the tattered little waif he'd been the first night at Hogwarts. A man stood before him, aged not only by what had been done to him...and for him (God, he would always hear his mother's cries, even without Dementors being nearby), but by what he'd seen, what he'd done, what he still had to do. Then he relaxed his eyes and the man disappeared. Instead, there was just Harry Potter-overdressed, uncomfortable, and smiling at himself like an idiot.

The ascot was still wrong, however, and he had the perfect solution to that.

"Let's go bother Hermione."

Chapter Twenty: In Full Accordance Of My Own Will And Desire

"Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco stared at his Head of House. He was dressed in his finest robes, his hair was done impeccably, and he knew what he was supposed to say when he stood in front of Dumbledore and the assembled witches and wizards. But he was far from ready. "What the fuck am I doing?" he whispered to himself.

Apparently he didn't whisper as softly as he thought because Snape answered him. "Saving yourself and the Malfoy line."

Was that enough of a reason to marry Harry Potter? The same Potter who had rejected him, hexed him, been the constant thorn in his side for nearly seven years. Was this the best solution? Couldn't he just-run away and hope for the best?

"I did not think well of this course of action when you first confessed to me," Snape said. "I thought it extreme and desperate. However, upon later review I saw the inherent strength in your plan. You are securing an alliance through the confluence of blood in the form of offspring. Your plan honors the traditions of Wizardry. Your House, which now includes not only future Malfoys, but Parkinsons, Zabinis, Crabbes, et al, will be held in esteem for its dedication to the code by which all of us should live. You have done yourself proud, Draco. I'm honored to stand with you today."

Draco stared at his professor. He looked sincere, but the man was a spy-looking sincere while lying your arse off was a tool of the trade. But. There was no reason to lie, no reason to butter up to him. He was nothing these days. Not Lucius's son. Not the Malfoy heir. Nothing but a sprogged up freak who'd allowed himself-no, to be honest-who'd set himself up to be Harry Potter's bitch. Why would Snape try to curry his favor? Why would Snape say he was honored...unless he really was?

Well...shit.

Draco squared his shoulders and followed Snape into the hallway.

Harry opened the door to Dumbledore's office hesitantly, until four hands against his back propelled him inside. After glaring backwards at his so-called friends, he looked around the room, surprised only to see Dumbledore there. The master wizard was in surprisingly tame (and diplomatic) gold robes, trimmed in green.

"Hello, Harry. You're looking very smart."

"Um, you, too, Headmaster. Am I early or something?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No, you're right on time. The others are waiting inside." He gestured with his hand and Harry saw a set of double doors he hadn't seen before-doors that hadn't been there before. Oh, great. Now the castle itself was getting into the act. "We'll wait here for-oh, here they are now. Right on time, gentlemen."

Harry turned to see Draco and Snape enter the office. Snape was dressed similarly to Ron, except for Slytherin trim. Draco was, supposedly, dressed just like Harry-except Harry knew he didn't look as good. The white of the robes accented Draco's coloring, making his eyes more silver and his hair more...just more. "Draco," he whispered, not even fully aware he was speaking.

"Harry."

They shared a look, then both looked at Dumbledore.

"Time to get started," the older wizard said. "I'll go in, then Miss Granger afterwards." He smiled at Hermione who was also dressed in formal robes, although hers were more form-fitting than the men's. "The four of you will follow. All right?"

They nodded and the doors parted magically, revealing rows of occupied chairs. Music started playing and the guests stood. Dumbledore started a slow walk down the aisle, smiling and nodding to his faculty. When he reached the end, he stood and beckoned for Hermione. She hoisted a staff from Dumbledore's desk and a banner unfurled, half depicting Gryffindor's Coat of Arms and the other half, Slytherin's. Proudly, she held the staff upright as she walked down the aisle.

Harry felt a moment of panic, and without thinking about it, he reached out for Draco's hand. He was even too numb to be surprised when warm fingers interlaced with his, and he was only aware that he was walking after a hissed, "Posture," from Snape.

They and Dumbledore ascended a small dais. In the center of the platform was a pedestal holding an orb of light with a coil of golden rope in its center. The rope writhed as if it was a living thing and Harry shivered.

"My friends, I am pleased to be standing in front of you today to officiate at a ceremony that has never been held at Hogwarts. Today, you and I are here to witness the binding of two of our students, a Unitas Binding. As you are aware, a binding is a sacred event, for there can be nothing more sacrosanct than the union of magic to magic by Magic itself. Harry, Draco, are you here by force, falsehood, or folly?"

"No, Headmaster."

"No, sir."

"Can you verify that, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, sir. Harry is here of his own free will."

"Professor Snape?"

"Draco is here of his own free will."

"Gentlemen, please turn to the Orbis Magus to make your requests."

Harry went first since Draco, as the person who mentioned the binding first, was in the role of the suitor. Therefore Harry was the one whose petition was the most iffy and if he couldn't continue, then Draco's solicitation would be worthless.

Magic was sometimes very practical.

Harry pushed up his glasses and faced the glowing ball. "Sum of All Magic, I, Harry Potter, do beseech you to search my mind, my heart and my soul, and harnessing the power of the truths unveiled and laid bare, unite all that I am to Draco Malfoy. This I so ask, in full accordance of my own will and desire." He quickly glanced at Draco, then looked at his feet.

"Sum of All Magic, I, Draco Malfoy, do beseech you to search my mind, my heart and my soul, and harnessing the power of the truths unveiled and laid bare, unite all that I am to Harry Potter. This I so ask, in full accordance of my own will and desire."

When Harry looked up again, Draco was staring at him and there was something almost sad in his gaze. Before he could figure it out, there was a gasp from the audience and twin nodules of light shot out of the orb. They swirled around Draco and him, weaving a dense curtain of pulsating sparks. It was strange, but Harry felt no malevolence in the light that was blocking him from seeing the rest of the room. In fact, he felt calm, at peace. He smiled at Draco who was sharing the small column of privacy. Draco smiled back.

Then, the two nodules which had formed the column floated in between the two of them. As they watched, the nodules exploded, blinding them. When vision returned, Harry saw that the light around them was gone. He looked quickly at Draco, but Draco wasn't paying him any attention. Instead, the wizard was staring at the braided rope around his left wrist. Harry looked at his own wrist and saw that it was similarly adorned. Touching it, he found it to be some kind of soft metal, maybe?

"As so it has been ordained by Magic, so it must be," Dumbledore said, his arms outstretched. "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have been examined by Magic and found flawless in their devotion to each other. Magic has made hallow their union by placing upon their persons visible ties, warnings that it will not tolerate interference in what it has made one. You, as witnesses, are hereby charged to protect this union, to administer to its care, to defend it against detractors, deceivers, and disputants. Signal your understanding by saying, 'we heed the wisdom of Magic'."

"We heed the wisdom of Magic," the audience said in unison.

Dumbledore smiled. "Witches and wizards, I present to you the bound pair of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter."

Draco was in shock. The binding-had worked. How? Why? As he stood in the receiving line, shaking hands of people who DID NOT LIKE HIM, he pondered all the imponderables and couldn't figure out if he'd been blessed or screwed. He just didn't know.

"Ask Potter to dance."

He looked blankly at his Head of House, who had been standing protectively behind him and avoiding any and all handshakes.

"You need to lead the first dance, then you can fall apart," Snape told him, rather gently for Snape.

"Okay." He turned to where Potter was standing on his left. Years of training served him well. "Harry, may I have this dance?"

Those who overheard tittered with delight. Draco felt rather nauseated.

"I'm not very good at dancing," Harry warned.

"I am. Just follow me, okay?"

Harry nodded and he guided him out to the floor of the Great Hall which was where their reception was being held. A reception. Dumbledore had gone all out for his golden boy. Well, if he had to be bound to someone, at least it was someone with good connections.

The string quartet drew the song to a close and Draco couldn't even remember dancing.

"You look flushed."

Draco realized he was tired. "I think I'll sit the next one out. Go ask one of the female professors to dance."

"What? I don't know how to dance, remember?"

"Pretend you're me. And don't count under your breath."

"Can I start with Hermione first?"

Draco shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going to sit down."

"You okay?"

"Long day." Long week. Long month.

He sank into one of the banquet chairs that had replaced the usual benches. Ah. Relief.

"Here."

He reached up and took the cup of punch offered by Snape. "Thank you."

"Quite a coup you pulled off." Snape took the seat beside him and sipped on his own full cup of punch.

"Wish I knew how."

"It's simple. You asked Magic to look inside you and it found something you'd apparently hidden from yourself. Understandable if you take into consideration the outside pressure both you and Potter were under to hate each other. When we are young, we are easily influenced. As we age, however-and if we are quite lucky-we discover who we truly are. Or, as you and Potter are concerned, an outside force looks inside and tells you the truth about yourself. You are loved, Draco. Enjoy it."

Draco eyed his Head of House cautiously. "You seem to be taking this well."

Snape's lips thinned in a parody of a smile. "I spiked the punch with a calming potion."

Draco stared at him, flabbergasted by Snape's audacity.

Then he tossed back the whole cup.

Chapter Twenty-One: Draco And Harry Forever

Snape got them both a refill and sat again. "I learned long ago to never question the wisdom of Magic. It gains you nothing."

Draco nodded. And drank.

"You can live with this."

Draco nodded again. He really didn't have a choice, did he? And the Plan was still proceeding-just differently from what he'd envisioned. In fact, if he looked on the bright side, it was a better Plan. Now, he was protected by more than just the baby. He wasn't just the parent of Potter's child; he was Potter's bondmate and the Light couldn't interfere, couldn't get rid of him after the baby was born, couldn't push Potter to get rid of him. The Light was just as bound as he and Potter. You, as witnesses, are hereby charged to protect this union, to administer to its care, to defend it against detractors, deceivers, and disputants. Ha!

"You're smiling. Did I add too much potion?"

"Just trying to 'live with it', Professor."

Snape grunted, but said no more. They sat quietly as the musicians switched from classical to more popular tunes, Draco absently fingering his new "bracelet" and Snape keeping them well-supplied with punch. It seemed-fitting-to sit there brooding with his professor. In fact, it was the only fitting moment he'd had all day.

Bound to Harry Potter. He shook his head. It was truly inconceivable. Sure, he'd thought about shagging Potter. Hell, ninety percent of the school had thought about that. But for the binding to occur, there had to be more than just lust. There had to be-he shuddered-affection...love. Magic had found love inside him for Potter? And vice-versa? That was so wrong. Maybe it was the baby. He was destined to be a powerful being and maybe he wanted his parents to be together. Infant magic was wild and incredibly pure. Convincing Magic itself that his parents loved each other was probably pretty easy.

Way easier than accepting that he might-might-have feelings for Potter.

"Severus, dance with me."

They both looked up at McGonagall. Her expression made it clear she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I'd be delighted, Minerva."

Draco took a sip of punch to hide his amused snort.

"Malfoy. Or I guess it should be Draco now."

"Whatever, Granger," Draco replied as the girl took the just vacated seat. Leave it to a Gryffindor to ruin a good brood. He hoped Snape had brewed the extra strength version of the calming potion.

"Why aren't you dancing?"

"I just got out of the hospital wing this morning."

"Right." Pause. "The weather's nice this time of year."

"Yes."

She tsked like a fishwife. "For Harry's sake we need to get along. You can start any time you feel like it."

He sighed. Anything was better than Voldemort, right? "Thank you for being our standard bearer today."

"It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, although I didn't know it at the time. So, is that the standard of your new household?"

"What is?"

"That." She pointed at the banner. Instead of the two coats of arms, it was now one with the griffin and snake intertwined.

Almost suggestively.

"When did that happen?"

"When you two disappeared behind that screen of light."

"Interesting." His mother would die if she knew he was doing such a bad job at small talk. Then again, she'd die if she knew he was trying to make small talk with a mudblood.

"So now that we're practically best mates," she said dryly, "tell me how you did it."

"'How I did it?' Which 'it' are you referring to?" he asked, feeling rather comfortable reinstating his Malfoy sneer. He could always tell Potter she had started it-and he'd actually be telling the truth.

"You and Harry shouldn't have been able to bind."

"And you think I what-performed some dark magic ritual right under the watchful eye of not only the Headmaster, but every professor at Hogwarts? Gee, Granger, I didn't know you thought I was so powerful."

"You had to do something. According to all the books, two people can only bind if they are really in love."

"Then you have your answer."

She rolled her eyes and huffed. "I'm still not sure what you did to make this possible," she muttered, obviously giving up the fight for now.

Draco was too tired to keep the fight going on his own. "Harry and I are now bound, and you yourself vowed to heed the wisdom of Magic. I'd say it was time you got over whatever it is that bothers you about me."

She had the decency to look ashamed. "Good party," she said gamely.

He shrugged. "Courtesy of my new in-law-Dumbledore."

"I guess he is sort of like Harry's family. So are the Weasleys."

Like that was a big secret. "Yes, I know."

"I'm part of Harry's family as well. If you're just using him-"

Draco waggled his wrist in front of her, the binding bracelet glittering in the candlelight.

That shut her up briefly. Then she sighed. "You and the baby are important to Harry, so you're important to me. Harry says you're worried about what's going to happen once your father and the other side find out you've defected. Harry and the Headmaster won't let anything happen to you. And...I'll help any way I can."

Draco nodded. She was a mudblood, but also one of the smartest the Light side had. And help was help. "Thank you."

"Hermione!" Ron came and stood behind her chair. "Malfoy."

"Weasley."

"Wanna dance, Hermione? Finally a song I recognize."

"Sure. It was nice talking to you, Draco."

He nodded and distracted himself by looking at Snape who'd been snagged by Madam Hooch. It seemed his professor could benefit from a rhythm potion.

"Hey."

Potter. Good. He needed another cup of punch. "Refill this for me."

"Hermione said you sounded depressed or something," Harry said as he handed over the fresh cup.

"Tired."

"Madam Pomfrey said you needed your rest."

"I agree. Walk me to the dungeons?" He was about to fall asleep and Malfoys never fell asleep in public.

He knew something was up when Potter turned an interesting shade of red. "Professor Dumbledore has given us a room for the night. The honeymoon suite, he called it. I don't know why. I mean, he knows."

Knows it was all a sham. All the professors knew about the pregnancy, but only Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and Snape knew it was the result of a rape. "Yes, well, the old coot has never played snap with a full deck of cards, has he? Just show me where it is. You can come back here if you want."

Potter reached out to help him up. As a testament to how tired he was, Draco didn't complain. "I'm tired, too. Been on pins and needles all day."

"Not to mention sleeping in a chair all night."

Another blush. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Thanks."

After endless goodbyes, they left and Draco was grateful that the room was apparently on the same floor. He wasn't sure he could tackle even one flight of stairs.

"'Draco and Harry forever.'"

Draco rolled his eyes at the password, but was pleased to see the room itself. A very large canopied bed. Pajamas laid out on a light duvet. He walked over to a door. Better bathroom than the prefects had. Too bad he was so tired. He picked up a pair of the pajamas and went into the bathroom. Five minutes later, he was came out and saw Potter messing with the bracelet on his wrist.

"It can't be removed. Even if you cut off your hand."

Potter looked horrified. "Someone actually tried?"

"Someone's ex-girlfriend thought the binding was in error. She slipped the man a potion, then attempted to cut off his hand. The bracelet still wouldn't move from his wrist. Her scream of frustration woke the rest of the house. The man slept through it all and when his bondmate touched his wrist, the hand grew back."

"What happened to the ex-girlfriend?"

"She died."

Potter gave him a look. "You mean they killed her."

"There wasn't a 'they' involved. Magic does not look kindly upon anyone messing with it improperly. She was found skinned in a room locked from the outside with two guards on duty. Inside there was no knife and no blood. You figure it out."

"Fuck."

"Magic can be used for good or bad, but it cannot lie, Harry. Its warnings and its truths should always be heeded."

"So this means?" He plucked at the bracelet.

"That magic considers us one entity. Neither of us can ever be with anyone else."

"You, um, you mean...sexually?"

Draco thought Harry did the shy blush thing quite well. "Yes."

"Oh."

Draco didn't particularly appreciate Potter's disappointed tone. "Someone you wanted to fuck, Potter? Sorry, too late. Should have done so last night. Unless you want to see what the Weasel or mudblood look like skinned alive," he said bitterly. Damn, he should have brought some punch with him. Maybe a house-elf could...

"Don't call them that and no, I don't want to-God, I can't even think about doing something like that with them," Potter said with a shudder. "They're like my sibs."

"Then who? That bitch you panted after fifth year, Cho Chang?"

"She wasn't a bitch-and no. There's nobody in particular I'd like to...have sex with. I just wanted to do it at least once, you know, voluntarily." He ducked his head and yanked off his shoes.

Draco looked at him, wondering what the hell he was going on about. That didn't make any sense. Why would he- He rolled his eyes as he realized what Potter was thinking. Of all the- "Listen, Potter, if you think I'm going to be celibate for the rest of my life, you've got more wrong with your head than a fucking scar."

Potter looked at him with sad green eyes. "Draco, sometimes you still flinch even when I warn you I'm going to touch you."

Damn weakness. "I'll get over it in a bit. Besides, I won't be pregnant forever. All I need is a few firewhiskys to relax a bit." And there were several potions that he could take if that didn't work. His Plan did not entail him getting pregnant and losing the true use of his dick, too. Fuck it, at this rate he might as well buy some frilly pants and a bra. "We'll have sex one day, Potter, lots of sex-after the application of every known contraceptive spell, potion, and/or charm, of course."

"Okay," Potter said hesitantly. "But only when you're ready." He stood and headed for the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he heard Potter come out of the bathroom and- "Potter, if you don't get your arse out of that squishy chair and into this bed, I'm going to hex you as soon as I wake up." It was one thing for the idiot to sleep in the chair when there was only a single dormitory bed, but it was another when all four of his usual roommates could have fit across the mattress. In fact. the bed was so damn huge, he sensed rather than felt when Harry slid under the covers.

Besides, it was their "wedding" night. "Comfortable?"

"Yes." Potter was scrunched onto the very edge of the bed.

"If you fall out because you're a stupid prat, I will transfigure a squishy chair of my own and bash you over the head with it."

Harry immediately scooted closer to the center.

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Draco."

Draco gave a short, satisfied hum and went to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Real and Unreal

Harry watched Draco sleep. Despite the long day and restless night, he himself lay wide awake, fully conscious of the fact that he was in bed with his-husband, mate, whatever the hell Draco was now. In bed with-but not sleeping with. Despite Draco's earlier assurance of "lots of sex," Harry was pretty sure that was just typical Malfoy boasting. In his opinion, there were at least three things standing in the way of that being true: Draco was still, and might always be, affected by the rape; Draco was pregnant, which would probably keep him cranky during the pregnancy, and make him think twice about sex after the delivery; and Draco was Draco: once he thought about the actuality of having sex with Harry Potter... Well, according to the Weasley twins, wizarding porn was almost as good as the real thing. That and an agile hand.

He sighed, then stilled as Draco's mouth twitched and the blond rolled toward him. He truly was a beautiful man. It was a good thing he had a nasty disposition; otherwise he'd be mobbed every time he moved. Maybe that was Fate's way of evening the score for those like Harry. Yeah, right, Fate being fair. It was common knowledge at Hogwarts that Fate was a bitch, but this was almost laughable. Draco-the arsehole that had made six and a half years at Hogwarts a pure hell for him every day-well, maybe not every day and Voldemort certainly had played a large part of everything that had gone wrong... Okay, Draco hadn't been his major pain in the arse, but a pain in the arse no less, and now he was-they were bound and having a child. It sounded a little like those shows Aunt Petunia liked to watch when he was doing her household chores.

Moonlight fell through the window and he wondered if it was real or just a charmed image. Sometimes that was an aspect of magic he didn't like-the lack of separation between real and unreal. At times the ceiling in the Great Hall creeped him out. Like a skylight, but not. And if it could be charmed to show the real sky, that meant it could be charmed to show whatever the charmer wanted it to show. It was like-fake nature. The Muggle-born got it when someone complained about it, but those brought up in magic never understood what the problem was.

And that was the problem itself.

Draco, his hair bathed in the real/unreal moonlight, would laugh himself silly, or most probably just sneer, if he knew what Harry was thinking about. Draco would ever understand that there were some things magic shouldn't mess with. Like the sky. The moonlight. Their relationship. In a world devoid of magic, he'd never have a chance with a guy like Draco. Someone like Draco wouldn't have taken the time to piss on a burning Harry if magic hadn't taken everything out of their control. They were together because of a magically-induced rape leading to a magical pregnancy. It wasn't real, but Draco didn't see it that way. Even if their relationship went back to the combative way it had been, Draco would never leave Harry, would never turn his back on what magic had decreed. He was stuck with a scar-headed killer or murder victim. When he should have had a prince or something.

So he had a lot to make up for with Draco. If Draco didn't want to have sex, they wouldn't have sex. If Draco wanted a staff of house-elves, he'd get house-elves. If he wanted to be treated nicely by Harry's friends, he'd be treated nicely-or the offenders wouldn't be Harry's friends anymore. If he wanted his Slytherin friends to hang around all day, they'd hang around. He'd give him everything money could buy and he'd try not to be so "Gryffindor" when it came to heading full speed into dangerous situations.

He wanted Draco not to always regret being bound to him.

He just wanted Draco to be happy.

Draco awakened in a strange, but highly comfortable, bed. Then he remembered it was his "marriage" bed. He and Harry Potter had been bound yesterday. Life definitely had a sense of humor.

"Potter? Harry?"

Potter stuck his head out of the bathroom door. "You awake?"

"Yes, and I have to pee."

"Oh." Potter scooted out of the door and out of the way.

Minutes later, Draco came out and flung himself across the bed. "This is still the Easter holidays, right?"

"Right."

"Wake me in an hour or two."

"Um..."

Draco turned over to look at him. "Don't tell me Pansy's damn schedule prohibits me from going back to sleep."

"Not Pansy: Madam Pomfrey. She says you need to have breakfast every day. You're too skinny."

"Too skinny? Look!" He pulled up his pajama top, exposing his stomach. "Look at this lump of fat!"

Harry shook his head. "That's not fat, Draco. It's the baby."

Draco stared at his stomach. The baby. Right. Why hadn't he figured that out? Of course it was the baby.

"Draco? What's wrong?" Harry sat on the bed beside him.

"Fuck it, I'm pregnant," he said, not caring about the awe in his voice.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to understand. "It's real now that you're showing, isn't it?"

Draco shook his head. "It was always real, but I could just...put it aside for long periods of time. Now, I'm going to be lugging it around wherever I go. Life in Egypt is over, Harry."

He watched with a secret smirk as Potter figured that one out. For a moment, he wondered if growing up with muggles had left the wizard with no knowledge of the Nile and foreign lands. Who knew what passed for education among that kind?

Harry reached out tentatively until Draco nodded. Then he placed his hand on the baby lump. "We can do this, you know."

"Yeah. I'm a Malfoy: I can do anything. But..."

"But?"

"Shit. A baby, Harry. I don't know anything about babies. I'm an only child. The only baby I've ever known is me."

"Well, I knew my cousin Dudley. And I can guarantee that our child won't turn out like him."

"How can you make a guarantee like that?"

"Because, although he might get spoiled rotten, we won't overlook his faults. And we won't be afraid to tell each other when one of us is allowing him to get away with too much. Sometimes I think my aunt knew that Dudley was getting up to mischief, but she was too afraid of confronting Uncle Vernon. Sometimes I wonder if I was part of that fear."

"What do you mean?"

"I-I wasn't wanted. Dumbledore sorta bribed them to keep me. Maybe-maybe Aunt Petunia put up with Vernon's shit all those years because she was afraid Vernon would kick me out."

Draco frowned. "If they didn't want you, why didn't you live somewhere else? You were the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm sure most Wizarding families would have welcomed you with open arms."

Harry shrugged. "It was a blood protection thing, keeping me safe from Voldemort. But it didn't keep me safe from Vernon or Dudley."

"What-what did they do to you?" Draco asked hesitantly. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Vernon hates magic, hates the very idea that magic exists. They never told me my parents were Wizards, that they were important people. They told me they died in a car crash and that's how I got my scar. They told me I owed them because they'd been kind enough to take me in-as if they were doing anything else with the cupboard under the stairs."

The cupboard again. "Why do you keep mentioning this cupboard?"

"It was my room until I came to Hogwarts."

"It was your WHAT?"

Harry shook his head and absently rubbed Draco's belly. "I grew up in a cupboard, Draco. I was no more than a house-elf to my aunt and uncle and a punching bag for Dudley and his friends."

"But-but," Draco sputtered, "you like muggles."

"And I like most Wizards, even though Voldemort is one. Labeling a group because some of its members aren't fit to be around is just wrong. Vernon hates me because I'm a wizard and he hates wizards. I don't want to be like Vernon. I don't want to be like Voldemort."

"You hated me because I was a Slytherin," Draco pointed out.

"No, I hated you because you treated Ron like Dudley treated me. And then I hated you because Ron hated you. That was wrong, but by the time I grew old enough to figure that out, you and I had a history of mutual hatred, and I was too stubborn to give that up.

"I hate the reason why I was forced to get over myself, but I'm glad I did. It's nice to have family that's mine and not borrowed from someone else."

Draco felt something well in his throat, but figured it was just gas from Potter petting his stomach. "You mentioned breakfast? Let me go get dressed." He stood, then turned to look at Harry still sitting on the bed. "I don't like muggles, Harry. But I won't undermine whatever you teach our son about them. However, I suggest for your muggle family's sake, you keep them far away him. And while they're at it, they might as well keep the hell away from you, too."

"When I turned seventeen, I was officially free of them. I won't be going back and I won't be exposing my son to them."

"Good. Because if they hated your magic, I'm quite fucking sure they wouldn't want to tangle with mine."

Forty-five minutes later Draco found himself seated at the Gryffindor table. Remarkably he found he had an appetite anyway.

"How did your N.E.W.T.s go, Draco?" Hermione asked, apparently continuing with that whole "let's get along for Harry's sake" idea.

"Can't say-literally. Charmed to keep my mouth shut."

"Oh, of course. So the professors won't have to write new questions. Will you still be attending lectures?"

"Professor Snape says it's optional. But I suspect I'll get bored without somewhat regular attendance."

Weasley's mouth dropped open. "You can skive off classes and you're just going to waste it?"

"What do you expect me to do, Weasley? Sit in the dorm by myself and practice the Dark Arts?" he replied dryly. Jam. He needed jam. Next to Potter, of course. Did he have to go through Potter for everything he wanted? "Pass the jam, Harry."

"Ron didn't mean anything by his comment," Harry said softly as he handed over the container.

"I didn't either."

"Oh."

This was going to be a looong life, and he didn't mean in a good way. Thank God his friends were coming back soon.

"Anybody want to go flying after we finish?" Weasley asked, apparently trying to make amends.

"Draco?" Potter asked, also attempting to make up for prior stupidity.

"Madam Pomfrey has put me on 'no flying' restriction." Potter looked like he was going to say something lame. "But you go ahead. It's time I headed back to the dungeons anyway. Mid-morning nap and all that."

"Didn't you just get up?" Ron asked, puzzled.

Hermione punched him in the arm. "Draco's condition," she hissed.

"Oh. Sorry," Ron said with a shrug. "I don't know much about being preggers."

"Join the club," Draco said dryly. "All I know is that apparently I skipped the upchucking stage, praise Merlin for small favors."

"There's not much information on Progenitor pregnancies," Hermione said knowingly. "I hope you're helping Madam Pomfrey to document this event. It might be a good idea for you to keep a journal of your experience."

Draco shared a quick look with Harry. It wasn't like he was doing anything with the journal Potter had given him anyway. "I'll think about it. Have fun on the pitch, Harry." That was the proper thing for a newly bound partner to say, right?

"Thanks, Draco. Do you want me to wake you for lunch?"

"What? That's not on Pansy's schedule?" Draco did a poor job of appearing shocked and Harry laughed, while the other two just looked confused.

"Have a nice nap, Draco." Potter raised a hand to clasp it on Draco's shoulder, but hesitated until Draco gave a slight nod. "I'll see you in a bit, then." He and Weasley walked out, talking animatedly.

"Weasley's handling this better than I thought," Draco mused to Hermione, who stood when he did.

"He's a pureblood; apparently all animosity must stop when there's a baby involved."

"Is that not the way it is for your kind?" Draco winced when he realized how that sounded. Well, at least he hadn't specifically stated, "mudblood."

"Muggles, and therefore Muggle-borns, I suppose, don't necessarily equate being pregnant with an automatic marriage proposal."

At least she didn't sound offended. "But- that's barbaric. To force a child to suffer because of the sins of its parents."

They started out of the Hall together. "Being a bastard is not considered so bad in the Muggle world."

"You aren't teased about not having a father or being unwanted?"

"I'm sure some people are attacked by the truly ignorant, but-"

"But nothing. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay in the Wizarding world, where my son will have both his fathers and he can earn the names he'll be called-not just inherit them."

Hermione sighed. "This is an argument I know I can't win, so I'm not even going to try. Have a good nap, Draco. I'm headed to the library for a bit of research. If I find out anything about Progenitors, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Gr-Hermione. See you at lunch?"

She waved and he continued toward the dungeons alone. If only his father could see him now: bound to Harry Potter, having conversations with mudbloods, pregnant with the Potter heir...

Now that, he thought to himself, was an acceptable way of being a bastard.