Author/Artist: Akiko88/Ami88
Title: Felix Felicis
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What if Harry decided to use the Felix Felicis sooner?
Warnings (if any): Mpreg, language, AU
Total word count: 5920
Original prompt request :

Era: AU 6th year
Additions: Felix Felicis, Slughorn the supportive, poisoned mead
Scenario: Harry decides to drink the Felix Felicis a lot sooner, gets the memory from Slughorn and then, deciding he is going to figure out what Malfoy does, takes a turn in the direction of the Room of Requirement, acquires some booze on his way and… he doesn't remember the rest of his evening. A few months later, when Harry accidentally barges in on Malfoy in Myrtle's bathroom, he finds him not only crying but crying and puking out his guts. Sectumsempra can be switched to a different unknown spell if you think it is too bloody – and Snape doesn't get there in time, so Harry transfers Malfoy to Madam Pomfrey and gets some interesting news.
Squicks: lubricating spells
Maximum rating: any

Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended./small

Author's/artist's notes (if any): This was written for the hd_inspired community fest of 2008.
Beta(s): Thank you, Tacuma811, for making this story readable. And also for supporting me throughout the challenge!

Felix Felicis

Harry Potter was lying in his bed, his arms stretched out behind his head. From the crack between his curtains he could see the morning glow as it slowly lit the frost that covered the entire window. House-elves hadn't turned the heating on yet since it was too early for that, leaving the room too cold to walk around in. Sometimes his dorm mates kidded around, saying that the cold was a way to secure everyone to their beds.

At the moment Harry wasn't paying any attention to the nippy air of the dormitory. His mind was replaying Dumbledore's words. He had to think of a plan to obtain Professor Slughorn's memory, the real one this time. Evidently simply asking him wasn't going to work. Slughorn apparently found it necessary to obscure that memory as he was going to great length to try and hide it. It made Harry curious; he burned with desire to know what that memory contained. What were these Horcruxes, he wondered, what made them so special and important?

Another thing that haunted his mind – or rather who – was Draco Malfoy. Harry desperately wanted to find out what the Slytherin was up to. He was absolutely certain that he was up to no good. It irritated him that his friends wouldn't even believe him that Malfoy was a Death Eater. And that Dumbledore seemed to know a lot more then he was letting on, was making his head tilt with the possibilities. At their last conversation his reaction seemed strange; it was unusual for Dumbledore to react in such an angry way.

A snore from the bed next to him woke Harry from his thoughts. He laughed softly; well now he knew for certain that Ron was still fast asleep. The only downside to a snoring Ron was that although he was asleep the rest of them weren't anymore. His friend's snores had about the same effect as jumping in the Great Lake in the middle of winter. It seemed that Ron forgot to spell his curtains with iSilencio/i. His friend was lucky that Harry was awake, he thought. He grabbed his wand, pulled the curtain out of the way and silently uttered the Silencing Charm towards his friend's bed. The charm cut the sound of Ron mid-snore off abruptly.

Harry placed his wand on top of his nightstand and lay back down. Suddenly he frowned.

Ron was lucky.

Lucky.

Lucky?

His mind was racing at the thought. His face brightened as he quickly sat up. That was it. He could use the Felix Felicis! He crawled over his bed, peeked out from the end and started rummaging through his trunk. With the sock containing the bottle of luck potion, he crawled back under the covers and shivered. Harry was suddenly acutely aware of the penetrating cold air that hung like a mist around the room.

Making sure that all the curtains were shut tightly, Harry released the bottle from its confinement. Grabbing his wand once more he murmured a Lumos under his breath. The Felix Felicis glittered a brilliant golden in the small beam of light. He rolled the small bottle in his hand, and rubbed slightly against the glass with his thumb. He grinned in the dim, his glasses reflecting the sheen of gold. He could use the potion to get the memory from Slughorn.

He had to be careful, though. If he drank the entire bottle he would have approximately 12 hours of luck. Which would be enough for a day. But if he desperately needed it in another situation, he wouldn't have anything left at all. With that in mind, Harry concluded that he would only use a little. Just enough to get the memory and get out.

The only problem that was left was how Harry could get the memory without looking suspicious. He couldn't take the potion just before class was to start and ask Professor Slughorn after class. He'd tried that already. Slughorn would be expecting that. He couldn't try to take the memory at one of the Slug Club meetings either, as there hadn't been any since he asked about the Horcruxes. So he had to sneak in after class, probably after dinner as well.

Harry stuffed the bottle back into the sock and hid the package underneath his pillow, between the crack of his mattress and the headboard of his bed. He settled back down, satisfied, pulling the covers up to his ears. He slowly began to doze; his problems slowly faded away. Faint thoughts, displaying him holding the strand of memory inside a glass bottle, slithered through his mind. In the distance he heard the slow humming noise of the heating being turned on. He sighed, suddenly feeling really drowsy. The lack of sleep finally taking its toll on him. He slowly drifted off.

The next thing he knew was that he was being shaken thoroughly, and an insistent voice calling: "Harry! Harry, wake up, mate! It's almost time for breakfast."

Harry slapped the hand that was resting on his shoulder, and was the cause of his unrest, away with a loud smacking noise. He heard someone curse, and a soft mumble of voices. Harry sat up, not really seeing anything. His nose was hurting when he reached up; he noticed that his glasses were digging into his nose. He had probably forgotten to take them of the night before. He took them off, and tried to bend the slightly twisted ear back. The metal however remained unrelenting. He sighed, and placed the glasses back on his nose; he would have to let Hermione look at them before breakfast.

Suddenly he was aware of a hand waving up and down in front of his face and a number of "Harrys" and "Hurry ups" blaring into his left ear. He looked sideways and found Ron standing next to his bed. Finally the words, "You're going to be late for breakfast," penetrated his daze.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly. Quickly he pulled off his pyjamas and pulled on his school uniform. He raced towards the bathroom while buttoning up his shirt. Once there he hastily brushed his teeth and dragged a comb trough his hair. Not that it made any difference, it stuck up just the same. He discreetly sniffed under his armpits and wrinkled his nose. He would take a shower tonight; now he hadn't the time. He raced back into the dormitory, noticing that he was the last one still there. He pulled his sweater over his head, pulled on his shoes and grabbed his robe and tie on his way out. He managed to tie his tie as he stumbled down the stairs, taking two steps at the time. He almost tripped over his own feet.

Looking up, he noticed Hermione sitting on one of the plush red couches in front of the fire in the common room. The only thing he could see from his position was the distinctive brown bushy hair. Of course Hermione would probably be the only sixth year in Gryffindor who would even read before breakfast. The only one of the whole house, really. Walking up to her, he raised his hand in greeting. "Morning, Hermione."

She turned around; Harry noticed that she looked as tired as he felt, and smiled slightly, "Good Morning, Harry."

"Why aren't you down at breakfast?" Harry asked.

"I was waiting for you," she answered, picking up her bag and stood up. "Ron went down already with Lavender. I thought I would wait for you instead, like a good friend should."

Harry didn't really know if she disapproved of Ron leaving without them. Or Ron leaving with Lavender. By the way that Hermione was looking at the two of them lately, he was betting on the latter. Still it was nice of her to be waiting for him. So he smiled at her and said, "Thanks, Hermione."

Her smile brightened instantly, followed by a worried look. "What have you done to your glasses? They're crooked! Did Ron sit on them again? Or were you boys having a pillow fight?"

Hermione snatched his glasses from his nose, murmured a Reparo and handed them back.

"There, that's better isn't it?" she said as Harry placed them on his nose again. He nodded; it did feel much better. Hermione was always better than him at fixing things.

He nodded, and was thankful for the smile that once again was directed his way. As the two of them walked out of the portrait of the Fat Lady, he asked, "Are you okay, Hermione? You look rather tired."

She beamed at him, looking rather relieved that someone was concerned about her. Harry was glad he'd asked that question. It seemed to do his friend some good to be asked about her health.

"Oh, I'm just fine! I just stayed up late last night. I hadn't finished my Arithmancy homework, yet. And it is due next week! I could not believe how hard it was. For example…"

Letting Hermione talk about her Arithmancy classes was one of the good ways to help her relax and let her forget about her problems for a few minutes. Harry wasn't really listening to what she was saying. There was no point, he couldn't understand half of it. He took the time to straighten out his tie. His uniform looked rather rumpled still, but it was the best he could do. He pushed the back of his shirt into his pants. Harry ran a hand over the front of his uniform in a desperate last attempt to look at least half decent.

"…right, Harry?" Hermione asked from beside him. Not having paid attention to whatever she was rambling about, he could only hum noncommittally, a noise that could be taken as an affirmative or a negative. It seemed to be the right thing to do as Hermione starting rambling again; this time Harry noticed that they were on the subject of homework overall.

Entering the Great Hall, Harry decided that today was going to be a long day.

After Apparition class, or rather after eavesdropping on Draco Malfoy in Apparition class, Harry had raced towards the dormitory as fast as he could. He had grabbed the Marauder's Map and his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he mumbled as he lightly tapped his wand against the parchment. Slowly the map of Hogwarts materialised on the paper in inky black lines.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"What's the matter, mate."

Suddenly Harry was aware that he wasn't alone in the dormitory. He was so focused on finding out what Malfoy was up to that he hadn't thought of anything else. So he told his friends of what he had overheard. He was now sure, absolutely sure that Malfoy was up to something.

The first thing that Hermione mentioned was, "Are you sure? I mean even Dumbledore -"

Harry cut her off feeling, irritated that he wasn't believed again, "Of course I'm sure. And just because Dumbledore hasn't said anything about it, doesn't mean that Malfoy isn't up to something. I want to find out what, so help me find him on the map."

Hermione huffed and left the room. Harry watched her go; right now he had more important things to do then appease his friends. Ron had bent over the map and was helping Harry look over every room in the castle.

"Here he is," Ron said, pointing at the name Draco Malfoy. "He is in the Slytherin common room. I can't imagine he would be doing something there, unless it's Parkinson."

Harry cursed, "He's up to no good. I'm sure of it! And Snape may be involved in this, whether it is to help Dumbledore or not, I don't know. But I have to find out!"

Ron shrugged and commented most unhelpfully, "Maybe Malfoy is on a break right now."

Harry shot him a look of annoyance, at which he replied, "Come on, Harry. Since when do I know what Malfoy does all day? Since when do I care? More importantly it's time for dinner, so let's go."

Harry watched as Ron quickly left the room. Food was something his friend found irresistible. He sighed and got up as well. Shooting one last look at the map, he made his way to dinner.

Dinner had been quiet. Hermione wasn't talking to him, taking offence at his earlier comment. Ron was once again immerged in Lavender. So he spent his dinner in relative silence.

Harry looked around the Great Hall. The candles were lit and were hovering over the separate House tables. A fleeting thought had him wondering how Dumbledore saw to it that the wax didn't drip onto the food below. It wasn't really healthy if your food was covered in wax.

He looked further around and his eyes fell on the Slytherin table. Malfoy didn't seem to be present at the time. And once again Harry wondered what the boy was up to. He berated himself for leaving the map at the dormitory. This could have been the moment that his curiosity would have been satisfied. At the High Table he noticed that Professor Slughorn was leaving. Harry remembered his plan from this morning; now was a perfect time to execute it.

He stood up from the table, said a quick goodbye to his friends and started walking towards the Gryffindor dormitory. Once there he grabbed his map and laid it out on his bed. He watched as Slughorn rummaged around in his office. Harry would wait for the moment before he left. Slughorn could leave any minute; Harry didn't want to risk losing the perfect opportunity. So he waited. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Malfoy was walking towards the Great Hall.

Harry grabbed the book of the Half-Blood Prince and started leafing through it, making sure that he looked at the map every now and then. After two hours had passed, and everyone had left dinner, Harry made his move. The Great Hall had emptied and most students seemed to be in their respective common rooms. So it would be quiet in the halls, perfect for sneaking around. He slipped the sock with Felix Felicis from underneath his pillow and took a sip. He had approximately a mouthful of the potion; he calculated that he would be lucky for the next three to four hours.

Getting his Invisibility Cloak from his trunk, stuffing the refolded map into his pocket, Harry carefully made his way downstairs. He could feel the slight pull of the potion. He felt confident, he felt like he was almost free from burdens. In the common room he noticed Ron sitting together with Hermione; they seemed to be discussing the latest homework for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry felt relieved that his friends were talking to each other again. Maybe now was the time that they'd stop avoiding each other and it would be like it used to be.

Harry slipped out of the dormitory. He had the luck that a fifth year was leaving at the same time he did, so that he could slip out without making it seem like the door had mysteriously opened on itself. From underneath his cloak he looked at his map. Slughorn was still in his office. He descended the stairs, fully intending to go straight away to the Potion Master's office, when he felt the pull of the potion. He had a sudden urge to look into the broom closet on the third floor. Following the potion's pull he opened the closet. It was empty for a few brooms, mops and buckets. But there was also a trunk on the floor, stuffed behind the brooms in an attempt to hide it. Harry crawled towards the trunk and with a silent iAlohomora/ihe opened the lock. Pushing the surprisingly heavy top open, he noticed that the trunk was filled with bottles. Lifting one out, Harry realised that the bottles contained Firewhisky. The Felix Felicis gave a pull, and Harry made the decision to take the bottle with him.

He stood up and made the trek down once again. He didn't take the map out to look if Slughorn was still in his office; he just let the potion guide him. It seemed however that the Professor was in the Potions class room, since the pull from the Felix Felicis led him right past the office. Unless of course this was another detour. He couldn't really say for sure.

He stood before the wooded door of the classroom, pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it in his pocket. With the bottle of Firewhisky in hand he knocked on the door. A faint, "Come in," was heard on the other side of the door. He opened the door and stepped inside. Harry watched as the face of Slughorn clouded over at the sight of him. Slughorn watched him carefully, his eyes lingering on the bottle of Firewhisky in his hand. Then suddenly his face brightened. It left Harry wondering if Felix could also affect the moods of others.

"Ah dear Harry, come in! Come in!" he said, standing up and pushing Harry towards a chair. "What have you got there, my boy? Is that Firewhisky?"

Harry handed Slughorn the bottle; it was time to get that memory. Maybe the bottle of Firewhisky could help appease the man.

Two hours later Harry stumbled out of the classroom. He had succeeded at getting the memory and had gotten slightly drunk in the process. He pulled the Invisibility Cloak once again over his head. He held up the small bottle with a strand of memory in it. Harry grinned; not only had he finally succeeded in getting this for Dumbledore, he had also managed to get some information about Malfoy. Slughorn had mentioned that he caught the Slytherin multiple times sneaking around the school after hours. If that was true, then Harry had a chance to find out what Malfoy was doing for Voldemort.

He could still feel the pull of the potion and decided the follow it. The pull hadn't led him wrong yet. And it could lead Harry towards Malfoy next. His grinned contentedly at the thought of catching Malfoy.

Harry strolled all the way up the stairs. The pull led him higher and higher. He ended on the seventh floor, close to the Gryffindor dormitory. But that couldn't be right, Harry's slightly dazed mind supplied. Malfoy wouldn't – couldn't – be in the dormitory. The Gryffindors would eat him alive. The pull however led Harry away from the portrait of the Fat Lady. He was headed towards where he knew the Room of Requirement was. Or at least where it would be if you needed it.

To Harry's surprise the huge wooden door had already appeared. The pull from the potion had stopped to a slight hum. He was curious what happened to make the door appear like that. He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

The next thing he knew was that he was lying on his back in his bed. His Invisibility Cloak was still half wrapped around him. The curtains of his canopy were half open. His head hurt and no matter how hard he thought, he couldn't remember for the life of him what had happened after he opened the door to the Room of Requirement. It was rather disturbing that he couldn't remember how he got here. He sighed and got up. He still had class today; he didn't want detention on top of everything.

The months flew by for Harry. He told his friends about acquiring the memory, omitting that he couldn't remember anything after that. He and Dumbledore watched the memory. They discussed a lot of things about the Horcruxes, things he retold to Hermione and Ron. Homework swamped more of his time than ever. Between homework and Quidditch, Harry rarely had any free time anymore. The free time he had was spent spying on Malfoy. He had Dobby and Kreacher follow Draco around. Harry also had the suspicion that it was Malfoy he had met in the Room of Requirement. It was a possibility.

Through the months he also noticed that Malfoy looked less and less like himself. So far as Harry knew, Malfoy he was always perfectly dressed, not a hair out of place. But now, he was almost too thin for his clothes. They used to be perfectly made for his body, now they just hung from it. His shirt also contained multiple wrinkles. All in all Malfoy didn't look very good.

Every time Harry looked at Malfoy, he felt a pang in his heart that he knew was concern. He also felt the need to help him, to comfort him. It was strange, so strange he hadn't told his friends anything about it at all. Not that they would believe him. Slowly Malfoy became Draco at least in his head; he didn't dare say it out loud.

Harry had, because of the lack of free time, taken to following Draco around on the Marauder's Map. Everywhere he went he had the map with him. So when he noticed the dot labelled Draco Malfoy in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he took his chance and followed him there.

Harry pushed the door to the toilet open. The map had indicated that Draco would be here. What he saw however wasn't the sight he had expected. The whole bathroom was filled with the stale stench of puke. He could hear Draco saying, "I can't…I can't do it…he says he'll kill me…."

He could also hear the crooning of Moaning Myrtle in the background. In the reflection of the mirrors, Harry could see Draco crouched with his head bent towards the toilet. Tears were running down his cheeks as he sobbed, "I…can't…oh Merlin". Harry watched as he grabbed the toilet with two hands and threw up loudly. Draco didn't look good. His pallor had turned greyish and his face had a sunken look to it. His wrists were startlingly thin, his normally perfect fitted clothes hung around him; it was like he hadn't eaten properly for a while. Draco's hair was unruly and full of cowlicks; it uncannily resembled Harry's own hair. Suddenly he found himself looking at grey bloodshot eyes, looking at him through the reflection. It didn't really register that Draco was looking at him, until he'd gotten up from the dirty bathroom floor.

"Potter…" he hissed as he grabbed his wand and pointed it straight at Harry. Harry quickly grabbed his own wand and sidestepped the bright red light that Draco had shot at him. He didn't really want to hurt Draco; he rather wanted to take him towards the Infirmary. His classmate looked so bad that even he was concerned, he told himself.

Harry shot a Levicorpus at Draco. His opponent countered the curse easily and shot another one of those red light-curses his way. Mirrors, toilets and washbasins broke and scattered splinters all across the room. Draco suddenly stopped and grabbed his stomach. Harry, in concern, took a step or two forwards and was promptly covered in puke. Draco let out a soft moan as he slid to his knees. He pointed his wand at Harry once again and managed to get out a watery, "Cru…," before Harry hit him with Stupefy.

Harry watched horrified as Draco slammed backwards against chards of broken mirror. He rushed to him and picked the Slytherin up in his arms; he hadn't even thought about using a charm to lift the blond. As he lifted Draco up from the ground, he noticed that the blond was very light, almost abnormally so. The boy in his arms let out a watery gurgle and Harry, half in concern, half in reluctance to be covered in puke again, race towards the Infirmary.

Once in the Infirmary, Harry screamed for the nurse. "Madam Pomfrey, I need help, come quickly! Hurry up! It's Draco!"

Madam Pomfrey came quickly from her office and when her eyes locked on to the scene before her, they widened. Harry could only imagine what kind of picture the two of them made. They were both covered in puke and both looked rather rumpled.

"What are you standing there for, Mr. Potter? Put Mr. Malfoy on a bed! Quickly now!" the nurse called. Harry speedily walked towards the closest free bed and laid Draco down on it. He was horrified to see that his hands were smeared with blood. "Madam Pomfrey…" he called, showing her the blood on his hands. The nurse sprang into action, pushed Harry out of the way and started casting charms. "Wait in the hall, please, Mr. Potter," she said forcefully with her back turned towards him. Harry left her to it and closed the curtain around the bed.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly distinctly aware that he still was covered in puke. A few Scourgify charms later Harry was clean again; although the charms couldn't do anything about the smell, he felt a lot better. Harry stared at the greenish paper curtain that hid Draco from his view. He suddenly was flooded with guilt. Why had he fired that curse at Draco? He had known that he was weakened. The idea that he could have seriously hurt Draco was enough to make him nauseous.

Harry started pacing the long hall of the Infirmary. The big clock that hung on an archway gave a sound with every step he took. Why couldn't he have talked to Draco? Maybe he could have found out what was happening. Maybe he could have helped him. Maybe. Harry sighed and let himself fall down into a chair. He looked at his hand; they were currently blood free, but he couldn't help but wonder where that blood had come from. Was it a large wound? Could Draco die from it? It was thoughts like these that caused Harry to almost have a nervous breakdown.

Suddenly the curtains around Draco's bed were shoved aside. Harry raced towards the bed, almost mowing Madam Pomfrey over in his haste to know how Draco was doing.

"He's going to be alright, Mr. Potter. You can see him now," she said. "I have to get the Headmaster and Professor Slughorn."

The nurse closed the curtains behind her and walked towards her office. Harry found himself once again staring at the curtains. It was funny he thought, how he suddenly was scared to see Draco, when he'd previously wanted nothing more then to see how he was doing. Gathering his courage, he pulled the curtains open and entered.

Draco lay bundled in white sheets; it made his skin look greyer then ever. Harry stepped closer to the bed and looked at the blond's face. He looked more relaxed than he did in that bathroom. Looked much better overall. Of course he still was too thin and he didn't look particularly healthy. But Draco was clean and lacked the smell of puke that Harry still carried around with him. Watching Draco, as he lay just breathing and fine on the bed, Harry had the sudden urge to stroke his cheek. He stroked with his index finger over Draco's cheek and marvelled at the softness of the skin. He did it again; he had to feel that soft skin again. Suddenly he was aware that Draco was watching him. Harry didn't know how fast he pulled his finger away.

"Potter…"he gasped drowsily, "you better take responsibility."

Harry, having no idea what he was talking about, could only nod. Take responsibility? For what? If it was about the fight that they had, he would be able to take responsibility for that. Draco, at the sight of the nod, seemed to relax more and smiled at him. Actually smiled! He smiled back and returned to stroking Draco's cheek.

Harry jumped when the curtains around the bed were pulled aside. He had been lost in his own world and hadn't realized that Madam Pomfrey had returned. With her were the Headmaster, who was looking with a twinkle in his eyes at Harry, and Professor Slughorn. Harry quickly pulled his hand back.

"Ah Harry, my boy, it's nice to see you here. And Mr. Malfoy, you gave us quite the surprise, I understand," said Dumbledore.

Harry looked curiously from the Professors to Draco. Draco had sat up, looking wide awake. What was the surprise? Did it have anything to do with the thing that he had to take responsibility for? Curiosity burned in his belly. He really wanted to know what he was missing. Dumbledore apparently understood that Harry hadn't been informed of anything and started talking again.

"Congratulations, Mr Malfoy, It seems to be that you are with child. I believe that I should congratulate you too, Harry, for becoming a father."

Harry looked on, wide-eyed, feeling suddenly very faint. Pregnant? Draco's pregnant? Draco, a boy as far as Harry knew, was pregnant? And he was the father? His head spun with all these questions that he didn't know the answer to.

"Professor, how..? Why..? I mean…Draco is a boy. Boys can't get pregnant! I mean that is impossible!" Harry burst out.

Slughorn stepped forward and answered, "If I may explain. It is quite possible in the Wizarding world to get pregnant. We aren't ignorant Muggles, my boy. True, it is rather rare. There hasn't been a male pregnancy for over fifty years! I can't believe that I am here to see it, and the father is my dear Lily's son no less. It is a fantastic day!

"It is in my belief that the Fruit of Passion potion was used in this case. Although some say that it is a ritual or a paste instead of a potion. But I won't go into detail about that. The Fruit of Passion potion is quite possible in this case, because of the ingredients used.

"It contains honeydew of the mistletoe, ground dragon scale, saliva and white candles for the ritual. I don't know exactly how the ritual is carried out. The ingredients are simple to obtain. Honeydew of mistletoe for example is used by the house-elves as a fabric softener. And ground dragon scales are used to give the fire effect in Firewhisky. It is rather fascinating to know that the mistletoe is actually causing the baby to grow like a parasite. No need for any of the female reproductive organs. Quite fascinating that!" Slughorn cleared his throat. "Oh, how wonderful that I could be present for such a joyful discovery. I will help of course, anything for the son of Lily Evans and of course future parents of a child born like that, the first one in over fifty years! Of course you have to let me recommend you a fine midwife. I know only the best. I will start on the birthing potions immediately." And with a shout of joy Slughorn exited the Infirmary.

Harry understood the making of the potion. Firewhisky could be used as an ingredient, so if Draco was about three months pregnant, it could be that it was Draco he had encountered behind the door of the Room of Requirement, just like he had expected. Harry had the daunting feeling that this was the thing Draco had been talking about. This was the thing he had to take responsibly for. It suddenly came to him – more like crashed into him like a herd of Centaurs- that he was going to be a father.

"I think I need to sit down," he mumbled. Dumbledore was so kind as to conjure a comfy chair at the foot of the bed. Harry let himself fall heavily into the chair and was instantly spelled clean of the nasty smell that still hung around him. He was going to be a parent. A parent! Draco and he were going to have a baby. It all was really mind-boggling. He looked up and saw Draco watching him with a scared look on his face, as if he was afraid of Harry's reaction. Harry gave him a slight smile, enough to put him at ease. He wasn't angry or disappointed, only confused and strangely happy. He had always wanted a family and now he was going to get one. He was worried of course, he was 16 and the guy he'd knocked up wasn't exactly his friend and was possibly a Death Eater.

Dumbledore walked towards the left side of Draco and said, "Mr. Malfoy, I think it is time you tell me what you've been up to this year. Of course we will guaranty your safety and the safety of your family. And I'm sure that Mr. Potter will do his best as well to protect you and your child."

Draco looked at Harry once again, as if he was asking for permission. Harry nodded; he was also dying to know what Draco had been up to. Finally the moment was here, he would finally find it all out.

Draco took a deep breath and shakily started to tell the story. "In the summer the Dark Lord gave me…a mission of sorts. My family had fallen out of favour, so it was up to me to make it alright again. I was supposed to k-k-kill Dumbledore…a-and let the D-Death Ea-Eaters into…the school."

Silent tears were streaming down his cheeks. Madam Pomfrey handed Draco a glass of water as he wiped the tears staining his cheeks away with the covers of his bed. With a broken voice he continued, "I-in the Room of Req-Requirement there is a Vanishing Cabinet. I…it is broken and I was trying to fix it. It looked hopeless, it wouldn't work no matter how hard I tried! I-I was going to poison the mead. I knew that you love to drink it, Headmaster. It was my last resort, I couldn't do it! I'm sorry! So sorry!"

Draco was crying really loudly now, his lithe body shaking with sobs. "I'm so sorry! He threatened to kill me! To kill my mother, my father! Please protect them, I'm begging you! Please….I'll do anything, just please! I'm so… sorry."

Suddenly Harry felt hope and relief coming from deep in his body. The feeling told him that everything was going to be alright. He watched Draco cry his eyes out and be comforted by Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey. His body shook, and Harry was at that moment acutely aware that that body contained a baby, his child.

Yes, he decided, everything was going to be alright. And it didn't matter that the hopeful feeling could fade. It didn't matter if the war that was brewing seized it all. Or that the troubles of being a parent were too harsh. Or just living with Draco Malfoy would be disastrous. Right now, that hopeful feeling was there and it was making his body feel light. He would fight to keep this hope. And if he ever lost it, he would fight to regain it. He would fight for his friends. Harry stepped forward and hugged Draco tightly against his body. But he would protect his family with his life. And at the moment, that family consisted of Draco and the baby. Harry sighed and let his head fall onto the shivering shoulders of Draco. It would be alright; he would make sure that it would be.

The End