A/N: There's some mPreg, loads of fluff (really hurt my teeth, that), and I hate to say this, but it's rated M to be on the safe side. Yuck, can't believe I said that... I should wash my mouth. But this is for Kamerreon (aka Mistress Kay), for being a great inspiration to us inferior creatures, for always replying to my (usually) nonsensical ramblings I call reviews, and for being a totally awesome person!

XxX

Your Fingertips

When I finally confessed to you, you said nothing. I stood there waiting for you to say something, but it never came.

You just caressed my cheeks with your fingertips.

It took me three days to figure out it was your way of saying, "I want to be with you, too."

I watched you during meals and the way you used your fingers to hold the cutlery. Whenever there was a favourite of yours served you used your fingertips even more, holding the spoon or fork with something akin to reverence.

Your face was as blank as ever.

I watched you during Potions and the way you chopped, sliced, diced and stirred. Your fingers played with the knives, crushers and spoons. It was such a happy sight.

You never did anything inappropriate for a Malfoy.

I can only remember two things about the first time we kissed:

Yours were the best kisses I had ever experienced, far better than Cho's or even Ginny's.

And your fingertips caressed every part of my neck and back that they could reach.

When we finally came out together, for the world to see, you arched one eyebrow, ignored everyone other than me and softly brushed your fingertips across the back of my hand.

"It's okay, Harry, don't panic," is what it seemed you wanted to say.

I don't think I'll ever forget our first time. We had absolutely no clue what we were doing. We just fumbled along, eager and willing.

It was awkward and mind-blowing.

Afterward we just laid there until you started to touch me with your fingertips.

Your fingertips trailed over my body, from my toes to my inner thighs. Over my barely there six-pack. Encasing my sensitive nipples and then teasingly skimming them up to my neck and ears. Down again, down my arms to my Quidditch-calloused hands. Until you reached my fingertips.

And I knew what you were saying. So I returned it:

"I love you, too, Draco."

I don't think I will ever forget that look on your face, either.

The first time I was with child, you didn't cry tears of joy, beamed at me, or squealed in happiness.

You only trailed your fingertips in wonderment along my still flat stomach.

The first time you held our little baby, your hands were shaking just a little bit, showing your love and amazement at the tiny miracle in your hands.

I was the only one who noticed.

I cried when I saw the two of you together. So amazing, so pure, so beautiful. My lover and my child.

Remember that one time when we fought and we did not make up before we went to bed?

You stormed out of the house and I just went to bed, crying. I waited till you came back that night and when you did you slid behind me, hesitating, but you still softly placed your fingertips on my neck and made small patterns.

What you don't know is that soundless tears slid down my face in relief.

Now, a hundred years after I confessed, the best hundred years of my life, you are asking me a question. A question you have asked countless times before, but I always refused to answer.

And while silent tears make their way down my face, I finally give you my answer:

"Your fingertips."