Chapter One

The day was Saturday, a day for rest and a day for mischief. Harry liked Saturday, and yet he was still irritated. See, instead of flying his broom around the pitch or watching Ron attempt to stuff three muffins in his mouth — a feat that Ron obstinately denies makes him a total pouf — Harry was forced to attend yet another meeting with the headmaster. Another, as in the sixth this year. Instead of all the fun and/or useful things that he could have been doing, Harry spent the bulk of his weekends as of late watching the complete and unabridged life story of Tom 'I have daddy issues' Riddle. Thus far, Harry had no clue how any of these so-called 'lessons' could help, but Dumbledore was pretty adamant that there were 'important' things in the memories that he believed would help in the war effort.

Secretly, Harry was convinced that the old coot already knew every one of the memories back and forth, and that everything of importance could easily be summarized into a single lesson, but Dumbledore chose to drag the whole thing on just to be as obtuse as physically possible.

Reluctantly, Harry gathered the resolve to drag himself to another totally awesome (translation: boring as hell) evening alone the headmaster, or rather, he had thought that they would be alone. When he opened the door, there was the headmaster of course, but then there were teachers (McGonagall, and Snape), students (Ron, Hermione, and strangely enough, Draco), and to top off the unusual gathering of people, there were some parents (Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy).

So much for alone.

Most importantly, why the hell were the Malfoys there? Shouldn't Lucius have been in prison? Harry voiced his concerns: "What the fuck! You're supposed to be in Azkaban!"

Harry drew his wand and dove behind one of the headmaster's fluffy chairs. He stayed behind there for a time, but when no response came, he carefully peeked his head over the edge of the chair.

Everyone stared back at him. Lucius quirked up an eyebrow, and the headmaster appeared to be hiding in a smile.

Sheepishly, Harry got back to his feet and walked back to where he stood not fifteen seconds before. "What's, uh… Going on?" he asked looking around to all the faces in the group before looking at the head of house Malfoy. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be getting gang-raped in the showers."

The headmaster let out a chuckle, but Lucius did not look amused. "I feel we have started this on the wrong foot," Dumbledore said as he lent back on his chair, calmly sucking on a lemon drop. "Let's try this again. Harry, I've called you up here for most a wonderful and joyous occasion."

"Eh, what?" Harry asked.

"Congratulations Harry!" Hermione blurted out.

"For… what exactly?"

"Harry," the headmaster continued, "You are here today for a most wondrous, stupendous, and magical occasion!"

Ooo-kay. Harry was in no mood for this. It was Saturday, his favorite day of the week, and he had no time for any of this guessing game bullshit. "How about you tell me what this occasion is and I'll tell you how 'wonderous' it really is."

"You're getting married!" Ron shouted, unable to contain his excitement.

"Ron, you're an idiot," Harry snapped at his ginger friend. "Shut up." He turned back to the headmaster. "What's really going on?"

"Well, as your great friend Ronald has said, you are to be wed." Dumbledore smiled. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Harry stood there for a good thirty seconds trying to wrap his head around the absurdity of the previous minute. Nothing was doing. "Um, okay. Let's start over," he said. "I walked in, saw a known and convicted felon in your office and dove to safety." He pointed to the elder Malfoy. "That hasn't been resolved yet, why would he need to be here." He paused for a moment. "And why the hell am I getting married?"

"He's here to take Draco down the aisle, Harry!" Hermione shouted, jumping up and down in excitement.

This was odd. Harry discretely pinched himself to be sure if he was awake and when he didn't find himself alone in his bed he was immensely disappointed. "Hermione, when exactly did you turn into some wedding obsessed freak, and—wait, what does Draco have to do with anything?" Harry had a sneaking suspicion, but it just couldn't be…

"Welcome to the family dear," Narcissa said before wrapping her arms around him. Harry, stunned for a moment, did nothing to extricate himself from her embrace. That is, until he finally wrapped his mind around what was happening to him.

He pushed her away with both hands, surreptitiously copping a feel in the process (Narcissa was a cougar, rawr!), and pointed at Dumbledore. "You," he said, "want me to marry," Harry paused, pointed at the ponce, and elevated his voice to a shout, "Draco?" He put a palm to his face and groaned loudly. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Now, now, Harry," the headmaster said in soothing tones, "Draco Malfoy is a fine match."

Harry stared dumbly at the man he (mildly) respected just a few minutes previous and tried to imagine how the man could have possibly come to that conclusion. For not the first time that evening, Harry's mind failed him. "How?" he finally asked. "How is Draco possibly a match for me? I'm strai—"

The man quickly interrupted him. "Draco, has come into his magical inheritance, and to all of our surprises." He paused dramatically for effect. "Draco is a Veela."

Harry paused, not for dramatic effect, but to try to think how Draco being a Veela could have anything to do with anything. Harry's mind chose that moment to remain blank, but he knew he had to say something, so he asked, "…And?"

"He's picked you as his mate! Isn't that wonderful!"

That's it? That's his justification for this farce? Harry felt the need to be the voice of reason. "No, it bloody well isn't!" Harry shouted, "What's wrong with you people!" Harry started backing away from everyone in the direction of the door for fear of catching their crazy mind-altering disease (or for fear of turning his back and getting butt-fucked).

"You don't approve? Typical!" the potions master spat. "Nothing's good enough for Potter!"

Harry threw his arms into the air and shouted, "I'm not ga—"

Dumbledore interrupted him, again. "Be that as it may, as your magical guardian, I have chosen to join your two families in holy matrimony." More like unholy. He got to his feet and walked towards Harry. "With the Malfoys on our side, the war effort will be much easier for the light." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's for the greater good you see…"

Harry pushed the hand away and staggered back another few feet. "You're forcing me, against my will, to marry Draco Malfoy?"

The headmaster took another step forwards repeating, "—greater good…"

Harry decided it was well within his rights to protest. "Shut up! I'm not doing it!

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice…" he said with a steely voice. "You will do this."

"NO!" he shouted as he pointed his wand at the senile old man.

Albus seemed unafraid. "You will," he said, "and you will give birth to an heir within the first year of marriage."

Harry stood there with his mouth practically hanging down to the floor, and was so shocked that he lowered his wand. "Give… birth?" He said the words as if he'd never heard them before in his life. He vigorously shook his head. "I'm not a woman!" Harry was at his wit's end. "How the fuck is that supposed to work!"

"The Veela magic makes it all possible," Draco said, sliding up next to Harry. He put a hand around Harry's waist and pulled him close.

Harry did not like this, and did what was his first instinct. He socked Malfoy in the face. "Hands off you freak of nature!" Harry shouted.

Everyone gasped, and Draco struggled to get back on his feet.

"Harry, don't be so racist!" Hermione said in outrage.

"Racist?" Harry asked. "He can make other guys pregnant," he said heatedly, pointing a finger at his downed 'fiancée', "he is a freak!"

"Now now, Harry," the headmaster said again with the calming voice, "getting buggered is not that uncomfortable a thing." Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "In fact you might just learn to like it." He looked pensive and rubbed his chin. "Why, in my youth…"

"I'll stop you right there, and save us all years and years of costly therapy."

Dumbledore paid Harry's wish to avoid therapy no mind and carried on. "Ah Gellert… You were a stallion…"

"I did not just hear that," Harry groaned. "So there's no way out of this? I have to do this?"

"Yes Harry, and don't sound so depressed about it. This is a great thing after all! Why, now you don't have to marry an icky girl!" He creepily leered at Draco. "Why, if I were a hundred years younger, I'd be all over that tight ass of his!" He punctuated this by smacking Draco on the ass.

"Eww… Stop talking please." He shook his head. "Anyways, I am not buggering, nor getting buggered by Draco. It's not happening. I don't care what you say, if he ever has his penis showing in my presence, I cut it off!"

Dumblodore looked at Snape for a moment. "Well, I suppose we could have you drink a potion to get you pregnant…"

"Would this potion have Draco's swimmers in it?" Harry asked.

"Of course!" the headmaster cheered.

"No. God no. I will not be slurping down Draco's man mustard. Not happening."

"Why must you be so difficult!" The potions master screamed.

"Fuck off you fucking freak," Harry said, "die in a fire."

"One BILLION points from Gryffindor!" he shouted.

Harry dropped his head into his palm and let out a loud sigh.

"Harry, you must do this. It's for the greater good," the headmaster repeated for what must have been the millionth time. "With this marriage, the Death Eaters will be dealt a fierce blow! Lucius has graciously agreed to shift the control of the family estate to the two of you. Finally the Malfoy finances will be in the hands of the light!"

Harry was extremely interested in this new piece of information, but kept his cool. He turned to Draco. "So… I guess we're getting married."

By the end of the day, Harry and Draco were already married. In a showing of graciousness, Dumbledore gave them the next week off in order to christen their marriage properly. When he announced this news, he did so while gyrating his hips and giving a thumbs up, and the old man scared a large portion (read: ALL) of the student population.

A third year Hufflepuff vomited.

The newlyweds sat on their marital bed in the master bedroom of the Malfoy manor. Draco was trying to strike up a conversation with his new husband, while Harry was looking at everything in the room but the naked body beside him. "Harryyyy! Let's fuuuuuck!" Draco whined.

Harry looked at the oak bookcase. Must have been expensive.

"Come onnn!" he continued. "I'll even let you be the boy on the first go!"

Harry looked at the window.

Draco took Harry's silence as a yes. "I'll go get the lube."

Harry looked at the ticking clock on the other side of the room. It was past midnight; at last, the marriage contract was finalized. He grabbed his wand off the bedside table and cast a stunning spell at his 'husband'.

Harry had some work to do.

The next day, Harry calmly walked into the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was sharing a joke with the sorting hat, and so didn't immediately notice Harry's entrance. "'…a hell of an act, what do you call it?' And the father says, 'The Aristocrats!'" Dumbledore shouted the punch line loudly.

Both Albus and the hat laughed uproariously. "My word Albus, those vaudevillian buffoons have nothing on you!" the hat said between dying chuckles. The hat spotted Harry and smiled. "Harry! You simply must hear Albus tell this joke, it's hilarious!"

Albus looked surprised and turned to the new… bride. "Harry, my boy! How was the honeymoon? Did you try the Dutch rudder?" He did something with his hand that Harry did not want to see. "That's a favorite of mine if you'd like to know."

Harry did in fact not like to know.

"No Dutch rudder, I'm afraid."

"Oh, maybe next time!"

Harry smiled. "Sorry, there won't be a next time."

"Don't say that!" the old man shouted. "You two will have a nice, long lifetime together. Till death do you part."

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that…"

The headmaster was not listening, but was instead reading the Prophet. "The Malfoys are dead!"

"Yep."

"It says here in the Prophet that they all died last night!"

"Yep."

"Oh no! That's terrible! Harry my boy, is this true? What happened?"

"They fell down a flight of stairs."

"They what?"

"Fell down the stairs."

"Oh my!" he exclaimed. "What a way to go! Where were you when this took place?"

"At the top of the stairs."

"Goodness! Why, to watch your beloved husband die like that; it breaks my heart to imagine how you must feel, Harry."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, I'm okay."

"What! Surely not?"

"Nah, wasn't very attached to the guy to start with."

"But your own husband?"

"I'm more annoyed than anything."

"Annoyed?" Dumbledore couldn't comprehend this kind of apathy. "Why?"

"Draco had to fall forty seven fucking times before he finally kicked the bucket." Harry rolled his eyes. "About forty six times too many in my book."

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Harry," he said as he motioned to the chair opposite his desk, "I know you're grieving, but I feel I must ask you a question."

Harry sat down on the chair across from him. "Shoot," He said before throwing a Lemon drop in his mouth.

"Did you kill them?" Dumbledore asked gravely.

"No. How could I have?" Harry said as he folded his hands in his lap. "See, I was here with you at the time."

"Right." Dumbledore let out a breathe he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, I was here with you." Harry looked him in the eye. "The prophesized savior of the world can't go to jail, so I must have been here, right?"

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Right. My mistake."

Harry leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and rested his feet on the headmaster's desk. "It can happen."

There was a peaceful silence in the room for over a minute while the two of them thought about the ramifications of this. Albus quickly grew tired of thinking. "Damn it Harry, why couldn't you have just gone with the flow? I had your best interests at heart!"

"No, I'm good."

The headmaster slammed a fist against his desk. "Bro! I was just trying to get you laid!"

"Don't do that again, okay?"

"Fine! Go on! Have sex with girls! See if I care! They're all icky and curvy and stuff…"

Harry flattened his pants down and stood up. "Okay, you're clearly insane; I'll be going now." He started walking for the door.

"But, where to, Harry?"

Harry turned back. "Gringotts," he replied with a smile. "I'm going to go take a swan dive into my new vault of gold."

"Oh, right." He caught sight of his floppy hat friend and grinned. "Want to hear a joke before you go?" The hat straightened up at this and looked excited. Harry shrugged before nodding. "Alright, so this family walks into a talent agency…"

AN: Slash is stupid. Male Veelas are stupid. Mpreg is stupid on a level that I can't even comprehend. So, if you ever consider combining all three of these monumentally stupid ideas into one fail of a story, stop and think about the consequences: just to annoy you for annoying me, I might just keep writing, and no one wants that, right?

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