A/N: [Major Warning: MPreg, but there is she-male-ification of Draco Malfoy]
It is You I have Loved All Along (Revised)
Professor Flitwick closed the heavy leather-bound Volume of Hogwarts: A History (Revised Edition) with a loud thud and the classroom erupted in cheers.
Finally! The 8th Years packed their sacks with a half-an-ear on the holiday assignments and filtered out as fast as they could. This was the first Christmas in nearly 3 years when everyone was in a mood to CELEBRATE. No more Death Eaters, no more Voldemort… no more War!
Neville took a deep breath and exhaled. He had never actually enjoyed Christmas. For the first fifteen years, it had all about the pretense of holiday cheer with relatives who barely even bothered to mask the contempt they had for him… his Gran who wouldn't even look him in the eye when she half-heartedly gave him his present… or parents whose presence was never more strongly needed, or missed. Then the past two years, he had spent training and practicing - trying to keep up, then ahead of the dangers lurking around and against him. And last Christmas had been spent hiding from the Carrows in the Room of Requirement, drinking Eggnog smuggled from the kitchens and mourning the loss of families and friends.
But this year… it's different, he reminded himself. No danger, no war… no Gran, he thought mournfully, but immediately pushed the thought aside. He still had his parents, and…
"Hey Neville," the thick accented voice and thump on his back, brought him out of his reverie. "You comin' to Hogsmeade, mate?"
Neville looked up at his friend, protest on the tip of his tongue and noticed 7 pairs of eyes – Ron and Hermoine standing apart, but leaning towards each other; Harry and Ginny... arms around each other's waists, clearly in love; Seamus and Dean smiling happily at him and finally, Luna who had the knowing glint in her grey eyes – all expectantly waiting for his answer. He grinned, swallowed his protest and nodded.
"You lot go ahead," he said instead. "I'll be just be a minute. I have to talk to Professor Sprout about the rare strain of Crimson oak, I'm developing and…"
"Great!" Dean cut-in "We'll see you at the Three Broomsticks then" and 6 heads nodded in unison. Then he was left alone.
Neville laughed to himself. Talking about plants was a sure fire way to have them gunning for the hills. He waited until his friends had rounded the corner, then turned his feet in direction of the 8th Year Common Room.
-x-x-x-
Pansy Parkinson warily stepped out of the portrait hole, her wand at ready.
While no one openly attacked the Slytherins anymore, thanks to the collective efforts of the older students of other Houses, there still were insults, pushes or even an occasional hex. Greg was still in the infirmary with a few broken bones, after being "accidently brushed against" by a 7th Year Ravenclaw on the way down from the Astronomy Tower. Blaise was a shadow of his former self – mumbling and stuttering like a First Year Hufflepuff. And no one had seen Draco since his trial, when Harry Potter himself had spoken in favour of him and his mother, almost 6 months ago. And the only reason she was here was because her father, in final act of patriarchal duty, had used all his remaining influence to procure a pardon and a sanctuary for her under Minerva McGonagall.
So, it had been quite a surprise when someone had Summoned her outside the Common Room.
The hallway was empty and dark, as expected. Clearly someone was playing prank on her. Again. "Funny," she said aloud and turned to go back in when she heard a quiet shuffling behind her. She raised her wand, bracing for an attack, when a large, warm hand wrapped around her wrist and twisted it just so. Her wand clattered to the floor and she found herself being pulled into a side-alcove and pushed against the wall, a large presence looming above her.
She opened her mouth to scream and found it cut off by a large hand placed over her mouth and nose, even as the grip on her wrist tightened. The hand smelled faintly of wet earth and mild fertilizers. Her eyes adjusted to darkness and her suspicions confirmed, as she found herself face to face with Neville Longbottom's wide chest.
Her breath hitched and her eyes widened, as he leaned forward and hissed "Don't. Scream," in her ear. She nodded silently, gulping down a panicked sob.
War affected everyone differently and who knew how the "detentions" with the Carrows had broken the kind boy who was terrified of his own shadow. Gryffindor's once bumbling idiot was now a force to be reckoned with. And though he had never actively harassed them; unlike Potter and Granger, he hadn't been particularly friendly towards them either. He had simply kept his distance. Apparently, until now…
She exhaled a sigh of relief when Longbottom released her and stepped back, but kept her mouth shut. Her best bet was to stay quiet and take whatever he was going to dish out.
"Sorry," Neville said patting down his robes. "Can't have anyone else knowing. Here," he pulled out a crumpled envelope from his robe pocket and thrust it at her.
Pansy raised an eyebrow in question, but Longbottom just smiled – a silly lopsided grin on his otherwise somber, scarred face. "He's safe," he said instead. She held her breath as Longbottom leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek. "Happy Christmas." He pulled back and just like that he was gone.
Pansy stared after him, then turned her attention to the envelope in her hand. It was a cheap, muggle variety, with a single word "Pansy" written on it in familiar pearly handwriting. With shaking hands, she tore open a corner and slipped out a piece of muggle notepaper from it, words "he's safe" ringing in her ears.
She clutched the letter to her breast and let the sobs take over.
-x-x-x-
Neville fiddled with his Firewhiskey, mentally calculating how long it would be before he could leave without arousing suspicion.
"Neville, you alright, mate?" Dean's concerned voice broke into his thoughts.
Neville looked up. "Yeah? Yeah, I'm fine," he smiled. "Just thinking, y'know. About how this year is different." Everyone at their table nodded, somberly. Seamus clapped him on the back and Luna slipped her hand into his. "So… what is everyone doing for Christmas?" he asked, effectively turning the conversation back to the others.
As expected, Harry and Hermoine were going to The Burrow with Ginny and Ron. Dean was visiting his Muggle family and Seamus was going back to Ireland. And Luna and her father were spending the holidays in Wales with the Scamanders. Which left only him… supposedly, the only one who would be spending Christmas alone this year.
"You should come with us," Harry said as Ginny, Ron and 'Moine nodded their acquiescence. "I'm sure Mrs. Weasley wouldn't mind having you over. Especially now that…" His voice trailed off, but Neville knew, as did all of them, that he was thinking about Fred… or rather the Fred who wasn't there.
Neville bit back a sarcastic comment about how the last thing he wanted to do, was spend Christmas filling in for a dead guy. Instead, he just smiled. "Actually… I've got plans," he said cryptically, looking for an out.
"Yeah?" Harry raised his eyebrows as he and Ron followed Neville's gaze to the brunette at the bar, with large boobs, who was smiling in their direction.
Neville returned her smile, and tilted his head, ever so slightly in direction of the door… a practiced move that never failed.
The brunette stood up, pointedly adjusted her top and walked out, hips swaying lazily. All the boys stared behind her as she disappeared out the door. Ron turned to him. "You'd rather spend your holidays with her?" he asked disbelievingly, as Neville finished his drink and plunked it down on the table.
Neville stood up and grinned. "Sorry mate, duty calls." Ginny and Seamus laughed out loud. "Give my love to your mum. I'll see you on Christmas Day, if I can..." he added with a lecherous wink, dropping a few sickles on the table, and followed the girl outside.
He spotted the brunette standing a little further away from the club, clearly waiting for him. He shook his head, and turned in the opposite direction. He walked until he was well out of sight, then checked to see if anyone was watching him.
Satisfied that the area was clear, he turned on the spot and vanished.
Neville landed in a snow covered alley on a deserted street in Shetland. He shivered against the severe Arctic cold and cast a Warming Charm over himself, then started walking in direction of the civilization.
He stopped in front of a small white two storey cottage, which was decorated a little more festively than its neighbours, and moved past the mailbox proudly announcing "Halfway House" in meticulous block letters to walk three steps up to the front porch. He reached down to pluck the Welcome doormat from its place and retrieved a tiny silver key from under it. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he opened the Wreath adorned door and slipped inside and locked the door silently behind him.
-x-x-x-
The inside of the house was toasty warm. He removed his robe and hung it on the coat rack, which already housed a couple of large raincoats, and toed off his shoes. Loosening his tie, he looked around, taking in the place for the first time in almost two months.
The house was decorated to the hilt, but extremely tastefully. It didn't look gaudy, so much as classy. Apart from the Wreath on the door outside, every doorway seemed to be spotting a sprig of Mistletoe, Holly sprigs and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. The hearth boasted of a large fire, stockings hung from the tinsel decked mantle. The tree in the living room was already decorated and lit, with a giant gold star – which he remembered from his childhood – on top. Pleasant smells of fresh baked gingerbread mingled with strong aroma of herbs and spices, creating a pleasant homely atmosphere.
Faint strains of muggle Christmas carols could be heard from inside the house. Neville followed the music, and his nose, to a small artfully decorated kitchen, where a small feast was laid out in front of him.
But the main reason he stood gobsmacked right in kitchen doorway was bent over the stove, oblivious to his presence. Neville leaned across the doorway, silently taking in the sight before him.
The pale figure was dressed in a red satin negligee that stopped just below that perky arse, a ring of white fluffy material at the bottom. He could barely make-out the matching red knickers through the thin almost transparent material. The pale long legs protruding from under it ended in flat red slippers, with same white fluffy material around the opening. The figure straightened and Neville took in the lopsided Santa hat, fitted around the straight blond hair. The Slutty Santa dress, he realized as a tiny unconscious sigh left his lips.
The figure turned and Neville's breath hitched further. The red dress was bunched a little below the small perky boobs – Boobs!? – but fell freely, till it barely reached the groin - his "modesty" covered by a line of white fluff that originated from the tuft between his bosom. He raked his eyes once more on the body, before moving on to the face.
The stormy grey eyes sparked with a mischievous glint, looking at the obvious tent he was sporting in his uniform trousers... the thin red lips grinning around a fat candy cane, dangling loosely from the teeth.
"Do you like it?" Draco smiled around the candy, mouth wide as he obnoxiously sucked on it.
Neville gulped. The house, the food and music and suggestive way Draco was dressed... He smiled and nodded, opened his mouth to say that he loved it… that it was unnecessary but not exactly unwelcome… that Draco looked especially fetching in that Santa doll outfit… what came out instead was a slightly high-pitched, "Why the fuck do you have boobs?"
Later, he would claim that it wasn't his fault. Not really. After all, all his blood had left his brain to pool around his nether regions. But right now, the happy mischievous smile turned into a sad frown as the tears started flowing freely. Without warning Draco chucked the candy cane away and ripped the hat off his head, messing up the perfect coif. Neville crossed the room in two long strides and grabbed his wrists before he could do a further damage. "What are you doing?" he asked. It came out a little harshly than he intended.
And if he hadn't already felt that, Draco's unabashed crying would totally have reminded him of the fact.
"Y..you d..don…don't like it," Draco stuttered. "You hate it. And you hate me… I… I… I'm so…sorry…"
Neville heaved a sigh and gathered his tired little pregnant love to him. Damn pregnancy hormones, he silently berated himself. At least with the Carrows he knew what to expect. "I love it, Draco," he said softly. "It's… it's beautiful. You are beautiful. I was just… I was just wondering…" but his words were cut short by the lips suddenly pressed to his.
He reacted immediately, opening his mouth and letting Draco take the lead. This was the first time he had initiated a kiss and Neville wanted to see how far he would take it. Turned out Draco had no intention of letting go. It was Neville who pulled back, because he was too darn happy to die of suffocation mid-kiss – Draco couldn't resist a moan of disappointment – and pressed their foreheads together. "I missed you," he panted. "Gods, I missed you so much."
Draco grinned, standing on tip-toes to encircle his arms around his love's neck and feeling his boyfriend's erection pressed warmly against his bulging stomach. "We missed you too," Draco replied, purring slightly when Neville's large hands slipped under the dress and caressed his erection through the thin lacy material of his panties. He didn't know if it was pregnancy or Neville, but these days he was horny all the time. "We missed you so much, that we almost thought about breaking into Hogwarts…"
Neville laughed – a deep throaty laugh that went straight to Draco's cock – and sank down on his knees. He flattened his palm over the bulging stomach, pressing an ear to it. "Hey buddy," he cooed softly. "Daddy missed you a lot, you know," he looked up to catch the grey eyes peering down at him, a soft smile on the lips. A pale hand slipped into his hair and petted softly, reminding him of more pressing matters. "But right now, daddy needs you to sleep because he's going to do some really naughty things to your father…" the hand in his hair fisted and he felt the body go marginally rigid under his hand, then relax.
Neville waited a few more seconds, to see if the baby kicked – Draco had written that he had started kicking – then, when he didn't feel anything else, pressed a kiss to the tummy with a whispered "Good boy" and stood up.
-x-x-x-
The next kiss was slow… lingering. Neville wanted to take his time, savour every moment they managed to steal.
Buy it seemed Draco had different ideas. As soon as Neville's tongue entered his mouth, the need to have some contact… any contact… flooded him. He pressed closer… almost squashing his 6-month belly into Neville's stomach desperate to align their cocks together. Neville chuckled into his mouth and Draco grumbled. Damn him… damn Neville fucking Longbottom for getting him into this position. Finally, desperately, he hitched a leg onto Neville's waist, trying to find a purchase.
Thankfully, Neville helped by reaching down to cup both his arse cheeks, then pull his thighs up, till he was straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist, held firmly in those strong arms. With a strength and dexterity that had been instrumental in cutting the head of that dammed Snake, Neville easily carried him upstairs to their bedroom and gently placed him on the bed, without breaking the kiss.
Draco moaned with dissatisfaction when Neville released him and pulled back. Neville unceremoniously stripped himself and landed beside him, manoeuvering them so he was flat on his back on the bed and Draco was on top, straddling him. The quack bint they were consulting had said that this was the best position to have sex without harming the baby.
Neville reached inside the dress and found the elastic band of the lacy underwear Draco was wearing, and pulled it down, apologizing when it caught on his cock. Draco just laughed – once a clumsy Gryffindor, always a clumsy Gryffindor – and lifted his hips a little to facilitate Neville in pulling them off, belatedly realizing that he had lost his slippers somewhere on the way up. Neville was pretty sure he must have torn the lace, but that was a thought for some other time. Right now, those bloody things were just getting in his way.
He held Draco's hips as he slowly started moving against him, their erections brushing against each other and roamed his hands where he could reach them under the free flowing dress. Over the bulge… his bulge… his son… up and down his love's back. He grabbed Draco's arse, softly kneading the warm muscles, enjoying the quiet moans it brought forth. Draco's movements became faster as the need… the heat… increased. He let his hands wander up the back, over sides to the boobs… Draco's boobs…
"Why do you have boobs?" he asked again, breaking the silence, cupping the small breasts in his palms. They felt soft, just like any woman's, but fit completely in the palm of his hand.
"Si..side ef..effect," Draco gasped, as Neville rolled one of the nipples in his rough calloused fingers. "Hor..hormonal treat— Merlin, Neville… they're bloody sen..si… Oh Merlin…tive. Do… do that ag..ag..again."
Neville grinned, "You mean… This?" he asked, casually pinching the fat nipple, eliciting a loud moan of pleasure.
Later, he would take his time with them… looking… maybe sucking on them to see if they felt as similar under his tongue, between his teeth as they did in his fingers. Maybe he would even ask to fuck them, like he had seen on those muggle Porn videos Seamus had smuggled in at school. He had never tried that with any of the witches, but Draco was more open than all his previous conquests combined. Maybe, it was because he knew he was not a conquest… Neville loved him.
"Ye…yeah," Draco whimpered. "Nev… touch me."
Neville smiled and reluctantly left one of the breasts to move a hand to their cocks. Draco gasped when he touched him, took hold of him and scrambled to return the favour. Neville didn't care about that… the nights he spent here were all about Draco… only about Draco. So he didn't push the hand away, either. He moaned when Draco started stroking him, synchronizing their movements in a silent rhapsody. He couldn't help his hips jerking in Draco's hands or the low moans that escaped his throat.
Suddenly it was a race... the strokes became frantic, almost blurry... the need to let go more than overwhelming. He cupped the breast again with his free hand, kneading it harder, as he thrust into Draco's fist and pumped him with his other hand. His fingers found the nipple again. He pinched it, hard and Draco came with a cry, painting his stomach with the string of white fluid. He kept pumping and kneading, helping Draco to completion, his own need sidetracked for the moment. Satisfied that Draco was done, he reached to help Draco bring him over the edge. He came into Draco's hand, adding to the existing mess on his stomach and chest, then gently lowered Draco to the side, before stopping to catch his own breath.
Once he had all his bearings in order, he cast a wandless Scourgify over them. "Sorry," he murmured, catching the wistful expression on Draco's face "I forgot."
Draco nodded and snuggled into him. "It's okay, you're still a Wizard." He turned on his back and fingered his magic-restricting bracelet. "It's nice to be reminded sometimes that I was part of that world."
Neville exhaled, rolled himself over his boyfriend, taking care to not squish the baby. "You'll always be a part of that world, Draco," he said. He leaned down, curving his body protectively around the belly and brushed his lips against Draco's. "Whether you like it or not, he will always be the bridge that connects you to me."
Draco blushed and swatted him. "It's your fault," he said. "You knocked me up, because you didn't want me to leave."
Neville chuckled, "Yup… just your luck you fell for a Snake in Lion's clothing."
Draco laughed, then sobered. "Seriously, though. I have no idea what I would've done without you. Taking someone like me into your house… keeping me safe… lying to your friends… accepting someone else's bastard chi—"
"We've been over this Draco," Neville sat up and rubbed his face. "That's my son you are carrying. And I'd rather die than let any harm come to both of you. And, as even VoldyMoldy can attest, I'm dammed difficult to be Longbottoms are pretty hardy bunch." Draco smiled, but the tears pooling in his eyes belied his true feelings. "Now you wanna tell me what's up with those boobs?"
"Merlin," Draco laughed in spite of himself, and wiped away his tears. "What's with you and my boobs? They are for the baby… Easy for lactation, I was told. Besides they are very handy where it counts. You didn't really expect me to live here as a pregnant man, did you?" he retorted, taking in Neville's confused expression.
"You… you mean… all this time…" Neville gulped trying to process the bludger that had been launched at him. "You've been living like a woman?" he asked, when he was certain his voice wouldn't crack.
Draco nodded and extending his hand. "Drea Hathway, Neville Longbottom's pregnant girlfriend. Nice to meet you."
Neville swallowed dryly, then grinned. "Drea. I like that name. At least now I can stop acting like the 'Slut of Gryffindor' and fall into a full-functional relationship."
"Slut of Gryffindor?" Draco asked cocking an eyebrow.
"Well… I needed some excuse as to why I don't spend the weekends in my own bed and I couldn't very well tell anyone where I was going… Besides, it's not that difficult what with people literally throwing themselves at the War Hero— I didn't mean… not that I would ever… I'll stop talking now," he said hastily, taking in the tears once again beginning to form in his love's eyes. "There is no one else, Dray."
Draco sat-up and sniffed. "I know," he replied. "It just… hormones… You hungry?"
"Famished," Neville replied, sitting up to retrieve his boxers. "Don't bother," he said, plucking Draco's panties out of his hands. "I like you better without them" and couldn't help marveling at how the pale skin suddenly flushed red.
-x-x-x-
"You did all this, by yourself?" Neville asked incredulously, when they were both seated at the table.
"Not really…" Draco mumbled, swallowing his bite. "Nixie helped," he replied. "I gave her the night off. Do you know they have pubs exclusively for elves here? Seriously… it's pretty weird," he added taking in the shocked expression. "And Johann and Sebastian, of course."
"Johann and Sebastian?" Neville asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Hmm… Esmeralda's sons," Draco replied nonchalantly. "Proper Vikings. Can't resist helping a damsel in distress."
Neville laughed at the thought of Draco as 'damsel-in-distress'. But then, even they had started the same way. That flooded a fire through his veins. He gulped his wine down and refilled the glass. "Who's Esmeralda?"
"Juergensen," Draco replied. "Our neighbor," he added when Neville seemed as lost as ever. "Her husband's name is Pheobus, I swear. She looks after me. Calls me her very own Quasimodo."
Quasimodo? Neville wondered if they had started a new conversation without him knowing. "What do mean she looks after you? Does she know you're…"
"A boy?" Draco asked, sipping his virgin Eggnog. It was horrible… he missed the tangy taste of real Eggnog, but Esme had been very strict about it. Neville nodded. "Yeah. She's a squib. Her family disowned her, so kind of feels for me. She's helping me with my potions and hormonal treatments…"
"Hormonal?" Neville pushed his plate back. "Draco, are you taking drugs or something? You know, we can't risk…"
"I'm not a child, Longbottom," Draco snapped. "And this is my son too. This is the first squib male pregnancy in over 500 years. Cut us a little slack, will you? Besides she and her family have been here for me when you were too busy whoring around Hogwarts to even pay me a visit."
Neville opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. He didn't want to risk agitating those pesky hormones again. "Who's Quasimodo?" he asked, hoping it would distract Draco from the topic.
It did. "Quasimodo," Draco replied. "The Hunchback of Notre Dame? Victor Hug— Merlin! And I thought you were supposed to be the muggle loving blood-traitor. It's Classic Literature, you uncouth lout."
"Uncouth lout?" Neville laughed and stood up. "I'll show you who's an uncouth lout," he hissed, walking to the other side and pressed their lips together.