The middle

Harry was six months along before he began to balloon up, and no one but Draco saw it. He wore loose clothing, even baggier than when he was scrawny first year, and glamour's when the bump showed stubbornly through.

"The glamour's fall when he kicks," Harry told him, placing Draco's palm on his bare stomach to feel the writhing life.

"It's almost impossible to keep up."

Draco thumbed the taut skin and felt Harry shiver beneath his hand.

"Then don't hide it; tell everyone about in on your terms before your cover is blown."

Draco didn't speak much, but Harry listened when he did.

"Alright."


Harry walked into the Great Hall at breakfast in robes that did nothing to hide his condition and walked to the front of the room where the staff table stood. He ignored how his palms sweated and his chest tightened, ignored how the clouds of the ceiling had become a deep grey. He felt like he was fourteen and the goblet had chosen his name all over again but he pushed the memory away.

It was only when he reached the dais that he realised how quiet the room was.

"Sonorous," he said, pointing his wand to his throat, and coughed awkwardly, wincing as the sound echoed off the walls.

"Hello, I'm Harry Potter," he started, feeling more than a little stupid. Some first years laughed at that, but were hushed quickly.

"I am giving an announcement, and it will be the first and only statement I will give on the matter. I want everyone to know it right, rather than hear the rumour from a friend of a friend. I'm pregnant."

A murmur started in the mass of students and continued through the staff, filling the room with hundreds of voices.

Someone had taken a quick-quotes-quill and many more had cameras. Harry's stomach rolled unpleasantly.

"I am six months along, and the child is healthy."

"Six months; so while we were dying at the Battle of Hogwarts, you were getting a good shag?"

Harry had never liked Zacharias Smith, and almost smiled when he saw Ginny Weasly aim her wand at the prat.

"I wasn't like that, but yeah. The baby was conceived on the day of the battle."

"Is the father Malfoy?" It was a Ravenclaw girl this time, small and plump, her voice carrying only curiosity.

Harry shook his head and felt his face tighten; the usual crash of emotions he felt when thinking about the battle filling his mind.

"The other father is dead; I will not state his allegiance or his name or even his house. I hope you will all respect my privacy enough to leave it at that."

Harry removed the spell and left the hall, listening to the whispers that followed.

The general assumption of the student body came later; that Harry was raped by a death eater and knocked up.

Even Ron and Hermione treated him gently for weeks afterwards, despite their anger from him hiding what was going on.

Harry didn't care what people thought; he had given his child a good start.


The bundle was a warm weight in his arms, and Harry couldn't help but count fingers and toes, couldn't help but run his fingers through jet-black hair and stare into green eyes, praying he would never see Voldemort looking back.

Draco touched his shoulder and Harry didn't react. When he left Hogwarts to have the baby, Draco had packed his bags and went with him. Even as he settled the child into the nursery, he never thought to question the blonde man claiming the room across the hall.

He was the only one who knew the truth, and Harry didn't want to scare him away by talking about it.

"James Sirius Potter," he said instead, not taking his eyes from his tiny son. "Do you think they'd hate me, for naming his son after them?"

Draco's hand tightened slightly and the baby turned to him.

"I think they would be honoured, for you naming your son after them."

Harry hummed, and held the infant closer.


Andromeda died the year James turned three, and Harry signed the adoption papers for Teddy without a second thought.

He held the boy, whose hair changed from black to magenta as Harry stared up at Draco, daring him to say something.

"He belongs in the House of Black anyway; it's in his blood."

That night they drank fire whisky in the kitchen and Harry cried and Draco kissed him for the first time, hotter than any drink. They tumbled into bed together, a mess of clashing teeth and moans and warmth, and Harry thought that as long as Draco was holding him tightly and kissing him hotly he wouldn't fall apart.

A week later and he watched as the test turned a light pink, hiding the sinking of his heart with a smile as Draco's face lit up the small bathroom.

Their marriage was small and intimate, a few of Harry's friends and Draco's parents.

Ron still didn't approve but he shook their hands and Hermione smiled enough for both of them.

"I am so happy for you two," she beamed, and Harry tried to smile back but couldn't.

No matter how hard he tried, two facts still rolled about his mind like socks in a dryer.

Nothing was ever easy for Harry Potter.

Voldemort always has a back-up plan.


Draco walked out of the bedroom they shared to see Harry standing over the green-eyed toddler, his face smooth.

Draco didn't say anything, but Harry preferred him like that.

"Sometimes I think about the horcruxs and wonder if James isn't just one more. So many people said Tom Riddle and I looked alike, you know? He had black hair and green eyes, before he changed. So many people tell me how much James looks like me; but I wonder. Does he? Does he really take after me? Or does he take after him? It isn't normal for a parent to think this way, but I do. Every time I look at him, I can't help but wonder when I'll see Voldemort looking back."

"He looks like you, Scarhead."

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and looked at little Scorpius asleep in his bassinet, Teddy sprawled across his bed.

He raised his wand even as he stared into James's sleeping face and wondered at the innocence of the babe.

"Obliviate."