Chapter 4

Stupid curse. Stupid god damned ancestors who had probably thought it was a fucking brilliant idea. Oh yes, positively brilliant. Curse their own family line in about three different ways. One to ensure that the first born would always be male, another to sterilize all Malfoy men with the exception of the youngest, and a last to make sure that should something happen to that youngest heir his father would be able to have another child. There was more too it, much more. If it had been that simple someone would have found a way around it by now, but they hadn't and he'd knocked up Harry and that was that.

Why hadn't he told Harry? Draco thumped his head against the dorm room wall in frustration. Why hadn't he told him about that? He'd told him about everything else. Well, almost everything. He had most certainly not brought up the fact that his mother read him bedtime stories right up until he left for Hogwarts, he'd not mentioned that he'd fallen off his broom well more than the average number of time before getting it right, and he would never, under pain of death or cruciatus, tell Harry he'd wet his bed when he was six.

He had, however, told him the important bits. Harry knew, for instance, exactly what he'd rather do than become a death eater (there had been some rather descriptive suggestions made), but that the thought of being disinherited was far more painful than death. Harry knew he had a pension for interior design and fashion even though he was decidedly not gay, although decidedly straight was debatable at this moment. For god's sake Harry knew he lost his virginity to Parkinson.

Technically, the answer was very simple, the subject of children had just never come up. Never, in all their talks, had either of them said 'hey, how many kids do you want?' It wasn't an issue. Staying alive was an issue and, seeing as they were teenage boys, having sex was an issue, but children were the last thing on either of their minds.

Draco buried his head in his pillow and screamed into it, slamming his fist against the mattress a few frustrated times before taking deep breaths and rolling over onto his back. It just couldn't happen. Regardless of whether his father disinherited him, regardless of whether his lost all the money, he was still the only Malfoy heir, it was still up to him to carry out the Malfoy family line.

That was, of course, unless his father killed him. Once again cursing his ancestors for their foresight in establishing that little biclause he wondered if his father would in fact kill him and have another heir. It wasn't impossible, his father was old, but not that old by wizarding standards. He was only in his fifties, if he wanted another son it was perfectly viable. The Parkinsons might be pissed off, seeing as Draco was bethroved to Pansy, but they'd get over it, and, besides, it wasn't like the marriage could go through now anyway.

Taking yet another deep, calming breath, Draco analyzed the situation, trying to get around one simple fact; he could not carry on the family name through Potter. He just couldn't. He had two options, he could wait for his father to find out and kill him, Harry, and the baby, or he could handle it himself. 'Handle it himself' meant doing something he wasn't sure he could.

He thought back to the first time he and Harry had gotten drunk. Most of the night was a blur, but there were certain parts that were very clear, one of those was Harry telling him how much he wanted a real family. But this wasn't a real family, was it? This was some fluke, and they weren't going to live happily ever after, it would be an utter disaster and that was if they lived long enough to see it through.

Lucius Malfoy was not the only concern, there was also Voldemort. How could Harry fight He Who Must Not Be Named when he was trying to take care of a baby, trying to keep it safe. The baby would become an instant target, not to mention that Harry would be vulnerable while pregnant. His magic was sustaining the life and if there was an attack, if the death eaters came after him, there was no way he would be able to fight them off.

It just wasn't right, none of it was right. Word would get out soon and when it did there was no telling how much time they'd have before Voldemort decided to take his divine opportunity to strike. This was bad for both of them, it put both their lives at risk. The middle of a war was not the time to be having children, especially not for people who were already wearing some of the biggest goddamned targets; or soon would be.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and went to his trunk, opening it quietly. After several minutes of rummaging carefully through the priceless contents he came up with a book and set it in his lap, running his thin fingers over the delicately imprinted letters, 'A Complete Guide to Herbs and Their Properties.'

Towards the back was a chapter he had never bothered to look in before, 'Holistic Healing and Pregnancy.' He found a very long list of herbs that should not be taken during pregnancy and the reasons why. Scanning the list, he took another deep breath to still his heart, which seemed to be trying to make a painful escape. Draco scrambled back up onto his bed, forgetting to close his trunk as he cradled the book to his chest, reassure himself that he was doing the right thing.

This for Harry as much as it was for him. Harry couldn't afford this. It was for Harry.

Draco did not sleep that night and was eternally grateful for the pepper up potion he had stored right next to the alcohol in the secret compartment of his double layered trunk. As he walked down the hall to lunch he brushed his fingers through his gelled hair, making sure it was securely in place, then shoved them discretely into the pocket of his robe, feeling the little vial of American mandrake in his pocket.

He'd had three choices, American mandrake, poke root, and penny royal; of those American mandrake was the most commonly used in potions. It would be very easy for the miscarriage to be blamed on him having ingested it in class at some point, especially seeing as it had to be administered in several small doses over the week rather than all at once. Mandrake, in all forms, was a fairly potent poison if too much was used at one time and he had no intentions of killing Harry. If Draco did this right, Harry would just be a little ill for a few days afterwards.

He had the mandrake, but now he had to figure out how to get Harry to take it. He couldn't very well walk up to him and say 'take this, it'll make it all better.' Harry knew him too well to fall for something like that without knowing what the hell was in the bottle and doing a good week of research on it first. Not that Harry didn't have good cause. The last time those words had left Draco's mouth was when he handed Harry the first bottle of alcohol.

Filing into the Great Hall with the other students Draco made a quick scan of the Gryffindor table, looking for Harry. And he found him. Harry, despite the bags under his eyes, showing that he had gotten very little sleep, was flushed. Hell, he might as well have been glowing. Ron leaned over and said something in his ear that made him cheeks go from slightly pink to bright red and Hermione giggled, obviously having heard.

For a moment, the blonde just watched the three. Didn't have mood swings his ass. If this wasn't a mood swing Draco was the son of a mudblood whore; whore, yes, mudblood, no. He shoved off the wall he had been leaning against and walked briskly over to the Gryffindor table. "Potter."

Harry lifted his head from the crook of his arm, where he had buried it a few moments before. The red in his cheek vanished and Draco felt his stomach drop a little. Whatever had been making Harry so happy had nothing to do with him. "Malfoy, what's up?"

Weasley shot a dirty look at the Slytherin over Harry's shoulder, but Draco ignored it, leaning down to whisper in Harry's ear, lowering his voice so the others couldn't hear them, "As long as you carry the Malfoy family heir you will eat properly." He stood straight again, feeling unwelcome and confusing pride when he noted the flush was back in Harry's face. "Are we clear?" Chuckling at Harry's quick, urgent nod, Draco leaned back down, using one hand to support himself and the other to start piling starch laden food onto Harry's plate, "Now, we need to talk. Usual place, but we'd better do it right after potions as you seem to need a good nights sleep."

Oh, now Harry was full out blushing again, even his ears had turned red at the mention of his obvious late night, "Honestly, Malfoy..." but he seemed be having trouble coming up with something to say, so he settled on, "Fine, after Potions."

Draco went to his own house table and ate solemnly, the unwelcome pride still welled in his chest. He had made Harry blush. It wasn't anything beyond a friendly interest and he knew he should have become used to this by now. It was the same way he'd felt when they'd had sex. 'Just to make him happy.' Now he was willing to do something that could very well get him put in Azkaban and for what? 'To keep him safe.' The silent after thought of 'to keep myself safe' nagged at the back of his mind, but he ignored it, focusing on Harry.

Was it more? Did he like Harry? Did he more than like him? There hadn't been many people in Draco's life that he could say he liked, and there was no one he could say he loved. The episode with Pansy had been just that, a stupid episode to lose his virginity. He'd have to have been blind to find the woman physically attractive, and her personalty was absolutely grating.

Had he liked anyone? Certainly not his father; a father who would subject his son to torture just to hear him say he'd join a defeated lord. Voldemort hadn't even been resurrected the first time he'd cursed that out of him. It hadn't taken much, at the time Draco wasn't afraid he'd have to follow through with the promise. No, Lucius Malfoy could go to hell and it wouldn't be enough. Narcissa wasn't far behind. She had never been mom, or mommy. Draco had called her that when he was four and been slapped for his effort. She was mother, only mother, a cold, indistinct, dispassionate tittle that fit her very well. She may not deserve retribution, but she never did anything to deserve his love.

By the time he found himself waiting in the abandoned room for Harry his mind was swimming in thought. The closest he'd come to actually trusting anyone, before Harry, was Snape. Professor Snape had never told his father anything. No matter what Draco had done, no matter how he acted up, Snape always took it upon himself to lecture and reprimand him rather than going to Lucius. There were times, early on, when he'd been mad at Snape for that, mad at the attention he wasn't getting from his father, but in the end he was always grateful.

So, he liked Snape, even if the man was being an utter ass as of recent he still hadn't turned him over to his father when he'd cocked an attitude the other day. A small chuckle escaped Draco's throat as he remembered calling Snape a bastard. He really shouldn't have gone that far, but thinking about it now he realized exactly how much he must trust his professor to have said that.

Not that any of this was helping him decide where he stood with Harry. He knew he liked him, but he liked Snape too and in an entirely different way. Draco had never, and would never, go out of his way to make professor Snape blush or laugh or smile. Harry on the other hand... When Harry smiled he lit up a room. When Harry laughed Draco could hear it from across the Great Hall. When Harry blushed his insides twisted up. When Harry blushed for him it was all he could do not to blush back.

Lifting his knees up, Draco hung his head between them, his hand clenched around the muggle Coke spiked with the American mandrake that he intended to give Harry. He'd remembered, and god only knew how, Harry saying he really liked Coke, but that he was lucky if he got water at the Dursleys' and at Hogwarts it was almost unheard of, literally.

He tried not to imagine Harry's face when he saw it. Draco could see Harry's eyes in the back of his head, bright and just that shade of green. Damnit! He could not be in love with Harry Potter. Concerned was bad enough, but love? "Not good, not good."

"What's not good?" Draco's head shot up and saw Harry's head peaking into the room. "Sorry it took so long to get here, Professor Snape wanted to see me."

Taking a deep breath, Draco felt the cold can against his fingers, condensation dripping into his palm, "About what?"

"He says I'm not concentrating." Harry smiled strangely, "Like I ever do, right?"

Draco took a deep breath and held the coke out stiffly towards Harry, "I thought you might like this."

The eyes were a perfect match to his imagination, but the starved look on Harry's face as he grabbed the can and popped it open, probably draining half of it in one gulp, was nothing like what he expected. With a deep sigh of relief, Harry slide down the wall and sat next to Draco, "Oh, god, so good."

After a moment of forced silence Draco laughed, sudenly not caring who heard, "You make it sound like sex, Potter."

Harry winked suggestively, taking another gulp and moaning lewdly, "Better than if the sex is with you."

Draco started to elbow him, but stopped short, smirking instead to cover the sudden pang of hurt in his chest that he didn't feel like investigating. "Potter, look, I know I got weirded out yesterday. It's just that 'I'm pregnant,' or variations thereof, was not something I expected to hear."

"I never expected to have to say it, but I think I'm getting used to it. Maybe it's easier for me because I've always wanted it. Well, not wanted to get knocked up, but I did want a family, so I suppose I can live with the inconvenience of timing or whatever. It just doesn't matter."

When he heard Harry put the empty can down he closed his eyes for a moment. Damn, no way to deny it, that was guilt he felt eating at the inside of his stomach like acid. "So, what's the great plan? I'm assuming getting our own apartment after graduation is not an option anymore."

Harry shook his head and started to stand up. Draco noticed him leaning heavily on the wall for support and jumped up to help, guilt eating even further into his conscience. The Gryffindor shook off the offered arm and straightened, "Stop that. I'm not... delicate or anything, just tired."

Draco found himself grinning mischievously, "You are too delicate. You're about as skinny as an undernourished house elf and you fall off your broom at least once a year."

He dodged Harry's swinging arm, seeing the amused light glinting behind the green eyes, the mouth slightly upturned in a poorly hidden smile and, without allowing himself time to really think, grabbed the back of Harry's head and kissed him. It was quick, it was over in an instant, but for some reason it felt longer. Nothing more than a peck. He'd twined his fingers into the unruly black mass and pressed his lips to Harry's, just to see.

Pulling back, he scrunched his nose up, purposefully not looking at Harry's shocked face and limply hanging arms. Well, at least he'd managed to kill the guilt with a good old fashion dose of embarrassment. They had kissed when they had sex, open mouthed and passionate, but he hadn't been paying attention; too much of his brain had been caught up in 'oh my god, I'm about to have sex with a boy.'

Draco had thought, or rather hadn't, that kissing Harry again would help him make up his mind, and it had. The only problem was that now he had even more questions than before. Harry seemed to be coming out of his shock induced state, "What was that?"

The Slytherin shrugged, brushing hair out his face, noting offhandedly that it was blonde again. Harry's retribution usually didn't last very long. "A kiss. I thought maybe I liked you as more than a friend."

"Do you?"

He looked at Harry's face and rolled his eyes, "I don't know."

Harry looked around the room uncertainly before closing the door, silently thankful no one had been passing when Draco had decided to kiss him. That was the last thing he needed. "Malfoy, do you like me as more than a friend?"

For a nearly a minute the only sound was their breathing. When Draco spoke Harry nearly jumped in start, "Yeah, but not like that. I don't want to talk about it."

"Then you probably shouldn't have kissed me." Draco leaned against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Malfoy?" The tone was more demanding than questioning.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at Harry, trying to figure out how to say he didn't know without looking like a complete moron. "I... don't know." 'Oh brilliant, now I sound like the peak of intelligence.'

Harry was staring at him like he had lost his mind, not that he could blame him. "All right. You like me as more than a friend, but not like that. Lets start with how do you like me?"

Turning the question over in his mind Draco frowned, "Does it matter? I'm not answering your stupid questions, Potter."

"Yes it matters!" Harry put a hand on stomach, "I am pregnant, Malfoy, with... with your child." His brows furrowed, "What the hell made you suddenly like me, anyway?"

God, if Harry would just move away from the door he could make a break for it. "The whole baby issue. I just started thinking about it, and I realized I do worry about you all the bloody time, no matter how hard I try and deny it, and we hang out a lot. I know I spend most of that time pissing you off, but I still -I can't believe I'm admitting this- like being around you. So I just thought maybe that meant something more, but I kissed you and there wasn't anything there so that means I still have to figure out why I like being around you and why I'm concerned."

For a moment the room was utterly silent, then Harry put his hand up to his mouth, chuckling into it. Draco scowled, "Don't you dare laugh, Potter. Pregnant or not, I will still kick your ass."

Harry shook his head emphatically, trying desperately to control his laughter, "I'm not laughing at... no, wait, I am."

"Sod off, Potter"

"No, look, Malfoy," Draco glared as Harry tried to keep a straight face, "You like me the way you like your father."

The blonde's eyes slitted in revulsion, "I in no way think of you like my father. I don't want you dead."

"Then a brother."

The revulsion doubled, "You and the Weasel are like brothers and I refuse to be put in the same category as him."

"A cousin then." When the thin mouth opened to protest again, Harry put his hand over it, "A very distant cousin. The point is you like me like you like family."

"And what makes you such a fucking expert?"

"Not an expert, just observant. Think about it, Malfoy, in the meantime, I've got homework."

In the back of his mind, jumbled among the thoughts of 'if' and 'he could be right,' Draco noted that Harry went the wrong way as he left the room.