This is the final part. Thank you all for your comments and support.

It was almost like a time-turner had left him back in the week before Christmas. Harry avoided him as much as possible, eyes dropping to his belly whenever he thought Draco wasn't looking. It was almost welcome; even though it always caused Harry's jaw and fists to tighten, simply because otherwise it felt like he didn't exist, as carefully as he was sidestepped and looked away from. The only difference were the evenings in the workroom. Harry could speak to the notes, the table, the cauldron, discussing whatever ideas or adaptations Draco made to the current project during the day.

At least that seemed to be going well. Rowan had good results, if only briefly, before causing the potion to fail spectacularly. It was a slow process of ingredient substitutions in an attempt to stabilize the potion, and he threw himself into the research to try and keep his mind off anything else. He also found himself gravitating back to Harry's chair, no matter how much he cursed himself for finding comfort in its smell and cushions.

Thinking about how much he missed Harry's smile was only slightly better than thinking about the baby growing inside him. Much better to lose himself in potions research. The slow pace of research was only a bonus; the time that passed meant he had some ability to talk to Harry, and the month-long silence of the house otherwise pressed in on him and left him with nothing to do but think.

.oxo.

Pans,
I'm pregnant. Harry's not talking to me at all. I don't know what to do.
Draco

.oxo.

"This isn't working..."

Draco glanced blearily through the cauldron fumes at Harry, who was rubbing his eyes under his glasses. It was late, well after midnight, and he was exhausted. They both were. It was the only reason his mind didn't immediately jump to the obvious when he asked, "What?"

He cursed himself for giving Harry the opening to tell him to leave when Harry did the unexpected instead. He looked up at Draco directly for the first time in a month; his face was pale and frustrated. "This. Rowan. We've been trying to find the right stabilizer for over a month. The best we've gotten is a potion that holds steady for about 5 minutes. We can't give a potion like that to anyone. What would happen when it destabilizes once it's actually been ingested? Don't answer that."

His mouth twisted into a faint smile. "Well you shouldn't ask, then..."

Harry sighed, dropping his head back into his hands. "We have to look for something else... I was so certain this would work, but if we can't stabilize it to the lacewing-"

"Wait."

Harry looked up at him again. "Wait what?"

"I'm an idiot." He ignored Harry's swiftly raised eyebrow as he pushed himself up off the bench and around the table to where Harry was sitting with the notes. "Lacewing. We were thinking about stabilizing the Rowan because it was the addition to the potion..." He pulled the parchment out from Harry's hand and began marking off the trial additions they'd made. "It's not the Rowan that's destabilizing the potion, or not entirely. It's the lacewing."

"So if we stew the lacewing...?"

Draco nodded, still hunched over the parchment making notes. "We should stew a large batch. We may still need to stabilize the Rowan, so we should be prepared for it to still take several trials to finalize the formula."

He was shocked at the feeling of arms reaching around him, hugging him close, Harry's head burrowing into his side. "This is going to work, isn't it?" The words were muffled against his robes, and his heart clenched, causing his eyes to fill with tears. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into Harry's embrace. He raised a trembling hand instead, running it gently through Harry's tangles.

"It is going to work. Three weeks for stewing, maybe another to finish everything else." His words were soft, and he stared down at Harry's head, taking in the exhaustion of his posture. "You should sleep. Take the bed. I'll get the lacewings started."
Harry pushed himself back upright, his arms still around Draco, and watched him for a moment. He wasn't certain what Harry was looking for, exactly, but he eventually smiled, then nodded before finally releasing him and pushing himself up from the bench.

"Don't stay up too late." He gave Draco's arm a gentle squeeze before he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Draco collapsed onto the bench, overwhelmed by something that felt like hope.

.oxo.

Draco,
Well, what do you want, darling? You've been a bit of a wanker. Do you want Potter? If you do, you're going to need to work that little arse off to convince him to keep you. Have you tried groveling?
Your Pansy

.oxo.

Draco slept remarkably well curled up in Harry's chair; well enough that he was surprised by the sunlight cutting a bright shaft across the floor when he woke; a certain sign he'd slept later than usual. Pushing himself up, he checked the lacewing before grabbing a vial of anti-nausea potion, downing it quickly before his stomach could decide to rebel.

He was surprised to see Harry still in bed when he opened the door to the main section of the house. He was even more surprised to note how tangled the sheets were as Harry didn't usually move much in his sleep. He tried to suppress the feeling of uneasiness when he waved his wand to start the water for the tea, quietly setting bread and honey on the table for breakfast.

When the tea was finished, but Harry still hadn't woken, the earlier feeling of uneasiness had grown to dread. He approached the bed, the pale clamminess of Harry's skin growing more and more obvious as he neared. "Harry?" He hesitated before reaching out and touching his head. The cold sweat worried him even more. "Harry, wake up." Pushing the sweat-damp fringe back, he leaned closer. "Harry, please wake up."

Finally his eyes opened and Harry stirred, a frown crossing his face. "Draco? What are you doing?"

"How do you feel?"

Harry looked at him a moment before he sighed and closed his eyes again. "Like I was hit by a bus. You shouldn't be touching me, Draco."

"How long?" His jaw was tight with frustration, but he kept his hand on Harry's head. "You said you had some success with treating it when it's caught early. How long?"

Harry was silent long enough that Draco considered actually grabbing a handful of the hair brushing his fingers, just to get a reaction. "Long enough."

Draco let his hand fall from Harry's face and reminded himself he shouldn't punch him. "So you've had some success with treating it early, and that applies to everyone but you? You want to go blind? Suffer magic drain?"

There was a drawn-out period of silence before Draco pushed himself up from the bed. "Do you want tea? Toast? Anything that can help slow this down while I finish stewing these fucking lacewing and we can fucking fix you?" He distracted himself with pouring tea and toasting bread, finally turning back to look at Harry when he couldn't focus elsewhere any longer. "Well?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"You're a fucking Healer. Of course, you were thinking. You don't get to where you are if you catch the fucking plague you're trying to treat by accident. I can only wonder what you were thinking because it makes no sense!"

"I thought it would finally make you leave!"

Draco dropped onto the stool, staring at Harry. "Make me leave? If you wanted me to leave, you just had to say. You didn't have to..."

"You refused to move forward on the divorce. I was trying to give you an out, a reason you could divorce me but still save face."

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to divorce you? That I came to this fucking place so I could try and make up for what I did? So we could move on?"

"No! Why would you do that? You fucking love him!"

"I don't fucking love him, I love you, you-" Draco clapped his hand over his mouth and turned away on the stool. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Did you want tea or no?"

Harry's words were quiet when they broke the heavy silence of the room. "Why did you do it, Draco?"

Draco grabbed one of the mugs and took a sip before staring into it. "I... I don't know. He was just always there. Familiar. I didn't have to think about how strange it was... I was scared." He let his words trail off and placed the mug on the table, burying his head in his hands. "Yes, we had something back in Hogwarts. He went to Paris immediately after graduation and I didn't hear anything from him after. Part of me always wondered what if. I had no good reason. I regret it, but I don't have a time-turner. Does that make this better?"

The silence stretched again before Harry spoke quietly. "If you could help me to sit, I'd like some tea. Please."

He sat for a moment in the renewed silence before nodding. "Of course." When he reached the bed, Harry was watching him with a shuttered expression he knew mirrored his own. Focusing instead on the pillows, he helped support Harry to sit before returning to fetch the tea and toast. He waited, ensuring Harry could manage the mug on his own before speaking again.

"I wouldn't have followed Blaise to a two-room hut in the middle of nowhere. And I certainly wouldn't do it just to avoid divorcing some Savior. I'd get the divorce and then move to Paris with Pansy. Now I'm going to leave a message in the box to see if I can get some already-stewed lacewing sent before this gets any worse. Then I'm going to go into the workroom and stay there for a bit while I decide if I'm going to murder you or not. You can yell if you need me for anything or if you know of anything I can do to slow this enough that you'll still be functioning in a month when we should have a potion ready."

"You should eat..."

His mouth twisted faintly in response. "Then I'd waste all that lovely anti-nausea potion I just took. Will you be needing any?"

Harry sighed. "Probably."

"Good, I'll brew up some more this afternoon."

.oxo.

Draco marked time in potions. He knew them all by sight: pain, anti-nausea, healing, cleansing, muscle and nerve bolstering, each at a different time, a different dose, a different frequency. Mornings, he woke up in Harry's chair with his wand vibrating an alarm sometime around sunrise. He took his violet potion, then made his way into the main part of the house where he started tea and toast, before bringing Harry violet, yellow, yellow. Some mornings Harry would put on his glasses after choking down the final yellow potion; some mornings he wouldn't bother. Draco would bring him tea and toast, then sit at the table and eat a solitary meal.

Some days they spoke, but Harry insisted they stay as far apart as possible, even with the Healer's modification to the Bubblehead Charm he'd taught Draco.

After breakfast, Draco would return to the potions lab, where he spent the next several hours restocking the potions cupboard. At noon, his wand would buzz, or he'd hear a knock on the door, and he'd give a box of brightly-colored vials to a local man with sad dark eyes. Lunchtime meant violet, orange, yellow, sometimes clear. Harry would eat-a cold sandwich was the extent of Draco's cooking ability-he frequently cursed the lack of elves here, and Draco would try to persuade him to drink more water before giving up and picking at his own sandwich. His afternoons were the same, his buzzing wand signaling a break from the cauldron and the start of tea and another round of orange and yellow, another attempt to get Harry to eat. Evenings he would take inventory, sending messages for new foodstuffs or ingredients, listlessly flicking half-hearted cleaning charms around the house, attempting to move quietly lest Harry awaken.

Dinner mirrored breakfast: violet, yellow, yellow. Sometimes, one or the other would be ravenous, and would eat a double portion as if to make up for the picking they'd done the rest of the day. Sometimes, they wouldn't bother trying.

Each day he checked the lacewing. Each evening he marked another day closer to moving forward on the potion. Each night he fell asleep to nightmares that the potion wouldn't be enough, that Harry would give up before it was ready. Each morning it was a relief when Harry attempted to smile through the potions, or greeted him, or woke up.

.oxo.

A supply of stewed lacewing arrived the day his own batch was ready. He laughed, and his explanation as to why caused Harry to smile in response. The entire house seemed lighter, tinged with relief, and Draco opened the windows to the balmy March breeze before moving to the cauldron to begin the first batch of experiments in stabilizing Harry's potion.

He'd prepared what he could in advance: chopping and crushing and applying stasis charms, boxing up potions for the locals, making certain to have a ready supply of bezoars. He left the door open between the rooms, trusting the open windows to keep at least most of the fumes away from the bed. He talked Harry through all he was doing, each variation to the amount of Rowan or lacewing, each experiment with stabilizers, making notes of the changes and Harry's suggestions. He paused only when his wand reminded him to bring Harry his potions, or when Harry complained of hunger or thirst, even though he knew Harry was really just reminding him to eat as well.

The third evening had three likely potions cooling in their cauldrons overnight, as well as the beginnings of a new batch of stewed lacewing and a demand for an indefinite supply in the message box. Harry had spent most of the day unable to see. The muscles in his arms were of almost no use. But Draco still had a spring in his step as hope overwhelmed him. He comforted himself that Harry was also in markedly high spirits.

"You shouldn't be sitting this close." Even Harry's voice was weak, so Draco snorted and shoved a bite of bread into his mouth before he could wind up the oft-repeated lecture on proper safety when dealing with the plague.

"Bollocks. Tomorrow we'll be testing the new potions, and then we'll have a cure. If I fall ill, I'm not going to hide it and let it fester like some people." He shoved another pinch of bread into Harry's mouth before the indignant expression on his face could lead to another argument. "You'll be Longbottom. I'll be Snape. Luckily, I've fully stocked us with bezoars."

His grin was wicked when Harry groaned, and he regretted Harry had taken to keeping his eyes closed over the past weeks to try and counter the disorienting abruptness of vision loss.

.oxo.

The next morning, Draco stood before the cauldrons staring at the three potions awaiting trial. All three were varying shades of a ruddy peach; all three held together through the brew; all seemed stable, but something about the center always struck him as more true than the others throughout the brewing process. Perhaps it was the trueness of the shade, or the faint hint of a sweet, almost vanilla, scent of the final result, but he trusted his training enough to know when to follow his instinct. Taking a deep breath, he decanted it to a vial and swiftly grabbed a bezoar, before opening the door, eyes immediately drawn to Harry's sleeping face.

"Harry?"

His gentle shake prompted a pained groan as Harry stirred, but he made no move to open his eyes. "Time to try the first batch?"

Eyeing Harry critically, he paused. "Well, if you need anti-nausea, I can get that for you now and we can try this in two hours or so..."

There was a pause where Harry obviously considered that, but he shook his head. "No, let's try this. If it works I hopefully won't need the anti-nausea."

Draco nodded to himself, and then carefully reached around to help prop Harry up, raising the vial to his lips. He waited while Harry swallowed, bezoar in hand, waited for two breaths, then three before Harry groaned and tipped forward, clutching his stomach and trembling violently. "Fuck..."

"Bezoar?"

Harry shook his head, sweat already beginning to drip down his neck. "Nerve repair."

Draco grimaced, knowing enough to imagine the burning, tickling pain a nerve repair potion could cause. "Once it's finished, I'll get a pain potion for you."

Minutes passed and Harry finally began to relax, collapsing back onto Draco. "Fuck."

"Yes, you said that." Draco didn't want to move, still holding Harry tightly to his chest, near collapsing into him as well. "I'm not going to ask how you feel but..."

"Trampled by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs." His voice was hoarse, but stronger than it had been in weeks. Harry raised a hand slowly, then made a fist. "Atrophy, weakness, not unexpected given the month of not moving, but not as bad as it could be. My vision is blurry, so I'm still in glasses. It's closer to full recovery than I expected. Which potion did you use?"

He didn't bother raising his head from where he'd buried it against Harry's shoulder. "Rowan with powdered moonstone."

"Huh. I wonder if the moonstone acted as an amplifier as well as a stabilizer." Draco shrugged, relief making him fully aware of the haze of exhaustion he'd been working through while focused on Harry. "Could you give me my glasses? And some pain potion now please?"

Sitting up, he passed Harry the glasses and pocketed the bezoar again before returning to the potions workroom for a pain relief draught. When he returned, Harry had managed the pillows to leave him somewhat in a reclining position, and the sight of green eyes open behind familiar specs released a knot of tension in Draco's shoulders and caused a relieved smile. "Sorry, if I'd been thinking I'd have brought it with the bezoar." He cracked the seal and lifted the vial to Harry's mouth.

"You look terrible, Draco."

He blinked and straightened abruptly at the quiet words, a shaft of hurt striking him before the words fully processed. "So sorry I didn't think about my appearance before bringing you the potion I was hoping would save your fucking life, Potter." He hated the unbalanced feeling of defensiveness and found his hands had moved to cover the slight bulge he'd begun to feel low in his belly.

"That's not what I..." Harry sighed and rubbed his face, head dropping back onto the pillows.

After a moment, Draco sighed as well, too exhausted to fight anymore. "I understand. I'll send an owl to Granger and see about arranging a Portkey back to London once someone can come-"

"That's not what I meant." Harry's voice cut across his, sharp with frustration. "You look exhausted, and you're much too thin. You're giving me flashbacks of sixth year, and..." Harry took a breath and looked at him again. "You're pregnant. You need to take care of yourself. I'm worried about you."

He watched Harry a moment, but the earnest expression didn't falter. Finally he gave a faint nod. "Alright. I am tired. I'll just go and rest another hour or two..."

His words trailed off again when Harry shook his head. "Stay?"

Harry reached a weak hand for him. He climbed into the bed and curled into Harry's embrace. He smiled widely for all the word implied. Stay. Home. Harry.

.epilogue.

Draco huffed a breath as he transferred the squirming toddler in his arms from one hip to the other, attempting to get her exuberant black curls away from his mouth. It felt like years since he had been to Diagon Alley, though he knew the early summer sunshine meant it had been closer to six months. He looked in the windows of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes once again, noting Harry was still speaking to George at the counter, both smiling and ignoring the clamouring of children and frantic racing of parents surrounding them. Violetta once again threw herself in the direction of the large ice cream cone dancing outside the doors of Amelina Fortescue's Parlour, throwing him off balance enough to send him stepping briefly back into the flow of pedestrians just as he caught a familiar reflection in the window approaching him.

"Draco!" Blaise's smile was as wide as his arms, offering an embrace. "It's good to see you!"

Draco took a breath and turned to greet his former lover, cringing inwardly as Violetta tucked herself under his chin, cautiously eyeing Blaise, dancing ice cream temporarily forgotten. He knew the moment Blaise registered her appearance, shock causing his expression to go blank for an instant before morphing into something closer to avarice. Clutching Vi tighter, he gave a polite nod. "Blaise. It's been a long time."

Blaise's gaze remained fixed on the child, flickering to Draco only briefly. "Draco... She... We..."

"No." The sharpness of his voice drew Blaise's attention back. "We nothing. She is Harry's daughter."

"But Draco, it's obvious-"

"No, Blaise. She is Harry's and he is hers. It takes more than a night to be a father." He quieted when he felt a familiar hand at his shoulder, and Vi launched herself again, this time into Harry's waiting arms.

"Zabini. Good day." Harry's voice was quiet but assured, and Draco felt himself leaning back slightly, taking comfort in that strength.

"Potter." Blaise nodded once, gaze again riveted on Violetta.

"I hear you're transferring back to England. Congratulations."

"I... Yes, I am. Thank you. Are you two back as well?"

Draco felt Harry's hand slide slowly from his shoulder and down his back, and he could feel the sudden tension at the question before he answered smoothly. "No, we're here to see Mother and the Weasley's before returning to Paris with Pansy while waiting on Harry's next assignment."

"I'd hoped we'd-"

Draco shook his head at the same time Harry answered, "I'm sorry, our time here is rather full."

"Draco can we..."

"No, Blaise. I'm afraid we can't. And we really must be going now."

As he turned and took Harry's hand, he smoothed his robes over the slight roundness of his belly. His eyes locked with Blaise's, his expression conveying a finality that made Blaise step back and nod quietly.

"Goodbye Draco."

"Goodbye." They allowed themselves to become swept up in the Diagon Alley crowds, Violetta once again demanding ice cream with each step, Harry laughing as he bounced her. He glanced back once before they turned into the shop; Blaise remained, a tall dark figure standing still in front of the garishly flashing store, before ducking his head and turning to become lost in the flow the other direction.

Looking back at Harry, who had knelt with Vi near the counter as he pointed out flavors, he felt his heart swell. He walked to the counter and gently fingered two sets of impossible dark hair. Harry's expression was guarded when he met it, and he smiled in reassurance before leaning down and placing a brief kiss on top of his head.

"I love you."

Harry's smile was as wide as it had ever been, but he responded quietly. "Thank you. I love you, too."

.fin.