The second time I woke the next day, it was from Potter's movement on the mattress. I'd woken up once already, relieved myself, eaten breakfast, worked out a plan, and gone back to sleep, all without waking Potter.

I cracked open an eye just in time to see him fall onto the floor, tripping himself in the blankets. The bright sunlight coming in the window blinded me. I slammed my eyelids shut, but not quick enough to prevent a sudden headache.

"Stop moving the bed," I complained. The movement was making it worse.

"Draco! You're awake!" he exclaimed, disentangling the blankets from around his ankles. Why did he have to be so loud so early in the morning?

"Have to be, after that, wouldn't I? I think you shook the house," I said sleepily. In spite of my headache, I did my best to be my usual charming self. I didn't want to make him aware of any of my pregnancy symptoms and that included the handful of headaches I'd had in the last week.

"Sorry."

"It's the house you should be apologizing to. Old bones and all."

He muttered another, "Sorry," and climbed back onto the bed on his hands and knees. Again I felt the movement jarring my brain. "It's your house now and all, so of course you're worried about that."

It occurred to me then that headaches were one of the symptoms of a hangover. Since that fit my plan, I decided to come clean about it. "It's not my house and I know you're fine. Stop trying to garner sympathy when my head is killing me," I said. I pressed my forearm over my closed eyes in an attempt to ameliorate the pain by blocking out the sun.

"It's not your house?"

"No, it's still yours. It just listens to me sometimes." Blocking out the light didn't help, so I let my arm fall and tentatively opened my eyes. That didn't go so well. There was a lot of blinking and rubbing my temples. I ended up sitting up sort of hunched over to go at it in a more comfortable position.

"Are you alright?" he asked, examining me.

"Hung over. And hungry. It's already noon," I said, looking at the clock on the bedside. My head was bad, but I knew I needed to deal with the hunger first, or I risked a relapse of morning sickness. I caught sight of the muggle snacks I'd left up here yesterday. They were greasy, salty, and carb-laden, but they had this convenient seal that meant they didn't go bad and came in tiny little packets, making them perfect for leaving by the bed. I tore open the package and started scarfing them down. "These are disgusting, but soo good."

"You're hungover? Were you drinking last night?" Potter asked, sounding skeptical. He was looking me up and down, as if there was some tale-tell sign of a hang-over.

"Oh yeah." With a little bit of food in me, I was quickly feeling better. "My head is killing me. At least there's only the one of you now. Good looking out on that one; double does not look good on you."
"What are you talking about?"

"Last night. There were two of you and you told me to look at you, but I couldn't figure out which one to look at."

"You were seeing double?" he asked. I nodded, shoveling in more of the muggle snack. "You were drunk?"

"So drunk. I don't think I've ever been that drunk. After a while you stopped talking in words, I was so drunk." Best to keep as close to the truth as possible, so that there was less lie to remember.

"That's why you stopped responding? I thought you were just tired."

"I was tired. You woke me up, when I was trying to be passed out."

"But you don't drink!" he exclaimed, making a circular gesture with his hands, as if he was just now putting it all together.

I did drink, but when I'd moved in here the first time, I'd told Potter I didn't. I was four months sober for a reason, but he didn't need to know that. "And now you know why. Clearly I'm not very good at it," I lied.

"What did you drink? You didn't try one of those illicit potions they take in the night clubs, did you?" he asked accusingly.

"No!" I answered indignantly. I was about to say I'd never do one, but then I stopped myself. If this happened again, it might be good to have a couple vials of funny potion around to explain it. I didn't have to take it, as long as he thought I had.

"Well then what did you drink? Firewisky? Vodka? For someone who doesn't drink, you sure were awfully drunk.

"Wine, if you must know. I had a bottle all to myself. And I don't drink, you know that. I don't have the tolerance you do. How many butterbeers did you have last night?"

"About a dozen and I was clearly the sober one. You're telling me, one bottle of wine had you that drunk?"

"Yes! Didn't you smell it on me?" I asked, knowing that he was too tipsy last night to have been able to.

"No…" he answered, but didn't sound sure of it.

Reaching into the snack bag and coming up empty, I looked inside to verify. "Bags empty and I'm still hungry."

He sighed and said, "I'll cook," as he rose from the bed.

"And can I have one of your hangover potions? You have some, right?" I asked, getting up too.

"You need one? You don't seem that hungover."

"I've a ragging headache. Your interrogation of my drinking habits didn't help. Oh, and I better not ever hear you complain when I refuse to have a drink with you, after this. No more, 'Come on, Draco, one drink's not gonna hurt.' You were wrong. It hurts." Might as well rub it in, in case he wants me to prove my ability to ingest wine.

"Sorry. I keep it under the sink in the bathroom. You do know it makes your breath stink like moldy fish, right?" he asked, heading towards the door.

I followed after. "I'll brush my teeth," I promised. I wasn't going to take it. I wanted to, because my head still hurt, but it wasn't safe for the baby. I'd take a Willow Bark instead.

Potter made eggs, bacon, and toast by hand. He liked to cook whenever he wasn't too busy. I figured it was because his decrepit elf wasn't much of a cook, but then Potter wasn't that great at it either. Neither could compete with the elves at the Manor.

It wasn't until after the meal that he started back up with the questions. "How's your head?"

"Better," I admitted, but quickly thought twice about answering honestly. "Not great, but better. I'm not in the mood for a full interrogation."

"Just the half interrogation then," he said and I groaned. "Come on Draco, you need to tell me what's going on."

"I drank too much. I just wanted to forget," I lied.

"Not about the drinking. What happened with you and your girlfriend? Why'd you show up here?" he prodded.

I'd never imagined my pretend fiancé to be female, but now that he said it, I went with it. A witch was better anyway; easier to accidentally get pregnant. "We broke up and my parents kicked me out."

"They disowned you!? Over that? Just because you didn't go through with their stupid arranged marriage?" he asked incredulously.

"They didn't disown me. They kicked me out, until I get my life in order. They just want me to grow up." My shoulders were raised, up against my ears. My parents weren't monsters. I didn't agree with what they did, but I did understand it.

"And that's why you freaked out?" he asked, hands reaching out to cover mine.

I nodded.

"Oh Draco! Come here," he said, taking me into his arms. I sank into him, enjoying the comfort. "It'll be okay. You just need to tell them about us. We love each other. Surely they'll understand."

"Mother will. Father hates you," I revealed.

"You don't think they'll approve of us?"

"Well Mother did bring up the possibility…"

"And?"

"And Father said he'll kill you."

"And what did your mother say to that?" he asked.

"Oh, she had several inventive suggestions. Marry you, kill you; one of the two."

He groaned. "Lovely."

"They settled on killing you."

"No wonder you ran away. Draco, I'm so sorry this is happening, but I promise you, it'll get better. Your parents will get used to the idea and this whole mess will go away."

"Are you sure?" I asked, wanting his vision to be possible.

"Absolutely, they love you too much for it to be otherwise."

I nodded into his chest.

We stayed like that for a long time, during which, I had time to think. I had him off my case, but not out of the house. It was only Saturday afternoon; he didn't go into work until Monday morning. I still had more of my lie to tell, but this wasn't the time to tell it, because if he found out now, he'd spend the weekend interrogating me about it. Plus, he'd be mad at me and wouldn't want sex. If I was putting up with him for the weekend, I better at least get a lay out of it.

Author's Note: I decided to stop here, because the rest of the day will be mostly sex.

I'd like to thank yukino76 and Ern Estine 13624 for taking the time to review. Your reviews inspire me to write, so please keep them coming.