(A/N: Rated M for mature content and language.

Thank you all for the follows, favorites and reviews!

Warnings: MalexMale slash. Lil bit o' Smut. Language. Mentions of Mpreg.

Enjoy. :))

"Should I even ask?"

Harry looks up sheepishly and shakes his head, pausing mid-chew to try a smile. Thankfully, his mouth isn't too full to do it and he snickers when Draco wrinkles his nose adorably and just sits across from him at the small table. He hurriedly finishes chewing and swallows. "What?" he asks, staring at his plate for a moment before looking back up at Draco. It's only pie.

"What he says," Draco says dryly. His eyes flick down to Harry's plate before returning to Harry's face and he smirks. "Nothing," he finally says, waving a hand dismissively. He doesn't really care what Harry eats, as long as it has his husband enjoying it and making those happy little hums. "So. What is it?" he asks, unable to squash his curiosity. It almost looks appetizing...

Harry twirls his fork around between his fingers and gives Draco a measuring look. Is the blonde serious? "It's pie," he says flatly.

"Ah, yes, I did notice that. But what kind of pie, love?"

Harry scoffs and spears a piece of the filling, holding it up. "Apple."

"And?"

Harry blinks. "Oh! That's cheese," he says, pointing to the rather bright orange strips going across the pie. "I heard cheese is good with apple pie," he says with a shrug, folding the bite of pie into his mouth. "That whole, complimentary flavors, thing," he adds, mumbling through his mouthful.

"How in Merlin's name is that classified as cheese?" Draco asks, pointing to the unnatural colored 'cheese'. "It looks revolting, love."

Harry snickers. "Ah, well that's probably because it came out of a can." He grins and takes another bite of his pie. The canned cheese isn't exactly as cheesy as he likes, but he's come to love the stuff. "It's Muggle," he adds, unnecessarily. He can tell by the look of mild disgust on Draco's face his husband has figured such a thing out. A twitch of his finger and the can zooms over towards him. "See?" he says, holding it up. He pops the yellow cap off and wiggles the can in Draco's face.

"I see," Draco says, leaning back a little from the nefarious looking nozzle aimed at him. "Anyway," he says, watching Harry upend the can over his pie and assault the dessert with more 'cheese'. "I thought I'd warn you. My mother is under the impression you're pregnant."

Harry stills, his mouth opening in a gape and only managing to swallow on reflex. "What? But— How— Why?" he sputters out, unsure how to react. He had only just found out, how could Mrs. Malfoy have figured it out? They had no intention of telling his parents tonight (if ever, depending how the visit went). He knows Draco hadn't said; his husband hadn't left his side the entire time and he never noticed any subtle gestures that would indicate Draco telling either of his parents in their weird 'don't have to talk' pure-blood way. He doesn't think that's what Draco stayed behind to say, either, because they had promised to share the news as a couple.

His hands drop from the table to his stomach. His brows pinch as he squeezes and prods at himself; he doesn't look pregnant already, does he? He groans softly. He does, he knows it; he looks fat and bulgy! Not the 'just a bit chubby' Draco keeps telling him whenever he bitches and moans at his reflection.

"She's a keen woman, Harry," Draco says, watching Harry feel himself up. He'd offer his own hands for the task but he knows Harry's doing his 'I'm a fat whale' inner monologue at the moment. His husband rarely response favorably to his lewd offers when he's in that mind-space. Later, he reminds himself, he'll thoroughly cover Harry's body with kisses and licks that not even Harry can deny as proof of his unending attraction and adoration.

He nods when Harry finally looks up and, reluctantly, nods in understanding. "And no, she didn't discuss it with me but I could tell she was thinking it when I left. I've no intentions of actually telling them, love," he says softly, grabbing one of Harry's hands from his lap. He mostly just wants to stop Harry from doing his poking, assessing, prodding thing he's taken to doing. He rubs a thumb over Harry's knuckles and smiles when the grip loosens.

"Yeah, OK," Harry finally mutters. "Think we can just deny it? Or avoid them?"

Draco snorts, amused that he'd been thinking the very same thing. It's tempting... but ultimately unrealistic. "Probably not, love. My mother was quite... smitten. She won't allow us to keep our distance from them any more." He sighs, quite saddened to realize their happy times without being bothered by his parents are pretty much over. "Well, on the plus side; they'll spoil our kids with presents."

"How is that a plus side?" Harry asks, quirking an eyebrow. He glares when Draco only grins, not at all impressed with his husband's opinion. "And I'd really rather they didn't go overboard with presents and the like."

Draco nods. Yes, he expected Harry to say that. "I'll see what I can do, love, but it's just how my parents are. Maybe..." he says slowly, hoping Harry won't immediately say 'no' to what he has to say. "Maybe it'll help James be more comfortable around them. I hardly think he'd like my mother to just suddenly start hugging him and cooing at him."

"True," Harry says slowly. James had been very reluctant to interact with Draco's parents past a wave from across the room. Of course, it didn't help that Narcissa hadn't done more than smile at him (which was quite shocking, even if it was the merest upward quirk of her lips) and Lucius had only glared at his son. He really doesn't think bribery is the way to go, even if he knows the chance of it working are pretty high.

"But still," he adds, waving his fork in emphasis, "I really don't think spending Galleons will help, either. They can either be normal old grandparents that spoil our kids with love and cookies, or they can bugger off."

Draco snickers and only makes a non-committal humming sound. "I'll speak to Mother; see if she's willing to rein it in a bit, yeah?"

"Whatever," Harry says through a mouthful of pie. He grins cheekily when Draco gives him a flat look, obviously unimpressed he's spoken with his mouth full. By the time he's scraping his fork along the plate, collecting sticky remnants and crumbs, Draco is looking decidedly interested again. "What?" he asks, swiping his fork along his outstretched tongue.

Draco shakes his head a little. How Harry can do everything but lick his plate clean and give him that innocent expression is beyond him. He watches as Harry stands and heads towards the sink. Just before Harry can flick his wand, cleaning his few dishes, he crosses the kitchen and presses himself along Harry's back. He's a little giddy when Harry immediately responds, his grip on his plate and fork loosening and sending the items into the sink with a loud clatter.

He peeks over Harry's shoulder but once he sees nothing broken, he lowers his lips to Harry's neck and applies the lightest pressure. As expected, Harry moans softly at the light touch. He slides his hands around Harry's hips, sliding them into the front pockets of Harry's jeans. "My mother also mentioned she'd like to visit," he murmurs, pressing a line of kisses along Harry's neck. He wants to sigh softly when Harry tenses, his head turning a little in an effort to look at him.

"What? Why?"

Draco does sigh. "Because she'd like to visit, love. Why else?" He chuckles softly when Harry's sound of annoyance tapers off into a moan, his fingers wiggling against the crease of hip and thigh through the lining of Harry's pockets distracting his husband for a moment. He slowly draws his nose along Harry's neck, smiling softly at the way Harry's hips shift backwards. "I didn't answer her, yet, of course. What do you think?"

"Ask me later," Harry demands in a breathless whisper. He can't think straight, not with Draco's hands now roaming his hips and thighs as that damned mouth nips and kisses along his neck and shoulder. He doesn't want to agree to anything simply because his Slytherin husband abused his quick-to-react body. The opportunistic bastard.

Draco hums softly, agreeing. As tempting as it is to get Harry to just say yes, tempting and teasing the affirmative with his hands and mouth, he really doesn't want an ill-gotten 'yes' to bite him in the arse later. Their couch is lumpy and he knows Harry won't hesitate to recommend a night (or two) on it for extorting a positive answer from him while his brain was momentarily short-circuited by lust (as well as swimming in hormones).

"Just think about it, yeah? Mother really wants a chance and I'm sure she can keep my father in line." He's actually quite confident she can, he's seen it enough times to know his mother is a force to be reckoned with. He foolishly, in his arrogant youth, thought it weakness on his father's part... until he'd been similarly 'handled' by his own spouse.

"I'll think about it. Later," Harry promises, arching against Draco's front when a hand slides down his stomach and under the waistband of his jeans. He releases a pent-up breath, moaning softly, when Draco's hand closes around him. It should be annoying that the grip is immediately perfect and fucking exquisite; it's not though, it's just perfectly arousing and he's panting in no time. His hips move of their own accord, rolling and shifting forwards into Draco's hand and then back to press against the blonde's hips, a moan coming out each time he feels the firm bulge press against his arse. He bites his lip, belatedly realizing he's making lots of noise and he really doesn't want to risk waking James.

Draco groans softly, pressing against Harry's back and arse each time his husband arches backwards. It doesn't seem at all odd that they're standing in front of their kitchen sink, moaning and rutting against each other. He's surprised to realize he's almost as close as Harry and he speeds up his movements, very familiar with the way Harry's breathing and clutching hands signal how close he is. The pair of them are gasping and grunting together softly and moments away from coming in their pants like a couple of randy teenagers.

He muffles himself in Harry's neck, both from his own orgasm and the sounds he makes as he enjoys hearing Harry gasp out his. He chuckles softly when Harry goes completely limp, sighing happily as he tips his head back for a kiss that Draco eagerly returns.

"Ugh," Harry groans, wrinkling his nose as he wriggles a little. Now that he's thinking a bit clearer, he's slightly annoyed at the mess he's stuck with pressing uncomfortably against his crotch. He huffs out a resigned breath when Draco's lips are back on his neck and shoulder and those hands slowly slide out of his pants to loosely grasp him around the hips.

Draco merely hums in agreement. He'd like to be annoyed he hadn't gotten either of them more naked, but he can't be. Not really. He's still feeling too damn good. He concentrates and cleans them both with a burst of magic, grinning into Harry's temple when he hears a happy little noise as a result. He waits until they're both breathing normally, tucked against each other comfortably, before he speaks again.

"It's later."

"Yes, it is," Harry says on a sigh. He wriggles free enough to be able to turn in Draco's hold and look up at his impatient blonde. "Fine," he says with another sigh. He can't exactly refuse Draco's wishes and he's tempted to demand the ability to kick out the elder Malfoys if they don't behave themselves. Of course, the pure-bloods wouldn't dream of being rude but he knows his definition of 'manners' and theirs varies a bit too much for his complete comfort.

Draco grins, pecking a kiss on Harry's pout. He chuckles and can't help rubbing their noses together when Harry only scowls up at him, obviously trying very hard to stay annoyed. "I'll owl Mother, give her a short list and expectations."

"Is that... Are you sure?" Harry asks, trying not to chew his lips. He's torn between accepting, adding his own things to the list, and chiding his husband on thinking they can tell grown wizards (and his parents, for Merlin's sake) what to do.

"Oh yes," Draco says with a nod. "Very sure. Look, they both know how to behave themselves in any social or political situation. However—" He raises his voice a little, interrupting Harry when his mouth goes to open, "This is a new experience. I refuse to put up with my father's attitude and I know they'll be a bit surprised at how we do things." He knows he's putting that last bit mildly and by the look Harry sends him, his husband very aware of it.

Harry nods back, squaring his shoulders in false confidence. He's pleased to know Draco is willing to do such a thing, and he nods again. "Right. Good."

"I don't believe it," Lucius murmurs, reading Draco's note over his wife's shoulder. He really wishes he was one to roll his eyes, because that tripe really calls for it. The nerve of his only child! "Does he truly believe us to be stupid?" he murmurs with a slight sneer.

Narcissa hums softly, reaching over her shoulder and lightly patting Lucius' cheek. "No, beloved. He believes you to be a judgmental old so-and-so and is obviously trying to reduce the chances of a scene." She hums again, re-reading the paragraph about James, mostly just because she enjoys hearing about the little boy. She can understand why her son felt the need to send such a note, so she's not as offended as her husband, but she also knows it probably won't help much.

She turns her head and raises an eyebrow when she takes in Lucius' slightly pinked face and drawn eyebrows. Oh, he's definitely offended. And angry. How expected. She returns to the note, relief and joy warming her when she reads the invitation to dinner being extended for that Sunday. She really can not wait.

"I should write him back, let him know how things truly are."

Narcissa huffs softly and turns, wrapping her arms around Lucius' waist. She smiles when he relaxes and a hand gently rests atop her head. "Please, darling. This is important to our Draco. You have been a bit of a beast to his husband..." she trails off, nuzzling his abdomen slightly.

"I've only given him the respect he's earned," Lucius says with a soft sniff.

Narcissa smothers the urge to slap her husband. But not the one to call him a liar. "No, I'm afraid you haven't. Not only does he deserve the highest respects for past deeds, but also simply for being Draco's husband. You've been dreadful, darling. And unless you wish to stay at the Manor when I visit them, you'll need to adjust that." She leans back enough to give him a stern expression, pleased to see his wary expression.

"Do you honestly believe my own son would keep me from his home? From my grandson?"

"Yes," Narcissa murmurs, getting to her feet. She re-folds the letter and tucks it carefully back into its envelope. "I believe he will. Harry and James are his priorities now. You should be proud of him, Lucius, for taking your teachings about the importance of family to heart."

Lucius wants to argue. He wants to deny his wife's certainty... but he can't. He's aware of where family loyalty lies with the Malfoys but he hadn't actually thought it would no longer apply to him first and foremost. It's a sobering realization. He straightens his waistcoat and robes, flicking off imaginary lint and barely-there wrinkles before giving his wife his full attention.

"I'll keep that in mind, my love."

Narcissa merely nods, kissing Lucius' cheek before leaving in a swirl of robes. It's enough that Lucius realizes their new position in Draco's life, she's not going to lose any progress he's made my belaboring the point. Besides, she's got a letter to her son to write. She wants to accept the invitation and give their vow to 'behave' as soon as possible.

Lucius pours a tumble of firewhiskey and settles into his large, comfortable chair. He gently swirls the liquor, staring at it as he ponders just how he's going to manage being 'nice' and keep his opinions on child-rearing to himself.