The Basket Case

by Stray

October 9, 2005

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters and make no money of it. I'm not sure I would even if I owned them.

Warnings: This is my first HP fanfic that you got to see. I'm not a native English speaker, but I try. And this is going to contain SLASH! If you don't like it, you can still read it if you harbour masochistic tendencies. Flames are used to warm my cold little heart. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Beta-ed by: Kathleen. Actually, I made quite a lot last minute changes, so there may be more mistakes in this chapter than usually.

8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8

Chapter Ten

When Draco came back to his bedroom, he found a note from Pansy, asking him not to come to her room the next morning, but to have tea with her in the afternoon. Draco understood her thinking. She had been married to him long enough to know that he wouldn't be able to contain his temperament upon seeing her; and this matter didn't concern Madame Prunes, who would be there and would undoubtedly overhear everything being said. Draco quickly composed an answer and sent it her via a house-elf, then slipped between his sheets and spelled off the lights. He didn't even try to fall asleep naturally instead he reached into the top drawer of his nightstand and took out a mild sleeping potion. He realised only in the morning that he should have taken a Dreamless Sleep Potion instead.

The nightmare that woke him in the middle of the night was the worst he had ever experienced since the beginning of his… condition. As is common with dreams, he didn't remember how it had started. He only remembered having spoken to Pansy in it. She had held a little boy in her arms that had looked exactly like Draco on all his baby photos, complete with the blond hair, big grey eyes, pudgy baby fat and mischievous smile.

"It looks just like a proper Malfoy heir, doesn't it?" Pansy had lifted up the little boy for closer inspection, whose smile hadn't slipped, even after she had handled him as if he were an object. Then she goaded him, saying, "But this heir isn't yours, Draco. That's yours."

She had tilted her head towards the middle of the room (Draco had noticed only then that they were in the sitting room where Pansy had told him she was pregnant). The thing that had been sitting there on the middle of the carpet, wearing no more than a soggy diaper, had surpassed every other nightmare he ever had, because Draco had known that it had been the result of the potion and that night in Copenhagen. When he had looked at it, the face snarling back at him had been his father's, with odd dark hair, and skin as blue as the colour Draco hated the most these days.

The little monster had stared at him with a vicious grin, and Draco could see a row of tiny, pointed teeth in its mouth. Draco had stared at it with a bewildered look, and he had only wrenched away his gaze when Pansy began to speak.

"Draco, you think you can win with that? It's not a real heir. And look at what it did to you!"

Draco had followed her hand gesture towards his abdomen with his eyes, where he had noticed a bloodied tearing in his otherwise immaculate aquamarine coloured robes. The bright blue clashed horribly with the vivid crimson of the blood. It was then that Draco noticed that the blood had come out of a wound under the robe. He had parted the hideous coloured garment to see what was under it. The wound proved to be a baby-sized gap on his abdomen.

He woke up with a start and jack-knifed out of the bed, tearing away the crumpled, sweaty sheets tangled around his body. After storming into the bathroom and starting the shower he slipped out of his pyjamas in a near automatic move and stood under the steadily gushing spray of hot water. Draco didn't know how long he was just standing there, unmoving, face turned upwards, letting the water beat against his closed eyelids, forehead and cheeks, then cascade down his nearly insensate body. He tried to ease his mind from the dream by conducting his nearly regular morning wanking session, but, as lately after this kind of dream, he couldn't get hard, even after furiously massaging and pulling on his limp cock for over ten minutes.

Finally, he turned off the tap and stepped out of the stall frustrated and consequently in a furious state. He didn't care if he left a mess, though normally he didn't like messes, even though the house-elves would have taken care of cleaning them up. He dressed quickly not even looking at what he pulled out of his wardrobe. Thanks to being Draco Malfoy, he inherently wasn't able dress badly, but he still wasn't his usual impeccable self when the door of his room banged shut behind him. The ancient gold-framed mirror next to his door frowned at him when he hurried past it, but it wasn't commenting on his appearance, which told Draco that he must look worse than he had imagined.

He didn't watch where he went, he just had to let some steam out, and that's how he ended up in Pansy's room. His feet carried him there, just like every other morning, and it was already too late to remember the note his wife had sent him. Madame Prunes gave him a disapproving look upon storming in, but Pansy just assumed one of her honeyed, condescending smiles, similar to the one in his dream. She was having breakfast in bed, seemingly not even noticing as Madame Prunes waved her wand over her body, muttering under her breath. Draco doubted that half of those examinations were really necessary more frequently than once in a month, but he understood the old witch's concern about not leaving the opportunity open for anyone to say that she had performed her work in a less than satisfactory manner while tending to the Lady Malfoy's pregnancy.

Draco's momentum was temporarily halted by the familiar scene, it seemed as if nothing had been changed by the note Pansy had sent him the night before. His wife certainly wasn't acting any differently. She was looking at him while fixing a rather large portion of greasy bacon and stringy, half cooked egg yolk onto her fork, which she promptly shoved into her mouth. Apparently, she had no problem with her appetite. Draco cringed at the sight, and made the mistake of inhaling a large gulp of the air smelling strongly of fat and smoked food before launching into his tirade that should have made him feel better. Except, it didn't. Unfortunately – or fortunately, if he considered that he really shouldn't have been saying anything about last night's discovery with Madam Prunes present – he didn't even get that far.

The lungful of aroma laden air had turned his stomach so quickly that he didn't even have time to leave with his dignity intact. He had to flee the room with his palm clapped over his mouth to keep in what impolitely and rather insistently wanted to come out right that second. He made it to his own bathroom. In his hurry to get to his destination he couldn't care less about doors left open behind him nor small objects having been knocked down here and there.

Once there, he threw himself down onto his knees, ripped up the toilet seat and leaned over it in a hurry. He emptied his stomach into it, gripping the sides of the immaculate white porcelain with eyes tearing up. He was violently sick for what seemed to be forever. He didn't understand what was happening to him. After his stomach had settled down finally, he slumped down tiredly onto the tiles and flushed the toilet before the smell made him sick once more. Pressing his throbbing temple to the lukewarm tiles he cursed floor heating for depriving him from his pain relief, but he didn't have enough strength just in that moment to sit up and press his aching forehead the sink, which should have been colder. Looking up in the middle of a beautifully executed agonising groan he always considered to be one of his special talents, he saw Bimbo, the house-elf, the one that had made hot chocolate for him, standing in the door with a potion vial in its hand.

Draco fought down his returning urge to gag at the thought of hot chocolate, and reached out for the bottle, recognising it as one of the anti-sickness potions he had brought for Pansy. The house-elf handed it to him without a word, and Draco gulped it down greedily, not caring for the bitter taste of bile that went with it, since he hadn't rinsed his mouth yet. He felt instantly better after that, and was so relieved that he forgot himself and thanked the creature, scaring it so deeply that it disappeared with a loud squeak and a headache inducing pop in a matter of milliseconds.

When it returned, Draco was already done washing his face and cleaning his teeth, the empty potion bottle banished, so no one would find it. Though he doubted that after the scene he made in front of his wife and the midwife, they couldn't guess the cause of his sudden departure.

Draco was looking into the mirror, eying his own deadly pale face, random drops of water still dribbling down of his chin, while trying to figure out what was the cause of the sudden sickness. He frowned when he realised that he couldn't go to a medi-wizard with it, since there was a chance that he would be either mistreated based upon an incomplete and therefore incorrect diagnose or his pregnancy would be revealed. The only person he could go to was Snape.

Draco hoped that during the one month that has passed since their last meeting, Snape had reconsidered his declination to help Draco with his condition. He was also secretly glad that he hadn't gone back to him after Pansy had informed him about her pregnancy to accuse Snape of lying or worse: having been ignorant. Of course, if he had, Snape would have told him straight away that the child couldn't possibly be his - before he went to readjust the wards around his house to kick out Draco if he tried to Apparate into the area.

Draco sighed and shook his head to stop useless contemplation. That was all in the past, and right now he had more important concerns. One: to find out who was the father of Pansy's child, and two: to find out what had been the cause to this sudden illness and get a cure for it as soon as possible. After a bit of contemplation, Draco decided that the later must have been the dinner he had last night or the state he had found himself in the morning and gave no cause for concern. He didn't feel worse in any other aspect that would indicate an illness or poisoning, (he cast the poison revealing charm he had been taught by his father first opportunity when he could wield a wand, just to make it sure) in fact he felt much better than before he had got sick. Additionally, his uncontrollable anger with Pansy had subsided to a controllable level and he didn't feel the urge to go into her room and yell down the roof. He hoped that it would last and he would be able to prepare himself and his plan for the afternoon when he confronted his wife.

Pansy had chosen a neutral place to their meeting, the green saloon, where they usually received Ministry guests. In any other situation Draco would have insisted on choosing the stage himself, but in this case the only paraphernalia he needed was the vial of Veritaserum his late father had succeeded to keep hidden through all those years and countless Ministry inspections. Draco had never made use of the potion in the past, but the knowledge that he had it at his disposal had given him a sense of obscure security in his dealings.

Draco had always thought that when he used it, it would be to gain influence or prestige or something valuable, not to deal with family issues or an unfaithful wife. And as such, he wasn't able to summon any portion of the victorious feeling he had always associated with the first time of having the opportunity of using such a potent tool. Right now that issue didn't seem important opposed to the desire to learn who the father of Pansy's child was.

He summoned Bimbo and gave the creature a fair amount of the potion. It would look suspicious if Draco insisted on flavouring the tea for Pansy, even more so that he had no clue how she liked it, given the fact that he was about to conduct an interrogation with her being the subject. And frankly, why bother when he had perfectly good means to deliver the Veritaserum into her tea – via willing helpers who obeyed his every whim without questions? Draco wasn't even concerned by them telling Pansy about it, since he planned to make her forget the whole ordeal. It wasn't how he had planned to use the potion Snape gave him, but now he was doubly glad that he had got it.

Draco sauntered into the green salon five minutes before the appointed time. He didn't have to worry that Pansy would get there before him since she was notoriously tardy. The only reason she didn't come late to her own parties was that they were held in the Manor, but even so she managed to preen before her vanity until the first guests arrived, and then it was up to Draco to play the unwilling host to substitute her, since he didn't want strangers to go exploring around the Manor.

Now was no different. Though Draco had ordered the house-elves to only bring the tea after she had arrived to avoid mistrust, she managed to be so late that the annoying creatures had popped into the room three times already, asking if they were allowed to serve yet. The fourth time happened just after she had seated herself in a chair facing Draco, and he gave his consent, sighing with barely masked irritation. He suspected it was her tactic to rile his nerves, giving her the advantage of negotiating with a cool head while he flew off the handle by just the smallest jab at his pride. And jab she would. He had been familiar with her methods of getting what she wanted. Except now Draco came prepared, and while he showed her frustration and impatience, he wasn't quite as far gone yet as he pretended to be - though he hadn't preserved his calm as much as he would have liked to either.

Draco observed in silence as the elves prepared the two cups. He wasn't able to distinguish the cube sugar impregnated with Veritaserum from the plain ones, but he wasn't bothered by that fact, since that meant Pansy wouldn't be either. He averted his gaze to take in the form of his wife while they waited in silence for the house-elves to vanish. Pansy had already filled out a bit, thanks to the generous breakfasts, lunches and dinners, because considering that she was in her second month it was too early to show yet. Draco was barely able to hold back a shiver when his mental eyes conjured up the image she would produce in a few months.

"Is it cold?" Pansy asked. She must have spotted the shiver. Draco was very surprised when she turned towards the fireplace and upped the flames with a spell. Usually she would instruct the house-elves to do that for her. Not to mention that he didn't remember the last time she had kept his convenience in sight. Draco observed her putting her wand into the sheath concealed between the material of her wide sleeves, and then resting her arms across her not-as-flat-as-it-should-have-been belly hiding them in her garments. It was a habit of hers Draco was familiar with. It betrayed that she wasn't as calm as she wanted to make him believe if she needed to hide her hands – most likely because of their subtle trembling.

Draco held back a sigh when the house-elves popped out of existence and Pansy reached for her cup, taking a first careful sip from the steaming hot beverage. Draco imitated her actions and was surprised by the strong, herbal flavour of the tea – it must have been one out of Pansy's recently acquired stash to help deal with one of the many inconveniences of pregnancy, like back aches, swollen ankles or stretch marks. Never mind that they wouldn't occur for a few months yet. Draco wasn't bothered by that. He discovered that he really enjoyed the rich flavour; though he usually didn't drink tea, he decided to ask the house-elves later about the type of the herbal mixture.

The Veritaserum was a fast working potion, but Draco still wanted to wait until Pansy had more than just a taste of it in her system. He didn't have to wait for long. She swallowed the hot liquid so quickly that Draco wondered how she managed it without scalding her throat. He mirrored her actions unconsciously, and before he noticed his own cup stood empty next to hers, the hotness in his stomach causing sweat to break out on his forehead. At least, he wasn't shivering anymore.

"I got the impression that you wanted to tell me something," Draco grabbed the initiative after seeing that Pansy was content with just smiling at him infuriatingly, and waiting for him to begin the conversation.

"I think I pretty much told you already." Her smile grew wider, but surprisingly, Draco couldn't detect any enmity in her gaze directed at him. "I trust you have tried out that little spell I left behind for you?" It wasn't really a question, even if her tone kept it politely as one.

Draco nodded without a word, and then took a deep breath. "So you decided to search for a solution elsewhere." Pansy mirrored his previous gesture without any sign of guilt or embarrassment, as if it was perfectly natural to cheat on one's husband if he proved to be unable to fulfil his husbandly obligations. She didn't start to dole out excuses, but was satisfied to let him continue with his questioning.

"Who is the father of this child?" Draco asked finally, figuring that it would be best to clear the situation as soon as possible.

"Cyrus," she told him without much ado.

Her answer surprised him, to say the least. He remembered the paternity spell that said that the father was a hundred percent Malfoy, but he had expected her to have cast a spell on her foetus or to have succeeded, Merlin knew how, to deceive the charm. But now he realised that she hadn't needed to do that if the father was already a Malfoy. The solution was really so simple and elegant. The spell would classify every male for a member of the family who was of age and born with the Malfoy name, from an ancestry that had been recognised as Malfoy in the past. Her plan would have been a brilliant one, wasn't it so risky due to the person she chose to be the father of her child.

"Why Cyrus?" Draco asked. She could have picked any other Malfoy. Why choose especially the one who was also after the family inheritance, and therefore dangerous… But now Draco realised that that had been exactly why Pansy had made this choice. Whatever the outcome, she would be the mother of a Malfoy heir. Pansy must have seen the realisation dawn in his eyes, because she let him continue to unravel the mystery.

"It is because he is the next heir in line," he said and she nodded. "If I don't succeed in producing a child before my next birthday, he is going to be declared as the new heir." It was a brilliant plan; Draco silently congratulated her for having successfully backstabbed him.

Pansy's smile slipped at the sight of the murderous look he gave her. She frowned, sat up in her chair, and refilled her cup with another helping of tea. At least finally she felt the need to explain herself Draco thought angrily.

"Draco, don't you see it?" Her gaze bored into his eyes, the smile having dissolved completely now. Draco sensed that her next sentence would reveal the plan behind her of her actions.

"I have researched the spell that would have to be cast, once the baby was born, to determine its heritage. It doesn't reveal the name of the father – or the mother for that matter. The spell doesn't have to be cast for a few weeks, until it can be determined that the baby would survive and be healthy. By that time you will have failed to fulfil the criteria to continue being Lord Malfoy, so the title will have already transferred to Cyrus. Since the child is his, the spell is going to declare the baby to be the descendant of the current Malfoy Lord. But as I am your wife, no one is going to suspect that you aren't the father, and therefore no one will question your claim of being the rightful heir," Pansy told him on a slow, hypnotic voice.

There was a few moments silence while Draco digested all that. He had to acknowledge that her plan was even more ingenious than it sounded at first hearing. It was a surprising fact, but actually none of the business or legal documents he had to sign called for a magical evaluation of his status in the family ranks. His position of being the head of the Malfoy family only required confirmation in extreme cases, such as this one. It was likely that he could go through his whole life without ever being discovered.

"Did you do it on the night before you told me you are pregnant?" Draco asked her, because he still needed to clarify a few facts. He was mostly concerned about the issue of Cyrus' involvement. Pansy nodded.

"I went to his party after taking one of your fertility concoctions, slipped him a lust potion and got him into bed with me. I believe you aren't interested in further details on what that entailed..." At that Draco shook his head hesitantly. "And before you ask, I Obliviated him afterwards."

"Oh," was all he could say to that.

"So? What do you think?" Pansy looked at his frowning face with a gleam that said she was infinitely proud at her machinations. And she had every cause to be, except…

"It's not going to work." Draco barely refrained from clapping his hand on his mouth like a five year old child that just realised that he had said something he shouldn't have, but the words were out before he even knew he was going to say something. He hadn't wanted to divulge anything about his own pregnancy, so he had to watch his mouth. He blamed his distracted state of mind for not having paid better attention. It wasn't like him at all to let the filter between his mind and his mouth slip. But the damage was already done and Pansy sank her teeth into the truth morsel like a Thestral into fresh meat.

"What? Why?" she inquired with a barely suppressed irritation. Draco was sure, she was thinking that his answer was a product of his inflated ego Pansy accused him of having repeatedly in the past, or his need to prove that everyone else was beneath him by finding all the little inconsistencies in her actions and nagging her about it. Draco would have been content to let her believe that. Except that his mouth seemed to shoot off again without his mind's consent.

"Because I am going to have an heir, too," he heard himself saying.

Pansy fixed him with a scornful look. "You got yourself a bastard from another woman?" she asked disbelieving.

"No."

"So what then? How would you get an heir otherwise?"

"I am pregnant." What the hell? Draco gulped anxiously. What the hell had just happened? The conversation had taken place so rapidly that his thought process hadn't even had the time to react before the words were out of his mouth. His last revelation had shocked Pansy enough to reduce her to a stunned silence, thank Merlin, so Draco had enough time to catch up with the last minute's events.

Had he truly just confessed Pansy out of the blue that he was pregnant? He hadn't even admitted it to himself in as many words yet. What had made him say it just like that? He couldn't think of a valid reason, but then the realisation hit him like a ton of bricks whose levitation charm had prematurely given out. He couldn't control his reaction to look at Pansy with a mixture of feeling violated and being alarmed. She blinked once and then gave him one of her infuriatingly sweet smiles.

"Oh! A simple Switching spell, Darling. You don't think I came unprepared and would let you put Merlin knows what into my tea? Veritaserum, isn't it? I have to say that it worked fabulously on you. Was there anything else you wanted me to drink? An abortive perhaps?"

Draco shook his head, because the blasted potion he had successfully dosed himself with made him to. She must have switched their cups after she had adjusted the fire, he realised. The hiding of her hands in her sleeves had been to conceal her casting a spell rather than to cover up their nervous trembling as he had originally assumed.

"Good to know you don't want to get rid of my child, at least for now. May I ask how you have succeeded to get yourself pregnant?" she inquired with a combination of annoyance and amusement, the first thanks to having just learnt that her plan had misfired and the second undoubtedly to thinking funny that he had got himself into this unlikely predicament.

Draco, having been forced to truthfulness, shook his head again. No, he definitely didn't want her asking how he got pregnant, because then he would have to confess everything, and knowing her sadistic nature, she wouldn't stop before having him completely humiliated by asking for the finer details, not being satisfied with a crude explanation. He tried to stand up to employ Slytherin's main directive of living to fight another day, when he realised that his robes were glued to the chair. Pansy now had her wand out openly, pointed at him, and if it wasn't enough degradation that she succeeded surprising him with the sticking charm, she also summoned his wand to her. Draco had no other choice than to condescend to a most likely utterly embarrassing session of interrogation by his wife.

"So," she leaned back in her chair comfortably, fixing him with a pointed glare that would take in every one of his reactions in addition to his words, "When did this happen exactly?"

"On the 2 September," he answered wearily. She surprised him with a short, shrill laugh.

"On the same day, I see. And who is the father?"

Fortunately this was a question the Veritaserum had opted several answers for, such as 'I don't know' or 'Scott', but he decided to go with the less harmful and also the truest of them. "I am."

Pansy scowled at him darkly, which showed that she wasn't so at ease as she would have liked him to believe. Draco realised that she had to feel cornered, and made him reconsider his approach to the questioning. He didn't want to make her angrier, not just because of her condition, but because he had experience how an angry Pansy could behave irrationally, and in his current defenceless position he didn't want to risk her wrath. The smelliest cat was already out of the sack, wasn't it? She could do no more damage to him than to humiliate him completely by making him retell the story in all of its horrific details, but that would only affect his pride and perhaps his stomach but not his life. So Draco decided to go along with her, explaining the mishap with the fertility potion that had lead straight to the events of that night.

After having finished his story, Pansy looked at him with a newfound understanding in her eyes Draco couldn't place until she opened her mouth.

"I should have known you are a pansy," she told him airily, bordering hysterical. "Figures. A pansy for Pansy…" She sighed upon realising that she didn't make any sense.

"I'm not a… pansy… whatever," Draco objected half-heartedly. Not because after hearing the tale from his own mouth he also began having doubts on his own claim on his heterosexuality, but because the extensive confession had tired him out emotionally and mentally. He hadn't even noticed when the Veritaserum had ceased to affect him, he was just too exhausted to think of new lies and excuses he could feed to his wife.

"So, how was it?" She asked with a mean gleam in her eyes.

"How was what?" Draco lifted his head not even trying to conceal his confusion.

"To have sex with a man," Pansy snorted. "I bet you enjoyed it more than anything we ever had."

"It was nothing like that!" Draco tried to instil a slight offence and casualness into his tone. Pansy didn't need to know how much that had taken out of him. "It was what I had to do in order to secure the Malfoy inheritance. Nothing more than business. In fact even less than that. The sex was just the component in a spell. Anyhow, they aren't more than animals." He didn't have to explain whom he meant by 'them'.

"Oh, yes. I forgot your pureblood… pureness. But apparently being a pureblood doesn't make you that pure, if it hadn't stopped you before committing bestiality, now does it?"

Draco paled when he realised that she was right. Then he turned a violent shade of pink, because despite of being right, he knew that she didn't really believe in what she was spouting. She was a pureblood from a venerable family, but apparently her education hadn't extended to the true meaning of being a member of a pureblood wizarding family. Her views considering certain aspects of life were disgustingly liberal. Had Lucius Malfoy known about this in advance, Draco was sure he either wouldn't have made his son marry her, or he wouldn't have stopped before he had moulded her mind, too, into the form and shape of a true Malfoy wife, not just her exterior. But his father having failed that, Draco should have done it in his stead, had he not been preoccupied with enjoying his newfound freedom. Well, perhaps after the whole predicament with his inheritance had ended.

His contemplation was interrupted by his wife's voice.

"So what was your plan?"

"Plan?" he had to remember first about what was the conversation between them.

"Yes, plan. You are Draco Malfoy. You always have some kind of… plan," obviously she had to restrain herself from putting some impolite adjective into that sentence. "Before you got yourself pregnant, or just before you came here today, what was it?"

And so Draco had no other choice than to launch into another explanation about how he had planned to explain the child. Pansy wasn't really enthusiastic about the part where she got Obliviated into thinking that the baby currently residing in Draco was hers, too, but apart from that she acknowledged the plan to be a well founded one and agreed to go with it (except the Obliviation part) until there weren't any more complications. Draco sighed with relief when she proclaimed the meeting to be finished and stood up from her chair.

"Oh, and Draco," he turned back from the door. "Just in case you have planned to relieve me of this memory, you should know that by tomorrow everything about it will be secured in a Pensieve, so don't bother with it, Darling."

Draco just looked at her and nodded hollowly until she left, and then tried to stand up – tried being the key word. The sticking charm was still in effect. Draco suspected it would take some time to dissolve, which meant that he wouldn't be able to reach Pansy before she had a chance to preserve her memories. He slumped back into the seat and let out a defeated sigh.

Why, oh, why haven't I married a Hufflepuff?

TBC

A/N: the last sentence is a reference to my favourite a cartoon as a child. I don't expect that many of you are going to recognise it, as it wasn't broadcasted in many countries, and the above sentence may have been lost in translation, too. I just felt the need to explain. Don't ask why. :)