You know those inane debates drunk people have over stupid stuff? Potter and I had one of those over whether or not I had a fever the night before. This was a sticking point for me, because I was most definitely not sick today and fevers weren't a symptom of being a lush; at least not one I'd ever heard of before. Due to the lack of admittedly sober observers, there was no real way to settle it. Ultimately we agreed that I may have been a tad bit warm, and he had definitely been cold.

Next we had a bit of a tiff about the letters he'd sent me during the past two days. I hadn't read them, because I hadn't been ready to. Now I wanted to read them, but they were gone. I got Potter to admit to destroying them, which upset me, because I saved all of his letters, even the embarrassing, groveling, and threatening ones. Now my collection was incomplete and I didn't even know what the missing letters said. My collection was permanently ruined and there was no way to ever fix it. That thought made my pregnancy hormones kick in, so I avoided him for an hour or so, in order to calm down. And no, I didn't want Potter to write me a new letter to make it up to me, although I did later retrieve the scrap of parchment he wrote the apology on from the bin, in order to add it to my flawed collection.

When I calmed down later that afternoon, I sprawled out on his bed with a book to read. That's where I was when he found me. I wondered how long it would take him to find me here.

"Are you still upset with me?" he asked from the doorway in a tone that seemed very unsure of himself.

"No, just don't touch my things again," I warned.

"Okay. What are you doing?"

"Reading," I answered innocently.

"Reading in my bed?" he asked, a predatory smile on his face. According to the rules I'd taught him before, if I was lying in his bed, it was an invitation for him to have sex with me.

I nodded, making room for him. I was at the sweet spot, no longer sick and barely showing, and he'd already seen me naked last night. No reason not to.

He climbed in after me, pulling off his pajamas as he went. I left mine on, self-conscious about my recent weight gain and wanting to minimize the time I was exposed to him. Instead, I reached out and helped pull at his clothes.

Then he was leaning over me, naked, with his predatory smile in place and pulling at my shirt. I leaned up to kiss him, something I rarely did—I always waited for him to kiss me—but, this time I wanted to distract him, so I snogged him properly, shrugging out of my pajama bottoms in the process.

Potter was a fast learner when it came to sex. He still needed his reassurances to get going, but once he did, he could be brilliant at it. Could be, because he had a tendency to either blow right away or to take two hours to do it.

"It's been months. I haven't since…" I waved my hand around the room, trying to indicate that I hadn't had sex since I left him. Even with my fantasy ex-fiancé, I hadn't pretend bottomed.

"So I need to prepare you first?" he asked, remembering what I'd taught him. I hadn't meant to be his teacher; I didn't want him leaving me and knowing what to do in the bedroom with someone else, but some things can't be helped.

I nodded and reached over, taking him in my hands. Time to get rid of the naughty first orgasm. I took my time with it. This might be my last time fucking Harry Potter and I wanted it to last.

While my hands were on him, his hands were on me. He pushed one of my knees down to the bed, exposing me. He looked at me like he had never seen a naked man before, like how he'd looked at me that third time. "You're so beautiful," he said, staring at my bare crotch.

I murmured my agreement, not bothering to point out that saying that to my crotch was less preferable than him saying it to my face. That was just how it was with Potter; ill-placed sap and copious declarations of undying love, even when I tried to keep it just sex.

His touch was slow, tentative at first. He was gentle, tracing over me, like a blind person seeing with his hands. He explored my body, his hands on my thighs, my crotch, and my stomach. Two flat palms pushed up my expanding belly. "Have you put on some weight?" he asked.

I glared at him. He'd been with a witch; he should know not to say anything about their weight.

Potter blushed red and stammered. "No! No, I didn't mean it like that! It's hot; you're hot. So hot." He leaned down and kissed my lower abdomen, right in the middle, where his child was. It felt so unbelievably nice, but I couldn't have it.

"Leave it. I'm bloated. Wine doesn't agree with me. And the stress eating. You have no idea how awful it is to try to force yourself to love someone my father picks." I let go of him and repositioned his hands lower on me, where they belonged.

"Alright, sorry. I didn't mean any offense. I was just aiming for your nipples. I remember how sensitive they are." He abandoned my bits in favor of my chest. My chest was swollen too. Ever since that one week that I couldn't keep anything down, it was swollen and more sensitive than usual. Silently I hoped he wouldn't notice.

He kept his comments to himself as he touched, cupped, and explored the two barely there puffs of skin around my nipples with his hands and then with his tongue. It felt so good that I had to remind myself I was supposed to be satisfying him. When he stopped, he left one hand on my chest, as he trailed the other down my body.

*censored

He cuddled me, reaching around and rubbing my shoulders and my back. "Oh! Right there!" I called as he found a sore spot. Stupid pregnancy had my back aching and without a partner, I'd had no one to rub it. Now that I did, I wanted to keep Potter around, if only for the backrubs.

"Your muscles are tight. Have you been doing a lot of lifting or something?" he asked as he put more pressure into the massage.

"Gutting a room on the fourth floor. I decided the house needs a remodel," I explained. I'd used elf labor to do all the hard parts, but he didn't need to know that, like he didn't need to know that carrying his child was the real cause of my pain or that I was going to turn the room into a nursery.

"Remodeling other people's houses, is that a pureblood thing?"

"Are you forgetting the state of that room?"

"Oh yeah, that was Fred and George's room…"

I didn't know what he meant by that, but I guessed Fred and George were the names of the wizards who had destroyed the room. I didn't want to get into that, so I let it go, instead concentrating on the feel of Potter's firm hands working all of my aches and pains away.

He continued until all of the kinks were out. Then he encouraged me to sit up, so he could more easily reach my nipples.

"You're so beautiful. Your face, your body, perfect," he said, stroking my sensitive nipples.

The attention he was giving my nipples was very good, but he kept dipping a hand down, stroking over my belly.

"Stop, tickles," I complained, pulling his hand back up. It didn't tickle, but I didn't want his hand down there. The bloating was uncomfortable.

"You don't need to be self-conscious of it, Draco. Your body is perfect. Your arse is so perfect. Everything about you is sizzling hot. You don't need to bother losing the weight; it suits you."

I poked him in the belly. Then I did my best to tickle him there. He started laughing.

"Alright, fine, I get the point! I'll lay off," he said, hands up in a gesture of appeasement.

Smiling, I guided one of his hands to a nipple and the other down. He got the hint.

*censored

Author's note: I know there's not much too this chapter besides the sex, but if you all review I'll work extra hard to get the next chapter out right away. The next one is sort of major, because it's the one when Harry leaves and Draco doesn't let him back in, for good this time. I'm eager to flesh it out and could use some inspiration from all of you. I'm thinking the only thing that could make Harry go, is an Auror-type emergency. And we all know how Draco feels about Harry's job…

Please review!