(A/N: Rated M for mature content and language.
Thank you all for the follows, favorites and reviews.
Warnings: MalexMale slash. Language. Mentions of mpreg.
Enjoy. :))
"Oh sweet Merlin."
Harry looks up, not all that surprised to see Draco standing in the kitchen doorway and looking completely gobsmacked. And a little unsettled, verging on disgusted. He knows why, and a glance at their son makes him smile despite Draco's look of horror. He shrugs a little and goes back to his task, twirling his fork and carefully tucking the rolled-up pasta into his mouth.
"What is that?" Draco asks, pointing between the two plates as he eases into the kitchen and sits across from Harry. He's keeping a wary eye on his complete mess of a son, quite justified in fearing for his suit and pristine hair. James is entirely covered (probably even down to his training pants, for Merlin's sake) in something red and... chunky looking. There are noodles scattered about the mess. All in all, James is a sight. And he looks like a bit like a farm animal, messy and content with life.
Harry rolls his eyes a little, slurping a loose noodle into his mouth. He licks sauce from his lips and snickers softly when Draco's attention is immediately on his mouth. He might be teasing a little when he licks his lips again, but he's really only being thorough in his cleaning efforts. "It's spaghetti, love."
"P'sketti!" James says loudly, agreeing as he nods enthusiastically. The movement makes a few noodles plop off his face and hair, landing in his lap. He grabs them with a happy sound; he thought he'd eaten them all! He slurps the noddles into his mouth, giggling when Harry does the same with his next bite. "More p'ease!" he says, holding out his plastic bowl. He wiggles it imperiously when neither parent moves to take it and refill it right away.
Harry sighs softly and takes the bowl, casting a mild cleaning charm on the outside as he stands with a slight wince, his free hand going to the small of his back and rubbing a little. He dishes more pasta and sauce into the bowl and cuts it into more manageable pieces before sliding it onto James' tray. He smothers the urge to chuckle when James dives in, with both hands, and makes a soft noise. As soon as James' looks up, he tucks a plastic toddler spork into James' less messy hand. He rolls his eyes when James immediately switches it to his left hand and manages to spill half of the spaghetti out of his bowl in the first attempt of using the utensil.
He makes a sound that has James glancing up and putting more effort into using his spork. James is not as clumsy as all that, having mastered the use of forks and spoons awhile ago, but Harry's willing to make small concessions because spaghetti is a bit difficult to eat. He gives a half-hearted dab at James' face with a napkin and eyes his son again when he goes to drop his spork.
"'K, mumma," James sighs and uses his spork. It's not as fun, and he gets a lot less noodles into his mouth, but he uses his spork so he doesn't get The Look from either parent. He scowls as another noodle slithers off the end and makes a grab for it with his fingers when both parents' attention is elsewhere. He settles on shoving the noodles onto his spork with his fingers and it's a pretty effective system.
Draco smirks and scoots his chair closer to Harry. He's always amused when James says 'mumma', especially since Harry doesn't seem to mind the title. It's certainly easier than James just calling them both 'da!' and trying to sort out which of them their son is referring to if they weren't in eye-line to see whom he's looking at. "Can I have some?" he coos softly, leaning in and eyeing Harry's plate briefly.
"Sure," Harry says, sliding his plate away when Draco leans in a little more. "Get your own," he adds, grinning. He raises an eyebrow when Draco leans back and has the nerve to pout and look thoroughly put-out. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten how dangerous it is to get between me and food?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and raising his fork ever-so-slightly in a could-be-threatening manner.
Plus, he's really not keen on getting up again any time soon. His feet and back hurt. Draco, the lazy git, can dish his own damn food.
Draco slowly shakes his head, lifting his hands and holding them out in surrender. No, no he hasn't. He's quite aware how dangerous it is. He leans forward again, sliding his hands down Harry's chest until they rest on the protruding baby bump, caressing it gently through the soft fabric of Harry's t-shirt. He has not forgotten how protective of his food a pregnant Harry is. He'd merely hoped for a small sample, to see if he'd like his own serving. Just because his husband and son enjoyed the dish, didn't exactly mean he would. They've both proven to have less than discerning palates...
"Right."
Harry huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands. He gets Draco a plate and dishes a small portion of spaghetti, adding a little extra sauce. He's pretty sure his blonde husband hasn't deigned to try spaghetti before but he's also pretty confident it'll be enjoyed. If the git wants more, he can get it himself. He slides the plate in front of Draco and settles back in front of his own with a soft sigh as he kicks his feet out under the table.
"What's in it?" Draco asks, leaning forward a little and sniffing. It does smell delicious, even if it appears to be extremely messy.
"Noodles!" James says loudly, holding out a handful of messy spaghetti towards his father. He wiggles his fist a little, noodles slapping against the outside of his hand, when his offer of sharing isn't immediately accepted.
Draco laughs and nods along, shaking his head at James' offer. His son merely shrugs and proceeds to tuck his hand into his mouth and going back to his own serving with a happy little hum. He looks at Harry and watches his husband expertly twirl the long noodles around his fork and tuck the entire package into his mouth. He waits until Harry chews before repeating his question.
"Spaghetti noodles and tomato sauce," Harry answers, trying not to roll his eyes. He raises an eyebrow when Draco sniffs at the pile of noodles again, looking hesitant. He knows what sort of things Draco won't touch (or can't because of only a few allergies) and he's momentarily annoyed. Of course, it's mainly hormonal so he takes another bite, swallowing noodles and irritation. He glances back up at Draco and can't suppress the eye roll this time. "There's nothing offensive in there, so just try it."
Draco huffs and picks up his fork. Harry's noodle-twirling is deceptively easy looking and he manages to make a mess when he attempts it. He glares at the splotch of tomato sauce on his shirt, shifting his gaze to glare to his husband when the prat has the nerve to laugh at him. It takes a few more attempts, and a few more splotches, before he manages to get a decent twirl going and he's finally able to sample the food.
He chews slowly, nodding his head a little as the flavor and texture hits him. It is good. Really good. "It's good," he says when he realizes Harry is looking at him, waiting for his opinion. He wraps more pasta around his fork and chuckles softly when Harry gives him a smug little look. "Yes, yes, love, I like it."
"Tolja so," Harry mumbles through another bite of pasta. He settles back as he cleans his plate and manages to keep the irrational urge to giggle down when Draco stands and gets another serving, grabbing James' bowl on his way to the large pot on the cooker. He watches as Draco cuts up James' next portion and sits down again. He's hit with another irrational urge to start weeping at how sweet Draco is. Sodding hormones.
Draco pauses, an artfully (if he says so himself) twirled roll of spaghetti half-way to his mouth. "You alright?" he asks when he notices Harry blinking furiously and rubbing at his nose. He carefully tucks the bite into his mouth as Harry nods vigorously, his watery green eyes flicking between him and James before he drops his head down. He notices James has paused in his face-stuffing and is giving Harry a similar look of concern.
"Yeah," Harry says, waving a dismissive hand. "Just, you know," he says, waving a hand in the vague direction of his belly. He's only mildly uncomfortable, just starting to really round out with their second child, but still; it's answer enough. He pushes a piece of nearly-forgotten garlic bread at James, giving his son an encouraging smile. James' eyes him for a moment, making sure he's okay, before nibbling at the bread.
Draco hums and goes back to eating, watching Harry nonetheless. "I realize now isn't the best time, but my parents owled."
"And?" Harry asks, trying not to sigh or pout. The visits with the elder Malfoys aren't terrible, but they've gotten more frequent now that it was obvious there was another grandchild on the way. Narcissa even touches his belly! It's not a big deal for him but he never expected the woman to be so... handsy and affectionate. Lucius still sits in the one wing-back chair, scowling lightly and sipping firewhiskey or elf wine, but at least now he stays blessedly quiet.
James even likes to spend time with them, even if he tends to be a little extra clingy (mostly with Harry) for a few hours after they leave.
Draco carefully sets his fork down and wipes his mouth. "They'd like to visit tomorrow." He fights the urge to wince (or run out of the kitchen) when Harry's head jerks up and he scowls. Bugger.
"Tomorrow?" Harry asks slowly. He sighs when Draco nods warily. Why didn't his parents understand that he needed more time than that? He hated rushing around making sure their home looked presentable. It wasn't as bad since James is old enough to pick up after himself (mostly), but it's still aggravating.
"Yes." Draco nods. "Tomorrow. It is Sunday, after all." It shouldn't be that big of a surprise; his parents always choose to visit on Sundays. And he wouldn't be at all surprised if the visits gradually get weekly. Double bugger. He can see Harry tense and he's tempted to slide across the table and snog and pet him until he's relaxed and happy again.
Harry purses his lips and clenches his hands in his lap until the urge to snap something scathing goes away. Draco is merely the messenger, after all, and it's unfair to scream or rant at him; especially now that's he's calming down. He can see his husband doesn't look thrilled about the whole thing either. He can only imagine how stressful the visits are on Draco, having to balance himself between his family and his parents.
"Yes, I'm aware of what day it is. I was merely concerned at the lack of notice."
Draco inclines his head, trying not to smirk at Harry's trying-not-to-be-pissy tone. "I did mention that," he says, taking a long sip of water. He was just as irritated at the short notice, but saying 'no' wasn't really an option. He wipes at his mouth again, stalling and hoping Harry doesn't explode at him. He notices James is still, his face smeared but his eyes wide as he looks between them. He hopes Harry sees that as well and he doesn't start ranting and raving. "Mother was quite insistent."
Harry snorts softly and rubs at his temples. "I bet she was," he mutters. He stands abruptly, conjuring a warm cloth and attacking James' messy face, chest and hands with single-minded determination. He must look rather ticked off because James sits still, making no attempts to fuss or wiggle away like he usually does. He rubs at James' messy hair, and the cloth comes away full of sauce as well.
"You're a right mess," he says affectionately, ruffling James' hair. He grins back when James gives him a cheeky, proud smile. "Bath I think." He pulls off James' messy shirt and chuckles when James bounces in his seat and starts chattering happily about bubbles and his rubber ducky.
Draco watches Harry work James from his highchair and snickers when a few errant noodles land on the floor with a muted squishy noise. Once Harry has James tucked up on his hip, he stands slowly and inches closer. "Is that alright? I will tell them to bugger off if it's really going to be a problem."
"No," Harry says with a long, drawn out sigh. "It'll be fine. I'm just..." he trails off, waving a hand around distractedly. "Being a Potter," he ends with a sniff and an eye roll. He probably shouldn't be annoyed Lucius likes to point that out, as a subtle insult, even though he's not technically a Potter any longer-not since he married and took Draco's surname.
Draco chuckles softly and kisses Harry's temple. He lowers his voice so James' won't hear. "Don't listen to that old bastard, love." He slides an arm around Harry's waist and pokes at James' naked chest, smiling when James grabs his finger and laughs. "Right, love? Grampa is an old meany who just likes to whinge."
"Yeah!" James loudly agrees, giggling and shaking Draco's finger around. "Old meany!" he parrots, grinning when Draco nods his agreement.
Harry snickers and nudges Draco gently with an elbow. "Don't say things like that. He'll only repeat them at the worst possible time and embarrass us all."
"Yes, dear," Draco says dutifully. It doesn't go past his notice that Harry doesn't disagree, though.
Draco nods as he greets his parents, the pair of them stepping through the floo with care and grace. He lets James rush over to greet them, raising an eyebrow at his father when the older blonde makes a face- his disapproval clear. His father should know by now, whether he agrees with it or not, that he doesn't hold his son to the same archaic, stilted behaviors he was raised with. He refuses to stifle his son's enthusiasm or do anything to remove his bright, happy smile.
His mother, Merlin love her, accepts the boisterous greeting from her grandson with a smile and returns the hug, bending down in her fine robes to hug James tightly.
Harry makes a soft noise when Lucius' hand slowly reaches out and he gently, lovingly, pats the top of James' messy black hair. It's brief, but still... The pinched look isn't as severe either. Harry looks at Draco, trying not to openly gape, and sees a look of muted surprise on his face as well. Good, so he's not the only one surprised.
Pleased. But surprised.
Lucius still eagerly accepts Draco's offer of a Scotch (the older blonde's eyebrows pinching lightly with disdain at the offer of Muggle liquor, but he accepts it and takes a sip nonetheless). He still sits away from them all in the wing-back chair, but he's not scowling as fiercely and he actually offers short, one word answers when he's engaged in conversation.
"So, Harry," Narcissa says brightly, gently rubbing over the swell of his belly. She's still surprised he allows it, especially from her, but she's not going to look a gift Thestral in the mouth. A soft flutter against her palm has her fighting tears, overwhelmed for a moment because she has the chance to be involved this time, and she has to clear her throat softly before she can speak again. "Have you found out the gender?" she asks, looking up. She's not at all surprised to see his green eyes dart to meet her son's, the pair of them sharing a warm look.
"No," Draco says, looking at his mother with his chin tilted up a bit. "We didn't care to know."
He expects both of his parents to scoff or demand an answer, but he's pleasantly surprised when they both just make sounds of acceptance. His father actually nods a little, his lips pursed thoughtfully before his gaze slides back to James, watching the little boy play nearby with a set of Muggle letter blocks. There's pride and affection in his usually cool gaze and Draco has to blink a few times.
Maybe his father is a bit more in his cups than he first thought... Or he's finally come around a little. He's pretty sure he has his mother to thank for that, and he makes a mental note to send her a large box of her favorite French chocolates as a thank-you.
Narcissa sighs softly, a small smile on her face. "Oh, that's lovely. A surprise!" she says, clutching her hands together and bringing them to her chest. She rubs at Harry's belly again, laughing brightly when he adjusts her hand to a spot lower on the side and she feels another press against her palm. "I would so adore a granddaughter," she murmurs softly, mostly to herself. While she loves her family, the whole stubborn lot of them, she really wouldn't mind a bit of a balance to the testosterone...
Harry nods, having been the only one to have heard Narcissa. The thought of a daughter brings a small feeling of terror (what does he know about girls?!), but he can't help wishing for one anyway. Hopefully, if they have a daughter she'd take after Draco in the hair department... he can't imagine a cute little girl cursed with his untamable hair.
He rubs a hand over his belly and focuses back on what Narcissa is saying, surprised he's actually interested in the witch's enthusiastic plans for baby shopping and how they plan to decorate the baby's room. It might seem a tad hopeful when they both find lilac an agreeable color, but it's not like a wave of a wand can't change the wall colors.
