The Basket Case

by Stray

16 February 2006

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters and make no money off 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 and Vaughn

8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8 ·m 8

Chapter Twenty-one

On second thought, Draco should have notified Potter before crashing into his living room through his fireplace in a most undignified manner. Of course it was the fault of those stupid wards, which had taken their time in checking him from every imaginable angle, so that Draco arrived on his hands and knees rather than in a standing position. He should have known not to travel into an unknown fireplace, but Apparition was regrettably out of question. He hadn't known where Potter lived; he only had the Floo address which Snape had given him. Because Snape's residence wasn't connected to the Floo network, he had to submit himself to the degradation of having to make use of a nearby pub.

After the fireplace spat him out, Draco found himself with his nose buried in a tacky bearskin rug, and was instantly attacked by something small, round, very fast, squishy and squealing like a pig.

"HARRY! COME HERE, HARRY! A LITTLE GRAY MAN'S COME TO AB-DUCT YOU, HARRY! HARRY! HARRY! AIEEEEEEEE!"

Draco quickly curled into a ball, hands pressed onto his ears to be able to withstand the vocal assault. A few seconds later, he realised that the punches and kicks he was receiving didn't really hurt his body as much as his pride. Thus he opened his eyes, grabbed the strange creature, and held it at arm's length.

His first thought after glimpsing it was that Loony might have been right and Crumpled-Horned Snorkaks really existed. At a second glance, it became apparent that it was undoubtedly a human child of five: a little girl with two crooked pigtails on the top of her head. She had a strong resemblance to Crabbe when, in their sixth year, he had drunk the Polyjuice potion Draco had brewed after having run out of the stolen stock. He hadn't had enough time and thought he would be able to shorten the brewing process. The result of it had been an eleven year old girl with Crabbe's body mass.

He tried to calm his attacker by offering a biscuit he had brought with him as an emergency ration, only to get zapped by a fierce magical discharge. He felt a light tingling in his own erratic magic, and he expected it to respond in kind. He was surprised when instead the magic's almost instant response was to reach out and try to envelop the child in a soothing aura. It was so strong that it was even visible, but lasted only for the fragment of a second and then flickered out of existence. It really only scared the kid more, rather than achieving what its purpose had been. Fortunately in that moment, Potter appeared in one of the doorframes and the little girl started off to Potter, nearly tripping him over as she clutched tightly to his feet.

Potter's gaze wandered from the living Bludger to Draco's crouching form.

"Malfoy? I didn't think you would come." Well, that was obvious, Draco thought. "What are you doing with my niece?" he asked and then turned his head downwards, towards the source of insistent yanking on his trousers. "What is it, Pinky?"

"Harry! He is an alien! I saw him coming from up there! He shot me with his plasma gun! But my space armour reflected it!"

Potter's glance became sharp abruptly and wandered to Draco. He knew Potter was checking him for his wand, and now he was glad that he had it safely tucked away in his sleeve. He lifted both hands palms upwards to show Potter that he didn't carry a weapon.

"I'm sorry about that," Draco found himself unexpectedly apologizing before Potter scolded the girl more. "It was an accident. My magic is a bit unpredictable right now. But I meant no harm. It was just to calm her down." He refused to acknowledge the fact that the mention of his first plushie's name made him sentimental. He surely wasn't starting to like a Muggle kid because she was called the same!

Potter's rigid posture sagged with relief and his reproaching gaze turned towards the little girl.

"He doesn't have a plasma gun, Pinky," Potter said in an exasperated tone. From the stern look, Draco guessed it wasn't her first time raising a false alarm. "And he is no alien. He is a wizard, like I am. He came through the fireplace, didn't he?"

Draco was relieved that Potter accepted his explanation right away, and didn't inquire further. Most likely because the vague gesture Draco had made towards his belly made Potter insecure, which also reflected on his face.

Meanwhile, the girl's expression changed from sulking to excited at the mention of the word 'wizard'. Her previous fear of Draco vanished at once, and he found himself being the target of the human Bludger once again.

"What's your name? Can you do tricks, like Uncle Harry? And can you shoot laser beams from your wand? Did you kill aliens with it?" And the questions seemed to have no end. Draco suddenly didn't know what to do with the bundle of excitement bouncing up and down like a large beach ball, bombarding him with inquiries. However, before he could open his mouth to fend off his attacker, Potter saved him by calling her back. She speedily obeyed and attached herself to Potter's legs again.

"Pinky, go to your room. I have grown up things to speak about with this uncle," Potter told her sternly. Of course she didn't want to. She wanted to stay and watch 'this uncle' show her tricks. Draco snorted at the stupid name, while watching the little drama unfolding between Potter and the girl. Both of them proved stubborn as hell and neither seemed to be about to budge soon.

The girl yanked on Potter's trousers desperately with her eyes tearing up. She was just a hairbreadth away from breaking out in a mighty bawl. Draco silently congratulated for her performance, even though her Muggle talk about aliens and lasers confused him, thus preventing him from really paying attention to her words. His confusion notwithstanding, it was obvious that it was all just an act. Draco still remembered those tricks as clearly as if it had been only yesterday that he himself had been that age.

Apparently, Potter wasn't falling for her fake tears either. He just sighed, tugged his trousers she was pulling on to emphasise her viewpoint back up, and then told the little girl once again to go and play in her room. She didn't want to. Potter gave her a stern look – without any visible effect. She tried a few more things until Potter threatened her with no "wizard-tales" before bed, and Draco could see that this time she would really start crying if Potter kept it up.

"Let her."

Draco didn't know what made him say those words. Perhaps his mind was muddled because his hormones were going crazy and his magic was topping it off. Or because he saw his younger self in the girl. He most certainly wasn't beginning to like or pity her just because of her name!

His interruption rendered both the girl and Potter speechless for a second. Then Draco was rewarded with a loud squeak and another Bludger attack that Potter averted in the last second, scooping up the girl into his arms.

"Sorry about that," Potter said. Draco swiftly scrambled to his feet, after he had realised that all the while he had been kneeling, and that the position had brought his eyes level with Potter's crotch. He didn't want Potter to misinterpret Draco's bewildered gaze for checking out his package. And he wasn't!

While he was standing up, Draco's sight travelled upwards and then he was staring again. He didn't want to believe his eyes when he spotted the most hideous pink tee shirt he had ever seen. It was clearly of Muggle origin, with a black and white line art of a skull and two crossed-together marrow bones decorating the front – but thankfully, there was no sign of a snake. Potter caught on as to what he was looking at.

"It's not mine. It's Pinky's," he said, eyes glinting with slight embarrassment.

"Pinky's?" Draco fixed Potter with a suspicious glare.

Potter shrugged and was proceeding as if he misunderstood Draco's question. "Her mother's idea of a pet name. She was named after my aunt, but Petunia is too serious a name for a child, I guess. Some parents just don't think before naming their children. For your child's sake, I hope you won't make the same mistake…"

Potter was babbling, Draco noticed as much. He was most likely just as uncomfortable with the situation as Draco, even if he hadn't appeared to be at first glance. Draco didn't answer; he couldn't think of anything to say to that, so Potter seemed determined to fill the silence.

"She was sleeping over last night. Her parents were supposed to come for her this morning, but something came up and my cousin asked me if I could watch over her for a bit longer. As if I had any other choice…" Potter's nervous babbling turned into an irritated grumbling and then stopped altogether. "That's why I couldn't come to Snape's."

"Isn't your cousin a Muggle?" Draco blurted out the question. Where did that come from?

"He and his wife both." Potter looked back at him, brows raised. "But why are we speaking about my family? You didn't come just for that, did you?"

Draco nodded rigidly. It was a little strange to talk about these things while a five-year-old was looking at him with avid curiosity, but apparently Pinky didn't want to risk Potter's benevolence, because she was as quiet as the dead – the polite sort of dead, that is; she caused no trouble at all.

"I came for two reasons. Firstly, to talk about that article in the Prophet, and secondly, to ask questions Snape wasn't willing to answer."

"Well then, out with them," Potter said, and then he abruptly stood up. "Do you want coffee?" He was already halfway out of the room before the question even registered in Draco's mind. He had no other choice than to follow him with Pinky in tow.

Once he caught up with him, Draco accepted the offer, and then observed Potter stuffing some monstrous Muggle box with pre-ground coffee beans and water while he tried to collect his thoughts. He wanted to threaten Potter to step back from that interview, or to keep his mouth shut about Draco's business, so it came to him as a surprise when the first sentence leaving his lips had nothing to do with either of those things.

"Is it safe for you to take care of a small child while you're on drugs? Don't her parents mind it? Or they don't know about it at all?" Draco congratulated himself for a good opening, and tried to bury his unbecoming concern for Pinky deep into the hidden dark recesses of his mind. His style was to always attack first, mainly when it came to his interactions with Potter. Seeing the confusion appear on the other man's face, he felt instantly better.

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Potter asked. Draco could tell that he was trying to restrain his anger.

"You know what I mean," Draco stated with an air of superiority.

"Are you talking about the potion Snape brews for me?" Potter asked after a few seconds of silence, which he used to make it seem as if he was seriously trying to guess what Draco had been talking about. As if! He needed to become a much better actor before he could compete with Draco in sneakiness.

"That too, and just why you take that potion, and an explanation of why you were sacked!" Draco nodded. He looked cool on the outside, but on the inside he was a quivering mass of hormones. He sincerely hoped that whatever answer Potter gave, it wouldn't be something that would affect his child.

"I don't know how this would be your business in any way." Potter gave him a dark look and huffed. "But I'm going to answer anyway. The answer is just one word: Voldemort."

Draco lifted a brow. "Of course, Potter, every single detail in your life comes back to the Dark Lord. He is the one to blame for everything."

"You're so full of shite, Malfoy." Potter shook his head. Meanwhile, the coffee was ready, and he busied himself with pouring the dark liquid into two cups. There was a third, larger one next to them in which Potter poured milk with three spoonfuls of cocoa powder, and stirred it together without warming the milk first. Draco's disgust notwithstanding, apparently, Pinky liked her drink just that way.

"The potion is for subduing the excess magic I have obtained – or rather regained – when Voldemort died. Sugar? Cream?"

Draco was momentarily thrown by the sudden change of topic. "Three and yes," he answered finally, and was prepared to urge Potter to continue his tale, but it seemed that his input wasn't needed. Potter gave him his cup and directed them towards the living room couch. When they were all seated – with Pinky occupying Potter's lap - and sipping their respective beverages, he picked up where he left off.

"I don't understand everything about it myself. Hermione and the doc tried to explain it, but then they got always tangled up in Latin phrases and magical theory I was supposed to have known about, since it was taught in Hogwarts… whatever." Potter gesticulated, frustrated, and Draco realised that he had been staring at him without blinking. He quickly averted his eyes to gaze into his empty cup. The coffee-grounds that remained on the bottom took the shape of a diaper. Draco put down the cup quickly, as if he had burned himself.

"In a nutshell, Voldemort was siphoning away some of my magic through our link, and when he died he gave it back to me and then some of his own. My body was already past puberty and it can't adapt to it anymore. The result is that I'm leaking magic and need the potion to be able to contain it."

"Leaking magic?" Draco deadpanned. "You have magical incontinence?" Draco asked, remembering the expression from when he was five and his grandmother had been still alive.

Potter nodded and gave him a sheepish smile. Draco sniffled with disgust.

"You mean the kind that old ladies have?"

Potter blushed beet red and refused to answer. Pinky looked from him to Draco and back with large eyes, her mouth dropping open, but she refrained from commenting.

Draco didn't know whether he should rejoice that his child wasn't going to be born with an illness or some nasty addiction - in fact, it was most likely going to be the strongest wizard or witch of its time – or be disappointed, because Potter's 'big secret' wasn't something he would be able to use against Granger in order to finally sack her. This wasn't a crime, just something terribly embarrassing, though Potter didn't even seem to be aware of that. If Draco made the Prophet write it, the only achievement he could get out of such a "scandal" was the hilarity of one half of the wizarding community and the compassion of the other.

"So that's why you're not an Auror anymore," Draco said to divert Potter's attention from the reaction he was trying to conceal.

"I wasn't fit for duty. There was no guarantee that I could take the potion when I had to, like during an assignment or a stakeout. Without it, I'm prone to magical accidents and… let's just say my perception goes crazy. Sometimes it's useful, but most of the time it's just annoying and confusing as hell. I was relieved of duty because I'm a danger to people and myself," Potter confessed, his voice getting small. It almost caused Draco to pity him, too.

"And that's why you got the position in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and are hunting for Dark Artifacts while working undercover in Borgin and Burkes, and in your free time saving people in need…" Draco didn't want to think, let alone speak about what else Potter was getting up to in his free time.

"I was bored." Potter shrugged. "But if I weren't, you wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"Thank you very much for reminding me of that." Draco felt his expression harden.

"So, are you off the hook now?" Potter gestured with his hand awkwardly. Draco lifted his brow.

"For your information, Potter, I haven't done anything wrong. It's just because of those bureaucrats that the case isn't closed yet." Draco lifted his chin.

"I take it that the interrogation went well," Potter said, trying to pry information out of him. His nosiness started to irritate Draco.

"Those were the stupidest questions I have ever been asked. As if a first year Hufflepuff had cooked them up for a DADA project," Draco repeated his epiphany, because he thought it was quite witty and to the point. "I wonder which idiot came up with them".

"That would be me," Potter said, rounding his lips.

"Oh." Draco winced at the revelation. That was just one more thing he had Potter to thank for.

He didn't like to be reminded of the fact that Potter was… if not quite his ally, at least not an enemy. Apparently knowing about his child had altered his normal attitude towards Draco. As if! Draco didn't like to contemplate about what it would cost him to disabuse Potter from any kind of delusions of fatherhood he was secretly nursing. But he would have time to think about that when Potter actually brought up the topic. Until that time he would just act as if he was oblivious.

"So, you wanted to talk about the article in the Prophet?" Potter prompted when the silence stretched for too long. Draco nodded and mentally prepared what he wanted to say.

"I forbid you to talk about me to the reporters. If you so much as say my name out loud, I am going to sue you. I warn you, I have good lawyers. Better not let it come to that. You wouldn't be able to pay the fee if you lived for a hundred and fifty years," Draco articulated the words so Potter would understand them perfectly.

The other man, though, only smiled at him.

"Whatever gave you the idea that I would willingly talk to any newspaper, let alone the Prophet?" he asked lightly.

"The article said…" But then Draco stopped to think about what he just said, while Potter continued to look at him, as if he was waiting for Draco to get the clue. Damn him, he was!

"Swear it!" Draco demanded. He didn't care if Potter thought him to be an idiot or overbearing. His future was at stake; he couldn't risk neglecting to get reassurance for the sake of politeness. And this was Potter, anyhow. Since when did he feel the urge to be polite with Scar-head?

But Potter just laughed. "As you wish. I swear I won't talk about you are being a git, who is pregnant to boot, to anyone. Or did you want a magical contract?"

Draco considered it for a second, but for a valid contract he would need witnesses, so that was out of question. In the end, he had no choice but to believe in Potter's word and the fact that he had been sorted into Gryffindor. He was just about to tell him that he didn't want it when the doorbell rang. Potter jumped up and excused himself without waiting for Draco's answer. Draco couldn't miss the obvious fact that Potter acted jittery for some reason, even after they were past the potentially stressing topics.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by small, puffy hands grabbing his knee and a considerable weight trying to settle itself into his lap. Draco jumped a little when the questions started anew. Potter popped his head into the room to say that he was going down because the lift wasn't working, and then laughed at the most likely peculiar look on Draco's face.

"Just practice, Malfoy," he said. "You're going to need the skills in a few months, anyhow." And then he was gone.

"What's your name?" Pinky tried to gain his attention again by almost numbing his left thigh when she leaned on it.

"Draco," Draco answered. He was wondering about his sanity. Why was he allowing a four-year-old Muggle girl to call him by his given name?

"Is it true that you'll have a baby?" she asked. Draco winced. He hadn't expected her to know yet what the word 'pregnant' meant.

"Um… yes," Draco told her, hoping that she would be happy with his answer and stop pestering him for more. It was just as likely as the Dark Lord's soul getting into the Muggle heaven.

"Is it going to come out of your belly?"

Draco nodded. "But that is a secret, do you understand?" She nodded vigorously. Draco should have known. Every little child was excited when told a secret. "You have to keep it. Can you do that?" She resumed nodding so hard Draco was wondering how her head was still on top of her torso (because he couldn't see any proof of the existence of a neck) and not rolling around on the carpet.

Fortunately that was the moment Potter had chosen to reappear, and thus, saved Draco from the rest of the interrogation.

"Pinky, your parents are here!" he shouted. His cheeks were flushed red when he poked his head into the room again. He must have run up and down the stairs. "Hurry up and get dressed! Where is your overnight bag?"

Draco leaned back and observed the homey display of Potter running about the flat, alternately chasing after Pinky and her elusive clothing pieces. For the first time, it didn't give him goose bumps when he thought about having children. He had always thought that Malfoys weren't the type to enjoy family life. They were just breeding out of obligation: to pop out the next generation that would inherit the fortune. Lucius' example had taught Draco to pity people who gave up their freedom for their children. Now though, his hormones made him feel a strange kind of nostalgia when he thought about his own, soon-to-be family. He wondered if he would mourn the loss of this feeling, or be glad for having returned to his normal state of mind once the pregnancy was over, and the weird magic making it possible had settled down.

"I'm taking Pinky down. Her parents refused to come up here without the lift," Potter interrupted his musing before he took the little girl's hand and they both disappeared through the door.

Draco stood up, stretching a bit, and stepped to the window. Looking outside, he calculated that Potter was living on the fourth floor. On the street, he spotted a man and a woman – both bearing Pinky's figure, so it was a safe guess that they were her parents. Both looked very impatient. They were conversing so loudly that Draco could hear their every word. Not that he was interested, as they were talking about rather mundane things, mainly the woman accusing the man of intentionally delaying them from getting there on time.

Finally, after a few minutes, Potter and Pinky arrived, and the woman abruptly grabbed the girl's hand and started to tug her forcefully away, while Potter was conversing shortly with the man. Then he was gone again, and Draco continued to watch the family while he was waiting for Potter to get back there.

"Mum, I know a secret! Should I tell you what?" Pinky squealed, trying to out-shout her parents. "The uncle's gonna be a mummy!"

"What barbaric burial customs those wizards have!" the woman snorted with disgust, and ran a hand through her perfectly styled hair. "Or do you think your freak of a cousin will be still alive after that?" She gave a theatrical shudder. And then she started to scream and jump up and down.

"Dudley! There's something in my hair! Get it out quickly! Help me! Don't just stand around with your mouth open! Get it out NOW!"

"Mum, you're funny!" Pinky giggled, and with a puff of smoke, she changed her mother's hair into an unbecoming green colour.

"Oh! That's your fault, Dudley! She has it from you for sure!" the woman continued to screech in the most undignified manner.

"Shut up! I'm not a freak! She must have it from you…" Finally the sentence was cut into half by the slamming of a car door.

"And Muggles say wizards are barbaric!" Draco scoffed. He let the drapes fall back into their place and stepped away from the window.

When Potter came back, Draco was playing with a ring he had found in one of the glass cases. It was strangely familiar, but he couldn't place the impression. He didn't miss the pointed look Potter gave the ring in his hand, though. As if he expected Draco to steal it. Draco put it back down, pouting that Potter would assume something like that about him.

"Did you want to speak about something else?" Potter asked. His unwavering gaze was disconcerting Draco somewhat. All of a sudden, it seemed strange not to have Pinky there, and Draco started feeling light-headed and the return of his habitual scorn for Potter all at once.

"No. In fact, I am going now," he answered and edged into the direction of the fireplace.

"Er… don't you want to stay for a while longer?" he heard Potter's almost hesitant voice asking from behind his back. Draco turned towards him with genuine surprise.

"Why would I?" he asked, still confused by his own abnormal behaviour from earlier with the little girl, and therefore starting to become snappish. Potter just shrugged it off.

"Right," he said, pointing his wand at the fire to revive it a bit. "Never mind."

"Farewell, Potter." Draco nodded politely before he stepped between the flames. He heard his words echo shortly afterwards, and then he was dragged through unfamiliar fireplaces towards his destination.

TBC