Draco knew, from the moment he had felt his magic flare and begun to experience abdominal pains, that he was well and truly fucked.
Which was how he got into his predicament in the first place.
"Merlin's ballsack…" Draco groaned, slumped over the toilet after emptying his stomach for the third time that week.
There was a hesitant knock on the bathroom door, "Draco, darling, are you alright?" Narcissa Malfoy's voice was slightly muffled by the heavy mahogany door, but the concern in her voice was still apparent.
For a moment, Draco considered lying to his mother. No son wanted to go crawling to his mother with his problems. But ultimately, he knew lying would only make things worse. Knowing his mother, she'd probably slip truth potion into his drink.
"No…" He admitted, weakly.
The door opened slowly, revealing his mother, still in her dressing gown and her hair braided down her back, "What's wrong, Draco?"
Draco sighed, grateful he had nothing left in his stomach, "Well, good news: you're going to be a grandmother." He held up a small potion vial, the blue liquid sloshing about inside.
If it was possible for a Malfoy (even one by marriage) to pale, no doubt Draco's mother had practically blanched. "Draco, you're pregnant?" She shook her head slightly, clearing her thoughts, "You're sure?"
"This is the third one," Draco shook the vial slowly, "All the same result. I guess the Malfoy family will have a little bastard."
"Absolutely not."
Draco looked up at his mother, "Excuse me?"
"No son of mine will be cast aside to raise a child alone." Narcissa Malfoy shook his head, "Who's the father? I need to know which…bastard I need to hex into making you an honest man."
"Mother." Draco shook his head, standing slowly, "It's not like I'm underage and I was taken advantage of. I knew what I was getting into, I can take care of myself."
"I know you can, Draco." The Malfoy matriarch nodded slowly, "But I won't give the Wizarding Wold any chance to destroy your character, or to target your child."
It was true, the Malfoy family had been skating on incredibly thin ice since the war. There were many who thought that they didn't deserve to be free (or live), and they were simply waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into them.
Draco hadn't thought about what might happen if word got out that Draco was having a bastard. It was rare enough for a wizard's magical core to be strong enough to impregnate another wizard, it wouldn't take much for The Daily Prophet to churn out a medley of rumors.
"Who's the father?"
"You're not going to like it."
"I don't like it already, but I don't care if it's the spawn of the Dark Lord, I'm still going to protect you and the baby."
That was imagery Draco could have gone without, "Don't worry, no Dark Lord spawn. Quite the opposite."
"You mean-"
"Yeah."
"Oh dear…that does complicate things…"
"Yep."
"…What happened?"
"Mother, I love you, but there is no way in hell I'm telling about my steamy one night stand with bloody Harry Potter."
There were few things that Harry truly hated about his job. Sure, he hated the fact he had to face evil on a daily basis, and there were always people who wanted to kill him, and there were instances when Harry had to face death, both in victims and sometimes in his coworkers.
But what he really hated was the bloody politics of it all. Honestly, everything had it's own paperwork. So there Harry was, sitting at his desk, hours after he was supposed to go home, working on damn paperwork.
"I'm going to wring Ron's neck…" He muttered to himself, mentally cursing his partner for leaving him with the paperwork while he was on a date with Hermione.
Not like he could blame his friend, it wasn't Ron's fault that Harry didn't have his own plans. He usually didn't. If he was feeling spontaneous, he would go to a pub for a drink, or even some company for the evening. But that was rare, and more often than not, Harry was content to not have plans.
Of course, not having plans meant that he wasn't expecting anyone at his office door.
So hearing his office door open, and looking up to see one Draco Malfoy standing into his office, was certainly not something Harry would have ever expected. Then again, Harry hadn't exactly expected their previous encounter two months ago. Not that he minded, it was an enjoyable encounter.
"Um, did we have a meeting I didn't know about?"
Draco rolled his eyes, "Not even you are that forgetful, Potter." He shook his head, striding into the office with typical Malfoy confidence, "But we do need to talk."
Harry raised an eyebrow, "If we were dating, I might be worried by those words. But since we're not…should I still be worried?"
"Don't be a drama queen, it doesn't suit you." Draco shook his head, taking a seat on the other side of Harry's desk, "But this does concern…well, that night."
"Good night, that was."
"Well yes, it was quite enjoyable—"
"Where did you learn to do that thing with your tongue?"
"Potter, could you please stop thinking with your prick for five minutes." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to blush from thoughts of their night together, "Your prick is what's got us into a bit of trouble."
Harry blinked, "What, did I give you something? I swear, I came back clean on my last physical—"
"Potter, you didn't give me crabs, you knocked me up the duff!"
There was a moment in which the words that had come from Draco's mouth hadn't quite registered with Harry's brain. He stared at Draco numbly, piecing together what he had heard. Then, finally, he spoke.
"Wizards can get pregnant?"
An exasperated look crossed Draco's face, "Merlin help me, you're hopeless. Yes Potter, I'm carrying your spawn, and Mother has invoked her familial rights as part of the Black Family, which you are head of, that you take responsibility."
"…And what does that mean?"
"It means we're getting married, darling."