I want to thank ALL of you wonderful people for reading and reviewing my fic. It is a relief to know I am creating something that you enjoy. By the way, I was slightly amused to see that some of you have recognized a similar fic and mentioned that it resembled mine. *chuckles* let's hope, that person has good intentions and a great imaginative brain like mine. J
Chapter 11
Hermione descended the common room stairs stealthily, trying her best not to startle the young Gryffindor asleep on the couch, his new bed it seemed. His real bed hadn't been slept in for two days. Setting her suitcase down carefully, she tip-toed towards Harry and smiled at the natural aura he emitted. She smoothed down his disheveled hair and tucked the red and gold blanket he slept under around his slim shoulders. From her skirt pocket, she pulled a small folded up note and placed it beside his glasses on the adjacent table. She slipped unnoticed from the common room to go home for the holidays.
Several hours later, the fire had died down leaving Harry shivering. He opened his eyes seeing only blurriness and rubbed them lightly with his index finger, scraping sleepiness from the corners. He almost blindly reached out behind him, over his head and felt along the slick surface of the table for his glasses. He succeeded and felt the light brush of paper on his skin. As he placed his glasses on his face, he turned on his stomach and lifted the neatly folded paper. Instantly, he knew no one other than Hermione would have left him a note in such a feminine shape. Smiling, he unfolded it.
Harry,
I hope you are not angry with me. I hope you are not angry at Draco. I hope, more than anything, that you are not angry at yourself for Draco's condition, but I believe you listened intently to Dumbledore and are contemplating how to approach Draco. Don't worry. He's keeping his word and will be slipping by the common room on Christmas Day. Happy Christmas, Harry.
Love,
Hermione
Harry pondered for moments about the words in Hermione's note, as he twirled it between his nimble fingers. Obviously, she knew every detail of the affair and had been conversing with Dumbledore. It wasn't a surprise, but the idea of her civilly conversing with Draco was a surprise, and he wondered if there was a hidden truce or even friendship within these words. He twirled the note once more before attempting to fold it back to the way it had been, but failed and simply stuffed it into his jade and navy plaid pajama pants.
As he stepped into the steamy shower, he pondered if Ron had any acknowledgment of the situation. Perhaps, Hermione had filled her boyfriend in for him, since Harry had not allowed his brain to register the obvious symptoms of Draco's "illness" which wasn't an illness at all, but a joyous occasion. The young Gryffindor lathered his head with his favorite vanilla scented shampoo as he closed his eyes against the soap creeping down over his smiling face. The Boy-Who-Lived would have the opportunity his father had never had; to raise and watch his child mature; to teach him or her how to read and play Quidditch; to tell which jellybeans to pick from a box of Bertie Bott's Every flavor beans; to simply be a father. He placed his head under the jet of warm water and pondered how Draco was truly handling the pregnancy. The Slytherin had professed to Snape that he was handling it well, but was he really. Dumbledore had told him that Draco's body may not be able to fully handle the baby, but really, was any man's body totally able to support a growing child? As he shut off the water, Harry realized this was the chance of a lifetime. He would become that father and lover every man desired to be.
Christmas day arrived finally and Harry stood in front of trunk, desperately searching for the perfect attire to wear for when Draco visited him today. He held up his new olive button-up, long-sleeve, collar shirt Hermione had given him for Christmas. After much consideration, Harry chose that shirt and a pair of coal black slacks he recently purchased for himself at a little clothing shop in Hogsmeade. After running a slightly trembling hand through his naturally ruffled hair, he stepped in front of his mirror. He looked himself up and down, noticing how the shirt hugged his masculine curves and the pants enhanced the size of his bottom. Blushing, Harry closed his eyes and giggled to himself over primping and actually using an ordinary mirror for a simple event such as this. Suddenly, he heard someone entering the common room.
Draco entered cautiously, his silver eyes scanning the room. He took in the beauty of the poorly decorated tree littered with wrapping underneath. The site reminded him of a muggle television show where these kids decorate a pitiable little tree with love and make it beautiful. Why would Gryffindors do anything else? He held his robe closed, concealing his grey long-sleeve shirt with ruffles on the end of the sleeves that fell over his small hands stunningly. He flipped the stray blonde hairs from his face and swallowed hard as his eyes settled on Harry overlooking him from behind the railing.
The sheer sight of Draco was amazingly beautiful, and as he descended the stairs carefully, he swallowed hard and cleared his throat, snuffed his nose, anything to help the following conversation easier.
"I told you I would be here," the Slytherin spoke softly, barely meeting Harry's emerald gaze. He felt his pale cheeks redden as Harry stepped closer, hesitantly, but did nonetheless.
Swallowing again, Harry mentally kicked himself as he ever so slowly, wrapped his trembling arms around the other boy and pulled him close. Instinctively, he placed his dry cracked lips next to Draco's ear and whispered, "I never doubted you."
Draco shivered under Harry's touch and felt Harry's weight slightly on his stomach. He knew Harry could feel it and took a deep breath. He was rewarded with a firm hug that lasted minutes.
As they separated, Harry took one of Draco's soft hands in his own and marveled at how a male could have such gentle and beautiful hands. He looked over Draco's figure and couldn't contain his inquisitive nature. "Can I....?" Harry paused and looked apprehensively at Draco.
"Touch it?" Draco felt relieved and powerful again as he sensed the Gryffindor's nervousness.
"No, just look, first. One thing at a time," Harry spoke softly and smiled genuinely as Draco nodded and opened his robe. "Wow," he breathed.
Draco grinned and placed his free hand on the bottom of his shirt. "Want me to lift my shirt for you, too?"
Harry nodded vertically and was stunned as he took in the sight of Draco's naked stomach, the skin stretched due to the fetus growing inside him, still pale and giving off the image of purity and fragility, most definitely fragility. "Now, can I....touch it?"
"Of course." Draco pulled Harry's hand, still entwined with his own, and placed it on his stomach, taking in a deep breath at the initial shock from the coldness of his hand hitting his skin but soon, he felt a lovely warmth travel through him and he sighed pleasingly.
"Do you know what the sex of it is yet?" Harry repositioned his hand, his palm flat against the tight skin, just to the left of Draco's navel.
Draco continued to smile and glanced down at the sight of Harry's hand on his stomach. "No. I want it to be a surprise. Is that all right with you?"
"Of course." Harry grinned back at him softly, pulled his hand away from Draco, and met Draco's gaze with worrisome eyes. "Dumbledore enlightened me on your condition."
Narrowing his eyes, Draco looked back at Harry oddly. "I thought Hermione told you."
"She did. Dumbledore told me that your body may not be strong enough for the child."
Instantly, Draco realized what Harry was saying. He had noticed that becoming stressed easily put the child in harm, such as that night when he almost had the miscarriage. Draco bit his bottom lip lightly. "That's true."
Harry took the pleasure of pulling Draco's shirt down for him and leaned closer. With their lips lightly brushing against each other, Harry whispered, "I'm going to care for you." As he completed his statement, he pressed his small lips against the Slytherin's and immediately found entry for his tongue. Carefully, he brought their bodies closer and entangled a hand in Draco's golden locks as their lips crushed and moved together; the perfect display of love and affection.
As they slowly broke for air, Draco licked his lips, absorbing more of Harry's sweet taste. "Happy Christmas, Harry."
Harry smiled back sweetly. "Happy Christmas, Draco, and thank you for the gift."