Title: All My Own
Author: NemKess
Warnings: See previous chapters

Snape was brooding.

They were deep into the school year. November had bled into December and Christmas was approaching.

Five months had passed and still, still, he hadn't solved Potter's little dilemma. Of course the Gryffindor in question didn't seem to be too discouraged by this small fact and always made himself available to help and play guinea pig to the various experiments. As long as they were working towards a cure, he seemed content.

Which was, of course, why Snape was brooding. Bloody Gryffindors. They were too optimistic for anyone's good.

Through a number of grueling and oft times painful experiments, they'd eliminated all existing potions and most of the variations that the potion's master had tried. Oh, they'd solved similar problems for a number of other witches and wizards out there. Their alterations had given other sterile and near-sterile couples a number of new, safer options.

But not one potion had worked on Potter.

"Hey, Professor Snape? Since I helped, will my name be added with yours on the patents?"

The professor gave his 'assistant' a sour look. "Of course, boy."

"Cool," Potter responded with a grin as he went back to working on his real homework. Transfigurations, if Snape wasn't badly mistaken. It was a wonder the brat was passing anything at all the way he split all of his time between the potions lab and the Quidditch pitch. It said something for his intelligence that Snape wasn't about to acknowledge out loud.

"Potter, I'm beginning to feel that the sterility induced by the curse is going to be as permanent as the scar on your forehead."

There was a mulish look on the boy's face that told Snape that he wasn't willing to accept that. "But-"

"Do not speak until I am finished, please." Potter still looked cross, but at least he remained silent. Perhaps it was merely a side-effect of having spent so much time during the current school year with the most reserved professor Hogwart's offered, but Potter had finally learned a measure of self-control over his emotions and his mouth. It pleased Snape to no end and he'd have been delighted to take credit for the restraint if anyone had bothered asking about it. "Should that be the case, then our only recourse will become to focus on alternate means of procreation. Are you willing to actually bear the child you want so badly?"

It was an important question to answer now before they wasted valuable time looking in those directions. Very few wizards were ever truly willing to put themselves through it.

Thus far he'd been trying to alter the existing potions to cure Potter with disappointing results. The magic residue that the Arvada cadavera curse had left in the boy's body had rejected every attempt to get his system to produce sperm.

Perhaps it would be easier to simply expound upon them, do a little more research in possibilities in ovary transfiguration. But it could be several more months worth of work and he wasn't going to commit himself to it if Potter was going to back out now at the very thought of male pregnancy.

Not, of course, that Snape would blame him if he did. Who in their right minds would really go through all of that just to produce a snot nosed little brat to carry on his name?

The seventh year was idly running his finger over his school book and didn't look up as he answered the question. "There isn't a lot that I wouldn't be willing to do."

"You understand that pregnancy for a male is a far more difficult and painful process than for a female? Few wizards dare try it and a good half of them die. Is it worth it to you, even knowing that you might die and leave a child alone in the world.... As you were?"

"Doesn't it take two, even in male pregnancy?" Snape suspected the wide-eyed innocent look was just to distract him from the fact that Potter was ignoring the rest of the issue.

"It does. And that's another matter, isn't it? Assuming that you're the 'mother' in this scenario, you'd need a 'father' as well. Who would it be? It will be no walk in the park for your chosen partner, any more than it will be for you. More than just sperm, he'll more than likely be called upon to donate magic as well to keep things stable and to prevent the curse's residue from simply washing the whole mess out of your body as it did with your own sperm. Besides which, they'll have to deal with you at your absolute worst and weakest. Protect you when you can't protect yourself. Who do you know who'd be willing to undergo this with you? Weasley? Please, he's far too squeamish. Longbottom? With his bad luck and bumbling ways, we might as well kill you now and save you both the trouble. Perhaps you should think more on it before we continue."

Potter sighed and grew serious. "I have thought about it, Professor. I've thought of little else since this summer. I'm willing to do what I have to for a family. Maybe it'll take a while to find someone who'll be willing to do this with me, but that just gives us plenty of time to work out the rest of it."

Snape gave the boy a hard stare, but was met with an equally unflinching gaze. He shook his head and turned back to his cauldron. Part of him couldn't help but admire the boy's steadfast resolve even as he questioned his sanity. "Salazar save us from stubborn Gryffindors who've made up their minds."

The Gryffindor in question just chuckled faintly and went back to scribbling out his transfiguration work.

Having potions first thing in the morning had always been a bright spot of being in his years at Hogwarts for Draco. He loved potions, much to his parent's bemusement and disgruntlement. His father had always hoped he'd go into politics or some other suitable aristocratic career. His mother would have been perfectly happy if he'd chosen a life of leisure wallowing in the Malfoy fortune.

Instead, he'd decided on the very first day of first year that he was going to be a potion's master. And not just any potion's master. He'd be the greatest that ever lived.

Let it never be said that a Malfoy didn't have high goals.

This year had been a little different of course. In light of Snape's defection and the mixed up emotions he had about it all, Draco had been especially cranky on those mornings when he had to get up and face the man in a classroom for two hours straight. It made it hard to ignore the swirling emotional mire. This was a man he both respected and scorned, liked and hated. He felt horribly betrayed to know that he hadn't really known this man at all and yet, at the same time, he still felt the fierce loyalty he'd always felt.

It was horribly confusing and he's spent the early part of the year trying to avoid Snape whenever possible. The only time he couldn't was during potions and most of the other students had learned to give him a wide berth those two morning a week.

Since his birthday, however, that had changed. Potions became the one opportunity of the day to study both Potter and Snape and their less than hostile interactions with one another.

Some days, he was absolutely sure that his horrified suspicions were correct and the pair were shagging like mad behind closed doors. Others, he wasn't sure of anything. In order to figure out the puzzle placed in front of him, he also started watching each of them separately.

One odd side-effect of his close observation of the pair was that he was starting to notice things about Potter he never had before. He'd noticed, for instance, that while the prat was undeniably close to the Weasel and the Mudblood, he always held himself apart from them. Oh, Draco doubted they- or any of the Gryffindors for that matter- really realized, but he found it to be glaringly obvious to anyone who bothered to watch the trio for more than five minutes. He'd also noted that the only time Potter seemed to be completely at peace was on his broom. Even in the middle of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match with bludgers flying every which way and Draco's team doing their level best to send the dark haired seeker to the infirmary in pieces, Potter's face had fairly glowed with contentment and peace. It was... disconcerting.

Draco played Quidditch because it was the only truly acceptable wizarding sport and because he really, really wanted to beat Potter. And while Potter had been undeniably happy when he'd been carried off the pitch on his team's shoulders after their victory, his face had lost that glow the second his feet hit the ground. Harry Potter liked winning, but he really only played Quidditch to fly. Flying was the part he truly loved.

There was a scroll hidden away in his satchel filled with nothing but notes and observations of Potter, Snape, and Potter-and-Snape. Even if he didn't recognize it himself, he'd become more than a little obsessed. It was just a hobby as far as he was concerned, and a damned good distraction from the woes of his own love life.

When Snape swept into the classroom on that particular morning, Draco's hands fairly itched to fetch out his scroll. Potter hadn't shown up for class and the entire Gryffindor side of the room had a panicky worried sort of look that really caught his attention. Sitting in the front corner of the class closest to the teacher's desk, Draco was also sure that he'd seen a similar worried look on Snape's face before it was composed into it's usual cool sneer and turned onto the other students.

Interesting.

Before anyone could say anything, Granger's hand was up in the air. The chit looked near tears.

"What is it, Granger?" Snape snapped.

She took a look around the class and then in a bold move that showed the backbone and stupidity that had obviously gotten her sorted into the house of the Lion, she stood and hurried up to the professor's desk. "Sir, Harry's missing!" she hissed in an undertone that Draco had to strain to hear. "He didn't come back to the dorms last night and no one knows where he is and Dumbledore-"

"Enough! Twenty points from Gryffindor for being a nuisance." Snape wasn't nearly so quiet as he silenced her with a glare. He did lower his voice as he continued. "I am very well aware of where Mr. Potter is, Ms. Granger. He is in the infirmary and I'm sure you will be allowed to visit the brat at lunch. But until then, I suggest that you sit down and be silent."

Poor Mudblood didn't seem to know whether she should be glad for the information, offended at the loss of points, or upset to know just where Potter was, Draco thought with a smirk.

She wavered for a moment before hurrying back to her seat to share the news with the rest of her dorm mates.

Draco nibbled the end of his feathered quill for a moment as he considered this new bit of information. Potter had met with Snape the night before, he knew. He'd tried to spy on them, but the door to the laboratory had been warded and he'd been unable to see or hear anything that had gone on. In the end, he'd given up and gone back to bed. Too soon, apparently.

Potter was in the infirmary, and Snape knew why. Even more so, he had to be deeply worried to actually show even a glimmer of it in class where anyone paying attention could see it.

Very Interesting.

He made a mental note to take the long route to the library after class- most of the Slytherins had a study period after Potions- and see if he couldn't find out more at the infirmary. Pomfrey was worse than a big guard dog, but even she got distracted sometimes.

For the moment, he turned his attention back to his class work. Brilliant potion masters didn't get that way by neglecting their studies after all.

TBC

Author's Notes

First of all, I've actually had most of this since October, but I've only just gotten around to finishing it up and tweaking it. It's been one of those more difficult fics, because my HP muse is a fickle creature who comes and goes as the spirit moves him. This is also somewhat slow becuase I'm trying to concentrate on 'Betrayed' a little more. I'd like to actually finish that one some day and it has a lot more fic to go. 'All My Own' on the other hand, should not end up being more than 10-15,000 words. I know I left this off at a spot that leaves a ton of questions, not the least of which is why Draco isn't focusing more on his own problems. Quite simply, he's procrastinating with a "If I don't acknowledge I have a problem, it'll go away" sort of mentality. His fellow Slytherins won't let him get away with it for long. So, no worries. I'd also like to thank all the offers for beta reading. While I may end up taking some of you up on it eventually, at the moment my good friend Oppy is beta'ing this for me. Of course, I've added to it since she sent it back to me, so there are probably still quite a few mistakes. .;;; oops?

I had a bunch of individual reviewer notes, but they got eaten in my compy, unfortunately. is sad Perhaps next time?

Thanks for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy!

NemKess