"Nk-nk-dk." Draco shifted onto his back, raising his arm above his head. He clicked his tongue, wakefulness lapping at the edges of his dreams.

A small body leapt onto him and began jumping up and down. "Dook-dook-dook."

"Arrakis," Draco murmured, "stop dancing on mummy's bladder, sweet."

He heard a chuckle and cracked open an eye. Potter sat cross-legged beside him on the bed, fully dressed, being climbed all over by ferrets. Arrakis bounded over to Potter with a final kick to Draco's belly.

"'Mummy'?" Potter said.

"They already have a father." Draco watched a war of discomfiture and bashful pleasure play over Potter's face. Draco raised his other arm above his head and stretched. The duvet slipped downward, exposing his bare chest. He caught Potter staring and grinned. "Like what you see?"

"Shove off, Malfoy." Potter's cheeks tinged and he caught Eltanin before she jumped from the bed. "Why are you here? And don't give me that crap about having a nightmare."

"It's not crap."

Potter snorted. "Right. You always run to sleep with your mortal enemy when you have bad dreams."

Draco propped himself on his elbows. "No, I don't. Weasley snores."

Potter's eye twitched. "You know what I mean."

"Potter," Draco turned the tables on him, "if you didn't want us in here, you just should have said so."

"Of course I don't want you in here!" Draco winced at the stab of rejection. "It's not like you've ever came to me before when you had nightmares," Potter said.

Despite last night's bad dream being false, it didn't mean others in the past had been. Draco looked pointedly at him. "That's because I was already sleeping with you."

"Don't remind me," Potter muttered, dark clouds rolling across his expression.

Draco sat up completely, needing to fix things before he lost the progress he'd made. The kits dooked and sprang happily between Potter and him. "Really, Potter, I'm the same wizard now as I was then, and you certainly seemed to like me before, if all the kissing and adoration was any indication."

Potter's lips thinned. "Draco's dead. You're only Malfoy."

The solid verbal punch knocked the wind out of Draco. He dropped his chin, blinking rapidly to clear his blurring vision, and tried to gather his kits. They thought it was a game and darted over to Potter with cheerful dooks.

"Eltanin, Arraksis, Altais, Alsafi, and Thuban, get over here right now," Draco snapped in a tight voice. "Potter doesn't want to be with you."

His five children cowered at his tone, burrowing into Potter's lap. Potter put his hand over the kits. "I don't mind them."

Draco's hands curled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. His chest ached fiercely. "Right. Of course not them. How stupid could I be?"

Completely, totally, wholly, and utterly stupid.

"Bring them back whenever." Draco climbed out of bed and strode stiffly to the door. "I trust you."

In his own bedroom, Draco wrapped his hands around the bedpost and rested his forehead against the beveled wood. Eyes closed, he fought the urge either to rage or cry. Neither one would do him any good; Potter would still hate him in the end.

He should've gone back to the Dark Lord. At least then he would've been protected from a broken heart.

tbc...