Fate and a Rose

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter (and associated characters, likenesses, concepts, etc.) belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. AOL/Time Warner, Inc., among others. I make no claim, written or implied, upon Harry Potter. No money is being made and no infringement or disrespect to the creators / copyright holders is intended.

Warning: This story will contain slash (i.e. male/male relationships) and mpreg (but not until later). In this chapter there are (slight) mentions of abortion. These are very relevant to later chapters the fic, and, for future reference, there may be more mentions of it at a later time. The author apologizes for any inconveniences. If you don't like these things, I'd advise you not to read this fic! Thanks!

A/N: I have read all of the HP books, and all of them are relevant to this fic in some way, but some of the things that have happened in HBP will not happen until later in this fic, so please acknowledge that.

Chapter Five

Phase One: Denial

The next morning found Draco laying curled up against Harry, who had a leg thrown over Draco's hip possessively and an arm flung over Draco's shoulder. When Draco woke up, he found that he rather liked this new position, but though it made him feel a lot safer than he had in a long while, he also had to use the toilet. If you had walked into the room for at least a half an hour after Draco woke up, you would find Draco struggling to get loose of Harry without waking him. It would have been easier if Draco knew that Harry slept like a log and almost nothing could wake him up, but Draco didn't find out that information until much later.

As it was, it wasn't for another half an hour until he was successful, and that was only after Harry did wake up. With a snort, Harry had rolled over and onto the floor, which immediately jarred him awake in time for him to see a blurry outline of Draco running as fast as he could into the bathroom to prevent an accident. Harry raised a brow as he watched Draco slam the bathroom door shut, then he stood and sat back on the bed. Since he couldn't get back to sleep after a few moments of non-productful trying, he put his glasses on and looked around him.

The hospital wing was as it always had been. The only thing that was missing, or rather, person that was missing was Madam Pomfrey, who had promised to be back sometime around lunch, and that a house elf would bring up their breakfast. But something was off, or at least that was what it seemed like to Harry. When they had gone to bed, each had been in their own beds. But Harry could have sworn that Draco had been scurrying from his bed to the bathroom instead of his own.

When Draco came back, Harry was lounging on his bed with a book in his hands, though to be honest, Harry had no idea what it was about, nor what the title of it was. He had been staring idly at the first page for over five minutes, and hadn't read a single word. He had just found it on the bed-side table, and decided that he would rather have his hands occupied. Draco looked suspiciously at Harry, and made his way slowly to his own bed.

"Uh, morning, Potter," He greeted, though he kept his eyes averted guiltily. In the middle of the night he found he couldn't sleep and had crept silently into Harry's bed. Harry had seemed more than welcoming, as he had wrapped his arms warmly around him and held him closely, but when Draco had turned around to look at him, he found that his eyes were closed and he was snoring lightly.

Harry grunted in response, and continued to pretend to be reading the book, though he was actually mulling over thoughts that refused to go away. Dumbledore had pulled him aside a few moments after Madam Pomfrey had swept from the room, Draco re-entering along with him, though Dumbledore insisted he stay behind because he needed to talk to Harry in private, and they had gone over the same things that Harry was sure Draco already knew, because of the weird looks he had been receiving from him.

When he had gone back to their shared room at the back of the infirmary (as no one else resided there, and Madam Pomfrey had told Harry a couple of months ago that this year the injuries seemed to be dwindling and she was glad to have Harry's company, though she would have rather had it under different circumstances as Harry had broken his arm, once again product of a Quidditch game gone awry), Draco had been asleep. Well, it was either that, or he was a great actor. Harry had climbed into his own bed and, after a short spell of sickness and a severe headache, had swiftly fallen asleep, though he was sure that he had woken up sometime in the middle of the night to be met by a warm body (which he could have sworn was a pillow at the time, but was now coming to believe it was actually Draco that had been pressed up against him so intimately).

He was pulled out of his musings by the slightly annoyed voice of Draco. "Are you going to answer me, or are you going to just sit there pretending to read all day?"

Harry jumped at the sudden intrusion, but then realized that Draco had asked him a question, and embarrassingly enough, he didn't have the slightest clue of what it was. He also realized that his head was pounding, and he suspected that Madam Pomfrey would be happy to know that he had vomited at least twice in the preceding night, though both times the sick had vanished before Harry even had a chance to worry about it, and he had fallen asleep even before that, though he was rather ashamed to admit it. Sighing and pulling himself back to the present, Harry asked, "Uh…what was it that you asked?" He flushed slightly as he looked up and his gaze collided with Draco's, who's eyes were blazing in annoyance.

"I asked you what Dumbledore talked to you about last night." Draco said rather huffily, in Harry's honest opinion.

"Oh…um…yeah, that," Harry found that he couldn't really form words. It was as though the last few weeks hadn't happened at all, and he was back to square one with Draco. Draco, who was sitting impatiently across from Harry, on his own bed with his hands on his hips, wasn't making it much easier; not by a long shot.

"Well," Draco asked, a sneer becoming evident in the lilt in his voice. Since Harry had looked away, he couldn't tell what Draco's expression looked like, but the tone of his voice definitely told Harry that he was either sneering or about to sneeze (Harry found Draco's 'sneering' voice very annoying, much like someone's voice when they were about to sneeze, and it was a great inside joke between he and Ron, though it hadn't been used for a while). "Are you going to answer me," He repeated. "Or are you going to continue pretending to read all day?"

Harry glared. "He talked to me about you and me being soul mates!" Harry said angrily. "But I suppose you already knew that, because of the smug looks you kept shooting me once you got back into the room. Are you happy that you were the first to know?" Harry asked expectantly, and Draco looked taken aback.

"Oh, sod off, Potter," He retaliated finally. "It's not like it's something I wanted to happen. Don't look at me like I'm the one who initiated it; you know bloody well that your soul started it!"

Harry glared at Draco and retaliated with a resolved, "Did not!"

Which was replied to with a confident, "It most certainly did too!"

Harry's brow furrowed into a hard glare and he shouted, "My soul is unpretentious, unlike yours, and would never think to touch your disgusting soul!"

Draco growled and shot Harry a nasty look. "Unpretentious my arse! You're so bloody conceited with your "nobility" and "humbleness" that you can't even see straight! Unpretentious, ha! More like a bloody unprincipled prat, not to mention daft! I don't even care what that bleeding git told you about us being soul mates, I find it absolutely hard to believe that we even live in the same part of the universe! And by the way, my soul is much more knowledgeable, and I'll have you know that it won't be swooned by your stupid soul's attempts of seduction!"

"Well, you asked!" Harry insisted, and Draco turned away from him with a huff and picked up the glass of water that was sitting on his own bed-side table, which was then flung immediately, glass and all, at a very startled Harry. "What in the bloody hell was that for!" he cried indignantly as he ducked the glass and it shattered on the stone wall behind his head.

Draco shrugged. "It certainly made me feel better, though," He said with a smug smirk.

Harry glared down at his now sopping book with a forlorn look on his face and frowned. "I was going to read this eventually!"

Draco shrugged yet again, and Harry was becoming rather fed up with the way he was dismissing everything. If that git shrugs one more time… Harry found himself thinking threateningly, though he found that he couldn't complete the empty threat, and really meant nothing at all if Draco never heard it anyway.

"Well, I was eventually going to drink that glass of water, but somehow you've figured out a way to make it so neither of us gets what we want. I hope you're happy, though. I'm going to start with my breakfast, and you can do whatever you want. I can't see why that old bat won't just let us out of here, we're both perfectly capable of handling ourselves…" Draco continued to grumble as he walked over to a small table that had been set up at the other end of the infirmary, complete with coffee, toast, eggs, bacon and other bits of breakfast that both Harry and himself found acceptable for breakfast.

Harry watched grudgingly as Draco tucked a napkin into his lap and began to eat, all the while thinking about how Draco always seemed pristine and proper, and how even when he had gone into the bathroom, not a single hair had been out of place. It actually made him feel rather inadequate, though he would never tell this to Draco, who would probably laugh in his face.

Their first meal together in the hospital wing felt much akin to a first date. There was the awkwardness (mostly on Harry's behalf), and occasionally they bumped knuckles or other parts belonging to their hands as they reached for food. Harry always pulled back as if burned with a hot branding iron, but Draco just lifted a perfect brow and continued as if nothing had happened.

By the conclusion of their meal, Harry was a nervous wreck, and Draco seemed to be the one that left the table unscathed. Everything seemed to roll off of Draco, and though Harry admired this about him, he also loathed the way he was the only one affected by the whole "soul mates" thing. Draco took it in great stride, and seemed to be adjusting quite well. Harry couldn't help but scowl at Draco as he continued to ignore him and pretend that everything was fine.

XXX

It was mid-afternoon when Hermione came up to visit. Actually it was not as much of a visit as it was Harry comforting a sobbing Hermione as she struggled to tell him exactly what had her in that position.

"Oh, Harry, it was horrible! And everything's been going so great between us!" Hermione sobbed, covering her blotchy face.

"What?" Harry asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Draco looked over the top of a book he had had one of his friends bring up for him so that he could study, and raised an eyebrow at the condition Hermione was in. Hermione just continued to sob onto Harry's shoulder, and Draco felt a wave of possessiveness wash over him as he watched Harry comfort her.

"Ron!" Hermione wailed.

"Ron? Ron what, Hermione? What did he do?"

"He…he…he.." Hermione trailed off to hiccup, which was shortly followed by another bout of screeching wails, each torn from her chest and lips forcibly, leaving her a sobbing mess on Harry's bed by the time she finally settled down again. "He doesn't want it!" Hermione cried out after taking a few deep breaths.

"He…wha'?" Harry was slow on the uptake, and Draco had lost all interest in his book, which was now lying on the floor in a rumpled, undignified sort of way. If Hermione had not been in such a state, she would have quickly reprimanded Draco for mistreatment of books, but as it was, she hardly noticed at all.

"Ron, he says he doesn't think it's his!" Hermione wailed again and stuffed her face into the nook of Harry's neck, continuing to sob. Harry could feel her tears on his throat, and it made him rather uncomfortable, as he had never really been the one to comfort before (usually that was Hermione's job), and he felt that he wasn't doing quite a good enough job of it, as Hermione was a sobbing mess in his arms and he felt helpless to stop it. "And he refuses to take care of a baby that isn't of his own blood!" Hermione crumbled into another heaving bout of sobs, and Harry blinked stupidly. "He…he said I should get rid of it!"

Draco's eyes widened. "You're pregnant?" He asked, standing and rubbing Hermione's back, though rather grudgingly.

Hermione nodded against Harry's chest and Draco felt another possessive wave wash over him, but fought it down.

Hermione took a deep breath and said, "I could never kill my own life, Harry. Never."

Harry nodded dumbly as he watched Hermione lay back on his bed, her hands holding her stomach as though she had been wounded. Draco looked back and forth between them curiously.

"She's already a part of me, you know? Even though I've only been pregnant for a few weeks, I've already grown attached to her." With watering, pleading eyes, she looked up at Harry. "Is that so wrong, Harry?"

Harry's heart contracted painfully at the sight of Hermione, broken and falling apart on his bed, and he wished he had the answer that she needed, but he didn't. His own eyes started to water, but he held his tears in check. "I…I don't know, Hermione. I don't know."

Draco looked scornfully at Hermione, then scoldingly at Harry as he sat on the bed on the other side of Hermione. "Of course there's nothing wrong with that, Granger." He snapped. "It's your child, and it's been growing in you for all this time, and all Weasel can say is that he doesn't think it's his? Just wait, I'll bet she has his hair. Then he'll be all sorry and dreadful until you take him back, which you won't."

Hermione burst into a new bout of sobs, and Draco looked at her with a bewildered look on his face.

It was later that night, after Hermione had gone back to Gryffindor Tower with a promise to visit the next day, that Harry looked over at Draco from his own bed with a glare. "You aren't that great at comforting, you know." He accused, and Draco shot Harry a dirty look that was a mixture between a pout, a frown, and an angry glare.

"I wasn't comforting her, I was merely stating a fact. Who else's could it be? Hermione knows it's his, you know it's his, hell, I'm sure everyone knows it's his. Who else, besides Weasel, could be so thick?"

Harry rolled his eyes and rolled onto his back. "You could have been more comforting about it, though," He mumbled.

Draco scowled. "Oh, like you were so much better!" Draco accused, rolling onto his side to stare at Harry, which, Harry had to admit (if only to himself), felt quite unnerving.

Harry sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the chills he was receiving at the way Draco continued to intently gaze at him. "This isn't what this year was supposed to be like," Harry finally whispered, and Draco had to strain to hear what Harry had said. "Hermione wasn't supposed to get pregnant, and these…things weren't supposed to happen."

Draco thought he glimpsed a lone tear trekking its way down Harry's cheek, but it could have just been a trick of light, so he let it go without mentioning it. "My life's not all roses and chocolate, either, Potter." Draco admitted. When Harry finally looked over at Draco, it was evident that he had been crying. His eyes pierced into Draco almost violently, and just as surprising as the intensity in them was the way they seemed to glow in the dark, a light green that nearly had Draco gasping for breath as Harry picked apart the meaning behind the words he had just voiced.

"It was supposed to be easy. Why isn't it easy?" Harry whimpered, closing his eyes as another tear found itself rolling slowly down his cheek to land on his pillow and immediately be absorbed by it.

Draco sighed, but Harry wasn't finished. "My life's never been easy. Why can't it just be easy for once? Why can't Voldemort just go away, why can't Ron and Hermione stop fighting, why can't Hermione just not be pregnant?"

Draco blinked. These were, by far, the most words that Harry had ever consciously voiced aloud to him; and though they weren't happy, Draco found himself savouring the way they rolled off Harry's tongue, the tone with which he voiced them, and the passion and meaning behind the words.

"Harry, worse things have happened," Draco tried to console the sadness that was washing off of Harry in waves, but Harry just glowered at him.

"Yeah, I'm sure that every wizard has a dark overlord after them! I'm sure everyone needs to stay with a family that hates them just so they won't be killed or worse by that dark overlord! And I'm sure that everyone has the whole Wizarding community relying on them to vanquish the very person that wants them dead. Yeah, everyone has a life just like mine, and theirs are so much harder." Harry looked deeply into Draco's eyes. "I would give anything to be normal. I would give anything to be someone else, anyone else, really. Anything…" he trailed off and rolled onto his side, facing away from Draco, and moments later, Draco could have sworn he heard a sob emit from the motionless form in the bed across from him.

His heart clenched painfully, and before he knew it, he was repeating the actions of the night before, settling himself into Harry's bed, though this time he spooned up behind him. Though Draco felt Harry stiffen, he didn't oppose, and Draco's arms tightened protectively around Harry as they both drifted into a fitful sleep.

XXX

Harry awoke with a start, his scar throbbing with the worst pain he had experienced yet pulsing through his skull, wrenching his breath in pants from his body as he tried to control his urge to scream. As he tried to recollect what he had been dreaming before he had fallen asleep, Draco sat up beside him and placed a worried hand on his shoulder. "Are…are you alright?"

Harry gulped and nodded as he gasped for breath, trying to steady his heavily beating heart. Once the pain in his scar had returned to nothing, Harry sighed and stepped out of bed, though he immediately regretted it, as the stone floor beneath his feet was cold and unforgiving. Harry yearned to climb back under the covers and fall asleep, but one glance at his otherwise-occupied bed left that option completely out of the question.

Draco was sleep-rumpled, his hair out of place and his eyes squinted so that he could make out Harry through his sleep-fogged haze. His pajamas were completely wrinkled from sleep and a lot of tossing and turning during the night on his part. His head was pounding, and his stomach was clenched painfully; it felt as if he hadn't eaten in days. With a groan, Draco fell back onto the mattress in a lump, clutching his stomach with one hand and his head with the other. This time it was Harry's voice that asked the question. "Are you okay?"

Draco groaned again and clenched his eyes shut against the happily rising sun that was now streaming through the window. "Ugh…no. I think I'm going to be sick. What was it that we had for supper last night?"

"Uh…" It seemed as though the dream Harry had been having wasn't the only thing he had forgotten. "I…uh, I don't remember." Harry said sheepishly.

"A lot of bloody good that does me," Draco grumbled.

"Sorry," Harry said as he sat on Draco's unoccupied bed with a heavy sigh.

"Good morning, boys!" Madam Pomfrey greeted cheerfully. Then, when she had spotted Draco groaning on the bed, she said, "Oh, my. Apparently it's not such a good morning after all. Are you okay, dear?"

With another groan, Draco glared at first Harry, then the healer who was bustling about the room. "No!" He cried as his stomach clenched violently and he came close to losing whatever it had been they had eaten the night before.

"Ah," Madam Pomfrey said as she approached the bed. "Perhaps Albus didn't give it to you after all."

"Give me what?" Draco asked desperately.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to ignore Draco as she leaned over the bed and checked his forehead with the back of her hand. "Oh, you're burning up. Strange, though. It seems that your soul has begun without it. I don't believe this has ever happened before. You must be desperate!" Madam Pomfrey grinned and patted Draco softly on the head. Draco managed to wince at the pain that immediately began shooting from where she touched him, and then groaned again.

"What did Dumbledore forget to give me!" He shrieked.

"Your Purification Potion, of course." Madam Pomfrey said as she rustled around in a bag she had been carrying, drawing out a sickly looking grey mess of a potion, which had Draco clenching his fist over his mouth upon sight. "Oh, now, don't worry. It won't be that bad; Harry's already had his, and he's lived to tell the tale, haven't you, Harry?"

Harry nodded with a grimace as Madam Pomfrey reached out to pull Draco's hand away from his mouth. "Here, Harry, hold on to his hand. Maybe it'll help a bit."

Harry blanched and Draco desperately reached his hand out to Harry, his eyes pleading. There was pain, deeply seeded in Draco's eyes, and Harry couldn't resist the lure of Draco's outstretched hand. Sighing in resolve, Harry reached out and grasped Draco's hand firmly. What followed shocked both Harry and Draco. Madam Pomfrey, on the other hand, ceased to notice, despite her usual observant ways.

The calmness that seemed through Draco immediately after Harry had grasped his hand was almost like an aphrodisiac, which shocked Draco thoroughly. He arched into Harry's grasp and tried to yank away from Madam Pomfrey, who's touch sent immediate shocks of pain and discomfort through Draco's body. Harry, too, felt the affect Draco's touch had on him, and he found himself restraining himself from jumping Draco right then and there. It was the first time in almost two days that the two had touched, and it was heaven to have the feeling of Harry back again. As a matter of fact, if Madam Pomfrey hadn't been there right then, there was no telling what would have happened.

The sexual tension was thick in the room; one could almost cut through it with a knife. The room was so silent that you could almost hear a pin drop, but the silence was instantly cut through with the shrill-sounding voice of Madam Pomfrey, saying, "Yes, that's right. Almost done now, my boy. Oh no, you swallow it, don't you dare let it come back up yet."

Draco and Harry were both cut from the trance-like state they had been in, staring deeply into one another's eyes, and Draco noticed for the first time that his body had been complying to Madam Pomfrey's orders almost against his wishes, and definitely without him knowing about it. This caused him to choke on the rather tasteless, though thick, potion. Madam Pomfrey glared at him and pulled the vial of potion away from his lips, allowing him time to breathe, before placing it at his lips again.

This time, though, Draco could most definitely taste it; a mixture between gravel and dirt, mixed with the coppery taste of blood. He gagged reflexively, but the potion continued to go down his throat, and he looked over at Harry, who had glanced away. Draco willed Harry's eyes to meet his, but for the continuing moments, which felt like hours, that Draco was forced to swallow the potion, Harry kept his gaze averted.

"There, now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she pulled the now empty vial away from Draco's lips and he was immediately taken over by the urge to vomit. "Very good, now, as I've told Harry, the nausea should last for a good ten to twelve hours. In another few hours you should begin to have a headache, and a massive amount of stomach cramps should follow your bouts of vomiting. You may also experience excessive emotions, ranging from anything between anger and depression." Madam Pomfrey recited, and Harry couldn't help but notice that the words she said sounded exactly like the ones she had told him, minus the endearments. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey didn't like Draco nearly as much as she liked Harry. Then, she added, "Since your soul has decided to start without the potion, I don't know how much of a difference that will make. It may depend upon how long you have been having these symptoms."

Draco winced as a searing amount of pain speared through his head. It felt as though his brain were being sliced in two. "Uh," Another wince. "Only since I woke up." Without further ado, Draco leaned over the bed and continued to be sick all over Harry's bare feet. Harry groaned in disgust and looked to Madam Pomfrey, who, with a grin, cast a cleaning charm on the floor and Harry's feet before walking into her office.

XXXXXXiXXXXXX

A/N: Yes, this chapter is shorter than some of my others, but I figured I'd leave you all on a happy note, rather than a depressed, sad one. The next chapter will be up soon, and next time there will be more mentions of the mixed emotions both Harry and Draco are feeling, though whether they're because of the Purification Potion or not, I can't say. Until next time! ; )