Review reply: Why isn't Harry shocked that Draco is gay? Because Draco came into St. Mungo's thinking that he was pregnant, fifespice. What kind of straight man has a pregnancy scare, I ask you?

A/N: Wow, people keep adding this to their Alert lists. I should probably tell you guys now… There aren't going to be very many more chapters of this; three or four more, at most. This one is full to the line with the promised drangst.

And nobody's answered my question yet…

.-xXXx-.

Draco woke up with a sweet smell filling his lungs and a hand rubbing his back.

Mmm, he thought sleepily.

And then he jerked fully awake. There was a hand in his bed? Usually when he woke up, the only hands in his bed belonged to him.

Then he realized that he wasn't actually in his bed. On the floor beside the bed, more like, with all the blankets heaped on top of him… And his companion.

His mind raced as he tried to remember the events of the night before… Logically, the hand must be attached to an arm, which must be attached to a shoulder, which must be attached to a chest, to which legs must be attached (well, Draco had standards – he was not about to shag any paraplegics), between which, hopefully, there was something worthwhile.

He hoped.

By half-opening his eyes and turning his head just so, he could see out the window while pretending to still be asleep. Judging by the pale light streaming through the closed curtains, it was just past eight in the morning.

That in itself was weird. Generally his, er, companion for the night would be gone by now. And then they would never see each other again. And then Draco would go to a different club the next weekend and find another one.

He steeled himself and rolled over to face the 'Morning After' scene number… Well, he'd lost count.

The hand on his back stilled immediately. Draco noticed that it didn't leave, though, and when he saw a bright pair of green eyes peering up at him from under a blanket, he was glad for that.

"Morning," Harry said pleasantly, through a mouthful of sheets.

"Hi," Draco replied awkwardly.

"Breakfast?"

"I've… Erm… Cereal."

Draco paused in thought. Was it really only yesterday that he had bought that box of cereal, and Harry had gotten his address and given him cauliflower?

No, wait. That'd been two days ago. Oops.

"Cereal," Harry repeated carefully, seeming to weigh the word in his blanketed mouth. Did the word ever taste as good as the actual cereal did?

"Yeah," he replied, briefly wondering if Harry would let him sit on his lap and feed it to him.

Harry tilted his head and looked at Draco in wonderment.

"You know what?" he said suddenly, pushing the blankets off his face, "Screw cereal."

And with that, he pulled Draco into his arms and started kissing him hungrily.

I'm actually sort of hungry, protested the tiny part of Draco's brain that remained unfogged for a millisecond longer before it was enveloped in lust.

On the other hand, this was much better than cereal.

.-xXXx-.

"So what happens now?" Harry said, sitting on the kitchen table and swinging his legs.

Draco looked up from the frying pan and said, "What do you mean?"

Much to Draco's chagrin, Harry'd decided to put clothes on, and urged Draco to do the same.

And then, when Draco had point-blank refused to, Harry had kissed him until he was too dazed to argue.

Stupid Potter. Draco wasn't sure if he preferred the Harry that made him take pills, or this new one that was apparently a male nymphomaniac.

"Do we do this again?" Harry asked, gesturing to the air between them.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you want to?"

"I guess so…"

"Then that means yes, we do this again. Frequently, I hope."

Draco smiled and tipped the bacon onto a plate. It was amazing how he could suddenly cook, especially considering that yesterday he was so bad that he could've burned ice cream straight from the tub.

"I – I really like you, Draco," Harry said, suddenly blushing profusely.

Draco looked up, his smile fading, and their eyes met. Harry looked incredibly confused and utterly embarrassed. Draco had an unreadable expression on his face.

"I really like you too –" he began, but he was interrupted by a polyphonic ring tone from a Muggle mobile phone.

Harry pulled the offending object from his pocket and, with an apologetic glance at Draco, pressed ANSWER.

"Hello?" he said. He frowned and turned away from Draco. "Ginny? Yes… I'm sorry. No, no, I'll be home soon, darling."

Draco dropped the frying pan on the floor with a large clang.

"I'm sorry," Harry continued, not even turning around. "Yes, I know. I lost track of time…"

Draco knelt on the floor to pick up the pan, but every word from Harry was still audible.

"Yes, darling, I know. Tell James that Daddy will be home soon. Love you. Bye."

He turned around. Draco was standing in the center of the kitchen, a frozen expression on his face. His grey eyes were once again like pools of cold slate.

"Maybe you should get going," Draco said stiffly.

Harry blinked, then said, "Wait –"

"You shouldn't keep your wife waiting," Draco snapped. "And I don't want to hear your explanation anyway. Go."

Harry looked at him sadly, shook his head once, then left. The click of the door behind him was like a resounding smack in the head.

Draco slumped onto the kitchen floor, glared halfheartedly at the now-cold bacon, then burst into tears.

.-xXXx-.

A/N: And I know you're all going to hate me for that, so REVIEW!

I don't have anything against paraplegics… But Draco does, apparently.

And also, for those that read my other stories, History Repeating will be updated ASAICBB – as soon as I can be bothered. I've got endings for every multi-chaptered fic I do in mind, except for Chain of Hearts, which is discontinued (because, just between you and me, it's a piece of crap and I don't like it anymore), and Scar, because that one's fairly new and I'm not sure where I'm going with it.