As the birth day approached, Harry started to notice things. Like the fact that people were being nicer to him; he got a free mug of beer at the Broomsticks, and people kept offering to help him down stairs which he was perfectly capable of navagating on his own. On the one hand, it felt good to have all the little favors being done to him, after Umbridge's reign of terror the year before.
On the other, his back was killing him.
Towards the end of the seventh day, Harry was studying in the library, when Draco appeared out of nowhere. Oddly, he wasn't flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Potter," he said, "We need to talk."
Harry carefully sealed his ink and moved it off the table.
"About what?" he said warily.
Draco slowly sat down, keeping his hands in plain view.
"About-" his mouth worked like he was swallowing something tough "-our child."
Harry unconciously reached for his stomach. "What's there to talk about?"
"Its future."
Harry's face could've been carved from stone.
"I know we've never liked each other, but that thing in you is my child as much as yours, and it deserves to have a decent life. You can't give it that life running around the world being an Auror. What if you're killed? What if your enemies use it against you?" At some point, he had leaned in, and was now speaking in a near-whisper. "What if Lord Voldemort uses it against you?"
"Speaking of which, how are you and he getting on?"
It was a shot in the dark, but it scored. Draco's face went blank, and he leaned back. He rubbed his forehead, and he suddenly looked far more tired than his sixteen years, and not a little bit scared. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Nevermind. What are you going to it, hmm? Hand if off to one of your servants in that big ol' drafty house of yours? Hmm? Given the job you mother did on you, I think I have reason to doubt her parenting sk-"
"You shut your mouth," said Draco hoarsely. Harry noted with some satisfaction that his face had gone red, and his hands were shaking. "You don't have the maturity to take care of a child, Potter. Do you know how much money my father has? Do you realize that we could take the baby from you and have it tied up in the bureaucracy for years? Face it, Potter, you don't have a chance. That child will be mine."
"The connections that helped him right into prison?" Harry started to gather up his books. "This conversation is over."
Draco reached over and grabbed his tie, pulling him close, close enough to kiss. "That child is mine as much as yours, Potter, and it's a pureblood." he hissed. "Do you think that you honestly deserve to keep it? Sooner or later, I will have my son, and the Malfoy line will continue."
"Is there a problem?"
Draco leaned away from Harry, and raised his voice to a normal level. "No, Madam Pince. No problem at all." He straightened his tie, smoothed his hair, and stalked off in a swirl of black robes.
"Harry?"
Harry was watching Draco leave. He sighed, and rubbed his throat. "I'm fine," he said, sitting down.