"Potter! Come quickly!"
Harry leapt out of bed again and ran for the stairs. He clattered down two flights and flew into the living room. He frantically scanned the room for the source of trouble.
"He's crawling!" Draco looked up from the floor with an astonished laugh. His brow furrowed. "What are you so worked up over?"
"Merlin, Malfoy, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Harry collapsed onto a chair.
"You should relax, Potter," Draco went back to the baby with a delighted grin. "That's right, come on, you can do it!"
"I never would have guessed that you'd have such a maternal instinct," Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes.
"Sod off," Draco bent down and gave Ron a silly grin. "Can you say sod off? Say sod off, Uncle Potter!"
"Wanker," Harry went to the kitchen and checked the ice box. "Have you eaten?"
"Not yet," Draco said. "Speaking of which I think chubby here is ready for something more substantial than milk. Aren't you? Yes you are."
"All I have is bread and a few eggs," Harry remembered that his shopping trip with Ron had been cut short.
"I take mine over easy."
Harry rolled his eyes and set a pan on the stove. A moment later Draco wandered in and sat gracefully at the table. He looked around at the shabby, comfortable kitchen and propped his feet up on a second chair.
"You should go shower," Harry said. He could feel Draco's eyes on his back.
"I need a change of clothes, too," Draco said. "I'll just pop home for a couple minutes."
Harry turned and met his eye, anxiety immediately returning. Was he making up a reason to leave again? The last time he'd left Ron had cried for hours.
"Don't panic, I'll be back in no time," Draco stood and stretched. "Can't have you going to the Ministry and ruining my life."
Harry swallowed hard. He wanted to remind him that he'd already taken that threat back, but was afraid it was the only thing that would keep him from being left alone with the baby.
"Back in a bit," Draco dropped a hand onto Harry's shoulder before catching himself and yanking it back with a scowl. "Saint bloody Potter," he cursed under his breath, then disappeared through the Floo.
Harry went back to the stove and then realized with a start that Ron was unattended. He rushed to the living room and was greeted with a laugh and a pair of waving fists. Draco had moved the furniture to create an enclosed space, a temporary playpen to contain the baby's movements. Ron's big blue eyes sparkled as he laughed at Harry, his bright ginger hair standing up in fuzzy spikes.
"Did you make a poo, Ron?" Harry asked as a pungent smell reached his nose. Ron laughed again.
Harry returned to the kitchen to plate the eggs and turn off the flame. He changed Ron and ruined another flannel in the process, so he promised himself that he would buy Molly a whole new set. He washed up and poured a bottle for Ron, and when he was happily nursing away Harry returned to the kitchen to eat.
The eggs were cold.
He sighed and put the pan back on the stove. Draco arrived through the Floo a moment later and swept the plate of eggs to the table without a word. He took a bite and spat it out.
"These eggs are cold," he complained. Harry shot him a nasty look. "Are those mine?" He pointed his fork at the stove.
Harry sighed and scooped the freshly cooked eggs onto Draco's plate and cracked two more.
"I said over easy," Draco said. "These are over hard."
Harry shot him a nastier look.
"You make a terrible housewife," Draco added.
"You want this pan across your head, Malfoy?"
"Where's my toast?"
Ron giggled loudly from the living room. Draco went to have a look and covered his nose. "Faugh, what did you do, Weasley?"
"Again? This one is yours. I just changed him and I haven't eaten yet," Harry said, peering over Draco's shoulder.
"How can you think of eating at a time like this?" Draco stepped over the barricade and prepared himself for the worst.
"I'm starving," Harry said. "I didn't get supper last night."
"Well why didn't you say so?" Draco asked, unbuttoning Ron's onesie. "Standing around talking instead of eating, that's just daft. Tell him, Weasley. Say, Uncle Potter, you're completely daft."
Harry ground his teeth and dug into his fried eggs. He was so hungry that he didn't care that this batch was already cold, too. When he was done he went upstairs for a shower, leaving Draco's loud protests over handling poopy nappies behind.
"It's worse than a Cruciatus Curse, Potter!" Draco shouted after him.
Harry closed the bathroom door with a bang, just to emphasize his departure. He sat on the loo while the water heated and rubbed his tired eyes. It had been one day, less than twenty-four hours. How was he so knackered already?
The shower was absolute heaven. Harry couldn't believe he had been peed and vomited on but hadn't showered until this moment. When he looked for soap he remembered that Ginny was the only one using this bathroom anymore, now that Percy and George had moved out. Which meant his only option was to wash with the feminine scent of gardenias and honeysuckle.
He sniffed the bar of soap and closed his eyes. A memory of curling up with Ginny in the Gryffindor common room rose to the surface. He remembered holding her closely and kissing her, the floral scent of her soap filling his head. He lathered and inhaled deeply, remembering touching her back and snogging her with his eyes closed, fantasizing about boys he wished he could snog instead. He remembered how he used to avoid touching her hair, her long, soft, feminine hair that no amount of imagination could turn masculine. He remembered avoiding her breasts, instead cupping her arse and imagining a flat chest lying on top of him. When they had broken up, they had done so with a mutual sense of relief.
He touched himself, his head filled with the scent of a woman that he had come to associate with the fantasy of men. He ran his slick hand over his cock and imagined faceless body parts, arms, legs, shoulders, a strong chest, a firm arse, blond hair-
Harry gasped as he came and braced his hand on the wall. Allowing himself just the tiniest hum of pleasure he smiled and smelled the bar of soap one more time. Gardenias and honeysuckle, his favorite.
The bathroom was filled with steam when he climbed out. Checking himself in the anti-fog charmed mirror he sneered at his messy black hair and knew combing it would be an exercise in futility. He yanked and tugged and tried in vain to push it down flat, but to no avail. He toweled off, running his hands down his flat abdomen and telling himself any man would appreciate what he had to offer. Too bad none had yet. He wondered how Draco's date had gone. And for just the briefest second he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to run his hands down Draco's abdomen.
He shook it off and pulled his clothes back on. After one last futile pass at his hair he went downstairs and joined Draco and Ron in the kitchen. Draco had transfigured a high chair from one of the dining chairs and was scooping applesauce into Ron's eager little mouth.
"That was the world's longest wank," Draco said without looking up.
Harry's cheeks burned. He didn't know anything. He was just jabbing at Harry again with an unfortunate coincidental truth. He decided to ignore it. "Where did you find that?"
"Pantry. I checked, it's still good," Draco looked up with a frown. "Honestly, it's like you didn't even look."
"When was I supposed to look?"
"When I told you earlier that he's ready for real food."
"You mean when I was cooking your breakfast and watching Ron while you left for a relaxing shower?"
"Terrible housewife," Draco shook his head.
A sharp retort manifested on Harry's lips and dried up when he saw the secretive smirk on Draco's face. He was starting to get his sense of humor. It was infuriating and grating, but he could sort of tell what was supposed to be funny. Even though it wasn't, really.
"This isn't going to hold him for long," Draco scraped the bottom of the container and popped the spoon into Ron's mouth. "We need to go to the store."
"And take him?" Harry frowned.
"No," Draco shook his head. "He'll slow us down." He raised his chin and called, "Hey Bean, get over here."
A pop from the corner startled Ron, but fortunately he laughed instead of crying. A small house elf crept towards them with his head bowed deferentially. He wore a tiny green tank top that read, "Kiss me, I'm Irish."
"Bean is very well practiced in the art of childcare," Draco said. "He practically raised me. Did all of the messy work, anyway."
"You gave him clothing?" Harry looked at Draco cockeyed. It was so unlikely.
"Well you know," Draco averted his eyes. "Pansy found a teddy bear in a muggle shop, and it was just about the right size, and It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"So you're a free elf?" Harry asked Bean. The shy creature nodded once.
"It's no big deal," Draco waved his hand. "Seemed like a lot of wasted energy trying to keep someone who doesn't want to stay."
"Does he treat you well?" Harry asked the elf.
"Yes, sir, Harry Potter, sir. And Bean is loyal to Master Draco," the elf said with his head bowed.
"Do you find that difficult to believe?" Draco pressed his lips together in annoyance.
"Yes," Harry said simply. He lifted Ron from the chair and took him to the sink to wash his face and hands. Ron clapped his moist, applesauced palms to Harry's cheeks and blew sloppy raspberries.
"Fat lot of good that shower did you," Draco laughed in delight at Harry's dismay.
"Thanks a lot, mate," Harry sighed. He cleaned him up and set him on the rug, then wiped his face.
"Bean, I'd like you to watch Ron while we pop out to the shops for some groceries," Draco said. Bean nodded and with surprising strength for his size he hefted the baby in his arms and carried him into the living room.
"His name is really Bean?" Harry asked.
"I like it," Draco shrugged. He put on an overdone posh accent, "Fetch me a glass of wine, old Bean."
"You're a nutter."
"You knew that."
"Yes well," Harry cocked his head. "You're a different flavor of nutter from the one I knew before."
"Maybe I'm the same flavor, but you've never really tasted me before now," Draco raised a suggestive eyebrow. He laughed and pointed, "Look at how uncomfortable you are, Potter."
Harry blushed and looked away. He wasn't inclined to explain that he was uncomfortable because he liked the suggestion, not because it disgusted him.
"Come on, you're holding up the works," Draco plucked at Harry's sleeve and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "Hogsmeade," he announced.
"No wait," Harry stopped him. "I want to go somewhere else." Without explaining he grabbed Draco's elbow and Disapparated.
They arrived in an alley between two brick buildings. It was immediately apparent that he'd taken them to a muggle neighborhood. Draco frowned and yanked his arm out of Harry's grip.
"That's twice now that you've forced a side-along on me," he snapped. "It would be more polite to ask first."
"Sorry," Harry brushed past him and led the way to the end of the alley. "I need a muggle shop. I want disposable nappies and wipes and tinned baby food."
Draco followed him inside the modern grocery store and gawked at the colorful displays. He stood out in sharp relief in his charcoal gray turtleneck and black trousers. Harry waved him along and pushed a trolley down the first aisle. He picked up a small pack of nappies, some flushable wipes, and several jars of various mushes and purées.
Draco watched for just a moment before piling in boxes of cereal, finger foods, bubble bath, and an assortment of colorful toys.
"He's not going to be a baby much longer," Harry reminded him.
"He still needs toys, you cruel bastard."
"And who is paying for this?"
"That's an excellent question. You chose a muggle shop, surely you have muggle currency," Draco lifted the hem of his shirt and pointed at a flat pouch of Galleons that was strapped to his belt.
"You can owe me," Harry sighed.
They moved on to another aisle and selected some easy ready-meals that they could pop into the oven in a pinch. Draco dropped two jugs of milk into the trolley and raised a challenging eyebrow. Harry didn't argue. Draco dropped two jugs of wine into the trolley and raised his eyebrow again. Harry didn't argue.
"How was your hot date last night?" Harry asked as they browsed the butcher counter.
"Why do you have to say it like that, hot date?" Draco sighed. "I realize it makes you uncomfortable, but you don't need to treat it like some tawdry thing."
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable," Harry said.
"Right, I forgot, the savior of the world and his open-minded acceptance of everyone, oh wait, unless it's me," Draco tossed a packet of crisps into the basket.
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable, Malfoy," Harry stopped walking and eyed him meaningfully.
"I'm sure you-" Draco turned and met his gaze. His eyes widened and he stepped back as though struck. "Oh."
"I was just teasing you the way you teased me last night," Harry said. Draco ducked his head and looked away, his hands suddenly fidgety and restless. "I really want to know how your date went, with or without the 'hot' part if you prefer."
"I don't know," Draco strode down the beverage aisle away from Harry and their groceries.
"Now who's uncomfortable?" he muttered.
He caught up to Draco at the end of the row. His face was composed and his attitude was cool. He dropped a bottle of cola into the trolley.
"You don't want to talk about it, I get it," Harry said. "We'll just stick to baby care and keep it professional."
Draco walked silently next to the cart for a few minutes, dropping in an item here and there. Finally he spoke softly, "It was boring. He was perfectly suitable, Pansy knows my type. But I was bored."
"What was wrong with him?" Harry asked.
"He wasn't-" Draco hauled himself up short. "He was just boring." They continued on for two more aisles before he spoke again. "So are you and Weasley-"
"No!" Harry jumped. "No, no. Definitely not."
"I thought maybe, since you're so worried about him," Draco said.
"He's my best mate," Harry said. "Like friend, not like mate mate."
"He doesn't bend that way?"
"Even if he did," Harry shuddered. "That's like incest."
"It surprises me," Draco peeked at him from the corner of his eye. "I always wondered if he was the bent one, the way he sank his claws into you so fast." He lifted his chin and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "No one else even got a chance."
Harry paused in confusion but Draco continued on without a hitch in his stride. He whistled casually and found a free register.
"Come on, then."
Harry trundled the trolley through the cashier lane and paid the substantial bill at the end. They hefted their bags, weighed down by milk and wine and soda, and hobbled back down the alleyway. Once hidden from muggle view Draco released his bags and slashed his wand across the handles to levitate them.
"Back to the Burrow?" Harry asked.
"Wait," Draco seized the bags and reached out to grip Harry's arm. He Disapparated and a squeeze-pop later they were standing in an opulent bedroom that was the size of the Burrow's entire ground floor.
Harry stepped back. "Is this your bedroom?"
"Don't worry, Potter," Draco pulled out a drawer on an oversized chest near the window. "If I'm going to get you into bed it will be by my own merit, not a surprise side-along." He paused and looked up as though startled by his own words. "Kidding, of course."
Harry turned and busied himself with a shelf of knick-knacks so Draco wouldn't see the vivid pink flush in his cheeks.
"Here we go," Draco withdrew a black ball with the number eight on one side and a glossy black window on the other. "My magic eight ball."
Harry stared at him like he was mad. "A muggle toy?"
"Did your ears get splinched? Magic eight ball. Not muggle eight ball."
"That's a muggle toy," Harry insisted. "My cousin had one. It constantly said, 'ask again later' until he he got so frustrated that he shook it full of bubbles. Never worked quite right after that."
"That was a muggle version of a real magical artifact," Draco said. "Have a look."
Harry approached cautiously. He had to crowd in close to Draco to see the words in the little window. He caught a whiff of that spicy, smoky scent again, the one he'd caught at SpellMart. It was certainly coming from him.
"How long does the hex on Ronald Weasley last?" Draco asked.
The black liquid inside the ball churned and revealed white lettering that read, "One month."
"How old is Ronald Weasley now?" Draco asked.
The liquid roiled again. "Ten months."
"What time should he be put to bed?" Draco asked.
"19:00," the ball read.
"Is he ready for solid food?"
"Yes, soft purées and strained vegetables."
"Those are real answers," Harry marveled.
"Of course they are," Draco sniffed haughtily. "Is Harry Potter a prat?"
"Ask again later."
"See?" Harry pointed. "Just like Dudley's."
"That just means I asked a question that can't be answered empirically," Draco said. He looked up, meeting Harry's gaze. They were standing so close. "So I guess I have to concede that you're not a prat, empirically speaking."
Harry gripped the ball, his fingers overlapping Draco's. "is Draco Malfoy a prat?"
The white print bubbled to the surface. "Ask again later."
They were quiet for a moment, both looking at the undulating words, their fingers still touching.
"Do you concede?" Draco asked softly.
Harry was afraid to look up. "I concede," he said.
"Well then," Draco withdrew the ball from Harry's grip. "Let's get back, shall we? I'm sure Weasley is getting hungry by now."
Harry hefted his bags and held Draco's elbow as he Disapparated back to the Burrow. They landed in the yard and both immediately levitated their heavy burdens.
"You didn't have to hold my arm that time," Draco said as they made their way towards the house. "I'm not going to try to escape, not as long as you can go to the Ministry about this."
"Malfoy-"
"The only thing keeping me here is that threat," Draco said pointedly. He held Harry's eyes.
Harry squinted back. There was something there, but it wasn't hostile. He carefully parsed Draco's words and chose his response carefully.
"Then I guess you're stuck with us," he said.
"I'll return the favor someday," Draco said darkly, but his voice lacked venom.