Author's Note: Hi guys, thank you thank you thank you a billion times for reviewing and sticking around! We're back to Harry's POV.

Chapter 7

It was Malfoy's turn to change Rebecca-doll's diaper. So why was Harry always stuck with the job?

"Seriously? But you just—aw, no." Harry picked up the doll and held her away from him, wrinkling his nose. She was a responsive little thing, that was for certain. Sure enough, the baby began wailing and her cries bounced off the walls of their small dorm room. Damn it.

"Really, Potter?" Malfoy's voice echoed from down the hallway. The git popped his head into the room and grinned. "Still making small children cry?"

Harry made a face at him. "Isn't that your job, Malfoy? And I reckon this is, too." He shoved the doll into Malfoy's arms as the boy walked in. "Honestly, when was the last time you changed her nappies? I'd really like to see you try."

Malfoy's nose wrinkled daintily as he held the doll at arm's length, looking as if he were afraid to hold her, let alone change her diaper. This only added to Harry's careful Malfoy-observation, of which he'd discovered rather early on, that the Slytherin obviously did not have the magic touch when it came to small children. It had been slightly comical at first, but now it was just a burden. Harry couldn't be expected to do all of the work!

"What did I do to deserve this?" Malfoy muttered, struggling with the diaper's clasp. All right, it was still kind of comical to watch. Plus, he was doing it completely wrong.

It was Harry's turn to grin. "The list goes on forever."

Malfoy glared at him. "Shut the hell up, Potter."

Harry gasped in mock horror and covered the doll's tiny ears. "Language, Malfoy!" he scolded.

The blond just rolled his eyes. "I'll say whatever the fuck I want to say. How do you get this bloody thing off anyway?"

Harry just laughed. Earlier that evening, everyone had crowded around them wanting to see the doll. It was odd; Harry had expected his classmates to scoff at the idea of a fake baby, but a lot of people had acted as if she were real, congratulating them and asking to hold her. Harry found the whole thing strangely endearing, but he knew that Malfoy had thought that it was absurd judging by the faint expression on his face. The Slytherin had looked especially irked when Ron had laughed and slapped a hand on Harry's shoulder in congratulations and Hermione had held Rebecca, exclaiming that they were "so lucky, she wished she could be the mother!"—of course, Malfoy's face had twisted even more in disgust at that. Harry shook his head. Girls were always attracted to cute things; it was a fact of life. Malfoy had a thing or two to learn.

Harry let Malfoy struggle for a few more minutes before taking the doll (Malfoy had started to scream at the thing) and changing her himself—the Slytherin obviously hadn't figured out the clasp properly and it was stuck to the doll's leg. After another initial fuss, Malfoy left Harry's side to fix the makeshift cradle that Harry had made out of one of his dresser drawers for Rebecca... Well, at least he was doing something. Harry finished the job and brought Rebecca over to the drawer, tucking her inside, and the doll cooed with contentment. He couldn't help but smile and run his hand softly over her hair... the strands were thin and fine; blond, like Malfoy's. Harry had to give credit to the magical quality of that cabinet—the doll had "inherited" features from both boys, the blond hair and slimness from Malfoy and the green eyes and olive skin from Harry. Harry himself thought it was quite a pleasant combination.

When he looked up from the cradle, he found Malfoy smirking at him. "What?" he asked.

Malfoy shook his head, still smirking. "You're just so goddamned Gryffindor. It's sickening." He laughed, not unkindly.

Harry smiled a little himself. "Yeah, well. I am a Gryffindor," he replied lamely, eyes wandering back over to the now sleeping doll. He had no idea how it had happened; but he'd already become rather fond of Rebecca. Harry had always wanted to have children. Nott came into the room then, nodding briefly at Malfoy and walking over towards where Harry was standing over the doll.

"What are you staring at?" Nott asked, peering into the cradle. "Wow! She looks just like you two."

Blaise strode in as well, closing the door behind him. "Harry, I've got this—hey!" He looked into the drawer too and smiled down at the doll. "Look who has her own bed now. That's so cool."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, Malfoy's one contribution so far," he quipped, ignoring Malfoy's slight protests in the background. "By the way, we've named her too. It's Rebecca." He didn't try to keep the hint of protective pride from his voice.

Blaise's eyes flickered over to Malfoy for a split second, but before Harry could question it Blaise had turned back to him and smiled hugely. "That's great," he said. "Well... It's getting late, actually. Perhaps we should discuss more tomorrow, hm?" Without waiting for a response, the boy climbed into his bed and shut the curtains.

The rest of them mumbled somewhat confused replies and Harry shrugged, jumping into bed and placing his glasses carefully on the bed stand. After he was properly settled, he tugged his shirt over his head—it was a habit of his to do this in Gryffindor Tower, where it sometimes got very warm at night... and even though the dungeons were much cooler, Harry was used to his ritual by now. He didn't feel the need to change it. Besides, it wasn't like anybody cared about what he did around here; that was the nice thing about Slytherin. There were no concerned inquiries, no anxious 'what are you's or 'why are you's. That was partially the reason why he was beginning to not mind the dungeons so much.

As Harry lay back against his pillow in the now-darkness, he started to think about how strange it was that he did feel so comfortable here. He was sure that the Slytherins would try to sneak a prank on him at least once, despite their little pact on the first night, but all of the boys—even Malfoy, surprisingly—had seemed to stay true to their word. Harry had to give them a bit of credit for that. No doubt if it had been the other way around, with one of the Slytherins in Gryffindor territory, Harry and his friends would not be able to resist pulling a tiny joke. Perhaps the old whipped-cream-in-hand-and-tickle-with-quill one. That was Neville's favourite.

But then, the Slytherins weren't so bad to hang around with—Blaise Zabini, especially. Harry wouldn't have thought it before, but the boy was actually fantastic company, always ready to chat or do homework after dinner in the common room every night. It was a nice routine to look forward to, and Harry found it quite easy to just sit back and have a good laugh with him. Of course, Harry missed his friends in Gryffindor and the ease of laughter and fun he had with them, but at least Blaise provided a little of that for him here—and they were on first name basis now, which was monumental progress. Plus, Nott was accommodating enough and sometimes he even smiled at Harry.

And Malfoy… well, Malfoy was just Malfoy. The blond wasn't particularly friendly, but he wasn't horribly rude either—it was a huge improvement from having their wands at each other's throats, anyhow. Of course, he still taunted Harry, although his jabs seemed mostly good-natured for the most part, and Harry hadn't seen Malfoy smile so much in like… well, ever, really. Harry had to admit that it could be a really lovely smile if Malfoy did it more often. It was also sort of refreshing to know that Malfoy was indeed a human being. Who knew?

A soft noise near the foot of his bed broke through Harry's thoughts and he quickly tensed up in his covers. Hadn't everybody gone to sleep by now? Suddenly, his curtains were drawn back and a lithe figure hopped onto his bed, whipping the curtains back in place after him. "Wha—?" Harry sat up quickly, straining his eyes to see whom his intruder was. What the fuck? Had he been wrong about the no-prank policy? Because if so, this wasn't a very effective way of doing it. And he'd have to have a stern talk with the others in the morning.

"Calm down, it's just me." Blaise's voice cut through the heavy darkness and Harry let the tension fall from his shoulders. The bed curtains shook a little as Blaise cast a few spells on them, including a Silencing charm.

"Er… what are you doing here?" Harry asked calmly, as if it were normal for Blaise to be sitting here with him in the middle of the night. Honestly, it was weirding him out a little. Was this a Slytherin thing or something? Would Harry have to worry about Malfoy crawling into his bed in the middle of the night? Harry almost snorted at the prospect.

"Sorry," Blaise muttered, and then he turned around, looking a little devious. "I just didn't want Draco to overhear us."

"Why would he want to?"

Blaise checked his spell work quickly and then leaned in, as if to whisper a juicy secret. "Who chose the name Rebecca?" he inquired, searching Harry's face as if he would find the answer there. And he probably could, if he tried hard enough. Harry wasn't an enigma.

Harry frowned. "Malfoy did, I just went with it," he admitted. "Why, is there something the matter with it?"

"No, it's just..." Blaise's expression was calculating. "Well..."

"It's just what?" Harry asked dumbly.

Blaise held out his pinky. "Promise not to tell Draco? He'd kill me if he knew I told you."

Harry grinned and hooked his pinky onto Blaise's. Possibly incriminating information on Malfoy, how could he resist? "I promise," he murmured.

Blaise smiled and began. "When Draco was nine, his mother had been pregnant with another child." He hesitated and let Harry react. "Completely mental, right? I know. Anyways, they were rather joyous when they heard the news, and even more so when they discovered that it was going to be a girl. Draco had been ecstatic for his new sister and he and Lucius had arranged a party for Narcissa in congratulations... yeah, things used to be different for the Malfoy family then."

He paused, and Harry tried to imagine a young Malfoy bouncing off the walls for a potential sister, but to no avail. Where was Blaise going with this story?

"Of course, you know what happened to them," Blaise said, looking grim now. "Lucius was starting to get back into the swing of politics and... well, you know. Everything changed. Soon after the announcement, the family discovered that they simply couldn't handle having another child at that point, especially when Lucius's career was so tender. So..." Blaise pursed his lips and winced. "Narcissa was forced to take care of the problem. I think... I think that's when their family started to, well, deteriorate. And poor Draco was rather devastated at his first loss of a family member. It had been a rather traumatic event for him, but he's always remained strong. He once told me that he would name his own firstborn daughter after his lost sister, because the name deserved to have its place in the Malfoy family..."

Harry cut in. "His sister's name was supposed to be Rebecca," he said quietly, realising it out loud.

Blaise stopped speaking and nodded. Harry bit his lip. Oh... gods. How terrible. He felt a twist of empathy towards Narcissa Malfoy. Harry couldn't even imagine what kind of hell she'd been through. And for such a vile man! Harry had never hated Lucius more. But... why had Malfoy named the baby doll after his unborn sister? She wasn't even real and this was a class assignment—with Harry, of all people. Had Malfoy meant to do it? Harry remembered the way that Malfoy had just blurted it out, looking shocked at himself for a moment... but still, he hadn't taken it back. Harry suddenly felt very touched by this. Evidently, Malfoy cared a lot more than he was letting on.

Blaise seemed to think the same thing. "You know, he's not a complete bastard," he said quietly, in the dark. "He's capable of emotion, he's just... rather good at hiding it. Honestly, I think he hates this project so much because he doesn't realise that it's what he always wanted—a sense of family, you know? Like it or not, Harry, you're the closest thing he's got now. You and that doll."

Harry smiled a little, a small rush of familiarity—and strangely, brotherhood—going through him for Malfoy at this point. Maybe he'd been a bit too judgmental of him. Harry hadn't been the only one with a fucked up childhood... He hadn't even realised that Malfoy could possibly be feeling the same way that Harry sometimes did. "Yeah, I suppose it makes sense," he remarked slowly.

"Yeah," Blaise replied. "Well, I just wanted to let you know... and I hope you think about what I said. Goodnight, Harry." He shot Harry a quick smile before taking the spells off the curtains, climbing from the bed and disappearing into the darkness.

"Thanks, Blaise," Harry called out, although he wasn't sure that the boy had heard him.

~x~

The next day Harry found himself dozing off in Potions as Slughorn dictated some lecture that he really should have been paying attention to—he just couldn't keep his eyes open. Even his friends had noticed; Hermione kept giving him stern looks and Ron poked his side periodically to wake him so that Slughorn wouldn't get suspicious of Harry's slack figure (not that he would have pointed it out, anyways)... But even the sternest of looks and hardest of pokes could not fully wake Harry now. Gods, what a rough morning. He slumped down further. It wasn't fair.

Just after the talk with Blaise the night before, Rebecca-doll had found it a fitting time to bust out in a horrible tantrum, wailing so loudly that she threatened to wake the entire castle—let alone the occupants of the dorm. All of the boys had tried in vain to shush the baby, sitting cross-legged on Harry's bed and taking turns holding her in futile attempts to placate her until dawn came. At 4 AM (Harry privately referred to this particular time as The Dark Hour), Nott had even gone to such measures as to sing her a lullaby, and completely off-key, one might add... Long story short: none of them had gotten a wink of sleep, they all wanted to kill one another as well as the doll, and now Harry was feeling particularly testy. And fucking exhausted. If Harry wasn't going to get any sleep in his dorm, he might as well find a bit of relief now...

But just as he was about to slip into the comfortable silence of his mind once again, the door creaked open and Malfoy's blond head popped in, obviously in attempt to be discreet. And obviously failing. Harry groaned in annoyance. What now? Malfoy had a free period and was supposed to be taking care of Rebecca at the moment—could he really not handle being alone with the doll for just an hour?

"Psst. Psst! Potter!" Malfoy hissed, glancing at Slughorn, who by some miracle hadn't appeared to notice the disturbance. Harry rolled his eyes.

"What the hell, Malfoy? What are you doing?" he whispered back, and a few people around him turned to listen to the conversation with the interest of bored pupils. Harry really wished that they had something better to do. "And where's Rebecca?"

"She's... well... I need you! She's going mental—I don't know what the fuck is going on." Malfoy supported this by biting his lip desperately and glaring at Harry as if that were his fault. "What was that thing you did yesterday? The thing with your hand?"

Harry glared back. "That thing is called holding her, Malfoy, you should try it sometime," he snapped. "Now go away. As you can clearly see, I am in the middle of class." Just as he said that, a looming shadow appeared over his desk. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced up meekly. "Oh... Hello... Professor."

"Harry, dear boy." Slughorn looked endeared rather than angry. "I don't want to have to tell you to pay attention, I know that you are a good stu—" the Professor turned his head a little, now having finally noticed Malfoy, who was still frozen in the door with a chagrined expression on his face. "Oh! Mr. Malfoy, can I help you?"

"Er… Hello Sir," Malfoy said politely. "Would you mind sending Potter out here, he's uh, needed by the Headmaster." Malfoy was a smooth liar; his lies only to be noticed by those who knew that he was a complete mental git, like Harry. "It's urgent. Come on." Malfoy looked annoyed for a moment, and then panicked, and something in his eyes became a bit desperate. Harry just stared at him incredulously. What the fuck was he doing out there?

"Sir, Malfoy just wants Harry outside so they can go snog in secret," a voice piped up. Harry looked around, but the owner refused to identify themselves. There were quiet snickers going throughout the room now.

"Yeah Harry," another voice exclaimed. "Go show Malfoy 'that thing you did with your hand yesterday'!"

"I bet Malfoy's got baby-daddy issues!"

The whole class was bursting into full-blown laughter at this point. Both Harry and Malfoy looked around to glare at the offender, but seeing as everybody was giggling, the task was impossible. Harry's face burned.

"Mr. Malfoy, is that true?" Slughorn was staring.

Malfoy had become visibly pinker and mumbled in embarrassment.

"What was that?"

Malfoy spoke up a bit louder. "It was not my intention to steal Potter away to snog, secretly or otherwise," he protested, with slight horror.

Slughorn looked properly abashed. "My, my, that was not my inquiry at all," he insisted. "Let me make this clearer: you need help with a... baby?"

"Oh," Malfoy muttered. "Yes, mine and Potter's baby. I mean, it's not our baby. Well, actually it is, but it's not like it came out of one of us because I don't think that is even possible, and you know, it's not a real baby, but it is ours, and... For Merlin's sake, Potter! Get out here!"

"Er," Harry said helpfully.

Slughorn seemed to have regained his control again, now appearing to be faintly amused. "Ah, I see, Mr. Malfoy. Somewhat." He gestured. "Well, don't be shy, come in and bring it here with you. I don't want Harry out of class if he doesn't need to be."

Malfoy hesitated for a moment before fully stepping into the classroom with Rebecca in his arms. Harry breathed a sigh of relief—but then he noticed that there was a sock stuffed in her delicate mouth. A sock! "What the hell, Malfoy!" Harry jumped up and grabbed the baby out of Malfoy's grasp, gaping at him as if he'd just personally killed his owl right in front of him. "You're suffocating her!"

The doll's shouts immediately filled the room as Harry took the sock out and Malfoy—not to mention the rest of the class—grimaced at the noise. "She's a fucking doll, Potter," Malfoy groaned. "Besides, she wouldn't shut up! I didn't see any other option."

"You thought that your only option was to shove… a sock… down her throat?" Harry tried to keep his voice level as he forced the words out. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Malfoy puffed up defensively. "Nothing is wrong with me!" he shouted. "I would ask the same of you but I already know that somebody didn't get his fucking eight hours last night. Hint: it wasn't either one of us! And besides, I wouldn't go around blaming it all on me if I were you, since you were the one who came up with the brilliant idea to have her sleep in our bloody dresser in the first place. So you know what? Fuck you!"

"Language!" Slughorn exclaimed belatedly, but nobody listened.

What an arse. What a complete arse. Malfoy was so going to get it when they got back to the privacy of the dorms, where Harry could use a Silencing charm and a good Stinging hex at his own will. Fucking Malfoy though! He had no right to accuse Harry of being the problem, especially when Malfoy had done nothing but aggravate the doll from the very beginning! Harry refused to answer Malfoy now, cradling the baby doll protectively and shooting icy glares at Malfoy from time to time. After a while, Malfoy sighed.

"Look, I'm pants at childcare, okay? I don't know what to do." The Slytherin seemed to give up his defiant glower, now running his hand through his hair tiredly. "That's why I'm asking. You think that I would have bothered to come here otherwise? It's not as if I'm particularly fond of begging for your attention, Potter, don't flatter yourself. Besides, she kept us up all night and my patience is running thin."

Harry sighed and cuddled the doll some more, whispering softly and caressing her tiny cheek with his thumb. She was still crying. "S'okay, Becca," he murmured. "It's alright, shh, I've got you." He kissed the blonde curls around her little face and pushed them back. In an instant, he was acutely aware of the majority of the girls in the room watching him with unadulterated adoration and a wave of embarrassment passed through his chest. He silently passed the now quieting baby back over to Malfoy, who was looking at him with a mixed expression. Harry figured that it was Malfoy's way of appearing impressed.

"Why couldn't you have done that last night, Potter?" Malfoy asked, looking down at the bundle in his arms and tentatively bringing a hand to Rebecca's forehead, sweeping more hair away from her eyes. He smiled at the pleased little coos the doll was starting to make.

"Done it last night..." Seamus snickered. Both Harry and Malfoy sent him stern warning looks (Malfoy's probably a tad more stern than Harry's), and Seamus didn't say another word. He was still grinning, though.

Harry looked back to Malfoy holding the doll and shook his head, remembering Blaise's story about Malfoy's almost-sister. How wonderful it must be for Malfoy to feel something like that again—albeit in the form of a class assignment baby doll, but still. Despite his current annoyance with Malfoy, Harry also felt a burst of respect for him, for all that he'd gone through and all that he'd buried deep within him. Harry touched Malfoy's arm cautiously and gave him a reassuring smile when he looked over. He was surprised when Malfoy smiled back at him, and they both looked down at their little baby with newfound tenderness. It was rather surreal to be standing here, cradling a baby doll as if it were real, a doll that he shared with Draco Malfoy. But it was strangely pleasant at the same time. Because even though Rebecca was a doll and this was a project, Harry felt as if he had drawn himself infinitely closer to Malfoy than he ever dared to before.