Chapter 1: Thursday 27th May 2005
Chapter Text
Thursday 27th May 2005
"Bloody hell," Draco whined, pushing his bowl of Every Flavour Beans into Harry's lap. "I have to pee again. Pause this Muggle nonsense would you? I've already committed too much time to give up on it now-"
Harry pressed their TV remote, freezing their television on a particularly realistic looking dragon. Someone in the production of the show was definitely a wizard.
"Again?" Harry asked, chasing a green jelly bean around the bowl with his fingers. He hoped it was mint flavoured, rather than the quite vile cabbage one that he'd snagged the week before. "Is everything okay?" he asked belatedly. "You're weeing like a Hippogriff on heat, love. Every five minutes."
Draco gave him a withering look from the doorway. "Merlin, but that's a revolting saying and no, there's nothing wrong with me. A few too many teas with Pansy earlier is all."
Harry looked up at Draco affectionately. "I just care is all," he said, dropping the jelly bean back in the bowl. Best not to risk it. "And you don't need to be coy with me, Malfoy. We've had a baby together, remember? No point being shy with me after that."
Draco's only reply was a dismissive shake of his head. He turned around and sauntered primly out of the room and Harry let his eyes trail over his husband's retreating back.
Draco was as gorgeous as ever, his supple hips clad in low slung, silky pyjama bottoms and an old Harpies tee shirt that skirted over his physique, clinging in all the right places.
Draco didn't believe that his body was as tidy as it'd been before Isadora had been born nine months before but Harry couldn't see any flaws whatsoever. In his opinion, Draco looked more beautiful than he ever had before, the slight, with silvery stretch marks patterning his tummy the only evidence on his body of the daughter that they'd made together. Isa and Draco were the brightest stars in Harry's sky and he still couldn't get over how lucky he was to share his life with them both.
It was only a few minutes before Draco returned and sat down next to Harry, curling in close to his side. Harry flicked the switch on their remote and the action blared back into life on the screen.
Draco had a strange relationship with Muggle technology. He claimed to loathe it, yet often his husband could barely draw his eyes from the screen. He'd confessed to Harry that he struggled to understand sometimes that it wasn't all real and now, as a dragon soared over a ruined city, Draco clutched tight to his hand. Even Harry had to admit that the beast looked a little too close to a Hungarian Horntail to be entirely easy viewing.
The pair of them watched in silence for a moment, focussing on the action on the screen and Harry snaked a comforting arm around Draco's shoulders.
Harry loved these precious moments at the end of their days, when Isa was safely tucked up in her little cot upstairs, her bedroom charmed to keep her cool and comfy and a monitoring spell set to keep her safe.
Photographs of their little girl covered every wall, jostling for space alongside older pictures of their friends and family. The only light in the room came from the late May dusk that lit the sky over their Grimmauld Place gardens and from their wands, set to shine a subtle Lumos over the sitting room. He leant over and pressed a loving kiss into Draco's soft hair.
But, two minutes later, Draco was fidgeting once more.
"Harry," he asked, "shall I get us some of those mini-Pumpkin Pasties that I brought from the Elven bakery on the way home? My tummy is grumbling and some wizard that I'm not going to name ate all the Every Flavour Beans-"
Harry was surprised at Draco's muttered question. His husband didn't usually have such a sweet tooth and Pumpkin Pasties, with their red glacé cherries and their thick ginger icing were normally a source of particular disdain for the blond wizard.
Harry glanced over, shaking his head in lieu of a reply. Harry was full up after the Pasta Alfredo that the three of them had shared for dinner and the large packet of Bertie Botts that they'd split after their daughter had gone to bed. He didn't quite know where Draco was intending to put his extra Pumpkin Pasties either. His husband had eaten a second portion of pasta at their dinner table, declaring it the finest thing that he had ever tasted.
Draco was up and on his feet in moments, stopping only to pick up his wand before diving avidly out of the door. Harry paused the television, listening in bemusement. He could hear Draco diving into their pantry and the rustle of paper packaging before he heard the sound of cupboards opening and closing.
This behaviour wasn't at all typical for his beloved. Draco was normally too lazy to get himself off the settee once they had settled down for the evening so his husband must really be peckish.
Harry signed quietly. All this fussing and flitting about reminded Harry vividly of how Draco had been when he was first pregnant with Isa. The other wizard's appetite had been ferocious then too, and he'd gotten quite possessive over food. The simple threat of pinching chips from Malfoy's plate had been enough to get the other wizard annoyed and threatening all manner of different hexes. Harry had thoroughly enjoyed teasing him whenever he got the chance.
Draco returned from the Grimmauld kitchen after several minutes and roused Harry from his daydreams. He had quite lost the thread of whatever it was that they were supposed to be watching. Draco levitated several bowls in front of him as he walked through the doorway, all of them overflowing with sweet and sugary snacks.
"I decided to get you a couple of Pumpkin Pasties anyway," Draco announced, landing the bowls quietly on their coffee table with a twist of his wand. "I didn't want your great mitts pinching any of mine. I know what you're like Potter," he smirked, slumping back down heavily into his spot beside Harry. "I'm not in the mood to share."
Harry laughed at Draco's barely concealed warning. "You never are," he replied, laughing, and watching as Draco began to devour his Pumpkin Pasty. Harry took a sip of his Butterbeer, feeling his interest in the fantasy world on his television start to vanish. Draco was silent for a second before he leant back into his chair, muffling a small burp with the back of his hand. "Circe," Harry commented. "Slow down love! You practically inhaled that one."
Draco patted his tummy over his tee shirt. "Couldn't help it," he said, finishing his sentence with a yawn. "I'm hungry tonight. Must be the change in temperature I suppose. Heat always plays havoc with my belly." Draco yawned again and placed his empty bowl on the floor. "Be a love and pass me my orange juice would you?"
"What did your last House Elf die of?" Harry smirked. He did as he was told and sat watching as Draco took a long swallow and gulped down the last third of his glass. "You're in an odd mood tonight," he remarked. "Fidgety… Restless. Like you've got a nest of nargles in your belly or something. There's anything that you've forgotten to tell me?"
Draco frowned. "Don't think so," he said, unwrapping a Chocolate Frog and lifting it out the packet between two practised fingers. The sweet treat wriggled a little, threatening to jump away before Draco popped it into his mouth. He chewed elegantly before he continued to speak. "No. Today was just a regular, boring Thursday. Met Pansy and Astoria over at the Green Toadstool baby group… Then I went back to Pan's place for the afternoon, same as usual. Ate cakes. Drank tea. Flooed home about an hour or so before you did."
That sounded like a pleasant day and Harry lent over to give his husband a chaste peck on his cheek. Draco smelt sweet, like the syrupy Pasties and Bertie Botts beans that he'd been eating, combined with the lily scent of their daughter's shampoo. Sometimes Draco shared his bathtub with her, using the time to give his own hair a speedy wash. Harry found the whole idea endearing, especially since Draco had been so prissy about expensive hair products before Isa had been born.
Harry took another swallow of his Pumpkin Juice. "It's normally me raiding the pantry is all," Harry said slowly. "And you seem a bit- Well, you seem a bit busy tonight. A bit antsy. And you ate two plates of pasta less than two hours ago."
"And I told you then, Potter that your Alfredo was scrumptious! I can't help it if I married such a good cook, can I?" Draco pouted. He looked down at the front of his Harpies tee shirt and patted the front before a quizzical, horrified expression washed over his face.
"Oh Merlin. You're not saying that I've gotten fat are you? Because you must know that my metabolism has been absolutely bloody cursed since Isa was born and-"
"Oh shush," Harry said, mildly shocked that Draco had fallen straight into self-recrimination. It was true that his husband had struggled slightly with losing the last couple of pounds that he'd gained during Isadora's pregnancy but that hadn't mattered a single sickle to Harry. Draco had always looked desirable and attractive in Harry's eyes. "I was just concerned, that's all lovely. You know how I get. Always looking for a problem to solve."
"Always such a Saviour," Draco cut in, giving Harry a small, reluctant smile. His grey eyes were still hooded and dark though. Harry knew that he wasn't forgiven quite yet.
"Yeah. Always the Saviour," Harry repeated, pleased to know that he'd been forgiven but unsure as to why Draco had felt the need to knock himself down so quickly. That wasn't like his beloved at all. Normally Draco was upbeat about his post-pregnancy body."You must know that I'd never put you down, Draco," he said, stoking a careful finger over his husband's jaw. "You look amazing and you always have done. I wasn't criticising, promise. If you're hungry then eat, please!"
Draco finished his orange juice. He carefully placed the glass on a coaster before he spoke again.
"I'm sorry," Draco said eventually, the clouds finally lifting from his expression. "I know I've been a bit off tonight, Potter. I've just not felt much like myself the last few days. I feel perfectly bloody bloated yet I'm constantly thinking about what to eat next." His cheeks pinked. "Pans told me that I was in a curious mood this afternoon too," Draco admitted. "The pair of us were looking at photographs of Isa and Maeve when they were first born… I have to confess that I actually got a bit tearful. I don't know what came over me. That's the thing, Harry. You don't notice your child changing when you're beside them everyday."
Harry nodded, bewildered at his husband's admission. Draco loved Isadora more than anything else on the earth but he wasn't usually a wizard to wear his emotions on his sleeve in that way. He stroked a stray tuft of hair across Draco's forehead.
"No, you don't," Harry agreed, "and I miss our tiny newborn too… Sometimes I wonder who that big girl is, so close to taking her first steps and saying her first word. It hardly feels like any time has passed since the day she was born."
Draco lapsed into silence after that and Harry clicked the play button. The dragon on the screen swooped and dived, but Harry found himself unable to follow the plot. All of his attention was focussed on his beloved, sat huddled beside him.
Draco had cuddled his body in close to Harry's own and the wizard radiated a pleasing warmth. For the first time that evening Draco seemed calm, his eyes finally trained on the screen.
His husband's nervous energy seemed finally to have drained away and Harry felt his eyes start to droop. It had been a long and very difficult few weeks in the Auror Department but Harry could feel the threads in his current case beginning to unknot.
The two wizards flinched when a small, muffled mewling noise suddenly broke through the silence. It was their monitoring spell, warning them both that Isadora had awoken. Harry paused their show once more. Draco sat bolt upright, poised to run upstairs if his daughter needed him, but no further cries followed. It seemed like Isa was simply having a bad dream.
"I don't think she's really awake," Harry said, more to reassure himself than anything else. "She went to bed with a full tummy. She shouldn't be hungry yet."
Draco snorted. "Famous last words, Potter! You've bloody jinxed us now. She'll be up for the rest of the night." He swirled his wand, resetting the monitoring spell but there weren't any further sounds. "Let's just watch the end of this show and get to bed," Draco muttered. "If she's going to be finicky all night then I need to get some rest."
The relaxed calm between the two wizards was broken after that. Harry restarted the television but Draco was inattentive and restless, rolling his wand between his fingers and looking distractedly towards the door with every few minutes that passed.
Harry knew his husband's tells well enough to know that he was fretting. Draco wanted to go upstairs, check on their daughter and then slide in between their bedsheets. He picked up the remote and pressed pause once again. "Go on," Harry urged. "Go and check on Isa if it'll make you feel better… Don't forget your silencing charm. You don't want to wake the little pixie if you can help it."
Draco yawned and stood up. "I'm on it," he said, giving Harry a half-smile and pushing his wand into his pocket. "I might get into bed afterwards," Draco paused in the doorway and yawned loudly. "If you don't mind too terribly. Don't be long though, Potter. You know I can't abide that gigantic bed of ours without you to cuddle up with."
Harry looked at his husband's retreating form and half-wondered whether it was even worth watching the end of the show. He'd lost interest in most of the plot and the last ten minutes had been a mystery to him. Harry listened for a few more minutes, but their monitoring charm was silent.
Isadora was fast asleep and there was little doubt that Draco wrapped up in their summer quilt and slumbering too.
His husband had been fast asleep before his head had even hit the pillow in recent weeks and not even their daughter's noisy cries had been enough to wake him.
Harry watched the television with unseeing eyes.
Now that he really thought about it, Draco's behaviour had been a little out of character for a while now. Draco was so tired so much of the time. Then there was the incessant need to wee, the raw emotionality and the frankly mammoth appetite, all of which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was irritable about his appearance too and that wasn't like Draco at all. It was all very odd.
Harry yawned. He was weary too. The DMLE had been taking a lot of his time and energy and suddenly the settee felt a little too big without Draco's presence beside him.
He cast a Tempus and Harry was astonished to find that it was long past eleven. Merlin. Where had their evening gotten to?
He yawed once more and switched off the television. He'd finish the show tomorrow if he remembered.
With a twirl of his wand, Harry scooped up all the plates, bowls and bottles and banished them to the kitchen. He decided to charm them clean before he left for work the following day. It wasn't fair to leave them for Draco to deal with.
Draco's behaviour was curious. There was something familiar about his beloved but, for the life of him, Harry couldn't imagine when he'd seen it before. He Nox'ed the downstairs lights and began to climb up the staircase to bed, kicking a few of Isadora's toy animals out of the way as he went.
Harry decided to push his worries to the back of his mind. Draco's twenty-fifth birthday was in just over a week.
The blond wizard was probably feeling peevish about reaching his quarter-century.
~*~*~