Harry selected Frozen, a popular children's animation. It was known to pacify his daughter. However, the playful musical ensnared all three of them, and a hush settled over the apartment, relaxing them into a lumpy assortment of entwined legs and cushions as they piled on the sofa. They fell asleep.

Harry awoke to singing. It was dark outside and the television emitted an ice-blue glow, flickering along the walls. He heard his daughter's wet gibberish as she sang along. And a woman's melodic voice. His eyes were still struggling to focus when he realized the woman was repeating Iece's name. And their sounds were moving about the room, not just inside the television's volume.

He very clearly heard the woman say, "You can fly like me."

His eyes popped open. A woman, an animated, full-sized version of Elsa, from Frozen, stood in front of the flat screen. He saw through her, but somehow she was solid enough. Her skin lit with a projection-like quality, and her face appeared more cartoonish than artificial. Her white hair moved like a solid piece of plastic, though it emitted its own light. Her clothing were generic blocks of swirls without all the details from the movie. He really wanted to believe that he was dreaming, but as he watched her spectacle dance and twirl in front of the television, he had to admit that this wasn't his dream at all. It was Iece's.

His daughter imitated everything the elegant animation did, or tried to. As Elsa spun, singing and encouraging the baby along after her, Iece leapt. Her chunky bare feet never really left the ground, but the joy on her face, said she didn't know the difference. She was still in the undershirt, which had come unpinned and slid so low on her torso, that it bared her toddler shoulder. The amulet Harry had given her, dangled on a string. The little Cherio-formation appeared to give off an aura. He couldn't be sure, everything in the room reflected Elsa's light at the moment. When Iece fell, she simply laughed and picked herself back up.

His sense of alarm, said do something. But his sense of magic, said be careful, don't blink or you'll miss something special. He had no idea what was going on, and prodded Draco to wake up and witness it with him. He kicked a little too hard.

"Ouch! What?"

Harry shushed him and pointed with his nod.

Elsa, floating three feet off the floor, spoke for herself. Her presence stunned and entranced them both as the scene unfolded in front of their blurry eyes. Draco sat up, bristling and reaching for his wand without looking from the sight. Harry stopped him, holding it to the sofa with his hand.

"Wait," he whispered.

"What's happening? What is this?"

He leaned forward, trying not to startle the baby. "I think… it's her magic."

He could almost hear Draco utter a hollow denial, and gripped his leg to keep him seated. "Wait."

"She needs the tent."

"Wait."

He couldn't explain it. This wasn't like the last time, at the hospital. There were no electrical surges, that were signs of magic conflicting with muggle technology. No explosions. The apartment seemed fine, except for the animation dancing around. He wanted to stand and interact with it, to see if the illusion would burst like a bubble, but he suspected he'd only distract Iece out of her reverie. If this really was her doing, he felt obligated to get to know what she could do. Was this her, or as it arising out of unwanted side effects?

Draco had a better idea. "Iece, that's enough. Tell Elsa good-night and you can play with her another time."

His voice held the faintest tremble and Harry knew what he was thinking. What if her whims had no control over her creations? If she didn't want this thing to leave, then would it?

They both tensed as Iece reached for Elsa's outstretched arms and giggle at them over her shoulder. "Fwy like Esha!"

She jumped, but the animation stayed out of her reach. It was a game. The boys could see that she was happy to chase Elsa through their dance, whether she could ever catch up or not. The fairy-like queen, was supposed to stay in the air. What made her unreachable, was also what made her magical. Harry understood, through his baby's sprawling laughter, that she didn't have to know anything about magic or reality, to propel the power of her imagination. She responded to loveliness, fun, and kindness, and that's all her subconscious needed to shape her world any way that was possible. She was too young to know what was and wasn't possible. Just as, for ever word a baby learns to speak, there's hundreds they've been exposed to, laying untested in the treasury of their memories, so too, she had volumes of magical references, displayed by her dads, all creating an instinctual assumption that there was no reason why Elsa couldn't be in the room playing with her.

But it was too big a leap, too soon. It made them uneasy.

Harry tried to get her attention. "That's enough, sweetie. Put her away, and we'll get ice cream."

"Iskween! Esha cannhave iskweem wit me." A big jump left her picking herself up again. When she looked up, Elsa held a huge lime-green ice cream cone in her hand and licked it.

Harry glanced at Draco, who looked ill. His glare accused Harry of making things worse. He snatched his wand. "Nicee, it's wonderful that you can do tricks, but it's bedtime. I mean it. If you don't put her away right now, you can never have ice cream ever again."

Suddenly, the gleeful smile that accompanied her leaps, melted into a frown. Then a pout. With each droop in her devastated face, Elsa became clearer and clearer. On the television screen, she had never left. The movie had gone on without its audience, and resembled nothing of the sweeping magic that lay outside of it. Olaf's antics unfolded as Anna and Hans ran from an apparently grumpy snow man.

Elsa faded completely and Iece's tiny round shoulders hunched forward as she began to cry at having to choose between her new friend and never having ice cream again. Her sobs were loud and choking.

Worrisome guilt knitted Draco's brow, but he held firm. "You're never to do that without asking us first."

Now that the animation was gone, Harry felt his arms shaking. It was more from anticipating some horrific shock, than from anything real. He thought they were going to have to fight something lurking in her magic, and realized that Draco was speaking to her from that place of panic and fear as well. To her, she had just been playing with the most magical doll on Earth. They shouldn't punish her just because their nerves were shot.

He went to her, lifting her out of the ball she had drawn into. "Heyyy sweetie, did you do that all by yourself? That was beautiful, I'm so proud of you."

When he lifted her chin, tears and mucus flowed freely. He used his shirt to wipe it away. "Don't cry, he didn't mean to yell. He's not mad, we just don't want you making something that you're too young to handle."

She began to catch her breath, but remained pretty vocal and heartbroken. Her siren of mournful cries gradually lightened to something that sounded more like hiccups and less life-threatening.

"Draco's right, you must never do that without us. Your magic is good, but we have to be very careful and teach you lots of things. I guess the first thing we have to work on, is teaching you not to do that around anyone but us."

He looked at Draco as he said this. His expression was more like, how the hell are we going to do that, I don't know.

Draco's wand still trembled, ready for a fight. Evidently, he hadn't expected it to be that easy to stop the animation. The shock of it, still felt like another hidden horcrux, having sprung on them just when their lives got quiet. It brought back that old feeling of constant fleeing and looking over their shoulders for danger.

As Harry wiped her eyes, he noticed that they were grey, but saw the irises shift and darken from her pupil outwards. In seconds, they went back to their virtual black.

Something bitter pooled into his stomach, but he brushed hair out of her eyes and smiled. "Your magic is good. We'll teach you."

Calmer, her cries had turned to sniffles and she turned huge dark eyes up to him, pleading, "Uhwanna fwy."

He understood it, and was delighted. "You want to fly? That can be arranged one day." He looked to Draco for support.

"Elsa doesn't fly," Draco snapped.

He hugged Iece to him. "Well she does now."

He gave her a squeeze that crushed her folded arms between them, then drew back. "Can you show me how Elsa flies?"

He raised her arms for her, and stood, fully committed to take up the dance where Elsa left off.

"You can fly with daddy, come on. Show me."

The unhappy line of her mouth, wobbled as she looked up at him. "You fwy?"

"Yes. You're not old enough to use magic like that, but daddy is." He commanded one of the spare wands that Jipsy kept for him, to find him. The one he'd used on the pool, raced across the room. Catching it, he told her. "Show me how you fly."

She didn't appear to trust him until a mist came from his wand that looked as much like the animation as he could get it. His version of Elsa, sprouted on vapor and romantic notions of what a vision she should be. He only vaguely remembered some details of her clothing, but knew that she had gorgeous white hair, same as Iece, and exaggerated that quality until her hair and gown unfurled like a giant flower, spraying the space above Iece's head with white-diamond sparks, as fine as powder. The baby's mouth hung open and her pupils dilated. Her tiny hands lifted to clap, but could only manage to grasp themselves tightly. A bit of drool escaped her wondrous expression.

Harry laughed, understanding that this must be where girls' appreciation for jewelry and sparkly things come from. The magic of dolls and glitter. They couldn't escape the allure of magic, even in superficial forms. It always hearkened to a deeper place inside of them, if they let it.

Seeing that his daughter was entranced, he made the animation float around her and imbued it with his best intention to see her sway and entice Iece to follow her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco objected. "If you do it, she's going to think it's perfectly fine."

"She did that without a wand. She wanted what she wanted and nothing stood in her way. We can't stop her from using magic. All we can do is give her some rules and guidelines to keep her safe. She shouldn't have to tie one arm behind her back just because the world isn't ready to see it. Or believes that people can only have two, and anything different is wrong. If I can get her to trust me, she can have this amazing doll and her ice cream too."

Now she danced with Elsa again. Her undershirt sagged down around her feet, tripping her, but inducing a resurgence of laughter that had all of her tiny square teeth showing. Each time she jumped, only one foot actually left the ground. Her balance was too unstable, and Harry wished for all the world that he could give her the flying experience that she wanted. He could lift her magically, but wasn't sure he could manage the animation and keep her buoyant at the same time. He began plotting a way to take her on a broom ride in secret, away from prying eyes. If he could get Draco out the door early tomorrow, they could try it. The only concerning thought was what if her magic reacted badly again?

His Elsa wavered as he tripped over these thoughts. He was only momentarily distracted and looked down to notice that Iece's feet were no longer touching the floor. Her pink toes drifted freely across the carpet. First and inch, then two, until she was rising.

He turned. Draco held his wand aloft, focusing on giving Iece a smooth lift while spinning her slowly at the same time. Harry could see his clear concern with not making her vomit as she found herself airborne and gasping. They both watched and waited for the moment when it might be too much for her. She rose gently, arms spread as she blinked and tried to understand what was happening.

"You're flying," Harry told her. "Look, you're flying!"

Draco managed to get the undershirt back up on her, and Harry abandoned Elsa for a moment, in favor of dashing a transformative wave over her and turning the shirt into something that resembled a simple dress. He was worried about the use of magic directly upon her, but couldn't say no to this tiny indiscretion, especially when she was so thrilled by it all. He could've done a better job, had he not been trying to hold Elsa together. Iece was just happy to be in the air. She started waving her arms and legs and trying to do everything Elsa was doing. They got her high enough that they both had to look up at her as they let her dance. Harry slowed Elsa's form and Draco carried Iece closer to her. As the boys found their rhythm, they joined the two floating bodies in a sporadic waltz, the clumsiest either had ever seen, as Elsa and Iece swirled on a spiral of soft magic together.

The moment expanded for each of them, becoming something unexplainable to future and past selves. It broke down psychological barriers that were built before. In that sphere of trust, the necklace of the amulet radiated signals that Harry could only interpret as love. His parent's love, making all of these risks okay. The look on her face, and Draco by his side, helping with this, all told him that he was given this monumental path for a reason. His life wasn't a mistake, no matter what had happened. He was supposed to come out of it all, with her. He was supposed to be there for her and give her a great life. He and Draco had once seriously wanted to kill each other. Now they were the best team he could ever hope for. He'd done it. This was one of those life events that confirmed his arrival to a new stage in his awareness. A new life. As if he had died another death without looking, and was somehow restored to a new game level. Reset by his daughter's happiness. Maybe Thella was right. Maybe they were finally reaching levels of love that could activate that amulet and make it useful. Maybe he hadn't been able to generate that much love by himself. But with these two, nothing was impossible.

They played that way until their arms got tired. By then, Elsa had led Iece all through the apartment, from room to room on a chase. Draco was so tired, he practically hosed her down in the shower, threw pajamas on her, and tossed her into bed. Harry waited on the sofa for him, with a glass of wine. Draco had just taken it from him when Jipsy's pop startled them.

She showed up wearing a bright red feather boa and lipstick. Draco swayed, not at all ready for that sight. Harry pulled him down beside him, by his shirttail.

It wasn't just the lipstick that threw them off. Jipsy grinned like a maniac and carried an arm full of drawings, just as Harry had asked. Her teeth were not frighteningly as jagged as a goblin's, but they were multitudinous and overly exposed as she let her designs fall into Harry's lap. What's more, she hadn't come alone. Someone or something, struggled in a sack behind her. The sack was connected to her by a rope around her waist. Harry had two guesses.

"Jipsy is all finished with Grimauld Place. Just like Harry wants. It's now fit for Draco."

"What?" Draco frowned.

"Um, it's supposed to be a surprise." Harry stared at the moving sack. "Is that?"

"Kreacher is not permitted to wreck Jipsy's changes. I had to restrain him in the Sack of Imprisonment. Only until you approve of the changes."

Harry squinted, as if his glasses were to blame for his confusion. "Sack of Imprisonment?"

"Yes, Sir! He can't use magic against me as long as he's in there. Jipsy's had about all she'll stand of his nonsense. All my efforts were destroyed five times before I warned him what you said about being in charge. He refused to return with me, to hear you say it yourself. Just kept involving himself in my cleaning and rearranging. Now he knows better."

Draco smirked at him, "What have you done?"

Harry rubbed his face, regretting such a spontaneous lie. "I was hoping you two could work together, not compete. If we stay there, you'll be living together." One of the pages caught his attention. He picked it up.

Jipsy beamed. "They was no reasoning with him, Sir. He tried to hex me. Dangerous hexes too. And after I'd already made it clear that we was to work together."

"Hang on, what am I looking at?"

"Jipsy's architectural drawings, Sir. She was especially professional before changing one little thing."

"In crayon?"

She nodded. "What better way to keep a secret?"

Draco sipped his wine. "What, from me? I'm right here, guys."

"Oh, but can you see the changes? Crayons only conceal the layers beneath."

Honestly, Harry couldn't tell the difference between Jipsy's circular scribbles and Iece's attempts at coloring. He turned the image he was holding sideways, to see if that made it more decipherable. "Well, it's concealed, all right."

"Yes, Jipsy remembers that Grimauld is a secret place, and Master Draco likes privacy above all else. No one can bother him there. It's fitted with many of the same wards from his ancestral home."

"What?" He and Draco said in unison.

"The old home. The one that sits in Jipsy's room. There many children spirits who play there and remember Draco. They say he was very fond of playing with them when he was a child. He spent hours pretending to live in those rooms with them. They miss him, and are very glad that he has brought the model estate with him to his new home. They hope that one day they can meet you, Sir, and thank you for taking him out of that dreary state of affairs that made him so lonely."

Harry's eyes grew huge and he struggled not to laugh, as Draco demanded, "What!"

"You played with the dollhouse?"

"It wasn't like that. That thing is an architectural marvel, and appraised at millions. It's far more complicated than any dollhouse."

"Oh, yeah, the more expensive it is, the more dignified it is."

"Shut up."

"Did you have dolls too?"

Jipsy answered for him, "I left his puppets alone, right where he left them. Even the children don't touch his puppet collection. Most are still in their trunks and his favorites are in the little bedroom next to the baby's storage area. So many rooms are useful, generation after generation."

Draco looked like he was getting a migraine.

Harry had to ask, "So, what, you shrunk yourself or something, to play in that model of your family's estate?"

"I didn't shrink myself, just my toys. I went there to hide things. You don't want to be caught dead, shrunken, and have a real-life spider crawl up behind you. There are dimensional spells that I learned. That's how we got her clothes in there. They work great on three dimensional objects. I never thought the ghosts would move in, though. They followed me. I guess shrinking to size isn't a big problem for them."

"The ghosts of children were your playmates?" It sounded too sad to laugh at, even as Harry said it. No wonder Draco had taken up with Crabbe and Goyle at school. After sad ghost kids, those two must've been a blast.

"Wait a minute, how many dead kids are there in that thing? And what does the model have to do with Grimauld place?"

"A few," Draco told him. He shrugged it off. "They're family, it's nothing to worry about."

"Oh, your family is definitely something to worry about."

"Harry, they died during a different time. The 1800's, and even earlier. We can't understand their world, so don't go disturbing them just because they're in that model. To them, it's a comfortable place to hide from others and stay out of trouble."

"I bet. Lots of rooms. And now that haunted thing is in my home."

"You'll never have any trouble out of them. Those kids don't bother anyone. They're like me, they can't help the family they were born into."

"One headache at a time." He turned back to Jipsy. "Grimauld Place is now connected to that estate?"

She nodded eagerly and held up one of the crayon drawings. If he had to guess, he was looking at a fourth grader's depiction of an outdoor scene, with a house, a stick family as big as the house itself, green for grass and a generic pale blue sky, with a typical quarter sun filling a corner of the page.

He still didn't get it, and dreaded telling her so. She smiled understandingly, and reached out with one skinny arm to wack him on the back. His vision shifted.

Colors swam on the page, morphing into a tunnel that projected his vision through it. He felt as though it were pulling him down, but his body remained on the sofa. This let him know that he could go there if he wanted to.

"Look, Sir," she told Draco. "Look through the crayon and you can visit the halls of your old home again. Not the real one, but the one the children live in now. The model that takes up my room. I have these drawings. Each one is a portal, to be placed in your living quarters around the world. That way, no matter where you are, if you need to escape with the child, you can do so using the least harmful of the magics. Draco can stay there in comfort. He can hide if he needs to, just like the old days. The children were very helpful in giving me ideas. When his parents fought, these were Draco's favorite rooms."

This time, Harry didn't comment on her implications. Draco stared into his drink.

"Are you saying, that if I were to go to Grimauld place right now, it would look like Malfoy Manor?"

"Like the replica. Yes, but only on the inside. If you wanted the gardens, I've arranged other spells to create those illusions. The real Grimauld place has been stretched like a structure, upon which the manor hangs. I'm afraid I'm not a gifted artist and I don't put things together well. This was Jipsy's solution to making Draco feel pleased, just like you said. The children say that they could always make him stop crying and get him to play. He was very young. When he got old enough to go to school, he stopped coming, but they remember him fondly."

Harry felt sick. How bad did a kid's childhood have to be before he preferred ghosts? At least Dudley was decent to him sometimes, when no one else was looking. But Draco had been alone in that cold ass estate. What had he done when he gave Jipsy the freedom to create? It can all be changed back, right?

"Okay, Jipsy, you've done really well and I know I'm going to love whatever I see, but I may have been a little hasty when I asked for such big changes." He couldn't remember asking for anything like this. How did redecoration get turned into fucking dimensional reality changes?

Beside him, Draco chuckled. "You can't expect an elf to know what you mean. The next time you want time alone with your daughter, you're just going to have to tell her to get lost. She has too much energy and magic to think like us."

"First thing's first. I'm going to check out your changes, but we have to get Kreacher out of that bag. He's already grumpy, and I don't think that's going to improve his mood one little bit."

Draco sipped. "Not here you don't. I don't want him loose in here."

"Jipsy is hoping that Sir will come to see her vault like he promised, now that Jipsy is finished. There are many treasures that you should see."

Harry bowed his head, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out. He did want to see the heirlooms left to her. There had to be vital clues. He couldn't believe that he'd been having such a warm good time with Draco and Iece, that Snape could slip his mind for a moment. He suddenly felt guilty about having Jipsy go to so much trouble while he was being inattentive.

"Sure," he agreed, and heard Draco swear under his breath. He kept his face smiling. "You've done well. The next hour or two are yours, but we have to take Kreacher back right now."

She smiled and held out her arm. He found amusement in even her assertiveness in taking the lead to escort him. To Draco, "Will you guys be okay? It's just an hour or so, I promise. I'll be back before midnight. "

Draco kept his head turned and his eyelids at half-mast, as if Harry were boring him. Harry saw through the act and kissed him anyway. "Don't wait up, I know you're tired. Whatever this house thing is, we'll get it straightened out. She can't have your childhood ghosts, and I can't have Grimauld Place getting any creepier than it already is."

The corner of Draco's mouth finally gave in, turning upward. "Hurry back, or Grimauld's ghosts are going to gang up on my ghosts and overtake this whole damn apartment."

Harry left him like that. Grinning and waiting for his return.

Draco sat there a moment, his head reeling from Jipsy revealing his childhood secrets. He rubbed his eyes, unwilling to lay himself down and close them. Not with Harry coming back so soon. He was in the middle of arguing with his exhausted body, when the door buzzer sounded.

That was strange. They didn't know any muggles who would visit at this hour, rather than call. All of their wizard friends had access to them magically, and could floo if they knew they were coming. He went to the door and used a charm instead of the peephole. On the other side, waiting patiently like a bag lady with no one to talk to, was Mrs. Weasley. He cursed. And she was holding the plant he'd deliberately left at the hospital. This couldn't be good. He considered not letting her in. He could pretend to be asleep. But she was magic too, and already knew that he was standing right there, thinking about not letting her in.

"Hello Draco," she called through the door. "I'm sorry to pop in on you like this, but I had to wait till Harry was gone. That's why I didn't announce myself. Do let me in, dear. I promise I only want a word. I won't stay long, Arthur's expecting me back in twenty minutes."

He folded his arms and dropped his head. What was was she up to?

He finally opened the door, greeting her with his most humorless expression. "Look, I know you care about Harry, but I do think a visit this late is unwarranted."

She merely smiled pleasantly up at him. "You do, do you? Well I don't. Not over a matter of life and death. I'd come out of my bed, in the middle of the night, for anyone in your condition. Especially you. It's warranted, all right."

He indicated the plant in her hands. "I don't mean to be rude, but we left that on purpose. Those are the kinds of gifts that I can't obligate myself to take care of right now. Just because you have a green thumb, doesn't mean I do."

"Oh, you're quite the nurturer. I wanted you to have this, because that's the most obvious fact in the world. Did you even try to hold it? It's of the Rosaceae family, the Banksianae variety, and very helpful to the average household, if one knows how to use it. The leaves can cure many things, and I'm looking forward to showing you all the ways it can be applied in your home. It's an heirloom plant, and very special. I grew it from clippings that came from my own grandmother's."

He stood speechless. Not because he didn't know what to say, but because he knew that Harry would never forgive him for being as phenomenally rude to her, as he wanted to be at that moment.

Her motherly charm took on an evil cast to him, as she spoke through endearing wistfulness in her eyes. "Please take it. You've know idea how important it is for you to have it. I wouldn't bother you if it weren't."

"You couldn't give it to me in front of Harry? Sounds pretty sneaky to me. Just come out and ask me what you want to know. Banks and Arthur sent you, didn't they? Even Harry wouldn't like all this decoying and pressuring me behind his back. I know there's going to be a trial and I don't care. Let us have a few days of peace with him while we can. Go back and tell Banks that you couldn't find out a damn thing, because you won't."

She suddenly looked ten years older as she thought about his words. Then her face hardened, like she was making up her mind. She stepped forward, thrusting the small plant at him.

"I said take it." A deeper voice came from her. Meaner eyes narrowed up at him, like she was scolding her children.

Her tone implied that a duel was about to happen if he didn't. Fearing she'd gone mad, he held the thing against his stomach. Anything to get her to step back. His emotions warned him that he'd already done irreparable damage by calling her out like that. Not even Harry could fix the insult of not letting her come in and acting all friendly to her intrusion.

He looked at the heart-shaped leaves tickling his arm. It was a remarkably ugly plant, in spite of her claim that it belonged to a species of roses. It had yellow spots flecking the top surface and red veins on the underside of each leaf. Its stems had hairlike extensions that looked prickly and itchy. Barbs grew in sporadic clumps all around it. As he noticed how pathetic it looked, one of the barbs split. A sliver of yellow peeled back from it, the size of his pinky fingernail, until the whole thing unwrapped and swelled into a tiny blossom. Then another barb did the same thing. At first, one by one, then they began to open in clusters. Tiny yellow blooms swelled all over the plant so quickly, he hardly had time to hold it away from him, before it transformed into a bouquet of ten-petalled, miniature yellow roses.

The sight reduced him to profound silence. It wasn't that he'd never seen a magical plant before. He knew that he'd been tricked. Or rather, he wanted to blame her, but knew that she'd been trying to get him to come to it on his own terms. She was done waiting.

"I keep these in my home," she told him. "If you pay attention, any self-respecting witch has them on her kitchen window sill, or her mantle. They've always been in the family, reporting on whats going on with whom. Plants are the first to know."

He had a sinking feeling.

"These are a mother's best friend. Whether it's my daughter or my daughter-in-laws, I'm the first to know when there's about to be a new member of the family. They only bloom when someone's pregnant. Next Christmas, just watch me drag every young lady who enters my home, over to hold it while I dust the pictures. Sneaky? Yes, but I make up for it when I give her a cutting and tell her the secret. Usually after her first one is born and the cat's out of the bag. Then I swear her to secrecy."

She laughed, but Draco felt like he needed to sit down.

"Don't worry," she soothed. "I know it's not my place to tell him, and I won't. But you have to promise that you won't skip town and get rid of that baby without telling him yourself. He has a right to know."

Now she had his attention. She had him by the balls. The look in her eyes was pure steel. He shook his head to deny it, but he couldn't lie through his pain no matter how hard he tried.

"Be as rude to me as you dare. I can take it. I know you're scared. But don't get rid of Harry's baby just because life is about to get incredibly complicated over the next few months. Maybe even longer. Believe me, you've lived through the worst. A child is nothing to scare you off. I came here to beg you. I know you're planning to get rid of it, or you would've told him already. If I admit to you that I know, then you can't get rid of it as if it were never there. As long as you know, that I know, you won't make any rash decisions. If I pretended not to know, you'd do something stupid and think you've gotten away with it. You may hate me now, but I've just saved you a lifetime of regret."

She gave him a minute to let this sink in, then matched him steel for steel. "Harry will always have access to the truth, which I possess. I know that makes me a bitch, and I'll be one gladly, if it keeps that baby alive. So yes, my nosy, busy-body presence, is a matter of life and death. Please don't go to America to have an abortion. Please don't hurt yourself, or Harry, like that."


Credit: "Plants are the first to know," is a reference from Seth, a person channeled by Jane Roberts. He put forth the notion that plants are very psychic and always know who's pregnant. Sorry, I can't remember which of the Seth books it actually came from. Either, The Nature of Personal Reality or The Seth Material. Anyway, he was pretty magic, and that line comes from him. :-)

A/N:
Oh! Do you know what it's like to get a scene in your head so vivid and emotional and powerful, but not be able to share it for over a year? (Sometimes much longer!). I can remember posting the inspiration to have Mrs. Weasley be the first to really know about Draco's pregnancy, but the story hadn't progressed that far. And still, I spilled the beans on FB, not that anyone was waiting with baited breath. But it felt so thrilling to me. I was that excited. And now that I've written it, it feels so satisfying. I love these moments. It means that I can trust that any inspiration that comes to me, has its appointed time and place in being actualized. Those of you who are still reading, thank you for sticking it out.

Just for fun, I'm posting the original FB post below, along with the gif I used that day on February 29, 2020. It feels like two years ago. But beware, it has spoilers.

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THE GIF PROBABLY WON'T SHOW UP ON fan fiction . net. All my work is on archive of our own .

com.

Source link: /gifs/harry-potter-hp-draco-malfoy-XceCBzLVuAqju?fbclid=IwAR1lB2BKVScQhZffZysKlIVBrBLgZOywna7RmjM5Aq5yqhxfdIVVtbgR7Ik

That beautiful boy...

This is probably the best Drarry scene in the movie. (Nope! I'm wrong, it's the second best. The first is where Harry saves Draco from the fire)

This scene is two seconds long. So thank God someone slowed this scene down. Please help me take it apart and discuss every delicious, poignant, detail. Is it just me, or does this get more and more erotic as you view it in slow motion? This is why I love heavy, plot-driven fics, because the more you believe in their struggle, the more you have to care about them. And don't forget, they actually touch! I think they only do so maybe three times in all the movies put together! Oh, the slow burn.

When Draco is hurt, compassion comes pouring out of me. When Harry is angry, I stand back and watch him use power that no one sees coming, least of all Draco. When these two get together, the fireworks are spectacular! Just look at the hurt and defeat on Draco's face. After being such a two-dimensional character for so long, he shines in his suffering, and Harry goes from nice-guy to badass in one second! Draco is just so unprepared. He's in shock over the intensity of Harry's energy. He never saw it coming, and learned nothing from the Sectumsempra spell that demonstrated Harry does not f**k around. My heart breaks for him. He's all talk, beauty, and anxiety, but Harry goes for the kill. I love his dominance. I love that Draco needs his protection.

That blond little bully has grown up to be such a willowy, pristine trophy husband. The distance he put between himself and those less "pure" has only made him soft and vulnerable against them. Harry becomes his "muscle" in many ways. But he isn't weak. When tested, he will strike and he's always got Harry's back. He becomes Harry's reward and triumph over all things pureblooded.

Hell yes, the passion is hot. I want Draco knocked the bleep up! But not right away. I want him to be too proud to admit what he feels that he complicates everything. I want him always to be slender, elegant, and rich, next to Harry's lackluster, common willingness to rub elbows with anyone. I want him to fit into Harry's world like a square peg in a round hole, so that there is no rest to the challenges of their love.

And I want their parents all to have survived and be sooooo meddlesome in their relationship! They all lose their minds over the grandbaby and get really bossy, making the boys feel like they don't know what they're doing. Which adds to Draco's and Harry's marriage stress and the sex gets even more complicated because those urges don't go away just because you're pissed. Gods, this really is better than barbies!

In fact, I shouldn't say this, but I'm dying to tell someone. In my current fic, will be the first to realize Draco's expecting, through old-fashioned house-wife means (She has methods of keeping track on the females in her family. Children are everything!) She will cunningly confront him with it in private, just to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid like abort it. Her manipulation works! She gets tough and her message is: "As long as you know, that I know about the baby, you won't make any rash decisions. If I pretended not to know, you'd do something stupid and think you've gotten away with it. You may hate me now, but I've just saved you a lifetime of regret." (This is so dynastic to me! Prime time soap opera!)

(Draco and Harry are very troubled in this fic, and it's not just about them. It does not fit the pattern I've described above, so I didn't link it this time).
You know, mpreg is the height of bliss. Some people just can't soar that high.

I had to talk about this scene. It's the essence of so much excitement and complexity between them.
Hope it was fun for you too.