Author's Note: Hello friends! I am so sorry to have left this on a cliffhanger like I always do, omg. Let's see. Since this last chapter I've moved twice and gotten a new job I love. Re-reading Chapters 1-7 I fear I may never get over the fact that I watched Glee and it permeates everything I do school-related.

(SPOILERS, tw pregnancy and abortion talk. Something about me just wanted to recreated Quinn Fabray, idk)

Without further ado, here is the long-late chapter I promised you. Thank you for your patience, your grace, and as always, thank you for reading.

Chapter 8: She Can Reclaim It

The tension in the room was palpable when Minerva McGonagall called the professors to silence, for it was her turn to speak.

"We here at Hogwarts," she started. "Value above all the safety and wellbeing of our students." Why wasn't she getting right to it? "We also value the education of said students, when in accordance with the parental oversight committee." Draco and Harry exchanged looks. She had said this was an emergency, and they had sort of been in the middle of something…

"And knowing we shepherd these youths at a tender age, we must be delicate with what I am about to tell you…" McGonagall finally got closer to the truth, her approach to say what she was about to say faltering slightly. Oh, how could this have happened already? It was October!

At her side, Professor Sinistra was fretting with the beds of her nails like they were personally responsible. "We," she said in her wispy tone that was now more turned to melancholy. "Have been negligent as Professors!"

"Oh, please, Sinistra, let me at least say it," McGonagall sighed. "May I continue?"

"Yes, Headmistress…"

Draco observed Sinistra, cowing to McGonagall but clearly sour about it. The Astronomy Professor, eh? She looked just as old as when Draco and Harry had gone to school here.

With a final sigh, McGonagall revealed: "A student has found themselves… pregnant."

Whispers abound.

"Madam Pomfrey has confirmed that a seventh year Gryffindor student, Emily Byers, is with child," McGonagall admitted glumly. She was getting too old for this teenage hormone nonsense.

Harry's jaw fell open. "What?" One of his? Aw, hell. Harry immediately went to McGonagall's side. "How did this happen?"

"How it usually happens, I imagine," Draco offered up and got a baleful look from Harry. Worth it. Under his flippant remark, though, Draco did feel a strange pang to know how upset this was going to make Harry.

"What I means is—I dunno—when? Where? And who's the father?" Harry questioned on. "I mean, it couldn't have been in the girls' dorm."

"Wherever or whenever the conception occurred is irrelevant," spoke Professor Flitwick with an appropriate level of disgust talking about students. "There are contacts at St. Mungo's who have taken care of this problem in the past, no?"

"For the first time in Hogwarts history," McGonagall declared, clearly brought low by this. "Ms. Byers wants to both keep the pregnancy and finish her seventh year."

That was just as shocking to Harry as the first admission. Staying at Hogwarts? He couldn't blame poor Emily for not wanting to give up her education, but the scandal it would bring… The Prophet and other such lowly rags would be on this like vultures to a corpse. Harry knew keenly how awful being a global spectacle was and wanted to avoid that for his Gryffindors at all costs.

"And the monthly meeting with the parental committee is tomorrow. They will have to be informed," Sinistra broke the stunned silence. She looked right to Harry. "They will want answers from you in particular."

"When don't they?" Harry scoffed but his heart wasn't in it. Fuck, this was bad. An underage sex scandal was just what the 'concerned parents' of Hogwarts needed to stir up reactionary drama, which was what they did best.

"Professor Potter," she spat back, with quite a bit of spittle flying on those pronounced 'P's. "I would hope you have answers. For Ms. Byers' parents, for everyone's parents, on how this could have happened under your watch."

Well, that was quite the tonal shift from 'we' all being responsible.

"How far along is the student?" Draco interjected, hoping to take the heat off of Harry. "This could have happened over the summer."

"Ms. Byers is fairly early in her term," spoke Madam Pomfrey. "She came to me with the first missed menstrual cycle in a panic." A justified panic. "With the accuracy of magical detection, we can put the conception at about September 2nd to September 5th."

Shit, no time wasted, huh? Draco was almost impressed.

"What were you doing on those nights, Professor Potter?" Sinistra pressed.

"The first few nights were just like normal," Harry defended. "I didn't see anything out of the ordinary with Emily. You know her, she has that clipboard and is always analyzing Quidditch stats—" Fuck, they were going to have to find a new Quidditch captain. "The Prefects didn't report anything either those nights…"

"Who says it had to happen at night?" Draco challenged Sinistra. "And who is to say it wasn't one of your Ravenclaw boys? Did you notice anything strange those nights?"

Sinistra huffed and was about to retort when Minerva tapped her cane on the floor for silence.

"Madam Pomfrey," Minerva said over everyone's heads to the experienced nurse and healer. "Did Ms. Byers say anything about who the father might be?"

Pomfrey shook her head. "She was insistent on three things: keeping the child, finishing the year, and keeping the child's father to herself. Perhaps rather than assigning blame on him we can have Professor Potter speak to the girl. As her Head of House she may confide in him yet."

"What, send me in like a spy?" Harry questioned, frowning. "I do want to speak with her, but if she tells me something in confidence…"

"…then it is your duty to share it!" Sinistra argued.

Harry huffed. "Let me talk to her. Madam Pomfrey is right, I'd rather her talk to me than anyone who would seek to use her condition to point blame."

Sinistra gawped. Draco smirked to himself. That was the man who'd kissed him and called him 'brilliant'.

"Where is she now?"

"Still in the Infirmary. Would you like me to escort you there, Professor Potter?"

"No," Harry decided. "I will go on my own to see what she might say. And I intend to keep her vigil and confidence throughout this whole… experience." Harry was committed to his students—that much was unimpeachable.

Draco was caught looking admiringly at him by Hagrid, and quickly cleared his throat to change the subject. "If I may," he spoke. "I have experience dealing with parents of more… traditional and rigid values. I will assist you in making any brief necessary to the Parents' Committee," Draco offered McGonagall. She looked on him with a smile and a nod. Yes, he was getting along quite well as a new addition to their team of professors.

Minerva wasn't blind yet, as well, and could see how eager Draco Malfoy was to help the rivaling House. She was proud of him. Immensely. "Let us discuss it in my office, Professor Malfoy. The rest of you are dismissed, and I don't want to hear a single peep about this to anyone not in this room currently," she warned. Everyone was still standing around gawping, though. "Dismissed!" The Professors cleared the lounge.

Draco went to follow the Headmistress but threw a look back at Harry before he did. Harry caught the look, and a smile flickered on his face when he nodded to acknowledge it. Later, it said. Later we can continue where we left off.

For now, though, Harry was making the walk to the infirmary like a man to the gallows. Maybe if he took long enough to get down there, admired all the moving paintings along the way, she would tell him this was all a weird joke.

No such luck, it seemed, for when Harry entered the infirmary, he heard the soft sounds of a young woman crying behind a curtain. "Emily?" Harry questioned, standing at the edge of the curtain. Harry himself had spent many a day curled up in these beds recovering from various ailments, but he genuinely could not imagine what that would have been like if he knew there was a whole other person starting to grow inside of him. Harry shuddered a little.

The crying stopped, giving way to some sad sniffling. "Professor Potter? Is that you?" Emily Byers asked from beyond the curtain. Slowly, she peeked her head around the curtain and checked if anyone else was with him before inviting him in with a nod. Harry couldn't help but think how young and scared she looked.

Harry stepped behind the curtain and closed it. "Hey, Emily," he started and stopped when she burst into tears again. "Hey, it's okay—"

"I'm sorry," Emily sobbed, wiping at her eyes as she sat on the infirmary bed. "I'm so sorry…"

Looking a combination of horrified and mortified that her teacher was trying to comfort her, Emily wept on.

"Hey, hey," Harry said slowly. "You don't have to apologize to me. You don't have to apologize to anyone. The Headmistress informed me of your… situation, and I want to help however I can."

"B-but," Emily started, barely able to get the word out. "I made such a mistake… And soon everyone is going to know! But I can't, I just can't stop doing school, and I don't want to—you know—"

Harry's heart felt for this girl. Her condition would become obvious with time, yes. And kids could be immeasurably cruel. "That's your choice entirely," Harry said as they continued to dance around the subject of an abortion. "Nobody can make it but you. I just want to help, Emily."

An idea dawned on Harry, courtesy of one Remus Lupin. "Hey," Harry started again, reaching into an inner robe pocket to pull out a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes chocolate bar. "Would you like some of this? Chocolate always makes me feel better."

Emily Byers, not having expected this kind gesture from her professor, felt the tears coming up fresh again. "Y-yeah," she stuttered, and Harry handed her the chocolate. She took a bite and chewed, wetness still coating her cheeks.

"There you go," Harry soothed. Whether she would be a mother or not, this girl was still a child herself. She needed the kindness of the adults in her life more than ever now. "Just take a breath—I'm not going to let you go through this alone."

She turned her wet eyes up from the chocolate bar to Harry. "You won't?"

"I'm here for you the whole way." That, and a Hogwarts year was nine months, which meant the baby would be coming around Emily's graduation. Harry would not see her shunned or made fun of—she was doing her best. "I have some questions for you about all this, but if you prefer, we can wait until later."

"So, you want to know who the 'father' is, too?" Emily replied, retreating slightly. The way she said 'father' was a strange falter that Harry put on the fact that Emily had been crying. Harry had learned to cry quietly at a young age, and even that wrecked his throat for the next day.

"Not to get him in trouble," Harry said quickly, even though he wasn't sure what McGonagall actually had in mind for the father. "But it would help if we knew. We could provide services for him, too, like counseling. I know this is scary…"

"It is," Emily confirmed tearfully.

"But it takes two to, uh, tango," Harry stepped around the idea of his students having sex. Ugh, ew. "It isn't fair for you to be getting the brunt of this alone. And we can help you both plan for the future."

"I… I dunno…" Emily trailed off, her eyes becoming glazed and distant. Harry had lost her for now, it seemed. She crossed her arms and looked at the floor.

"You don't have to say anything right now," Harry told her. "I'd like to meet with you once a week to talk, if that's okay? We can meet in my office, or on the grounds somewhere you like. We can tell people it's because you're Head Girl, and you've got a bright future. Those two things are still true, Emily."

"Okay. I'll meet with you," she agreed. All was not yet to be revealed, but it gave Harry hope that one day it would be. For now, that was enough.

In the Headmistress's Office, Draco and Minerva found themselves able to speak freely. On the wall, Albus was napping while Severus' portrait was off somewhere else. For the best—Draco could only imagine the levels of dripping sarcasm that would be used on poor Harry if their old Professor found out one of his students was with child.

"September 2nd to September 5th," McGonagall mused, sitting in her chair behind her desk. They were midway through crafting a statement to be released, with Draco providing some particularly good insights on how to assuage an uptight parent. She supposed he had to be good at that with Lucius, another former student of hers. Usually, the students waited until they left the halls of Hogwarts to reproduce and give Minerva more magical students to worry about. "Do you remember what you were up to those nights? Don't look at me like that, Professor, I am simply curious."

Draco's hackles were admittedly up from Sinistra's blame game, so he made a conscious effort to lower them. In the seat opposite the massive desk he had his legs crossed and arms crossed, so he at least let his hands move to rest on the chair's arm rests. "The schoolnights of that week I was in my office and quarters mostly, sometimes in the library. That weeknight of the fifth—" Draco stopped himself. That was when Harry had taken him out for drinks. Oh, fuck. They left the kids unchaperoned for a few hours and all hell broke loose, apparently.

Minerva raised a thin brow, imploring him with that silent look of intimidation to carry on.

"Harry—Professor Potter—and I," Draco corrected but not quickly enough. Minerva had taken note of the use of his first name, and was officially curious as to how that had happened. "We took a short trip to Hogsmeade to reacquaint ourselves with the area before the first trips out with students."

"Right, and I'm sure the many pubs of the area had nothing to do with it," she sighed. "Regardless, that could fit the timeline. We will need to narrow down who used the password to get in and out of Gryffindor tower that night. I will track down this task myself, I know the old girl well."

Panic rose in Draco's throat. If she asked about who came and went from Gryffindor Tower that night, she might notice that Harry had left and, well, didn't come back until morning. "I will," Draco pushed more than offered. "I can talk to The Fat Lady. Er, can we even call her that anymore…?"

"I am told she can reclaim it," the Headmistress replied curtly.

"Right, of course. Um. I've got it covered, don't worry."

"I appreciate your assistance, Professor Malfoy, I truly do," Minerva prefaced her next statement. "But you needn't spread yourself thin."

"No, no, it's no bother," Draco insisted. "I want to help. Now, if we wrap up the statement here…" Draco went on to offer a few more notes on it, producing a careful-yet-informative letter to the parents' association. "…That should soften the impact."

"Like a pillow to a meteor," Minerva huffed. "But, thank you, Professor. One more thing before you leave. If you will."

Draco nodded, ready to hear just about anything at this point in the evening of Hogwarts' first big pregnancy scandal.

"You are exceeding my expectations, Professor. I had worried old tensions might arise between yourself and Professor Potter, but you both have handled it swimmingly. At least in front of the students."

She really wouldn't believe how 'swimmingly' it was going out of the students' eyes, but Draco kept that comment to himself. "It is, I believe, a genuine truce. We have found better things to do than fight each other," Draco allowed himself, repressing a goofy grin.

"Well done. I will let him know the same. Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight, Headmistress," Draco stood and left for the Gryffindor Tower with a twirl of his robe cape and a smile on his face.

It wasn't long up the stairs until he saw Harry heading down them. He looked exhausted from whatever kind of counsel he'd just had to give, but when his eyes found Draco's there was a visible perking up in his stride. That made Draco's whole day.

"Hey, Dr—Professor," Harry quickly corrected himself. "I just got Ms. Byers to stop crying and get into the dormitories for the night."

"The Headmistress and I worked on an acceptable statement to the parents. I can only imagine how Ms. Byers is feeling about it, though." She had a great deal of responsibility on her shoulders now, as if being a teenager wasn't hard enough.

"Spirits low, scared," Harry answered. "This… is going to turn some scrutiny on the school, isn't it." Scrutiny on them as Professors. They had technically been out drinking and flirting one of the nights that Emily Byers may have gotten impregnated. "We'll have to protect her."

Harry sounded so resolute when he said that. Like it was his sacred duty to defend her honor and honestly? It kind of was. Being a teacher, the only teacher in her life she'd even felt okay enough with to stop crying for a moment and accept some chocolate, Harry was bound in responsibility. Draco used to find the self-righteousness barf-worthy but it looked good on Harry tonight.

"We will." And we will have to protect each other, Draco wanted to say, but couldn't. That would require really and truly going out on a limb for someone else. "I've been sent to take a log of who goes in or out of the Gryffindor commonroom at night. You know her best, I assume. You can make… introductions."

Draco had of course 'met' the Fat Lady before but that was when he was part of a rogue death cult laying siege to the school. It would be best if Harry took the lead here, and Harry picked up on that, thank Merlin. Sometimes he could be thick, but something about him was energized right now. "Right, let's go ask," Harry nodded, still wanting to say so much more. He would have to save it for later, though. Later, like Draco's eyes had promised in the Professors lounge.

Harry turned up the stairs and back towards the portrait.

"Oh, Professor Potter!" tittered the opera singer on the canvas. "With… Oh. Professor Malfoy. Well." She immediately clammed up, arms crossed and everything.

"Yes, we are here as Professors. Signing up for that means signing up for the care and compassion that needs to be shown to our students—" Harry began.

"Oh, dear Potter," sighed the Fat Lady. "This is about that girl who was crying, yes? Did her boyfriend cheat? I hate when they cheat. Tell me what you need to know if it's to get back at a cheater."

"So, she has a boyfriend?" Draco inquired.

She narrowed her eyes. "YOU, sir, do not get any detail of this young woman's life from me. I have guarded the hearts of the girls of Gryffindor for ages."

"But… she does have a boyfriend, right?" Harry tried once more.

"For YOU, sir, wielder of Godric Gryffindor's sword, vanquisher of evil, I shall let you know one thing: someone had Ms. Byers' attention. Only lady portraits can enter the frames of the girls' dormitory—you yourself have never dared step inside dear chivalrous Potter—"

Draco had to hold back a snort. Right, chivalry kept Harry Potter from getting it in with any of the Gryffindor women. Harry, being in on the joke, tried his best not to look at Draco, because he knew if he did then they would both burst into laughter.

Keeping straight faces as it were, they listened to the opera singer prattle on about Harry's excellence some more. It made Harry look seasick.

"Did the lady portraits say anything?" Harry pressed.

"She's been sneaking out past curfew, later than even the Head Girl is let out," the portrait finally confided, shooting a glare at Draco after, just for being there. "But if I'm being honest… Lots of the girls do."

Harry gaped. "Lots of the girls do? What?" he pushed.

"Oh, dear Mr. Potter. Did you think you, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were the only Gryffindors in the history of this castle to sneak out at night using magic to cover their steps? Fear not. It's not all romantic trysts. Briana Robles works on projects for Hagrid at night. Loren Davis smokes blunts on the lakefront for her anxiety. Some just want a change of scenery. They are never in any real danger, not like you were. Because of people like him." She nodded in her frame to Draco.

Draco had no real response for that, because she was right, but he really was getting sick of how deep the red-and-gold blood ran in this corner of the castle. "My lady," Draco tried.

"Oh! Now he has some manners!" she huffed.

"My lady, I beseech you. On my very limited honor, sure, but I have to ask for the good of the students: did you see or hear about where Emily Byers goes when she sneaks out?"

"She is Head Girl of the noble house of the lion," the Fat Lady defended. She looked to Harry. "Do you trust this one? Truly? After all that has transpired?"

Harry finally allowed himself to look to Draco when answering this question. "Yes. I do. I trust he has the best interests of the students at heart."

Draco caught Harry's gaze and it was magnetic. He did his best to grasp at a rail at the top precipice of these stairs. Draco gripped that railing for dear life lest something sweep him off his feet, like Harry Potter's confidence in him.

"Then… fine!" she gave in. "Emily Byers goes to the Room of Requirement. And you know well there are no portraits in there."

"Thank you, my lady," Draco sighed, relieved. At least this mysterious happening in the Room of Requirement this year wasn't dark magic, just young mistakes. Draco would try to keep that perspective in what was to come when poor Emily started showing. She had a few months left of her childhood it seemed.

"Yes, thank you." Harry gave her a little bow of his head. "Looks like we need to go room-hunting if we want our answers," Harry quipped back to Draco. "How did you do it back in the day?"

"Develop an obsession with the schedule of whoever's summoning the room," Draco shrugged as if it were casual.

Harry hid a smirk. "Alright, fair." Where Draco had chased the Room of Requirement around looking for Dumbledore's Army in fifth year, Harry had indeed obsessively stalked Draco for his sixth year. Turned into spies as children, the ones who wandered in the dark. This was a strange reckoning, comparing their childhood to what they saw now in peacetime. "For tonight, Ms. Byers is asleep. We can try again on a Friday night, like the night we suspect the—um. The thing happened. Um." Harry looked around, wondering how to get out of this conversation with a door portrait about his underage students.

"Yeah, I feel unclean," Draco had to admit. The day had been going so well, what with Harry kissing him, and then it had to be ruined by the consequences of hormonal students. "Maybe a shower would help."

In the eye of Harry's mind he saw Draco disrobing and stretching under the spray of water. Yes, a much preferable image. He'd already seen him without his shirt in the Potions classroom when Draco had been kind or crazy enough to show Harry his scars, and that had been dancing through Harry's dreams quite nicely lately. "I told Hagrid I would help him write a letter back to Madam Maxine at his hut tonight," Harry remembered aloud now that he was thinking a little more romantically-oriented. "I was wondering… Did you want to come with me?"

Draco blinked. "Would Hagrid be okay with that?"

"Well," Harry said, ever-slowly shuffling away from the Fat Lady portrait who was listening to their every word and pretending she wasn't. "Let's just say he needs all the help he can get. Madam Maxine and him have been going steady a long while now, but the times when they're apart at the separate schools can get tough. She gets unsure when they aren't together, and all she has are Hagrid's letters to tide her over to the holidays."

Aw, that was almost sweet. "And you need me because you can't romance for shit, got it," Draco teased, quite pleased with the shocked look on Harry's face that it got out of him. "Come on, kidding. Let's go, then."

Harry shook his head, considering pointing out that his special brand of romance had been enough for Draco. But then there was a group of Gryffindors ascending the stairs towards their commonroom, and it was time to make themselves scarce from the portrait who was analyzing their every word. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

The descent to ground floor meant passing by gaggles of students headed in for the night, and that meant they couldn't freely speak their minds. Both fretting, both heads full of things thus far unsaid, they made it to the grassy knolls of the Hogwarts grounds.

In the distance a fire burned in the hearth of Hagrid's iconic hut, not having changed from when Draco and Harry were just kids in school themselves. It served as their light in the dark, the moon illuminating the rest of the way.

The brisk October air made Draco feel refreshed, and that refreshed feeling may have also had something to do with the man walking beside him. "Have you helped Hagrid with his letter-writing in the past? You haven't done terribly thus far, then, if they're still together," Draco phrased as a compliment but it still came out snarky.

Harry huffed a laugh. "No, I haven't done terribly," he confirmed. "But I'm not exactly Shakespeare."

"And you think I am?" Draco asked, giddy with what that all implied. "Careful now, Professor Potter. Flattery will get you everywhere."

"It's not flattery if it's true," said Harry with a light grin. "You have a certain quality to the way you write, I can tell from the parchment notes we've shared. It's… warm."

"Now that's the first time I've been accused of that," Draco observed, but didn't hate how it sounded. "I've been called an Ice Prince before, you know."

"And you are, to the unworthy," Harry parried back as they walked. "But when that ebbs away… You're like a star, Draco. A very warm one."

Draco couldn't help himself, he was blushing now. "I take back the joke about you being shit at romance. Damn, Potter. A star? I am named after a constellation, after all." Draco tipped his head back to the sky. Harry, who was watching Draco closely and finding great joy in making the Ice Prince melt, also tipped his head back.

"Where are you?" Harry asked of the night sky.

"Professor Sinistra somewhere, somehow just sneezed," Draco chuckled. "You really weren't paying attention at all in her classes, hm?" Draco stopped walking, and took Harry's wrist. He pointed his arm up at the sky and spread his thumb and forefinger. "Right… there."

Draconis was shining bright, trailing across the sky like a true dragon. "Looking good," Harry remarked. Harry, who had already lost himself the moment Draco touched him, turned his head to look at him. They were in the middle of the castle and Hagrid's hut, two figures huddled in the night. It wasn't dark, though. Nothing could be dark with Draco's pale hair and skin looking so luminous. "Yeah, looking good."

It was impossible to tell who kissed who first this time, the both of them meeting in the middle to share in each other.

It was also impossible to tell how long they stood there, Harry's hand coming down from the sky to wrap around Draco's waist, to hold him close like he'd always wanted to.

"As much as I would like to do this all night long…" Harry prefaced his next statement with, and it seemed Draco understood even before he said it.

"Yes, yes, endless interruptions and responsibilities. We have to get you to Hagrid's hut not looking like I jumped you halfway here." Draco used the hand that wasn't gripping Harry's shoulder to fix his hair. A futile task, really, but Draco just wanted to fuss over him. "And we have classes tomorrow, and the day after, and then we have Hogwarts' first pregnancy scandal to untangle, and make sure there isn't a second one by year's end. You've always had a lot on your plate though, haven't you?"

Harry laughed. "That's one way of looking at it, yeah. But I want to, um… Make time for you. Very much."

"Good, because I'm not low-maintenance," Draco replied with a laugh of his own.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Harry said, completely honest and a little terrified by that.

Draco continued fixing Harry's hair as the wind picked up, straightening out his robes and tie. "Good." He dipped in to kiss his cheek. "And we don't have to tell Hagrid tonight."

"Some day, though," Harry quickly followed up. "We just don't want to, you know, outshine his announcements about Olympe."

"Oh, I really must have it bad," Draco sighed. "I'm willing to be cursed with the mental image of straight giant sex for you."

A horrible laugh bubbled out of Harry. "Draco! Be nice, you have to be nice."

"Alright, alright. But you have to hold my hand the whole way there and back and listen to me bitch about it later."

"I accept your terms," Harry agreed, lacing their fingers together.

They turned up on Hagrid's doorstep giggling but finally letting each other go with a last squeeze. Then Draco set his face as stoic as he could before nodding to Harry, giving him permission to knock. After this, after classes, maybe even in between classes, they would make time for whatever was building here between the two of them.