Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.
Notes: A brief rendezvous changes Draco’s life.
Draco couldn’t understand how he had ended up here. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, nothing at all. He had gone to
classes, tormented Potter and his goody-goody friends, went to meals, again tormented Potter, studied, and of course took
great joy in making Potter’s life miserable. Absolutely nothing unusual there. When he had gone to bed that night, he had still
felt perfectly fine.
But he had awakened not too long after he had fallen asleep, actually not too long past midnight. Feeling wide awake, he had
put on his slippers and donned his invisibility cloak - a gift from his father - and had gone down to the lake to relax a bit. He
often had trouble sleeping and usually a walk such as this would help. This night, it didn’t seem to be doing much good
though. So he returned to the castle, thinking that maybe a bite to eat was what he needed.
He had strolled down to the kitchens, knowing that Dobby would be more than happy to provide him with something. Even
though the House Elf had feared his father, he had never treated Draco with anything less than kindness. The elder Malfoy
would probably be horrified to know that his only son was rather good friends with their former house elf. Dobby had been
there for Draco for most of his life, taking care of him when his parents had been too busy. Dobby had eased his fears after
nightmares, had praised him the day he had learned to write his own name, the day he had ridden his first broom, and
numerous other achievements. Dobby had never been anything but his best friend. So Draco was certain that Dobby would
help him tonight.
Sure enough, Dobby had been overjoyed - though worried - by Draco’s appearance in the kitchens that night. He had chided
Draco for being awake so late at night, making a point of exclaiming how thin Draco was and saying that he really should eat
better. Draco merely smiled and nodded, knowing full well that he didn’t intend to heed Dobby’s advice, no matter how good
it was. What did it matter if he ate properly or not? It wasn’t as if anyone but Dobby cared about him anyway.
He had finished his snack quickly and had left. Usually he stayed longer, conversing with his friend, playing random games.
But he hadn’t felt much like chatting tonight. He didn’t really know what was bothering him though.
Draco sighed, quietly making his way back to the Slytherin dorm, his cloak draped carelessly over his shoulder, forgotten. He
almost didn’t see the figure sitting on the ledge in front of one of the windows, blankly staring out at the stars. Had it not been
for the moonlight reflecting off the quiet boy’s glasses, Draco probably wouldn't have noticed him at all.
“Too good to pay any attention to the school rules, Potter?” Draco sneered, giving the Gryffindor one of his best glares. Of
course, he was breaking the rules as well, but acknowledging that little fact would only serve to spoil his fun.
Potter merely sighed, giving Draco only a cursory glance before he returned his attention to the shimmering stars. “Sod off,
Malfoy.” Potter replied, though his voice was hardly scathing.
The lack of reaction had only served to infuriate Draco though and it wasn’t long before he had started in on him again. Draco
criticized Potter’s clothes, his hair, his scar. He had insulted his friends and family. But when he had mentioned that mangy
mutt Sirius Black, Potter snapped.
He practically launched himself from his seat at the window and barreled into the blonde. As he fell to the floor with Potter
above him, Draco became all too aware that Potter was of a slightly larger build than him, his body stronger. Draco was by no
means weak, but then again, he didn’t take care of himself as he should.
He tensed and closed his eyes, waiting for a harsh blow, thinking briefly that he had pushed things a mite too far this time.
After all, if that Mudblood Granger could throw a punch, then Potter could throw one just as well, if not better. He wasn’t
about to let his guard down for anything, better to brace himself now than to regret it later. He might have been pinned beneath
the other boy, but he felt like he could handle just about anything that happened. He didn’t know how wrong he’d turn out to
Draco lay there for a brief instant when no punch came flying at his face. There were no strikes, no kicks, no bites, nothing at
all. He peeked his eyes open, curious to know what was going on. He froze, his eyes locked with Potter’s, staring deep into
those bottomless eyes. There was a strange gleam there, something swirling in those depths, but Draco didn’t understand
what it could possibly be. Why wasn’t Potter hitting him?
That’s when Harry moved. Before Draco knew what was happening, Potter had leaned down and had planted his lips squarely
onto Draco’s, stealing his first kiss from him. There was a brief moment of shock as his heart flipped before Draco realized
that he kind of liked the sensation. So, he did what seemed natural to him. He closed his eyes again and kissed Potter back. It
felt good, damn good. Draco didn’t think he had ever felt this way before.
Draco had never been kissed before. Actually, he didn’t remember the last time he had received so much as an affectionate
touch of a finger across his cheek. His parents were distant at best, busy with their own lives. He hardly saw either of them
anymore. Mother was busy with her social functions, her parties and lunches and whatnot. Father had his Death Eater
meetings and business at the Ministry.
He was so starved for affection, so desperate for any hint of contact, that he whimpered with need as Harry’s callused hand
came up to caress his throat. All thought fled from his mind then. What did it matter how the day had started or how he had
spent it, how odd this situation was? The reality was that they were here now and Draco was dead set on enjoying every
moment that he could.
Harry pulled back sharply at the sound of Draco’s whimper, perhaps mistaking it for a sound of distress. “Sorry . . . I’ll go.”
He stammered, beginning to move away.
A flood of panic spread like ice through Draco’s blood. He shivered, throwing his arms around Harry, yanking the dark-haired
youth down on top of him. “No . . . please . . . keep going.” Draco whispered, his focus lost in the deep endless seas of
emerald that were Harry’s beautiful eyes.
A soft smile came to Harry’s lips, his eyes shimmering with some unidentifiable emotion. He bent forward again, his lips
tracing down along Draco’s jaw, then to his throat. He licked the skin there, making Draco shudder in pleasure, before he
opened his mouth and began to suck at the flesh. Draco raised his hands, twisting his fingers in unruly black hair. He didn’t
know what else to do. Despite the many offers he had gotten over the past couple years, he had never shagged anyone before
and his father had never divulged much in the way of information of the interactions of homosexual couples. Oh, sure, he
knew the basics. Tab A goes into Slot B and that type of thing. He had overheard Crabbe and Goyle bragging about
conquests. But he knew very little else, like how it was supposed to happen without causing pain. So he simply let Harry
guide his movements, reacting purely by instinct.
Between nibbling bites and teasing licks, Harry spoke. The feel of Harry’s breath against his skin had Draco shuddering again.
“Maybe we should take this somewhere more private.” Harry suggested, grinding his pelvis down against Draco's, eliciting a
strangled moan from the inexperienced blonde.
“Yes . . . yes, whatever . . . wherever.” He agreed, nodding his head vehemently. He didn’t care where they went so long as
Harry kept touching him. At the moment, he probably wouldn’t have minded if Harry had dragged him straight into the Great
Hall in the middle of lunch and bent him over the staff table. He just didn’t want Harry to stop. Oh, he didn’t have any foolish
misconceptions that this was anything more than a convenient fuck. There was no emotion between them, nothing but hatred
and the lustful wantings of two hormonal sex-driven teenage boys. After this was over and done with, the two of them would
more than likely return to past behavior. Draco would continue to insult Potter’s friends and family. And Harry would keep
acting like the perfect Gryffindor, Dumbledore’s precious pet.
Harry fisted his hands in Draco’s robes and hauled him to his feet, never ceasing his sensual assault on the Slytherin. His
mouth kept sucking at Draco’s throat, no doubt leaving a mark on the once flawless skin. If he could have gathered enough
sense to think, he might have worried about the explaining he would have to do to his House Mates should they happen to see
Together, the two of them stumbled through the hallways, trying one door and another and another, getting frustrated time and
again as they found the classrooms locked. Finally, Harry pulled away from Draco for a moment and took out his wand. With
a quick shout of “Alohomora!” the door unlocked and opened and the two of them were free to stagger into the classroom,
nearly falling over in their exuberance.
Draco gasped when he finally broke his mouth and eyes away from Harry, surprised to find himself standing in the Potions
classroom. He hadn’t known they had traveled down into the dungeons. It was startling, but then again it didn’t really matter
where they ended up. A room was a room and Draco knew for a fact that Snape would be patrolling the corridors in an upper
level at this hour. The man was quite looking forward to catching hapless students in the halls after curfew. The only places
he didn’t patrol were the lower levels where Slytherin students could potentially be found. He was rather protective of the
students of his own house, though he did tend to turn a blind eye for minor infractions of the school rules.
He quickly got over his shock of finding himself in the Potions classroom when Harry’s voice caught his attention. The
Gryffindor wisely cast sealing and silencing charms on the dungeon classroom. With another wave of his wand and a
muttered charm, all of the items on Snape’s desk were picked up and safely deposited on the floor. At least now they didn’t
have to worry about making too much of a mess. Though, honestly, Draco doubted he’d have worried about it anyway.
Harry’s arms circled his body from behind then, hands locking at Draco’s waist, his chin resting on Draco’s shoulder. “You
sure you want to go through with this?” The other youth asked, his hot breath ghosting across Draco’s neck.
Draco nodded without really thinking, raising his hands to settle atop Harry’s. “Yes, please.” He whispered, not caring that it
was a Gryffindor he was pleading to. He just didn’t want this to stop. For once, he did not want to feel alone, to be alone.
“Do whatever you want.”
Harry said nothing more on the matter. His lips found Draco’s earlobe. He chuckled as Draco practically screamed in
response to the gentle touch of Harry’s teeth against flesh. Then Harry began to trail his tongue up along the curve of the
Slytherin’s ear and Draco found his legs buckling. Whoever knew that magic could be felt in such a simple act?
Draco abruptly found himself spun around and his lips were once again locked in a searing kiss with Harry. ‘What brought this
on?’ He idly wondered. He backed up when Harry gently pushed him, not knowing or caring where the Gryffindor youth was
leading him. He stumbled slightly when the backs of his thighs hit a solid force, breaking the kiss with a muffled grunt. “What
. . .” He looked behind himself and saw that Harry had backed him up against Snape’s desk. Judging by the delightful
hardness that was pressing against his leg, Draco gathered that what they had come in this room for was about to happen.
Rather than fear it, Draco felt his heart speed in anticipation as Harry’s hands fumbled with the catch of his robes.
The dark-haired youth pushed the robes from Draco’s shoulders, sliding them along his arms and leaving him effectively
trapped within his own garment. Harry toyed with Draco’s shirt for an instant before a wicked gleam sparkled in his eye and
he simply ripped the shirt open with one firm yank.
Draco let out a surprised exclamation. Harry was strong for his size. That shirt had been new and charmed to prevent tears.
Obviously, the charms hadn’t been strong enough against Harry. He had no more thoughts as Harry’s hands and mouth
explored the newly revealed territory of Draco’s chest and stomach.
Harry fell to his knees before the blonde. Draco gripped the edges of the desk with his hands, bracing himself, watching with
anticipation as Harry’s fingers slipped in gentle teasing touches along his chest, tweaking a nipple before sliding lower.
Draco tried to breathe as Harry’s lips pressed against the Slytherin’s stomach, his mouth parting and grazing his teeth over the
skin, his tongue darting out to taste the blonde. He grabbed the waistband of Draco’s trousers, his other hand fumbling with
the fastenings briefly to undo them and pull them down only enough to bare a bit of skin. Harry kissed and licked and bit a
path along the now exposed planes, nipping lightly at the blonde’s hipbone. Draco shuddered above him, his body singing
under all of this attention.
“M-More.” Draco said with a husky whisper, unintentionally rocking his hips forward slightly.
A slight chuckle escaped Harry, but he said nothing. Instead, he moved his mouth back across Draco’s mid section, dipping
his tongue into the blonde’s navel before proceeding lower. Draco held his breath, not truly certain what he could expect as
Harry roughly yanked his pants down to pool around his ankles, his boxers soon following.
“Beautiful . . .” Harry murmured.
Draco whimpered as Harry nibbled up along his legs, starting just above his knees. He let out a sharp cry when Harry abruptly
swallowed his hardening member whole, his hands gripping roughly at either cheek of his ass to drag him ever closer to the
encasing warmth and wetness.
“Yes . . .” He hissed, throwing his head back. “That’s so good! More!” He looked down again, his chest heaving as he
struggled to breathe normally.
Harry smirked up at him, letting the hard length slip from his mouth. “You, my lovely Draco, are in no position to give any
orders.” With that, he nipped the tender inside of Draco’s thigh, causing Draco to bite his lip to keep from sobbing in desire.
“Hmmm . . . we have a small problem though.”
Draco wanted to scream. One of Harry’s hands was running up and down along his cock and the fingers of his other hand
were teasing at his entrance. “Wh-what? What problem?” He bucked his hips when Harry leaned down to give the tip of his
penis a few more licks.
“Lubrication, Draco . . . we need it.” He said, shaking his head a little. “As much of a prat as you’ve been to me . . .” He
slapped Draco’s thigh to put emphasis on that point. “I don’t want to cause you any unnecessary pain . . . not in this.”
Draco didn’t quite understand why Harry needed lubricant and he quietly pondered it for several moments. When he finally did
realize the purpose, his eyes widened and a startled “Oh” left his mouth. Briefly, he considered what they could use as a
lubricant, then he remembered where he was and he felt like smacking himself.
“Why don’t we just use a potion?” Draco asked, gesturing with a nod of his head toward the cabinet nearby.
Harry turned, a frown coming to his lips. “Honestly, I wouldn’t feel comfortable rooting around in Snape’s stores. I might
end up pulling out something . . . dangerous or toxic.”
Draco rolled his eyes, letting his lips curl in a sneer once again. “Are you ever awake during Potions class, Potter? Professor
Snape takes deliberate care in labeling all of his potions.” He huffed, pushing his weight off the desk.
He shrugged his shoulders, causing the robes to slip from his arms, his shirt still hanging open on his frame. He uneasily
stepped out of his shoes, pants and boxers, leaving his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor. Then, he casually strolled to
the cabinet in his sock-clad feet and opened it, giving the various phials and bottles a careful lookover. His eyes alighted on a
calming balm and he nodded, grabbing it and heading back over to Harry.
“Here, use this.” He said, shoving the jar into the Gryffindor’s hand before he hopped up to sit on the edge of Snape’s desk,
waiting patiently for whatever Harry meant to do to him.
Harry was silent a moment. “You know something? Even in the position you’re in, you are still acting like a prat. I think I’m
just going to have a little more fun with you in punishment.” He grinned, moving to stand in front of the blonde.
Draco gasped as Harry lowered his head and sucked on one nipple while pinching the other. He’d underestimated Harry’s self-
control, so had thought that Harry would go right into the main event. Of course, to be honest, he wasn’t totally sure how that
was supposed to go.
He was helpless as Harry pinched, licked, nibbled and caressed various sensitive parts of his body, sending flare after flare of
pleasure through his shivering body. He was begging by the time he felt one of Harry’s lubricated fingers entering him.
He froze, his body going rigid in fear. He didn’t know if he could go through with this. No, this was going a bit too far, wasn’
t it? Did he really want Harry Potter to be his first? He didn’t know now. His heart was pounding in his chest, his body
shuddering terribly. And Harry was standing between Draco’s spread thighs, his voice whispering soothing words meant to
calm him, running slow careful circles on his skin with that strong hand of his.
“You okay?” Harry asked, retracting his finger. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Did I go too fast?”
Draco took a few calming breaths, trying to think. Harry Potter had been his arch rival since their first year. Did he really
want to lose his virginity to someone who hated him? Then again, out of everyone in this school, Potter was probably the only
one who would care to stop when Draco got frightened, enemy or not. He doubted that he would be able to find someone so
selfless, so tender and giving to share this time with. No Slytherin would give a damn about hurting him. Besides, other than
Goyle and Crabbe, Draco didn’t know for certain who else in this school was gay and he wasn’t about to go up to strange
boys asking them if they were and if they wanted to shag him.
Draco shook his head. “I’m okay.” He said honestly, his voice shaking. “Just nervous. You sure you’re not intending to hurt
Harry let out a soft breath, lifting his hand to caress Draco’s cheek. “If I had wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have stopped.”
Yes, that made sense. If Harry had wanted to hurt him, he probably wouldn’t have bothered with lubrication at all. Draco
nodded, feeling better. “Keep going then.”
Harry smirked, but nodded his head. “Anything you say.” He chuckled, his mouth latching onto the blonde’s throat once more.
Though still terribly nervous, Draco gave in to the sensations Harry brought forth. Each touch of his hand seemed to bring a
spark of pleasure, no matter where he touched the Slytherin. When Harry’s fingers brushed the cleft of his ass though, Draco’
s body stiffened again, his hands going up to grip at the other youth’s robes.
Worry flickered in Harry’s hypnotic green eyes and Draco offered a faltering smile. “Y-You’re still dressed.” He said, trying
to play off his fears as if they were nothing.
“That can be remedied.” Harry replied, stepping back from the blonde. With deliberately slow movements, Harry shed his
garments, dropping them onto the pile of Draco’s clothes. Leaving his boxers on, he kicked the pile of clothes aside and
moved forward, leaning in to kiss Draco once more.
Harry’s hands gently guided Draco to lie down. Those hands then went to their previous activities, his mouth moving along
Draco’s jaw. The tips of Harry’s fingers were freshly lubricated as they massaged Draco’s entrance again, one finger slowly
pushing past the tight ring of muscle and working its way inside. Draco grimaced slightly at the unfamiliarity of the sensation,
but soon relaxed into it. He tried not to dig his hands into Harry’s biceps, though he did hold the Gryffindor firmly. He just
closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, trying to stay calm as Harry soon pressed a second finger up into him.
“That’s it . . . don’t fight me in this or it will hurt.” Harry spoke with a whisper across Draco’s cheek, his voice belying a
sense of calm as if he had done this before.
Draco arched his back as Harry’s free hand circled his hardened length and gave him a fleeting stroke before he moved to rest
his palm against Draco’s hip. “So . . . how many times have you done this?” Draco asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant
though there was a part of him that would be deeply wounded if Harry gave him a large number.
Harry chuckled softly as he continued preparing Draco. “None, really, but I’ve read a couple books and there are a few
students in Gryffindor who like to talk. And of course Seamus and Dean did give all the seventh-year boys a free show that
one afternoon they didn’t bother closing the curtains on Dean’s bed.” Those slick fingers were working within Draco, slowly
and cautiously stretching his passage with careful thrusts and gentle scissoring motions. “And you? How many times have
you done this before that you know which vial contains something that wouldn’t hurt?”
Draco snorted. He was not about to let on that he was a complete innocent in this. He had a reputation to uphold. And telling
Harry that he was a virgin would probably only cause him to be laughed at and teased by who knew how many people. Harry
would most likely tell all of his friends, which in turn would spread throughout the school like a wildfire. “Unlike you, I believe
that some things remain unsAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” He practically screamed, bucking his hips from the table as Harry’s
fingers pressed against something inside of him. It felt too wonderful to be good, sinfully wicked in the way it spread waves
of euphoria through every inch of his body. He writhed and cried out over and over again as Harry continued to rub that spot
while stretching him.
Harry’s eyebrow quirked. “I think I’ll let that slip, Malfoy.” He stated, perhaps referring to whatever scathing remark Draco
had been thinking to respond with a moment ago.
Of course, Draco didn’t even remember what he had been getting ready to say himself. He could barely keep himself
breathing, let alone think of proper insults. Harry was doing things to him, things he had never imagined would ever be done to
him. If he had the sense of mind to do so, he’d probably be cursing his father’s disregard of giving him a proper sexual
education. Draco felt sadly insufficient. Here Harry was doing all of this for him - to him - and Draco was simply lying there.
He tried to think, tried to figure out what he could possibly do. But every time he came close to thinking of something, Harry’s
fingers would touch that spot again and cause his body to thrash, making him forget everything.
A third finger was carefully inserted and Draco couldn’t keep himself from moaning deep in his throat at the delicious
sensations. He clawed at the table’s surface, spreading his legs a bit further apart. “More . . .” He panted, rocking his hips in
time with Harry’s fingers.
“Like that, do you?” Harry said, his voice husky with desire. “I have something you’ll like even better.” He slipped his fingers
from the blonde’s passage, leaving Draco to whimper feebly and shake with need.
“Please?” Draco gasped, his eyes hazy with lust as he looked upon the beautiful man standing between his wantonly spread
thighs. “Please . . . it hurts . . . please.” He lifted his hips, his aching cock nearly flat against his belly. With a shaking hand,
he reached to take hold of himself, perhaps to sate this terrible - yet wonderful - ache, only to have his hand slapped away by
“Uh-uh-uh, can’t have any of that.” Harry chided with a cluck of his tongue. “If anyone’s going to make you writhe in
pleasure, it’s going to be me.”
“Then do it already.” Draco gritted out through clenched teeth.
Harry merely chuckled, shucking that last remnant of clothing that he wore - his boxers. His hands slid up and down along
Draco’s thighs, as if he were just content to touch him. It was then that Draco looked down and he had to bite his lip to keep
from gasping in surprise.
Honestly, Draco hadn’t thought that Harry would be so well-endowed. While Draco was by no means small - he was larger
than average if he judged by locker room standards - Harry had a most impressive package, both in girth and length. “Wow.”
Was about as much as he could formulate for a good long while, his eyes glued to the mouth-watering erection presented
before him. Then a thought struck him and he had to voice it. “That’s going to hurt.” He stated, his brow furrowing as he
“No, not if we go slowly . . . if you relax.” Harry replied, moving closer, bending his body over Draco’s so that they were
chest to chest, face to face. “Are you ready?” He asked as he brushed his thumb across Draco’s cheek.
Draco nodded, his cock throbbing between their two bodies. “Yes, please.” He pleaded, knowing that he had no regrets now.
Even if Harry did hurt him, it would be well worth it. At least his first time would be remembered.
Harry kissed Draco again, tongues sparring as he blindly coated his length with more balm and guided himself to rest at the
Draco gasped into Harry’s mouth at the feel of that thick shaft nudging up against him. Still, he forced himself not to panic.
He wrapped his arms around Harry’s sleek body, holding onto him as the Gryffindor began to push inward.
He broke the kiss with a pained cry, roughly shoving at Harry’s chest with clenched fists, his muscles instinctively clenching.
“Stop! It hurts!” He shouted, his eyes screwed shut. His backside burned terribly, feeling as if Harry were tearing him apart,
though really the Gryffindor hadn’t gotten all that far.
“Sshh, sshh.” Harry hushed, stilling himself . “Breathe. Relax. Let this happen.” He stroked his hand through Draco’s hair,
lightly petting him. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
The nervous blonde took several long deep breaths, allowing himself to relax under Harry’s gentle ministrations. Harry
caressed him and soothed him as they waited. Never once did Harry attempt to push himself in further or retract himself. He
simply stayed where he was, giving Draco all the time he needed.
After a few more moments, Draco opened his eyes and gave Harry a shaky nod. “Okay . . . I’m ready.” He whispered.
“You sure?” Harry asked, his hand sliding along the Slytherin’s hip. “If you want to take another minute, you can.”
Draco felt a swell of emotion at that kind offer, which he quickly quashed and hid from playing across his features. He couldn’
t let Harry see just how much that simple statement had meant to him. To know that someone actually cared about his well-
being, it was on the verge of overwhelming. No one had ever cared about him before, at least not for a very long time.
“I’m fine now. Keep going.” He said, offering a brief smile.
Harry did just that. He rested one hand at Draco’s hip, slowly delving deeper into the blonde’s body, never moving too fast.
Draco concentrated on his breathing, biting his lip as he tried to get over his fears. Harry wasn’t hurting him, but it was very
Harry rolled his hips, rocking back and forth. With every little thrust he pushed his way further in, until finally he was settled
completely within the other youth. He pressed his forehead into Draco’s shoulder, his breath coming out in harsh pants as he
gave the both of them time to adjust.
Draco quickly grew tired of waiting around for Harry to move. His body was pulsing with need, craving more of Harry's
touches. He wanted more and he wanted it now. So, he did the only thing he could do in his position. He threw his arms
around Harry again, lifting his mouth to nip lightly at the dark-haired youth’s neck as he rocked his hips.
Harry groaned, turning his head to the side to give Draco better access. “You ready, I suppose?” He breathed.
“We don’t have all day here, Potter.” Draco snapped. “Professor Snape does come in here to prepare for his first class before
“Daybreak is still hours away.” Harry retorted. “But, I’m not in any mood to play around any longer.”
Slowly, Harry began to pull out, only to thrust back in again. Time and again he repeated this timeless motion, plunging deeply
into the blonde’s body. Draco twisted his legs around Harry’s waist, dragging him closer, raking his hands across the
Gryffindor’s back and leaving harsh red marks behind.
“Gods, that feels so good.” Draco moaned, throwing his head back as a thousand feelings and emotions exploded within him
all at once.
Harry grabbed Draco’s wrists, laying them on the table above Draco’s head and held them there with one hand. His other hand
curled around Draco’s hip, holding him steadily as he began to move faster. “It’s so tight.” He hissed, his thrusts speeding
moment by moment.
Draco lifted his hips to meet each of Harry’s drives, faltering in the pace as Harry’s lips found his nipples again. Draco cried
out time and again, lost in the pleasure. And then Harry changed his angle and struck that spot once more, causing Draco to
buck uncontrollably and nearly knock Harry off of him.
“Again . . . again! More!” Draco called out. “Faster . . . go faster . . . harder.” He begged, wanting nothing more than
everything Harry could give to him. He didn’t know what lay in wait for him at the end of this experience, but he could barely
wait to find out. There was a delicious coiling in his stomach, a throbbing pulse that told him he would definitely enjoy it.
Harry said nothing. Instead, he pulled himself away from Draco, rising to stand upright in front of the blonde. Draco nearly
sobbed in disappointment as Harry’s hard cock slipped out of him. Briefly, he thought that Harry was going to punish him for
all the cruelty over the years and just leave him unsatisfied.
However, those worries were quickly forgotten as Harry yanked Draco to stand as well. He roughly turned the blonde around
and bent him forward over the professor’s desk. It wasn’t more than a few seconds later that he felt Harry’s hands spreading
the cheeks of his ass. Draco moaned in anticipation, setting his feet farther apart, welcoming whatever Harry had in store for
Harry took the invitation eagerly, surging hilt-deep into Draco’s body with one powerful thrust. Draco was rocked forward by
the force and he had to grip the edges of the desk to keep himself steady. He screamed in sweet bliss as Harry wasted no time,
grabbing Draco by the waist and pounding into him at a brutal pace. Draco knew he’d be sore in the morning, but couldn’t
find the will to actually care. No, he wanted Harry to go faster, to rip him to shreds if it meant he would get to feel more of
this. So he just held onto the desk, laying his face against the hard surface when his arms could no longer hold his weight up.
It was all he could do to keep from having his stomach slammed into the edge with every pistoning of Harry’s hips.
Harry held him firmly, his fingers digging deeply into the blonde’s skin, undoubtedly leaving bruises behind on the pale flesh.
With every primal drive, he yanked the Slytherin back against him, changing his angle every now and then to strike that sweet
spot and leave Draco screaming in pure ecstasy.
Draco could only ride the waves of passion. Sweat all but poured from his body, his hair plastered to his skin. His shaft
bobbed with every motion, aching, throbbing. And then Harry’s hand left his hip, sliding around to curl around the blonde’s
painfully hard erection, his thumb brushing across the very tip and squeezing, stroking him only once.
“Oh, sweet Merlin!” He screamed, bucking forward uncontrollably as the simple fleeting touch left him falling into oblivion.
He convulsed, his seed pulsing out to splash across the side of Snape’s desk. Harry’s hand stroked him again, milking him of
everything he had, leaving him shivering in the wake of his first orgasm.
Behind him, Harry grunted, thrusting twice more before he found his own release. He gripped Draco’s hip tighter, shoving
himself as far into the blonde as he could go one final time. His body jerked behind the blonde as he gave himself over to his
own orgasm, rolling his hips in time with the strokes of his hand to Draco’s shaft to take as much pleasure for the both of
them as they could get.
Harry collapsed across Draco’s back, the both of them breathing heavily. His hand fell slack, his spent shaft softening within
Draco’s body. Draco let out a sated sigh, closing his eyes as he relished the last lingering traces of euphoria. He had never felt
anything so decidedly pure and sinfully decadent all at once. He could feel it to the very tips of his toes, his body practically
sang in satisfaction. Maybe he would have to try it again sometime, though probably not with Potter. Harry was most likely
done with him now. They had gotten their enjoyment out of each other, there was nothing left beyond that. The two of them
were still enemies, fighting on opposing sides of the war. Draco was in line to be a Death Eater and Harry was the savior of
Muggles and Mudbloods. There would be no lasting romance, not as if Draco wanted one anyway.
With a grimace, Draco wriggled out from under Harry’s sweaty body. “As much fun as that was, Potter, I don’t think it
would be wise to lie around on the Professor’s desk all day.” He sneered, taking on his aloof exterior once more, despite the
remnant feelings he had to reach out and stroke Harry’s cheek. Merlin, how he wished someone would treat him like Harry
had today every day of his life. Not the sex, but just the gentle touches, the whispering and soothing words meant to coax him
to relax. It left an ache in his heart to know that no one besides Potter would ever be so decent toward him again. If he should
take another lover, the man or woman would only be out for a simple rut. There would be no gentleness, no sweet words
whispered in his ears. And for that, Draco felt bitter.
He gathered his clothes, ignoring the looks Potter was giving him. He held his breath as pain swept up along his backside,
reminding him of the activities he had just taken part in. No doubt he would be sore for a good few days. Harry had been
Draco shook his head, not wanting to think of that. Instead, he started dressing, wincing now and again as a number of aches
let themselves be known. He ignored it as Harry also went about getting his clothes, throwing them on in a much more
haphazard manner than Draco was doing. As soon as he was modestly covered, his shirt hanging open on his slender frame
and his robes and invisibility cloak tucked under one arm, Harry removed the sealing and silencing charms and left the
classroom, saying nothing more to the blonde on his way out.
The moment the classroom door closed, Draco allowed himself to fall to his knees, hugging his arms around himself. Why
couldn’t he let go of his father’s teachings? Why did he have to act like such a bastard when all he wanted to do was curl up
in Potter’s arms and feel safe? He just wanted to be loved. Was that so wrong?
Taking a few calming breaths, he willed himself not to cry. No, a Malfoy never shed tears. It was a weakness, a foolish
vulnerability that could lead to even more pain. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, willing away the idiotic
wishes of being something more than a fuck toy to the Wizarding world’s Golden Boy. He was nothing - and would be
nothing - more than a rival. It was the way things were.
Suitably calm, Draco finished dressing. He fastened the lid on the jar of calming balm and pocketed it, not truly wanting to
leave any evidence behind of his fling with the Gryffindor. Who knew what kind of tests Snape could perform to find out who
had been using it if Draco just left it behind to be found half-used by the resolute Potions Master. Pulling his wand out, he
waved it toward the desk, cleaning away the evidence of their tryst. He muttered another charm and returned all of Snape’s
items to the surface, leaving them in exactly the same place as they had been before Potter had moved them to the floor.
Once he was certain that everything was back in order, he grabbed his own invisibility cloak and left the classroom, locking it
behind himself. Donning his cloak, he returned to the Slytherin dorm and crawled into bed, shoving his cloak under his pillow.
He simply didn’t have the energy to get undressed. The last thing he did was to close the curtains of his bed and kick off his
shoes. He was weary, tired of everything his life had become. Why couldn’t someone love him or show him a moment of
kindness as Potter had? With a whimper, he buried his face in his pillow, biting his lip to still any cries as he fell into a
relatively peaceful slumber.
The next morning, he awoke to someone shaking his shoulder.
“Sod off.” He mumbled into his pillow, stifling a yawn.
“Draco, breakfast is nearly over. If you don’t hurry, you won’t have time to eat before class.” Blaise Zabini said, shaking
Draco’s shoulder again.
Draco turned his head away from the pillow, facing away from the dark-haired teenager. “I’m not hungry.” He whispered,
drawing his legs closer to himself somewhat. He didn’t feel like eating, or even getting up. All he wanted to do was lie in bed
and mope about his sucky life.
“You feeling okay?” Blaise asked. The mattress shifted, alerting Draco to the fact that Blaise was now sitting on the edge of
his bed. “You don’t normally miss going down to breakfast, even if you aren’t hungry. You always have fun taunting those
jerks in Gryffindor.”
Draco didn’t want to talk. He wanted Blaise to go away. “Leave me alone.” He muttered, grabbing his blankets and pulling
them up over his head.
“No way, Draco.” Blaise sighed, yanking the blankets back. “Who was the one who sat with me when I was sick last
winter? There’s no way I’d let you lay about without telling me what’s wrong.” He grabbed Draco’s shoulder, roughly
turning the blonde over. Immediately, a look of horror crossed Blaise’s features, his eyes roving over Draco’s face and body.
Draco raised his hand, for the first time feeling the swelling in his lips, the blood on the corner of his mouth, the coppery tang
tainting a sore spot on his bottom lip. Honestly, he hadn’t even realized that he had bitten himself so hard. He didn't even
remember when he had, although he knew he had bitten his lip several times when he and Potter had been shagging.
“What happened?” Blaise asked, sounding shocked.
“N-Nothing.” Draco responded, trying to turn away again.
Blaise wouldn’t let him. He grabbed Draco’s shoulders, forcing him to lie still. “You’re lying!” He frowned, reaching over to
the table by Draco’s bed and rummaging around in a drawer. A moment later, he pulled out a gaudy mirror that Draco’s
mother had sent to him - though the blonde didn’t really care for it much - and held it in front of Draco’s face. “Tell me
nothing happened now!”
Draco opened his mouth in shock. His cheeks were flushed, his hair matted to the side of his head, still damp with sweat in
some places. His throat was darkened with bruise-like markings, a few trickles of blood coming from a number of them.
Draco almost smiled remembering how he had gotten those, letting his fingers trail across a few obvious bite marks.
Blaise set the mirror aside, apparently irritated with Draco’s silence. He pushed open Draco’s torn shirt, shoving the material
carelessly aside. Draco didn’t have to look down to know he’d find even more bite marks to his chest and abdomen. Harry
did like using his mouth. However, when Blaise’s hands began working on undoing his trousers, Draco sat upright and shoved
the other boy away, wincing in pain as the abrupt movement made him remember that he'd have trouble sitting for a few days.
Blaise was shaking as he grabbed Draco’s shoulders, his eyes full of worry. “Who did this to you? Were y-you attacked?”
Kindness. Draco almost melted at the look in Blaise’s eyes, the deep concern he saw in those dark orbs. Blaise was truly
worried about him.
Draco couldn’t help it as his lip began to quiver, finding himself quickly lost in his own desperation. To be cared for, that was
all he had ever wanted. And here Blaise was, doing just that. He threw himself at Blaise, shakily circling the other youth with
Blaise took in a sharp breath, holding it as Draco held him tightly. They had never shared anything more than a polite
comaraderie. Draco had sat at Blaise’s side when he was sick, but there had never been any true friendship between them.
They were acquaintances, nothing more than classmates. At the time, Draco had just thought Blaise would appreciate having
someone looking over him when he had been ill. Nothing more had come of it. Blaise spoke with him, but treated him no
differently than any other Slytherin. But, if Blaise cared, did that mean the others did as well? Pansy was often telling him he
should eat better, placing bits of food on his plate during meals when she thought he wasn't looking. And Goyle and Crabbe
were always there, protecting him, though that could just as well be because he was a Malfoy.
“Why do you care?” Draco asked, his voice muffled by Blaise’s chest.
Blaise finally snapped to his senses, winding his own arms around Draco, holding the blonde as if he were a fragile piece of
china, a precious sculpture to be looked at and never touched. “Because you’re my friend, Draco. I care about my friends.”
He took in a deep breath, setting his chin atop Draco’s head. “And whoever hurt you is going to pay dearly. I’ll make sure of
Draco buried himself a little deeper, clenching his fists in Blaise’s robes. “N-No one hurt me.” He said, fearing that he would
be pushed away. No one cared, a sinister nagging voice in his mind kept reminding him. No one really cared about him. And
as soon as Blaise found out the truth, he’d think Draco a whore and toss him aside. Or worse, he’d want to force Draco into a
more physical action, to prove that the blonde was nothing more than a cheap slut who’d spread his thighs for anyone.
“What?” Blaise asked, pushing Draco away slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. “You mean, you . . .”
Draco bowed his head, ashamed and afraid all at the same time. “I . . . I consented.” He looked up suddenly, the fear
overriding everything else. “Please don’t tell my father!” He gripping Blaise’s robes, his knuckles turning white from holding
on so tightly. “Please?” he was shaking again, and he couldn’t stop himself. He was terrified of his father finding out about
this. What would his father say? What would he do if he found out that his only son had allowed himself to be shagged by
some guy? And not just any guy, but Harry Potter of all people. The only thing that could possibly have been worse would
have been if he had shagged a Weasley. The very idea made Draco shudder in disgust.
Blaise’s gaze softened, his hand coming up to cup Draco’s cheek. “I promise, I won’t tell either of your parents.” He said
solemnly. “I won’t even ask who it was that you . . . did.” He frowned. “But I’m guessing it didn’t end well between the two
Draco shook his head, leaning against Blaise again. “He didn’t care. No one does.” Draco mumbled, holding on to Blaise.
“I care about you.” The other Slytherin said firmly, stroking his strong hands along Draco’s back. “If you ever need anything,
you come to me. Or Pansy . . . or Crabbe and Goyle. We all care about you Draco. Not because you’re a Malfoy but
because you’re our friend. We . . . we all worry about you.”
“You do?” Draco sniffled, trying not to cry. He wouldn’t shed tears, no he denied their very existence.
Blaise let out a soft chuckle. “Of course we do. We’ve talked, last Christmas when you went back home for the holidays and
the rest of us stayed behind. We’re all very worried about you. You don’t eat right. You don’t seem to care about anything
like you used to. It’s like you’ve disconnected yourself from everything. We want to help you, but we never knew how to
Draco clamped his hand over his mouth, unable to control it as he let out a stifled sob. “You won’t h-hurt me?” He whispered
against his own palm.
“Never.” Blaise replied without even pausing to think. “We Slytherins have to stick together, because no one else will give a
damn about us.” He sighed, holding on to Draco with care. “Only another Slytherin can understand what it’s like to know that
you’ll be forced to walk in the footsteps of a madman and know that at any minute you or someone you care about could die
just to entertain him, or for failing some foolish errand. Only a Slytherin knows the weariness of living up to their parents’
pure-blooded expectations, to know that their entire lives have been planned out without thought or care as to their own
wishes. Only a Slytherin can understand the suffering of a child neglected by their own parents for the sake of a maniacal old
fool with delusions of grandeur.”
Draco nodded, knowing that Blaise spoke the truth. Who else could understand this? Not Potter. Not Weasley or any of the
others. Slytherins were cast out by the entire school, looked down on as if they were already evil by everyone, including
teachers, save for Professor Snape. And that was because the Professor knew all too well what it was like to be condemned
just because of the house you belonged to, not for your own actions, but for the whim of a speaking hat that chose where you
The two of them stayed where they were for what seemed like ages, neither letting go of the other. It was comforting to be
held. Eventually, Blaise spoke again, his hand stroking along Draco’s hair in a soothing manner.
“Do you want to get up and at least get a shower? I hate to break it to you, but you kinda reek.” He said.
Draco let out a laugh, playfully shoving Blaise away. “What a way to compliment me.” He shook his head. “But yes, I would
like to shower.” He moved to the edge of the bed, wincing as he did so.
“You okay?” Blaise asked, laying his hand on Draco’s shoulder.
Knowing that someone cared about was making Draco feel almost lightheaded. He felt warm and safe, it was a delight to
know he wasn’t alone anymore. “Just a little sore.” He replied. “Okay, quite a bit sore.” He turned to face Blaise and smiled a
little. “You go on and get to class. I think I’ll skip Charms today.”
“Want me to come check on you during lunch? I could bring something up for you.” Blaise offered, nervously fiddling with
the blanket between them.
Draco nodded, smiling faintly. “I’d appreciate that. T-Tell Pansy not to worry about me. Don’t tell her why I’m skipping
class though. I don’t want anyone to know.” He looked down at his hands, suddenly finding them quite interesting.
“You have my word. I won’t breathe a single word of this to anyone. I’ll just let Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle know you're not
feeling well, but that you’ll be fine.” He assured the blonde.
“Thank you.” Draco smiled gratefully, watching as the dark-haired youth stood and left the dorm. “I’ll see you later.” He
said, giving a rather timid wave before Blaise smiled and departed.
It took Draco a good ten minutes to get out of the bed and make his way to the Prefects bathroom. He didn’t want anyone to
see him and think something was wrong with him, so he walked deliberately slowly, trying to limit the amount of pain he
caused his aching backside.
After showering and changing into something much more comfortable - a pair of pajamas and his robe - he returned to the
dorm and his bed. Shedding the robe, he climbed back into bed and went back to sleep.
True to his word, Blaise said nothing to anyone. He kept Draco’s secret and he did it well enough that no one even suspected
he was hiding something from them.
Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle were with Blaise when he came to check on him during lunch. Before they had arrived, Draco had
cast a simple concealing charm on himself to cover up the more obvious markings, the hickeys on his neck and the cut in his
lip. Pansy had immediately come over to him and felt his forehead, saying he did feel a little warm and that he should rest more.
Draco sneered his best, acting like nothing was different. He couldn’t let them know what had happened. He didn’t want them
worrying about him, or turning against him. As the days progressed, the four of them became closer. It made Draco happy to
know that he wasn’t alone any longer. In fact, he felt more at ease now.
Pansy managed to get him to eat a bit more and put on some needed weight. Blaise helped him study. Draco had been
surprised to learn that Blaise was so proficient in Care of Magical Creatures and Charms, two classes where Draco was sadly
lacking in skill. In return, Draco helped Blaise with his Potions. Goyle and Crabbe didn’t act much different, though Draco
learned more about them in a few afternoon conversations than he had in six years of school together. He was surprised to
find that they weren’t as idiotic as he had assumed. He had apologized to them for thinking them as slow-witted as their
fathers were. They had graciously accepted his apology and assured him that they held no ill will toward him, explaining that it
was just safer to appear to be idiots than to show your intelligence all the time. People ignored dumb brutes, but intelligence
Slowly, things returned to normal. Well, almost normal. Draco didn’t berate Potter as he used to, though he still found great
fun in tormenting the Weasel. Draco’s wounds healed, but he ignored Potter for the most part, sparing him only a passing
glance should they meet in a hall. He didn’t want to take the chance of dredging up feelings from that night, didn't want Potter
to blab everything should things get heated between them. No matter how much fun it was to poke fun at Potter’s life, it wasn’
t worth the risk of revealing what he and Potter had done that night.
The days turned into weeks, then a month, passing slowly. A bout of the flu descended on the students and teachers, giving
Madam Pomfrey a hectic amount of work. Blaise and Pansy both came down with it, as did Potter and most of the seventh
year Gryffindors. Draco was no exception, finding himself sick and visiting the nearest lavatory several times during the
course of the day. All that work Pansy had put in helping him to gain some healthy pounds was wasted as Draco repeatedly
expelled the contents of his stomach.
As the days progressed, the other students got better, all except for Draco. No matter what he did, he just didn’t get better. In
the mornings he would rush to the nearest bathroom, trying not to awaken the other boys in the dorm. After breakfast, he’d
have to run again to a bathroom. And again during Potions when the scents of some ingredients would have him turning
green. He tried to keep it from the others, not wanting them to worry, when he himself was terrified that he might be dying.
But dying or not, he couldn’t get up the nerve to visit Madam Pomfrey. If there was something wrong with him, his father
would be informed and there was no way that Draco wanted to get on his father’s bad side, especially if this illness was
somehow his own fault. Maybe he’d made a mistake in Potions class, though he didn’t recall what he could have done wrong.
A month later and Draco was faring no better. It was an accident that got him to finally seek out treatment. Pansy had been
showing off a pair of throwing knives that her father had given her for her birthday when her hand slipped and Blaise’s hand
was the unfortunate victim. He had been walking into the common room at the time, or so Draco had heard a few hours later
when the story was relayed to him, and had waved at the wrong moment. The knife ended up skewering his palm. Instead of
going to the Hospital Wing, as most students would, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle dragged Blaise off to the nearest bathroom to
wash the wound. Unfortunately for Draco, that’s just where he was, currently expelling his lunch.
Goyle had cast a small healing charm on Blaise’s hand and bandaged the healing wound while Pansy kicked in the door to the
stall. She was rather ticked off with Draco for not divulging his illness. Draco had taken such careful pains to ensure that
none of his friends discovered it and his undoing was a simple accident. Pansy roughly dragged Draco to his feet once he had
finished retching and demanded answers. Surrounded by his friends, Draco had no choice but to confess. He had barely
gotten the words out of his mouth before he found himself on his knees again, dry heaving until his throat was raw and burning.
Pansy’s ire dampened by the time he was finished. She delicately wiped his mouth off, drying the tears he had unknowingly
shed. Then Blaise suggested they all take a trip to the Hospital Wing, saying that he might as well get his hand looked at while
he was there. Draco knew a boldfaced lie when he heard one. His hand was fine. Goyle was rather good at healing charms,
and the bandage wound around Blaise’s hand was done with the precision of a qualified medi-wizard.
Still, Draco was too weary to argue, so he consented. Allowing his friends to escort him, he made his way to the Hospital
Wing, worried about the outcome. So here he sat on one of the beds, awaiting Madam Pomfrey’s attention. Blaise had already
been checked over and was told that his hand was going to heal just fine. She’d asked who had bandaged the wound, but
Blaise had cunningly changed the subject to Draco’s failing health. Madam Pomfrey was now gathering a few potions that
would help her examine the blonde.
Goyle and Crabbe sat on a bed facing him. Blaise and Pansy sat on either side of him. None of them budged when Pomfrey
returned and told them all to go back to the dorm. They steadfastly stayed by his side. Draco politely asked the irate medi-
witch if they could stay and keep him calm, citing that he was terribly nervous about his health. That calmed Madam Pomfrey
down right away. She smiled at Draco sadly, nodding her head.
“Of course, dear.” She said, then instructed Draco to lie down on the bed.
Draco did as he was told. Blaise and Pansy got up and moved around to the opposite side of the bed to give Madam Pomfrey
room to work. Standing there at his side, Blaise set his hand on Draco’s leg, offering him support, while Pansy did the same
by clasping his hand.
Draco appreciated it. He was scared out of his mind, certain that his life was in danger. There had to be something terribly
wrong with him. There was no other explanation. He had to be dying.
Madam Pomfrey coaxed him to drink a sickeningly sweet-tasting potion. Draco’s stomach roiled in protest. Thankfully, he
was able to keep it down though. The potion was quick to work, making Draco feel lightheaded as it spread to every cell in his
Madam Pomfrey brought her wand up, muttering a quiet spell as she waved the wand along Draco’s body. She started at his
head, slowly moving it along the length of his body, a quill scribbling away on a parchment in the air beside her, taking down
the results of this examination.
“Now then, let’s see what’s wrong with you.” Madam Pomfrey said, setting aside her wand and taking the parchment in
hand. Her eyes scanned over the results.
When she said nothing, Draco became nervous. Just how bad could it be? He was trembling as he pushed himself to sit up,
watching as the medi-witch’s own hands started to shake.
“Oh dear.” Was the only thing to leave her mouth as she kept looking at that damnable parchment.
“What? What is it?” Pansy asked.
“Am I dying or something?” Draco inquired, hoping that was not the case.
Madam Pomfrey lowered the parchment, her eyes sad as she regarded Draco. “Oh dear, no, you aren’t dying.” She clucked
her tongue. She reached out, awkwardly patting Draco’s shoulder. “It seems you . . . have some Veela blood in you.”
“What?!” Draco gaped, not certain if he had heard right. He wasn’t a pure blood?
Blaise seemed to handle the news much better than Draco had, asking a more pressing question. “How would that make him
sick though, Madam?”
“Perhaps it would be best if we spoke in private?” She offered, speaking to Draco.
Draco shook his head. “No, let them hear.” He felt numb. His world was crashing around him. But nothing could have
prepared him for Madam Pomfrey’s next revelation.
Madam Pomfrey took a steadying breath. “You see . . . Veela males have a rather unique ability.” She paused, as if weighing
her words carefully. “While it’s not unheard of in wizards with the use of potions or other forms of magic though. But with
Veelas it is natural . . .”
“Please, just tell me what it is.” Draco whispered, not sure if he could take much more of her babbling right now.
His heart stopped for a split second, his stomach flipping once more. He could not have heard that correctly. Surely it had to
be a mistake. “No. I can’t be. I’m . . . I’m a boy. Boys don’t . . . they just don’t.” He was shaking again, his mind reeling.
“I’m afraid I’m not mistaken, Mr. Malfoy. You are pregnant and it is a completely natural process with Veela males. You have
a distant Veela ancestor, and that small bit of mixed blood in your heritage has made this a perfectly natural thing. It might
have been centuries ago, but it is still there and it is enough to cause this.” She sighed, showing the parchment to Draco and
his companions. “As you see, you are two months, three days, sixteen hours and twenty-five minutes pregnant.”
Draco blinked, his eyes locking on what seemed to be a clock that ticked away the seconds before his eyes. “Twenty-six
minutes.” He murmured as the clock continued.
“Yes, well . . . you are pregnant.” Madam Pomfrey sighed, rolling up the parchment. “Is one of these young men the father?”
Goyle fell off the bed he and Crabbe were sitting on, while Crabbe shouted out a harsh denial. Blaise merely shook his head
beside Draco. “No.” Draco finally spoke, wanting desperately to get away from here. “The father . . . we aren’t . . .” He
“Oh, well . . . I’d like to schedule regular appointments with you to monitor your condition. Male pregnancies can be
complicated things.” Pomfrey said. “Do you wish to inform your parents of this?”
Draco shook his head. “No.”
“While I think you should inform your family, I won’t force you to. Your condition will be held in the strictest confidence,
though arrangements will have to be made for the future. It isn’t something that can be hidden indefinitely.”
“Yes, I understand.” Draco replied, pushing himself off the bed. “Can I go now?”
“Take this potion. It will help with the nausea.” Pomfrey said, passing a vial to him.
Draco swallowed the contents without a fuss.
“I want to see you first thing in the morning. I’ll need to run more tests to make sure everything is progressing smoothly.”
She said, gently patting Draco on the back as she took the empty vial from his hand.
Draco merely nodded, leaving the Hospital Wing without any notice as to where he was heading. He didn’t even know that his
friends were walking with him, didn’t hear as Pansy pointed out he was heading in the wrong direction to go to the Slytherin
dorm. He just kept walking, his mind going over the news he had just received.
He was pregnant. And there was only one person the father of his baby could possibly be. Harry Potter. Harry Potter had
been his one and only lover. There couldn’t be anyone else. Harry Potter was the father of his baby.
His heart slammed against his rib cage, his breathing growing unsteady as he gave in to his worst fears. His father, he would
be furious with him. He would be disowned at the very least when this was discovered. And there was Voldemort to
consider. This was the offspring of that monster’s worst enemy. Surely, the man would want to kill it, to kill Draco for
defiling himself with Potter’s spawn.
Draco shuddered at the thought, his mind supplying image after image of his own torture, of the death of an infant torn from
his body unwillingly. No, he could tell no one of this. He spun to face his friends, knowing full well that he was shaking like a
leaf. “Please, don’t tell anyone!” He begged, willing to fall to his knees in front of them if it would help.
Pansy threw her arms around him, crying on his shoulder as she held him. “Oh dear sweet Merlin, I would never tell anyone!”
“None of us will, Draco.” Blaise said. Behind him, Goyle and Crabbe nodded their agreement. “We’ll keep your secret as long
as you want us to.”
Draco let out a long relieved sigh, thankful for his friends. At least he wouldn’t be alone in this.
Now that his fear was gone though, a new emotion took its place. Anger. He was angry with himself for allowing Potter to
ravish him, furious at the thought that the stupid Gryffindor had put him in this dangerous predicament. He conveniently forgot
that he had been a willing partner, his bitterness over this matter causing him to place all the blame squarely on Harry Potter’s
Voices approached from around a corner. Draco grimaced, recognizing the voice immediately. Damn that Potter. Gently,
Draco pushed Pansy away from himself, stalking toward the irritating voice. Every laugh that escaped that mouth reminded
Draco of their one night together, reminded him of the condition he was currently in, the danger he was in. Voldemort would
kill him if he found out about this. His own father and mother would delight in watching him suffer under the Cruciatus
Curse. And it was all Potter’s fault.
He turned the corner and came face to face with the startled Gryffindor and his two friends. Blaise and the others ran up
behind Draco, standing far enough back not to interfere in this as Draco vented out all his frustrations in the first way that
came to him.
Ignoring Weasley and Granger altogether, Draco settled his hands on Harry’s shoulders and looked him square in those
perfectly wonderful green eyes of his. Then, with a sneer he spoke. “You bastard!” He hissed vehemently, abruptly bringing
his leg up with all the force he could muster and kneed Harry in the groin.
Harry collapsed to the ground, his hands clasped over his crotch as he curled into a near-fetal position, moans and whimpers of
pain escaping his mouth.
The anger fading from his system, Draco turned and left Harry to his friends’ care, ignoring Weasley’s irate comments and
threats. Goyle and Crabbe kept him back, making sure neither Weasley or Granger got anywhere near Draco, though Granger
seemed more concerned with Harry’s welfare than with hexing Draco at the moment. Pansy and Blaise followed Draco
though, striding along either side of him as he headed toward the Slytherin dorm, feeling so much better than he had a few
He knew now, when his baby was born in seven months, that he would never be unloved again. He would have a precious
little bundle of life that would love him unconditionally and he relished the mere thought of bringing that life into the world.
He'd make sure his child never felt unloved. No matter what happened to him in the future, he would protect and cherish his
child. And he didn’t care if he had to raise him or her by himself. As long as he had his baby, everything would be okay.
Nothing could take his happiness away, not now. For the first time in his life, he was looking forward to the future.