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How Do You Want Me - Chapter 19
Title: How Do You Want Me
Author: Moitness
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Angst, Extreme Physical Abuse, Language, Male Pregnancy, Parenthood/Children, Smut, Yaoi / Slash
Summary: Harry sneaks out of his dorm and runs into the one and only, Draco Malfoy. After Draco gives him an illegal potion, their world is about to be flipped upside down
Disclaimer: Not mine.



The next morning at breakfast, Harry bounded into the Great Hall. He sat down next to Draco without a trace of his attitude the previous day. Harry’s robes were clean and pressed. Usually, he just picked something up off the floor and pulled it on as he ran out the door.

Draco eyed him carefully.

“Morning, love,” Harry said, placing a gentle kiss against the blonde’s cheek.

“Harry, are you feeling okay?”

Harry paused with a syrup and ketchup-covered fork, halfway to his mouth. “I’m fine, why?”

He swallowed the bite and went back for more with relish. The plate in front of him consisted of pancakes, eggs and bacon in a scrambled mess topped with – of course – ketchup and syrup.

Draco delicately avoided looking at the plate. “I just want to make sure you’re not still mad at me about last night,” the blond ventured.

After taking a swig of pumpkin juice, Harry set his mug down and took another bite. He avoided Draco’s gaze carefully the entire time.

“We have an exam in Potions today, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Draco waved a hand distractedly. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“I’ll have to cram in some study time at lunch,” Harry said, pointedly ignoring Draco’s question a second time.

Draco sat back in his chair, observing his boyfriend. Harry, finally realizing he was being watched, looked up.

“Want some?” he asked.

“No,” Draco replied, not bothering to hide his revulsion.

The week passed in a similar fashion. Draco would try to talk about ‘the incident’ and Harry would quickly change the subject. When Draco tried to talk to Ron about Harry, the redhead dismissed him.

“Harry hasn’t been this happy all year. You’re the reason he’s in such a good mood. Enjoy it.” Ron walked away, leaving Draco to his own thoughts.

Draco sighed in frustration. Harry might appear to be happy and healthy, but his boyfriend knew better. Something was boiling just beneath the surface and it was only a matter of time before he popped.

Harry seemed happy and content as February dawned. The first Friday was conveniently a week before Valentine’s Day. Everyone was busy arranging their Valentine’s gifts. That morning, Draco was absent from breakfast. Harry elected to sit at the Gryffindor table instead. He helped himself to his usual ketchup and syrup concoction.

“Hungry, mate?” Ron asked, in a tight voice. Even the toughest iron stomachs curled in the presence of Harry’s cravings.

Harry just smiled through his food.

Ron shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“Post is here,” Hermione announced, pulling her friends away from Harry’s breakfast as a package landed in front of the emerald-eyed boy.

“Who’s it from?” Seamus asked, excitedly, leaning across the table.

Harry fingered the sparkling gold ribbon holding the otherwise plain-looking package closed. He ran his fingers across the edges of the quaffle-sized box gingerly. “Probably Draco,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

The Gryffindors around him leaned in close to see what gift Harry would reveal. As he peeled back the paper, a burst of smoke blasted into Harry’s face. He tried to shield his eyes, screaming. Nobody could see him through the smoke, but it was clear he was in pain.

“Get him to the infirmary!” was heard dimly over the sound of Harry screaming. This his world went black.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, registering bits and pieces. At one point, he thought he saw Christopher Rhyahni sitting next to him. Then the image changed. It was Draco instead. Harry groaned and fell back asleep. The line between his dreams and what he was really seeing was terribly blurred.

Madame Pomfry filtered in and out of his vision, Harry was sure of that. She was there too often to be his imagination. A particularly disturbing moment, however, involved Rhy. The image was too vividly close to his nightmares to be real.

Rhy was dressed in a black cloak that covered him from neck to toe. “Harry, you’re awake,” he gushed, falling to his knees.

“Rhy?” The boy in the bed blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Rhy set a hand down on the bed gently. Harry appeared so fragile in all the sterile white hospital clothes, one touch seemed powerful enough to crumble it all.

“I have a confession to make,” Rhy started, licking his lips nervously. “I’ve been,” he coughed, pausing in the story, “following you.”

“What?” Harry’s tone was incredulous. He sat up too quickly and fell back against the pillows.

“Harry? Harry,” Rhy repeated his name in concern.

Harry’s vision swam and he turned his head in hopes of escaping the echoing voice. He covered his face with a hand to shield from the noise.

“Harry, are you okay?”

Harry cracked an eye and the blurry image above him was white blond. “Draco?” He squinted up at the shape. His glasses were pressed into his hand and he put them on gratefully.

“Jamie is fine,” Draco said, before Harry could ask. “How are you feeling?”

Harry sighed audibly in relief as the clear image of his boyfriend swam into focus. “A little,” he cleared his throat to relieve the raspy tone from lack of use. “A little queasy.” He looked up at the familiar ceiling of the hospital wing. “What happened?” he asked, turning his attention back to the blond. “The last thing I remember is being in the Great Hall,” he frowned. “Then I had a really weird dream.”

“What about?” Draco asked, pulling a chair closer to the bed.

“Nothing important,” Harry answered quickly. “Now, tell me what happened.”

Draco took a deep steadying breath. “Somehow,” he motioned with his hands in a futile attempt to explain the mess. “Someone found a way to send you a box of burning powder. It blew up in your face.”

Harry’s hands automatically flew to his cheeks and forehead. “Am I okay?” he asked in a small voice.

“You’re fine,” Draco reassured, carding a hand through the dark locks. “You’ve been out for two weeks, but it gave Pomfry time to reduce the scarring.”

“Scarring?” Harry threw his head back in despair. “Just what I need. Another scar.”

“Just look,” Draco insisted, conjuring a small mirror. Faint white streaks brushed each of Harry’s cheeks. “You should be grateful. The marks were deep gashes when I brought you in here.”

Harry looked over the top of the mirror at Draco. “You brought me here?”

Draco nodded. “Nobody else wanted to get close to you.”

“I’ve been in here for two weeks?” Harry asked, rolling onto his left side, facing Draco.

Draco nodded.

“That means I missed Valentine’s Day.”

Draco chuckled and shook his head, causing a few strands of blond to fall in his eyes. “You didn’t miss anything exciting, love.”

“No,” Harry laced his fingers through the ones resting on his bedside. “But this is the first time I had someone to spend it with.”

“You did spend it with me,” Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “You were asleep, though, so you don’t remember it.”

Harry, content with the information, snuggled down into the sheets and drifted back to sleep, the fingers of his right hand laced through those of Draco’s own.

Harry was released from the hospital wing later the next day. Pomfry didn’t mention th extra scars on his arms, and for that Harry was grateful. Draco had thoughtfully brought Harry’s Christmas jumper from Mrs. Weasley that the brunette sank into with relief as he pulled the sleeves down past his knuckles.

It wasn’t until Harry was carefully situated in Draco’s bed with the blond spooning him from behind, that Draco breeched the subject of Harry’s dream.

“So what shook you up so badly about that dream you had?” Draco asked nonchalantly, rubbing his fingertips up and down Harry’s arm.

Harry stiffened. “It was just a nightmare,” he answered, shrugging.

“It must have been some nightmare to have you acting like this.”

Harry rolled over and buried his face in Draco’s bare chest. “I don’t want to talk about it. It was just a bad dream,” he said, before closing his eyes.

Draco knew better than to pry and allowed himself to fall asleep as well.