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How Do You Want Me - Chapter 22
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.



Draco stood up from the table. He walked to the door, around his bed, and back to the table. Finally, he sat back down across from Harry. Placing his chin in his palm, he said, “Okay, who is it?”

“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Draco said, shaking his head.

“Then I can’t tell you.” Harry pushed his plate away. “I’m not very hungry any more.” He took a long sip of pumpkin juice and set the glass down on the table carefully. “I’m rather tired. Could you just tell me what you set all of this,” he gestured to the table decorated in food, candles and flowers, “up to tell me?”

Draco threw his hands up. “I talked to Granger, okay! You need to get some help before you’re either killed or you kill someone!”

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up. “Who am I going to bloody kill?”

“I don’t know,” Draco mocked, standing up as well. “Maybe yourself or our unborn child!”

“Fuck you,” Harry said in a deadly quiet voice, before disappearing out the door.

“Harry, wait!”

By the time Draco got up and round the table and out the door, Harry was already gone.

When he ran out of Draco’s room, Harry went to the first place he could think of in his blind rage.

“Professor!” he called, pounding on the door. “Please open up!”

He gave one last futile knock with his open fist. Turning around, he slid down to the floor. The door opened and Harry jumped up in surprise, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand.

“Potter, you had better tell me what you are doing knocking on my door when we both know you should be in the Great Hall with the rest of the students.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry raised his chin defiantly. “Can I at least come in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Snape narrowed his eyes. Nonetheless, he stepped aside to allow Harry entrance to his office.

“I need your help, Professor,” Harry started, walking into the room only far enough to allow Snape to shut the door.

“I already told Mr. Malfoy that I will not assist the altering of your psyche until you are no longer with child,” Snape answered smoothly.

“It has nothing to do with that,” Harry snapped. “I don’t want you in my head anyway.”

Snape’s lip curled into a sneer. Harry never saw him draw his wand. “Ligiliemens!”

Harry was shoved into the chair behind him with the force of the spell. Instantly, the two of them were sucked into Harry’s memories.

A dark room. Strong hands had Harry pinned face-first into the wall. The body of his captor was much larger and kept him pinned efficiently. The only sound in the dark room was Harry’s harsh breathing through his nose. His scarlet and gold Gryffindor tie was being used as a makeshift gag.

“Don’t move, Potter.”

A whispered word and another tie, this one streaked in blue, held his hands up over his head. The large calloused hands rucked his blouse up around his armpits before smoothing themselves down the expanse of tanned skin. Harry squirmed in futile effort to rid himself of the touch.

“So eager.”

Harry’s movements stilled as the hands slid farther down to unbuckle his belt.

“This won’t hurt,” the voice said, as Harry’s trousers fell to the floor with a thunk. A small whimper escaped his bound mouth.

Hot breath on the back of his neck was the only warning Harry got before he was spread open and a blunt tip prodded his entrance. The intruder slid all the way in and Harry let out a muffled cry of anguish.

After a few tight thrusts, a hand made its way from Harry’s hipbones to his uninterested member. The captor buried himself within Harry’s body before stilling his movements completely. A couple strokes and Harry was up to full hardness.

“That’s it, Harry,” the voice said, timing his thrusts with his strokes.

With a strangled cry, the captor spilled himself within Harry’s body moments before Harry reached his own climax, as silent tears coursed down his cheeks. The man behind him gave one final thrust before untying his hands and spinning Harry around.

As he re-knotted his around his neck, Christopher Rhyahni regarded Harry with a calm look.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you wouldn’t want Draco,” the name rolled off Rhy’s tongue as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, “to find out his pet Gryffindor came with another man’s cock in his arse.”

The image shifted.

“Hey Golden Boy!” Draco called.

Harry spun around, eyes lit. He rushed forward, burying his face in Draco’s shoulder without an explanation.

“Whoa,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around the shaking Gryffindor. “What happened?” he asked, leading Harry down the hallway to a private alcove.

“He made me strip down, Draco,” Harry mumbled into the blonde’s robes. “He saw my new cuts.” Harry looked up, as tears made tracks down his reddened cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Draco swiped at the tears gently with his thumb.

“Don’t make me go back there,” Harry pleaded.

The images faded and Harry was once again sitting in Snape’s office. He looked up wide-eyed at the Potions Master.

“Why did you do that?” Harry asked, his voice on the edge of breaking.

“I. . .” Snape trailed off, his sarcastic comments for once at a loss. With his wand held limply in his right hand, he sat down in the nearest chair. “You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. Potter. That was completely out of line.”

He cast his eyes downward, an act of submission foreign to his dark features.

“Please don’t tell Draco,” Harry requested softly. “He doesn’t know.”

Snape looked up in surprise. With a sigh, the professor wiped the obsidian hair from his eyes. “Am I correct in assuming that I am the only person who knows what transpired between yourself and Mr. Rhyahni?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Sit, Potter,” Snape said, pointing to the chair in front of his desk.

Harry sat.

“We must go to the Headmaster at once,” Snape began.

“No,” Harry replied vehemently, shaking his head. “I’ll deny every word you say.”

“Potter,” Snape tried again, “I cannot allow one of my students to be terrorized by another student, despite my,” his lip curved, “opinions.”

“I. . . I’ll tell him myself,” Harry managed.

Pursing his lips, Snape regarded the boy in front of him. “Despite my hardest efforts, I know you better than that. You’ll no sooner tell the headmaster than confront Mr. Rhyahni yourself. No, I think we’ll go see him right now.”

Harry suddenly jumped up out of his seat. “Finite Incantatem!” he shouted, rolling up the sleeves of his robes. “Have I mentioned that I cut myself?” he sneered. “Or that I’m pregnant?” Harry gestured to the now-visible belly beneath is robes. “And before you ask - no it’s not Rhy’s. It’s Draco’s.”

Snape had to fight to keep his face calm. Instead, he stood up and poured himself a measure of fire-whiskey. He threw it back before pouring himself another, which he drank just as quickly. After composing himself somewhat, he reclaimed his seat in front of the Gryffindor.

“Why did you come here, Potter?” Snape asked, folding his hands on the desk.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered, flopping back down in the chair. “I had a fight with Draco.”

Narrowing his eyes, Snape retorted, “I am not here to council you about your relationship problems with my godson.”

“That’s why I cam here.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“I knew that you, more than anyone, would give me your honest opinion without sugar-coating anything.” Harry paused. “Granted, I didn’t expect to tell you quite as much as you found out.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape closed his eyes. “I feel a headache coming on. Could you please get to the point in all of this?”

Harry wrung his hands nervously. “I wasn’t expecting to tell you any of this,” he took a deep breath. “Rhy didn’t act alone. His accomplice wanted - wants Draco.”

At the mention of Draco’s name, Snape sat up straighter. “Who is after Draco?”

Harry looked down at his lap.

“Pansy Parkinson. They were betrothed before all this,” he said softly and the whole story came tumbling out. “It started with Pansy. Funny, she was trying to kill me.”

Harry was looking off in the distance, an odd look on his face.

“But then Rhy got involved. Dumbledore had assigned him to - search me - every day to ensure I hadn’t cut myself. One day, he happened upon an episode between Pansy and me. They made a deal. Pansy would stop trying to kill me if Rhy would get me away from Draco. Ever since, he’s been - touching me - in an effort to seduce me.” Harry fell silent and once again lowered his gaze to his lap.

“You must think I’m some kind of slag.”

Instead of answering Harry’s assumption, Snape said, “stand up, Potter. We’re going to speak with the Headmaster.”

“No!” Harry jumped up, meeting Snape’s narrowed eyes. “Just let me tell Draco first. I don’t want him to have to hear it from somebody else.”

Snape stared at Harry for a long moment. “Very well,” he said, nodding. “I shall expect you and Draco at my door at precicely 10 o’clock, or I shall proceed to the Headmaster’s office alone. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry answered.

When Harry got back to Draco’s room, the Slytherin was sitting on his bed with a muggle fag hanging from his fingertips. He took a long drag and let it out slowly before he looked up and saw Harry standing in front of him.

“Harry,” he breathed, snubbing the fag out. “I didn’t think you were coming back.” Nervously, he slid his palms down the lap of his slacks.

Harry moved from the doorway to stand in front of his boyfriend. “I just needed some time to think.”

“About what?”

Harry took a seat on the bed. “Nothing you should worry that pretty blonde head about,” Harry said, tucking a strand of flaxen hair behind Draco’s ear. “I’m tired and I’m tired of fighting. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Draco answered, standing up. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Actually,” Harry replied, kicking off his shoes. “I’d like to stay here tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Draco answered, dropping his pack of fags as he hastened back to the bed.

Sliding beneath the soft heather sheets, Harry regarded Draco with a calm smile. “You’re acting as though we’ve never spent the night together.”

“Not after a fight,” Draco answered, crawling beneath the sheets as well.

“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.” Harry murmured. Rolling onto his side, he requested, “Just hold me, Draco.”

With a soft lumos, Draco embraced his lover and closed his eyes.

Harry awake with a start at daybreak, breathing heavily. Sitting up, he wiped at his sweat-drenched brow. He looked over at Draco, who was sleeping peacefully next to him. He leaned down and kissed the blonde boy gently on the fore head.

Standing up, Harry crossed the room to the bathroom. He closed the door gently and stood still for a moment to assure Draco was still asleep. Confirming that the Slytherin hadn’t stirred, Harry stretched his arm up above the mirror.

His fingers closed on the object of his searching. Pulling his hand back to himself, he now held a broken shard of Sirius’ mirror.

“Please forgive me, Draco,” he whispered. “You’re going to hate me later either way.”

Draco woke a couple hours later when Harry crawled back into bed.

“Where were you?” Draco asked, opening his sleepy grey eyes.

“I got up to get some water,” Harry answered, pulling the duvet up over himself. “Stupid me dropped the glass and it shattered on the floor. When I bent down t pick it up, I sliced my palm open.” He lifted his hand to show Draco the bandage.

Draco nodded out of obligation. He closed his eyes and pulled Harry’s uninjured arm around his body. “Be careful next time, baby,” he said, clearly still sleeping.

“Draco,” Harry purred into the blonde’s neck, “you need to get up.”

Draco nodded without opening his eyes.

“Seriously.”

Harry untangled himself from Draco and pulled the duvet completely off the bed. Draco groaned, curling into his silk pyjamas.

“Draco!” Harry shouted, “Snape is here and he’s not happy about seeing you in your knickers!”

Jumping up, Draco sought Snape out wildly. His eyes fell on Harry, who was barely containing his laughter at Draco’s wild appearance. Scowling, Draco stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door.

“I love you too, sweetheart!” Harry called.

A grunt from behind the door was his only response.

While Draco showered, Harry busied himself with getting dressed and making the bed to keep his mind of the conversation he and Draco were about to have. When Draco finally emerged in a cloud of steam Harry was sitting on the bed, wringing his hands nervously.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, draping his towel over the hook on the bathroom door.

“Sit down, Draco.” Harry kept his eyes on the other boy. “I need to tell you something very important.”

Without his usual sarcastic remarks, Draco sat down and allowed Harry to take his hands.

“Christopher Rhyahni and Pansy Parkinson are the people who have been following me.” As calmly as he could manage, Harry began telling Draco the story he told Snape the previous day. When he finished, Draco pulled his hands away and just sat there, staring at nothing.

“Are you going to say anything?” Harry asked quietly.

“What do you want me to say?” Draco shouted. He stood up, facing away from Harry.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered, tracing patterns on the duvet with his fingertips. “I’ll go then.”

As he stood up, Draco turned around to face him. The aristocrat’s face was red and his cheeks were slick with tears. Upon seeing Harry, his red-rimmed eyes filled once more. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he choked out wrapping his arms around the brunette.

Harry melted into the embrace, allowing the tears to fall from his own eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco kept repeating.

They held each other until the sobbing subsided. For Draco, it was finally coming to an end. However, for Harry, the rest of his life was just beginning.