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How Do You Want Me - Chapter 23
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.



Snape was waiting or Harry and Draco when they ventured to his office just minutes before ten o’clock. He regarded them with a hard stare.

“Shall we?” he asked, without a hint of amusement.

Harry nodded.

“Hello boys. Severus,” Dumbledore said softly, giving them each a nod. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Sit, Potter,” Snape said, taking a chair on the other side, so the Gryffindor would have no escape.

Draco sat as close to Harry as possible, trying to impart a small measure of reassurance.

“Professor, Harry has been harassed by a couple of students here at Hogwarts for the past five months,” Draco started.

“Graceful, Malfoy,” Snape muttered.

Dumbledore either ignored the Potions Master or failed to hear the comment. “What do you mean? Who has been hurting you, Harry?” the older wizard asked quietly, turning his calm blue eyes to the only Gryffindor in the room.

Harry looked up at the Headmaster over the rim of his spectacles, before lowering his eyes once more to his lap.

“Christopher Rhyahni and Pansy Parkinson. . .” Harry recounted the tale he had told Draco earlier, although he left out a few things that weren’t very pertinent to Dumbledore’s version of the story.

When he finished, Harry sat straight up in his chair and raised his eyes. He shrugged a shoulder indifferently. “That brings the three of us here.”

Dumbledore nodded once. His normally calm eyes were filled with a fire that Harry had never seen before.

“Very well. Severus, I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.”

“Of course, Headmaster.”

“Severus, I‘m sure you would be obliged to escort Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter back to their dormitories?”

“Of course, Headmaster,” Snape answered smoothly.

“Good,” Dumbledore said. “You are dismissed.”

As they left the office, Harry could just make out the sound of a firecall. “Bring them to me. . .” The door clicked shut.

Snape left Harry and Draco with a short nod. “I trust, Draco, the two of you can find your way back to your rooms without my help?”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco answered, taking Harry’s hand once more.

Snape’s eyes flicked downward, but he said nothing. “Good day.” He turned down the corridor and left the couple to their own devices.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, nuzzling his cheek against the top of Harry’s head.

“I want to lie down,” Harry ans2ered, leaning against the taller boy. “Let’s go to my room.”

Draco stepped back to look at Harry. “Are you sure? What about your roommates? And the other Gryffindors?”

“They’re all in Hogsmeade.” He gave Draco a shy smile. “Besides, you’ve never been in my bed before.”

“You cheeky ponce,” Draco answered with a smirk.

Harry led Draco to Gryffindor Tower in silence.

“Slytherin stinks,” Harry said to the Fat Lady.

Draco raised an indignant eyebrow.

“Ron’s idea,” Harry answered, beaconing Draco through the portrait.

Looking around the scarlet and gold common room, Draco gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Not too shabby, Potter.”

However, Harry wasn’t listening. He was already halfway up the staircase.

“Come on, Draco,” he said, his tone betraying his body’s fatigue.

The Slytherin obliged, following Harry up to the sixth year dormitory.

“This is it,” Harry said, allowing the door to swing open into the empty room. “Five beds, five trunks, five blokes. Nothing special.”

“You’re showing me the place where you’ve wanked every night for the past six years and you say it’s nothing special?” Draco scoffed, pushing past the Gryffindor. He turned around and squealed with glee. “I’ll bet this one is yours,” he sighed, flopping down face-first onto the gold-threaded duvet.

“That’s Ron’s bed,” Harry answered, with a hint of amusement, as he laid himself down on his own bed.

“Oh, you think you’re funny?” Draco asked, jumping up.

“Oh yes.” Harry grinned up at the blond.

“I’ll show you funny,” Draco countered, jumping onto the bed, careful not to pin any of his weight on the smaller boy as he began to tickle him mercilessly.

“Oh, Draco, stop!” Harry yelled out through his laughter. “Ouch, Draco! I’m serious!” he cried, as he bandaged hand was caught in the crossfire.

Draco immediately pulled himself up and off Harry, afraid he had injured the baby somehow. “Are you okay?” Draco asked, his hand hovering over Harry’s belly nervously.

Harry just shook his head as he sat up, trying to catch his breath.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Draco apologized, rubbing a hand down Harry’s back.

“I’m okay,” Harry answered, leaning back against Draco’s shoulder. “Just don’t let it happen again,” he chided.

Once Harry caught his breath, he laid down on his bed, curling into Draco’s warm body. They slept like that until the other Gryffindors came back from Hogsmeade.

“Blimey! Harry’s got a bloke in his bed!”

“It’s not a bloke, it’s just Malfoy.”

“Malfoy is still a bloke.”

“Okay then, Harry’s bloke.”

Harry groaned and squinted his eyes open. “This is why I stopped sleeping in here.”

“We forgot to close the curtains,” Draco sighed into Harry ear.

“Leave off, guys, Harry doesn’t feel well,” Ro admonished, throwing Harry’s curtains closed, bathing the couple in darkness.

“That’s better,” Draco whispered, nuzzling his face into the hollow of Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m going to be sick,” Harry whispered, throwing Draco’s hand off himself. He stood up and dashed out of the room as fast as his body would allow.

“I thought they called it morning sickness,” Draco muttered. He tentatively stepped out of Harry’s bed, full prepared to face the onslaught of the sixth year Gryffindors. Fortunately, only Ron was left in the dorm.

“Where did they all go?” Draco asked the redhead, who was reading a Quidditch magazine on his bed.

“Dunno,” Ron answered, flipping a page.

Draco nodded. He began to fiddle with the cuff on his robes when it became apparent that Ron wasn’t going to make small talk until Harry came back. “Has Harry said anything to you about Rhyahni or Parkinson?” he finally blurted out.

This time, Ron had the decency to lower his magazine. “No, why?”

Draco glanced at the doorway. “I probably shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”

Ron’s ginger eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You can’t very well stop now.”

Draco looked to the door once more before sighing deeply. “The short version is this: Rhyahni and Parkinson teamed up to break Harry and me apart. I’ve been betrothed to Parkinson since before I was born.”

He waved Ron’s stunned expression away.

“Trust me; I’m not marrying that cow.” He continued, “Anyway, Rhyahni thought that he could seduce Harry’s affections out of him. What he wasn’t counting on was Harry’s abusive past.”

He raised an eyebrow at Ron’s red face.

“What are you planning to do, Weasley? Track Rhyahni down and hex his bullocks off?” Draco smirked when Ron pulled a face. “We’ve already been to Dumbledore. When he’s finished, then I will hex Rhyahni’s bullocks off.”

Ron’s reply was cut short as Harry chose that moment to re-enter the room.

“Feel any better, love?” Draco asked.

Harry gave him a half-shrug in response.

“Are you going to dinner, mate?” Ron asked.

“No,” Harry replied, clutching his stomach. “Any mention of food is going to send me straight to the loo.”

Ron shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m starved.” He made his way to the door, but stopped and turned around with his hand on the knob. “How about you, Malfoy?” he asked, as an afterthought.

“No, thanks,” Draco smiled politely. “I’ll just stay here with Harry.”

Ron gave a small wave before he allowed the door to click shut behind him.

Draco turned to Harry, who was staring at him quizzically.

“What?”

“You and Ron are getting along. Who died?”

Despite himself, Draco let out a laugh at the serious look on Harry’s face. “Aren’t I supposed to be chummy with my boyfriend’s best mate?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You and Ron have hated each other since you met in first you. So, no, you aren’t supposed to be chummy. What happened Malfoy?”

“Calm down,” Draco soothed, trying to prevent a dangerous mood swing. “We just started talking about Quidditch when you ran to the loo.”

“Quidditch?”

“Just Quidditch.”

Dumbledore summoned Harry and Draco to his office the next morning after breakfast. Harry hadn’t eaten since the previous morning, but he’d thrown up twice. Draco chalked it up to nerves ore than the pregnancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this right now?” Draco asked, on the way up to the Headmaster’s office.

I don’t have a choice,” Harry answered gruffly. He led them up the stairs after a sighed, “acid pops”. Upon entering the office, Harry was faced with two Aurors from the Ministry, and Cornelius Fudge himself.

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head as he backed away from the men.

Draco caught him in his arms. He took the Gryffindor’s hands in his own and used the advantage to wrap Harry’s arms around his own body, effectively pinning him to Draco.

“Relax, Harry. They’re just here to help.”

Harry shook his head. He struggled in Draco’s grasp, but finally gave up when he realised Draco wouldn’t relent.

“I think we’ll just stand, Professor,” Draco told Dumbledore, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

Fudge cleared his throat nervously. “Right then,” he said, twirling his bowler in his hands. “We are here to collect a statement from Mr. Potter. All we need is to have him verify the information Professor Dumbledore has given us. Under Veritaserum, of course.”

“No potions.”

All eyes turned to Draco, who gave him a wide don’t-fuck-with-me smile. “Surely, you could just evaluate his memories, Sir?”

“Memories can be tampered with, Mr. Malfoy.” Fudge talked down to Draco as though he was speaking to a very small child. “The effect of Veritaserum is flawless.”

“With all due respect, Sir,” Draco retorted, “Due to the fact that Veritaserum is both odourless and colourless, how are we to trust the validity of a potion you claim to posses?”

Fudge’s lip twitched. “I’ll thank you, young man, not to question my authority as Minister of Magic.”

“And I’ll thank you Minister, to produce a consent form sighed by Harry’s guardians to allow the administration of Veritaserum. He is only sixteen.”

Fudge’s face turned a deep shade of puce as he was bested by a student less than half his age. Flustered, he slammed his lime bowler down on his absurdly round head. “We’ll be going now, gentlemen,” he told the accompanying Aurors.

“Good day, Headmaster,” Fudge said, before disappearing with a sharp crack.

The Aurors disappeared right behind him.

Once they were gone, Harry appeared to melt into Draco’s arms. “Thank you,” he said, breathing a great sigh of relief.

“A hand very well played, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said softly.

“My father has been teaching me wizarding law since I was in grammar school.” Draco shrugged indifferently, releasing Harry. “’Malfoys are always prepared’ was my mantra growing up.”

“Sound advice,” Dumbledore agreed, nodding. “Are you all right, Harry?”

“Yes, Sir,” he answered.

“Good.” Dumbledore pursed his lips. “I’ll send for you later, but you are both dismissed for now.”

When they were outside the door, Draco took Harry’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Harry smiled up at him and squeezed his hand back.