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How Do You Want Me - Chapter 29
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 court room was no different than the last time Harry had been in the Ministry. The Wizengamot were seated high above the lone chair that sat on a raised dais in the middle of the room. Fudge was sitting in the very front seat, looking like he had swallowed something less than pleasing to his palate.

Harry was ushered to sit along the far wall, where the spectators were allowed to watch from. In this case, the only people present were the people pertaining to the trial. That included Harry, of course, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfry and Draco.

Rhy and Pansy were escorted into the room once everyone had gotten settled. They were both dressed in grey Ministry-issued robes. Although at seventeen, the two should have been tried as adults and held at Azkaban, they were pardoned from that fate and held under Ministry custody at Dumbledore’s request. The wrists were bound with magic, preventing any movement.

The trial was not conducted like a muggle trial. Witnesses were not called, unless the Wizengamot felt it necessary. The defendant’s chair was widened magically to allow for Rhy and Pansy to sit together. An Azkaban guard, both wizards, stood on each side of the pair.

“Christopher Rhyahni. You have been charged with the rape and assault of Harry Potter. How do you plead?”

“Guilty, Sir,” Rhy answered softly, his eyes downcast, unable to meet those of his father, who sat with the other members of the Wizengamot. As far as he was concerned, he had made it clear before the trial that he no longer had a son.

The members of the Wizengamot nodded to each other.

“Pansy Parkinson. You have been charged with the assault of Harry Potter and the attempted murder of his unborn child. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.” Pansy answered defiantly.

Harry gripped the arm of his chair tightly. Draco reached over and placed his hand atop Harry’s, trying to convey some comfort without being obvious. Harry’s grip on the chair relaxed slightly, but his body posture remained rigid.

Above them, the wizengamot were whispering quickly amongst themselves. “Silence,” the minister ordered, a loud bang emitting from the tip of his wand.

“Pansy Parkinson, are you aware that there are three witnesses, in addition to Harry Potter himself, that have testified, under magical oath, that you did, in fact, assault Mr. Potter by threatening him numerous times verbally, attempting to drown him, throwing him down a flight of stairs?” Fudge asked, drilling the girl with his eyes.

Pansy managed to remain arrogant, despite the grave situation. She sat up straighter in her shackles and glanced at Rhy before speaking to the Wizengamot. “It was Christopher’s idea,” she harrumphed.

The flurry of whispers began again amongst the members of the Wizengamot. This time the Minister allowed the talking to continue for nearly five minutes before he banged his gavel to silence them.

“Christopher Rhyahni. You have pleaded guilty to sexually assaulting Mr. Potter. Is it true that you have also convinced Miss Parkinson to participate in your elaborately macabre scheme?”

Rhy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His eyes roamed over the many adults staring down at him from their perches. “I have pled guilty to many things today, your honors, but I will not falsely admit to convincing Pansy of anything. In fact, she is the one who tricked me into her little scheme.”

As he finished, Rhy allowed his eyes to rest on Harry for just a moment. The Gryffindor shrugged and looked away, as though he was physically shrugging Rhy’s gaze off himself. He leaned in closer to Draco, and the blond boy wrapped his arm around his boyfriend.

“Well, now,” Lucius Malfoy spoke up, from his position near the back of the Wizengamot.

Harry did a double take and his face jerked to the left, looking at Draco. His look clearly said, I didn’t know your dad was a member of the Wizengamot. The look on Draco’s face was full of confusion. Neither did I, he mouthed to Harry.

“Ms. Parkinson, you were betrothed to my son, Draco, up until recently, were you not?” Lucius asked, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Of course, I was!” Pansy squeaked indignantly.

“Right,” Lucius continued. “And you love my son, don’t you, Ms. Parkinson?”

Pansy gave him a look of disbelief. “Of course I love Draco! Why do you think I had to get Potter out of the way? It‘s not my fault Rhyahni was so bad at seducing him!”

With Pansy’s admission, the noise level in the room hit a fever pitch. Lucius Malfoy sat back in his chair, a smugly arrogantly look on his aristocratic features. Similarly, Draco sat next to Harry, trying his hardest to conceal his smile of triumph.

The Minister banged his gavel loudly on the bench in front of him until the room once again quieted. All eyes were focused intently on him, as his decision was imminent.

“Pansy Parkinson, the court finds you guilty of attempted murder of Harry Potter and his unborn child. You are hereby sentenced to twenty-five years in Azkaban.” The wizards and witches in the room collectively held their breath as they waited for the rest of the decision. After a pause, Fudge said, “Christopher Rhyahni, the court finds you guilty of the rape and multiple counts of sexual assaults to Harry Potter. The court sentences you to fifty years in Azkaban. Dismissed.”

As Pansy and Rhy were taken away, and the courtroom began to empty, Draco gave a loud whoop and hoisted Harry up off his feet, ignoring the look of irritation on the slighter boy’s face. “It’s over, baby,” Draco whispered into Harry’s ear with conviction.

“I just want to go home, Draco,” Harry answered, his face drawn and pale.

“Of course.” Draco offered Harry’s arm and turned to lead them out of the courtroom.

“Draco.”

The couple turned around to find Lucius Malfoy standing there. Harry visibly started and shrank back from the man. “Yes, father?” Draco asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

“I wanted to apologize to you and,” he paused, “Harry.”

Harry shrugged a shoulder, looking down at his feet, unwilling and unable to meet Lucius’s eyes.

“Draco, your mother wasn’t pleased with my - actions. Then the Ministry asked me to serve on the Wizengamot, and I was faced with facts I wasn’t ready to accept. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Harry is your fiancé and as your father, I should have respected that.” In true Malfoy form, however, he quickly left the boys before they could respond to his apology.

Draco gave Harry a questioning gaze. Harry just shook his head. “I’m tired,” was his only reply.

A week and a half later, April bled into May and Harry began his thirty-sixth week of pregnancy. A weekly visit to Madame Pomfry confirmed that Harry had now filled out to his full weight and he only had four short weeks to go. His small frame had rounded out and he looked like he was hiding more than just a quaffle underneath his robes.

Due to his discomfort nearly all the time, Pomfry also ordered him on strict bed rest for at least twelve of his waking hours. Draco tried to make the best of it, but Harry kept alternating between tears and anger. Finally, Draco managed to get his hysterical boyfriend into bed and settled under Draco’s green duvet and grey sheets.

“I have class with McGonagall in 10 minutes. Will you be okay until I get back?”

Harry rolled his eyes. He had managed to prop himself against the pillows and was defiantly not going to fall asleep. “I’ll be fine. What do you think, I’m some kind of invalid or something?”

Draco silently counted to ten before answering. The last thing he wanted was to upset Harry any further. “I’ll be back in an hour, love.” Dropping a kiss on Harry’s forehead, he left the Gryffindor and headed to class.

An hour later, Draco pushed open the door to his room and dropped his books on the floor. “I’m home, love,” he sighed, pausing in between untying his boots to glance at the bed. Harry lay sprawled out across the bed, looking like he was sleeping better than he had in months, which was probably true. He opened his eyes and stretched his arms over his head, yawning deeply, “Hi.”

“How do you feel?” Draco asked, pulling his boots off and tossing them next to his forgotten books on the floor.

“Better,” Harry shrugged, rolling onto his side.

“Are you hungry?”

Harry scrunched up his nose, thinking for a moment. “Actually,” he stared past Draco, deep in thought, “yeah. I am hungry.”

Draco’s eyes lit up. It had been a struggle through this entire pregnancy to get Harry to eat a decent meal. He usually pushed his plate away after three bites. Even Pomfry was beginning to worry that Harry hadn’t gained enough weight. She had started to slip him vitamin supplements under the guise of helping him sleep.

“Okay.” Draco hurried back into his boots. “What do you want? What ever you want, I’ll get it. Sheppard’s pie? I know you love that stuff? Or how about some chicken? Do you want it grilled or roasted? Never mind, I’ll bring both.”

“Slow down, Draco. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

“Well, what do you want?” Draco asked impatiently.

“I don’t know,” Harry said slowly, rolling over onto his back once again. “How about some pumpkin juice?”

“Great. Pumpkin juice. Got it. What else?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Draco’s eyebrows shot up underneath his fringe. “Just pumpkin juice? I thought you were hungry.”

Harry shrugged again.

“Fine. Just pumpkin juice,” Draco sighed.

He turned to leave the room when Harry called out. “Draco?”

“Yes, love?”

“Will you bring me a chicken sandwich, too?”

Draco smiled broadly. “Of course.”

Three glasses of pumpkin juice and two chicken sandwiches later, Harry was full and Draco was satisfied now that Harry was full. The Gryffindor was relaxing against a mound of pillows while Draco rubbed his sore swollen feet.

“You better be careful.”

“Hmm?” Draco looked up. “Why?”

“Because I could get used to this,” Harry grinned.

“Good,” Draco said, releasing Harry’s feet so he could crawl up next to him on the bed. “I want you to, because you deserve it.”

Harry was silent for a moment. Then, “Have you noticed anything different about me lately?”

Draco’s stomach instantly clenched. His mouth went dry and he had to swallow several times before he was able to answer. “No,” he nearly stuttered, “I haven’t.”

Again, Harry was silent for a few minutes. Draco idly ran his fingertips over Harry’s bare arm, trying to coax the words out of him. After what seemed like an eternity to the blond, Harry spoke again.

“I haven’t cut myself since the night before the trial.”

It took everything Draco had not to react instantly to the words. He counted to ten silently and took several deep breaths. He didn’t know if it was worse that Harry had cut himself only a week prior, or the fact that he was still cutting at all.

“Oh,” was all he was able to manage.

“I didn’t hide it,” Harry said, almost casually. He rolled up the sleeve of the silver and green jumper to show Draco the series of scabbed x’s stretching down the length of his forearm. They were each only about an inch in diameter. Draco counted sixteen in all. One for every year of Harry’s life. One for every year Harry had suffered abuse. Draco held his breath.

“You counted them.” This statement was not a question. Draco nodded dumbly in reply.

“Do you know what they stand for?”

“Sixteen years.”

Harry smiled. It was a genuine smile, but it did nothing to ease Draco’s fears. Nor did it make him feel any less uncomfortable about the situation and the conversation.

“Close, but no.”

Draco waited for an answer, but it never came.

“You’re done with classes for the day, yeah?” Harry asked, turning into Draco and burying his face in the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Draco answered idly.

Harry drifted off to sleep, in a few short minutes. Draco, however, stayed awake for several agonizing hours until he finally gave up and untangled himself from Harry. He walked out of the castle and down to the lake. It was only about half seven. The sun was just beginning to set and the colours looked beautiful across the calm surface of the water.

Sitting down on the bank, Draco pulled out his pack of fags, lit one with his wand tip and took a deep drag. He exhaled the smoke slowly, allowing it to linger for a short time. He sat and smoked three fags in a row, lighting each new one on the dying embers of the previous.

“Harry,” he sighed, flicking the last one towards the lake, before he stood up and headed back towards the castle.