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2002

“I think I’d like a boy,” Harry pronounced, the day Draco and he had begun trying for a baby.

Draco and he hadn’t long finished a session of afternoon lovemaking and the pair of wizards lay entangled in their bedsheets, their bodies lax, lazy and blissed out. “Mmm. Can you imagine how handsome he’ll be? With your hair and my green eyes?”

Draco smiled up at his husband. Potter always got so talkative in the afterglow of his orgasm. Harry was always an affectionate, gentle man but there was a sentimentality to him when he was post-coital that Draco was very fond of. Harry’s eyes were soft- even misty- and Draco knew that his beloved was imagining their future-son in every detail.

“He’ll probably have my awful eyesight but there’s a spell for that, isn’t there, love?” Harry continued, his voice full of wonder. “I’m just too bloody lazy to cast it each morning… And he’ll have your smile. And your nose, obviously. He wouldn’t be a Malfoy without that-”

Draco rolled over onto his side and curled his sweat-damp body close to Harry’s side. He ghosted his fingers over the thick thatch of hair between his husband’s pecs and ran his thumb over a familiar nipple. Draco could map the lines and shapes of Harry’s body far more easily than his own.

“You don’t get to pick,” he reminded Harry, leaning over to brush a kiss on Harry’s flushed cheek. “And besides, I think that I’d quite like a girl. Only son of an only son, remember? Mother would be overjoyed to get a little granddaughter to dress up-”

Harry snorted at that image, and turned his body to face Draco’s own. He cut into Draco’s words with a series of light kisses.

“Stereotyping much?” Harry asked after several moments. He shifted slightly and pulled Draco a little closer into his body. “If our baby was a she, then she might enjoy playing Quidditch and visiting the Dragon Sanctuary more than playing dress up and going to fancy tea parties.”

“And I suspect that your boy might enjoy those activities too,” Draco agreed with a laugh. “Anyway, like Pans says, the gender our baby is born with might not be the one that they keep for the rest of their life. It’s just a starting point for helping them work out who they want to be. It doesn’t matter to me who our baby is, Potter. Boy or girl. As long as they’ve got your kind heart-”

“And your intelligence,” Harry cut in, nuzzling the soft skin of Draco’s throat.

“Oh, absolutely,” Draco agreed, sliding his arms around Harry’s trim waist. “That goes without saying. Whomever they are, we’ll both love them with everything we’ve got. They’ll never have been a wix baby that was more wanted.”

~*~*~

Harry and Draco’s much loved, much wanted baby didn’t happen for them though.

Draco didn’t get pregnant during the first month, even though the pair of wizards had still been intoxicated with the exhilaration of doing away with their contraception and had been sneaking off whenever they were able.

They’d never ever made love so often, even in the first heady days of their relationship. Potter seemed to find the idea of Draco carrying his baby to be quite the aphrodisiac.

Draco didn’t get pregnant during the second month, even though Draco had started taking phials of Folic Acid and making tiny, almost unrecognisable marks on the calendar.

It wasn’t anything that he was worried about though and he certainly wasn’t about to go causing Harry any undue pressure. His and Harry’s baby would be supported by magic, and Draco knew that often meant a little more trouble conceiving. Draco understood that it took most couples a few months and he was willing to persevere even though patience wasn’t a virtue that came easily to him.

But sadly, Draco didn’t get pregnant during the third, or the fourth month either.

The wizard felt frustrated. It wasn’t that Harry and he were old. They were only twenty-two, so time was definitely on their side.

It didn’t help that fruitful, fecund couples seemed to surround Draco at every turn.

Blaise and Astoria were newly pregnant, while Greg and Millie had just had a baby too. Theo and Pansy already had given birth to Altair. The two year old wizard might have been Draco’s beloved God-son but the wizard didn’t put it past Parkinson to announce out of the blue that Altair was getting a new baby sibling in a matter of months.

Draco wasn’t jealous of his friends in the slightest but he couldn’t help but hope desperately that it would be his turn soon.

Harry and he both had a lot of love to share and Draco wanted to carry his husband’s baby more than anything else on Merlin’s earth. Draco didn’t get pregnant during the fifth or sixth months of trying and it felt barely fair.

They were both very healthy: Harry was the Deputy Lead Auror and had to pass rigorous medicals and Draco tried to go to the Ministry gym at least three times a week. Draco tracked his basal temperature everyday, jotting down the figures into a notebook with a special green quill. He was fanatical about taking his pregnancy-supporting potions at exactly the same time each day too.

It wasn’t like Harry and he were missing the window of opportunity. They were hitting Draco’s most fertile days, each and every month, yet it seemed to be making very little in the way of impact.

It didn’t seem to matter which charms Draco cast, which constellations he prayed to or even which sexual positions Harry and he tried. Nothing made a difference.

Draco had even tried drinking a thimbleful of Felix Felicis before sex three weeks before, a trick that would have caused Harry the utmost annoyance had he have realised. It was lucky Potter hadn’t noticed. Draco had found an old wallet, with a dozen galleons inside, shoved behind the settee an hour later but he hadn’t gotten the baby he had really wanted…

“Circe, Draco. I’ve been stood beside you for five minutes,” came Pansy’s voice, rousing Draco from his worrying daydreams. His best-friend leant over and brushed kisses on both his cheeks. “You’re entirely lost in your thoughts, darling. I haven’t seen you this preoccupied since our bloody fifth year.”

Pansy pursed her shiny red lips at the memories of that awful time and then sat down across the cafe table from Draco.

She slipped off her blue silk jacket and checked her fringe in a tiny hand mirror before speaking again. The Chocolate Cauldron Cafe was thrumming with folk which suited Draco entirely. It meant that nobody was looking in their direction or listening into their conversation.

“Utterly fantastic to see you too,” Draco replied with the smallest hint of a smirk. His words carried no heat though. It was marvellous to spend time with his platonic soulmate and it felt like an age since the two of them had enjoyed a proper talk. “How is Altair?” Draco asked, motioning for the Elf-Waiter to come and take their order. “I hope you’ve brought a dozen photographs with you, Parkinson. Children change so much when they’re little.”

“Of course I have,” Pansy replied, giving her handbag a nod. “Though it’s not been two minutes since you saw him at the Granger-Weasley’s picnic party. You’re hardly deprived, Malfoy.” Pansy paused as their Elf-Waiter rushed over to their table, a mini-parchment roll and quill in hand. “I’ll have a coffee- cream with just one sugar, I think- and a slice of lemon cake? And you, Draco? What can I get you?”

Draco scanned the menu with a frown.

“I’ll have a green tea,” he told the Elf. “And a fruit salad. Can you hold the cream through?”

The Elf nodded, smiled and then he vanished with a click of his fingers. Pansy raised her eyebrow at Draco’s order. She was a clever witch and Draco hadn’t been able to keep a secret from her since he was eight and they had both been violently in love with Marcel, Draco’s French second-cousin.

“You are aware that you’ve basically just ordered a bowl of cut-up apple and banana? That’s what Mifty makes up for Altair's nursery snack-box.” Pansy paused and readjusted her napkin. “The Treacle Tart here is utterly legendary, Malfoy. I really think that you ought to partake.”

“So I’ve heard,” Draco replied shortly, settling back into his seat. “But I’m trying to cut down on my sugar and caffeine.” He patted his non-existent belly and sighed. “Not that it’s done me much good thus far. Another month and another negative pregnancy test, Pans! I thought we were doing everything correctly, but-”

Draco broke off his sentence awkwardly. He knew that he could tell Parkinson absolutely anything but there was still a part of him that hated admitting any kind of imperfection or failure. He bit his lip and felt his face flush a mortifying red.

Pansy took hold of his hand across the table and knotted her fingers through his own.

“It’s been six months now, hasn’t it?” Pansy asked, her voice kind. She was the only person in their friendship circle that Draco had told about his and Harry’s attempts to conceive but she would never have asked unless Draco had brought the subject up first. “And you’ve been following all the instructions that Mediwix Blake at St. Mungos gave you? You do know that it took my Cousin Francis months to conceive with his husband because he wasn’t tracking his most fertile days-”

“I’ve been tracking,” Draco cut in quickly, not wanting to hear any tall tales of success while he was so blatantly failing in his mission. “And yes, I’ve been taking my potions! I’ve been eating right, exercising every sodding day and I haven’t had a glass of fucking Merlot for almost a bloody year Pans! I’m not sure what else I could possibly do-”

Draco stopped speaking as their Waiter appeared before their table in a puff of sparkling green magic. The Elf levitated his bowl of fruit over where Draco was sat.

Pansy was right. Plain apples and bananas did look incredibly tedious in comparison to Pansy’s scrumptious looking cake. His best-friend must have caught him looking, for Pansy ordered another slice and promptly sent the Elf on his way.

“You’re having some bloody dessert, Malfoy” Pansy replied, her tone brooking no disagreement. “You’re as skinny as you were when you were seventeen, sweetie, so I’m practically positive that it’s not your diet that’s stopping you conceiving.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee and gave Draco a half smile. “It took Theo and I three months to get pregnant, Draco love, and even then I was starting to consider a visit to St. Mungos. Might I speak delicately?” Pansy asked.

“Even if I said no, it wouldn’t stop you,” Draco smiled. “It never has before.”

“Six months is a long time,” Pansy said cautiously, “especially if you say that you’re doing everything right. I think that you should take Harry to get examined as well. He went through some horrendous experiences in the War… All of wizarding Britain has heard the rumours of what happened in those woods that night, Draco.”

The wizard was silent as the Elf returned, bearing Draco’s slice of lemon cake. He placed it in position before Draco with a tiny nod of his head. Draco thanked him before scooping up a spoonful and chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the tart, sweet taste in his mouth. Draco had denied himself treats for far too long and it felt great to finally indulge himself. The idea that Harry might be part of the reason that they weren't conceiving had honestly never occurred to Draco before.

Draco knew a little of what had happened the night of Voldemort’s final demise, but Harry had never wanted to tell him every detail.

“It’s not who I am now,” he had reassured Draco. “What happened in those woods doesn’t define me. You define me, Draco. This life we have made together defines me.”

It stood to reason that magic might be the answer to their fertility issues. If his and Harry’s difficulties were from some hex or curse originating from the War then the only place that it might be cured was the St. Mungos Department of Paternal Healing.

“I’ll send Mediwix Blake an owl when I get home,” Draco said after a few minutes had passed. “Ask him to send us an appointment by return post. As always, you’re utterly correct Pans. No point sitting here dwelling when Harry and I could be finding ourselves an answer.”

~*~*~

Draco’s hand clutched hold of Harry’s tightly.

There was very little that Draco disliked more than attending appointments at St. Mungos. His Father hadn’t ever let Mother or he be treated at St. Mungos when he was younger and any family maladies had been dealt with privately, away from prying eyes.

Healers had always visited the Manor and a discreet bag of galleons had always changed hands before Father had cast memory charms. To Lucius, hospitals had implied weakness- had implied that you were broken- and that was something a Malfoy could never be.

Draco didn’t feel used to St. Mungos the way that other wix did and he felt intimidated by the waiting room and the pale, whitewashed walls. Draco couldn’t abide the unashamed stares of the other patients, all of whom were all excited to see their Chosen One sat with them in the waiting room. Harry had always coped with the public interest in their lives far better than he had.

Draco could never understand how cold the Department of Paternal Healing always seemed to be chilly either. The casting of a warming spell was hardly a challenge! Draco shivered and pressed himself tightly into Harry’s side. Potter wore a big knitted Weasley jumper and he radiated heat. Draco couldn’t help but cuddle into all that lovely warmth.

Draco hated the helplessness of feeling vulnerable. He hated the old magazines, the posters on the wall and hated the other, visibly expectant wizards all sat with their doting husbands and partners beside them. He wanted so much to be part of their number.

Draco craved that with a longing that he’d never experienced before. Galleons and influence had always been the Malfoy currency but if something was broken inside Harry or himself? Something that might not be curable with all the gold in his vault? Draco couldn’t bear to even think about that idea. He twisted his wedding ring around his finger and sat hunched in the chair.

Draco was terrified about what Mediwix Blake was going to say to him and his husband. Both Harry and he had suffered through a multitude of different tests earlier that afternoon, each of them uniquely mortifying, and now they were sat, waiting for the results amongst the ancient copies of Witch Weekly.

Draco willed himself not to cast another Tempus. Draco knew that it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since the last time he had magicked a clock dial but every minute felt like an eternity.

“Why is it taking so long?” Draco hissed into Harry’s ear. Nerves always made his voice posh and prickly-sounding and Draco hated it. It was a defence mechanism from when he was younger and at least Harry understood that he couldn’t help it. Harry squeezed Draco’s fingers reassuringly. “Merlin,” Draco continued. “I’ve a good mind to ask the Receptionist precisely what the hold up is-”

Draco’s diatribe cut off as Mediwix Blake came into the waiting room, a thick file full of notes held beneath his arm. “Draco and Harry Potter-Malfoy,” he announced, giving them both a professional glance. “If you could both come along with me?”

The pair of wizards were ushered down a short corridor and into a small office. The walls were painted a pale cream and there were swirling modern art prints on all four walls. They were instructed to sit in two comfy seats beside a large wooden desk that took up much of the room.

It was all very tasteful and Draco felt his heart sink slowly into his shoes. This wasn’t anything like his Mediwix’s regular room, where a dozen pictures of fat, healthy babies adorned the pinboard and posters about eating healthy and exercising were charmed to the walls.

This room was far more tastefully put together. This felt like a room reserved for bad news. Draco felt his mouth go dry and his heart begin to speed up. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to hear whatever Mediwix Blake had to say.

Draco tried to read the man’s expression but failed entirely. Draco supposed that Healers were taught to keep their expressions neutral. Perhaps it was something that they were taught at medical school. He watched as Mediwix Blake leant forward over his desk and gave the two of them a solemn, serious look.

“I’m sorry that the two of you have been waiting a while,” Blake said, opening the file gently, “but at least we’ve got some answers for you both to digest.”

Draco could feel the cloying tension radiating from Harry sat beside him and he supposed that he looked equally anxious. He could feel the speedy tick of his pulse and see the quavers at the edge of his vision that normally signified a migraine was starting.

All of a sudden there didn’t seem to be quite enough air in the room or enough oxygen in his lungs.

“I’m afraid we’ve discovered that there are a couple of complications that might make it more difficult for the pair of you to conceive,” Mediwix Blake said without any more preamble. “Mr. Potter? I’ve taken a look at your medical history. It seems that after the War you suffered from magical fluctuations? Bursts of magical ability that were far stronger than the average wizard are able to achieve? The part of you that had been Voldemort’s Horcrux had repressed the natural development of your own magical cortex.”

Draco felt his husband’s demeanour shift from worried to defensive. Harry hated being reminded of the difficult first few months that had followed the War, and how lost and injured he’d been.

“Voldemort was five bloody years ago,” Harry snapped out in reply. His jaw was clenched and his lips were tight. “And if you’ve looked at my medical history then you’ll know that the Healer here worked bloody hard to help me get those fluctuations under control.”

Mediwix Blake looked down at the file. “Yes. You worked with Healer Adams over in Therapeutic Magic? I firecalled over to his office this afternoon and we had a lengthy discussion-”

“You talked to Healer Adams?” Harry interrupted, his voice surprised. He crinkled his nose in displeasure. “But Adams signed me off. Said he was satisfied my magical cortex had stabilised enough to perform everyday magic without the fluctuations affecting it too much.”

Draco looked over at Harry. His beautiful husband’s face was clouded with upset at Blake’s words. Potter was still the consummate Saviour- determined and kind- and Harry was far happier solving problems than he was being told he was the cause of them. Mediwix Blake’s words weren't sitting well with Harry at all.

“But, like it says here in your notes Harry, seventeen years as a Horcrux were always likely to have long-term ramifications.” He pointed at a highlighted sentence in the parchment file. “Adams and I were of the opinion that your magical cortex might still be fluctuating on a cellular level and, if that is the case, then the magical bond required to bring a magical pregnancy to fruition is much less likely. Your child’s conception would be the result of a literal fusing of your magical signatures during intercourse and if your magic is unpredictable-”

Draco gasped at Mediwix Blake’s words and Harry looked absolutely broken. “So what does that mean for us?” Harry cut in quietly.

Draco felt ashamed. He could hardly bear to look up from the floor. It’d been his family- his very own Father- that had supported He Who Should Not Be Named into power. That Voldemort was still wreaking devastation upon Harry’s body after all these years was a grotesque travesty. He felt Harry’s fingers tense beneath his own.

“It means that your changes of conception are reduced.” Blake replied, his voice soft but professional. “As you both know, Mr. Malfoy’s status as a Pureblood person brings a series of difficulties all of its own. Most of the Sacred Twenty- Eight families are very closely related over several generations which means that there is a limited gene pool. I wasn’t overly concerned before I knew about Harry’s additional difficulties. Pureblood heritage can make it harder for a wizard to get pregnant.” The Mediwix pushed his glasses up his nose before he continued speaking. “Now, it’s not impossible for the pair of you to have a baby but I do think it might be harder for you two than most.”

Draco felt like he was watching the conversation in front of him in a Pensieve. He could hardly credit that Blake had just given the pair of them such awful news.

It felt ridiculous that the sun outside the window should continue to shine and that white, wispy clouds kept rolling across the horizon. It felt like the universe’s perverse joke. His and Harry’s world had stopped dead so why should the rest of the world continue to exist?

Mediwix Blake closed the file and passed a piece of parchment over to Draco. “Despite the complications there are still avenues open to the pair of that I would encourage you to explore. Healer Adams has confirmed that every avenue of treatment has already been explored for yourself, Mr. Potter, but there is a fertility boosting potion for Mr. Malfoy that we could begin today.” He nodded across to the paper in Draco’s hand. “I’ll give the pair of you a minute to have a little discussion.”

Mediwix Blake left the room and Draco read the leaflet quickly.

The Fertilitatem Curatio looked harmless enough. Mugwort was one ingredient, as was Rosehips and Star Anise. Wiggentree bark and Moly flowers gave the fertility potion its magical base.

“I think I want to try it,” Draco said as he handed the information over to Harry to read. “There isn’t much in the way of side effects except a bit of nausea and weight fluctuation… I could put up with those.” Traitorous tears prickled in the corner of Draco’s eyes and he turned his head to look at his husband. “I’d like to begin taking the potion as soon as we can.”

Harry’s jaw was set and his eyes were very dark. There wasn’t even the merest tremor in the hand that held Draco’s own so tightly and Draco felt a little shattered by the fact.

Harry was holding himself together for Draco’s sake. Harry, who had spent his whole life looking after other people. Harry, who was brave and loving. It was a privilege to be married to him.

“None of this seems fair,” Harry said eventually, his tone thick with emotion. He cast his eyes over the leaflet with red-rimmed eyes. “We’ve both paid our dues, Draco! We deserve to be happy too! Having a family seems to come easily to everyone but us! Ron and ‘Mione… George and Angelina. Even Luna and bloody Rolf.” Harry shook his head and pulled in a deep, shuddery breath. He took a few minutes reading all the information on the leaflet. “I love you, Draco,” he said eventually, “and I know that there’s no question of you not taking these potions. Whatever you need. I’ll support you every way that I can.”

When Mediwix Blake came back into the room a few minutes later Draco spoke first. “We want to begin immediately,” the wizard said firmly as Harry placed a soothing hand around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Please. Having a family is important to the both of us.”

Blake nodded. “I think that you’re both being very wise,” he replied, ringing a little bell on his desk. “The effect of the potions is cumulative so the sooner you get started the better. My Elf-Assistants will have a month’s supply of Fertilitatem Curatio owled over to your home tomorrow but I’ll send you home with a phial to take this evening. Take it every night, just before you go to sleep.”

Draco watched the Mediwix go to his cupboard and fill up a small bottle with a translucent liquid. “It has a slight scent of almonds but otherwise it is practically tasteless,” Blake said, placing the small glass bottle into Draco’s waiting hands. “I’m going to write you a prescription that covers you for the next year-”

“You really think it’ll take that long?” Harry cut in.

“I wish that I could give you an answer,” the Mediwix said. “There simply aren’t any guarantees in cases such as yours, gentlemen. Like I said before, the potion is cumulative so while you can still attempt to get pregnant, the reality is that it’s doubtful that you’ll see any results before six months have passed.” He smiled sadly. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the bearer of better news. If you feel like you need somebody independent to speak to then I can recommend our counselling service.”

There was very little to be said after that. Mediwix Blake shook both wizards hands and wished them the very best of luck.

“Just be sure that you keep talking,” he counselled, walking them back to the Receptionist. They were going to book an appointment to come back in eight months to check if there had been any progress. “You two seem like a strong couple. I hope that everything works out for you.”

~*~*~

2005

“No improvement at all?” Pansy asked after three long years had passed.

The witch bounced Ariadne on her knee. Her two year old daughter was all Theo, both in looks and temperament, and Draco knew that the baby witch was very close to crying with all the noise and commotion surrounding the three of them.

Draco held out his arms to take his God-daughter for a couple of minutes, hoping to enjoy a sneaky cuddle and let Pansy have a minute of respite. Draco nuzzled Ari’s still baby-soft hair for a moment before he replied.

“No change in my fertility levels for a whole year,” Draco said.

He reached over with his spare hand and took a small swallow of the icy Butterbeer that Hermione had given him only minutes before. It was the date of the Weasley-Granger’s annual picnic party and all around them children played, shouted and laughed wildly.

“Mediwix Blake say that the body can become acclimatised,” Draco explained, “and then the magic loses its potency. I’ve been on the Fertilitatem Curatio three years now. It isn’t doing anything.” Draco pressed a kiss onto the top of Ariadne’s head. “Truthfully, though Parks? I think that our Mediwix has lost his faith in us. He’s making noises about stopping treatments altogether.”

“And what does Harry say about that?” Pansy asked, nodding over towards Draco’s husband. Harry was stood beside the pool with a Muggle beer in his hand.

Harry’s hair looked wilder and more unkempt than ever and, much to Draco’s bemusement, he had chosen to wear a luminous Hawaiian shirt.

Draco followed his best-friend’s eyes and smiled fondly at the sight of his beloved. Their marriage was still very strong and the two men were still very much in love.

Harry was laughing loudly at one of Ron’s tasteless jokes. As always he was the life and soul of the party. No one would ever guess at the anguish and heartache the two men had suffered these past three years. Both wizards hid their shared pain well, even from their closest friends.

“Potter just wants the best for me,” Draco replied. “Doesn’t want me to damage my body taking powerful potions when there isn’t much of a chance of them working.” He took another mouthful of the sweet Butterbeer and savoured the taste. He wasn’t quite as rigorous with his diet any longer and often shared a bottle of Merlot with Harry over their dinner. “But I’m twenty-five. Male fertility drops off a cliff after thirty anyway… I’m going to keep taking the potions until I’m forced off them. I don’t think that I’m ready to give up on having children of our own, not just yet.”

~*~*~

2007

Two more years passed and Draco slowly began to acclimatise to the simple truth. Harry and he were childless and seemed destined to remain so.

The pair of them had made the heartbreaking decision that five long years of potions, rituals and charms was quite enough for any couple to endure. The potions contained potent magical ingredients and their Mediwix had warned that their continued use was beginning to risk damaging Draco’s heart. It was finally time to stop their regime. Draco gulped his last phial of potion and then he vanished the bottle with a sad little twist of his wand.

There was nothing left now but an empty shelf in their potions cabinet.

Harry had sat on the side of the bath and watched, too choked with the enormity of their loss to speak.

The pair of wizards never talked about the what-ifs of their unborn child any more.

They never laughed over whose House their baby would have been sorted into or wondered whom they might take after in their character or what subjects they would have excelled at in school. Harry and he had long ago turned their spare room into a repository for Draco’s old alchemy books and Harry’s spare Quidditch kit.

It was easier, somehow, than having it stood empty, waiting for a baby that both wizards had long realised wasn't going to be a part of their life stories.

Both men had the love of so many children in their lives. Harry was a brilliant Godfather to Rose, Ron and Hermione’s daughter. She was two but already every bit as fiery and clever as her mother. Draco had no doubt whatsoever that she’d follow her mum into the Ministry one day in the far away future. Pansy and Theo were the proud parents of Phillipe, their newest: a gorgeous and healthy second God-son for Draco.

It seemed to Draco that every year the annual Weasley picnic party was louder and more rambunctious, full of the shouts and screams of dozens of tiny wix.

Harry was everyone's’ favourite uncle, always up for a game of tag or pick-up Quidditch but the sight always made Draco wistful. His husband had deserved a happy ending more than anyone he had ever known.

Each Beltane night, Draco and Harry would take a trip to the Avebury Stone Circle. The archaic pagan site wasn’t many miles from Malfoy Manor and Draco held the site close to his heart. His parents had brought him here as a child and Draco had always considered it a sacred space.

Ancient witches and wizards had held their rituals there and millennia later the site still coiled and thrummed with their immortal, arcane magic.

Each year the pair of wizards would cast a bevy of notice-me-not spells around the perimeter of the stones and then lay down a tribute of wild flowers as a tribute and shrine to the Goddess of the Spring.

“We ask for your blessing upon us,” Draco would murmur and press his hand against the sun-heated stone, the incantation stolen from an ancient text in the Manor library, written on parchment nearly as old as wizardry itself. “As seeds spring forth and grass grows green and winds blow gently and the rivers flow and the sun shines down upon our land, we offer thanks to you for your blessings and your gifts of life each spring.”

Harry would always come and stand beside Draco as he said the incantation. He would press his hand over Draco’s own and the pair of wizards would let the vibration of ancient magic dance through their bodies. For a moment both wizards were at one with the millennia of magical folk that had come before them.

“I don’t care if they’re a boy or a girl,” Harry would add, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away. Beltane was the only date that Harry ever let Draco see the true depths of his raw craving for a family of their own. “I don’t care if they’re a wix or a squib. Goddess, please. We beg of you. We implore you. Bring us a baby to love.”

~*~*~

2010

It wasn’t many weeks past Draco’s thirtieth birthday and the wizard wasn’t feeling at all like himself.

At first, Draco had thought that he had a touch of food poison but Mother had reasoned that couldn’t be the case. After all, Harry had eaten everything that Draco had and the bespectacled Auror was still as fit as a bloody ferret.

Then Draco had decided that he’d caught a case of the Spattergroit but the symptoms didn’t quite match up. The exhaustion and sickness was right but Draco was still able to talk and- thank Merlin!- no purple pustules had erupted on his face.

Draco reasoned that his fatigue might perhaps have been caused by the sudden change in the weather but, whatever the cause, the wizard couldn't seem to catch up with himself. The midsummer heat hadn’t really affected Draco before but he supposed that he was getting older. He wasn’t the sprightly nineteen year old that Harry had married any more.

Everyday Draco felt a weariness around two p.m. that called for a sneaky nap on his desk at the Apothecary. Millie had caught him more than once, rolling her eyes at the sight of him snoring away in the back-office.

“I’m still dying,” Draco had informed Pansy a week later.

He was sat beside the fireplace in his and Harry’s living room. Harry had gone for a pint with Ron at the Leaky Cauldron but Draco had cried off, claiming not untruthfully that he wanted an early night. Draco was wearing his favourite silky green pyjamas and feeling exceedingly sorry for himself.

“I’ve felt nauseous all day,” Draco continued. His best-friend’s face, formed out of the sparking green flames of a firecall didn’t change one iota. Draco loved Pans with his entire heart but she wasn’t generally the most sympathetic of witches. “I’m bloody dying,” he clarified, his voice rough. “Whatever bug had chosen to invade my guts hasn’t decided to shift yet. I’ve never felt this ill in my life.”

“I highly doubt you’re going to die,” Pansy replied through the fireplace. She gave Draco a cautious look, appraising him through the flames. “But I have to admit that I’m worried about you darling. Poorliness isn’t at all like you Draco.” She paused and took a demure sip from her teacup. “I’ve been talking to Mils. She said you spend half your time at the Apothecary rushing to the toilet and the other half fast asleep-”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Draco interrupted. He was half-annoyed with Bulstode for gossiping about him, and half-pleased that his friends cared so much.

Pansy wasn’t going to be put off from her speech. “And Milly said that you work through your dinner hour. Said you roll your eyes whenever anyone asks how you’re feeling. Said that you’ve been getting sick from the smell of your potions. She’s worried which means that I have to be worried. Worry gives me lines, which you and I both know is not remotely bloody acceptable.”

“You’re as beautiful as were when we were sixteen,” Draco replied, laying his head against the seat of the settee. It throbbed terribly and he felt a little light-headed. Draco hadn’t felt up to eating his dinner which had concerned Harry a little bit. His husband had wanted to send Ron an owl to cancel but Draco had told his husband to go. “I’m genuinely poorly, love,” Draco continued. “Nothing wants to stay down and every sort of food is unappetising, and yes, before you ask that includes Lillibet’s Bread-and-butter Pudding. She gave me some yesterday and it smelt just awful.”

Pansy laughed at that. “If you’re rejecting puddings made by the Malfoy House Elves then you’re emphatically not shirking,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve thrown out everything questionable in your larder? Just to be safe?”

“We certainly have,” Draco agreed, feeling a little judged about their housekeeping. “Harry threw out the contents of the kitchen yesterday. The bugger is still fighting fit though.” He yawned before he carried on speaking. “Potter thought that perhaps my stasis magic was off earlier in the week but today I was sick again.”

Draco wrinkled his brow, recalling his dive into the toilet at work. Godric’s balls, that had been the height of embarrassing. With a flick of his wand Draco aimed a breath-freshening charm at himself.

“Then you need to go see your Healer,” Pansy replied, finally sounding at least a smidgen sympathetic. For a mother of three, Pans was the least-maternal person that Draco ever met. “Preferably before Saturday, Malfoy. You and Harry said that you’d babysit Phil, Ari and Altair while Theo and I attended Mother’s magical creature fundraiser. You don’t have to though, lovely, if you’re feeling too miserable. I can always owl Nott’s younger sister.”

Draco shook his head, Accio’ing a bottle of fizzy water from his desk across the room. He took a sip before he spoke again.

“No, don’t ask Kate,” Draco said, masking a small yawn with the back of his hand. He was entirely sure that he’d have shook whatever this was by then. “I’m not feeling too awful now and I haven’t seen the babies for ages. I miss them.” He grinned at his best-friend. “You can’t deprive me of my godchildren Pans. That’d be inhumane even for a witch like you.”

Pansy laughed at that comment. She knew that full well that Draco loved his Godchildren immensely.“And they miss their Uncle Draco too,” Pansy said. “Okay. If you’re sure then I won’t ask Katelyn. I meant what I said, though. Go and see your Mediwix if you’re feeling rough, Draco. You’re not normally one to get poorly, darling. Even when you had the Mufflemumps you shook them off in no time at all.” She tilted her head to the side and Draco through his friend looked every bit as lovely as she always did. “You must know that we love you- Millie, Theo, me- we worry. You and Harry have been through a lot.”

Draco yawned once more. As soon as their firecall was over he was planning on crawling between his bedsheets and surrendering himself to the welcoming arms of sleep. He could scarcely wait.

“It’s just a bug,” Draco replied, taking another sip of water. The horrible taste of his last bout of vomiting still lingered in my mouth, even though Harry had said repeatedly that his breath was perfectly fresh. “It’s probably some Muggle bug that I’ve caught from walking around bloody Tescos.” He gave Pansy the brightest smile he could manage. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll have shook this off too by the time I see you at the weekend. I’ll be as chipper as a Blast-Ended Skrewt, sweetest. Promise.”

“As long as you are,” Pansy countered. “Why don’t you and Harry come over later tonight? Theo was only saying the other night how long it’s been since we properly talked to you both. I’ll ring down to Mifty, get her to make up an extra couple of portions. We’re having that Cannelloni that I know you enjoyed.”

“Thank you but I’m going to say no,” Draco said. The thought of all that rich cheese sauce made him feel a little queasy. “I’m going to have a nap, love. Try and sleep off this malady.”

He stretched his legs and yawned once more. Sitting down on the carpet in front of the fireplace had given Draco a fearsome case of pins and needles.

“Good idea,” Pansy decided. “I’ll see you and Potter on Saturday then. Do give my love to your jewel of a husband and to Cissa if you see her. I love you, Draco! Go and get some rest!”

Pansy blew Draco kiss and bade him goodbye. The wizard stood hesitantly, his legs shaky and my vision fuzzy with hunger and tiredness. Merlin but Draco couldn’t fathom what was wrong with him. Exhaustion had washed over him like a bloody tide. He groaned and slumped down onto the settee. He’d sit for a minute before he had to face the stairs.

Draco couldn’t understand what in Lucifer’s seven Hells was wrong with him.

The wizard felt like he could sleep for a dozen years and still wake up bleary-eyed. As the grip of sleep began to pull him into unconsciousness, Draco racked his brain, trying to think of anything that might explain just how poorly he was feeling.

It had certainly been a long while since Harry and he had been on holiday and he’d been burning the candle at both ends at the Apothecary during the last few months.

Even since Harry and he had given up on a dream of a baby of their own three years before, Draco had ploughed all his energies into his and Millicent’s joint venture, an Apothecary on Diagon Alley. His years of taking phials of fertility medicines had inspired Draco to fine-tune and improve such potions. It might be too late for him, Draco had reasoned, but that didn’t have to be the case for other wizards in his and Harry’s sorrowful situation.

All of Draco and Millie’s hard work was finally paying off too: Bulstrode and Malfoy’s Potion Emporium was finally breaking even and- slowly but very surely- heading into profitability.

Merlin, but he felt so odd. Perhaps he should just do as his best-friend had asked.

He’d send an owl over to St. Mungos in the morning and book an appointment with the Department of Magical Ailments And Diseases. Whatever his body had decided to do without his permission Draco needed it to cease before it stole even more of my days.

Draco yawned and closed his eyes. He was working too hard. That had to be it.

~*~*~

Draco felt bittersweet to be back at St. Mungos after an absence of three long years.

Harry and he had spent so many afternoons there, sat in the uncomfortable chairs in the chilly Department of Paternal Healing waiting room. Each time both wizards had been weighed, measured and found wanting.

The two wizards had suffered so many broken expectations and so many dashed hopes here at St. Mungos that, to Draco, the very bricks of the building seemed to be imbued with disappointment and a raw, painful need. He supposed he was being fanciful- self indulgent, even- but coming back had stirred up a million memories that Draco still found horribly painful.

Draco had come alone to the appointment. Had Harry have known about it then he would have booked the day off from the DMLE and insisted on attending too.

Draco had deemed that unnecessary. He was only here because of some grotty Muggle bug and the wizard had no doubt at all that a quick course of Pepper-Up would have him happy and well again by the weekend.

Draco felt like a bit of a rotter for fibbing to Harry by omission but he’d known that being at St. Mungos would only have stirred up Harry’s sadness and his guilt. It was Draco’s life duty to help his husband avoid his dark, wretched days whenever he possibly could.

“Mr. Potter-Malfoy?” said a tall and very starched Mediwix from the waiting room doorway. Her voice startled Draco a little and dragged him away from his painful daydreams. “If you could come with me, please? I’m Mediwix Blystone and I’m going to be looking after you today. There’s really no need to look so worried,” she smiled as she ushered Draco into a neat, pastel-hued room.

“Today is really only about investigation, Draco,” Blystone added. “I’d like to do some small exploratory magic exams, just to discount some of the more common wizarding ailments. There won’t be any unpleasant procedures. Now, I’m just going to go and collect your medical records. Make yourself comfortable on the bed and we’ll talk a little more in a moment.”

Comfortable had to be quite the most ridiculous word that Draco imagined he had ever heard in his life.

As he shuffled into place on the clinic bed he didn’t think that he’d ever felt less at ease. Draco had lain in similar positions countless times while Mediwix Blake and his white-robed nurses had examined him, taken his blood and cast a litany of spells over his skin.

A ripple of anxiety ran down Draco’s spine. Hospitals only meant bad news, tears and crushing disappointment. It didn’t matter a single sickle that this was a different department and a different Healer. The same untamed emotions were beginning to panic him and rush through his brain.

The door opened then and Mediwix Blystone returned to the room. She wore a white coat over her robe and she held a big parchment file in her hand. “I hear you’ve been feeling a little under the weather,” she said kindly, Accio’ing a Self-Scribing quill from the desk in the corner. “First I’m going to ask you a few questions and I promise you that my quill feather here will record only what we say, nothing else. Is that alright?”

Draco supposed that it would have to be. All his words felt locked in his throat and his mouth was dry. His heart seemed all at once, to want to burst out of his chest and to bury itself away. He shoved his hands into his pockets, furious with them for trembling. An image of Harry’s kind, loving smile flashed through Draco’s mind and he wished foolishly that his husband was here beside him, ready to squeeze his hand and tell Draco that he was being brave.

Eventually Draco nodded. He needed to get this over with and the sooner the Mediwix began her questions the sooner he could floo back to the Apothecary.

“Please don’t feel too anxious,” Mediwix Blystone said, her voice professional but gentle. “I saw when I looked at your records that you’ve had all of your potion inoculations. Dragon Pox. Vanishing Sickness. Scrofungulus. That’s excellent news. It means your ailment can’t be any of those, Draco. And you’ve had the Mufflemumps already so it isn’t those either.”

Overall the examination wasn’t anywhere near as awful as Draco had built it up to be in his imagination. Blystone performed several sentientia spells that made his skin tingle as the wash of the Mediwix’s unfamiliar magic danced over his skin. Draco tried his very best to keep his mind blank and he listened hard to the scratch of the quill on parchment as Bystone rattled through her examination.

“Your blood sugar is terribly low,” Blystone said with a purse of her lips. “That would explain the headaches and light-headedness but not the underlying causes. “I’m going to ask you to take an iron supplement potion. You’re a little anaemic but nothing that we can’t remedy. I can see from your records that you took Fertilitatem Curatio potions for several years longer than is really recommended so I expect there is a little tissue damage but overall you’re in excellent health. Mmmm. You’re quite the conundrum Mr. Potter-Malfoy. I’m afraid that I’m not going to be able to give you an answer today.” Draco felt himself blanch a little at Blystone’s next words. “I’m just going to take a tiny ampule of blood. There’s a couple of conditions that I’d like to discount and a blood test is simply the most efficient method. This won’t hurt at all.”

Blystone’s tiny Diffindo bloodletting spell stung horribly, despite her anaesthetising magic but Draco was relieved that she was at least fast about her work. The wizard left the room soon after with a small sigh of relief. Thank Merlin that it was finally over with!

With any luck the Mediwix’s owl would arrive later with a prescription of some potion that would be the end of his problems. Blystone had asked Draco to leave a urine sample with the duty nurse which had felt a touch unusual for a virus, but the wizard was prepared to happily play along if it got him out of St. Mungos, and back to his regular, predictable life.

Draco did everything Mediwix Blystone asked and picked up his iron supplement before stepping into the floo.

He felt rather cheerful overall and much calmer. Draco had an afternoon of Apothecary balance sheets to jostle into orderliness before him and he had never been more delighted about the prospect of throwing himself into the minutiae of his job.

~*~*~

Just as Draco had predicted, Mediwix Blystone’s owl arrived late the very same afternoon.

The wizard had been happily filing away the last of his paperwork with an in literis amet spell and enjoying the scent and taste of a cup of ginger tea. Apart from his ubiquitous fizzy water, ginger tea was the only hot drink that Draco was even close to being able to stomach.

He looked up from his paperwork to see a large Snowy Owl scratching at the window pane. Draco let the bird into his office, gave it a treat and examined the parchment that had been secured to the animal’s leg.

It wasn’t a prescription or even a dramatic diagnosis that Draco could brag to Pansy about. All that the owl had brought was a letter. Draco felt vexed and he read the message twice, trying to make head or tail of what the Mediwix was trying to say.

“Mr. Potter-Malfoy,” Draco reread with a scowl, “thank you for attending your appointment at St. Mungo’s Department of Magical Ailments And Diseases this morning. You’ll be pleased to know that all of your exploratory tests have been conducted this afternoon and I am confident that we are able to give you the answers you have been seeking. Please can you come back to my office at nine tomorrow? Please be assured that you aren't contagious and your news isn’t any way negative. I look forward to seeing you and your husband tomorrow. Yours sincerely, Mediwix Carol Blystone.”

Draco sighed. Suddenly his ginger tea tasted repellent and he decided to floo straight home. He couldn’t abide the idea of staring at the four walls of his office any longer.

Whatever did the silly witch mean about his news not being negative? Draco shrugged off his thin summer coat and hung it up on the peg in the hallway. Harry’s coat peg beside it was still empty. His husband was attending a case review briefing with Robards and wouldn’t be home until late. Of course her news was bloody negative! There hadn’t been a day that had passed in weeks where Draco hadn’t parted with his dinner. He was as sick as a bloody crup!

He couldn’t understand what the daft woman meant about bringing his husband with him either. Salazar’s fucking wand! Why ever did she want to see Harry? Draco felt irritated. He was thirty-bloody-years old and he needed to bring his husband along to his medical appointments like some wet-behind-the-ears Hogwarts student? He huffed with irritation, knowing that he’d have to explain himself over dinner. Harry would be justly annoyed that Draco had kept him out of the loop about visiting St. Mungos.

Draco threw his work satchel into the cupboard with a satisfyingly loud thump, hating how out of control his life once again felt.

~*~*~

The next morning rolled around after a long, dismal night.

Harry, of course, had been entirely true to form. He had been horribly disappointed that Draco had attended hospital on his own.

“I only wish you’d told me,” had been Harry’s words while Draco had struggled through a slice of inedible takeaway pizza. “I’d have gotten the time off easily, love. Been there to hold your hand.”

Neither man had been able to work out the meaning of Healer Blystone’s letter and in the end, the pair of them had given up, set their housekeeping spells to clean their plates and trudged up the stairs to their bed. It had been a dreadful night of worries for Draco and he had only managed to drift away to sleep as the first grey rays of dawn had patterned the blinds.

Even worse, at the exact moment that Mediwix Blystone came into the Magical Ailments reception area to collect Harry and himself, Draco had been crouched in the adjoining bathroom, regurgitating the three bites of toast that Harry had bullied and cajoled him into eating for breakfast.

Draco felt fifty shades of absolutely dreadful. His body was a perfectly treasonous brute and Draco knew that he must look a dreadful sight to everyone around him.

“Hello Draco,” Blystone said gently, waiting at a discreet distance while Draco stood up on shaky legs and spelled away the last of his meal. “I would wish you a good morning but it doesn’t appear to have been too rosy for you so far,” she said. “You mustn’t worry too much about this sickness though. We can give you something to help you manage that.”

“Thank Merlin,” Draco replied, sheepishly padding out of the bathroom. At least there weren't any other patients to give him speculative stares. Harry and he followed Blystone as the three of them returned to the same pastel examination room as the previous day. “Although I was hoping that the sickness would disappear once I took the curative potions?” Draco asked. “I have to admit, I’m quite at the end of my tether with it-”

Mediwix Blystone gestured for Draco to get back up on the bed and motioned for Harry to take the seat close by.

Harry’s hair looked even more unruly than was usual and Draco could see that his eyes were dark with concern. Harry took Draco’s hand in his own. His husband’s fingers were warm and the gesture was very familiar. Blystone took hold of the same large file as the day before and sat down on a seat opposite the two men.

“Draco, this sickness? Well, it isn’t one that necessarily warrants a curative potion. Apart from your slight Anaemia and the low blood sugar that we discussed yesterday you’re actually perfectly healthy. Now, you won’t have forgotten that we took a sample of your blood? When I tested it, I found an elevated level of HCG hormones in your blood-”

Draco’s mind swam at the Mediwix’s words. Elevated HCG meant only one thing but that simply wasn’t possible. Not for Harry and not for him.

The witch had made a terrible mistake or perhaps there had been some sort of error or mix up in the hospital potion lab. Draco felt his head spin and he was glad that there was nothing left in his belly for he felt sure that he would have vomited once more.

“Please can you just tell us?” Draco managed, his voice little more than a croak. “Please. Stop dancing around the bloody cauldron! Just tell us-”

“It means, Draco, that you’re pregnant,” Blystone replied and Draco felt his whole world tilt.

All those Fertilitatem Curatio potions that he had swallowed, night after blessed night. All those trips to Avebury Stone Circle. All those years of yearning for a happy ending. The river of tears that Harry and he had spilt. The room seemed to twirl around him and he gasped in shock.

“There must have been an error,” Harry said, his voice breaking as he spoke. Draco turned to look at his husband. Harry’s face was ashen and his knuckles were white where they clutched Draco’s hand. “You’ve got Draco’s medical records there on your knee! We had years of treatment for infertility… Our Mediwix was a chap called Blake. He was of the opinion that having our own baby was an impossibility-.

“Almost an impossibility,” Blystone corrected. “And yes, I have read the file. I can see that the odds have been stacked against you both. If you don’t mind my saying, you must be an extraordinarily strong couple to have endured it.” She handed Draco a sheet of parchment. It was full of numbers and he couldn’t make head nor tail of what it was supposed to show. “You’re welcome to a second opinion, of course, but I assure you that we haven’t made a mistake,” she continued. “We always run multiple diagnostic tests in cases such as yours. That was why I requested the urine sample yesterday. A resounding positive, Draco. You’re pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Draco gasped, glad that he was laying down. Draco thought it seemed barely possible. He had closed his mind to the possibility. The room blurred in front of Draco’s eyes and his stomach turned to mush. He wanted to laugh and to cry. With one little word his whole life had changed forever. “I feel like I’m dreaming,” he murmured, looking at an equally dumbfounded Harry.

“You’re not dreaming,” Blystone confirmed, her voice steadfast. “And, frankly, I’m shocked that you’ve made it to this point of pregnancy ignorant of the fact. I think your body has been doing everything within its power to tell you.” Blystone stood and Accio’ed a glass of water which she passed over to Draco. “Judging by hormone levels in your blood I think you’re about nine weeks along.” She smiled kindly. “Take some time to acclimatise. I can understand that you’re both in a state of shock. I’m going to nip out for five minutes and then when I get back we can take a peek at your little one.”

Harry folded Draco into his arms the moment that Mediwix Blystone left the room. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and they mixed with Draco’s own.

Eight years of wanting and hoping. Eight years of disappointment and sadness. Neither wizard could bring themselves to speak. Nothing that either man could say could adequately express the ecstasy in their hearts. Harry held Draco as tightly as he could without breaking him and a shaky laugh escaped from his throat. All Draco could do was shake his head in joyful amazement.

The future that both men had accepted as their due suddenly looked very different.

~*~*~

Blystone was back before they knew it and Draco soon found his voice.

“I can barely believe it,” he grinned, cradling his tummy with the palm of his hand. There was a slight new roundness there that hadn’t been there before but Draco had thought it was just bloating due to his illness. “My friends Pansy and Millie were both a bit worried about me,” he explained a little shyly. Blystone was filling in some blanks in his notes. “I was falling asleep at work. Getting sick when I made up potions… I suppose that just thought I’d caught some Muggle bug.”

“That all sounds very normal,” Mediwix Blystone replied, giving Draco a nod. She dimmed the lights with a Nox and handed him several pieces of cloth. “You body is chockful of unusual hormones, half of your natural magic is being diverted and all your internal organs are shifting as your little one grows bigger with everyday that passes. This must have all come as a gigantic shock.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Harry replied, watching as Blystone performed an anti-bacterial spell on her hands, “I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up.” The Mediwix waved her wand and Draco felt the bed that he was lying on begin to recline. Harry gave Draco a soft smile and wiped away a stray tear with the heel of his hand. “This spell isn’t going to hurt Draco is it?” Harry asked, his voice concerned. “We had to have a lot of tests when we were trying before… Some of them were quite painful-”

“This won’t hurt at all,” Blystone promised. “I know that you’ve had a long journey to get to this point. Draco, if you could just pull up your shirt,” Blystone asked then, “and tuck the cloth over the top of your trousers? I don’t want to get salve onto them… Now, neither of you need to feel nervous. I know you both might feel like you’re the first wizards to have gone through this process but I’ve seen lots of pregnancies that have happened after the fathers have stopped deliberately trying. Little surprises come along more often than you’d imagine.”

Draco did as Mediwix Blystone had requested, shivering slightly as she dabbed chilly salve onto his belly. She spread it below his belly button with a tissue and Draco had to stifle the daftest urge to giggle. Of all the situations that he’d found himself in his life this had to count as one of the oddest. His tummy really didn’t look anywhere round enough for this procedure yet.

Blystone touched him gently with the tip of her wand and Draco felt a rush of tingling magic spread through his torso. Her magic was warm as it permeated the wizard’s skin and it radiated in slow, languid waves through his body. Draco’s awkward embarrassment died as he watched the spell, overawed by the process. He wanted to look over and share Harry’s reaction but it was simply impossible to draw his eyes away from the enthralling magic occurring before his eyes.

A tiny pulsing mass had begun to float in the empty space above his tummy. Shiny tendrils of magic surrounded it and he squinted, suddenly wanting urgently to see his baby clearly. “Is everything alright?” Draco asked, his voice catching with sudden worry and panic. “I can’t really work out what I’m looking at.”

“Everything looks wonderful,” Mediwix Blystone replied. She murmured an incantation and the tiny mass of undulating magic glowed even more brightly. Draco heard her Self-Scribing quill begin to note down her words across the room. “The glowing mass that you’re looking at? That’s your uterus Draco. That was formed during intercourse when your magical signatures combined with Harry’s own. That piece of magic allowed you to get pregnant. It’s beautifully formed and looks very healthy for this stage of pregnancy… And this darker spot here,” she said, twisting her wand once more, “this here is your baby! Their heartbeat is very strong, gentlemen. Everything looks like it is progressing perfectly. No wonder you’ve been feeling so poorly Draco. Your body has been working very hard indeed.”

The rest of Draco’s appointment passed in a bit of a blur.

The sight of his baby had burned into his consciousness and his mind swam with nerves, panic and excitement about the future. Harry and he kept sharing wide, ridiculous grins and squeezing each other’s hands. Facts, figures and appointment dates were thrust at the pair of them and Harry and he were introduced to a Magi-Midwife who would be their first contact if they had any day to day worries.

Blystone talked a little about what the rest of his pregnancy would look like too. St. Mungos would have to monitor him a little more closely that they would have with a witch pregnancy. The fact that their baby was supported by magic rather than biology meant there might be a few added complications as well, like unstable spell casting and inability to Appearate after a few more months has passed.

“But that doesn’t mean that you have to spend every minute fretting,” Blystone added, magicking away her quill and closing her file of notes. “Most male pregnancies do run smoothly and I’ve not seen any evidence that yours won’t have a similarly perfect outcome. The most important thing is lots of love and support from Harry here. I don’t want you overdoing it or straining your magic Draco. You’ve got to look after your baby now.”

Harry smiled at that and Draco knew that he’d be cosseted and spoilt to within an inch of his life. Harry wouldn’t let him lift a finger if Draco didn’t want to. Potter spent his life looking for a reason to look after the people he cared about and Blystone had just gifted Harry the perfect opportunity.

The two wizards left the St. Mungos feeling buoyant and hopeful.

All around them the streets of wizarding London carried on, as busy as they always were. Wix streamed down Diagon, all of them intent on their daily business of work and pleasure. They bustled into the shops, gossiped with the shopkeepers and drank in the little coffee-houses that dotted the Alley cobbles. Draco looked around with wonder and awe. Everything looked the same as it always did really but nothing was.

Harry and he stood on the pavement, arms wrapped around each other as the world passed them by. They were impervious to the curious stares of onlookers, entirely enraptured with each other.

“We’ve having a baby,” Harry whispered into his ear, voice still half-disbelieving. “Our baby. I can scarcely believe it, Draco. All those years of yearning… All those years of smiling while our friends had baby after baby while we were just breaking into pieces inside. All those years of feeling such guilt. You never said a word, love, and I knew I was letting you down with every month you weren't a father.” Harry smiled and he pressed a loving kiss onto Draco’s hair. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I’m excited and I love you. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

Draco could only sway on the spot. He felt lighter than air and more than a little faint. He let his husband take his weight. The Goddess had finally heard their incantations. Harry and he were having a baby.

“You’ve never, ever let me down,” Draco murmured into Harry’s skin. “You wouldn’t- couldn’t- let me down. I love you.”

“I love you too. So much, Draco. Let’s go home,” Harry urged. “We’ll firecall the Apothecary and I’ll make something up to tell Robards. I’ve a terrible urge just to be close to you.” Harry let his hand coast briefly over Draco’s belly and Draco felt his heart swell with love. “A terrible urge to be close to both of you.”

~*~*~

Theo and Pansy were both ecstatic and terribly peeved when Draco and Harry shared their fantastic news before dinner at the Parkinson-Nott Estate.

Harry and Draco had decided to wait as long as they possibly could before they shared their big news. Draco had been superstitious about their wonderful luck. He wasn’t all that young for a first time father as he’d been and he had been frightened of complications. Harry and he had waited until Draco was nearly fifteen weeks along to start telling people, in case the broom had been pulled out from beneath them.

The thought of something awful happening to the tiny baby that he’d wanted for so many years filled both wizards with a fierce dread. Harry had agreed with Draco and they had kept baby Potter-Malfoy a secret as long as they could. There wasn’t going to be much hiding their baby soon enough though.

Draco had purposely worn loose, baggy shirts whenever Harry and he went out in public and even they barely hid the new swell of his swollen belly. He knew that he wasn’t massive, but Draco had always been as skinny and tall a wand so he already felt quite rounded. He didn’t think there was going to be any hiding his bump by the date of his sixteen-week appointment.

If he were being truthful, Draco had very much enjoyed keeping their baby concealed from the rest of the world. In the space of a few weeks their baby would be public knowledge and then the Daily-bloody-Prophet and all of their nosy journalists would be spouting their vile opinions once more.

Draco didn’t care about his own reputation any more but he couldn’t abide the idea of anyone mocking Harry and his baby. They were innocent of his family shame.

Stories about the War, about his Father’s long incarceration would no doubt be published and then the small subsection of the wizarding public who had never been able to accept their marriage would be riled up to anger and bigotry once more. No doubt the Howlers would start arriving then, as regular as the bloody tide.

“I promise that you’re the first person we’ve told apart from my Mother,” Draco assured his best-friend as the four wix enjoyed pre-dinner drinks out on the veranda. Draco wrapped his arms around her and Pansy gave him a tearful, scolding kiss on the cheek. He took her hand and lay it on the swell of his growing bump. “And though all the Magi-Midwives have all said that there’s nothing to be concerned about, I suppose that I can’t help but fret, what with being a chap and Pureblood to boot. We’re both doing everything we can to help the pregnancy to move along smoothly but it’s still a worry.”

“It’s the absolute best news,” Pansy replied. “You’re absolutely glowing, darling. Pregnancy suits you. You look the picture of health.” Theo refilled their glasses with sparkling apple juice. “Now, before I make a toast I’ve got a little confession of my own, Draco. It isn’t the done thing to steal a best-friend’s thunder but you’re not the only wix with a pixie in their cauldron, love. Theo and I have had a little surprise too-”

Draco felt his jaw drop. His best-friend had been adamant that she wasn’t going to have another baby after Phillipe. Pans had insisted that three was the perfect number and that her family was complete. “You’re having another baby?” he asked, incredulous at the news.

“I am,” Pansy laughed. “I know that I swore I didn’t want a fourth but as soon as I took the test I was overjoyed. Mother thinks four is vulgar but I don’t give a single sickle about her old fashioned opinions!” Fresh tears spilled out of her soft brown eyes. “And each time we’ve added to our family I’ve prayed that Harry and you would be equally blessed.” She shook her head. “Looks like I’ve finally got myself a pregnancy chum!”

The veranda was busy then, with congratulations, more tears, the shaking of hands and laughter.

Pansy called for Mifty and instructed the Elf to bring up a bottle of champagne for a toast. The Elf returned before hardly any time had passed. She filled up Harry and Theo’s flutes but refused to give any to Draco and Pansy. “The Mistress and her friend will be having more apple juice,” she insisted obstinately.

“To new babies,” Theo suggested, holding his glass high for the other wix to chink. “And new beginnings.”

“New babies and new beginnings,” chorused Pansy, Draco and Harry in return.

Harry lay a light hand around Draco’s waist and brushed a kiss on his cheek.The blond wizard felt warm and buoyed on every side by support. The whole world would very soon get to know about Harry and his pregnancy but perhaps that experience wouldn’t be as dreadful as Draco had feared.

Not when he had such wonderful friends in his corner and Harry’s unstinting, generous love.

~*~*~

The next few months flew past in the blink of an eye and it seemed like no time at all before Draco was attending his thirty-fourth week appointment.

It felt amazing that their baby was due in only six more weeks and the wizard spent the whole of his time oscillating between joyfulness and intense spells of the jitters. For what seemed like the first time in Draco’s life everything was proceeding on schedule and their baby was entirely happy and healthy.

Their Magi-Midwife had measured his bump and announced that their baby was the exact size of pineapple, a fact which Draco could easily believe. His back and hips ached something terrible and he was extremely thankful for Harry’s wonderful massages. The bespectacled wizard was unsparing with his kisses, foot rubs and cuddles. Potter had never complained once about satisfying Draco’s cravings either, not even when he was dispatched during the evenings to buy lemon and cloudberry ice-cream cones from the Elven Dessert Emporium on Knockturn Alley.

But best of all, much of Draco’s anxiety about Howlers, poisonous Prophet articles and his own chequered history had been unfounded. Rather than angry, the wizarding public had been overjoyed that their Saviour and his husband were finally expecting a much-wanted baby.

It seemed to Draco that the whole world was as excited as he was for their baby to be born and Harry and he had been inundated with handmade gifts and cards.

If Draco had sewed all blankets they had received together he could have covered the entirety of Diagon Alley. They had more stuffed Hippogriffs and Unicorns than either they knew what to do with and a great swathe of Hufflepuff-yellow baby clothes that had been a gift from Teddy Lupin.

Ginny and Oliver had brought the sweetest mobile for above their babe’s cot. Tiny dragons and broomsticks fluttered and danced with just a swish of a wand and Draco had through it was the most darling thing that he’d ever seen. It had pride of place in their beautifully decorated nursery. Harry had insisted that he decorate it himself, not allowing even Ron to give him a hand. “It’s the least I can do,” he had said, kissing Draco on the forehead. “You’re the one doing all the hard work, love, growing our little one and keeping them safe.”

Of course not everything had been perfect. There had been the occasional piece of nasty correspondence but Harry had simply strengthened the wards on their home. Nothing venomous or repellent could breach Harry’s protective magic and mercifully Draco hadn’t had to deal with anything upsetting.

Mediwix Blake and Blystone had insisted that Draco take early paternity leave from the Apothecary, just as a precautionary measure. They had been worried about the potential for spillages and accidents. Draco had fussed a bit but Millie had stood firm and insisted that he put his health first. “Besides,” she had laughed, “I can still send the account books over to you by owl. I’ll swing by yours each week. We can have a cup of tea and I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Draco had found sharing pregnancy with Pansy to be nothing but a positive experience. He took to spending his suddenly empty days lazing in Pansy’s pool or walking around the lake at Malfoy Manor with his best-friend beside him. Then they spent their afternoons dozing on the settee or watching mushy Muggle films that made them both cry. It really was perfectly lovely. The pair would compare notes on their doting, wonderful husbands and their strange symptoms, before driving Mifty to distraction with their odd cravings and demands.

The poor Elf had been quite disgusted with the idea of making peanut butter and banana toast but Draco had to admit that she had attempted it valiantly. Every night Harry would listen to Draco gossip about his day and then laughingly claim that he knew more about Pansy’s pregnancy than he did about Draco’s own.

Draco decided to broach the subject of names during their thirty-seventh week. Their Mediwix had told them that day that their baby was nearly full term and that they needed to be ready for delivery.

Draco felt more than ready to meet their baby. Their little one danced on his bladder like it was their calling in life and even the most powerful potions wouldn’t touch his heartburn. Every night his legs cramped up like they’d been hexed and his pelvis was sore and aching. Even getting up the stairs was an effortful process.

Harry, of course, took all of Draco’s good natured grumbles in his stride. The powerful magic guiding his pregnancy to completion meant that Draco was now physically able to birth their baby, a fact which felt intimidating to say the very least. The pair of wizards had made the decision early on not to find out the gender of their little one. Compared with the momentousness of actually birthing a child, gender seemed like a small thing to worry about.

Still, baby Potter-Malfoy needed a name.

Draco sipped his pumpkin juice and sat beside Harry on the settee. His bump felt about as big as Wiltshire and his paternity jumper was stretched tautly around his middle. He felt massive and their baby was very squirmy. There was less room for his baby to move about now and Draco fidgeted a little, feeling uncomfortable under the extra weight.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked, peering over the top of his magazine in Draco’s direction. Concern washed over his features. “No pains or cramps?”

“I’m not in labour,” Draco huffed, stuffing another pillow behind his back. Unfortunately it didn’t help half as much as he had hoped. “You can stand down, love.” Draco chewed a lemon favoured Bertie Bott thoughtfully. “Mother firecalled again today. She had another list of names that her hoity-toity friends have given her to suggest to you. They were all as ugly as sin, Potter. Gethsemane if we have a girl. Euripides if we have a boy.”

Harry laughed and snagged the last handful of jelly beans that were left in the bowl between them. Draco was in two minds whether to demand that Potter hand them over but he thought better of it. He’d eaten the rest of the bowl himself and Harry hadn’t managed to get a look in.

“Merlin, no,” Harry agreed with a grimace. “I can only imagine Ron’s smirk if I introduced him to our new baby Gethsemane Potter-Malfoy. No, I still reckon we should go with something simple. Jake or Sally. Something they don’t have to carry around like a stone.”

Draco frowned. Those names were a touch too unsophisticated in his opinion. He lay his hand on the smooth warm curve of his belly. He’d never have imagined how much he’d revel in the visible evidence of his baby growing bigger with every day that passed. He’d miss his bump when their baby arrived and the soft nudge of their baby’s movements against his skin.

“I still like the traditional names,” Draco replied. “Constellations for boys and flowers for girls. What about Peony if they’re a girl? Or Honeysuckle?”

Harry raised an eyebrow behind his glasses and swallowed the last of the jelly beans. “I don’t mind you following your family traditions,” he mused. “I know that they’re important to you, love. I’ll be honest though: I’m not sure that either of those names do much for me. What have you got for boy’s names?”

“Vela,” Draco said promptly. “Or Osiris. I had those names picked out of our family Astronomy book by the time I was seven.” Draco’s cheeks flushed at the memory. “Merlin, I even underlined them. Father wasn’t best pleased.”

Harry seemed to appreciate Draco’s words. He joined his hand with Draco’s own and spread the width of their hands over the expanse of Draco’s wide tummy together. “They’re wiggly tonight,” Harry said, smiling across at Draco. “I think that they were impressed with those suggestions. Were there any female names in your family Astronomy book?”

Draco thought back to the Astronomy lessons that he’d enjoyed as a youth. Many of the names they’d learnt about had been ruined by his overbearing dictatorial family but there were some very pretty star names left that that Draco thought Harry and he could live with. “There’s Cassiopeia I suppose,” he replied, “and there is Lyra. That might be too matchy-matchy though? Lyra Lily Narcissa?”

“I don’t give two stuffs if their names are matchy-matchy,” Harry said. He smiled broadly and the dimples in his freckled cheeks showed. Draco thought that his husband looked very handsome indeed. “We’re their parents and I think I like those names very much indeed.” He gave Draco’s belly a familiar pat. “Hello, little Vela-or-Lyra,” he said, his voice full of tender love. “If it’s okay then we’d like to stay put for another couple of weeks but, after that, we’re both very excited to meet you. We’ve been waiting to see you for such a long time now. It feels like nearly forever.”

~*~*~

When Draco awoke just past dawn, only two days before his official due date he knew immediately that today was the big day.

Today was the first day of the rest of their lives.

Today was the day that their baby was going to arrive and soon Harry and he would finally be able to hold them in their arms. The wizard manoeuvred his swollen belly out of bed as quickly as he could manage and waddled at his quickest pace over to the en-suite bathroom. As soon as he arrived Draco vomited the Chow Mein that he had eaten the previous night. He hadn’t been sick once since his First Trimester and his Mother had told him a sensitive tummy was a sure-fire sign that his labour had begun.

All the air rushed out of Draco’s lungs as he tried to call out for Harry. Nothing came out of his mouth though; nothing but a little panicked squeak. Luckily his beloved had a super-attuned sense of when he was required. Potter was beside Draco in mere moments, wrapping his dressing gown around his shoulders and spelling the bath taps to begin pouring warm water into the tub.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Harry murmured, talking to Draco like he was a spooked Thestral. He was at least calm though, which Draco absolutely wasn’t. “Everything is alright, love. Promise. Are you in pain? Does your belly feel like it’s contracting?”

Draco had often teased his husband about his Saviour Complex but for once he was very glad to be on the receiving end of Harry’s attention. “There isn’t any pain,” he replied, screwing up his forehead in discomfort. “But my belly feels awkward. Lower, I think. Baby has definitely dropped.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m not sure that I can do this,” he managed, his voice faltering. “I’m not strong enough.”

“You can do this,” Harry replied, spelling the water to the perfect temperature with a speedy flick of his wand. “Nothing is more important than family, love. You've always said that, Draco. You’re stronger and braver than you know. Shall we get you into the bath? The Mediwix said it’d feel soothing during the latent stage of labour.”

Draco nodded and allowed Harry to strip him out of the dressing gown and pyjamas. He was trembling, even though their home was kept comfortably warm.

Harry took his weight and helped him into the bathtub. Harry had magicked it big enough for Draco to spread out his body only a few days before. “That feels good,” Draco replied with a sigh. The heat of the water was soothing around his delicate tummy and Harry dimmed the light with Nox so that it felt a little more intimate and restful.

Draco experienced his first real contraction about half an hour later. He was relaxing into the water when it began, the faint coil of pain growing as it radiated outwards from his womb.

The tightening grew in strength until pain gripped the whole of his belly and then it settled in the base of his spine. Draco remembered Pansy’s advice and counted through the contraction, biting his lip as he did so.

The feeling wasn’t anywhere near unmanageable yet but Draco could see how he might easily get overwhelmed if he didn’t keep his nerve up. The feeling held on for twenty seconds before it vanished like it had never been. “Harry,” he cried out, excited but nervous too. “It’s really happening! I just had a contraction!”

Harry had been getting Draco a Pumpkin Juice to sip, but he rushed back through the door like a throng of Inferi were on his tail. “Circe,” he exclaimed. “Fuck. I’m so sorry I missed it, love,” Harry said, crouching down and seizing hold of Draco’s hand. “Was it really painful?”

Draco perched his head on the side of the bathtub and Harry stroked his fingers along the side of Draco’s face. “I’m sure there’ll be more,” Draco said with a wry smile. “It hurt a little bit but it wasn’t too bad. More like a severe cramp than anything else.”

Draco hadn’t quite realised how excruciating his contractions were going to get. As the morning passed the longer and more painful they became. As the morning ticked over into the afternoon Draco was certainly glad of the birthing classes that Pansy had insisted that Harry and he attend.

Mediwix Blystone had told him that moving about would make his labour go by faster and be better for his baby so Harry had helped him out of the bath and dried him off with a warming spell.

Harry pulled a baggy tee-shirt over his head, gave him a kiss on the cheek and the two of them moved slowly back through to their bedroom. It was only a few steps but almost as soon as they got there Draco felt another contraction start to grow in strength.

“Harry,” he murmured, turning to him for support. “Help me, love. I can feel another one building up.” Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s throat and rocked his body from side to side through the cramping pain. The movement definitely helped. “Mmm. Hurts all over,” he muttered into the crook of Harry’s neck.

“I know it does,” Harry replied, his voice sympathetic, “but you’re already doing so well, Draco. Every contraction gets us closer to meeting our little one. I’m so proud of you.”

They got through two more contractions like that, Harry taking all of Draco’s weight and the pair of them slowly undulating their bodies together.

Draco felt safe and he liked having Harry’s arms snug around him. He didn’t have anything to compare it with but Draco felt like everything was going really well and that he was making good progress. Harry was timing his contractions with a Tempus spell and he was currently about seven minutes apart.

“Would you like anything?” Harry asked, ghosting his fingers over Draco’s shoulders. “I could get you a fizzy water or an energy bar? Would you like to watch a film or-”

“Can you put a record on?” Draco asked. “Please?” He wasn’t hungry in the least and he knew that he was in far too much pain to follow any kind of story on the Muggle box. “Something gentle… Oh. It’s coming again-”

Harry held Draco and they counted up through the intense spasm. The pain just seemed to go on and on, and Draco clung on hard to his husband, his legs quivering and his leg muscles tensing up.

When it was over Draco was panting and his whole body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Merlin. That wasn't fun,” Draco muttered. “Everything felt really tight inside, like a bloody hex burn or something-”

“That was a big one, wasn’t it love?” Harry said, his voice laced with concern. “Just breathe, Draco sweetheart. You’re doing so well. Would you still like some music on? I’ll need to do it now before it all starts again.”

Draco nodded and Harry flipped through the records he had brought through earlier.

“Is Celestina Warbeck alright?” he asked, placing the needle on the vinyl. “I know that she’s your favourite,” he said. Harry pulled Draco back into the sphere of his arms and then he rubbed the base of Draco’s back with the palm of his hand as his tummy began to squeeze and clench once more. “Remember how you taught me to dance to Flighty Aphrodite?” Harry asked. “For Blaise and Astoria’s wedding? You couldn't understand how a wizard that could ride a broom as well as I could dance so appallingly.” Harry smiled into the memory as the two of them swayed together. “Those were your words, Draco. But you never gave up. We got there in the end.”

“I’m- I’m stubborn,” Draco managed. His voice was taut and breathless. His belly was contracting again and he could feel their baby moving slowly downwards. He whined with the tight pressure of it, already more exhausted than he would have liked at this early stage of the game.

Harry gave Draco a fond smile. “You are. One of the most stubborn people I know. One of the many reasons I love you as much as I do,” He kissed Draco’s damp, mussy hair and tucked some stray stands behind his ear. “And now we’re dancing again. Seems fitting, somehow. Dancing on our last night as a twosome.”

Draco supposed that they were. He let himself get lost in the music and his memories. He closed his eyes against the throbbing pain and let Celestina Warbeck’s soulful voice roll over his skin. He lent forward and gave Harry a chaste kiss, trying to communicate every ounce of his love in the embrace.

Words were too burdensome and Draco’s brain was too full of fiery tightness for them to make any kind of sense.

~*~*~

Three more powerful contractions brought the interval between contractions down to under five minutes which was wonderful news. It meant that it was time for the pair of wizards to floo to St. Mungos. Draco felt faint with relief as Harry helped him into a pair of pyjama bottoms.

“Must look a bloody sight,” Draco rasped out, leaning heavily on Harry as they made slow progress to the fireplace.

“I think that you’ve never looked more handsome,” Harry complimented as he helped Draco into place and threw down a handful of floo powder.

Draco winced at the spin and squeeze of the floo, gripping Harry’s hand as tightly as he could. He felt like his composure was starting to slide away with each wave of pain but it took no time at all for the pair of them to arrive in the reception of the hospital. “We’re finally here,” Harry said, his voice relieved. “We’re going to have our little one! I can hardly wait.”

Draco had only taken one step out of the fireplace when a sudden excruciating pain tore through his middle. The sensation was startling, new and agonising. Sparks flew at the edges of his vision and his ears rang. He reached out blindly for Harry, trying to grab handfuls of his husband’s clothes. This contraction was only three minutes since his last one and it took all of Draco’s breath.

“Breathe, baby,” Harry murmured into his ear. “You’re doing so great. You really are. You’re doing so brilliantly.”

Draco wasn’t quite as sure. As the pain started to loosen he realised that his trousers were saturated. Amniotic fluid had drenched his thighs and pooled between his legs, soaking wetly into the carpet. Draco was so shocked that he barely registered how embarrassed he would usually have been. He was too surprised to do anything but stare as the widening stain. “Merlin,” he groaned, entirely terrified. “My waters. Gods, they’ve broken!”

“They certainly have,” a Magi-Midwife said to him. She had brought a wheelchair and helped Draco settle down into it. Everything felt agonising and the contractions didn’t seem to have much of a break now at all. They were piling on top of each other with all the fury and violence of a curse. Draco wanted to apologise to the witch but he couldn't quite manage to get the words out of his throat. The Magi-Midwife didn’t seem miffed though. “Let’s get you both settled down and we’ll firecall your Mediwix, tell them that baby is on the way! It doesn’t look like you’ve got much longer to go now.”

Draco was more than gratified to be shown into the small private room where he would have Harry and his dear little baby. It had been charmed to a cool temperature that felt lovely against his skin and there were tiny lights that glowed brightly in the semi-darkness. It all felt very intimate and cosy.

Harry helped him to change out of his now-soaked tee shirt and pyjama bottoms and dried his skin off with a magic spell while Judith, their Magi-Midwife, gave him a clean green hospital gown to wear, sterilising everything with a wave of her wand. She and Harry helped Draco to get himself comfortable on the bed and magicked the water beside his bed icy cold.

“Try and keep hydrated,” she asked as she took leave of them both. “You’ve got a lot of work still to do. You both need to try to relax as much as you can.”

Draco thought that relaxing was a very big ask indeed. Another contraction raced through his middle and he moaned through the agony of it, fidgeting and restless. No position felt right to him and there was nothing at all he could do to escape the oppressive pain. “Oh bloody hell,” Draco gritted out. “It’s so fucking awful. I can’t do it.”

Harry didn’t agree. He smoothed Draco’s wet hair back from his forehead and stroked a finger down Draco’s shivering skin. “You can, love,” he said. “You can because we’ve wanted this for so long. Don’t fight the pain. Every bit of it opens you up a little bit more and brings us closer to meeting our baby. Moan or growl if you need to, Draco but don’t fight it.” The pain finally ebbed away and Draco was left with a deep, pulsing cramp in his pelvis.

Mediwix Blake and Blystone arrived not long afterwards and then things really began to move along at a quicker pace. Blystone gave Draco a quick examination and pronounced him very close to fully dilated.

“Wonderful,” she smiled, snapping off her gloves and cleaning her hands with a quick Scourgify. “You’re eight centimetres and so very close now. You must have worked very hard at home.” She held up the water glass up so that Draco could take a small sip through the straw. “You’re doing great! Keep it up and you’ll have your little one in your arms before you know it.”

There wasn’t much for Draco to do then except endure it.

Draco had known that this was the only time in his life that he’d ever birth a child and so he’d made the choice on his birth-plan to forgo pain potions. Harry hadn’t loved that idea whatsoever- he couldn’t abide the idea of seeing his husband in pain- but Draco had stood firm. He’d wanted to be fully present throughout. Now he was finally in the moment though, Draco was rather regretting his naivety.

He laboured on as Harry fussed and fretted around him, dampening a flannel with cold water and wiping the sweat off Draco’s neck and face.

“Eight centimetres!” Harry said excitedly as the Mediwix left the room to give the pair a minute to prepare themselves for the final stretch. Even through the haze of pain Draco could see that his husband's face was shiny with love. He kissed Draco’s fingers, one at a time. “That’s almost time to push!”

“Almost doesn’t count,” Draco croaked out, his voice thin and tired. Typical overzealous Harry. Draco wasn’t convinced that he was going to make it through the next few minutes, let alone manage an actual push! “They’re either here- oof!- or they are not!” Draco moaned and winced, a new pain rolling through his middle. “And I assure you that they’re not here yet, Potter!”

~*~*~

Half an hour later and it was finally time for Draco to begin pushing.

Mediwix Blake gave him a final examination and pronounced him fully dilated. Harry helped him onto his hands and knees and he spread his hips; opening his body wide for the final, active part of the birth.

Everything suddenly felt too bright and very overpowering. It was hard even to stay focussed on Harry beside him or the encouraging words of the Mediwix surrounding him. The hospital gown felt like it was grating on his skin and he screamed at Harry to vanish it.

Draco was barely floating atop a sea of pain and trying valiantly not to get sucked beneath the surface. He felt like this pain was a living thing, an enemy that he had to duel in the very depths of his soul. If he capitulated, for even a moment, then Draco thought he might be lost forever.

All the scary tales that Pansy, Millie and Astoria had tortured Draco with for the last few months turned out to be entirely and horribly truthful. Active labour made an earthshaking change to both the nature and force of his contractions. Draco felt a sudden, all-consuming need to bear down and expel their little life out of him and into the world.

The wizard couldn't do anything but surrender to his body’s raw need and he shoved his chin down, straining and pushing downwards with every muscle.

“It’s time,” Draco cried, gripping the quilt in his clammy hands. His baby felt massive and his muscles felt like they were going to snap into pieces. “I’m close,” he explained in a shaky voice. “I can feel them… Ah. I think I need them out now.”

“You’ll have them in your arms in no time at all,” Blake replied. “You’re doing great! When your body tells you to push then do so with everything that you’ve got!”

Draco felt another contraction within the space of a minute. The pain was fearsome and it felt like it might tear him apart but at least he could feel the baby moving downwards now. It only took three more pushes to bring their baby to crown.

The skin around his opening felt impossibly hot and tight. “I’m going to tear,” Draco managed, the salt of his sweat stinging his eyes. “I won’t stretch. I-I can’t.”

“But you already have,” Mediwix Blystone said. Harry braced Draco to stop him from falling while the Mediwix took Draco’s hand and brought it downwards. She guided it over his bulging perineum to feel a sliver of something wet and warm that Draco couldn’t identify. “You’ve already done all the hard work, Draco! That’s your baby. They’re already here. A few more pushes and they’ll be yours to love forever!”

“A few more pushes!” Harry chimed in. Draco could see him out of the corner of his eye. His husband’s face was flushed red and tears were tracking down his cheeks. “A baby, Draco! Our baby!”

That was all the motivation that Draco needed.

He nodded, already feeling the start of a massive contraction build up inside him. The same uncontrollable urge as before took him over entirely and Draco bore down. He panted and pushed, moaned and hissed as the burn intensified to almost unendurable levels.

“Harry,” he pleaded, “it hurts… Ah. It hurts so fucking badly. Please.”

Everything was white hot and impossible and Draco whimpered. His body was working without his conscious control and then, suddenly, the fiery stretch came to an abrupt stop.

“Their head is out,” Mediwix Blystone announced, giving Draco a squeeze of his shoulder. “Beautiful, wonderful work! One more push like that and it’ll all be done.”

Draco wasn’t sure he had another push in him. His whole body was a mass of tremors and he knew that he was running on his very last vestiges of adrenaline. There wasn’t any choice though. Their little one had to be born and Draco knew that he had to be braver than he’d ever been before in his life.

The wizard pushed once more, the pain as fervid and torturous as before and Draco knew that he couldn’t bear it. He cried out, as loudly as he could and just at the very second the burn crested, the agony ceased. Draco felt the strange slick slide of their baby’s small body slide free from his body and into the waiting arms of their Mediwix.

Draco heard their baby before he saw them. “It’s a girl,” Harry said, his voice breaking with emotion as the sound of dissatisfied baby cries filled the room. “And she’s stunning, love! The most perfect baby there’ll ever be.”

It was but a moment of work to get Draco back into a supine position on the hospital bed and he felt a dozen healing spells wash over his flushed, sweating body. Unchecked tears streamed down the wizard’s face as he watched Harry cut through the cord with a nervous, wobbly flick of his wand. Draco’s first thoughts were that their daughter was impossibly small and unbelievably beautiful.

Lyra was pink, covered in waxy vernix and wailing loud enough to wake up the dead. Mediwix Blystone cast a protective magic spell over her small body before wrapping her in a receiving blanket that Narcissa had charmed to always be soft against her baby-skin.

She was as bald as an egg and one of the Mediwix pulled a purple woolly hat over the head.

“That’s our baby,” Harry said, his own face awash with tears. “Our little girl. We’ve waited so long, Draco, but now she’s finally with us.” Mediwix Blystone placed Lyra in Draco’s waiting arms. It only took a few more small pushes and Draco was safely delivered of his placenta.

Mediwix Blake tucked a thin cotton sheet around him but Draco hardly noticed. He wasn’t able to take his eyes off his baby. He took in every inch of her, drinking in tiny fingernails that were smaller than petals and dainty earlobes.

Draco couldn't tell who she took after yet, but he didn’t much care about such things. She was her own person and would always be loved as such.

“We’re going to leave you both alone for a few minutes,” Blystone said kindly “Let you three get to know one another. I’ll bring you back some tea and toast, Draco. You look like you need it! If you need anything else just give us a shout.”

Their little one quietened down the very moment that she heard Draco’s familiar heartbeat. Lyra’s eyes seemed large, even for a newborn and she looked up at him with a clear gaze.

Draco’s heart felt swollen with love.

Lyra was the baby that Harry and he had waited so long for; Lyra was the baby that the Goddess had meant for them to have. Lyra was healthy, she was alive and she was theirs. Every potion, every tearful night and every disappointment seemed to recede into the past.

Draco’s future belonged to this baby and his family. Draco felt Harry’s shaky sobs beside him and he felt his husband’s powerful arms wrap around himself and Lyra both.

“Hello little Lyra Lily Narcissa,” Harry said, stroking a finger over her teensy hand. He grinned as her tiny fist wrapped around his finger. “That’s a big name for such a small person.”

Mediwix Blystone came back after a few moments, bearing a great pile of buttery toast and sweet tea and Draco was incredibly pleased at the sight. He hadn’t realised until he saw the food quite how famished and thirsty he was. The wizard had imagined a scrumptious meal and champagne to celebrate Lyra’s birth but somehow this was even more special.

Lyra passed all of her post-birth tests with flying colours and then Draco was healed of his small cuts and tears with the use of magic. Harry kept an eye on Draco while the wizard showered, worried in case he slipped over, and then he helped Draco into a pair of fresh silky green pyjamas.

Their little girl had only been with them two hours, but Draco already felt quite like his old self.

Lyra had fallen asleep not long after Harry had dressed her in her first, clumsily applied nappy and a cute little babygro embroidered with Quidditch rings. Her delicate eyelashes flickered over her chubby cheeks as she slept on, safe in her levitating Moses basket.

She was entirely unaware of all the excitement that her arrival had caused and how much she was already loved.

~*~*~

Pansy cooed over baby Lyra as soon as soon as she and Theo entered Draco’s hospital room the next day.

Draco’s best friend had brought them a luxurious Elf-knitted baby quilt, decorated with a pattern of snitches that danced and flew all over the material.

“I couldn't resist buying one for little Christabel as well,” she admitted with a giggle, giving her own bump a friendly pat. “I spent far more galleons in the baby emporium in Diagon than I was expecting to!” She smiled down at Lyra’s newborn face. “You and Potter have certainly made a very adorable baby, Draco. She’s perfect. There’s no wizard in the world that deserves this happiness more than you.” She pressed a loving kiss onto the top of Draco’s head. “A word of advice from someone who has been where you are. Treasure every moment. Cherish little Lyra because she’ll grow before you know it.”

Narcissa arrived to see Lyra just as Pansy and Theo were leaving. Draco wasn’t used to seeing his strong, formidable Mother moved to tears but, as she carefully cradled her new grandchild, the witch quivered with barely concealed emotion.

“She’s a beautiful blessing,” Narcissa said. “She looks just like you did when you were little, Draco… The shape of her face. Her little nose.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and addressed Harry. “I know this is a day that you must miss your own parents very much, Harry- I can only guess at your pain today- and I can only promise you that I’ll make it my life mission to support and love all three of you.”

Harry took Lyra from Cissa’s arms and Draco gave his Mother a long, affectionate hug. It was obvious from the small smiles that Narcissa kept giving her granddaughter that she was very much in love with her already.

It was a busy day. Harry and Draco had a battalion of friends, family and loved ones, all of whom wanted to share this most special of days with the pair of them. Colleagues arrived with fruit baskets and muslin squares, while Weasleys of all shapes and sizes arrived with home knitted clothes and Honeydukes chocolates. After only a few hours Draco was getting weary while Lyra was fretting and overwhelmed.

It was time for the three of them to just be a family and their Magi-Midwife shooed the last of the visitors away.

Harry spelled the door locked with a Colloportus before joining his family under the bed-covers.

“We’re finally parents,” Harry whispered, smoothing Draco’s hair behind his cheek and pressing a chaste kiss onto his jaw. “Harry, Draco and Lyra Potter-Malfoy. What do you think to that?” he asked. “I think we sound like we belong together. Think we sound like a proper little family.”

“A proper little family,” Draco agreed. His eyes were closing and he could feel himself drifting away to sleep. He lay Lyra down into her Moses basket before crawling back into Harry’s arms. “I’m happy. I couldn't ask for anything more Potter,” he murmured. “We’re finally parents.”

~*~*~

2011

Lyra’s first birthday was held at Malfoy Manor.

Draco dressed his daughter in soft orange leggings and green jumper with a pattern of jumping cauldrons around the hem and both parents snapped photo after photo.

Narcissa had insisted on a lavish occasion with all the wizarding trimmings. Of course, Harry hadn’t been sure. “She’ll not remember it,” he had complained as he fed Lyra her favourite banana and cloudberry porridge over breakfast. “Seems a bit silly really.” Draco had really enjoyed the occasion though and Harry had relaxed into it as the hours had passed.

The birthday witch had babbled happily while she was passed between her adoring relations. Pansy had attended with baby Belle and Mother had been an effervescent host. Lyra had sat on Draco’s knee while the time-honoured speeches and traditional gifts were made.

There were cheers and clapping as the charm was cast that added Lyra’s name to their family tapestry. Lyra Lily Narcissa Potter-Malfoy’s name was a tiny, curled-up bud that grew from Harry and Draco’s own leaves.

Lyra was given a symbolic peacock feather to welcome her as the confirmed Malfoy heir as well as a gorgeously illustrated copy of Beedle the Bard where every picture moved as the words were read aloud.

Draco had to hide his smile though. Their little one was far more excited about the three tier rainbow birthday cake that the Manor Elves had lovingly baked for the special occasion.

Lyra had waved her arms in happiness as Harry had fed her a couple of tasty mouthfuls. More of the icing had gotten onto her clothes than had gotten into her mouth but Draco hadn’t really minded. That was part of the fun of being a wizard. Stains could all be vanished with a simple wave of his wand.

Draco spied Harry across the library. He looked utterly content, chatting animatedly with Neville Longbottom, Blaise and Astoria. There wasn’t any hint of falseness about his husband’s smile or in his manner. Harry was finally as content as Draco could have wished for. Draco popped Lyra onto his hip and walked over to his beloved, pressing a soft, surprising kiss upon his cheek.

“Fatherhood suits you both,” Neville said, raising his champagne flute in tribute. “And your little one is thriving. Both of you look so happy.”

Draco blushed pink. Every word was true but it seemed a bit conceited to say so. He clinked his own glass against Neville’s own and stroked a finger through Lyra’s tight dark curls. “We really are,” he admitted. “She’s such an absolute cherub, Nev. There isn’t a day we don’t thank the Goddess for our little girl.”

Draco knotted his fingers through Harry’s own and the two of them spent the next couple of hours mingling as the evening shadows began to lengthen. As the sun began to set behind the Malfoy maze, the guests gathered together to sing Lyra a final Happy Birthday.

Their baby clapped and smiled as Harry and Draco opened her gigantic, generous pile of gifts.

Lyra was so lucky and so very, very loved.

~*~*~

2013

It only took three years for Lyra to show her first signs of magical ability. Lyra and Draco had been playing with her toy ark, lining up the hippogriffs, the crups and the dragons, when the wizard saw a wooden Welsh Green float up in front of the little girl’s stare.

It only dropped to the floor when Lyra’s gaze moved over to her daddy, a wide smile filling her beautiful face.

Draco knew that he should be elated and part of him truly was. Three was very young for such a potent display of magic and this was proof that their daughter would come into her full magical inheritance before many more years had passed.

Part of Draco felt wistful though.

Magic meant an education at Hogwarts. Magic meant that their baby would have to leave Harry and him behind. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to face that.

“Daddy!” Lyra cried out, her little voice full of blissful joy. “The dragon flyed up and up! I imagined it and then up he flyed!”

Draco swallowed his sadness down deep into the pit of his belly. This was a significant, happy day. He folded Lyra into his arms and cuddled her tightly to him.

“He did, darling,” Draco said, giving her a big smile. “You made him fly and that was clever. You’re going to be a magnificent witch, lovely girl, and both your daddies are going to be very proud of you. We already are.”

~*~*~

2017

Harry gave Lyra her first proper flying lesson when she was seven.

It was traditional in the Parkinson-Nott household for the children to receive their first training broom at that age, so Harry and Draco had followed suit. It felt like the perfect age to get into the air.

Lyra had gasped when she’d unwrapped her Cleansweep Junior on her birthday and then she had hugged both her daddies in turn. “It’s brilliant,” she’d said, running her fingers over the polished wood in awed disbelief that this broomstick was really hers to keep forever. “Can we take it out now?” she’d asked. “Please? Just for five minutes?”

Harry laughed at her enthusiasm.

“I didn’t even see a broom ‘till I was eleven, Lyra-baby,” he’d laughed, placing a bowl of Muggle cereal in front of her. “You can eat your breakfast first sweet-pea, and then maybe we’ll all go and see your Nana Cissy at the Manor. We’ll take your Cleansweep and then maybe we’ll see how she flies.”

Draco decided to stay on the ground, setting cushioning spells in case of accident and Accio’ed deckchairs for Mother and he to sit on. Draco took a dozen photographs as his little girl sat behind Harry and the two of them rose up into the air.

Lyra wrapped her short little arms around Harry’s middle and rested her head on in Harry’s back and Draco felt his heart clench at how alike they were. Lyra had Harry’s thick, untameable black hair, his dimples and his ready, easy smile. Her only features that were really Malfoy-esque were her stormy grey eyes and her ready temper whenever she felt like there’d been an injustice in the world.

Draco watched as the two of them flew in lazy circles around the Manor grounds, Lyra shrieking with wonderment and laughing loudly. They never went over a few miles an hour but Draco could tell that their daughter was thrilled with the experience. Of course Lyra was all Potter: flying was a passion that coursed through her blood. He’d have bet all the galleons in his vault that his baby made the first pick in her house Quidditch team.

After a short while the two of them landed and then it was Lyra’s turn to float alone on her broomstick. Harry and he went over every safety rule they could think of and then Draco showed her how to mount properly.

Lyra set off, levitating several meters above the ground. The witch soon gained her confidence in the sky. “Can I go faster?” she demanded after a few minutes, diving down to the ground to hover beside Draco. “And just a little bit higher? I’ll be careful, I promise!”

Draco felt his pulse race at the thought of Lyra alone on a racing broom- even a children’s model- but he knew that letting go was part of being a father. He nodded his assent to Harry and gave his daughter a hug. “Alright then. As long as you’re cautious and watch everything that your other daddy does. He’s the best I’ve ever seen on a broom, Lyra love. Follow him and you’ll do just fine.”

Lyra giggled in sheer delight and then Draco watched as she and Harry swooped up into the sky.

~*~*~

2019

Lyra’s ninth birthday party was held at the Parkinson-Nott Estate. She and Christabel Parkinson-Nott were the very closest of friends and the two of them could often be found exploring in the dusty attics, or wheedling treats and chocolates from Mifty and the other Elves.

The day was warm and pleasant and the guests celebrated with drinks and canapés on the veranda. It wasn’t anywhere near as ostentatious or formal as Narcissa’s Manor celebrations but everything was lovely nevertheless. It seemed to Draco that no time at all had passed since Theo had made a toast to ‘new babies and new beginnings’ on that very spot, yet his girl seemed to grow up more with everyday that passed them by.

Lyra was tall and willowy, far more brilliant on a broom than he’d been at the same age and probably more intelligent than he had been too. Draco and Harry didn’t think that the Professors at Hogwarts would know what had hit them when their daughter arrived in two years time.

Their friends had all been incredibly generous. The Parkinson-Notts had brought Lyra a new telescope so that she could study Draco’s and her own constellations. Neville Longbottom had brought Lyra a copy of Goshawk’s Guide to Herbology as well as her own set of trowels. Magical plants and fungi were a budding interest of hers. Narcissa brought Lyra a beginner’s cauldron which was well received too.

The most exciting gift was kept for last though. Draco and Harry had brought Lyra her own pet owl from Eeyops Emporium, trusting that their daughter was old enough now to be responsible for her needs.

Morgana was a fluffy white Snowy Owl, freckled with brown spots and the prettiest amber eyes.

“She’s exactly like my first owl,” Harry explained to his awestruck daughter. “The shopkeeper thought they might even be distantly related. Hedwig was a good loyal bird and I’m sure that Morgana here will be just as faithful. Owls are a big responsibility, Lyra baby, but your daddy and I both think that you’re ready.”

“She’s beautiful,” Lyra whispered, her eyes wide with joy. “Thank you! I love her so much.”

Lyra took Morgana away to meet Christabel and Draco and Harry walked over to join Pansy and Theo. They clinked their glasses together in celebration of another successful birthday party.

“I can’t believe how big they’ve both gotten,” Pansy said, her brown eyes drifting over the sight of their daughters. “Hogwarts in two years! I can hardly bear the idea. I’ve done it three times and it never gets easier, Draco! It’s like a part of your heart leaves with them.”

Draco smiled sadly. He already felt grief at the idea of losing Lyra. Harry and he had wanted her for so long and so everyday since had been a wondrous miracle. He leant into Harry’s warm embrace and let the dark haired wizard wrap his arms around his shoulders. Harry brushed a small kiss onto his cheek.

“I love you both so much,” he whispered into the shell of Draco’s ear. “Lyra and you have given me a better life than a small boy, locked inside a cupboard under the stairs could ever have imagined.”

~*~*~

2021

The day that Draco had been so dreading had finally arrived. A fine-looking Eagle Owl swooped through their lounge window, bearing a letter addressed to a Miss Lyra Lily Narcissa Potter-Malfoy. It bore a familiar crest and a motto that felt almost engraved into his and Harry’s hearts.

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

Lyra tore the letter open and shouted with unrestrained glee. Their little girl had received her Hogwarts letter. It was all official. In less than a month Lyra would be leaving her home behind.

Draco knew that this wasn’t goodbye but he couldn’t help feeling a deep sadness. Lyra would be home for the long vacations but somehow this letter felt like the end of a blessed era.

Gone would be the days of lazy weekend walks through Hampstead Heath followed by coffee and cake in the Elven Cafe on Diagon. Gone would be the days of reading with Lyra on a blanket in the afternoon sunshine while Harry gardened around them. There’d be no more family dinner times or surprise trips to the Dragon Sanctuary to visit the newborn hatchlings. It was hard to accept that Lyra was really leaving.

Still, there was nothing to be done except smile and clap. His baby was overjoyed with her acceptance letter and Draco couldn't bear to spoil her happy day.

“It’s always been a long-standing family tradition,” Draco announced to his family across the breakfast table. “Every Malfoy goes school shopping on the day that they receive their Hogwarts letter.” He perused the letter and then showed it to Harry. “Mmm. You’ve got the telescope, the cauldron and most of the books already,” he teased, “and I doubt that they’ll be another student with as fine an owl as Morgana… What do you think, Harry? I’m not sure if there is anything else Lyra here needs?”

Harry pretended to look at the list once more. He squinted at the fancy text through his glasses. “I suppose you could do with a new winter coat,” he mused, looking over at his daughter “and a pair of dragon-hide gloves…. Oh yes,” he added, his green eyes of full of mischief. “You’ll need to get yourself a wand, baby girl. You won’t get very far at Hogwarts without one.”

~*~*~

Diagon Alley was always busy on a Hogwarts letter day.

Witches, wizards and wix streamed into Eeyops Emporium and each left clutching a cage. Bulstrode and Malfoy’s Potion Emporium was doing a fantastic trade selling introductory potion ingredients and pewter cauldrons. There was a line outside of Madam Malkins that was three families deep.

“What kind of wand do you think I’ll get?” Lyra asked excitedly. “I’ve read up on all the woods. I know that you got hawthorn,” she said, knotting her thin fingers through Draco’s own, “with a unicorn hair core, and that you,” she said, taking Harry’s hand, “got holly with a phoenix feather core! Do you think I’ll get the same?”

The three of them shopped for textbooks, parchment, a leather travelling case and all the robes that Lyra would ever need. Everything was Reducio’ed and sent home via owl delivery. It was finally time for the main event of their day. The three of them made their way to Ollivanders.

Getting their wand was one of the most important rites of passage for any young wix and Lyra was no exception. Lyra’s wand was ten and a half inches. It was hazel, carved with esoteric runes and had a dragon heart-string core. It was flexible to grip and tingled with magic. Draco gave Harry a watery smile and wiped away a stray tear.

Their little girl was growing up.

~*~*~

It was ten fifty-five on the 1st September and Draco, Harry and Lyra were stood, waiting on Platform 9¾.

The smell of soot filled the air and the concourse thrummed with a nervous, eager energy.

Lyra was practically vibrating with excitement at the sight of the red steam engine waiting for her to board. Her bags, boxes and Morgana’s cage had been already been taken ahead by some of the prefects. All that was left to do was the saying of goodbyes. Just in front of them Phillipe and Ariadne Parkinson-Nott were making their way onto the coaches with a gang of their friends. Christabel was still in Pansy’s arms, getting in a last sneaky hug before it was time to leave.

The train blew its five minute warning whistle. “Okay,” Harry said, fussing with Lyra’s long dark hair. “Time for you to go, Lyra baby. Write as soon as you can… Enjoy every minute.” He gave her a final kiss. “Try not to get into too much trouble and if you do, try not to get caught.”

Draco could barely speak. He pulled Harry and Lyra both in close, breathing in their scent. His and Harry’s was a rare love, two halves of the same soul.

Lyra was their happy ending. Their miracle. The joy that had completed their happiness.

They hugged Lyra tightly, the little girl that Harry and he had made with the depth of their love. A part of Harry and a part of him. Merlin, but Draco would have lay down his life for the pair of them without a second thought.

“The train is about to leave Lyra,” Draco said, kissing her forehead, “and you need to be on it. Love you, my darling girl. I always will”

~*~*~THE END~*~*~