28/29/30/31

Chapter Twenty-Eight: H.O.M.E.

"How'd you do it, Draco?" Granger asked as she passed him a bowl of figs. He'd never liked figs until the pregnancy.

"Please don't accuse me of being in league with our dotty Headmaster. Why he gave us 300 points-"

"No, I actually agree with that. I'm talking about the N.E.W.T.s. How did you get more than I did?"

"Oh. I took an independent study in Elven Magic."

"Why? Just to get more N.E.W.T.s than me?"

Well, yeah. But that was beside the point. "Not everything is about you, Granger."

She frowned but continued anyway. "But we can't access Elven magic. It's useless to us."

"Not totally useless. It's true we can't use the magic they use. Wizarding magic is internal, unique and intrinsic to the wizard, while Elves tap into the magic around them, boosting their own magical signature by accessing the inherent power of nature. But there are some aspects that we can use. Like if they tap into an ash tree for a healing spell, should we think about using ash trees in healing potions?"

She nodded. "I get it. If a particular item boosts their spells, maybe it could boost ours as well. That's brilliant. Why hasn't it been done before?"

"It has-to a limited degree. The problem is with the translation of Elven spells. They're mostly thoughts instead of words, and are hard to write down properly. It would help if we had an interpreter, but as we learned from Binns, the Elves haven't been friendly with wizards since 1955."

"And they have never explained why that happened," she agreed with an air of frustration so profound, that he wondered just how hard she had looked for the explanation. How very muggle of her. Any wizard could tell you that Elves did what they wanted to when they wanted to. "So which translation spell are you using? Something new?" she continued.

Draco shook his head. "I'm not using a spell."

"Then how-"

"Draco is fluent in Elven," Harry interrupted and Draco noted he was beaming with pride.

How odd.

"I wouldn't say 'fluent,'" Draco said modestly. "I haven't actually had a conversation with an actual Elf. One of the few species our balmy-er, esteemed Headmaster hasn't hired as a professor here."

"Did you learn the language for this course?" Granger asked.

"Of course not." That would have been silly-and impossible to do. Did she have no concept of just how difficult a language Elven was? "I've been speaking Elven and five other languages since I was a child. The Malfoys have business interests all over the world. Father thought learning different languages was only prudent."

"But no wizard has business with Elves anymore."

He shrugged. Lucius had left orders with his tutor and so he had been taught. He'd soon exceeded his tutor's knowledge and learned more on his own. "There's always the future," he said casually.

"Are you going to continue your studies?"

A nosy chit, wasn't she? He nodded. "Since I'm only allowed to do theoretical magic at the moment anyway, I thought I'd continue."

"I'm glad," she said, smiling at him. "Perhaps your work will help us protect Hogwarts."

Draco smiled politely while mentally rolling his eyes. Other than the fact that the castle was his home for the foreseeable future, he couldn't give a mustard seed care about protecting Hogwarts. It was all about protecting Draco Malfoy.

...wasn't it?

He still didn't have the answer to that as the dungeons emptied the next morning. Excited Slytherins were headed home to tell their parents about winning the House Cup while he and his merry band of minions stood in the shadows and watched them go. It was all suddenly so real, what they had chosen, how different their lives were going to be this summer.

"You think the Great Hall still has our colors up?" Nott asked as they trudged to breakfast.

"No one else is here so why bother changing?" Pansy asked. Because the school was empty, they could finally walk around without their robes since no one would see Draco in his "natural" state.

"Maybe the magic was only designed to last a certain number of hours," Nott countered.

Draco only half-heartedly listened to the discussion. His mind was too full of "should have been"s. He should have been on the Hogwarts Express, bugging the younger students and annoying Potter & Company. He should have been anticipating seeing his father and exclaiming proudly that he'd single-handedly won the House Cup for the Slytherins. He should have been wondering why his mother had re-decorated his rooms for the umpteenth time.

He should have been wondering how the fuck he could get out of getting the dark mark burned into his arm.

Maybe the should-have-been's were better off that way.

"Morning."

He looked up to see Potter coming through the large doors that led to the grounds. "Morning, Harry. Did you see the Hogwarts Express off?"

Potter nodded. "It was odd seeing it go off without me. But I'm definitely not sad about that."

If he lived with muggles, he wouldn't be either. "Any idea of when Dumbledore will come to collect us?" The Headmaster had told them they would be moving to their new quarters in the old Lower School.

"You know Dumbledore," Harry said as an answer.

Which meant no one had any idea, including the doddering professor himself. Sigh. Surely the other side was more efficient than this. He could see Voldemort winning simply because Dumbledore gave Harry the wrong directions to the war. Or the right directions to the wrong war.

But then again, Voldemort was as mad as a hatter, too, and maybe between the two of them, everyone would take the wrong turn to the war, leaving the world to spin in one big happy piece.

Yeah, right. "Pass the chutney." He ignored the strange look his fellow breakfasters gave him. So what that he now liked chutney on everything. And the hotter the better, he thought as he burped and a stream of flame jetted out of his mouth. He grinned at Crabbe and Goyle. At least they'd figured out not to sit directly across from him.

"Want to hang out at the lake today, at least until the Headmaster shows up?" Pansy asked.

That was followed by a discussion of asking the house elves for a picnic lunch, who knew the protective charms to keep the squid out of the way, and how cold the water might be.

It was all pretty mind-numbing.

"We could stay inside if you want."

Draco awoke from his light dozing, grateful to whomever had moved his plate out of the way. If he'd fallen asleep in the remains of his breakfast, he'd have to obliviate the entire table. And he could. His father had taught him how two summers ago. He looked blearily at Harry, who had asked him the question. "I can sleep down by the lake as easily as here," he said self-mockingly.

"Should you be sleeping this much?"

Draco nodded. "Pomfrey says it's pretty common among witches. Besides, lately it's just been the mornings. By afternoon, I'm back to normal. At the lake you'll have to cast the sun shield on me and make sure I have plenty of water. Oh, and you'll have to come down to the dungeons and carry my down-filled duvet. I couldn't possibly lay on anything else."

"Okay. I could transfigure one of those beach umbrellas, too. Just in case it's too bright outside."

Draco cut his eyes at his companion to see if he was being cheeky, but all he could see was utter sincerity. This being pregnant had its perks.

He burped some more flames and watched Nott duck out of the way.

Plenty of perks.

It was only after they had lunch by the lake that Dumbledore ambled down to the shore and invited them to follow him to their new living quarters.

"If we don't get there soon, you're going to have to cast Mobilicorpus on me," Draco panted twenty minutes later. They had gone through arbors on the grounds, tunnels in the dungeons, and moving staircases in no less than five different towers, and Dumbledore looked like he was ready to break into a skip.

"Ah, here we are," Dumbledore said excitedly as they entered a long corridor that looked exactly like the last ten corridors they'd traversed.

"How are we supposed to protect the other students if we can't even remember how to get to them?" Blaise muttered, slightly bent over as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oh, the more familiar areas of the Upper School are right through this door," Dumbledore said as they passed a heavy carved door. "Opens into the area just outside the Great Hall-I think. "

"Then why-" Draco started to hiss, then realized he'd just be wasting breath he didn't have.

Dumbledore continued blithely down the hall and into a large room with a fireplace, sofas, and assorted tables. "On the right are the Witches' barracks." He opened a pair of doors. A double row of beds lined the long room. "And here on the left, the Wizards' barracks." The rooms were identical except that the girls' colors were pastel and the boys' were jewel-tone. Draco was debating the best spot in the room-closer or farther away from the washroom-when Dumbledore continued.

"And here," he paused in front of a third set of doors, "are Harry and Draco's rooms."

Rooms? They had their own set of rooms? Of course they did, he realized as he flung open the doors. They were a bonded pair. They needed privacy for sex and the like. The front parlor was kind of small, but big enough to confer privately with the other Slytherins if they needed to meet. Off to the side was a glass door that led to what looked like a small private courtyard. He exchanged a grin with Harry; they had a back garden and even though there wasn't a large tree, they'd put up a swing somehow. They moved toward another door. The bedroom-which was the exact same as their "honeymoon" one, as well as the bath. Which made him wonder... No matter. He sat on the bed with a satisfied smile. This was working out perfectly. The Plan was perfect. And the bed was-inviting.

Just as he started to lay back, Dumbledore's voice called out- "Come along, Harry, Draco. We must continue the tour. There are classrooms for you to visit and the Dining Hall, as well as the library and..."

Draco sighed and allowed Harry to pull him to his feet.

"These will be your training fields," Dumbledore said as he pointed at a large stretch of clear land. "Much of your physical training will take place here."

"Physical?" Pansy asked with a concerned sneer.

"I've heard that war can be very physically demanding, my dear, so we must have you in fighting form," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling at the horrified looks he was getting from the Slytherins.

Harry tried to look sympathetic, but really, the purebloods were too reliant on their wands, in his opinion. Draco was constantly fretting without the use of his wand-which quite frankly, was working out pretty well from Harry's point of view. Draco never thought much of "Savior of the Wizarding World" Harry, but he was very appreciative of "helpful, attentive, still-has-a-wand" Harry.

"What will our studies be?" Daphne asked.

"It will be a full summer for you. These are the nine classes you will be taking-" he handed out rolls of parchment, "-four a day, plus the last one which will be every day. After Sunday morning training, you will be free to enjoy the rest of that day as you see fit."

Harry read the scroll:

Arms Charms: Making Weapons Out of Common Household Items

Battlefield Transfigurations

War Potions

Offence Against the Dark Arts

Strategic Arithmancy

Magical Masses and Messes: The Art of Crowd Control

Skulls and Skulking: The DMLE Official Guide to Investigations

Introduction to Magical Law

Wandwork, Footwork, and Headwork: Physical Fitness for the Warrior Wizard

"These are eight-week beginning courses to see where your strength lies. After eight weeks, you will be evaluated and guided into curricula more suited to your individual expertise. You will also at that time begin to patrol and defend Hogwarts. The students will return and it will be your duty to make sure they are safe."

" How many members of the militia will there be?"

"Just the twenty-seven of your year-mates. You are our test group. At the end of the year, we will open the organization to any former graduate. Are there any more questions?" No one spoke. "In case you form more later, I will be available to you at any time this week. The password is 'candied snotballs.' Oh, and by the way, the Lower School and the grounds have been charmed so that whatever is spoken of here cannot be spoken of beyond here."

"You think we might have spies, Professor?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I think, dear Harry, that there are certain-facts," he looked pointedly at Draco's stomach, "that will have to come out, but will be knowledge we don't want spread around."

"Oh." Well, that made sense. Everyone was going to have to know about the bonding and the baby. If the information leaked and Voldemort found out... Harry shuddered.

"I'll leave you to get used to your new environs. All meals will be served on the usual Hogwarts schedule in the Dining Hall. Enjoy your week. Hard work starts next Monday."

The witches and wizards scattered into their designated barracks to lay claim to the bunks they wanted. While not one of them, save Harry, wouldn't have preferred to be at their childhood homes with their families, they clung to the belief that this was the only future that ensured they had a future.

Harry just hoped he wouldn't fail them.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Home

"Quite frankly, I'm concerned about who's taking the Offence post. We had some real losers as Defense professors," Blaise said and Harry, sitting opposite of the Slytherin at the dinner table, had to agree. He knew better than his companions how bad most of the Defense instructors had been, especially the one who'd been carrying Voldemort around on the back of his head.

They had just about finished the evening meal which had been punctuated with discussion, and guesses, about who would be teaching the various classes. The only one they were all sure of was the Potions class. Another class with Snape. What joy, Harry thought.

"I just hope Magical Law isn't as boring as magical history. Although after all this physical training, I could probably use a nap," Gregory Goyle said, causing everyone to laugh.

"We shall endeavor to see that no one is bored, Mr. Goyle," Dumbledore said as he appeared in the Dining Hall. "Not intentionally, anyway."

Goyle turned bright red and in defense of his new friend, Harry tried to change the subject. "We're about finished, Professor, but I'm sure the house-elves would supply you with dinner if you want to join us."

"I've already eaten, but thank you for the offer, Harry. Actually, I'm here on a rather serious matter. For security reasons, you will not be receiving owl posts in the mornings. All mail will have to be put through a variety of charms in order to assure the safety of its content."

Harry frowned. "Was there trouble with the mail today?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, no." He waved his arm and four owls flew through the door, a heavy box dangling between them.

"Who is it for?" Draco asked and Harry turned to see that his husband had turned paler than usual.

"For all the Slytherins, I'm afraid."

Draco nodded, hearing exactly what Harry was hearing. Whatever the package contained, it was bad. Very bad.

"Do we need to take defensive positions?" Harry already had his hand on his wand.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm not going to stay. I just-You each have my deepest sympathies. Don't let it discourage you. What you have chosen is right. You know that in your heads and in your hearts. Courage, dear children, courage."

"Open it, Blaise," Draco demanded as soon as the doors closed behind the Headmaster.

A wave of a wand and the sides of the box dropped outward. A pile of something tumbled out. It took Harry a few seconds to realize what he was seeing. It was mainly baby stuff-cuddly toys, dolls, various action figures, blankets, some tiny statuettes, and papers. Why had Dumbledore-He heard a strangled cry and turned toward the sound. It was Pansy. And then Millicent and Daphne. Blaise was red-eyed and so were the other guys. He turned to Draco and saw his bondmate was glaring at the pile of stuff, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. What the-Harry stared at the contents again...and it all came into focus. The cuddly toys, dolls, and action figures were all decapitated. The statuettes had parts broken off. The blankets were shredded. The papers were ripped and torn.

"My Boo-Boo," Pansy murmured and buried her head against Blaise's chest.

"Bubbie," Goyle said sadly as he reached out toward the head of an action figure.

Oh, God, Harry thought, as he realized what he was seeing. These were-the remains of childhood favorites. The Slytherin parents had apparently raided their children's rooms. Teddies. Dollies. Dummies. Rattles and teething rings. Even pre-Hogwarts awards that had animated pictures now grotesquely disfigured. He looked around at the heartbroken Slytherins and his own heart broke in sympathy. His own favorite toy, a stuffed elephant that Dudley had de-stuffed and tossed into the second bedroom, resided in the bottom of his trunk and went wherever he went because he didn't trust the Dursleys. But the Slytherins hadn't known any better. They hadn't known how truly vicious their parents could be.

The last remaining veils had been brutally ripped from their eyes.

"Your wand, Harry," Draco demanded.

Harry did as commanded, not even thinking about Draco's condition and Pomfrey's ban.

"Redintegro." The box reformed. "Mobiliarca archa." The box floated behind as Draco marched out of the Hall and into the courtyard outside the Lower School's main doors. Red-eyed, everyone followed. "Incendio."

The box burst into flame.

"Crabbe, Goyle, get the stash." The two headed off while the rest watched the box and its contents turn to ash. "Nadorhuanrim! Amin delotha lle, Atar! Qualma!" Draco spat, his voice trembling.

Whatever Draco had said in Elvish was probably the same thing Harry was thinking in English, but enough was enough. Draco's arm was also shaking and Harry reached out to retrieve his wand. "It's done," he said gently. "Let's go inside."

Draco jerked the wand back into his possession and muttered something. The ashes disappeared. "Return to sender, bastard!" He gave Harry the wand back and strolled into the castle without looking back.

The "stash" ended up being crates of butterbeer and a few bottles of firewhisky. The girls had conjured up some decorations for the common room and said it was a celebration of freedom and housewarming party. But Harry knew a wake when he saw one. After the initial blast of loud music and feigned excitement, the room quickly fell into a somber depression, helped along by the firewhisky. Moody music played in the background while the Slytherins sat in two's and three's, talking quietly or just leaning on each other.

"Dance with me."

Harry looked up at his demanding husband. Draco, due to his condition, was the only one completely sober. The un-tempered pain in his eyes made Harry eager to do anything he wanted and he quickly got to his feet. As Draco's arms wrapped around him and the blond head dropped to his shoulder, he realized that what Draco wanted was more of a hug than a dance. He was happy to supply either. And when the hug turned into kisses, he had no complaints as well.

There was a second of brief concern when he found himself in their bedroom without a single memory of how he got there, but Draco's kisses wove this haze of pure sensation so dense, so all-encompassing, that his mind just couldn't seem to claw through and the concern vanished along with his shirt. When Draco's shirt didn't disappear as well, his mind surfaced enough to realize what the problem was and his body, his lips in particular, bent to caress the bulge that his bondmate was apparently ashamed of.

"Mine," he whispered against Draco's soft skin.

The shirt joined his own.

There was one more hesitant moment when his conscience fought against the tide to point out that there was a chance he was taking advantage of a grieving, heartsick Draco. But he was seventeen and his body was in good physical shape; his conscience didn't stand a chance. Soon there were touches in places never touched save his own hands. Soft touches and hard touches and touches that sounded like cotton upon cotton and other sounds that reminded him of the lake lapping upon the shore. Oh, and the tastes. Salt and bitter and tartness and something that was so Draco...so very, very Draco. And he knew that he was supposed to hold back, that he was supposed to wait for Draco, that it would be better if he peeled himself from the edge. But he couldn't hold on. He couldn't not give in. He couldn't not succumb to the power building up inside him. He was going to-

-shiver from the breeze on his privates?

He opened his eyes and even without his glasses, he could make out Draco sitting on the far side of the bed, hunched over and breathing heavily. What the fuck?

He realized he'd said that aloud when a timid, "I'm sorry," answered him.

He found himself out of breath as well. He'd seen that hunched figure before. Heard that timid voice. Oh, shit. Oh, God, Merlin, or whoever the fuck was in charge, what had he done?

"You pushed me down. You were on top of me and I-"

Told you so, his conscience taunted.

Bugger off, he told it as he tried to pull himself together enough that he could lie to Draco and tell him it was okay, that he understood. Well, he wasn't lying about the understood part, but the okay... He was still so hard that it hurt and his conscience was blithely telling him how wrong that was, that he had to be a very dark wizard indeed to still be hard in the face of the utter misery that was wafting from Draco.

"I need to-I have to-" he stammered. He looked around the room frantically and gave a gasp of relief when he saw the bathroom door. "I'll just be a-"

But when he stood, Draco was in front of him, blocking his way. "Harry," he said softly. And then, Draco touched him again.

Harry came. And came. Until his knees buckled and he was a humiliated lump at Draco's feet. He found himself crying, not just because he'd made an utter fool of himself and he had completely blown the first and only time he'd ever have at having consensual sex, but also because it had felt so good.

"Fucking virgin," Draco muttered above him. "Come on. Let's clean you up, and then give it another go, eh?"

Huh? He looked at the hand Draco held out to him and shook his head. Draco was trying to be noble and strong and all that Gryffindor crap again. For him. And he wasn't worth it. Not after- "No, Draco. I should have stopped a long time ago. You're upset about not being able to go home, and I was taking advantage of that and-ouch!"

Draco again pinched the ear he'd grabbed, before letting it go and jerking Harry up by his arm. "Get on the fucking bed, Potter, and here's your wand-clean yourself!"

Harry obeyed and then Draco was kneeling above him, his hair dangling down in the candlelight to tease him. "You have neither the inclination nor the balls to take advantage of me, Potter. If I don't want you, I will say so. But apparently, because you're so fucking dense sometimes, I have to do the same when I do want you. It seems that kissing you and licking you and dragging you into the bedroom does not fit your concept of foreplay!"

"But you-" Harry started.

"Obviously, I'm going to have to top for the foreseeable future. You have a problem with that?"

Top. Which meant he had to bottom. And bottom meant sex. He shook his head. Nope. No problem at all. "Draco?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Fuck me."

And being the obedient bondmate that he was, Draco did just that.

Although he'd been thoroughly exhausted by the time he fell asleep, Harry woke early, strumming with energy and excitement. He was in bed with his husband, his lover. How absolutely extraordinary.

And Draco had been so gentle with him. Considering what Harry had done to him, he would have been within his rights to just plough his way into Harry-regardless of their bond. But he hadn't. He'd been cautious and encouraging and dare he say it-sweet. No wonder Draco had had so many previous lovers.

"Harry, if you look at me like that all day, they're going to know you're a despoiled virgin," Draco said without even opening his eyes.

"So?" Harry grinned.

"So I was supposed to have despoiled you a bit ago."

"Oh." Harry thought a moment. "Maybe it was really good because we didn't have to sneak and do it?"

"You're a Gryffindor; they'll probably believe you," Draco replied with a snort. He raised himself on his elbows to look down at Harry. "So, it was really good?"

"The best!"

"And you would know because...?"

"Because it's not just my body that's happy. I'm happy, Draco, and it's been so long since I've felt that way."

"You didn't mind that you didn't get to-?" Draco's hands came up and did a complicated, but clear, movement.

Harry blushed. "No. If I don't ever get to, it'll be okay."

Draco laughed. "You're so agreeable after you get some. I'm going to have to remember that."

Harry opened his eyes wide and blinked innocently. "You'd take advantage of me like that?"

"Every chance I get."

Harry grinned. "Sounds like fun. I'm glad you do have the inclination and the balls, Malfoy," he said, remembering what Draco had told him last night.

Draco dipped his head to kiss him. "About you taking advantage of poor, homeless me... I can't miss my home when I'm there, can I?"

"Draco?" Harry didn't have to feign his wide-eyed wonder this time.

"I've a new life now, and I don't mean just the one I carry inside me. You and the sprog, you're my family now. My family. My home."

"As the two of you are mine," Harry vowed, losing himself in the gray eyes that stared down at him.

Draco finally broke the stare as he rolled to the edge of the bed. "I swear this son of yours thinks of my bladder as his personal squishy chair. Wonder where he gets that from," he muttered as he stood. "And he wants breakfast in bed, by the way," he added as he disappeared into the toilet.

Harry grinned as he scrambled into his clothes to go get breakfast for the two-three-of them. Well, it looked like his summer hadn't changed very much. He was home. His family was making demands: Harry, do this. Harry, do that. Harry, cater to my every whim-and be quick about it! But Draco was right; although the demands were the same, his family had changed. He had a new family. A family that was his and apparently proud of it. Draco had told the Slytherins about him. Draco had kissed him in the Great Hall. Draco had married him in front of all the professors. Draco had threatened him if he hadn't slept in the same bed with him.

No cupboard.

No hiding.

No hint of shame that Harry existed in the first place.

Instead, he had a massive room and bed.

Public displays of affection.

Arrogant, smug, "yes, Harry Potter belongs to me and you better damn well respect that" open ownership.

"Don't forget the chutney, Potter," came the yell from the other room.

Yes, Harry was home for the summer.

And there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

Chapter 30: Student Warriors

Harry collapsed in a panting heap, grateful beyond belief that he'd finished his last lap of the day. He thought the Dursleys were slave-drivers. He was wrong. He thought since he'd done manual labor every summer, he'd be in better shape than everyone else. He was wrong. He thought the toughest thing about the war would be facing Voldemort. He was wrong again. He was sure that next to the physical training he was subjected to every fucking day, offing Voldemort would be like Ron beating him at chess-a sweatless, bona fide given.

"Crabbe, get your arse in gear or I'm coming out there to get it in gear for you," Draco yelled. "Goyle, step it up! Even Greengrass is outrunning you-and she's still worried that her make-up charm won't stand the heat! Put that compact away, Greengrass. If you want to run with something, try your wand. What are you laughing about, Parkinson? You have a Hufflepuff getting ready to pass you. Move it!"

If Harry had any extra air, he would be laughing. Everybody hated the physical fitness class, except Draco. Their coach was a Muggle-born who'd left the Wizarding World when he'd married a Muggle. He'd been a successful football coach in a little spot outside of London known for its American population until he discovered his new baby was a wizard. He didn't want his son suffering the culture shock he'd had when he received his Hogwarts letter, so when the offer came to get Dumbledore's Warrior Wizards in shape, he'd jumped at the chance. And when he found out that Draco couldn't physically participate, he'd made him an assistant coach. Of course, the position when to the Slytherin's head.

"Your name is Longbottom, not Lardbottom. Pick up the pace! Weasley, court the witches on your own time. With those long legs and big feet, you should've been the first one finished!"

At least Harry had figured out how Draco had learned so many languages. He was a natural mimic. He'd picked up Coach Andrews' American-tainted slang quite easily, not the least bit concerned that he had no idea what a gear was. And Harry had found out he was so good at mimicking any of the professors, that he'd tutored most of the Slytherins for their full seven years at Hogwarts.

"Get your arse up, Potter, and do a proper cool down. Finnigan, I saw how you were frowning at the text in class. The revision session starts promptly at seven. I wouldn't be late if I were you."

Now, he was tutoring any of the Ensemble that appeared at his sessions. Hermione had been ticked at first when the Gryffindors started sneaking off to study with Draco, but she was soon grateful. Hermione wasn't a mimic; she didn't pick up knowledge naturally. Hampered by being Muggleborn, which meant she was just as behind as Harry was when she received her letter to Hogwarts, she studied diligently over the summers to stay at the top of her classes. Since she didn't have time to study for, or even know what to study for, in training, she had her own revising to do, and once her pride gave in, she was thankful that the others had Draco to turn to.

"Potter," Draco said softly against his ear, startling him, "When you moan in my bed tonight, it better be because of something I've done, not because your muscles are knotting up because YOU HAVE NOT COOLED DOWN PROPERLY. Do you understand?"

Harry scrambled to his feet and began to stretch.

"Hey, Potter, guess we know who wears the robes in your relationship," Seamus yelled with an impudent grin.

"Finnigan, if you have that much air left to talk, you have enough for another lap. Let's see it!"

Seamus sighed. Draco had been listed as an assistant professor after he'd taken his N.E.W.T.s and no one had bothered to remove the title from him, so he was to be obeyed like any other instructor. Harry sort of felt sorry for his former dorm-mate as he started running. Almost.

"Hey, Seamus, guess we know who wears the robes in your relationship, too!"

His friend flipped him the bird.

Harry sat on the floor and against the wall in one of the rooms reserved for practice and watched Draco review the day's classwork with several of their fellow militia members. They were going over the Offence lesson, a couple of hexes Harry had learned last year, so he just decided to sit back and observe. And what he observed was-unsettling. Draco demonstrated the motions for the hexes with a wooden pointer, and the others were supposed to repeat the actions together. Inevitably, however, those with Muggle ties were just a beat behind. After a minute he figured out why. Muggleborns and the Muggle-reared had a built-in hesitation when it came to magic, a wonder and awe that lingered despite seven years of training, a momentary disbelief that the purebloods and those raised in Wizard homes didn't have. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

"They believe, but they don't believe," he murmured to himself, realizing that he was in the same position. He knew the spells, could duel with Aurors several years his senior, but...but as he reviewed the duels in his mind, he realized he was always consciously aware that he was performing magic. Those who'd grown up in the Wizarding world did magic instead. There was no question, no doubt that what they'd been asked to do could be done. They'd seen it, or something similar, done. They knew it was possible, and any doubts they had pertained to their individual skills, not to the magic itself. A subtle difference, but one which, given that the Death Eaters were almost all purebloods and Wizard-reared, could be devastating on a battlefield.

"Why are you sitting here all by yourself pouting, Potter? I didn't yell once at your precious Gryffindors," Draco said.

Harry looked around and saw that everyone was gone. "What would you say, Draco, if I told you I knew a spell that could change ordinary animals into dragons?"

"A particular type of dragon? Or would cats be one species and dogs another?"

Harry nodded. "Come with me." They headed to the common room and the corner where Hermione sat, using highlighting spells to mark her text. "Hermione, I know a spell that will change ordinary animals into dragons."

She frowned and lowered her wand. "Whoever told you that is just kidding, Harry. You can't turn animals into dragons. The elements that make up a dragon-"

Harry held up his hand to hush her. "Draco believed me."

"Well, he's your bondmate."

Harry shook his head. "He believed me because he believes everything is possible. That's the key to true magic, Hermione. And we, you and I and everyone else who didn't grow up in a Wizard household, don't have it. We're just...magicians, faking at being wizards and witches. Until it becomes real to us, we're not real."

She glared at Draco. "What crap have you been telling him, Malfoy? Was this your scheme all along? To get Harry alone and feed him all this blood superiority...bullshit?"

"Don't blame me," Draco said quickly. "I have no idea what he's on about."

"Draco has nothing to do with this, Hermione. Just watch, okay? Ron, come here for a minute."

Ron, who'd been waving his wand menacingly, as he was laughing, at Seamus, loped over to them. "So, what are we planning? You look like you're planning, Harry."

"I've found out how to turn ordinary animals into dragons."

Ron grinned. "Wicked. Think we can train them to fry You-Know-Who's arse?"

"Dean, could you come here a minute?"

"Oooh, invited to a top strategy meeting, am I?" the black guy said, unfolding his long body from a chair in front of the fireplace. "Must be moving up in the world."

"I've found out how to turn ordinary animals into dragons," Harry said again.

"What? How? I mean, is it true?" Dean turned to look at Hermione.

Harry sighed. A hand landed on his shoulder.

"Harry, what's going on?" Draco asked, looking concerned.

Harry tried to give him a reassuring smile, but merely managed a grimace. "We need to talk. All of us."

"About the dragon spell? Does it require some sort of...sacrifice?" Draco inquired gently.

Harry shook his head. "Let's talk, all right?"

Harry paced the bedroom while Draco slipped between the covers.

"I wish I could say I understand, Harry, but I don't. How can you not believe in magic when you've studied it and practiced it for seven years?"

His 'revelation' had been discussed until everyone decided to call it a night and sleep on the problem. "You can't understand because you've never doubted magic at any time in your life. We-we lack faith, Draco. That's the easiest way to explain it. We believe when we see it, when it occurs, but..."

"When it's out of sight, it's out of mind?" Harry nodded. Draco understood more than he gave himself credit for. "Do you think Granger will figure out how to cure you?"

Harry gave a sad laugh. "I don't think there is a 'cure,' but hopefully a visit to a muggle library might help us. They've done a lot of work in psychology."

"We don't have si-kol-ogee here."

"That's because you have mind healers who can actually go into the human mind using Legilimency. But I'm hoping this can be solved in a less invasive manner."

"And this just all came to you tonight?"

He shook his head. "I noticed something was strange with everyone's reactions to our bonding and the baby. Your Slytherins, Ron, everybody raised with magic, were, like, 'Wow, okay, congratulations.' The others were questioning the baby, the bond, and our sanity."

"Actually, your sanity; my taste," Draco pointed out with a smirk.

"Ha ha. I'm serious about this. On the battlefield, the slightest hesitation could mean the difference between life and death."

Draco yawned. "I know that, Potter. But you keep adding yourself into this, and I've never seen you hesitate at all. And I should know; I dueled with you enough."

Harry gave a sheepish look. "I cover well."

"However, I have noticed you doubt yourself a lot. You are bonded to me now. You no longer have to doubt."

"Gee, that should be a big help when I'm dueling with Voldemort."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why are you even worried about that?"

"Why do you think?" Harry asked dryly.

"According to what you told me, Voldemort was raised in a muggle orphanage. Won't he have the same disadvantage?"

Harry stilled, grinned, and with Draco giving him a baleful look, threw himself on the bed. "You're bloody brilliant."

"Of course I am. Now, come to bed like a good wizard so you can get your nightly shag before I fall asleep."

Harry leaned over and kissed him. "You're too good for me."

"Of course I am. But since I have no equal and have never wanted to live my life alone, I've been long resigned to marrying the next best thing. You should be proud of yourself for getting me, Harry." He yawned again.

Harry noted the yawn and the faint smudges beneath the gray eyes. It had been a long day. "You know, I could stand a good cuddle instead of a shag tonight."

"But soon I'll be too big."

"Draco, in our bond, shagging is a privilege, not a duty. I won't get all pouty because we don't fuck."

"If you're sure..."

Harry slipped into bed and curled up against Draco. "I'm sure. Give us a kiss and toddle off to dreamland."

"Silly, Potter." Draco gave him a kiss and turned over to spoon back against him. "I'll shag you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Harry grinned as Draco's breathing evened out quickly. Soon, they were going to have a terrible row about decreasing Draco's coaching and tutoring. He was going to have to indulge his inner Slytherin and get Pomfrey on his side first, and Snape as well, if he was to have a chance of winning. Hmm. Draco would be so proud of him when he realized what he'd done.

Just as he was proud of himself for winning the honor of being with Draco Malfoy. No matter the circumstances, it was a great achievement indeed. Wrapping his arms around his bondmate and child, he followed him into sleep.

Chapter 31: His Best Birthday Ever

Harry reached for his Magical Law text, then sighed, drew his wand and levitated the book to him. It would've been easier just to lean forward and pick it up, but Hermione's "cure" for their Muggle-influenced problem was total immersion into the wizarding world. Magic was to be done whenever and wherever possible. The purebloods were encouraged to discuss their childhoods (if it didn't upset the Slytherins too much-which it didn't because their parents' "care package" had made the bitter break with their families a definite two-way street). Everyone was to read only wizarding magazines or novels in their spare time (what little they had), and use of such Muggle items as portable electronics and grooming items was discouraged. Instead, grooming charms were patiently taught by those who had used them forever, wizarding fashion and sports were the number one topics, and if Harry had to listen to one more story about the goings on at Madame Puerilis's Academy for Well-Bred Young Wizards and Witches, he was going to Avada Kadavra himself.

"Harry," Ron said as he plopped down on the couch next to him.

"Ron," Harry replied, looking expectantly at his friend.

Ron looked at his hands. "You know I got an owl at dinner."

Harry nodded. With such a large family, Ron often got mail. Everyone had learned to duck when an owl came from the twins. And they never accepted Ron's offer of sweets. "Everything's okay, isn't it?"

"Depends on your definition of okay."

Well, that didn't sound good. "What's going on?" Harry demanded.

Ron sighed. "Your birthday is Friday."

Harry nodded impatiently. For once he wasn't stuck at the Dursleys, wondering if was going to be sprung by his friends or spending the day lonely and searching the sky for owls. No big plans were scheduled since their days were completely filled, but he expected a couple of gift exchanges after dinner.

"You're going to be eighteen," Ron continued with his useless information. "Hermione says that's a special age when you're a Muggle."

"It's like being seventeen when you're a Wizard. You're finally an adult in the eyes of the law."

"Oh."

Harry tapped his wand against his thigh. "Do you want a demonstration of what I've been learning in my Defense class?" he threatened. It had finally been decided that Harry was wasting his time in regular Defense and was now being tutored by three Aurors in a private area of the school. Rumor had it that Harry was learning not only how to kill, but how to cover up the crime. Draco had just scoffed at that, saying, "Why would he need Aurors to teach him what he could learn at home in our rooms?" Needless to say, that started other rumors.

However, the threat got absolutely no reaction from Ron. So he thought to go the sensitive friend route. "Is there some reason why you're sitting here being silent with me when you could be studying or with Hermione? Wait, that's sort of redundant, isn't it?" Harry grinned.

That at least got a reaction-and a smile. "She'd punched you if she heard that."

"Nah, it'd be a hex. Total immersion and all that," Harry teased. Maybe what Ron had to tell him wasn't so bad.

"She might make an exception."

"And you might be stalling," Harry pointed out. "Spill, Ron."

"Since we're so busy during the week, Mum and Dad are coming to visit you Sunday for your birthday."

Harry started to smile. Next he frowned. Then he paled. "Draco."

Ron nodded. "Draco," he agreed.

"Do they know-anything?"

"Ginny let slip that you were involved-with someone male."

"Oh. Any problem with that?"

"Of course not. But neither did Ginny explain the 'someone' was the son of a Death Eater and the bane of our existence for the past seven years. There may be some problems with that. Then again, Malfoy's pregnant. Mum's a sucker for babies."

"You don't they'll think badly of me for knocking him up?"

Ron grinned. "Well, you did put the cart before the horse, but who knew your stallion was a filly in disguise."

Harry looked quickly around the room. "At least we know Draco isn't within listening distance."

"What? No girly squeal?"

"No slashing hex through your neck."

Ron snorted. "He doesn't even have a wand."

"Do you honestly think he'll need one if he overhears you questioning his masculinity? Despite being knocked up, he's not a girl, you know."

Ron held up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't get bent out of shape, mate. Being a Progenitor kind of makes him legendary. But don't tell him that; his ego's big enough."

"Don't I know it," Harry sighed.

"What exactly is it you know, Harry?" Draco asked, entering the common room from their rooms.

"Um, that I couldn't have a better husband?"

"Ah, thinking clearly for once. How's the sword transfiguration coming along, Weasley?"

"I can manage the single-edge, but not the double yet."

"Blaise had the same problem. Maybe you should ask him how he managed to get over it."

"Good idea, Malfoy. Thanks. He and the others are in the library, right?"

"Last I heard."

"Okay. I'll see if I can catch up with him. See you guys later."

Harry watched Ron leave and wondered if he should warn Draco about the Weasleys' visit now or later.

"You know I didn't buy that whole 'bestest husband' thing, right?"

Harry automatically stood to help lower Draco onto the chair next to the sofa. Draco had learned the hard way that the sofa wasn't pregnant-friendly. "Ron's parents are coming to visit on Sunday." Well, guess he was going with the "now" option.

"Oh." Draco squirmed until he was comfortably situated. "I'll tell Blaise to switch some of his stuff with yours so they won't figure out you're not sleeping in the dorm. And the castle is so big that I can easily stay out of your way."

Harry stared at him. "I don't want you out of my way."

"But they don't know about us."

"I want them to. Don't-don't you want to meet them?" Harry asked worriedly. Was Draco ashamed of their binding?

"I don't mind meeting them, Harry," Draco said. "I was just trying to make it easy on you."

"You think it's easier to hide you?" Draco shrugged. "You weren't by yourself in that kiss in the Great Hall, you know. I'm not ashamed to be with you."

"But being with me and being bound to me-with a child on the way- are two different situations. I know the Weasleys know what my father is. And I'm sure they've heard my name mentioned by you and the other Weasleys in less-than-kind terms. They will be suspicious and worried."

"Ron has taken it well."

"Weasley is closer to the situation. He's seen for himself how things have changed between us."

"Then they'll just have to take his and my word for it that we're great together."

Draco's eyes widened. "You think we're great together?"

"I think that I couldn't have a better husband." This time it was a declarative sentence.

Draco grinned. "Everyone's in the library, you know."

Harry tried to act coy. "I have to study for Magical Law."

"What if I tell you I can make you come by reciting the International Apparation Codes?"

Harry aced his Magical Law exam the next day.

Harry grinned as he watched the others limp back in from the grueling cross-country course Draco had set up. Because it was his birthday, Draco had announced to the group that Harry was exempt from training. Some had started to complain, but other, saner minds, whispered that backtalk usually ended in extra laps or push-ups. Everyone had taken off without sassing Draco, and Harry had been rewarded with an extended snogging session in the equipment room.

"Your mate is a sadist," Michael Corner said, as he slipped off one of his trainers to examine a blister.

"And this is news?" Harry asked with a smirk.

Corner shook his head. "And you're supposed to be our bloody savior."

"From Voldemort," he said, chuckling at the involuntary shudder the name caused, "not Draco."

"Everyone did a good job today," Draco praised loudly, shocking all. "So no extra laps and no revision sessions. Have dinner, then leave Harry and me the hell alone."

Corner grinned. "Someone has plans."

Harry kept his blush to a minimum.

Regardless of Draco's machinations, it was much later before the two of them were alone. As expected, Ron and Hermione came by with gifts and it had been fun just to sit around with them and discuss the "old" days. Draco had been indulgent, for Draco, and hadn't shooed them out or made unsubtle hints about the time.

"Thank you," he said after Ron and Hermione left. "It was nice having a birthday where no one complained about my friends or anything."

Draco shrugged. "We're going to need babysitters."

Harry laughed. "And here I thought you were going soft."

A very dramatic eye roll. "Insults will get you nowhere."

"And where will compliments get me?" Harry whispered in his ear.

"Inside me," Draco replied quietly.

"You-I-you?"

Draco nodded hesitantly. "I think I'm ready, and it's getting cumbersome trying to figure out how to do you without this stomach of mine getting in the way. How do big-bellied men do it?"

Harry mentally pictured his uncle attempting to... He shuddered. Hard. Not an image he wanted at any time, but especially now. "Are you sure, Draco? I mean, I have no complaints and if it gets too awkward, there's other stuff we can do."

Draco just kissed him and said, "Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry stared at the bathroom door-which was currently locked and harboring Draco, who apparently hadn't been as ready as the Slytherin thought. Things had proceeded well from the sitting room to the bedroom. Worked up quite nicely, Draco had been carefully propped on his side by pillows so there would be no strain, and he'd lubricated Harry himself. It was only when Draco had tensed as Harry inserted a lube-coated finger into him that Harry became concerned. But Draco had talked him around, saying it had been a while, etc., and the tension eased enough that Harry could put in two fingers. At his first attempt at entry with his cock, however, Draco had skittered away, then apologized and eased back into position with a nervous laugh. The second time, through the hand he had on Draco's back, he'd felt Draco's heart start to race and a slight tremble snake through his body. He pulled back, but Draco insisted that he go through with it. The third time, he entered Draco maybe an inch before a kiss revealed the salty tears running down Draco's face. Harry had pulled away and put on his pajama bottoms.

"This is stupid, Draco," he'd said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I know. I'm sorry I'm so weak." Draco also sat on the edge of the bed, his head dropped so low that his hair covered his face.

"No, not that. You're-entitled to feel the way you do. I'm talking about trying to force this. There's no reason that we have to do this."

Draco had looked up then. "Maybe not for you."

Harry had suddenly been angry. "What is this about? Malfoys can't be scared? Malfoys must be fucked? What?"

Of course, he knew it'd been the wrong thing to say even as it was leaving his mouth. Draco's eyes... The hurt he'd never voice showed so clearly in his eyes. And he'd run naked to the bathroom and locked the door.

Harry knew he could open the door with a flick of his wand, but he figured he'd violated Draco enough for one night. Maybe he should just let him be, but... "I'm going to bed," he called loudly. "So come out when you're ready. You need your rest."

Silence.

"For what it's worth, there's nothing wrong with being scared. It doesn't mean you're weak or worthless or whatever it is you have running around in your head. It means you're human, Draco-just like me."

The door opened and Draco came out. He'd taken to wearing a nightshirt because of its fit, and Harry wordlessly helped him into it. Then they climbed into bed, sharing a timid kiss before rolling to their respective sides of the bed.

As Harry fell asleep, he realized that despite what had happened in the past hour-no, even with what had happened-this had been his best birthday ever.