Chapter Text
Harry watched out the bar’s front window as his date disappeared down the darkened street. He’d paid for drinks, but he hadn’t offered to walk her home. Conversation had stalled after he’d asked her if she wanted children, she’d answered with a shrug and a vague hand gesture, like even if she did, it was nothing that need be worried over for some time. Which was fine, it was a fine way to feel, but it wasn’t how Harry felt.
He imagined he probably would have gotten fewer luke work responses and sideways looks for his questions if he’d shown up to dates as himself, but he didn’t want to build a family with someone who was only there because they were star struck, or tuft-hunting. That would be shallow, fragile.
The night was cold when Harry stepped out into it, he shivered and rubbed his hands together. He thought about apparating but he liked walking home after a disappointing date, the brisk walk did him good, cleared his head, made it easier to go to sleep and try again.
“You know, Potter, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
Harry jumped and turned sharply. Malfoy was standing in the shadow of the bar’s awning, leaning back against the worn brick facade. Even in the shadows, his pale face and almost white hair caught the eye.
“How long are you going to go on these dates trying to find someone to be your heir garden?”
Harry reddened, looking around. “Are you following me?”
Malfoy pushed gracefully off the wall and ambled forward out of the shadow. He walked the way he talked, with a lazy drawl and a smirk. “I happened to be sitting nearby and overheard some bits and pieces.” He cocked his head. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll come off desperate?”
“I’m not being desperate,” Harry growled. “It’s practical. There’s no point in dating someone if we’re not on the same page.”
“Yes, of course,” Malfoy said. “I must say, I was surprised when you and Ms. Weasley didn’t try again.”
Harry felt a chill. Malfoy had been on their healer team when Ginny miscarried. They’d had him dismissed, but he had been privy to their situation nonetheless. “That’s none of your business,” Harry said, his voice cold.
“No, certainly not,” Malfoy said. “I simply wondered if there wasn’t a simpler solution you hadn’t considered.”
Harry resisted the urge to back up as Malfoy advanced into his space. “I don’t know why you’re here, Malfoy, or how you recognized me, or why you thought you could bring up privileged medical information, but–”
“Apologies,” Malfoy said quickly, bowing his head minutely. He waved his hand. “I’ve sought you out because there’s something I’ve been developing that I think might be of particular interest to you.”
“It’s not,” Harry said flatly, and he turned to walk away, thrilled to put distance between them, anything to settle his stomach and stop his skin crawling.
“It must be so hard,” Malfoy called after him. “Hoping you can find someone who wants the same things as you, on your timeline, hoping they like the man behind the scar.”
Harry shook his head but he didn’t turn around or pause.
“Everything has to fit perfectly and even then, something could go wrong… again. You know all about that I suppose,” Malfoy said, his boots clicking against the cobble stones as he caught up to Harry. “There are so many factors to take into consideration when you’re planning with another person. Not to mention, they might just… change their mind.”
Harry felt tight with anger, he stopped and turned. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“I’m a specialist,” Malfoy said, stopping in front of him, too close again.
“In what?” Harry spat.
“Fertility,” Malfoy said. “And single parent conception.”
Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably. “What does that have to do with me?”
“In male conception, specifically,” Malfoy said.
Harry stared at him, blinking, a furrow in his brow. “Sounds like horseshit.”
“Under-studied to be sure,” Malfoy said, “but completely possible.”
“I think I’d have heard of it.” Harry turned to keep walking away, only to be stopped by Malfoy’s grip on his upper arm.
“There are some historical cases, very difficult to research of course, and they’ve been largely accidental, just a great confluence of factors really, extraordinary in their own right, but random ultimately.” He licked his lips. “With modern advancements though…” He trailed off.
“Why are you talking to me?”
“I can help you,” Malfoy said. “You’d have the finest care, and total discretion of course.”
“Not. Interested,” Harry said, spitting the words out with a curl in his upper lip, then he turned again and continued walking.
Malfoy jogged up next to him once more. “You’ll want to look into my credentials yourself, I’m sure,” he said, matching Harry’s long strides with ease and holding out a bone white business card between two slender fingers.
Harry ignored the gesture, jamming his hands stubbornly into his pants pockets.
“An address where I can be easily reached,” Malfoy said, then he let the card go and it sailed into Harry’s breast pocket.
Harry rounded on him.
“Good luck,” Malfoy said with a smirk. He turned in a swirl of robes and walked off at a clip in the opposite direction.
***
“Can wizards have children of their own?”
Hermione cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“By themselves I mean. I mean, can wizards get pregnant, has that… happened?”
“Oh,” Hermione said, and she looked at him, large eyed and furrowed her brow.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Merlin, Hermione, I’m just asking, Not everything about me is a tragedy.”
She raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat. “Well,” she said carefully, “it has happened, or it seems to have at least.”
Harry leaned in a little before he could stop himself.
She gave him a wary look. “But it’s extremely rare and it’s not… replicable as far as anyone knows. They seem to be mostly random, unrelated incidents.”
“Mostly random?”
“There really isn’t much information, and it’s difficult to be sure which accounts are true, some are almost certainly falsified so drawing similarities between the cases… Well, it’s tricky. There seems to be some tendency for them to occur along certain latitudinal bands, in a particular age range, there are a few other hypothesized factors, but really, Harry, there’s not much there.”
Harry leaned back, chewing his lip.
Hermione reached across the table and took his hand between hers. “Everything is going to be fine,” she said gently. “You have plenty of time, you know?”
Harry swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
“Lots of women want kids.” She smiled unconvincingly. “Most of them, I think.”
Harry nodded again, it was hard to meet her eyes.
She squeezed his hand. “You’re going to find someone, Harry, someone perfect, who wants all the same things you do.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course, I know.” He tried to smile back at her.
***
Harry almost wished he had asked a different healer about Malfoy or just tried looking him up in ministry records on his own or something like that. Anything had to be better than listening to this overly enthusiastic wizard, who was apparently the president of the Draco Malfoy fan club, talk in excruciating detail about the many impressive and ground breaking papers he’d written in the last five years, about the potions advancements he’d made, about how quickly he’d completed his dual specialization trainings, about his unprecedented grades and fascinating internships. Even his philanthropic endeavors were noteworthy apparently. “I never got to work with him,” the man said, sounding a little out of breath. “He left for Scandinavia right before I started.”
“Scandinavia?” Harry said, afraid of how long the answer was going to be.
The wizard nodded excitedly. “They are doing really revolutionary things with fertility in the Northern circle, and they don’t even take people to train normally, but of course they wanted him.” He smiled. “I wasn’t even really interested in the field, but I ended up reading loads about it just to keep up with what he was publishing.”
“I see,” Harry said.
“He does independent research now, but I’m sure he’s working on something. Everyone assumes he’s going to put a book out, but I think he might be working on something new.”
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Everyone sounded like it had to be a bit of a stretch. “Something new? Like what?”
“Who knows.” The wizard’s cheeks flushed a little. “I can’t wait to read about it, it’s been so long since he published. It must be something big.”
Harry forced out a smile. “Well, thanks,” he said, unsure how to end the tedious conversation.
“You went to school with him, didn’t you?” There was a hopeful look in his eyes.
“Um, yeah, kind of,” Harry said, taking a step back, glancing at his wrist as if noticing the time. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” Then he turned and hurried off.
***
Harry waited three more weeks before he wrote to the address on Malfoy’s card, and it felt like an eternity. He went on four dates over the time, all of them hollow, all of them dead ends, distracted the whole time. He struggled for hours with what to write. Eventually, I want to talk - HP, got scrawled on a scrap of parchment and sent off before it could be agonized over it any longer.
The response was swift, and arrangements were made to meet at Malfoy’s office, located on a magical floor tucked away in an unassuming office building in muggle London.
The space was clean and sparse, but not altogether unwelcoming once Harry entered it. Malfoy offered him tea (he turned it down) before ushering him to sit opposite him at the walnut desk in the center of the room.
“Because of the nature of this work and the laws that restrict many of the things that it will be necessary to do over the course of the next year, your discretion will be just as important to me as mine is to you. There will be a magically binding contract that must be signed before we can proceed much further.”
Harry read it in a fleeting way, as a formality, it made little sense to him. He wouldn’t be able to speak about the details of their work with anyone, he wouldn’t be able to disclose the true reason for his absence from society. He would have to commit to being away from his life and closely monitored for the duration of the pregnancy and possibly for a short period before and after as well. He would have to take a lot of potions. There were no guarantees.
Those were the things Malfoy had explained to him, and that seemed to the gist of the contract as well, written in the most convoluted terms possible, but the general gist nonetheless. So Harry skimmed and tried to furrow his brow contemplatively from time to time as if processing the words in earnest. Malfoy waited patiently, his hands folded in his lap, his eyes averted. Harry signed. Then shivered at the hum of magic that whispered over his skin when his quill left the parchment. He looked up a little nervously.
Malfoy smiled reassuringly. “Just a formality,” he said. “For both our protections.” He pulled the parchment back towards himself, then rolled it up, murmured and flicked his wand at it till a seal dripped and hardened over the edge, he smiled again at Harry and slipped the sealed contract into a drawer in his desk.
“What now?” Harry said, swallowing thickly. His throat felt tight.
“I’ll take some diagnostics,” Malfoy said, rising from his seat and moving fluidly around the desk. “To tailor the treatment more effectively, it’s a delicate balance.”
Harry stood up as well, feeling shaky. “Just stand?”
“That’s fine,” Draco said, his voice was gentle. He set a small black orb on the desk and stepped in front of Harry.
“What’s that?” Harry nodded at the orb.
“It will record my findings, so nothing is lost, or missed.” He moved his wand slowly and spoke softly, starting at the crown of Harry’s head and working his way down slowly.
Harry stifled a gasp at the sensation of Malfoy’s magic moving over his scalp then down the back of his neck and ghosting over his cheeks and lips, then his throat.
Malfoy glanced at his face. “It won’t take long,” he said. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s fine,” Harry said, gritting his teeth and looking away, trying to think about quidditch as Malfoy’s magic slid down his body all the way to his toes, raising gooseflesh over the entirety of him and leaving him feeling like his skin didn’t fit properly.
“Alright,” Malfoy said. “That’s it.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?”
“For today,” Malfoy said. “I’ll write when I have something for you.”
“Have something for me?”
“A course of potions, tailored to you, as I said. A preparatory step, for about two weeks.”
“Then what?”
“Then, you’ll move to a private location for the final preparation before implantation.”
“Where will that be?”
“I will arrange for a place that you will be comfortable but safely hidden so as not to arouse suspicion. You needn’t worry about that.”
Harry bit his lip. “You have my… side of it, but what do you use for the, um, other half? Do I need to find… a donor or something like that?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Malfoy said. “I have your genetic material as you said, and I will synthesize an optimized match for it based on health and viability. I will use the diagnostic research and genetic profiles that I have amassed over my career as a blueprint that can then be filled in with, as I said, optimal structures to compliment yours.”
“That–” Harry shook his head. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“Unfortunately, it is the safest option,” Malfoy said. “The majority of pregnancy losses are due to minute incompatibilities in the genetic coupling. So to ensure the highest probability of success and to… stay within the one year timeline we discussed, as well as, of course, to give you the highest likelihood of having a healthy child, a donor is not advisable.”
It seemed off to Harry.
“And… of course to obtain a genetic sample you would, ethically speaking, need the consent of the donor, which I’m afraid might put you in much the same predicament you’ve been in, of waiting and hoping to find someone on the same page as you, as you put it.”
“There are,” Harry swallowed, “banks and things like that.”
Malfoy nodded calmly. “Highly regulated, and magically induced male pregnancy isn’t on their list of sanctioned practices, unfortunately. If it were ever to come out…” He grimaced. “It would be an unambiguous case of fraud, you and your child would not be the only ones at risk, I would almost certainly lose my licenses and be unable to continue my work. This” –he gestured between them– “what we’re talking about, is an unregulated grey area, there is no governing body which mandates practices for male pregnancies because the assumption is that there is nothing to mandate.” He rearranged his hands on the desk. “And, I realize that my ability to continue my work is likely of little consequence to you, but I would ask you to consider, you are not the only wizard with the desire to conceive, there are others like you, and of course, adoption has never been as easy for wizards, even if they are married, as it has been for, um, more traditionally married couples.”
Harry was quiet for a time. “Do I pick the gender?” he said eventually.
Malfoy looked at him for a moment before speaking. “I assumed you would want it to be left to chance. But yes, of course, if you have a preference…”
“No, I–” Harry bit his lip. “That would be better. You can do that?”
Malfoy nodded. “Yes.”
Harry blinked at him, then broke eye contact and nodded. “How long till you… write?”
“A couple of days,” Malfoy said. “Not more than a week. You can relax for a bit, I’ll tell you when you need to do anything, alright?”
Malfoy walked him to the door.
“So, I’ll just wait to hear from you?” Harry said, still feeling unsettled.
“Yes,” Malfoy said. “It won’t be long. Get some rest, make your arrangements, you’ll hear from me soon.”
“And then I’ll come back here?”
“Or I can come to your home, whichever is more comfortable for you,” Draco said. “You don’t have to decide now. I’ll owl you when everything’s ready, and you can tell me then.”
***
Harry quickly found that the most onerous feature of the contract he had signed was a complete inability to discuss it or Malfoy, or anything related to pregnancy at all with anyone. He couldn’t make his hand write anything on those topics either. Not that he was eager to tell Hermione or Ron what he had done, he knew well enough that it sounded insane, but when Hermione asked him where he had heard about male pregnancies Harry tried many times to say something vague and eventually just shrugged his shoulders and let his mouth open then close again in defeat. When she kept prying and he found he couldn’t even make up a lie about it he just started talking about something else and Hermione eventually dropped it.
It seemed unreasonable, Harry thought, not being able to talk about any pregnancy at all, overly cautious in a self-defeating sort of way that was just as likely to draw attention as deter it. But there was nothing to be done, the contract was already signed and sealed.
When Mafloy reached out Harry told him to come to Grimmauld Place instead of meeting him at his office again.
“Take them in order, just follow the number written on the label, start with one and drink them daily, everyday till you’ve had all twelve. Take them at the same time each morning, it doesn’t have to be precise, but it should be within five minutes of the same time every day so make sure it’s a time you can remember and take them reliably. The phials will vanish themselves at noon each day so take your dose before that.”
“So I just take the first now?”
Malfoy glanced at the wall clock. “I would wait to do it on the hour,” he said, “that’s usually easier to remember and be consistent with. As I said, the timing is important.”
“What happens in twelve days?”
“I’ll come back in ten and we will discuss the next steps,” Malfoy said smoothly. “Will six p.m. be alright?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Sure.”
The potions all looked the same to Harry, but Malfoy had told him to take them in order, so he did. Carefully setting his alarm each day and standing before his dresser to wait for the clock to strike nine each morning. They tasted terrible.
Malfoy arrived promptly at six on the tenth night. “I know you have a house elf, in case it’s not convenient for you to return in the near future, are there any special instructions you need to give him prior to your absence?”
Harry shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
A parchment list was produced from Malfoy’s robes. “Would you like to go over the list? Things to pack. Much of it is obvious, of course, common sense. Bring your wand, your home stationary, any books you wouldn’t want to be without, and the like.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “No, that’s alright,” he said, putting his hand out for the list.
Malfoy gave it to him. “You’ll be ready by noon the day after tomorrow then?”
The hair on the back of Harry’s neck tingled uneasily. “Sure,” he said.
“Nothing you need to put in order with work?”
“I quit,” Harry said.
Malfoy’s eyebrow quirked up. “Really?”
Harry shrugged. “I’d been thinking about it for a while.”
Malfoy nodded slowly. “Well that simplifies things I suppose.” He smiled pleasantly. “What about your friends? They know you’ll be out of town for a bit?”
Harry swallowed. “Yeah, but I can still talk to them, right?”
“Of course, of course,” Draco said, waving his hand and nodding.
Harry shifted his weight.
“Are you having any issues with the potions?” Draco said.
“No,” Harry said. “Like what?”
Draco frowned and shrugged one shoulder. “You’ve been taking them as prescribed?” he said. “No late doses, side effects, anything like that.”
“Side effects?” Harry frowned.
“I wouldn’t expect there to be anything,” Malfoy said, waving his hand again, dismissively.
“No, I don’t think so,” Harry said, uneasy.
“Good, good,” Malfoy said. “Just keep your usual routine for the next two mornings and I’ll be by to collect you at noon on Friday, how is that?”
“Fine, I guess,” Harry said. The whole situation made him nervous and he had to keep reminding himself that Malfoy was the top healer in his field, that he was reputable, that all their bad blood had been a long time ago.
Malfoy nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you then,” he said. “Owl, of course, if you have any questions in the meantime. Have a good night.” And he inclined his head at Harry before seeing himself out.
***
A much needed vacation, he wasn’t sure for how long. That’s what he had told Hermione and then the Weasley’s and trusted them to disseminate it as needed. There was some concern from Hermione over the lack of a concrete plan, but mostly there seemed to be relief. They thought he was pushing himself too hard, that he didn’t know how to relax, that he was rushing through the steps of his life unnecessarily. Hermione wanted to know more specifics of course, where he would be going, how he could be contacted. He had assured her that he would write frequently, because what else was he going to do? But that he didn’t want a plan, and he didn’t want a return date, he had some things to figure out, and he expected it to be a while.
***
Harry packed his trunk on the eleventh day. He placed in it nearly his entire wardrobe (he didn’t have that much), his parchments and quills, and the journal Hermione had given him that he never used. He packed his photo album and a deck of cards. He struggled to think of books he wouldn’t want to be without and ended up just grabbing some Hermione had given him that he felt guilty for never opening. And he packed his favorite pillow because he felt like he should have more to take.
On the morning of the twelfth day Harry was queasy with nerves. He was second guessing wildly his decision to relinquish so much control to Malfoy, to leave with him to an unknown location, for such an extended period of time. His flight response felt like it was in overdrive, it had him itching all over and thinking about calling everything off and just going on a long vacation to find himself instead, that would be the sane thing to do, wouldn’t it? But he thought about if he would rather find himself (whatever that meant) this year or have a child at the end of it? It wasn’t a question really. Not one he had to give serious thought anyway.
Grimmauld Place felt big and empty as Harry sat on his chest in the entry way. It didn’t feel like home any more now than it had six years ago when he had moved into it. His fists were clenched and white, pressing into the wood on either side of where he sat. And he sat like that for over an hour, afraid to move, unsure what he would do if he got up and thought too hard, just waiting and trying to breath through his anxiety, through his heart pounding in his chest and his ears humming with blood and his breath coming a little short.
Malfoy was right on time as Harry expected he would be and he looked surprised to see Harry ready and waiting when he arrived.
Harry stood stiffly and waited, against all his better judgement and instincts, to be told what to do next.
Malfoy smiled. “You’re ready to go then?”
Harry gave a curt nod, clenching his jaw.
“Very well,” Malfoy said. “Let’s step outside the wards, I’ll side along you, if that’s alright.”
Harry forced one foot in front of the other, everything in him screaming to not leave the safety and protection of his home and its wards.
“This should do,” Malfoy said after they stepped over Harry’s property line. He either hadn’t noticed or chose to ignore Harry’s tense stature. He extended his forearm toward Harry and waited patiently.
Harry swallowed dryly and laid his hand on Malfoy’s forearm, gripping the handle of his trunk.
“Ready?” Malfoy said pleasantly.
Choosing to ignore, Harry decided, unsettled. “Yeah.” He stared into the street, waiting.
“Hold on then,” Malfoy said. “I’m going to move us two jumps, just in case.”
Harry’s hand tightened a little and he’d opened his mouth to ask what the fuck that meant, In case of what?, when the first dizzying snap of apparition knocked the wind from him and left him off balance. It was dark, like they were underground, and before Harry’s eyes had adjusted enough to take in his surroundings they dissolved again and Harry blinked in the bright light of the unclouded sun. He was panting and clung on to Malfoy’s arm for an extra second to keep from stumbling back. Harry knew from his time as an auror that two jumps would also make them more difficult to track. He glanced around them.
They weren’t in the city any more, they were on a driveway of sorts, behind a massive set of wrought iron gates, with towering neatly trimmed yew hedges on either side of them.
“Where are we?” Harry asked unsteadily, feeling a bone deep sense of foreboding as he slowly turned in place and looked up the drive. There was a building in the distance, he squinted to make it out, familiar and ominous.
“The safest possible place,” Malfoy said. “You’ve been before, I’m afraid, under much more dire circumstances."
Harry felt cold. Malfoy Manor.
“I hope you’ll find it to be as changed as I do, I assure you it is nearly unrecognizable from when you were last here.”
“I’m not going in there,” Harry said.
Malfoy knitted his eyebrows. “I understand,” he said. “I wish there was somewhere more… appropriate to take you.”
“Anywhere else,” Harry snapped, narrowing his eyes.
“Unfortunately,” Malfoy said, “there isn’t anywhere else where your privacy and safety can be so fully ensured. The ancient protections and...”
Harry stared at him, incredulous. “I’m not fucking going in there,” he said, leaning his weight back.
“Harry…” Malfoy’s eyes brows knitted together, his mouth thin. “I can see why…” He trailed off, pursing his lips and frowning at the far off manor. He shook his head and took a breath. “Look, as I’ve said, this whole process is delicate, and very time sensitive. Come in for today, and I promise if you hate it, tomorrow... But there’s no way to make alternate arrangements for today. I don’t think it will be as bad as you are imagining, but if you hate it, as I said, I will arrange for something else.”
Harry stared at him. He shook his head disbelievingly, blinking angrily. “Nothing is going to change after I go in there,” Harry said. “Start figuring out that ‘something else’ out now.”
“Of course,” Malfoy said, inclining his head. “I’m sorry.”
Harry narrowed his eyes and shook his head again. “Alright,” he said finally.
***
The Manor was indeed quite changed, but that didn’t make Harry despise it any less. It still made his skin crawl, he still felt like he could smell the death and misery and despair and cruelty that had seeped into its bones. It was still Malfoy Manor.
Malfoy showed Harry to a spacious bedroom with an en suite at one end and a walk-in closet at the other. Dark, rich, textiles adorned the walls, there was no overhead lighting but several lamps cast soft light and there were unlit sconces every few yards around the perimeter. The bed had the same luxurious look as the rest of the room. The bedframe, the end tables, the desk, the chair, and the armoire were all matching dark hardwood. Harry was unimpressed. He dropped the handle of his trunk and fixed Malfoy with an irritable stare.
“Make yourself at home,” Malfoy said, gesturing to the room at large. “I have some things to attend to. But I will be back before too long and we can speak about the next steps.”
Harry rolled his eyes and marched to the en suite without another word, slamming the door when he got there.
Malfoy returned hours later with a meal on a tray and another potion, this one an electric pink.
Harry watched as Malfoy set the tray carefully on the bedside table. “What now?” Harry said.
“Take this potion in the next hour,” Malfoy said.
Harry crossed his arms. “And then what? You said we would discuss the next steps.”
“This will prepare your body for implantation, make it less likely that you’ll reject the foreign matter.”
Harry stared at him.
“In natural pregnancies the body lowers its immune defense responses following implantation. Your body will want to attack and expel anything it sees as alien, for a male pregnancy all of the normal hormonal changes associated with pregnancy will have to be simulated and closely monitored. We will have to make real time adjustments based on how your body responds to some of the treatments. The first twelve day course, the one you just finished, has adjusted your hormone levels and grown the necessary internal anatomy.”
“You said it happened sometimes by accident,” Harry said, shifting his weight.
“The cases are exceedingly rare. And the majority of them self-terminate prenatally. In some ways the initial implantation will be the easy part, the treatments that keep you and the fetus stable throughout the pregnancy, that will be where all the most delicate care comes into play.”
“Okay,” Harry said. “What’s that for?” He nodded at the pink potion.
“It will lower your body’s natural defenses, and give the greatest possible chance of avoiding an initial rejection. You’ll take that and I’ll monitor you to determine the most opportune time to perform the implantation. It could be up to two days, but probably sooner.”
Harry eyed Malfoy suspiciously. “But we’re not staying here.”
Malfoy shifted his weight. “Most probably you will hit all the levels I’m looking for in the next twelve to eighteen hours. As soon as the implantation is complete and I can confirm your stability we can move to a more… desirable location, but there is an outside chance that your body will react to the potion more slowly and moving before that would be… unwise.”
“Two days?” Harry said.
“It’s very unlikely,” Malfoy responded, apologetically. “I just want to be honest with you, and manage your expectations. I’ll have an alternate location prepared, and as soon as you’re stable we can move.”
Harry rubbed his forehead.
Malfoy glanced at his wrist watch. “I should go, I have a lot to do. Take that before you eat.” He nodded at the swirling pink potion. Before leaving he removed the obsidian orb from his robe pocket and set it carefully on the end table next to the tray.
Malfoy turned back before he left. “I’ll monitor your progress remotely, as I said, I expect you to reach ideal levels tonight, and if that’s the case you’ll likely be quite sore in the morning, it’s a lot of work your body is doing. So don’t be surprised if you’re a bit achy and also quite tired or groggy.”
Harry felt light headed as soon as the potion was down. It wasn’t awful tasting this time at least. He began to eat the food on his tray and was just a few bites in when his eyelids started to droop. The drowsiness came on so suddenly and acutely that Harry felt his head lolling to the side while he was still in the middle of chewing. He meant to take off his shoes and lay down but all he managed in the end was to squirm back a few inches on the bed, his calves still dangling over the edge, and slump back, boneless, against the duvet. His eyes were closed and everything was black as soon as his head sank into the soft covering.
And he dreamed, strange, unsettling, vivid, dreams for most of the night.
Back at his first real meeting with Malfoy, in the office, with the obsidian orb sitting on the desk, a wand trailing magic down his body, the sensation of the magic no longer so unpleasant. The seeping tingle of it lingered over his throat and he rolled his head back, inhaling deeply. And then fingers brushed over his skin and thew, just lightly, then down his bare chest, a little ahead of the crawl of magic. A palm pressed against the hollow of his hip angled him just a little. Harry groaned. The dream seemed to halt then, the hand gone, and Harry tried to roll his hip up in search of the lost pressure. The magic resumed its slow crawl down his body, blooming and spreading over his chest. Harry arched his back up as the cool prickle of the magic flowed, like honey, down over his nipples.
Harry could sense more than feel the presence of another body. Their surroundings drifted dreamily from Draco’s office, to the Manor’s luxurious bedroom, to a nebulous floating kind of ether. A hand trailed down Harry’s chest, over the plane of his bare stomach and he realized he was no longer wearing any clothes.
The crawl of tingling magic got to his navel and a strange jolt of sensation rippled through him and up his spine, then it slipped lower still, and it built with his anticipation as it slipped lower over his hips and down, down. It got to the base of his cock and he twitched as it inched along.
Long strong fingers ghosted over his cock and he whimpered desperately. Harry was hit with a wave of dizziness and a heady darkness engulfed him. When his mind drifted back and gave shape to the world again he laying face down on a soft surface, and there was pressure against his back, hands holding him in place, maneuvering his limbs. One leg was being folded at the knee and pressed up beside him. Then fingers were pressing into the cleft of his arse, massaging the tight ring of muscle around his hole. Harry’s heart pounded and he rolled his hips down into whatever he was lain upon and moaned at the unholy friction. Fingers gripped the meat of his arse then dug into the dip of his hip as they wrapped around there.
Harry wanted those fingers inside him, even if it was just a delirious dream, likely to evaporate to hazy mist at any moment. It had been so long, far too long, and even his dreams had given him no relief in recent months. His mind was muzzy and he wasn’t quite paralyzed but his movements were weak, small. There was a coldness on his backside, wet and slick, getting rubbed around by those confident fingers and Harry shivered. Then a hand slid up the back of his neck and cool fingers splayed against his scalp, threaded into this hair. And the spongy head of a cock rested against his entrance. “Draco,” Harry heard himself say, muffled into the soft surface below him.
The fingers in his hair went suddenly tight and his scalp stung. Harry groaned and squirmed weakly, and then that cock was pressing against him again, and he was panting desperately and praying for it to fill him up before he awoke or his mind took him meandering down some other avenue, away from the pressure and heat and touch of another man. And it did. There was a renewed pressure and then a throaty groan as it slipped inside him.
Harry whimpered, the pain overwhelming his senses at first, the stretch so much more than he was accustomed to, too much. He shuddered forward, hardly able to move. He groaned and felt his eyes wet with tears. And then the movement halted and he panted against the pain. A hand soothed down his back, firm fingers bracketing his spine, massaging into the tissue. Harry murmured softly at the caress, feeling himself begin to relax, the fingers traveling all the way to his tail bone and lower. Hands kneaded into the lobes of his arse and he could feel more than hear the rumble of a growl through his bones, and he rolled his hips down, infected by it.
The cock in his arse pulled out a fraction of an inch then plunged back in and Harry lived for it, the heat, the stretch, the relentless pressure, driving into him, threatening to split him apart. He groaned, his mouth hanging out open, saliva seeping between his lips, soaking the fabric that pressed against his cheek. Strong hands wrapped around his wrists and dragged them down, pulling his arms back against his sides, using them as leverage to thrust into him harder, more deeply.
Harry’s release gathered in him, at his core, till the intensity was blinding, unbearable. He cried and tried to grind down for relief but he couldn’t move and the only friction he got was from his body being pressed down into the soft surface under him from the force of being fucked against it. His body felt tight and hot and everything blurred together as the pleasure crested and crashed over him. His body twitching, and he moaned through it, each thrust sending him a little deeper, he could hear groaning from behind him and there was a growing irregularity to the shuddering thrusts. And then his back was covered with the warm press of flesh, and his wrists were brought back up by his face, and warm breath huffed out against his neck.
He was still sore, still stretched, but it was a pleasing fullness, softening as he drifted further away in his mind. Teeth dragged lightly over the skin just under his jaw and Harry wanted to stay right there in that moment. Sore and sated with damp lips pressed along his neck.
Gradually, one piece at a time the fantasy dissolved away from him. First the press of warmth on his back disappeared, leaving him chill, then the firm grip around his wrists was gone, then his arse was left empty and wanting. Quiet darkness reclaimed him then and the rest of his dreams were disjointed and hazy recollections of the past. Showering after quidditch practice, boarding the Hogwarts Express, kissing Ginny for the first time, the watery weight of his invisibility cloak slipping through his fingers.