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If at First you Don't Succeed...

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Harry brushed his sweaty hair off his forehead and flopped onto the grass in a boneless heap. “God I’m knackered,” he said, leaning over Draco to steal a sip of his pumpkin juice. “Auror training was nothing compared to all these brats.”

“Hmm,” was all that Draco said in response.

Harry looked up at him. He was gorgeous, sitting there in the shade of the cherry blossom tree, elbow hooked over his knee as he gazed over at the crowd amassing on Molly’s back doorstep. His face held a slightly wistful expression as he watched the kids shoving each other and doing their best to get the first helping of Molly’s homemade strawberry ice cream.

Harry grinned, amused. “Want me to infiltrate the mob and grab the first bowl for you?”

Draco blinked and shook his head, the look of longing fading from his grey eyes. “What? Oh, no, it’s alright. I’m not in the mood for ice cream right now.”

Harry’s heart stuttered, because if it wasn’t the dessert he’d been eyeing up…

He swallowed, silently admonishing himself to keep calm. It had been a point of contention between them, one that had almost broken them up back when they’d first begun seeing each other. Harry wanted a family, kids and pets and a messy house, and Draco… hadn’t. He’d been adamant about it, regretful and sad but also defiant as he’d explained his position, as though he realised this would be a deal breaker but unwilling to compromise. It had left the ball very much in Harry’s court: he could have a life with Draco, or he could see if he could find someone else to have a family with.

It hadn’t been much of a choice - Harry had been head over heels for Draco from their very first kiss.

And it had been great, fantastic even. This year they would be celebrating their 5th wedding anniversary, and they were as happy now as they had been on that blustery October day when they’d exchanged vows. They had a beautiful house. Harry was working up the Auror chain, and Draco had recently gained a place on the Wizengamot on top of his duties in the legal department. They had friends. They visited Molly and Arthur once a month, and stopped off in France during their yearly holidays to stay with Lucius and Narcissa for a few days. And if Harry sometimes felt the desire to be surrounded by cute, giggling tiny humans? Well, the Weasleys and their extended family and friends had a whole passel between them, and Harry could take his pick. It was perfect, and Harry had never regretted his decision.

But recently, he’d started wondering if Draco had. He’d noticed that Draco was suddenly paying more attention to the kids surrounding them whenever they came to visit the Weasley family home. Not that he’d ignored them before - for some reason, children seemed to swarm all over Draco, as though they sensed his discomfort and took perverse pleasure in forcing him to interact with them anyway. It wasn’t unusual to walk into the living room at the Burrow and find Draco with at least two children on his lap demanding that he read them another story before bedtime. But what was unusual was to see Draco reaching out to them first.

Which was exactly what had happened a few weeks before, when Luna had turned up with her twin boys, each one tucked under an arm, facing backwards. Draco had put his mug of tea down on the kitchen table and grabbed Lorcan and Lysander and disappeared out into the garden with them. Harry had gaped out of the kitchen window, watching as Draco and the twins began a crawling race. A crawling race! On his hands and knees and everything! And he’d let the boys win, which…

“What the hell is wrong with your husband?” Ron asked, and Harry had turned to find his friend also gawking out at the spectacle on the lawn.

“What do you mean?” Luna asked, sipping out of Draco’s abandoned tea and pulling a face over the amount of sugar. “Draco loves playing with all the kids.”

Ron had let out a disbelieving snort. “Oh, yeah, like when he held Hugo out to me like a quaffle and told me to ‘take this pet of yours back, it’s making a weird noise’, that was playing, was it?”

“That was a couple of years ago,” Luna said, shrugging, and helped herself to Harry’s tea instead. She smiled and drank another large gulp. “He wasn’t ready then.”

“Wasn’t…” Harry turned back to look out of the window again, watching as Draco showed the toddlers how to do a forward roll. Did that mean he was ready now?

Harry hadn’t said anything, and Draco hadn’t brought the subject up either, leaving Harry wondering if maybe it was too much to hope for. But still, little things had happened that had kept the thought in Harry’s mind. Like finding out Draco had offered to babysit Rose and Hugo for the night the weekend before last. Or that Draco had taken the afternoon off work in order to take Teddy shopping for his first term at Hogwarts. Or being woken up at an ungodly time last Saturday with a pillow to the face, because Draco had promised a trip to the zoo with Victoire and Dominique, so that Bill and Fleur could have a day at home with baby Louis. Or watching Draco stare with longing at all the kids trying to climb Molly’s leg in order to get to the ice cream…

Harry said nothing then either, just sat in the shade and watched Draco watch the kids as they smeared themselves with the cold pink dessert and ran and crawled around in the late afternoon sun. He said nothing when it came time to say goodbye, and Draco kissed all of the children as they left, regardless of how much they were covered in sticky ice cream, even leaning into Louis’s pram to give his newborn head a discreet sniff.

Harry kept quiet once they got home too, as Draco hopped in the shower and pulled Harry in with him. They kissed under the spray until the water ran cold, and then they stumbled together onto the bed, their damp skin drying in the cool breeze wafting in through the window. He kept quiet as their hands roamed over each other, his mouth clamped firmly shut as he straddled Draco’s waist and sank down onto him with a fulfilled groan. Draco lay beneath him, the grey of his eyes almost swallowed by black heat, his hands smoothing over Harry’s chest. His thumb flicked Harry’s left nipple and Harry gasped and stilled the subtle rocking of his hips.

“You know you can ask me anything, right?”

Draco frowned up at him. “What?” He tapped at Harry’s hip, trying to make him resume his movements, but Harry held himself still.

“Anything you want, you can ask me for.” Harry leaned over, palming Draco’s jaw. “You know that, right? That I’ll give you whatever you want? You just have to ask me.”

“You mean like, kinks? Fantasies?” Draco looked up at him in confusion and shifted his hips, still trying to get Harry to move.

Harry shrugged. “If you like. Or if there’s anything else you want?”

Draco looked down and away suddenly, a blush forming on his cheeks. It was the tell he had that told Harry Draco knew he’d been caught out. He held his breath and kept still, waiting, trying not to hope too much.

Eventually Draco huffed out a breath. “Fine. If I promise to talk afterwards, will you move?”

Harry grinned and lifted himself up, slamming back down at just the right angle to make them both swear loudly. He braced himself on Draco’s chest and repeated the action over and over, Draco’s hands on his hips taking some of the effort from his burning thighs. It was always so good like this, as though Draco’s cock was the exact thing that Harry needed to make him feel filled, complete. Like two jigsaw pieces that on the surface looked like they wanted nothing to do with each other, until the moment they clicked in place and the picture suddenly came into focus.

Harry came untouched, Draco crying out moments later. They held together, fighting for breath as the breeze cooled the sweat on their skin, until Draco slipped out and Harry rolled to the side, sated and happy.

“So,” Harry said, after they’d cleaned up and slipped beneath the cool sheets. “Talk.”

Draco lay on his back, one arm tucked beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling. Harry rolled towards him and watched the line of his jaw move, words bubbling up and being discarded before they reached his lips. Eventually, Draco sighed.

“I may have been a little… hasty.”

“About what?” Harry asked.

“As to what I wanted my life to be like.” Draco sighed again and pulled a face when Harry didn’t reply, as though annoyed that Harry wasn’t making this easier for him. “I thought it would be too much responsibility.”

“You thought what would be too much responsibility?” Harry asked carefully.

Draco sneered at him. “Don’t play dumb, Harry, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I do. I guess I just need you to say it,” Harry said quietly.

Draco turned abruptly, leaning on his elbow to glare down at Harry. “I want a baby, Harry. Are you happy now?”

“I was happy before,” Harry said, but he couldn’t stop the grin from breaking out on his face. He leaned up and kissed Draco. “But yes,” he whispered against his lips, “I’m happy now too.”

“Just one,” Draco warned, before deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue deep into Harry’s mouth.

“Absolutely,” Harry mumbled, surging up against him.

“Maybe two,” Draco said, and then proceeded to kiss his way down Harry’s chest.

Harry lay back against the pillows, spreading his legs for Draco again with a happy sigh. They’d need to get as much sex in before a baby came along and robbed them of all their time and energy, after all.

 


 

 

Dr Figwalt was a tiny, wizened old wizard, with more hair coming out of his nose than he had on his head. But he smiled kindly at Harry and Draco as he ushered them into his office and produced a tea tray with a flick of his wand.

“So, we’re wanting to start a family, yes?” He asked, pouring tea and handing Draco the entire pot of sugar cubes, his eyes dancing as Draco plopped four of them into his cup. “Well, male pregnancy isn’t rare, but it is a bit of an occasion. My partners and myself tend to fight over who gets these cases, and I won this time.” He grinned, and the effect knocked at least two decades from his face. “You should be glad about that - Dr Mercap would probably insist on moving in with you throughout the whole process. Just between you and me.” He winked.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “And what is the, er, whole process?” He vaguely remembered Liam, Charlie Weasley’s husband, talking about how he’d got pregnant, but all he could remember was staring wistfully at the man’s gently rounded stomach.

“Well, there are some potions to be taken, of course, to help the body become receptive to conception. I’ll give you a prescription for those before you leave. But I will warn you both, it can be quite difficult.” He smiled a little sadly. “The male body doesn’t have eggs, the way a female does, and so the potions create them from the receiver’s DNA, and it doesn’t always work, I’m afraid.”

Harry looked at Draco, who was busy staring into his tea as though bored with the entire conversation. Harry could see the tense line of his jaw though, and knew that he was feeling the same apprehension as Harry was. “Is there anything we can do to increase our chances?” He asked.

“Oh yes!” Figwalt beamed and swung around in his chair, grabbing a handful of leaflets from his desk. “There are certain rituals that can be performed at certain times in the lunar cycle, and specific dates that can up the chances of conception - did either of you know much about Astronomy?”

Harry shook his head, but Draco spoke up. “I did an Astronomy NEWT.”

“Oh! Well then, I’m sure you’ll be able to plot out your own specific dates with no trouble at all,” Figwalt said, handing the leaflet emblazoned with a map of the stars over to Draco. Then he continued, “And then there are some positions that will help, and…” He hesitated, then said tentatively, “Have you given any thought as to which of you would like to carry the child?”

Harry had kind of assumed that it would be himself, but he realised they hadn’t actually talked about it. “Would that make any difference?”

Figwalt gave him a rather apologetic smile and said, “Well, we have had greater successes with conception when the carrier has been a pureblood.”

Harry turned to Draco, suddenly afraid that this will be another deal-breaker. “Would that… be okay with you?” He asked quietly, terribly scared that the answer would be no.

To his relief, however, Draco shrugged and nodded. “I think so. In fact, I rather like the idea.” He raised an eyebrow at Harry. “I can barely expect you to look after yourself, I’m not sure I could trust you not to go leaping into danger while carrying our child.”

Harry wanted to protest that, but he was too giddy with the knowledge that Draco seemed so fully committed to starting a family that he’d actually thought about who should carry the baby.

“Well, that’s settled then!” Figwalt flicked his wand again and a piece of parchment blinked into existence between them. “Here’s your prescription. Make sure to do your star chart first, Mr Potter-Malfoy, before you fill it and take the potion, to give yourself the best chance, okay?” Then he dumped the rest of the leaflets in Harry’s unsuspecting hands. “Make sure you go through those and see which ones you think you would be interesting in trying, yes?”

Harry and Draco both nodded at him, and stood up. The diminutive little wizard stood up with them and ushered them to the door.

“Off you go then, young gentlemen, go forth and propagate! And remember the most important thing!”

Harry and Draco turned to look at him expectantly, and he winked.

“Have fun!”

 


 

 

Saturday morning dawned bright and early for Harry. He yawned and grinned up as Draco walked into the bedroom, already dressed. His hands were covered in dirt. “What have you been up to?”

“Planting a rosemary bush, obviously,” Draco said, nodding to the pile of leaflets on their bedside table. He went into the bathroom to wash his hands. “Hurry up and shower, we’ve run out of grapefruit juice.”

“Probably because you keep drinking it all,” Harry muttered, but he swung his legs out of the bed and stood up.

“It’s supposed to help,” Draco insisted, throwing a towel over Harry’s head as he passed.

“It’s okay,” Harry said, snagging Draco’s sleeve and pulling him in for a morning kiss. “I happen to think the face you pull with every sip is adorable.”

“That’s because you’re a ridiculous sap.”

Harry laughed as he walked into the bathroom, and stopped dead. “Er, Draco? What happened to the bathtub?”

“Oh. I put it in the loft to store for a while.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Hot baths decrease sperm motility, so I thought I’d take away the temptation.”

Harry stared at the spot where the huge clawfoot tub had been sitting up until yesterday. “No baths?” He asked forlornly.

“Just until I’m pregnant,” Draco said, sounding supremely uncaring.

“Right.” Harry stripped off his pajama bottoms and got in the shower, trying not to mourn the long hot baths to ease his aching muscles after a long week at work. He washed himself quickly and got out, returning to the bedroom to get dressed.

“Draco, what are these?”

Draco turned to look at the floppy piece of cloth Harry was holding out by his finger and thumb. “They’re boxers, Harry. I transfigured your underpants for you.”

“And again, why?” Harry asked, looking at the saggy things in disgust.

“Tight clothes also decrease sperm motility,” Draco replied promptly.

Harry sighed and stepped into them, grimacing at the absolute lack of support for his balls. Then he yelled for Draco again. “Where the hell are all my jeans?” A pair of baggy sweatpants landed on his head.

“Sperm motility,” Draco sang at him from halfway down the stairs.

Harry sighed and pulled the grey sweatpants on. At least he still had his t shirts.

They arrived at the Burrow with two gallons of grapefruit juice, because Draco was insistent that he drink nothing else except water or tea until they were pregnant. The Weasley grown ups were already setting out the quidditch pitch, with a smaller one to the side for all the children big enough to have a go themselves. Harry kissed Draco’s cheek and moved to join Ron and George, but was stopped with a hand to his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Draco asked, one eyebrow raised imperiously.

“I was going to help George set up the goalposts?”

Draco clucked his tongue. “Tell me Harry, do you think having a piece of wood pressed against your bits all afternoon is going to help matters?”

Harry blinked. “I, er… No?” He guessed.

“No, it won’t, so no flying for you. Go and help set up the lunch tables or something.”

Harry spluttered as Draco walked off towards the pitch, leaving him to walk towards the house on his own. He heaved a deep breath and sighed. In one morning, he’d lost his baths, his underpants, his jeans, and now flying. He walked up to the back door, comforting himself with the thought that hopefully soon, Draco would be losing his waistline.

“Harry, about time you showed up!” Hermione said, smiling brightly at him as they nearly bumped into each other in the doorway. She looked him up and down, her eyes widening slightly. “Wow, you uh, really showed up today, didn’t you?”

Harry glanced down at himself and felt his face turning red. Without any kind of support going on down there, his junk was proudly on display for everyone to see. “Er yeah, about that-”

“Oh is that Harry?” Luna poked her head over Hermione’s shoulder, Fleur and Ginny just behind her. She looked him up and down. “Did you forget to do any laundry again?”

“That was one time!” Harry blurted out, his face burning as all four women looked at him curiously. “And no, actually, Draco and I have something-”

“No no no, get back!”

Harry stumbled backwards as Draco shoved himself between him and the doorway, holding his arms out as though protecting Harry from a monstrous beast. Or maybe a terrible choice of robes in a clothing store. The girls all stared at Draco in surprise.

He hooked his chin over Draco’s arm. “Let me guess, sperm motility?”

“Don’t be silly,” Draco said, pushing Harry back another couple of steps. “Hanging around with women increases your own estrogen levels, which decreases your sperm count.”

Hermione gasped. “Does that mean..?” She asked, and Ginny clapped her hands excitedly.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, resting his hands on his stomach. “Sorry ladies, no shopping trips or tea parties for me for a while. We’re trying to have a baby.”

 


 

 

Harry was busy filing paperwork when the door to his office banged open. He looked up in surprise as Draco slammed the door shut behind him, casting a Colloportus at it and striding over to the desk.

“Er, hi?” Harry tried, a bit freaked out by the determination in Draco’s expression as he swept the desk clean.

“Drop your trousers,” Draco said by way of greeting, unbuckling his belt and shoving his own trousers down over his hips.

“What? Draco we can’t, not at work!” Harry gulped, the sight of Draco’s creamy white arse already thickening his cock in his - still too loose - boxers.

“We have to. Today is the 373rd complete lunar cycle of my birth, and I was born in the afternoon.” Draco dropped his trousers to his ankles and bent over the desk.

Harry let out a whimper at the sight of him, already prepped and ready to go. “Fuck. Okay, okay…” He undid his trousers and pulled his dick out, already hard and flushed from the scene laid out before him. The tip slid in the oil around Draco’s entrance, and they both groaned loudly.

“Shit, wait!” Draco levered himself up on his elbows and pointed his wand at the door again, casting a silencing charm around the office. “Okay, go.”

Harry laughed a gasping breath, that turned into a satisfied moan as he pushed all the way inside. Turned on by the illicit nature and Draco’s desperate wriggling, he set up a hard a punishing rhythm, driving them both towards the edge quickly. Draco’s muscles squeezed him tightly when Harry ran a hand up under his shirt, trying to touch as much skin as possible. “Oh fuck, Draco, I’m gonna-”

“Not yet, not yet,” Draco panted. “You have to keep going for another ninety seconds!”

“I… What?” Harry gritted his teeth, trying to hold on, and leaned over Draco’s back. “Are you… Timing us?”

“I’m waiting for the exact right time, you idiot,” Draco gasped, staring down at his watch. “Okay, okay, count down from ten and then you can finish.”

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered, but he did as he was told and counted down, his orgasm rushing through him with relief once he let go, feeling Draco come moments afterwards. He slumped backwards into his chair afterwards, and pulled Draco into his lap. “That was… fantastic,” he said, after he’d got his breath back. Draco kissed his chin and murmured agreement, then pulled himself up and righted his clothes.

“I have to go, I have a meeting with the Wizengamot in ten minutes,” he said, striding back to the door. He paused before dropping the spells and turned to Harry. “Oh, and you owe Audrey a gift basket from Honeydukes. One of those big ones.”

“I do?” Harry eyed Draco suspiciously. “Why?”

“I rubbed her belly for luck before I came in here, and I may have foregone asking permission first,” Draco said with a shrug.

“Draco! You can’t just go around touching pregnant women without asking!”

Draco rolled his eyes and unlocked the door. “Hence the big gift basket, you nit.”

Harry dropped his head onto the desk with a groan.

 


 

 

A few weeks later, Harry wandered into the kitchen to find that the large scrubbed wooden table had been turned into a plan for some kind of military attack. A large star chart covered the entire surface, scribbles in Draco’s neat handwriting all around the margins. The leaflets Dr Figwalt had given them were littered on top, turned to specific pages. Stacks of parchment threatened to fall off the edges of the table, filled with potions recipes and spell instructions and Arithmancy equations that Harry had no hope of deciphering. And in the middle of it all was a hand written chart with large green ticks in a few boxes.

“Are we invading Poland?” He asked mildly, giving the table a wide berth as he found himself some coffee.

Draco looked up from the large and rather mouldy tome he was immersed in and frowned. “Why would we do that?”

“Never mind.” Harry shook his head and sat down next to him, carefully pushing the teetering stack of parchment further onto the table with his elbow. “What are you up to?”

Draco snapped the book shut in frustration. “It’s been three months, Harry, and nothing. And I realised last night that we were doing it all wrong.”

“Didn’t feel wrong to me,” Harry muttered, grinning when Draco shot him an unimpressed look. “Fine, explain it to me.”

“We need to go about it more scientifically,” Draco said, picking up the parchment and rifling through the pages. “Turn it into a proper experiment, make sure we hit all of the bases.” He thrust a piece of parchment under Harry’s nose. Harry grabbed it and held it where he could see it properly. It was a list of all the things they should try to do to help along their chances:

  • Plant a rosemary bush
  • Give silver as a gift
  • Rub pregnant women’s bellies
  • Blessed water from Ireland
  • Moonstone charged under a full moon
  • Grapefruit juice and cinnamon honey
  • Sleep near a chicken

The list went on and on, to the point when Harry’s eyes started to cross. Draco was still talking, indicating his chart of things they’d already tried, his movements frustrated and irritable. Harry dropped the list onto the table and stood up.

“No,” he said.

Draco stopped mid-sentence and gaped up at him. “No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, no. No experiments, no pie charts, no assaulting pregnant women, no.” Harry grabbed Draco’s flailing hand and pulled him up out of his chair. “Did you forget what Dr Figwalt said to us at the beginning of all this?” He kissed Draco, taking advantage of his stunned expression to slip his tongue into his mouth. “He said we should have fun, remember?” He pointed at the cluttered table. “This? This isn’t fun, Draco.”

“But-”

“Shush.” Harry kissed him quiet, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of Draco’s pajama bottoms. “This is what we’re gonna do.” He palmed Draco’s dick, pulling gently until it began to harden in his hand. “First, I’m going to fuck you on this table, right now.”

Draco moaned, his eyes sliding shut as his hips pressed himself harder into Harry’s ministrations. “No, we can’t,” he protested weakly. “The stars aren’t aligned prop-”

“I said, shush.” Harry kissed him again, one hand around his neck to pull him in closer, the other jerking him slowly. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t even remember your name, let alone what the stars are doing right now.” He pushed at Draco’s bottoms until they slipped all the way down to his ankles, then slowly shoved Draco until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the table. He summoned the oil from the living room and pushed Draco down on top of the charts and lists, kissed his way down his chest until he reached Draco’s flushed and leaking cock.

“Harry,” Draco moaned, hands sliding into Harry’s hair and gripping tight when he opened his mouth to draw him in.

“And once we’re done here,” Harry continued, letting Draco’s dick slide out from his lips with an obscene pop, “We’re going to get cleaned up and go away for the weekend.” He pushed his own pajamas off and lifted Draco’s knees, exposing his hole. He bent down for a taste, and Draco cried out.

“We’ll Apparate to Ireland,” Harry said quietly, slicking his fingers with oil and penetrating Draco gently, first with one, adding another when Draco’s wriggling became more insistent. “You can drink water from a well blessed by some saint, and you can eat honey on warm bread, sprinkled with cinnamon.” He slicked up his cock and pushed in slowly. “And then we’ll find a bed and breakfast that houses its own bloody chickens, and we’ll do this all over again, okay?”

“Yes!” Draco cried out, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist and pulling him in, all the way to the hilt. “Fuck, Harry, oh fuck!”

Harry bent over and planted a kiss in the middle of Draco’s chest. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you, too,” Draco said, a smile on his lips as he looked up at Harry. “But you can make love to me later, in the B and B. Now fuck me hard.”

And Harry did. And it was fun.

 


 

 

Harry fumed the entire way from the Floo to the bedroom, glaring at Draco’s back. The gesture was ineffective, as Draco seemed to be ignoring him with just as much determination. When it became obvious that Draco wasn’t going to bring it up, Harry slammed the bedroom door, hard.

“What the bloody hell was your problem tonight?”

Draco paused by the side of the bed and gave Harry an incredulous sneer. “What was my problem? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, it was a joke I just made up,” Harry said sarcastically, kicking his shoes across the room. Draco watched them sail into the wardrobe door with two loud thumps. “You were in a snit the moment we got to the restaurant-”

“- He started it when he said -”

“- And you purposely wound him up -”

“- making that crack about my -”

“- like we were back in fucking school or something -”

“- and you said nothing when he called me -”

“- as though you were actively trying to get punched in the face!”

They were standing on opposite sides of the bed, yelling over each other as they stripped out of their clothes. Draco threw his underpants at Harry’s head, his chest heaving and his face splotched red with anger. “I notice you didn’t bother trying to stick up for me!”

“Because you were being an asshole!” Harry ripped back the bedsheets and thumped himself down in bed.

“He called me a ferret!”

Harry rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated growl. “Ron was just mucking around, and you know it!”

“Well I didn’t find it very amusing!”

Draco slammed himself into the bed next to Harry. They both lay on their backs, glaring up at the ceiling, fuming in silence.

“The potion is still viable for tonight and tomorrow,” Draco said finally, sullenness dripping from his tone.

“Ugh, fine.” Harry reached out a hand to the bedside table, scrabbling through the drawer for the vial of oil. He snapped it open and coated his hand, muttering under his breath. “Come on then.”

“If I even so much as look at your face right now, I’m going to hex your eyeballs inside out,” Draco snapped.

“Then turn over.”

Draco huffed and flipped onto his belly. He yanked Harry’s pillow out from under his head and shoved it under his hips.

“Thanks for that,” Harry said with a sneer, kneeling up and shoving Draco’s legs further apart.

“A come covered pillow is exactly what you deserve for not defending me from your friends,” Draco retorted, gasping lightly as Harry began to prep him.

“That’s assuming I’m going to let you come.” Harry scissored his fingers roughly, and Draco made that high-pitched sound he always made, like he was surprised by how much he liked it.

“You know what Dr. Figwalt said,” Draco muttered into his pillow, raising his arse to give Harry a better angle.

“Yeah, yeah. Endorphins make the potion more potent, I remember.” Harry removed his fingers and used the last of the oil to coat his dick. “Maybe I’ll let you get yourself off afterwards.”

“Fuck you,” Draco said, the words sliding into a groan as Harry pushed inside him with a single thrust.

“Not until after you’re pregnant,” Harry muttered, and began to move.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long; his anger over the disastrous dinner was still fizzing in his veins, mixing with his lust and stoking it higher, brighter. Draco’s hips moved urgently back against him, forcing him to skip any half-formed ideas of stretching it out, plunging him head first into the home run. His hand shoved between Draco’s belly and his pillow on autopilot, gripping Draco’s erection and tugging on it in counterpoint to the thrusts of his hips, twisting slightly on the upstroke just as Draco liked best. Draco came with a muffled groan a second before Harry’s world exploded into bright light, and he shoved in deep and held still until he could breathe again.

“Angry sex for the win,” Harry mumbled eventually, sliding to the side and wondering how long it would be before the feeling came back into his legs.

“Oh, shut up.”

Instead of turning onto his side, Draco lifted his legs, pulling them up over himself until he ended up in a weird head stand, his shoulders braced against his pillow and his heels smacking against the wall above the headboard.

Harry stared at him in amazement. “What are you doing?”

Draco shot him a supercilious look, but the effect was somewhat ruined by his funny position. “Gravity, Harry. I’m letting it do its job.”

All at once, the anger bled out of Harry, and he smiled down at Draco’s flushed face. He leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry. I should have stood up for you when Ron called you a ferret.”

Draco rolled his eyes, somewhat mollified. “I probably shouldn’t have called their house a hovel fit only for garden gnomes.” He sighed. “I just…”

He trailed off, but Harry knew what he meant. It had been hard for him too, listening to Ron and Hermione plan their third child all through dinner. “It’s only been a few months. We’ll get there.” He kissed Draco again. “Now get down from there and give me a cuddle.”

 


 

 

Nine months later…

“God, she’s so beautiful,” Harry whispered, staring down at the little bundle in Draco’s arms. “I mean, all babies are cute, but our baby? She’s gorgeous.”

“It’s the Malfoy genes, obviously,” Draco whispered back. He hadn’t looked away from the baby once in the hour since Lyra had been born, but Harry didn't blame him. He could hardly look away from her perfect face either.

“How are we doing in here?”

Harry looked up to find Dr Figwalt had come back, smiling down at them all, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Brilliant,” Harry said, turning back to look at Lyra again, just in case she’d moved in the last three seconds. “Everything is just brilliant.”

“Wonderful! I’m so glad everything worked out for you,” Figwalt said quietly, patting Draco’s arm lightly. “I’ll leave you to it then, I have no doubt you have everything just fine from here on out.”

He walked back to the door, stopping when Draco called out to him. “Yes, Mr Potter-Malfoy?”

“You might want to make a leaflet about angry sex,” Draco said, lifting a finger to stroke Lyra’s cheek. Her little rosebud mouth opened and closed. “It seemed to do the trick for us.”

“Really? I say, I wonder if…”

Dr Figwalt wandered out of the door, muttering under his breath about hormone levels and other things neither Harry, Draco, or Lyra paid any attention to.

“So,” Harry said, easing himself onto the edge of the bed, so he could more easily hold his slightly bigger family. “Still only want just the one?”

Draco finally looked up at him and smirked. “I believe I did mention the possibility of having two.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that, too.”

“Or three.”

“Three?”

Draco smiled, wide enough to show his teeth. “Maybe.”

Harry grinned back. “What about a pet crup?”

“Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

Harry kissed him, certain that soon enough he’d change his mind.

 

FIN.