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Treacle Tarts and Yule Logs

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Sometimes Draco could scarcely believe the turns his life had taken. Or, perhaps more accurately, he could scarcely believe that his life had finally taken a turn in a positive direction.

He and Harry had come a long way from their Hogwarts days. They had both become Aurors after graduation, and following that path together changed their relationship dramatically. They had both matured, Draco especially. But even so, Draco wouldn’t have called their relationship a friendship until they had already been working together for several years.

They had been assigned a few cases and projects together over their tenure at the Ministry, and as a result of sharing a graduating year and last names that fell somewhat close together alphabetically, their desks were even next to one another. In their early days it was apathetic as expected. But they had to be professionals, and Draco wasn’t going to let Potter’s obvious distrust of him grate on his nerves. Even if his boyish crush on Harry never allowed him even a moment’s peace. It hadn’t at Hogwarts either. Draco figured that maybe his and Potter’s paths being forever intertwined was just another way he was being punished for all his wrongs.

But as a few years passed, their relationship became...something else. The distrustful leer Harry used to get in his eyes whenever Draco said something had dissipated. When they were doing busy work, Harry began actually chatting with Draco, about Ron and Hermione, about the new treats at Honeydukes, about his noisy upstairs neighbors. Anything that was on his mind. At first, Draco almost thought he was mocking him. Draco’s personal life was mundane if he was being gentle with himself, nonexistent if he was being honest. When he was done at work for the day, he’d go back to being the only resident of Malfoy Manor. Aside from the house elves that remained, of course. There were certain rooms and areas of the manor that Draco still had a hard time being in. The memories were too fresh and painful at first, but ever adept at compartmentalising his feelings, he forced himself to get over it soon enough. He had disassociated from most of his Hogwarts friends, either feeling too ashamed of his choices and actions to reconnect, or not feeling entirely comfortable with their choices and actions. Pansy remained one of his only friends, and even then he often couldn’t be bothered to reach out.

But Potter wasn’t mocking him. Because, really, he just wasn’t mean enough to try and hurt someone subtly like that. Draco just wasn’t used to it.

And so he grew to enjoy Potter’s stories. It made him feel like he was a part of something, even if he really wasn’t. He learned quite a bit about Harry’s life, enough that he could ask questions or make jokes. Potter seemed to eat up the way Draco was finally responding to his babbling, and for the first time, they begun to establish actual rapport. Over the course of a few months, somehow Draco began bringing Harry a morning tea along with his own to work, usually with a scone, muffin or some biscuits to accompany it. Sometimes they even ate lunch together.

One thing noticeably missing from all Harry’s ramblings was literally anything about his girlfriend of several years, Ginny. They had been establishing friendship for months, and he hadn’t mentioned her once. Draco was certain of it, because he knew how his heart would’ve ached at the mention of someone else being with Harry.

She wasn’t mentioned until one morning, when Draco placed Harry’s breakfast tea and a poppyseed scone onto his desk with a chipper (for Draco, at least), “Morning, Potter.”

Harry slowly glanced up, meeting Draco’s eyes for the briefest moment before glancing back down at the papers on his desk and quietly saying, “Hi, Malfoy. Morning.”

Draco glanced at Harry again, unusually sullen, but Harry only continued to rifle through his papers as if he were actually doing something. Draco figured he’d leave him alone. After all, everyone’s entitled to moody days, right? Even Potter wasn’t an exception to that, certainly.

It wasn’t until a few hours passed, nearing lunchtime, that Draco said something. Harry hadn’t touched his tea, but more concerningly, hadn’t touched his scone. If there was something Draco had learned about him these few months, it was that Harry had an unyielding sweet tooth. The fact was both endearing and frankly, predictable.

“Are you...alright, Potter?” Malfoy said quietly, leaning towards Harry’s desk so to not alert anyone else around.

What answered was a quiet sniffle, and Draco realized with alarm that Harry was crying softly at his desk.

Draco was frozen. He didn’t know how to deal with a situation like this. But stronger than his uncertainty was his desire to protect Harry, and stronger still was his anger at whatever had Harry so upset.

So Draco slyly slid a box of tissues his way (Draco had gotten an unfortunate cold earlier in spring, the box had been untouched on his desk since then), and Harry glanced up with surprise before immediately putting his head back down, but taking the tissues. Draco had seen how red and watery his eyes were, and felt his heart clench pitifully.

“Clean yourself up, then let’s go,” Draco said softly.

Harry glanced Draco’s way again, wary. “Where are we going?” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion.

“Anywhere. We’re taking an early lunch.”

Harry looked torn, probably embarrassed to have Draco see him like this, but he also was very obviously not up to working at the present. Either way, the tears had seemingly stopped for now, so he nodded and stood.

Draco decided they’d go to Harry’s favorite little muggle sandwich shop. He didn’t care much for muggle dining, but he had gotten more familiar thanks to Potter, and he knew there were a few booths tucked into the back that were pretty secluded, as private as they could realistically get while also making sure Harry got something in his stomach.

When they arrived, Draco wordlessly pointed Harry to the back of the store to go sit down, and Harry nodded and left obediently. Draco ordered, painfully realizing he knew Harry’s regular order by heart, paid, and brought the food back to their booth.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Draco said, “So, um. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I...Ginny broke up with me,” Harry said, fiddling with a napkin.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Draco said, feeling awkward, but wanting desperately to help.

Harry shrugged. “It’s been a while coming, you know? When we got together, it was...we thought there was a pretty good chance we weren’t going to make it, you know? So it was like, why not? When we might not see tomorrow? But after everything, we’re just not a good couple, I think. I don’t think we were ever compatible for an actual emotional relationship. We’ve been struggling for a while. I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

Leave it to Harry Potter to always act like his problems mattered less than everyone else’s. “It’s reasonable to still be upset, though. You guys have been together for years now. It’ll be an adjustment,” Draco said carefully.

Draco feared he chose the wrong words, because tears began to reform in Harry’s eyes. “It’s just- I can’t talk to Ron about it, because it’s his bloody sister. All my friends, really, they’re her friends, too.”

Draco paused before quietly saying, “You can talk to me.”

A small smile snuck across Harry’s face, “I know. I- thank you.”

They sat in silence for another few seconds before Draco teased gently, “That’s it then? All that talk about not being able to talk to anyone, and that’s all you’ve got to get off your chest?”

Harry huffed a small laugh that was quickly replaced with sullenness, and he looked down into his lap again.

“I just feel stupid. I tried so hard to make it work. It feels like wasted time, for both of us,” another pause before he continued, “there’s, um. She found someone else.”

Fucking weasel whore, was the first thought to cross Draco’s mind, then he chastised himself the best he could with how angry he felt. Despite everything, Harry wouldn’t want him to think that way about her.

“She didn’t cheat on me or anything,” Harry quickly amended, and Draco realized that his expression must’ve displayed his emotions. “She just...found someone she’d rather be with. Someone she’s more compatible with.”

Draco wanted to argue, but decided now was probably not the best time. Either way, Harry wasn’t done.

“It was probably stupid to come to work today, too, but I just needed to get out of the house. I couldn’t stay there you know?” Harry leaned back in his seat and wiped the tears from his eyes. “God, I don’t know how I’m going to go back there tonight.”

“Don’t then.”

Harry looked up, confused.

“Erm, I mean. I’ve got plenty of space. A spare bedroom or five for you to pick from, if you want. Malfoy Manor might not, eh, hold the happiest memories for you, but. It might be better than going home,” Draco said with a shrug, trying desperately to make it seem like Harry’s response didn’t matter to him, and hating himself for feeling heat rising in his cheeks.

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment and Draco wondered if he had ruined their entire relationship in one fell swoop. Why on earth would Harry ever want to stay in Malfoy-

“You’d really do that for me?”

Draco felt his own mouth open, then shut. Unable to think of a better response, he said, “Well, that’s what mates are for, yeah?” He fought a cringe at his own words. Mates. Fucking hell.

“I- yeah, yeah, of course. I really appreciate it. Thank you.”


And so Harry ended up staying with Draco until Ginny moved out. Draco would’ve gladly had it take months, but she was regretfully gone in just three weeks.

But Draco treasured those three weeks. Harry was prone to feeling down for the duration which was understandable of course, but Draco was more than happy to take care of him. Usually it consisted of having the house elves cook some rich comfort food, or bake some dessert. Draco even ran out to get some muggle takeaway a few times. Then they’d eat on the couch with Harry’s laptop on the table in front of them, watching whatever TV show was popular with muggles, as Draco didn’t actually own a TV, but it always seemed to make Harry happy. So Draco didn’t mind, even if some jokes and plot points were lost on him. Hell, he had considered buying a TV and hiring someone to install cable, but he figured that might be a bit much. He didn’t want to scare Harry away.

“You’re gonna make me fat,” Harry complained more than once, but it was always half-hearted, and always followed by him accepting whatever food or treat Draco was offering.

He had softened a little, Draco noticed. Guiltily, he realized it was probably his own fault. He was well aware of his own sexual preferences leaning towards heavier men, but he hadn’t intended for Harry to gain any weight. It was just the easiest way to make Harry give him that shining smile that made Draco’s heart feel like beating out of his chest. It was the easiest way to show his affection without seeming too intimate.

It was practically nothing, probably only five pounds, maybe just a touch more. But because of Draco’s inclination, he had noticed the subtle softening around Harry’s jaw. He noticed his collarbones weren’t as prominent. When he sat, Draco could see his shirts fit just barely more snuggly around his stomach. Ashamedly, Draco wished it was more. But it was only going to last a few weeks, anyway. Whatever handful of pounds that were sticking to his middle these days would surely get shed once he went home. And despite Harry’s words, Draco doubted that he even noticed the handful of pounds.

While Harry was with Draco, their relationship continued to change. Living with someone, even temporarily, was so much different than working with them. All it took were a few late nights of talking, and maybe a little drinking, for their relationship to grow more personal than Draco ever imagined it could be. Emotional admissions, fears, and confessions about their Hogwarts days were spilled from both of them.

Draco hadn’t realized how much he had been hurting until one of Harry’s last nights there, and after splitting a bottle and a half of wine, Harry finally asked what being a death eater had really been like. He gave Harry all the gory details, not seeing a reason to refrain at this point. It was a conversation that he had always feared. If nothing else scared Harry away, this would be it. Might as well bite the bullet now, because it would only hurt even more later. While telling his own stories, Draco couldn’t quite decipher Harry’s expression. He was uncharacteristically solemn, but his eyes were brimming with emotion. Draco just couldn’t quite tell what.

When Draco finished, Harry reached down and took his hand. Draco felt his breath hitch and felt stinging in his eyes that warned the approach of tears. He was surprised how dry they had stayed until now.

Harry ran his warm thumb across the back of Draco’s hand soothingly. They didn’t touch often. No hugs, nothing. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Harry’s eyes.

“I didn’t believe that you were trying to change. At the beginning, at least,” Harry said and Draco looked up, cringing at the understanding he was met with. Draco didn’t deserve it.

“You don’t have to-” Draco started. He didn’t want Harry’s pity, he didn’t.

But Harry interrupted, “Shh. You made some really bad choices. Choices that hurt a lot of good people. But you were also a child, we all were. You were scared. And it sounds like you’ve spent enough time beating yourself up over all this. There’s no reason to anymore. I believe you’re truly remorseful for the mistakes, and now, you do good things that help people every day. You don’t have to be ashamed of the past anymore.”

Draco scoffed, tugging his hand from Potter’s grasp. He wasn’t angry with Draco, like he should’ve been. A tear made its way down his cheek, and was quickly wiped away with the back of his hand. “Don’t have to be ashamed, yeah? Tell me, Potter, where do your friends think you are right now?”

Harry looked embarrassed, “I told them I was staying with a friend from work,” he admitted.

“Not technically a lie, eh? How very ‘boy who lived’ of you.”

Harry didn’t rise to the bait. When he was younger, he would’ve. For some reason, that only irritated Draco more. Instead, Harry looked down at his own hands where they were in his lap. A look of steely determination crossed his face, and he rose, beginning to rummage through the drawers in Draco’s living room.

“What’re you doing?” Draco said.

“You have paper somewhere? A quill?”

Draco’s curiosity got the better of him, and he fetched what Harry requested.

Harry sat back down and began scribbling furiously. Draco stood, feeling a bit awkward, but too anxious to sit back down.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked again.

“Writing Ron and Hermione. Letting them know I’ve been staying at my friend Draco Malfoy’s and am feeling considerably better thanks to him. Hermione can keep a secret, but Ron’s got a big mouth. I assure you, anyone else who matters in my life will know my exact whereabouts by tomorrow morning. Now, where’s your owl?”

Draco gaped at him. “You...don’t have to do that. I was just making a point,” he said softly.

“No. You were right. I am not ashamed to be your friend.”

They made eye contact, Harry’s unflinching green eyes challenging, daring Draco to try and protest again.

“Typical Gryffindor,” Draco choked out, and he felt a few more tears streak down his face.

Then Harry was there, hugging him. Draco hadn’t been hugged in ages. He hardly even thought about it as his arms returned Harry’s embrace, holding him tight as he cried silent tears.

Harry only had to stay at the Manor a few more days after that, but evidence of that evening remained. Draco noticed he was receiving more casual touches from Harry. A hand on his shoulder as Harry was passing by, nudging at his knee when Harry told a joke that Draco didn’t laugh hard enough at. Sitting so their thighs touched on the couch.

But then, he was gone. It felt like a hole was punched in his heart, coming home alone to the big empty house. Work was better, because Harry was there. But coming home just made him feel so alone. He hadn’t realized how lonely he was before Harry. He almost felt worse off than before; Harry being at the Manor gave Draco a taste of what being with him could be like. And he enjoyed it even more than he thought he would, which seemed like it should’ve been impossible.

It had barely been a week, Draco was sipping scotch alone in his parlor while sifting through some parchments, and there was a tapping on his window.

Draco rose and opened the opaque glass to find a tawny owl perched on his sill. He didn’t recognize the owl, but it immediately walked forward into the room and hopped down onto a table below the window, making a pleased little chirping sound and offering Draco the letter it had in its beak.

“Stay a while, why don’t you,” Draco muttered moodily at the owl, which only blinked happily in return. Draco took the letter, opened it and felt his heart stop.

I miss you - H.P

After the initial shock, a million responses came to mind, each more avoidant than the last.

‘More like you miss Krunchy’s lemon tarts.’

‘I’ll be seeing you at work in about ten hours, Potter, don’t fret.’

‘I’ve got company right now, sorry.’

But Harry actually missed him. And he missed Harry. He missed Harry so much it felt like a literal hole in his chest. So he took his quill out and got a fresh parchment and scrawled: Floo over then -D.M

He handed his letter back to Harry’s owl who took it happily, not before rubbing its head affectionately against Draco’s knuckles.

When the owl left and Draco shut the window, he was left with nothing but the option to overthink what would happen next. It was nearly 10 p.m, surely Harry didn’t want to just hang out for a bit, have a pint? Draco also hadn’t thought about it until now, but did Harry’s flat even have a fireplace connected to the floo network? Harry didn’t talk much about his own place, but Draco assumed it was a wizarding complex, it would be foolish for Harry to reside in anything else. Then again, Harry didn’t always make the most logical decisions and he admittedly did a better job at fitting in amongst muggles than most other wizards.

Draco was saved from his thoughts when he heard a familiar woosh come from downstairs. He quickly left his parlor and began descending the stairs. He saw Harry in the fireplace, shaking soot from his unruly black hair. Hasn’t he ever heard of a comb? It was so unfair that it looked both so unkempt and yet so charming.

“Potter. So what brings you here at this hour?” Draco said, unable to help the smirk that came across his face. It wasn’t the reaction he wanted to have, he wanted to run to Harry and give him a tight hug, he wanted to press his lips to Harry’s. But old habits die hard.

Harry didn’t seem phased, braver than Draco as always. “I missed you,” he said, echoing his letter and looking serious but just a dash uncertain.

“Oh,” was all Draco could muster in response. He had descended the stairs and entered the living room, standing a few feet back from Harry.

Harry broke the distance first, stepping closer while saying, “There’s just...something I need to say.”

“Erm, alright. Do you want to sit-?”

“No,” Harry said stepping closer still. They were too close now for Draco’s sanity, close enough that Draco could see the way Harry’s green eyes familiarly glittered with determination.

“I...feel like there’s a real connection between us.” Harry said boldly.

Draco felt himself gape. “ what?”

“You heard me. We’ve changed, we’ve grown up, and, uh,” Harry paused and looked uncertain for a moment before continuing, “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you here. I hadn’t felt so happy in months. Maybe years,” he laughed humorlessly before continuing, “I want to feel that happy again. I hadn’t realized how much I was missing.”

Draco felt emotion erupt in his chest. He could scarcely believe this was really happening. Even so, he couldn’t just roll over and allow himself to accept what he always wanted. It wasn’t in his nature. He didn’t deserve this.

“You don’t really feel like that,” Draco said, hearing his own voice crack and cringing, “You’re just still upset about Ginny. You’re still mourning your relationship, you don’t really-”

“I know how I feel. I have feelings for you, Draco, I do,” Harry insisted as Draco shook his head, then choked out a pitiful sound when Harry used his first name. They had never.

“And I think you have feelings for me, too,” Harry said quietly.

A confused and bitter laugh, thick from the emotion in Draco’s throat, bubbled to the surface. “So then what? Draco Malfoy and Harry fucking Potter, a bloody couple? I can see the Daily Prophet headlines already. And what of your friends, then? I’m certain they took so kindly to you staying here for weeks, I’m sure they were over the moon! And now, what? You want to date me? They’ll love that, I’m sure. They’ll think you’re under imperius.”

Harry grimaced, “They won’t be pleased, they’ll probably be confused, I won’t lie to you. But, Malfoy, who bloody cares what anyone thinks?! They’ll get over it!”

“A little short sighted, don’t you think? Will I be attending Weasley Christmases, too? I can hear how happy they’d be to see me already.” Draco had no idea why he was fighting Harry, not when Harry was handing him everything Draco ever wanted. Harry deserves better, and you most definitely do not deserve him.

Harry was finally looking angry, and for some reason, that made Draco feel relieved. He’ll realize he’s better off without me.

“Why can’t we just try?! I know what we’ll face, wizarding media has been down my throat since I was a kid! And my friends...let me worry about them, please. They’ll come around. It will take them time, but they will,” Harry pleaded.

Draco was speechless. Harry stepped closer still, and reached his hands up to cup Draco’s face, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Tell me you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me you don’t and I’ll go.”

Draco was always an excellent liar. Even as emotionally distraught as he was right now, he’d be able to look Harry in the eyes and lie right to his face. It wouldn’t be a problem.

But this was his last chance. Did he really want to say goodbye to everything he and Harry had built? Did he really want to be alone in this enormous, god forsaken mansion forever?

“Of course I have feelings for you,” Draco mumbled, his speech feeling a bit restricted because of how Harry was still holding his cheeks.

But Harry seemed to have heard all the same, because he slowly smiled at him, a watery, breathless laugh escaping him. Then his grin turned more playful, “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Oh, sod off, I said of course I have feelings for you!”


Harry spent the night at the Manor that night. And their intertwined lives had seen more changes since.

Harry, for one, changed career paths after they had been together about six months. He brought it up on an evening in October, as they sat in front of Draco’s new flat screen, watching Draco’s new favorite muggle show, Game of Thrones. He kept up well with the plot because of his political upbringing, and saw many of the ploys before Harry, which always pleased him. And the dragons were surprisingly realistic.

“So, um,” Harry said when a commercial came on, “I was thinking about leaving the Aurors.”

Draco looked at him, surprised, and opened his arms, which Harry gladly climbed into, resting his head against Draco’s chest.

“It’s just...not what I thought it would be, you know?” Draco did know. It always seemed a weird fit for Harry in his opinion, but he realized that Harry must’ve thought it would be dramatic and exciting, going on elaborate missions and fighting evil and darkness at every turn. And it was, sometimes. But more often, it was filled with politics and paperwork, and investigations that didn’t have happy endings. Worse, more than once they’ve encountered a young witch or wizard who had no idea what they were getting into or that what they did was wrong, and have to hand them over to the Ministry for prosecution. Draco figured maybe that hit a little close to home. Truthfully, those things didn’t bother him as much. They weren’t pleasant, but he could deal with them. Draco was better at closing himself off from those feelings of sadness or sympathy.

Harry continued, “I feels like a waste if I quit, but I don’t enjoy it, really. We trained for so long, just to even call ourselves Aurors. I know I’m doing good work, but I think I can still do good work somewhere else.”

“That’s fine, love. You don’t have to stay on my account.” He’d miss working with him, but he could deal with that knowing that he’d still come home to him. “You want to work somewhere else in the Ministry then?”

“Um, well actually...Hogwarts is in need of a new Defensive Magic professor.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, “McGonagall would have you in a heartbeat. Although, ‘Defensive Magic’? Isn’t that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts title? Makes me nervous, you taking a jinxed position,” Draco teased, mostly joking.

“That’s why they changed the name, you know, because it carried such a stigma. But I’m more than qualified I think, working as an Auror for years is qualification enough.”

“You’re taking the piss if you think for one second you won’t be offered the position the moment you apply,” Draco said, carding a hand soothingly through Harry’s dark hair.

Harry looked pleased, which warmed Draco’s heart. In truth, he didn’t care much what Harry wanted to do with his career. They had plenty of money between the two of them. Draco only wanted Harry to be happy.

And so Harry applied, and predictably was welcomed with open arms onto the staff at Hogwarts. He seemed to enjoy it greatly, and loved to tell stories about his students. Draco found it hopelessly endearing how happy it made Harry.

But something else had begun to happen around that time, too. Harry began putting on some weight.

Draco had never stopped spoiling Harry with lavish meals and treats, and Harry never stopped looking immensely pleased and accepting. But without Auror training to keep Harry active, the most exercise he was getting was pacing his classroom while giving lectures.

Auror training had changed both of their bodies, adding a layer of muscle to both of them. They had both been scrawny little things upon beginning training, but filled out since. Draco, admittedly vain as ever, was immensely pleased with his newfound musculature and even began putting in a few extra hours into exercising, giving him well-defined muscles along his torso and arms. Harry had still definitely been thin, but not scrawny like before.

Harry had definitely softened since then. His cheeks had filled out, making him look cherubic in a way that made Draco’s heart thump uncomfortably in his chest. He had a plump little tummy that pressed against his shirts, and sometimes they’d ride up a bit and reveal a sliver of that soft belly and Draco would feel faint. His robes hid the weight effectively, so it wasn’t really until he’d get home and change into something else that Draco got a good view.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” Harry asked one evening as Draco frantically slid Harry’s sweatpants off his legs. Harry had eaten well at dinner, like he always did, and had been methodically working his way through a plate of brownies that Bodgey, one of the house elves, had made for him. The elves practically worshiped Harry, and honestly that pleased Draco greatly, because they’d bring him plates of sweets without Draco even prompting them to.

Harry had looked so heavenly and thick that Draco just couldn’t bear it anymore. He was wearing a t-shirt that had been sliding up his tummy for a while, just helping himself to brownie after brownie, so when he managed to clear the plate, looking a bit stuffed, Draco immediately scooped him up and carried him upstairs to his room.

“You just look so good,” Draco said breathily as he dove in to mark up Harry’s bare legs. His thighs had rounded out, the flesh yielding under his fingertips. He groaned and Harry chuckled at him.

“Is it because you see less of me now that I work at Hogwarts? D’you miss me? Because your sex drive has been, ngh, out of control- ooh!”

Draco grinned up at him from where he sat between his legs, giving him teasing strokes. “Are you complaining?”

Draco supposed he should’ve mentioned his preferences to Harry. But now that Harry had already went and put on some weight, Draco didn’t know how to bring it up.

But he didn’t have to, because Harry brought it up himself a few weeks later. They were at Harry’s flat, which was generally the less prefered destination between their two abodes, but Harry had his heart set on Indian takeaway to chase away the chill of January, and his favorite one delivered to his flat.

They had eaten, and Harry had plans to go out with his friends later to some pub. A muggle pub of all places, so Draco didn’t particularly understand the appeal. Harry invited him to go, which Draco declined, and Harry didn’t press the issue. They had reached a point where Harry’s friends tolerated him, and some were more outwardly friendly than others. But all the same, Draco usually preferred not to join.

Harry had went into his bedroom to change, and Draco was gathering his things to floo home. Draco waited for Harry to emerge for a few minutes, so he could say goodnight, but he never reappeared.

“Harry? You alright in there?” Draco called, beginning to grow concerned.

“Um. Yeah, just fine, thanks,” Harry called back, sounding like he was trying to mask distress.

Harry had left his bedroom door open, so Draco walked over and peeked in.

Harry stood shirtless, crammed into a pair of jeans. He had gotten them over his behind and hips, but they left very little to the imagination, emphasizing how much weight he had added to his ass and thighs lately. His belly rested in the open flaps, looking rounder and chubbier than it ever had before. He had figured Harry put on about a stone, but it was looking more like a stone and a half. Draco’s fingers itched to reach out and caress, but Harry was glaring at his belly through the mirror he was stationed in front of. Then he caught sight of Draco in the reflection and froze.

“Um,” Harry said, wide-eyed, and he looked like his brain tried to come up with about a million excuses, before he settled on the truth. He huffed a sigh, which left him a little slumped, emphasizing his tummy further, and said “So, uh, I guess I’ve put on some weight.”

Draco shrugged in the doorway, “You’ve been eating well lately. Just engorgio your pants.”

“You knew, didn’t you? Ugh, why didn’t you say anything?” Harry pouted, crossing his arms over his soft chest.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic. I didn’t say anything because it doesn’t matter. You look good.”

As Draco was speaking, he walked towards Harry’s figure in front of the mirror and Harry tensed, then relaxed when Draco put his hands on his soft hips and pressed kisses into his neck.

Harry huffed and said, “Guess I should go on a diet. Maybe go to a gym or something. Ugh.”

Draco hummed, “Bodgey will be disappointed. Do whatever you want, love. But don’t bother on my account.”

“I can see the Prophet headlines already. ‘Potter’s waistline goes to pot’.”

Draco chuckled and nudged Harry so he turned around in his grasp. “That’s quite clever, dear, maybe another career change is in order.”

Harry laughed until Draco moved his hands up to rest on Harry’s belly. Harry flushed and looked away, but didn’t push Draco away.

“Diet if you want, Harry, but I think you look wonderful. You shouldn’t worry because a stupid pair of muggle pants don’t fit right.”

Draco couldn’t help it, as he was speaking, his hands got curious. One drifted to Harry’s side, where the tight waistband was giving him a handsome little roll of fat there. His other hand drifted higher on Harry’s belly, where it was still taut from all the Indian food he crammed in.

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled, then looked down to watch Draco’s hands curiously. He was still a little flushed when a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“You like it, don’t you?”

Draco froze, which was the exact wrong reaction to have, because Harry grinned victoriously.

“You do, you kinky bastard! That’s why you’ve been jumping my bones so much lately, ‘cause I’ve been getting chubby and you like it!”

Draco would’ve apologized, but Harry didn’t actually seemed bothered. He only seemed quite pleased with himself for figuring it out.

Draco figured maybe he should apologize anyway. “Harry, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I don’t want you to think you have to do anything for me, or that-”

“Draco,” Harry soothed, “I don’t mind that you’re into this. It’s a bit of a relief, actually. I really didn’t want to go to the gym. And Bodgey really would be disappointed, wouldn’t he? Although I guess it makes sense now, how much you fed me up.”

Draco was horrified, “I didn’t feed you up, I didn’t mean to-!”

Harry only laughed again and kissed him to stop him from talking, “Draco, I’m only teasing you. I was only scared that you’d be turned off, really. What’s an extra stone anyways? It’s worth it to drive you crazy.”

More than a stone, Draco wanted to say, because he was fairly certain that it was true, but he kept his mouth shut. He could hardly believe Harry wasn’t angry, or disgusted, or disappointed.

Harry leaned in for another kiss, this time allowing his pudgy tummy to bump against Draco’s clothed torso. Draco gasped into the kiss, which only made Harry grin into the kiss.

Harry pulled back and said, “Don’t suppose you have your wand on you? Mind charming these for me?” Harry asked, tugging on his belt loops.

Draco pulled his wand out, pointed it at the pants, cleared his throat and said, “Engorgio.”

The denim stretched visibly, until it fit more comfortably around the circumference of Harry’s belly. Draco was treated to Harry still having to suck in his little starter tum a bit to get the button through the hole, then he pulled the zipper up with little issue.

When he exhaled, he definitely looked noticeably plump. The pants fit better all around, but still sliced into his little belly, forcing the rest of it to spill overtop in a nice roll over his waistband.

Harry observed this with a disdainful look in the mirror and looked back to Draco questioningly, “This really does it for you?”

“You look like someone is taking good care of you.”

Harry smiled softly at him, “Well, someone is. Even if he feeds me a bit too much.”

After that evening, Harry loved to tease Draco, using his weight as the ultimate weapon. His already healthy appetite grew further. He was downright voracious. He’d eat anything Draco put in front of him, and Draco knew he overfed him consistently. He couldn’t help it. The quantities of food he’d ask the elves to prepare only increased as time went on, and the amount Harry could eat increased as well. He’d snack plenty on his own, flitting into Draco’s kitchen and cleaning out his cupboards, then accepting whatever treats the elves had bestowed on him as well. Draco was almost surprised, because certainly Harry had to know that if he kept eating like this, he’d only put on more and more weight.

Either Harry was even more oblivious than he seemed, or he didn’t mind the idea. Either way, Harry obviously loved to watch Draco squirm as he ate, and ate, and ate. It was an easy way to break Draco’s composure. All he needed was the image of Harry eating, or glimpse of his soft belly to be at Harry’s mercy.

As time went on, Draco began teasing Harry back. He hadn’t been certain how Harry would react, but to his delight, Harry seemed to enjoy that, as well. Draco needed to find some way to fight back, after all.

A squeeze to Harry’s belly as he finished off dinner, saying, “Hm, I do feed you too much don’t I?”

A pinch on his rear as he rummaged through Draco’s kitchen looking for a snack, “Lunch was only an hour ago. Surely you can’t be hungry?”

When Harry was particularly enthused about a meal, eating so fast Draco could hardly believe it, “Pace yourself, love. You’re going to overdo it and then moan for a belly rub, I can see it already.”

As Harry moved to straddle Draco’s hips, preparing to ride him, “Oof. Someone’s getting heavy. Maybe I should put you on a diet.”

As the weeks went on, Harry’s weight continued to escalate. His soft belly couldn’t be hidden from his old t-shirt anymore, but he’d still wear them around the Manor, allowing his pudgy lower belly to be exposed. His sweatpants grew tight around his widening rear and thickening thighs. Harry moved slower, whether he was walking upstairs or making out with Draco, he was still adjusting to his weight so he about moved slowly. Languidly. Lazily.

It was hard to tell now how much weight Harry had put on. He had to get new robes recently because his old ones wouldn’t meet in the middle anymore. He used engorgio on some of his clothes, but others it was easier to just purchase replacements.

Now, he and Harry had been dating for just over a year, and he could scarcely believe how happy he was. To the distress of the elves, Harry decided he wanted to do some baking this particular Saturday afternoon. They had pleaded with Harry to allow them to prepare him something, and try as he might to explain it, they just didn’t seem to understand that sometimes people enjoy baking and want to do it themselves. Draco had to shoo them out of the kitchen and assign them other tasks in the meantime, otherwise they were likely to only upset themselves.

Harry was making chocolate chip cookies, which Draco moaned about being too American. As if he was planning on eating any in the first place.

It didn’t bother Harry either way. As he mixed the chocolate chips into the dough, Draco watched him with keen eyes from his seat at the kitchen table. He was in the middle of trying to guess what Harry’s current weight was, settling on maybe 15 stone and some change, when Harry picked up the greased baking sheet, turned over his shoulder and said, “Can you help with the dough?”

“Of course,” Draco said easily, rising and coming up behind Harry. His hands latched on to where Harry’s shirt was begging to ride up the curve of his stomach and stuck his hands underneath. He hummed happily and began massaging the ample flesh.

“That feels nice, but it’s not what I asked,” Harry said, leaning back against Draco’s chest all the same.

“What do you mean? This is the doughiest thing in the room,” Draco said, taking a handful of belly fat and shaking it, letting Harry’s entire torso jiggle in response.

Harry snorted a laugh and shooed Draco’s hands away. “You’re an arse. C’mon, now.”

Draco obediently helped Harry form the dough into little circles on the tray. For his labor, he was treated to Harry eating the entire batch over the course of the evening.

Life was good. For the first time in Draco’s memory, life was good.


Harry shifted at his desk.

Tamby, one of Draco’s house elves, had given him a pouch of orange chocolate biscuits filled with a sweet vanilla creme to pick at throughout the day. It was only 11 a.m. and he was nearly through them. He’d have to ask her for a bit more next time. She’d be more than happy to give it to him.

But the strain on his waistband of his trousers suggested he do the exact opposite. He’d always been a big eater, once he was allowed to be anyway, but he had always been active, with either quidditch or Auror training. His appetite was getting maybe a little out of hand lately.

He knew he had put on a bit more weight over the past few months, as it was now June. School was out for the year, but Hogwarts was still bustling with staff, keeping the grounds or crafting lesson plans for the next year. He didn’t have to keep any sort of regular hours during summer, but he still came by a few times a week to work on his plans for the next school year.

It would be a lie to say that his weight bothered him. Sometimes he felt like it should, but usually, it just didn’t. Ron had gotten pretty paunchy himself after his and Hermione’s first kid, then lost a bit and gained it right back and then some when they had their second. Neville had filled out a bit again, too, thanks to Luna’s doting. There had indeed been some news articles as he feared, but he was surprised at how little it mattered him. Draco obviously adored it, and their little teasing games were great fun.

He knew he’d want to slow down eventually, but he wasn’t all that big yet. The last time he had been weighed was admittedly months ago now, when he was still an Auror. It had been while he was staying with Draco, and for their yearly physical examination. He had weighed in at 11.5 stone. It was a few pounds higher than his normal weight, but he hardly thought about it.

He figured he probably clocked in around 14 stone now, maybe a touch more, but probably not 15 just yet. He was heavier than he had ever been, certainly, but that was a manageable number.

He fiddled with his waistband again. Damn these trousers. They weren’t that old either, but they were biting into his sides fiercely. He took his wand out and cast a quick engorgio charm, and felt his waistband grow more comfortable. He sighed with relief and helped himself to another biscuit.

He heard loud voices passing in the hall and couldn’t help listening in, despite the door to his office being closed.

“He’s getting properly fat, he is. You’ve seen pictures of him as a boy, haven’t you? He was thin as anything!”

“Aye, because he was starved half to death. He’s better for it, puttin’ on a bit o’ weight, if you ask me.”

“Sure, maybe a bit, but it’s gone beyond that, don’t you think? I mean, you saw him when he started here. He was fit, like a proper Auror! I wonder what Mister Malfoy thinks.”

Harry felt his blood run cold. He had figured the women were talking about him, but now it was confirmed.

The second voice, Harry thought it might’ve been the charms professor, Madame Flywinde, and he didn’t recognize the first voice, said, “Weird match, that one. But from what I’ve ‘eard, Malfoy adores him. Now hush, woman, we’re by his office.”

Their voices dropped to whispers, then disappeared altogether as they continued down the corridor.

It shouldn’t have bothered him much, but fat? Surely he hadn’t put on that much weight, enough to be fat.

He glared at the half-eaten biscuit in his hands. It was the last one, and he shoved it into his mouth with a scowl, feeling crankier than he had in weeks.


He flooed to Malfoy Manor after his last class. Draco wouldn’t be home for another half hour or so, maybe longer. Harry greeted the house elves, and was dismayed but unsurprised as they offered him an entire treacle tart. He declined, thanking them but saying he wasn’t hungry at the moment, and scurried out of the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to see their confused and disappointed faces.

He went upstairs to Draco’s bedroom. It felt more like their bedroom now. Harry had his own wardrobe filled with whatever kind of clothes he’d need. Sometimes he didn’t go to his flat at all for a few days in a row.

He stripped out of his robes and put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The sweatpants were annoyingly snug around his thighs and backside, but he had picked a newer t-shirt that he knew would be plenty large on him, and felt comfort at the way it skimmed over his belly instead of clinging to it. He flopped onto Draco’s bed, laying on Draco’s side so he could breathe deeply into his pillow and be comforted by the scent of the other man.

One of his hands made its way down to his belly, pawing at the excess chub. Dammit, was he actually fat? He hadn’t thought he was big enough yet for people to be calling him fat. Madame Flywinde hadn’t even disagreed, even if she still defended him.

Harry remembered seeing a scale in Draco’s bathroom. He didn’t have one in his own flat, he wasn’t vain enough to really care. Or so he thought.

With morbid curiosity, he made his way to Draco’s luxurious bathroom and eyed Draco’s scale, one of the only muggle inventions in the room.

He caught a glimpse of his own reflection. It wasn’t something he spent a lot of time looking at, and it had certainly been a while since he took a good look. Now, as he pulled up his shirt to get a better look, he couldn’t help but cringe.

His belly had widened and grown heavier at the bottom, the skin under his belly button swollen, round and soft. It was where he was jiggliest, and Draco could spend as long as Harry would let him nuzzling and pressing kisses into the fat there. He had stretch marks now across that fat curve, the small lines letting him know exactly where he was getting the fattest the fastest. He knew that when he sat, his belly divided into two seperate rolls, that lower and chubbier roll, and the roll underneath his softening chest that Draco liked to nip at. The lower roll of his belly fed into the chubby rolls of his sides, like a ring of excess fat encasing his abdomen. His chest, too, was turning into pert little breasts that wobbled with the rest of his torso. His arms had lost whatever definition they had acquired during his time at the Aurors, and now soft flesh encased his biceps, making him look bulkier than he realized. He didn’t have to take off his pants to see how the weight settled along his lower body, his sweats were tight enough to show how his thighs and arse had widened, and he could feel the difference when he was sitting in a chair. Even his face was getting fat, cheeks rounding out and a little pouch of fat forming under his chin. He put his shirt down with a grimace.

With a deep breath he stood on the scale and peered down, noting with a scowl that it gave him an unfortunate view of his belly. Looking past that, he saw the scale’s verdict: 15 stone 8 pounds.

Harry felt his heart thud against his chest. That much?

He gaped at the number for a few moments before he heard a gentle voice behind him, “You alright in there?”

“Draco! it 6 already?” Harry said feebly, stepping off the scale quickly, as if he could hide what he had been doing.

Draco stood leaning against the doorframe, looking impossibly handsome and lean as always. Now hyper aware of his own appearance, he couldn’t help but feel like a slob in comparison. “It is, nearly 6:15 actually. The elves told me you declined a tart. I thought maybe you were ill, but it looks like maybe it’s something else,” Draco said, taking a step forward into the bathroom.

Harry fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Draco hadn’t done a thing to make Harry think he didn’t adore him as he was, but right now he couldn’t help but feel unattractive.

Draco, now standing in front of Harry, hesitated. Emotional conversations still made Draco a little uncomfortable, and he wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings. But he was improving, and moments like this, where his brow was furrowed as he tried to decide what to say next, showed Harry that he was trying. Despite the circumstance, Harry felt a surge of affection.

Saving Draco from whatever was going on inside that pretty head of his, Harry broke the silence and said, “It’s fine, really. I’m fine. I just, um, didn’t quite realize how much weight I had put on. It’s more than I thought. But I’m fine, really.”

Draco pursed his lips, “You don’t look fine. You look upset. What happened?”

“Nothing. I just realized-”

Draco shook his head, not buying it. “This morning you ate a whole plateful of fruit pastries before you left for work. Now you’re refusing tarts and hiding in the loo,” Draco reached out to hold Harry’s cheeks in his palms, maintaining eye contact. Harry met Draco’s steely grey eyes and Draco asked again, “What happened?”

Harry sighed and admitted, “I just...overheard a conversation.”

Draco waited for him to continue but when he didn’t, he said, “’re something of a celebrity, you know. People are going to talk. About us, about your body. We’ve both seen what the Prophet has printed.” It was true, there was more than just one article about his expanding waistline.

“That’s different. They exaggerate stuff to sell papers, everyone knows that. Trying to come up with things they think people will find interesting. It’s just drivel in there. It’s different when it’s two my coworkers talking about me getting fat,” Harry said, hearing the hurt in his own voice. Draco lowered his hands from Harry’s face and clenched them into fists at his sides. Harry looked back up to Draco’s face.

He looked livid. Harry had seen that look before, but not for years. His eyes were stormy and a familiar but menacing scowl crossed his face.

“Who was it, then? What specifically did they say?”

Seeing Draco like this immediately brought him back to their shared time at Hogwarts. Draco had been an absolutely insufferable prat, but even then Harry found himself a little breathless when Draco got so worked up. He wasn’t allowed to show much emotion when he was a child, but anger was always allowed per Lucius. It was the only emotion that ever seemed to come naturally to him back then, so there was something raw and honest about it. Especially now, that it was in defense of him. In a weird way, Draco being so defensive made Harry feel significantly better.

“It doesn’t matter-”

“The hell it doesn’t. Two grown adults, your colleagues no less, gossiping about your weight in the halls of an educational institution? I’ve got half a mind-”

Draco,” Harry said, pulling one of his clenched fists into his hand, making him unclench it so he could twine their fingers together before continuing, “It wasn’t as bad as whatever your imagining. It wasn’t mean spirited or anything, I just...hadn’t really thought of myself as being actually fat, you know? But they’re not wrong...I kind of am.”

“You are not. Just a bit plump is all. And still, that’s incredibly unprofessional. You have every right to be upset, Harry. Some people need to learn how to keep their big, stupid mouths shut,” Draco said, eyes still steely and angry.

“Wait till my father hears about this,” Harry mocked in a high voice with a small, disarming smile.

Draco finally deflated a bit, edges of his mouth turning up and eyes softening, “Very funny.” He stepped closer and opened his arms, and Harry gladly fell into them, letting his head rest on top of Draco’s shoulder, and aware of how his soft belly mushed against Draco’s torso.

“I am definitely a bit fat, though,” Harry said into Draco’s shoulder.

Draco huffed a sound in disagreement, but didn’t say anything else.

“I’m over 15 stone, Draco.”

“Well, sure, I figured that much.”

“You- what?! Really?” Harry said, surprised, pulling back from their hug to look at Draco.

Draco shrugged, “I, ah. I’ve got a keen eye for that sort of thing, I suppose.”

Harry grinned mischievously, “You would, wouldn’t you. Go on, then. Take a guess.”

“Oh, I like this game,” Draco said, returning his grin and stepping back to look at Harry appraisingly.

His eyes raked over Harry from head to toe, then he reached a hand out to rub at his clothed belly, trying to get a feel for the heft of it. Despite everything, Harry felt his breath and pulse quicken.

“Hm. Maybe 15 stone...5 pounds?”

“Wow, you are good at this. Try 15 stone 8. Are you still going to try and convince me that I’m not fat?”

Draco’s eyes darkened with arousal, and he opened his mouth, then closed it again, before saying, “Well, you have certainly gotten chubby. I’m not lying to you for vanity or to make you feel better, you know. I just wouldn’t call being a bit over 15 and a half stone ‘fat’.”

Harry laughed, “What’ll it take then, for you to admit I’m getting fat?”

“Oh, darling, you are most certainly getting fat. You’re just not there yet,” Draco purred, wrapping his arms around Harry again and pressing kisses to his softening jaw. Harry’s breath hitched and he tilted his head back to give Draco better access.

“What’s fat then? 16 stone? 20 stone?” Harry said breathily, squirming eagerly in Draco’s embrace.

Draco groaned, moving up to kiss Harry’s mouth. He did that for a while before answering, “18 at least.”

“Jesus, Draco, 18 stone? I’d be huge,” Harry said, feeling the growing tent in his pants. His body already felt so big sometimes, but 18 stone sounded huge. Harry wasn’t used to taking up so much space. He could imagine the way his belly would swell further and sag over his waistband, the way his thighs would spread when he sat, because they had already begun to, and if he added over two more stone, he’d imagine chairs would begin to be a tight fit. He could imagine more stretch marks popping up over his sides and belly. Sometimes he felt clumsy at this weight, bumping into things with his plump tummy and chubby hips, underestimating his new size. It would only escalate if he kept stuffing his face at every opportunity.

Harry was kissing Draco with vigor, when Draco pulled back and gave Harry that furrowed brow look that usually meant ‘I’m trying to be thoughtful’.

“You know, don’t have to keep this up just for me, Harry, I can even help you lose weight if you’d be more comfortable. I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay like this or put on more just because I, uh, like it. I liked you all gangly, too.”

Harry snorted, “Gee, thanks.”

Draco frowned delicately and said, “Ugh, I mean it, though. I don’t want you to be unhappy. Sometimes you do this ‘boy who lived’ thing where you put everyone else over yourself and what you want. I don’t want this to be something you think you have to do for me and sacrifice your own happiness.”

Harry felt a smile tug on the corner of his lips as the tent in his pants began to die down. It sounded like Draco had already given this a lot thought, which was impossibly sweet. Harry felt warm all over. He felt loved.

“We could go for jogs?” Draco continued, “Or I could put you on a diet or something, tell the house elves to stop feeding you so much. Just say the word.”

Harry was struck with the mental image of himself sneaking snacks from Draco’s pantry, only to have Draco come around the corner and tease Harry for being such a glutton, giving him a poke to his ample belly and saying that he was supposed to be on a diet. The idea shouldn’t have been as dirty and hot as it was. Harry swallowed thickly, and felt his dick twitch in attention once again.


Draco must’ve caught on to the look in Harry’s eyes and he raised an eyebrow and grinned devilishly, “It’s also perfectly fine if you don’t want to do any of those things, love.”

Harry’s belly released a timely grumble and he flushed, which only widened Draco’s grin.

“Or maybe the truth is your appetite has grown too much for you to deny, hm? Come downstairs, my chubby, spoiled darling, I believe the elves should just about have dinner prepared. And I understand that there may be a treacle tart for dessert, if you’re up to it.”

Chapter Text

“Easy there, love. I think you’re carrying a few extra these days,” Draco said, setting his newspaper aside to focus on where Harry had just flopped heavily onto his lap. His hands rested on Harry’s thick thighs where they straddled Draco’s own, massaging them and shamelessly enjoying how plump they were becoming.

“I am not. Oh, that feels nice, Draco,” Harry purred, scooching up in Draco’s lap. Draco reached around to rub at Harry’s hips. A stretch mark or two had popped up there lately, and even though Harry was clad in sweatpants, Draco still swiped his thumbs meaningfully over the exact spots, showing his masterful knowledge of Harry’s body.

Harry relaxed happily into his touch, letting Draco put his hands wherever he wanted. Harry loved this, when Draco would take some time to just explore and feel Harry’s body. It was changing all the time, new pounds settling wherever they may, so every so often Draco would take some time to reacquaint himself and find exactly where new weight ended up.

Sometimes Harry himself didn’t notice when a part of him was chubbier than before, and it wasn’t until times like now, as Draco’s hands moved further back to cup Harry’s arse to massage the cheeks tenderly, that Harry would realize, Ooh, it does feel like there’s more there than usual.

Draco seemed to be having the same thought, as he bit his lip and stifled a groan.

Draco moved his hands forward and slipped them under the hem of Harry’s jumper. It was late October, and Malfoy Manor was usually a little cold anyways, and even after putting on a significant amount of weight, Harry still got cold easily.

Draco put his hands across Harry’s lower belly, where he was the flabbiest, and gave Harry’s belly a purposeful shake. Even through his jumper, it wobbled in response. Harry could even feel the accumulation of fat around his nipples jiggle responsively.

Draco tsked and said, “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve gone ahead and plumped up some more. You’ve really got such a sweet tooth.”

Harry squirmed. He knew his body type was a result of his diet too; he liked all food, but did have an unfortunate proclivity towards sweets. Instead of having a rounder, firmer gut, his belly was endlessly soft, wobbly and pliant, shaped like an over inflated water balloon. He had even begun to develop a bit of cellulite along his upper thighs.

“You shouldn’t give me so many sweets, then. I can’t help it,” Harry deflected, but it was all part of the game. Harry didn’t really want Draco to stop spoiling him, which Draco knew full well.

Draco rolled his eyes, moving a hand up to cup one of Harry’s pert little breasts and running a thumb over his nipple, making Harry gasp.

“I suppose I’m entirely to blame, then? Your endless appetite and nonexistent willpower have nothing to do with it?” Draco said.

Harry didn’t answer Draco’s question, instead squirming and making a quiet little whine that he knew Draco loved. As expected, Draco looked hungry before pulling Harry down to crash their lips together.

Between Draco’s dirty talk and prying hands, Harry nearly forgot why he approached him in the first place. He had a question that needed to be asked.

They kissed for a while, Draco’s hands still mindlessly exploring the expanse of pudge beneath his fingertips before Harry pulled away and said, “I, uh, wanted to ask you something.”

Draco looked just a bit miffed, “Now?” He gave Harry’s love handles a pleading squeeze.

Ignoring him, Harry asked, “Will you come to Christmas with me this year?”

Draco’s hands froze and he looked surprised, before his expression dissolved into one of annoyance. He sighed and let his hands fall from Harry’s sides onto the couch.

Harry fought the urge to be similarly irritated. He promised himself he wouldn’t let this turn into a fight.

“It would mean a lot to me,” Harry said, trying to meet Draco’s eyes, but the blond was looking anywhere else.

“So I am going to Weasley Family Christmases, then?”

Harry wasn’t above begging, “Please? Ginny and Duncan will be there and I’ll feel awkward.”

“They were there when you went alone last year.”

Yeah, and it was awkward,” Harry said. Draco hadn’t wanted to go the prior year and they hadn’t been dating too terribly long so Harry didn’t press it. But he really wanted Draco there. He didn’t ask much from Draco in the ways of associating with Harry’s friends, but it was for bloody Christmas. Harry, selfishly or not, wanted everyone he loved around. Which very much included Draco. Even more, when Harry had returned from Christmas the year before, Draco had been unusually distant and snippy. Harry suspected that, whether Draco even realized it or not, he was feeling lonely from being mostly alone during the holidays. It broke Harry’s heart to think about. Even if he didn’t want to go, Harry firmly believed it would make him feel better than he would otherwise.

Draco didn’t say anything, keeping his steely eyes fixed on something behind Harry, expression unreadable. Harry hated that, the cold, emotionless stare he’d get when something made him feel vulnerable and insecure. Just another way of masking his feelings.

Harry leaned in to rest his head in the crook of Draco’s neck. Draco felt stiff under him, but he still raised a hand to rest on Harry’s lower back, which seemed like a good sign.

“Besides, Molly always makes an absolute feast. Do you really want to miss me making a pig of myself on Christmas?”

Draco scoffed and said, “Bribing me, are you?”

“Is it working?”

Draco released another sigh, this one louder and more dramatic. He brought his other hand around Harry and pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head where it was still resting on his shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll bloody go.”

Harry lifted his head to beam at him, “Really?”

“On one condition,” Draco said, grey eyes glittering with mischief. Harry gulped.

“You’ll have to eat everything I tell you to, and I want to weigh you when we get back.”

Harry grinned. That’s all? He could do that. Hell, he usually ate whatever Draco told him to.

“Deal,” he said easily, which only widened Draco’s smile.

“Really? I won’t take it easy on you, love. I don’t want any moaning about, ‘ooh my stomach hurts, I’m too full’.”

“Well, I can’t let you stuff me till I pop, can I? You’ll exercise reason, I hope?”

“You’re only allowed to disobey if you feel like you really might get ill. Can’t have that, of course. Otherwise, you’ll just have to suck it up.”

“Oh, you’re ruthless,” Harry said, still grinning. That all sounded fine by him. He already was planning to eat quite a bit, so this seemed more than fair. A bargain, really.

“I’m planning to be. I want to see what this is really capable of,” Draco said, returning Harry’s smile and placing his hands back on Harry’s belly where it pooched and hug over his black leggings, giving it a squeeze.

“It looks like you’ll get your wish,” Harry said.


Draco examined his reflection in the mirror. He felt a little weird going to any sort of event in anything but wizarding robes, but Harry assured him that was too formal and no one wore robes to Christmas. They wore sweaters, and jeans, amongst other horrible muggle clothes. Even if he was being forced to go the Weasley abode (they call it the Burrow, forchristsake), he’d be damned if he didn’t at least look impeccable as usual. He had his hair pushed back stylishly. His trousers were sleek, tan, and well-tailored. His shoes were Italian leather (obviously), and he wore a white Oxford button down (with the top button left undone to exemplify the ‘casual’ atmosphere, ugh) beneath a knitted olive green sweater.

For all their faults, he had to admit that he appreciated the way muggle clothes emphasized his build instead of hiding it like robes did. His shoulders looked broad and strong, and you could tell he had a good amount of musculature in his arms as well.

Harry walked into Draco’s bedroom with a few biscuits in his hand, saw Draco standing in front of the full length mirror and blatantly gaped.

Draco knew he looked great, but was never one to turn down a good compliment, so he said, “See something you like?”

“You look incredible, Draco,” Harry said, green eyes glittering with excitement and roaming his figure hungrily. He lifted a biscuit to his mouth and took a bite.

“It’s not too, you know...Slytherin? I’ve only just now realized I own an unfortunate amount of green,” Draco said with a humorless laugh.

Harry’s eyes softened and he shook his head, “Green looks nice on you.”

“I agree,” Draco said, turning away from the mirror. He eyed the biscuits in Harry’s hand with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s only a few. Krunchy would’ve been disappointed. It’s like an appetizer.”

Draco eyed his full figure, “I just don’t want you to spoil your appetite. You’ve got a lot of food ahead of you.”

Harry waved a dismissive hand at him and began rifling through his wardrobe, feeding himself biscuits as he looked at his options for the day. There was something painfully domestic about it. Draco wondered, not for the first time, if he should ask Harry to move in with him. They were so infrequently apart that it was just silly to have two seperate abodes.

They had plenty of time before they had to floo over, so Draco sat comfortably on his bed against the pillows to read his book while Harry got dressed. But when Harry began putting on a pair of jeans, or rather trying to, Draco’s attention left his book immediately.

He had stripped down to only his boxer briefs, which was a lovely sight as ever. He was currently trying to tug the stubborn denim over his increasingly plump behind. With every sharp tug he gave, his fatty middle wobbled in response. It was a ridiculously enticing sight, and Draco felt his heart rate quicken.

Harry wiggled and grumbled with dissatisfaction, but managed to get the pants over his arse. He looked at the button distrustfully and began reaching for his wand, probably to cast the oft-used engorgio.

“Wait,” Draco said, and Harry looked over, surprised, as if he really thought Draco would still be reading his book after all that. Draco beckoned him closer with a slender finger, and moved to sit at the edge of the bed, allowing room for Harry to stand between his knees.

“Don’t engorgio these, not yet at least. Wear them as they are,” Draco said, peppering kisses along the little cleft in Harry’s lower belly, delighting in the softness under his lips.

Harry snorted, “That wasn’t part of the deal. Besides, I don’t think I can button them.”

“Nonsense, love, you haven’t even tried yet.”

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, acting put out, before inhaling sharply and tugging the sides together.

They were undeniably too small, but Harry was still able to get them buttoned on his second try, despite his whining. He had very little tolerance for uncomfortably tight or ill fitting clothes, because he never actually had to wear them. A simple engorgio charm or a trip to Diagon Alley would be the end of it.

But, fucking hell, did he look delicious. Harry pulled up the fly as well, and was already grumbling irritably and plucking at the waistband, trying to find any extra space in the tight denim. The jeans encased his thick thighs like sausages, and Draco could actually see through the denim how they wobbled just a bit as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. The waistband mercilessly sliced into his chubby hips, and Draco reached out to run his hand over the skin comfortingly.

Harry stilled under Draco’s touch, and looked down at Draco with a pout that emphasized his softened jawline and plump little double chin.

“You look incredible,” Draco breathed, and Harry only rolled his eyes again, but a small smile spread across his lips, as well.

“I look fat,” Harry complained.

“I wouldn’t blame that on the jeans, dear.”

Harry gaped at him, but he was on the brink of grinning and there was a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes.

“How old are these, anyway?” Draco asked as he tried to wiggle a finger into Harry’s waistband, making him writhe under his hands again.

“I think I got these, ah, two months ago? No, I think three?” Harry admitted, flushing.

Draco tsked, “Only took you three months to completely outgrow these? That appetite of yours is getting out of control, love.”

“It is not,” Harry said, leaning into Draco’s touch as he began gently tracing his fingertips over the stretch marks over Harry’s love handles.

“It really is. I told you to eat light this morning, but I’m doubtful you did. Go on, tell me all you’ve eaten today,” Draco said. He had gone out that morning to visit Pansy for a Christmas breakfast, and it had him in a good mood.

“Just the few biscuits, is all,” Harry blatantly lied. His cheeks were tinged pink and his eyes were wide and innocent.

Draco raised an incredulous eyebrow, but when Harry didn’t say anything, Draco delivered an open handed smack to the side of Harry’s gut. It was gentle as anything, but Harry squeaked in surprise all the same, and Draco was treated to the way Harry’s thick belly wobbled in response.

“The elves made a quiche. Broccoli and parmesan, they know that’s my favorite.”

“Oh, so it’s their fault then? How much of it did you eat?”


“The whole thing?”

Harry whined, “It wasn’t that big! They made it just for me so it was, y’know, like a personal size.”

“Mhm, yes, I’m sure it was quite petite. After all, the elves know what a delicate appetite you have. Go on, you greedy thing, what else,” Draco said, letting his hands poke and prod Harry’s overfed body teasingly.

“Just a few biscuits.”

A rough pinch to the chubby roll under Harry’s chest, making Harry squirm. “Be honest, now,” Draco warned.

“Ugh, well...I was having some tea and some of the lemon poppyseed biscuits Krunchy made when they brought me the quiche. So I ate that, and then Rambly said she had fried some potatoes, too, so I had that as well, because she would’ve been so sad, so really I had to. Then, um, I’ve just been snacking on a few more of the poppyseed biscuits,” Harry paused before admitting, “I finished the whole tray of them, though. The ones I brought up here were the last,” he said, chewing his lip.

“Christ, Harry, it’s only one in the afternoon. You’re absolutely insatiable, aren’t you? It’s no wonder you’ve gotten this big. You’re only going to get bigger if you keep eating like this. And don’t think that means I’m going to go easy on you today. It just means your day got that much harder because you couldn’t show even the slightest restraint,” Draco said. His words were harsh, but he couldn’t manage to put any bite in them. They were spoken gently, matched with reverent caresses to all the bumps and bulges of Harry’s body. Draco ran his fingers along the underside of Harry’s belly, greatly enjoying how it was large enough that it obscured the button of his jeans.

Harry looked decidedly embarrassed, face flushed and chewing his lip, but there was obvious interest growing inside his pants and a glimmer in his eyes that begged for more. Greedy.

“I’ll still be hungry,” Harry said, pawing at his own stomach. God, he looked huge, but also precious, his chubby hand feeling the swells of his own belly. Draco felt light headed. He could hardly wait to weigh Harry that evening.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, you tubby thing,” Draco said, squishing a handful of Harry’s belly and enjoying how the fat folded in on itself gently, while pushing out into his hands. It was heavenly. Harry was heavenly.

Harry huffed and squirmed, quietly pleased with all the attention, under Draco’s hands. As much as he’d like to keep going, they had somewhere to be. Draco gave Harry’s belly a few affectionate pats and a kiss in the middle and said, “Finish getting ready.”

Harry did so, not without moaning a few more times about the state of his pants. He eventually gave up when he realized that there would be no talking Draco out of it. He had decided on a big grey jumper that fit him well. It was either new, or Harry used a sneaky engorgio before Draco could see.

Draco, who had returned to his book, set it down on the bedside table once Harry emerged from the bathroom fully dressed. “Ready, love?” he asked.

Harry nodded, but came over to the bed and climbed up into the bed to straddle Draco’s lap. Draco released an overdramatic, “Oof,” when Harry sat across his lap, followed by a grin and allowing his hands to move to Harry’s hips.

Harry leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Draco’s mouth, then pulling away but continuing to press kisses into Draco’s cheeks and against his forehead.

Draco chuckled and let Harry pepper his kisses wherever he may, and allowed himself to enjoy the attention. It used to make him feel awkward, and still, he usually preferred to be the one giving this sort of attention rather than receiving it. Physical affection wasn’t something he had received a lot of in his life, and learning to accept it had been a challenge.

Harry finally pulled away, and brought a hand to Draco’s cheek and said, “Don’t be nervous, okay?”

Draco’s response was immediate, “I’m not nervous.” A lie. An absolute lie. He was extremely nervous. He’d encountered Harry’s friends a few times and was getting better around them. For whatever reason, Luna in particular had been completely unbothered by him and, bizarre as she was, at least she always had something to say to fill silences. Neville had been less forgiving, which was justified, but somehow even he had come around, at least a little. If there was one person with even more reason to hate Draco than Harry, it was probably Neville. But only Ron and Hermione were going to be there, along with their kids and all the other Weasley siblings and their children, other miscellaneous Weasley aunts and uncles, and of course, Teddy Lupin, Harry’s godson, who was fortunate enough to come after all of Draco’s mistakes. Even though he was generally aware of Draco’s past, even if it was more of an outline rather than details, he was still full of enough childlike innocence that he seemed to like Draco quite a bit despite everything else. He spent some odd weekends at Harry’s place sometimes, and while Draco was hesitant to spend time with the pair initially, he found he quite enjoyed it.

Mostly, he was afraid of Arthur and Molly. Mostly Molly, if the truth be told.

Harry was obviously unconvinced and only smiled softly at him, “It’s okay to be nervous, Draco. Molly actually said she was excited to see you again after all these years when I told her you’d be coming.”

Bloody hell. Probably excited to splatter him all over the walls like his dear Aunty Bellatrix.

Harry frowned when Draco didn’t answer, so Draco took one of Harry’s hands and kissed his knuckles.

“I’m fine. Really. Let’s just get going?” Draco’s voice trailed off hopefully, giving away his own anxiety.

“You look pale,” Harry said.

“Extremely. I’m quite fair.”

“Draco,” Harry said admonishingly.

It was one of these, then. When Harry knew something was wrong and wouldn’t stop prying his little Gryffindor nose in, Draco was left with two options: either talk about his feelings, or start a fight.

Tempting as ever was the idea of starting a fight. Turning his feelings of anxiety into anger was second nature, and would effectively make sure his actual fears stayed hidden.

But with Harry perched on his lap, looking so genuinely concerned for Draco, he found what he wanted far more was to confide in Harry.

“How can they not hate me?” he said, “How will they look at me and not see their dead son? Or Professor Lupin, or Sirius Black, or bloody Dumbledore-”

“Okay, shh,” Harry cajoled by leaning in to pull Draco into a hug. Draco gladly accepted and refused to let the tears prickling his eyes fall.

“They trust me. That’s how. They know how much I love you, really, when you’re not there, I talk about you probably far more than they’re interested in. I’m like a son to them, Draco, and they see how happy you make me. They’re willing to give you a chance. Shouldn’t you at least do the same?”

Draco sniffed delicately, “I can practically see you prattling on about your ex-death eater boyfriend in the Weasley kitchen. Haven’t those people been through enough?” he joked.

Harry snorted and pulled back, rolling his eyes, “I think Molly nearly said the same thing when I first told them about us, but she came around when I started putting on some of this,” Harry said, patting his ample belly, “I think she’s jealous that you’ve managed to feed me up so efficiently.”

“This is about the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Draco said, getting a handful of Harry’s gut, lifting it, then dropping it and watching it jiggle through his jumper.

“Ha ha, very funny.”


The Burrow was exactly how Draco had imagined it.

They arrived just a bit late, Harry stepping confidently out of the fireplace first, and the living room before them echoed happy choruses of ‘Harry!’

Molly was present instantly, pulling Harry into a tight hug. She said some pleasantries and released him, focusing on Draco. He was floored when she gave him a small, knowing smile, and pulled him into a hug as well, albeit less bone crushing than Harry’s was, and Molly said, “Welcome to the Burrow, dear.”

He figured all the children would be his saving grace. With Bill, Percy, George and Ron’s kids, plus Teddy as well, too many kids around meant no really serious conversations would be had. At least hopefully.

After following Harry to deliver some awkward hellos, Draco was surprised to find an amiable conversationalist in Bill’s wife, Fleur. He had sat near her to ask Teddy, who had been there at the time, how his third year of Hogwarts was going. He didn’t get much of an answer before Victoire came around and the two of them ran off giggling.

He had no prior interactions with her from the time she spent at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, and Draco only knew that, at the time, he had respected her for her posh and ladylike upbringing.

She was cooing French nursery rhymes to her youngest, Louis, to try and stop the six-month-old from squirming and whining. The boy seemed overtired, but was unlikely to find a better spot to nap in the loud Burrow than tucked in his mother’s arms. Still, he was dissatisfied, and remained on the brink of crying.

She hummed the tune of Frere Jacques, and when that didn’t appease the boy, she muttered to the same tune, “Petit Louis, petit Louis, fais dodo, fais dodo.

Draco couldn’t help chuckling a little out loud at her plea for the infant to fall asleep, and Fleur looked up at him questioningly.

He responded in French, “Sorry. He just seems very uninterested in naptime.”

She looked annoyed at the situation, but thrilled with the opportunity to complain to someone about it. She responded back in whirlwind French that Draco had to pay close attention to make sure he understood. It had been a while since he had spoken any.

“Ugh, he’s a delight until you need him to do something, then he just whines and squirms and complains! My girls napped wonderfully, like little angels, but try to put this one to sleep and he acts like you’re skinning him.”

They chatted like that for a while, during which, Louis thankfully fell asleep. Bill send a few curious glances their way, smiling politely and a bit awkwardly whenever he caught Draco’s eye, and Draco concurred he didn’t know any French, particularly when Fleur began complaining loudly about Hogwarts.

Our Victoire is there now, you know, in her second year. They won’t let her take Occlumency until her fifth! Can you believe it? How does anyone pass their OWLs? We could take it first year at Beauxbatons if we wanted. Sure, it was dangerous, but we weren’t coddled.”

Harry, who had been god knows where, returned to see Fleur and Draco becoming fast friends and raised his eyebrows in shock.

“I didn’t know you spoke French,” he said dumbly, which elicited a few chuckles from the Weasley family members who were around and paying attention.

“We used to have a second home in France, I spent a lot of time there when I was young.” Draco paused for a moment pensively and said, “I suppose we still might have it, actually.”

“To be so wealthy you forget about your second home,” Ginny’s boyfriend, Duncan, joked and well-meaning laughs filled the room. Draco felt a smile tug on the corner of his lips as he huffed a laugh as well, despite the quiet distaste he suspected he’d always have for Ginny and Duncan.

“Ooh, where in France?” Fleur asked in English.

“Southern France, Montpellier.”

She beamed, “I ‘ave family in Marseille, we visit zem a few times every year. It’s not so far, maybe if you and ‘Arry are ever zere we can get togezher.”

Bill had been pulled into another conversation, so however he would feel about his wife’s offer was unknown.

Harry had come to sit next to Draco and he couldn’t help but notice how much the couch dipped with his weight as he said, “I’ve never been to France.”

Draco smiled at him, “Then perhaps we should plan a trip.”

Fleur made an pleased sound, and her and Harry began chit chatting. Shortly after they began conversing, Draco felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Molly and felt his heart rate quicken instantly.

“Help me in the kitchen, dear?”

Draco wordlessly nodded and stood. Harry gave him a reassuring smile and continued his conversation with Fleur. Draco couldn’t help but feeling like he was being thrown to sharks. This was as close to meeting Harry’s parents as he would get.

Draco had hoped and assumed that the kitchen would be similarly filled with people like the rest of the house was, but apparently there was a rule about being in Molly’s kitchen on Christmas without her explicit permission. They were all but completely alone.

Draco stood awkwardly, feeling like an 11-year-old boy again. Molly had charmed knives to cut the vegetables, spoons to stir all the dishes on the stovetop, and there was a ball of dough on the counter kneading itself. Everything looked well handled, which made Draco wonder even more what he was doing here.

“I thought it may be good to clear the air,” she said softly so they weren’t overheard.

Draco swallowed and nodded.

“We care a great deal for Harry in this house. We’ve watched out for him as long as we’ve known him. But he’s an adult now, and can make his own decisions.”

She paused to flick her wand at a spatula that began frosting a cake that had been cooling.

“I will admit that I was skeptical. About you. I know Malfoys, and I know Blacks, and I know how they can use and manipulate people. That Harry is a kind, loving boy and I feared that he was too eager to forgive you. Too eager to believe that anyone can change.

“But then,” she smiled somewhat sadly, “I was reminded of Percy. I’m sure you know all about that. I had to remind myself that anyone, especially children, can be misguided and led astray by empty promises and lies. So in short, I’m trusting Harry. And Harry trusts you.

“I also, ah, wanted to make sure there wasn’t any bad blood between us on your behalf,” she confessed, looking melancholy.

“How do you mean?” Draco asked, confused.

“Your Aunt Bellatrix, dear.”

“Oh,” Draco said, unsure how to respond. His aunt had been unhinged, there was no denying that. But they also had a relationship. She taught him Occlumency, after all. They had spent a good amount of time together. Her death had made him sad, but it hadn’t surprised him, and given all her actions and choices, he couldn’t even say that she hadn’t deserved her end.

Draco shook his head, “My Aunt made her own choices. Whether she met her end through you or someone else, it was only a matter of time. She was truly mad, especially at the end. I harbor no ill will towards you or anyone in your house, I swear it.”

Molly smiled and said, “I’m glad to hear that. And I must say, I’ve never seen Harry look so happy. I think he’s truly in love. It’s a beautiful thing, and he deserves it more than anyone.”

Draco said, “That’s one thing we can certainly agree on.”

She smiled bigger, and for the first time since speaking with him, it reached her eyes, “He certainly looks well taken care of, too.”

Draco couldn’t help grinning proudly back, “He does, doesn’t he?” He paused, before seeing an opportunity to further his own reward for attending this Christmas party. “He’s been feeling a little self-conscious, actually. He overheard some of his colleagues talking about his weight. I just hope he lets himself enjoy all the food you’ve made today instead of worrying.”

A blazing fire came into Molly’s eyes, the beautiful parental protectiveness that Draco was hoping for, “I’ll see to that, dear, don’t you worry.”

Then she paused, looking confused, then livid and there was a moment where Draco actually thought she might’ve changed her mind and decided to hex him, before she reached behind him and pulled something flesh colored from where it was hanging from the ceiling behind him.

Her shrill voice echoed through the Burrow as she yelled, “GEORGE! KIDS! Who’s extendable ear is this!?” she said, stomping back into the living room and waving the fleshy ear in her hand.

George began laughing heartily, and Teddy, Victoire and Fred, George and Angelina’s son, came around the corner, all looking bashful.

Draco peeked around the kitchen corner and George gestured towards him, “C’mon, mum, who wouldn’t want to overhear that conversation? Don’t be too upset with them.”

“Oh, I am upset with YOU. I explicitly forbade the use and distribution of these in my house!”

“But that was years ago!”

Jovial laughter filled the house at a scene that Draco figured was extremely familiar to everyone. Draco took his spot back next to Harry on the couch, and he subtly leaned into Draco and whispered, “You okay?”

Draco put a hand on Harry’s knee and said truthfully, “Yes. I am, love.”

It wasn’t long after that it was time to eat. In typical Weasley mismatched and haphazard fashion, there wasn’t one table big enough to fit everyone. So, tables of various sizes and shapes were pushed together to create one long table with a bulbous end, because one of the tables was circular. It was covered with festive tablecloths, but no one was big enough to cover the entire frankenstein table, and they didn’t seem to have multiple of the same, because Draco counted at least four completely different patterns. It looked absolutely hideous, and Draco was appalled that part of him also wanted to call it charming.

It was also apparently tradition that Molly come around and serve everyone their first portion. Multiple conversations were already being had at the table, so no one paid any mind when Molly got to Harry and placed noticeably more on his plate than she had with anyone else so far. Harry looked up at her curiously, but she ignored him, choosing to wink at Draco instead. Harry whipped his head to Draco, eyes accusing but playfully curious, and Draco hid his grin by taking a sip of wine, choosing to look at Harry with big, innocent eyes.

God help him, dinner was...pleasant. The Weasley family seemed to adjust to his presence, and Draco was feeling less awkward chiming in here or there. Depending on who was speaking, of course. Ron was still easily the most hesitant about Draco, choosing to glower jealously whenever he and Harry displayed any minor affections. It made Draco want to puff out his chest and be more flagrant with his affection to Harry just to annoy him, but Harry explicitly told Draco on multiple occasions ‘please do not antagonize Ron.’ Draco wondered if Ron got a similar speech.

Hermione was far better company, and one of Harry’s friends that was more willing to embrace Draco’s presence, which always confused him. She was someone he had treated particularly poorly, yet here she was, asking Draco what color he thought she should paint their living room, while Ron grumbled that it was fine the way it was.

“It is not Ronald, especially not after Rose went and drew all over the walls! It gives us a good excuse to spruce up the place.”

Ron sighed, looking resigned, “Well, I guess it’s nice that you two have come so far even after that one time Hermione socked you.”

An enthused, “What?” came from the other end of the table, where Teddy was leaning forward with interest, “Tell me the story!”

“You’re a nosy little thing today, aren’t you?” Harry reprimanded gently.

“Please??” he begged, drawing the attention of a few other children, who were now all looking their way curiously. Harry looked at him indulgently and looked back at Draco and Hermione.

Hermione was flushed and was smiling bashfully. Draco grimaced, but felt a small smile threatening to emerge at the memory.

“I deserved it,” Draco said.

“You really did,” Hermione agreed with a light giggle.

“I said some, ah, not so nice things about a professor at Hogwarts. And Hermione simply reminded me that that’s not very respectful or appropriate,” Draco said primly and took a sip of wine.

“I’m not sure those are the words she used,” Harry said, grinning cheekily.

“Is that all we get?!” Teddy said, clearly speaking for the rest of the children and few adults that were now invested in the story with playful smiles on their faces.

Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance and smiled as Teddy continued, “What professor? What did she really say?”

Draco glanced at Hermione teasingly and said, “I believe her words were more along the lines of, ‘you foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach’.”

Teddy gaped in shock as a roar of laughter erupted at the table. Hermione hid her face in her hands as she laughed, flushed.

Draco tapped a spot on his jaw as he continued, “Quite a right hook on this one. I was black and blue for days.”

He was glad for the opportunity to be playful about his past, even if it was at his expense a bit. Tension eased further out of the room.

“I can’t believe you remember exactly what I said to you,” Hermione said, still giggling.

“Oh, my feelings were so hurt! I could never forget,” Draco joked, kind of. From the laughs he received, no one picked up on the slight truth. His feelings had been hurt. But what he said was true, he had definitely deserved it.

“But what did you say? And about who?” Teddy pressed.

“About whom,” Draco corrected.

Teddy rolled his eyes and said, “So that’s a no?”

“It’s not worth repeating,” Draco confirmed, and Teddy sighed, but seemed okay by moving on and chatting up Victoire some more.

Meanwhile, Harry had been working through plate after plate without encouragement from Draco. Draco wasn’t sure if Harry realized just how closely Draco was watching him, just waiting for Harry to slow down or hesitate so Draco could prompt him to continue.

He was working valiantly on his own, for now, though. Molly did a number on him with his heaping servings of turkey, roast beef, dinner rolls, creamed spinach, and more. But he dutifully finished and helped himself to more. Draco saw Molly smile happily.

He slowed down after his third plateful. Draco inconspicuously leaned in and said, “Another roll, more turkey, dark meat and some bread sauce, and more mince pie.”

Harry flushed gently, spent a moment squirming in his seat and subtly toying with his waistband, trying to find more room for the swell of his belly. It was already looking rounder than usual, pushing up proudly against Harry’s jumper, a sure sign that Harry was already plenty full. Third helpings weren’t unusual for him at home, but that was usually where he stopped. But, he obediently put more on his plate.

Once he made his way through that, Draco allowed him a moment's respite and a few sips of wine before he asked more of Harry. He figured this would be his last plate of real food, because he wanted to make sure he had room for dessert, too. If he finished this, that would make five full plates. Definitely far more than he ate at home, that was for certain, especially after he had already had a full breakfast.

Draco ordered, “More roast beef, potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and maybe a few more sausages as well.”

Harry groaned almost imperceptibly quiet, but retrieved what was asked. Ron was sitting nearest to the potatoes, and when Harry asked for more, Ron couldn’t help but jest.

“Sure you’re not eating for two there, mate?” Even Draco could tell it was in good humor, coupled with Ron being more than generous scooping the potatoes onto Harry’s plate, and Harry only rolled his eyes in response.

But Molly, who was standing and cleaning some of the empty plates off the table to make more room, gave him a twack to the back of the head.

“It’s Christmas, Ron, let the boy eat,” she said harshly, walking back into the kitchen.

There were some chuckles as Ron rubbed the back of his head and muttered, “I was only joking, bloody hell, woman...”

Draco fought the pleased grin that threatened to spread across his face. That was an unexpected consequence of speaking to Molly, but welcome all the same. Some of Draco’s smugness must’ve shown through because Harry looked at him suspiciously.

But all the same, he began working on this plate as well. Draco couldn’t help but think he looked absolutely adorable this stuffed. Belly so full and round in front of him, straining his sweater and perched on the tops of his thighs. His cheeks were flushed pink, and every now and then he’d stop eating and take some deep breaths, as if he was in the middle of exercising. Sometimes he’d burp delicately and quietly into his hand, and whenever he did, his pace picked up for a while afterwards, only to slow down again.

Harry began struggling with his last few bites of beef and potatoes. He was aware of the room around him, surveying the guests to make sure their attention was elsewhere before allowing himself to look as uncomfortable as he must’ve felt.

His brow was knit and he pawed helplessly at his belly, trying to relieve the pressure. His hands moved down to his waistband and he said in a whisper to Draco, “I have to unbutton them.”

Draco kept his eyes fixed ahead, “Clean your plate. Then you can unbutton them.”

Harry released a quiet sigh in resolution, and put another bite in his mouth. Every bite was a struggle now, Draco could see. Draco would’ve loved to focus his full attention on Harry and had to fight the urge to glance his way every few seconds.

When Harry put the last bite into his mouth, he wasn’t even done chewing before his hands were slipping under his belly, doing a quick glance to make sure no one else was looking. Draco watched hungrily as he fumbled with the button pitifully for a few seconds before he managed to pop it open. His belly surged forward and Harry leaned back in his chair. The combination of the two revealed just a sliver of belly at the base of Harry’s jumper. Draco’s fingers absolutely itched to reach out and touch, but he forced his eyes away. He had already been staring far too long.

Harry didn’t get to enjoy a rest for very long before Molly walked out of the kitchen with more plates, announcing, “Christmas pudding!”

The table made happy, appreciative noises and drowned out the groan Harry released. Draco took advantage of everyone being distracted, and leaned over to swipe his thumb across the bit of Harry’s belly that was exposed.

Harry stiffened at the realization that a bit of belly was visible, so he forced himself into a more upright position and yanked his hem down.

Maybe Ron was onto something. Harry looked properly pregnant with his stomach stuffed so round.

Molly came around and placed a plate with a pretty looking individual Christmas pudding in front of everyone. They were topped with a red berry and a bit of powdered sugar.

Sweets weren’t something Draco was particularly fond of. They were absolutely not allowed in his house growing up, as Lucius insisted they were unnecessary indulgences that signified a weak will, and Narcissa was extremely concerned with image, and even the thought of Draco being a chubby child was absolutely unacceptable.

In fact, he hadn’t really had any sort of sweets until his time at Hogwarts, and when he tried some, he found them mostly nauseating. He figured maybe that was just another reason he loved spoiling Harry, particularly with sweets, so much.

To be frank, he didn’t even have much interest in trying the dessert before him, but stronger than his distaste for sweets was his inclination towards politeness.

He saw Harry watch him curiously as he raised a bite to his mouth. Harry had never asked why Draco never ate sweets, but he had obviously noticed that the elves never so much as offered him any sort of dessert, only Harry.

He put a bite in his mouth, preemptively bracing himself for inevitable disgust that never actually came. The pudding wasn’t actually that sweet. It was mostly fruity, but there was a nice blend of spices that dominated a lot of the flavor, and maybe even a bit of brandy?

It was actually delightful.

He glanced over at Harry, who was grinning back at him, and fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Draco surprised himself by finishing the pudding set before him. He was unsurprised to see that Harry had done the same, but it was maybe the very first time in their relationship that Draco had finished eating something before Harry. He visibly struggled, but managed to finish his serving.

“And we’ll do the Yule log in an hour or so,” Molly said jovially and dismissed everyone from the table. She began casting charms to carry the rest of the plates into the kitchen and to clean them.

Draco watched as Harry began to stand. He started by pushing his chair back, making sure his belly had plenty of room so he didn’t accidentally bump the table with it. He had done that a few times at home, still sometimes unaware of how big he was getting, and it never failed to fluster Draco. Draco admired the way the arms of the chair brushed against his wide hips as Harry put his hands on them and lifted himself up out of the chair, belly first. When he got to his feet, he immediately tugged his jeans up and pulled the hem of his jumper down, trying to make sure the unbuttoned jeans remained a secret. Draco wanted so badly to tease him, ‘Your belly already folds over your waistband, love, they couldn’t see the button if they tried.’

Draco was reminded that Harry had eaten substantially before coming to the Burrow today, too. Poor thing looked more stuffed than Draco had ever seen him. Now that he was on his feet, Draco followed him back into the living room, where Molly had brought out a kettle and was serving some tea. Harry walked slowly, taking deep breaths, before sitting heavily on the sofa, unable to help a little huff of relief that came out.

Draco sat next to him, his hands begging to reach out and rub Harry’s belly. He wanted to soothe the upset globe as much as he wanted to get a really good feel of Harry’s belly like this. He looked otherworldly, so beautiful.

Draco felt his face soften looking at him, and Harry looked up at him shyly, flushed. Draco looked away so he wouldn’t be staring too long. He made unfortunate eye contact with Ron and Hermione, who had been looking their way as well. Hermione looked supremely satisfied as well, her face open and accepting. Ron only scowled, but even he had a bit of curiosity in his eyes, like he really believed for the first time that Draco actually loved Harry.

Conversation was struck in the room again, and Draco was struggling to participated because Harry was being extraordinarily distracting. Stifling quiet burps and shifting restlessly, Draco was itching to just floo home now so he could tend to Harry’s obviously aching belly.

He didn’t have to wait long before the Yule log was brought out, coupled with Harry groaning quietly enough that only Draco, sitting next to him, could hear.

To Harry’s dismay, he was served a large slice of the log from Molly who only smiled pleasantly at him.

Draco needed to decline for himself when Molly offered him a slice. Just looking at the rich, chocolate swiss roll was making him feel ill.

“No, thank you, I’m already so full,” he said with a charming smile that used to get him out of quite a bit.

It wasn’t as effective against her, “Nonsense, dear, you’re so thin. A bit of overeating will do you good, it’s Christmas,” she said caringly, shoving the plate into his hands and walking away to continue serving everyone else. Draco looked at his plate in dismay and Harry snorted a quiet laugh.

Draco scowled at him, and Harry took a big bite of his own slice, eyes wide and innocent. We’ll see who’s laughing, Draco thought.

The tea and small break from eating seemed to help Harry, and he had a good pace with his slice, even if it was quite large. It still took him a while to finish, but when he put the last bite into his mouth, he sighed in relief and looked pleased.

Draco took his empty plate from him, and did a quick survey of the room to make sure no one’s eyes were on them, and swapped his own, completely untouched plate, into Harry’s hands. Harry’s eyes bulged, then turned pleading.

“Only if you feel you might be sick,” Draco reminded in a whisper, holding Harry’s empty plate in his own lap proudly.

Harry stuck his lip out stubbornly and began eating Draco’s slice. It was slow going, his previous speed completely diminished. Every bite seemed like a struggle. He was squirming uncomfortably, slowly consuming bite after bite. After a while, Harry valiantly finished Draco’s slice with a heavy sigh. He leaned back into the couch, belly looking impossibly round and bloated.

They didn’t stay long after that, both definitely eager to return to Malfoy Manor. After Harry had gingerly raised himself from the couch, they said goodbyes and headed to the fireplace.

Molly was there again, hugging Harry fiercely enough that Draco worried she’d make him sick. But Harry only looked warm and fuzzy when he pulled away from the hug, and then she turned her attention to Draco. She pulled him in for another hug as well, less awkward than the one he had received earlier that day.

“I hope we get to see more of you, dear,” she said, pulling back to give him a welcoming smile. Draco felt himself return it.

The moment they were back in the living room of Malfoy Manor, Harry groaned loudly and collapsed onto his back on the nearest sofa.

“Leave me here to die,” he moaned and Draco laughed.

“Come on, let’s get you out of these,” Draco said, walking over and pushing the hem of his jumper up.

“Oh, god, yes please,” Harry said, lifting his arms above his head, but otherwise not moving to help Draco.

Draco didn’t complain, though, not after how willing Harry was to stuff himself absolutely silly. “You did wonderfully tonight,” he praised him as he wrestled Harry’s jumper over his shoulders while trying to be as gentle as possible.

Harry made a sound in acknowledgement, followed by a groan of relief when Draco unzipped his jeans and began shimmying them off Harry’s hips.

“How the bloody hell did you get Molly feeding me up, too?” he griped once Draco had discarded his jeans.

“Resourcefulness. Cunning. Cleverness,” Draco said stoically, and Harry laughed.

“I suppose all that’s true, then. Ugh, you might just have to leave me here. I can’t make it up the stairs.”

“Don’t be daft, sure you can. But we can wait here for a minute,” Draco said, lifting Harry’s legs so he could sit, then reposition Harry so his legs were across Draco’s lap and he could rub at his belly. Harry groaned in discomfort, then mewled happily as Draco began gently massaging.

“Dirty talk to me in French,” Harry requested, looking up at Draco with curious and playful eyes.

Draco smiled, “Liked that, did you? T’es canon, toi,” Draco purred.

Harry smiled, “What’s that mean?”

“You’re hot.”

Harry laughed and Draco continued, “Je suis tombé amoureux.”

“And that one?”

“I fell in love.”

Harry’s eyes softened and he looked hopelessly happy, but still he protested, “That’s not dirty talk, you sap. Ugh, You really didn’t take it easy on me today,” Harry said, stifling a burp that Draco had dislodged.

“I told you I wasn’t going to.”

“I know. I’m glad you didn’t.”

Draco hummed and swiped his thumb meaningfully across the stretch marks at Harry’s side. “You look incredible,” he said, reaching one hand up to cup one of Harry’s plump little breasts.

Harry only smiled back at him, a hint of mischief in his eyes, and wiggled his hips at Draco from his reclined position, making his belly wobble just barely because of how stuffed he was.

Draco felt his dick give an uncomfortable twitch from inside his trousers. He had been half hard from the second he got Harry out of his clothes.

“Ugh, you tease,” Draco said, removing a hand from Harry’s gut to palm himself through his trousers.

“Nooo,” Harry whined at the loss of one of Draco’s hands. Draco rolled his eyes indulgently and placed it back on Harry’s belly, massaging dutifully. Harry hummed happily and closed his eyes.

“Once I get you into bed I’m going to have to take a shower,” Draco admitted. Today was too incredible and he’d been verging on arousal all day. He was growing desperate for release.

Harry pouted, “Well, I want to have fun, too.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “I suppose I was assuming you’d be too full and tired. You look awfully uncomfortable.”

Harry flushed, “You’ll have to be very gentle and do most of the work, but…”

“I do most of the work anyways, you lazy thing,” Draco teasingly admonished.

Harry whined, then gasped as Draco shifted from underneath Harry’s legs to being on top of him, supporting himself with his legs on either side of Harry’s thighs, and he leaned down to place open mouthed kisses into Harry’s bloated stomach. Then he moved down to Harry’s hips, where his jeans had dug into his sides painfully, leaving harsh red marks. He kissed those, too. Harry looked so wonderful, so enormous, and Draco felt himself grow harder when he remembered that Harry was only going to get bigger.

He sucked some marks into Harry’s belly and soft, supple thighs, before Harry began quivering beneath him.

“O-Okay Draco, I’m ready. We need to get upstairs now.”

Draco paused over Harry’s clothed dick where it was making a noticeable tent in his boxer briefs, close enough that Harry could certainly feel his warm breath through the thin material.

“Now?” Draco teased, ignoring the achingly hard member in favor of nosing the fat swell of Harry’s underbelly where it flopped over the waistband, still abundantly soft even with all Harry had eaten. It had already begun encroaching on Harry’s crotch, and Draco knew full well if he removed Harry’s briefs, his hard on would bump the swell.

Now, please.”

“Alright,” Draco acquiesced, climbing off of Harry. He watched as Harry pushed himself upright with an uncomfortable groan, then heaved himself to his feet.

“I have to admit Weasley was onto something. You do look like you’re eating for two.”

Harry rolled his eyes and slowly made his way to the stairs. He moved slowly, but Draco was very patient, especially because he got to walk behind Harry and enjoy the wobble of his arse and thighs in his tight briefs.

Harry made his way to the top, panting. There was no denying Harry was out of shape, especially compared to his Auror days, but usually he could manage the stairs with little difficulty. Draco was surprised at the rush of arousal that followed Harry being exhausted by something so simple.

Draco followed Harry to his own bedroom, but stopped Harry as he was about to lay on the bed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Draco said, inclining his head towards his bathroom.

If possible, Harry flushed deeper at the knowledge that he still had to be weighed. “Right,” he said, and followed Draco in.

Draco pulled his scale out and gave Harry an ‘after you’ gesture, which made Harry roll his eyes as he stepped on.

Both men waited eagerly as the scale revealed its verdict.

“18 stone 2 pounds,” Draco said aloud, marveling at the number.

“Am I properly fat then?” Harry asked with a smirk. Draco’s head was swimming with unadulterated arousal. He had to force himself to pause for a moment to make sure he didn’t detect any insecurity or unhappiness in Harry’s face, and when he didn’t, he returned Harry’s smile and said, “Afraid so, love. God, I can’t believe it. 18 bloody stone. You look beautiful.”

Harry rolled his eyes but looked pleased.

“Now will you please take me to bed?”

Draco grinned and said, “It would be my pleasure.”