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The Waiting Game

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Draco rested two hands on the swollen globe that passed for his belly, and sighed.

Really, if he hadn’t been well into his forty-first week of pregnancy he might well have laughed at the predicament he found himself in, but right at that exact moment Draco was failing to see the funny side. The utterly lazy Potter baby he carried had seemingly decided they were quite comfortable exactly where they were, and had moved into Draco’s uterus on a permanent basis.

“You’re just like your other dad,” he said, wriggling in a futile attempt to ease the knotted muscles in his lower back, “quite unable to think about my needs. Here I am, sacrificing my trim tum for varicose-bloody-veins, stretch marks in unmentionable places and almost constant trips to the loo, and you won’t even think about vacating. Honestly, I love you already, but its time to come out now. I promise there’s more space out here to squirm about.”

Draco wryly massaged the tight skin on the side of his belly. His baby had decided to reply to his words with a particularly forceful kick, showing him exactly what he thought of Draco’s idea.

It would seem that as well as having inherited Harry’s innate ability to sleep away a morning, their baby was going to be another one who always had to have the last word.

Draco addressed his bump once more, with a small smile. “At least with you, and Harry my life is never going to be boring. Or quiet. Now, baby, if you could hold out from kicking me for just two moments, I need to a cup of tea. Growing you is a thirsty business.”

Draco Accio’d his favourite Earl-Grey tea and a couple of jam-filled scones. He balanced the plate on his gigantic belly, and commenced scoffing, with not even a thought as to how appalling the pre-pregnancy Draco would have viewed his behaviour. He was well past the point of worrying what pre-pregnancy Draco might have thought about anything. That blithering idiot had been just about as green as grass with his vague ideas about gliding though pregnancy with only a cute little bump and a glow to show for it.

At just past forty-one weeks pregnant, Draco felt as big as a Hippogriff and was perhaps, just a little bit less attractive. He was firmly ensconced on the two-person settee, with his legs stretched out in front of him on the foot-rest.

As he carefully levitated his plate and mug onto the floor, a Braxton-Hicks contraction caught him unprepared, and the distinct twisting in his back and lower belly made Draco wince. He breathed as well as he could through the pain, counting down through the seconds like he and Harry had practised, but as the pain started to ebb away, his first thoughts were simple: I’m done.

Draco must have made more of a noise than he realised, because seconds later Pansy burst into the room, her eyes wide with panic. “Draco! I heard you crying out! Is it the baby? Do I need to get Harry, or-”

“Sadly, no,” Draco interrupted, inching his way along the seat so his best friend could sit down. “It was just another bloody practice contraction, same as the last three hundred or so I’ve had to suffer though. The Midwifery Healer says I’ll know the real thing when it arrives. And that wasn’t it”

Pansy took his hand, and Draco knew he must look a forlorn sight indeed.

Whenever Harry had to leave their home on Auror business, Pansy was Flooing over to look after him. Of course, Draco had moaned and griped about the idea, because- he was just pregnant! He didn’t need babysitting!- but having his best-friend at his beck and call did have a few advantages. For one thing, he knew he could say anything to Pansy and she wouldn’t care one jolt, and he was quite free to be as dramatic as he desired. He moved Pansy’s hand over to his belly and pressed it against the kicking, twisting baby.

“Feel that Pans! Its definitely time for this baby to make an appearance,” lamented Draco, his voice rising as he warmed to his subject. “My feet are the size of Bludgers and I’m reduced to wearing slippers like a sodding ninety-year-old because not one pair of my shoes fit! My back hasn’t stopped hurting in months and I can barely even walk any more. I’ve been up since four am, because whatever position I lay in, they find a way to lay on my bladder!”

Pansy didn’t reply, except to lean over and kiss Draco’s warm red cheek. She stood, placed another pillow behind his back and cast a cooling spell over his heated body. Draco immediately felt a little happier, and so did his baby.

“I’m going to get you another glass of that Raspberry Leaf potion,” Pansy said. “And yes, before you tell me, I know its disgusting but Millicent did swear by the stuff.” She tucked a stray strand of Draco’s white-blond hair behind his ear. “Try not to upset yourself love. I know you’re nervous but baby will be here before you know it, promise.

It was all very well for Pansy to be promising, Draco grumbled to himself. She and Theo weren't planning on getting pregnant any time soon. They were far too busy with jobs they loved, travelling and enjoying themselves. Draco however, felt fat, uncomfortable and hormonal, and quite ready to cry at the slightest provocation. He hoisted himself up with a grunt, and waddled over to the bathroom.


“You’re carrying low, and you’re one centimetre dilated, Mr. Malfoy. You could go into active labour at any time,” had been Midwifery Healer Smyth’s opinion only three days before. In the meantime, Draco had tried hard to induce his baby into being born by any means possible.

Draco had dates, chillies and spicy foodstuffs owl delivered from the shops on Diagon Alley. He’d had the apothecary make up a batch of Raspberry Leaf potion which, he’d been told was foolproof, and able to kick start even the most stubborn baby into movement. Nothing had happened except the most monstrous indigestion.

Draco had apparated to the Manor and walked three times around the Ornamental Lake to no apparent success. All that had achieved was an embarrassingly long snooze on his mother’s shoulder.

So far, the most successful experiment had been the nipple stimulation.

At forty-one weeks, Draco’s nipples were constantly sore, and chafed horribly against any material he wore against them. When Harry had taken them between his wand-calloused fingers, Draco had moaned in sheer pleasure, leaking two thin streams of translucent colostrum across Harry’s hands. Harry had satisfied an ache, a craving Draco hadn’t even really understood he had, but even the most enthusiastic nipple rubs still hadn’t brought on active labour.

And yesterday, Draco had even tried to convince Pansy to accompany him into Muggle London for an acupuncture session, only to have her to laugh and remind him that many Londoners weren't accustomed to seeing men with baby-bellies in such full bloom. “Baby isn’t far away,” she’d reminded Harry and himself. “Try and be patient.”

The problem was, Draco knew that patience really wasn’t his strong suite. Draco wanted so desperately to hold their baby in his arms, and kiss their downy head. He wanted to inspect their tiny feet and hands, and really get to know this baby that he’d already grown to love.

And Draco knew, of course, that the best way to induce their baby to be born was sex. Healer Smyth had said as much, telling a red-faced and stuttering Harry that lovemaking was completely safe, even this late into his pregnancy.

“Its absolutely the best thing for you both,” she’d stated, not abashed in the slightest at Harry’s mortification. “It’s a healthy way strengthen your twosome just before you become a threesome. It’ll release any tensions, and help keep you physically and mentally close. Plus, it’ll get Draco’s oxytocin levels pumping, which is the hormone that brings on labour. Sex really is something to consider, gentlemen.”

“I just can’t get over the idea that it’d… Well, that it would hurt our baby,” Harry had replied, despite what they had just been told. “And Draco’s gotten so big now. I don’t want to cause him any discomfort… I know I want to… But just don’t know if I can.” Draco had rolled his eyes at that final comment.

Harry really was the most loving, supportive partner, but truly, that Saviour complex did get a little trying on occasion.


Draco managed about three drops of wee before adjusting his elasticated paternity trousers, and Scrougifying his hands clean.

He made his way out of the bathroom as best he could, only to be met with a worried looking Pansy pacing at the door. “You were ages, Draco,” she said moodily, as she gave him her arm and helped him shuffle back to the settee. “Honestly, I’ve aged a hundred years stressing about you this afternoon. I suspect I’ll be bloody grey before your baby is born!”

Pansy handed him over the Raspberry Leaf potion, which she’d placed under a stasis spell. Draco took a large mouthful and grimaced. Nothing came close to the Espresso made by the coffee machine he’d had imported from Italy for his twenty-fifth birthday, charmed to be perfect every time. He’d been off that far too long, too.

“Doubt it Pans. No grey hair would dare grow on your beautiful head. They’d be scared shitless.” Draco leant back against his pillows, and swallowed the rest of the potion. “But thank you for looking after me, love. I really do appreciate it. Even though this potion is quite vile. Its Friday night… You should be off shagging Nott, or something exciting. Not hanging around a bloody Erumpent like me.”

Pansy laughed, summoning her coat and handbag.

“I expect promotion to this ones’ favourite aunt when they arrive, which, looking at the size of you shouldn’t be too much longer. Harry firecalled while you were messing about in the loo. That emergency meeting about the Vampire den on Knockturn was concluded without any problems so he’ll be home in a few minutes. So I am off to shag Nott, as it is only eight o’clock.”

As if on cue, the floo flamed, and Harry barrelled through; six foot of muscle, barely-contained magic and great boots that stomped through their home. Draco winced under another strong kick. It only took Harry’s mere presence for their baby to start writhing and wriggling, reacting immediately to the magic they were already so familiar with. In only two strides Harry was stood beside Draco, hands squeezing his shoulders and soft lips pressing a kiss onto Draco’s hair.

“What a waste of bloody time,” Harry announced as he shrugged off his coat, and sat down next to his boyfriend. He Reducio’d his Auror kit, and placed it in his pocket. “Pure malicious prejudice. Those ruddy Vampires were minding their own business, getting on with their lives. Those allegations were utter nonsense.”

Putting a hand on the concave swell of Draco’s belly, Harry’s eyes were narrow until he felt the soft push back of his baby against his fingertips. “Ah,” Harry murmured, his green eyes widening in pleasure, “there they are. I’ve been craving that since the very second I walked out of the door. I’m assuming everything was fine here? That nothings happened yet?”

“Not yet,” Pansy replied, giving Harry a brief hug. “But lets hope it does soon. Draco may perish from sheer impatience otherwise. I’m going to leave you two to enjoy some time together.” She stepped into the Floo, and gave them both a theatrical wink as she disappeared into the flames.

Quite honestly, Draco decided, his best friend was the most shrewd person he’d ever met.


“So how are you really?” Harry asked, his hands still carefully caressing Draco’s belly. “I was desperate to get back to you and the baby… Desperate to have you close by. All the time I was away I couldn’t stop thinking about you both.”

“I’m sore,” Draco replied, closing his eyes and relaxing under Harry’s clever touches. “And as big as a house. I’m hot, bothered and your bloody Potter baby is both restless and lazy. One can only hope they’ll take after me in looks because they seem to have inherited your temperament. Have a word, would you?”

Harry smiled, and leant down to press his lips against the thin Holyhead Harpies tee-shirt that Draco was reduced to wearing.

“Hello baby,” he began in a soft voice, “your daddy says you’ve been fidgety and wiggly. You need to be kinder, because he’s very weary and sensitive… And you need to treat him with respect because he’s been keeping you so safe and warm, growing you big and beautiful.”

“That's lovely,” Draco replied, his stupid, bloody hormones making him feel a little like was going to cry, “and I'm sure they'll listen but I was thinking we could perhaps also do something a little bit more practical. Remember what Healer Smyth said about-”

“I’m still not sure Draco. I know what she said, and I'm sorry you’re uncomfortable, I really am… But I don’t want to hurt you, or hurt our baby.” Harry interrupted, looking genuinely torn. Draco knew he hated denying him anything.

Still, Draco had planned for Harry’s initial refusal and knew the next steps to take. Draco was resolute, and he wanted to birth this baby quite as soon as he possibly could.

“Alright, Harry.” Draco agreed, cheerfully. “That’s fine.”

“It is?” Harry asked in a suspicious tone of voice, obviously surprised that Draco was willing to let the matter drop so easily. Merlin, Draco thought. His boyfriend was easier to read than an open bloody spell-book.

“Yes, it is.” Draco pushed the foot-rest back, and struggled into a sitting position.

He impudently held out a hand for Harry to help him to his feet, and even then only managed to stand with care. “Now love,” he asked, carelessly, “if you wouldn’t mind side-apparating us up into the bedroom? I was hoping you’d give me one of your beautiful massages. The Midwife says they’ll get me all relaxed and cosy. You never know, it might bring on our baby…”


On their bed, Harry Evanesco’d Draco’s clothes so that he didn’t have to struggle out of them. In days gone past, Draco would have made quite the show of his sudden near-nakedness, but today he waited quietly, taking his time.

He let Harry drink in the view of his domed belly and his swollen, blue-veined chest that had already filled with rich milk ready for their baby. Draco stroked a casual hand over one darkened nipple; it felt both tender and raw. Painful, but in such a good way. Harry’s entire focus was trained on Draco’s belly, his eyes lust-blown and wide.

“Touch me, love,” Draco beseeched. “You can, Harry. You won’t break us, I promise.”

Draco’s words seemed to pull Harry from his reverie, and he Accio’d the massage oil, stalking forward, roughly stripping off his own shirt, and trousers and throwing them aside.

Harry placed a possessive, powerful hand over Draco’s round bump, and used his other to knot his hands lightly in his boyfriend’s white-blond hair, gently tilting Draco’s head back so they could share a long, deep kiss.

“You’re mine.” Harry growled. “Mine. My baby. My beloved. My family.”

“We’re yours,” Draco asserted, pressing the swell of his belly into Harry’s hand. “And you couldn’t ever hurt us. Touch me, please… I want this. Want you.”

Harry’s massage was, of course, sensual and skilful, and Draco felt the stresses of his late pregnancy drain away under his lover’s strong hands.

The sweet scent of the lavender massage oil filled his senses as Harry’s persuasive hands kneed his shoulders. Harry’s hands slid, slick and slow over the rounded sides of his belly, and only paused briefly before they ventured lower, lightly squeezing at Draco’s recently filled-out arse cheeks.

Harry wandlessly vanished Draco’s boxer shorts, leaving him naked, and aching with want.

Draco whined audibly when Harry’s hands moved upwards once more, but even he couldn’t deny how good this massage was making him feel. His boyfriend’s hands were proficient, adept and perfect, finding every piece of tension in Draco’s hot, overstretched form, and demolishing it. Draco’s skin felt pliant and soft beneath the roll and glide of Harry’s calloused fingers, and suddenly both of their bodies felt heated and sensitive.

“And this is what you really want, Draco?” Harry asked then, in a low, quiet tone. “Me to fuck you until you go into labour? Because I will, love. I want you too. So much.”

“Please, Harry.” Draco replied. “I need this. I need you.”


Harry Scrougify’d the worst of the massage oil from his hands, and helped Draco up into a seated position on their bed, propping him up with pillows and cushioning spells.

Harry knelt down reverently in front of the swell of Draco’s belly and proceeded to press chaste kisses all over the taut, stretch-marked skin filled to the brim by his child.

“Just look at you, Draco,” Harry said. “You’re so big now, so full of our baby. I love to look at you like this, love knowing that you’re being so good for me, and that you’re keeping our baby so safe, snug and happy under your beating heart… And you’ve done so well, Draco. Even thought they’ve made you tired and sore, you’ve loved our baby every single day. I’m in awe of you, love.”

“Harry... Don’t say-” whispered Draco, but he was cut off when Harry hushed him, pressing a lavender scented finger against his lips.

“I am in awe of you, Draco… You’ve given me everything. Given me a family. Look how your body has changed to let our baby grow. Those thickened hips to carry our child, and these new, round arse-cheeks to help cushion you through your labour. Your skin is luminous. You’ve never been so luscious, sweetheart. I’ve lusted after you every single day...”

Harry moved then, climbing behind Draco’s heavy form, and replacing the cushions and spells with his own body. He spread his legs wide, cautiously pulling Draco’s naked back parallel with his own chest.

As he took Draco’s swollen, fervid left pec in his hand, Harry started to massage it with the same loving care as before, compressing his finger and thumb delicately over the leaking, dripping nipple. The pressure was obscenely gratifying, and Draco moaned unselfconsciously, undulating into his lover’s sweet touches.

“I know, love… I can feel the tightness of your skin, feel just how full of milk you are,” Harry whispered into Draco’s hair, taking his right pec in his other hand and doing the same. “Look at you. So big that you’re leaking, and you can’t even help it. You’ve no idea what it does to me, seeing you like this, all ready to feed our baby, all ready to help them to grow strong. You’re a deity, Draco, a fucking celestial being. I fucking love you.”

Draco felt his head grow dizzy with Harry’s words, and the relentless pleasure his boyfriend was giving him, his sheer relief at the sensation audible in their quiet bedroom. It felt both frightening and exhilarating, imagining their baby feeding from him, drinking his very own milk before many more hours had passed.

Not every wizard could produce milk enough to support their offspring, but Draco trusted his body. It had already let him bear a child, and he knew he’d want to feed their child too.

And Draco didn't know if seconds or minutes had passed when Harry finally relented his searing touches. All he knew was that Harry’s hand were saturated, drenched with his milk, and that his beloved fondly licked each and every finger.

“It’s delicious, Draco,” Harry rasped. “You’re delicious. And now, if you still want it, you can have my cock. Let me fuck that baby out of you, Draco. Let me help you birth our baby.”


Harry carefully manoeuvred Draco so that he was lain prone on his back, placing pillows beneath his head and hips, and muttering a wandless lubing spell as he did so.

This was the part of sex that Harry normally takes his time over, Draco thought, but today he could tell his boyfriend was all business, preparing them both thoroughly for the task at hand. Harry vanished his own underwear, and lubed up two fingers, breaching Draco’s tight ring of muscle, opening him up beautifully and exquisitely.

“Harry, please… I need more. I need your cock,” Draco nearly cried out. Harry’s fingers felt so filling; felt just agonisingly beautiful as they stretched him wide, yet somehow he knew they wouldn’t be enough. Not for what he so urgently craved.

“And you’re really sure this is what you want, love? Once we start there might not be any going back, Draco.” Harry’s eyes were dark, brazen with hunger, and Draco shivered under the heat of his gaze. “I’m positive,” he replied. “Bit late for going back now, anyway.”

Harry smiled at that, withdrawing his fingers carefully.

Draco moaned at the loss while Harry lifted him up so that he was seated in Harry’s lap, face-to-face with only Draco’s prodigious bump between them. Harry negotiated Draco’s body carefully, shifting his wide hips so that he was able to push his thick, ruddy cock into Draco’s ready hole.

Harry seemed to be finding his boyfriend’s weight suspiciously easy to manage, leading Draco to realise the cheeky bastard had used a lightening spell. Still, as his girthy lover filled him inch-by-inch every other thought simply dissipated from his brain, in favour of the sheer joy that was being filled to the brim by the love of his life.

“Love seeing you like this,” Harry moaned as he slowed his movements, his words a litany of desire. “Love how I've bred you full of my baby. Love how big you are, Draco. Going to be such a wonderful other daddy for my baby.” He slowly massaged Draco’s chest too, hands everywhere, teasing and pinching his nipples.

“And you’re going to feed them, nourish them. Make them bloody thrive. You’re so fucking good, so bloody perfect. Can’t understand how I got this lucky with my life, Draco. Love you so much.”

Draco was leaking: dripping, and moaning, crying tears of lust and pure adoration. Utterly overwhelmed by Harry’s words, and the hormones crashing in a tidal wave through his body, Draco felt like he was about to disintegrate, about to smash into a million, tiny pieces. He clung onto Harry for dear life, not even sure he’d survive the unforgiving torrent of emotions overtaking him.

“Fuck me then, Potter,” he hissed. “Make me yours. Prove to me how much you want me.”

Already have,” Harry smirked, laughing. “You’ve been mine since I filled your womb full of my child. The whole world knows that you’re mine. Knows that I'm taken. Knows that no-one else will ever be enough.”

Harry threw his head back, a wide grin filling his face, and Draco’s mind just went utterly blank. His lover was fucking him relentlessly, a strong hand gripping the small of his back and the other hooked into his side, keeping him safe, keeping him secure.

And this, this was everything Draco had wanted.

Real sex; possessive, true and raw, bringing them together, strengthening their twosome, just before their baby was born, whilst still feeling so incredibly safe. There hadn’t been one second where Draco had felt vulnerable or anxious. He’d only ever felt loved.

Angling his thrusts for maximum effect, Harry gasped while Draco panted. Draco felt his whole body sweating, and his skin was so achingly sensitive he imagined it was about to burn off his bones. Then they were both coming within moments, within seconds of each other. Draco spilled ribbons of creamy spunk on Harry’s thighs, while Harry filled his beloved up with his own potent orgasm.

The only sound in the room was their tangled breath, the racing of their blood and the pounding of their hearts in their chests. Their baby coiled and wriggled under Draco’s skin, kicking hard, and revelling in the pure magic of their parent’s true love.


Harry cleaned them both up, Scrougifying the worst of the stickiness, casting cooling spells and easing Draco into a comfortable sitting position just as soon as his racing pulse had returned to close to normal.

They each pulled their crumpled clothes back on, and lay dazed and happy for a few minutes, kissing and giggling like teenagers.

“I’m just going to get a drink for us both,” Harry said, kissing Draco’s forehead. “Need to keep you hydrated. You stay here for a few minutes, get your breath and I’ll soon be back, promise.”

“If you must,” Draco pouted, disappointed that their baby still didn’t seem inclined to make their grand entrance. “But, please, not the Raspberry Leaf potion. Anything but that, I beg. Regular Earl-Grey, Harry and if you could see if there's any of those scones left I wouldn’t be averse either, love...”

Draco was just deciding whether to compliment his scone with jam or cream when he was shocked out of his happy trance. A particularly unpleasant pain radiated from the bottom of his belly and settled, throbbing in his lower back.

Ooof,” Draco groaned. He was still trying valiantly to massage the agony from his back when he felt his whole belly contract once more, and the pain in his back twist like a clamp. A sickening gush of liquids started to leak steadily down his thighs, soaking through his trousers, and causing his heart to skip a beat.

Fright filled his brain, clouded his thoughts, and made his lungs feel like they were stuffed with bloody Puffskeins. White lights danced at the corner of Draco’s vision, and for several seconds he didn’t seem able to make any kind of noise at all. A fresh stab of pain rolled through his middle then, and Draco’s primal instincts clicked back into clear focus. He took in a wobbly breath, and called for Harry in a thin, reedy voice.

“My waters have broken. The baby is coming!” he winced, glaring at his boyfriend’s surprised face which had appeared at their bedroom door.

Draco clutched his belly with a protective hand. When Harry still didn’t speak, and a glaze of worry crept over his features, Draco screwed his eyes closed in frustration.

Typical, he thought. Head Auror and Saviour of us all decides to lose it completely on the most important day of his life.

“Don’t you bloody well dare panic now, Potter! Where’s your Gryffindor courage? Firecall Mother and Pansy, and tell them to meet us at St. Mungos. And then Engorgio my bloody hospital bag! And Floo me to hospital!”

Draco watched the wheels turn in Harry’s head, and saw his lover snap back into reality. Above all things, Harry was the consummate man of action, and saving the day, was, of course, what Harry did the very best.

Harry kissed Draco, his face a mixture of joy and nerves and then rushed away, leaving Draco alone. As another pain ratcheted through him, Draco crouched down, biting his lip against the burn.

“The Midwifery Healer said I’d know the real thing when it arrived, baby,” he murmured to his bump, fidgeting though another pulsing ache. “And there was never a truer word said, my darling. I suppose this means my plan worked after all.”


“That's it, you’re doing so well, Draco!” Healer Ambrose encouraged, but Draco was well past the point of believing another person’s word, ever again.

Harry had cast an Aguamenti, and was using it to wet a flannel and wipe his forehead, but the Gryffindor arse still seemed far too happy. Draco squeezed Harry’s wand hand as hard as he could, hoping he could mangle it forever.

The Healer nodded. “I really think you’ll be ready to push very soon.”

”And that's what…what you said… a bloody hour ago, and yet…here we all are!” Draco panted, giving the Healer, the Midwife and Harry his best furious glare. “Merlin’s sake… I need to push now.”

Draco felt quite sure they’d all been saying the same things hours ago, but then another contraction arrived, and once more he lost all ability for rational thought.

“No, Draco. Another couple of minutes.” Their Healer glanced at a diagnostic spell projected against the wall, frowning slightly at Midwife Smyth. “But baby will be here in a very short time-”

“Don’t tell me when baby will be here! They’ve been coming for fucking hours!” Draco was despairing, and he grabbed Harry's hand once more, trying to pull him close. “Harry, please… I’m not strong enough…I can’t do this.”

“You can, Draco,” Harry was calm, and Draco thought he might like to murder him, but then his boyfriend opted instead for pressing a small kiss on Draco’s brilliantly red and sweaty face, and all was forgiven.

“You are doing it, and you’re doing so well. Look how strong you’re being for our family. I love you.”

“Draco,” reminded the Midwife in a kind voice, “you need to keep focussed. Breathe like you practised. Focus on birthing your baby, not on your partner.”

Harry smiled, and wiped the cool cloth over Draco’s head once more. “I’m right here, love. Not going anywhere. I still think you’re amazing. I hate that this is hard for you-”

But Draco wasn’t listening.

Harry’s words had washed away in a sea of pain. His last contraction had been the biggest yet, and he felt like the pain was squeezing him from the inside out. He’d never survive this, he despaired, he’d never get to meet his baby.

And just that single thought made him dissolve, made the air fly out from his lungs. The pain of this contraction never seemed to ever end, and Draco knew, just knew that he was going to shatter, knew he was going to be torn to pieces. He didn’t dare look down, afraid that his pelvis had ripped into two. Pain seemed to coil right down through his legs, seemed to radiate out and fill his chest and there was nothing, nothing left to tether him to the Earth.

But end it did, and Draco floated back into a reality where the Healer was examining him.

“Okay, so good news,” she smiled. “Next time you feel a contraction, you can go ahead and push. You’re absolutely ready.”

“I’ve been ready for months,” Draco croaked, far too tired to think of anything clever to say, and only really wanting this pain to be over. The agony returned after what only seemed like a few seconds of respite, and suddenly Draco felt an enormous pressure build at the base of his belly.

He pushed with the pain, gripping the side of the bed, and bore down against the pressure as hard as he could. The sounds he was making were simply atrocious, a mixture of moans and grunts that he was quite unable to control.

“That was wonderful. Excellent push, Draco.” Healer Ambrose told him. “A few more pushes like that and your baby will be crowning.”

And Draco cried out then, feeling like he’d lost all restraint, like he’d lost all control. He was consumed, utterly exhausted, and his contractions felt infinite. He gripped Harry’s hands, terribly aware of each second passing, and held tightly to his his breath.

"Push,” Harry said. “Come on now. Push all the way down. I know you can do this.”

And then there was an incredible pressure, and a feeling of burning that was over before it had really begun. The tiniest, slimiest, purple-skinned baby was suddenly there, hot, sticky and so real and placed in Draco’s very own hands. She made a thin, mewing cry.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Healer Ambrose said kindly. “Congratulations Malfoy-Potter daddies. You have a daughter, and she’s perfect.”


Draco was discharged from St. Mungos two days later. He and Harry were met at their door by a cheerful and smiling Pansy. She’d promised to stay for a few days, and put her busy life with Theo on hold while Draco and Harry got used to their life with Lily Narcissa.

“After all,” she had laughed, stroking baby Lily’s soft cheek “if I’m going to the very best aunt in the world, I do need to put the time in. I don’t intend to be usurped by a bloody Weasley.” Harry and Lily soon feel fast asleep, and Draco and his best-friend lazed together on the settee, revelling in the simple quiet of the moment.

“You and Potter certainly made a gorgeous baby,” Pansy admitted, draining the last of her tea. “And it would seem that your impatience finally won the day. What did we try?” She counted off the list with her fingers. “Dates, chillies and spicy foods. Walking. That dreadful Raspberry Leaf muck. You even wanted to try acupuncture.”

“And nipple stimulation, massage…” Draco yawned, running a light hand over his still squashy tummy.

“But I can confirm, Pans, for your future reference, that sex was the best way to bring our baby into the world. Potter was very effective in that department, let me assure you. And we even had tremendous fun doing it.”