Two full days without magic. Harry hadn't just had an involuntary magical outburst, his magic had fought against itself to keep from hurting anyone in the room, which left it drained. But it was a magical pregnancy, and James depended on that magic, so any spellcasting was forbidden for 48 hours. After that, he was cleared, but told to avoid it as much as possible.
His sessions with Mind Healer Elwood had increased, three times a week instead of two, and Healer Hawthorne had agreed to visit him twice a week for the next three weeks, just to make sure James was doing well.
If his eating habits had improved over the past few weeks, that week they had slipped, and Harry had to force himself back into eating. There were all the stares in the corridors, professors refusing to let him take part in practical lessons, his friends treating him as though he might shatter at any moment.
Harry wanted to tell the whole wizarding world to fuck off.
Malfoy, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were constantly hovering over him, so he did what he had to do. But at night, when he woke in the early hours, he tried to track where Carrow and Yaxley were. He gathered news, unofficial reports, testimonies he managed to get from Shacklebolt, trying to map their routes, trying to predict their plans.
He hadn't played chess with Ron. He hadn't read the book Hermione had recommended. He hadn't kissed Draco.
Elwood warned him that everyone knew what he was doing, that everyone had already noticed, but that only made him angrier at her.
Why couldn't anyone understand that he couldn't just sit still? That he couldn't bring James into a world where those two bastards were still out there, breathing free?
The night before, when he went to fetch his papers, he discovered they were gone, someone had taken them, and that left him furious. That morning he grabbed Ron's Marauder's Map and skipped every class, just sat near the lake, watching the water.
"You understand, don't you, my little boy?" he asked, stroking his belly. "I have to make sure you come into a safe world. I can't allow those men to be free when you're born," he explained, sighing, smiling when he felt a small push against his hand.
He reached for one of the magazines he had ordered and started looking at cribs, thinking about which would be best for James's room. There was a rectangular one in very dark wood, he thought it was beautiful. It had to be a dark crib, to match the style James's room was being decorated in.
"Kreacher," he called, and then came the familiar sound of Apparition.
"Master," the elf appeared, and Harry looked at him.
"How's James's room coming along?" he asked, and the elf's ears twitched.
"The walls and ceiling are already painted in that dark blue shade you chose, Master. Kreacher saw it being done, and Kreacher placed the little golden lights that look like stars on the ceiling and upper walls, Master," he said, and Harry smiled.
"Do you think the room is too dark?" Harry asked.
"No, Master, the window in the room you chose is quite large," Kreacher replied. "Kreacher hung cream-colored curtains, Master." Harry nodded.
"I was thinking about this crib," he showed in the magazine, and the elf looked at the picture.
"Kreacher heard Mistress Weasley will make the canopy," he said, and Harry nodded. "Kreacher can set it up with the crib, Master," he suggested, and Harry smiled.
"That would be nice, Kreacher," he agreed. "I wanted a golden crescent moon, enchanted the same way as the stars," he murmured, and Kreacher nodded.
"Kreacher will cast it, Master. Kreacher will also be here to receive the cream rug you picked," the elf added.
"Oh, did you find the wizarding children's storybooks?" Harry asked.
"Kreacher arranged them on the shelves beside the crib, Master, along with the Muggle books you chose," he explained. "Master still needs to choose a nursing chair, Master," he added, and Harry nodded.
"I know," Harry sighed, brushing hair from his eyes. "Can you find a dresser for James's clothes and for changing him, made of the same material as the crib?" he asked.
"Kreacher can, Master. Kreacher can go search for one today, Master, after Master eats something," the elf said, and Harry looked at him, sighing. "Kreacher is only concerned for the heir of the Noble House of Black," he added, and Harry nodded.
"All right, thank you," he agreed.
The next thing he picked up was a catalog of baby clothes, blankets, wraps, stuffed animals, socks, hats, shorts, everything so tiny, so delicate. While eating the lunch Kreacher had brought him, he circled some of the outfits he wanted to buy.
"At least you ate?" came Draco's voice, and Harry turned, seeing the blond behind him, looking slightly out of breath, frowning at that. "I searched the whole castle for you, not just me, Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, Thomas, Finnigan, Lovegood, even the female Weasley," he said, coming closer. "I don't know how Weasley and Granger always knew where you were, but whatever it was, they don't have it anymore," he added, sitting down beside him, taking a deep breath.
Harry sighed, reached for his wand, and soon a large silver stag stood there, upright, in front of them both.
"I'm fine, I ate, I'm hydrated, I'm on Hogwarts grounds, I'll be back to the dorm before dark," he said, indicating that his Patronus should pass the message to Ron and Hermione.
He turned back to the lake without speaking to the Slytherin, and heard him sigh, sounding a little frustrated.
"I understand how you feel, Harry. I want them arrested too. I want James to be completely safe when he's born, but you can't put yourself in charge of catching them," Malfoy said, and Harry rolled his eyes without answering. "You need to rest, eat well, stay hydrated, stay safe and healthy so James can grow properly," he added after a moment.
"For what? So he can be killed by Death Eaters when he's born? So both of us die trying to save him, and he grows up an orphan, never knowing who his parents were, like Teddy? So we're tortured into madness and James has to visit us at St. Mungus for the rest of his life, knowing we'll never recognize him?" he asked, not mentioning Neville. "Or so James becomes just another name on the list of people who died because of me?" He stood up, irritated.
"Harry, it's not like it was back then. The Dark Lord is dead, you killed him. They don't have the strength or leadership to do any of those things anymore," Malfoy said.
"You still call him the Dark Lord. Ridiculous." Harry laughed dryly, shaking his head.
"Be rational, please," Malfoy pleaded.
"I am being rational, fucking hell!" Harry exploded, the sound echoing across the open space. "How many of those lunatics are still out there? How long do you think until someone tries to hurt James, now that the dear 'Boy Who Lived' is pregnant?" He pressed his belly almost without noticing, instinctively.
"And what are you going to do, Harry? Risk your life hunting down each of these men?" Draco's voice finally lost its calm.
"It's not risking, it's trying to save!" Harry spat the words, the bitter taste in his mouth. "I can't just sit still."
"Do you think I don't want to end them as much as you do?" Draco shot back, taking a step forward.
"Then where were you when I woke up covered in blood in my dreams and could barely breathe? Where were you when danger came into the castle, when Greyback tore my best friend's brother's face? You let them in, don't pretend there aren't consequences." Draco's face stiffened as if he'd been punched.
"You can't throw that in my face as if I'm the villain," he said quietly.
"Why not?" Harry shouted, the sound tearing through the air. "Prove to me you're not. I've seen what your family did, what your friends did, what you did."
"Don't talk to me like that," Draco snapped back, but his voice was already breaking. "You don't have the right to reduce me to what I was. I fought too."
"Fought?" Harry stepped closer, almost chest to chest. "You think I don't know what you're capable of? You think saying that erases everything?" Draco retreated, his pale eyes full of pain.
"If that's what you want, then hate me. But don't risk your life and our little baby's."
The words dropped between them like ice. Something inside Harry shattered. It wasn't just anger, it was fear, guilt, exhaustion. His breath faltered, and the world suddenly felt too small to hold the two of them.
And in that instant, he realized there was nothing left he could say without breaking himself apart. The silence grew unbearably heavy.
Draco stepped forward. Harry didn't back away. The collision was immediate, hands clutching in a rough pull, breaths ragged, and then their lips crashed together, hard, harsh, as if trying to erase the words themselves, before yielding to urgency.
Harry felt teeth clash, the sting of pressure, the anger still burning underneath, but he couldn't stop. Draco's mouth tasted of salt, of cold wind, and of something far too hot, dangerous. He yanked him closer by the collar until there was no space left at all.
Draco's hands came up to his face, steady, almost desperate, and the ferocity slowly gave way, as if both knew they couldn't burn forever. The kiss deepened, slowed. Harry felt Draco's tongue slide against his, not like an assault, but like a plea.
Harry's heart pounded so hard it seemed ready to break through his ribs. His hand pressed instinctively to his belly, as if even in this chaos he could shield James. But Draco's grip on his waist was firm, anchoring him, saying without words he wouldn't let him fall.
The anger melted into something else, confusing, aching, good all the same. Desire, yes, but also the relief of not being alone in the fear. The kiss shifted between hunger and gentleness, teeth biting one moment, lips soothing the next.
When they finally broke apart, clarity didn't come. Their foreheads rested together, breaths uneven, Draco's pale eyes so close Harry couldn't tell where fury ended and need began. Everything tangled, shame, relief, longing, fear.
And Harry realized, breathless, that he didn't know if he wanted to scream again or kiss him once more.
"I need you to let the Aurors handle this, Harry," Draco whispered, and Harry closed his eyes.
"I can't. I can't sleep, every time I try, I see the people who died or were hurt because of me, including you," Harry said, opening his eyes again when he felt his face cupped. "I'm sorry for what I said, I'm losing it, please forgive me," he nearly begged, and in answer the Slytherin pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
"I've told you before, if you need to scream, then scream. It won't drive me away," Draco said, and Harry shut his eyes, resting his head against the other's shoulder.
"Sleep with me tonight?" he asked softly, letting himself sink further into Draco's arms.
"I will, sweetheart, of course I will," Draco murmured, kissing his hair.
Then he drew back, holding Harry's face in both hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Harry lifted his chin, silently asking for another kiss there, and the blond understood, sealing their lips together again. Harry felt like he could finally breathe.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against Draco's mouth.
"There's no reason to apologize, sweetheart," he said, brushing the tip of his nose against Harry's.
"Remember sixth year?" Harry asked quietly, pulling back a little, and Draco arched a brow. "The way Ron and Hermione always found me, it's the same way I used to watch you," he confessed, and Draco frowned. "Merlin, if my fifteen-year-old self could see me now…" Harry gave a weak laugh, walking over to his bag, pulling out the map, and placing it in Malfoy's hands.
"With an old bit of parchment?" Draco asked, confused, and Harry smiled faintly, pointing his wand at the map.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said, watching as those gray-blue eyes widened when the lines and names bloomed across the parchment.
"It's Hogwarts," Draco muttered, brows furrowing.
"My dad and his friends made this map. I leave it with Ron when I want to be alone, just so he and Hermione don't worry, but I was irritated this morning," Harry explained, noticing the way Draco's eyes scanned the shifting names. "Mischief managed," he said, and the map faded away, folding itself closed. Harry plucked it from Draco's hands, smoothing it down before tucking it back into his pocket.
"This is what you used to follow me with?" Draco asked, sounding a little dazed, and Harry only shrugged.
"My dad didn't know about the Room of Requirement, so it doesn't appear on the map. Took me a while to figure out why you kept vanishing from it," he said, staring down at the scuffed pair of Converse on his feet.
"Thank you for sharing that," Draco said, and Harry lifted his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, and Draco offered a small smile.
"It's all right, sweetheart," he smiled back. "Shall we head in?" he suggested, and Harry sighed before nodding.
"You know I don't see you as a villain, right?" Harry asked, but Draco didn't answer.
Harry didn't have time to gather his things, the Slytherin was quicker, and he let Draco slip an arm over his shoulders as they walked toward the castle. But Harry slowed, glancing back.
The lake reflected the sky in orange shades, and for a moment, he didn't want to leave. The cool air, the calm water, the quiet broken only by distant birdsong, it was all so much easier than returning to corridors filled with prying eyes.
"Can we stay a little longer?" Harry asked softly.
Draco didn't answer at once, but he slowed his steps and sank back down onto the grass. Harry followed, releasing a long sigh as he dropped beside him. For a while, neither spoke. Just the wind moving through their hair, just the quiet warmth of being close.
"You always blame yourself for everything," Draco murmured after a long silence, his voice so low it nearly vanished. "As if it were your duty to fix the whole world."
Harry didn't know what to say. He hugged his knees against his rounded belly and rested his chin there, staring at the still surface of the lake. Part of him wanted to shout again, to argue, to tell Draco he didn't understand. But the other part, the tired one, the part that only wanted to breathe in peace, knew he was right.
Draco's fingers combed through the grass, as if he needed something solid to hold onto. "I know you won't stop fighting," he went on, "but just let me stand beside you when you do. Don't push me away."
Harry turned his head slowly, meeting pale eyes fixed on him. There was no judgment, no accusation, only that unsettling steadiness, as if Draco had already decided he wasn't going anywhere.
"I'm scared," Harry admitted at last, unable to hold it in any longer. "Of everything, of losing Ron, Hermione, and Neville, of losing the whole Weasley family, of losing James, of losing you, of repeating my parents' mistakes."
Draco didn't move closer this time, and strangely, the silence was enough. Harry reached out until his fingers brushed against the blond's, not daring to meet his gaze again.
The silence that followed wasn't heavy like before. It was the kind that filled in the cracks, that slowed the beating of the heart. Harry let his head fall against Draco's shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. When Draco's hand settled over his, he didn't pull away.
Time seemed to stretch there, though not in a bad way. Harry couldn't tell how long had passed, minutes, maybe over an hour, but his body finally felt less tense, as if each heartbeat had lost some of its frantic pace.
"If I let you, you'll stay out here until you freeze," Draco said after a while, his tone more gentle than mocking. Harry opened his eyes and realized his head was still resting on Draco's shoulder.
"Maybe that's better than facing the Common Room," he murmured, voice dragging, not with anger, just weariness.
"You never make things easy," Draco breathed out a low sound, not quite a laugh.
"And yet you're still here," Harry shot back, lifting his gaze slowly. Draco's eyes were too close, too clear in the early night. For a second, Harry forgot how to breathe. He pulled back before it was too late, pushing his hands against the grass to stand. "We should go before Hermione invents her own Marauder's Map."
Draco stood as well, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. They walked side by side in silence, the castle glowing in the distance, its windows lit like scattered points of gold. Harry felt Draco drift a little closer, his arm brushing against his own, and didn't move away.
When they reached the stairs, the cold air wrapped around them again, tugging Harry back to reality. The voices from the Great Hall echoed inside, reminding him that soon he'd have to face stares, questions, expectations. Draco's hand brushed lightly against his shoulder before stepping in. All Harry wanted, in that instant, was to keep that slice of silence just for them.
The doors opened, and the wave of warmth and noise from the Great Hall rushed over them at once. Overlapping conversations, laughter, the clatter of cutlery filled the space lit by hundreds of floating candles. Hermione spotted them first, straightening on the bench, her eyes sweeping Harry from head to toe with concern. Ron followed soon after, his gaze heavy.
"You took your time," Hermione said plainly when they sat down.
Harry searched for some simple answer, but found only the weight of her stare. Ron said nothing, only ran a hand through his hair, as if holding himself back from spilling a barrage of questions right then and there.
Draco sat beside him, though also beside Zabini, and poured himself some juice with infuriating calm, ignoring the tension, while Harry dropped his gaze to the empty plate in front of him, the pressure in the air building around him.
"I just needed some air, sorry," Harry said quietly, glancing at the dishes on the table before serving himself some pumpkin juice and taking a sip.
"Feeling better now, mate?" Ron asked, and Harry looked at him, offering a small smile.
"Yes, I am. Sorry for worrying you and for… taking it back," he said, carefully avoiding mentioning the map in front of so many people. He could've trusted Draco with the information, but telling the other Slytherins would've been too much.
"It's okay, just let us know next time," Hermione said, giving a small smile, though her concern was obvious.
"Can I read your DADA notes later?" he asked, and the girl rolled her eyes before laughing and nodding.
"One day you two are going to give me aneurysms," she said, massaging one of her temples.
"I didn't even do anything," Ron defended himself, and Harry let himself laugh.
He loved them so much.
He frowned when Draco moved beside him, noticing that the blond was swapping his clean, untouched plate for Harry's, which had what looked like sliced chicken breast and a piece of bread with something white spread on it, ricotta, maybe. He glanced at the Slytherin, but Draco was engaged in conversation with Goyle, seemingly oblivious to him.
Harry looked back at the plate, picked up a piece of the chicken with his fork, and brought it to his lips. When he lifted his eyes, he saw Hermione and Ron watching him, and Harry sighed, reaching for his wand and casting a silencing and privacy charm around the three of them.
"Draco and I have been kissing for two weeks, it happened again last week before the nightmare and the crisis, and today," he confessed, glancing down at the plate again.
"You like him," Ron said, not as a question.
"But I shouldn't," Harry admitted, frustrated, scratching a piece of bread and bringing it to his mouth.
"Why not? You're going to have a child together, Harry," Hermione said, and Harry sighed.
"He was a Death Eater," he said, as if the entire wizarding world didn't already know that.
"But he was kind of forced into it, right?" Ron asked.
"He still had choices. He still accepted the mark. He still fought alongside Voldemort. His father gave Tom Riddle's diary to Ginny. He handed us over to Umbridge. He let Greyback in and attacked Bill. We were imprisoned in his house. His aunt killed Dobby, Sirius, and Tonks, and tortured Hermione. The side he was on killed Fred, Lupin, Colin. He called you a mudblood," he added for Hermione, trying to make clear there was a problem there.
"It wasn't him who gave the diary to Ginny, it was his father. And it was his aunt who killed Sirius, Tonks, and Dobby, an aunt who was Tonks' aunt, Teddy's great-aunt," Ron said calmly. "He was responsible for Umbridge, and yes, he let Greyback into Hogwarts, but Bill is fine, scarred, but didn't transform."
"He sent me a total of three letters apologizing, for all the times he called me a mudblood and for not helping at the Manor," Hermione said, her tone serious. "He also apologized to me in person after James was born. I won't say I'm okay with him, I don't think I ever will be fully, but I see no problem with you falling for him, Harry. You have incredible judgment about people, and if you're falling for him, then he must have something good in him." She smiled slightly.
"I mean, Nott also did some really bad things, and you're mad at Neville for being in love with him?" Ron asked. "Any of you are?"
"No," Hermione answered quickly, and Harry shook his head, he had never once thought of resenting Neville.
"Harry, Malfoy is already in love with you. If the feeling is mutual, then go for it. We've supported you in everything since we were eleven, even through all the stupid arguments and fights. We've always had each other's backs. It wasn't different with James, and it won't be different with you being in love," Ron said, and Harry felt like crying.
"I love you guys, you know that, right?" Harry said, and Hermione smiled.
"You know, I like how your hormones are making you show your feelings," she said, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'm in therapy too," he reminded her, and her smile widened.
"Don't get pregnant by Malfoy again when James is born, please," Ron requested, and Harry's eyes went wide.
"Oh, no, once is already more than enough," Harry murmured, caressing his belly.
Ron lifted the charms, and Neville sat beside Harry right after, reminding him to keep eating. He didn't try to hide his smile when Draco poured him more pumpkin juice.