The first date they had was on Wednesday night. Harry really wouldn’t call it a date, considering it consisted of Malfoy frotting up against him. But Malfoy did promise that they would get to know each other. Harry still wasn’t happy with the whole situation and he was determined to find a way out of it. Hermione had told him numerous times that he couldn’t, but he didn’t really want to believe it. Malfoy was still his snarky self when they saw each other in corridors, but there was no insults. What was even stranger was the lack of insults from any of the other Slytherins. Harry wondered if Malfoy had talked to them.
It was 6.30pm and Harry had promised Malfoy that he would be at the Room of Requirement at 7pm. It had taken him half an hour to choose the right clothes and now he was looking at himself in the mirror. His jeans were frayed and paled in colour, while his shirt was a button up and long sleeved. It was a dark blue and probably the only decent looking shirt he owned. The others were too informal and not suitable for the weather outside. On top of his dress shirt was a jacket, made of soft wool. His outfit was far from fancy, but it was the only sort of clothing he wore. And he wasn’t out to impress Malfoy anyway. He had tried to tame his hair, but it was to no avail, so he gave up after only five minutes.
“Don’t you look nice?” Hermione entered the eighth year boys’ dormitory and smiled at Harry. She analysed him up and down before nodding in approval. It caused a blush to rise on Harry’s face. “Are you trying to impress him?”
“What?” Harry spluttered. He looked at himself in the mirror again and snorted. “These clothes are terrible. I’m not trying to impress him at all.”
“They are the best you own and you were just trying to fix your hair,” Hermione pointed out with a knowing smile. She walked to Ron’s bed and sat on it beside her boyfriend. Ron chuckled and nodded.
“You should have seen him half an hour ago, he was going insane about what to wear.”
“I was not!” Harry protested, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.
“Harry, you really do need some dressier clothes. Can I take you to Madame Malkin’s? Maybe to get some formal robes and nice dress shirts?” Hermione cocked her head as she surveyed him carefully.
The attention made him feel embarrassed. “I don’t see what’s wrong with my clothes,” Harry tried, shrugging his shoulders as he stared at himself in the mirror. He certainly didn’t look as good as Malfoy did in the fashion department, but he felt comfortable. He must have said it out loud because he saw Hermione and Ron raise an eyebrow at him through the mirror.
“Malfoy does dress quite well, doesn’t he?” Hermione commented with a wider grin.
“Right ponce, he is. Definitely gay.”
“Ron, really. Now you’re just stereotyping,” Hermione huffed and whacked Ron lightly over the back of the head. Ron groaned and rubbed the spot that she hit. “Are you starting to take more notice of him, Harry?”
Harry’s eyes widened at the question. “No!” He exclaimed quickly, far too quickly. “I mean, everyone notices that!”
“Yes, most of the girls are attracted to him,” Hermione nodded, “now that I think about it, I used to hear Lavender and Parvati talk about how nicely he dressed. They thought he was attractive.”
“Who is attractive?”
Harry groaned when Seamus and Dean entered the room. Seamus seemed insulted by it.
“Wow, Harry, I didn’t know our presence was so welcome,” he chuckled as he walked over to his bed. He bounced on it on his knees until he found the right spot and sat down on his arse. “You going on a date or something?”
“No,” Harry said quickly.
“Yes,” Hermione said at the same time.
Harry glared at her. “It’s not a date, Hermione.”
“Technically it is, Harry,” she waved her hand. “A date consists of the two participants getting to know each other. Which you will be doing.”
“Yeah, right after he frots against me until he comes,” Harry muttered darkly.
“He? Woah, I didn’t know you were gay, Harry.” Dean leaned closer to Seamus and patted his thigh. “You owe me five galleons.”
Harry groaned again, louder than before. “You bet I was gay?” He asked as he spun on his heel.
“Well, yeah. I mean, your dates with girls have gone disastrous. Ginny even said you kissed like you weren’t into it. She was the one who told me you might be gay,” he shrugged his shoulders as though it was reason enough.
Ron seemed to pale at the mention of his sister. “Can we not talk about Ginny please?”
Hermione nodded in agreement. “Harry has a date, after all. You better start leaving, Harry.”
Harry licked his lips nervously. He didn’t know if he was ready for this, but he wasn’t going to back out of it. He couldn’t, whether he wanted it or not. Giving his jacket a tug, he glanced at himself once more in the mirror, before turning on his heel and walking out of the room with a wave of goodbye.
As he walked through the common room, he received a few curious glances, but no one said anything. Ginny stared at him for the longest, but he pointedly ignored it. Even though his pace was speedy, the walk to the Room of Requirement felt like it would never end. Harry blamed the nerves that were buzzing through his body. His palms were sweaty and he felt his face heat up. He didn’t understand why, this was just bloody Malfoy that he was going to see, after all.
When he finally reached the hallway that the room was situated in, he closed his eyes and waited. When he opened them, a door replaced the bare wall. He smiled and opened the door and entered. The sight that he was met with was surprising. A dinner table sat in the middle of the room. Above it, candles floated, lighting up the dimly lit area with a soft glow. A yummy smell assaulted Harry’s nostrils and he realized just how hungry he was when his stomach rumbled. Further in the corner was a bed, but Harry refused to look at it. He didn’t want to acknowledge that it even existed. Instead, his eyes returned to the table, where various foods were set out and still steaming hot.
Harry jumped when the door opened behind him and he turned to see Malfoy enter it with a smug smile on his face. The grey eyes darted around the room, before finally resting on Harry.
“How sweet, Potter,” he drawled, “I’m glad you remembered the bed as well.”
Harry’s face flushed and he glared at Malfoy heatedly. “I didn’t do this, Malfoy. I thought it was you. But how stupid was I to think that? You wouldn’t know what nice was if it slapped you in the face.”
Malfoy assessed his appearance from top to bottom before snorting. “I could say the same to you. Don’t you have nicer clothes than that, Potter?”
Harry pulled out his wand from his jacket. “Don’t push me, Malfoy. I can walk away right now if I want to.”
Malfoy sighed. He didn’t say sorry, but the look he gave Harry was enough for him to assume that he would try to avoid insulting him again. Harry nodded, but didn’t return his wand.
“I’m guessing my mother did this,” Malfoy explained. He gestured towards the beautiful table. “After you.”
Harry glowered and stalked over to table. He sat down in one of the chairs. Only then, did he replace his wand. “Your mother is nice.”
“She tries to be. Something about reminding people we are still the Malfoys,” he shrugged as he moved to sit down on the opposite side of Harry. Malfoy watched Harry carefully, as though he was trying to figure him out. It made Harry twitch in his seat.
“She saved my life,” Harry said politely. He avoided looking into Malfoy’s eyes.
“She did,” Malfoy agreed. His voice betrayed an emotion that Harry had never seen in him and he couldn’t resist turning his gaze to stare at him. Malfoy looked proud of his mother and it shined through his smile and eyes.
“She loves you,” Harry tried again. He respected Mrs. Malfoy and he knew that she was a common topic between him and Draco. While he didn’t know her personally, she had shown a loyalty to her son that every mother should have. For that, he could see why she had done what she did. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was a coward.
“Why are we talking about my mother, Potter?”
Harry sighed. “You said you wanted to try, Malfoy. I’m starting a conversation,” he snapped angrily. Merlin, this man infuriated him.
Malfoy was silent for a moment. He finally broke it by exhaling loudly. “What do you see in Finch-Fletchley?” His voice was deadly quiet.
“What?” Harry asked in surprise. He didn’t know that Malfoy was aware of Justin. Sure, when he had woken up in Malfoy’s bed, he had mentioned Justin’s name, but he would never have thought that Malfoy would work it out.
“Finch-Fletchley. You’ve been shagging him before all of this happened. What did you see in him?”
Harry noticed Malfoy’s eyes darken and the corners of his mouth were strained. His hands were on the table, but they were scrunched up in fists so tightly that they turned a shade paler than his normal skin colour. Harry grimaced. “He was the only other gay man that I knew about in Hogwarts. We wanted to experiment. How did you know that we shagged?”
“Don’t underestimate my sources, Potter.” Malfoy shrugged it off, “You feel anything for him? Is that why you asked if you could continue shagging other people?”
Harry sighed impatiently. He glanced down at the food and stabbed some. He didn’t want it going cold. He forced a large amount in his mouth and chewed on it. Malfoy watched him, his face morphing from strained to amusement.
“What?” Harry said when he finally swallowed. “I’m hungry.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
Harry sighed. “I don’t feel anything for him. We were just shagging.”
“And it has ceased?” Malfoy asked quietly. There was an unreadable expression in his face.
Harry swallowed and nodded. It seemed to satisfy Malfoy because he smirked and leant back in his chair. He crossed his arms and with slow, languid movements, his eyes roamed over Harry’s chest. Malfoy couldn’t see below his chest, but Harry couldn’t help but lay a hand on his stomach. He hadn’t vomited since the last time he was with Malfoy, which made him think that it was just from the shock, but he still couldn’t quite believe that there was a baby in there.
“You have to go see Madame Pomfrey tomorrow,” Malfoy said as his gaze zeroed in on the arm that was snaked beneath the table and touching his belly.
“Why?” Harry asked curiously.
“Because you need scans done, to make sure everything is okay with the baby. My mother told me that you have to visit Pomfrey on a regular basis, just so she can keep an eye on the child. You’re pregnancy is going to be harder than normal, Potter, you are having an Incubus’ baby, after all.”
“Oh,” Harry stared down at his very flat belly and frowned. Pregnant. Pregnant. The word seemed foreign on his tongue. “I thought it was too early for a scan?”
“For Muggles, yes, but not for us. I don’t know how they work though, you’ll have to ask Madame Pomfrey. And I want to be there, of course.” Malfoy’s voice was rougher than before.
Harry’s stare darted up to look at the other man. Malfoy’s eyes hadn’t left Harry’s arm, but he seemed less focused on the present. He looked as though he was deep in thought.
Malfoy broke out of his trance and sighed. “Because my Incubus blood is asking for it, Potter. You’re carrying my child. An Incubus’s main priority is their mate and children. My instincts are telling me to be there for you and our baby.”
Our baby. He had expected to hear Malfoy say ‘my baby,’ but he had never expected him to say ‘our baby.’ It was bizarre to hear and Harry wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.
He swallowed. Harry looked away from the blond and ran a hand through his untidy hair. He hated Malfoy, he told himself, he hated him and he should care that all of this was happening. It was happening too quickly. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to find a man later in life that he loved and then he would start a family. If it hadn’t been for the Incubus blood, Malfoy would never have approached Harry to begin with.
He closed his eyes tightly. “Can we just get this over and done with, Malfoy?” Harry asked in a quiet tone. He left the food on the dish and stood. Even though he had only taken one large bite of it, he was suddenly feeling less hungry. “Where do you want me?”
Malfoy seemed surprised. He stared at Harry with confusion. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Harry protested gently.
“You need to eat for the baby, Potter,” Malfoy argued back. He stood from his seat and walked around the table until he stood directly in front of Harry. “Eat,” the command was said lowly. Harry didn’t know what possessed him, but he felt compelled to comply with Malfoy’s – Draco’s – orders. He sat back down at the table and took another spoonful of food and shoved it into his mouth.
Malfoy was satisfied as he sat back down in his own seat. “An Incubus must protect his mate and child at all times, Potter. I’m sorry I compelled you, but I needed you to eat.”
Compel, the word was unfamiliar to him, but he knew what it meant. He knew it meant that Malfoy had used his scent on him so that he would obey his orders. Incubi used their scent only when it was needed in the protection of their child or mate. The compelling wasn't worrying Harry, at least not yet, but the fact that Malfoy apologized for it baffled him. He had never heard him apologize for anything before. It was weird for him to hear.
He ate like he was told to and only when he had finished was he brought back to reality. It felt like a jolt and then Harry was on his feet, wand in hand as he dug the tip of it into Malfoy’s throat. Malfoy didn’t seem surprised, he looked calm and it peeved Harry.
“What did you do to me, Malfoy?” He growled.
“You know what I did to you, Potter,” Malfoy answered tranquilly. He stared directly into Harry’s eyes, unmoving.
“Because you were acting stupid as you usually do. Do I have to remind you that you are feeding two people now, not just one?” Malfoy’s hand whipped out and slapped away Harry’s wand. It was thrown out of his hands and onto the floor, but before Harry could scramble for it, Malfoy had grabbed him and thrown him over his shoulder. Malfoy wasn’t much bigger than he was, but he carried him as though he was as big and strong as Hagrid.
Harry was gently rested on the bed and the kick he sent towards Malfoy was stopped by a hand.
“Stop it, Potter, you’ll hurt yourself.” Malfoy sighed. He sat on the bed next to Harry, but he didn’t make a move towards him, which Harry was grateful for. “I’m not going to force you to do anything, I never would. But I need this because I will lose control.”
“What will happen if you lose control?” Harry asked inquisitively. He rearranged himself so he sat on his arse, his legs crossed beneath him.
“I don’t know,” Malfoy’s voice was low and he sounded frightened. “It was lucky that I found you that day. If I couldn’t find you…well, I don’t know what would’ve happened. Nobody has ever seen a rogue Incubus before.”
“Oh.” Harry licked his lips nervously. He wasn’t comfortable around Malfoy. The man had made his school life hell for seven years and he didn’t see why he should just give Malfoy what he wanted because he needed it to survive. But he couldn’t let him suffer either. “I don’t like you, Malfoy, and I don’t know if I ever will. I’m not comfortable doing anything with you. I mean, Merlin, what would you do if you heard that I needed you for the rest of my life?”
“I would’ve laugh and walk away from you,” Malfoy said honestly. His unusual warm grey eyes turned to stare at Harry. “But you’re a better person than I am, Potter. You’re the Golden Boy.”
“Right. I am
.” Harry closed his eyes for the briefest moment. He just wished that for once, he could be selfish over this. “I can’t touch you. Not yet. But I want this to work in some way. Merlin knows why. You can hump against me or something if you want.”
Malfoy smirked. “You make me sound like a Crup, Potter.”
“Well, you’re basically an animal, right?”
Malfoy shook his head. “Are you that dense?” At the look Harry gave him, Malfoy continued. “Incubi are demons, not animals. We do have animistic traits though.” A pink tongue darted out of his mouth and traced his pale lips. Harry’s eyes followed it. “I just need your touch. And right now, if that means through clothing and rutting against you, it will do.”
Harry nodded shortly and lifted himself up on his knees. He turned so he was resting on all fours and looked over his shoulder at Malfoy. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, spreading his legs so the other man could kneel between them. Malfoy followed Harry’s actions until he had positioned himself behind Harry. His hands gripped his hips as he shuffled forward. Harry bit his lip to stop the cry of surprise escaping his mouth when Malfoy’s crotch rubbed up against his arse. Just mere seconds ago, Malfoy was soft, but now Harry could feel that he was far from that.
The hard bulge brushed his arse every time Malfoy thrust his hips forward. The fingernails on his hips dug into the shirt and Harry felt them leaving an impression on his skin as well. There weren’t many words, just grunts and moans from Malfoy. Harry was even sure there was some from him, but he would never admit it.
“Potter, are you hard?”
Harry sighed and clenched his eyelids shut tightly. He snaked his hand downwards and grasped the bulge in his own pants. He couldn’t deny the attraction that coursed through his body. His blood was rushing south, straight to his cock. “Piss off, Malfoy.”
Malfoy grunted behind him as the bulge pressed against his clothed arse. “I can’t – Potter, I need to get out of these pants. I can’t come when they bloody cut off my circulation.”
Harry wanted to snap back. He wanted to tell Malfoy that it wasn’t his problem that he wore such tight trousers, but instead he grumbled an ‘all right’. Malfoy’s presence behind him was gone for a short moment, but Harry was too busy rubbing his own erection to care about it. He ran his hand over his sensitive clothed cock, before making a quick decision. He reached down to unbutton and unzip his jeans, and slipped his stiff arousal out of his pants. His hand wrapped around it and he pulled at it, groaning at the feeling.
“Shit, Potter, that’s hot. Let me touch you,” Malfoy was practically whining like a dog.
“No,” Harry hissed in return, looking over his shoulder to glare at Malfoy. “Just get yourself off.”
Malfoy didn’t protest. He moved forward and Harry took note that his trousers were halfway down his thighs. His cock was bobbing free, drops of semen forming at the head of it. It almost made Harry whimper with desire. Almost. This was still Malfoy and he wasn’t going to give in, not again.
Malfoy aligned himself behind Harry again and he smirked down at him. It caused Harry to flush and turn his gaze away from the large erection. He wasn’t going to let Malfoy know the sight made his mouth water.
And then the thrusting started again. This time, Harry could feel the firm erection rubbing persistently against the crease of his clothed arse cheeks.
He pushed his arse back, the hand on his own cock moving in rhythm with the thrusts. One of Malfoy’s hands pushed his shirt up, touching his bare back, while the other left his hip. Harry tensed as it slithered around his stomach. He was so sure that Malfoy was going to try and touch his cock, but he didn’t. Instead, his hand slipped beneath the front of Harry’s shirt and tenderly caressed his flat stomach.
Harry moaned at the touch and it didn’t take long before his hips were frantically jerking forward and he was coming over the duvet of the bed. Malfoy didn’t last long after him.
“Malfoy, don’t come on me,” Harry growled, but it was too late and he grimaced when he felt the semen coat his back. He was sure the sticky substance was coating his pants and shirt as well.
Malfoy snorted behind him. “You should have given me a little more warning, Potter.”
Harry snapped his teeth together and reached down to push himself back into his pants. He zipped himself up and scampered across the bed, away from the other man. He turned on his heel and glowered at him. “Did you actually think I wanted your come on me, Malfoy?”
Malfoy shrugged and reached down to pull up his trousers. Harry purposely looked away, refusing to even glance at the softening cock. “You know, Potter, pregnant people get horny. You’re going to want me eventually.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Or, you know, I could just go get Justin to shag me.” As soon as it left his mouth, Harry knew it had said the wrong thing. Before he could blink, he was against the wall, Malfoy’s angry, cold grey eyes staring heatedly into his own. His hand was encircling his neck. It wasn’t tight, but it did hold him there.
“I’d watch your words if I were you, Potter. I may not be able to hurt you, but I will have no problem hurting your friend. Can he shag you when I’ve ripped off his cock?”
Harry swallowed and shook his head. Malfoy looked increasingly scary, with his dark silver eyes and scowl. He hadn’t really changed in appearance, except for the eyes, but there was something darker, scarier, about him.
“Then watch what you say to me.” Malfoy released him and took a step back. He huffed and smoothed down his clothes, refusing to look at Harry. “I shall see you at the Hospital Wing, tomorrow. Make an appointment with Madame Pomfrey and owl me the time.” When he finally raised his eyes, they were his normal colour. The scarier version of him had disappeared.
“Whatever, Malfoy,” Harry snapped, regaining his confidence. “Just piss off, you git.”
Malfoy stared at him for a moment, before a smirk formed on his face. “Thanks for getting me off, Potter. It relieved a whole lot of stress.”
Harry picked up the nearest thing he could find, a clock that chimed at that exact moment, and threw it at Malfoy. He dodged it with ease. It hit the wall and with a large bang and smashed into pieces, falling to the floor. Harry crossed his arms and stared at the smug man.
“I had a lovely night too, Potter,” Malfoy barked with laughter as he made it to the exit and out the door before Harry could throw anything else.
Merlin, he hated that man.
→→→ Chapter Four