Harry groaned as the darkness receded. His eyelids flickered as they adjusted to the light of the room. His back was sore, he noticed. It ached from the top of his neck, to the bottom, close to his arse. It wasn’t a harsh pain, but it was far from pleasant.
Harry turned his head and blinked owlishly. Hermione and Ron sat in chairs beside the bed. Hermione leaned forward and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was a relieved, but sad one. It worried Harry.
“What happened?” He asked quietly, glancing around the room. He was in the hospital wing. There were two other students in beds, but besides them, the room was empty.
“Do you remember Malfoy, Harry?” Hermione inquired in a hushed tone.
Harry frowned as he thought about it. He remembered talking to Hermione and Ron and then he was grabbed. His eyes widened and he choked. His throat was parched and the thought about what happened only made it more difficult to breathe. Ron stood quickly and grabbed a glass of water that sat on the bedside table. He handed it to Harry. Harry took it gratefully and swallowed large amounts of it until he realized that if he drank any more, he’d be sick.
He gave it back to Ron, who settled the glass back down. Harry closed his eyes and groaned. He slapped a hand on his forehead.
“Harry? Did you and Malfoy…?” Ron cleared his throat. Harry didn’t open his eyes; he didn’t want to see the look on his best friends’ faces.
He decided to save Ron the trouble from continuing. “Yes, Malfoy and I shagged. But that was a week ago.”
“Harry, look at us,” Hermione ordered.
He knew now was not the time to disobey her. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted with looks of pity. He hated it. “Is that what caused this?” He shook his head. “I don’t even remember it. Bloody hell, why does this always happen to me?”
“Harry, listen to us,” Hermione squeezed his hand tighter, “this was not your fault. You don’t remember your night with Malfoy for a reason. Ron,” she cocked her head at her boyfriend, “he can explain this.”
“Ron?” Harry looked at the red head in shock.
Ron snorted. “Don’t look so surprised.” He shrugged languidly. “He’s an Incubus, mate. Malfoy is, I mean.”
“I know,” Harry whispered. He remembered what happened. He remembered everything he felt, he remembered everything he thought. Even now, he grew hard just thinking about it and he hated himself for it. Thank Merlin for the blankets. He needed to think about something else: Snape in a tutu. It did the trick. His erection withered in response to the image. “I mean, when Malfoy was…I just knew what he was.”
Ron nodded. “You’re supposed to.” He groaned and let his head drop in his hands. “Mum is going to go off her tree about this. She’s going to kill me.”
Harry frowned. “Ron?” He drew his hand back from Hermione’s grip and reached out to grasp his friend’s shoulder. He squeezed it.
Ron didn’t raise his head. Instead, he just continued. “Malfoy is an Incubus, mate. There hasn’t been one in over two hundred years. I mean, the Incubus blood runs in all Pureblood families. I guess you could say that that’s how witchcraft was born.” He finally raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. “Incubi bred with humans. They were demons and when their blood mixed with humans – Muggles – the babies that were born from the union were born with magic. So, all Purebloods have Incubus blood in them. But the genes have been dormant for so long. Incubus genes can’t – don’t – aren’t the dominant gene. The magic is dominant. It’s rare for the Incubus blood to show at all.”
Harry snorted. He was used to rare. He was the only person to survive the killing curse, after all. “And? What does this have to do with me?”
“When Purebloods are children, they are told a fairytale about the Incubus and his mate. The story goes that the Incubus was lonely and so he went out searching for his one and only: his soul mate. The Incubus came across a pretty maiden and fell in love with her. He realized that she loved him just as much and so they started a life together. On their first union, the maiden fell pregnant. The Incubus was protective of his soul mate and their unborn child. He did everything in his power to protect them. When a wizard came to take her as his own, he touched the maiden’s shoulder. Out of anger and jealousy and protectiveness, the Incubus killed the wizard for daring to touch what was his.”
“What’s the point of this children’s fairytale?” Harry snapped. He didn’t see the point of listening to it if it wasn’t going to help him in the long run.
“Harry, the point of the fairytale is that it tells you about Incubi. The children of Pureblood families have been told the story since the days when full blooded Incubi roamed the world. They were told the story to protect them from making a stupid mistake like touching an Incubus’ mate while they are in the bonding process,” Hermione explained quickly. She glanced at Ron, who nodded in agreement.
“Mate, this story is like the story Muggle children get told–”
“Like Snow White or Cinderella. Where the prince is the hero,” Hermione cut in quickly, sending Ron an apologetic look.
“Yeah, whatever those are. To the Pureblood birds–” Hermione sent Ron a glare, she really hated that term, “I mean females, an Incubus approaching them and claiming they’re his mate is a dream come true. Even Ginny used to go on when she was younger about an Incubus coming and claiming she was his mate and taking her away to be happy and start a family. It was bloody hilarious at the time.”
Harry frowned. He let go of Ron’s shoulder and sat up further in the bed, ignoring the twinging pain in his back. “So what? An Incubus is like the Pureblood version of a prince?”
Hermione nodded and smiled. “At least, that’s what I’ve taken them as. That’s how Ron explained it.”
“Fantastic,” Harry said sarcastically. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. “So basically I’m Malfoy’s pretty little maiden?”
“Definitely not pretty, mate.” Ron dodged Hermione’s hand. He chuckled. “I was joking, ‘Mione. I mean, Malfoy must think Harry is his pretty little maiden.”
“Not helping, Ronald,” she snapped. She stood from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She managed to grab Harry’s hand again and patted it. “Harry, there is something else…”
Harry groaned. He thought this was enough information to process without there being more. And he had a feeling that it only got worse. “What is it?”
“Well…” Hermione pursed her lips and her eyes travelled from Harry’s face, down his neck and chest until she stared at his belly. Harry’s eyes followed hers. “When an Incubus finally bonds with his mate for the first time, they impregnate their mate.”
“Which…wouldn’t happen to me because I’m a bloke, yeah?” Harry asked hopefully. He knew it was a useless attempt. He had heard about men in the Wizarding World falling pregnant. He wasn’t stupid. He had done his research on gay sex; he had been a curious teenager after all.
Hermione frowned. “Well, um. With wizards, male pregnancy isn’t unheard of in the magic world.”
Harry groaned loudly, causing the two other students in the room to look at them. He glared, making them avert their gazes quickly. “Hermione,” he snapped quietly, “you’re telling me that Malfoy has knocked me up?”
“Yeah, mate, he did,” Ron answered for Hermione. “You’re up the duff. You’re going to get fat.”
“Ronald, really!” Hermione huffed as she looked fiercely at him. “Have a little more consideration.”
Harry shook his head furiously. “No, Hermione. I needed a straight answer. So what the hell happens now? Where’s Malfoy? Did he faint too?” So many questions were running through his head.
Hermione nodded. “He fainted. But he wasn’t out for as long as you. He left early. His parents are here, Harry, and we can’t say much more because they want to talk to you about it.”
He snorted. He could just imagine Lucius Malfoy’s face when he was told that Harry Potter was his son’s mate. Malfoy would have been furious. “Fantastic. Just fantastic. Are they going to tell me why the hell I can’t remember how I got to the stage of shagging Malfoy? If I had known all of this, I bloody wouldn’t have left the Gryffindor common room, now would I?”
Ron snorted. “I hear you, mate. But nobody would have known except Malfoy. The bloody git wouldn’t have known what was wrong though. He probably thought he was going crazy after he started getting the urge to pounce on top of you and shag you.” He cleared his throat, a sign of his growing awkwardness about the subject.
Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Harry, an Incubus cannot act on their mate unless their mate shares a similar attraction towards them. Which means, Malfoy was attracted to you before this, and you were just as attracted to Malfoy.”
“That’s bollocks, Hermione,” Harry exclaimed, holding up his hands in defence of himself. “I never felt any attraction to that pointy chin git.”
“I don’t know, mate, you were pretty obsessed with him in sixth year,” Ron offered.
Harry glared at him. “Because I knew he was up to something. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Oh stop this,” Hermione snapped. “Harry, you were attracted to him whether you care to admit it or not. Being that, Malfoy’s Incubus blood took control. You were both in dream state when you had sexual intercourse. That means that he would have called out to you, as an Incubus would, and it put you in that state. Malfoy would not have remembered it either because he was in that state already.”
Harry grunted. Great. That was exactly
what he needed to hear. “And now I have to go see Incubus Snr?”
Hermione huffed. “Yes, now get up and get dressed.”
Harry knew he didn’t have a choice. He drew the curtains closed when Hermione and Ron stood outside of them and started to get dressed. He removed the pyjamas he was put in and grabbed the clothes that Hermione had left on the bedside table. Before putting on a shirt, Harry stared down at his belly. It was hard to believe that there was a baby growing in there. It had only been a week since Malfoy and he had shagged, so he knew it would be a while before he saw any change in his appearance, but with the lack of physical proof, Harry didn’t quite believe it.
His fingers caressed the skin and he sighed. He didn’t like this at all, but if he was pregnant, he knew that he was stuck in this rut whether he liked it or not. He wasn’t going to get rid of the baby. Harry never really imagined himself with a family so young. He knew that one day he would have found a man that he wanted to marry and have children with, he just didn’t expect it to be when he was eighteen. And he certainly didn’t expect it to be with Malfoy.
“Harry, are you okay?”
He sighed at Hermione’s voice. He slipped on his shirt and opened the curtains. “Fine,” he answered sombrely. “Let’s get this over and done with.”
The walk to McGonagall’s office was quiet. Every so often, Hermione would look at Harry and open her mouth, only to snap it closed again and return her gaze forward. It happened three or four times before they finally reached the statue. Hermione muttered the password and Harry led the way. When they reached the door, he knocked lightly.
“Come in, Potter.”
Harry pursed his lips and opened the door. He resisted the urge to turn and walk back out when he saw the faces he was dreading to see. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy sat on the chairs to the right, with their son sitting in the middle of them. They all stared at him carefully. Malfoy’s lips were pressed together tightly and after only a short time of staring, he looked away. It irked Harry. It was his fault they were in this situation; the least he could do was look at him.
“Sit down, Potter,” McGonagall said lightly. He could hear the concern in her voice.
Harry nodded shortly and walked over to the left of the room, where another three chairs sat. He sat in the middle one, with his best friends sitting on either side of him. Hermione grabbed his hand for moral support and Harry smiled thankfully.
A growl sounded through the room. Hermione’s hand darted away from Harry and she glanced at him apologetically. It caused anger to rise in Harry’s chest.
“Shut up, Malfoy,” he hissed angrily.
Malfoy snorted and crossed his arms, but didn’t speak. His mother did that for him. “Mr. Potter, thank you for coming today.”
“I didn’t get a choice, did I?” Harry cursed himself for sounding so impolite. The woman had saved his life, yet that didn’t stop the feelings of turmoil burning in his stomach.
Mrs. Malfoy nodded in understanding. “This has come as a surprise to all of us, Mr. Potter, including Draco. As I am sure Mr. Weasley told you, there hasn’t been an Incubus in well over two hundred years. When Draco owled us after he woke, we were just as shocked as Headmistress McGonagall and your friends.”
“It’s not as if we wanted you as our son-in-law,” Lucius Malfoy drawled in a deep voice. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “this is not pleasant for any of us, Potter.”
“Lucius, please,” Mrs. Malfoy sent an exasperated glance towards her husband. Harry saw her lean behind her son and he swore he heard her whisper something about handling the situation with politeness. Mr. Malfoy only scoffed, but didn’t comment. Mrs. Malfoy seemed satisfied with the outcome and turned back to Harry.
“I apologize, Mr. Potter. Draco is having as hard a time dealing with this as well. If I may say, he may even be having a harder time than you.” She reached over to pat her son’s very tense arm.
“He’s not the knocked up one, is he?” Harry scowled at Malfoy. He hated him even more for getting him pregnant.
Mrs. Malfoy nodded. “That’s true. But even pregnant, you will still be yourself to a certain extent. Draco, on the other hand, will become more protective and possessive. He will forget every mannerism he was taught in order to be a provider for you. He will growl at people who touch you, as you saw, and he will injure or even kill if it means your protection. You could say that he will possess a more animalistic attitude until you have your child.”
Harry frowned. His hand unconsciously moved to his belly and he splayed a palm over it. Malfoy watched him carefully, his head cocked. It was strange; to think that Malfoy would actually act protective of him. The man had been nothing but the opposite since the beginning of their first year. Not to mention, Malfoy had been too frightened to disobey Voldemort, how was he supposed to protect Harry and this child if he was tormented by fear?
“There is no way out of this, is there?” Harry asked quietly. He looked at Headmistress McGonagall, who shook her head curtly.
“No, there is not, Potter.”
Harry nodded. He glanced from Hermione to Ron, who both refused to meet his eye, and sighed. “Malfoy and I hate each other.”
Mrs. Malfoy chuckled at this. “I do not believe this is so, Mr. Potter. There needs to be attraction there, or even longing, for the bonding ceremony of an Incubus and his mate to happen. If there was not, an Incubus would spend years creating a connection with their mate. You and Draco already had something for it to work so quickly.”
Harry sniffed. “I hardly know your son, Mr. Malfoy.”
“Apparently, you know him well enough.” Mrs. Malfoy smiled at him. Her deep blue eyes stared at him and he shifted uncomfortably under the look. It felt like she was staring into his soul. “You are carrying my grandchild, Mr. Potter. As such, Lucius and I will protect you against all threats. You are to become a Malfoy, after all.” Harry opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off by continuing. “You and Draco may not see eye to eye as of yet, but you will. We have all agreed that it would be best if you get to know each other.”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not really your choice to make,” he barked angrily.
“Yes, it is, Potter.” McGonagall stood from behind her desk and walked around the front of it. “I do not agree with this either, however it is nature and there is no way to fight it. Professor Dumbledore,” she turned to gaze at the painting of the old headmaster, who smiled around the lemon drop he was sucking on, “believes it is a good idea. It is a joined union. The former Death Eaters are becoming restless. With the Malfoys protecting you, there is less chance of an attack.”
“But Professor, this is for life,” Harry sat forward on his chair and looked up at her pleadingly. “I’m pregnant.”
“Yes and it has come at an unfortunate time,” McGonagall sighed, “but none the less, Potter, it has happened.”
“It has given the boy another reason to whinge,” came a nasty sneer.
Harry glared behind the Malfoys at the portrait of Professor Snape. He respected the man, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t detest him as well. “I don’t whinge. You try finding out you're pregnant with your enemy’s child.”
“Severus,” McGonagall warned, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the portrait.
“I’m not your enemy, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. “I don’t like this any more than you, but it’s done.”
“Yeah, well how about you get fat with my baby. Let’s see how you like that!” Harry snapped. He stood from his seat, but Hermione’s hand only pulled him back down again.
“Fortunately, Potter,” a smirk formed on his face, “you’re the only one who will be pregnant in this little joke. Incubi are dominant and you do look like a bottom boy to me.”
Harry stood too quickly for Hermione to grab him this time and he pulled out his wand. In two strides, he had the tip of his wand pressed into Malfoy’s neck. He noticed that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy never stopped him; instead, they stood and backed away. He heard a noise of surprise and he had a feeling that Ron had pulled Hermione backwards as she moved towards Harry.
“I’m not a bottom boy, Malfoy.”
Malfoy stared up at him, his smirk growing larger. Before Harry could move, Malfoy stood and grabbed him. He pushed him onto McGonagall’s desk, items flying off it as Harry’s back slammed onto it. Malfoy was on top of him, holding him down with his weight.
“Yes you are, Potter. All Incubus mates are, male or female. You’re my bottom boy. You’re going to stick your arse up in the air every time you see me. You’re going to beg me to shag you into the bed. You’re going to want to be knocked up with my child all the time.” Malfoy leaned over to whisper into Harry’s ear. His hot breath sent shivers down Harry’s spine. “Did I tell you Incubi and their mates usually have more than five children. It’s because they crave children. And Incubi mark their claim on their mate by having them full with child all the time. How do you like that idea, Potter?”
Harry swallowed. “Get off me, Malfoy,” he whispered. He wasn’t quite sure that’s what he wanted, not with his current growing erection. It was going to get embarrassing, especially with not only Malfoy’s parents around, but with Hermione, Ron and McGonagall too.
“Do you really want that, Potter?”
Harry jumped when he felt Malfoy’s tongue trace the shell of his ear. His eyelashes fluttered and he licked his lips. His mouth suddenly felt dry. “No,” he said before he comprehended the word that came out of his mouth. Malfoy chuckled deep in his chest as he pulled away so Harry could see his face.
“That’s what I thought, Potter.” And then his weight was gone.
Harry’s senses came back to him and he flushed red. He stood and growled at a laughing Malfoy. Everyone else stood to the side of the room, a couple of them were watching carefully. Ron’s face was particularly red, while Hermione’s gaze darted anywhere but at them. The Malfoys didn’t seem to have a problem watching and McGonagall seemed a little dazed at the scene before her.
“Bugger off, Malfoy,” he hissed furiously. He straightened his mussed clothing.
“As much as I would love to, Potter, unfortunately, I need you to wank me off,” Malfoy leered.
“Really, Mr. Malfoy, a little more decorum if you would please,” McGonagall stepped forward. “Potter, there is much you have to learn about Incubi and their mate. Most is usually learnt through growing up, but as you are not a Pureblood and you grew up with Muggles, your knowledge on this subject is limited. I’ve given Miss Granger a book on the matter and I’m sure she’ll help you read through it.” It was another way of her saying that Hermione would explain everything to him, he knew it.
“And I would be pleased to answer any questions you have, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Malfoy smiled as she took a few steps forward. “And Draco would be free to as well. Seeing as you will be seeing each other more often, there is always time for questions and such.”
Harry heard the portrait of Snape snort and he turned to glare at the offending man. He shook his head. “Will I be wanking Malfoy off once a week? It’s not about getting to know each other, is it? It’s about Malfoy coming.”
McGonagall sighed. She strode around her desk and pulled out her wand. Muttering a spell, she watched the objects that fell off her desk return to their previous spot. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy does need sexual release, yes. However, we wish for you to get to know each other as well.”
“Wait,” Harry frowned at the headmistress. “So I don’t have to wank him off? I mean, he could just rut against me like before? I don’t have to touch him?”
McGonagall’s lip quirked upwards and she nodded. “Sexual release is all Mr. Malfoy needs. Isn’t that correct?” Her sharp gaze turned to Malfoy.
He sniffed indignantly at the question and waved his hand at Harry. “Whatever, as long as I get off twice a week.”
“Twice a week?” Harry’s jaw dropped open. “I thought it was once a week?”
“No, Mr. Potter. Twice a week. Once a week is the maximum amount of time he can control his Incubus side. As you saw, if he leaves it once a week he could lose control as he did today. Losing control isn’t a good thing for Draco.” Mrs. Malfoy didn’t act as though any of this bothered her. Harry suspected that she may even enjoy the look of embarrassment on his face. She was talking about her son’s sex life like anyone else would talk about the weather.
“And what about my sex life? I can have one of those, right?” Harry could feel his face flush, but he didn’t let his discomfort show. He wouldn’t show weakness to these people. He heard a noise of surprise from Ron’s throat, but he ignored his friend. He knew how awkward he must have been feeling. Harry felt sorry for him.
“Not unless it’s with me, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. A smug smirk lazily tugged at his lips. He sat in his recently vacant chair and crossed his legs. The git looked too smug for his own good.
“You can’t tell me who I can shag, Malfoy,” Harry replied. He wasn’t going to let Malfoy bully him around. He didn’t control his sex life.
“On the contrary, Potter, I can.” Malfoy raised an eyebrow challengingly.
“What my son means to say, Mr. Potter, is that he is very possessive and an Incubus does not share his mate.” Mrs. Malfoy’s smile was strained. “Basically, you are in it together for life.”
“And what happens if Harry does engage in sexual activity with someone else?” Hermione finally spoke up. She stepped closer to Harry, but didn’t touch him. Her face looked strained, but when she saw him looking, she tried her hardest to smile. He smiled back. At least he knew he had his friends to rely on.
“If Potter cares about them, he better not. Because I will kill,” Malfoy shrugged. His voice was calm and it made it eerie because he was talking about killing someone. But then again, Harry never did trust the Malfoys.
“Draco, please. You’re as bad as your father, really.” Mrs. Malfoy clasped her hands together as she stared disapprovingly at her son. “Mr. Potter, Incubi are creatures who settle for one person for their entire life. They expect the same from their mate.”
“And of course, Potter, if you cheat, Draco will have no problem with killing them. It does state in the law that he has every right.” Snape chuckled knowingly. Mr. Malfoy snorted gently, most likely to hide his own laughter. Harry glared at both of them. His eyes moved from the portrait to the blond haired man, before he shook his head in exasperation.
“This is too much. First, you tell me Malfoy is an Incubus,” he waved his hand at Malfoy, who sat languidly in the chair, “then you tell me that we shagged and he knocked me up because we’re attracted to each other.” His hand movements grew more exaggerated and his voice grew louder. He heard some of the former headmasters murmur about his ‘rudeness.’ “And now you’re telling me that I have to get Malfoy off twice a week and I can’t get shagged by…” He trailed off and groaned. “This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.”
He ran out the door. He ignored the calls that followed him. He didn’t want to hear about this anymore. He just knew that he had to get out of there. He needed to breathe and he couldn’t while he was surrounded by all those people.
He ran until he couldn’t run any longer and collapsed on the ground. His knees hit the cement hard and he groaned. A sick feeling rolled in his stomach and he grabbed his middle, gagging. He was bent over, and the one hand and two knees holding him up felt as though they were about to give way. When he was sure they were going to, two arms wrapped around his stomach, holding him still. He retched and then before he could stop himself, the contents of his stomach made its way up his throat. He vomited onto the ground beneath him. It happened about three times before he felt better.
He was moved away from the vomit and rested on the ground. Harry closed his eyes, wishing away all of his problems. He knew who was beside him, he could smell him.
“What shampoo do you use for your hair?” Harry asked without opening his eyes. He didn’t want to see his face. He wanted to pretend he was talking to someone else. Maybe Justin. Justin…He didn’t want Malfoy to hurt his friend.
“I make it. It’s a potion,” Malfoy drawled.
“A potion for your hair?” Harry questioned disbelievingly. He finally managed to gain the courage to open his eyes. Malfoy sat beside him, watching him carefully.
“Potter, you and I never really saw eye to eye–”
“You think?” Harry snapped. Maybe he should close his eyes again.
“But come on, before this, we were getting along.”
Harry really wouldn’t call it getting along. It was more about avoiding each other. If he was honest with himself though, Harry could admit that they did have civil conversations. They had worked with each other in a Potions class once. Slughorn had paired them up. Malfoy had actually been nice and explained how things worked.
“Why did this happen?” Harry groaned and fell on his back so he was lying on the cold cement. His head hit the stone with a loud thump.
“Careful, Potter.” Malfoy actually looked concerned as he stared at Harry. “I don’t know. Can’t explain it really, but listen, it’s happened and you’re pregnant with my kid. We should make something out of it, right? Can you imagine our bloodlines mixed? Our kids will be powerful.”
Harry grunted. “Malfoy, it’s not about power. It’s about a child. A child we have to raise and love. How are we supposed to do that when we don’t care for each other?”
Malfoy looked insulted at those words. He sniffed. “Potter, we were obviously attracted to each other for the bonding to occur. So why don’t you just admit that you wanted me too?”
Harry sat back up and crossed his arms. “You admit that you are attracted to me?”
Malfoy looked anywhere but at him. There wasn’t much to look at, not when everything around them was stone. There weren’t even any portraits on the walls. So he looked at his shoes. “Maybe; you’re not the worst looking person around.” He shook his head, displacing some of his perfectly styled hair. Harry had to resist from reaching up and tucking it back in its place. “Either way, Potter, we’re here. We should at least try, yeah?”
Harry frowned. His eyes travelled to his vomit and he grimaced. Malfoy must have seen what he was looking at because he raised his wand and spelled it away. “I was sick.”
“You’re pregnant, Potter,” Malfoy raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Vomiting comes with it.”
“But I’m only a week along.” Harry paled. “You don’t think something is wrong, do you?”
“No. Some people start vomiting earlier than others. I read about it in…You know what, it’s probably just shock. I mean, our lives just changed permanently.” Malfoy cleared his throat. Harry couldn’t help the smirk. So Malfoy was already reading up about pregnancy. “Anyway, are we going to work at this together or what?”
Harry sighed. “You’re a git, Malfoy. You’re rude, selfish and spoilt. My child will not be like that, are we understood? And you’ll stay being nice to my friends.”
Malfoy snorted, but nodded none the less. “Deal, Potter. And we meet on Saturday and Wednesday nights, yeah?”
Harry licked his lips. He stared at Malfoy and noted the anticipation in his eyes. They were a funny colour, his eyes. He didn’t know why this was the first time he was really noticing them. They were grey, but had a flick of blue in them, and yet they still held certain warmness to them. It was only very small flick of blue, but it was there. He had beautiful eyes. Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What about homework, Malfoy?”
Malfoy smirked. “I’ll help you with it.”
Harry hesitated, before nodding. Just what has he gotten himself into?
→→→ Chapter Three