Randominity

Title: Hexed! Chapter 2/9
Author: randominity
Pairing: Harry/Draco (HP FPS)
Rating: PG this installment
Feedback: OMG please. I beg!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to one J.K. Rowling, who would find me far too poor to sue over this.
Author's Notes: Mucho gracias to cincodemaygirl and misskittye for their oh-so-generous beta work! Oh yeah, and this is an MPREG. So, you know. Whatever.
Story thus far: Chapters 1//2//3//4//5//6//7//8//9





When Harry arrived at the hospital wing the next morning, Malfoy was already waiting for him. "You're late," Malfoy said irritably.

"I am not," Harry retorted, and knew he was right; he had just checked the clock in the courtyard on his way in, and he had had several minutes to spare. "Listen, Malfoy," he said, in case he wouldn't get a chance later, "I'm sorry I buggered up the hex, all right? Especially since all I wanted to do was shut your mouth and believe me, that would be really nice right about now. But stop acting like I did this on purpose. We both knew we were aiming to injure back there, it's just that I--"

"It's just that you went off casting spells when you're completely incompetent," Malfoy snapped at him fiercely, "and this is what you've landed us in. I really wish you'd just killed me, Potter - it would save my father and myself the trouble."

"Your father's in Azkaban, so he can't do a thing about it," Harry snapped, and the lines around Malfoy's mouth tightened.

"There are plenty of others," Malfoy hissed, "who would be glad to carry out my father's wishes, you know."

"As if my friends would be any happier about it," Harry said sullenly, thinking of what the Weasleys and Remus would say when they found out. He fought the urge to add that at least Malfoy had family that could disapprove of the pregnancy. The Dursleys, if they ever even found out, couldn't possibly care less. Sirius... Sirius would have had a fit. Harry was almost relieved that he wouldn't have to break the news to his late godfather, but at the same time, it made him miss Sirius all the more. Sirius would know what to do, what to say, would be angry right along with Harry, for Harry's sake.

"Riiight," Malfoy drawled, arching an eyebrow. "Tell me, Potter: how many members of your family can cast Avada Kedavra?"

A chill went down Harry's spine at that: the thought of a family of Death Eaters and sympathizers all willing and able to kill at the smallest step out of line. Well, he thought, it takes one to know one. And it wasn't as though Voldemort himself was after Malfoy's head. "At any rate," Harry said, "they'll be coming after me, anyway, for doing this to you. You and your precious reputation don't have anything to worry about."

"You just don't get it, do you," Malfoy said coldly. He drew himself up to his full height, which was about an inch shorter than Harry. "I'm soiled goods now, Potter. I'm carrying the same half-blood filth that the Dark Lord is working right now to destroy. And not just any half-blood filth, but Harry Potter's half-blood filth. So unless Granger can come up with some sort of magical miracle in six weeks or less, I assure you, Potter, saving my reputation is going to be the least of my worries."

"Gentlemen?" Madame Pomfrey poked her head out from between the great doors leading into the infirmary before Harry could reply. "We need to discuss a few things, if you'll just step inside."

When they'd all been seated, Pomfrey turned to Malfoy. "Draco." She regarded him like he'd become ill with something fatal. "Have you had any time to think about what you want to do about your condition?"

"Well, yes, and naturally I want to be rid of it," Malfoy said matter-of-factly, leaning back in his chair. Harry watched him in amazement. He wanted to be rid of the problem as well, but the way Malfoy had put it had seemed so... cold. It was as if the passion for the subject that Malfoy had expressed earlier had been an anomaly.

Madame Pomfrey inclined her head sadly. "Now, I'm sure you know that's nearly imposs--"

"What I know," Malfoy emphasized, "is that there's no magical reversal for the Imprevius spell; I understand that. But I also know that there are... potions. Incantations, abortificants. Things you can do to... end pregnancies. That's what I'm interested in. I've already done some reading on the subject, you know."

"I don't have any say in this, do I," Harry suddenly realized. He looked between Pomfrey and Malfoy.

"Of course not!" Draco said sharply, at the same time Pomfrey said, "we're just exploring the options at this stage, Harry."

Turning back to Malfoy, Pomfrey added, "yes, there are various methods of abortificants available to witches; however, due to the particular circumstances of your pregnancy--"

Malfoy came dangerously close to scowling.

"--there is no way to predict how those potions or spells might affect you or the pregnancy, Draco. Never has Imprevius been cast on a man, so it was unexpected that you should have successfully become pregnant in the first place. Using an abortificant intended for non-magical pregnancies could cause all sorts of complications, like hemorrhaging, paralysis, stroke, shock--"

"Death?" Harry asked.

"--Death, yes," Pomfrey said.

"What if I'm willing to take that chance?" Malfoy asked.

"This isn't worth dying over, Malfoy," Harry cried.

"I'll end up dying either way," Malfoy said loudly.

"Boys!" Madame Pomfrey clapped her hands to draw their attention. "Furthermore," she went on, "you would still be left with the female sex characteristics, which, I remind you, doctors have not managed to successfully transfigure into male sex organs on any consistent basis. And should a counter-spell for Imprevius be discovered in the future, the absence of an embryo could very well render the spell ineffective."

Her face softened. "You could," she offered gently, "consider having the child--"

"No," Malfoy said immediately, and Harry shook his head in agreement. Pomfrey hadn't looked at him once during this exchange, and now he cleared his throat uneasily.

"Um," he said, "whatever he decides is probably. I mean, it should really be up to him, right?" he asked, relinquishing control he wasn't sure he'd ever had.

She looked sympathetically between them. "There are other options, of course," she said, "but perhaps you should see Professor Dumbledore before you consider any course of action any further." She hastily sealed two slips of paper and handed them to each of them. "See him now," she urged them. "I'll be here for any questions when you return."

"Would you really rather die over this?" Harry asked softly on the way to Dumbledore's office.

Malfoy scoffed. "It's hardly a goal of mine," he said, "not to mention the fact that dying whilst having an abortion would defeat the whole purpose of keeping the--" Malfoy pressed his lips together-- "--this whole thing - a secret."

"Either way, you're disgraced," Harry murmured in understanding.

"I'd rather be disgraced alive than disgraced dead," Malfoy agreed, a bit of morbidity in his tone. "But I'd also rather die on my own terms than on the end of somebody's wand."

"Maybe Hermione will come up with something before this all becomes an issue," Harry said. His strides and Malfoy's were matched evenly, but they were gradually speeding up in synch and he could feel his breaths coming with more effort.

"Yes, well," Malfoy said, "I'd rather not rest my future on the well-worked hands of your Mudblood, if it's all the same to you."

Harry stopped short, finally allowing himself the freedom to pant. He ached to reach for his wand, but common sense stayed his hands this time. "She's doing this for you, you know," he said, forcing himself to keep his voice low. It came out rather dark and menacing, and he liked it, the way it felt in his throat; coiled and ready to kill.

"Oh, naturally!" Malfoy said sarcastically, turning to face Harry. He was only a metre away, but spoke a bit too loudly for the distance. "Out of the goodness of her heart, I'm sure, and nothing at all to do with protecting Saint Potter's spotless record!"

"She stood up for you," Harry shouted, "though I can't imagine why!" At the flicker of surprise in Malfoy's eyes, Harry nodded. "Oh, yeah," he added, in exaggerated tones. "She seems to think you'll have a hard time of it. She even felt sorry for you--" Malfoy recoiled, and too late, Harry realized it was the wrong thing to say.

"Tell her I don't need her pity," Malfoy spat, "and tell her to worry about your reputation and leave mine alone." He strode off again at that, and Harry cursed himself for having to run to catch up.

~*~

"Ah, yes, gentlemen, I've been expecting you," Dumbledore said when they arrived, rather more cheerfully than the situation called for. He gestured to the chairs before his desk. "Please do have a seat."

"Madame Pomfrey told us we needed to see you, sir," Harry said, as he sat.

"I'm not really sure what for," Malfoy said from his chair. "I've already made my decision, there's just the question of how to make it happen."

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded at them. "You will have decided to terminate the pregnancy, I presume?"

"As soon as possible," Malfoy said. Once again, Harry felt like an unnecessary presence in the room.

"And Madame Pomfrey has advised you about the risks in undertaking such a procedure?"

"I'm well aware," Malfoy said tightly, "of the risks of this news reaching my family and the Ministry of Magic, Professor Dumbledore."

"You could be in grave danger, yes," Dumbledore agreed. "The Malfoys would not be pleased by this turn of events. I expect they would place the blame on you, Harry."

Scrutinized by Dumbledore for the first time since they'd entered the room, Harry felt rather like a specimen under a microscope. He had never been so unnerved by Dumbledore's kindly blue eyes before. He wasn't sure what to say - he'd wanted to scream "fix it!" to everyone he'd encountered since the whole mess had unfolded - but Dumbledore was not finished speaking. "Were you aware, Draco," Dumbledore said, returning his gaze to Malfoy, "that abortion can be a surgical procedure as well as a magical one?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You mean Muggle surgery," he said, his voice flat.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I do. The procedure would have the advantage of not discriminating between a pregnancy caused by either magical or non-magical means. It is invasive, but effective, and would pose far less of a risk than even the most judicious use of a potion."

"Except that it's barbaric," Malfoy exclaimed, rising to his feet. Harry wondered if Malfoy's face would retain that perpetual shade of pinkness, if that was a side effect of the pregnancy or something else entirely. "Their hands on me," Malfoy went on, grimacing, "doing all sorts of things I-- Professor, sir, with all respect, surely you can't be serious." It hadn't occurred to Harry that Malfoy's aversion to all things Muggle might actually cost him his only possible solution. To Harry it seemed a perfectly reasonable suggestion, despite the fact that the question of Malfoy's gender might be a cause of speculation by any Muggle doctors who examined him.

Dumbledore spread his hands out in a show of surrender. "It was an option Madame Pomfrey was unwilling to discuss," he explained. "I merely wanted you to be informed that it was a possibility. Here at Hogwarts," he added sadly, "I'm afraid we cannot put your life at serious risk when there is a safer option to consider."

Malfoy slumped back down into his chair. "With the Dark Lord risen to power, this could hardly be a safer--"

"Hogwarts is the safest refuge one could hope for," Dumbledore assured him. "If you desire to stay here for the duration--"

"Sir, my family will want to see me," Malfoy said, "at Christmas, and--"

"You can forego the holiday journey, and arrangements can be made for you in the dormitories--"

"But sir," Malfoy interrupted once again, and Harry did not miss the pleading tone in his voice. "Once the news gets out, I'll never be able to return home again! You can't even protect Potter forever, so how can I expect you to protect me?"

"The both of you come from very powerful and respectful lineages," Dumbledore began, "and your parents shared an impressive history, if on opposing sides of the first war with Voldemort." He steepled his hands in front of his face. "It could very well be," he said, "that a child combining your respective families' traits would be a great treasure to those charged with its care."

Harry let a breath out as realization swept over him. "This baby is a weapon," he guessed.

"Not a weapon," Dumbledore corrected him. "But... perhaps a tool that some would use as leverage for their own sides. Imagine the strength that could be gained if both of you should be recruited for the same side of the battle! This child could be a deciding factor in that struggle."

And if Malfoy were carrying the child, Harry thought in dismay, they were doomed. Malfoy, who didn't have the Dark Mark tattooed on his arm yet but might as well have, would never fight to support Dumbledore against Voldemort. Tom Riddle had managed to remove the half-blood stigma from his own lineage in order to transform himself; Harry was sure that Draco Malfoy would not be above doing the same to this child. "Is there any way we can make sure it doesn't come to that?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that lies almost entirely up to the two of you." Dumbledore regarded them both with grandfatherly sympathy. "And that, Draco," he continued, strangely directing his words to Harry, though he was addressing Malfoy, "is why you will have some very difficult decisions to make in the coming weeks. I wish you clarity of mind and courage. I do not envy the choices you have before you."

Malfoy didn't say anything to Harry as they made their way back from Dumbledore's office. It was lunchtime, and Harry was starving, but the last thing he wanted was to have to act as if nothing had happened while he ate in the Great Hall. He hoped Hermione and Ron had managed to nick some food for him in the common room.

Finally the silence became too great. "Malfoy, okay, I'm really sor--" he started, because he didn't know what else he could say.

"Stop," Malfoy said shortly, shooting him a bitter glance. "Just. stop, all right? Stop apologizing; it's making me sick. Honestly."

"Maybe it's," Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe it's, you know. morning sickness, or something."

"No," Malfoy sighed, "no, I'm pretty sure it's you."

How was he supposed to help Malfoy if it was going to be like this for the rest of the school year? "Fine," he conceded, grateful that they'd reached the Gryffindor wing already. "I guess I'll see you," he muttered, and turned off without looking behind him for Malfoy's reaction.

~*~

Fortunately Ron and Hermione had saved Harry some food after all, and Harry ate while he filled them in on what had happened with Pomfrey and Dumbledore. He left out some details, such as Malfoy's initial insistence on taking the mortal risks associated with a magical abortion. For some reason, Harry felt that was information no one needed to be privy to. Meanwhile, Hermione shared with Harry their findings on the Imprevius spell. Ron had even looked for information along with Hermione; Harry felt warmed by their show of support, all things considered.

"Wow," Ron had said right away, when Harry had finished speaking. "I'd never thought of it that way, that the baby could be a factor in the war or anything. That could be really dangerous, Harry - what if He-- V-- Voldemort finds out about this?"

"And he will eventually, that's the thing," Harry said, rubbing his eyes.

"What's interesting to me," Hermione said, "is that Pomfrey would say Imprevius had never been cast on a man. We happened to find a case - a single case, mind you - in the 1980s, of a man named Marty Chesna who had his male lover cast Imprevius on him. I'd imagine it's an obscure case, though -- hardly anybody's written about it."

"Well, how did it turn out?" Harry asked. "Why did he do it? He was okay afterwards, right?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione nodded. "He cast the spell because, he wrote, he wanted the experience of having a child of his own, which nothing else could give him. And he was fine! In fact, after the birth - look at this - it says 'all physical changes caused by the spell restored themselves at once'."

Harry felt a grin start to spread over his face. "So... you mean, it undoes itself?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Ron nodded, meeting Harry's grin with a wide smile of his own.

This, Harry thought, was the best news he'd heard all day. "Thanks, guys," he said, a little breathless with excitement. "Can I take one of these with me?" he asked, indicating the books spread out on the table between them. "Great," he added, gathering the books in his arms without waiting for an answer.

"Wait," Hermione cried. "I haven't given you the notes you missed for Transfiguration yet!"

"I'll get them later," Harry called over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. "Thanks for the food as well!" He couldn't wait to tell Malfoy about this in the morning. He wasn't sure if it would naturally follow that an early delivery might yield the same results, but he couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy might reconsider going to Muggles for help if he thought it would solve both of his problems in one fell swoop.

~*~

"Hey, I have a question: how is it," Dean asked of no one in particular, "that Gryffindor has negative points already and we haven't even been at Hogwarts a month yet?" He paused in pulling back his covers to deliver pointed stares at the other inhabitants of the dorm; Ron and Harry exchanged glances, and Seamus shrugged.

"I reckon it's because of the duel we had with Malfoy back on the Hogwarts Express," Neville suggested, casting a sideways glance at Ron and Harry. "D'you suppose Malfoy said anything?"

"I promise you Malfoy said something," Harry admitted, climbing into bed himself. "Listen, guys, I'm not sorry for what we did - that lot had it coming to them- but I'm sorry we had to have points deducted for it. We'll make it back over the term; you'll see."

"Well, if you could just be more grown-up about it," Seamus said. "It isn't as if we're a bunch of first-years running around with no clue about anything anymore! We've got to start acting our age already."

Harry thought this was quite rich coming from the boy who had practically attacked him within this very dorm a year earlier. "And what brought all this on?" he wondered.

Seamus suddenly looked embarrassed. "Well, if it weren't for You-Know-Who returning and all, I probably wouldn't even have come back to Hogwarts this year," he admitted. "My mum's never thought I needed to stay on after writing my OWLs, so." He shrugged. "It's more for the protection, really, why I'm here."

They were all turning into adults, Harry realized, and faster than he was prepared for it. A war on the horizon, students ready to leave school, and he might be a father. He rather wished he was back in first year, when his biggest problem was learning Potions with Snape, and Voldemort was no more than a face on the back of Quirrell's head.

"Well, you're definitely safer here," Dean told Seamus.

Ron nodded, avoiding Harry's gaze. "And we're glad to have you back anyway, Seamus," he added.

Harry took off his glasses and lay down, trying not to think about impending battles and babies that could be used as tools for the enemy's advantage. He sincerely hoped Malfoy would reconsider his options.

~*~

Malfoy wasn't in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. Ron had to nudge Harry several times to keep him from craning his neck too obviously over the rows of students to see if Malfoy had been hidden in some nook or cranny, between Crabbe's and Goyle's massive forms, or lurking about in the corners. But they ate and checked their class schedules for the day, and still Malfoy hadn't appeared.

"Do you suppose he's sick already?" Hermione asked Harry as they got up to leave. They had Charms next, but were running ahead of schedule, and Harry was already planning to stop by the hospital wing and see if Malfoy had checked in before going to class.

"Dunno," he said in response. He had to admit, he felt a sort of smug satisfaction at the thought of Malfoy suffering from some uncomfortable but mostly harmless morning sickness - especially after the way he'd rebuffed all of Harry's attempts to help him the day before.

"It might serve him a bit right, being sick for a while," Ron suggested, voicing Harry's thoughts exactly. "You're coming to class with us, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Just let me check with Madame Pomfrey first." He made an apologetic face. "Him being my ward and all, you know."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Right, of course," Ron said.

Madame Pomfrey insisted that Malfoy had not stopped by to see her, and then made Harry promise to make sure Malfoy would come for help if necessary - as if he had any sway over that, Harry scoffed. Malfoy wasn't at their Potions lesson, either, and considering that Harry was already on Snape's bad side for the year, he didn't want to risk a scene by asking about it.

It turned out that Malfoy was in the library, which Harry only visited after prowling around the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons for a bit, trying to catch any snippets of gossip to see if the news had leaked. "Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked Malfoy when he spotted him, pulling out the chair across the table. Malfoy's head was bent over a thin book with small type, but his left hand rested atop a much more impressive stack of books. Harry could only assume they had to do with the pregnancy; Malfoy was attempting to conceal the contents with his palm.

"Oh, I'm just fine," Malfoy said drily. "Now that there's nothing left in my stomach to bring back up, I'd say baby and I are getting along splendidly."

"We thought you might have morning sickness," Harry admitted.

"Been discussing me all morning, have you?" Malfoy turned the page in his book rather aggressively. "I suppose I should get used to that."

"You'd never miss Potions if it weren't serious, Malfoy," Harry pointed out. He gestured to the pile of books under Malfoy's hand. "Any remedies in there? Maybe I can help."

Malfoy pushed them in Harry's direction. "Wouldn't you know-- magical remedies don't work on magical pregnancies. Everything they suggest is Muggle. Muggle everything." Malfoy made a disgusted face, but his face was pale and it only served to make him look like he was going to be ill. Harry could see the title on the topmost book now - When Baby Drives You Mad: A Pregnancy Guide for the Working Witch.

He figured this was as good a time as any to tell Malfoy about Marty Chesna and the reversal of Imprevius, so he explained as quickly as he could, adding, "so maybe it could work for you, if you reconsidered on the Muggle thing--"

"No," Malfoy said firmly, meeting Harry's gaze for a moment before looking back down at his book. "I'm not having some Muggle doctor prodding and poking at me, using those... those instruments they use, and-- and asking questions about things that don't concern them."

"Suit yourself," Harry said, trying to keep his voice low; he didn't bother to hide his disappointment, as that was obvious enough. "In that case, I suppose you'd rather be ill every morning than use a Muggle remedy for that as well? I'm trying to help you here, Malfoy!"

"You were assigned to help me," Malfoy reminded him, "but you don't need to play the Gryffindor hero around me. I relieve you," he waved his hand. "Go... play with some great deadly beast out in the Forbidden Forest, or whatever it is you do."

Harry grabbed one of the books from Malfoy's stack to keep himself from answering the challenge, and flipped the cover open. Muggle Remedies for Magical Ailments, whined the title, with a disclaimer that read, "the editors claim no responsibility for any loss of life or limb that may result from following the foolhardy recipes contained within." Nice, Harry thought, and skipped to the middle of the book, reading silently.

After a moment, he turned the book around so that it was facing Malfoy, and stood. "Here," he said, pointing to the left page. "It says if you drink plain tea and eat a few salted crackers before you get up in the morning, it might help with the nausea. Thought maybe you could try that."

When Malfoy continued to watch him dubiously, Harry rolled his eyes. "Contrary to what you may believe about me, Malfoy," he said from between clenched teeth, "I don't exactly fancy the thought of seeing you miserably ill for the next three months."

Malfoy looked at the page where Harry's finger was pointing, and read a few lines, his mouth firmly set. He blinked carefully a couple of times before opening his mouth to speak. "Thanks," he said quietly, still staring at the page.

Harry sighed, grateful for small mercies. "You're welcome," he whispered, and withdrew his hand. "See you later," he added, leaving the library empty-handed and with an empty stomach as well.


end chapter 2.