Author's Notes: This is the third story of the "Shakespearean Arc" series. To understand the entire arc you should probably read the first story, "Much Ado About Nothing" and the second story, "A Winter's Tale". I started this series two years ago (before book 5 had been published). This is an alternate universe where Sirius Black is still alive and the Lucius Malfoy has not been taken to Azkaban. This story takes place after 7th year.

WARNINGS: Draco and Harry smut, male pregnancy, and original characters. If you don't like any of this, skip this fic. You've been warned.

italics - means thought

Chapter 1

Long tapered fingers tapped rhythmically on the rosewood tabletop, the only visible sign of disapproval. Patience was important right now.

"Well?" Lucius Malfoy asked, his tone slightly sharper than usual. "What do you have to say?"

Across from him Draco sat frozen, his eyes still on the ancient leather bound tome between them. Its yellowing pages held his complete attention as the gravity of the book's text pressed down on him.

"Impossible." The pale blond whispered, completely blanking out his father's inquiry. "There has to be a mistake."

"Somehow," Lucius said looking at his son. "I doubt it. I was very thorough in my research. Who gave you the potion?"

"I don't know." Draco swallowed reflexively out of fear.

"You don't know." His father repeated. Draco nodded. "Then who took the other part of it? You should at least know that. Was it a Weasley?" The elder Malfoy watched his son's reaction to the name.

Stunned that his father would even suggest such a thing, Draco lifted his head from the book. Cheeks reddening, he sat in bewildered silence for a moment before his anger surged forward.

"No, it wasn't Weasley! I wouldn't stoop that low." He snapped back. "And it wasn't a Mudblood if that's your next question!"

"It wasn't." Lucius replied lightly, measuring his son's outburst and adding it to his own hypothesis. "But it wasn't a Slytherin, was it?"

Draco opened his mouth to say no, but quickly clamped it shut. If the person had been Slytherin, he would have happily told Lucius everything. As it was, he never wanted his father to know who it had been. A small tremor of pain gravitated up from his stomach. He needed to leave, to be alone to understand what was happening to him. Wincing at another tremor, he bent over willing the pain away. Lucius regarded the action with disgust.

"I can't believe you were that irresponsible," he muttered, finally allowing a bit of his emotions to show. Draco hunched his shoulders at the frigidness in his father's voice.

"I didn't have a choice Father. Someone obviously thought it was a joke and didn't read the warnings."

"Love potions are dangerous, at least when amateurs and fools use them." Lucius curled his fingers into a loose fist. "They can lead to situations like this."

"Yes Father." Draco replied dropping his gaze to his lap. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Draco twisted his robes in his hands as Lucius silently formed a plan of action. His son was, of all things, pregnant. It was unthinkable. Unfortunately there was no sure way of finding the person responsible, not without using a truth potion on the entire popuplation of Hogwarts, in addition to those who had recently graduated. It wasn't the most practical of solutions and he didn't have the time. Furthermore, the Dark Lord wouldn't allow him to waste resources over a small vendetta.

Eying his distressed offspring, Lucius knew there was only one available path. The boy couldn't take the Dark Mark in his condition; Lord Voldemort would have to wait a few more months for his newest servant.

"It's too late to do anything." Lucius said at last. "You're already half way through and ripping it out now will only cause damage. No, you've started this, you'll finish it." This would teach the boy a lesson in responsibility, the Elder Malfoy decided.

Draco's mouth dried and he nodded, terrified. He didn't want this. Four more months,he thought bitterly, his insides somersaulting. Then what?He couldn't think of an answer. Realizing he was about to be violently ill, he stood suddenly, and tried to excuse himself only to be waved away by his father. Ignoring the curt gesture, Draco bolted from the library without hesitation.

He made it to the bathroom before losing his dinner. Bracing his hands on the rim of the toilet, he waited until the shaking passed before slumping down on the cold tile floor. Sitting there he prayed that what remained of his meal would stay put. He wasn't looking forward to a night spent in the lavatory.

"I can't deal with this," he told himself, running a trembling hand through his hair. "Stupid potion! Did someone think it would be funny?" Reaching for the nearest object, Draco snapped a roll of toilet paper off its rack and hurled it at the closed door. It bounced off, landing at his feet. Snarling, he picked it up and threw it again with the same results. Frustrated, he kicked the offending roll, sending it skittering away from him. It came to rest at the base of the door where it should've landed originally. Satisfied that it wouldn't return, Draco leaned back. Fixing a heated glare at the intricate patterns of the ceiling tile, Draco growled.

That bastard! This is his fault! Rolling his head to the side, he snatched a second roll of toilet paper. I hate him! Heaving it at the door, Draco jerked in pain as his elbow collided with the toilet bowl. Biting back tears, he waited for the pain to pass. I hate him.His arm still stinging, Draco decided to move to more comfortable surroundings. Struggling to his feet, he steadied himself against the wall before heading towards his bedroom.

Pushing open the door to his room, Draco staggered to his bed. He sat on the edge and carefully took off his shoes. Gazing at his bare feet, he thought about what the book had said. Everything was beginning to make sense, everything that had happened to him. Sitting up he gazed across the room at a full-length dressing mirror. Its reflective nature hid nothing as he stared at himself. He screamed silently, narrowing his eyes at his mirror twin. This is all Potter's fault!