Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Thanks to my betas (megyal and katilara) who not only smacked me for bad spelling (the shame, the shame) but also added their own spark to this story. Originally written for hd-inspired mpreg fest.
Original request: Stuff that's not too angsty, or smutty, or OOC. I prefer IC! Draco or Harry, and I like when Harry's the one having the bebbehs. :) Humor is also greatly appreciated. Scenarios include: Harry having issues about the pregnancy (i.e. being a parent when his own died during his infancy, missing them, etc) and either Draco, Ron or Hermione providing emotional support.

Word count: Approximately 6,000

Once upon a time, there was a loving couple…

The vase smashed against the wall, right where Draco's head would have been had he not had the sense to duck. Little shards of ceramic crunched under his feet as he scuttled out of the line of direct fire.

"Harry! What are you doing?" In his panic his words reached a pitch he knew wasn't quite distinguished.

"I can't believe you. You don't care. You just go out with the guys; run around having fun without me."

Who doted on each other's every wish and need.

"It was a Slytherin reunion; you wouldn't have wanted to come anyway. And Idid tell you about it, last week, and you said you were fine with me going," he shouted across the room.

"That was last week. I didn't want to be alone tonight and you weren't here. You're never here! You leave me and the grub alone all the time."

Another heavy object went flying through the air and only a large dent left proof of its impact with the wall. Small chunks of plaster snow fell to the floor.

Each man completed the other like no other could…

Draco dove behind the sofa, landing with an undignified 'oof.' "Harry, you're acting like a woman!"

Draco realized his insurmountable mistake when the room suddenly went quiet.

"What did you say?" Harry finally asked, his voice stiff.

"Noth—nothing," Draco stammered, daring to peek over the edge of the sofa.

"Did you just call me a woman?" Harry stood next to the Floo, a solid-looking clock in one hand, the other hand resting on his hip, eyes glowing with fevered emotion.

"Well… a pregnant woman?"

"I am pregnant!" Harry ranted—almost losing his balance due to his seriously distorted center of gravity and 8-month large belly—as he hefted the desk clock through the air right for Draco's face.

And they had need of no other in their Happily Ever After.

It had started off like a fairytale: Harry had swooped down like a dark angel on his Firebolt, saving Draco from the flames in the Room of Requirement, just like a knight on his trusty steed. Even though they weren't friends, true enemies honestly, Harry'd saved him from an unwelcome, scorching death. After that, something tweaked within Draco that never seemed to right itself again. It moved from a unwanted gut twitch anytime Harry was near, to moments of blushes and mind blanks, to Draco finally acknowledging that there had always been something alive and strong and fiery between them. Whether it was hate or love… there could never be placid disinterest.

Draco wished he could say something like "It started with a kiss," that it began with roses and Draco portraying the dashing and gorgeous Prince of the story, but unfortunately it actually started with a collision and Harry coming to his rescue. Draco couldn't help that he was momentarily distracted, because he and Harry Potter were actuallytalking civilly while walking down the streets of London. He couldn't help that he hadn't noticed stepping into the street even as Harry stopped to let the car pass.

Inwardly, Draco scolded himself. What was he doing, stepping into traffic, not watching where he was going? He wasn't some trusting Hufflepuff. But as Harry leaned over his body sprawled on the pavement, an expression of worry overwhelming every feature on his face, Draco dismissed all sense of pride at the oddly serendipitous turn of events and then mercifully passed out from the pain.

It didn't start with a kiss or roses, but there had been the potted plant Harry brought during his first visit to see Draco at St. Mungo's. It was an African violet in a plastic green container. When Harry wasn't visiting, Draco would lovingly pet the fuzzy leaves. It was a riot of blooms and its bright purple flowers cheered Draco greatly.

The kiss, now that didn't come for some time. First Draco recovered. His broken bones and internal injuries completely healed within two weeks thanks to the marvels of wizarding medicine. Next he plotted endlessly, devising ways to get Harry to go on a date with him. His plan would begin with assuring that Harry knew of his amazing assets: magical, financial and physical. He would lavish gifts on Harry, take him to the opera and expensive dinners--really drive home that Draco had everything to offer. Then he would do something sweet. Those emotional Gryffindors always liked a little romance; so Draco researched florists. He was certain roses had to come into this story somehow.

But implausible as it seemed, it was Harry who had made the first move. It was Harry who Floo-called Draco and asked him to coffee.

Coffee. It was so simple.

Draco agreed, stunned, and the two men enjoyed friendly conversation and reminisced about some of their more questionable childhood activities. All in all it was pleasant and that warm, fuzzy feeling grew and thawed out the icy veneer he'd sculpted throughout his twenty years.

As with these kinds of tales, their connection grew quickly—once each man acknowledged its existence. They continued to share time, to talk (even discussing the fall of Voldemort a time or two), to meet each other's friends and truly convince those friends that they were serious. Goyle wasn't so sure, not to mention Ron's grand explosion at the news. As their relationship progressed Harry planned and Draco agreed and everything continued on a beautifully appropriate schedule.

In all honesty, it was Harry who really piloted this boat. And while Draco was a bit perturbed about that--really, he was the manlier man here--he didn't argue the point and let Harry take the lead in their growing relationship.

And eventually, there were kisses.

And roses, as the two men had stood side by side in a private ceremony with only their closest friends surrounding them. They had shared vows and took oaths and the magical binding sealed them together for as long as they both should live.

Draco made sure the entire Great Hall was filled with roses and the path to the Apparition point, where they would leave for their honeymoon, was covered in different shades of reds and whites and pinks, the colors of love, fidelity and purity. He had visions of happily ever after as Granger threw variegated petals and Goyle slapped him on the back. His friends were happy. Harry was happy. He was happy. How could anything go wrong?

Things hadn't really gone wrong, per se. They went along swimmingly. Sure, two men with such dynamic personalities, with fire in their veins, still butted heads once in a while, but the making up always smoothed over any hurts. And they loved each other, deeply and forever, and Draco knew they could weather anything that the universe put before them.

Even Harry's impulsive actions.

"Um, Draco. I need to talk to you about something." Harry had rubbed along his faded scar, avoiding Draco's eyes.

"What… what is it?" Draco'd asked, looking up from the sandwich he was building. At Harry's posture, all hunched and fearful, he dropped the pickle and closed the distance between them, drawing in his husband, wrapping him in his arms. Draco knew that Harry only rubbed that scar when something really bothered him. And Harry never avoided Draco's eyes.

Harry mumbled something that Draco couldn't quite make out. Something like "mrph plgnt."

"What?" Draco asked, his tone quiet and, he hoped, soothing. He ran his fingers through Harry's dark hair, enjoying the coarse feel. The smell of his shampoo, familiar and comforting, filled his nose.

"I'm pregnant," came the very quiet, very small reply.

"What?!" came the not-so-quiet, not-so-small response.

Was that possible?

Harry grew stiff in his arms and tried to move away, but Draco held tight. "It's okay," he said, still petting his husband. "Just tell me what happened. From the top." He let Harry lean back slightly and studied him. His love's eyes were glistening and his face was set like the tears were held in by pulling every facial muscle taut. Draco smiled and kissed him gently, then grabbed his hand and led Harry to the sofa.

All the while, during the short trek from kitchen to living room Draco wondered how Harry could be pregnant. They were not planning such a thing; sure they'd talked about it, but had decided it wasn't time. To his knowledge, Harry wasn't taking any of the special potions and none of the pregnancy charms required for a man to carry a child had been cast upon him.

Unless…

Harry had always wanted a family so badly.

But would he do this behind Draco's back?

Apparently Harry would, and the row that had followed caused Draco's complexion to get all splotchy and drove Harry to stay with Hermione and Ron for an entire weekend.

"He hates me," Harry cried into Hermione's shoulder, leaving a perpetually growing wet patch on her blouse. "I thought that if we just did it and stopped all that damned planning, that he would be happy and," he hiccupped a sob, "we could just have a family." Another sob and he finally lost coherency in a sea of grief.

"Harry," Hermione said as she patted his shoulder, silently pleading with Ron to help, do something, anything, to calm down their friend. Ron stood there, jaw hanging open, wrapped up in a fog of disbelief. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you," she continued, giving up on her husband. "He's probably just had quite a shock."

Harry broke out into another barrage of weeping as Hermione continued to pat his back.

"Draco, get your arse over here," Ron had yelled through the Floo.

Draco took his time in the kitchen, not necessarily hiding, just avoiding the irate Weasel who had at least a half foot on him plus a few stone.

"Draco, I know you're there. Harry's over here crying his eyes out that you hate him or some such bull and now I'm really cheesed off that you're avoiding him and the responsibility of getting him all knocked up. Get your arse over here and deal with it! Or I'm coming through to drag you here."

Draco's heart stalled in his chest. Harry thought he hated him? Draco raced to the Floo, totally ignoring Ron's burning anger as he called out, "Get the hell out of my way, I'm coming through."

As he walked through the fireplace he could barely hear Hermione's murmurs over Harry's loud tears.

Draco felt like a complete arse.

"Harry," he said softly, standing on the edge of the room, not wanting to intrude on Harry's death grip on Hermione if he wasn't wanted.

Harry peeled himself off of her shoulder and glanced at Draco. Even with his red eyes and his face all scrunched up in misery, Draco loved to look at Harry. He was beautiful, always.

"Harry," he repeated and took a tentative step into the living room. His heart thudded in his ears and he promised the universe impossible things just to have Harry forgive him. "I'm so sorry. You just knocked me off my rocker a bit."

Harry sniffed at him.

Draco took that as a good sign and approached the two Gryffindors. With his arms open he waited and finally Harry stood and lunged at Draco, gripping him like a security bear and half pounding his chest with a balled up fist.

"You bastard! How could you yell at me for this? I thought you wanted kids! We wanted kids! Why wait so damned long? There's no more waiting. I spent my whole life wanting a family and you just wanted to wait. Well… screw that! I'm not waiting, not anymore."

Harry stopped to refill his lungs and as he opened his mouth to further berate Draco, he looked into those grey eyes and his tirade stalled at Draco's gentle expression. "What?" he finally asked, wearily.

"Harry, I love you. I do want a family with you. And we are going to have one. I'm sorry I yelled," Draco said. He lifted his fingers and brushed Harry's hair away from his face, which stuck to the damp places on his eyes, nose and mouth. "I'm sorry I made you wait for a family. Come on, let's go home. Tomorrow we can redecorate the nursery."

Harry's eyes grew wide and he swallowed down his tears. "You mean it?" He sounded so hopeful and sad that Draco drew him close again and clutched him tight.

"Yes, Harry. I mean it." He kissed the top of Harry's head.

"You're not mad at me about our grub?" he asked.

"Grub?" Draco said, shocked. "My baby is not a grub," he explained seriously, but Harry only held onto him tighter, this time shaking with a chuckle.

And so the two men prepared and planned for their coming arrival, and with their true and deep affection for each other, they rode through each and every collision.

Draco looked sadly at the piles of broken porcelain and fine antiques. Sure, a quickReparo would probably make everything look unbroken, but Draco new in every aristocratic cell of his body that the items would never be pristine.

He'd had to lunge for Harry to make sure the Ming vase hadn't suffered the same fate as the Grecian one had and now he sat on the floor with Harry wrapped up in his arms, struggling and flailing, screaming to "Let me go, dammit!" and telling Draco he was a "Right bastard!" and finally going quiet with little sniffles.

"I'm sorry," Harry finally said, his voice tiny and fragile. He lifted his head and the sight of those tear-streaked cheeks made Draco all the more sorrowful.

"I'm sorry, too." Draco swallowed his pride willingly, tucking a strand of Harry's hair behind an ear. "I should have checked with you this morning before I went out with my old classmates."

With a deep breath, he tried to put on his most compassionate, understanding look and as Harry visibly relaxed, Draco did his best to occlude every disgruntled emotion he had writhing in his gut. This was the third irrational breakdown Harry'd had this week and Draco wasn't sure exactly how he was going to deal with the upcoming final weeks.

"Harry, we need to talk." His heart did that tight, twisting sensation and he knew his compassionate look was crumbling away.

Harry appeared startled, then contrite and finally he nodded. "I'm scared," he admitted completely out of the blue. Clutching Draco tightly, Harry burrowed his face into Draco's neck and whispered into the shelter he found in the dark hollow between neck and shoulder.

"I'm scared that I won't know what to do. I'm scared that what if I die, or you die and the grub is left alone. An orphan. I'm scared that I'll be a totally useless dad, or mom, or whateverthehell I'm supposed to be. I'm just too damned scared that I'll muck this whole thing up," he sniffed. "I realize I have no idea what I'm doing."

After a lengthy pause, Draco petted Harry, brushing his hand up and down his spouse's strong back, feeling the twitch of muscles as Harry strained to keep himself under control. He leaned back against the coffee table and sighed.

"You'll be great, Harry. You will show the little… grub how to grow up and be a good person, while I'll, of course, teach our fine offspring how to wrap the world around his… or her, finger. We'll both be here for him. We will love this child like no child has ever been loved, and while we are bound to really screw up on the rare occasion, we've got stable people in our lives to redirect us if we totally sail off course."

"We do?" Harry mumbled.

"Yep. You've got Hermione and the Weasleys. I've got Mother. They will be here for us. Don't you worry about that."

As the radio, untouched in the recent storm, quietly played in the background and the announcer explained the stats of the latest Chudley Cannons' chasers, Harry relaxed in Draco's arms, his large belly pressed firmly against Draco's own flat one.

"Do you want to go talk to them, Harry? Maybe tomorrow?"

Harry pulled back, his face puffy and red, yet still a cherished sight in Draco's eyes, and nodded. "Yeah. If that's okay."

"Of course it is. We'll talk to everyone tomorrow."

There were piles of books and baby toys, blankets and those little one piece suits that always seemed so silly to Draco. He felt his eyes might go blind at the overwhelming Muggleness in the room. At any rate, the sight of them seemed to calm Harry down as they descended upon Hermione and Ron's home, so Draco swallowed down is invective and plastered on a fake smile.

Ron seemed to puff his chest and grow a few sizes as they walked from the Floo into the menagerie of baby paraphernalia. His huge grin at Harry threatened to eat his entire face.

"Hermione, what is all of this?" Harry asked, not even trying to mask his delight.

"Well, Ron and I thought of some of the things you might need and well," she smiled sheepishly, "I'm afraid we went a little overboard."

As Draco took a step forward to stand by Harry's side, Ron turned and glowered at him. A sigh of exasperation escaped his lips. How long was he going to be the bad guy? It wasn't like he'd even done anything wrong.

"Hermione, Ron," Draco started, "we would like to talk to you about the baby." It hurt Draco to even consider asking these two Gryffindors for what he was about to, let alone actually speak the words, but he would do anything to ease Harry's worry.

Hermione's eyes grew in shock, but it was the immediate drop of Ron's shoulders and spontaneous grin that really surprised Draco.

"Oh, well, not that we're experts, but I did have six siblings."

"Ron, only one of them was younger. And she was only a year younger," Hermione scolded as she organized the piles of gifts. Then she turned to Harry and Draco and her most approachable, big sister attitude slid into place. Draco always marveled at the influence she had over her two friends.

"I doubt we could tell you anything actual parents couldn't tell you," Hermione said, a little amused.

"Well," Harry began and then stopped. He looked over at Draco, balancing between beseeching and overwhelmed.

"You see," Draco jumped in, slipping his arm around Harry's waist. "We want to ask you, in case something terrible happens to us, which won't, that you will look after our child."

You could have heard the flap of pixie wings in the silence of the room.

Draco tried again, maybe they hadn't understood. "Would you be our child's godparents?" There, he didn't think they could misunderstand that.

"What? Really?! Oh my God! Of course we would!" Hermione squealed as she jumped to her feet; then she ran up to Harry and enveloped him in a girly hug. Harry jumped about with her, a tad awkwardly, as they chanted, "Baby, baby, baby," together. The slap of Ron's huge hand on Draco's shoulder practically knocked him over, drawing his attention away from the dancing duo.

"Draco, of course we accept. We'd do anything for Harry, he's my honorary brother and all. And," Ron paused and took a deep breath, "and, we would do anything for you, too. We know you love him and would do anything for him. That makes you kinda like us."

Draco suppressed the shudder at being compared to a Weasley and just smiled wanly at Ron, hoping Ron would think he was overcome by their acceptance.

Mrs. Weasley had grown old. The loss of her son and the terror that she harbored for the safety of her remaining family had streaked her hair with grey, as steely as the substance running through her veins.

"Oh, Harry. How you been, you dear boy. And look at you! Getting round," she noted with a smile, reaching out to pat his stomach.

Mrs. Weasley might be getting old, but she was still a mother of seven, even if they weren't all there anymore. Even as a mother of seven, eight if you count Harry, she still had a bottomless well of love for more children in her life.

Draco knew that his spouse had always found the Weasley house a sort of haven. Of course, Draco couldn't understand such a thing, but he loved Harry and indulged him anytime he wanted to visit. Caring for Harry, opening his heart, his life, his very soul to him, had caused Draco to reevaluate his views of worthy and unworthy, honor and dishonor, and definitely skewed his perceptions of wizarding high society as a whole.

He still felt the Weasleys were awfully plebian, but they were good people to Harry, and for that Draco could accept their tiny shack, shabby clothing and general countryside attitude.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, kissing the older woman on her plump cheek even as he poked out his belly for her to caress. Draco also gave her a quick, yet warm hug and the two were settled down at the kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate for Harry and a cup of tea for Draco.

"What brings you two here today? Any new baby developments?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Harry shook his head. "Actually, Mrs. Weasley, I was wondering if you could give us some parenting tips. What do I do when grub gets sick? Or when he won't do what I say or when he runs away from home? What if he ends up hating me, or thinking I'm weird 'cause I'm his mother and all the other kids have female mothers? What if I do it all… wrong?" His words trailed off as he lost himself in his mug of chocolate, eyes tracking the little fish marshmallows swimming around.

"And I just feel so lost sometimes, so alone, like nobody understands my fears."

Draco sat quietly beside Harry, his eyes focused on the line of tea cups hanging from a shelf on the far wall, heart aching at his love's lost voice. Draco hated feeling powerless.

Molly Weasley glanced over at Draco's face and then back at Harry. "Oh, Harry dear." She reached across the table and gripped Harry's shaking hands. He looked up from his hot chocolate. "Every new parent has these same worries. Well maybe not the you being the mother part," she chuckled softly, "but everyone is scared. Every mother, father, friend and family member. Nobody really has any training. It is something they learn from watching others, from growing up. And Harry, I know you might not have had the best role models with those terrible Muggles, but you've shown such a strong sense of character and sturdy moral fiber, that I know you will do beautifully. Plus, you have me to always call upon, but more importantly, you have Draco by your side."

Draco's eyes grew wide in shock and his gaze refocused on Mrs. Weasley.

She smiled brightly at the two men. "Remember that he loves you and he loves your baby and both of you, two wonderful and good men, have a lot to pass on. Know this Harry; I doubt any other child in this current era will be any more loved. And yes, you will have times when your wonderful, beautiful baby turns into a raving demon," she chuckled, "but every child has to find their own place. Just remember to provide a stable home, a solid foundation for them to return to, and your children will always come back to you even as they become adults and begin their own lives."

Draco sat stock still as Harry clutched onto Mrs. Weasley's hands, laughing his thanks even as the tears fell down his cheeks.

"Mother, we are here," Draco called out as he walked through the parlor Floo.

The Malfoy matron walked through the entrance in full-refined elegance. Her gown sparkled with gold and silver threads and her wavy blond hair was pulled back into a classic French twist. A spring of baby's breath adorned the style.

"Draco, my darling, is something the matter?" she asked, a slight note of concern in her words.

"Mother, you look splendid. I hope we are not interrupting." Draco embraced his mother and kissed her on the cheek. Harry stood behind him and smiled sheepishly.

Draco's mother had never fully accepted that he'd married a man… let alone a half-blood man. She had told Draco on his wedding night that she still had a half a dozen pure-blooded women from all over the globe ready for him the minute this passing fancy faded.

He hadn't spoken to her for two years after that.

Then she delivered an olive branch, in the form of an extravagant trip to the Orient for their second anniversary, and she was included in his life once more. It wasn't that his mother had bought his forgiveness; it was just the way the Malfoys worked. The fact that she even took the first step pleased and shocked him to no end.

Then they had told her Harry was pregnant—Harry had actually tried to beg off that meeting, suggesting he might throw-up on Mrs. Malfoy's fine carpets, but Draco wouldn't let him off the hook. She held her tongue for at least five minutes before she blew up, asking what the hell they had been thinking, how could they go through with something so rash, when Harry stepped forward and yelled at his mother—yelled at her!—telling her that he loved Draco and wanted to share more than just their lives. He told her he wanted to create life with Draco, that he wanted children with him, to share their love withoffspring. Draco's mother had pursed her lips, congratulated them, and then had left the room.

While Draco had been by a few times since that outburst, this was the first time Harry had faced his mother since.

"I had plans to attend the symphony, but that can wait. Is everything okay? Harry, is the pregnancy going as planned?"

Draco's breath caught in his throat, wondering if Harry even realized yet another olive branch was held out for them to take or throw away, and how Harry would handle not only the query, but the fact that she had even addressed him at all.

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said as he walked forward and awkwardly took her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek. His belly caused him to lean forward too far and he almost overbalanced. "Everything is fine… we were just… Well, I was just hoping to talk to you about a few things. About being a parent, raising a child…"

Her eyes grew wide by the slightest fraction, but Draco caught it nonetheless.

"Come, sit. Moffy," she said to the empty air and a skinny house-elf dressed in a pink pillow-case popped into existence. "Tea for three, please."

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy," and Moffy popped away.

The two men sat together on the small sofa as Mrs. Malfoy took the chair next to the Floo. The air was thick and still but finally Mrs. Malfoy spoke.

"So, what would you like to talk about?" she asked politely.

Harry looked like he'd been caught naked in front of Snape's class and Draco decided he'd better step in. "Mother, as first time parents, we are having first time parent jitters."

"Jitters?" she asked, her perfect face unreadable as she looked at Draco.

Sometimes he forgot how much living with Harry had changed him. He took a deep breath. "Yes, jitters. How did you feel when you were expecting my arrival?"

Moffy popped in and placed a tea service for three on the table. Taking her time, Mrs. Malfoy reached for her cup and took a small sip, her eyes half closed. "Well, we did have a few house-elves to help in your raising, and Draco you can have Moffy if you would like. She's a trained au pair as well as a maid."

"No!" Harry said, the cup he had prepared rattling in his hands, then halted the rest of his words. Quickly he set down the cup and clenched hands protectively over his stomach.

"We want to raise our child ourselves, mother, not let a house-elf do it," Draco explained. He and Harry'd talked about this, it was one of the many concessions he made for his Muggle raised husband.

Mrs. Malfoy opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and then finally let out a deep sigh. "I know, my Draco," then she chuckled. "You know, it was what everybody did when you were a baby. The high born children were all raised by elves." She sipped her tea again, not looking at any of the men as she savored the flavor of the fragrant drink. "Not to say there is anything wrong with elf-raising, but I would always sneak into your room in the dead of night and watch you breathe. You were so delicate, such a wisp of a boy, all perfect and pink with just a whisper of stark white hair." She smiled as she stared off into the distance, eyes unfocused on the past.

"I loved dressing you up. I have five portraits of you in baby gowns that I haven't even had exhibited in the portrait hall. You were my darling living doll."

Draco shifted in his seat and avoided Harry's searching gaze. He'd seen those portraits and he felt oddly silly about them.

"Then you grew and walked about. I would take you strolling through the gardens and watch you in delight at each new discovery. The peonies were your favorite flower, Draco. Do you remember?"

He nodded at his mother, "I do, Mother. The red ones were so full of bees. I enjoyed watching them fly around."

Mrs. Malfoy laughed and finally looked at Harry. "You will have the exact same thing, but even more so than I did. Certainly I would never wish to change a nappy, but there was much I missed." She returned her gaze to Draco and he was shocked at the sadness he saw there, a kind of empty loss. "I missed your first word and I missed so many of your bumps and bruises that are best cured with a mother's kiss and touch. You will be shocked at how quickly the time passes and soon your child will be receiving her Hogwart's letter and off she'll go from your life and you will watch as the train rolls away and wonder where all the years had gone.

"My best and biggest advice is to take nothing for granted and spend every moment you can with your child. Love your baby like you have never loved anyone before, for it could be the only chance you have at creating something bigger and better than yourself." Draco saw in amazement as his mother spoke every word that her eyes had grown watery with emotion. He realized his own as grown moist as well. He never understood, never knew how much she loved him.

"What was Draco's favorite toy?" Harry finally blurted out, breaking the tension in a most Harry kind of way.

"Draco's favorite toy was a stuffed pixie." Harry's eyes grew big and Mrs. Malfoy rolled her own. "Not a real pixie, a toy," she said exasperatedly. "He would carry that thing everywhere and I had to Evanesco it constantly for fear of germs."

Harry laughed and Draco smiled and the hours ticked by as his mother and husband finally got along. Eventually, long past the candles sparking to life to light the room and the sky outside going black, the clock chimed eleven o'clock, Harry and Draco rose to leave.

"I'm so sorry we've made you miss the symphony, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said.

"Oh, nonsense, my dear. And please, call me Narcissa."

Once upon a time, there was a loving couple…

"Hey, Draco. Look at this!" Harry pulled out a small stuffed animal from the brightly wrapped box. It was brown and slightly bear shaped and after Harry pushed in its nose, Draco watched as the bear began bouncing around the floor on its squishy legs, singing "Baby Ride the Stars," a wizarding lullaby he, himself, had grown up on. "Isn't this great!"

Who welcomed a third to share that love.

He continued to watch as Harry pulled out a book, hard bound and obviously old. Harry laughed suddenly, the sound bubbling out of him and Draco couldn't help but smile. "Leave it to Hermione," he said after he caught his breath. "Look at this book she got us."

Harry lifted up the book so Draco could read the title: Raising your Magical Baby: Notes from the Generations. He knew that book. His own parents had a version for pure-blood babies.

Muggle or wizard-raised, this baby would be swaddled in love from both of his fathers.

And there were roses and kisses and collisions of love…

Finally, Harry pulled open the last box. He looked in, his eyes drawn together in confusion as he removed a picture. A portrait actually.

Waiting, holding his breath, Draco tried to read the emotions crossing Harry's face. First, there was the obvious confusion. Next he saw a little wonder and then everything else was overwhelmed as Harry's eyes began to overflow with blinding love, all aimed at Draco.

"How did you…? Draco, this is perfect."

He placed the portrait gently down on the table and walked to Draco, waddling even as he still held his grace. The happy family in the portrait sat together, arms wrapped around each other as the dark-haired man and red headed woman petted and cooed over their chubby little baby.

"Merlin, you're fantastic. Have I told you that?"

Harry's fears crumbled before the overwhelming force of Draco's love.

"Yes, love. You tell me every day." And Draco kissed him.

As the three lived Happily Ever After.