6. The Art of Avoidance
It felt like the middle of the night when the door opened. Harry blinked in the sudden light lancing past the tall figure, an expressionless silhouette which reached down and scooped him up. Harry pressed his face into Malfoy's shoulder, off-balance from the unaccustomed height and the swaying sensation of being carried.
Then he realized he *was* being carried.
"Put me down."
Malfoy said nothing, and Harry grabbed a fistful of conveniently long hair. "Put. Me. Down."
Wordlessly, Malfoy set him on his feet, and held his arm until he regained his equilibrium. "I... apologize, Mr Potter. Madam Saddler warned me not to upset you unduly."
Harry's lips thinned, holding in the words he really wanted to say. Several incidences made sudden sense: Lucius backing down, not throwing his rebellious escape through the window at him. "No need to apologize, Mr Malfoy. If it's all right with you, I'll just stay the night and be gone in the morning."
"You're not leaving."
"Ah, so that whole 'Get out, you filthy whore' thing was French for 'Why, Harry, are you lost? Do you need help back to your rooms?'"
"I did apologize for upsetting you."
"I don't *want* an apology, I want out of here."
"Impossible, Mr Potter." Malfoy took his arm, and led him down the dimly-lit corridor. "You are my ward, and you have no where else to go."
Harry tried to reclaim his arm, but Malfoy was stronger. "I'm going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until Sirius is free."
"Really? And how do you propose to get by in a magical society without the freedom to do magic?"
"Then I'll rent a room in muggle London."
Malfoy stopped short and pulled Harry around to face him. "Indeed. With this to carry around?" A large palm spread over his belly, engulfing the bulge entirely. They stared at each other for a long moment. "Your plans are ill-considered. The Ministry believes this to be the best place for you."
"The Ministry also left me at Privet Drive for sixteen bloody years," Harry said, then closed his mouth before he could contradict his earlier defence further.
Malfoy merely raised a brow at his hypocrisy and set off again, dragging Harry along. They walked in silence until they reached Harry's door, where Malfoy released him, and bowed. "Good night, Mr Potter."
Harry said nothing, and slipped inside his luxury prison.
* * * * *
No more schedules arrived, and Harry was left to fill his own time. Madam Saddler was not due for another six days, so Harry spent some time going through the books she had left, combing them for answers to some of his questions.
*Male Pregnancy the Natural Way*, the book on autonomantic pregnancy, was the more helpful of the two, and the more he read the more thankful he was that his body went and decided to have a child on its own. The Venusian method looked painful, complicated, and difficult, and it had a low success rate. Autonomancy, on the other hand, almost always progressed problem-free, even more so than many female pregnancies.
Broom-riding, he discovered, put abnormal pressure on the circumvenic channel, and could prevent it from forming properly -- which could cause serious tears during labour. He vowed to lock his broom in the garderobe and not look at it until January. The book reassured him on the matter of the actual birth however; the tissue became more elastic near the end of pregnancy, and would retain elasticity even after the child was born, making anal sex more comfortable. Harry grinned to himself, staring at the slowly revolving illustration, but the smile faded as he wondered if he would have any partners in the future. Much as he disliked the idea, he was still alive, and Draco was not. He didn't want to be celibate the rest of his life, yet he couldn't imagine being with anyone but Draco.
A cold, dull pain spread from his chest, and he set the book down, and curled up on the chaise lounge. He thought of Lucius' hand covering his belly, and felt ill.
* * * * *
The next few days passed in a quiet haze. Harry attempted to send Zimble after the letter in Draco's room, then spent three hours calming the house elf down; it seemed Harry was not the only one forbidden to touch Draco's things. After that, he stayed in his suite, knowing he would be tempted to retrieve the letter if he wandered around the manor.
The house elves were jumpy, and Harry wondered what Malfoy had done to them for 'allowing' him into the west wing. True to Zimble's promise, they had hung curtains around the bed, stringing them from thin silver chains attached to the ceiling. He didn't have the heart to tell them the material was too gauzy to bring him any comfort, but after the third night in the trundle bed, he noticed the space between the beds had been widened, making it easier to crawl in and out.
Schoolwork, *Male Pregnancy the Natural Way*, and the court of Hatshepsut filled his time, and he broke the long days of reading with walks down to the pond behind the owlry. Sometimes he met Sthanadu, and sometimes he did not, but he found her company amusing and looked forward to her unintentional humour. He thought she was growing fond of him in return, if snakes were capable of such emotion. At the very least, he kept the owls away.
On Wednesday, after Madam Saddler had come and gone, leaving him with a new photograph of his slightly larger alien and a scolding for his eating habits, an owl arrived for him.
He spilled ink all over his potions essay, and the owl bit him twice, but he got his hands on the letter. "And stay away from the snakes by the pond!" Harry shouted after the bird as it left. With trembling hands, he unrolled the scroll.
*Dear Harry,
According my research, Malfoy will only have a chance for custody if he can prove you would be an unfit parent. He'll have a better chance of that if you drop out of school, so I recommend you finish your final year, and make sure you have a career in mind for afterwards. I suggest you retain a lawyer just in case. You'll need to arrange care for the baby for the last two school terms, and provide all the necessities. You should talk to Dumbledore about your living arrangements, and find out whether it would be possible for you to live off campus or bring the baby into the dorm.
As for our friendship, I understand intellectually that Ginny's death was not your fault, however, I need time to deal with the fact that you chose Draco over Ginny. Please don't owl me again; I'll contact you when I'm ready.
Congratulations on the baby.
Hermione*
Parchment tore beneath his fingers, hands crushing the letter as some unknown force crushed his chest. "How can you *think* that, Hermione?" he whispered before his throat closed.
*"Get out of here, Harry!"
"I'm not leaving you." Gryffindor's sword heavy in his hand, a spray of silver sparks burning his skin.
"She'll be back soon."
Back with her hissing laughter and her boneless, half-naked, *stolen* vessel, and the spell she would cast so carelessly and make Draco's pale face turn purple, flesh swelling, eyes bulging, nails gouging the smooth neck he so liked to kiss and there was not a damn thing Harry could do to stop it because it had already happened.
"Too late, little dragon."
Hissed in parseltongue. No countercurse to the spell that came next, but he should have stepped in front of it, or struck her the moment she stepped in the door, or left her to die in the chamber below the school so long ago.
And he was *glad* she was dead, and maybe that was why everyone hated him.*
"Potter!" A slap snapped his eyes open, and he gasped, Malfoy standing over him, a dark scowl marring his face.
"You hit me." Harry's hand drifted up to touch his own cheek.
"You were hyperventilating. Zimble had to fetch me from a fire conference."
"You hit me."
"I could have let you continue until you passed out."
Harry roused enough to glare. "Don't you have a fire conference to get back to?"
"I cancelled it." Malfoy paused, tilting his head in the same way Sthanadu did before she asked a question she knew Harry would laugh at. "I need to visit the Ministry this afternoon. I don't suppose you would want to go."
Thoughts of lawyers and custody leapt again, and he crushed the mangled letter from Hermione. "What for?"
Malfoy stood so abruptly the hem of his robe briefly overcame gravity. "I was under the impression you were close to your godfather, Potter. Forgive the misapprehension."
"Sirius?" Harry also stood, and the parchment fell, forgotten. "What's Sirius doing at the Ministry?"
"Awaiting his trial like a good little convicted murderer. If you're coming, be down in the India Zephyr room at two o'clock. We shall attempt to take the floo."
Malfoy swept out, but Harry barely noticed. He ran back to his bedroom, which was engulfed by a swarm of house elves storing away the piles of clothing which had arrived from Apollonius.
"I need something nice to wear," he blurted. Zimble squealed, and promptly produced a bronze and black dress robe. "No, no... Look, what's the most *casual* clothing I have?"
After a minor debate with Rollie, Zimble laid out a pair of tan leggings and long, deep-red, tunic-style shirt. Harry sighed, then shucked his jeans, heedless of the bulging eyes on him, and scrambled into the clothes. He let Zimble cinch a belt low on his hips, then stamped into the boots Apollonius had included in the shipment. He paused at the mirror, and almost laughed at himself; all he needed was a scabbard to complete the outfit.
That brought thoughts of Gryffindor's sword, and he lost his smile.
Ready to go, Harry checked the clock on the wall; the hand with his face on it -- the only hand -- sat at 'early'. "Zimble, what time is it?"
"It is time for Sir to be--"
"Zimble, if I were to look at a muggle clock, what time would it say?"
"Four minutes past one, Sir."
Harry rattled his fingers on the desk, then grabbed the two photographs of his alien, and headed for the India Zephyr room to wait.
* * * * *
Harry had not seen Sirius since waking in the infirmary five weeks ago. He knew Sirius had turned himself in at some point after the Dark Lord's fall, on the condition that he receive a trial. What he hadn't realized was that Sirius would wait for his trial to begin from the Ministry's prison cells below the Magical Law Enforcement building.
Harry stomped after the guard Malfoy had left him with. The long row of cells with their metal doors gave him chills, and he wondered how like Azkaban it was and how Sirius was coping. "I don't know why you have him down here. Sirius *wants* a trial."
"Sorry, Mr Potter." The guard grimaced and ducked his head. "He's escaped before, so we've got to consider him a flight risk. MLE policy." The guard paused, opened his mouth, closed it, then spun around and knocked on one of the doors. "Visitor, Mr Black."
Harry pushed past the guard, and was struck motionless by the light and warmth. Sirius, curled up in a worn armchair, looked up from the book on his lap. The door snicked shut behind him.
"Harry!" The book fell, and Sirius bounded over, stopping just before manhandling Harry. "Is it true?"
A grin burst over Harry's face, and he impulsively dragged his godfather's hand to his stomach. The bulge pulsed.
"Oh my God. Harry, that's... oh my God."
"You're not angry with me?"
Sirius drew back, then embraced Harry, and pulled him over to the bed -- a soft four-poster. "Of course I'm not mad. I admit it took me a few days to adjust, and I probably *should* be mad, with you still in school and all... but it's a *baby*." There being only one chair, they sat on the edge of the bed and Sirius pulled Harry into the crook of his arm. "I remember when James told me Lily was pregnant... I went out a bought a training broom and a tiny set of quidditch robes the very same day. I think I was more excited than James."
Harry laughed, and sat up a bit; the angle made him dizzy. "They seem to be taking care of you." He glanced around the small room with its large rug, armchair, table laid out with a chess set, short bookcase stocked with reading material, and a brazier holding a fire.
"Better than some of the places I've lived. The food's terrible, but Willy out there sneaks me care packages from his wife. She even made me a scarf, just in case ye olde dank cell got cold." Sirius pointed to a multi-coloured monstrosity in wool draped over the back of the chair. It looked more like a shawl than a scarf. "How about you? I bet Mrs Weasley is fussing over you."
There was a silence before comprehension set in. "I'm not staying with the Weasleys."
"Why not? They can't hold what happened against you."
Harry swallowed hard. Sirius had been there. Sirius knew. "They... It's too soon. They don't need me there reminding them."
Sirius nodded, but tightened his arm around Harry. "Are you staying with the Grangers then?"
Harry shook his head. "The Ministry thought I needed to be with a wizard family. S'part of why they took me away from the Dursleys. Too many instances of autonomancy, they said."
"If those muggle relatives of yours weren't such... such *muggles* about things... Never mind. Where have you been staying? You're certainly looking well cared for."
Harry bit back a sharp retort; defending the Dursleys to Malfoy was one thing, but Sirius was his godfather. "I'm staying with Lucius Malfoy."
"*Malfoy*?" Sirius jerked around, gaze sweeping Harry in a new wave of assessment. "Tell me what happened and how he's been treating you."
Grateful to have a friendly ear at last, Harry poured out the tale, from his ill-considered visit to Malfoy Manor to Lucius' peace offering that morning. Sirius listened without interrupting, then sat back, eyes distant.
"At least Malfoy got you away from the Dursleys."
It was the last thing Harry had expected to hear from his godfather. "You're not worried he might take the baby away?"
"He can try. Listen, Harry, I know how much you hate your fame, but in this case it's an asset. You're *Harry Potter*. If Malfoy even tries, half the wizarding world will jump to your defence. You killed Voldemort twice by the age of sixteen. You can handle being a father at seventeen."
"Thanks, Sirius," Harry whispered.
"Which reminds me. It's your birthday next week, and I'm stuck in here. I might be able to con a scarf from Mrs Carmichael..."
Harry smiled. Sirius always knew what to say. "You don't have to get me anything. Just don't forget to come and get me the minute you're free."
"You'll probably be in school by then."
"What?"
"My trial date can't be set until the Office of Forensic Enchantments is done examining Pettigrew's body. Ms Juniper -- that's my lawyer -- thinks the soonest we can hope for is October."
"October!" That meant five more weeks of semi-imprisonment for Harry, and ten for Sirius. "Why so long? Isn't there any way to speed it up?"
"The Ministry took some harsh criticism for its former 'quickest-fix' policy. They're being cautious now. They won't commit to anything without verification in quadruplicate." Sirius brushed Harry's fringe back, and Harry shrugged off the gesture.
"I don't believe this. You already been here for..."
"Two weeks. It won't kill me, Harry. I'd rather they take their time if it means my name will be irrevocably cleared in the end."
Harry toyed with the end of his belt, pulling at the stitching. It mended itself the moment he let go.
Sirius reached over a stilled his hands. "What's this?" he asked, fingers hovering over the tops of the pictures peeking out from his pocket. Harry silently handed them over and watched his godfather's face shift through a gamut of emotions before he finally said, "This is the grossest thing I've ever seen."
Harry managed a smile. "Cool, isn't it?"
"Very. Can you tell if it's a boy or a girl yet?"
"Not yet. Madam Saddler says he's hiding it from us." Harry shifted under Sirius' gaze. "What is it?"
"Merlin. You're really pregnant. Do you... um... get sick in the mornings?"
"Not since I left the Dursleys. At least, not very often. And if I do it's at night, not in the morning. I've actually had more problems with sore feet and weird cravings."
Sirius laughed. "You must have gotten that from your mother. When Lily was about eight months along your father stumbled out of my floo one night at three in the morning. Apparently Lily wanted fruitcake in July, and James had been all over the country looking for some, and finally remembered my Aunt Elspeth sent me one every Christmas."
Harry grinned. "No wonder I hate fruitcake."
"Everyone hates fruitcake, Harry."
"With me it's Marmite. The house elves have been spoiling me though. I don't even have to ask for it, they just send a little dish with every meal."
"I'm glad someone is taking care of you."
"The elves are wonderful, even if they go overboard sometimes. And..." Harry took a deep breath, not wanting to leave his godfather trapped in a cell worrying over him. "And Lucius has been tolerable. Except for wanting custody of the baby. And for yelling at me in Draco's room."
Sirius ran his thumb along the photo's edge, hissed when it cut him. "Listen, if you need to talk about that--"
"It's all right."
"He was a self-centered little snot. But he was crazy about you."
"I know. But if you want to talk about Professor Lupin--"
"I'm dealing with it. Did Snape get a medal?"
Harry dredged up the memory of a specter of hollow smugness hovering over him. "I think so. He came to see me in the hospital wing, but I was pretty out of it."
"We'll have to do something nice for the greasy bastard," Sirius muttered.
"I could fall off the face of the earth."
They looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
* * * * *
Willy Carmichael came to fetch him at half past five. "Sorry, Mr Potter, but visiting hours were over at five, and Mr Malfoy's been waiting for you in the lobby."
Harry looked up from the massacre taking place on the table. "Well, at least I won't get my bum kicked for a fourth time." He rose from the bed as Sirius rose from the chair, and Sirius made a show of spinning him around.
"Sorry, Harry, but there's definitely four boot prints there."
Harry laughed, then blinked against a sudden prickling in his eyes. He hoped the lighting concealed it. Regardless of lighting and wet eyes, Sirius caught him in another embrace, awkward as Harry didn't quite know what to do with his hands. He finally settled for patting Sirius' shoulder, then gave up the pretense and hugged his godfather back.
"If you send an owl to me care of Juno Juniper of Witten and Gemot, she'll make sure I get it," Sirius whispered in his ear.
"I will." He pulled away, and followed the guard out of the cell. At the door he stopped and waved, and Sirius lifted a hand in return. The door shut with a hollow clang, and Harry turned away, enduring Willy's silent sympathy.
The guard paused at the base of the stairs. He had a piece of parchment, ragged on one edge where it had been torn from a larger sheet, and a self-inking quill in his hands. He clutched both to his chest.. "Mr Potter, do you think..."
Harry looked at the quill and parchment, and his first instinct was to stammer an apology and bolt. But then he thought of Sirius in the warm, well-lit cell, and the scarf across the back of the chair. "All right. What's your wife's name?"
"Enid, Mr Potter."
*Willy and Enid:
Thank you for your kindness. I'll never forget it.
Harry Potter.*
He handed the paper and quill back, and tuned out the man's effusive thanks.
They met up with Malfoy in the lobby, and Harry said goodbye to Willy before following Malfoy to the lobby's set of fireplaces, lined up like a bank of lifts. Malfoy took a pinch of the red floo powder from the dispensers -- there were four colours all together, and Harry wondered what the other two did -- then a pinch of a silver variety from his own small bottle, which he said would let them past the manor's wards. The flames flared, and they stepped in, and in a moment the system spat them out in the India Zephyr room. Nilly and Rollie promptly appeared to clean the mess from the carpet and their clothes.
Malfoy looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Thanks for taking me," Harry mumbled, brushed off a stray bit of ash, and left to go find Sthanadu.
It felt like the middle of the night when the door opened. Harry blinked in the sudden light lancing past the tall figure, an expressionless silhouette which reached down and scooped him up. Harry pressed his face into Malfoy's shoulder, off-balance from the unaccustomed height and the swaying sensation of being carried.
Then he realized he *was* being carried.
"Put me down."
Malfoy said nothing, and Harry grabbed a fistful of conveniently long hair. "Put. Me. Down."
Wordlessly, Malfoy set him on his feet, and held his arm until he regained his equilibrium. "I... apologize, Mr Potter. Madam Saddler warned me not to upset you unduly."
Harry's lips thinned, holding in the words he really wanted to say. Several incidences made sudden sense: Lucius backing down, not throwing his rebellious escape through the window at him. "No need to apologize, Mr Malfoy. If it's all right with you, I'll just stay the night and be gone in the morning."
"You're not leaving."
"Ah, so that whole 'Get out, you filthy whore' thing was French for 'Why, Harry, are you lost? Do you need help back to your rooms?'"
"I did apologize for upsetting you."
"I don't *want* an apology, I want out of here."
"Impossible, Mr Potter." Malfoy took his arm, and led him down the dimly-lit corridor. "You are my ward, and you have no where else to go."
Harry tried to reclaim his arm, but Malfoy was stronger. "I'm going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until Sirius is free."
"Really? And how do you propose to get by in a magical society without the freedom to do magic?"
"Then I'll rent a room in muggle London."
Malfoy stopped short and pulled Harry around to face him. "Indeed. With this to carry around?" A large palm spread over his belly, engulfing the bulge entirely. They stared at each other for a long moment. "Your plans are ill-considered. The Ministry believes this to be the best place for you."
"The Ministry also left me at Privet Drive for sixteen bloody years," Harry said, then closed his mouth before he could contradict his earlier defence further.
Malfoy merely raised a brow at his hypocrisy and set off again, dragging Harry along. They walked in silence until they reached Harry's door, where Malfoy released him, and bowed. "Good night, Mr Potter."
Harry said nothing, and slipped inside his luxury prison.
* * * * *
No more schedules arrived, and Harry was left to fill his own time. Madam Saddler was not due for another six days, so Harry spent some time going through the books she had left, combing them for answers to some of his questions.
*Male Pregnancy the Natural Way*, the book on autonomantic pregnancy, was the more helpful of the two, and the more he read the more thankful he was that his body went and decided to have a child on its own. The Venusian method looked painful, complicated, and difficult, and it had a low success rate. Autonomancy, on the other hand, almost always progressed problem-free, even more so than many female pregnancies.
Broom-riding, he discovered, put abnormal pressure on the circumvenic channel, and could prevent it from forming properly -- which could cause serious tears during labour. He vowed to lock his broom in the garderobe and not look at it until January. The book reassured him on the matter of the actual birth however; the tissue became more elastic near the end of pregnancy, and would retain elasticity even after the child was born, making anal sex more comfortable. Harry grinned to himself, staring at the slowly revolving illustration, but the smile faded as he wondered if he would have any partners in the future. Much as he disliked the idea, he was still alive, and Draco was not. He didn't want to be celibate the rest of his life, yet he couldn't imagine being with anyone but Draco.
A cold, dull pain spread from his chest, and he set the book down, and curled up on the chaise lounge. He thought of Lucius' hand covering his belly, and felt ill.
* * * * *
The next few days passed in a quiet haze. Harry attempted to send Zimble after the letter in Draco's room, then spent three hours calming the house elf down; it seemed Harry was not the only one forbidden to touch Draco's things. After that, he stayed in his suite, knowing he would be tempted to retrieve the letter if he wandered around the manor.
The house elves were jumpy, and Harry wondered what Malfoy had done to them for 'allowing' him into the west wing. True to Zimble's promise, they had hung curtains around the bed, stringing them from thin silver chains attached to the ceiling. He didn't have the heart to tell them the material was too gauzy to bring him any comfort, but after the third night in the trundle bed, he noticed the space between the beds had been widened, making it easier to crawl in and out.
Schoolwork, *Male Pregnancy the Natural Way*, and the court of Hatshepsut filled his time, and he broke the long days of reading with walks down to the pond behind the owlry. Sometimes he met Sthanadu, and sometimes he did not, but he found her company amusing and looked forward to her unintentional humour. He thought she was growing fond of him in return, if snakes were capable of such emotion. At the very least, he kept the owls away.
On Wednesday, after Madam Saddler had come and gone, leaving him with a new photograph of his slightly larger alien and a scolding for his eating habits, an owl arrived for him.
He spilled ink all over his potions essay, and the owl bit him twice, but he got his hands on the letter. "And stay away from the snakes by the pond!" Harry shouted after the bird as it left. With trembling hands, he unrolled the scroll.
*Dear Harry,
According my research, Malfoy will only have a chance for custody if he can prove you would be an unfit parent. He'll have a better chance of that if you drop out of school, so I recommend you finish your final year, and make sure you have a career in mind for afterwards. I suggest you retain a lawyer just in case. You'll need to arrange care for the baby for the last two school terms, and provide all the necessities. You should talk to Dumbledore about your living arrangements, and find out whether it would be possible for you to live off campus or bring the baby into the dorm.
As for our friendship, I understand intellectually that Ginny's death was not your fault, however, I need time to deal with the fact that you chose Draco over Ginny. Please don't owl me again; I'll contact you when I'm ready.
Congratulations on the baby.
Hermione*
Parchment tore beneath his fingers, hands crushing the letter as some unknown force crushed his chest. "How can you *think* that, Hermione?" he whispered before his throat closed.
*"Get out of here, Harry!"
"I'm not leaving you." Gryffindor's sword heavy in his hand, a spray of silver sparks burning his skin.
"She'll be back soon."
Back with her hissing laughter and her boneless, half-naked, *stolen* vessel, and the spell she would cast so carelessly and make Draco's pale face turn purple, flesh swelling, eyes bulging, nails gouging the smooth neck he so liked to kiss and there was not a damn thing Harry could do to stop it because it had already happened.
"Too late, little dragon."
Hissed in parseltongue. No countercurse to the spell that came next, but he should have stepped in front of it, or struck her the moment she stepped in the door, or left her to die in the chamber below the school so long ago.
And he was *glad* she was dead, and maybe that was why everyone hated him.*
"Potter!" A slap snapped his eyes open, and he gasped, Malfoy standing over him, a dark scowl marring his face.
"You hit me." Harry's hand drifted up to touch his own cheek.
"You were hyperventilating. Zimble had to fetch me from a fire conference."
"You hit me."
"I could have let you continue until you passed out."
Harry roused enough to glare. "Don't you have a fire conference to get back to?"
"I cancelled it." Malfoy paused, tilting his head in the same way Sthanadu did before she asked a question she knew Harry would laugh at. "I need to visit the Ministry this afternoon. I don't suppose you would want to go."
Thoughts of lawyers and custody leapt again, and he crushed the mangled letter from Hermione. "What for?"
Malfoy stood so abruptly the hem of his robe briefly overcame gravity. "I was under the impression you were close to your godfather, Potter. Forgive the misapprehension."
"Sirius?" Harry also stood, and the parchment fell, forgotten. "What's Sirius doing at the Ministry?"
"Awaiting his trial like a good little convicted murderer. If you're coming, be down in the India Zephyr room at two o'clock. We shall attempt to take the floo."
Malfoy swept out, but Harry barely noticed. He ran back to his bedroom, which was engulfed by a swarm of house elves storing away the piles of clothing which had arrived from Apollonius.
"I need something nice to wear," he blurted. Zimble squealed, and promptly produced a bronze and black dress robe. "No, no... Look, what's the most *casual* clothing I have?"
After a minor debate with Rollie, Zimble laid out a pair of tan leggings and long, deep-red, tunic-style shirt. Harry sighed, then shucked his jeans, heedless of the bulging eyes on him, and scrambled into the clothes. He let Zimble cinch a belt low on his hips, then stamped into the boots Apollonius had included in the shipment. He paused at the mirror, and almost laughed at himself; all he needed was a scabbard to complete the outfit.
That brought thoughts of Gryffindor's sword, and he lost his smile.
Ready to go, Harry checked the clock on the wall; the hand with his face on it -- the only hand -- sat at 'early'. "Zimble, what time is it?"
"It is time for Sir to be--"
"Zimble, if I were to look at a muggle clock, what time would it say?"
"Four minutes past one, Sir."
Harry rattled his fingers on the desk, then grabbed the two photographs of his alien, and headed for the India Zephyr room to wait.
* * * * *
Harry had not seen Sirius since waking in the infirmary five weeks ago. He knew Sirius had turned himself in at some point after the Dark Lord's fall, on the condition that he receive a trial. What he hadn't realized was that Sirius would wait for his trial to begin from the Ministry's prison cells below the Magical Law Enforcement building.
Harry stomped after the guard Malfoy had left him with. The long row of cells with their metal doors gave him chills, and he wondered how like Azkaban it was and how Sirius was coping. "I don't know why you have him down here. Sirius *wants* a trial."
"Sorry, Mr Potter." The guard grimaced and ducked his head. "He's escaped before, so we've got to consider him a flight risk. MLE policy." The guard paused, opened his mouth, closed it, then spun around and knocked on one of the doors. "Visitor, Mr Black."
Harry pushed past the guard, and was struck motionless by the light and warmth. Sirius, curled up in a worn armchair, looked up from the book on his lap. The door snicked shut behind him.
"Harry!" The book fell, and Sirius bounded over, stopping just before manhandling Harry. "Is it true?"
A grin burst over Harry's face, and he impulsively dragged his godfather's hand to his stomach. The bulge pulsed.
"Oh my God. Harry, that's... oh my God."
"You're not angry with me?"
Sirius drew back, then embraced Harry, and pulled him over to the bed -- a soft four-poster. "Of course I'm not mad. I admit it took me a few days to adjust, and I probably *should* be mad, with you still in school and all... but it's a *baby*." There being only one chair, they sat on the edge of the bed and Sirius pulled Harry into the crook of his arm. "I remember when James told me Lily was pregnant... I went out a bought a training broom and a tiny set of quidditch robes the very same day. I think I was more excited than James."
Harry laughed, and sat up a bit; the angle made him dizzy. "They seem to be taking care of you." He glanced around the small room with its large rug, armchair, table laid out with a chess set, short bookcase stocked with reading material, and a brazier holding a fire.
"Better than some of the places I've lived. The food's terrible, but Willy out there sneaks me care packages from his wife. She even made me a scarf, just in case ye olde dank cell got cold." Sirius pointed to a multi-coloured monstrosity in wool draped over the back of the chair. It looked more like a shawl than a scarf. "How about you? I bet Mrs Weasley is fussing over you."
There was a silence before comprehension set in. "I'm not staying with the Weasleys."
"Why not? They can't hold what happened against you."
Harry swallowed hard. Sirius had been there. Sirius knew. "They... It's too soon. They don't need me there reminding them."
Sirius nodded, but tightened his arm around Harry. "Are you staying with the Grangers then?"
Harry shook his head. "The Ministry thought I needed to be with a wizard family. S'part of why they took me away from the Dursleys. Too many instances of autonomancy, they said."
"If those muggle relatives of yours weren't such... such *muggles* about things... Never mind. Where have you been staying? You're certainly looking well cared for."
Harry bit back a sharp retort; defending the Dursleys to Malfoy was one thing, but Sirius was his godfather. "I'm staying with Lucius Malfoy."
"*Malfoy*?" Sirius jerked around, gaze sweeping Harry in a new wave of assessment. "Tell me what happened and how he's been treating you."
Grateful to have a friendly ear at last, Harry poured out the tale, from his ill-considered visit to Malfoy Manor to Lucius' peace offering that morning. Sirius listened without interrupting, then sat back, eyes distant.
"At least Malfoy got you away from the Dursleys."
It was the last thing Harry had expected to hear from his godfather. "You're not worried he might take the baby away?"
"He can try. Listen, Harry, I know how much you hate your fame, but in this case it's an asset. You're *Harry Potter*. If Malfoy even tries, half the wizarding world will jump to your defence. You killed Voldemort twice by the age of sixteen. You can handle being a father at seventeen."
"Thanks, Sirius," Harry whispered.
"Which reminds me. It's your birthday next week, and I'm stuck in here. I might be able to con a scarf from Mrs Carmichael..."
Harry smiled. Sirius always knew what to say. "You don't have to get me anything. Just don't forget to come and get me the minute you're free."
"You'll probably be in school by then."
"What?"
"My trial date can't be set until the Office of Forensic Enchantments is done examining Pettigrew's body. Ms Juniper -- that's my lawyer -- thinks the soonest we can hope for is October."
"October!" That meant five more weeks of semi-imprisonment for Harry, and ten for Sirius. "Why so long? Isn't there any way to speed it up?"
"The Ministry took some harsh criticism for its former 'quickest-fix' policy. They're being cautious now. They won't commit to anything without verification in quadruplicate." Sirius brushed Harry's fringe back, and Harry shrugged off the gesture.
"I don't believe this. You already been here for..."
"Two weeks. It won't kill me, Harry. I'd rather they take their time if it means my name will be irrevocably cleared in the end."
Harry toyed with the end of his belt, pulling at the stitching. It mended itself the moment he let go.
Sirius reached over a stilled his hands. "What's this?" he asked, fingers hovering over the tops of the pictures peeking out from his pocket. Harry silently handed them over and watched his godfather's face shift through a gamut of emotions before he finally said, "This is the grossest thing I've ever seen."
Harry managed a smile. "Cool, isn't it?"
"Very. Can you tell if it's a boy or a girl yet?"
"Not yet. Madam Saddler says he's hiding it from us." Harry shifted under Sirius' gaze. "What is it?"
"Merlin. You're really pregnant. Do you... um... get sick in the mornings?"
"Not since I left the Dursleys. At least, not very often. And if I do it's at night, not in the morning. I've actually had more problems with sore feet and weird cravings."
Sirius laughed. "You must have gotten that from your mother. When Lily was about eight months along your father stumbled out of my floo one night at three in the morning. Apparently Lily wanted fruitcake in July, and James had been all over the country looking for some, and finally remembered my Aunt Elspeth sent me one every Christmas."
Harry grinned. "No wonder I hate fruitcake."
"Everyone hates fruitcake, Harry."
"With me it's Marmite. The house elves have been spoiling me though. I don't even have to ask for it, they just send a little dish with every meal."
"I'm glad someone is taking care of you."
"The elves are wonderful, even if they go overboard sometimes. And..." Harry took a deep breath, not wanting to leave his godfather trapped in a cell worrying over him. "And Lucius has been tolerable. Except for wanting custody of the baby. And for yelling at me in Draco's room."
Sirius ran his thumb along the photo's edge, hissed when it cut him. "Listen, if you need to talk about that--"
"It's all right."
"He was a self-centered little snot. But he was crazy about you."
"I know. But if you want to talk about Professor Lupin--"
"I'm dealing with it. Did Snape get a medal?"
Harry dredged up the memory of a specter of hollow smugness hovering over him. "I think so. He came to see me in the hospital wing, but I was pretty out of it."
"We'll have to do something nice for the greasy bastard," Sirius muttered.
"I could fall off the face of the earth."
They looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
* * * * *
Willy Carmichael came to fetch him at half past five. "Sorry, Mr Potter, but visiting hours were over at five, and Mr Malfoy's been waiting for you in the lobby."
Harry looked up from the massacre taking place on the table. "Well, at least I won't get my bum kicked for a fourth time." He rose from the bed as Sirius rose from the chair, and Sirius made a show of spinning him around.
"Sorry, Harry, but there's definitely four boot prints there."
Harry laughed, then blinked against a sudden prickling in his eyes. He hoped the lighting concealed it. Regardless of lighting and wet eyes, Sirius caught him in another embrace, awkward as Harry didn't quite know what to do with his hands. He finally settled for patting Sirius' shoulder, then gave up the pretense and hugged his godfather back.
"If you send an owl to me care of Juno Juniper of Witten and Gemot, she'll make sure I get it," Sirius whispered in his ear.
"I will." He pulled away, and followed the guard out of the cell. At the door he stopped and waved, and Sirius lifted a hand in return. The door shut with a hollow clang, and Harry turned away, enduring Willy's silent sympathy.
The guard paused at the base of the stairs. He had a piece of parchment, ragged on one edge where it had been torn from a larger sheet, and a self-inking quill in his hands. He clutched both to his chest.. "Mr Potter, do you think..."
Harry looked at the quill and parchment, and his first instinct was to stammer an apology and bolt. But then he thought of Sirius in the warm, well-lit cell, and the scarf across the back of the chair. "All right. What's your wife's name?"
"Enid, Mr Potter."
*Willy and Enid:
Thank you for your kindness. I'll never forget it.
Harry Potter.*
He handed the paper and quill back, and tuned out the man's effusive thanks.
They met up with Malfoy in the lobby, and Harry said goodbye to Willy before following Malfoy to the lobby's set of fireplaces, lined up like a bank of lifts. Malfoy took a pinch of the red floo powder from the dispensers -- there were four colours all together, and Harry wondered what the other two did -- then a pinch of a silver variety from his own small bottle, which he said would let them past the manor's wards. The flames flared, and they stepped in, and in a moment the system spat them out in the India Zephyr room. Nilly and Rollie promptly appeared to clean the mess from the carpet and their clothes.
Malfoy looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Thanks for taking me," Harry mumbled, brushed off a stray bit of ash, and left to go find Sthanadu.