Chapter 1

Warnings for this chapter: Alcohol? Lawl

Summary: After a drunken one-night-stand, Draco is left heartbroken and pregnant. When that also goes wrong, he convinces himself that he's not right for Harry and attempts to move on again. Several years later, however, a terrible incident lands him in St. Mungo's, where Harry finds him. With the blonde pregnant and slipping into depression, can Harry save the man he rejected so many years ago? And will he want to? Drarry. Not Epilogue compliant

Story Warnings: explicit sex both hetero and homo, slash, gang rape, m!preg, et cetera et cetera.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters or creatures. I do not own the setting, locations, and world used in this story. I own only the plot. This is a work of fiction. It is not based on actual events. I do not condone rape of any sort.

Alright guys. This is my first fanfic ever, so ….yeah xD Critique the heck outta it, but hey…. Be helpful and respectful about it hmm? Flames and trolling will be….either ignored or counter trolled lawl.

If all goes according to the nice little grid/table/chart I typed up, this will be 26 chapters long. Let's see how accurate I can get it

I've never actually been drunk, so I apologize for my horrid portrayal of a drunken Harry.

Hope you enjoy ~

- Flammy

AoAoAoAoAo

The noise in the common room was unbearable. The beat pounded, washing over the loud chatter and clanking of glasses and other objects as bodies writhed in time to the sound, so distorted it could barely be considered music. The air was infused with the stench of sweat and alcohol as the portion of students contained within this room partied themselves to oblivion. Only one quiet and still body remained in the main area, as the rest had had the good sense to retreat to the more private bedchambers. The particular person in question was seated in an armchair, the size of which was so large that it veritably swallowed him. It was removed from the main bustle, instead placed inconspicuously in a corner, it's occupant just as inconspicuous as he slouched into it, elbows on his knees. His white-blonde head drooped down, face lost into his hands, and his shoulders slumped. Really, Draco Malfoy was not quite in the mindframe that was required to enjoy this party. Unfortunately, the particular room that his bed lay in was now in use by some Slytherin couple, engaged in activities that the young man would rather not witness. So instead he sat here, amidst the chaos and trying fruitlessly to tune it out.

It was not to happen though, as he found out a moment later when an errant body collided into the side of his seat, tilting it dangerously and causing him to tumble to the floor. Cursing everything, the blond stood and directed a glower at the offending individual before retreating further to the outskirts of the room. Fate would not let him be, however, as an inebriated Theodore Nott snagged onto his expensive sweater and, grinning toothily, offered him a large goblet, filled to the brim with some obnoxiously scented concoction that smelt equal parts truckload of pure sugar, bushels of tobacco, a wagonful of woefully saccharine flowers, and bucketfuls of vanilla. Draco wrinkled his nose at the offensive refreshment, but accepted it anyhow when his dubious face did not deter his overeager friend, sipping it gingerly and finding, to his surprise, that it was actually quite delectable. The aforementioned overeager friend then tried to engage Draco in drunken chatter about who-knew-what, and the blonde found himself immensely grateful when a giggling Pansy Parkinson latched herself onto the other man. Excusing himself, he hastily squirmed through the pandemonium to the exit of the common room, breathing a sigh of relief as he entered the cool, empty corridors of the dungeons without.

Sipping his drink as he went, the Slytherin began to pad down the empty corridors, allowing his mind to wander. He would not be able to return to the common room anytime soon if he wanted to keep his head, nor should he be heading near the Great Hall. Even though it was merely the first week back to the great school, there had already been more school wide parties at Hogwarts than the blonde cared to count. Of course, it was only to be expected, what with the whole wizarding world finally free of the threat of Voldemort. So the people partied. But of course, the Slytherins weren't really held in good trust at the moment, and so their parties tended to be separate from the others, confined to the common rooms as the least currently populated of the houses did not wish to find themselves at the mercy of drunken idiots who might take it upon themselves to teach the Slytherins a lesson. Of course, he was the biggest target from this particular house. And yet here he was, wandering about the school all by his lonesome on the night he knew that everyone would be drunk. His lips quirked at the irony, before drooping again as he remembered why he was hated so much, remembered the ugly mark disfiguring his pale arm. He took another gulp of his drink, despondent now. He really ought to have been in Azkaban. The only thing that had saved him from the horrid prison was the Golden Boy himself, Harry Potter. Draco had been the most surprised when the saviour had stood in front of the Wizengamot and defended him for the wizarding world to see, telling them of how he was coerced into it, how he had saved their lives by refusing to identify the Gryffindor at Malfoy Manor, how he had been unable to murder Dumbledore in cold blood, how his family had been held hostage. How Potter had obtained these last tidbits of information was beyond him, but Draco was not complaining. The testimony, from the Saviour of the World, the Golden Boy himself, had been what got him off the hook for Azkaban, turning him loose with merely a month of house arrest and compulsory attendance to the repeated year at Hogwarts. Potter had vanished after the trial, although not before giving the Slytherin a strange look that Draco supposed was a glare attempting to masquerade as a friendly nod. After all, it would not do to glower at the person you had just selflessly defended now would it? Following that, Potter had taken to ignoring Draco completely. The blonde figured it had been the Golden Boy's hero complex that had caused him to show up at the trial at all, which that suited him just fine, for he hardly wished to speak to the spectacled freak anyhow. At least, that was what he had tried to convince himself of. In reality, hero-boy's actions at his trial had only served to fuell the spark of attraction Draco had always harboured, hidden away, into a little blaze that only grew steadily at all of his attempts to smother it.

Footsteps at the end of the corridor startled the Slytherin from his thoughts, and his hand flew immediately to his mother's wand that he kept tucked into his belt. Relief flooded him as no more than a couple of giggling first years rounded the corner, sobering immediately when they saw him and fixing him with a glare. Draco returned the glare with interest, adding a sneer for good measure, before hurrying away. When Hogwarts had reopened for its students, they had all been invited back to repeat the last year, as under Death Eater rule, not much had been taught that Hogwarts actually wanted learnt. This had, of course, resulted in twice as many first years as usual, as newbies had flooded to join the returning students. One could hardly go about the castle without bumping into one every five or so minutes. And on party nights like these…well, they all tended to get drunk, which was completely irresponsible of the older students and teachers in Draco's opinion. They would often stumble out of the Great Hall, and, empowered by intoxication, crowd these floors, hoping to catch a Slytherin and be a hero or whatever the hell they thought they were doing. Draco was not afraid of them, Merlin no, but it was an annoying inconvenience making sure they weren't trying to Wingardium Leviosa his hair out of place or something equally as horrid. Not to mention that his mother's wand didn't perform nearly as well as the Slytherin wished it would. With this in mind, he struck up a quick path to the higher floors, which were sure to be relatively devoid of people at this time of night. He also made a mental note to steal his original wand back from Potter at some point.

X0X0X0X0X0X

Harry lurched again. The world tilted dangerously, and only an automatic grip on the table saved him from falling over completely. As it was, he pulled on the tablecloth and managed to spill some alcohol, punch, and snacks all over. Laughing it off, he pushed himself upright, only to stagger backwards into a warm body. Hands quickly found his sides, steadying him, and he heard a familiar feminine voice asking, "Merlin Harry, are you quite all right? You're not drunk again are you?"

The boy hero turned his head, a bush of brown hair swimming slightly into focus. "Ah…Herro Hermyowneee" he slurred, petting her shoulder to assure her that he was clearly not drunk. A drunk person would have missed that shoulder after all.

Hermione's features rearranged into a partially disgusted frown as she looked her friend up and down. "You are drunk! Oh Harry-"

Whatever rant she had been about to start on was interrupted by a new voice, belonging to her boyfriend. "Oh lay off 'Mione! Harry here's a war hero! He killed old snake face! I think he deserves a drink….hell, he deserves to be drunk to!" The redhead punctuated his words with a toast of his bottle of Firewhiskey, aimed in Harry's general direction. Harry quickly retaliated, raising his own bottle and only just managing to skim Ron's. He counted it as a success as he brought the bottle back up to his lips, frowning when only a few drops fell into his awaiting mouth. After giving the unforthcoming bottle a few futile shakes, he discarded it to the already over laden table and picked up another bottle, this one full. Satisfied, he popped it open and was about to take a swig when a slim hand darted in and snatched it from under his nose. Hermione's cross voice followed right behind it.

"War hero or not, Harry, I think you've had quite enough to drink for one night. In fact, you ought to head up to the room right now. This is completely irresponsible, come along," she interrupted her rant by grabbing Harry's elbow and beginning to steer him out of the Hall. Harry immediately pulled away, not feeling up to being lectured all the way back to the common room.

"I can go on me own Hermyowneee…you you you…" he screwed up his face, trying to remember what he had been trying to say, "…Umm….you..you can stay with RonRon…yeah..tha's it.." He nodded earnestly upon seeing Hermione's sceptical face. "Really!"

Ron chose that moment to come to Harry's aid with a well placed "Don't smother him 'Mione, you know he hates that…" quietly into her ear.

The bushy haired witch sighed and huffed loudly, letting them all know that this was against her better judgement, before turning away with an 'Oh alright then'. Harry watched as she led Ron through the party, before turning and stumbling out of the Great Hall. There was no point in staying…if he knew 'Mione, which he did, she would be casting a suspicious eye about for him every five minutes for at least an hour…and then every ten minutes after that.

Deciding to cut his losses and head back for early retirement to the Gryffindor common room, Harry wobbled over to the stairs and began dragging himself up, using the hand railings more than the stairs themselves. He managed to make it all the way to the fifth floor before he felt his foot sink. Looking down, the Golden Boy saw that he had stepped into a trick stair. For some reason, this seemed inexplicably funny to the Gryffindor…he could defeat Voldemort but could not take on a stair? He found himself dissolving into giggles, leaning against the wall to support himself, until a soft cry of 'Oh Merlin!' interrupted him and caused him to look up. Standing there, silvery grey eyes wide, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry's eyes widened as well, as he gave the blonde Slytherin a quick once-over. Merlin but Malfoy was attractive. That's why he had been avoiding him all year. Only…no, that didn't make sense. Harry frowned to himself. Why on earth was he avoiding Malfoy when he should be trying to snog him senseless? That was ridiculous. Perhaps he had been Confunded. Yes, yes he had been confounded. But now he wasn't, and now he was going to kiss Draco Malfoy, Mind made up, Harry lurched forward, intent on snogging the breath out of the other. However, his foot, still caught in the trick step, pulled him back and he found himself falling instead, landing sprawled on the staircase at the blondes feet. Harry had a sudden urge to see those feet without the shoes and socks and grinned lewdly at them.

X0X0X0X0X0X

Draco wandered up the steps, lost to his thoughts. It really was nice in the castle when there was no one about, no one to tease or throw dirty looks at him. He felt at home like this. He felt safe. He felt….Potter? Was that Potter in front of him, foot ankle deep in a trick step and laughing hysterically against a wall?

"Oh Merlin!" The sound escaped him before he could stop it, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut, staring at Potter with wide eyes. Every nerve in him screamed to run, but he was paralyzed while the Gryffindor stared at him, no doubt formulating some horrid attack. Before either of them could make a move, however, Potter appeared to lose his balance and fall over, landing painfully on the stairs at his feet. Draco looked down at him, somewhat worried by his lack of reaction. The other was clearly drunk, but who knew if he was hurt as well? Common sense was screaming at Draco to just leave the Boy Wonder, save himself. But he couldn't just leave him. Potter had saved him from Azkaban, he reminded himself sternly, before stooping to catch the Golden Boy by his arms and lift him up.

"No funny business Potter," he ordered quietly, praying that the other would obey as he set about tugging the war hero's foot free. Potter, for his part, seemed to take Draco's words extremely seriously, and fell silent, staring at Draco with an intensity that utterly unnerved the blonde. It made him want to leave Harry to find his own way around, but if he did that…well, he may as well have left the boy stuck in the step and saved himself the trouble. Mustering up his meagre Slytherin courage, the blonde hefted the brunettes weight onto himself as much as possible, and began the long and tedious process of helping Harry up to his common room. He knew the way of course. Every Slytherin knew exactly where to find the other houses common rooms. None of them wanted to wind up alone too near any of them after all.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality could not have been longer than half an hour, he was panting outside a painting of a rather large woman in a garish pink dress, who was eyeing him suspiciously. "Password?" She asked, her tone clearly indicating that she knew he didn't know it, and that nothing would please her more than denying him entry. Draco frowned at that tone, before looking at Potter. The idiot was staring at him, a dopey grin on his face, obviously miles away. Letting out an annoyed, but dignified, huff, the blonde turned back to the obese woman, offering her a charming Malfoy smile.

"I'm afraid I don't have the password-" he began, only to be rudely interrupted.

"No password, no entry," she informed him coldly, her eyes glinting. Draco suppressed a sigh, his smile still carefully in place, as he gestured at Potter.

"The Saviour-" he tried again, and found himself cut off again.

"No password, no entry," she repeated in a hiss, leaning forward as much as a portrait can. Draco finally let his sigh through. He should have seen this coming. Dropping all airs and graces, he told her plainly,

"Look, he's drunk and can barely keep himself upright. Please just allow me to get him to bed!" He knew before he was finished, however, that it was no use. The large woman's face was getting colder and colder, and by the end of his little imploration he could almost feel the chill in the air. As she opened her mouth to rebuff him yet again, a different voice cut in.

"Twiddledumkins"

"I beg your pardon?" Draco stared at Potter, wondering what he was nattering on about this time. The Fat Lady, however, seemed to understand, for she pulled the ugliest stink face Draco had seen in his entire life before swinging forward to reveal a round hole. Groaning at the extremely inconveniently placed hole, Draco helped Potter through, having to almost lift the other off the ground and support most of his rather considerable weight. His muscle, the blond decided, whilst pleasing to look at was rather a pain.

A little crash alerted him that Potter had fallen through, and the blond quickly scrambled after him lest the irate portrait close on him.

"Don't know why I'm doing this" he groused, before hoisting Potter up and dragging him up to the 7th year dorms. "And you'd better be grateful you prat!" he warned him as he deposited the Golden Boy into his bed and turned away. Before he could leave, however, a hand closed around his wrist. Draco didn't even have the time to finish asking 'What are you doing?' before Potter pulled him almost on top of himself and pressed their lips together.