55Chapter 20: ASTTWT 9: Of Poisons and Fellytones
And so the Tables Were Turned …, part nine: Of Poisons and Fellytones
He looks at his son, his youngest since Blaise is dead, and wonders what Joz possibly could have done to change him that much, because this is not the same Timothy that Harry and Draco raised. Sure, he has always been a very troubled boy because of his ability to see and feel the future as well as the past, and because of the immense weight on his shoulders caused by his duties as a Time Manipulator, but none of that had ever weighed him down like this. He had always been able to smile and have fun, and he had always been a very pleasant child.
But now … there is only pain left in him, a pain that Harry can relate to all too well. It is the same pain that weighs down his own heart—the pain of loss and the pain of awareness, but also the pain of one's actions. And if Harry's instinct can be trusted in this matter, he thinks that Timothy has done some really bad things under Joz's control. Studying his son, Harry tries to figure out where it went wrong, when this started, but he cannot remember when Timothy started to turn into this emotionless robot.
He has succeeded to persuade Timothy into sitting down with him in the parlour, a room which Harry has not entered for more than eight years. There are too many memories that might be triggered by coming into this room, and it is still too painful to think about Draco and everything that he has lost. But he sits there for Timothy's sake, and maybe the fact that he is willing to sit in the parlour is what has made Timmy consent to this chat.
Harry chooses his words carefully. "What exactly is it that Joz has done to you?" he asks. "And what is her agenda? Do you know anything at all about her intentions, other than her wish to make the world a beautiful place again?"
The boy is silent for a very long while, and Harry almost believes that he has lost the ability to speak altogether. But then he opens his mouth. "She is sleeping," he says cryptically.
Harry frowns. "Sleeping? Does that mean that her hold on you isn't as strong as it usually is?"
"That is correct."
"So this is pretty much our only chance to figure out a way to free you?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Have you any idea how we're going to manage that?"
"I am afraid not. But we have two hours. Usually she likes to sleep for three hours in the middle of the day to collect her strength and recharge her powers. She has now been asleep for sixty-two minutes."
"Only two hours … so we don't really have time to look up any spells …"
Harry almost jumps when Timothy begins to laugh. It is the first sign of humanity and life that he has given him since he came home. The boy shakes his head, and says, "And you of all people should need books to find useful spells? How many years have you fought the dark side now? Twenty-eight years, no? And you really think you need to rely on books?"
Harry stares at him with his mouth hanging open. "You're laughing …"
Timothy abruptly stops when he realises that he is actually displaying emotion. "You are right, Harry—I am." He is silent for a few seconds. "Perhaps her hold on me is not as strong as I thought."
"Correct me if I'm wrong: You're aware of her influence on you, but you can't ignore it?"
"That is correct," Timothy says again.
"So all we need to do to fully free you of her spell is to eliminate the source of it. The necklace."
Timothy shakes his head. "Not just the necklace—you need to eliminate her. Only then will I be free. Are you prepared to kill your own daughter if it comes down to that, Harry?"
Harry studies him, rendered speechless by indecision. Then, he says, "If I do, and you are freed, will you really be able to save my Dracums? Will you really be able to prevent his death?"
"Yes. His and Blaise's, I am sure. I cannot say for sure that I can save Tom, though. Sorry, James, I mean. His is an uncertain destiny, hard to read even for me. But I will try my best."
Harry licks his dry lips. "And … Piper? Piper and the others?"
The boy frowns. "What about them?"
"Are they … are they dead?" He is almost too afraid to ask. He does not want to hear the answer, because he already knows it. He can feel it.
Timothy lowers his gaze. "Yes, they are. They are dead."
"And she killed them?"
"Yes. I will make up for everything that she has done to you, Harry. That is a promise."
"Thanks. But first, tell me … did you have anything to do with it? Did she use you to …?"
"To be honest with you, I do not know."
"Okay. Yes, I am prepared to kill her if there is no other solution. If it means that I will help save the lives of at least eleven people … then I will do it. Maybe, in a way, it will save Joz, too."
Yet again, the boy shakes his head. "No, she is beyond saving. She is a deeply disturbed woman, insane from birth. I know you never noticed, but she was always very different. That is why I never played with her as a child. I could see her evil aura. I could feel it. Please, Harry, you have to save me, I cannot take this anymore. I need to break free. I need to save Draco."
Harry regards his boy with a slight hesitancy. There is still something bothering him. "Timothy … why haven't you ever called me Daddy, or father? You've never really called Draco anything like that, either, unless he expressly made you. You always called us by our names. Why?"
"Because a father is something you become of choice, not something that you are. It is like a profession. If you were a florist you would not want me to call you Florist, would you?"
"No. Not really. So, calling me father would be like calling me Professor?"
"Yes, but you do not teach anymore."
"That is of no relevance, Timmy. But what is of relevance is that the war is coming to an end. In a matter of weeks, we will be free of Pywercaseley's regime, and everything will slowly start to go back to normal. As normal as it could ever be without Dracums, that is …" He bites his lip.
Outside, the rain is falling again—the rain that seems to dye the world a grey-tinted blue-green nowadays. Fat drops patter against the window panes. The gardens look awfully deserted to Harry, and he longs to walk on the lawn again, walk down to the lake … maybe sit by the shore for a while. But not without Draco. Never again without Draco. Eight long years … eight bloody years alone …
"The … the war is coming to an end?" the boy stutters, a tremor in his voice.
Harry looks at him. For the first time in many years, there is hope in the boy's eyes. He nods. "Yes, the Death Eaters are retreating. We're winning, Timothy."
"Wi-winning? Really? It's going to stop? For real?"
"Yes, otherwise they wouldn't have sent me home, would they?"
A smile is forming on the boy's thinned lips. "She will have no hold on me …" But then he abruptly stops, and fear comes to his eyes, pales them. Shaking, he whispers, "She is waking. She knows I have told you. She will punish me for this, she will torment me again … I do not want that pain again … please, not the pain … I am so sorry …"
Harry anxiously rises from his seat. "Timmy? Timmy, what is she doing to you? Timmy, answer me!"
The boy is shaking worse by the second, and his eyes are wide with utter and stark, naked terror. "She says that we will all be punished for this—she says that the end of the war will be avenged in the most hideous way any man can imagine. She says that the war will go on. It will never end. Never end."
No, not again, not again … Argh, the pain spread through his intestines and his groin … the pain … it was like nothing else he had ever experienced, not even the pain that he had felt when he was pregnant with James and Tom did all those hideous, evil things. This was a pain out of this world. And, yep, there came the blood. Great. Just great. "I'll bloody kill her for this …"
He flushed and exited the downstairs bathroom, passing Sensitive Piper and Malfoy Piper as he stormed out into the kitchen where Gluttony Piper was currently wolfing down her second cake for the day. "Piper!" His black-clad sister turned in astonishment when she heard him calling her name. "I need a word with you in private, please. It's urgent, so just leave your little Japanese friend there and come with me to the den, please."
She came without protests, something that he was glad for. As soon as they had closed the door behind them, she said, "What is it? I'm busy."
Draco went straight to the point. "Have you done anything to me?"
She blinked. "Done anything to you? No. Why would I do that?"
Draco hesitated. The astonishment on her face was genuine. "And you are sure you haven't poured anything into my tea or some such?" he pressed.
"No. What is this—the Spanish inquisition?"
"There's something wrong with me …"
"Oh, so that's why!" she exclaimed sarcastically. "There's something wrong with you and you decide that I have to be the one responsible for it, is that it?"
"Yeah, what else am I supposed to think after everything you've tried on me?! So, tell me honestly—have you put anything in my tea? Have you put any spells on me in my sleep?"
"I'm telling you no, Draco! I haven't!"
Draco was silent for a long while.
Piper noticed the anxious frown on his face. "Why? Has something happened?"
"I … I'm feeling weird …"
She blinked again. "You're feeling weird? That's it?"
Draco felt embarrassed to admit it, but he understood that he needed to tell her what his problem was. "Piper, I've been peeing blood for a month," he whispered.
"Peeing blood? That can't be good."
"I know. That's why I want to know what you make of it," he said worriedly.
She pondered the matter for ten seconds or so. "I don't know for sure, but it might be something you ate. Or it might be a bad case of cystitis … Have you fallen and landed on your kidneys recently?"
Now Draco blinked in lack of understanding and bafflement. "Excuse me? Who the Hell falls and lands on his kidneys?!"
"Sorry, must've been Stupid Piper speaking," Piper excused herself.
Something began to stir within Draco. Feeling awkward, he slowly massaged his stomach. It was bubbling, churning. "All right … so you don't know, then?" he demanded. He was starting to feel rather queasy, not all that different from the nausea he had experienced during his pregnancies.
"Sorry," Piper said.
"Alright. Don't tell Harry, okay? I don't want to worry him without a reason …"
"Is it really without a reason if you're worried, Draco? Hey, are you all right? You look a bit pa—"
Suddenly Draco was forced to bend over double as a surge of vomit rose from his stomach, and he was utterly disgusted with himself when today's lunch splashed down onto his perfect, spotless, very expensive floor. But it did not stop with the lunch; when nothing was left in his stomach to spew up, the gag reflex went deeper and drew some blood. No, not just some blood; suddenly it was spurting out of him, and there was no end to it! It would not stop! He felt fear rising from the depths of his soul, because this was not normal, this was not good; he was going to fucking vomit to death!
Piper gasped. "Oh, my God! Hematemesis! Harryyyyyy!"
Draco wanted to say "Not Harry," but he could not speak because of all the blood; he could not even breathe. Oh, Lord, he was losing consciousness, he was—
The world went black.
A blur—everything was a blur. When the world finally swam back into focus, he noticed Harry sitting bent over him, anxiety and fear written all over his face. Draco wanted to smooth out those lines.
"Dracums? Dracums, can you hear me?"
"Mmm, yeah, but shut up, my head's bursting …"
Harry drew a breath of relief. Draco noticed that he was holding his hand. "Thank God! I thought I had lost you!"
Draco knitted his brows. "Lost me? Whaddaya mean? I just puked a little, 's all."
"Just puked a little?! It was hematemesis, for fuck's sake!"
"Hemate-what? Is that a disease?"
"Hematemesis," Harry repeated impatiently. "Vomiting of blood."
"Oh. Couldn't you just have said that instead? I don't understand fancy medical terms."
"Draco, this is serious. Someone's subjected you to some sort of slow-working poison. That's why you vomited blood, and that's why you've been peeing blood for the last month. Yes, I know about that—what, you think I'm stupid and don't notice that sort of thing? If Piper and I hadn't got you to the hospital in time, you would have died. It was close this time. Too close."
He was released from the hospital three days later, but was still feeling awkward. He still could not eat as much as usual, and his throat still burnt as if he had swallowed fire. There still were no traces leading back to the person who had poisoned him, and since he could not quite pinpoint the day he had started to feel weird, they had practically nothing to go on.
Ron came over that day to see how he was doing, and Draco was flattered that the weasel actually cared about him. "How are you? Are you okay? Have you any trouble because of the poison? Are you in pain? Christ, I was so worried!" Ron's words came in a spray of spit, and he sort of resembled an automatic gun.
Draco just laughed and gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Of course I'm fine! I don't have any pain at all! But thanks for asking, mate."
"Of course, I— Ugh, that is so disgusting!" he exclaimed all of a sudden.
Draco and Harry both blinked at the redhead. "What?"
Ron pointed at their necks. "Those love marks! Uuuugghhh! You're doing it now, when you're in each other's bodies?! Mate, that's like having sex with yourself—that's gross!"
Draco just shrugged his shoulders. "What?" he said, unimpressed. "I was inside him just five minutes ago, and I didn't find it gross."
Ron covered his eyes with his right hand. "Yuck, mate! I've always tried to block out the fact that you blokes must be sleeping with each other, and let me tell you that I've managed just fine until now! Sure, your pregnancies kind of made it difficult for me, but you'd be surprised to learn how much the brain can suppress. Blimey, I'm going to have nightmares for a month!"
Harry and Draco just laughed at him.
A cry of utter terror came from the kitchen.
Exchanging knowing looks, they silently decided to go check it out. All three of them ran into the kitchen, wands at the ready. Gluttony Piper was lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, dead. Towering above her unmoving body, Malfoy Piper was standing with a replica of the real Piper's wand, murderously and cold-heartedly directing a huge butcher's knife at the fat clone. There was blood everywhere. When she noticed them just inside the door, she smiled viciously. "What? A Malfoy never uses her hands," she said in a malicious tone. "Besides, she was just eating all the time—wasn't of any good to anybody. And it was fun."
Draco could have never imagined that his sister had that in her, and he was immensely thankful that she was so skilled at suppressing her Malfoy genes.
"Incarcerous Totilae!" Harry shouted, and heavy steel chains came out of the tip of his wand, binding Malfoy Piper. "Mobilicorpus!" He swiftly moved her to one of the empty second-floor rooms and bound her to a straight-backed chair, sealed the windows and locked the door. They would keep her there for the remainder of the spell, when the clones dissolved or whatever would happen.
Scared and somewhat shaken by what he had witnessed, Ron returned home shortly thereafter.
They went up to their bedroom to have some privacy, away from the rest of the clones. Draco sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing deeply. "This is just getting worse and worse," he said.
Harry rummaged through Draco's wardrobe. "I know what you mean," he agreed. "First the resurrection of Lord Pywercaseley, then Piper's spell backfiring and creating those blasted clones, then someone poisons you without either of us noticing, and now your sister's Malfoy genes are murdering her other personality traits. Couldn't anything ever be normal around here?"
Draco laughed bitterly. "Is there any such thing as normality in this world?"
Harry stopped rummaging around in the wardrobe and sat down on his left. He gently kissed Draco on the cheek. "There, there. Don't be so pessimistic. There are loads of normal things in this world."
Draco snorted. "Yeah? And that's supposed to be the Muggles, or what?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But don't think too much about it, it'll only give you a headache, babe." He roughed Draco's hair a bit. Tenderly, he kissed him right over his left ear. Teased with his tongue along the ridge of his ear. Draco laughed. "Harry … you're in that mood, huh?"
Harry twisted a strand of his long blond hair coquettishly, fluttering innocently with his semi-long lashes. "Maybe …," he said, eliciting another laugh from Draco. Then he stood up and held out his hand. "Dance with me."
Draco blinked. "What?"
"Dance with me," Harry repeated, a lovely smile on his rosy lips.
"Da-dance with you? Now? But there is no music …"
"Do you need music?"
Harry encouraged him to stand up and carefully put his arms around him slow-dance-style. His eyes fixed on Draco's, his nose only half an inch from the blonde's, his warm breath on his pale skin, Draco just could not refuse him. Without another word, he put his arms around Harry and rested his cheek on Harry's shoulder; closed his eyes. They moved to the rhythm of their heartbeats, the only music they needed.
Since Harry was now five months pregnant and really starting to get large around the waist, Draco had to kind of lean forward in order to embrace him. Harry's breasts pressed against the blonde's pounding chest. He held him tighter, pressed closer, desperate to make the feeling of being as one stronger and purer. The lovely scent of his boyfriend made him high, euphoric, and he thought to himself that it was dangerous to be this happy.
In a low, melodious voice, Harry began to hum a slow, sweet melody that Draco did not recognise. He kissed Draco's hair, caressed his back, shoulders, and the back of his neck; nibbled at his earlobe. Draco sighed happily. He was glad that Harry had asked him to dance, because even if it was corny to move around without music, it was bloody lovely.
Harry placed gentle kisses in a line between his ear and the corner of his mouth, finally resting his lips on Draco's. Draco happily reciprocated the kiss, tightening their embrace, feeling as though he was rising from the ground and now hovering above it. "Oh, Harry … how can you be so bloody perfect?" he murmured against Harry's soft skin.
He could feel the smile on Harry's face rather than see it. "Because I'm you, remember?"
Draco thankfully teased Harry into another sweet, long, wet kiss, because that was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He held his hands around Harry's smooth face while Harry slowly pulled the white shirt out of Draco's trousers; shivers travelled down Draco's spine as his lover's fingers lightly touched the small of his back. The raven-haired boy continued by putting his hands inside Draco's trousers, slowly and sensuously massaging his firm buttocks. To Draco's surprise this instantly aroused him—but that might be because of the hot skin contact. He began to breathe faster, heavier. "Harry …"
Harry silenced him by forcing him into another session of snogging. A healthy flush was swiftly colouring their cheeks a rosy red as they became more aroused and their kissing became deeper.
Draco stuck his hands inside the raven-haired boy's jumper, hungrily touching his burning skin, anxious to feel those strong arms around him and anxious to be as close as two people could be. Close to Harry's lips, he breathed: "I want you …"
Harry seemed to want to swallow him whole when he once again stole a long, hot, semi-wet kiss. Panting slightly, he replied, "Oh, baby, I want you, too, I want you so bad, I want to be inside of you now and forever."
"Lucky for you, it's your turn," Draco managed to joke, although he was dead serious to get under the covers as soon as possible so as not to ruin the wonderful, perfect physical chemistry between them. He gripped the edges of Harry's jumper and slowly, teasingly pulled it up over his moderate belly, his chest, and ultimately his head. The blond hair became tousled and stood out on the sides because of static electricity.
A happy smile spread on Draco's face. With love and affection, he put both his hands on Harry's belly—caressed it slowly. "I'm going to be a father," he said wondrously, and looked up to meet Harry's eyes.
Harry was smiling, too. Apparently in a jocular mood, he said, "And evidently, I'm going to be a mother."
Draco laughed. "Not quite what you expected when you became my boyfriend that night five years ago, eh? I'm glad it happened, though. I love being a father. And I'd love a hundred kids."
Harry caressed his cheek. "I know you would, baby. Come here."
Draco obligingly went into his arms, receiving a tender kiss with closed eyes and tingling nerves. He gasped for breath as Harry unbuttoned and removed his shirt, then gave a short shriek when Harry unzipped his jeans and put his hand inside. Draco bit his lower lip and threw his head back slightly when he felt the hand massaging his groin, frequently brushing against his successively hardening erection. He desperately grabbed hold of Harry's cotton trousers and pulled them off. Then he hissed: "Throw me down on the bed—now!"
Harry did as told and aggressively threw him down onto the bed, following close behind but taking it easy not to hurt the baby. Draco swiftly kicked off his jeans, but he let Harry remove the black boxers. Harry deliberately touched his erection several times while pulling down his underwear just to tease him, and Draco moaned impatiently, urging him to hurry, hurry. Not satisfied with the slow pace, he finally rose into a sitting position and gently, sensuously pulled down Harry's underwear.
He took Harry's knob in his mouth and made him cry out in pleased surprise. "God!"
But Draco withdrew after just a few seconds, laying straight back down. "Now you can slide right in," he said teasingly.
Harry did not delay their union for a second, but gently placed himself atop Draco and, after figuring out how to best perform with his somewhat large abdomen, penetrated him, eliciting a contented squeal from the blonde, who immediately rose to meet him half-way. Harry thrust deep into him, all the while kissing his lover passionately, not wanting to part from his soft lips for even a second. In response, Draco dug his fingertips into Harry's back, leaving red marks on pale skin that was taught over firm, working muscles.
"Ah, Harry! Harry! Yes!" The blonde tensed and bucked and thrashed—and Harry thrust harder in kind, faster; harder, faster …
Draco gripped Harry's left buttock and tried to push his lover even deeper into him. He locked gazes with him, that lovely, beautiful creature that was his. "Harry …" He was on the verge of exploding. "Harry, come with me! Please, come with me! Co—"
The last word died out as Draco reached climax and cried out one last time. At the same time, Harry stiffened and made little half-choked squeaky noises in rhythm with his quick, shallow breathing. For a while, they just lay there gazing into each other's eyes, their breathing slowly settling back into a more normal rhythm. Eventually, Harry rolled off and lay on his back beside the blonde.
Neither of them spoke.
They just lay there, savouring the moment.
"That was exactly what I needed," Draco later sighed happily.
Harry snuggled up closer. "Me too, baby."
But Draco did not quite feel done yet, so he slid down somewhat and began to place small kisses along Harry's chest. Lazily drew circles and patterns on his lover's skin with his tongue, slowly working his way down to the navel, where he did a temporary stop before continuing down to the nether regions.
Harry stiffened. "Dracums, what are you doing?"
"Getting you fired up again, babe; I'm not finished with you. I want you to scream just like you did last time. I wanna see how far you can go."
"Erm, why …?"
"Because it turns me on, what d'you think?"
"But I won't be able to get aroused again, I— haaaah …"
Draco had just reached Harry's groin and was using both his tongue and his hands to massage some action into him. And he got an immediate response, too. Sneering up at the raven-haired boy, he taunted: "And you were saying …?"
"Go on! Please, go on!"
"Your wish is my command, master." He played with Harry's penis for a while before working his way back up again, kissing a little here, licking a little there, biting and nibbling where he knew that Harry was extra sensitive … Furthermore, he spent a minute or two playing with Harry's rigid nipples, a move that made Harry buck and gasp for breath. "Oh, God, yes … keep it going, keep it going, it's so bloody good …"
Draco smiled mischievously and bit down on Harry's nape. "Ah! Take me, Draco—please!" But Draco just shook his head and nibbled at Harry's earlobe instead. Sucked on a bit of extra sensitive skin on his jawbone. "Draco, please … no more foreplay … no more foreplay … fuck me … fuck me hard! Please, now … now …"
This was exactly the kind of verbal reaction Draco was after, and he was curious to find out what Harry might shout this time. He wondered if the raven-haired boy would demand him to hit him again. Maybe that was what really turned Harry on? A slap in the face and some deep scratches on his chest? Was he, after five years of active sex life, discovering that he was a masochist? Draco sure hoped that he would not have to get violent with Harry in order to please him in the future, because he could not stand hurting him. Not even if that was what he wanted.
But now he was willing to do whatever it took to bring out the kinky side hidden deep within his calm lover. Steadying himself, he did as Harry wished and pushed inside him. He started by moving gently and slowly inside of him, but then he picked up speed and changed his approach somewhat so he would now thrust against Harry's prostate.
Harry gasped for breath and threw his head back. "Oh, God, yes—more, more! Harder, do me harder, hurry, hurry …"
Hearing Harry shouting out in pleasure like that made Draco burn hotter with desire, so he moved faster and thrust harder, just like Harry wanted, and he was rewarded with more dirty talk from his lover: "Oh yes, give me that huge, hard dick—show me what a whore I am!"
A growing tinkling started in the blonde's groin and slowly spread outwards. "Harry … God, Harry …"
"Yes, Draco, yes! Harder, harder, harder! Trash me, do me, fuck me blue!" Harry slammed his hips up in a desperate attempt to force Draco deeper into him, and shouting his pleasure out loud, he gripped two handfuls of crisp bedspread and clenched his hands together so hard that his knuckles turned white. Draco performed one last trembling thrust before collapsing on top of him, panting.
"You didn't ask me to slap you again—good," he breathed.
Harry studied him with bafflement. "I asked you to slap me?"
"Yeah, during our wonderfully lovely make-up sex," Draco informed him.
"I did? Really? Maybe it was because I was so furious and frustrated. Maybe I needed an extra spark that time."
"Maybe …" Draco rolled off him and crawled down beneath the covers. "Well, good night."
"Wait—you're gonna sleep now?!"
"Yeah, I'm exhausted! Aren't you?"
"No. Actually I'm quite energised now thanks to you, Dracums."
"Sorry to disappoint you, then, but I'm beat. Good night."
Harry was awakened by someone's voice the next morning, and in his drowsy state, he sort of thought that one of the clones had come to disturb their morning peace. But when he opened his eyes and turned around, on the other hand, he found that the person speaking was Draco. "Baby?" he said sleepily, putting his arm around Draco, burying his face in his lover's tousled morning hair.
"Mmm, that's good … keep going …," Draco murmured in his sleep.
A kinky smile formed on Harry's lips. "You dreaming about last night, babe?"
Draco tensed his shoulders. "Ooohh, Blaise, that's so good … mmm, don't stop! Yeah, right there, a little bit harder, please … oooohh …"
Harry stiffened when he heard the name 'Blaise'. What the …?
Anger getting the best of him, he roughly shook Draco. "Hey! Wake up!" he demanded.
The blonde stirred and opened his eyes with some effort. "Wha'? Where's the fire? Wha's happenin'? Is someone trying to kill you?"
Harry forced him to roll onto his back so he could look him in the eyes. "What the Hell were you dreaming just now?!" he demanded.
Draco blinked in confusion. "Wha— Dreaming? I wasn't dreaming anythi—"
"Ooh, yes you were! You were saying 'Blaise, harder!' for fuck's sake!"
Draco frowned. Then something seemed to hit him. "Oh! Now I remember! I was dreaming that Blaise massaged my shoulders because I had been lifting bricks all day! Yeah, that's it … I had this weird dream about Hogwarts being shut down and we all had to go work at a building site … It was reeaally weird, Harry. Why? And why are you looking at me like that?"
Harry studied him suspiciously. "Are you sure that was the entire dream? Nothing else happened? You didn't …?"
"Didn't what?" Draco asked in bewilderment. But then he understood what Harry was getting at. "Oh. You thought I had a wet dream about Blaise, didn't you? Sorry to disappoint you, Harry, but he wasn't pleasing me." He said it in a jocular tone of voice, but Harry was not laughing. A mischievous smile spread across Draco's face. "Harry … are you jealous of a dead man?"
"No!" Harry spat out way too quickly. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, sulking. "Yes."
Draco laughed and stroked Harry's knee. "You don't have to be. Blaise is dead, and even if he'd been alive you wouldn't have had to worry 'cos Blaise was straight. Now calm down."
Harry sulked for the rest of that morning, but it was hard to stay mad at Draco so he gave up around noon. He let Draco persuade him into accompanying him to the parlour, where they lay down next to each other on their favourite couch. They just lay there in silence for an hour or so, listening to the perfect silence of the Manor—a sign that none of the clones were at home at the moment. Eventually, they decided to take advantage of that opportunity …
The doorbell rang at 1.15, and Genki Piper went to open. She and the other clones had returned home from another training session only five minutes earlier—the real Piper was in Japan with Yousuke—and most of them were in the kitchen making lunch snacks.
Genki was quite surprised that someone was at the door, because all Harry and Draco's friends either used the fireplace in the den or Apparated straight in. Therefore, she was extra surprised to find Ron on the doorstep.
Ron missed hanging out with Harry, and even though it sort of grossed him out to see his best friend in Draco's pregnant body, knowing that they were still 'having fun' when the sun went down, he decided to pay them a short visit that early afternoon. Since he did not want to walk in on anything, he rang the doorbell rather than going straight in through the fireplace.
Piper answered the door and seemed quite astonished to see him. "Wonnie Lonnie!" she said with a huge smile. "What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in! How are you?"
"Er … I'm fine," Ron said somewhat numbly. "Which one of them are you?"
"I'm Genki!" she introduced herself, with energy to spare.
"I figured as much. Look, is Harry in? I really need to see him about something …"
"Oh, sure! They're in the parlour; you just go straight in, Wonnie-boy!"
Ron cleared his throat and went past her. "Thanks, I guess." He went straight into the parlour but stopped one step inside the archway when he registered the display before him.
Harry and Draco were on the couch, and they were definitely getting it on. They were not naked or anything, but Draco—or was it still Harry in Draco's body?—had his hands inside Harry's open fly, expectantly rubbing his privates. Harry was bent over Draco, his tongue shoved deep into the blonde's mouth, his hands working at the buttons in the expensive silk shirt.
Draco moaned and moved his hands from Harry's open fly to Harry's stomach, lifted the fabric of the midnight blue T-shirt and caressed his exposed skin … They looked so wonderfully hot together that Ron could not stop staring. He was completely fascinated with their apparent love for each other and the silent understanding they shared.
He stared at the hands moving on Harry's belly, mesmerised … stared at their flushed cheeks, their closed eyes, their joined mouths … eagerly listened to their strained breathing …
He shook himself out of his paralysis and, very much embarrassed, cleared his throat as loudly as he could and said, "Erm, excuse me for interrupting, but Genki told me it was okay to come in, so I, er …"
Harry and Draco instantly separated, Harry standing up next to the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. He regarded Ron with evident anger and dislike. Draco remained on the couch, sitting up slightly. "What do you want?" Harry said coldly. "Say it quickly and then get the Hell out of here, because I won't bloody let you ruin this perfect mood."
Ron fidgeted nervously. "So, I take it you're still Malfoy, then?" he stated.
Harry's body rolled its eyes. "So bright, this one …"
"Draco," Harry-in-Draco's-body warned from the couch.
Ron found that he could not stop staring at Harry's stomach. Or, well, the stomach that belonged to Harry's body but which was now technically Draco's. "Man," he said numbly, "is it sick of me to actually get turned on by you guys?" He could not have stopped the words even if he had wanted to.
Both boys raised their eyebrows in astonishment.
"Excuse me? What did you say?" Harry wondered.
Ron fidgeted even worse. "I, er... hrm, I actually got kind of turned on by watching you—"
"You were watching us?!" Draco exclaimed with fury.
"Erm, no, I mean, only for a minute or so … I kind of couldn't take my eyes off you, I … Boy, you two are really hot together. Don't take this the wrong way, but you look bloody sexy together, you two do." He blushed and had to lower his gaze.
Harry regarded him with wariness in his grey eyes. "Should we say 'thank you?'" he wondered.
Draco impatiently stamped his foot down twice. "Did you want something or could you please leave us alone so I can continue being pleased by my partner?"
"Draco!"
"What? He bloody interrupted us when we were finally getting to the good part!"
Ron nervously cleared his throat. "Well, I don't really remember why I came here now, so … I'll just leave. Take care."
He left the Malfoy Manor feeling more confused than he ever had in his entire life.
Boy, did he have some thinking to do!
Draco did get his action—eventually. Around four that afternoon, he busied himself with dusting off the coffee tables in the den to get away from the bloody clones. He did not even notice that the fire in the fireplace turned green and that a female shape emerged from it—not until she greeted him.
"Hey, Harry!"
Draco jumped in fright and swirled around. Cho Chang was standing before him. Putting his hand on his chest, he breathed, "Merlin's beard, you scared me!"
She took a few steps into the room. "How are you Harry? Are you … alone?" She looked around the room.
Draco dropped the wash cloth. "I'm not Harry, remember? I'm Draco. Piper switched our bodies."
Cho jerked. "What? You're Draco? But how is that possible? I thought you were d—"
Draco's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "You thought I was what?"
She hastily shook the confusion out of her head. "Oh, nothing really. Don't mind me. How are you doing then, Draco? Missing your morning sickness?" She laughed nervously.
Draco snorted. "No, not really. But what do you care?"
"You're right—I don't. To be honest, I was hoping you'd be dead by now."
Draco jerked. No … Could Cho be the one who had poisoned him a month ago? Was she the one who was trying to kill him? Before he had the chance to ask her straight out, Harry came into the room. When he noticed Cho, he lit up. "Cho! What a pleasant surprise!"
Draco did not believe his ears. What?! Harry was being friendly with that wench?
"Hi Harry! You know, you actually make that body look good …"
"Why, thank you! Would you like some tea?"
"I'd love some, thank you."
Draco stared after them gapingly as they walked out to the kitchen, talking pleasantly with each other. Just a moment later, they came back out, Cho holding two cups. "Brought one for you as well, Draco," she said with a friendly smile.
"I don't want to drink that, you're probably just trying to poison me again," he said, letting her know that he had put two and two together.
"Draco!" Harry exclaimed. "Drink that or I won't make you dinner tonight."
Pouting, Draco took his cup of tea and sipped it carefully. "All right, but it's your fault if I fall down dead."
Nothing weird happened after he had drunk his tea.
So maybe he had been wrong. Maybe it had not been Cho, after all?
Not every woman was like Piper when it came down to it …
Two weeks passed without any vomiting or peeing of blood, so Draco felt quite safe in assuming that Cho had wished him no harm. He did not like the fact that Harry was spending more and more time with her, though. One moment he told him he did not like her and the next she was his best friend—what was that all about?! And he always got so angry when Draco tried to tell him that he did not like her … Bugger.
When they finally got a night to themselves without annoying clones or Cho around, someone else just had to come visiting.
Ron came running into the parlour with a huge smile on his reddish face. "Hey, you guys! You can never guess what happened to me last night!" he called.
Draco sighed and began massaging his temples in resignation. "No, what?"
Ron stopped just in front of them and was almost jumping up and down with excitement. "I got a bloke's number when I was at a gay bar last night!" he told them ecstatically.
It was silent for a while.
"Gay bar?" Harry echoed.
"Yeah! I figured that since you guys got me going some time back and you always seem so happy together and all, I ought to give your lifestyle a go!"
"You actually went to a gay bar for Muggles?"
"Yeah, and I had a blast!"
"But Ron, you're forgetting the most important thing here," Harry protested.
"And what's that?"
"You're not gay."
Ron blinked. "And what would you know about it?" he asked in offense.
"Well, I'm making that conclusion based on the fact that you were in love with Hermione for almost five years and still were long after she died. It's nice to see you finally trying to get over her and all, but—no offense, mate—you're not gay."
"Might be bi, though," Draco put in helpfully.
"Yeah!" Ron agreed emphatically. "I might be bi! You heard him! And I don't care what you think, Harry, 'cos I'm going to try this and see if it works out. This bloke Jonathan really likes me and he's awfully nice and funny, so who knows? Might as well give it a shot, don't you think?"
Harry looked very sceptic.
Draco gave him a thumbs up, though. "I say go for it, Ronnie! Make that guy see what an awesome bloke you are!"
"Yeah! I'll go do that right now!"
He went out of the parlour, but came back after only a few seconds.
"Er, Harry, do you think you could show me how a fellytone works?"