Title: Are You In Love Yet? Part 3
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: FIN
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Draco/Neville
Spoilers: AU. Post Hogwarts.
Warnings: Slash, Mpreg (for a bit)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Draco is cursed. Neville teaches him to save himself.
Notes: This story is an entry in Misconceptions: Harry Potter Mpreg Fuh-Q-Fest Wave 2 (http://hpmpregfqf.design-of-decadence.net/)

Challenge #274: Incorporate plot elements of the fairy tale Beauty And The Beast into an Mpreg fic. (Submitted by Turquoisia Xenia)

A few days later, Neville managed to shut the alarm off before the third ‘Neville’ ring. He made his way sleepily down to the dining room, greeting the house elves on the way with a smile. Gillum held his chair out for him and Neville nodded thankfully as the tiny creature pushed a cup of tea towards him.

“Thanks, Gillum,” he breathed in the wonderful smell of his favorite blend. Not that he knew what that was. Gillum had simply plied the Gryffindor at with cup after cup of tea until Neville had found one that made him nearly swoon. Each meal and teatime was now complete with a steaming pot of whatever-it-was.

“Gillum would like to show Master Neville something this morning,” the diminutive elf bobbed his ears. Neville smiled, reminding himself that the elves probably had issue with being petted, regardless of how damn cute they were. He followed Gillum through yet another huge set of hallways, ~Merlin, does this house have no end? ~ until they came to an enormous wall set with windows.

Neville could hear Gillum speaking, but the elf lost Neville’s attention as soon as the herbologist spied the Malfoy gardens. Gillum noted the dazed expression and gave a tiny smile. “Gillum will have Master Neville’s lunch brought to him,” he said softly, knowing Neville didn’t even hear him. “Enjoy yourself, Master Neville.”

Neville was lost. He discovered rare plants. He discovered illegal plants. He discovered hybrids, the likes of which had never seen the light of day. He overloaded more than once, stopping to just stare in awe at the huge amount of foliage surrounding him. Once, he even cried. He would have missed lunch had Gillum not led him to it with strategically placed small pots of Puffapods.

Gillum came again at tea time, but Neville could not be dissuaded from his study of the hybrid ‘tentacula snare’, as he had dubbed the venomous plant, long enough to take even a sip of the drink or a bite of a biscuit. The next time Gillum came, he brought backup.

Draco glared at the back of the annoying house elf that dared interrupt his reading. Bloody annoying little bastard had the audacity to refuse to leave when ordered! He just kept piping “Master Neville, sir. He needs his dinner,” and peering up at Draco with those irritating big eyes of his. And so, here Draco was…following a bloody house elf through his own manor on a search for a ridiculous excuse of a Gryffindor who didn’t have the good sense to fall undeniably in love with Draco Malfoy and break this bloody curse!

Draco ground his teeth together, a decidedly more difficult task now that his teeth included fangs, and shoved the Greenhouse door open. “Longbottom!” he bellowed.

Nothing.

He frowned, looking around the large enclosure. “Did he leave already, Gillum?” he demanded.

Gillum shook his head. “He’s here, sir. Over there,” a long finger pointed to the far corner. “He’s looking at the Mimbltonia, sir.”

Draco rolled his eyes and began pushing through the foliage. “Longbottom!” he barked again. This time, Neville heard and his head came up like a startled deer. He spotted Draco coming his way and he smiled, a brilliant unfettered action that actually caused Draco to falter in his step. The Malfoy quickly resumed his stride, glancing to see if Gillum had noticed his misstep. The bloody thing was smirking. He reminded himself to order the obnoxious thing to iron its hands later.

“Draco!” Neville called out, carefully stepping out of his cave of green. “These gardens are amazing!”

Draco stopped walking as the other man made his way to him. “Bloody fucking smiling Gryffindors,” he murmured under his breath, wondering what the hell it was about Neville’s sheer joy at such a simple thing that made that particularly irritating ache in his chest. “Longbottom. You’ve been in here for the last 12 hours. Planning on coming out soon?” he drawled instead.

Neville flushed sheepishly and nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry. Did you need me for anything? Because these gardens are just amazing. I could spend a week in here and find something new each day!”

“Yes, well,” Draco hmphed, turning on his heel. “Dinner is ready.”

“Yes,” the Gryffindor returned, his voice falling a bit. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go get cleaned up then.”

Draco rolled his eyes again and squeezed his eyes shut in sheer frustration at his next words. “Never mind that. Just wash your hands up. Then you can tell me what you discovered that’s made you so giddy.” ~Wonderful. An entire night of boring herbology babble. I hope the little bastard appreciates how tolerant I am. ~

Neville practically skipped to the dining room, making a side trip to a nearby lavatory to clean his hands.

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“And that’s when you discovered me,” Neville concluded, stuffing the last bit of food on his plate into his mouth. Draco was amazed at how someone so hopeless in potions had such amazing timing.

“Well,” Draco drawled, dragging a nail across the tablecloth, watching it ruck up in his wake. “So, the big finale of all that is simply ‘you liked the gardens’, correct?” He could have kicked himself when he watched Neville’s face fall.

“Er, yes that’s it,” Neville agreed in a voice just above a whisper. Silence lay over the table like a fog. Eventually, Neville cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Draco.”

Draco frowned. “For what?”

Neville shrugged, looking slightly confused. “I really don’t know. I guess for wasting time in your gardens. For making you come after me. For boring you with herbology all dinner long.” He dropped his gaze to the table. “Mostly, I suppose for just being me. I know how much you dislike me and I spent most of dinner practically shoving the reasons why in your face, didn’t I?”

Draco shoved back the plate he’d been toying with. “Longbottom,” he began and then he faltered when Neville’s sad eyes met his. “Just…” he growled. “Never mind. Feel free to play in the gardens as often as you like. I never go in there and the house elves have been known to get lost or eaten. Perhaps you can do something about that.”

Neville’s eyes began to fill up again with that unnamable emotion that sent Draco’s heart to fluttering. “You know,” Draco added casually. “Should you ever get your business up and running, I’d be happy to offer you some starts of whatever you might need.” He was disturbingly pleased to see the delight and excitement begin to radiate from the Gryffindor’s face.

“Really?” Neville nearly bounced. “That would be the most amazing thing. Thank you so much Draco.”

Draco waved him off. Really, what did offering a few weeds cost him if he could endear the little prat to him just a bit more. The tiny voice in his head that sounded distressingly like Gillum rather rudely informed him that it would cost him nothing…if that were actually what he was doing it for.

Neville seemed more inclined to just sit and talk after finishing his dinner this time. They chatted about the panes of glass in the Greenhouse, about which plants ate the house elves and then Neville mentioned again how sorry he was to have disturbed Draco today by not attending dinner at a timely hour. “What did I take you away from?” he asked.

“I spend my every moment lately looking for a cure,” Draco answered wryly. “One that is quicker than waiting for you to appreciate how much better your life would be if you’d just fall in love with me already.”

Draco didn’t understand why, but Neville’s face fell again. “Is that why you’re offering me your garden?” he asked quietly. “Because you think I’ll fall for you faster if you give me access to something I’m passionate about?”

Draco flushed, not because that was exactly what he’d just been telling himself, but rather because that wasn’t quite the truth anymore. Neville, however, couldn’t know that. Instead, the Gryffindor slowly pushed away from the table and stood.

“Generous as it was, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer to make use of the gardens again.”

Draco gaped in confused frustration. “What? Why?”

Neville turned his back and headed for the door. “When you can figure that out for yourself, Draco, you can offer the gardens again.” And the door swung shut behind him.

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Neville fought the urge to hide in his room all day. He forced himself out of bed and into the shower. He forced himself to walk through the portrait room, as he now referred to it, and say good morning to the Ladies Narcissa and Amelia and to Casper. From their concerned expressions, he realized he wasn’t putting on much of a show. Sighing, he resolved to try harder and went in search of a house elf to practice on.

After breakfast, he asked Gillum to take him to the library. A searching look and slow nod later and the elf trotted down another maze of hallways to a set of mahogany double doors. Surprisingly, for their size, they swung open easily and Neville stepped into the largest library he’d seen next to Hogwarts. He browsed for a bit, ignoring the Darker books and anything to do with Potions. Finally, he chanced upon the Herbology section and happily picked a book at random, plopping down on a leather couch to peruse it.

Sometime later, he looked up at a sound and caught his breath as Draco Malfoy stormed into the library. Neville was struck by how utterly human he still appeared. Fur and claws and angry snarls aside, Draco still moved like he always had…a flowing stride that had always reminded Neville of walking on water. And though the fur covered Draco’s whole body, it was still the glorious white blonde of his head hair…and still looked as sleek and smooth to the touch. And of course, the eyes didn’t change at all. Neville noticed that he sometimes forgot he was talking to a ‘monster’ when he just looked into Draco’s eyes.

Those eyes that were now turned on him in surprise. Neville nodded politely and smiled. “Draco. Good morning.”

Draco frowned but in the end, his manners pulled through. “Good morning, Longbottom,” he said stiffly. “What are you doing in here?”

Neville held his book up. “Just browsing a bit. I found some interesting herbology books I’d never seen before.”

He nearly giggled at the huge eye roll Draco performed. “Bloody hell, Longbottom. Don’t you ever do anything that hasn’t to do with plants?”

Neville shook his head, no longer bothering to hide his grin. “Nope. It’s the only thing I’m good at. Everything else just blows up in my face.” Draco shared a smile with him at that remembered truth and moved to one of the Dark sections, pulling a book from the shelf without even looking at the title. He flinched a bit as he stretched and took a tiny moment to hunch over his stomach.

Neville’s eyes didn’t miss it. “How goes the pregnancy?” he asked pointedly.

Draco flinched. “It’s horrible. I ache everywhere. I have to use the lav 15 times a day. I can’t stretch too far or bend too much. I’m nauseous and headachy and tired all the time.” He gave a start and shot a look towards Neville as if he just realized that he was spilling his guts about something so personal to another person. “But I suppose all that’s normal, right?” he finished lamely.

Neville placed the book on a table and stood. “You don’t know?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Draco frowned…and began fidgeting. “Well, I’ve been spending most of my time trying to break this curse,” he admitted. “I haven’t really paid much attention to the whole pregnancy part of it.”

Neville smiled and crossed his arms. “I thought as much. You realize, Draco, that your curse is permanent and will be there for quite some time. You can afford to let it ride for a few days. Your pregnancy, however, is not permanent. You will have to give birth someday soon and it may behoove you to know what to expect when that happens.”

Draco glared. “My curse is not permanent. I will find a way out of this. And I do not intend to waste a single moment of time researching anything about this dammed brat!”

Neville just nodded and continued to stare fixedly at the Slytherin. Draco began to fidget again. The silence grew heavier and heavier and Draco grew more and more distressed. Eventually, Neville took pity on him. “All right. You keep looking for a cure to your curse,” he said. “I’ll spend today looking up anything you have on male pregnancies and fill you in at dinner,” he offered. Draco looked a bit startled at the offer of help, but agreed with a brief nod and clutched his book to his chest, backing out of the room. Neville grinned and went searching.

That night at dinner, Draco was almost hesitant to come. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something for him. Even if it was only a bit of reading, Neville had not only done it…he had suggested it in the first place to make Draco’s life easier. He immediately began looking for Neville’s motives and then wanted to kick himself when, after a wasted hour of his own research time spent thinking about the idiot boy, he realized that Neville had no agenda. He was simply a nice person doing a good deed.

Neville began regaling Draco with tales of past male pregnancies almost immediately and with great interested glee. He stopped just as quickly as he realized that, even under the fur, Malfoy was turning green. After the last bit of food had been consumed, he began again, grin firmly in place.

“Actually, everything you’ve told me seems perfectly normal for your stage of pregnancy,” he assured the Slytherin. “However, due to the delicate nature of your artificial womb, I’d suggest seeing a mediwitch as soon as possible.”

Draco actually snarled. Neville looked frightened for a moment and then his brows furrowed as Draco made his point very succinctly. “I will not leave this house.”

“Well, then have one come here,” Neville returned impatiently. “You’ve certainly the money for that.”

Draco crossed his arms over his stomach. Neville was pretty sure he didn’t even know he was doing it. “I refuse to let anyone else see me like this. I have no desire to wind up in the Daily Prophet. Malfoy Cursed. Bears Bastard Child. I think not,” he groused.

Neville sighed. “Surely you can find one who’s confidential. And don’t families like yours have personal mediwitches anyway?” he realized. “Where is yours?”

Draco looked embarrassed. “I fired her. And the rest of the staff because they spied for the Dark Lord. There’s no one in the employ of this household save the house elves.”

“Well, I know some people at St. Mungo’s from visiting my parents there,” he offered. “Perhaps I can find someone who’d be discreet.”

Draco shoved away from the table. “No. Do you love me yet, Longbottom?”

Neville gaped in confusion. “N-no?” he asked.

Draco didn’t seem to notice. “Fine. Goodnight.” Tonight, Neville was the one staring at the door, as it swung shut.

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