His Daughter's Father Part 2

Title: His Daughter’s Father Part 2

Site: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/

Author: Constant Vigilance

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is God. I own nothing.

Distribution: Sure. Just lemme know where my baby’s going.

Spoilers: Up to GoF. Book 5 never happened. *Growls at Rowling*

Summary: Harry is raped under a conception potion. Draco makes the consequences bearable.

Four days later, Harry’s eyes opened. The first thing he saw was white, sterile white, and he knew. Someone had found him; someone had saved him. ~Bloody hell, people! Can’t you tell when a person is begging to die? ~ He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, letting silent tears escape to moisten the cotton cloth.

“Harry?” He tensed, hearing Madam Pomfrey’s voice rise in query. Her sensible shoes padded on the floor and he could tell when she was hovering over him. He used the pillowcase to wipe away the tears staining his face and turned to look at her. She smiled hugely and fluttered her hands. “I’m so glad to see you awake, Harry. You gave us all quite the scare.”

He vaguely realized that she continued rambling platitudes whilst gathering her wand and other assorted equipment onto a small tray. However, he didn’t care. He didn’t care who had missed him, who had come to visit, how difficult it had been to heal his injuries. He simply didn’t care. “How did you find me?” he cut her off hollowly.

Poppy paused, eyeing him carefully, then continued. “Hermione, Ron and Draco Malfoy found you. I don’t quite know how, but apparently it was a group effort. They brought you in four days ago.”

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, the conversation over with as far as he was concerned. He knew how they’d found him, now. Damn the day he’d shown that blasted map to his best friend. He lay passively, allowing Poppy to cast various spells over his body and force potions down his throat. He cooperated soundlessly and when she’d finished with her inspection, he rolled back onto his side and tugged the covers up over his head.

Allowing the tears to come once more, he drifted off to sleep.

_____________________________________________________________________________

The next time he awoke, it was to muted conversation. His ear picked out Hermione’s smooth cultured tones and the Ron’s practically Cockney responses. ~Traitors. ~ He sighed, knowing he would have to face them one day, and rolled over.

“Harry?” Mione called softly. “Are you awake?” He nodded, eyes still closed. “Madam Pomfrey says you’re doing well. She says you may be able to come back to the dorms in a couple of days.” He nodded and opened his eyes.

“How are you feeling, mate?” He turned his eyes to Ron and shrugged. He watched them exchange worried looks and found that he hadn’t the energy to care if he was worrying them.

“Do you remember anything, Harry?” Hermione took back over. He nodded. “How much?” A single penetrating look sent to her soft brown eyes and she flushed. “You remember everything,” she stated. He nodded.

“Don’t you worry about that bastard Zabini,” Ron snarled. “Dumbledore expelled him but not before Malfoy had a chance to curse him good.”

“Ron,” Hermione elbowed him, “perhaps we could stick to the plan and ease into things like that?” Her sarcasm went unheeded, as Ron had fallen into the cadence of the retelling.

“Malfoy cast some kind of muscle cramping spell,” he continued. “When Snape found him, he was laying flat arsed on his back, afraid to move and screaming like a girl!” The gleeful tone in his voice made Harry’s lips twitch, but he caught the escaping smile in time.

“It’s strange,” Hermione added, “but Draco seems honestly worried about you, Harry.” Harry turned empty eyes to her. “He’s been here every evening, checking on you. Of course that could be because this is one of the few safe places left in the school for him,” her voice went distant as she thought about Draco’s predicament.

“I’m even starting to feel sorry for the poor guy,” Ron piped up. “He’s been narrowly avoiding bodily harm for a week.” Harry rolled his eyes Ron’s direction. “He won’t tell Snape. Guess he thinks that having a teacher protecting him makes him look weak. But we’ve been talking to him everyday. Dumbledore moved him out of the Slytherin dorms and into his own room on the second floor.”

Hermione came back from her mental trip. “I’m quite concerned as well,” she frowned. “It feels to me like he’s keeping us updated on his whereabouts in case he just doesn’t show up one day. I don’t like it.”

“Hermione? Ron? You didn’t wake him, did you?” Poppy’s disapproving voice rang through the hospital ward.

“No, ma’am,” Hermione shook her head. “He woke up just now.”

Poppy cast several spells over Harry’s prone body and brightened. “Well, Harry, you are healing quite nicely.” She cast one last spell and her face darkened. “Now, I’m afraid you must make a rather painful decision, my boy.” She eyed the other two students and sighed. There was no way that these two wouldn’t find out exactly what was wrong with their best friend, come hell or high water.

“Harry, when you were raped, Blaise used a contraceptive potion,” she began softly. Instantly, Hermione’s eyes began to tear and Ron’s fists clenched angrily. “The unfortunate part of this is that you were so badly injured when you were brought in that your body couldn’t take even one more shock. Because of this, I was unable to counter the potion immediately.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror. “The potion took affect, Harry. And Blaise provided the final…ingredient. Harry, dear boy, you’re pregnant.” A strangled gasp from Hermione, an enraged roar from Ron. From Harry? Nothing. “I need to know, Harry. I need to know what you want me to do about this. Do you want to have the fetus aborted? Or do you wish to carry the baby full term?”

Harry moved dead eyes from one person to the next. He then rolled back over and tugged the covers up again. Long moments later, he heard whispers. He chose not to focus on them and let them lull him back into sleep…into the only place that couldn’t hurt him again.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Harry’s timing seemed to be getting better. The next time he awoke, he heard nothing. He waited for long moments, straining his ears to see if he were truly alone. Nothing. He took a chance and pulled the covers down. It was dark in the hospital ward. Only the moon shining through the windows gave any light at all. He sighed in relief and rolled to his back.

“Sorry to disappoint,” came the slow drawl. Harry’s first reaction was to throw his covers back over his head. Then his thought process caught up with his muscle reaction and he stared through the darkness at a blonde head and white teeth glinting in the moonlight. “You aren’t alone.”

Harry pushed himself up. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice harsh after a long period of disuse.

Draco was surprised to hear Harry speak. He’d been briefed by Hermione and Ron on the brunette’s refusal to answer any questions and had been fully prepared to have Harry ignore him entirely. But one should never look a gift horse in the mouth, eh? “I was worried about you. I’m sorry Blaise hurt you.”

Harry smirked, a disturbing similarity to the one Draco practiced in his mirror each day. “Yeah, everyone is sorry. Everyone knows that if they’d watched me just a bit harder, kept a better eye on Voldemort’s recruits, that this wouldn’t have happened,” the bitterness in Harry’s voice was like acid. “Then their Golden Boy wouldn’t be carrying the spawn of Voldemort. He wouldn’t be tainted. He wouldn’t be ruined.”

Harry paused to suck in a breath, horrified as it hitched and came out as a sob.

Draco stared, astounded. Then he felt anger creeping up and knew it was just a matter of time before his over productive mouth would get the better of his brain. Sure enough, “Bollocks,” he snapped. “I don’t know what the others think, but I know for a fact that there wasn’t anything I could have done to prevent it. I’m sorry you were hurt; violated by one of my housemates. I’m sorry you are in the predicament that you are in now. But this wasn’t my fault, Potter. And it wasn’t yours. And I’m not going to let you force either one of us into taking the blame.”

Harry’s eyes had widened and he sat, stiffened and afraid to interrupt. “That baby is not the spawn of Voldemort,” Draco continued, “ but rather the combined essence of two teenaged boys held in a magically constructed womb until it’s miraculous birth into the world in nine months.”

Harry shook himself out of his stupor and snorted in disgust. He looked away from the piercing gray eyes. Draco reached out and dragged his face back. It was the first touch Harry had received since he’d woken up that hadn’t been full of concern and tenderness. Strangely, Harry appreciated the ferocity of it.

“The rape was not the baby’s fault,” Draco said harshly. “The identity of its parents is not the baby’s fault. The horrible timing of this pregnancy is not the baby’s fault. I understand that Voldemort had this done to you to weaken you. I understand that you hold no affection for its father. I understand that at this time of your life, this is perhaps the very last thing you want.”

Draco took a deep breath. “But, it’s here. It happened. There’s no turning back. You can only deal with the hand that’s been dealt to you. You are pregnant; through no fault of your own and through no fault of this baby’s. But so far, you two are the only ones suffering.”

He grasped Harry’s hand. “Do you think Voldemort is sitting in some moldy graveyard going ‘Drat, poor Potter. All knocked up and no way to fight me’?” He was encouraged by the desperate attempt to hide a grin. “Do you think Blaise is living in the lap of luxury, a favorite of Voldemort’s going, ‘Golly, I sure wish I could see my child when it’s born’.” Another smothered snort. “No. Because they’re not. They’re pleased because everything is going their way.”

He waved a hand over Harry, encompassing his form on the bed. “You are practically comatose, lying there being miserable, sucking the life from the very air you breathe. You’re not fit to wipe your own nose, much less defeat the Dark Lord. And what happens if you do decide abort this baby? Are you trying to tell me that for the rest of your life you won’t regret getting rid of your child?”

His voice softened. “Because it is, Harry. It is your child. It may be a part of Blaise, but it’s part of you as well. And no child of yours deserves to die. No child of yours deserves to be thought of as evil spawn. No child of yours should be hated because it exists.”

Harry just gazed painfully into Draco’s eyes. The blonde could see tear tracks racing down Harry’s face, but didn’t think the other boy even noticed. “So, what do I do, Draco?” he begged.

Draco shrugged sadly. “I can’t tell you that, Harry. It’s not my choice. It’s not my body, my child, my life. You have to decide what’s best for you. But please, let it be what is best for you, not what’s best for the wizarding world or what’s best for Dumbledore. Don’t let it be what’s best for your friends or even your godfather. Do whatever you need to do for you, Harry. And know that the people who care about you will care about you no matter what.”

He sighed and lightly brushed a finger down Harry’s cheek. “I didn’t tell you any of this to influence you, Harry. You’re obviously trapped in an endless cycle and can’t make it past the horror of the situation. I just brought up what you’ll be thinking about years down the road; what you’ll be telling yourself when you can think clearly. I want you to go into this without blinders on.”

Harry just stared, tears collecting in the hollow of his throat. Draco sighed one last time and patted his hand. “I’ll let you sleep. Just think about what I said, okay?” He stood and crossed the room silently. Taking one last look at the Boy Who Seemed to Be Tugging on His Heartstrings, he shook his head and eased out of the door.

Harry fixed his eyes on the stars outside of the window and resigned himself to a sleepless night.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Poppy moved into the infirmary commons humming to herself. She automatically glanced at the bed occupied by her patient of nearly a week. It was empty. A moment of panic set in. Then she heard the shower. Narrowing her eyes, she padded to the door left ajar and peeked in. The water shut off and the curtain flew back to reveal Harry, in all of his glory, blinking the water out of his eyes.

A flush building on her cheeks, Poppy backed away from the door and began gathering the items needed to test Harry’s condition on what was obviously going to be his last day in the infirmary. Moments later, a dressed Boy Who Lived pushed through the door and smiled at her. “Good morning, Madam Pomfrey,” he warbled.

Poppy smiled back hesitantly. “How are you feeling this morning, Harry?”

“Never better!” He placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head. “Come to think of it, I’m kind of hungry. I should get down to breakfast before Ron and Seamus eat everything,” he grinned. “It’s not healthy to skip a meal when you’re expecting.”

Poppy couldn’t keep her smile from widening. “Does this mean you’re keeping the baby?”

Harry’s smile became dreamy and his gaze faraway. He covered his belly with his hands and sighed happily. “Yes. I’m keeping my baby.”

Feeling the need to be the devil’s advocate, Poppy frowned a bit. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Harry? A baby conceived in rape has a difficult life ahead of it.”

Harry continued rubbing his tummy. “When my baby asks about its father, I’m not planning on lying. But I am planning on telling it how much I love it. How happy I am to have it in my life and how sad that its father will never be able to share in that joy. It’s not a baby conceived in rape. It’s a baby conceived in me.”

Poppy broke her standard policy of no personal touching and embraced the brunette in a motherly hug. “I’m proud of you, Harry Potter,” she whispered. “Now, go and share this news with your friends. They’re bound to be waking up about now.”

Harry hugged her back and raced up the stairs to the dorms. He called out the password and slipped by the Fat Lady with a smile. His entrance to the Gryffindor common room was marked by silence. Early morning chatter ceased abruptly. Those who had friends dozing on the various couches poked their friends awake. Even snogging couples paused to stare.

No one, however, spoke to him. Even Ron and Hermione, though they moved closer to their best friend, looked at him as though he were a skittish horse. Harry felt his smile disappearing under the scrutiny.

“Oh, bloody hell, people,” came a disgusted voice followed by Ginny Weasley bearing a disgusted look directed at her fellow Gryffindors. “He’s just back from the infirmary and you are all acting like he’s just escaped St. Mungo’s.” She stepped up to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Morning, Harry,” she said with a warm smile. “How are you?”

Harry’s smile returned and he squeezed the lovely little spitfire. “I’m wonderful, Ginny,” he stated. “Wonderful, starving and pregnant. How are you?”

Ginny grinned. “Well, other than the pregnant part…I’m pretty much the same.”

“You interested in some breakfast?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Ginny nodded and linked arms with him. As they moved to the tapestry she turned back to the others and rolled her eyes. “You all can come too, you know.” The common room erupted into a flurry of movement and noise as the Gryffindors lined up to support their Golden Boy in his trip to the Great Hall. Harry was grateful for their support when he realized that every single person in the school must know he’d been raped and impregnated.

No one had the decency to look elsewhere or to simply continue eating. Ginny and Hermione glared and most of the Hufflepuffs looked away, shamed, while the Ravenclaws just looked annoyed as they went back to eating. The Slytherins snickered behind their hands until Draco cleared his throat. A few shot looks of hatred at the blonde, but most remembered what he’d done to Blaise and turned their eyes away.

Harry straightened his spine and nodded to Ginny to get them a seat. With as much dignity as he could muster, he approached the Slytherin table…and Draco. The blonde watched him coming and schooled his features into polite curiosity. “Good morning, Potter. I see you’re feeling better.”

Harry blushed and smiled as he came to a halt in front of Draco. “Yes, thank you. Thank you for everything, actually. For helping me…that night and for talking to me as well. You opened my eyes and gave me a lot to think about.”

Draco couldn’t help the smile of satisfaction. “You’ve decided then.”

Harry nodded and raised his voice a bit to be heard all along the table. “I’m going to keep my baby,” he announced.

Draco bit his lip as his grin threatened to spread over his entire face. “Well, good on you Potter.”

Harry nodded and focused on Draco. “I was hoping…” he flushed.

“Hoping what?” Draco prompted into the silence.

“That you…er, that you might be interested in joining us for breakfast at the Gryffindor table?”

Gasps rolled down the Slytherin table. Draco graciously inclined his head. “I’d be honored,” he said clearly and folded his napkin up, placing it on the table with a sense of finality. He followed Harry over to the other House table and waited patiently as Hermione scooted down to make room for him.

“Welcome to Gryffindor,” she whispered as he took his seat.