Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: I start referring to the gender of the baby in this chapter, since by this time you can tell. We're going to have another moment, as well.

For the next two weeks, Harry and Draco spent a lot of time together, mostly working on the copying potions, but sometimes just talking. Harry spoke of everything from Quidditch to life at the Dursleys', and Draco talked about his family life, as well. His parents were both loyal to Voldemort, though Narcissa had never taken the Dark Mark. Voldemort hadn't required it of her when he heard her reason, namely that it just wouldn't go with anything in her wardrobe. He was assured of her loyalty because of that very shallowness. It had been the only thing she had against it, promising instead to take a piece of jewelry with the symbol on it, a pendant that was spelled to never come off her neck. Of course, that made Narcissa trouble. She would not be pleased with her grandchild being Harry Potter's child.

Harry made some long-range plans, mostly involving his life post-war. He'd decided to become a teacher, rather than an Auror. He'd actually enjoyed teaching his fellow students how to defend themselves during his tenure as the leader of Dumbledore's Army, and he thought he'd like to make that his focus. It helped that it would piss Snape off something fierce if he got the DADA position. He knew that, should he survive, he wanted to make sure that the curse of that particular teaching position was lifted. He imagined he would get a house in Hogsmede, perhaps ask Dobby the house elf if he wouldn't enjoy helping him around the house for a modest fee. He knew that he would have to work hard to get the teaching position, but that didn't bother him.

It was those more immediate problems, however, that frightened him the most. Spies for the dark side were lurking around every corner. There was always the very real possibility that Voldemort would again try to possess Harry through the scar on his forehead, and Occulmency would disrupt the natural energy flows of the baby. It was the nature of the spell. It kept people out of your head by disrupting those energy flows in them, and since Harry was physically connected to the baby, it would do the same thing to it, and in a developing fetus that could cause deformities and even death. That was unacceptable, both to Harry and to Draco.

Dumbledore was worried as well, and he had asked the staff to help with Harry's defense. Every teacher was working on finding alternatives for those spells that would harm the baby. Many had their classes helping them, though the students didn't really know what they were working on. While Harry and Draco worked on the copying spells, Hermione, Ron and Ginny worked on ways to block Harry's link to Voldemort. It was a fact of life, however, that every offensive spell any of them knew could not be used while pregnant. He could still conjure his Patronus, which was good since being exposed to a dementor could cause the death of the baby.

Harry also had a regular weekly appointment with Madame Pomfrey so that she could keep track of their health. She was able to perform a spell that produced an image of the baby, much like an ultrasound that a Muggle doctor would have given, but much more detailed. It looked more like a wizard painting, but it hung in mid-air, a life-sized hologram that moved when the baby moved in real-time. It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen, and as time passed, it only grew more beautiful.

Draco continued to support Harry, ruthlessly pushing his own emotions aside, though it was becoming increasingly more difficult. Knowing that the person he loved the most in this world was going to have his child, and yet not being able to be with him, was the hardest thing he'd ever done. And yet, he was also getting to spend time with Harry, something he'd never been able to do before. He was even starting to mend things with Hermione, Ron and Ginny. Harry's best friends had always been part of the driving force behind Draco's enmity with him, both because of their status and because of the way they tended to egg him on because he was a Slytherin. But they were all growing up, and all of them knew that Harry had no intention of denying Draco access to their child, so they were trying their very best to keep it nice.

The entire Slytherin House was on his case more and more frequently because he had stopped fighting with the Gryphindors. The only one who didn't was Pansy Parkinson, but she was an even greater danger because of her inquisitive nature. While she wasn't quite on Hermione's level, she had the same tendency to put odd bits of information with alarming accuracy, and she and her parents were completely loyal to Voldemort. If she figured out what was going on, Voldemort would know it within twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, Draco'd had to get a few new locking charms for all of his belongings and permission to put wards up around his bed. No one other than himself, Snape and Dumbledore could get into his trunk and anyone trying to get at him while he was asleep would get a rather nasty surprise. Anywhere else, he had to keep his guard up constantly, but that was normal for him anyway.

It was fourteen weeks after the accident when it came to a head for him. During the last Quidditch practice before the school closed for Christmas holidays, Blaise Zabini came straight at him, knocked him off of his broom and into a pillar. He was left alone on the pitch until he woke and dragged himself toward the infirmary. He knew that his arm was broken, but he didn't know what other injuries he had, and it wouldn't be smart not to have himself checked out. In fact, he didn't actually make it, collapsing in the hall outside.

Hermione found him there on her way back from running an errand for Madame Pomfrey. She levitated him and brought him into the infirmary, quickly calling for Pomfrey. Draco tried to stay awake, but the moment he was safely placed on a cot, his injuries caught up with him and he passed out.

Harry rushed into the infirmary, having been told by Ron that Draco was in there, and he was badly beaten up. He considered Draco to be a friend now, and he hated it when his friends were hurt. More and more, it seemed that those he cared for were hurt because of him. He knew that becoming his friend had caused Draco's own house to turn against him, but he hadn't realized that they would be willing to kill him over it, and that was what it looked like had happened. They'd beaten him and left him for dead on the Quidditch pitch. And Harry found that he was not merely worried about Draco. He was also angry, angry enough to do damage, but he knew that it wasn't the right time. He couldn't just go after the people who had hurt his friend, as that would put Draco in even hotter water.

He found Draco lying there on the cot in the medical wing, Madame Pomfrey checking him over. "How is he?"

The mediwitch turned around, not having seen Harry come in. "He's got a concussion, three broken ribs, two cracked ones and a punctured lung, as well as a broken arm. He'll have to be in here for about a week for the head and the lung, and he'll look like one big bruise for a while, but he's going to be all right." She came around the bed and headed for him. "Now, since you're down here, we can go ahead and get your checkup out of the way. Go ahead and have a seat, Harry, and I'll be right back."

While he waited on the nurse to return, Harry found himself watching Draco. Even with the massive bruises on his face, the Slytherin looked beautiful in his sleep, like a fallen angel. There were no worry lines, no calculating expressions, or even wicked humor, just the illusion of a creature who had no problems, who could sleep peacefully and without the nightmares that hounded both their lives.

Harry had decided after his fiasco with Cho Chang in fourth year that his life would be far better off without any romantic relationships in it. Not only would they be a distraction, but if he showed any undue affection to any one person, that person might just find themselves on the wrong end of a Death Eater's wand in an attempt to get at him. Not a risk he was willing to take. But that didn't keep Harry from having all the normal urges of any sixteen-year-old boy. He knew that both girls and boys could affect him that way, and he'd come to terms long ago with that fact. As he looked at Draco, however, a feeling that was so much stronger than any of those boyish fantasies came over him, and he groaned. He'd been denying it for long enough, but seeing Draco so hurt and so innocent looking was shoving the feeling home with deadly accuracy. Shit.

Well, there was nothing for it now, and there was no way he was going to push his friendship with Draco. Now was not the time and he didn't want to loose what he already had with him. There was too much going on right now to risk it. But that didn't stop him from watching his love (yes, he could say that now, if only in his head) sleeping and wishing with all his heart that the world wasn't so against them.

Pomfrey came back with a bottle of pills. "This is just calcium for the baby's bones. I want you to take one every day. If the baby can't get his calcium from your diet, he'll take it from your bones, and you'll have problems later in life. Osteoporosis is not something you want to deal with." He nodded and took the bottle from her. "Now, let's take a look at your little one, shall we?" Harry smiled and took his shirt off.

Draco woke up to the unusual sensation of light streaming through the lids of his eyes. In the Slytherin dungeons, there were no windows, so the only light he could wake to was that from a candle or lamp. That didn't bode well for him in his current state of disfavor with the rest of the house, so he was fully alert before he ever opened his eyes, ready to meet a threat.

But what he saw was certainly no threat! Harry sat on the next cot beside him, shirtless and barefoot. But his attention was on a pink glowing ball of energy that hovered a mere thirty centimeters in front of the Gryphindor. It was the size of a bludger, and inside was the image of what could only be the unborn child Harry was carrying. The baby's eyes were closed, and he sucked on his thumb, a completely innocent gesture that caused Draco to smile. He was beautiful! And he was only going to keep getting more beautiful as time went by.

Harry noticed that Draco's eyes were open and fixated on their child. He enjoyed the look of shocked amazement that had blossomed on the Slytherin's face. Gone was the arrogant spoiled teenager, replaced by a man falling in love with his son for the first time. It was so perfect a moment that Harry didn't want to spoil it, but he stood and moved to sit on the edge of Draco's cot. Which didn't spoil the moment after all, because Draco couldn't take his eyes off the baby. A bare whisper came from the injured blonde. "He's beautiful, Harry!"

Harry grinned. "Draco Malfoy, meet James Abraham Malfoy. I wanted him to have your name and my father's name, and Abraham seemed like a good neutral middle name."

Draco smiled. "It sounds good." He looked up at Harry and saw the gentle love in his eyes. Then he realized it wasn't directed only at the child. Uh oh. Is he starting to have feelings for me?

Harry saw the question in Draco's eyes. Oops. Busted.

"Harry?" Then he looked, really looked at Draco's face and was mildly surprised to find that his feelings were returned.

He sighed. "Does it matter if we can't either one afford to do anything about it?"

So he figured it out. Damn. Draco's sigh echoed Harry's. No use denying it. "I know." He looked over at the baby, still entranced by the fact that he'd had a part in creating something of such beauty and innocence. "But right here and right now, I have to feel hope that one day we aren't going to be here. We aren't always going to be in such danger. There will be a life to live after this damned war is over and done with. So let's make a deal, you and I. Should we both survive this insanity and still feel the way we do, then we'll take the time to explore it."

Harry grinned again. "That would be wonderful."

Both men turned their attention to the glowing image of little James. Smiles crossed both their faces as he turned over in the fluid he swam in. And if the hand of one found it's way into the hand of the other, neither said anything about it.

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