Title: A Broom Cupboard Baby
Pairing: Neville Longbottom / Draco Malfoy
Rating: PG-13
Category: Angst
Warnings: Underage (7th year), MPreg
Summary: Neville is pregnant. Snape protects his own.
Disclaimer: Not mine! No profit is being made. All things relating to Harry Potter belong to J.K.R.
Notes: This fic was written in response to the "Who's Your Daddy?" challenge of the 'Boys And Their Tummies' livejournal community at http://www.livejournal.com/community/hp_mpreg/
Thanks and Credits: Big thanks to my beta Yola. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Neville frowned at his reflection, turning sideways first one way, then the other.

He sighed deeply, letting the hem of his bunched up robes fall from his hands.

Even with his robes covering him again, it was obvious he had gained weight.

Hermione would have a fit. As usual, she would think he was sneaking food. She would probably accuse him not only of sabotaging her best efforts to help him, but also of breaking school rules to sneak into the kitchens.

But he hadn't. For once, he had been sticking to his diet. Just because he had got off to a shaky start didn't mean he wasn't serious about losing weight. He was the one who'd gone to Hermione for help in the first place, after all.

Hermione, of course, would trust evidence before she trusted his word for it. And the evidence said Neville was off his diet again.

He didn't even consider trying to hide it. Aside from the fact that anyone who looked at him could hardly miss it, Hermione made him get on the big scales in the Prefects bathroom every three weeks to see what progress he was making.

He sighed again, turning away from the mirror.

He might as well go see what kind of damage he was looking at. He still had four days before Hermione would weigh him again. Maybe he could lose a bit of weight before then, if he tried really hard.

The Prefects bathroom was just down the hall from the portrait leading to the common room, so Neville made it to the door without being seen by anyone. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were probably with Professor Lupin, and the rest were probably outside, enjoying the first snow of the year.

"Walnut bread?"

The door stayed locked.

"Pumpernickel?"

The lock clicked, and Neville sighed with relief. Sometimes the password changed, but because all of the prefects that year were members of the DA, they often made the passwords intentionally easy to guess so others could use the bathroom if they wanted to. Even Head Girl Hermione looked the other way.

Neville shut the door behind him.

The bathroom wasn't very large, but it contained a few items of interest. There was the bath, of course, but also a full-length mirror, a massage table, and the scales.

There was no point wasting time. Neville shed his robes and stepped onto the scales in just his y-fronts.

He craned his neck to try to read the numbers on the little spinner, but it was inconveniently located between his toes.

It had been a while since Neville couldn't see his toes. Even with the numerous setbacks in his diet.

He was still trying to maneuver his head around his belly when the mirror spoke up in a sleepy voice.

"Right on track, dear."

Neville frowned at it. "What do you mean on track? I'm humongous!"

"Quite normal for a pregnant boy."

Neville stumbled off the scales.

Then he laughed. "Ha! Funny! Pregnant!"

The mirror coughed irritably.

Neville's laughter died in his throat. "I'm not pregnant."

"Of course you are, dear. It's quite obvious."

Neville stared at the mirror, where his own, slightly pale, reflection was staring back at him with wild eyes. "I can't be pregnant."

The mirror gave a derisive sniff and said nothing.

Neville stepped back.

Then another step.

Finally, he grabbed his robes, yanked open the door, and ran out, slamming it behind him.

There were a few snickers from a group of First Years as he struggled to tug on his robes in the hall, but Neville hardly noticed them.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

He couldn't be pregnant.

Stupid mirror. What did it know?

He couldn't be pregnant.

Boys didn't get pregnant.

Did they?

His thoughts turned immediately to the previous year's health class.

Unfortunately, he had spent most of that class slumped in his chair at the back of the room, with his flaming face hidden in his hands in embarrassment, and paying more attention to the Slytherins' giggles than to what Madam Pomfrey was saying.

He still had the textbook though, and after only a few minutes of frantic digging in his trunk, he found it under a moldy loaf of bread left over from when he was hoarding food in response to Hermione's ever-increasing strictness.

He locked the dorm room door, figuring either an unlocking spell or angry pounding would alert him to his friends' return, then climbed onto his bed and drew the curtains.

The chapter on male pregnancy was very short.

Rare and difficult -- that was about the extent of the information. Neville would have added 'disturbing' to that, if he had been the author.

The last two of the three pages were devoted to a list of spells and potions that could get a male pregnant and to a potion that could diagnose a pregnancy if one was suspected. The potion was only slightly different from the one witches would use, the book claimed, and took only a few minutes to prepare.

Neville knew where he would find the ingredients. Maybe he had never paid full attention in Potions, but even so, he had sat through six years worth of Snape's lectures. Something had to stick.

All the ingredients could be found in the student cabinet in the Potions classroom.

Of course, Neville wasn't at all certain that he could brew the potion, but his choices were rather limited.

He didn't want to believe he was pregnant, of course.

He DIDN'T believe it.

But just the same, he wanted to be sure before anyone else found out, or became suspicious, or jumped to the same conclusion and started some stupid rumor about him.

The idea of going to Pomfrey didn't even cross his mind.

Neville ripped the entire chapter out of the book, so he wouldn't have to carry more than those three pages. He hid them in the inner pocket of his robes.

Then he set out for the dungeons.

The castle was strangely empty. Passing by one of the windows, Neville looked out across the grounds.

It looked like everyone was outside. There was some kind of commotion at the Quidditch Pitch. He saw a large number of students clad in green scarves and heavy winter cloaks.

That was good. Maybe no one would notice him when he sneaked into the Potions classroom. He would hate to run into Malfoy and his thugs in the middle of their own territory, and with none of his own friends around to help him.

He didn't even consider running into Snape. That thought was too horrible to entertain.

Fortunately, the Potions classroom was empty. The cabinet was unlocked as always.

Neville paused, looking at the jars, bottles, and tins of ingredients in front of him.

What was he doing?

He could hardly make a simple cold remedy without Hermione guiding his hand.

And besides, there was no way he was pregnant, so he was taking unnecessary risks by being down in the dungeons where he didn't belong. Not to mention what Snape would likely do to him if he found Neville brewing potions unsupervised.

He almost closed the cabinet and left.

Almost.

But he kept recalling what he had just read, and he knew he would never be able to ignore the uneasy feeling that had taken up residence inside him.

Sighing miserably, he took out the paper with the instructions and began to collect the ingredients he would need.

He was the unluckiest boy in Hogwarts. If something like this was going to happen to anyone, it would be him. He had to find out, one way or the other, and he wasn't going to go to the nurse or wait until Hermione got suspicious.

Of course the potion would show a negative result... if he managed to make the potion correctly, that is. Then he could go back to Gryffindor Tower, laugh at himself a little, and spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how to lose weight in only four days, before Hermione found out about it and got on his case.

Neville selected a small cauldron from the rack, filled it with water, and put it on the burner. Within a few minutes, it was boiling.

"Chopped Shrivelfig," Neville read aloud. He selected a medium sized Shrivelfig and started to cut into it.

Then he recalled Snape yelling at him over another potion. Something about Shrivelfig peel not having any use in potions.

He peeled it. Then chopped it into small pieces, trying to make each about the size of a fingernail, and not to squeeze all the juice out.

"Lets see." Neville wiped his hands on a cloth before picking up the next ingredient. "Bitter root, shredded..."

One by one, the ingredients were dropped into the cauldron. Neville stirred it every few minutes, watching with trepidation as it turned the correct murky blue color.

"Strain and allow to cool."

Those were the last instructions. Neville placed a strainer over the neck of a jar, and carefully measured out two ladles of potion.

He didn't dare try a cooling spell. Why chance messing up the potion when it looked like it might actually be a success? He would put the jar by the far wall, which was always ice cold and clammy, as he knew from the numerous occasions when he had been banished to that corner for causing yet another accident.

He picked up the jar carefully with both hands, and slid off the bench.

Turning around, intending to carry the potion across the room, he almost dropped the jar.

"Arrrrgh!"

A muscle twitched in Snape's jaw, but otherwise his expression remained stony. "Longbottom."

Neville managed to draw in a breath past his pounding heart. "P-p-p-professor S-s-snape! I was just... just..."

Snape stared down at him coldly.

Neville gulped. He didn't continue. There wasn't any point in trying to explain, anyway. He hung his head, waiting for judgement, and tried not to let the jar slip from his sweaty and trembling hands.

The jar was plucked out his hands. Neville looked up involuntarily.

Snape raised one eyebrow as he held the jar up to the light, examining the contents. "I'm shocked, Longbottom. I do believe after six years of unfaltering incompetence, you have at last succeeded in brewing a potion."

Neville's mouth fell open.

Snape's cold eyes met his. "That is, of course, if you were intending to perform a pregnancy test. Was that indeed your intention, Longbottom?"

Seeing the sneer luring in the corners of Snape's mouth, Neville desperately wanted to shake his head. He was incompetent in potions, just as Snape said. Snape would probably believe him if he said he'd been trying to make something else.

But he'd left the page of instructions lying on the table, and a moment later Snape had spotted it.

"Ah," Snape said, smiling cruelly. "Well, there is only one thing to do, isn't there?"

Neville fought the urge to step back as Snape reached for his hand.

A wave of Snape's wand, and the potion turned light and clear with a fast chill.

A second wave, and a sharp pin appeared in Snape's fingers.

"Ow!"

Neville bit his lip, watching a fat drop of blood collect on the pad of his index finger. Snape still had a vice-like grip on his wrist, and now he turned his hand over, allowing the blood to drip freely into the open jar.

The drops swirled as they floated down through the viscous fluid, not mixing until they reached the bottom of the jar and shattered into fine mist.

The potion turned blood red.

Snape was still holding the book page in his other hand, and Neville couldn't help but look at it.

No change meant no pregnancy. Red meant...

"Please accept my most sincere good wishes," Snape said, dropping Neville's hand as though it were something slimy and disgusting. "Accompany me to my office."

The same hand that had left a sore ring around his wrist now clamped down on Neville's shoulder, pushing him toward the door.

Neville didn't have the strength to resist, even if he thought it was any use to do so.

Red. The potions had turned red, and that meant...

That meant...

Before he could finish that dreadful thought, Snape shoved him unceremoniously into one of the stiff, high-backed chairs in his office, then shut the door.

Neville watched numbly as Snape settled behind his desk, pushing aside stacks of ungraded essays. He leaned back, looking at Neville with those horrible bottomless eyes that seemed to see right through him and always made him feel like nothing more than a piece of Shrivelfig that Snape intended to peel and dice.

Snape continued to look at him without speaking. Neville could hear the clock ticking away the minutes. He had to grip the edge of the chair to keep from squirming like a worm on a hook.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand the silent stare another moment, Snape decided to speak.

"Since I began teaching here, no fewer than one hundred and eight students have disgraced themselves by conceiving an illegitimate offspring. Before I put you down as number one hundred and nine, may I inquire as to the identity of the other party involved?"

"The... the other party?" Neville repeated in a choked voice.

Snape stare became even more grim. "I'm sorry, I must not have been clear. Lets try again. For whom did you spread your legs, Longbottom?"

Neville swallowed convulsively.

He hadn't even thought about how he had got into this predicament. All his thoughts had been overwhelmed by the all-consuming fact that he was indeed pregnant.

His hands trembled as he dug in his pocket and pulled out the page listing the spells and potions that could have caused him to be impregnated.

"Well?" Snape demanded, glaring at him as Neville fumbled with the crumpled paper.

"It's... uh..." Neville stared at the list, mentally crossing out all spells and potions that required actual copulation. "I don't know."

"Give that here," Snape said, holding out his hand impatiently.

Neville handed it over wordlessly.

It took Snape only a few seconds to finish reading. He looked up, eyebrow raised, apparently waiting for Neville to explain.

"I... uh... don't know how I got this way," Neville confessed, dropping his gaze to the floor in humiliation.

Snape snorted. "I would think even you --"

At that moment there was a sharp rap on the door. Snape turned his glare toward it. "Come in!"

The door opened slightly and Professor Lupin stuck his head inside. He eyes flicked over Neville, but if he was surprised to see Neville there, he didn't show it. "Am I interrupting?"

Snape folded his arms over his chest. "Longbottom and I were just discussing his latest folly. Perhaps you would like to join us."

Neville tried to look as pleading as he could as Lupin looked him over. His favorite professor was the only person he was reasonably sure would protect him from Snape, even in a situation like this.

"Of course," Lupin said, coming all the way into Snape's office. "As acting Head of Gryffindor, I'm surprised I wasn't called, if this is in fact a serious matter concerning a Gryffindor student."

Snape's thin lips curled into a nasty smile. "Oh, believe me, Lupin, this is quite serious. Longbottom here has managed to turn up pregnant."

Lupin twisted to look at Neville, his mouth falling open slightly and his eyes widening.

"Not only that," Snape continued in the same cruel tone, "but it appears he doesn't know how it happened. Quite odd, wouldn't you say? I was in the process of --"

"I think I get the picture, Severus," Lupin said quietly. "Why don't I take over from here?"

"I think not," Snape said, sitting up straighter. "This is a serious transgression and I will personally see to it that it is dealt with properly. There is also the matter of stolen potions ingredients, as well as unauthorized potion making, which make this very much my business."

Lupin shrugged. "Very well."

Snape graced both of them with an especially dark look. "That will be fifty points from Gryffindor for the things I will be forced to replace, and another fifty for using the Potions classroom without permission."

"Very well," Lupin repeated, sighing a little.

The sigh was echoed by Neville.

Gryffindor had managed to carve out a nice lead so far that year. A setback of a hundred points would put them in last place. To be the cause of that...

Lupin's hand touched the back of his, rubbing in a reassuring manner.

Neville tried to smile back, but his face felt numb.

"Unless there are any more points to be taken, perhaps we should discuss the more important matter," Lupin said, removing his hand.

Neville gulped. Now he was facing not one but two professors, and both of them wanted to know how he had become pregnant, when he hadn't even known he was until several minutes earlier. It didn't seem like much of an improvement over being alone with Snape, no matter how much he liked Professor Lupin.

Snape scowled. "As I said, Longbottom is refusing to name the other guilty party."

"Perhaps Neville would like the chance to inform the... er, second party, himself."

"And perhaps this matter is best resolved by the Headmaster," Snape said, leaning back in his chair.

Lupin was silent for a moment. Then he turned to Neville. "Neville? Can you tell us who the other boy is?"

Neville sighed. It had been humiliating enough to say it once, but now he had to say it again. "I told Professor Snape that I didn't know, and that's the truth."

"Perhaps, Lupin," Snape said, smirking, "Longbottom would like us to believe that he has trouble keeping track of all his lovers."

Neville gritted his teeth. "That isn't what I said. I don't know how I got pregnant. Someone must have slipped me a potion or something."

Lupin frowned. "If that were the case, it would be beyond a--" He looked up at Snape, whose eyes had narrowed, and stuttered slightly, "almost any prank Hogwarts has seen. I don't know which of your classmates would be capable of it."

"I do," Snape sneered. "But I won't waste our time with a list. No student at Hogwarts concocted such a potion."

"How do you know that?"

"Because two of the necessary ingredients are not found even in my personal stores. Procuring them would be most difficult, even for a fully trained wizard."

"I see," Lupin said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps a spell, then? I know of two..."

"There are five," Snape said, offering Lupin the page from Neville's book, "according to this."

Lupin took several minutes to read the page, frowning the entire time.

"Well?" Snape prompted impatiently.

"Hermione Granger might manage one or two of these, with practice, but I doubt any other student could. At least not with any degree of success. Are you quite sure he's pregnant? Did I understand correctly that Neville himself brewed the potion that revealed the pregnancy?"

Snape's scowl deepened considerably. "I did check the potion, Lupin, before administering the test. Still, I see your point. Wait here."

Lupin stood aside to let him pass, and Snape left the office.

"Well," he said to Neville when the sound of Snape's footsteps had died away. "What a predicament you've found yourself in, Neville. Can you tell me anything more? Something you didn't feel comfortable telling Professor Snape?"

"No," Neville said glumly. "There's nothing more to tell."

"I'm afraid Professor Snape is not likely to take that for an answer, Neville. I do wish we had the chance to talk in my office..."

"There's nothing to talk about," Neville said, now getting frustrated. "I don't know how it happened!"

"All right, well, I --"

Snape's returning footsteps interrupted him, and Lupin fell into silence.

"Fortunately the potions does not take long to make," Snape said, holding up a glass goblet full of clear blue liquid. "Your hand, Longbottom."

Neville offered his hand reluctantly, wincing as Snape stabbed his finger again and squeezed out several drops of blood.

The potion turned the same dark red as the previous one.

"There you have it, Lupin."

"I assume red is an affirmative result?"

Snape gave him a disgusted look. "I forgot, you were nearly as incompetent in Potions as Longbottom."

Lupin shrugged. "Sorry."

"Now," Snape said, settling behind his desk again. "We have settled the matter of Longbottom's pregnancy. Shall we return to the prior subject?"

"Neville doesn't know how it happened, Severus. Perhaps he's telling the truth."

Snape gave them both a withering look. "I believe we have established the impossibility of that, Lupin. No, Longbottom conceived in the most typical fashion -- a simple fertility charm and underage fornication."

Neville's face flamed. He was sure he resembled an overripe tomato.

"There, you see?" Snape said, gesturing at him. "It's quite obvious."

"Neville?"

Neville shuddered. He could feel a river of sweat running down his back. His mouth went dry, but finally he managed to croak out, "I didn't do it. Honest."

Lupin shook his head, frowning again. "I don't know, Neville. It seems like the only explanation."

"Why would I use a fertility charm?" Neville exclaimed. "I didn't want to get pregnant! I didn't even know it could happen!"

"Perhaps the other boy felt differently," Lupin suggested.

"Listen to him, Lupin!" Snape sneered. "A moment ago he was denying everything, and now it's 'I didn't want to get pregnant'. I don't think we'll get a straight answer out of him if we sit here all night."

"Severus," Lupin said, "I think Neville's under enough pressure."

"Or not under enough. Perhaps a little Veritaserum will loosen his lying tongue."

"That's enough!"

Neville tried to shrink in his chair as the two professors glared at each other across the desk.

"Neville," Lupin said finally, "if there was someone you were intimate with, I understand you want to protect him. Unfortunately, the truth will have to come out sooner or later. I know he is a student, because you stayed at Hogwarts over summer --"

"That's right," Snape interrupted, his eyes narrowing. "He did, didn't he? Well, we will get to the bottom of this now."

Neville and Lupin both watched as Snape rummaged around in a drawer, coming up with a somewhat battered looking piece of parchment.

"It pays to keep such things," Snape commented to Lupin, unfolding the parchment with a flourish. "It's a list of all students who remained here over the holiday. I will omit the names of female students."

Lupin looked at Neville, his expression slightly apologetic, but he did not protest.

Snape cleared his throat and began. "Cauldwell, Owen."

It took Neville a while to realize that Snape's silence indicated he was waiting for a reply. He shook his head, swallowing nervously.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

Another shake of the head.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

"No," Neville said, his voice coming out barely a whisper.

"Smith, Zacharias."

"No."

"Potter, Harry."

"No."

Hopkins, Wayne."

"No."

"Corner, Michael."

"No."

"Malfoy, Draco."

"No," Neville said, shaking his head for added emphasis.

"Finnigan, Seamus. That is the last one," Snape said, lowering the parchment and glaring at Neville.

"It's Seamus, isn't it, Neville?" Lupin prompted.

"No! It's not him either."

"We're wasting our time," Snape bellowed, throwing the parchment down on his desk and slamming his palm against it with a thunderous clap. "This is not some game, you stupid boy!"

"Severus!"

Snape resumed his glaring, and Lupin turned to Neville. "Look, Neville. You must tell us. There is no other way. One of these boys is the one, and unless you would like to see each of them called in here and similarly interrogated, please tell us which one it is."

"I don't know which one!" Neville wailed miserably. "I don't know! What do you want from me? I'm telling you the truth!"

Lupin slumped in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing in frustration.

"Look at me, Longbottom," Snape said, leaning forward.

Neville looked up, just in time to see Snape whip out his wand and point it at him.

"Legilemens!"

"Severus!"

Lupin's outraged cry came too late. Neville was tumbling through a whirlwind of memories, most of which came in broken flashes.

The summer had not been very exciting, despite the fact that a large number of students had remained at Hogwarts. Some were grieving over dead family members or homes, or both, while others lived every day in fear for the lives of loved ones. Despite the end of the war, many Death Eaters were still at large and thirsty for revenge.

The staff had tried to organize activities, with mixed results. Neville skipped through flashes of a lazy afternoon of boating on the lake, a less than enthusiastic clam bake in sweltering summer heat, a nerve-wracking picnic in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid, and a Masquerade that ended inside a ground floor broom cupboard -- OBLIVIATE!

Neville startled as Snape's spell let him go. Only Lupin's steadying hand kept him from tumbling right out of his chair.

The last word from his memory was still echoing in his head.

"Hmm," Snape said, looking at Neville oddly. "It seems Longbottom may have been truthful after all."

"What do you mean, Severus?"

"His memory has been modified. To be more specific, his memory ends when he followed another student into a broom cupboard at the end of the Masquerade party."

"Who was the student?" Lupin asked, leaning forward expectantly.

"He was masked," Snape said, his lips thinning. "But that is irrelevant. Only one student stayed at Hogwarts over the summer who would be capable of Obliviating another's memory."

There was a very painful silence, during which Neville looked from Snape to Lupin, then back again, trying to grasp what it is they were getting at.

It clicked.

"Draco Malfoy," Neville whispered. "Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfo--"

"Neville," Lupin said gently, taking his hand and rubbing it between his own. "It's going to be all right. We'll get this sorted out."

"Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Neville chanted. He looked up at Lupin in sheer desperation. "Draco Malfoy got me pregnant?"

"It seems likely," Snape put it. There was no sign of remorse in his voice.

"Neville is the victim here, Severus!" Lupin admonished, rising and attempting to pull Neville up also. "We're leaving --"

"Sit down," Snape commanded. "I will not have you carry rumors about one of my students until we have established that a crime has in fact been committed."

Neville, remembering Snape's earlier accusations, barely held back from pointing out that Snape had been quite happy to condemn Neville without looking for any evidence whatsoever. He bit his tongue, knowing even through his present agony that his situation would hardly be helped if he dared to voice those thoughts.

"Now," Snape said, more calmly, "I will have Mr Malfoy join us."

Lupin opened his mouth, clearly intending to say something, but after a moment of hesitation closed it again.

Neville slumped defeatedly in his chair.

Snape waved his wand, flicking it in the direction of a piece of parchment tacked to the wall. Neville squinted at it, and could just make out a long list of names. One of them was blinking rapidly, and he could guess which one it was.

Only a minute or so passed, and to Neville it seemed like even less as he listened to footsteps getting louder in the hallway outside.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Malfoy drawled, appearing in the doorway. Then he spotted Lupin and Neville. "Er..."

"Come in, Mr Malfoy," Snape said. "Sit down."

Malfoy made a move toward the second guest chair, the one not occupied by Lupin.

Snape shook his head. "Next to Longbottom, if you please."

Frowning, Malfoy took a seat in the chair next to Neville's, gathering up his robes as though expecting that having his clothing touch Neville's would contaminate him. "What's this about, Professor?"

Neville had to give it to Malfoy. He was cool as a cucumber.

"We were hoping you would enlighten us as to the events of July the 6th."

Malfoy blanched and paled visibly. His voice, however, remained steady. "July 6th, sir? We had the Masquerade party, if I remember correctly."

"And your costume, Mr Malfoy?"

"Er..." Malfoy cast an uneasy sidelong glance at Neville. "A knight."

"I see," Snape said. "And what did you do after the party?"

"I went back to the common room."

"Can anyone collaborate your story?"

"Pansy could have, but..."

"But Miss Parkinson is not here," Lupin put in. "How convenient." He turned to Snape. "Severus, do get to the point."

Snape fixed Malfoy with a penetrating stare. "Did you, at any time, enter a first floor broom cupboard in the company of Neville Longbottom?"

"No," Malfoy said calmly. "I did not, sir."

Snape frowned. Then he smirked. "Clever, Mr Malfoy. Tell me this, then. Did you at any time enter a first floor broom cupboard, accompanied by anyone?"

Neville saw Malfoy's adam's apple bob in his throat.

"No, sir." But Malfoy gulped and dropped his gaze immediately afterward, apparently unable to look into Snape's eyes as he lied.

"And did you," Snape continued, "Obliviate your companion once you were done with him?"

"No," Malfoy muttered hoarsely.

"I see," Snape said. He looked disgusted. "Well. Lupin, I think it's time to call the Headmaster."

"No!" Malfoy cried. "Wait a minute! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You raped and then Obliviated a student!" Lupin exclaimed. "What do you mean you didn't do anything wrong?"

"I didn't rape him," Malfoy spat angrily. "He wanted to do it! We were both masked, but I knew it had to be a Gryffindor because the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had already left the Hall. I thought he didn't recognize me, but my mask slipped. I panicked! I thought it would be all over school!"

Lupin drew in a breath as though preparing to argue, then exchanged a glance with Snape. Slowly, he breathed out again. "Severus? Is there any way to verify this?"

"I have Veritaserum," Snape said, narrowing his eyes at Malfoy. "Although Mr Malfoy has shown an unfortunate allergic reaction to it in the past."

Malfoy shuddered visibly.

"How about a Pensieve?" Lupin suggested. "Do you have one, or shall I get mine?"

"I have one," Snape said, rising to take a shallow, highly decorated stone bowl down from the top of the cabinet behind him.

Neville watched to proceedings with some unease. The strands that were taken from Malfoy's head plopped into the bowl like silvery slime, jiggling like jelly while settling into a large glob on the bottom.

The professors bent over the Pensieve, heads almost touching. They stayed that way for many minutes.

Finally, Lupin straightened and sighed deeply. "I'm satisfied, Severus. I don't need to see any more."

Snape pushed the Pensive aside.

"Well," Lupin said, his shoulders rising and falling in a weak shrug, "it appears Mr Malfoy was telling the truth."

"WHAT?"

The word had burst out of Neville's mouth before he could stop himself. Everyone turned to look at him.

"Er... I mean, I wouldn't have! I wouldn't have had sex with someone in a broom cupboard, of all places!"

"You did," Snape said dryly. "And enjoyed it, from the looks of it."

"Severus," Lupin said, giving him a look.

"There's no crime here, Lupin," Snape said, waving his hand dismissively. "Only two fools who have ruined their lives for a few minutes of pleasure."

"Ruined our lives?" Malfoy repeated, frowning.

"Mr Longbottom is pregnant," Snape said calmly. He sounded almost bored.

Malfoy choked.

Neville almost -- almost -- felt sorry for him. The other boy turned various shades of red and purple before Lupin's vigorous thumping on his back finally seemed to help.

"P-p-p-pre--"

"Pregnant," Lupin supplied. "Have you any idea how he came to be that way? One of you had to have used a fertility charm."

Malfoy continued to stutter incoherently. Neville, however, wasn't paying attention anymore.

"Neville?"

It took Neville a while to realize Lupin was speaking to him. "Yes, Professor?"

"You look like you've thought of something. Your face went quite pale."

"I... uh..." Neville dropped his gaze, drawing up his shoulders. "I think it may have been my fault, after all."

"You see?" Malfoy cried, jumping up and pointing. "He did it! HE DID IT!"

"Sit down!" Snape bellowed, causing Malfoy to tumble right back into his seat.

"What do you mean, Neville?" Lupin asked gently. "How was it your fault?"

"We had a DA meeting that morning," Neville began reluctantly. "It was Seamus' idea, I think. All of us boys were practicing contraception charms."

"Contraception charms?" Lupin repeated. "I hardly see how --"

"We practiced on mice," Neville said, sighing. "Everyone was laughing because mine... well, they kept getting pregnant, sir."

The office was silent for a very long time. Neville didn't dare look up.

"Well," Lupin said at last. "I... Don't know quite what to say..."

"I do," Snape said snidely. "Of all the dunderheads I've had the displeasure to teach, this one --"

"Severus," Lupin cut in. "Please. Just don't."

Neville dared a sidelong glance at Malfoy.

Malfoy had his arms crossed over his chest, his lips puffed out petulantly.

"We won't have to... uh..." He let his voice drift off as Malfoy turned to glare at him.

Lupin and Snape exchanged another look.

"I don't know, Neville," Lupin said, looking apologetic. "Seeing how neither of you have family, I don't know what requirements will be made of you."

Neville nodded. His Gran, of course, wouldn't have stood for an unwed pregnancy in the family. He didn't know if she would have gone as far as demand he marry a convicted Death Eater's son, but he wouldn't have wanted to bet against it. At least this way there was a chance.

Snape cleared his throat. "Lupin, why don't you take Longbottom now. There is nothing more we can do now."

"You will contact Albus?" Lupin asked, getting to his feet.

"Unless you would prefer to do it."

Lupin shook his head. "This situation did come to your attention first. If you want to handle it, go ahead."

"In that case, I trust you can see yourselves out."

Lupin caught Neville under the arm and pulled him to the door. "Of course. I will come by later, Severus."

Neville caught one last look at Snape and Malfoy as the door swung shut.

Malfoy was frowning at Snape, looking confused.

Snape, however, had a very calculating look on his face...

Neville shook his head.

Snape always had a calculating look. He was probably planning how to make the Gryffindor look worse than the Slytherin when he explained the situation to Dumbledore.

"Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Neville?"

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think you did anything wrong. Other than a mistake in whatever charm you attempted to use, that is. All boys experiment. It doesn't make you a bad person."

"I had sex with Malfoy. That's disgusting."

"You didn't know it was him, after all."

"I don't even remember it."

Lupin paused at the top of the stairs, frowning at their reflection in the shiny hourglasses that measured House points. "If you wish, we can work on restoring your memory. I doubt Malfoy's spell was strong enough to erase everything. More likely the memories from that night are merely suppressed."

"I don't want them back, if that's all right," Neville said quickly. He figured he was going to have enough nightmares as it was.

"Yes, well," Lupin hesitated again, looking around. "Yes, that's fine. I think we better take you to the infirmary now. I do hope Madam Pomfrey hasn't gone to bed yet. It looks to be quite late."

Neville trailed after Lupin, feet dragging. He didn't want to see the mediwitch. It would make his predicament all the more real.

"Why don't you wait here, while I go in and talk with her?" Lupin asked, motioning to one of the chairs in the reception area of the hospital wing.

"All right," Neville mumbled, sinking into the chair.

Lupin was in Pomfrey's office a long time. The frosted glass door didn't allow Neville to see more than their outlines, and he couldn't hear anything that was being said. After a few minutes, his mind drifted.

He was pregnant by Draco Malfoy.

Granted, Malfoy hadn't been a Death Eater, but he was the next best thing -- the son of one.

And he had tormented Neville and his friends since the moment they got on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago.

How could he have let this happened?

Had he been that hard up for a shag that he jumped into a broom cupboard with the first boy who asked, without even bothering to check who was under the mask?

That seemed to have been the case. Lupin, anyway, seemed satisfied that Neville had done it all of his own free will.

"Neville?"

Neville looked up, a shuddering sigh escaping.

Lupin was walking toward him. "You can go on in. Would you like me to stay with you?"

"No, thank you, sir," Neville said, shaking his head as he got to his feet.

"I will check on you later, then."

Neville watched him go, sighing again before turning to go into the infirmary.

"There you are, Mr Longbottom," Pomfrey said in her usual cheerful voice. "Take off your clothes and hop onto this bed, and we will see how you are doing."

"Terribly," Neville muttered under his breath. But he shed his robes and climbed onto the bed.

Pomfrey drew the curtains around the bed for privacy.

"Yes," she said, after poking and prodding his distended belly. "Four and a half months along, at least. I would have preferred to start your prenatal care much earlier than this, but..."

"Sorry," Neville mumbled. "I didn't know."

"Of course not, dear," Pomfrey said. "You young people never do suspect it until you can ignore it no longer. You would be surprised how often this happens."

Somehow, that didn't make Neville feel any better about his own situation. Besides, nothing was going to convince him that anybody, ever, had suffered the way he had. No one else was ever pregnant by Draco Malfoy.

Pomfrey completed her examination, which involved more poking and prodding and some complicated wand movements that left Neville dizzy from trying to follow along with his eyes.

"All done, dear," she announced, capping the jar of thick, viscous gel that she had rubbed firmly into his navel. "Would you prefer to return to your dormitory, or spend the night here? It's past curfew, but I can write a hall pass or have someone escort you. We wouldn't want you to be caught by Mr Filch, now would we?" She smiled, as though having made a most witty joke.

"I'll stay here, if you don't mind," Neville said, thinking with dread of having to explain the hundred-point loss to his friends. Even if he managed to avoid all mention of the pregnancy...

"Of course I don't mind," Pomfrey was saying. "Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some biscuits and milk?"

"No, thank you."

Finally, she left.

Neville lay down, drew up the covers over his head, and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't think he would be able to sleep at all that night. There was a tight, achy feeling in his chest, and behind his eyes. It was hard to breathe.

He let the tears fall rather than wait for them to choke him.

By the time he finished, the pillow was soaked clear through.

But Neville didn't care. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep, his face still hidden in his hands.

He might have wished for morning to never come, but inevitably it did. Before he even opened his eyes, he could hear the howling wind and the sleet beating furiously against the windows.

Neville sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

The first thing he saw was Professor Lupin, who was dozing in the visitor's chair. Almost as though he had felt Neville watching him, Lupin startled awake.

"Good morning, Neville. Feeling all right?"

"Yes," Neville said guardedly. After the events of the previous night, his trust in Lupin had lessened considerably.

"Why don't you wash up a bit?" Lupin pointed to the wash basin and pitcher of water that stood at the foot of Neville's bed. "Then we can go down to the Headmaster's office together."

Neville climbed slowly out of bed, wishing he had never woken up at all.

He got ready, not even trying to take longer than necessary. There was no point delaying, no matter how he dreaded facing Dumbledore. Snape would probably be there, too, making sure his precious Slytherin wasn't unduly blamed.

"Is Malfoy going to be there?" he asked, looking up at Lupin as they left the infirmary.

"Yes..." Lupin's steps slowed, and he glanced at Neville with something like pity in his eyes. "Neville. I feel I must warn you..."

"What is it?" Neville asked, his heart sinking like lead.

"Well, I... It seems Professor Dumbledore thinks it would be best if... That is, all of us -- Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and I, think that..."

"You're going to make me marry Malfoy, aren't you?" Neville whispered hoarsely.

Lupin wouldn't meet his eyes. "Well, I wouldn't say 'make', Neville. Professor Dumbledore seems to think it would be best if you did. Times are hard in the Wizarding World, and public sentiment has swayed toward the conservative since the end of the war..."

"You're going to make me marry Malfoy," Neville repeated shakily.

Lupin sniffed and didn't reply.

All the way down the long corridor, the only sound was that of their footsteps.

"Snape did it," Neville said suddenly. He hadn't meant to say the thought aloud. It had burst out of him.

"What's that, Neville? What did Professor Snape do?"

"He set this up. He said something to Dumbledore to convince him Malfoy and I should get married."

"Why would he do something like that?"

Neville shook his head. "I just know he did."

Lupin frowned at him. They had reached the twin gargoyles guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "I don't think..."

"It must be good for Malfoy, somehow," Neville said, not letting him finish. "I just know it, Professor."

Lupin continued to frown, but he knocked firmly on the protruding stone above one of the gargoyles. "I'm sure we can discuss this, Neville, but I doubt this was the case. Professor Dumbledore would not make such a decision lightly."

Neville shook his head. He didn't say another word as he watched the staircase appear in front of them.

What was the point in arguing? He was seventeen, barely likely to pass his NEWTs even if he wasn't pregnant, and he had no money and no family to stand behind him. Dumbledore was his guardian, just like he was the guardian of many of the other students who had been left without a home or relatives to take care of them until they came of age. He was probably Malfoy's guardian, as well. Or else Snape was. Between them, they had the right to force Neville and Malfoy to marry.

"Come along, Neville," Lupin said impatiently from the stairs.

Neville sighed again.

What could he do?

The Ministry would go along with whatever Dumbledore wanted, not what a pair of underage wizards wanted, especially since there was a pregnancy involved. The Wizarding World at large would probably want them to marry, under the circumstances, as well.

"Coming," Neville said, stepping up.

The staircase began to move, taking them higher and higher as it wound around its axis. Already, he could hear voices up above.

They came to a lurching halt at the landing. Dumbledore's office, full of gadgets and moving portraits and unusual objects, was spread out in front of them.

"Neville," Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully. "I'm so glad you could join us this morning. Lemon drop?"

Neville shook his head. His mouth had gone dry at the sight of Snape and Malfoy sitting side by side at one end of Dumbledore's desk. Malfoy was staring at the floor, but Neville thought his eyes had flicked upward to look at him through a fringe of pale blond hair.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he saw the same defeat there that he felt inside himself.

"Sit down, Neville, sit down," Dumbledore said, still smiling kindly. "We have a lot to discuss."

Feeling sick, Neville slumped into the chair Lupin had pulled out for him.