Yours {Drarry|MPreg}

•veintitrés•

"Is Pops ever coming back to work?" Scorpius asked, looking up at his father as he sat upside down on the lounge in Draco's office.

"I'm busy, Hyperion. Why don't you floo call and ask him?" Draco wasn't angry at his son, he was just feeling more than a bit snappish because he had the same bloody question for his husband. Harry had taken leave for...well for obvious reasons. They had two, magical, tiny, twin terrors who were well under two months old and needed constant attention.

"We'll make Malfoy's of them, yet!" Father had whispered excitedly when they spit up all over his Christmas sweater, a few days ago when they were all invited to dinner at the burrow and Mother insisted he wear it.

"I did," said Scorpius in response, not noticing his father's foul mood at the situation. "He said to ask you and if you didn't know for you to go ask Professor McGonagal to see how long he's allowed to be out."

"Of course he did," Draco murmured sarcastically, not pulling his eyes or attention away from marking parchment essays. "What if I don't and say I did?"

"D~ad," whined the slightly shorter blonde.

Draco looked up at him pointedly this time. "Shouldn't you be in your common room or the library doing your homework?"

"I'm avoiding Nick," the boy admitted.

"Avoiding Nick? What did he do? I thought things were fine. He and Nat came to the manor to visit, were they there to see your Papa and I? I brought all of you back to the castle together, was-"

"No!" Scorpius' blush was disguised by the fact that the blood had been flowing to his head from laying upside down anyway and quickly sat up straight. "I'm fine W-we're fine. I mean, they're f-f-fine. I have to go." Without another word he was out the door only to peep back in with a: "Call Papa!" before he was off again.

"You don't tell me what to do," Draco mumbles to himself, yet he still stands and moves towards his fireplace to call his husband.

--:--

"Draco?" Harry asks, peeping at his husband through the flames of their sitting room fireplace.

"Potter, when do you expect you'll be back at work?"

"Honestly?"

"No, of course not. I expected you to lie to me."

"I don't think I am," the messy haired man says in a rush. "At least no time soon. I'm thinking of doing something else until the girls are old enough for primary or home school or whatever..."

"And you didn't think you should tell me you felt this way?" asked a stunned Draco. "I- I thought you liked teaching."

"I've been meaning to tell you and well..." Harry was nervous but had a way of forcing himself through that sounded strained but confident all the same. The paler man had been trying to figure out how he did it for years now. "Teaching isn't the problem. You're right," he concedes. "I do like it. I bloody love teaching, but we stay at the castle and I can't- I don't want to be that far from the girls for so long when they're so young."

"Harry, you know I understand. It tears me up being here knowing that you guys are there, but I trust you to tell me what's going on. You can't keep stuff life this from me." He paused for a minute, thinking back on every other time he had asked Harry about coming back to work only for the man to avoid the topic altogether if he could help it. "How long have you known?"

"Draco-"

"Potter, how long have you known you weren't coming back to Hogwarts?" asked the blonde trying to keep his composure. Through Harry's pregnancy he had learned to be the calmer of the two of them. To not blow up about things. That didn't mean it was always easy. Especially when his husband seemed to be forever finding new ways to piss him off.

"Maybe since Christmas," mumbled the darker man, but through the flames it came out clear as a bell.

"Since Christmas!? That was way more than a month ago!" Harry could tell Draco was working his way towards being livid and when he thought about it, he couldn't really blame him, but for as long as he could remember, an angry Draco Malfoy meant he should be on the defensive.

"What's your point?" he asked with feigned disinterest and the blonde narrowed his eyes at him.

"You don't think that decision constituted a floo call or an owl or a request for me to come home-"

"I didn't think you owned me, so no," Harry said with his arms crossed.

"I'm not trying to insinuate that I own you, you big-headed bastard. I'm trying to remind you that a relationship is about communication; that marriage is about commitment."

"So now I'm not committed to our marriage?" Harry says petulantly.

"Of course not! I know you're committed to this- You know what, I'm done having this conversation. Don't come back to work, see if I care." Draco removed himself from the flames and back at the manor, Harry did the same before they each collapsed tiredly onto a chair. They had been together and trying to work things out for so long, they had almost forgotten what it was like to argue and be mad with each other.

Harry stood abruptly when either Lyra or Anita began to cry. He was still trying to figure out which was which. Anita was the eldest, sure, but he didn't want to keep doing an age verification spell whenever he wanted to figure it out. He remembered the first time he met Fred and George and the sheer confusion they purposefully created and groaned as he walked into the nursery. Lyra was still sleeping in her crib which means this had to be Anita.

"Oh, hi my love," Harry whispers, scooping her up into his arms in a perpetual rocking motion. He pats her diapered butt with one hand and continues to slightly rock and bounce. When her breathing slowed again he moved to lie her back into her crib when he had one of the biggest shocks of his life.

-&-

yooo futher muckers

"favoring the bold" is finally done (if you've read any of that, i mean)

finishing this up next
then there are new-ish things in the works

lemme know whatcha think about this chappie

hope you enjoyed
love y'all

-- angel janeé xoxo 💋