Formidable

Chapter 9

Two months later...

"Come on, Draco! You're going to be late!" Harry sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Hang on!!" Draco had been upstairs trying to find a pair of trousers that would fit him. His belly was starting to bulge slightly, and his usually slim-fit trousers and jeans were all now far-too-tight-to-be-slim-fit trousers and jeans. He grunted, letting his hands fall beside him as he raised his eyes to the sky. "Right, that's it." He said to himself, storming over to Harry's chest of drawers and pulling out a neatly folded pair of grey joggers, practically ripping his previous trousers off and shoving those on instead.

He surveyed himself in the mirror, grimacing at what he saw, turning to the side and pointedly glaring at the mirror, looking directly at his tummy, then looking down at his actual tummy, pointing his finger at it claiming it was all the baby's fault that Draco was miserable.

He grabbed the nearest pair of trainers, not caring at this point that they were Harry's, as 1. They were both the same size shoe, and 2. He'd made enough of a mess of his appearance that a pair of yellowed, creased trainers wasn't going to do a great deal of damage.

He untied the laces wandlessly, slipping them on his feet, and tying the laces once again, wandlessly. He finally showed up down the stairs ten minutes late, grinning at Harry's crosses arms and fake exasperation.

"Ready to go, your highness?" Harry took the piss, earning a punch to the arm as Draco opened the door, grabbing his keys from the ceramic bowl on the little table situated by said door, and making his way out to the car.

Harry wasn't able to get a word in edgeways, calling to Draco that they'd have to floo just as Draco was about to open the car door.

"Oh. Really?" He deflated.

"Yes. Really. We're late, love." Harry explained.

Draco didn't comment, making his way back into the house and into the living room, dumping his keys back into the ceramic bowl, and fixing his raggy t-shirt.

"Ready?" Harry asked with a handful of floo powder in his grasp. Draco nodded, smiling at him and grabbing Harry's free hand.

"St. Mungo's!" He called, and green flames erupted from the fireplace, transporting the two of them to St. Mungo's.

—

"Your baby is about the size of a plum, right now." Hermione smiled, clasping her hands together.

Both Harry and Draco looked at one another. With Draco hitting 12 weeks, he was beginning to show, which also meant Harry was unable to keep his hands to himself under any circumstances, always roaming Draco's stomach, giving excuses to touch it all the time. It drove Draco mad, but he loved it wholly, never wanting Harry to stop and never pushing him away.

"A plum?" Draco exhaled sharply, sitting forward to look closer at the ultrasound scan hermione had produced with her wand.

She nodded, catching Harry's eye, who was previously switching between gazing at Draco in awe, and moon over Draco's stomach, currently exposed to Hermione's wand.

He looked up at her, chuckling wetly, causing Draco to look behind him, finding Harry's eyes glazed with unshed tears. Draco smiled at him, outstretching his arms, "C'mere, love." Harry shuffled off the stool he was perched upon and immediately burying his face into the crook on Draco's neck, fingers grasping Draco's shirt for purchase. His body shook minutely with little cries, his tears wetting Draco's ragged t-shirt.

Hermione has always been comfortable with the intimacy between Harry and Draco, and had never been intimidated by their nature around each other. But right now, she felt as though she was interrupting something exceedingly intimate, and felt she hadn't a place in the room at that point, so she laid her clipboard down on the side, and stood slowly.