Drarry Oneshots (𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆)

One Day's Difference

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Author: MelCalder ( on ao3 )

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Saturday, October 11th, 2003

1:25 a.m.

Draco jolted awake with a gasp. His eyes blinked open and he looked around for what had woken him up. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, however.

He looked over to the window, which was tilted open, a gentle breeze moving the curtains. Had something happened outside beneath the window? The bedroom window went out towards the garden, though, so what could have happened there? A cat maybe?

He let his eyes wander around the room. The door to the ensuite was still closed, as was the door that led outside to the hall. In the right-hand corner of the room, next to the window, stood the grey armchair that Draco had bought about two years ago when he had moved in. His clothes from the previous day lay on it, neatly folded. A reading lamp stood on a small table next to the chair and beside it stood a large bookshelf made from dark wood, overflowing with all kinds of books, wizarding and muggle. On the left side of the room stood a large wardrobe, made from wood that matched the bookshelf. Just like the king-sized bed that Draco was lying in now. Nothing had moved, everything remained where Draco had put it before he had gone to bed.

The picture frames that lined the walls hadn't been moved either. All of them had been neatly hung at the same height thus creating a border around the room. The pictures were from different trips that had taken Draco all around the world. He had needed to get out after the war. He had needed to see something else, something besides this fucked up, grieving excuse for a country.

But all of that lay in the past, he thought, as his gaze fell to the right side of the bed where Harry lay sprawled on his stomach. Draco's face rearranged itself into a contented smile as he regarded his husband of roughly one and a half years. His hair was even more of a disaster than during the day. It was beyond him how Harry, whose own grandfather had made his fortune with hair potions, didn't seem to be able to tame this mess. Then again, what would he do, if Harry's hair were suddenly neat and tidy? He would probably lose him all the time, if he wasn't able to make him out by the atrocious bird's nest on his head. He reached out to tangle his hands in that thick, soft mess, when—

"Shit," he hissed, and his hands flew to his middle. And just like that he knew what had woken him up. His hands rubbed over his swollen stomach, which was suddenly very hard, and he tried to breathe through the pain, just as their midwife Luna had taught him in the weeks and weeks of birthing classes he and Harry had taken. Harry had had to drag him to each and every one of them kicking and screaming, but in this moment, Draco was nothing if not glad to know how to help himself. The pain stopped soon enough and Draco breathed a relieved sigh.

"Okay, Draco," he whispered to himself. "That wasn't so bad. You can handle this."

For a moment, he was tempted to wake Harry up, but even if reluctantly, he had paid enough attention during their classes to know that labour could take forever. Harry probably needed all the sleep he could get now. Knowing his husband, Draco expected him to rush into a panic at the news that he had just had his first contractions. Harry wouldn't manage to fall back asleep and that meant that Draco probably wouldn't get much rest either. Because Harry had paid attention in those classes (like really) and he would be falling all over himself with ideas on how to help Draco, thus ensuring Harry's untimely death.

"Damn it," he cursed as another wave of pain shot through his lower back and belly. He breathed, cursed and then finally relaxed again as the pain subsided.