𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 : 𝐌𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Single Chapter

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter sat in Dumbledore's office, lollypops in their mouths. Draco looked bored; Harry looked earnest.

"What is it this time, Professor?" he asked confidently, as Dumbledore stroked his lush, full head of glossy hair, one of the inevitable results of the tremendous rate of shagging going on between the hero and his consort sitting in Dumbledore's office. Filch's sensitive skin problem had cleared up and he could shave properly (a vast improvement), Sybil Trelawney's athlete's foot had disappeared, and she had descended from her lofty perch at the summit of Hogwarts was now constantly throwing fancy dress parties for all and sundry in the Great Hall, Professor Flitwick and grown an entire three inches and now fit perfectly into his favourite set of robes, and finally Dumbledore retired his comb over in favour of this new beautiful head of hair. Harry sat on the edge of his seat, his jaw firm with resolution. "What kind of danger is the world in today? Comets speeding madly toward the planet? Dinosaurs resurrected and destroying American cities? Is it the Ozone again?"

Draco yawned and picked lint off his trousers.

"I'm afraid it's not that, Harry. It's something...far more personal. As wonderful as it is that you two can save the world and solve problems great and small with your vigorous copulation, I'm afraid it's got to stop. Right now."

"What?" Draco's head shot up. He looked somewhat less bored.

"No more saving the world? But...what about the penguins trapped on ice floes in the Antarctic? Dolphins separated from their families, little children without toys at Christmas? What about the—"

"I'm afraid the penguins and dolphins will have to wait, Mr. Potter. You two simply must stop saving the world. We have a new problem."

"Sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, we hadn't researched all the possible side effects. While your zealous intercourse can do many wonderful things, it turns out that your exclusivity has triggered a new kind of miracle. Extended periods of monogamous, world-saving coitus seems to have prepared the two of you for...things seemingly impossible."

"Monogamous?" Harry gaped, and turned to look at Draco.

"Monogamous?" He repeated.

"Yes well." Draco looked at his nails.

"What about that ongoing fling with Blaise you keep throwing in my face? Or that time when you were convinced that Neville was your one true love? Or that threesome with Crabbe and Goyle you told everyone about?"

"Hmph." Draco's fingernails were clearly very fascinating.

"Your big secret is that you've been monogamous?"

Draco sighed. "It's just not something Malfoys do."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Now, now, gentlemen. On with the problem at hand." He opened a drawer and pulled out a top. Setting it in the middle of his desk, he spun it around, and watched it. Then he continued. "The problem that cannot be solved by your intimate relations but can only be caused by it, you see, is that one of you will almost certainly get pregnant."

There was a lengthy pause, filled only by the sound of the top whirring on Dumbledore's desk.

"I hate to be the one to inform you, sir," Draco said, dryly. "But neither of us possess the equipment required to gestate babies, unless the duodenum has a use hitherto unknown."

"I'm afraid that the amazing power your carnal union knows few boundaries, Mr. Malfoy, in case you hadn't already noticed. If the two of you continue on your heroic quest to rid the world of all suffering," Dumbledore stroked his lush head of hair again, "one of you will most definitely become pregnant. In fact, we suspect that one of you is ovulating in preparation right now."