Memory Loss (Harry Potter Drarry slash)

12: [And so the Tables Were Turned 1] Hazardous Hiccups

The family father role was really growing on them both, and life could not have been better. They were enjoying each day of parenthood, never for a moment regretting that they had decided to have the baby, even after all that had happened ...

But it all worked out fine, actually. Piper had kept pretty much out of the way, Tom was dead and buried, and they had the huge Malfoy Manor all to themselves; nothing more out of the ordinary happened.

Now, James was thirteen months and walking around the house like a little drunken goblin-although he did not look like a goblin, thank God! It was really hard to believe that that little innocent toddler, who always smiled and had such a wonderful, melodious laugh, could have turned into such a vicious and deranged creature as Tom. Or, well, would turn into such a vicious and deranged creature, rather. Technically, none of that had happened yet.

And perhaps it never would-perhaps they had already changed enough of their own and their son's future by giving him a completely different name than what had obviously been intended from the beginning.

Hopefully they would never have to face Tom again.

Watching his son playing on the floor of the parlour, Harry could not help but think back on the problematic pregnancy with a knowing smile on his lips. He particularly remembered one morning when Draco was in his fourth month ...

Harry had been in the bathroom, busy shaving, when he heard the terrified shriek from down the hall. Worried that something was utterly wrong, he hurried back to their bedroom with the electric razor in one hand and his wand in the other, his face white with shaving cream, like an old man's beard.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked Draco, who was standing beside the bed with a look of despair in his grey eyes, hysterically waving his arms about.

"Look at me! Look at me!" he wailed, tears in his eyes.

He was wearing a set of pyjamas much too big for him in order to cover up the fact that he was swiftly getting rounder by the day, and now the pyjama bottoms were sliding off his hip.

Harry did not understand what was wrong. "I'm looking, I'm looking, but what am I looking at?" he asked confusedly.

Draco moaned as if to reproach him on just how stupid he was for not noticing. He quickly walked over to his lover and grabbed his right hand, in which he held his wand. Draco twisted the wand out of his hand and threw it on the bed, then he put it on his chest. "Here! Do you feel that?"

Harry was actually a little afraid of the wild look in the blonde's eyes. But he felt it, alright. And was amazed. "You're ... big. And soft ..." He gave it a squeeze, fascinated.

Draco pulled away, grimacing. "Ouch! That hurts! Be a little more careful, will you?"

"Sorry. But, Draco, you're ... how can you ... I mean, it's almost as if you ... like, you know, a girl." He tried to formulate a coherent sentence, but it all just came out as random, incoherent rambling.

Draco sighed irritably. "Oh, go on and say it! I have boobs!"

"Yeah ... well, you do ..."

"I know-and they are bloody killing me!"

"Come on, it can't be that bad," Harry tried to reassure, but only succeeded to infuriate Draco further.

"Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD?! Do you have any idea how it feels to have two huge bombs on your chest, all swelled up with who-knows-what, that feel as if they're about to burst any second?"