Expectant

Written for the H/D Mpreg'18 fest. The prompt was:
Harry would have appreciated some warning that Alpha male werewolves can impregnate their male Veela mates.  

[Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the work of J.K. Rowling and is not my intellectual property. I intend no copyright infringement and seek no financial gain from this work. This work of fiction is purely for entertainment purposes and honestly, it's basically just porn.]  

.i.

Harry stares at the nervous tic in the sharp ridge of Malfoy's jaw.

"So... You said you needed to talk?"

Malfoy doesn't answer him. He's clenching his teeth so hard that Harry can almost hear the dull grinding.

"Are you alright, then? You look a bit--"

Frigid grey eyes snap up to his and Harry hurriedly abandons his statement, pursing his lips and watching Malfoy shred tissue after tissue in staunch silence, the little pile of spontaneous confetti between the salt and pepper shakers and the grimy bottle of HP sauce gradually growing.

Malfoy keeps his gaze on his own hands, his fingers long, skeletally thin and white, nails bitten down to the quick, lunulae standing out starkly in the pink beds. His right knee bounces furiously below the table, a single, hot gust of air blowing out his flared nostrils from time to time. He has his scraggly blond hair pulled back in a tiny ponytail at the nape of his neck, several bunches of the dry, straw-like strands escaping the elastic and framing his thin face, the ends of it just falling past his jaw. His lips are chapped and bright pink, his nose almost unnaturally straight, and his dark blond, fan like lashes flutter as he finally returns Harry's gaze, just for a beat.

Despite looking downright knackered, his eyes are over-bright, sharp, and they dart about incessantly, never staying on Harry for more than a fraction of a second. Not for the first time, Harry takes in the dark bags under Malfoy's eyes, the lines of expertly suppressed anxiety etched across his forehead and around his mouth; his faded, slightly baggy clothes, sunken cheeks, and the general unkempt air he carries.

And Harry just cannot understand why he's unable to keep his eyes off him. Nothing about his current appearance is worth a second glance and yet, Harry sits, trying his hardest not to blink very often so he can stare at him that much longer. There's a certain grace about Malfoy, a muted glow, and Harry is part confused and part mesmerised by him.

It's unnerving.

So Harry sighs irritably - loudly. "Malfoy, what am I doing here?" he demands, dipping his head and trying to catch his gaze. "You did owl and ask to meet me, yes?"

Malfoy looks up, tossing aside the last of his shredded tissue, leaning back in his seat, expression shuttered and cool.

"'ere you are, love."

They both look around as the server bustles over, placing a plate loaded with fried eggs, sausages and tomatoes in front of Malfoy, who immediately hunches over his plate, picking up his knife and fork. Harry wraps both hands around the mug of black coffee set before him, head tilted as he watches Malfoy spear up a slice of tomato and shove it into his mouth before immediately following it up with half a sausage.

"Tea?" the server asks, setting down a little pot of cream next to Harry's elbow.

Malfoy nods, wiping the corners of his mouth neatly. "Earl Grey, if you have it."

She tells him they don't and Malfoy settles for a cup of Darjeeling instead. Harry waits in silence, drinking his coffee and watching Malfoy steadily demolish his breakfast.