Expectant || Drarry

10

One of the many, many joys of being a pregnant Veela-wizard (along with the tender nipples, bloated feet, sudden skin sensitivity, extreme, hormone-fuelled mood swings, near-loss of bladder control with each increasingly frequent urge to urinate and the nearly permanent, burning hunger resulting sometimes in delightfully shameless two AM binges in front of the television) were the random shifts in sleep patterns. Draco finds himself wide awake most nights, regardless of the music-box Potter brought him and sometimes regardless of being genuinely tired.

He wakes up one evening sometime after six PM, after having fallen asleep post lunch, with a backache and, of course, a raging boner.

Because Draco is now also desperately randy - all the time.

Just over five months pregnant, he's showing now, plainly and clearly visible through his clothes, and Potter simply does not take his eyes off him. This means that when Draco is in the room with him, Potter just watches him, staring with that same unabashed, heated intensity that had overwhelmed Draco the night at the club (which in turn means that Draco is nearly always hard in Potter's presence); but it also means that when Potter is not around Draco, he comes looking for Draco - because Potter, apparently, is convinced that Draco might trip over his own swollen feet and land on his protruding belly, or accidentally set himself on fire or something. And so despite (not so) secretly thrilling at the raw hunger with which Potter watches him, Draco comes very close to hurling whatever he can get his hands on across the room every time Potter's untamed head pokes into the room, vivid green eyes wide and anxious behind those stupid fucking glasses.

They've visited Granger for two more scheduled visits since their second and on the last one, two days ago, they'd watched their now significantly larger baby wiggle and squirm around as Granger had pointed out each new development, the flexing fingers and toes, the longer limbs, the stronger spine, the way it pulled little faces, and the way it seemed to just move so much in there, Draco finally seeing what he'd been feeling inside him for several days.

Potter, the enormous prat, had choked back tears again and Draco had been quick to take the mickey simply because it helped staunch Draco's own horrifying rush of some more of those emotions he's always feeling now. It's only with some effort that Draco managed to retain his mask of impassivity in front of Granger and Potter during these appointments, and he hasn't yet mentioned to either of them that he reads to the baby every night now. He supposes he ought to feel guilty for not offering to let Potter engage with the baby too, but he's not sure he'd be able to sit there and watch the git gush at his belly with his sparkling eyes and excited grin without, well, jumping him (and snogging him unconscious).

Potter had touched Draco's belly at this appointment after silently seeking permission with an entreating tilt of his head to which Draco had responded with a single nod. Potter's large, slightly rough hand had rested warmly on Draco's stomach, just to the side of his navel, and they'd, along with Granger, watched as the baby had responded to the touch nearly instantly with a surprisingly strong kick, prompting Potter to yelp and pull back his hand as though bitten, Draco trying to glare at him through their shared, exhilarated laughter as he'd rubbed the spot on his belly where he'd felt it.

Granger had only just asked them, with a mysterious little smirk, whether they'd like to know the gender of the baby when her stupendously oafish husband had barged into the office, freezing at the sight of Draco with his belly out, and had almost fallen backwards out the door when Draco had begun bellowing expletives at him, Potter hurrying out after him with an apologetic grimace.

But he'd gratefully grabbed the moment and mentioned his increasingly unbearable randiness (phrased in a more genteel manner, of course) to Granger then, after he'd righted his robes and sat down with her. He'd murmured through grit teeth, and Granger, to her credit, hadn't even cracked a smile as she'd nodded and assured him that it's perfectly normal -although her eyes did take on the aggravatingly meaningful glint they often did, when Potter had hurried back into the room a few seconds later. Draco had blushed furiously and squirmed in his seat, almost convinced that Granger knew he was half-hard just from that sudden fresh burst of Potter's earthy scent filling the room.