Harry Potter was no ordinary boy. Any member of the wizarding population would tell you that. For one thing, he was famous. Though, not for anything he himself had done, not really. For what made Harry Potter famous was a large, unsightly scar on his forehead. This he got from a dark wizard, one so evil his name is uttered by very few and is most commonly referred to as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', though, for purposes of this story, we shall call him by his real name; Lord Voldemort. Now, Voldemort had been dead for some time as this story begins, though that is a tale for another time perhaps. The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, had become The Man Who Was The Boy Who Lived, or something along those lines. Anyway, he had grown up and graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry almost one year before the day this story begins; insert date here

Harry was currently lying on the large feather bed that he shared with his fiancé. Letting out a sigh, he turned to look at the clock beside the bed, magic of course, which read 5:17. Draco would be home soon. Harry let out another sigh and closed his eyes, thinking of the best way to tell his lover the little 'surprise' he had for him. One hand absent-mindedly slid to his stomach and lay there as Harry thought back to the time he had first met the blonde-haired wonder he was engaged to.

It had been in 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' where they had first met. Harry had disliked the boy immensely at first, seeing as how stuck up he was, though he had since learned it was just an act. Draco was just trying to get his attention, get him to notice him. A noble attempt, Harry thought, even if it didn't work. They didn't hit it off any better on the train. Malfoy, as he was too often referred to as the time, was trying too hard to impress so he came across as being a bully somewhat. Then there was his family's reputation to keep; Lucius was hardly what you would call a devoted father, barely noticing his son most of the time. It was a wonder Draco hadn't turned out more, well, nasty. Everyone thought he was going to become a Death-Eater, but he proved them all wrong in helping with the defeat of Voldemort, saving Harry's life and almost losing his own in the process.

Many people wondered how two seemingly opposite souls could get together and work so well as a couple. It wasn't hard, really. They had a lot in common, beginning with their mutual dislike of each other. Draco's initial liking of Harry changed as he took Harry's rejection of his friendship to heart and took it upon himself to make the boy's life as miserable as possible, even if it was really only a cry for attention.

It was in Harry's sixth year, near the beginning, when he had begun to feel something akin to love for his tormentor, though it was more like lust. Unbeknown to him, Draco still felt the same way and was beginning to get rather desperate. It was during a trip to Hogsmead in their seventh year that Draco made his move. He often wandered around there alone, so no one thought much of his disappearing for the day, until Harry came across him, that is. The dark-haired youth had separated from his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, who wanted some 'alone time' after finally getting together. Lord knows what they were doing, but Harry wasn't thinking about that. He was more preoccupied by the fact that he had been roughly shoved up against the stone wall of a building by a very strong arm belonging to a very handsome young man.

"Malfoy!" It came out as a squeak rather than an exclamation, surprise evident in his voice. "What do you want?" The smirk adorning Draco's face had only widened, sensing that Harry was more than a little nervous. He didn't answer, just leaned in closer to his captive. Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath. Draco had clearly been drinking heavily, and it was definitely something stronger than butterbeer. He was not himself.

"Gods, you're beautiful." Draco stopped moving, their lips barely centimeters apart. Harry's green eyes widened as Draco closed the distance to press his lips to Harry's in a somewhat lop-sided kiss. Harry didn't care though. If Draco was so drunk he would want to kiss him, well, he wouldn't remember it in the morning, right? He took the chance, knowing there probably wouldn't be another, and kissed the drunken blonde back, moaning a little without realising it.

Their hands were all over each other, rubbing and tugging at clothes, desperate for contact. Harry was all-too-aware of their situation, the clod stone on his back a constant reminder, but he couldn't care less. He was kissing Draco, the object of his affections for the past year, and Draco was kissing him back. The kiss ended abruptly as Draco fell. He was, fortunately, caught by Harry before his decent brought him to the cold, hard floor, which would most probably have caused injury to the unmarked blonde. Harry sunk to his knees under the weight of the surprisingly heavy teen, holding his body close. He was vaguely aware that he was stroking Draco's hair as they sat there, a small smile on his face.

"Oh shit." It finally sank in; Harry was sitting in the middle of Hogsmead, it was getting dark, he should have been back at Hogwarts at least an hour ago and he was holding a very intoxicated, very unconscious Draco Malfoy in his arms. He had a feeling he was going to get into trouble over this one. And, indeed he did. Or, rather, they both did, seeing as how excessive drinking to the point of passing out was a violation of more than one school rule. This was, perhaps, one of the worst (or best) mistakes made by professor Snape; locking two increadibly horny teenage boys in a room for two hours and leaving them half way through.

Thus, their long and meaningful relationship began in a dark, dank, depressing dungeon while cleaning out cauldrons for a cranky old potions master. Snape, leaving around fourty-five minutes into their detention for a Death-Eaters meeting, had no idea what he had, inadvertantly, set in motion. As soon as the greasy slime-ball had left, Draco threw himself on Harry, catching the surprised teen off-guard and knocking him to the floor with a resounding thud. Fortunately for Harry, Draco had a very good memory, whether he was drunk or not, and decided that if Harry was going to kiss back when Draco was drunk, he might just do it when he was sober. Fortunately for Draco, he was right. Harry did kiss back, their lips meshing together, tongues battling for dominance. Draco won, of course, not one to be 'bottom' in anything young mister Malfoy had refused to give in before Harry had.

Naturally, one thing led to another, kisses led to a distinct lack of clothing and then on to certain *other* things, which shall not be mentioned. Their passionate embrace was cut horribly short, though, by Snape returning from the meeting earlier than they had expected. An arched eyebrow was enough to inform them both of what he thought. Draco was horribly embarrassed, Harry really couldn't care less.

The whole school knew by the next morning.

A door clicked shut downstairs. Soft footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs and the familiar blonde poked his head around the doorframe. Harry smiled brightly at the figure in the doorway, watching as he sauntered over to sit beside him on the bed. Light, tender kisses turned to passionate, needy ones. This was the way it always was; Harry stayed home while Draco went to work for the Ministry. When he arrived home, they would engage in various sexual activities, shower, eat whatever the house elves had prepared, have more sex, another shower (Draco was obsessed with cleanliness), some cuddle time, more sex, then bed. Tonight, however, Harry was going to break the cycle. Pushing his lover away, he looked deep into those confused grey depths and sighed, almost losing himself.

"What is it, love?" Draco sounded so concerned, so caring. Harry really didn't deserve him.

"There's something I have to tell you. It's important." And indeed it was. It would change both of their lives, for better or worse was debatable, but the change was inevitable.

"What is it? You know you can tell me anything." Draco looked a little worried, to say the least. In fact, he looked terrified.

"Promise you wont freak? It's kinda weird." Harry was scared. More so than Draco as he was afraid of his Lovers' response.

"After all we've been through, what could possibly make me 'freak'?" A small smile graced those perfect lips, reassuring and comforting Harry to the point where he was almost unafraid of what he was about to say.

Almost.

"I'm pregnant."