Position: Keeper

Prompt: Write about a pregnancy that causes problems for the relevant parties

Word Count: 2,082

000

His father was going to kill him. Correction, he was going to kill his child, torture him, then kill him. Never mind the fact it was completely not his fault he was attacked, the mere fact it'd happened at all would be enough to infuriate his father. "You should have fought harder," his father would say. "Clearly, you're not worthy of my time if you're not even going to defend yourself from some inhiberated wizard from off the street." And then he'd kill his child, torture him, then kill him.

Never mind his child wasn't even born yet.

Never mind it still bore Malfoy and Black blood.

Never mind his child was still a pureblood.

No, an upstanding, Dark, pureblood family such as theirs could never be tainted by a bastard, no matter the blood purity, no matter the circumstances, no matter the parents. Especially sired by two wizards.

"Obviously you prefer to shame the family with your... looseness in the bedroom. It's unseemly, Draco!" Never mind it happened in an alley!

No, despite the circumstances around his child's conception, he would not allow anything or anyone to harm it. He knew the Dark frowned heavily upon bastards, but the Light... They're more forgiving.

He may not agree one hundred percent with their views, but the same could be said with the Dark. He wasn't exactly keen on the whole "if you're not with us, you're against us, and therefore must be tortured and killed in the most gruesome of ways", or the whole being branded with a slave mark by a madman. Sure, you knew pretty much exactly where you stood with the Dark Lord at all times, but the possibility of being hit with a Cruciatus or two for no apparent reason was anything but appealing.

The Order was steadfast in their beliefs that all wizard kind should be treated as equals, even bastards and half-breeds. And who knows, perhaps mud-no, if he was going to switch sides, he was going to have to stop using that word. The Light heavily frowns upon the use of it. Perhaps *muggleborns* were the unknown descendents of squibs tossed out of the oldest families that had long since died out. He wouldn't be entirely surprised if that were the truth.

000

It had been a few days since he'd decided on switching sides, and Draco was still trying to figure out who from the Order to approach about joining them. He didn't think he could convince himself to go to Professor McGonagall, not only had he provided the means for the Death Eaters to raid the school, but also put his godfather in such a position that he had to kill the headmaster for him. Professor Lupin might listen, but he could no more go to him than to professor McGonagall.

Moody was dead, Scrimgeour was interim minister, Shacklebolt and Tonks were Aurors, he could barely stand the Weasley's, and Granger set his nerves on edge. Those were most of the members of Dumbledore's little group that he knew of, though doubtless there were plenty more.

The last option was to go to Potter. But she and her two friends hadn't been at school at all this past term, and he had no clue where to even look for her. Though perhaps, he thought, looking at his magnificent owl resting on its perch in the corner of his room, he wouldn't have to do the looking.

000

Holly Potter was standing watch late that winter night while Hermione tried to get some sleep. She hadn't been quite the same since Ron had left them, and desperately needed to rest.

Suddenly she heard a screech and looked up to see a vaguely familiar owl flying directly at her. She tensed, knowing none of her friends had an owl like the one heading toward her. Who else would be sending her mail, though? Holly got her answer pretty quickly.

Malfoy? Holly thought warily once she realized where she knew the owl from.

The owl landed on a branch near where she was sitting and gazed expectantly at her. Cautiously, she stood and drew her wand. "I'm just going to scan the letter, alright?"

Seemingly sniffing like it was offended, it held it's talon out for her, as if to say, "Go on, then, what are you waiting for?"

There weren't any curses or charms or potions in or on the letter, so she went ahead and opened it. She almost wished she hadn't.

Dear Potter,

I honestly don't know what to write. We've been rivals turned enemies since we were eleven, never caring one bit about each other, but sometimes things change.

I know… let me tell you a story.

There once was a young boy who looked up to his father, wanted to be just like him. As he grew, his father told him he deserved to be treated like a prince, that people should respect him and kiss the Earth under his feet. He believed it, and when none of that happened, he was confused and upset, and he lashed out at anyone who acted contrary to what he was raised to believe. Years went by, and as the boy grew and learned more of the world around him, as his father changed and became a mere shadow of himself, the boy began to think for himself. He realised his father had been wrong about a lot of things, but he still stayed by his side until everything came to a head. One night, as the boy was doing some late Christmas shopping for a friend, he was attacked and dragged into a dark alley. His attacker was an old friend of his father, one who knew the boy's biggest secret.

The boy was a bearer, a male who could carry children as a woman could.

His father's friend knew this, and decided, in a drunken haze, to take advantage of the boy. He'd always leer at the boy whenever the boy's father wasn't looking, but he'd never made a move before.

The boy fought, but he'd dropped his wand in his haste to draw it. He still fought as hard as he could, struggling to get away, but he was overpowered. Soon after, he passed out in fear and pain.

When he awoke, the boy was alone in the alley and it was night. Realizing what had happened, and in a moment of weakness, he broke down. He tried to keep it to himself, to stay quiet in fear his father's friend was lying in wait, ready for another go, but his strangled cries drew no movement or attention. And so he cried for the first time since he was young.

One week later, he found out the full consequences of that terrible day. He was pregnant.

Potter, that boy, in case you've not figured it out, was, is, me.

Why am I telling you this? I've asked myself that countless times, and still don't have a good answer. Maybe it's because you're the only one I know of the Order who won't immediately dismiss me. Maybe it's because, despite our animosity these past six and a half years, I actually trust you. Who knows, it could be because you'd actually be willing to help. Whatever the reason, it all means nothing when met with the facts. I need help, the Dark will kill my child and then kill me if they find out. I don't care how they came into being, I will not let them, any of them, touch my child.

Please, don't dismiss this or think this is some sick joke, I swear on my magic it's not. You're honestly the only person I can think of right now.

Sincerely, your former archenemies,

Draco Cygnus Malfoy

Holly had learned a lot in the past three years. For Malfoy to have sworn on his magic, even in writing, that the contents of the letter were true… Holly had to quickly take a stomach soother potion to keep from losing the contents of stomach. No one deserved such a thing happening to them.

She knew one thing, though. Malfoy said he needed help, and there was no way she wasn't going to provide it any way she could. Not when he'd sworn to her he was telling the truth.

Looking up at the owl that delivered the letter, she nodded in determination. She'd help him, no matter what the others would say.

000

Draco wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he'd sent a letter to Potter, but a return letter warded specifically so only he could read it wasn't that high on the list. That's why he believed he was dreaming when he got exactly that.

Honestly, all the letter contained was a date and location, along with a vow that she'd come alone. Draco was rather surprised to find that in the letter. Either she was copying his own vow without really knowing the significance of it, or she did know and made the vow as a sign of trust. He didn't really care, it was valid either way, and magic would make sure she didn't go back on her word.

Draco tenderly rubbed his still-flat stomach. Perhaps now he'd have a chance to be friends with Holly Potter.

000

Two weeks later, Holly snuck away from the tent while Hermione was on watch and apparated away. She felt bad sneaking away, but if she didn't, Hermione would hold her up asking her question after question. She couldn't allow that, her magic wouldn't allow that. So she snuck away.

After a chain of almost random apparitions, she finally made it to her chosen meeting place. As she expected, Malfoy was already waiting for her, though she was somewhat surprised that he had actually come alone.

"Malfoy," she greeted neutrally, politely. She was helping him, yes, but she hadn't quite gotten over the past six years. She'd give him a chance, though. He deserved that much, at least.

"Potter, thank you for listening." Draco looked horrible, like he was barely holding it together. His eyes were slightly sunken, his skin was paler than usual, and his hair, while still expertly groomed, lacked it's shine. He took a breath and stepped forward. "I have all I need in a trunk shrunk down and resting on a chain around my neck, Potter. I'm ready when you are."

Holly nodded and extended her hand, and Draco didn't even hesitate before taking it. Holly smiled slightly, reassuring him silently. She didn't trust herself to speak at the moment. She'd likely end up making a stupid, cliched comment about how horrible he looked, and he didn't need that right now.

Draco shakily smiled back, looking tired and hopeful and fragile all at once. She apparated them both quickly away. A series of random apparitions later, and they were back at the tent site, catching Ron and Hermione right as they were taking the wards down.

"Before you cast, I can explain!"

The looks her two friends were giving her as they held Draco and herself at wandpoint told her she'd better do just that, and fast, or she wouldn't like the consequences.

000

A crying wail startled Draco from his precious sleep, jerking awake the sleeping body at his side, as well. It took him a moment to gather his wits and recognize his and his wife's room, as well as his daughter's crying.

Draco looked over at his tired wife and thought about how lucky he was to have fallen into the circumstances that lead to this. Sure, the path he'd taken to get there was rife with uncertainties and mistakes, brimming with fear and pain, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Daddy!"

Draco was shaken from his thoughts at the terrified yell.

"Hmmmhhf, you brought her into this world, you can take care of her nightmares," his dear wife, his lovely Holly, grumbled at him before she rolled over and attempted to fall back asleep. She had only been in that position for half a minute before another cry sounded.

"Momma, momma!"

Holly sighed and slowly sat up. "Come on, then. Lyra and Teddy aren't going to soothe themselves."

Draco smiled. His and Holly's relationship had been totally unexpected, utterly complicated, and completely romantic, but he wouldn't have it any other way.