Hey guys, me again. Note: I'm not affiliated with Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. Harry Potter and everything related thereof is property of J.K. Rowling, under AOL Time Warner Productions. My story makes no claim to ownership, and is purely fan fiction. I make no indication as to the sexual orientation of Dan Radcliffe or Tom Felton (who, by the way, are mega-babes.) Now that all that legal mumbo-jumbo is out of the way, chapter fifteen!

Harry had decided he would like to tell Ron of their plans before anyone else, as Ron was as close to family as Harry had left. It was then that he remembered his Aunt Petunia was staying at Grimmauld Place. He concluded he should postpone telling her just yet. Draco, on the other hand, was a silent observer in all this - he had no one to tell. He considered sending an owl to his father in Azkaban (he was sure the dementors would slip it in to him, though prisoners weren't supossed to get letters), if for no reason other than to see how angry he could make his father. He thought the words over in his head: "Dearest Father, I wish to announce to you my engagement to the love of my life, Harry Potter. Tootles!" He had smiled at this thought - his father would probably literally die of the shock. Draco thought of his mother - the harsh words she had said to him and the cold look in her eyes as she jinxed him - and was surprised to find he didn't care. So his mother and father would never speak to him again. Wasn't that what he had wanted for so long? To no longer be a Malfoy?

Draco thought all this over as he stood in the shower, warm water running over him and washing away any doubts he had had about what people at school would think. He was sure he and Harry would never be accepted at Hogwarts if everyone there knew. He considered they should only tell their close friends, but he figured Harry would tell Ron first, and Ron wasn't exactly known for his discretion - nor was Neville. Or, come to think of it, too many of Harry's friends.

As Draco was showering, Harry was getting dressed. He was thinking similar thoughts. He wanted to get downstairs and tell Ron that he was getting married. No, wait, it wasn't 'getting married'. It was...what? A commitment ceremony. What exactly does that mean? Harry concluded that it was exactly what it sounded like - a ceremony, to proclaim that he wanted to be with Draco. He thought of teachers and students at school, and wondered what it would be like. There would be staring and whispers and the occasional rude comment. People would see them holding hands. Then, a strange thought came to Harry - he and Draco would most likely both wear rings after the ceremony, wouldn't they? Harry had a thing for hands; he thought a man's hands were incredibly sexy, and Draco, perticularly, had amazing hands. He knew his hand fetish was odd, but he couldn't help but think how a small silver band would make Draco's hand look even better. He knew he would get over his classmates' opinions, and he wasn't at all nervous about being committed to Draco alone. There was just one thing he still wanted to do with his life - something he felt he needed to do. If he never got the chance to do it, he would live his life feeling as though he were a failure. He only hoped Draco would understand and approve - he wouldn't do it if Draco objected....

......As he stepped back into the room, freshly showered, shaved and dressed, Draco saw Harry sitting on the bed fiddling with a quil and a piece of parchment. He chewed on the end of the quil, as if he were thinking deeply. Harry sighed and wrote something quickly, then rolled the parchment up and crossed the room to Hedwig's cage.

"When you have time," he said, stroking her gently. She nipped his finger lovingly in response, and took another drink of water before she took flight out the open window. Harry sighed and leaned against the window sill, watching her. Draco approached him quietly, relishing in this rare moment he could watch Harry without his knowledge. He was staring out the window, and Draco suddenly recognized the feeling in the air. It was a feeling of want, emptiness, and wonder. The way Harry's gaze locked with the clouds make Draco worry for a brief second if he was going to jump. Draco didn't know that Harry, as his fingers gripped the windowsill tightly, was urged to jump by some force inside him he didn't recognize. He wanted to be free, just for a day. Harry didn't regret his coupling with Draco. But as he stood there, he thought about his past, and his future. He realized how little time he had spent with Draco. They had known eachother for six years, but had only truly known each other a few months. Harry questioned if he was ready to commit himself entirely - every day, for the rest of his life, given to someone based on the emotions of a few months. It seemed like he was throwing his life away. Harry didn't question his love for Draco. For years, he had felt something different toward him. Even when they had said terrible things to each other, Harry felt guilty for saying them. It was only recently he discovered his words had, indeed, hurt Draco's feelings, though neither of them let it on. Harry was happy being with Draco, but he couldn't help but feel the way he did. He was wondering if there was more out there. He felt, in all senses of the word, trapped.

It was then that Harry felt a soft brush across his shoulder blade, and spun around to see Draco had been standing only inches behind him, as if he had evaporated from Harry's thoughts and materialized himself. The look on his face startled Harry; it was as if Draco had been reading his thoughts.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"What?" Harry asked, struggling for the explination Draco deserved. "Nothing," he added quickly, "you...you startled me."

"Am I bothering you?" Draco asked, and Harry shook his head.

Draco studied the look on Harry's face. There was something different about his eyes. He seemed so distant. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver coin. He handed it to Harry.
"Sickle for your thoughts?" he tried.

Harry grinned slightly, then sat down on the bed. Draco sat next to him. Harry wondered how to begin what he wanted to say to Draco. He didn't want to come across as if he were blaming Draco for the way he felt. He decided, in the end, the absolute truth would do best. He focused on a flaw in the wood flooring to keep his gaze from meeting Draco's.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something," he started, "but I've been worrying about how you'd take it."

Draco nodded seriously, trying desperately to concentrate. "Okay," he said, "what is it? You can tell me anything, love. You know that, don't you?"

"Okay," Harry continued, chosing his next words very carefully, "I want to be with you. I want you to know that. This is not about you, this isn't something that's wrong with you. It's something I've wanted, all my life, for as long as I can remember. And I'm sure you've thought about it too, it's just that it's really important to me." He sighed. "There are things...certain things...that you and I can never do. Things we can never have."

Draco cut him off. "You want a family."

Harry kept his gaze on the wood floor. "Yes," he said, "very much."

Draco had never felt worse. He wanted Harry to be happy, more than anything in the world. He was willing to give Harry anything he wanted to make him happy. He'd hand over his Malfoy family inheritance, everything he owned, the clothes off his back, just to see Harry smile. This, however, was one thing Draco could never give Harry, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them thinking deeply about what to say; searching, fumbling desperately for words to console each other. Harry heard a sniffle come from next to him, then another, as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Draco's hand come up to his face and wipe at his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, and sniffled again. "I'll understand if you...if you want someone else who can give you that."

"I don't," Harry said, beginning to sniffle himself. "I was thinking, maybe one day we could find someone who..."

Draco looked at him, deeply confused. "What?"

"Muggles," Harry explained, "when Muggles can't have children, they find a woman to have one for them."

Draco stared at him like he were insane. Harry finally met his gaze, and saw the look on his face.

"Some sort of spell to knock a woman up..." Draco said oddly.

"It's not a spell, really. There are lots of ways to do it. You could go to a doctor, and they do some sort of operation, or else you could just..." Harry trailed off.

Draco stared at him for a few minutes, then began laughing. "So, we have to have sex with women when we get older, if we want children?"

Harry stared back at him.

"Eww." Draco said, not laughing anymore. "I thought you were kidding."

"We could go to one of those doctors too," Harry said.

Draco stared at him. "This is...important to you? I mean...this is something you...you really want? Children? Like, for you and I to have, as our own children?"

"Yes."

Draco's eyes narrowed and he thought as he looked at Harry. He had thought of having a family when he was younger, but had pretty much given that up when he had realized he had no attraction to women. Children were always a neutral to him - have them, or don't, he didn't really care one way or another too strongly. Although he hadn't thought about it in a long time, and never in great detail.

"Not anytime soon, though," he said questioningly.

"No," Harry said, "much later."

Draco thought again. "Who's name would they have?"

Harry stared."You want to have a daughter named Harry?" he asked.

"No," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Who's last name?"

Harry thought. To be a Malfoy would mean people would brand them as being from a Dark Arts Family. Meeting them would inspire fear amongst honest wizards, and respect among Dark wizards. To be a Potter meant always having sympathy - endless, ENDLESS sympathy. Harry wanted neither for his children. Then again, he didn't want his children to be branded as freaks, either - which is what would happen, as the children of two men. Harry was suddenly struck with panic. Children?

"Children?" he voiced out loud. "I'm - " he gulped, loosening his collar, "I'm only sixteen. Maybe we should wait for...I dunno, ten years or so to talk about this anyway."

Both boys turned toward the bedroom door as it creaked, and they saw Neville and Ginny standing outside.

"Harry," Neville studdered, "Malfoy....we weren't listening, honest. We just - "

Ginny cut him off: "Children, Harry?"

Harry crossed the room and slammed the door in their faces as he muttered, "Shove it."