This is, as stated in the summary, entirely plotless. I wrote a oneshot a while ago called Absolute in which Harry and Draco (already in a relationship) are going through the process of...making a baby...it is NOT mpreg *shudders* but they are daddies, nonetheless. Please read that one first (it's really short). I plan to keep writing bits and pieces to this story just because it makes me happy. Maybe someday I'll write a multi chapter from Absolute!verse. Until then, please enjoy the bits and pieces that I do write for it.

Thank you so much for reading and, as usual, tons of thanks to my awesome HPDM beta, bookjunkie1975.

~oOo~

"Please don't make me," Draco begs with nothing but honest, terrified sincerity. "I'll do anything. Anything at all. I'll cook dinner for a month."

"That would be a punishment for me," Harry replies. "Now come on. You'll have to do it some time."

"That's not true. There are people who specialise in this sort of thing, you know? People who you, the beloved Saviour of the Wizarding World, are putting out of a job." Draco is grasping at straws, scrambling to grab hold of anything he can find to lay a thick guilt trip on Harry. He's done his best to compromise over the years they've been together, meeting Harry halfway—sometimes a bit less—but, by Merlin, he is still a Malfoy and therefore has to keep some amount of dignity intact.

Harry turns toward him, eyebrows drawn down in what Draco knows is meant to be a threatening manner, but it is completely at odds with the gentle way he is cradling the small pink bundle in his arms. Draco considers pointing this out, but quickly thinks better of it.

Harry grabs Draco's wrist and begins to tug him down the hall.

"If I can do it, certainly you can."

"I wholeheartedly disagree with that. There are dozens of things you can do that I can't. Cook, for example, wear red, vanquish dark lords." He's nearly stuttering now as they reach the nursery door.

Harry pauses, casting an amused glance over his shoulder. "Please tell me you didn't just compare dark lord vanquishing to changing a nappy."

Draco swallows hard but says nothing and allows himself to be led through the doorway.

The room is cheerfully bright, pale pinks and greens adorning every surface, sheer curtains allowing rays of sunlight through. Draco can't help but compare it to an image of birds chirping on a warm spring day as he is marched to the gallows.

"It's been three weeks and you haven't changed a single one."

"Well, that should tell you something," he replies as Harry crosses the room and places their daughter on the changing table surface. With one hand on her tiny stomach, he moves about the area gathering the necessary equipment for the horrendous task.

Reluctantly, Draco crosses the room and stands beside him. "My mother has offered to do these things for us," he says as he peeks over Harry's shoulder. "She even said she'll come live here for a few months to help out. You know how much she loves Evelyn."

"Draco," Harry sighs and shakes his head, "I love you, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I'd rather spend a week with a Blast-Ended Skrewt down my pants than live with your mother." Harry stands aside, allowing Draco to step up beside the changing table.

"There has to be a way to do this with magic," Draco insists as he begins sifting through spells in his head.

"Don't you dare," Harry says, reaching into Draco's pocket and extracting his wand. "I'll just hold this for now."

Draco considers snidely retorting that it won't be the first time, but he thinks that will probably hurt Harry which isn't his intention. Besides, that would surely cause an argument of epic proportions and Draco doesn't fancy not being allowed to touch Harry for a week while he calms down.

"Uncle Harry," a small voice calls from the doorway. "When will my mum be here?" Harry, for reasons that Draco could not begin to fathom, had volunteered to babysit Granger and Weasley's four-year-old son three days per week.

"Shouldn't be long now, Alex. Are you getting hungry?"

"Yes. My tummy grumbled."

"Oh, I'd better go take care of that," Draco says as he attempts to move away from the changing table.

"Not a chance." Harry grips his shoulders moving him back into place. "I can handle Alex, you take care of Evie."

Draco looks at Harry in horror. "You're leaving me alone to do this?"

"I'll be right back," Harry assures him. "Just get her cleaned up with these," he taps the top of a box, "and I'll be back to walk you through how to put the clean nappy on her." He leaves the room before Draco has the chance to protest further.

Draco blows out a puff of air and wrinkles his nose as he looks down at his daughter. She blinks her soft grey eyes, her hands curled into tiny fists beside her head. Not for the first time in the past few weeks, he finds himself wondering how something so tiny, so amazing and beautiful, could possible emit such a foul odour.

Alex peeks over the side of the changing table, wrinkling his barely visible nose. "Sure smells bad in here," he says, casting his gaze up toward Draco.

"Well, it isn't me," Draco replies as he begins to separate moist wipes from one another and line them up on the worktop. Evie's lips form a tiny "o" as she stretches her little legs, her dark hair standing out every which way and concealing the small blue bow that Draco is certain he saw her wearing this morning. He turns the top of the baby powder container, putting it beside the nappy Harry set out. Everything is out and ready, lined up and waiting for him to begin, but Draco is still stalling, hoping beyond all reason that Harry will come in at any moment and finish the task Draco has yet to start.

"Hero my arse," Draco murmurs as he carefully unfastens one side of the baby's nappy. He's almost certain he can actually see the rancid fumes rising up in front of him. Draco does nothing to conceal the dry heave that causes his eyes to roll up into his head.

"My arse, too," Alex mumbles through the face full of teddy bear he's using to block out the smell.

"Watch your language," Draco admonishes, snatching the plush toy away from the child and shoving it over his own mouth and nose. He breathes in deeply, grateful for the smell of daffodils and baby powder that always seem to linger in his daughter's room, clinging to everything from clothing to teddy bears.

Alex has his jumper pulled up over his nose now as he continues to watch with great interest. "What do you do now?" he asks.

Draco sighs. "Now is the part where I consider divorce."

Alex hands him a wipe. "I'll help you," he says, picking up another in preparation of passing it to Draco.

"I have a better idea," Draco says. "Since we both know what an excellent helper you are, how about I let you do this part?"

"No way!" Alex shakes his head to emphasise his point, shaggy Weasley-red hair flying about his face.

"I'll give you two galleons." Alex takes two steps back. "Three," Draco says, desperate now.

When Harry finally enters the room just a few short minutes later, Draco and Alex are quite a sight to behold. Stuffed animals pressed to their faces, tied on by pink and yellow and green crib sheets with their eyes barely visible. Their sleeves are rolled up to their elbows, hands and arms covered in powder.

Harry crosses the room slowly, taking the soiled nappy and disposing of it in the odd Muggle contraption that Granger had purchased for them, insisting that it was better than simply vanishing the disgusting things because who knew where they ended up in those cases. He looks from Evie to Draco and back again, his eyes wide with shock.

"You actually did it," he says, as though he's genuinely amazed. "I really didn't think you would."

Draco's eyes narrow as he unties his impromptu gasmask and drops it to the floor. "I didn't realise I had the option not to," he replies coolly.

"You didn't," Harry responds before pulling Draco into his arms and kissing him tenderly. Draco considers resisting, but as usual, Harry's lips feel too damn good. And besides, if he doesn't act like the stubborn arse that he knows himself to be, he's almost certain Harry will convey his gratitude in other, more pleasurable ways later tonight.

"I've made a sandwich for you, Alex," Harry says, breaking their kiss but still staring intently into Draco's no-longer-angry eyes. "It's at the kitchen table waiting."

Alex wrinkles his nose as he removes his own teddy bear mask. "I don't think I'm hungry anymore. Too much gross stuff here," he says looking from Harry and Draco to the Muggle nappy contraption.

Draco can't say that he blames him. He picks up the baby and removes his wand from Harry's pocket, casting numerous deodorisation spells throughout the room as they exit.