Harry Potter & The Daughter of Malfoy

Chapter Two - Mood Swing

"What do you mean you're going away? What about the exams?"

"Bollocks to the exams!" Ron interrupted Hermione's spiel urgently. "What about the Quidditch Tournament? We're winning! We can't exactly win if we don't have a seeker, can we?"

Harry looked down at his stomach, which had already started to swell outward, then tried to imagine himself keeping his balance on a broom, while pregnant. All in all, it wasn't a pleasant picture, although, he would be the first to admit it looked hilarious.

"I don't have a choice," he replied glumly. "Dumbledore says I have to go. For my own protection."
Although that did raise the question of who was protecting and whom would be protected. Something told him Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't exactly be thrilled to learn that the baby concocted for her was now in the body of a seventeen year old boy.

Hell, he wasn't even thrilled about it!

When Dean had said his new robes were fitting a bit better the night before, he had simpered and acted like a bloody nancy! Then, Seamus had commented that they looked a bit tight around the middle.

Seamus, he thought smugly, wouldn't be walking straight for at least a week.

"Where is it you're going anyway?"

Harry bit his tongue.

It didn't seem like a good idea to say "I'm going on temporary maternity leave to stay at Malfoy Manor because Lucius Malfoy - the inconsiderate git - knocked me up in the potions lab and now, I'm expecting his baby."

Mention of Malfoy, knocking up, baby and potions lab were all on his list of "Things not to say" that Dumbledore had kindly provided him with, before he left the office, along with a list of "Believable explanations".

"Somewhere four star, so I can take the weight off my feet," he said hopefully. "And with a swimming pool and jacuzzi..."

Ron and Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"What? I've saved the bloody world six years in a row and looked glamorous and macho while doing it and now, when I get the chance to have a break, you don't think I should get the best winter break money can buy?"

"Um..." Wisely, Ron took several back-steps until he was safely out of range of Harry's foot. Apparently he had heard what had happened to Seamus. From Seamus, no doubt, as everyone in the school had heard.

The squeal had probably been heard on the far side of the Dark Forest.

"What Ron means is that we would feel better if we knew you were safe!" Hermione interceded quickly. "I mean, what's the point of having a jacuzzi if You-Know-Who shows up?"

Harry shrugged. "He might like it and get distracted by the bubbles."

Ron blinked, a nauseated look crossing his face. Hermione's eyes went very wide.

Harry recalled what he had just said and was suddenly struck by the rather...odd image of Voldemort in speedos.

It wasn't pleasant.

"I think you need a break, Harry," Hermione said faintly, shaking her head, as if to dislodge whatever image she had gotten lodged there.

Which basically translated to: You're starting to give us scary mental images with everything you say and its really rather disturbing so please go away and don't come near us again.

Well, that had been a lot easier than he had expected.

"So...breakfast, before I go?"

Hermione nodded, her face still screwed up as if she was trapped in a very scary and sickening visual place, possibly with Lord Voldemort as a scantily-clad pool boy with a bottle of suntan lotion and a seductive expression.

Ew.

Ron just squeaked.

Knowing Ron, he would be in the same mental place as Hermione, except with a lot more of him and Hermione shagging in the sidelines.

Not much was said on the way down to the Great Hall, apart from the occasional plaintive whimpering sound and mumbles of "but speedos...they...eurgh..." from Ron, who was starting to look green in the face.

On entry to the Great Hall, a figure that looked remarkably like Seamus - it was hard to tell since he was still doubled over - waddled out rapidly when Harry entered and made a beeline for the Slytherin table, which had so many more vile-looking foods on it than the savoury Gryffindor table.

Had to be something to do with them being the Evil House(tm).

Grabbing a handful of dried out pickled onions from the plate of a rather stunned Pansy Parkinson, Harry looked around, then spotted a dish of strawberry yoghurt and couldn't imagine anything that would taste better than the two combined.

Hermione made a choking sound as Harry started dipping the onions in the yoghurt and munching on them, licking his fingers after every one.

Really, it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted...

And everyone was staring at him as if he had just eaten his own wand.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?"

Ah...

The soon-to-be-semi-step-son.

Wonderful.

"Eating," Harry replied cheerfully, flashing a bright smile at Draco Malfoy and offering the half-full bowl of yoghurt, the blackened pickled onions bobbing on the pink surface.

Malfoy looked like he had been hit by a two-by-four.

Then a bout of seasickness.

It really was a wonderful day, Harry mused.

Good food. Good friends. Good enemies, who were currently vomiting in their good neighbour's lap. Good witty banter with said enemies, when they weren't in the process of puking their guts out.

Not so good mental images, but that was fair enough.

Everything was good.

"Are you thick in the head, Potter?" Draco spluttered, looking even more pale and pointed than usual. "You're standing at the Slytherin table! You know, Slytherin, the Dark Lord?"

"Don't see him here right now," Harry replied, still contentedly nibbling on the onions, green eyes shining with the...goodness of the day. Everything was shiny and happy and perfect. "Met him a few times. Doesn't look good in speedos."

Ron heaved.

Draco blinked, then was blessed - albeit slowly - with the same mental image and heaved too.

Slow on the uptake, Harry pondered, pity my kid and its genes, then.

My kid.

Uh...
When did it become 'my' kid?

"You're a bloody freak, Potter!"

Harry blinked at the tone in Malfoy's voice. All right, that was just rude and more than that, it wasn't nice. That wasn't very nice at all! He felt his lower lip start to tremble and his eyes brimming up.

Oh bollocks, not again!

Malfoy blinked at him. "Crying, Potter?" he sneered. "You're crying aren't you?"

"I'm bloody not!" Harry wailed, then mentally cringed. Oh crap. Even worse. He had wailed. Not just the water works. A good, full blown wail.

"Yes, you are! You're crying!" Malfoy was on his feet and pointing at the very emotionally unbalanced Harry. "Potter! You're crying like a girl!"

"Stop being so nasty to me!" Harry wanted to strangle the little hormone-monster that was making him act like a bloody girl. He wanted to answer for himself and tell Draco Malfoy where he could stick his wand, but the hormone-monster had hold of his mental controls and was
having a lot of fun.

"Did you hear that?" Malfoy laughed coldly, looking around at the other Slytherins, who took the cue and laughed along with him, although very few knew why. "Potter wants me to stop being nasty to him! Looks like he's as pathetic as his old mum and dad, after all."

Harry was shaking internally and externally with pure, white-hot anger that was flooding through his veins.

Slowly, a wide, mad grin spread on his face.

"You're in trouble now, Malfoy..."

He could feel it building up inside of him, the incredible and overpowering anger he had felt twice since he had found out he was pregnant: once with Lucius and once with Seamus. Only, this time, it was worse. Very much worse. Malfoy had mentioned his parents. The
only possible thing that came higher than that, at the moment at least, was Harry looking fat.

No one had said the 'f' word yet.

Seamus had come close to it the night before.

Seamus had also felt what it was like to have his bollocks kicked up into his throat, so he wasn't considered much of a threat anymore.

But, insulting the parents...

Oh Hell, Malfoy was in for it.

"What are you grinning at, Potter? You look like a loony," Malfoy stared at him.

Harry said nothing, his mad grin widening.

Only a little more.

The pressure was building and soon...

"Look at the Gryffindor freak! Got one for St Mungo's here!"

"DRACO MALFOY, HOW DARE YOU SAY SUCH A THING!" Harry's howl of fury echoed off the walls and ceiling, rattling cutlery on the tables and making a few people of a more nervous disposition cower under their seats.

Draco Malfoy blinked and made a sound like. "Abuh...?"

"You're filthy and wretched and loathsome little git with a father with more money than fashion-sense!" Harry let the rage take him. He was grinning like a lunatic, but he didn't care at all. This was fantastic and no one, not even Dumbledore could stop it! "You prance around, acting all hard man and you're really nothing more than an insignificant jealous little wanker who just imagines fondling MY broom at night, because you know you'll never be anywhere near as good as I am on it! And don't you even think of taking that way, Parkinson!" he pointed down at the girl, who went red, then turned his attention back to Draco, who had gone a funny shade of grey. "You're jealous cos I've met your precious Dark Lord and you haven't and I'm better on a broom and I'm better-looking and I have a nicer arse! You're just a stupid little boy and if you think that insulting somebody is funny, its only because you're too stupid to see how pathetic it makes you look and YES," He pointed at Pansy again, who had opened her mouth to speak. She clapped it shut instantly. "Parkinson, I DO know that I'm being a hypocrite, but don't you even think about interrupting or I'll humiliate you too!" Leaning across the table, Harry dumped the remaining yoghurt all over Draco's perfect blond head and finished with a cold, "And you have stupid hair."

There was a stunned silence.

A tumbleweed rolled past.

The rest of the Slytherins were staring at their snobbish, arrogant and blond Leader in astonishment. Apparently, they expected him to outdo that little tirade, in his usual biting fashion.

It wasn't about to happen.

Draco blinked dribbling strands of pink yoghurt out of his eyes. His lower lip was trembling petulantly. Grey eyes filled with tears.

Harry smirked down at him. "My work here is done," he said cheerfully, knowing that all was perfect in the world again, turning on heel and striding back off the join Hermione and Ron, who were staring at him, shell-shocked.

"Harry..." Hermione gasped.

Ron immediately grabbed Harry's hand and shook it fervently, a look of awe-struck hero-worship in his brown eyes. "That was bloody brilliant, mate. Absolutely bloody brilliant."

"But it wasn't very nice..."

"It was Malfoy, Hermione," Ron reminded her.

Gradually, a wave of laughter started, stunned and shaking, but laughter none the less. Apparently, many had wondered when the famous Harry Potter would snap and now, they had lived to witness and tell their grandchildren all about it. He just hoped it had proved
memorable enough.

Making their way to the Gryffindor table, Harry couldn't help shooting a glance back towards the Slytherin table, where Draco was sobbing like a baby into the shoulder of the uncomfortable-looking Goyle, who was sympathetically patting the smaller boy's shoulder and trying to avoid the yoghurt.

Harry gasped.

"Oh no!" he whispered.

"What is it?" Ron took a step away.

Green eyes that were rapidly filling with tears again turned to Ron. "I-I dumped my breakfast on his head!"

"Yeah, and?"

Hermione squealed when Harry wildly grabbed Ron by the front of his robes and shook him. Ron, for his part, looked utterly petrified. "It was my breakfast!" Harry wailed. "I want my breakfast!"

"Mister Potter," a calm and slightly amused voice spoke from behind him.

Harry spun and - for reasons he would later consider in humiliated detail - threw himself into Professor Snape's arms, wailing miserably. "Oh, Professor! Its horrible! I spilled my breakfast!"

What are you doing, Harry?

I'm hugging Snape.

Why are you hugging Snape, Harry?

Because he's the one who knows about this mess and he can make everything all better and...what the fu...? I mean, I'm hugging him because I'm all hormonal and pregnant, you bloody stupid internal monologue!

Yes, but do you have to hug him so tight, Harry?

Um...

And do you intend to let him breathe some time today, Harry?

Harry blinked and released Snape, who uttered a feeble gasp, before keeling over, his face a funny shade of blue.

Ron looked down at him.

"Not a bad morning, then, Harry," he remarked approvingly. "You humiliate Malfoy so much that he starts blubbing like a baby and then practically kill Snape by hugging him. What have you got in mind for an encore?"