A Priceless Gift

Chapter 8

Their announcement dinner had gone like clockwork. Everyone was over the moon for Harry and Draco and full of admiration for Hermione. Much to their amusement, by the end of the night, Mrs Weasley had knitted them eighteen pairs of baby booties in an array of colours, leading Draco to question how many feet she expected their child to have.

It was now Monday morning and Draco was sitting in a staff conference at his law firm trying desperately to pretend he didn't feel like barfing all over the conference table and hoping the look on his face somewhat resembled attentiveness.

The senior partner sitting to Draco's left smelt like he had upended an entire bottle of Calvin Klein Be on himself that morning and Draco had to fight not to reach up and slap his hand over his nose to drown out the smell. He gulped, trying to swallow down some of the nausea.

"Do you concur, Draco?" the senior partner sitting across the table asked Draco and Draco blinked in surprise.

"Erm, yes...?" Draco said tentatively, hoping it was the right answer.

"I thought you wanted to settle out of court on the Davidson matter," Draco's colleague commented with a surprised look on her face.

"I do," Draco said and felt his stomach roil in warning. Oh fuck, not now! Draco thought. Please! I'll never make another negative comment against Harry's clothes again!

"But you just..." she began and then trailed off. "Are you alright, Draco?"

Draco sprung out of his seat with his hand clamped desperately over his mouth, turned, and raced top-speed down the corridor to the Men's Room without excusing himself from the meeting. I hope I don't get in the shit for that, Draco thought as he leaned over one of the toilets, resting one arm on the cistern and holding his hair out of his face with his other hand whilst trying to remain standing. It wouldn't do to be kneeling on a public bathroom floor in an Armani suit, and puke in one's hair was just too unbearable to think about. He heard the Men's Room door swing open behind him as his stomach clenched with a noisy retch and vomit poured out of his mouth and splattered into the bowl.

"Are you alright, Draco?"

Draco only managed to groan in response when he heard that it was his boss that had come to check on him. Do I sound alright? Why me? Draco thought in annoyance. It was never good to show weakness to anyone in the workplace, least of all his boss! I may as well kiss that promotion goodbye after this, he thought. "Yes, s -" Draco said quickly before being more liquid surged it's way up his throat with a heave and cut off his answer.

"You know, even the best lawyers in Britain have sick days, Draco," his boss said with a hint of amusement in his voice. Oh great, Draco thought. Now he's laughing at my expense. Fucking brilliant. "And we've worked together for some years now; I am quite comfortable with you calling me Bill." More amusement. Draco sighed and wished Bill would fuck off back to the staff conference and leave him to throw up in peace.

Draco actually really liked his boss and admired him for his work. However, Draco's work was always top standard and he rarely required one-on-one interaction with his boss. So Draco would have preferred this little chat to not be through a toilet stall door while his bloody stomach was trying to evacuate through his throat.

"Would you like me to call your boyfriend to come pick you up?" Bill offered and Draco made a small pained noise. He quickly wiped his mouth on some toilet paper with a shaky hand and flushed the toilet before taking a deep breath to face the music.

Draco pushed open the door and stepped out. "No thank you, Bill," Draco intoned with weak a smile. "Harry is at university today and I am feeling better now. I apologise for leaving the meeting unexcused." Bill chuckled.

"It is not necessary to apologise for that," Bill assured him. Draco's stomach churned again and he braced himself on the sink and took a few deep breaths. This really had to stop. From not throwing up in about four years to more times in a fortnight than he could count was just ridiculous. "It is obvious you are unwell. You should go home and lie down."

"I'm fine, sir," Draco insisted. "I have a meeting with Miss Swinton at three o'clock that I can't miss." Draco bent over the sink to rinse his mouth out.

"You don't look fine, Draco. You look about ready to pass out. I'm going to have to insist that you go home. You aren't going to do yourself any favours by staying. Michael and I can see to your cases today; go home and rest. That's not a request," Bill said firmly and ushered Draco out of the bathroom. "And don't bother trying to smuggle any work home. Gracie will be under strict orders to severely punish you if you try." Draco cursed inwardly and stalked down the hall to his office to collect his briefcase.

o o o o o

Harry unlocked the front door with his keys and shuffled inside with a long sigh. It felt good to be home. He had been in theory sessions at university all day and his head and hand was aching from taking so many notes. He hoped Draco hadn't taken the last of the headache potion without replacing it again. He quickly glanced at the clock and realised that Draco wouldn't be home for another four hours or so, so Harry decided to grab a beer from the fridge and sit in front of the television for awhile to relax.

Harry kicked off his shoes and padded through the house to the living room. He jumped in surprise when he found Draco huddled on the couch in his bathrobe watching television and eating what looked to be a tomato sauce sandwich.

"What are you doing home, baby?" Harry asked as he leaned over and gave Draco a kiss. Yep, it was a tomato sauce sandwich; Harry screwed his nose up at this. "You not well?" He laid his hand across Draco's forehead, but there was no fever.

"I wasn't feeling well at work this morning so my boss sent me home," Draco grumbled. "I'm fine though. I only felt sick for a short time. I should be at work. I have shit loads to do!"

"You must've been pretty sick for him to send you home then," Harry commented as he watched Draco finished the sandwich. Draco gave a noncommittal shrug. "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm alright now," Draco told him with a smile.

"Why did you just eat a tomato sauce sandwich?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"I was hungry," Draco explained. "I didn't want to cut the ham up, I guess."

"There's loads of other things in the fridge!" Harry argued.

"This was easy." Draco shrugged again.

"You're moping. A day off isn't going to hurt you." Harry smirked.

"This isn't moping; this is boredom," Draco corrected with a sniff. Harry got up and retrieved something from their study and came back and handed it to Draco.

"There," Harry said. "That should keep you occupied for a short time." Draco looked down at the book's title: Top 1000 Baby Names for Your New Little Boy or Girl

"Isn't it a little early for that?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow. "I was kind of hoping for something unique, anyway."

"I'm not calling my child Xavier, or Winthorpe, or Constantine or something pretentious like that," Harry scoffed.

"I said unique, not scary. Winthorpe?" Draco snorted as he flicked through the book. "Emmeline, that's nice." Harry pulled a face. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing!" Harry said and threw up his hands. "I just... the baby will have to eventually learn how to write his or her name. Don't you think the least letters the better?"

"How do you think of things like this?" Draco laughed. Harry scowled and looked at the page Draco had opened.

"Skye is nice," Harry suggested.

"Yes, for a blue thing covering the earth, not my baby daughter," Draco said haughtily. "Oh my god..." Draco gasped and looked at Harry with wide eyes.

"What?" Harry asked frantically.

"What if we have a girl, Harry?" Draco cried in panic. "We're guys! What do we know about bringing up a little girl? I don't know how to braid hair or play with dolls! What are we going to do?" Harry chuckled and pulled the book from Draco's lap before giving him a hug.

"We'll learn," Harry said simply. "What do we know about bringing up a boy, anyway?"

"Well, at least we have the same... equipment," Draco mumbled and Harry laughed.

"We have ages to think about all this anyway," Harry said lightly. "Do you fancy going out for a drink or something? Dinner?"

"Sounds good," Draco agreed. "But my boss thinks I'm sick. What if a colleague sees me?" Harry stood up and held his hand out to help Draco off the couch.

"You told him you were fine, but he insisted you leave anyway," Harry reminded him. "No one will care."

"Let's go for Chinese then," Draco suggested. "We haven't had that in ages. I have the taste for Sweet and Sour Chicken."

o o o o o

"Mmm, thi' ith goo'," Draco mumbled around a mouthful of sweet and sour chicken. Harry snorted and shook his head, wondering what the hell had gotten into his boyfriend recently. Draco never spoke with his mouth full and he never ate at a pace that suggested he hadn't been fed in a month.

"Fred and George called me today, baby," Harry said and Draco raised his eyebrows to indicate to Harry that he was listening even though he continued to devour the rice dish before him. "They said that - quote unquote - 'the Weasley men' want to take us out for a drink tomorrow night to 'celebrate impending fatherhood'. Minus Ron, of course. Fred said they couldn't believe what a wanker his little brother had been with this whole thing and served him right for missing a night of boozing."

Draco finished his current mouthful and took a long gulp of his wine. "I can't tomorrow, love. I'm sorry. I have to prepare for a case that's up in court on Wednesday. I'm already behind from being off sick today and the clients I'm representing are coming in to see me tomorrow; I'll have to work all night tomorrow night to catch up and be ready," he explained and felt guilty at the crestfallen look on Harry's face.

"Ok," Harry sighed and went back to his own meal in silence. "I'll call them and tell them we can't make it."

"You should still go!" Draco insisted. "Go out, have a few drinks, and enjoy yourself. You've been studying hard lately; you deserve it."

"It's not the same without you," Harry muttered and teased a piece of beef around his plate with his fork.

"You mean it's not the same when I'm not there to drag your drunken arse home while you obliviously puke all over my five hundred pound designer shoes?" Draco drawled with a smirk, which disappeared when Harry just gave him a blank look. "Babe, I'm sorry. You know I would come if I had even the slightest chance of getting the work done at another time. This is important for the -"

"The promotion," Harry cut in. "Yes, I know," he said morosely. "Are you getting dessert?" Draco wasn't stupid to press the conversation because that was Harry's subtle way of ending that conversation.

o o o o o

Harry had been subdued for the rest of the night. He wasn't in a bad mood; he just wasn't in a good mood either. Draco attempted many times to cheer Harry up but he never got much more than a chuckle or a small smile from his boyfriend.

Draco felt terrible. He had always thought Harry didn't mind his long working hours, but many comments from his boyfriend recently reflected a different feeling. He didn't think Harry was so much feeling neglected as just yearning for more time with Draco. Well, at least he hoped that was all it was.

Draco sat up in bed waiting for Harry to join him. He heard the toilet in their en suite flush a few moments before Harry emerged in his bathrobe. He padded over to the bed and dropped the bathrobe on the floor revealing his naked body to a highly-anticipating Draco, who was as equally naked as his boyfriend.

Harry slid in between the sheets and cuddled up against Draco's side with a small sigh and closed his eyes. "I love you, Harry," Draco murmured and Harry's green eyes twinkled for a moment.

"I love you," Harry whispered before moving down the bed to nuzzle Draco's stomach.

Ok, so, maybe Harry wasn't as upset as Draco thought. "I didn't -"

"Shush," Harry demanded, pushing Draco's legs further apart and settling himself on his stomach between them. "No talking... just feeling..." Ok, Draco thought, so, he's in one of those feely mood things he does when he is upset with something I've done, but not angry at me.

Draco laid back and tried to enjoy Harry's ministrations, but couldn't eradicate that prick of guilt in his gut.

- SEXUAL CONTENT CENSORED -

Afters a few moments, Harry sat up and flopped onto his side and Draco immediately scrambled into a sitting position and examined Harry's thighs. "Oh fuck! I drew blood! I'm so sorry, baby!" Draco panicked and grabbed half a box of tissues and started dabbing at the small drops of blood on Harry's thighs.

"Ow, shit! Draco, its ok!" Harry stopped Draco's frantic rubbing by taking hold of his wrist. "It's not like you haven't gotten a little overenthusiastic during sex before, love. We both have." Harry smirked and took the tissues off Draco.

"But blood, Harry! I've never done that before!" Draco argued.

"I can survive a few scratches! It just stings a bit, don't worry." Harry gave him a kiss. "I'm going to the toilet. Are you alright to clean up our mess?"

Draco gave him a strange look. "Oh, um, let me see? Jeez, I don't know, Harry. Waving my wand is awfully hard work, I don't think I can manage," Draco said sarcastically as he took his wand and with a delicate flick of his wrist, all evidence of their lovemaking was gone, save for the rumpled bed clothes and ten crescent-shaped bloody marks on Harry's thighs.

"Remind me next time to shag you harder. I mustn't have done a good enough job this time because you're still talking," Harry said dryly and turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.