The Family Way
"There's got to be a loophole!" said Harry for the thousandth time, as Hermione pored over old histories with him.
"There isn't," said Hermione shortly, slamming down the book she was reading with unnecessary force. She must really have been annoyed with him to treat a book that way. "The only person ever to get out of the Triwizard Tournament after being chosen was Mathilda Dinwiddle, and she was disqualified due to pregnancy!"
"Oh, well, I'll just go get myself knocked up, then, shall I?" said Harry sarcastically. Then his own tone of voice hit him and he deflated a little. "I'm sorry, Hermione, it's not your fault someone else entered me into a binding magical contract to get killed," he said.
Hermione's stormy expression softened and she put a hand over his. "It's all right, Harry, I really do want to help. We'll find another way."
"What d'you mean another way?" asked Harry suspiciously. "It's not like I could go out and get knocked up, even if I wanted to."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course you could, Harry, you're a wizard. All you need is a potion and a willing partner."
Harry swallowed. "Oh," was all he said, but the sick feeling of inevitability in the pit of his stomach remained.
"Magical pregnancy or near-certain death is not really the choice I'd hoped to make today," said Harry to himself, pacing around the deserted corridors. No one really came to this part of the castle, classrooms fallen into disuse and just enough off any path that it wasn't even a shortcut. The funny thing was, Harry had a feeling he was lying to himself, refusing to look too closely at the other reasons he might have for becoming a... well, for having a child.
"Just how do you think you'd achieve the former, Mr. Potter?" asked a sickeningly familiar voice. "The required potion is no more within your current grasp than the Triwizard Cup, I should think."
Harry turned to find Snape staring at him, eyes heavy-lidded and arms crossed over his chest. "I dunno, maybe there's some Ravenclaw Seventh Year who's always secretly fancied me?" he said, though it sounded pathetic and desperate even to his own ears.
Snape snorted, but he looked less disgusted than Harry would have expected, more wryly amused than anything. "Are you of that persuasion, then, Potter? You'd have to have sex with your chosen young man, you know."
Harry blushed, looking down and away, the shame of his private wank fantasies showing on his face the same as every other thought he'd ever had. "Why do you care?" he asked defensively, though he couldn't make himself meet Snape's black gaze.
"Perhaps I want a chance at being the father," said Snape with a smirk.
Harry's head shot up, mouth opening and closing in shock for a moment. "Why... Oh, you're putting me on," he said, and sighed. "It's just an idea, anyway. They'd just make me terminate it or something."
Snape rolled his eyes, much as Hermione had earlier. "Magical pregnancies cannot terminated without killing the bearer," he said. "If you were to make this choice, it would be irrevocable."
Harry sighed and looked down. "At least I'd have a family," he muttered.
Snape ignored the comment, instead pulling out his pocket watch. "What you have at the moment is five minutes until I take points for being out after curfew."
Harry bit back a curse and turned, pelting for the dorms -- he knew enough secret paths by now to get there in five minutes, but he had a feeling Snape would find a way to dock the points if he was even a minute over.
It wasn't until he was back in the dorms that he ran the surreal conversation back over in his head and tried to make sense of Snape's attitude.
Not to mention his own reactions.
Harry spent the next few days in various states of distraction.
He thought about Ron, and whether it was worse that his best friend didn't believe him, or that Harry missed the great git anyway. He wondered about the First Task, and whether or not it was going to be fatal or just really painful. He guiltily revisited the wank fantasies he'd been having that involved a lot less soft, sweet girls and a lot more lean, hard men than he was really comfortable with. He even considered the idea of being a father, of making a whole new family and how it would affect every other aspect of his life -- after all, the Dursleys were unlikely to allow a pregnant nephew into their home, nor would Harry want his child anywhere near his relatives.
But mostly, Harry thought about Snape.
He caught Snape looking at him speculatively several times over the next week, until finally Harry used the Marauder's map on Saturday afternoon to go hunting.
"I wondered when you'd come knocking," said Snape, opening the door to his quarters as though students visited him there every day. "Have you decided?"
"You weren't really offering, were you?" asked Harry, finally voicing the centre of his confusion.
Snape's eyes grew hooded and he stepped back, gesturing for Harry to enter his surprisingly cosy little parlour. "You weren't really considering fatherhood as a way out of your latest entanglement, were you?" he said dryly.
"But you hate me," said Harry, though he did go inside and look around shamelessly, taking in the comfortable-looking furniture, packed bookshelves and warm, crackling fire.
"And you hate me," said Snape, moving to the sideboard. He tapped a series of small bells there with his wand, and a few moments later a tea service appeared, complete with two cups and an assortment of fancy tea biscuits. "And yet, here you are."
"I don't think I hate you," said Harry, cocking his head to one side, trying to dredge up a name for the roil of emotions that he felt when he looked at Snape.
Snape chuckled. "I haven't hated you since I realized that you were not your father," he said, surprising Harry with his candor. "I will admit I had not actually considered you as anything other than an unnecessarily coddled problem student before this, but now..." Snape turned, and his eyes travelled over Harry's body in a rather proprietary manner. "Well, you are growing into a fine young man."
Harry swallowed, unable to reconcile the hot feeling that washed over him at Snape's look with the childish enmity he'd held for the man for so long. "But wanting to, erm, y'know, that's still not the same as making a family."
"True," said Snape, handing Harry a perfectly-made cup of tea with three of Harry's favourite ginger biscuits nestled in the saucer. "Do you think there's someone out there more suited who can both brew the potion and offer you a home in which to raise the child?"
Harry sighed, and sat down by the fire, finding the chair just as comfortable as it looked. "I can't imagine you as anyone's Dad, I mean, look how you treat Neville."
Snape sighed. "Longbottom would test anyone's patience."
"You don't treat me any better," Harry pointed out.
Snape chuckled. "Are you hoping to hear that your arse will be sufficient motivation to improve my attitude?" he asked, taking the other chair, his own cup of tea in hand.
Harry blushed and ducked his head. "Will it?" he shot back, though the very idea made things stir in places that he used to think had no business stirring for Snape.
"Of course it will," said Snape with a smirk. "It has been a very long time since I made love to anyone, and I don't think I've ever had the good fortune to lure someone as attractive as you into my bed."
"But what about, you know," said Harry, blurting it out before he could stop himself, then half-hoping Snape would misinterpret him.
Snape's face grew serious. "What, love?" he asked, and Harry could read nothing in his tone. "That, I have never had a chance at."
Harry looked down at his tea. "Me, neither," he said softly, unsure if Snape would even believe him.
Harry was surprised when Snape appeared in his field of vision, on one knee in front of his chair. "We are both well-motivated to raise a child in a loving environment, and at Hogwarts our child would never lack for babysitters to spoil him or her."
Harry swallowed. "I... I'm not naming my child something weird like Severus or Albus or, or anything like that," he said, finally admitting to himself that he'd decided on this course the moment he'd known it was possible.
The Tournament might have killed him, it was true, but even more than that a part of Harry longed for a chance to create the sort of family he'd never had. The only real question was whether or not he'd be able to figure out how.
Harry set aside his teacup and swallowed again, screwing up his courage. Snape seemed to sense what he was thinking, and Harry was spared the indignity of trying to kiss his professor when Snape's mouth rose up and met his own, lips warm and surprisingly strong.
"I know this is only the best of bad choices for you," said Snape hoarsely, long fingers stroking over Harry's cheek, "but I will do my best for all three of us."
Harry felt something unclench in his chest and this time he was the one to initiate the kiss, though Snape was the one to keep the string of them going as he pulled Harry up out of his chair and lured him into the bedroom. A part of Harry was screaming out that this was wrong, idiocy, and he'd regret it forever, but the rest of him was feeling languid and heavy with need, desire fogging up any further reasoning beyond wanting to get in the big, soft bed and give himself over to this unexpected seduction.
Being fourteen, it was the latter part that won.
Harry allowed Snape to figure everything out for him, grateful that at least one of them knew how it was all supposed to go. Snape took Harry's glasses and wand and set them gently aside; Snape removed Harry's shoes and clothes and tucked him into a bed that was the warmest, softest, most comfortable place Harry had ever been; Snape stripped himself and then proved to Harry that the bed was even more comfortable with two.
"Why's it so warm?" asked Harry shyly, between earnest kisses. He'd rather wanted to see Snape, but his glasses had gone before Snape's clothes so he settled for a vague pink shape and filling in the contours by feel, hands roaming over Snape's body curiously.
Snape returned the favour, moulding their bodies together, the feeling of all that skin against his own giving Harry little room for any thought at all. "Charmed bedclothes," said Snape, and then he nibbled his way down Harry's throat and along one collarbone, driving out of Harry's head any bad opinions he'd ever had of Snape's mouth.
"Want some," gasped Harry, though he wasn't really sure just what he wanted, anymore.
Harry was beginning to drown in sensation, gasping for air as Snape's mouth found a nipple, as Snape's fingers found his bollocks. "Christmas," said Snape shortly, in the breath between moving from one nipple to the other.
"Oh, yes," agreed Harry, though he'd already forgotten what they were talking about. "Yes, yes," he said again, as it seemed a good thing to say when a warm hand was closing over his cock, stroking deftly.
It didn't even occur to him that he might not want to come until after his world had exploded and all the parts of him had floated back to earth, to where Snape was whispering words of uncharacteristic encouragement into Harry's ear.
"Oh, I, sorry," said Harry, blushing in the dimness. "Fourteen."
"Nonsense," said Snape, licking at one finger as though it was coated in frosting and not bodily fluids. "This way you will be much more relaxed for what comes next."
"Oh," said Harry, and then, "Ohhh." His blush flamed hotter, thinking of Snape doing that to him, and his hand found Snape's cock of its own accord. When his brain caught up it was to inform him that Snape was rather more full-grown than Harry had assumed, and Harry couldn't resist playing his fingers over the length, then wrapping a hand around the girth and stroking just to hear Snape groan.
"Do you know what I need to do?" asked Snape, turning away to fumble for something in a drawer.
Harry gave Snape's cock another squeeze. "You mean besides put this in my arse?" asked Harry, a bit mystified.
"Trust me," said Snape, turning back with a small phial in hand, "your arse isn't ready for my cock."
"Is that for me?" asked Harry, reaching for the potion.
It was hard to tell in the dim light without his glasses, but Harry thought Snape might be blushing. "In a manner of speaking," he said. "I thought we might, erm, practice a bit before you take the other potion. This is lubricant."
"Oh!" said Harry. He pulled Snape down for a kiss. "Practice is good. I think we should practice before and after, in fact. In case we want another one down the line."
Snape relaxed against him, kissing back hungrily. "Lots of practice," he agreed. Several more kisses later, and Harry felt slippery fingers probing behind his balls. "Spread for me," whispered Snape hoarsely.
Harry blushed, but he did, finding Snape's voice was much sexier like this than yelling at him in class for having chopped his shrivelfigs all wrong. "What are you going to do?" asked Harry, feeling shy and wondering if he perhaps should have had a bath before he came down here, not that he'd known they'd end up like this before they did, not really, anyway.
"I'm going to put a finger inside you," said Snape, rubbing at Harry's sensitive hole, "right here."
Harry whimpered, but it felt too good to protest, so instead he made Snape kiss him again and keep kissing him all through the wicked glide of that long finger up into his body, teasing at nerves Harry hadn't known could feel this kind of good.
Harry grew hard and needy all over again as pleasure curled up his spine and shivered through his groin, the sensation different from having his cock touched but perfect all the same. "Right there," gasped Harry, when that long finger stroked something that set off sparks inside him.
Snape looked deservedly smug as he worked the finger in and out of Harry's entrance, and Harry found his body unexpectedly greedy for the touches. Harry's hips rocked up of their own accord, his arse grasped at Snape's finger when it tried to leave and he let out a whimper whenever it slid back in.
"More," Harry gasped, though he wasn't sure what he was asking for more of, precisely.
Snape obliged him anyway, the finger leaving him only to return with another beside it, two so much more than one, somehow, and yet still not enough. "Good?" asked Snape, his expression soft and a little concerned, nothing Harry had ever imagined seeing on those severe features.
"Good," managed Harry, and then he pulled Snape down for another kiss to keep from having to answer any more silly questions.
Soon even that was too much, and he threw his head back and spread his legs wider, trying to get more of that wonderful strange feeling between his legs, in a part of him he'd only just recently realized could be a source of pleasure.
"I have thought of nothing but this since we spoke," said Snape hoarsely, looking down at Harry, and when a third finger joined the other two it was less of a surprise, somehow, than those words.
Harry wanted to say something back but Snape had stolen all his words and left nothing but the sounds of pleasure in their place, so Harry gave them back to him in gasps and moans, whimpers and little hitching breaths, watching Snape's eyes glitter with desire, his face holding something that could almost be mistaken for affection, at least with Harry's glasses off.
More kisses gave Harry the excuse to close his eyes and let the sensations overtake him, though he kept just enough control not to come again. He moaned desperately when Snape's fingers left his body, only to find them replaced with something hot and strangely soft, big and insistent where it pressed against the part of him that seemed quite small, all of a sudden, though he'd been craving just this only moments ago.
"Are you sure?" asked Snape, though his hips were already pushing forward, just a little.
"Please, yes," said Harry, as much to himself as to Snape, and then Snape's cock slipped inside him and Harry could think of nothing else.
It did hurt, just a little, and then Snape pulled back out a bit before gliding in fully in one long stroke, and the pain vanished in the wake of this new pleasure. Snape's fingers had explored the sensitive places inside him, but Snape's cock hit them all at once, filling him with heat and need.
"Please," Harry whispered again, and Snape began to move, hips instead of hand, cock instead of fingers and a whole different world of pleasure. Harry mewled in an utterly embarrassing manner and clung to Snape, letting his head fall back against the pillows as Snape fucked him into the mattress.
It was wonderful.
It didn't take long for Harry to come again, the heat igniting inside him and spreading through his balls and out his cock, pleasure sweeping from tip to toe.
"God, Harry!" cried Snape, and the movement of their bodies took on a more frantic pace. Snape's hands found Harry's knees and bent him nearly in half, hooking Harry's legs up over Snape's shoulders so they could kiss for a long, sweet moment before Snape surged upward and started pounding relentlessly into him. Snape's long fingers dug into Harry's hips, giving them the extra leverage that put an extra spark at the height of each stroke that made Harry wonder who it was for, if it felt half as good to Snape as it did to him.
Harry imagined he could see the need in Snape's face when he threw his head back to drag in a breath, dim and blurred though the view was, and he let his fingers slip over a cheek and down Snape's chest, feeling the sweat-slick flesh move under his curious touch. Harry's hand made its meandering way to his own cock and he let his fingers curl around it, coaxing it back to life with a stroke that was achingly familiar in the midst of all the new sensations.
"Yesss," Snape hissed, his thrusts skipping a beat and then growing more frantic, eyes roaming from Harry's face to his busy hand, then closing as if it was all too much.
"Yes," agreed Harry, wanting to see, in his own blurry way, the same pleasure on Snape's face that Snape had been so generous with giving to Harry tonight.
"Yes, oh yes," gasped Snape, and Harry wasn't sure he could see the exact moment it happened but something changed and Snape's hips pushed forward as though there was one more millimetre of himself he could get into Harry, and something washed over Snape's face, and Harry knew he'd come.
Harry let his own hand fall away, thinking perhaps he'd want to save something for their second go, the important one with the potion, and instead he pulled Snape's head down for more kissing, not minding one bit that this meant nearly folding himself in half to have Snape down there and up here, too.
When he found himself laughing over the idea that he might ever want Snape so much as all this, Snape pulled back, looking curious. "Going to explain?" he asked dryly, though his voice still held some of that hoarse desire that sent a tingle up Harry's spine.
"I was just imagining how I'd've reacted a month ago, if anyone suggested I'd want you so much I'd bend myself in half just for another kiss," explained Harry, a little shy but determined not to hide the good bits of their relationship from either of them, knowing already that there'd be bad bits that needed making up for.
Snape chuckled. "I'm sure you will be thoroughly checked for Imperius, once it comes to light who the father is."
Harry smirked. "If we ever get around to making a baby, you mean," he teased, giving his arse a little wriggle that made Snape's cock move intriguingly inside him.
"Do you wish to take that step tonight?" asked Snape, looking satisfied when Harry nodded. "Do you need to pause?"
Harry shook his head. "Can we, y'know, just keep going?" he asked curiously, clenching his arse a little when Snape leaned over to snag a tiny crystal vial from the nightstand.
"We may, though you may decide you wish to wait after you've felt the potion's effects," said Snape, handing it to Harry.
"Drink the whole thing?" asked Harry, feeling a flutter in his stomach as he carefully removed the little crystal stopper.
"In one swallow," said Snape, eyes fixed on Harry's face now, a look of hungry anticipation on his face that surprised Harry. Perhaps Snape wanted this as much as Harry after all, whatever his reasons.
Harry drank the potion, making a face though it wasn't nearly so bad as all that, just a bit bitter. Then something inside him roiled and he made a rather different face. "Oh, I, urg, I see what you mean," he said, as a queasy sensation began to spread through his guts.
Snape pulled out without being asked and summoned a flannel, making it warm and damp with a few well-chose spells and using it to clean them both, the warm touches a soothing counterpoint to the churning nausea.
Then he surprised Harry further by laying down and gathering Harry close, one warm hand rubbing at Harry's lower back. "It won't feel like this forever, but we can wait until tomorrow if you need to," said Snape, pressing kisses to Harry's unruly hair.
"I, oh, that might be best," said Harry, curling into Snape's comforting embrace and feeling for the first time that this might not be the worst choice he could make after all.
When Harry woke the next morning, he was confused and still a bit queasy, but also warm and comfortable and languid in the way only a couple of really lovely orgasms could make him.
"How are you feeling?" asked Snape from somewhere not in the bed, and Harry fumbled his glasses on and found Snape standing in the doorway, wearing a worn bathrobe and holding a tea tray.
"Better," said Harry with a yawn. "Let me, y'know, and have a cuppa?"
"Through there," said Snape, gesturing with the tray. "There's a robe, too."
Harry slipped shyly out of bed, though of course Snape had seen all of him last night, and once he'd done his business and splashed his face with a bit of cool water, he did feel mostly better. He put on the robe, which was big on him and newer than the one Snape was wearing, and found himself smiling as he emerged.
"About normal," announced Harry, feeling anything but as he slipped into bed next to Snape, careful not to upset the tray floating off to one side.
Snape handed him a cup of tea, expression still guarded, though it seemed like he was at least trying to open up. "Is there any lingering soreness anywhere?" he asked, then blushed and added, "From the potion or, erm, the other?"
Somehow, Snape's inability to talk about it made Harry feel better, like it wasn't just him that was awkward and confused about what to do, now that it was morning. "I don't think so, well, my back's a little sore," he said, putting a hand on his lower back to show where. "My, erm, arse, seems fine, you did a good job of, y'know, getting me ready."
Emotion flitted across Snape's expression and Harry could almost see the moment he came to a decision, so he was ready when Snape leaned over and bridged the space between them with a warm, sweet kiss. "Good," he said, and then they shared another, just to be sure. Snape straightened up and said, "I could rub your back for you after breakfast."
Harry smiled, touched. "I'd like that," he said, and then he added before he could chicken out, "and after that, we'll make, y'know, again?"
"And after that, we will make love again," said Snape, amused. He tugged on the tray so they could both get to the food there, toast and marmalade, tea and fruit, and a little covered dish that proved to be hiding warm, crisp bacon.
"This is nice," said Harry shyly, after a few minutes of silent eating.
Snape looked surprised, then pleased, and he rewarded Harry with another kiss. "It is quite nice, Harry."
Harry bit his lip and asked, "What should I call you? I mean, I know in class you'll still be Professor and all that, but..."
"But you shouldn't be calling me Professor in here unless you want to play naughty student getting a very special detention," said Snape, his voice sexy and teasing. "Severus will be fine when we're alone."
Harry grinned impishly and said, "Yes, Severus," in a syrupy-sweet tone.
Snape laughed. "Brat," he said affectionately, kissing Harry warmly. "Now eat up, I want to have you sooner rather than later, so you have time to rest before lunch."
Harry's eyes went wide and he kissed Snape again, then dug into his food, finding that once he started eating properly, the last of the nausea faded away. Soon enough there were more kisses being exchanged than food being eaten, so Harry finished up his tea and stretched.
"You said you'd rub my back a bit first?" Harry asked hopefully, as he watched Snape do the same, admiring the play of muscles in his chest where the robed gaped open.
Snape smiled. "Of course," he said, spelling away any stray crumbs in the bed. "Strip off and lay on your front, and I'll get rid of this." He gave the tray a nudge and it slid off the bed entirely to float next to it, then Snape grinned and climbed out of bed right over Harry with a great deal of gratuitous kissing and fondling.
Harry loved it.
He used the opportunity to do some exploring of his own, opening Snape's robe even further and taking peeks between kisses. Snape was pale and slender, skin smooth but for the scars that marred it here and there, more than Harry wanted to think about, really. So instead he concentrated on Snape's cock, thick and purple and ugly with hairy, heavy bollocks hanging below, just the thing for putting in Harry's arse or perhaps his mouth one of these days.
Not today, though, as eventually Snape moved off him and, robe still hanging enticingly open, left with the breakfast tray. Harry stripped out of his own robe and set his glasses aside, feeling Snape had given him enough of a view today already.
The warmth and comfort of Snape's bed had nearly lulled Harry back to sleep when Snape returned, bearing a small stack of fluffy towels and a cruet of what Harry supposed must be oil, and hoped wasn't salad dressing.
"It's massage oil," said Snape, seeing Harry's expression.
Harry chuckled. "Just making sure," he said, laying his head on his hands. "Everything's pretty much settled down except the backache."
"Good, then I won't mind stirring you up a bit, once that's taken care of," said Snape with a smirk. He cast a warming charm on the oil, then got his hands covered in it, rubbing them together sensually. They were almost hot when he laid them against Harry's lower back and pressed, fingers finding just the right spot and working out the knots.
Harry moaned and melted into the bed just a bit.
Snape's hands kept working, not just his achy lower back but all the way up to his neck and shoulders, and then back down, getting the aching places again to banish any lingering tension before rubbing the hot oil over and between Harry's arse cheeks. "It's safe for this, too," said Snape, slipping a finger into him.
Harry moaned and spread his legs, too relaxed to do much more just yet. Snape chuckled, "I've finally found how to render you speechless," he teased, one finger rubbing inside Harry while the other worked the last little bits of remaining ache out of Harry's lower back.
Soon enough one finger became two and then three, and Harry had arched up to his knees, though his head was still pillowed on his folded arms, and he felt wanton and shameless with Snape right behind him, looking at all his private places.
"Are you ready for me, Harry?" asked Snape, teasing his soft cockhead against Harry's entrance. "I want you to ask me for it," he added, voice rough with desire, low and needy.
Harry whimpered, but he already knew he would, though a part of him was already making plans to force Snape to do something equally, humiliatingly sexy. "Please," said Harry, his voice breathless and hips pushing back, trying to coax Snape inside. "Please, I want you to have me, Severus."
Snape growled, actually growled as he pushed forward, hands moving to Harry's hips as he sank to the hilt into Harry's arse. Harry moaned and pushed right back until there wasn't a millimetre of space between them, and then Harry clenched tight just to feel how big and good Snape's cock really was.
"Merlin, Harry, I have you now, you're mine!" Snape's hips drew back with agonising slowness and then snapped forward, driving him into Harry and pushing Harry's face into the pillows.
"Yours," said Harry, shifting just enough he could breathe easily, then bracing himself so Snape could pound into him all he wanted. Between the massage and the pleasure spreading through Harry from his arse, Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't want to move at all for another several days, but he didn't mind one bit. He thought idly about reaching under himself to stroke his own cock, but the glide of Snape's cock over and over that spark inside him was enough for now.
Snape's hands tightened on Harry's oil-slick skin, and Harry roused himself enough to help, pushing back against Snape's cock at the height of each thrust, their bodies colliding in the middle with a feeling that tingled all through him. He didn't think he'd even need to touch his cock at this rate, already feeling the sensations deep in his bollocks that presaged a really good orgasm.
Harry shifted just a little, changing the angle enough that Snape's cock pressed against the thrilling place inside him on the full length of each stroke. A bare dozen thrusts later and that was all it took, Harry cried out and came all over Snape's nice warm sheets, shuddering and bucking under Snape's hands.
Harry had barely finished when Snape cried out his name and gave one last, deep thrust, then pumped his hips in tiny jerks against Harry's arse as he spilled inside.
Harry was glad he was already collapsed against the bed when he felt something inside him, a flare of magical warmth that made him tingle in an entirely different way. "I think," he said, and then he had to clear a throat gone dry from moaning, "I think I'm pregnant."
Snape pulled out carefully and cast a couple of cleaning spells, then gathered Harry into his arms. "The literature suggests that the man will be able to feel the spark of life within him," said Snape, sounding equally hoarse. "I believe we have made you ineligible for the Tournament."
"Oh, bollocks," said Harry, pulling him down for a kiss. "We've made a baby, is what we've made."
Snape blinked down at him, then kissed him again much more fiercely. Harry could feel the possessiveness, and he wondered if wizards, who could obviously knock each other up, could also get married and have a family the way other people could, afterward.
"You're mine now, aren't you?" asked Snape, echoing a ghost of Harry's thoughts.
Harry nodded, swallowing, then kissed Snape again. "A-and you're mine?"
"We are each other's," said Snape, "and soon, a family." One warm hand came to rest on Harry's belly just where the warmth lingered from that earlier spark.
"Yeah," said Harry, putting his own hand over Snape's and kissing him again and again. "We are."
When Harry stood before the panel of judges, it was with an antique engagement ring on his finger and Snape standing proudly -- if nervously -- beside him.
"Why have you called this meeting, Mr. Potter?" asked Mr. Crouch officiously. "We have already told you that your ill-advised entry into this Tournament is a binding magical contract."
"I can't in good conscience participate in the Triwizard Tournament ," said Harry, words he'd practiced with Snape until he could say them under the most trying of circumstances. "I am with child."
Harry almost grinned at the looks of blank shock that spread over every face in the room, from Ministry Officials to Hogwarts faculty. Except for Dumbledore, who looked completely at ease with the news, even though Harry and Snape had elected not to tell him in advance.
It was Karkaroff that recovered first. "Such an outlandish claim will have to be proven," he said darkly.
"Nonsense, you can't be very far along, you'll just have to terminate," said Bagman irritably.
Harry's hand and moved to cup his belly protectively, and he shot Bagman a murderous glare. "I will be keeping my child," said Harry. He was pleased to see that Madam Maxime looked rather shocked at the suggestion as well.
"Magical pregnancies cannot be terminated without killing the bearer," said Snape. He sounded understandably smug, his own beringed hand moving up to Harry's shoulder. "There is precedent; Mathilda Dinwiddle was disqualified in 1734 for being pregnant."
"That, too, will have to be verified, though it does sound familiar," said Crouch. "Regardless, Harry will have to be examined by a neutral party-"
"I will be taking care of Harry during this time," said Madam Pomfrey, in a tone that dared any of them to contradict her.
Harry smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way, thank you."
She looked pleased and proud at that, though she shot Snape a look that promised later words.
"Why don't I take Harry up to the infirmary now, and you can all argue about the other nonsense while I take care of him," said Madam Pomfrey, in her element now as she gently extricated Harry from Snape and shooed him toward the door.
"I will stay and advocate for you, my Harry," said Snape. The smug look on his face told Harry that he was enjoying the drama to the hilt, so Harry stopped to kiss him on the cheek before letting Madam Pomfrey escort him out.
The looks on everyone's faces were well worth the trouble he'd get later.
By the time Harry emerged from the embarrassingly thorough examination, word had filtered through the school, enough that he was glad he'd taken the time to warn Hermione and, through her, Ron.
"You are successfully disqualified," said Snape, waiting just outside the privacy screen in the infirmary. "Bagman has demanded a wedding invitation," he added, sounding amused.
"So now the challenge is to not kill each other, or let V- erm, You Know Who do it, before our baby has her happy childhood," said Harry teasingly.
"Her?" said Snape, one eyebrow going up.
Harry blushed. "I think so, yeah, but I could be wrong. Madam Pomfrey says men often know really early, though."
Snape nodded. "Her it is, then," he said. He glanced around and then pulled Harry into the sweetest kiss they'd shared yet. "Our daughter will be a terror to all the young men."
Harry laughed. "She will. And we'll have to figure out some way to convince her not to follow in either of our footsteps."
Snape laughed with him, and Harry thought that he could get used to hearing the sound of their mingled happiness, in whatever form it took.
He was happy he'd get the chance, now.
Title: The Family Way