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“I’ve decided to become an author,” Draco announced.
“Really?” Ron asked. “I never knew you were interested in writing.”
“I never thought I was,” Draco admitted. “But I haven’t been able to find any other jobs, so I thought I’d give it a try.” He ignored Harry’s frown at the mention of the blatant discrimination he still faced every day as an ex-death eater.
“What kind of book would you write?” Pansy asked.
“I was thinking I could do a children’s story book,” Draco mused. “Maybe revamp the old damsel in distress tale where she has a sordid affair with her handmaiden and together they overthrow the patriarchy and oust the prince who’s demanding she marry him.”
“That’s a lot for a children’s book,” Hermione pointed out. “You especially can’t sell things to children that describe sordid affairs. ”
Draco considered her for a moment. “Well my other thought was a new take on those books that teach about body parts.” Encouraged by Harry’s nodding, he continued. “Except instead of body parts, I could teach different facets of BDSM.”
He was not expecting his boyfriend to spit his wine out at that. Honestly, it sounded like a great idea to Draco.
“What?” he demanded angrily. “What’s wrong with my ideas for children’s books?”
“Honestly, mate, everything,” Blaise drawled. “Maybe you’re not cut out to be a children’s author.”
Draco glared at him. “I would make an excellent children’s author,” he insisted.
“Draco, those books would be great to sell to adults, but children—” Theo trailed off as Draco turned the glare on him.
“I can make incredible books for children, Theo,” he spat. “I—”
“Draco,” Harry interrupted, his tone gentle. “Why are you so intent on becoming a children’s author?”
“Why is everyone so intent on telling me I can’t? I can be good with children!”
“I’m sure you can,” Harry said kindly. “But our teasing hasn’t bothered you this much before. Why are you so upset now?”
“Because I don’t want to be a shitty father!” Draco blurted out, his hands flying up to cover his mouth as soon as the words had left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that .
He could see understanding dawning on Pansy, Theo and Ron’s expressions, but somehow Harry still seemed confused.
“I’m sure you’ll be a great father when the time comes,” Harry offered. “But we have years to prepare for something like that. I mean, we’re not even married yet!”
“Actually, we kind of only have seven months,” Draco mumbled sheepishly, surreptitiously moving his hand to cover his abdomen. This hadn’t been how he was planning to tell Harry, but he’d been so excited at the idea that he might write revolutionary books for children, and the conversation had not ended up where he’d wanted it to go at all.
!~~~~WIP CRACK~~~~!
"Merlin's goddamn man tits!"
A soft gasp sounded from the Flourish and Blotts front desk. The crowd of people waiting in line stared at Draco, open-mouthed and frozen in shock. A baby on a wizard's hip grinned and clapped chubby hands together, oblivious to its pacifier falling to the bookstore floor.
"Language!" Harry shouted, coming out from around a stack of boxed books with his hands held out.
"Bloody mother fucking piss-soaked shit biscuit!" Draco hissed through gritted teeth as he slid the bundle of blankets and sleepy wiggles into Harry's arms.
Three-dozen spectators watched as Draco arched back in his chair, tore his shirt up out of his trousers, unbuckled his belt like a horny eighth year, unbuttoned his trousers, and shoved both hands into his pants.
Draco groaned in relief as his fingernails scratched the pink line of scar tissue just above his pubic bone. Harry watched him, softly shaking his head.
"Jesus Muggleborn CHRIST," Draco moaned. His nails excoriated the healed line till the entire area was bright pink. "Gods below, that's better than sex."
A man cleared his throat, and Draco looked up, shoving his shirt back into his trousers. Two wizards stood on the other side of his table, arms linked. One rested a hand on a barely-there bump, and the other's mouth opened and shut like a beached fish.
The pregnant wizard smirked. "I assume that will be in a second book?"
"Yes, actually. Due in June," he said with a wry smirk.
Struck speechless, the man's partner wordlessly held out a copy of Draco's book. Draco picked up his quill and dutifully signed his name, adding a quick note. The incision will be your new erogenous zone. Plan accordingly.
Draco closed the book and slid it back to the wizard, but not before admiring his own book cover.
WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN YOU'RE LEAST EXPECTING
by Draco L. Malfoy
Forward by H. Potter
(who contributed very little to this whole endeavor)