25 days of Draco & Harry - Day Nine
Friday, December 9th, 2011 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lamerezouille
Title: Every French Child Is Evil
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lamerezouille
Word Count: ~680
Rating: G
Prompt: A blond child with startlingly blue eyes
Warning: (highlight for spoilers) *mpreg*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Notes: I’m French myself, so, in the name of my people, I declare no offense taken from anything stated herein.
Draco slammed the door behind him and started pacing furiously in their bedroom.
‘I cannot do this! I assure you, Potter, that there is no way in the whole wide world that I can do this!’
Draco was starting to undress, still fuming, but Harry tried to appease him even though he was a little turned on.
‘Calm down, Draco. No need to return to surnames.’
‘No need to– Are you drunk, Potter? This is the exact situation where I should be allowed to return to surnames! Have you even seen his eyes? Have you looked into them? There were evil sparks in them, Potter, I’m telling you!’
Okay, so maybe little Louis wasn’t as lively and joyful as his older sisters, and maybe he was bordering on deserving a role in these horror movies with ghost-children taking revenge, but Harry considered Draco was largely overreacting.
‘Come on, Draco, don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportions a little bit?’
‘What! Out of proportions? I’ve never seen a creepier child in my entire life! I bet even young Tom Riddle was better. At least he surely didn’t just stand around with his big creepy eyes fixed on you, not saying a word.’
They’d been to Bill and Fleur’s for dinner, had seen their littlest, for maybe one hour, and Draco behaved as if he’d been scarred by children for life. It got Harry a little bit upset, but he guessed getting upset now was not the best solution to stop Draco’s freak-out.
‘You can’t reproach him his silence. He’s got to learn two languages at once! Fleur told me that he was better at French for now and that listening intently to people speaking English helped very much.’
‘So you’re saying it’s the French thing, Potter?’ Draco asked with a relatively calmer voice. Harry considered this a good thing so he opted to agree.
‘Well…it might be?’
‘Mon Dieu, Potter! I’m part French, too! This cannot go well.’
‘Listen to yourself, Draco. Your closest French ancestor lived in the eighteenth century. How can this even be an issue?’
‘You’re the one saying every French child is evil.’
‘I never–’ Harry almost began to argue, but he knew it would be pointless. He thought he made a very good “most responsible adult in the house” and didn’t want to lose the crown. ‘Sit down, Draco,’ he said, patting the spot beside him on the bed, ‘there’s no need to–’
Harry got cut off by a sudden and quite violent pain in his belly. Draco noticed at once and quit all his pacing to kneel next to him with a concerned look. (If Harry had known it’d be that easy, he would maybe have faked it at the beginning of their conversation.)
‘There’s no need to what, Harry?’ Draco had taken Harry’s hands between his and was looking at him with very worried eyes.
Harry tried to smile and talk at the same time, but all he managed was a loud panting noise, that more or less translated to, ‘I was going to say that there’s no need to freak out, but, uh, I guess I might be wrong…’
‘Harry? What’s going on? Talk to me, Harry! Talk to me now!’ Draco was this close to grasp him by the arms and shake him, but, thank Merlin, he had more sense than that.
‘Draco, I…I think it’s…’ Harry answered in a raspy breath, still in the after-shock of the pain.
‘What?’ Draco cried. He was out-of-sorts, alarmed, and his hand was clearly itching for his wand, but he also had a sort of half-smile, and Harry knew he’d completely understood what was going on.
Draco’s smile grew a little, and it proved to Harry that Draco’s rant had been just that, and that there was nothing more serious to worry about. Despite his French-children-related freak-out, Draco was ready, and Harry had been ready for quite some time now. It was time.
Draco put his jacket back on, and Harry took him by the hand to go to St Mungo’s.
He had a baby to deliver, after all.
Author:
lamerezouilleWord Count: ~680
Rating: G
Prompt: A blond child with startlingly blue eyes
Warning: (highlight for spoilers) *mpreg*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Notes: I’m French myself, so, in the name of my people, I declare no offense taken from anything stated herein.
Draco slammed the door behind him and started pacing furiously in their bedroom.
‘I cannot do this! I assure you, Potter, that there is no way in the whole wide world that I can do this!’
Draco was starting to undress, still fuming, but Harry tried to appease him even though he was a little turned on.
‘Calm down, Draco. No need to return to surnames.’
‘No need to– Are you drunk, Potter? This is the exact situation where I should be allowed to return to surnames! Have you even seen his eyes? Have you looked into them? There were evil sparks in them, Potter, I’m telling you!’
Okay, so maybe little Louis wasn’t as lively and joyful as his older sisters, and maybe he was bordering on deserving a role in these horror movies with ghost-children taking revenge, but Harry considered Draco was largely overreacting.
‘Come on, Draco, don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportions a little bit?’
‘What! Out of proportions? I’ve never seen a creepier child in my entire life! I bet even young Tom Riddle was better. At least he surely didn’t just stand around with his big creepy eyes fixed on you, not saying a word.’
They’d been to Bill and Fleur’s for dinner, had seen their littlest, for maybe one hour, and Draco behaved as if he’d been scarred by children for life. It got Harry a little bit upset, but he guessed getting upset now was not the best solution to stop Draco’s freak-out.
‘You can’t reproach him his silence. He’s got to learn two languages at once! Fleur told me that he was better at French for now and that listening intently to people speaking English helped very much.’
‘So you’re saying it’s the French thing, Potter?’ Draco asked with a relatively calmer voice. Harry considered this a good thing so he opted to agree.
‘Well…it might be?’
‘Mon Dieu, Potter! I’m part French, too! This cannot go well.’
‘Listen to yourself, Draco. Your closest French ancestor lived in the eighteenth century. How can this even be an issue?’
‘You’re the one saying every French child is evil.’
‘I never–’ Harry almost began to argue, but he knew it would be pointless. He thought he made a very good “most responsible adult in the house” and didn’t want to lose the crown. ‘Sit down, Draco,’ he said, patting the spot beside him on the bed, ‘there’s no need to–’
Harry got cut off by a sudden and quite violent pain in his belly. Draco noticed at once and quit all his pacing to kneel next to him with a concerned look. (If Harry had known it’d be that easy, he would maybe have faked it at the beginning of their conversation.)
‘There’s no need to what, Harry?’ Draco had taken Harry’s hands between his and was looking at him with very worried eyes.
Harry tried to smile and talk at the same time, but all he managed was a loud panting noise, that more or less translated to, ‘I was going to say that there’s no need to freak out, but, uh, I guess I might be wrong…’
‘Harry? What’s going on? Talk to me, Harry! Talk to me now!’ Draco was this close to grasp him by the arms and shake him, but, thank Merlin, he had more sense than that.
‘Draco, I…I think it’s…’ Harry answered in a raspy breath, still in the after-shock of the pain.
‘What?’ Draco cried. He was out-of-sorts, alarmed, and his hand was clearly itching for his wand, but he also had a sort of half-smile, and Harry knew he’d completely understood what was going on.
Draco’s smile grew a little, and it proved to Harry that Draco’s rant had been just that, and that there was nothing more serious to worry about. Despite his French-children-related freak-out, Draco was ready, and Harry had been ready for quite some time now. It was time.
Draco put his jacket back on, and Harry took him by the hand to go to St Mungo’s.
He had a baby to deliver, after all.
These words mean something
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Date: Sunday, December 11th, 2011 02:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, December 11th, 2011 08:42 am (UTC)