Title: Sex Education
Rating: Soft R
Summary: With the war a distant memory and their grievances long buried, Harry and Draco lead a happy life together. Until Minerva decides the students of Hogwarts need sex education, and Draco and Harry are just the professors to provide it.
Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship, EWE, MPreg,
Total word count: ~3,500
Original prompt request number: 10
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Written for prompt 10 of the Back to School round at hd_inspired. I hope you enjoy this, gin_biscuit, and it lives up to your request. Thank you, as always, to my lovely betas for the hand-holding and moral support, and not laughing too much over the uninventive title, or when I cried over there being no porn *G*
Betas: potion_lady, Belinda and the_flic.
Tensing his jaw to stifle a yawn, Harry applauded politely when Professor Binns sat down after his hour-long monologue on the teaching of History of Magic. Staff meetings were boring enough without the old ghost droning on about the importance of goblin rebellions to the educations of today's youth. Add to the fact he'd been sleeping badly, and he was stunned he'd managed to stay awake at all.
Turning his head, Harry grinned at the glazed look on his lover's face – Draco was clapping, but his expression said quite plainly that he hadn't heard a word that had been said since Headmistress McGonagall introduced Professor Binns' agenda point an hour ago.
"Thank you, Professor Binns," Minerva said, her clipped tone hiding the look in her eyes that spoke of regret for letting him address the agenda point himself, "that was very enlightening. Now, the final item on the agenda for this week is the introduction of sex education. After Professor Malfoy caught our third couple this term enjoying themselves out of hours, it is apparent that we need to educate the students to avoid any untoward situations arising."
"Arising in untoward situations is practically written into the DNA of teenage boys," Draco whispered salaciously, and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
"After discussion with the Board of Governors," Minerva continued, her sharp glare telling Harry that Draco's comment had not gone unnoticed, "I have decided that we are to implement a programme of sex education for our fourth years and above. The teachers giving these talks will speak to fourth and fifth, and sixth and seventh years as two groups, and we will split up boys and girls. In the next academic year, we will begin giving sex education to the fourth years; with the option for students from older years to attend if they so wish. I have obtained relevant books and materials for the teachers to prepare from. Madam Hooch and Mrs Weasley will tutor the girls, and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter will tutor the boys. These staff appointments have been chosen due to the youth of the staff – it will be easier for the students to identify with you."
Harry gaped at McGonagall, a little confused as to why he was suddenly doing something so uncomfortable without having been warned. "Minerva, are you sure about the appointment of…"
"Quite sure, Professor Potter. Is there a problem?"
Shrinking under her steely gaze, Harry shook his head. "No, not at all."
"Good. Then, this week's meeting is adjourned. Good night, everyone."
Accepting the two piles of parchment that Minerva levitated over to him, Harry stood up and led an equally stunned Draco out of the staffroom and towards the first floor east corridor, where all the staff quarters were located. Their guardian portrait – a normally chirpy, slightly irritating young woman spilling out of her bodice as she mopped the floor of the painting – obviously read their expressions and decided tonight was not a night to flirt with them before opening. She swung forwards obediently, and Harry waited while Draco went through the hole first, cursing as he tripped over when he went through himself. He'd really thought he'd grown out of his clumsiness, but that was the third time today he'd stumbled and almost fallen.
"Harry… what the hell just happened?"
"We got assigned to sex ed."
Draco paled, hand moving out and Summoning a whisky bottle and two large tumblers as he murmured, "Oh dear Merlin."
"He can’t put it in there, it'll fall off!" Draco squawked in drunken outrage, setting Harry off giggling as they peered at the pictures that had come with their information packs. Harry had been impressed that same-sex relationships were so well represented, and the curriculum they would discuss actually looked quite useful and informative. As long as he and Draco could get their giggling out of the way now, while they were drunk and in bed, they'd be fine in front of the students.
Or so Harry hoped.
"Eeew, look at this one, he's got dick-rot!"
"We should tell them that's what happens if you sleep with girls!" Harry chirped, wincing in sympathy at the pictures that accompanied the sexually transmitted diseases section.
"Turn the whole year gay!"
"A gay army!"
That made Draco laugh so hard he toppled side ways, and Harry pushed the papers and parchment off the bed as he crawled clumsily up Draco's body. "Got to practice. Can't lecture if we don't practice."
Draco nodded enthusiastically, and the last thing Harry was aware of before he lost himself in his lover was the empty whisky bottle thunking to the floor.
Staggering into the kitchen, Harry could still taste bile in his throat, and he groped about for the coffee pot, pouring out a hefty mug and downing half of it in one. "Morning."
"Morning," Draco responded, sounding unreasonably chipper for having overindulged last night. He'd drunk far more than Harry, and yet it was Harry who had spent most of the night curled around the toilet, and felt as though he'd been sat on by a dragon. "How do you feel?"
"Rubbish. Really bad."
Draco tutted in concern, standing up and pressing his hand to Harry's forehead. "You do feel warm. I can cover your first class, if you like?"
Harry nodded softly, wincing as his head throbbed with each step he took in the direction of the chair Draco pulled out for him. "What are you reading?"
"This information on teaching sex education. It's less funny now I'm sober, and much more terrifying. We'll be doing it on Monday evenings after dinner, the first one starting next week. The last time I saw a naked woman was a painting in the Accademia dell'Arte del Disegno, and even then I was more interested in David's penis. How the hell are we going to teach about witches and wizards doing the dirty?"
"We could focus on anal sex?" Harry suggested helpfully, trying to savour the soreness in his own arse, even though the movement made his head throb. Damn whisky.
"Yes, the girls of the school will thank us for that one. You may have a civil female best friend, I do not. Pansy's recollections of her traumatic brush with anal sex – complete with hand gestures – left me scarred for life. If all girls react like that, we'll be murdered in the corridors."
Sighing, Harry wrapped his hand tighter around his coffee mug, and pulled one of the leaflets towards him. Absentmindedly scratching his elbow, he began to read.
In the annoying way that it had, time seemed to fly by over the next four days, and before he was really ready for it, Harry was walking down to his classroom to talk to the fourth and fifth years about sex. Still, at least he wasn't alone – Draco had looked equally shaky when they parted in the entrance hall, Draco heading down to his dungeon classroom to have the same talk with the sixth and seventh years.
Pausing outside his classroom door, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had survived the War. He had survived not knowing what to do with his life, and dropping out of Auror School. He had survived beginning a relationship with Draco Malfoy, and continued to survive being in a relationship with Draco Malfoy every day. He had survived teacher training and his first day as a teacher. He could survive sex education. With a sense of calm clutched tightly to his chest, Harry opened the door and stepped into his classroom.
"Sir, is it true that it's illegal to have sex with a Hippogriff because Cornelius Fudge was caught doing it in the Ministers Office?"
"Sir, how come we have to have this now, when we know what sex is?"
"Sir, my dad has some magazines that are very educational, if you like?"
"Sir, are you going to talk about your sex life?"
"Sir, Green keeps threatening to get his dick out!"
"Sir, do we get to look at tits?"
Waving goodbye to his sense of calm, Harry slipped into teacher mode and hoped Draco was faring just as badly. Of course, Hermione and Rolanda would be coping perfectly. Harry must have visibly scowled at that thought, because the classroom fell silent around him. Moving to sit behind his desk, he settled himself down and spread out his papers, resting his lesson outline on the top. "Right then. Today, we will start with the basics of anatomy. Five points from your House for every inappropriate or lewd comment. Let's begin."
Once the initial embarrassment was dealt with – and the students had realised he was deadly serious about deducting points for childish behaviour – the sex education lessons started to run smoothly. As long as he prepared for them, Harry could get out his childishness in the privacy of his and Draco's rooms, and appear perfectly calm and mature when he was giving the lessons themselves.
He'd been quite surprised by how naïve the students were, even though they knew more than he had at that age. Then again, at their age he'd been fending off dragons and Dark Lords, so naivety wasn't a bad thing. But the boys, for all their talk and bravado, were surprisingly innocent, especially when it came to the fundamentals, such as sexual health, and basing a relationship on emotion. And during the lesson on examining themselves for changes or lumps, once the initial sniggering was over, and they were asking genuine questions about what they should do if they found something had changed, Harry realised just how important these lessons were, and silently applauded Minerva for implementing them as he described how to give oneself a proper testicular exam.
The students didn’t need to know that his description was so clear and useful because he'd spent the weekend exploring Draco's testicles.
"Is it not a bit late for ice cream?" Draco questioned as he sank onto the chair next to Harry and produced a spoon out of thin air, digging it into the large bowl of cherry ice cream and bringing it to his mouth. Harry scowled at him softly – he didn’t like sharing food, especially not when he'd been craving cherry ice cream all day – and shook his head.
Striking through one of the most ridiculous conclusions to an essay he'd ever read, Harry shovelled another spoonful of the sweet treat into his mouth and closed his eyes as he spoke around the melting mound. "It's never too late for ice cream. Detention go okay?"
"Fine. The little brats wrote their lines in silence, so I let them go on time. Seriously, Harry, you intended to eat all this ice cream by yourself?"
"Yes. But if you're nice, I could be convinced to share."
Draco smirked, and Harry suddenly lost his craving for ice cream, replacing it with a much hotter craving instead. Licking his spoon in an obscene way, Harry charmed the papers scattered over the table into one neat stack, and stood up, still clutching his bowl. Raising one brow at Draco, Harry turned and headed towards the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to glance over his shoulder, giving Draco his best come hither face before entering the bedroom with purpose in his steps.
Curled around the toilet bowl, Harry used every curse word he knew – including some creative contractions of bollocks, shit and dick that he knew he must remember to tell Ron next time they met up – and threw them violently at the gods of cherry ice cream, as his stomach threw cherry ice cream violently into the toilet.
"Sick," Harry's one-word answer wasn't really necessary, and he moaned as he felt Draco kneel down next to him, a cool flannel wrapping over the back of his neck.
"You ate less ice cream than you got all over us, so maybe you've got a bug or something. It's Saturday, go back to bed."
Nodding, Harry threw up once more for good luck, then hauled himself into a standing position and shuffled back to bed, grateful of Draco's arm to lean on. He only intended to close his eyes and wait out the sick feeling in his stomach, but when Harry opened his eyes again it was dark in the bedroom, and he could see the sunset outside the window.
Swinging his legs out of bed, Harry stood up and stretched. Noting that he no longer felt sick, he ambled out into the lounge. Draco was curled up on the sofa with a book and a glass of brandy, Harry's glasses perched on the end of his nose and one foot tapping a beat that only Draco ever seemed to hear. "You need to see an optician."
"Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t need glasses." Amazingly, nothing in Draco's tone implied that he was in fact lying, and the glasses on his face proved it. Anyone overhearing the conversation would believe Draco to be telling the truth. "Are you feeling better?
"Much, thanks. I'd better get started on my lesson plans, or I'll never finish."
"I've done them."
"I've done them. Well, I've done Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday morning."
Smiling, Harry felt a wave of emotion flow through him, almost enough to dampen his eyes. Although that would be ridiculously girly, and the wetness in his eyes must have been just the result of too much sleep and the smoke coming from the fireplace. "Thank you, very much."
"You'd do the same for me. Come sit with me for a while, and then I'll make some dinner."
Harry obliged, resting against Draco and taking his glasses and the book. Sliding the frames onto his face, he got comfortable and propped the book against his raised leg. Draco had told him once that his mother and father used to read to him as a child, and Harry knew that Draco much preferred being read to over reading. As Draco had done something nice for him, Harry would do this for his husband, even if the heavy texts did tend to go over his head.
Harry felt much better on Monday, and hadn't been sick since Saturday, which was nice. Although, he was craving a bowl of ice cream – obviously his body hadn't learned its lesson.
Sweeping into the classroom, his robes billowing behind him, Harry was glad he'd taken the time to ask portrait-Severus for a tutorial on making his robes billow, as the little charm was very effective, and there was something about billowing black robes that terrified the students.
The day's classes had gone smoothly – Draco's lesson plans were very good – and Harry hadn't bothered reading through the lesson plan for the sex education lesson. Once all the boys were seated, Harry pulled out the parchment and cleared his throat. "Today, class, we will be discussing pregnancy. As always, no inappropriate comments please."
The students all nodded, though Harry didn't really need to warn them – when Slytherin had lost forty-five points in one lesson, the boys had learnt to keep their comments to themselves. Harry worked easily through the topic, answering questions on pregnancy, and explaining the basic foetal development from creation to birth. Surprised that he'd finished so early, Harry was even more surprised to discover a second sheet of parchment, headed Male-Pregnancy.
Leaving the boys to chatter amongst themselves for a moment, Harry's eyes skimmed over the page, taking in Draco's neat handwriting. Male Pregnancy was, in certain cases, spontaneously possible, although it was more usually achieved by taking fertility potions. As Harry read the list of symptoms, something in his stomach got very cold and very tight.
Of course, that was a ridiculous thought, and Harry's subconscious' way of passing off greed as blameless.
Swallowing around the sudden tightness in his throat, Harry reached out and picked up the heavy textbook that he used to find out specific details on the topic. Running his forefinger down the contents page, Harry found the chapter on male pregnancy and skipped forwards to page 394, Chapter Nine.
Helpfully, the book had a text-box listing the symptoms of male pregnancy in a bullet point list.
Setting the book down, Harry's fingers trembled as he flexed them out and moved to clutch at his sleeve. Holding the heavy material like a lifeline, Harry drew the sleeve of his robe up his arm, closing his eyes and muttering a silent plea while he exposed his elbow.
Opening one eye, the last thing Harry saw before he passed out was a small patch of red rash.
Harry woke up slowly, aware of a feeling of apprehension in his stomach, but not yet awake enough to know why he felt such apprehension. Turning his head to the side, Harry opened his eyes to wake Draco, and came face to face with a bear. Yelling out, he jolted backwards, shooting over the edge of the bed and landing hard on his arse, banging his head on a bedside cabinet that jutted out much further than his own. "Bloody-buggering duck-fuckers!"
His shouted invectives must have alerted people to his presence, because rapid footsteps approached, and then strong hands grabbed him under his arms, hauling him upwards, and depositing him rather ungraciously on the bed.
"Professor Potter! I expect that kind of language from students, not staff! And I believe the Headmistress has warned all faculty members not to discuss Mr Nott's Wizengamot trial in school?"
Harry nodded apologetically, rubbing his head and glancing behind him. The bear was indeed a bear, of the stuffed variety, and looked to be roughly the same size as Harry himself. Turning round to ask what was going on, and where his class was – it'd be just his luck to have lost them somewhere – Harry saw Draco hovering next to Madam Pomfrey, with a half mushy, half terrified look on his face. "Draco? What's going on?"
"Oh Harry! Why didn’t you tell me?"
"Tell you what? Look, what happened?"
Draco had moved to sit next to him, looking more and more soppy and less and less terrified by the second, so Harry turned to Madam Pomfrey for a rational explanation.
"It appears that you passed out in your classroom – fainted. The students alerted myself and Professor Malfoy, and we brought you here. You had been lecturing on male pregnancy, and displayed a rash on your elbow, where the skin had been irritated. When Professor Malfoy mentioned you had been feeling rundown recently, and had been sick over the weekend, I ran a pregnancy test, which confirmed you are with child."
"I… wait, what? I'm a bloke!"
"Yes, Professor Potter, you are. That would explain the Male in male pregnancy, would it not?"
Stunned, Harry tried to think of something to say, some noises to make so that he wasn't just sat there opening and closing his mouth like a simple fish. "I… but I didn't take anything, or even know it was possible until I saw the lesson plan!"
"You didn't know wizards could get pregnant?" Draco asked incredulously, causing Harry to shoot him a death glare.
"No, I did not. Evidently you did, and why you didn't warn me is anyone's guess. I can't be pregnant, it's just…"
"Evidence of the deep and abiding soul-bond between yourself and Professor Malfoy?" Madam Pomfrey offered, a hint of laughter underlying her question.
Harry gaped at her again, brain working very fast to process all the information. He wasn't aware of Draco moving until he felt the warmth of the blond's hand on his stomach. "What are you doing?"
"Seeing if she's kicking."
"She's only a few weeks old, and you don't know she's a she and…" things clicked into place, and Harry looked up at Madam Pomfrey, his mouth hanging open in shock. It was as though talking about the child had removed a veil, and as his displaying of the symptoms fell into place, Harry knew with complete certainty that this was another of those situations where he was the chance in a million. "And we're having a baby."
"We're having a baby," Draco confirmed, his grin threatening to lop the top of his head off, it stretched so wide.
Resting his hand over Draco's on his abdomen, Harry asked Madam Pomfrey, "Is there any way to tell precisely how far along I am?"
"The Healers at St. Mungo's will be able to do that when you go for your first scan. I'll go and Owl them while you two talk things over."
As Madam Pomfrey left the ward and headed into her office, Harry turned to look at Draco, smiling gently.
"Why did you ask?"
"Because," Harry answered, his smile turning into a leer, "I think some of my second trimester symptoms are coming on early!"