#writing prompt: coconut

[shadyelizabeth]

8.10. COCONUT

From a young age, Harry had known he wanted to have kids. Having not been raised by his own parents and only having glimpses of what good parenting looked like, the overall idea was kind of daunting to him, but he wanted it nonetheless. He wanted to build a family of his own.

What that looked like for him changed over the years. At first, he thought he and Ginny would have a few red-headed kids or maybe a little black-haired baby if his genetics were strong enough. But after the war,  he and Ginny started to drift apart. She was never the same after Fred died, and Harry couldn’t be what she needed.

Not in any rush to find another relationship, he let himself be consumed by work but made time for the occasional date or two. However, it quickly became clear that dating as an adult was going to be a bit more complicated than he’d anticipated.

Harry had always had fans–“Potterheads”, as they so lovingly called themselves–but, while in school, his interactions with them had been filtered through the mail. Now, with virtually unfettered access, when going on dates, he was unsure whether people were going out with him because of genuine interest or because he was Harry Potter.

For a while, he was resigned to being (forever) alone. 

Until Neville turned him onto a new dating app just for wizards called Thirdstory which allowed the user as much or as little anonymity as they wanted. Not wanting to be recognized by his name or his face, he uploaded a picture of his abs (not that he was desperate or anything), set his username to heartofalion7, and waited to see what happened.

The first few inquiries were, as expected, complimenting him on his physique and asking to see more, but Harry wasn’t looking for a hookup. So when he got a message from asnakeinthegarden saying, “Vanity is unbecoming,” he snorted. With a comment attached to a username like that, Harry knew whoever was behind the profile was probably a Slytherin, and he was immediately intrigued. 

Once they started talking, they didn’t stop. Over the next few weeks, they talked for several hours a day, both of them careful not to give too much away, but still able to have meaningful and deep conversations about their failures and their fears, their hopes, and their dreams. Right before they decided to meet in person, Harry admitted he’d signed up for the app because he was looking for a genuine connection, someone he could see himself having a future with, to which they’d responded: “I find it utterly fascinating that you thought the best way to attract a life partner was by showing the world your nipples.”

If Harry hadn’t been sure beforehand, he knew then that he was smitten. 

They agreed to meet at a little café near the River Thames. Harry had gone back and forth with himself about whether to arrive early–he didn’t want to seem too eager, even though he was–or to arrive on time as he didn’t want to risk being late. He’d eventually settled on early, ordering an English breakfast tea for himself and Earl Grey for his garden snake as he settled in to wait for his arrival. 

The first thing he saw was white-blonde hair, and while a very small part of his mind had thought Draco, he quickly dismissed the idea because what were the odds? But as the person moved closer and Harry’s eyes were able to make out more details, the blonde hair framed a slender face with an angular nose and a cautious expression, and he was wearing the royal green jumper he said he’d be in.

To say Harry had been surprised was an understatement. That the guy he’d been talking to for almost a month–who was witty and charming, intelligent and sarcastic, who made him laugh until his stomach hurt and who kept him up at night with discussions about Muggle musicians and his favorite desserts–was Draco Malfoy made no sense, and yet, when the door opened, the tiny overhead bell tinkling happily, it was him.

Almost as soon as the door closed behind him, he stopped in his tracks, recognition drawing his manicured eyebrows together.

“Potter.” His eyes darted around the room as if he might find another person waiting for him wearing a red and black flannel. When his eyes settled back on Harry, the crease between his eyebrows seemed impossibly deeper. “You’re–are you–”

“heartofalion7?” He nodded. “And that makes you–”

“asnakeinthegarden.” He sighed. His eyebrows fluttered down and closed with his sagging shoulders. With his hands clenched into fists, he asked, “Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is–”

“It’s not. It’s–” Draco was the last person he’d expected to meet today, and while it almost seemed like a cosmic joke that his garden snake was his school nemesis, he couldn’t deny the feelings of joy and excitement and passion and lust that had been swirling around within him, all born out of honest conversation. “It’s serendipity.”

“It’s insanity!” Draco folded his arms across his chest, continuing to raise his guard. “This has to be some kind of mix-up! You and I, Potter, we’re enemies, or have you forgotten? We don’t like anything about each other.”

“I mean, you did say you were fascinated by my nipples.”

Harry had seen Draco flush before, and in those previous situations, the red in his cheeks had given him great satisfaction. Much like before, the pink tinting those high cheekbones made Harry immensely satisfied but for a completely different reason this time. 

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

“I do.” He smiled, hoping it was coming off inviting. He gestured to the seat across from him. “That’s why you should come sit and tell me more things I already know. Or tell me anything. Just . . . don’t go.”

When Harry kissed Draco goodbye later that afternoon, it was with a smile on his lips and, for the first time in a long time, a vision of what his future could look like.

Three years later, they were exchanging wedding vows.

Present day, five years after their first date, Harry and Draco were sitting in their surrogate’s kitchen.

Madeleine was a patisserie owner and an old friend of Draco’s, having met when she was trying to get her business up and running. He lent her the money while she indulged his sweet tooth. When Draco had mentioned that they were wanting to have a baby, she enthusiastically offered to help, saying, “You helped me get my baby. Let me help you get yours!”

Harry was so excited by the initial excitement of his dream coming true that after all paperwork and details were taken care of and Maddie’s pregnancy was confirmed, he felt a little bereft. He knew having a baby with a man would be a different experience than having one with a woman who was his partner, but still, he thought he would be more involved somehow, that there would be more to do in the months before the baby arrived.

Draco must have sensed his restlessness because a few weeks into the pregnancy, on a Sunday afternoon, Draco walked Harry into their backyard with one hand over his eyes and the other on the small of his back guiding him forward.

“No peeking!” he’d said, his voice warm with affection.

“I’m not! I’m not!” 

When they reached the end of the deck, he removed his hand and said, “Okay. You can look.”

Blinking to clear his vision, their small fenced-in backyard had been decorated with navy streamers and dark purple balloons. Madeleine was standing in front of a folding table laden with sweets holding a sign that said, “HAPPY BABY BLUEBERRY!!”

“What is this?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

“Well,” Madeleine started, “I thought a fun way to keep you up to date on the baby’s progress would be to have a weekly pastry party, based on the baby’s relative size to fruit. This week Baby Potter-Malfoy is the size of a blueberry, so I made you some blueberry treats: cobbler, cookies, and crumble bars! Each week will be something new!”

And so, thirty-one weeks in, Harry and Draco were sitting at Maddie’s kitchen table while she pulled some sweets from the refrigerator, refusing to let them help.

With his arm wrapped around the back of Harry’s chair, Draco leaned in and softly said, “What do you think it’s going to be this week?”

“Hmm, maybe a melon? Like a cantaloupe or honeydew.”

“I was thinking maybe a pineapple.”

“Close,” Maddie said, setting down a circular dish with a flaky crust, whipped peaks, and coconut flakes garnishing the top. “Not quite as big yet and a little more . . . hairy.” She winked at him before turning back to the fridge.

Harry found Draco’s hand under the table and gently squeezed. “We have a little baby coconut.” He suddenly sat up, back straight and eyes wide. “We have a little baby coconut!”

He didn’t know why this felt different. Maybe it was because he’d learned that baby poop could be the consistency of the pie they were about to eat (which he was still going to eat). Maybe it was the “hairy” comment, even though he knew the baby had all its essential parts by now. It wasn’t because of the size; that set in with the cauliflower. (Draco had snapped a picture of him cradling a cauliflower crown with tears in his eyes a few weeks ago.) But for reasons not even Hermione could explain, Baby Coconut Potter-Malfoy suddenly made this very real for Harry.

Turning to face Draco, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes again. “We have a little baby coconut.”

With a small smile, Draco pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We do, and they’re gonna be here so soon.”

The tears were fully running down his cheeks now. It honestly didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t care. Taking his husband’s face gently in his hands, he kissed him sweetly. “I promise not to be this much of a mess when we have our next kid.”

Draco swiped a thumb across his cheek. “If you break it, I promise I won’t be upset.”

Laughing through his tears, Harry said, “Godric, I love you. Happy Baby Coconut!”

“Happy Baby Coconut, my love.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #august writing challenge #had fun with this one #writing prompt: coconut #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic