Author's Note: Hi everyone! This piece has jumped into my head because I've been finding myself recently really enjoying Harry/Draco stories! I am going to be updating alternately between this story, "Love and Despair", and "Eyes of A Child". I know so many of you cannot wait for those stories to be updated, which will be sometime this week!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN the Harry Potter world, fandom, or characters. HOWEVER, I do ownthese characters: Jenny Potter, Jason Weasley, Cathleen Weasley, Brady Robertson, and Dr. Trevor Jameson

Warnings: Mature sexual content and disease, and mature grammar, MPREG, and mentions of HD

Proud of the House I Built

Chapter One – Struggles, Symptoms, Diagnosis

September – 2001

Spinning in circles, hands grasped tightly around the child's, as he twirled her around like an airplane eliciting joyful squeals from the girl was how Draco Malfoy came to a conclusion that he had made the biggest mistake of his life nearly four years. Watching the raven-haired man place his daughter gently on the ground, where he knelt and tickled her crazily, Draco began feeling a pang of regret building up in his chest.

"Daddy… stop!" The curly blonde-haired toddler (who was 3 years old) squeaked as she laughed hysterically.

Chuckling back, the man asked, "Now how do you get me to stop?" A playful smirk appeared on his lips.

"Like this," the girl replied as she crawled away from her father's hands jumping on his back and proceeded to tickle him endlessly.

Laughing, the young man admitted defeat. After a minute he threw his arms up in the air and exclaimed, "All right, all right – I surrender! You win… again!"

The small child leapt to her feet and began jumping up and down clapping her hands together, "I beat you again, daddy! Why you no good at this game?"

"Because you're just better at it than me… Besides, you get practice with your cousin Jason."

A pout formed and her hands went to her hips, "But Jason always beats me!"

The man nodded, "True, but he's two years older than you. Look at it this way – the more you practice with Jason, the more times you'll beat me."

She smiled brightly, "I love playing with Jason!" An identical playful smirk spread across the child's lips like it previously had on her father's. "Daddy, when are Uncle Ron and Jason coming?"

"Should be here anytime now," Harry replied glancing down at his watch.

Draco, startled, jumped in place when Ron and Jason appeared out of thin air.

"Oi, Harry, Jenny!"

"Uncle Ron!"

"Uncle Harry!"

Jenny and Jason shouted as they ran into their uncles' arms.

"I beat daddy today!"

"Oh yeah?" Ron smirked, "In what game?"

"Our tickle-bug game. Daddy's no good and I always win," Jenny explained.

"Is that so?" Ron questioned teasingly.

"Why, yes, it is. But I know this little man is way better at soccer than you are."

"Yeah, dad! So don't make fun of Uncle Harry," Jason scolded his father.

Harry and Ron laughed as they leaned in for a brief hug.

"It's so great to see you, mate! It's been forever…"

Harry sighed, "I know. But I've finally found a job that unfortunately I'm good at and get paid for with no taxes to take away from that amount. I only work it during the early morning hours so I have all day and all night with Jenny." Harry crossed his arms against his chest as he watched the two kids run around chasing one another. "If only this job didn't risk my health, it'd be perfect…"

A frown formed on Ron's face as he let out a sympathetic sigh. His whole family, but especially he, Hermione, Arthur, and Molly had sought out jobs that Harry may be hired for. They were all turned down. Now his best friend, recently employed by a whore-house director nearly five months ago, worked at home late at night as one of London's whores. Males or females were Harry's clients but most of them tended to be males. Harry would take them to the shed and would be paid up front ($10/hour/client). Harry worked every other night – beginning on Mondays – but worked both Saturday and Sunday and on those nights he normally had four clients who took up about two hours each. By the end of each week Harry managed to scrounge up about a mere $400. His monthly income only being around $1600… His clients who were wealthier – out of pity – sometimes gave Harry a higher fee. Ron and his family accepted Harry's job no matter how guilty they felt or disgusted with the ministry… They just felt terribly upset that this was how the savior of their world was now forced to live. Harry wrote to him every now and then through muggle mail and confessed the one fear that constantly crossed his mind... Ron, what if I contract a STD and end up dying? I can't give up this job for it pays me well. But what happens if I have to leave my little girl? Where will she go? What will happen to her? She is not welcomed in the wizarding world so you and Hermione – even though you're her Godparents – cannot take her in. I can't let her be dragged off to an orphanage. Ron, you have to promise me something… if something ever happens to me, please give her to Draco. I know he'll be in shock, but he'll come to love her. I need her to go to Draco. I mean Draco was also exiled and has no wand… so she can go with him. Ron intended to keep that promise, but prayed every night that he would never have to deliver it.

"So anyway, Ron," Harry sighed at his friend's silence, "How are Hermione and Cathleen?"

"They are doing wonderfully. You haven't seen Cathleen since the day she was born. You need to make plans with us soon, Harry. I mean Cathleen's already six months old."

Sighing in defeat, bitter yet painful eyes met Ron's, "You must realize if I still had my wand and wasn't exiled from the wizarding world, Jenny and I would be around constantly. But having no access to my inheritance and being forced to live in the muggle world doesn't give me much of a choice other than working and raising my daughter… Mind you, we do live on a low income, but we are surviving."

"But…"

"No, mate," Harry disrupted the red-haired man, "Jenny was worth my sacrifice. Believe me. She was worth it."

Draco felt his heart drop at the despair he heard in Harry's voice. Why would the wizarding world exile their saviour and his daughter? Why would they take Harry's wand and money away?

Ron's gaze dropped and he said, "I'm sorry, Harry. I forget sometimes that you got exiled from the Burrow, too. Forgive me."

Harry nodded, "I've gotten over it. The ministry had no right to tell me that either I abort my baby and could stay or I get exiled if I didn't abort it… there was never a choice there! I would never kill my own flesh-and-blood."

"If only that git didn't desert you. I warned ya of him, Harry. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy…"

"He was going through a difficult time himself, having just been exiled and wand snapped. Yes, I was frustrated that each time I started mentioning a topic that related to the pregnancy he always changed the conversation, but I don't blame Draco Malfoy one bit. In fact, it's better this way. He got the chance to start life anew, never having to look back."

"But if he'd listened, you guys would've been married and you wouldn't have been exiled."

"But Draco would have remained exiled so I would have been in the same situation." Sighing, running a hand through his unruly hair, Harry added, "Things happened the way they did for a reason. Nothing is going to change that. I don't regret these past three years at all. In all – I pray that Draco has moved on and is happy."

Ron was hesitant but just nodded his head in agreement.

"Well let's take the children inside and start catching up." Harry glanced at the sky, "Besides, it looks like it will downpour any minute now."

The four family members made their way to Harry's run-down house and went inside. Draco shuddered as he studied the house his former lover and daughter resided in. Bricks were missing, sides were hanging off the foundation, half the tiles on the roof were missing, and it appeared that at any moment the house would collapse in on itself. Oh, why did I leave him? Look at the life I've drove them to live. They live the life of true poverty… Draco continued to repeat everything he'd heard Ron and Harry speak. Harry genuinely cared about him still and despite his current, hellish living condition, he still wished the best for him. Oh what should I do? I do have a boyfriend. And Brady is the best… He makes me happier than when I was with Harry. But damn it! Harry has given birth to my own child! And their living condition is hell itself… I doubt Harry would give me any custody rights to Jenny… and I don't want to intrude in their lives. Besides, if we were to go to court – considering the living conditions Harry is providing for the girl – the judge would give me full custody stating that his current living condition for Jenny was not safe. Though as true as that may be, I don't have it in my heart to take Jenny away from Harry… A thought occurred in Draco's mind causing him to smile in content. He left Harry's residence to prepare the gift and planned to send it to them anonymously.

One month later…

Harry sat down at the edge of his bed, breathing heavily, from the pain his body feeling. Tonight had been a rough night as he performed his job. The men were over six feet tall, muscular, husky, and had much weight on them. They had paid him only the minimal ten bucks per hour. However, two of the four men decided to take him for four hours each… which that had never happened to Harry before; the longest session had be two and half hours long. His bottom was burning and just felt stiff. Glancing at the alarm clock through sleepy, pain-filled eyes Harry noticed that it was nearly seven in the morning. Jenny would be up within the half hour. Harry thought about catching a little shut-eye but thought against it. I need to hop in the shower and clean my wounds… by the time I am finished, Jenny should be up and about. Dragging himself into a standing position, Harry headed to the bathroom to get himself into father-mode.

Harry, of course, had been right in his presumption of his daughter's awakening. Before he knew it, he was cooking breakfast when his little girl tugged at the waist of his shirt and held her arms up.

"Hold me, daddy," Jenny replied rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Harry smiled. Despite how much pain he was in, the sight of his daughter could always make him feel better. "G'morning, sweetie. Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes."

"What are you cooking?"

"Your favorite: Strawberry waffles."

Jenny sniffed the air with a pleased expression written on her face, "Mmm…. that smells yummy, daddy." Jenny eyes wandered the counter and noticed an ingredient missing, "Daddy, where's the chocolate syrup for the waffles?"

Harry stifled a laughed but smiled as he kissed his daughter's forehead, "In the fridge still, baby. Don't worry, I didn't forget about it." Setting her down in her seat at the table, Harry asked, "Would you like orange juice or white milk?"

The child scrunched her face up as she made the difficult decision, "Umm… I want… white milk!"

Harry nodded, "All right. Well give me about a minute and breakfast will be at the table and served."

As the father and daughter finished up their breakfast, Harry heard a knock on the door. Excusing himself from table, Harry walked over to the front door and opened it. Shocked that no one was there, Harry looked all around and saw no signs of anyone ever being there. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry was about to shut the door when his eyes caught a glimpse of a tiny white envelope that was sticking halfway out underneath the welcome map. Bending down, Harry picked up the envelope and opened it. As he read its contents, his eyes grew as wide as saucers.

Dear Harry,

We've know each other for at least eleven, if not twelve years, by now. Let's just say we're acquaintances, nothing more… It's been brought to my attention that ever since your exile from the wizarding world that you've been suffering. I do not agree with how the ministry has treated you and your daughter. I've recently been by your residence just checking out the conditions in which you are living under; and let's just say, your living conditions are unsatisfactory. I cannot allow you and your daughter to have to continue living like you currently are.

I've also done my research and it showed that up to five months ago you had been working as a grocer. I am just confused as to why you are not working now? Money has got to be rock bottom, by now, for you. Considering your grocer position was barely half of the average monthly income that most people attain today.

Due to these circumstances, I have wrote out a check for you. If you wish for your daughter to receive medical treatment, clean clothes, and be able to have food at the table every day, then DO NOT tear up this check. It is NOT charity. And the check is not being given out due to pity. No, I am giving you this check so you can provide a healthy, hygienic, and good-nurturing home for your only daughter. As a father, don't you want your daughter to have only the best that you can provide for her? I know that's what I would want for my child.

The check enclosed holds a great amount of money… Your bank accountant, Marsha Graham, is prepared for when you come in with it. I've already talked to her about this situation.

Please use this check wisely. Realize that years down the road, your daughter will be most grateful.

I hope only the best for you!

Sincerely,

A Former Acquaintance

Harry's hands trembled as he gazed down at the check. $500,000… That was so much money. Who in the world would freely give away $500,000 without there being a catch, something they wanted in return? But as he re-read the letter, he simply stared at it in shock when he realized that somebody was helping him. But who? With the exception of the Weasleys, Harry was now despised in the wizarding world. Who in their right mind would help him?

"Daddy?" A small voice interrupted his thought-processing, "Why are you shaking? Are you hurt, daddy?" Jenny leaned against her father, wrapping her arms around his legs as she lifted her head and gazed up at him.

There was one thing that always stunned him about his daughter, and that was how intelligent she was at only three years old. "Baby, I've some great news!"

"What is it, daddy?" Her bright, emerald eyes that held hope, love, and innocence widened with her question.

"How would you like to see this house become nice looking and more cheerful? And then we can buy you new clothes and some toys?"

"Really, daddy? We never do that…" Dullness clouded her eyes. Although she was only three, nearly four, she understood that her daddy couldn't afford all the things she wanted and learned at an early age to just cherish the things she had.

"I am serious, Jenny. Somebody really really nice has given us a large amount of money. I can buy you things now… not everything… but mostly necessities. And the most important priority is getting this house in a condition where we can live and not be afraid that it's going to collapse. Sound like a good plan, baby?"

Jenny smiled, "Let's do it, daddy!"

Harry pulled his daughter into a tight embrace and rubbed circles on her back as a few tears escaped his eyes in pure content and relief.

Two weeks had passed since Harry had received the check from the mysterious person and with the aid of his brothers (Ron, Fred, George, and Bill); Harry's house had been done completely over. No one, besides the boys and Jenny, had seen the ending results. However, now that it was Hermione's birthday, Harry suggested as a grand opening of his house that they should hold the party there. The whole family agreed. So now, standing outside of Harry's house, the entire Weasley clan stared in aww – their jaws down with mouths open – as they stared at the beautiful little cottage that used to be a broken down shack.

Molly let out a cry and pulled Harry into her arms, "You, dear, do have an angel watching over you. This house is gorgeous! Now I won't have to worry about you and Jenny every night."

Harry let out a tense smile. But he held his emotions in. Despite the pitiful shack he and Jenny used to live in, Harry was quite proud of it because it proved to Harry each morning that the hideous job he had paid for shelter, food, and clothes that both he and Jenny were fortunate enough to have. He made a living on the scrawny monthly income he earned as being a whore. God, how he loathed that word. But loathing that word meant he loathed himself, which he didn't. The life he lived was both positive and negative. He despised being a sex toy to all those clients but he would never trade the years that had gone by raising his precious little girl.

"But that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop worrying about you, young man. Hermione has informed me of all those muggle diseases that can be contracted through sex. You be careful all the time, do you understand? I don't want to see you end up getting one of those."

Harry let out a dry chortle of despair and embarrassment as everyone stared in his direction, "Considering I've probably had close to four hundred clients that had me for hours during the night and haven't caught anything; I believe I'm safe to say that I am taking precautions. The diseases have crossed my mind since this job started."

The Weasleys gasped. When Harry confessed he'd allowed his body to be used nearly with four hundred different people for hours on end, their stomachs churned violently. How had life turned so sour for this young man?

"Four hundred clients, Harry?" Hermione choked out as fury filled her eyes.

"How is that even possible?" echoed Ginny.

"Guys, leave him be. From what he's told me, this is something that should just be kept quiet."

"Look," Harry sighed knowing he had to tell them something or he would never hear the end of it, "Yes, I realize four hundred clients is a lot. But once you hear my schedule you'll know I am not exaggerating. My work days are Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The hours are nine at night through whatever time it's finished in the morning though I draw the line at 6:30 because an hour later is when Jenny wakes up. There are always four clients scheduled for each night. They pay ten dollars by the hour. The majority of them spend normally two hours with me. However, a couple weeks ago I had two clients who each spent four hours with me. I can't complain though, I got more money that way."

"God, Harry – how are you able to function after all those jobs with the clients? Are you ever not in pain?" Molly asked with concern in her tone.

"Of course I'm always in pain," Harry whispered so his daughter did not hear him, "But what am I supposed to do about that? It's my job so I have to put up with it."

"You shouldn't when you know very well how likely you are to contract a disease… a deadly one at that!" voiced Hermione viciously. "Why are you allowing this to happen to yourself, Harry? Why are you simply allowing strangers to come into your house each night and rape you? That's honestly what they're doing to you."

Harry's eyes adverted to the ground where he stared at the slightly brown-tinged grass. Leave it to Hermione to make my self-esteem sink even lower. "What do you know about my life, Hermione? Having no education like a regular muggle child, nobody hires you! Being able to work only certain hours because you're trying to raise your own kid but in such desperate need for money is a living nightmare. Then when you finally are given a second chance, your own best friend just can't stand seeing you happy and smiling genuinely for once."

"Harry," Hermione began but Harry disrupted her thought.

Sighing in defeat, Harry stated, "Look, I realize we had a birthday planned here but I'm just not in the mood anymore. So I'd appreciate it if you all just went home. I'm sorry, Hermione. But I do hope you have a happy birthday." As Harry walked over to gather up his daughter, he swayed and his hands flew up to his head clutching at it as though he were trying to put out a fire. "Ugh! God, I'm gonna be sick." murmured Harry as he fell to his knees and vomited. As if he wasn't embarrassed enough, Harry felt a churning in his stomach and felt like tiny bubbles were popping, and in a blink of any eye his stomach let loose the contents and Harry messed his pants as diarrhea gushed out everywhere. Harry groaned and allowed himself to fall into the welcoming darkness that surrounded him.

Hermione, Ginny, and Molly quietly excused themselves as they gathered the children: Jenny, Jason, and Cathleen and took them away from the gruesome sight. Meanwhile Arthur had cast a cleansing spell on Harry as the mess disappeared instantly. Ron gently hoisted Harry into his arms as they walked into the newly decorated home and went straight up to the man's bedroom where Ron carefully lay Harry down.

"Should I get Madam Pomfrey?" questioned Fred.

"Yeah, I mean she isn't against Harry," added George.

"It would be too risky for both her and Harry," stated Bill with worry.

"We have to do something. I mean Harry was fine one minute and then this happened the very next minute."

"Dad, you are right. What happened to Harry is not normal. But to me, this just sounds like a normal virus that Harry must have caught from someone. I say we stay here with him for a week and see how he is. If he appears to have worsen or not gotten any better then we'll take him to a muggle doctor to see what is wrong with him. I agree with Bill in keeping Pomfrey from this. It would not be safe for her. And if the ministry knew we were in contact with Harry, they'd probably lock him up in Azkaban and dispose of Jenny by throwing her to the dementors."

Three days had passed since Harry had collapsed on the ground violently sick. During those three days Harry had spiked a fever of 103F that kept rising to 105F and would fall back down; however, it did not go lower than 103F. Hermione was getting worried… and that was an understatement. Since Harry's confession of the numerous clients he had per week and altogether within the last five months, she couldn't help but wonder if this was more than just the flu. Harry was feverish, having hallucinations, sweating but shivering at the same time, he had dark circles under his eyes which meant he was not getting a good night's sleep even though he'd been passed out for three days, he was still vomiting and the diarrhea was still an issue. Hermione excused herself from the room and went on downstairs to get a drink of orange juice.

"I wanna see daddy! I need daddy! Please let me see my daddy!" The small child begged as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Hermione held back her sob at the distress this young child was enduring, "Jenny, your daddy is still very sick. It is not good for him to have many people up there with him right now. Daddy wouldn't want you to get sick or Jason and Cathleen. Once your daddy is feeling better then you can see him."

"When will that be? Today?"

The hope in the child's eyes made a lone tear escape her Godmother's eye, "I don't think today, sweetie, but maybe tomorrow."

"But I need daddy," Jenny tried to explain again. "He reads me bedtime stories."

"So have we, Jenny."

"But you don't do it the way daddy does. He does all the neat and funny voices and makes the faces for the charey… charec… chareyters."

"Characters," corrected Hermione. "Well from now on, whoever is reading you the story will try to be more like your daddy."

Jenny nodded but still was reluctant. "But daddy gives me special butterfly kisses and bear hugs. You guys can't do those. They are only daddy's. I miss them," Jenny croaked out as her bottom lip trembled and the crying began.

Hermione gathered the child in her arms and let her cry as she tried to calm her worries. "Everything will be better soon. Daddy will feel better and you'll get back to your regular routine. You'll see. Just give him some time, baby."

"I miss playing our special game."

"What game is that?"

"The tickle-bug game," Ron answered as he entered the kitchen. "I know I'm not your daddy, but would you allow me to play that game with you until your daddy's better?"

"You are my Godfather… I guess so!"

"Well come here you little runt," Ron exclaimed pulling the child to his side and began tickling her.

Giggles erupted and echoed throughout the house and a weight had been lifted from Jenny as her Godfather played with her and made her forget her worries.

Another four days had passed and Harry's condition remained the same. Fortunately his temperature had dropped two degrees and was now currently standing at 101F. It was decided that Ron, Hermione, and Arthur would take Harry to the hospital in London called Jacob Memorial. Preparing him for the trip was a horrific experience for the three family members though… Harry was still suffering from hallucinations so whenever they made physical contact with him, he would lash out.

"Harry, it's time to sit up. We're going to take you to the doctor." Ron stated as he began to ease Harry into a sitting position.

Harry, however, did not like this act. His eyes snapping open, his right hand back-slapping Ron across the face causing him to fall backwards, Harry shot up in a sitting position and began shouting, "No, get away from me! Don't touch, I'm dirty. No please, don't hurt her! Take me instead… but leave Jenny alone. No, don't touch her, you bastard! STOP IT!"

"Harry, calm down. It's me Ron. I am not here to hurt Jenny and I am not here to hurt you."

After squeezing his eyes shut, the young man slowly opened his eyes and blinked as he tried to figure out who was sitting at the edge of his bed.

"Here are your glasses," the person spoke handing them to him.

Once his glasses were on, Harry visibly relaxed, "Ron?"

"Yes, Harry, it's me."

"Wha' 'appened? W'you 'ere?" Harry asked, his words slurred.

"On Hermione's birthday, you collapsed. You've been violently sick since. It's been a week and you've been out of it, mate. You still aren't better; so dad, 'Mione, and myself are taking you to a hospital to get you checked out. You definitely don't just have the flu," Ron finished seriously, concern shining through his eyes.

Harry merely nodded. "Who'll watch Jenny?"

"Everyone is still here, so don't you worry about it. We've got Jenny all covered. Now let's just concentrate on getting you to the car and to that hospital," Hermione spoke trying to contain her worry.

The trip to the hospital had been easy since Harry had fallen asleep the minute he was seated in the back seat. Now the three Weasleys waited anxiously to hear news on what was wrong Harry. He'd been back in the trauma room for nearly five hours now and they had had no update on the man's condition.

Meanwhile, Harry lay back in the hospital bed wearing one of their gowns and a sterile, white blanket covered him from the waist down. He had just been poked and probed and undergone numerous tests. He currently was set up to an IV and was resting waiting for the doctor to come in with the test results. A knock on the door alerted Harry to the doctor's arrival.

"Mr. Potter, I'm Dr. Trevor Jameson. I have results of the tests you've gone through today."

"Please call me Harry. And no beating around the bush, doctor. I can tell it's bad news, so just give it to me straight." Harry's voice was subdued.

"First let me ask you a question, Harry. When we were checking your prostate and genitals, we noticed quite a bit of damaged down there. Have you been raped, Harry?"

Harry looked away, ashamed.

At his patient's failed response, Dr. Jameson spoke sincerely, "Harry, I need you to tell me the truth. Nothing you say will make me think differently of you. Your personal life is your concern, not mine."

Sighing, realizing there was no way around it, Harry replied, "No, I was not raped. It's my job. I'm a whore of London."

The doctor nodded, "How many people have you been with?"

"I've been doing this nearly six months now, though this last week I have been unable to seeing as I was sick. Monthly I get around eighty clients. So altogether in the past five months I've probably had a little over four-hundred clients."

"Do you have sex with them just once or repeatedly during each section."

"Let's just say my hours are nine at night to six-thirty in the morning with no breaks in between. Doesn't that pretty much answer your question?" supplied Harry sarcastically.

"You are really ruining your body, Harry. This is serious. I'm sure your sessions have been violent and it's tearing you up literally. You barely have any response to physical touch down there. Your nerves are severed, Harry. You have no feeling down there anymore…"

Harry stared at the doctor in shock, "I don't? Then why do I feel it each time?"

"You aren't really feeling anything. You probably haven't truly felt anything in the last three months. Your memory is feeding you what it remembers of what it should feel like, making you think you are feeling pleasure, when in reality you are not."

"Then why do I still come?"

"It's naturally the way the body responds to the pleasure only you just don't feel yourself coming, you only see the after shot."

"Can that be corrected? I mean if I find someone I love and can quit being a whore, will sex ever be enjoyable again for me?"

"I am afraid not. And I am pleased to say you will no longer be a whore, but I am terribly sorry to have to tell you that you are forbidden to have sexual intercourse with anyone again."

Fear flashed in the emerald eyes, "Doctor?"

The doctor took a deep breath before continuing, "I am afraid, Harry, that you have contracted a deadly disease through your sessions with your clients… According to the test results, you have AIDS, Harry."

Author's Note: Well, how was the first chapter of this story? I hope it met my reader's needs and standards for angst, family, and hurt/comfort of our beloved character: HARRY. This story will only be 3 or 4 chapters long… PLEASE REVIEW!!!! Reviews keep my hunger for inspiration in a balance and on-top which aids my fuel and causes updates to come regularly… Let me know if I should continue!!!