SPOILER ALERT!
This is what is not said or shown in the kidnapping scene.
On another site, A-O-3, I've posted a "Pic-Fic" for this story, a short drabble accompanied by a picture, related to the story events. It isn't possible to do that on this site, so here's the text without the picture of Draco hanging onto the helicopter scene.
It happened in seconds. But time slowed in suspension. Draco leapt for the helicopter's base, knowing that if Harry couldn't get this far in the chase, then what made him think he had a chance? He was going to die if he held on. Not because the fall would kill him, but because he was too consumed by fear to use his magic effectively enough to save their daughter.
His nervous system, an alarm of screaming veins exploding in panic, calculated in quantum time, that he could not grab her back, stop the helicopter, fight the other wizards on board, and make sure that Harry was still alive on the ground behind him, all at the same time. So he leapt because he was willing to die trying.
In the middle of the fall he changed his mind. He couldn't live with knowing how easily she'd slipped through their hands.
While hanging on, and the helicopter was moving away from the building, and there was no more ground for him to fall to, he realized he had to live. That was the only way to make sure they got her back.
All in a split second.
His grip slipped, attempting to hold his weight. The helicopter's engine ground through his skull and propeller gusts forced him to admit that he was about to die.
All in a split – prolonged – second.
Pain blinded him when one of the kidnappers leaned out and sent a stinging jinx down at him. All he could think of as he fell, was saving the baby he hadn't yet told Harry about. Molly Weasley was right. His move to America had been partially about having a discreet abortion, with Harry none the wiser. They had their problems and he couldn't see how to make it work. But as he fell, and had to make a decision about saving his body from an unknown drop, he knew he had to keep this baby. He had to raise it himself. It deserved life, no matter what that did to his own life.
So he fell. He used his magic to envelope and reinforce the strength of his abdomen, which was still flat. He focused on protecting the center of his body while he could still hold a conscious thought.
A split second.
Later, as his doctor looked at his X-rays, it appeared a mystery as to how a wizard's body could suffer so many major fractures. His legs were destroyed. Repairable, but destroyed. Why hadn't he simply stopped his fall with his magic? Slowed his momentum? Was it the inability to reign his panic in? The inability to focus properly while knowing the kidnappers were getting away?
No. It was because he used every ounce of his magic to ensure that his legs absorbed the impact on the street below, and that the baby felt none. It had to survive.
