Chapter 28
The rest of my pregnancy went relatively normally. There was a small birthday party held for me in the rose garden, which much of the DA attended. The weather began to cool, and I began going to St. Mungo's more frequently, until they finally just assigned a healer to stay at Windhithe for the rest of the pregnancy. I planned on inviting Lucius and Narcissa, along with Draco's grandmother Druella, over for Christmas. On December seventh, at thirty-three weeks pregnant, I sat at my desk, quill in hand. I dipped it into black ink and wrote out the letter. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, Narcissa's actions had been made public. I respected her for aiding Harry, and the Malfoys were one of the few Death Eater families who weren't prosecuted. She did it out of love for her son. A love that I would soon understand.
I smiled, looking around the nursery. This was in the private wing of the castle. Draco and mine's bedroom was the next door down. It was all soft fabrics and dark wood, high windows and piles of toys. In an alcove of the nursery was a table and chairs, there were loveseats and a chaise, a desk stocked with quills and parchment, and a door leading to a small bedroom suite. Waiting in the nursery was a little crib.
"Jack?" Draco appeared around the door.
"Oh, hey. Just writing the letter to your parents. About time I got around to this." I put the quill down, hoisting myself out of the chair. He wrapped his arms around me, gently stroking my stomach.
"You're so beautiful."
"Why thank you," I smiled. "Despite my big belly?"
"Because of your big belly." He knelt down and kissed it gently. I giggled as he ran his hands over it. "You're incredible."
"You're tickling." He was fascinated by my bulbous stomach. He would stroke it whenever he could, pressing against if, feeling for a kick. I was massive at this point, barely able to move. He took his hands from my more ticklish parts, instead, rubbing my shoulders. "So, you're going to need maternity dresses for Christmas."
"I know your family's used to taking dinner in formal dress, but-"
"No buts." He shook his head at me. "It's what they're used to, and they expect it of you."
"Alright, fine. But we're not eating in the formal dining room."
"Alright. That's-" He looked at me suddenly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Draco. I… I..." I felt something release, and liquid cascaded down my legs. I looked at him, fear in my eyes. He understood.
The letter addressed to the Malfoys started in my loopy, spidery handwriting, then suddenly cut off. Draco's precise letters took up the rest of the page.
Come now. She's in labor.
They called it labor for a reason.
Healers apparated into my bedroom, rushing around me. I paced around, the contractions racking my body. Uncle and Draco were there, and Draco's parents were outside the room, anxiously awaiting their grandchild, and to Druella Black, great-grandchild. The room was so crowded that they were not allowed in. There were two healers to make sure everything went well, and the midwife to help me give birth, along with Draco and Uncle for moral support. Their green robes swirled as they rushed around. For hours they coached me, telling me to walk around, breath, until it became time to push.
I laid on the bed, my knees up and my legs apart in a decidedly undignified position. Draco held one of my hands, Uncle another. I gasped and strained, tears streaming from my eyes. "D-Draco," I gasped, looking at him.
"You're doing wonderfully," he said, but his voice was shaking, his eyes wide with fear. He was not convincing.
I don't know how much longer it was until crying filled the room.
I was elated at that first cry. It was the most unimaginable joy. The baby was toweled off and handed to me; a little boy with soft dark hair, staring up at me with his father's eyes. He stopped wailing for a second to reach up and touch my face. My cheeks were wet with tears, and I smiled down at him.
"Hello, Corvus," I whispered. I looked up at Draco, who was staring at the child. "I… Draco… we have a son."
Draco said nothing, only reaching down to touch Corvus's cheek.
Corvus Edmund Armand Harcourt Malfoy was born in the late afternoon, a few days before Christmas. "I am glad you carried on the Black tradition of names," said Draco's grandmother. Corvus was the name of a constellation, the Crow, and the other names were from Draco and mine's families.
I nodded, stroking Corvus's soft, feathery hair. He was an alert baby, eyes wide and staring. I was breastfeeding him, a blanket over my shoulder to protect my modesty. I kissed my baby on the forehead, then pulled my blouse up and gently laid him in his crib. "There we go, baby, time to get some sleep. There we go, little crow." I had always admired the birds for their intelligence and magical qualities. I smiled at my husband. He pulled me close, kissing my hair. "You must be exhausted."
"Like you wouldn't believe."
"Go to bed. I'll get a healer-"
"No, no. I want to stay with him." I smiled at the crib. "My baby."
Draco smiled, caressing Corvus's cheek with the tip of his finger. "Our baby."
