Rodolphus trembled with agitation, his mind clouded with worry. Rabastan and Harry had been gone for two days, leaving him alone to deal with the ever-growing discomfort that seemed to worsen by the hour. A sharp pain tore through him, and he collapsed onto the bed, gritting his teeth to stifle a cry. His entire body ached, cold sweat dripping down his forehead. Two days ago, he had convinced himself the contractions were false alarms—but now… now, they felt different. Harsher. More frequent. Unrelenting.
He tried to steady his breathing, but panic clawed at his chest as another wave of pain hit. Why did they have to be gone? he thought desperately. Why can't they come back now?
Another sharp, tearing pain surged through him, stealing his breath. Gasping, he clutched his stomach, the world spinning around him. His legs felt weak, barely able to support him as he staggered out of the bedroom, desperate for help.
"When are Harry and Rabastan coming back?" he demanded, his voice shaky with fear and frustration. His wide, glassy eyes darted around the dining room, searching for an anchor.
Tom, seated with Lucius, looked up in surprise. His expression quickly shifted from mild curiosity to deep concern. "They'll be back this evening. Are you all right?"
Rodolphus groaned, shaking his head. "Why can't they come back now?" he snapped, his voice laced with panic.
Lucius frowned, concern darkening his sharp features. "Rodolphus, what's wrong?"
Before he could answer, another contraction slammed into him. His knees buckled. He lurched forward, catching himself on a chair. "Shit," he hissed through clenched teeth, his face paling.
Tom was on his feet instantly, gripping Rodolphus's arm before he could collapse. "What was that?"
Lucius's eyes widened. "Was that a contraction?"
Rodolphus panted, sweat trickling down his face. "I—I don't know. They've been getting worse since this morning." His voice cracked with exhaustion. "I've been having them for two days."
Tom's expression darkened. "Two days? Rodolphus, why the hell didn't you say anything?"
Before he could respond, his body jerked violently as another contraction hit like a curse, ripping through him. He groaned loudly, doubling over in agony. Oh God. His stomach clenched, nausea rising fast. He barely had time to turn his head before he retched, vomiting onto the floor. His vision blurred, and the world tilted dangerously.
The door burst open.
Harry and Rabastan rushed in, their faces etched with alarm. They had returned early—but the sight of Rodolphus crumpled on the floor, trembling and pale, sent a fresh wave of panic through them.
Harry sprinted to his side, dropping to his knees. "Rodolphus, what happened?!" he asked frantically, voice breaking with worry.
Rodolphus barely registered the question before another contraction seized him, his whole body trembling as he clutched his stomach.
Harry's heart pounded. "Rabastan, call the healer! Now!"
Rabastan didn't hesitate. He pulled out his wand, sending a quick summons. Within seconds, a healer appeared, her expression immediately shifting to urgency.
"Rodolphus, what are you feeling?" she asked, eyes scanning his condition.
He gasped for breath. "Pain—wrapping around my back and stomach." Another contraction ripped through him, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Too soon. He looked down, blinking in confusion at the sudden wetness pooling beneath him.
The healer's expression turned grim. "That was your water. You're in labor."
Rodolphus's breath hitched. Labor. Now. Oh, hell.
The healer's voice sharpened. "How long have you been feeling this?"
His voice was tight. "Two days."
Her eyes widened. "We need to move you—now. Can you walk?"
Rodolphus nodded weakly, but his gaze flickered toward Harry and Rabastan, silently pleading for support. "Harry… help me."
Harry was at his side in an instant, wrapping an arm around Rodolphus's waist. They barely made it to the hallway before another contraction struck. Rodolphus's grip tightened painfully around Harry's hand.
"This hurts," he growled, his voice laced with panic.
Harry swallowed his own fear and tried to soothe him. "Breathe, Rodolphus. You have to breathe through it."
Rodolphus shot him a sharp glare, his face twisted with pain. "Fuck you."
They reached the bedroom just as another contraction tore through him. Rodolphus stumbled, his body shaking violently, unable to hold himself up.
"Fuck!" he screamed, his voice raw. "It won't stop!"
The healer moved quickly, hands pressing against his abdomen. "When you feel the need to push, push."
Two more contractions wracked his body, each one worse than the last. The overwhelming urge to push slammed into him. Rodolphus seized Harry and Rabastan's hands, squeezing hard as he screamed through the pain.
"Good," the healer encouraged, her voice calm but urgent. "Again."
He pushed. Again. And again. Until a searing, burning sensation—the ring of fire—nearly broke him.
Tears streamed down his face. "No more," he whimpered.
But with one last, desperate cry, he summoned his remaining strength—
—And pushed.
A final wave of agony—then release.
Then… nothing.
The pain, the exhaustion, the fear—everything faded as darkness swallowed him whole.
