Chapter 6
The sun was barely above the horizon, but Draco was already up scribbling a note to Lucius about receiving the final owl late last night and an open invitation to meet the midwife before the actual birth. He didn’t want to wait for Lucius’ approval since it would interfere with his plans. Placing the quill back in the inkbottle, Draco straightened and felt several muscles complain loudly. Sighing deeply, he wished he’d been able to get more sleep. Between Sara’s glowing eyes and his cramping muscles, he’d barely gotten in six hours.
“You’re getting too big,” he growled, glaring down at his belly.
Placing the note in the center of the desk where Lucius was sure to find it, Draco turned around and grabbed his broom. Moving to one of the bookshelves in the study, he came face to face with a wooden bust. Yellow eyes squinted down at him from just above the bust’s receding hairline. Reaching up, Draco plucked his guide off it. Sara glared at him as he uprooted her from her perch. Draco hoped Lucius wouldn’t notice that his great great grandfather now had tiny talon marks in his hair.
“Come owl. Let’s go.” He wasn’t looking forward to this flight. His body was already aching. I’ve gained too much weight to be doing this. He thought looking at the slim handle of his broom. But I have no choice.
Leaving the study, Draco made his way to the front door. Navigating down the stairs slowly, he waited until he was on the lawn before straddling the broom. Tossing Sara into the air, he took a deep breath before kicking off from the ground. He felt the Nimbus 3000 shudder once before resigning itself to the load. Sara flew a few circles around him before shooting off towards the west. Taking it as a sign, he pointed the broom in that direction and followed.
In front of him the horizon loomed dark and foreboding. Clouds gathered together forming larger thunderheads.
“Just my luck,” Draco muttered, catching up to the tiny owl. “I hate being wet.”
Heather O’Toole scrubbed her kitchen table as storm clouds rolled in off the coast. Typical Irish winter weather, she thought, dropping the sponge in the sink.
Technically winter didn’t start for another month, but late November showed many signs of the season to come. Glancing at her fire, she considered bringing more wood inside. There was no telling when her guest might arrive and with the weather being as it was, he would need the warmth.
As if on cue, the rain began. Frowning, Heather hurried outside to fetch a load before the weather became completely miserable.
“I hope Sara canna find her ‘ere before it gets too bad,” she said, setting the wood by the hearth. Shaking the rain off her cloak, she hung it up by the fire to dry.
Walking back to her linen closest, she pulled out several soft, dry towels before going back to cleaning. Fifteen minutes later she heard a knock on the door. Opening it, she stepped back as Sara flitted in leaving a cold and soaked young man carrying a broom on the doorstep.
“Well, I was wonderin’ if you’d get caught in that mess,” Heather said, ushering the pale blond in. “You shouldna be out in this weather. Now let’s get these clothes off. No sense freezing both you an’ the child.”
Draco waddled past her uncomfortably, his legs stiff from the trip. Closing the door behind him, Heather watched his movements carefully. He was late in his third trimester. He shoulda been doin’ this weeks ago, she thought crossly. I always wanta see’em before this late, ta get ta know’em an’ such. She needed to examine him immediately to make sure he’d been taking care of himself and the baby. First though, she had to remove his wet clothes and get him warmed up.
Walking over she began to undress him. Draco regarded the older Irish woman oddly as she went about unbuttoning his robes.
“I can do that myself,” he pointed out, shivering as he spoke. She nodded, letting him finish. Numb fingers completed the task as water dripped from Draco’s short-cropped hair. Once the robes were off, Heather hung them by the fire and gave him a dry towel. He was wearing nothing but what she construed to be underwear and that wouldn’t do in her mind.
“I think I ‘ave some extra nightshirts in your size lyin’ around,” she said, taking the damp towel back. “You never know when you’ll need’em. I’ll get’em. An’ take off your shoes, wet feet will make ya colder.”
Draco did as he was told, too tired to protest. Moments later, she returned with the shirt. He quickly put it on while she waited.
“Now, let’s get down to business. I’m Heather O’Toole, witch and midwife. You I trust are Draco Malfoy?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good, now let’s see how far along ya are.”
Draco flinched as she came near, but he knew he had to let her look. It was embarrassing to have her concentrate all her attention on his swollen belly, but Heather was a midwife and this was her job he reminded himself. I just wish the throbbing pain in my back would stop, he whimpered mentally.
The throbbing had started mid flight, steadily growing worse as time progressed. His body wasn’t comfortable flying with the parasite’s added weight. The rain had only served to aggravate his already miserable condition.
Heather lifted his nightshirt above the bulge so she could work more effectively. Placing her hands on his middle, she ran them down the sides. Then she pressed against him in strategic places. Her face changed from inquisitive to perplexed as she did. Moving back, she studied his entire form.
“When exactly did ya say you were due?” She asked after a few minutes contemplation.
“I stated in my letter that it was December second.” Draco replied. “Why?” He arched one eyebrow at her.
“Because that babe’s already dropped.”
“Excuse me?” He had no idea what she meant.
Heather sighed. She was dealing with a man who knew nothing about childbirth. That in of its self wasn’t unusual, but as the expectant ‘mother’, Draco should know something. Still, his letter had held a definite lack of proper parental excitement. It was as if he’d rather be rid of the child than accept it as a gift.
“Babes drop down inta the pelvis when they’re ready ta be born. This way, they’re right by the birth canal. Your babe’s already done this. Which means it’s ready ta come inta this world,” Heather explained.
“How soon?” Draco asked in an anxious whisper. His face clearly saying he wasn’t prepared for this news.
“Probably ‘nother few days or so, hard ta tell though. I donna know when it dropped, so I couldna tell ya for sure.”
Draco sucked in his breath as a tremor ran down from his belly to his back. That had been a particular painful one. Rubbing his lower back, he prayed the cramps would stop.
Heather noticed this and came forward to touch his stomach again. Taking her hand away she nodded once and headed to the guest room. Draco managed to sit down in a chair as he waited for her to return. Taking several deep breaths he hoped the twinges would subside if he weren’t on his feet. Leaning against the cushioned back, he sat in front of the fire warming himself.
“Draco, I want ya to walk ‘round the room.” She called out to him.
“Why?” He’d just gotten comfortable and didn’t particularly want to move.
“Cause it’ll help speed things up.”
“What things?” He asked, not positive he wanted to know the answer.
“Your labor,” Heather replied nonchalantly. “Donna worry, I’ve delivered four others like yourself.”
“WHAT?” He hoped he’d misheard her.
“I said not ta worry; I’ll get the birthin’ bed ready for ya.”
“Birthing bed. Labor.” Draco felt a rising panic as he began to understand what she was saying.
“You’re already in the early stages o’ labor it looks like. I’d say another ‘our or so and you’ll definitely be feelin’ it. Hopefully before midnight we’lla hear the voice of a newborn babe.”
Pulling himself to his feet, Draco felt another spasm. Wincing at the increased pain, he shot a scared look towards the doorway where Heather had disappeared. The graying redhead was right; he was in labor. Probably had been from this morning. Wasn’t his water supposed to break or something? If it had during the rainy flight I wouldn’t have noticed. I was already soaked, he told himself, taking several deep breaths.
“How’re your breasts?” Heather asked coming back into the room. “Are they sore? Although the male anatomy isna equipped ta lactate under normal circumstances, they’ll when they’re under the influence of Hathor’s Kiss. Specifically it’ll produce colostrum. That’s got’ll the antibodies needed to protect the babe from diseases.”
Draco didn’t need to touch them to tell that they ached. Now that he’d thawed out from the cold flight across to Ireland he could feel them. They were tender and raw under his shirt as they filled with colostrum for the baby. Everything was happening too quickly. He had another week, why was his body doing this to him? The lingering pain of his last contraction didn’t give him any choice though. Swallowing, Draco had to accept the inevitable. The child would be born tonight and there was no way to stop it.