(𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑) 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Chapter 5

Chapter 6: "A Time for Fallout"

(Crying Over) Spilt Potions

by Azhure

~~oo0oo~~

Chapter 5: A Time for Fallout

Draco woke slowly as he felt the chill air assault his nose. He didn't open his eyes, just pulled the comforter up further around his shoulders and buried his nose deep in its downy softness. For a moment, he felt disoriented, but as his mind slowly crept close to wakefulness, a familiar taste in the back of his mouth returned, and the nausea was back again. He groaned into the pillow at the feeling, willing it to go away.

A split second later, Draco vividly remembered why he felt nauseous. I'm pregnant, he thought with unreserved pleasure. Draco tried to move an arm down to his bilious stomach, but felt nothing more than the sudden pain of his broken ribs. The memory of his Quidditch fall came hurdling back into his memory. Along with the revelation he was pregnant, Draco recalled Madame Pomfrey's inability to fix his broken bones magically, for fear of harming the baby.

The baby. My baby. Our baby. Draco smiled at the thought. He had been totally floored at first by Madame Pomfrey's declaration of his condition. Floored, but then delighted, then utterly scared. In the cold, dim pre-morning light, Draco was back to romanticising the notion of his pregnancy. Today would be the day he would tell Harry, and they could then decide what they would do.

The wave of nausea passed, and Draco snuggled back into his pillow. Madame Pomfrey had run a battery of tests on Draco to find out why he had fallen from his broom, and why with such a fall, he had not damaged himself any further. It was only by chance that she ran a pregnancy test. Not only was the medi-witch stunned by the fact that the young wizard was indeed pregnant; Draco had disbelieved her initial diagnosis. He wanted pain killing potions, and he wanted them on the spot. She was dithering around and telling him how wonderful it was, and Draco had been lying there in agony from what he thought was several thousand broken bones.

Despite the fall, Draco had only broken three ribs, and had cracked his wrist upon impact. The medi-witch explained how the baby was syphoning Draco's magic to protect itself, and it had been doing so since conception. The fact his broom handling skills were below par was the baby's way of discouraging him from getting on a broom and placing himself in more danger. When Draco did inevitably fall, his magic strung itself out to protect his body, and the baby as much as possible. The pain he was experiencing was most likely his muscles and joints having to return to their normal state after they had been suddenly struck with protective magic that had absorbed the shock as he fell and impacted on the ground.

He would have to wait for his ribs and his wrist to heal naturally, which would require his stay in the infirmary for at least another couple of weeks. Draco couldn't recall the beds ever feeling this good before, and he could not recall putting on his silk pyjamas before he fell asleep. Indeed, he had been wearing his cotton ones. The feel of the silk against his sensitive skin, his nipples in particular, hurt more than aroused him.

At the mere thought of his sensitised skin against the silk, Draco felt uncomfortable, and quickly realised that he was totally surrounded by the luxurious fabric. He frowned, and his bare feet kicked the silken fabric engulfing him. This wasn't the bed he remembered falling asleep in. He opened his eyes to the unexpected, but extremely familiar sight of the plush canopy over his own four poster bed at Malfoy Manor. Why am I here? Draco thought, his mind still in a sleep befuddled fog.