Double Trouble || Draco Malfoy x Reader

The Astronomy Tower || chapter one-hundred and eighteen

As the days passed, my morning sickness gradually worsened. It developed in a way that lasted longer and felt ten times worse. If I'd known it would feel this bad, I might've considered making Draco use a condom. Too late now, I thought as I woke up at the brink of dawn that morning, my head dunked in a toilet.

Draco dropped in minutes later, finding me too weak to move as the stale scent of sick filled my nose. He'd always be up and out of bed the second he felt me stir. Every morning was just the same. He would wake up, walk into the bathroom and find me half-conscious.

Helping ease my head out of the toilet, Draco crouched down and gathered me in his arms, a grinding pain throbbing along the base of my skull. I was tired, so, so tired. Only a minute later, I ended up weeping in his arms as he muttered a faint cleaning charm under his breath, removing all of the excess sick from my soiled bed-shirt.

Still I wept, a wet cloth in Draco's right hand as he wiped around my mouth. When he was finished, my head rolled forward and ended up on his shoulder. He didn't protest. Instead, he slowly brought a hand to the back of my head and supported me against him.

He stayed, and that was all I needed. For him to stay.

When I did however manage to make it back into bed, Draco kept close. He would stop at the side of the bed and take a seat besides me, looking down at the little ball that had become of my body. We never had to say a word during these moments. His presence was enough.

Our days spent in actual lessons decreased dramatically, and even when I did feel okay, he was still hesitant to go. All he wanted was to stay with me.

Fortunately, it wasn't all bad. Some mornings I managed to wake up without any sickness. I may have been tired but I was well, and that was all that mattered.

On these days Draco would crawl over me and cradle my face in his hands. He littered feathery kisses everywhere he could reach, his hands slowly sneaking down to my waist. Then, when the time was right he would slowly but surely lower my pyjama bottoms, bury his head in between my legs and end up with my hands tangled in his hair.

On the best days, Draco would take things a step further. For the first few weeks, he was still pretty rough when he wanted to be. But as the weeks dragged on, the word rough became a thing of the past as he began to treat me like glass.

He would take a strand of hair in between his fingers and move it out of my face, his touch as soft as a feather. Or he'd grab my hands and lace our fingers together, always wanting to be intertwined. And if I did decide to venture beyond our room to the library, Draco wouldn't even allow me to lift a book he deemed too heavy.

But that was hardly even the start of it.

One trip to St Mungo's later, Draco didn't know how to act. Although six— nearly seven weeks into pregnancy wasn't much, he sought it to be a big deal. He hardly felt he had the time to spare a blink.

Especially now. A few weeks have passed since Draco's birthday and the end of the year was approaching. And it was approaching fast.

So that morning when my eyes lazily peeled themselves open, I was surprised to find the room around me still dark. Usually for this time of year, rays of sunlight blasted through the windows with its golden glow, but this morning the glass panes were blocked over with a cloud of gloom.

One slow stretch of my arms later, I prop myself against the bed with my elbows, my eyes directed towards the window. There was a light bout of rain thrumming against the glass, the sun blocked from sight.

A lazy yawn found its way out from between my lips, and before I could even notice, a cold hand slid towards my stomach. Draco slowly lifted his head up, eyes blinking into near-slits.