Poison Ivy || Draco Malfoy

62 - The Sun, the Moon and the Stars

It was Percy's fault.

But then again, all of this was.

On the day that he attacked me in the studio, he'd kicked me in the side, cracking my ribs.

Most of them healed by themselves over time, but, unbeknownst to me and the Healers who had checked me over, one splintered rib was sticking dangerously close to my spleen. It was the one rib that had not healed.

It moved during labour. It pierced my spleen.

I was too far gone to be prepped for surgery. I needed to push the baby out fast whilst I slowly bled to death inside. I needed to get the baby out to ensure it's chance of survival.

But I was getting weaker and weaker by the second. I couldn't push anymore. I was so tired and I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep.

Just fall asleep forever.

*****

"Can't you go any fucking faster?"

Draco wanted to scream, no, he wanted to rip the head off the taxi driver and drive the fucking car himself, despite having no idea how.

"Sorry, no can do, mate," the man shrugged unapologetically. "It's the traffic you see. It's not like I can just magic it away."

"Forget it," Draco snarled, throwing a twenty down on the passenger seat and wrenching the car door open.

Cars blared their horns all around him as he navigated himself through the gridlocked traffic across the road.

How he loathed this stupid city, and how he loathed being forced to live like a fucking Muggle. It was all because of this that he was afraid he wouldn't reach her in time, that he'd be too late.

He no longer cared about the risk of his own life, knowing that he'd rather die than never see Ivy again. He was desperate to hold her in his arms one last time and tell her how much he loved her; tell her before it was too late.

So he ran; he ran as fast as he could, until he finally reached the entrance to St Mungo's, breathlessly declaring his intention to the mannequin of the derelict looking shop before walking through the window.

He skidded and he slid up the corridors, pushing people aside as he made his way frantically to the maternity department; his heart in his throat the entire time, terrified he was too late.

Blaise tried to stop him, of course he did.

"The baby could be his!" Blaise bellowed, trying to forcibly restrain him. "You could die, man!"

"I don't give a fuck!" Draco thundered, his whole body shaking in an adamant fury. "She needs me and I'm going to be there for her, no matter what!"

He pushed Blaise out of the way, barely noticing Pansy weeping quietly on a chair in the corner.

And then he stormed into the room, and there she was. And he was, after all this time, finally by her side.

*****

There was a commotion at the door. Someone was trying to get in.

"Whoever it is, get rid of them!" Marge barked angrily.

The Healers by the door started protesting, trying to order the intruder away.

"I'm the father! She needs me!"

My heart stilled. I knew that voice, I knew that voice so well.

"Draco?" I said weakly, wondering if I was dead and this was my heaven.

But it couldn't be because I was still in so much pain.

And then, all of a sudden, he was there, diving down by my side; the beautiful white-blond haired Slytherin I had loved throughout my whole life.

"Ivy," he choked through his strangled gasps, wrapping his arms around me and furiously pressing his lips down repeatedly on the top of my head. "I love you, I love you so much."

"Draco, no," I cried frantically as I found myself clinging to him hard, pressing my face into his neck as fearful sobs wracked my body, "what have you done?! You could die."

"I don't fucking care," he said adamantly, pulling back to cup my face in his long, slender fingers; his silver grey eyes burning intently into mine, "I'd die a thousand times for you. It's too late, anyway - I'm here now. All I care about is you and I'm going to help you through this. I won't let you die, Ivy. I won't."

"This is all very endearing," Marge interrupted sternly, looking as though she had swallowed a wasp, "but if we don't get this baby out now, the local coffin shop will be having a field day."

Draco gave a serious, curt nod, immediately repositioning himself on the bed so he could support me, holding me up in his arms.

"Use me, Ivy," he murmured fervidly, "hold onto me and we'll get you through this. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you," I wept, my arms tightening around him as another contraction started to gather momentum, the pain tearing through me like a knife.

But he didn't flinch, didn't let go; just allowed me to bury my face in his chest as I screamed through the pain, holding me tightly to him and whispering words of encouragement in my ear.

"You can do this, Ivy," he said vehemently, his voice like medicine; the familiar tones soothing and calming me, "I believe in you. Just hang in there."

And I suddenly found that I could. As Marge bellowed at me to push, I did. I did so for my baby and for Draco who had just risked his life to be with me.

"Don't give up on me," Draco kept repeating in my ear as I pushed beyond the agony, squeezing my eyes tight shut and feeling my body literally rip in two, "don't you dare give up on me, Ivy."

I focused on him, on how much I loved him. I forced myself to remember the night of the Yule ball when I had stood out in the freezing cold, watching him. I recalled the way my fingers and toes had turned blue, and the agony I had felt from the breaking of my heart as I watched him dance with my sister.

I remembered that, despite the pain, I had stayed and watched him; I watched him because he was beautiful and I didn't want to watch anything else.

He is all I see. He is the sun, the moon and the stars. He is my everything.

So I hang onto life; I hang on for him because I'd given so much to finally be in his arms and I won't let anything take that away from me after I'd fought so hard to get here.

A baby's cries filled the room.

And then, just like that, after all these years, Draco Malfoy stopped being my everything.

For, as we both simultaneously lifted our heads from our tight embrace, we were greeted to the sight of a tiny wriggling human cradled in Marge's outstretched hands.

A tiny pale baby with wisps of white-blond hair and twinkling silver grey eyes.

Our son.

******