Fic: "Precipice," Pt. 1 [H/D]
.
A little something I wrote over the weekend :)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Category: Futurefic/War, Angst, Established Relationship, mpreg, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: So very much not mine.
Summary: You can only go so far before you fall.
This is a sequel to In Those Days, but works as a standalone as well, I think.
Unbetaed, and concrit is more than welcome. Feedback would be lovely, too :)
Thanks to amchau and angryhamster for answering a few britpicking questions.
~*~*~
"Bedroom, straight ahead, through the living room," instructed Hermione from behind Harry just after they’d entered her flat.
"'Kay." Harry tightened his hold on Draco, who was stumbling along rather than walking. "Just a bit further, love, I promise, just a bit…"
Draco whimpered, sagging against Harry.
Realising they were wasting precious time, Harry scooped Draco into his arms and quickly made it down the hall into the living room. A tattered couch to his right, two large windows in the opposite wall, double glass doors leading to kitchen to his left, a large desk strewn with parchments in the middle of the room, assorted bookshelves lining all available wall space, but where was-
"Come on!" Hermione pushed past him and rounded a particularly large bookshelf that protruded about half a metre into the room, effectively cutting off sight of the bedroom door behind, as Harry noticed when he took after Hermione.
Harry carefully lowered Draco onto the bed.
"I’ll be right back," Hermione said, disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. Door half-way closed behind her, she turned back around. "Would you mind taking off…" She waved her hand into Draco’s direction.
"Oh, sure." Harry bent down to undo the buttons on Draco’s cloak, silently cursing his shaking fingers.
"No, his shoes, Harry!"
Small puddles of mud were forming around Draco’s boots on the light yellow duvet.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled.
Hermione sighed. "'s alright." The door shut behind her with a soft click, rather than a loud bang.
Harry carried Draco’s boots over into the living room, setting them down on the wooden floor, and toed off his own shoes so as not to soil the carpet in the bedroom more than he already had. On his way back, he noticed that Hermione’s bedroom was just as sparsely furnished as her living room: besides the bed, there was only a wardrobe and an armchair, which overflowed with discarded clothes. Harry threw his coat on top, and glanced at the photos tacked on the wall, his gaze lingering first on a picture of himself, Hermione, and Ron; then on another, of Hogwarts, taken from the opposite side of the lake.
The bathroom door opened, and Harry spun around, meeting Hermione’s eyes for a moment before they moved past him, to the photos, and back to meet his gaze.
"Give me a hand?" She asked quietly.
Harry nodded and crossed over to the bed, where Draco had curled up on his side, eyes closed. Hermione had changed into robes-the kind of robes healers at St. Mungo’s wore, Harry thought-and had pulled back her hair into a tight bun.
"Take off his cloak, and his jumper, too," Hermione said, as she carefully rolled Draco onto his back. "Draco, can you open your eyes for me?"
Draco muttered something incoherent.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Hermione press a hand to Draco’s forehead, then draw her wand, whispering under her breath. Harry pushed the cloak off Draco’s shoulders and reached for the hem of his jumper.
"39.5, dehydrated, disoriented," Hermione said, more to herself than to Harry, he suspected, when she absent-mindedly helped him to pull the jumper over Draco’s arms and head, tossing it aside. She took a step backwards. "Not good at all, possibly even pneu-"
"What?" The way Hermione stared at Draco’s belly set off all alarm bells in Harry’s head. "What is it?"
Hermione turned to look at Harry. "I didn’t know."
Harry frowned. "You…what? How can you not know? Everyone-"
"There was gossip, yes," Hermione cut in sharply. "You should know I don’t listen to that rubbish."
"What about Remus?"
"What about him?"
"He knows. About the baby. We, well, Draco told him, at Christmas, when we came to the Burrow."
"Oh." Hermione’s gaze fell away from Harry. "He didn’t say anything, didn’t even mention he’d talked to you."
"He came after us. After...Molly had sent us away."
Hermione didn't say anything in return, just pocketed her wand. "I need to look up a few things."
"But what about-" Harry nodded in Draco’s direction. "You said he’s got a fever. Don’t you want to find out what’s wrong with him? I’d already sort of figured out--"
Hermione held up one hand. "Of course I want to properly examine Draco. That’s why I need check a few books, to see what kinds of spells won’t hurt the baby." Hermione started walking towards the living room.
"But she’s okay?"
"She? It’s a girl?"
Harry nodded.
"I…think so," Hermione replied slowly. "Did Draco say something? That something was wrong?"
"He said that he hadn’t felt her move in a while." Harry tried to keep his voice as even as possible.
Hermione’s eyes widened a fraction. "When? How long has it been?"
Harry swallowed. "This morning, and he didn’t say. I don’t even know…Draco’s been ill for a few days now, so maybe he wasn’t as aware of it as he usually is."
"Draco’s been this sick and you’re only getting help now?" Hermione glared at Harry.
That wasn’t fair, and Hermione knew it. As if he could have simply taken Draco to a healer. Even contacting her had been a considerable risk. "Can we talk about that later? I need to know if… is there anything you can do right now to make sure that she’s-" Harry broke off, his throat too tight to speak.
The slight flush on Hermione’s cheeks was a tell-tale sign that she was on the brink of a major outburst, but the only thing she said was a terse, "Yes." She drew her wand. "This spell’s safe," she pointed out, anticipating Harry’s question.
The incantation was unfamiliar to Harry, but seemed to be a derivative of Sonorus. At first there was only a low humming in the air, then the tones separated out until they formed a fast-paced rhythm.
"Is that..?" Harry whispered.
Hermione nodded. "The baby’s heartbeat. It’s a bit slow-"
"Slow?"
"It should be faster, but there’s no reason to worry, at least not for now."
Harry sat down on the bed, taking Draco’s hand into his own. Draco’s eyelids fluttered, but remained closed. "What d'you mean, for now?"
"I need to draw up a full diagnosis before I can tell you more. Finite Incantatem."
Harry wished Hermione were less formal about matters so close to his heart. Maybe it was her way of dealing with Harry crashing into her life again, after they’d drifted apart for the better part of last year and three months of no communication whatsoever at the end of it, aside from that shared look across the Weasley’s hall at Christmas. It might be easier for her to take on the role of healer for now, leaving everything else, such as the mess that was their friendship, aside until later.
Harry startled when he felt Hermione’s hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry." Her hand fell away. "I called your name, but you didn’t respond. I’ll check a few references now. I won’t be long, but if you need me, I’ll be in my study. It’s off the hall." She picked up a paperweight that sat on the bedside locker and turned to leave. "Oh, and one more thing: don’t do any magic, please. I can explain later, but it’s complicated so I’d rather not right now, if you don’t mind?"
Confused, but too tired and worried to care, Harry shook his head. When Hermione was gone, he turned his attention back to Draco. Reaching over to the other side of the bed, Harry grasped the duvet and loosely tucked it around Draco, who immediately started pushing away the blanket.
Harry stilled Draco’s hands. "Shhh, you’ll be cold. Just leave it up to here, okay?" He pulled the duvet back up to Draco’s waist.
"Hot," Draco whispered.
"I know, love. I’ll--" Harry looked at the bathroom door, "I’ll be right back."
Harry let the water run until it felt icy under his fingers, one eye always on Draco, who was struggling with the blanket again. It had twisted around his legs, becoming more tangled the more Draco was kicking at it. He groaned in frustration, or in pain, or both, Harry couldn’t tell.
"Shit." Harry grabbed a small towel off a shelf next to the sink, shoved it under the tap, twisting and turning it to soak faster.
Water dripped all over the floor and carpet as Harry hurried back to the bed, dropping the wet towel on the drawer so he could help Draco with the blanket. Disentangling it proved difficult because Draco wouldn’t stop squirming, not even after Harry firmly grasped his thigh.
"Stop, or…argh!" Harry hesitated to put more force into his grasp, afraid he might hurt Draco. "You’re only making it worse! Just--" He pressed down a little harder, regretting it instantly when Draco cried out. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, shhh…" Harry let go of Draco’s leg and reached for his shoulders instead, as gently as he could. "Draco, listen to me, I’m going to take it off, okay, then you’ll feel better, but you have to lie still for just a moment, will you?"
Draco groaned, but settled down. Harry held his shoulders until he could be sure Draco wouldn’t immediately start fidgeting again once he let go, taking in the visibly racing pulse and the fine sheen of sweat covering his face. Releasing Draco’s shoulders, Harry ran his hands down his arms and side, then stripped away the blanket. "See, this wasn’t so hard, now, was it?"
Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the towel, folding it twice. He briefly held it against Draco’s forehead, then smoothed it over the sides of his face, pushing strands of hair out of the way, down his neck and under the collar of his shirt.
A moan slipped past Draco’s lips.
"Feels good, hmm?" Harry asked, repeating the same path with the towel twice before refolding it to make sure the coldest part could rest against Draco’s forehead. Once in place, Harry took Draco’s hand again, rubbing small circles over the back of his hand. Draco’s eyelids fluttered again, and to Harry’s surprise, opened this time.
"Hey." Harry forced a smile on his face.
Draco blinked a few times. "Where?"
"At Hermione’s."
Draco drew a sharp breath. "Herm--Baby?"
"She’s fine," Harry hastily assured him.
"Don’t…no lies."
Harry touched Draco’s cheek, waiting until grey eyes met his own. "I promise."
Uncertainty lingered in Draco’s eyes.
"Hermione let me hear her heartbeat, so don’t worry, all right?"
"You…you heard?"
Harry nodded. "I’m sure Hermione can do the spell again when she gets back. She’s just looking up a few things."
Draco rested his free hand on his belly, a strained look on his face.
"What’s wrong?" Harry asked.
"Hurts," Draco whispered, rolling onto his side.
"Where?" Harry asked, catching the towel as it slid off Draco’s face. It felt warm in his hand, so he dropped it on the drawer.
"Head…chest…back…everywhere. Chest’s the worst." Draco’s eyes closed again.
Harry didn’t know what to say, loathe to comfort Draco with empty phrases about everything getting better soon. A few strands of hair had fallen over Draco’s face again, so Harry pushed them back, then repeating the gesture in the hope it might feel soothing, or maybe because it gave him the sense of doing something that helped.
What took Hermione this long? Was it really this hard to look up a few spells? Shouldn’t there be a list of which ones not to use on pregnant…people? Quite possibly that was the exact problem here, that Draco’s pregnancy was so far outside of the norm that Hermione didn’t have any clear information, had to dig in footnotes and cross-references. On the other hand, Hermione had always been good at finding out obscure things, and really, male pregnancy wasn’t that unusual. After all, even Harry had heard about it before being personally faced with the situation.
"Wards," Draco said suddenly, struggling to open his eyes again.
"Hmm?"
"Wards, on the flat, you checked?"
Fuck, that hadn’t even occurred to Harry. "No, I-"
Draco’s hand tensed against Harry’s fingers. "But you asked…what kind?"
Harry shook his head.
"No? No wards?" Draco’s shoulders rose and fell with rapid breaths.
"I’ve no idea, but I bet Hermione only has the best-"
"How can you…take me here, and no idea if...if..." Draco tried to sit up, but Harry pushed him back down, or at least, tried, the strength behind Draco’s resistance taking him by surprise.
"Calm down, I’ll ask her as soon as-"
Draco only became more agitated. "Where’s she? How d'you know," Draco coughed, "if she’s not firecalling the aur-" The remainder of the sentence was swallowed by more coughing. Draco collapsed on his side, clutching at his chest.
Harry’s stomach twisted at the sight. "For fuck’s sake, Draco, Hermione would never do that!"
Draco tried to speak, but only managed to cough.
"Don’t, you’re hurting yourself," Harry pleaded, rubbing Draco’s back. The coughing subsided, and Harry sighed with relief when Draco tensed all of sudden, his hand crushing Harry’s fingers together.
"Draco?"
A sob escaped Draco’s throat, then his body went limp.
"Draco!" Harry gently shook his shoulder, to no avail. After reassuring himself that Draco was still breathing, at least, he bolted through the living room into hall, almost falling into the study when he pushed open the door.
Hermione was bent over several large books, quill in hand. "What?"
"It’s Draco, he passed out, can you-"
"Take these." Hermione shoved a book and several vials into his hands before reaching for the paperweight and her wand. On the way to the bedroom, she picked up a piece of parchment from the living room table.
Harry watched silently as Hermione went to work on Draco. Book and potions set up on the drawer, she cast the first spell, cryptic symbols and colours appearing on the parchment that levitated about a metre over Draco’s head.
"What does it say?" Harry asked.
Not taking her eyes off the parchment, Hermione replied, "Just his vitals, and the baby’s."
"And?"
"I…I need to know a bit more about his general condition before I can give you a more specific answer."
Harry sighed. "Just tell me. I know he isn’t doing well."
"Yes. But-" Hermione rolled her wand between her fingers for a moment--"there’s a difference between 'not well' and…" She broke off, and gestured to the chair. "Why don’t you sit down. The less distracted I am, the faster I can tell you something definite."
Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets to stop them from shaking. "Is it that bad?"
"Harry." Hermione stepped closer to him, resting one hand lightly on his arm. "I honestly can’t say yet. But it might be, yes."
"Okay." Harry thought his legs felt rather unstable all of a sudden. "Okay."
"You need to sit down." Hermione gently, but forcefully, guided him over to the chair, pushing the pile of clothes to the ground.
Harry pulled off his glasses as he sat down, rubbing his eyes. It felt good not having to see anything for moment, he decided, and kept his eyes closed, leaning back in the chair.
"Hmmm, this is…huh."
"What is it?" Harry slowly opened his eyes again. Hermione’s frown came into focus after he put on his glasses.
"You…and Draco, did you…" She looked at the parchment again. "You’re bonded, aren’t you?" Hermione asked, her neutral tone not entirely masking the hurt underneath.
Harry nodded.
"That explains why there’s a resonance of your magic mixed in with Draco’s," Hermione observed.
"Yeah, that…that sounds right." Harry paused. "Listen, we never told anyone. I’m sorry, I should ha-"
"You don’t have to explain." Hermione leaned over the book, turned a page, her eyes scanning over rows of text.
"But I want to." When Hermione looked over her shoulder to nod at him, Harry continued. "We did the bonding last fall, after…what happened with Ginny. The strength of the bond increases with time, and over long distances."
Hermione gasped. "A death bond?"
Harry winced. "Don’t call it that. But…yes."
"Sorry. It’s what most people call it these days," Hermione replied, looking rather contrite. "Did Draco come up with that?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "I did. If Draco ever…if something ever happened to Draco, I’d want to know right away. No uncertainties. Draco felt the same way."
"I see," Hermione said slowly. She cast another spell on Draco, and studied the results on the parchment before asking, "No other reason, then?"
Harry’s eyes fell away. "You know that I love Draco."
"Right, I did...but I hadn’t quite realised how much until just now."
There was a hint of a smile on Hermione’s face when Harry looked back up at her. "Are you almost done?"
Hermione nodded.
Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Harry waited.
Part 2.
.
A little something I wrote over the weekend :)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Category: Futurefic/War, Angst, Established Relationship, mpreg, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: So very much not mine.
Summary: You can only go so far before you fall.
This is a sequel to In Those Days, but works as a standalone as well, I think.
Unbetaed, and concrit is more than welcome. Feedback would be lovely, too :)
Thanks to amchau and angryhamster for answering a few britpicking questions.
~*~*~
"Bedroom, straight ahead, through the living room," instructed Hermione from behind Harry just after they’d entered her flat.
"'Kay." Harry tightened his hold on Draco, who was stumbling along rather than walking. "Just a bit further, love, I promise, just a bit…"
Draco whimpered, sagging against Harry.
Realising they were wasting precious time, Harry scooped Draco into his arms and quickly made it down the hall into the living room. A tattered couch to his right, two large windows in the opposite wall, double glass doors leading to kitchen to his left, a large desk strewn with parchments in the middle of the room, assorted bookshelves lining all available wall space, but where was-
"Come on!" Hermione pushed past him and rounded a particularly large bookshelf that protruded about half a metre into the room, effectively cutting off sight of the bedroom door behind, as Harry noticed when he took after Hermione.
Harry carefully lowered Draco onto the bed.
"I’ll be right back," Hermione said, disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. Door half-way closed behind her, she turned back around. "Would you mind taking off…" She waved her hand into Draco’s direction.
"Oh, sure." Harry bent down to undo the buttons on Draco’s cloak, silently cursing his shaking fingers.
"No, his shoes, Harry!"
Small puddles of mud were forming around Draco’s boots on the light yellow duvet.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled.
Hermione sighed. "'s alright." The door shut behind her with a soft click, rather than a loud bang.
Harry carried Draco’s boots over into the living room, setting them down on the wooden floor, and toed off his own shoes so as not to soil the carpet in the bedroom more than he already had. On his way back, he noticed that Hermione’s bedroom was just as sparsely furnished as her living room: besides the bed, there was only a wardrobe and an armchair, which overflowed with discarded clothes. Harry threw his coat on top, and glanced at the photos tacked on the wall, his gaze lingering first on a picture of himself, Hermione, and Ron; then on another, of Hogwarts, taken from the opposite side of the lake.
The bathroom door opened, and Harry spun around, meeting Hermione’s eyes for a moment before they moved past him, to the photos, and back to meet his gaze.
"Give me a hand?" She asked quietly.
Harry nodded and crossed over to the bed, where Draco had curled up on his side, eyes closed. Hermione had changed into robes-the kind of robes healers at St. Mungo’s wore, Harry thought-and had pulled back her hair into a tight bun.
"Take off his cloak, and his jumper, too," Hermione said, as she carefully rolled Draco onto his back. "Draco, can you open your eyes for me?"
Draco muttered something incoherent.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Hermione press a hand to Draco’s forehead, then draw her wand, whispering under her breath. Harry pushed the cloak off Draco’s shoulders and reached for the hem of his jumper.
"39.5, dehydrated, disoriented," Hermione said, more to herself than to Harry, he suspected, when she absent-mindedly helped him to pull the jumper over Draco’s arms and head, tossing it aside. She took a step backwards. "Not good at all, possibly even pneu-"
"What?" The way Hermione stared at Draco’s belly set off all alarm bells in Harry’s head. "What is it?"
Hermione turned to look at Harry. "I didn’t know."
Harry frowned. "You…what? How can you not know? Everyone-"
"There was gossip, yes," Hermione cut in sharply. "You should know I don’t listen to that rubbish."
"What about Remus?"
"What about him?"
"He knows. About the baby. We, well, Draco told him, at Christmas, when we came to the Burrow."
"Oh." Hermione’s gaze fell away from Harry. "He didn’t say anything, didn’t even mention he’d talked to you."
"He came after us. After...Molly had sent us away."
Hermione didn't say anything in return, just pocketed her wand. "I need to look up a few things."
"But what about-" Harry nodded in Draco’s direction. "You said he’s got a fever. Don’t you want to find out what’s wrong with him? I’d already sort of figured out--"
Hermione held up one hand. "Of course I want to properly examine Draco. That’s why I need check a few books, to see what kinds of spells won’t hurt the baby." Hermione started walking towards the living room.
"But she’s okay?"
"She? It’s a girl?"
Harry nodded.
"I…think so," Hermione replied slowly. "Did Draco say something? That something was wrong?"
"He said that he hadn’t felt her move in a while." Harry tried to keep his voice as even as possible.
Hermione’s eyes widened a fraction. "When? How long has it been?"
Harry swallowed. "This morning, and he didn’t say. I don’t even know…Draco’s been ill for a few days now, so maybe he wasn’t as aware of it as he usually is."
"Draco’s been this sick and you’re only getting help now?" Hermione glared at Harry.
That wasn’t fair, and Hermione knew it. As if he could have simply taken Draco to a healer. Even contacting her had been a considerable risk. "Can we talk about that later? I need to know if… is there anything you can do right now to make sure that she’s-" Harry broke off, his throat too tight to speak.
The slight flush on Hermione’s cheeks was a tell-tale sign that she was on the brink of a major outburst, but the only thing she said was a terse, "Yes." She drew her wand. "This spell’s safe," she pointed out, anticipating Harry’s question.
The incantation was unfamiliar to Harry, but seemed to be a derivative of Sonorus. At first there was only a low humming in the air, then the tones separated out until they formed a fast-paced rhythm.
"Is that..?" Harry whispered.
Hermione nodded. "The baby’s heartbeat. It’s a bit slow-"
"Slow?"
"It should be faster, but there’s no reason to worry, at least not for now."
Harry sat down on the bed, taking Draco’s hand into his own. Draco’s eyelids fluttered, but remained closed. "What d'you mean, for now?"
"I need to draw up a full diagnosis before I can tell you more. Finite Incantatem."
Harry wished Hermione were less formal about matters so close to his heart. Maybe it was her way of dealing with Harry crashing into her life again, after they’d drifted apart for the better part of last year and three months of no communication whatsoever at the end of it, aside from that shared look across the Weasley’s hall at Christmas. It might be easier for her to take on the role of healer for now, leaving everything else, such as the mess that was their friendship, aside until later.
Harry startled when he felt Hermione’s hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry." Her hand fell away. "I called your name, but you didn’t respond. I’ll check a few references now. I won’t be long, but if you need me, I’ll be in my study. It’s off the hall." She picked up a paperweight that sat on the bedside locker and turned to leave. "Oh, and one more thing: don’t do any magic, please. I can explain later, but it’s complicated so I’d rather not right now, if you don’t mind?"
Confused, but too tired and worried to care, Harry shook his head. When Hermione was gone, he turned his attention back to Draco. Reaching over to the other side of the bed, Harry grasped the duvet and loosely tucked it around Draco, who immediately started pushing away the blanket.
Harry stilled Draco’s hands. "Shhh, you’ll be cold. Just leave it up to here, okay?" He pulled the duvet back up to Draco’s waist.
"Hot," Draco whispered.
"I know, love. I’ll--" Harry looked at the bathroom door, "I’ll be right back."
Harry let the water run until it felt icy under his fingers, one eye always on Draco, who was struggling with the blanket again. It had twisted around his legs, becoming more tangled the more Draco was kicking at it. He groaned in frustration, or in pain, or both, Harry couldn’t tell.
"Shit." Harry grabbed a small towel off a shelf next to the sink, shoved it under the tap, twisting and turning it to soak faster.
Water dripped all over the floor and carpet as Harry hurried back to the bed, dropping the wet towel on the drawer so he could help Draco with the blanket. Disentangling it proved difficult because Draco wouldn’t stop squirming, not even after Harry firmly grasped his thigh.
"Stop, or…argh!" Harry hesitated to put more force into his grasp, afraid he might hurt Draco. "You’re only making it worse! Just--" He pressed down a little harder, regretting it instantly when Draco cried out. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, shhh…" Harry let go of Draco’s leg and reached for his shoulders instead, as gently as he could. "Draco, listen to me, I’m going to take it off, okay, then you’ll feel better, but you have to lie still for just a moment, will you?"
Draco groaned, but settled down. Harry held his shoulders until he could be sure Draco wouldn’t immediately start fidgeting again once he let go, taking in the visibly racing pulse and the fine sheen of sweat covering his face. Releasing Draco’s shoulders, Harry ran his hands down his arms and side, then stripped away the blanket. "See, this wasn’t so hard, now, was it?"
Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the towel, folding it twice. He briefly held it against Draco’s forehead, then smoothed it over the sides of his face, pushing strands of hair out of the way, down his neck and under the collar of his shirt.
A moan slipped past Draco’s lips.
"Feels good, hmm?" Harry asked, repeating the same path with the towel twice before refolding it to make sure the coldest part could rest against Draco’s forehead. Once in place, Harry took Draco’s hand again, rubbing small circles over the back of his hand. Draco’s eyelids fluttered again, and to Harry’s surprise, opened this time.
"Hey." Harry forced a smile on his face.
Draco blinked a few times. "Where?"
"At Hermione’s."
Draco drew a sharp breath. "Herm--Baby?"
"She’s fine," Harry hastily assured him.
"Don’t…no lies."
Harry touched Draco’s cheek, waiting until grey eyes met his own. "I promise."
Uncertainty lingered in Draco’s eyes.
"Hermione let me hear her heartbeat, so don’t worry, all right?"
"You…you heard?"
Harry nodded. "I’m sure Hermione can do the spell again when she gets back. She’s just looking up a few things."
Draco rested his free hand on his belly, a strained look on his face.
"What’s wrong?" Harry asked.
"Hurts," Draco whispered, rolling onto his side.
"Where?" Harry asked, catching the towel as it slid off Draco’s face. It felt warm in his hand, so he dropped it on the drawer.
"Head…chest…back…everywhere. Chest’s the worst." Draco’s eyes closed again.
Harry didn’t know what to say, loathe to comfort Draco with empty phrases about everything getting better soon. A few strands of hair had fallen over Draco’s face again, so Harry pushed them back, then repeating the gesture in the hope it might feel soothing, or maybe because it gave him the sense of doing something that helped.
What took Hermione this long? Was it really this hard to look up a few spells? Shouldn’t there be a list of which ones not to use on pregnant…people? Quite possibly that was the exact problem here, that Draco’s pregnancy was so far outside of the norm that Hermione didn’t have any clear information, had to dig in footnotes and cross-references. On the other hand, Hermione had always been good at finding out obscure things, and really, male pregnancy wasn’t that unusual. After all, even Harry had heard about it before being personally faced with the situation.
"Wards," Draco said suddenly, struggling to open his eyes again.
"Hmm?"
"Wards, on the flat, you checked?"
Fuck, that hadn’t even occurred to Harry. "No, I-"
Draco’s hand tensed against Harry’s fingers. "But you asked…what kind?"
Harry shook his head.
"No? No wards?" Draco’s shoulders rose and fell with rapid breaths.
"I’ve no idea, but I bet Hermione only has the best-"
"How can you…take me here, and no idea if...if..." Draco tried to sit up, but Harry pushed him back down, or at least, tried, the strength behind Draco’s resistance taking him by surprise.
"Calm down, I’ll ask her as soon as-"
Draco only became more agitated. "Where’s she? How d'you know," Draco coughed, "if she’s not firecalling the aur-" The remainder of the sentence was swallowed by more coughing. Draco collapsed on his side, clutching at his chest.
Harry’s stomach twisted at the sight. "For fuck’s sake, Draco, Hermione would never do that!"
Draco tried to speak, but only managed to cough.
"Don’t, you’re hurting yourself," Harry pleaded, rubbing Draco’s back. The coughing subsided, and Harry sighed with relief when Draco tensed all of sudden, his hand crushing Harry’s fingers together.
"Draco?"
A sob escaped Draco’s throat, then his body went limp.
"Draco!" Harry gently shook his shoulder, to no avail. After reassuring himself that Draco was still breathing, at least, he bolted through the living room into hall, almost falling into the study when he pushed open the door.
Hermione was bent over several large books, quill in hand. "What?"
"It’s Draco, he passed out, can you-"
"Take these." Hermione shoved a book and several vials into his hands before reaching for the paperweight and her wand. On the way to the bedroom, she picked up a piece of parchment from the living room table.
Harry watched silently as Hermione went to work on Draco. Book and potions set up on the drawer, she cast the first spell, cryptic symbols and colours appearing on the parchment that levitated about a metre over Draco’s head.
"What does it say?" Harry asked.
Not taking her eyes off the parchment, Hermione replied, "Just his vitals, and the baby’s."
"And?"
"I…I need to know a bit more about his general condition before I can give you a more specific answer."
Harry sighed. "Just tell me. I know he isn’t doing well."
"Yes. But-" Hermione rolled her wand between her fingers for a moment--"there’s a difference between 'not well' and…" She broke off, and gestured to the chair. "Why don’t you sit down. The less distracted I am, the faster I can tell you something definite."
Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets to stop them from shaking. "Is it that bad?"
"Harry." Hermione stepped closer to him, resting one hand lightly on his arm. "I honestly can’t say yet. But it might be, yes."
"Okay." Harry thought his legs felt rather unstable all of a sudden. "Okay."
"You need to sit down." Hermione gently, but forcefully, guided him over to the chair, pushing the pile of clothes to the ground.
Harry pulled off his glasses as he sat down, rubbing his eyes. It felt good not having to see anything for moment, he decided, and kept his eyes closed, leaning back in the chair.
"Hmmm, this is…huh."
"What is it?" Harry slowly opened his eyes again. Hermione’s frown came into focus after he put on his glasses.
"You…and Draco, did you…" She looked at the parchment again. "You’re bonded, aren’t you?" Hermione asked, her neutral tone not entirely masking the hurt underneath.
Harry nodded.
"That explains why there’s a resonance of your magic mixed in with Draco’s," Hermione observed.
"Yeah, that…that sounds right." Harry paused. "Listen, we never told anyone. I’m sorry, I should ha-"
"You don’t have to explain." Hermione leaned over the book, turned a page, her eyes scanning over rows of text.
"But I want to." When Hermione looked over her shoulder to nod at him, Harry continued. "We did the bonding last fall, after…what happened with Ginny. The strength of the bond increases with time, and over long distances."
Hermione gasped. "A death bond?"
Harry winced. "Don’t call it that. But…yes."
"Sorry. It’s what most people call it these days," Hermione replied, looking rather contrite. "Did Draco come up with that?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "I did. If Draco ever…if something ever happened to Draco, I’d want to know right away. No uncertainties. Draco felt the same way."
"I see," Hermione said slowly. She cast another spell on Draco, and studied the results on the parchment before asking, "No other reason, then?"
Harry’s eyes fell away. "You know that I love Draco."
"Right, I did...but I hadn’t quite realised how much until just now."
There was a hint of a smile on Hermione’s face when Harry looked back up at her. "Are you almost done?"
Hermione nodded.
Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Harry waited.
Part 2.
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