Boy - (A 'Blaire Zabini' sequel) || Draco Malfoy

20 - January Thirteenth

On January the thirteenth, of two thousand and five; Astoria Malfoy's waters broke.

It was of good fortune that Draco was actually in the office when he had received the urgent message to attend to his wife's bedside immediately.

But when he arrived at the hospital, he found he was denied access into the delivery room.

"I'm afraid there's been some complications," said a grave looking Healer, causing Draco's heart to suddenly race.

"The baby-?"

"The baby should be fine, our best Healers are working on getting him removed safely."

Draco was so relieved to hear that his son was going to be okay, that it took him a moment to process the meaning of the Healer's words.

"Is my wife...?"

"We're not sure at this time," the Healer replied, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "She lapsed into unconsciousness just ten minutes ago. We're working on running some tests, but our main priority is to get your child safely out first."

Draco sat down in the corridor's offering of an uncomfortable plastic chair as he awaited further news; wishing, despite the inappropriateness, that he had Blaire by his side.

It felt like hours had passed with nothing happening. Why was it taking so fucking god damn long to get a baby out?

He could have sobbed with relief when his mother showed up; fraught and breathless.

"I just heard," she said, swooping down the corridor towards him as he stood to greet her with a hug, "Oh, Draco; my darling."

"They're not telling me anything," he hissed suddenly, pulling away from his mother to drive his hands through his hair; frustration eating him up.

Just then, the door to the delivery room flew open and out stepped a different Healer, and Draco couldn't help but notice the blood stains down her scrubs.

"My baby," he said at once, "is he-?"

"Your son perfectly fine, Mr Malfoy," the Healer said, causing Draco to feel an instant flood of relief.

But the look on her face told him it wasn't all good news.

"And Astoria?"

"I'm afraid she has still yet to regain consciousness," the Healer said apologetically, "we are doing all we can and running as many tests as possible. But it appears she has fallen into a coma."

"A coma?! How?!" Draco spluttered, at the same time as his mother went, "Oh my."

"Until we investigate further," the Healer answered gravely, "I'm afraid we have no answers for you yet."

"Can I, can I see my son?" Draco breathed, not quite taking in all that was happening.

"Of course, he's been moved to a special unit whilst he's being checked over by our paediatric team. I should warn you that they may want to keep him in until we know further of your wife's condition."

"That's fine, that's fine," Draco muttered hastily, just desperate to see his son.

Less than five minutes later, he was hovering next to a hospital crib, looking down at a tiny, wrinkly little human, containing thin wisps of white-blond hair atop of his head and skin so pale, it was almost translucent. 

"Oh... he's beautiful!" his mother breathed, bending down to scoop him up as Draco just stared, dumbfounded.

He watched as his mother pressed her lips to his tiny temple and rocked him gently in her arms, cooing happily as tears of joy sprang in her eyes.