(𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑) 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Chapter 7

Chapter 8: "A Time for Discoveries"

(Crying Over) Spilt Potions

by Azhure

~~oo0oo~~

Chapter 7 - A Time for Discoveries

Draco groaned as he attempted, once again, to get out of bed. He had only meant to nap for a short time, but when he woke he realised it was dark. He should be getting ready, as he was due to meet with Professor Snape soon, and he knew how short tempered the man could be. If only getting out of his bed wasn't such an ordeal. In these final days of his pregnancy, Draco needed more time than ever to achieve the simplest of tasks. It would take at least ten minutes just to roll on his side. That was followed by another ten to get his feet dangling over the edge of his four-poster bed. Of course, the sheer effort of trying to then lift himself up and off the bed was the hardest part. That bed had been designed for cosy comfort - not quick movement. Moving was sheer hell, and he was the size of a whale. He wasn't giving birth to a child, but something that was possibly related to Hagrid. Just making it to the shower was another ordeal that needed complete rest before the next hurdle - showering and getting dressed.

Draco didn't feel much like showering, but knew that he would be expected to be in his best dress robes for yet another terrifying dinner with Voldemort. Draco had become utterly sick of having to dine with the Dark Lord, his appetite lost at the sight of the repulsive creature. He eventually managed to slide out of the bed, and into the shower. Draco hated the way his body felt, so bloated and lethargic, but what choice did he have in the matter? This baby had taken over every aspect of his life, and he could see little else beyond the daily grind.

Eventually showered and dressed, Draco sat mercifully at his desk. He gathered up his assignments and quickly checked he had completed them all. It would not do to upset Snape any more than he already was. As he was lifting the last parchment, he spotted his journal. He quickly felt a pang of regret as he quickly put it back in the hidden compartment of the desk. As he lifted the hidden compartment, he felt the other occupant of that space, the letter he had written to Harry all those months ago. He couldn't bear to think about that now. It wasn't the right time to lose his composure, at least, not whilst he was psyching himself up to dine with the Devil. He quickly closed the hidden compartment, returning the surrounding books and parchments to their normal random order. It would not do to have that journal found. Not at all. He glanced at the clock again, realising his escort was late. At least he would be able to blame his tardiness on someone else.

He realised absently that he was yet to do his hair. Snarling in frustration at his forgetfulness, he made his way to the dressing table, again resting comfortably on the stool. He was desperately looking forward to the day he could have his magic back, and become a real wizard again. But having thought that, he was also utterly terrified of the next stage of his life. Seven months. Seven months since he made a foolish choice. Why was he still here? Draco had no idea. It had been the most terrifying seven months of his life.

Draco's thoughts had become more desperate the closer he got towards the baby's birth. As he brushed his hair he wondered why he even bothered. He once again thought about how he landed himself into this mess. He had thought long and hard over the past months about his actions, about fooling the Death Eaters, but he could still see no other way he could have survived. That wasn't to say he had not done everything he thought possible to get out of his situation. It had just been that everything had been against him. He had not wanted to give up hope of getting away from the Death Eaters, at least, not when he first arrived. But with the passage of time, and his own shortcomings, that avenue was slipping away faster each day.