"The Mudblood" One-Shots

reborn bonus scene

Year: December 17, 2007

Canonicity: canon to "The Mudblood"

POV: first person, Lainey Fitzroy

Notes: this was supposed to be the last scene in "Reborn" but I didn't have time to finish it back then.

I stared at the Quidditch figurines hanging from the ceiling, feeling like I'd taken a Sleeping Draught and an Invigoration Draught at the same time.

The birth had wrecked my body beyond anything I'd ever experienced, yet the pain was too intense to relax into the rest I desperately needed. Harmony had stitched me the Muggle way as best she could, but the tear was resistant to magic; the wound wouldn't stop bleeding, and it wouldn't start mending until my magical healing catalyst arrived.

Which wouldn't be happening. Ever. Malfoy had attacked Brian. He wasn't allowed in this house or anywhere near my boyfriend if I could prevent it. If we happened to see him at a social gathering, I would take advantage of his presence, but until then, I'd happily embrace the pain over begging for his assistance.

Well, as happily as one could do anything after spending hours in labor, hours more tending to two screaming newborns, and hours more descending into sleep-deprived psychosis.

The five snoring Slytherins in my bedroom weren't helping.

I hadn't wanted to deal with the mayhem of Ashley, Greg, Ryan, and Vince awakening, so we'd let them sleep on the floor, soaked in hot chocolate and vodka, awaiting a song from George's bear. I'd almost suggested Harmony make it play "Twinkle, twinkle, Slytherins" again to knock me out, but I had to be conscious enough to care for the twins if they needed me.

The two were snuggled in their basinets while baby Reed was tucked into a basket on the other end of the room, sleeping beside Harmony's cot and the bubbling jacuzzi. I should have felt content and whole with so many of my loved ones present, but the absence of those lost hung in the air like an oppressive fog. At the very least, I wished my brother Lyle were here. He should have been able to hold his namesake, to be the playful, goofy uncle who could inspire them to wreak havoc on the world.

They would have George for that, I supposed, along with plenty of other influences, good and bad, but without Lyle, the future felt a little bleak.

Reminiscing about my late brother must have soothed some of my pain, because the agony ebbed enough that I could drift toward a dreamlike state—until a noise outside the bedroom startled me awake.

I tuned out my racing heartbeat to listen to what sounded like footsteps in the kitchen. My mum wouldn't have arrived back home at three in the morning, and anyone else who had access to the house knew the birth had gone smoothly and we were not to be disturbed. Perhaps Rookwood had revived himself from Brian's hex...or perhaps someone had snuck in through the broken back door.

Even before his silhouette entered the open threshold, I knew exactly who was that much of a bloody creep.

That explained why my pain had suddenly subsided, though I would've gladly welcomed it back to avoid the incoming asshole.

Brian had fallen asleep gripping my hand, but with my free one I retrieved my wand from the nightstand, hoping Draco wouldn't notice the movement in the dark. Moonlight from the kitchen window illuminated his white blond hair, but I couldn't detect an aura or glean a thought from him. The labor had completely exhausted my Clairvoyance. I had to hope my offensive magic abilities hadn't drained with it.

After surveying the room that looked more like it'd hosted a party than a birth, Draco slunk around the perimeter, headed straight for me. I closed my eyes, feigning sleep until I sensed his nearness. Once I was certain he stood beside the bed, I whipped out my wand to point it at his face.