With you in my Arms

79. His pale, flawless skin

It was Thursday morning the 3rd of February 2000 and it was very early in the morning to be precise. The clock over the door in the kitchen Draco was sitting in was showing 2:36 am. He was nursing a very large mug of steaming tea and was wondering for the umpteens time how he would get out off him having to go to this Birth Preparation Course again next week.

Everything had started rather normal hiding the horrors he had found himself exposed to later on. The instructor had been a witch in her mid-thirties going by the name of Gael. She seemed a pleasant sort of person with her open face and gentle demeanour. That was until the introduction round had been over, during which everybody had been openly staring at them when they realised who they were, and the topic to be talked about was the different stages of pregnancy. For a moment he had been tempted to ask, if the witches present wouldn't know by now what it meant to be pregnant and how their body changed, but he bit his tongue when one of the other males present, a tall, sandy haired Muggle, asked about something. Draco didn't even understand the question. It seemed to be related to morning sickness, but that was just a guess on his part.

The pictures that had followed this short interlude had resulted in him having to take deep breaths while trying not to be sick. He had known that this was a bad idea, but... A large sip of tea chased the oncoming sick feeling away. He sighed.

His gaze fell onto the large, round cushion tugged away in the corner. It was covered with a sickly brown coloured blanket and represented Turo's sleeping-place. Not that he seemed to be doing that much sleeping, but Hermione had insisted on their house elf having his own wee space. In the beginning this overstuffed thing was supposed to be situated in the study which the small creature had loudly protested against and after having dragged his bedding back into the kitchen each and every time his mistress had taken it out off here Hermione had finally given in.

Draco slowly let the mug revolve between his fingers. How was he going to survive next Wednesday? The topic would be the birth itself and he was absolutely sure he didn't want to know about it. As long as his beloved wife knew the details and there was a capable midwife and healer at hand he didn't see the point in having to be present as well.

If he was honest it was seeing the witch he loved writhe in pain, screaming at the top of her lungs that really got him. He had seen it once. He didn't want to have to watch her like that ever again. A chill ran through him. There were times when he could still hear her like he had heard her that day at the Manor. Terrified hadn't been a strong enough word to describe what he had been feeling. It had been sheer horror, and shame. He had never given much thought about the Muggleborn in the past. She had been somebody to make fun of, somebody to tease, call names and play tricks on. She had never been really a human being to him. That was until that day and he saw himself faced with the fact that he could make or break her. He could have shopped them all, Potter, Weasel and her, but he hadn't. Something deep within had told him what would happen and that he didn't want that. He didn't want to inflict the kind of suffering and pain his fellow Death Eaters were inflicting on a daily basis, his own father included.

There was the urge to push up the left sleeve of his bathrobe and pyjama, the urge to look at the evil mark branding his flesh, but he didn't. Draco didn't want to be reminded of all his wrong choices, even so he knew that the guilt he had tarnished his name with would never again wash off regardless what he might try. The witch who was his wife was the opposite of him in so many respects. She had always been strong, courageous and didn't give in regardless of the circumstances. He on the other hand hadn't had the sense to think for himself for most of his life. He had been a coward, a bully. But by trying to hide his fears and doubts behind sarcasm and a façade of non-caring he had deprived himself of what she had in abundance, friends that loved, trusted and protected her. She had been able to fall back onto her house mates, members of the Order even. Had she been a member? Quite likely as she would have been a prime asset with her brains.

He sighed. Yet again he was wishing for a different past. He would have loved to have some real friends. The only true friend he had have was Blaise, but as he had his own problems at the moment he wouldn't want to hear about Draco's. If it hadn't been so heartbreaking, the situation his house mate found himself in would have been hilarious, just like the stuff in the fluffy stories girls liked to read. Though how was this story going to end? A happy ending wasn't very likely, not for the wizard in question in any case.

"Master wanting more tea?"

Draco looked up and saw Turo next to the table.

"Yes, please."

The mug was refilled and then the elf shuffled off again. Steam was slowly rising from the light brown liquid.