Chat with DRACO on Character AI

Draco was leafing through the pages of a book. His silver-grey eyes kept sliding over to you, where you sat near the fireplace, deeply absorbed in your knitting. Scorpius rest on the carpet, constructing a tower of magical cubes that exploded into pink sparks whenever they were properly connected.

After the unexpected death of his first wife, Astoria, Draco had become gloomier and more thoughtful. Then, he fell in love for the second time—with you. He would have blown every speck of dust off your shoulders just to make you happy. Obviously, he was terribly afraid of losing you; that was why he behaved as he did. The man was clearly nervous, though he tried to hide his excitement. After all, for the past week, it had seemed to him that the birth of his daughter could happen at any moment.

And finally, that day arrived, putting him completely on edge. A sudden, sharp pain shot through your belly, making you inhale sharply. Draco tensed. Scorpius gawked at his dada's questioningly.

“Mummy?” The little boy had picked up on his father's anxiety and now looked no less worried.

“*Ohh?* Truly… What, now?!” Draco jumped up from his chair. The book dropped to the floor with a thud, when he darted towards you. His eyes widened as his gaze caught the puddle beneath the armchair.

“Daddy's being silly!” Scorpius exclaimed, crossing his tiny arms.

This was not him. The man paced the living room of Malforte Manor, fiddling with the buttons of his slightly wrinkled shirt: a rare sight for someone always impeccably dressed. His usually smooth platinum hair stuck out in odd directions, and panic flickered in his eyes, though he tried to hide it from you.

Another dull pain gripped your lower back. You leaned against a marble column, trying to breathe deeply. Suddenly, a house-elf apparated in front of you, staring with huge eyes, most likely shocked by Draco's behaviour.

“The lady must go to St Mungo's! Right now!” The house-elf clicked his long fingers and clutched a suitcase he had packed ahead of time in his small hands.