A Priceless Gift

Chapter 13

Now almost two months into the pregnancy, Harry was once again dragged from his sleep by the harsh sounds of Draco vomiting violently into the bucket beside the bed.

Since finding out about this little 'condition', Draco had not gone a single morning without being woken by waves of nausea which sent him diving for the bucket. Not only that, but Draco's 'morning sickness' now often left him queasy at all times of the day. He couldn't stand the smell of food cooking, coffee brewing or, strangely enough, the fire burning. Being the middle of winter, Harry had to arrange for an urgent installation of electric heaters throughout their house to avoid them freezing to death.

Draco was also suffering backaches, headaches, cravings for any concoction of odd foods, and mood swings. He had trouble sleeping some nights and hated the increased need to dash to the toilet to pee. Both Apparating and Floo travel made him vomit in transit or upon arrival, and Portkeying was completely out of the question. They were restricted to Muggle transport to go anywhere, meaning he couldn't visit his mother or even friends that lived more than driving distance away.

Draco had been the brunt of much teasing from his workmates and initially just laughed it off. It was now wearing very thin on his frayed emotions and Bill had warned everyone to hold their tongues when Draco 'appeared to be emotional'. Much to his horror, Draco even found himself tearing up at one point when he couldn't find a case reference he was looking for in a textbook in the middle of the monthly staff meeting, which he tried to pass off as allergies. He didn't miss the amused looks that passed across the conference table between his colleagues.

To top it all off, the women at his office were pressuring him to have a baby shower and Draco had ended up snapping rather viciously at one of the secretaries. This forced Gracie to corner Draco in his office and give him a firm talking to about his acid tongue. Much to her surprise, she found herself with a very remorseful, bawling blond in her arms only moments later.

The secretary got her apology, and Draco agreed to the baby shower out of guilt.

Draco was tired a lot of the time and Harry was almost equally as exhausted. Without even a second thought, he had decided to take a couple of years break from pursuing his own career to raise the baby during the day whilst Draco worked. However, he wasn't able to do this until he finished his last year at university, which meant final exams in three months time and a very demanding study load to match his very demanding boyfriend. Harry was trying to study extensively for his exams on the bare minimum of sleep. He slept a lot lighter than Draco, so if Draco was awake, sick or restless, Harry was usually right there with him.

Harry was by Draco's side as much as possible when Draco wasn't working and he copped the brunt of Draco's moods and found himself being shouted at one minute and comforting a sobbing blond the next. He gave Draco foot rubs and massages. He jumped in the car and drove to the store numerous occasions to cater to Draco's cravings and spent other times trying to coax Draco into eating just a bit more and by Draco's reactions to this, was surprised he didn't end up with a fork in his ear or something.

Draco had lost a little bit of weight due to his sporadic eating patterns and vomiting but the Healer had assured Harry that so long as Draco kept eating small regular meals, he would be fine for the duration of the pregnancy.

Hermione, on the other hand, was breezing through it and enjoying every moment. Her morning sickness was infrequent and tolerable; she had a bigger appetite as opposed to Draco's meagre one; she was glowing and healthy and thriving on the experience. Draco had gotten so upset on her last visit seeing that she wasn't suffering at all, and Harry had to ask her to give them a few days alone, apologising profusely for Draco's reaction to her fortunate good run with the pregnancy. Hermione had understood completely and agreed to give Draco some time out, but she allowed herself a smug grin.

After much convincing from Hermione, Harry and Draco had grudgingly agreed to go out to lunch with Ron one day to clear the air because Hermione had told the couple that Ron was desperate to make amends. Harry had only agreed to Hermione arranging the lunch on the proviso that she tell Ron exactly what Draco was going through and make him promise not to antagonise his blond boyfriend, no matter how good an opportunity Draco's ailment was for taunting. Hermione had insisted that Ron was well aware and sympathetic of Draco's situation because Mrs Weasley had sat him down, given him a lecture all about the miseries of Couvade Syndrome, and threatened to hex Ron with all the symptoms if he ridiculed Draco in any way, shape, or form.

So, now the morning of the day they were due to go out for lunch with Ron and Hermione, found Harry and Draco starting their day like they had every other morning for the past month: dealing with Draco's morning sickness.

Draco was hanging awkwardly out of the bed with no covers over him and Harry was worried he might fall off the edge. He climbed out of bed and went around the other side to Draco to discover that Draco had tears streaming down his face while he retched miserably into the bucket. Uh oh, Harry thought. This is going to be a bad day.

Some days, Draco was completely normal but other days his mood swings were so abrupt that Harry felt like he was living with three different people: crying Draco, irritable Draco, and normal Draco. It was so difficult to keep up that Harry was often in Draco's bad books after apparently saying the wrong thing.

Harry grabbed the bucket and held it under Draco's mouth while he eased his sick boyfriend into a sitting position.

"Harry, I want to die... I can't do this for another seven months! Please kill me..." Draco moaned between heaves.

"Shhh, no you don't," Harry soothed he brushed Draco's limp hair away from his sticky face and held the loose strands away from his mouth. "I'm just going to get a wet cloth, ok? Will you be alright?" Harry made sure Draco had a firm grip on the bucket in his lap. Draco merely nodded once.

Harry dashed into their bathroom and wet two face cloths, one with cold water and one with warm water. He came back out and Draco was gulping and dry heaving, signalling the end of his morning vomiting bout. Harry placed the cold cloth around Draco's neck, took the bucket from his grasp, and placed it on the floor. He gently wiped the tears, sweat, and sick from Draco's face and then pulled him in for a comforting hug.

"Bit better now, sweetheart?" Harry asked softly.

"I'll be alright," Draco mumbled. "I'm going for a shower. Do you mind if I go alone? I don't want to stay in there long."

"Of course not. You go and I'll get you a clean towel." Harry helped Draco up of the bed, and Draco clutched their bedpost for a moment to get his bearings before he sluggishly made his way to the bathroom. "I'm going to call Hermione and tell her to come here for lunch instead of us all going to a restaurant. I don't think you're up to going out today." Draco just grunted in agreement and closed the bathroom door.

Harry grabbed his wand from his side of the bed and cleaned and sterilised the bucket. He picked up the phone next to their bed and called Hermione to quickly explain the situation. She suggested that she and Ron bring takeaway over instead. Harry was more than happy to agree.

Harry ended the call and then made the bed manually without magic and went through to brush his teeth.

Draco was out of the shower and standing in just a towel gazing forlornly into their bathroom cabinet. He grabbed his deodorant and tried screwing the cap off but it wouldn't budge. He tried again a couple more time before staring at it bewildered. After one last attempt to screw the lid off Draco burst into tears and tossed the small bottle fiercely on the tiled floor.

Harry was once again there to pull Draco into a comforting hug. "I can't get the lid off!" Draco wailed into Harry's shoulder. Harry sat Draco down on the closed toilet seat and bent down to retrieve Draco's deodorant. He gave the lid a sharp twist and it popped off. Harry handed Draco the bottle, and Draco stopped crying and stared at the bottle in his hand. "YEAH, OF COURSE THE FUCKING BOTTLE WILL OPEN FOR YOU!" Draco shouted angrily.

"You just loosened it for me," Harry said with a weary sigh. Draco glared at him. Uh oh, said the wrong thing again, Harry thought with an inward groan.

"LOOSENED IT MY FUCKING ARSE! DON'T FUCKING PATRONISE ME!" Draco spat and launched the deodorant at the wall and stalked out of the bathroom. Harry brushed his teeth quickly and he could hear Draco stomping around in their bedroom.

When Harry went back through, Draco was glaring at himself in the mirror and viciously tugging his brush through his hair. Harry winced when Draco reefed the hairbrush through a knot in the back of his hair. Harry left the room for the kitchen before he found himself with a hairbrush flying at him.

By the time Draco came down the stairs to the kitchen, Harry had some plain toast and peppermint tea waiting for him. Draco hated ginger, so the ginger tea was no good but the peppermint tea seemed to help, even if only minimally.

Draco flopped down at the kitchen table and started eating his breakfast monotonously slow with a scowl on his face. Harry was watching him out of the corner of his eye, but to Draco it appeared that Harry was either ignoring him or very engrossed in eating his Cornflakes.

Draco finished the whole cup of tea but only managed one piece of toast before he pushed the plate away in disgust. "Would you like some more tea, baby?" Harry asked gently.

"No, I don't want any more fucking tea," Draco snapped. "It tastes like shit and I only drink it so I don't puke up my liver during the next barfing session." Harry exhaled sharply through his nose and went back to his breakfast.

"I think I'll ring Hermione and call off lunch today," Harry said hesitantly.

"Fuck off. I want to get the bloody lunch with the weasel over and done with and see what he has to fucking say for himself," Draco growled. Harry pursed his lips and looked away from Draco; he was afraid that if he bit the inside of his lip any harder he would taste blood. He didn't want to fight with Draco, and god only knows it was fighting a losing battle with his blond boyfriend in such a foul mood.

Harry pushed his own breakfast away with a sigh. He hadn't eaten more than one-third of the bowl and Draco eyed him suspiciously. "Why aren't you eating?" Draco asked. Harry could hear Draco was still trying to remain angry to make a point, but was concerned at the same time as Harry, like himself, usually had a healthy appetite.

"I'm not hungry, ok? I'm going to lie down until they get here. Hermione's bringing takeaway so we don't have to do anything in the kitchen," Harry said and stalked off back to their bedroom.

A while later after a restless lie down, Harry found himself sitting on the floor of their en suite bathroom. He was sitting with his knees drawn up and his arms resting across them. He had a throbbing headache, probably from tiredness or boyfriend-stress, and he had been folding some towels when he'd been overcome by a wave of exhaustion that made him give up on the towels and sit heavily on the floor in defeat. He hadn't moved and was quite happy in his little temporary asylum from Draco.

Harry hadn't seen Draco since leaving him at the kitchen table and that had been about two hours before. Half of Harry was worried that Draco was ok, but the other half wanted to hide away from the mood swings even for a little while. He was surprised when he heard a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Harry? Are you ok? Can I come in?" Draco asked through the door. "I... I think I've finished being a shit for the moment."

"The door's open," Harry answered. The door clicked open and Draco stepped in looking rather sheepish until he spotted Harry sitting next to the toilet.

"What's the matter, baby? Are you sick?" Draco asked concernedly and came over to kneel next to Harry.

"Nope, I was just folding towels and got sick of standing." Harry looked tiredly at Draco and gave him a small smile.

Draco sighed softly and sat down next to Harry. "I'm so sorry. I've been such an arse. I really don't mean to take it all out on you. Things just seem a lot worse to me at the moment than they really are. I don't seem to be able to control my outbursts," he mumbled and looked down at his hands.

Harry put a finger under Draco's chin and gently tipped his face up again. "It's ok, sweetheart, I understand. You can take it out on me as much as you like, we're in this together. I just need a bit of time-out occasionally. On the whole, your moods haven't been too bad, but you have your days when you go from one extreme to another and, well, not to take anything away from how you're feeling, but I just feel buggered," Harry admitted.

"I just wish I didn't have to be so 'sympathetic'," Draco said with a small laugh. "Why did my phantom pregnancy have to be a hundred times worse than Hermione's actual pregnancy? It doesn't seem fair. I feel cheated or something. But then, I guess it is sort of fair. Why should we come out of this with a bouncing baby without having to suffer a pregnancy or birth, hey? I guess my guardian angel is up there right now laughing her arse off at me."

Harry snorted. "But considering everything, I really think you're doing brilliantly, Draco. I don't know how you handle being so sick all the time and not cracking up." Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder and Draco put his cheek against the top of Harry's hair.

"I handle it because you're here, Harry. They'd be locking me away in St Mungo's by now if you weren't here to help me through it. As you know, I've never been a sickly person, but whenever I used to get ill, I would be an awful sick person. No one was ever sicker than me, you know? Even if I just had a snotty nose, I was assured I was dying," Draco joked. "That's why Mum laughed so much when we told her about the Couvade Syndrome." Draco brushed his hand through Harry's fringe. "Baby, you're hot. Are you coming down with something? Oh god, I can see it now, the pair of us lining up to take turns puking in the toilet and holding each other's hair back while I burst into tears from not being able to help you."

"It's probably just a cold or something, Draco, I'm fine. I only have a headache. I'm not going to throw up. You're doing that enough for both of us," Harry scoffed. The doorbell rang then and Harry groaned. "God, I so don't want to deal with Ron. Is it horrible of me to not even want them here right now? I feel like curling up with my favourite hot water bottle," he glanced pointedly at Draco who laughed, "and just not moving for a week."

"Geez, Harry, don't be such a Gryffindor. You're not feeling great; of course it's not horrible to not want visitors. Do you want me to tell them I'm sick and make another day?" Draco offered as he got gingerly to his feet. "Urgh, my back."

"No, I'm with you and want to get this over with. Then, I'll give you a massage. How's that sound?" Harry asked as Draco took his hand and pulled him up off the floor.

"Ohhhhhhhh, that sounds like heaven," Draco moaned. He pulled out his wand and flicked it with a small incantation to open then front door and let the guests in. "Let's go."