Lestrange Journey Part 1

Chapter 6

Rodolphus trembled with agitation, his mind clouded by worry. Rabastan and Harry had been gone for two long days, leaving him alone to face the ever-growing discomfort that worsened by the hour. A sharp, searing pain tore through him, and he collapsed onto the bed, gritting his teeth to stifle a cry. His body ached all over, cold sweat dripping down his forehead. Two days ago, he’d convinced himself the contractions were false alarms—now… they felt different. Harsher. More frequent. Relentless.

He fought to steady his breathing, but panic clawed at his chest as another wave of agony crashed over him. Why had they left? he thought desperately. Why aren’t they here now?

A brutal tearing pain ripped through him, stealing his breath. Gasping, he clutched his swollen stomach, the room spinning around him. His legs weakened, barely able to hold him as he staggered out of the bedroom, desperate for help.

“When are Harry and Rabastan coming back?” he demanded, voice shaking with fear and frustration. His wide, glassy eyes searched the dining room, desperate for an anchor.

Tom, seated beside Lucius, looked up in surprise. His expression quickly shifted from mild curiosity to deep concern. “They’ll be back this evening. Are you alright?”

Rodolphus groaned, shaking his head. “Why can’t they come back now?” Panic laced his words, sharp and raw.

Lucius frowned, concern darkening his sharp features. “Rodolphus, what’s wrong?”

Before he could answer, a contraction slammed into him. His knees buckled. He lurched forward, clutching a nearby chair. “Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his face paling.

Tom was on his feet instantly, gripping Rodolphus’s arm before he could collapse. “What was that?”

Lucius’s eyes widened. “Was that a contraction?”

Rodolphus panted, sweat trickling down his face. “I—I don’t know. They’ve been getting worse since morning.” His voice cracked, heavy with exhaustion. “Two days.”

Tom’s expression darkened. “Two days? Rodolphus, why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

Before he could respond, his body jerked violently as another contraction crashed over him like a curse. He groaned loudly, doubling over in agony. His stomach clenched, nausea rising fast. He barely turned before vomiting onto the floor. Vision blurred, the world tilting dangerously.

The door burst open.

Harry and Rabastan rushed in, faces etched with alarm. They had returned early—but the sight of Rodolphus crumpled on the floor, trembling and pale, sent fresh panic coursing through them.

Harry dropped to his knees beside him. “Rodolphus, what happened?!” His voice cracked, raw with worry.

Rodolphus barely registered the question before another wave seized him, body trembling as he clutched his belly.

Harry’s heart pounded. “Rabastan, call the healer! Now!”

Rabastan didn’t hesitate, flicking his wand to summon help. Seconds later, a healer appeared, urgency sharp in her gaze.

“Rodolphus, what are you feeling?” she asked, eyes scanning him.

He gasped for breath. “Pain… wrapping around my back and stomach.” Another contraction ripped through him. He sucked in a sharp breath—and looked down, blinking at the wetness pooling beneath him.

The healer’s face went grim. “That was your water. You’re in labor.”

Rodolphus’s breath hitched. Labor. Now. Hell.

“How long have you felt this?” the healer demanded.

“Two days,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened. “We need to move you—now. Can you walk?”

He nodded weakly, eyes flickering to Harry and Rabastan, silently pleading, “Help me.”

Harry was instantly at his side, wrapping an arm tight around Rodolphus’s waist. They barely made it to the hallway before another contraction tore through him. Rodolphus’s grip tightened painfully on Harry’s hand.

“This hurts,” he growled, panic thick in his voice.

Harry swallowed hard, forcing calm. “Breathe, Rodolphus. You have to breathe through it.”

Rodolphus shot him a glare, face twisted in agony. “Fuck you.”

They reached the bedroom just as another wave struck. Rodolphus stumbled, body shaking violently, barely able to stand.

“Fuck!” he screamed, voice raw. “It won’t stop!”

The healer pressed her hands firmly against his abdomen. “When you feel the urge to push—push.”

Two more brutal contractions wracked his body, each worse than the last. The urge slammed into him, overwhelming.

Rodolphus seized Harry and Rabastan’s hands, squeezing hard as he screamed through the pain.

“Good,” the healer said, voice calm but urgent. “Again.”

He pushed. Again. And again.

Until the searing fire—the ring of fire—nearly broke him.

Tears streamed down his face. “No more,” he whimpered.

But with one last desperate cry, he summoned the last of his strength—

—and pushed.

A final wave of agony.

Then… release.

And… nothing.

The pain, the exhaustion, the fear—all faded as darkness swallowed him whole.