So much for having sex standing up. So much for blackout days on the calendar. So much for Ceara Cauldwell's goddamned book. So much for acidity and viscosity and temperature and what have you. I let Herself deal with those variables, in any case.
None of it bloody worked.
And now... and now... all I remember is the look on her face when she told me. "We're going to have a son, Lucius." That, and the sound of his heart beating. It echoed in the room when the healer cast the spell, just as Draco's did twenty-five years ago.
A boy. A son. Which means so much, but it also means another child after this one. This one, and then another one, until she has a daughter. Two children is not so very untoward, but three? I can't recall a Malfoy having so many children. Not acknowledged ones. Not that these will be acknowledged as Malfoys. Not necessarily.
I shall have to tell Draco. He may be wondering already. I should like to see his expression when he hears he is to have a brother. He was never sanguine about the matter, even when it was just to be the girl. I wonder what I would have said, if my father told me he'd sired another boy.
Merlin, I'm going to have a son. Another son.