AN: This little story has been bugging me for a while. I haven't decided if it will stay a one shot, depends on the response it gets. I will say if I do continue it, it will solely focus on Draco and Lyra's father/daughter relationship.

I don't have a beta. Any mistakes are mine. I welcome constructive criticism, I will ignore down right meanness. Please review, it helps feed the bunnies.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Writing fanfiction is a way I stay sane in nursing school. I do not write for profit. Any plot, setting, or characters that are recognizable belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter 1: Diagon Alley

August 1, 2018

To my guiding star,

Lyra, my darling girl, I know you are angry with me and you have every right to be. I have hidden many things about my past from Scorpius and you. Please try to understand, I did not conceal these things from you to be hurtful, but to protect you. My past and your grandparents' past are not stories that should be told to young girls. The truth is that I have never been the hero that you have made me out to be. You are so much more than I ever was at your age. Where you are kind, thoughtful, brave, smart, and respectful, I was arrogant. I thought myself better than anyone in the world; all because I was a pureblood, because I was a Malfoy.

Grand-père and Grand-mère raised me in a somewhat similar fashion that I have raised you. They spoiled me, as I have spoiled Scorpius and you. I never wanted for anything. I was disciplined, taught proper etiquette, and expected to act according to my station, just like you have been. Although, unlike you, I was taught to believe that being a pureblood meant everything. When I was growing up there was nothing worse than being a blood traitor, a half-blood, or a muggleborn. I was taught that being a Malfoy meant power and prestige. I expected respect from everyone, adults and children, simply because of who I was. I did not give people respect unless their families had my parent's respect.

When I went to Hogwarts I found out that the world wasn't going to be given to me the way my parents had made me believe. People didn't respect me. They feared my father. They were afraid of him because of his power, of his past. They were afraid of any altercation with me, because of what they and their families would face from him.

Lyra, you have been told about the two Dark Wars with Voldemort. What you haven't been told is our family's involvement. When I was sixteen, I took the Dark Mark. Grand-père took his before the first war, when he was sixteen. We both took it for different reasons. He truly believed that the Dark Lord wanted to preserve the traditions in pureblood cultures. I did it to protect them, to protect my family. By that time, my fate was sealed.

I did some terrible things, things which you are still too young to understand.

I am telling you this now, because that man in Diagon Alley will not be the last and you deserve the truth. You are going to face ugly, cruel people in this world who will not separate you from me. They have the right to be angry, but not at you. You, my precious girl, have done nothing to deserve those words he said to you, but that is the way of this world. I am sorry for the hurt I have and will cause you indirectly and directly. There is nothing I can do to change the past and I am not perfect.

What I can promise you is that, you are my world. You have held my heart from the moment you were born. There is not a thing I would not do for you, and I will spend my life making up for my mistakes for Scorpius and you.

With all my love,

Papa

Knockturn Alley was as disgusting as it had been last year, smelling of piss and vomit. Draco didn't understand why his father insisted on using the floo connection there. The Leaky Caudron was perfectly acceptable, in his opinion. They were here to pick up his children's school supplies. Scorpius was excited about the fact that he could take his broom with him this year. His daughter Lyra, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. Draco knew she was excited for her first year, but she was also terrified at the prospect of being away from him. If he was honest with himself, so was he. Since the small family of three moved from France last year, Lyra and he had been inseparable.

They walked down Diagon Alley and Lyra peered excitedly into the shop windows as they passed. She would tug on his hand when she saw something she particularly liked. She would look up hopefully at him, blue eyes sparkling. Draco would smile gently at her, "Maybe after we are done, darling." Her smile would dazzle him. Scopious rolled his eyes at the pair, Lyra had known by the time she was two how to get anything from their father. He just couldn't wait to split up and see if he could find Albus.

When they reached the bank, he got his wish. They ran into the Potter clan as they were walking out. The two Slytherin boys quickly devised a plan and Scropius easily begged off from shopping for his sister's first year supplies. James Potter was fine with taking them to get their supplies. They all parted, cordially, if not awkwardly. This had been the first time that Draco had talked to Harry since his trial.

Lyra and he went through each store with excitement, picking out the supplies she need and a few extras that she wanted. A magical silk hair ribbon that changed color on request, brightly colored inks, fancy quills that had anti-staining charms, and new shoes found their ways into her supplies with only a smile and a pleading look in her ice blue eyes.

"Please Papa?" was all she had to say and they were hers. He knew he was being extra easy with her because, well, he was going to miss her dearly, and a smile from her warmed him.

The day was going perfectly, until she dragged him into Wizard Wheezing Wheezes. Surprisingly, they had been able to avoid crowd in the alley and other stores, but this store was packed. So packed, it was hard to move without bumping into another parent or tripping over a child. Loud laughter, scolding parents, and loud bangs and pops from products filled the air.

Lyra had run ahead of him, trying to catch a glimpse of the new items. Time seemed to slow as a man quickly turned and knocked into her. Draco tried to increase is pace as he watched her fall. The man spoke his apologies as he helped her up, brushing off her arm, smiling all the while until his eyes met Draco's as he approached the two. The man looked to him, then to Lyra, then back to him. Realization flared into his eyes as he saw the resemblance of father and daughter. His smiling face turned to stone and his grip on Lyra's arm tightened to the point the girl wince and looked to her father in fear.

"Malfoy," the man spat, spittle spraying as he spoke. "You have some nerve showing your face in here."

"Let go of my daughter, please." Draco requested with a firm voice. He reached out one hand and Lyra latched to it quickly. He squeezed her hand gently to reassure her.

"Fucking death eater, how dare you come around any of us." But he had released Lyra and Draco immediately pulled her to him. The store had gone deathly quiet and George Weasley was quickly trying to make his way over to them.

"Tell me Malfoy, who you had to pay to get out of going to Azkaban? Who did your Mother have to fuck to get pardoned?" The man stared at him disgustedly. Draco felt a sting of pain as he bit down his tongue, his rage cause him to tremble.

"Please refrain from using that type of language in front of my daughter," Draco said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his temper in check. He knew if he denied any claim the man stated would only make matters worse. He turned his back to the man and took Lyra's hand and headed for the door.

"Tell me, have to taught her to be the perfect death eater's whore, yet or does that come later?!" The man yelled, angry with the fact Draco wasn't rising to the fight.

"What did you say?!" Draco spun quickly back toward the man in outrage.

"That's enough!" Harry Potter had pushed his way through the crowd and in between the two fuming men. Lyra was standing off to the side, with tears making their way down her face. Scorpius appeared out of nowhere wrapping his arm around her, tucking her into him.

"I don't care how you feel about Draco here, but you will apologize to that girl immediately. Having prejudice against her is no better than the prejudice we face in the past. She has nothing to do with the past, none of our children do. It's best if you remember that." At first the man wanted to argue but Harry fixed him with a harsh glare. Finally the words seemed to sink into the man's brain. He looked sickened at being compared to a Death Eater.

He quickly mumbled an apology to Lyra and sunk into the crowd. Draco nodded at Harry before gathering his crying daughter in one arm and taking Scorpius' hand with his free hand and apparated away from the store.


"Papa, why did that man say those horrible things?" Draco hated the way her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Lyra . . ." he didn't know where to begin. Since they had moved back from France last year, he had sheltered her. The few times he had taken her with him to Diagon Alley, the place had been practically deserted.

"They couldn't have been true! The Death Eaters were horrible people, who did horrible things!" Her voice rose in a panic when her father didn't respond immediately. "Papa! Tell me it wasn't true!"

"I can't Lyra." Draco wearily sunk down onto his desk in front of her, shaking his head sadly. When he reached out to touch her, she flinched away from him violently. Draco felt his heart break. His daughter was afraid of him. She hated him. When she tore out of his study, he did nothing to stop her.

"I'll go talk to her," Narcissa said softly and rose from her position on the small seatee.

"Leave her be Mother," his voice coarse with emotion as he stared at the spot where Lyra was just sitting.

"Draco, let your mother interject," Lucius took a sip of his drink after he spoke, looking pointedly at Draco.

"No, she is my child. I can handle this," Draco argued tiredly, rubbing his eyes wearily. He needed a stiff drink.

"You have been too soft on her, darling. Just let your father and I handle this. Everything will be right as rain when she remembers her manners." Narcissa tried to insist gently, placing a hand on Lucius' shoulder to silence him.

"NO! I am not soft! She knows her place! She has been disciplined! She has manners! Just because I raised her a different the way than you raised me doesn't mean I slacked off! I would rather have her not be afraid to tell me anything! She will has never feared me or wondered if she had my approval! Do you understand?!" His stare was pointedly at his father, who was looking to his feet in shame.

"I have dealt with it once already with Scorpius! I know how to handle these things. Unless you are planning on staying for dinner, then please leave." Draco walked across the room without sparing a second glance to his parents, before slamming the door.


The little harp constellation twinkled in the sky, his daughter's namesake mocking him. The sky was clear and full of stars. The summer air was warm as Draco lay in the grass, an empty bourbon glass sat by his side. Lyra would not come out of her room, despite his pleas. When she didn't come down for dinner, he slipped the letter under her door. Now he was lying in the grass looking at the stars, searching for a way to fix this mess.

Astronomy had always been his favorite subject. His obsession started when he was four. His is mother told him what his name meant and where it originated. He had his son's name picked out by the time he was sixteen. Lyra had been a wonderful accident, but he refused to allow Astoria to name her after a fucking flower.

They were the only lights in his life, his guiding stars. The reason he had tried, the reason he made a name for himself that separate him from his father. They were his reason to live. His heart was breaking to think that one of them possibly hated him.

He sighed and made to stand, wincing when his knees popped. Draco walked over to the patio where the bourbon bottle sat on the table and fell heavily into the chair. He stared at the bottle trying to decide if he wanted another drink.

The door creaked open and he turned to see Lyra standing in the doorway, tiny feet bare and his old Quidditch jersey that stopped knees. She clutched a stuffed dragon in her arms, looking at him shyly. He gave her a watery smile and opened his arms. She shuffled quickly over to him and climbed in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. He hugged her tight to him. They stayed like that for a while.

"Vey barn't too," her voice muffled against his shirt. He craned his neck to get a better look at her. Her fine dark brown hair was matted at the back of her skull from where she tossed and turned in her bed.

"What was that darling?" He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before shifting her until she was cradled in his arms.

"They aren't true. I don't believe him." He smiled softly at her. "They can't be true."

"I'm so sorry," He hugged her tightly and rested his chin on the top of her head. He rocked her gently in his arms humming to her softly. Her fingers tangled in his shirt and he could feel a wet spot begin to form from her tears.

"Why was he so mean?" Her voice was quiet and broken, the sound hurt his heart. He never wanted to have this conversation with her. No matter how much he didn't want to have it, he had to tell her.

"Because Death Eaters hurt his family," he sighed. It was probably true. Draco hadn't recognized the man, but he did recognize the hurt, the hatred, the anger. They were in the faces of many nameless people, people ready to blame him for his father's, his uncle's, and his aunt's transgressions.

When Lyra was six months old, Astoria left and he took his children to Nice, France. France knew about the war but did not have direct dealings with the Dark Lord. They people hadn't ostracized him. His children weren't tormented at primary school. They made friends easily. He had honestly thought about not sending them to Hogwarts when his son received his letter, but Scorpius begged and his parents insisted.

"Did you hurt his family?" Lyra asked, breaking his line of thought.

"I don't know." He could have. He could have gone to school with the wanker. He looked to be around his age. He could have been there the night he let the Death Eaters into the school, or someone in his family could have been there instead.

"Did you hurt a lot of people?" Draco sighed and closed his eyes, regret and shame filling him.

"Yes," he breathed out quietly. He could feel Lyra's grip tighten on his shirt.

"Did you kill anyone?" Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her. He looked down at her, pained. She was looking at him with fear. Afraid of him or afraid of the answer, he didn't know.

"No," he shook his head while he spoke and Lyra's grip loosened. Her whole body seemed to relax and she sunk into him. She wiped away a few tears with the snout on her dragon and snuggled closed to him.

"Why didn't you go to Azkaban?" Her voice didn't quiver anymore. It had a sleepy underlying tone to it now. Draco shook out his left arm and looked at the watch on his wrist. It was two in the morning. It was amazing that she was still awake.

"A few reasons: because I wasn't an adult when I took the mark, I was forced to take the mark, and because in the final battle I helped the Order." Draco said softly.

"Why didn't Grand-mere?" He could feel her index finger begin to tap against his chest, slowly and rhythmically, trying to match the beats of his heart. Tap-tap, tap-tap. A habit she had started when she was small.

"She never took the Mark and she helped Mr. Potter." Draco replied, gently twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers.

"Grand-pere?" Lyra stifled a yawn with her hand.

"He went for six years." Draco murmured softly.

"Papa?" She yawned and he smiled at her.

"Yes, Lyra?"

"Is that why my mother left?" He rested his cheek on top of her head and tightened his grip on her, hugging her to him.

"No baby."

"Was it cause of Scropius and me?" Draco shook his head and pressed a kiss against her hair.

"No." His voice hard, he hated Astoria for leaving. Not because of him, there marriage had been a business contract to him, but because of his children.

"Papa?" She yawned, the word drawn out.

"Mmhm?" He smiled at her, just wondering just how many more questions she could possibly have.

"I still love you." She mumbled; sleep finally starting to claim her.

"I love you more," He could feel his eyes burn as the tear welled up. She still loved him. Despite his past, he hadn't lost her.

"No. . . .way. . . possible," The words feel from her lips slowly and Draco stood smiling. They had done this ritual every night since she was four. He walked into the house, content that all was right for now.