He didn't want the child.
It had been one stupid night. One evening filled with drunken escapades and huge mistakes. He had been careless, thought nothing like this could ever happen to him. He barely even remembered what happened the next day. And then he heard the worst words in the world.
You're going to be a father.
Even though he was a Slytherin, he was still a Malfoy, and Malfoy's don't shirk at responsibility. So he did as much as he could do. He couldn't marry her-that would probably end up being more harmful than anything. The constant bickering would cause the child to have a complex. But he did promise to support her, in any way, and to be there always for this child, no matter how difficult. It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to say or do, but it was the right thing.
He soon regretted it. For the next nine months, he took care of her. If she needed something, he got it for her. He rubbed her back whenever she hurt. He comforted her whenever she was sad or worried. He put up with her crazy mood swings. He even helped reign in her hormones-not that he was complaining. After three months, he was exhausted. It was a whole bunch of work for a child he never wanted in the first place.
Then, she changed. At first, they were in the same boat-neither wanted the child but they couldn't get rid of it either. It was the chain that wore them both down, diminished their freedom, and kept them together unwillingly. But then one night, everything changed. They were sitting in silence-her reading and Draco thinking about the things he could have been doing-when she suddenly gasped. He looked up sharply, slightly worried, but she had the oddest expression on her face.
Slowly, she placed her hand on her swelling stomach and smiled. She jumped and gasped again, laughing joyously. Draco sat watching, confused. She giggled again and bit her lip, rubbing her stomach softly. Suddenly, as if just remembering he was there, she looked at Draco, her eyes shining with tears. "Come here," she said, and he walked hesitantly over to the couch. She placed his hand on her stomach.
"What…"
"Ssh. Wait." And he waited. For three long, excruciating minutes he waited.
Then, he felt it.
Something tiny kicked his hand. She laughed again. It was a strange feeling. His child just kicked him. But he couldn't rally the joy she seemed to be feeling. From that moment on, she loved it. Draco would catch her sitting on the couch, rubbing her stomach, staring dreamily into space or whispering softly to it. She began to eat even healthier than before, minus the odd craving every now and then. She bought books and books on pregnancy and birth and child development. All Draco could do was watch as she waited in anticipation for the baby. He tried to be as happy and as excited as she was, but the emotion just wouldn't come. He was a little relieved though.
At least one parent would love it.
She was easier to live with, and Draco was grateful for that. She didn't demand as much and her mood was brighter with less frequent mood swings. She seemed to live in her own little world with the baby, but he didn't mind in the least. The next couple months went by smoothly until suddenly disaster struck.
Draco walked in, groceries in hand, to find her sprawled on the floor in obvious pain. He went into panic mode then, unsure of what was happening. She was unable to talk so he grabbed her and quickly apparated to St. Mungo's in blind terror. Once there, they whisked her away to a room and left Draco to pace. For four hours, Draco waited to hear any news. There was a ball of panic in his chest and he could barely breathe. He couldn't even analyze why he was so concerned. When the healer walked out, he nearly knocked him over.
"She's stable." Never have two words brought such relief. "It was a minor complication, but she's back on track. Both her and the baby are fine."
Something flickered in Draco, but he pushed it aside. Now that everything was okay, he could breathe and things went back to normal.
If you had asked her though, things never went back to normal. She would tell you about the worry line that appeared on his face whenever she winced. Or about his constant checking up on her throughout the day. She would explain that he became nicer and gentler, even though she knew he didn't notice. But mostly, she would talk about how those small differences made her fall in love with him.
Draco refused to let any feelings in, so the next couple months went by smoothly. No more unexpected trips to the healers, no sticky feelings to mess with. He was content with his life, though he still sometimes wished that it had never happened. She went into labor so they ran to St. Mungo's where she was there for twelve hours.
Those were the longest hours of Draco's life.
He wasn't nervous-the healer told him everything was fine. He wasn't anxious-as soon as the child arrived it would just be a whole other set of problems. He certainly wasn't excited. He just couldn't keep still. He paced, jittered, fumbled, and paced some more. Her friends laughed at his condition, though he couldn't understand what was so funny. He almost ran out of the room a couple of times, but a Malfoy must be calm and collected at all times.
And he was a Malfoy goddamnit.
Finally, the healer came out, looking exhausted but happy. "She's ready to see you now."
Suddenly, all of the energy left him and he walked shakily into the room. She sat in the bed, a tiny bundle in her arms. Draco just looked at her in wonder. She had never looked more beautiful. "Congratulations Draco, you're the father of a beautiful girl." Love seemed to shine out of her face. "Would you like to hold her?"
Part of him screamed 'NO!' very loudly, but he chose to ignore it. He would have to get used to it eventually. He nodded and walked over to her and she lifted the baby into his arms.
Everything changed.
Draco looked down into his daughter's face. She was sleeping, her eyelashes brushing against her soft cheeks. Tufts of brown hair stuck out at all angles. Her tiny fists were clenched and he could only stare at how perfect they seemed. She was so little, he felt like he could hold her in the palm of his hand. As he watched his daughter sleep, Draco Malfoy fell in love.
It was sudden, painful, and exhilarating. Love for this innocent girl filled him to the brim. He wanted to shout for joy and weep with happiness. In the spans of five seconds, she became his everything, his reason for existence, his sole purpose for being alive. A fierce protectiveness consumed him. He knew that whatever he did, it would be to protect her, to care for her, to love her. He instantly wished for no harm to come to her, for her to be healthy and beautiful and strong. All of his wants, all of his needs were now wrapped around his baby girl's tiny fist. He would give his life for her in an instant; he would do anything to make sure she was happy. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
"Ella. I want to name her Ella." Hermione's voice was thick with emotion. Draco looked at her and felt himself slipping off the edge again. He stared incredulously, marveling at how blind he had been. All he could do was shake his head. Holding his daughter with one arm, he reached across and grabbed Hermione's hand. He saw the love in her eyes and wondered how he could have ever been so stupid.
"Ella." He whispered. "Beautiful."