1Chapter One

Draco Malfoy paced the length of his small study, glancing at the ceiling every few minutes and muttering incoherently to himself. Harry Potter, who was seated behind Draco's desk in a comfortable leather armchair, peered at the silver haired young man from behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. He had stopped reading some time ago, but had kept up the pretense to cover up his anxiety. Ron Weasley, who sat close to Harry, looked both bored and worried and kept crossing and uncrossing his long legs. The three men were all waiting for the same thing. A cry of pain from upstairs made all three look to the ceiling, and interrupted Draco's pacing momentarily. With a frustrated sigh he crossed his arms behind his back and resumed the restless stride.

Harry stared at the newspaper again without really seeing it, and Ron squirmed in his seat and crossed his legs for the hundredth time. The cause of all this unease: Hermione Granger. She was upstairs in the late stages of a long drawn-out labour. Earlier that day much to Draco's alarm (and Hermione's annoyance) her waters had broken. Their twins weren't due for another two weeks but clearly they had other plans. There hadn't been enough time to get Hermione to Malfoy manor where Lucius Malfoy had insisted the birth should take place for tradition's shake. A mediwitch from St. Mungo's had been sent for and the stout middle-aged witch that turned up had, eerily enough, helped to deliver Draco. Ron and Harry had arrived soon after to provide moral support for Draco (only because Hermione had made them promise to do so). Presently Ron coughed to get Harry's attention and stared pointedly at the father-to-be who had stopped pacing and was staring at the door intently. A muscle in his jaw was twitching, clearly worry for his wife and unborn children was getting the better of him.

"That does it!" he cried suddenly, striding toward the door.

Ron and Harry beat him to it and blocked his way. "No Draco, you can't" said Harry holding him back. "It's against -"

"Out of my way, Potter!" snarled Draco. "Screw tradition, that's my wife up there."

"Easy mate, Hermione will be fine" said Ron. "She's tougher than she's looks, you should know that."

"But it's been hours" said Draco desperately, a hint of panic tainting his voice. "Shouldn't she have had them by now?"

"Urm...I can't say I've had much experience in this...area" said Harry. "Ron?"

"Just because I'm an uncle four times over, doesn't mean I know the exact details of the process" grumbled Ron.

"This is ridiculous!"growled Draco. "I have to see her, I refuse to -" he broke off as the glass shaded lamp hanging from the ceiling began to flicker on and off.

"Huh?" said Ron.

"Maybe it's a power surge?" suggested Harry lamely.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Draco "We don't have electricity, everything runs on magic!"

"Well maybe it's a magical power surge!" snapped Harry.

Before Draco could come up with a witty rebuttal against Potter's absurd statement Hermione upstairs gave a terrible scream of pain. Harry and Ron, who had loosened their grip on Draco, suddenly found themselves yanking him back as he barrelled toward the door.

"Let go of me!" yelled Draco.

"Malfoy!" grunted Ron "You and Hermione both agreed, you took the vows. If you -"

"Sod off Weasley! That was six months ago, I've changed my mind!" interrupted Draco.

"This is a powerful tradition, Malfoy" growled Ron. "If you just barge in there, who knows what sort of magic you could invoke."

"But she needs me!" snarled Draco.

Hermione Granger Malfoy whimpered as the waves of agony assaulted her body. Who ever said giving birth in the natural way was a beautiful experience? Must have been a man she thought wearily or a complete nutter who got off on pain! Hermione thought of her mother and was envious. Her mother had given birth in a clean hospital room, and she had been given drugs to ease her pain. Hermione had nothing. She was doing this in the 'traditional' way. The worst idea I've EVER had! And Hermione's mother only ever did this once. Hermione however was facing the prospect of doing this twice in the space of a few minutes. Never again! Never ever again! Two is enough, Draco can go to hell. He's not coming within a foot of me again!

"Hang in there 'Mione" said a sweet soothing voice. Ginny Potter (seven months pregnant with Harry's child) had arrived with the boys that afternoon. She had ducked out of the fireplace after flooing and rushed up the stairs (rather awkwardly given the weight she was bearing these days) to be at Hermione's side. That had been hours ago and she hadn't left Hermione once. God bless you Gin.

This was a rather enlightening experience for Ginny, she was seeing first hand exactly what she would be going through in a few months time. She was now extremely relieved that she and Harry had decided against the 'traditional birthing rules'. She wasn't the only one of coarse, fewer and fewer wizards and witches were paying heed to the old ways anymore. But Hermione had read up on it and decided it was the way for her.

Before the birth the parents took part in a small ceremony and recited a few vows. The mother promised to bring her child into the world like her ancestors, without any drugs or potions, with only the aid of a healer and the support of her mother, sister or friend. And the father promised that under no circumstances would he enter the birthing room. It was all part of a protection spell for the mother and child. Any breech of the rules and the spell would be broken leaving mother and infant at risk. At first it would seem the father got the easy end of the deal but the spell heightened his anxiety for his family making separation from his wife almost impossible to bear. It was the job of his watchers then (Harry and Ron) to make sure he kept his vows.

"What the hell's up with the lights?" asked Ginny, frowning at the flickering lamps around the room.

It was then that a violent contraction, like a bolt of fire, hit Hermione and she screamed in agony and threw her head against the pillows. Bugger me! Nothing she had felt so far had been as bad as that.

"Ah! This is it, pet" said the mediwitch, positioned between Hermione's legs. "The baby's head is crowning, get ready to push dear."

"I can't!" sobbed Hermione.

"Yes you can," encouraged Ginny "you're the toughest witch I know 'Mione. You can do this."

"Alright Mrs Malfoy ... PUSH!"

"I'm warning you Potter, if you don't let go of me I am going to hex you into the next century!" threatened Draco, straining against the two other men to reach the door.

"Oh yeah? How are you going to do that without this?" said Harry, holding Malfoy's wand triumphantly above his head.

"Why you -!"

The glass shade above them shattered and rained down on their heads. Draco's collection of books were launched out of their shelves and went flying across the room smashing into the wall. Harry and Ron's chairs joined the books with a crash as the desk slammed into the window sill.

"Bloody Hell Malfoy!" cried Ron. "Get a grip will you!"

"What's happening?" grunted Harry, who despite being shaken by Draco's display of wandless magic had noticed an electrical charge in the air (or magical charge). He felt his hackles rise and his flesh turn to goosebumps. The light bulb, which had miraculously survived, was flickering more than ever. Little could the three of them know that every light in the house was doing the same thing. Now Ron noticed the change, felt it deep in his bones. Draco however, was too focussed on getting near the door. There was a guttural scream above them and the sound of things crashing about the room, like her husband Hermione had also unleashed her wandless magic.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on?" exclaimed Ron.

"Is this normal?" asked Ginny, ducking to avoid a shoe flying through the air.

"Oh! I ain't never seen nothin' like this" replied the mediwitch.

"I can't push anymore" moaned Hermione, unaware of the disturbance her magic was causing or indeed the other magic, an old magic that was crackling in the air.

"If I had a galleon for every time I heard that, missy, I'd be a rich woman!" chastised the mediwitch. "Now c'mon we're almost there, the baby's head is already out ... so push!"

"Come on Hermione, where's your Gryffindor resolve?" demanded Ginny.

"Gone the same way as my virginity!" retorted Hermione, making Ginny laugh out loud.

"Push Mrs Malfoy!" the mediwitch cut in.

Wishing all manner of evils on Draco for doing this to her, Hermione gritted her teeth and pushed with everything she was worth. Ginny bared her own teeth in a maniacal grimace as Hermione crushed the life out of her hand. Hot bolts of pain tore through Hermione's abdomen until she thought she might black out. All three women were past the point of noticing the gentle hum as the magic in the room grew in power. Hermione screamed as a white hot shaft of pain split through her stomach, she thought her body was being torn in half, and then suddenly she felt relief - sweet, glorious relief! - and she slumped against the pillows. But just as quickly she sat up again as she caught sight of what the mediwitch was holding.

I must be delirious Hermione thought hysterically staring between her legs. I've lost my bloody mind! The mediwitch sat frozen before her holding a tiny infant - my baby - in her hands, a mixture of alarm and wonder on her face. There was something ... odd ... about the baby. Alright, odd didn't exactly cover it. This was ... weird, bizarre, this was unheard of, this was the strangest thing she'd ever seen, this was ... magic! The baby was was glowing, it's little body enveloped by a bright blue light. All three women were filled with a sense of awe and amazement. Ginny and Hermione quickly glanced at each other then turned back, but the light was already dimming, the baby was turning pink and starting to squirm. Then he took his first lung-full of air and started to scream.

The mediwitch suddenly remembered her job and quickly wrapped the baby up and started cleaning him of the birthing fluids. She'd keep it to herself that the umbilical cord had mysteriously severed itself. The sooner I get out of this madhouse the better! As if nothing odd had happened, Hermione collapsed against her pillows again, heaving a heavy sigh. Ginny, whose mouth had been hanging open, snapped it closed and started clenching and unclenching her abused hand, trying to get the circulation going.

"Well 'Mione, just one more to go and we're done!" said Ginny brightly, earning a mutinous glare from Hermione.

"Here we go, Mrs Malfoy, your baby boy" said the mediwitch, depositing the little bundle into her arms.

Draco's fist froze exactly three inches from Harry's nose. He and the others looked up at the ceiling where the hiccuping wails of an infant could be heard. Draco let out an audible sigh of relief, he released the front of Harry's robes, then grunted as Ron clapped him hard on the back.

"Congratulations mate" he said, as Harry shook the stunned Slytherin's hand.

"Yeah, thanks" replied Draco dazedly. The baby's wailing settled down after a few minutes, and was quickly followed by the sound of hurried footsteps coming up the hall. Draco took his chance and ripped open the door coming face to face with a beaming Ginny Potter who held a small bundle in her arms.

"Would you like to meet your son, Draco?" she asked smiling widely. Draco only managed a dumfounded nod as Ginny passed the baby into his arms.

"I must dash, Hermione needs me" said Ginny grinning at the three of them before heading back upstairs.

Draco gazed down at the tiny infant in his arms, a torrent of emotions washing over him. He felt winded, and his heart seemed to swell with pride, wonder and love. Never in his entire life had Draco Malfoy felt so humbled. He had been preparing for this moment for nine months but he had never imagined he would feel quite like this. Draco felt himself well up, but - understandably - repressed the urge to break down and cry to preserve what shred of dignity he still had left. There was no way in hell he would openly weep in front of Pothead and the Weasel.

"Merlin! He's got white hair!" exclaimed Ron, peering over Draco's shoulder. "Your kid's weird Malfoy."

"He has not got white hair!" snapped Draco, outraged.

"It's worse than that Ron," said Harry wryly "he's got ferret hair."

Draco threw the boy-who-was-so-not-funny a withering glance before turning to his son. The baby had opened his eyes and was squinting up at him. Draco had been told that all newborns had blue eyes, but his baby was different, his baby had silver grey eyes just like his. It was a shock he had not expected and he barely managed to stifle the gasp that escaped him.

"Who'd you reckon he looks like?" asked Ron after a few minutes. Isn't it obvious, you blibbering idiot! Harry took a moment to answer, scrutinising to baby's face.

"Draco I think ..." the Slytherin beamed triumphantly. "... but without the sneer it's hard to tell." Draco's expression soured.

"Very funny" replied Draco dryly. "At least he wont grow into a speccy little git, with hair like a run-over badger" he added scathingly. Ron snickered behind his hand and Harry just rolled his eyes. The wizards gazed above them as the wails of a second infant filled the house. All the tension drained out of Draco's body. Thank Merlin that's over, I can finally relax. Ron and Harry looked equally relieved.

"What are you going to call him?" asked Harry curiously.

"Wyatt Alexander ... Hermione chose it" Draco answered, smiling down at his son.

"Mr Malfoy?" said a voice from the hallway. It was the mediwitch. "The second baby was a girl, sir. You can go up and see them now" she informed him.

"Hermione? Is she..."

"The missus is doing just fine, sir. She's asking to see ye" replied the witch.

Extremely overjoyed Draco hastened to be by his wife's side. "Give Hermione our love!" Harry called after him. As he reached the room where Hermione was resting, Ginny passed by him, patting his arm briefly in congratulations. Hermione was propped up in bed holding in her arms their baby girl, she looked more worn out than Draco had ever seen her, but at the same time radiant and deliriously happy. In a few short strides, Draco crossed the space separating them and perched himself on the bed, kissing Hermione on the forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked gruffly, his emotions almost getting the better of him as he drank in the sight of her.

"I'm wonderful" she replied serenely, leaning closer to him. "Look little one" she spoke to the child in her arms "this is your Daddy." Draco's stomach did a funny somersault as the word Daddy was spoken.

"Is it really a girl?" he asked disbelievingly, moving the infant's blanket aside with one hand to check for himself. For some mysterious reason there hadn't been a girl born in the Malfoy line for over four generations.

"Yes" confirmed Hermione, smiling at her husband. She glanced down at Wyatt, asleep in his father's arms and stroked his head of soft pale hair. She'd only managed to hold him for a minute before she was hit by another contraction and he was whisked out of her arms. That contraction - oddly enough - and those that followed weren't nearly as painful as the ones she'd experienced earlier.

"What are we going to call her?" asked Draco "I'm guessing Warren Arthur, is no longer an option. We never really thought about girl names. I just assumed we'd have boys."

"Well ... I do have a few ideas ..." said Hermione.

"Ah!" said Draco with a grin "Should have known you'd be prepared, Granger. Well let's hear them then."

"What do you think of Mira?"

"Mira? Hmmmm ... Mira Malfoy - say that has a nice ring to it! And her middle name?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Elizabeth, after my favourite Jane Austen novel" and as a private tribute to literature's sexiest character, Mr Darcy sigh.

"Mira Elizabeth Malfoy" repeated Draco, testing the name out. "Yes, I like how that sounds."

Draco bent his head and brushed his lips against Hermione's. She smiled then yawned violently. With one arm supporting Wyatt, Draco used the other to draw his wife against his chest. Hermione sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. As exhaustion got the better of the young woman and she succumbed to sleep, Draco kept a happy vigilance over his family.

Far away across an ocean, in the bowels of a crumbling, decrepit castle someone was stirring from a trance. The wizened seer opened his large pale eyes and gave a startled gasp. The vision which had been evading him for nearly a century now had come to him at last. As quickly as he could - which wasn't very quick at all - he hauled himself out of the hard-backed chair he'd been sitting in, almost overturning a round table next to the chair. Lighting his wand he shuffled over to the old crumbling stone staircase and began to climb. Two levels later the seer, panting heavily, rapped his boney knuckles against a solid oak door.

"Enter" said a weary voice from within the room. Nervously the old seer pushed open the door and slipped inside. The owner of the voice stood in silhouette before an enormous stone fireplace, which despite it's size, was not enough to banish the cold and dark of the large empty chamber.

"Yes Randall, what is it?" asked the figure by the fire, clearly annoyed about being disturbed.

"My lord, Galen ... I have important news, sir" began the seer urgently.

"Oh really?" drawled Galen, gazing intently at the flickering flames. "Has the west wing fallen again? Lord knows we could do with the excitement."

"No my lord, nothing like that ... it's the boy sir, the child we have waited for ... I have seen him" replied Randall, the words spilling from his mouth in his haste to report.

"What!" said Galen, snapping round to face the seer. His face was obscured by a strange silver mask, making his already impressive demeanor all the more intimidating. Randall couldn't help it, he flinched at the sight. No matter how many times he came face to face with the silver mask and it's terrible owner he could never get used to it.

"It has happened then?" he asked, his tone disbelieving. "When Randall? Where?"

"No more than an hour ago, my lord, somewhere in England" answered Randall obediently.

"Excellent!" cried Galen triumphantly. "Finally, after all this time of skulking in darkness, we can reveal ourselves and take what is rightfully ours. Randall! Summon the others, the boy must be tracked down. Only then can we confirm that he is the one."

"Yes my lord, at once" said Randall reaching for the door.

"Randall?" said Galen. The seer halted at the threshold.

"Yes sir?" asked Randall nervously.

"The boy ... what is his name?" asked Galen, his gaze once again on the fire.

"Wyatt sir ... Wyatt Malfoy."