Draco was pacing like a caged lion, his eyes over bright and fevered. A thin sheen of sweat stood out on his high forehead, and he hadn't spoken in over an hour.
Blaise, on the other hand, sat sprawled and relaxed on a cushioned chair before the roaring fire. "Yolanda," he was saying. Draco didn't acknowledge him. "Zara? Zinniah? Zora?" he tried.
Draco continued to pace.
"Maybe I skipped one," Blaise muttered. "Aaliyah? Abitha? Adrienne?"
A vein was pulsing in Draco's already tight jaw.
"Alexis? Alena?"
Draco exploded. "Fore Merlin's sake, Blaise! It's a boy!"
Blaise was unperturbed. "Not according to Ginny, and I'd believe her over you any day."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. FINE. Think what you want – just not out loud." He went back to his pacing, twice as fast as before.
Blaise was silent for a moment. Draco's anxious breathing and heavy footfalls sounded over the popping of the fire. Then Blaise opened his mouth once more. "Alice?"
Draco whirled, ready to throttle his smirking friend, when a new sound carried into the room.
Wailing.
Draco froze in his tracks; even Blaise held his breath. Then, like quicksilver, they were racing across the study, knocking chairs aside to reach the heavy wooden doors which lead t the bedroom.
The doors burst open with Draco a millisecond ahead of Blaise. They both halted in their tracks for a second time at the sight before their eyes.
Buried among a mountain of feather-soft pillows and vastly thick bedclothes lay Ginny. Her burgundy hair fell loose and wild around her, some party heavy with perspiration. Her forehead was creased with weariness and strain, but the look in her eyes was one of such joy and amazement that Draco's heart sang. His eyes fell from her beaming face to her arms, which cradled a tiny bundle of forest green quilting.
"So," Draco heard Blaise mumur over his right shoulder. "Do I get fifty galleons or don't I?"
Ginny's grin widened, if that were physically possible. "Come here, Draco," she said simply.
Somehow his feet carried him to her side – his brain was too numb to direct them. "Ginny –" he heard himself whisper.
"Shh," she said to him. "Don't say a word. You don't have to." Her smile made his stomach flip. "Just hold her."
His heart stopped. "Her?" To his mortification, his voice squeaked.
Ginny laughed, and it was like honey on his lips. Draco found himself smiling weakly in return, his blood pounding in his veins.
Draco didn't hear Blaise's cry of, "Ha! I told you so!" He was oblivious to the "You must be so proud" of the midwife of the shining smile of the house elf.
He only had eyes for his daughter's face and ears for her gurgling of contentment.
Her head was pale and hairless (Draco was instantly reminded of a turnip – but it had to be the most beautiful turnip the world had ever seen.) Her eyes were palest blue, like all babies at birth, but they held a sort of wisdom that Draco could never understand. His knees were quivering like jelly, but somehow his hands held her aloft on their own. As he stared, wide-eyed, his ears began to work again, and he realized she was no longer crying.
"She… she likes me," he said, his voice clearly awestruck.
Ginny's bell-like laughter rang in his ears. "She loves you."
"She's beautiful," he whispered.
"I think she gets it from her mother," Ginny said slyly, smirking.
"I should never have taught you to smirk like that," he replied, but his eyes glinted with amusement.
Blaise had crossed the room and he stood over Draco's shoulder once more. For the first time in what must have been many years, Blaise could think of nothing to say. He merely stared. Finally, he murmured, "I won the bet. Fifty galleons, mate."
Draco couldn't find it in him to look sullen with his daughter held so close to his heart. "Fine," he said simply. "It's a good thing you won, because… because I wouldn't have her any other way."
He met Ginny's eyes, and they shone so brilliant that he couldn't help himself – his features broke into a wide, soaring smile.
And in that moment, Draco's world was perfect in every way.
-&-