Baby Girl – by Avi Potter
Baby girl. Raised in a world recovering from war. Raised by those who in the beginning, were designed to hate one another and never think twice about lingering feelings, unchecked and uncensored emotions, a passion not for hate, but for love, for one another. It was something unconsidered. But baby girl, you are being raised knowing that your two parents may not have started out loving one another, but who found their love late and thus found you. They know now that you are the progeny of war, the next generation. Baby girl, you will be loved.
***
'Christiana, when you were born, your parents swore they would love you 'til they were in their graves and beyond. They said from the very moment they learned they were having a child; they would stop all causes for danger and disaster in their lives for you. You were worth too much for them to risk their lives any longer. They wanted a safe environment for you, somewhere you would grow with their love, and develop into the magical nature they held out to you.
'Well, baby girl, they tried.
'Your Mum, Hermione Granger, well she was a wonder witch. She was born with two muggle parents, your grandparents who unfortunately have since gone from this world. They never met you, baby girl, but I am sure they would have loved you. Your Mum, she was muggleborn, yes, but never was there a brighter witch of her age. She was a bookworm, as I suspect you soon will be, after you've learned to read. She was addicted to the written word. It captivated her for all it was worth. Knowledge was her power, and she would have passed it on to you if she were able. Have no doubts that she would sit you down and instead of reading you The Tales of Beedle the Bard; she would read a passage from Hogwarts: A History. You would have fallen asleep, for that is the magical power of that book, listening to the sound of her voice coaxing images in your dreams of the Hogwarts she loved and adored.
'Though your Mum was the object of all your father's insults when she was younger, she never gave up and this made her fierce and strong. She was also a friend of Harry Potter. Yes, Uncle Harry. Ask Harry sometime and he'll tell you all about the adventures he and his two friends, your Mum and Uncle Ron, went on when they were in school. They broke the rules, as you will do I'm sure, just as I did when I went to school. Your uncles, they were troublemakers, they were.
'But never was there a more brilliant, more loving friend, nor a more lovelier woman than your Mum. She had chocolate brown eyes and soft brown hair, that usually looked bushy, but was just really curly, and fair skin with small freckles spackling her nose, yes just like yours.
'You would have loved her I am sure. Despite the rather romantic origins of your birth, and the betrayal of my own mother in doing so, baby girl, I will never bear your mother any ill will. She did what she thought was right by her. And your Dad, well, he was doing what primal instinct told him to do. He was far beyond caring about what the world would think, beyond what his parents would think. He loved your mother, no matter what anyone else tries to convince you. He also loves my mother, in a different way, but no less special. You may be the apple of his eye because you remind him so of your Mum, and that is fine with me. I will take care of you baby girl, when no one else is around to do so.
'Now your Dad, well he was a different story altogether. Your father was a fierce creature to behold. Your grandparents, Lucius and Narcissa, were both followers of a Dark Lord who threatened to tear this world apart with his evil plans. His retribution over this land, over your Uncle Harry, shook the very foundations of the world we now call home. But your father, growing up in a household full of darkness, well you couldn't expect anything different for him could you?
'Draco Malfoy was a lone man of this world, even in school. He had cronies and a knack for trouble, just as your uncles did, but his mischief was darker and more devious. But throughout his dark uprising and uneasy childhood at Hogwarts, he remained loyal to the idea that love was out there somewhere. Though pride will never allow him to admit it, he was very fond of your mum, even in school. There was some untouched attraction between them. He only let himself believe so after it was too late. And though he teased your mum in school, and wasn't very nice to your uncles, he somehow found a way to sift through his feelings to show love towards her in the end.
'Though baby girl you were only part of your parents world for a few years, they never stopped loving you. As your Mum fought for her life in St. Mungos, your father stuck by her until the very end. He knelt by her deathbed and whispered his final "I love you" in the ears that heard his voice and his alone. Not even your Uncle Ron, who in all factuality was your Mum's husband at the time, could get past the barrier that Hermione had constructed. She allowed only Draco, your father, in.
'Now many of your friends in school, when you're old enough to attend of course, will tease you or make up rumors about you, baby girl, because of how you were conceived. Two people, who were already married to others, got together and conceived you out of pure love. Or lust, I can't really be sure. It was love that brought them together, and love in which you were born, but lust was the agent of the act that allowed you to be. Now though you will call my mother your mother, always remember she is not your own. She is my mother, a woman who married your father first. And even though Uncle Ron was married to your mother, he is not your father. It may be confusing for a while. But two previously married people had an affair and the result: you. You are called a love child, baby girl, a child born out of wedlock. Your parents were not married, but baby girl, they loved you so.
'Your mother hid you for as long as she could, from your Uncle, her husband, as well as my mother. But evidence of her and your father's deeds was clear after three months. She showed the bump where you grew. Ron was upset, as was my mother, Astoria, but Hermione never surrendered the love growing inside her, and your father, Draco, did everything in his power to make sure she was safe. To make sure you were safe.
'Now I don't know that you would call what your Mum and Dad had 'true love'. It was true enough for both of them. She loved him and he loved her, it was as true as that. They loved their respective partners, and perhaps that was their true love. But whatever the reason, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were drawn to one another.
'A year after you were born, baby girl, your Mum was taken from this world, to go and join her parents. It was a disease, a muggle disease; something called 'breast cancer'. They detected it too late. There was nothing those at St. Mungos could do, and she, being a calm and understanding witch all her life, refused to let it take hold of her family. Uncle Ron was told, as was his family; her family, and your Dad was told. Though all took the news hard, I think Dad took the brunt of the blow. Like a bus speeding towards him, it hit his gut full speed; he didn't see it coming. How could he fathom a world without her? Without the woman who had brought him this beautiful baby girl? But he had to let her go. And he did. Now she watches over him, and you, to make sure you survive and live with hope without her. She couldn't ask for more.
'And I, I was introduced to you baby girl, exactly one year ago. You are two years old. Your father is forty-three, and I am eighteen. When he introduced us I felt a strong tinge of pain towards you, for taking my father away from me. But when I saw you, you lit up my world. Your tiny hands and beautiful brown eyes and small blonde curls, it hit me so hard. How could I hate such a small and innocent child? You do not yet know to what extent the implications of your birth have brought, how could you? All I knew is that your face, your freckles, your life connected with mine. I don't think I could ever let you go now baby girl. I feel nothing for you except the truest and purest love; that of a brother's towards his little sister. You are sixteen years younger than I. When you are old enough for school I will be twenty-seven years old. I will probably have taken a wife, and have a child of my own by then.
'I feel sorry that you were born so late in our lives. Father and Mother are getting on in their years. In nine years they will both be fifty-two. You will probably be teased that your parents are so old. But I know father will not give up his life until he has seen you meet the one you will spend the rest of your life with. He will walk you down the aisle at the old age of sixty-two if it means his little girl will be happy. And your Mum, Hermione, well she'll be smiling down from wherever she is, frozen at the age of forty-two forever, and will watch the ceremony. And I, your dear brother, at thirty-seven, will ask my sister to dance around the floor and tell you that you're the most beautiful little sister anyone could ever ask for.'
***
"An interesting bedtime story, Scorpius." Draco stood behind his son, as he had been for the past fifteen minutes, simply listening to his eldest child describe to his barely-two daughter the tale of her parents.
"Yes sir," Scorpius replied, taken aback that his father had been listening in on his story.
"Detailing her 'romantic origins' I assume."
Scorpius nodded, "I thought it only fair."
"Fair?"
"Sir. No one likes secrets, especially those that affect the outcome of ones life so intrinsically. She deserves to know where she came from, don't you think?" He looked longingly towards his father, a man he admired for all his faults and harshness.
"I do," Draco replied. "Thank you."
Scorpius bowed his head then, "Father." He turned and kissed little Christiana on the forehead and took his leave, exiting the nursery towards his own room.
Draco then smiled gently to himself, walking slowly towards his daughter. Brushing a stray curl across her forehead he reminisced over her mother. Hermione had meant the world to him. Now it was his job to love their daughter when he couldn't be with her. It amused him though how much Scorpius knew about the time he'd spent with Hermione Granger.
"Draco?" A small voice beckoned him from the door.
"Astoria." He smiled towards his wife. Her light brown, almost blonde, hair hung around her shoulders softly and her green eyes held him captivated. She was lovely. "Did I wake you?"
She shook her head. "No, of course not. I was waiting up for you. These long hours at the Ministry are hard on us both."
Draco nodded, reverting his eyes back to Christiana. "Is she well?"
"As well as can be," Astoria replied. "She fell asleep waiting to show her daddy she can walk."
"She can walk?!" He exclaimed excitedly.
Christiana stirred. "Sshh," Astoria chided gently. "Don't wake her dear. She'll show you tomorrow."
Draco nodded. "I hope so." Then he too bent down to kiss her on the forehead as his son had done. "Sleep well my angel, my baby girl," he whispered.
Astoria smiled to herself. It was beautiful watching her husband be so delicate with the baby. She loved Christiana as her own, as Draco hoped she would. There was no one that could resist falling under the little girl's spell. "Come to bed, Draco," Astoria said, holding out her hand to her husband.
"Coming, love," he replied, taking the offered hand. Kissing her softly on the lips they headed out the nursery door to leave the little girl sleeping soundly.
***
Baby girl, with blonde hair and brown eyes, with freckles and pale skin, with a father who loves you, a step mother who adores you, a brother who protects you, uncles who spoil you, aunts who make you smile, cousins who cuddle you, and a mother in Heaven who misses you, baby girl rest assured: You will be loved.
