I want to say a big thank you to everyone who's submitted baby names for me. There are still a couple of chapters to be written before the baby is born, so if you still want to make any suggestions, you can.

Chapter 10
Please, Father, let Hermione know that she and our child occupy my every thought, she read. Let her know that hers is the face I see in my dreams, and I strive to make things right between us. I have to do this if I'm to find any semblance of forgiveness, not from Hermione but myself.

Hermione let the letter fall onto the bedspread and leaned back against the plush pillows. There weren't many letters, four at the most, and all brief. But she couldn't stop reading them. Picking up another letter, she began to read again.

I know this must sound crazy, but in my dreams I see her, our daughter. She looks like her mother - soft brown eyes, wild curls, a small nose, and pouty lips. She has my eyes though. Sometimes I dream that she's older - taking her first steps, learning to say Daddy, and then she's off to Hogwarts. I hope to be back before she's born.

Tears blurred her vision as she read his letters, discovering the love he felt for his unborn daughter. He would come home, he promised. In a little more than three months, their child would be here, and so would Draco. It brought a smile to her face. Though she didn't love him, she knew he belonged there with his family and his baby.

The owl pecked impatiently against the window pane until Lucius set aside his paper and let the demanding creature inside. The bird had come before, though infrequently as the months passed since Draco's departure. Taking the letter from the proffered claw of the owl's right foot, he shooed the bird away before reading this latest correspondence. Draco usually started with some type of salutation, but skipped it this time.

I'm no closer now than when we arrived, he wrote. Sometimes I feel like a fool for even attempting this, but I feel like I have to do it. I've hurt so many people, or watched others hurt them. I want to help now. I can't help but feel like I'm doing nothing though.

Last night I dreamt about her again, the baby. She's two years old and I'm meeting her for the first time. She has a twinkle in her eye, as if she knows who I am. But each time I come near, or try to hold her, or smile at her, she starts to cry. I worry that my child won't know me, which makes me even more anxious to complete this task I've set for myself.

Lucius put the letter aside. He understood his son's fears, and wondered if he could recall that far back in his own childhood to when Lucius was not around. The last thing the Dark Lord cared about was the young son he had at home. And so, he had been called away frequently, going months without seeing his wife and child. Even after he had been vanquished just months after Draco's first birthday, Lucius made his resurrection a priority. When Draco learned to talk, he was able to identify a variety of things - Mama, juice, elf, bed - but it was a long time before he learned Daddy. It was then his desire to serve the Dark Lord waned in favor of family.

Exiting his study, he planned to show Hermione the letter. Narcissa, it seemed, had other ideas. As she descended the staircase from the second floor, arms crossed over her chest, she levelled her husband with an icy glare. "How long did you plan to keep them from me?" she inquired. There was no excuse he could give that Narcissa would not see through. Instead he remained silent as she continued her rant. "He's my only son. I've spent months writing to him, and got nothing in return but unopened envelopes. And yet, all this time, you have been corresponding with him. And how do I find out, Lucius? I go in to check on Hermione and find her asleep amidst his letters."

"I hadn't planned on telling her about them either," he admitted.

"And why not?" she demanded. "He's my son. I had a right to know how he was doing. He's the father of her baby. She has the right to know if he'll ever come home. Why would you keep this from us?"

Sighing, he leaned against the banister as he tried to formulate his reasoning. It had seemed, after the first letter, like a good idea to not share it with the two women. He hadn't known then that his correspondence with Draco would continue, and hadn't wanted to get their hopes up that more would come. But then they had. Not many, but certainly a letter for each month Draco had been gone. Perhaps a part of him, knowing that Draco had not answered Hermione's and Narcissa's letters, coveted this new bond with his son. For a long time, their relationship had been built on fear, and it occurred to him then that perhaps fear was what made his son respond.

"I thought," he finally said, sighing deeply, "that you might be upset. I realize now that not telling you hurt more."

"Damn right it did," she muttered with an uncharacteristic display of anger. "She was crying, you know. Even in her sleep, she was crying."

Lucius hadn't expected Hermione's response to be so emotional. "Do you think she loves him?" he wondered.

Narcissa turned, ready to go upstairs, but waited for her husband to join her. When they met on the same step, Lucius crooked his elbow and pulled her hand through it. "It's hard to say," she replied when they began to climb the stairs together. "I think she's afraid, and hoped he would be here to go through all of this with her. With her friends abandoning her, I think she's lonely."

"She has us," Lucius interrupted.

With a smile that said "you're a man, you know nothing about this," Narcissa patted his hand. "We're not the same," she stated. "We're not her age. She's only really known us a few months. Even though she and Draco were never friends, they at least knew things about the other. They've both seen how the other has changed, and deep down, I'm sure she knows how much he cares about her. I think, in time, she could love him."

"And Draco?"

Narcissa's smile grew as they reached their bedroom. "I'm fairly certain he's closer than she is."