"When you came into the world you cried
And it broke my heart."
-Dear Theodosia
Draco can hardly believe it's over. Astoria still trembles, and tears streak her reddened face, but she is smiling through the pain. He doesn't have a chance to check on his wife.
The midwife holds his son in her arms. A moment of tense silence passes, followed by a soft cry. Draco rushes forward, eyes wide. "What have you done to him?" he demands, panic saturating his usually calm tone. "Why is he crying like that?"
He knows that babies are meant to cry; it's completely natural. But not his baby, not his perfect son. The sound is too much, and he thinks his heart might shatter within his chest.
"It's okay, Mister Malfoy," she assures him. "Hold him, please. I need to tend to your wife."
Draco has prepared for this. Astoria had insisted he practice with lifelike dolls until he was comfortable. Somehow, it isn't enough. Scorpius isn't a doll; he is a living, breathing baby, and Draco is well aware of how fragile the tiny, squirming bundle is.
Beneath the panic and fear, there is something else. Pride isn't quite the word he's looking for, but he thinks it must come close. "My son," he whispers, marvelling at the perfect fingers and perfect blond hair. "Look at you…"
He swallows dryly. This feels like a dream, like nothing around him is real. He is finally a father, and the thought, in and of itself, is absolutely terrifying. His father hadn't been around for him, and, whenever he was, he had always been so cold, so detached. Part of Draco is afraid that he cannot break the cycle, that he will find a way to fail Scorpius too.
"I won't let that happen," he says.
His son just squirms and cries, and Draco's heart continues to break. Draco takes a deep breath. He doesn't know how to be a father, but he's ready to learn.
