Title: Apple of His Father's Eye
Author: Mayetra
Website: http:torturedscribes.feybles.com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I wrote this for fun and not for profit.
Betas: Kat and Calli
Cast: Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy
Timeline: Pre-Book 1
Summary: Lucius Malfoy meets his son for the first time.
A man paces up and down a narrow hallway outside a private hospital room like a caged tiger impatient to escape. The few people that see him in this state are shocked. It is not normal for this man to be anything but calm and collected in public. It has always been assumed he is just as cold in private.
He pays no attention to their passing stares. His eyes continually flick to the closed door at the end of the hall and one can easily imagine he is willing it to open. The scowl on his face only deepens when his desire is not immediately answered. This man is used to getting his way in all things.
Finally, it does open and a rather tired looking healer steps out. He smiles at the man knowing it is a wasted gesture.
"The child?" the impatient man snaps at the healer.
The healer ignores the rudeness of the question. "Healthy, Mr. Malfoy."
"Good." Malfoy still looks agitated. "The sex?"
"A boy."
For the first time, Malfoy's scowl lifts and he smiles. "Excellent."
The healer steps aside and Malfoy immediately begins to stride past him toward the room beyond.
"Your wife is fine as well, Mr. Malfoy," the healer adds helpfully.
Malfoy waves his hand in a gesture of callous indifference. He could care less about the woman he is married too. She has done her duty and given him an heir.
The healer can only shrug as the cold man stalks past him. He only delivers babies, whether the parents of said babies' get along was really none of his business.
Malfoy paused for a moment inside the room scanning for his son. He spies his wife asleep on the narrow hospital bed. She looks bedraggled and tired. He finds it hard to reconcile the fat, ugly creature with the cool, beauty he married. Not seeing his child, he dismisses her from his mind.
A soft sigh captures his attention and he spies a small bassinet in the corner. Hurrying to it, he is taken aback by what he sees. It looks like a blue cocoon. At one end, a wrinkled, blotchy red face with tufts of white- blond hair peeking out.
His son?
Pushing aside his revulsion at the sight of his son's face, he starts the ritual that generations of fathers before him have preformed by undo the tightly wrapped blanket for the time-honored count of fingers and toes.
His son whimpers at the loss of warmth, but Malfoy ignores it and slowly counts the tiny fingers on one hand. By the time he has begins to count the toes on the last foot, the whimper has become a roar.
Malfoy smiles, his initial thought of disgust forgotten, as he carefully rewraps his son in the blanket. Only a Malfoy could show such displeasure and indignation at having his comfort disturbed.
"You roar like a dragon, son," Malfoy murmurs as he awkwardly picks up the squirming infant. "I think I shall call you Draco."
Draco quiets now that he is warm once again. His unfocused blue eyes stare at his father for a moment before closing.
Malfoy continues to hold his son as he tells him of all the wonderful things that life holds for him: power, wealth, and respect.
Anyone can see the boy is the apple of his father's eye.
Too bad, he is just as rotten to the core.
End