italics - means thought

Chapter 8

Draco woke to the sound of windows rattling in the wind. Jerking up, he realized he wasn't in his room. Panicking, he started to throw back the covers when he noticed that something was missing. He looked down at his flattened abdomen. That's right. It's gone. No, he corrected himself. She's gone. He'd had a daughter, a daughter with black hair. Sighing, he remembered he was now a parent.

"Ah, you're up. That's good." Heather entered carrying a tray of food. "You need ta eat something before ya nurse Cassiopeia. She needs that colostrum before it's no good. You only have twenty-four hours 'til the antibodies in it are reabsorbed." She set the tray across his lap. Draco eyed the meal dubiously, but was too hungry to complain. Nodding approval as he ate, Heather turned to leave just as a loud cry started. Hurrying over to the bassinet that had been set up in the room, she picked up Cassiopeia and began soothing her.

"She's hungry, you need ta feed her. After this you'll need a bottle," Heather said rocking the newborn.

"I'm not keeping her," Draco stated, setting down his fork. "I can't. My father expects me to have her killed"

"That's murder! Tis an innocent child!" She exclaimed as Cassiopeia squirmed and cried. "She's not of the proper bloodlines." Draco began to explain, but the stern, disapproving frown on Heather's face made him stop. "You donna need him, but you need ta tell the lass' papa," she said patting the fussing infant. "Your partner should know..."

"NO." Draco snapped. "No, if he knew, her life would be in even more danger."

"She's Harry Potter's daughter, isn't she?" She watched him cringe. "I heard ya scream Potter. I'm right, Cassiopeia is 'the boy who lived's' daughter."

He'd let it slip, Merlin, he'd let it slip. Now she knew, now what? From the determined look on her face he knew lying would only make matters worse.

"Yes," Draco replied reluctantly. "My father is a Death Eater, if he ever knew..."

"Doesna approve of Mr. Potter, eh?" Draco shook his head. "Not surprising. An' you're right, Mr. Potter shouldna know. All sorts of nasty things are after Mr. Potter. That's not good fer a newborn or any child." Heather shook her head at the new dilemma in what was already turning into a Muggle soap opera. Cassiopeia wailed loudly, forcing her to turn her attention away from Draco. After several minutes of shushing, the midwife finally quieted her down. The new father watched her actions with mounting fear at what lay before him.

"I can't take her home with me. Father wants her dead and Potter can't deal with an infant." Draco whispered, feeling unsure and anxious about his offspring. "I think it's best for everyone if I left her in an orphanage."

Heather thought for a moment before answering.

"You need ta think of what's best fer yer daughter as well as yerself. I'll respect yer decision an' help where I can. But let me tell ya this. Leavin' her in an orphanage is probably the worst thing ya could do. She'd be vulnerable. If she disappeared from there, who'd care? The trouble is no one would. One less mouth ta feed." Draco winced at the visualization that statement brought.

"Now, if ya want my opinion, ya should tell yer Father ta stuff it and raise the child as far away from him as possible." Draco's eyes widened at these words. Heather watched them flicker with fear and excitement. "Now that's me, an' I've never been fond of Death Eaters. Donna worry lad, yer not one, so you don't count. I checked yer left arm." Heather continued her blue eyes sparkling. There was a hint of rebellion in his face for a moment when she'd spoke. If she could prod at that then there was hope for him and the baby. He was too concerned with what his father thought though. It was time for him to think for himself and be responsible for his actions.

"If I did that, I'd cut myself off from my family." Draco replied, moving his breakfast tray to the nightstand beside his bed.

"A family who'd murder their own child 'cause of its bloodlines, isna a good family." Heather told him shifting Cassiopeia so that she was using her other arm to support the infant.

"Just because my father wants to preserve our family name doesn't mean we're a bad family!" He spat back.

"What point is there in preservin' a family name when it's already blighted by murder?" She replied coldly, rocking the baby back and forth.

"She's not going to be murdered because she'll be at an orphanage."

"Ya canna hide her there, someday she'll come lookin' fer her real parents. Then what? Yer father will still have her killed."

"Not if I'm the head of the family." Draco growled.

"Do ya think tha rest o' yer family would be as gracious or accepting as you towards what they'd consider a bastard? Things never go tha' well."

"If I'm the head of the family they would have to do as I say."

"But if yer not, it's the end fer both of ya!" Heather snarled.

"You don't know..." He began, but she cut him off. "I think ya need ta feed the lass before she throws another tantrum," she snapped, fuming. Thrusting the baby into his arms, she left abruptly before they started arguing again. She needed to win him over and her temper wouldn't do that. He just didn't see things the way she did, he didn't know all the dangers an infant alone faced.

Holding his daughter, Draco spent a few minutes trying to figure out how exactly breast-feeding worked before finally getting a nipple in her mouth. It felt strange, but if he didn't think about it then he could ignore the tugging her suckling caused. Instead he studied her. He tilted his head this way and that, her eyes tracking his movements.

"You're so small." He told her as her fingers opened and closed. It was like she was trying to grab a hold of his hair, but couldn't quite reach. Not knowing why, Draco held his index finger out for her. She snared it and began squeezing with all her infant strength. He smiled. "What a strong grip. I bet you'll be able to catch a Snitch someday." Cassiopeia continued to suckle as Draco cooed over her.

He didn't know why he was doing it; he just couldn't stop himself. She was a baby, but she was his baby. A part of him was inside her, somewhere. Potter's influence was right there in her hair color, but his was still hidden. Maybe she'd look like him with Potter's coloring, or perhaps it would all lie in her talents. I don't know what to do, but I want to see what you'll become. You'll make it to Hogwarts someday and I know you'll wipe the floor with any Gryffindor that comes along. I want to see that.He smiled at the thought.

"Little Miss Cassiopeia Malfoy, you'll show those upstarts when you get to Hogwarts. I know you will, because you're a Malfoy. Just don't fall in love with any Gryffindor boys. They're nothing but trouble." He joked, smiling down at her.

Heather returned to the room after a while to find Draco asleep. He'd lain the infant down on the bed and curled around her protectively. Smiling she walked over and removed Cassiopeia, placing her back in her bassinet.

"Well, there's hope for him yet." She chuckled. "Now if I can only convince him ta do what's right." Fussing with Cassiopeia's blankets Heather prayed that Draco would see that this child needed him.