Chapter 11

Trudging into the lobby of the hotel, Draco glanced at the crowd of people waiting around. The desk clerk gave him a quick smile before answering the man at her counter. Holding the bag of groceries, Draco trudged up the stairs to his room. Bloody Muggles, he thought. Don't know why Heather insists we live like them.Sighing, he paused outside his room. Inside he could hear Cassiopeia crying and Heather's voice singing to her. She can't be hungry already, she just ate an hour ago. Unlocking the door, he reluctantly walked in.

"Ah, yer back. Ya didna have trouble at the market now?" Heather asked upon seeing him.

"No." He shuddered. Setting the groceries on the dresser, he began unpacking. Diapers, formula, baby wipes and ointment, it was all for Cassiopeia.

"The staff is throwin' a Christmas party fer the guests, I thought it'd be good fer us ta go." Heather said coming over, the baby's cries dulling to a whimper.

"I'd rather not," Draco replied, turning abruptly and heading towards the bathroom.

"Ya need ta get out an' interact with them." She told him as he shut the door.

"That's what I was doing at the market." He growled. Heather shook her head. Shifting her charge to her shoulder, she walked towards the bathroom. Cassiopeia sniffed, her eyes focusing on her godmother's shoulder length hair. Her eyes had changed color from blue to gray and she was able to hold her head up without much support. Not that her father noticed. His earlier dutifulness had ebbed and turned to grudging drudgery. More and more Draco was withdrawing from her. Instead, shoving the responsibility onto Heather.

"We're livin' amongst Muggles now. Stayin' cloistered up 'ere like some monk isna gonna do ya any good. Our money isna gonna last forever." Heather stated, swaying back and forth to keep Cassiopeia occupied. "One o' us, most likely you, is gonna have to get a job."

"I'm a Malfoy." Draco snapped.

"Which doesna mean crap here," she snarled through the door. "We agreed. Hidin' amongst the Muggles was the only chance we had ta throw your father off our scent."

Bracing his hands on the sink, Draco stared down at the running water. It was true, they'd agreed on it. Still, he wasn't happy wandering around the streets with them. He couldn't do this. He was a wizard, how could he give up using magic? Cassiopeia squealed outside causing Draco to cringe. Every noise she made grated on his nerves. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and she'd be a month old. The day after was Christmas, his first Christmas without his family. The Muggles couldn't do anything in comparison to the splendor and beauty he'd known all his life.

Turning off the water, he dried his hands on a towel. He had a job to do now, get Cassiopeia's afternoon bottle ready for her. Opening the door, he found himself face to face with the Irish women and his infant. She wore a frown on her face and he knew he'd displeased her again. He wasn't cut out for this; he shouldn't have run. He should've just given in to his first instinct and left the baby at an orphanage.

"I'll get her bottle ready," he grumbled brushing past them. Cassiopeia squealed again causing him to flinch.

Watching him slowly go through the motions of preparing the formula, Heather felt like she was losing a battle. He'd shown promise, but he'd grown remote once they'd arrived in Australia. She knew postpartum depression when she saw it, felt it once herself. Every mother went through it and like it or not, Draco was the 'mother' in this situation. Heather was trying to be supportive and encourage him to go out more. There was no sense being cooped up all day when it was bright and sunny outside.

"It's the time o' year," she mumbled, patting Cassiopeia on the back. "Christmas just does this ta people." The baby shifted, resting her head on Heather's shoulder. "It'll be all right lass. He's almost completely male again. The last o' the female hormones will be gone an' he'll feel better." She hoped that would help. Something needed to be done soon though. Draco couldn't go on as he had for much longer. Cassiopeia didn't deserve it.

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They were singing Christmas carols outside. They sounded a bit slurred meaning at least half the chorus was drunk. Draco had opted out of the Christmas party telling Heather he didn't feel well. The midwife had seen no reason of depriving his offspring of her first Christmas party and had gone. The revelers voices crescendoed as they passed his door. Pulling a second pillow over his head, he hoped to drown out their merriment.

He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be home. The House-elves would've made a grand feast with puddings and roasted meats. Vegetables drenched in various glazes that made his mouth water at the memory. Pastries and other sugar confections would be arranged decoratively waiting for the end of the meal for him to enjoy. His parents would talk politely, perhaps even affectionately to each other as they ate.

Afterwards, they would lounge by the fire in the sitting room admiring the gifts they'd opened that morning. Lucius almost always gave Narcissa a new item of jewelry, which she'd fawn over for the rest of the evening. Every so often telling him how much she loved it and that he was wonderful to think of her. Draco could almost hear her voice now, thanking him. What was this Christmas like? What was his mother saying about his absence? Lucius had no doubt told her of their son's indiscretion, and she was glad she'd not witnessed it.

He whimpered. She hated him. She must. How could what he'd done make her happy? Curling into a ball, Draco felt like crying. His parents hated him; he was an abomination to the family name. He didn't deserve to be a wizard. Tears filled his eyes. A baby out of wedlock with the wrong person and now living as a Muggle, was there anything worse? He hated himself. Cassiopeia hadn't asked to be born, she shouldn't suffer for his mistake, but she was. It was all his fault. He shouldn't be a parent, he shouldn't be here, he shouldn't...

Sobbing into the hotel sheets, he wanted to die. His name was soiled; the Malfoy name was tarnished because of his irresponsible actions. Now he was forced to live with consequences. A bawling infant, dirty diapers and disapproving glares from the woman who'd insisted on becoming her godmother. This was his future. I don't want it! I don't want it! he thought, bitterly gulping for air. Twisting the covers tightly around him, Draco sought solace in the pain it caused him. He no longer deserved comfort nor did he expect any. Every day brought a new hardship he would have to endure.

The lights were off when Heather returned. Turning on a lamp, she noticed Draco entwined in his bed. She passed him quietly, tiptoeing to the crib set up for Cassiopeia. The baby was asleep, exhausted from all the excitement of the party. Placing her on her blankets, Heather took out something from her pants pocket. It was a tiny gold wrapped package. Green ribbon tied in a bow held a card from one of the hotel staff. The woman had slipped it to Heather saying that she knew how hard it was to be a single parent, especially this time of year. Placing the gift on the nightstand next to Draco, she hoped he would understand what it meant. He wasn't alone, others had made the same choice.