Draco stood there, frozen.
This
blonde, sleeping baby in his arms was his son.
He wondered if his father had ever taken the time to count his toes, or if he had simply been relieved in the continuing of the Malfoy line.
Another pureblood, another
Slytherin, another prefect.
Draco could see his son's life all
planned out; had his father done that?
Would he constantly be comparing
himself to his father, even now feeling his father's shadow and
sneer of disapproval?
Draco swore he would not.
The baby murmured softly in Draco's
arms. His baby.
"Hello Scorpius. I'm your father."
