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."