Present Day: Friday, 28th September 2007
Ginny shut the door behind Draco with a quiet click, her hand lingering on the handle for longer than necessary. She exhaled slowly and turned back toward the kitchen, steeling herself for what she knew was waiting on the other side of the door.
The moment she stepped in, her family's chatter quieted, replaced by six sets of eyes turning toward her. The kitchen was warm and bustling, as it always was, but there was a definite shift in the atmosphere, the obvious shift that comes when the current topic of conversation appears in the room. Predictably, Ron broke the silence first.
"I can't bloody stand that git," Ron huffed as he set the plates on the table with a deliberate thud. "The way he walks in here like he's doing everyone a favor—honestly."
"Ron…" Hermione turned to him to shoot him a warning look, but he only rolled his eyes, turning back to the cupboards.
Ginny moved to the stove, lifting the lid off a simmering pot as the steam curled up into her face. "Always a delight to walk into your delightful commentary, Ron."
"What are we supposed to say, Gin?" Ron asked calmly, shrugging his shoulders. "You asked him to pick Ivy up here. What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking," Ginny replied, her frustration rising as she moved to the table and stood across from Ron, "that I didn't have time to wait at home for him. I'm here helping with this dinner, same as you, and he did me a favor. Is that a crime?"
"I don't know how you do it," Ron continued, ignoring her. "Having to see him. Talk to him. Trusting him to take your kid like that… It'd drive me mental."
"I guess it's a good thing then that you're not the one who had a baby with him then." Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head, pressing her palms against the counter as Ron visibly cringed. "He's Ivy's father, Ron. That's not exactly something I can ignore." Ginny sighed, rubbing her temples. She felt utterly worn down by the same old argument, dragged out every time her family members happened to remember that Ivy didn't pop out of thin air.
Ron shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Still don't know why he needed to come inside."
"What was I meant to do, Ron?" she asked. "Have him wait outside like a bloody delivery owl?"
The room fell silent again in an awkward tension. Bill and George exchanged glances at the counter. Hermione stood at the sink rinsing greens, her fingers moving absently. The comforting aroma of roasting meat and simmering vegetables filled the kitchen, at odds with the current mood.
"What really threw me is she calls him Daddy," George chuckled, clearly aiming to lighten the mood. "Had no idea she called him that. Never would have guessed. He seems like the type who'd insist on Father." His grin widened. "Bet it drives him mad every time she says it. Probably already plotting to ship her off to some pureblood manners camp to sort her out."
Laughter filled the air, even Arthur joining in with a quiet chuckle as George leaned into his joke. "Imagine Draco Malfoy, gritting his teeth while she runs around yelling 'Daddy! Daddy!' at full volume."
"Maybe that's why he's always so uptight," Bill added with a smirk. "Might explain the permanent scowl."
Ginny waited, her expression carefully neutral as the laughter echoed around her. Once it finally died down, she gave a small shrug.
"He picked it."
George blinked, caught off guard. "He what?"
Ginny met his eye before turning to her mother. "You were there, Mum. Remember?"
Molly froze, her spoon hovering over the pot. She cleared her throat awkwardly, her discomfort visible as she turned back to her stirring. "Yes, well," she admitted. "I suppose I do."
Ginny nodded slowly, "He's a lot of things," she said, glancing around the table, her tone nearly pleading. "But he's a good dad."
The awkwardness was palpable, the silence hanging heavy in the air. Arthur coughed into his hand, clearly unsure of what to say. Bill avoided looking at Ginny entirely, and even Ron, for once, kept his mouth shut.
They never knew what to do when Ginny didn't join in their Malfoy shit-talking.
Ginny closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Oh, before I forget, Ron… what's this about you telling Ivy he's rubbish?" she said suddenly, pointing a spoon at him.
Ron blinked, genuinely confused. "I didn't tell her he's rubbish."
Ginny's eyes narrowed. "She told him, 'Uncle Ron says you're rubbish.' What am I supposed to take from that?"
"I said he's rubbish at Quidditch," Ron said defensively. "And he is."
"Oh, well, that's so much better," Ginny said, throwing up her hands. "How would you like it if I told Rosie that you're rubbish at Quidditch?"
Ron smirked, holding back a chuckle. "First of all, Rosie's one, so she's not going to care. And second, that would be a lie. Is that what you want, Gin? To lie to a baby?"
Hermione groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Ron, that's not the point."
"Then what is the point?" Ron asked, spreading his arms. "Ivy's not going to notice stuff like that."
Ginny stared at him, her frustration simmering just under the surface. "She notices everything, Ron. She's almost four. She knows when you're talking about her dad."
"She doesn't," Ron said stubbornly. "I'm careful. I don't actually say anything in front of her that she'd—"
"You say that," Ginny interrupted sharply. "But she's already picked up that you think her dad's rubbish. So, forgive me if I'm not exactly reassured." Ginny turned to the rest of her family. "I think she picks that up from all of you, honestly."
Molly turned from the stove, her face creased with worry. "Ginny, love, we're just…" she said hesitantly. "It's not easy seeing you deal with all of this. With him. Knowing what he—"
"What he what, Mum?" Ginny interrupted again. "What he's done since Ivy was born? Show up when he's supposed to? Keep every promise he's made to her? To me? It's shocking to me too, but he's been a good father. And Ivy adores him. That's all that matters."
Molly's mouth pressed into a thin line, but she nodded, not pressing further.
"You know what I don't get," George said, clearly not finished, "is why he didn't let Ivy stay to play with her cousins. You could have dropped her off at his later. Everyone wins."
"Because it's almost her bedtime," Ginny said wearily. "And Draco doesn't let her skip bedtime, not for anything. He's… particular about keeping her on schedule."
"Control freak," Ron muttered.
Ginny sighed, it was like living the same conversation over and over. "Or maybe he's just trying to keep things stable for her, Ron. You know, like a decent parent would."
Ron snorted, smiling. "Right, because that's what Draco Malfoy is—stable."
"Ron!" Hermione snapped again. Ginny could tell by her tone that Hermione must have coached her husband to avoid this topic today. Ron was definitely being scolded in a very deliberate way.
Arthur cleared his throat softly, drawing her attention. "We just never imagined everything would be so… complicated for you, dear." he said gently.
Ginny sighed, reaching behind her head to fidget with her ponytail. She hadn't imagined that either. She wasn't angry at her family—not really. They'd always been protective of her, and Ivy, too. But four years on, it still felt like they were frozen in time, unable to truly move past the shock of her unexpected pregnancy and who it had brought into their lives.
Hermione gave Ginny a sympathetic look, but Ginny didn't notice. Instead, her eyes drifted to the window. Outside, the sun was getting low, casting the type of glow over the garden that only late fall can bring. Percy and Audrey were happily playing with their oldest daughter, joined by Bill's girls and George's kids. Their laughter floated in through the glass. Nearby, Angelina sat on a blanket with Rosie on one knee and Lucy on the other, both watching the older kids play. The sight made her chest tighten painfully. Harry's wife sat next to her; baby James wrapped up tight against his mother.
Everyone else gets this, Ginny thought bitterly. This easy, picture-perfect version of family. This uncomplicated version of parenting.
And then there's me.
She looked away from the window, her stomach twisting with exhaustion and resentment.
She looked back to the table just as Molly, in an effort to cut through the tension, said brightly, "Well, one thing's certain—whatever else is going on, Ivy's turning out wonderfully. She's a lovely girl."
The others murmured their agreement, nodding and chiming in.
"She's a smart little thing," Arthur added, giving Ginny what she knew to be a pitying smile. "And kind, too. Can't ask for more than that."
"She's brilliant," George agreed, leaning back in his chair. "Ivy's not the problem, Gin. We all adore her."
Ginny allowed herself to soak in the words, but it didn't help. Not really. Even though she knew her family was sincere in their praise of Ivy, Ginny couldn't shake the ache in her chest. The knot in the pit of her stomach only grew. She couldn't help but wonder if this unease, this discomfort, would ever truly go away—or if this was simply how things would always be. The unspoken 'in spite of her father' behind every compliment she would ever receive on her daughter. The politeness that never stopped feeling forced, the distance she had created between herself and her family.
She set down her spoon, her fingers curling against the edge of the table. Outside, the happy sounds of her nieces and nephews floated in again, and for once, she wished she could shut it out. Despite her earliest misgivings, Draco had stepped up in ways she never expected. If she was forced to admit it, his parenting sometimes outstripping her own. What would it take for her family to see what she saw?
3 years, 11 months and 23 days ago:11th October 2003
The room was dim, the only light coming from a single lamp near Ginny's bedside. There was a calm and quiet that can only be found after loud, joyous moments. A midwife's assistant hummed as she tidied up after the delivery. Ginny lay back against the pillows, her face pale, sweaty, but her eyes shining with wonder as she watched the tiny bundle in the midwife's arms. Molly was at her side, whispering comforting words of praise on her daughter for a job well done.
Draco stood off to the side, every muscle tense. He felt like an intruder in someone else's moment, like he didn't belong here. Part of him ached to step closer, to see her up close, while the other half screamed at him to escape the room and the unexpected intensity of the moment.
The midwife turned to him. To her, the scene was not all that unusual. It didn't matter the circumstance of how the baby came to be, she had seen that look on a thousand fathers before and would see it on another thousand before she was done. Fear and joy and wonder and terror oscillating so quickly no emotion had a chance to truly land in their expression. Hands in their pockets as if they were fooling anyone in the room into thinking they weren't trembling.
"Would you like to hold her?"
He pursed his lips together, unsure. He looked questioningly from the midwife to Ginny, who nodded slightly, her lips forming into an exhausted but reassuring smile.
"Go on, then," she said in a raspy but gentle voice.
Slowly, he nodded, stepping forward with stiff, awkward movements.
The midwife guided him gently as she placed the baby in his arms and the air left his lungs. She was so small, so light, and impossibly delicate. He stared down at her, watching as her tiny fingers curled against the blanket.
"She's…" He trailed off, unable to find words.
Ginny chuckled softly from the bed, her voice hoarse but warm. "I know."
The midwife smiled knowingly, stepping back to give them their moment. Draco glanced up at Ginny, a flicker of hesitation still in his eyes, but her tired smile steadied him. He looked back down at the baby–his daughter– trying to hold in the feelings that he was so sure were going to take time to come.
"Hey there–" he tried to speak in a gentle whisper, but his voice cracked with unexpected emotion. He cleared his throat to try again. "Hey there, little one."
The baby shifted slightly, and his chest tightened. He hesitated, then whispered so that Ginny and Molly could barely hear, "I'm your daddy."