Present Day: Friday, 28th September 2007

Draco Malfoy apparated just outside the wards of the Burrow, the crisp September air hitting his face as he steadied himself. It was always disorienting to appear where the weather was different. Here, the air was crisp, the faint scent of damp leaves and woodsmoke hitting his nose.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting the collar of his tailored robes as he viewed the lopsided house ahead. Its crooked windows were lit brightly against the early evening light. It looked warm and cozy, drawing in all who were welcome.

He was not.

He hadn't set foot here in years. He interacted with the Weasley family occasionally, but always on neutral ground. It was an unspoken rule in this strange arrangement, a way to keep things civil, or at least manageable.

But today was an exception. Ginny had asked for a favor. He could count on one hand the number of times she had done so and couldn't say no. Please. My schedule is a mess. It would help me out a lot if you could just meet us at my parents… Just this once…

He exhaled sharply and spoke the phrase that Ginny had shared with him to bypass the wards. The subtle ripple of magic parted, and he walked toward the door. He knocked only twice before the door was flung open.

There Ron Weasley stood, his expression flashing disbelief then irritation, and then - much to Draco's annoyance - something dangerously close to amusement.

"Well, well," Ron mocked. He stood in the doorway in an exaggerated pose clearly designed to intimidate. His chest was puffed up, his arms crossed, his stance wide. Draco thought he looked ridiculous. "Draco Malfoy, in the flesh. What's the matter, Malfoy? Got tired of being hated everywhere else? Trying your luck here?"

Draco clenched his jaw, but kept his tone even. He hadn't risen to his bait in four years and he wasn't about to start now. "I'm just here to pick up my daughter."

Ron scoffed, though his shoulders stiffened slightly. "Ginny mentioned that, yeah. Can't lie, I half expected you to send a house-elf or something."

Draco couldn't help but show the faintest flicker of contempt on his face although his ultimate goal was to keep it neutral when dealing with this particular ginger. "Charming as ever, Weasley," he said with a tight-lipped smile.

"Ron, let him in," Ginny's voice carried into the room from somewhere deeper in the house. "You're not his parole officer."

Ron scowled but stepped aside, muttering, "Maybe I'm not, but someone should be," as Draco brushed past him into Ron's childhood home.

Draco ignored the comment. As he stepped into the home he immediately felt uncomfortable. Not because the home itself was inhospitable. No, Draco was immediately surrounded by the warmth of the Burrow, a warmth not meant for him. He smelled something sweet and freshly baked, and from the next room over he heard the sound of people mingling and moving about in the next room. He would not be going in that room.

Ginny appeared from the kitchen, a towel draped over her shoulder and her hair tied back loosely. She glared at her brother before closing the distance to greet the father of her child.

"Thank you for coming here. Sorry about him," she said with a knowing sigh. "He's just… well, you know how he is."

Draco's hands slid into his pockets as he glanced around, his voice dry. "Fortunately, I'm not here for the hospitality."

Ginny rolled her eyes but didn't bother responding. Instead, she turned toward the staircase and called, "Ivy! Did you get Mr. Puff? Daddy's here!"

The sound of tiny, stomping feet echoed down the hallway, and a little girl appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching a well-loved stuffed dragon to her chest. Ginny's family often thought-but would never admit-that Ivy was a perfect blend of both parents. On her face Draco's sharp, aristocratic cheekbones were softened by Ginny's jawline and button nose. Her gray eyes, so unmistakably Draco's, lit up the moment they landed on him.

"Daddy!" Ivy's cried out as she used her endless preschool energy to bound down the stairs to him, clutching Mr. Puff tightly.

Draco crouched down, expertly catching his daughter in his arms. "There's my little dragon," his voice losing its usual edge as he kissed her on the cheek. "Have you been good for Mummy?"

Ivy nodded emphatically. "Uncle Ron said I'm the best, but he says you're rubbish…"

Draco glanced over Ivy's shoulder at Ron, who had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, the most shit-eating of grins gracing his face. "Uncle Ron sounds like a very wise man," Draco said dryly.

Ginny groaned, facing her brother and shooing her hands at him. "Ron, come on. Back to the kitchen. Please."

Ron reluctantly retreated, not risking further angering his sister. Ginny turned back to Draco, her hands on her hips. "Her bag's by the door. I've sent snacks, a few changes of clothes."

Draco adjusted Ivy on his hip and gave Ginny a pointed look. "Ginny, she has clothes at my house. Snacks too. I do know what she likes."

Ginny exhaled, her posture softening just slightly. "I'm just trying to help."

"And I appreciate it," Draco replied evenly, though there was a faint smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "But I've got it handled."

Ginny pressed her lips together, clearly resisting the urge to argue, but instead she nodded curtly. "Fine. Just… don't let her talk you into any more sweets before dinner."

Draco gave her a dry look. "It's like you forget which one of us is the strict one."

Ginny opened her mouth, no doubt ready to retort, but must have changed her mind as she closed it without saying anything. She retrieved Ivy's coat and hat from the hook near the door and handed them to Draco. "Here," she said, helping him settle the coat around Ivy's shoulders.

Ivy squirmed slightly as Draco tugged the coat around her, clutching Mr. Puff tightly. "I don't need a hat!" she protested, her tone verging on a whine.

"Yes, you do," Ginny and Draco said in unison, sharing a brief look. Obviously, they were both veterans of the battle to get their daughter to wear her cold-weather gear.

With Ivy bundled up and secure in his arms, Draco shifted his attention back to Ginny. "Right, we'll be off now," he said, before any more conversation could be had that would delay his departure from this place.

Draco turned to leave as Ivy twisted around, waving enthusiastically over her dad's shoulder. "Bye, Mummy! Bye, Uncle Ron!"

From the kitchen, Ron's voice carried out, dripping with sarcasm. "Take care, Malfoy. Don't trip over that stick lodged up your-"

"Ron!" Ginny snapped loudly in the voice she knew would silence even him.

A chuckle escaped Draco as soon as he was out of Ginny's earshot. He adjusted Ivy in his arms, meeting her expectant face.

"Can we go flying, Daddy?" she asked in the voice she knew he was most likely to say yes to.

Draco kissed the top of her head. "We'll see. Let's get home first."

As they reached the apparition point, Ivy began rambling about the stories Uncle George had told her. She spoke, as children this age often do, so quickly that he could barely follow. He hummed occasionally in response, letting her excited high-pitched stories fill the quiet.

Once they arrived at Draco's townhouse, Ivy immediately wiggled out of his arms, her little feet running before they even hit the floor. The house itself was elegant but understated, deep black trim framing its pale brick facade. A dark iron railing and gate encased the front of the building. The stairs leading to the black-painted double doors were a lovely contrast in delicate grey. Ivy darted toward the sitting room which contained her neatly kept collection of children's books.

Draco set her bag down by the door and hung up his cloak, smiling as he watched her excitement. "Alright, princess." He raised his eyebrows, preparing himself for what he thought had a decent chance of turning into a debate. "It's dinner time."

Ivy turned quickly to her father, her gray eyes turning silver with glee. "Flying! Flying first!"

Draco gave her a look of mock concern. "Flying on an empty stomach? I didn't realize I'd raised such a reckless dragon."

Ivy scrunched one side of her face in contemplation. Her little mouth pressed into a small 'o'. Draco knew this as the face she made when she was deciding if she was going to try and argue her way out of his parental decree.

"Here's what we do," Draco said, straightening up and folding his arms, "we eat first - quickly - and then I'll let you fly for a bit before bed."

Her eyes narrowed, studying him as if trying to decide how negotiable this deal was. After a beat, she gave a serious, business-like nod. "Okay, Daddy. But can I wear my dragon cape?"

Draco smirked, folding his arms. "The dragon cape, of course. A critical part of any proper flying ensemble."

Ivy ran to her bag before returning, clutching the green fabric with tiny hands. "Help me, Daddy!"

Draco stepped forward and knelt down, sighing in an exaggerated way, carefully fastening the clasp at her neck. "You know," he said, tugging at her hood so the dragon's 'snout' sat perfectly on her head, "you might be the most demanding dragon I've ever encountered."

Ivy twirled dramatically, her cape flaring out behind her. "I'm a fierce dragon!"

Draco stood, brushing off the imaginary dirt from his expensive, charcoal-grey trousers. "Yes, very fierce," he patted the dragon on her head. "Now, dinner. What'll we have? Chicken or pasta?"

Ivy paused, and Draco watched her face, he could practically see the cogs turning before Ivy decided. "Pasta!"

"Good choice," Draco replied, ushering her toward the kitchen with a light touch to her shoulder. "Now let's hurry, or bedtime will come before your broom ever leaves the ground."

Her little face blew out in shock at the warning, and she quickly scurried ahead, her dragon cape flaring out behind her as she ran. Draco shook his head, unable to keep the smirk from returning as he followed.

Dinner passed quickly, and true to his word, Draco took Ivy and her small broomstick to the park across the street from their townhouse. The charmwork on it ensured she couldn't fly too high or too fast, but Ivy didn't seem to care. She erupted in to giggles as her toes brushed the tops of the grass. Draco kept pace behind her, holding the end of the broom steady.

"Look, Daddy, I'm flying!" she shouted over her shoulder, her dragon cape floating softly in the wake behind her.

"You're doing brilliantly," Draco beamed, though his chest tightened with a feeling he still wasn't entirely comfortable acknowledging.

Moments like this, when she beamed at him with unrestrained joy, made it easy to push aside the complexities of their reality.

It was much sooner than she would have liked when the park lights came on, the stars came out, and Ivy's yawns started coming one after the other. Draco carried her back inside, her head resting on his shoulder as she mumbled sleepily about dragons and flying.

After getting her into pajamas and tucking her into bed, Draco sat beside her, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"Daddy?" the soft, drowsy voice murmured.

"Yes, Ivy?"

She blinked several times while looking up at her dad, trying and failing to keep her sleep heavy eyes open. "Are you and Mummy ever gonna live in the same house? Like Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione?"

Draco couldn't stop his face from falling, but he recovered quickly before Ivy noticed. His mouth opened and then closed when no words came. How could he possibly explain that he and Ginny weren't like her Aunt and Uncle, that their tenuous bond had been forged out of the necessity of unexpected parenthood, not love? How could he tell her that everything between him and her mother began and ended in one tipsy, impulsive night, and that what existed now was a fragile truce built for her sake?

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," Draco brushed her hair aside and kissed her forehead. "We'll talk about it another time."

She nodded sleepily, already drifting off. Draco sat there for a long time, watching her breathe as he did every bedtime he had with her. She looked most like her mother when she was sleeping. Eventually, he stood, extinguishing the light in her room before retreating to his study.

Draco stared at the fire as he sank himself into his favorite leather chair with a glass of firewhiskey. Ivy and her incredibly innocent question still on his mind. The familiar burn of the drink did little to distract his thoughts from wandering, not for the first time, to the unfairness of it all.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to grow up shuttling between two homes, with two parents who could never quite give her the stability she deserved. All for a decision made by two young idiots who never stopped to think of the possible consequences.

Draco hadn't wanted to be a father at all before this, but now that he was, it grated on him that this fractured arrangement was the best he could offer. Two separate, albeit decent, parents. No warm, united home. No mum and dad under the same roof.

As often happened when he thought of Ivy, Ginny drifted in to his mind.

He wondered if Ginny ever experienced the same feelings of insecurity. If the life they both lived, just separately, sat uneasily with her too. They'd grown into a solid coparenting team, but theirs wasn't the kind of relationship where they discussed things like this, or really anything resembling their own feelings at all. Did she think about Ivy's upbringing the way he did? Did the handoffs, the division, the gaps, make her uneasy as well? Or had she found what Draco hadn't? Had she made peace with it all?

Draco scowled, tipping back the rest of his drink. It was a foolish thought, one he didn't allow himself to linger on. This wasn't about him, or whatever feelings crept into his chest when he thought about the mother of his child.

It was about Ivy, and how he'd let her down.

He leaned his head back against the chair, warm firelight on his face and body contrasting the cold he felt inside. For all the mistakes he'd made, this felt like the one failure he couldn't mend, the kind of scar no logic or reason would ever cure.