The hard plastic chairs in the waiting area at St. Mungo’s Institute for Magical Maladies and Injuries were exceedingly uncomfortable, decided Draco Malfoy. He glanced around the room nervously, his eyes resting a second longer on the second door down the hall than on anything else.

He wound his fingers together, then unwound them. His rounded shoulders were hunched over his legs; his hair fell messily into his worried eyes.

The clock on the wall across from him ticked agonizingly slow. Tick. A gap in time that seemed to last hours. Tock. Another infinite timeless, soundless space. Tick. Draco stared at it, something at long last capturing his attention. He was pulled in, mesmerised by the sluggish tick-tocking and the bold, merciless black numbers.

A flash of light in the corner of his eye distracted him, yanking his attention away from the monotone clock. He turned his head, his body shifting ever-so-slightly. His legs slid closer together, his fingers laced, his hands clasping together.

The blinding flash had come from a silver snowflake dangling from the ceiling, twisting and turning in the non-existent breeze, winking in the lights. He watched it for a few moments before his gaze slid to the colossal evergreen tree in the corner with fake presents wrapped in brightly coloured paper underneath it.

He glanced back at the clock. The long hand slid into position with a tock, declaring to the room that night had officially ended and morning had begun.

Draco slouched back into his chair. Happy Christmas to me, he thought sourly. Stupid baby, having to come at eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve.

“A Christmas miracle,� Astoria had whispered as she closed her hand around his in the back of the emergency vehicle they used to transport people who were unfit to Apparate to St. Mungo’s. Her smile had been so sweet and tender, her eyes alight with joy and rapture.

Draco had closed his fingers around hers and kissed her forehead, whispering in her ear that he loved her.

Her lips parted to respond, but before any words could come out, her brow had creased and a soft moan escaped her. Draco put his other arm around her, pulling her close to him. She had closed her eyes and leaned back into him, her fingers tightening their grip on his hand with every contraction.

The entire trip to the hospital and through the building, to the delivery room, her fingers remained entwined with his.

Until they made to enter the room, that is. Astoria on the stretcher, the Immediate Response Medi-Wizard, and Draco didn’t all fit through the door at the same time. Astoria’s fingers had slipped through his, while more IRMWs rushed in with the Healers and Assistant Healers following a few paces behind. Draco had started to enter the bustling room, but he just couldn’t.

Ignoring Astoria’s pleading eyes and face, Draco had gotten away from the crowd of people as fast as he could, collapsing in the hard plastic chair of the waiting area.

He didn’t want the baby. It was an accident. He was happy with just him and Astoria and the love they shared. There was no room for some third, unknown party. He didn’t want to commit the next seventeen years to raising a child. He wasn’t ready for that kind of permanence. That kind of dedication.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love Astoria – he did. He just wasn’t sure he could love a child.

A child that could grow up and become a copy of himself.

He wasn’t ready to watch it. He didn’t want it. He was scared of it.

Draco leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Why did Astoria’s stomach have to swell and disturb the paradise they’d created?

Not that she thought that way. She thought that the tiny being growing inside her would make their paradise, paradise. His parents felt the same way. They’d been bugging him about an heir for years now. When Astoria had told them the news, she and his mum had immediately started making lists.

Lists of girl names and of boy names. Of things Astoria should eat and things she shouldn’t. Things she and Draco would need. Books they should read. Colours for the wailing infant’s room. Stores to shop at and stores to avoid at all costs.

Draco had almost vomited right there in his parents’ dining room.

A shriek echoing down the hall and into the waiting area pulled Draco from his musing. Before it died away, Draco was on his feet and moving towards the delivery room. There was a square window on the door and he could see inside.

Astoria lay on her back, her curly blonde hair clinging to her face with sweat. An Assistant Healer in light teal robes stood next to her head, whispering to her. Two Healers stood on each side of the bed, all of them waiting and attentive and completely relaxed.

As Draco watched, Astoria’s face screwed up in pain. He saw her bite her lip, hard. A few drops of blood oozed out of where her teeth held her mouth closed. Draco winced and turned away, seeking relief in his empty, plastic-chair waiting room.

The pain on her face was too much. He hated seeing her bleed or even bruise. He hated watching her face writher in agony. He couldn’t stand watching her hurt and being unable to do anything about it.

He felt weak. He felt powerless.

And he hated it.

Draco fell into his chair, putting his head in his hands.

The baby he didn’t want, causing the one thing in the world he did love pain.

It wasn’t fair.

Another muffled shriek resounded down the hall. Draco jumped up again, nearly sprinting to the room, wanting to save Astoria from the tiny demon. He stopped himself from bursting into the room, just in time.

Forcing himself to walk, he turned away, again. Instead of falling into a chair this time, when he reached the waiting space, he remained standing. For a moment. Then, he was moving forwards, his feet slamming into the hard tiles as he paced the floor. That became all he could hear, intermittent among his vying thoughts.

Slap! She’s in pain. She needs me. I want to go to her. Slap! It’s that – that thing! Do you really want to see it? Slap! I love Astoria. Slap! Do you want to watch her go through all that pain and then look at it like it’s the only thing that matters in the world? Slap! Astoria – she’s screaming again. Slap! Because of that awful, wretched, life-destroying – Slap! Astoria!

Draco looked up, panicked, into the room in front of him. Now, Astoria’s lip wasn’t the only thing bleeding. She looked horrible. Draco felt his heart fall out of his chest and plunge straight down.

Her face looked as though it were permanently creased with lines of pain. Her eyes were wild and crazed; he could tell nothing had ever hurt this bloody much. Draco’s throat constricted; he couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t move. He was stuck, rooted to the ground, eyes transfixed on his wife.

Time slowed down. All he could see, all he could hear was Astoria. The Healers and assistants blurred together, until they disappeared from his sight completely.

“Excuse me, sir.� A voice behind him shook Draco back into the moment. An Assistant Healer came around from behind him as he stepped aside to let her through. “Are you lost?� she asked him politely.

Draco blinked in surprised. “No,� he said. “I think I know where my wife is.�

The Assistant Healer took her turn in blinking in surprise. “Your – your wife?� she stuttered.

Draco nodded.

The Assistant Healer looked flabbergasted. “But – but why aren’t you in there?�

Draco shrugged. He searched for answer that could explain everything he was feeling right then.

The brunette Assistant Healer wasn’t going to wait, though, and her shock and disbelief was rapidly changing into anger. “So what? Did you go to the tea shop and have a drink? Since there wasn’t anything you had to do, you just left? She can go through the messy and painful part by herself and you’ll show up just in time to see your son?�

Draco didn’t hear anything she said, except for the last two words. Your son. Your son. Your son. My son. Before, the baby had always been just that – “the baby�. No gender, no one that it belonged to. Just “the baby� or “it�. And now, this woman, with her burning eyes and harsh tone, had gendered it and given it a family.

Your son. My son.

He stepped back and looked into the delivery room at Astoria.

Her son. My son. Our son.

He both despised the words and what they meant, and felt a sense of wonder at them.

Your son. My son. Her son. Our son.

And the Assistant Healer was still going: “She’s been calling and calling for you. We all thought that you were away at work or somewhere you couldn’t get away from – what kind of husband would abandon their wife at the time in her life when she needs him most? Well, you, I guess. You just – ‘couldn’t handle it’, huh? What is there too much blood? Or is it – �

The time in her life when she needs him most.

Draco stepped around the Healer, who was still going, and half-entered the delivery room.

She’s been calling and calling for you.

He moved all the way into the room. One of the Healers by Astoria’s torso moved aside, making room for him, but other than that, they paid him no mind. That was gratifying to Draco, who’d expected accusing glares, at the very least.

Astoria opened her eyes a crack and looked up at him. “Draco?� she murmured. “Where were you?� Before he could respond, her face scrunched together and she let out a wailing moan.

Where had he been? He just stood there, watching her groan, unable to say or do anything. Her face relaxed and she looked back up at him, her stare piercing.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. “I,� he tried, and his voice cracked. He turned his head away from her, and cleared his throat. “I was – � He stopped again and looked back to Astoria. She stared up at him, her eyes confused and hurt.

He blinked and looked away from her face. His eyes zoned in on her clenched fist. He stared at it, ignoring Astoria herself, and the Healers who were trying to pretend as though they weren’t interested in his and Astoria’s conversation.

His hand should have been in hers. Her nails should be drawing blood from his palm, not her own. His hand should have been there so she’d know she wasn’t alone.

He reached out and touched her fist. Her fingers twitched. Gently, he pried them apart and slid his own in place. Automatically, her hand closed around his.

“I’m sorry,� he said softly to their hands. Then, gathering his strength, he looked up into her eyes. “I was being – stupid. I had to think.�

Astoria looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Think?�

Draco looked away, then back at her again. “Yes,� he mumbled.

“All right, I – ahhh!�

Her fingers tightened around his, her nails digging into his skin, breaking it. Draco smiled. He wasn’t forgiven, but he was wanted – needed.

“One more push, Mrs Malfoy,� said one of the Healers, smiling at Astoria.

Astoria smiled up at her husband. “Are you ready?� she asked him.

“For what?�

“Your son.�

Your son. Am I ready? My son. I have to be ready. Our son. For Astoria. I have to be here – ready – for her.

Draco gripped his wife’s hand. He looked into her eyes and smiled back at her. “Yes.�