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I disclaim everything. From here on out, things should get a little more interesting... hopefully! Dramione, anyone?

R&R, pretty please.

Chapter Two

  The Ministry of Magic was very busy today, Ginny Potter mused as she stood in the entrance hall. The walls were paneled with mahogany, while the ceiling was a peacock-blue, inlaid with shining moving symbols. Ginny looked to the floor, rolling her bright brown eyes as she found she could see her reflection in the extremely well-polished black wood. She could only see up to her bulging stomach, though. Oh, the joys of pregnancy.

  With only two short months to go, Ginny could barely wait to see her baby. Their baby; hers and Harry’s. What she would miss, however, was being able to balance tea on her stomach. Ginny, in a moment of hormonal insanity, considered eating a chocolate diet just to do that trick.

  Ginny, impatience seeping from every strand of her red hair, tapped her foot with irritation. Hermione had promised that she would be waiting for her down here. Rolling her eyes, Ginny was certain that her sister-in-law was doing some paperwork. That woman was a workaholic.

  Ginny sighed, rubbing her lower back gently. This baby was killing her muscles. Ginny slowly trotted to some uncomfortable-looking chairs, sitting down carefully. She let her head roll back as she rubbed her temples. What a day.

  Ginny, a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, was being forced to retire early. Did she have any say in the matter? Nope. Admittedly, in her “current state” as her manager had put it, she couldn’t ride a broom but after the baby was born she would easily be able to fly again. The manager for the team had reasoned that she would be at home with the baby, as she had such a busy husband, but Ginny hasn’t listened. Mere reason was not going to sway Ginny in her “current state”.

  “The cheek of that bloody letter,” Ginny grumbled under her breath, “Didn’t even have the decency to tell me in person…”

  Suddenly, Ginny was very aware that someone was watching her. Peering over her stomach, a small girl was watching her with intrigue. She had long, chocolate-brown hair and huge, orb-like eyes. Ginny smiled uncertainly at the girl, who didn’t return the gesture.

  “Hello…” Ginny said gently, looking around for the girl’s mother. She saw no one who looked like the girl, or who seemed to be missing a child. The girl said nothing. She sat next to Ginny, glanced at her for a moment, and patted her stomach. Ginny gaped at the girl in surprise.

  “Do you have a baby in your belly?” The girl inquired, her light-blue eyes alert.

  Ginny nodded, smiling slightly, “Yeah, I do. It’s a little boy.”

  The girl looked at Ginny again, “I like babies.”

  “You do?”

  The girl nodded, “My mummy told me that she was going to have another baby. Her tummy wasn’t big like yours though.”

  Ginny chuckled, “I’m Ginny.” The girl smiled slightly, still staring at Ginny’s stomach. She said nothing, so Ginny tried again, “Where’s your mummy then, sweetie?”

  The girl looked up at Ginny, “Daddy said that she had to go away for a while.”

  “Oh.” Ginny paused, “Where’s your daddy?”

  The girl looked around the hall, shrugging, “He went to see Uncle Draco, and he told me to wait over there for him.” She gestured to the golden fountain. Ginny’s eyebrows constricted as she frowned.

  She’d seen a man outside Malfoy’s office, who looked like the little girl. Blaise Zabini. He’d been in Harry’s year, at Hogwarts… conceited, he was. This girl was his daughter?

  “Is your daddy’s name Blaise Zabini?”

  The girl nodded, looking around. As if on cue, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy came out of the lift, near the fountain. Zabini looked around the room, flustered, realizing his daughter wasn’t where he instructed her to be. Ginny stood up, gently taking the girl with her by her hand.

  Ginny approached Blaise and Draco, her shoulders tensing for a moment. Draco saw her, but made no movement. He watched her walking, looking rather bored.

  “Is she your daughter?” Ginny asked melodiously, letting go of the small girl. Blaise spun around, his heart in his mouth.

  “Francesca!” Blaise knelt down, fear melting from his eyes. Ginny smiled slightly, nodding to Draco stiffly.

  Draco rolled his eyes, returning the nod curtly, “Never took you as a baby stealer. Aren’t you happy with the one you’re carting around, Weaslette?”

  Ginny chuckled, “More than happy, Malfoy. My bladder isn’t, though.” Ginny locked eyes with Draco, silently warning that she would go into more detail if he irritated her.

  Draco pulled a face. Ginny smirked to herself, as Blaise took his daughter by the hand and led her back to the lift. The little girl turned, waving, “Bye Ginny!”

  Draco rolled his eyes again, muttering to Ginny as he followed them, “Got you a bloody fan there, Weaslette.”

  “Potter actually, Malfoy!” Ginny called after him, in a chipper tone she knew would irk him, “If you’re going to try and piss me off, at least get the names right.”

  “Bloody hell…” Draco climbed into the lift, rolling his eyes. As the lift went up, he saw Granger-Weasley join Ginny. He turned to Blaise, forgetting about the small girl that was peering up at them curiously, “So, they all ended up with each other. How very uninteresting… predictable too.” Draco sneered, “Any bets that Potter is running around, saving the day in a pair of tights?”

  Blaise shrugged, “You’re with Pansy.” He paused, and added, “I don’t see why you’re so interested, if it’s so uninteresting.”

  Draco sneered again, his lips curling into a smirk. He ignored Blaise’s last comment, “Well, I am screwing half the female population along with that.”

  Blaise covered his daughter’s ears protectively, “Draco,” He spat sharply, “If you use any crude language that will taint my daughter in any way, I will personally make sure you will be physically ill-equipped to screw anything.”

  A tense silence filled the lift. Draco led the way to his office again, getting a little irritated by Blaise’s current mood. Blaise kept whispering to his daughter, who made little indication that she was being spoken to. Blaise looked worried, as the three of them stepped into the office.

  Taking a miniature bag from his pocket, Blaise returned it to it’s normal size with a fluid flicker of his wand. He dug into the suitcase, extracting a porcelain doll. He held out the blonde, fragile-looking doll to Francesca. She took it from him happily, not uttering a word. She wandered around Draco’s office, making the doll stand on everything. Draco winced as she slammed the doll down on a case file, which lay on his desk neatly.

  “I can’t deal with this,” Blaise muttered to Draco, glancing at his daughter. She couldn’t hear them; she was too engrossed to even bother trying to listen.

  Draco looked at him, “So, what is it you want me to do? Stay with her for a couple of hours, so you can dump the body somewhere?”

  Blaise shivered, “I don’t know…” He hesitated, “I need you to look after her… for a moment or two.”

  Draco coughed, “How long is ‘a moment or two’!?”

  Blaise massaged his temples, “Until I sort myself out.” He gestured to the suitcase, “All the things she will need are in there.”

  “What?” Draco blinked, in disbelief. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “I fucking hate children…” He frowned, adding, “And they hate me.”

  Blaise buried his face in his hands, stressed. He let out a moan of despair, “I can’t deal with this, Draco.”


  Draco ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair, trying to focus on the report in front of him. With no avail, he sighed and slid backwards in his chair. He placed the paper in front of him, musing momentarily if he would remember what report he was meant to be reading in the morning. He doubted it; not one word had sunk in.

  Francesca lay, fast asleep, on the sofa in the corner of his office. He had agreed, despite his better judgment, to look after the girl. Not for long, he had told Blaise bitterly. Draco hadn’t taken her back to his flat yet. He was unsure of how to get there. Had she even side-along apparated? Had she even used floo? He honestly had no idea, and he couldn’t get in touch his Blaise to find out.

  Draco, finishing for the day, minimized her suitcase and slid it into his pocket. Gingerly picking up the small child, he carefully held her against his chest. He could feel her heart beating, and it made him uneasy. She dribbled on his shoulder, and he grimaced. He didn’t like this.

  Blaise left him with a bloody girl. A girl! Draco didn’t know what to do with a girl. He had been a boy; he had things that a boy would perhaps be interested in – that would interest the child so it didn’t piss him off. What did girls like? He’d never been around girls; his mother had been around, yes, but house elves did most of the work a mother would have done. The only girls he was around now, that he actually noticed, weren’t ones he had conversations with… unless you counted screwing on a desk as talking?

  Draco spun on the spot, holding Francesca tightly. They appeared outside his flat. Draco opened the door hastily, taking the little girl inside. Draco walked into his bedroom, about to put the girl on his bed when he realized; he lived in a one-bedroom flat. Where the hell was he going to sleep?

  Draco put the little girl down, covering her roughly with the duvet. His soft duvet… Draco sighed, frowning darkly, and trudged into the sitting room. Taking off his shoes, he slid onto the sofa and rubbed his temples, swearing loudly.

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