About that...

Delphini smiled widely as she held Harry’s hand as they walked into the Great Hall. Her eyes instantly widened and she waved wildly to her Papa who had a smug smirk. 

“Harry?” Delphini muttered, tugging on Harry’s hand gently till he looked down.

“Delphi?” Harry responded, grinning down at her.

“Can I go sit up there for breakfast?” Delphini asked politely as she smiled widely, knowing that Harry is a sucker for her toothy grins.

“With who? Professor Dumbledore?” Harry asked her, confused as to why a 6 year old would want to sit up there.

“No, no, with Papa!” She said as she subtly wiped her sticky hands on Harry’s robe.

“Papa?” Harry responded, his brow furrowed.

“Please?” Delphini begged, her eyes watering strategically.

“Um, okay?” Harry allowed, almost forgetting their odd conversation due to her face full of pure joy.

“Thanks, Harry!” she yelled loudly, unlatching her hand from Harry’s and running up to the top table. 

Harry watched her skip excitedly before allowing Hermione to pull him down to his seat at the Gryffindor table.

“Did you hear that?” Hermione whispered quickly, her face worried.

“Um, what?” Harry said blankly. 

“She called our new teacher, ‘Papa’,” Hermione said, pulling on Harry’s sleeve, indicating as to where Delphini was clinging to Professor Moldove.

Harry’s heart ached at the sight.

“Poor girl, she is calling the only older figure in her life, one she doesn’t even know that well, her ‘Papa’, she is so confused-” Harry mumbled, pitying this sweet girl who has truly captured his heart.

“No, you dingbat! Moldova must be her father!” Hermione corrected impatiently, her eye’s judging the man who left his daughter.

“What? You think that Moldove is her biological father?” Harry asked Hermione, astonished at the mere idea of that possibility.

“Think, Harry! She calls him ‘Papa’, they seem to know each other, they are very comfortable in each other’s presence, as well as the fact they look similar!” Hermione said.

Well, just as she said it, Harry guessed that one could draw that as a possibility. Ignoring the fact that Moldove is a snobby Slytherin, and that Delphini can’t possibly be related to such a person, they did look slightly similar. Dark hair, same posture, same stance- but those are wide aspects, grouping people together just because of their hair colour and then just because of the way that they act. 

“Hermione, I know it’s hard sometimes to be told that you are wrong, and I really hate to break it to you, but-” Hermione cut Harry off.

“Harry, if you honestly can’t see how they have similar behaviour or don’t believe that they act too comfortable with each other, assuming it’s their second time meeting each other, or her calling him ‘Papa’, you are truly an idiot,” Hermione said calmly.

Harry huffed. “You are being dramatic Hermione, I get her, I don’t have any parents, I saw any old person as a parental figure, she’s just a child, let her figure it out -” Hermione cut Harry off once more.

“Maybe you are right Harry- we don’t know her past- this could just be a coping mechanism-” Hermione mumbled.

“Well, of course I am right, I am Harry Potter,” Harry replied cheekily, smirking at Hermione.

“Just when I thought you weren’t an idiot,” Hermione sneered playfully.

Ron coughed loudly next to them both, giving them a fright.

“Pass the bacon, won’t you Harry?” Ron asked, his mouth dry from toast.

“Yeah, of course Ron,” Harry passed the bacon.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Voldemort took delight in his daughter’s wide smile as she skipped happily over to his seat. She wore childish overalls, not appropriate for the heiress of Lord Voldemort to ever wear outside of their home, yet uterally adorable. She had a green bucket hat on, her family color, Voldemort couldn’t help but internally coo at. Harry might have knitted it for her. It does look homemade, ugly thick wool, yet the fact that his Horcrux dedicated time to knitting this with the sole purpose to keep his daughter- no, their daughter warm, well, Voldemort can approve.

“Morning!” Delphi chirped, grinning up at Voldemort.

“Good morning,” Voldemort chuckled, smirking as his daughter scrambled onto his lap.

“Hug?” She asked, raising her arms slightly. Voldemort wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head quickly. She settled down soon after on his lap.

“Breakfast, sweetheart?” He asked her, watching her nod quickly.

He poured her a small goblet of juice before placing a quick unbreakable charm onto it, for he would hate for her to accidently drop it.

She quickly gulped  it as Voldemort filled a small bowl with cereal, gently placing it in front of her to eat. She put her goblet down and looked expectantly at Voldemort.

“Delphini would like Papa to feed Delphini please,” She said to Voldemort in a sickly sweet tone, as if she was speaking to a particularly slow child. 

Voldemort fought back a sneer at his own 6 year old daughter.

“Delphi is old enough to feed herself,” He scowls.

“Delphi never learnt because her Papa was never with Delphi growing up,” She repeated slowly once more, as if she wasn’t emotionally blackmailing Voldemort.

“Delphini is smart enough to learn,” Voldemort responded, refusing to let a 6 year old manipulate him.

“Mama always feeds Delphini-” Delphi says, looking longingly at Harry.

“Well, Delphi can go sit with Potter then,” Voldmeort sneers, only his daughter would attempt to manipulate him!

“Delphini likes Nagini better,” Delphi whispers under her breath, just loud enough for Voldemort to hear.

Voldemort snorted at his daughter, a young child yet already acting like an angsty teenager. 

“Does Papa not love Delphi?” Delphini asked Voldemort, her eyes glittering in a way that must have only been forced. Voldemort was proud to see her manipulating skills advance this far, yet slightly annoyed that she attempted to use it on him.

“Delphini, eat your cereal or go back to Potter,” Voldemort said firmly, pushing the bowl back to his daughter who was scowling. 

Voldemort knew from his days before Hogwarts that kids had tantrums, but like this? He would have thought his own offspring, who carried his genetics, to be at least slightly more controlled and mature of their emotions. But she is only 6, Voldmeort mussed. 

Looking back at his pouting daughter, who was perfectly capable of using a spoon sturdily, as she shows him right now as she consumed her cereal, eyes narrowed angrily at Voldemort.

“Delphini finds Papa very frustrating, she much prefers Mama and Nagini,” Delphi hisses at Voldemort as she shoves her half empty cereal bowl back at him, slides off his lap, and trots happily back over to Harry.

Parenting is hard. Much more difficult then he imagined, especially with a daughter as sassy as Delphi, Voldemort thought has he too stood, walking out of the great hall to go set up for class.

If only he noticed the gaping professors behind him, who were no doubt listening as the kid who Potter was babysitting called him, ‘Papa’. 

And if only he noticed the twinkling eyes that followed him out of the great hall, the ones that seemed to be almost ‘all-knowing,’ the ones that didn’t blink twice at the, quite frankly, ridiculous name, ‘Derril Tom Moldove,’

And if only he noticed the small girl who was scowling at him, wondering if her father was someone she actually liked, wondering if she prefered her life back home with Harry. (And that gaping feeling in her chest she couldn’t help but asscoiate with missing Teddy and that jealous feeling she got whenever he was around her and Harry.)

And if only he noticed Hermione, who had her eyes narrowed, mind racing of thoughts, and not at all convinced that he wasn’t Delphini’s father.

And if only he noticed Malfoy Jr licked his lips behind his back and stared longingly at him in lust. Well, not noticing that one would probably be best, for he wouldn’t know if he could hold himself back from sending a cruico, or better yet, the killing curse to get that disgusting lustful expression of Lucius' offspring.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dumbledore pat Fawkes gently.

“What should I do?” Dumbledore mused aloud as his phoenix cooed. 

It was tough, he didn’t know if he was doing the right thing by getting Harry to look after Delphi. He could be putting extra pressure on Harry, who was no doubt trying to juggle his life around escaping Voldemort, his upcoming N.E.W.T.s, and babysitting all day every day.

Fawkes squawked loudly as Dumbledore drew himself from his thoughts and back to his shrieking phoenix.

“You are correct, Fawkes, I too believe that Harry can handle it,” Dumbledore softly sighed, drowning himself in the endless mental rambles that came with being an old man.

“I just worry for him, he truly exceeds all my expectations, and I would truly hate for him to push himself-” Dumbledore cut himself off with a loud huff.

“There is no purpose in worrying, I have much to do,” Dumbledore said to himself, stroking his beard and drawing his eyes to the large pile of unread books he was gifted recently. 

Much to do indeed.