Draco didn't put much thought into it when he named his child. He didn't give a damn really, and neither did Astoria—they were just happy beyond belief that it was a boy for god's sake. Malfoys weren't exactly known for being fertile stock—they were no goddamn Weasleys with children pouring out of their ears. No, they had class.

But no, Draco smiled when he found out that he had a son with his white blond hair and silvery gray eyes, and just chose the first two constellations he could think of for his name in less than a minute's time—it's what all the rest of his family had done, at least on his mother's side anyway. Wasn't it simpler that way?

He never quite considered the fact that he was tossing a hell of a mouthful of a name on his poor son, just like he never quite considered any of his actions towards the boy.

Scorpius was a necessity, required to continue the noble [but not so noble any more, really] Malfoy line—they never really wanted him, exactly. And so Astoria smiled as she told the Mediwitch her son's name and passed him to the nurse that he would spend most of his childhood with. And Draco managed to look pleased but professional as he shared the good news. And on they went with their lives.