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The Baby

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The stretcher was taken away in a rush and Scorpius was left alone in the empty corridor. He looked around, cold hands trembling, as if the magic was escaping from his fingertips and leaving his body. He gingerly sat down in the visitors corner before jumping up at the sound of Pansy’s heels.

“Did they take him in already?” she asked, taking off her huge magenta sunglasses. “Is it time?”

“I think it is, but … it doesn’t look good. Dad looked weak and the Healers said that it wasn’t planned like this, it wasn’t supposed to happen today.”

Pansy’s cheeks visibly paled but she forced a smile.

“They are taking care of him,” she said, patting down Scorpius’ shoulders with long nailed, clumsy hands. “He’s in the right place, darling. Now, let me see if I can reach Greg and Theo. I’ll be right back in a minute.”


“Darling,” she called, before turning away. “Did you call Harry?”

Scorpius’ eyes filled with tears.


Draco sat down on the hotel bed; his black velvet suit created a stark contrast against the white duvet he was sitting in. He pat down the soft surface, straightening its folds, until he heard the door open and fixed his own jacket.

“Hey,” Harry’s hair was impossible and his half-smile brighter than sunshine.

Draco breathed slowly to summon his courage and took a tiny vial from his pocket, full of green and blue liquid.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked.

“Yes, Ginny used wizardly pregnancy tests. What is this about?”

Draco put the vial away.

“I suppose you’re aware of wizardly pregnancy too. Male pregnancy,” he emphasised.

Harry paled, his mouth wide open.

“I have Veela genes,” Draco explained in a casual tone. “I suppose that admitting it like this, to you, would make Father apoplectic and Granger quite satisfied - although does the Ministry of Magic enjoy small, petty victories?” he chuckled. “In any case, I … I meant to be careful, but I messed up something. Clearly.”

His lover was still looking like a fish out of the water.

“You’re going to catch a fly,” Draco tried to joke. “If you don’t close your mouth.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither did I.”

Harry frowned and carefully approached the bed.

“How are you? What ... do you want to do?”

“I’m considering my options.”


“Would it disappoint you if I choose not to keep it?"

“It’s your choice,” Harry said. “I can come with you, stay by your side.”

Draco blushed violently, as if he wasn’t expecting that reply. He looked at his trembling fingers and bit his lip.

“You never give up on your Gryffindor chivalry, do you?”

Harry shook his head, sitting down next to him.

“We are in this together, aren’t we?”

Draco sighed.

“This was supposed to be easy, devoid of complications. I was starting to feel like … like we finally belonged again, like Scorpius was safe. His friendship with your son Albus is very important to him and makes him feel like he’s not an outcast in this world. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Why would you ruin anything?”

“They’re going to ask questions, the press will be on us,” Draco replied.

Harry’s expression changed, his restrained control almost giving in to a frown of disgust. He hated the press. It was but a moment, then his hand rested on Draco’s knee, stroking it soothingly.

“Whatever comes our way … we’ll deal with that. I’ll stay by your side.”


Scorpius was sitting in the visitors corner, playing mindlessly with his Hogwarts sweater; it had a hole in its left sleeve that turned from tiny, almost invisible, to the size of two fingers stuck together.

His godmother, Pansy, was explaining his father’s condition to Mr Potter. Albus’ father. Harry.

“Can I go in there?” he was asking. “Can I see him?”

“The Healers won’t allow it, they are doing their best right now.”

“I’ll stay here, then. I’ll wait until they come out. If there’s anything I can do …”

“Sit down and try to relax, Harry.”

Scorpius was sticking his forefinger in the hole, when Harry sat down next to him.

“Scorpius?” he called. “Can I sit next to you?”

The boy raised his head, nodded. Harry smiled at him.

“How are you doing?”

Scorpius shrugged. A warm, hesitant hand rested on his shoulder before lifting up again.

“I’m here to stay with you. The Healers are going to come out in a few minutes and we can ask about your dad together, if you want. I can ask them to let you in, if they’ll allow it …”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?”

Harry frowned.


“Are you sure?” Scorpius insisted, his eyes finally finding Harry’s gaze.

“I am,” the man answered.

Scorpius seemed to believe him because he nodded, chin resting on his closed hands.

Harry studied his expression, almost reminded of Albus’ thoughtful frown, and felt a surge of protectiveness spreading in his chest like warm milk.

“It’ll be alright, kid,” he whispered, gently patting his back.


Harry was manually arranging cut roasted ham on pieces of bread, a dishcloth placed on his shoulder.

“You could use your wand, you know that?” Draco drawled behind him.

“Mh …”

“I’ll never understand you, Potter,” he murmured, walking towards the cooking wizard. “You seem to think that the boys will be famished after coming back from the Burrow?”

“They always are,” Harry replied. “Despite Molly’s best efforts.”

Draco nodded, staring at his nails.

“When do you think they’ll be back?”

“A couple of hours, I reckon ...”


Harry washed his hands at the sink and put the sandwiches on a plate, under a Stasis charm.

Draco leaned on the stove.

“Do you think we have enough time?” he asked, grey eyes brightened by desire.


They fell on the bed with a noisy jump.

Draco squirmed against the pillows, raising his arse that Harry greedily grabbed and pulled towards him.

“Fuck!” Harry muttered, removing his trousers and boxers.

He licked a stripe of skin from Draco’s thigh to his buttock, biting down on his firm flesh, savouring the other man’s groan.

“Please … be quick!”

“I won’t be rushed through this,” Harry replied, opening his own zipper and Summoning the lube wandlessly.

“Oh really?” Draco exclaimed. “But you’ll show off!”

Two wet fingers entered him with tortuous slowness. He sighed, burying his head in the pillows. Harry was a gentle, attentive lover; he took his time preparing him and seemed to enjoy the process of making Draco come undone.

“You sadistic, soppy bastard …” Draco moaned, a trail of drool coming off his open mouth.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Harry retorted, slapping his arse playfully before sticking into him with a blissed groan. Draco had to grab the base of his cock to avoid coming just from that; he started to push against Harry but the Gryffindor bastard took hold of his hips and established a slower rhythm.

“You really enjoy being this dominant and fucking me at your leisure, don’t you?” Draco moaned.

Harry let one hand slide from his back to his shoulders and hair. He grabbed a fistful of blonde locks and brought his mouth closer to Draco’s ear.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “Or maybe I’m going to lay on my back after this, let you spread my legs and shag me on this mattress like a good boy.”


“You like the idea, don’t you?” he whispered, biting the shell of his ear. “But first let me give you this,” he punctuated with a strong thrust.

Draco’s eyes rolled back in bliss.


A door was slammed and Scorpius jumped on his seat, opening his eyes. He must have fallen asleep while he was comforted by Harry, who was chatting with a green dressed Healer.

“How’s my dad?” Scorpius asked, when the wizard came back.

“He’s stable,” Harry replied. “They told me that much, at least. He lost blood but he’s recovering and the baby … she’s recovering too. They told me she’s in the nursery, in a special spot for healing newborns. I … you should rest, Scorpius. If you want to go home …”

“My dad is my home,” Scorpius retorted. “I’m going nowhere.”

“I didn’t mean it like that … I just wanted to …”

Harry’s confused stuttering was interrupted by the arrival of his sons, James Sirius and Albus Severus, standing by the entrance of the ward.


Albus stood very still, while James Sirius ran towards his dad and Scorpius.

“We came as soon as we heard. How are they? Is there anything we can do?”

Scorpius had just opened his mouth, when he felt Pansy’s hand clamping upon his shoulder.

“I think it’s time for my godson to take a break,” she said. “You Potters can wait here.”



“Come in, darling. I’m here.”

Scorpius closed the door behind him and stepped towards the bed where his father was sitting.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

Draco shook his head, patting on the duvet.

“I was just resting. Come sit by my side.”

“A Healer came by, I saw him step out of the Floo … I …”

“Sweetheart, sit. I’m not sick, I promise you, but I have to tell you something.”

Scorpius didn’t seem persuaded; he sat down next to his father and waited for his explanation. Draco found himself at loss of words and his son’s rashness somehow solved his indecision.

“If it’s something bad, you can just say so! I can deal with stuff, you know, and you are looking weird and ...”

Draco stopped the upcoming stream of concern by taking Scorpius’  hands in his own.

“It’s not something bad, Scorpius, but I have to decide if it’s good.”

The boy fell silent, he looked up at him with big, scared doe eyes.

“I’m … pregnant,” Draco confessed, blushing despite his best efforts to control his reaction. He coughed, straightening his posture, then continued. “I discovered it a couple of weeks ago and I’m considering my options. But I’m fine, you don’t have to worry.”

“Pregnant?” Scorpius repeated, after a moment of stunned silence.

“Yes. I believe I’ve told you that some wizards with Veela ancestors can conceive …”

“You told me, it’s not that. You’re … pregnant.”

Draco’s blush intensified.

“I am.”

Scorpius seemed to mouth off a “why” but then he shut his lips, staring at his father.

“Are you … seeing someone? Do I know this person?”

A series of Lucius-Malfoy-branded excuses and veiled reproaches came to Draco’s mind. But he had decided to be honest with his son, especially after confessing the truth about his pregnancy. He stroked Scorpius’ knuckles.

“I expected to be better at this, but alas here we are,” he chuckled. “I’ve been seeing a man. The reason I haven’t told you about it is because I didn’t know where we stood - him and me - and I wasn’t sure how important our relationship was for him, and for me too I suppose.”

“And it’s important?” Scorpius asked.

“I believe it is,” Draco replied. “But first I have to know that you’re okay with this, with me having such a relationship. I understand it’s a lot to ask of you, with the knowledge of the pregnancy …”

“I’m happy if you’re happy, dad.”

Draco smiled though there were tears in his eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder … I was never a selfless child, I was quite spoiled and despotic to be honest, I wouldn’t have taken the news as well as you’re doing now,” he said. “I’m very proud of you, Scorpius, you must know how proud I am.”

“I know,” Scorpius replied, squeezing his father’s hands.

“It’s Harry Potter,” Draco confessed. “The man I’ve been seeing, the father of the baby. The other father, to be precise ... It’s your best friend’s dad,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to put you in a difficult position or to embarrass you. I know how important your friendship is.”

“You’re not embarrassing me. How could you?”

Draco’s laugh sounded hoarse.

“You really are special,” he whispered, brushing Scorpius’ curls.

“Are you going to move with Harry? Are you keeping the baby?”

Draco shrugged.

“I’m considering the possibility,” he said. “I’m glad I’ve told you.”


The tea was warm enough, but the cafeteria sandwich was mushy and bland; Scorpius was breaking the bread slice and playing with it as Pansy chatted with Greg, a dear friend of his father’s.

“Are they still there? And what about Lucius and Narcissa, should we tell them?”

“They’re going to know eventually. Do you want to be the one to break the news? I mean, they might appreciate the effort but I don’t know if the old man would be so grateful, he’s so moody these days ... “

After having reduced his sandwich to crumbs, Scorpius decided it was time to throw it in the bin and get a breath of fresh air.

“I’m going outside,” he announced, standing up to leave.

“Where, what?”

“The sandwich wasn’t really great,” he offered with a persuasive smile. “I’m going to see if I can find something else to eat.”

“Okay, good,” Pansy nodded. “Do you need Galleons, Muggle money?”

“I’m good.”

His godmother examined him with a worried frown before smiling back.

“Alright, darling. Go take a walk.”

Scorpius forced one more happy grin and headed to the nearest exit.

The air outside was damp and cold, but felt like a blessing to his lungs. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

“I’ve been looking for you,” said a voice from behind. “Can we talk?”

Scorpius turned to Albus, standing by the emergency door, the face of a beaten puppy dog and a bandaged arm held closely to his chest.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked instinctively.

Albus frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“This?” he pointed at the arm. “It’s nothing really. Just an accident at Quidditch. Can we talk, please?”

“You don’t like Quidditch.”

“Yes, it was a stupid idea and … I’m sorry, Scor. About what happened, I mean.”

Scorpius squeezed his mouth shut so tight his lips turned white and purple.

“You are my best friend in the whole world,” he retorted. “You were supposed to be there for me in times like this. But you were so pissed about our dads dating and you buggered off everything! You turned your back on me.”

Albus’ shoulders trembled.

“I know,” he admitted. “I fucked up.”

“You’re always so focussed on your stuff, you forget that I … I …”

Albus shook his head, chin trembling.

“I know,” he said once again. “I really am sorry.”

Scorpius shrugged.

“How is your dad?” Albus asked, daring to take a step closer.

Scorpius didn’t react.

“He lost blood,” he sobbed out in defeat. “I’m worried about him, Al.”

Albus moved even closer and opened his arms in a silent invitation. “I know, I’m so sorry. I can hug you, if you want?”

“Yes, please,” Scorpius sighed.


The door was slammed, its sound echoed in the room. Draco closed his eyes, unconsciously laying a hand on his abdomen.

“Wait a second,” Harry blurted, following his youngest son storming out of the room.

When Draco heard his footsteps coming back, he opened his eyes again.

“This went as well as we should have expected, didn’t it?” he half-joked, despite the sadness of his tone.

“I’ll talk to him, I’ll fix this,” Harry answered quickly.

“You knew people wouldn’t accept the news easily.”

“Al isn’t people! He’s a good kid, he must be feeling overwhelmed at the moment.”

“Clearly,” Draco replied. “He’s already competing for his famous father’s attention with the world. Adding another child …”

“He’s not competing with anything!” Harry objected. “He has my attention, he’s actually … been avoiding me since Hogwarts started, and been colder since Ginny and I divorced. It isn’t about attention!”

Draco raised a single eyebrow, then tapped his fingertips on the kitchen table in front of him.

“There’s still time to think about a solution, I’m just at the beginning.”

“What do you mean? Getting an abortion?”

Draco sighed and Harry felt the rage rising in his chest.

“Really?!” he exclaimed.

“You said it would be my choice,” Draco pointed out, grey eyes sharp as knives. “Will you get mad at me if I don’t pick your preferred solution?”

“No!” Harry retorted. “It’s not about that! I told you that I’ll support your choice and I will but … you’re giving up so easily? Just because of Al storming out?”

Draco bit his lip.

“You love your son, he’s important,” he said after a moment.

“He is,” Harry confirmed. “But so is this … different type of important, but important all the same,” he knelt in front of Draco, eyes pleading. “I’m asking you for a chance to work this out …”

“I don’t want to raise another son alone,” Draco whispered.

“You won’t. I swear it, you won’t.”


James Sirius walked up and down the corridor with his slow and slightly bouncing gait, hands inside his pockets and teeth biting down on the laces of his Gryffindor sweatshirt. He turned to look at his father, sitting in a corner with hands on his head and the expression of a defeated man. He didn’t dare to get closer to him, didn’t know what to say.

A Healer came by.

“Mister Potter,” she said, voice steady. “Your baby seems to be recovering at reasonable speed. We are very optimistic about her discharge by the end of the week, she’s responding well to the protective, nurturing magic.”

“Is she?” Harry murmured, raising his head. “What about the father?”

“Mister Malfoy was stressed enough by the sudden delivery, but there are no reasons to assume he won’t start recovering just as fast as his daughter. Do you want to see her?”


The Healer tilted her head.

“I came here to say that you can visit her, if you want. She’s in a restricted section of the nursery and I can accompany you there.”

“The nursery …”

Harry seemed at a loss for words, as if he wasn’t really understanding what he was told. James Sirius thought it was time for him to intervene.

He grabbed his father’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“We’d love to see the baby,” he said. “Dad, let’s go.”


They followed the Healer through a silver door that lead into a dark, quiet room. As soon as they entered, sparks of magic enveloped their bodies like molecules of shiny, blue dust; Harry looked at his son, raising his hands and marvelling at the feeling of them.

“It’s a simple precaution,” the Healer explained. “The babies in here are often in delicate conditions, we need to surround their bodies with stable magic and neutralise every possible disturbance,” she pointed at a cot, where a minuscule body was laying surrounded by waves of greenish lights. “Here, that’s your baby.”

James Sirius leaned over, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Is she …”

“Two point seventy-six kilograms and forty-eight point twenty-six centimetres long,” the Healer said. “Regular measurements for a baby at her stage and we are optimistic she’ll keep growing, she’s responding so well to the medications. Mr. Potter please, come closer,” she urged Harry. “It’s a momentous occasion for a father and while I understand your worry, I know for sure that your baby will benefit from direct contact with you.”

Harry didn’t seem to catch the idea and stood still on his feet.

“Dad,” James Sirius whispered, reaching out for his hand. “Come here.”

As soon as he got closer, he was able to distinguish the features of his sleeping daughter; incredibly thin and small, skin flushed red and eyes shut, tiny fingers protruding from her white camisole. Something ripped inside him; his chest burning with a familiar despair that came from a fathomless love too painful to bear.

James Sirius must have felt his stiffening, because he tightened his hold on Harry’s hand.

“It’s okay. She’s here Dad, she’s safe.”

“That’s very much the truth, Mr Potter,” the Healer confirmed. “I’ll give you a moment with your children then,” she said, walking away.

“She’s so tiny!” James Sirius whispered after a moment. “Was I this tiny?”

Harry shook his head, trying to focus on the question.

“Not really,” he said, working on the memories of James Sirius’ birth. “You were a bit fatter, though not like your brother. He was quite impressive.”


Harry chuckled.

“Yes, I remember your mum complaining about it. She seemed to forget once they let her hold him, Albus was a lovely newborn baby.”

James Sirius smiled, his mischievous face brightened by the warmth of the magical lights. Harry let out a strangled sob.

“I’m sorry …” he choked out. “I’m sorry for this. I didn’t mean to hurt … her. You.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” James Sirius replied.

“I should have done better … with you and your brother, with … her. I don’t want you to suffer.”

“We are not! I’m …” James Sirius frowned, then wrapped his father into a firm hug. “It’s going to be okay. If you’re worried about Al, he’ll get over it soon, I promise you,” he whispered, trying to convey all the determination he felt. His Dad seemed to crumble in his arms and cry out his pain in a way he had never seen before. “Dad …”

“I’m sorry, Jamie … so sorry ....”

“That’s okay,” he reaffirmed, squeezing his arms tight. “I’m with you. It’s going to be okay.”

Harry sighed and kissed his hair.


They entered the hotel room together, as they often did; this time Draco ran straight to the internal bathroom while Harry stayed outside, by the door. He heard retching sounds that made him feel nauseous too.

“I can go downstairs and ask for a potion,” he tried, unsure about Draco’s reaction.

Since they met, he looked tense.

“Don’t,” he heard after a moment. “Don’t go.”

Harry sighed, pressing the back of his head against the doorframe. He heard the flush and then Draco muttering an Aguamenti. He sighed once more.

“Don’t do that,” Draco warned, coming out.


Draco agitated his hands, walking to the opposite side of the room. He muttered another spell that failed, because his magic was jittery.

“I can help you …”

“Don’t!” he protested. “Don’t treat me like an endangered Bowtruckle in need of saving.”

“I hardly think of you that way …”

Draco sat down, still glaring.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Hearing that sentence made Harry’s blood boil. He clenched his jaw and pressed his open palm against the doorframe.

“Is that what you think I feel?”

“I don’t know what you feel.”

“You bloody well do!” Harry exclaimed; Draco didn’t seem to be able to endure his stare and turned his face, eyes downcast.

“My parents don’t approve,” he whispered then.

Harry’s rage evaporated.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wasn’t expecting anything different from them, after all. They were always wrong. How could they even begin to understand how good you are?”

“I’m not …”

Draco chuckled.

“Yes you are.”

Harry walked towards him, kneeling in front of the bed.

“You can still choose, you know? Anything you want,” he whispered. “Just … don’t shut me out, please. I don’t like to be apart from you.”

Draco’s eyes brightened up with an unspoken emotion, he stroked Harry’s cheek as tenderly as he could.

“Would you like to join me under the covers?”


They helped each other get out of their clothes. Draco’s robes were covering his barely protruding belly that he absent-mindedly held with his open palm as he slipped under the covers. Harry joined him, laying on top of him, careful not to press down too heavily.

They started to kiss, slow and sweetly, wanting nothing more than to take comfort in each other.

“Draco …” Harry moaned, pushing back the white blond hair covering his lover’s face. He kissed him deeply, achingly well.

“Harry …” the other wizard called, looking up at him. “I want it.”

Harry paused.

“I want this baby,” Draco confessed. “I want our baby,” he half-smiled, hesitant yet hopeful.

Harry let out a sob, smiled back.

“I want it too,” he replied, cradling his lover’s face in his hands as if he was the most precious, fragile gift. “We can do this, we can.”

Draco laughed, kissing his lips once again.

“I want to,” he whispered. “I want to.”


James Sirius was walking up and down the ward, his fingers endlessly teasing the wand he couldn’t use. Harry almost wanted to stop him, for the sake of not having him fight with Albus, who surely wouldn’t react well to his brother’s restlessness.

Except that Al was sitting quietly in his corner, next to Scorpius, and his eyes seemed full of sorrow and shame. Harry felt the need to console him.

He was taking a step towards him, when the Healer approached.

“Mr Malfoy is awake and feeling better. He would like to see his family.”


Scorpius ran towards his father first.

Draco was resting in the bed, a pale peach gown covering his sweaty skin, hair still damp and dirty, pushed back, and a tender smile on his lips as he welcomed his son in his arms and squeezed tightly his scrawny shoulders.

“I’m sorry I made you worry, Scorpius,” he murmured resisting the urge to cry. “I’m good now, I’m here.”

Scorpius sobbed out, fingers clenching at his father’s gown.

“Everything is alright,” the wizard whispered, pressing a kiss in his son’s hair.

Of all the things Draco Malfoy had learned in the long years of redefining his ideas, the best by far was the ability to be openly affectionate towards his son. Scorpius only had him in all the world, his only family and protection, and he deserved a most caring father.

This was one of the reasons Harry fell in love with Draco, among other things. Harry was currently standing next to the hospital bed, his sons right behind him.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Albus started, determination over shame. “We came here to see our newly born baby sister and I … I came here to apologise for lashing out after I heard about you and dad.”

Draco stared at the violently blushing, proud boy, clenching his fist and looking him in the eyes. He was truly Harry’s son.

“Thank you,” he replied. “It means a lot to me… and to your father.”

Harry gulped, clearly too emotional to reply. He was staring at Albus too, his green eyes full of something Draco recognised as Harry’s immense, forgiving and bright love.

Albus gave him a tiny, robotic nod and then openly smiled when Scorpius walked towards him with a happy blush on his cheeks.

“It’s nice not to be fighting,” the blond boy said. “Let’s not fight forever.”


Ginny arrived an hour later, the Holyhead Harpies’ bag on her shoulder and the warmest embrace for her sons, especially for Albus. ‘She knew’, Harry thought, watching his youngest child whispering something in her ear, ‘She always knew how to comfort their Al’.

This time thinking about that didn’t make him feel a lesser parent or a failed father, he simply understood how much he still needed to learn and how much it mattered - for Al and Jamie and himself - to let his sons see the man he truly was.


* Epilogue

Harry entered the guest room where the boys were falling asleep in their chairs.

He and Ginny had arranged for their sons to stay at Harry’s when she was on tour with the Harpies, and now with Scorpius and the new baby there were adjustments to make, but Harry was looking forward to it. Having his family close made him feel extremely energised.

He Leviosed the kids’ bags into the corner, discovering a portion of the wall where they must have experimented with paint: they had tried different stripes of pink and green, clearly choosing the colour for their sister’s room.

Harry chuckled, sniffling back the happy tears.

He kneeled next to Albus who had his arm Healed and was sleeping on a chair with his back to the wall; Scorpius’ head was on his shoulder and James Sirius’ face was pressed against his thighs. He smiled and transfigured the chairs into comfortable sofas.

The boys’ bodies fell down into the softness of the padding; James Sirius’ head slid from his brother’s knees to the pillows Harry fixed for him, as he snored, blissfully unaware.

Albus crinkled his nose, opening one eye.


“That’s me. Go back to sleep, kid.”

Harry saw a spark of comprehension in his son’s eye, then his expression relaxed as he curled into the sofa.

“Thank you,” Al sighed.

Harry pressed a kiss on his forehead and went back to the master bedroom, where Draco was sitting with their daughter.

“They were exhausted, weren’t they?” Draco whispered, rocking the bundle in this arms. “They jumped into the guest room as soon as they arrived, I don’t even know why.”

“You’ll see,” Harry replied, leaning towards the baby’s sweet smelling head. “She’s sleepy too.”

“She’s a lovely child,” Draco smiled. “Pity for her hair though, but Scorpius had black hair at his birth too.”

Harry frowned.

“I suppose that your hair would look better on her …”

Draco grinned.

“Seriously, Potter? Did fatherhood take away all your sass? Our child is going to look beautiful no matter what and I must admit … I’m growing quite fond of your unruly mop,” he said, pressing a kiss on Harry’s forehead. “I love our little Potter-Malfoy mixture.”

Harry grinned back at him, brushing their noses together and burying his face in Draco’s collarbone as he stared at their newly-born baby.

“I can’t believe she’s finally here.”

“I can’t either,” Draco replied. “I look at her and I can’t believe … she’s yours, Harry.”

Harry looked up at him.

“Ours, you mean.”

“Yes, but … I didn’t believe this would ever happen to me: having a baby with the man I love.”

Harry smiled.

“I love you too,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on Draco’s lips.

He kissed him back, before turning to the baby who was closing her eyes. Pressing an finger on her chin, Draco smiled: “Sleep well, darling Lily.”