She was the loveliest thing Hermione had ever seen.
“Look at her, Draco. She's ours. She's all ours. You're not going to hurt her.”
He stared down at his daughter for several seconds.
When he moved, she could tell that he'd stopped breathing. His fingers spasmed as he started to reach out. He hesitated and then just barely brushed the baby's palm as though he expected his touch to poison or break her. The tiny hand reflexively closed around his finger, gripping it.
Draco sat frozen.
Hermione watched him and recognised the expression in his eyes as he looked down at the little person who was clinging tenaciously to him.
Possessive and adoring.
Aurore Rose Malfoy was, according to Ginny, the easiest baby ever born. In appearance she was an almost perfect replica of Hermione, except for her astonishingly bright silver eyes and Draco's mouth.
She slept beautifully and rarely cried. She would lie for hours in her overly-indulgent father's arms, snoozing on his chest while he watched Hermione work in the lab. Aurore would gaze owlishly at pictures in herbology encyclopedias and sit very seriously while she teethed on her father's prosthetic fingers.
She was a quiet, solemn baby who matched her parents' seriousness, but her eyes had fire in them.
Hermione would carry her around in a sling, tucked up against her chest, where she could wrap her arms tightly and protectively around Aurore's tiny body whenever she felt nervous because the forest was too quiet or sky too wide.
Once Aurore could safely sit up, she would spend half the day sitting on Draco's shoulders, riding about with him while he checked the wards near the house.
Draco talked to Aurore more than he talked to anyone, even Hermione.
He would monologue to her about anything, about the trees, and the furniture, all the shops where he'd bought books for Hermione, about what the weather might be, and what all the colours and hues of the analytic spells meant. Aurore would listen to him intently and fret when he got distracted or fell silent for too long.
Despite Hermione's philosophical opposition to co-sleeping, Aurore slept in the middle of the bed between Draco and Hermione. It was not because Aurore needed her parents in order to sleep, but because they needed her. Hermione regularly fell asleep on the floor next to Aurore's cot, holding her hand. Draco would get up several dozen times at night to reassure himself that Aurore was still breathing.
Aurore barely touched the ground for the first year of her life. When Hermione or Draco put her down, Topsy would instantly appear and bustle away with her, or Ginny would sweep her off to play with James.
Aurore would sit with Hermione, stuffing quill feathers into her mouth and discovering what kinds of sounds she could make if she struck Hermione's collection of cauldrons with wooden stir rods.
When she learned to walk, she would trail after people like a little shadow, watching Ginny in the kitchen and gardens, Hermione in her lab, and Draco on his daily route testing the wards. She only needed to be told a rule once, and she would follow it perfectly.
She would have been almost angelic, if not for the influence of James Potter.
From James, Aurore learned race around the house on a toy broomstick at such breakneck speed that Draco would turn white; how to climb the hills and trees and scrape her knees and tear her clothes, and make soups and mudpies in the creek. She also learned how to wrestle, to Draco's eternal chagrin.
Hermione often woke in the night to find a tiny, serious face gazing intently at her, so close that their noses were nearly touching. It would have been almost terrifying if it had not been a regular occurrence since Aurore had been moved into her own bed.
“Mummy, can I cuddle you?”
Aurore always asked Hermione because the only rule Draco managed to enforce was that Aurore was not allowed to sleep with them any more.
“Don't wake your father,” Hermione whispered, scooting back against Draco's chest in order to make more room.
Aurore clambered into the bed, curling up tightly in Hermione's arms, her hands resting on Hermione's neck. She was asleep again in seconds.
Hermione nuzzled their noses together and closed her eyes.
“There are rules, Granger,” Draco muttered into her hair.
Hermione ducked her head forward. “I thought that was my line,” she said. “Besides, I didn't want to wake you.”
“I was awake the moment the door opened.” Draco's tone was disgruntled. “As long as she knows you're going to say yes, she's going to keep coming every night.”
Hermione hugged Aurore more tightly. “She won't want to cuddle forever.”
Draco shifted and slid a hand along Hermione's hip. “You've been saying that for over a year now.”
Hermione buried her nose in Aurore's hair. It smelled like moss and tree bark. “Well, it's been true the whole time. She'll grow out of it someday. I'll never know which is the last time she'll ask.”