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Harry hadn't been this awestruck since he first learned magic was real. This time, however, he was amazed and humbled by his tiny infant daughter. Draco would probably tease him about it, but he was currently in an exhausted slumber. Giving birth was not for the faint of heart.
Harry had nothing but admiration for Draco's fortitude. He wasn't sure he could have handled it as well. Draco's pregnancy had not been easy. It took him over a year to conceive, which Draco saw as a personal failure on his part. Not helping matters was the fact that Seamus and Justin, who were trying to conceive at the same time, managed the feat in only a few months. Draco brewed the potion for himself as well as for Justin, which only compounded his feelings of inadequacy.
Harry smiled fondly at his husband, recalling how frustrated Draco had gotten. He'd been in no particular hurry himself. Harry was eager to start a family too, but he was content to let it happen when it happened.
After a few false pregnancy alarms, Harry learned not to get his hopes up too high when Draco tested himself. After so many months of disappointment, he'd ceased testing regularly. Harry would never forget the day Draco learned he was truly pregnant. He'd been more tired than usual and complained of indigestion. Harry finally urged him to take another pregnancy test. Draco immediately scoffed at the suggestion, even as his eyes brightened with excitement. He'd tried to be nonchalant, waiting until after tea time to do the test.
Only Draco's shout of joy from the en suite had allowed Harry to brace himself before Draco burst out and tackled him onto their bed to share the happy news. They laughed together and celebrated with a shag, after which Harry and Draco had cuddled in bed, making plans for their future.
Draco's joy didn't abate until the nausea began. He was as sick as a crup for the first eight weeks. Harry began to seriously regret their decision to become parents when Draco grew wan and listless. Fortunately, the next few months were better.
Draco's appetite returned with a vengeance, and he wasn't just hungry for food. Harry reaped the benefits when Draco's libido ramped up. As the pregnancy progressed, however, Draco became more uncomfortable, and he gradually lost interest in any intimacy. Harry learned to bite his tongue and to make do with a wank. Physical contact with his husband amounted to back rubs and foot massages. Harry had to remind himself that growing a baby was hard work, which enabled him to indulge Draco without complaint.
In the week before their daughter was born, Draco had been confined to bed rest. It was left to Harry to become the errand boy, fetching books, meals, and correspondence for Draco. Again, he'd performed these tasks without grumbling about it. Not only was Draco's body doing amazing things, but he had a quick temper and an even quicker wand. Harry knew that before he'd married him, of course, but he didn't trust Draco's love for him to spare him the pain of a nasty hex.
Draco had been allowed, expected even, to complain throughout his pregnancy, especially in the last trimester. Harry had borne it all quite stoically, although he did vent to Ron from time to time. Ron had already been through the wringer with Hermione, so he was able to commiserate. From listening to Ron's stories, Harry reckoned he didn't have it as bad as his best mate did. If pressed to answer, Harry would have to admit he'd always been more terrified of Hermione than he'd ever been of Draco.
As Harry looked down at the baby, he was glad and grateful they had gone on this journey. He'd certainly enjoyed his role in the baby-making process. Harry grinned at the thought, then had to think of something else to stifle his body's reaction. If Draco woke up and caught Harry leering at him, he was a dead man.
Draco appeared innocent enough at the moment. His pale lashes were fanned over his equally pallid cheeks, and his hair was mussed. Harry found it adorable. No doubt Draco would be appalled with his current appearance. He was still pale and wan, with dark circles under his eyes.
Harry's lust was tempered with a rush of tenderness. A tiny whimper from the cot drew his attention back to his daughter. Alarmed, he scooped her up carefully and sat in the rocking chair next to Draco's bed. The baby made some other small sounds, and her little face scrunched up.
"Sh," Harry soothed, stroking her downy head with the tips of his fingers. She yawned and then blinked her eyes open. Harry's breathing stalled. Until this moment, he would have sworn he could never love anyone as much as he loved Draco, but the realization that he loved this tiny infant crashed through him. Harry smoothed the tip of one finger over her cheek, marveling at how soft her skin was. She pursed her lips in response to his touch, squeezing Harry's heart even more in the process. He nudged the pink blanket aside to count her fingers and toes again.
Harry marveled at how tiny and perfect her hands were, right down to her little nails. He nudged his finger into her hand, and she curled hers around it. Harry's eyes stung and he blinked, gulped, and took a deep breath to steady himself. He'd faced down trolls, goblins, and an evil wizard, yet a newborn babe was nearly his undoing. She frowned, and her legs stirred within her swaddling blanket. Harry cuddled her closer to his chest and brushed a kiss across her forehead. He raised his head and looked down at her. He fancied she was looking up at him just as intently. Her rosebud mouth turned down in another frown, and she began to fuss.
"Sh," Harry murmured again as he set the rocking chair into motion. "Your daddy needs to sleep," he added in a whisper. "You put him through quite the ordeal."
The baby yawned again, clearly unimpressed with her father's efforts on her behalf. Harry continued to rock her gently, and he began to softly hum a lullaby. The baby settled down, and her eyelids drooped. Harry felt bolstered by this small success. He'd never told Draco, but Harry doubted his ability as a parent. He hadn't exactly grown up with the most shining example of parenthood. The Dursleys had represented both ends of the spectrum: from doting on Dudders to being abusive towards Harry. He didn't want to make the same mistakes, although he knew he was far more likely to dote on his precious daughter.
Doting would be the easy part; Draco had endured the worst aspect of parenting. Once they realized he was in labor, Harry had dispatched his Patronus to the midwife they pre-selected to attend the birth. While Harry would have preferred that Draco deliver at St Mungo's, Draco had pointed out that the birth of their child would result in a frenzy of family, friends, and the curious public. He wanted to avoid all of that and give birth in the comfort and quiet of home. Harry had to admit the concern was valid, and he'd reluctantly agreed. His fears were alleviated once they selected Prudence Wiskochil as their Midwife/Medi-witch. She was cheerful, professional, and unflappable. The fact that she had delivered Seamus and Justin's son was also a point in her favor. Seamus spoke quite highly of her, which put Harry's mind at ease.
Prudence arrived within minutes of Harry summoning her via his Patronus. She bustled into the bedroom, removed several small items from her bag, and re-sized them. She made sure Draco was comfortable, then assigned Harry the task of timing the contractions. Looking back, Harry suspected that was simply to keep him calm and focused.
Throughout the next several hours as Draco labored to bring their daughter into the world, Prudence had provided instruction, while Harry provided support. It was during that time that Harry realized Draco was made of sterner stuff than he, the supposed hero, was. Dispatching dark lords was child's play compared to giving birth. Harry looked down at his daughter once more.
"You sure didn't make things easy for daddy, you know," he murmured. She looked up at him, unimpressed, and without a shred of guilt.
Harry chuckled. "Slytherin," he pronounced. "You need a name," he added in a whisper. He and Draco had readily agreed on a boy's name, but they had yet to reach a consensus for a girl's name, so of course they'd had a daughter. The only thing Draco and Harry had agreed on for a girl's name was that it would be her own, rather than a derivative of either of her grandmothers' names. In fact, they didn't plan to name her after any kind of flower at all. Harry wished they had been better prepared. He couldn't keep calling his daughter 'hey you'. She pursed his lips and squeezed his finger.
"You have a good grip for such a tiny little peanut," said Harry. "I reckon I can call you Peanut until daddy wakes up and yells at me."
Peanut didn't immediately nix the idea, which Harry took for agreement.
"I can't wait to introduce you to your family, Peanut," he said. "They've been as eager to meet you as daddy and I have been."
Harry grimaced as he thought about how many people were anxious to meet Baby Potter-Malfoy, from family and friends to the wizarding world's version of the paparazzi. He wasn't ready to share yet, not even with the Weasleys, let alone the Malfoys or anyone else. He wanted to remain cocooned here in their home, just him and Draco and the baby. They could do it. Food and other necessities could be brought in by house-elves, allowing them to stay home where Harry could always keep his precious little daughter safe. He hugged her tighter to his chest, ready to defend her against the world. She smacked her lips, sounding almost as if she was making a tsking noise. Harry relaxed and shook his head, smiling down at his most priceless treasure.
"You're right," he said. "I'm being silly. I just don't want you to ever be hurt or scared or sad or disappointed." Harry sighed again. No one could guarantee such a thing, and indeed, it wouldn't be fair to Peanut. Life was spiced with hurts and disappointments. They made the joy all that much sweeter. Harry was living proof of that.
He stroked her fuzzy head again. It was difficult to tell what color her hair would be, but she hadn't inherited Harry's dark hair. He bent his head and looked closely, hoping to see some red in what little hair she had. It would be fantastic if she took after his mother. Aside from that, the Malfoys could do with a ginger in the family tree. Harry smirked when he imagined his father-in-law's reaction to a ginger Malfoy.
Peanut's lips stretched in what Harry took for a smile. "At least you got my sense of humor," he murmured to her. "Your daddy won't think we're so funny."
In truth, Harry didn't care what color Peanut's hair turned out to be. For all he knew, she might be a Metamorphagus. She was related to Tonks and Teddy, so it was possible. Harry tried to imagine what that would be like. His daughter could look different each time he saw her. Suddenly, the prospect of having a Metamorphagus for a child lost its appeal. Andromeda was a wonder to have raised two such children. Teddy was enough of a handful, and Harry reckoned that Tonks had been just as bad, if not worse.
"Don't be a Metamorphagus, okay, Peanut?" Harry entreated. She yawned again and closed her eyes. "That non-response is terribly Slytherin of you," commented Harry, wiggling the finger she still clutched in her tiny fist.
Peanut slitted her eyes like a drowsy cat before closing them again. Harry smiled down at her in paternal pride until another awful thought occurred to him. What if she was an Animagus, like his father had been? For that matter, Sirius was also an Animagus, and he was Draco's cousin. Harry considered the possibility of finding a fawn or a puppy romping in the nursery when he went to fetch his daughter. Maybe she would be a kitten. What if her Animagus form was so small that he couldn't find her?
Harry began to hyperventilate. He disturbed the baby, and she jolted awake and began to fuss again.
From the bed, Draco stirred and opened his eyes. "Harry?" he asked, voice hoarse from his ordeal. "Is the baby okay?"
Harry could only stare at him, his expression stricken.
Alarmed, Draco sat up, wincing as he did so. "Harry?"
"I don't know, Draco, I just don't know," Harry said in a rush. "What if Peanut turns out to be an Animagus like Dad or a Metamorphagus like Tonks?"
Draco stared at him in confusion before saying, "Harry, that's absurd. We are not naming our child Peanut."