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The baby is pale all over with two pink blotches of pink on his cheeks. His hair is so finely colorless that it’s almost white, and his eyes, when they’re open, are the lightest shade of gray. His hair is still pasted to his forehead from the wipe down, but the ends are starting to curl slightly.
“He’s gorgeous,” Harry breathes, peering over Draco’s shoulder to peek down at the sleeping baby in his husband’s arms. His arms are wrapped around Draco’s waist, fingers curled in Draco’s jumper, but Draco can tell that Harry desperately wants to touch the small bundle in Draco’s arms. His chin is hooked over Draco’s shoulder, and his breath is warm against the side of Draco’s neck as he admires their newborn son.
“He is,” Draco agrees, making sure that he’s got the baby cradled in the crook of his arm firmly before he lets go with his other hand. His fingers are trembling slightly as he lifts them, delicately touching the baby’s small nose, forehead, and cheeks.
Their son huffs softly in his sleep and turns his head, nuzzling against Draco’s arm, and Harry lets out a wet laugh at the sight. “He looks just like you, darling.”
The baby really does.
Even so small, he’s clearly got Draco’s hair and eyes, and the shape of his nose is so distinctly Draco’s that it has his heart beating rapidly in his chest. “Does it bother you?” Draco asks softly, trying not to wake the sleeping child. “Knowing for sure that he’s mine and not yours?”
“No,” Harry answers immediately, pressing his lips against the crook of Draco’s neck. “Because he is mine, too. He may not biologically be mine, but he’ll be my son, too. Just as soon as we sign the papers.”
“Which you should do as soon as you’re finished fawning over him, or else I’ll change my mind about giving him up,” comes Astoria’s teasing voice, sounding exhausted but pleased as she watches the two men from her hospital bed. “He’s utterly adorable. Congratulations.”
Draco can barely tear his eyes away from their son, a wobbly smile on his face and eyes wet with oncoming tears. “Thank you, Astoria. Truly. Thank you for having him for us, and thank you for taking such good care of him while he was inside you.”
Astoria laughs, though her cheeks are pink. “That’s certainly a weird way to put that, but you’re more than welcome. I’m happy to have been able to carry him for you. I already know he’s going to be more loved than any other little boy in the entire world.”
“He absolutely is,” Harry agrees, pressing another kiss to Draco’s neck before an impatient whine slipped from him. “Baby, sweetheart, can I please hold him now?” Harry’s hands are squirming in Draco’s jumper, his eyes solely on the sleeping child in his husband’s arms.
Draco chuckles, but nods easily. “Of course you can.” Carefully, Draco lifts the baby, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, watching the way his nose wrinkled. “Papa loves you so much,” he whispers to his son, then turns to place him into Harry’s arms.
Harry is already cooing at him as their child settles into the shape of Harry’s arms, his little fingers curled into fists and his eyes cracking open sleepily. The boy stares up at Harry, and tears drip down Harry’s cheeks. “Hi, baby boy. I’m your daddy, and I love you so much, my love. I can’t wait to take you home.”
“Uh oh,” Astoria jokes, her eyes swiveling to Draco. “Seems like someone is already wrapped around his little fingers. He’s going to get away with everything when he grows up, huh? Unless you plan on being the strict parent.”
Draco rolls his eyes, but his lips are already drawing into a smile. “It doesn’t seem like Harry is going to leave me any choice,” Draco insists, though his expression is fond as he watches Harry babble to their son, as though the baby has any clue what Harry is saying. “It’s alright, though. Harry and I are going to figure it out together, and I’m certain that our son is going to get away with a lot of things.”
Astoria hums in agreement, then gestures to the bedside table where the paperwork they’d brought with is spread out, ready to be signed. “We should probably get to signing all of that. I know seeing your son is very exciting, but I’m rather wiped and I think I’ve earned myself a nap. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get that over with so I can sleep without a guilty conscience of lording parental rights over you both.”
“You’ve more than earned a nap,” Draco promises, pulling the table over and handing over a quill for her to sign. Draco is grateful that they had all gone over the paperwork weeks ago, before the baby was born, and made sure that the one contract signed away Astoria’s parental rights completely, and would put Harry and Draco as the baby’s legal parents just as soon as they signed the birth certificate.
At the time, they hadn’t known which of them was the biological father, but it hadn’t mattered. The legal documents were tailored to fit whoever wasn’t.
Draco takes the quill next, scrawling his name on the birth certificate, then waves Harry over. Harry is reluctant to shift the baby in his arms, but he does so gently, freeing his right hand to sign both documents, the quill hovering over the blank for their son’s name. “Er, I think this is for you,” Harry murmurs sheepishly, passing the quill back over. “He’s your son.”
Draco smiles, giddy at the remembrance of their little bet. If they could determine who the father was, then that person would get to name their child. Draco twirls the quill between his fingers, leaning over to sign their son’s name on the line.
Scorpius Sirius Malfoy-Potter.