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The scent of ginger and orange peel lingered in the air, blending with the faint sweetness of milk and warm bread. Harry carried a tray up the stairs, balancing it carefully. The spoon in the bowl clinked softly with every step.
It was late evening, the hour when the candles burned low and the house finally fell quiet after endless gaggles of visitors and healers.
He chuckled to himself. There had not been a peaceful day since Severus had given birth to their lovely Lily. Then he paused at the open doorway when he saw they were both awake.
Severus was half-reclined against the pillows, pale but no longer fragile. His hair was clean and loose, falling around his shoulders. The nightshirt he wore was the softest one Harry had been able to find, and it suited him far too well.
In Severus’s arms rested their daughter, bundled in a blanket far too big for her, a dark ringlet visible against his chest. He held her carefully, as though she might dissolve if he blinked. His face, though still shadowed with exhaustion, was full of wonder and love.
He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The touch drew a faint, bubbling giggle from her.
Severus laughed. “Oh, so that pleases you, does it?” he murmured, voice low and teasing.
The baby gurgled again, a tiny sound of delight that made Harry’s heart twist in ways he still wasn’t used to.
Severus kissed her again, just beside her temple. Another giggle. “Two years of rigorous experimentation,” he said softly, obviously trying to feign his old sternness, “nine months in my womb, making me suffer…”
Harry’s heart clenched for a second, but then Severus smiled. It was the kind of smile Harry’s eleven-year-old self would never have believed possible on his face: unguarded, glowing, and fragile with love.
“…and you look just like your father,” Severus finished with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to her perfect, chubby cheeks as he pulled her close. The baby squealed again, delighted.
“So perfect,” Severus whispered, his voice almost lost against her soft skin. He pressed his face close to hers, their noses brushing. “Just perfect.”
Harry stood in the doorway, tray forgotten in his hands, and thought that perhaps the world had finally made sense. He had never loved anyone so much; he doubted he ever would again.
He stepped inside quietly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “You did it,” he said softly. “You’ve brewed something far more precious than fame, or glory, or a stopper to death. You’ve brewed a miracle, Sev.”
Severus hummed, half a sigh and half a chuckle. “You make it sound as if I were experimenting on myself.”
“You kind of were,” Harry said, smiling. “A very patient one.”
Severus smiled again and looked down at their daughter, his eyes filled with a wonder so pure it made Harry ache. “She is my only perfect experiment,” he murmured. “Look at her hair, already defying gravity.”
Harry laughed softly but noticed the faint tremor in Severus’s arms, the weight of exhaustion pulling at him again. He moved closer, leaning over the bed. “Here, love,” he whispered. “Let me take her for a bit.”
He reached out and lifted their daughter gently. Both Severus and lily made the same sound of protest, one low and one small and indignant. Harry laughed quietly, rocking her lightly.
“I know, I know,” he said, soothing them both. “I’m not stealing her. She’ll be right beside you.”
He said as he gently tucked her into the crib Hagrid had made for her. It was a large, slightly slanted crib with so many cushion charms on top of the best mattress he could find that he was worried she would sink into it. She stirred once, then settled, her tiny fingers curling against the blanket.Within moments, her eyes closed again and her breathing evened out.
Behind him, Severus made a faint noise of disapproval, his hand twitching toward the space where she had been. Harry smiled and came back at once, pressing a kiss to his temple.
“It’s time for her and you to sleep,” he murmured. “You both need rest.”
“But—”
“She’s fed and ready to sleep,” Harry said softly, sitting down beside him on the bed with the bowl of congee. “And now it’s your turn.”
Severus’s lips formed a faint pout, but his eyes brightened as the steam rose from the bowl, fragrant with honey and vanilla. Harry had to fight his smile.
Severus took the first bite without protest, and the corners of his mouth curved. “Sweet,” he murmured, approving.
Between spoonfuls, Severus turned slightly, scooting closer until his knee brushed Harry’s. His hand found Harry’s leg, curling there lazily.
By the time the bowl was empty, his lashes had lowered halfway, his smile hazy. Harry set the tray aside and wiped a bit of honey from his lip with his thumb. Severus caught the thumb in a soft kiss.
“You spoil me,” he whispered.
He eased Severus down against the pillows, tucking the blanket around him. “Sleep now,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay right here.”
Severus reached out, catching Harry’s sleeve like a child might. “Stay with me.”
Harry smiled. “Just checking on her, and I’ll be back,” he said, pressing a kiss to Severus’s hand. He checked the crib where their daughter slept, tiny and still. The sight made his chest ache with quiet joy.
When he lay beside Severus again, the older man instinctively turned toward him, draping himself half across Harry’s chest, his face tucked against Harry’s neck.
Harry smiled, threading his fingers through Severus’s hair. For a while, there was only the soft rustle of fabric and the small sighs their daughter made in her sleep. Harry thought he could listen to that forever.
Then Severus’s voice came again, barely above a whisper. “Do you think we, of all people, can be good parents?”
Harry blinked, the question tugging at something deep inside him. Severus wasn’t looking at him, but at the crib, his thumb moving absently against Harry’s chest.
“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “I do.”
Severus turned his head slightly, eyes searching.
Harry smiled and leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss again. “We’ll do our best,” he said. “Every day. And that’ll be enough.”
Severus was quiet for a long time. Then his mouth curved into the smallest, most fragile smile. He looked back toward the crib and whispered, “Every day.”
Harry pressed a kiss to his temple, then to his hair. “I hope she’ll be as brilliant as you,” he whispered.
“I only hope it won’t come with your rash Gryffindor temper,” Severus muttered, his voice already fading with sleep.
Harry laughed quietly, the sound melting into the stillness of the room. The candlelight shimmered over the crib, brushing gold across their daughter’s sleeping face.
Severus hummed softly and buried his face in Harry’s neck, settling closer until Harry could feel the slow rhythm of his breathing against his chest. Harry smiled at the weight of him, the warmth, and the way Severus always seemed to fold himself into him until there was no space left between them.
His darling octopus.