Chapter 4
The sun was just peeking over the hills when Draco was woken by a soft gurgling sound and the gentle humming of a voice. It took a moment for him to realise the voice wasn’t his own—and that, for once, his house was surprisingly quiet. No crying, no whimpering, no sudden chaos.
With dishevelled hair, a slightly stiff neck from sleeping in an awkward position on the sofa, and still wearing his patterned silk pyjamas that felt utterly out of place in this environment, Draco shuffled into the small kitchen. The sight that greeted him was nothing short of surreal. Harry Potter stood barefoot in his cottage, holding a baby in his arms. Scorpius was nestled against him, staring up with those silvery eyes, utterly content, as Harry softly sang something about a hippogriff and a lost sock.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Draco muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Harry looked up, a lopsided grin on his face. “I didn’t know you could look worse in the morning than after losing a Quidditch match to me.” Draco snorted. “I’m going to ignore that and pretend you didn’t just insult me… At least try to be useful.”
Harry shrugged. “I am useful. I stopped your son from detonating his nappy while you were asleep.”
Draco stepped closer, observing Scorpius as the baby happily gnawed on Harry’s finger. “I think you’re spoiling him already. Stop indulging him.”
“That’s called care, Draco.”
“I call it manipulation. He’ll start playing you against me in a few years.”
Harry grinned and carefully placed Scorpius in his portable seat before moving to the kitchen counter. “Where’s your cereal?”
Draco blinked. “My what?”
“Cereal. Breakfast. Food?” Harry opened a few cupboards, scanning the chaotic arrangement of jars, bottles, and—to Draco’s horror—a suspiciously large stash of instant soups. “It’s supposed to be in that… thing.” Draco waved vaguely in the direction of the shelves.
“Very specific,” Harry said dryly. “You’re a Potions Master, Draco. I thought you’d be used to precise instructions.”
“I’m a Potions Master, not a breakfast magician!” Harry laughed loudly as he finally found a box of cereal and two bowls. “Calm down. Once again, I’m here to save the day.”
As Harry set about preparing breakfast, Draco turned his attention to his newest acquisition: a Muggle coffee machine he’d purchased in a fit of desperation, convincing himself that modern appliances might be a suitable replacement for house-elves. The device sat ominously on the counter. Draco stared at it, half-expecting it to explode.
“Er, Potter?” he asked eventually.
“Hmm?”
“What exactly… does this thing do?”
Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Draco poking at the machine, which was resolutely failing to produce even a drop of coffee. “Oh, Merlin.” Harry put down the cereal bowls and walked over. “You bought a coffee machine and don’t know how to use it?”
“I thought it would be intuitive!” Draco threw his arms up in frustration. “All I want is some caffeine so I don’t look like a lunatic while feeding my own child.”
“You already look like a lunatic,” Harry muttered, reaching for the machine. “Give me a minute.” Draco crossed his arms, watching as Harry deftly filled the water reservoir, measured out coffee grounds, and got the machine humming—all with one arm, while casually holding his son.
“I hate you a little for how easily you managed that,” Draco said darkly.
Harry smirked. “Years of practice. Three kids, remember?” He clapped Draco on the shoulder. “Relax. The coffee’s coming.” He murmured to Scorpius, “Your dad’s quite the grump in the mornings, isn’t he, little man?”
Reluctantly, Draco sank into a chair as Harry set the table, Scorpius happily wiggling in his seat. When Harry finally handed Draco a steaming cup of coffee, he took a sip and let out a quiet groan of relief.
“If I ever marry again—or have enough money to hire a butler—it’ll only be so someone can do this for me every morning.” Harry grinned. “You could’ve just kept a house-elf. Then you wouldn’t need me.”
Draco snorted. “House-elves don’t belong in a home that’s supposed to be free and safe. I want Scorpius to grow up knowing he doesn’t need magic to feel loved.” Harry looked at him, surprised, but said nothing. Instead, he sat down at the table and began eating his cereal.
The next few minutes passed in silence—but it was a comfortable silence. Scorpius suckled on his bottle, Draco savoured his coffee, and Harry seemed entirely at ease in the quiet rhythm of the morning.
As Harry leaned forward to pick up a fallen dummy and cleaned it with a quick spell, Draco couldn’t help but notice how natural Harry looked with the baby. His movements were steady and confident, and Scorpius gazed at him with an expression of trust and fascination. For the first time in months, Draco felt relaxed. No fear, no uncertainty. Just a warm, peaceful moment in his little kitchen. “You’re good with him,” Draco said finally, taking another sip of coffee.
Harry looked up. “What?”
“With Scorpius. You’re good with him.”
Harry smiled softly. “Like I said, I’ve had practice. Teddy, Rose, Hugo… Kids have a way of calming you down. They don’t expect anything from you except that you’re there for them.” Draco studied Harry for a long moment before averting his gaze. “Maybe I should hire you as a babysitter.”
“Oh, that’d be brilliant. Imagine how impressed you’d be with my skills every day.”
“Or how I’d eventually throw you out of sheer jealousy because you get along with my child better than I do.”
Harry chuckled quietly, and Draco couldn’t stop a small smile from forming on his lips.
His life was chaos. Complete chaos. But for the first time, it didn’t feel suffocating. Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he thought.