Gentle hands. Soft words. Warm water
The bathroom was already warm, steam curling gently in the air as Harry knelt beside the tub, carefully adjusting the water temperature with his wand. He had added just a drop of calming lavender-scented bubbles—a gift from Hermione, tucked into the bag she’d brought over earlier.
Behind him, Draco clung tightly to his robes, his small face still damp with tears, his nose a little red from crying. His breaths had evened out a bit, but hiccups still shook his little frame now and then.
Harry turned slightly, reaching out his hand. "Come on, love. Just a quick bath. I’ll hold you the whole time if you want."
Draco didn’t answer. He just nodded—a tiny, tired motion—before slowly raising his arms in a silent plea.
Harry scooped him up without hesitation, his hand steady against Draco’s back, his fingers curling gently under the little one’s thighs. "That’s my brave boy," he murmured.
He placed Draco gently on the soft towel laid out on the changing table, careful as he helped him out of his clothes. The soiled ones were already vanished away, replaced with clean things Molly had brought—but Harry could deal with those later. Right now, Draco came first.
The little boy didn’t squirm or resist. He just let Harry undress him in silence, his gray eyes tracking Harry’s every move, as if he were still waiting for something bad to happen.
Harry could feel that weight again—that awful tightness in his chest. He wished he could take it all away, just wave his wand and erase whatever memories made Draco flinch when someone raised their voice or brace when he made a mess.
But all he could do was this.
Gentle hands. Soft words. Warm water.
Harry picked Draco up again and slowly stepped into the bathtub, sitting down with the little one tucked carefully into his lap. Draco tensed for just a second at the sensation of water, then relaxed when Harry’s arms curled securely around him.
"There we go," Harry whispered, smoothing Draco’s hair back from his forehead. "Just a bath, baby. Nothing else."
Draco nodded again, pressing his cheek to Harry’s chest.
Harry let them sit like that for a few long moments, the scent of lavender thick in the air, the soft bubbling sound of the water almost enough to lull them both into a daze. Draco’s tiny fingers curled in the fabric of Harry’s wet shirt, not letting go.
Harry didn’t try to make him.
Instead, he reached for the soft washcloth, dipped it in the warm water, and gently ran it down Draco’s back. "I’m going to wash you now, alright? Just like before."
Draco gave a soft, sleepy hum in response.
Harry worked slowly, carefully washing his tiny arms, his legs, the delicate curve of his back. He murmured soft praises as he went. "There you go. That’s it. So good for me, love."
Draco’s breathing had slowed, the hiccups mostly gone now. He wasn’t trembling anymore—not visibly at least.
"Can I wash your hair, sweetheart?"
Draco hesitated this time. His small hands curled tighter into Harry’s shirt. Then, after a long pause, he gave a tiny nod.
Harry was extra gentle with that part. He cupped water in his palm instead of using the enchanted pitcher, letting it trickle slowly down Draco’s silver-blond hair. He massaged the soap in with slow, circular motions, whispering to him all the while.
"You’ve got the softest hair," he said with a small smile. "Like clouds."
Draco didn’t reply, but he let Harry tilt his head back to rinse, even reaching up once to rub his eyes when suds slipped too close.
"There we go," Harry said softly as he reached for the towel. He lifted Draco out with care, wrapping him tightly in the warm, fluffy fabric. The little one made a quiet noise and curled into him again, seeking the safety of Harry’s chest.
Harry kissed the top of his head, breathing him in.
"All clean, love. My sweet, clean boy."
Back in the bedroom, Harry settled Draco down on the bed just for a moment while he dressed quickly. Then he turned back to the small bundle curled up on the pillows and carefully lifted him again to get him into pajamas.
He chose the softest set from the bunch Molly had brought—a pale blue sleeper with tiny white stars on it.
Draco was mostly quiet through the whole thing, though his little body leaned into Harry’s touch every time.
Once he was zipped up, Harry picked him up and held him for a moment, rocking slowly in place.
"You did really well today, baby," he whispered. "I’m so proud of you."
Draco shifted slightly, pressing his face to Harry’s neck. After a beat, he whispered, "S’ry…"
Harry froze. Then he hugged him tighter.
"You don’t ever have to apologize to me," he murmured fiercely. "Not for crying. Not for throwing up. Not for anything. You didn’t do anything wrong, Draco."
Draco sniffled softly against his neck.
"Your tummy just got upset, that’s all. It happens. And you told me, and I helped. That’s what we do, yeah?"
There was a small pause, then a slow, sleepy nod.
Harry carried Draco to the chair beside the bed in Harry’s room, settling into it with the little one wrapped close.
Outside, the evening light had started to dim, the soft glow of floating lanterns beginning to flicker to life across the room. The walls, enchanted to mirror the colors of the sky, slowly shifted from rose-gold to twilight blue.
"Tomorrow we’ll go slow with food, okay? Just small bites. Whatever feels good."
Draco gave the tiniest hum in reply.
Harry tilted his head down slightly, brushing a kiss to Draco’s temple. "Do you want a story before bed?"
There was a pause. Then—quietly—"…yes."
Harry smiled. He summoned the small picture book Hermione had left, one about magical creatures and their babies. The drawings were gentle, the pages soft, the text simple.
He opened to the first page and began reading, voice low and calm.
Draco stayed nestled against him, his small breaths deepening as the story went on. His fingers loosened from Harry’s shirt, his little body finally starting to go limp with sleep.
Halfway through the story, Harry glanced down.
Draco’s gray eyes were closed.
Harry didn’t stop reading. He kept his voice soft, his tone steady, letting the rhythm of the words carry the little one deeper into sleep. When he finished, he closed the book with a soft snap and set it aside.
Then he stood, still holding Draco, and brought him over to the bed in Harry’s room. He will let Draco sleep beside him for a bit. Draco needs all the comfort he can get.
Harry gently laid Draco down.
To his surprise, Draco stirred.
His fingers reached out blindly—and then found Harry’s hand.
Harry’s heart clenched.
"I’m here, love," he whispered, sitting beside the Little. "I’m right here."
Draco didn’t say anything. But his fingers curled around Harry’s, holding tight.
And so Harry stayed.
Even when Draco finally slipped fully into sleep, his tiny breaths even and slow. Even when his grip slackened.
Harry remained sitting beside the Little, watching his little boy sleep.
His Draco.
His baby.
There was so much more to do—so many things he didn’t know yet. But he’d learn. He had to.
Because Draco had chosen him.
And Harry would spend every day proving he was worth that trust.
Once Draco’s breathing evened out and the steady rise and fall of his chest told Harry he’d fallen deeply asleep, Harry reached for the wand on the bedside table and cast a silent spell.
A single roll of parchment popped into existence—adoption forms from the Ministry’s Department of Magical Family Affairs.
Harry stared down at them for a long moment. His hand hovered over the parchment.
And then he picked up a quill and began to fill them out.
Morning Light
The sunlight peeked through the enchanted curtains just enough to cast a warm glow in the room. The gentle charm Harry had woven ensured no harsh light would wake the little one too early.
Harry blinked awake first, instinctively checking for the weight pressed against him.
Draco was still there.
Soft snores. Pale lashes brushing his cheeks. His little hand, still curled into Harry’s jumper.
Harry smiled sleepily, brushing a kiss to the top of Draco’s head. “Morning, baby,” he whispered, though he didn’t expect a response.
Still, Draco stirred, letting out a soft sigh.
Harry gently extricated himself and sat up, stretching his arms overhead before slipping out of bed. He padded softly into the adjoining guest room—Draco’s temporary space—and cast a warming charm over the floor. He summoned a soft nappy and one of the new onesies Hermione had left folded neatly on the edge of the bed.
Then he returned, carefully scooping the sleepy Draco into his arms.
Draco blinked slowly awake, tiny hands fisting in Harry’s jumper. “Ha’y?”
“Good morning, love,” Harry murmured. “Time for a fresh nappy and a warm bottle, yeah?”
Draco didn’t answer but nestled closer into Harry’s neck, his body boneless and warm with sleep.
Harry chuckled quietly and laid him on the bed, changing him gently and talking softly the whole time—about the sun coming up, and the birds outside, and how they were going to have a lovely day.
Draco let it all happen without protest, yawning so wide it made his eyes water.
Once he was clean and dressed in a pale blue onesie with tiny golden snitches embroidered across the chest, Harry picked him up again. “There we go. My handsome baby,” he whispered, kissing his temple.
Downstairs, Harry warmed a bottle of formula—the special magical blend he’d mail ordered yesterday night—and added a tiny spoonful of powdered herb mix that helped with nutrient absorption.
While the formula warmed, Harry summoned his wand and gently cast a diagnostic charm over Draco. A soft golden light enveloped the little one.
"Alright, let’s see…” Harry murmured. The results came in slow pulses—mild nutrient deficiency (expected), low magical core activity (normal for Littles), slight dehydration, and one or two trace indicators of past potion residue that needed flushing out.
He nodded to himself and made mental notes.
The formula would help.
And the food? Slowly, carefully reintroduced.
He settled Draco in his lap on the couch, just like the night before, and brought the bottle to his lips. “Hungry, sweetheart?”
Draco blinked up at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. His thumb was halfway to his mouth before Harry caught it gently.
“Ah-ah, baby. Let’s try your bottle first,” Harry said, gently guiding the bottle to his lips.
Draco latched on after a second’s hesitation.
He drank slower than last night, but steadily, his little hands curling around the bottle like it was a lifeline. Harry rubbed soft circles on his tummy while he fed, humming gently under his breath.
Once the bottle was mostly empty, Harry offered a soft cloth to wipe Draco’s mouth and set him upright.
“Do you want to try some porridge today, baby?” he asked. “Just a little bit. No pressure.”
Draco looked uncertain, his little fingers curling into the blanket draped over Harry’s legs.
Harry gave him a smile. “Just a taste. With cinnamon. You can say no.”
After a few seconds, Draco gave a tiny nod.
Harry summoned a small, warm bowl from the kitchen and fed him by spoon, slow and careful. Draco didn’t finish much, just a few soft bites, but Harry praised him like he’d eaten a feast.
“You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”
Draco ducked his head, cheeks pink.
As Harry wiped him up, he noticed Draco’s thumb sneaking back toward his mouth.
Harry paused.
“Hmm,” he said lightly. “I think I’ve got something better for that.”
He reached into the supplies Molly had brought and pulled out a small, soft, honey-colored pacifier with a little lion charm on the clip.
“Want to try this instead, baby? It’s like your thumb, but gentler for your mouth.”
Draco eyed it warily.
Harry offered it gently.
“It’s just to help you relax. You don’t have to if you don’t want.”
Draco glanced between Harry and the pacifier for a long moment, then—almost shyly—opened his mouth a little. Harry slipped it in gently, watching as Draco’s lips instinctively closed around it. He gave a tentative suck.
Then another.
And slowly, his shoulders relaxed.
“There you go, little love,” Harry whispered, beaming. “Look at you. That’s perfect.”
With Draco snuggled in his lap, paci in his mouth and warm blanket wrapped around him, Harry felt a quiet calm settle over the living room.
He glanced at the empty guest room down the hall, then at the untouched nursery space he’d always thought he’d use someday.
Today, that someday had come.
He needed to go shopping. There were things missing—furniture, a proper changing table, soft rugs, enchanted mobiles, night lights, baby-safe shelves…
And two cribs.
One for Draco’s future nursery.
And one for Harry’s room—something smaller, simpler. A cradle where Draco could sleep close, safe and near.
But not today.
Today was for this.
For quiet cuddles, for gentle feedings, for pacifiers and onesies and slow breathing.
Harry looked down at the little boy in his arms—his little boy—and rocked him gently.
“You did so well, baby,” he whispered again. “We’re gonna be just fine.”
Draco’s eyelids fluttered, the paci gently bobbing as he sucked. His little fingers clutched Harry’s sleeve, content.
Harry held him close, and let the morning pass them by.