I came home late tonight, later than I'd meant to. The lights were off, all except one flickering sconce in our bedroom.
They were all curled up together on our bed, sleeping, Lily snug against Draco's side, her red hair spread over his arm, Scorpius half-draped over his chest, one hand twisted in Draco's shirt, the other clutching his sister's fingers.
I just stood there in the doorway for a long time and watched them. I could see the small bump of Draco's stomach, the promise of our daughter next July. I know he hates this, hates the way it makes him feel like a freak, hates the discomfort, hates the curious looks and the whispers and the sneers and the disgust. And still he did it. For me. Because I wanted a child.
( That takes my breath away. )