No, I hadn't been avoiding my child. Anyone who suggested it would have been ridiculous.

Maybe I wasn't exactly ready to be alone with him, but that wasn't for any sort of reason. After all, we had all sorts of nurses for the boy—I didn't see why I should have been expected to help.

He was just so small—so breakable. I wasn't about to hurt my child.

My wife, though, insisted on being with him far more often than required. I could fully understand the necessity of parental attention, but she was overdoing it.

And not only that, but she seemed to enjoy it more than anything in the world. She loved him instantly. I, however, was a bit more wary of the new addition.

I had a son? I had known it for months, of course, but something about him actually being there made it seem instantly real.

But I wasn't used to it. I admit that I actually enjoyed watching Narcissa, but I wasn't about to turn in my wand and become a full-time father.

I saw the lights on in his room just a couple weeks after he was born, and I vaguely heard a soft lullaby being hummed. I was going to look in just for a second.

I saw Cissa rocking our son to sleep. I watched silently for a minute, unwilling to leave. I would never have admitted it, but it did make a pleasing picture. A wife and child—a real family.

She looked up and smiled slightly. Her face looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she stood up. "Sit," she whispered.

I could feel my face twisting into horrified lines, but I controlled it just in time.

"What?" I asked, forgetting to lower my voice.

"Shhh!" she hissed, gesturing to the baby who had woken up again. She looked at me sternly.

I gave in: I sat down. She smiled softly as she put the baby into my lap. My hands instinctively curved properly around him. Cissa looked pleased.

I couldn't be angry with her as I examined his soft, pale skin, his milky, blueish-grey eyes, and his little hands. The hands were so small, so breakable.

I put my hand near his, comparing the size. I didn't even notice the movement until I felt a soft pressure. I looked, startled, and watched his hand grasp my forefinger tightly.

Cissa chuckled at my shocked expression. "He has a good grip for something so breakable, doesn't he?"

My wife. Always knowing exactly what I was thinking. I looked at my son, feeling more at ease by the moment.

"Yes… Draco is strong."