In. Out. In. Out. In. Severus sighed, already tired out by his ministrations. It was so methodical.
Out. He grunted in frustration and pushed it in again, only to have her hands get wrapped up in his hair as she squealed. It was too early in the morning for this kind of malarkey, he complained inwardly. He plastered a smile on his face as she gazed at him.
After waking him imperiously up four times last night, he couldn't understand how she had so much energy. Maybe he was getting too old for this.
Extricating her hands from their death grip against his scalp, he decided a little sweet talking couldn't hurt. Maybe he could bore her into going back to sleep.
"That's it, good girl," he murmured, "Is that nice? Yes it is, oh yes…"
Hermione wandered into the kitchen fifteen minutes later to an adorable sight. Her husband sat at the breakfast table; half asleep and cradling their youngest child. He was trying to feed her and eat his porridge at the same time. Every time he managed to get a spoonful into her mouth, she would gurgle up at him and the whole lot would dribble out again.
Unlike her Papa, Rowan didn't look any worse for wear having been awake half the night. She snuggled happily against his chest and tugged at his hair again as he winced. No matter how often Severus complained though, she knew he was hopelessly devoted to his only daughter.
Carefully filing the moment away among her good memories, Hermione slipped back out of the kitchen and left father and daughter to it.