Written for the Het-astic Drabble-Athon Competition.
Prompt 17; Home
He watched her as she slept, curled up in the cramp hospital bed and cradling their newborn baby in her arms. Her wild hair was plastered to her face from sweat, the result of hours of labor, and she was snoring lightly. Yet she was never more beautiful to him than she was in this moment. He leaned over and kissed her one the forehead, blinking back a tear or two as he silently thanked her for giving him more than he ever dreamed possible.
Their daughter stared up at him with large, inquisitive brown eyes, much like her mother's. He reached out and ran a gentle hand over her head, smoothing down the soft tuff of platinum blonde hair that was sticking up. Draco marveled at how perfect this tiny little baby was. She was absolutely stunning and he couldn't believe he had a part in making her.
A low growl had him turn an icy glare to the feline nestled comfortably at the foot of the bed. The only things visible on his squashed, orange face were his sharp little teeth, which he bore in a snarl. The damned cat had refused to move ever since he'd arrived.
Fucking Weasel had decided it would be a good idea to bring the beast over to St. Mungo's to meet the baby. How in Merlin's name that red headed idiot had managed to sneak Crookshanks into the hospital was beyond him, but on his way back from the restroom he'd nearly booted the half-kneazel out the window when the furball had thrown himself at Draco and dug his nails into his thigh in greeting. Potter and Weasley sniggered away in the corner of the room while his mother lectured him on his manners.
The cat had never taken quite a liking to him, he suspected Crookshanks didn't appreciate his owner's attention stolen from him. He'd sat his fat arse on the end of the bed ever since he'd been brought and growled at Draco anytime the man tried to near his wife and newborn.
His focus was brought back to his daughter when she let out a whine and fidgeted in her mother's hold. With great care, the new father lifted her up and positioned her the way he'd been shown in those dreadful muggle parenting classes his wife had forced on him. He was nervous, fearful of somehow hurting her, but she merely gurgled contently. He rocked her, watching in fascination as she slowly drifted off in his arms after several minutes of the repeated motion.
Sitting in that hospital room, alternating his gaze between his sleeping wife and little Madeline Jane Malfoy, Draco had never felt more at home in his life. Anywhere these two were, he belonged.
Even if it was in the midst of irritating Weasleys, an idiotic Boy Wonder, and ugly as sin pets.