A/N: Hello and welcome to the fifth part of my Seven Days of Christmas! Only two more after this one!

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"Happy Christmas, love," Harry said as soon as he exited the loo and saw Daphne yawning, now awake but still laying in their bed with the covers pulled to her chin. Naturally, he moved to her side of the bed and took her hand when she made to stand.

"Morning," her voice was quiet and soft, and as she stood, her blonde hair cascading down her torso, distracting him, she stole a kiss. The smile she wore after doing so, small as it was, could melt even Umbridge's heart he reckoned — really, there was no more angelic a being than Daphne. "Check on her?"

This time, it was Harry's turn to steal a kiss as she made to move past him, and after doing just that, he moved to the aforementioned area; the crib. It was large, enchanted beyond belief, and softer than clouds, he'd even tested that lattermost quality… but only when he was enchanting the crib, of course.

He'd definitely not expanded it to lay with Astrid before.

Speaking of, his daughter, his firstborn, was only just fluttering open her eyes to gaze up at him. The feelings were indescribable. Truly. Harry had long figured out that he loved Daphne, and their love was strong, pure and true. But Merlin, looking into the eyes of something that you made held with it a quality only parents could know.

Molly, a woman that was all but a surrogate mother to him, had told him that, and Daphne's mum, Anastasia, had done much the same, and after months and months of waiting, he'd realised they'd been exactly right.

Thus, with a smile that promptly devolved into cooing noises, he picked up and fussed over his daughter as Daphne left the loo. On her face, he noticed, was just as fond a look as he wore.

"Kitchen?"

He sniffed.

"Kitchen," he agreed. "In a minute."

Daphne grinned. "It's your turn," she turned and began walking towards their bedroom door; he'd always hated when she left, but Merlin, did he love seeing her go. "I'll set the tea and get everything set, Husband."

Harry snickered as she left — she'd finally stopped calling him Potter in that teasing tone of hers. He supposed she had to, considering her name had changed, and Husband, well, it was a word he reckoned he'd never grow tired of.

Nearly three minutes later when all was said and done — and in the case of Astrid, changed — Harry was in the kitchen with Astrid floating behind him in a seat, belted and secured, and with a charm to keep her in should all else fail. High as she was, and level with he and Daphne and the counter, Astrid seemed content to watch her parents mariander about the kitchen.

Daphne especially. With her upbringing she'd seldom stepped foot in the kitchen, but after hearing Molly and Arthur bonding therein one day when they were over for the weekly Weasley meal, she'd proposed they do much the same upon returning home. Harry had been beyond pleased to finally show off his culinary prowess, and excited to teach her something he enjoyed, despite the history it had with him.

"Co'mere," Harry said with a nod to where he was standing, the many products — flour, honey, yoghourt — laid out before them with various charms placed on the objects to keep them fresh. "We're going to measure out the various amounts we need, and then we'll add them together. Start with the dry stuff, yeah?"

"Dry stuff?" Daphne parroted back at him.

Harry motioned to the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and other such ingredients that'd be added; he needn't mention the sugar. Just the amount on the table was indicative of a few kilos gained through the new year.

"We'll add that all together and sift it," he said, moving up behind her to direct her gaze and hands.

Daphne seemed to enjoy the intimacy of the moment, pressing back into his front and turning her head so as to steal a kiss, much to the delight of their daughter Astrid, who squealed and giggled. After a few seconds when their little kiss was over, she did as he asked, measuring out — with the measuring glass raised up right before her eyes — and glaring at the object she did so with.

He found it immensely adorale, and it confirmed should such a thing be necessary where Astrid had gotten her cuteness from.

"Like this?" Daphne asked, turning to look at him; what she didn't notice were the errant strands of hair that dipped into the top of the flour.

Harry reached past her and lowered her hand, the softness of her skin always startling, just like her features. Merlin, he swore if he could get her into one of those Muggle elf costumes, she'd look the part… just a bit taller. Really, there was an almost otherworldly degree of beauty she possessed.

"Now who's gotten distracted?" Daphne teased.

She'd set the measuring glass the rest of the way down, her free hand already reaching for the paper with measurements thereon.

"Me," he said, shameless. "Can't blame a bloke, can you?"

Daphne tutted. "Our daughter's first word better not be bloke, Harry," when she turned to point accusingly at him, he noticed there was a bit of flour on her face, from when she'd put up her hair after it'd initially gotten itself into trouble. "Why're you snickering?"

"No reason."

"Harry."

He brought a hand up to her face, an action that always caused her to lean in, their faces growing nearer and nearer… until he used his thumb and swiped away the bit of flour; magic worked far better than a wet cloth, after all.

It was his turn to grin when he made to lean back, but Daphne wasn't having it. With a hand fisting the front of his shirt, she hissed at him, all proper Slytherin-like. "You're giving me that kiss, Po— Harry."

Who was he to deny his flour-covered wife?

He only hoped she'd do better with the butter or chocolate… or maybe he didn't.