Lots of Draco and Rose cuteness and goodness in this chapter! And some more Rose POV.
The morning of the 27th had started well enough, with Rose still glowing from her time with Ron the previous day. She'd burst through the door full of excitement, regaling Hermione with tales of playing Quidditch in the garden with her dad and Hugo, while Susan ensured they were well-fed with snacks and hot drinks. It had been the kind of day Hermione had always hoped Ron would give Rose—a glimpse of a father willing to prioritise his daughter. For the first time in months, Hermione dared to let herself hope that things were changing, that Ron might finally step up to be the father Rose deserved.
But that fragile hope was shattered when Hermione's Ministry summons came through just as she was pouring her morning tea. The urgent note spelled it out plainly: Immediate attendance required. Department-wide crisis.
Hermione's heart sank as her eyes flickered to Rose, happily singing to herself while colouring at the dinner table. Who would look after her? The panic set in swiftly, swirling in her chest as she ran through her options.
"Ron," she muttered to herself, snatching her wand from the counter. Casting her otter patronus, she sent it darting off with a message for him to take Rose for the day.
She waited tensely, pacing the small kitchen as the minutes ticked by. When the Jack Russell Terrier arrived ten minutes later, carrying a quick message, Hermione's stomach churned as she listened to Ron's voice.
Busy today. Can't help. Sorry.
"Sorry?" Hermione snapped aloud, swiping her wand in the air and chasing the patronus away. "Of course you're sorry."
She pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to take a calming breath. "Not now, Hermione," she whispered under her breath. "No time for a breakdown." Ron's inconsistency was nothing new, but the sting of his unreliability always hit fresh. Rose deserved better, and Hermione hated being reminded that she couldn't count on him when it mattered most.
Her first thought was to contact Molly or Ginny, but she quickly realised they were visiting extended family today. A glance at the clock told her she had no more time to waste. The only option left felt like swallowing glass.
Steeling herself, she cast her patronus again, this time sending it with a different name attached to her plea. Minutes later, the familiar roar of the Floo filled her flat, and Draco Malfoy stepped gracefully from the fireplace.
He straightened, brushing the soot from his coat, his sharp grey eyes immediately locking onto hers. "Granger," he greeted, his voice calm but concerned. "Your patronus sounded… urgent."
Hermione exhaled, fighting to keep her conflicted emotions in check. She hadn't seen him since Christmas Eve, and their last conversation had left her reeling. Still, there was no denying that Draco was reliable—more than she'd ever expected. "I wouldn't have called you if it weren't important," she admitted, feeling the weight of her decision. "Rose needs someone to look after her today. Ron…" Her voice faltered, her frustration bubbling up again. "Ron can't."
Draco's face softened, and he stepped closer. "I'll take care of her," he said simply, without hesitation.
Hermione hesitated, tugging at the hem of her jumper nervously. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose—"
"You're not imposing, Granger," Draco interrupted gently but firmly. "I'm happy to help."
Her eyes flickered toward the living room, where Rose was still humming to herself, completely oblivious to the chaos in Hermione's mind. She turned back to Draco, her brow creased. "She can be a handful sometimes," Hermione said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Especially if she's tired or hasn't eaten or—"
"Hermione," Draco said, his voice firm but kind, cutting through her nervous rambling. "We'll be fine. Go. Do what you need to do. If there's a problem, I'll send word immediately."
Hermione studied him for a long moment, searching for any hint of hesitation, but there was none. His calm confidence reassured her more than she wanted to admit. Finally, she nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Alright. Thank you."
She stepped over to Rose, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. "Sweetheart, I have to go to work for a little bit," she said softly. "But Draco is going to stay with you today."
Rose's face lit up instantly. "Really? Draco's staying?" she asked, bouncing up from her spot on the floor.
"Yes, really," Hermione said with a small smile. "But you have to behave for him, alright?"
"We'll behave, won't we, Rose?" Draco said, crouching down beside her. His smile was warm, his posture easy, and Hermione couldn't help but marvel at how naturally he fit into Rose's life.
"Promise, Mummy!" Rose chirped, throwing her arms around Hermione in a quick hug before turning back to Draco with excitement.
Hermione straightened, grabbing her bag and coat. She paused in front of the fireplace, casting Draco one last lingering look. "I appreciate this, Draco. Really."
He nodded, his expression steady. "Go, Hermione. We'll be fine."
Taking a deep breath, Hermione stepped into the hearth, the green flames whisking her away to the Ministry. As she disappeared, the sight of Draco standing in her living room with Rose stayed with her, stirring emotions she wasn't ready to confront.
As the fire settled back into the hearth, Draco turned to Rose, who was already bouncing on her toes and tugging at his hand, her excitement barely contained.
"Can we go out, Draco?" she asked, her wide brown eyes sparkling with energy. "I want to see the Quidditch shop in Diagon Alley! Please, please, please?"
Draco smirked, his heart softening at her enthusiasm. "Alright," he said, "but only if you promise to bundle up. It's freezing out there."
Rose clapped her hands together with delight, darting off to grab her coat and scarf. Draco followed her, helping her into a thick, crimson wool coat and wrapping her scarf snugly around her neck.
"There," he said, adjusting her hat to cover her ears. "Now you're ready to brave the cold."
"Let's go!" Rose exclaimed, already reaching for his hand.
Moments later, they Apparated directly into Diagon Alley. Snow blanketed the cobblestones, muffling the usual bustle of the street. The air was filled with the mingling scents of roasted chestnuts, spiced cider, and the faintly sweet aroma of sugar-dusted pastries from the nearby vendors. Twinkling lights adorned shop windows, giving the street a magical glow.
Draco glanced down at Rose, who was staring wide-eyed at the scene, her cheeks already pink from the cold. He couldn't help but smile at her unfiltered joy. "This way," he said, guiding her toward the Quidditch shop.
The shop's windows were a riot of colour, filled with enchanted broomsticks hovering just above the displays, glinting team merchandise, and miniature animated Quidditch figures flying in dizzying loops. Draco lifted Rose effortlessly so she could press her nose against the glass.
"Do you see the Firebolt 3000?" he asked, pointing to the sleek, polished broom displayed prominently.
Rose gasped, her breath fogging the glass. "It's so shiny! Is it faster than your broom, Draco?"
He chuckled, setting her down. "Much faster. But I'd still win."
Rose giggled, skipping alongside him as they entered the shop. The warmth inside was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, and the faint hum of magical energy buzzed around them. Draco glanced at the crowded shelves, feeling a rare sense of peace. This, he thought, felt... right. Normal.
"Draco!" Rose called, waving a small, enchanted model of a Quidditch pitch that buzzed with tiny, moving players. "Look at this!"
Before he could respond, a familiar voice interrupted. "Draco?"
He turned, instantly recognising Astoria Greengrass standing by the display of Quidditch robes. She was impeccably dressed, as always, her dark hair twisted into an elegant chignon, her emerald-green cloak draped perfectly over her slender shoulders. Her sharp gaze flickered between Draco and Rose, lingering on the little girl holding his hand.
"Astoria," Draco greeted evenly, his posture straightening as if by reflex.
Astoria's eyes travelled to Rose, her expression unreadable. "Hello," she replied smoothly. "I didn't expect to see you here today."
Before he could respond, Rose tugged on his hand. "Draco, look at this!" she exclaimed, holding up a miniature model of a Quidditch pitch, enchanted with tiny, moving players. "It's like the one you have at home!"
Draco's heart skipped a beat at her words, and he saw Astoria's eyebrow arch slightly, a glimmer of curiosity flickering across her face.
"Is it now?" Draco asked, kneeling slightly to meet Rose's gaze, his voice deliberately warm to keep the tension from building. "What do you think—should we add this one to the collection?"
Rose nodded eagerly, her curls bouncing. "Yes! And you can show me how the little players move like the real ones do. Just like you did last time!"
Astoria's lips curved into a faint smile, though her sharp eyes lingered on Draco. "You've taken quite an interest in Quidditch again, haven't you?" she remarked, her tone light but probing.
Draco rose to his full height, his hand never leaving Rose's, which only seemed to heighten Astoria's attention. "Some interests are worth revisiting," he replied, his tone polite but firm.
Rose, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation, grinned and tugged on his sleeve. "Can we get it, please?"
Draco smiled down at her, ruffling her curls. "We'll see, Rose," he said softly, tapping the model with his wand to shrink it down and handing it to her.
Astoria's expression softened briefly as she glanced at Rose, but when her eyes returned to Draco, they were guarded. "You seem... settled," she remarked, her words careful but carrying an undercurrent he couldn't quite place.
"I am," Draco said simply, his tone even, though his insides churned under her scrutiny.
Astoria's gaze lingered on Rose once more before she spoke again, her tone clipped. "She's sweet. Very sweet."
"She is," Draco said firmly, unwilling to let the conversation drift into dangerous territory.
The silence stretched between them, taut with unspoken thoughts. Astoria's lips pressed into a thin line before she finally nodded. "Enjoy your shopping," she said coolly, before turning on her heel, her emerald cloak sweeping behind her as she walked away.
Draco exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders. Rose tugged on his hand, drawing his attention back to her.
"Can we get it, Draco? Please?" she pleaded, holding the model close to her chest.
Draco knelt down, brushing a stray curl from her face. "Alright, we'll get it," he said with a smile.
Rose hugged him tightly, and Draco felt a swell of warmth in his chest. As they left the shop, her chatter about the Quidditch pitch filled the air, lifting the weight of the encounter with Astoria. Yet, as much as Rose's happiness grounded him, Draco couldn't completely shake the lingering unease. He glanced down at the little girl holding his hand and resolved, for now, to focus on what mattered most.
The snow crunched under Rose's boots as she skipped down the cobblestone street, holding tightly to Draco's hand. Her mittens were a little too big, but they kept her fingers warm, and his hand felt strong and safe around hers. The cold air made her cheeks tingle, and her breath puffed out in little white clouds that made her giggle. Everything felt magical, like they were in one of her bedtime stories. Just her and Draco, out together in the snow. It was the best day ever.
"Draco, can we get ice cream now?" she asked, her voice bubbling with excitement as they stopped in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She tilted her head back to look up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. "I want to try something new today. Maybe Mummy's favourite!"
Draco glanced down at her with a small smile, his grey eyes crinkling at the corners. "Mummy's favourite? Are you sure about that?" he teased, his voice warm and playful. "What if it's terrible?"
Rose gasped, stopping in her tracks. "Lemon Sherbert isn't terrible! You love it too!"
Draco chuckled, squeezing her hand gently as he guided her inside the cosy shop. The second they stepped in, the warmth wrapped around her like a soft hug. It smelled amazing—like waffles and chocolate—and Rose felt her tummy rumble. She looked around in awe at all the jars of colourful sweets and rows of shiny ice cream tubs behind the glass.
"You're really sure you want to try it?" Draco asked again, crouching down so they were face to face. "What if it's too sour? You might not like it."
Rose put her hands on her hips, trying to look very serious. "I'm brave. I'll like it," she said firmly, though her tiny giggle gave her away.
Draco grinned and stood up, giving a small nod of approval. "Brave, are we? Alright, two Lemon Sherberts it is."
She watched as he ordered, her heart swelling a little bit. Draco always listened to her. Not just like grown-ups who nodded and said "that's nice," but really listened, like her thoughts were important. It made her feel special.
When the ice cream came, Rose carefully held her cone, her mittened hand gripping it tightly as they sat by the big window. Outside, the snowflakes twirled and danced in the air like tiny fairies, landing softly on the cobblestones. She looked at her ice cream and then at Draco, who had already taken a bite of his.
"Alright," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Moment of truth. Let's see if you like it."
Rose took a tiny, cautious lick. The tangy lemon flavour burst on her tongue, sweet and a little sour, and her eyes lit up. "It's so good!" she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.
"I told you," Draco said, giving her a mock-stern look. "It's the best flavour."
Rose laughed, swinging her legs under the table. "Do you think Mummy's eating some right now, too?" she asked between licks, her voice full of curiosity.
Draco tilted his head, pretending to think about it. "Maybe. But knowing your mum, she's probably busy saving the Ministry from some catastrophe."
Rose giggled, imagining her mum waving her wand around and looking very serious. "You know Mummy so well," she said, her voice soft with admiration.
Draco's expression softened at her words, and he reached out to lightly tap her nose, leaving a cold, creamy smudge. "I'd like to think so."
Rose wiped her nose with a laugh, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. Draco wasn't just fun; he was kind, and he made her feel safe. He was like… well, he was like a second dad, but different. He wasn't replacing her real dad. It was more like he was filling a space she didn't know had been empty until he came along.
"Draco," she began, her voice quiet as she looked up at him with wide, sincere eyes, "do you think you'll stay with us forever?"
Draco froze mid-lick of his ice cream. He blinked, clearly caught off guard by her question. "That's a big question, Rose," he said carefully, setting his cone down. "Why do you ask?"
Rose shrugged, swirling her tongue around the top of her cone. "Because I like having you around. And you make Mummy smile all the time. She's really happy when you're here. And so am I."
For a moment, Draco just looked at her. His grey eyes seemed to shine, like he was thinking really hard about something, and then his eyes softened, and something flickered across his face—something Rose didn't quite understand but felt important. He reached across the table, brushing a stray curl out of her face. "You make me happy too, Rose," he said softly. "Very happy."
Rose grinned, her heart glowing with his words. She didn't care if it sounded silly—she already knew she wanted Draco to stay in her life forever. Because her family wasn't just Mummy and Daddy anymore. It was bigger now, and it included Draco.
Draco and Rose arrived back at Hermione's flat, the soft crunch of snow still lingering in Draco's mind as they stepped inside. Rose immediately kicked off her boots and shrugged off her coat before bounding down the hall to her room, her curls bouncing with every step.
"I'm going to build a castle for my dolls!" she announced over her shoulder, her voice full of excitement.
Draco chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Try not to destroy the kingdom in the process," he called after her.
As the flat settled into a peaceful quiet, Draco wandered into the living room, his gaze drifting toward the bookshelves lining one wall. Hermione's collection was eclectic, a mix of magical tomes, Muggle classics, and everything in between. His fingers trailed over the spines until one caught his attention—a Muggle novel with an intriguing title he didn't recognise. He pulled it out, the pages smelling faintly of parchment and time, and settled onto the couch with a quiet sigh.
For a while he read, the quiet hum of the flat and the faint sounds of Rose playing in her room creating a comforting backdrop. But as his eyes traced the words on the page, his thoughts began to wander. He thought of the joy on Rose's face at the Quidditch shop, her excitement over the ice cream, and her candid question: Do you think you'll stay with us forever?
The weight of it lingered, a bittersweet warmth in his chest. He wanted to stay, he realised, more than he had admitted to himself. Yet the thought of the conversation with Hermione on Christmas Eve lingered at the edges of his mind like a shadow, threatening to cloud the happiness he felt when he was with them.
His reverie was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Hermione's otter patronus, its silvery light illuminating the room. It skittered across the floor toward him, its movements fluid and graceful.
"Draco," Hermione's voice came through, tinged with both regret and urgency, "I'm so sorry, but I'm going to be later than I thought. I won't be back until after dinner. I desperately hope that's not a problem."
The otter faded, leaving Draco staring at the spot where it had been. A faint smile tugged at his lips despite her obvious worry. He stood, walking to Hermione's desk in the corner, where he found parchment and a quill. Scribbling a quick reply, he reassured her that he'd stay with Rose and that she shouldn't worry.
"Take your time," he added, the thought almost an afterthought as he folded the note and tied it to the leg of Hermione's barn owl. The owl hooted softly before flying off into the snowy dusk.
As the afternoon melted into early evening, Draco made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and cupboards, scanning their contents with an appraising eye. The elves at the Manor had always insisted he keep away from the kitchen, but over the years, he had stubbornly learned a few things, finding solace in the process of cooking. Like brewing potions, it required precision, patience, and a little creativity.
He pulled out a few ingredients—vegetables, chicken, and a small bag of pasta—and set to work. As he chopped and sautéed, the rhythmic movements calmed his restless thoughts. The sizzle of onions in the pan, the rich aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air—it was grounding, almost meditative.
Rose peeked into the kitchen at one point, her curious eyes widening as she saw Draco at the stove. "What are you making?" she asked, her tone full of wonder, as if the sight of him cooking was a rare spectacle.
"You'll see," Draco replied with a sly smile, flipping the chicken in the pan. "It's a surprise."
Rose giggled and retreated to her room, leaving Draco to his work. As he stirred the sauce and tasted for seasoning, he felt a strange sense of contentment settle over him. For a man who had once lived a life so structured and controlled, these small, domestic moments felt oddly liberating.
When the meal was nearly done, Draco set the table, carefully placing plates and cutlery with the precision of someone who had been raised to value appearances. He glanced at the clock, wondering if Hermione had received his note yet and whether she'd managed to steal a moment to breathe in the chaos of her day.
He pushed the thought aside as he drained the pasta and added it to the sauce, the familiar satisfaction of creating something with his own hands settling over him. Tonight, it wasn't about perfection—it was about making Rose feel cared for and keeping the home warm until Hermione returned.
Draco stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning casually against the frame. His voice carried easily through the flat as he called out, "Rose! Dinner's ready!"
The faint sound of clattering toys stopped abruptly, followed by the quick patter of small feet. Moments later, Rose came bounding into the dining area, her curls bouncing with each enthusiastic step. Her cheeks were flushed from playing, and her eyes lit up at the sight of the steaming plate of pasta waiting for her.
"It smells so good, Draco!" she exclaimed, climbing eagerly into her chair. Her small hands gripped the edge of the table as she inhaled deeply, a delighted grin spreading across her face.
Draco smirked as he moved to his seat, smoothing his shirt before sitting. "Well, let's see if it tastes as good as it smells," he teased, handing her a napkin and reaching for his own fork.
Rose wasted no time, twirling a forkful of pasta and taking a big bite. "Mmm!" she hummed, nodding in approval. "It's delicious! You're a really good cook, Draco."
Draco chuckled, a flicker of pride warming his chest. "Glad to hear it," he replied, watching her with a fondness that he couldn't quite put into words.
As they ate, Rose took charge of the conversation, her bubbling energy filling the room. She launched into a detailed recounting of her day, from an epic block tower she'd built that was taller than she was, to an imaginary story about an enchanted rabbit and a talking fox. Draco listened intently, his grey eyes never leaving her animated face.
"And then the enchanted rabbit jumped onto a broomstick!" Rose declared, her fork pausing mid-air. "He was really good at Quidditch, even better than Uncle Harry."
Draco raised a brow, his lips twitching with amusement. "Better than Potter? That's a bold claim," he said, smirking as he leaned back slightly in his chair. "What position does the rabbit play?"
"Seeker, of course," Rose said matter-of-factly, twirling her fork again. "And the fox is a Beater."
Draco chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "A Beater, you say? Sounds like quite the team."
Rose beamed, clearly pleased with his engagement. "They're the best team ever! Even better than the Holyhead Harpies."
Draco nodded solemnly. "Now that's saying something."
As Rose continued to chatter, Draco found himself entirely absorbed in her world. There was something profoundly fulfilling about being part of her life in this way—listening to her stories, answering her endless questions, and sharing these simple, happy moments. The love he felt for her was deep and uncomplicated, and he realised once again just how much she meant to him.
Just as Rose was diving into another tale about her imaginary Quidditch team, the hearth in the living room roared to life. The green flames flared brightly, catching both of their attention. Hermione stepped through the fireplace, her coat half-unbuttoned and her hair slightly dishevelled. She looked utterly exhausted, yet her eyes softened immediately when she spotted Rose and Draco at the table.
"Hi, Mummy!" Rose chirped, waving her fork in the air. "Draco made pasta! It's soooo good!"
Hermione's tired face broke into a faint smile as she took in the scene: her daughter, rosy-cheeked and brimming with excitement, and Draco seated calmly across from her, looking every bit the steady presence she had come to rely on. But as much as Hermione tried to project warmth, Draco's sharp gaze caught the subtle signs of her exhaustion.
The faint shadows under her eyes seemed more pronounced tonight, and the way she leaned slightly against the back of the chair, as if even standing felt like too much, didn't escape his notice. Her hair, usually perfectly in place despite her busy life, had slipped loose from its half-up style, the frizz around her temples suggesting she'd been tugging at it during the day. Even her posture seemed more defeated than usual; her shoulders, which always carried the weight of the world, seemed heavier tonight, as though the burden had grown just a little too much.
Draco's chest tightened at the sight. He hated seeing her like this—so obviously worn down by her endless responsibilities yet still trying to smile for her daughter's sake. Her resilience was admirable, but it was moments like these that made Draco feel the overwhelming urge to do more, to lighten her load if she'd only let him. As she caught his eye, he offered her a small, knowing smile, silently promising her a moment of reprieve, even if it was only a good meal and a quiet evening in the presence of someone who cared.
Draco stood smoothly, his movements fluid as he stepped towards her. His gaze softened as he took in her weary expression. "Rough day?" he asked, his voice steady and warm.
"You have no idea," Hermione replied, letting out a heavy sigh as she shrugged off her coat and set it over the back of a chair.
Without another word, Draco moved to the kitchen. He reached for a clean plate and returned to the table, flicking his wand to lift the stasis charm he'd placed on the food earlier. The pasta steamed gently, and he set the plate down at an empty seat, pulling the chair out for her.
"Sit," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Hermione blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his calm efficiency, but the corners of her lips curved into a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you, Draco," she said quietly, sinking into the chair.
As she began to eat, Draco resumed his seat, watching as the tension in her shoulders slowly began to ease. Rose immediately picked up where she'd left off, her chatter now directed at her mum, recounting every detail of her afternoon with Draco.
"And then Draco showed me this really cool spell to fix my drawing!"
Hermione's gaze flicked to Draco, her expression softening further as she listened. "Sounds like you two had quite the day."
Draco smirked, leaning back slightly in his chair. "It was an eventful afternoon," he said, his voice carrying a touch of dry humour. "Rose has a talent for keeping things lively."
As Rose continued to chatter, Hermione's weariness seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet contentment. Draco's gaze lingered on her, and he felt an undeniable warmth settle in his chest. This—this simple, domestic moment—felt more fulfilling than anything he had known in years. For a fleeting second, he allowed himself to imagine what it might be like to have this every day, to truly call it his life.
Rose was thrilled to have her mum back, but she wasn't ready to let the spotlight go just yet. She kept talking, her words tumbling out as fast as she could think them.
"Mummy, Draco and I went to the Quidditch shop today!" Rose said between bites of pasta. "And we saw the Firebolt 3000! It's soooo fast, Draco said he'd still win, though, even on his old broom."
Hermione smiled, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth. "Did he now?" she asked, her voice warm but tired.
"Yep! And then we got ice cream. Oh, and we saw a lady Draco knows. She was wearing a fancy green cloak."
Hermione's brow quirked, her interest clearly piqued. "A lady?"
Rose nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh, her name was Astoria. She said something about being settled. I don't really remember all of it, but Draco bought me ice cream after, so it wasn't very important."
Draco coughed into his glass of water, and Hermione gave him a sharp, questioning glance. Rose didn't really understand what that was about, but she didn't care—her story wasn't done yet.
"And then we came home, and Draco made dinner! He's really good at it, Mummy. Like, really good."
Draco leaned back in his chair, giving her a mock bow. "You flatter me, Rose."
"It's not flattery if it's true," Rose said, grinning. She turned back to her mum. "Can Draco make dinner all the time? Please, Mummy?"
Hermione laughed softly, shaking her head. "We'll see, love."
Rose beamed, pleased with the non-committal answer. She felt warm and happy, sitting here with her mum and Draco, like everything in the world was exactly as it should be. She loved how Draco always listened to her stories, even the really long ones, and how he always seemed to know the answers to her questions.
In her mind, Draco had become something more than just her mum's friend. He was funny and smart, and he made her feel safe. Rose didn't know exactly what it meant, but she hoped he would stay with them forever. The idea of not having him here, sitting across the table, made her chest feel heavy, so she quickly pushed the thought away.
"Rose," Draco said, drawing her attention, "you've barely touched your green beans."
Rose wrinkled her nose. "But I don't like green beans."
Draco smirked, tilting his head. "Oh, is that so? I thought you wanted to grow taller than James. Eating your green beans might help."
Rose narrowed her eyes, clearly considering this. "Will it really?"
"Absolutely," Draco said solemnly, though there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
With a dramatic sigh, Rose stabbed a green bean with her fork and popped it into her mouth. "Fine, but only because I want to be taller."
Hermione laughed, and Rose felt a rush of pride. She loved making her mum laugh, especially when she seemed tired like today.
When dinner was done, Rose helped clear the table, carefully stacking plates and handing them to Draco. He always thanked her like she was doing something very important, which made her feel grown-up.
As the evening stretched on, Rose's eyelids grew heavier. She yawned as she shuffled over to Draco, leaning against him.
"Tired already?" he asked, brushing a stray curl from her face.
Rose nodded, feeling safe and warm against him. "Will you tuck me in tonight?"
Draco smiled, a soft look on his face. "Of course," he said, standing and scooping her up in his arms.
Rose glanced back at her mum as Draco carried her down the hall. "Goodnight, Mummy!"
"Goodnight, love," Hermione called after her, her voice filled with warmth.
As Draco laid her down and tucked the blanket snugly around her, Rose smiled up at him sleepily. "I love you, Draco," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
Draco's hand paused where it was smoothing her blanket. He looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Rosie," he said softly.
As Rose drifted off to sleep, her last thought was a happy one: this was what a family was supposed to feel like.
I love writing Draco and Rose together. One of the reasons I started this fic!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! We only have 6 more to go.