the sun dipped low in the sky, drenching the clearing in amber light. the breeze stirred the tall grass around the cottage, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers and salt from the distant sea. you reclined on the lawn chair, the soft fabric warm beneath you, aurore resting soundly on your chest. her tiny breaths rose and fell in rhythm with your own, her warmth a quiet tether in this secluded corner of the world.

draco worked a short distance away, his hands busy assembling the frame of a chicken coop. planks of wood lay scattered around him, their rough edges softened by his careful work. his wand sat discarded in the grass, a deliberate choice—he preferred the weight of tools in his hands, the distraction of the physical task grounding him in a way magic never could. dirt smudged his forearms, his rolled-up sleeves exposing sinewy strength earned through years of endurance rather than ease.

he paused, leaning back on his heels, and glanced toward you. his gaze lingered for a moment on aurore before it shifted back to the coop. “do you think we’ll have eggs before winter?” he asked, his tone light, almost casual, though his brow furrowed as if the question held a deeper weight.

before you could answer, he stood abruptly, brushing dirt from his palms as he crossed the clearing. his wand flicked into his hand with an ease that betrayed how rarely he allowed himself to be without it. a soft murmur of incantations followed, and the faint shimmer of the wards sparked briefly around the edge of the clearing. he tested them carefully, a flicker of tension tightening his jaw.

satisfied—or at least momentarily reassured—he lowered his wand and glanced back at you. “just making sure,” he said simply, though his voice carried an edge of anxiety he didn’t bother to hide.