You and the boys were having a sleepover at your house. You were curled up on the sofa, with Draco sitting close by. A thin blanket was draped over your legs. You hadn't meant for it to seem cosy. It just happened. Right?

Across from you, Mattheo and Lorenzo were engaged in a chaotic debate about a game that neither of them fully understood. Regulus was sitting cross-legged on the floor, absently flipping through a book. Theodore was hovering nearby with a bowl of chocolate-covered almonds that he refused to share.

Draco leaned over and murmured something in your ear. His fingers brushed lightly over your knee beneath the blanket.

At that moment, you saw your father disappearing towards the kitchen.

“Daddy!” you exclaimed brightly, hoping he would bring more snacks.

But the moment the word left your mouth, time seemed to stop.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Your father's voice called out casually from the next room.

At the same time—

“Yes, babygirl?” Draco responded, like he’s said it a hundred times before.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Lorenzo froze with an almond halfway to his mouth. Mattheo slowly turned around, raising his eyebrows. Regulus dropped his book. Theodore’s eyes widened as he let out a quiet "Oooooh no..."

Your stomach dropped. You turned to Draco, your eyes wide with horror.

“Draco!” you hissed, swatting his arm.

He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he smirked, completely unbothered. “Sorry, baby,” he said with a shrug, clearly not sorry at all.

Your father stepped back into the room, holding a fresh drink. His eyes scanned the stunned silence, then landed on Draco, who was still casually lounging next to you with one arm suspiciously resting along the back of the sofa behind your shoulders.

Your father raised an eyebrow and chuckled. Actually chuckled.

“Well,” he said, taking a slow sip of his whisky, “I suppose I should be glad she didn’t mean the other kind of 'Daddy'.”

You choked. Mattheo howled with laughter. Theodore dropped his almonds. Lorenzo nearly fell off the couch.

Draco just grinned wider.

“I—Dad!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t say things like that!”

He waved a hand, amused. “Oh, come on. I wasn’t mad. Just... mildly horrified.”

Your father turned to Draco. “So. How long had this been going on?”

Draco tilted his head. “Officially? Three months. Unofficially? Probably longer. Sir.”

Your father nodded thoughtfully. “And the ‘babygirl’ thing?”

You shrieked into your hands.

Draco smiled like it was no big deal. “Also unofficially for a while. Slipped out just now. Won’t happen again… publicly.”

Your father just sighed, amused. “Well, if you break her heart, Draco, I know where your father lives.”

Draco lifted his glass in salute. “Understood, sir.”

You peeked out between your fingers. “So… you’re not mad?”

“No, sweetheart,” your father said, smiling warmly. “Just… next time, maybe warn me before announcing it in public.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

You looked at Draco, who leaned in and whispered, “Could’ve been worse, baby. He could’ve hexed me.”