The sun was warm but not overbearing, a gentle breeze rolling in from the ocean as you lay beside Draco on the cushioned daybed. The resort was quiet at this hour, the lull of waves and distant chatter blending into a soothing hum.

Draco was propped up on one elbow, his other hand hovering over Scorpius, who lay between you both on his back, blinking up at his father with wide, curious eyes. The baby gurgled, waving his tiny fists, and Draco caught one in his palm, pressing a soft kiss to the pudgy fingers.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “Just like your mother.”

You scoffed, nudging him with your foot. “Excuse me?”

Draco smirked, but his attention remained on the baby, who cooed happily. “Oh, you know it’s true. Stubborn, impossible—” Scorpius wriggled, kicking out his chubby legs, and Draco let out a rare, unguarded laugh. “Merlin, you’re going to give me grey hair before thirty.”

You watched them, your heart full at the sight of Draco Lucius Malfoy—utterly lost in his son. He tickled Scorpius’ belly, earning a delighted squeal, and his smirk softened into something more tender.

“You’re so small,” he murmured, almost to himself. “How did someone so small change everything?”

You reached over, brushing your fingers through Draco’s blond hair. He leaned into the touch instinctively, his gaze flicking to you before returning to Scorpius, his expression unreadable—but full of something deep, something vulnerable.

“He’s perfect,” you whispered.

Draco exhaled, slow and steady. “Yeah,” he admitted. “He really is.”