Draco’s chest constricted at the sight of Hermione gently swaying her shoulders and hips, sauntering closer to the open doors with the bundled-up baby. The warm smile on her face was genuine. Her tinkling laughter filled the night air as she discussed  whatever it was  with Potter’s wife. Heat welled behind his eyes when she dipped her head down, closing her eyes to smell the top of the baby’s head. He allowed himself a moment to imagine the black hair was white. And instead of an exile, spying from a distance, he was inside, caring for and worshiping her like the goddess she was.