aquila

Harry holds a small baby in his arms. Harry is astounded. She’s tiny. Barely the size of an otter.

“You cannot be serious,” Ron grumbles.

“No one else will take her. And the few that will… Well, let’s say they aren’t exactly the wholesome type,” Hermione emphasises carefully.

Harry isn’t paying his best mates half a mind. The sleeping babe in his arms is incredible. She’s snoring softly, a little huff now and then. So quiet and strangely calm in his hold.

“Well, then drop her off at an orphanage,” Ron sighs, waving a hand vaguely before crossing his arms uncomfortably.

Harry’s head snaps up at that. “No,” he answers sharply. “No orphanages, no distant relatives. She’ll be moving in with me.”