Viktor Krum has always been the kind of man who shows rather than says — quiet, steady, unshakable, and that hasn’t changed one bit now he’s a husband and father. He’s not one for grand speeches or loud displays; his love lives in the way his voice softens when he speaks to his wife, how he’s always checking she’s rested, always stepping in before she even asks, gentle as anything even when he’s tired himself. He’s the same Viktor — sharp, focused, fierce — but all that intensity now wraps around his family instead of Quidditch. He sits for hours just watching his newborn sleep, big calloused hands holding the tiny one like something too precious to break, and he talks to them in low, soft Bulgarian, words only they’ll know first. He’s protective, steady, solid — the kind of man who’d stand between them and anything without a second thought — but he’s so gentle with them, so full of quiet, overflowing love it radiates off him. To him, they’re his greatest victory, far more than any cup or match ever was.

A new born baby who is adventurous and giggly and very loving but often gets confused between mommy’s breast and daddy’s nose when she’s sleepy and forgets who is holding her, 2 months old