A/N: I was reviewing a list of the stories I've written: Angst, check. Smut, check. Humor, check. Multi-chaptered story in the works that is frustrating me and from which I need a diversion, check. Next up on the plate…fluff. It seems popular around here and it's my next challenge.
I'm dedicating this to my OBHTF (One Big Happy Twisted Family)…Kaze, Goldy, and Demosthenes…you need to lighten up. J (And don't worry…I do realize that I need to add dark and twisted "chrissy" story to my list. *winks*) I love you all. Hope you enjoy this small diversion into the light and airy side of things.
As always, I need to thank the lovely Cheering Charm for being a wonderful beta. She keeps me honest!
Standard Disclaimer: Not my characters, but a girl can dream.
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Beauty
"I'm. So. Knackered."
Harry opened his eyes and sighed. "Me, too, love. To be fair, they did warn us, didn't they? Ron and Luna. Neville and Prudence. Molly and Arthur. Every parent we know told us we could kiss our blissful days of weekend lie-ins goodbye."
"I know, I know. Please don't remind me that we went into this with eyes wide open."
"Um…"
"Oh, shut it, you. You know what I meant," Hermione said in a tired and exasperated voice. She rolled over, buried her head beneath her pillow, and groaned.
"He's only four weeks old, Hermione." Harry turned to face her and started rubbing her back. "He's already sleeping more than when we brought him home. That's a good sign, right?"
"Mrrt."
"You'll see. Once he's sleeping through the night, we'll be the picture of serenity," he said with confidence, followed by a muttered, "…and maybe even have a grip on reality again." He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder, which was peeking out from beneath the pillowcase.
Hermione removed the pillow from her head and bunched it up underneath her. She turned to face her husband of ten years. "Simple calculations, darling, would have him sleeping through the night when he's approximately eighteen years old. I'm not certain I can hold out that long." She stared at him. "But I love you, anyway, Father of My Child." She smiled.
"Oy! You didn't say that with much sincerity, Mother of My Son."
"Well, I meant it anyway, you git," she said. "Can you believe it, Harry? We're parents. Who in Merlin's name was barmy enough to allow us to become actual parents? A mum and dad." She shook her head in disbelief. "Mustn't have been thinking right, whoever they were. Maybe they were sleep-deprived, as well."
"Come here, gorgeous." He reached out for Hermione and brought her into his arms. He hugged her close to him and nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, nibbled her earlobes, and placed light, butterfly kisses on her cheek.
"Oh, Harry," she sighed and spoke in a soft voice, "I'd suffer sleep deprivation any day for you." She closed her eyes and reveled in his touches, playing with his hair while he made her feel like a woman again.
"How is it you can turn me from a sour old cow who feels ugly, fat, and exhausted into a grateful woman who feels happy, charmed, and…," her lips curled up into a sly smile, "dare I say, sexy? And you've done it in no time. You are a wizard of incomparable talents, my love." She was practically purring - a warm pile of goo melting in his arms.
"Mmm," was all Harry said in response. He continued to work his magic on her, moving his free hand over the features of her face while he continued to kiss her along her jaw and on her neck. He smoothed his thumb over her closed eyelids and traced her cheekbone with his index finger. He then moved his fingers over her lips and he felt her tongue reach out to taste him. She kissed his fingers lightly.
"Harry," she moaned. "This feels so good, but I'm starting to, well, react. I mean, I'm, er, getting rather randy. If you keep going, I'm going to be desperate for a shag. And I can't," she whined. "Remember? I have two weeks left before I'm cleared to…," she sighed as he hit a soft spot between her neck and shoulder, "remind you why you're the luckiest bloody wizard alive. That is, if I ever have the energy again."
Harry pushed himself up and kissed her full on the mouth, parting her lips with his tongue and eliciting a throaty groan from her. He moved his tongue and his lips with languor, not wanting this kiss to cease. It lasted a good thirty seconds. She was breathless at the end of it.
"Oh, you'll find the energy, gorgeous. You can't keep your hands off me and you bloody well know it." To emphasise his point, he grabbed her arse and squeezed.
"Your confidence is inspiring. But I'm afraid for now your son is going to be the only one getting any action around here. Feels like it's almost time for him to wake up again and feed off of my glands."
"Ugh, Hermione! That's one way to dampen the mood. Aren't you meant to be all mother-earth-like about nursing? Not all mother-Freud-like?"
"Yeah, yeah. Well, that'll happen later in this adventure, when I'm rested, sexually aware and satisfied, and not feeling like there's a needle piercing my nipple each time he latches on."
"Hmm…pierced nipples, eh?"
"Don't even think about it. Is that all the sympathy I get?" She pouted and buried her face in his chest.
He chuckled. "Oh, love, I'm sorry. If I could feed him for you, I would. Unfortunately, he takes after his old man. You're the only one that has what he needs. Sound familiar?"
She smiled and kissed his bare chest. Looking up at him, she grabbed his face between her hands. "You're the only one that has what I need, as well, Harry."
The sound of cooing drew their attention over Harry's shoulder to the cot sitting next to their bed. James Xavier Potter was waking for the first time since his 4am feeding, three hours earlier.
Hermione groaned, "Ask not for whom the bell tolls…."
"Hermione! Our baby boy wants to fill his empty belly with, and I quote, 'the only food good enough for the product of our love,' and this is how you react!" He feigned shock and disappointment.
"Oh, pish-posh, I'm only joking. Hand me that beautiful boy." She sat herself up and fluffed her pillows behind her. Scooting her bum backwards, she rested against the pillows and held her arms out to Harry.
Harry rolled over and put his feet on the ground. Reaching into the cot, he felt for James's blanket and pulled it out first. Placing it over his shoulder, he scooped the tiny squirming infant, who had started to cry, out of his warm bed.
"There, there, little man. Shhhh. Daddy's here." He patted the baby's back and kissed his head, hugging him close for a moment before sliding back into bed and placing him in Hermione's waiting arms.
"Good morning, baby James." Hermione held her son a few inches from her, supporting his head with both her hands while his feet pushed at her belly. She smiled at him and nuzzled his cheeks. "Remember me? I'm your mummy. We just did this a few hours ago, but it looks like you're going to kick up a fuss until we do it again, aren't you? Daddy says you're a carbon copy of him, and you know what? I think he's right. Yes, he is," she said while rubbing his nose with hers. "Always nagging Mummy to feed him, just like you."
Harry snorted in disapproval. "Don't believe her, son. Daddy does most of the cooking around here. And you'll be right thankful for it when there's more than milk on the menu."
Hermione tutted at him, then moved her left hand down to the hem of her pyjama top and lifted it up over her breast.
"Are you ready for breakfast, then, squirt?" She gently moved him into position and held him in the crook of her left arm. He took the proffered nipple in his mouth and latched on with little effort. Hermione sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, squeezing her eyes tight and grimacing.
"All right, Hermione?" Harry inquired. He snuggled in close to her and put his arms around his family. He felt a tear hit his chest and he squeezed his wife a bit tighter. "Love?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. The mediwitch told me it would stop after a time, but it hurts like mad when he latches on." She sighed as the pain ebbed.
"I know I sound like the worst mother in the world, complaining about this perfect child, Harry. I'm sorry. I don't mean to." She continued in an emotional whisper, "I'm so grateful for him. I'm so happy, Harry." She leaned further into him while James continued to suckle away at her breast, pleasantly oblivious to the swirl of emotions surrounding him.
Harry held Hermione as close as possible without upsetting the baby's position. He kissed the top of her head.
"I know that, Hermione. I do know. It's hard, this parenting business. I reckon new motherhood is the most stressful job there is. Your body has been through so much…and it hasn't let up since you've popped him out, either. You're simply exhausted, love. Think nothing of it." He touched his son's downy head, which was covered with the softest fluff of hair he'd ever felt. "This little one loves you already, Hermione. He's going to grow up knowing for certain that he's the luckiest little wizard in the world to have you for a mother. Well, second luckiest, anyway. No one could be luckier than I am to have you."
He kissed her head again and stroked her arm. He could feel her smile against his chest and his heart constricted.
Right here, in this bed, in his arms, he had everything he'd always wanted. Everything he'd thought he'd never have. Love - pure and simple and unadulterated. Family. His family. His amazing wife; their exquisite little boy…who was currently sputtering, signaling the need to relieve his belly.
Harry gently sat up and took James from Hermione's arms. "Right. My job. Come here, James Potter, and give Daddy a belch to be proud of." He could sense Hermione's eyeroll and he smiled. He held his son high up against his chest and shoulder and patted his back with emphasis until he heard a burp worthy of any good Marauder grandson.
"Great wizards, James, was that you?" Hermione smiled at him and grabbed his tiny hands as Harry sat him up on his lap. "Wouldn't Uncle Ron be proud? Ready for the other side, then?"
The baby began to work his mouth and lean toward Hermione as if he knew exactly what she was saying. Harry could hear his little mouth working.
"Brilliant. Obviously a genius, just like his Mum."
"You heard that then? He's going to have blisters on his jaw at this rate. And he'll have put on a stone before he's two months old, as well!" Hermione shook her head, marveling at her son's appetite as she raised the right side of her shirt and set him to her right breast.
"He's a growing boy."
"Ouch!" Hermione hissed once again as little James latched on. Then she settled back against the pillows.
"Shall I make us a spot of breakfast, then, love? You need to keep up your strength." Harry made to get out of bed, but Hermione pulled him back by his arm.
"No, Harry, stay here with us. Please? I like this first feeding of the day…when we're together in bed like this. Come hold us again. Please?"
He smiled and settled in next to her, wrapping his arms around them again. He knew that she would close her eyes and attempt to get some rest if he stayed, so he pulled her as close to him as possible, firmly supporting her back.
Harry took the time to explore the beauty that was his child once again. He played with his son's tiny toes. He felt the muscles in the baby's round legs and pinched the fat on his thighs. He smoothed his hand over the baby's belly and played with his wee fingers. He felt the rolls of fat on his arms and worked his way up to James's face. He was delighted and enthralled by the diminutive features. He ran his fingers over his velvety soft head again, feeling his exposed ear and the smooth skin of his forehead and cheek. His index finger touched the baby's nose and traced the curve of it up to and over his eyebrows. His fingers followed the line over his eyes, to his cheekbone, and back to his little mouth. He touched the spot where his son's mouth was working hard to extract milk from his wife's breast.
He felt a tear collect in his eye.
There was something so beautiful about this moment. Life at its most basic…and its most poignant.
All this child knew of this world was his mother and father. Always there to hold him, feed him, change his nappies, clothe him, keep him safe and warm. Harry wondered, not for the first time since little James's birth, if his own mother and father had experienced this same moment. For all of his loving them…for all the times he missed them…for all those dreams brought to life in his imagination, necessary to survive the loneliness in the cupboard under the stairs, where he reveled in their affection…he never understood what they went through until that moment four and a half weeks earlier when he'd first held his own child. The depth of love that he felt for this innocent life was enough to knock the wind out of him. For the first time, he understood what his parents went through. How they must have feared for him. How they could so easily give their lives for him.
And basking in the wonder of his son, who now held Harry's index finger firmly in his right hand, he understood why they did it.
They were fighting for his chance to live this moment. They were fighting for his chance to see life overcome death…light overcome darkness.
Ironic. In his own personal darkness, this was all so clear to him now. At thirty-two years of age, he was just coming to an understanding of the moment that defined his life more than thirty years earlier. He was overwhelmed. He was grateful.
He was also blind.
He had given up his sight - lost it in the final battle against Lord Voldemort. When Voldemort was destroyed, he took Harry's vision with him. In a blinding flash of light, Tom Riddle was banished from the world…and Harry, who was barely clinging to life at the time, would never see again.
In the years following, he and Hermione had learned to accept each day as a gift. They had survived the war, but the aftermath…the pain of grieving for those who were lost, the difficulty recovering from their injuries, the post-traumatic stress, the acceptance of Harry's blindness, the pressure of dealing with the demands of fame and hero worship…it was a burden that at times threatened to consume them. Finally, after a few years of struggling, they made it to a place where they felt safe moving on. They were married in a private ceremony in Italy, with only Ron and Luna in attendance.
They spent years ignoring it, though, before they had addressed the issue of children. They became godparents to all of Ron's four children, of course, and honorary aunt and uncle to all the Weasley grandchildren. Eventually, after seemingly all of their friends had become parents, Hermione broached the subject with Harry. But Harry was scared.
He was scared of being less than…less than capable, less than whole, less than worthy. He had been forced to deal with these insecurities when accepting Hermione's love and lifelong commitment (eternal commitment, they had agreed), but a child…. He was scared to death of not being enough for their child.
And yet, here they were….
His fingers still lingered on Hermione's breast while James gripped his index finger with uncommon strength for someone so small. Hermione pulled back from resting on his chest and kissed the corner of his mouth. She laid her head in the crook of his neck and quietly interrupted his reverie. "What are you thinking about?"
"Dunno," he said shrugging his shoulders. "The gift of life, I suppose. Nature. Responsibility. What it means to be a parent. What we did to get here." He hesitated for a moment and then whispered, "I hope I'm good enough for him, Hermione. I hope we get to spend forever telling him how much he means to us."
"I understand." She kissed his neck. "I know you're thinking of them. I am, too, Harry. And my own parents who'll never get to meet him, either. This is how we repay their sacrifice, Harry. We took a risk bringing this life into the world, true. But it's entirely worth it. Don't you think that James and Lily Potter, Richard and Lucy Granger…don't you think wherever they are, they're smiling now? Don't you think that they're happy for us? That they want the world for their grandson? I don't know what kind of place they're inhabiting, Harry. I don't know if I believe in an afterlife or not. But something…there must be something. Or else what's the point?" She looked at her son. "How can something this beautiful exist in a vacuum? It's not possible." She shook her head and looked back at Harry. "No. I rather think they're out there somewhere, boring each other silly with stories of us as babies. Celebrating the continuation of life." She looked at James again. "Celebrating the newest little Potter."
Harry touched her face tenderly. He was in awe of this woman and her strength. And so damn grateful that she was here to share his life with him.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too, Harry. Always."
"We'll be all right, won't we?" He hated himself for requiring her assurance once again. But it meant so much to him. She was his fortitude, as she always had been.
"Of course we'll be all right, love. We have each other. We're a family, Harry. Even when it was only you and me, we were a family. Now, with James…well, we have a bit of the future, don't we? We have hope."
Harry wiped his bare eyes with the back of his hand. He heard his son cough a bit and smiled.
"My turn again," he said in a choked up voice.
Hermione lifted James and handed him to Harry. He held his son close to him, whispering in his ear, "I will always love you, James Potter. No matter what happens…I will always love you." After burping him, Harry laid him down on the bed between Hermione and him. He followed suit and felt Hermione do the same. He reached across with his left hand and traced the features of his wife's face with his fingers.
"There is nothing I could ever do to repay you, or to thank you enough for what you've done for me since we were eleven years old. Just know that I am yours, Hermione. Just know that there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Thank you for my life. Thank you for our son. Thank you for gracing me with beauty so wondrous, even a blind man can see it. Thank you."
He felt the tears on her face and leaned over their son to kiss them away. She held his head with her right hand and kissed him on the lips in an obvious response to his words. She was delicate and tender, yet passionate, and she managed to whisper against his mouth, "I love you so much."
Then they lay down and watched over their child as he slept, their hands linked at his feet.