For flewtothemoon
Here's your fic! I hope you like :).
Harry bounced a fussy Allison in his arms as he warmed the baby bottle in a pot on the stove, whispering inane stats about Quidditch from the past ten years in dulcet tones. Little Allison, however, was completely disinterested, and with each fact Harry relayed grew louder and louder until Harry was positive she would cry her way through the Silencing Spell he’d put on the kitchen.
“Mummy needs rest, Allison,” Harry whispered against the baby’s temple, checking the bottle and deciding it was warm enough. Allison’s cries waned to silence at Harry’s comment, and her brown-green eyes looked at him curiously.
Harry grinned at her, kissing a dusky cheek even as he offered the bottle to her. Allison’s mouth clamped over the nipple immediately, and Harry sat down at the kitchen table, watching his daughter feed with a smile on his face.
Allison Lily Potter, it seemed, would inherit her mother’s delicate features-right down to the curly hair that was no more than a tuft on her little head. Harry was infinitely pleased by this, for he knew his wife was the more attractive of the two.
But maybe Allison would grow to be an athlete like he’d been, or proficient in Defense . . . between his wife being a Ravenclaw and his skill against Dark Magic, Harry felt comfortable thinking so.
Or maybe Allison would be an artist like her mum, painting masterpieces that had Muggles and Wizards alike clamoring for a slice of that creativity. Maybe Allison would sculpt instead of paint, or even take up photography or creative writing . . . the sky was the limit for his baby girl-with or without the aid of a broom.
When Allison let the nipple slide from her mouth, Harry knew she was done feeding. He set her on her shoulder and began patting her back so she could burp. Allison jerkily moved her head so her eyes met his, and Harry grinned. Allison panted, trying to crawl up his shoulder, but Harry shook his head and kissed hers.
“Not even four months and you’re already trying to leave your old man . . .” Allison panted again in response and Harry chuckled. At least when Allison did leave, it wouldn’t be under the threat of war and chaos as when he did. He’d given his little girl peace, and he would do anything in his power to keep it that way.
Allison finally burped and Harry had to wonder if that wasn’t the most adorable sound he’d ever heard. Ron had told him having a baby could turn even the manliest of men into great big ponces, and with each day Harry spent with Allison, he was inclined to agree. Everything about his daughter was wonder and awe, and Harry Potter, the proclaimed “savior” or the Wizarding World, was fascinated and at the mercy of a four month old.
Then again, Allison was clearly her mother’s child, so total surrender was not that surprising.
Allison’s eyes began to flutter, and Harry cradled the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, love,” he whispered, standing and extinguishing the lights as he left the kitchen. Harry settled the sleeping baby in her crib, kissing her nose and whispering his love before crawling into bed and cuddling his wife.
“Harry?” she asked sleepily, stirring as his arms slid around her waist.
“Shh, love,” he cooed, dropping a kiss atop her curly head. “Go back to sleep . . .”
Her arms drew his tighter around her and he smiled, moving one to take off his glasses before wrapping it around her again.
“Love you, Lisa,” he murmured into her hair.
Lisa burrowed her body into his. “Love you, too, Harry.”
The Potter household slept peacefully for the rest of the night.
Harry bounced a fussy Allison in his arms as he warmed the baby bottle in a pot on the stove, whispering inane stats about Quidditch from the past ten years in dulcet tones. Little Allison, however, was completely disinterested, and with each fact Harry relayed grew louder and louder until Harry was positive she would cry her way through the Silencing Spell he’d put on the kitchen.
“Mummy needs rest, Allison,” Harry whispered against the baby’s temple, checking the bottle and deciding it was warm enough. Allison’s cries waned to silence at Harry’s comment, and her brown-green eyes looked at him curiously.
Harry grinned at her, kissing a dusky cheek even as he offered the bottle to her. Allison’s mouth clamped over the nipple immediately, and Harry sat down at the kitchen table, watching his daughter feed with a smile on his face.
Allison Lily Potter, it seemed, would inherit her mother’s delicate features-right down to the curly hair that was no more than a tuft on her little head. Harry was infinitely pleased by this, for he knew his wife was the more attractive of the two.
But maybe Allison would grow to be an athlete like he’d been, or proficient in Defense . . . between his wife being a Ravenclaw and his skill against Dark Magic, Harry felt comfortable thinking so.
Or maybe Allison would be an artist like her mum, painting masterpieces that had Muggles and Wizards alike clamoring for a slice of that creativity. Maybe Allison would sculpt instead of paint, or even take up photography or creative writing . . . the sky was the limit for his baby girl-with or without the aid of a broom.
When Allison let the nipple slide from her mouth, Harry knew she was done feeding. He set her on her shoulder and began patting her back so she could burp. Allison jerkily moved her head so her eyes met his, and Harry grinned. Allison panted, trying to crawl up his shoulder, but Harry shook his head and kissed hers.
“Not even four months and you’re already trying to leave your old man . . .” Allison panted again in response and Harry chuckled. At least when Allison did leave, it wouldn’t be under the threat of war and chaos as when he did. He’d given his little girl peace, and he would do anything in his power to keep it that way.
Allison finally burped and Harry had to wonder if that wasn’t the most adorable sound he’d ever heard. Ron had told him having a baby could turn even the manliest of men into great big ponces, and with each day Harry spent with Allison, he was inclined to agree. Everything about his daughter was wonder and awe, and Harry Potter, the proclaimed “savior” or the Wizarding World, was fascinated and at the mercy of a four month old.
Then again, Allison was clearly her mother’s child, so total surrender was not that surprising.
Allison’s eyes began to flutter, and Harry cradled the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, love,” he whispered, standing and extinguishing the lights as he left the kitchen. Harry settled the sleeping baby in her crib, kissing her nose and whispering his love before crawling into bed and cuddling his wife.
“Harry?” she asked sleepily, stirring as his arms slid around her waist.
“Shh, love,” he cooed, dropping a kiss atop her curly head. “Go back to sleep . . .”
Her arms drew his tighter around her and he smiled, moving one to take off his glasses before wrapping it around her again.
“Love you, Lisa,” he murmured into her hair.
Lisa burrowed her body into his. “Love you, too, Harry.”
The Potter household slept peacefully for the rest of the night.