Baby Fluff
gabrielladusult asks and she shall receive:
(this snippet is cut from a longer one-shot of mine. It is Albus Dumbledore's views on love as told to Harry)
But the love that struck me most, and has stayed with me year after year, was a love between a parent and a child. Sit with me as I tell you this story, Harry. Hear of your first days on this earth.
I walked into the door of the small cottage with a soft swish of my robes. The unbearable heat wave that had struck the United Kingdom was left on the doorstep as the inside of the minute abode had been magically cooled.
“Professor Dumbledore.” I was greeted with a handshake and a smile by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.
“I hear congratulations are in order. We have a new member of the Potter family.” Greeting this makeshift family, I handed over a package of cigars to the two young men who greeted me.
James Potter strolled out of a doorway to the left and gave a small tired smile. “Come in, Professor. Come see him.”
Walking into the bedroom, I found the proud mother sitting in a rocker with a small swaddled bundle in her arms. She stood even as I bade her sit.
“Sit and hold him, Professor.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I have twitchy limbs, the folly of being old, you know.”
But with the pleading look from the young parent’s eyes imploring me, I sat. Accepting the small bundle, I looked at the black hair sticking in all directions. Looking at James, I gave a small huff of laughter. “It would seem, Mr. Potter, that young Harry has your hair.”
Remus Lupin and Sirius Black stood at the threshold watching the tableau in front of them, shadowed by Peter Pettigrew. Muted snickers soon filled the room as we discussed poor Harry’s plight of having his fathers’ hair. I watched as Lily, reverently, touched her son’s unruly hair. And she whispered, so softly:
“I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a thing.”
Wetness blurred my vision for a moment.
“Our differences are what make us unique, Mrs. Potter. It is good to note that your son will be loved, it is a wonderful legacy to leave our children.”
She looked at me with those green eyes. I shall never forget that look she gave me.
“Yes, well, Professor, you gave us a grand example. We are, after all, your legacy of love.” She then stroked Harry’s pink cheek. “And he is our legacy.”
(this snippet is cut from a longer one-shot of mine. It is Albus Dumbledore's views on love as told to Harry)
But the love that struck me most, and has stayed with me year after year, was a love between a parent and a child. Sit with me as I tell you this story, Harry. Hear of your first days on this earth.
I walked into the door of the small cottage with a soft swish of my robes. The unbearable heat wave that had struck the United Kingdom was left on the doorstep as the inside of the minute abode had been magically cooled.
“Professor Dumbledore.” I was greeted with a handshake and a smile by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.
“I hear congratulations are in order. We have a new member of the Potter family.” Greeting this makeshift family, I handed over a package of cigars to the two young men who greeted me.
James Potter strolled out of a doorway to the left and gave a small tired smile. “Come in, Professor. Come see him.”
Walking into the bedroom, I found the proud mother sitting in a rocker with a small swaddled bundle in her arms. She stood even as I bade her sit.
“Sit and hold him, Professor.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I have twitchy limbs, the folly of being old, you know.”
But with the pleading look from the young parent’s eyes imploring me, I sat. Accepting the small bundle, I looked at the black hair sticking in all directions. Looking at James, I gave a small huff of laughter. “It would seem, Mr. Potter, that young Harry has your hair.”
Remus Lupin and Sirius Black stood at the threshold watching the tableau in front of them, shadowed by Peter Pettigrew. Muted snickers soon filled the room as we discussed poor Harry’s plight of having his fathers’ hair. I watched as Lily, reverently, touched her son’s unruly hair. And she whispered, so softly:
“I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a thing.”
Wetness blurred my vision for a moment.
“Our differences are what make us unique, Mrs. Potter. It is good to note that your son will be loved, it is a wonderful legacy to leave our children.”
She looked at me with those green eyes. I shall never forget that look she gave me.
“Yes, well, Professor, you gave us a grand example. We are, after all, your legacy of love.” She then stroked Harry’s pink cheek. “And he is our legacy.”