First Fic Posting - Go easy on me.
Authors Notes: I've been lurking around LJ for a long time, enjoying the brilliance of all the wonderful writers. I've finally gathered up my courage and decided to post something I've written. I hope you like it. And if you don't, I hope you can take a moment to tell me why so I can improve. All comments welcome; con/crit needed. Well *gulp* here it is:
Title: The Power of Choice
Author: VWalk
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff, Mpreg, Established Relationship
Summary: Harry and Draco in the Quiet of the Night
In the Quiet
Later, he would try, without success, to remember actually waking up. Trying to capture those few minutes between when his seeking hand found no answering warmth on the other side of the bed, and finding himself standing fully alert, wand in hand in a room shrouded in shadows. Instincts honed in the midst of war were slowly fading in this post-Voldemort environment. Still, it took him a few minutes to calm his racing heart and to identify the room as his bedroom. The one he shared with his husband. His husband who was not currently in the bed.
Long strides carried him across the room and out the bedroom door to the top of the landing. Pausing to listen, the unbroken stillness did nothing to pinpoint his husband’s location. Wanting to call out but loath to disturb the peaceful quiet, he walked slowly down the stairs.
As he turned the corner, the flickering light of a fire drew him into the cozy sitting room. Immediately the golden glow of the dying fire highlighted his spouse, asleep in front of the fireplace. Silent steps took him to the sofa where he knelt and caressed the smooth brow. His eyes traced the face he loved so much and moved on to the bulging stomach, heavy with child. His child. His children.
Sleepy eyes slowly opened to gaze at him.
“Why are you down here?” The softly spoken words brushed his ear and drew a smile to his face.
“I believe that’s my line. Since we started out in bed.” A matching smile lifted the corners of his mouth as the firelight cast a golden glow over the features he loved so much.
“Your sons were playing Quidditch using my ribs as bludgers. I was trying not to wake you.”
Strong hands, one pale as moonlight, the other golden bronze clasped over the rounded fullness of the unborn children, stroking softly.
“You weren’t beside me. That woke me.” The simple truth of that statement resounded in the flickering shadows. “May I join you?”
Burgeoning hips shifted to make room on the wide seat. Soon they lay spooned together, both hands still clasping their unborn children as they gazed at the softly glowing embers.
A quiet “Accio blanket,” had a soft cashmere blanket settling over them, cocooning them in warmth.
“Go back to sleep.”
With his family, his world, safe in his arms, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.