Hi darlings! So, guess whose on vacation? That’s right, me! Here’s a little (hinny) thing I wrote to placate you whilst I work on a multi-chapter fic! Yes, after much deliberation I’ve decided to focus my efforts on a multi-chapter fic! I’ll let you know when I’m done! xxx enjoy.
The first time he saw Ginny hold James in her arms, he felt
all the hours of exhaustion fly of him in a second, he looked at his wife and
his baby and he felt at home. The officious whitewashed walls of the hospital
melted away until it was only the three of them, breathing almost in synch.
“I can’t wait to go home,” Ginny sighed into his shoulder,
shifting in the uncomfortable bed.
“I’m already home,” he said immediately, realizing when he
said it that it was the truest thing in the world.
Ginny and Harry were never going to settle down to the quiet
life of two war heroes as everyone expected, but with James to take care of and
another baby on the way they had to make some changes.
Ginny was no longer the wild child that she’d allowed
herself to be in her teens, she was a mother whose top priority was her baby.
Their approach to parenting often clashed with tradition and mutters of
discontent always nettled her. But they were new parents; she repeated to
herself over and over again they weren’t expected to get everything right the
first time round. It was much easier for her than it was for Harry each fault
of his was blown out of proportion in his eyes because of the Dursley’s.
He wanted to get everything right-the first time round.
Ginny came from possibly the most loving family in the world, she knew how to
love fiercely and she knew how to love tenderly, her very being oozed life. So
naturally, she took the lead when it came to childcare and harry followed it
obligingly. But it was some moments-often when Ginny was sleeping-that he
really felt like he was a good parent.
“Can you get him this time?” Ginny begged, burrowing under
the sheets with a groan.
Barley awake, harry nods at her, shuffling up and crawling
towards the crib on all fours. He doesn’t even have his glasses, but he can
vaguely make out the crying loaf of bread that must be his son.
Sighing, he puts on his glasses and scoops up a howling
James. The baby’s brow is crinkled and his face is tomato red. How such a small
being is able to produce such a loud sound baffles Harry, but he focuses of
calming the baby down.
He jogs up and down in an imitation of Ginny and coos at
James, holding the struggling baby firmly against his chest.
James babbles incoherently, something that sounds like a
repeated chorus of mama; his eyes are open now, peering around for his mama.
“No, not mama, dada,” he articulates the last words clearly,
joggling him up and down some more.
James repeats dada-he’s barley sniffling then.
Harry grins, delighted, and blows a raspberry in James’s
stomach, making him squeal happily.
“Now, where’s that bottle?” Harry says, mostly to himself.
James yawns, still perplexed. He wants his mama to come and
rock him in her soft arms and sing lullabies for him in her throaty voice, but
he contents himself with his Dada rattling of Quiddich stats to him in a
Minutes later, James lips are slack on the bottle and he
settles down to sleep with a contented snore. Light is filtering through the
curtains and Harry realizes with a start that it’s sunrise. He’s bone tired and
about to go to bed when Ginny sits up with a sleepy smile, “well done.”
“Learned from the best,” he admits, easing his way back into
But she’s already sitting up, looking more awake than he’s
felt in days, he watches warily.
“It’s sunset,” she says happily.
Ginny swings her legs out of bed and throws of the covers
with a stubborn expression that only endears him.
“I’m gonna watch it,” she says simply.
He follows begrudgingly, unable to stay away from her.
“This is nice,” she murmurs, laying her hand briefly on his
arm. It’s enough to send tingles through his body.
“It’s nice to have a moment alone without a yelling baby,
not that I think-“ she shushes him.
“Just enjoy the sunset,” she commanded, laying her head on
his shoulder-just barley. they watched the sun rise in silence, drawing breath
at the same time, completely at peace.
“Can you sing me to sleep?” Ginny asked with a yawn.
He found that she didn’t mind him rattling off Quiddich
stats quite as much as James did; she was almost to tired to correct