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A Drabble by The Red Haired One
Authors Notes: This is once again, a drabble. A fluffy drabble. A something I wrote one day before falling alseep on my bed because I'm getting used to summer break. Enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Alas, I stole the disclaimer from Fiction Alley. Can I come up with anything on my own? This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Dedication: To PC, which is a name that only two people who read this story will understrand. And no, PC is not a computer.
The scars were a pale red color, bright against his skin, reading clearly as if they had been made yesterday. You could almost make out the shape of the tree branch in the scars. She sighed as he shifted, making a mumbling noise. She pushed back a bit of his hair, a touch meant to be caring, only made him scrunch his nose and turn.
She reached up and turned the light off and rested her back on the overstuffed sofa. A bit of the stuffing was starting to come out, and she gently picked at it, causing some to fall to the floor. He snuggled deeper into her lap, and she pulled the blanket further up on his shoulder.
Harry Potter walked in his front door to see his wife brushing hair off their son's face, as she herself fell into the clutches of sleep. Harry smiled, amused that they had stayed up for him—or tried to. He'd been away on a trip with Ron for the past week, and was supposed to get home sooner then he did. He smiled again, as his wife yawned, and her head dropped to the side, her hair obscuring her face as their son whimpered.
Quick to react, Harry swiftly walked over to him, and gently picked him up, placing his head on his shoulder. The faint mumbling of "Daddy?" could be heard, but Harry gently shushed him, and walked towards his son's bedroom, which he shared with Arnold, the pigmy puff. Harry took the blanket off his son, and placed it on the side of the crib, and gently placed his son in his crib, and laid the red and gold blanket on him. A creak by the door startled him
Ginny stood by the door, her hair mussed, sleep prevalent in her eyes. "You didn't have to put him to bed."
Harry shook his head. "No, I wanted to."
She smiled, and went up to him and hugged him, "Welcome home," she said softly, breathing in his scent. "I'm glad your home."
Harry smiled as he brought her closer. "Me too," he said. She let go, and looked at their son. "Hayden's so big now," Harry said, ruffling his hair.
"Yeah," she agreed, rubbing her stomach. Harry continued to marvel at his son, and Ginny smiled tenderly. Maybe she'd tell him about the next one on the way tomorrow. She was a little tired now.