Title: Bouncing Baby Boy
By: Amanda
Feedback: sweety167yahoo.ca
Rating: PG
Spoilers: OotP
Disclaimer: All Characters are the property of JK Rowling.
Summary: At the end of July 1980 a baby boy is born.
Completed: February 5, 2005
Notes: Much thanks to IrishLily for her BETA skills and luv!
It's a late summer afternoon, and he's only a few weeks old but he knows.
The sun is filling his chubby little fingers as he reaches for it; it's so warm and bright. And it's his. It covers his crib and it lights the whole room. It's been there the whole time he has, every morning when he wakes up. It washes over him, it covers him and keeps him safe. He can't imagine anything more fulfilling, anything more…happy.
There's warm under him, a fuzzy, soft blanket. It caresses his back every time he moves, basking in the bright warmth over him, circling him in its safety. So warm and there and safe. He rolls over, the soft fuzz tickles his tummy and he smiles. His little fingers reach for the edge of the blanket, rubbing it between his digits and pulling it closer, closer to his mouth. The taste is bad. But it feels safe. No, there would never be anything happier than this.
He rolls back over and the smile fills out his pudgy cheeks. They are the best, they are his happy. Bright smiles and funny faces. Silly voices and gentle cooing. Vanilla scented hugs. Big arms that hold him. They are his safe.
He reaches for them, pulling a large hand down to his little mouth. Better than the blanket. With all the drool and sloppy gums, the hand never pulls back, instead another joins it to caress the side of his cheek. Giving the warm and safe feeling, letting it seep into him. There is nothing more happy than this; his two loving, strong and magical parents.
They sing to him, sweet-sounding lullabies. Songs of magic, loves and victory. Happy songs that made him smile and gurgle. Happy songs he wanted to wrap himself in, he wanted to live in. They tell him daddy's tales about old princes and dragons and large castles. School and friends and families. Jokes, laughter and tears. Battles between Good and Bad, where Good always won and it was bright again in the morning. There was always something worth fighting for and everyone was always safe and happy in the end. The way it should be.
And he is happy. He gives no cries, no fussing and never complains. He sleeps late and eats well. He's like an angel, their chosen child. With his little fingers and his curious eyes. He is happy and warm and safe. There is nothing else he could ever want, and no one else he could ever need. He is loved and kept safe.
Slipping into sleep - his dreams are the mirror image of being awake, all warm and bright and safe - he is sure he will always have the prefect warm life. Everything will be those two parents, that fuzzy blanket and like the ray of sunshine over his crib – bright, warm and safe. And he will be happy.
But the little boy is cursed, somehow prophesised.
Little Neville's life is going to be dark, and lonely.
But right now, it is bright and warm and he is happy. And that is all he ever wants to remember.
End.
Another Note: I think Neville is more important than first suspected. This is just giving some much needed attention to poor, little Neville.