A.N: Written for the Hunger Games Challenge with the Prompt: Annie Cresta – write about Frank & Alice Longbottom.
I couldn't believe how beautiful she was.
Her short brown hair, matted with sweat; her cheeks flushed pink; her eyes bright and watery with happiness; her skin patchy in places. She was sobbing, but a huge grin was spread across her face.
So beautiful.
She looked up at me, slightly breathless, and held out one shaking hand. The other arm cradled him, our son, Neville – who was fresh from her womb, wrapped up hastily in a fluffy white towel, his round face cleared.
His eyes were closed and his tiny fists were balled and held under his chin. He was perfect, immaculate, wonderful in every little way. I couldn't believe that we could have created something so magnificent. "Alice," I whispered, as I took her free hand and moved closer to the side of her labour bed. "He's perfect."
"Neville," Alice murmured, looking back down at our son. "Our baby, Neville."
I looked at them together; Neville was now clutching at his mother's forefinger, his little mouth opening and closing. A great surge of happiness overwhelmed me – my brain swap around in the fog of joy; I felt as though I was floating on air. I had my family – my beautiful wife, my perfect new-born son. I had everything a man could ever want.
What could possibly go wrong?