Sing Me A Lullaby
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, (unfortunately), the great J.K. Rowling does.
A/N: I know I haven't written anything in a while and I'm *so* sorry… Chapter 13 of HWGAA is still coming around, slowly, also because I recently (okay, like a month ago) finished reading OotP and I'm still doing some changes accordingly, and college has been extremely difficult… I've barely had time to write anything, aside from this little thingie that came to me last night in a bit of inspiration… It *is* a side story to HWGAA, but it can be read on its own… on with the fic…
The beaming moon cast a soft ribbon of light through the window and onto the bed, covering the snoring figure in his slumber; she snuck in, keeping herself as quiet as possible as she crept up to him, stroking his face lovingly, coaxing him awake from his dream world.
Harry stirred a little and shifted, rolling over onto his side and reaching out to bring his wife closer, but his hand met cold air as it swung on an arc and hit the empty spot next to him on the bed.
His eyes fluttered slowly open and he rubbed tiredly at them before sitting up and squinting in the darkness for her; he called out a sleepy "Hermione?" and, receiving no response, he yawned and stretched, feeling around for his glasses on the nightstand to his right.
He got up then, still somewhat asleep, and took a step forward-only to crash promptly into the night table with his leg.
Harry yelped, falling back on the bed and holding his shin on his hands as zillions of tiny red stars exploded before his eyes and he bit down tightly on his bottom lip to stop the chain of curses that were about to unleash from his mouth. The pain subsided after a moment, though still latent, and he groaned, wide awake now and sure that there would be a bruise next morning for his trouble-and Hermione's amusement.
He got back up, grumpy and edgy, and limped ungracefully towards the bathroom, opening the door and popping his head in.
No one.
Frowning, he turned around, went back past the bed to the door and walked out into the darkened hallway, where he noticed two things, the first being a feeble yellow light coming from a door ajar at the far end, where the nursery was. He also thought he heard humming and, confused, yet more than a little intrigued, he crept up slowly to the door, making sure not to utter a sound in fear of being discovered.
As he got closer the light melody grew more distinctive, and when he peeked in he felt his throat go dry, eyes watering, a sweet white heat building in his heart and spreading in his chest, unable to contain the feelings of joy at the sight before him.
For he had never seen anything as beautiful as what was inside that room.
Hermione, clad only in an old tee-shirt of his and fluffy pink slippers, was standing right at the middle of the nursery, cradling a tiny bundle to her chest as she rocked slowly from side to side in tune with her humming, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail, rosy cheeks and full lips and the look of utter love and adoration as she gazed down at their baby daughter completing the image of perfection that would forever stay imprinted to his heart.
'An angel holding an angel…'
Isabel Potter had come kicking and screaming into their lives only two nights prior, on their second wedding anniversary, and Harry could scarcely believe his luck at being blessed with 'his girls', as he liked to call them; when his wife had first told him she was pregnant he'd been so ecstatic he'd cried, and he'd been so protective of her during the following eight months that Hermione had become annoyed with him on more than occasion.
Hers hadn't been an easy pregnancy; on the contrary, she'd been so sick most of the time that Harry had had to quit his job for a while to take care of her, and she had come very close to losing the baby. It had been difficult, but they'd pulled through, and they'd been rewarded with a beautiful, healthy little girl whom they both loved very much.
And yet, up until now it hadn't really kicked in that he was… well, a father.
He had known, of course, and he'd proudly show off Hermione's rounded belly to anyone he'd encounter, but it all had been so intangible, so ethereal… like something he'd dreamed of for so long that when he finally had it he just couldn't grasp it as real.
But it was real.
Seeing her standing there in her sleep wear, doing something as trivial-yet incredibly sweet-as singing Isabel a lullaby was so real, and it hit him like a thousand bricks that he had a family and that he was responsible for them.
It both thrilled and terrified him.
Before him Hermione was still singing, having added lyrics to her melody, and had apparently not noticed him standing there. Smiling, Harry pushed the rest of the door open and walked over to her.
She looked up, face aglow with happiness, and gave him a dazzling smile as he stopped in front of her.
"Has it sunk in yet?" she asked in a whisper, earning a chuckle and a nod from him.
She knew him all too well.
Hermione looked back down, Harry following her gaze to the sleeping baby's face; she had yet to open her eyes so they didn't know what color they were, but he hoped they were Hermione's chocolate brown. He knew she hoped they were green like his.
"Isn't she beautiful?"
Harry smiled wistfully at the question.
"As beautiful as her mother." He was rewarded with a sweet smile that was full of love. "I love you…"
"I love you too, Harry…"
And for the first time, as he beheld their little miracle between them, Harry Potter was truly happy to be The-Boy-Who-Lived.
END