A collection of 300-word drabbles revolving around Harry and Ginny's lives when their kids are very young.
I hope you enjoy!
"No, Albus, it's okay," Harry groaned, picking up the small boy. His mouth was open in a little pink "o," and he was wailing loudly. Tears trickled from eyelids that were squeezed shut.
"Hey, hey," Harry said to the baby, rocking him lightly. "Shh. You'll be okay." Albus had tripped, falling into the corner of a low table, and a bruise was already forming on his arm. Still, Harry suspected that Albus was more startled than hurt.
Albus didn't stop crying, and Harry shouted, "Ginny!"
"Harry, quiet!" Ginny exclaimed, walking in. Her belly preceded her, round with their unborn daughter. "I finally got James to bed."
She looked at still-crying Albus, coming over to stroke his dark hair. "I can take him."
Harry handed over the two-year-old, who wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and buried his face in her shoulder. He stopped crying almost immediately, sniffling loudly.
"Wow," Harry mumbled. "Somebody has the magic touch."
Ginny rolled her eyes at his terrible joke. "I'll go put him to bed."
"Good idea," Harry responded. He sat down on the living room sofa, letting his head fall back onto the cushions. Being a parent was so exhausting.
When Ginny came in, she sat down beside Harry. He slung an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him. Soon, they were both asleep.
Harry awoke to small fingers poking his leg. He looked down to see that James had gotten out of bed, his hair untidy and sticking up in the back. Harry smiled a little and stood up carefully, so that he didn't disturb Ginny. He knew that she was exhausted.
"You hungry?" he whispered to James.
James nodded, so Harry took him into the kitchen. "Don't tell Mummy," he said, "but if you want, you can have a little bit of treacle tart for a special treat."
James beamed. "Yeah!"