Short, I know, blah blah blah. I just didn't feel like this tender little scene worked being combined with others or lengthed. Enjoy!
Gryffindors were known for their boldness and bravery, and if anyone deserved to wear their brilliant scarlet and gold, it was James Potter.
However, he wasn't feeling very brave right now.
He was shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation that had charged him like a Shocking Spell. There was no way this could be real—but it was—so very real—
The smiling mediwitch placed a hand on the doorknob to the room where Lily was.
"Is she okay?" James asked anxiously.
The mediwitch's smile softened. "She's fine, and so is your son—a beautiful baby boy."
She opened the door and James followed her, in a daze.
His eyes were drawn to Lily first. Her dark red hair was tied neatly back from her face, which, though exhausted and bearing a sheen of sweat, was glowing with happiness. James ran over to her and knelt next to the bed.
"Hey, Lils, how you doing?"
She smiled—a mix of fatigue and joy. "Well, frankly, most of it was awful, but…"
She glanced down at the blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. James' throat went dry.
Oh, Merlin. That's my son.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently brushed a sweaty lock of red hair away from his wife's face.
"Here," she said with a smile. "You want to hold him?"
James opened his mouth but his throat wasn't working. He swallowed and tried again. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. In fact, he wanted that little bundle of blankets in his arms more than anything in the world.
The mediwitch gently picked up the little bundle and placed it in James' arms.
"Harry, right?" she asked fondly.
James met Lily's eye. "Yeah," he said.
That's perfect.
James looked down at Harry's little face and felt tears stinging his eyes and fogging up his glasses. The little baby boy had a fuzz of black hair that was already going every which way like his father's, but James' gaze was drawn to his eyes. They were just like Lily's—the same shape, the same brilliant, emerald green.
He blinked rapidly to keep tears from sliding down his face.
"Hi, Harry," he whispered. "I'm your dad. That beautiful lady over there—that's your mommy, see? You got her pretty eyes, Harry. And we're gonna take care of you. We'll get you your own little broomstick and I'll teach you about Quidditch. Your mommy's amazing, you'll see—she'll teach about magic, and potions, and she'll keep trying to make your hair stay in place, but it'll still be messy like mine. We're gonna fight to protect you from this war, okay? We won't let anyone hurt you."
Lily leaned over and kissed her son's forehead. He cooed curiously.
"That's right, Harry," she said softly. "I'm your mama, sweet boy."
"Don't worry," said James, in the same soft whisper, his breath brushing against his little son's baby-soft skin. "We're making a better world for you to grow up in...Harry Potter."