Here's another short one shot. i thought of this when i saw a picture of a man with black hair and glasses, helplessly looking at a baby. and i saw his expression, and wow... the men have this different connection, one that they feel they need to create, because it's already naturally there for the mother. so why not write about it with my favourite family? especially since the potters only have one child.
so yeah.... review.....
The small child in James's hands was filling him with a warmth, a certain weight that he was relieved he had. The boy was no more than ten pounds; eleven at the most. Lily was asleep next to him on the bed. She was sweating, strands of her red hair stuck to her forehead in the shape of lightning bolts.
This must be what it felt like.
What family felt like.
His father must have felt this when he was born.
James could feel Harry's heart in the back of his head against James's palm, the tiny baby wrapped tightly up in the white blanket, slightly stained with Lily's blood. It was a life. He was a life. A life pounding in his hands, one that he, James, had created, pushing his genes forward into time, as if he would live forever.
Lily stirred next to him, drearily opening her eyes, clenching and unclenching her hands.
"My baby," she mumbled.
"He's right here, sweetheart," whispered James, gently laying Harry into Lily's arms. She unconsciously smiled, clutching the life closer to her chest. She had gone through so much in the past twelve hours. James was proud of her. After twelve painful hours of screaming and pushing (and a short trip to the emergency room to get James's hand fixed from Lily squeezing it so hard), this little baby boy had emerged. This child who would grow to be a man, just like him.
He would go to Hogwarts.
He would be the best student, valedictorian.
And James would be there, to witness it all, as Harry's father.
The two loves of his life, breathing in harmony were right next to him in the sickeningly white hospital bed at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Lily, with her dark, thick red hair, clutching Harry like he was all that she had in the world.
Harry, who looked so like his own father. The tuft of black hair upon his head was ruffled with each breath Lily took.
James smiled.
And like a veil being removed from his view, James realized what life was. It was the creation of this child before him.
Harry James Potter.
Closing his eyes, James lay his head down next to Lily's and gently stroked Harry's hair.
"You'll be as great as your father, Mr Potter," he said, and fell asleep, his back twisted with his feet on the ground and his torso on the bed, one arm around Harry and the other around Lily, craning his neck so each breath blew lightly into Lily's hair.
He couldn't say it was comfortable, but it was the best night he ever had.