Yellow (George Weasley)

91 - Welcome

I found myself struggling to keep my eyes open, my body nearly numb with an indescribable exhaustion. The only thing that willed me to stay awake was the small bundle the healer was carefully placing in my husband's arms, a soft pink blanket wrapped around it.

I could see George's breath hitch in his throat, his mouth agape as a look of pure adoration struck his features. Tears welled up in his eyes when our baby squirmed in his arms. It looked like he was holding his breath, scared that even his breathing might disturb the most angelic little bundle he had ever seen.

"Congratulations on your beautiful baby girl." Agnes spoke quietly, a smile on her face before she left us.

"She's—she's so perfect." George mumbled as he cradled her in his arms. He carefully brought her over to me and even the sight of her tiny arm peeking out from the blanket had my chest tightening. "Just like her mummy."

Mrs. Weasley nodded towards the door, signaling to her other son with tears in her eyes that they should give the three of us a moment. I was thankful for some time alone with my husband and our daughter and I'm sure she was eager to tell the rest of the family about the newest addition. This is the first time we wouldn't just be husband and wife—we were our own little family.

He slowly set our baby girl down in my arms, letting her rest flush against my chest. She really is perfect. I couldn't help the tears that spilled over as I looked down at what we had made. I can't even comprehend how we could create something this breathtaking.

George's thumb reached out to gently swipe my tears away as they rolled down my cheeks. "You are absolutely brilliant. Look what you did." He gently ran his fingers through my messy hair, burying a kiss in the tangles.

I scooted over slightly, patting the spot next to me so he would join me. "She's already got the Weasley hair." I let out a breathy laugh as my eyes settled on the dusting of bright red hair atop her little head.

"Yeah but she's a spitting image of you, love." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, allowing me to lean into his chest slightly.

The feeling of relaxing in his arms was euphoric after the hours of exertion I'd just endured. For a moment we were just silent, the only sound was the soft humming of the hospital lights. Both of us were trying to memorize every curve of her face. Her long eyelashes and little button nose were mesmerizing. Her skin was soft, her mouth slightly open and her chubby cheek squished against my chest.

"I win by the way." I let my eyes flutter closed as I rest my head against his shoulder.

"What?" He chuckled, briefly tearing his eyes away from our baby girl to look down at me.

"I told you it was a girl." I sleepily taunted.

"Don't rub it in." He groaned. "But I guess George Jr. isn't really a name option anymore."

"For the record that was never an option—but you're right. We will have to call her something at some point." I exhaled. My eyes were growing heavy again, my blinks a bit longer than normal. I continued to fight it off, just wanting to look at every bit of her.

"I think I've got an idea for a middle name." A smile quirked on his lips. "Amelia."

"George." I could feel the tears starting once again. I knew the exhaustion played a role in my influx of emotion, but the thought of my daughter carrying my mother's name was touching—truly the perfect tribute.

"All you've got to do is come up with a first name, darling." He rest his chin on the top of my head. His fingertips lightly rubbing up and down the newborn's back. She stretched slightly under his touch, the cutest noise escaping her lips as she did.