Harry Potter Oneshots

Little One

word count: 1,134

You smile as you watch George interact with the students of Hogwarts who arrived at Diagon Alley early. He laughs, showing the kids the best prank inventions to use of teachers, classmates, and poor Filch. Once he helps the kids check out, he walks over to you and places a kiss on your forehead.

"This is your last calm week before the rage of back to school shopping," you remind him. Instead of groaning like most store owners would, he beams.

"I know! Isn't it great? Do you think Harry and Ginny will bring James by?" He wraps an arm around your waist and you watch as the last of the kids file out of the store. A store clerk locks up before bidding us a farewell.

"I'm sure they will."

"Are you excited to see Harry again?" George asks. You smile softly.

"Of course. Being Head Auror, as he so often reminds me, is a 'taxing job and comes with little free time,'" you mock. George barks out a laugh at your imitation. "Plus, he can't keep me away from my nephew for long. I have a kid to spoil." You're quiet for a moment, looking over the shop. "Hey, Georgie?"

"Yes, darling, sugarplum, light of my life?" he asks. You roll your eyes.

"Have you ever thought about having kids?" He freezes for a moment, caught off guard by your question. Merlin, even you're caught off guard by your question. "Sorry, forget I said anything." He turns you to him. You keep your eyes cast downward, fiddling with your wedding ring.

You and George have been married for five years. You got married six months after the battle of Hogwarts. Losing Fred changed him, as it would change anyone. Since then, he's determined to live his life to the fullest, and apparently that included marrying you.

"Freddie would've hexed me if I had waited another day," he laughed.

And so five years later, you help him run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in the summer before returning to your position as the Head Healer at Hogwarts.

"Hey, look at me," he whispers. He places his fingers under your chin, lifting your chin to look at him. For once, his humorous spark isn't in sight. All that's there is love and adoration. "Of course I've thought about having kids." A smile forms on your face, his soon matching yours.

"Well, that's a relief," you breathe. The usual spark returns and you swallow.

"Why don't we start now, hm? They say it's good to practice before trying for conception." You giggle.

"Who says that?"

"Me," he grins, cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours. He pulls on the hem of your shirt and you chuckle.

"Not in the store, George." He pulls away, you pout on his lips.

"Why not? We only live above the store." You shake your head.

"Well, we should walk up the stairs and to our bedroom before we do so." He sighs and lifts you up. You let out a surprised squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep yourself from falling. He squeezes your butt and you smack his shoulder. "Wait, George. You still act like a horny teenager."

"Only for you, love," he grins. You make it up the stairs in no time. George walks us to oyur shared bedroom in record time, gently laying you on the bed. He hovers over you, his eyes roaming your body. You blush, becoming shy.

"What?"

"You're stunning. Absolutely beautiful. I am so lucky," he whispers. You bite your lip, amazed that you managed to land such an amazing, funny, gorgeous man.

"I'm the lucky one," you assure. He grins and kisses you again, this time more passionately.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips.

"I love you more."

"Impossible," he replies immediately. He tugs at the hem of your shirt once again but you stop him reluctantly. Instead of looking annoyed, his eyes portray concern. "Are you okay? You're acting odd. You're usually as ready as I am," he jokes. You roll out from under you and he lets you.

"Nothings wrong," you lie. You stand and fiddle with your ring again.

"You're a terrible liar, love," he laughs. You look up, your eyebrows furrowed.

"I am not!" you defend.

"Yes, you are. You play with your ring when you're hiding something." You sigh and plop down on the side of the bed. He scoots onto the floor and kneels in front of you, placing his hands on yours. "(Y/N), look at me." You do, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. "Hey, hey, stop that!"

"I'm sorry. I just- I don't know how to tell you. We shouldn't... we shouldn't try for a baby," you whisper. He grips your hands, making you look at him again.

"There's no rush, honey. No rush at all. We don't even have to have kids—"

"We shouldn't try for a baby because I'm already carrying one." He stops rambling, looking at you with wide eyes.

"You're what?" he whispers. Tears spring to your eyes.

"I'm pregnant." He yanks you up, gently, and spins you around. You laugh, now crying. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head.

"Oh, Merlin. You're pregnant. We're going to be parents!"

"In four months." His eyes widen and he lifts up your shirt.

"Four months? Holy shit, (Y/N)! How did you hide that? You look at most two months! You've been hiding that under jumpers. How have you been stealing my jumpers without me noticing?" he asks. You blush.

"You're not very perceptive, my love, and I love you for that. The women in my family are known to have small baby bumps. The doctor says it's completely normal," you assure. Tears fall from his eyes and you wipe them away gently. 

"Any other surprises," he jokes, his voice cracking.

"How do you feel about the name Fred?" He pulls away before bursting into tears. You hug him tightly, swaying back and forth.

"A boy?" he asks once he's calm enough to speak. You nod.

"A boy," you confirm, tears dripping onto Fred's chest. "If this boy is anywhere near as tall as you, I'll be even more intimidated," you joke. You sway in comfortable, electrifying silence for a moment.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, darling, sugarplum, light of my life?" you quote. He chuckles and kisses the tip of your nose.

"Fred is a great name."

˚*̥❀*̥˚

You're just a small bump unborn

In four months, you're brought to life

You might be left with my hair

But you'll have your mother's eyes

— Small Bump by Ed Sheeran —