Harry Potter: An Alternate Universe

17) Little Ones

Year: Graduated 1998
House: Gryffindor
Gender: F
Love Interest: Harry Potter

No disrespect to Rowling, I'm just changing the kid's names for creative liberties. Enjoy

"Mummy's home!," you shout, kicking off snow from your boots and shaking it off your hood. A little boy with bright green eyes, and your color hair pops up from around the corner, running straight into your arms.

"I love you!," he squeezed in his little baby voice. He was only four, and already picking up on words faster than you can keep up.

"Ah, sweetie."

"Don't...leave...a-gain!," he said in between his panting. You pluck him off the ground and blow raspberries on his cheeks. His squeals until his older sister comes from around the corner. He wiggles in your grasp, and you put him back on the floor.

"Hi, mum," she grumbles. Her voice was course.

"Hi, sweetheart." Seeing your daughter so sick was painful. She'd been suffering from her asthma since the night before, and had been prescribed loads of medication that made her tired and spaced-out. She had your colored eyes and your hair texture, but she wore glasses like her father. Only seven years old, and she already had his distinct features.

"Where is your father?," you asked.

"Upstairs with Abilene." Abilene Luna Potter; the newest addition to your family, a baby girl born a year and a half ago.

"Oh okay. You go lie down until we start decorating the tree. She nodded, disappearing into the living area where her brother played with his toys.

"Theo, be careful with that," her voice croaked, and you go to see what was happening. He was holding a glittering Christmas ornament, starring at it wide-eyed.

"Theo," you scold. He looked at you pleadingly, before placing the ornament back into the chest. He was a lot more agreeing than you anticipated. You heard footsteps coming from down the stairs.

"Dad-ee!," he shouted, throwing his arms in the air with glee. Harry just reached the base of the steps, limping with his sprained ankle, when your son took him by the hand to lead him to where you stood. "I wanna decorate the tree!"

"Alright, alright," he laughed. He let go of his hand, now distracted by his toys again. Harry planted a small kiss on your lips. "How was it?"

"Not as bad as I thought. Just a few stranglers hoping to break into Borgin and Burkes."

"Did you get them?"

"We did. Ron hurt them pretty bad trying to disarm them. Hermione won't be pleased to hear about his suspension."

"Wow, you're joking!," he gasped. The sound of a mischievous giggle turned his attention to the little boy with a glass ornament in his hand. "Theodore Sirius Potter, you put that back right now!" He looked guiltily up at his father, and did as he was told without protest.

"I think we should get started before he decided to break something," you said.

"Yeah, we should."

That evening with your holiday music playing on an old record, you decorated your Christmas tree. Theo would point to an ornament in the box, and your eldest daughter would hang it up on the tree. You or Harry would put the ones higher up where she couldn't reach. Harry also hung up the stockings for the children, each one with their name; Lillian (Lily), Theodore (Theo), Abilene
(Abby).

At one point, Abilene woke up from her nap bawling, and you went to go calm her. You returned downstairs, her cries now tiny whimpers, as your rocked her from side to side. You finished decorating and lighting the tree, and it glistened in every direction. Lillian didn't last much longer, and excused herself to bed first. You and Harry tucked her in, and gave Theo a few more minutes of playtime before doing the same for him.

"I'm not tired," he argued.

"If you don't go to bed, you won't see cousin Hugo or Rose tomorrow." This was reason enough, and he suddenly became less reluctant to go to sleep. After that, the youngest got put back in her crib, and it was just you and Harry. He propped his bad leg up on the couch, and you rested against him. He talked about returning to the Auror's office as soon as the Skele-Gro completely settled in.

"You should've been there," you told him, admiring his rough, callused hand. Your fingers intertwined with his.

"I wish I was."

"The kids needed you here, anyway."

"That's true," he admitted. Music no longer played, and the kids were sound asleep. The silence was as welcoming as home.

Good nights my sleepy children.