100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,621
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,621
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Birth
Title: Birth
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble, Fluff
Warnings: None
Summary: #29 – Birth. He had forgotten everything he had read in the baby books.
Word Count: 1,002 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by donquixote17.
Prompt 29 – Birth
Draco Malfoy had no clue as to what ‘Ben & Jerry’s’ was, nor what ‘Glastonberry’ was other than a town in Somerset. All the same, he was scouring London for a pint of ice cream, hoping that he had enough Muggle money.
Apparently, he was told, that the flavour of ice cream was a limited edition, and that after five shops: Glastonbury—the first place he tried—Brighton, Bristol, Oxford, and Salisbury, that he would have better luck in London. Draco Malfoy kept looking at his watch, he had been gone from the Manor for an hour and half.
Finally, in London, he procured three pints—just to be on the safe side—of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Glastonberry’ vanilla ice cream with fudge brownie bits and raspberry swirl. When he was safe from the notice of Muggles, he cast a stasis Charm to keep the ice cream cold before Apparating back to Wiltshire.
His mother had told him not long after his wife became pregnant that strange things happen to a woman’s body whilst carrying a child. Besides the obvious physical aspects, Narcissa Malfoy used her pregnancy with Draco as an example.
“I had your father Portkeying back and forth to a cousin’s in Orleans for crème brûlée four times a week. If it wasn’t that, it was saltwater taffy from the States. Pregnant women, some, not all, get cravings for certain foods. My mother craved coconut and pickles, together, and I hate both foods”
Draco understood the ‘craving foods’ part, but he did not understand, and could not abide the mood swings in his wife.
It seemed that in her later months, his wife had grown exceptionally strong, and better skilled with aiming books to a point in the centre of his forehead.
Walking up the stairs of the Manor, Draco rubbed the goose egg sized knot that magic could not hide or heal. It was only less than week until term, and he wondered if he would be able to present a normal face to his newborn child.
“Two hours! I had almost decided I wanted something else!”
Hermione Malfoy Summoned a large spoon and immediately began eating her ice cream as soon as it was in her hands. Sitting in bed, having been confined for the past week, Hermione did not care if bits of chocolate brownie accidentally fell upon the fine cotton sheets on her distended belly.
Draco kicked off his dragon hide boots and fell into bed beside his wife, watching her in the candlelight as she ate, quickly at first, then slowing to relish the taste.
Occasionally, Hermione offered Draco a bit, whom, considering himself lucky not to have an edge of a book sticking out of his skull, ate the sweet concoction. He was surprised, it was quite good.
When the first pint was gone, Hermione opened the second, eating slower, licking the bowl of the spoon clean with the tip of her tongue. Draco watched, enthralled. His wife glowed with an internal golden light, her skin, and her hair like something out of a hazy, lovely dream. He scooted closer to her, fitting himself against her side.
“This will probably be the last time for late night quests for ice cream. After the baby is born, no more fattening, sugary foods,” Hermione announced dropping the spoon in the second empty pint.
“As you wish.”
Hermione gasped the spoon, and with a huff, smacked the bowl of the spoon painfully against the knot on Draco’s forehead causing him to swear.
The last pint was left in stasis for the night.
And by the next night Hermione was cursing Draco Malfoy in three languages.
Draco could hear her voice from the foyer, as loud as it was. Draco sat demurely on a bench along the entryway, watching Lucius pace maniacally as if it were his child being born. There were several more gentlemen waiting in the foyer as well—Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom—all Hermione’s friends. All Draco had was his father and a very inebriated Blaise Zabini leaning against him, agreeing with every word Hermione screamed from the floors above.
Narcissa was upstairs with the Healers and Molly Weasley—a woman who had popped out enough children to know what to do in matters of childbirth. Draco bristled at the thought of his Hermione turning into someone like Molly Weasley. Perhaps two children would be enough, he thought.
There were more screams, and then silence. Draco stiffened.
Only the night before, Draco had been on a quest for ice cream, not because Hermione threatened to throw a larger book at his head, but because Draco would do anything to see his wife happy. But as the silence seemed to stretch on and on, the fear of losing her and the child, a fear he had had for many months, loomed over him.
“A boy!” a female voice that sounded very much like Narcissa Malfoy’s called down the stairs.
“A boy!” Harry Potter shouted…
The words were echoed through the Manor, and Draco felt claps on his shoulder, but he ignored them and as rose from the bench, upsetting a laughing Zabini, bushing past his nearly hysterical father, and ran for the stairs. He had not heard a cry—he had not heard Hermione’s voice.
Bursting into the birthing room, Draco flew to his wife who was laughing tiredly at the sight of her disheveled husband.
The baby was small and pink, and as Draco held the little bald boy, he barely knew what to do. Even with all the books Hermione had made him read about babies, he could not remember a single word. All Draco Malfoy knew as he stared down at his son, and then to his wife at his side, was love—pure, true love.
“Now it will be questing all over the world for the perfect toy instead of ice cream,” Hermione murmured as Draco pressed a kiss into her sweaty brow as together they stared at their child.
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble, Fluff
Warnings: None
Summary: #29 – Birth. He had forgotten everything he had read in the baby books.
Word Count: 1,002 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by donquixote17.
Prompt 29 – Birth
Draco Malfoy had no clue as to what ‘Ben & Jerry’s’ was, nor what ‘Glastonberry’ was other than a town in Somerset. All the same, he was scouring London for a pint of ice cream, hoping that he had enough Muggle money.
Apparently, he was told, that the flavour of ice cream was a limited edition, and that after five shops: Glastonbury—the first place he tried—Brighton, Bristol, Oxford, and Salisbury, that he would have better luck in London. Draco Malfoy kept looking at his watch, he had been gone from the Manor for an hour and half.
Finally, in London, he procured three pints—just to be on the safe side—of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Glastonberry’ vanilla ice cream with fudge brownie bits and raspberry swirl. When he was safe from the notice of Muggles, he cast a stasis Charm to keep the ice cream cold before Apparating back to Wiltshire.
His mother had told him not long after his wife became pregnant that strange things happen to a woman’s body whilst carrying a child. Besides the obvious physical aspects, Narcissa Malfoy used her pregnancy with Draco as an example.
“I had your father Portkeying back and forth to a cousin’s in Orleans for crème brûlée four times a week. If it wasn’t that, it was saltwater taffy from the States. Pregnant women, some, not all, get cravings for certain foods. My mother craved coconut and pickles, together, and I hate both foods”
Draco understood the ‘craving foods’ part, but he did not understand, and could not abide the mood swings in his wife.
It seemed that in her later months, his wife had grown exceptionally strong, and better skilled with aiming books to a point in the centre of his forehead.
Walking up the stairs of the Manor, Draco rubbed the goose egg sized knot that magic could not hide or heal. It was only less than week until term, and he wondered if he would be able to present a normal face to his newborn child.
“Two hours! I had almost decided I wanted something else!”
Hermione Malfoy Summoned a large spoon and immediately began eating her ice cream as soon as it was in her hands. Sitting in bed, having been confined for the past week, Hermione did not care if bits of chocolate brownie accidentally fell upon the fine cotton sheets on her distended belly.
Draco kicked off his dragon hide boots and fell into bed beside his wife, watching her in the candlelight as she ate, quickly at first, then slowing to relish the taste.
Occasionally, Hermione offered Draco a bit, whom, considering himself lucky not to have an edge of a book sticking out of his skull, ate the sweet concoction. He was surprised, it was quite good.
When the first pint was gone, Hermione opened the second, eating slower, licking the bowl of the spoon clean with the tip of her tongue. Draco watched, enthralled. His wife glowed with an internal golden light, her skin, and her hair like something out of a hazy, lovely dream. He scooted closer to her, fitting himself against her side.
“This will probably be the last time for late night quests for ice cream. After the baby is born, no more fattening, sugary foods,” Hermione announced dropping the spoon in the second empty pint.
“As you wish.”
Hermione gasped the spoon, and with a huff, smacked the bowl of the spoon painfully against the knot on Draco’s forehead causing him to swear.
The last pint was left in stasis for the night.
And by the next night Hermione was cursing Draco Malfoy in three languages.
Draco could hear her voice from the foyer, as loud as it was. Draco sat demurely on a bench along the entryway, watching Lucius pace maniacally as if it were his child being born. There were several more gentlemen waiting in the foyer as well—Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom—all Hermione’s friends. All Draco had was his father and a very inebriated Blaise Zabini leaning against him, agreeing with every word Hermione screamed from the floors above.
Narcissa was upstairs with the Healers and Molly Weasley—a woman who had popped out enough children to know what to do in matters of childbirth. Draco bristled at the thought of his Hermione turning into someone like Molly Weasley. Perhaps two children would be enough, he thought.
There were more screams, and then silence. Draco stiffened.
Only the night before, Draco had been on a quest for ice cream, not because Hermione threatened to throw a larger book at his head, but because Draco would do anything to see his wife happy. But as the silence seemed to stretch on and on, the fear of losing her and the child, a fear he had had for many months, loomed over him.
“A boy!” a female voice that sounded very much like Narcissa Malfoy’s called down the stairs.
“A boy!” Harry Potter shouted…
The words were echoed through the Manor, and Draco felt claps on his shoulder, but he ignored them and as rose from the bench, upsetting a laughing Zabini, bushing past his nearly hysterical father, and ran for the stairs. He had not heard a cry—he had not heard Hermione’s voice.
Bursting into the birthing room, Draco flew to his wife who was laughing tiredly at the sight of her disheveled husband.
The baby was small and pink, and as Draco held the little bald boy, he barely knew what to do. Even with all the books Hermione had made him read about babies, he could not remember a single word. All Draco Malfoy knew as he stared down at his son, and then to his wife at his side, was love—pure, true love.
“Now it will be questing all over the world for the perfect toy instead of ice cream,” Hermione murmured as Draco pressed a kiss into her sweaty brow as together they stared at their child.