darth_stitch | Ficlet: In honor of Harry and Kat's birthdays...

Heh. I thought I wasn't going to be able to manage one today. But the Plot Tiggers came a'calling.

As usual, expect Teh Fluff. Because I'm still much too fragile for Teh AAAAAHHHNGST. Not that I actually have much of that in this lunatic ficverse of mine but still... *sheepish grin*

Birth Day
by Darth Stitch

DISCLAIMER: Well, if the Potterverse were actually mine, I'd guess I'd have drowned the population in fluff right about now. *snorfles* Fortunately, I'm just borrowing them. Mweh. The kids and the lunatic ideas are the only things I own here.

***

Harry believes that the infant he now holds in his arms was conceived on Severus' birthday.

It is a silly romantic notion, one that his husband had scoffed at, deriding it as "maudlin and sentimental." And Harry, despite recent events, is not a woman whose fertile times are governed by the waxing and waning of the moon.

Harry remembers the fierce, sharp ache that he felt when Hermione and Ron proudly announced the impending arrival of their firstborn. And now, in the space of this quiet moment that is well-earned after the trials of this particular day, Harry admits that he has indulged himself in imagining of a child of his and Severus' own blood. A little girl whose features would be a pleasant mixture of their own, with perhaps Harry's boundless curiousity and Severus' keen intelligence. A cunning little kitten who would twist both of her fathers 'round her dainty fingers.

Harry admits to the dream and the wish, made in secret, against all logic and sense and hope. Now, he ruefully reflects, he really should have known better. The question is raised, in the dry, droll tones of his husband's voice: Was not Harry Potter's life often filled enough with the impossible and the improbable, not to mention the utterly absurd?

And so here he is, a man, who against all the laws of nature, conceived a child. Magic, of course, they have told him - the obvious explanation, both simple and infinitely complex in itself. Magic, the power that Harry posesses in abundance far more than other wizards and witches in their world.

Harry remembers the course of his pregnancy, the changes that his body had made to nurture and bear a child to term. He ruefully recounts morning sickness, mood swings that swung him from blissful serenity to crankiness and short temper.

And oh yes, the cravings for strange foods that befuddled his already bemused mate, who quickly indulged them anyway. Not to mention the fainting fits that had plagued him in the first few months, where he, to his utter mortification, would sometimes swoon away in the middle of lecturing a class.

He wasn't a bloody girl, even if he DID get pregnant! Harry had wrathfully thought at the time, even as Severus worried over him in typical fashion, arguing mightily with Madam Pomfrey over Harry's condition.

Harry spares a tender glance for his husband now, who is curled up on the bed beside him, in an exhausted slumber. Madam Pomfrey had not the heart to order Severus out of the Infirmary, not that Severus would have obeyed her in the first place. Not that Harry is complaining - Severus is exactly where he wanted and needed to be.

The child in his arms makes a soft sound and Harry turns his attention to her. They have already chosen a name for her - Katerina. It sounded right. The second name would come later but for now, this little girl was Katerina.

Harry studies her tiny flushed face, tracing a finger down one delicate cheek. He fancies that there is something of his mother Lily in her, from what he has seen in the photos he possesses. Harry takes the time to again wonder at ten tiny little fingers and ten tiny little toes. So utterly perfect.

So all right, Harry knows he was being sappy...well, damn it, right now, they both had a right to be.

Every year, for as long as he could remember, Harry was always awake at midnight for his own birthday. Just himself, with a make-believe cake and candles, or maybe a bit of bread he'd managed to take away from the Dursleys when he was a boy. With the Dursleys long behind him, Harry's birthdays are considerably happier, with this particular one the happiest of all.

But he had still observed that midnight tradition, although for this birthday, that had been derailed by labor pains, announcing Katerina's entry into the world.

Well, it is now late in the evening of July 31st and Harry takes the time to say the words now, to her and to himself. It was still his birthday, well, now their birthday after all.

"Happy birthday," he says softly.

Katerina coos in return.

"She definitely has your eyes," Severus murmurs, startling Harry, who is so engrossed in their new little daughter, that he does not notice Severus waking and sitting up beside him.

"Happy birthday to you too, Severus," Harry tells him.

Severus arches a brow. "If I recall correctly, it is your birth day, not mine."

"Consider it a belated greeting," Harry informs him with a sunny grin. "After all," he hefts the baby ever so slightly in his arms, "your present took a while in getting here. Nine months, in fact. Sorry."

"And that is still the most preposterous, most maudlin sentiment I have ever heard," Severus asserts. "How are you so sure she was conceived on my birthday?"

"Call it a father's intuition," Harry smirks and then laughs softly at the disgruntled look on his husband's face.

"Ridiculous brat," Severus retorts and then, carefully mindful of the baby in Harry's arms, leans forward to steal a kiss. And when they are done, both just a little bit breathless but definitely pleased, Severus' lips are curved in a secret little smile and Harry knows that maudlin or not, his husband really is pleased at the notion.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Severus tells him then. And Katerina chooses to again join the conversation with another soft coo.

"Wants to have her own say in things, doesn't she?" Harry wryly observes. "Takes after you, I think."

"Of course," Severus manages to preen. "It's a far better thing for her to inherit my intelligence instead of my nose. She's a fortunate child."

"I don't know," Harry tells him. "I rather like your nose."

"You are still utterly daft."

Harry lets it go. But in the back of his mind, he pictures a little boy this time, with his eyes and his husband's rather distinctive nose. And perhaps the same, forbidding scowl and sharp wit. The notion is amusing and ludicrous, not to mention terrifying, as he'd just given birth. But it holds a decided appeal.

Harry laughs silently and turns his attention back to his husband and their newborn baby daughter, carefully tucking away that dream, that wish, for another time.

-end-

AAAAAH!!! FLUFF!!!! *giggles*

Again, to Harry and Kat - Happy Birthday!

Current Mood: giggly
Current Music: You're Not Alone - Escaflowne the movie OST