Post by yourmirroroferised on Jan 4, 2007 11:40:26 GMT -5
I posted this one on FF.net all ready, but here's this cute little oneshot for you to enjoy. My first fic ever!
He was perfect. Tiny, but perfect.
This newest Dumbledore had been on this earth less than one day, and, all ready, Albus could tell he was going to be incredibly powerful.
But for now, he was just a tiny baby in his mother’s arms. The Little One yawned as his eyelids were slowly enchanted closer together by the peaceful melody his mother was singing. When his eyes finally surrendered, Minerva reluctantly pulled her eyes from the bundle of perfection in her weary arms. Her face shone with the joy of new motherhood as she smiled at the man next to her on the bed.
Her husband, her protector, the father of this wonderful Christmas gift, Albus Dumbledore tentatively pulled her closer. It had been an interesting day. Minerva woke him up at three o’clock this morning with her tossing and turning. Their treasure was on its way. By four, Poppy had been sent for, and Albus was, to Minerva’s dismay, all ready pacing. By lunch time, Minerva was tired beyond her wildest dreams, and Poppy and Albus were not far behind. Finally at 2:56 p.m. the newest Dumbledore had made his appearance in the world.
How appropriate, thought Albus, our first child sent to us as a Christmas present.
The fire was jumping merrily between the logs, as Albus leaned in to whisper in Minerva’s ear, “You’re incredible, do you know that?”
She beamed, turning up to his awed face, “But none of this would have happened without you, Albus.”
He bent a little further to kiss her, then as he sat up joked, “I know, you only reminded me, every few minutes while you were in labor, and as I recall, you threatened to send me to Limbo if I so much as looked at you again.”
Minerva laughed softly, remember her words. They sat together, for quite some time, simply enjoying the radiance that was their new son.
“He’s so perfect, Albus.” Minerva voiced what she had known from the moment she found out she was pregnant. “What are we going to name him?”
“Ares, my dear,” Albus replied, “but what for a middle name?”
“We could name him after you,” Minerva suggested.
“Yes, but who on earth would want that many names?”
“All right, how about Alfric?” Minerva optioned.
“Ares Alfric Dumbledore…I could get used to saying that.” Albus mused.
“Oh, yes,” Minerva sighed jubilantly, wearily, but jubilantly, “and you will have to use it often. You can all ready see it in his eyes, which are the exact shade of blue yours are, by the way dear. He’s going to be a prankster.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he has such a loving caring mother to raise him,” Albus grinned.
“It’s a good thing his father is a legilimens, because if he has even half my cunning, and half your imagination, there’s no telling what kind of trouble he’ll be causing.”
“I can hardly wait.” Albus breathed, as he leaned back into the pillows.
“Happy Christmas, Albus.” Minerva managed, before she followed her son into slumber.
“Happy Christmas, Minerva.” Albus murmured, treasuring the sight of two beautiful faces sleeping peacefully beside him in the last traces of the fire. Ares Alfric Dumbledore was, indeed, perfect.
He was perfect. Tiny, but perfect.
This newest Dumbledore had been on this earth less than one day, and, all ready, Albus could tell he was going to be incredibly powerful.
But for now, he was just a tiny baby in his mother’s arms. The Little One yawned as his eyelids were slowly enchanted closer together by the peaceful melody his mother was singing. When his eyes finally surrendered, Minerva reluctantly pulled her eyes from the bundle of perfection in her weary arms. Her face shone with the joy of new motherhood as she smiled at the man next to her on the bed.
Her husband, her protector, the father of this wonderful Christmas gift, Albus Dumbledore tentatively pulled her closer. It had been an interesting day. Minerva woke him up at three o’clock this morning with her tossing and turning. Their treasure was on its way. By four, Poppy had been sent for, and Albus was, to Minerva’s dismay, all ready pacing. By lunch time, Minerva was tired beyond her wildest dreams, and Poppy and Albus were not far behind. Finally at 2:56 p.m. the newest Dumbledore had made his appearance in the world.
How appropriate, thought Albus, our first child sent to us as a Christmas present.
The fire was jumping merrily between the logs, as Albus leaned in to whisper in Minerva’s ear, “You’re incredible, do you know that?”
She beamed, turning up to his awed face, “But none of this would have happened without you, Albus.”
He bent a little further to kiss her, then as he sat up joked, “I know, you only reminded me, every few minutes while you were in labor, and as I recall, you threatened to send me to Limbo if I so much as looked at you again.”
Minerva laughed softly, remember her words. They sat together, for quite some time, simply enjoying the radiance that was their new son.
“He’s so perfect, Albus.” Minerva voiced what she had known from the moment she found out she was pregnant. “What are we going to name him?”
“Ares, my dear,” Albus replied, “but what for a middle name?”
“We could name him after you,” Minerva suggested.
“Yes, but who on earth would want that many names?”
“All right, how about Alfric?” Minerva optioned.
“Ares Alfric Dumbledore…I could get used to saying that.” Albus mused.
“Oh, yes,” Minerva sighed jubilantly, wearily, but jubilantly, “and you will have to use it often. You can all ready see it in his eyes, which are the exact shade of blue yours are, by the way dear. He’s going to be a prankster.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he has such a loving caring mother to raise him,” Albus grinned.
“It’s a good thing his father is a legilimens, because if he has even half my cunning, and half your imagination, there’s no telling what kind of trouble he’ll be causing.”
“I can hardly wait.” Albus breathed, as he leaned back into the pillows.
“Happy Christmas, Albus.” Minerva managed, before she followed her son into slumber.
“Happy Christmas, Minerva.” Albus murmured, treasuring the sight of two beautiful faces sleeping peacefully beside him in the last traces of the fire. Ares Alfric Dumbledore was, indeed, perfect.
