Weekly Drabble Challenge - Theme: Parenthood - Results Posted

[mugglemathdork]

Your prompt this week is to write on the general feelings one experiences upon first becoming a parent or grandparent, and the gradual evolutions of those feelings and what the child comes to mean later on in life to the parent or grandparent.

It must be in 1st person.

You may choose from one of the following character’s POV’s ONLY to write about:

Albus Dumbledore’s mum
Augusta Longbottom
Eileen Prince
Mrs. Bones
Mrs. Filch – Yes, Filch’s mum
Abraxas Malfoy
Phineas Nigellus
Dirk Cresswell’s wife
Professor McGonagall’s mum or dad
Avery’s father [I’m referring to the Avery that went to school w/Snape]
Luna Lovegood’s mum
Melania MacMillan

I’m looking for some originality in the drabbles submitted. If you don’t recognize someone above please do your research prior to submission.

The following form must be used when submitting your drabble responses to this post -

[B]Name:[/B]
[B]House:[/B]
[B]Title:[/B]
[B]Warnings:[/B]
[B]Word Count:[/B]
[B]Author's Note:[/B] 

Winners will be awarded 15, 10, and 5 points respectively.
All drabbles must be less than 500 words; All standard grammar rules, and MNFF submissions guidelines apply.

The challenge will be up for a week, and be closed exactly a week later (May 19th)

MithrilQuill and I will be judging them and posting results a couple of days later.

All questions should be referred to the Question Corner #3 - Do not post questions here. Only drabbles!

New for the Weekly Challenges:Due to a major lack of quality drabbles being submitted to the weeklies, Gato Loco will require that some real thoughtful, original submissions be posted from this moment on or you'll end up like this woman here. That's your one and only warning! XD

Other than that...have fun!

~Gato Loco~

[apollo13]

Name: apollo13
House: Slytherin
Title: My beautiful, darling, sweet...
Warnings: Mental Disorders, character death.
Word Count: 404
Authors Note: This is a very symbolic drabble, it's not naturalistic. It is meant to be Kendra's last moments, although I think that in reality she would be more aware of what is going on and she would be a bit more panicked. However, I wanted to show more love than fear, and more sense of "she's my daughter, it doesn't matter if she's dangerous to others, she's not dangerous to me."

My beautiful, darling, sweet baby girl. From the moment she was first laid in my weary arms, still covered in grime from the womb, she was my beautiful, darling, sweet baby girl. A very special girl, I remember saying.

And she was. She had been wrecked, they said. Wrecked and ruined and ravaged by them, those nasty, nasty people. They said that it was terrible, and they would not stop fussing over her, and trying to help her. I knew that she could not be helped. I knew that the moment I saw her, after it happened. A mother can tell. That’s what they say, isn’t it? They said that they would take her to St Mungo’s, and that I would visit her only occasionally. But what good would that do, if she would not get better?

So I hid her. I moved our family to a new, unfamiliar place, far from our beloved home. I hid my beautiful, darling, sweet child from the world, and I hid her knowing that she would never be happy for her entire life. How could she? When I was gone, and when Percival was gone, she would have to rely on her elder brothers to care for her. No man would take her. Oh, what would become of her?

But in hiding her beautiful face, I could help her have a little happiness, even if it were only for a few precious years.

Albus said it was pointless, that she was not happy. Nobody is happy locked up, he said.

But I did not lock her up. I kept her hidden, I kept her safe. There is a difference. And I would not see her taken away from me, not once Percival had gone, and Albus was so far north. Aberforth helped me to take care of her, and what is the harm in that. If the two of us can keep her happy as she is, then there can surely be no harm in keeping things that way.

But what is this now? My beautiful, darling, sweet young woman. Why will she not calm down? I have always managed to calm her before. Why not so today? Why does her magic fly so wild? Why does her hair whip around her face when there is no wind? Why can I feel such intense heat radiating from her unimaginable and fearsome beauty?

My beautiful, darling, sweet killer.

And this is my second one...

Name: apollo13
House: Slytherin
Title: My Severus
Warnings: Tobias is portrayed here as very controlling, almost abusive.
Word Count: 457
Authors Note: Eileen is here quite a typical woman with a controlling husband. She does love Severus, but she is more afraid of angering her husband.

I do wonder, sometimes, why I married Tobias. It is not a happy marriage, but I will not give up because I know he is a good man really. It doesn’t matter that he missed the birth of Severus, because he did have a good reason. Over-night conferences can be a pain, but they do happen.

My Severus. He is a good child, although Tobias doesn’t think so. When he was born, he was a good baby really, but he did cry a lot (I suppose all babies do) and Tobias didn’t like that. It was a pity when he started showing signs of magic, because Tobias made me swear that I wouldn’t give him a strange child, but it looks like I did.

I do love him, Severus, I mean, but marriage is important, and I must keep my marriage going. I mean, children who come from divorced backgrounds never have a good childhood, do they? I mean, you see single mothers, and you always think, “Their children can’t be happy, not without a father.”

And I do want my Severus to be happy. It is hard, of course, especially when Tobias is angry, but everyone gets angry sometimes, and, really, it’s my fault for making him angry.

Privately, I am very proud that my Severus became a Slytherin, but of course I cannot show this, because Tobias is not, and I wouldn’t want to make him angry and upset Severus.

There’s that little girl, too. Lily. Tobias says that Severus shouldn’t bother mixing with those people, because they are richer than us and will probably laugh at us, and then when he found out that she was magical too he disliked her even more. But Severus keeps going out with her. She does seem like a sweet girl. Maybe they will get married, and give us a grandchild, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? I am sure Tobias would like a grandchild.

Now my Severus is becoming a young man, I think that the time when he gives us a grandchild could be even closer, but I regret to say that he has not mentioned and girls. This is not a worry, of course, as he is probably just working on his schoolwork, and girls like intelligent men, so there will be plenty of time for girls and grandchildren in the future.

And it is good that he is becoming a man, because what if Tobias dies and leaves me alone? I would have to rely on my Severus. And if I die, who will look after Tobias, and make sure that his dinner is on the table, and that the house is clean enough for him? Yes, Severus is vital for our future happiness.

Name: apollo13
House: Slytherin
Title: Proud
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 416
Authors Note: Grandma is deliberately spelt wrong when I refer to the drawing.

He started out, I admit, as a big disappointment. After all the talents of his father, this was the talent of my grandson? A drawing of a stick man a wonky arrow with “Gandma” scrawled in barely legible writing?

And where was his magic? The only signs of him possessing any sort of magical ability was him managing to bounce after being hung upside down out of a window, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised if muggle children can do that.

Of course, when he received his Hogwarts letter, I decided that there was some hope for him after all. I presented him with his father’s wand, and he seemed happy. But those hopes were rather quashed when I continually found out about his poor grades in everything except for the two easiest lessons – Charms and Herbology.

I was even more disappointed when I found out that not only would they not allow him to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, but that he would not take part even if he could! Then I found out about Harry Potter, and what he had to go through – the rebirth of Lord Voldemort. Shocking. He is a very brave young man, as I told Neville many times. Although I did not tell Neville, I knew that it could just of easily have been him with the lightning scar, and all I could say was that the world should be grateful that it wasn’t.

But when I found out about everything my grandson had done in his fifth year, and fighting at the Ministry, that was when I can honestly say I became truly proud of him. Of course, there had been moments in the past when I had felt slight pride, such as when he bounced down the garden path and when he got his Hogwarts letter, but this was the first time that I felt my heart truly swell at the thought of everything he had done.

And when I heard that he was fighting alongside Harry Potter at the Battle of Hogwarts, who was I to sit at home and worry. No, I would be fighting alongside my brave grandson, and I did, and what I saw made me more proud than I could possibly imagine.

Well, I thought that was as proud as I could get. But now, as I sit here and watch him say his vows, with his beautiful bride Hannah, I would say that I am the proudest grandmother in the world.

~Evie

[**plotbunnies**]

Name: **plotbunnies**/Anne
House: Hufflepuff!
Title: First Grandchild
Warnings: Some strange Argus Filch
Word Count: 438
Authors Note: This is about Argus Filch's mom, and her first, sweet, darling grandchild...

I was so proud when little Argus gave me my first grandchild.

Granted, it wasn’t how I expected it to happen. But it happened nonetheless.

I’m sitting here rocking the little one in my lap. I rub its cheek gently, careful not to wake it. There is something so relaxed, so trusting in its posture.

Argus walks in. It is the first time I have ever seen him this happy. The usual grimace is gone, to be taken up by the widest grin anyone ever saw.

He was worried. Worried that I wouldn’t accept his child. I think to myself, Why wouldn’t I? It’s a grandchild as much as any another. I am proud.

This is the seventeenth time he has walked in and out in as many minutes. I believe he does not want to wake his child.

This time, I do not let him go. ‘Has anyone called ‘round?’ I ask.

Now he has a slightly demented grin. ‘Plenty,’ he replies quickly enough. ‘None stayed. To be correct, none of them believed.

I tut-tut at the measly group of neighbours we have. Not wanting to see Argus Filch’s child? Or not believing he has one? Of all the insanity!

But then I wonder if they just were just busy. Yes, that must be it! Wizards these days are very busy, anyway. I say as much to Argus.

Again the demented grin. ‘Oh, they weren’t busy. They were disbelievers!’

His voice is growing louder every word he speaks. I send him to his room. At least a grandmother (I puff up my chest at the thought) knows how to take care of a baby.

After half an hour, the little one wakes up, making a small squeaky noise in the process. I coddle it, rub its chin, until it makes contented sounds and swiftly falls asleep.

I move my hand down its back. It is soft.

Argus walks in. After I have told him off sufficiently for leaving his room, he asks for the child.

I answer him that he may, as long as he doesn’t drop it. Laughing (laughing? My son?) he gently picks it up, and promptly pretends to drop it. Joining along, I sentence him a hundred lines that say I promise not to drop the baby in my mother’s house.

At last it is time for them to leave. I wave goodbye, after treating the little one to the softest blanket in England. As Argus walks out the door, his facial features stiffen, and he once more becomes the evil Hogwarts caretaker.

Goodbye, my son Argus. Goodbye, my grandchild Ms. Norris.

[Rushia]

Name: Rushia
House: Ravenclaw
Title: Ruined
Warnings: none
Word Count: 378
Authors Note: This was kinda fun, writing from a character's POV that we only know peripheral things about, and all of it second- or even third-hand.

At last, he was leaving. I watched him get up onto the train, looking back only once, but not at me. I turned away, leaving him to the care of Hogwarts, which would be better than I could ever have provided. But with his departure, there was a chance. Maybe, just maybe, Tobias would love me again. The corner of my mouth pulled in a faint smile at the thought.

Nothing much had gone right ever since I discovered I was pregnant. Glorious hope had blossomed but died as I realised the child would most likely be magical. Tobias had not known, and I had not known how to tell him. I paused and glanced back for a moment, watching the tail end of the scarlet steam engine disappear from the platform. I had loved him, once. That small child I held in my arms for the first time had seemed so beautiful.

The impression did not last very long. We had been less prepared than either of us thought, and Tobias reacted badly to being a father. He turned short-tempered and irritable, finding fault in everything I did and taking every excuse to keep from having to care for Severus.

The arguments began. In hindsight, it was only natural to assume I would say it one day. Merlin knows I had been thinking it for long enough before it came out: “I might’ve known a Muggle would make a terrible father!”

Poor little Severus. When that small, he had no idea why his father hated him so much. I told him about the magical world now that Tobias knew, but perhaps that had been a mistake. Anything to keep him occupied, anything to keep him out of my hair. I was weary, then, weary of this life I had unwittingly led myself into. If I had just stopped loving Tobias, I would be happier. I knew it. But for no one’s sake, least of all my own, could I leave him. What a lovely little picture we had made, a family as still and lifeless as a Muggle photograph.

With Severus gone, he should be happier. Happier if he never came home, most like. So would I. That child had ruined my marriage, my love, my life.

[Calico2]

Name: Calico2
House: Ravenclaw
Title: The Green Hills
Warnings: Character Death
Word Count: 351
Authors Note: This is from the POV of Luna’s mother.

The night she was born I took my little Luna to the top of the green hills. The Healers warned me not to; she was born early, they said, a likely to sicken if I wasn’t careful. They didn’t understand, and neither did Xeno – Xeno, who usually was so good about understanding – but I could tell even then that Luna understood.

I rocked her to the rhythm of the grasses, sang to the sighs of the wind. Above us the moon waxed full, dappling my Luna with silver light. And then, so early, so calmly, she opened those mist-gray eyes. She looked at me, and that was magic. And I knew what it was to love.

Of course I loved my Xeno, but this was different, different in the way of snowflakes. No one love is like another – this I learned atop the hill.

And time passed. I watched her crawl upon the hill, watched her totter and fall, and then suddenly run, leaping like a hare, laughing like something out of faerie, reaching for the birds and the butterflies and the moon. My little Luna.

But I never dreamed of this. I never imagined it could all go so wrong. Now I lay here, fading as the shadows of my failed experiment take me, sapping my strength, and Luna is not so little any more.

“Mama,” she breathes, not even a whisper. Behind her, through the window, I can see the familiar green hills, and the moon. My Luna does not cry, though she squeezes my hand fiercely. I reach up and tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. I look into her eyes, and there it is again – magic.

“Love,” is all I can manage to mutter now. But that is enough. She understands.

The shadows are creeping over my eyes, bringing with them darkness everlasting. Xeno sobs and screams, begs me not to go, but Luna is silent. And as my sight fails I see a new wisdom in her eyes, and feel that she is strong. She will mourn, but never break. Not my little Luna.

[Pinkcess of the Abyss]

Name: Pinkcess of the Abyss
House: Slytherin
Title: Black-Pride
Warnings: None
Word Count: 498
Authors Note: The drabble is from Phineas Nigellus’ POV.
*Sirius is his first born child, named, I assume, for his elder brother who never wed.
*Phineas is his second born child. (I have used create licence with this as Phineas’ date of birth is not mentioned.) He was burned off of the family tapestry for campaigning muggle rights.
And thank you to apollo13 for helping me, you’ve been a great help!

I am firmly of the opinion that all children, no matter their age, should be seen and not heard, and so it is with this sentiment that I now hold a screaming ball of flesh while I glare down at my ecstatic wife. Happy that I am that I have conceived a healthy heir, I still cannot be disposed of to think kindly of this child, at least until it has been taught proper decorum.

As the years go on, I conceive more heirs, more than I would like, but not as many as my wife would wish; four healthy boys and a girl all of whom should hopefully bring me much favour. Each evening at six when the plates from dinner are gone, the nurse-maids bring in my five children to be petted like one does a cat. There can be no other reason for them bringing them, as they offer little conversation and are disagreeable in countenance. During these times I feel it my duty to quiz my children to ensure that they do not grow intolerably stupid; I usually find myself disappointed at their ignorance.

“Tell me, Sirius, how is your Latin?” I ask my eldest. He is fourteen and as handsome a boy as I could wish.

“I can read and write it without a book beside me, father.”

“And you Phineas?”

“As well as Sirius, if not better,” Phineas answers, and I laugh at his arrogance. My two eldest I am disposed of to think of with a warm heart, for I am proud of their achievements and they bring honour to the name of Black. My younger children are yet too stupid to hold even the most droll of conversations, and so I pay them no mind.

“And how do you like Slytherin?” I ask.

“Very well,” Sirius answers, “I have many acquaintances there. I find the second eldest Miss Gamp particularly agreeable. Do you think she the proper sort, father?”

“Very much so; she is from a fine family and I have heard that she is a most handsome young lady. What of you, Phineas? Do you have many acquaintances in Slytherin?”

“I have a tolerable amount, father, and in the other houses also. What think you, father, of me joining the Charms club?”

I smile with pride at my sons, “I think it a splendid idea. Vrsula, my love, send the children to bed; they are noisy and I tire of them. Sirius and Phineas, you shall join your grandfather and I in the drawing room.”

Those days are past; my children are older now. I am proud of all but one-- disgust and disappointment burn in my breast. Phineas is no longer my son. His name shall not be uttered in my presence by any that does not wish to feel my wrath. I do not hate him; I’m disgusted, angered and embarrassed by him, but my love for him does not waver, and that is what sickens me.

My Second Drabble!

Title Tear my Heart Open
Warnings Post Natel Depression and Character Death.
Word Count 473
Authors Note If this style of drabble isn't allowed could someone PM me please and I'll delete it from the post. The layout was designed highlight the state of her mind and confusion, and then how it gradually calms down... But I am aware that it could be concidered poetry. It wasn't originally meant to be like this; it just sort of happened.

The Title is taken from the titles library, but it didn't say who suggested the title, but the post was posted by harry_victoria.

Insistent Screeching, Screaming, Wailing and Crying.
Merlin MAKE it stop!

The parasite.
It’s not real. It’s a parasite. Parasite
_____________________________Parasite.
__________________________________Parasite.

“My dear, perhaps the child wants feeding?”

“I’ll feed it later!”

Oh please make it silent!

___________________Am I wrong?
____________________________________Am I evil?
Why can’t I love it?
_________________________________________________What is wrong with me?

I am evil.
I am a disgusting villain not worthy of children.

“Take it away!”

“Excuse me, Mrs Bones?”

“I SAID TAKE IT AWAY!”

Depression,
They say I’ve got depression,
They say this is normal,
That it is normal for me to hate that child.

But I don’t hate it:
______________I love it,
____________________I love it,
_________________________Why don’t I want it?

It’s presence makes me tremble. My mind explodes: fear.

I fear it.
When it first came from my womb,
They placed it in my arms,
I felt only revulsion.
My first two children were perfect, but this one-- his face is that of a nightmare.
Not yet clean they gave him to me and all I saw was his lip,
That disgusting lip,
Pealed at the sides.
Why can’t I love him?

It was not my son that was the nightmare; it was I.

“Hush little baby don’t say a word,
Daddy’s gonna buy you a mocking bird,”

The warm voice of my husband draws me from my room. I’d locked myself in. Not wanting to face the world-- to show them the picture of my true face.

He sits there, upon the rocking chair by the fire, in his arms lie a tiny bundle: my son. I walk over, entranced by his voice and the bundle in his arms. And I know, that nothing in this world can compare to that beauty.

I kneel at their side, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders as I stare down into my beautiful baby’s face. His lip is healed now, but I wouldn’t have cared--the love I feel for that tiny bundle; it is unimaginable.

I’d die for that child.
I’d kill for that child.

And it lies there, sleeping, so innocent.

“Are you not ill no more?” my beautiful little girl looks up at me. Her hair’s hung in ringlets and her nightdress is stained with supper. I smile.

“No, Amelia, I’m all better now.” I reach out and wrap my arms around her tiny frame and hold her close, and she clings to me, to her mother. Edgar runs over and dives on us making us three, and I laugh like I thought I had forgot.

This is what it means to be a mother.

For I love them,
And I will kill for them,
And I will die for them,
And when I am in heaven, looking down upon them,
At the world that my children live in,
Sweet Merlin: I will cry for them.

[butter_beer_drinker]

Name: butter_beer_drinker
House: Gryffindor
Title: False Smiles
Warnings: detailed pain of child birth
Word Count: 488

I have been working at this for more than thirty-two hours. I have watched my belly writhe with the life that is trying too hard to stay where it is. My hair is matted to my head; my back aches as if a mule has kicked me. My legs are quivering and that part of body, that is foreign to me, burns with pain. I have slipped in out of consciousness and at last the pains are rolling over my body so quickly that the mid-wife has told me to push.

I slip my hands into the straps over the bed, bite down hard on a piece of wood, and push with all I have. At last, the baby wails in protest at being expelled from it’s warm home. Tears slip down my face as I am handed my son, all the pain of the last two days disappears into a tiny corner of my brain. My heart overflows with love as he instinctively roots across my chest and latches on for his first meal, my toes curl at the unexpected pain, but his rhythmic suckling dulls it too, I sigh in contentment.

My worst fears have been confirmed, eleven years ago I gave birth to a Squib. There will be no letter from Hogwarts and I try to hide my disappointment. I will continue loving him, he is my only child, but it will be difficult. He is an abomination of nature, something to be hidden away in our house until he is old enough to survive on his own. What will I tell my friends? I am so ashamed.

My hands have stated to ache from wringing them, at last the door to my home opens and he returns. Disgust fills every fiber of my body as I gaze out of my portrait. All that hard work so many years ago, all that love, wasted. I pretend to be asleep as Argus returns from yet another year as a subordinate being inside the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. I roll my eyes at the mere sight of that horrid cat; it too is a freak of nature. Dumbledore is truly a saint to allow him to ‘work’ there. What kind of work is there at a magic school, for someone with no magic?

He stops and taps the edged of my frame, trying to awaken me. I reluctantly open my eyes and give him a false smile. I detest him, but he will never know it, he is still my son. I gird myself for the endless hours of him that I will endure for the next two months, hoping that I can maintain my sanity as he drones on about being a caretaker. What is he caring for anyway? He hates those wonderful, magical children. Jealousy has a strange way of manifesting itself, and Argus will forever live with it.

Why does he torture himself so?

[Azhure]

Name: Azhure
House: Ravenclaw
Author's Note: Ok, I wrote two stories for this challenge and I decided to submit both.

Title: As Good as Dead
Warnings: Mental Disorders (more implied then anything, but it is there).
Word Count: 464

My son is as good as dead.

When I heard about the news, I just couldn’t believe it. All I could think was that it must be someone else’s child the lying on the hospital bed, in a coma; it must be someone else’s grief floating around the room. Not mine.

They said that there was only a slim chance that he would ever be the same man again. I held onto that chance. He wouldn’t let me down, not his own mother.

A simple letter was sent to my home. It said that he had woken, but not the condition he had woken up in. Naturally, I rushed off to the hospital. If something was wrong they would’ve told me in the letter, right? Wrong.

I sprinted to his room, ignoring the patients and Healers staring after me. No one mattered more then him.

I saw his wife first; their beds were separated by a thin cotton curtain. Alice was once beautiful, not anymore; her skin was now almost translucent and huge bags hung under her hazel eyes. Alice would never again laugh with unbridled happiness; she would never walk down to the local Muggle shops to buy milk; and she definitely wouldn’t be able to enter her own house that she shared with her husband again. Alice would be in this hospital for the rest of her life.

She was as good as dead.

Ripping the curtain to the side, I finally got to see my son. He was as pale and as sickly as his wife, with one bonus; he was awake.

“F-Frank?” I had asked quietly. There was no answer. “Frank, dear?” He remained silent, his brown eyes staring towards the ceiling. I gently touched his forehead, his eyes moved from contemplating the ceiling, to my face. There was barely any recognition in his eyes.

I felt like screaming. How could they do this to him? What could they have wanted from my son and his wife that badly?

I could still feel his eyes on me.

“Oh Frank, how could they ever do this to you?” I wailed. He didn’t seem to notice my distress because his eyes slid back towards the ceiling.

It was at that precise moment that I remembered Neville; my grandson. Where was he? I couldn’t see him in any of the other beds. That must mean that he hadn’t been at home when the Death Eaters had come. Oh pray that they didn’t get him too.

I would find Neville, I told myself determinedly. I would find him and care for him as best I could. It would be hard, he was so young, but I could do it!

I left that hospital with a mission: Look after my grandson.

Do it for Frank.

My second drabble:

Title: I Shouldn't Be a Father
Warnings:None
Word Count: 338

The first week was terrifying...

We weren’t prepared for a squalling baby. Nine months was not enough time to get ready for a new member to our family.

The second week was horrendous...

My dear Minerva was sick. Vomit, tears, and an even worse mess. I was not supposed to be a father, that’s all that circulated through my head. I was not supposed to be a father.

My wife was frantically running around, barely out of hospital and already she had overdone the amount of exercise that was supposed to be doing this soon after the birth.

The third week was nightmarish...

Crying baby, hysterical wife and terrified father. I had half a mind to up and leave, but I could never really do that. I got close a few times, but I never could leave.

The fourth week…I can’t remember...

A blur of anguish, pain, frustration and more tears. One good thing came out of this blur of a week though; my wife agreed that I shouldn’t be a father.

The fifth week was…better...

Minerva was finally asleep, my wife was able to rest and I was able to think. I could feel my sanity come back to me, one trickle at a time.

The sixth week was bearable...

My wife and I had finally come up with a schedule. I would look after the baby every night that I didn’t have work, and my wife would do the rest.

The seventh week was relaxing...

Minerva was growing before my eyes. I actually looked forward to seeing her after work. I actually enjoyed playing with her, feeding her. The one thing I didn’t like was…well…I guess you know. Just think of what every father dreads…Luckily, my wife had that covered.

It was going to be hard, painful. But I was ready, my little Minerva was going to grow up and become the best person she could be. Nothing would stop her, not if I had anything to do with it.

I am ready to be a father.

Sorry the second one is so short.

~~Azhure~~

[mudbloodproud]

Name:mudbloodproud
House:Hufflepuff
Title: Looking Through The Window
Warnings: none
Word Count: 500
Authors Note: I chose to go with a different look on seeing your child giving birth. The window she looks through is the archway in the Department of Mysteries. I chose Lunna's mum for this piece.

Hurrying down the hall, I hope I am not too late. As I approach the plain white door, it opens silently by itself. I rush to the window and look out on the scene unfolding before me. The view is slightly out of focus, like looking through a curtain or a wedding veil.

I can hear my daughter laughing. She was laughing of all things. Just then, a redheaded woman dressed in the robes of a Healer rushed through the door. Though the voices a muffled as if they were underwater, after all these years, I can make out every word.

“I thought we agreed you would not travel until after the babies were born?” the redheaded woman scolded my daughter. “And why Romania of all places?”

“Ginny, we just couldn’t miss this chance. When your brother sent us an owl about the new creature he found, we had to come. It’s what we do.” my daughter softly replied in her singsong voice.

“I will deal with my brother once your babies are born. Now, how far apart are your contractions?”

“They are pretty close together. They are getting a bit uncomfortable, though. I guess that is normal?” my daughter quietly asked.

“Yes, that is normal. Let me examine you and we will take it from there.” Ginny moved closer to the bed.

As I watch the Healer examining my daughter, I think back over the times I stood here and watched other events of my daughter’s life.

I think of the day she received her letter from Hogwarts and her first day at Hogwarts. How proud I was when she was sorted into Ravenclaw. I worried she would not have many friends. I worried her personality would make her the joke of the school. It seemed for the first few years those worries were not unfounded.

This changed however when in her fifth year she joined Dumbledore’s Army. I will admit to heart wrenching fear as I watched her in the fight with the Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic.

Then the night the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts. She fought bravely even though the odds were once again against them. Then there was the Battle of Hogwarts a year later. I will admit to that being the scariest moment as a mother I have ever had.

Raised voices interrupt my thoughts of the past. My son-in-law is obviously not happy with the pain my daughter is in.

Smiling, I once again think back to another moment in my daughter’s life. I think about her wedding day. Who but my daughter would get married in a field filled with gnomes?

I bring myself back to the scene before me and not a moment too soon. I watch as my twin grandsons are born.

With tears streaming down my face, I realize though I may be dead, this is not only the proudest moment of my life, but also the happiest. My only wish is that I could be there.

[botheringsnape]

Name: botheringsnape/Ashley
House: Slytherin
Title: Silver Eyes
Warnings: Character Death
Word Count: 381
Authors Note: I chose to write about Luna's mother, who only thought of Luna as she died...

Looking into Luna’s silver eyes, I can see every joyous moment of my life. It seems like only yesterday that I first saw her beautiful eyes, curiously staring out at the world. She brought happiness into my life.

I remember watching her crawl for the first time, exploring her growing world. The curiosity in her eyes grew as she did. Time moved on, and I watched her take her first steps into the world.

I remember when I walked down the road with her to visit the young Weasley children. She paired with the young redheaded girl; I watched her eyes light up with joy as they discovered the life of the meadow together. They shared a bond that I knew would last a lifetime.

I remember how she would draw for me, making wonderful paintings of what she saw through those silvery eyes. Luna painted the colors of the world onto paper.

It was through these drawings that Luna showed her magic for the first time. When she was only six, Luna began to draw a picture. It transformed over time; she turned it into a picture of my mother, who had died when I was thirteen. I realized then that my Luna had extraordinary magic. She could look deep inside me and bring out images that I wouldn’t even let myself remember.

Luna has been watching me fade for a long time now. I know she can see the darkness overtaking me. But now, a new drawing gives me hope. It shows her older self, surrounded by friends, smiling and happy.

The silence between us now expresses more than words alone could express. She grips my hand tightly as I breathe what we both know are my final breaths. I take one final look, deep into her penetrating silvery gray eyes, and one last glimmer of joy warms my heart. I know that she will live life to the fullest. She is stronger than I ever was. She gives a small, sad smile as my eyelids droop. The warmth of her hand grows as I feel the heat of my own fade.

I will watch her from afar, just as I have before. She will grow and she will change, but her silver eyes will always be the same…