My baby, my baby, oh my baby
Harry is the cutest thing in all of existance, absolutely adorable.
She is sitting across the little boy in their living room, a few pieces of paper she skillfully transfigured into colorful blocks between them.
"What are you trying to build, hm?" She asks soflty, when Harry tries to build them into a tower. He is shacky and unsteady, only getting about half of the blocks into formation before the other hand ruins all his process, taking it down again.
His surprised "Oh!" Is the cutest thing she has ever heard. A rattle is laid next to her as she watches him babble, trying to make the tower even taller. But of course, he knocks it off again.
He understands almost nothing from what she gathered and she tries to keep him this small. Originally, she planned to make him a toddler, four or five years old, but infant range seems to be the right call.
Time to introduce his new way of taking on meals.
"Harry." She calls, but he ignores her, babbling and slobbering all about his blocks. So she takes out the rattle and shakes it real hard, causing him to turn towards her.
"Buh!" He makes grabby hands at the toy and she smiles, pleased. He really is so young, she loves him so much.
Slowly, he crawls over her, easily distracted again by his tower falling again. One of the blocks hit him in the arm and it startles a shocked cry out of him. No longer wanting to delay this, she rushes towards him and with a weight loss spell, takes him into her arms, bouncing him all the while.
"Shhhh, Harry, all alright." She whispers to him, soft and quiet. A hand under his bottom confirms him to have wet himself, but that is a boundary she isn't willing to breach without his consent, so with a small cleaning spell mixed in with a drying one makes a very clean and still slightly whimpering baby.
She sits on the couch, still rocking him back and forth, when she leads him across her lap, his glasses digging into her chest and in his face. She softly takes them off and drags her finger from his forehead towards the tip of his nose. Almost immediately, he calms down, so she grabs the bottle she has held hidden behind her back and holds it up to his lips, not stopping her finger-movement.
He tries grabbing it out of her hands, but she doesn't let him, holding it out of his range and tutting in displeasure.
She lowers it back to his lips, but he doesn't seem to understand how to use it anyways, so she squeezes hard enough for the liquid to leak out. He startles hard enough at that, she SEES the way his eyes take on more of a clarity note.
Harry is ripping himself out of headspace, but she doesn't want that yet, so she uses the rattle, helping him associate the sound with LittleTime.
It works, just as she predicted. He reaches for the rattle, sucking obediently on the bottle.
She loves him, big or small, but she really really needs him like this for a little while. He is so precious and she just wants to consume him whole, hold him in her belly like all mothers do for a while. Experience motherhood in all it's shapes and forms.
He is the only child she will ever have.
She got herself tested at St. Mungos after the war and just like she predicted, she is absolutely barren. Infertile. Incapable of giving Ron children of their own.
That's when her plan started forming.
Well, no, her plan started forming after meeting "baby Harry" for the first time. It was after Ron left them and he had another nightmare. He woke up, crying and completely inconsolable, he couldn't even form words. He clung to her like a leech that night and after she held him all night, he fell asleep sucking on the tip of his thumb. That was some sort of religious experience, holding the hero of the Wizard World in her arms, begging to be held and to be protected. It changed her whole brain chemistry.
It changed the way she saw Harry and herself. She will be his shield and his blanket, his sword and his comfort, his any and everything. She will make him hers.
His eyelids are closing longer and longer, so she starts soflty rocking from side to side, holding his head carefully in her hands. A melody comes to mind, but she can't remember all the lyrics. Yet, for him, she will try.
"Hush, little baby, dry those tears,
Mama is going to take away those fears
And if you still feel so down,
Mama is going to turn around that frown.
Hush, little baby, in the crib you lay,
Mama isn't going to let you get away.
And if you want to go and leave,
Mama has a few tricks up her sleeve."