Moving Pictures (G)
“Bedtime, Scorpius.” Harry reached for his son.
“Story!” Scorpius shrieked, dodging.
“Alright,” Harry said gently. “Choose us a story?”
Scorpius toddled over to the shelf, moving past Goodnight, Moon and Nibbles the Niffler, past old textbooks to the bookshelf’s very bottom corner. He tugged at a spine, but it was too heavy to move. He looked back with teary eyes.
“Gentle hands, please. It’s a special book.” Harry crouched, pulling the book and Scorpius into his lap. He ran his finger over the embossed leather cover. Scorpius followed the path with his own sticky finger.
“ Look, but don’t touch, okay Scorp?” He opened to the front page where an infant, held by beaming parents, grins at him through time. “See? That’s me — and your grandparents.” Scorpius looked up at his father and back at the waving baby. “Daddy?”
“That’s right!” They turned through pictures of Harry’s parents and their fallen friends, pictures of a fresh-faced trio in school robes, colorful Christmases at the Burrow. The bittersweet years tugged at Harry’s heart and he hugged his son close.
“Papa!” Scorpius exclaimed at a photo from Harry’s wedding day.
“Yes, your Papa!” Harry pointed. “And Me!”
He turned to the last page of the album: a towheaded baby in his arms, his proud husband beaming beside him.
“Me!” Scorpius whispered.
“Yes,” Harry kissed his head. “You.”