Memories
a Harry Potter story
by Lady_Gallatea_Ravenclaw
Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding world and all that, was walking around the house at 3:00 am, holding an upset six year old boy.
His wife, Ginevra Potter, was on a weeklong training session for St. Mungo's. As part of the higher ranking healers in Britain, she had to do three weeks of work in underprivileged countries, like the Congo. As a result, Harry was in charge of the house and their two children, Brian and Amy.
Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. Both children were well behaved and loved to go to their grandparents' house to visit when Harry had work. Unfortunately, Brian had caught a bad flu from school, and was now at home because of it. Amy, his four year old daughter, was fine, but Harry suspected that she would soon catch what Brian had.
And that's why, at three in the morning, he was carrying a sick little boy, trying to calm him down. The poor child had been running a fever for a while, which made him feel achy, uncomfortable, and cold. Harry had been trying to settle him down, but to no avail. Brian wanted his mummy too; something Harry had no way of getting for him.
It took another hour, but Harry was finally able to calm Brian down enough to lay him in bed. Harry put his son in the master bedroom, next to him, so the boy wouldn't feel so cold and alone; it was also to keep an eye on the child's fever.
Sighing, Harry pulled the sheets over Brian's shivering form and looked at the clock again. Another two hours before he could have more medicine. Harry sighed again and wet a cool cloth, resting it on the boy's forehead.
As Harry repeatedly patted his son's head with the cloth, he let himself slip into a doze, remembering what it was like when he was a child, sick, at the Dursleys....
A small child with untidy black hair and brilliant green eyes walked down the sidewalk towards his aunt and uncle's house. The little boy sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.
It wasn't fair.
Dudley got coddled when he was sick. He got soup, and TV, and games, and attention, and all the sleep he wanted. He got to stay in bed all day and take medicine whenever he felt bad.
But he didn't. He got more chores, more shouts, and more hits from his uncle. It wasn't fair.
The little child sneezed, wiping his nose once again on his sleeve. He didn't even get tissues.
Harry walked up to the house and went inside. He might as well start on that chores list, because the tasks wouldn't do themselves.
Later that night, yells rang out from Number 4 Privet Drive, before a door was slammed. Inside, a thin child was softly crying into his ratty pillow, breaking down from the stress of the day.
He hurt, inside and outside. His head pounded, his eyes felt gritty and sore, his body felt all shaky and weak, and everything felt so heavy, even his head. Every time he coughed his chest and head hurt, his nose wouldn't stop running or stuffing up, and his throat stung! And to top it all off, he felt exhausted from doing all the chores that his uncle had given him. And then, when they were all done, perfectly, his uncle slapped him and sent him to bed without dinner for not washing his office shirt with bleach!
Harry sobbed, his chest catching and his head pounding even more. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair to him. The poor boy relaxed as he stretched out on the tiny cot and slowly fell asleep, his tears drying on his hot face.
Harry remembered what it was like. Doing work, even when he was running a temperature. No medicine. No food. And only slaps and kicks for his efforts.
But looking down at his son, Harry felt all the bitterness of his childhood melt away. His children would never feel that. Even now they said that he was too soft, too overprotective. Harry didn't care. They were safe, and healthy most of the time. That's what mattered.
Harry smoothed Brian's hair back, relishing the cooler forehead his hand met. The fever had gone down, and was nearly broken. Good. Maybe he could get through this week without Amy getting sick too.
He was about to go to sleep when he heard a shuffling of feet come towards the bedroom. Looking up at the door with weary eyes, he saw his four year old come in, tugging her blanket with her, rubbing her nose.
With a slight smile, he picked up his daughter and lay her in bed, rubbing her runny nose for her with a tissue. He gave her some cold medicine and wordlessly rubbed her back in comfort.
Amy fell asleep, cuddling her daddy on his left side, while his still feverish son cuddled him on the right.
Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face.
THE END
A response to Weekly Hatching #107 (Fandom)
Sorry it is so short (and it's taken forever to write). No sneezes, just a whole bunch of fluff. Keep in mind- these are little kids, so I wrote it for a HC or TLC theme. So no perversion here, okay?