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Love You Forever | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Lily Potter Genres: Fluff, Drama, General, Crossover Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 12 Summary: A story of the bonds between parent and child, heartfelt traditions, and the rememberence of those who are never truly gone. Hitcount: Story Total: 3869 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: Test Notes |
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Once again, all the characters in this story are the sole property of the brilliant mind of our dear JK Rowling. Yes, I have taken a break from Underestimated Hero, but this is only a one-shot and it helped to clear my head, I promise I’ll update the other story soon. Secondly, the story plot is based on Robert Munsch’s Love You Forever. If you have not read it, go out and buy it, borrow it or steal it (not serious here people), it is a must read. I was read this each and every night by my own mother, so it holds great sentimental value for me. I therefore dedicate to my mother, and similar mothers out there. The story has obviously been modified to fit Lily’s and Harry’s situation. Just know that I followed the writing of the author, I 'm not used to writing in this style. Please enjoy, I know I did writing it! By the way I need someone to edit this story, any volunteers. A mother held her newborn child, entranced by the new life she had created. She stared wistfully down at his already messy hair, something that he had inherited from his father, and his soft, rosy skin. Already she had felt the new bonds of motherhood, and insurmountable love she felt for this child. A smile crept upon her lips as the realization at dawned on her again, this was her child. Very slowly, she rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him she sang: I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be. The child grew, as all children do, especially when you’re not looking. He grew until he reached the age of almost two. The troublesome age of almost two. He ran around house, causing chaos that almost always ensued. He had broken his fathers broom and knocked half the potions from the shelves. He pulled all the food out of the refrigerator and flushed his mother’s wand down the toilet. It was times like these that she would calmly sit down on the couch, place a pillow over her mouth, and scream, “This kid is driving me CRAZY!” But at night, when the almost-two-year old was quiet, she would openthe door to his room, crawl across his floor, looked over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep, she would pick him up and rock him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang: I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be. The troublesome two year old grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he reached the age of nine years old. He grew without love, he grew without parents. Or so the little boy imagined. His mother had passed on, but she had not passed her little boy. She watched from he could not see her, where she desperately needed to see him. She watched where she saw him beaten, starved and enslaved. She watched when he broke his arm and then was sent to the closet. She watched as his self-esteem was battered until it was cracked and broken, just like her heart. Sometimes she wanted to kill her sister, and would have, had she the ability to do so. But at night time, when he was asleep, when he looked the most frail, the mother found herself in his room, appearing beside his bed. If he was really asleep, she would pick him up with her cadaverous hands and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him, in a raspy voice she sang: I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be. The boy grew. He grew and he grew, in more ways the one. Yet his mother still watched him, she would always watch him. He faced friendship and love; that was all to new to him. He faced dangers and hardships, beyond that of a grown man. He sacrificed just like she had for him. He knew heartache and loss, her knowing them in turn. He became that of beyond his years. She was proud, she was always proud. Yet she ached to be there. Sometimes the mother felt like she was dying all over again. But at night, when that teenager was asleep, the mother would appear in his dorm, sit along side his bed and peer over at him. If he was really asleep, she would pick up her not-so-little son, with her spectral hands, and rock him back and forth, back and forth. Back and forth. While she rocked him she sang: I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be. The teenager grew. He grew and he grew, facing more peril as the years wore on. He grew until he became of age, and a man in his mothers eyes; to her he was always a man. He left the school he held so dear, and ventured off, finding his own. He became the man he wanted to be in everyone else’s eyes, it was time he became the man he was in his own eyes. He discovered hurt and pain, like no other, and love beyond all reason. He would become his own man. But sometimes on dark nights, the mother would long to see him, and would travel the lengths of the earth to find him. If the lights in her son’s lodgings were out, she would open his bedroom window, emerge by his bed and look down on him. If he was asleep, truly asleep, she would pick him up and rock him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang: I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be. Well, that mother she got older. She got older and older and older, even in her place she got old. Her son, himself, had gotten older. It was one day when he stumbled upon her old cottage that she had realized her inabilities. He managed to open the door, where the mother was waiting for him. She rocked herself as she began sing: I’ll like for always... She was too old, too heartbroken to sing to him any more. She couldn’t finish her beloved song. The son stood, unknowingly in front of his mother and began to sway. He hummed a tune so familiar to them both. And he sang this song: I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living your baby I’ll be. The mother nodded her head solemnly, feeling both pain and adoration at the same time. Her job was done, her baby was no longer hers, he was a man unto himself. On her way up, she planted a soft kiss on her little boys forehead, and saw him nod in acknowledgement. When the man came home that night, he stood atop the stairs for a long time. His head down until realization came upon him. He wandered the halls, pausing at pictures of himself and Ginny, stopping only at one door; the nursery. He cracked open the door, crawled over to bassinet and peered over at the small figure of his sleeping baby daughter. He picked up her tiny form in his arms and very slowly rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while he rocked her he sang: I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living your baby I’ll be. A.N: Thanks for reading, I hoped you enjoyed, please review. Thanks again! |
| Reviews 12 |
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