James Sirius Potter crossed his arms grumpily, sticking his lower lip out in a pout that normally had his parents running to fetch him what he wanted. He waited expectantly for either Harry or Ginny Potter to pick him up and ask him the matter, cooing over him like they always did.
But they didn’t.
James scuffed his shiny black trainers with flashing lights against the smooth white floor and sighed loudly, hoping to catch Harry’s attention. His father was sat in a metal chair nearby with his head in his hands and breathing deeply, a sign above him marked with symbols that James couldn‘t read, but looked a bit like ‘St Mungo‘s Maternity Waiting Room’. Beside him, Albus Potter was playing with a set of magical bubbles that glowed different colours of the rainbow.
Shaking his head at his little brother in a superior fashion, James stared around the rather plain room. It was full of a lot of men like his father. Some had children his own age, looking equally bored. Some were pacing up and down the aisles between the rows of white metal seats and some were even saying naughty words under their breath.
“Daddy…” James whined, unable to put up with the boredom any longer. “Daddy, I want to go home.”
He stared at his father in stunned silence for a moment. Never, in his four years of life, had his father ever directly refused him something. “Daddy!” he protested and tugged at his father’s sleeve. “I want to go home!”
“No!” his father snapped, and James’s eyes filled with tears. He was good at putting on the waterworks if he felt it would get him something he wanted.
“I w-want my Mummy,” he hic-cupped, eyeing his father hopefully, to see if the jealousy card had worked.
“Then you’ll just have to wait here,” Harry told him, temporarily raising his head from his hands to look his son in the eye.
When James went silent for a moment, Harry heaved an internal sigh of relief that his son had stopped his whining -
No such luck, then.
“I want to see Mummy, and I want to go home, and I want to have a chocolate-banana-fudge ice cream and never ever ever go to bed!” his son declared loudly to the rest of the waiting room. A few panicking men glared at the little boy in annoyance that he was disrupting their last few minutes of freedom.
“James, be quiet!” Harry ordered the four-year-old, who glared at him mutinously. “Go play with your brother, for Godric’s sake, and stop pestering me!”
Glowering at his dad, James didn’t move from his spot in the middle of the waiting room. A passing Healer nearly tripped over him as she passed.
“James Sirius Potter, behave!”
Pausing to shoot one more dose of puppy-dog eyes at his father, James unwillingly crossed the waiting room to sit down beside his brother, who was still happily attempting to catch bubbles on his short two-year-old legs. He caught a green bubble and it popped in a shower of magical fireworks that left both children in awe.
“Again, again!” Albus cheered and James picked up the bottle of magical bubble mixture and blew a cloud of bubbles into the air. His little brother gave a yell of delight that had most of the waiting room staring at them once again, and they set off to hunt them down.
James drew his imaginary wand and began jabbing at the bubbles with it, imagining streams of every colour flying from his finger tips and causing the bubbles to explode. He imagined his mere presence caused them to pop and would leave him the clear victor of the War Against Bubbles.
As the last bubble popped and his haze of giddy happiness faded, he performed a victory dance which Harry noticed with a wry smile from where he sat, awaiting the news from the Healers. The rest of the Weasley family waited elsewhere in the hospital - only immediate family was allowed into the waiting room, and Harry temporarily wished for someone else to relieve him of the two monsters - ahem, children - he had in his care.
Albus plopped himself down very helpfully in the middle of the Waiting Room, and James joined him. “Me likes the gween ones,” he announced to all who surrounded him.
James regarded his brother with something akin to disgust. “Green is a horrible colour!” he said in shock, momentarily forgetting it was the colour of his father and brother’s eyes.
“Me also likes the lellow,” Albus said with a giggle. “You like lellow?”
“No,” James replied confidently and strongly. “My favourite colour is…is…”
He couldn’t think of anything.
“DADDY!” he yelled at the top of his voice, and this time every head in the waiting room at St. Mungo’s turned to look at him. Harry sighed out loud, unwilling to admit that the two troublemakers were in fact his own flesh and blood, and then reluctantly got to his feet and walked over to his sons.
“Yes, James?” he said, a hint of irritation in his tone. The little boy really knew how to wind his father up.
“What’s my favourite colour?” The pout on James’s face made him look angelic - his black hair stuck out like a dark halo around his sweet face and his mother’s brown eyes stared pleadingly up at his father.
But Harry was rather too stressed to fall for his son’s charms, and simply said shortly, “Your favourite colour is red.” He picked up Albus, who whined loudly at him, and stomped back to his seat in the corner of the waiting room, attempting to ignore all of the half-irritated, half-amused glances he was receiving from others.
James stared after his father in shock. “That’s…red is a girl colour!” he said, his angelic face suddenly horrified. “I hate red!”
“I don’t care!” came his father’s surprisingly childish response, which made a few of the stressed-out men laugh against their will.
“James Sirius Potter!” Harry yelled, goaded past his endurance. Albus clapped his hands in glee as his father advanced on his older brother. “Will you please just shut up! Your mother is in that room right now, having - ”
“I HATE RED!” the oldest Potter child shouted in an attempt to try and distract his father while he made a quick getaway. He began to run, but his little legs were no use against his father’s much longer limbs - he was scooped up easily by Harry, who couldn’t help but smile at how his son had distracted him from the major issue of the day.
Speaking of issues - James was now roaring to be released or else he would ‘get his army of teenage mutant ninja centaurs to kick butt’. Harry turned his son around and frowned at him. “Has Aunt Hermione been letting you watch those muggle cartoons again?”
“Gween! Look! Daddy, it’s gween!” Distracted from interrogating his eldest son, Harry suddenly realised with a thrill of dread that he’d left the younger boy behind, and Albus had somehow gotten hold of his wand.
“Albus!” he yelled desperately, not caring about the scene he was causing in the middle of the waiting area, most of whom were witnesses to Harry Potter’s latest fight for survival - against two under-fives. “Put my wand down now!”
The two-year-old was currently pointing his stolen wand at a man who was so absorbed in his own impending doom that he hadn’t noticed that a very lethal toddler was aiming a wand at him. Nor had he noticed that his skin was turning green, or his clothing. And not just a pale tint of green - no, Albus was making this man turn into a shade of emerald green that made James want to gag.
“Mr. Potter?” a Healer stuck her head into the waiting room and bravely entered the room as a delighted two-year-old continued to turn a man green, his father tried to wrestle the wand off him without being noticed by the green victim, and a half-forgotten four-year old screamed about not knowing what his favourite colour was. “Uh…your wife will see you and the little devil - um, boys, now.”
There was a sigh of relief from the waiting occupants of the room as Harry Potter grabbed Albus and nearly sprinted from the room, an indignant James trailing after him, still complaining about colours.
They walked through the corridors, the Healer sending worried glances towards the two young boys who were such a handful, and silently wishing she had earplugs to drown out James’s incessant whining. “Mrs. Potter is just through there,” she said thankfully as they reached the room, and after gesturing at a door to a private room, walked away as fast as she could.
“DADDY!” James yelled and fastened his arms around his father’s leg. Harry forged on grimly as Albus giggled in his arms and James was dragged along the floor and into Ginny’s room. “WHY DON’T I LIKE PURPLE?”
Slightly flushed with colour and in a hospital gown, Ginny eyed both her sons apprehensively. James in particular was a mess - while Harry had wrestled Albus for control of the wand, he’d been hit by the spell and was now bleached a pale green. All three had unruly hair and Harry looked like he’d been through the war against Voldemort at least twenty times.
“James, let go of your father’s leg. Harry, put Albus down. Albus, just go and play with the jigsaws in that corner, okay?” she ordered calmly, and the three most important men in her life jumped to obey immediately. Ginny turned to her husband with an amused smirk on her face. “So, the maternity waiting room was peaceful, then?”
Harry shrugged the question away, and instead leant over the cot that stood beside Ginny’s bed. James tugged impatiently on his father’s trouser leg to try and understand what he was looking at. “It’s a girl?” Harry said softly, a smile breaking out over his stressed face. “She’s so beautiful.”
“I was thinking we could call her Lily,” Ginny suggested and saw her husband’s eyes light up at the suggestion. “And Luna is going to be the godmother, so I was thinking about Lily Luna Potter. What do you think?”
Harry was about to reply when he was interrupted by his demanding son. “Mummy, who is Lily?” he asked sweetly, and Harry clenched his fists at the angelic smile on James’s face.
“Lily is your new sister,” Ginny explained, and signalled to Harry to lift James up onto the bed. “Now, she’s quite little and a bit red, so - ”
“Don’t like red,” James muttered. Ginny gave Harry a quizzical look, and he simply mouthed the words ‘Tell you later’.
“Do you want to hold her?”
Crossing his arms, James nodded excitedly and settled down on Ginny’s lap. Harry picked up the bundle of blankets from the cot and stared at them for a moment, before handing it to his wife, who carefully placed the baby in James’s arms.
“See, she’s very small - ”
But James wasn’t listening to his parents talking. All he could see when he looked down at the baby girl was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her delicate features, her perfectly defined little fingers that clenched over his tightly, her sweet o-shaped mouth as she yawned and opened her eyes.
And he knew immediately what his favourite colour was. Not red, not green.
But the beautiful sky-blue of his sister’s eyes.
Thanks for reading! I hope you like it, and please review!
I've written a sequal (sorta) to this, called 'Cowboys and Indians'. It's basically more Potter children fluff, so if you like this, you might want to read that too. There's also another story to add to my little collection called 'Moral Support'coming out soon, so again, feel free to check that out ;)
Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story! It made me so happy to see all the reviews! ^^