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Of Lions And Lambs - Part Four	By : Marblez Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9326 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Twilight and I will not make any profit from writing this story.

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Chapter Nine

            Harry woke suddenly and unexpectedly, throwing the covers aside as he bolted up from the bed, his body was consumed by the need to check on his child.
            His mate merely groaned in his sleep, rolling over to face away from him.
            “Lumos!”
            Stumbling across the room by the light of his wand the young wizard peered down into the antique crib Esme had produced from nowhere when the family had arrived to stay with them, finding his adopted son sleeping soundly with one arm curled up beside his head whilst sucking on the thumb of his other hand.
            Teddy was all right.
            His body sagging with relief Harry turned to make his way back to bed before he registered that his body was still feeling that sixth-sense like feeling that somewhere near by a child needed him.
            Frowning he went to the door and gently pulled it open, interrupting the silencing spell that he had placed upon the room after their arrival.
            As soon as he did so his ears were assaulted by the unhappy screams of a newborn child, a sound that he was all too familiar with even though Teddy had been slightly older when he’d taken him in.
            Pulling the door closed behind him so as not to disturb his family still sleeping soundly Harry began making his way down the stairs towards the screaming.
            “Nox.”
            Stepping into the kitchen he spotted the problem immediately.
            Hurrying across the room Harry found himself snatching the crying baby out of Rosalie’s arms before either of them really knew what was going on, his hands automatically cradling the unhappy child against his chest.
            “Wha–”
            “You were tipping her back too much,” Harry explained breathlessly, his body trembling thanks to the rush of adrenaline. “She was starting to choke.”
            “But she wouldn’t drink…”
            Rosalie sounded more exasperated than angry.
            Holding out his hand for the bottle he noticed straight away what was wrong.
            “It’s too hot,” he announced with the confidence of a parent as his hand closed around the overly hot bottle of milk. “Did you let the water cool down before you mixed up the formula?”
            “No, I…I put it in the microwave…” Rosalie admitted somewhat defensively.
            Harry sighed, smiling across at the flustered vampire.
            “First time parent mistake,” he announced. “Been there, done that.”
            “I thought…”
            “Lesson Number One – Never heat the formula in the microwave,” Harry announced as he made his way over to the sink and expertly emptied the bottle whilst still holding the grizzling baby against his chest. “Not only can that kill important vitamins and minerals they can heat food to dangerously hot levels, which is what’s happened here, and can also create what are known as hot spots which you might not detect while testing the milk but will burn the baby mouth and throat.”
            Rosalie blinked in surprise at the unexpected lecture but made no move to stop him as he set the used bottle aside and crossed the room to take a fresh one from the cupboard, knowing that they had all been properly sterilised by Esme.
            “Lesson Number Two – Sterilize the bottles before the first use and after that always make sure to thoroughly clean them between each feeding. That includes the lids and the nipples,” Harry continued calmly as he moved over to the kettle and flicked the switch to get it going. “Now the best way to prepare formula is to use a kettle to boil the water. Another option is boiling the water on the stove.”
            “But you said…”
            “However,” Harry interrupted calmly, “You must then wait for the water to cool down before mixing it with the formula. Ideally it needs to be lukewarm.”
            Picking up the large and definitely expensive box of formula he took a moment to consult the serving instructions printed on the side.
            “Lesson Number Three – Always use the correct amount of formula,” Harry announced as he picked up the scoop. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of scientific research that has gone into getting these measurements just right.”
            The kettle clicked loudly just as Harry finished adding the formula.
            Renesmee let out an unhappy cry.
            “All right, little one, it’s coming,” Harry reassured her, bouncing her with his arm as he placed his free hand on the side of the kettle briefly to check it’s temperature. “Lesson Number Four – Not every cry is going to be an ‘I’m Hungry’ cry. Most of the time it’s going to be an ‘I’m bored pay attention to me’ cry or, more than likely, ‘I’ve just made a mess in my nappy please clean me’ up cry.”
            Checking the side of the kettle once more Harry decided that it had cooled enough and filled the bottle up to the measurement line given before screwing the lid on with one hand, covering the nipple with the tip of his finger and beginning to shake the bottle like a maraca to mix everything up.
            He was completely unaware that Rosalie was no longer his only audience.
            “Once the formula has completely dissolved you can check the temperature by popping just a little bit on the inside of your wrist,” he told her whilst doing just that. “Trust me, you’ll quickly learn what’s too hot or too cold.”
            He was a little surprised by how quiet Rosalie was being.
            From what he’d heard about her he’d expected her to interrupt or kick off as soon as he’d started to give her even the slightest piece of advice.
            “Now for the actual feeding,” he announced, moving over to stand beside the blond vampire. “Have a seat,” he instructed her, nodding towards one of the stools.
It wasn’t ideal but given her immortality he didn’t think finding a comfortable position on a stool would be too difficult for her.
            Moving somewhat hesitantly Rosalie obeyed.
            Placing the bottle on the counted beside them Harry swiftly set about moving the unhappy baby from his arms to hers, positioning her properly so that she was cradled securely with her head up just a little bit.
            “Now with your free hand…well…almost free hand you need to hold the bottle so that it’s tilted down towards the baby’s mouth,” he instructed her, pressing the bottle into her hand and showing her the correct position. “This will keep the teat full of milk and stop the baby taking in air which is bad.”
            Pressing the teat against the babies little lips he smiled as she eagerly accepted the foreign object and began to suckle happily.
            Rosalie let out a little ‘oh’ of surprise.
            “And there were go – you’re feeding the baby.”
            “Thank you…” Rosalie murmured softly, her eyes fixed on Renesmee’s happy little face as the baby eagerly guzzled down her milk.
            Poor thing must have been starving.
            “She’ll stop drinking when she wants to,” Harry told her softly, stroking the soft little forehead with the tip of his finger. “If she doesn’t finish the full bottle that’s ok but you should always throw any leftover milk away. Never save it for later. This isn’t good for the baby.”
            Rosalie nodded in understanding.
            “And there you have, the basics of how to feed a baby…”
            Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when his statement was met with a round of applause, spinning on the spot to come face to face with the large group standing in the doorway of the kitchen;
            Carlisle and Esme, who looked every bit the proud grandparents.
            Emmett, who looked remarkably emotional for such a fun loving personality.
            Alice, who (of course) was armed with a camera.
            Draco and Jasper, who appeared to have been paying close attention to his little lesson, their hands linked over Draco’s stomach.
            And lastly Jacob, his mate, who couldn’t have looked prouder if he tried.
            “Um…Hi…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt his cheeks flame up with embarrassment, the action causing his nightshirt to rise u exposing her swollen belly above his pyjama bottoms. “So…I guess you saw most of that…”
            “Try all of it,” Draco snorted.
            “We were on our way to help Rosalie ourselves,” Esme explained. “But you appeared to be far more capable than the rest of us with handling the situation.”
            Harry shrugged, gesturing upstairs with his head.
            “Teddy.”
            Esme smiled in understanding.
            “Speaking of which I should probably go and check on the little monster,” Harry sighed, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “What time is it anyway?”
            “3:30.”
            “In the morning?” Harry groaned. “Ugh…I’d forgotten that even existed since Teddy started sleeping through the night. No wonder I feel so knackered now.”
            “Then let’s get you back to bed love,” Jacob said, moving forwards to slip his arms around his mate. “You’ve got to take care of yourself and our little one.”
            Harry resisted weakly, fighting back another yawn.
            “The baby will need burping after her bottle.”
            Esme smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek gently.
            “I can remember how to burp a baby,” she reassured him softly, her cool hands remarkably soothing on his skin. “Go on. You need your rest.”
            Her attention snapped over to Draco.
            “As do you. You’ve both got your own little ones to think of now,” she announced firmly. “Off to bed with you and I don’t want to see either of you down here for another six hours at least. You had a late night anyway, what with everything that happened, and you need your rest.”
            “Yes, Esme,” both Draco and Harry murmured somewhat sheepishly, allowing their respective mates to lead them out of the kitchen and back up the stairs towards their relative bedrooms.
            “Night, Harry.”
            “Night, Draco.”

~ * ~ * ~

            Draco wanted to help.
            He really did.
            He’d even gone so far as the walk up to the room with his wand at the ready so as to make the job even easier for the others by using magic.
            But the sight of his friends too still body, her clothes still stained with blood…
            It had taken Jasper nearly twenty minutes to calm him down as he dissolved into yet another panic attack that had left him a quivering mess.
            So instead of helping to clean Bella up for when she woke up, which Carlisle continued to reassure them all could be any day now, he’d made himself useful helping Harry look after Teddy while the wizard battled a sudden bout of pregnancy induced lethargy which was apparently quite common during pregnancy.
            “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot,” (1) Draco read aloud from the much loved book he’d had since he was a small body, smiling down at the little boy (currently blond) snuggled up in his lap more than ready for a story followed by his afternoon nap. “There once was a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbours. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he call his lucky cooking pot.”
            As he spoke he tapped his wand against the spine of the book, causing a light blue mist similar to that of a Patronus to burst out of the tip of his wand and form the images illustrated on the page.
            Teddy laughed, clapping his hands happily as his little eyes followed the mist.       “From miles around people came to him with their troubles, and the wizard was pleased to give his pot a stir and put things right.”
            Across the room Rosalie was feeding little Renesmee a bottle of blood, something that they had started doing as soon as they had found that the little girl was hungry for more than just baby formula.
            Honestly he found it a little bit disconcerting to watch a baby guzzle down a bottle of blood but if that was what she needed to stay healthy and happy then he was more than happy to put his own discomfort aside.
            “This well-beloved wizard lived to a goodly age, then died, leaving all his chattels to his only son,” Draco continued, carefully turning the tired old pages of the book. “This son was of a very different disposition to his gentle father. Those who could not work magic were, to the son’s mind, worthless, and he had often quarrelled with his father’s habit of dispensing magical aid to their neighbours.”
            “Is this really a child’s story?” Esme asked, sounding somewhat worried. “I mean, it seems a little bit dark already and it’s only just begun.”
            Draco paused in his recitation of the story to answer her polite question.
            “It’s no darker than some of your fairy tales,” he pointed out. “I read a couple once, mostly to annoy my father who was very anti-muggle at the time. Doesn’t the father die in Cinderella, leaving her alone with the wicked step-mother and cruel step-sisters? And doesn’t the evil witch order her step-daughter, Snow White, killed for being more beautiful than she is? Wouldn’t you call that dark?”
            “Well…yes, a little bit,” Esme agreed. “But it has a happy ending…”
            “While I wouldn’t call some of the endings in the Beedle and the Bard happy endings they do help wizarding children learn some very important lessons,” Draco explained. “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot is no exception. It teaches us, witches and wizards, that you should always strive to use your magic altruistically.”
            “Altru-what?” Emmett asked loudly from where he was perched on the arm of the chair beside his wife, smiling down at his niece.
            “Altruistically,” Draco repeated. “Selflessly. Nobly.”
            “Oh.”
            “Unca Dwaco,” Teddy whined loudly, looking up at his honorary uncle with big, unhappy eyes, tapping the little book with his hand. “More stowy…”
            “Sorry, Teddy, just had to have a quick grown up conversation. Now where were we?” Draco asked, looking back to the page.
            “Nasty son,” Teddy mumbled helpfully, snuggling in to get comfortable again.
            “Upon the father’s death, the son found hidden inside the old cooking pot a small package bearing his name. He opened it, hoping for gold, but found instead a soft, thick slipper, much too small to wear, and with no pair.”
            Teddy let out a giggle as the image in the mist changed to reflect this.
            “A fragment of parchment within the slipper bore the words ‘In the fond hope, my son, that you will never need it. The son cursed his father’s age-softened mind, then threw the slipper back into the cauldron, resolving to use it henceforth as a rubbish pail,” Draco ended with a dramatic flourish.
            Teddy gasped loudly.
            “That very night a peasant woman knocked on the front door. ‘My granddaughter is afflicted by a crop of warts, sir,’ she told him. ‘Your father used to mix a special poultice in that old cooking pot-’ ‘Begone!’ cried the son. ‘What care I for your brat’s warts?’ And he slammed the door in the old woman’s face.”
            Teddy let out a soft gasp, his thumb moving slowly up to slip into his mouth.
            Draco smiled.
            He suspected the little boy would drift off sometime during the next page.
            The thumb sucking was proving to be a pretty reliable indicator.
            “At once there came a loud clanging and banging from his kitchen. The wizard lit his wand and opened the door, and there, to his amazement, he saw his father’s old cooking pot: it had sprouted a single foot of brass, and was hopping on the spot, in the middle of the floor, making a fearful noise upon the flagstones.”
            Glancing down Draco spied the little boys eyelids beginning to droop.
            “The wizard approached it in wonder, but fell back hurriedly when he saw that the whole of the pot’s surface was covered in warts. ‘Disgusting object!’ he cried, and he tried firstly to Vanish the pot, then to clean it by magic, and finally to force it out of the house. None of his spells worked, however, and he was unable to prevent the pot hopping after him up to bed, clanging and banging loudly on every wooden stair. The wizard could not sleep all night…however I think this little one has finally nodded off for his afternoon nap,” Draco concluded, looking down at the little boy peacefully sucking on his thumb, his face pressed against Draco’s chest.
            Tapping his wand against the book to end the spell Draco moved very slowly so as not to jostle the sleeping child, placing both his wand and the book on the coffee table beside his seat before rising to his feet.
            “I’ll just take him upstairs and put him down for a bit,” he announced softly before moving to do just that, smiling to himself when the little boy showed no signs of being disturbed unlike the last time he had tried to put the boy to bed.
            He was getting better at this childcare lark.
            Perhaps by the time his own little one arrived in a few months time he wouldn’t feel quite so helpless or terrified out of his mind.
            Slipping into the Master Bedroom currently being occupied by the little family Draco smiled across at Harry and Teddy, curled up together on top of the bed sheets with their hands interlocked on top of Harry’s stomach.
            “He’s down for his nap, then?” Harry asked softly as he smiled across at him.
            “Yes. Four pages into The Wizard and the Hopping Pot and he was out like a light,” Draco explained as he ever so carefully laid the little boy down in his crib.
            “The Wizard and the what?” Jacob asked with a soft chuckle.
            Harry smiled.
            He could remember his own reaction being something similar the first time he’d heard about the magical fairy tales.
            Ron’s reaction still made him smile.
            Fancy thinking Cinderella was a type of illness…
            “It’s a Magical children’s story,” he explained softly, chuckling himself as his stomach literally seemed to ripple beneath their hands. “Seriously, what is he doing in there today? Backflips?”
            Jacob’s attention was instantly back on his unborn son.
            From across the room Draco smiled, his hands resting on his own slightly podgy stomach as he imagined what that would feel like when his own little one was big enough to move about and cause all sorts of trouble.
            “Give me a shout if you want me to look after him when he wakes up,” he told the couple before making his way towards the door.
            “Thanks for doing this, Draco,” Harry sighed. “I don’t know why I’ve been so much more tired than usual these last few days…”
            “Harry, you’re pregnant,” Draco pointed out calmly. “Enjoy the laziness and endless pampering while it lasts.”
            Harry chuckled, nodding his head in agreement.
            Exiting the bedroom Draco decided to check up on his husband who had been sequestered in their room for the last few hours having disappeared not long after lunch had been served for the mortals.
            As he approached their bedroom at the other end of the corridor he heard music playing softly, muggle music that he’d heard Jasper listen to on more than one occasion while he was putting his memories to paper.
            Slipping inside as quietly as possible he was unsurprised to find his husband curled up on the window seat, his current sketchbook perched on his knees as he moved the piece of charcoal across its smooth page.
            A smudge running across Jasper’s cheek spoke to his frustration with his current piece of work – he had a bad habit of rubbing his knuckles under his eyes when he was having trouble getting something just right.
            Crossing the room his perched on what was left of the window seat behind his husband, leaning his chin on the strong shoulder and peering down at the beautiful portrait of a now familiar face.
            Jaspers mother, Eleanor Whitlock.
            “What’s wrong?” Draco asked softly, pressing a kiss to his husband’s neck as he felt how tense the vampire was beneath his hands.
            Jasper sighed.
            “I can’t get her eyes right,” he admitted softly, stroking the tip of his finger underneath the beautiful eyes gazing up at them from the page, smudging a little more of the charcoal he’d been using. “They were brighter, more…more full of life…”
            Draco studied the picture.
            Ever since he’d first seen the photographs of his husband’s family he had been struck by the similarity between mother and son, everything from the gentle curls they shared to the soft line of their jaws.
            He’d often wondered if their eyes had been the same colour.
            Sadly the sepia tones of the photographs couldn’t confirm his suspicions.
            “Jasper,” he began softly, reaching down to take the sketchpad away from his husband whilst relocating his body onto his husbands lap. “This portrait, like all your other portraits, is perfect. It’s beautiful.”
            He placed the picture to one side.
            “Now…” he began, sliding his arms around his husband’s neck. “…why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”
            Jasper’s eyes avoided his.
            “Jasper…”
            It was a couple of long moments before his husband finally spoke.
            “I’m worried…” Jasper admitted softly. “I’m worried that…that Bella’s not going to wake up and…and that that means that…when…when it comes to…that…”
            Draco froze.
            “You’re afraid that I won’t wake up.”
            Jasper could only nod.
            Draco felt his heart give a painful lurch in his chest as his husband finally voiced the thoughts that had been silently tormenting both of them since Bella had gone into labour three days ago.
            “Jasper…” he began, his voice shaking. “Bella is going to wake up. And…and when I go into labour we will have magic on our side. It will be planned. Healer Mogg will be here. The only reason she’s not here now is because she’s in hospital herself.”
            They’d finally heard back from Healer Mogg the day after Renesmee’s birth.
            She’d been in an accident.
            At the time he was trying to get hold of her she was in a magically induced coma recovering from the aftereffects of a very nasty hex, courtesy of her latest patient’s ex-husband who had now been arrested for attempted murder.
            Talk about drama…
            Draco sighed, reaching out to cup his husband’s strong jaw.
            “I will be fine.”
            “But…”
            “I trust you. I trust Carlisle. And I trust Healer Mogg,” Draco spoke calmly, his gaze locked with Jasper’s. “I will be fine. And Bella–”
            Draco was cut off by a very excited Alice tumbling into their room.
            “She’s waking up!”
            And then she was gone.
            Draco chuckled, returning his gaze to his husband with a smile.
            “See?” he asked brightly. “I hate to say I told you so…well, no, actually I love to say I told you so…so…I told you…”
            A cry of what could only be described as pleasant surprise escaped his lips as Jasper stood suddenly, hauling his husband up into his arms with the effortless ease of a vampire and all but threw him down onto the soft bed.
            Draco hummed happily as his husband proceeded to crawl up his body in order to practically devour his lips in a wonderfully toe curling kiss, his strong hands teasing the sensitive skin of his sides in a passionate attack that literally left him gasping for air when the immortal finally pulled away.
            “Oh, don’t stop on my account…” Charlie’s teasing voice came from the general direction of the door. “In fact my delightful mate/soon to be wife instructed me to give you a tiny bit more privacy so here goes…”
            Backing out of the room, his lips quirked up in what Draco now knew to be the trademark ‘Weasley Smirk’ the redheaded vampire made a big show of carefully closing the bedroom door behind him.
            “Guess that’s Alice’s way of telling us to keep out of the way for a bit…” Draco chuckled, looping his arms up and around his husband’s strong neck. “Can’t say I’m complaining…even though a part of me is desperate to check on Bella…”
            “You’ll have to wait until Bella has learned to control her bloodlust,” Jasper explained softly, leaning down to nip at the smooth skin of Draco’s throat. “And I can think of no better way to pass the time than…”
            Draco gasped, arching up against his husband’s strong body as a pair of very talented hands began to tease him up towards familiar heights of pleasure.
            “Ugh…”
            Neither of them felt the urge to leave their room for quite some time.

A/N I promised myself I’d have this up before Christmas and look…it’s before Christmas – yay! A month or so ago I ended up killing my laptop and of course the only file that hadn’t updated properly onto my external hard drive was, you guessed it, OLAL. Had to restart this chapter from scratch. Hope it was worth the wait!
A/N 2 – All baby knowledge/information referenced was sourced from the internet.

(1)   – The Tales of the Beedle and the Bard by J.K. Rowling
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Of Lions And Lambs - Part Four