When You Say Nothing At All
By: azzie adams
AN: I own nothing.
Rated: PG-13 for the first part, but I'll warn you as we get closer to the sexually mature chapters. Not for a while though.
Warnings: Mother figure!Protective!Rosalie, Temporary!Mute!Harry, Future!Edward/Harry, Rosalie/Emmett, Jasper/Alice, Carlisle/Esme, Slash, Het, Explicit Scenes. Alive!Lily and James.
Summery: Rosalie stumbled upon Godric's Hollow shortly after Voldemort is killed and hears the cries of a baby in the rubble. Baby Harry captures her heart and she takes him home to raise him as her own. Unfortunately, the Killing Curse has bound Harry's ability to talk, making him mute. Edward is the only one who can understand him fully. Hilarity ensues as the Cullens band together to raise the infant who seems to have extraordinary abilities, carrying him through toddler and teenage years. But when a strange man appears on their doorstep asking for him, Harry will have to choose between his destiny, and the life he has always known.
I've seen this kind of plot before, in which the Cullens find Harry as a baby, but I believe I have put a good spin on it. As usual, it's going to be quite humorous, but with lots of romance and chaos thrown in for kicks. =)
Rosalie wasn't known for being compulsive. She wasn't known for making rash decisions in an 'act first, ask questions later' context. Of course not. She was straight-laced, and always thought things through. She was the voice of reason in her family. Where Alice always followed her heart instead of her head; where Emmett always saw the humorous side to everything; where Edward generally stayed out of anything and everything; and where Jasper always thought of things in terms of what was safe for Alice, Rosalie always put everyone's safety first.
Rosalie toned everyone down, making them see the cold hard truth about everything in their endless lives. It was a dictatorship, and she was Dick.
Unfortunately, all the while she had been protecting herself and her family, she hadn't once ran across her one weakness:
She smelled blood and she had followed her senses to the horrific scene of a house in tatters, with a large green skull glowing overhead. She tossed her head. Wizards. Barbarians, all of them.
But as she came closer, she heard the quiet sniffles and the rustling in the rubble. She peered closer, wondering if there had been any survivors. It was human blood to be sure. It smelled new and sweet, like that of a….
She let out a gasp as she pulled away what might have been a floorboard, and there underneath it lie a small child, barely a year old by the looks of him. He was curled in a thick blanket in the remains of what looked to be a white crib. The baby boy was nestled obliviously in the midst of the destruction, his arms and legs waving impatiently in the confines of the green blanket.
The fragile child smacked his lips softly together, waving his chubby little arms at the beautiful woman before him.
Rosalie's heart melted as she took in the tufted black hair that stood cutely atop the boy's head, his chubby cheeks and dimples created by giggling red lips. And the shimmering green eyes that peered up at her had her throwing all of her previous caution to the wind. The baby was alone. She didn't see anyone else in the rubble, and she was quite hurried anyway to bother looking.
The ability to have a child was the one thing that she would forever miss about being human. She had mourned over the loss for decades, thinking that she would never be able to enjoy holding a child that was her own, raising it and watching it grow to love her and adore her, and call her 'mom'. She and Esme shared that one regret.
But it seemed, even after all her cold judgment over the happiness and content dispositions of her family, she had been granted this one single wish. Providence had saved a baby from the rubble of the house. Saved him just for her.
She didn't know how long the child had been there, but he certainly wasn't crying. He was flapping his hands and legs like wings, refusing to sit still as Rosalie carefully took the small child into her arms. She had never held something so delicate and small in her immortal life, and was scared that her strength would crush the small being. But the baby looked comfortable as he snuggled into her arms, a hand reaching to grab at her hair and pull it to his face.
Rosalie's eyes glowed as she fell head-over-heels for the baby. She tucked the green blanket that matched the child's eyes snugly around him.
He smacked his lips again expectantly, but seemed disappointed as he tried again and again. His lips formed a small 'o' and he looked at his host again, tilting his head.
"What are you trying to say?" Rosalie whispered to him, touching his nose softly with the tip of her finger, smiling as the boy reached for her hand and started playing with her fingers.
"Where are your parents?" She asked him, expecting no answer from the happily playing boy. She surveyed the rubble quickly, but didn't smell any blood, nor did she see any other rustling in the debris. If the child had parents, they were dead, or they were gone. Rosalie bristled at the thought that parents could leave their child alone. But from what she could see; the white crib, the soft fabric of the blanket, the well-knit jumper on the boy's body and his cleanliness led her to believe that they were, in fact, good parents. Something had happened. She looked up at the dark mark again, frowning.
She shook her head as she looked back down at the baby, who seemed to have fallen asleep, despite her cold arms, which didn't offer much of the warmth she was sure he was used to. She stroked his small head softly. She could see something on his forehead peeking just underneath the black fringe, and soothed his hair back.
Underneath the hair was a lightening bolt-shaped scar. The boy squirmed in her hands as her cold fingers attempted to soothe the ripped skin. He must have gotten it when the house fell. Come to think of it, she had no idea how a small infant could survive an entire house collapsing around him. He was a miracle baby. She was sure of it.
Her eyes caught something knitted into the collar of the jumper. She pulled the blanket away from the baby's neck to get a better look. There was name right under the bib, knitted in a very elegant hand.
"Harry," she whispered, lowly, brushing the child's hair from his face. She smiled lovingly at him, and as he snored quietly in her arms, she vowed to take care of him, never let him out of her sight, and never let him out of her arms.
Rosalie wasn't sure what to say to her family as she stood in the woods just outside of Edinburgh. A good-sized manor stood before her, very old and ivy climbed up the sides and front of the estate. She looked down at the sleeping child in her hands. The baby hadn't made any noises since she left the ruins of his house. He had gurgled a bit and smiled widely as he pulled her hair a few times, but fell asleep quickly, as if lulled by the feel of the wind and Rosalie's smooth and quick steps through the forest.
The rest of her family was out hunting. She had split with Emmett just before she smelt the baby's blood. She figured he must have gotten sidetracked by something bigger and more promising and took off in an opposite direction, sparing him a hint of the heavenly scent of human blood.
Rosalie cuddled the boy as she entered the house. It was dark and she figured she would keep it that way for the sake of the sleeping child. She well knew that they didn't have any milk or food in the house. She would have to make it a point to get to the store as soon as possible. She didn't even know if Carlisle would let her keep the child, but food and nourishment were a must.
Unfortunately, it was late at night and she seriously doubted any market in the middle of the country would be open. She mentally prepared a list of things she would need to buy as soon as dawn broke and the markets opened. Bottles, formula, baby powder, silk cloth diapers with a fashionable diaper bag to carry them in…
She considered what her family would say when they discovered her with a child. Esme and Alice would swoon, certainly. Alice would probably have seen it coming, come to think of it, and Rosalie steeled herself as she thought of what her sister would see or had already seen as she tried to look for Rosalie on the way home. Esme would think Harry was a darling and of course want to keep him if he was, indeed, an orphan. She would probably worry heartily about Jasper, who would try to remain calm about a human in the house, especially one as fragile as Harry. Emmett would love him, Rosalie felt sure. He would be a bit cynical about his mate having a child with her, but behind all the humor and teasing, Emmett was kind and endearing, and would never refuse Rosalie anything she really wanted. And Rosalie really wanted Harry.
The only two that concerned her were Carlisle and Edward. The pair thought along the same lines really, having been together for longer than the rest. Edward would think it was irresponsible to keep a child, and probably think only about the safety of the child around Jasper. Rosalie knew Edward well. He would try to think of ways to avoid the inevitable, which was that Rosalie would refuse to put Harry in an orphanage after all the horrible stories she'd heard of them. Carlisle would suggest the same, but ultimately, they would know that Rosalie wouldn't settle for anything less than keeping him. They would see it in her eyes.
She carried the baby up to the room she shared with Emmett, rocking him slowly as she opened and closed the door gently. She moved the large couch to sit in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the back wall of the room, facing the woods where she expected the rest of her family to emerge from soon.
She heard a cough below her, and found Harry starring up at her owlishly with his almond-shaped eyes, blinked steadily up at her. His head lay in the crook of her elbow, snuggled closely to her chest. He moved his small fingers experimentally a few times as he regarded her, his eyes flickering over her face, almost as if he were trying to memorize her.
She felt bad for having woken him up. She'd been so careful to not move him, but then again, she couldn't blame herself for wanting to look even more into his green eyes, almost as if she was staring into a deep emerald pool.
The baby coughed again, and stretched out in her arms. Rosalie smiled affectionately at him. Not once had the child made so much as a cry or a laugh, and she was slightly concerned, but perhaps the child hadn't felt the need to. Rosalie felt a sadness for the child once he realized that his parents were gone forever.
Rosalie heard the echoing footfalls of her family in the woods, approaching the house quickly. She looked down at the sleepy boy, cuddling him closer and preparing to protect him if perchance Jasper lost control.
The boy snuggled his face into her chest, grasping the silk fabric of her blouse in his small hand. Rosalie pressed a kiss to his head protectively, whispering soothing words into his small ear.
"Don't you worry, little one. I won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anyone hurt you. No matter what anyone says, you're mine now." She smiled softly down at her new charge, and her heart swelled as she saw a smile spread across the boy's face, plumping his cheeks and stretching his red lips.
She was a vampire and he was a newborn human child. She stroked his chubby little cheeks and admired his face. He would be a beautiful boy when he grew up. She could already see it. With his unruly black hair and dazzling green eyes, he would be glorious.
For once, Rosalie let herself forget about the consequences. It wasn't logical. It wasn't reasonable.
It was love.
An old wizard surveyed the ruins with grievous eyes, the normal sparkle completely extinguished. He had searched through the rubble himself in the hopes of finding the small baby that should have been there. He had steeled himself to the knowledge that if he found what he was looking for, he probably wouldn't find it to be alive. Nevertheless, he cast a spell over the damage for signs of life or magic. He found none. So he scoured the remains fruitlessly, coming up empty handed as he turned over floorboards, brick and glass.
His heart broke as he saw the white crib laying in pieces amongst the shattered glass, not wanting to think about what could have happened to the child if it was not here. He at least hoped that he would have a body to bring back to Lily and James, who lay unconscious and battered in St. Mungo's. He had thought that perhaps Voldemort would have killed all of them in his pursuit of Harry, but he had quickly tortured, disarmed and disapparated the both of them without killing them. He only had one goal that night, and that was to kill the child that was prophesied to kill him one day. From the looks of it, he had succeeded. The old wizard felt the tears beginning to well behind his eyes.
He thought of the child's parents lying pale and oblivious in the Spell Damage wing of St. Mungo's with their friends around them, waiting for Dumbledore to return. It took all of Dumbledore's persuasive power to keep Harry Potter's godfathers from coming with him, telling them that their friends needed them and that he could handle Voldemort and making sure that Harry was all right.
But what could he tell them? Tell them that he failed them? That the baby they loved and cherished was gone?
He remembered holding the little boy in his arms soon after he was born. The almond-shaped eyes peering up a him and burying his hands in his long beard. The boy had a way of making everyone around him fall in love with him, as babies often did. But Harry… Harry had been special. He had been destined for great things.
He had been.
Now, there wasn't even a body to bring back to Lily and James, who had loved the child with everything that they were.
Albus felt a tear slide down his cheek as he disapparated, leaving the ruins of his friend's house… and their lives behind.
What do you think?