I watch my wife as she ties a bow onto yet another gift. My wife. I am still amazed by that. We have been married almost two weeks now, but I can't get over the fact that she is my wife. That she is Mrs. Harry Potter.
I smile at the memory of her calling me Mr. Granger and of what Snape said to me after the ceremony. He told me that I was lucky to have found her. He was proud of me and the man I have become. Snape! Snape was proud of me. Can you believe it? Well, neither could I at first. But he was right. I am damned lucky to have found my soulmate. That's what she is. I feel whole only when she is near me. There is no other explanation. We truly were meant for each other.
"Harry, are you all right?" her sweet voice brings me out of my reverie. She is looking at me funny and I realize that I must have been staring at her.
I smile and reassure her that everything is fine. More than fine, actually. After a few moments I hear her harrumph and my gaze focuses back on her beautiful face. "Are you actually going to wrap a present, or am I going to do them all?"
Oops. I didn't realize that I had been off in la-la-land again and not doing what I was supposed to be. It's Christmas Eve and Hermione and I are wrapping the last minute gifts for the children. I watch as she carefully places another box under the tree.
I am entranced by the way the lights reflect in her hair, and the way she is sitting on the floor rubbing her rounded belly every few minutes. She truly is beautiful. I shake my head to clear my wandering thoughts and start to wrap the broomstick I bought for Arthur. Hermione wouldn't let me get him a real one, only a training broom. Bullocks to training brooms. I never needed one.
I smile inwardly as I remembered the argument we had in the store about it. We were on our honeymoon. Yes, we were Christmas shopping on our honeymoon. How else were we supposed to buy gifts for the children without them being around? I had spotted the newest model of Nimbus brooms in the window at Quality Quidditch Supplies. She immediately said no to that one with the argument of it being too fast. I think we looked at seven different brooms and each one had a different dangerous feature attached to it. Either it was too fast, would fly to high, was hard to control, was specifically designed for trick maneuvers, etc. After over an hour, I finally relented to my pregnant wife, and got the training broom. I have learned that arguing with a pregnant woman gets you nowhere but the doghouse.
I tie the bow on the box and my eyes venture to her again. Even with her swollen feet and round belly, she is sexy as hell. I want to make love to her badly, but that has to wait a while. We found that out the hard way during the honeymoon. It seems that pregnant women have a tendency to have spontaneous, uncontrollable bursts of magic. The hormones and the conflicting magic of the child, play havoc on the witches system. We had dismissed many of the little things as everyday occurrences, such as the teapot boiling over while it was sitting on the counter, or the fireplace erupting at any given moment. But the big one scared the hell out of us.
We were in our hotel room making love when suddenly every candle's flame grew three inches, and every electric appliance in the room exploded. Hermione's head began to throb and I immediately called the hotel mediwitch. When the woman came to check on my wife, she laughed at my nervousness. I'm sorry I had never seen such a thing happen and I was honestly scared shitless. She asked if we were being 'intimate.' Before I could lambaste her with a comment of how rude the question was Hermione answered her.
It seems that these spontaneous bursts of elemental magic occur usually when the hormones are raging, especially when the woman is near or amidst an orgasm. Well that explains it, doesn't it? In other words, every time Hermione climaxes, the room is likely to blow up. What does that mean for me? No sex, until the babies are born. Four months! Can I really make it that long without loving her physically? I guess I have to, unless I want my house to burn down.
I finish wrapping another gift and Hermione asks me to make her some tea. I, being the dutiful husband that I am, oblige. I first reach for the Earl Gray, but quickly remember that she must have herbal; something having to do with caffeine and the babies. Then as I am about to pour in the honey, I drop the jar and start scooping in the sugar. Pregnant women should avoid honey. I guess there is some sort of bacteria or some such nonsense I read about in one of Hermione's pregnancy books. Yes, I have actually read them.
Carefully, I carry our tea back out to the common room and set hers on the coffee table. She is finishing the last gift. Her fingers nimbly tie the bow and it is stacked amongst the many others under the tree. I reach out a hand to help her up and she rubs her belly again. I've never noticed her rubbing her belly so much. The boys must be playing in there tonight.
As she sits down on the couch, I pull her close to me. This is what I like; holding her at the end of a long day. This is heaven. I feel her tense up slightly and her hand rubs once more over her womb. "Love, is everything all right?"
She smiles a reassuring smile and says it's probably just indigestion. I make a mental note to watch her tonight. She has been over doing it, and this is concerning me. We sit in companionable silence sipping our tea and staring into the fire. I hear a yawn escape her mouth and I look down to see her eyes fighting to stay open.
Gently, I pull her cup from her and banish it to the kitchen, along with mine. My arms wrap around her waist and under her knees as I carry her upstairs to bed. I look down at the woman in my arms and can't help but think about where I was a year ago. Last Christmas, I was alone. I went to the Burrow and watched as my adopted family played and laughed and loved. I only wanted one thing for Christmas and I got it seven months later.
I never really expected to ever be with Hermione. I dreamed, certainly, but never expected what I have. I lay her on the bed and cover her lightly in our blankets before curling up behind her. I rub my hand over where my sons lay in her womb. Her belly is tight, harder than normal. I wait for the usual kick from twin number one, but after a few moments realize that he must be sleeping. Her stomach finally relaxes and I hear her sigh softly.
I am awakened to the sound of someone calling my name. I reach over, blindly to where my wife should be laying to find only bundled sheets and blankets. I raise my head to see the lavatory light on and a sudden streak of panic fills me. I rush to the bathroom to find Hermione huddled over herself in the middle of the floor. She looks up at me and her eyes reveal her pain. I want to take it away. Before I can say anything her words stop me.
"Harry, I think something's wrong."
*
A/N - Sorry for the short chapter and the cliffie. I had to do it. I had the next chapter written, but needed this segway. Please forgive me. I know this chapter isn't the best, but I will make up for it next chapter. I love you all and thank you.