Chapter 28
"Harry, could you help me a second, please?"
I never thought that my wife's beautiful voice would annoy me so much. I know it's not her fault, but a man can only take so much. It has been a month since the Christmas scare, and Hermione is driving me batty. She wants to do so much and refuses our help when we offer. I wonder if every pregnant woman is as stubborn as my Mione.
I follow her voice toward the kitchen. I have to stifle my laugh at the sight before me. All I can see is my wife's beautiful derriere sticking out of the cabinet under the sink. She's gotten stuck again. I silently ease behind her and place my hands lightly on her hips. She jumps slightly and almost hits her head on the underside of the sink.
I can hear her cursing me as I guide her backwards and help her to straighten up. Her belly has gotten bigger and the strain on her back limits her mobility. Hence, yet another reason she should be sitting down with her feet up and letting me pamper her. But no, not my Mione; she is too damned independent and the babies are putting up a fight. Would you expect any different from my sons?
"Love, what were you doing?" I ask still trying to hide the laughter that is trying to escape.
"Don't you dare laugh at me, Harry James Potter! I was just going to go clean the kitchen and lavatories. When I couldn't quite reach the cleaner that was in the back of the cabinet, I got stuck." My mock innocent expression does not help me one bit. "Stop it, Harry! It's not funny."
I quickly wrap my arms around my wonderfully round wife before she can leave in a huff. "Love, you know you can't be doing that. Healer Morningstar wanted you to take the last few months easy. Let me do it for you."
"You? Ha! You clean a lavatory? Harry, we can't use magic, remember. I can't picture you kneeling down to scrub around a toilet."
"Can you physically kneel down to scrub around a toilet?" I tease.
She chuckles lightly at this. "I guess you're right. You would have to help me up anyway and that's getting harder by the day. By the time these babies come, you will need a bloody fork truck to pick my arse up off the floor. But honestly Harry, do you really want to clean the loo?"
"Hermione, I lived most of my childhood as the Dursley's house elf. I did the dishes, cooked, cleaned, ironed… and all by Muggle means, no less. I know how to scrub a toilet. No, I don't want to, but it's better than putting you and my sons on the loo floor," I say as I guide her out of the kitchen and into the common room.
She finally relents as I set her in the comfy armchair by the fire with a book. That should keep her occupied for a while. I kiss her softly before heading back into the kitchen to clean it… no scour it… to sanitize it. I don't know what made Hermione a sudden sanitary freak, but nothing is aloud to be dirty, not even a little bit. I think the kids have cleaned their room twice every day just for good measure. The 'Wrath of Mum' was enough to put them to work in keeping everything spotless.
I look around the kitchen at the shiny counters and dusted cabinets. Even the faucet and such are immaculate. What the hell was she going to clean in here? If it were any cleaner, I would swear I was in St. Mungo's. I quickly run a towel across the already clean surfaces, and run up the back stairs to the upstairs loo. I don't want to go through the common room and her think that I was done already.
I proceed to sterilize the three lavatories in our home. Who needs magic? I start to head back downstairs, but before I put my foot on the first stair, I hear my lovely wife bellowing.
"Harry, my back hurts, love. Can you come and rub it for me?" At least this request has nothing to do with putting my hands in muck. I get to put my hands on her.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I can see her curly hair peeking over the back of the sofa. The firelight casting a red hue through her tresses made my heart skip a beat. It had been almost five weeks since I was able to make love to my beautiful wife. I couldn't wait to get my hands on her soft skin, even for just a massage.
As she saw me come around the couch, she turned sideways so I could rub her back. I worked in slow, large circles across her hips and lower back, up her spine to her shoulders and back down. I was trying very hard to keep my mind focused on anything but the growing bulge in my trousers but the light moaning that was escaping her, was quickly crumbling my resolve.
I think she felt it too. Her head rolled back, exposing her neck to my hungry gaze. My lips found her pulse point without effort and she moaned louder. This was going downhill very fast. We can't do this. I want to, but we can't.
Hermione's fingers find my hair and gently pull me closer. I am surprised by her tongue delving into my mouth even before our lips meet. God, she is sexy. I want her. I have wanted her. Do you know how hard it is to lie next to someone and not be able to touch them? Damn hard, I tell you!
I kiss her feverishly. I see five weeks of hell behind me, and pure bliss right now in my arms. Somehow she has turned and I am kneeling between her knees. I get a gentle kick in my gut by one of the boys. It is so strange to feel them kick me from their mother's womb, but I love it all the same. It is a feeling that I will never forget.
Hermione starts pulling my t-shirt over my head. I really need to take control of this. I'm afraid of what might blow up if we continue. I reluctantly pull away. It takes every last muscle in my body to force myself away from her warmth. "Mione, we can't do this."
She leans forward and captures my lips with hers. "Harry… please… I need you…" she whispers between kisses. Do you know how hard it is to say no to her? Do you? I risk the consequences and give in to my wife. She really had to twist my arm didn't she?
My lips graze down her jaw and neck to her collarbone, where I linger for a few moments. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her blouse and I slowly unbuttoned it, kissing every inch of exposed skin. She gasped when my lips found her tender nipple and started sucking. I tasted something sweet and looked up at her, a question in my eyes. "It's just the milk glands getting ready. It's all right," she whispers and I continue my task.
It was oddly erotic to be suckling my wife's breast and tasting the sweetness from the pre-milk. I have never tasted anything like it before. It wasn't a great amount, just a taste. But it was one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had. I worship her breasts for a few more moments before my lips start to graze down her belly, over my babies, and down the deep brown line to her center.
I inhale her musky scent and am in heaven. She smells and tastes like ambrosia. Oh, how I have missed this. How I have missed her. My tongue laves her folds, making quick work of her orgasm. She must have been as pent up as I was… as I am. I watch as she writhes on the sofa in ecstasy. She is so damned sexy and wanton.
I barely give her a moment to recover before I pull her to her knees and lean her forward over the sofa and quickly pulling my trousers down to free my erection. I try to hold myself in check for a moment. I have to remind myself that I can't just drive into her like a mad dog. I slowly rub my prick up and down her slit. My name escapes her lips in a soft moan as she backs up to me. I finally give in and slide into her heat. She feels so good. She is tight and warm and wet… It takes everything I have to go slow; to be gentle, even though a few moments later she is begging me to go faster and harder. It doesn't take me long to bring her to the edge again and I can't help but follow her over.
Throughout the night, I made love to my wife on the sofa, on the floor, in front of the fireplace. We couldn't get enough of each other. Her magic must have calmed down a bit in the past few weeks because the only odd things that happened were the fire in the fireplace turning a strange purple color and the candles flaring up to almost 6 inches. No explosions, no fire pouring out of the walls, no earthquakes… well, I always feel like that afterward, but that's not the point, is it?
We lie in each other's arms completely sated, leaning against the coffee table, when Hermione jumps a bit. I look at her questioningly. She just smiles and puts my hand on her stomach. I feel… is that a knee or an elbow? They both are moving a lot, which is a feat in itself considering there is no room in there. I surmise that they are either playing or are extremely pissed off about the recreational sports occurring on the outside.
I lay my head against her womb. I can't hear anything but her heartbeat, but I know they are in there. "Ok, little ones, it's time to let Mummy rest. She needs all her strength for when you finally come to meet us." My lips linger a few moments on her exposed belly. I look at her protruding belly button and the dark line that runs down to her pubis. I will never understand all of the side effects of estrogen and hormones; thank Merlin!
I rest my head there, like a pillow, turning my head to look up to see the smiling face of my best friend, my lover, my wife. I have never felt such love before as I do when I look in her eyes. She has given me so much and will be giving me two sons in a few months. How did I get this lucky? Really, do I really deserve all of this?
I know that at this point in the pregnancy, Hermione will drive me nuts. It will probably get worse later, too. But I know, in the end it will be worth it to hold my sons in my arms. I will sacrifice anything for her, even if it is my sanity. I love her, that's all it takes to make a man willing to be committed to a rubber room in St. Mungo's.
I smile up at my lovely wife and see that her eyes are getting heavy. I am glad that the kids are at Ron's tonight. It wouldn't be very good for them to walk in and see us naked and asleep in front of the fireplace. So this is where we will sleep tonight. No kids, no interruptions, no inhibitions.
My eyes start to droop and I pull Hermione into my arms. Her skin is still warm from our earlier activities, and my skin tingles where it touches hers. As I start to succumb to the slumber beckoning me, I hear her sweet voice, "I love you, Harry."
How could I ever think that voice was annoying? Like I said before, I would do anything for her. I would give her the world, if she asked me. I snuggle my face into her beautiful hair. "And I you, my love; more than anything."