Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: See 'All He Ever Wanted.'

Great Expectations

Harry made his way to the kitchen, yawning as he went. At an unhurried pace, he poured himself a cup of orange juice and sat down, enjoying the quiet of the morning. It wasn't often that he was the one awake first, since Hermione was the morning person of the two of them, but this morning, Hermione was still sleeping and he wasn't about to wake her, not when he knew what Hermione's mornings were usually like these days.

It was a few minutes before he deemed himself awake enough and went to pick up the Daily Prophet from where it waited by the fireplace. He took another drink of juice as he opened the newspaper-- and then choked, narrowly escaping spewing juice all over the paper.

The banner headline, boldly across the top of the front page, read "Harry Potter Expecting First Child?" and was accompanied by a large picture of Hermione, in profile, as she browsed through a selection of books outside of Flourish & Blotts. On the picture, the Prophet had drawn a circle around Hermione's stomach with an arrow pointing to it.

Harry grimaced as he quickly skimmed through the article that was mostly speculation about whether Hermione was, in fact, pregnant, given the just-perceptible bump of Hermione's stomach, noticeable when the breeze flattened Hermione's fairly loose shirt against her body. The article made much of the fact that Harry and Hermione had been married for more than four years now and it was clearly high time for them to be expecting their first child.

Blast the Daily Prophet anyway! And really, he thought sourly, it was incredible that the wizarding world apparently had nothing more news-worthy to write about than his own personal life. He could never, for the life of him, understand this perpetual fascination about him.

The only thing that somewhat mollified him at this point was that the media had, apparently, finally learned to respect his blanket ban on talking to the press about his personal life so they had not even bothered to contact either him or Hermione about this article before printing it.

From their bedroom, he heard the sounds of footsteps and Hermione using the loo.

He sighed a little. He really did not want to have to show Hermione the article but could hardly hide it from her. But even so, he made a point of folding the newspaper up so the article was hidden before he busied himself with frying some eggs for Hermione's breakfast.

He was very glad that Hermione had finally stopped feeling sick every morning; he'd hated seeing how pale and wan she looked in the mornings and hated knowing she felt ill. But now that the morning sickness had passed, Hermione had begun to eat.

That was, he thought, one of the biggest changes in Hermione. Hermione's usual breakfast was a cup of tea and the occasional slice of toast. These days, Hermione's breakfast was eggs and toast and possibly some cereal too. More surprising was the way Hermione ate throughout the day-this, in the girl who had been known to forget about meals entirely if she got too caught up in her work. Now, however, Hermione never missed a meal and, in fact, ate in between meals too. He would never say it aloud-he liked having all his bits in one piece-but there were times she reminded him of a cow grazing, not eating a lot at each sitting necessarily but just nibbling steadily.

It was a few minutes before Hermione made her way into the kitchen where he had her cup of tea and a plate of fried eggs waiting for her.

She gave him a grateful smile. "Oh, thanks, Harry. I'm famished this morning." There was a beat of silence and then she added, with a smile that was edging into a smirk, "It's okay, Harry. You can say it. I'm always hungry these days."

"I wasn't going to say that," Harry protested.

"You were thinking it."

"No, I--" Harry began, an automatic denial on the tip of his tongue, before he gave in. This was Hermione, after all. He shot her a mock-exasperated look. "Do you ever get tired of being right?"

Hermione laughed as she buttered up a slice of toast. "You know I don't."

"Know-it-all," was all he said, even as he opened the jar of jam and handed it to Hermione. He wondered, idly, just how many times he'd called her a know-it-all. Thousands, maybe millions, of times by now. So many times and it had become an endearment, a private thing just between them. And he loved it. Loved her and how well she knew him that at times, he could almost swear she was telepathic.

And looking at her now, watching her as she ate, he felt a surge of emotion fill his chest and he found himself wishing-not for the first time-that the rest of the world could just leave them be, that it could only be the two of them-the two of them and their baby. It was, he thought, all he wanted in the world.

It was a testament to how hungry and distracted by the food Hermione was that it took several minutes before she asked, "Harry, what's happened?"

Wordlessly, he handed over the Daily Prophet, watching her face carefully and noting the surprise, displeasure, and finally resignation play across her face.

"You know, it was bound to come out some time, Harry," she reasoned.

"I suppose but, really, don't they have anything better to talk about?" he groused.

"You should know by now that people want to know everything about you, right up to your shoe size and if you wear boxers or briefs."

Harry felt himself color. "Hermione!"

She gave him a look of exaggerated innocence that was belied by the slight quirk at the tip of her mouth. "What? You know it's true."

"Did you have to put it like that?"

"Anyway, I think a large reason for it is because people want to live vicariously through us-or through me, I should say, considering the way half the female population in the wizarding world went into mourning when we got married, officially taking you off the Most Eligible Bachelor lists."

"For which I will be forever grateful," Harry interjected.

Hermione gave him a teasing look. "You're not so bad to have around so I think I'll keep you to myself. I'm just selfish that way."

He smiled as he knew she wanted him to but answered automatically-and entirely sincerely, "You're the least selfish person I've ever met."

Her expression softened into a smile, the sort of tender smile that, for once, showed all the depth of emotion that Hermione was capable of but that only he ever saw.

"Besides," he added quietly, "you being pregnant has nothing to do with anyone except us. I wanted it to stay that way, just between us, for a little while longer."

"We told Ron and the other Weasleys a couple weeks ago," she reminded him mildly.

"I know, but still. This is our baby, no one else's, and I wanted it to stay our secret." He added, but only in thought, just in case anything happens, with the flicker of remembered pain and stab of fear that the thought always brought. And that was really the biggest reason, the reason he was so upset over the article. He was still, in some small corner of his heart, afraid, afraid of tempting the Fates that had never seemed inclined to be kind to him as it was. But he wouldn't say it aloud, didn't want to remind Hermione of their loss or upset her in any way.

He realized his mistake-his stupid mistake-when he looked back at her and saw the look in her eyes. She knew. Of course she knew; she knew him too well not to understand what he meant even when he didn't say it. They had talked about it when she'd first found out she was pregnant-again-talked about their fears both with each other and with Abby. He had been tense for the next month and more until the day Hermione had said, "I'm past the first trimester and most accidents happen in the first trimester." (She hadn't said the word, miscarriage; it was the most obvious indication of her own nervousness since, as a rule, Hermione would have scorned such euphemisms, just as she had been among the first to call Voldemort by his name.)

"Oh, Hermione," he breathed, getting up so he could touch her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Don't look like that, love."

She blinked and two tears spilled over her lashes, sliding down her cheeks, even as she tried to give him a wobbly smile. "I know, I'm sorry, Harry."

Even knowing that Hermione's tears came much more frequently these days because of her pregnancy, his heart clenched at the sight. He never had been able to stand the sight of Hermione crying. He wiped her tears away gently before he wrapped his arms around her as she leaned into him.

"It's going to be okay, you know," he said softly, keeping his voice steady, confident. "You know that. The chances of anything happening now are slim and Abby says you're doing just fine. There's nothing to worry about and everything's entirely normal, the way things should be at this stage."

Hermione gave a somewhat shaky laugh. "You sound like a Healer."

"I guess I must have learned something from all these years of being married to one," he said with a slight smile.

"It's nice to know you were listening." The words were teasing but the smile and the look she gave him were soft, thanking him without words for comforting her.

He kissed her forehead briefly before he returned to his seat. "Anyway," he said, resuming the earlier subject, "I don't see what business it is of anyone else whether we're expecting a baby."

"You might not understand it but the general public still cares. I've actually been thinking that it might be better to make an announcement confirming that we're expecting a baby."

He gaped at her. "You can't be serious. You know how hard I've tried never to talk about our private lives in public."

"I know, Harry, and I wasn't saying you should make the announcement or even that I would make it, but we could have Abby release a short statement through St. Mungo's confirming my pregnancy. Otherwise, people will keep speculating and do you really think we're going to be able to keep this a secret when I grow to be the size of the Knight Bus?"

"Well, I was planning on having you go around wearing a box so we could keep it hidden," he deadpanned.

She laughed. "Wearing a box will probably attract more attention than just making an announcement would."

"You're right. Bugger, there goes my brilliant plan."

"We can't avoid the publicity forever, Harry," she said reasonably. "But the excitement will die down eventually and we may as well get it over with now."

"Fine," he agreed with exaggerated resignation. "Tell Abby she can release a statement sometime this week."

"Now that wasn't so hard to say, was it?" Hermione teased.

He grimaced. "It hasn't actually happened yet and that will be the painful part."

She only laughed and he had to smile. After all, what did he care about the publicity as long as he could see Hermione smile, hear her laugh, every day?

~

Harry greeted Hermione with a smile as she opened the door of their flat. "Hi, how was your day?"

She gave him a quick smile of greeting before vanishing inside her study to deposit her bag in its usual spot, reappearing a moment later to sit down beside him on the couch, resting her head briefly on his shoulder. "Hi, Harry. It was fine. Thankfully, we didn't get any new patients today."

"Tired?"

She gave him a somewhat wan smile. "A little."

He turned to drop a kiss on her hair. "Well, you can rest a little while I get dinner ready," he suggested as he stood up.

"I need to read more of that treatise I started yesterday," she demurred, straightening up.

"All right, I'll leave you to it," he agreed as he went into the kitchen.

Not quite an hour later, Harry set the table with a couple flicks of his wand and then returned to the living room to get Hermione. "Hermi-" He stopped abruptly, seeing that her head had fallen back to rest on the couch.

She had fallen asleep, he saw, as she tended to do these days. The treatise she'd been reading was lying open on the couch beside her, one hand resting on it.

He knelt in front of her silently, enjoying the opportunity of watching her sleep. He loved to see her sleep, loved the way her features relaxed. Her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks softly flushed. She was so lovely, he thought for perhaps the millionth time.

His gaze fell to focus on her stomach, as it always did these days. Sitting as she was, dressed as she was, the still-small bump that was their baby-their baby!-was barely visible but it didn't matter. He stared at it anyway, for a long moment. And then, moving very slowly, very carefully, he bent forward and lightly pressed his lips to her stomach.

He drew back to rest on his haunches and looked up to realize that her eyes were open, looking at him with a soft expression, a look of so much tenderness it caught at his heart. He managed a small smile, knowing she could see his emotion in his eyes, before he pushed himself to his feet, bending to kiss her forehead lightly. "Dinner's ready, love."

Grasping both her hands in his, he tugged her gently to her feet, sliding his arm around her waist when she was standing. And they went into the kitchen together.

"I talked to Abby," she mentioned as they were eating.

Harry nodded. "So when will she make the statement?"

"Probably in the next day or so. I told her to make it very brief, no more than a few sentences, to try to discourage any wildly sensational stories."

He made a face. "Since when has that strategy worked when it comes to our personal lives?"

"It probably won't," Hermione conceded, "but I also didn't want anything else to be included like when the baby is due."

"Right," Harry agreed. "The shorter the better, as far as I'm concerned."

"I was thinking more about baby names earlier," Hermione said after a moment, changing the subject. "I was looking through some past records and came across a file for a girl named Lacey. What do you think?"

"Lacey," Harry repeated thoughtfully. "I'm not sure… It sounds like we're talking about a dress, not a girl."

She grinned. "We could just name her Silk or Satin," she quipped.

"Satin Potter. It's perfect," Harry said with mock gravity.

She shook her head at him in exaggerated horror and he suppressed a smirk.

"What do you think of Helen?" Hermione suggested.

He wrinkled his nose a little. "Don't you think a third H name in the family is a little much? Besides, if he's a boy, what would that make him-Herman?"

She snorted a laugh. "Good lord, not that! Okay, no H names," she agreed. "What other girl names do you like?"

"I don't really know. The name, Hermione, has grown on me," he teased. "If we stayed with a mythological theme for the name, we could name her something like Aphrodite or Artemis."

It was Hermione's turn to make a face. "Oh, no, please. I like more… normal names, names that are easy to pronounce and to spell. Don't tell my parents I said so, but I never liked my name. Before Hogwarts, kids used to tease me about my name and I swear I don't think anyone managed to pronounce my name correctly on the first try."

"I can't imagine why not, Hermy-own-ninny," Harry quipped, exaggerating the mangling of her name.

She threw her napkin at him. "Honestly, Harry!" But then she gave in and laughed. "Poor Viktor. He never did manage to say my name right, even after I spent half an hour trying to tell him how to say it."

"Well, when you're busy snogging, I suppose it doesn't matter what he calls you."

She straightened and threw him a look. "Harry Potter! What are you talking about?"

"You and Viktor and the way you spent our fourth year snogging him."

"What?" Hermione gave him a look that suggested she thought he had gone barking mad. "Viktor kissed me exactly twice, if I remember correctly, and neither of those times were what I would call a snog."

He blinked, forgetting the subject of names entirely. "But Ginny said in 5th year that you had told her that you and Krum had snogged."

She frowned. "I don't remember…" She trailed off, paused, and then began, "No, wait, I do remember telling her that now. But really, Harry, you don't need to sound so jealous. It's ancient history."

"I'm not jealous," he denied automatically-and truthfully. He wasn't jealous, per se; he'd be an idiot to be jealous, since he knew Hermione and trusted her too much to doubt her-and after all, they had been married now for more than four years. "I just don't like to think of you snogging other fellows," he explained rather lamely. "Nothing like the thought of it to turn me off from food for life," he finished with manufactured lightness.

"Honestly, Harry, you silly idiot." She shook her head but her tone and her expression were soft enough as to make the word 'idiot' sound almost like an endearment more than anything else. "If you must know, when I told Ginny that, I was lying."

He stared. "But you never lie!" Or as close to never as made no difference. Hermione was the most straightforward and honest person he'd ever met.

"You and I both know that's not exactly true. And in this case, I lied because, well, I was embarrassed." Hermione flushed, looking rather sheepish. "Ginny had been talking about snogging Dean and I was embarrassed because a girl who was a year younger than me had more experience snogging than I did. It was silly of me but I didn't want to admit it and so I told her that Viktor and I had snogged, but it wasn't true."

"You didn't snog Viktor Krum," he repeated slowly, and then began to laugh. "I wish I'd known this years ago! Poor Viktor."

She gave him a bemused look, even as she was smiling. "What are you laughing about?"

"Do you have any idea how much I disliked Viktor Krum back then?"

"You didn't. Ron did, but he was such a jealous prat that year, anyway."

"Oh, I didn't much like Krum either; I was just better at hiding it than Ron was," he admitted. "In hindsight, I think I must have been jealous too; I just didn't know it. I didn't bother explaining to myself why I disliked Krum, only thought you deserved better than to snog some bloke who couldn't even be bothered to say your name right."

She laughed. "You really are a silly idiot, Harry, but a sweet one too. And why would you have been jealous back then when you spent 4th year fancying Cho?"

"It wasn't jealousy because I fancied you like that," he admitted candidly. "It was jealousy because I don't think I liked that you were paying attention to some other fellow. I think… I had just gotten so used to the idea that Ron and I were the only fellows you ever really had any time for that I didn't much like it when we suddenly had a rival for your attention." He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "What can I say, I'm a selfish prat when it comes to sharing your attention."

"Very self-centered of you," she agreed with teasing disapproval but the smile she gave him was indulgent, belying the words. "Anyway, just when did you think I'd have had time to snog Viktor in our fourth year when I spent most of that year trying to help you with the Tri-Wizard Tournament and even when I wasn't helping you, I was worrying about you because of the Tournament?"

He blinked at her. "I-well, I guess I never thought of that." He paused and then added, trying to sound lightly teasing, "Come to think of it, I guess I should have known that because Krum almost told me so." It was ridiculous to feel so touched, now, at the thought of Hermione's worrying over him then-she had shown the depths of her loyalty and her love so much more in the years since then-and yet, he really was touched. To think that even back then, before their friendship had been truly tested and strengthened during the War, she had cared so much… And he had barely noticed, had taken her so much for granted…

She looked confused. "What are you talking about now? What did Viktor say?"

"He asked me what was going on between us. I think he was a little jealous because, as he said, you talked about me so much. I should have realized that meant you weren't busy snogging him since he would hardly have been jealous of me if you had been."

She shook her head a little but her smile was indulgent. "Really, Harry, it was such ancient history. I can't believe you still remember it, let alone care what might or might not have happened between me and Viktor then."

"I care about everything that concerns you," he said lightly. "It's an obsession of mine."

She was trying not to smile, he could see, but the corners of her lips twitched upwards, betraying her. "Well, I guess I shouldn't suggest that we name our son Viktor then," she finally quipped.

He gave her a look of exaggerated horror. "I would rather name our son Draco."

She made a face at him and then they were both laughing.

"I know. We should name our son Wulfric!" she gasped in between chuckles.

"No, no. Regulus Potter has a much nicer ring to it," he managed to choke out.

She snorted. "While we're at it, what about Severus Potter?"

"Ron would have a fit! So would I, for that matter," he added in a somewhat calmer tone.

She grinned at him. "How lucky for you that I'd never inflict that name on my son."

"I've known for a long time that I'm the luckiest man in the world," he responded, abruptly sober again.

Her expression softened. "And I'm the luckiest woman," she said quietly, an unusually sentimental response for her.

He reached over to squeeze her hand lightly.

"Harry," she began after a moment, her tone a little hesitant, "what about James or Lily? Do you want to name our baby after your parents?"

He stilled, staring at her. Another James Potter or another Lily Potter… Did he want that? "I don't know," he finally said, slowly. "I never thought…"

"Or do you want to name our son after Sirius or Remus or Headmaster Dumbledore?" she suggested, her gaze and her tone understanding. She, of all people, knew how much Harry had grieved for them, knew how much Harry still respected the memory of Headmaster Dumbledore.

Harry was silent for a long moment, his eyes unfocused as he gazed absently at the floor, the very mention of their names bringing with it a host of memories. Did he want to name his kids after them? But then he blinked and looked back at Hermione, meeting her eyes-and somehow, he knew what his answer was.

"No. I think…" he paused, trying to articulate his thoughts. "This baby is the future. I think the baby should have his or her own name. Our kids are going to be famous from the moment they're born just because of who we are; it'll be hard enough for them to be seen as themselves and not just as 'Harry Potter's Son' or 'Harry Potter's Daughter' without adding in any expectations or comparisons that will come from naming them after someone else."

"I think you're right," was all she said, but the look in her eyes and her smile said volumes. It was a look of understanding, of approval, a look that filled his chest with warmth and also had him wanting to sit up a little straighter, stand a little taller. A look that made him feel like he could actually be the hero the rest of the world thought he was.

"Anyway," he said in a tone of manufactured lightness, "can you imagine naming a baby Albus?"

She gave him a look of utter innocence. "We could shorten it to Albie or just Al."

He snorted. "Al Potter is worse than Albus Potter would be."

She grinned. "Well, we agree on that."

"Oh, I don't know. Al Potter sounds like a perfect name," Hermione said, feigning seriousness.

"Actually, I was thinking of naming our son Bartemius Potter," he deadpanned.

"Bartemius Potter it is," she agreed with a straight face.

He gave her a look of such exaggerated horror that she burst out laughing and he joined in, before he cut off her laughter with a quick, firm kiss on her lips.

"Witch," he accused her smilingly and his tone made the word a compliment.

She smiled into his eyes, giving him one of those looks that never failed to make his breath catch in his chest, and that was the end of any conversation about names-or of anything else-for a few minutes.

~

Harry was tugged out of sleep and automatically turned towards Hermione, his bleary eyes managing to make out the darker shadow of her form lying beside him. And realized in that same instant that she was awake too, although how he knew it, he couldn't have said for sure. He reached out to touch her shoulder. "Hermione?" he asked, his voice slightly fuzzy from sleep. "What is it?"

Hermione turned her head towards him, although it was too dark to see her features. "It's nothing, Harry. I woke up because I had to use the loo, that's all."

It was a simple explanation-and entirely plausible, too, since he knew how often Hermione needed to use the restroom these days. And yet… there was an odd intonation in her voice, the faintest indication that something was not quite right.

He turned on the light with a quick wave of his hand so he could see her face. "Hermione?"

Her only response was to shift closer to him, nestling her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her automatically, turning his head to brush a kiss against her hair, but other than that, he said nothing more. He knew better-now-than to try to force a confidence and by now, he also trusted that she would tell him when she was ready to.

Harry could feel the burgeoning bump of her belly against his side and his thoughts drifted naturally to their unborn baby. He wondered rather idly if the baby would be a boy or a girl; he and Hermione had both agreed that they didn't need to find out. He didn't really care whether the baby was a boy or a girl, as long as the baby was healthy and the birth didn't cause Hermione too much pain. He pictured a little boy with Hermione's chin and eyes or a baby girl looking like a miniature version of Hermione…

"Harry?" His imaginings were interrupted by the sound of Hermione's soft voice.

"Hmm?" He turned his head to look down at her.

"What if-what if I'm a bad mother?"

He wanted to laugh but one look at her face had him forcibly swallowing it back. She was-incredible as it seemed to him-serious, the expression on her face one of open vulnerability that he rarely saw.

"Hermione…"

"I've never been good with children and I never know what to say to them. You saw how awkward I've been with the Weasley kids. Other little girls seemed to spend their childhoods pretending their dolls were their babies but I never did that. I made up adventures with my dolls when I was little; I never--"

Harry bit back a smile at the mental image of a little Hermione having adventures with her dolls, interrupting her uncharacteristic flood of words. "Hermione." He touched a gentle finger to her lips, quieting her as he met her eyes directly. "Hermione, love," he began softly, seriously, "you are going to be a great mother."

"How can you be so sure? I- I'm not like Mrs. Weasley; I'm too rational and I don't coo over babies or-" She broke off, her voice clogged with tears.

"Darling," he began, the rarely-used endearment getting her attention and emphasizing his sincerity. "I'm sure of it because I know you. You don't have to be like Mrs. Weasley to be a good mother; you'll be a good mother because of the way you care." He gave her a smile that was half-tender and half-teasing. "I can't claim to know everything, unlike you, but there are two things I do know about, more than anyone else-loving Hermione Granger Potter and being loved by Hermione Granger Potter. I'm an expert at what it's like to be loved by you," he finished with a quirk of his lips.

"Oh, Harry…"

He shifted to place his hand gently on her belly. "This baby is going to have a lot of Weasley cousins, a favorite Uncle Ron, a nervous wreck of a father," he said with a quick smile, "and most importantly, this baby will have a wonderful mother."

He moved down the bed until his head was level with her stomach. He pushed up her pyjama top to bare her stomach and pressed his lips to the firm skin.

"Do you hear that, baby? You are going to have the best Mummy in the entire world. She'll boss you around-" he gave Hermione a teasing wink before he went on, addressing her stomach, "and she'll take care of you and teach you and protect you." His voice softened, became somewhat husky with emotion, as he went on, not looking at Hermione again as he spoke softly to their baby. "And while she's doing all that, she'll also love you, love you with all her heart, and that, baby, is an awful lot. Your Mummy has the kindest heart of anyone I've ever met, you see, baby. So you and I are very, very lucky because we're the ones your Mummy loves the most."

He stopped then as he heard Hermione make a sound that was half a sob, half a gasp, and then she was reaching for him, pulling him up, so she could kiss him fiercely, as if to demonstrate the truth of his words, the boundless depth and strength of her love.

And he fell into the kiss, caught and held, enthralled really-as always-by her passion, as he cupped her face with his hand, one hand sliding back so his fingers could tangle in her hair.

She broke off the kiss with a gasp, drawing back, and he opened his eyes to meet hers, soft with love and dark with arousal.

"Make love to me, Harry," she said, her voice a little breathy, husky with arousal.

His lips curved into a slight smile, even as his body reacted, hardening with a speed that almost surprised him. Gods, he could never get enough of her, had never heard anything as sexy as those five words from her lips. "Your wish is my command."

And then he did what his wife wanted, stripping her pyjamas off her body slowly, kissing and caressing her skin as he went, pausing to pay homage to every additional inch of her body he bared with his lips, tongue, and hands.

He touched her, loved her, until her breath was coming in gasps and her skin was heated and flushed and slightly damp with perspiration. Until she was entirely bared to his gaze and he paused in his touches to stare at her, his eyes caressing her much as his hands and lips had.

"God, Hermione, you're beautiful," he breathed, the words falling from his lips without conscious thought.

She flushed, her hands automatically moving to cup the curve of her stomach, not to conceal it but in sudden self-consciousness. "I'm beginning to look like I swallowed a Quaffle."

One corner of his lips quirked upwards. "No, only one of the practice Golden Snitches for kids." (The practice Golden Snitches were more than twice the size of a normal Golden Snitch to make it easier for children to see it and catch it.)

She huffed out her breath in a half laugh. "Thank you, I think."

But then all amusement faded from her face as he moved to cup one enlarged breast in his hand, his fingers tracing around and over it, before he palmed it, appreciating the increased fullness of it.

"Of all the changes to your body, I think this one is my favorite," he rasped out, trying to sound teasing.

Her only answer was a moan as her back arched, pushing herself more firmly against his hand.

And he gave up on further words, his lips fastening on the hardened peak of her nipple. He swirled his tongue over and around it, savoring the taste of her, and then suckled it, lightly at first, and then harder, until she gasped and flinched slightly as he suckled too strongly. He immediately stopped, pulling back just enough to scatter soft, apologetic kisses across her breast.

He moved on to pay the same attention to her other breast, careful this time not to suckle too hard.

He moved further down her body, exploring the changes in her body first with his hands and then with his lips, the taut curve of her stomach. He kissed her stomach again but this time, his intent was sensual rather than simply loving, focused on her and not on their unborn baby. He dipped his tongue into her belly button as his hands ventured lower to caress her hips and her thighs that fell open at his touch.

He could smell the familiar musk of her arousal as he turned his head to pillow his cheek lightly on her stomach, feeling a rush of awe even in the midst of his arousal at the thought that a baby-his baby, their baby!-was inside her stomach.

"Hermione," he murmured softly against her skin.

His hand caressed her thighs and then slipped between to cup the hot, wet center of her-and she gasped, a quiver going through her entire body.

She was so wet, so responsive, so uninhibited in her passion-and he loved it, could never get enough of her. And so he showed her, kissing her, licking her, with all the knowledge and all the confidence that came from years of loving her. Until her head was moving restlessly on the pillow, until her hips arched up and a sharp cry escaped her lips, as her pleasure ripped through her.

He looked up to watch her as she came-and God, she was so beautiful with her head thrown back, her hair spread out on the pillow, her skin flushed. It was the most erotic, arousing sight in the world.

He hastily stripped out of his pyjamas with hands that trembled slightly with the force of his lust and impatience and then he stretched himself alongside her, his lips finding hers.

And then it was her turn as she kissed him, her hands greedy and knowing as they skated across his shoulders and then down his chest.

He felt her pushing lightly and he gave way, rolling onto his back and taking her with him as she sprawled over him in wanton abandon.

She pressed herself against him and he groaned at the feel of her breasts against his chest. Her lips scattered kisses across his chest as she moved over him, her teeth lightly grazing one flat, male nipple. Causing lightning to sizzle through his body to his arousal. His hips bucked, his erection brushing against her, and he gave a guttural groan and abruptly knew he couldn't take this anymore.

Swiftly, his hands lightly grasped her hips, guiding her until she was straddling him. And then she paused and his eyes flew open on a gasp.

"Hermione… please…" he rasped out, the words barely recognizable as his throat seemed to have closed up from sheer lust so powerful he was nearly in pain.

The ghost of a smile-the smile of a siren-curved her lips and the sight of it sent another bolt of lust streaking through him. Slowly, slowly, with excruciating slowness, she lowered herself until the tip of him just barely entered her-and he lost control, his hips surging up until he was fully inside her. And his eyes nearly crossed from the dizzying pleasure of it, of finally, finally, being inside her, surrounded by her wet warmth.

His hands tightened on her hips as she rose up and then lowered herself, the movement of his hips automatically finding and matching the movement of hers, as they fell into the rhythm of this familiar, endlessly-exciting dance of lust and passion and pleasure.

He kept his eyes open, drinking in the sight of her above him, the look on her face. She was his siren, his goddess, his lover, his dream…

His hands moved to cup her breasts and just like that, her body was tightening around him as spasms of pure physical pleasure shook her, captured her, her head falling back with a cry.

And he didn't know if it was the sight of her or the feel of her that pushed him over the edge but his hips snapped up in one last, final thrust as he exploded inside her with a guttural shout.

And he knew no more, returning to some semblance of consciousness some endless time later to an awareness that she was slumped above him in a breathless, boneless heap of feminine curves.

Something inside him-his very soul-seemed to purr its satisfaction at the feel of her above him, the familiar-and oddly unfamiliar-warm curves of her body draped over him. Lying as she was, he was conscious of the changes in her body from pregnancy, the new curve of her stomach, so she didn't feel entirely like his Hermione. And yet, no matter the slight changes, his body, his soul, recognized her and luxuriated in her closeness. She was still-and always-his.

He let his hands stray up her back in an idle caress and felt her turn her head to kiss his chin lazily.

"Am I too heavy?" she mumbled half-sleepily.

The ghost of a smile curved his lips as his fingers tightened slightly on her skin. "No, stay," he murmured. "I like feeling you on top of me."

He felt her smile against his shoulder.

He slid one hand up to tangle in her hair, turning her head so he could kiss her, softly, tenderly.

She let out her breath in a soft sigh as the kiss ended. "My Harry…" she breathed.

Warmth filled his chest at the unusually sentimental words. He was hers, had always been hers. His mind drifted back to the conversation they had had about Viktor Krum and their 4th year, her admission of just how much she had worried about him, cared about him, even then-long before he had even begun to think of the word 'love' in connection to Hermione. It amazed him, humbled him, to think about the depths of her friendship, her loyalty.

He cupped her cheek in a caress as he met her eyes. "You're the most loving person I've ever known," he told her in a whisper.

Her eyes softened, getting just a little teary with emotion, and he quickly added, "And I should also mention that this baby will have the sexiest mother in the world."

She choked on a laugh. "Honestly, Harry!"

"Well, it's true," he said with mock defensiveness.

She smiled as she shifted off of him to settle into her customary position, nestled against him with her head resting on his shoulder. "We'll see whether you still think that when I really start to look like I swallowed a Quaffle," she teased.

"That won't make you any less sexy."

"You're just saying that because to you, anything to do with Quidditch is sexy," she quipped.

"Well, that is why I find Ron so endlessly attractive," he deadpanned.

She laughed. "I'll tell Ron you said so."

He grinned. "Oh good, that ought to ensure he'll never be able to look me in the eye again."

Her soft laugh was swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her.

"I love you," he said quietly against her mouth as he drew back.

"I know."

"Know-it-all."

Her response was a yawn and he chuckled softly, kissing her forehead. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

"G'night, Harry."

"Good night." He turned off the light with a wave of his hand and let himself sink further into the mattress, relaxing against her, as he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, to dream of their baby.

~~

The next day, St. Mungo's released the following statement to the press: Harry Potter's primary Healer has confirmed that Hermione Potter is pregnant with the couple's first child. Harry and Hermione Potter thank everyone for the good wishes and ask that everyone respect their privacy as they await the birth of their firstborn.

~The End~

Author's Note: I wasn't originally planning on H/Hr having their little conversation about Viktor but it practically wrote itself. I just can't seem to get enough of having married!H/Hr talking about their memories from canon-and including my own interpretations.