A/N: Hello again, everyone! I know it's been a little while, but at least it hasn't been as long as the last wait between visits from my muses, right?
Anywho, here is a bit of… well, I'll come right out and say it: pink, fuzzy, mushy, cavity-inducing fluffy goodness. In my opinion, anyway. No plot, just an evening in a flat with our favourite happy couple. Short and sweet!
This may or may not end up being a two- or three-shot. We'll see where the muses go from here.
Oh, and on the subject of 'Pretend', I'll try to get another chapter up as soon as I can manage to write something that I won't be ashamed to post due to large amounts of suckage.
As usual, I don't own Harry Potter, even though that would be really awesome.
Enjoy!
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A deafening bang echoed through a small flat in London as a very frustrated, very frazzled brown-haired witch appeared out of thin air just inches from the front door, startling a black-haired young wizard enough to make him jump and fall heavily onto a nearby sofa, his green eyes wide with surprise and one hand reaching instinctively for the wand in his back pocket. He relaxed, however, as he recognized the woman that was now disappearing through a doorway into the kitchen, grumbling incomprehensibly all the while. With a sigh, the wizard extracted himself from the couch cushions and made his way towards the kitchen as well.
He found her seated at the kitchen table, pulling a stack of official-looking papers from a simple black bag that she had transferred from her shoulder to the floor beside her chair moments earlier. She dropped the papers onto the table in front of her with a loud thud, then promptly propped her elbows on the polished wooden surface and put her face in her hands. He frowned and moved to her side, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey…" he started, more to announce his presence than anything else. "Rough day at work?"
She groaned into her hands, but didn't offer any other reply.
He sighed knowingly. This wasn't the first time she had come home in such a state. "All right, what happened?"
She shifted her hands so that they no longer covered her face, but supported her head instead, her fingertips pressed against her temples to ease the pounding headache that her stressful day had given her. "Where do I start?" she muttered.
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse," she replied miserably.
"Tell me what happened," he prompted soothingly, carefully undoing the tight knot in which she was required to wear her hair for work and letting her curls fall loosely around her shoulders, knowing that this would help relieve some of the pain in her head. She murmured her thanks and took a breath, preparing to tell him everything that had gone wrong for her that day.
"All right, well, my entire day started badly when my alarm never went off this morning," she began with a grimace. "It seems I forgot to reset it yesterday morning, so I ended up waking up half an hour late and had to rush to get out the door."
"Go on," he urged as he moved to stand behind her and place both hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing the tight muscles there.
"Then, when I was already in a hurry, I spilled ink on my shirt and didn't have time to charm the stain off, so I had to put on the one from my old uniform, which you and I both know is too tight for my liking," she continued, tugging at the collar of her blouse to further illustrate her misfortune.
"Oh," he said sympathetically. All members of the St. Mungo's staff were required to wear a uniform, be it blue robes for the Healers or a light blue shirt and black slacks for the rest of the staff. Hermione had recently had to invest in two new ones, exchanging her robes for a shirt and slacks, and then adding larger versions of the latter as her rapidly changing figure made the old ones fit a little too snugly for comfort.
"And then, once I finally got to work, Her Highness Chief Healer Pearson had to start chewing me out for being late, even though I was there barely two minutes after I was supposed to be," Hermione growled.
"But you're never late," said Harry, surprised to hear that Hermione had gotten in trouble for something so rare. "She must have known that something was really going wrong, mustn't she?"
Hermione snorted. "Do you think that… that cow cares what kind of morning I'm having, Harry? No, she had to give me a quarter-of-an-hour-long lecture about how I should be glad to have a job at all at the moment, and how if I was going to have a lie-in any time I wanted, I shouldn't have asked for this position in the first place, because she could have easily found hundreds of other people who could have done the job better than I do, and would have been there on time to boot, and loads of other bull that I tuned out after all of five minutes."
Harry shook his head and sighed. "Remind me again how this woman became Chief Healer?"
"Because she is, in fact, a brilliant witch and an amazing Healer," Hermione said grudgingly. "She's just a very unpleasant person as well. I get along with her quite well most of the time, though that might be because I usually don't end up having to talk to her. But she watches me like a hawk anyway," she grumbled. "I don't think she likes me very much."
"Why's that? You've never done anything to her, have you?" asked Harry.
"No, I haven't," she assured him. "I think she thinks I'm too young to be a Healer."
"But you did all of the training," Harry protested. "You passed all of your tests, just like anybody else. You just happened to do so a couple of years early, that's all," he said, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
Hermione grinned as well, but it was a rather forced smile. "I know, and I don't regret it one bit, but Chief Healer Pearson seems to think that I shouldn't have been allowed to pass early."
"I'll bet she's just a little bit threatened by you, love," Harry said reassuringly, kissing Hermione's cheek. "You're too smart for her liking."
Hermione sighed. "Maybe you're right, Harry, but that doesn't seem to stop her from treating me like dirt, which brings me back to the story of my day."
"Right, go on."
"Well, once Her Highness finally decided to let me do my job in relative peace, I realized that in my mad dash to get out the door in time, I'd forgotten to take my potion after I woke up," Hermione continued.
"Oh, no," Harry said understandingly.
"Exactly. So, there I was, stuck at my desk, with Pearson circling around me like a vulture whenever she had a free moment, trying to force myself to be cheerful and polite when I felt absolutely miserable," Hermione recounted as she rubbed her temples and frowned at the memory of her terrible morning.
"I thought you kept a vial of back-up potion with you in case you felt sick at work," said Harry. Hermione had been feeling queasy every morning for months now, but her stomach was usually kept settled by a series of potions prescribed to her by the Healer she had been seeing a few times a month. If she forgot to take them, however, she felt terrible for hours.
"I do, and I took that one as soon as I realized that I'd forgotten about the other, but the back-up potion only eases the nausea; it doesn't get rid of it like the one I'm supposed to take when I wake up," Hermione explained.
Harry moved his hands from her shoulders and wrapped them around her waist, resting his head on hers. "Poor thing," he murmured. "Were you sick?"
"No," she replied, covering his arms with hers in a strange, backwards version of a hug. "No, thank Merlin. That was probably my only stroke of good luck today. Then again," she mused, "I suppose it wasn't really luck, seeing as I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning. And yes, I know I'm supposed to," she added when a "'Mione…" came from the weight on top of her head, "but I was running late enough to begin with; I didn't need to make things worse. And I had an early lunch, even though that earned me the evil eye from Pearson."
Harry seemed satisfied, so she continued.
"So, anyway, once I had gotten up late, been chewed out by Pearson, and was feeling awful, I had to deal with the normal flow of people asking me where they needed to go, despite the clearly printed sign only a few feet away from my desk. I mean, I know that it's my job to be the 'happy, helpful welcome witch'," she said, putting on a fake smile and a falsely cheerful voice, "but I wish that everyone would just take five seconds to read the sign before they make me have to fill out more paperwork, just because I end up being the first one to talk to them after they arrive," she grumbled, gesturing to the pile of documents in front of her.
"I hate paperwork," said Harry. As an Auror, he had plenty of it to fill out as well, though he usually managed to finish his at work, while Hermione often had to bring hers home with her.
"Me, too," Hermione agreed. "But I always have so much of it."
Harry gave her a gentle squeeze and returned to rubbing her shoulders. "Did you run into any more bad luck today, hon?"
She shook her head. "No, unless you count Pearson 'reminding' me of the lecture she gave me this morning just before I left. Merlin, I hate her," she growled.
Harry remained quiet and concentrated on rubbing the tension away from Hermione's shoulders. She allowed him to continue until she abruptly got up from the table, making her way over to the cupboard and taking down one of the few glasses that were still there (the rest being carefully and securely packed in one of the many cardboard boxes that were stacked by the front door). Harry, who was not surprised by her sudden movement, as she often got rather restless after a particularly stressful day, joined her while she filled her glass with water and sipped it, looking out the window above the sink at the parking lot below. The dark, rain-soaked pavement shone with the reflection of the streetlights, making it easier to see from the fifth-floor flat in which the young couple found themselves.
"The view from here really is terrible, isn't it?" she asked quietly in between sips.
Harry blinked at the unexpected change of subject. "I guess so… We'll have a much better view once we finish moving into the new house, I suppose."
She nodded slowly as she finished her drink and set the glass down on the counter. After continuing to gaze out the window for a moment, she sighed and leaned against the counter, folding her arms on the smooth surface and letting her head hang loosely above them. Concerned, Harry moved a bit closer to her and placed a hand on her back. This seemed like more than just a reaction to a bad day at work.
"Are you OK, 'Mione?" he asked.
"Mm-hm," she replied quietly. "Just a little tired, that's all."
"Are you sure?" he pressed, his hand rubbing gentle circles into her back.
"Yeah," she said, raising her head enough to look at him. "There's a lot going on right now, with work and moving and everything, not to mention the stress of having a baby on the way, and… it's just hard to juggle everything, sometimes."
Ah, thought Harry, so that's what's really bothering her.
Understanding now, he moved his hand from her back and carefully pulled her into his arms, years of experience allowing him to cradle her just right. She settled against him easily, happy to be in the safe haven of his embrace, where she could always manage to relax, even after her hardest days. She had first found this haven in the minutes and hours after Ron had deserted her and Harry in the tent during what should have been their seventh year at Hogwarts, reaching for comfort in the only person she had left and finding so much more than that waiting for her. Though they had both known that Harry wasn't that great with crying girls, he had done his best to soothe her after she had returned, drenched from the pouring rain and sobbing uncontrollably, to the tent that had been their home that year. He had wrapped her in a blanket and held her tight, murmuring comforting words to her for hours until she had finally stopped crying and had, eventually, fallen asleep in his arms.
The next morning, she had awoken to find him beside her, his glasses knocked askew and his hair even more mussed up than usual, holding her against him as he slept. From that morning on, he had always been there when she needed him, offering comfort and companionship when she needed it most. Eventually, that companionship had begun to blossom into something more, something strong and wonderful that had led them to become a couple a few months before the Battle at Hogwarts, and had finally led them to their wedding day, almost three years before this particular miserable day at work. After tying the knot at the age of twenty, the two had enjoyed married life very much, moving into their flat and making it their home for three years before deciding, upon learning that Hermione was pregnant with their first child, to move out to a much bigger house in England's Lake District.
Leaning against her husband, Hermione let out a long, slow breath and let her eyes close for a few moments, easing her throbbing headache by shutting out the violently bright light of the kitchen. She smiled slightly when she felt Harry's fingers combing through her unruly hair. She loved it when he did that.
"Why don't you lie down for a little while," he suggested from a few inches above her, "and I'll fix you a potion to help with your headache." Harry's potion-making skills had improved significantly since his release from the cold Hogwarts dungeons and Snape's perpetually disapproving gaze, a fact that Hermione had found to be a godsend whenever she wasn't feeling her best.
"Mm… thanks, but no thanks," she murmured against his chest. "It'll go away on its own in a minute. Just… just hold me like this for a little while, would you?"
"Of course," he replied, moving his fingers from her hair in order to give her a gentle squeeze, "if it makes you feel better."
"It does," she assured him, already feeling some of the pain ebbing.
He kissed her forehead and leaned against the counter, making it easier for him to support both his own weight and hers. There was silence for a good few minutes before he spoke again, resuming his earlier activity of running his fingers through her hair.
"You look worn out, love," he said, sounding a little concerned.
She sighed. "I feel a bit worn out," she agreed. After a short pause, she added, "I… I've been thinking of taking that maternity leave that the hospital offered me when I first found out that I was pregnant."
"Oh?" Harry asked interestedly. Hermione had adamantly refused to accept the offer in the early months of her pregnancy, insisting that she wanted to stay at work. The hospital had reluctantly agreed, but maintained that Hermione would not be permitted to work as a Healer, where she ran the risk of contracting a disease from a patient, but would have to settle for being the welcome witch.
"Yeah," she said with a nod. "It's not that I don't want to work, but the fact is that doing so on top of moving and trying to do everything right for this baby of ours is stressing me out, which pretty much undoes what I'm trying to do, seeing as I don't accomplish anything when I'm stressed except for earning warnings from the Healer about how I need to slow down. I wouldn't be taking the full year," she added, "just seven months."
"Four to finish off your pregnancy and three to spend with the baby," Harry confirmed. "Makes sense."
"You think so?" she asked, glad that he agreed with her.
"Of course," he replied. "You know I wanted you to take the time off in the first place."
"I know," she said. "But that was long before I felt even the most remote desire to take any time off," she reminded him. "I wasn't any more tired than usual, and I barely ever felt ill…" She chuckled softly. "I suppose I didn't feel pregnant then."
She felt one of Harry's hands move from its spot on her back, coming to rest on her belly.
"And you do now?" he asked.
She shrugged slightly. "More than I did before."
He kissed her forehead and chuckled. "Well, isn't that a surprise, considering the fact that you are pregnant?"
She pulled away from him slightly and gave his chest a gentle shove with one arm. "Is that really all the sympathy I get from you, seeing as you're the one who put me in this situation in the first place?" she asked, pretending to be upset.
"You wanted me to," he replied, grinning down at her with a smug expression on his face.
She heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose that's true, but…" She looked up at him with a grin, mirroring his smug look. "It still takes two to tango, Mr. Potter."
Harry's smug expression faltered for a moment as he seemed to search for the words that could win their brief verbal boxing match. Eventually, he gave up and grinned down at her once more. "Well played, Mrs. Potter."
"Same to you," she said contentedly, settling against him again and closing her eyes. She had forgotten her headache for a few moments during her and Harry's good-natured tussle, but now it returned. Not with a vengeance, at least, but not with much less force than it had had earlier, either.
"In all seriousness, though, I think that a little time off would be good for you, love," he said, gently patting her slightly rounded belly through the light blue fabric of her shirt.
"Me too," she agreed. "The problem is getting the idea past Her Highness Chief Healer Pearson without getting my head bitten off," she said with a small frown.
Harry raised an eyebrow at that, though he knew that she couldn't see it. "I would have thought she would be glad to have you gone, from what you told me earlier," he remarked.
"Mm, you would think so, wouldn't you?" she said, looking up at him. "I suppose that you would be right, if Her Highness had been kicking me out on her own, but if I ask to be put on maternity leave, that will be an entirely different story. Of course, she's not in any position to decide whether or not I get to go," she added, sounding pleased. "She might be Chief Healer, but that doesn't mean that there aren't people above her on the food chain. Still, I'll probably get another lecture about being 'ungrateful'," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm plenty grateful," she muttered defiantly. "Grateful that the old cow is, in fact, an old cow, and the hospital is going to have to force her to retire sooner or later."
Harry chuckled. "And you'll be dancing down the corridors the moment they do."
"Definitely," she agreed.
The two were quiet for a few moments, before Hermione sighed softly and shifted a little in Harry's arms.
"Harry?"
"Mm?"
"Any chance of taking you up on that offer of a nap and something for this headache?"
"Of course," he replied. With a cheeky grin, he added, "What? Am I losing my touch when it comes to making you feel better?"
"No," she assured him. "I've just got a monster of a headache and a lot of paperwork to get done."
He kissed her forehead again and scooped her up, carrying her down the hall and towards their bedroom. "Try not to think about that, love," he suggested softly. "You might be the Healer around here, but even I know that that's no way to help a headache."
"All right, Mr. Know-it-All," she replied as he set her down on the bed, "what do you suggest I think about, then?"
"Well…" he said, moving to sit behind her as she rolled onto her side and settled into a more comfortable position. There were plenty of ways he could answer, he knew. He could say anything from "Think about your favourite book" to "Just think about feeling better", but all of those answers seemed too obvious, too impersonal. Rubbing her back with one hand in an effort to send her to sleep more quickly, he tried to figure out something to say that would not only answer her question, but actually help her relax. After a minute or two, he smiled as it came to him.
"Well," he started again, "why don't you think about how much better you'll feel when this is all over and done with, when we're settled into the new house and we've gone from being a couple to being a family?"
He watched, pleased with himself, as a smile spread across her lips.
"A big, old house in the country and a family of our own, huh? I suppose I could go for that," she agreed.
He chuckled softly and lay down beside her, reaching for her closest hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Me too, hon," he said. "Just think about what it'll be like: no more stress from moving; no more looking out the window and never seeing anything but another building, or a parking lot; having a nice, big yard with trees and grass and everything all to ourselves…" He nuzzled her neck and sighed happily, daydreaming freely now. "It'll be like heaven, 'Mione," he murmured. "A little bit of heaven, all for you, me, and our baby."
To his great surprise, he heard her sniffle and felt her shift to wipe her eyes with the back of one hand. Before he could ask what was wrong, she turned over and wrapped her arms around him, snuggling against his chest once more.
"Oh, Harry, you're getting me all worked up…" she protested into the fabric of his shirt.
"What did I say wrong?" he asked in disbelief, not knowing how anything he had said could have upset her.
"Nothing," she assured him quickly, drying her eyes again. "Nothing, love, don't worry, it's just…" She sniffled softly and shook her head at herself before looking up at him. "Happy tears, Harry," she explained to her surprised and slightly alarmed husband, whose expression immediately shifted from one of concern to one of understanding. She had, after all, been crying a bit more than usual lately, over everything from television commercials to the fact that there might be some poor soul stuck outside whenever it rained. "Bloody hormones," she added.
He opened his mouth slightly, as if to offer sympathy, but she surprised him once again by shushing him with a long kiss on his lips, a gesture with which he was happy to comply. Once they had broken apart, she rested her head in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes, glad to feel that her headache was starting to ease, her body relaxing and starting to slip off the edge of consciousness, heading towards sleep.
"I really think you're right, you know," she murmured. "About how it's going to be." She sighed happily and smiled. "A little bit of heaven, just for us. Our heaven. Our haven."
He mirrored her smile and slipped out of her arms, gently resting her head on the pillows and noticing, to his satisfaction, that she was fast asleep. He slid off of the bed as carefully as he could, trying not to wake her up. He strode to the doorway and turned around to close the door. Taking another short look at his sleeping wife, he pulled the door closed as quietly as he could. Making his way to the kitchen, where he would find the ingredients for the simple potion he had offered her, he thought of her words and smiled.
Exactly, love. Exactly.