Written for Amber's Write All the Ships Challenge (1/20 - SeamusLavender)

It's Cold Outside

"Seamus, I'm pregnant…."

The words echoed over and over in Seamus' head. He saw vividly the look of panic on Lavender's face when she told him; then the hurt that came when he didn't say anything. He still remembered her calling his name as he had turned around and left the house without saying a word.

Now, he was sitting on a park bench by himself. The first snow of winter was just starting to fall, coating the ground with a thin layer of ice. People were heading towards their homes to avoid the bad weather, but Seamus just sat there.

No, he told himself. It was a mistake. This couldn't have happened. Not yet. Not ever. They hadn't even discussed the prospect of children – it hadn't even been on their cards. They were happy together, and no children were part of this happiness.

He could still hear Lavender's cries for him to come back, to not leave, for them to talk about it. But he had ignored her, he had gotten scared. He had left.

He was just thinking that he should go home to her, to talk to her, when footsteps approached.

"Seamus, it's cold out here. Why don't you come home?"

It startled him how close her voice was. "I can't go home," he mumbled, looking at his hands instead of his wife. Lavender sat beside him, wrapped in a thick coat with her hands in her pockets. They were the only ones there. How had she known?

"Why are you here?" he wanted to know.

"I was worried," she told him gently, no hint of the anger or hurt that should have been there, in her voice. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that."

Seamus only looked at his hands, shaking his head. "Don't apologise," he said. "Please don't."

"Why are you out here, Seamus?"

"I don't know." That was the truth, of course. He didn't know why he was here, why he was panicking. He didn't know why part of him felt anger, and another part felt guilt. Maybe he was angry that she had sprung it on him like that. After all, she could have waited until they were eating dinner, she could have sat him down and explained it to him slowly; but instead, she had blurted it out the moment he'd gotten home.

Maybe part of him really was angry with her for doing it like that.

"We didn't want this to happen, did we?"

For a very long moment there was complete silence. Even the snow had stopped for just a second, as if it, too, was waiting for Lavender to reply. When no sound came, not even a peep, he finally looked at her. And there she sat, as still as any statue, simply watching the empty park.

"Did we?" he asked again, and her eyes turned to him.

"We never discussed it, no," she admitted. "But we never said definitely no." The look she gave him was meaningful, a warning – he wasn't sure what the warning was for, though.

"You sound happy." The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. She was hurt, he could tell. She was happy about being pregnant, and in as many words, he had just informed her that he wasn't.

"I'm sorry you're not," she replied coolly.

"I didn't mean it like that." How had he meant it, though? He didn't know.

"You've never once said you wanted to be a father, Seamus," Lavender answered anyway. "In fact, you've always made it quite clear that children weren't your thing at all, and it's why I never brought it up. And, because of my… my injuries… I didn't think it possible anyway." It was her turn to look at her hands now, and as Seamus watched her, studying her, he knew for certain that the sole reason he had thought they were on the same page regarding children was because she hadn't wanted to get her hopes up.

"I just assumed –" he began, but she cut him off.

"Don't try and change how you feel," she said. "It's not worth it."

Seamus had no argument for that. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "For what? Being honest? At least I know where you stand, and I'm not going to hold it against you. But…." She moved just a little bit closer to him. "But, no matter what this news does to us, I'm going to keep this baby, Seamus. Whether you want anything to do with me, or your child, is up to you. But I'm going to keep it, and I'm going to raise it. By myself if I have to."

A tear trickled down her cheek, and he resisted the urge to wipe it away. "What kind of person do you think I am?" he questioned. "Lavender, I love you. I love you so much and… and…."

"Just not our child," she answered for him.

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

There was no denying the uncomfortable silence that fell over them in the empty park after that. Lavender fiddled with her hands – a gesture that meant she was trying to think of something to say whilst trying not to cry. Seamus merely tapped his feet. He was sorry it had come to this, he really was.

"I'm going to be there for you," he said after a moment. "And our baby. No matter what. I'll be there for both of you."

"Is that going to work?" Lavender asked, and he could hear the concern in her voice.

"Of course it will."

"But, if you're not –"

She was silenced by a kiss to her lips. "I will be there for you," he promised, and she smiled. "Now come on, it's too cold out here to sit any longer. Let's go home." He took her hand, pulling her from the bench they had both been sitting on. Before long, it, too, was covered in snow.

Seamus' arm went across her shoulders, and they began walking back to their home, which wasn't far. They didn't speak, and neither expected it. There was no denying that both of them were worried, now, and as they walked, they couldn't help but wonder what would happen next.

…

"Higher! Push me higher!"

The sound of a little girl's voice echoed through the small park two people had sat almost four years ago. She was a pretty girl; blonde hair that fell down to her mid-back; big, round brown eyes, and a smile to go with it. She squealed with delight as the man with her complied to her wishes, pushing her higher on the swing.

From the very same park bench, the little girl's mother sat, smiling. Her hand absently stroked her belly where twins were now growing inside of her, and she couldn't help but laugh as her husband pushed their daughter just that little bit too high.

"Stop! Stop!" the girl cried. Her father immediately grabbed the ropes that bound the swing, and it slowed, eventually coming to a complete stop.

After a moment, the girl hopped off, hands on hips as she glared up at her father. "That was too high, Daddy!" she said.

"I'm sorry," her father answered, but there was no hiding the small smile that appeared on his lips as he said it. "What would you like to do instead, then?"

The girl thought, and then her face brightened. "Push me on the swing again!" she said. "But not too high!"

Her father laughed. "You're just like your mother, Jasmine," he said. "So demanding." But he obliged anyway, not daring to say no to her. As he took up his position as swing-pusher once more, he couldn't contain the look of joy plastered on his face for everyone to see. It had taken right up to her birth for him to realise that – even if ten years ago, he had never wanted children – if anything were to ever happen to her, he'd wish it were him instead. If someone so much as touched a hair on her head, he'd hurt whoever hurt her.

And that was why, when his wife had revealed she was pregnant once again – with twins this time – three years later, he hadn't run. Simply, he'd taken her into his arms and said, "I want two little sisters for Jasmine."

Okay, so the ending annoyed me. It took me some time to work out how to end it, and, I'm happy with it, but... I don't know? What do you think?

I do hope you enjoyed it, though. I had fun writing it. I have so much head canon for Shavender, and I'm so glad I finally got to write some of it down.